Burst of Empathy

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

1. EQUIVOCATION

2. STRICTLY BUSINESS

3. UNDERWATER KERFUFFLE

4. BLUES FOR FRISKY

5. CRY ME A RIVER

6. NEVER HAVE YOUR PET'S MIND READ

7. UNTETHERED

8. REVENGE FALLACY

9. SINKING HOOKS

10. THE LILLY PAD HYPOTHESIS

EPILOGUE

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PROLOGUE

  The auditorium held 400, but at least 500 showed up. The excess people sat in the aisles and staked out places to lie down in the lobby. Despite the protests of the simbot ushers, some made their way onto the stage.

  Most brought a neck pillow allowing them to sleep while sitting up. Many came in their leopard print pajamas. But a few had gotten the rosette print wrong; the jaguar print is blurrier, and that was the big cat they had come to see, or to be correct, came to be.

  On stage, a young man in a three-piece suit stepped carefully through an opening in the bodies which had already carved out tiny plots surrounding the podium. Applause erupted, and he smiled at those applauding while lying flat at his feet. After adjusting the lectern down he hunched over it and squinted out at the audience.

  Still silent, he reached down into the lectern and pulled out a long red stocking cap which he put on so it would dangle down one cheek with the fluff ball under his chin. The crowd cheered, pillows were launched into the air, then caught and shook in joy. A half-dozen pillow fights broke out and then broke up as those nearby grumbled for them to stop. If they hadn’t already, the audience began strapping on white net-like caps over their heads. Some had decorated their caps, some caps only had the owner’s name in big black letters. This is how one could tell a newbie from an older party member.

  Finally, he produced a small cylinder from his breast pocket and flipped it out like a Chinese wax paper yo-yo. It unrolled and then expanded into a pair of virtual reality glasses, the cue to put their own VR glasses on. He waved at the audience from the same image they were seeing, but now in cyberspace. His body was full screen on the jumbotron at the back of the stage, the image fed to everyone’s VR glasses. As they came online, their count appeared, fifty, two hundred, then four hundred and finally after a tad more jostling, 517 followed by a green light.

  “They take orders well,” he thought.

  “My name is Mat Matsuru, CEO of Okapi Rising.” The applause echoed inside the VR glasses and quickly died away. Mat began to sway, the stocking cap’s pom-pom swinging opposite so either his head or the pom-pom were available to each side of the audience at any given beat. The camera zoomed in, adjusting to contain the full swing of the bobble. “Welcome Brazilian Progressistas Jaguar Party.” Another short cheer. Mat gave an inner chuckle because the ‘Progressive Jaguar Party’ was in fact one of the most conservative political parties in Brazil.

  “Today you are not in Rio de Janeiro. You are in the State of Mato Grosso, between the Juruena and the Arinos rivers, one of the most inaccessible places in the Amazon.” Mat held his arms out, lowering them to hush the applause.

  Mat wasn’t much for frivolities, so he began the emersion. The spattering of water hitting at the base of a waterfall filled everyone’s visual field. The view rose up the waterfall, breaking over the top revealing far off forests and mountains, green as far as one can see.

The narrator’s voice—also Mat—continued in its monotone cadence. “Even as the Toucan calls rroar rro in the distance, remain alert to my voice. We are in the land of wild rivers, capybaras, spider monkeys and you. So curl up in your den. Sleep soundly. Sleep. Soundly, sleep, s l e e e p...” Mat trailed off. He looked down at those sprawled out closest to the podium, so peaceful, heads slumped in slumber. The images, along with every other sense shot straight to their brain, like opium.

  Mat pulled off his VR glasses and nightcap, then snuck away from the podium, making sure he didn’t touch any of the bodies even as they shifted into more comfortable positions. Hanging around an accumulation of people in the middle of an emersion wasn’t any fun, so he went back to the green room to wait.

  Meanwhile, everyone was silent in their own shallow caves, beginning their mutual dream:

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Awakening. Listening for movement.

Stepping out onto the 'front porch.' Solid rock. Stretching out, there was enough light, but not enough to run through thick underbrush. Stretching further, considering today’s path—when reaching the meadow, the sun should be breaking over the nearest crest. Sun in prey's eyes.

Stretching a final time, crouching, leaping off the boulder, landing with a twang of pain. The haunch that was attacked at Cross Paths. It still hurt, but a good, healing hurt.

Starting out. Shoulders, rising and lowering with each stealthy step, head bobbing opposite to keep a steady gaze.

Wind rising from the valley. Good. Always wary, scanning the hillside. Looks the same, but it always does even when trouble comes, too.

No hurry, but also no time to reflect.

Stepping carefully, always carefully, around a newly downed tree. Its uprooted roots blocking some of the view. Jumping is for youth; no more for me. Crawl under. A deep breath. A clear scent. Badger, four hours most, more like two.

The nearest water hole is small this high up the mountain. Lapping the water, I see my wavering image. Broad jaw, scarred nose, long whiskers sprouting through manicured rosetta-pocked fur. The sound of the trickle is lulling me to go back to the cave.

Alright. Today take off to patrol the hind end of the Big Carcass. My land. Rival hasn’t challenged that section in a long time, but one never knows.

Spent too much time defending Cross Paths.

Rabbit notices me and takes off in a zig-zag. Go ahead white tail, run. I’ll get you. Fatten up. I’ll get you some other 'morrow.

Long meadow, forest, short meadow, creek. Boulder jumble, careful, snakes.

Enter forest again. Stop and smell. All threats at a distance, rain unlikely. A rare chance to roll-and-stretch, to look at the sky trees, monkey screeches receding away through the treetops; arguing with each other about whether I was a threat or not.

I am the creature on this earth solitary and mean—fierce without alternative. And I have a reputation to live up to. Imposing, threatening. I lie on my back and stretch my paw into the air, foreleg and haunches bulging, claws extending. They increase my paw by a half again. Inspecting the second claw in, broken in the fight. I bring up my other paw and hit at it. But no luck. Not ready yet. Yawning, I roll over. Look around. Wonder why I’m antsy. Maybe because it’s too quiet?

Each sniff upwind provides nothing of note. But anacondas don’t smell. Danger is never far away.

Another hundred meters, the smell of dead deer. Approaching cautiously. Too far gone, but a good sign these grounds are improving for the hunt. Nearby, smell of wolves have brushed by. Too cowardly to mark. This also means I will need to better tag this land.

Stealth mode. Where there is a dead creature there may be other predators, or a newly-minted orphan. Only by sneaking can I close in. Peeking from behind large dark leaves, a shivering fawn. Too easy. Two pounces, I’m on it. My jaw snaps its neck, only the slightest squeak of its last breath. Adjust the grip. I must away from the old dead carcass smell.

Now.

Bounding to a tree in a meadow, vault up and onto a thick limb. View and fresh kill. What could be better?

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  “OK, enough.” Mat took off his VR glasses, putting them down on the dining room table in his country home where he sat. He searched for his reflection. There, in a corner window, reflecting his shadow, but it showed what he needed—a double pane reflection—a tell-tale sign of reality.

  Mat rolled his neck and stretched. Then took in a sudden deep breath, sighing. He knew that if he did not go through the post-emersion process the memory would be indelibly impressed as reality in his mind. So he put the VR glasses back on, commanding, “Two-minute decompression.” His head cocked back, falling to one side.

When it finished, Mat took off his VR glasses as well as his white cap, putting them down on the table and sat back, inflating his cheeks in exasperation and slowly blowing out compressed air.

  The upside-down image in the visor—the VR Mat, just out of reach of his fingertips, continued on in a thin, small, cadenced voice, “You just had a dream, a very vivid dream. Let yourself slowly exit the dream.

  “You will remember it later.

  “Stretch now, yourself, otherwise you might be exiting on all fours! Get comfortable in your body. Believe it or not, it was only 15 minutes, but in your experience, it was three hours. Don’t be surprised if you have to pee, please just don’t do it on the columns out front. Local restaurants have been notified, it’s also a good idea to hydrate and grab something to eat. VIPs, you’ll be using the actor’s restrooms. And we have catering. Follow me,” and turning back to the microphone, “Goodnight!”

  Mat knew it would be useless to have a dramatic ending as his audiences would be too groggy to care. Then he laughed, remembering his days as a tour guide. Had he changed that much?

  Nine years ago Mat created his disembodied personal assistant, which he called, Ether, named after the matter between atoms where light and electromagnetic radiation reside. This iteration of Ether spoke kindly but stern—like one’s older brother when he wasn’t bossing you around,

  “See, that’s what step one would be. Step two—you rise in the ranks to master propagandist. By the time you get to step eight though- Well, here you are.” A projected holo showed an image of a prison, a tropical cell with bars overhead. Mat is pacing in circles just like a zoo animal from a hundred years ago.

  “Alright, archive it.” He shook his head.

  “You wish to go back into it?” Ether queried.

  “Yes, you included the big wigs in the audience. I didn’t get a chance to observe them.”

  “I believe you want to know a pecking order?” Ether paused, “Based on twelve meetings over the past year. In the front row everyone, including the Mayor, the Governor, and the Pro-tem Speaker looked to Senator Barbas to mimic.”