They both continue in silence, slicing verbal cross-sections of themselves into one fresh trunk after another – one expressing the life she’s forged while being in the Cyberside, the other reluctantly acknowledging the life he left behind. One on the left, one on the right. They continue to blaze the trail. To cut, hew and slash their hurts, losses and obsessions into the simulated, living tree-bark of the Spire
Hunger – Honeymoon
Insomnia – Christmas Morning
Slavers – Arguments
Lost in their respective self-reflections, neither immediately notices the forest path has led them to a giant tree with a door carved into it. James desperately tries to wrench himself out of the quagmire of his memories. Jamming everything he’s recalled back down, he bars and locks the vault inside his head.
Wiping his eyes, James spots Matilda staring intently at the last word she’s carved into the tree. Collecting his things, James heads over to her.
“Hey, you okay? Need a minute?”
There’s a coldness is in her voice when she responds, “No, let’s go.”
James tries to see what’s she’s gouged into the tree but can’t make out the word.
“It’s okay, we can…”
Matilda moves towards the door.
“No, we’re still a long way from the top.”
James casts a final gaze at the forest behind them and follows Matilda towards the door.
As she emerges from the other side of the tree, Matilda is overwhelmed by the sudden increase in sheer audible volume. The serenity of the forest has been replaced with the clamoring commotion of a street bazaar. Vendors shout for customers’ attention, and boisterous arguments erupt over the prices of wares or services. She feels trapped in a never-ending sea of human bodies, all pushing and fighting their way through.
The castle at the top of the mountain appears closer, but it’s still far out of reach. With her eyes, Matilda follows the path up to the next section of the Spire. She spots a lift ferrying people and goods upwards. At the lift’s base, Matilda sees a writhing crowd of people clambering over each other as they wait their turn to go up.
“Seriously? It couldn’t be that easy, could it?”
She turns around at the pressure of a hand on her shoulder, her blade gripped and ready. She relaxes when she sees James. The recent trip through the ‘search forest’ has her on edge, and this sudden crowd has instantly magnified the problem. Matilda can see the same uneasiness on James’s face. Sometimes she wishes he was better at communicating – but right now she’s thankful for his discretion. She follows the Taciturn to a unit of guards watching over the Bazaar.
One of the sentinels acknowledges them even before they say anything.
“Ahhh. You two. Finally made it out of the forest, huh? Quite an interesting pair you make.”
Ignoring the comments, James asks, “What is this place?”
Excited, the guard gestures to seemingly everything around them.
“This, friends, is the Spire’s Traffic Acquisition Bazaar. The best and easiest way to get yourself a much-needed audience at the top. That lift over there can be used to avoid the perils of going up the mountain.”
Matilda observes James as he scans the marketplace. Grunting thanks to the guard, Taciturn starts walking – in a direction precisely opposite that of the lift.
The guard calls out, “I can recommend some great vendors, if you…” but his voice is already drowned out by the general volume of the marketplace.
Matilda trusts that James knows what he’s doing, but the farther they walk into the crowd, the more they are accosted by sellers, each promising to get them the popularity they need to be ‘trending’, each more off-puttingly-enthusiastic than the last. Matilda hears proposals of all types as she maneuvers her way through the crowd. A tall, well-dressed man approaches the Taciturn and offers him a plan for direct acquisitions. Another, shorter, more casually dressed man sees Matilda and rambles on about a foolproof plan focused on a simple revenue share model. Despite her ignoring him, the man continues to follow them.
“With my contacts higher up, you’ll have record numbers!”
An irritated, withering look from the Taciturn sends the man away in mid-pitch. With the vendor gone, Matilda can hear herself think.
“So just to clarify, we aren’t we using the elevator. They’re all saying we don’t really need money for it, and we can just share our popularity when we’re at the top. But I doubt it’s that simple.”
James shakes his head.
“Yeah, it’s not that simple.”
Matilda sidesteps a young woman intently talking to a vendor. She calls after James.
“Yeah, I get that. It’s clearly a trap, but I’m asking how.”
James stops and faces her. Matilda can tell he’s getting frustrated with their environment. His hand flexes as he talks.
“Sorry, I just want to get out of here as quick as possible, but I should make sure we’re on the same page.”
James makes an obscene, rhythmic gesture with his hand to everyone around them. “First, the ‘merchandise’ these guys are selling is total crap. Sure, we can use the elevator to get the next level, but we won’t be able to retain the popularity once we get there.”
Matilda looks at the vendors around her, now fully understanding what it is they’re selling. Disgusted, she says, “If we lose it once we get there, we’ll have to acquire more from them to keep going up to the next level.”
James gestures towards the mountain pass.
“Exactly. It’s all non-organic support. When we get all the way up to Hank, he could easily just shut it down. Unfortunately, we need to go up the hard way, or it doesn’t count.”
Nodding, Matilda pushes her way through the crowd towards an exit leading up the mountain pass.
Once they are slightly above the bazaar, Matilda turns and looks down at it. She wonders how many people have chosen the lift instead of the path. How many, in their fear of falling back down to the very bottom, have abandoned all ambition and stayed here? Now they merely perpetuate the cycle, selling the drug of fake popularity to other people who are also afraid of falling back to the bottom, and will do anything – even if it’s illusory – to stay out of that lowest, miserable sprawl. Those most passionately hawking meaningless popularity don’t even believe it any more – the top might as well not even exist for them.
Matilda turns to start hiking up the mountain path.
“If Hank considers people products, these people sure aren’t proving him wrong.”
Chapter 15: “Crossroads”
Continuing their trek up the mountain path, Matilda notices the air getting progressively thinner. She can’t recall the last time she had to walk so continuously uphill. The rumbling in her stomach reminds her that she hasn’t eaten since the forest. Pulling out her prized bag of spicy chips, Matilda can already taste the savory spices when a gust of wind snatches the bag from her hand and sends it flying. Cursing, she scurries over to where it has landed – a small ditch to one side of the trail. Reaching for the bag still gently crackling in the breeze, Matilda is startled to find a pile of brightly colored clothes on the ground. When Matilda realizes what she’s looking at, she utters a cry of revulsion.
Abandoned in the ditch are the remains of another traveler whose journey up the Platform Mountain ended with, presumably, little or no fanfare. As Matilda reluctantly inspects the tatter-clothed body, she tries to imagine who this person was and what her dreams were. Did she want to reach the top for riches and glory, or to simply escape the squalor and chaos below?
James’ voice interrupts her contemplation.