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I donned the VR helmet and the forest built itself around me, trees erupting from the ground, canopy sprouting to close over my head, all of it with a glitchy digital shimmer. A creature in the distance unleashed a long, high-pitched trill. I stood on a branch, the ground a dizzying distance beneath me, with a grapple gun cradled beneath my arm. I peered over the edge. Far below, a giant crab scavenged along the forest floor, its larger claw held aloft while the other parted a thick, spiny pillar of vegetation.
They’d started me on a branch. Normally altitude equated to safety, but this was a sim, which meant danger couldn’t be more than a few minutes away.
Think.
I heard a rustle of leaves and looked up.
A lizard perched on a branch a few stories above. It popped a fluorescent red dewlap out of its neck and tilted its head, examining me. The lizard was six times my size, bright green, with powerful back legs and long, slender toes. It looked to be calculating whether I’d fit into its mouth.
I stood very still and considered my options.
Think.
The crab continued to forage beneath me. I had an idea.
I linked the grapple gun to my harness, secured the hook around the branch, and glanced up to see the lizard making its way down the tree trunk toward me.
I jumped off the branch and flew downward, line whizzing out of the grapple gun.
The lizard rushed down the tree trunk after me. Its tail lashed furiously.
I tore my eyes away and focused on the trajectory of my descent. The crab was directly beneath me. I needed it to stay perfectly still —
Just above the crab, I hit the button on my grapple gun to retract its hook. I covered the final ten feet in free fall, climbing pick ready in my right hand. I landed right behind the crab’s eyes and began to tumble down its back, scrabbling with my free hand and the climbing pick. The grapple gun dug into my stomach. As the crab spun, I managed to plunge the pick into its shell, orange-white fragments spitting against my face. The crab lurched left, claws clacking in vain. It couldn’t reach me. I found my other climbing pick and began to work my way up its back.
Green flashed overhead and I ducked. The lizard prowled along the far edge of the clearing, searching for an opening to leap again and snatch me off the crab’s back.
The crab, biologically incapable of dislodging me, skittered away.
Vegetation whipped by overhead. I lay close against the crab’s back, bracing my feet on ridges of exoskeleton. Looking back, I saw the lizard close behind, its legs a blur.
Out in the open again, I released the right-hand pick and felt at my side. My fingers found the reassuring rubbery grip of my pistol. When the lizard approached, jaws hanging slightly open to reveal a deep red gullet, I emptied the magazine.
The crab zig-zagged, frenzied. I held on grimly, trying to reload the pistol with one hand as the crab swung me back and forth. The lizard bobbed and weaved, close behind, blood whipping in thin strands from bullet wounds on its snout.
I chanced a glance forward. A wide circle of soft dirt lay directly in our path.
BOBBIT WORM.
The training videos had been explicit: a large area of exposed soil meant death. If the crab crossed that patch of ground, we were both dead.
I aimed my pistol and fired four shots at the forward corner of the crab’s shell, just to the left of its eye stalks. Fragments sprayed everywhere. The crab veered right and scuttled along the very edge of the dirt patch.
Whipping back around, I fired the rest of the magazine toward the lizard.
The lizard swung out across the patch of soft dirt to avoid my bullets.
With a sound like a quarry blast, a pair of enormous golden jaws erupted out of the ground. Behind the jaws came an iridescent column of yellow muscle, ringed with chitinous ridges. The sides of the worm bristled with sharp feelers.
The lizard sprang off the ground.
The bobbit worm snatched it out of the air. As quickly as the jaws had struck, they retracted. With a spray of dirt, the lizard vanished, dragged down into oblivion.
The circle of dirt puffed and swelled, seeming to breathe.
Then we were through another wall of vegetation and out of sight.
My crab scuttled onward. A chasm yawned suddenly before us. The crab headed straight for it.
I abandoned the climbing picks and flung myself free. A flailing crab leg caught me in the chest and hurled me across the clearing. I skidded into a tree trunk, fuzzy blackness swarming in from the edges of my vision. Coughing, I forced myself up, fumbling at the controls of my grapple gun.
There, above me, a branch —
I aimed carefully. Make it to that branch and I was safe. I refused to miss.
Something roared.
I fired the grapple gun. My hook secured itself neatly around the branch, and then I was flying, soaring upward, the forest a green-brown blur and a sharp rush of air.
Rivers cut the simulation, and everything went black.
I lifted the VR helmet off my head, flushed with excitement.
“Yes!” I whispered, gently tugging the electrodes off my neck.
The door swung open, and Rivers ducked through, scratching the back of his head.
“I did it,” I said.
He grimaced at me.
“Recruit,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ve never seen anybody try what you just tried.”
I grinned. “That seems unlikely.”
“The correct solution in that sim is to grapple to an adjacent tree and swing across,” said Rivers.
“I feel like my solution worked out fine.”
“Well. You broke the first rule of being a ranger.”
“Never approach the wildlife.”
“Correct.”
“It was just a crab.”
“It could have killed you.”
“I knew it couldn’t reach me back there.”
“Well.”
Rivers couldn’t seem to bring his full glare to bear on me. There was an uncomfortable curve to the edge of his lip that I was beginning to suspect was a smile.
“C’mon, Sergeant. I didn’t have a scratch. I got a nine, right?”
Rivers sighed.
“Well, you failed the decision-making component,” said Rivers, “but your execution was good.”
I grinned even wider, my cheeks beginning to smart.
“I’ll give you an eight,” said Rivers.
“Thanks, Sarge.”
He rolled his eye.
“Get out of here, recruit.”
I left. Outside the sun was shining its brightest in weeks. The only clouds were thin and scraggly, like stretched-out cotton balls. I took my time walking back to the barracks, breathing the sweet, earthy air. The trees were green and fresh. The snow on top of Mount Rainier looked like icing. There was a grizzly bear pawing at the dumpster behind the mess hall.
There was a grizzly bear —
The bear turned to look at me as I passed. Its eyes were small and dopey and black. It was a extremely real bear, with thick brown fur and a hump on its back. I suppressed an idle urge to walk up and hug its furry flank.
The grizzly bear started toward me. My desire to give it a hug evaporated.
I barged into the barracks, pulling the door shut behind me, and nearly flattened Li.
“Jesus, Tetris.”
“Sorry. There’s a bear outside.”
“What?”
“A bear. A grizzly bear.”
Behind us, the bear galumphed against the door. The walls rattled. The bear peered through the porthole, schnuffling its nose against the glass.
“Why’s it doing that?” asked Li. “Did you threaten its cub?”
“There’s no cub,” I said.
The bear made a muffled noise, halfway between a roar and a gurgle. I was fairly sure it couldn’t figure out how to pull the door open. A round knob like that didn’t work with paws, did it? I was seventy-six percent sure that everything was fine.
“This is hilarious,” said Li.
I stared at her.
“What? Isn’t it?”
The fear began to fade.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I said.
The bear had vanished from the porthole. I went to a window and peeked out.
“He’s leaving,” I said.
Li opened the door. After a moment I followed her outside.
The bear trundled toward the treeline, its fuzzy rear rolling back and forth with each step.
“How’d the sim go?” asked Li.
“I got an eight,” I said, mulling over the fact that she’d remembered I had a sim this morning.
“Good work.”
I snuck a look at her. “Thanks. I needed it.”
We watched the bear vanish into the forest.
“Nobody’s going to believe us,” said Li. “About the bear.”
“That’s fine,” I said.
After a moment, Li turned and headed for the barracks door. She paused with her hand on the knob.
“I hope you don’t get cut,” she said.
Suddenly I felt extremely warm all over.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem.”
“I hope you don’t get cut, either.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” said Li.
We walked down the hall together.
“Hey,” I said, “Zip and I climb up on the roof of the barracks some evenings. Just to hang out. Check out the view. Want to come along?”
She studied me.
“Alright,” she said.
It was a beautiful day. Tomorrow was the half marathon, and it was supposed to rain, which meant running thirteen miles with the recruit in front of me flinging mud back at my face every time he took a step, plus clothes heavy with water, and socks that squelched in my boots — but today it was clear, and the sun was shining, and Li didn’t want me to drop out of training, and life was good.
Next Chapter
I donned the VR helmet and the forest built itself around me, trees erupting from the ground, canopy sprouting to close over my head, all of it with a glitchy digital shimmer. A creature in the distance unleashed a long, high-pitched trill. I stood on a branch, the ground a dizzying distance beneath me, with a grapple gun cradled beneath my arm. I peered over the edge. Far below, a giant crab scavenged along the forest floor, its larger claw held aloft while the other parted a thick, spiny pillar of vegetation.
They’d started me on a branch. Normally altitude equated to safety, but this was a sim, which meant danger couldn’t be more than a few minutes away.
Think.
I heard a rustle of leaves and looked up.
A lizard perched on a branch a few stories above. It popped a fluorescent red dewlap out of its neck and tilted its head, examining me. The lizard was six times my size, bright green, with powerful back legs and long, slender toes. It looked to be calculating whether I’d fit into its mouth.
I stood very still and considered my options.
Think.
The crab continued to forage beneath me. I had an idea.
I linked the grapple gun to my harness, secured the hook around the branch, and glanced up to see the lizard making its way down the tree trunk toward me.
I jumped off the branch and flew downward, line whizzing out of the grapple gun.
The lizard rushed down the tree trunk after me. Its tail lashed furiously.
I tore my eyes away and focused on the trajectory of my descent. The crab was directly beneath me. I needed it to stay perfectly still —
Just above the crab, I hit the button on my grapple gun to retract its hook. I covered the final ten feet in free fall, climbing pick ready in my right hand. I landed right behind the crab’s eyes and began to tumble down its back, scrabbling with my free hand and the climbing pick. The grapple gun dug into my stomach. As the crab spun, I managed to plunge the pick into its shell, orange-white fragments spitting against my face. The crab lurched left, claws clacking in vain. It couldn’t reach me. I found my other climbing pick and began to work my way up its back.
Green flashed overhead and I ducked. The lizard prowled along the far edge of the clearing, searching for an opening to leap again and snatch me off the crab’s back.
The crab, biologically incapable of dislodging me, skittered away.
Vegetation whipped by overhead. I lay close against the crab’s back, bracing my feet on ridges of exoskeleton. Looking back, I saw the lizard close behind, its legs a blur.
Out in the open again, I released the right-hand pick and felt at my side. My fingers found the reassuring rubbery grip of my pistol. When the lizard approached, jaws hanging slightly open to reveal a deep red gullet, I emptied the magazine.
The crab zig-zagged, frenzied. I held on grimly, trying to reload the pistol with one hand as the crab swung me back and forth. The lizard bobbed and weaved, close behind, blood whipping in thin strands from bullet wounds on its snout.
I chanced a glance forward. A wide circle of soft dirt lay directly in our path.
BOBBIT WORM.
The training videos had been explicit: a large area of exposed soil meant death. If the crab crossed that patch of ground, we were both dead.
I aimed my pistol and fired four shots at the forward corner of the crab’s shell, just to the left of its eye stalks. Fragments sprayed everywhere. The crab veered right and scuttled along the very edge of the dirt patch.
Whipping back around, I fired the rest of the magazine toward the lizard.
The lizard swung out across the patch of soft dirt to avoid my bullets.
With a sound like a quarry blast, a pair of enormous golden jaws erupted out of the ground. Behind the jaws came an iridescent column of yellow muscle, ringed with chitinous ridges. The sides of the worm bristled with sharp feelers.
The lizard sprang off the ground.
The bobbit worm snatched it out of the air. As quickly as the jaws had struck, they retracted. With a spray of dirt, the lizard vanished, dragged down into oblivion.
The circle of dirt puffed and swelled, seeming to breathe.
Then we were through another wall of vegetation and out of sight.
My crab scuttled onward. A chasm yawned suddenly before us. The crab headed straight for it.
I abandoned the climbing picks and flung myself free. A flailing crab leg caught me in the chest and hurled me across the clearing. I skidded into a tree trunk, fuzzy blackness swarming in from the edges of my vision. Coughing, I forced myself up, fumbling at the controls of my grapple gun.
There, above me, a branch —
I aimed carefully. Make it to that branch and I was safe. I refused to miss.
Something roared.
I fired the grapple gun. My hook secured itself neatly around the branch, and then I was flying, soaring upward, the forest a green-brown blur and a sharp rush of air.
Rivers cut the simulation, and everything went black.
I lifted the VR helmet off my head, flushed with excitement.
“Yes!” I whispered, gently tugging the electrodes off my neck.
The door swung open, and Rivers ducked through, scratching the back of his head.
“I did it,” I said.
He grimaced at me.
“Recruit,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ve never seen anybody try what you just tried.”
I grinned. “That seems unlikely.”
“The correct solution in that sim is to grapple to an adjacent tree and swing across,” said Rivers.
“I feel like my solution worked out fine.”
“Well. You broke the first rule of being a ranger.”
“Never approach the wildlife.”
“Correct.”
“It was just a crab.”
“It could have killed you.”
“I knew it couldn’t reach me back there.”
“Well.”
Rivers couldn’t seem to bring his full glare to bear on me. There was an uncomfortable curve to the edge of his lip that I was beginning to suspect was a smile.
“C’mon, Sergeant. I didn’t have a scratch. I got a nine, right?”
Rivers sighed.
“Well, you failed the decision-making component,” said Rivers, “but your execution was good.”
I grinned even wider, my cheeks beginning to smart.
“I’ll give you an eight,” said Rivers.
“Thanks, Sarge.”
He rolled his eye.
“Get out of here, recruit.”
I left. Outside the sun was shining its brightest in weeks. The only clouds were thin and scraggly, like stretched-out cotton balls. I took my time walking back to the barracks, breathing the sweet, earthy air. The trees were green and fresh. The snow on top of Mount Rainier looked like icing. There was a grizzly bear pawing at the dumpster behind the mess hall.
There was a grizzly bear —
The bear turned to look at me as I passed. Its eyes were small and dopey and black. It was a extremely real bear, with thick brown fur and a hump on its back. I suppressed an idle urge to walk up and hug its furry flank.
The grizzly bear started toward me. My desire to give it a hug evaporated.
I barged into the barracks, pulling the door shut behind me, and nearly flattened Li.
“Jesus, Tetris.”
“Sorry. There’s a bear outside.”
“What?”
“A bear. A grizzly bear.”
Behind us, the bear galumphed against the door. The walls rattled. The bear peered through the porthole, schnuffling its nose against the glass.
“Why’s it doing that?” asked Li. “Did you threaten its cub?”
“There’s no cub,” I said.
The bear made a muffled noise, halfway between a roar and a gurgle. I was fairly sure it couldn’t figure out how to pull the door open. A round knob like that didn’t work with paws, did it? I was seventy-six percent sure that everything was fine.
“This is hilarious,” said Li.
I stared at her.
“What? Isn’t it?”
The fear began to fade.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” I said.
The bear had vanished from the porthole. I went to a window and peeked out.
“He’s leaving,” I said.
Li opened the door. After a moment I followed her outside.
The bear trundled toward the treeline, its fuzzy rear rolling back and forth with each step.
“How’d the sim go?” asked Li.
“I got an eight,” I said, mulling over the fact that she’d remembered I had a sim this morning.
“Good work.”
I snuck a look at her. “Thanks. I needed it.”
We watched the bear vanish into the forest.
“Nobody’s going to believe us,” said Li. “About the bear.”
“That’s fine,” I said.
After a moment, Li turned and headed for the barracks door. She paused with her hand on the knob.
“I hope you don’t get cut,” she said.
Suddenly I felt extremely warm all over.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem.”
“I hope you don’t get cut, either.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” said Li.
We walked down the hall together.
“Hey,” I said, “Zip and I climb up on the roof of the barracks some evenings. Just to hang out. Check out the view. Want to come along?”
She studied me.
“Alright,” she said.
It was a beautiful day. Tomorrow was the half marathon, and it was supposed to rain, which meant running thirteen miles with the recruit in front of me flinging mud back at my face every time he took a step, plus clothes heavy with water, and socks that squelched in my boots — but today it was clear, and the sun was shining, and Li didn’t want me to drop out of training, and life was good.
Next Chapter