Inescapable Escapism

I checked the weather forecast one last time before walking out the front door of my apartment. The viewers had chosen for me to a party, a secret rooftop thing that I didn’t even know about until it had been selected and the invite appeared on my television screen. I was excited, of course. It was a huge deal, from what I could see. So many higher-ranked streamees were expected to be there; the producers had already warned me. It had flashed up in the corner of my vision as I ate breakfast. It would be a fantastic chance to meet them, get to know them and maybe even get some new viewers. That would be good. It might help bump my ranking up.

But, they’d chosen for me to walk there rather than get a hover car from my balcony. It was my fault, I was almost certain of it. I’d given them a glimpse of the City earlier, and now they wanted more. They wanted more than just a look. The viewers longed to know what it felt like to walk through the City, to see the giant glass buildings, the parks and all of the other streamees who wandered around talking to drones and handheld cameras, if their level was that low.

But it was hot outside, and that was a problem. I couldn’t show up to the party sweaty and red-faced. None of the higher-ranked streamees would want to show me on their streams. I would look a mess.

That was fine though. I could walk slowly, make sure not to let myself get too unkempt. Plus, it would give the viewers more of a chance to see the City. The drones could do some wide shots, some overheads maybe? That would be good. Give the audience what they want. That’s what the producers drilled into us time and time again, and I could do just that.

I let a smile come to my face as the elevator buzzed softly. The doors closed gently, making sure not to hit the drones, before gradually sinking lower in the building. It was too quiet in the lift. There was no one else there to make small talk with, so I found myself humming. That was good. I could come off as cute and happy. The viewers would like that; it fitted with my persona.

The lift moved so slowly. Too slowly. It was painful. I wasn’t sure how high up my apartment was, I couldn’t recall that, but it felt like the journey took forever. Impatience built within me, but I would never let it show on my face. Not that I would really know if it was.

One of my drones was shooting me from the back corner of the lift, taking advantage of it being empty. Normally, if there were too many people in the lift or the drones were just shooting from the front, the elevator doors would become mirrors. It was intentional, another thing that the producers controlled. They liked there to be as many mirrors as possible around the City. We should always know what we looked like so we could be aware of the image we were projecting to the viewers, but the drones couldn’t be caught on stream. That would break the immersion.

Of course, it was slightly different when there was a big group of people, like at the party I was on my way to. The drones and cameras would try to stay out of the way as much as possible, but the audience knew they’d be there. They didn’t mind them too much. I wasn’t sure why it was so different when it was a smaller group or just me.

Maybe it was because when there were fewer people there, it felt more intimate. Just the viewer and the streamee. In a big group, the viewer felt like just another person there. They didn’t mind cameras in that situation because they expected it, in a way? I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t my job to know about those kinds of things. That came down to the producers.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator doors opened. I emerged into the foyer. Fighting to keep the look of wonder from my face, I looked around. It was beautiful. The open plan room was perfectly lit, making the cream marble walls and floor gleam. It was empty. Just the doorman waited by the giant glass doors.

I couldn’t hear what he was saying from where I was, but I could see his lips moving. He was probably talking about me, announcing my arrival to his viewers. That was his job, after all. He just stood at the front of the building all day, greeting and talking to the people who lived on the floors above us. Well, that and gossiping. The producers had told me that was a key part of his role.

He would talk about things he’d seen or heard, never quite speculating but giving the viewers the chance to do so if they wanted to. And they did. That was a perk he got with his title. He could see the chat. It was crucial, apparently. He had to be able to see what people were typing and how they were responding to him, so he could tailor his gossip to that.

“And there she is, Miss Gracie from floor thirty-two,” I heard him say as I neared. “In a beautiful pink dress, designer, unless I’m mistaken. Perhaps the work of Joeey? Wonderful choice for the weather in the City today. It is a scorcher.”

I fought the urge to touch my skirt, keeping my expression neutral. Had it been designed by Joeey? He was a huge deal, and that suddenly made me more confident about the party. People would comment on the dress, ask me about it.

I had never worn designer clothing in real life. My mom had some, of course, but I didn’t. When I was younger, she said it was a waste. I would just ruin it by being messy or something. I stopped asking about it as I got older. It was less important to me. I could just wear whatever.

“Good morning, Gracie,” the doorman said, raising his voice to speak to me. “Where are you off to this fine morning?”

I barely hesitated. The doorman was a lower rank than me, eighty-seven according to the number that appeared above him, and normally I would have lied to someone like that about the party. It was risky not to. They would try to tag along, and the producers might let them. Then, I’d be the girl who let a low rank into a fun party. They would be too needy, too eager to rise. It would ruin the vibe.

That wasn’t a risk with the doorman, though. I didn’t think he ever left the building.

“There’s a rooftop party a few blocks over,” I told him with a coy smile. “It sounds like it should be pretty fun.”

“Ah, the party hosted by the good folks at Frosted Ice?” he asked, but I could tell he already knew. “Man, I know that most people love their range of spirits, but I think their premixed drinks are even better. I’d say my favourite is the grape-tastic twisted lemonade. It’s so easy to drink!”

A red word flashed along the top of my vision, but I didn’t even need to look at it to know that Frosted Ice was a sponsor. I had to tread carefully. They made alcoholic drinks, and I was still young. The drinking age in the City was sixteen, but it was eighteen outside. I had a lot of young and impressionable viewers, people who had grown up with me and who were probably watching me in school right at that moment. I needed to give a good impression and appeal to them whilst still supporting the sponsor. It was a dangerous balance.

“Oh, that is a good flavour,” I said, matching the doorman’s enthusiasm. “I think my favourite is the blue razzleberry blast! I’ve not really tried too many of their flavours, though.”

“Ah, of course. You’re young. Drinking heavily at your age can have a negative impact on your cognitive development,” the doorman said, undoubtedly reading the standard warning that we were forced to say whenever the producers felt we had spoken too positively about alcohol and the networks might not like it. “But of course, it’s alright to enjoy the occasional Frosted Ice beverage! Hopefully, you’ll have the opportunity to sample more flavours today!”

I nodded, making sure to keep my expression innocent and under control as I waited to see if the producers were happy with his warning. If not, I’d need to say something or add something to mention the dangers of drinking alcohol too much. Everyone already knew them; they just didn’t care. But the network that hosted my streams did, and they mattered more.

A green light blinked.

“I hope so,” I said enthusiastically.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a fantastic time,” he replied.

“Thank you,” I told him, stepping towards the open door as my drones started to move again. “Have a great day!”

“Thank you,” he replied before continuing his steady stream of commentary to the people watching him. “What an interesting development. Gracie is going to the Frosted Ice party today, along with a number of large streamees, including at least five people from the top twenty and the dreamy Ray…”

I wanted to turn back and ask him more about the party. Five people from the top twenty was a huge deal for someone like me, especially if Ray was included in that number. He was… dreamy. The doorman had been right. I hadn’t seen much of him, of course. He was only a year older than me and entered the City just after I did. I’d seen pictures of him around though. Mostly on advertisements. And I’d seen his name on the rankings.

I didn’t pay him much attention at first, and neither did anyone else. I’m not sure what changed exactly, but something had. His name shot up. He went from barely in the top hundred to the top fifty overnight. And he had just been climbing since then. When I checked that morning, he was hovering around number twenty, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if he was already even higher. He had a gift. A knack for it. From what I had heard, people just seemed to enjoy watching his streams. I was bitterly jealous.

A breeze caressed my face as I walked along the wide paths of the City streets, distracting me from my thoughts. Confusion washed through me. How was there a breeze? The City was enclosed. Ah, a fan. But I should have known that. The City always used fans on hot days like that to simulate a breeze. It made it more realistic for the viewers.

I should have known that though. It was the first time I’d left my apartment in the fantasy, but I’d been in the City for years. I should have remembered. It had taken so long to come to me, and I wasn’t sure why. I was distracted. Maybe that was it.

It was. I could feel myself stirring in the other world. The spy world. And there wasn’t that much for me to do as I walked slowly through the City, so I didn’t mind pulling back slightly. I was staring at things, of course, taking in my surroundings. The City was so beautiful, so pristine, but I’d seen it before in the fantasy. I’d been there for about four years; I was used to it.

But, in the spy world… I rolled over, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through my stomach, triggered by my movement. It still hurt so much. I thought sleeping would have made it better, but it felt like I had barely slept. Every time I moved, I woke up. It all hurt. I’d go speak to the doctor during breakfast. That would help. They’d be able to give me some painkillers and check to ensure I hadn’t done any permanent damage.

I opened my eyes, glancing at the clock. It was just before five; not time to get up just yet. Time was barely moving in that fantasy. It felt like so much time had passed in the other one, the streamee one. That was good though. It meant I could do both. I could live my life as normal in the streamee fantasy and work my way up the ranks whilst also becoming a spy. I could do everything.

I wanted that. Both worlds appealed to me but in different ways. The spy world was great. It felt more real and fascinating. I could learn so much and get to travel, make friends and become a spy, but the streamee world… That felt so much less real, but I wanted it nonetheless. It was the life I wished I could live, even though I’d never really considered it before. I had fame and people interested in me. They were engaged; they cared about me. And it was so futuristic and cool.

But there was also something else there. Anxiety was a persistent undercurrent, no matter what. I was always being watched and had to be careful about how I acted. Always, in the back of my mind, I was trying to work out how people would react to what I said. How they’d perceive me. I needed to make sure my actions fitted with my persona otherwise, people would get concerned. People didn’t like change. I wasn’t allowed to change, so I couldn’t really be myself. I had to be the person they wanted me to be.

And there was a never-ending push. An incessant pressure to do better. I could never be happy and content with anything. How could I be at my rank? I was pretty high, that was true, but I could do better. I had to do better. That thought bounced around in my mind all the time. It always had. I could remember the discussions ever since I came to the City. The producers wanted me to do better; they wanted me to advance. The higher I climbed, the better it was for them too.

But that meant I would never be good enough. Nothing I did would ever be good enough. Not unless I hit number one, but I wasn’t sure if that was even possible. It felt like I was too far down, and there was too much competition. But I wanted it. I wanted it so much.

“I think this must be it,” I said, stopping outside a completely unmarked warehouse.

One of my drones lifted into the air immediately, clearly trying to get an overhead shot of the party with me standing outside. It would take a good few seconds to get high enough for that shot. I needed to give it some time.

Peering at the door to the factory, I cocked my head.

“I think it’s here, at least,” I muttered, just loud enough to get picked up on the microphones. “I think I can hear music…”

I could. A low thumping noise was drifting down towards me, and I assumed it was coming from the roof. It was so early in the day for that kind of music. Honestly, it felt like it was too early in the day for a party, regardless of the type. I was used to it though. I went to quite a few during the day. It was intentional, I was pretty sure. They needed something fun and exciting to show people whilst they were at work. It helped distract them from how boring their jobs were.

School too. If they showed kids constant streams of people having fun and living a perfect life, it would make them want to be a streamee too. They’d pressure their parents into sending off their audition tapes, and then they’d have a constant flow of new streamees whenever one got too old, or people stopped caring. Plus, people would watch us drinking specific drinks from the sponsor, and they’d be thinking about it all day, waiting for the moment they could try it. As soon as they left work, they’d rush to the nearest facility and order the same.

A new instruction flashed at the top of my vision. I needed to enter the building. The producers wanted the shot caught on the drone. It would be a good one, apparently. I couldn’t look too confident about it though. It was a big party, bigger than what I was used to. That meant I needed to look slightly nervous and out of my depth.

Forcing myself to take a deep breath as one of my drones flittered around me to get the right shot. I reached out for the door handle. It was nothing impressive or particularly noteworthy. Just a plain silver door with a pull handle.

“Here goes nothing,” I said before yanking the door open.

It swung open easily, and I peered into the darkness inside as a drone squeezed past me to capture my reaction. Confusion was how I felt, and I let it show on my face.

“There are no lights on… Am I definitely in the right place?” I asked before making a show of reaching for my phone and reading the invite again. “I guess so.”

I stepped into the darkness, letting the door slam shut behind me. I could barely see. Just the light from the drone in front of me illuminated the room ever so slightly. My other drone would catch up once I was on the roof, so I was stuck with just one for now. It didn’t last long though. Another drone, a floater, appeared from nowhere. It looked much more high-tech, even in the dim light.

“This is kind of scary. Maybe I should just go home,” I said, making sure my voice wobbled slightly to show my fear. The viewers wouldn’t be able to see my face properly, so I needed to make sure they still knew I was afraid. “No. The invite said this is the right place. Maybe if I just go further into the building?”

I started walking slowly, holding my hands out to make sure I didn’t bump into anything. It was unnecessary. The drones gave off just enough light for me to be able to see where I was going. Plus, the room was empty. I wasn’t sure if it had been abandoned long ago or had just never been used, but there wasn’t even any machinery there.

Before long, I reached another door. This one was slightly more impressive looking than the last. It was painted a dark blue, but the paint was flaking. I started to reach out before pausing. There was no door handle. How was I meant to open it? Maybe push?

I gave the door a slight shove, but nothing happened. It didn’t even budge.

“Umm,” I said, unsure what else to do. “There’s no handle. I guess…”

Reaching out again, I knocked timidly on the door. I wasn’t sure if I expected it to fly open or what, but there was a loud clunking noise that made me jump. Knowing my audience would expect me to, I stepped back as the sound of metal scraping against metal filled the air.

Light flooded the room, forcing me to shield my eyes as part of the door slid back. It was like a letterbox but much higher on the door, just above my face height. The other side was lit far too brightly and, even though someone was blocking most of the light, it was hard to look at it. I wanted to. I longed to know what was happening on the other side of the door; my eyes were just struggling to adjust.

“Name,” a deep voice demanded.

A man, I realised, was peering through the hole at me. I looked around, as if debating running away, before meeting his gaze.

“Gracie.”

I didn’t need to give my second name. No one in the City used them. That was part of the reason I went by Gracie, which I hated, rather than just Grace. When I first entered the City, there was already a Grace. It would be confusing for viewers for there to be two. She had left or been kicked out a couple of years back, but my producers were against me rebranding. I’d lose viewers, apparently. They would search for Gracie, not Grace, and I wouldn’t pop up.

The man’s grey eyes narrowed slightly before he stepped back. I got a glimpse of the room beyond him, nothing more than another empty room, before the room was plunged into darkness again.

Silence followed. It lasted so long that I wasn’t sure if they’d changed their mind about my invites. Or maybe they were just waiting for their poll to finish. Perhaps their chat was voting on whether or not I should be allowed in. How would I react if they voted no? Should I complain? No. That wasn’t right. It was important that I got into the party, it could have a huge impact on my rank, but viewers wouldn’t like it if I threw a tantrum.

Quiet sadness. Disappointment. That would work better. People would pity me, which wasn’t ideal, but they wouldn’t dislike me. And maybe, if they pitied me enough, I’d be invited to the next party.

My frantic planning was unnecessary though, I realised with a relief-filled sigh as the door made another loud noise. It buzzed that time, before lifting quickly. I blinked, stepping forwards into the dazzlingly bright room.

“Welcome to the party, Gracie,” the bouncer said as I walked forwards, still blind. “Make sure to grab a refreshing glass of Frosted Ice’s latest creation as you approach the elevator.”

I smiled at him, having caught the way his eyes glinted in the bright room. I’d thought they were just grey in colour, but they weren’t. There was a flat metallic edge to them that made me certain his eyes had been replaced with cameras. I knew that was a thing, but I rarely saw them. And he didn’t have a rank. Normally, they appeared above a person’s head when I looked at them. It was useful; I needed them to know how to interact with people. His rank wasn’t there, though. That meant he was unranked. Not a streamee. I still had to be nice to him though. His eyes were probably streaming onto my channel as I looked around the empty room.

“Umm—” I started to say, but he interrupted me.

“If you go through that door, you’ll find yourself in a corridor. At the end, there’s a bar where you can order your drink and take the elevator up to the roof,” the man told me, pointing at the door without looking away from me.

He couldn’t, probably. It would mess up his shot.

I nodded at him before turning to look at the door with wide eyes. My drone and the spare buzzed around me, trying to make sure they stayed out of the bouncer’s field of vision whilst still capturing me.

“Thank you,” I said to him before taking another deep breath and walking towards the door.

It opened automatically as I approached, and I felt my mouth drop open as I stared into the corridor beyond. I had never seen anything like it before.