One Level Down is Mary G. Thompson‘s debut novella for adults, which examines identity and autonomy through the lens of technology and more. It due to be published at the beginning of next month, by Tachyon Publications. Today, we have an excerpt for our readers! First, here’s the synopsis:
Trapped in a child’s body, a resourceful woman risks death by deletion from a simulated world…
Ella is the oldest five-year-old in the universe. For fifty-eight years, the founder of a simulated colony-planet has forced her to pretend to be his daughter. Her “Daddy” has absolute power over all elements of reality, which keeps the colonists in line even when their needs are not met. But his failing experiments and despotic need for absolute control are increasingly dangerous.
Ella’s very life depends on her performance as a child. She has watched Daddy delete her stepmother and the loved ones of anyone who helps her.
But every sixty years, a Technician comes from the world above. Ella has been watching and working and biding her time. Because if she cannot make the technician help her, the only solution is a desperate measure that could lead to consequences for the entire universe.
*
“Ella, you have to go.” Camilla’s voice shakes me from my memory. It’s just the two of us on the truck now. I’m her last stop. Daddy’s house is in the center of town, and we’ve wound our way around the edges, coming closer and closer this whole time.
I don’t see Daddy, but I know he’s there. He’s standing just inside the doorway, looking out through the screen. I take a deep breath and gear myself up. It was so nice to be able to drop the act just for a few minutes, to be able to exist without trying to act five. But my breather is over now.
“Bye!” I say cheerily, waving my hand as I step down from the cab. I run around the back of the now-empty truck bed and make a beeline for the front door. I saw how tired the other kids were, but Daddy remembers that Ella had a lot of energy. Ella was cheerful. Ella never sulked or whined or cried.
The screen door opens toward me as I approach. Daddy steps outside, down the three steps, kneels down, and opens his arms. I run into them, and he lifts me into the air and spins me around.
I giggle and protest. “Daddy, stop!”
He stops and bounces me in his arms. “How was the field trip, pumpkin-head?”
“It was dark!” I say. “Did you really land there all by yourself?”
“Yes, I did!” He carries me inside and closes first the screen door and then the inner door with one hand. My heart speeds up, and I take a deep breath, then another. I imagine that I’m Kady coming home to her daddy. I imagine that this is really my first time going on that field trip. I put myself inside someone else’s mind. Anybody’s mind but mine.
Daddy sets me down. “I bet you’re tired. I heard about your little problem with the truck. But first let’s have your bedtime snack.”
I am hungry. Camilla stopped bringing snacks on the field trip three years ago, when some mom’s idea of fun sprinkle-covered cupcakes ended up all over the truck bed, the meadow, and the kids’ clothes. But it’s not like I have a choice. Daddy puts food in front of me, and I eat. So I sit at the kitchen table in my booster seat while Daddy spreads nut butter on thick crackers. Just as he’s setting the plate in front of me, his walkie-talkie buzzes.
“Harkin.” He smiles at me and watches while I take a bite. “Yes, I heard. That’s not an element I have access to.” He turns away from me, the way he always does when he’s on the walkie-talkie. I don’t know if he realizes he’s doing it, but I think he’s afraid that if I see the face he uses for adult stuff, he’ll scare me. As if hitting me didn’t.
My head tries to wrap around this for the millionth time. But I don’t understand it. I never will. As long as I act the part, he loves me. When I stop, he doesn’t. That’s it.
I feel Samantha’s presence behind me. I’ve read that a lot of people used to feel the presence of the dead this way. Back when there was death. People used to imagine their loved ones with them. They’d imagine so hard that they’d believe it was true, so they made up ghosts and poltergeists, good spirits and bad ones. They imbued these spirits with their own guilt or their own hopes. I imagine that her hand touches my shoulder. I loved you, I imagine her saying.
I take a bite of my cracker.
I remember the screaming. Samantha’s, and later, Daddy’s. You would think that deleting a person would be painless, that there would be no sound at all. But you’d be wrong.
“There’s a three-month window,” Daddy says. “I know. I wanted it to coincide with the celebration, but that’s how it works.” He shakes his head, although there’s no one to see. “No, it’s all within expected parameters. The Technician will get your truck back. Or I’ll make sure it takes top priority for fabrication. Goodnight to you too. And say hello to Radiance. Okay, goodbye.” He clicks the button on the walkie-talkie and sets it on the counter. “Tough crowd, pumpkin,” he says.
I continue eating, not daring to hope that he’ll talk to me about the Technician.
“You can’t have a universe without a few glitches, you know?”
I look up at him with big, trusting eyes.
“A man’s going to come to make sure everything is working right,” he says. “He’ll bring the birds back to the forest. Return that truck. Heck, he’ll even find all those socks gone missing.” He chuckles to himself.
“Will he find Samantha?” I ask. I make my voice and eyes as innocent as possible. I don’t care if he hits me. He always does it again eventually. Why shouldn’t his next breakdown be tonight?
“Silly goose,” Daddy says. He plucks my nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Samantha’s not lost. She just joined the Western Settlement. She’ll be back to visit any day now.”
I think about pushing him, asking him why he won’t let me see her letters, but I lose my nerve. Sometimes, when he hits me, it hurts a lot. Sometimes he breaks bones. We don’t get sick like people used to, but we feel pain. We get injured. We take time to heal. I don’t want to experience any more pain, and I hate myself for it.
“Can I go to bed now?” I ask.
“Sure, pumpkin-head. Let’s get your teeth brushed.” Daddy takes my now-empty plate and sets it in the sink. I get up from the table slowly. I’m tired. Bone tired, as if I was in the body of a fifty-eight year old woman. People used to complain about aging so much. Aches and pains and fat and fatigue. I’d give anything to feel it all. I’d give anything to have a body that would get older, reach its prime, and then begin to break down.
I follow Daddy into the bathroom to go through the ritual. It’s what I have to do so he’ll let me sleep.
*
Mary G. Thompson’s One Level Down is due to be published by Tachyon Publications in North America and in the UK, on April 1st.
Civilian Reader 