Theme park. A virtual reality theme park. Lewis had only heard of them in passing, so the phrase stuck out in his memory.
“What do you do at one of those?” he recalled asking.
Miller laughed. “Well, I guess ‘amusement park’ would be a better term for it. A theme park implies all the attractions are set around one unifying concept, but at this place, you can do pretty much anything.”
“VR rollercoasters?”
“Through volcanoes or across the moon. You can go anywhere. But they do so much more at this place too. You can climb a rock wall and your headset will make it seem like you’re scaling Everest. And forget laser tag; the deathmatches they have can be set in any time period or environment. Medieval sword clashes, World War I trenches, sci-fi space battles, you name it.”
“So do you run around wearing an Oculus Rift or…?”
Miller shook his head. “Much more advanced. Yeah, there are headsets, but you also have haptic feedback suits for the rest of your body. You can ‘feel’ a virtual object when you touch it; it’s really cool.”
The conversation had changed topics after that. Miller hadn’t even mentioned the place’s name or where it was located.
Lewis got up from the sofa, retrieved his laptop from the kitchen countertop, and sat down in the living room again. He Googled “virtual reality theme parks” and got a number of results. It was evidently a growing trend, with many companies creating their own similar attractions around the globe, from Dubai to China. The first prominent one in the U.S. had been The Void, which was based in Utah with a few satellite locations around the country and abroad to showcase their technology. Now they had competitors springing up elsewhere across the States.
Lewis scratched his chin. Virtual reality was one of those overdue bits of the future that had always seemed just around the bend. The concept was older than most people thought, dating back to the mid-20th century when the Sensorama was released in 1962. Developed by Morton Heilig in the late 50s, it showed a 3-D film with sound, smells, and fans to create wind effects. As computers rose to prominence in the 1970s and 80s, the idea of immersive simulations grew ever more popular. It became a staple of science fiction; writers everywhere saw the future of humanity living in cyberspace, where the lines between virtual reality and actuality became increasingly blurred. In the 90s they started seeing it as the future of all video games, yet at the verge of the 2020s, standard console and PC gaming were still going strong.
Of course, the past decade had seen great leaps in VR popularity, mainly pushed by the Oculus Rift and competing headsets such as the HTC Vive. But the fact remained that they were still too expensive to go mainstream.
At least, not yet.
Lewis realized he was getting off-track. If someone really had killed Miller, it probably had nothing to do with a virtual reality amusement park, but it was the only lead he had to go on.
Except…
Taking out his phone, he pulled up the contact for Miller’s home number and tapped the call button. Julia would probably be there. He realized he should’ve done this earlier, but the possibility of a murder plot had imposed a monopoly on his thoughts all day.
The voice that answered was quiet, detached. He heard a sniffle, then, “Hello, Des.”
“I just found out. I’m sure you’ve heard this from a lot of people today, but I’m terribly, terribly sorry, Julia.” Lewis had only met Miller’s girlfriend a few times before, but she’d always seemed nice enough. She’d been dating Miller since college though, so if he’d told anyone what he was investigating, it would have been her.
She sniffed again. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” She took a deep breath. “I just don’t know what to believe. The police think he might’ve been on drugs, but I told them he never would’ve done that, not even in Vegas.”
“I didn’t believe that story for a second, either,” he said comfortingly. “But I need to ask you something: Do you know why he went there?”
“I don’t know.” He could picture her at the other end of the line, sitting by a box of tissues, her eyes red from hours of tears. It sounded like she was starting to accept it, but he knew the scar would never leave her. A memory swam into his mind, but he swiftly pushed it away.
“He just started acting strangely,” she continued, her voice soft. “This past week, there was something about him… I can’t even place it. He just seemed on edge, paranoid even. How was he at work?”
“I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary,” Lewis told her. “But he would have shared more with you.”
“He didn’t tell me he was going to Vegas for the weekend until Thursday. I asked him why, but he wouldn’t let me know. Just said there was something he needed to get to the bottom of.”
She blew her nose. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” she said, with a brief laugh. “But I don’t think it was an accident. Something’s not right about all this. I mean, it just doesn’t make sense. I think he got caught up in something. Going to Vegas was one thing, but then why was he all the way out there in the desert?”
Lewis sighed. “I’m sorry, Julia. I really don’t know. But I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m trying to figure out what he was after. Do you remember when he started acting differently?”
“I’m not sure, exactly.” He could hear her wiping her nose again. “I mean, there was the… but no, that wouldn’t make sense.”
“What wouldn’t?”
“Well, Jake kept talking about this game. Kept saying it was really violent and disturbing, but he’d played lots of messed up games before. I mean, you knew him, Jake loved video games.”
“What was it called?” Every muscle in Lewis’s body tensed up. No fucking way, he told himself. There’s no way he was playing it, too. How the hell would he have it? It was only sent to prominent people in the gaming industry.
Of course, Miller was the Technologist’s video game specialist. Not so much a reviewer, but he wrote pieces about new gaming technology and the future of the industry. That had been why he was researching VR theme parks.
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t say. But he got really obsessed with it.”
“How so?”
“He was playing it all the time. I mean, he’d never let me see it–”
“Julia, do you know his desktop password?”
A pause. “Yeah, why?”
“I need you to go onto his computer and try and find this game. Please, it’s very important.”
“Um, okay. Wait, do you think it has something to do with his…?” She didn’t want to say the word death.
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“Okay,” she said. There was another brief pause. “I’m at his desk now. Booting it up.”
Lewis got up and walked over to the window. It was late in the afternoon, the buildings of Santa Monica casting long shadows on the streets below. He could see cars on Wilshire traveling toward the waterfront, probably heading to the pier before sundown. Keys clicked over the phone as Julia put in Miller’s password.
Then, after another few seconds, she said, “Alright, I’m in. Where would it be?”
“I need you to put Rogue Horizon into the search bar.”
“Okay,” she said. More typing. Then, “There’s nothing there.”
Lewis took a deep breath. “Can you look around the desktop for any strange programs. Icons you don’t recognize?”