Survival Of The Fittest

They called it compassionate leave. Realistically it was another form of sick leave, in Jessica’s opinion. She was simply incapable of doing her job, so much the same as if she’d broken a bone or contracted a disease, she was to stay home and recover. Jessica McKown didn’t think of herself as a cynic, so to speak, but her brand of realism often had her husband calling her that. It wasn’t pessimism, she would insist, just pointing out what’s true, or likely to be true.

The day of the trip she’d been a little worried, but not surprised entirely, that Evie hadn’t been in touch. Exuberance, forgetfulness, poor signal, it could’ve been any number of reasons why her teenage daughter hadn’t managed to send a text to say she’d arrived safe. Evie was a cocky git at the best of times, often insisting on walking home late rather than waste money on a cab, she thought herself invincible that way. So it wasn’t out of character for her to forget to or neglect to touch base. Just a slight niggling worry. Realism, sure, but this time it was positive. Her dear Jacob couldn’t argue with that one. He himself had already started worrying by then, and she’d playfully chided him for his cynical pessimism.

The next day, she regretted the dig. The dread had taken root in her too, a little knot in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away no matter how she tried to think of other things. It writhed, and over the hours it grew. By the third day it consumed her. In a perverse way, the news of the crash breaking had been a relief. The tension broke. They didn’t have to fear the worst any more: it was already here.

Jacob McKown already worked from home most days, so it had been a simple matter to just not ask him back in for the near future. When he felt able, he contributed what he could. Nothing was expected of him. Jessica on the other hand took quite some time to adapt to not being at the school on her weekdays. She spent most of her hours in bed for the first couple of days, eyes long since run dry of tears, but still attempting to weep. Her husband’s company had been a godsend, she genuinely feared what might’ve become of her were she alone with the grief. Or indeed what might’ve become of their son Davis. Jacob was able to be a brave face for both of them, a beacon - if faltering - of normality prevailing despite it all. He looked after the two of them until Jessica too had the strength to face the world again.

By the time Christmas came around, the couple would hate to admit it, but they felt closer to each other than they had since their marriage all those years ago. A little silver lining to Evie’s death, the shared sorrow had all but forced them back into each other‘s arms, dissolved all the little squabbles and resentments. In her memory, the family had decided to leave Evie’s gifts under the tree, though they weren’t entirely sure what they’d do with them after the holiday season? Donate them, most likely. It had been almost a month. They were surviving. By January they’d face work and school again, they’d pretend not to still be in agony, that the sight of the empty chair at the dinner table wasn’t still a gut punch. They’d have to.



It was on a Friday that the knife finally twisted.

Davis had just left for school as normal, or normal as could be. Jessica was already on the road. Just Jacob in the house, privately worrying that his son might never be his usual upbeat self again, that the morose mood he’d had all December might last a lifetime. Early on in his day he’d had the notion that one of his colleagues had been acting odd: Abdi, not someone he was all that familiar with, but he knew the man had an outdoorsy streak that was the subject of some mild joking from time to time. Odd that a data engineer would ever want to go outside, ha ha, very funny. Same kind of gentle ribbing he himself got for his music taste, it was all in good fun, no harm. But that Friday, since a little after 8, Abdi had seemed a little absent in the team chat. His voice seemed distracted, he often needed multiple nudges to get his attention. Until finally, close to the usual 10 am coffee break, that little almost-sarcastic nod at having a normal office lifestyle, that Abdi explained what was up.

A.LaRue wrote: Hey Jacob, you got a moment?

J.McKown wrote: Yeah, you good? Been on another planet this morning man.

A.LaRue wrote: Listen I

A.LaRue wrote: I wasn’t sure if I should tell you

A.LaRue wrote: But I can’t just sit on it, you deserve to know

J.McKown wrote: Come on, what’s up?

A.LaRue wrote: Okay I don’t know if it’s real, but, there’s this stream I noticed this morning. Called Scenes of the Field. Didn’t really think much of it, but it seemed like it was getting lots of bot activity. So I’m curious right? Why promote some random field recordings of snow so hard?

J.McKown wrote: Where’s this going, Abdi?

It had of course occurred to Jacob a tad sooner than it had to the man on the other end of the text chat. Because he’d already been set up to give the notion some thought. Those initials were awfully familiar, and it was a weird way to phrase a title like that. Kind of forced, right?

A.LaRue wrote: I tuned in, and after a few seconds there was this weird flash. So I went back frame by frame, and there’s one frame that’s all blacked out except silhouetted characters: V8

A.LaRue wrote: I’m sorry man, I just had to tell you. Your daughter was in that crash, wasn’t she?

A.LaRue wrote: Jacob? You there?

Jacob hadn't said anything that night. He waited patiently for the news to break officially. To inform him that somehow everything he'd seen had been faked, some deep AI experiment to generate incredibly convincing images. He could believe that, if he forced himself to.

That didn't stop him from spending most of the next day watching just the same. He was smart, he covered his tracks so as not to let even the family's ISP know what he was up to, let alone his wife and son. Unless they were to walk in and find him transfixed, unable to look away from Evie's slow recovery from being stabbed with intent to kill. He didn't know Claire Haig well, didn't think the girl had been much of a close friend to Evie in their normal lives, but his heart swelled to see her care for his daughter while he remained powerless. At least somebody was there, somebody cared.

“Would you mind giving me a moment? Just me, my family, and whatever sick people are watching for fun?”

Being mentioned brought the man to attention. A few moments passed, he was faintly aware of another figure appearing at the door before leaving, Claire left too, perhaps she'd find out who that was. Jacob could've found another feed that might've provided some clues, but he wouldn't tune out Evie speaking directly to him for anything.

"God, where do I... I mean, I hope you're not listening, you know? You shouldn't have to see this. Like, I already died, right? Every other time this happened, they faked the deaths, didn't they?"

Yeah. You could say that. They'd already mourned her. Were still in the process, really. It wasn't over. It probably never would've been, not really, but at least they were in the process. A process now cruelly turned on its head.

"Anyway. Um. Hi. I'm alive. Been better, Alex stabbed me with a spear, but Claire did a great job patching it up, and it wasn't as bad as it could've been I guess? I... fuck, what do I say? I love you, obviously. Hope you're all coping okay."

On screen, Evie's face visibly sank. Jacob could make an educated guess what was going through her head, as it was going through his too: she wouldn't be surviving much longer anyway. The only hope otherwise was a false one at best. A cruel jest at worst, requiring her to come home with at least one death on her conscience.

"Um... I stashed Christmas presents under my bed. Don't know if you've found them already, but I hope you like them. Or liked them? Is there a time delay on these? I think there is. And um. What else? Oh, uh, while you're under there, my old bag with all the badges, uh... don't look in there, just throw it out."

The girl's father couldn't quite resist a slight smirk, a slight chuckle, at that. Facing death, and here she was still worried about being embarassed in-absentia. He chose not to imagine what exactly she had stashed in there.

"Um. Yeah. Oh. Hopefully I'll run into Kelsey Brewer at some point, so, um, fair warning if I do and you're watching that, if-when it happens. I um. I was gonna have her come by over Christmas, and we'd tell you together. I... I like her."

Jessica McKown owed her husband $5, he had called it about a year prior.

"Yeah. I'm... I'm gay. Super gay. Didn't really plan on this being how I told you."

The image of Evie gave a wry smile, laughed a little, clutched at her wounded flank when the motion disturbed it.

"So. Yeah. I dunno what else I can say to you. Love you. Miss you. I hope you stop watching before... I mean... either I'm gonna die here, or... I hope you can forgive me if I don't?"

A sound at the door disturbed Jacob. He quickly boss-key'd the incriminating screens away, pulled up a more acceptable news article informing him of what he'd already known for a day. He could only hope his acting skills held up when called on to pretend otherwise.