I knew what Chloe was saying, and she was right; I should never have revealed game-specific details related to Christina’s World in front of that group. There are certain things, like The Circle and The Prescott Competition Manifesto, that are generally considered acceptable topics of conversations among civilians （i.e., nonplayers）。 But to speak in detailed terms about part of a puzzle related to a recent iteration of the game? It wasn’t something people seriously interested in Rabbits did. It was considered disrespectful—and out of bounds.
I unfolded my arms and put my head down on the table. “I don’t know what got into me,” I said. “I’m tired.”
“I think you need to stop,” Chloe said.
I looked up from the table.
Chloe was staring at me, and in the entire time I’ve known her, I don’t remember ever seeing her this serious about anything.
“Stop what?”
“I’m not kidding, K. No more Rabbits.”
Even though the Magician had demanded we stop playing, hearing Chloe say the same thing was sobering.
“You’re really suggesting we give up now, when we’ve just started making some progress?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “No more talking about Christina’s World, I promise.”
“It’s not just Christina’s World, K. Baron’s dead. Players are going missing. You’re making up movies that don’t exist, and you saw how the Magician looked the last time we saw him. Something bad is happening.”
Chloe was right, of course. Baron was gone, and I’d been experiencing events that were…deeply out of the ordinary. Crazy shit was definitely happening, but I felt like that was precisely why we needed to keep going.
“Alan Scarpio told me something was wrong with the game,” I said. “Now that the eleventh iteration has started, we need to figure out what he meant before it’s too late.”
“K…” Chloe said as she clasped her hands together on the table.
“What?”
“Don’t freak out.”
“Okay…”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” I said.
“You know, you’re the only person who saw Alan Scarpio.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So…maybe it was like the Richard Linklater movie or The Kingfish Cafe.”
“What are you saying, Chloe?”
But I knew exactly what she was saying.
“I’m worried you might be experiencing some kind of…relapse. I don’t want to have to visit you in that section of the hospital again. I’m not going to let what happened to my sister happen to you.”
I shook my head. “That’s not going to happen.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I’m serious. No way. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not fucking fine,” Chloe said. “And if you don’t respect me enough to be honest, then I’m out.”
And with that, Chloe walked out and left me sitting alone in the diner.
21
TENSPEED AND BROWN SHOE
I needed something to take my mind off the game and the conversation I’d just had with Chloe at the diner, so I went back to my apartment and put on Jean-Michel Jarre’s 1976 masterpiece Oxygène.
I listen to Oxygène often, not only because it’s a perfect blend of some of my favorite analog synthesizers, but also because Jean-Michel Jarre recorded that album himself at home in a makeshift studio. I love early records by Todd Rundgren, Guided by Voices, and Lenny Kravitz for the same reason. There’s just something about having the freedom to do whatever you want—combined with the reality of limited physical and financial resources—that allows for transcendent works of art.
But the music wasn’t working.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Chloe or Rabbits.
There was nothing I could do about Chloe at the moment, so I turned my attention to the game.
Everything had started with Alan Scarpio in that diner.
I opened my laptop and dug up the video we’d discovered on his phone.
What was I missing?
I ran through everything we’d found on Tabitha Henry and wondered if somewhere else in the city, Swan and her pet twins were doing the same thing.
After I’d rewatched the video three times, I fell down a social media clickhole that began with my looking into anybody connected to Tabitha, and ended with me checking out a series of photographs on a popular Jeff Goldblum fan page.