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“Why did you pull me out?”
“The little girl was not going to recover.” Victoria said.
“She was starting to breathe. All I needed was a little more time, but you pulled me out,” I yelled in frustration.
“In another few seconds, you both would have stopped existing,” she replied calmly.
“This is what happened three seconds later.”
Victoria stood motionless in the center of the room. The blue beams that I had first seen at the Luxor, shot from her eyes. The holographic image that took shape, showed my last moments with the little girl. I was hunched over her when her body began getting pelted with grayish white rocks that came faster and more furious than I had remembered. Then the image faded to black. The blue beams disappeared from Victoria’s eyes.
“That was when the building thirty-seven feet to your right exploded after being hit by a barrel bomb. The girl and eleven other people were killed by the blast and flying debris. You would have made it thirteen.”
“How do you know that's what happened if I wasn't there?”
“Because your connection with the little girl was strong, I was able to do what you would call transference. In the instant that you were pulled out, as you called it, the little girl opened her eyes.”
“But your vision only lasted three seconds after I was gone. That would mean that the last thing she saw was death and destruction.”
Slumping into one of the two leather chairs in the living room, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. A feeling of loss and despair came over me.
“I can’t do this,” I said softly. “Get yourself another transmitter. I’m pulling the plug.” Victoria sat down in the other chair and turned to face me.
“I chose you because, in your mind, I saw someone who has weathered a lifetime of adversity and become stronger instead of weaker. One of your species once wrote. ‘That which doesn’t kill me...”
“Makes me stronger,” I interrupted. “Friedrich Nietzsche.”
“You are uniquely qualified to do this. I need you to do this, not for me but for your world.”
“So we can save the world from itself? I’m afraid that’s an uphill battle.”
“In your Earth’s chronicles, I read that every battle worth winning is an uphill battle. You once told me that your one objective in life was to leave this place a little better off than you found it. Do you still feel that way?”
“Of course, but I don’t know if I can watch another child die as a helpless pawn of a war born out of a lust for power and wealth. I know that we humans must seem barely able to reach the bottom rung of the evolutionary ladder and you may be right, but we don’t always see everything in black and white. Unlike you, we also live with an emotional shade of gray.”
“That is what I am counting on.”
“What do you mean?”
“I researched the war in Syria before I sent you there. That girl was only one of more than 14,000 children who have ceased to exist since the conflict began eight years ago. The numbers started small but have increased exponentially over time.” “You’re not exactly making me feel better,” I said.
“You came face-to-face with one of those children. Use your skill as a writer to tell the world what you saw and felt.”
“How can I write about her without giving away exactly how I came to be there in the first place?”
“Because, although it will be real to you, it will not be real to your readers.”
“I’m not sure that I understand.”
“Create a fictional story about a fictional person living in the real world. You will take many more of these journeys. Each time, you will gain an intimate knowledge of the places you visit and the people you meet. Use that knowledge to bring your readers into your stories. Think of it as virtual reality for the written word. No one will ever question fictional stories.”
“But how will people even know that these stories exist?”
“You already have the platform, The Writer’s Reality blog. You have been using it to relate random thoughts and ideas. It is time to make your thoughts mean something more and, in the process, work towards your goal of leaving this planet a little better off than you found it.”
“And just how do you expect me to earn a living if everything I write is free? Shelter and food come with a price tag.”
“Use your writing skills to make it something that people will want to read. I can assimilate your blog into Internet search engines and social media. Your readers will find you and the money to exist will follow.”
I had to admit that her argument had a degree of validity to it. The key to Internet marketing is wide exposure and, to that end, Victoria could be an extremely effective marketing tool. If enough people visited my blog on a regular basis, I might be able to convince advertisers of its worth. It's not as if I have an extravagant lifestyle, anyway. All I have is Internet, I rarely eat out, and I won't look like an extra in a Deliverance remake as long as Dollar Shave Club stays in business. Truth be told, I was already too far in to think about getting out. Besides, I have admit that a part of me didn’t really want this insane ride to come to an end. I thrive on challenge and pushing the envelope. If Victoria was right, The Writer’s Reality blog would become the story of my life.