Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

Joey looks around at the crowd.
“I see we’ve some new faces tonight. Thanks for coming.”
He presses his palms flat on the table.
“You’ve done what each of us has done at some point in the last few years: you’ve realised there’s something deeply wrong with our world. Those we’re told are leaders, and those we’ve had held up as experts, are all lying.”
Sounds of wordless agreement swell, then fade.
“Some of you have already lost friends and family over this. For those who haven’t, trust me when I say it’ll happen to you. Every person returning here tonight has been cancelled by people they thought strong. People they thought loyal. It’s a hard path we walk.”
There are nods. Sympathetic glances and pats on the shoulder are exchanged.
“You can’t explain to them. You’ll try, but until each of them takes the steps you have, they’ll reject the truths you offer.”
“What truths are they, though?”
Joey swings his gaze to meet that of a short, wiry guy. He sees himself reflected in the lenses of the spectacles this retro-styled apparition is wearing. Are those video glasses? No. Just deeply vintage. The exotic earbuds kind of spoil the ensemble, though.
“Welcome, friend. Before I answer, let me ask where you are in the Matrix? Shadow government? Slave cities? Project Eurostate? Tartarian Empire?”
He adjusts his glasses.
“I’m from beyond the ice wall.”
Everybody turns their attention to him.
Grinning, Joey straightens up.
“Another veteran reality pilot! Well, those territories are still out there, but only a select few will get to see them.”
The short guy nods.
“Because of the Satanic Cabal?”
Joey waves his hands dismissively.
“That’s just another diversion. Tartaria didn’t fall. It’s the hidden Fourth Reich. Until we’re ready to colonise the lands beyond the wall, they’ll keep us here. No point in invading until we’re sure to conquer.”
The short guy bursts out laughing.
“Oh, by the gods! A new conspiracy!”
He leans forward to stare Joey in the eye.
“Is it your truth, or did someone give it to you?”
Joey nods.
“Took me a while to see it, but the only thing that makes sense is we’re being restrained.”
“You think the stagnation has a cause beyond the maniacal thirst for power?”
“Without question. There’s no way the population of an entire planet would let itself be ruled by a tiny group of self-centred sociopaths without some sort of intervention.”
“Something beyond the abilities of those sociopaths and their schemes?”
“Absolutely.”
The short guy smiles.
“Can I run the alternative past you all?”
There’s a pause, then nods and looks of surprise.
Joey grins.
“Go for it.”
The short guy claps his hands together.
“All of the conspiracy theories are true, but not all are true for this Earth.”
A voice comes from the back of the room.
“What?”
The short guy checks his bulky wristwatch.
“Quick version, then: beyond the ice wall are twenty-six other Earths. Each has two active conspiracies. However, right now, your Earth has no conspiracies because it’s the control world for this century. The simple truth is that you only have yourselves to blame for what you’re living through.”
Joey looks about at the stunned faces, then bursts out laughing.
“That’s too far gone to even be funny.”
The short guy slowly looks about, then shrugs.
“Have it your ways, then. Cheerio.”
He turns and leaves. People chat and laugh. More drinks are ordered. The evening carries on.

Joey wakes just before dawn, heart pounding. Why did the short guy count how many people were nodding?