Awaken Online- Flame

by Travis Bagwell

  Joan Walts. Finn’s brain supplied the name. She was in her forties, a veteran school administrator. He also recalled her fondness for print books – a relic of a dead era. My daughter’s principal. Except Julia graduated high school a long time ago…

  Even more strange, Joan wasn’t addressing him.

  Or, at least, not quite.

  “Hello, Joan. To what do I owe the pleasure of this trip,” another voice replied.

  This one came from a wheelchair parked across from Joan’s desk. Finn stared in shock as he saw himself sitting there speaking with Julia’s principal. He looked a few years younger, although dark circles hung under his eyes, and his skin was pale, as though he hadn’t ventured outside in months.

  A few facts began to click into place. The Seer had mentioned that the orb allowed him to observe his own memories, which meant that he must still be inside the game. Yet this scene hadn’t taken place before Rachael’s death. No, this was later – at least a few years.

  “You’re looking well, all things considered,” Joan ventured tentatively, gesturing at the chair that Finn’s doppelganger occupied.

  He watched himself grimace. “I’m surviving, which is the best I suppose any of us can say,” his clone responded in a dry tone.

  Finn shifted in place, causing the bookshelf beside him to creak. Yet the pair in the room didn’t seem to notice. That made sense. This must be some sort of simulation. To prove that out, he waved his hand in Joan’s face and then shouted loudly. No reaction.

  The scene simply continued as though nothing had happened.

  “Let’s not dance around the subject. Why exactly am I here?” Finn’s doppelganger demanded. “As I’m sure you’re aware, it isn’t an easy task for me to get around these days. A call would have sufficed.”

  Joan tilted her head, looking hesitant. “Well, this is a conversation I felt might be better to have in person. Technology can sometimes be rather impersonal. We lose out on that human connection,” she ventured, giving him a meaningful look.

  Finn’s double looked like he would much rather connect with anyone else. “Well, I’m here now, I guess. I assume this relates to Julia? Your call was rather vague.”

  Joan grimaced. “Yes, yes. It seems we had something of an… altercation, involving your daughter.”

  “Is she okay?” the doppelganger asked, glancing at the door.

  “Physically, yes. Emotionally and punitively, no.” Joan sighed. “I guess there’s no sense beating around the bush. Your daughter is in trouble. She hacked into the administration’s mainframe and altered an upcoming exam.”

  Both copies of Finn were staring at Joan in surprise. Finn remembered this now, a hollow ache lingering in his stomach. Julia had only been…

  “She’s only 13,” his doppelganger replied incredulously. “You’re suggesting that she somehow cracked the school’s encryption.” He shook his head. “Do you have any proof?”

  Joan grimaced. “Yes, actually. She signed the altered exam and left a personal note for her instructor. Although, I’m not sure I should repeat her exact wording. She was quite graphic in expressing her frustration with how easy she felt the course material to be.”

  Silence descended upon the room, the crippled Finn’s eyes widening in surprise before dropping to the floor as he tried to process what Joan was telling him. Meanwhile, the real Finn was wondering what exactly that note had said.

  Although, he could probably fill in the blanks. Especially since he had received a similar taunting message on his workstation only a week or two ago.

  To her credit, the principal looked more sympathetic than angry. “I… I believe that Julia wanted to get caught,” she offered cautiously. “She made no effort to hide her tracks, and the signature and note suggest that she wanted to announce what she had done.”

  Finn just shook his head. “I don’t understand. Was she attempting to cheat?”

  “Not exactly,” Joan replied. “Like I said, she altered the exam – she didn’t attempt to steal the original answers or distribute them to the other students. Julia actually made the exam much more difficult, answered her own questions, and then signed her name at the bottom – with a few emojis.”

  The principal glanced out a nearby window. “Frankly, this was one of the more unusual examples of vandalism or cheating that I’ve had to deal with during my career. And trust me, that’s saying something.”

  “Why would she do that, though?” Finn asked quietly.

  “That’s actually what I wanted to speak with you about,” Joan replied. “As I said, I feel that Julia was trying to get someone’s attention.” A brief pause and the principal took a deep breath. “I know things have been… difficult for your family since your wife passed.” Finn’s double physically winced at the mention of Rachael, his eyes still on the floor.

  With a flick of her wrist, Joan pulled up Julia’s file, several glowing blue displays suddenly hovering in the air. “Looking at Julia’s records, I can see that the trauma affected her schoolwork initially, but she eventually stabilized. That is until about two months ago.”

  Finn still said nothing, Joan eyeing him and letting the implicit question hang in the air. Although, when Finn’s doppelganger made no move to answer, she sighed and continued.

  “My guess is that this relates to her brother Gracen leaving for college,” Joan suggested in a gentle voice. “Since then, Julia has started acting out. Little things at first. Rude or belligerent behavior with her instructors. A few missed classes. Yet these smaller outbursts have been escalating, culminating in this.”

  “Get to the point,” Finn croaked, his voice sounding hoarse.

  Joan’s eyes widened, and she coughed to cover her surprise, leaning back in her chair. “I-I think Julia is trying to reach out. To you, would be my guess. Your reputation in programming and artificial intelligence certainly precedes you. I think she’s looking for a connection…” Finn’s doppelganger refused to look at her and simply stared at the floor, his fists clenched.

  Joan hesitated as she noted Finn’s tense posture, as though uncertain how to frame her next words. “She already lost one parent, then her brother, and maybe she feels like she is losing her father…”

  The real Finn sat there frozen and rigid; his eyes firmly fixed on Joan’s face as he listened to her explanation. This wasn’t what he remembered… at least, not exactly. His eyes drifted to Joan’s console, circling the desk to look at the results. That was how he noticed a small prompt open on screen – only to quickly close. Then the computer’s mic flashed on, a small green dot indicating that it was online. His brow furrowed.

  “Or maybe the school has failed to challenge her properly,” Finn’s double retorted, finally glancing up at Joan. There was anger there – and pain. “Your data would suggest that possibility as well, and that’s also consistent with the alteration of the test questions.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “You said it yourself,” Finn interjected harshly. “She didn’t attempt to cheat. She didn’t steal any test answers or affect the other students’ grades. She set herself a much more difficult obstacle, and she overcame it. I’d say she’s a far cry from some sort of common thief,” he bit out.

  “Look, I understand your anger, but I’m not trying to ambush you. I simply see a girl in pain,” Joan retorted, her expression hardening. “That was the point of speaking with you today.”

  “And I see a girl with exceptional talent, one that is being suppressed by this institution,” Finn bit back, his eyes flashing.

  The two stared at one another, neither backing down. “Then perhaps we should instead discuss the school’s reaction to this—”

  “You won’t punish her,” Finn snapped. “Unless, of course, you’d like it publicly known that this school is suppressing its students’ gifts, particularly in the wake of what happened to my family.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Joan asked.

  Finn stared her down. “I am warning y
ou. I may be a shadow of the man I once was, but my name still carries weight, especially in academic circles. I’m more than capable of turning this into a PR disaster for your school. You will reinstate Julia, let her return to her classes, and try better in the future to tailor her curriculum to her exceptional talents. Do we understand one another?”

  Anger flashed in Joan’s eyes, but she swallowed it, trying to maintain her composure. “I understand perfectly.”

  “Then it sounds like we’re done here,” Finn said, rotating his chair to exit the room.

  As his hand touched the door handle, Joan spoke up one last time, “I know you’re in pain, Finn. And your daughter is too. Ignoring it or burying it won’t let it heal.”

  He hesitated, a grimace flitting across his face. Yet he didn’t turn to look back at Joan. “Next time, a call will suffice,” was his only reply. Then he opened the door and wheeled himself into the hallway – the real Finn hot on his heels.

  Julia sat just outside the door, and Finn noticed that she quickly shoved a tablet back into her bag as she saw his clone roll out of the room. Although Finn’s doppelganger didn’t seem to notice the movement. He also didn’t seem to notice the shadows under his daughter’s eyes or the way her fingers fumbled with the zipper on her bag.

  Yet the real Finn did… this time.

  “Am… am I in trouble?” she asked quietly.

  “No,” Finn’s doppelganger said curtly. “You can go back to class. I expect you will find your lessons much more challenging from now on.”

  Julia’s eyes widened, searching his face, and Finn could have sworn he saw a hint of moisture glisten there. Yet Finn’s clone didn’t give an inch, his expression distant and stony.

  “Fine. Good. I’m sorry you had to come down here,” his daughter blurted out quickly, her voice sounding strained. Then she whirled and charged off down the hall, tugging her bag over her shoulder. Finn’s double just sat there, staring after her but his eyes unseeing, as though his thoughts were a million miles away.

  Finn remembered this differently – so differently. He didn’t recall the fight with Joan, or the principal’s thinly veiled concern. And hadn’t he been proud of Julia? That hack was impressive. He could have sworn he had complimented her… yet his doppelganger hadn’t uttered a single word of acknowledgment.

  Finn shook his head, anger flaring in the back of his mind. Maybe the game world was messing with him. For all he knew, this could be bullshit, and his memories were accurate. Maybe the Seer was just trying to get a rise out of him again.

  Yet as he watched his daughter storm away – hiding her tears – Finn wavered.

  Could he have missed these details before? Had his judgment been clouded by his own anger and pain? That seemed plausible. Looking back on it, Gracen leaving for college had signaled a change in his daughter, but he had always chalked it up to the normal pain and growth of adolescence. Typical teenage stuff.

  He also couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this could be… true.

  That single whisper of doubt was enough to unwind his anger, making him second guess his own memories. What if he was wrong? And worse, if he had been oblivious here, what else had he missed over the years?

  Those two questions danced and spun in his head, even as the edges of the scene began to break apart, drifting away into streamers of gray mist. At the same time, the edges of his own mind seemed to fray and tatter. Guilt and regret welled in his chest and fully beat down the feeble flame of anger that had briefly sputtered to life.

  Then the mist consumed him once more.

  ***

  The world soon resolved back into focus, and Finn found himself once more in the Seer’s tent. The goddess sat across from him, the gray orb resting on the table between them. As Finn’s eyes focused on the crystal, he could see phantom shapes within the sphere – a hint of a wheelchair and a school office. Then the images swiftly began to break apart into tatters of smoke. Finally, there was nothing… only chaotic tendrils of mist.

  “What the hell was that?” he croaked, rubbing at his eyes.

  “One of your memories,” the Seer answered simply.

  “That wasn’t how I remember that scene. I didn’t fight with Joan. I-I encouraged Julia…” Yet even as he said it, the words felt weak – uncertain. Almost like he was asking the goddess for confirmation.

  She appraised him for a long moment, her expression uncannily similar to Joan’s – one of compassion and sympathy. Pity. That’s what he saw shining there.

  “I didn’t… I couldn’t…” Finn was struggling to form the words.

  “Your kind’s memories are tricky things,” she said finally. “They are like oil paintings. Even the first draft is an impression, an imperfect recreation of the event itself. Yet each time you access those memories, you paint a new layer overtop the old, adding small changes and tweaks. Those alterations grow and compound on themselves over time until the current painting almost doesn’t resemble the original.”

  She peered at him, her eyes burning. “However, the original painting still exists under all of those layers of self-deceit. The orb strips them away, showing you the truth – or something as close to the truth as you will ever come.”

  Finn squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the tears that he felt coming. If that was the truth, then he had ignored his daughter’s pain, ignored her cry for help, and ignored Joan’s helping hand. He also knew the events that came after that encounter. That had been a turning point. Julia’s rebellious streak had only gotten worse – her hacks increasingly audacious. Almost like she was daring the world to catch her.

  Or trying to get someone’s attention…

  He wanted to reject that answer; he wanted to give in to the anger again. Accuse the Seer of manipulating him. It was tempting – so much easier than facing the truth. But he could still visualize the pained expression on his doppelganger’s face. Hadn’t he already done that? Turned the situation around on someone else… blamed Joan instead of focusing on the real culprit. And what had it cost him?

  Besides, a better question now hovered in his mind.

  “Why did you show this to me?” Finn bit out, his eyes snapping up and meeting the Seer’s knowing gaze.

  “As I said before, to help you, Finn,” she replied simply. “Passion can be a lonesome flame, the heat pushing others away and burning those brave enough to reach out.”

  She rested her hand against his. “But it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be blinded by your own blaze. You can embrace others. You can fix some past mistakes. You can share that enthusiasm with others. And together, you can stoke your passion into a truly spectacular inferno.”

  Finn shook his head. “I’m not so sure I can fix this.”

  The Seer’s eyes crinkled at the corners, the only indication of a smile behind her silken mask. “Maybe or maybe not. But you can try.”

  Finn wasn’t so sure. He still wasn’t certain he believed any of this.

  A sigh and the Seer’s hand left his own. “But for now, you must rest. Think upon what I’ve said – and what you’ve seen here. If you truly wish to accomplish your quest and attain your prize, you will need the help of others.”

  As Finn raised his eyes, opening his mouth to question her, he saw the goddess reach forward and felt her tap his forehead. Immediately, a prompt opened before him.

  System Notice

  A system administrator has frozen your account and initiated a forced logout sequence. You will be automatically logged out in 10 seconds and will be unable to return to this world for eight real-world hours.

  “No, wait… I still have work to do,” Finn pleaded as the world around him began to bleed away into darkness.

  “I know,” the Seer answered, flames burning in her eyes. “But it will be waiting for you when you return.”

  Chapter 26 - Manufactured

  Bilel’s Journal – Entry 114

  I’ll admit, I was upset after the accident. Or perhaps “frustrated”
is a better word. It felt as though my progress had stalled completely, that I was pulling at threads that led nowhere.

  That is, until I had an epiphany today. My original attempt to destroy the mana crystal failed spectacularly. But perhaps I was on to something. In my addled state, I failed to refine the question I was seeking to answer. That is a mistake I will remedy now:

  Can a healthy mage with intact Najima actively absorb mana?

  Our bodies do this normally, that much is certain from my observations of my own Najima. However, this process is natural – passive. Could a mage undertake this process intentionally? It certainly seems possible. I will need to repeat my experiment, perhaps attempting to absorb different types of mana in differing quantities. And most definitely with better safety procedures in place…

  ***

  By the time Finn could log back in, he had to admit that he felt better.

  Grudgingly. And only after a lot of cussing.

  He had been in a worse condition than he realized.

  Nearly a full day without food or movement had his stomach rumbling and his muscles groaning in protest at even the slightest shift of his limbs. His head ached from lack of sleep and what he guessed was stress. AO might not be real, but his physiological reactions certainly were. The body didn’t process stress in pleasant ways.

  Speaking of which, his bowels and bladder had apparently gone on a very messy strike while he was logged in. His joking to Julia aside, he had been forced to have Daniel bring in the old medical equipment he had used during his recovery – replete with a feeding tube. He suspected this wouldn’t be his last marathon session plugged into the headset, and it was better to be prepared. He was numb from the waist down anyway and wouldn’t feel the more-unpleasant medical accessories, so he didn’t see the harm.

  And then he had even managed to sleep. Real sleep. In a bed.