by J D Astra
The way back was eerily devoid of Valdgeist, but all the better for us to make good time. Otto held up a hand to stop me at the edge of the clearing, and we both crouched down. I crept up beside him, and he motioned silently to the blond-haired figure lounging in the grass at the center of the meadow. Jack’s hair was brown, and if he stuck with his IRL appearance, like me, it definitely wasn’t him. Could it be Carrera?
Otto pulled a short dagger from a sheath at his back so quietly, if I hadn’t been looking at him I wouldn’t have known he’d done it. He motioned for me to stay put, and I was about to protest, but realized having a sneak attack fire ambush would be better than exposing myself, so I nodded.
He circled the tree line until he was positioned behind the apparently sleeping man, then moved in. The sunlight hit the dagger, and he held a hand over the blade to keep it from reflecting.
When Otto was a few feet away, the man tossed, uncrossing his legs and then crossing them again. Otto stopped cold, completely motionless, and I held my breath. Otto moved again, one more step, and then lunged.
Jack
“WHAT IN THE BLOODY ’ell!” The blond-haired man kicked and tugged on Otto’s arm as the hulking Risi pulled the man upright. Otto was definitely stronger and quickly got him under control in a tight headlock, the blade poised at his neck.
“Who are you?” he roared in the man’s ear.
The man sputtered. “I’m just a hired thief here with my ward, wherever he ran off to.”
I moved to the edge of the tree line, ready to pounce at the first sign of Otto in danger.
Otto’s grip tightened, and the man squirmed. “Who are you talking about?”
“Grm J—”
“Who?” Otto loosened his grip, and the man breathed deeply.
“Grim Jack,” he panted.
Another man, a Murk Elf, appeared at the south end of the clearing, and I readied a fireball.
“Don’t take another step,” Otto snarled viciously. “Not unless you’d care to see what the inside of your friend’s throat looks like.”
The Murk Elf at the tree line froze and muttered something inaudible to me, obviously peeved at the man in Otto’s grasp.
“I fell asleep!” the thief replied. “Now please do what the smelly thug says, since I’m a huge fan of not dying. My kind doesn’t respawn like you Travelers—death is sort of a big, permanent deal for us.”
He really was the Murk Elf’s NPC. Was that... Jack? I extinguished my fireball.
“So,” I spoke loudly, drawing the Murk Elf’s attention, “the thief really is with you?” I stepped from the shadow of the trees, and the fear on the Murk Elf man’s face shifted to curious recognition.
“Is that you, Abby?” Jack’s voice warmed my chest and smoothed the hackles on the back of my neck. It was him.
I couldn’t contain my smile as I gave him a little nod. “It’s good to see you, Jack. Otto”—I looked to my loyal NPC holding tight to the threat—“you can let him go.”
He didn’t seem happy about it, but Otto let the thief go and gave him a shove to let him know how lucky he was.
I wanted to run into Jack’s arms and give him a hug, but with the mixed company having just been at each other’s throats, I needed to stay composed. So I walked, slowly. “Otto, why don’t you and the thief—”
“Name’s Cutter, not thief,” the blond-haired man pouted, arms crossed.
Wow, this was Jack’s NPC? I remembered Jack had been a little young at heart, but he was nothing when compared to Cutter. I withheld my comment about the thief’s childishness and gave them my best smile. “Okay. Otto, why don’t you and Cutter get to know each other while Jack and I have a word. Just catch up a bit, then we’ll all be on our way.”
Otto gave me a concerned glance, then said, “Of course.”
He grabbed Cutter by the arm, growling, “This way, thief,” and pulled him toward the tree line behind us.
I grabbed Jack around the shoulders and pulled him into a hug, whispering, “It’s so good to see you.”
I released him and held him at arm’s length, taking in all the interesting choices he’d made. A Dokkalfar, really? Five-o’clock shadow on his chin, tribal tattoos across his extra-muscly biceps, and taller. I knew he was taller because I’d made myself taller too, and he still towered over me.
“You too, Abby.” He smiled, genuinely. “You too. I can’t believe this place.” His eyes roved around the clearing. “V.G.O. is seriously incredible—I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Oh,” I scoffed, “it’s definitely incredible.” His gaze snapped back to me, and he looked confused, head cocked, brow ruffled. I guess it was time to explain some shit. “Will you walk with me a bit?”
He bobbed his head with a smirk and offered me his arm. I linked my arm in his and was hit with the fond memories of our college days. He and I would walk to class just like this, nearly every day. We moved toward the dungeon entrance. I didn’t want to wander into the forest and accidentally attract a Valdgeist.
What the hell was I going to say to him? All of it? I checked the in-game time, 2 PM, then checked the timer on the quest. We had just under an hour to open that door before I would fail the quest line. Had to get him on board, fast.
“You look good, are you a human?” He stammered a bit, still the Jack I knew from all those years ago. Bashful and sweet.
“A Wode.” I nodded. “I wanted to actually look like myself, and the human races were the only ones that offered my natural skin tone. Personally, I’m sort of surprised you went with a Murk Elf. Not that I mind, exactly...” He didn’t look bad, but the black eyes were a little creepy. “You just look so different. I sort of expected you to be human, too.”
“The Murk Elves had some cool racial bonuses,” he said, an excited gleam in his eyes. Then, his chest sort of slumped, and he became quiet. I didn’t mind the silence as we walked, but I could tell by the way he kept taking quick inhales, he wanted to say something else.
“So, how’s stuff been back IRL? I mean aside from the world ending.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I smirked.
“Good to see you haven’t changed too much. Still the same old, awkward Jack I remember.” But, the comment brought my attention from the moment at hand to all the shit I needed to tell him. So. Much. Shit.
“Truthfully, I’m tired.” I sighed. “It’s been a long year for me. A tough year. I lost my dad about six months ago. Large cell lung cancer. Ugly stuff.” I saw his gaunt face in my mind’s eye, but shook it off. “And with the schedule Osmark had us on, I didn’t even get time off for the funeral.”
“Wow, Abby, I’m so sorry to hear about your dad.” He glanced down at me, but I kept my eyes on the grass and waved the apology away.
“It’s the end of the world, Jack, everyone’s going to lose loved ones. Everyone. But to really top things off, despite my best efforts, my mom won’t make the leap to Viridian. She says she’s too old to start over, even though she’s only sixty-five. So, I guess it’s been a pretty shitty year, all things considered. How ’bout you?”
He bobbed his head. “Yep. Pretty much the same. By the way, I never properly thanked you for the capsule. But, you know, thank you—you saved my life, after all.”
“You’re welcome.” I faltered, remembering the horror of watching the first accidental, permanent death. “But maybe you should wait to thank me until you’ve fully transitioned. I’ve seen what happens to people who don’t live through the process, and it’s worse than watching someone die from cancer. I know from personal experience.”
Wow, dumbass. Did you just really? Poor Jack was grimacing, chewing on his lip. Now I was the awkward one.
“So, what’s the deal with the tank?” He grasped at anything to get him out of that shit-show I just laid down.
“Otto? Oh, he’s my starting NPC.” I waved off the question like he’d understand, then realized he might not. “The one who walked me through my intro to the world. A lot of pla
yers end up forming pretty strong bonds with their paired NPC. Is Cutter your starting NPC?” I offered, trying to get the conversation back on a normal track.
“Well, he was in prison with me, if that’s what you mean.” He stumbled, the cogs in his mind turning in his eyes. “Wait, so are you saying everyone starts with their own NPC?”
I dipped my head. “Every player has a completely unique starting scenario with a custom NPC to lead them into the world of V.G.O. The seven Master AI controllers—the Overminds—analyze each user based on that specific user’s internet profile and personal history. Then, the Overminds create a starting NPC guide and a specialized initialization sequence which acts as a sort of hyper-advanced Myers-Briggs Type Indicator.”
Jack’s eyes were getting larger and larger by the second, but this line would take me closer to where we needed the conversation to go.
I went on. “The way each player reacts during the sequence and interacts with their NPC tells the Overmind what type of character class they’ll most likely meld well with.” I decided to give him the “how the sausage is made” shortened version.
“Wow,” he gasped. “That’s incredible. Intense.” His brow furrowed. “But it’s also kind of creepy. How does Osmark Tech get away with profiling people like that? Seems like a massive invasion of privacy—aren’t there laws against that kind of thing?”
“Oh, it’s definitely a breach of privacy,” I said, glancing up at him, “and yeah, there are totally laws against it, but Osmark Tech gets away with it because players sign an information release in the user agreement. Naturally, the release is written in legalese so dense a team of Harvard lawyers couldn’t figure it out, and then it’s tucked away in print so fine, you’d need an electron microscope to find it. But it’s there, and when you agree to play, you accept Osmark’s terms of service, profiling and all.”
Jack exhaled, puffing out his lips. “Man, if players found out, they’d be pissed. Why even go through the hassle anyway? Seems like it’d be a lot easier to just let players choose their class like in every other MMO in the world.”
I shrugged. “That’s not my area of expertise, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because the VR game play is so intense and personal, that if you played a class outside of your personality tolerance it could have adverse side effects. Or...” I considered Osmark’s need for control, for things to all be perfectly in their place. No. It wasn’t time for that yet. I quickly came up with another excuse. “It could be a marketing gimmick. I don’t know. But then, there’s a lot I don’t know about V.G.O.”
We fell quiet as we approached the stone archways. I didn’t want this shit to be going on. I didn’t want this quest to be waiting for me. I didn’t want people like Carrera and Osmark to exist here, or I wanted someone else to be there to take care of it. There was no one else. Just me and Otto. I needed Jack.
“Hey,” he started back up again, trying to avoid the silence he found so awkward. “Out of curiosity, do you know if the NPCs are actually self-aware or not? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my starting NPC’s a real person. Sort of a jerk, but a fully fleshed out jerk.” I nodded along to that. The thief was definitely rude.
Jack kept going, speaking fast, so I knew he was uncomfortable. “He certainly seems to think he’s real—but it’s weird, because from what I’ve gathered, he also genuinely believes V.G.O. isn’t a game. It’s really tripping me out, actually.”
“Honestly...” I sighed. When I first arrived, I thought they were all executing predetermined code, but Otto reacted to me, and not just like a machine would, not like how the other AI had in the lab. Otto was interpreting me, understanding me.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. No one is.” I dropped my head in defeat. “We rushed the testing to get the game online, so I can’t give you a straight answer one way or the other. The NPCs are procedurally generated by drawing on information from all over the internet—history, Facebook profiles, fiction novels, movies, games—which gives them their uncanny realism. I’ve never met an NPC that failed to pass the Turing Test, but whether they’re actually aware?” I sucked in a breath and cocked my shoulder. “Time will tell, I guess.”
We fell quiet again, my thoughts fixated on Otto, the tears in his eyes, his tenacity, his loyalty.
Jack smiled, his voice shifting to something more chipper. “Well, would you like to tell me about this big secret mission you’ve got for us?”
We’d reached the point of no return. If I told him and he ran, that would be the end of it. We’d never know what Osmark was up to until it was already too late. But if I told him and he joined us, it could seal his death warrant. I could condemn him to a life of eternal pain and suffering, with no way out. Could I live with myself if he were captured over my hacking, my stealing? Could I even call myself his friend for sending him that damned scroll?
Shitstorm
I PULLED MY ARM FROM Jack’s, getting the physical distance needed to push him away. We’d only just reunited, and now I wanted him to leave. Even if he didn’t come with me, I was going. But just being around me would put him at risk. Sandra would be hot on my tail after this heist, and anyone who aided me would be on her hit list.
“Jack,” I said as tears crept into my vision, “maybe you should just go. It might’ve been a mistake to drag you into this mess.” The salty drop broke free from my eye and rolled down my cheek. I swiped it away, upset I hadn’t been able to hold it together. It had been a rough couple of hours, with not nearly enough sleep.
“Abby.” He placed a warm hand on my shoulder, and I melted into it. “What in the hell is going on? You’re not a weepy damsel in distress. I’ve never seen you cry, not in all the years I’ve known you.”
I bit back a sob and swallowed.
He gave me a gentle shake. “So why don’t you tell me what’s eating at you? Just get it off your chest.”
“It’s bad, Jack.” I sniffled. “Bad for everyone. Maybe as bad as the asteroid. Even telling you could land you in a lot of trouble.” I chewed my lip and thought of Sandra with her high Dexterity and quick blades, shredding through Jack’s chest and making Murk Elf Swiss cheese out of him.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
He straightened, and his voice went a little deeper and stronger. “Abby, tell me. What could possibly be as bad as the asteroid?”
Oh, what a treat he was in for. I steeled myself for what came next. I paced to a fallen log and sat, patting the spot next to me for Jack to come sit. He definitely didn’t want to be standing for this.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s hard to know where to even begin.” I looked to the tree line for inspiration on what step of the messed-up chain of events I should start at.
“Jack, there’s just so much crazy shit going on. Like mind-blowing, world shaking, secret conspiracy, Illuminati shit. Tin-foil hat shit. And I haven’t shared this with anyone else because I don’t know who’d believe me or who I could trust. Most of my ‘friends’”—I air quoted the word, since I hadn’t had any IRL friends for years—“work for Osmark Tech, and I sure don’t trust anyone there. Not anymore.”
I took a deep breath after dumping that out. Jack had survived the first wave of madness without batting an eye, so, let’s see if he could take some more. “It all started a few months ago. It was a typical day; I was checking a line of code when I ran across an oddity. Someone had added an unauthorized, locked quest, accessible only by special players. There’d been all kinds of other crazy stuff leading up to this, so when this popped up, I decided to take a peek.” I tried to justify my actions, but what I had done was wrong, in the strictest sense. “Thought it might offer some clue about what in the hell was going on around the company. That’s when I discovered there were hundreds of these locked areas scattered all around V.G.O., inserted by Robert Osmark’s inner circle.”
Jack interjected, “Are they supposed to be some kind of content for future patches or expansions?”
>
I clicked my tongue. “At first, I thought so too, but I kept looking. Digging.” I paused. It felt dirty not to admit the whole truth. It wasn’t just gentle code investigation of the stuff I had access to. I’d been... “Hacking,” I finally admitted.
I thought of my last hack, the one where I ripped off the very scroll that got us here. That code was so deep under wraps, so hard to get at, there was no way any of the floor engineers would’ve ever noticed it.
“These areas were never meant for the general player population,” I continued. “These areas were built into the game as rewards for some of the big financial backers of V.G.O.”—I thought of Carrera and gritted my teeth—“people with lots of money and lots of power.”
That led me right into the dirty deal. “Here’s the thing, Osmark Tech knew about the asteroid long before the general public ever did. The government didn’t release the info to the masses because they didn’t want to cause premature panic, but my boss, Robert Osmark, knew. I’m sure of it.” If he hadn’t, he was just a horrible, greedy toad, and high-ranking scum across the world really wanted to play V.G.O.
“He didn’t tell us peons”—I gestured loosely to myself—“obviously, but in hindsight it’s clear. He had us working around the clock, paying out overtime through the nose, rushing through beta trials to get things up and running ahead of schedule.” I thought back to that crazy HR associate, Alan Campbell, who’d dropped himself into V.G.O. over a year ago... His trial had prevented the whole project from being shut down and helped us discover better, gentler logout methods, which were totally unnecessary now, but the poor bastard died for it. Made me wonder if he’d really done it against Osmark’s will or if Osmark had pressured him.
I snapped myself back into talking at a gentle prompt from Jack. “Then his inner circle started adding in all of these extra features last minute. To top things off, a few weeks before the media started to carry the story about the asteroid, Osmark himself dropped the news on us worker bees—sort of an extra work-your-asses-off incentive.” I scoffed. Jack seemed to be taking it okay, maybe. The crease in his forehead was getting pretty deep.
