by E. M. Hardy
The woman he met yesterday… Ananya. Ananya’s death. The dried, blackened hand dangling from the stretcher. Reports of similar mysterious deaths on the news. Why did he care? What was the connection between Ananya’s death and the reports on the news?
(Good boys do what they’re told, ignore what they’re told to ignore. Bad boys, however, get hurt. You’re not a bad boy, are you?)
Glenn groaned while another wave of migraine assaulted his head. He stumbled, clutching his temple with one hand as he used the other to brace himself against a wall.
The robotic clerk of the convenience store walked out of its doors, its pale synthetic skin and blinking system lights on its forehead marking it as separate from the average human. A small wave of carrier drones followed it out the opened doors, no doubt hovering away to deliver drinks, snacks, cigarettes, and other goods to waiting customers near its location.
“Are you okay, sir? Do you require medical aid?” It walked up beside him, arm outstretched for support. Glenn took that arm, waited for the pain to pass.
“I’m… I’m fine. Just got dizzy, is all.” He inhaled deeply, trying to break through the haze of his foggy memories. This was information he sorely needed, and he needed to concentrate on something that would focus his thought.
Yes, Ananya. Awkward Ananya, who asked him out for coffee. She died. It was an unnatural death. Why did she die an unnatural death? Demons… something to do with demons, Ynnistoria said.
(You’re being a very bad boy, Glenn. You’re not ignoring what you need to ignore. Bad boys need to be punished.)
Glenn gasped at the onslaught of pain that blossomed from inside his skull. He saw nothing but red, invading every corner of his vision as he doubled over in agony. The robot quickly stepped in, recognizing a medical emergency. It immediately knelt down and caught Glenn in its arms—tenderly supporting his neck to prevent his head from flopping over.
“Sir, are you conscious? If you are, then please respond within the next ten seconds, otherwise I will contact medical services.”
Glenn ignored both the robot and the pain, focusing solely on Ananya. She died because of… because of something unnatural. Demons, yes. He needed to learn more about demons. He needed to know what he could have done to save her, to prevent them from killing her. It was just like her. Like Mother, lying in a pool of her own blood.
Her pain, his fault. His fault why Mother hurt so bad. He could do something now. The pain was nothing. He hurt worse before. It was nothing, though, compared to what was at stake. His Mother was dead. The woman called Ananya was dead. He could do something now if only he could ignore the hurt long enough.
(You’re being an unrepentant bad boy, Glenn. Unrepentant bad boys need to die. Do you want to die, Glenn?)
“Mistress? You screw,” Glenn forced out through clenched teeth, the words coming out wrong as his bloodshot eyes darted crazily every which way.
“Sir?” The robot clerk cocked its head in confusion. “Could you please repeat that?”
“Not here you’re now. Here help not to now. Something need know to, make sure focus can I. The would pain not hurt thoughts scrambled. Focus needed now to only if then. I do I could if only if maybe but then—"
Ynnistoria: Mister Olson, did you know that the stock value of your employer, Immentrop-Reubens Robotics—has risen by 3.8% in the last 24 hours?
“What?” he blurted out loud to no one in particular, puzzled by Ynnistoria’s strange question.
“Sir, would you like me to contact medical services to arrange for assistance?”
The pain started to weaken as Glenn focused on the robot’s question. He shook his head, first to deny the robot’s proposal and second to clear the confusion in his head. Ynnistoria mentioned something about… something about—
Ynnistoria: Glenn, your oven is running low on nutri-blocks. You are also running low on synthetic pizza, cheeseburger, mashed potato, and beef-and-gravy flavorings. Since you are already beside a branch of Hoppy’s Convenience Stores, I highly recommend stocking up on additional blocks and flavoring packets to eliminate delivery fees from the buying price.
“I… yeah. I am running low on blocks. I only had a dozen left, if I recall correctly.”
“Sir? You sound confused, sir. I think it would be best if I contact medical services now.”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’m okay. But… but Ananya. She died. She died, and I could have done something about it. I should just—”
Ynnistoria: By the way, Glenn, Five Wars Online is announcing a double experience weekend this coming Saturday. If you run a few level-39 raids, you could potentially earn enough XP to level your Bishop to 42.
Glenn furrowed his brow, confused by the way Ynnistoria kept interrupting his thoughts. She really should stop trying to distract him. He had more important things to worry about… like Ananya’s death. And what he could have done to help her. Maybe he could—
Ynnistoria: It’s okay, Glenn. It’s okay. Just breathe… and let it go.
(Yes. Good boys forget what they’re told to forget. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?)
Chapter 08
“Hey, Glenn.”
“Hey, Lee. How are you doing?”
“All right, I guess.”
Lee’s avatar wore a bright, gay expression on its face—its straight spine and squared shoulders the perfect picture of poise. Lee’s lifeless voice, however, betrayed the dark emotions roiling within him. Glenn frowned slightly, then activated Empathy to peek at his boss’ mental state.
Park Lee Min
Melancholic. Despondent. Dispirited.
Helpless. Passive. Numb.
Forced. Pressured. Anxious.
Glenn realized that his supervisor must still be hung up about the deaths of the people under him. He swiveled his avatar’s head around, willing a table and two seats to materialize in his virtual office. Lee understood the unspoken invitation and sat down, leaning on the cushioned recliner as he released a sad sigh.
“You up to hang out in the real-world, Lee? Grab a bite, go bowling, catch some fish, or some other dopey stuff. You know, ‘rediscover’ our lost sense of human connection and all that. Or at least that’s what the realists say.”
Lee chortled at the response. “Yeah, right. As if their neurons can tell the difference. Bet you a hundred bucks they can’t tell between real and alt if you knock’em out and run a high-end sim inside their heads.”
Glenn shrugged at that response. “I dunno, Lee. I mean, I’m pretty sure I can tell the difference the moment I try stabbing myself.”
“Then just set disable the pain limiters, set the sim up for ultra-realism. God, I’d pay for some of those dopey idiots to make a mess of themselves. I always wonder why they gotta get in our faces. Yeah, sure, it’s your choice not to get an implant and get with the program, but do you have to make everyone else’s lives miserable because they don’t want to go along with your outdated ideas of humanity? It’s insane, I tell you!”
“A-yup—especially when they try to DDOS alt-world servers.”
“EXACTLY! I mean, COME ON! You’re campaigning for people to get out of the alt-world to experience the real-world a little bit more, and then you go around and use that same tech to make people’s lives miserable? Hell, it’d be impressive if they actually managed to shut down the quantum-lattice servers powering the alt-world. But no, all they do is piss on the front-end that uses traditional binary computing. Forums, private messaging, the wikis… and who has to eat all the fallout of that shit when angry customers come rushing in?”
“The customer care dep—”
“THE CUSTOMER CARE DEPARTMENT, that’s who! Bad enough that we have to deal with the fallout of lifers who hate robots and blame Immentrop-Reubens for robots taking all their jobs, but then we get caught up with the other nutjobs who hate technology! Fucking idiots don’t even care that robots finance their UBIs and h
andle all the shit jobs that people ten years ago moaned and groaned about!”
Park Lee Min
Annoyed. Irritated. Exasperated
Eager. Loquacious. Argumentative.
Indignant. Self-Righteous. Distracted.
Glenn smiled to himself as Lee disabled his avatar’s auto-pilot mode, gesturing widely as he continued denouncing those who stood in the way of progress.
“Oh, yeah,” Lee blurted out, cutting short a rather lengthy diatribe against fundamentalists screaming how the alt-world is the work of demons and an affront to God. “I almost forgot. Do you remember someone called Eckard Weinreb?”
“Eckard… Weinreb?” Glenn squinted his eyes and pursed his lips at the name. “No, I don’t remember anyone by that name.”
“He’s the procurement specialist for this new private military company, Northroppe Services. They signed a huge deal with Immentrop-Reubens Robotics—urban combat drones, recon drones, surveillance fliers, the works.”
“Um… that’s good for the bottom line, right?”
Glenn squirmed uncomfortably at the wide grin that Lee’s avatar directed his way. “Mister Weinreb named you specifically as one of the reasons why he decided to sign up with us instead of Cybernex or Bulgarin.”
Glenn blinked in surprise. “He did?”
“Yes, he did… as well as a couple other clients. Nahira Sudirman, Isaac Savarni, Luke Walters, and Mirriam Fontaine to name a few.”
“That’s… cool?” Glenn commented neutrally, not quite remembering what the names meant and why they’d go out of their way to sing his praises to the powers-that-be.
Lee chuckled at Glenn’s confused response. “You’ve always been one of my better CS reps, Glenn, but you’ve significantly upped your game this past month. It’s like you picked up the slack after…” Lee’s wide smile thinned out a little, his eyes drooping down slightly before perking up again. “After the team took a big hit.”
Glenn bowed his head at that, picking up Lee’s solemnity. He let the silence hang for a few more moments before speaking once more. “It’s not your fault, Lee.”
His supervisor’s avatar stiffened for a split second, and Glenn feared that he had overstepped his bounds. Lee, however, simply followed it up with a sad sigh and an even sadder shake of his head. “I know. Management tells me that. My wife tells me that. My shrink tells me that. Deep down inside though, I can’t help but wonder: could I have done something to help?”
Glenn inhaled sharply as the image of a blackened limb dangling from a stretcher flashed through his memories—an image that he quickly disregarded as unimportant.
“But enough about me, Glenn.” Lee straightened, raising his nose up in the air in an exaggerated gesture of grandeur. “The powers that be have dictated upon me, their loyal servant, to inform you, Glenn Olson, that you have been granted the prestigious title of ‘Employee of the Month.’ Arise, Ser Olson, and receive your well-deserved reward!”
Glenn couldn’t help but stare at his boss’ antics. It was a stare that he could only hold for a second before he released a loud guffaw. He was not used to this kind of laughter, finding few opportunities to use the boisterous expression. This was one of those situations, however, where a guffaw would be considered appropriate.
For his part, Lee’s self-righteous expression melted away with a snort of derision, transforming into an amused grin. “Bonus pay, an extra day off, and a photo-op with the corporate bigwigs to show off how much you helped make them just a little bit richer over the past few weeks.
“In all seriousness though,” Lee’s grin softened into a pleased smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with pride. “You deserve it. You stepped up right when we needed it the most, and gave us a lot of breathing room while I headhunted a couple newbies to fill in for… for our depleted ranks.”
Glenn returned Lee’s sad smile with a pat on his virtual avatar’s back. “You mentioned something about a photo-op? Can’t they just, I dunno, copy my avatar and do the poses for me?”
“No can do, brother. You are cordially invited to the actual, physical office of Immentrop-Reubens. You know the company policy about being true to life and stuff.”
Glenn squinted before grimacing in worry. “That… actually makes sense.”
Lee shrugged. “Blame the PR team. IR Robotics is already gathering a stink because of all the jobs our bots have taken, so corporate is going for every play it can to make the company seem more pro-human. You’d think throwing money at the Universal Basic Income fund would be enough, but nooo, there are always nutjobs out there with something to complain about.”
“Like the lifer—”
“THE LIFERS, exactly! You know, I can’t imagine how those nutjobs would have blown up if IRR and the robotics industry didn’t help fund the UBI. I bet you a hundred bucks that they’d be just as crazy as they are now, except scrawnier, hungrier, and willing to strap bombs to their children’s backpacks like those extremists from way back. Actually, if I didn’t know better, those same extremists just changed masks and—”
Glenn smiled and nodded, glad to see his boss ranting and raving again instead of sinking deeper into depression.
***
Ynnistoria: You have been targeted by a Skeleton Archer, Glenn.
Glenn stumbled mid-prayer, ducking as quickly as he could and deftly avoiding an arrow as it whizzed past his head.
Thanks, Ynnie, Glenn thought back to his digital assistant. Totally didn’t see that one.
Ynnistoria: My pleasure, Glenn. You may want to step back a little more though, because your party-mates are unable to hold your enemies at bay.
“What the hell, healer? Cut back on drawing the aggro!”
“Sorry! My bad!” Glenn called back to the group’s paladin, who slammed his shield at the nearest zombie to further draw the attention of the undead horde. It would have been a sound decision if he wasn’t already being targeted by three skeletons, two zombies, and five crawlers.
“Useless noob,” mumbled the alchemist of the group, tossing a vial of corrosive acid at the mobs surrounding the paladin. He took the perk that prevented his offensive potions from damaging allies, and was using the paladin as a glorified monster-magnet.
“Fucking scrub,” chimed in the third member of the party, a scantily-clad barbarian wielding a comically oversized sword. The avatar’s bouncing breasts and jiggling buttocks contrasted starkly with the hoarse man-cry emanating from its mouth as it slammed said sword into the head of a zombie.
“Focus guys,” squawked the party’s druid, who kept throwing seeds at the ground. Brambles sprouted from the cracked stones of the dungeon, entangling the weaker zombies and skeletons. “Survive now, bitch later!!!”
Glenn just sighed to himself. He was used to the abuse hurled at healers like himself—it came naturally with playing the class—but this particular party was a serious pain in the ass even by his low standards.
The matchmaking system of Five Wars Online normally paired him up with people who knew what they were doing. In this dungeon instance, however, he was matched with a party of hotheads that kept charging headlong into danger. They dove right into undead hordes with spells and weapons, relying on his heals and buff abilities as a bishop to keep them alive.
Instead of fighting at a chokepoint, they’d rush right into rooms and halls—opening plenty of room for a mass of undead to circle around and flank them. The open space also allowed the mobs to target the squishier members of the party, like the vulnerable bishop muttering prayer after prayer to keep the party breathing.
Case in point: the paladin, xXSlayerzXx, just ran off to chase down a lone banshee screaming debuffs at him. The barbarian, JessicaTheSlot, possessed enough dodge to evade one or two monsters. Seven zombies, however, were more than enough to flank and negate that evasion bonus—something that the guy controlling JessicaTheSlot apparently wasn’t aware of. The alchemist, ZuckOnDese, o
nly prepared damaging potions for the run—completely ignoring the utility potions that could help allies and hinder foes.
At least the druid, WeedMaster420, was using his limited stock of nature-kissed seeds to impede the horde in front of them. This just went to show how badly they misjudged this engagement, rushing headlong into combat instead of bringing the fight to a tactically advantageous location.
Glenn grimaced, deciding that the situation was indeed dire. A few more minutes of this, and the party would wipe.
He moved back and began chanting a much longer litany to his deity. He ignored the whines and complaints coming from the more hotheaded members as he focused on completing the prayer.
“…lay thee to rest now, and return to the embrace of Pax! REPOSE!!”
Bright light shone from the holy symbol held tightly between his clasped hands, filling every corner of the hall they were fighting in. Some of the higher-level undead like the wight and the banshee resisted the prayer’s effects. Most of the weaker undead, however, weren’t quite as resistant. Skeletons clattered to the ground in piles of dry bones, while zombies slumped to the ground in wet clumps of rotten flesh.
It was a simple matter to clean up the two remaining undead now that their mob of lesser minions were no longer flanking key players and obstructing the party’s movements. Only when the last hostile monster was downed did Glenn bring up his combat log.
Combat has ended!
3,422 experience gained from the encounter (17,110 total XP split between 5 members of the party)
28,440 XP needed to reach level 40
