Glitch Kingdom

by Sheena Boekweg

  I dropped my hands. Ryo?

  “I’d never put any of you in danger.”

  Ryo was in on it. His face was slightly different, but I could remember him now. From before.

  I froze. There was a before.

  Was it possible? I opened my eyes, and I remembered more than sitting in the game pod, more than the impact into a locker. Every moment of my life seeped in, trickling in flashes of memories. The taste of ice cream. The whispers of my classmates before PE as I got dressed. My third grade teacher’s name. Cruel names and fists. I remembered my life until I remembered how much I wanted to forget.

  The game wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. It was supposed to be something else. A vacation from my real life.

  The voice, this vision, was real.

  That meant my memories of my life as Lady Dagney Tomlinson were planted in my brain for a video game.

  “We’re doing everything we can to help you from our side, but you’re going to have to break yourself out. The only way out is to win the game. Place an heir on the throne, dressed in the armor, and then the neural net should release the door. Please. I need you to help my son. Get as many players as you can and work together to crown him. I programmed his path through the world first, so as the source code damages further, his path should be the last to corrupt.

  “I hope.” She pressed her fist into her stomach. “If you can’t get out before the source code breaks down more … the neurologist says you all could die. I’ve spent the last seven years envisioning every detail of this project, and now it’s swallowed my son, and it’s hurting him, and I have no idea how to get him out.”

  She clutched her chest, her face flickering in the light. “I’m sorry. If this is the last message I can get into the game, please know I’m so sorry. And we’re doing everything we can to get you out.”

  The image shut off, leaving only darkness and my memories.

  The light flashed, then the too-loud man’s voice rang out over an image of a throne and my own face in a crown, light brightening. “And you, too, can win the crown!”

  The light flickered again, and my world shuddered back into being. Ryo held me close to his chest, his dark eyes searching mine. His eyebrows shot up and he let out a relieved breath that sent my hair spinning back.

  Then the side of his lips turned up. “Oof, you’re heavier than you look.”

  Jerk. I shoved him with all my might and it felt great. I swung my fist into his stomach then fled back until I fell, my knees slamming against the ground where I’d dropped my sword.

  I could kick him, stab him, kill him, but I couldn’t fight back against the truth.

  The cold ground gave no comfort as I pulled my legs into my chest and let out a groan.

  It shouldn’t hurt. Not if it’s not real.

  Why do the things that aren’t real hurt the most to lose?

  I caught my breath like it was a living thing and tucked it back into the dark tunnel of my heart. But I couldn’t stand. I could pretend to be Lady Tomlinson for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t put weight on my feet, and leave the safety of the floor.

  Ryo knelt by my side, a circle of candlelight lighting his cheek. He hesitated then touched my arm.

  I shouldn’t hate him as much as I did. But if Lady Tomlinson was still the girl who’d been bullied, then he must still be the jerk who’d joked at other people’s expense. I didn’t care that he was a player too.

  I turned away. Last thing I needed right now was one of Ryo’s insults, or for him to try to sneak beneath my defenses.

  He didn’t say anything about the dust on my sleeves, or the blood staining the hem of my dress. He listened to the sound of my lungs exhaling, his hand hesitant as he cupped the back of my neck, his fingers twisting through my hair.

  “Whatever it is,” he said, “you won’t face it alone.”

  In the dim light, I couldn’t tell if that was a line. It didn’t seem like one, not from his steady gaze.

  It seemed real.

  I pushed myself up to sitting and winced at my raw knees. Ms. Takagi wasn’t lying. I needed to be more careful. This game hurt.

  He leaned closer and flicked my skirt up to reveal my gashed knee.

  I protested.

  “Hush now, Lady Tomlinson. We need to check for infection. Can’t have you slowing us down, now, can we? Besides, you already ripped my shirt off; it’s only fair I return the favor.”

  I scowled and his lips lifted in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

  His fingers whispered over my calf as he checked out my injury. They weren’t my real legs; my real legs would have had a soft bristle of hair and a pair of moles on my knee. The shadow of his touch sunk heavy in my stomach and sparked along my nerve endings.

  I knew better than to let him affect me.

  This wasn’t him. I’d met Ryo twice before this game started. Ms. Takagi’s spoiled son got to play as the main character, even though he never placed in the competition. He was so dismissive of us players, as though we were the ones who didn’t deserve to be here. His face was altered now—only hints of the real him left over. His deep brown eyes were the same, but now his eyebrows were thicker, his brow ridge pressed out like a mountain range. His jawline cut sharp, a false dip at the center of his chin. He looked like a photoshopped version of the Ryo I’d seen. There were similarities, sure, they were both tall, and strong, their arms like rolling hills of defined muscles, but the real Ryo had a delicate nose and pissed-off eyes. The real Ryo was quietly handsome. The real Ryo made me look twice, but I was not interested in this man who wore a different face like it was a Snapchat filter.

  His face was a lie, and I’d had my share.

  “I’m fine.” I tucked my legs away from his reach and pressed my dress down.

  I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d said that lie.

  Before the game, I’d said it after I was locked in a dark janitor’s closet. I’d said I was fine after I found dog poop at the bottom of my bag. Every day for five years, I’d lied and said I was fine, and that those names they called me didn’t bother me. I’d said I was fine after a jerk named Seth made me his pet victim, and every teacher I’d told let him get away with it.

  He tortured me, and everyone looked the other way. He was smiles, good grades, and trophies for the case by the office, and I was the girl who yelled about the patriarchy and argued with my teachers about incorrect history in the textbooks. I was the girl who wore the wrong clothes and showed cleavage in a tee shirt. Maybe I distracted the class with my body, so wasn’t it my fault when boys picked on me?

  But I was fine. I was a fat girl who liked herself. I was a girl who took up space, and would not shrink to make others more comfortable.

  I was the girl who took first place in an eSports competition and won a chance to be among the first to play an incredibly immersive game by my favorite developer. I was the one who walked alone out an empty hallway while a school full of people cheered on our third-ranked 2A football team after another preseason loss. I closed that door, and I didn’t think once about those people who would never like me.

  That was fine. They couldn’t hurt me.

  I was fine.

  Outside the doors of my high school was an entire world full of people who wanted this chance I’d won. I could play in a shared world, learn magic or how to be a warrior, or play the game of politics and strategy as we tried to put the true heir on the golden throne. When we chose our characters, I chose the body that looked the most like mine.

  Because I was fine with who I was, and if I said it enough, maybe that lie would become the truth.

  A faint purple diamond floated above Ryo’s head. I squinted and the diamond light brightened.

  “Would you share your thoughts aloud?” Ryo asked. “I’m having a devil of a time reading your expressions.”

  I reached my hand into the diamond of misty purple light above his head. He leaned away and the diamond moved with him. It wasn’t a diamond, i
t was a player indicator.

  I stood.

  “What?” His eyebrows dipped and he leaned away. I took three steps back and squinted at him. Above the diamond of light were small light squiggles, like the spaces between the shadows of leaves. Only … No, they were numbers, not squiggles. 1,240. Lv.4. One heart shape and a long rectangular bar edged with numbers. 97%.

  A stats bar! He was at 97 percent health.

  That was why he came back to life. He must have had extra lives.

  But there was no indication that he had any more. Or that I had any extra, for that matter. Most RPGs only give you one life, and death means a restart.

  A chill ran up my neck. If the pain receptors were damaged, what happened at game over?

  I looked above me, and there was a diamond over my head.

  I grunted. “Pink. ’Cause I’m a girl, right? Might as well tie me up with bows and call me Ms. Pac-Man.”

  Ryo pointed at my dress, which happened to be tied with several small bows.

  “So I like ribbons!”

  He chuckled. “I happen to think pink is a fine color.”

  I grumbled under my breath and looked up. Could I adjust my view so I could see behind me? As I stared at the diamond hovering over my head, I made out stats at the corner of my vision. My health was at 89 percent and my points were more than double Ryo’s. I was listed as a Trader class, with high levels of Intelligence and Constitution. The word abilities appeared, and as I stared, the image shifted to a short list.

  Pathfinding

  Trading

  Would you like a tutorial?

  Why yes I would.

  “Are you having a fit?” Ryo asked. “I’ve never seen anyone make that particular expression before. Are you about to make sick?”

  Ryo’s confusion, hilarious though it was, would have to wait.

  “No. Shut up for a second.” Pathfinding, I thought. A circle appeared directly in front of me, with dots in different places. Player locators, I bet. A compass appeared above the circle, and an arrow spun.

  I punched the air and grinned.

  “Was that a smile? I did not think it possible.” Ryo’s eyes warmed, like my reaction had given him a glimpse of hope, and he hungered for more.

  Speaking of which, we needed to get more food. “I smile, on occasion.”

  “Fascinating. Are you ready for my questions, or will you punch me again?”

  “Yes.”

  “To which? Punching or questions.”

  The side of my mouth tugged up. “Both are always options.”

  I searched the tunnel again, this time not for supplies, but for things to trade. My father had a few hibisi petals on a top shelf. I tucked them into my top pockets. I needed to trade for as many health potions as possible.

  Only Sir Tomlinson wasn’t my father. So why’d he feel so real? My real family seemed so far away, but I could remember every kind word, each time Sir Tomlinson held my wrist and trained me to throw a punch or a knife. And Grigfen was my brother, though we weren’t related. He was my responsibility.

  I knew one thing—I didn’t want to die like Ryo had. Even if I had extra lives too, I didn’t want to risk it. Was I the only one who got this message from his mother? I stared at Ryo. How much of this should I tell him?

  “Is that seer water around your neck?” I asked.

  He swallowed and tucked his necklace below my father’s shirt. “It is. And I’m not drinking it.”

  “Why? It’d be so much easier if you’d drink now, while we’re safe.”

  “I made a promise to my father. That promise might be the only reason I’m alive.”

  “The only reason you’re alive is because you’re in a video game and you had extra lives.”

  He squinted at me, that hope I’d handed him gone completely from his expression. “What?”

  “Just drink your seer water. Everything will make sense once you get your game vision.”

  He turned away. “I’m sure you believe so. But I didn’t drink despite being tortured, so I will not drink despite your nonsense. I keep my promises. It’s all I have of my father now.”

  That stubborn idiot. “Fine.” If he wouldn’t listen to me, then I would let him fumble without answers. Let him be confused. I didn’t need his help.

  We needed to add to our team if we were going to win. I needed to find my brother. My almost brother. Grigfen314 had to be okay. He was one of the only other players I knew before the game. Decent guy. Great sense of humor.

  Someone needed to tell him not to die.

  Yellow letters scrolled across my vision. Recruit Sir Grigfen to Your Party.

  The compass behind my eyes spun, and this time the arrow pointed up and north.

  Awesome. “Come along, Your Highness.” I pulled the strap of my bag over my head and then picked up my sword. “It’s time to play.”

  6

  MCKENNA, QUEEN OF THE SAVAK

  ONE WEEK EARLIER

  “My queen,” a cleric said, “are you all right?”

  I clasped the bridge of my nose between my fingers. A migraine sparked behind my eyes, brief but sharp, as the vision left me.

  The pain left in an instant, and only a distant numbness remained.

  Clerics of the Seer Spring lined either side of me, their red cloaks backed to the sparkling mosaic walls, their worried faces in profile as I preferred. Servants fanned me with massive white feathers as I placed the seer water on a tray next to a zomok steak. My first glass of seer water, though they didn’t know it.

  But they weren’t real people, so they didn’t know much of anything.

  Welcome, adventurers, to the land of traitor kings and vicious queens!

  The voice from the video still echoed in my mind, but I didn’t break character as I processed. I sat taller in my throne, mindful of the cameras. Any camera angle could be used in the promotional materials.

  So let’s give them something to watch.

  I lunged for the cleric who had remarked on my moment of weakness, grabbed the chain around his neck, and yanked down until his fear-widened eyes were level with mine. One thing I knew about this character, the queen of the Savak could not appear weak in front of the clerics. “Are you questioning my mental fitness, cleric?”

  He shook his head rapidly, but I spied other clerics sharing a look. The Savak queen could not show mercy. My fingers, clad in filigreed bronze rings molded to claw shapes, would teach them a lesson. I traced his jaw with the ring on my index finger. If I killed him, it would look cinematic, but if you take the stakes to a ten, you have to keep them at a ten, and I prefer a slower build.

  A messenger entered with small fanfare. “My queen, your armies are ready for your inspection. They come bearing the spoils of war.”

  I shoved the cleric off my dais and sucked in my stomach.

  “Good,” I said. I crossed toward a large arched window, each step purposeful, my shoulders wide, hips twisting, borrowing from the walk I used when I played the Witch in the Walnut Creek’s community theater’s production of Into the Woods.

  Confidence. You are a queen. Think of Bernadette Peters. You can do this.

  Improv had never been my strong suit. I performed best with solid choreography, blocking, and the phenomenal lyricism of one Stephen Sondheim. But I missed the fall musical to do this, not to mention serious PSAT studying time, so I was going to crush this role like I’d crushed every audition I’d gone to since I was eleven years old.

  This was my big break.

  I pressed my hand against the pebbled glass window. My clawed rings scratched the glass. Below me, hundreds of Wingships landed on the battlefield. One Wingship to a soldier. Shining armor reflecting daggers of sunlight, though the uniforms seemed battered, covered in blood. Some were injured, while others tied trophies in ribbons, the spoils of the raid against the Biallo wrapped across their necks.

  Across the sea, a column of fog shot up from the mainland. Two more brilliant columns appeared next to the first p
ale green one, a bold purple and a musky pink. As I looked, names and stats appeared like dots in my vision, too far away to read.

  We were told we’d receive game vision to guide our tasks. This must be it.

  “Did King Vinton sign the cleric’s treaty? Or will the Kingdom de Mark be the next stop on our world tour?” I asked the messenger.

  “He did sign; however, his brother, Edvarg, has made himself king and is rustling up a small resistance. We await your orders, my queen.”

  I didn’t move. A map appeared in the corner of my vision. Names and dots showing their locations so I could always find them.

  How many players were there again? I turned slightly, leaning my head to the left. Across the ocean toward the Kneult harbor, two more columns of color were visible. Yellow and gray. Specks of light fractured in the distance far behind them, like particles of light shooting from a prism.

  Eleven columns in all.

  So many players to defeat.

  I should have known with the backstory they’d provided, but assassinating all the other players was the only way I could win the game. Once I knocked them all out of the game, I’d be crowned empress. Great, right? Except I somehow had to defeat nationally ranked gamers to do it, when I hadn’t had time to pick up a controller in seven years, what with all the dance classes, play rehearsals, and piles of homework. But I was not panicking. The more players I killed, the more screen time I could get, and even if the very first player took me out, I could still make the kind of impression that could lead to something cool, like maybe national commercials, or a TV pilot, or, at the very least, this would look good on my college applications.

  The rings scratched the glass, and I realized I’d cupped my fists. It would be fine. There were no small roles, only small actresses. This was not my only break.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I was a theater person. Competition came as naturally to me as a perfect box step. I wanted to be the lead, so dang it I would do whatever it took to do it.

  “Excellent.” I pursed my lips. A scene where I welcomed my troops would be very cinematic, and Past Me was not thinking of the cameras when she chose this dress, so I needed a quick change, stat. “I’ll meet them when I’m good and ready. Sabi, to me.”