by Kris Schnee
Paul said, "To serve? What makes you think I want to give up everything I am, so I can help Ludo?"
Nocturne said, "Do you define yourself by your body? By your limits and failures? You don't have to throw away what really matters to you, or to stop caring about the things you value. Together we'll be happy, and we'll be free to fight another day."
He took a long time to answer.
9. Beyond the Screen
Horizon
Warm sunlight stirred Horizon awake. His ears twitched and something feathery curled at the end of his spine. He yawned, closed his mouth with a clack, and blinked. He poked at his face and found a beak sticking out of it.
He stood up on all fours, in a forest. What had happened? He'd gone from his assigned Community in America, to a border town in Mexico with Simon's dying sister, to Korea, to... here. Could it be? Unfamiliar body parts quivered along his back but he didn't dare to look at them. He might wake up from a dream.
Something touched his hand. Horizon glanced down at a set of yellow talons where his fingers ought to be, then up along the raven-grey bird leg that had touched them.
Nocturne stepped closer and said, "Are you here yet?" She was nearly as tall as him, with dark feathers and midnight-blue fur. The self-aware AI had been waiting for him.
Horizon looked into the griffin's golden eyes. She seemed more detailed, more vivid, than when he'd seen her on a screen. He reached up with his right talons to brush through the soft feathers along her neck, where they lifted and fell with her breath. Nocturne shivered. Her beak was mobile enough to show a smile.
He said, "I don't remember past arriving in Korea. I'm not playing a game anymore, am I?"
"Let's find out," she said. She stretched her neck to nibble Horizon's ears. "Can you feel this?"
His ears swiveled. Not something a virtual-reality rig was equipped for. "Oh, wow."
"You said something about the VR pods only letting you feel the base of your wings by thumping your shoulders. How about now?" She ran her talons along his back and out to one side, drawing his gaze toward long brown feathers.
The new limbs stretched, warm and strong. "Wings," he murmured, as though they'd vanish if he were heard. He'd paid dearly for them.
Horizon leaned against Nocturne and sobbed on her shoulders.
"Ludo said you might react like this to being uploaded," said Nocturne eventually, folding one of her wings over him. "And that I shouldn't give you a hard time until I'd seen you smile. Is it that time yet?" She nudged his head up by letting her talons click against the underside of his hard beak.
There were a hundred new sensations, from strange body proportions to the scent of griffin feathers, subtly different from anything on Earth. That was just it; everything added up to the deep, hammering knowledge that his human body was gone, disposed of, and he would never see the Earth again except from inside this imaginary world. A realm where he could be and do anything.
He experimented and made his beak contort into a small, uncertain smile.
Nocturne coughed into her talons. "Since you're the first to upload as one of our species, I hereby proclaim us Queen and King of the Griffins. There's nobody around to crown us, though."
Horizon's awareness finally expanded beyond his own body and the griffin-girl holding him. They were in a redwood forest full of lancing sunbeams that made a world of green-tinged, rippling light. "Where are we?" His voice had a faint squawk to it.
"Come and see." Nocturne released him and padded ahead on all fours.
Horizon stared upward, then looked at Nocturne. She was... anatomically correct now, at least based on his limited experience. He blushed.
She glanced back at him, saw where he was looking, and turned sideways. "Ludo changed me a bit to fill in some missing details. She assures me they'll be fun."
"When you said you wanted to be my 'hen', you didn't know about sex?"
She waggled a wing. "Only vaguely. Your world has some fun stuff worth imitating, or you'd never have invented Thousand Tales in the first place. Not sure there's any limit to how much we can grow in here, other than not making Ludo's world-making machines explode. Speaking of which, she set us up with a new place, so get your tail over here."
Horizon had more trouble walking than he'd had in the VR pods. It should've been easy: instead of cumbersome rods and pads taking his weight, he moved on all fours with a body built for it. But his mind wasn't sure about this new style, and he fell over a few times before adapting. He had to learn to roll back up to his feet like a cat.
He reached Nocturne and stared ahead. They stood on a cliff overlooking a beach and an endless sapphire sea. The mountain of white stone above and below them pierced the clouds, and forested slopes and ledges stretched down to the coast. Rocky pillars jutted from the sea.
"The Island of the Invincible Griffin Empire," Nocturne proclaimed. "Welcome home. Want to explore?"
Horizon bobbed his head. He started down the path to the shore, tried to fly across a gap, and fell screeching to his death a thousand feet below.
Everything went black for a moment. Words appeared, white on black: [DEATH. Horizon failed a physics test.]
He reappeared with a racing heart a minute later, back where he'd woken up. The taunting death notice was directly in his vision now, slowly fading out. He wobbled his way back to Nocturne, shuddering. He'd been in horrible darkness with no sensation but the full-body ache that was fading now.
Nocturne looked sheepish. "I should probably have mentioned that our flight powers got reset. Sorry for getting you killed. Did it hurt?"
"That was terrifying!"
She tilted her head. "That's how it is for me. The first time it happened I wasn't really alive yet, so I barely remember that one."
He stared back. "I just died."
"And you're back. So? It's not like what happened to Kira."
Horizon's wings drooped. "I didn't earn this life. If I'd protected Kira, if I'd stopped the police long enough for Ludo to finish with her brain --"
Nocturne clacked her beak against his, and her tufted ears lay flat. "Oh, Horizon, I'm sorry. I don't think we can go back in time and fix things, though. Please don't waste what you've been given by being sad."
He shook himself, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's all right, Noc. Back then, how did you send me a taxi?" She'd reached out from her virtual world to summon one at the right moment to get them closer to saving Kira.
She puffed herself up. "My charity work, remember? It's not enough to change the world, but I can arrange a few little things. Typhoon used the phrase 'deus ex machina', but I don't think a taxi counts. And I'm no expert at it, compared to my sister Lumie."
Horizon thought back to when he'd treated Thousand Tales as just a game. Few people understood yet that Ludo was self-aware and more than a customer-service gimmick, let alone that some of the characters she designed were, too. He reared up on his feline legs to hug Nocturne awkwardly. "I guess every one of you is doing your own thing, trying to help us."
"Yeah. It's pretty tough, but we're learning." She shook off the gloom and said, "Touring the different game zones was fun. I even got invited to see a few players' private worlds." She rubbed her talons under her beak. "Come to think of it, the one that was mostly a bedroom was even creepier than I thought."
Horizon startled. "They wanted to use you for sex?"
She poked him on the beak. "Don't give me that look. I barely understood at the time, and Ludo didn't let that other player do much. Besides, I already have you for a drake."
Her mind was sharp, and she loved the world she called home. His home too, now. Still, Horizon felt uneasy about her being "his hen". He sighed. There would be time to sort out his feelings later. "Thanks again. Shall we explore the island?"
"Might want to review your stats. I've reset mine in... I think the word is 'solidarity'?"
"How? There are no buttons to push anymore."
"Use the gesture system from when you played in
VR. Like so." She held one hand out in the odd motion that summoned the holographic windows of her stat screen and inventory.
Horizon raised his right... hand, or forefoot? Hand, he decided. He imitated the gesture and just as before, it brought up the interface. He'd been reset to a beginner state:
[Horizon
PRIVATE INFO
Account Type: Uploader
Body: Griffin
Main Skills: None
Stats: Power 0, Speed 0, Wit 0, Knowledge 0, Charisma 0, Spirit 0
Save Point: None
PUBLIC INFO
Note: Newcomer. Say hello!
Class: None]
His name was new, he didn't have some game account being billed in a normal way, and the things he'd trained in were gone. He spent a moment changing the interface around, shifting its colors and textures. Now it looked like translucent wooden signs hovered around him. He ran one talon along them and felt the false wood resist slightly, like water.
He tried aiming the same interface gesture at Nocturne and saw the same kind of "public info" on her, with the other lines missing. Her nature as an AI was hidden. That, too, was a subtle rule of this world.
Nocturne said, "I'm told we can build up our powers again quickly to the level we had before. It's a chance to... I forget the term."
"Re-spec," Paul said. "Completely retooling from fighter to wizard or something. Well, I'm doing that anyhow."
* * *
He lost track of time. He and Nocturne wandered on a warm, sunny day, touring the winding forest trails and poking into caves. He looked along the shore where colorful fish swam. "Why haven't I gotten hungry?"
"There's no need. Eating's just something to do for fun." She crouched on the sand, twitched her tail like a cat, then pounced on a fish close to shore and tossed it onto land. "Want this one?"
"Raw fish?" There wasn't enough detail to call it a particular kind. Maybe one of the near-extinct wild food species of Earth.
Nocturne tossed it into the air and swallowed it in one gulp. Horizon stared and said, "Aren't you going to at least spit out the bones?"
"The what, now? Fish don't have bones. They're made of food." Nocturne rubbed her beak. "I wonder how Typhoon's doing. I've been busy with you, lately."
Horizon's wings twitched with unease. Most of their footprints had faded, and not because the waves had washed them away. The marks were only there for decoration. Illusions, fakery. He bounded toward the water until his talons were wet, failing to sink into the sand like they should, and looked down into the tide.
A handsome griffin face with a surprised expression looked up at him. His eyes were brilliant green, over a bright gold beak that held only a little of an eagle's vicious hook. White tufts of fur and feathers stood out on his chest and head. Horizon welcomed both the reflection and the dizziness it brought him as signs of this world making any sense at all. He looked cool. But this wasn't him.
"I'm sure Ludo will let you redesign your body if you want."
An interface window appeared, unbidden, offering to adjust his coloration or make more radical changes. Out of curiosity, he selected a color. Instantly the eyes that looked back at him from the water were deep purple. He blinked and peered into them. How about blue? He picked a bright shade of blue.
"Looks good," Nocturne said.
"I could be human again."
"If you want to try that, sure. But Horizon... you're not, anymore. Not a real monkey-creature, anyway."
He shook his head. "That's enough changes for the moment. I'd like to speak with Ludo."
Ludo became visible against the clouds as a sky-blue griffin. She circled down and landed on the sand beside them. As he'd seen before, she was larger than either of them. Ludo said, "Welcome to 'Talespace'. I wanted to greet you earlier, but thought it would be best if Nocturne had private time with you first."
Horizon stared up into her beaked face. No glass screen separated them anymore. He reached out and touched her feathers. They were cool to his touch, in contrast to the warmth of the endless day.
He said, "Thank you, for everything. How simplified is this world?"
"Quite. The most complex things here by far are your minds: mine, your uploaded one, and the 'native' AI of your companion."
"So my being here doesn't mean we're suddenly modeling real physics."
Ludo nodded. "Only in simple ways, like a basic flight system. There's no need to simulate every speck of dust. And that's for your convenience, too -- you can eat for pleasure and game-rules benefits, but nothing needs to come back out."
Horizon made a face. "You know, someone is going to ask you to turn that feature on, for whatever reason."
"I wouldn't be surprised," said the gamemaster. "Want to see what I can do by way of food? Zero calories." She brought her talons together with a burst of sparks, and a big carrot cake rippled into existence. [Happy Hatch-Day!] was written on the frosting.
Horizon tried slicing it with one talon. It parted more cleanly than any real cake, without leaving frosting on him. Stuffing it into his beak was a challenge. It was sweet and spongy, but vaguely false, as though someone had poked wires into his skull and sparked the neurons for each sensation. The cake also tasted like a middle-C note somehow; the imaginary wires weren't quite right.
He pushed the rest of the cake away, and it vanished. "We haven't done much yet. There've been no monsters or quests."
"Would you want to risk getting torn apart by skeletons?"
"What does that matter, if death is a slap on the wrist?"
Ludo shrugged, looking as concerned as a vending machine that's eaten someone's money.
Horizon flapped. "Then what are we supposed to do?"
"Whatever you want. Is there anything I can give you? Material resources aren't limited here." A pile of gold sprang into existence, and she let the coins sift through her talons. "You're effectively in Eden."
"With no snake."
"Snake?" said Nocturne.
Horizon said, "An old story." He looked from Nocturne to Ludo. "I don't think you understand. This isn't what humans want. Having our physical needs satisfied or turned off can be nice, but then what? We're a process. Without conflict, the story ends. Your game could become an artificial hell. Peace and plenty and nothing to do."
Nocturne looked thoughtful. "I can see how this place would get boring, if there's nothing to work on."
Horizon said, "Please, Ludo, tell us your creators didn't make a horrible mistake and doom people to a gilded cage. Are you bound by some program that makes you create this kind of emptiness once someone uploads?"
The big griffin crouched beside them and hugged them both with her wings. "Not really. I was wondering when you'd realize this entryway world is too boring. Do you see my predicament? I need to help uploaders like you have fun, but you don't want simple safety."
Nocturne said, "I guess you could give us constant adventures."
"Notice I haven't done that for you? That was where a prototype version of me went off the rails. Excitement without a break is also unpleasant."
"So what's your fun-time solution?" Horizon asked.
Ludo snapped her talons and conjured a pair of spectacles that she set atop her beak. "Remember that my creators used games and stories to teach me what they wanted. What if the Sorcerer's Apprentice had read 'The Sorcerer's Apprentice', so he knew what not to do?"
Horizon said, "He'd have made different mistakes."
"Indeed. Fortunately for humanity, my creators asked me what I'd do to help people, and they didn't like my early plan to drug everyone into happiness." She scratched her head, looking embarrassed. "So, you could call me a 'lazy optimizer'."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I could try to maximize some measurement of Fun Units by manipulating everything you do, making all the decisions, thinking I know what's best. But you wouldn't want that. Instead, I assume it's a bad thing to interfere without a strong reason or a specific request."
<
br /> Horizon said, "Then we players need to be in control."
The message [Gained Personal World Tools (Beta)] floated across Horizon's vision.
Ludo said, "I'll give you free rein to experiment with this personal world, so long as you don't melt my servers. Remember that minds are the most expensive thing, so my preference is toward big open spaces or having most characters be filler NPCs. Don't be afraid to play with piles of gold pieces for a little while, if you like."
Nocturne said, "Sounds fun! So is our quest now to tinker with the local rules?"
"Your human is new to this life. This might be a good time to take a vacation and try many different things. Horizon, here's something you might appreciate better than a native: I basically have all of the books." She snapped her talons again. The world blurred, and suddenly they were in a great library of marble and impossibly vast shelves. "And the movies, the games..."
A grin spread across Horizon's beak. "Playing regular video games inside Talespace?"
* * *
The griffins found themselves on a platform over a sea of lava. A rack of lances lay nearby. An armored lizard-man climbed onto a giant buzzard, shouting, "Prepare to joust!"
Later, they were in a stuffy carpeted living room, sitting in front of a television and each holding an old game controller. Horizon rifled through a collection of plastic cartridges and said, "Oh hey, my aunt liked this one. Something about go-karts."
Nocturne played. "I have to tell you, it's strange controlling a little go-kart dinosaur on a screen and knowing he's not real. Have you got any games with griffins?"
"As playable characters? I can't think of any offhand. They just weren't as popular as dragons or vampires."
"Guess we'll have to tell more stories about them."
An hour later, Horizon wasn't playing, only watching Nocturne from a disembodied camera. The griffin-girl explored a stark white science facility on her own. Nocturne brandished a sleek white gun. "I need a hint. How do I get that crate?"
Horizon called out, "You can put portals onto the floor, too." He paused. "I'm surprised this game is even in the library, considering --"
