by SM Reine
“You’re a simmer.” She didn’t need to make it a question.
It was obvious in the way the guy (Aran, according to his badge) had been looking at the FullD. She felt that same pull herself; the lure of immersing herself in a fabulous world, of testing her formidable skills and beating anything the programmers could dream up.
Although the Realm of Faerie was a whole other challenge. Luckily, only a few gamers would ever stumble into that world. When they did, she and the rest of the Feyguard would be there to pull them back out.
“I sim,” Aran said. “Hey, could I get your autograph?”
“Of course. Got a pen?”
He fished around in his jeans pockets, coming up with a folded map of the convention center and a pen with the VirtuMax logo printed on the side.
“Thanks,” he said, handing them to her. “Make it out to Bix. B-I-X.”
“Your name isn’t Aran?” She shot another look at his badge.
“It’s for a friend. He’s a big fan.”
“I’ll be in the VirtuMax area tomorrow. He could meet me then.” She wrote out the name and signed her autograph, then handed the pen and paper back to Aran.
“Maybe. But he’s shy—and there’ll be about a thousand other people who’ll want your autograph. This way, your hand will be spared from signing one more.”
She laughed a little. “I like your logic. You know, there’ll be demo models of the FullD for people to try.”
“I know.” His dark brown eyes sparked with interest. “Although there’s still that problem of the thousand other people.”
She tilted her head and studied him a moment. There was something appealing about this guy, beyond the fact he wasn’t a complete mess of fannish drool at her feet. And he was cute. Rebounding from your almost-crush on Roy? a voice inside her needled. But there was no such thing as a not-falling-in-love rebound.
“Listen,” she said. “You’ve got a badge. Come in early tomorrow. I’ll clear you with security, and make sure you get some system time. Say, around nine? Con opens at ten.”
He gave her a surprised look, quickly overtaken by a grin. “That’d be great.”
“Miss Jaxley,” the stage manager called. “All done with your little meet-n-greet up there? We need to check the feed to the screens.”
“See you tomorrow,” she said. “Nice meeting you, Aran.”
“You too, Miss Jax—”
“Call me Spark. Not nearly enough people do.”
His smile emphasized his high cheekbones. “All right, Spark. Later.”
The stage manager cleared his throat. Aran tucked the paper and pen in his back pocket, then jumped down off the stage, lean and agile.
“Miss Jaxley,” the tech said, “here’s your gear.”
Spark took the gleaming helm and visor and pulled on the LED-studded gaming gloves. Just before she slid into the sim chair to begin running the interface, she saw Aran in the back of the theater. He lifted his hand in farewell, then slipped out, leaving only shadows behind.
CHAPTER THREE
“No way!” Bix snatched the folded paper with Spark’s autograph out of Aran’s fingers and pressed it theatrically over his heart. “Now I really hate you, man.”
“Give that back.” Aran held out his hand. “I’m sure someone around here would show a little appreciation for a custom autograph.”
“Seriously—I owe you,” Bix said.
“Not really.” Aran shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, then back to his heels. “I didn’t get much opportunity to talk to Spark. Hey—any chance you can show up to the con early tomorrow?”
Bix’s frown scrunched up his forehead. “The only way I can come at all tomorrow is if I go to worship with my family in the morning. They’re practically foaming at the mouth at the thought of me spending any time here on the Sabbath.”
“Among the unwashed heathens and devil gamers, right? At least you can still attend.”
For once, Aran was glad of Bix’s hyper-religious parents. If Bix had been able to come, Aran would have found a way to finagle him time on the new FullD systems—but this way, Aran didn’t have to ask Spark’s forgiveness for bringing along an uninvited guest.
Not that he was telling Bix exactly where he’d be at nine a.m. Getting the autograph almost erased the guilt he felt at not revealing that Spark Jaxley had invited him to come early and try out the FullD.
Not only would Bix be beyond jealous, Aran didn’t want his friend to know—or even guess at—what he did to make a living. Sim hackers were not universally loved. Pretty much the opposite, in fact.
Sure, everybody wanted to know the cheats and exploits, but it was a sneaky, underhanded way to turn a profit. The honorable players refused to use the hacks, and then were at a disadvantage because of their nobleness. Bix was one of those, and he’d said dozens of times how much he despised the scum that found the exploits in the first place and then sold the information. If he saw Aran playing an advance version of the game, and then BlackWing started selling hacks before the system was released—well, Bix wasn’t dumb.
“Come on,” Bix said. “There’s a new combat game demo at one of the booths, and they’re raffling off good stuff to try and get attention. Even a new Slix system.”
“An almost obsolete sim set-up. Just what every gamer needs.”
“Not everybody is going to be moving to the FullD when it releases next week. And maybe VirtuMax’s design is still full of bugs. They took long enough to launch the thing. Come on.”
Aran followed his friend through the increasingly crowded floor of the Expo Hall. Posters featuring Spark Jaxley kept catching his eye, especially that particular shade of magenta hair nobody could quite match. Plenty of gamers, both male and female, tried. One in ten people at the convention had some variation of pinkish-reddish hair.
But none of them were Spark.
Tomorrow, he reminded himself.
“Five minutes, Miss Jaxley,” the stage manager said.
Spark nodded from her position in the wings. For a few more minutes she could be just herself, a nervous seventeen-year-old standing in the shadows. The moment she stepped out under the lights, she’d be the sim queen, the celebrated gamer, the girl people loved, envied, and hated in equal measure.
In the early months of her fame, she’d read all her fan mail herself. Until the day she got the death threat, complete with gruesome details. It had shaken her. Not the gory descriptions, but that someone out there in the world loathed her so much they’d send all that negativity her way.
She probably still got horrible messages, but she had a secretary now who screened everything, only forwarding the real fan mail for her to answer.
On stage, the emcee began the VirtuMax introduction, talking about the search for a seamless virtual experience, the incredible talent who worked on the project, and the faerie-world inspiration behind Feyland.
If only they knew.
The game had connected to the actual Realm of Faerie in ways she didn’t quite understand. The lead programmer, a guy named Thomas Rimer, had drawn on old faerie lore and legends to create the content. And then, somehow, the realm had crossed over into reality. Tam and Jennet had tried to explain, but at a certain point there were no answers beyond one.
Magic.
“And now,” the emcee announced, “as part of an exclusive SimCon demo, please help me welcome Spark Jaxley!”
The crowd cheered, the noise raw and excited. A stagehand pressed a wireless mic into her palm, and Spark stepped onto the stage. The noise redoubled, and she let it wash over her. She couldn’t see faces beyond the blare of the lights, but she smiled as if she could.
“Hey, everybody,” she said into the mic. “It’s good to be here.”
She waited as the audience settled down. Not too far down, though; the theater still buzzed with a low hum of excitement. The premiere of the FullD system was the whole point of SimCon, after all.
She strode over to where the gleami
ng system sat, spot-lit in the center of the stage.
“Here it is,” she said. “The sim-system we’ve been waiting years for. VirtuMax’s FullD!”
More shouts and applause. She grinned at the invisible crowd.
“Want me to fire it up?” The noise rose in volume—but not enough. “Are you sure?”
The theater practically shook. Spark lowered her mic and swept her gaze across the barely visible packed seats, nodding. At last the frenzy subsided.
“I’ll give you a taste tonight of what the system can do, and show you highlights of Feyland. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a number of FullD systems on the floor for you all to try out.”
Not enough, of course, and the lines would be severely long. At least some of the convention-goers would get a chance to play. The ones that didn’t would just have to be content with an autographed picture.
Spark handed her mic to the emcee, then pulled on the gaming helm they’d wired into the theater display system. Even though the watching crowd wouldn’t be able to feel what she felt, they’d see and hear her gameplay; plus she’d do her best to narrate everything she was experiencing in-game.
She settled into the chair and loaded up the character creation screen of Feyland.
“Most of you are familiar with the types of characters here,” she said. “We’ve got casters, distance fighters, healers, melee classes—but a few new twists, too.”
With a couple of quick finger commands she called up her avatar, a magenta-haired character with pointed ears and a bow strapped to her back.
“This is the avatar I played in beta. She’s a Kitsune, with control over the elements and a few surprise talents.” Spark sent her character into Feyland, where she materialized in the familiar ring of mushrooms. “As you see, when you first enter the game, you’re in a clearing in the woods, surrounded by a faerie ring.”
She paused a moment, concentrating on the sensations.
“There’s a breeze—I can feel it against my cheeks. The moss underfoot is soft and springy, like walking on crash-test foam.”
That got a small laugh. Smiling, Spark stepped over the ring—pale mushrooms mixed with white-dotted red ones—and gestured to the path leading between the trees. “Following that path takes you to your first adventure. I’ll let you explore that part yourselves. No point in ruining all the surprises. For now, we’ll jump ahead to the city.”
She keyed in the command to take her to the next preset scene. After a quick fade to black, her character reappeared on the crest of a hill overlooking a city. White towers gleamed, colorful pennants flying over an orderly maze of cobbled streets. A high wall enclosed the buildings, and the glint of a lake at the far side of the city was just visible, the blue waters shining beneath the sun.
“The city of Stronghold,” she said. “Here you’ll find vendors, combat trainers, and a huge variety of quests that send you off to explore the many fantastical areas of Feyland.”
Though, hopefully, not to the Dark Court, where the merciless and lovely queen ruled, hungry for entry into the mortal world. Spark shivered at the memory of the queen’s sharp-edged smile. Quickly, she sent her character striding down the road and through the city gates.
Non-player characters, NPCs, thronged the streets, selling their wares: bunches of herbs and flowers, loaves of bread, shiny knives. One corner boasted a juggler, while another featured a yellow-haired girl playing the fiddle. Sounds and smells filled the air, and Spark did her best to describe the mix of fresh-baked bread, dust, and lavender.
“We’ll swing by the Lucky Tavern,” she said, cutting through an alleyway. “Always good to start your questing with a refreshing beverage.”
The crowd laughed at that, as they were supposed to.
Spark entered the tavern and ordered a tankard of ale. She took a swig, then set it with a clunk on the wooden bar.
“Doesn’t taste too bad, though nothing like real ale. Not that I’d know, being below the drinking age.” She made her character wink, and the crowd joined in her amusement. “I heard that in the early stages of development, everything in-game tasted like bananas. Compared to that, ale is divine. You can order fruit juice or water, too, if that’s more your speed. VirtuMax tries to cover all the bases—though I’ve yet to see an espresso stand in the city.”
“Maybe someone should start one up!” a guy called from the crowd.
“He’d get business,” Spark said. “Actually, one of the upcoming expansions includes an interactive life simulation, so if your dream is to become a shopkeeper in Stronghold, with a few adventures on the side, you can do that. Or you can just spend all your time killing monsters. Speaking of which…”
She activated the final demo sequence. Her character materialized at the edge of a lake. Sunlight sparkled off the silver-blue water, and behind her stretched a field of golden grain. In front of her, though, the earth was charred and barren, a blackened swath leading up to a tumbled pile of boulders that were obviously the lair of some dire creature.
“One of the interesting things about Feyland,” she said, sending her character toward the stones, “is that the fights change, depending on your characters and party members. If I were in a group with a heavily armored fighter and a caster, for example, I’d find a different monster waiting ahead. As it is, the fights are challenging, though not impossible.”
Unless the gamer stumbled into the Realm of Faerie. But her job was to make sure that didn’t happen.
“So, you’re on easy mode?” some heckler called.
“No. I might die in this fight, which would be embarrassing.” The crowd chuckled along with her. “Just like in other games, dying is pretty inconvenient, and involves corpse-running. That is, taking time to run your ghost from the graveyard back to where you died, so you can reincorporate.”
She strode up to the very edge of the rocks and drew her bow from her back. Then, cautiously, she crept forward. Past the first outcropping lay an open area of bare ground, and behind it gaped the dark maw of a cave.
“It smells bad here—like charred hair and rotten meat. The developers had fun with the scent-scapes, though not everything is nasty in-game. I should have mentioned that the tavern smelled like wood smoke and baking bread.”
Something stirred in the back of the cave, and adrenaline spun through her. Quickly, she nocked an arrow and ducked for the partial cover of the granite boulder beside her.
With a scuttling rush, a creature charged into the clearing. Half lizard, half fighting rooster, it had the sharp-beaked head and nasty talons of a bird and a long, whip-like tail ending in a wicked spike. The whole hideous package stood over ten feet tall. It scanned the clearing and let out an angry shriek.
“Basilisk,” she said in a low voice. “Paralyzes for two seconds with its gaze, highly venomous bite, lethal tail spike.”
Spark’s focus tightened until she forgot she was in a demo game. The watching crowd faded until there was nothing but her character, and the fight.
Aiming for one of the creature’s yellow-crusted eyes, Spark let her arrow fly, then ducked back behind her boulder. The basilisk let out a squawk that sounded more annoyed than pain-filled. Damn, she’d missed. Which meant she now had a fully pissed-off bird looking to kill her.
She bent low and ran to a smaller tumble of rocks. Barely in time. The spike of the creature’s tail stabbed through the air where she’d just been. It was hard for her to take aim at the basilisk while avoiding its line of sight. She shot another arrow, this one landing in the joint of the creature’s leg.
Unfortunately, its lizard scales plated the basilisk in nearly impenetrable armor. She had to find its weak spots. There might be one behind its ankle, though with that sharp spur it wasn’t an easy target. Better than the eyes, though, which were going to be hard to reach unless she got a perfect shot.
A drop of venom splashed from the basilisk’s mouth, scorching the ground and sending up a waft of toxic smoke.
Spark tucked and rolled, comi
ng up under the creature’s belly. Drawing her boot dagger, she slashed at the back of its ankle, above where the sharp spur jutted out. The blade slid harmlessly off the thick scales, and she had to fling herself to the side as the basilisk hissed and kicked out.
Okay, not vulnerable in the ankle.
Breath rasping in her throat, Spark darted back toward the cover of the rocks. A painful heat hit the back of her shoulders, and her steps slowed until she stood motionless, facing the solid granite, but not protected by it. The basilisk had caught her in its evil gaze.
Come on—move! She desperately tried to budge, but her character was frozen, helpless. Her heartbeat pulsed through her, quick and urgent. She could hear the basilisk approaching behind her, its steps unhurried. It knew it had her.
Except… it didn’t.
Spark called up her trump card, and the reason she’d picked a Kitsune to play in the first place. The scene in front of her shifted, the colors washing out, the sounds three times louder. She was dimly aware of the audience reaction as she morphed into fox form.
The basilisk was nearly upon her. She heard it halt and bend down, the snick of its beak opening as it prepared to give its venomous death bite.
Whirling, she gathered her four paws under her and leaped.
She landed on the back of the basilisk’s neck, where scales turned to feathers. Scrabbling for purchase, she forced herself closer to the top of its head. The creature shrieked and shook, trying to dislodge her. Droplets of burning venom singed her fur. She was slipping…
And then she was holding on, back in her human form, her dagger still in her hand. She raised it high and plunged it into the basilisk’s right eye. The blade entered with a liquid splat and the creature swayed.
Spark leaped free as the basilisk toppled to the ground, dead. Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears, but the familiar victory rush sang through her blood—fear turning to exhilaration in that curious, quicksilver alchemy she loved.
