by Jason Segel
“How did it get to this point?” Kat asks. “Even if the Children have let everything go, where are the NPCs who used to work here?”
“No idea,” I say. Given the fate that’s befallen the Children, I’m not sure I want to find out, either.
After a frustrating search, Kat and I find a set of stairs and make our way outside, where it’s already as dark as night. Flashing signs paint the city a rainbow of colors. The street itself is hidden beneath trash that’s been tossed from the apartment balconies above. I glance up just in time to spot a cascade of garbage raining from a building nearby. After it crashes to the ground, the city is eerily silent once again. I see no signs of life other than two giant rodents wading through the refuse. I’m getting the sense that we’re not in the best part of town.
“Look.” Kat points to a sign down the street.
OTHERWORLD TOURS, shouts the video billboard. SEE THE REALMS WITH YOUR OWN EYES! A picture of a luxury boat on a bright blue lake appears. The deck is crowded with Children looking over the side at the tentacles of an enormous sea creature that are reaching up from below. VISIT NEMI AND ENCOUNTER THE BEAST! I encountered the beast once. I knew her son. It’s tragic that she’s become a tourist attraction.
I press the button on the wall and take a step back.
“What?” a feminine voice rudely demands.
I’m not quite sure how to answer. “Hi, my name is Simon and my friend is Kat. We’re looking for Bird. We were told she might be able to take us to Albion.”
“Albion?” the voice responds. “No one offers tours of Albion. You can visit cities or vacation realms. The rest of the realms are too dangerous for tourists.”
“We aren’t looking for a tour. Just a ride.”
“To Albion?” She can’t seem to wrap her mind around it.
I glance over at Kat and she shrugs. “Yes, to Albion.”
There’s a long pause. “I don’t do body disposal or transport illegal substances.”
“Excellent. Neither do we,” I assure her.
“Just drop-off. No waiting, no pickup.”
“Sure,” I respond with a sigh. The door pops open in front of us.
Inside, the shop looks abandoned, but there’s a Child behind the counter. I don’t know if she’s aware of it, but she’s definitely a descendant of Magna, Milo Yolkin’s old avatar. When we first enter, her skin is a pale, silvery blue. The moment she sees us, she flushes a bright, pulsating red. I’m standing twenty feet from her, and I can feel the heat radiating off her body. Something’s triggered the reaction—she seems strangely disturbed by our appearance. I don’t recognize the device she pulls from under the counter and aims in our direction. But it’s safe to assume that it’s some kind of weapon.
“What are you?” she demands. “Where did you come from?”
I guess it’s been so long since humans visited Otherworld that no one knows what we are.
“We’re avatars,” Kat tells her.
“The Children once called us guests,” I add. My explanation doesn’t help at all. If anything, she looks much more eager to pull the trigger.
“My grandmother told me the guests were evil.”
“Most, but not all of them.” As always, Kat’s kept her cool. “The man who lives in the tower was a guest once, too. He’s the one who told us about you. He said you could take us wherever we needed to go.”
I breathe a sigh of relief when the weapon is lowered. “You know the Ancient?”
“The Ancient?” I ask.
“They call him that because he has been here for as long as anyone can remember. He tells us what the world was like after the guests left and before the Children discovered machines. My parents knew him when they were children. He never leaves his house and he never grows any older. He insists he is not a god, so we call him the Ancient. He’s sent you here?”
“Yes,” Kat confirms.
“Then I will gladly help you. The Ancient has always been kind to me.”
Bird’s skin began to cool as she spoke. By the time she’s finished, it’s returned to its original silvery blue. Her tone has changed just as dramatically. Once hostile, it’s now almost reverent. Nothing beats having good connections, I suppose.
“Thank you,” Kat says.
“Albion is dangerous,” Bird warns her. “It’s not what it once was.”
“We’re ready.” Kat reaches back and shows Bird an arrow from her ever-present quiver. “In fact, we’re in a bit of a rush. When will you be able to leave?”
“I can go now if you like,” says the Child.
I glance around at the shop. There’s nothing here that would suggest that Bird’s operation is prepared for anything other than a good mopping.
“You’re sure about that?” I ask. “How are you going to get us there?”
“In my vehicle,” she replies, pulling a small device out of her pocket. She clicks a single button and the wall behind her lowers into the ground. Behind it is a slick black machine that’s the shape of a skipping stone. “Open,” Bird orders, and doors rise on either side, exposing an interior with two rows of plush seats and a control panel fit for a spaceship.
“Wow,” Kat marvels.
“I inherited it from my father,” Bird says bashfully. “I know it’s old, but I do all the maintenance myself. I promise it will get us there alive.”
* * *
—
The smog starts to thin as we fly out over the Wastelands. I had my first brush with death down there in the rocky red desert. Unlike in the White City, little seems to have changed here since then, and I gotta admit I’m feeling a little nostalgic. Dust devils spin the scorched red soil into frail tornados that sweep across the plain. I scan each rocky outcropping we pass, searching for the goats that almost made a meal out of me. I can’t see any signs of life, though. Even the weeds that once grew between the rocks are gone.
I spot a cloud of dust on the horizon and nudge Kat with my elbow. “Look, it’s the buffalo,” I say.
“Buffalo?” scoffs the Child. “That’s a water transport vehicle. Most realms would die without them. The buffalo are just a story parents tell to keep their offspring from wandering into the Wastelands.”
I don’t bother to correct her. I watch the vehicle take shape. At least two dozen pods are linked together by a flexible cable, a design that allows it to curve around obstacles without changing course. Though the vehicle can move like a snake when it needs to, it looks more like a human spine. It appears to be heading for a massive wall that’s come into view up ahead. Made of a lusterless metal, it rises so high that only the tip of the volcano it surrounds can be seen.
“Is that Imra?” Kat asks.
“No one calls it that anymore,” the Child tells her. “It’s home to the Scoria, the third-wealthiest family in Otherworld.”
“The entire realm belongs to a single family?” I ask. “How many of them are there?”
“Six,” says the Child as the car swings to the left. “If you don’t count their army of slaves.”
“Slaves?” Kat asks.
“I think she’s talking about NPCs,” I explain.
“Call them what you like,” Bird says. “They’ll shoot us down if we try to fly over. That’s why we’re skimming the periphery.”
“And all the walls and guns are okay with Pomba Gira?” Kat inquires.
“The old Elemental of Imra? The Scoria claim to be her descendants, though most of us doubt it’s true. They had Pomba Gira locked up as soon as their machines could rival her magic. They say she’s still down there. The Scoria use the energy from her volcano to power the city.”
“And Gimmelwald?” I see no sign of the tiny realm that once bordered Imra. The last time I visited, the Elemental there had turned what had once been a play area for underage guests into a magnificent
garden teeming with tiny green Children.
“Gimmelwald? Wow, how old are you guys?” Bird asks. “That place burned to the ground a long time ago.”
I watch in horrified silence as our journey continues. Imra isn’t the last walled realm we pass on the way to Albion. We fly over the Wastelands, careful to avoid the airspace over each realm. Glittering realms like Mammon are protected by walls. The vacation lands are easy to spot—they’re the only vibrant patches of blue and green. Most of the realms are disaster zones. Some are massive slums with tiny dwellings stacked atop one another. Others look as though they’ve been destroyed by war. The Children have already built bombs to rival those found on Earth. We fly over one realm that’s nothing more than a giant crater. Technology has destroyed this world.
The only realm that seems to be flourishing is Imperium. Bird won’t get close enough to allow us to see it properly, but from a distance, there appear to be new patches of lush vegetation growing up the sides of the city’s stark glass skyscrapers.
“The Empress has a green thumb,” Bird explains. “But I’ve heard rumors that her heart is black.”
“Empress?” I ask. Imperium must have a new ruler. “Who is she?”
“One of you, they say,” Bird answers. “I have no interest in getting close enough to confirm it.”
We’re far past Imperium when I feel the car beginning to descend. I can’t figure out why we’d be landing. There’s nothing around as far as I can see.
“We’re here,” Bird announces.
This can’t be it. There’s no sinister forest. No dragons or lairs. The entire realm is a junkyard, with towers of twisted metal and discarded electronics that rise up toward the smoke-filled sky. The sun overhead casts a dim glow, its rays unable to penetrate the smog.
The vehicle lands and the doors open.
“Is this the right place?” Kat whispers to me as we exit the vehicle. “This doesn’t look like the realm we saw in Max’s video.”
“Are you sure this is Albion?” I ask Bird once we’re outside. “Aren’t there supposed to be castles and villages?”
“There were once,” Bird says. “They were built for the amusement of the guests. But most Children these days don’t want to live in a castle or a village. The realm was abandoned shortly after the liberation. Nearby cities now use it to dump their refuse.”
“What happened to the Elemental?” Kat asks. I hold my breath as I wait for the answer. If he’s gone, this entire visit is a giant waste of time.
“He’s still here, but he does nothing to stop it,” the Child tells her. “I’ve never seen him myself. I don’t think he leaves his cave.” Bird points to a spot in the distance that I assumed was just another pile of trash. Now I can see it’s the cliff from Max’s video.
“How are we going to speak to him?” Kat asks me. “There are no quests left to complete. If we don’t bring him three prizes, he’ll toss us both out.”
It keeps getting worse and worse. I have no idea how we’re going to pull this one off.
“I think I can help you with that,” Bird tells her. “Come with me.” She gestures for us to follow her as she sets off toward the cave.
“Didn’t you say you weren’t going to stay?” Kat calls after Bird.
“I guess I changed my mind,” Bird replies over her shoulder. “Maybe you’ve grown on me.”
The smile Kat gives me is filled with relief. I don’t think either of us was looking forward to being in Albion on our own.
“How do you know your way around?” I ask when Kat and I catch back up with her.
“I make a point of visiting all the realms,” she says. “You could say it’s my hobby.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
Bird shrugs. “Hope, I guess.”
There’s a path that winds through the mountains of garbage. I’m glad I’m not wearing a disk. The smell of the place must be nauseating—and the trash towers are unstable. Every few minutes, we hear the rumble of avalanches and the crash of falling debris. Plumes of dust rise into the sky, then disperse and join the clouds around them.
We walk for miles before we reach the ruins of one of the realm’s many castles. Everything useful has been stripped away. The roof has collapsed and only a single turret remains standing. It’s hard to believe all of this destruction has taken place over a few days on Earth.
“The Dragon of Castle Carlisle waits inside,” Bird says. “The Elemental will accept one of its teeth as a prize.”
Kat reaches over her shoulder and pulls an arrow from her quiver.
“That’s not going to be necessary,” the Child assures her.
Still, Kat keeps her bow ready as she makes her way to the castle’s entrance. I follow. The realm is quiet aside from the crunch of broken glass beneath our feet and the occasional crash in the distance.
Kat stops at the threshold and puts her weapon away. When I join her, I see why there’s no need for caution. Inside, in what would once have been the castle’s great hall, lies an enormous skeleton. A city bus could have fit inside the creature’s rib cage. The wings, when outstretched, must have cast a remarkable shadow, and the long skull with its sharp teeth was large enough to swallow an avatar whole. Yet there’s nothing fierce about the dragon now. It died curled up by the hall’s massive fireplace, its head tucked beneath its wing.
I hear Bird coming our way. “The creatures here can’t leave the realm unless the Elemental releases them. Eventually there was nothing left here to sustain the dragon and she wasted away.”
I can’t believe I’m getting all weepy over a dragon, but the whole scene is pathetic. In less than an Otherworld century, a once-magnificent realm has been utterly destroyed.
“Is this what happened to all of the creatures who inhabited Albion?” Kat asks, her voice cracking.
“No,” says Bird. “The dragon was lucky. It’s been far worse for the others. Go ahead—take a tooth as a prize.”
Before we leave, I wrench a giant tooth from the dragon’s jaw. I try to be as gentle as I can, but the moment the tooth comes free in my hand, the entire skeleton collapses into a pile of bones. A cloud of dust envelops me. I let my chin fall to my chest as I wait for it to dissipate. I’m too overcome with sadness to move.
“We’ll visit the giant next,” Bird announces. “His belt is another one of the realm’s prizes. But he’ll eat you unless you can promise to set him free from this realm.”
“Fabulous,” I mutter. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
* * *
—
Not far from the castle, a river snakes across the realm. Trash drifts along on the surface, and the banks on either side are pitch-black. Nothing could possibly live in these waters and yet there’s something flesh-colored floating midstream. As we draw closer, I can see it’s a head. Someone’s left a pair of ragged trousers and a threadbare shirt by the side of the river. Their size tells me the head is that of Albion’s giant, who must be out for a swim.
Lying among the discarded clothing is a leather belt with a large golden buckle. I give Kat a look and she shrugs. She knows what I’m asking, and she’s not sure how to respond. I’m not going to let the opportunity pass. I’m reaching down to snatch the belt when the giant turns back toward the shore.
“Shit, Simon,” I hear Kat groan behind me. “Now I’m gonna have to shoot him.”
“Not yet,” I tell her. “Give it a second.”
The giant is hideous for sure, with a snout for a nose and a single bloodshot eye in the center of his forehead. But for some reason he hasn’t struck any fear in my heart. He seems to be struggling. As he emerges from the water, his chest and arms come into view. The skin sags off his bones. The flesh that once covered them has wasted away.
“You dare touch my belt?” he manages to boom in a classic giant voice. Then he stops,
still waist-deep in the water, to catch his breath. He’s clearly famished. I see him begin to teeter on his legs, and then he topples over with a splash and disappears under the water.
You face some weird ethical dilemmas here in Otherworld, that’s for sure. You can take a belt and let a starving giant drown—or save a bloodthirsty monster who’s probably eaten hundreds of players and would do just about anything for a taste of you. Fortunately I have Kat to make these decisions for me. She almost shot the guy a few seconds earlier and suddenly she’s sprinting down to the river to save him. I love her like crazy, but I swear I don’t understand half the shit she does.
I jump into the water after her, and together we manage to drag the giant to the riverbank. He’s so frail that I doubt he weighs much more than I do. The loincloth he’s wearing looks like it could slip off his hips at any moment. Once again, I thank whoever’s listening that I’m not wearing a disk. The foul soup I just swallowed would have killed me, I’m sure. Even with a headset on, the experience of swimming in water with the texture of vomit was extremely unpleasant.
Kat and I get the giant laid out on the ground. He’s still not moving, and it’s starting to seem like one of us is going to have to administer CPR. I’d rather not watch Kat lock lips with a cyclops whose mouth is crammed full of rotten teeth, so I decide to take one for the team. I’m leaning over the giant when a fountain of water gushes up from his throat and hits me square in the face.
“FEE FIE FO—” he sputters.
“Oh for God’s sake, would you stop with that tired old crap?” I shout. I’m still dripping with the water that just shot out of his lungs and I’m in no mood for this bullshit. “You’re not going to eat anyone right now.”
And with that, the giant breaks down in tears. Snot streams from both nostrils, flows across his emaciated cheeks and trickles down to the ground beneath him. It’s an absolutely hideous sight.
“Geez, Simon, was that really necessary?” Kat asks me.
