As we cross over the last of the thousand-lanes connecting NextWorld, I can see DOTcom in the distance. The carpet speeds up to its maximum bandwidth and we dive toward the city of flashing advertisements.
Where the companies of DOTbiz might save credits on design and detail, looking exactly the same no matter what street you drive down, DOTcom is where they spend those credits showing off. The domain is a mess of animations and avatars, screens and pop-up video-casts. There is no logical rhyme or reason to the shapes or buildings other than to draw attention.
Our carpet slows to a crawl as Fantom's ad-blockers run in overtime, trying to keep our view as clear as possible. I lose track of our location, lost in the maze of offers, coupons, and sales. This is an intentional effect, designed to keep you occupied in the domain for as long as you have credits to spend. Luckily, Fantom's directional software leads us through the most expensive, outer banners, and directly into the auction houses.
“We need to choose wisely,” I say, glancing around at hundreds of different spheres, boxes, towers, and landscapes, all offering their services to anyone looking to get rid of some inventory.
“Yeah,” Fantom says. “They're all goin' to take their cut. It's gonna take time to compare them all and figure out which one takes the least while still having enough members to give us a good price.”
Xen pokes his head between us and flashes a goofy smile. “I believe I can help with that.”
“How?” I ask with an annoyed skepticism.
He points at the largest auction house, TraderZone, a glowing obelisk that towers over the entire area. The hottest items cover the outer walls of the structure and most of the traffic in the domain focuses on that particular entrance. It's the most well-known and the most well-used site. It's the easiest, most user-friendly auction house, offering to take care of every function of the transaction. It's where every mom and dad and grandparent who doesn't know the ins and outs of NextWorld go to sell their junk. It's where every business trades out their overstocked virtual warehouses. It's also the most expensive auction house, taking forty percent of any profit in exchange for the ease-of-use.
“Are you crazy? We're not using TraderZone. After they take their cut, I'd be lucky to clear 150,000 credits,” I say, looking away from him as if his suggestion isn't worth any more discussion.
Xen sets his hand on my shoulder to gain my attention again and looks at me through his drooping eyes. “Kade, at some point you're going to have to trust me.”
I glance at Fantom, but she offers me a shrug, waiting for my reply. I look back into Xen's eyes, his smile glowing with a warmth that's both innocent and powerful. His inebriated mind doesn't make me feel safe. I don't trust this new Xen. I don't trust the fog that hangs over his mind. But I look at Raev and she offers me a confident nod. I'm surprised when I realize that it's her I trust.
When this is all over, I'll have the time to help Xen. I'll help him come back from wherever he is. But for now, she's the one keeping him in line, keeping him upright, until we can find a way to help him. Until we can find a way to heal his mind.
I take a deep breath and nod at Fantom. She sighs with reluctance and turns the carpet toward the entrance at the bottom of the giant obelisk, allowing the flow of traffic to swallow our carpet.
As we pass through the doorway into the brightly-lit interior, Fantom squints her eyes and says, “Let's make some credits, yo.”
01010001
The auction house is disgustingly huge. Even with the immense amount of traffic flowing in and out of the site, there's no need for the size other than to appear grandiose. I grimace at the garishness of every sign, confused by the font choices and color schemes, as well as the glaringly obvious operational flaws. It's as if they fired someone who used a minimalist approach and hired a different designer to splash his showy, ostentatious choices right on top. I rub my eyes and decide that instead of nit-picking every error and determining how I'd fix it, I'll place my judgments aside and focus on the task at hand.
I notice Fantom giving me a nervous look as we creep through the main floor. We're berated by NPC auctioneers trying to sell the wares of their customers by yelling at us from floating booths that circle the site.
I turn around and glare at a smiling Xen. “So? Now what?”
Xen opens up a screen in front of him and selects a choice without saying a word. I glance at Raev, who appears to be as calm and collected as Xen, peering around the site as if she were sight-seeing or window-shopping. Their tranquility grates on my own anxiety, causing it to boil over.
“What's the plan, Xen?” I yell over the loud announcements of an NPC right next to our floating carpet who's offering me a great deal on a virtual apartment.
Xen holds up a finger and winks at me. It drives me crazy. We're running out of time. He should be freaking out. Everyone should be freaking out.
My head jerks forward when we come to a sudden stop. A floating platform descends from above, slowing in front of the carpet. Standing atop the platform is an NPC auctioneer with a three-piece suit and a mustache that curls up on either side.
“Hello and welcome to TraderZone, where your trash is someone's treasure! How may I assist you today?”
I'm about to open my mouth when Xen leans past me and flashes a card that he pulls from his inventory. The NPC leans forward and studies the text.
“I see that you qualify for our non-profit-religion exemption program. I'm pleased to accept your use of our services today, free of charge.”
Fantom and I glance at each other, then turn and look at Xen with disbelief.
He holds up his hands and smiles. “What?”
“I thought you said there were strict rules to stop any kind of corruption in the church.”
He pops a pill between his lips, his eyelids hang low over his eyes, and he mumbles, “We're not in church.”
I glance at Raev who takes a deep breath in through her nose and says, “Metaversalism teaches us that to deny a gift, is to deny love.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I don't know if I'd call subverting a loophole in a government program a 'gift.'”
Fantom smirks and says, “Maybe they've been hangin' out with me a little too much, yo.”
Xen scratches his chin and without losing his smile he says, “I'll have to meditate upon this course of action and determine whether this was an accurate translation of the lesson...”
“Later, my love,” Raev says as she pats him on the back. “There's always time for that later.”
“Yes, of course,” he says with a wink, “later.”
I turn back to the NPC and offer our Koins to him. He places them in a temporary storage and yells out like a battle cry, “Profit!” as his floating platform spins into the air.
“And now we wait,” Fantom says.
She pulls the carpet to the right and parks it near a concession stand selling digital food and drinks. My stomach growls in the real world when I smell the fried foods. I instinctively rub my belly and Fantom notices.
“You should log-out. Eat.”
I shake my head and look away. “I can eat after we finish this.”
Raev places her hand on my back and says, “A bit of vitapaste may give you the strength you need.”
“It does a body good,” Xen says as he tosses three pills into his mouth at once.
“I'll be fine.”
I don't want to admit the truth. I don't want to admit how scared I am of the real world. I don't want to admit how frightened I am of leaving my virtual existence again. I don't want to feel the cold of the tower room. I don't want to face the harsh glare of the artificial sunlight. I don't want to see my real face looking back at me in the reflective screen above the sink. But most of all, I'm afraid that if I leave, I won't be able to come back.
It's not logical. Fantom has assured me that she has everything under control. She assured me that Ekko's tower room is perfectly safe. Her algorithms and protocol bypasses divert my signal in so man
y directions that tracing my actions would be like finding a needle in a haystack of needles. None of this means that my fear disappears.
I watch Xen slide some more pills between his lips. His eyelids become heavier and heavier, slowly shutting as his head rests against Raev's shoulder.
“Do you think it's a good idea for him to be downloading so many of those apps?”
The question startles her. She glances down at Xen's face and smiles.
“Just look at him.”
“I am. He looks... sick.”
She runs her hand lightly across his cheek.
“No,” she says. “He looks calm. You didn't see what he was like... before. It's like you said, his mind was broken when he died in that game. He suffered from nightmares and panic attacks every day. If the pills help him...”
“Downloading inebriation software isn't going to cure him of anything. It's just making him weaker.”
She looks uncomfortable, like I'm challenging something she's not ready to face.
“You think I don't want him to get better? You think I don't want him to think clearly again? You think I don't want to look into his eyes and see the man I fell in love with?”
At first, I can't help connect the dots to Cyren. This new Cyren that I'm trying to save. It feels like what Raev is describing is so similar to what I'm afraid of happening to Cyren. Is the virus that stole her from me any different than the apps that Xen is downloading? They've both changed the people we love into unrecognizable faces.
But Cyren didn't choose that virus. Every time Xen puts one of those things in his mouth, there's a moment he can still be saved.
“I don't know what to do,” she continues. “The church needs him too. We've been relying on prerecorded sermons for longer than I care to admit. Our congregation is shrinking every day because there's nothing new. They want him to lead, his words, his music.” She shakes her head, rethinking her sentence. “But Metaversalism teaches us to support our partner, even when they fall.”
“You aren't supporting him. You're letting him lay on the ground.”
“I'm respecting his choice,” she says and I can see the anger in her eyes. “Reality is too much for him right now. It's too hard. He made a choice to escape.” Her eyes flash at me like darts. “Didn't he support you when you made the same choice?”
“I wasn't-”
Before I can reply, a bell rings above us. Xen's eyes flash open and he sits up straight, searching for the source of the noise. The auctioneer floats down and opens a screen with a number on it.
“You've received a bid for 265,000 credits!”
“Accept!” I shout.
Xen slaps his palm against the accept button on the screen.
“Congratulations on your successful auction. Would you like to participate in a quick survey to help improve our services?”
Fantom yanks on the front of the carpet and we lift off, zooming over the heads of the auctioneers and firing through the exit, into the glossy, flashy domain of DOTcom. We skim between two animated billboards featuring competing dating services and turn toward DOTnet.
I want to keep arguing with Raev, to make her understand, but I push it away. There will be time for that later. I'll help Xen and fix everything once Cyren is safe.
It only takes a few minutes for us to reach DOTnet, but I'm counting every second. My anxiety tries to push the carpet faster, closer to our goal.
She's so close.
We enter the sewers underneath the domain and our carpet slides into the tunnels. Fantom opens up a screen and sends a simple audio-cast to Worlok.
“We got your credits.”
It takes a few panic-inducing seconds, but he finally responds with a teleport. The tunnel drops away and his surrealist hacker house slams into view. We're standing in a room that twists as you look further into it. Worlok is standing dead center.
“I'm impressed,” he says, slapping me on the back even though he's in front of me. “You must be an awfully good gamer to get that many Koins in a few hours.”
“I don't have time to talk about how impressed you are.” I swipe my hand across my inventory and toss the credits into a trade screen. “Just take your credits and give us the doorway.”
“Sorry, but it's not that easy. I can't just hand you a doorway and expect you to turn the knob. This is a serious hack, and unless you've got the time to spend learning my program, I'll have to lead you through.”
I glance at Fantom, unsure if this is normal or not. I figure she can see through his lies better than I can. She nods at me, confirming the need for his assistance, but she doesn't look happy about it.
“Good,” he says and even without an actual face, I can hear his smile in his voice. He's excited by what's about to happen. “First, you're all going to need key markers in your inventory to let the program know you have access to the entry point.”
He pulls something from his inventory and opens his hand, offering us a small pile of keys. We all step forward and pick up one of the antique looking objects. They're made of a tarnished iron, with an intricate design at the top. I spin mine around upright to see it better. The iron work wraps around itself, creating a logo with two question marks back to back.
Just like the logo printed on the virus.
01010010
I lunge for Worlok. My arms thrust out like grappling hooks, reaching for his neck. He doesn't flinch. This is his world. The vertigo of the room throws me to the side. The gravity of the ceiling slams me upward.
I should have known better, but I'm not thinking straight. I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. I want to act.
“What are you doin', yo?” Fantom steps between me and Worlok as I climb back to my feet.
“It was his virus that deleted the game.” The words burn inside my throat. Tears, like hot acid, run from my eyes. My head is swimming. “He killed her.”
I leap at him again, but this time Fantom stops me. With one hand she snatches me from the air, her fingers wrapping around my throat.
“You're actin' crazy, yo. Worlok is our only chance of savin' her.”
“This is his fault!” I'm trying to scream through my crying, “That symbol! Those question marks. That's his logo. That's what he puts on his apps, right?”
“Hackers like to leave their mark,” Fantom says, oddly quiet. “At least the arrogant ones.”
“It was on the virus,” I growl, my eyes burning white hot hate into Worlok. “He made it. He created the thing that took her away from me.”
Fantom sets me down, but she holds up a single finger in front of my face, telling me to stop. Worlok crosses his arms and leans against a wall, as if he's bored by my accusations. Fantom glances at him, but he offers her nothing other than a shrug of his shoulders. If he had a mouth, I'd kick in every one of his teeth.
“I take it you haven't told him your role in all of this?” Worlok says, his faceless head turning toward Fantom.
She's staring at the floor with a look that I've never seen her make. It's shame.
“What's he talking about?” Xen asks.
“Yes, Fantom,” Worlok says, allowing a grin to appear on his face. “What am I talking about?”
My mouth is hanging open, waiting for her silence to end.
“I had to save you,” she mumbles.
My voice is low and steady when I ask, “What do you mean? What did you do?”
She flashes Worlok a look of anger.
I grab a hold of her arm.
“What did you do?”
“It started with the parent groups. They were protestin' your entrapment in the world. They didn't think it was right what DOTgov was doin'. They were startin' to question whether DOTfun was safe for their own children. Normally that stuff gets lost in DOTorg. No one pays attention. But the gamer news-casts were still interested in you. Still interested in your story. People started askin' questions. Too many questions.”
She pulls her arm from my grip. “I read th
e files in DOTgov, I listened to the conversations. When you fell into the coma, they ran out of excuses. They were going to pull the plug, yo.”
She points her finger in my face. “You saved my life! I couldn't just sit back and watch them kill you.”
I'm unable to catch up to the truth. My lips try to form words, but I only mumble, “You killed her.”
“No. I didn't. What I did was choose to save you first. She's still alive, Cowboy. I'm goin' to save both of you.”
“You put that virus in our world and you-”
“Actually, the virus was my idea,” Worlok brags. “When Cyren came to me for help, I wasn't sure it was possible to get you out. But I knew that if I completely deleted the game world, there would be nothing left to interface with your nanomachines. They'd be able to do a cold reboot of your E-Womb without anything to cause feedback. There would be nothing interacting with you to fry your brain. Course, then I had to find a way to get the virus inside the game world. Every stream between DangerWar2 and NextWorld was locked down... until you requested that video-cast. Like a Trojan horse, I hid the worm inside the stream and... ” He flashes me a smile. “...ta da! Here you are.”
I burst toward him, my fists flinging and lashing out in a crazy swirl of psychotic violence. I'm losing it, my emotions are exploding and I have no way to contain them. But while we're inside his private site, Worlok doesn't even need to move. I'm thrown to the floor immediately.
“You killed her,” I say, weeping into the wood floor. “You destroyed the most important thing in the world to me.”
He turns to Fantom, deciding I'm not worth trying to communicate with. Fantom nods to him and leans down next to me.
“DOTgov was done makin' excuses to the media. They were done tryin' to convince parents that NextWorld was safe for their kids. They were goin' to shut down the game world and your mind. I didn't have any other choice.”
I feel betrayed. My emotions are so overwhelming that I can't look at anything logically. I'm hearing what Fantom is saying, and I'm sure a part of me knows that she isn't the enemy. What she did was the best option in a lose/lose scenario. But I'll never admit that risking Cyren's life for my own was the right choice, even though Cyren made the same choice.
The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point Page 17
