Aeon Chronicles Online_Book 1_Devil's Deal

by Dante Sakurai

  “Tell me,” Roth said, drumming the stack of papers with his fingers once, “How much do you really like to play those computer games of yours?”

  What?

  This day was getting stranger by the minute.

  “It sates my boredom,” Rowan said and shrugged. “They’re more engaging than most other leisure activities.”

  Roth’s lips pinched in understanding. “What features do you enjoy the most? Why do you enjoy them?”

  This couldn’t be happening. He had to be dreaming—discussing video games with a neurologist.

  Rowan settled on humoring the good doctor and exaggerating by a tad to improve his gaming-resume. “I enjoy the strategy and character building aspects, city-building and grand strategy at times as well. I like to find new, creative strategies to win difficult scenarios. I enjoy overcoming difficult odds and proving my superiority, especially in online multiplayer games. Luckily most games haven’t been blocked by the facility network. My good parents brought a collection of my games a year back.” Mostly true. The only tidbit was how his unpredictable, fiery emotions got in the way of his judgment when things didn’t go his way. The accident also seemed to knock quite a few points off his IQ as well.

  Roth had listened intently and nodded once when Rowan finished. “That’s good. Very good.”

  Something about his tone put Rowan on alert. The void stirred in its slumber, a thread of ice curling around Rowan’s neck.

  A minute passed as Roth read a paper which Rowan assumed to be a report on himself. Flickers of irritation streaked across his chest.

  “Have you heard of Synaptic Entertainment before, Rowan?” Roth asked without looking up from the report.

  The name registered in under a second. “I read several articles in a weekly gaming magazine that featured the company. They’ve apparently been developing a new, fully-immersive virtual reality MMO for over a decade now and announced the game last year. It uses a similar technology to the simulation you used…”

  Rowan’s eyes snapped to the pod machine, a line of intuition telling him it was a virtual reality device. Did Roth have something to do with this new game? What the fuck was happening right now?

  Roth’s slow chuckle broke the silence. “My lad.”

  “What do you want from me, Roth?” Any remnants of Rowan’s polite mask vanished. The void within him woke and cold fractals diffused across his skin.

  Roth adjusted his glasses. For the first time, Rowan noticed a tiny, engraved symbol on the rim of the right spectacle next to the hinge. An inverted triangle pointed to a smaller circle inside a larger, upright triangle. Rowan could just make out the shapes from a distance. It wasn’t a brand he recognized.

  Perhaps a secret society? Rowan had heard of such things but never thought they were real.

  “Do you know what is in this, Rowan?” Roth tapped the report against the desk. “Don’t answer. It is a physiological analysis of your memories from the day you murdered your classmate. It appears that not only your actions were highly premeditated, but you knew very well of the consequences and how you’d plea to the courts. I did you a favor to keep this away from the authorities. I am now calling in that favor.”

  How dare this bastard manipulate him like that! Roth had played him like a tool, pulling the strings this whole time from high above. No wonder the director had been so nervous—he had probably been blackmailed too by this snake just to set this all up.

  Blood boiling, Rowan steadied his breath. His chest thumped each time the paper whacked the table. The prospect of freedom was all there was keeping him from flipping the table and launching himself at the old doctor. The void begged, screamed in shards of ice for Rowan to do so—and he wanted, needed to make Roth pay for trying this on him.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?” Roth’s mask was also gone at this point. He was just like Rowan in many ways, amoral, cunning, deceptive. “Speak to me, Rowan. You’ve had over a year to practice your words.”

  “Yes, Doctor Roth.” The words flowed in a silky stream. His tongue was a liquid void as the room gyrated back and forth under his pulse. “I understand. I appreciate your favor.” A smile that didn’t reach his eyes pulled at his cheeks.

  “Good.” The report landed back on the pile.

  “Now,” Roth said, leaning back and arching his fingers, “Aeon Chronicles Online is progressing through beta and our players, adults and teenagers, have given very positive feedback. I’m telling you this because we don’t just want very positive feedback—we want extraordinarily positive feedback and worldwide attention once we ship. This will be a revolution in not just the games industry but the start of a major societal transition.” He paused. “Do you understand?” His eyebrow arched; his head titled by a degree.

  A major societal transition? Rowan had to admit, “No I’m afraid I don’t understand how a virtual reality video game will change society.” The conversation was beginning to pique his curiosity and dim the anger he felt for the doctor.

  Roth shook his head and tutted. “Imagine a world where people can be whatever they want, whatever they dream of. Whatever they can’t be in real life. The disabled, poor, elderly, anyone who is disadvantaged can live a better, richer life. A world where knowledge can be directly uploaded to one’s mind. Whether it’s playing silly magic or running a multi-billion dollar corporation or learning an advanced science, anyone and everyone can do it on a whim without any needs or prerequisites. All they need to do is run a simulation much like booting up a game on a computer. But not all will be receptive—no; people are always wary of new things and the risks involved. Some will protest and riot and claim blasphemy. We’ve decided to drip feed this technology to the public. Aeon Chronicles is just the start, a fantasy MMO set in medieval times—a way for society to get its feet wet, so to speak. Do you remember the wolf simulation you went through? It’s indistinguishable from reality, isn’t it? Do you understand now?”

  Rowan’s mind reeled, his skull whiplashed from the sudden change in mood, the bubbling void in his spine extinguished. Firstly, Roth wasn’t evil and neither was whatever hidden hand he represent—he was guarding the future. Humanity’s future. He was doing what needed to be done, unafraid of moral barriers or petty laws. And secondly, Roth was offering Rowan a place within this grand transition. He could already see himself lording over the masses and proving his superiority.

  But he didn’t know what his role would be. “And what do you need from me?”

  Roth grinned. “Tell me, apart from basic needs and a better life, what do people desire the most?”

  Another quandary. Roth was full of interesting puzzles. Maybe Rowan could forgive the doctor for manipulating him. Almost forgive—but not quite. “Money and power?” A logical answer.

  “An obvious answer, but not correct.” Roth leaned forward. “It’s conflict, Rowan. People desire conflict more than anything else.”

  That didn’t seem right. People usually wanted peace and prosperity, not war and chaos and infighting. Rowan scowled. “Really? Conflict?”

  “Exactly conflict,” Roth said in a near whisper, “What is good? What is evil? It’s nothing but a duality of perception. To be good is to not be evil and vice versa. Above all else, people desire to destroy what they perceive as evil at any and all cost. People desire to be right. People desire to be just. When you killed your classmate, you believed you were delivering justice even when you knew society would deem otherwise. It’s as base and fickle and varied between individuals as needing to sleep and eat and mate. But everyone loves a story of good’s triumph over evil. Everyone.”

  Rowan guessed Roth made sense in a twisted sort of way. But he still hadn’t explained what Rowan’s role would be in this transition. He began to tire of all this philosophical blabbering. “And? What do I have to do? Destroy evil in your game?”

  Roth straightened his posture and steepled his fingers again. “No, Rowan.” His eyes narrowed a millimeter. “You will be that evil. Y
ou will be the final villain players need to defeat.”

  And it all suddenly made sense. Could he do it? Play the bad guy? The proposition was tempting. The masses won’t be kneeling before him but at least he’d be able to squash the idiots and pigs and wolves under his boot with impunity. Slaughtering all the piggy-boys in a virtual world and bringing forth a reign of blood… Rowan could do it. Definitely.

  “Why not hire an actor?” Rowan asked, the thought springing.

  Roth shook his head. “Even the best actors can’t stay in character as a psychopathic maniac for months on end. The realism of the game—blood, gore, and death—would be difficult for most to handle. We need a genuine, ruthless, emotionless killer. You are one of few who is still mentally stable and of sufficient intelligence, if you can call it that.”

  Plausible answer. Though… “Why not an AI?”

  Roth’s head tilted a few degrees. “Did I say you’d just be the villain in-game?”

  “What?” Rowan said out loud.

  “You will play the role of a released murderer using your own name, which you are despite your non-conviction, and claim to have hacked into the game from an unknown Internet channel.” Roth pulled a blank piece of paper from the pile and whipped out a pen then began scribbling notes. “You will cause chaos and destruction starting from now and grow into the role of the final raid boss right on the game’s release day. The AI controller has already been given directives to facilitate this.” He paused, writing furiously, bullet point after bullet point.

  Did he not think Rowan could remember this? He felt almost insulted. “I can remember, thank you.”

  “It’s not to help you remember,” Roth said and chuckled. “I seem to have misplaced the top-secret agreement contract.”

  Rowan deadpanned. For a genius visionary, he could sure be an idiot.

  Roth continued, “Your involvement will be leaked to the media when the game is released and hopefully cause an uproar. Synaptic Entertainment will claim it’s out of their hands because the entire game and infrastructure is under control of the AI and they hadn’t implemented sufficient external control mechanisms. Our agents in government will prevent a forced shutdown, reasoning it’s just a game and people can log out at any moment they wish to.”

  “But they will play? And try to bring me to justice?” Rowan could see this plan working but it was convoluted—the most convoluted, round-a-bout plan he’d ever heard or read.

  “Oh yes. Believe me.” Roth kept scribbling. Despite the speed he wrote, his old, wrinkled hand produced a neat script. “You’ll stay in a safe house we provide after your release from this institution and regularly post taunts and footage of your so-called in-game crimes.”

  This was too much. Rowan should have laughed and brushed off the doctor but knew he was being very, very serious. “And what happens if I’m defeated? When good triumphs over evil?”

  Roth wrote a final line, ending the sentence with a dramatic dot from his pen. “Is it not obvious? You will simply log off and Synaptic Entertainment will not press charges for your apparent hack due to all the traffic you sent their way. Worst case scenario, we will have to fake your suicide and give you a new face and identity.”

  “You really have the power and influence to do that?”

  Roth nodded, leaving Rowan astounded. This was definitely a secret society that had been pulling society’s string.

  “And you will not disclose anything we’ve discussed in this room,” Roth said, finality in his tone. He slid the contract and pen across the table.

  Rowan rolled his eyes. “Obviously.” He scanned the script, not trusting that the doctor wouldn’t sneak in an extra condition. The only clause which Roth hadn’t mentioned was Rowan’s handsome monthly salary paid to an offshore account, freeing him from his parents’ control. He looked Roth in the spectacles. “Very well. I’ll do it.” And enjoy it too. He picked up the ornate pen and signed at the end where indicated.

  Chapter 5

  Hard Coded

  Roth had lunch ordered and brought to the room, a chicken burger for Rowan and a tuna salad for himself, plus tea for drinks. The delivery guard had come and gone without trouble. While Rowan had gorged, he had asked whatever question that’d popped into his mind while Roth prattled on about minor details. The enjoyment of conversation appeared to be part of Roth’s true personality either because he liked the sound of his own voice or liked to blither streams of knowledge. Rowan could put up with the good doctor’s droning old voice but he appreciated the information on his mission, truly.

  The VR pods worked through a combination of nanobots injected into the bloodstream and a field manipulator based on quantum technology which Rowan didn’t understand—something about non-disruptive particle fields and bosons. A ring of needles injected packets of nanobots into various veins across the body and had to be repeated monthly before the bots biodegraded. Once in the bloodstream, half of the bots swim to one’s head and pass through the blood-brain barrier, guided by the pod’s local quantum processor. The other half remains dispersed throughout the body, preventing significant atrophy. Each bot carried a small store of nutrients. The technology was impressive, Rowan granted, though it didn’t scratch his curiosity as much as Roth seemed to expect.

  And the whole VR system would only be priced at a few thousand credits and a few hundred for six months of nanobot supply. This technology had been heavily subsidized by government black-budget. Even those working minimum wage jobs alongside AI-controlled automatons could afford a pod after a bit of saving.

  Roth had assured Rowan there’d be no compatibility problems regarding his damaged, implant-aided brain. The doctor was a genius through and through.

  Rowan had cut Roth’s lecture short out of boredom and asked about the game when he had finally finished his chicken burger. He’d ordered the extra large burger—the breakfasts weren’t as nice here and Rowen typically skipped.

  Aeon Chronicles had been designed as a typical medieval fantasy MMO. Towns, cities, castles, kings, elves, dwarfs, dragons, dungeons, magic—basically what you’d expect. The world was a globe twice the size of earth, though a magical barrier limited the playing area to three continents which were only connected by the northern ice shelf. One for each faction. Roth had left it at that, arguing that discovering the lore was part of the experience. Rowan didn’t care either way. He was more interested in the game mechanics.

  All players started out as a classless adventurer, randomly spawned in one of many starter towns in a continent depending on the race and faction picked. Quests, events, storylines, NPCs, etc, are all dynamically generated and controlled by the world’s AI controller—limited to within the playable area. That was the only limit the AI had to deal with. New classes and abilities could be generated at any moment but Roth reported this was exceedingly rare. Exceptional individuals who experienced interesting, uncommon lives received personally-tailored quests and abilities. Most players ended up playing as a generic fantasy class. The current endgame raids featured a bandit king and a pirate lord, whom none had defeated yet. World bosses were permanently killed and replaced in due time by the AI controller. How original.

  Roth then ranted on about the AI and how it was a technological marvel of weak AI on its own. It was not strong AI but many academics and engineers had speculated it was close.

  “Alright,” Rowan cut off the doctor and slapped his hand on the table, “Where do I start? Didn’t you mention a special directive given to the controller?”

  Roth’s eyes flicked to him. “Indeed. My lead engineer informs me upon login, you will be given a premade character appearance, a special item, and two quests. On top of the free starting items you’ll pick up in town, of course.”

  “That’s all?” Rowan’s nose wrinkled for a second. How would he become a final raid boss with just that? The challenge appealed to him but even he recognized a potentially impossible task. “What’s the item?”

  Roth sipped his green tea and
poured more from the steamer kettle. He shrugged. “Only the AI knows.”

  He couldn’t be serious.

  Rowan huffed. “I thought you said no external control mechanisms would just be a lie for the public.”

  “Not for individual items. We only have limited admin control over players, invisible hovering cameras, and a few other features. All items are held in a highly encrypted, compressed format which only the AI controller understands…” Roth drew a blocky diagram as he explained the infrastructure and limitations that the Synaptic Entertainment engineering team faced. Rowan let most of the technical details wash over him but took note the fact that the only direct control they had over items was when they were posted on the real money marketplace.

  By the time the frosty void became fed up with Roth’s ramblings, Rowan stood and stretched his cramped back. He said, voice silk-smooth. “I think that’s enough, doctor. Let’s begin.” He walked to the VR pod and brushed his fingers over the matte, polymer surface.

  Sighing a raspy breath, Roth also stood. “Of course. I’m sure you’ll figure it all out or eventually read about it through the in-game web-browser which—”