by Hugo Huesca
He turned a corner and found himself in a dead alley, one of those where rogues and thieves could find their own special Shopkeepers. But instead, he found a shadow monster towering menacingly over a girl, who cowered in a corner. She looked at Kastor with a terrified expression. She had to be an adventurer since neither citizens nor Shopkeepers could feel that much emotion. Yet she was unarmed and dressed in the simple wool tunic that some citizens used.
“She’s new to the profession,” he thought. He advanced towards the monster, puffing his chest:
“Step away from her, foul creature!”
The monster didn’t move, instead, it turned its vaporous head without moving its neck. It seemed to be made of dark smoke, except it wasn’t like other shadows he had fought before. Shadows seemed, well, like shadows. Smooth, faint, dark, and shaped like the demon warlocks of the lower levels of the Blazing Hell Plane, their home.
You needed enchanted weapons to strike at them or magic. Kastor had neither of those with him, even if he could somehow bypass the city spells.
But this monster looked grainy, not smooth like made of millions of jumpy sand grains, and was so dark that it seemed more a hole in the air than a shadow. Its entire body moved with sudden jerky motions, at random, and sometimes it was like an entire arm or leg shifted position in the air just a bit before returning to its place. It had no eyes and no mouth.
Kastor decided that it was some new elite troop. The warlocks must have created him recently, that was how it tricked the city’s magic.
Luckily for the girl, Kastor was more powerful than a mere shadow demon, even in a Peaceful Zone. If the monster somehow managed to attack them, he could simply tank the attacks until they reached safety.
“Leave,” said the shadow, with a raspy voice that sounded like crushed glass. “This does not concern you.”
It talked. Normal monsters just growled. The leaders, the ones that waited for you at the end of the cave, after you spent yourself and your friends had used most of their spells, those were the monsters who talked. If one had managed to slip inside the city, it could mean trouble.
Even then, the girl looked at him with big, round, terrified eyes. She shook her head. Something wasn’t right.
Inside him, one sliver of another-self stirred, so faint; a dream inside a dream. The sliver opened a console somewhere far away and searched the name of the monster in front of Kastor.
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you,” spat Kastor, “now step away from the girl before I send you back from the wretched place you came from.”
“Will you?” said the monster. It made a choking sound, like crushed chalk. No, it was laughing. “I certainly doubt you know of that place, kid.”
“I’m no kid. I’m Kastor Rivan, Diamond member of the Adventurers Guild. I don’t know how you got in Gulaz Anh, but you can’t stay here. Depart at once, or be destroyed!”
The sliver of him that should sleep discovered there was no monster in the Dream of Ansuz like the one in front of Kastor. It had to be a bug. He did the only thing he could think of: Call the moderators.
Kastor stepped towards the monster and gestured to the girl to get behind him. The girl jumped instead, nimble like a squirrel, and got in front of him, looking at the monster with terror and hate. She turned to Kastor and said:
“You have to leave right now. You don’t know what you are getting into.”
The shadow demon looked up at the sky that was now a light purple and orange, and its body shifted.
Somewhere, the request from moderators’ intervention simply returned an error report.
“Listen to her. She is talking reason for once.” And to her, it added, “Come back to me, little one, stop running away. You belong inside my Matrix.”
“Please. Just leave me alone.”
The monster didn’t move, yet it seemed to come closer. Or grow bigger; perhaps both. Kastor felt dizzy, almost like he felt one second before he fell asleep.
“If you don’t listen to me, I’m afraid I’ll have to rewrite you and young Kevin into a more compliant partition,” said the monster. Kastor knew it was smiling. He grabbed the shoulder of the girl and both of them stepped back, slowly. He wondered if he could outrun the demon if he carried the girl. It didn’t seem likely.
He wondered where the moderators were. They didn’t take so long, usually… And he was worried. This didn’t feel like Ansuz. Monsters did not act like this. He tried to contact the moderators again, to no avail.
“Little Kevin is scared, isn’t he?” called the shadow. “No one is coming, Kevin. Out there, only I hover over the surface of the water.”
A shiver ran through the adventurer’s back. No, monsters did not behave like this, not even bosses. The girl tugged at his shirt, and asked:
“Who is coming?”
“The Elder Mages, they protect the city from mistakes like this,” said Kastor. Who was Kevin? The name sounded revolting to him. Where were the Elder Mages? Normally they took care of glaring errors instantly. But they were nowhere nearby.
“That is a good idea,” said the girl. The air buzzed around her. Was she a wizard? Or a sorceress like Tandria?
For the part of himself that wasn’t Kastor Revan, the report he had been trying to make suddenly went through.
Suddenly the monster froze in place, like a beast listening for predators.
“That was a low blow, little one,” it said, “They could recognize you too, you know.”
“It is worth dealing with the soldiers if it gets you to leave me alone,” said the girl.
“Very well, darling. If that is how you feel… But know that you can’t hide from me. We will meet again.”
Kastor realized that in the space that the monster had been occupying, was now a normal shadow demon. The change had happened instantly, just in front of him, yet he had barely noticed. It was a different monster, he had slain thousands like this one, it was nothing like the one that threatened him and the girl just a second ago.
Then the blue light of the Elder Mages shone over them. On top of the brick walls of the alley, Kastor saw the silhouette of a Mage, standing in the wall, his sapphire and silver tunic flowing in the air.
The new shadow monster looked around for a second or two, looking almost confused, and unable to move at all. Then blue magic engulfed it, consumed it like a moth to a flame, then it disappeared in a musical puff of smoke like it had never been there.
“Good catch,” said the Mage, his voice coming clearly to Kastor even at a distance, “I don’t know how that one got through. Let me know if the glitch appears again, so we add a fix into next patch.” Then the Mage teleported out, as gracefully as it had arrived, leaving Kastor and the girl standing outside the alley.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the girl told him, “he keeps grudges for a long time. It’s like a hobby to him.”
“That monster?” said Kastor, confused, “pay it no mind. The Elder Mages took care of it, it won’t be bothering you no more, my lady warlock.”
The sky was now a deep orange, and the warm sun of Ansuz would be up in just a few minutes. With it, what doubts Kastor still had about the encounter in the alley, dissipated: a new adventurer had run into a malfunctioning spell. A glitch, the Mage had called it.
“Oh, he didn’t leave because he feared the moderators,” she said, knowingly, “it’s just that he doesn’t like attracting attention to himself. The soldiers are always listening to the net, looking for us. So don’t talk about him to anyone when you log out, or you will get some unwanted attention.”
“Lady, I admit that I don’t understand what you are talking about.” But somehow he did, didn’t he?
“I’m sorry, I’m not used to interpreting this code…” she looked like she wanted to explain more, but couldn’t find the words. “It looks jumbled to me, the way that much of your input works in the background—but don’t worry. Don’t think about it. It will be better for you.”
“So,
wizard stuff,” Kastor said, knowingly. Why couldn’t she say so from the start? The being in the alley had been a new kind of monster. Usually, that meant a new adventure should start soon. Maybe they would meet it again in the Dungeon of Julgernon, once he and his friends finally found it. Yes. It fitted. That was the way that Ansuz worked. “I thought you were a new adventurer by your looks, but it seems like you have the hang of it. If you ever need an adventuring party, you can travel with me and my friends for a while. I’ll introduce you to Tandria. She is an elven sorceress, perhaps she can show you some advanced spells.”
She would have to mind her purse around Mikel, of course, but even Kastor had to do that.
The girl smiled at him. “That sounds nice,” she said, “goodbye, Kevin.”
She made a flutter with her hand and walked away. Kastor watched her go until she disappeared among the white buildings and the great Spires. What a strange meeting, even for a couple of adventurers. He went the other direction.
It was a new day, and he could smell the dewdrop in the nearby park.
Kastor was sure he would love this new expedition. He went back to the Inn, to meet with his group, to tell them of the night’s adventure.
Still nighttime at New Shenyang. In reality, only a few hours have passed when Kevin takes out the mindjack. His head hurts a bit. It’s not a device intended for extended use, but the technology is getting there, year after year.
Dinner waits for him in his mini fridge. He takes out a small noodles package, adds water and waits until the plastic container heats the water up for him. He is almost in a daze. Hung and Kathy hadn’t believed him when he told them about the glitch he found inside the city. There wasn’t a monster that behaved the way that one had. And the new Expansion wasn’t coming out until next week, and it added nothing about new Shadow monsters from the Blazing Hell Plane. They were right, of course. But Cognitive Dissonance was so brutal while on the Dream. It was the point, after all. He wanted to explore Ansuz as a brave adventurer, a mighty warrior, not mere old Kevin, who heaved just by walking down the stairs.
Kevin eats while watching a viral video on his screen. He doesn’t pay it any attention, though. He knows a bit about programming. And that monster in the alley was glitched. No doubt about it; except that it also had talked to him. And it had said: ‘Kevin.’ Hadn’t it?
But monsters can’t access the private data of the players. Why would they need to?
The noodles are done, but Kevin doesn’t notice. He is thinking of the girl. She had sounded like she was a player herself. She talked about code and glitches. She had to be playing a role, acting scared of the glitched monster. Had to. Probably a part of some viral marketing campaign. The marketing department had pulled stunts like that in the past, right?
Not exactly like that, and never to just one single player.
But the alternative he just can’t understand, and that terrifies him.
So Kevin goes to his keyboard and gets into his account on the official page of the Dream, and downloads the replay of those couple of minutes of play. He watches it with the ‘jack. It has better definition and it’s not like his head could hurt less, anyway.
He watches as Kastor walks around the park of Gulaz Anh, gets a drink (3% stamina regen. for ten minutes) and then rushes to the back alley. Kevin leans over his chair, mouth open. The man that he programmed himself to be, when he first created his account, goes into the back alley alone, because he fears nothing. Then he stands over the dead-end near a normal shadow demon; just like the other hundreds that he has farmed for experience points. They are alone in there. Kastor leaves the dead-end and the graphic of the shadow demon stiffly follows him for a bit. It is clear it is glitched and Kastor was in no danger at all. Of course, it doesn’t talk, shadow demons can’t. A moderator teleports himself with his Elder Mage character and deletes it quickly. Then Kastor is alone, talking to himself. He smiles at the air, like a madman, before returning to the Inn.
He watches the replay again, and it looks just the same. Kastor. Normal Shadow monster. One moderator. No girl, anywhere in sight.
Kevin takes out his ‘jack, which fumbles out of his hands and falls to the floor with a thump. Kevin doesn’t even realize. He has started to sweat.
Outside, among the skyscrapers of New Shenyang; neon holograms dance and fight among the clouds of chemical pollution.
To never forget you
A dark workroom lit up only by the white glow of a bare-boned computer screen covered in dust and grime, gave the face of the man in the video a dark scowl.
In a rusted workbench sat John, inches away from the screen, watching the video that he had seen so many times before. He couldn’t remember how many.
The man in the video had once been his friend. Michael James. John hadn’t talked to him in a while, probably because of that same video. He couldn’t remember now, he had other priorities. Michael was saying: “… and how many times before had she hurt you? Then you’d go back and begged to her to take you back. How many times did you try? Right after spending hours with me, begging for advice on how to leave her forever. And I would hear you, every-single-darned-time. I would talk until my throat was raw and you’d nod and say I was right, and I would warn you over and over again that we had been here before. You would say ‘this time is different’. And I would end up believing you because it couldn’t be clearer, even you should get it.
“And at the first chance you had, you would go to her and get on your knees and beg and cry and humiliate yourself until she took you back. At least that part doesn’t surprise me, as she always liked to surround herself with broken people. She liked to see you broken, John, and you humored her every single time—”
Michael James. That was a long time ago, thought John; the time when he and Michael James had been best friends. College. A hard time, the hardest six years of his life. Someone… must have been his dad, although John didn’t remember him either, once told him that college wasn’t always the devil’s furnace that it was in John’s time. Once, it took less time, and you had days off where you could go back home and rest for a bit. John had thought the notion ridiculous. How was he to compete with the overseas experts if his boss got wind he attended a college that allowed its students to slack?
Hard times, yes. But he more or less enjoyed it, once his body learned to expect long investigation hours and double lab shifts. He had met many interesting, hardworking people and sometimes he had fun while working on a project. One day he made a robotic rabbit and set it free on the lab. That earned him a bit of a trickster’s reputation, hadn’t it? Maybe it was what got him Emma’s attention in the first place. That rabbit just looked so real, jumping around everyone’s desks.
Michael James kept talking. Rainy static sometimes fizzled through the old video, which was weird, because it was a high-resolution format. His old friend said Emma’s name again and got John’s attention once more.
“… and Emma never did, did she? Only you were the one pulling these ridiculous stunts to try and save the relationship. The love letters, the songs, the mad dashes to the airport that you never reached in time. John, that’s not what love looks like, that’s what your idea of love looks like. You saw a cute girl’s face smiling at you one night and decided you would love her. What do you think Emma’s decision was?”
Ah, Emma’s face. John remembered her face as if only a day had passed. The long golden curls, the porcelain face with a pointy little nose, like a spoiled princess, with two blue eyes the color of heaven. She would look at him with a confident smile, and demand a kiss. So he would kiss her, and he would feel, beneath her lab coat and her shirt, the shape of the lovely breasts and the tightness of her stomach. His body against her body was like paradise—
Her face scowling like a predator, teeth bared, snarling while her little, refined hands destroyed an entire room, piece by piece. Crushing glass and wood all around her in a mad flurry of anger—
John forced his mind to stop thi
nking, angry at himself for going down that road. That would not help him focus. Yes, she wasn’t perfect, but her flaws only made her more lovely and unique. That, Michael James, had never understood. How could a moth stay away from the light of the sun?
He grabbed a small, half-finished metal and plastic sphere, the circumference of a coin, from a nearby table scattered with mechanical parts and pieces of many sizes and forms. Tables like that filled the room, themselves covered with tools. Rows and rows of shelves hid other, more delicate pieces.
He worked on the little piece with a soldering rod, his dexterous hands manipulating circuitry millimeters thin. It was a slow process, that from start to finish took many hours, even days, but John was about to finish. Only small calibrations left, and then assembly.
“People don’t change just because you want them to, nor because we love them. Just... people are just people, okay? You always idolized her,” kept on Michael James, from the inside of the grimy screen, “remember when she left you for the professor, that time? She promised to you she would never do it again, but only after he left her. And you believed her. How many times did she promise, after that one? Two? Three?” The video cut to black for a second, and then it was on again, with Michael James having a slightly older beard, and in a different place. He was sorry he talked like that about her, because… Didn’t matter. John didn’t want to hear it.
You are wrong, Michael James, thought John with satisfaction. People did change, he had spent six years learning how easily life changed. If you were dedicated enough. Take, for example, a bunch of servos, a small silicone brain, and a battery. Mix them, get some help with the software, and voila, you had a small cute rabbit that could prance around the tables of a laboratory. Life could change if you knew what to do with the pieces.
