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by Phoenix Ward

  King Hum beamed at the performance, offering his own loud applause. He turned to gauge his guests’ reactions.

  “What did you think?” he asked.

  “I liked it,” Ethan said. “A nice little fable.”

  “A very old one, as well,” Orram said. He turned to his plate and speared a bite with his fork.

  “I dunno,” Tera said. “I thought it was a little on-the-nose. It’s about bodyshells, isn’t it?”

  King Hum smiled, picking at a bit of his own meal. “I can see how you’d think that, but it’s older than your kind,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” Tera asked. “To me, it seemed written with the sole mission of discrediting installed intelligences. By saying that we’re ‘daemons’.”

  “I’m sorry you see it that way,” King Hum replied. “After all, it is just a fable.”

  “I thought it was cute,” Reverend Nidus said, leaning back into his chair. “Though, if it were accurate, it would have been revealed that the daemon really was the snail’s soul. Just in a different form. Those animals essentially banished their own friend, just because they didn’t recognize him.”

  “No, that’s not how the story goes,” King Hum said, a little agitated. “The daemon was a trickster and a fraud.”

  “In your version, perhaps,” Nidus replied. “Though if I had written it, it would have ended differently.”

  “With all due respect,” Orram said, a little sarcastically, “you didn’t write it.”

  “No,” Nidus said. “But I still have the chance to write a different story. If you’ll excuse me.” He pushed his chair back as he stood up.

  No one said a word to try and stop his departure, and he offered nothing more as a farewell.

  28

  The Decision

  Ethan stirred a little, sensing a presence outside the cloth door. His intuition proved correct when he heard Adviser Orram call to them.

  “Ms. Alvarez! Mr. Myler! Are you awake?” the old man asked. His voice had a certain deaf quality to it.

  Tera didn’t bother coming to the door. “What is it, Orram?” she shouted back.

  The cloth door fluttered a little as the adviser peeked inside. Ethan closed his eyes instinctively as a bit of sunlight hit them.

  “The king would like to speak with you,” Orram answered. “If you have the time, come to the palace. He’s come to a decision.”

  When they entered through the massive doors, Ethan and Tera found the throne room devoid of life. At least, organic life. Reverend Nidus waited off to the side of the king’s desk, surrounded by an entourage of zealots. Neither the monarch nor his trusted adviser were anywhere to be seen.

  Nidus turned to look at the newcomers, his hood wrinkling with the turn of his head. Even though his features were all artificial, they were capable of an intense look of disdain.

  “Oh,” the cult leader said, “it’s you.”

  “Nidus,” Tera greeted the other bodyshell. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same thing you are,” Nidus replied. “Waiting for the good king to grace us with his judgment.”

  “Any idea when that will be?” Ethan asked.

  The cult leader shrugged, then turned back his followers. He whispered something to them, and all they gave him their attention.

  It wasn’t long before the huge doors opened again, revealing King Hum, Adviser Orram, and a small group of Opesian guards. They marched into the room without so much as a nod in greeting. The young monarch took a seat at his desk and waited for his adviser to join him at his side before looking his guests in the eyes.

  “Greetings,” he said. “I am pleased that you took the time to meet with me today.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” Ethan said, offering the polite bow he had come to know as the standard Opesian sign of respect. Tera emulated the action, but Nidus and his zealots remained still.

  “I have given a considerable amount of thought to your issues,” King Hum said. “I am sorry to say that Opes can offer none of you any assistance.”

  Tera and Ethan’s faces fell into identical looks of shock. Orram gazed at them with a grim, almost apologetic expression.

  “I don’t understand,” Ethan said, a bit of indignation in his tone. “Don’t you understand what they’re doing in Shell City?”

  “Of course I do,” the young king replied. “I still cannot help. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re abandoning thousands of other humans to the mercy of the Council,” Ethan said. A droplet of tears started filling up his vision. “Millions, even! All of them with spirits that aren’t ready to meet God yet, your grace.”

  “I understand,” King Hum said, “but I have to think of my people. The needs of Opes come first. That’s what it means to be a ruler.”

  “It won’t stop with Shell City, your grace,” Tera interjected. “If you don’t help us defeat the Council in Shell City, they’ll be coming to your door next. We’re all in this together.”

  “That’s conjecture,” King Hum replied. “I cannot and will not move my armies to war on such a hypothetical. My decision is final.”

  Ethan was a little red in the face, but managed to keep his mouth shut. Tera hung her head.

  King Hum turned to Reverend Nidus, whose posture tensed up at the sudden attention.

  “As for you and your cult, you are ordered to leave the kingdom before sundown tomorrow,” the monarch said. His voice didn’t waver as he orated. “My people and I will respect your group’s right to exist, but you are not welcome in Opes. You seem incapable of keeping your religion to yourself and showing us the respect due any host. For that reason, I must ask you to leave.”

  Nidus scoffed. “Your grace, doesn’t that seem like a hasty decision?” he asked. “Surely you aren’t threatened by my preachings? If your mysticism is so sound, it should stand against the influence of a mad preacher, should it not?”

  “Little insults like that influenced my verdict,” King Hum replied, sneering at the cult leader. “Now I will hear no more from you. You are all dismissed.”

  Nidus shook with rage. He raised a mechanical fist, waving it at the young monarch. “This is an outrage!” he bellowed. “I will not stand for this kind of treatment! You will come to regret your decision, young king.”

  He made a flourish with his cloak as he turned to leave the throne room. Without another word, the other two guests followed in Nidus’ wake.

  29

  Determination

  Orram led Ethan and Tera to the small plot of land that had been their autocar’s home for the last few days. There was little to talk about as they made their way out from the main part of Opes. Some of the villagers wished them well as they walked by, and the newcomers gave a bow in turn. Even though they left in defeat, both of them couldn’t help but feel a little sad to go. They came to respect the Opesian people, even if they found their ways a little backwards at times.

  The old adviser seemed the most distraught about their departure. That’s why he took it upon himself to escort them back to their vehicle, even though they could have found it just fine on their own.

  “I’m sorry your visit couldn’t have been more fruitful,” Orram said once they were close enough to open the autocar’s door. “I hope it doesn’t affect your opinion of our people.”

  “Not at all, Orram,” Tera said. “We may not have gotten what we set out for, but it was hardly a wasted experience. Being in your kingdom will end up being one of my most cherished memories — second only to beating the Council, if we manage that.”

  The old adviser nodded. “Don’t feel afraid to come again, should the opportunity arise,” he said.

  “And if the king changes his mind,” Ethan started, “let us know.”

  “I’ll be the first one calling, should that happen,” Orram said. “Don’t count on it, though. The young king is firm about his decisions. He doesn’t make them lightly. If he chose to deny your request, there must be a bigger reason than we are capable of s
eeing. It’s why God chose him to lead. I have nothing but faith in his instincts.”

  “I wish we could say the same,” Ethan said. “Only time will tell.”

  “Indeed,” Orram replied. He offered a warm smile. “Farewell, friends. I wish you luck against the Council. We will certainly celebrate your victory the day it comes.”

  “Thanks, Orram,” Tera replied.

  They climbed into the autocar and secured themselves in the seats. Both the I.I. and the human teenager looked out the window and stared at the Holy Kingdom of Opes for a moment before starting the vehicle up. Orram waved to them, joined by a couple of villagers who came to see the autocar fly away. Ethan gave a feeble wave back, but he was sure they couldn’t see him. With a simple command to the autocar’s main computer, they took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

  “That could have gone better,” Ethan commented after they were airborne for a few minutes. He rubbed his eyes as he spoke, realizing for the first time how tired he was. He had slept worse than he had thought during their stay.

  “It could have gone worse, too,” Tera replied. “If King Hum was any dumber, we could have had a conflict on our hands.”

  “He’s not dumb at all,” said Ethan. “He’s just looking out for his people — he’s wrong, but he thinks he’s right. There’s nothing we can do about that.”

  “If only he could see it all firsthand. I thought for sure he’d be convinced by the recording of the lobotomy. Maybe he just has to see the horror for himself,” Tera said.

  Ethan thought for a moment. “We did our best, Tera,” he said. “Maybe he’ll come round, but we can’t worry about that now. We need to focus on getting help from the other tribes out there. One of them is bound to join us.”

  “Maybe.”

  They flew in silence for what felt like hours. According to the computer, they were about half of the way back to Shell City. It would be dark when they returned, which should help conceal their entry into the geothermal system.

  “Do you miss it?” Tera asked after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

  Her question caught Ethan off guard. He cocked an eyebrow at her in confusion.

  “The simulation, I mean.,” she said. “You said it was perfect. Do you wish you were back there now?”

  Ethan sighed a little, then looked out of the window at the vast expanse of dirt that rolled below them.

  “I dunno,” he replied. “It kind of feels like I was woken from a really good dream, one I was really enjoying. And even though I realize it’s not real, I get angry that it was taken away from me. I hate that I was lied to, if only because I wish the lie were true.”

  Tera looked over at him with a plain expression. “We’ll make Councilman Harring and his pals pay, don’t worry,” she said.

  “I know,” the human replied. “I just hate the waiting.”

  Tera nodded, then caught a flicker in the corner of her vision. She turned her mechanical head to the autocar’s main console; the lights behind the controls were going on and off.

  Ethan took notice as well, cocking his eyebrow at the display. “What’s that?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Tera said, her voice distant as she tried to figure out what caused the flickering. “Could be an electrical issue. Not sure where I’d start looking if I were to fix it.”

  With a sudden whoosh, the low hum of the engine died, and they were left with only the sound of the wind rushing against the vehicle’s hull. The flickering controls stopped and the cabin went dark.

  “What’s going on?” Ethan asked, panic in his tone.

  “I don’t know!” Tera yelled back. “I think the engine died.”

  “Why?”

  Tera didn’t reply. Instead, she sat in the pilot’s seat and buckled herself in. She reached under the main console of the vehicle and pulled some sort of release lever. Like a mouse trap had been set off, a steering control popped out of the dashboard. Tera seized the device and tried to take manual control of the autocar. Ethan tried to find his way back to the passenger seat, but the autocar started to fall out of the sky and he lost his balance. He was tossed around like a rag doll as the nose of the vehicle pointed straight down.

  “Brace yourself!” the I.I. said, trying to pull the control upward and bring the car out of its dive.

  Ethan did his best to obey, but could do little more than clutch onto the back of the passenger seat for dear life.

  The ground grew larger and larger on the windshield until they were engulfed by a shriek of metal and dirt. Everything went black.

  30

  Homecoming

  Sharpe and Taylor stared down at their friend as his senses started to return to him. Ethan blinked and looked up, his mind taking a moment to catch up with the rest of his body.

  “Hey, he’s coming back!” Taylor said with an excited expression. Sharpe had an expectant look in his eyes as he waited for Ethan to say something.

  “What — what’s going on?” Ethan asked. His voice was drowsy; it was clear he wasn’t fully awake yet.

  Once he realized who he was speaking to, Ethan bolted upright and looked around. Brow furrowed, he gazed around the basement of Sharpe’s home base, trying to discern where Tera and the autocar went.

  “Oh, man, he’s all disoriented,” Taylor said.

  “Must have been some immersive shit,” Sharpe commented.

  “Where am I?” Ethan inquired.

  “The basement,” Sharpe replied. “Right where you left us.”

  “No,” Ethan said in a trance-like tone. “No, no. That isn’t right. I left through the Last Stand map.”

  Sharpe and Taylor looked at each other.

  “I dunno what you’re talking about, but it sounds cool,” Sharpe said, smiling. “I wanna give it a try now, but I’m nervous!”

  “Don’t be a pansy,” Taylor said to their host. “I’ll do it right now. Look at Ethan’s face; that’s gotta be some adventure to make a look like that.”

  Ethan grew frustrated that his friends were ignoring him. “Dammit! What’s going on?” he asked. “Where the hell is Tera? Why am I back in the simulation?”

  Sharpe and Taylor looked at each other again, confused. There was a hopeless expression on their faces, like they didn’t know how to answer Ethan’s questions. Or, rather, like he had asked them in another language.

  “Who’s Tera?” Sharpe asked.

  “Was she your girlfriend in the new adventure?” Taylor asked with a tone of teasing.

  “New adventure?” Ethan asked. “Shut the fuck up and explain what’s going on!”

  Sharpe started to laugh as Taylor shook her head.

  “I don’t think we can do both,” she replied, chuckling.

  “You know what I mean!”

  “You really don’t remember?” Sharpe asked.

  “I remember Tera, and leaving the kingdom of Opes, and talking in the autocar — ”

  “Ah, yeah,” Sharpe started. “That must have all been part of the narrative. I gotta say, I’m impressed. I knew you’d be immersed, but not ‘where-the-hell-am-I’ immersed.”

  “Narrative?” Ethan echoed. He was getting tired of asking them to elaborate; he wished they would just spit it out.

  “Ethan, you’ve been inside a new simulation adventure the guys at Replication Systems cooked up,” Taylor explained. “It’s called The Rebels of Shell City — supposed to be an action-cyberpunk experience. You’ve been playing it for a couple hours now.”

  “A couple hours?” Ethan repeated. “No. I was out there for over a month. Out in the real world.”

  “No, Ethan,” Sharpe said. “It’s only been a couple hours. Jesus, is it really a month long in there? That’s incredible.”

  “It wasn’t a simulation!” Ethan argued. “I was out there in the world. The real world. Not the one they’ve told us is waiting for us. Everything they’ve told us is a lie. There aren’t colonies on other planets or a utopia for all people. In fact — do you even
know what they’re doing to us?”

  “No! No spoilers!” Sharpe shouted, putting his hands over his ears like an unruly child. He turned away and squeezed his eyes shut. Ethan looked at him with bewildered eyes.

  Taylor put a hand on Sharpe’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sharpe,” she said. “The storyline is different for everyone, at least a little bit. Ethan can’t spoil it for you. Sounds like he had a hell of a time, though.”

  Ethan shook his head. “If I’ve just been playing an adventure, why can’t I remember that?” he asked.

  Sharpe shrugged. Taylor, realizing she was the only one with any info, said, “It’s a new set of coding Replication Systems designed to really immerse you in the adventure. They make you forget you’re even playing an adventure or that you signed up to do so. It tries to transition the first adventure with your real life as seamlessly as possible. That’s why you can’t remember when you started playing; the transition was perfect.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Ethan said, trying to push away from his friends. He put his fingers to his temples like his head was going to explode and he’d be able to hold it together. “None of this makes any sense to me. If I’ve been playing an adventure, then what happened on my nineteenth birthday? What happened on the Last Stand map?”

  Taylor and Sharpe shared a confused glance for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. Ethan was growing so frustrated by the situation that he wanted to reach out and smack his friends each time they looked at each other like that. He wanted to shake them and demand they start making sense.

  “What are you talking about?” Sharpe asked. His brow was still cocked in confusion.

  “Ethan, our nineteenth birthday isn’t for another week,” Taylor said. “We’re still just making plans.”

  31