by Harper North
Once we’re minutes away from the chaos and the ICC attack, Coco_Dream pauses to catch her breath.
“You’re just as good in real life as you are in The Binding,” I say. “Thank you for coming for us.” I’m ready to explode with questions. Yes, I told Coco_Dream about my situation with Atlas and Sector 14, but I find it amazing that she found us without help from the technology that I still carry in my pocket. Traveling requires credits and she doesn’t have the masking that TheBigGuy provided for me.
“Thanks,” she says. “I’ve practiced. Now that my avatar has been annihilated, there’s not much else to do for now. Follow me. I think you’ll find this interesting.”
Morrow looks at me in confusion. “What’s going on? Who is she?”
“We can trust her,” I say.
“I almost trusted General Willis at one point,” Morrow says.
“This is different,” I whisper, following Coco_Dream. “So, what’s your real-life name?”
“Coco. Easy to remember, isn’t it?”
It is. I’m glad to see her alive and away from the ICC. We follow her in silence. Two more gray ICC shuttles float overhead, heading toward the factory and Sector 14. Coco doesn’t speak. I take it as a cue that we shouldn’t talk until we’re completely safe.
At last, after we walk for another half hour, Coco stops at a pair of rusty, closed doors that lead into another factory. She opens them and steps into darkness. A bunch of battery-powered lanterns line a walkway, as if she’s expected to return with us. My heart races as Coco leads us through one more set of double doors.
Something feels familiar about this.
Coco pushes the doors open and light pours out from more lanterns. There’s a long table inside and three people: a male guard with another gun, a blond woman I recognize as Nan, and a man in a suit who waits with a smug expression that I’ve seen before.
“What—?” I start.
The man nods. “Raven. Step in. We have some catching up to do. Are you sure you don’t want to work for me? And bring your friend too.”
I can’t believe it. It’s TheBigGuy.
CHAPTER 13
I LOOK FROM Coco to TheBigGuy and then to the male guard who’s standing there, not raising his weapon at me and Morrow. Nan nods to me. Coco keeps her expression neutral as if she’s waiting for something. Then I search around me for any signs of a trap. The room appears to have no cameras hanging in the corners like the ICC offices do. It’s carpeted like an ICC office, though. But, unlike the ones I’ve seen on Mera, this carpet has been worn under the pressure of hundreds of feet.
“You look shocked,” TheBigGuy says. I know that’s not his real-life name, but I don’t know what else to call him at this point.
“What’s going on?” Morrow asks. He looks back to the double doors we came through. They’re unlocked and one is just swinging shut. I see no locks, either. TheBigGuy hasn’t shut us in and he hasn’t hired guards to keep us here. That alone calms my nerves.
“This is someone I met in the game,” I tell Morrow, keeping my voice low. “Well, two someones. Coco over here joined my cluster. TheBigGuy made a deal to get me to Earth in exchange for finding him Rare Artifacts.”
“Whoa,” Morrow says. “This is too much at once. The first part is understandable, but I thought Merans were about pride? This guy isn’t even that overweight.”
“Hey,” TheBigGuy says, patting his stomach and then folding his hands on the table in that smug ICC executive fashion. “I work out.”
“He didn’t mean anything bad by it,” I tell TheBigGuy. “He doesn’t know your real-life name, so I’m using your in-game one.” I speak for Morrow’s benefit more than his.
“Are we about to die again?” Morrow asks. He keeps his shoulders raised.
I face Coco first and then TheBigGuy, searching for any body language clues. She’s been very helpful and a good friend, but she could have warned us about this situation first to ease our confusion. Or maybe that’s just me. Deception is frowned upon on Mera.
And why do I think of this now? I’ve deceived my whole cluster which nearly wiped them out by the Master Admin.
“We need to know what’s going on here. I demand it,” I say. Letting TheBigGuy push me around isn’t going to turn out well for us. His game is money and profit. Business. I need to act the part.
Morrow looks at me and then to TheBigGuy, who leans back in his leather chair. It’s ripped and just as old as the rest of this factory office. “Raven, Raven,” he says. “I’ve been operating The Binding’s black market for years, selling Rare Artifacts at markup prices to those who can afford them and gain a leg up in the game. It’s an elegant system. Players bring me Rare Artifacts and weapons, I pay them, I mark up the price, and then I resell. My black market underlings pay me a kickback from their earnings, only a small percentage. Still, it’s been a very lucrative business, operating The Binding’s secret market. But it’s also been a way to discover new talent such as yourselves.”
I’ve known that TheBigGuy was one of the biggest sellers in the game, but the founder of the black market? “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Marcus Renton,” he says, raising and extending a hand to me. I hesitate, not sure what it means.
Morrow comes to the rescue. “He wants you to shake his hand. It’s an Earth thing.”
I do as Morrow says. Marcus has a tight grip as if he wants to own whoever he shakes hands with. He’s an ICC executive. Morrow and I will need to be careful.
“Please, sit,” he says. “We have a lot to discuss and I think the two of you will find it interesting. I’m assuming this is Atlas_Reign?” He nods to Morrow.
Morrow grips the back of his chair, jaw dropping. “How do you know about us?”
“I’ll explain,” Marcus says in a business meeting tone and I cringe. It takes me back to dull conversation after dull conversation at the ICC. We all sit, but Coco and the guard remain standing, keeping watch. Neither glare at us. They seem to be here to protect us from anything that might come in from outside. I am used to guards being our enemies, not our friends.
“Doesn’t the ICC hate that you run a black market?” I ask.
“You’re making the game pay to win,” Morrow says with disapproval. “Even the ICC doesn’t want The Binding to be like that.”
“But you pay to play, and that’s what keeps them rich,” Marcus says. “Isn’t it good to have options? Another source of income? Some of my top sellers have been able to walk away from the ICC completely and live comfortable lives out here in the Outskirts. I offer what The Binding claims to but doesn’t deliver. Don’t you agree?” Marcus looks right at me.
“Agreed,” I say, because I’m not sure if saying anything else is a good idea. Marcus is still deep in the ICC. “What do you do at the ICC, anyway?”
“That’s a good question,” Morrow adds.
“I’m head of The Binding Sales Department,” he says. “They have me responsible for keeping people hooked on the game. Speaking of the game, I’ve been studying it for a long time and, over that period, I’ve developed a vision for The Binding. The Binding 2.0, in fact.”
“Two-point-oh?” Morrow echoes. “You’re developing a new version of the game?”
“And people like you can help make it happen,” Marcus says. He straightens up in his chair. “Imagine a Binding where the ICC isn’t involved. Where players no longer have to pay the corporation that keeps them enslaved just so they can escape their servitude for a few hours. This new iteration will allow free trade, opportunity and, of course, loads of fun. And talented players such as yourselves can help make this a reality.”
His words hang over the table, heavy and enticing. “For a price, I assume?” I ask.
“Well, I have to make money,” Marcus says. “Players are already accustomed to paying to log into The Binding. They’re used to paying a certain price for the product. Once they hear that there’s a new version to explore with features they’ve never seen,
people will flock to it. There will be a large market space to fill once the game’s current version ends. And it looks as if the current version is in danger.” He lets that last sentence hang.
“You’ve heard about the Sector 14 plan to destroy The Binding?” Morrow asks.
“The ICC has heard rumors, and so have I,” Marcus says. “It’s the reason Sector 14 headquarters was attacked. I was hoping they would shut down the game, but—”
“No, you don’t,” I say, leaning across the table. “If General Willis and her minions had her way, there would be no players left for you to make money from. She was going to force them to log off in a way that would destroy their minds.”
Marcus’ jaw falls. It’s clear he didn’t know that part of the plan. “Oh,” he says. “Well, that changes the plan a bit, so I’ll have to change my marketing strategy. I was hoping to leave players with no choice but to move to The Binding 2.0—”
“You wanted a monopoly,” I say.
Coco nods behind him. Even she agrees.
“Now that’s a harsh word,” he says. “Destroying my market would have been the unfortunate consequence if Sector 14 succeeded in ending The Binding. But, if players remained and were left unharmed, someone would have needed to fill the gaping hole.”
Morrow and I exchange a look. Marcus is all but admitting his nature, but so far, he hasn’t tried to kill or blackmail us. Yet.
“And you want us to help test The Binding 2.0,” Morrow says before I can. We’re thinking the same. “Why else are you looking for talented players?”
“You’re sharp,” Marcus says. “Yes. I have been monitoring the two of you for a little while now. When I heard about Raven crossing The Binding to the Earth side of the game, I knew she might be interesting. And then word spread through the black market about a player named Atlas_Reign who helped her retrieve her Digital Transfer Credit back from a rogue cluster. And then the two players in question survived an encounter with a Master Admin. And most of all, Atlas here won The Hermit, a feat that very few players have ever accomplished.”
Morrow rises from his chair, palms splaying on the table. “You’ve been watching us for that long?”
“Backend access to the game,” Marcus says with a nod. He folds his hands again and turns his gaze to Morrow’s chair, silently ordering him to sit. “I have the system programmed to give me alerts when a player crosses The Binding or wins a Rare Artifact.”
It makes sense but it’s no less unnerving. I blush as I wonder if Marcus knows about The Hermit’s lack of tact or the fact that he told me that Atlas wanted to marry me. This is awful.
“Once I had that info,” Marcus continues, “I sent my talented player Coco to see the two of you in person. Data can only tell me so much about a player. I needed a firsthand account. But, by the time she found you Raven, your friend here had already left the game and I presume he was captured by Sector 14. His data then delivered all the information I needed to know: he had logged in through an off-grid Immersion Box with Gen_W.”
Morrow looks at me and lifts an eyebrow. We’re thinking the same again. The Hermit was supposed to shield us from the ICC. Well, the Master Admins. Perhaps Marcus has hacked his way into data that they don’t normally see. He has better access than most, then.
“I placed a little bit of code in the system to guide The Hermit to me,” Marcus continues. “And when you obtained those two Rare Artifacts, I knew I needed to recruit you for my master plan. And here we are . . .”
So, The Hermit isn’t all-knowing. He can be deceived just like everyone else. I eye Coco as a tight feeling fills my chest. She’s supposed to be a good friend and, for a while, I thought that she was. But instead, she deceived me and pretended she knew nothing about TheBigGuy. If anything, I would have expected Lucky_Champ to be the one working for him behind the scenes, but he’s busy kissing the ICC’s backside. The main ICC, that is.
Coco has led me to a divergent branch. Her and Nan.
I send her a glare. In response, she casts her gaze to the floor. It’s a very shameful way to run a friendship. Nan maintains a neutral look. She’s all business.
“Coco, look at me,” I say. “You should have told me about this.”
“Raven, I want to help you,” she says.
“My real-life name is Tyisa,” I say, standing from my seat.
“We’re friends. I believe in you,” Coco tells me. “I brought you into this to help get you out of the mess you’re in. Marcus told me about it and I couldn’t stand aside and let the ICC destroy you.”
She sounds genuine and it cools the anger inside. But before I can ask her why she couldn’t have just told me, Morrow speaks.
“What, exactly, is this plan of yours?”
Marcus leans back, making the old chair squeak. “Right now, my team has developed a framework for a beta sandbox version of The Binding 2.0,” he says. “However, as it stands right now, this incomplete game version is vulnerable to outside manipulation. The ICC is aware of my version and has taken control of the servers to prevent release. They can’t destroy the network, but they can hamper 2.0 from reaching the citizens of both planets. My network has grown too large for the main ICC to shut it down. Still, I haven’t been able to hack past the server block.”
“It sounds like a few leaders on Mera who used to prevent citizens of some nations from accessing the global network,” I say. “It happened a few years ago. Is it like that?” I turn my attention away from Coco. I’ll talk to her later. There’s a mission here. I don’t trust Marcus, but I see no other way to move forward.
“Are you up for testing the beta and leveling up to top player status?” Marcus asks.
A gleam fills Morrow’s eyes. “This isn’t an ICC trap?” He leans forward.
“If I was going to hand you over to the ICC, I would have let them take you from Sector 14,” Marcus says.
He has a point. “And what will leveling up accomplish against the ICC?” I ask.
“Because,” Marcus says, “it is the only way to reach an exclusive planet only open to top level players. The game world of The Binding 2.0 consists of many star systems and will take years to fully complete. This exclusive planet, found at the center of the galaxy, isn’t yet complete and won’t be for years. There are holes in the coding there that the ICC have tried to infiltrate, but it may offer you a chance to go through and break their hold on the network.”
“Why can’t you go in and fight the ICC?” Morrow asks.
“Our proprietary code requires a certain player level to get on and off this planet,” Marcus says. “That same code is the only reason the ICC hasn’t been able to leave the planet. They’re contained there. But from there, the two of you might be able to infiltrate the main ICC due to all the holes and the links they provide to their servers. They must have a vulnerable opening somewhere that none of us have been able to access.”
I look at Morrow to gauge his response. Marcus isn’t the type of player to level up. We are.
“And The Hermit?” I ask.
“He plays a vital role in this,” Renton says. “If anyone will be able to detect a hole in the ICC’s defenses once you reach the final planet, it will be an evolving AI. Perhaps he can infiltrate and liberate all the servers the ICC controls for my new Binding, including the ones already controlling the game you know. Being based off the original Binding, 2.0 should be familiar to The Hermit.”
Morrow gulps. “That wasn’t the original plan.”
“The Hermit wanted to take over the head Admin,” I say. There’s no speaking to him until I find a way to log back in. “Will The Hermit stay with us when we explore this new game version?”
“We will preserve your current player levels and inventory,” Marcus says. “It is tracked by the player’s DNA and will be a selling point of this new version. Players don’t lose their progress, though their journey stays the same.”
“Good,” Morrow says. “Still, I don’t like this.”
I lower m
y voice to a whisper. “I don’t see another reasonable option yet.”
We let my words hang between us. Morrow and I want nothing more than to kick the ICC out of The Binding, whether it’s the version we know or this new one. If we can do both, we’ll deliver a critical hit.
“If you need time to think, I’ll offer you shelter at my Sector 15 outpost,” Marcus says. “This is a lot, I know.”
Morrow shrugs. “Our only other option is to join the ICC barbecue, so why not?”
We follow Marcus Renton through the Outskirts while Coco, Nan, and the male guard follow from behind. It makes me uneasy, walking past all these broken-down factories while beside a man in an expensive suit. He’s begging to get robbed, but Renton walks with confidence. I notice that the symbols painted on the walls of the crumbling buildings are different than those that Sector 14 uses. We’ve entered a new part of the Outskirts.
Meanwhile, the smoke from the Sector 14 headquarters has turned to a weak plume far behind us. We’ve put a lot of distance between us and the raid.
“Now, I know this doesn’t look like much,” Marcus says, stopping at a pair of rusty double doors. “But I think it will suit you while you decide.”
“You’re so humble,” Nan says. It’s the first time she’s spoken on this walk.
The inside of this new factory isn’t humble. Marcus has stuck to his character here. After a short hallway that doesn’t promise anything, he opens another set of doors to a lounge with skin furniture, colored lamps, paintings on the walls of Binding characters in Titanium Armor, and posters of scantily-clad women everywhere. Cabinets hold bottles of golden-colored drinks—likely the mind-altering type Atlas told me about—and computers sit everywhere, ready for use. In the far corner of the massive room sits a single Immersion Box.
