To the dwarf’s surprise, there was no impact. Clods of dirt rained down on his shield and the crack of cast spells rang in his ears. He lowered the shield just in time to see the ass end of a centaur gallop away. On the centaur’s back rode a desert elf, who fired an ice bolt from an enchanted bow over his shoulder. Thornbark90 and Thuglar had just saved him from certain death.
Mylos reeled and shrieked with animal rage. Red text above his head showed his hitpoints down to 90%. Kalmond stopped wasting time and used the miraculous save to down a health tonic and a berserker potion.
The world turned itself red as his oversized, dwarven heart hammered blood into his skull. Kalmond retrieved his axe and lunged at Mylos with an overhand strike. But Mylos recovered. He brought both hands up in an attempt to seize the axe with his powerful hands. The blade paused for a moment between the monster’s palms for a sickening moment before passing through and striking Mylos in the chest. The furious lunge caused 15% damage and gained Kalmond 100XP for a successful strike against such a powerful enemy.
The monster’s flesh split to the breast bone and black blood sprayed against Kalmond’s bare face. The axe handle grew slippery in his hands as he willed a backhand strike to follow up the first. The strike yielded another 5% damage, unheard of against Mylos. Were he not scared of dying, Kalmond would have bragged over chat already. The blade struck home again just as another ice bolt shattered across the Mylos’ forehead.
While the hits struck home, Kalmond knew it would take more than lucky damage to kill the most powerful NPC in the entire game. Mylos attacked again, a flaming ball of molten rock that only the miracle of a random number generator allowed Kalmond to dodge. Just as Kalmond was starting to curse the monster’s seemingly unlimited mana supply, Mylos came at Kalmond with a melee attack.
In an instant, Kalmond’s vision was filled with flailing tentacles. They lashed with stinging, stunning blows against shield, axe arm and torso. The only thing that was invulnerable to Mylos’ attack were the glowing red numbers representing his life force that quickly dropped to 30%. Kalmond thought he would die after all, when the wind picked up again. This time, it did not come from the Monster Mylos.
Both Thornbark and Thuglar summoned storm elementals. Mylos shrieked, but broke off his attack on Kalmond to deal with them. Kalmond used the opportunity to throw two daggers at the Monster’s back just to do what he could. Then he got to his feet and ran in the opposite direction. When Mylos was a safe distance away, Kalmond shouted, “Save progress. Set spawn point here.”
Chapter 8
“What the fuck?” Corey Barnes bellowed at his computer screen. While his character rode on a centaur’s back and fled for his life, his best gaming friend simply bailed out of an active fight.
Angry fingers rained down on the keyboard and a string of capital letters filled a new chat window. “DUDE, NOT COOL! WHY YOU BAIL! YOU BETTER HAVE A DAMN GOOD REASON!”
It took him a few seconds to calm down. He was so into the game, he forgot for a moment his gaming rig was set up in the spare room at his girlfriend’s house. He paused in fear for a moment as he checked himself. Morgan was at work. He’d seen her off an hour ago and then drove her daughter Christa to school. He breathed a sigh of relief as his heart slowed to normal speed. Not the first time he’d gotten a little too absorbed in a game, and he bet it wouldn’t be the last.
The game was getting weirder and weirder. He had been up all night chatting with distressed gamers and questing against random NPCs and out-of-place monsters that wandered around the Third Circle like refugees. He’d caught a few hours sleep beside Morgan, who didn’t wake up when he slipped into bed.
Corey knew she was upset with him by the few words she spared as she readied her daughter for school and herself for work. Corey was barely there at breakfast. He helped pull out the oatmeal and poptarts, and microwaved some bacon between compulsive looks at the R9C messaging app. Morgan had to snap at him to get his attention before asking him to drop off a very tired five-year-old.
As soon as he handed Christa off to her preschool teacher, he jumped back into his girlfriend’s car and headed back to the house. Just before he left, a strange message somehow pierced his privacy filters. A zero-day gamer by the name of ClopClop666 sent him game world coordinates, enough circs for fast-travel and the words “Save Kalmond. Hurry.”
Corey was bewildered, but not about to take a chance—not with his best friend’s virtual life hanging in the balance. He arrived at the plateau just in time to save Kalmond, relieved he hadn’t been just a few seconds later. The hours he’d spent leveling up his new character the night before paid off. But then, Dante just blinked out without a word.
Now that Corey had a chance to calm down, he realized how strangely Kalmond had moved during the fight. There were only a few dozen pre-programmed postures common to every character. Corey thought he had seen them all. Kalmond’s character seemed to display none of those postures. It was as if a live person was inside the mesh reacting to the combat instead of a pre-programmed set of physical responses.
“Oh shit,” Corey exclaimed. He had been looking at the screen for minutes before he realized Thornbark had slowed and seemed to head in a random direction.
“Thorn, are you afk?” Corey typed.
“No. Auto walk,” Thornbark replied.
Corey mashed a quick key combination and dismounted.
“Thanks for the ride,” he typed.
“If my clan saw that, they would shun me. We don’t let things ride us, that is for newbies.” Thornbark replied.
“Preciate it,” Corey replied.
A chat request came through from Thornbark, so Corey put on his headset and opened the voice app. Not surprisingly, Thornbark sounded very young.
“Mylos was weird,” Thornbark said.
“Yeah,” Corey replied.
“That’s it? ‘Yeah’ is all you have to say?”
“What you want me to say?” Corey answered, lack of sleep sharpening his tongue.
Corey wanted to say a lot more, but Thornbark was right. Things were strange, strange enough for Corey to think that talking on unencrypted chat might not be the best move. He reached under the desk for his backpack and rummaged around in it until he found his burner phone. In Corey’s world, both in-game and out, paranoia paid dividends.
Corey had confidence in this phone because he had one of the cleaner-looking, more reliable crackheads on the block pay cash for it down at the local big-box store. It took him a few minutes to load his encrypted messaging overlay, access his preferred anonymous relay VPNs and enter his R9C ghost credentials. It took him a bit longer to find one of Dante’s active ghosts.
“The Dr. is not in. Please leave a message,” came the auto-response that told Corey he found the right account.
“Hit me back on this ASAP,” was Corey’s simple message.
“Thank you for your message,” the auto responder replied. “The Dr. will get back to you as soon as is cyberly possible.
“Nerd,” Corey muttered as he turned off the phone and removed its battery. He made a mental note to check the phone again in an hour.
With a deep breath, he turned back to Thornbark. Corey felt he owed the gamer something. The centaur had earned major trust points and proved a valuable ally. “I’m looking into it,” Corey said. “That’s all I can tell you. You got my word I tell you what’s up when I find out. We can work something out.”
Thornbark paused for a few moments, “OK,” he said. Then, he added, “Don’t ice me out.”
“Naw,” Corey replied. “You done right by me. I take care of my friends. I gotta sign off.”
Thornbark’s reply was to sign off himself. His character froze, then disappeared without further words.
As if on queue, a buzzing issued from Corey’s backpack. It took him a few seconds to dig out yet another burner phone. The number on the tiny LCD flip phone screen was unfamiliar, but he had a decent idea who it might be.
“Shit
,” he said, flipping open the cover. “Go,” he said.
“Yo,” a voice identified itself with one syllable. It was Dank Mike, the self-styled leader of the North Avenue Crew.
“What up, Mike,” Corey said.
“You know what up. Where my shit at?”
A week ago, Corey had promised Mike a dozen more burner phones with encryption, two of which he just used, one to contact Dante, and another to talk to Mike himself. That made two short. Mike would not be happy.
“I got it,” Corey replied.
“All twelve?”
“Ten. Had to burn two. One to talk to you.”
“What about my other one?” Mike asked. Corey took note that Mike considered many things his that were not. That was how gangsters worked, especially crew leaders.
“Had to use it. Unavoidable,” Corey replied firmly.
Dank mike laughed his acid laugh that sent chills down Corey’s spine. “S’OK. I let you get me four more on the next run. That makes sixteen you get me next month.”
Corey suppressed an objection, and then a moan of despair.
“You ain’t gonna say OK to that?” Mike asked as if in possession of some psychic ability. “I pick up what you got from your girl house,” he added casually.
“No!” Corey barked before catching himself. “Not here…”
“I give you that one, too,” Mike said. “You know the deal. I let you operate outside the crew because you good. You took an oath and I let you slide on it a little bit. You work for the crew.”
Corey took a breath and tried to still his shaking hand. “I know, Mike. I’m grateful. Just not here. Please, Mike.”
“You ain’t ashamed of your friends, are you?”
“Course not,” Corey said, trying to sound convincing.
“I know you over there. Mutt-Man saw you this morning dropping off that kid.”
Corey’s cheeks prickled and burned. Mike had an extensive network of homeless junkies on his payroll and they formed an intelligence network. He used that network to great effect. The only question was why he chose to drive the point home. Mike was putting a lot of pressure on Corey for some reason Corey couldn’t fathom. He only knew that it wasn’t good. Someone pounded on the door.
“Motherfucker!” Corey exclaimed in spite of himself.
“What?” Mike said as Corey snapped the flip phone closed. He did not sound pleased.
Corey took the stairs two-at-a-time. He was angry enough to do something stupid and he didn’t care. Sure enough, when he pulled the door open, Dank Mike stood in the doorway, every tall, stoop-shouldered, lanky inch of him. When he moved to cross the threshold, Corey didn’t move.
“You can’t be here,” Corey said.
Dank Mike did not smile. “I know you ain’t talkin’ to me like that, little brother,” he said, reeking of the weed that gave him his nickname.
Corey backed down only slightly with his words, not his body.
“Please, Mike. I got a good thing going on here.”
“Yeah? You a family man now?” Mike asked, twisting his wide mouth into a sneer. Something in his eyes relented and he stood there in the doorway. “Run get my my shit then.”
Corey closed the door in his face, not caring if he offended Mike or not. He was on dangerous ground, but couldn’t make himself face Dank Mike a moment longer. As angry as he was at Mike, he was more so at himself for bringing this part of his life to Morgan’s house. Morgan, who believed in him and shared her life with him. That meant something more to him than the family he thought he had with Mike and his crew. Being part of a real family showed him that the North Avenue Crew was a big lie. It was all about Mike’s ego, nothing more.
Corey cursed mike roundly as he dumped the phones from his backpack and threw them into a plastic grocery bag. He almost forgot about the two burners he’d already used, but dug them out at the last minute. He stormed back down the stairs, opened the door and thrust the bag into Dank Mike’s hand.
“Alright,” Mike said. Corey was expecting something more. Mike was clearly pissed, but for once, didn’t play any head games. All he said was, “You get my phones by next week.” Then, he turned on his heel and walked back down the concrete steps of the duplex.
Corey looked around to check for nosey neighbors before he closed the door. He breathed a sigh of relief when he detected no prying eyes. Mike was gone, for now. He closed the door and headed back up the stairs. As he rounded the corner to turn down the little hallway to the spare room and his gaming rig, there came another knock at the door. Corey froze. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of a truck engine revving up as it moved down the street. A delivery?
When Corey opened the door, he found a small brown box. When he set it down on the kitchen table so that Morgan would see it when she got home, he saw that the package was addressed to him. The sender line of the label read ‘Plexcorp’.
“Something interesting, Dante?” Corey asked, picking up the box and shaking it. He carried it back up to his gaming rig.
Chapter 9
The first thing Dante registered was the pain. White-hot, blinding agony pierced his skull, almost disguising the aching throb in his muscles. He cracked an eye open.
“You alright there, buddy?” Martin’s blurry face hovered over him, then disappeared in a ring of bright light as Martin shined a penlight in his eye. Dante grunted and swatted the light away.
“Nope,” Martin said, placing his left hand firmly across Dante’s face and deftly prying his right eye open wider. “I need that eye, sorry.”
The light penetrated Dante’s optic nerve with the subtlety of an ice pick. He groaned and turned his head away, but only because Martin relented.
“Pupils normal. He’s light sensitive, though, which is weird,” Martin said. “He wasn’t out that long, but he was out deep.”
“Is he… damaged?” Najeel asked, voice uncharacteristically timid.
“Well, I don’t think he’s broken too badly. Bumped his head bad when he hit the floor, though. No obvious signs of concussion, but he should see a doctor. I’m only trained as a medic.” Martin sighed and his brows drew together. “I should have told you not to put that damn thing on. We had to hook you up to the monitors on the fly. You’re a dumbass, Dante. At least you gave us some solid data. This thing isn’t ready for prime time. It nearly put you in a coma.”
“Mylos,” Dante said, or tried to. He worked some moisture back into his mouth, unglued his tongue from the roof of it, and tried again. “Lord Mylos appeared. He… tried to kill me.”
The memory of their battle came back in a flash, sending Dante’s heart rate skyrocketing. It must have shown on his face.
“Easy there, just sit back. You’re not cleared yet.” Martin’s fingers wrapped around Dante’s arm, firmly but gently guiding him back down. He was on one of the work benches. He saw equipment strewn across the floor. Martin must have swept everything off the table to get him on the bench. Dante took note that it was not the main workbench Martin put him on. For that, he was grateful. It would take hours to set up the testing equipment again.
Najeel, seemingly satisfied by his cursory examination of Dante’s health, thumped back down into his chair, then scooted over to the desk. Back to his normal self, he tapped at his keyboard, seemingly oblivious to everything else in the room.
“Martin,” Dante said, reaching up to grab a muscular arm. “The game is freaking out. Something very strange is going on.”
“Kid,” Martin said, his usual insouciant expression replaced with grave concern, “you’re delirious. That device doesn’t seem safe right now.”
“But… the game, it—”
“That game is not about life and death,” Martin interrupted.
“That’s just it,” Dante replied. “I can’t explain it, but I felt something. It was like a real person somehow. The game feels alive.”
“Damn it,” Martin said, sitting down on a work stool. “It’s worse than I thought. The harness is
causing delusions. Look, Dante; we are on the bleeding edge of the bleeding edge here. There’s no telling what immersion tech is doing to your brain until we get more data. That’s part of the reason we were going slow with the prototype. We were carefully brain mapping sensory load with every new facet we added to the system, one bit at a time.”
“I didn’t realize that,” Dante said, chagrined.
“Yeah, because you’re too focused on the game itself. You’re damn good at what you do, spotting bugs and analyzing feedback code for anomalies, but you never really got the interface on the system level.”
“And now, Gideon has jumped ahead and integrated all the sensory nodes without all the testing information,” Dante said. The implications almost made him forget about his splitting head.
“I take that back. You do seem to get it now,” Martin replied.
***
Holly pantomimed banging her head against the desk and briefly considered following through. Running up against Plexcorp’s draconian security rules and dealing with the stone-voiced wall of former military security personnel that formed the company’s security division had Holly at the end of her wits. She had a lot of wits.
Vice President of Operations, Sally Cordina herself, had bumped Holly up into her absent supervisor’s spot because Holly always got the job done. But now, the company’s own rules prevented the team of electricians Holly put together from going down to the sub-sub-basement to install the new power mains.
Holly pushed back from her desk and stood up, blood pressure rising. Not only had she been thrust into a job several levels above her previous position, she now had to engineer a political solution in addition to the technical challenge of providing gobs more power to run lord-knew-what down in the super-secret basement level. Holly growled. She wondered if security would listen to her if she were a man. She backed away from that thought, recognizing it as counterproductive.
“You want to stonewall me?” Holly said to the empty room. “I know a stone breaker.” She dialed upstairs to Sally Cordina’s office.
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