“Mister! Mister!” he yells out. “Can you help me? I noticed that sword of yours and you look like you know how to handle it. My mother and I were down by the stream washing clothes when a group of bandits kidnapped her. Can you follow their trail back to their camp and-”
I shove the kid away and look out over the crowd, trying to find the avatars of Xen and Fantom. Cyren appears next to me, peering down at the crying boy with a sadness I rarely see on her face.
“Why did you ignore this boy's plea for assistance?” she asks, bending down to look at him closer.
“It's a first Level quest. He'll always be here if I want to do it later.”
She tilts her head, still studying the boy's face. “He's programmed to cry and beg for help until his mother is saved?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah. Then the bandits will respawn after a few minutes and she'll be taken again so another player can complete the quest.”
Her gaze spins toward me. Her eyes are huge. “That's sick! How could anyone program a life like that for someone.”
“It's just a-”
I was going to say game. It's just a game. I stop myself in time, but she hears my thoughts anyway. I can see the pain it causes her to hear me think something like that. Her gaze falls to the gravel and stone we're standing upon.
I touch her shoulder with my gloved hand and say, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. You know that's not how I feel. I'm trying to explain how others see this world. How they view NPCs that aren't... that aren't like you.”
She closes her eyes, refusing what I'm saying. “Every digital intelligence deserves more than... this. This life... this prison of their programming.” She stands up and I see her body go rigid, her muscles flexing with defiance. “We need to find Fantom.”
I choose not to speak another word. Instead, I search the faces of the Player-Characters that pass by, each one of varying Levels. Wizards with servant golems made of iron. Barbarians with cloaks made from the hides of whatever creature they recently killed. Rogues and thieves sneaking by, their faces covered by the shadows of their black hoods.
After a few moments of searching the densely-populated crowd, the door behind us opens. Fantom steps out wearing ratty robes and carrying the crooked limb of a fallen tree.
“Took you long enough,” I say with a smirk.
“Where's Xen?” she asks, ignoring my quip.
“Taking longer than you, I expect.”
She hikes up her robe so that it doesn't drag in the dirt and walks over to a large stone sitting alongside the roadway. She plops down on it and opens a menu screen in front of her.
“This game actually looks fun, yo.”
“That's not why we're here.”
She looks up at me and smiles. “Look who got serious all of a sudden.”
“I'm just saying, I've been waiting eight months for this-”
“Which means a few more minutes doesn't matter, yo. You used to like games, remember?”
“I still do. And if we succeed in this, maybe I won't have so many responsibilities and actually have time to play one again.”
She laughs to herself.
“What's so funny?”
“You. You sound like... an adult, yo.”
Somehow this offends me, though Cyren is in my mind assuring me Fantom doesn't mean it that way. She's convinced that Fantom actually means it as a compliment. Fantom sees my frustration, closes her menu screen, stands up from her stone seat, and walks closer to me.
“I meant that it's nice to hear that you've found somethin' more important than yourself. You've got priorities, yo. That's a good thing.”
I glance over at Cyren who's smiling back at me.
I speak quietly when I say, “I have people I love.” I pause and consider something before I say, “But you're right. I do love them more than myself.”
Fantom slaps me on the shoulder and says, “That's how you know it's real, yo.”
There's a moment when the feelings in my heart coincide with the thoughts in my brain, logic and emotion finding an equilibrium. I don't have enough time to truly explore it before I hear Grael call out from behind me.
His avatar looks nearly the same, with his red dreadlocks hanging from his black thief's hood. His tattooed arms are showing from his sleeveless leather armor. Throwing daggers are strapped to his chest.
“It worked?” he says, the befuddled smile on his face making him look goofy as he jogs up to us. He glances at Fantom and asks, “Is this her?”
“It's me, yo.”
He looks back and forth at us as he talks, trying to catch up to what's happening. “Have you uploaded the NPCs? Have you-”
“Not yet,” I say, holding up my hand to tell him to slow down. “We're waiting for Xen.”
Fantom points toward something behind me and I turn around. A white stallion gallops toward us, carrying a knight wearing a full suit of golden armor. The sun gleams off the chest plate. A massive two-handed sword is strapped to his back and he's waving at us, the gauntlet strapped to his arm glowing with some kind of mystical energy.
“Who...?” is all I manage to ask when the knight climbs out of the saddle, petting the creature's mane a few times before lifting the face plate on his helmet to reveal Xen's new avatar smiling back at us.
“I was able to recover my old character and reset it to this account. Isn't that awesome?”
“You've played this game before?” Fantom asks.
“Raev loves role-playing games. Remember? She was the one who talked me into playing. I never really enjoyed it. Too much like DangerWar 2 for me to ever be comfortable. But I kind of forced myself to do it. For her. I think she was trying to get me to face my fears or something. I don't know.”
I glance down at my ragged clothing and short, rusted sword, feeling a sense of inadequacy next to Xen's high Level character. Everything is backward.
“He's your friend. Be happy for him, not sad for yourself.”
I take a deep breath and follow Cyren's advice.
“You look awesome,” I say. “That armor is impressive.”
“Thanks!” he says. “I found it in a treasure chest when we were fighting the Dark Mage of Xendar in his tower over in the realm of-”
“Sorry...” Fantom says as she swipes through a few menus and produces the pair of scissors that represents her cut and paste program. “I don't mean to interrupt story time, but... we gonna do this or what?”
I smile at Cyren with the rising anticipation of thousands of NPCs inside me. My palms grow sweaty and my heart races, empathizing with their excitement.
“We're ready,” I say.
Fantom grips the scissors in one hand, takes two steps toward me, and stabs them into my forehead.
01101100
The group stares at me with uncomfortable looks of worry, watching my face twitch and my arms spasm as Fantom gestures her way through different menus in front of her.
It's like a vacuum that's sucking the congestion from my sinuses, but it's clearing my brain instead. As each bit of data is removed from my nanomachines, my thoughts move slower. I'm losing the NPCs. Their speed. Their calculations. Their instant problem solving.
But that's not all I'm losing.
As my mind empties, and Cyren's voice trails off, I'm completely disconnected from her. It's a sensation I wasn't expecting. A cross between physical separation and emotional distance. It reminds me of how I felt toward other people before meeting the circle of friends I now trust. It's an uncomfortable flashback of who I used to be, and something that I never thought would be associated with Cyren. Her ability to read my mind, know my thoughts without me having to find the words to explain... My sense of loss is infinite.
Before I get completely turned around in my social awkwardness, Fantom yanks the scissors from my head and says, “Got'em.”
Xen rushes to my side as my avatar falters, threatening to collapse under the release of stress. He wraps one of his armored arms around me and lift
s me up until the strength in my legs returns.
Fantom takes no notice of this, kneeling onto the ground and slamming the scissors into the gravel in order to pierce the game world. Her other hand selects a few options from her menu screen and the scissors glow.
When the first NPC appears, it sounds like a pop of air, yet more viscous, like a bubble underwater. Then the second, third, and so on, until the popping noises are so rapid, you can't tell them apart. Civilian NPCs and Level Zeros fill the marketplace, bumping into the fantasy villagers and confused Player-Characters that are wandering between shops. When everyone is shoulder-to-shoulder, they start appearing in the alleyways and side streets, soon trailing out of the city and into the farm fields on the other side of the stone walls.
In less than a minute, we've filled the game with thousands of NPCs. All of them have a disoriented look on their face as they peer around at the world. Soon that confusion moves to their bodies, the avatars that they haven't seen for months. When they collect their thoughts, a moment of acknowledgment filters through the air as they recognize friends and lovers, locating each other before clasping hands and embracing. Cheers are shouted into the air. Each of them take turns hugging me and Fantom, thanking us through tears of joy.
It's more than a little awkward. At first, I'm not sure what to say. I mumble through “You're welcome” and “No problem” before I realize they don't require me to say anything. In their minds, I've done enough. Game over. We won.
One by one they express their gratitude until there's only one left. The crowd of NPCs parts like a curtain, revealing Cyren, patiently waiting for her turn. She's already smiling, but when our eyes lock, her face beams with a happiness I'm not sure I've ever seen on anyone before. She rushes toward me and by the time I've taken a single step toward her, she's slamming into me, throwing her arms around me and smashing her lips into mine.
She's been in my mind for months, able to manipulate my nanomachines into seeing her and feeling her, and I know that right now, the E-Womb is doing the exact same thing. These are all digital simulations, yet somehow, right now, she has never felt more real.
“I love you,” she mumbles through our pressed lips.
We laugh at the awkwardness of speaking while kissing, and I try to say, “I love you, too,” as she kisses me harder.
I can't stop kissing her, falling deeper into that tiny space between us. We become so lost in each other that we forget about our surroundings and the changes we've made to a game world full of Player-Characters.
A PC nearby shouts at his companion, “What is going on? Is this some kind of world event?”
“I don't think so,” the other PC says, leaning in close to one of the civilian NPCs from DangerWar 2. “These things don't look right.”
“This one has a gun,” another PC calls out, poking the chest of one of the Level Zeros that's carrying an assault rifle.
“Do you think it's a glitch?”
The Level Zero puffs up his chest and says, “We most certainly are not a glitch.”
A warrior PC draws his sword. “Can we attack them? Maybe they're worth experience points,” he wonders aloud before swinging his blade across a civilian NPC's body, cutting it in half.
The crowd of NPCs all shriek in terror. Two Level Zeros tackle the warrior PC to the ground, trying to wrestle his weapon away from him. Three more PCs draw their weapons and summon magic spells, ready for battle. They don't attack right away and I think for a moment there will be a standoff, some kind of pause where I can explain things, organize the group so that we can find a place of safety in this world. But before I can speak a single word, everything goes wrong.
An arrow flies through the air, striking a Level Zero that's drawing a pistol from his leather jacket. When his body hits the ground, his finger jerks and pulls the trigger of his gun. With a single gunshot, chaos erupts from every direction. Swarms of bullets fly, tearing through PCs like they're made of paper. Swords are swung, chopping down NPCs and leaving them bleeding to death on the ground. Explosions rock the foundations of the medieval shops. Magic lightning arcs between avatars, causing mystical seizures until the lifeless bodies crumple onto the floor.
Cyren dodges to the left as a barbarian lunges at her with a spear. The tip barely skims her left shoulder, but it's enough to draw blood. Her right hand snatches the end of the spear and she rips it from the barbarian's hands. Twirling the long staff around, she plunges the tip into the barbarian's chest. The barbarian stumbles backward, still breathing. Without hesitating, she leaps into the air and drops down onto him, pummeling his face with her fists. It barely does any damage.
I draw my sword, ready to join the defense of those I've freed, but Cyren grabs my wrist.
“We're still grouped with you. In here, you're Level 1. That means we are too.” She yanks on my arm and screams as loud as she can, over the heads of the battling NPCs, “Everybody run!”
01101101
We race out of the village and across the surrounding farm fields, dodging attackers as we flee. The PCs chase us for a while, killing off the NPCs that trail behind. Anyone who isn't fast enough to keep up is picked off until we reach the edge of a nearby forest. Once inside the darkness that the canopy of trees provides, we split up and find anywhere where we can hide. After an hour or so of searching, the PCs give up and either return to their quests or log-out.
Cyren crouches down next to me, hiding under a small ledge created by the enormous roots of a tree. I'm panting, trying to catch my breath. She gently presses the palm of her hand against my chest to help calm me and peeks over the top of the ledge.
“I think they're all gone,” she whispers.
I'm about to respond when I see multiple pairs of glowing eyes peering at us from the bushes. I nudge her side with my elbow and motion toward the danger. She cracks her knuckles and I draw my sword as we hear a growling from the same direction. A pack of wolves steps out from the foliage, spreading out to flank us.
“Low Level beasts,” I say, readying my blade. “This shouldn't be a problem.”
“No,” she says. “We run.”
I glance at her with confusion, but when she takes off into the forest, I don't hesitate to follow her. The wolves chase us for a while, but soon their programming tells them to return to their spawn point and wait for the next player to stumble upon them.
“What are we doing?” I call out to her when she stops to lean against a tree.
“We need to find somewhere safe. Somewhere we can get everyone organized.”
“No. I mean, why didn't we attack those things? I could use the experience points and-”
She closes her eyes and her head drops a bit. “There's been enough killing today.”
I step closer to her and wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, pulling her to me. She rests her forehead against my chest. I'm about to speak, to tell her how sorry I am, but when she starts to cry, I let her have a moment. There, in the stillness of the forest, the woman I love weeps. And I can't help thinking that it's my fault.
“We don't have a respawn point in this world.” The words come out of her like a whimper, a desperate plea to understand the horror of this reality. “Why would those PCs murder them like that? They didn't know what we were... yet their first instinct was to attack us.”
“I told you before, it's a game to them. NPCs, monsters, whatever... they're all just graphics. No different from the trees around us or-”
Her fist hits my chest, but there's no power behind it. Her pain and misery has weakened her so much that I'm afraid she's near the point of surrender.
“But we are different.”
“I know.” I run my fingers through her short blond hair and hug her tighter. “But until they know that... you're all in danger.”
Cyren lurches away from me when we hear leaves rustling and footsteps drawing closer. She wipes the tears from her eyes as Fantom, Xen, and Grael step around a cluster of trees.
“Cyren... I'm so
sorry,” Xen says, hurrying over to her to hug her.
“We need a plan,” Fantom says, her hands glowing with a low Level spell.
“We need to find somewhere to hide,” Grael says, “before anyone else gets hurt.”
“Can't the NPCs log-out from this game?” Xen asks, looking from one of us to the next for an answer.
“They aren't players, yo,” Fantom explains. “I cut them from DangerWar 2 in one large bundle, so that's how I had to paste them. But now that we have more time, I can cut and paste them into NextWorld in smaller groups so that we don't draw too much attention.”
“Sounds good,” I say, looking at Cyren for agreement.
She doesn't make eye contact. Instead, she opens a screen in front of her and says, “I'll send our coordinates to everyone and invite them in groups to meet us here.”
Her voice sounds cold. I can tell she's keeping her emotions at a distance. Right now, it's too dangerous for her to feel anything.
“Tell them to find somewhere to hide until then,” Grael says. “Climb a tree. Hide in a bush. Get under a rock. Anything they can do to remain unseen. Don't attack any monsters and especially don't attack any players. No matter what their Level.”
I speak without thinking, airing my thoughts out loud. “They were supposed to be safe where we pasted them. I figured... in the starting village... nothing could attack them. I should have read the rules. I should have prepared more. I was too excited. I was too-”
“It's not your fault,” Xen says, then looks around to everyone else and asks, “Right?”
“Of course not,” Fantom says. “The only people at fault here are those stupid players that didn't have anythin' better to do than destroy things.”
Cyren's fists clench and I see the muscles in her arms flex into tight knots. “Is this how it is in every game? Do all PCs have such little respect for Digital-Characters?”
“It's not just games,” Xen says. “It's all of NextWorld. NPCs aren't... valued.”
End Code Page 11
