Level Zero

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  The countdown reaches the last few seconds, and I ready myself for the forced log out. Then, just as the timer reaches the final second, I swear I hear screaming. Not the sound of one person screaming, or even a large group, but the sound of millions of people screaming all at once. It hits me with a crushing force, but before my ears can register the noise, DangerWar 2 evaporates, shattering into a billion pixels like one giant avatar that just suffered a head shot.

  001111

  My eyes flutter open, and I'm looking at the inside of my E-Womb. I try to sit up slowly, but the hunger in my stomach wrenches me forward, twisting itself into knots before pushing vomit up through my throat. I spit out clear streams of liquid.

  The bottom of the sphere is full of a cold liquid. I urinated hours ago and never felt it inside NextWorld. The nanomachines don't block the feeling, so I must have been so enthralled with the action that I didn't even notice. I can't say it didn't cross my mind that it was far past time to relieve myself, but I didn't want to care. I want one of the new E-wombs so badly. Then I wouldn't have to care.

  The real world is just so messy.

  I force my arms to pull me from the sphere in my wall, and I hobble toward the mirror. I insert my finger into the scanner. Seconds later the dispenser opens, and I snatch the tube of vitapaste from the opening. I unscrew the cap and squeeze an entire mouthful of the goo between my lips. My gums mash it around for a few seconds before I swallow. I almost choke on the amount I'm trying to force down my throat. As soon as it's down, I'm squeezing more into my body. I empty the tube in three large mouthfuls, then jam my finger back into the machine. I need to fill up on as much as I can stomach so that I can last in the game world for as long as possible.

  The second tube goes down slower. I take the time in between squeezes to glance up at the screen above the sink. The message icon is flashing, with a number four next to it. Three messages from my father. One message from Fantom. I select Fantom's first.

  A video message enlarges onto the screen. Her avatar is standing outside the gates of DangerWar. The crowd of people has mostly dispersed, with only a few fanatics still camping out. She waves at the virtual camera and smiles.

  “Just wanted to say like, thanks for your help or whatever. I don't think I got a chance to like, do that before I logged out. I think we should try to find someone else to join our group though. The stronger we can become, the like, higher Level quests we can complete. The more players that like, start questing, the harder it's going to be to like, find the lower Level stuff. We need to jump ahead, yo. Anyway, I have some like, homework I should do. If you're on this afternoon, I'll find you or whatever. Get some sleep, yo.”

  The video-message window shrinks back into the envelope icon on the screen. The disappearance sends a feeling through me that I'm not comfortable with. I'm not used to it. It's so foreign to me, that I don't recognize it. I'm not used to the attention. I'm not used to spending so much time with someone else. I've spent hours upon hours inside DangerWar, but my socialization was restricted to killing other players. There was no talking or cooperation. There was no helping anyone or saving anyone, and I never received a “thank you” for any of my actions.

  I consider reading my dad's messages, but I know what they'll say. More guilt trips and requests for real world meetings. I delete them without opening them.

  I grab a towel from my closet and soak up all the moisture from the E-womb. When it feels dry, I toss the towel into the automated washer and sit down on my bed. I only mean to take a small rest, but before I know it, my eyelids are feeling heavy. My head droops, my neck unable to lift it any longer.

  I jerk awake, but now I'm laying down. I can see artificial daylight drifting through the metal shutters on my window, and I wonder how long I've been asleep. I feel panic as I rub my eyes and try to focus on the screen above my sink. The clock in the corner reads 14:17, and my heart sinks. I've wasted too much time. Fantom could already be playing, filling her treasure chest full of Koins without me.

  I rush to the E-Womb, but before I crawl in, I decide to be smart about it. I use the toilet and let the vitapaste dispenser scan my finger. I choke down three tubes of the goo as fast as I can. My heart is racing. I need to make up for lost time. With remnants of vitapaste still hanging from the corner of my mouth, I crawl through the doorway into the sphere of my E-womb. The door seals shut, and the inside lights up. I rub my arms, letting them get used to the warmth again, and then I settle into a comfortable position.

  “Log on.”

  My vision goes black, but soon enough I'm appearing in front of the DangerWar gate. The crowds of people have gathered again, and I see a few players doing interviews with newscasters. They're seeking fame when they should be playing. No one will care about them in a few months when the game goes public. People will still care about me. My avatar will be at the top of the scoreboard, with a head start that no one will catch up to. Then I remember the Level 72 player that killed me in my first few moments of playing.

  Grael.

  I shake the sinking feeling. I'll beat him. At that Level, the Koins you need to reach the next Level must be astronomical. I'll catch up to him eventually. I just need to dedicate myself.

  I check my inventory, see my DangerWar 2 beta key still inside, and then step through the door. My avatar reappears right where I was kicked out from the reboot, looking out over the city from the rooftop of the equipment store. I climb back down to the street. I notice right away that my jeep is gone, which doesn't surprise me, but I also notice that the lamp post has been repaired. It looks as if nothing has touched it. The system reboot set everything back to the default settings. I check the quest log and see that everything we completed has been reset as well. Every NPC killed is alive again.

  I reenter the shop and open the holographic screen so that I can spend some of my loot. My Koins are spilling over from my treasure chest. I purchase a few armor upgrades, like always, but this time I purchase another damage upgrade for both of my guns. I also purchase a pair of telescopic goggles that hang around my neck, only because I figure they must be more useful than their bargain price would lead me to believe. By the time I'm done, my Koin account is nearly empty.

  I step out from the equipment shop and back into the game world. An alert pops up in front of me, letting me know that I'm receiving a direct message from a group member. I touch the icon, and I hear Fantom's voice in my ear.

  “Glad you like, finally decided to show up or whatever.”

  “I was... taking a nap.”

  “The real world finally came knocking?”

  “I guess.”

  “Don't sweat it, yo. We all have to like, answer the door at some point.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “The map says you're outside an equipment shop.”

  “The map never lies.”

  “Good. We're on our way, yo.”

  “We? I was only gone for a few hours and you already replaced me?”

  “Stop whining. We've got a new party member or whatever.”

  I cringe. I don't really want to meet anyone new, let alone play with them, but I know that Fantom is right. We need to take on harder quests. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm pretty sure I can trust her judgment. I mean, she chose to group with me, right?

  I stand next to the doorway for nearly ten minutes, bored and considering messaging Fantom again to see what's taking them so long. As I'm opening a message window to do so, I hear the sound of tires as they struggle to hold onto the corner. I look down the street and spot a blood red sports car rolling toward me. I step behind a parked car on the street and ready my guns, but as the car draws closer, I can see the highlighted outlines of party members sitting in the front seats. The car comes to a stop right in front of the equipment shop and both doors flip open.

  I see Fantom get out of the driver's side, and a very young boy steps out of the passenger side. He's wearing very regular clothes for his age. A backwards baseball c
ap, baggy shorts, and a t-shirt with some kind of animated video-cast character on it. But as I holster my guns and walk toward him, I can see his skin is made of wood, like his body is a marionette without any strings. I've seen similar fairytale avatars in DotKid. They were expensive, and I always assumed the kids using them were spoiled by their rich parents.

  “Arkade,” Fantom says, “I'd like you to meet Ekko.”

  The wooden boy runs up to me, holding out his hand for me to shake, but his avatar is shifting around. His entire image looks shaky and jittery. He blinks out of sight, then he's suddenly behind me.

  “Sorry,” he says bashfully. “I don't have the best connection. My tower is in Asia. Old Mongolia.”

  “He has lag,” Fantom says offhandedly, “but we like, need another player or whatever. And he's the same Level as us, yo.”

  “Lag? He's barely staying connected,” I say, looking at the kid like he smells funny. “My friend Xen could catch up to us in a few hours. We don't need this little kid.”

  “Hey,” the kid says, about to poke his hand into my chest, but his avatar shudders and he's suddenly standing two feet to the left. He re-calibrates his view and says, “I'm not a little kid.”

  His voice is high-pitched, but his accent is the exact opposite of Fantom. It's dripping with the Old Chinese emphasis on words and lacking any slang.

  His image shakes again. As it jitters back and forth, I slice my hand straight through his chest.

  “Look at this. It's ridiculous. I'm not putting my life in the hands of some kid who breaks in and out of the game at random.”

  “He's been doing fine, yo,” Fantom says. “We've been questing for like, hours or whatever.”

  “It really doesn't bother me,” Ekko says with a chipper attitude. “I barely notice.”

  “Good for you,” I say, walking away from him, “but I notice. And I don't like it.”

  Fantom shrugs her shoulders, spits on the ground, and says, “Fine. You don't need to come with us, yo.” Then she looks at Ekko and says, “Come on. Let's get moving. We need to like, find more group members before we take on the Titans. And we need to like, buy some upgrades with all these Koins we've been making, yo.”

  She walks back toward the sports car. The kid looks back at me with a panicked look on his face, and then chases after her.

  “Fantom, wait. Hold on.”

  “What?” she snaps, as she opens the driver side door.

  “Listen,” the boy says in a hushed tone, but I can still hear him. He's glancing over at me from the corner of his eyes as he says, “You said he was one of the best players you've seen so far.”

  “Yeah,” she says, looking right at me, “one of. There are like, other players, and they are like, probably better players. This cowboy isn't anything special, yo. He doesn't get to act like that.”

  “Great,” I yell out, my anger cutting through my teeth. “Good luck finding someone else! You know, I thought you were smart, but you're choosing this kid over me? I guess I overestimated you, Fantom.”

  She doesn't respond. She doesn't even look at me. She slams her car door shut, stepping on the gas pedal to express herself with the sounds of the engine. Ekko begs me with his eyes, but when I don't respond, he drags his wooden feet, making his way around the car toward the passenger side. Fantom hesitates with a few more pushes of the gas pedal. I think she's waiting to see if I change my mind. I cross my arms, unmoving.

  The tires spin on the pavement, and the car launches right at me. I have to jump to the side so that I don't get hit, and I watch the car disappear down the street. The announcer's voice ricochets in my ear.

  “Fantom and Ekko have left the group.”

  010000

  Now I remember what I hate about trying to play with other people. There's always some emotions that get in the way or some labyrinthine social structure that I don't understand. I always end up offending someone or saying the wrong thing, and then I have to waste all my time apologizing and trying to make them feel better. Instead of playing the game. I'm not sad. I'm not even angry. All I have to do is remind myself that this means I get to keep all the Koins to myself. No more sharing. And then all I have to do is ignore the fact that I'm back to playing low Level quests.

  I spend the next five hours grinding through the easy stuff, taking the few Koins I'm awarded and moving on to the next quest. My treasure chest slowly fills, but not quickly enough. I start taking risks in the fourth hour, completing quests that are a Level or two higher than me. I'm careful, patient, and methodical. Even so, I manage to get myself killed a couple of times, thrown back outside the DangerWar gates, but I only lose a small amount of Koins as a penalty. In the end, my skills win out, and I start jumping Levels at a faster rate. By the eighth hour, I'm Level 20, and I'm not missing Fantom or her new group member. I remember how sharp I become when I'm alone, without distractions. There's no such thing as greed or selfishness when I'm the only one I need to worry about.

  At the top of my ninth hour inside of DangerWar 2, I'm slaughtering a werewolf motorcycle gang. I'm standing in the center of a parking lot, and the pack is swarming around me, their bikes roaring with a kind of throaty burp as they circle me. They're all quite bulky looking, hair sprouting from underneath their leather jackets. The bikers lash out with whip-like chains attached to their belts. At the end of the chain hangs a softball-sized metal sphere covered in hooks and spikes. The chain is short, but when they throw it, it magically gains links, extending toward me, then retracting back. Lucky for me, none of them have struck me. Yet.

  I keep dodging and firing, stepping left and right, ducking the crude weapons. I'm trying to read their pattern of attack. It feels random at first, but I know there's no such thing in programming. The pattern might be lengthy, and it's possible that it's too long for me to remember, but I doubt it. The main problem is, every time I think I might be getting close to understanding it, I manage a lucky shot and kill one of the bikers, which changes the pattern.

  I give up on my strategy and make a run for the hole in the circle that was left by the biker I just dropped. I scoop up his handlebars and upright the bike as the gang swoops around for another pass. I duck a chain and jump down onto the kick start lever. The cycle roars to life perfectly (no engine degradation in a virtual game world) and I pull back on the throttle as another spiked ball comes flying through the air. This one barely misses the back of my head, but my acceleration pulls me out of the way.

  I bring the combat out onto the road, and the bikers follow me. I've shot enough of them to make them determined to kill me, and no amount of fleeing is going to deter them, which is exactly what I was counting on. They keep up with me, actually gaining on me once we hit a straightaway. This is what they were designed for, so their driving skills don't surprise me. My advantage comes from the fact that at these speeds, they can't keep throwing their chains at me. They try, but not only does the momentum not work for them, their aim is worse while they're dodging between the other vehicles on the road.

  I keep my right hand on the throttle, and with my left hand I slide one of my pistols out of its holster. I set the gun in my lap and watch the gang in my rear-view mirror. I try to gauge their formation and speed. When their bikes separate enough from each other, I clench both hands, squeezing the brakes and melting my tires into the street. The bikers go flying past, unready for the sudden stop. As soon as they do, I pull back on the throttle again and launch after them.

  I grab the pistol from my lap and fire, sinking three bullets into the back of a wolf-man's leather jacket. He goes spinning out of control and smashes into oncoming traffic. The other three slow down, swinging their chains now that they have an advantageous momentum. They toss the spiked balls at me, but I swerve the bike back and forth, letting the chains slide past my head, only missing me by inches. I pull the trigger again and manage a head shot. The werewolf slumps forward on his bike. It veers right and plows into a building.

  The other two bikers g
et annoyed with my placement and slow their bikes down even more, trying to get next to me. We all keep swerving in between traffic, still moving faster than the speed limit. The bikers are forced apart by two city dump trucks that are driving side-by-side. I slide between the two huge vehicles and yank out my other pistol, holding both weapons out to the sides. As I come out from between the trucks, the bikers try to converge on me, but as soon as they see the guns pointed at them, the shock on their hairy faces is unmistakeable. I pull both triggers, and the bikers are knocked from their cycles. The dump trucks bounce a little as they run over their hairy bodies.

  I slide both guns into my holsters and grab onto the handlebars as the announcer awards me my Koins. Then I turn onto a side street and point my cycle back toward the equipment shop. The streets are full of players. It's the prime time for gaming, and everyone who has a beta key is playing. Thankfully, the players have figured out that quest combat is the way to go in this game, so no one acts aggressive toward me in the slightest. I roll through the streets, watching armed players running down sidewalks or driving past me in armored trucks, all on their way to different quests. The virtual wind is blowing in my face, cool and refreshing.

  I'm exactly where I want to be.

  I arrive at the equipment shop a little before midnight, and when I get inside, I kick back in front of the holographic screen, taking my time as I peruse each menu. I have enough Koins to splurge, so I really enjoy myself. The silence inside the equipment shop is a welcome contrast to the gunfire I've been listening to. I let myself relax for the first time all day, swiping through screens for almost two hours. When I finally select “Confirm Purchase,” I hear the announcer's voice in my ear.

  “Group member Xen has entered the game.”