by Jason Segel
“We don’t want your stuff!” he shouts as one of the drones swoops down for a close-up of him.
We’re nearing the grounds of the fourth mansion, and I’m finally beginning to understand the paranoia. Two armies of NPCs are at war on the grounds. One group seems to be invading while the other desperately tries to fend off the attack. What was once lawn is now a muddy battlefield. The little grass left is red with blood. Several booby traps have been sprung, and I see invaders who’ve been immobilized by nets, riddled with arrows and impaled by spears. As I watch, two NPCs disappear into a hole in the lawn. I don’t know for sure what’s in the hole, but it wouldn’t be much of a trap without a few spikes at the bottom.
We move on quickly while the battle continues to rage. We don’t get far before we spot a roadblock up ahead, outside the next mansion.
“Now do you see why I needed to carry the weapons?” I hear Carole whisper.
I know what she’s saying, and she’s right. Any visible weapons would probably be confiscated. But I’d still feel a lot better if I had my dagger handy.
As we draw closer, it becomes clear that the figures manning the roadblock are all identical NPCs. The mansion’s owner definitely has a type—tall, dark and bland. They stand shoulder to shoulder in a line that stretches across the street. There’s no way around them.
“Relinquish your weapons,” one of the clones demands.
“I don’t have any,” I tell them. Thankfully, Gorog and I have a fully armed guardian angel watching over us.
“And you?” the clone asks Gorog.
Gorog looks at me and I shrug. He should have let Carole hold on to his slingshot. The ogre pulls the weapon out of his waistband and reluctantly tosses it to the ground. Two of the other men step forward and frisk us.
“That’s it?” the clone asks, clearly surprised. “You survived the canyon with a slingshot?”
“We’re really fast runners,” I tell him.
Gorog nods. “As soon as we’re out of here, we’re trying out for the US Olympic team,” he adds.
The clone doesn’t blink. “Come with me,” he says humorlessly. We’re forced to leave the road to the temple. They surround us and we’re marched through the gates that encircle the mansion and then across its broad lawn.
I gotta say, the security here is truly exemplary. You can’t really tell from the street, but the place is a fortress. The mansion itself is a stucco-covered monstrosity that looks like the embassy of the world’s tackiest country. As we near the building, I see that the windows are barricaded with metal grates and the balconies are all adorned with razor wire. Several snipers are stationed on the roof, and a defensive wall made of sandbags surrounds the entire house. Whoever lives here doesn’t seem all that fond of visitors. My chest is starting to feel a bit tight, but I know I’d be feeling a hell of a lot worse right now if Carole weren’t right behind me.
The mansion’s doors open when we reach the porch, and I’m once again taken by surprise. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this is definitely not it. The interior is decorated in a style I’d call Baltic dictator. A forest of black marble columns topped with golden ornament holds up the ceiling. The floor tiles are a high-gloss leopard print, and the black ceiling is studded with tiny lights that form what I’d guess are astrological signs. But there’s no art on the walls or furniture to sit on. Mounds of black garbage bags are lined up along the perimeter, as if the mansion’s inhabitants just went nuts with spring cleaning.
“Hey there!” says a woman, and I spin around. Again—not what I was expecting. The avatar is your typical twentysomething Alpha female. Olive-skinned, with a long brown ponytail. Toned, but not too burly. Nice set of knockers. I would have expected the house’s occupant to be all blinged out, but if anything, her appearance is tastefully understated. She’s wearing what looks like a black yoga outfit and a pair of diamond studs in her ears. “I’m Gina.”
“Hi,” Gorog replies a little too enthusiastically. He should know better than to get all hot and bothered by an avatar. There’s probably some hairy-handed forty-year-old pervert behind it.
“So you guys have joined forces, have you?” Gina asks. “Most of the people in Mammon prefer to play solo. I guess we’re not the sort who like to share.” The word play echoes in my head. If she knows she’s in a game, she’s probably wearing a headset.
“We’re not here to play,” I tell her. “We’re just passing through.”
Gina laughs. “Passing through? I’ve never heard that before.” She gives us the once-over and rubs her hands together eagerly. “What have you brought me?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, we didn’t realize you were having us over,” I say. “If we’d known, we would have purchased a hostess gift on our way to the party.”
“Hilarious!” the woman says. “It’s so good to hear a joke. As much fun as these NPCs can be, it’s nice to have a human around sometimes. Can you both open your mouths for me, please?”
“Excuse me?” I ask. I seriously didn’t think anything could surprise me anymore.
“Your mouths?” She gestures to her servants, and two of them step forward and wrench our jaws apart. The woman takes a look and shakes her head. The servants let us go.
“What was that about?” Gorog’s no longer in love.
“You’d never guess how many people trick out their avatars with fancy dental work,” she says. “I have a small fortune in grills.” She gestures to the guard. “Show them.”
The NPC picks up one of the black plastic bags and holds it open in front of us. Inside is a collection of gold and diamond-studded tooth-shaped jewelry. It makes me wonder what might be inside the other bags.
“You steal people’s teeth?” Gorog asks.
“Every little bit counts,” she says, then turns to one of the NPC servants. “What weapons did our visitors have on them?”
“Only this,” says the guard. He passes her the confiscated slingshot.
She examines it thoughtfully. “You made it through the canyon with a slingshot? How impressive! It took me a hundred weapons and almost a week of constant play to work my way through the caves.”
“You used to be one of the cliff dwellers?” Gorog asks in astonishment.
“Clean up pretty nice, don’t I?” says the woman.
“Does that mean you ate people?” Gorog asks, managing to look both curious and queasy. “What did they taste like?”
“Taste like? How the hell would I know? It’s a game, dickweed,” the woman responds testily. She seems offended by Gorog’s squeamishness.
I’m actually glad Gorog brought up the subject of cannibalism. Gina’s response confirms my suspicions. If her taste buds aren’t working, she’s not part of the disk’s beta test. Somewhere in the United States (possibly Canada), a person wearing a headset is controlling her, and only a few of that person’s senses are engaged. I guess cannibalism isn’t quite as bad if you don’t have to taste or smell what you’re eating.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Gina is saying, “I’m kicking some serious ass here in Otherworld. I’ve got twenty-four kills and over three billion dollars in gems, weapons and other assorted goods.”
“Oh, we’ve noticed,” I assure her. “You’re obviously good at this. So why are you still here in Mammon?”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I guess it just doesn’t seem like much fun to me. Do you enjoy stockpiling weapons and stealing teeth? Isn’t Otherworld all about living the life you always wanted? Why spend your time in a place where everyone’s afraid all the time?”
“Well, it’s a lot better than Everglades City. Spend too much time outside where I live and you’ll die of heatstroke or get eaten by gators.” So the person behind Gina is in Florida. Good to know. Only two thousand people were given access to the Otherworld headset app. There can’t be more than one of them in Everglades City. “Besides, I’m having a blast. I figure in a couple more weeks I’ll reach the golden temple.�
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“And then what?” I ask.
“And then I’ll win!”
“Win what?” I ask.
The question clearly annoys her. I don’t think she knows. “The game! Look, I’m getting sick of this conversation. I always forget how stupid people can be.” She turns to the NPCs. “Take them out of here. And make sure you get the invisible one, too.”
“Invisible one?” I ask, managing to play it somewhat cool even though I’m freaking the hell out.
“Do you think I made it this far by being stupid?” the woman sneers. “There’s no way you got through the canyon with a goddamn slingshot.”
Gina’s NPCs have already found Carole and pulled down her hood. All of our weapons and tools are taken away and thrown into a black plastic bag. Then Carole is stripped down to her chinos, and Gina takes the invisibility cloak.
“Cute outfit,” she tells Carole. “Is there a minigolf course somewhere in Otherworld?”
“Yeah, why don’t you join me there after you get out of your yoga class,” Carole says snippily.
Gina practically busts a gut. “You are all so funny!” Then she holds the cloak up under my nose. “Think no one wins this game? This right here is my ticket to glory.” She turns to her men. “Get them out of here.”
The NPCs grab us and I have to play my last card. Gina isn’t a digital freak like one of the Children. She’s a human being. An appeal to her better nature may be the only thing that can save us now.
The soldier behind me has me in a choke hold, but I still manage to force a few words out. “Hold on. Don’t kill us,” I gurgle. “There’s something you should know.”
Gina lifts a finger, and the pressure on my windpipe eases.
“We’re testing a new device for the Company. If we die in Otherworld, there’s a good chance it will kill us in real life.”
“What?” Gorog blurts out. Shit. I forgot. We still haven’t shared the news with him. “Simon? What are you talking about?”
Gina’s quiet for a moment; then she calls out to her men, “Bring them back.” She eyes me closely. “Explain what you mean,” she orders.
“I’m serious—we could die,” I say. “The three of us don’t have VR headsets. We’re wearing disks that communicate directly with our brains. They let us experience Otherworld with all five senses. But when something bad happens to our avatars, the disks tell our brains that the injuries are real. I think if our avatars get hurt badly enough, we might die in the real world.”
I hear Gorog whimper. Carole whispers something to console him.
“Then it’s a good thing I was never planning to kill you,” Gina says.
“You weren’t?” I ask.
“No, I’m going to sell you. One of my neighbors developed a taste for human flesh while he was making his way through the canyon. I always wondered how he managed to taste it. I guess he’s wearing one of those disk thingies, too. Explains why he pays me top dollar whenever I bag one of you.”
“And you’re still going ahead with that after everything he just told you?” Carole asks.
“Of course,” says the woman. “There won’t be any blood on my hands. Though I have a feeling there may end up being quite a lot on my neighbor’s.”
Gina’s NPCs locked us inside some kind of holding cell. The chamber is so small that there’s barely room to move. Gorog’s body is radiating heat. I can see beads of sweat forming on Carole’s forehead, but for some reason I’m freezing cold.
“I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” the ogre whines. Gorog’s having a hard time coping with the news that his trip to Otherworld could prove fatal.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I’m sorry.” I’d try to comfort him if there were anything I could say, but there’s no silver lining to the cloud hovering over us.
“Come on. Let’s focus on the present,” Carole says. “What are we going to do now?” She still seems pretty certain that we’ll find a way out of this mess. I wish I shared her confidence.
“I have no idea,” I admit. “I’m trying to come up with something.”
“Why are your teeth chattering?” Carole asks. “It’s a hundred degrees in here.”
I just shrug. I don’t know the answer to that question, either.
“Well, we’d better come up with something soon,” Carole says. “It’s almost suppertime.”
“Shut up!” Gorog bellows. Then his voice softens into a whine. “I don’t want to think about getting eaten. I got hit by nine arrows back in the canyon, and it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. Can you imagine what it’s going to feel like to get chopped up or roasted on a spit or—”
“Stop panicking!” I order. “We’re not going to…” I can’t finish the sentence. Something is happening to me. Something I’m helpless to stop. It’s like Gorog and Carole have been ripped away from me, and suddenly I’m surrounded by pitch dark. It’s incredibly cold and I feel a frigid breeze sweep across my skin. My heart is thumping and my arms instinctively shoot out in front of me and slice through the air, as if to fend off some invisible threat. But I know what’s happening. The Clay Man said he’d find a way to get me into the facility. Now he’s making good on his promise—and I wish I’d never asked. He’s just dragged me out of Otherworld at the worst moment possible. With the disk off, I’m safe, and that’s all he cares about. He doesn’t give a damn about Gorog and Carole. But I do, and I’m not going anywhere unless I can guarantee their safety.
Hazy and disoriented, I shove a hand into the pocket of my jeans. The phone I stole from my mother is still there. I pull it out, switch on the flashlight app, and aim the beam into every shadow around me. There’s no one there. But there was. That’s for sure. My visor and disk were placed at a safe distance so my thrashing wouldn’t destroy them. They’re sitting on top of a canvas bag I didn’t bring. Next to the bag is a package of Depends.
I could chase the person who left them, but I don’t. Remarkably, my mother hasn’t shut off the phone’s service, and I think I just figured out how to save my friends. So I type out a text to Elvis.
there’s someone in Everglades City FL playing Otherworld. can u pull the plug?
He’s writing. I’m dying.
you mean Gina?
The kid never ceases to amaze me.
HTF do you know?
her last Otherworld playthrough got 1.5MM views
can u get her out of the game?
can’t hack the app but can prob take down her Internet
how long?
5 min
you sure?
FO
text me when you’re done
ok maybe this time you’ll thank me?
FO
It suddenly occurs to me that I might actually owe Elvis a thank-you. Back at the Brockenhurst Country Club, I texted him and asked for a favor—to find the address of the facility where Kat’s body was taken. I scroll up through my text history and discover that he delivered.
can’t find name. 1250 Dandelion Drive Brockenhurst NJ
isn’t that your town?
I’m not sure what I was expecting. I guess I figured the place would be somewhere in the state. But Dandelion Drive? I could walk there from my house.
A new text arrives from Elvis:
done. Gina out
that fast? how?
took down local power plant
WTF?
you said get her out of the game. now she won’t be back for a while
damn Elvis
careful what u wish for asshole
It’s worse than dealing with a robot sometimes. But with Gina—and probably a good chunk of southwest Florida—out of the game, at least I can be sure that Carole and Gorog are safe for a while. So I dig into the bag that’s been left for me on the factory floor. The first thing I find is a dark blue uniform. Beneath it are two temporary badges. One bears the name MIKE ARNOLD and the job title PATIENT TRANSPORT. The second is for JOHN DRISCOLL, MAINTENANCE
. At the very bottom I find a piece of paper. Transport Order. Brockenhurst Hospital to 1250 Dandelion Drive. 8 a.m.
1250 Dandelion Drive. It’s the same address that Elvis sent me. The Clay Man really is sending me to the facility. That’s what I asked for, and that’s what I got. But somehow it feels like the decision wasn’t entirely mine. Whoever’s behind the Clay Man has been pulling my strings since he sent me the disk. He says he’s affiliated with the Company. So why is he helping me? I know I shouldn’t trust him. And I wouldn’t—if I had a choice.
—
It’s eight a.m. and there’s a van labeled PATIENT TRANSPORT parked outside the Brockenhurst Hospital ER doors. Aside from its dark-tinted windows, there’s nothing remarkable about it at all. Nor is there anything particularly interesting about the guy leaning against it slurping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He’s in his fifties, I’d guess, judging by his salt-and-pepper hair and the impressive paunch that’s hanging over his belt.
“You the guy filling in for my assistant?” he asks as I approach. You’d think the answer was obvious given the fact that I’m wearing a dark blue uniform that’s identical to his.
“Yes, sir,” I say. “Mike.”
“Don Dunlap. Thanks for making yourself available on short notice,” he says, sizing me up as he shakes my hand.
“My pleasure, sir,” I tell him.
“Recruiter said you got your EMS training in the army. The boss likes guys who’ve been in the service. Looks like you haven’t been out long enough to let your hair grow.”
“That is correct, sir,” I say, hoping he doesn’t ask for any details. The only things I know about the military I learned playing Metal Gear Solid.
“You know, if this ends up working out for both of us, there could be a steady job in it for you. We’ve had a lot of work lately. The new facility here is getting pretty popular. We’ve been picking up patients from all over the tristate area. Though it might get a little dull for you after a while. People we’ve been hauling are all stable. Not much chance of using the skills you picked up in the forces.”
