by Oliver Mayes
“You did a good job today, Daemien, well done. Who’s a good boy? It’s you! Yes! You are! Good booooooy!”
The imp finished and quickly wiped his hand on his thigh as if Damien’s hair might have contaminated his skin. Damien was still frozen in mid speech, but Noigel wasn’t done.
“There, now you know how it feels. I’m a demonic entity, not a domestic animal. Maybe if you’d summoned a few more imps before you talked to me you’d know that by now. Anyway, got to go. There ain’t no party without Noigel! You should swing by and chat sometime, you know, when you’re not ‘busy’.”
Noigel patted him twice on the cheek and gave him a thumbs up. The gesture was haunting. It was a perfect mimicry of all the times Damien given Noigel positive feedback before, right down to the childish enthusiasm with which he thrust out his arm and the pure optimism on his face.
The innocence of the gesture was permanently marred when Noigel winked at him, turned on his heel and casually sauntered away to join a pack of his line-dancing brethren.
Damien just about had the presence of mind to inspect him before he was lost in the throng. Noigel’s intelligence had risen to 75 points. It appeared that somewhere between 15 and 75, Noigel had actually become worth talking to. This thought was confirmed when Damien opened his menu, went into his Structures tab and found the forge available for construction exactly where Noigel had said it would be.
Demon Forge
Health: 500
Function: Run and maintained by a team of imps, the Demon Forge allows occultists to smelt metal and repair equipment without having to set foot in civilized society. A must-have utility for the discerning introvert.
Requirements: 30 stone blocks, 1 soul
The information had come at a price Damien hadn’t known he’d be willing to pay, but at least Noigel had pointed him in the right direction. It was doubly interesting that Noigel had informed him of the structure’s existence before Bartholomew had updated his skills in line with his new level. Damien couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t start construction then and there. He selected the building and set it down in an empty space up against the wall. The ten imps bound to his Soul Well immediately stopped what they were doing and went to work. The countdown to completion lowered and lowered as more of them applied themselves to the task until finally it was at a mere thirty minutes. Damien dumped his remaining 10 Soul Energy into the Soul Well before binding the last five imps in his party to it as well. The building time dropped to twenty-four minutes. That would do nicely.
It was already coming up to 2pm. He could leave them to it and get some lunch while he waited. He was very interested in talking to Noigel, but that would have to wait until he got back.
“I’m heading out. I’ll be back in a little while,” said Damien to no one in particular. But Bartholomew gave him a gentle nod and one of four imps chipping away at the stone walls threw a hand up in the air with the thumb and forefinger pressed together.
He logged out.
21
A Freaky Time
A few moments later and Damien was pulling the IMBA set off his head while he collected his thoughts. Things were going well! Once he could smelt iron he’d finish off his base and get back to leveling up. Maybe he’d even have enough time to hit another Rising Tide raid before the end of the day. No time to waste, then.
He quickly gathered up the headset and his other things and exited the pod. Gian looked up from his phone to give him a wave, distracted yet sincere. Damien waved back and slipped on his new sunglasses and the pollution mask before stepping out into the heat of the street.
It didn’t take long to find decent food. Wearing the sunglasses and pollution mask instead of the IMBA set was a big improvement. Not only was he more comfortable, his range of vision was significantly better, even with his hood up to cover the rest of his face.
So much better, in fact, that he managed to find a noodle bar he’d previously missed, almost directly opposite the pod hotel. Noodles weren’t his favorite, but he wanted to get back to Saga Online as soon as possible so he could keep working.
It was quarter-past one in the afternoon and the place was packed. Damien took a seat in the window and slurped down the carbohydrates as he watched the world go by. Today was going pretty well so far, but he couldn’t let up.
First he’d have to finish upgrading his base, then he’d have to go back to Bartholomew and see what new skills he’d acquired, assuming Noigel didn’t get there first. Not to mention he still needed to analyze the footage from the Maw and plan his next move against Rising Tide. No, today was far from over. If he worked fast enough he might even be able to plan out another ambush for that evening.
Damien was in between mouthfuls, racking his brain for an evening raid scheduled on the Rising Tide timetable, when he saw two men approach the door of his pod hotel. Had they just walked straight in Damien might not have noticed, but they were behaving strangely even by the standards of pod-hotel enthusiasts.
One of them was a big bald dude, wearing a plain white t-shirt and jogging pants. It wasn’t his lack of fashion sense that drew Damien’s attention. He was behaving oddly, cupping his hands over the window to unashamedly peer inside. The second man was more stylishly attired, sporting a summer jacket and a pair of enhanced glasses. He walked straight past and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the doorway, slowly turning his head as he meticulously scanned the street.
The two men had arrived together, Damien was sure of it, but now it seemed like they were taking pains not to be connected. It was only when the big man glanced over at his companion and shook his head that Damien was sure he hadn’t been imagining things.
His first thought was that they were attempting a robbery, but that made no sense considering it was broad daylight and there were cameras all along the street.
He’d just discarded this theory when the well-dressed man tapped the side of his glasses and started to speak. The motion jogged Damien’s memory and there was a jolt in his stomach. It was the two CU agents who’d come to apprehend him from his home, now camouflaged in plain clothes.
Damien was no longer hungry, but he put his head back down and kept eating. The worst thing he could do right now was move, even though that was what his instincts were screaming for him to do.
His mind was flooded with thoughts, all centered around one extremely important question. How had they found him? He’d never shown his face, he’d only ever gone outside wearing the… IMBA set…. with the Mobius Enterprises packaging left on the kitchen table. Thanks, hindsight.
Damien buried his face in his bowl. He really thought he’d been careful. Now he felt childish and stupid. He raised his head just in time to catch his pursuers entering what had once been his safe haven.
Without a word, Damien left his half-finished noodles on the table and set off down the street. His head was still spinning and he had no idea where he was going, but he needed to get away.
As he put some distance between them, Damien tried to process what had happened. If he’d been inside a pod when they showed up there’d have been no escape. If he’d still been wearing the IMBA set when he went outside, they’d probably have gone straight to the noodle bar to pick him up.
He’d been so comfortable, so confident, and yet he’d only avoided capture by a hair’s breadth. Now he’d have to find another place to log in, which was even more annoying when he’d already pai—
Damien stopped in the street as the realization scattered his thoughts into oblivion and the blood thrummed between his ears. He’d paid the old man with his mother’s card. He’d allowed Damien to stay without ID; that alone would be enough for CU to shut him down. They’d get the card details off him in no time at all.
The face mask suddenly felt suffocating and clammy as Damien’s breathing became panicked. He needed an ATM. His own meager savings wouldn’t last a day, let alone pay for another pod hotel. A signpost at the end of the street with a cash symbol on it caught his eye
.
Damien paced down the street toward it, stopping just short of breaking into a run. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself when he knew the street was being observed. He got stuck behind a group of window shoppers and had to force his way through the middle of them to get by.
Reaching the hole in the wall he shoved the card in, picking out the pin number and going straight to the withdraw option.
The most he could take in one go was five hundred credits. He punched in the figure and waited anxiously as the machine processed the transaction. After ten seconds that seemed like ten minutes, the ATM coughed out the credits and Damien thrust them into his pocket. That wouldn’t be enough. He repeated the process and waited for the second installment, glancing nervously down the street back toward the pod hotel.
When he turned to the screen, it had frozen. ‘Please Wait’ was still showing on the front, but the archaic loading animation of the spinning circle below it had ground to a halt. Damien tapped the button to withdraw the card and got nothing. They had the card details already and had managed to close it down in a matter of minutes, mid-transaction.
Damien started mashing the eject button and looked around for anything else he might usefully press when he noticed the tiny pinhole camera set into the top of the machine. Not only had they taken his card, now they knew where he was and what he was wearing, with people poised to chase him only a couple of minutes away.
His gut twisting, Damien abandoned the transaction and ran the rest of the way to the busy junction at the end of the market. He didn’t dare look up, but he could practically feel the cameras watching his every step. His disguise had been rendered completely useless. If he stayed here with his every step being monitored and relayed to his pursuers he wouldn’t last five minutes. He had to find a way out of here.
Looking around frantically, he spotted an automated taxi rank off to the left with only a few people in line. He jogged toward it before slowing down again as the folly of his choice struck home. If the cameras saw him get into an unmanned taxi they could track it and restrain him at their leisure, maybe even redirect it to go where it suited them. He might as well walk straight into a holding cell.
Damien paced past the taxis, suppressing the urge to pull off his increasingly humid mask. They might know what he looked like, but as long as he denied the cameras his facial features CU would be forced to track him manually. That would only mean so much if he was still on foot, yet every other available choice invited failure.
He passed a tram stop and was growing increasingly fearful when a nasal toot on the other side of the road attracted his attention. Hidden down a narrow side street was a cluster of rickshaws, complete with ragged-looking drivers who were hungrily beckoning tourists from the main road. Damien had always found them to be a nuisance; now they represented a small miracle.
Turning back to use a crosswalk he’d passed a short while ago, his heart stopped. The big man was stomping down the street toward him, bald head shining like a beacon as he scanned the crowd and pushed his way through the strollers. Summer Suit followed in his wake, peering around from behind his human battering ram whenever he had the opportunity.
This was it. They were going to get him.
Damien was left with only one viable option. He turned toward the highway with his toes overhanging the sidewalk and glanced up-road. There was a tram coming in the outside lane, only a few seconds away. Damien took a deep breath and waited until the last moment before running out past it.
Damien reached the opposite side of the road and made a beeline for the rickshaws, looking over his shoulder to see if he’d been spotted. His pursuers were still single-mindedly advancing down the road. It looked like he was OK.
Right up until Summer Suit stopped and pressed a finger to his ear, his free hand snatching his partner by the back of the shirt, before slowly turning his head to stare across the road. Damn. Damien jogged forward and went for the first rickshaw in line. The driver quickly put out his cigarette and gave Damien a nod.
“Take me downtown. Err, Victory Road.”
“Fifty credits, boss.”
Fifty? But Damien didn’t have time to haggle. He nodded and got into the back. The driver looked at him patiently. Out in front of them, the agents were trying and failing to cross the road. The big one was well-built for pushing through people but not quite so well adapted to weaving through traffic.
Damien fished into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of crisp notes, trying not to drop them from his shaking hands. He removed fifty and thrust it toward the driver.
“I’m in a hurry. And I want to go that way, down the road behind us.”
The driver took his sweet time counting the money. Clearly he didn’t like being told people were in a hurry. Damien bit his tongue and looked at the main road.
Summer Suit had lost his temper and left his companion behind, reaching into his pocket for a badge which he thrust out toward the oncoming vehicles. An automated car stopped for him and he advanced, just as the driver finally finished counting for the third time.
“Sure thing, boss.”
The driver twisted the handlebars and the nippy little vehicle turned on the spot, the electric motor whirring under their feet. Damien looked out the window as they sped away. Summer Suit had made it across and was looking all around himself, only a couple of feet away from where Damien’s rickshaw had been at rest. He pressed a finger against the rim of his glasses and was yelling at the wall as Damien rounded the corner.
Damien took off his bag and set it beside him, rummaging around for new clothes. It wouldn’t take long for CU to review the footage and figure out what happened. He needed to disappear.
The rickshaw had no doors, but the compartment still concealed him from the outside if he sat in the middle. This would be his best chance. He took off his hoodie and changed his shirt first, attracting a bemused look from the driver.
“I paid you fifty credits for a short trip. The least you could do is watch the road.”
The driver narrowed his eyes, but obediently set his sights back ahead.
Damien swapped the sunglasses out for his second pair. The face mask was white on the inside but blue on the outside, so he simply swapped it round and put it back on. He considered what to do about his tell-tale backpack and decided to cover it with the hoodie he’d been wearing. He could carry it in one hand rather than on his back. Anything would help.
As soon as he was finished he poised himself on the edge of his seat, waiting for a chance to leave the rickshaw. Ideally, he wanted the driver to continue onward without even knowing his passenger was gone. That way he wouldn’t be able to tell CU anything if… when they tracked him down.
A chance came when they stopped at a busy crosswalk and the rickshaw was swarmed with people on all sides, bringing it to a standstill. The driver was steadfastly ignoring him.
Damien slipped out into the crowd and walked away without looking back. He turned on the sidewalk and glimpsed the rickshaw trundling away out of the corner of his eye, the driver apparently none the wiser.
Yet he had no idea where to go next. He wasn’t as familiar with this part of town as he was with the area surrounding his home. All he could do was keep walking and cross his fingers. He found an internet café and gratefully stepped out of the heat, happy to be back on track.
Within two minutes flat he was back on the street again, turned away when he couldn’t provide any ID. And so it was with the next place. And the next. No matter where he went, without some proof of who he was everyone turned him down.
Even the regular internet cafés without pods wouldn’t let him in, explaining to the increasingly distraught teenager that they needed to provide a clear link to all their customers' browsing histories in case CU called them up on it. Some would at least direct him to the next place to be rejected from, but more often than not they’d fold their arms and offer him nothing but an unapologetic smile.
The sun was getting low in
the sky and Damien had walked all the way to the outskirts of town by the time he found his next prospect, down a narrow back street. A dirty sign on the top proudly proclaimed it as ‘Freaky Freja’s Pleasure Palace – all your virtual reality needs catered to’. It looked like an utter dive, but Damien was exhausted. Any place would do.
He stepped inside and removed his sunglasses and face mask, a congenial smile unwillingly plastering itself to his face. There was a lady standing at a counter filing her nails. Damien could only assume it was ‘Freaky Freja’ herself, judging by her green hair and the multiple piercings and tattoos. Even her eyebrows were dyed green.
“Hi, do you have pods here? I’d like to stay twenty-four hours, please.”
The woman looked up at him and immediately went back to what she was doing.
“Sorry, kid, this isn’t the kind of establishment you’re looking for. Beat it.”
Damien held the smile and stepped up to the counter, folding his arms on it and staring straight at her. The lady rolled her eyes and sighed but otherwise showed no signs of acknowledging his presence.
“It’s exactly the kind of place I’m looking for. Don’t worry, I’m not looking to do anything… freaky. I just want a quiet place to play my game. I’ve got my own headset and everything.”
“Great. Take it somewhere else.”
Damien checked the price list behind her. A hundred credits a night for a pod, fifty to rent a headset, two hundred and fifty to rent something called a ‘sanitized crotch-scanner’. There were other options, but that was as far down the list as Damien felt like going.
He could see why she wasn’t interested in him staying. Besides obviously being a minor, he’d be taking up space that might be used by someone who’d pay more. He reached into his pocket and sorted through his notes before holding out a hundred and fifty. It was a lot, but he was so tired. He had to try.
“I’ll pay for a headset as well. You won’t even have to give it to me.”
