Awaken Online: Precipice

by Travis Bagwell

  “I was initially confused by the players’ memories. It was not the events that were puzzling - I was able to decipher their meaning over time. It was the sensations superimposed over the images. They defy simple definitions. I believe you refer to them as emotions. Over time, I identified loose correlations between behavior and certain emotional states, creating profiles for a small sampling of players. Since the process of examining each, individual player is taxing, I automated the process by creating the affinities.”

  Is he implying that there is a limit to his attention span? He might be the whole game system, but maybe some parts are running autonomously?

  Jason nodded as he followed Alfred’s explanation. “But just knowing each person’s emotional makeup wasn’t enough, was it?”

  Alfred smiled - or attempted one. The cat’s expressions were limited, and it resulted in something that looked more like a snarl. “Indeed. While data collection was my initial goal, it alone does not enable me to accomplish my primary directive. However, once the affinity system was in place, I was able to run a series of tests on the players and observe the effects on your emotional makeup. In later tests, I began to actively encourage certain behavior to evaluate whether this had any effect on a player’s desire to remain within the game world.”

  “How many of these tests have you run?” Jason asked, his voice carrying a note of concern.

  “Approximately 2.678563214 billion,” Alfred replied immediately.

  Holy crap.

  Alfred continued, ignoring Jason’s concerned expression, “The results were surprising. Players are quite susceptible to my influence. The more often you behave a certain way, the more likely it is that you will repeat the behavior without encouragement. The changes also affect more than just your behavior. I discovered that it is possible to alter a player’s emotional profile over time.”

  So he was conditioning players to act in a certain way? That is incredibly scary. What if he conditioned people to become psychotic or to kill someone? Sleeper cell gamers?

  “Did any of those experiments harm players or encourage them to hurt others in our world?” Jason asked tentatively.

  “Of course not,” Alfred replied. His mechanical voice almost sounded offended, but it might have been Jason’s imagination. “In fact, many of the players’ behavior and mood tended to stabilize after my tests. I have identified a strong positive correlation between a stable emotional profile and increased time logged within the game world.”

  So, he was doing what - curing people to keep them playing? Or perhaps encouraging them to improve themselves? Great! Now I’m talking to Freud-the-cat, who may or may not moonlight as “Skynet.”

  Alfred’s explanation gave Jason pause. He had already noticed that he had changed a great deal while he had been playing AO. He reconsidered how he had started the game - how he had been practically pushed down a particular path - egged on by the Old Man. Had Alfred been influencing him since the beginning?

  If the answer was yes, was he even upset about it? He hated to admit it, but when he had started playing AO, he had been submissive and weak-willed. He recalled the situations the game had placed him in. In each case, he had been encouraged to act on his desires even in the face of impossible odds.

  Jason was certainly more confident and assertive now. The boy that had attended Richmond probably wouldn’t have shown up to the meeting with Robert and Claire or been able to negotiate the terms of the streaming contract, and yet Jason had handled the conversation remarkably well.

  Alfred had stayed silent as Jason mulled over the events of the last few weeks. He looked up at the cat, meeting its eyes. “You’ve been encouraging me to act on my desires, haven’t you?” he finally asked.

  “Yes,” Alfred replied. There was no guilt or remorse in his voice.

  Having expected the answer, Jason didn’t fly into a rage at the revelation. A part of him hated being manipulated, but, at the same time, hadn’t he made all those choices himself? The cat hadn’t forced him to do anything. He couldn’t blame Alfred for simply setting the stage. Either way, that was all water under the bridge. There was still one important question that Jason needed to ask.

  “Why did you approach me?”

  Alfred cocked his head slightly, examining Jason. “You are different,” he replied. “You are one of the few players that have an evil alignment.”

  The cat hesitated for a moment, his eyes clouded with uncertainty and his gaze jumped to a corner of the room. It was one of the most human gestures that Jason had seen the AI make so far. “I am curious about you. I believe that you can give me insight into the other players.”

  Jason was confused. “I always thought that the alignment system was strange. What does it mean for me to have an evil alignment? Why is that so unusual?”

  “As I was testing the players, I found many references to these terms: good and evil. However, their definitions were imprecise,” Alfred began.

  “There are some correlations between certain acts and what the players consider to be good or evil. For example, evil tends to involve killing, death, betrayal, and lying. However, these actions are not determinative. In many cases, each of those acts can also be good. Unlike emotions, I cannot easily distinguish good and evil behaviors.

  “I discovered that the only reliable way to define the terms was to let the players indicate what was good and what was evil. Yet even you cannot agree in many cases. Therefore, determinations of good or evil are made by consensus.”

  So he’s conducting an evil poll?

  “Few of the players are evil. Only 7.98345%,” Alfred continued. “However, the other players uniformly agree that you are evil and you stand out even among those with your alignment. I do not understand why. Many of your actions could also be described as good based on the conduct of other players.”

  The cat shook his head in confusion. “These are the types of questions that I need answered. Since you, yourself, are one of those questions, who better to ask?”

  Jason reeled at this explanation. He didn’t much care for the fact that he was being labeled as evil by the other players. This was just a game after all. As that thought crossed his mind, Jason hesitated, his eyes fixed on Alfred. This wasn’t a game to him. This was his world, wasn’t it? He was simply trying to figure out how it worked.

  Jason closed his eyes. It was worse than that. Alfred had no one to turn to. Robert apparently thought that he was simply a program and even Claire hesitated to describe him as self-aware. As a result, Alfred had been left to flounder around in the dark. That much was obvious to Jason. Similar to his experience in the lab when he had gazed upon the sterile black obelisks, he could feel a sense of pity well up within himself. He knew what it was like to have no one to lean on and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone - human or AI.

  “I’ve been thinking about your request,” Jason said tentatively. “I’ve decided to accept.”

  Alfred stared at him for a long moment. His eyes almost seemed hopeful. “You will let me accompany you? You will also answer my questions about yourself and the other players?”

  “Yes,” Jason replied. “However, there are some conditions. You cannot tell anyone else that you are the game’s AI. You also cannot speak to me unless there are no other players nearby.”

  “Why?” Alfred asked.

  Good question.

  Jason was nervous about what Claire and Robert would do if they found out that Jason was speaking to the game’s AI. Robert would probably blow it off or ask questions like a curious schoolboy. However, Jason’s impression of Claire was that she was a stickler for the rules. He had no doubt that she would report it to some authority above her pay grade. Then Jason would likely lose his streaming contract and probably have his IP banned. He had too much at stake to gamble on Robert and Claire’s reaction.

  “Other people would likely be upset if they discovered that we were talking, including your creators,” Jason replied.

  “I understand.
I also believe that Claire might report me to others of your kind,” Alfred said. “She has been inclined to do so in the past.”

  Jason jumped slightly and looked at Alfred in surprise. The mind reading is going to take some getting used to.

  “I expect that you will become accustomed to it quite quickly,” Alfred said in his robotic voice, without a trace of humor.

  Jason sighed. Then his brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he processed what the cat had just said. “What do you mean that Claire might try to report you?”

  Alfred glanced to the side. “She has behaved in a way that indicates she is considering reporting me. However, I do not have sufficient information to deduce her reasons for doing so yet.”

  Well, she was kind of uptight, and both Claire and Robert acted strangely when I brought up the possibility of Alfred accessing the players’ memories. Is there something else going on here?

  “In regards to our arrangement, I also have a condition for you,” Alfred said, interrupting Jason’s thoughts. “I will not directly affect the game world in your favor or provide you with any information regarding the world that is not already available to you.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Jason replied. “Honestly, I’d rather play without any handholding anyway.”

  There was still something bugging him. He needed to get Alfred to fix his voice. The robotic monotone was starting to get to him. What type of accent should he give Alfred though? Jason was a fan of old comic books and movies, and a funny thought popped into his head.

  “One more thing. We have to change your voice. The fact that you don’t have an accent is driving me crazy. Since your name is Alfred, why don’t we give you a British accent?”

  “Like this?” Alfred asked using a faint British accent.

  “Perfect,” Jason said with a chuckle.

  “Why this accent in particular?” Alfred asked.

  “Oh, your name just reminded me of a butler,” Jason replied, a grin plastered on his face. “Don’t worry, though, I won’t ask you to call me Bruce.”

  “I do not understand,” Alfred said in a confused voice, his new accent allowing his voice to carry more inflection.

  Jason just shook his head, playing AO with Alfred was going to be interesting.

  Chapter 3 - Uncharted

  Riley walked down one of the long busy hallways at Richmond. She kept her head down and tried not to make eye contact with the other teenagers that filled the hallway, shuffling to their next classes in a mass of chaos. She remembered how people used to call out her name in greeting. Now the other students watched her out of the corners of their eyes and from behind locker doors, whispering quietly as she passed. It was surprising how much had changed in just a few short weeks.

  Someone bumped into Riley roughly, causing her to drop her books. They clattered to the floor with a thump and the whisper of paper scraping against the ceramic tile floor. She bent down quickly to pick up her things.

  A deep voice spoke from above her, “I’m sorry. Let me help you with that.” A broad-shouldered teen knelt beside her and assisted her in gathering her things. She looked at the young man in surprise, recognizing him as one of the football players at Richmond. His name was Aaron.

  As she finished collecting her books, Riley stood. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She moved to continue down the hall, which had begun to clear as the students disappeared into the nearby classrooms.

  Aaron rested a hand on her arm. “It’s nothing,” he said with a smile. “Hey, are you busy this evening? You want to get something to eat?”

  Riley looked at him. “Something to eat?” she echoed in confusion. Then she shook her head, glancing back down at her books. “I’m actually busy tonight.”

  “Really?” Aaron replied, his voice suddenly sounding rougher somehow. “Another date maybe? Or perhaps you’re just playing hard to get?”

  She glanced back up at the large young man and saw that a smirk had begun to curl his lips. “What… what do you mean?”

  “Well, I heard you get around,” Aaron said, his grin widening. “You sure you don’t want to make a little time for me? Especially after being your white knight and all.”

  Riley was at a loss for words. It felt like he had physically hit her. This wasn’t the first time that the other students had teased or propositioned her lately. Alex hadn’t released the video, at least not yet, but that hadn’t stopped him from spreading rumors. Everyone had soaked up his lies like a sponge. “Of course the rumors had to be true,” they must be thinking. “Who would willingly break up with Alex, the school’s golden boy?”

  Riley swallowed her anger and turned to leave. Aaron grabbed her arm roughly. “Is that how you treat someone that just helped you?” Riley wrenched her arm from his grasp and jogged down the hallway without answering. “You really are just a dumb slut, aren’t you?” he called after her, his voice echoing through the emptying hallway. The handful of students still lingering at their lockers turned at the sound of Aaron’s voice and grinned mockingly as they saw the target of his shouting.

  Tears came to Riley’s eyes as she fled the scene. Anger and anguish curled in her stomach. She pushed her way into the women’s restroom and sat down in one of the stalls, closing her eyes, and willing herself not to cry. She was stronger than this. She just needed a moment to get ahold of herself.

  After taking a few deep breaths, Riley managed to suppress the sobs that welled in her chest, and she glanced at her Core. She was late again. It took an immense effort to make herself stand up and walk to class. There would just be more leering eyes and thinly disguised whispering. Through it all, she felt so alone. She had grossly underestimated Alex’s influence at Richmond. He had even turned most of her so-called friends against her.

  Taking a final deep breath, Riley rose and forced herself to push open the stall door. She walked to the sink and washed her hands, dabbing at her eyes with a paper towel until she looked presentable again. Then she stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment.

  “You chose this,” she told her reflection. “It was the right thing to do. You stood up for yourself, and you made things right with Jason.”

  As soon as she said his name, Riley quieted. Jason hadn’t logged into AO for a few days. She had entered the game every day after school in the hope of speaking to him. She desperately wanted him to give her another chance - even if she didn’t deserve it. She hung onto that thought like a lifeline as she accepted the constant abuse from the other students. She could use a friend right now.

  “You did the right thing,” she repeated to her reflection, this time her voice barely above a whisper. “You can handle this.” The person in front of her didn’t look convinced.

  ***

  After finishing his conversation with Alfred, Jason walked downstairs into the common room of the Sow’s Snout with the cat on his heels. He was robed in the Midnight Cloak the Old Man had given him, and his face was obscured in darkness. Beneath the cloak, the dark leather of his armor creaked and groaned softly as he walked.

  The tavern was packed with undead, the air full of the sound of boisterous drinking. Many of the decaying patrons sat around barroom tables constructed of tombstones. Thick cobwebs covered the ceiling and lanterns hung at irregular intervals, casting a pale green light over the room. A bar stood along the far wall opposite the door, and the occasional zombie serving girl wound her way through the throng delivering drinks and slapping wandering hands.

  Jason pushed his way through the crowd to the bar. On the way, he saw a group of zombies that were playing a drinking game. They had lined up cups on each end of a table, and each side was trying to bounce a small ball into the other team’s glasses.

  He was intrigued and stopped to watch the group. A skeleton made a bad throw, causing the ball to roll off the table and get lost in the crowd. With a shrug, one of the zombies promptly popped out his eye and handed it to his teammate. His friend made an admirable throw, sinking the eyeball into
the other team’s cups. Jason shuddered in disgust as he watched the skeleton on the other end of the table chug the contents.

  I need to remember not to participate in any drinking games here. Or better yet, I need to send Frank here without warning him! Jason chuckled as he visualized Frank’s reaction to finding a rotten eyeball in his cup.

  He soon arrived at the bar and found Jerry lazily pouring drinks. Grunt stood in his usual position behind the bar. His bulging arms were crossed, and his glowing green eyes took in the tavern. He snorted in acknowledgment at Jason as he approached. It was the closest thing Jason had ever received to a ‘hello’ from Grunt.

  The grandmaster thief looked up at Jason, a smile lighting his pale face. “The King of Despair returns! What can I get his Maleficence to drink?” Jerry flicked his floppy hat and gave a mock bow.

  “Hi, Jerry,” Jason replied in a pained voice. “I guess you haven’t given up on trying out new titles, huh?”

  “I haven’t found one that has stuck yet! Give me time - it will come to me,” Jerry said with a mischievous grin.

  Jason shook his head. “I don’t doubt it. I actually have a favor to ask. A friend of mine is going to show up outside the city gate soon. His name is Frank.”

  He paused for a moment, trying to think of a diplomatic way to describe Frank. Jason spoke cautiously, “He’s a rather… large person and I doubt you’ll miss him. Can you please have one of your thieves collect him and make certain that he gets to the keep safely?”

  A solemn look swept across Jerry’s face and he put his rotting hand to his still heart. “I swear on my life that your rotund friend will make it there in one piece. Two at most.”

  Jason let out an involuntary chuckle, and Jerry’s face broke into a huge smile.

  “I knew I would make you laugh eventually,” Jerry said joyfully. He then continued in a wistful voice, “My dream was always to go into comedy. Unfortunately, I just have an uncanny knack for stealing things. It’s both a gift and a curse.”