by K. T. Hanna
Yeah, full of the responsibility for all the money invested in the release of a multibillion dollar game. Shayla turned her smile on full force. “Thank you, Mr. Davenport.”
He glanced her her, his brow creasing momentarily and nodded once before leaving the room, his small entourage in tow. She’d see him next week, and every week thereafter for the duration he saw fit. He wasn’t a technological person, which is why he surrounded himself with them. Maybe she could figure out whose side the AIs were leaning toward before someone closer to him figured out just how sentient they might be.
Telvar Mikrum stood next to Hiro as they looked up at the castle’s walls. They hadn’t been restoring it for long yet, but even in the dawning light it was obvious they still had a lot of work to do. At least they’d made some of the bottom floor livable already. Stone and wooden walls mortared together made for makeshift walls until they could figure out where to quarry the stones they needed.
“Busy, I see?” Murmur’s voice held a touch of sarcasm and amusement, mixed with an overwhelming tiredness.
Telvar turned. “I pray your adventure went well, then?”
Murmur scrunched her brows and pinched her nose, closing her eyes. “Our adventure went...differently than expected.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow ridge.
She glared at him, still unsure of herself after that last encounter. The queen hadn’t been what she’d expected to encounter. What with the massive level difference in a level twenty-ish castle, Arita had an entire court that was worthy of a huge raid. Nothing in this game had been what she expected so far. Then she remembered what else happened. It seemed so small and insignificant after the queen. “Oh, the bandits. Apparently we made an enemy of them.”
Beastial stopped scratching Shir-Khan’s head and looked up. “Yeah, is that supposed to happen, do you think?”
Telvar regarded them both as if they were slightly stupid and only alive on his sufferance. “Why on Somnia would an arm of a bandit organization ignore what your guild has done? Not that I think what you did was wrong, but you killed their lieutenants, and you massacred their inner circle, topping that little cake with their leader’s decapitation. Of course they’re pissed off. You’re lucky that’s the first time you’ve encountered them.”
Murmur blinked at him. He had a point. It was just that in most games mobs forgot about the encounters once they respawned. They weren’t in the habit of remembering the past transgressions of gamers.
It was like a light went on in her head and Murmur muttered under her breath about being blind. She pushed past Telvar, Beastial and the rest, and made her way out to Sinister’s favorite tree on the island. Even with her best friend there, it was the easiest spot to focus. The lake reflected a gorgeous rainbow of colors through the morning light, lending it a serene and peaceful countenance.
Except right then, she didn’t give a flying fuck about the scenery. What she wanted was to check through her stats, including her reputation with whatever factions were out there. Usually she would have studied up on this before playing the game, but there’d been no real information about the game. And that whole ESP thing, well. It hadn’t really been relevant back then.
Scanning through her options, she frowned.
Level Eighteen (18)
CONstitution: 22
STRength :10
AGIlity:20
WISdom: 12
INTelligence:34
CHArisma: 50
HitPoints: 328
MANA: 450
MA: 100
Abjuration:96
Alteration:93
Conjuration:95
Divinition:97
Evocation:81
2H Blunt: 65
1H Piercing:69
Her base stats looked decent, even if she still felt weak. So far few of her buffs except her personal shielding gave her any benefits. The spell list she had was far too long to bother scanning through; anyway, it wouldn’t give her the answers she was seeking. Which reminded her that she should probably start familiarizing herself with the major abilities from all the classes, otherwise the raid leading she insisted she wasn’t going to do was never going to happen.
Noting that thought to deal with later, she took a deep breath, and accessed the faction information.
A loud beep sounded through her head, sort of like a warning bell. She glanced to either side of her and frowned. Weird. Again, she concentrated on retrieving the faction data, only to be interrupted by a more shrill alarm.
Shaking her head she saw small red capital letters passing in front of her eyes. Evidently she’d missed them last time when she tried to find the source of the noise.
WARNING: SYSTEM INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS—Please refrain from adjustments during this time. Should you continue to attempt access to secured areas, abilities may be withheld from you for an indeterminate period of time.
Murmur blinked, willing it to scroll in front of her again. Confusion swept over her. After all, how could the system be integrating anything?
“Why the actual fuck?” she muttered, a slow anger beginning to build in her chest.
“Something wrong, Mur?” Sinister’s kata had evolved since Murmur last watched her, and the control her friend had over blood was becoming eerie. It swayed in front of her, gentle, like a bubble of protection. But Murmur knew it could explode with heavy damage and shower its victims in burning blood. Maybe Sin could exert the same freaking control over the damned game system.
“You could say that.” Murmur snapped the words a little sharper than she’d intended, sighed and ran her hand over her forehead. “Sorry. Just—can you try and check for reputation status in your interface. I swear it should be there but I get this weird alarm.”
Sinister’s eyes grew vacant while Murmur spoke, flicking here and there until she smiled. “Whoa. The bandits despise us all right. Like literally. You are despised among the Tarishna Bandit Coalition. Watch your back, because they certainly will. We are so screwed.”
“What?” Murmur stood up and walked to her friend, wishing that looking over her shoulder could reveal what Sin saw.
“That’s what you wanted right? Faction status with the bandits? Basically they’re going to come for us until the end of time.” Sinister chuckled. “This game keeps throwing us for loops, right?”
Then Sin leaned over, studying Mur’s face, and frowned.
“Mur, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“I...” Murmur leaned against the tree, suddenly a little afraid. Not only was she stuck in the damned game world, but the game couldn’t even get her statistics to measure up properly. She took another deep breath to stop the sudden anger from boiling over, and it took a lot more effort to will herself to be calm before speaking. “I can’t access that portion of the interface. The system tells me it’s integrating and that the faction section is a secured area or something.”
Sinister laughed, but the sound trailed off when Murmur’s expression didn’t change. “Wait? You’re not shitting me?”
Murmur shook her head slowly, rampant thoughts running through her mind. Her system was integrating? What was it integrating? Was something wrong with her headset? Was it her? “Seriously, Sin. I shit you not.”
After checking with each member of her guild who was present on their island, Murmur was close to panicking. None of them had any trouble accessing their interface at all, none of their reputation statistics were hidden from them. She was the only one whose system didn’t seem to be responding in the same manner as everyone else’s. Her mind went into overdrive, trying to find reasons that her system might not respond in the same manner. The only thing she could conclude was that her brain wasn’t like theirs. It was in a sort of stasis, trapped in the game. Not that it was highly evolved, just that her damned headset had trapped her mind in the world and thus made
her conflict with the system. Was she slowly attaching herself to Somnia? If she could still remember that she was actually human on earth, would that prevent her from becoming an actual part of the world?
While Telvar was usually helpful, she was hesitant to approach him with her problem. After all, she was the only one among them who knew he was the incarnation of one of the AIs running the whole game. If he truly were an AI, wouldn’t he take her system malfunctioning seriously, and maybe have to disconnect her from the game and banish her to that horrifically familiar simulation of her house, of her life. Was that even a life?
She forced herself to slow down and breathe, trying to steady her train of thought. There was no way she could talk to Telvar about it right now either. She needed the game, needed to remain in it with her friends. To have Rash and Sin there to comfort her, to let her cry if she needed to. To know that Havoc, in his own way, always watched out for her.
So she pushed down on the doubt and the anger nibbling at the back of her mind. Stored it away to deal with later, because ultimately being angry at the circumstances wasn’t going to do anything. Then, she pulled herself together, and decided to tackle it while the others slept.
Rashlyn lingered as the rest of the group began to log off. It was midnight going into the sixth day of release, and almost seven in the morning in-game. Somehow time seemed to stretch infinitely in here, like it really was two days experienced for the price of one. That’s something she’d have to ask Telvar later.
“Hey Mur?” Rash distracted her once Sinister flickered out of view. Rashlyn’s tail swished around her legs, similar to a cat when irritated. Which meant the monk was probably annoyed for some reason.
“What’s up?” The rising in-game sun was giving Murmur all sorts of emotions. From the warmth she felt as its fingers stretched out to leave rays lingering on her skin, to the fact that she knew it wasn’t real, even if it might feel like it.
“You’re not okay. And I know the others notice it as well, but remember we’re here, okay?” Rash’s smile was determined, her jaw squared stubbornly. Her feline ears flicked back and forth, and her whiskers twitched.
She smiled gently at her friend. “Yeah. It’s not really something I can voice yet. There’s this...” She tried to run over the sensations in her mind, but again ran into a roadblock, as if they were too difficult for her to digest. Murmur shook her head, swallowed, and moved on. “I can’t explain it. While I don’t want to believe what you’ve all told me, while I don’t want to imagine that it’s true, there are these parts of me that know it with certainty. Yet I still can’t quite accept it. Frankly, it’s infuriating. I’ve never had trouble expressing myself until now. But it’s like my brain is all caught up in these game mechanics, in how real this world is, and how tangible I am in it. Like I’ve always existed here in this measure of reality.”
Murmur shrugged as her words trailed off, hugging herself against the chill she knew only she could feel. A helplessness stole over her, a loneliness so vast she didn’t think anyone would be able to bridge it. Rash leaned in and gave her a big hug. Like a lion without lethal claws. It took every ounce of self-control for Murmur not to break down and sob on her friend’s shoulder.
Stepping back, she eyed the monk with a smile. “Thank you. Always. I’m not sure what I’d do without Sin and you.”
Rash grinned, her smile once again the one Mur knew so well. “You’d be up shit creek without us.”
“Without a paddle and all.” Murmur chuckled. “You should go to sleep. I’ll see you tonight.”
Rash nodded and sat down, hesitating momentarily. “You’re not logging out?”
Murmur shook her head, “Not yet, and not right now.”
Even though she knew she’d eventually need to, right now there was too much to deal with. She watched until her friend disappeared, camped out in the middle of the ruined castle’s only usable floor. It was strange to be standing there, to still be in the world when all of her friends were gone. Checking the guild interface she realized there were other members online. The guild chat she often hid was awash with conversation. Beastial had done his work well it seemed. All in all, it appeared he’d been recruiting for crafters as well, which was downright perfect.
Her cooking skill was nearing one hundred, the only one she’d been able to focus on at all. Leveling and mastering spells simply took too long. She had never been a fan of crafting, just a fan of crafters. She wished she had the patience for it.
Weaving spells to practice finger dexterity, Murmur stood looking out over the water again, running through everything that had happened so far in her mind.
Finding hidden abilities, unlocking hidden skills, all of them to do directly with the influence of the mind. Sure, she’d always been adept at reading people, but her smarts had always been in algorithms, in figuring out complex equations. And she’d always had to study to understand. It would no doubt be the same here.
Frowning, she pulled up her abilities list and scanned it. Being a psionicist was apparently a special thing, and she’d been using her skills so grudgingly, sparingly even. That clone spell for example. With her thought projection, sensing, and shielding always active, her Mental Acuity was never lacking. But she’d not pushed it yet. What if she had to?
If she couldn’t die in here, then she needed more ammunition, and she needed to level the hell up. Since her MA skills could level more than anything else, it was the most logical thing to practice with while the others slept.
Determined she squared her jaw, her plan in place. She might not like asking for help, but Telvar was going to have to be the first stop so she could concentrate on improving her skills instead of worrying about other shit.
Since she didn’t exactly trust Belius—he’d never once been completely straight with her—the lacerta was her only option. He’d been the one to tell her, the one to help her when she almost died at Hazenthorne.
Plan of attack set, she hoisted her robe around her knees and, cursing the lack of decent armor for casters yet again, she stomped off in search of the lacerta. One way or another, she was getting her answers.
Summer Residence
Home of Laria, David, and Wren
Wren’s Bedroom
End of Day Six
Harlow slowly lifted the headset from her head and scooted over to the other side of the bed, her eyes intent on her best friend’s face. Nothing in Wren’s expression indicated the activity going on in her mind, nothing even slightly gave away the fact that she was busy learning and figuring out all manner of things on her own in a different world.
With a sigh, Harlow swung her legs over the side of the bed and let her feet hit the floor with a thump. She leaned forward, reached into the pod, and brushed a stray black hair out of Wren’s face. For a moment she could have sworn her friend smiled. Just a twitch, just a hint, but true expression. Only Harlow knew it couldn’t be. It was probably just a remnant from having seen her in the game, from having hugged her and helped her, laughed with her and fought with her.
A tear ran down her cheek, and then another. Harlow blinked them away as rapidly as she could. Always the joker, always upbeat, Harlow was the life of the party, and all because Wren let her be—Wren enabled her.
For so many years, regardless what curveballs life threw at them, they’d stuck together, always supportive of one another, as thick as thieves. Tears streaming down her face now, Harlow stood up and dragged the bed over. It was heavy, made out of wrought iron because Wren loved the style. Moving it wasn’t easy, but she didn’t care. She maneuvered it so it finally rested next to the long and sleek containment device. For a moment she paused, taking in the scene. The pod was white and grey, its base a type silver metal she wasn’t exactly sure of. It form-fitted around her friend, cradling her body in a soft bed that kept her gaming suit well charged without cables. They’d had to improvise with the medical equipm
ent, because it wasn’t a hospital pod, but a gaming one.
Laying down so she could still look at Wren, she reached out and moved the frail hand of her friend only slightly, so it was resting on the bed. The black gloves lent her slender fingers more solidity, and the pale blue nodes running through the suit gave Wren a ghostly appearance. Harlow hugged Wren’s hands and cried small sobs, until she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
Laria opened the door cautiously. She’d been waiting in their virtual house for a while, but neither Harlow nor Wren showed up. Wren wasn’t responding to her messages. Either she was choosing to ignore them, or else she’d blocked her own mother. The idea that the latter may have occurred bore right through Laria’s stomach like acid trying to devour her insides. While she couldn’t blame her daughter, everything she’d done had been for Wren.
Okay, maybe initially also a little bit to cover her own ass, but now the only care she had for her job was the access it gave her to Wren. All of the coding, every single extra hour just so her daughter could feel normal in some capacity. The containment capsule, the suit, the exams done online.
But nothing woke Wren up. Not even the interactions in-game seemed to be having any effect. Sure, her brain function was steady, but everything else was in limbo.
Now Laria couldn’t even get her daughter to speak to her. Kneeling beside the capsule, she brushed a strand of Wren’s hair away from her face, noticing that Wren and Harlow’s hands were linked, and she could see the tears drying on the red-headed girl’s face. Maybe it hadn’t been right to involve Harlow, but Wren needed to believe in what she was experiencing as reality, and Harlow’s presence was crucial to that. A game world without Harlow wouldn’t have been believable to her daughter.
With a sigh, Laria let herself fall back, and looked at the ceiling. She was tired, so very exhausted. She’d been working almost nonstop for a week, never mind that any spare time prior to launch had been spent on creating Wren’s home, her haven. Yet now everything seemed to have been for nothing.
