by Rue Vespers
Mercilessly, the doctor said, “Take it as a learning experience. Now, as to the matter of your scrambling, I can dissemble you right here with a few clicks to the program and send you on your way-”
“Fuck this! I didn’t collect all of those Capricorn teeth to be scrambled! I’d rather play Corazon’s Journey,” one exclaimed.
Jenner remembered that game. He’d liked it a lot. Then again, he was liking Scrambled Lives, too. There was a cheerful mania to it that he found enjoyable.
“Just scramble and get it over with, you big babies,” Rosy mumbled as the two players complained vociferously to the doctor. “Nobody’s going to miss you at your low-ass levels.”
“What’s an Oderi amulet?” Jenner asked.
“A blessing. Pretty common. Tosco the toss-pot was wearing one.”
“That shifting symbol? What did it do?”
“A player with an Oderi blessing has five extra health points, but only while it’s around his neck. That cost him thirty golds and more for all the good those five points did him in a nest of baby cave lurkers.” Rosy giggled evilly at how those extra points just prolonged Master Tosco’s agony.
Silence fell in the next room. Either these were outer-world players who had just signed off, or else the doctor scrambled them without waiting for permission.
Footsteps clipped across the room, rang down the hallway, and the door to Jenner’s room opened. A bald man in a lab coat popped in and kicked the door shut behind him. Looking down to a tablet, he said, “Let’s see! Jenner, human, twenty-one, and you have concerns about your upload speed. I’m Doctor Gohr.”
“That’s a terrible name for a doctor!” Rosy castigated. “Pick a new one.”
“It’s my real name. And you must be the glitch! I see the INTC deemed you harmless.” The doctor sat down on a stool, his index finger tapping away at the screen. “Yes, I can understand why you would be concerned at 9.0% with your body failing.”
“Doctor, what happened to me?” Jenner inquired. “I can’t remember much.”
Tap-tap-tap. “It says here that you collapsed at work and were brought unconscious to the ER at Memorial Hospital. Your bloodwork showed the presence of the Hepson virus. The survival rate for Hepson is quite high, but in very rare cases such as yours, it causes progressive brain inflammation that either results in the patient living on in a vegetative state, or death.”
“How the fuck did the kid catch that?” Rosy asked, impressed. “Damn, Gramma!”
Astonished, Jenner said, “But I’m young! And I’m . . . I was in good health!”
“That’s precisely the problem when it comes to this virus,” Doctor Gohr said. “Because you’re young, because you’re in good health, you have an extremely strong immune response. It creates a storm within the system, and this storm is overcoming you. You were non-responsive to every intervention your medical team tried.”
“So they sent for the Fallacore CT representative.”
“It was the only option left. We do have many support groups throughout Scrambled Lives for our perma-added characters. This can be a startling adjustment for those who arrive in the game unexpectedly. There are flyers in the waiting room with more information.”
“I’m adjusting,” Jenner said. “I just need to know how I can speed this up.”
Tap-tap. The doctor clucked at the information on his screen. “They’re using very old CT equipment at the hospital where your body is residing. ACT1, specifically. Scanning and mapping as complex a system as the human brain requires a great deal of computing power. You have three ACT1 neural nets doing what they can, but time is against them. Uploading with ACT1s is the work of weeks. Not recommended for someone in critical condition, but likely it’s all they have. Many hospitals are using the ACT2s these days, even ACT3s, but your hospital, unfortunately, isn’t one of them.”
Frustrated at this, and frightened at what would happen if his body died too soon, Jenner said, “Why don’t they have better equipment when it exists?”
The doctor looked at him with sympathy, though it felt offensively professional when this was Jenner’s life they were talking about. “Cost, I’d imagine. The ACT1 nets are cheap, older models. A single new ACT2 net costs close to twenty thousand dollars; an ACT3 much more than that. Would you happen to have money in the outer-world? You can have a proxy buy an ACT2 or ACT3 and have it placed upon your head in the hospital.”
Money. It always came back to money. “I don’t think I have much out there. I can visit the Fortune Islands every day, but will that money transfer to the outer-world?”
“Not at a rate in your favor. It’s preferable to convert outer-world money to inner-world money than the other way around. Do you have family? Friends? People to solicit for funds? They could buy a better net for you.”
“I . . . I can’t remember.” Mortified, Jenner said, “I can’t even remember my family.”
“It says in your file that you lived with your mother. Ruvina Roggio. Does that name ring a bell?”
He strained after memories, and came up with wisps that slipped between his fingers. “No. Doctor, how long do I have?”
Tap. Doctor Gohr shook his head. “I can’t give you a definite answer. You had a seizure yesterday, it says in the notes, and your heart stopped, but they were able to revive you. Your prognosis isn’t good. It could be in a couple of days; it could be a week or two at most; but your condition is worsening.”
That wasn’t enough time. There had to be a way, some way, to get the money. “Would it make that great of a difference?” Jenner asked. “Even just one or two ACT2 nets?”
Setting down the tablet upon his lap, the doctor said, “It would make a huge difference, perhaps the difference between life and death. The ACT2s have well over twice the computation speed of a new ACT1, and yours are far from new. Had you an ACT2 trio on your head since the beginning, I estimate you would be in the vicinity of 30-35% uploaded rather than 9%. If you had the new ACT3 nets working on your brain, you’d be closing in on the 75% threshold already. They’re a real leap forward in mapping technology, just incredibly fast.”
Someone knocked on the door. The nurse poked her head in. “Doctor? We have a shifter situation in Exam Room 5. Another freewheeler.”
“I’ll be right there,” the doctor promised as something roared from elsewhere in the clinic. The nurse closed the door and he sighed. “Freewheelers. It’ll have to be scrambled.”
Jenner didn’t care about whatever freewheelers were. “But . . . but what do I do, Doctor? What do others do when they’re in my situation?”
On the heels of the roar was a resounding crash. Standing up, Doctor Gohr rolled the stool to the corner. “They hope. They pray. A few of them do what they can to earn outer-world money. Some outer-world players are willing to pay real money for perma-added characters to do certain things for them in the game. The perma-added characters decide whether to convert that outer-world money to inner-world money, or to have it placed in an outer-world account under someone else’s management. Have you heard of the gladiator rings?”
Jenner leaped up. “I’m headed there after here!”
“Players protective of their characters don’t want to lose them in the rings, understandably. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up too much: low-level human perma-added characters aren’t their first choice for a substitute. You’ll need to shine up your combat skills fast and there are various ways of doing that.”
With his hand on the doorknob, the doctor hesitated to debate his next words. “Or you could enjoy the time you have left. Explore. Relax. Go to a support group. It’ll help.”
“Does it hurt?” Jenner asked in quiet horror. “Becoming soulless?”
Soberly, but again at a professional remove, the doctor said, “No. You as you are gone, and only your shell is left behind.”
With that, he quit the room.
“Fuck you,” Rosy mumbled. “Fuck you, Doctor Gohr.”
“He’s just doing his job,” Jenner said. “Charac
ter upload percentage?”
Permanent Character Addition
You are being uploaded to the game. Check in at any time for an update.
Current Upload: 9.1%
He could drink himself into a stupor at the brothel and dash out his silvers on a romp in the sack upstairs. He could wander the streets of Galadras, visiting all the shops and stuffing his face with food.
Or he could give this all he had. Give himself a chance.
Then he was outside.
And going to the gladiator rings.
Chapter Sixteen
Congrats! You have found the gladiator rings! Pay a penny to see the show!
Inner-World News: Like the Fortune Islands, the gladiator rings of Galadras have had many owners over the years. The now-disbanded House of Emmerlin the Strong, which held a fifty-percent share in the rings, used them to secretly train the warriors later used in the Nightstorm. Now the rings belong to the city, and the revenue is used for public works.
Inner-World News: Prisoners were once sent to the gladiator rings if their crimes did not merit immediate scrambling. Able to reduce their sentences, even win their freedom through a royal pardon, gladiators fought hard in single combat, doubles combat, and siege conditions. Bodacia the Viking famously defeated an army of trolls and received not only a royal pardon but a position on Queen Develia’s cabinet of advisors.
Fun Fact Time! How many Houses total are there in Talvenor? By most recent count, dwarf players have two, elves have three, humans have four, demons have five, shifters have eight, and wizards hold the record at an astonishing thirteen Houses! Wow! But don’t get too attached to those numbers . . . they might be very different tomorrow!
“Oh my God! OFF!” someone yelled behind Jenner. “I’ve never played a game with so many useless screens! Even Cloud Castle isn’t this bad with its millions of Polly Pegasus riddles.”
The line was long to Ring 3, which was the smallest of the gladiator rings, but moving quickly. This ring was the only one currently in operation. The largest was closed for repairs, and the middle was being outfitted for an obstacle course. Still, the smallest ring was so massive that the entire line was cast in shadow below the tall gray walls.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Rosy sniped at a staring player.
As everyone moved up, Jenner listened idly to the conversation going on at his back. A group of friends were talking about their spawn points: most came to in various inns located within the Rundown, and the rest were from other cities, towns, and villages in Talvenor. “Eweth,” one guy said. “It’s in the far northeast. Troll territory. Nobody leaves the village until they’ve learned how to shoot a bow as good as an elf, because trolls waylay travelers on Circovie Road all the time.”
Jenner thought about taking out his map to locate Circovie Road and Eweth, but then he reached the front. Taking a penny from his purse, he dropped it into a floating box dressed in an orange vest. He needed to ask where to go in order to get started as a gladiator-in-training, but the floating box wasn’t sentient.
Following after the train of players, he entered the stadium. Thousands of seats formed a circle around a sand pit below. Only a quarter of the seats were filled. Its eyes bulging in excitement, the cup cried, “Sit in the front! No, sit in the back! No, sit over there! No! What about over-”
“When you grow an ass, you can decide where we sit,” Jenner said. He wanted to sit close to the sand. The cup bounced gleefully on his shoulder.
Crossing over the sections, Jenner went down three flights of stairs and plopped in a seat on the aisle. He waved to a nearby vendor wearing the same orange vest that the floating box had on. The vendor came over and scooped two large helpings of buttery popcorn into a paper bag, giving it to him for a penny. Then he saw another orange-vested vendor selling corn dogs and sodas and bought from him as well.
Green-capped bookies spilled out of the entrances to the stadium, yelling, “Place your bets! Place your bets!” Hands went up from the audience.
A gambling token worth two silvers has appeared in your purse! See if you can guess the winner of the next match and rake in seven times the dough! Don’t try to save or trade it away: this token will disappear if not used immediately.
When Jenner dutifully investigated his purse, he came across a red token with the three gladiator rings imprinted upon both sides.
“Are you going to eat that, too?” Rosy inquired.
“Don’t be jealous,” Jenner chided. Even more vendors were passing by, selling cotton candy in pink and blue, caramel-dipped apples, mugs of ale and beef jerky and warm pretzels for rock-bottom prices. And it was free of caloric consequences! He was going to stuff his face as soon as he placed his bet.
He waved his red token in the air. A bookie immediately came down the stairs in his direction. Tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she said, “Welcome, new player!”
How had she known what he was? He answered his own question as soon as he thought it: the tokens must only be given out to new players in the game.
“Who are the gladiators?” he asked.
She gave a quick glance to the notepad in her hand. “Today’s first round is the troll two-on-one weapon-free division: Bloodspatter and Lord Crunch, a pair of male yellow-spotted Great Trolls, versus Faceplant, a Short Green male. The favorite is Bloodspatter and Lord Crunch for the win.”
Rosy burst into girlish giggles. “I love troll names! Bet on Bloodspatter and Lord Crunch!”
Jenner was trying pretty damn hard not to giggle himself. “No, how about Faceplant? Someone should bet on that poor guy. His own name is against him.”
The bookie traded his gambling token for a ticket. Stuffing it into his purse, Jenner pigged out on his treats while people filed into the stadium. Giant screens lifted into the air so that those seated in the nosebleed sections could see the action upon the sand more clearly.
“Who gives a shit how many Houses total there are in Talvenor?” someone screamed at the top of her lungs, and the stadium burst into raucous applause.
“I know, Rosy, I know,” Jenner said as he clapped. “It’s all important.”
“Oh, hell, I can’t keep the thirteen wizarding Houses straight,” Rosy allowed. “Tomorrow one might split into two or three, or a small one will be absorbed into a large one in a hostile takeover, or one will change its name for no reason but a new master flexing his or her wand-muscles. A few years ago, a whole House just vanished off the map and then another House tried to adopt the name and territory.”
“It vanished? How is that possible?”
“Nobody knows, but it was a scandal. As for the lowest-ranking wizarding Houses, they rise and fall so fast that they aren’t worth a mention in the daily news. You’ll drive yourself nuts trying to remember them.”
“What are the Houses for human players? Do you know those?”
“Of course I know them! What do you think I did in the mouse hole but listen to people flap their jaws endlessly about the world? House Armada has been the tippy-top for years, full of the finest human warriors and artisans and explorers you can find. Armada oversees a bunch of craft schools and combat schools and the guild is top-notch. Every human player wants to join Armada. Its roster is loaded with legends in the game: Davena Edelle, Kortor the Blade, Bloodheron. Those three became House Masters. I don’t know who the master is now.”
“House Armada,” Jenner said, committing the name to memory.
“Don’t get any ideas. They won’t take you for anything but a red-shirt in a raid, and probably not even that.”
Offended, Jenner cried, “Why not?”
“You’re a low-level player, kid! They don’t take any old asshole who turns up on the doorstep! You need to have something to offer. They’re the best because they only open their doors to the best, and you aren’t even safe once you’re in. If you aren’t reliable, if you don’t bring in money or artifacts, if you slack off on the required combat practice sessions, they s
trip your rank and kick you straight back out. The Palace of Light only accepts a small quota of guards from human players, but you’d better believe those humans are from Armada. Even the wizarding students had a begrudging respect for that House, and they don’t respect humans in general.”
Maybe Jenner would have a better chance with a different House for humans. “And the rest?”
The cup jumped down to his knee to grimace at him. “House Ondine and House Gherithe have their own schools and guilds and far more minor legends, but you don’t have a chance with them either, raid red-shirt aside. They still have some standards.”
“Fuck you, Rosy.”
“No thanks, Gramma, we’re not even the same species and I’m holding out for a BBT.”
“What in the hell is that?”
“A big beautiful teapot.”
“Funny.”
“Anyway, the last of the four is House Thorus, and you might have half a chance there. That House is a fucking joke, and so is everything it oversees.”
Jenner bristled at the cup’s low opinion of him. “Why is it a joke?”
Jumping away, Rosy hopped along the backs of the unoccupied seats in the row below Jenner. “House Thorus has big egos, low standards, and bad leadership. It used to be better, even out-ranking Armada, but that was a very long time ago. They’ve fallen apart since then. These days, they spend their time picking fights over turf with lower demon Houses and the other human Houses and whining when they get smashed. The High Council has sanctioned them repeatedly for black market sales and raiding in off-limits areas.”
“What’s considered off-limits?”
“How about the Royal Treasury on palace grounds? Those morons tried to raid it one night. The House was almost disbanded for that, and the House Master and upper leadership were scrambled. It’s probably better to be in no House than that one. They’re as bad as the demons.”
A flock of very small, very young dragons with sapphire scales flew over the sand pit as a short-cut to the seats across the stadium. The littlest dragon was no bigger than a human toddler. Forgetting its mission along the way, the dragonling swooped down to the sand to roll in it. The jumbo screens flicked on to show a close-up of the baby dragon squirming about in delight as the sand scratched its scales.
