Extropia

by Robin Bootle

  What on earth was the Great Black? he wondered. It seemed too empty to be part of a quest, too lacking in structure. Random wanderings in a dark space didn’t make for a good game. But a character as grand as the Skylar must have had a purpose. ‘Ivandell,’ he said, still peering into the darkness, ‘has anyone ever seen the Skylar?’

  ‘Not that I know of. But it is interesting that you should ask; it was just a mile from here that he came to me.’

  He felt compelled to stop. Something was nagging at the back of his mind but he couldn’t bring it into focus. A thought: this was the Skylar’s realm, and the Skylar was clearly meant to be an ally, even if indirectly. So should he be trying to communicate with him? If so, how? Did he have to fall asleep nearby, like Ivandell had? It seemed a challenging thing to ask a player to do.

  Ivandell had said that if Edward were to enter the Great Black it would kill him. But surely any area in a game was meant to be explored, meant to be conquered, with some reward given at the end of the challenge. It was true that sometimes the player wasn’t able to enter certain areas from the very beginning – he needed to be stronger somehow, or wear some kind of protective armour. So how then could he communicate with the Skylar?

  The next thought came to him so plain and obvious that he slapped himself on the forehead. You are the son of the Skylar. If the Skylar can exist there, then why not you?

  He couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities: the son of the Skylar enters the Great Black, meets the Skylar, and is gifted with some kind of divine magic with which to defeat Dēofol and his soldiers.

  He glanced to check that both Ivandell and Elizabeth weren’t watching. They were walking apart from each other, focusing on the ground at their feet. He snuck away towards the Great Black. In every direction it encompassed his vision, its mere presence making him feel strangely dizzy, like he could fall off the edge of the world and tumble forever. With a bracing breath he lifted his finger.

  ‘Edward, no!’ cried Elizabeth.

  ‘I have to try it!’ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her rushing towards him, and he hesitated.

  ‘Come away from there!’ Ivandell reached him first and yanked at his arm.

  ‘There’s something here.’ He glanced at Elizabeth. ‘I’m certain. There’s some kind of clue inside.’

  ‘Edward, you must not gaze so openly into the Black!’ screamed Ivandell. ‘This is the realm of the Skylar!’

  Something moved up ahead in the darkness. At first, he took it for another bolt of electric light. But it was smaller, brighter. And its form was more defined. An ellipse.

  And by the Skylar, thought Edward, it’s actually moving. Towards us. He turned to Ivandell. ‘Do you see it?’

  Ivandell’s answer didn’t come in the form of words. He dropped to his knees with hands clasped together, his eyes closed and his lips muttering in prayer.

  ‘When you were here, Ivandell, what exactly did the Skylar say to you?’ Edward asked. Whatever clues Ivandell had stored in his head regarding the Skylar, he needed them, and fast.

  ‘That if a young boy should arrive in this world, whose brother is held in the prison of Hawkshead, then this is the boy, this is his son,’ replied Ivandell, his words erratic, his eyes still shut. ‘This is the boy from the prophecy and I must help him rescue his brother!’

  ‘And when exactly did this happen?’

  ‘A year ago, when I was returning from the mountains!’

  The boy. The brother. The prison of Hawkshead. Ivandell’s words replayed quickly in his head. ‘Oh my God,’ he whispered, and he turned with a gaping jaw towards the approaching ellipse.

  He couldn’t believe it. He checked his logic again, then again. But there could be no alternative. ‘The Skylar wouldn’t have mentioned anything about rescuing someone in Hawkshead prison – that can’t have been an original quest in the game.’ He looked at Elizabeth, scarcely able to wait for her to work it out. ‘The Skylar told Ivandell to help me find my brother, but how could the Skylar know that James and I are brothers?’ Slowly, the realisation washed over her, just like it had for Edward only an instant before. ‘The message must have come from my father. My Dad is in there, in the Great Black! My father really is the Skylar!’

  ‘But… but how?’ she spluttered, his excitement contagious.

  ‘I don’t know how but it’s the only thing that makes any sense. That’s why no one has seen him. That’s why his screen is blank! I have to go in!’

  ‘Edward! Only the Skylar can enter! You may be his son, but you are made mortal, encased in flesh. It will kill you!’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’ He was trying hard not to talk about the game in front of Ivandell, but somehow Elizabeth needed to know what he was thinking. ‘In some parts, impassable mountains and turquoise oceans border the land, but not here. It’s almost like the Skylar, my father, never finished creating Extropia.’

  Her confused frown turned to a knowing look. ‘This is the end of the map, as it were.’

  He nodded. And in a flash of absolute certainty, he thrust his finger into the Black.

  ‘Edward, no!’ screamed Ivandell.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Elizabeth was watching his finger. It was distorting, like it was being tugged in every direction, the skin warping into impossible positions as though even the bone itself was made of gel. ‘Doesn’t it hurt?’

  He shook his head, unable to peel away his eyes. It didn’t hurt, but the sight of his finger being gnarled by some invisible force was making his stomach turn. ‘We’re not from Extropia, Elizabeth. If my father can survive here, then why not me too?’

  A minute later his finger was still intact. As he withdrew it, it snapped back into shape. He felt it with the fingers on his other hand. It seemed fine, the skin as it should be, even down to the tiniest crinkle or groove.

  ‘Truly, you are the one.’ Ivandell was gazing at him in awe.

  As the ellipse drew near, Edward’s excitement waned. His stomach and his chest seized up in a tangle of nerves. His father was right before him, he was certain. But which father? The father he knew before Mum died? Or the one that followed?

  He placed his finger back in, gradually going further until his whole hand, and then his arm were inside, all the way up to his shoulder. The sleeve of his robe rippled like a reflection in water. He held his breath like he was about to plunge himself into a lake. No one was telling him to stop any more, so he kept on. He lifted his left foot, and slowly passed it through to the other side.

  His ears crossed over, at once filling his head with a deep, blustering fizz, like the distorted sound of a howling gale. The winds seemed to be attacking his body, tearing at his flesh and pulling him in every direction. He looked down, and his head spun. Beneath his feet was only empty darkness as if he was floating in space itself. When he looked back into Extropia, Elizabeth and Ivandell were also warped, their images corrupted by the void.

  The elliptical light, like the blinding white iris of a cat, whooshed into his vision and halted abruptly only five yards away, so smooth and robotic in its movement, so symmetrical in its form. It was vast, twenty feet tall and five feet wide and deep. All of a sudden he felt like such a fool; this was nothing more than a computer character that would smite him down for trespassing on its heavenly space.

  But then a voice boomed in his head, distorted but unmistakable, and all the regret and longing of the past year channelled achingly into his sinuses and seized up his throat.

  ‘Oh, Edward, can it really be you?’

  All the things Edward had dreamt of saying for the past year vanished from his mind. He wished he’d spent the past days rehearsing the perfect words. To say that he loved his father, to say that he was sorry. But all of a sudden sorry didn’t seem enough. ‘What happened to you?’ he croaked as he finally managed to lower his hands. What happened t
o you? he repeated in his head. After all this time?

  ‘Edward,’ the ellipse’s voice lingered on each syllable as if it were music to his ears. ‘I never thought I’d see you again.’

  For a moment, they stood apart, the fizzing of the void filling the silence, and Edward feared that was all they would manage to say to each other.

  ‘Not a day has passed,’ said his father’s ellipse, ‘that I haven’t thought what it must have been like for you to lose us, to be left alone. If only I could take it back.’

  ‘It wasn’t easy. I…’ Edward stopped himself. To admit the truth would only add to Dad’s guilt. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked. ‘Did Vanderboom do this to you?’

  ‘I’m certain. He would have gotten to James too, if I hadn’t insisted on monitoring the test from the outside. I watched James arrive, safely, but then…’ The ellipse drifted closer. ‘Maybe it’s easier if I show you. Brace yourself.’

  Edward reached out his hand. As it entered into the light his whole body jarred. His eyes were forced shut. He was back in the attic. Only his hands were not his own, but his father’s. He heard himself tell Vanderboom the password, and he watched Vanderboom jump.

  It only took seconds for Vanderboom to pounce, wrestling the Tartarus Stone from James’s hands and knocking him unconscious.

  Dad raced into his own port. The SenseGel rose up his legs and covered his head. He closed his eyes and thought, Windermere, one seven, zero four. The jump into Extropia began. In a daze he thought he’d arrived in the hut. But before the jump was complete, he saw the oak bar swinging and his head exploded in pain. He came to, surrounded by darkness.

  ‘I believe that by knocking me out whilst still inside the portal,’ Dad continued aloud, ‘Vanderboom prevented me from completing the jump, leaving me trapped between worlds. An even better outcome than Vanderboom had intended, I’m certain.’

  Edward pulled his hand away from the light, his stomach wrenching at the thought of Vanderboom’s betrayal. ‘And you’ve been trapped here ever since?’

  Dad didn’t reply; his silence was all the answer required.

  Again, Edward wanted to say he was sorry, to say he loved him, but now he knew why he couldn’t. There was still something he needed to ask. ‘Dad, I spent all that time pushing you away, ignoring this thing you were building. But now I need to know.’ He hesitated, afraid of the answer that would follow. ‘None of this would ever have happened if you couldn’t get hurt inside the game.’

  Dad’s light drifted closer. ‘I lost sight, Edward, of what might happen. I had a vision. I believed I could change the world for the better. But Vanderboom wasn’t interested. He wanted something bigger. Somewhere people could live. And before I knew it, my vision was blinded in a haze of deadlines and pressure.’

  Edward shook his head, trying to subdue his anger. But he couldn’t. ‘James is out there, Dad! Dying!’

  Dad didn’t reply again, and Edward regretted raising his voice. Dad would already be fragile enough after a year spent alone in darkness. The last thing he needed was Edward’s anger. ‘Dad,’ he started, ‘I’m sorry. I…’

  He jumped as something passed his shoulder. A barely visible, dark brown, shadowy figure. It had arms and legs but its form was indistinct, as if it was partially merged with the Black. Where its eyes should have been was only darkness. ‘What the hell is that?’

  ‘I’ve come to think of them as souls. Beings that could not cope with the misery I have thrust upon them. They come here to die. They won’t like your being here. You remind them of what it is to be alive. So I must say what must be said while there is still time. I have to warn you, son, that I have seen Vanderboom, coming and going between Extropia and home. I see fragments of his communication as it passes between worlds.’ Dad groaned. ‘Oh, Edward, I’m so sorry you came. Vanderboom is laying a trap! Please, Edward, go back to the hut. Wait there while your friends rescue James.’

  ‘No, I won’t hide like a coward while they risk their lives. I’m going to save James. James will know how to help you.’

  ‘Please, Edward, I’m begging you! James has suffered so much already. I couldn’t bear for the same to happen to you.’

  An arm whipped out of the darkness. Murky, hooked fingers stretched for Edward’s face. White energy jabbed from Dad’s ellipse, puffing the soul into glittering pixels that dissipated into the void.

  But now more souls were drifting towards him. ‘We disturb their peace, Edward. You must go before their numbers grow too strong.’ The light dashed forward, smothering him.

  A feeling of warmth enveloped him. Like his father was right there, in his mind. But there was something else, something like fear. After everything he had done, did his father fear him?

  ‘Walk with me, Edward. Stay inside my light. I will guide you out.’

  But Edward didn’t want to go. He would stand there for eternity alone in the darkness with his father if that was what it would take to build the courage to say all the things that had been unsaid, to convey the feelings that still filled the dark abyss of regret that surrounded them.

  Why can’t you come with me?

  ‘I’m sorry, my son, but you must go. I promise, I will see you again.’

  The warmth turned cold. The blanket stung him, shocking him to his senses. Again, he could see his father’s mind. Dad was afraid. Not afraid for himself but afraid for Edward. Dad could manage the souls. They couldn’t harm him. But he couldn’t hold them back from Edward indefinitely.

  Beyond the Black, the others were waiting, beckoning him on. ‘Come on back, Edward.’ Elizabeth’s words were distorted and electronic.

  ‘Please, Edward,’ cried Dad, ‘I beg you, stay away from Vanderboom!’

  Edward stepped back into Extropia, disconnecting from his father like a baby expelled from the womb. And at once he felt alone again, just like he had all year. He looked back at his father, hovering like some strange alien being. ‘I…’ He hesitated. Why couldn’t he bring himself to say how he truly felt? ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said, and stepped remorsefully away.

  16

  Hawkshead

  Edward lifted his leg over the fence stile and for a moment he just sat there, unsure if there was any point in going on. Dad was stuck in some terrifying netherworld, and for all he knew, James might already be dead. And even if by some miracle they were to reach him, then Vanderboom had some kind of trap waiting.

  He thought back to how Dēofol had allowed James to reach them at the NCCU, to call for help moments after Edward had returned from VirtuaWorld. After their meeting, Vanderboom had probably been unconvinced that he would enter Extropia, and given Dēofol the order to stab James. A little nudge, just to make sure.

  The bloody bastard, he thought, and he slipped down into the field. Now that he knew Vanderboom was inside Extropia, the chance of getting his hands on him was all the motivation he needed.

  He distracted himself by again practising magic, this time with something heavier than a leaf. He lifted a stone and flung it off into the field. He doubled over, all the energy sucked into a ball of pain in his gut like someone had kicked him below the waist.

  So the heavier the item, the more magic was required, he figured.

  When the pain had subsided, he counted to three, bracing himself. Off flew another stone. The pain came, but less this time. And so he kept on, again and again, knowing each stone was making him stronger. It’s only a matter of time until you’re strong enough to tear Vanderboom to pieces, he told himself, and a renewed energy filled his legs.

  Next he would try without his staff. He knew already from his prison break that a staff wasn’t necessary for magic, but then what was the point of it? His staff hooked onto his back, he focused on a smooth white pebble. It lifted easily and whizzed off into the field. The nausea came and he dropped to one knee, choking and s
pitting. He tried to push himself up, but his elbow buckled and his face slammed into the dirt.

  Note to self: not using a staff significantly increases recovery time, he thought, as finally Elizabeth and Ivandell noticed him on the floor and hurried over to check he was okay.

  ‘It’s just my magic,’ he explained, embarrassed as he rubbed the dirt off his robes. ‘It makes me sick.’

  ‘Could you lift a rabbit and land it in your hands?’ asked Ivandell. ‘Now that would be a useful trick.’

  Edward looked about, studying the grass near the hedges, eager to take up Ivandell’s challenge.

  ‘There!’ Elizabeth pointed some way off towards the corner of the field.

  He followed the line of her finger but couldn’t make out her intended target. Instead, his eyes settled on something on the horizon. A leaning tower of black smoke to the northeast. ‘Ivandell, what’s that?’

  Ivandell sighed and turned away, without so much as a glance towards the smoke. ‘Perhaps we can wait for our next meal. I have lost my appetite.’

  ‘Ivandell?’ Edward asked, wondering what he’d said to upset him.

  ‘It is what remains of the village of Ravenglass, once the largest of the Circle. It was the last stronghold of resistance against the invading armies. For two weeks we fought back.’

  ‘We?’ Edward skipped to catch up. ‘You were there?’

  ‘I was. One of few survivors. All that remains are burning ruins, constantly fuelled as a reminder of what happens to those who make a stand. Nearly every man and woman was killed.’ Ivandell looked away, wiping his forearm across his brow. His voice choked up. ‘Only the children were spared and forced to walk the hundred miles to the dungeons of Sun City.’

  A shudder of undeserved emotion ran through Edward. Was it guilt? Or was it the shame of knowing that his father had created such suffering? He shook his head, filling his lungs and for a few seconds holding in the air. It isn’t real, he reminded himself. Just an instinctive response at seeing a grown man with tears in his eyes. ‘Is that where they hold your son?’