by Anthea Sharp
Aran followed his friend through the increasingly crowded floor of the Expo Hall. Posters featuring Spark Jaxley kept catching his eye, especially that particular shade of magenta hair nobody could quite match. Plenty of gamers, both male and female, tried. One in ten people at the convention had some variation of pinkish-reddish hair.
But none of them were Spark.
Tomorrow, he reminded himself.
***
“Five minutes, Miss Jaxley,” the stage manager said.
Spark nodded from her position in the wings. For a few more minutes she could be just herself, a nervous seventeen-year-old standing in the shadows. The moment she stepped out under the lights, she’d be the sim queen, the celebrated gamer, the girl people loved, envied, and hated in equal measure.
In the early months of her fame, she’d read all her fan mail herself. Until the day she got the death threat, complete with gruesome details. It had shaken her. Not the gory descriptions, but that someone out there in the world loathed her so much they’d send all that negativity her way.
She probably still got horrible messages, but she had a secretary now who screened everything, only forwarding the real fan mail for her to answer.
On stage, the emcee began the VirtuMax introduction, talking about the search for a seamless virtual experience, the incredible talent who worked on the project, and the faerie-world inspiration behind Feyland.
If only they knew.
The game had connected to the actual Realm of Faerie in ways she didn’t quite understand. The lead programmer, a guy named Thomas Rimer, had drawn on old faerie lore and legends to create the content. And then, somehow, the realm had crossed over into reality. Tam and Jennet had tried to explain, but at a certain point there were no answers beyond one.
Magic.
“And now,” the emcee announced, “as part of an exclusive SimCon demo, please help me welcome Spark Jaxley!”
The crowd cheered, the noise raw and excited. A stagehand pressed a wireless mic into her palm, and Spark stepped onto the stage. The noise redoubled, and she let it wash over her. She couldn’t see faces beyond the blare of the lights, but she smiled as if she could.
“Hey, everybody,” she said into the mic. “It’s good to be here.”
She waited as the audience settled down. Not too far down, though; the theater still buzzed with a low hum of excitement. The premiere of the FullD system was the whole point of SimCon, after all.
She strode over to where the gleaming system sat, spot-lit in the center of the stage.
“Here it is,” she said. “The sim-system we’ve been waiting years for. VirtuMax’s FullD!”
More shouts and applause. She grinned at the invisible crowd.
“Want me to fire it up?” The noise rose in volume—but not enough. “Are you sure?”
The theater practically shook. Spark lowered her mic and swept her gaze across the barely visible packed seats, nodding. At last the frenzy subsided.
“I’ll give you a taste tonight of what the system can do, and show you highlights of Feyland. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a number of FullD systems on the floor for you all to try out.”
Not enough, of course, and the lines would be severely long. At least some of the convention-goers would get a chance to play. The ones that didn’t would just have to be content with an autographed picture.
Spark handed her mic to the emcee, then pulled on the gaming helm they’d wired into the theater display system. Even though the watching crowd wouldn’t be able to feel what she felt, they’d see and hear her gameplay; plus she’d do her best to narrate everything she was experiencing in-game.
She settled into the chair and loaded up the character creation screen of Feyland.
“Most of you are familiar with the types of characters here,” she said. “We’ve got casters, distance fighters, healers, melee classes—but a few new twists, too.”
With a couple of quick finger commands she called up her avatar, a magenta-haired character with pointed ears and a bow strapped to her back.
“This is the avatar I played in beta. She’s a Kitsune, with control over the elements and a few surprise talents.” Spark sent her character into Feyland, where she materialized in the familiar ring of mushrooms. “As you see, when you first enter the game, you’re in a clearing in the woods, surrounded by a faerie ring.”
She paused a moment, concentrating on the sensations.
“There’s a breeze—I can feel it against my cheeks. The moss underfoot is soft and springy, like walking on crash-test foam.”
That got a small laugh. Smiling, Spark stepped over the ring—pale mushrooms mixed with white-dotted red ones—and gestured to the path leading between the trees. “Following that path takes you to your first adventure. I’ll let you explore that part yourselves. No point in ruining all the surprises. For now, we’ll jump ahead to the city.”
She keyed in the command to take her to the next preset scene. After a quick fade to black, her character reappeared on the crest of a hill overlooking a city. White towers gleamed, colorful pennants flying over an orderly maze of cobbled streets. A high wall enclosed the buildings, and the glint of a lake at the far side of the city was just visible, the blue waters shining beneath the sun.
“The city of Stronghold,” she said. “Here you’ll find vendors, combat trainers, and a huge variety of quests that send you off to explore the many fantastical areas of Feyland.”
Though, hopefully, not to the Dark Court, where the merciless and lovely queen ruled, hungry for entry into the mortal world. Spark shivered at the memory of the queen’s sharp-edged smile. Quickly, she sent her character striding down the road and through the city gates.
Non-player characters, NPCs, thronged the streets, selling their wares: bunches of herbs and flowers, loaves of bread, shiny knives. One corner boasted a juggler, while another featured a yellow-haired girl playing the fiddle. Sounds and smells filled the air, and Spark did her best to describe the mix of fresh-baked bread, dust, and lavender.
“We’ll swing by the Lucky Tavern,” she said, cutting through an alleyway. “Always good to start your questing with a refreshing beverage.”
The crowd laughed at that, as they were supposed to.
Spark entered the tavern and ordered a tankard of ale. She took a swig, then set it with a clunk on the wooden bar.
“Doesn’t taste too bad, though nothing like real ale. Not that I’d know, being below the drinking age.” She made her character wink, and the crowd joined in her amusement. “I heard that in the early stages of development, everything in-game tasted like bananas. Compared to that, ale is divine. You can order fruit juice or water, too, if that’s more your speed. VirtuMax tries to cover all the bases—though I’ve yet to see an espresso stand in the city.”
“Maybe someone should start one up!” a guy called from the crowd.
“He’d get business,” Spark said. “Actually, one of the upcoming expansions includes an interactive life simulation, so if your dream is to become a shopkeeper in Stronghold, with a few adventures on the side, you can do that. Or you can just spend all your time killing monsters. Speaking of which…”
She activated the final demo sequence. Her character materialized at the edge of a lake. Sunlight sparkled off the silver-blue water, and behind her stretched a field of golden grain. In front of her, though, the earth was charred and barren, a blackened swath leading up to a tumbled pile of boulders that were obviously the lair of some dire creature.
“One of the interesting things about Feyland,” she said, sending her character toward the stones, “is that the fights change, depending on your characters and party members. If I were in a group with a heavily armored fighter and a caster, for example, I’d find a different monster waiting ahead. As it is, the fights are challenging, though not impossible.”
Unless the gamer stumbled into the Realm of Faerie. But her job was to make sure that didn’t happen.
“So, you’re on easy
mode?” some heckler called.
“No. I might die in this fight, which would be embarrassing.” The crowd chuckled along with her. “Just like in other games, dying is pretty inconvenient, and involves corpse-running. That is, taking time to run your ghost from the graveyard back to where you died, so you can reincorporate.”
She strode up to the very edge of the rocks and drew her bow from her back. Then, cautiously, she crept forward. Past the first outcropping lay an open area of bare ground, and behind it gaped the dark maw of a cave.
“It smells bad here—like charred hair and rotten meat. The developers had fun with the scent-scapes, though not everything is nasty in-game. I should have mentioned that the tavern smelled like wood smoke and baking bread.”
Something stirred in the back of the cave, and adrenaline spun through her. Quickly, she nocked an arrow and ducked for the partial cover of the granite boulder beside her.
With a scuttling rush, a creature charged into the clearing. Half lizard, half fighting rooster, it had the sharp-beaked head and nasty talons of a bird and a long, whip-like tail ending in a wicked spike. The whole hideous package stood over ten feet tall. It scanned the clearing and let out an angry shriek.
“Basilisk,” she said in a low voice. “Paralyzes for two seconds with its gaze, highly venomous bite, lethal tail spike.”
Spark’s focus tightened until she forgot she was in a demo game. The watching crowd faded until there was nothing but her character, and the fight.
Aiming for one of the creature’s yellow-crusted eyes, Spark let her arrow fly, then ducked back behind her boulder. The basilisk let out a squawk that sounded more annoyed than pain-filled. Damn, she’d missed. Which meant she now had a fully pissed-off bird looking to kill her.
She bent low and ran to a smaller tumble of rocks. Barely in time. The spike of the creature’s tail stabbed through the air where she’d just been. It was hard for her to take aim at the basilisk while avoiding its line of sight. She shot another arrow, this one landing in the joint of the creature’s leg.
Unfortunately, its lizard scales plated the basilisk in nearly impenetrable armor. She had to find its weak spots. There might be one behind its ankle, though with that sharp spur it wasn’t an easy target. Better than the eyes, though, which were going to be hard to reach unless she got a perfect shot.
A drop of venom splashed from the basilisk’s mouth, scorching the ground and sending up a waft of toxic smoke.
Spark tucked and rolled, coming up under the creature’s belly. Drawing her boot dagger, she slashed at the back of its ankle, above where the sharp spur jutted out. The blade slid harmlessly off the thick scales, and she had to fling herself to the side as the basilisk hissed and kicked out.
Okay, not vulnerable in the ankle.
Breath rasping in her throat, Spark darted back toward the cover of the rocks. A painful heat hit the back of her shoulders, and her steps slowed until she stood motionless, facing the solid granite, but not protected by it. The basilisk had caught her in its evil gaze.
Come on—move! She desperately tried to budge, but her character was frozen, helpless. Her heartbeat pulsed through her, quick and urgent. She could hear the basilisk approaching behind her, its steps unhurried. It knew it had her.
Except… it didn’t.
Spark called up her trump card, and the reason she’d picked a Kitsune to play in the first place. The scene in front of her shifted, the colors washing out, the sounds three times louder. She was dimly aware of the audience reaction as she morphed into fox form.
The basilisk was nearly upon her. She heard it halt and bend down, the snick of its beak opening as it prepared to give its venomous death bite.
Whirling, she gathered her four paws under her and leaped.
She landed on the back of the basilisk’s neck, where scales turned to feathers. Scrabbling for purchase, she forced herself closer to the top of its head. The creature shrieked and shook, trying to dislodge her. Droplets of burning venom singed her fur. She was slipping…
And then she was holding on, back in her human form, her dagger still in her hand. She raised it high and plunged it into the basilisk’s right eye. The blade entered with a liquid splat and the creature swayed.
Spark leaped free as the basilisk toppled to the ground, dead. Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears, but the familiar victory rush sang through her blood—fear turning to exhilaration in that curious, quicksilver alchemy she loved.
The watching crowd cheered, and Spark blinked herself back to reality. She wiped the sticky blade of her dagger and re-sheathed it, then pumped one fist high. The applause rose.
“There you have it,” she said. “A taste of Feyland. Did you like it?”
The audience responded with screams of approval as she logged out of the game and pulled off her helmet.
A strand of her hair was stuck to her cheek and she felt a trickle of perspiration drip down her neck. It was hot under the lights, and she was flushed with success. A tech handed her a bottle of water. She took a quick gulp, then strode to the front of the stage.
The watching faces were still smudges, and she wondered for a second where Aran was in the crowd.
“I don’t need to remind you to come early tomorrow,” she said. “The demo line will be long, and I’m sorry that not everyone will get a chance at the FullD. As a consolation, I’ll be at the VirtuMax booth signing autographs. Please stop by.”
“I’ll take your consolation any day!” a guy yelled, and the crowd laughed in agreement.
Spark smiled, but didn’t respond. She’d learned not to engage. Last year, she’d had a brief interplay with someone in the crowd who had then ended up stalking her for months. Not fun.
Pulsing music rose through the speakers and the lights flashed through the spectrum of colors. The show was over. Waving, she sent her gaze across the entire theater, then headed for the wings.
The soft shadows enfolded her, and Spark drew in a breath. That had been some good play, though half the crowd wouldn’t believe it hadn’t been scripted beforehand. She didn’t do well with scripts.
In the early days, VirtuMax had tried to run her through pre-planned scenarios. She’d hated them, and finally had insisted on playing live. It gave her the edge she needed, knowing that she could fail in front of everyone. And she had failed a couple of times—which just seemed to endear her even more to her fans.
“Great job, Miss Jaxley,” the emcee said, coming up and slapping her on the shoulder. “You going to any of the parties?”
“Not tonight. Big day tomorrow.”
She needed a shower, and some rest. Besides, the parties got old fast. It wasn’t her idea of a fun time, being surrounded by people who either were too tongue-tied to say anything or were doing their best to impress her, and making fools out of themselves in the process. None of it was genuine.
Longing for her friends in Crestview twisted through her. When she got back to her suite, she’d message Jennet and they could share some girl gossip. Maybe she’d even tell Jennet about meeting a cute guy today.
Spark smiled wryly at the thought. Everyone assumed being a star must be wonderful, but she was grateful for any bit of normalcy she could find in her crazy life.
CHAPTER FOUR
Clutching his large soda—his second of the morning—Aran showed his badge to the convention center guard in the booth.
“Aran Cole,” he said. “Early appointment with VirtuMax.”
He hoped Spark hadn’t forgotten to put him on the list.
Apparently she hadn’t, because the guard nodded and buzzed him into the eerily quiet convention center. Eight hours ago, the place had been humming with late-night energy and side parties. He and Bix, by virtue of their badges and official volunteer T-shirts, had been able to attend a fair number of gatherings.
At some point during the evening a woman dressed as a robo-enforcer, and her friend, a scantily clad warrior princess with a tongue as sharp as her blade, had hooked
up with them. They’d danced to old-school club music; heavy, bone-shaking beats that made the masked and be-sparkled creatures on the temporary dance floor seem as though they were all one big creature. A huge organism, with each fan comprising an individual cell.
Aran had tried a cup of weirdly-glowing blue punch, and hadn’t even finished it. He wasn’t much of a drinker, plus he wanted to be sharp the next morning. Bix got a little wilder, and Aran had to talk him out of going home with the robo-enforcer. As it was, they’d barely made the last train to Bix’s neighborhood. Aran had given him a boost through his bedroom window, then crawled into his own nest in the lightless back garage.
Now, Aran felt himself waking up as he walked between the still booths, making for the section marked off by VirtuMax. That part of the Expo Hall was anything but sleepy, as the techs got ready for the big demo day. They’d cordoned off spaces for lines to snake back and forth, in preparation for the huge influx of eager gamers. Aran couldn’t help feeling smug about his personal invite. Sure, he knew Spark was just being gracious—he was too smart to read anything into it, which was maybe why she’d invited him in the first place—but it still felt good.
He spotted Spark’s bright hair immediately, and veered over to where she was talking with one of the techs, a woman with a serious expression in her brown eyes.
“I agree, fifteen systems aren’t enough,” Spark was saying. “But it’s all we get. I don’t have that much pull with the company, as you know.” She turned to Aran with a smile. “Hi! Glad you made it. Aran, this is Vonda, our lead on the floor today. Vonda, if you have a system ready to go, I’ve got you a tester.”
Vonda nodded. “Over here.”
“Thanks,” Aran said.
He was torn between wanting to talk to Spark and diving into the FullD. Spark’s smile deepened.
“Go ahead. You can tell me what you think after you play.”
“I’ll do that,” Aran said.
He followed Vonda to where a gleaming FullD system sat, humming softly under the bright lights. She handed him a helmet and gloves.
