by Jay Smith
"Good catch. What's up, gentlemen?"
"Well, I'm afraid I have some bad news, sir. You want to go have a seat somewhere?" I had seen the way police deliver bad news on television and only the circumstances made me confident this was how Brask was winding up.
"Is this about Carla? I know she's dead."
"You do?" Brask was surprised. Gannon didn't react at all. "Did you see it in the news?"
"No. Detective Hinkle told me this morning. He said he was looking into her murder."
"Detective…Hinkle?"
"Yeah. I've talked to him twice so far. Once after I hit the jackpot and today. He said he thought she overdosed in her apartment and wanted to know what I know. I'll tell you the same thing…I was in Pennsylvania when he said it happened."
Brask put his hand on a light post. My tail from the diner passed us and kept walking, looking back only as he crossed the street to the hotel. Brask and his partner shared a look of confusion or concern, maybe both.
"You're sure about who contacted you?"
I fished his card out of my wallet and handed it over. Brask handed it to his partner.
For the moment, they seemed confused and unable to tell me why. Officer Gannon walked past me toward their cruiser while Brask put his hand on his gun belt and shifted back and forth on his heels. "Ms. Baron-Gugino didn't die of a drug overdose, sir. She was stabbed and strangled. We've got the killer in custody. He was the same man who was with you when we met. He was out on bail."
"How did…wait…what?"
"She was taking a smoke break outside a strip club when she was attacked."
"That…" I felt a little off-center at first. Then then Vegas turned into a roulette wheel around me.
"Mr. Casey?" Brask took me by the arm and helped me to the hot sidewalk. "Easy there, Winston. Can you hear me?"
"Y-yeah."
"Did Detective Hinkle tell you she was killed in her apartment?"
"Y-yes. He thought I had something to do with it."
"Do you need medical attention? Let's get you in the cool, okay? Can you move?"
"Just – just need water."
~
They led me back to the diner and I drank water. Brask stayed with me for a while, but he didn't provide anything illuminating about Hinkle except to tell me to call him or 911 immediately if he appeared again.
"He's not a real detective?"
"Well, he was," Brask answered. "But he retired five years ago, and had nothing to do with this case. Let us handle that. How are you feeling?"
"Carla was stabbed and strangled. I mean, she's still as dead as when I was told but…it makes no sense."
"We have the guy who did it. He didn't know you. Carla owed him money. The suspect says she tried to shoot him and he murdered her in self-defense. We only found her because someone called in a tip to us. Officers found her in a garbage truck heading for the desert."
"How do you know who did it?"
"I went back to the last people to see her. You were next on the list, but we got a confession. Right away."
I nodded. Was it more likely that Officer Brask was a plant or that Detective Hinkle was one? That Hinkle knew the exact content of the video. That the voice behind Eris had the video to show. And what about Carla? She was in the video.
Another fiction. A fake snuff film, shown once to avoid close scrutiny. She was in on that part.
But then they had to get rid of her. Or maybe they realized they had to after the fact.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket throughout the experience. I ignored it. I kept watch for suspicious eyes from outside the diner window or at the door. I got played on different levels because I believed people were real in a place that functioned by everyone playing a role, living a lie.
Brask and his partner walked me back to the hotel and we parted ways. They didn't confirm what I thought, though Brask said they were "looking into" Hinkle's status and maybe he was a private investigator on the hotel's payroll. But that didn't excuse him from claiming to be a law enforcement officer.
It was time to figure out what these fuckers wanted so bad.
~
The first text of the morning wasn't from Ezrin, Jimmy, Nadeim or even Jean-Paul.
It was Claire.
WHY ARE POLICE ASKING ME ABOUT CARLA GUGINO??? WHERE ARE YOU?? WE NEED TO TALK NOW. WORK CALLED AND SAID NOT TO COME IN AND THEY WILL MAIL YOU FINAL CHECK?!?! LAWYER UPSET AND METER IS RUNNING. WTF IS GOING ON, WINSTON? IF YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK TO ME SEND YOUR LAWYER'S NUMBER AND GROW UP AND DEAL WITH THIS LIKE A MAN. – C
I deleted the dozen calls from Claire and the four from her attorney. I don't know why but it didn't seem important to me.
PART SIX
Aeternus In-World
Day of Ffrid's Feast
"This nation rose from the bog as a collection of the lost and discarded. Its anthem is the grateful noise of those we lifted from slavery and darkness. Its mission is to shine a light across the world and give others purpose and power. Such is the promise of Aeternus!"
- General Parque (Aeternus Alive!, Bathorian Books, 2010)
Chapter Twenty-Three
Log in.
I spent my youth imagining a black square was a mighty adventurer controlled by a plastic joystick and a single red button. The vast resources of the game allowed me to choose exactly how my avatar would appear in-world down to the freckle. Some gamers enjoy the opportunity to craft an entire character that way. They'll spend hours crafting their appearance, more time than they would spend on their real selves across a lifetime. Others would buy shapes and skins "off the rack" at the digital store if they lacked the skill or patience to do it themselves.
Once in-world, all the major battlegrounds and cities from the books leap off the screen. Having battled my way through the first four books, my pace slowed in the fifth and sixth. Into the first years of the 21st century, the Aeternus series became more tangled up in a cast of dozens with plots spanning the known world. Generations of back story led to short contemporary outcomes in the current timeline. Reviews showed a drop in favor except among the author's fans. Publisher's Monthly, the New York Book Review and other standard-bearers for popular fiction were delicate in their criticisms as if they knew this was the natural order of epic fantasy and eventually the series would collapse under its own weight through no fault of the author.
All those details appeared in a Google Earth style depiction of the known Aeternus universe. Small patches of black indicated unexplored grids in the known world and vast sections of the globe remained shrouded in darkness as the world yet to be explored.
I dove into the world from space, the ground rising to meet me somewhere outside the capital city. My avatar spawned at a livery where I kept my three horses. I loaded a mare called Sassifron with enough gear for a long ride, paid the manager for some additional supplies and rode out toward Lord Parque's estate.
~
I rode into Parquesmoor with the sun going down behind me. I crossed the Walpole River and prepared to show my credentials to a highwayman at the toll house. It was empty. The gate stood raised so I pushed my horse onward toward the manor house.
By a complete misunderstanding of game scale, I miscalculated the distance from the border to the village of Everfair. It took three hours to cross the farmlands and circle a forest to reach town. In the meantime, I fought and killed two highway robbers and a random Nightwarg who wanted to eat my horse. I arrived a hundred experience points richer and two hours later than I expected. I could have automated the journey and used the time to learn more about in-world concepts, but I wanted to get used to the controls and flow of the game. Long journeys are tedious things and most players automate to skip ahead through to the next adventure. I made a note to do this for the ride back home.
At that late hour, only the town constable and a few hearty drunks could be seen in the streets. Despite what I'd read of Everfair, there were no watchmen to be seen in the towers at the gate or alon
g the town wall. I rode right in without raising any suspicion. I stopped the constable who crossed my path. He wasn't concerned with who I was or my purpose in Everfair. He kept the same dumb stare and twirled a red moustache as we spoke.
…or rather, as I typed my questions and read his text replies.
How far is Parquesmoor Manse from here?
"Parquesmoor Manse is a short ride north from here, sir!"
How short a ride is it?
"How short a ride is what?"
How long will it take to ride to Parquesmorr Manse?
"I do no not know a 'Parquesmorr Manse'. Perhaps you mean 'Parquesmoor Manse'?"
Jesus Christ, I thought. This AI is frustrating. Like ZORK frustrating.
Yes.
"It is good to be so positive, sir. This town can become violent and tragic in short order, sir. Be careful where you tie up your horse!!"
What the hell? I asked the question again, correctly spelled.
"By foot, it is one hour. On horse, it is ten minutes. Beware sir. The lateness of the hour makes the open road dangerous. Perhaps you will want a room at our hotel?"
How do I get to Parquesmoor Manse from here?
"Would you like a Landmark? y/n? (Constable Clivoris offers you a Landmark to 'Parquesmoor Manse')"
Y.
(YOU HAVE ACCEPTED A LANDMARK FROM CONSTABLE CLIVORIS.)
The Landmark displayed a winding road from town headed north-northeast. At the bottom, a hyperlink askedBEGIN AUTOMATED JOURNEY IN CURRENT TRANSPORT? (1-2 random encounters expected.)
I clicked CANCEL to close the window and return to the conversation.
"I am Lord Wynncase," I told the constable.
"It is good to meet you. I am Constable Clivoris. If you are a law-abiding citizen, we will get along. If not, we won't."
Who am I?
"You are Lord Wynncase. Do you not know who you are?"
I don't know if I expected more from the artificial intelligence of these characters, but they offered no continuity or ability to learn from encounter to encounter. They made the town look busy. I ended our conversation and the constable wandered off down Main Street. My Book informed me there were no live people to talk to in range, but fifteen artificials. Each of them would offer the same scintillating conversation. I could trade goods, refuel my tired avatar with food and sleep at a nearby inn, or seek out a random adventure in the alleys and magic shops of town. None of those things seemed appealing compared to getting out to the Mansion.
I opened the Landmark and clicked the link to jump ahead in time fifteen minutes. My world faded to black for a second after which I was informed that I encountered a "random ghast" on the road and lost ten percent of my Health before managing to outride it. Apparently, I didn't have any weapons, magical or otherwise, to effectively battle it. I made a note to learn more about supernatural adversaries and clicked the link to continue to the manor house.
Parque's mansion sat atop a shallow hill giving it impressive trail appeal. It was too dark to see anything but the mansion itself lit by the fires of watchmen at the surrounding wall. Like Everfair, they did not react to my appearance or my approach to the main gate. Something moved below in the moat as I approached the draw bridge, something with big red eyes and probably a little more dangerous than a Lizard Warrior. At the gate, I attracted the attention of both guards. They greeted me with raised battle hammers until I remembered to activate the Group Tag identifying me as owner of the estate. I wondered if that might have changed things back in Everfair because the guardsman's IQ seemed to jump a few dozen points when the connection was made and gave voice to the characters around me.
"My Lord! Welcome to Parquesmoor! We've been expecting you! Do come in!"
~
Exploring Parker's office was something anyone with access to the Manor could do. The Head of Household appeared in the doorway to ask me about changing the preferences on the manor. The H-o-H utilized a more complex intelligence engine than even other members of the household. A Turing Rating of 76 meant it would pass 76 of 100 casual user interactions. While not perfect, talking to an H-o-H should feel like talking with someone of average human intellect but who reads English with limited proficiency.
"To use voice recognition, please activate the Voice toggle on your taskbar."
I did this. A small red light flashed next to the REC indicator on my task bar. "Testing, one...one two..."
"Hello, milord. It is good to hear your voice." he sounded like a generic English butler; nasal-dental in diction with a musical groan to it that sounded both submissive and arrogant. Also, electronic.
I noticed its name: Damon Deucedrop, which made me laugh because it was the nickname we called the gym teacher – Dennis Dewdrop – Parker hated in high school. The H-o-H was tall, fat, and looked like a boxer at the end of a twenty-year career; bald, with a face slightly scrambled and heavily scarred. I wondered if Park mapped an old photo to the avatar's head.
"Damon, who has access to this manor?"
"Only members of the Manor Group List may enter The Manor. Would you like to read the Land Covenant for more information?"
"Yes, please."
A text document opened to one side of my screen outlining the rules and regulations covering land ownership and use.
"Damon, show me a list of approved visitors to the Manor and a guest log."
Another text document appeared. Because the interface doesn't permit saving these documents to the local hard drive, I copied and pasted the data from each into a Word file to read later. The originals automatically appeared in my game inventory.
"Would you like to discuss tax and industry preferences for the estate, Lord Wynncase?"
"Ask me again tomorrow, Damon."
"As you wish, milord. Will you be keeping the existing staff or would you like to cancel the memberships of all in the Servant subdirectory of the Group? Please note you may delete members individually from the Group Maintenance Interface at any time."
"Keep them, Damon."
"Very good, milord. You appear to be searching for something. May I assist you?"
The question might have been the result of the AI's tracking of my series of clicks on different items as he spoke, but I was just paranoid enough to wonder about the question. Yes, he was a servant AI designed to assist new players as well as experienced ones, but something about the timing of the question bothered me.
"Can you locate the secret hiding places in this room?"
The rhythm of Damon's replies was consistent up to that moment. It might have been lag in the system or the nature of the question that caused a slight delay in his reply. "You must activate the appropriate Group flag for that information."
"What is the appropriate group flag, Damon?"
"Parque Elite Membership."
I checked my personal inventory containing every membership and access code assigned to me. If all of Parker's roles were transferred, it would appear in my membership list. It did not. After asking where I could find it, Damon confirmed it would be where I already looked.
"Elite Memberships created by a player are deleted when a player is made inactive or permanently deceased unless the Membership is willed to another upon termination of the first. No Member-created group ownerships may be transferred between active characters. All members are notified of this change when it occurs."
"What is the status of the Parque Elite Group?"
"Pending acceptance of inventory by Lord Wynncase [you]. To accept inventory, please review estate preferences."
"This is why I hated Zork."
"'Zork' was a pioneer in many ways, milord. If not for that game this game would not exist."
"Damon, show me the estate inventory list." I copied and pasted the contents into an Excel spreadsheet to help sort its value, rarity, function and other history. "What inventory has been willed to me?" Another document.
"Milord, would you like to accept the inventory pending transfer to your account? This in
ventory is marked for transfer from Lord Parque."
"Yes. Please."
The transfer took about a minute.
PRIVATE MESSAGE FROM EZRIN ZORR. OPEN?
Ezrin's avatar appeared as a ghostly image beside me in Parque's study. "Where the hell are you?"
"Parquesmoor," I replied.
"Idiot. Four Level 20s are coming after you. Knights. Get the hell out of there and hide in the western forests. I'll send you a map to a Safe House three miles west. Go before it gets too dark and you get lost."
"Milord, I have an intelligence report from the field. Our watchmen have spotted four riders in Everfair who have asked about you in the local tavern."
"Who are the riders?"
"They are Knights of The Realm. Nothing more is known at this time. Do you wish to track them?"
"Yes. Order the guards to close the gates and prevent anyone from entering without my consent."
"Milord, we cannot bar Knights of the Realm from entering if they come on order of Lord Bunting-upon-Stropf."
I sat back in my chair and wondered who was coming for me. A message window popped into view.
LORD PARQUE'S GHOST HAS ACCEPTED YOUR FRIENDSHIP.
LORD PARQUE'S GHOST IS ONLINE.
Damon said, "Lord Parque will see you now."
"What does that mean?"
I PMed Ezrin, "The inventory I just accepted included an auto Friend Request and I was just informed there's a Ghost in the manor. Parque."
She didn't reply.
"Milord," Damon announced. "The use of a powerful magick has been detected in the area. The guards have been put to sleep. Please follow me to the Safe Room."
"I can't hide from this."
"You will, sir. Lord Parque's Ghost demands it. Come with me."
I followed Damon through the house and down a stone staircase into a basement. At the bottom, a door opened up into a black square. Text overlay read:"THIS IS A SECURE CHANNEL ROOM. PROCEED TO HOLOGRAPHY LAB NUMBER 4 TO CONTINUE."
"Milord, Lord Parque's Ghost demands you bring the Purple Testicle with you."
