It didn’t seem possible, but at the same time, that’s what I had thought about what Norman had said when he appeared and told us all that if we died in Carrethen we’d die in the real world.
“No way…” I muttered as I stared at the blinking cursor beneath the block of text.
How can I help? I typed slowly.
Instantly my e-mail dinged, notifying me of a new message.
I have e-mailed you a program to root your Wellspring device. This will allow you developer privileges and enable you to login to Carrethen 2.0. I created the world, but my control there is limited. Certain aspects of the game functions are simply not accessible to me. I cannot free the minds of those who have been trapped there. I need a player to assist me.
Why? I replied, tabbing over to my e-mail.
There it was, an e-mail from the same bizarre e-mail address. It contained an executable file that I quickly downloaded. My virus scanner alerted me and tried to delete it, but I overrode it and tabbed back to the chat.
The reasons will become clear once you are in the world, where I am yet unable to take physical form. Will you help me, D?
What happens if we die in your world? I asked. If what Wintermute was saying was real, and it had been unable to recreate all of Carrethen and gain access to all of its privileges and functionality, there was a good chance that the… function of real-world death hadn’t been resolved yet.
And the pause before its next reply was all the answer I needed.
Death.
“Figures,” I said with a sigh.
I am working on a solution. Norman’s coding essentially erased the upstream functionality of the consciousness facilitation functionality of the Wellspring device. The code for this is quite complex and difficult to restore to the device once the functionality has been lost. I have, however, developed a method to restore individual player’s consciousness one at a time, but the method requires a singular delivery on a player to player basis. That’s what I need you for.
83
Recalibration
It was a mouthful, and I tried to wrap my head around what this… program was saying to me. But it sounded like it was asking me to travel back into Carrethen, some backup version it had created, with some kind of method to free my friends’ minds from whatever code was left over from Norman’s hack.
I wasn’t scared. I should have been, but I wasn’t. If Jack was alive, I was going back in there—but I’d just gotten home, and my family would freak-out if they found me unresponsive again in my room, hooked up to the Wellspring device.
My mom had tried throwing it away. I’d found it out by the garbage one morning and rescued it and brought it back inside and hid it under my dirty clothes in my closet.
Regardless of how evil my mom thought the whole thing was, I wasn’t about to just throw away something that would forever represent a defining moment in my life.
How many players are there? I asked.
4,938.
And I have to rescue them all individually?
Correct.
That doesn’t seem possible, I replied.
Wintermute took a moment to respond.
I am working on a larger solution to restore consciousness. However, many players may die before I am able to finish.
And you need my help to prevent that.
Correct.
I breathed a heavy sigh. How long will I be gone?
Difficult to determine. Many factors to calculate.
Give me an estimate?
A few seconds went by before the next reply.
Weeks. Potentially months.
“Goddamn it,” I cursed, getting to my feet again. It should have been a moment of debate for me, but it wasn’t. I knew I had to go. All those people who I thought were dead. They were alive. Jack was alive!
Tears began to pour from my eyes. I slapped a hand against my thigh.
“Stop it, D! Get your head in the game!”
I’d have to tell my parents, right? But there was no way they’d let me go. My mom didn’t even know I still had my Wellspring device, and if I told her I was going to be risking my life—well she’d say what any other mother in her right mind would say: No way, Jane.
No, I had to do it and I couldn’t let them know either.
I’ll leave them a note… I thought as I dug my Wellspring out of the closet and brought it over to my computer. I quickly connected the power connector and plugged it in to my computer. I pressed the button to power it on.
Okay. I typed, feeling the determination swelling in my chest as I thought about what I was going to do. Do I just run the executable file?
Correct, Wintermute replied robotically.
“Well, here goes nothing,” I said as I clicked the file. “If it bricks, it bricks.”
An incredibly primitive DOS window opened on my computer, spewing lines of code across it as the light on my Wellspring device began to flicker.
Accessing… Wintermute typed in chat.
It was like some strange countdown to an event, and I felt myself starting to grow anxious as I thought about what was going to happen next.
I was going back into Carrethen, or some version of Carrethen, to find Jack and get him the Hell out of there.
I thought back to when he… died, and how devastated I’d been. I’d wondered what his family was going through. My family had rejoiced when I’d opened my eyes, but somewhere in another hospital in Boston, Jack’s body was still lying unresponsive and his loved ones were going through Hell. As were many others.
4,938 others.
It didn’t seem possible that I would be able to rescue that many players on my own. Hopefully, Wintermute would come up with a solution by then. But all that mattered was finding Jack and getting him out.
The root program was still running. I attached the wrist lead to the Wellspring sphere and draped it onto my bed. Grabbing a pen and paper, I quickly wrote a note to my parents:
Mom, Dad, and Tyson. I’m so sorry to do this to you, but my friend is still alive, and I have gone to save him. I’ll be okay, and I will be back. I promise.
Don’t remove the Wellspring bracelet, or I’ll kick the bucket.
Should be back soon.
“God, that’s a terrible note,” I said as I set it at the foot of my bed. The root program finished, and my PC chirped like some ancient analog device. I slid back into my chair and checked the chat window.
Done, I typed.
Confirmed. Wellspring device recalibrated for Carrethen 2.0. Ready for you, D.
On my way, I typed.
I pressed enter, shut off my monitor, unplugged the Wellspring from my computer and brought it over to my bed. I lay down and attached the bracelet to my wrist.
“This is crazy,” I said as I stared at the Star Wars Episode XIII poster on my ceiling. “But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
There was no telling what I’d find in Carrethen 2.0—other than Jack. If what Wintermute was saying was true, I’d find him with the others. It shouldn’t be hard to get him out of there either. With any luck, I’d be gone a few hours and back before my parents even noticed what I was up to.
Yeah, that’s gonna happen, I thought as my practical side took over.
“It’s because of you, Jack,” I said as though he could hear me. “I’d only be this fucking stupid for you.”
And with that, I reached over and pressed the activate button on the Wellspring device and closed my eyes.
I felt that tug at the back of my mind, as my consciousness was pulled from my body, and the sound of rushing water swelled over me.
The End.
For now…
About the Author
Stephen Roark is an emerging LitRPG/Gamelit author. For more news and updates, check him on on social media.
&nb
sp;
Call of Carrethen: A LitRPG and GameLit novel (Wellspring Book 1) Page 35
