by Michael Ryan
Her father, the king, entered the war room. He approached with a regal gait and stopped in front of her. Looking her in the eyes, he tilted his head towards her and air-kissed both cheeks. “Rohini, how are preparations coming?”
“They’re fine, Father,” she answered. She smelled beer on his breath. “I’ve decided where I want to hide the jewel. I’d like your opinion.”
He held up his hand. “No. Don’t tell me.”
“Father, do you really fear being taken as a hostage?” she asked. Lia wondered if it was possible to torture an NPC for information, and then considered whether the role of king was even a real person. Perhaps he wasn’t a non-player character, but rather was an actual human like herself?
That might mean she’d been getting hugs from an overweight forty-year-old logged on to Nagant Wars from his mother’s basement.
God, I hope he’s not some creeper.
Rhith Corporation equipped all players with an in-game artificial intelligence construct. Lia had named her AI John. The personalities often seemed real, and they were capable of hearing direct thoughts. John intruded into the action when he had something important to say about the role she played.
John: He’s not, as far as I can tell.
The game’s artificial intelligence personalities spoke directly inside a player’s head, like an alternate personality. Lia had felt like she’d developed a case of schizophrenia until she’d gotten used to it.
Lia: How would you know for sure?
John: I wouldn’t, I suppose, but the probabilities are high that I’m right.
The king interrupted her thoughts. “It’s always possible.”
“What’s possible?” she asked, having already forgotten the question she’d asked.
“It’s better to be cautious,” her father said. “It’s always possible I could be taken hostage.”
“Really?” she asked. “But you wouldn’t betray me, would you?”
“No.” He removed his crown and scratched his head. “War is likely, sooner than later. Don’t fear, Princess. I won’t betray you, even if I’m fed alive to dragonlings.”
“And I will do my duty,” she said.
He nodded confidently. “You will succeed,” he announced. “I’m sure of it.”
“Long live the king!” she shouted. Gaining levels in the Nagant Wars required players to acquire experience points. She knelt and kissed his ring. When Lia stood – in her real bedroom wearing the Rhith Suit – her avatar mimicked her. The sound of +500XP being added to her account rang out.
Bing!
The in-game notifications screen blinked. Congratulations! You’ve reached Level Four.
Lia considered where she should distribute her newly acquired stat points. The structure was straightforward. At each level, a player was given ten stat points to distribute between five attributes.
Vigor.
Pansophy.
Serendipity.
Adroitness.
Thaumaturgy.
Deciding on a strategy was essential not only for staying alive, but to avoid unnecessary pain. Vigor was the strength attribute and was valued most by those who preferred to play the traditional role of a “tank.” Tanking required a player to attract as much attention from an enemy force as possible.
Pansophy was the intelligence and wisdom attribute. Adding intelligence to a character’s avatar allowed the player to solve riddles and puzzles easier with the help of AI. Serendipity affected in-game luck, as well as blessings from those avatars who were part of religious races or cults. High serendipity was favored by those who lusted for rare loot drops, and also by gamblers.
Adroitness contributed to the dexterity and hand-eye coordination of an avatar and was important to those players who chose to use longbows or thrown weapons. It was favored by those who played damage-dealing roles.
Thaumaturgy affected the magical ability of a character and applied equally to players stacking for dark mana as it did for those playing support roles stacking for light mana. It was most important for those who preferred to be in-game healers.
The rules required that players place at least one stat point to each attribute per round, but the other ones could be used evenly or stacked in favor of one characteristic. Additional stat points were given in each round as a bonus based on the character’s in-game race and class. Lia’s avatar was a woodland elf called the Nefyn, and it automatically stacked towards healing.
She assigned two additional points each to vigor and adroitness, and the last one to thaumaturgy, and then began her mission in the Arodian Mountains.
Chapter Three
The continuity problem might exist every time you fall asleep.
~ Cole Green
Dale and Brian entered the PTU testing facility one week after their parents had consented and signed the forms.
Brian had awkwardly asked Dale whether he would accept a scholarship to PTU even if Brian didn’t make it in.
“Duh,” Dale had said. “It’s my dream school.”
“But…”
“You’ll get into a good school–”
“I don’t mean that.”
“What are you talking about, then?”
“Never mind,” Brian had answered. “Forget it.”
The Prootingham Technical University Cincinnati Campus took up an entire city block. Hundreds of people bustled through the campus, like ants entering and exiting an anthill.
It took them two hours to pass through security, which required a retinal scan, fingerprints, and blood and hair samples. When the screening was complete, the university took a photo and a voice imprint for future identification.
No exceptions were permitted, and once a citizen agreed to enter their data, they were tracked and cataloged for life.
“This is worse than Facebook,” Brian said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Dale said. “We’ve been tracked since we left the hospital as newborns.”
They were guided to an office, where an old woman with soft, friendly eyes handed them each a form.
“Old-fashioned paperwork, boys,” she said.
“How come?” Brian asked.
“Handwriting analysis…and it’s impossible to claim you didn’t write the answers.”
Dale looked at the form, sat at one of the desks, and worked at filling out the sheets. It had been years since he’d actually used an ink pen, and his handwriting was rough.
After three hours of paperwork, Dale and Brian were separated, and Dale was taken to a computer station for more testing. When he finished answering questions, solving puzzles, and fixing bugs in test programs, he was directed to a plush office for a face-to-face interview.
“Please sit, Mr. Brown,” a well-dressed man said. “Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Water?”
“No, thank you, sir,” Dale said.
“Did you expect the testing to be so thorough?” the man asked.
“No, sir.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. We have severe penalties in place for revealing info about our protocols. I’m glad to hear you didn’t find anything online.”
“No, sir,” Dale said again.
“You did look, I assume?” He smiled like a co-conspirator.
“Oh, um, yes, of course.” Dale figured he’d get caught if he lied. Besides, everyone hunted for university test questions.
“It takes two weeks for your results to be analyzed. They’re then compared to your standardized test scores uploaded by your high school. And we do extensive background checks and a complete analysis of all your gaming, going back a decade, but sometimes longer.”
“Wow,” Dale said. He wondered if they’d found all of his accounts, but decided not to ask.
“I’ve noted your awards for design and construction. Those are the reason you’re here.” The man stood and walked towards a wall covered in framed photographs. “You might recognize some of these faces.”
“I do,” Dale said. He’d noticed the photos when he’d first
entered the room. A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach. He was up against the very best.
“It’s not just the Japanese, Chinese, Russians, and Brazilians you have to worry about these days. No, you’re facing world-class applications from South Africa, Australia, and several young women from New Zealand. Perhaps you’ve seen the Tech-Talk that Samantha Fallows did last year on the limits of knowledge concerning facial bone reconstruction of the Neanderthal?”
“I did,” he answered. “She’s very talented.”
“That’s the competition.”
“It’s…” Dale looked again at the wall of photographs. “It’s super impressive.”
“Yes. But that’s not the only issue you’re facing. Samantha is a citizen of New Zealand. And New Zealand doesn’t have any government service programs – no, um – what do you Americans call them? Volunteer programs?”
“Yeah.” Dale frowned. “I don’t want to go.”
“No, of course not,” the interviewer agreed. “But we must take into account the fact that you could be conscripted into government service. You could get shipped off somewhere…”
“God,” Dale said. “This is depressing.”
“It would be a waste of talent, but these things are decided by powers outside of the university’s control.”
“Yes, sir. I know that. I haven’t done the government testing yet, and I really don’t want to get sent to war.”
“Unfortunately, students and soldiers are both commodities.”
“I don’t understand.”
“War might be forced on you, and there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it.”
The following week, while Dale waited for his results, Brian finally received his Rhith Console and Rhith Suit.
On a Saturday morning, Dale watched his friend via the chat app on his laptop. Brian carefully opened the packaging of his new gear. Dale, being experienced, talked him through the setup.
“Blind camera,” Brian said.
Dale’s screen went black, but the audio remained on. “This feels weird,” Brian said. “Why do I have to be totally naked?”
“The Rhith Suit adapts your experience to your body’s responses. Clothing screws up the sensors. The tech’s a trade secret, but I heard something about Rhith creating realistic sex games. Just hurry up and you’ll see for yourself.”
“That’s freaky, dude.”
“I guess,” Dale said. He knew more about sexual role-playing than he was letting on, but he wasn’t going to talk to his friend about it. “Are you done yet?”
“I am. Restore camera,” Brian said. “Now what?”
“Watch me, and do the same. Once you’re logged in, you can use voice commands to send me a friend request,” Dale said.
Dale held up his helmet. The face mask had an integrated heads-up display and also provided filtered air. The oxygen supplied by the system could come as crisp mountain air or stale dungeon stink, depending on the game environment. The face mask also tuned into the user’s expressions, which were mimicked onto their avatars.
If a player smiled, the avatar smiled.
The unit provided sound and listened for voice commands.
Players interacted inside the Rhith Corporation’s virtual worlds as if they were there, and once logged in, a person felt pain, whether they stubbed their toe or were stabbed or bitten.
The actual degree of pain was calibrated depending on a player’s experience and level.
More critical to Rhith Corp’s profits was the pleasure that could be felt. When inside a Rhith Suit, human touch, eating, drinking, and even the sensation of swimming or the sun on your face were all amazingly real.
And to the delight of socially awkward people, in-world sex was not only realistic, but many claimed it was better than the real thing.
“Okay, when I put this over my head, it’ll lock the suit,” Dale said, and demonstrated to Brian how to pull the helmet into place. “If I say ‘exit, exit, exit,’ the faceplate will open and the system will pause. You’ll lose whatever bonuses or points you’d earned, so don’t quit if you can help it. You’re going to feel air blowing into your face when you first log in, and then a sensation like you’re weightless.”
Dale’s avatar appeared inside a private Rhith Pod. He made minor calibrations while he waited, and accepted the Rhith Friend request from Brian when it came.
Brian’s avatar appeared in the pod. “You made it,” Dale said.
“Holy crap, dude!” Brian shouted. “This is insane. I feel a little sick.”
“It’ll go away in a minute. You need to get your avatar set up. For now, just use basic voice commands. For instance, when you say ‘menu,’ a window will open.”
When he spoke the word, a pop-up appeared.
Player: Dale Brown
Avatar: Default
Location: Rhith Pod 34-xx78b [select to customize pod]
Status: Tutorial Completed
Please make a selection:
Accompany new player [Brian Daniels] through the tutorial
Go to: [Adjust & Calibrate]
Return to: [Main Menu]
Go to: Your Rhith World Library [2 worlds available]
[Shop] for additional Rhith Worlds: Attention! [Everlasting Enmity] on sale for a limited time!
Go to: saved Rhith Pods [List] [Friends online] [Explore]
Enter Phone Mode. [Voicemail: 2 messages]
Exit System: [Save]
Elapsed time online: 3:27 minutes
They entered the tutorial together.
The Rhith World guide, Safaiz, greeted them. The creature looked like the combination of a genie and an elf. “Master Dale, are you here to assist Master Brian?”
“Yeah, let’s get going,” Dale answered.
“Follow me,” Safaiz said.
They walked towards a forest, which climbed up the side of a tall mountain that disappeared into clouds.
“Holy crap,” Brian said. “It’s so realistic – the sky, the clouds, the grass – I can’t believe it.”
“I told you, dude,” Dale said. “I’ve been trying to explain it, but it’s something you have to see for yourself.”
Brian pointed ahead. “Is that a wolf?”
“Yes, Master Brian,” Safaiz said. “You can use a voice command to arm yourself with a weapon.”
Brian retrieved a longbow and shot the creature.
“Hurry up,” Dale said. “There are better things to kill in the forest.”
“Give him time, Master Dale,” their guide said. “He’s going to get sick if he rushes.”
Brian collected the wolf pelt and added it to his inventory.
“Okay, let’s go,” Dale said. He ran ahead and jumped into a small lake. Searching the bottom for items, he found only mud and rocks, but then noticed a massive catfish. He’d never seen it before, but decided to ignore it.
He jumped out of the lake. “You’ll have to buy aqua-goggles in the trade center if you want to see underwater. It’s amazing. You really feel wet and weightless.”
“I’ve never snorkeled before,” Brian said.
“It doesn’t matter; you can hold your breath for a long time. I just saw a catfish. It looked exactly like a real fish. It’s like being in an aquarium.”
“Did you consider spearing it, Master Dale?” Safaiz asked.
“No. I don’t have a spear. Why?”
“There are rumors of a giant catfish that has a belly filled with gold coins.”
The trio spent the next two hours running quests that were designed to allow a new player to become familiar with the tech and calibrate their avatars.
After Brian became competent with the basics, they grew bored. Dale suggested creating a new conversation pod where they could chat in private.
“Are you going to buy Nagant Wars?” Dale asked.
“Of course! Dude, you were supposed to wait for me.”
“I haven’t done anything yet. I mean, just some basic tutorials. Can you afford it now?�
��
“Maybe. I have to ask.”
“Okay, but I’m not waiting much longer. You won’t believe the world. It’s as if you’re really going to war. Everything’s realistic, every detail, every–”
“I get it,” Brian said. “Not to change the subject, but do you think you’ll be drafted? That’ll seriously kill your game time.”
“I don’t know,” Dale said. He reached out and touched Brian’s shoulder. “I’m not even sure what’s real and what’s virtual anymore.”
Brian swatted his hand away.
“Ouch. That kind of hurt,” Dale said. “You can’t forget that whatever your avatar feels, the suit transmits to your body.”
“Sorry,” Brian said. “I didn’t mean to hit so hard.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking. Should we consider the military’s buddy offer?”
Dale sidestepped. “What do you think?” He’d been nervous about the option, but had come to the conclusion that being alone in a new environment was a worse prospect than what he’d be giving up by agreeing to the Volunteer Partnership Agreement.
The government’s offer had certain advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, buddies were guaranteed a joint assignment. On the negative side, your job could end up really sucking.
Like a partnership team could be sent to a South American village to raise chickens.
Or to Southeast Asia to fight rebels.
If Dale gave up the advantage he had with his computing skills, he could find himself being assigned to any number of horrible missions.
Of course, there were also benefits to joining of your own accord. The government offered bonuses and privileges to those who signed up early. But there was a definite negative, too. Not everyone got sucked into the program, and if he joined, it would mean a definite two-year delay in his schooling versus the chance he didn’t get drafted. He wished he knew the odds, but it was a tightly held secret.
“I think we should do the buddy system,” Brian said, interrupting Dale’s thoughts. “We’d be together. That way, whatever bullshit we have to do, at least we wouldn’t be stuck alone with a bunch of dickheads.”
“Sometimes I lean towards joining,” Dale said. “But then later I’m sure I want to start tech training instead.”
