by Michael Ryan
“Holy shit,” someone said, “are they actually going to shoot some dumb-ass Troth for not testing?”
“He knew the rules,” someone argued.
“State prison officials are preparing to administer the first capital sentence under the Haight-Frank-Todd Emergency Bill. Lester Franklin, a convicted member of the hate group Troth and felony deserter, attempted to avoid his mandatory volunteer service. Franklin failed to appear for testing requirements and created a false identification. State officials captured Franklin at a border crossing between Ohio and North Carolina.”
“They’re going to kill him,” a student said.
“Serves him right,” another stated.
“Lester David Franklin,” the television reporter continued, “will be executed in approximately eight minutes. Barring a last-minute injunction by the Ohio governor, twelve riflemen will discharge their weapons as decreed by law. Back to you, Carrie.”
The newscast returned to the studio.
“Thank you, Joshua,” the blonde anchorwoman said. “This is Carrie Manderly of Channel Seven News, the team that brings you the most up-to-date information from around the world and here in the Cincinnati-metro area. We’ll get right back to Joshua live on the scene in just a moment, right after a word from our sponsors.”
“It seems harsh,” someone said. “Don’t you guys–”
“Quiet!” someone else yelled. “I want to see this!”
An advertisement for a new Rhith World began on the monitor, and the room fell silent.
The Rhith Worlds’ logo appeared in its iconic bold lettering across the screen, and then the image faded to black.
A voice-over spoke as the darkness morphed into a depiction of battlefield destruction.
“Revenge.”
Tanks and troop carriers lay in ruin.
As vehicles burned in a desert and dead bodies littered the ground, carrion birds circled in the sky.
Smoke from hundreds of fires plumed upward.
“Revenge. There is no backing down. There is no surrender. There is no hope for peace.”
The scene panned across dozens of sand dunes.
The view then focused in on a small platoon of soldiers hunkered down in a burnt-out bunker.
“Everlasting Enmity. Revenge takes on a new meaning in the newest Rhith World. Coming soon.”
The scene panned back across the wasteland and then moved upward as if a rocket held the camera that shot the expanding scene of destruction. From high in the atmosphere, an image of amassing armies, devastated troops, and burning oil fields was shown in a gritty but realistic view.
In the final moment, nuclear mushroom clouds flared across the screen.
The commercial faded to black.
“Jesus Christ,” someone gasped. “I can’t wait to play that.”
“It does look good.”
“Can you believe the graphics? It was no different than watching the actual news.”
“Yeah, makes you wonder if this execution is real or propaganda.”
When the commercials finished, the news studio reappeared.
“This is Carrie Manderly of Channel Seven News. We’re returning to the live execution of Lester David Franklin in just a moment. In other news, the Chinese government announced today that it would consider proposals to move troops out of Cambodia and Laos, provided an acceptable agreement with the Earth United Defense Army was reached. Yesterday, a late night attack by rebels killed an estimated eight hundred and seventeen people in the city of Hong Kong. The Chinese government retaliated with a strong show of force against suspected rebel camps.”
Images of destroyed villages briefly appeared, and then the newscaster returned to the monitor.
“Don’t forget to tune in next Thursday evening at nine as Channel Seven Special Reports presents a segment on the growing concern of PTSD among EUDA soldiers participating in the latest Rhith Corporation virtual war system. We’re now returning to our live coverage, as the scheduled execution is mere moments away. Joshua, over to you.”
The view changed back to the execution.
“Thank you, Carrie. This is Joshua Strobel for Channel Seven News on location at the State Department of Prisons and Punishments. In approximately one minute, the state is scheduled to execute Les–”
Massive explosions appeared in the background. Joshua Strobel screamed, the signal was lost, and the screen turned to static. After a moment, an old-fashioned test pattern appeared, something Dale recognized from watching old-school cartoons.
He wondered if the whole thing was just that – a cartoon, something like a practical joke.
A notice appeared on the screen.
Please Stand By.
The students waited in silence for something, or someone, to tell them what had happened, but it took three days before regular news broadcasts returned.
The Earth United Defense Army training facility was bustling with activity when Dale and Brian showed up ten days after Dale succumbed to the inevitable and put his university studies on hold.
People from all over the world milled around, stood in lines, and followed orders barked by rough-sounding sergeants. There were also representatives from Consolidated Rhith Systems Corporation yelling commands into bullhorns.
“I’m glad we’re best friends again,” Brian said over the noise. He was cheerful and exuberant with the change of plans he’d helped bring about.
“Me too,” Dale said. “We need to find a starting point in this mess.”
Brian whispered to him with a conspiratorial tone, “I’m glad you didn’t–”
“Shhhhh. Are you trying to get me in trouble?” Dale asked.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t ever accuse me of thinking about doing something so stupid,” Dale warned. He’d been scared out of his mind when, after the government apparently executed a member of the Troth, Brian had begun talking about seeking them out during a video chat.
The thought of even talking to them, much less joining them, had died that instant with Dale, even if they always seemed to have a legitimate excuse for their crimes. Dale didn’t question the wisdom of his government; it obviously had much better information than he could ever hope to obtain.
It had been an enormous relief when he’d formally accepted and signed up for the EUDA buddy system volunteer program with Brian.
“There, over there,” his friend said, pointing towards a giant illuminated sign.
Station A. Start here.
They went to the end of a long line and waited.
An hour later they’d made it halfway to the processing station.
“What was the point of having an appointment?” Brian asked.
“I don’t know,” Dale answered. He was tired of standing, too.
“It’s the military,” the young man behind them said. “I think the number one purpose of an army is waiting. Standing in a line is the second purpose. You’ll spend two months waiting, standing in lines, filling out paperwork, and doing repetitive training, just to go into the field to march for sixteen days before having a ten-minute battle. After which you’ll either be killed, injured, or perhaps worse, then transferred to a new unit to start the process over again.”
“What’s worse than death?” Dale asked.
“Where’d you get your expertise?” Brian asked.
“I’m David. David Beck.” He put out his hand. Brian and Dale shook it.
“Dale and I are part of the buddy system program,” Brian said proudly.
“That’s great,” Beck said. “But it’ll only last about two minutes.”
“What do you mean?” Brian shifted his eyes between the two men and crossed his arms.
“Well,” Beck answered, “you’re buddies alright, but as soon as one of you gets promoted, the other one will be jealous. I’ve seen it before. If you both get promoted, well, you can’t exactly serve in the same squad anymore. Who’s going to order who around?”
“I’m sure we’ll w
ork out a system.” Brian said, looking quizzically at Dale. “Right?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Dale answered. He didn’t sound very confident and hoped that Brian hadn’t noticed. He looked at Beck, who gave him a knowing smile.
“You guys didn’t read the fine print?” Beck asked.
“The TOS? I never read those damn things,” Brian answered nervously.
“I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t manage,” Dale said. He patted his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”
After another hour they made it to the front of the line.
“State your name,” a female officer said. She was dressed in camouflage and wore captain’s insignia. She stood behind a semi-opaque military-grade holo-screen that glowed bright blue.
Dale was fascinated with the tech. “Is that an upgrade to–”
“State your goddamn name, soldier,” she barked. “Are you deaf?”
“Ummmm–” Dale’s face burned. He looked down at his shoes. Feeling regret, like buyer’s remorse, he wanted to run home and forget any of this was happening.
“Are you stupid, too?” the captain asked in a mocking voice.
“No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am–”
“Goddammit, soldier,” she said. “I didn’t work my ass off to be called ma’am. I’m sir to you. Got that? You’d better get your candy-ass into gear, young man. See my name tag?”
“Yes…um, yes, sir,” Dale answered.
“And what does it say?” she continued.
“It says Captain Reynolds,” Dale answered.
“It says Captain Reynolds, what?”
“Sir,” he said, catching on to the problem. “It says Captain Reynolds, sir. I’m sorry, sir–”
“Don’t apologize,” she said cutting him off. Her tone became less caustic, and she said, “Just pay attention, and don’t let it happen again. Your name?”
“Dale Brown,” he answered. “Sir!”
The captain moved her finger over the holo-screen. She checked boxes and typed. After the screen flashed twice, she said, “Section delta. Room nineteen. Move it.”
Dale turned and looked at Brian.
“Goddamn it, soldier!” the captain shouted, losing her patience. “You’re going to learn to follow fucking orders.”
“But, sir–”
“Don’t but me! You little turd! Move it, move it, move it!”
Dale rushed away, following a series of signs that pointed him toward delta section.
He assumed that Brian would eventually find him.
Hunting for room nineteen, he found a series of doors labeled in order from eight through eighteen.
He nearly ran into a captain as he jogged down a hallway. “Excuse me, um, sir?” Dale asked him.
“You lost, soldier?” the captain asked.
“Um, yes, sir. I’m supposed to go to room number nineteen.”
“Nineteen, huh?”
“Yes, sir.” Dale looked at his feet, feeling stupid and inadequate.
“Well,” the officer said, “that’s special operations. Take the hall down to the end. Head up the stairwell; take that to the end. Nineteen will be on the left.”
“Thank you,” Dale said, walking away.
“Soldier.”
Dale looked back.
“That’s thank you, sir,” the officer said. “You might as well get used to adding the word sir to everything you say when talking to an officer.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Dale sprinted to the end of the corridor, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone else. Three minutes later, he found a door with “Number 19” stenciled in red letters.
He knocked and waited.
Nothing happened.
He waited for another minute and knocked again.
Still nothing.
He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he walked into what appeared to be a sterile waiting room. It looked like a dentist office, and for a moment, his teeth hurt.
A small woman wearing a plain nurse’s uniform greeted him. “Are you Dale Brown?”
“Yes,” he answered. “Sir?” he added, his voice wavering.
He felt uncertainty, buddy system or not, and he wondered where Brian was, and why the nurse had an extremely long needle attached to a large syringe in her hand.
“I’m not an officer, Dale,” she said. “Please, take a seat.”
“I’m not going to–”
“Don’t be a baby,” she said. Her mouth opened into a wide grin that was either friendly or sadistic. “It’s standard procedure, Dale. Sit.”
He obeyed.
A moment later, he received such a vicious poke in the arm that he passed out cold.
When he awoke, he felt better.
Stronger.
His arm no longer hurt.
He was wondering what to do next when he received a notification.
Message from CaptIanslogg74b: Hello! Welcome to Unit 19. Relax. A good-looking redheaded captain will be with you shortly. But don’t try to flirt. I have dibs.
Brown, Dale: Yes, sir.
Message from CaptainRdKilzer87c: Ignore that lecherous bastard. I’ll be out in seven minutes. And relax.
Brown, Dale: Yes, sir.
Dale sat in the waiting room for another thirty minutes, trying to soothe his anxiety. He was not successful.
An officer entered the room and introduced herself. “I’m Captain Redding. Sorry you had to wait. Weird shit in the early training sessions is pretty standard.”
She extended her hand and Dale shook it.
He tried, with only partial success, to keep his eyes from wandering over her body.
“Now, let’s see,” she said. “Dale Brown. Preliminary diagnostics put you with us, hmmmmm. You know what Unit Nineteen does, soon-to-be-Private Brown?”
“No,” he answered. He was wondering where Brian ended up and what good the buddy system was if your buddy wasn’t with you.
She stared at him with a slight tilt of her head.
“Oops…no, sir,” Dale said, correcting his lapse.
She walked towards the rear of the room and said, “That’s better. You might as well get used to it. It’s the military way.” She looked up at the ceiling. “There are eyes and ears everywhere, Brown. Don’t trust anyone, believe you me. And quit staring at my ass, soon-to-be-Private Brown.”
His face flushed hot. Dale wondered if she had eyes in the back of her head. He looked at his boots and shifted his weight.
“Well,” she said, “don’t just stand there looking stupid. Follow me.”
Dale obeyed.
He nearly crapped his pants at what he saw when he exited the room.
Chapter Fifteen
There is no adverse effect on the brain during game play per se; the mind is adversely or positively affected by the type of stimuli, not its primary source.
~ Chief Neuroscientist, Rhith Corporation
When Lia played the Princess Rohini character, her deity was Quetzalcoatl, an old-Earth god of creative ability and knowledge. She didn’t necessarily believe in gods, but she understood that in a virtual universe or a parallel one, gods could be real.
Why not?
The effect on a player’s physical brain while playing in a Rhith World was subject to fierce debate among neuroscientists. Could built-in affinities and hatreds affect a player’s physical gray matter and thus their real-life experiences outside the virtual reality?
If so, how?
There were no fairies or dwarfs in the real world to hate or love, yet in-game, emotions had consequences. The terrorist group known as the Troth believed that Rhith Corporation had designed everything about the planet Almaach as part of an insidious plot to control and turn humanity into consumer slaves while making nameless executives richer.
Lia didn’t believe in what she considered to be conspiracy theories, and she logged into her Rhith World account without a second thought.
Darkness fell early in the valley, where
the snowcapped mountains on both sides blocked the sun by late afternoon.
“We’re safe here,” Robur had said earlier. “I’ve placed guards and a few particularly nasty wards around our camp, so eat, drink, and tell me tales of adventure and glory.”
Lia put aside her real-world thoughts and concerns and approached the feast as Princess Rohini.
Rohini: It’s good to be here, I don’t believe in any of that conspiracy nonsense back home, and it’s nice to forget about it.
John: Well, why not?
Rohini: What do you mean? You don’t believe in gods, do you?
I believe in me, and what am I?
You’re an AI.
I’m a perfect, eternal, non-corporeal being.
Yeah, okay.
You doubt me?
Materialize a cheeseburger, fries, and a banana milkshake, and I’ll relinquish my doubts.
If I did that, you’d be denied the joy of exercising faith.
Go back to sleep.
As you wish, my Princess.
A large table had been set up for the princess and her troop.
Servants placed mugs of mead in front of everyone. Robur raised his drink and announced a toast. “I, Robur, ambassador of the great King Moschatel, welcome you to our lands. Long live the king!”
“Long live the king!” echoed through the valley.
They drank to the dregs, shouted for more brew, and began to tell jokes, tales, and riddles. As soon as their mugs emptied, Sid servants refilled them.
At some point, Rohini lost track of how many toasts she’d raised. Soon after that, she no longer cared.
Servants brought Blue Forest mushroom caps stuffed with a mixture of sausage and herbs. Their taste was sweet and savory, and as Rohini bit into them, juice dripped down her chin. If not for the mead, she might have cared, but with the festive mood and the intoxicating honey wine, she ignored court etiquette and used her sleeve to wipe her face.
After the appetizer, the servants delivered loaves of freshly baked bread.
How had they made an oven? Rohini wondered, but before she could ask Robur, he handed her a dish of semisoft butter.
“Princess, this butter was churned from the milk of a dairy cow that feeds exclusively on the magically sweet grasses of the lower meadow. Please…” he said, handing her the dish.
