by Charles Dean
He sent out the replies, told them all he’d be in the market that was just west of The Wench’s Best Bubbly Head and then logged on quickly so that he didn’t keep Sampson waiting too long. The first thing he saw when he loaded back in was Sampson standing there in all his Minotaur’s glory, looking frustrated. I wonder what that’s like, trying to make a facial expression with a giant bull’s snout?
“What took you so long?” Sampson asked. “I’ve been waiting here like five minutes.”
“Uhh . . .” I made a bunch of food and put together an auction? “You know, the usual.” He shrugged it off dismissively.
“Oh, that type of break,” Sampson snickered.
“Hey, it wasn’t like that. I just had to check the forums for some things.” Locke may have had a legitimate reason for taking a bit longer than expected, but he still felt like he was only using the familiar and defensive ‘nuh-uh’ that only seemed to confirm other people’s suspicions.
“Mhmm. You know the best part of Tiqpa?” Sampson asked and then started finishing her question before Locke could even respond. “No kids.”
“Huh? Didn’t we just tease Reginald about him being a kid?”
“Oh, not like that. ‘Little Reggie-Reg,’” Sampson used a mocking voice, “is totally a child, well, behaviorally at least. But I mean, you don’t ever have to listen to Blue’s Clues through someone’s headset or deal with their kids crying in the background in the middle of a raid.”
“Raids . . .” Locke kind of wished he had managed to try out previous MMOs before Tiqpa. His schedule was constantly filled with work and studying for classes, and he had stayed off other games entirely. Despite that, he had still heard enough to know that Sampson was talking about a serious nuisance for gamers. Kids in video games were supposedly worse than young children constantly kicking the back of your seat while screaming on an airplane. “That must have been rough,” Locke said, cringing at the thought. “I guess that’s one of the best unforeseen benefits of Tiqpa, but it also means that parents can’t hear their kids outside the game . . . so they can’t play while babysitting.”
“Is that really a bad thing, though? I think some kids from my generation grew up knowing the stars on TV better than their own dad and mom.” Sampson sounded disappointed, the subject obviously hitting too close to home.
“Can we go to the Western Market? I have to meet some people,” Locke said, hoping to change the subject. He was hoping that he wouldn’t have to go looking too far to find his customers from the forum, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a mopey Minotaur.
“Sure thing.” Sampson nodded, and the two of them made their way through the open town toward the market.
Locke was struck by how familiar, yet foreign, their trip was. Although he had been to the town on previous visits, he had never really taken the time to appreciate the design elements that had gone into constructing it. Each of the roads was fashioned exactly like what one might expect in the modern world. There were two lanes directing the flow of traffic replete with spaces for turns and separated by a median one could cross. The only major differences were that everyone was walking instead of driving, and the trees that would have decorated the median back in the real world were replaced by the large stone statues that he had noticed earlier, spaced out every few feet in between the lanes of traffic. Now that he was closer, he could tell that they were adorned with glass armor over their stone bodies that gave an odd sort of ‘look inside’ feel to a simple statue of what was otherwise simply an armored tiger or Naga. There was occasionally sand or glass on the sides of the roads, though never both at the same time, and it appeared to have been set aside in small beds as if there should be something planted in the sand. Sadly, every single one of the makeshift, sand-filled flower beds was empty and only served to occupy space between the roads and buildings.
The town was also structured uniformly, and every house looked the same. It was almost as if each building had been carefully placed by an artist or architect that put together the design for the entire city at once. There were, of course, levels beneath the surface--one where plenty of Naga and Fire-Walkers lived below the White-Wing-filled towers on top of the town--but Locke had never seen them. He had tried to find the stairs once just after he first arrived, and he had even been tempted to jump off the side of town and swim underneath the water just to see what was visible through the glass doors that sealed off the submerged docks, but work had gotten in the way. He had been in the town for over a week and never once seen the underworld domain of the Fire-Walkers and Naga.
He was doing his best to take in everything when something caught his eye and drew his attention away from the beauty of the town. Directly in front of him, walking so slowly that other pedestrians were doing their best to pass around without bumping them, were the incredibly familiar figures of Sol and Sal. They were talking to themselves so loudly that he couldn’t help but overhear what was being said, even as Sampson rattled on about some personal stuff.
“I can’t believe Locke disappeared. He promised me a new weapon!” Sal complained. “I was hoping he could make one with my name and draw a cool picture on it.”
“Oh, right! Or maybe he could make mine with like a sun or something!” Sol enthusiastically chimed in.
“Because your name is Sol?” Sal asked, turning his head and causing Locke to instinctively cover his face. He didn’t think that either of the two oafs would look all the way behind them, but he didn’t feel like taking a chance either.
“Big fan of suns?” Sal asked, causing Locke and Sampson to groan at the rather pedestrian and poor pun.
Sampson’s groan was loud enough for Locke to hear clearly, and it let him know that he was no longer rudely ignoring a conversation with him and that the Minotaur was officially terrible at going unnoticed.
“No, because of my name . . . You know what? Forget it. I’m just upset that I won’t get a fancy weapon.”
“He promised me one too, and you don’t see me griping, do you?” Persephone, whom Locke had completely failed to notice as her figure was mostly blocked by the two roadblocks behind her, joined in.
Persephone . . . Persephone . . . Something struck him as important about her, something that he was supposed to remember, but he couldn’t quite bring it to the front of his mind. He tried his best to see her through the cracks between Sol and Sal, but the two of them continued their blubbering on a subject that caught his attention even more.
“What happened to Locke, by the way?” Persephone asked. “You two were the last to see him before he just up and logged out and quit the game.”
“I don’t know. I heard Portia was going to offer Locke a sweet deal, something like a five percent raise on how much we were paying him on all the goods we purchased if he signed an exclusivity contract. Portia had been really paranoid that Locke was going to start selling to the Demon Alliance, so she wanted him to either join the guild or sign an exclusivity contract. His products had grown very popular, after all.” Sal shrugged. “No idea why someone would quit if they were offered more money.”
Locke clenched his teeth, and his eyes popped wide open as he heard this. I was supposed to get five percent more? What the heck?! He offered me pennies on what I was earning, not five percent more! I would have signed that paper in a heartbeat at five percent more! Locke’s mind reeled as he started to think about all the lost money he could have been earning today if Anthony had offered him that deal instead of the few bucks an hour he pushed on him. This new information, fresh out of the rumor mill, did a bit to lessen his hatred for the Holy Alliance, but it did nothing to abate his now even greater antipathy for its scummy commander.
“Yeah, that doesn’t add up.” Persephone lowered her head and fiddled with her hair. “It’s a shame no one was actually in the room with them. I would love to know what really happened.”
“You and Portia both. She and every single quartermaster in the alliance has been furious at the commander sin
ce Locke disappeared. They yelled at Anthony so much and so loudly that people five tents away probably still have ringing in their ears. From what I heard, he’s getting kicked out of the whole Alliance for botching that deal if the story he fed them about Locke claiming family matters were getting in the way of the game turns out not to be true.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen Locke selling a single item on the forums or anyone with his newest gear lately, so it probably is,” Sol conceded.
“If it were true, then why would he have promised to make us weapons?” Persephone asked. “I’m with Portia on this one. That story seems fishy.”
“Well, we don’t have time to worry about it,” Sal said. “We need to get to the Western Market and secure this new Alchemist for the Holy Alliance. If we can pick him up, it’ll make up for us losing our best Blacksmith. Can you imagine? We’ll have the only ranked Alchemist in the business!”
“Is that you?” Sampson whispered quietly under his breath to Locke. “Are you seriously going to get an offer from the Holy Alliance? You’re so lucky!” he whispered in such a hushed tone,
Lucky? Yeah right!
“Until some other guild finally talks someone into giving up their character and restarting the game as that class, that is,” Sol responded.
“Psh. No one wants to spend their life picking flowers. That’s just not going to happen,” Sal laughed.
“Good point. We better hurry then and get him before we end up in as much hot water as poor Anthony. He already rejected all our offers on the forums, so we need to get there quick and figure out who outbid us,” Sol said, taking off with Sal so fast that they left poor Persephone in the dust, recovering from the two brutes knocking her as they darted past.
So, if I were to resurface as Locke, that would get him fired . . . Locke’s grin spread across his face. As much as he wanted to stay in Tiqpa, destroying this guy somehow felt like it might just be worth risking the ban.
Hey, Shy! This is your friendly, neighborhood Ash messaging you with a kind reminder: Don’t even think about it. I know what you just heard, since us GMs have nothing better to do than watch our poor peon gamers, so I can already guess what you’re contemplating. I just wanted to remind you that I’ll get in trouble for unbanning you, and you will be fined for dodging your ban and your account will be blocked again. It’s lose-lose for both of us, so you better not try to do anything rash.
What? ‘Friendly, neighborhood Ash’ my rear end. It’s more like creepy, telepathic stalker Ash. Locke blinked in shock, frozen in place as he read the message. I get her watching me through whatever weird camera GMs use, but how is she such a mind reader? I can’t even think something without her popping up the second the thought goes through my head. I swear, she’s less of a GM and more of an evil, mind-reading, devil witch.
“Shy, cut it out.” A giant hand knocked Shy’s shoulder, almost toppling him over.
“Huh?” Locke was a bit taken aback. Is she still here reading my thoughts? I swear that I didn’t call you a devil witch! His head swiveled over to see Sampson staring at him. “I figured that you wanted to follow those three and listen in about what’s going on with Locke. I was super curious about it too . . . but really? Have some shame.”
“What are you talking about?” Locke, honestly clueless, looked over to see what Sampson was referring to.
“Her bum, Shy! Don’t make me use even cruder language. I didn’t realize the only reason you were following them was because you wanted to stare at that girl’s rear end.” Sampson actually pointed at Persephone’s butt in front of the two of them. It was only then that he realized that the entire time he was reading the ‘Friendly, neighborhood Ash’ message, it looked to onlookers like he was staring at her frozen assets as she stood static ahead of the pair.
Are you kidding me? The same misunderstanding twice in one day? Locke cringed as he tried to think his way out of this. “No, it’s not like that . . . I was just . . .” Locke trailed off as he started to recall the first time he had been caught letting his eyes rest on her while he was deep in thought about other things.
“Oh, come on, Shy! Give me a break already! Stop drooling over her! That isn’t the best derrière in the world!” Sampson smacked Locke again.
‘Dairy air?’ Did a giant, lumbering cow really just say that? Of course. “Sorry, my mind just wanders, and she happened to be dead ahead . . . or behind. Yeah, it really is nice.” Locke tilted his head, emphasizing the fact he was admiring it. It definitely wasn’t the best he had ever witnessed, and it was only in a virtual world, but he felt like messing with Sampson. He knew that the big bull was being reproachful, yet he couldn’t stop himself from teasing him as soon as the weak point revealed itself. “I mean, it’s like the stock market in 2006: nothing but a beautiful bubble.”
“Really?” Sampson seemed to get even more frustrated.
“What? I can’t help myself. It’s like when you’re walking down the road, and you see a pair of pants with words all over the back of them. Even if you don’t want it to, your mind instinctively looks to see what they say. We’re trained readers, Sampson. You can’t hold it against us.”
“But there isn’t anything written on it,” Sampson protested further. Persephone finally started walking again in the same direction Sal and Sol had taken off in, and Locke and Sampson once more followed behind.
“Of course, there is! Right there! Right on the back of them. It’s written, ‘Sampson is totally a girl in real life.’” Locke started laughing, having too much fun with this. He even enjoyed Sampson’s squinted looks as the hulking Minotaur tried to read the clearly nonexistent text.
“Really? I mean, no it isn’t!”
“It’s okay, dear.” Locke stressed the word ‘dear’ a little more than he should have. “I won’t tell your secret. I’ve met plenty of women before that like to pretend they are giant half-man, half-bull, axe-wielding dudes. There isn’t any reason to be embarrassed.”
“Oh, stop it. You have not,” Sampson grumbled as they kept on toward the Western Market.
“Hey, how do you know I’m not telling the truth? People can dream about being whatever they want to be . . . even if it’s an Apache helicopter.” Locke waited for a minute and said, “It could happen.”
“I just don’t want a female avatar because I hate how people creep on you in video games. If I were playing a woman, the next thing I know, I might find myself being ogled by some slimy guy named Shy every time I walked through the streets,” she bemoaned as she gave Locke an accusatory stare.
“Sampson, relax. I was just reading private messages and things about my class from the Tiqpa menu, and she happened to be standing still in front of me. The fact that she wasn’t moving either is probably for the same reason. We were both just in our menus, so stop making a big deal about it.” Locke felt like killing the subject before he developed an unsavory reputation.
“If you say so, I’ll drop it, but . . . how did you know?”
“Oh, Reginald told me earlier. Said you and Sparky were both girls, and the two Succubi were both guys.” Locke threw the poor Satyr under the bus. He could have just as easily blamed her reaction right then, but for some reason, since the Satyr had only told him with the intent of teasing him, he didn’t feel any reason not to use this to screw with him too.
“Ugh, that is the last time we invite ‘Little Reggie-reg’ to the guild meetings in real life!” Sampson declared.
“So he was right about the genders?” Locke decided to confirm.
“Well, sorta. One of the Succubi isn’t a guy, just a super tomboy in real life.” Sampson laughed. “She’ll probably beat poor Reggie up when she finds out that he called her a dude though. For someone who only wears loose, baggy pants and t-shirts, she takes her femininity very seriously.”
“Which one?” Locke asked, curious if it was Bianca or Katherine.
This time, Sampson didn’t answer. She just grinned ear to ear.
“Really? You
’re not going to tell me?” Locke squinted at her, doing his best to glare for dramatic effect. “I see how it is.”
“You’ll just have to come to our next guild meeting.” Her smile grew.
“I’m invited?” Locke asked. I didn’t realize we were that close after only one day of playing together--a day that ended in a bloody mess if I remember correctly, Locke thought, cheering up a bit as he considered the friendship.
“Of course, all guild members are.”
Locke finally joined in on Sampson’s chuckle. She had gotten the best of him in the end, but he was okay with it.
“So the Holy Alliance got outbid?” Sampson started up the small talk again after a minute of silence followed her teasing.
“Uhh . . . You could say other people made me offers that were much more enticing.” Though it’s not hard to be more enticing than doing business with those traitors, Locke mentally noted. “That’s why I’m hoping to avoid them, make my sales, and hopefully they won’t notice I was ever here.”
“Well, then that’s really not good news for you.” Sampson pointed at the market ahead of them, the one where he was supposed to meet most of his buyers, and a scene that made Locke’s heart start racing with terror.
There, amassed in front of him, was a giant crowd of over a hundred people milling around idly, and the word ‘alchemist’ popped up in the conversations he overheard so many times it felt like it was on the fast track to becoming the new buzz word for synergy at a cramped, cubicle-stuffed office. Crud! How in the heck am I supposed to handle this? Locke’s eyes darted from Holy Alliance member to Holy Alliance member. He could make out Sal, Sol and Persephone right in the center of a group that contained at least two of the customers he had contracted over the forums. He recognized them immediately from the pictures they had sent over just before he hopped on. They were both talking with Sal and Sol, and though he couldn’t make out what the two Dryads were discussing with any fancy lip-reading techniques like every corny ‘nerd’ character on a super-hero show could, he was able to clearly make out from the hand gestures that it was a money issue.
