Still, Chrissy loved them so I made do. This particular one was in the bright red-and-blue colors of the Angelwing Transit Line, one of the major lines that kept a constant schedule moving up and down through the city’s districts, available to stop at any dock for a fee. It was big, the size of a small ground truck, and vaguely the shape of a bullet. The entire undercarriage glowed faintly from the antigravity suspension rig and four independently mobile ducted fans were mounted like a ground car’s wheels. Large windows lined the sides, perfect for gawking sightseers and, well, my sister.
She was plastered to the window the whole time, sitting with Roxanne in the bench seats in front of me. I only cast an occasional glance outside, mostly because I kept thinking about Crystalfire Keep. I found myself coming back to our group and their problems.
At least Burndall seemed to be doing fine, but I had a feeling he was going to get cross if I kept ducking him. He really wanted to be my ‘manager’, as if I was the person our fans cared about in our little group. Crysta and Kayla were both better to look at and were in the Sisters of Artemis, one of the biggest raid guilds, and Burndall was a much better talker than I was. Still, if it would make us money, I couldn’t argue, I suppose, but would this whole Ring of Promise quest ruin that? Keep me out of circulation for long enough that my five minutes of fame would be over?
I’d find out. As much as I would love to plan for the future as I usually did, this one time I was going to have to, well, wing it. It didn’t keep the million random thoughts from creeping in, but that decision kept my distraction to the minimum, enough to enjoy a few minutes watching Chrissy pointing at landmarks and tugging on Roxanne’s sleeve for attention.
While I was pretty good at being cynical up in the real world, I still got satisfaction from watching my kid sister smile. Maybe I wasn’t so jaded after all.
As the Angelwing swept upward, we had to wait through a good half-hour of stops, arrivals, and departures before we rose into Neo Angeles’ middle section. A rigidly laid out and precisely designed matrix of middle-class housing, industrial complexes, hospitals, and fusion plants made up this entire part of the arcology. Again, the Resource War’s impact was far-reaching, leading to everything being put in its place for maximum efficiency and minimum resource expenditure.
That impact was also why non-profit groups like the Fontaine Institute were so crucial to people like me and Chrissy. If you’re broken enough, considered not valuable enough, the rigid cost vs. gain formula about your life makes the government see you in a very different light than your average Joe Citizen. Base humanity might keep the powers that be from cutting you entirely off but they sure weren’t going to go out of their way to give you anything beyond what you needed to survive.
The sounds of the grav-transport's landing gear scraping on the landing pad were what finally broke me out of my gloomy thoughts. Neo Angeles Central Hospital was a sterile pillar of white concrete and mirrored glass, something of a luxury, and was the biggest and busiest hospital in the city. A sprawling parking lot/landing pad surrounded the building like a hive. Fortunately, this was one of the few places left where being a poor producer didn’t count against you, and the Angelwing was cleared for one of the closer landing sites.
Everything went smoothly from there for once. The Fontaine Institute maintained a wing there (at least for the next couple of weeks) so we were met halfway down the path to the hospital entrance by a pair of nurses in white scrubs bearing the Institute’s logo. Roxanne took the lead with paperwork at the ready. All I really had to do was follow along astride my epic mount and keep Chrissy company on the way in.
“So zzrt do you think I can get a super-cool chrome arm?” she mused.
I chuckled as I rolled along. “I don’t know, kiddo. We’ll have to see what your choices are after the doc takes a look at you.”
Her deflating sigh was a long buzz. “Ah, well, maybe I’ll get kzt lucky, right? Our luck’s been getting way better brt lately.”
I forced a smile despite my own worries. “Yeah, I guess things are really looking up.” While she wasn’t entirely wrong, she was far from right. Chrissy didn’t know about the Fontaine Institute leaving us hung out to dry so she didn’t know the full extent of our problems. Neither Roxanne nor I were going to burst her bubble and tell her that, especially if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. It was possible everything could turn out okay, right?
I hedged my bets and didn’t answer my own question as we entered the hospital proper.
It was as hospital as a hospital could be. Sterile white walls, soothing music playing in the lobby, and the general low cacophony of rushing nurses and doctors in the rest of the place were the order of the day.
Fortunately, we were spared from the hustle and bustle because the Institute people led us straight through the place to the 18th floor. The next time we came here (an inevitability with our myriad health issues), all this help and support would be gone. I’d need to figure out how to pick up the slack with cold, hard cash.
Roxanne and Chrissy were ushered off for the consultation proper. Examination followed by analysis and ending with setting the date for her replacement surgery. It was all pretty routine, at least for replacing her arm. The facemask, voice box, feeding apparatus, all that would be more complex but I wasn’t too worried. We had gone through this process three times since the accident so yeah, I was sure it would all go okay.
Well, mostly sure.
So, enough worry was there to make me want to fold into myself, sit in a corner of the waiting room and stew in my depression juices until the consultation was done. That’s what I fully intended to do as I motored over through the rows of connected couches and the fair number of people waiting here. They were like me and my family, poor or disaffected in some way, relying on the mercy of the Foundation to take care of whatever medical crisis they were going through. In fact, I had seen most of them at one time or the other, not that I ever introduced myself or injected myself into their business. That just wasn’t how I did things.
Someone caught my eye though. Sitting at the end of a row near an open corner, the young woman, probably my age or a little younger, was slouched over, sharp elbows on narrow knees. Her head was bowed down over her clasped hands, her hair a shock of red hair that was, well, strangely poofy. She was tall, thin, and athletic, making me think volleyball or basketball player, and she was dressed as you might expect someone athletic to dress: long, loose shorts, an easy-to-move-in T-shirt, all in whites and stormy grays. Though I couldn’t get a perfect look at her face as I rolled towards that corner, there was something familiar about her downcast profile and the way the fingers of her right hand anxiously rubbed what I guessed was an engagement ring on her left ring finger.
She reminded me very much of Crysta, from her overall look to the way she moved. Could it be her in the flesh? Well, it wasn’t impossible, not at all. Elementalis Online’s servers were parsed out by geographical location. Crysta, Kayla, Burndall, Nahma, Wazif, everyone I knew in the game had to live someone on the West Coast of North America, either over the sea in an arcology or along the new landline.
Still, I couldn’t assume. All the same, for the first time during one of these hospital waits, I felt the need to engage someone in conversation. Even if it wasn’t Crysta, this lady was in a bad way and the fact that no one was talking to her or sitting close meant she was going it alone. Maybe it was Chrissy’s influence or the fact that I was, you know, actually making real friends for once in my life, but whatever the reason, I couldn’t turn away this time.
She didn’t look up as I rolled past her and backed into the empty corner, close but not intrudingly close. When she didn’t look up, I waited a moment, gathering my courage, before speaking up.
“Uh, hi there,” I began weakly. “I hope I’m not prying but are, uh, you okay?”
The woman started as if she’d been shaken out of her sleep.
“Huh?” She craned her head around for a moment before half-
turning towards me. “Oh, I … well, to be honest, sir, no, I’m not.” She forced a smile alongside a half-heartedly giggle. “But I guess no one here is really okay, are they?”
Seeing her face-on and the cadence of that laugh, it made me believe in my half-baked theory more. How much of that was my brain trying to make things fit, how much of it was wishful thinking to find a friendly face, I really can’t say.
I tried to smile reassuringly. “I guess not, but the doctors here are top-notch. If there’s any place for things to get fixed, at least, uh, medical things, this is the place.”
Her green eyes focused on me now, as if she hadn’t entirely been looking at me before. “I hope you’re right about that.” She rubbed at her ring with renewed worry. “I guess I don’t have a lot of hope left at this point but …”
Gesturing up and down my wheelchair-bound body, I grinned a little. “Hey, if anyone understands being low on hope, it’s someone like me.”
She quirked her head a little and eyes me intensely as if she was studying every pore of my face.
“Yeah,” she murmured distractedly. “I imagine you’ve been through a lot. It almost makes me feel bad for being so worried.” With a shake of her head, she kept going, her lilting voice getting thick with emotion. “If it were something wrong with me, I don’t think I’d be like this but …”
“It’s your fiancée, right?” I offered. “When it’s someone you love, it’s a heck of a lot harder to keep yourself upbeat, at least when you’re on your own.” Trying to be comforting, I smiled harder. “It’s easy to keep a stiff upper lip when you’re with them but the second you’re alone –”
Possibly-Crysta’s eyes widened a bit. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” I was actually a bit surprised at her question. I mean, you see someone in a waiting room worriedly fidgeting with an engagement ring, it should have been obvious what was up. “Oh, well, your ring. You can’t stop worrying at it.”
She flushed, even as her eyes started to water. “Oh geez, I am so embarrassed. I guess it’s really obvious, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “For a moment, you know, I thought, well, I thought you might be someone I’ve, uh, met somewhere.” She put on a wan smile. “I’m probably wrong though. My name is Wynona. It’s nice to meet you and, uh, thank you for your concern.”
I felt like my suspicions were ninety-nine percent confirmed but I wasn’t going to say it out loud. The Filter existed to protect us from brain-jacking, literal thought crimes where someone could take over your brain through the deep dive interface. It was like old-fashioned identity theft to the nth degree and any clues about your real life, any connections, might give the jackers the info they needed to crack the rest of your security.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my smile up and my focus on Wynona, “I can only hope it helps some. Sometimes, we need someone to talk to, to know someone cares if only a little. So, what’s his name? Your fiancée, I mean?”
“Her,” she said softly, dabbing at the corner of her eye. “Her name is Maria.” Wynona let out a soft sigh. “Uh, it’s neural damage, pretty bad stuff, you know? That’s why her parents got her under the care of the Institute here. They’re supposed to be the best with this kind of thing.”
Now I was sure, even if half my evidence was pure conjecture. “Well, they are.” Now I spoke from intimate knowledge. “Dr. Fontaine, the head of the Institute, invented the NSAF gear and I should know, I was one of the initial test subjects.” Fearing I might be giving too much away, I cleared my throat. “You know, for therapeutic stuff. Before they started making games and private use stuff.”
Despite my smoke screen, my assurances seemed to help. Wynona sniffed loudly, drawing back her impending tears. “I guess I do have some hope to hold onto then.” She rubbed her face with her hands. If she had any further suspicions that I was someone she knew, from any place, she didn’t let on. “Oh, wow, I’m being so rude. What’s your name?”
I offered a hand in friendship. “My name’s Max. I’m glad I could help.”
Wynona’s smile perked a little bit more as she took my hand. “Well, thank you, Max.” That smile quirked up with a hint of that joy I had seen on Crysta’s face before. “So, what kind of things do you like to do?”
I dodged that bullet with a flurry of vagaries and Wynona and I had a surprisingly pleasant chat. I think, by the end of it, we both had an idea who the other was but one particular exchange made it crystal clear to me why we shouldn’t pry too deep beyond the protection of the Filter.
“Hey,” I had said, “this might be prying too much but” – I paused a second – “what happened to Maria? Like, is it a hereditary condition or an accident or …” When I saw her eyes turn away, a frown on her lips, I stammered a bit as I tried to clarify what I was thinking. “It’s just that like I said, I’d been at the Institute for a few years. I’ve kind of picked up a bit and maybe I could help keep those worries away, yeah?”
Wynona fingered her ring at that, twisting it anxiously around her finger. “I guess it can’t hurt to talk about it. Maybe sharing with more people will help.” She kept staring straight ahead as she spoke, “Maria does a lot of stuff in the deep dive. Games, art, all sorts of stuff.” A faint wisp of a smile touched her lips. “You could say we met through her dive work.”
“I won’t ask the specifics.” I gave her a knowing smile, something that I hoped would comfort her. Crysta or not, Wynona obviously needed an understanding ear. “Filter.”
She replied with a faint laugh. “Yeah, exactly. But Maria’s something of a rebel.” What remnants of the smile that was there faded fast. “She didn’t like hiding things, you see. Real big on freedom of information and ideas, all that sort of thing. Besides, I mean, who actually gets brain-jacked these days? Like, no one … but that’s because of the Filter and people being, you know, smart.”
My eyes went wide. Look, my brain was the only thing I had left with my body gone to heck and the idea of someone taking that away from me through my own dumb slip-up was terrifying. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry. So, she got jacked.”
Wynona nodded slowly. “Yeah.” Her breath hitched and her voice was unsteady as she continued. “Pretty shitty jackers, too. We don’t know if they actually managed to get any information out of her brain before things went wrong. Neurological backlash and, uh, she slipped into a coma.” Thumbing at the oncoming tears, she sniffed a few times. “And, uh, that’s why we’re here. They think they can help her but, like, it’s hard to keep the faith.”
If there was ever an object lesson about keeping the dive in the dive, this was it, to let the Filter do its job and let what happens in the dive, stay in the dive.
“I know something of what you have to be going through.” I nodded because I really did know. It wasn’t some basic platitude from someone who hadn’t lived through hard times. “Like I said, this is the best place for Maria. I’m sure she’ll be okay.” I still wasn’t sure if Wynona or Maria’s family had brought her here because of the Institute’s expertise or because of the financial aid. Either way, I kept the whole news about the Institute closing off the charity work just in case.
What else could I say? I think it helped, and I like to think I’d have been just as helpful to someone I didn’t think was one of my friends in-game. Either way, by the time a smug-looking Chrissy and a put-upon Roxanne returned to the waiting room, whether Wynona was Crysta or not, I’d like to think we were friends then. Heck, we’d even exchanged communication addresses.
“Hey, I’ve got to go,” I said with a smile. I’d have given her a pat on the shoulder but I wasn’t quite there yet, not to mention that would have been an awkward reach. “My sister’s out of her consultation. Hang in there, okay?”
Wynona nodded slightly and forced a brave smile. “I’ll do my best. Good luck, yourself.” She quirked her head a little. “Maybe we’ll talk soon?”
“Maybe.” I grinned as I rolled out through the cluster of chairs. “You never know!”
/>
Chrissy was looking around the busy waiting room and buzz-squeed with delight as I rolled up. “Max! They kzt do have a chrome arm I can have!”
That was all that needed to be said on the matter. I smiled at her joy and glanced at Roxanne. “So, when does kiddo here get fixed up?”
The nurse’s eyes told me all I need to know. Chrissy had been a spitfire, sweet but demanding, but everything had gone well. “Well, between Chrissy and myself, we managed to jockey for tomorrow. Pre-op is set for seven o’clock sharp in the evening.” She raised an accusatory eyebrow. “I assume that will fit your busy work schedule?”
Ring quest or not, work or not, I was going to be there. “Oh, I’m sure I can work it in.”
She rolled her eyes back at me. “Sorry to bother zzt you so much.” She broke into giggles as we headed for the lifts. “But if I'm breaking kzt up a date with you and Kayla, I’ll understand.”
Roxanne pressed her lips into a faint frown but I cut off her silent admonishment. “Oh, don’t worry, kiddo. You know I’ll be there for you, anytime, all the time.”
The rest of the afternoon flew by. As I busied myself with the day-to-day finances and nibbling at my synthetic lunch, the satisfaction of a couple of good deeds started to shift into nervous anticipation of my next scheduled session with Kayla. The Vale of the Three Wolves was strange, so far different from all the other content I’d fought through and made all the more complicated by the utter devotion the devs forced us to pursue it with.
The realization started to dawn on me that maybe there were some good reasons that the Ring of Promise quest was the way it was. Forcing us to stay together for the whole duration of it was an obvious test of our commitment. The Filter kicking in when we started to talk about it to others not only forced prospective couples to work hard to find the quest, proving their dedication, but it kept any prospective brain-jackers from getting any inclination of a coming link between people. The reasons were all good, I had to agree, but the question remained as to whether Kayla and I were really cut out for this.
The Vale of Three Wolves: A LitRPG Adventure (Elements of Wrath Online Book 2) Page 9
