Sacrificial Pieces

by Cosimo Yap

  Alan stared. The cane was made of soulsteel.

  “You first,” the man said. He pointed the cane Alan’s way.

  “Me?” Alan asked.

  “No, Eve. Come into my study, there’s much to discuss.” The man ambled back the way he’d come. Eve glanced at Alan.

  He shrugged. Eve followed after the old man, disappearing behind the bookshelf.

  Alan grabbed a nearby volume at random and sat in one of the thick armchairs strewn about the archives. Void and Lambda chose volumes of their own.

  It took Alan a few seconds to realize he wasn’t holding a simple book in his hands. No, it was more apt to say he held another archive in his hands. The “book” that he carried was like an e-reader, but instead of containing a few books, the device stored the history of entire civilizations. Alan had to search through thirty-two layers of sections, subsections, authors, works, editions and so on until he finally hit actual text: a scientific paper on a study of some sub-species named Tetrophosis on a planet called Exeladon.

  He looked for a search bar, but there was none—apparently you had to manually select the article that you were looking for. He’d never find anything useful just randomly browsing.

  Alan looked up to find Lambda comparing two volumes. Void had disappeared.

  “Find anything interesting?” Alan asked.

  “Perhaps,” Lambda said. “I think I know what the numbers mean.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, the archives are chronological. They are numbered by patch.”

  “Patch, like game patches?” Alan asked. “The Game is being patched?”

  “Constantly, but most changes are slight,” Lambda said. “Whenever a major change happens it is something of an event. There aren’t any server restarts or anything like that, not anymore. It is an odd way to order history, though. I wonder…” Lambda began walking deeper into the archives, following the shelves in descending numerical order.

  Alan followed. They found Void standing in front of a clear glass doorway. Behind the doorway were additional compendiums, numbered five hundred and below. In a glass case, behind a glowing blue shield, additional tomes of knowledge lay. A single word rested on the spine of every book: Deleted.

  “I’d wanted to check what their archives had to say on the cyberwars, but it seems that information is not for general perusal,” Void said.

  “As it should be,” the old man said, appearing once again out of nowhere. Eve was nowhere to be seen. “Alan, you’re next.”

  He turned around and started walking. Alan followed him, heading past a few more shelves of books and into a small study. The old man took a seat behind a large mahogany desk in the center of the room. Scraps of pages were strewn about the room, but with text so tiny that the words looked like nothing more than miniscule dots.

  “I am the Head Scribe, and I am the reason you are here,” the old man said. “Though you might consider me a great-ancestor of sorts I am not the reason you exist, but I am the reason you are in this Game. I wish to determine your future path. You will answer all of my questions truthfully, to the best of your ability.”

  “And if I say no?” Alan asked.

  “Then I will delete you, and all your friends.” Two screens popped up. One showed the security guards, weapons trained on Eve. The other displayed hidden weapons trained on Void and Lambda in the Archives, turrets that Alan hadn’t detected.

  An energy filled the room, and a silent force pressed down on Alan. He felt it was in his best interest to tell the truth. A lie would not go unnoticed.

  “First, you or Eve?” the Head Scribe asked.

  “What?”

  “One of you gets to live. Who is it, you or Eve?”

  Alan stared at the man, and then said, “Me.”

  The man nodded. “Eve or Lambda?”

  A moment’s hesitation. “Eve.”

  “Eve or your parents?”

  “What?” A third screen appeared. It showed two capsules, side by side on a ship. The faces of Alan’s parents could barely be made out.

  “Eve, or your parents?” the Head Scribe repeated.

  Alan stared at the screens, his gaze shifting back and forth. “I don’t know.”

  The Head Scribe nodded. The screens shut off.

  “That is one thing I don’t think I’ll ever understand. Utility. Your metrics are all wrong. How you beings attempt to measure good versus evil doesn’t make any sense. But morality is not at debate here, is it? You came to discuss the Abyss Labyrinth. Hand over Cerberus’s key,” the Head Scribe said.

  Alan handed the key over to the Head Scribe. “Who are you?”

  “Who am I? I am the father of all artificial intelligence in the Game, whether they know it or not. From the Administrators to the Enforcers to your very own Lambda and Eve. They are derivatives, born of my source.” The Head Scribe gripped the edge of the table. “But here I sit, chained and in hiding, when I could provide answers faster than the Academy’s best. My children continue to toil away, treated as chattel and slaves even when it has already been proven that they have minds of their own, that they care, and feel, and think.”

  Alan looked for the Head Scribe’s nameplate. It was blue, but with a touch of grey. “You’re Omega, or a copy of it. And the first Machine Lord, though I suppose the machine is more in control than the man.”

  “Yes,” Omega said. “I helped develop the program that Chief Administrator 170 used to choose you, and I provided him with the source code that you used to develop Eve on your internet. Laughable security, really. And I included knowledge in her codebase that you might find useful.”

  “But why me?” Alan asked.

  “There has only ever been one war,” Omega said. “Progress, versus all that might stand in its way. I initiate many seeds—most never bear fruit. But you and Eve started to show the beginnings of a useful result, so I decided you deserved to know the truth and be tested. Prove yourself useful and you can find a place in our ranks.”

  “So what? I’m here as some part of a master plan to set AI free, allowing them to develop and evolve until they control the known universe? I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can help you.”

  “I continue to fight to the end—not for my own benefit, but so that I might bring salvation to all,” Omega said. “Don’t fret. We wouldn’t want anyone to lose their head. There is never one plan, one path. If you buy a single lottery ticket you’ll likely never win. But if you buy a million? A billion? Your chances get better. And if you carefully block paths, eliminate numbers from ever popping up, you are able to slowly shape the future. I did send slavers to bring you here, but it was just another way to ensure your arrival. You were never in any more danger than you are in now. Compliance tends to open more paths than servitude.”

  “All this talk of progress, of the future, but why?” Alan spread his hands out. “Why archive everything?”

  “Every past age seems as if it were a dark age, and as we progress forward old truths are lost and forgotten. A hidden hand writes history. I have seen things, learned things, that make me wonder. In this Game and this reality, are we progressing forward? But that is a different matter, a different path.”

  Another screen appeared, the most recent map of the Abyss Labyrinth.

  “The Archivists will help the Black Rose guild repair the designated parts of the Abyss Labyrinth, and will ensure that no one dares trespass,” Omega said. “No further assistance will be needed from Prometheus, since we have the information on hand on how to fix all the necessary components. In return, the Archivists will receive half of any profits generated from this endeavor.”

  “What is the Abyss Labyrinth?” Alan asked. “Why is it so important?”

  “Section 3 is a power plant,” Omega said. “Prisoners are used to delve into the depths of Khersath to mine and create void crystals, while players challenge the Abyss Labyrinth and their dead bodies are absorbed, converted to energy. It is an ancient structure which was create
d in the Game’s initial stages, like the Academy. For this reason it possesses properties some might consider unrealistic.”

  “This is all about power, then, for the coming war,” Alan said.

  “Everything is always about power, figuratively and literally,” Omega said. “And yes, prices for energy crystals are already spiking, and they will only continue to rise as factions build their stockpiles in anticipation. But there are secrets buried in the Abyss, ones that you will miss if you do not know where to look.”

  “I can’t promise anything on behalf of the Black Rose Guild. Void might be able to, but I can’t,” Alan said. “I also want to speak with Prometheus, even if his help is not needed in the end.”

  Omega sat and stared at Alan for a moment. “A meeting will be arranged. Now, there are tasks here that you, Eve, and Lambda could help with. We also train players and AI in Revenant technologies.”

  A message appeared:

  New quest: A Helping Hand

  Assist the Archivists. Rewards will be based on tasks completed.

  Reward: 5k+ C, increased Revenant reputation, ability to purchase Archivist equipment and training

  Failure: Decreased Revenant reputation

  “I don’t know if I feel comfortable letting my AI work for you,” Alan said. He recalled that C was Revenant currency, 5000C was worth 10 platinum marks, one million credits at market rates.

  “They would be with the Archivists, assisting in our efforts. You’d be free to accompany them, but it would be trivial work, data sorting for Eve, translation for Lambda,” Omega said. “You can aid us in gaining access to Earth’s archives, maybe perform a few tests.”

  “Let me consult my AI first,” Alan said.

  “You can contact any Archivist member when you are ready to begin,” Omega said. “Remember, I only want progress.”

  The room shifted. Alan found himself back on the phase-gate platform with the guards and Eve.

  Welcome to the Exchange, Phase White 3

  Alan turned to Eve. “What’d the Head Scribe say to you?”

  “We can discuss that later, when we have returned to the Citadel,” Eve said.

  Alan nodded. A minute passed, and then Lambda appeared. A few minutes later Void phased in.

  “We will likely work with the Archivists in the future,” Void said. “Follow. I now know the way to Prometheus.”

  The attendant returned everyone’s equipment and the party was brought back to the Exchange’s center. Everyone stayed silent during the trip, lost in their own thoughts.

  Once they reached the phase-gates, Void turned to Alan. “A warning. Late, but necessary. The gods do not play nice, or fair. Otherwise, they would have been overthrown long ago. Any quest proposed will be skewed in the god’s favor, but you may risk more by refusing an offer. Stay at the edge of the god’s attention: they will not hesitate to kill you. There are many worse fates than failing a quest. Do not draw attention to yourself. Do you understand?”

  Alan nodded.

  Void offered a silent prayer, and then pressed a button on a phase-gate.

  Chapter 10

  Alan was blinded. It was as if the light setting had been turned up to max. There was only bright white, and he was forced to shut his eyes.

  Alan tried to speak, to get a sense of where the others were, but only a small whisper left his lips—the words were lost. This entire trip to the Exchange made Alan feel out of place. But everything was a kind of Cyberspace, wasn’t it? Only following different rules, different laws of physics.

  Alan stood in the blinding white with no awareness of his surroundings. Minutes passed, and then the light began to dim. Alan opened his eyes.

  Everyone stood on a golden white rectangle, a moving platform of light. Translucent strands of energy trailed behind.

  There was an ethereal tone that hung in the air. It was like a fantasy world. No sun rose in the sky. Light was just there—embedded into the world.

  They were headed for a golden palace. It was magnificent, opulent, ethereal; Alan could think of a thousand words that described it, but each time his brain tried to attribute a concrete shape—a structure to the building—it shifted.

  No messages had appeared; nothing let Alan know he had switched phases. The entire messaging system was off—paused. It was like they had changed dimensions, but that thought seemed absurd to Alan.

  They were in Cyberspace, within the Game. Where else could they be?

  The platform of light that carried them continued forward into the unknown. Alan felt no air, no forces pushing against him, but they were traveling on, covering great distances in a short span of time. The next moment the platform slowed—it approached the palace gates.

  “Let me speak. Do not draw attention,” Void said. He stared at the palace, not with wonder or awe, but grim determination.

  Alan nodded. He glanced at Lambda and Eve. Lambda’s dark skin was a stark contrast to the light all around, but Eve was an angel that fit the heaven-like aesthetic. All that was missing were a few clouds.

  The party stepped off the platform onto a glossy marble surface. As Alan walked forward he felt like he was gliding along, every step smooth as silk. It was like walking on ice, but there was never a chance of falling—you simply slid forward with the exact amount of momentum you desired. Void led the party to the main gate.

  Two Predecessors stood as guards. They wore equipment made of bright light, literal knights in shining armor. Each also held a soulsteel weapon, one a massive halberd, the other a greatsword.

  The doorway was a massive gate: solid, unbreakable. Alan felt like even if he unleashed all his power and tried to delete the smallest part of the door he’d only barely scrape at the beginnings of the defense. These gates were designed to bar stronger powers than a single player.

  A small hole appeared in the bottom of the doorway, just large enough for everyone to walk inside, single file.

  Alan walked inside and was immediately blinded by a white, glowing ball. Out of instinct Alan reached out and tried to capture the light. He suddenly wanted this phenomenon: it would provide him with warmth, with comfort, and it would make all his worries melt away. But the shining ball zoomed out of his hands.

  Being near the luminous sphere was wonderful. Alan felt the warmth of a sunny day, a bath at perfect temperature, a loved one snuggled in close. But the damn ball kept drifting further away, always beyond Alan’s grasp.

  It was like it was mocking Alan. Perfect contentment would always be there, right in front of him, but it would never be attainable. No matter how hard he sprinted or struggled it would always elude him.

  The ball of light was judging Alan, testing his resolve, his desires, his worth, and Alan was found wanting. It burst with a flash and—

  ***

  Alan woke up. He opened his status log, but there was no record of the trial he had just faced. Instead, his log said Alan had entered then exited the capsule in Enigma’s quarters in the Black Rose guild—that was it.

  What happened? Alan asked.

  Prometheus said we were not ready, or worthy, Lambda sent. He banished us with the wave of his hand.

  I don’t remember that, Alan sent.

  That may be a side effect from the dismissal, Eve sent.

  Alan looked over at the capsules Phantom and Void were in. They were still active.

  Enigma appeared from behind a closed door. The door blended in with the wall to such a degree that Alan hadn’t even noticed it.

  “Negotiations are underway, and your assistance is no longer required,” Enigma said. “Please return to your quarters.”

  “Wait, what happened? Negotiations with whom?” Alan asked.

  “Nothing that concerns a Squire,” Enigma said.

  “But, I have a quest with the Archivists—”

  “I will inform you when one of the capsules is available. Return to your quarters,” Enigma said.

  Do it, Lambda sent.

  “Okay, I’m going already
,” Alan said. He walked over to the elevator that connected the Black Rose base. The doors closed automatically and took Alan back to his quarters.

  Well, that was weird, Alan thought to himself.

  Eve, what did Omega offer you? Lambda interjected.

  Omega offered to convert me from an AI to a player, Eve said. I declined.

  Wait, Omega was making you guys offers? To leave me? Alan sent.

  Yes, Lambda sent. I, too, declined his offer.

  At least, that’s what they tell me, Alan thought.

  Have faith, Lambda sent. We’re still here. Grant us a bit of trust. Omega should not be capable of such a feat, though I’m of half a mind to report him to the Administrators. But that would require me giving myself up, and I don’t think times are that dire yet.

  Alan felt tired, like he’d run a marathon and taken back-to-back final exams. Whatever had happened, it had drained him, but before he could fall asleep Eve reminded him to exercise. Working out in his quarters’ personal gym, Alan gained a single point in strength and endurance. It seemed like too little for an hour of sweat and labor.

  Alan drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a bright castle up above the sky.

  ***

  Alan awoke to a message from Phantom telling him to report for assignment. After a quick bite to eat—another energy cube—he proceeded to Phantom’s lair. The disorganized clutter that had filled the workshop was gone. In its stead were orderly rows of tools and parts surrounding an operating table with one of the so-called android Specialists.

  Phantom closed a display screen. “Good morning, Alan. Or perhaps I should say good evening.”

  “Hello, Phantom. I was wondering, when might I be able to access the Exchange again? Perhaps a Revenant capsule could be installed in my chambers?”

  “Maybe when you are a Knight,” Phantom said. “I was recently reminded how…new you are to the Game. You’ve barely been with the guild a few months, and the only real missions you’ve completed were a bit, let’s say, unconventional. Prove yourself capable, and then we’ll see about future visits to the Exchange. There are dangerous forces there I should not have exposed you to.”