“Why do you think that, dude?” David asked, his previous laxness returned.
“Because,” Hephaestus replied, “when you become absolutely perfect at something, impossible though such a notion is, you lose any avenues for growth and progress. You reach the upper limit, and that’s it – no more struggles, no more striving to be better,” he shrugged again, “end of the road, creatively speaking.”
“I see. So let me see if I get it,” the Game Master said, “so long as you accept you’re imperfect, and struggle to better yourself, you can keep growing your skills and abilities, is that it?” The blacksmith nodded his assent. “That’s some interesting food for thought, man. But well, for now, I think the case is settled, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much so,” Ilmer said, “Only, a small formality remains.”
“Which is?” asked Hephaestus.
“Well, the thing about hacking reports is that in order to fully remove them, the user must be logged out of Alterwelt. I’m sure,” the moderator said, “You must have heard about it by now.”
Recalling Altara’s story, the blacksmith nodded. “I have, and I understand.”
“What does he mean, dad?” asked Falcata.
“He means,” the smith replied, “that I did well in asking both you and Jonas to come home.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he sighed, “I wouldn’t want to be alone when I got to see my fate in Alterwelt, even if I thought it was assured.”
“Why wouldn’t you, dad?” Talwar asked.
“Because,” Altara responded in Hephaestus’ stead, “it’s not somethin’ anyone should go through alone – the fear of losin’ their passion in life. So would you two do me a favor, and kindly stay by your old man’s side when his confirmation email comes?”
“Of course we will,” Falcata replied.
“Thank you,” said Altara. “Hephy?”
“Yes?”
“Do come back in time, will you?”
“Of course,” the blacksmith replied, “just a couple hours, is all.”
“Indeed,” Ilmer said, “now please, Hephaestus? Would you be so kind as to log off?”
“Mhm. See you later, Altara. David?”
“Mister Bjornson?”
“Thank you very much for your help.”
The Game Master beamed as he replied “Glad I could be of assistance! And glad this matter has come to an end.”
Hephaestus nodded one last time. “Well, Altara,” he paused, “See you soon.”
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, logging out of Alterwelt. Now, all he could do was wait.
Chapter XX: Final Resolution
“Living life the way you want to live it, with the rules you want, the things you want, with the people you want. That’s the inspiration, the main directive that led to the founding of this company. That is our mission in this world: To give people the framework to become the architects of their own, custom-made heavens. We give the means, and the tools. The rest depends on our customers’ imaginations.”
-Jolier Vazquez, CEO Imperium Games.
The sky outside of Angus Bjornson’s window was pitch-black. There was no lonely star, no twinkling light, not even any mist of luminous contamination to lighten the blackness yawning into infinity. That morning, the world had seemed so small, so closed up for Angus as he lay confined to the four walls of his bedroom. Now, he realized, the only limit to reality, to existence itself was people’s—and his own—imagination.
The old man sighed, feeling again the pangs of old age. He didn’t reject them this time, however; instead, he welcomed them into his being. They were the mark of a man who had lived a long, fruitful life. A life worth living, he thought.
Time was a funny thing, Angus mused, as he lay on his bed, wrapped inside warm blankets, staring at the unlit sky outside of his window. Even a span as short as two hours could have an important, subjective aspect – if one was well accompanied, doing fun things, two hours felt as a drop of water in the ocean; if one was bored, two hours felt as an ocean of time on themselves. And in Alterwelt? Well, in Alterwelt, two hours could well be a lifetime, for all he knew.
The experience had been humbling. He hadn’t expected to derive any enjoyment from the virtual game his children had purchased for him. That same morning, he had scoffed at the idea of being plugged into a virtual reality machine. Now, he found himself missing the vistas, the sensations, the abilities he had but, oddest and most interesting of all, he found himself missing the people.
In a terribly short time – less than a true day, in fact, he had lived through weeks of experience. And what experiences they had been! He had seen things he could have never imagined, he had done impossible feats, he had stood up against oppression and mistreatment. And yet, he thought, there’s so much more to be done.
Angus started coughing. His chest heaved with the exertion of breathing, his lungs burned with every mouthful of life seeping into them, and yet, he didn’t rue his condition – not anymore. He felt thankful for having lived so long – long enough that other people had managed to create true alternate realities for people to experience, alternate lives to give people another chance at making things right. At times, he wondered, silently laughing at his silliness: Had anyone, in their spare time, on a laptop, in their bedroom... had someone, perhaps, programmed Heaven?
And if so, would Zinnia be there?
He couldn’t know, then and there. And if he was honest to himself, he wasn’t prepared to find out just yet. He smiled at the realization that he, in full, earnest honesty could admit to having something to live for once again. It didn’t matter if that something was virtual, or real – in fact, what was reality anyways? If reality was to be defined as what he could touch, feel, experience, well, Alterwelt was real enough.
Angus had begun the morning as a bitter, broken old man, and though his body remained useless, his spirit had been brought to life once again. A funny thing, he mused, how something as seemingly silly as a hobby, realistic though it was, could bring back meaning to a life nearing its end. The day he had been told he would never lift a hammer again, he would have let go of his life in an instant, sparing no second thoughts. Now, well, now I don’t want to go.
He looked at his bedside clock – eleven fifty five in the evening. The two-hour period had almost passed, only five minutes to go. Funny, indeed, the way time was perceived, especially when five minutes could stretch as long as the entirety of a lifetime. Angus sighed, shaking his head, a smile on his face – he felt as impatient as a child waiting for the clock to hit twelve on Christmas Eve, hoping to see old Santa crawling down the chimney, his sack brimming with presents. He chuckled, looking back at the clock: Eleven fifty-six.
“Damn it, it won’t go any faster,” he grumbled, tossing himself back into his pillows.
A soft laugh made him sit up again; he saw Amy leaning against the door, a tray of snacks in her hands. “You know dad, looking at the clock over and over won’t make it go any faster. It’s just a few minutes now. Here,” she said, placing the tray on Angus’ lap, “some fruit, to munch the time away.”
“Thank you, Amy,” said the old man, nibbling on a piece of apple. He turned towards his daughter, “Shouldn’t you be home by now?” he asked.
Amelia shrugged, “It’s okay dad, I’ll stay overnight. Gotta work the forge tomorrow, anyways.”
“Amy?”
She smiled, “Well, it’s our legacy, your legacy anyways,” she paused, “isn’t it.”
“Right. Why the sudden change of heart, though?”
She sat on the bed next to her father, “Well, I guess the day’s events have taught me to value what’s important and all.”
Angus chuckled, “That’s so fucking corny.”
“Oh shut up dad! You love it!”
Angus laughed weakly, “I do, Amy, I do.” He ate another piece of apple before asking, “Your brother?”
“T
aking a shower, he’ll be here soon.”
“Good, good.” He took yet another piece of the fruit his daughter had brought him, thinking. “Amy?”
“Hm?”
“What happens if, for whatever reason, the appeal wasn’t good enough?”
“What do you mean dad?”
“Well, just as it happened to Baratus – what if Ilmer takes the ring and just,” he mimicked an explosion with his hand, “vanishes without a trace?”
“Nah dad, that ain’t gonna happen. Besides, you had a Game Master to witness what you did. You’ll be fine.”
“Hm.” He looked back at the clock. “Three damn minutes still.”
“I told you, you won’t make it move any quicker.”
From the door, Jonas’ voice came, “He still looking at the clock?”
“Wouldn’t you believe it,” Amelia replied, “Dad’s worse than a kid at school waiting for the last lesson to end!”
“Except angrier,” Jonas said.
“Cut the crap, both of you!”
“Thank you dad,” Jonas said, “for proving my point.”
Angus rolled his eyes. He enjoyed the time he spent with his children, though he wished he could do more than just be a static decoration – little more than a sentient piece of furniture. No, he thought, that’s not nice, and not fair either. The thought brought him to Baratus, Brandon – the man had become half a vegetable, yet he tried his best to live his life the best way he could. If he did, why wouldn’t he?
He thought back on the former owner of the forge in Alterwelt, and Altara’s histrionics aimed at Game Master David. Just how much of what she had said had been true? On that evening spent on the outcropping, Altara had told him that Brandon had slipped, cracking his skull as he fell. He wondered now, was that the truth? He shrugged, deciding it didn’t matter – after all, truth or not, Altara had spun it in such a way that David had been moved by the situation, prompting him to unleash the full extent of his authority upon Liberath.
Liberath... Lionel Vazquez. As far as he could gather, the boy was related to someone important – to whom, Angus didn’t know and, in truth, didn’t care. All he cared about was that the corrupt administrator had been brought to a full stop, he wouldn’t bother anyone ever again, especially him, his children, and Altara.
“What are you thinking about dad?” Amelia asked.
“Huh? What do you mean, Amy?”
“Your eyes got unfocused there for a moment. Thinking of something special?” she smiled, “or someone?”
“No,” replied the old blacksmith, “nothing, no one, no.”
“Oh come on dad,” Amy continued, “It’s pretty obvious!”
“What is pretty obvious?”
“That you like Altara,” Jonas said, chewing through a piece of apple. “Just admit it dad, she ruffles your feathers.”
“Bullshit, of course she doesn’t! I enjoy her company, sure, but—”
“Dad, “Amelia interrupted, “didn’t you tell us that anything that came after a ‘but’ is usually what comes out of the butt?”
“Oh shut it, Amy. This is different, and I mean it. Besides, suppose it was so, how old am I? How old is she? Damn it, I’m old enough to be her great-grandfather!”
“Does it matter, though?” Jonas asked.
“Pardon?”
“Uh, yes, dad. Does it matter? Inside the virtual space, you can’t be over your forties, while she’s what, in her twenties? Thirties? It’s just different in there.”
“Nonsense, Jonny. It does make a difference. There are certain limits that shouldn’t be stepped upon, even in alternate worlds.”
“Psh, dad,” Amy said, “you’re starting to sound like that crazy lady on TV.”
“Who?”
She shrugged, taking a piece of apple to her mouth, “Some random woman saying that morality and whatnot should be the most important in virtual spaces. What’s the point, though?” he swallowed, taking another piece, “The idea behind a virtual world is that you can be freed of the constraints of this one, no?”
“I guess so,” Angus said, “but I figure there must be some limits, shouldn’t there?”
“That’s debatable,” Amy said, “but whatever. Look,” she added, pointing at the clock, “it’s twelve o’clock. The mail should arrive any second, now.”
Angus looked at the clock. His daughter was right – the email would arrive any moment. He felt a strange mixture of emotions swelling inside him; fear, excitement, eagerness, so many things churning inside the bubbling cauldron of his thoughts, that he didn’t notice the moment he fell backwards into his pillows. He barely registered when Amelia’s concerned expression appeared above him, he didn’t even feel the tremors his limbs were having. All he could feel, he realized, was a terrible need to close his eyes.
***
Sunlight hit Angus’ eyes, making him wrinkle his face. Damn it, he thought, when did I fall asleep? He tried to get up, only to be pulled back down by a surgical tube attached to his arm. “What the fuck?” he said, before he noticed the sleeping shape of his daughter at the end of his bed.
Amelia stirred when she felt her father’s movements. “Dad? DAD! How are you feeling? Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Are you—”
“Hey, hey, hey kid stop, cut it out Amy. I’m alright, see?” he said, taking a deep breath, “Strong as a bull, sturdy as a house!”
“God damn it dad!” she said with a sob, “You scared us shitless!”
“Me!? What did I do?”
“You had a damn stroke, that’s what you did!”
Angus blinked rapidly, “I... I did?” he shook his head, “Last thing I remember, I saw the clock, felt anxious, excited, and then...” sunlight, morning. It dawned on him, “Shit! How late is it? How long did I sleep?”
“Dad,” said Amelia softly, “you slept through a whole day.”
“What!? How... how did that happen?”
“I told you dad, you had a stroke. Jonny and I were lucky to find a doctor working night shift, he came to check up on you, he... never mind,” her expression darkened, concealing her emotions.
“He what, Amy?” she said nothing. “Tell me.”
“He said,” she sobbed, “he said strokes could become more frequent now. Dad,” Amelia sobbed again, “you’re dying.”
Huh, thought Angus. He knew he would hear that one day; he knew it was inevitable a doctor would say to him that his time was coming to an end. What he didn’t expect, however, was that a second, more powerful emotion would take precedence over the announcement of his impending death. “Amy?” he asked.
“Yes dad?”
“The email, did it come?”
Dumbfounded, Amelia nodded rapidly, a slight smile curving her lips, “It... it did, dad. It came.”
“Well, don’t leave me hanging!” exclaimed Angus, “What did it say?”
“It said you were acquitted, dad,” said a recently arrived Jonas. “You did it,” he shrugged, “though the excitement nearly cost you. A lot.”
Elation surged within Angus as he realized he could return to Alterwelt, and not a moment too soon! Over a day had passed, and he hadn’t logged in – he had told Altara he would return after the two hours, and now, he was over a day late! “Well, come on kids! Get me the rig so I can log in!”
“Dad, but you—” said Amelia, before being interrupted by Jonas’ hand landing on her shoulder.
“It’s alright, Amy. Dad can spend quite some time within Alterwelt,” he turned towards his father, “Right, dad?”
Angus nodded. “You’re right, Jonny. Look, kids, I don’t know how long I have left, but inside there, well, I can have weeks, months, even years,” he shook his head, “you understand, don’t you?”
“We...” Amelia sobbed, placing her hand over Jonas’, above her shoulder. “We do, dad. Let’s get you to log in!”
“Right on!” exclaimed a grinning Angus. Amelia and Jonas hel
ped him set up the neuro-virtual reality rig. He lay on his back, closed his eyes, and started the login process.
***
The plaza at Arken was teeming with life once again. People were going to and fro, caught up in their business, not noticing a burly character popping into existence in their midst. Though at first glance everything seemed unchanged, upon further inspection he realized nothing was as it seemed. The clothing styles, the weapons, armor, even things as simple as trinkets and baubles were different – a fact that stood out to his trained eyes.
Moreover, as he turned around, he realized that a large number of forges and crafting shops were either closed, or unmanned. Just how much had changed in the day he had spent without logging in?
Time, he reflected once more, was funny indeed – when a day’s time could mean months, well, anything could happen. Worried, he started away from the plaza, towards the forge. The old forge, he thought, for it was certainly a relic, now that so much time had passed.
The side streets weren’t entirely busy. Though people walked their narrow passageways, carrying baskets of items—both for crafting and for consumption—the path ahead remained clear. No obstacles impeded Hephaestus’ trajectory as he strolled towards the small expanse where his forge was located. He surprised himself by realizing how anxious he felt – anxious to return to the forge, to exert his abilities once more. Moreover, he was startled by the realization that he also felt anxious to see Altara.
Just what had she been up to while he was gone?
He ran the rest of the way towards the forge, arriving at the expanse, and stopping on his tracks as he saw the changes that befell the smithy, his smithy. The edifice was now much larger, gargantuan, even, as multiple furnaces worked in tandem, belching their acrid smoke into the air; power crystals energized an array of power tools, from hammers and grinders, to spectrometers and other gadgets. A number of people flocked into the smithy only to be addressed by clerks sitting behind corners, hastily scribbling people’s orders and requests. What the hell had happened to the forge? He decided to find out.
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