Alterlife

by Matt Moss

I’m still broke and need to play the game. I’m so close to making a fortune, I can feel it. I just need this weekend to work.

  She strokes my arm with her fingernails. “So, what do you say?”

  “I don’t know, babe. Free day at the zoo means everybody and their brother will be there. You remember last time? We couldn’t even see the animals over all the people who shoved their way to the windows.”

  “Aw, come on. It beats sitting around the house like we normally do.”

  “We only do that because we don’t have any money. Which is why I told the boss I would pick up some shifts this weekend.” I lie because I need to game. For us.

  She pulls away, disappointed that I have to work, and I feel guilty for letting her down. “You didn’t already tell the kids that we’re going, did you?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I didn’t want to get their hopes up.”

  I sigh and set the glass on the coffee table. “Any other time, I would take you all. But right now, we need the money, babe.”

  She turns to me in the seat. “We’ll get by. We always do. But time is the one thing we’ll never get back. One day the kids will be older and we’ll wish we would have done more while they were little,” she says.

  “Dammit, babe, you think I don’t know that? Trust me, I know. But I’m tired of just getting by. I want more. More for all of us.”

  She takes my hand and leads me to the kids’ room. Inside, lying fast asleep on their blue metal frame bunk beds, I see my son and daughter. “Look at those miracles. We made those, you and I,” she says, speaking low. “Everything we could ever want is inside this house right now.”

  We stare at the kids together for a moment and watch them sleep, peaceful and content.

  She’s right. This is everything I could ever want. My family means the world to me, and all that matters is that we’re together, going through life’s struggles and joys with each other.

  She eases the door shut and we go back to the living room. “Look, John, I know you want more for me and the kids. I do, too. But above all else, I want happiness. And thankfulness is happiness. Thankful for what we do have, and that we’re together. Money can’t buy that.”

  I raise my eyes to hers, fully believing that money can buy happiness. “Honey, I hear what you’re saying. But I fully believe that money can buy happiness. It can get rid of these chains that are holding us back and grant us freedom. Freedom to live how we want. Just imagine if I worked from home and could be here with you and the kids all the time. Imagine if you didn’t have to work at that diner anymore.”

  She cocks her head and smiles. “Well, there is that. That would be nice.” She gives me a kiss. “John, there’s nothing wrong with dreaming, and chasing those dreams. I’m just saying that you can be happy right now, right here. Money is nice but you don’t need it to be happy.” She takes my hand and tugs me towards the bedroom.

  It’s not often that she does that—takes the initiative—but when she does, I know it’s going to be a good night.

  For the next hour, she shows me what it’s like to live in the moment.

  7

  THE HUNTERS AND THE HUNTED

  Back at the guild, the Black Knights are preparing for a raid, gathering potions and other supplies, repairing weapons and armor. Finally, this is the chance for me to make some money. The debt that I owe Gamemaster Deakins and Eldra still weighs heavy on my mind, and I’m aware of how angry they’ll be when I come rolling up a week late to deliver the money that I stole from them.

  If this raid goes as well as I hope, the interest I pay back with the money is sure to please them.

  I’d be lying if I said the thought of stealing from the guild’s bank didn’t cross my mind. Every time I think about how easy it would be to stroll in there with my cloak of invisibility, take some loot, and walk out, I quickly dismiss it. I’m not a thief. In fact, there’s nothing I despise more than a thief.

  What about the map? You stole that from the guild’s bank, remember?

  That was different. It was… unearned treasure that I had to work for. And besides, the guild never noticed it; they probably get lots of treasure maps only to bury them under the gold, thinking them trifling and a waste of time. I could have taken a pouch full of gold or a rare gem, but I didn’t.

  I meet Cervial in the hall outside the guild’s bank. “Ah, Ace. Are you set and prepared for your first raid?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. How many we got going?”

  He opens a page and checks his ledger. “As of last note, one hundred and forty-two.”

  My jaw drops at the number. I’ve never even heard of a party that large. “Wow. The most I ever had was twelve. It was another game, awhile back.”

  “The gaming world has changed a lot since then, my friend,” he notes.

  “Everything has changed a lot since then.”

  “Indeed.” He gives me an apologetic look and tucks his ledgers tightly under an arm. “Pardon my leave, but I must be going to meet with the Guildmaster now. Good luck out there.”

  “Wait. What should I do now? Where do I go?”

  He turns back, grins, and holds a hand out to everyone passing around us. “Just follow the crowd.”

  I watch him swiftly walk away, like something pressing is taking place. His gait, the nervous way he talked, and the beads of sweat on his brow makes me think something big is going down with the Guildmaster. Something important.

  Do they know that I stole the map? Did Gage already tell them about Thal’s treasure?

  No. For some strange reason, I trust Gage.

  Even after just meeting someone, there are certain things that can be immediately telling about them. The way they stand, shake your hand, or look you in the eye. Some do it to make you think they can be trusted—a used car salesman, for example.

  This wasn’t the case with Gage. Though he tried to kill me and Deana, something about the guy makes me trust him. I can’t explain it; call it a gut instinct. It’s the way he carries himself and the invisible energy that he relays to the world around him.

  The commander of the raid party walks past me with what’s presumably his best men at his side. All five of them look like experienced, hardened veterans, each of them carrying themselves with the utmost sense of pride and confidence. And the fact that their imbued weapons and armor are glowing with magical energy doesn’t elude me either. I wonder how rare and powerful they truly are.

  Nothing like Thal’s.

  I jog up beside them and in front of the commander. “Excuse me, sir. Are you the leader?”

  He turns his nose up at me, and one of his men shoves me aside as they keep walking.

  Yeah. You’re the man. That’s good to know. I’ll be the one showing you up on the raid.

  But who am I kidding? I’m not even a week into the game, and my character has the strength of a twelve year old child.

  But those items of mine make up for the difference…

  I have to be careful about how I use them so that nobody knows.

  “Don’t mind them, new guy. They treat everybody that way,” a guy says beside me. “Suppose that makes them good leaders, though.”

  “Treating people like they’re nothing doesn’t make someone a good leader,” I bitterly reply, staring at the five. Too many times have I seen a boss or manager abuse their authority, thinking they’re above everyone else. They’re not.

  The commander and his men start barking orders to other guild members who are nipping at their heels.

  The guy beside me speaks again. “Still, they haven’t led us astray yet. This is our tenth raid, and the other nine have gone over extremely well, as you may have heard.”

  I take notice of the guy next to me for the first time. Short, red hair with a goatee, basic leather armor, and that all too familiar gleam of fame and fortune in his eye. He’s a noob like me.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Ace. You?”

  “Patrick the Brave.�
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  Original. “Are you?”

  “Am I, what?”

  “Brave.”

  “Not really. I just thought the name sounded cool.”

  It’s actually not that bad.

  I watch as the commander and his men mount up on different shades of horses, making ready to leave. “What’s that horse the commander’s riding?”

  “That’s a Nightmare. Ferocious beasts they are. Expensive, too. And the commander’s name is Strider, by the way.”

  Now that’s a cool name.

  “Noted.” I turn to him with a grin. “Well, Patrick the Brave, your name sounds much cooler than Ace, I’ll give you that.”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. Ace is a pretty badass name, dude.”

  I wonder how old this kid is. I say ‘kid’ because that’s what I envision everyone in Alterlife to be in the real world. Or at least a teenager. In the game he looks my age, late thirties, and desperate. But for all I know, he’s twelve. I still don’t understand how AI chooses avatars.

  The commander, Strider, sounds a horn, and within moments, the Black Knights come pouring out of the guild doors and down the steps--the ones still inside the keep go flooding past Patrick the Brave and myself.

  Patrick looks to me. “Ready to go?”

  A quick check of my inventory, as usual. “Ready.” We begin running with the others, following the commander and his men out of Condren and into the wilderness.

  “You got any idea of where we’re going?”

  “No,” Patrick hollers back amidst the clamoring of boots and armor around us. “Hey, Ace, you wanna stick together on this raid?”

  Not really. I work better alone, and don’t want anyone knowing about my items. But I still need to earn the guild’s trust, and making friends is the best way to initiate yourself into any organization.

  Which reminds me, I really do need to read that Carnegie book Jenny got me last Christmas. “Sure. That sounds good.”

  “We’re going to kill a Daemon,” a man says, jogging beside us. “That’s what everyone’s been saying.”

  “A Daemon? Has one ever been killed before?” Patrick asks incredulously.

  “No. That’s why we’re going to be the first.”

  Patrick looks to me, his eyes eager for glory. “First a dragon; now a Daemon. How about the Black Knights, eh? We’re making history in Alterlife!” He cheers out loud and raises a fist to the sky. Nearby people raise their voices in a rallying cry.

  I shake my head, and try to keep my mind on the task. Preparation for this raid is a necessity for the feat that I want to accomplish, and I need to focus. Inside my tunic, I notice the Amulet grow warm, recalling the feeling right after the mention of the Daemon. Looking to the right, I see a tower far off in the distance, looming high and thin like a spire. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the structure.

  Patrick replies. “That’s the overwatch of Condren. It’s said that a group of seers keep watch day in and day out, protecting the city. But others say that the undead hold residence there. I’ve heard others say it’s a group of warlocks that eat people. Who knows? Nobody goes there.”

  Interesting. “Protecting the city from what?”

  “How should I know? Dragons, Daemons, other guilds, perhaps.”

  The Amulet grows warmer on my chest, seemingly pulling itself towards the tower.

  Coincidence?

  I make a mental note to check it out when we get back.

  After the debt is paid to Eldra and Deakins.

  A Grandmaster Mage, one of the five, casts a mass spell of haste over the guild. Green magic swirls around the group and we all run at twice the normal pace.

  “Woo!” Patrick cries out.

  I don’t say anything, but I feel the same way he does. This is awesome.

  Two hours later, we reach our destination.

  The Black Knights gather behind the commander in droves as he reins to a stop, our numbers approaching two hundred on this raid. I look up and down the line, then to the valley below us. The ruins of an ancient temple lie nestled in the center of the valley, with an altar out front, all of which is painted white. In the middle of the altar, a massive, bloody pentagon contrasts against the white stone; a fresh, deep shade of red from what looks like recent sacrifices.

  Without looking back, the commander kicks the black horse forward and the rest of us, save for his best men, follow him on foot. Halfway there, the four other horses get spooked and want to turn back. The commander’s men curse the beasts, unable to control them, then jump from their backs, allowing the animals to run free--their eyes wild, and snorting as they gallop away. The Nightmare, however, shows no fear as Strider nudges the mount onward and into the valley.

  The smell of smoke and sulfur tug at my senses as we approach the Daemon’s lair. Behind the sacrificial altar, a large entrance is cut into the stone temple, large enough for a decently sized yacht to go through. Human bones hang from the pillars surrounding the altar, and are scattered around the bloody, five-pointed star and surrounding ground.

  The vigorous sense of adventure and glory quickly diminishes from the group as each of us survey the scene.

  “You can feel the evil in this place,” a woman next to me whispers, and rubs a chill from her arm.

  Looking into her eyes, I can see that she’s afraid. Looking at all the faces around, I see that everyone is. Inside my tunic, the Amulet grows hot again, but it doesn’t burn me.

  I want to tell her that it’s just a game. That there’s no reason to be afraid. But I can’t because it would be a lie. I feel the same as they do. The more time I spend in Alterlife, the more it becomes part of me. The thought of dying in the game terrifies me now more than ever because I could lose everything. And I’ll be damned if someone loots my corpse and takes my items when I’m gone.

  I’ve come too far to fail.

  The commander walks his Nightmare upon the sacrificial grounds and spits on the symbol. He rallies his four best men and they’re the first ones to go inside the temple.

  With trepidation, the guild follows.

  “This place will be our tomb,” a man beside me says upon entering.

  I turn to Patrick the Brave. “You ready for this?”

  He shakes his head, face pale like he’s taken on a sudden illness.

  Down into the earth we go, diving deeper and deeper by the light of a hundred torches, by way of a thousand stairs. Inside the temple, it’s hot like a sauna, and reeks of rotten eggs and decay. The bottom of the steps opens up to a great room, the size of a distribution warehouse back at home. Torches on the walls behind us are lit, and more torches burn upon each of the great pillars inside the massive room, lining the main hall. Outside the hall, the room fades to black, and I wonder how big the place actually is. I wonder what lies in the shadows.

  We march down the hall towards the bright, red light that shines from another massive door on the opposite end, led by our brave, fearless leader.

  He’ll be the first to die.

  Most people who try to be a hero end up failing miserably. For most, doing a deed that they might consider brave and honorable in the eyes of others is what they desire. To gain the recognition of their peers. To have the opinions of others fill some void that they can’t fill themselves. Oftentimes, they end up hurting others in the pursuit of such glory.

  They can’t even see that their unwavering pursuit is their downfall.

  Glory makes men blind.

  The temperature rises as we approach the door, flushing hot against my face, the heat waves flooding out of the grand entrance. Closer now, the room looks as though it’s burning but there are no flames to be seen. The commander stops at the entrance and turns to us. “This is it. Prepare yourselves,” he says in a deep, baritone voice.

  We gather behind him and walk through the door in droves.

  The room is so hot, I can feel it washing over my skin, through my clothes. Acrid stench chokes my nose and stings my eyes. Around m
e, players are hacking and coughing as they march down a rock bluff to our left, and onto the cave floor below. The room rivals the size of the guild’s bank, if not a little larger. Stalagmites and stalactites jut from the floor and ceiling around pockets of steam that burst from somewhere deeper and hotter inside the earth.

  I imagine this is what hell looks like.

  Patrick and I reach the main floor, the commander and his men walking towards the center with the bulk of the guild right behind them. Strider signals everyone to mind their steps to avoid the large cracks and the random bursts of steam that may come from within.

  My eyes scan the room for any movement.

  Strider stops suddenly and holds a fist up, commanding us to halt. Ahead, something moves from behind a massive pillar of stone. The leader pulls his imbued sword, the blade glistening with white light. His four best men each equip their own magical weapons, and the rest of us draw whatever we have, ready to meet the beast.

  The monster staggers out into the middle of the cave, looking around like it has lost something. Red-skinned, gaunt, with eyes that shine bright like a star, it stands twice as tall as a man. Bat-like ears and a pug nose, the tips of what appear to be horns breaking through its skull.

  Its eyes turn to us.

  With a hideous shriek, the beast settles back on its haunches and lunges towards the commander. Its giant hand, nails sharp as swords, claws at the commander on horseback but is stopped by his shimmering sword. Instinctively, the guild spreads out and begins attacking the foul beast.

  The Grandmaster Mage conjures a spell of ice and sends glacial shards towards the demon’s face. I see its health bar drop drastically. Everyone else can see it too, and attacks with everything they have.

  Beside me, Patrick is putting work in with the bow.

  I hang back. This is too easy.

  With its health bar nearly depleted, the beast cries out, this time the sound blasting through the cave, rumbling the foundation, causing debris to fall from the ceiling. With a surprising surge of energy in a last-ditch effort, the demon turns away from the commander and towards the Mage that’s conjuring another spell, seeing him to be the greatest threat. Again, the Mage summons a spell of ice that would surely deliver the final blow. But the Daemon is faster than anyone expects and lunges at the man, taking him unawares, and mauling him despite the fatal attacks it takes from the rest of the guild.