Auger & Augment
Blood of The Boundless: Book 1
www.WilsonABateman.com
Cover art by Marta Schluneger, @martaaileen.
© 2018 Wilson A. Bateman. All rights reserved.
This book is dedicated to my father, who traveled the world in search of adventure.
Prologue
When the Grey came, it came all at once, rolling soundlessly over the wooden bulwarks and stilling the night. The songs of nocturnal insects ended as though snatched from the air, rubbing legs falling still and silent as life fled in pursuit of color. Cloth and leather turned to ash and fell away, and the human occupants of the wall filled the silence with shouts of terrified recognition and warning.
The Grey reached the first houses even as the guards’ shouts did, and the cries of horror spread like fire through the town, fire that followed ash. Voices rose in the familiar sounds of martial incitement—calls to arms, calls to rally—and were then outpaced by wails of loss. Parents rushing to secure and comfort children pushed through doors that fell away to dust onto cribs cradling the empty shells of new life, life that had fled and been replaced by grey.
It was common knowledge that he had taken the Tree, and that only a blackened stump remained after he had eaten his fill. The sudden gale that raked the greyed fortifications confirmed those rumors. Matter that no longer had reason to exist dissolved on contact, motes of ash floating momentarily in the squall before simply winking out of existence. Clothing and armor followed suit, and the guards rocked back on their heels at the blast. Those pieces not yet greyed fell as straps and buckles gave way. There was no help for it though, and the men and women of the guard knew well enough the stakes. It was not a time for modesty; the only chance of survival the night held was finding the source of the Grey and ending it.
They also knew theirs was not the first town to be consumed. The elves had had the best chance at resisting the Grey, but Halmilibranth was now a miles-wide ring of ash surrounding a charred and shattered trunk. The mightiest civilization in The Boundless, built around the Tree and in many ways by the Tree, had fallen to ruin in a matter of days. Halmilibranth, which had stood unassailable since the beginning.
And so they gathered together and raced against the Grey, both against its coming and against the hope their weapons would remain intact long enough to see the night’s work done.
The first of these sorties disappeared into a gloom gone beyond night, then stumbled back out to fall upon friends and family. Weapons they had hoped could resist the Grey were put to use in savagery against loved ones they’d been forged to protect.
Light began to blossom among these soldiers as the town’s seedborn reached the fray, pushing away madness and darkness both. Armor and arms were strengthened and eyes cleared, and hope filled voices that knew better but needed, regardless, to hope.
Then, with a howl, air and voice left the magi only to be followed by a broad cataclysm of earth and fire that engulfed the group: tearing, burning, consuming. Clergymen who had gathered cried out to gods that had long since abandoned them. Not since She of Plenty had met her end at His hand had they seen fit to visit the races.
Morning broke bright and clear and still, hoping to make up for the horrors of the night. Where battle normally left its mark of pain and stink and soot, that night left only emptiness: a lonely crater surrounded by clear-cut forests and fields, remnants of a settlement scoured away by the will of a single man.
He’s not a man, those that escaped would whisper. He’s not a man, and he can’t be stopped!
Luctus is coming!
Chapter 1
I left the house early the next morning, out under the wide sky with the frost and the sagebrush. Dad was already gone, but I needed to be away from all of them. The clamor of my brothers and sisters squabbling over breakfast would only add to the internal chaos, and if I could be alone, I could be calm.
My breath fogged the air in front of me as I made my way to the bus stop.
I stewed. My brain felt full, and empty. There was a logjam somewhere, a vacuum between my ears that echoed the void in my chest. My eyes burned from more than just the cold, dry air. So much for calm.
I’d come to dread the tack of his shoes upstairs, come to dread the tone that was now simply the way he said my name. The knot in my gut pulled tighter. Nathan! The pressure would increase, and the desire to run would metastasize—too big to face.
Running was the problem though, wasn’t it? Grades were slipping, chores were left undone. The problem was clear, but no matter how I oriented myself, I inevitably ended up at “tasks avoided.” Easier to bury myself in someone else’s reality than to look up and face my own.
Running has a price though, and my reality was getting harder and harder to face.
I reached the lonely crossroad deemed close enough to the smattering of houses to serve as a bus stop. No one else was even on their way yet. Good.
Parking myself on the split-rail fence, I rifled through my backpack. I’d have to stop by the library once I made it to school; my current novel was almost finished. I buried myself in the pages; they’d give me something to think about beside the pressure inside. Gotta have my morphine. Drip, drip.
Other kids began to arrive, with billowing breath of their own. I offered half-hearted greetings in response to theirs before cursorily returning to my book. No one bothered pushing further. They had their friends and knew I wouldn’t be good company regardless. What would we even talk about?
When the bus came, I filed on behind the crowd, fine with being the last to find a seat as long as it was a seat to myself. I plopped down on the frigid plastic, working to project a chill of my own. Slouched deep into my big coat with my knees tucked against the seatback, it was clear I wasn’t interested in conversation. Safe and sound—Ender would have been proud.
The book was standard fantasy, of course. A young person on a quest to discover or destroy… what was it this time? A ring? A sword? A dragon? Regardless, I buried myself, eager to disengage the gears grinding in my brain. These problems were easy; there was a goal, there was an enemy. The hero certainly wouldn’t be left to wonder at the point of it all. They would struggle, but it would all work out in the end. They’d come out stronger.
I’d given up on finding any magical solutions in the real world. My mom discovering the books on Wicca and Druidism I’d checked out from the library had stopped me from bringing them home, but hadn’t stopped me from searching for answers. I’d tried it all. She might have thought I was toying with satanic forces, but I’d quickly learned that I was the one being toyed with. Anyone could write a book, after all, and sounding knowledgeable and sincere had no bearing on whether what they’d written was true. On top of that, my attempts had coincided with History and Psychology classes underscoring that, when people are willing to play fast and loose with evidence, they could convince themselves of just about anything.
The bus rumbled on, having consumed its fill of hormone-ridden teens.
“Mr. Hill, would you like to participate, or do you intend to read for the whole class?”
I looked up. Normally I was better at hiding my books. Today, I wasn’t sure I cared. I stared blankly at Ms. Limbrin, weighing the possibilities. She met my gaze with an expression that couldn’t be more neutral, and nodded once I’d closed the cover.
“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” she said. “Come see me after class?”
I slouched low in my seat. I didn’t get in trouble very often, and it stung. Ms. Limbrin turned back to the chalkboard. “So, change over time…” she continued, and I sank lower and lower.
Ms. Limbrin busied herself at her computer until the other students had left, then fixed me again with her aggressively
neutral stare. “Nathan, we both know you can do the work. What’s going on?” she asked.
Stupid? Lazy? I thought to myself. Faggot? whispered another voice, deeper down. I ignored the thought, turning my attention away before I was forced to face it head-on.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. And, in truth, I didn’t. Static was what I knew: overwhelming information with no structure.
She stared a while longer before conceding my ignorance. The next period’s students were beginning to arrive.
“Well then,” she concluded, “no more books in class, for a start. And let’s get that homework in.”
I nodded, eyes fixed on the ground, and she dismissed me to go to lunch.
When I got home I walked straight down to my room, private only because I was the oldest. I slung my backpack on the bed and unzipped it. The Calculus book was sitting right there within easy reach, but so was the next novel. It wasn’t even a toss-up. Calculus could always be done later.
I sprawled on my bed and read until dinnertime, ignoring the ruckus upstairs until my mom called down that food was ready. Dad wasn’t home yet, so I looked for the earliest opportunity to retreat. I wouldn’t get out of cleaning the kitchen if he was there. Mom though... she would have her hands full with the other kids. I slipped back downstairs while she was distracted convincing the toddler to eat.
Once downstairs I woke my computer, a hand-me-down from my dad. It wasn’t anything like the VR sets I’d played with on the rare occasion I ended up at another kid’s house, but it was enough to provide a distraction. There would be one free-to-play RPG or another: clear goals, easily met—a straightforward give and take. I could bend myself to running the numbers and leveling up. So what if it wasn’t the VRMMOs—virtual reality massively multiplayer online games—others played, donning their bulky headsets and truly immersing themselves in new worlds? They might not be truly fun, but my games still did their job of distracting me.
Dad pulled in close to nine. I paused and muted my game, listening to the muffled voices upstairs. I was supposed to keep a prayer in my heart, but how could I justify praying for my dad not to notice I’d skipped out on kitchen duty?
From the first foot on the stairs, I knew what was coming. I slapped the power button on the monitor and bolted for the door, opening it before he could and attempting to push past him down the hall.
Two hours later I was in bed again, listening to the static. No matter how I turned the puzzle, there was no solution.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he’d said, catching my arm.
I tried to play dumb. “I was just going to clean the kitchen.”
“Like you were supposed to do three hours ago? Nathan, I’m not stupid.”
There it was—the way he said my name now.
Yanking my arm free, I tried to continue down the hall. He followed me.
“Look,” I said, “I’m going to clean it now.”
“Nathan, your mom has been here all day, taking care of your siblings, making dinner…”
“And where have you been?” I asked.
I knew it was a cheap shot, but if he took the bait we could make the argument about that instead. It was easier than admitting what I knew: I’d let my mom down again. I’d let everyone down again.
By morning, I’d accrued enough self-loathing to ensure the Calculus got done—at least part of it. It was easy enough once I got started, it was just rare I got that far. Numbers were easy. Numbers made sense. Computer Science made sense. English made sense. Even Psychology made sense. People were what confused me, myself foremost among them. Better to leave them be. Better to slouch down in my coat with the latest distraction.
“Oh shit! The government’s buying ADACorp!”
I looked up cautiously, interest piqued. Policy was to ignore everyone—especially the other boys—but news of ADACorp warranted attention, if not actual involvement.
“What? Why?”
“It’s got to be for The Jack. Everyone’s going apeshit about it online!”
“So what do you care? Not like you’re ever gonna get it!”
Not like I was ever going to get it, but still. ADACorp was the real deal in VR gaming. Just hearing the name flooded my mind with possibilities.
My video feed at home was full of recently watched promotional videos, as well as more than a few clips of faked gameplay from test projects. The fact that ADACorp claimed there was no way to record in-game footage hadn’t stopped me from searching.
“It’ll come down in price, you’ll see. At least it would have. Now who knows what’s going to happen?”
I knew what I wanted to happen: I wanted in, whatever the game! Books being morphine, games were my heroin.
I had casually followed the progress as every major tech company worked to make their immersive VR the first, the best, the one that justified the cost. And then it all just clicked for ADACorp, and to those that had the money, any cost was justified. After that, the whole world was paying attention. The Jack didn’t creep onto the scene with incremental upgrades, moving from low-res to high, or from laggy to stable. The first users to have it installed immediately reported that there was no discernible difference between the VR experience and reality. I assumed the primate test subjects would agree.
Those reports were followed by a flood of early adopters from the upper crust—tech entrepreneurs mostly. The first offerings were in the seven figures, though every month brought refinements to the manufacturing process and the installation surgeries, as well as new technologies to care for users’ bodies while they were “out.” Still, the costs were so far beyond what a regular seventeen-year-old could muster, there was nothing to be done but lust. As if I weren’t doing enough of that already.
The rest of the day was a blur: Bio, Calc, Psych… I gleaned what I could from the scattered conversations around me, wishing for the umpteenth time that my parents had gotten me a phone instead of another sibling. It wasn’t until Computer Science that I managed to start putting the rumors to rest with my own research. The teacher wasn’t even pretending to teach, simply waving to us from behind his monitor as we filtered into the room and barking out, “Free day today!” I wasn’t the only one racing to bury myself in parsing the news.
***
They set the age limit at 16, and the country started tearing itself apart. Of course the “law and order“ crowd was for it. Right-wing talking heads had spent months salivating over the opportunity to “reduce crime” and “clean up the inner cities.” The Left had caught the bug too. Finally, they had their chance to plunk the government's teat into every mouth. Libertarians and the Religious Right were melting down and stockpiling weapons, convinced it was the end of the world, a government power grab, or both. My own church exhorted its followers not to “worship false gods,” referring to ADACorp’s technology obliquely through press releases. It wasn’t enough.
The idea had been born too quickly and had moved through Congress faster than anyone could have expected, backed by billions from Silicon Valley and an unheard of coalition of left- and right-leaning think tanks. It was just too attractive to too many people.
The game was called The Boundless, and people could choose to live there indefinitely.
Then came the protests, the counter-protests, and the bombings.
Every single American citizen would be welcome to give up their possessions and make the move to a virtual world. The intelligentsia were certain that the movers and shakers wouldn’t choose to be sidetracked by something as childish as a video game. Add to that the cost of admission—consigning every asset you owned over to the government—and it was the perfect system. Malcontents would remove themselves from the streets. People with no future and no desire for a future could go live in a fantasy world. Prisons would become a thing of the past.
With all that would come the secondary benefits: no more poverty, no more food scarcity, no more crimes of desperation. No more young people roaming the streets g
etting into trouble. No glut of unplanned and unwanted children. The pundits had a million more reasons, many of them tenuous, but once they’d been sold on the idea they ran with whatever arguments they could find. Only people who were “serious” about life would stay and participate. It was the perfect cure for the creeping lack of unskilled jobs automation had engendered.
In short, it was the perfect cure for me.
I made my decision in early November, only two weeks after the announcement and two months in advance of the beta. I held onto it like a lifeline through the holidays, through the sermons decrying temptation and the sin of rejecting God’s creation. What was one more sin though? I was already an “abomination.”
It wasn't hard to riffle through my parents’ paperwork to find what I needed. Birth Certificate, Social Security Number. They didn't even realize they'd left the keys to my freedom lying around the house. The hard part came when it was time to send the paperwork. My finger hovered over the Submit button as I grappled with what my decision might do to my mom. In the end, however, memories of my dad’s angry face—memories of the fights, and the fear, and the disappointment—won out. I only planned on staying for a year, regardless. My mom would barely have time to miss me, and, since I had no assets, I had literally nothing to lose.
I prepared to enter the game. I prepared to run.
Chapter 2
Look at red dot. Look at red dot. Look at red dot. Complete…
Bend right arm. Extend right arm. Bend right arm. Extend right arm. Bend right arm. Extend right arm. Bend right arm. Complete. Bend left arm…
Grip post. Complete. Grip handle. Complete. Grip pommel. Complete...
Place stone in bag. Place stone in bag. Place stone in bag. Complete. Take stone from bag. Take stone from bag...
Say, “Good Morning. How are you today?” Complete. Say, “I am fine, thank you. How are you?” Complete. Say...
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