by D. J. Bodden
Ganuc’s eyes widened, and he lowered his head. “Forgive me, Mistress, but the acolyte who reported his location was deceived. The man you killed was a day laborer and a drug addict. The precinct was a trap you skillfully sprang.”
“How do you know this?”
“I know because the agent was honored by the Senate this morning, Mistress. He rode to the gate on one of the Drakes. They clothed him in white for killing Sicarius Anaxios.”
She could feel the heat rising from her chest like a stoked furnace. “His name, Ganuc.”
“His name is Alan Campbell, Mistress.”
Her flame went out. Alan?
She’d kissed him. He’d tasted like the overly fruity beer they liked to serve at the Lion’s Tail. He’d put his hands on her, this human, the man who’d murdered Weiz, and he’d known all along. Targeted her from the beginning, from the moment he’d come to the Terrace with that blind old fool. She would never be clean.
She screamed, and her clothing, hair, and skin burst into flames. She shone like a sun. The foyer of the East Temple heated up like an oven. Candles melted, then the iron candlestands melted as well. The Sicarii cowered, buffeted by the rage of her exhalation, but because they’d been warded to capture her, they suffered only minor damage while her body consumed itself entirely.
She floated as smoke. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, only contemplate the magnitude of her failure. After twenty seconds, she reincorporated and fell to her hands and knees in front of Sathis’s ashes. “Send word to every shelter and every cell. Take to the streets. Provus Considia dies today. And find Alan Campbell! Check Lot’s Terrace, the Lion’s Tail, and have our people in the Legion look into the movements of Optio Halius and Prefect Calenus. Search the markets around the South Precinct, look for a blind Imperial beggar named Horace,” she said, gasping.
“Find him, but don’t touch him; Alan Campbell is mine.”
I CHECKED THE MARKER for June’s on my map and led our little party through the winding streets and alleys, through two of the big curtain walls and into the lower city. I talked as I walked, pointing out what I’d learned about the city and people to Jeff as we went, but he seemed distracted. That suited me fine, honestly; I felt more worn out with every minute.
By the time we reached the market, my eyes felt heavy and I was feeling a little grumpy.
“You okay, Alan?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah. It’s just been a rough morning. Food will help.” I yawned and found my jaw was sore. In the real world, I might have taken a nap on one of the beanbags in the staff lounge. Food, I thought, trying to root myself by the feel of the cobbles beneath my feet and the heat of the midday sun.
“Alan!” June said.
I looked up and saw her waving at me. “Hey, June!” I said. Something about her was always comforting to me, like we’d been friends since we were kids.
She finished serving a customer and wiped her hands on her apron. “You’re alive! Is that blood?” She blinked. “Why are you wearing white?”
I grinned. “Yes, yes, and it’s a long story. I’d like to introduce my friends Jeff, Corporal Gork, and Constable...”
“Brazzock,” the Dwarf said, rising up on his toes so he could see her over the counter.
“Hi, guys. Gork and I know each other. He comes here once a week. Where’s Luce?” June asked.
Gork frowned. “She was at the precinct. The constable is my new partner.”
June covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Gork, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s... it’s not okay, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Gork said.
I felt like a heel for not asking myself. Luce, if that was the woman I’d met my first day, wasn’t the nicest person in the world, but that was statistically true of just about everybody. “I’m sorry, too, Gork. I should have asked. How long were you two partners?”
“Three years,” he said. He wrinkled his nose. “She was the only one who’d work with me.”
“Shit, man. I’m sorry, that sucks,” I said.
Jeff leaned over and said, “We only flipped the switch on the game engine a year ago.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Jeff,” I whispered back.
Jeff straightened, and I could tell he was going to give me some reason why he was being rational, not a dick, but I shook my head at him. I was about to ask more questions about Gork and Luce when a sharp, burning sensation started in my chest and throat. It made me gasp.
“Alan? Are you hurt?” June asked, looking worried.
“It’s just heartburn,” I said. “I think I need to eat.”
“That’s not how heartburn works,” Jeff said.
“It does here. June, can we get four—make that five—of the mixed wraps? I think Gork can handle two.”
“Gork definitely can,” Gork said with a smile.
I swallowed and rubbed my chest. Fuck me, I thought. This is going into my user feedback as a triple frowny face.
A minute later, June handed me the first of the wraps and I bit into it. “Mmph,” I said around the mouthful, feeling the grease, cheese, and pickle juice on my face and not caring. God, the food here was good. I wolfed down three bites before June gave the next wrap to Jeff, who offered it to the two watchmen.
Gork raised his palm and shook his head. “Go ahead.”
The pain in my chest eased to a light pressure. I sighed in relief.
“That good, huh?” Jeff asked.
“Just try it.”
He winced. “Cheryl kind of has us on this vegetarian kick.”
I grinned. “It’s not real food, Jeff. It won’t block your arteries or make you fat. Take a bite.”
Jeff blinked at me, realizing what he’d just done, after his talk of V.G.O. just being a game. “You’re right.” He held the wrap with both hands and took a big bite. His eyes widened.
“Right? Best food you’ve ever had,” I said.
Brazzock was tearing into his flatbread with an enthusiasm unhampered by manners. He had white sauce and grease all around his mouth, streaking his knee-length beard. Gork smiled as he took his two flatbreads from June’s hands and double fisted them, taking a bite from each in turn.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked.
“Two silvers and five coppers,” she said. I could tell from her expression she still expected me to come up short. If that was the case, she’d been kind to serve me and my friends.
I handed her three silvers. “Keep the change.”
“Forget what he just said, June,” Horace said, walking up to the counter beside me. “I’ll have a wrap on his tab.”
June smiled at the old man. She put the coins in her pocket and started preparing the sixth wrap.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I told Horace.
“Where else would I be?”
I shrugged.
“Why do you do that?” Horace asked.
“Do what?”
“Shrug in front of a blind man. How am I supposed to know?”
I stuck my lower lip out. “The rustle of my clothing? The smell of my deodorant?”
“What’s deodorant?”
“Now that doesn’t surprise me,” I said.
Horace grinned. “In any case, it’s good I caught you. We need to speak before you leave.”
I got that weird, scratchy feeling between my shoulder blades again, like when he told me I came from another world. “How do you know I’ll be leaving?”
Horace sniffed. “They put the white on you, didn’t they? I figure you’re close to finishing your class quest. The Halls of Illusion will be next.”
I relaxed. “Yeah, the Halls of Illusion. And I might be gone for a while, too, but let me check on my friend before we talk, okay?”
Horace waved me away and focused his attention on June as she finished preparing his flatbread.
“How are you holding up?” I asked Jeff.
He wiped his hands on his Rough Tunic (shoddy). “Good, I guess? Gork was telling me about what happened at the
precinct. Sounds like pretty crazy stuff.”
“I can imagine,” I said. “But how do you feel, personally? Having any issues with being in game?”
He reached up to grab a ponytail that wasn’t there and scowled. “My knee doesn’t hurt. I couldn’t figure it out at first, but it was freaking me out.”
“That makes sense.”
“That and the tattoos. I’ve had those since college. It’s just strange to not see them there, like I really can’t believe it.”
I nodded. “Why don’t you call it a day? We’ve proved my being here wasn’t a fluke.”
He hesitated. “Did Sandra tell you?”
I grinned. “Nah. I’m guessing Osmark is going to want to give you most of the credit for the past two days as well.”
Jeff looked at his feet.
“It’s cool, man. Really. I get it. It makes for a better narrative.”
“No hard feelings?”
“None,” I said. It was mostly true. “Rob will make it up to me. You’ll see.” Jeff raised an eyebrow at me calling Rob by his first name. I shot him a wink. “Spring for Wendy’s when I get back? I could murder a spicy chicken sandwich.”
Jeff chuckled. “I’m going home, man. But I’ll have someone grab that for you. Fries and a drink?”
“Absolutely. Large fries and a root beer float.”
“I thought they stopped making those.”
“You can order them off-menu.”
Jeff shook his head. I doubted he’d done much off-menu ordering in his life. “All right, man. It’s been real. I’ll see you out there.” His eyes unfocused for a moment, and then he disappeared.
JEFF OPENED HIS EYES to fluorescent lights, cheap sheets, and the hum of electronics. He closed his eyes again, letting the feel of his own body return. He was cold, his arm itched like crazy, and while he’d never noticed it before, his left knee felt fuller than his right, even when he wasn’t putting weight on it. Shit, he thought. I hope that’s not permanent. He was kind of okay with not remembering what it was like not to be him.
He opened his eyes again and saw Sandra at the foot of his bed. “Welcome back,” she said.
He twirled his finger in the air.
She grinned.
“Not watching Alan?”
She bobbed her head. “He’s just talking to the old man. I get that he’s really into this whole Illusionist class, but it’s just not my thing.”
Jeff grunted. “I imagine not, after what you did to that security guard.”
Sandra laughed. “Right? The girls at the gym are going to be so proud.”
Jeff laughed with her, although to be honest she made him nervous. What the hell kind of gym is she going to?
“I don’t care who you are, Mr. Osmark. I don’t appreciate interrupting my time with family just because you decided to run an experiment over the weekend.”
Jeff and Sandra looked over to see Osmark walking in with Doctor Vila, the lead civilian doctor for the project.
“You’re right, Doctor. I’m sure Sandra could have called one of the DARPA MDs. They probably could have handled this,” Osmark said.
Vila scoffed. “They’re researchers, not practicing physicians.”
“Ah. Well, maybe she thought of that, then,” Osmark said.
Vila frowned, then sighed. “Let’s take a look at him, then.” He walked over to the computer station, minimized the video feed that showed his own back seen through Jeff’s eyes, and brought up Alan’s vitals. He straightened and looked at them. “What is this?”
Osmark frowned. “I’m not sure—”
“This man is dead, Osmark. I’m not going to help you cover this up.”
Jeff felt the floor drop out from beneath him.
“How long?” Sandra shouted. She’d run to Alan’s bedside table and started pulling drawers open.
“What?” Vila asked.
“How long has he been dead?”
“Over eight minutes. There’s no point—”
She stabbed Alan in the chest with an injector, threw it away, and started CPR. “There’s always a point, Doctor! Now do your fucking job and go get me the AED! Rob, go find ice. Jeff!”
“What?”
“Help Rob! Do something! We’re not losing him. We’re not.”
I LAUGHED. “SO THE Halls of Illusion are nowhere.”
“And everywhere.”
“But they’re not so much a place as a state of mind.”
“Exactly!”
I shook my head.
“Citizen Campbell?” Brazzock said.
I turned. The two watchmen, their food finished, had their helmets back on. “We’re heading back to the precinct,” Gork said. “Need to give our report.” I hadn’t noticed it before, but his right hand and forearm were covered in burn scars almost to the elbow, like he’d stuck his arm into a furnace.
“All right, guys. It was good seeing you. Stay safe.”
“You too,” Gork said.
“Thanks for the grub!” Brazzock said, and followed Gork back toward the precinct.
I looked back at Horace. “Okay, tell it to me one more time.”
Horace straightened and crossed his arms. “The Halls of Illusion are the straight way through crooked places. They can be reached from anywhere they shouldn’t be. They are what can’t be smelled, tasted, touched, heard, or seen.”
I licked my lips and tried to wrap my head around the words. I couldn’t believe something like this was embedded in a AAA game. Half of me thought this was my punishment for drunken nights spent trolling the Overminds with half-baked philosophy, and the other half thought the Illusionist class wasn’t going to be very popular. And I loved it. I couldn’t wait to see what kind of upside-down crooked quest the game was going to throw at me next.
There was a dull boom, like one of the “Kodo” drummers hitting a Japanese taiko as hard as they could, and my chest seized up. It was like a giant child grabbed me by the torso and squeezed. I slammed down on my knees.
“Alan?” It was Sandra’s voice. “His eyes are open!”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Doctor Vila said.
It was like I was seeing two scenes at the same time. On the one hand, I saw the New Viridia marketplace, people stopping to stare at me, Horace crouched with his hand on my shoulder, mouth moving without sound. On the other, I saw Sandra’s face and the ceiling of Alpha Testing, fluorescent lights, Rob Osmark packing bags of ice between my legs. The two images were superimposed, fading in and out of each other.
“Clear!” Sandra yelled, putting her hands up. Osmark did the same.
Boom.
I gasped and rolled onto my back, mouth working like a landed fish. It was like the olive grove all over again. I needed out. I had to get out.
<<<>>>
Log out: Yes/No?
<<<>>>
“Yes!” I shouted, clawing at my chest. The prompt disappeared, but I was still there, still seeing both images.
“Even if we bring him back, he’s going to be brain damaged. Is that really—”
“Shut the fuck up, Doctor,” Osmark said.
“You can’t keep shocking him,” Jeff said. He’d scratched his right arm bloody.
“What?” Sandra said.
“If you hit him with too much current, you’ll fry the—”
“Clear!” Vila shouted.
“No!” Sandra said, reaching.
Boom.
The double image was gone. The pain was fading. I stared at the gray light through palm fronds, layers of clouds sliding over each other in the Viridian sky.
“YOU’LL FRY THE NANITES,” Jeff said under his breath.
He felt detached from this. From the three people frozen in horror around the hospital bed. From the corpse. From himself. Blood dripped from his knuckles to the floor, but he felt fine.
Drip.
“Jeff?” Sandra said, suddenly in front of him. She was pulling him toward one of the beds. “Let’s get that bandaged, okay?
”
He let her lead him. This wasn’t important. What was important was the process, the series of mechanical steps and decisions that led to this moment.
Drip.
Sandra started wrapping his forearm with gauze.
He’d been a spectator in this from the start. From the moment Alan walked in—no, from the moment Robert Osmark took the stage. He’d let others walk over his years of experience, his education, his professional publications, and his common sense.
“I’ll call the police, explain what happened,” Osmark said.
“No,” Sandra said.
Osmark gave her a sympathetic look. Maybe Jeff should do that, too. Sandra was choking back tears. Vila looked like he was about to explode. They were all so human. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything at all.
“He’s gone, Sandra. We have to start taking care of things.”
“I’m not an idiot, Robert,” she said. “There’s more at stake here than your video game. We partnered with the Department of Defense; we’re going to let them clean this up.”
And there was that edge, behind the tears. Did everyone have that many layers? Jeff felt like he was flat, laid out on a microscope slide. “Sandra, we can’t—”
“Be quiet, Robert,” she said, tying off Jeff’s bandage. “You need to not be here. This happened after you left.”
Vila was puffing like a bellows. “I’m not hiding this from the police, military or not.”
“I never said we would hide it, Doctor. We’re going to control it. Alan Campbell suffered a nanite aneurysm. It’s a known risk. He stayed in too long, got dehydrated—”
“You gave him a saline IV,” Jeff said.
“Thank you for the reminder, Jeff. Doctor Vila? Please remove Alan’s IV. Try not to bruise the skin.”
The doctor opened and closed his mouth, then walked to Alan’s bedside.
Osmark walked over and spoke softly, his eyes flicking to Jeff before he touched Sandra’s shoulder. “Sandra, I—”
She shrugged his hand off. “Not now, Robert.”
Osmark took a breath. “Ms. Bullard, I don’t know where this is coming from, but we can’t—we won’t—lie about how he died. I’m not jeopardizing my entire company for—”
