Chapter 13 - Session 0.19.24

  “Funny you should talk about pain earlier,” Julian said, peering closely at his screen and pointing out one particular line of code.

  From where Rosie perched on her cushioned chair, the text was as indecipherable as the rest. Her eyesight was good for her age, but not that good. “What does it say?” she asked, firmly gripping her mug. The coffee had cooled off a little by now, and the warm mug helped with circulation.

  “It’s telling me that Arlo’s been experiencing some pretty intense pain in the last few minutes. He had a spike at the end of his first day, and again when he woke up. But this is . . . something else.”

  “Any idea what?” Emery asked, leaning sideways to check on the man sleeping in the armchair next to her.

  Julian had pulled up another tab. “Hang on, I’m cross-referencing the ID . . . Oh! It’s the Fortitude Pool. That would explain it.”

  Emery frowned. “I avoided that. Why would anyone want to invite pain and suffering?”

  “It’s a test of mettle. You didn’t climb the cliff, so you had no need for it.”

  “So Arlo’s planning to climb the cliff? Is he crazy?”

  This caused Julian to laugh. “Sweetie, you had it easy. When—”

  “Don’t call me sweetie.”

  All sense of friendliness had evaporated. Emery’s tone suggested he’d better watch his step. Rosie’s heart swelled with pride for the young woman. This was someone who didn’t stand any chauvinistic nonsense.

  Julian had paused. He reddened slightly. “Sorry. I was just saying you had it easy, being, uh . . .”

  “Being?”

  Now he looked uncomfortable. “It’s just . . . well, you know it’s kind of overrun by male Players in there. You spent a little time in Olde Village with friendly Hector, but when it came to Midway, well, you easily hitched a ride in the Skiff. The Players were happy to take you along, just because you’re a woman. Arlo’s not gonna have that luxury. He’s a guy, and he’ll have to find another way.”

  Emery’s face darkened with anger. “Oh, sure, I had it easy getting to Midway. But I didn’t have an easy time once I got there.”

  “Oh, trust me, I believe you!” Julian held up his hands in a defensive posture. “All I meant to say was that Arlo has a reason to use the Fortitude Pool, and you didn’t. Each Player’s experience is gonna be different, especially between men and women.”

  Rosie could tell Emery was still simmering, and it wasn’t from Julian’s insensitive words just now. No, she harbored a grudge from her experience at lunch time earlier. She’d completed the game, then headed back to work . . . but now Rosie wondered if the reporter had returned this afternoon for a more personal reason than she was letting on. Maybe she secretly planned to torpedo this project.

  Still looking a little sheepish, Julian stared at the floor. “Level 1 wasn’t always so violent. It was meant to be fairly relaxed and simple, the emphasis being on enjoying life in Olde Village for a couple of days and doing a few simple challenges to reach Midway. A slice of life, you know? I don’t know why, but it seems the only Players who stick around in Free Play are—”

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  “Assholes,” Emery cut in. She looked across at Rosie. “Sorry for my language.”

  “That’s all right, dear,” Rosie mumbled, though inwardly she felt a knot of dismay. Her grandson had created a haven for criminals? The very thought left her cold.

  “They’re monsters,” Emery said, correcting herself as she focused on Julian again. “Especially Layton. Why do you encourage these people to populate the game?”

  Julian thought long and hard. “In a way,” he said carefully, “they’ve become part of the landscape. They’re one of the challenges. You could say they are the challenge now. In the early days, I meant for Midway to be heavily populated by Free Players who could come and enjoy a retreat from their normal life for the price of a monthly game subscription. The challenge for new Players, like yourself and Arlo, was simply to reach Midway, either by trading with the Midway people or finding some way to get there—you know, like climbing the cliff, smuggling themselves aboard a supply run, or various other methods. It was a fun challenge. But it . . . degenerated. Layton started it. He entered the game and started killing people left, right, and center. I mean, kudos to him—he got the job done. After that, though, he spread his poison and corrupted the other Free Players. And now . . .”

  He shrugged.

  Emery spoke earnestly. “You can put it right, though. These Players are ordinary people with headsets, right? So disable them. Block them. Start over, and bring in the sort of people you actually want to populate Midway.”

  “I will, I will,” Julian promised, waving his hands in an airily vague way.

  The reporter glared at him. “If you want this game to be successful for the general public, you’re going to have to clean it up. Level 1 should be fun, fanciful, and fantastic. Instead, it’s like the darkest, shadowy corners of this world.”

  Rosie’s grandson was steadily growing red in the face. “When I launch the game to the public, it’ll be refreshed and new, with rigorous rules in place. But for now, it’s in beta testing and . . . you know, a bit rough and ready. Arlo will have to face the people of Midway the same way you did.”

  “Not the same way at all,” Emery argued. She looked directly at Rosie to explain. “There are thirty or so Players in Midway, mostly men. What do the men want? Women. So they take them from Olde Village.”

  “Remember they’re just NPCs,” Julian muttered.

  Emery nodded and continued addressing Rosie. “Non-playable characters—very realistic people generated by the computer. The point is, they’re so realistic that they might as well be real people. Except for their personalities, which are a little . . . flat?”

  “Right,” Julian agreed. “They’re flat to start with. Basically physical creations with AI-generated minds. They do the job as background characters, but some of the NPCs need to be more than that. Like Hector, your assigned companion, and—”

  He broke off and frowned, chewing his lip as he stared at Emery.

  She stared back, obviously puzzled. “And what? Like Hector and . . . ? What were you going to say?”

  Rosie hugged her mug tight, her arthritis forgotten. The feeling in her gut was as cold as her coffee.

  Julian waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s get to that later. The thing is, you made it through the game okay. You fended off those Players and reached the exit.”

  “Yes, but . . .” Emery shook her head. “What were you going to say about Hector? Is there something different about him? I did notice he had a lot more personality than the other NPCs I spoke to. He seemed more . . . fleshed out?”

  Julian sighed heavily. “As I said, let’s get back to that.” He turned to stare at his screen. “Right now, Arlo is close to the end of Day 2. He should be heading to shelter right about now, or he’ll end up being ripped to shreds by shriekers.”