Shackled, p.10
Shackled, page 10
She’d stopped listening halfway through that last sentence; that was his second mistake in the last two minutes: she hated hearing details about the game.
“I look forward to getting a lens filter out of this. Eight percent of users report infrequent issues with color. If we don’t get good data out of this after another week, start him on the low-dose psychedelics.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get you the report as soon as it’s ready.“
“Anything on Twenty-Nine?”
“An extended period of erratic, intense fear response. It lasted a little under four hours, all told. That sounds like a Night Terror to me, even if we can't see detailed in-game functions from the controller AI to know for sure. Afterwards, we actually saw immersion drop to fifteen percent.“ He winced as he admitted it; he’d meant to soften that particular blow. Maybe he was getting sick. Too many mistakes today.
“WHAT?!” It wasn’t a screech because Dave refused to define it that way, but it made his blood run cold.
“Hold on. If it had been an issue, you would have been the first to know. At the height of the Night Terror, he blacked out completely, and the BP and heart rate are consistent with a fear response and probably an in-game death. We targeted the combat portion of the Night Terror subroutine to be theoretically winnable; Psych says that way, when they lose, they either feel defeated and are less likely to try again, or they go the other way and intentionally trigger it repeatedly until their autonomic response starts to kick in before they can trigger the event again. Immersion levels don’t track properly when there’s only autonomic data coming in. It regulated itself when he regained mental function three seconds later.” Dave was specifically not telling her that the numbers had actually hit zero percent immersion for one-point-three seconds after normal brain activity was restored. He’d deleted the data from the analytics software himself. No sense getting anyone fired over what had to be a monitoring issue.
“Good. I almost sent you to visit Hans. We’re done for today. Go home and get some rest; you’re off your game.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He couldn’t agree more.
She was gone before he’d fully risen from his chair, and Diggy blinked back to life as he passed. The little vacuum spun its way free of the corner, so he held the door for it. It zipped out of the meeting room and away down the hall, knocking into people’s feet as they walked. Each employee chuckled and waved to the frantic robot. The quirky device was acting like it was late for an appointment, which they could all relate to.
Dave hit the elevator request on his wearable, and it was waiting for him by the time he reached the end of the hallway. He needed a drink.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chief Engineering Officer’s Mobile Command Post, World of Edison
Bert grinned excitedly as he peered through the glowing portal into the colorful world beyond. His Multiversal Exploration Myopic Engine (Mark IV) hovered in place via periodic pulses from its atmospheric impulse generator. Like the Mark I, it was a spheroid contraption slightly smaller than a basketball. Four sleek fins swept off of the back at equidistant points on the body, giving it a profile similar to an old-fashioned aerial bomb. Mounted opposite the fins was the ocular mechanism, a multi-aperture camera with video, thermographic, and esoteric energy recording capabilities.
The center of the body sported a ring of tiny platinum antennas. Electricity crackled between them and generated the crowning achievement of his entire nation’s most recent development sprints: the Anti-Magery Electric Residual Interference Conversion Arrestor field. Bert grinned to himself at the thought that his MEME would be bringing the full power of AMERICA to the strange world.
After the message that he’d need to change classes to enter the world, Bert had backed way the hell off. He’d spent too much time and effort becoming CEO to throw it all away on some nerdy wizard crap. That’s why he’d been so disappointed when his first MEME (a way better name than Extradimensional Explorer Drone) had passed through the portal, instantly turned into a silver panther with a single, glowing red eye, and bounded off out of sight. It had left the Edison Pylon on the ground, just out of reach.
“Mission Start: Columbus Protocol.” At his words, the Mark IV came to life, speeding through the portal with a vwoom. As it passed through, it gained color, its body rippling from flat gray to a beautiful aluminum sheen. The AMERICA Field hummed to life around it, a hazy curtain of almost-invisible energy. It did a short lap around the visible area, then came to a stop in front of the portal, its large red eye staring back at him.
Bert nodded to himself. They’d lost the Mark III as it had left their visual field, though from the roaring and screech of torn metal, it had likely been attacked by the local wildlife.
“Columbus Protocol, Squadron One: embark.” The Pylon Constructor rumbled to life. As its four hydraulic legs rotated seventy-five degrees and released joint locks one and three, it entered Quadrupedal Mode and loped through the portal like a metal pony.
The drone met it as it came through and snapped into the dock on the larger machine’s forecastle. The AMERICA field expanded as more power passed through the emitters, and the Constructor did not transform.
Resisting the urge to clap giddily, Bert maintained his composure as he gave the next order.
“Deploy Pylons one and two,” he said, and the Constructor complied.
Six spider-like arms unfurled from the device’s sides, reaching onto the robot’s back and latching onto the Small Edison Pylons stored there. They lifted free without incident, and the machine’s legs moved to their equidistant configuration for stability before it set the units on the flat stone shelf where it stood, only five meters from the portal.
“Engage,” he said, and the pylons deployed their hydraulic anchoring spikes, driving cleanly into the stone with ear-shattering thwumps.
“Alignment calibration success,” a metallic voice said in his ear. Bert nodded at no one again.
“Deploy pylons three and four,” he commanded.
The machine spun in place, its arms twisting to grab the last two devices. It approached the portal, stopping just in front of the glowing hole in space. The arms reached around to either side, disappearing from view. Bert held his breath. This was where things might get tricky.
“Engage,” he said once more, and two more shocks rocked the robot’s surroundings.
“Alignment calibration success,” it said again.
“Activate the AMERICA field,” he responded.
Blue arcs of electricity hummed to life as they spat electrons into the air. Within moments, the energy had stabilized, flowing from pylon to pylon and creating a perimeter within which the laws of science would prevail.
Bert—NVictus, he reminded himself. The devs say I gotta work more on ‘feeling immersed—ordered the constructor to back away from the portal as squads two through five prepared to sortie. It was almost time. He leaned forward and licked his lips in anticipation.
This was the culmination of weeks of work. The AMERICA field, even the MEME deployment, had all been prepared just for this moment. Any. Second. Now…
“Pylon stores depleted,” the constructor said. “Awaiting orders.”
Bert struggled to keep his voice steady as he held in his laughter. It was happening!
“Construct additional pylons,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Pillowed Anvil, City of Sunblade, Kingdom of Eastmere
“I SAID I’M SORRY I WAS LATE,” Korrash shouted for the third time.
“I DON’T THINK THAT’S APPROPRIATE INFORMATION,” Sarah said with a grin on her face. What did she… oh.
Korrash was tired of shouting. He needed a way to deal with the eternal clang of hammer on metal that filled the Inn where Sarah Magewright, self-styled Armorsmith Extraordinaire, somehow spent most of her time.
He willed his Aura into being, envisioning a dome of calm, blue energy surrounding the small table where the two sat, “enjoying” lunch. With a thought and a release of breath like he was lifting something heavy, he pushed his Mana into the perimeter of the effect.
The air shimmered and grew thick around them, and the noise receded. Now it was merely annoying, like being next door to an active smithy instead of being trapped inside the anvil of one.
“I’ve missed you,” he said in the relative silence. “We haven’t been able to do much together since I’ve been so busy killing vampires.”
“At least the payout was good, though, right?” Sarah reached into her belt pouch and pulled forth a stack of gold coins. She put them on the table, lifting them up and clinking them together like poker chips.
Korrash’s mouth went dry as he stared at the coins. Images of himself using his magic to burn the Arcanosmith to ashes and take her coins assailed him. He gasped for breath and clenched the table until the images passed (Conviction 2 failed, but became a success due to other factors).
“Whoa,” Sarah said. “Your eyes just got all freaky.”
He had told her about his misadventures with Amnach and his new dependence on wealth, though he’d left out the part where he’d awakened a sentient force of nature that actively encouraged cultish activities and wholesale slaughter.
“Yeah, they do that now,” he managed. “Can you… put that away?”
She obliged, and he breathed easier.
“So before all this started, I was thinking of taking a trip up to Gnottingham,” he said.
“Just select your specialty through the book interface like everyone else,” she laughed, punching him on the shoulder and almost tipping his chair over backwards.
He sucked in air through his teeth as he responded. Those gauntlets hurt!
“Yeah, but I’ll need tools and stuff anyway, so I might as well take them from Gnorma.”
“You mean buy them from Gnorma?” She looked at him with a slight frown on her face.
“Yeah, what’d I say?”
“Take them from Gnorma.”
“Oh. Yeah, sorry. That’s what I meant.”
“Taking them was what you meant?” Her frown increased by a noticeable order of magnitude.
“Yeah. I mean, no. Getting them from her. Whatever.” He was starting to wonder if he knew what he meant.
Her frown lessened. “You’re going to have to buy things sometimes, you know.”
He winced. Hearing those words was kind of painful. Besides…
“Well, that’s what I was thinking about. Now that I’m uncursed and physically dependent on money, I’m going to need to have more than this copper piece before I go get into any fights.”
When he’d come back to town, everything had been normal. He’d sent Pasha back home, avoided walking anywhere near the stables so as not to meet that horrible Stablemaster, and headed to the inn. All had been fine, until he’d seen the castle’s watchtowers standing tall over the other buildings.
I bet there’s a vault in there. The thought had come unbidden to his mind, but it had almost overwhelmed him. He’d walked two blocks out of his way, visions of tearing the castle walls down and taking the gold inside for himself obliterating any rational thought.
It had been a lucky Conviction roll that had snapped him out of his fugue state. He was concerned that the urges he’d gained from his Fae Arcana might be interacting badly with the superiority instinct of the elves.
“Well, if you need money, I could –” Her mouth snapped shut mid-sentence as his face contorted with rage.
“Shut up. I don’t need your damned charity.“ He literally snarled as he spoke (Conviction 2 failure).
Hurt bloomed in her eyes, and she drew back.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m still getting used to this… Whatever it is. That was the hunger talking, not me.”
“Right,” she said. She still looked sad, though (Insight 2 success). “So if you could make money any way you wanted, how would you do it?”
This time, he stopped himself before he said what he was thinking, which was ‘fire and Death for those who oppose me’ (Conviction 2 success).
“Honestly, literal robbery is the best option,” he said, then continued before she could react. “Well, the best option here in town. If I knew we’d meet some bandits between here and Gnottingham, we could just kill them, and I could take their money. That would be a win-win.
“It’s less optimal to just find money. We could raid a crypt or something, if we knew there would be good loot.”
Her eyes lit up. Visibly excited, she pulled out a tattered piece of paper that, from the look of the tears in the corners, had once been posted on a bulletin board.
“How about a rescue mission with salvage rights?”
Korrash pondered the idea as he took the notice from her. It was handwritten and simple, indicating that this was not an official request, but something put together by a private citizen.
“Missing,” it read. “Jareth Cormorant and three other municipal sanitation engineers, last known location SS-3GG Subsection 12. Presumed dead. We just want closure.” There was contact information further down for those who could provide proof of the fate of these workers.
“I think this will work,” he said. “Where is this location it’s talking about?” As he asked her the question, he sprang from his seat and let his Aura fade.
Sarah shouted her reply.
“THE NEWER PART OF TOWN, YOU SAY?”
She pantomimed something, then went to speak to the owner, dragging him along.
They had a conversation that he understood most of. They were going to a fort, and there was food in the back. For the long trip, maybe?
He followed Sarah into the kitchen, then out into the small enclosed garden where the inn grew its herbs. The sound of hammer and anvil followed them, even there.
She grabbed an iron ring set into a wooden platform in the ground, then gave it a heave. With a creak and a thud, the trapdoor revealed a tunnel with a ladder descending dozens of meters. Korrash grew suspicious.
“Wait,” he said. “Is that what I think it is?”
She just smiled and pushed him toward the hole.
Then the smell hit him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sewer Section ‘3GG’ Subsection 8, City of Sunblade, Kingdom of Eastmere
Korrash hated the sewers. He hated making constant Stamina checks, too (Stamina 6 success). The one thing that kept the whole experience from being the worst in his life was that his elven grace kept his feet from sinking too far into the muck. Unfortunately, this boon was largely obviated by the constant splashing created by Sarah’s platemail-shod feet. He was pretty sure some of the filth was in his mouth.
“Are we there yet?” he dared to ask.
“No,” she said, her voice distorted by the helmet that fully enclosed her face. “Three or four more subsections.”
Each subsection was about a kilometer long, because he’d obviously angered the True God somehow. Small pipes set into the walls of the main tunnel dripped with liquids that ranged from slimy green to moldy russet, though they did occasionally stop to disgorge lumpy, brown things that Korrash refused to look at too closely or think too much about.
Korrash instead occupied his mind by pondering past mistakes. The close and cramped construction of the sewers reminded him of the ancient ruins he’d explored so long ago with Arielle. He tried to keep the thoughts distant, because he knew there was going to be trouble, but the guilt was growing heavier with each passing side-tunnel. He’d really let his old friend down. They’d grown up together, after all. She’d literally died protecting him, and what had he done in return? Ignored her and gotten her captured and turned into a monster by that freak Necromancer, is what.
His voice in his own head reminded him that this was all a game, and that he hadn’t really grown up with the fiesty, red-headed girl that he so clearly remembered. His other friends weren’t real, either, really. They were all back at the village, doing their thing. His real-world friends were… did he even have any? Sarah probably counted for that, right?
Somewhere in Subsection Eleven, the pain in his chest grew too great. He had broken the girl’s heart, and he needed to make it right. As soon as Actinos figured out where Nicodemus was hiding, he’d storm in there and ram a Mana-enhanced longsword right up his smug…
Something hit him in the face. Sarah was standing next to him, her armored fist right in line with his nose. Oops. Even as distracted as he was, he could put two and two together.
“We’re here?”
She pointed at the tunnel wall.
“There’s a giant hole in the wall and a missing team of sanitation workers,” she said. “I’d say it’s a pretty good place to start looking.”
Loose earth and stone bricks littered the walkway near where the wall should have been.
“Something dug in,” he said. “Hold on a minute.”
Like he’d done in the ghoul tunnels, he centered himself, then pushed mana out from himself. It took only a fraction of the effort he’d used before, as the denser mana could accomplish the task of pushing aside the ambient aether much more easily.
“The tunnel goes back into the earth about six meters, takes a sharp turn to the left, and then there’s some sort of drop-off.” He opened his eyes to see Sarah’s cold, expressionless helmet pointed at him.
“You think they’re down there?” He could tell by her voice that she was itching to explore the mysterious tunnel.
“Hmm,” he said as he considered it. “The note said the last known location was Subsection Twelve. Did I miss the sign that said we’d gotten that far?”
She shook her head at him, still preoccupied with the tunnel.
“Let’s keep going, then. We’ll come back here if we don’t find anything.”
