Bedlam (19 page)

‘Solderburn?’

‘I figured you’d appreciate the crowbar.’

With the torch no longer pointed straight at his face, Ross was able to get a better look at the figure wading towards him,
dressed in contemporary civilian clothing. His beard was trim rather than its standard cosy-spot-for-a-bird’s-nest bushy,
his hair also unusually short and neatly swept into place. It may have been the light, but both beard and locks looked black
rather than that familiar shade of blond that could be less accurately described as ‘dirty’ than as ‘genuinely unhygienic’.
There was no mistaking the face though, albeit it appeared to be several years younger and his features notably more chiselled.

He was also looking nonchalantly pleased with himself in a way that was causing Ross to speed past his relief at finally seeing
a familiar face. For one thing, he felt annoyed that Solderburn got to be a slim, handsome version of himself while Ross got
to be something you’d find at the bottom of Megatron’s bin. But mostly it was the sudden, welling conviction that this man
owed him an explanation, and possibly a very large apology.

‘Where the hell am I, Jay? What the fuck did you do to me?’

‘Dude,’ he said. ‘Words like “hello, glad to see you, thanks for saving my ass”. That kinda thing.’

‘How about words like “sorry for ripping you out of reality and dumping you into an eternal vortex of pain”? What is this
place? And, more importantly, how do you get out?’

‘Man, I know you’re feeling a little confused right now, but—’

‘
A little confused?
’ Ross erupted. ‘Do you know what they just did to me up in that—’

‘Yes, I do. I know exactly what you’re going through, which is why I came a very long way to bust you out. I know you’re pissed
off, and I realise you’ve got a million questions, but the first thing you’ve gotta understand is that I’m not the bad guy
here, okay?’

Solderburn looked at him with urgent sincerity, grabbing him by the arm. It was just about the first non-violent contact Ross
had had with another person since getting here, and it stemmed the flow of anger that had been clouding his vision.

‘Sorry, man,’ Ross said. ‘And I am glad to see you. You’re looking well.’

‘Wish I could say the same. It’s been quite a while, but I seem to remember you looking less, you know, ferrous.’

‘Quite a while? How long have you been here?’

Solderburn glanced over Ross’s shoulder and then back down the tunnel in the other direction.

‘Buddy, I’d love to stand here and shoot the shit, but I’m not lovin’ standing here
in
the shit, and even more to the point is that any second now we’re gonna be dealing with like two dozen guys who may not entirely
have our best interests at heart.’

‘Got you.’

Even as Ross resumed wading through the sewage, he could hear sirens from somewhere above.

‘They’re playing our song,’ Solderburn said, turning to lob something over Ross’s head down the tunnel towards where he had
escaped from the cell. He heard it land with a splash.

‘What was that?’

‘Proximity mine. Should take out the first guys they send down the drain after you.’

‘Did they have those in World War Two?’

‘What do
you
think?’

‘I think you’re in violation of diegetic trespass protocols.’

‘Only on my good days.’

They came to a junction in the sewer, three tunnels meeting at ninety degrees and pouring all of their effluent into a fourth
that sloped steeply away to the left.

‘Hard right,’ Solderburn said, pointing the way with the torch. As he did so, they heard a splash from twenty or thirty yards
behind them, followed by a cry of ‘Halt!’, then a second or so later by a blast.

‘Do people actually
say
halt?’ Ross asked. ‘Or was that an NPC?’

‘I didn’t see. Could have been either. Only way to tell the difference between these jerk-offs and the NPCs is that the NPCs
do at least occasionally create the
illusion
of having minds of their own.’

‘Who are they?’

‘The guys who were holding you? They call themselves–– Shit!’

The water around them seemed to surge and rear up, as though it was suddenly boiling. Solderburn reacted instantly by producing
a shotgun and firing, which struck Ross as an odd way to deal with a flood until he saw that it wasn’t water that was inundating
them; nor indeed shit.

In all directions, corpses were rising from the watery trench, all of those sunken bodies spontaneously reanimated and none
of them very happy about it. It looked like the Gallowgate on a Saturday night.

‘Fucking zombie mode,’ said Solderburn, loosing off another shell into a face that already looked like a butcher’s window.
‘They must have activated it to stop us getting away. I’m low on ammo too.’

Solderburn pumped the shotgun as three more zombies shambled ever closer, converging upon their position, but Ross put a hand
on the weapon and tipped it down.

‘You don’t waste ammo on these meat-puppets,’ he said, handing Solderburn the crowbar. ‘That’s what mêlée weapons are for.’

‘So what are you gonna use?’

Ross showed him. He waited until the nearest ambulating cadaver came into range and sent his spike into its head, which he
then liquidised with an ease he found both surprising and icky, like cutting into rotten fruit. With his eyes on his work,
he was almost blindsided by another zombie attacking from the rear, which was when a twitching reflex and its resultant face-fricassee
taught him that he was ambispikerous.

‘Cool,’ approved Solderburn, before burying the crowbar in a zombie’s head.

Ross took the lead after that, Solderburn picking out their path with the torch while he disembowelled and decapitated at
least two dozen undead assailants. He was disgusted and yet kind of proud of himself at the same time, like he had felt that
time as a student when he got a shag from a girl he didn’t actually like.

‘Okay, this is our stop,’ Solderburn announced, as they reached a metal ladder bolted to the side of the sewer wall. It ascended
into a vertical shaft, one intended to facilitate personnel access rather than for draining waste, so it was an altogether
easier passage than the route by which Ross had entered the tunnel system.

They emerged into a dark underground chamber, the huge, moss-lined stones forming the walls indicating that it was somewhere
both grand and ancient.

‘Monastery,’ Solderburn said as Ross took in his surroundings. ‘We’re in the foundations, so there’s still a bit of a climb
before we—’

Solderburn was interrupted by a particularly weathered zombie clattering towards him from the shadows, his greater pace perhaps
down to being largely unencumbered by the burden of flesh. Solderburn shattered its skull with an irritated sigh and it dropped
to the flagstones in a bundle of bones and tattered cloth.

‘God, enough with the freaking undead already,’ he muttered. ‘What the hell was everybody thinking back in the early twenty-first?
Every game from that era, even the hardcore military shooters, there
has
to be zombies. Between that and the vampires, you’d think it was uncool to have a pulse.’

One of Solderburn’s words literally gave Ross pause.

‘
Back
in the early twenty-first? How long have you been here?’

‘Probably best if we don’t go there right now,’ he replied. ‘At least not until we’ve established a few other things. Oh,
and some place safer to talk might be a good idea too, so we gotta book.’

Solderburn led him up a narrow, winding and seemingly endless stone staircase. Freed from wading through sewer water, Solderburn’s
gait struck Ross as another thing that didn’t quite match his memories. For one thing, he had never seen the guy move with
anything resembling haste. He was lithe and light on his feet, his steps strangely delicate, an impression that was perhaps
pronounced due to its contrast with the ambling port-liness Ross recalled.

‘Would one of the things we need to establish be how we both got here?’ Ross asked.

‘No, because unfortunately that’s the local equivalent of the
ex nihilo
problem. The last thing I remember before I got here is testing out my latest build of the mapping scanner on myself. I wanted
to make sure it wasn’t gonna fry my brain before I unleashed it on anybody else.’

‘Being scanned is the last thing I remember as well,’ Ross said, excited. ‘You scanned Alex first, and he disappeared. But
wait: you said you scanned yourself
before
the trials? Alex and I were both scanned as part of those trials. You were still around.’

‘It was a long time ago, dude. The chronology gets confusing, and I don’t just mean my memory of it. When I first got here,
I came across games that weren’t due out for years. I’m talking fourth and fifth sequels to stuff that I’d only read about
being in development.’

‘This is unreal,’ Ross said, head spinning.

‘No, dude, I think this is
Death or Glory 2
, but I can take you to
Unreal
. I’ve got friends who live there.’

‘Friends? Who
live
there?’

‘There are a lot of people here who are just like us: one day they’re living ordinary lives, the next they’re in space, or
on a Napoleonic warship, or in Middle-earth. And all these people didn’t walk into my R&D lab at Neurosphere, okay? So let’s
be clear: this ain’t all on me.’

‘So how did they get here?’

‘Just about everybody tells the same story: last thing they remember is simply going to bed and falling asleep. They don’t
know beyond that much, but the thing is man, after a while they stop asking, because it’s pointless. Nobody’s been able to
find a way out, so everybody has to find a place to belong and make the best of it. Same as back in the old world, I guess.’

Solderburn put out a hand to signal Ross to stop and remain silent as they approached a landing, the stairs still climbing
beyond. He took up position at the side of a heavy oak door, shotgun at the ready, and gave Ross a countdown to throw it open.

Ross twisted the metal ring that formed the handle and shouldered the oak, flattening himself against the wall as Solderburn
stepped inside. He was bracing himself for the noise and impact of gunfire, aware that he only had the option of close-quarter
combat.

He heard the echo of Solderburn’s footfalls on stone and a flutter of wings, birds startled by this sudden intrusion. They
were in a transept, overlooking the nave of a long and lofty church, the flagstones and pews sitting at least twenty feet
below. This gallery ran around three sides, excluding that of the main altar, the balusters wider than anything Ross had ever
seen before and the gaps between them equally yawning, like someone had taken a normal balustrade and vertically compressed
it. He wondered what period was indicated by this architectural anomaly, then remembered where he was and deduced its true
purpose: providing body-wide barriers to hide behind during combat.

‘There are literally hundreds of worlds here,’ Solderburn said quietly, leading the way on quiet feet. ‘Maybe thousands. Most
people settle down someplace they like, maybe travel around now and then, see the sights, go visit with friends. Some folks
just like to wander. And some have preferred to create their own
worlds, in what we call the Beyonderland. It’s kinda like a massive complex of digital allotments, though you can’t pop in
and out of your little private garden quite so easily as you used to. The resistance keep a close eye on who comes and goes,
because so far it’s an Integrity-free haven and they want it to stay that way.’

‘Hundreds of worlds? So how many people are we talking about?’

‘Impossible to say. It’s not like anybody took a census. This place here, and
Starfire
? They’re on the outer fringes, kinda like the unsettled badlands. Further in, it gets more populous, more sophisticated.
We’re not just talking about communities. We’re talking about societies.’

‘How long has this all been here?’

‘I honestly couldn’t say. Time has no meaning here, or at least no frame of reference. It’s a sight to behold, though. Problem
is you ain’t gonna see any of it unless we can get our asses out of here.’

‘How do we do that?’

‘Same way you got here from
Starfire
. There’s a transit in the monks’ dormitory.’

‘Transit?’

‘It’s what we call the hidden gateways that take you from one gameworld to the next.’

Solderburn stopped for a moment, peering over the balustrade as though he had heard something he didn’t like. There was no
activity below, but Ross could still hear sirens in the distance. They had made it all the way around to the opposite transept,
where there was a small altar facing another oak doorway. Above the altar there was a stained-glass window showing Jesus emerging
from the tomb after three days, the stone that was rolled away depicted in a conspicuously ovoid shape. An Easter egg.

‘Gimme a hand here,’ Solderburn said, crouching down at the altar and putting his shoulder against it.

With Ross’s metal bulk brought to bear, the stone slab forming the top of the table slid free, leaving a gap into what was
revealed to be a secret compartment.

‘Fill your boots,’ Solderburn suggested, shining his torch
inside. Ross found a machine-gun, a Luger pistol and a Panzerfaust. He also spotted an incongruous design on the interior
of the secret compartment, a brightly coloured cartoon depicting a buck-toothed green fish.

As Ross lifted each weapon, its predecessor disappeared from his hands. For a moment he worried whether he needed his tablet
to change them back, but there turned out to be no link, just
post hoc ergo propter hoc
. The same action of imagining a key-press still worked, the same as in the training arena.

‘There’s a network of transits interlacing through all of the worlds,’ Solderburn informed him. ‘A few worlds have the minimum
of two, some have dozens, each connecting them to somewhere different, but there’s no three-dimensional topology to the links,
no spatial relationships. There is a basic daisy-chaining of sorts – world A connects to world B connects to world C – but
a different transit in world A might lead to somewhere that’s a hundred links away if you’re taking the long way around. Most
transits are so widely known they’re effectively public thoroughfares: tunnels between worlds that see as much traffic as
any border back in the old world. You could literally drive a bus through them. Others are entrusted only to those and such
as those. The one we’re headed for definitely comes into the latter category.’

‘What about “diegetic trespass protocol”?’

‘That’s why we need the Panzerfaust.’

Solderburn checked the way was clear beyond the door and they proceeded cautiously along a draughty narrow stone passageway
with open arches on either side. Ross had the machine-gun primed in his right hand, his left ready with the spike in case
of more zombies. They hadn’t seen any since ascending to the transepts; presumably the undead didn’t have a head for heights.

‘The charm-school drop-outs who captured you are a recent phenomenon. They call themselves the Integrity. They’re obsessed
with maintaining order, the integrity of the system. They’ve been taking control of more and more gameworlds, intent on sealing
the borders, so some of those well-trodden thoroughfares now look like Checkpoint Charlie.’

‘They told me that traffic between the worlds is causing
irreparable damage,’ Ross said. ‘That it could cause the whole place to implode. Is it true?’

‘There are rumours that certain worlds have become unstable, like corrupted files, and even that some have disappeared altogether.
People talk about “the corruption” like it’s the boogeyman. There’s more than rumours, in some cases. I know of at least one
transit that now leads to blank empty space, and nobody knows if it’s just that the link has been broken or if what used to
be there is actually gone. What’s also unknown is whether transits are the cause, and not everybody is prepared to take the
Integrity’s word for it.’

‘I’m not sure I like being in the “climate-change sceptic” camp on this one, but I would want to see some evidence of cause
and effect before I agreed it was a justification for martial law.’

‘You, me and a whole lot of other folks. That’s why there’s a resistance movement.’

Solderburn clenched his fist then opened it again, and, when he did, there was a holographic object in the palm of his hand:
a 3D rendering of the Mobius strip Ross had seen twice before.

‘The resistance call themselves the Diasporadoes: as in diaspora, meaning scattering, migrating beyond the homeland. A lot
of folks are content to settle where they are, so they don’t see a restriction of movement as a huge imposition, especially
with a big scary threat of annihilation skewing the picture. Some of these worlds are vast, after all, and a lot of those
same people never appreciated that the world they suddenly found themselves in was actually a game, usually because they never
played one before. But those of us who recognised we were in the world of a game, we did what gamers always do: we tested
the boundaries, and once we discovered what was beyond them, one world was never gonna be enough.’

Solderburn stopped as the sound of splintering wood rose up from the open courtyard to their left, followed by the crunch
of several boots. They both ducked down and peeked over the arch, witnessing the ingress of six identical Integrity troopers
accompanied by the hammer-wielding troll that had blootered Ross into oblivion before.