Dream Walker (27 page)

Raze had no such qualms. He ventured into the third and final tier willingly.

It was one thing to control the masses—an easy thing. So elementary it was ridiculous. Human beings were maggots, easily corralled into flat, reality configurations and resistant to anything that lay beyond that net. Once inside the desired structure, the slightest nudge could either rile them up or put them back in line.

Infinium used various techniques to accomplish this, from low maintenance influences such as Main Stream Media feeds, mindless television programming, cheap entertainment in smut magazines that played to the public’s fears and insecurities and led them to constantly try to fix themselves, and video games that separated them from Real Life altogether.

More insidious techniques were the use of extra low, frequency vibrations, electromagnetic pulse technology, prescription medication, and most effectively, education system programming. Blanketing the masses with frequency stimulators and thought modulators, the control agency could impose whatever dogma about Real Life that it wanted.

But every once in a while, a stray larva wriggled away from the pack, exploring and discovering that which the central governing agencies would rather be left alone. The truth. The frontier behind the velvet curtain.

Most of the time, those little larvae kept themselves in check. Human maggots need constant emotional and social reassurance. Having come from this hive mentality, the emerging pupae understood that if they started popping off with out-of-the-box ideas, they threatened the maggot mob and invited attack. They knew to leave well enough alone and kept their pearls of revelation securely within themselves.

It was the insect that no longer cared what the hive thought, that demanded its own buzz and tried to get others to see the Truth, that made a control operative like Raze necessary.

Scott Parrish was just one such cockroach. He had crossed the line and when remote techniques were not effective getting him back in line, Raze was called in for a more personal touch.

Blake was supposed to be collateral damage. That had been the mission. But then Aislen, a maggot with a skill, and Mathis, a maggot with a hunch, came along.

Now there was a new mission. Now there were three targets to be eliminated.

He went back inside the house and into his bedroom. He needed to see if Sergeant Maggot had figured out his ass from a hole in the ground in the game or if had given up and disposed of the console altogether, solving one third of his problem.

“Demesne,” he told the Q. The television automatically turned on and the game initialized.

“Locate: Mathis.”

The screen lit up with a layered, topographic map; each Octave stacked like a sandwich one upon the other. A gun sight icon appeared on the screen and began scanning through Octave One: Base Camp. Mathis wasn’t there.

Good! Just as Raze had expected, the first circuit had proven too much for the old dog and he had given up. But the ‘Player Unavailable’ window did not pop up on the screen and the sight icon kept moving through the layers of the map.

That meant Mathis was still somewhere in the game. No big deal. It took players months to get anywhere significant. He probably just got sidetracked by a role-playing circuit like a strip club or a poker game.

The sight jumped through several Octaves, finally landing in Octave 6.

“Mathis Located,” the pop-up screen read, as it zeroed in on not one, but two, moving players and they were standing precariously close to the hidden portal that led out of the game and accessed Raze’s 4D circuit in The Stratum.

“Damn it!” Raze yelled as he grabbed his gloves and put his visor on.

“Octave 6. 50 meters with cover.”

The game teleported CrazE into Octave 6 with instanteous precision.

CHAPTER 27

Another 4 hours of the day had slipped past with Mathis following his new buddy around Demesne like a puppy. His ally, a reticent fellow who went by the name, Ichiban, allowed Mathis to tag along behind him but didn’t utter a single word. Mathis understood right away to keep his mouth shut and pay attention.

They maneuvered through the first few levels quickly, stepping in and out of teleportation tubes into different scenes and settings. It was mind-boggling. One world was a bustling metropolis of gleaming metal and glass, another an ancient ruin of stone, and the next an elaborate series of underground caves.

Although there were people engaged in many other activities, as far as Mathis could tell, the game revolved around combat. Beating other clans, taking their assets, and gathering higher statistics so you could move to higher levels of the game.

Combat situations arose several times in each level they visited. As a two-person team, Mathis and Ichiban were always out numbered. Gangs of at least four and sometimes up to eight players saw them as easy pickings and confronted them with glee.

Being good with a gun, Mathis was able to hold his own, keeping himself from being killed and getting in a few kills himself. But Ichiban was a beast, seemingly invincible in every contest. He plowed through every battle, taking no prisoners and leaving only mangled bodies.

Mathis must have proven himself worthy enough of a grunt, because when they teleported into the sixth level, Ichiban finally began to speak.

“First of all,” he began in a bored rasp, “they are not called levels. They are called Octaves.”

Mathis felt like Ichiban had been rummaging through his head and knew that he had been thinking of them as levels.

“There are a total of 8 Octaves in the game,” Ichiban continued. “Within each Octave there are multiple circuits, separate spheres within the main sphere. Each circuit provides a different environment, a different objective or a diversion.”

Mathis grunted like he understood, but he was stupefied by the complexity of the game. He had a million questions, but was afraid that if he asked, Ichiban would get exasperated by his stupidity and ditch him. Mathis knew he would never make it back this far without Ichiban.

They sauntered through another glowing vortex. This one moved them sideways.

“Some portals will take you up and down through Octaves,” Ichiban said. “Others, like this one, move you sideways from one circuit into another within the same Octave.”

The movement stopped and the portal opened.

“This is the 9th Circuit of the 6th Octave. It is one of the most popular circuits in all of Demesne.”

They both stepped into a gigantic room of blazing, pure white. Spotlights rotated through a series of filters that doused the whole room into different jeweled colors. An open space in the middle of the room was dotted with round, stage platforms. On some of them, avatars were grinding and gyrating in erotic dance. On others, avatars engaged in sexual activities with each other. An audience of avatars roamed around in various states of undress feasting on the depravity and clapping politely at each performance.

Most of the avatars were not even human. Players had cloaked themselves as humanoids, animals, robots, and even nondescript shapes. A three dimensional, twelve-pointed star, with a large set of human knockers floated past Mathis into a recessed alcove where an all-out orgy between polygons was taking place.

Mathis moved a couple of feet backwards trying to stay clear of the debauchery. Maybe the Food Network isn’t that kinky, after all.

Ichiban turned back to Mathis, “You interested in getting in on any of this action?”

Mathis didn’t know how to respond to that. What did Ichiban expect him to say? Maybe this was his thing and he was testing Mathis to see if it was his thing too. But it was making Mathis uncomfortable so he had to tell the truth. “Uh...no.”

“Good answer.” Ichiban said and he turned around and stepped through the portal back into the jungle-like circuit they just came from.

Mathis was relieved, but felt like he needed a shower.

“Like I said,” Ichiban started again, “there are countless circuits within each Octave, that was but one of them. Many people come into Demesne for the combat aspect of the game, but get over that as soon as they discover its more wanton diversions.”

“There’s more than just that?” Mathis was agape.

Ichiban snorted. “Oh, yeah. That was nothing. There are circuits for every freaky fetish imaginable. Demesne has even created a few fetishes that were unheard of before. Take “The Shapers,” for instance, like that star with the tits...they were created here for people who get off by being a rhombus or an isosceles triangle. I’m pretty sure all those people are rocket scientists.”

“Weird.” What more could Mathis say. He was old-fashioned that way. A real body in a soft bed was as perverted as he got.

“Yeah, but there are normal circuits, as well. Circuits where players can enjoy concerts or perform in them. They can participate in theatre, bands or sporting events. There are comedy clubs, nightclubs, art galleries, even shopping malls where players sell virtual and real products. People have sexual encounters, but they also date, get married and have virtual families. There are college circuits that hold virtual classes and churches that have services. Real people put their game faces on, come into Demesne and live an alternate life. And, for most of them, this life is way better.”

Mathis could see how easy it would be for a person bored with his life or in need of escape, could become entranced by this place and over time have difficulty separating from it. He himself had been in the game for over ten hours already.

Ichiban didn’t say anything for a long time but he didn’t make any move to travel any further in the game either. Mathis wondered if this was the end of the line and he was failing to get the hint. He started to turn away to try to find a way out of the game when Ichiban suddenly spoke again.

“Then there are those of us who understand the inner workings of Demesne and know its real purpose.”

Mathis stopped and slowly turned back toward Ichiban. The revelation got his attention. He’d already discovered that there was a lot more to Demesne than what the box advertised, but was there something even more to this game that could explain the Parrish murder?

He’d learned so much about the game by keeping his mouth shut, but Ichiban had stopped talking again. Mathis could not read his expression through the polarized visor that covered most of his face. His lips were sealed in a tight line.

Mathis didn’t want to risk displeasing Ichiban or give too much away about his suspicions, but he really had to know.

“So...what is the real purpose of Demesne?”

∞

A panoramic vista of an otherworld rainforest opened up before Raze through his visor. He knew right away Mathis and his teammate were near the portal to the 9th Circuit. He was God in this world. He knew his garden.

Raze had placed the 9th Circuit here for specific, strategic purposes. The maggots either flocked to it and got trapped by its temptations or they were completely appalled by it and stayed far away. Either way, it was perfect. Just on the other side of the circuit was Raze’s secret portal into the 8th Octave, known by the very few as The Stratum. The 9th circuit kept players brainwaves stimulated too high and too base for access. But with a few frequency tweaks, Raze could invite them right in to his personal, Fourth Dimensional, mind-fuck.

A small map in the bottom left corner of his visor pinpointed Mathis and his new friend. They were close. Raze put himself into stealth mode, making his avatar invisible inside the game, and moved toward them.

He aimed his viewfinder on the friend. “Player vitals,” he spoke to the Q.

He wanted to know all the particulars of Mathis’ new friend, especially how advanced he might be. He couldn’t be that advanced. Raze tracked all the top players, looking for real talent and possible threats. If he was that good the Q would have sent him an alert.

“Access denied,” the Q responded.

Raze stopped cold, his mind reeling with this information. Access was never denied t
o
Raze. All access was granted and controlled
by
Raze. This was absolutely impossible.

He moved in closer, close enough to hear the new player explaining to Mathis about the variety of activities available within the circuits. Raze lifted his gloved sensor and pointed it directly at the player.

“Player vitals,” Raze commanded again.

“Access denied,” the Q responded immediately.

“Player tag,” he tried instead.

“Denied.”

“What the fuck!” Had the game been hacked? Raze had to fight the urge to pounce on the fucker and send him back to Base Camp permanently, but he needed to know more about him first and analyze the threat level.

“...Real people put their game faces on, come into Demesne and live an alternate life. And, for most of them, this life is way better.” The player stopped speaking. A long uncomfortable silence ensued, the player staring at the Sergeant, the Sergeant growing more uncomfortable with each moment. Mathis finally gave up and turned to walk away, when the player spoke again.

Then there are those of us who understand the inner workings of Demesne and know its real purpose.”