Hypercage: Instant Reality Prequel One (2 page)

“I was this close, Becks,” he offered, holding finger and thumb an inch apart. “This close to nailing that enemy Dreadnought. And now it’s going to take me even longer to get to the final battle rank. All I needed was an extra couple of seconds. But you kept nagging, so I had to disconnect. And now today is pretty much a waste. I’m way off my daily quota.”

Why wasn’t there any water on the table? He was feeling parched. And all this arguing she was doing wasn’t helping.

“I can’t believe you!” she said. She sat back in the chair and folded her arms.

But Dave wasn’t listening. He was watching a new notification scroll up into his HUD.

Home Carrier Ticonderoga destroyed. All troops return to warp gate for deployment.

“Well… that’s just flipping brilliant isn’t it? Now they’ve destroyed our carrier. All because you couldn’t wait another picosecond for my undivided attention,” he groused, slumping in the booth, leaning the back his head against the plush red velvet backrest.

“You are un-fucking believable, do you know that? I’ve just given you the opportunity to make amends for being such a shit, and all you care about is that fucking game. Well, I’ll tell you what is going to happen,” she said, leaning forward once more. “You’re going to wipe that game right now, or that’s us finished.”

“What? You can’t be serious,” he responded, sitting upright with a jolt.

“I am deadly serious. Why don’t you try me?” she stated.

Dave considered all the hours logged just to get to Battle Rank 39. He was so close to BR 40. He was almost there, and he’d be the first one ever to get to experience the end game content. A couple of other players were close, but he should be able to manage it, as long as he hit his daily XP quota. He had to get back on today; otherwise, he was going to have extra catching up to do. Then he thought about what she said. About deleting his profile and losing everything. Not only that — he’d never play again, never feel the adrenaline rush as a notification popped into his HUD. Logging in and getting his orders from command. The sound of the klaxons as he prepped for launch before being shot out of the launch tubes. Space robbed of its darkness by laser fire. Huge capital ships locked together by colossal beams of energy. Thousands of ships worrying at their hulls. The feeling of being part of an ever-changing war fought on a truly galactic scale. His outfit was one of the best in the game, and with it, he was one of the most respected pilots. His VR training sessions were regarded as the best out there. He couldn’t give all of that up. He was somebody in that universe. Here, in real-life, he was nobody. A stay-at-home Dad. He loved his son, but he needed more. And Becks was always at work. Never there for him. His Outfit was like his family. A pain flared in his chest that gave way to a tightness. He found it difficult to breathe. The heat in the realstaurant was suddenly overwhelming. He clawed at his neck. Choking, fighting the restrictive collar of the shirt she insisted he wear. Why the hell wasn’t there water on the table? His breathing quickened. He started to hyperventilate. Wiping his brow, his hand came away slick with sweat. His vision blurred. Someone kicked the chair out from under him. He tried to grab onto the table to steady himself but only managed to grab onto the tablecloth. He pulled the glasses of red wine on top of himself as he fell out of the chair. One of them landed on his head as he crashed to the ground, smashing against his temple and cutting his face. Ejecting the red wine all over him. He felt his limbs spasm uncontrollably as he lay on the floor, the red wine soaking into his shirt. The ceiling swam in and out of focus. Becks appeared above him, some sort of medical device in-hand. She pressed it to his neck, and he felt his body relax as the spasms dissipated. His breathing slowed, and he could see that Becks was talking to him. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the soothing sounds of her voice managed to cut through the buzzing in his ears. She was caressing his head and holding his hand. He started to feel normal again. Arms lifted him gently from behind. They carried him out of the realstaurant, Becks walking next to him, holding his hand. The ringing in his ears made it difficult to keep upright as he walked, but the firm arms around him kept him from falling over. The concierge opened the doors, and the cold air slapped him in the face, snapping him out of his daze. The ringing in his ears subsided, and Becks took him by both hands, holding them gently. He managed to stand up right and the arms released him. “Thank you very much,” Becks said over his shoulder.

“No problem,” the voice at his back commented.

“Are you OK?” She asked.

“Err, yes. Yes. What happened?” He inquired.

“Panic attack,” she replied. “I had to give you a suppressant to calm you down.”

He squeezed her hands. “Thanks Becks,” he said.

“Come on, I’ll get you home and you can delete everything tomorrow.”

He pulled his hands away roughly, breaking free of her grip.

“No way. All I need is to log in. Once I get my XP for today, I’ll be fine.”

“Dave, don’t be an arsehole. You need proper help. You’re an addict,” she admonished.

“That’s insane. I’m not addicted.”

“Yes, you are. You just can’t admit it to yourself. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed before,” she said, guiltily.

“Well, that wouldn’t be difficult, you’re never around,” he complained.

“That’s not fair. You know I’ve been trying to setup the new mech team at the hospital. Do you know how long it takes to calibrate surgical mechs? Besides, that’s not even the point, so don’t think you can weasel your way out of this. We get jack-heads coming into the hospital all the time, so don’t think I can’t spot one when I see one,” she responded.

“That’s bollocks. It’s just because I’m off my quota. If Jakey hadn’t woken up early from his nap, then I would have hit my target and I’d be fine. Come on, don’t be a twat.”

“Listen to yourself — you’re completely obsessed,” she accused.

“Hey, it’s not my fucking fault. It’s because that little bastard woke up early,” he snarled, pointing at her face, veins bulging at his neck.

“That’s it Dave, you’ve gone too far.” She turned her back on him and gestured in the air. A bright red target appeared on the ground in the centre of the plaza, pedestrians giving it a wide berth. Becks strode away to wait next to it.

The rage building inside him in that moment caught him unawares. His heart was pounding in his chest. He watched as their car threaded its way through the multiple layers of traffic above the high rise before descending gracefully. As the car sliced its way through the adverts, holograms and animated artwork between the buildings, all he could think about was logging in. His hands twitched slightly as the drugs continued to fight against his withdrawal. Maybe he could make her see sense. If only she knew how important it was for him. Maybe she’d let him keep his gaming profile? Besides, it’s not as if he is doing anything dangerous; it’s just a game. With a big sigh, he walked after her. Autumn leaves from the giant Oak trees dropped all around him. As they hit the ground, they burst apart into a cluster of triangles, reminding him of his gaming construct. His fingers twitched.

“Look Becks, I’m sorry. It’s just that he woke up early, and that’s why I couldn’t complete my mission this morning. And so, when you were taking ages looking at the menu, I just thought I’d quickly log in and pick up another one. No biggie,” he explained.

Warning tones sounded and the oblong target glowed a deep red as their car landed. The door scythed open from its sleek body, the interior lights glowing softly in the dark of the plaza.

“I’m not interested,” she said, making to climb into the car. As she was about to step into the vehicle, she turned sharply to face him. “Wait a sec. Tell me again how Jakey cut his head open,” she demanded.

“Err, what? What are you talking about?” He questioned.

“When Jakey smashed his head on the hearth. You said you were browsing for a new food template.”

“Yeah?” he said.

“So what were you really doing?”

“Looking for a new template to rent. I told you.”

“Really? So you weren’t playing that fucking game then?” She accused, stepping towards him, getting up in his face.

Dave’s eyes darted backwards and forwards between hers, unsure of exactly where to look in case she guessed the truth. But in the end, he realised it was pointless. She was right, and she knew it. Might as well admit it now. Maybe there was some way he could salvage the situation? Appease Becks and still get to jack in? He couldn’t look at her anymore, the judgement in those eyes too much. He hung his head, hoping she would take pity on him.

“I thought so,” she chided. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to authorise you a script for Bupropion. I’ll drop you at the addiction clinic at Goldmark Place and tell them you’ve seen a consultant. Once they’ve authorised the drug delivery, and you’ve had your first dose, come home and we can talk. Otherwise, don’t fucking bother.”

Rebecca tapped through unseen menus, and with a final gesture in the air, a glowing prescription icon popped into the layer of augmented reality between them.

He watched it as it spun around, leaving glowing trails from each of the corners that reminded him of torpedoes barrelling their way towards a capital ship. He reached out slowly, thinking about what it would mean to accept it, to admit defeat. To never jack in to Galaxy War ever again. His hand slowed to a stop in front of the spinning icon.

“You bastard!” She said as she turned on her heel and climbed into the car in one smooth movement.

“Becks… wait,” he shouted as the door of the car sliced shut. “Becks… Rebecca!”

The car lifted smoothly off the ground, ascending to join the multiple levels of traffic flowing over the top of the city.

“For fuck’s sake,” he shouted at the departing car, slamming his balled fists into the air as if he hoped to knock it out of the sky.

He span on his heel to face the prescription icon, and was about to wave it away to dismiss it when he realised what it would mean. He’d probably never see Becks or Jake again. Is that what he wanted? Was the game really worth the sacrifice? His shoulders slumped. What would Becks tell Jake? “Sorry son, your Dad decided being someone in VR was more important than being a father.”

“Fucking hell!” Dave said. Sighing, he reached out and touched the icon. It exploded into a thousand triangles that all shot down onto his HUD, as if caught in a tractor beam. One by one, they rebuilt the spinning icon, a glowing permanent reminder of his choice.

± ± ± ± ±

D
ave walked through the doors of the clinic. A pulsing green target painted on the floor in ARSpace directed him to an empty reception desk. As he stepped onto the target, the clinic’s AI detected his presence and loaded the default meeting protocol. A wash of static formed a silhouette of a man sitting in the empty chair, who then snapped into existence as if he had been there all along.

“Yes sir, how may I help?” questioned the ARvatar.

“I’ve got a script for Bupropion. I need to get authorisation for delivery,” Dave responded.

“Please share your script,” the ARvatar instructed.

Dave complied and the clinic’s AI interfaced with the digital script.

“Please follow the green arrow to the waiting area for digital addiction. Your case will need to be reviewed and assessed,” it said.

“My, err, consultant said that I would get a course delivered straight away.”

“VR addiction can have wide ranging consequences, Mr Charlton. All cases need to be reviewed and assessed before a course of detoxification is authorised and administered. Please take a seat and a mechanical automated medical assistant will be with you shortly,” it said.

“Can’t you just give me my goddamned drugs so I can go home?” he snarled.

The ARvatar flickered with static and disappeared.

“Stupid piece of shit AI,” Dave said as he stomped down the hall, following the glowing green arrow painted on the floor of his private ARSpace.

The waiting room looked like a zombie apocalypse had ravaged the gaming community, and they’d all decided to come here to munch on some brains. Most of them looked like the scum of the earth. They were gaunt and malnourished, with distant eyes undoubtedly imagining a world that wasn’t this one. Most of them probably were in a different world. Jacked in to whatever virtual space had ensnared them. Fucking jack-heads. Normally you see them on the street corners, begging for a money transfer to get their next fix.

He scanned the place for a decent seat, trying to pick one the farthest away from the jackers. He chose one in the corner, away from the double doors that led God knows where. To the end of his fun no doubt.

He slumped down in the chair and let out a deep sigh, annoyed that it had come to this.

The head and shoulders of the clinic’s ARvatar appeared at the top of his HUD.

“Thank you, Mr Charlton. You are 17th in the queue. Calculated waiting time is currently forty-three minutes,” it informed him, gesturing over to the right hand side of his HUD where his queue position and anticipated wait time slid into view.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as the ARvatar disappeared.

Forty-three minutes? With his time dilation plug-in, that would be hours in Galaxy War. If Becks got her way this could his last ever session. Although he’d see about that. He had no idea what was going to happen behind those closed doors, but there must be a way to turn this around? He could dial it back, sure; he didn’t want to lose Becks and Jake, but surely he would still be able to play a bit. If he could convince her he was serious about cleaning himself up, whatever that meant, maybe he could keep his profile.