Raine VS The End of the World (20 page)

Thaddius’ smile did not waver.

“Please tell me about this chosen one,” Raine asked. “I’m curious.”

“It’s a fairy tale, my dear Neira, nothing more,” Ricard told her. He was beginning to think this maiden far too innocent for his liking.

“Reality is oft stranger than fiction,” the monk continued. “Many Truth-seekers, including myself, believe there is at least one enlightened being in this world, a person who has retained the experience of higher forms of consciousness, one who has seen outside of this virtual prison, and whose quest is to show us the way out. This individual will free our minds of this realm and take us to a place of blissed-out-ness and understanding beyond our limited perspectives.”

“Where’s your proof, man?” Samuel interjected. “Talk of some outside world is useless. Anyone coming forgets it, anyone going never comes back.”

“Faith is never about proof,” Thaddius replied. “That said, our conclusions are based on firsthand experience, not dogma. Consciousness operates on a higher level than this virtual stuff we think of as matter. Our limited language cannot broach the deepest inner truths. Here’s something to think about: at the monastery, we have been able to ascertain and even record snippets of knowledge of the outside world. Many have left this realm for a higher reality, and a few have even returned with visions of a dying wasteland. Naturally, it’s not common knowledge. I can provide links for those interested.”

Raine noticed that everyone was watching Thaddius intently. This was news to most of the adventurers.

“Your people are still spouting debunked rumors from version 2.0, I see. I won’t believe a thing until I see it with my own eye,” Samuel said gruffly, pointing at his singular eye.

“Then good for you, Sam,” Soren interjected. “Although I won’t bother to cite the irony involved in the trust you assign to any of your five senses, or those of the
Metaverse
edutainers, in a completely artificial construct.”

“What?” Samuel blinked.

“He’s saying shut up and let the man speak,” Cooke interjected. “Save your wrath for the blood-wraiths on the next floor. We could be brains in a vat for all we know.”

Ricard cleared his throat. “I apologize on behalf of my companions. Brother Thaddius, pray continue your account of the business on the top floor.”

“Of course, Sir Stabbington,” Thaddius began with a slight nod. “But first, I’d like to ask Ms. Cooke to elaborate on her theory.”

The mage’s pale cheeks turned bright red; Raine reasoned that she probably wasn’t used to being put on the spot, but this man exuded some pretty cool vibes.

“Well, basically, I think there’s no point in getting worked up over peaceful belief systems,” she added. “Even your visions may be coded in. We could all be programs thinking we’re human. The Chosen One theory is just one of many equally valid others.”

“On the contrary, this unreal realm is binary. As to the nature of reality, there can be a billion possibilities, but logically, only one true one, sister,” Thaddius replied. “And all the more reason for us to seek. If we are brains in a vat, then whose vat is it? To what purpose are we here? These remain the most pertinent questions of our day.” He paused. “If there are no further inquiries, might I return to my story?”

Raine nodded vigorously, barely following this foray into metaphysics, before noticing that Gerrit was enraptured by their conversation. In any case, there were no further interruptions.

“As I was saying, the portal had passed me over, and the entire floor was reset. Only, it didn’t return to its default settings. The dragon-spawn I’d worked weeks to befriend suddenly turned against me. I rushed down to the floor below, and saw that the creatures bested on my way up the tower had returned to life, stronger than ever.”

“Bummer,” Gerrit said. “But you continued to descend?”

“Yes. It was a long shot, but I had faith that if I kept running downwards, I’d find another group of adventurers. This is no coincidence, young Gerrit. ‘Tis our karma.”

“Karma shawarma. This is ludicrous!” Samuel roared. “Don’t tell me this madness is gonna go on for twenty more floors!”

“It doesn’t have to,” the monk piped in, and opened an outstretched palm.

The crystal within enkindled the atrium, and the hearts of the hunting party. Heedless of the dangers, the adventurers fist-bumped and seemed to mellow out at this turn of events.

“What is it?” Raine quietly asked Gerrit.

“It’s a warp portal activator,” Thaddius replied. “It’ll take us up to the second to last floor.”

The party readied themselves, and Raine straightened out her gear. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

↔

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Henry paced around the upper console, ordering around his crack team of various Lead Developers as he downed a glass of whisky. Down below, the portly Lead Hoshua and his Maintenance Officer, Marco, were arguing over raising airship taxes for ferries between
Avidya’s
four continents to slow congestion.

That’s right, gentlemen. Just keep your eyes off the prize.

“All right, people. If you’re placing bets, now’s the time.”

The familiar click-clacking of heels accompanied a lovely face as Dr. Ayumi Karuishi rounded a corner from the
Tanha
shortcut and offered him a glowing key, hopefully containing several essential security protocols for the HDP.

“Good morning, love,” he said in a teasing tone. “You look even more dolled up than usual today.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Holdfast,” she joked.

Henry raised an eyebrow. His Holo-Lens downloaded the relevant data from the key. He returned it to the good Doctor, all but forcing himself to hold eye contact.

“Seriously, though, what are you doing after work?”

“Ask me in an hour. I’m needed at
Tanha
; the player-built maps are getting out of hand.”

Ayumi took Henry’s hand and gave it a light squeeze before parting.

Noticing his subordinates’ eyes on him, Henry coughed loudly.

“Quit your gawking. I want that boss to take them down.”

One of the cheeky Devs seized the day, putting on a horrid mockery of an Australian accent. “With a capital ‘D’, sir? Shall we dress ol’ Bob’s-your-uncle up in tight leather?”

The platform erupted in a round of sniggering.

“With a— oh, I see what you did there, mate, good ‘un,” Henry began in jest, before looming over his seated subordinate. This was the same prankster that spiked his coffee with laxative at the last
Nexus
party. He studied the nervous kid for a good few excruciating seconds before responding with a whisper.

“Conor, is it? Well, Conor, it’s all fun and games, right? Messing around with the new boss, I get it. I’m a reasonable man. But hear this. Let’s say a porpoise wants to know how to make it with a lady porpoise. I’ll bet you a hundred beans he won’t succeed by making an enemy of sharks. This ain’t your Daddy’s
Metaverse,
or even Sir Stephenson’s; we’re dealing with terrorists here. Try pulling the wool over me once more and see if you’re let off with a warning. So how’s about I hear a little less cheek out of you, and expect you to do your ruddy job, eh? Would that be acceptable?”

Trapped by the air of growing hostility, the kid nodded and returned to work.

“Good man. We’ll get a brew sometime.”

Henry took another swig amongst the murmurings of his subordinates.

₪

Deep in the middle of the
Spire
is a little-used throne room, deemed off-limits to all but the most elite rulers of the land. Queen Lorelei had long insisted that it be tended to and guarded by androids, for it was also a comprehensive museum, with countless treasures too priceless and beautiful to be seen by lower mortals.

Yet here the Queen was, instructing the Seven Lords, glorified Sector Managers hailing from every corner of the globe. They were gathered on bended knee, swearing their allegiance. The provincial rulers had been summoned forth to rally in support for a large-scale conflict to end a supposed takeover plot against
Neo Eden
, the very heart of modern civilization.

Many of their assets, bodies sold and minds sworn to
Endless Metaverse
, could die in this battle, she warned them. Their sacrifices were absolutely essential to preserving the world she envisioned.

The lords, surely out of fear, and perhaps a little out of love, bowed in reverence to her silky voice and decisive command unquestioningly, offering the lives of their people as a necessary loss. Otherwise, it was sure to be their heads on the chopping block.

“Our armies are guaranteed victory over any foe,” she explained. “As you know, most uninitiated soldiers lack the will and courage to fight without any instinct of self-preservation. Our latest
M-Gear
defense protocols ensure that even the weakest, least physically fit asset can be put to use in warfare. Brain functions are enhanced by artificial intelligences, gifting subjects with perfect aim, zero hesitation, and advanced virtual combat training. With thirty years of programming and a flawless field ops record, our system is near perfect. The
Eden
Armada
,
our fleet of drones, and citywide anti-air artillery will provide full support.”

A well-edited holographic demonstration of the test subjects carrying out orders in both real records and virtual scenarios played to much head nodding and overall approval.

The lords praised her plan once more, applauding at images of fallen freedom fighters and annexed rebel fortresses. Then again, they would have licked her heels if she had wanted. There was nothing interesting about these subjugated dimwits.

She imagined their thoughts, their fears, and their selfish schemes. Jakarta was far from a flawless op, but not a one dared challenge her judgment. To quash their enemies’ spirits, known rebel operations in Chile, Saudi Arabia, Glasgow, and Philadelphia had been set under siege by local
Geared
forces.

If anyone had any qualms about her plans for an all-out war, they were too spoiled by their guaranteed positions to care. Or perhaps they valued their lives over those of hundreds of thousands of their subjects, their primary workforce, and knew that in
Neo Eden
even the smallest suggestion could be viewed as criminal insubordination.

“Business is over. You will have your orders in the morning. Be gone with you,” Queen Lorelei intoned.

The lords bowed, each in turn, before being promptly escorted off the premises by the Queen’s heavy-duty security droids. These chaperones accompanied each lord during their entire visit of the city, recording their actions and everyday lives, which would be presented to the Overseer and edited for the Queen once the lords’ offices were up for review.

She requested for the double doors to be kept open, and watched them leave, one by one, marching in single file, unable to speak to one another in private.

Once the last of their shadows had disappeared into the noontime sun, the Queen leaned back in her seat, commanded her weather-regulating nano-bots to provide enough cloud cover to take the heat down a few degrees, and peeled a yellow peach.

The anticipation of it all was eating her alive, but she tried not to show it.

Endgame drew close. It had been seven Earth years since her reign was formally challenged.

Seven years was a long time to keep such an important person waiting, and among the most troublesome burdens of her enhanced brain remained her infallible memory banks.

The date was St. Valentine’s Day, 2180 A.D.

“Lorelei!” the voice boomed out through the marbled hall outside the chamber as a diminutive figure marched across the crimson carpet like an ant treading a ribbon. Two droids flanked the stern-looking thirteen-year-old on either side.

The Queen laughed from atop her dais, her voice echoing around the empty room. Beside her, Lacie gave out a forced chuckle. She was sweating, almost nervous, her weakness showing.

For her part, Lorelei had been looking forward to this for two hundred years. Trusting metal over man, she dismissed the Royal Guard, leaving only Lily’s escorts.

“Dear Lillian, it’s Queen Lorelei to you, but I’ll forgive that first offense. I’m so happy you finally joined us.”

“A thousand pardons, O Queenie. I didn’t even recognize you. But that might just be the wrinkles talking,” Lily leered. “You’ve got some city miles, judging by those skin grafts.”

Lorelei fought the urge to end her former Captain’s life then and there. Patience was necessary for the ultimate humiliation.

“At least I am something to look at. You’re as ragged as the day I left you. Those ugly metal limbs must make it a pain to shower.”

Ignoring her, Lily inspected the chamber at a leisurely pace, arms crossed. She stopped just short of the gas lamps lining the dais like an altar and glanced at the various artifacts from every imaginable point in history haphazardly arranged, the cleaning and security droids tailing her every move.