21
Jay stretched luxuriously in bed but jumped, startled as the rather sexy voice of the home computer asked “Breakfast, sir?” in a posh English voice. The third morning in Villa 4, in this apartment, but he could not get used to it. He wondered whether it was harder to get used to the immediacy of it—being prompted just as he woke—or the voice itself, making it seem like he were waking next to a woman.
"Sure," he muttered. "Eggs, toast, beans."
"Yes, sir."
He pulled himself unenthusiastically out of bed and put on a shirt and jeans and walked out of the bedroom into the dining room. The space was huge, especially by British standards, a 12-foot ceiling of magnificent self-cleaning and malleable surface, set currently to emulate the sky above their heads—not so incredible on overcast days, but, he imagined, sun, rain and snow would look interesting. He hadn't stayed long enough to see for sure. Today's weather was not bad, cloudy but bright, and the room looked welcoming for it. The table in the room was made of the same stuff as the walls and ceiling and made to look of beautiful rich mahogany. As he sat down in a chair, leaning his elbows on the table, the wood in front of him morphed into a digital playlist, complete with music, videos, and news, a 21st century newspaper.
Jay ignored it while it continued to blink at him maniacally. Finally he closed it and slumped his head down on the table. Why was he so tired? There rang a sharp ding from opposite him and a small sliding door opened onto what looked like a dumbwaiter. Inside on a white plate, three coarsely peppered eggs, two buttered slices of toast and a hearty portion of baked beans billowed steam and ushered a delightful smell into the room.
He walked over and grabbed the plate and started eating. After finishing, he returned the plate to the dumbwaiter and the small door slid shut.
Peering into Billy and Faraji's bedrooms, Jay found them already gone. Not surprising considering he had slept until noon. Was it this place that made him so tired? Was it the utter lack of work to be done? Certainly, most of the adults who lived in the Villas had jobs or careers and could find work anywhere in the world, but the ease of living for anyone without an outside sense of purpose would be mind-numbing. Correction, he thought, I find it mind-numbing.
Odin hadn't contacted them for two full days, not since the day they arrived through a service elevator in the basement. The whole affair was beyond Jay's grasp. He couldn't understand how or why Odin had secured them this apartment. Surely someone would catch them here. Still, the scrolling green text had assured them that, so long as they kept their contacts in, they would remain safe, unless, it said, "you are unfortunate enough to have one of Them look straight at you.” It seemed the contacts were meant only to shield them from retinal scans.
Jay wasn't positive what instructions the text gave the other two boys. His directions were simple:
>>>Watch over Billy and Faraji.
Nothing more, nothing less. And a damn fine job he'd done this morning, sleeping while they jetted off to who knows what corner of this massive building.
He yawned again. Exploring the Villa was exhausting in itself to be sure. Yesterday the three of them took it upon themselves to find out all they could about their new squat. Each of the six superstructures was a city unto itself, with all the complexity and size one would expect of a vibrant metropolis. A person could learn about as much from reading about it as walking it. He'd already read Epoch's Guide to Villa 4, an extensive manual, describing its over 500 levels and prescribing the structure's many diversions and forms of entertainment. Interestingly enough, Epoch's Guide was opensource, but somehow only available to residents—how those in charge managed to control the document's leakage, Jay could not guess. It was difficult to believe just how hard it was to find such information outside the Villa's, considering inside it was a common point of reference, a name residents used on a daily basis.
According to the guide, Villa 4 was divided into five wings. The architect, a Ms. Irena B. Sebloski according to Epoch’s, designed the building to resemble a flower if viewed from above. Despite her obvious genius and the Villa's magnificent looks, Jay couldn't help but think that no one, or almost no one, would ever see the building from the top. It was over a mile high. In any case, each of the five wings were dubbed Petals. The tips of Petals 1 and 2 towered an incredible 300 floors above ground but paled in comparison with the majesty of Petal 5's peak at 551 floors.
Jay rose and walked to the window. The apartment was on the 121st floor and faced the inside of Petal 2. The window looked out on one of the numerous multifloor courtyards that appeased those unable to pay the increased price for an apartment looking out onto the city. Windows and apartments surrounded the courtyard on all sides, their windows made from the same malleable material as the tables and ceiling and allowing even the residents facing the inside to see a projected view of the weather and city below. The effect created a supernatural hanging garden that both fooled the senses and gave the illusion of having a residence in the sky. Jay shook his head as he saw it. Simply genius.
He gazed out at the cityscape below. Remarkably clear weather made it possible to see the outer reaches of the city to the south, the ongoing construction of Villa 6 to the north, and the impressive crux and block architecture of Villa 5. A monstrous ten-lane motorway linked all the Villas together and formed the barrier that unofficially marked the border of London Proper. Strangely, it was not busy—he saw only a couple dozen cars traversing the gap.
"Any messages?" he said. He'd almost forgotten to ask.
"None, sir." said the computer.
"What time did they leave?"
"Four hours before your rise, sir. They left at 8:55am."
"They left together?"
"Yes, sir."
Nevermind, he thought. He would have to keep better track of them in the future. His only instructions were to do that, and perhaps the work would wake him up. But they were already gone, and neither of them carried cellphones, so it looked like just another morning of exploration. He returned to his bedroom, put on a different T-shirt, a pair of black socks and his shoes, and left through the front door.
Faraji and Billy had spent nearly all night in their separate bedrooms reading Epoch's Guide, and were quite surprised to find the other awake in the morning. They nodded and smiled tentatively to the other. They were still on uncertain terms since Faraji had stonewalled Billy's questions about Odin. After eating their breakfasts in silence, each of the boy's made to leave.
"Where you going?" Billy asked, then ventured, "Thought I might check out floor 76."
Faraji smiled and shrugged.
"I was thinking the same."
They walked out the door, biding the computer farewell, and stopped in front of the gleaming silver doors of the elevators. A number of people were also queueing. Billy thought most of them looked very professional, probably on their way to work in the city. One pudgy faced man was wearing his tie so tight it looked like his cheeks might burst. He kept adjusting it nervously and looking in the direction of a well-dressed and buxom brunette woman. The doors slid open, going down, and everyone, perhaps eight or nine others pressed their respective floors.
"76, please," said Billy from near the back of the elevator.
Someone obliged him, he couldn't see who, maybe the Japanese woman in the front.
An elderly woman next to him said.
"Shouldn't you boys be in class? How old are you?"
"No, marm, no school today. We're new here."
"Rubbish, today's no holiday, children should be in school at this hour! Where are your parents?”
Ding. A voice said "Floor 76, please alight." And the boys rushed out with a few excuse me's and the door shut behind him.
"Not sure what I was expecting," said Billy, "better than this though."
Faraji wrinkled his eyebrows and nodded.
"Not much to look at, is it?"
Floors 76 to 90 were referred to in Epoch's Guide as the Experience Rooms, but also noted that Villans (pronounce the same as 'villains') referred to it more colloquially as Oz. The name conjured up many images in Billy's mind, none of which prepared him for the mundanity of what he actually saw. What he saw was a long hallway lined with doors. The walls were a slack grey color and the floors white tile. Two tracks ran the length of the hallway dissecting its middle, but Billy could not see its purpose. Directly in front of the elevator doors was a small reception desk, and behind it sat a lanky blond-haired man with a long neck and a very large Adam’s apple.
The man stood up as they walked closer. He was impressively tall.
"Welcome to Oz, boys," he said with a smile. "Two rooms? You boys know what you're looking for?"
Billy and Faraji looked at each other.
"First timers, I imagine. You boys look a little lost."
Billy nodded, "Uh, yeah. First time. Is this really Oz?"
The man smile amicably, "Well no, of course not, you're not there yet. I’ll put you down for rooms 117 and 119. Don't worry about not knowing the way. Know computers?"
"Uh, yeah, I suppose."
"Alright then, you'll figure it all out. Just step on this." He pressed something unseen behind his desk and a platform manifested from behind the man’s desk and onto the tracks that led down the hall. "Only two things to remember. First, if you have any problems just say 'Oz's no fun' and I'll be there in a jif. Second, if you start to feel claustrophobic after you're all strapped in, just turn it on quickly and you'll be fine. Shut it all down by just saying 'off.' When you're finished the tram will pick you up and bring you back here. It all sound easy? Ready for Oz?"
They boarded the tram and sat down and it whizzed past the row of doors like a flush rollercoaster. A few people raced in the opposite direction: a young girl a little older than Billy and an old man, but they passed too quickly to really see their faces. After rounding a long curve, the minitram stopped in front of their rooms. They got off.
"Be seeing you," said Billy.
"Yeah," Faraji was very serious as always. “In Oz."
Billy left him in the hallway and entered the room. It was not as cramped as he'd expected; the room looked to be about 12x12. In the center there was a chair, on the wall hung a headset, and a facemask. In front of him a miniature screen in the wall read, "Welcome to the experience rooms, please put on your gear."
He picked up the headset and inspected it. From an ovular plate at its top sprung eight leg-like prongs that made the thing look very much like a spider. At the end of each leg a bud-like receiver. Billy put it on and then donned the facemask. The latter item looked cumbersome, but actually was very light. It had holes to allow airflow and several other apparatus that he did not understand. The mask's eyeglasses were clear and wide. They allowed for complete peripheral vision. He found they were not turned on and saw the screen in front of him read, "Please remove items of clothing and sit in the chair. When all equipment is in place say 'On.'"
He put his shoes and clothes in a locker on the front wall. He placed himself in the chair and sat back. The seat was covered in a very soft layer of material. The armrests and leg supports had guides that forced his appendages to be straight and made him feel just like a patient in an evil dentist's office. As his body was in position and head against the rest, a blanket of the same material descended from the ceiling and covered his entire body from neck to toes. It was oddly heavy for such a thin material. He soon found himself thinking of the lanky man's words. The blanket began wrapping itself around him, vacuum sealing his body inside.
His vision went dark.
"On."
As he spoke the words his vision burst into an array of flying colors, so shockingly vivid. His body experienced a feeling of floating through nothingness for a minute until he finally found himself somewhere, sitting in a chair similar to the one he knew was actually there, but without guides or the suffocating material on his body. In front of him was the shimmering sea and beyond a glorious display of clouds. A moment passed before a menu appeared in the air before him. It read:
Welcome to Oz, where our imagination is your excitation. Select an option.
There was only one option: Set parameters of personal profile.
He said it and the scenery changed around him.
He was in a large white room, without windows or doors, but he was not alone. On the opposite end a handsome man with brown hair and a thick greying beard walked towards him.
"Hello, I am Leo," the man said. "I am the tutorial program for the experience room. There are a few things we must do before you can begin making the most of your time in Oz. First, sir, what is your name?"
"Billy."
"Alright, Billy. We're going to adjust your headset." As he said the word one of the arachnoid devices materialize above his head. "Now, this headset will allow you to use nothing but your mind to manipulate the world around you. It's a technology developed at the turn of the century but never fully put to use until now. It measures the electrical pulses in your brain. Perhaps you are wondering, can it really read my thoughts? The answer is no, it cannot. The outer layer of the brain is one of the most unique structures in the human body, like the fingerprint or the retina. Everyone's is different, making it absolutely impossible to read minds without knowing exactly how each individual thinks. Shall I repeat that, Billy?"
"No, thank you."
"Excellent. Now it can, however, note the way you think certain thoughts and associate that pattern with a computer function or command. So, in essence, we've got to see how you think before you can use that thought as a command in Oz. Yes, you're teaching the computer. Shall I repeat myself?"
"So I'm going to have to think every thought that I could possibly want to use before I begin?"
"No, thankfully we have created a beginners list of about one thousand actions and thoughts that you must log before you begin." Billy groaned, but Leo continued. "The process has been streamlined and now takes only about three hours. Most of our users find it fatiguing mentally, so before we start let's make a couple of more superfluous, more fun associations for your own motivation. How does that sound, or shall I repeat myself?”
Billy felt his excitement ebbing. "Let's go on," he said dully.
"Excellent. Now, Billy, if you wouldn't mind, I am going to ask you to think several different thoughts. Please continue thinking about only what I have asked, one thought at a time—usually between four and eight seconds. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Excellent. Please think the thought: hand. You may look at your hand if you wish, but please hold that thought and only that thought in your mind. Okay, hand. Begin now."
Billy glanced down at his hand and thought about his hand as hard as he could.
"Well done, Billy. That seems to have taken. Next one is a bit more abstract, so here's a visual aid. Now think: fire." A roaring fire appeared in front of Leo's feet. Billy was incredulous; he could feel the heat in the front of his body. "Begin now, Billy."
The fire disappeared and Leo smiled enigmatically.
"You're doing very well. Our next thought is: ball."
A ball materialized, floating in midair between Billy and the tutorial program.
"Excellent. Our next thought is a bit more abstract still, but one of the most important for the experience rooms, especially if you're planning on becoming a gamer. Appear. I would like you to visualize this ball appearing from nothing. Try not to focus so much on the ball itself as much as the fact that it is appearing. If you can." As if to show by example the ball vanished, then appeared, then vanished again.
Billy concentrated and visualized that very thing.
"Well done, Billy, you're almost there. It will all become clear in a moment. One last thought, more specific than the rest of them:
Visualize a ball of fire coming to life in your hand."
The thought excited Billy's imagination. He closed his eyes in concentration.
Nothing happened, he opened his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Not to worry, Billy. Remember, we were only training the computer there, not expecting it to happen. But now it's got it. So try again. You're live, so to speak."
Billy repeated the same thought, his palm outstretched expectantly, and was rewarded. A glowing sphere of red fire burst into existence just above the palm of his hand. The heat was palpable but not painful. For a moment it stayed, making Billy feel the glorious feeling of creation. Then the fire disappeared.
"Not bad on your first try, Billy. Remember, the fire will only stay if you can maintain your concentration. As any gamer will tell you, your power here relies on your mental discipline. If you want a fireball at the tips of your fingers, you must be thinking it, or else train the computer to know you wish it to stay."
"How do I do that?" Billy asked eagerly.
"Stay in your chair, of course. Now that you have a taste of the possibilities, shall we get down to work?"
Come late afternoon Billy felt truly drained. He'd worked with Leo, followed the program's instructions without rest, and now the process was finally over. Leo told him that there were still many advanced associations to make, some overlapping, some game-specific, but that he had learned a great deal in a very short time. It was time to have some fun. He'd learned how to walk, talk, and interact in the virtual world. Leo's words were always encouraging. Predictable, Billy thought, his writers would never make him rude in a public environment. The program would joke sometimes though, whenever Billy was beginning to lose focus. “Good going, sport," he would say, "now try it again, but this time not so much like a mongoloid."
Billy was just taking a short rest before the real adventure would begin. His mind was actually tired; he hadn't realized just how taxing concentrating, actually concentrating, for three full hours could be. The sun was in the distance and the sounds and smells of the ocean filled his nostrils via the facemask. This is only the menu screen, he thought, and it is truly beautiful.
He scrolled through the semi-opaque menu and selected the option Popular Worlds. A large list expanded to fill up his entire field of vision. Most users seemed to be immersed in a world called Blizzard's Gate, a game of some sort. He peered around the list looking for something to catch his eye. More names: Fourstone Universe, The Machine, Immortal Struggle, Massive Psyche, Stadium, Emulation Station, House of Mirrors, Gameyard, Calliope’s Rock. Too many to choose from. He imagined they were all worth seeing but decided to choose only one for today.
Each world had a rating next to it. From 10 golden circles to 1—judging the difficulty and intensity of each. Blizzard's Gate was rated ten. In fact, most were rated ten. Only three were not: Stadium, a four, was a sports game; Gameyard, a two, was a children's game; and Calliope’s Rock, a six. The latter's explanation was rather cryptic: Visit Calliope on her rock.
He was not much of a sportsman, and had always detested children's games. He selected Calliope’s Rock. Give the harder games a go later, he thought.
The white sands and blue water dissolved into cloudy white and new surroundings faded gradually into place. He stood up from the chair to look around.
A thatched cottage in the middle of a vivacious forest. Massive trees surrounded the building's small clearing while ferns and grass covered all the ground with thick green. He felt warmth on his back. The air was not particularly cold, but as he turned he saw a small fire on the hearth within the cottage. A small part of his mind marveled at the fact that he could walk around, knowing he was only in a small room: "Won't I walk into the wall?" he'd asked Leo. Leo had explained that the floor actually moved to compensate for his movements—he was six feet from the wall at anyone given moment, no matter how he moved. "Don't jump," Leo warned. "Then, you'll hit a wall. But why jump when you can learn to fly?”
The inviting heat drew him to the cottage doorway.
"Hello?" he called.
"Hello, Billy," a distinctly feminine voice said from behind him.
He turned about to look and came face to face with perhaps the most lovely woman he had ever seen in his life. She smiled, showing brilliant white teeth, and extended her hand.
"I'm Calliope," said the woman, "very pleased to meet you."
He took her hand and shook it awkwardly. Billy was well aware that this woman was not real. Yet, some part of him could not help but appreciate her beauty; it was almost sublime. Calliope’s hair was shiny and lustrous, and it flowed all the way down to the small of her back. She was not tall, just about Billy's height. Her face was roundish, arching downward and meeting under delicate lips. Her collarbone was equally feminine and formed a frame above her very large and joltingly exposed breasts. Calliope was not wearing much, a thin magenta dress which ended at the top of her thighs. Billy felt hot, conflicted. He was staring. He could not look away from her. She did not seem to mind. She was of course just a computer program but Billy's sense of decorum urged him to make conversation.
"Hello, Calliope. What is this place?"
"This is my house. Many people come here to visit me. They find it relaxing, a home away from the stresses of real life. Why have you come here, Billy?"
"Well, to be honest, I didn't know exactly where here was until now. Just thought I'd see what it's about."
Calliope smiled disarmingly, her eyes gazing directly into his.
"It's about you," she said. "This places is here for you and you alone. Anything you wish can happen in this place. Only for your relaxation and peace of mind. Does this forest please you?"
"Yes, it's very beautiful."
"What if it wasn't a forest? We could be anywhere, where would you choose. What about on top of a mountain, on a ship far out at sea, do you see? Wherever you find most enticing, I can take you to that place." She smiled and clasped her hands together in front of her. "I too am here for you, my purpose is only to love you and make you feel happy. Are my looks to your liking?"
"Yes, they're . . . you're very beautiful."
"I'm glad you think so, but I can change them any time you like. Many of my visitors like blonds, women and some men like me as a man. I can change my height, my weight, my color, my face. Some men enjoy it when I enlarge my bust."
Billy nearly choked on air.
"Come, Billy, my new friend." She walked forward and put a soft finger to his cheek and her other hand curled around his. "Come lay by the fire," she said in a sultry voice, "tell me all about yourself, and about what you desire."
Only about two dozen feet behind Billy, in room 117, Faraji was engrossed in a drastically different experience. He had elected to enter Blizzard's Gate. He was just about to die and having the time of his life.
The sky above him was terrifying; an insidious colored electrical storm rolled towards them, while what remained of the clear sky displayed a dazzling triad of moons floating in a nebula of red and purple space dust. He was in the middle of a battalion of other users, though one could hardly guess their identities to look at them. Their appearances were as unpredictable as the game itself. Excepting that most users looked humanoid, the scene could have been one from a fantasy film—massive axe-carrying lion men, goggle-eyed alien characters, sharp toothed lizard creatures, beautiful elves, and leathery and massive headed goblins, men and women with features too perfect to be real, holding weapons large enough to dwarf any in the real world.
Sounds rose up to meet the coming storm. The battalion was fighting a losing battle. One against many. The whole company against one huge slavering dog, Cerberus. The beast towered over all of them, his three ferocious heads tore at members one after another, sending them into the graveyard.
Faraji, disguised as a turbin-wearing mystic, felt completely alive, but inadequate. Those still alive around him were throwing tremendous force at the beast. He concentrated, focusing a wreath of blue flame that locked like a collar around one of the giant dog's thick necks. The head seemed hardly to worry about the pain, but took notice of Faraji, dashing dozens of other users to the ground as it bounded towards him. The big dog bent its massive middle head down, engulfed the avatar’s torso in a crush of long teeth and swallowed him whole. Faraji felt a sharp, but not painful pressure over his chest, where he'd been bitten. The feeling disappated momentarily. He was dead.
The world faded out from black and the computer placed him on a high ridge overlooking the frightful battle. It looked as if they would fail and Cerberus would kill them all. Faraji raised a transparent hand to cheer for the remaining seven users. They were impressive; it was clearly not their first day. It appeared they knew each other too, and were now organized for their final stand.
Two massive tauren, great bull creatures with sharp horns extending from their foreheads led the way, hacking at the beast's forelegs with gruesome five-foot bladed axes, keeping it off balance. A row behind them a thick-necked human bowman was drawing back a massive longbow. His arrows hit the dog in quick succession. The man was aiming for the dog's faces. One shot barely missed an eye. An alien bounty hunter stood beside him brandishing a sniper rifle in both arms. Behind them two beautiful sorceresses burnt, froze, and electrified Cerberus. Still behind them, a man hovering crosslegged wearing white, currents of energy flowing from himself into the two tauren, a healer.
Maybe there is a chance, Faraji thought from limbo.
Suddenly the archer and alien managed to blind one of the heads.
"Here," roared one of the tauren, dropping his axe and going down on one knee. The alien dropped his gun and ran, vaulting off the bull and onto the blinded and thrashing head. The flying assailant landed roughly and grabbed patches of hair for support. He brought out a second weapon, one from the great stories of the last century, a lightsaber, and drove it deep through the back of the beast's neck. The demon slumped and the alien swung round, taking the head clean off.
A great ululation went up from the dozens of dead onlookers.
Faraji was in awe. Odin had told him that he must learn to navigate cyberspace, and it looked like he might have found an entire team of teachers.
It took the better part of an hour for the seven to kill the remaining two heads. In the process the alien and one of the sorceresses died, but to everyone's surprise the two tauren severed the monster's last head, and the body dropped to the ground. The dead roared elatedly and the five remaining users turned toward the ridge and bowed together. The sorceress curtsied girlishly and blew a kiss. The priest snapped his fingers, and in bold black letters a message appeared.
Raiders—Guild for Virtuosos—Queens Bloody Pub—Timor—Sector 7
"Off," said Faraji. His stomach rumbled snappishly. He had to leave for the day, but he knew what to do on his next visit. He would find his new mentors.