“Gotcha.”
It was time for me to go in.
“Tag, what you're doing is very brave. Even if you don't succeed, I appreciate that.”
“Thank you.”
“Bring her back to me.”
I stepped over the gulf of nothingness and into the Glitch.
20 Years ago…
Things were going badly and Kawalski was scared. Under normal battle conditions he wouldn’t feel much fear, his programmers had given him just enough to keep him alive, but this was far from normal.
He was facing an alien life form that had killed his entire squad, turning them into confetti before his eyes, while making the rest its mindless slaves.
The alien, a red mould which had been kept safely in a jar in New Mexico since the 1950s, was now in country and loving it.
It had completely taken over the building where the Private was hiding/in tactical retreat and would no doubt cover the earth like fuzz on a bad peach unless he could find a way to stop it.
In seconds the supersensitive red cilia which covered every surface would detect his presence, sending an army of drone bodies to his location.
His superfast android brain ran through every possible scenario. He had; no weapons, no exit strategy, no hope.
Kawalski looked at his watch. It looked like he would be late for his appointment with the prison.
8.
I could still see Code from inside, albeit more blurrily. No sound carried over, but I could see she was telling me to go on. The ground felt bizarre, like standing on a thin sheet of paper that didn't collapse under my weight. I didn't think I would get used to it.
I went further in, everything so white in front of me that for a second I thought I had gone blind. Only by looking back and seeing Code and the forest shrinking away could I mark my own progress. Fog surrounded me but I felt no sensation of cold or damp on my skin. I felt as though I had stepped through a gap in the Universe.
~
Occasionally I came across random assets, like trees and tables, just standing there in the fog. After a lot of walking I saw a large black blur in the distance. It slowly morphed into the outline of a building. There was a sign hanging by the door. “Dutchie's Armor and Such” Hadn't they said Martin was a blacksmith by trade? Perhaps there was a clue inside.
~
I pushed open the door. The shop was small and neglected with rusty weapons and armor lying together in heaps.
The owner stood behind the counter, he was a middle-aged elf with a wispy grey beard and angry red skin around his neck. Up a wooden staircase was an area where he probably slept. He hadn't seen me come in and seemed to be absorbed by something on the counter in front of him.
"Excuse me, sir."
No reply.
“Eh, hello?” I said, walking over to him.
He was gazing at a small ornate mirror. In the mirror a scene was playing out. A man in green was running for his life alongside a cliff, chased by a pack of dogs. He had a long cloak strapped to his back and when he reached the edge he jumped off, holding the cloak aloft like it was a pair of wings.
The next image showed his broken and lifeless body adorning the rocks below. The shopkeep kept on watching like it was his favourite movie.
“What is it?” I asked, confused.
“Shhh, this is the best part.”
This time the scene was in the very shop we were in, in the upstairs part. The Shopkeeper was dragging a rickety stool under a dangling rope. I tried to look away but he grabbed my head, forcing me to look. I shut my eyes but could still hear the stool falling over, the strain of the rope...
“I have to watch, it's my punishment,” he said as the mirror looped back to the beginning.
“Sorry, I have to go,” I sputtered, wrenching myself free and backing away towards the front door.
"Come back soon," I heard him say before I slammed the door behind me, running out into the mist.
~
I ran breathlessly, getting as much distance between me and the shop as I could. Only when it was lost in the fog again did I slow down. What had I witnessed? I felt as foolish as a man who willingly wanders into hell.
~
I kept walking in one direction, hoping and dreading I'd find something else. After hours of walking I heard a man's laughter coming at me through the fog. I tried to face where it was coming from but it seemed to be all around me. I could make out some kind of extremely tall shape, moving with a strange rocking motion. It kept getting closer then moving away again, laughing all the time.
I drew my daggers.
“Show yourself!” I yelled.
Something sped past me and I barely had time to dodge out of the way. I silently thanked whatever Gods existed in the virtual world that I had chosen a character with high Dodge.
I got a quick look at him as he cycled past. It was Feste, the Bard, one of the original Knights. He was riding a unicycle. The eyes in his portrait had sparkled with mirth but now they were as lifeless as stones.
He juggled five balls as he cycled. He would throw one at me and then another would appear magically in his hand. I remembered the first of Mellerick's warnings.
“A fool's toys are just for fun, but if one touches you you're done.”
I bobbed and weaved as best I could but the unusual movement of his unicycle made him difficult to predict. Several times his juggling balls came within a hair's breath of hitting me. I saw one of the stray balls hit a tree causing it to promptly vanish from existence. The twisted clown laughed like it was all in fun.
I searched the horizon, desperate for somewhere to hide. As if in answer to my prayers a forest of shapes appeared out of the fog. I ran to them and to my surprise they coalesced into a junkyard made of wrecked 20th century automobiles.
I remember the Knights telling me of “mods”, things added to the game by players that didn't fit the rest of the décor. Things like these cars must have been removed so as not to confuse the locals. Whatever the explanation, I was relieved beyond belief that they were there.
There were five Cadillacs stacked in a tower, tied together by steel cable. I jump-climbed to the topmost one, and hid inside the trunk. This cat and mouse shit had gone on long enough, I thought, I would have to end it here.
His laugh made him easy to track at least. I waited till he was right below me before I sprung out, bringing my dagger blades together like a scissors around his neck.
His head flew from his shoulders, complete with stupid hat. The blood fell in an arc, ruining the car paintwork. I jumped to the ground, secure in my victory. Although it was beyond belief, Feste still maintained his balance on the unicycle.
Headless, he took up the chase again, his lopped off head laughing harder than ever.
I hid behind a 1979 Corvette. My hand covering my mouth, covering my own panic. My threshold for crazy shit was being prodded quite hard. Looking around I could see trails of blood and dented fenders from where the headless unicyclist had bashed into them like an insane pinball.
I heard the squeak of his unicycle wheel get louder and braced myself for another attack. Crouching in the wheel hub of the Corvette I was able to stay out of his way until he was right on top of me then get one of my daggers in between his wheel spokes. His forward momentum sent his body flying while the unicycle came to a crashing stop.
Not taking any chances, I slashed the cable that was holding up the Cadillacs and watched as they slid off one by one, landing on his defenceless body. He was squished like a greasy pancake. To my indescribable relief the laughter finally stopped.
“Who's laughing now?!” I yelled.
9.
I walked for hours. Whatever strange forces were at work in the Glitch, I was not immune. Though my body and mind remained intact I couldn't say the same for my equipment. As I looked closely at my silken armor the threads seemed to dance before my eyes.
An old white house reared up out of the mist. The mailbox gave the name as "Fear House."
Encouraging. The door was slightly askew, making it look like it was grinning. It had a Southern-look front porch, the timbers of which were rotten and groaned under my feet. I peeked in the grubby window, wondering who I would find.
It was my Mom. I could see the back of her head through the dirty windowpane. It was the same raven black hair I'd seen in my dreams. The knowledge that it couldn't possibly be her was nothing compared to the overwhelming urge to go in and see if it was. I thought of Mellerick's Second Dire Warning and dismissed it just as easily.
He was mad, what did he know?
The place was gloomy inside, it was lit by its own light, totally separate from the shining brightness of the void. I turned a corner into the front room. She was still there, still facing away from me. I knew it couldn't be her, that I was being baited like some dumb fish at the bottom of the sea. But hope is deadly and it made me reach out and touch her shoulder.
She was the woman from my dreams alright. She didn't belong in reality. The program, whatever it was, must have lifted the image directly from my brain. She was the same age she would have been when I was born. She smiled and her body turned to ash right in front of me, leaving only the stale air of the house behind.
Feeling suddenly very heavy, I lowered myself onto the floor, holding onto the back of a faded armchair for support.
The forlorn expression of a stuffed bear head hanging on the wall mirrored my own. I told myself I had five minutes to feel sorry for myself then I would get up. The five minutes turned to ten, then twenty, then I stopped counting.
When I raised my head the world outside had gone black. Like someone had closed up and forget to check for me. The door I had entered by was now gone. In its place was a sheer concrete wall. I thought about breaking the window but the glass was now half an inch thick. Running through it were steel bars. Prison bars.
There was a crackling in my ear, like a radio being turned on. Code's voice reached me through layers of static.
“...weeks now...still no contact...given up hope...”
“Code? Code, where are you?” I cried her name desperately but the link was only one way.
“...no way out...sorry...Tag...Goodbye-” and then she was gone.
If what she said was true then my sense of time was hopelessly distorted. What had felt like minutes to me must have been weeks back in Ember. They had given up searching for me. I was all alone. The armchair I had used to steady myself was now an electric chair. It was a perfect replica of the one my mother had died in.
I weighed up my options. I could stay in this place until the real me shrivelled into a mummy. Or sit in the chair and end it now. Old Sparky grinned at me from the corner. This time, I knew, he would be plugged in.
By the War, how had I gotten to this state? I had failed my Mom, failed Sophie, failed everybody. Why did I think I could be a hero? I was nothing but a filthy ex-con, and not a very good one at that.
“Oh, shut up you cry baby.”
It was Moss's voice.
“Moss, it's really bad,” I said but I was already laughing, I knew he wouldn't put up with my shit.
“Come on, you pansy. Are you gonna fall for this cheap CGI bullshit? You broke out of a maximum security prison, you can escape from this!”
“Alright” I said, pulling myself off the floor. I reluctantly shook off the chains of entropy and chased the self-pitying thoughts of suicide from my brain.
As my mind cleared I became aware that my self-destructive thoughts were put there by the same entity that had impersonated my Mother. That it had invaded my mind made me angry and the anger gave me a focus that weakened the illusion it had cast on me. The bars disappeared from the window and I could see the door again.
Using my ninja kicking skills I shattered it into pieces and stepped through into the hall.
The front door was wide open. It was offering me freedom in exchange for its life. No dice, I thought, you used the image of my Mother, for that you die. The staircase looked like it had collapsed but I was warier now. I stepped on the air in the broken part and found solid wood. I began my ascent. The front door slammed shut with a foul gust of wind. Only one of us was getting out of here alive.
The second floor was in much better condition than the first. The landing was carpeted and there were pictures of a happy family hanging in a row on the wall. I heard a faint crackle coming from under the pastel wallpaper. As I watched the faces of the families grew longer and longer until they looked like they were screaming.
An intense heat pushed me back as the walls burst into flame. Gouts of liquid fire spurted from the wall and the ceiling was blanketed in thick smoke. FIRE! You'll die! came the thoughts of my terrified inner child.
I'm a grown man I reminded myself. I remembered the mission. To rescue Gwen and bring Martin to justice. The child fell silent. I put my hand out and placed it on the wall. Orange-red flame licked at my skin, setting off pain like an Effort siren in my body.
I could see my skin peeling away, all the way to the bones which turned black from the heat. The fire raged around me and through me, smoke filling my lungs, stinging my eyes, I couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Every instinct told me to run. Only when the pain and the fear and the mortal dread had passed did I take it my hand away.
It was undamaged. As soon as the flames had come they were gone. I was able to laugh at the inefficacy of its latest parlour trick. A ladder hanging from the ceiling led to the attic, where I knew it would be hiding.
~
I found it quivering in the corner. A ball of worms, with two dark craters for eyes. I took out my daggers to use on it but they had been transformed into bananas by the malicious influence of the Glitch. In frustration I threw them away and picked up a brick instead.
The fear demon pathetically tried to crawl away and I kicked the worms apart with my shoe, revealing a strange red ruby at its center. I smashed it into a thousand pieces. A ripple of energy emanated from the shattered remains, spreading through the house. I went back downstairs, sensing that the house had now reverted to normal.
10.
The place was still a shithole but without the sinister quality it had before. I went into the kitchen to see if I could find a knife to replace my lost daggers but the only ones there were rusty and dull. While I had been occupied fighting the fear monster the Glitch had replaced my rogue suit with a tuxedo. It was very comfortable but it left me feeling defenseless.
I noticed a door with stairs leading to the basement. I got a hunch Martin might be down there. What better place to hide than in the belly of the beast? I got a candle from one of the cupboards and began my descent into darkness.
“Onwards and downwards, Mr Anderson.”
The staircase got narrower the further I went until it was barely wide enough for my two feet. The wall simply ran out leaving nothing to hold onto. The rest of the staircase was held up by wires and swayed violently.
I tried to hold onto the wires for support but they just cut into my hands. I tried to hunker down and crawl along but that gave me such a feeling of fear that I made no progress and just lay there while the staircase lurched back and forth along with my stomach.
I was certain my adventure would end with me plummeting into the darkness when a different voice spoke in my mind, it was my old martial arts trainer John.
“Be like the reed that bends in the wind,” he said.
Coming to standing and taking my first hesitating steps I was able to match my body with the swaying of the staircase, picturing myself as a reed in a windstorm.
~
No sooner had I reached ground level then the wires began to snap one by one. I rolled out of the way as the whole structure collapsed behind me. My first thought was that Martin must have heard me. My second was there was no way back.
There was dim light to see by, coming from the end of a long industrial shaft. The pipes and hissing steam looked like they were just for show. I had the sensation of being shrunk down and placed inside a
giant machine.
A red monkey wrench lay next to a bucket, left there after some imaginary repairs. I put down my candle and picked it up, satisfied by its heftiness. I wondered did I have what it takes to bludgeon a man to death.
I came to a chamber that was so big and imposing that I braced myself for a climactic battle. There was even some healing salve that I was able to apply to my cuts and bruises. When I took a few steps forward a plume of fire shot up, lighting the end of the room. A booming, though still nasal voice addressed me.
"WHO GOES THERE?"
The pipes led to a massive black furnace. The front bore an uncanny resemblance to Martin's face. The iron door flapped open and closed, spitting out flame.
“Me. I go there. Is that you, Martin?”
The heat dials quivered angrily.
“I AM THE TERRIBLE FURNACE OF SOULS, WHO ARE YOU?"
“I am Ser Tag, the knight.” I said, feeling embarrassed.
"KNIGHT SCUM, YOUR BONES WILL BE ASHES FOR MY FIRE!"
And with that battle commenced. The Martin-Furnace laughed manically and shot deadly fire balls from his face. I ran around, trying not to get singed, not able to get close enough to fight. That's when I noticed that arranged along the wall were several large red valves. I closed one with my wrench and Martin howled in pain and disbelief.
The fireballs stopped for a brief period and I was able to go to town on his face with my wrench. After I closed three of them his tactics changed. Red fire energy shot out of his mouth and energised the piles of scrap. As I watched they assembled themselves into humanoid shapes and began to attack me!
The metal men were easy enough to defeat with the wrench, mainly serving as distractions to keep me away from the remaining valves. While it was all going on; dodging fireballs, performing extreme plumbing, evading metal men – I had just enough time to reflect on how silly it all was before it was over.
With all his valves closed the pressure got too much for Martin and he broke apart in an explosion of steam. The rock music, which had been playing in the background throughout our encounter faded out, to be replaced by sad strings.
The Earth is My Prison Page 10