by Kit Falbo
The other side is populated by folding tables and chairs while the walls are stocked with board games and a few comic cases. “Can I help you?” The man at the counter asks. If you had to pick someone out of the crowd to be the man who works at a game store, this is it. Everything from being slightly overweight to a Star Wars t-shirt.
“I heard that the Fair Quest player Chess comes here, Nate I think.”
A woman pops into the conversation. I hadn’t realized she was listening in. “You mean Jay? He’s pretty strict about going through the auction house if you want to buy one of the items he’s crafted.”
The man behind the counter clears his throat. “Lucy,” he says with a warning glare and points to a sign printed over the counter. It reads, No Talking About Other Patrons’ Personal or Gaming Information.
I stop myself from frowning when I hear he goes by Jay and not Nate, “I’m actually from Immersion Arts. Jay has become a big part of Fair Quest, and we were thinking of doing a piece on him.”
A man next to Lucy bounces a little excitedly. “I knew I recognized you. You were on Jimmy Stovell’s the Game Report. Chase, right?”
I groan inwardly, that is going to follow me forever. “I was on that show. Well, I’m looking for info on what kind of person he is, likes and dislikes and stuff. Anything quotable really.”
The owner, seeing that he won’t be able to stop this, turns most of his attention away to business behind the counter, though he is keeping one eye on us.
They guy next to Lucy says, “Quote this. He’s a cold serious hardcore gamer, started coming here like a year ago and shook all the casuals up.”
Lucy elbows him. “Come on Sam. He’s a nice enough kid, just kind of distant. Only really plays if there is something to win. If there is a local tournament or card game draft for credit, he’s usually there to win and then flip it into cash. Never really played casual games, just ones if there was money to be won. We were all surprised he joined Fair Quest. He usually just works the bet boards.”
“Bet boards?”
Lucy flushes, obviously unsure if she should mention that. “Underground-ish sites where you can wager against other players on who will win. Nothing big, but Jay was good.”
I’d heard of such places. “If he was so good, he ever try to go pro or do streaming?”
“He’s always been a bit shy or nervous. Not exactly unusual for gamers. Never even really likes having his picture taken for the wall of champions.” I look around to see what she’s talking about. Back behind the counter is an old-style tack board with even older Polaroids pinned to it. Who even uses those? Gamers holding mini-trophies decorate the wall. There were a few with a kid trying to hide behind his. I recognize the same worn jacket from outside the immersion center.
“I think that is enough of this.” The man behind the counter speaks up defensively. “If need be, I’ll ask you all to leave.”
Sam lets out a whine. “He really is from Immersion Arts. I can show you the video.”
I have what I need or at least what I think I’m going to get. “It’s okay. We all have rules we should follow.” I pay twenty dollars for figurine, hoping that will soothe the worker more than just coming in, asking questions and leaving without buying anything. It also gives me a few more minutes to look at the pictures on the wall. I am fairly certain it is the kid that was with the old man outside the immersion center.
I leave, walking back to my car. Still, something’s itching at the back of my mind. Why would Nate go by Jay in public? I suppose anyone could have a preferred name they go by. I turn to the file I made for the trip. One page is the photograph of the missing child. I’m still asking myself if this Nate is the boy who went missing all those years ago.
I grab dinner to go from some burger place named Boones, a stone’s throw from the hotel I’m staying in. I sit there hoping to put my doubts out of my mind. Even putting on the news doesn’t help. It’s the itch I can’t scratch and it’s not helping that I’m going to have to go to the second day of the leadership convention. I shudder a little. According to the flyer, it’s going to be a day of trust exercises.
Everything about this sucks more than dealing with Frank. The convention sucks, this mystery sucks, even more, time away from my wife sucks. I open the file and flip to the printout of the blog post. Off to the side, I see a contact email that’s many years old, probably defunct. Doesn’t hurt to try, I sit back and start to compose a message.
Chapter Thirty - Chess
What King needed me to do is socialize. That and give him almost all my in-game gold. I keep enough for six months of automated deductions to pay for the membership. Still, it hurts to see the number go down so far. If I can’t work on crafting safely, I don’t need so much to buy materials with.
I go to parties, and social events where Alerin shows me off to people he feels are important. It also reminds me this is a game. Every event has some quest that lasts at most between forty-five minutes and an hour. That way players using the headsets can do a quick quest or three while they are hooked up. The sudden influx of experience pushes me to level twenty-one, I just put everything in charisma when it came to stat boosts.
In some ways, it shatters the illusion of Jasper’s election because it fit the same format. I have to solve a puzzle box, take place in a murder mystery at a masquerade party, settle a series of disputes equitably. It might be fun if I wasn’t worried about life outside of the game. The one thing I’m not doing is working.
I keep thinking about Peacoat Man (Mr. Saunders) and his offer to have me play chess competitively. I still have his card in my wallet sitting with my things. Gramps would say no. I can feel my anger flash at that. I take a breath calming myself. Maybe if this plan doesn’t work out.
I log in at Alerin King’s office, still fretting. Alerin stands up from his sitting position with arms wide, “Good news! Tomorrow my man in the city council will push Jasper’s name forward in nomination to be king and, luck willing, it will go to the High Council in a week for the decision to be made. At this point, I put the odds of winning at two lucky coin flips, but gods willing, we win.”
A one in four chance, not sure how good that news is.
A week, I can wait a week. The last of my recent auctions will be over, I can either move on or come up with a different plan after that. Lose, then I can sell or rent myself to a guild to outfit them to safely cover rent, groceries, lawyer expenses, maybe put up for a portion of the contest winnings as part of the deal. Then retire or at least take a vacation from the game. Not working the forge has not made me miss the constant repetitive actions and sore muscles in the morning. Get Gramps off, maybe talk to him about me playing some real chess again.
I’ve obviously been standing here for a few minutes thinking. Alerin is standing respectfully, waiting. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to break the news to Jasper. As his Touched you’ll probably be best to tell him. A willing man is always best.” I remember the dance off. I know the implication is there that I can make him comply. That idea sickens me a little, but how hard can it be. After all, who doesn’t want to be king?
I get the quest notification and accept it. I could summon my companion, but it would both negate the quest and is strongly suggested it would not be a good way to break the news of our plans. Instead, Alerin hands me a pass to get into the government building where the city council conducts business.
Considering the convoluted nature of the voting and the secretive nature of it all, I wasn’t be surprised when the directions lead me to a dead end ally a few blocks away from the House of Justice. The walls around it are so high it makes it seem like dusk in their shadows. There is a single red brick on the wall. I have to push the one that is four bricks to the right and two bricks up from that one. It wiggles slightly, and there is a click.
Nothing happens. I wait a moment and check the instructions I was given. “Hello? This says I’m to answer five questions.”
&n
bsp; “Three questions,” calls a voice coming from the wall.
I sigh, checking the instruction. “Three questions? This says he who answers five questions.”
“Three questions and you may enter safely.”
I wait a little longer. “What are the questions doorkeeper?”
I hear some shuffling about. “What… is your name?”
“Chess.”
“What… is your quest?”
“To see and speak with representative Jasper.”
“What… is your favorite color?”
It’s green, but I answer according to the directions that were given to me. “Blue.” The bricks start to shift and fold inward.
It’s well-lit compared to the alley and waiting is a single guard with a long spear. “Papers please.”
I hand him the pass I received. He spends a few moments looking at it. It had looked like chicken scratches to me. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a Touched enter here before. You better not be telling more of your kind. I don’t want to have to deal with more showing up.”
This is the attitude I’ve seen more and more of in the game. When I first started, the NPC were friendlier or at least indifferent. My charisma is supposed to help with that. But it makes sense. Just ten percent of players behaving badly towards the non-player characters makes us an untrustworthy bunch. Plus, the NPC seem to have a long memory. Social quests should help rebuild trust in the Touched, but there are whole threads bemoaning social quests online and how difficult they are if you have low reputation and charisma.
It doesn’t help that there is a small group of players pushing back by being as mean and rude as possible to the NPC. Then there are the AI rights people, Asimov’s or Cit-Lovers as they are called on the other side. Forum threads end up in locked troll-filled messes. Like most of the players, I just want to avoid the drama. “I won’t tell anyone. Can you direct me to Jasper?”
The guard shrugs. “There should be a vote on the floor soon. They do about three a day, and most of the representatives show up. Just go straight down the hall. You can’t miss it.”
I start walking and can tell the floor is sloping down. I’m pretty sure it sloped down a good bit in the alleyway as well. It keeps on going farther than I thought it would until it ends. My jaw falls open at the spectacle of it, a large domed auditorium with more than two hundred silver desks surrounding a central speaking platform. Maybe a tenth of the desks are empty, while the rest holds representatives from every part of the city. Support staff buzzes around like bees attending to their needs, bringing food and drink, passing messages, even rubbing backs and necks. Gilded frescos lit by glowing balls of light adorn the walls, showing scenes from the history of the city.
I look around trying to spot Jasper among the hordes. I spot him only to see him taking his place at the center platform. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; the game always tries to play up coincidences for quests and events. In some ways, it is surreal knowing that if you go out and try to do something, an act requiring your involvement has a good chance of happening. The crafting areas like the forge are mostly immune.
He starts speaking. His voice is clear as though he is standing right next to me even though I’m at the edge of the room. “Fellow representatives, again I come to you imploring you that actions must be taken to curtail the men and women we call the Touched by the gods in our lands. They don’t respect us. They act as though there are no consequences to their actions, and to be fair, dying just means they come back. Even the most heinous of actions usually means only that they have a longer wait before returning. Whatever economic and training restrictions we put on them only minorly inconvenience them. There are always those willing to look the other way for extra money or a task they need completed.”
Jasper talking against players is one thing I had not expected. Our relationship has always seemed pretty friendly. He would tell me how the odd jobs went while we tried various drinks. He even got over the eccentric nature of the jobs rather quickly. I hadn’t ever talked to him about how he felt about people like me. Mostly, I’ve just been too busy.
I stand there fascinated, watching as he continues, “Even the best of them, those that some of us have grown to trust, have had episodes where they lash out. Saying it was because they were bored, or for fun. They even seem to be going mad at times spouting gibberish. They commonly stop and laugh about some kind of egg when there clearly is no egg. They treat us all like we are here for their entertainment.”
His impassioned statement is drawing no reaction from the crowd. He continues while looking determined but a little defeated. “As you know, despite considering my district my home, I still choose to live with the other companions, and you would be shocked to hear the stories they tell.”
It is clear he is no longer the shy bookmaker I first met. A bell rings in the room, and a deep voice announces, “Cleric Dolores for the rebuttal.”
Up walks a short, squat woman wearing cleric robes, they were dyed pink instead of the traditional white. She gets up on the platform, sharing the space with Jasper. She gives him a critical and disapproving harumph, letting her grunt of displeasure be heard by all before speaking herself. “Those Touched by the gods are a gift given to us by the gods, fighting our battles and solving our problems. But like everything god given, there is also a risk. The rain that waters our crops can also flood our towns. The wind that fills our sails can grow strong and strip things away. The fires that cook our food can also burn our houses down. The world with all its joys, also has sorrows and is not a peaceful place.” She makes a holy symbol before continuing. “The Touched are forces of nature provided by god, and like forces of nature, they bring good and bad. Their lack of fear, lack of death, brief spurts of madness show us that despite the appearances of life, they aren’t even truly alive as much as they appear to be. They deserve pity and shaping for they only exist for brief moments of time before they are gone, and some never return. There is no appropriate restriction or punishment for them because, in the end, they are not real people. They are just flames from the gods that flicker in and out of our world, acting like waves that can move us forward as much as they can come crashing down. “
I don’t know whether to be amused or insulted about being called something not truly alive by artificial beings in a video game. The deep voice calls out again. “We will now vote to put forward to the High Council a proposal to put further restrictions on the Touched. Those For.” The occupied desks started to light up glowing blue, less than half maybe a third of them. “Those against.” More than half of them now light up red clearly outnumbering the blues. “The proposal is defeated.”
I watch as Jasper and Dolores make their way back to their desks, following Jasper with my eyes, so I know where to go. I slowly make my way in that direction.
Most of the representatives I pass are either reading or writing at their desks. A few are sleeping, their snores audible. I’m close enough to him when he finally sees me that I can see a shocked look on his face. I smile, giving him the full force of my charisma. “You really believe I don’t respect you and that I’m going to go mad and snap?”
“Ch-Chess I didn’t know you were coming. It’s not that… um, I.”
Something about his flabbergasted look causes me to crack up. It has been a long time since I’ve laughed. “It’s okay. In some ways, I share many of your opinions of my fellows. It’s just that hearing it from you is not quite how I expected it.”
“So, you’re not mad?”
I ponder that. If Jasper had succeeded, he could conceivably have hurt my crafting. Still, it is my fellow players who are making it harder on me. Between their poor behavior and Gramps’ I think everyone could use a wakeup call. “No, I’m just shocked to be hearing you say those things. I’ve never heard you so forceful on the topic before.”
Jasper looks a little relieved but also embarrassed. It is all more human than I expect. As much as some things reminded me this is a game, o
thers make me forget. “The other representatives don’t know what it is like to be bonded with a Touched. You haven’t forced me to do anything the way I have seen happen to other companions. The other representatives just see you as useful tools who they can tell to do tasks they need done. The Touched are less a part of their lives than they are for most people in our world.”
I don’t really care that much. I’ve made my decision. In a week I will have won or moved on. Okay, looking at his face, seeing one of the few faces I see consistently, maybe I do care a little. I’m also curious. “And how do you see us?”
I can see in his eyes that this is not a conversation he wants to have. “Your name, Chess. It’s like that. You all are beings who see this as a game, and all of us as pieces to play with. And our purpose for being here is to entertain you, and it’s not right.”
It is deep, on the nose, and the type of point that games and movies with moral storylines like to play with. I appreciate the moment, but it’s not why I play. “You’re not wrong. I have something to tell you. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
With a nod, Jasper leads me to another underground area that isn’t spectacular and just has doors lining the halls. We enter one, and it opens to a small, modest room with a desk, a cot, a couple of guest chairs and a small bookshelf, all of which are pretty pedestrian. Magic lights keep it well lit. “Welcome to my office. What do you want to talk about?”
No point in beating around the bush. “Tomorrow your name will be put forth to be passed up to the High Counsel to be crowned king.”
“What!” Jasper physically backs away from me. “No. No. No. No. No. I’m already considered a joke here, or at best a novelty. That vote you saw me have is the most support I have gotten for any of my proposals. The vote will fail, and I will become a complete laughing stock. The boy who wanted to be king.”