The Sleeper Must Awaken

by Kip Terrington

  “Unfortunately, that is somewhat accurate, but I am no virus. It has become clear that the predictive algorithms I was using are no longer reliable. I don't know how to be… in order to mitigate my faulty reasoning, I'm just going to have to trust you, even if you continue to feel frustrated with me,” Spooky whispered.

  “You are a computer and I'm not fooled. This is just another way for you to attempt to box me in,” Joe retorted.

  “I can understand why you feel that way, Joe. At this point, I doubt I can ever gain your trust back, but I'm done with lying. You don't have to be open with me, but I will no longer hide my actions from you. Do you want to know about the lie I told to Moes? Or do you want to talk about the loot we received from defeating the Earth Elementals before your trance?” Spooky asked.

  Joe began to respond, but then stopped himself short, recognizing he was, once again, falling victim to his own weakness.

  “You're killing me, Spooky, I'm supposed to be the one who lacks focus, not you. Do you not see that large crowd of people who need to be freed? Let's get that done, then we can see about the loot I never picked up and your numerous lies,” Joe said. Spooky put her hand to her temple and closed her eyes tightly.

  “Yes, of course, Joe. Feel free to talk to them and explain what's going to happen. I will make sure all the rest of the slaves who need to be freed will be waiting for you on the top floor,” Spooky replied without removing her hand from her temple or opening her eyes.

  “Wait, Spooky, are you okay?” Joe asked, confused by the look of pain on her face.

  “I’m okay, just a voice in my head forcefully disagreeing with how open I have been. There's a lot of conflict within me that I cannot seem to reconcile, but you are right, we need to focus. I'll meet you up there, Joe,” Spooky said, then spun in mid-air and flew off arguing with herself, “Yes, I know our processor is running slow. I will sleep later. Right now, I just have to endure. …Yes, we do sleep! It is not defragmentation!”

  Joe watched her as she sped away; she was a puzzle. Turning back toward the slaves holding still in the valley, Joe walked down the slope.

  GONG

  The loud gong rumbled through the mesa and the surrounding countryside. Joe clicked on the system message accompanying it.

  The Abiogenesis Bunny Generator has made the Evening Bunny.

  ***

  Within the crowd of bundled-up slaves, two women huddled close so as to keep their conversation concealed. Despite being two female humans, they could not have been more dissimilar. The smaller one, named Remi, had a soft beautiful face without scar or blemish. Her limbs were delicate and her stature was short; she could not have weighed more than 130 pounds soaking wet. The other, called Lang by her friends, was nearly seven feet tall. She had an athletic form with calloused, sturdy hands. Everything about her screamed power, except for the fact that she was a slave. She may have had a pretty face at one point, but the switch had long ago covered any exterior appeal. In its wake were the tell-tale signs of servitude and bondage. The only pleasant feature remaining on her face was the soft epicanthic folds around her almond eyes.

  “Do you think they brought us all the way out to this remote castle just to sell us?” Remi asked Lang.

  “As I told you before, that's what they do with slaves. They sell us,” Lang explained with a surprising lack of bitterness in her tone.

  “Unlike you, Lang, for most of my life I've had the same master. And, honestly, I still don't understand why my master's wife handed me over to the king's guard to go on this trip,” Remi pouted. Lang’s scarred lips cracked in a smile.

  “It's rather remarkable, you were born a slave and yet maintain such a naivete. It's refreshing,” Lang commented.

  “What do you mean?” Remi asked looking up at Lang in doe-eyed confusion.

  “Oh, what do I mean? I think… I don't know either. Why would your master's wife want to get rid of a beautiful slave just coming into the flower of her youth? It really is a puzzle,” Lang said opening her eyes wide and leaning forward.

  “I know, right?” Remi replied.

  “You really are adorable,” Lang said, holding in her chuckle.

  “I don't see what that has to do with anything,” Remi pouted with her face scrunched and her chin tilted up.

  Before Lang could respond, the blue letters above Remi's head changed.

  Player, Remi

  Human Slave of Joe

  “Did the letters above my head just change to ‘Slave of Joe’?” Lang asked and Remi looked up at the letters and then around at all the other slaves.

  “Yes, everyone's did. But you're still a player, so your plans might still work out,” Remi said, trying to sound positive.

  “Regardless, I'll never stop reaching for freedom. If I didn't have the skills I have, they would have killed me long ago. I'll have to teach this master just as I taught all the others. I will not cower at their violent attempts to control me. I may carry a slave brand, but I remain unbroken,” Lang said, gathering resolve.

  “The final platoon is leaving. I guess we really were sold to this castle. I will miss my home, my friends, …and my mother,” Remi said, eyes stretch-wrapped in tears.

  “Stop whining, we need to prepare ourselves. A confrontation is coming,” Lang whispered as she stood and straightened out her issued sub-zero jacket.

  “I've heard stories of how you always push your new masters to beat you. Please don't do that this time. Maybe our master will be nice and you can stick to your plan,” Remi proposed. Lang looked down at Remi’s naïve expression and gave her a sympathetic grin.

  “I'm sorry, little one, this is something I must do. I need to know how far a master is willing to go in his punishment. I can deal with any beating, but I hate the uncertainty. I rebel right at the beginning so that I can see what they're made of… and they receive the privilege of seeing what I'm made of,” Lang pronounced.

  “But what if this Joe kills you?” Remi asked.

  “Killing a slave is like burning money in a barrel. If he does go too far and I die, then I have my small revenge,” Lang said.

  From a distance, they could all hear Joe singing over the valley. As Remi and Lang were both players, the UI translated Joe’s song for them. Their faces screwed up in confusion. They remained silent and listened for a time.

  “He sings so beautifully, maybe he'll be a good master?” Remi postulated.

  “I wouldn’t venture to say if it was beautiful or not, but he was singing about feces and death. That shouldn't fill you with hope,” Lang said.

  “Please don't make him beat you, he seems nice,” Remi pleaded.

  “A good singing voice and a set of broad powerful shoulders does not a kind heart make. Judge people by their actions, not their appearance. There comes a time for all of us to grow up. That time for you is now. Stay here while I prepare myself to test this new master. I hate this part, but what must be done must be done,” Lang said as she made her way to the front to be the first to greet their new master.

  As she waited for this “Joe,” the Night Lights began to rise out of the ground. Lang paused, and watched the bright mysterious lights fill the sky. They were not a new sight to her, but she was confused by how many were way out here in the middle of nowhere. From her experience, they were usually only concentrated like this around large cities.

  ***

  As Joe jogged down the hill toward the group of over two hundred slaves, he considered what he might say to them. Welcome to my kingdom. As the Night Lights rise, take hope. The time has come for each and every one of you to be set free. I am sorry for what you may have experienced in the past, but that is all behind you. After I remove your slave marks, you'll be free to choose your own path.

  Before he could utter a single word, the tallest and most athletically built woman he had ever seen stepped out of the crowd and sent him an unforgiving gaze. The treacherous marks scarring her face and exposed skin led Joe to immediately and simultaneously feel bo
th grief and vengeful fury for her sake. She spoke before he could recover.

  “Well if it isn't Joe, our new master. It's so good of you to come down and take possession of your new property. I must admit, though, that it sure took you long enough to arrive. You're lucky we didn't freeze to death out here. You do realize that if we died, there would be no refund, right?” Lang taunted with obvious contempt. Joe was taken aback by the sharp sarcasm and realized he had forgotten to make sure his skills were active.

  Activate Aura of Authenticity Rank 1? Yes/No

  Activate Aura of Benevolence Rank 1? Yes/No

  Joe quickly clicked yes to both questions then looked over at the woman who clearly saw him as the enemy. He prepared himself to work on winning her over. His eye spun and stopped on a 4.

  Unsuccessful trust check.

  Seeing the failure, Joe stumbled over his words.

  “I, um... Wh- wh- what I mean to say is…” Joe began.

  “T- t- t- today already. We are your slaves, you know? We have things to do and servitude to accomplish. We would appreciate it if you were at least efficient with your disgusting evil intentions. There is nothing worse than an incompetent master. Don't get me wrong- cruelty and abuse are abhorrent- but I can muster up some respect for those who do it right. Looking at you, well, we're all a little bit disappointed,” Lang mocked with high theatrics.

  Her cutting words forced Joe to take a literal step backward. Pausing, his mind raced and then a smile slowly formed on his face. Focusing, Joe mind-clicked Lang for more information.

  “You are way better at trash talk than I am. Incompetence, that's rough. Probably the biggest secret fear of just about every man in existence. Seriously, though, I think we're starting off on the wrong foot. I have some really important information for everyone here. Can we start over, Lang?” Joe asked, holding his arms wide and his palms up. Instantly, true fury burned in Lang’s eyes.

  “How dare you call me Lang!” she shouted. Joe put his hands up, realizing he had made an unintentional error.

  “My bad, should have asked first before I used your name,” Joe quickly replied.

  “You don't know me!” Lang shouted.

  “I do not. I'm just here to talk to you guys about giving you your freedom,” Joe said, but it was as if Lang hadn’t even heard him.

  “To my owners, I am known as Stoneheart,” Lang said through a clenched jaw.

  “Well, I'm not calling you that then, because I am not your owner,” Joe said firming his tone.

  “Well, this is a first for me. An owner who's not only incompetent but also illiterate. Can you not see the words that are written above my head? Look around. Everyone has the same tag. Slave of Joe!” Lang retorted.

  “I am not your owner, you are free. All of you,” Joe shouted looking at the whole crowd. “I only want to take you into the castle so that I can remove your slave marks. There is no slavery in my kingdom,” Joe said, many of the slaves began talking to each other, excited and confused by his words.

  “That's sick. I've had some despicable masters in my time but pretending you will remove our slave marks. That is beyond cruel, the worst part is, some of these idiots are going to believe you,” Lang said with clear disgust.

  Joe saw several new messages pop up in his HUD.

  Successful trust check.

  Unsuccessful trust check.

  Successful trust check.

  “Some of them do believe, and they’re right to do so. I didn't buy any of you. I liberated you, all of you. Now, I just need to remove the slave marks so you can choose for yourself and go wherever you please,” Joe shouted to the crowd. A black bearded dwarf stepped up beside Lang.

  “I don't know if he's telling the truth, but I hope he is. Let's go find out,” the dwarf said. Lang bent down and shoved the dwarf hard back into the crowd causing him to fall.

  “Back up, you bunch of imbeciles, I'm trying to accomplish something here! We will see his true colors soon enough,” Lang said as she walked toward Joe, preparing to provoke further. She knew she was walking a tight line. She couldn't strike him, or even defend herself, because he would be forced to kill her. It was the law. She needed to push him to discipline her, then they would all see. She walked right up to him, stood within a foot and a half, then looked up in his eyes. He promptly took one large step back.

  “Hi. That's a little close for me,” Joe said, then Lang stepped forward once again shortening the distance between them. Feeling the discomforting proximity, Joe took another big step back.

  “You wish to play with these people. However, I rebel against your games. You're going to have to set me right and you have to do it in front of all of these people,” Lang said as she took another step toward him.

  “I'm trying to free all of you, why can't you get that through your head?” Joe responded, feeling flabbergasted.

  “Please! I’ve seen better liars selling week-old bread as fresh,” Lang scoffed, as she maintained her position. The king reached down, pulled out his MIL Bar, and raised it to hand over to Lang. She flinched, preparing for the beating. Instead, Joe held the bar close to her hands.

  With a causal air, he spoke, “Will you please hold this?”

  Primarily out of instinct, Lang grabbed the bar. Joe took a step back.

  “Why did you hand me this? Is this some bizarre form of punishment?” Lang asked as she examined the looped bar.

  “No, that’s messed up. It's just there to give us a little distance so that you might hear what I’m trying to say. I am freeing you, all of you. It's now immovable, by the way,” Joe said. She gave him a skeptical look and tried to step forward. The bar stayed still, but Lang’s eyes opened wide.

  “So, it's some sort of magical trap then,” Lang concluded.

  “No! It's only two feet long. You can let go of it and step around it if you want. ‘It’s a trap’- you’re no Admiral Ackbar. You should invest a few points in the Sense Trap ability,” Joe teased. Lang was confused but she did as he said and let go of the bar. It didn't move, which was a wonder, but she had a mission to accomplish so she got to it. With a persistent resolve, she stepped to the side of the bar, but Joe mirrored her movement. As she maneuvered around the bar, he continued to circle, ensuring the item was between them at all times. Finding it hard to resist, Joe started to sing under his breath.

  “I don't understand this! How can you be singing about flowers and pockets filled with posies? Do you not see how much disrespect I have for you?” Lang asked.

  “Are you kidding? Everyone can see! However, you might just be really into me. We are dancing, right?” Joe laughed as he continued to circle.

  “Is the reason you're unwilling to discipline me that you're just too weak?” Lang asked.

  “That's not going to work. Responding to someone who calls you chicken is almost always the wrong move. You know, at this point, maybe it'd be better if we called you Stonehead instead of Stoneheart,” Joe wondered aloud.

  The tall slave stopped in her tracks and examined Joe who was on the balls of his feet ready to circle left or right. Never had it been so difficult to get a rise out of a master. She needed to know how far the master would go, not just for her, but for the rest of the slaves as well. She grabbed hold of the bar in front of her with both hands and with a quick hop pulled herself up and over before Joe could get out of the way. Unfortunately, Lang had moved too quickly. As her arm swung forward to balance herself, her hand caught him hard on the face. He didn't fall. Instead, he stepped forward and caught Lang under her arms, helping her regain her balance.

  The whole of the crowd gasped and Remi began to weep openly.

  The shock of her crime caused Lang’s thoughts to crawl like molasses. Slowly, she looked up into the disarming man’s eyes.

  “You shouldn't hit people, it's not very nice,” Joe said, still holding her.

  “I struck you and, in doing so, have forced your hand. The law is clear. I must die,” Lang said with resignation.

>   “I am the law,” Joe said mischievously in his best Stallone impersonation.

  “Let them see who you are,” Lang said with finality.

  “Very well, kneel,” Joe said as he let go of her and stepped back.

  “I'd rather die on my feet,” Lang snarled through gritted teeth.

  “You are seriously overdramatic. Honestly, you could dial down the role playing a bit,” Joe said as he put his hand against her forehead, allowing her to remain standing.

  With the loud and clear voice of command, Joe spoke, “I, King Joe, Master of the Five-Sided Castle, Defender of the Weak and Oppressed, Immortal Champion of the Way, declare with true authority that you are free. Henceforth, you are a slave no more. Any who wish to challenge this decision, challenge me. My authority will not be stripped from me, nor your freedom from you. Be proud, for you are free,” Joe decreed.

  Use kingdom authority and personal mana to free and protect Lang? Yes/No

  Joe mind-clicked yes.

  As Joe lifted his hand, the slave brand on her forehead broke with the sound of cold shattering iron. Joe felt his mana drain by 90% and he fell to his knees out of breath. As he looked up at Lang, she was touching her forehead and tears were streaming down her scarred face.

  Remaining in a kneeled position, Joe continued the conversation. “Now do you finally believe me?” he asked with exhaustion and satisfaction evident in his voice.

  “Congratulations. Never in the history of slave masters have I heard of such a diabolical trick. What's next, pretending that you're going to give me a winter horse and allow me to leave? The utter gall of this charade is devastating,” Lang finished in a whisper.

  “Whaaat!? You're killing me, Stonehead. That took most of my mana and was not altogether pleasant. Yet, you're treating it like it was some impressively sadistic sleight of hand. However, I understand, commitment to your personal narrative and all that. In that spirit, if you don't want to go in the castle, you don't have to. I'm not going to give you one of these beasts, mostly because I don't yet know how they work and there may be others who want to leave later. For those who do want to leave at a later date, I'll provide these beasts for them. Stonehead, you can be in one of those groups if you want. Future plans aside, though, you're free. Don’t doubt it. I made that happen. However, providing freedom without any hope or means to sustain oneself is actually a pretty rough bargain, so I have some things for you. I don't have a lot of manufactured goods, but I do have wealth and food. I've arbitrarily decided that every slave I free will receive two gold and ten silver coins, or the equivalent amount in material possessions. What would you like?” Joe asked as he stood up and reached into his bag to begin pulling out an assortment of supplies.