by Nathan Lunn
7
Inside, the room was dark, but didn’t feel to Kye to be cramped or claustrophobic. Instead the darkness felt open and inviting. Of course, he had been here many times in the past and walking back in was all he needed to be reminded of the full extent of the room’s capabilities. As he accustomed to the space around him, doubt started to creep more incessantly from the back of his mind, spreading to his fingers, which now began to pick at the hem of his coat. The smell was clean; the air felt fresh and filtered – though, in what was presumably its intended plan, the cleaner air only served more oxygen to his head than he was used to, turning his deep breaths into longer drags and drawing him into a more lightheaded state with each inhalation. Still, Kye knew how to work the system to get the best possible outcome, and, as he walked to the spotlighted chair sat in the centre of the room, he began to take great panting breaths, accepting the elated state that he was being forced into. When he reached the chair, the light dimmed down and he was able to sit comfortably, eyes adjusted and mind already swimming. Almost as soon as Kye was settled, however, the voice that had beckoned him in returned. A man walked out from the shadows, giving Kye a familiar face to the voice he knew so well, causing an increasing shooting pain from behind his eyes with each step he took closer. Finally, as he stepped forward into the light, he spoke, voice as smooth as silk, “Hello Valued Customer.” His voice seemed to come from both in front of, and behind Kye at the same time. The man continued, “And welcome to the PseudoReality User Trial. We have taken the liberty of tapping directly to your commlink and are going to communicate and run the program through this.” Kye was uncomfortable with the invasion of his privacy, but decided to settle in, fingers waiting impatiently on his temple. “As such, your program’s functionality has been limited. If you wish to continue, or upgrade your possibilities, please purchase the complete PseduoReality machine from one of our helpful vendors outside.” After a short rundown of the side effects, all of which Kye was familiar with, the program kicked into action.
***
The black space around him instantly transformed, as his vision was highjacked by the program. A room materialised around him, the chair he was sitting on changing to a soft leather one, wooden floorboards rising up under his feet, and an ordered desk unfolding in front of his eyes. Kye rubbed at his eyebrows, still not used to the feeling despite having felt the bootup procedure multiple times. Various sounds started to pour into his ears, a small fountain trickled in the corner of the room, a light wind blew in with the sunlight past the beige curtains, and he could hear delicate tweets coming from birds perched in the trees outside. Kye, though feeling tight still, was certainly in a more tranquil state. Behind the desk, reality warped as a chair raised from the floor, and further as an individual rose from the chair. Their blank head transformed, features appearing and moving until they resembled a face. It began speaking, the same voice as before, discussing the options he was able to trial.
“We provide almost unlimited possibilities when you buy our console, but for this trial we have decided to give you a few different choices, that should serve to adequately display the ranges of product we provide.” A square was scored out of the wall behind him, then filled with promotional material as the man continued to talk. “For those with a strong need for adventure – we provide the Arthur Stronghold Package – run amok through the Amazon, fly through the scorching Sahara, swim through the deepest depths of the ocean, all whilst battling off trivial tribesmen and collecting ancient artefacts.” Kye tapped his temple, uninterested so far, and the man froze, resetting, then continuing his speech, moving onto a different genre. “For those more interested in the criminal underworld, we offer the Meyer Lansky Package, complete with mobsters, gangsters and crooked cops to keep yourself entertained.” Kye tapped once more, deciding the preview he had seen was all he needed to choose. “If you’re interested in releasing the animal, we offer the Augustus Caesar package. Fight your way through hordes of enemies in high-intensity, dramatic and bloodshedding gladiatorial combat.” Kye pondered for a moment, before deciding he needed to calm down in a more relaxed environment – he was not looking for another fight and his history with the Caesar package was difficult. He tapped once more, and the man reset with the display. "Looking to join our proud forces out west? Have a look through one of our top stations in the Drill Sergeant Package, and experience the bonding of flesh and metal in–" Kye cut off immediately, uninterested in the propoganda they were spewing. “Finally, for those looking to lie back, ignore the stresses of work and everyday life, and catch up on some serious sleeping time, we offer the Lin Jung Package. In our very own bathouse and spa, massaged by the masses and loved by many, you will find the meaning of inner peace.” Kye seemed happy, and waited for the option to select to come up, intent on choosing the relaxed choice. “Are you happy with this option? Please select, if so.” Kye moved his hand to his head, and selected a confirmation. The man smoothly stood, transitioning as the office began to transform.
He spoke: “Thank you for choosing the Lin Jung Package, valued customer. We would like to remind you, to give a warm thanks, and a generous tip, to our founders and contributors, the Croft Family.” The screen changed to a picture of the Crofts, all seven standing in a line, their picturesque mansion in the foreground. All of Kye’s muscles tightened, as his rage returned in full force. Seeing his tormentors standing there, smug smiles on their faces, he was more than ready for revenge, to avenge, for something, anything that could make the Croft’s pay for what they did. Senses were usually heightened when a user was under PseudoReality, and the trial was no different. With everything dialled up to eleven, he was well aware he was overreacting, but he didn’t care. The office around him finished dissolving, and as the darkness seeped into his vision, it too seeped into his brain, clouding his plans against his better judgement. As the chair fell into a table, he lay back, reminded of his arm, which he looked to, seeing it was back to its normal shade. A cloud-free sky started to swirl around, spreading out above his head, before the environment and buildings folded into existence. A cloth canopy shaded his eyes from above and his sides, supported by four chipped wooden poles at each end of the table. It was a light material, so he could make out a few shadowy figures moving around the gazebo. As the curtain to his left was pulled back, he saw the bleached sands and rolling teal seas further behind them – an idyllic landscape, bare and quiet. Two muscled post-asian men walked over to him, and started the massage with his legs, whilst another, an asian woman, walked up behind him and started to talk to him.
“Hello Valued Customer, welcome to the Lin Jung Package. And how are you today?”
Teeth gritted, Kye tried to bring his rage down, answering as calmly as possible, “Fine thank you. Just the massage please. No talking.” The woman nodded, continuing to soothe his shoulders as she decided to talk despite having agreed not to just seconds earlier.
“We have detected abnormal levels of oxycotin running through your bloodstream. This usually indicates higher levels of anger; would you like us to do anything to calm you down?”
Irritated, Kye decided to choose an option that would best cool him down, deciding to say, “Just play some music. Something light.” Kye didn’t feel any more relaxed, and the men were still rubbing him down with increased vigour, which just served to rile him up more. The woman nodded, as the music came on. The sounds of the light viola appeared from no recognisable source, seemingly playing directly into Kye’s ear. The woman spoke again, and Kye grew more irritated, trying to focus on the music, as the men began to pound relentlessly on his legs.
“These lovely string sounds you hear, are provided by the multi-faceted and incredibly talented Ellie Croft. Once again, save your thanks for the Croft Administering Aid Foundation, and even more so to the Croft family themselves. Don't forget to tip and rate your servers!”
Kye snapped, standing up off the table, and pushing the men away from his legs. Too many mentions of the Cro
fts had tested his patience. His vision shattered as the men fell, and for a moment he was back in the dark room, alone. Then, almost as soon as it had disappeared, it was back, and the men were standing in their previous positions, the woman was still standing at the head of the table. Kye, who was now stood by the side of the table, tore the closest curtain down and wrapped it around the woman, who stood there, motionless. Spinning her around, he kicked her out of the canopy, watching as she fell to the sand and started to roll away. He took a few deep breaths, the high-pitched whistle busy stabbing into his brain disappearing, as the ill-calming viola returned. The machine, still making all efforts to relax him, had started to play it again; Kye could faintly hear the woman talking again from down the beach, still wrapped in her own funeral shawl. Kye was done with listening by now though, running across the table to the two men at the bottom. The PseduoReality machine adapted, attempting a quick recalculation, and changing for the circumstances of the user as they did, noting the persistent elevated heartbeat, and dispersal of Oxycotin. As Kye took his first swing, the men vanished with the atmosphere around him, instantly morphing into a Roman amphitheatre as he found his footing. The newly wide open space threw him off guard, as he quickly spun around, taking it all in.
The bleached sand had remained, though this time it was scattered all around him in a large oval, the edges of which connected to high yellow stone walls, punctuated every few metres by a thick wooden gate with the crossed design of a garden trellis. They rose for a few storeys, before they reached the boundary of the audience, who went back nearly 50 rows, all full with cheering men, women and children. They were dressed in thin tunics, and were waving makeshift flags, eager for the fight to start. Kye saw the announcer step forward, and the Caesar behind him raise a glass, as he began to speak, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
“Ladies and Gentleman of Rome! Welcome, to the fight of the century, nay, the fight… of the millennia! Watch our valiant hero take on hordes of Gallic and Germanic scum, as he battles for both glory and country!” Unbeknownst to Kye, the dark room was steadily filling with an invisible substance – Aggressor Gas – amping up his anger and versatility. He started to yell, bashing into his chest as the crowd threw him down weapons and tools to aid his fighting. Armour materialised across his body, a chestplate and greaves, along with a helmet, which Kye felt only helped to impair his vision. He threw it to his side immediately, picking up the two tools nearest to him (a broad, flat sword and sharp square shield) as the gates were opened, and all hell broke loose.
Sprinting out into the amphitheatre – fully naked save for crude, battered iron helmets, and thin silver swords long stained dark with older dried blood – were hundreds of scores of Gallic and Germanic warriors, tribesmen, and even the occasional unaware farmer included in the mix. Kye didn’t feel worried, in fact he felt great, more great than he had when he had first landed into the arena. He was ready to fight, ready to get some of the anger out of his system, and the PseduoReality was providing a perfect place for him to do it in. He plunged into battle, starting to forget why he had even bothered to quit using all those years ago, deciding as soon as he was out he would buy another machine and get back to using it again – only at a more stunted pace so he wouldn’t get addicted once more, of course. All of the stress and guilt he had felt when he entered the black room was rapidly fading as he hacked and slashed at any oncoming enemies. The arena was wide, and his paths were numerous as he moved through the swathes of badly programmed and predictable NPCs, quick to dispatch anyone who got even a glancing shot against his sword or armour. Sidestepping an attack from a squat and thin man holding a pitchfork, he brought his blade down, slicing through his muscles and into bone. The man fell to the ground screaming and clutching his wounded arm, as Kye spun back around and picked up a spear impaled in the sand. Digging it out, he flung the sand that was brought up with it into the face of an oncoming brute, who cursed in latin, before taking a wildly uncoordinated slice at Kye with his own sword. Kye stepped back, and stabbed his spear into the man’s side, before pulling it back out and throwing it at the mass of enemies who were grouping up behind him. He then grabbed the man with his hands, pushing him back into the sand and running up to his side, punching another in the face as he caught up, programmed too slow to react. With a quick pull, the man’s helmet was off and in his hands, used to slap the man across the face until the sand around him was soaked in red, and Kye's hands were slick and slipping. He smiled, baring his teeth at the crowd, who cheered even louder, throwing down laurels and praises to Kye, who was now busy kicking in glee. He heard a shout, looking over to the gate, which had now opened to reveal a bare chested man, coated in sweat and oil, walking with purpose towards him, smoke and fire pouring out of the open space. The crowds of enemies parted in his way, weapons by their sides as he breezed past; at almost twice of everyone’s heights he towered over them, casting shadows on their awed faces as he continued to call out to Kye, repeatedly shouting, “Challenger! Come and meet your maker!”
Kye was delighted at the extra challenge, and, pulling out a dagger from the eye of a nearby corpse, he began to walk towards the man. The crowd of enemies had stopped their attacks on him, and was similarly parting with awe, clapping him on the back in a mockery of camraderie, some still sporting wounds he had given them not two minutes ago. They were forming a circle now, taking on the role of the audience in the stalls, as a space was cleared, and Kye and the man finally met. The man spoke, chastisingly.
“You expect to beat me with that tiny thing? My sword is formed from the bones of the men I have slain, forged in the fires of the houses I have burned and cooled in the blood of empires, that only, I alone, have toppled.” He pulled out a weapon of his own, a large but completely sharp blade, so thickly covered in blood that it looked to be bright red – as the edges caught the light the gold underneath shined, mirroring the numerous medallions hanging loosely from his woven belt. Kye sniffed, snarled and spat on the floor; the man’s smell was horrifically pungent, and now that he was close enough, he was able to take in the full scent. Sweat and pieces of dried meat dripped from his thick brown beard, falling down only to become immediately caught in the shaggy, stained sheepskin wrapped around his waist. His linen footwraps were coated in some sort of wet mud, and there was so much so deep under his uncut toenails that they looked to be completely brown. Kye, looking at his own body, clean and toned, smirked, stared directly at the man, and spoke with a wink, “At least I’m not overcompensating.” He held up his pinky finger, dangling it right in front of the man, whose nostrils flared and eyebrows raised. Enraged, he threw his arm up, slicing with his sword in a large arc. Kye’s arm jerked back, as the blade breezed past where his little finger had just been, moments before. With a yell that matched the roaring crowd, Kye entered into combat.
Taking advantage of the starting swing missing, Kye leaned in and nicked the now off-balance man on the inside of his thigh, darting back before he could grab with his swinging fist. The cut wasn’t too deep and only served to irritate the man more, which was exactly Kye’s plan. In the same vein of idea, he waited for the man to throw his second carving strike – a low one aimed directly at Kye’s ankles – before he jumped over the top, landing and rolling directly towards the man’s now-open and unprotected legs. He nicked the other thigh, a deeper cut this time, before scrambling between his legs, ending up directly behind him. He was slow to turn around, and this gave Kye time to slice an arc of his own, flinging his arm up in a strong and purposeful bend – the man curved his back, letting out a deep bellow as Kye ran off into the crowd, proclaiming as he charged forward, “You’ll pay for that, Challenger!” Any who didn’t manage to scramble out of his way were either shoved to the side forcefully, or trampled under his pounding feet. His height helped him to identify where Kye had scampered off to, instantly noticing the bare, helmetless head in the throng of impatient spectators. Charging straight to him, he grabbed his head with his spare hand, hol
ding him up to his eye level with a confident, “Got you! Huh?” His attitude quickly changed as he became aware that the man in his grip was not Kye, instead a frightened spectator who was still keeping his head down, squirming in his palm. The man scrunched his hand into a fist, crushing the spectator’s head instantly, throwing him to the ground and wiping his remains across his beard and lips. Kye, who was hidden behind the man, pulled off the stolen helmet and threw it towards the giant’s leg. It was a good shot, flying true and striking him on his fresh cut, crippling him to one knee as he bent over, yelling once more. Kye took the opportunity to run up his back, scrabbling through his long locks as best as he could – once he reached the man’s head he wrapped his legs around his neck, holding on tight as he bucked and shook, stabbing down onto his exposed shoulders as often as was possible. As Kye plunged a final stab into the man’s upper arm, forcing him to drop his blood-drenched sword to the floor with a clatter, the man finally caught the side of Kye's breastplate with his massive fingers, ripping him off his shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. He chuckled through gritted teeth as Kye started to struggle, spitting out curses and throwing out useless punches that hit nothing but the air. It felt as if his chest was being pressured by some sort of compactor, and the damage seemed to be all too real. The man began to gloat as the crowd ramped up.
“You fight well, like a dirty tricking rat, a sneak, but well. Unfortunately for you, little man, every rat has to be caught eventually.” He pulled back his fist, striking Kye across the face with the force of a truck, the crowd ecstatic. As he pulled a dazed, but conscious, Kye in close to his face, he began to whisper, “Rats are the scum of our cities. It’s my job to root vermin like you out, a job which I take great pleasure in doing, and trust me, I will enjoy killing you–” he sputtered, stopping short in his victory speech. Blood started to dribble down from the corner of his mouth, lost in the congealing remains of the spectator, as he coughed, spraying red in the air and over Kye’s face. Not bothering to wipe it off, Kye smiled a bloody grin, twisting the dagger he had lodged into the giant’s neck as he fell back to the ground with a great crash. The crowd exploded. Now, standing triumphant over him, he leaned over, closer to his face. Grabbing his beard, he pulled his head up, drawing his other arm back and striking the man across his cheek. Kye did it again, and again, and again, repeating his punches until the man’s face matched his mouth, not able to stop himself in his blood craze. The crowd started to fade out of his peripherals, as the world collapsed around him, inky blackness diluting his sight as it filled his vision, until all that was left was a single chair in the middle of the room again. His last punch landed on an empty floor. Shaking and heaving, Kye stood and walked to the door.