by Rachel Ford
“Exactly. Finally, someone else sees it. Thank you.”
They commiserated for a moment on the woes of being unable to express the full weight of their irritation. Then, the dwarf turned concerned eyes his way. “Seriously though, how you holding up, dude?”
Jack blinked. “Not…great, honestly.”
Migli nodded. “It’s got to be scary as heck.”
“Yeah. It is, actually.”
“I’m sorry. Really. If there was anything I could do, I’d do it.”
Jack sighed. “You do think they’ll get me out of here, right?”
“I do. Look, it’s Marshfield Studio. You’ve been playing our games for years, right?”
“Right.”
“So you know how it goes. They’re huge games, with expansive worlds to explore. They start out with a lot of bugs, even after beta testing. But – it might take until the next game is released – we catch and we fix them.”
“But I can’t wait until the next game comes out, Jordan.”
“I know…I was kidding. Just…trying to be funny. You know, lighten the mood?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking about it.”
Jack sighed. “No, it’s fine. Really. But you think they’ll figure out how to get me out of here?”
“I do. Your body’s doing okay. I mean, now that we have fluids and nutrients going to it.”
A thought occurred to him. “What about – you know, waste removal.”
Migli shivered. “Ugh. You don’t want details.”
Jack shivered too. “They’re not…well, how bad is it? I’m not going to like have holes in my body or anything, am I?”
“Nothing permanent.”
“Good God.”
“But – let me just say, I’m glad I don’t have a medical background. Because then they might try to stick that crap on me. And I’m sorry, ‘other duties as assigned’ or not, I did not sign up to be carting bags of urine around.”
Chapter Ten
“So…can you tell me what happened?”
“I already did,” Jordan said. “Your body went into a forced sleep. Just shut itself down, right in the middle of the game. I think we’re going to have to start making sure you actually sleep. You know, in real life.”
He shook his head and gestured at the red glow behind him. “No, I mean this. Is this part of the regular quest?”
Migli shook his head. “No. To be honest, I had a mini heart attack when I logged in and saw what happened. I thought maybe your brain went bananas or something.”
Jack frowned.
The dwarf kept talking. “But I watched the playback and dug around in the logs. It wasn’t you. I mean, it kind of was, but kind of wasn’t.
“It was kind of a joke, put in by one of the developers. Apparently, his team kept killing his birds. So he rigged them to blow sky high. He pulled the code out before pushing it to primetime, of course.
“Except, he missed one of the models – the bluebird.”
“So…did I totally hose the game?”
Jordan laughed. “No, surprisingly. You skipped a couple fights. You gained an insane amount of experience points, because the fire cooked so many baddies.”
“Really?” Jack frowned. “Usually I get some kind of…alert. You know, right in my thoughts. I didn’t get anything.”
The dwarf shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have. The kill radius was so colossal, it actually lagged the system out. It finished processing while you were out.
“But bring up your stats.”
Jack concentrated on his player stats, and his jaw dropped.
Level 55
Fire magic level 67
Water magic level 0
Air magic level 0
Earth magic level 0
Healing magic level 0
The rest of his stats remained unchanged, but he barely noticed. “Holy sunshine. Did I really jump fifty-four levels?”
Jordan laughed. “Yup. And your fire magic is insane too.”
“But my other magic is pitiful.”
“Yeah, but it’s all supposed to be nothing right now.”
He considered this, then nodded. “So, am I going to have to load? I mean, it does kind of stack the deck in my favor.”
“Do you want to load? If you do, we can.”
He considered again. Then, he grinned. “Actually, I’d like to keep it as is.”
“Then we’ll keep it as is.”
“You won’t get in trouble? I mean, assuming they are going to remove the explosive bird, that’s not really going to be a scenario that many people are going to start with, is it? So I’d just be wasting company time.”
Migli shrugged. “You know, I was given really clear instructions when I was assigned this position. They emphasized them a few times, actually. You know, because I’d rather be programming than babysitting.
“So I’m really clear on the parameters. And the parameters are, I’m not to interfere with the player. I’m only to assist at his request. So, maybe it’s not ideal. But that’s not my call to make.”
Jack smiled. Maybe he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe Jordan was alright after all. “Thanks. If I’m stuck here, I might as well have a little fun, right?”
“Sure. Although, you’re going to be the in-game equivalent of the guy who always skips leg day. You know, big arms, chicken legs.”
“Arms?” he snorted. “It’s not even an arm. It’s not even half an arm. It’s like if I weight trained a single muscle in my arm.”
Jordan laughed. “I guess you’ll be going as a fire mage?”
He snorted again. “Heck no. Warrior all the way.”
“A warrior? Dude, you’re at level one in two-handed weaponry and archery, and zero in everything else. You’re level sixty-seven in fire magic.”
He tutted. “Now what was it you were telling me about those parameters? If I want to play as a warrior who can’t fight for stuffing, then I’m going to play as a warrior who can’t fight for stuffing. Not stuffing. You know what I’m trying to say.”
“I do. And I won’t stop you. But I will absolutely tell you you’re a silly fellow.”
“A what?”
Jordan groaned. “D-u-m-b-a-s-s.”
Jack laughed. “Hey, question for you. Migli’s back, but is that just because you’re back, or…?”
“Oh, no, he found his way back to you. He’s your companion after all.”
“Companion? Chicken scratch, you mean. He left me to die.”
Migli shrugged. “Well, you did murder an innocent bird and almost kill him, so…”
After a few more minutes of conversation, in which he doublechecked that Jordan still hadn’t heard anything about any progress, he decided to get back to the game. The AI took control of Migli again, and the dwarf informed him that the ferry was only a little ways away. “There’s a town by the water. We’ll want to make sure we restock our supplies, and maybe check with the armorer. He may be able to improve your armor.”
“You’re a dwarf, Migli. Aren’t dwarves supposed to be great craftsmen? How come you can’t improve my armor?”
Migli didn’t have an answer for him, so they walked on together in silence. The moons cast more than enough light to see clearly. The countryside here was pretty, with wide open meadows and gentle, sloping hills. Now and then they crossed a burbling brook. Migli would stoop to take a long sip or to refill his canteen.
Jack realized that he didn’t actually have a canteen. He wondered why his character would need to eat, but not drink. The third time they crossed the water, he stopped and drank too. It tasted cool and sweet, like the best filtered water he remembered from his real life.
Before long he could see a great, black body of water against the horizon, and the outline of a little town in front of it. “This place have a name?”
“Watersfront.”
“Inventive.”
The last few miles ran long, and Jack started thinking about food again. It had been a good t
welve hours at least since his breakfast of cardboard-flavored soup. He didn’t have much gold left, especially if he was going to stop at an armorer.
He did have those chunks of Susmala meat, though. He could always find a hearth and cook them up. The upside was, it’d be free. The downside? Demon flesh. Of course, if he didn’t spring for salt, it’d probably taste like cardboard.
He wondered if that would be a good thing, or not.
They got a little nearer Watersfront. He could see candles blazing in windows, and lanterns bobbing along the side of carriages. Before long, he could hear the clatter of cartwheels on stone streets, and the cry of a busy town.
“I’m surprised there’s so much activity this late at night.”
“Everyone’s in an uproar, now that the great forest is in flames,” Migli said.
“Oh.” Jack laughed nervously. “Right. Forgot about that.”
“Many have been displaced from their homes, and others fear the fire will spread here.”
He was about to ask how the dwarf could possibly know that, when he remembered that Migli had run off and left him in the dust all those hours ago. “Unfortunate business, that.”
“Most unfortunate. A great many lives have been lost. It will take a generation or two before folks in these parts recover.”
He frowned. In principle, he loved the idea of smart AI, the kind that evolved with changing circumstances. The fact that Migli could address a situation that the developers had never anticipated or meant to occur was great. Except, all this talk of poor starving villagers was making him feel a little guilty. So he changed the subject, “Hey, anywhere good to eat here?”
“Just the tavern. And good is debatable.”
Jack glanced at the dwarf. “Is that sarcasm, Migli? I like it.”
Still, despite his companion’s unfavorable review, he headed straight for the tavern when they got into town. No matter how much he tried to psych himself up for demon steaks, he just couldn’t quite get there. So he figured he’d check out the tavern and check out the prices. That wasn’t a commitment to buy, and it didn’t hurt to look.
At least, that’s what he told himself. Then he stepped foot into the smoke-filled interior, and the smells and sounds of fresh meat roasting over an open fire hit him. His stomach growled. He glanced toward the hearth. A great slab of mutton cooked on a spit, and underneath its drippings, puddings sizzled away.
Jack was sold. He didn’t ask the harried tavern keeper how much it would be. He just told him, “As much meat and pudding as you can fit on a plate, my good man.”
He didn’t pay attention to the calculations that flitted through his thoughts as his purse lessened. He was too transfixed by the savory meat and flaky pudding. It was essentially a Yorkshire pudding, the way Yorkshire puddings were meant to be eaten – huge and billowing, full of flavor. Everything about it was perfect from the taste, to the texture, to the smell.
The mutton wasn’t quite as much a treat for all the senses. It had been roughly cut, and then smothered under a thick gravy that might just have looked more like something you’d find in a diaper than on a dinner plate.
Visually, it certainly didn’t carry the same appeal. But flavor-wise? Jack sighed with every bite. Literally, every bite. He hadn’t eaten anything this good in…well, forever.
Jack came from a long line of lousy cooks on both sides of his family. He was probably the first in the family to admit it; maybe the only one. On his mother’s side, they ate things like lutefisk, and swore up and down they loved it. On his father’s, they’d long ago abandoned traditional foods for American cuisine. Once in a while they’d find some Welsh something or other at the supermarket and make a big deal about it. But Jack figured, if his family liked Welsh food that much, they’d still be eating it. And they weren’t.
His dad’s greatest culinary accomplishment was an alright cheeseburger. His mom’s was a pretty solid baked macaroni and cheese. As for Jack? Well, he didn’t really have any culinary accomplishments. He could boil water and throw pasta in, and put some kind of premade sauce on it. And he could cook a steak that he didn’t hate, and even put together some tolerable sides.
But to capture the simple, hearty wealth of flavor in these foods? “God, I’ve never wanted to be a medieval peasant so much as right now,” he told Migli through a mouthful of food. “I mean, I know they didn’t really eat like this, at least not all the time. But a man can dream, can’t he?” He shoveled in a few more mouthfuls of food. “And they didn’t even live long enough to have to worry about heart disease. Lucky buzzards.”
He finished his plate while Migli went through a few tankards of ale and chatted up a pretty patron. “I can’t eat another bite,” he decided.
The publican stopped by to collect the plate while he sat in a kind of food coma. “How was your meal, Sir Knight?”
“Incredible.”
The other man nodded. “Would you be interested in dessert?”
Jack shook his head. “I can’t eat another thing.”
The publican nodded again. “Too bad. We have berry tarts – made with fresh berries, picked this afternoon.”
Jack groaned. “Fresh berries, you say?”
“The ripest, juiciest blackberries you’ll ever taste.”
He groaned again. “Fine. Bring me one.”
The other man grinned and deducted the coin. Then he came back with a plate and the most picture perfect, mouthwatering dessert Jack had ever seen. Somehow, it tasted even better than it looked. The pastry was flaky and buttery, and the filling was sweet and tart all at once.
“Yup, that does it: I need to build a time machine so I can go live as a medieval peasant. Or, I guess I could learn to cook.”
He’d said it to Migli, but as he glanced around, he realized the dwarf was nowhere to be seen. He frowned. Part of him figured he should probably go look for his companion. What if he’s been kidnapped? What if Iaxiabor’s minions took him?
Part of him urged him to wait until after dessert. It’s only a few more bites. He’s a tough guy. He’ll be fine.
He finished the last few bites. He didn’t even rush. A dessert like this one couldn’t be wasted with haste. So he savored every mouthful.
But then, when he’d washed the last down, he sighed and pushed to his feet. The publican appeared again, seemingly out of nowhere. “Did you enjoy your food, sir knight?”
“I did,” he said. Patting his stomach, he added, “Too much.”
“Ah. Well, you know, we have the finest food in Watersfront.”
The food had built up too much goodwill in Jack’s mind to indulge the part of him that felt it necessary to point out that this was the only eatery in the town, which made that not much of a recommendation. “Hey, have you seen my friend?” he said instead.
“Friend?”
“Little guy. About three and a half feet tall, big beard, questionable table manners.”
The publican wrinkled his nose. “You mean, the dwarf?”
“That’s right.”
“I saw him, alright. I had to ask him to leave.”
Jack blinked. “Why?”
“Same reason I threw him out earlier today.”
Jack blinked again. All of this was news to him. “Which was…?”
The other man glanced around, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “Surely you saw him too? Talking like that, and touching Elise like that?”
“Elise? You mean, the woman he was talking to?”
“So you did see.”
“Well yeah. I mean, it doesn’t make much sense to me. But she seemed pretty into him. You’re not going to kick him out for that, are you?”
The publican snorted. “Are you insane? Of course I will.”
“Geez.” Jack felt a little disappointed. He’d enjoyed his time here so far. He’d eaten like a king. Well, alright, like a very happy peasant. He hadn’t puked on anyone, and no one had tried to beat him up. So far, this was shaping up to be his best social exper
ience in the game. “That’s not cool, dude. It shouldn’t matter that he’s a dwarf. If two people love each other…”
The publican repeated the same derisive sound. “Love? Lust, more like.”
Jack grimaced at the idea but shook his discomfort away. He was trying to stand up for his sort of-friend, after all. “It doesn’t matter. Him being a dwarf doesn’t make it wrong.”
“No. But her being married does. And when she’s married to the mayor, and they’re carrying on like that in my place, well, that makes it particularly wrong. For me.”
“Ahh. Oh, yeah, that’s not cool. Married?”
“Five years today,” the other man nodded.
“Yeesh.” Jack grimaced again. “On their anniversary, too? Yeah, alright, I’m definitely on your side on this one.”
Chapter Eleven
Jack wandered Watersfront looking for the dwarf. He didn’t find him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. On the one hand, he didn’t want to go to war with the mayor of a tiny town that had nothing to do with his quest, much less on behalf of a cowardly dwarf who couldn’t keep it zipped. And even if Migli and the cheating wife escaped the mayor’s attention, he didn’t want to stumble on them in flagrante delicto.
Then again, he suspected he couldn’t progress without the dwarf. Not that he was much actual help, but the game had assigned him as a companion. So he’d probably find the ferryman wasn’t around, or he only worked with dwarves, or some other ham-fisted attempt by the developers to force him to wait.
So he went in search of a shop instead, and finding a quaint little building with a sign that read, “Dayton’s Wares, always open,” he detoured inside.
Dayton was a short, round man with cheerful features and a bright smile. “Welcome to Dayton’s Wares, always open.”
“Good evening, Dayton.”
“Oh, I’m not Dayton.”
Jack was nonplussed by that. “Oh…ah…okay.”
“Dayton’s my twin brother. I’m Daxton.”
“Ah. Well, nice to meet you, Daxton.”
“Well met, traveler. Now, what can I do for you?”
“I need to buy some supplies.”