War With Black Iris (Cyber Teen Project Book 2)

by D. B. Goodin

How’s the arm? Nigel texted.

  It still hurts, and the doc said to stay off of it another couple of weeks. But . . . Jet trailed off.

  What?! Don’t keep me in suspense!

  My dad thinks I should be talking to someone . . . a professional, I mean!

  I’m not a professional, but you can always talk to me.

  Thanks, Nige.

  Have you heard from Cassidy? Nigel asked.

  Yeah, she filled me in on the Black Iris attacks.

  What do you think?

  There’s something else going on. Both Black Iris and the Collective reported attacks. It doesn’t make sense, Jet said.

  How do you figure?

  Well, there is something fishy about all of it. No Dark Web hacking group would report anything.

  I suppose they don’t want to lose customers.

  Reputation is everything to any hacking group, especially on the Dark Web, where people are looking for any excuse to take over each other’s business, Jet said.

  Neither texted for a long time.

  When’s the last time you played the Machine? Jet asked.

  Must have been . . . just after the accident, Nigel said.

  Want to play? It might be the last time for a while.

  Nigel liked the sound of playing with Jet. It had been too long.

  Like an online date? Nigel texted.

  Nigel immediately wanted to take that back; he searched for a laughing face emoji to indicate it was a joke. Before he could react, though, he saw the familiar reply animation that taunted him.

  Yes, silly! I suppose it is, but you will have to settle for a virtual kiss.

  Nigel’s face muscles formed into a familiar position; he realized that he was smiling.

  Can you even play with your arm in the sling?

  It’s been hard, but I was able to reconfigure the controls. Now, I need to just think, and the game answers to my call.

  Seriously, is that a thing?

  No, silly. I’m just screwing with you, Jet said.

  Nigel forgot that she had access to the VR equipment, which was a vast improvement over his augmented reality (AR) setup. Anyone with VR glasses could experience the Colossal Machine the way the developers intended. The graphics were vastly superior to the AR version, but it required a more powerful computer. Nigel was satisfied with his AR setup for now, but it was always nice to dream. Going after a more powerful computer system had almost gotten him killed for his trouble; in the future, he would be thankful for the things he already had.

  Nigel entered the world of the Colossal Machine. He arrived in the same place he always did: his anteroom. It wasn’t as powerful as a microcosm, but it was all he could afford, and it was just large enough to stash some gear and supplies. He heard the familiar ping of several messages being delivered. It had been weeks since he’d logged into the game, and he wasn’t surprised when he saw messages from several of his classmates. He ignored most of them and tapped on Jet’s message, which read:

  Hey there, use this scroll to find me!

  Nigel used the scroll. He disappeared and then reappeared in midair, and he started falling. The ground was rapidly approaching. He did not want to die; this character had way too much stuff, and with the newly implemented death penalty, he would be royally screwed. He did have one magical item, however: a shield belt with a one-time use. He didn’t want to waste it since magical items for non-magic-users were rare. He was about to tap on it when he . . . stopped, just feet from the rock below.

  What happened—and why am I still alive?

  It took a moment for him to realize that Jet had cast a halt spell on him. He would be frozen in place for several seconds at least. The more powerful the mage, the longer a spell would last. Finally, he fell. But was still alive.

  Nigel surveyed the area as he got up. He could see the ruins of some sort of building. The land around those ruins was scorched. It looked like some kind of battle had taken place.

  What happened? Nigel typed.

  He used the text-input feature because his “accident” made it impossible to speak.

  “All gone. My microcosm is ruined,” Jet said.

  Jet was doing her best to keep her composure, but Nigel sensed that Jet was overwhelmed with emotion.

  What happened?

  “I was helping Pretzelverse with some voluntary bug hunting, like I usually do, and . . . this guy crashed into my microcosm. He started wrecking the place. I fought him off, then reported the incident,” Jet said.

  I’m sorry. I know how hard you worked on this.

  “What pisses me off is that guy was using an exploit code to manipulate the game. I was also having a difficult time fighting him, which rarely happens.”

  If you knew your microcosm was wrecked, then why did you bring me here?

  “It serves as a reminder of the war to come.” She paused. “Tomorrow’s another day. This may be the last time we have to play together for a while. We should do something fun. While we still have reliable internet access, anyway,”

  What do you have in mind?

  “I’m good with either the new or older content. A lot of people will probably be playing the new stuff, but I doubt it’s completely stable.”

  You tested the new game code. Was it that bad?

  “Pretzelverse released the new patch just before Christmas. A bold move, since I don’t think it worked. But I guess we will find out.”

  Jet opened a portal.

  “This will take us to one of the new cities,” Jet said.

  Nigel walked through the portal, and his vision blurred. Entering a mage portal was like entering a mirrored fun house: it was disorienting. Nigel stepped aside so Jet could get through. He surveyed the new room, which was illuminated by a torch and a couple of candles. He noticed a balcony and stepped outside.

  Wow, this is a fantastic view.

  From the looks of it, Nigel was in a tall mage tower. He could barely see the ground below. He looked around and couldn’t see any way out. Where is she? About a minute later, Jet emerged from the portal. It looked like she’d just come out of the heat of battle. Her robe was singed and bloody. A gash was noticeable on her forehead.

  What happened to you?

  “The Dark Denizens have been unleashed.”

  I thought the Dark Denizens only came out when large spells were cast, Nigel said.

  “Normally that is the case, but the world of the Colossal Machine has changed since the expansion. It appears that since Pretzelverse has allowed players to be Dark Denizens, things have changed. Considerably,” Jet said.

  Great. I should have been honing my skills instead of leveling classmates! Nigel thought.

  Are the players abusing the power of the Dark Denizens? he said to Jet.

  “At the very least, they are stretching the rules. Anyway, a Dark Denizen shouldn’t have been summoned by casting a portal, a level-two spell.”

  That wasn’t the only spell you cast. You cast a spell to slow my fall, Nigel said.

  “I still don’t think that should have summoned a Dark Denizen. The purpose of the Dark Denizen is to discourage the use of high-level spells, which were designed to be used sparingly,” Jet insisted.

  Okay, if that is the case, then some kind of exploit must have been used.

  “Yeah . . . I will review my bug bounty notes, then submit a bug report. If the player-based Dark Denizens are abusing the magic system, then that is a threat to the game’s balance system.”

  I want to check out the new city before the Dark Denizens screw everything up.

  Jet held out her virtual hand.

  “Shall we?”

  Nigel’s avatar took Jet’s hand. He saw a flash of light, and then they were atop a platform looking over the city. The design of Parousia was more modern than the previous version of the cities that appeared in the original game. The first cities were medieval, and rough around the edges, graphics-wise. This new version was innovative not only because it featured better gra
phics, but also because it added additional elements such as technology augmentation.

  Jet took Nigel on a VIP tour of Parousia, the newest city featured in the Colossal Machine expansion. Nigel hadn’t seen any of the new areas of the game because the expansion had been released with the latest patch on Christmas Eve, just days ago. Jet had a leg up, having been beta testing for months.

  “We walk from here. Using magic or fighting is not allowed in the city, except in the dueling pits,” Jet explained.

  Nigel liked the sound of that, because he usually couldn’t go more than a few feet in Strombach, the original fighter city, without being challenged to a duel.

  The city looks huge. Are we allowed to use mounts?

  “I’m afraid that walking is our only option here,” Jet said.

  Nigel followed Jet through the entrance of the city. The entrance resembled a modern office plaza with fountains, benches, and some vegetation. On the left, several small obsidian-colored buildings could be seen, the light seeming to dissipate as Nigel walked toward them.

  “Let’s go this way. I need to repair my equipment,” Jet said.

  Just beyond the plaza, a wide staircase led down to another level that seemed to be suspended in midair. It took about thirty seconds to walk down to the lower platform. Nigel noticed several walkways that led from various points when walking down the stairs; however, the entrances to those paths were blocked by massive boulders and other objects that all had the same sign that read “Under Construction.”

  The lighting dimmed as they descended the stairs toward the bottom platform. Several crafting, and repair stations were visible here. Jet headed toward an area of the platform that featured a large sewing machine and loom. She took off her robe and gave it to an old woman.

  “How much to repair?” Jet asked.

  The old woman gave the robe an appraising look.

  “A medium-sized diamond should suffice, my dear, but if you don’t have any diamonds, then a sum of four hundred gold pieces is required.”

  “Okay—just fix it, then.”

  “Give me a minute or two, dear,” the old woman said as she started appraising her damaged items.

  What a rip-off, Nigel said.

  The old woman shrugged.

  “My reputation with the Parousians is not high enough, so I have to pay triple the going rate,” Jet said.

  I haven’t seen any quest-givers since we arrived. How does one gain reputation with these people?

  “Parousian lore is mired deep in tzedakah. It is a Hebrew word that has several meanings, such as justice, righteousness, and charity. It is all part of the Parousians’ belief system,” Jet explained.

  The old lady handed the robe back to Jet.

  “All stats back to normal,” Jet said enthusiastically.

  What’s that? Nigel asked.

  Jet followed Nigel’s gaze to an object of fascination: a winged man riding atop a large dragon.

  “That’s not part of the city guard. Must be a player.”

  From this distance, the figure looked like a wasp was atop a flying lizard. Nigel looked at his in-game chat log, as several other players had also noticed the newcomer.

  “Come on, let’s find some cover,” Jet said.

  Nigel followed Jet back up the stairs, feeling the stamina drain from his character as he did so.

  She must be using her run ability, Nigel thought.

  The dragon swooped down, grabbed a couple of players, and then dropped them from high above. The newcomer started casting while atop the dragon, and several fireballs rained down over the heads of other players, who screamed as they burned. The dragon continued to grab new victims.

  “Definitely not normal in-game behavior,” Jet said.

  Jet darted toward the obsidian buildings: the only cover within reach. She tried to cast something, but it didn’t seem to work.

  “He’s cheating. My magical abilities don’t work here,” Jet said as she ran.

  Nigel felt something hot on his back, and he snatched a glance. A ball of flame was heading toward him. He used his dodge ability.

  Watch out! Nigel exclaimed.

  Jet barely avoided the fireball. They opened the first door they saw in one of the obsidian buildings and managed to jump inside just in time. Nigel looked back toward the door. The dragon was trying to get its head through.

  Trapped! Nigel thought.

  Flames engulfed the room.

  Nigel was disconnected from the game.

  “That bastard!” Jet said.

  What happened? Why am I logged out of the game?

  Jet was disconnected, and the login screen for the Colossal Machine seemed to mock her. She suspected it had to do with that guy riding on the dragon. Before she’d gotten disconnected, she’d caught a glimpse of the dragon rider. It was the same winged guy who had wrecked her microcosm. Jet’s phone buzzed. Nigel was texting her.

  Did you get disconnected from the game? Nigel asked.

  Yes. But the good news is that I know who the dragon rider is.

  Who?

  The asshole who destroyed my microcosm. I’m sending an exploit report now.

  Is there anything I can do to help?

  Review your in-game logs of the encounter. There might be additional clues we can analyze.

  I can’t log back in, Nigel texted.

  Yeah, the mega world server is down. Whatever that guy is doing is causing some serious stability issues with the game. The mega world server made it possible for players to logon to the game from anywhere in the world.

  Ellen entered Better Buy Computers to pick up a new power adapter for Nigel’s laptop. It had been fried during the last storm.

  Milford was near the coast; as a result, winter there was mild compared with the rest of the state.

  “Hey, Ellie,” said a familiar employee.

  “Good morning, Mr. Henry. I need a new power adapter for Nige. His got fried during last night’s storm.”

  “How’s Nigel holding up?”

  “He’s in good spirits, but I know his injury has taken its toll.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He can’t speak. He has to write everything down.”

  Mr. Henry gave Ellen a hard look.

  “My son . . .” Mr. Henry began. “I’m not sure if you know my son, but he has completed his residency at a medical research facility in Newport. He might know people who can help.”

  “The doctor said that Nigel will make a full recovery in time. Besides, finances are a little strained right now.”

  “My son is in the shop’s basement working on one of his projects. I know that his company is always looking for volunteers to test out new devices.”

  “I don’t know—”

  Mr. Henry cut Ellen off and pressed an ancient intercom button. “Hey, Dane, please come up here. Ellen Watson would like to speak with you.”

  A couple of minutes later, a tall, lanky kid appeared. He looked like a younger version of Mr. Henry.

  “Hello, Mrs. Watson.”

  Ellen knew Dane from Nigel’s school science camp. He was a few years older than Nigel. He had volunteered as a science camp counselor.

  “Your father tells me that you intern for a medical devices company,” Ellen said.

  “It’s not just any medical device company—it’s Meddix Enhancements. They make artificial limbs and other devices to help people who have suffered trauma to parts of their body.”

  “I think Dane might be able to help Nigel,” Mr. Henry said.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Dane asked.

  Mr. Henry brought Dane up to speed with the recent events.

  Dane gave his father a pained look. “What can I do to help?”

  “I don’t know that you can do anything,” Ellen said as a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Let me talk to my friend, Nelson. He’s in charge of a project that could help Nigel. I’ll be right back,” Dane said.

  Ellen nodded.

&
nbsp; Mr. Henry leaned in closer to Ellen so other customers wouldn’t hear him speak. “Did your lawyer get those charges against Nigel dropped?”

  “Julius said that the FBI knew they were in the wrong and to expect some sort of restitution after the start of the New Year,” she quietly replied.

  “I hope you got that in writing. That FBI agent should be arrested.”

  “I think he felt guilty about what happened. He gave me his car!”

  “He did what?” Henry looked at Ellen in disbelief. Henry had never heard of such a thing.

  Dane reentered the room.

  “Good news, Mrs. Watson. My friend said that the prototype that I have should work for Nigel.”

  “Prototype?”

  “Oh, I thought I showed it to you. My mistake.”

  Dane hurried out of the room.

  A few minutes later, Dane returned with something that resembled a choke collar with an oval mesh in its center. It was made of metal that was lined with leather so that the person wearing it would be more comfortable.

  “This is an experimental voice modulator that may help Nigel speak without stressing his vocal chords,” Dane explained as he put the collar in a box and then handed it to Ellen.

  “I don’t know.” Ellen examined it closely. There were exposed wires in some spots. “How do I show Nigel how to use it?”

  “It’s simple. Have him put it on with the oval in front, near his throat.”

  Dane took the collar out long enough to demonstrate its use before repacking it.

  “I will have Nigel try it. Thank you, Dane.”

  “Don’t mention it. But do you mind if I contact you in a week to see how it’s working?”

  “Not at all.”

  Ellen smiled.

  Mr. Henry put the collar and her purchase of the power adapter in a shopping bag and handed it to Ellen.

  “There is a storm moving in,” Mr. Henry said. “You should drive home as soon as you can. I’m going to be shutting down the store in a bit.”

  “I’m . . . going to try to beat the storm,” Ellen said as she left.

  Thirty minutes later

  Mr. Henry turned over the open sign to closed.

  “Mrs. Watson left her bag!” Dane said.

  Mr. Henry looked at the bag. “I would stop by to deliver it, but this storm is going to be a bad one.”