I thanked Queen Fangora one last time for allowing me to speak with her and used my newly acquired teleportation spell to disappear from the mountainside and reappear a few miles from the fight scene where I could relax and make my way back home.
Diagnosis
I had gone through so many incarnations since I’d first entered the SRU. I started out a player eager to play a game, became a protector of Evanasia, made friends, lost friends, became an Avenger and a force to be reckoned with, and now I'd become a god. The White Goddess to be exact.
My fight with the dragons wasn't as private as I'd thought. Players and Evanasians alike had witnessed my battle, some from Dragon's Shadow and others who were traveling in the area. From their perspective, they'd witnessed a battle of epic proportions where a single player had fought off a horde of dragons, managed to kill one amidst the fight, and successfully made her escape. It was a feat unheard of that would never be duplicated.
Add that to the rest of my reputation and the progression from the White Avenger to the White Goddess seemed inevitable. I had become a symbol of reverence amongst the citizens of Evanasia and a symbol of fear and retribution to many players. Every player wanted to either be me, kill me, or both.
My new home had become my only place of sanctuary on Evanasia and I spent more and more time there each day. I did take Aurora up on her offer and traveled to Carnet, the factory planet, to get the supplies needed to build the duplication machine. It took a week to build the machine, which was large enough to duplicate anything as wide as a car. I created two of every part for the machine and once the first machine was built, I used it to duplicate the remaining parts so that I could build more machines in record time.
There was no limit to how long the object could be since I built the machine with a conveyer belt that the item could be fed through slowly. Once the item was fully scanned, it was then stored in the machine's database until the next item was scanned. I was so happy when the machine was finished. Now I could stock pile all of the items I'd ever created through my craftsman skills in only a few hours.
I even ended up purchasing a small moon that was in an uninhabited solar system and building a complete storage system on it with multiple storage facilities, each one with its own duplication machine. The facilities and my home were connected by a teleportation pad system that I'd also purchased on Carnet. I could set the authorized users so that only I could use the pads.
I built an enchanted pillar which I then duplicated using my new machines. I ended up with five hundred pillars that I placed all over the surface of my little moon. The pillars created a magical barrier that prevented anyone or anything from entering or exiting the moon. The only access to the moon was my teleportation pads and only I was authorized to use them. This made my moon the most secure storage facility in the SRU.
Merissa came by frequently to check on me after her store closed, using the same teleportation system I'd picked up on Carnet. I'd purchased one additional pad that I had placed in her shop. I authorized her to use the pads that transported from her shop to my home and back, but not the ones to my storage facilities. It's not like I didn't trust her, but I didn't want anyone to know about my storage facilities as secrecy was part of what made them secure.
I'm sure Merissa training me and spending time with me was meant to be a distraction. It was a welcomed one. Merissa taught me everything she knew about potion and poison-making. I was even able to use the skills she’d taught me and Bartholomew’s body parts to create a few unheard-of potions and poisons.
Once I'd built up a large stock of a variety of items, I purchased a plot of land on Evanasia which I placed a six-story shopping mall on. The mall sold my own designer clothing line, armor, weapons, jewelry, spells, and miscellaneous items which were all custom made by me. I also had a potion section in the mall that sold the few original concoctions I’d created and an entire line made by Merissa. Since people from all over Evanasia and the other fantasy worlds would come to shop at my mall, it gave Merissa a larger customer base. All profits from her line went to her and since she trusted me to keep track of her profits, I snuck in some of my profits without her knowing. It wasn’t enough to pay her back for all she’d done for me, but it was a good start.
I sold regular, magical, and enchanted items, but I stayed away from selling commonplace items. I figured that people who wanted commonplace items could get them at any town and didn't need to shop at my store.
When I wasn't at home avoiding the masses of people or checking on my store, which was being run by NPC robots Aurora provided for me, I continued to perform my duties as an Avenger and protector, even with a heavy heart. I continued to avoid towns as I hated the gossip that spread about me whenever I was around, but it was outside of towns that people needed help. I made myself journey at random throughout Evanasia, always keeping an eye out for people in need.
My heart had been shaken by all that had happened to me. I was still mourning Bartholomew's death. Now that I'd completed my promise with him, the pain of his departure was more violent than ever. My heart was caught in the eye of a hurricane. I had nothing to cling to and felt like I was being thrown violently against the tides. Every day the truth hit me a little harder, Bartholomew was truly and completely gone.
Tears would fall at random times, but mostly when I was alone. I spent a lot of time with Zephyra to ease the emptiness. She was a constant companion and we provided one another with much needed emotional support. It would take time for both of us to overcome losing Bartholomew, but I knew that we would be able to get through this together.
Meanwhile, on Earth, things were taking a turn for the worse. My headaches were getting more intense and happening almost constantly. The pain was severe enough that my only escape was in the SRU where I couldn't feel the headaches. Today, I had a date with my doctor. My six-month checkup was upon me.
I stepped into the office and didn't make it past telling Dr. Lewis my symptoms before I was rushed to the imaging chamber for a CT scan. That worried me. My past appointments had been more conversational, with Dr. Lewis telling me the CT scan was just for monitoring purposes.
The chamber felt smaller than normal as I laid myself upon the hard table that had a small, stiff pillow on it to pretend that the chamber might actually be comfortable. Perhaps it was my nerves, but I felt like my head was being forced into a tin can. I was back in the office thirty minutes later, unable to sit still, pacing the room as I awaited my doctor's results.
The doctor came in ten minutes later with a somber expression. The expression was enough to tell me it wasn't good. His words only confirmed my dread.
Dr. Lewis had been my neurologist since I'd begun having my headaches as a teenager. He was now fifty years old and I'd watched him change from a handsome and eager young neurologist and neurosurgeon to a man who seemed defeated. Age hadn't been kind to him. He was no longer able to perform surgery due to his arthritis and was kept on staff solely for his analytical experience and medical expertise.
Many of the patients he saw now were seen only for neurological problems that could be taken care of through medication and physical therapy without surgery. He was often called in for consultations with younger doctors when they had questions, but he was now more of an instructor than a physician.
“Ms. Hampton,” Dr. Lewis gestured for me to sit. Once I was seated, he continued, “The results aren't good. You have a massive, malignant tumor pressing on your brain. It grew too fast and is located too deep within the brain, so it won't be possible to operate on it. We won't be able to use radiation treatment either due to the location of the tumor. It is buried too deep in the brain for us to do radiation therapy without killing healthy parts of your brain which may cause you to become paralyzed or permanently comatose.
“We could try chemotherapy, but the cancer has spread to such a large area of the brain that the odds of chemo being successful are
low, about one in fifty I’d estimate.”
The thing he'd worried about since I was a teenager had now come to pass. I had a brain tumor and it wasn't good. Six months ago, there had been nothing there, now I had a malignant tumor buried too deep in my brain for surgery, and too large for chemotherapy or any other treatment to be effective.
Dr. Lewis had explained to me at almost every appointment I’d had for years that I'd been at risk for either brain cancer or a brain aneurism since I was a teen due to my chronic headaches. Yet, he had never suspected that I would develop such a fast-growing tumor. I should have come in sooner when my headaches had gotten worse, but I was so used to having headaches, and I'd had so much stress in my life recently, that I didn't even consider cancer. Now I was paying the price.
“Why did this happen so quickly? I was fine six months ago!”
I was beginning to lose the little composure I still had. I could feel my body shaking violently as the fear gripped me. My teeth began chattering as if I were standing naked in a blizzard. I was still young and was just starting a new life and a new job. How could this happen now?
“Malignant tumors always spread quickly, but this is the first time I've seen one spread this fast in all my years as a neurologist. Unfortunately, even with all the research doctors and scientists are doing we still don't know nearly as much about cancer as we would like. That's why research is so important. Without answers, we aren't able to do much more than treat the symptoms and hope.”
Dr. Lewis sat down next to me and cupped my hand in both of his. The contact helped to lessen my shaking to small tremors. Eventually the shaking stopped, but goose bumps remained.
“I've been spending a lot of time in the SRU lately,” I admitted. “Could that have caused the cancer or caused it to progress faster than normal?”
Dr. Lewis shook his head and responded, “I was one of the specialists that examined the SRU before it became mainstream. We did the most thorough tests we could for years before we gave SimTech the okay to open the SRU to the public. In all those years, not a single test subject had any health problems. The SRU-visor works the same way that electrical signals work in the brain. There are no side effects to its use.
“I know you want answers. It's always easier to accept tragedy when we know what caused it, but some things just happen, and we can't explain why.”
“How long do I have?” I took a deep breath, resigning myself to an early death.
“Without treatment, about two months. Maybe three. Chemotherapy might extend your life by a few more months if it isn't successful. If we can get you into remission, then you'll have a lot longer to live.”
“But the odds of that are ten percent? Maybe even less? I can't do it.” I thought about all I'd read about cancer and treatment and the side effects of chemotherapy. “I won't put all those chemicals into my body with such a low success rate. I don't want to spend what might be the last few months of my life stuck in a bed vomiting.”
I'd made my decision and I was sticking to it. Dr. Lewis prescribed me some medication to help alleviate the pain and I made my way back to Headquarters. Now I just had to break the news to my boss.
I set up an appointment to see Mr. Evermoss for the next day, went back to my room, and submerged myself in the SRU. At least in Evanasia I didn't have to worry about the pain my cancer was causing. The signals from my brain were intercepted by the SRU-visor, making the only pain I felt the in-game pain of combat and the emotional pain that tormented me.
I wasn't sure what to do about my situation, but I knew that I couldn't keep my friends in the dark. I traveled to Merissa's and summoned Zephyra, explaining my situation to both of them. I would have called Aurora too, but I knew she could hear everything I was saying even if she wasn't present. The fewer people I had in the room, the easier it would be to say what I needed.
I was sobbing uncontrollably by the end and both of them were holding me tightly, trying to stop my emotional rollercoaster.
Once I'd finally calmed down, I decided it was time for me to go visit the elves and also visit Queen Isabelle. They had been my companions and done so much for me in this world, it wouldn't be right to leave them ignorant. I stood up to leave, but was interrupted by the rainbow light appearing in the door.
Aurora stood in front of me, her face distressed. Without speaking, she embraced me warmly. While still holding me, she whispered into my ear, “It will all be okay, Valkyrie. You can talk to the elves and dwarves later. I told Dad about your situation as soon as I found out and he thinks he may be able to help. He has freed up his schedule and moved your appointment up to right now. It's time to go.”
She initiated a forced log-out and I found myself back in my bed. I was shocked that she would tell Mr. Evermoss something so personal without my permission, but the shock faded when I put myself in her shoes.
Mr. Evermoss was like her father. What would I have done if I'd just heard some distressing news about a close friend? I would have gone to my parents, if they were still alive, and sought comfort and wisdom. Her actions were justified, and I couldn't hold that against her. Besides, I was curious. What could my boss do to help that the doctors couldn't?
I stepped out of my house to make the trek to my boss's office, but found a vehicle waiting to pick me up. The driver was either a doctor or a scientist. He was dressed in a white lab coat and had a kindly, generic face.
He opened the passenger door for me and we were off. He didn't take me to the CEO's administration building, but to a research facility that doubled as a medical facility. One half of the building was medical research, the other was where employees could bring their families for primary medical care.
Inside the building was like being in a hospital. The walls were bland and the rooms barren except for medical beds and examination tables. It was like walking through a maze. My escort, who still hadn't introduced himself, or even spoken for that matter, led me through a set of double doors with the words PPC Research Center above them.
Inside the room were a few dozen hospital beds. Most were empty, but eight contained terminal patients. They had IV bags attached to their arms and SRU-visors encasing their heads. There were nurses monitoring their conditions and scientists monitoring computer screens next to their beds. The scientist who brought me here gestured for me to sit in the chair at the other end of the room and spoke for the first time.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Hampton. Mr. Evermoss should be here shortly.”
“That won't be necessary. I'm here.”
Roland Evermoss walked through the doors behind me. His smile was kindly. His eyes sad. He, like so many others since I'd discovered my cancer, didn't bother with formal greetings. He wrapped me in his arms warmly for a moment and when he released me, I saw a single tear fall from his cheek.
“I am so sorry, Lisa.” It was the first time he'd called me by my first name. “I know this can be scary and we will do anything we can to help you through your hardships. Aurora already told me that you've declined treatment. Let us skip all of that discussion as I don't want to dredge up painful memories. I'm here to offer help.”
Roland directed me toward one of the beds with a patient on it. We went around the bed toward the scientist staring at the computer screen. What I’d mistaken for a monitor the size of a big screen TV was actually multiple monitors connected together. One of the monitors showed a third person view of a game character from the SRU. Another contained programming code constantly scrolling upward as more script took its place. The rest contained diagrams of a human brain with different sections lighting up.
“This is our latest research into the potential of the SRU,” Roland explained. “What you are looking at are the medical applications that the SRU provides. As you already know, the SRU-visor intercepts the signals that travel from the brain to the body so that while in the SRU the body cannot move, and the user cannot feel any
thing outside of the SRU.
“Normally, the SRU-visors come with safety monitoring equipment which monitors the atmosphere for temperature increases and decreases, smoke and harmful gases, and the body's status. In the event that the body moves, such as someone coming in and moving the body, the SRU-visor will remove you immediately from the SRU to prevent safety hazards such as falling down the stairs.
“Once the system removes you from the SRU it continues to monitor the situation through a camera situated in the center of the visors. This is monitored by Aurora so that if someone has broken into your home...whether he be thief, rapist, or murderer, or if your home is on fire, et cetera, she will contact the proper authorities to assist you.
“The people inside this ward do not have those features activated because the building, and this ward itself, are constantly being monitored by our security cameras which are monitored twenty-four seven by security personnel. The other reason the features aren't active is because these people are all terminally ill and have to be moved often for their individual treatment.”
I began to look more closely at the patients, seeing what I would look like in the future. Their bodies were pale and covered in medical equipment wires. I could tell by the texture of their skin and the size of their bodies that there were people of all ages in the ward. Thankfully, there weren't any children.
After giving me a moment to absorb his words, Roland continued, “What we are researching here is the usage of the SRU as a wellness enhancement for terminally ill patients. First, the SRU-visors keep the patients from feeling their physical pain, so they do not have to spend their last days dependent upon morphine or other drugs. Second, instead of spending the rest of their lives cooped up in a bed, constantly being reminded that the end is near, they are able to enjoy the remainder of their days living out their fantasies or spending time with their loved ones in a less depressing manner than sitting in a chair next to a hospital bed.
Virtual Me- Valkyrie Page 28