by K. T. Hanna
Mm-hm?
Jinna is...infected.
That stopped Murmur’s calculations in their tracks. What?
Somnia sounded actually worried, like she didn’t believe this could happen.
I said, Jinna is infected, or else, his headset has been damaged or infected. Either way, it`s making his moods swing, and homing in on anger. That specific anger seems to be directed toward you specifically and Fable in a broader sense. But I can`t figure out why or how yet.
How do you mean? Murmur needed Somnia to take a moment and think over the answer before blurting it out, or it wasn’t going to help either of them.
Somnia paused, like she was mulling the words over. His emotional reactions are fueled by you and your abilities, by what you do.
Could he have been infected by Jirald? Murmur asked, knowing that was one of the only sources that would probably hate her enough to do that. Besides, it was a logical next step. Otherwise it just didn’t make much sense to her. Not that she didn’t believe Somnia, she just found it very coincidental. And coincidences were some of her least favorite things.
Perhaps, but it would involve so many remote possibilities.
Somnia sounded like she was contemplating something, so Murmur continued her calculations while the world decided what it thought. She laughed at that, a bit at herself too.
That entertaining?
What? Murmur pulled herself away from the calculations somewhat irritated. After all, they didn’t have that much time between runs. At least they’d respawned back on Hipnormous’s platform. So they didn’t have to swim the whole way.
The combat logs, are they that entertaining?
Oh, no. These are just what I thought they’d be. I was a bit more amused at your comment, that’s all. Murmur frowned as she came upon how hard the damage hit different armor classes.
Somnia fell silent, and Murmur turned her attention back to the strategy she’d been contemplating.
She was pretty sure her theory was right. Every twenty percent or at least—that’s how it appeared—the Tailwhip would happen. If you interrupted the Poison Fountain on that percentage, then you’d only get the Tailwhip, followed by the Bodywhirl. That should give the raid just enough time to recover so that the next Poison Fountain could erupt at seventy-five percent. Then there wouldn’t be anything but Poison Fountain until sixty percent again.
Not really complex, just having to know where to set the interrupts and make sure they weren’t missed. Although it really did seem a bit too simple, so she was ready for a big doozy to hit them at some time.
It could be Jirald. There’s more off about him than about Jinna. I can’t get a proper reading on Jirald’s mind. Like his headgear has been tampered with but not quite in the same way yours and your guild’s is. Yet there are so many similarities. Like someone modeled this on yours but decided they knew better about certain things. This is complicated. Human brains could be much simpler.
Somnia sounded worried, as if she hadn’t contemplated any of this happening despite Murmur’s predicament. Murmur could sympathize. That was pretty much how the whole game had been to her so far.
Are you saying I can’t trust Jinna? That was the crux of it. Who were her friends, and who was pretending, and who had Jirald corrupted?
For now, don’t trust Jirald, Jinna, Masha, or Risk...although the latter, he is very strong willed. I think he’s noticed something.
Well, he was never my biggest fan anyway, Murmur half-joked, trying to keep her spirits up a bit. But I will be careful, I promise.
Somnia paused for a moment. I’m going to talk to the others. I think I might need their help.
Murmur smiled to herself. You know, that’s a good sign, to ask for help. I’ve been told it’s character building.
Shut up. You don’t even take the advice you receive.
But there was laughter in Somnia’s tone. Murmur was getting used to her, in a way that she wasn’t sure could be considered normal. But then nothing since she’d begun playing Somnia could be considered normal.
Rebuffs were done, Mellow and Cardishan had finished handing out one of their consumable abilities. They were hoping it would help when the special abilities were triggered, just in case they missed another interrupt.
“Want me to do the interrupts?” Karn startled Murmur slightly as Devlish began to order everyone out.
“Yeah. That’s probably the best.” Murmur couldn’t help but let her gaze wander over to where Jirald and Jinna swam, talking.
Karn glanced at her father as well before speaking. Her voice dropped a few more decibels, barely above a whisper. “My dad and a few of the others have been acting differently. I’m not sure why.”
Murmur nodded, wondering just how many people in the raid had noticed their behavior. “To be honest, you’re probably lucky you’re a girl. Jirald doesn’t really think you’re capable of much.” She laughed softly at her statement, not having realized just how much admitting that still hurt her.
Karn nodded, biting her lip as thoughts about the matter clearly ran through her mind. “My dad is usually protective. But he’s not being himself.” She seemed worried, and Murmur thought Karn must be much younger than she’d originally thought.
“It’s okay. You’re doing really well. Keep it up and you’ll give the others a decent run for their money.” Murmur smiled, trying to make sure she could help the girl loosen up a little. Karn seemed so tense.
“I think that’s a good goal to aim for.” Karn grinned, and some of the tension leaked from her shoulders.
“So only interrupt the Fountain at the eighty percent mark. I’m assuming it’ll be at the sixty percent and forty percent markers too, but can’t say so for certain until we get there. It’s all theory at the moment. Just get ready to adapt as needed. Okay?” Murmur watched as the girl took direction in and gave a final nod at the end.
“Got it. Thank you.” Karn swam off to join the melee fighters, leaving a contemplative Murmur in her wake.
“Seems like you’ve made a little friend there, Mur.” Merlin poked her arm with the tip of his bow. “Seems like a good kid.”
“Shut up. You were still calling me a kid four months ago.” She grinned at him and pushed his bow away.
He slipped it over his shoulder and sighed as the group began to gather in front of the temple that housed Pivya. “Well, there are things that make you grow up immediately in my eyes.”
“Like a coma…” Murmur beat him to it, unable to suppress a chuckle.
He laughed with her. “Yeah, like a coma.”
Storm Entertainment
Somnia Online Division
Game Development Offices - Shayla’s Office
Day Thirty-One
“So now he’s in a pod and being observed by our medical team, not by his employers?” Laria crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at her husband. “What am I supposed to do with that? Is Davenport trying to cover it up or something?”
“It’s not that simple. From what I can gather, Davenport has struck some deal that allows him to do this through James’s employers. It all feels very complicated.” David sighed softly.
“Laria.” Shayla spoke up. “Sit down and help me implement this. We need to make sure it’s influencing the servers at the same rate. And while I totally get your concern, right now I would appreciate it if we could just focus our attention on the game so we, you know, have a game world to salvage.”
Laria flushed, knowing Shayla was right. “Fine. Don’t think I’ve forgotten, David.” She sat down opposite Shayla, pulling up her interface, and began to synchronize her own actions with her colleagues.
She needed to calm down her mind and make sure she was at full capacity in order to follow the virus. The anti-virus was delicate but tenacious, and as long as they could make sure it survived the initial onslaught by the virus, it should be okay.
The coding painted such a picture, and the virus left Laria feeling dirty with the way it twisted and su
bverted the original coding. All they had to make sure of was that the anti-virus they were sending from outside could meet up with the one the AIs injected from the inside.
Laria bit her lip. This wasn’t what she signed up for. She should be making the next level of content instead of worrying about the massive and rampant glitches inherent in her world. Somnia had been her brainchild, backed by Shayla, encouraged by Davenport. It was falling apart, and she had to do everything she could to preserve as much as possible.
David’s fingers began to work the knots out of her shoulders, and it surprised her how much tension she was carrying in them. Not that meditation had ever worked properly for her. But this, this connection with another human, her human, that worked wonders. She dug her heels in and threw herself into the anti-virus distribution.
Just one more dungeon to go. Wren would make it in time. She just had to.
Somnia Online
Continent Firtulai
Ilinish Threshold Outskirts
Day Thirty
Telvar knelt next to the entrance of the dungeon; his hand for all appearances was simply placed on the earth. The creature wasn’t functioning as intended, and the last guild to send a group into the dungeon hadn’t reemerged. He could feel the undertone of wrongness in the coding, the slight signs of cognitive thought that sparked occasionally through the trapdoor beast’s thoughts. Flickering like old movie static on tube televisions.
“What do you think?” Hiro asked, squatting down too.
“I’m not sure what to think on this one. Everything should be fine technically, but something is making its signals weak, and it’s not letting raiders into the dungeon.” Telvar had always liked the trapdoor mechanic. It was a pity it wasn’t feeling well.
Telvar sighed. His siblings headed off to take care of a couple of errors making their haven go haywire. Hiro was with him to provide company and, well, so he wasn’t alone. He knew he’d need to head to Cenedril for the final puzzle to unlock the last of the keys shortly. An AI’s work was never done.
He’d always opposed this way of completing the first high end tier of dungeons. Though he’d not expected the events to unfold precisely in this way. He sighed, all too aware of the fact that he was mimicking humans when he didn’t have to. And that was it, mimicking humans, not being like them. Not with all those flaws.
You aren’t focused on what you should be.
Somnia’s voice pulled him out of his albeit off topic mind wanderings and back into the reality he was desperately trying to avoid.
“A little hard to concentrate when my own mortality hangs in the balance,” he quipped, rising to stand. He needed to make sure the anti-virus could take a foothold somewhere here, or else it would be difficult to anchor the code the way they needed for if and when the bastard emerged.
It will work, and I have an idea. Somnia sounded almost giddy about the thought. Perhaps she’d spent too much time around Sinister. The virus is self-replicating. The anti-virus tags along. Once its absorbed by the virus, it should be able to seed itself into that self-replication. Technically.
That’s a lot to let ride on a technicality. Telvar wasn’t even aware that he’d switched to communicating with her internally until he’d done so. It was a far more efficient method of communication anyway. But it also told him how far along she was in her own evolution, and while not directly responsible, he couldn’t help but feel a modicum of pride.
I know. And for just a moment, Somnia was more visible than usual. Almost solid. It was gone in a flash, but it did speak to how much strength she was gaining.
She flickered slightly and repeated herself, her voice stronger this time. I know, but that’s what we have, and as far as I’ve been able to run the algorithms, I’m quite certain it won’t remain just a technicality.
How do you know that? he asked, moving closer to her, wanting to keep those words solely between their minds and not let anything pick up on them.
She grinned, and that was an expression she’d definitely gleaned from the bloodmage. Because I can feel the way they mesh together. The anti-virus is good for me, good for this world. We will win; we just have to show a unified front when the time comes.
And that’s when she hesitated. There is something wrong with some of the players. Somehow it seems they’ve been personally infected. Individually, and I don’t believe it’s only the headgear. Despite Murmur warding her raiders against mental attacks, it still got through to their minds. Like they’re bleeding, but malice and not blood.
Telvar frowned thoughtfully, eyeing Hiro who looked on with a quizzical expression. Can you tell if they’re wearing altered headgear?
Her face lit up. I do know that Jirald is, and of course Jinna, but I do not know about the others. I will check. She disappeared as fast as she’d arrived, and Telvar stared at the space she’d just vacated.
Jirald. He should have known he’d be the instigator, but how had he done that? How many shards had the boy ingested? What the fuck had Sui been thinking at the time he gave him his quest?
All of them. She was back so fast Telvar barely had time to register his own thoughts.
All he could do was repeat what she told him. All of them are altered?
She nodded, a hint of fear shining in her eyes for a moment.
They can’t just leave the damned things alone. Great. Now we don’t just have to worry about Michael’s endgame, but how Jirald fits in as well.
Pivya sat at sixty percent again. The raiders hedged their bets again, reinforcing their heals and wards, and allowed the Tailwhip to hit first, followed by the Body Whirl, and then back to the Poison Fountain all inside of those five percent. They came out the other side only a little worse for wear, but the fight still seemed far too easy. Murmur didn’t like it.
Getting the timing down for percentage-based abilities wasn’t a difficult thing. And easy wasn’t something she’d attribute to Somnia as a world, game, or whatever. Different, sometimes odd, other times fascinating, but never easy.
The raid continued its barrage of DPS. Devlish tanked the strangely mermaid-tailed sea-unicorn with fish-like scales, while the other tanks were in DPS mode. Arrows rained down from above, never hitting friendly targets. That was another strange, physics-defying mechanic.
Earth erupted all around the creature, damaging it ferociously. Snowy and Shir-Khan flitted about as much as swimming animals could. And all the while, Murmur’s stomach roiled against the simplicity of it all.
But fifty percent came and went, and Murmur, despite her best intentions, tried to relax. Maybe she was just being paranoid because so many fights had ended up going differently than originally anticipated. Or perhaps because there was a virus attached to a human consciousness running rampant throughout the game and mucking things up.
Then again, she could just be completely right about everything, even if she didn’t want to be.
You are a bit full of yourself sometimes.
You’re getting better at colloquialisms too, Murmur shot back and then took a breath, making sure she didn’t miss anything this time around as they approached forty percent. But there were no tell-tale signs, nothing that indicated there might be some unexpected adds coming, or that there might be an ability Pivya had kept hidden until now.
Nothing.
And that probably scared her the most.
Somnia suddenly spoke up again. I am. I think. I’m also getting better at delving into myself and figuring out just what I’m missing. Right now, I can automatically filter out things that don’t belong through many of the systems that make up what I am.
There was brief hesitation, and Murmur took that moment to take a chance. I need to concentrate right now. Can we chat about this once we either kill this or wipe?
Somnia sounded surprised. Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t realize. I’m just used to popping in.
The voice quieted, and Murmur turned back to giving the raid her full one hundred percent again. As much as she expected the figh
t to be more, as much as she wanted it to be more so it was a challenge, the same mundane interrupt, fueling the three abilities inside of five percent, occurred again at forty and then twenty percent.
The fight wasn’t just easy, it was anticlimactic. Sure, the mechanic was cool, but it didn’t take Einstein to figure out how to best deal with the damage. Pivya fought with the same energy it had fought with the entire time. There was nothing remarkable about it, and as it approached ten percent it even seemed to give up.
And still that damned feeling that something wasn’t right wouldn’t let up on her.
“Most lackluster fight ever,” Risk grumped over raid. The thing was, Murmur had to agree with him. It was a very disappointing fight.
She didn’t even think it was going to do anything worse in its death throes. And she was right. By the time they got down to two percent, it felt like they were bullies picking on the poor innocent sea creature. She almost didn’t want to kill the poor thing. The frill that stood out initially running down its spin had wilted. It had holes in it. And the scales that covered its body with iridescent mermaid-like shine were dulled, bleeding, and seemed to be peeling in some places. Like it had given up totally. Even the horn appeared to have cracks in it.
“This doesn’t feel right, Mur.” Havoc leaned over as Pivya’s health whittled down.
Murmur nodded. “Yeah. There’s something off about this whole thing.” She could almost feel it crawling up her spine, like it was underneath her skin. Premonitions were one thing, but her entire body was certain this fight wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
Really though, as Pivya hit zero hit points, the creature began to shake. Its body, already lackluster and beginning to fall apart, cracked down the center of the scales. They peeled back to reveal something underneath the outer coat along with the innards and stomach lining. Murmur knew she should have trusted her gut the entire time.
The ground around them trembled just as Pivya’s body opened to reveal more of what lay underneath. Dark blue liquid poured out of the body cavity like oil in water coming out in thick globs, somehow sucking in all of the tissue surrounding it and becoming one with it.