by Phoenix Ward
“Just be careful about the ghouls he spawns,” Ethan said.
“Right, which is where you’ll come in,” Sharpe continued. “Since you’re limited for ranged attacks, I think the best thing you can do is focus on the little guys. At least, until the King can get to us. Then, we hit him and we hit him hard.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ethan said. “Let’s do it.”
“After you.”
Ethan stood to his full height and stared at the Ghoul King. It wheezed, a bit of saliva bubbling up in the corner of its mouth. It still hadn’t taken notice of him.
With a deep breath, he chucked his ax as hard as he could at the beast. It whizzed through the air, rotating a few full times before lodging into the Ghoul King’s neck. The monster let out a shrill shriek, then turned its full attention on the teenager who attacked it. Its grotesque features grew determined and it started to move towards them.
Sharpe jumped in with one of his spells, however. A gray-blue mist surrounded the caster’s hands as he made the Ghoul King immobile.
Angry, the Ghoul King let out a roar that shook the entire chamber. One of the weak pillars tumbled to the floor from the vibrations. The rumbling continued after the Ghoul King closed its gory mouth, though. Both adventurers could feel it in their feet.
The floor started to crack open, and the stones that composed it were pushed to the side. Gruesome ghoul hands, too many to count, emerged from holes in the ground. The smaller undead creatures scrabbled out of their underground tunnels and out into the chamber. None of them hesitated before rushing the wizard who was casting spell after spell on their king.
Ethan waited for just the right moment before unleashing a whirlwind with his ax. He spun around, the weapon blade extended in such a way that he turned into a human-powered blender. He made his stand between Sharpe and the undead horde, letting bits of horrible flesh scatter out before him.
The Ghoul King took a large step towards them, an angry scowl imprinted on its indistinct features.
“I can’t hold him anymore!” Sharpe cried out, his voice strained. He tried chanting some more mage-gibberish, but it was too late. The boss monster was upon them.
Ethan transitioned seamlessly from hacking apart undead minions to making huge slices in the Ghoul King’s ankles. Each blow he landed drew a scream from the monster’s pale, skinless lips. The minions still came at them in relentless waves, so he had to redirect every third blow to the accumulating monsters. Sharpe sent balls of fire into the crowds of undead beasts and large spikes of solid ice into the Ghoul King’s chest.
When the moment was right, Ethan activated one of the few magical abilities he had. An aura of blue-green started to surround him as he grew about a foot in height. A bit of magical fire wafted out of his eyes as he focused every attack on the weakened Ghoul King. The buff gave him the strength to hack into the huge creature’s dead chest. The Ghoul King shrieked, but it was too hurt to flee or strike back with any kind of force.
“One more hit!” Ethan shouted to his friend, his enchanted ax embedded deep into the boss monster’s sternum. He pushed down hard on the weapon’s long handle like it was a lever and pried the wound open. Through all the rotting flesh and blackened blood, the Ghoul King’s heart was exposed.
Sharpe lifted his palm and started casting the biggest fireball yet. With a shout, he sent the magical orb of fire into the Ghoul King’s chest, engulfing its heart.
The creature let out one last, hideous howl before it collapsed to the dungeon floor, dead. The smaller ghouls who were still trying to protect their leader turned into ash as the Ghoul King exhaled its last breath.
Ethan and Sharpe stared at the dead monster with stunned expressions. Then, after almost a full minute of shock, they erupted into triumphant cheering.
“We did it! We killed it!” Sharpe shouted. He couldn’t help but grab his friend by the shoulders, jumping up and down. “Almost nineteen years, but we did it!”
“Good casting, friend,” Ethan said, a big stupid grin on his face. “He never stood a chance.”
“Thank God we killed him, though,” Sharpe said. “I didn’t realize that I was on my last life.”
“Oh, come on, that just adds to the fun!” Ethan commented. “Though, I’m glad you didn’t dissolve in the middle of the fight there.”
“Me too,” Sharpe said.
They were both beaming at each other as the dungeon around them darkened and faded away.
“There’s no way anything out in the real world is that exciting,” Sharpe said.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Ethan replied.
3
Patrol
“You can never tell which ones are gonna run,” Abenayo told Tera as she waved a dismissive hand to the beggar who sat with his open hand outstretched toward them. He frowned and lowered his gaze to the dirt while they walked by.
They had no destination and they were in no hurry. Tera found patrol to be one of the most boring experiences in her short life. Coupled with the fact that they were stationed in Slumside and only had the dirty, down-turned faces of the ghetto dwellers to greet them, patrol was one of her least favorite parts of the job.
“You always think you can tell, but you never know until right before they do it,” Abenayo continued. “There’s about a two-second warning. A little flutter in their eyes that tells you, ‘I’m gonna run.’ Still, you can’t tell going in. I’ve seen people run from a traffic citation, yet seen murderers stay cool as a cucumber. After all these years, that little flutter is the only way I can tell.”
“Stupid choice on their part,” Tera commented. She lifted her leg to avoid a strange puddle in the road. She couldn’t tell if it was urine, dirty water, oil, or… something else. “They should know that disobedience is the one sure way to secure a ticket to the labor camps. If anything’s going to break them, it’s that.”
“They think they can get away with it,” Abenayo replied. “That’s why they run. They’re gamblers. In their head, they have better odds of running from us and getting no charges than surrendering and getting light charges. They’re always wrong, of course. The arrogance of a dwindling race, I suppose.”
“I don’t know how dwindling they are,” Tera said, looking around. “Seems like they multiply down here.”
“Nah,” her partner said. “This is just where they all end up, eventually. We’re just seeing the remnants. Give it another generation and they’ll be an endangered species.”
“Would that be good, though?” Tera asked.
Abenayo looked over at the rookie with a sideways glance.
“I think so,” she affirmed. “They’re all animals, anyway. Their existence only slows things down. Keeps society from advancing. I dunno, Alvarez, this is a bit too philosophical for me. I just do what I’m told.”
“They don’t seem to be going down without a fight,” Tera commented, “if they’re going extinct at all.”
Abenayo chuckled a little.
“Everything wants to preserve its existence,” she said. “Even the weeds in the cracks of the street will do anything in their power to stay alive. It doesn’t matter, though. Nature doesn’t care what the weeds want. It moves on without them. It’s normal to see the humans fight back when they’re cornered, like frightened beasts. Or — as we’ve seen today — run like scared little animals. It’s amusing, really.”
Tera said nothing as they walked two blocks down the pitted and filthy road. At the next intersection, they took a right, forcing a large family of humans to part for them.
The synthetic lips on the rookie’s robotic face frowned as she turned back and looked at their subservient expressions.
“Why is it that the humans all seem to end up in Slumside?” Tera asked. “I mean, so disproportionately. There’s got to be a hundred humans here for every I.I.”
“It’s because they’re less intelligent, and therefore, worth less to the city,” Abenayo answered. “They should be grateful t
he Council gives them a place to stay at all. We could just kick them out and send them into the wastes with the other ferals, and the city would be all the better for it. I don’t know why they don’t — it could save a lot of resources. I guess even the Council can’t help but feel sympathy for the pathetic creatures. So we give them a home, a place to live out the twilight of their lives. Like some sort of hospice.”
“They don’t seem to think it’s very generous,” Tera commented. “They hate us down here.”
“Of course they do,” her partner replied. “We’re their replacements. I can’t blame them for hating us. I’m sure we’ll hate whoever ends up replacing us, too.”
They took another turn, taking a less-traveled road that ran parallel to the main street in their precinct. Abenayo liked to take this route in hopes of a teachable moment for Tera. The road seemed to attract lowlifes from all over Slumside who sought shelter from prying eyes, and Abenayo knew it. The slum dwellers didn’t seem to catch onto that fact, however.
Only a few humans hung out in the side road. Most just used it to get where they need to go, but a few loiter on crummy little porches barely wide enough for one to sit on. A faint cloud of smoke lingered in the air and Tera heard one of the people cough. She recognized the sweet odor of Mist, a drug that had been outlawed by the Council.
The narcotic was a variation of an old drug called Fog, which played an important part in mankind’s downfall. The installed intelligences of the old world used it to degrade human brains to the point where it was easy to Jump into their neural implants and control their bodies. They used that control to knock humans off the podium of global dominance. A version of Fog was still produced by the Council and distributed to the people in the cities, but it wasn’t necessary. The humans were already complacent and soft.
The Mist variation of the drug was illegal, however. It gave the user a euphoric high like Fog did, but instead of causing passive brain damage, it caused mechanical issues in their implants. Also, it sent the user into either a deep slumber or a paranoid fit.
“Hey!” Abenayo barked at a group of three slum dwellers gathered on one of the makeshift stoops.
The smoke came from them, according to Tera’s sensors. They seemed to know they were busted as they tried to hide their pipes and needles and hoses, their eyes wide with concern.
“I saw that!” Abenayo said, stepping up and seizing one of their Mist pipes. “You know this shit is illegal, right?”
Slowly, they all nodded. None of them said a word.
“Get rid of it now and don’t let me see it again,” the senior officer ordered them. “If I catch you with that stuff, I’m sending you off to the camps, got it? You don’t want that, do you?”
They shook their heads.
One of them stared at the pipe in her hand, the drug only half-smoked inside. His eyes watched longingly as Abenayo took the pipe with her. Tera followed her partner as they walked away from the junkies.
“They won’t get rid of it,” Abenayo commented once they were out of earshot.
“Pity,” Tera replied.
She couldn’t imagine the misery that was life in one of the labor camps. Perhaps she would never be able to picture it since she didn’t have a human body. She didn’t know what exhaustion felt like, how aching muscles or hunger affects the body. The super-rich I.I.s in the city might know better, since they could afford human bodies to live in. However, she doubted any of them felt hunger or fatigue. Someone with that kind of money wasn’t doing their own labor. They weren’t going without food.
Still, she knew enough about the camps to understand why people feared them so much. It was the only effective deterrent in a society this miserable. Prison time and fines are no threat to someone who lives in the slums.
They left the seedy alley and turned onto one of the residential lanes that connected to the main street. Tera saw an old woman with a rag over her head ushering a young boy back into their shack. The dwelling looked barely big enough for the two of them to lie down inside.
Abenayo stopped short and Tera took a few steps before noticing. When she looked back, her partner had a look of amusement on her robotic features.
“Come look at this,” Abenayo said. She was staring at one of the electrical poles that lined the street.
Tera walked over to where her superior stood and followed her gaze. Someone had stapled a flyer to the pole for passersby to see.
MORTALITY GOT YOU DOWN?
WE CAN HELP YOU LEAVE THIS LIFE BEHIND
AND JOIN OUR I.I. SUPERIORS.
FIND THE SHEDDERS AND ASCEND TO A HIGHER EXISTENCE.
A confused laugh escaped Tera’s auditory output. She looked over and saw Abenayo with an expression of humor she had never seen in her partner’s face.
“Oh, I’m sure this club will be real popular with the slum dwellers,” the senior officer joked. “Everyone knows they love installed intelligences. They probably can’t wait to get installed.”
Tera laughed a little more.
“This has to be a joke, right?” she said.
“That, or someone’s about to be really unpopular around here,” Abenayo replied. Her face became serious after she looked at the flyer again. “Best to report this, just in case something comes of it.”
“Good idea,” Tera said. “Could get messy.”
Abenayo nodded in agreement. “And God knows they’ll send us in to clean it up,” she said.
4
Scoreboard
Ethan could hear the sounds of children laughing and screaming in the distance, toward the roller coaster and other rides. A medley of arcade noises, carnival music, clunking machinery, and ringing bells washed in with the sound of the waves. Some seagulls would sing out their shrill honks, but the wind carried most of the commotion away.
“Man, I wonder how many other kids have beat the Ghoul King,” Sharpe said. He reached out and touched each baluster of the boardwalk’s railing as they walked.
“Not many, I think,” Ethan replied. “Otherwise, we’d start hearing of strategies on how to do it. I mean, it took us nearly nineteen years to pull it off.”
“Yeah, but I mean, we weren’t trying to fight the Ghoul King when we were babies,” Sharpe argued. “We’ve had maybe ten good years of practice. Man, I wonder what we’d be able to do if we could stay in the simulation forever.”
They passed one of the major intersections of the boardwalk map they were loaded into. Couples carried cotton candy past carnies who were trying to egg someone on to play their rigged carnival games.
“Want to go into the market?” Ethan asked.
Sharpe followed his gaze with uncertain eyes. “I dunno,” he replied. “What would we do? I don’t have many credits to spend. I put almost everything I got from the Ghoul King into my home base. Added some Weeping Angels to the great hall. Should really creep out my next guests.”
“I was thinking of maybe going to the strongman show,” Ethan said, gazing down the wooden road.
Sharpe smirked. “Trying to pump up that score before the big day, eh?” he asked.
“I’m only at 13,029 points,” Ethan said, a bit of concern in his tone. “I have to do something. My nineteenth birthday is only a week away.”
“Yeah, I guess you don’t wanna be stuck with something boring like software sales because of a shitty score,” Sharpe said. “Not when you could do something like space exploration.”
“‘Ethan the Martian,’ ” Ethan said in a joking manner. “I like the sound of it.”
“No one would call you that because you wouldn’t be the first one there,” Sharpe said. “And it’s not like you were born there, so no one would call you a Martian if you, like, weren’t on Mars —”
“Alright, I get it,” Ethan interrupted. “Some other planet then.”
“Don’t worry, man,” Sharpe said. “Even with your score, you’ll still be going into a utopia. The worst-case scenario would still look like an island vacation to the people of
the past. They’d shit themselves if they knew.”
“That’s what they say,” Ethan said.
Sharpe picked up on the restless air in his friend’s voice.
“Hey, I’ll help you raise your score before your graduation if you want,” he said. “We could get you up to like 15,000 if we really grind.”
“Maybe later,” Ethan said. “Come on, let’s see what’s going on down at the beach.”
He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He wasn’t even sure if he was worried about his score or something else. Maybe it was just the anxiety of the impending birthday.
Nineteen. The age when everyone leaves the simulation. They called it a graduation, but to Ethan, it seemed more like a birth. He would be entering a whole new world. The real world.
They approached the end of the boardwalk where a path began to lead to the beach. There were several torches lining the way, evenly spaced out to provide a clear snake of illumination.
“You know what I wanna do when I get unplugged?” Sharpe asked as they leisurely made their way to the beach. “I wanna run my own video game simulation universe. You know, like the sim here, but for everyone. With even more content, too. It would be amazing, I tell you.”
“I just wish we knew more about what we’re getting into,” Ethan said. “I know they teach us a lot, but it’s all academic stuff. None of that’s going to matter when we see it firsthand. I want to know what it’s going to feel like. What I will do with my days. All the stuff you can’t learn by reading about it and watching videos.”
“That’s an answer you’re just going to have to find out,” Sharpe replied. “Nadia knows already. Lucky chick.”
“I miss her,” Ethan said, recalling their older friend. She had been the one to show them the Ghoul King adventure in the first place. “I can’t believe it’s only been six months since her graduation.”
“I know,” Sharpe replied. “It feels like so much longer.”
“I wonder what she’s up to.”
“Oh, I bet she’s a hotshot C.E.O. of some racing company or something,” Sharpe said. “You know her. She’s fierce. No matter where she is or what she’s doing, I’m sure she’s kicking ass at it.”