D_Light was now feeling downright cocky and was getting ready to compliment the bird on its fine plumage-especially on its backside-and its lack of fishy breath. Fortunately, he was interrupted before he said something he’d later regret. In walked a tall, well-built man carrying a round stone tray. The man, dressed in a long, dark, flowing robe that dragged behind him with a faint brushing sound, bore a dark circle tattoo in the middle of each cheek like a classic clown who had gone gothic. These tattoos indicated that the servant was a product, a living organism based on a human template that was engineered to serve a human master. The servant smiled politely and bent down to present D_Light with a truffle. He selected one that was dusted with a shimmering golden powder.
“Ah, curry coconut,” squawked the bird, “my favorite! Take another, we can always make more.”
D_Light, having confirmed with Smorgeous that no poison was detected, decided to take two. They were to die for, at least metaphorically. Not that D_Light was truly afraid of being poisoned, for outside of Rule Seven it was a sin for anyone-noble or otherwise-to murder another human, even a common player like D_Light. Still, the truffles could be drugged. The recent sniffing software Smorgeous had downloaded could detect many drugs, but not all of them, especially since new drugs were being invented every day. Calculating the risk and deciding that the benefits outweighed them, D_Light reached for yet another. After all, this was top-notch gourmet chocolate that was prohibitively expensive for anyone but nobility. It also seemed to contain a chili powder or some such substance that inflicted an addictive and satisfying burn.
D_Light was about to remark that these chocolates were even better than Cweet™ gourmet chocolates when he caught himself. Nobles themselves never dropped brand names, and it was rude for others to drop on them. Unlike nobility of past eras, the powerful of today were distinguished largely by what they did not say. By refraining from name-dropping, a well-to-do player was telling the world, “I needn’t the trivial point scraps for which lesser players prostitute themselves.”
Until now, Lyra had been completely committed to pacing between the fireplace on the west wall and the fireplace on the east. Presently, she began advancing toward D_Light, her eyes bearing down on him. D_Light, halfway into a truffle, swallowed the contents of his mouth and silently debated whether or not it would be rude to pop in the other half while she approached. In his indecision, the delicate chocolate melted between his fingers. He ended up not only popping in the other half, but licking off his fingers as well. Good one, D_Light, he thought. Why not just blow your nose on your sleeve while you’re at it! He glanced up at Lyra and gave her a quick and innocent, “Oops!”
Mother Lyra was unusually tall for a human female. Like most humans, she was pandectic, a descendant of a rich mixture of many different races, making her skin a deep tan color. Her heart-shaped face was softly sculpted, the skin smooth and flawless, like polished stone. Long, jet-black locks of loosely curled hair were amassed on the top of her head and hung haphazardly about her face, encircling her cheeks and eyes. She wore an organic bodysuit, similar to the one Fael had worn last night, but Lyra’s suit was blood red. Power red. Although Lyra was not very muscular, the formfitting bodysuit revealed a lean, fit figure. Over her bodysuit a semitransparent cloak of sea blue hung on her like a whisper. She was the godmother of many, and she definitely looked the part.
D_Light had been in Lyra’s presence before, and aside from the noblewoman’s carefree manner, there was one thing about her that fascinated him more than all else. It was her eyes. Striking green emeralds that nearly glowed against the otherwise dark shadows of her countenance, a trait engineered by her ancestors. As would be expected from someone of her station, her eyes were fearless and determined, but there was also some wilderness that hid behind them, a feral quality that somewhat belied her elegant composure. It was a contradiction that D_Light found most intriguing.
I want you to know that I harbor no ill feelings toward you with regard to the matter between you and Fael. Lyra’s voice was transmitted telepathically, using Smorgeous as a security intermediary.
This was completely unexpected, both the message and the method of delivery. It was highly irregular for members of unequal social classes to blink one another. Lyra’s lynx familiar had locked eyes with Smorgeous for optimal communion. D_Light was caught off guard by the blink, but he promptly gave a telepathic reply. Thank you, Mother. I never intended-
I do not want an apology, Lyra interrupted. I watched the archive. You did what you thought sensible, and it appears to have paid off well. Clearly, Fael underestimated you. It was her own ambition that was her undoing.
D_Light sent the next thought that came to him. Mother, if you saw the archive, then you know I did not have to frag her. I could have let her go.
D_Light immediately regretted the response, wondering why he was insisting on apologizing when she had expressly stated that she did not want one. He silently chastised himself for his pathetic behavior.
Lyra smiled at him shrewdly. Well, I’m sure you know that if you had let sweet Fael live, every girl with a pretty smile would think she could get a free pass. And then what kind of player would you be?
A dead one, D_Light thought, although he kept this superfluous thought to himself.
Lyra’s eyes softened and the taut skin of her face relaxed as she turned away from D_Light. I like that you felt something for her, D_Light. Watching the two of you together… Lyra hesitated for a moment. Well, I would say she was fond of you as well. Sure, she was willing to cash you in, but that does not mean that under other circumstances you two could not have been friends. Or more.
As she sent that thought, she turned and looked directly into D_Light. His heart seemed to stop for a moment as he became simultaneously afraid and thrilled by her intense green eyes.
“Lyra, what are you doing?” The nobleman in the chair looked back and forth between Lyra and D_Light. His tone was not one of urgency, but of mild curiosity and possible irritation.
“Just making our new friend feel at ease,” Lyra said aloud. As the blink terminated, D_Light felt as though something warm had just fled his mind. He lamented the loss of their private telepathic communication.
As though taking a cue, the monstrous birdman flew up onto one of the arches high overhead. It then perched itself, swinging its giant webbed feet under the rafter while contently watching over the room.
“Djoser, this is D_Light, level eighty-three player and resident of the upper east wing of this little pile of stones,” Lyra declared. Then, gesturing toward the nobleman, she said, “D_Light, this is Father Djoser Townsend, third son of the First Grandfather of Townsend.” D_Light stood and bowed low to the confirmed noble.
Mother Lyra brought her hands together and interlaced her fingers. “So now that you are comfortable, properly introduced, and stuffed with fine chocolate, let me tell you why you were summoned here.”
D_Light felt a slight knot in his stomach. He bowed to his mother and then stood alert.
“Our house has been selected for this month’s MetaGame,” Lyra said. “Father Townsend and I have been invited to be the players. According to the rules, participants in the game are allowed to bring along an advisor. I was planning on taking Fael, as I always do, but due to recent events, I thought it appropriate for you to take her place.”
D_Light stood dumbfounded, half wondering if he had heard correctly. MetaGames were reserved for nobility and their closest entourage, and he certainly did not qualify as either. He hesitated before responding to make sure that he did not speak over Lyra. “Mother, I am at your service,” he declared. Another bow.
“Have you ever played a MetaGame before?” inquired Djoser, making no attempt to mask his skepticism.
D_Light assumed it was he who was being addressed. “No, Father,” he replied.
“What makes you qualified to advise anyone playing a MetaGame?” Djoser barked at him.
“I, um…I do not know for s
ure, Father. From what I understand, every game is unique.” D_Light had no idea what to tell the man, for he was just as surprised as Djoser.
“Lyra, is this a joke?” asked Djoser while looking at her severely. “This is a high-stakes game. If you are going to invite a pleb, at least choose someone useful!”
“He will be,” Lyra answered, her voice cool and unaffected.
“Really? What did you say he does? Makes avatars like…like that thing?” Djoser pointed up at the birdman in the rafters.
D_Light felt his gut wrench, for in actuality he designed and built all sorts of software, not just avatars. He hated it when people wrote him off as a designer of useless toys and tricks. However, D_Light knew it imprudent to correct his father. Besides, the man was probably right that his day-today skill set might not be all that useful in a real-life game.
A brown hawk with gray flecks swooped down from a high, dark marble fireplace mantle and landed directly across from Lyra’s lynx; it was the nobleman’s familiar. The two creatures locked eyes, and for several minutes the nobles discoursed silently, punctuated only with a variety of eye maneuvers (rolling eyes being the most common), hand gestures, sighs, and occasional laughs of contempt.
Finally, Lyra turned to D_Light and said, “We shall see you at sixteen hundred tomorrow. The game starts at sixteen thirty. I trust you will be prepared.”
“Yes, my lady,” D_Light confirmed. He bowed once to each of the nobles and did his best to back out of the room gracefully. He nearly tripped.
CHAPTER 6
Grinder games, which underlie the major economic activity of the Game, are firmly grounded in twentieth-century psychology. Rather than simply furnishing a framework for “productive work,” grinder games are designed to facilitate a state of “flow” in the player. Flow, first proposed by positive psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, is a state of consciousness where you are so immersed in your activity that you lose yourself in the “doing.” You lose your sense of time, replacing it with a state of energized focus. People who experience flow later report a sense of well-being and accomplishment.
Spanker games, by their very nature, send players effortlessly into flow, while it takes everything from sound psychology, engineering, and perhaps even a touch of inspiration to design a grinder game that facilitates flow. But I assure you it is worth it. Game software has not only the potential to maximize the productivity of countless “workers,” but can instill the greatest gift of all-happiness.
— Excerpt from “Introductory Instructive Archive for Grinder Developers of House Tesla,” by Darwin Scazaan
Todget grudgingly awakened. How could he sleep with that female thrashing and moaning next to him? He asked himself again why he slept in the same bed with that creature. Their humble apartment consisted of only a single room with an attached bathroom, but he could always sleep on the floor. That would be easy for him. Years ago when he was playing the running game in the Land of the Stag, Todget slept wherever he needed to. Crushed ferns placed beneath him provided more than adequate comfort, and with a blanket of heavy evergreen branches and some debris from a rotten log to provide camouflage and to mask his scent, he had himself an honest night’s sleep.
Sleeping in a bed for the last two years had made him soft, but Todget felt compelled to keep Lily as close as possible. Todget, like all of his tribe, was strong, fast, and cunning. He would protect her. We only have each other, he often reminded himself. As fugitives, they were pitted against the entire world. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before they were caught and killed-or worse yet, taken back. Nevertheless, he would keep her close and safe until his last breath.
Todget lay quietly, scanning the numbingly familiar room. The living fiber that enclosed his chamber changed color depending on the season, and the walls even allowed some sunlight to filter in through its strange, waxy membrane. This was helpful because their dwelling was not furnished with any artificial lights. Lily had told him that humans did not need lights in their lairs because they could see in the dark. Todget, however, had no such skill, so he had purchased a small, inexpensive hand lamp. Lily insisted that he only use the lamp on its lowest power since bright lights could attract attention.
Generally speaking, Todget did not mind bare walls. Since he knew they might have to flee at any moment, decorating seemed pointless. Lily, however, had been adamant on making changes. One day she brought back some slimy seeds and smeared them in dark patches on the walls. Within a day or two, flowers began sprouting from the patches. At first Todget had been very annoyed at this, having to duck his tall, muscular body underneath the flower stalks lest he be chided for his oafishness, but he soon grew fond of the red and gold spotted flowers. Sweet honey juice (Lily said the humans called it nectar) collected in the bulbs, and every morning Todget would drink from these bulbs like a newborn fawn suckling its mother.
Todget’s eyes wandered to the luminescent ceiling. Today the color of their dwelling was red with subtle bluish swirls. He hoped that he would live to see them turn bright green again when the air was at its warmest.
Todget and Lily always slept during the day, while the shiny-eyed humans played their pretend games outside. The frazzled players would storm up and down the steps, shouting childishly. Once the moon rose and the night was at its blackest, all but a few would retire indoors. That is when Todget and Lily would awaken. Although not completely dark yet, Lily seemed to be suffering during this day’s sleep, whimpering and gently flailing as though drowning in slow motion, so Todget decided to wake her early.
“Lily, wake. It is only a dark vision.” Todget shook her as softly as he knew how.
Lily’s blond hair was splashed about her pillow and partially covered the soft curves of her face. Her lips, thick and pink, were slightly parted as she gasped, and her forehead, normally smooth and without blemish, was furrowed. He shook her again, this time with more force. Her blue eyes suddenly shot open, and her breath stopped. A moment later a slight smile came over her, but then it disappeared as her eyes closed again. She then whispered in halting breaths, “I saw a man. He was tall and cruel. He had no eyes, no mouth, and no nose, just skin stretched tightly over where his face should have been. He wanted us.”
Todget did not understand dark visions. He never had such visions when he went into dark time. Lily did not used to have them either. It was only after she started working for that human-that professor, the one who implanted the machine in her head-that she had begun to experience these visions. At first the visions had been pleasant, but not recently. Todget had warned her to not work for the human, but she was stubborn.
“Was it like the one…the one before?”
Lily’s eyes opened up again as though fully recovered from her recent terror, and she said, “Todget, do not worry yourself. It is not a bad omen.” She smiled sweetly and mussed his hair.
The young female swung out of bed and stood up quickly to reach for her gown. Lily slept in light undergarments but kept her robe nearby. Todget watched her carefully. As a Star Sister, Lily was supremely toned and shapely, although her muscles were smaller than Todget’s mate back home. Since the Sisters were, athletically, a near match to the females of Todget’s race, by appearance alone Lily should be a suitable breeding partner-suitable enough, at least, since Todget had been having intense breeding urges lately-but Lily’s scent reminded him that she was not of his species, at which point he always felt ashamed and told himself to not think about her that way. But he still noticed how the human males watched her. Everywhere they went, men-and many women-followed Lily with their eyes.
“Humans have dark visions all the time and they mean nothing,” Lily commented while donning her robe. She turned to face him. Her face glowed with health, tan but not weathered.
“How do you know that?” Todget asked.
“I asked one,” Lily returned to bait him.
Todget felt his heart speeding up. “What? Who?”
Todget didn’t understand Lil
y’s social interest it humans. It was bad enough that she chose to work with them. Granted, they could use the money, despite the handsome sums Todget himself brought in from the tournaments. Still, living discreetly in this human land, even modestly, was very expensive. Privacy and protection had their costs.
Lily put up her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’m not out talking to random humans. It was just Professor SlippE. He said that almost all humans have these visions. Humans call them ‘dreams,’ except that when they dream, they hear things. Some even feel things or smell them.”
Todget looked at her with a blank expression.
It was times like these that Lily spoke as though to herself, assuming that Todget was not listening. “Thank Stag I only see visions. I would hate to know what the vile things in my visions smell or feel like.” Lily’s face contorted in revulsion.
“What kind of things? What are these words you come home with?” questioned Todget with irritation.
Lily raised an eyebrow, surprised that Todget was listening. It brought her out of her short-lived reflection. “Vile. It means terrible. As in, you don’t want to be around it.” Lily gave a little smirk and then asked, “So what are you and I up to tonight?”
“I have to fight tonight.” He looked up at the clock. Its numbers glowed dimly. It was the only human construct that decorated the wall.
Lily frowned. “Is it high stakes?”
“Yes, the money will be good.”
She walked slowly to him, leaned over, and tenderly kissed his wide forehead. “I wish I had not asked.”
“And you?” Todget grunted.
“I’m not working today.” Lily’s voice was flat as she walked toward the bathroom for her first shower of the night.
A strange creature she is, Todget thought. She always took two showers a day. Todget would not shower at all if it were not for Lily pestering him to do it before she would get into bed with him. It was for the best. He did not need to draw human attention to himself on account of his smell-a smell that Lily teasingly assured him was “most foul.”
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