As expected, mind hacking has occurred and even now still happens on occasion…
— Excerpt from “A Brief History of Technology,” by NoiceBooty
All the non-players, the suspects Katria had instructed the sniffers to check, came back negative. Most of these suspects turned out to be men who were asleep, but she had them checked anyway. It was beyond her reckoning how the demon had escaped this search filter. Had the rat escaped? But how? All exits are covered, she assured herself. There is no escape.
She had to admit that it was possible that the demons had created a secret escape route of some kind. This had been done before-once, to be exact. But it was an extremely difficult task. Nanosites crawled relentlessly over all surfaces, penetrating the smallest cracks, and they were even present in the air. The one time it had been done, the demons created a tunnel that was virtually a vacuum. However, such a thing could not be constructed from dro-vine. It was hard for Katria to imagine these demons constructing an escape vacuum tube right in the middle of a spanker ghetto.
It has to be something else, she thought. Maybe a personal transport? Something fast enough to get her out of there before we got the satellite in place? She ran the possible scenario through her mind.
Rhemus, who was monitoring her shared thoughts, broke in. I doubt it. I had the satellites check for emissions. There’s nothing in the area.
What about a closed system? Katria asked. A simple electric bike or something?
I just don’t see it, Rhemus replied. It’s hard enough for a player to get personal transportation, especially something souped-up enough to escape the perimeter I’m monitoring. Sloth is a sin, remember?
Demons don’t care about sinning, Katria shot back testily.
Soul, I know, I’m just telling you I don’t see it, Rhemus defended. When was the last time a demon got hold of a lift car?
When was the last time a demon fried an angel? Katria countered.
Katria suddenly dropped the conversation, having received a report from the sniffer assigned to dogging the demon’s faint scent trail. Had the trail been stronger or the path straighter, the sniffer might have been able to use its nearly supersonic speed to catch her in a matter of seconds, but as it was, it was barely able to follow the trail at all. The bot finally had something to say besides “status unchanged.” The scent was stronger, consistent with the demon having lingered in an area for longer than usual.
Katria patched herself though the video feed of the sniffer. There were four spankers standing rigid, submitting their full cooperation to the bot. All four of them were logged out of the game, which made them viable suspects; the sniffer had already checked them. Katria felt a thrill up her spine. The DNA trace was relatively new, probably only a few minutes old. Surely the demon has not escaped the mounds yet, she thought. Quickly, Katria grabbed the ID of one of the spankers from the sniffer’s log and opened a blink to him.
WootWood sat on the soft dro-vine seat in the chamber where he had just died. His longtime teammate, CootThis, paced back and forth, nearly frothing in his agitation. GoodLookin, also known as “new guy,” leaned against a dro-vine wall, frowning.
“That mother-fraggin’ pisser,” shouted CootThis, throwing his arms up in anguish. “He detonated an AOE spell right in the middle of us! Just waited for us, waited for us to do the heavy lifting on the nasties, and then he smoked us all!” He was breathing heavily, his rants pounding out like a jackhammer.
“Yeah, and CT, did you see how that blond bitch just stood around looking like a nOOb? Oh, until it was time for her to yank our stuff. Then she got to it!” WootWood was more sulking than angry now.
“How long ’til we re-spawn?” WootWood asked the question to avoid silence in their commiseration rather than out of need for an actual answer. His onboard clock was only a thought away.
“Twelve minutes and twenty-three seconds; then we’re gonna track them down and put the hurt on!” CootThis pointed down one of the tunnels. “You heard them-they’re going for the spunnel.”
“When we catch up, Spookle will turn on ’em, and then we’ll have ’em outnumbered!” WootWood punched into the soft living sponge of his seat. “He better turn! I can’t believe he went with those pissers. We oughta kick his ass real-time for pulling that!” WootWood stood up, his fists and jaw clenched.
“And what’s with that pisser playing cross-gender like a deviant? I wouldn’t ’ave half minded getting fragged by a hot witch bitch, but then I come up and see that guy? Damn!”
“Yeah, I was like, ‘Hey, I’d pump that,’ and then pow! The chick’s got a scrote! That’s some serious misrepresentation bullshit!” WootWood exclaimed.
“It’s the deviants you need to watch out for,” chimed in GoodLookin. “Don’t know what they’ll do. Bottom line is he took us down easy. If we’re gonna bring the hurt, we can’t go in rough-rider. We need a strategy, eh?”
“Let’s start with defense then,” CootThis said. “What are we gonna do about that witch, wizard, or whatever it is-and that ice spell? I don’t have my potion of cold resistance; they pinched it.”
“I say we-” WootWood’s voice suddenly broke off, and his eyes widened. “Oh flip! Oh flip! I’ve got a ping from the Divine Authority!”
“The wha’?” CootThis looked distracted.
“The flippin’ Divine Authority! They’re pinging me.” WootWood was pale in the light of CootThis’s UV torch.
“Wha’?”
“Are you stupid? What did I say?” WootWood was breathing fast now. The heat drained from his face, and he felt like he had just swallowed a glass of acid.
“NOOb, don’t leave them waiting!” CootThis wrung his hands.
WootWood closed his eyes to concentrate on the blink. After a pause he said, “Shit, they want to know about the girl. Gotta be that doe-eyed blond bitch.”
“What about her?” GoodLookin asked.
“Look at me! Do I look like I know? Shit, maybe this is about-” WootWood paused as his eyes darted about as though his optic nerves had been cut.
“What? What did you do?” CootThis asked, fear in his voice.
“I dunno, I might’ve touched her ass. You know, just brushed it.” WootWood’s jaw was slack.
“NOOb, shut up! You cupped her ass? Don’t even think that shit! They can scan your brain. I think they can scan your brain. You gotta calm the flip down and get back to ’em before they think something’s up.” CootThis shoved WootWood’s shoulder.
WootWood took a deep breath and was quiet while CootThis sped up his pace, keeping his eyes on his friend who looked like he was going to fall off his seat.
“I don’t blame him,” GoodLookin chuckled. “That ass was shapely.” This remark earned him a hard look from CootThis.
WootWood’s eyes opened, and he looked up at the others. “Shit, I gave ’em the archive of everything with the girl.”
“All of it? Even the ass cup?” GoodLookin was smiling.
“Yeah, what was I gonna do? I don’t want an angel coming down here and reformatting my ass.”
The interview had been profitable. Katria had always found it amusing to remotely interview subjects. When playing law enforcement grinder games, she came through blinks as an “official agent” of the Divine Authority. She commanded the bot to continue to track the demon, but she had it deploy a set of cameras before continuing on its way. The cameras were too small to be seen with the naked eye. Unfortunately, the nanocomponents that made up the cameras were complex and inherently unstable, and would therefore break down within minutes. However, this gave Katria enough time to watch the subjects as they squirmed. Of course, she did not need to watch them to detect deception. No, the unfiltered memories from the subject’s mind could not lie, and it was more than an interrogator from earlier times could have extracted after days of intensive grilling. It was seeing the panic on their faces that made watching them in real time worthwhile. She knew it was silly, the sort of human vice-among other reasons-that
made angels the first-string enforcers while humans were relegated to mere backup or support. Still, she had to have fun once in a while.
Besides confirming where the demon was headed, the interview had revealed another interesting data point. The demon had actually been playing a spanker game, which is why she was not caught in the initial sweep. And just as surprising, she was playing on the guest account of another player, common alias D_Light, a member of House Tesla, which was based over twelve hundred kilometers from there.
According to WootWood’s recent memories, there was now another player in their party, common alias Spookle, who was leading D_Light and the demon. Dialogue spoken near the interviewees before the demon and her friends left suggested that the runners were trying to leave via a nearby exit tunnel-a tunnel currently covered by one of Katria’s sniffer bots.
Nice work, Katria, said Rhemus, who had been monitoring her work in his periphery. Now, let’s query the spanker game for their location and end this.
Am I a nOOb? I already did that, snapped an irritated Katria. They’re no longer logged into NeverWorld-they’re not logged into any spank game.
According to the log from NeverWorld, her target had been kicked out of the game due to game death. They were now “ghosted” from that game’s perspective, and the game was not programmed to keep track of the identity of ghosts. For some reason, there was also a ton of other ghosts in the area, making it impossible to tell who was who.
My Soul, there’s a slaughter underway! Spankers gettin’ ghosted en mass! What the Soul is going on? Rhemus asked, vexation filtering in with the blink.
Shit, whatever, responded Katria. They got ghosted less than a minute ago, so they can’t be far from where they got licked. I’m sending all available bots to their last known location. They’re done like dinner.
CHAPTER 16
To be divine one must be true, and so it is, even for the OverSoul herself. She demonstrates her grace by being the first to admit imperfection. Even intelligence far outstripping our own-divine consciousness-is limited to the physical world, limited to the tools of the physical universe. And so it is that the Game, the software-based framework that organizes progressive humanity-the shepherd’s staff of the True One-is not perfect. And so it is our responsibility-no, I say our privilege-to aid the OverSoul by fixing the Game when we find flaws and by making improvements where we see opportunity.
I expect that most of you feel elated by this challenge, to serve the Eternal Purpose, which is good. There are others who are elated too, but for a different reason. You think you can fix what is not broken or improve what requires no development, not for the glory of all, but to benefit yourself. Be warned! No player can approach God’s work with an impure heart. She knows you better than you know yourself.
— Minister A_Dude, archives, “From the Pulpit”
As he walked, D_Light rummaged through his virtual backpack of magical items. There were various potions, a wand for controlling animals, an amulet he used to speak with the dead, and several spellbooks. It wasn’t like the old-school RPG games when you had all your inventory in a virtualized, easy-to-navigate list. In NeverWorld you had to actually find items as though you were in real life.
What a pain, he thought.
At last he found the ebony case he had been looking for, but it took him a minute longer of fiddling with the box before he remembered how to open it without setting off the trap. He peered inside at his most prized magical item. It did not look like much, just a rolled up piece of parchment, yet this scroll contained a very powerful spell. He had been saving it for an emergency, something to save his ass when all else failed.
He took the scroll out of the box and gently slid it into his pocket for quick access.
Master, a sniffer bot is ahead. With a ping, Smorgeous loaded a visual of the bot.
D_Light had instructed Smorgeous to stay well in front, to scout the “real world” with explicit instructions to watch out for bots. Through the visual feed, D_Light watched the disc hovering just inside a wider tunnel.
“Stop, dwarf,” D_Light commanded.
The dwarf let out an exasperated sigh. “Mistress, your beloved escape tunnel is just around this corner.”
“There’s a heavy hitter there. We stop here for now.” D_Light had been so distracted by the appearance of the bot that he used the term “heavy hitter,” modern slang for a powerful nasty. D_Light saw his score pulse red as fifty points were deducted for not using fantaspeech. Smirking at D_Light, the dwarf must have noticed the slip.
The dwarf’s smirk persisted. “Verily I say unto you, mistress, you appear a fine specimen of your race. Perchance when this is all over, you and I-”
“Quiet, I’m trying to think,” D_Light interrupted.
“Besides, dwarf, I should think your taste runs more to the short and portly.”
Through Smorgeous’s visual, D_Light watched the bot long enough to decide it was not going to move. Covering the exits, D_Light thought. Not particularly creative, but a good move nevertheless.
After a long pause, D_Light asked, “This is the Corrupted Lands, correct?”
The dwarf gave him an exasperated look as though he were the biggest nOOb in NeverWorld. “Uh, yes mistress.”
“And it is the domain of Queen Pheobah and her abomination of a son, Salem?”
The dwarf winced and ducked down as though cowering. “We don’t say…We don’t say those names out loud! You could draw their attention,” the dwarf hissed. He then threw up his hands and whispered, “My gods, just let me go before you get me killed! I took you to the tunnel.”
“Soon, just have to get past this last nasty. Then, by gods, I’ll give you the gold my shieldmaiden carries. A user of magic such as myself far prefers magic over gold anyway.”
The dwarf did not look entirely convinced, but he held his tongue.
“Queen Pheobah…she is a demigod, then? Or merely a powerful devil?”
The dwarf took a step closer and whispered, “She is the undisputed ruler of the entire Corrupted Lands! Her son, the spawn of fear and hate, is even more sadistic than she.”
“Powerful then? You have met the pair?”
“Met them? Of course not! No mortal adventurer has set eyes on them and lived to tell the tale!” The dwarf ran his finger across his throat. “Please, mistress, can we move on?”
D_Light sighed to himself as he lifted out of his pocket the scroll of the powerful gateway spell. He looked over at Lily, who stood expressionless next to him, and muttered under his breath, “You owe me one.”
To release the spell, he unrolled the parchment and spoke the arcane word scrawled at the top. He then named the being to which he wished to open a gate. “Queen Pheobah of the Corrupted Lands,” he bellowed. The parchment was consumed in a fiery flash. A deep boom echoed and the ground shook while an enormous, blue, semitransparent oval gate spread out before them.
“What have you done?” the frantic dwarf shouted in disbelief.
Although Queen Pheobah, Mistress of the Corrupted and Demigoddess of Evil, was merely a software agent running in the larger NeverWorld software program, she did not know this.
Now, she lay perfectly still, staring straight up through the vastness of her high-domed ceiling. It was pure darkness in the queen’s lair, but nothing could be hidden from her ancient eyes. The only true darkness for the queen was in her own mind, dark corners she strove to forget. Memories of happier days. Fair memories tortured her far more than the parasites that had long ago infested her body, although such worms showed no evidence of their intrusion as her terrible beauty grew with every passing season.
Her son, Salem, was nearby, spinning out his eternity of time with ever-decaying pleasures. Prolific torture and feasting on the innocent had long since grown old for him. The closest thing to pleasant distraction he could muster now was to corrupt. He smirked and whispered to himself as he watched his prey through his great mirror. A little boy, a human one no older than seven,
cried himself to sleep. A week ago, Salem had visited this little boy and had given him a present, a great red ruby. He told the boy to give it to someone. The unlucky recipient of the gem was then devoured by Salem that very night, and the gem was returned to the boy, who was to give it to another the very next day. If the boy ever failed to give the gem away, Salem would devour his parents. It was a self-perpetuating plan of torture that was designed to be fail-proof.
The queen, on the other hand, wished she could feel and see nothing, to cease to exist, but that was not possible for a goddess such as herself. She desperately wanted to shut off all her senses, but when she scratched out her eyes, she could still see. And her eyes grew back anyway, more luminous and haunting than ever.
To be alone in her lair was the closest thing to relief that she could find. Alone, except for that cursed son of hers of whom she could not rid herself. She fed off his wickedness, a kind of power that sickened her even as she partook of it. But if she did not partake, she would receive instead a great hunger, a hunger of such heightened torment that even a god with an eternal will such as hers would do anything to sate it.
Imagine then what Pheobah, Queen of the Corrupted and Mother of Abomination, thought when a portal opened in her lair, right on the ground next to her outstretched porcelain feet. And on the other side of that portal was a mortal woman, clad in witch’s garb, peering in with an idiotic grin on her face.
The queen pondered what could be going on. Some rival deity laying a trap? No, she could not sense any other presence of any significance; only the stench of the human and her kind wafted through the portal.
Never mind, she thought. If this insect went to the trouble of barging in on me uninvited, she must have something foolish to say. I will receive her, and by the time she has finished blathering and begging for some favor, I will have had time to think up a proper place in hell to send her.
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