End Code

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  “I'm leaking air!” Cyren yells, and I see her ship spinning out of control.

  Xen takes care of the ship that I dodged and I swing around toward Cyren. I take a deep breath, pushing forward on my thrust control to race toward her.

  “I'm going to try something,” I say, attempting to keep my voice calm. “I'm going to need you to eject.”

  “I'll run out of air faster out there. That's game over. The only reason to eject is to limit the points that your attacker gets from the kill.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then take a deep breath.”

  I spin my starship so that her cockpit is above me. I do my best to match her speed and line us up perfectly. When I'm fairly certain I've done my math right, I slap my oxygen mask on and yell, “Now!”

  As she punches the EJECT button, I retract the glass casing of my cockpit. Her body is launched from her starship, directly toward me. I continue to calculate her trajectory, slowing the thrust of my starship a little to match her speed. Within seconds, she slams into my lap and throws her arms around me. I hit the button to close the casing and as soon as it seals, she sucks in a lungful of air.

  She looks up into my eyes, still a bit disoriented. “That was... that was...”

  “Pretty cool, right?” I say with a wink.

  She slaps my chest and says, “It was your fault that we even needed to try something like that.”

  I shrug my shoulders and say, “It was still cool.”

  My cockpit control board beeps a few times, letting me know that Xen killed the last two enemies. A congratulation appears in front of us all and a directional arrow points toward the docking bay on our mothership. When I touch down on the landing pad inside, both Cyren and I are awarded Koins. I select the log-out option and reappear inside DOTfun, standing in the lobby for the game.

  Xen and Cyren fade into existence next to me and Xen high-fives me. “That was great! We should play again tomorrow.”

  Cyren looks both amused and pleased by Xen's child-like excitement. “Let's see how our studies go first. We've still got a lot to do.”

  “But we're so close. I know it. If we can crack the nanomachine interface problems, I think we'll be able to initiate the read/write function. And if we can do that...”

  “We still have to iron out the upload anomalies. If any data is rerouted, it could cause a complete breakdown when the code is recompiled.”

  I squint my eyes, trying desperately to keep up as their conversation descends into an abyss of technobabble. I have no idea what any of this has to do with their study of religion and philosophy, but they both seem so passionate about it, that I accept what they're saying, nodding my head like I understand. I'm so invested in their back-and-forth that I don't notice the PCs stomping toward us.

  “You cheated!” one of them says, thrusting his finger into Cyren's face. His body is made of opaque, fogged glass. “What did you do, hack the game? Run a memory editor? If you found an exploit, I want to know about it.”

  “Hey,” I say to the PC, stepping between him and Cyren. “Back off. Nobody cheated. You just lost.”

  “I've been playing this game since day one, and I ain't seen nobody who can fly like that or shoot like that. Nobody. She cheated, and I want to know how.”

  Xen remains calm as he walks away, saying, “Let's get out of here.”

  I hesitate, but take a step to follow him. When I do, the PC reaches into his inventory and pulls out a switchblade.

  He twirls the blade in his hand and says, “Nobody's going anywhere until I get some answers.”

  I should have known he might be armed with a denial of service script. The fact that he knows what a memory editor is should have tipped me off that he's at least a script kiddie. That little blade will bypass any PvP rules there are in the lobby. I make the dumb decision to draw my own weapon and everything goes wrong. As soon as my battleaxe and shield appear, the PC's friends draw their own weapons. Cyren matches them by extending a long, thin blade from her armored forearm.

  All of us start swinging. Xen dodges, trying to back away from the melee. One of the PCs swings a machete at me, but I'm able to block it with my shield and sink my battleaxe into his thigh. It's enough to log him out and send a flurry of spam-casts to his E-Womb. Cyren decapitates one PC, but as I drive my battleaxe deep into the back of another, the PC with the opaque glass avatar sticks his switchblade into Cyren's chest. We all stop as her avatar glitches for a few seconds, then she pulls the blade out and tosses it to the floor.

  “How did you...? That's impossible,” the PC says, stumbling backward. “What are you?”

  I swing my battleaxe before he can say anything else and his avatar disappears. When the fight is over, Xen tugs on my arm and silently motions with his head at the crowd that's formed around us. They may have initially stopped to watch some hackers duel it out, but now they're all staring at Cyren.

  01110011

  I'm working on the design of my private chat room when I receive a request to enter from Fantom, Worlok, and Anna-log. I punch the accept button and the three of them appear next to the fireplace in the loft apartment that's under construction.

  Worlok glances around and says, “This is kind of boring, even for you.”

  “I'm trying to recreate the home that Cyren and I shared in...” I stop, unsure of why I'm explaining myself to him. “You know what? Never mind.”

  “Where is Cyren?” Fantom asks.

  “She's with Xen in DOTgod. They're still working on... whatever it is they're working on. Why? What's going on?”

  Fantom plops down on the couch in the middle of the room and says, “We got a problem, yo.”

  She opens a screen in front of her, enlarges it, then swipes it toward the rest of us to share the view. The screen hovers over the coffee table, displaying a news-cast already in progress. A boringly-designed, angular news-caster sits behind a desk with potted plants on either side of her. As she speaks, other smaller screens appear around the main screen to show recorded footage from NextWorld. One of them shows a Level Zero that I recognize from DangerWar 2 named Wyre.

  “-sources have confirmed the identity of the man as a Non-Player-Character. When scanned, his username was being blocked by illegal programs usually associated with cyberterrorists.”

  I glance at Fantom but her eyes are locked onto the screen.

  “Although DOTgov security assured us here at DigiNews that the situation was under control and nothing more than a small error in NextWorld programming, eyewitnesses have sent the following video to us. Please be aware that this all happens in a non-PvP site.”

  Another screen appears above her main screen. It shows a familiar barbarian Level Zero shoving a group of men in a DOTsoc bar.

  “We were forced to mute the video because of the use of vulgar language, but it appears that the large blond avatar is upset the other four men were abusing the NPC bartender. He argues with them for a moment about their use of the word 'NPC' right before...”

  The barbarian draws a massive sword from his inventory and the men back away. He roars into the air like an enraged lion and lifts the sword above his head.

  The video pauses and the news-caster says, “We want to warn you that what you are about to see may be disturbing to some viewers.”

  The video plays again and the barbarian lops off the head of one of the men with one swing of his sword. It rolls across the floor before his avatar disappears. Another of the men leaps over a table, but the barbarian chases after him. As the chase continues through the crowd, the news-caster pauses the video and highlights the bartender in the corner of the screen.

  “You can clearly see the NPC bartender push a button on the wall to alert DOTgov security, like it was programmed to do.” The video fast-forwards for a few seconds. “It takes a moment for DOTgov security officers to respond, but what we found interesting is what happens next.”

  The officers teleport into t
he bar and the crowd opens up, moving to the sides to give them room. The barbarian doesn't notice them, still in some kind of berserker rage. He tosses a table to the side to get closer to the man he's pursuing and thrusts his sword at him, impaling the man's avatar. As the avatar is logged-out, the DgS officers rush toward the barbarian.

  One of the officers yells, “User name: unknown. Please disable your illegal encryption, all access countermeasures, and any personally programmed software so that we may flag your account and log you out immediately to be processed IRL.”

  The barbarian looks confused by the sight of the two officers rushing toward him. He instinctively raises his sword in a defensive motion, but the officers dive underneath it and wrap their hands around the barbarian's bulging calf muscles.

  Nothing happens.

  The barbarian swings his sword at one of the officers on the floor and the avatar is cut in half.

  The other officer rolls to the side and yells into the air, “We need backup!”

  Multiple officers teleport into the bar and the original officer yells, “My log-out touch isn't working!”

  Four officers cautiously approach, feigning a lunge at the barbarian to force him to swing his sword. He falls for it, and when the sword sinks into the wood wall, the officers attack. Eight hands latch onto his body, but nothing happens. The barbarian throws his arms wide, tossing the four officers off him and they tumble across the barroom floor.

  I see another officer swipe open a detection screen. Information scrolls across the display and the officer steps backward.

  “That's not a PC.”

  Another officer looks over their shoulder and says, “What are you talking about? Of course it is.”

  “No, it's not. That's an NPC!”

  Another officer scrambles to their feet and yells, “Switch to deletion!”

  The officer's hands change from a glowing red light to a glowing blue light, and they surround the barbarian. He holds his sword at the ready, and when the group of DgS move to pounce on him, he manages to slice through two of them in one swing. But three other officers manage to latch on.

  His avatar disappears.

  The news-caster continues to talk. I barely hear her mention a public outcry against the bug that's running rampant through NextWorld's NPCs and the inevitable press conference later today where Global President Chang will address the issue specifically.

  Worlok throws his hands up with exasperation. “What did I tell you? We give those things the tiniest bit of freedom and they run around like maniacs. They're going to bring down our whole operation.”

  “They aren't maniacs,” Anna-Log says. “They're just sticking up for themselves. You would've done the same thing.”

  “Running around DOTsoc slicing up PCs for picking on a bartender? No. And you know why? Because I'm smarter than that.”

  Anna-Log smirks and says, “So you keep trying to tell everybody...”

  “I understand the importance of anonymity,” Worlok continues, ignoring Anna-Log's comment.

  “That's weird, because I'm pretty sure everyone in the hacker community knows you. I'm also pretty sure you were locked inside a mind prison after you broke into the Trash Bin, and that's after years of being on the DgS's most wanted list. Your avatar might not have a face, but your profile doesn't sound too low to me.”

  “You don't know what you're talking about, kid.”

  “I'm not a kid!”

  Anna-Log and Worlok's yelling reaches a climactic level of bickering and their words mix together into an inaudible argument. But no matter the volume, it never penetrates the barrier of disbelief that I'm trapped inside of. I stare at the floor, trying to consider my next move carefully. But I keep getting lost in the whirlpool of my own thoughts.

  Fantom grabs onto my arm, yanking me back into the present. “I think you need to contact Cyren, yo.”

  I nod my head and say, “I think you're right.”

  01110100

  “They deleted him?”

  Cyren's hands are shaking. She clasps them together, trying to stop them, but it's uncontrollable. She's scared. I wrap my arms around her, trying in some way to comfort her, but it's useless. The pain is on the inside.

  “He shouldn't have started such a scene,” Worlok says, crossing his arms and leaning against the fireplace. “What did he think would happen?”

  I glare at him, trying to make him shut up without using words, but with his faceless avatar, I can't tell if he notices me.

  Anna-Log looks up from the news-cast screen she has in front of her and says, “The Global President is about to start his press conference.”

  “That barbarian was crazy,” Worlok says. “And now we have to face the consequences of his craziness. Excuse me if I don't have the time to mourn the loss of someone who may have jeopardized the safety of the NPCs we hacked... something I was against doing in the first place.”

  Cyren breaks free from my hug, pushes me away, and stomps across the room toward Worlok with her fists clenched. “You don't know anything about him! He saved my life, and Arkade's life, more than once when we were trapped in the game world. We owe him everything.”

  “She's right,” I say, much more calmly than her, trying to sedate the interaction. “He was a good man.”

  Worlok just laughs. “He was a raging lunatic! He chopped down those PCs like he was in a video game. Like they were...”

  His voice trails off as he glances at Cyren.

  She's crying, but through her whimpering she says, “Say it. Say what you were thinking. He chopped them down like they were NPCs.”

  Worlok actually hesitates, but he finally says, “Well, it's true.”

  Cyren's armored fists clench even tighter, forming large metallic balls, her jaw sets as her teeth grind together, and her eyes close into slits of furious anger. I don't have time to stop her.

  Her blade extends from her arm instantly and she swings it directly at Worlok. He manages to duck in time, and the edge of the blade slices across the stone fireplace, sending sparks spraying across the room. She pulls back her arm to swing again, but this time Fantom grabs onto her wrist. Cyren's head turns toward Fantom, her eyes burning, but when she sees Fantom shaking her head, her body relaxes.

  “What is wrong with you?” Worlok shrieks. “Are you all like this?”

  Fantom punches him squarely in the middle of his faceless head. He falls backward, landing hard on the floor.

  Anna-Log laughs and says, “I think you just bring it out in people.”

  Cyren covers her face as the tears return. Her armor shakes as she descends into open weeping.

  “It wasn't his fault,” she says, sniffling and trying to wipe her eyes with the back of her gauntlet. “He couldn't help it. He learned so much. He grew so much. He evolved! But that programming was still there. The barbarian. The berserker rage. It was what the designers wanted him to be.”

  Worlok grumbles something to himself before he says, “We shouldn't have given any of you the ability to hurt someone if you're programmed with that kind of temper.”

  “We're not perfect,” she says in little more than a whisper. “We're not robots. You can't expect us to be this infallible entity that never messes up. We have fears and anger and sadness. We have emotions... and sometimes those are going to outweigh our logic.”

  “Great,” Worlok says. “But that doesn't make me feel any better about what you're all capable of.”

  “This argument is pointless, yo.”

  “She's right,” I say, using Fantom's cue to change the subject. “We need to figure out what we're going to do next.”

  “The same thing we should have been doing this whole time,” Worlok says. “Lay low. This whole problem is because the NPCs drew too much attention to themselves. If we stay calm and don't push our luck, the public and DOTgov will probably forget this ever happened.”

  “I don't think that's going to happen,” Anna-Log says, swiping her news-cast screen toward us to share
the display.

  The screen enlarges so we can all see Global President Chang's avatar, already on stage in the middle of his press conference. His smile portrays confidence, not happiness.

  He pounds his fist on the podium a single time and says, “That's why I'm here to announce today the Non-Player-Character initiative. Too long have we allowed these programs to go unchecked. Too long have their designers been allowed to create artificial intelligence without any government oversight.”

  He grips onto the podium with both hands and says, “Starting tomorrow, DOTgov security officers will initiate a system wide mass-deletion of all existing Non-Player-Characters. Even though only a small percentage of Non-Player-Characters seem to have been infected, this complete deletion will allow the public to rest easy in the knowledge that the virus has been completely eradicated.”

  He widens his arms like a grandfather who's ready to accept a hug from the entirety of NextWorld. “And then we will start fresh. With new laws and new restrictions on the creation of artificial intelligence. I will personally create a brand new agency that will oversee all Non-Player-Character coding. And of course, copies of these programs, once deemed safe, will be made available for sale to the public.”

  I'm ready to tell Cyren not to worry. We'll fight this. We'll fight them. We'll fight all of DOTgov if we have to. But when I turn around, she's sitting in the corner with her entire body crumpled into a ball of fear. I race over and hold her, unable to find words that could erase the look in her eyes.

  “He can't do this,” Anna-Log yells, glancing at Fantom for some kind of assurance that she's right.

  Fantom shrugs her shoulders. I can tell by the look on her face, that maybe for the first time in her life, she's helpless. Like the monster we now face might be too big for even us to fight.

  Anna-Log says it again. “The Global President can't make a law like that... Right?”

  It's Worlok that answers her.

  “Kid, I think he just did.”