“No,” Eyekon says. “It's your government. It's the ones that think they run this world.”
I try to stop the arguing in hopes we can get back on track. “What DOTgov is doing is wrong. No one here is questioning that.”
Xen pleads with all of us, saying, “That doesn't mean that the punishment for their crimes should be death. I've been as close to death as you can get. I'll never agree to that. I'll never agree to end someone's life.”
Eyekon plants his hands on the table and stands up, leaning over the edge. “Even if that means condemning us to death? Your inaction is the same as pulling a trigger. Do you understand that?”
Xen looks fearful of the verbal attack. I'm about to stand up for him, to step between the two combatants and try to calm everyone down, but it's Cyren who places her hand on Eyekon's. He pulls it away, but when he looks at the sadness in her eyes, he sits back down.
“There was a time you felt differently about death,” she says softly. “There was a time that we all did. A time when we thought the fear of death made us more human.”
He casts off the idea with a wave of his hand. “We were children. We didn't know any better. We thought being human was the goal, the end game. But we're not human. We were never meant to be human. We're something else entirely.”
“He's right,” Grael says. “The surface of their true potential has only been scratched. Their existence is more important than any one man.”
“So you agree with Worlok?” I ask. “You think that the end justifies the means?”
Grael shrugs his shoulders, still afraid to give me a definitive answer, though I can tell he's made up his mind.
“We're wasting time,” Eyekon says. “Digital-Characters are being deleted while we sit here and debate.”
“Then let's put this to a vote,” I say.
“Does a vote matter?” Anna-Log asks. “Even if we disagree with Worlok, he seems pretty determined to follow through on his threat.”
“No matter how much arrogance he spouts off,” Fantom says, “without our help, he'll never be able to pull off the hack by himself.”
On cue, screens pop-up in front of Anna-Log and Fantom, flashing warnings. Both of their faces turn from a look of confusion to pure shock in a matter of seconds.
“He did it,” Fantom mumbles as she scrolls through the data in front of her. “I can't believe he did it.”
The rest of us wait for an answer to the unsaid question, but both of them just keep opening more screens, accessing different data.
“What's going on?” I blurt out.
Fantom holds up one finger, then immediately returns to scrolling and button pushing. We watch their faces as they continually switch between determination and fear. Finally, they both stop at exactly the same time when they find whatever information they were looking for deep in the system.
“He let them go,” Anna-Log says, the words escaping with a gasp of air.
“Who?” Xen asks, but before either of them can answer, I already know what they're going to say.
“The rest of the cyberterrorists.”
Fantom nods at me, confirming my fear. “All of them,” she whispers. “He freed them all.”
01111000
When my eyes blink open and I see the inside of the glass E-Womb, I'm sick to my stomach. I'm still trying to catch up with the state of events happening around me as I push the lid open. I see Xen crawling out of his E-Womb below me and he lends me a hand to help me get down. I glance over to the menu screen that Fantom, Anna-Log, and the rest of Sektor are huddled around arguing. I don't see Worlok anywhere.
“This is bad... isn't it?” Xen asks.
“I don't know.” I say before I feel the need to dismiss my ambivalence. “Yeah. Probably.”
“How bad?”
“I don't know. These people, these hackers locked up in here, they could be like Sektor. Just trying to snoop around, test the boundaries of security, maybe do some good.”
“Or?” Xen asks, knowing there's another side.
“Or they could be black hats. Chaotic hackers that are out to ruin NextWorld sites for cheap thrills. Or worse... they could be actual cyberterrorists. The extremists that want to bring NextWorld to its knees.”
We hustle over to the group and try to find out what's happening, but the arguing isn't decipherable. It's a bunch of techno-babble that neither of us understand. Fantom breaks out from the mass of bodies and tugs on my arm, leading us away from the group.
“He's got the upper sections blocked off, yo. Him and all the people he broke out are locked up nice and safe.”
“Can't you... I don't know, just hack through?”
Fantom rolls her eyes. “Doesn't work that way IRL, Cowboy. The place is physically locked up.”
“How did he do this?” Xen asks. “How did he free all of them and get everyone up there so fast?”
“He used the worm virus again. Same as he did before. Except this time he used thirty or forty of them, all at once. He deleted all the mind prisons and walked the prisoners right into the protected sections. This wasn't an impulsive thing, yo. He must have set it up as some kind of contingency plan. It was too well orchestrated, happenin' all at once so that we wouldn't have time to react.”
I rub my temples as I try to understand his motives. “We hadn't even decided whether we would help him or not.”
Fantom shakes her head and says, “I don't think he had much faith in that happenin', yo. Besides... I'm not sure this was a bad thing. We know they're security experts. They at least have enough knowledge to pose a threat to DOTgov. And no matter what we decide to do, no matter what direction we take, we're goin' to need more people on our side than we have. We need more than Sektor. More than the DCs that are still left... We need an army. And that's what he just made.”
“I'm surprised he was willing to go this far just to save the Digital-Characters,” Xen says.
Fantom chuckles, but her smile disappears quickly. “This has nothin' to do with them, yo. He was only usin' that as leverage to get me to hand over the code for my hack. He wanted a shortcut on figurin' out how to make whatever kind of weapon he's got brewin' in his mind. He always looks for the shortcut. Even now, when he's tryin' to get what he's always wanted: Respect. Instead of earnin' it, instead of puttin' the time and effort into treatin' other people with the respect he wants in return, he's gonna point some killer software at the Global President and demand it.”
“Cyren told me not to trust him,” I say. “She told me that freeing him was a mistake. But I thought I owed him for helping us. I thought it was the right thing to do.”
“We all trusted him at one point or another, yo.”
I gnaw on my lower lip with my toothless gums and rub my hand across my bald head, hesitating to say what I'm thinking.
“We never voted on whether to allow him to do this or not. I mean, what if this is the only way to save Cyren.”
Xen looks at me with sad eyes as he says, “You know she wouldn't want this. You know she'd sacrifice herself a thousand times over if it meant stopping you from killing someone.”
“That doesn't necessarily mean it's the right decision. Sometimes I think... her life is more important than mine.”
Fantom shakes her head and says, “Look, we don't know for sure that he freed all these people to build this weapon. Cyberterrorists or not, they're experts in NextWorld programmin'. Maybe they can come up with a solution that we haven't thought of...”
“I don't trust Worlok,” I say, “but you're not wrong. We have no idea who they are, or what side of this they stand on. If we could just talk to them...”
“I was droppin' back doors in Worlok's usual hangouts back when we were partners. We can try those first. See what we can find, yo.”
I nod my head and say, “See you inside.”
As I walk toward the E-Wombs, Xen tugs on my arm, looking bashful, hesitant to say what he wants to say.
“I... I think what Cyren and I
have been talking about might be of some use. If we're right about our eternal soul and their digital soul being one and the same-”
“Xen,” I say, holding up my hand but trying to be as soft spoken and as far from condescending as I can be, “We don't have time for this right now. I promise, when this is all over, I'll sit down with the both of you and listen.”
“But-”
“Every second counts,” I say with a smile.
I give him an encouraging slap on the shoulder and jog toward the E-Womb. He lags behind, but eventually follows me and crawls into an E-Womb below mine. I slam the lid shut and eagerly say, “Log-in.”
01111001
One week passes and we're still searching for Worlok. Another two hundred DCs that I saved from DangerWar 2 are deleted. We try to fight back, both defensively and offensively. Half of Sektor actively seeks out the roaming deletion teams, using the guns that Fantom and Worlok designed to give them the upper hand in battles. The rest of the hackers constantly move the DCs from site to site, trying to make it harder for the DgS to locate them. But we all know we're only postponing the inevitable. We need a solution.
Cyren, Xen, Anna-Log, Grael, and I follow Fantom through her old back doors, searching all of Worlok's hidden sites, checking them off our list one-by-one. It's a painstaking process, searching each one for any sign that he may have been there recently, or any clues as to his current whereabouts.
Finally, we find a list of words written on the wall of one of his personal chat rooms. The list contains combinations of phrases that appear to be possible site names that he was considering. Some of them are linked to sites we've already checked, but when Cyren calculates all the combinations, she creates a new list of possibilities.
Another list.
Another week.
Another one hundred DCs lost.
I can see the strain on Cyren's face as we check off each site. We all know what each failure means for her kind. But there's nothing I can do to help her besides march forward, toward our goal. It's a helpless feeling that I hate. Every time this feeling of uselessness overwhelms me, I catch myself fiddling with the gun in my holster, wanting nothing more than to return to a world where there is one solution.
Aim. Shoot. Kill.
But eventually the list grows shorter, and as we near the end, one of the names returns a successful ping inquiry. Fantom opens ten to fifteen screens in front of her, her hands slashing from one to the other, activating different protocols simultaneously.
“How are we going to get in without a back door?” Xen asks.
Fantom's lips curl upward on one side as she says, “I've known Worlok a long time. Guessin' his password won't be a problem.”
It takes Fantom nearly an hour, but as Xen, Grael, Cyren, and I sit in an empty, underground corridor of DOTnet, she waves her hand in the air a final time. The bricks that make up the wall separate and a glowing door appears. We all grip onto our weapons and step through the doorway.
On the other side, we see what looks like an ancient Greek bathhouse. White walls and white pillars surround a massive pool of water. But the opulence and elegance has been covered by vulgar graffiti and the floor and pool of water is covered in trash files that someone was too lazy to delete. Hundreds of avatars lie around, lazily scrolling through menu screens, indulging in inebriation software, or absentmindedly destroying part of the room. Loud, angry music echoes through the chamber.
I barely have time to take it all in before I hear the hammers of guns click into position all around us. I glance out of the corners of my eyes and see twenty barrels pointed directly at our heads.
“Wait.”
I look toward the direction of the voice and see Worlok floating in an inflatable tube in the middle of the trash strewn pool of water. He fumbles a bit, paddling his arms toward the edge of the pool and awkwardly climbing out. He doesn't rush, taking his time to meander through the crowd of men and women who only take notice of us for a few seconds before returning to whatever is occupying their boredom.
“I'm impressed, I suppose. I thought it might take you longer to find me.”
“We're not here to fight,” Xen says. “We just want to talk.”
“You don't want to fight? Well, I'm glad you can count,” he says, motioning toward the guns pointed at us. “A bit outnumbered, aren't you?”
“Worlok, you never gave us a chance to decide how we felt about your plan,” Anna-Log says. “You never gave us a chance to see if there was any other option.”
“And did all your talking help you come up with another option? No? That's because there is no other option.”
I have to refuse the idea. “We need to brainstorm. With this many hackers, we could... we could...”
“What? What could we do? Break into the Trash Bin again? Get caught? Get locked up in another mind prison? No. I don't think so. It's time we showed DOTgov that we're a threat. Not just in NextWorld, but IRL as well.”
“Do you understand what it is you're doing?” Grael asks. “If you kill the Global President-”
“Then NextWorld might understand that no one is safe,” Worlok shouts, throwing his hands upward like he's shouting at God. “They will have to recognize the power that I wield. They will understand that DOTgov doesn't make the decisions anymore. They will have to admit that it's the hackers that run this world.”
There's a general cheering across the room, however lackluster. The men and women he's gathered aren't exactly a unified front. They seem more interested in goofing off and destroying things than any kind of revolution. Maybe they aren't the threat we thought they were.
Fantom crosses her arms defiantly, but she looks tired, like she doesn't have the energy to argue anymore. “I'm sorry, Worlok, but I can't do it, yo. I can't help you. Not with a clear conscience.”
Worlok shrugs his shoulders. “You really are that naive, aren't you? I don't need you anymore, Fantom.” He holds his arms out, presenting the room full of cyberterrorists. “I have them. And they don't worry about annoying little details like clear consciences.”
“We'll stop you,” Cyren says. “The Level Zeros won't let you take a life. It's not in our programming. We were designed to save PCs.”
A mouth appears on Worlok's face, smiling his evil, toothy grin. “Oh... but you've grown so much since then. And I'm sorry for not mentioning it earlier, but these lovely men and women aren't the only ones on my side.”
He motions toward one of the clusters of avatars and as they turn around, I recognize at least twenty different Level Zeros and even more civilians.
Eyekon steps out in front of the group and says, “This is the only way, Cyren. You know it's true.”
“No,” she whispers, unable to achieve more volume than that. “You can't do this. We're supposed to be better than this.”
He looks disappointed in her. “And the only way we're ever going to have that chance is if we stand up for ourselves.”
“He's usin' you,” Fantom yells. “He's usin' all of you. He doesn't care about your freedom. He just wants to be in control.”
“Maybe they're using me,” Worlok says with a fluttering wave of his hand, as if he doesn't really believe what he's saying. “All they want is to be free, and if they help me, they get their prize.”
“You're giving the PCs more reason to fear us,” Cyren says to the group of Digital-Characters, ignoring the rest of us. “This will just be another reason for them to delete us. Please. Please don't help him do this. There's still time to-”
“Actually,” Worlok says, “there isn't.”
Reaching behind his back, he produces a solid black pistol and admires it for a few seconds.
“It took a lot of hard work. And getting this group organized wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done. But with the help of these NPCs...” He glances at Eyekon and says, “Sorry, Digital-Characters... we were able to break through the wall in our coding process. Combining the denial of service attack and slipping in a viral program
that stops the heart... it was shockingly easy.”
He points the gun right at my head and says, “Scary... isn't it?”
My heart skips at least two beats. My mouth goes dry. My eyes cross as I stare down the barrel, knowing that true death is waiting for me on the other end.
Fantom makes a move, but he waves the gun toward her, pressing the barrel against her forehead. “Now, now. Let's not make any sudden movements, shall we? As much as I want to test this thing out, I'd prefer to make a bigger statement with my first bullet than just killing a hacker and a couple of her gamer friends.”
He turns the barrel back toward my head and says, “Although... killing the legendary Arkade might draw some attention. Or would they call you the Game Master? The Super User? Either way, I'm pretty sure the news-casts would eat it up.”
Cyren spins around the gun aimed at the back of her head, curling around the cyberterrorist and slamming her hand into the bottom of Worlok's elbow. His finger jerks and the gun goes off, but the bullet skims past my head. Fantom twirls, firing as fast as her finger will twitch. Grael ducks behind a pillar, firing around the stone column. Anna-Log dives to the floor, rolling as she fires. Cyberterrorists disappear around me as I pull out my revolver. I nearly have the barrel pointed at Worlok's avatar when he lifts the gun again. My finger is squeezing the trigger when I hear his gun fire.
But instead of the bullet hitting me, instead of the pain or sudden blackness, I see a blur of orange robes launch past me.
My own gun fires before my brain registers what's happening. The bullet strikes Worlok square in the chest and he yells a string of curse words right before his avatar disappears. More gunfire ricochets around the room as Grael, Anna-Log, Fantom, and Cyren engage in a battle with the cyberterrorists. Bullets whiz past me, inches away from my avatar, but I barely notice. All I see is the crumpled avatar of Xen laying on the ground in front of me. I reach out for him, but before my hand touches him, his avatar disappears.
End Code Page 16