by Dante Doom
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Sang asked.
“Because the stress of knowing that you could potentially be dying inside of that thing would have been too much for you,” Neil explained. “The reality is that there was a very safe threshold for you, but you’d started to push it. You were close to the information, so we let you skirt the danger line, but when you went into shock... well, the higher-ups wanted this program put on pause, like yesterday. No holding off. The mere fact that you woke up without any speech impendent, and with functioning limbs, was considered a miracle after that exit; and on top of that, you’ve got some kind of code. Great. But if you go back in there, who knows what’s going to happen? You might die. We wanted you to think you were the hero and that we were ending the mission with a win, but the reality is that we have to halt until we can find someone to replace you.”
Sang had known something was up, and everything Neil said made sense... but then there was Van to consider. “I understand, Neil, I do. It makes sense. I suppose that I would have done the same if I was in your position. But the fact remains that Van is in trouble, and he needs me. If he can’t log out, they might kill him.”
“Why?” Neil asked. “Why would they kill the kid? Ban him, kick him out, post an embarrassing picture of him online, sure—but kill him? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Sang closed her eyes and remembered the words that had been spoken to her by whatever entity had contacted her. Draco like us. Hate us. Draco Kill. Those were the only phrases she’d understood from that entire flurry of communication, and she knew that she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit here while Van was in danger.
“Look, I don’t care what you think, or what you’re worried about. I know he’s in trouble. I’m going in there and you can’t stop me,” Sang said.
“You wanna bet?” Neil asked. “You honestly think that you can just get in there and find Van alone? Look, you’re not thinking right. You need sleep.”
Sang glanced at the gun that was resting on Neil’s hip. All of the agents had firearms on them, even in the building, just in case. His hand wasn’t anywhere close to the gun, but she wondered if he would pull it.
“Sorry, Neil, but you don’t have the right to tell me to stop,” Sang said as she strolled over to the pod and began to plug the cords back in.
“Hey, come on, enough!” Neil said as he walked over and grabbed her by the arm. She moved quickly—lunging up, headbutting him under the chin as she pulled his pistol out of its holster. She aimed it right at him.
“Whoa! Hey!” Neil said as he backed up, his hands in the air. “No reason to get any crazier than you already are.”
“Is Neil running his mouth again?” O’Hara asked casually as she walked into the scene, also with food occupying her hands.
“O’Hara! A little back-up here!” Neil said, pointing to Sang. She kept her gun trained on the man.
“Come on, Sang, take it easy,” O’Hara said. “Listen, we’ve all had the desire to shoot Neil at some point in our lives—hell, a few of us have even pulled our guns on him—but we’re not allowed to actually shoot him. Against our ethos. You don’t shoot fellow agents, no matter how much of a smartass they are.”
“I don’t want to shoot anyone,” Sang said as she slowly walked toward the pod. She reached back, not taking her eyes nor her aim off of Neil, and pushed the pod lid open. “I just want to get in here and save Van.”
“It’s going to kill you!” Neil shouted. “O’Hara, help me out here!”
O’Hara only shrugged. “Look, if she’s willing to pull a gun on you, it’s clear she’s past the point of reason. Just let her get in the damn pod already.”
“She’s going to die!” Neil cried.
“Why’s she going in there anyway?” O’Hara asked as she walked over to the computers and began to power up a few systems.
“Van’s still in there. He’s in danger,” Sang said, feeling a little relieved as the pod began to light up.
O’Hara looked at Neil and shook her head. “Like it or not, we don’t leave our own behind. Van’s a weasel and a dweeb, but if Sang cares enough to risk her life for it, he’s one of our own.”
“It’s not worth your life, Sang,” Neil pleaded. “You’re a star agent. One of the best and the brightest. If you die, it will be a tragedy among all tragedies. You haven’t heard the talk from the higher-ups. They’re impressed with your work. Frederick’s already talking about putting you back in the cyberterrorism division. You’re throwing away all of your potential. If Van dies… so what? He hasn’t done a damn thing with his life. No friends, no wife, no job. The best thing that could happen is that he dies doing what he loves, playing this stupid game.”
“And so, what?” Sang asked. “I’m worth more because I can do more? I contribute to society in a way that’s acceptable, and that makes me intrinsically more valuable than him?”
“You have more to lose than he does!” Neil reasoned.
Sang shook her head. “He matters, too. He’s a person, Neil. Not just a number or a statistic. And he also happens to be my partner right now. I already lost one partner, I’m not losing another. I’m going into the pod now, with the gun in my hand. If it opens up before I log out, I’m going to come out shooting.”
“You’re throwing everything away,” Neil warned as Sang laid on the pod’s table. It hissed as it slowly began to shut. “You’re throwing everything away, and for what?” he demanded.
Sang smiled as she felt the sharp sting of the haptic system plugging into her. “For redemption,” she whispered as everything around her went completely white.
Chapter Twenty-One
Van shifted nervously as he sat on the back of the massive Dragon. They were flying incredibly high—higher than he had ever gone before. He could see the entire continent below him, and while the view was breathtaking, he had no idea what was going on with Sang. There was no communication from anyone involved in the CIA team, and it was only a matter of time before he was going to get caught for being a filthy liar. He wasn’t very good at long term deception, having had no real experience in lying to people other than sometimes telling people that his uncle worked for Draco so that they’d believe his silly rumors. Trefor had been very silent. Without the ability to log out, Van was entirely at the mercy of the guy.
“We’re almost there,” Trefor said, smiling at Van. “You aren’t going to believe your eyes when we get there. It’s the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen.”
“Great, great,” Van said through gritted teeth. Each time he thought they were as high as they could go, the Dragon flew up even higher.
“We’re passing through a restricted area!” Trefor said as the Dragon ascended to a particular cluster of clouds. “You ready?”
Van held on tightly and he felt some kind of force press against his body as they flew through the restricted area. The Dragon effortlessly glided through and headed toward the clouds. As they got closer to the clouds, Van noticed that the fluffy white objects were nothing more than an illusion. Instead of clouds, there was a large silver platform with a massive building atop of it. The building seemed to arc all the way up into space. Van squinted as he looked at the towering structure. Its design seemed strange, even foreign. It looked like it was something that belonged in a space game—not in a fantasy world. There were numerous windows, the entrances were steel. It was perfectly polished, and he could see figures behind the windows, but couldn’t see any details.
“What is this place?”
“One of our observation stations!” Trefor said as the Dragon gingerly landed on the ground. It lowered its head and allowed Van and Trefor to climb off.
Van gazed up at the tower in wonder. He had never seen anything like this before, and he was genuinely surprised to see something like that in a fantasy game.
“Come over here—take a look at something,” Trefor said as he walked to the edge of the silver platform. Van followed along and glanced down. He coul
d see the entire continent itself, but it was covered with wires and circuits. Sparks of electricity shot across the continent every few minutes. He didn’t particularly understand what he was seeing, but it looked cool.
“We call this the Big Board. All of our programming abilities, our interactions, our event timings, our observations... we can see it all from here. That building? It’s full of programmers and professional gamers. People who are making a living. People who are going to be in the New World.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Van asked. He had been following the conversation, up until Trefor had said they’d be part of a New World.
“It’s curious, isn’t it?” Trefor asked as he sat down on the platform, letting his legs dangle over the continent. “How detailed this game is. What was the last VR game you ever played?”
“Oh, it was some crappy game—Starfighting and Lasers, I think it was called,” Van said as he sat next to the paladin. He gazed out at the brilliant yellow sun as it began to come into view. Morning was coming soon, and Sleep Time would be over. Maybe then he could get out of the game and away from all of this.
“And how realistic was it, compared to this?” Trefor asked.
“Not even close.”
“It’s crazy, right? I mean, I stretch my hand out, and I look at it and I feel it. I feel each and every sinew and fiber of my body. I stretch my arms and feel the tension released from the muscles. I breathe, and I experience the sensation of air coming in, despite the fact that I’m laying catatonic in a pod somewhere.”
“It is just short of a miracle,” Van replied.
“It is, it really is,” Trefor said. There was a short period of silence before he spoke again. “How do you think they built this game?”
“What?” Van asked.
“What company would have the resources to make a game this powerful? And think of the cost, too. I mean, even if you factor in the cost of the gear and the game subscription itself, you’re looking at people paying less than a few hundred a year for a world that is beyond realistic.”
“I don’t follow what you’re getting at, Trefor,” Van said.
“It’s just weird that some company, a company that no one has ever really dealt with before, would create something this… perfect. And then they turn it into a game? Strange, right?”
Van slowly nodded. “Yeah, now that you mention it, it is kind of strange.”
“What if I told you a secret?” Trefor asked. “Would you promise not to tell anyone?”
Van nodded, feeling a knot in his stomach.
“Draco’s not particularly… in the game business. They’re in the simulation business,” Trefor said. “And there’s a whole point to this, my friend. A whole point. And it’s not about leveling up or getting the next best gear.”
“What’s it about then?” Van asked.
Trefor grinned. “Survival. You notice what’s rewarded in this game more than anything? Leadership, teamwork. Survival skills. Politics. Not grinding, not loot grabbing, and definitely not spawn camping or player killing. No, this entire game is built for one reason, and only one reason: to find the strong.”
“Why?” Van asked.
“Well, it’s quite simple,” Trefor replied. “Draco isn’t just looking for some people who are incredible at playing a video game. They’re looking for real bona fide badasses. They’re looking for people they can depend on. This whole thing? It’s just one big test. A test to find those who are going to be the right kind of people for the job.”
“What job?” Van demanded. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Slow it down with the questions, buddy. I’m getting there. Here’s the deal: Draco wants the very best of the best, and they’ve developed this system to find them. A professional player is someone who Draco considers to be a worthy candidate. So, when players like myself are invited into the system, we end up learning a pretty interesting amount of information. We’re shown an awful lot. And I’m not going to lie—it was pretty scary when I first heard about it. It was disconcerting, even worrisome. But after I really looked at the pros and cons? After I heard the pitch and learned the story? Well… let’s just say I fell right into rank and file. Draco’s not just about games, Van. They’re about changing lives for the better. They’re here to change the world.”
“Okay, so they’re a good company to work for, I get it,” Van said.
“Work for? No! We work with them. Draco doesn’t want to be our overlords; they don’t want to tell us what to do. They want us to be a part of this great project. To change the world and see it brought to a new light,” Trefor said. His voice had grown startlingly convicted, and Van could see the excitement in the man’s eyes. Whatever the hell he was babbling about, Trefor had firmly bought into the ideas.
“I see... So, what, pray tell, does Draco want to do with this world? How do they want to change it?” Van asked, growing more and more uneasy.
Trefor just chuckled in response. “Come with me,” he said as he stood up and strolled back toward the massive building. The steel doors to the building slid open as Trefor approached, and then he walked right through. Van shrugged to himself and followed after. With him stuck inside the game and being thousands of miles up in the air, there wasn’t any way for him to escape such a situation easily. He just hoped that Sang would be able to contact him soon.
Despite his skepticism, Van gasped as he walked into the building. He could see that there were thousands of desks floating in the air, and there were thousands of people busy working at the desks. Upon each desk was a computer that didn’t look too different from the type that Van had; the workers were working with an intense fervor. Each one was sitting in a floating chair and paid no mind to the world around them. There were men and women, but they weren’t dressed like fantasy characters; rather, they wore the kind of clothes Van would see in an office setting. He couldn’t see their screens, but he wondered what it was they were doing. “Computers in a game?” Van asked.
“Well, Draco asked themselves a long time ago, why bother using a physical space? It’s a lot easier to have a decentralized workforce all logging in to the game and doing their jobs from here. I mean, look at how productive we are! Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Van said as he looked around at all of the employees.
“We’re doing some incredible things at Draco. Absolutely incredible. Follow me!” Trefor said as he walked through the building. It didn’t seem that there were any levels, as the floating desks just allowed all of the employees to be in one area. Trefor brought Van over to a large table. The table had a map on it, but it wasn’t for the content of Oirthear—rather, it was a map of Earth. Van cocked his head as he noticed numbers and percentages drawn out over each country.
“What is this?” Van asked. He could see the numbers changing in real time.
“This map shows the population of the earth,” Trefor replied. He waved his hand over the map, causing it to shift and change. Populations across all countries dropped significantly.
Van frowned. “So, what? I don’t get it.”
Trefor smiled widely. “Of course not. Let me spell it out for you, Van. Draco isn’t particularly interested in profit margins. They aren’t here to make the next fun game. They’re here to change this world and make it more fit for their presence. You see... our world, as of right now, is backwards, weak and foolish. Tell me, how many pointless wars have we started? They say that humanity has had a total of 290 years of peace in all of time. Can you imagine that? Only 290 years of peace! What a shame, that so many people die so needlessly! Then we have things like famine, greed, theft, slavery, needless imprisonment... And why? So that an elite few can reign supreme over the majority of the world. We’re kept in ignorance, poverty, and suffering. Humanity is sick, Van. And Draco’s the cure.”
Van frowned. The way Trefor was talking about Draco seemed different. He spoke as if Draco were more than just a simple gaming company...
Van glanced down again and noticed that there were strange symbols and pictures on the map—the same kinds of symbols that Sang had once showed him.
“This world must be cleansed, Van,” Trefor said as he turned and strolled toward a large display on the wall. The screen began to display a very strange picture. There was a large circular pod on the display screen. It was about the size of an asteroid. Van could see that the pod had four green windows on the front. It was a spaceship, he realized as he took note of the shape and complexity of the vessel.
“Draco has come to bring salvation to those who are worthy of it,” Trefor told him.
“That’s a freaking spaceship,” Van remarked with a hushed voice. He was starting to regret making jokes about aliens to Sang.
“Indeed, it is, my friend!” Trefor said. “A craft belonging to Draco. Our friends from another system.”
“Wait... What the hell? You mean to tell me that Draco is made up of a bunch of aliens?” Van asked, shaking his head. “You’re screwing with me—I don’t believe it.”
“You’re standing in a virtual reality simulation that has technological power that is one million times stronger than anything we’ve ever created on Earth—breathing, blinking, feeling—and yet you are the one who wants to tell me that you don’t believe that it’s possible, that highly advanced life from another galaxy has come and brought us this?” Trefor asked with a smirk. “You can’t be that dense.”
“I’m not dense! I’m just not crazy,” Van said.
Trefor smiled again. “I was skeptical at first. But then… then I started doing the math. Draco had no presence before this game, save a small test release they did a while ago. These pods just arrived at various malls and stores with zero ties to manufacturing. Never a single interview or PR move. Announcements all came through game forums. Technology so advanced that the military publicly offered 10 billion dollars for access to the pod technology, and yet they received pure silence from Draco. And then, of course, the Messengers from Draco have spoken many times to me. They aren’t like you and I, Van. They speak differently... understand differently. But they get our culture. Enough to know they have to save it.”