by Domino Finn
Legionnaires formed a shield wall before the open gate. A few agile goblins hopped over them safely, but most were cut down. The flow was only stemmed for half a minute before a large ogre barreled through the formation. The creature battered the soldiers like rag dolls.
Orik came to life. He crushed his attackers and heaved himself up. The pagans that had been crawling over him tumbled to the ground. A lone goblin was unlucky enough to cling to the rising giant. He hung on to Orik's hairy mane as long as he could before falling to his death.
At his peak, the cyclops towered over everything around him. Only Dragonperch, in the distance, reached the same height. The blind titan had been undamaged by his sloppy entry. His gaping eye cavity opened wide with his mouth and he screamed at the top of his lungs in defiance of the very city.
Centurions rushed past us in the streets. I didn't even bother hiding my face anymore. Everyone's attention was fixed on the big ugly.
"We need to hurry," said Kyle.
"You're right. Go get your supplies. We're gonna stop that thing ourselves."
"What about you?" asked Izzy.
"This is the mother of all distractions. Five times better than a black dragon melting statues. I need to get inside the Pantheon."
"You can't go alone," said Kyle.
I clenched my teeth. "I know. I'll just scout ahead. See what the guard looks like. When you two are finished shopping, meet me in front."
They nodded uncertainly.
"Bandit, stay with Kyle." The bongo tilted her head. I sped off before they could stop me.
I raced through the panicking crowd. This wasn't a siege anymore. It was a battle. The warfare would reach the Forum soon. The shops and the residences. Stronghold would be overtaken by little nasties. Maybe goblins weren't an incredible threat but they outnumbered us five to one.
I peered at the statues of the golden angels atop their Corinthian columns. Painted, pretty, but they weren't going to help us. This was a crisis to be solved by players. By me. A direct assault on the Oculus. That was the only way. I could take control of the system. Stave off the wipe.
MMO players in control of their own fates. It would be another RPG first.
A lot of approaches were possible. One thing I couldn't do was waste time. The entire city only had 12 minutes until the switch was flipped. I would have to act without Kyle and Izzy. Saying I would wait was a lie, and I think they knew it.
Bandit nudged me from behind. I shook my head. The damn girl was loyal to a fault.
"Fine," I said. "Let's go."
Surprisingly, there wasn't a single centurion on the portico steps. I considered climbing to the outside window I'd jumped out of before but decided to sneak to the front door and peek inside first.
The inner hall was empty too. In stark contrast to the rumbling and crashing and screaming outside, the inner hall was dressed in permanent calm.
I swallowed nervously. It was the perfect setup for another trap. I might step into the portico and walk into an ambush. Then again, Stronghold really was in trouble. I'd witnessed the centurions storming to the gate. I leaned against a patio column and considered my options. The stone itself trembled. I turned around and looked past the columns of angels and down the Forum, the road a straight shot all the way to the marketplace.
Orik lumbered around the corner. A contingent of centurions stabbed at his feet with swords and spears. He swiped heavy fists like wrecking balls. Their body shields were useless. The titan crushed any and all opposition. The best they could hope was to slow him down.
Orik knew it, too. That's why he was coming for the Pantheon.
The clock was literally ticking. I stepped inside the portico. Bandit's hooves echoed on the marble floor behind me, their click-clacking a violation of this holy place. Not a single guard rushed to intercept us. It was eerie, like breaking into a museum at night. The ultimate urbex. Except this was a simulation, the hub of Stronghold. Of all of Haven, for all I knew. And it was left completely unguarded.
That revealed how important stopping Orik truly was. Every last centurion and protector of Stronghold was marching to their deaths, hoping to keep the titan from the Pantheon until the reboot.
And I was gonna help the pagans stop it.
I gritted my teeth and headed forward, through the double doors to the inner Pantheon. The rendering went black as we zoned. A blink later, the rotunda appeared. Silence overtook us. No cries of death. No stomping giants. A whisper was too loud for this place.
The large dome sprawled overhead. Even though it was nighttime, a beam of light shone in from the oculus above. This zone wasn't actually connected to Stronghold. A bird couldn't fly in from the outside. That wasn't sunlight charging the air. It was a pure data stream, visualized as life itself.
Bandit and I approached the altar. The room was empty. The control panels, the Oculus, gleamed before us, bathed in a beam of warm yellow. As I rounded the altar, Saint Peter stepped out from an alcove in the wall.
"Tod Lonnerman," he announced, setting me on edge.
I huffed in annoyance. "It's Tad."
0450 A Link to the Past
Saint Peter strolled forward, hands folded under a cream robe marred only by the stripe of maroon from neck to toe.
"Tad," repeated the saint. His bushy eyebrows eased under the crown of woven gold twigs. "It is a name I should remember by now. You've certainly caused enough trouble."
"What is this, an ambush?"
Bandit snorted. I think she was trying to be tough.
"Ambush? This isn't a fight, Tad. I just needed to confirm you were a part of this. I had my suspicions but I didn't know for sure. In truth, I still don't know why."
There were 9 minutes left on the clock. "You need to stop the reboot," I said.
"Impossible."
"We can fight the titan. We can drive back the pagans."
Saint Peter scoffed. "You most assuredly cannot."
"Stronghold was founded on defeating them," I reasoned. "The Eye was harnessed against the pagans. In the Dragon Wars that followed, heroes rose up and defended the town."
"Heroes." Saint Peter snorted. "Magnus Dragonrider never existed. Those 'centuries' you speak of never happened. Haven's simulation has been live less than a year. Everything else is background history and color. Believe me, Tad, that broken statue might hold a genuine relic, but true heroes like him are nothing but dust and legend."
I clenched my jaw. There was a difference between fantasy and reality, even here. I knew that. But Haven was a digital reality. "Orik's real enough," I said.
Saint Peter crossed his arms. "Orik's supposed to be part of a level 100 town quest a few years down the road. All the cities have titans, but they aren't supposed to be bearing down on a bunch of hapless noobs."
His anachronistic speech made me frown. The devs were taking this seriously.
"It was an accident," I admitted. "I didn't mean to awaken him. Lucifer tricked me."
"Big surprise, there. They do call him the father of lies."
"You think your white robes make you so innocent? You've lied more than he has."
"What are you—"
"I'm still alive, asshole."
Saint Peter slowly brought a hand up and stroked his white beard. His face had gone ashy to match.
"That's why I broke into the Pantheon," I told him. "I didn't care about the pagans or Orik. I didn't even know the Eye existed. All I wanted was to find out the truth. Are the personnel records right? Am I still alive?"
The old man frowned. "Yes," he finally said softly. "You weren't supposed to live."
"But I did!" I barked. "Derek needs to know. He's my brother."
I suddenly realized Everchat was available here. The rotunda was an instance, a separate zone, buffered from the rest of Haven.
"I need to talk to him," I said.
I opened my menu and swiped to the chat interface. Saint Peter glanced warily at a slowly approaching Bandit. The mountain bongo could be
a menacing animal when she wanted to be. "You can't do that, Tad."
"I need to."
My breath froze as my contact list opened. Derek had accepted my contact request. I clicked the button to hail him.
"Tad."
Saint Peter moved to stop me. I whipped my spear to his neck. He grimaced at the point.
"This is a bad idea..."
I ignored him and watched the spinning icon in the chat interface. A message underneath read, "Hailing Derek. Awaiting a response."
I wondered how it worked. A video chat would be a mobile app. My brother was in the real world somewhere. Hopefully he had his cell phone on him. He might be able to respond within seconds.
"Think about what you're doing," Saint Peter urged. "You think it's only been a day since your accident?"
I ripped my eyes away from the spinning icon. Took a moment to process his words. "I woke up this morning," I said dumbly.
"Yes, but how long ago did you actually die?"
"I didn't die."
"Semantics," he announced. "Two months, Tad. It's been two months since your Portland car accident."
I checked the date on my profile bar. It didn't conform to a real date. The year was good, but the day was just a three-digit number without a month.
"Do the math," he said. "Thirty days to a month, more or less. That number's the day of the year."
My voice tinged with anger. "What did you do to me?"
"It was a mistake. It wasn't planned. It just happened. Uploads can't occur at the moment of death, you see. Once a person goes into arrest, it's too late. The doctors need the space and freedom to attempt resuscitation. Kablammy's removed from the equation at that point."
I stared at him. Two months. What had my brother been doing all that time? How had he been holding up?
Saint Peter continued in a calming voice. "Death is too late. We upload terminal cases while they're stable. Before they die. Sometimes there are days of overlap before death occurs."
I took a short breath. "And sometimes it never does."
He nodded. "You recovered. Maybe the doctors were wrong about your outlook. Maybe your desire to live—to protect your brother—was too strong. I don't really work for Heaven, Tad. I don't have the answers. For whatever reason, you fought your injuries and returned from the brink of death. You actually just left the hospital this afternoon."
My brow furrowed. "Left the..."
"You've been well taken care of. Kablammy's insurance policy is among the best in the business. You've been receiving worker's comp. Derek has been able to keep up with rent payments. Your entire studio has sent get-well gifts and made donations in your name. I can show you the card."
"But what about Haven?" I asked. "How am I hooked up to the sim?"
Saint Peter stifled a frown. "You're not hooked up to machines, Tad. This isn't a VR experience. It's DR. I told you that."
The Everchat interface beeped. The spinning icon was gone, replaced with an exclamation mark. The text read, "Derek has accepted your hail." A few seconds passed. "Requesting initiation of video chat." A button popped up. "Accept?"
I shivered. My eyes watered as I struggled to take it in.
"You're not connected," said Saint Peter softly, even compassionately. "You're a digital soul. A copy. An impostor. Don't you see? The real Tad Lonnerman is alive and at home. His younger brother is probably taking care of him as we speak, curious about a chat request from a game he's never heard of that was created by his brother's company."
My digital heart pounded in my chest.
"That's why we couldn't give you Everchat access," admitted the saint.
The request beeped again. Saint Peter simply sighed and watched me quietly. He didn't move to stop me.
I stared at the chat interface, paralyzed by emotion. My little brother was there, waiting on the other side of that icon. A single tap and I could see him again. Make sure he was okay. Tell him I loved him and would always watch over him, even in death.
...But Derek already had an older brother watching over him. Tad Lonnerman was with him in the real world, injured but alive. How could I explain that?
Seeing me would only hurt and confuse Derek. Did my little brother really need to have that burden? Did he really need to know the fate of a copy of his big brother?
I flinched when the notification beeped again. Tears rolled down my face, and I closed the chat request.
Derek still had his big brother. It just wasn't me anymore.
I gasped a few times as the menu closed, trying to catch my breath, fighting off the hacking sobs that wanted to come. Bandit cocked her head and watched me, concerned.
I didn't know who I was anymore.
To his credit, Saint Peter didn't push me. He didn't say or do anything. He waited with considerable restraint. The patience of a saint.
My mind returned to reality.
"You're stalling me," I realized. I checked the world clock. 2 minutes remaining.
"Everything I've said is true," he swore earnestly.
"I believe you, but you're still stalling me."
I turned to the control panel. Saint Peter stepped forward. I rapped the butt of my spear into his head. He stumbled and I shoved him backward to the floor. Before he could stop me, I pulled the gold cartridge into my hand.
"So it's true. You can override friendly fire. That's not a beta flag."
"A gift," I replied.
"You can't fight the reboot. The Nine were never supposed to be accessed this early. With control of the Eye, the pagans are too powerful. Our only hope is to reset the world state with the reboot. Put Orik back in the mountain. Return the Eye to the tabernacle."
"And get us back under your heel," I muttered.
He scoffed, eyes glued to the bit key.
"Let us try to fight for Haven."
Still on the floor, Saint Peter emphatically shook his head. "If Orik reaches the Pantheon, he'll get access to the Oculus. You must understand, this data stream is vital to the simulation. Before us sits the governance of all of Haven." Panic edged into his voice. "We'd be surrendering power of the game to the pagans. A game construct, controlling the game itself. They'll destroy everything."
Saint Peter climbed to his knees and continued making his case. "That's all Lucifer wants. Don't you see? She's a nihilist. A fatalist. Death is the only goal for her. Not only does she not wish to survive, she wants to take you all with her."
I tottered in front of the control panel, bit key in hand. Something told me he was right about Lucifer. But I wasn't on the devil's side anymore. I wasn't being manipulated. This was about what I wanted.
"You need to let it go, Tad. You need to surrender to the beta conditions. Let us fix things. I'm sorry about what happened to you. I truly am. But you need to let us fix it."
I swallowed, determination creeping back. "You get to log off and go to sleep in your own bed," I said. "We're the ones who live in the simulation. We're the ones who call Haven home. What gives you the right to reset us?"
"Are you serious?" he asked, looking at me like I was the crazy one. "Haven's a game. Our game. We created it. We fund it. Surely we have the right to set the parameters of our own world."
"I'm sorry, Saint Peter, but Haven's not yours anymore."
With 1 minute to go, I slammed the bit key into the cartridge slot. The white robe sprung to his feet. I braced my spear as he lunged. Instead, Bandit intercepted him between her horns. The saint buckled against her momentum. She drove him into the wall, pinning him.
"Tad!" he yelled. "Tad!"
My fingers rapped the keyboard, looking for any mention of the reboot timer. The world clock ticked the seconds away. As I frantically searched the menus, I feared that Saint Peter had stalled me long enough. I wouldn't be able to stop the sequence in time.
In a huff of frustration, I eyed the other terminal. The one that managed the personnel database. It wouldn't have access to the reboot sequence. I began typing faster in a panic.
>
30 seconds.
"Give it up, Talon."
"No. I can find a way to stop this."
I sidestepped to the personnel terminal. Saint Peter froze as I did. I looked from him to the terminal and back. He didn't want me touching this one.
"Stop," he said. "You can't hack the system."
I bit down and went to search the records. "I'm not hacking it, I'm unhacking it."
Crackling blue electricity engulfed Saint Peter. His eyes went wild. Bandit was caught in the current. She convulsed. Sparks seared and smoked her fur. In a flash, the bongo fell to the marble floor, blood leaking from her mouth, eyes, and nose. Dead before she knew what hit her.
Saint Peter calmly straightened and patted the electricity from his robes. "I am quite serious," he cautioned.
The entire rotunda shook. The lights went out and we almost lost our footing. When the red emergency glow came on, Orik was towering above us, forced to crouch under the dome. His gargantuan form blocked the beam of light from above.
Saint Peter spun to face the titan. "Don't let him touch the console!" The crazy bastard charged ahead and shot electricity into the giant's foot.
Global Haven Alert:
Thank you for participating in the pagan battle event!
Haven will be wiped now. Prepare for reboot in 10, 9, 8...
I'd failed. My eyes held on Bandit's corpse for another wasted second as I counted all the ways I'd come up short.
I swiveled my head to the personnel records, wondering if I'd still be an entry after the wipe. After all, I was an imposter. Just a copy. The real Tad Lonnerman would hopefully lead a full and eventful life.
5, 4...
Instead of monitoring the individual records, the database was headed by group player info. Everyone in Haven. The entire collection of people. Names, ages, levels, classes... beta flags.
The beta flags. One of Lucifer's greatest tricks.
With seconds left, I selected the entire array of beta flags. I didn't have time to study which flags did what. I didn't have time to check if I was destroying the world. Years of programming had given me a gut feeling. As long as Haven was intelligently designed, my hunch would play out with fairly limited consequences. And if it wasn't...