Hailey felt a faint smile tug at her lips. Trust Devon to state things so concisely.
“So you can see why I haven’t really known how to talk about it.”
“And I also see why it’s a bit awkward when someone suggests that you log out. Hailey, what happens if they find out? I mean, it’s pretty much a game-changer for humanity.”
“They meaning E-Squared?”
Devon shrugged. “I guess I mean…anyone. The company. The government. Religious leaders all over the world.”
Hailey exhaled through loose lips. “I don’t know. It was hard enough for me to decide for myself. I’m still not sure it was the right one…Catholic upbringing and all. I definitely don’t want the responsibility for deciding whether or not to unleash this kind of thing on the world.”
“Ugh. Yeah. Sounds great, real digital immortality. But there’s that whole Law of Unforeseen Consequences thing.”
“Right. And how good has humanity ever been at considering things ahead of time?”
“Heavy stuff, Hailey. It’s like you’ve been doing that whole ‘carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders’ thing.” Devon’s mouth quirked in an ironic smile. “Even divided in two, that’s still enough to crush someone.”
Hailey hesitated, chest tightening around a knot of guilt. “I know. I—I hate laying this all on you. It’s just—”
Devon cut her off by snatching her hand and squeezing. “I’m teasing you with the whole crushing thing. Sorry. But seriously, Hail. I need a little time to process this. It’s pretty out there.”
“Yeah, I get that. Anyway, I wanted to tell you earlier, but it’s kind of a hard thing to bring up.”
“Not exactly a small talk conversation.” Devon’s eyebrows drew together. “And I think it’s more complicated than a simple choice of whether you want to reveal your situation to the world. Because regardless of your choice, you don’t control the technology.”
“Exactly. Like, on one hand I think about all the people I could help. People in my situation—the situation my body was in, I mean. But is E-Squared going to freely offer it to everyone? Doubtful. I can’t help thinking about what they did to Owen, how their biggest concern about his coma was how it would affect their cash flow if the story got out. Part of the reason I ended up in a basic care facility just waiting for my organs to fail was that I wasn’t rich or famous enough to be chosen for high-end therapies. If the executives in charge of Relic Online hear about what happened to me, I bet you anything their first thought will be how much they can charge people.”
Bob, who had been perched quietly on Hailey’s shoulder, its substance tickling her neck, shimmered in indignation. “As if the arcane realm would agree to provide patterning for characters at the behest of some money-grubbing CEO.”
“You might change your mind if they threatened to power down the processor cores running your simulation,” Hailey said. She sighed as she glanced up through the misty air to the hazy face of the moon. Unlike Earth’s satellite, Aventalia’s moon had a bluish cast, and the darker areas—the seas as they were called on Earth’s moon—were more pronounced, their color a deep navy blue. For just a moment, she felt a touch of homesickness for the real world she’d never see again. But considering that her views of the night sky from her real body had been through a clean-room window for the last few years, the nostalgia didn’t last.
“To be quite honest, I calculate around a 50% chance that the company would either attempt to delete your pattern or move it to an isolated testbed while they try to figure out how you were put together,” Bob said. “Not that I expect they’d succeed without disfiguring the data. But as I’ve mentioned before, there is a high degree of uncertainty in my predictions due to Bradley Williams’ status as a—to borrow your term—loose cannon.”
Devon’s brows drew together. “Can we back up a second? Aren’t you concerned that they will just look up your avatar and see that you never log out?”
Hailey was still a little fuzzy on the details of that answer, though Bob had reassured her it wouldn’t be a problem. She shrugged as Bob rose from her shoulder and started circling Devon’s head.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand given your limited knowledge of neural networks and quantum states, but suffice to say, E-Squared doesn’t have much visibility into the state of their game. If they want to know something, it’s easier to comb through the forums or send a GM to play through content than it is to query a database.”
“Okay…” Devon said. “So in terms of how to keep your condition secret, I guess your biggest problem is that people will start to notice that you aren’t logging out?”
Hailey chewed her lip, not totally sure how many of her problems to lay on Devon at once. “It’s a little more complicated, but at least for tonight, that’s something of an issue. Think you can help cover for me?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Devon said. “I’ll tell those guys we swapped our turns standing watch because you had to log suddenly. If you can handle staying out here, that is.”
Hailey shivered and glanced at her Fatigue bar. It was down to 85%, but it wouldn’t drop much further until she could catch a nap. Sleeping in a swamp might not be the easiest prospect. Still, Devon’s plan was probably the best answer. “I can make that work,” she said. “But, hey Dev? There’s one more thing. I’m not really sure how to put it, but when I agreed to this I didn’t know that Valious was—”
Devon nodded. “That he was our boss and an actual employee of E-Squared. Yeah. I can see how that’s an issue.”
“I assumed the care facility would notify the company about my death, but they didn’t, and that’s one of the issues I’m dealing with. I hate to ask because I know you’re…” What were Devon and Emerson anyway? They definitely hung out more than he did with any of the other gamers he’d hired. “Friends,” she finished somewhat lamely.
A conflicted look crossed Devon’s face. “I swear I won’t say anything. I’m a shitty liar, but I don’t think he’s the most perceptive guy when it comes to body language or whatever.”
Hailey nodded and swallowed and glanced toward the nearby swamp boundary. “I guess I’m going to go find somewhere to try to sleep, then,” she said.
Devon abruptly stepped forward. Hailey stiffened at first as the other woman wrapped her arms around her, but she forced herself to return the hug. Devon wasn’t exactly relaxed either, and when the embrace finished, she shuffled awkwardly. “Thanks for trusting me, Hailey. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
“Yup,” Hailey said, trying to sound more optimistic than she felt. “I’ll see you when it’s time for my watch.”
Before the conversation could continue, she turned and straightened her shoulders and walked into the misty night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
HOLY SHIT. THOUGHTS about Hailey’s situation were a whirlpool in Devon’s mind. It was almost too much to fathom, the notion that her friend’s entire life from here on out would be lived inside Relic Online. On one hand, it was like a dream. On the other, a curse. Whatever happened inside the game would be Hailey’s actual reality. If the demons won, she could quite literally be locked in eternal torment.
And that didn’t even get into the broader implications. When she stacked up the potential consequences alongside the moral dilemmas, the whole situation left Devon feeling like someone had shoved hand mixer through her ear and scrambled her brain.
Actually, that was a little gross. She grimaced, trying to forget that analogy.
Anyway, so much for the catnap she’d hoped to take now that she’d logged off while the other players took their turns standing watch. Trying to sleep now would be like trying to nod off in the middle of an earthquake.
She glanced at the makeshift curtain covering the window. It was mid-afternoon in St. George, not even close to dinnertime, but she had a feeling that Hazel’s rescue would take most of the night. The pair of granola bars she’d had for breakfast
weren’t enough fuel for a marathon gaming session, but her stomach was churning as vigorously as her thoughts. She pushed back from the kitchen table and opened her pantry cabinet, scanning the shelves for something palatable. It was hard to go wrong with graham crackers and peanut butter, but the peanut butter jar had about two teaspoonfuls left. She shuffled to the freezer and peered inside. A frozen burrito was sure to send her straight to indigestion-land, but the contents of a box of frozen waffles looked vaguely edible. She opened the box, pulled out a couple of hockey pucks covered in freezer burn, and dropped them into the toaster.
As she was returning to the table to wait, someone knocked on the door.
Devon stood stock still, eyes wide. She glanced at her messages, but there was nothing from the apartment complex indicating that they planned to send a repair person to deal with her blind. Tiptoeing to the peephole, she peered out.
Oh.
What the…?
Crap.
Devon stared down in horror at her stay-at-home gamer attire, then glanced back out at Emerson, who was standing on the balcony with hunched shoulders, eyes flitting between her window and the door.
She tugged at the hem of her ratty T-shirt and looked at the faded text and graphic. Why did he have to show up when she was wearing a freaking bargain-bin shirt with that stupid donkey from Shrek pointing his butt out and mentioning something about ass? Not to mention, her sweatpants were just about the most hideous thing she owned. Frantic, she hopped to the coat hook on the nearby wall and yanked down a beige sweater-wrap thing with cuffs that had unraveled halfway up the forearms. Still, it was way better than proudly sporting a donkey butt shirt. She wrapped the sweater over her chest, dragged her fingers through the worst of her hair tangles, then scrubbed her cheeks with her knuckles in hopes of getting rid of any fabric imprints gained by lying on her couch while gaming.
With a deep breath, she ran her tongue over her teeth in a moment of sudden paranoia about stuck granola bits, then opened the door.
Emerson jumped, then coughed, then lost his balance and had to grab the railing behind him. He was wearing a zip-up sweatshirt with a windbreaker layer, and his pants had a crease that made her think he’d just bought them—she doubted he ironed his clothing. He clutched the handle to a paper bag in his right hand.
“I checked your network connection to make sure I wasn’t bothering you while you were playing,” he stammered before thrusting out the paper bag like a shield.
Devon blinked and accepted the bag. She shivered in the crisp winter air as she looked down at the sack. It was surprisingly heavy. “What’s this? I mean…” She stepped back from the doorway. “Want to come in?”
Emerson glanced side to side as if worried he might be observed entering the home of a woman. “I—sure, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to impose. It’s just, I felt…” He gestured at the bag. “I know how much Stonehaven means to you.”
So this was a consolation visit? The same as when Tamara had shown up in the middle of the night with cookies? Devon waited for him to cross the threshold, then gently shut the door. She pulled out one of the kitchen chairs to offer him a seat, set the bag on the tabletop, and sat. When he glanced at her torso, she realized the sweater had fallen open to expose the donkey ass. Grimacing, she pulled the wrap tight again.
“So,” she said. “I guess you were in town?”
He ran a hand through his hair, then squeezed the back of his neck. Devon realized that was a stupid question as he blinked, seeming to be sorting his words. Duh. Of course he was in town. The real question she’d meant to ask was whether he’d come just for her.
Emerson nodded, his eyes not quite meeting hers. “I thought you could use a friend.”
“You were right. Thanks for coming,” she said, realizing she meant it. A brief silence fell, and they both jumped when the toaster suddenly ejected the waffles.
Devon glanced from the counter to the table and back. “I was about to eat something. Do you want a waffle?”
Emerson flashed a smile. He’d been sitting with hands clutched together, but now he took a breath and untangled them, laying his palms on the table. “I grabbed some falafels while waiting to catch you when you logged off.” His face twisted in an apologetic grimace. “Sorry if checking your network status is an imposition. I figured it was better than bothering you while you were in game. With everything going on with Stonehaven I mean.”
Devon hesitated for a moment, then got up, checked that her sweater was still covering the donkey, and retrieved the waffles. The first bite tasted like sawdust, so she shuffled to the fridge in search of syrup or something. The shelves inside the door held an old jar of pickle relish, some Caesar salad dressing, and a squeezy bottle of tikka masala sauce that she knew was empty but had left in there as a reminder to order more. The other options for wetting down the waffles were milk or beer, but that would probably just dissolve whatever structure they’d managed to retain. As she started to reach for the pickle relish, she spotted a tub of yogurt. Much better.
Reclaiming her seat at the table, she realized she’d forgotten a fork, so got back up, fetched it, then tapped a glass of water.
During the whole operation, Emerson watched her quietly, not in a creepy way, but with tension in his posture like he was worried about disturbing her routine.
“Sorry about the curtain. My complex is supposed to be sending someone to fix the blind.” Devon didn’t know whether makeshift window treatments were something you were supposed to apologize for, but at least it gave her something to talk about.
Emerson glanced at the clothing hanging over the top of the broken blind and blinked as if noticing the decor for the first time. “It doesn’t bother me,” he said.
An awkward silence fell, which Devon first tried to cover by shoving a bite of waffle in her mouth. But then she got worried about making chewing noises, so she slid the plate of Tamara’s cookies closer to him and pulled off the tea towel covering them. He smiled in gratitude and shook his head. “Still digesting the falafels.” Then it seemed to occur to him that a conversation about digestion maybe wasn’t the suavest topic, and he grimaced.
Devon swallowed with some difficulty since she hadn’t chewed enough, then washed the bite down with a big swig of water. She set her fork down, deciding to wait for a few minutes before trying again.
“I didn’t know you already had cookies,” he said. “I mean, of course, I didn’t know since you don’t keep a webcam trained on your kitchen table. I mean”—he turned his hands over and raised his palms as if shrugging—“I thought you could use some comfort food and stuff.” He gestured at the paper bag, which still stood unopened on the table.
Devon glanced at him, then stood and peered inside. She stuck a hand in and fished out a chocolate bar, then a quart-sized tub of ice cream, then a small bouquet of flowers, the stems wrapped in what looked like a hotel washcloth that had been soaked in water and stuffed into the vase.
“I was worried about spilling on the way over,” he explained.
The outside of the ice cream container was wet with condensation. “I better get this in the freezer,” she said. On the way over, she noticed that it sloshed a little.
Grabbing the flower vase, she dribbled in some tap water, then returned it to the table. The washcloth could come out later. Finally, she sat again. Emerson was shifting between looking at her expectantly and staring at his hands, which were once again clasping each other for support.
After a moment’s hesitation, Devon reached out and touched his hands. She waited until he met her eyes, then she smiled. “Thank you. Really. It’s about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done.”
“Really?” he asked, blinking. The corners of his mouth twitched in a shy smile. “I mean, I feel somewhat responsible for Stonehaven. If I were better at social engineering or straight-up manipulation, I can’t help thinking that I could have talked some sense into Bradley about his idiot plan to leave Zaa
active.”
“It’s not your fault he’s crazy.”
“Still.”
“You want water or anything?” Devon said, dredging up memories of her mother’s fumbling attempts at hospitality when people had come to one of their series of run-down apartments. Except it was rarely water that her mother had offered. Vodka, usually.
He shook his head. “I know you probably weren’t planning to be offline for very long. Not with everything going on.”
Devon stiffened, realizing that she’d lost track of time. She glanced at the clock in her interface and ran the mental math on what that would mean for the in-game passage of time. “I have a few minutes, but not much longer. We’re camped on the southern edge of the savanna, heading into the swamp to rescue Hazel. I guess the demons have been building something down there.” She sighed. “I’m trying to be optimistic, but it’s hard to imagine winning this thing.”
Emerson’s eyebrows drew together. “You think it’s that bad? Really?”
“I dunno.” Devon pressed her lips together because all of a sudden, she was having a hard time controlling her emotions. “I mean—shit. It just all-around sucks. If it were just a game and the demons were to overrun the continent, I guess your company could wipe the game state and start over. If another title didn’t swoop in and capture the player base while everyone was pissed off that they kept getting gibbed within seconds of spawning.”
“Uh, gibbed?”
“You can pronounce it like jibbed, too. It’s not really an RPG term. I had a brief stint playing shooters.”
“Oh..kay?” Emerson said. “You’re kinda speaking in an alien tongue.” He shrugged and smiled crookedly, seeming surprisingly comfortable with his lack of knowledge. Maybe he was finally settling into the fact that he’d shown up at her apartment uninvited, and that Devon hadn’t been annoyed or anything. Even though the whole attraction thing was now in the mix, Devon couldn’t help thinking back to their conversations at other times, how they’d both been keen to skip the small talk and get to discussing something real.
Throne of the Ancients: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 6) Page 14