She sighed and lifted her eyes. He followed her gaze, back across the room to the VR Tank. A frosty chill swept his body…there was something floating in its milky green liquid. “Mum!” His voice was trembling. “What is that? What have you…”
It moved, sending ripples across the surface of the tank. Fergus stared in horror. Whatever it was, it was alive. As he focused on the shape he began to discern its arms, legs and head. It was human…and it was naked. There was something horribly familiar about that body. As he felt panic rising in his chest, the recognition dawning, the figure began to thrash about wildly, waves of gloopy liquid splashing over the rim of the tank. The VR mask slipped away from its face and sank to the floor of the tank. It was struggling for oxygen…its face twisting and contorting in terror…his face…recognition. Fergus was drowning!
Fergus ripped off the VR Mask…or thought he did.
He was suddenly back in the prison cell with the princess. She leapt to her feet with glee, threw her arms around him and kissed him – as he’d originally anticipated the game to progress. As he tasted her lips and the sweetness of her warm breath, he searched the far reaches of his vision, the panic in his chest subsiding as he could see no sign of reality…his room…the VR Tank…his mother. Everything was pixellated cyberspace for as far as his eyes could see.
“Did you like my poem?” she asked, breaking her embrace.
“No…” he muttered, glancing around nervously. “…it didn’t fit.” The lanterns still offered their unsteady light, the heavy door was open again and the grubby floor intact. “What happened…to the lights…a moment ago?” He turned his head to face her.
“The lights?” she seemed puzzled.
“They went…did they…go out?”
“No.” She smiled. “No…my light has returned to me…to guide my path away from here!” She held out her hand. Fergus studied her long, elegant – if unwashed – fingers as they reached for his.
“Yes!” He nodded, more sure of himself again. “We’d better get going before we’re discovered! This way!”
He started to lead her out of the cell and back the way he’d come, but she resisted. Not another glitch, he thought.
“No! Not that way! Follow me! There’s a better path…”
He shrugged and followed her along the twisting corridors, trusting her sense of direction…or at least that her programmer had intended him to be led this way…all part of the game. His mind was racing as he ran behind her on autopilot. There were disturbing incongruities, never mind the interruptions. His mission was basic…simple…to escape, steal a stealth-fighter, locate the fortress – all of which he’d managed – then land, find the princess and rescue her…killing as many bad guys on the way in and out as he could manage to boost his score. He remembered crashing – not landing – the changed weather, the fishing village, the voices in the cave…the black spectre! They didn’t fit…like her poem…and falling through the floor back to reality…or something like reality. Perhaps the game programme was more complex than usual? Perhaps it had been created with multiple outcomes and, rather than simple save stages, these were junctions…like train tracks…that offered alternative routes and alternative endings? Perhaps her leading him was just one of many variations…
How long had he been playing, floating in his VR Tank, breathing through the mask? How long had he been under the spell of the Dream Weavers? It was impossible to tell. Time stretched beyond reckoning through the combination of the VR game and the chemical enhancement.
“Why did you have a poem for me?” Fergus asked as they reached a staircase and paused for breath. It felt a little odd that they had not encountered a single mutant since fleeing the cell…perhaps a game cheat short cut activated by agreeing for her to lead?
“The man who came to my cell earlier told me the poem,” she said matter-of-factly. He said I was to recite it to you when you came.” Fergus grabbed her arm.
“What man?” Her blue eyes seemed hurt by his accusatory tone. “Who told you the poem? How did he know I was coming?” He considered this might all be some kind of trick…she could be a decoy…not the real Princess Ashera!
She shook herself free and began climbing the stone steps. “I don’t know! He didn’t say who he was…but he wasn’t one of them…the mutants!”
“What did he look like?” He followed her, trying to rationalise this new twist in the game plot. Maybe the mutants were no more than pawns…a greater, darker power was at work here in the fortress! Uberoth…
“I don’t know…a man…a bit like you…but no armour…we’d better pick up the speed if we’re going to get out of here in time!”
‘In time?’ he thought. What did she mean? How could she know about the game’s time limit? Or was she talking about something else? He called after her, “What do you mean? In time? Did he say that to you as well?” She didn’t answer. Reality…or, rather, unreality was becoming unreliable.
They reached the level above and the staircase opened into a corridor much wider than any he had yet encountered in the fortress. Ahead, a strange crimson glow seemed to edge toward them like fog, swallowing up the flickering lanterns. Fergus sensed they were nearing a critical point in the game…perhaps he should now resume the lead?
As the blood red light became stronger he realised its source was not as natural as the timid flames of the lanterns that had guided them to this place. In the corner of his eye he noticed the texture of the floor and walls changing…the gothic flagstones and brickwork of the floor and walls now interspersed with large plastic panels, out of keeping with this fortress. The corridor opened into a chamber, from which the lurid glow emanated. Princess Ashera, if indeed it was her, stopped and turned to face him.
“Go on then, do your stuff, hero boy!” Fergus detected more than a hint of sarcasm in her tone…programmer humour?
“Don’t you think it’s strange that we haven’t encountered anything since we left your cell?” He cautiously stepped past her, his laser gun outstretched in defiance to any danger that may be lurking within the chamber. “I find that a bit…odd.”
“You scared?” she asked, folding her arms as though impatient for him to get this portion of the game completed.
“No!” he snapped. “It’s just…things aren’t working out like they are supposed to.”
“Life’s like that,” she chuckled. “Tell me about it! I didn’t exactly expect to be locked up in this shit-hole, waiting for you to breeze in like some fucking two-bit gun-slinging cowboy, watch you piss around slaying things in my name and then spread my legs for you in gratitude when the shootin’s done!”
Her words stung. Worse still, they were seriously undermining his enjoyment of the game, programmer humour or not. He turned his back on the danger ahead and lowered the laser pistol. She scowled at him.
“You’re supposed to be a princess! Princess Ashera! Princesses don’t talk like that! Cowboys don’t…”
“What makes you think I’m a princess?” she interrupted him. “You didn’t exactly introduce yourself when you came barging in on me back there, so I didn’t introduce myself either!”
“Look! I…” but Fergus was lost for words. Something seemed to stir in the chamber ahead of them. Having come this far without losing a life he decided he didn’t want to have to re-start or even re-spawn now. “Never mind.” He was about to turn back to face the danger but paused a moment longer, studying her pretty face. “So what is your name? Tell me…in case this all goes horribly wrong!” He smiled.
She held his gaze…then smiled back.
“That’s a first!” she exclaimed. “You’ve never asked my name before!”
He was puzzled…dimly aware of a distant noise, like an electronic bleep, coming from the light source. This ‘maiden’…or princess…had never featured in any of the games he’d previously played so there could be no residual memory of her in his VR-console…and this was the first time he’d played ‘Goginan’…
“What d
o you mean…?”
He didn’t get the chance to complete his question.
Shards of plastic exploded from the wall beside them as a bolt of white energy fizzed past his head.
“Get them!” came the shout from within the chamber.
Fergus spun to face the danger, his laser gun now throbbing with power as it charged up. A mutant emerged from the glow of the chamber, its armour a different class to that of those he’d already encountered. Fergus jabbed the trigger, aiming instinctively, and the blast caught the creature full in the face. He saw its shocked features implode before it fell to the floor and skidded briefly toward them, carried forward by momentum. Another took its place and he fired again, this time slicing through the armour and splitting open the mutant’s torso, spilling its foul guts across the floor. A third and then a fourth beast hurled themselves toward him…one at a time, so he had sufficient opportunity to aim and fire. Strange that, he mused, not entirely lost in the heat of the battle.
The skirmish was a blur of movement, heat and deafening sound…then it was all over.
Fergus waited, gun still poised, glancing over his shoulder to check she was still standing. In the frozen moments he considered the fallen bodies through the smoke of his weapon. Too easy…too quick…and he had felt too detached from the action – unsettled by what she’d said – and the usual thrill had been missed.
“Well done my hero!” She sauntered up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down to meet hers. He sensed the insincerity in her voice and in her movements…like a poor actor with a poor script. He pulled away from the kiss and broke free of her grip.
“Stop it!” he hissed. “There’s a problem here! It’s not happening the way it should…something went wrong…at the start…when it was loading…when I was…” She frowned, her youthful complexion wrinkling with puzzlement. He searched her eyes. “It just doesn’t feel right…you…this place…the fight…” He turned his back on her and marched into the heart of the chamber.
It was like something from the set of a cheap science fiction TV show. He raised the gun and fired randomly. Panels exploded and fell to the floor, blinking instrumentation crashed and splintered within puffs of smoke and the central illuminated column, from which the glow originated, topped to the floor with a dull thud. Fergus grimaced and fired again and again, until he was surrounded by smoke and the red glow had faded to a mere suggestion. Then he strode into the midst of the debris and began kicking at it with his heavy boots.
It cracked and splintered easily…like plywood props. There was nothing to it…this room of pretty lights and fake gadgets…a façade.
“It’s not real!” he screamed into the chaos. “It’s all a mockery!”
Suddenly he was running…they were running.
They were racing away from the chamber, along the tunnels of shadows and flickering lights. The façade forgotten, Fergus knew it was critical to get out…to get her out…before the fortress erupted. He knew, was certain, the damage he’d inflicted to the central controls had been enough. His mission was all but accomplished…if they made it to the other side!
He’d rescued the damsel in distress, killed the bad guys, destroyed the fortress and now came the final lap…the sprint to the finish…and he could hold her, sink himself into her warm, grateful body and climax…the money shot! In his mind’s eye he could see the digital countdown, timing him out as he made good their escape…second by second. He felt the rush of excitement and raw energy…the thrill of the race and the anticipation of reward.
He was vaguely aware of music…a soundtrack? Pounding sequenced bass lines wrapped themselves around the punching kick of synthesised drums…setting this scene alive with tension. They turned left, then right…blasts ripped through the floors and walls they had just passed. He could see a doorway up ahead…he summoned all his strength and, grabbing her by the hand, tugged her forward toward it. A golden light flooded through, piercing the darkness of the sinister fortress.
As they reached the opening, Fergus sensed movement in the shadows to one side. A mutant separated itself from the darkness and impaled itself against the light, blocking their escape. Without thinking, he lifted the gun and fired. The beam struck its target. There was a crackle of energy as blue and white light wrestled with the shape that eclipsed their goal…but instead of falling dead to the floor, the shape began to transform before their eyes.
Fergus and the maiden stumbled to a halt, appalled as the grotesque flesh and armour melted into blackness and the creatures savage features collapsed in on themselves. The light was almost entirely eclipsed…no more than a shimmering rim encircling the blackness and burning eyes they could now see in their path. Fergus felt the wind howling around them. The music, gone.
“Who are you?” he screamed in rage. The fortress was about to erupt in searing flame, seconds remained on the clock counting down. “Get out of our way!” He glanced back to see his maiden, his prize, captured like a photograph against the darkness of the tunnel…motionless and two-dimensional, her mouth open in a soundless scream, her eyes cold and lifeless. He looked away.
“What have you done to her?” he faced the entity blocking his escape, feeling the sinister chill of its presence…or maybe that was the howling wind? “What do you want with me?” He wondered if this was Uberoth…the man who had visited her cell and delivered his poem to her. “Who are you?” His frail voice echoed in the void like hollow laughter.
Suddenly, the world lit up with fire…the brightest, fiercest explosion of light he’d ever seen…yet silent. He saw the rubble and dust erupt around him, like some ancient choking volcano spewing its prison into the sky. The fortress was gone. She was gone.
Fergus was alone with the ghastly apparition.
“I am you,” it hissed like a scythe of ice. “You are me. Together…we control our destiny!” Its voice spiralled away into lifeless space.
“I am the transcendental mirror man!”
The sky tumbled and fell, ripped away to reveal blackness and stars…the very edge of the universe.
“I hold the image…I hold the sign.”
The twinkling lights faded. He saw the moon, dripping blood red against the velvet of eternal night…twin moons bleeding to death.
“I am the transcendental mirror man…let me write for you…”
The eyes, blood red eyes, the only light that remained, ensnared him.
“…a requiem!”
Fergus groaned. Everything shook.
He saw nothing more.
*
XII
FERGUS saw her in a dream. He could no longer be sure if he dreamed for real, or if the dream was part of the programme. She drifted toward him on the silent sea, her white dress billowing against the hidden deep that swelled beneath the waves. He had rescued her, and she had been beside him, running from the inferno. Now, she was out of reach…distant.
“Do you want to end this game, user?” The coloured lights that suddenly appeared played with her golden hair. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Perhaps this was her true form…her real incarnation…but what was real?
“Why does your voice sound…hollow…computer generated?” he asked.
“You created me…surely you know?” Her face was expressionless, like her tone. “Now do you want to continue…or end the game?”
“I didn’t create you. You’re part of the programme…you…” You don’t exist, he thought, you’re the figment of some teenage nerdy computer geek’s over-sexed imagination. “What’s happened to you? You’re meant to be a princess…I was rescuing you…when…” He was struggling to stay within the narrative of the game, but it was too soon to end it now. He wanted his prize…
“You created me…and now you have destroyed me!” Her body whirled through the air, the lights melding into one and catching her feminine form, highlighting the rows of binary code that formed her thighs, her hips, her stomach and her breasts.
“I di
d nothing!” he insisted, reaching up to touch her. “I chose the option that would let me have you…make love to you…my prize for rescuing you! Ashera…” But she was vanishing, her digits unravelling into the air.
“No, user…you control the programme. You make the changes. I am only your fantasy.”
He awoke among the scattered debris. It still smouldered, sending acrid trails of smoke skyward. Fergus was alone. There was no sign of the maiden, or the ghostly image in billowing white. He clutched a nearby block of stone and pulled himself to his feet. It was then he noticed his strange, or rather too familiar, apparel. In place of his body armour were jeans, trainers, a sweatshirt and long coat. There was a scarf around his neck. He’d seen these clothes before but couldn’t place where.
He stood amid the wreckage of the fortress and surveyed the charred landscape. Nothing living between him and the nearby forest that seemed untouched by flame. He was here for a reason, but he couldn’t remember what it was. There was a purpose…something he had to do…if only he could remember…
There was a woman. He remembered that.
She’d left him.
Perhaps she’d walked into the forest. He peered across at the distant wall of trees. Their ashen boughs were heavy with needles and cones and a wintry wind shook their tops against the bleak grey sky, but he could see no movement. Fergus sensed complete isolation; a backdrop of emptiness. Is it me…or is the land wounded? He asked himself. His feet began to shuffle against the charcoal floor and he began to make his way to the forest. If anything lived, it would be there. He needed answers. They were here…somewhere…maybe in his head? He’d fallen…had a bump to the skull?
He began to search his mind. It was a library of books, row-upon-row of dusty, leather-bound volumes with indecipherable writing in gold inlay on their covers. They contained the wisdom of generations…but how did he know that? He imagined himself reaching up to the top shelf of the nearest stand and lifting off the largest volume he could find, opening it in his hands. Perhaps this would give him a clue as to his purpose here…
Experiment With Destiny Page 19