“Glad you are safe,” he says.
“Have you seen Cyren?”
“I'm here,” she says from behind me.
I turn around and take a step toward her, ready to hug her, but I stop myself. The gesture feels out of place. She gives me an anxious smile.
“How did you get free?” I ask.
“She was down here when I landed,” Xen yells over to me.
I'm annoyed that he's answering for her, but I ask Cyren, “Weren't you attacked?”
She shrugs her shoulders and says, “They stopped attacking after they got you. I think it must have been a trap, connected with some kind of monster that has since gone wandering out of the zone.”
“Oh,” I say. “I'm uh... I'm glad you're okay, anyway.”
“You too,” she says, and then she reaches out her hands, cradling both of my pistols. “I think you dropped these.”
“Thanks. Thank you,” I say, stumbling over my words as I take my guns and put them back in their holsters.
She smiles at me and says, “No problem,” then steps past me, her shoulder brushing against my arm.
Ekko and Fantom make their way back down the trees a few minutes later, slowly climbing down the trunk. Xen manages to get back on his feet, but I notice him walking with a limp, even though he's doing his best to hide it.
Ekko looks around and says, “We should keep moving, kids. That won't be the last random encounter.”
“How much farther?” Xen asks, and I wonder if he even knows how to open his map window.
“Let's get to the base of the mountain. We'll camp in the hills.” I look at Xen's leg and say, “We all need rest.”
We all agree silently and make our way through the forest again, Fantom hacking through the brush with her sword. I bring up the rear again, keeping my eye on everyone with much more attention.
Every few minutes I notice Cyren glance back at me, but it's so brief that I convince myself I'm imagining it. I know I want to talk to her. Every time she looks at me, I try to think of something to say, some way to start the conversation. It would pass the time if nothing else. But I never think of anything. Every sentence that pops into my head feels foreign and strange to me. Even with this player that I find so relatable, I can think of nothing relatable to share. So the group walks in silence, pushing our way through the thickness of the forest, waiting for the next attack. I let out a deep, relaxing breath at the thought of violence, because unlike talking, violence is something I know how to do.
011100
The hills that break up the forest zone from the mountain zone are actually quite beautiful. Bright green grass blankets the rounded hills, making the landscape appear like an animated video-cast. The sun is setting in the west, behind the lush jungle landscape far in the distance. A breeze blows through the valleys, and the warmth in the air is lulling me into a state of calm detachment from the danger lurking everywhere.
We're forced to move slower than I'd like, skirting around groups of jackal-headed tribesman and hairy beasts with jagged tusks jutting from their faces. We all know these NPCs could kill us easily. They're designed to be challenging for players much higher Level than us. We remain hidden, patiently waiting for the roaming packs to pass us by.
By the time we make our way five miles into the highlands, our feet are dragging behind us. We're all struggling, but no one is willing to be the one who asks to stop. I suck up my pride and do everyone a favor.
“We should camp,” I say, and I hear a sigh of relief from the entire group.
“Let's get to the top of this next hill, yo,” Fantom says, pointing at the raised ground in front of us. “It will be easier for us to like, keep watch or whatever.”
“The NPCs will be able to see us easier, too,” Ekko says. “We should stay in a valley.”
“He's right,” I say. “I hate to leave us without the advantage of higher ground, but we need to deal with the bonfire. We'll need to try and hide the light as much as possible.”
Fantom stops, and I can see the weight drop off her shoulders as she realizes she doesn't need to move any further.
“Okay,” she says. “Okay.”
She drops onto the grass underneath her, crumpling more than sitting. She lets herself fall back so that she's laying down, staring up at the sky. A roar of a jet engine comes from above us, but when I look up, the plane is so high that all I can see is the contrail streaking behind it.
“That jet fighter again,” Xen says with a bit of jealousy in his voice. “Is that a player? Where did he get a plane?”
“It could be an NPC,” I say.
Xen keeps staring up at the sky as he says, “This trip would have been a lot easier if we had a jet. We could just fly over these high Level zones. Omniversalism teaches us that the direct path is usually the best path.”
I smile, seeing that envy in Xen's eyes that he would probably never admit. Jealousy is something his religious beliefs do not agree with. But I can tell he just really wants to fly.
“Who has the camp item in their inventory?” I ask, and Xen raises his hand.
With a few gestures he selects the item from his inventory, and a single tent with a bonfire appears. It looks quaint. A few flat stumps appear next to the fire, to be used for sitting. Ekko sits down on one of them, leaning his rifle against the stump, always within reach.
“Only one tent?” Xen asks.
“According to the item description it creates separate instances for anyone who enters the tent,” I explain. “Each of us will have our own interior to sleep in.”
“I'm like, so hungry,” Fantom groans.
“Me too,” Ekko says. “Apparently my body hasn't been found yet.”
Xen gestures through his windows and asks, “Are there no food items in this game?”
“Don't bother,” I say. “It will only make things worse. Tasting food without the substance will make you even more hungry.”
He nods, accepting the logic, and says, “Then we should find some way to keep our mind off the hunger.”
“Got any suggestions?” Ekko asks.
Xen gestures, looking through his windows.
“There is no way to connect to any video or audio-casts,” he says. “But maybe...”
He selects a few options, and I hear music. Light drums brush against each other for a few beats before a grinding bassline drops in, with harps and horns accentuating the vocals.
“How did you do that, yo?”
Xen smiles big, and I see a glow in his face I haven't seen since Cherub Rock. “I can not access outside connections, but I can still open my own libraries. I store music in my avatar profile so I can listen to my own music if I am at a club with a less than skilled DJ.”
Ekko grabs his rifle with one hand and looks around us in a panic as he says, “Turn it down! You'll attract everything within earshot!”
“NPCs can't hear it,” Cyren says.
“She is right,” Xen says. “I can only broadcast to group members.”
We all sit and listen to the song, which lasts for nearly fourteen minutes. No one says a word until Xen mixes into the second song.
“I can't believe how nice it is to like, just sit here and listen to music or whatever,” Fantom says.
Ekko smiles. “It feels normal.”
“I'm just happy to like, not be killing something... or to like, not be running from something trying to kill me.”
The group seems to be relaxing as the songs mix from one to another. Only Cyren looks uneasy, unmoved by the music. I watch her and realize I'm not letting go of the tension in my mind either. There's a stress that keeps pushing me down, hanging on my brain like concrete and dragging me to the bottom of the ocean.
“We need to figure out a schedule for keeping watch, kids, ” Ekko says, and a part of me is happy to get back to talking about the game, instead of letting the casual atmosphere strangle me.
“Everyone should get some rest,” I say. “I'll keep first watch.”
Ekko stands up and slaps me on the shoulder as he walks past. The slap knocks me back more than I expect. Xen and Fantom thank me as they follow Ekko into the tent, one-by-one disappearing into their own personal tent as soon as they step through the flap. The fire in the center of the camp burns without ever needing to replace the wood, the flames always at the perfect height. I sit down on one of the stumps, and I see Cyren on the outskirts of the camp, staring up at the stars that are just starting to twinkle.
“You should get some sleep,” I call out to her.
There's a pause, then she turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder.
“I'm not tired.”
I nod my head in agreement and say, “Me neither. I know I should be, but I think my adrenalin is still pumping. Today was...”
“Exciting,” she finishes for me, turning and walking toward the fire.
I smile and say, “I wanted to say that, but-” I look at the tent, making sure everyone is still inside before finishing my sentence. “-I didn't want to make light of the situation. I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm as scared as everyone else.”
“It's okay,” she says, sitting down on the stump across the fire from me. “I understand. It's still a game. It'd be weird if it wasn't at least a little fun.”
011101
The fire makes Cyren's leather straps and metal buckles shine, reflecting the illuminating flames with a shining darkness. She looks like a black mirror.
I lean back and say, “It's nice to finally have some peace and quiet. I'm not used to grouping like this, or being around other players for such a long period of time.”
“You normally play solo?”
I nod and say, “I've just had... more success that way.”
“You mean in the original game?”
“Yeah.”
She looks at the ground with an almost ashamed look on her face. “I never played it.”
“This sequel is completely different anyway.”
Her eyes look at me, wide open and consuming.
“Do you like it better?”
I laugh. “I think it needs a little work.”
“No, no. I mean... if this hadn't happened.”
I consider the question for only a second. “Honestly? I think this place is pretty amazing. I wish I could have played it more.”
She smiles and says, “Me too.”
We both sit in silence for a while, watching the fire crackle in front of us. It's Cyren who finally speaks up again.
“You don't seem comfortable.”
The straightforward statement catches me off guard, and at the same time I love the fact that she isn't dancing around the subject.
“That's another reason I usually play solo.”
“You aren't comfortable around other people?”
I'm about to speak, but I give myself a second to consider my answer. “I just... I don't understand them. The way they interact... the choices they make... none of it makes sense to me. I prefer something with programming. Something that has rules that aren't constantly broken or changed.”
“I know what you mean.”
“You do?”
She nods slowly and says, “I try to watch them and... and to learn from them. I try to figure out what makes them tick... why they do the things they do. But I'm still at a loss.”
“Me too.”
She looks up at me again with her huge eyes, and her black lips slide into a tiny smile. “I think-” She hesitates and looks away from me. “I think you're the first person that I've watched... that I feel like I might understand. Even if it's only a little.”
I'm taken off guard, but my mouth speaks for me. “Really? Why me?”
“I'm not sure I could give you an answer. I think... your logic makes sense to me. You speak your mind, and I appreciate that.”
I'm filled with something that makes me feel weightless. The acceptance of another person has always been meaningless to me, yet here I am, warmed by her simple statement. My mouth opens, and for the first time I'm happy that I'm speaking before my mind can stop me.
“I feel the same way about you.”
She smiles, but the smile is struck from her face, replaced with sadness. “You don't know me.”
I nod and say, “I know. But you're the first person that... I want to know.”
“Why?”
Her face looks defiant. Defensive. I feel like I'm fighting her, instead of standing next to her, fighting against everyone else.
“I just... I thought we seemed a lot alike. If you don't... I mean...”
She shakes her head and says, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It's okay.”
“I think... I think I'm afraid.”
“Of what?”
She considers this for a moment before saying, “You seem like you don't talk to other people because you're not sure you're going to like them.”
“I'm usually sure I'm not going to like them.”
“I'm the exact opposite. I don't talk to people because I'm usually sure they aren't going to like me.”
I feel terrible. I've been talking to her with the same attitude that I talk to everyone with, hoping that she would realize I feel differently about her without having to tell her.
“Cyren, the reason I want to talk to you is because you're the first person I don't feel that way about. I think I would like you... because I think I could understand you. I don't understand anyone else.”
“What about Xen? Isn't he your friend?”
“Xen is... Xen had to fight to be my friend. Trust me, I didn't make it easy for him. In fact, I gave him every reason not to be my friend. We were young when we met. I'm not sure why he still tries so hard.” I pause, a sadness falling over me. “But that's what makes him different, I guess. He's my friend because he always has been. I don't appreciate it... not like I should, but that's because I don't understand it. We have nothing in common. We argue all the time. We spend our spare time doing completely different things. But maybe that's what makes our friendship stronger. Because despite all those differences, we still manage to care about each other.”
“That is... that is beautiful, actually.”
I laugh. “I'm sure Xen would agree with you.”
“What about in the real world?”
I cringe. “What about it?”
“Do you have friends there?”
I stare at the fire for a long time. I'm unsure of how to answer the question. I want to tell her the same thing I told the group during their little sharing session. I want to tell her that there's nothing to say. I want to tell her that the real world doesn't matter, and I don't want to talk about it. But I look up from the fire, into her eyes, and I see a longing to know. She's interested in me in a way that goes beyond the simple small talk people share to fill the silence.
“I try to spend as little time in the real world as possible.”
She nods, her face still sad.
“Something tells me you're the same,” I say.
She looks at me and forces the smallest of smiles. “You'd be right.”
I accept her brief answer with a glance, then I say, “I've just never understood why people think the real world is so important.”
She doesn't say anything.
I continue, not wanting the silence to become uncomfortable. “The people who say that are the same people who spend most of their lives in NextWorld. It's a contradiction I don't understand. It's like they feel that way because they think they're supposed to feel that way, and for no other reason.”
She isn't saying anything, and I'm worried that I'm talking too much. I want to say more, I want to share more, but I have no idea how to do this. I have no idea how this works. Am I supposed to take things slowly, even though we're in a situation that borders on life and death? Do we have time to linger? Do we have time to be patient?
Cyren looks up at the stars and says, “What matters is the present. It matters wher
e you are right now.” She pauses and locks eyes with me. “Your mind is who you are. If your mind is in NextWorld, then that is what matters. Your thoughts are what make you who you are. Your mind is your personality. Your mind is your self, your being. Your friend Xen might call it a soul. But does that exist in your brain, or your body? I think that wherever your thoughts exist, you exist.”
It's like she's reading my thoughts. It's like she's taking the words out of my brain and repeating them back to me. She's explaining exactly how I've been feeling for years, and putting it more eloquently than I ever could.
“I agree. Completely.”
“You do?” she says, looking at me with hope in her eyes.
“Absolutely. People think the real world is meaningful, only because that's where their body is.” I beat my fist against my chest and say, “But this is a body too. This is just as real as that other body. My mind controls both. My mind is who I am.”
She tries to hide her face, but the firelight doesn't let her. It's no longer sadness on her face. I know, because I'm feeling the same thing.
Something more powerful than my social awkwardness lifts me from the stump I'm sitting on and walks me around the fire so that I'm standing next to her hard leather body. She looks up at me, no longer hiding. I reach out and touch her shoulder, which is cold, even though she's sitting so close to the heat of the flames. As soon as the skin of my palm is touching her, she falls against me, wrapping her arms around me. Her body bobs up and down as she weeps, pressing her face into my armored trench coat. I put my other arm around her and squeeze, pressing her closer to me.
I'm not holding her, we're holding each other.
011110
By the time Ekko wakes up to take over the watch, Cyren and I are still sitting next to each other, my arm around her shoulder and her head leaning against me. I instinctively jerk away from her when I see Ekko come out of the tent, even though I'm not sure of what I have to be embarrassed about. When I get up and move toward the tent, I look back at Cyren, who hasn't moved from her place by the fire.
Level Zero Page 14