by Jamie Davis
"I don't even know what format this is. How do I play it?"
"Play it on your Game Station IV or your PC. Either format will work," Tildi said.
"That doesn't even make any sense," Hal said. There was no such thing as a multi format game like that.
"Don't you have to get back to work?" Tildi said.
Hal checked his watch. His eyes widened when he saw twelve fifty-five on the dial. Crap, he had to hurry, or Barry was going to ream him a new one for being late again.
He knew he'd been cheated by the mysterious woman but he had to leave. He'd come back and confront her after work. He’d convince her to give his money back when he returned later. Hal turned and raced back through the crowded flea market towards the street. He dodged between cars crossing the street while horns blew in complaint and ran through the doors just as the clock ticked over to one o'clock.
"Made it just in time, Hal," Barry said standing by Pam's reception desk. "Get back to work and make sure you get that report finished before the end of the day."
Hal ducked back to work in his cubicle, sliding the disc into his lunch bag until he could take it back across the street after work. He was sure he could get Tildi to take it back. She had sold him a bill of goods. There was no way this was a real copy of the unreleased Fantasma game.
Digging into his work to make sure he finished the report before quitting time ensured the rest of the afternoon passed by quickly. Before he knew it, he was packing up his stuff and walking out to the parking lot with the rest of the help desk reps he worked with.
Hal said a few goodbyes to his coworkers and then dodged through the parking lot and across the street to the flea market, once again making his way towards the back of the line of stalls. He had to find Tildi and the gaming table.
He played the conversation he planned to have through in his mind while he wove through the tables. He'd convince her to give him his money back. It was unopened after all. He had been at work and had never had the chance to try out the game. It was still like new.
Hal’s plans to get his money back were dashed when he saw the empty spot in the row up ahead.
"No, no, no," Hal said. "She can't be gone."
But gone she was. The whole table was packed up and the canopy taken down leaving an empty spot in the row of tables and tents. The only thing left in the space was a slip of paper.
Hal bent down and picked up the paper, unfolding it. Hal's shoulders slumped when he saw the note, obviously left just for him. He'd been had. He was the unluckiest guy in the world.
Hal walked away, dropping the note on the ground behind him. It fluttered to the ground, containing only four words.
"See you in Fantasma."
3
HAL HAD nothing but time on his hands driving home. His foot itched to stomp on the accelerator, to race up the road, taking his anger out on the world with gasoline-assisted acceleration and speed. Alas, the heavy rush hour traffic didn't allow him that luxury and, knowing his luck, he'd get nailed for a speeding ticket by one of those damned traffic cameras hidden around the city.
When traffic came to a complete stop only twenty minutes from home, Hal decided if this was how his weekend alone started, the rest was going to suck, too. He glanced at his watch and cursed.
It was his day to pick up Cari from daycare, and he was going to be late at this rate. Damn. He'd have been on time if he hadn't taken the time to run through the flea market trying to get his money back. Now he had a choice of paying the late pickup fee or calling Mona and asking her to divert on her way home to pick up the baby.
Remembering he didn't have any cash left to pay the late fee, Hal pulled out his phone and stared at the favorites screen for a long time, his finger hovering over the phone's glass touchscreen dreading the coming conversation.
He lowered his finger and tapped his wife's number. Of course, she picked up right away.
"Hi, Honey. I'm almost home," Mona said. "I stopped by the grocery store to get more baby food for the trip. I got you some things you like for your weekend, too."
Hal cursed under his breath. Why did she have to be so awesome all the time?
"Uh, Mona, I'm stuck in traffic on the freeway. I'm going to be late getting Cari, and I don't have any cash on me. Can you swing by and get her for me?"
"Hal, I've got groceries to unload. Why are you late?" Mona said. Her voice had turned to ice in record time.
"I got tied up at work talking to Barry," Hal lied. He winced. He was a terrible liar.
"Bullshit, Hal. You hate Barry," Mona said. "If you aren't going to tell me the truth, at least do me the favor of not insulting my intelligence. You'll just have to stop at the ATM and get cash for the late fee. I have groceries that will spoil if I turn around now."
"Sorry," Hal said. "I just thought I'd ask. I'll get her and see you in an hour or so."
Mona didn't say anything, disconnecting the call without a word.
Well, now she's going to be pissed at me for making her late getting to her mother's, Hal thought to himself.
Hal resigned himself to ending another crappy week with a run of colossal bad luck.
By the time he made it to Happy Faces daycare, it was almost up to the second hour's late fee.
Hal turned into the strip mall where the day care was located and parked on the curb in front in the fire lane. He hurried so fast getting out of the car, he tripped over the curb and skidded to the pavement.
Pain flared in his knee.
Hal reached down with one hand, and it came away feeling sticky. He looked at his palm, now smeared with bright red blood. A glance at his knee showed a rip in his new slacks and a spreading stain of blood on the fabric.
Pushing himself to his feet, Hal limped up to the day care's door.
"Hello, Mr. Dix," Karen the day care's owner said. "You know you're late again. You do remember we agreed I could no longer waive the late fee."
"I remember. I remember," Hal barked. "I got caught in traffic, that's all. Here's the money. Can I get Cari now?"
"Sure, she's in the back in the bouncy seat."
Hal left Karen folding the crisp twenty-dollar-bill, fresh from the ATM. He stepped into the room and heard a familiar babbling.
Cari Dix bounced in the chair suspended by bungie cords from the door frame. Her pudgy legs worked overtime when she saw Hal, and her arms reached out to him.
Her smile melted away some of his sour mood. Hal could see the two shiny new teeth in her otherwise toothless mouth. He could never stay angry very long when Cari was around. She was about the only thing in his life going well right now.
Hal picked her up.
"Come on, sweetie. Let's get you home. Mommy's waiting for you."
"We'll see you and Cari on Monday, Mr. Dix," Karen said. "Have a nice weekend."
"Uh, my wife's traveling to her parents' house again this weekend. Cari won't be back in until Tuesday."
"Good to know," Karen said. "The price for the week is the same regardless."
"What a racket," Hal murmured under his breath.
"What was that, Mr. Dix?"
"Have a good weekend, Karen," Hal called out as he left the day care behind him.
By the time he got home, he was an hour and a half late, and Hal knew Mona would be fuming. She hated driving at night, and this would disrupt Cari's sleep schedule, too.
Mona met him at the door, taking Cari from him.
"Take the suitcases and the diaper bag out to the car for me. I'm already late enough."
"Yes, dear."
Hal set his briefcase and lunch bag down and picked up the two suitcases and the diaper bag Mona packed for the trip. It was only a three-day weekend. What could she possibly pack that filled two suitcases for herself and a one-year-old baby over three days?
Mona walked down the front steps of their town home and handed Cari to him to put in her car seat. Hal leaned down and placed the baby in her seat, buckling her in and double checking it was secure.
His wife handed him a bottle which he gave to Cari. She popped it in her mouth and began draining the formula. He kissed her forehead and climbed out of the back seat.
When he stood up, Mona thrust a piece of paper into his hands.
"What's this?" Hal asked.
"I had some extra time while I was waiting for you so I made a list of things you can get done while there's no one home to bother you this weekend," Mona said. "You shouldn't be wasting the entire time playing video games. There's plenty of work to be done around the house."
Hal looked at the list, resisting the urge to ball it up in his fist. Mona never reacted well when he pushed back at times like this.
"Have a safe trip, honey," Hal said. "I'll see you when you get home."
Mona started the car and put the driver's window down.
"Look," Mona said, giving him a half-smile. "Just try and get some of the stuff on that list done. You'll feel better if you accomplish something while I’m gone."
Hal nodded and waved her off. She pulled away from the curb and drove off, heading to visit her mom and dad, both of whom were no fans of Hal's. She always came back from these little excursions to her childhood home super critical. He suspected this time would be no different.
When he got back inside, Hal dug in the side pocket of his shoulder bag, pulling out the clear plastic disc case with the supposed bootleg copy of World of Fantasma inside. He set it down on the counter next to the list of things he was supposed to do that weekend.
Staring at his choices, he saw a chance at some fun or a weekend of drudgery. Play the hottest video game to come out in years or clean the gutters?
It wasn't much of a choice when it came right down to it. Mona would be angry, but she'd get over it.
Picking up the disc, Hal figured he could at least get the game started and a few quest assignments under his belt before he made dinner. There were a few microwave taquitos in the freezer calling his name.
He still didn't think the disc would play in his PC, but he was pleasantly surprised when the game showed as loading into the hard drive after he popped the disc in the drive.
Hal grabbed himself a can of beer from the fridge and settled down into his chair while he waited for the game to load.
4
THE GAME ICON STARTED BLINKING, and Hal pressed the return key on his keyboard after selecting World of Fantasma from the menu that popped up. He took a sip of beer while the opening cut scene loaded. He saw a bird's eye view of a passing landscape ending on a sea cliff overlooking a large medieval town below.
A prompt at the bottom of the screen drew Hal's attention away from the magnificent graphics.
Do you wish to enter the world of Fantasma? Press return to agree.
That was strange. It was almost as if he was signing a release before doing something like bungie jumping.
He tapped the key, and the screen shifted to a selection screen where he could choose his character's class, race, and assign other statistics. He perused the options, ultimately selecting a human rogue to play as.
The character attributes consisted of: Brawn, Intelligence, Luck, Speed, Health, and Looks. They all began with base stats of eight. Hal had an additional ten ability points to divide up between the attributes to customize his character.
On a whim, Hal added all ten of the extra points to his luck score. He was so unlucky today; he figured he could use some additional luck in the game. He'd be able to level up and add to the other stats soon enough through the course of the game.
He looked over the character, he'd created. He only had to name his character, and he could proceed. Hal decided on his default gaming name, Rothar. When he tried to enter it, though, the game auto-filled his own name into the field. Try as he might, he couldn't change his rogue's name from "Hal."
"It must be a glitch in the bootleg," Hal thought aloud. "Screw it, let's play this thing. I can be Hal, the Rogue."
He selected done, and another strange prompt came up.
Do you wish to enter the world of Fantasma? This is your last chance to back out. Press enter to agree.
Weird.
"I agree, I agree, dammit. Start the damned game."
Hal's thumb mashed down the return key as he yelled at the game.
The screen turned white for a moment, and Hal was sure the bootleg had fried his system. He started to restart his operating system when the center of the screen began flickering. The monitor’s screen held his gaze as the flickering began to spread across the whole face of the display.
Hal tried to look away from the flickering colors but found he could not. In fact, his vision began to blacken at the edges, and his peripheral vision closed in until all he could see was the center of the screen. His ears started ringing, and his head swam as the whole room began to spin. He fell back into the chair, dropping the beer can to the floor.
A voice called out to him from the flickering colors swirling on the screen in front of him and he felt himself answer.
"I'm coming."
The black tunnel vision closed in until his eyes saw only a tiny pinpoint of light and the ringing he heard grew in volume to a roaring cacophony of sound.
Through it all, he heard a final voice, that of Tildi from the game vendor's stall at the flea market.
"Welcome to Fantasma, Hal Dix."
5
THE STENCH of raw sewage and rotted fish filled Hal's nostrils when he gasped and drew in a deep breath. He opened his eyes and blinked several times trying to make sense of the scene before him.
He was lying on his side on an uneven and unyielding surface. Hal tried to sit up, but his head was still spinning like it had when he was sitting in his desk chair. He closed his eyes to stop the spinning and lowered himself back to the -- cobblestones?
His fingers probed the rough curved stones next to his head. They certainly felt like cobblestones to him. Forcing his eyes open again, Hal looked around without moving his head. The spinning sensation lessened with each passing moment, and he didn't feel like he was going to vomit anymore.
The wall directly in front of him was made of close-fitting stone blocks, rising up for two stories to a thatched roof above. There were several windows in the side of the building. Hal watched as one of them opened, a woman in an archaic brown dress and white apron threw open the shutters and dumped a large ceramic bowl out into the street below.
That had to be a chamber pot, and that meant that the contents were...well that explained the smell of raw sewage. Hal forced himself to roll over and look in the other direction. He discovered he was in a small, dead-end alley, lined with cobblestones with a narrow gutter in the center of the street flowing with water and human waste.
Hal noticed he was not wearing the clothes he had been wearing. He was now wearing some sort of rough spun pants that itched at his legs like burlap. His shirt looked and felt like a cotton shirt he'd bought once at the Ren Faire. The sleeves were baggy and tied at the wrist with strips of leather. Hal's feet were covered only with a pair of lace up leather sandals. They didn't look all that sturdy.
The noise of the nearby street drew his attention. Throngs of strangely dressed people passed by the mouth of the alley in both directions. A wagon passed, pulled by a sway-backed gray horse, the animal pressing through the crowded street without regard to who or what it stepped on in the process.
Hal rolled to his hands and knees, then rose unsteadily to his feet. This all felt so real, but it must be a dream. Maybe the broken game disc had caused him to have a seizure. If that was the case, he was going to track down that Tildi and her boss, Dave, and sue, them both for everything they owned.
First, he had to fight his way out of whatever stupor this dream or hallucination caused.
Hal pinched his forearm with his thumb and forefinger, trying to wake himself up. He felt the pain, but nothing changed. Pressing harder, Hal winced as his thumbnail dug into his skin hard enough to leave a red mark. Still, nothing changed. What the hell
was going on here?
At least his head had stopped spinning. He took a few tentative steps forward towards the alley's opening. He expected to see one of the people passing by to notice him. A few glanced in his direction, looked him over and then went back to whatever task they were on.
Hal reached out and grabbed a woman in a blue dress and brown apron. She wore a white bonnet.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Can you tell me where I am?"
"Get your filthy hands off me, drunkard," the woman said, pulling her arm from his grasp. "It's not my job to tell you where your night of ill-gotten spirits has left you. Leave me be."
"Please," Hal implored her. "Something is wrong. I don't belong here." He grabbed at her arm again, holding on with a stronger grip this time.
"Is this man bothering you, my good woman?" a man said stepping away from the passing crowd and moving between Hal and the woman. He placed one hand on Hal's chest pressing him backward. Hal noticed the man's other hand rested on the pommel of a short sword hanging from his belt.
"This drunkard is lost and can't be bothered to find his own way home. I told him it's not my job to point him in the right direction, but he grabbed my arm anyway."
"I suggest, sir, cease bothering this good woman," the man said. He gripped a handful of Hal's shirt and pulled him forward, leaning in until they were face to face. "I'd hate to have to make an example of you here in front of this woman. I'm sure she has no desire to see you gutted like a fish here on the street."
"Now, there's no need for violence," Hal said. He held up his hands in surrender and took a step backward into the alley.
Hal started to say something more, but he stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of a slot machine rattling as its markers spun past the window. He could almost see the spinning dials in his head. Where was that noise coming from?
A chime sounded as the slot machine sound stopped. The woman looked down at her arm then at the man facing Hal.