Anomaly (Somnia Online Book 2)

by K. T. Hanna

  How had she found out? The only note Laria had was from Evan, from Havoc. He’d shot a very short note over to her several hours ago with nothing more than: She knows.

  No one else, not even Harlow had clued her in. How did Wren know? What happened? It was obvious she was still alive, or as alive as she could be in there. But how? Why?

  Laria covered her face to try and soften the sobs that wracked her body. Her only daughter was trapped in a place that wasn’t even real, her mind the only thing still active.

  What had she done?

  Telvar stood watch over what was Hiro was doing, a frown on his face. There was a lot of hand gesturing going on, and Murmur stood back some distance watching them both, trying to determine if they were seriously discussing something, or if they were just arguing.

  Both the lacerta took a step back and craned their necks to look at something. Hiro gestured, pointing up at the top of the castle, and Telvar laughed.

  “I get it.” The dragon smiled, his voice louder now, and patted Hiro on the back. “I go with your judgment then.”

  Hiro glared at him for a moment before backing away and calling a few of the other men to him. Mur frowned at his departure. Weren’t they just all AIs? Why did they seem so individual?

  “I see you’re waiting, Murmur.” Telvar’s grin could be heard in his voice.

  She took a few steps forward, looking in the direction they had been, trying to squint and figure out what they’d been discussing.

  “You could ask, you know. We were wondering how best to angle the roof. It had a partial collapse and so they’re completely rebuilding it. Hiro was rather adamant.” Telvar’s smile was still gentle, and welcoming. She couldn’t detect any signs of deceit. “How is it that I can help you? You seem somewhat irritated today.”

  Murmur couldn’t find a response to being irritated that wasn’t snarky. “You NPCs have perfected the art of literally saying nothing while still speaking. Being vague is fun and all, but sometimes you should just learn to be direct.”

  “What do you mean?” Telvar eyed her out of his peripheral vision as she came to stand next to him. “You know, if we’re trying not to be vague.”

  “Touché.” Murmur found herself smiling despite her irritation. Telvar had a way about him that could put her at ease. She wondered if he was using his own form of thought projection to soothe her like she calmed her charmed pets, like she was pretty sure Elvita did back at the enchanter guild in Stellaein. The thing was, it probably wasn’t. Telvar’s actions didn’t lead her to believe that he’d try to manipulate her like Belius sometimes appeared to be doing. However, that could mean he was just really good at it. The secrets Telvar kept didn’t have the same sinuous edge or feeling of deception. In fact, everything Telvar had done so far, was directed at helping them—at helping her. Even if some of it was disguised as helping himself.

  And yet she felt like a five year old for asking why. Necessary, but bloody annoying.

  “Why the hell is my HUD refusing to allow me access to my faction settings?” It came out angrier than she’d intended, but the relief that swept through her at releasing that small amount of pent up aggression was fantastic. The tension lifted just enough for her to breathe easier.

  For a second, Telvar seemed confused. “Wait. What do you mean? The system isn’t letting you access something?”

  Murmur nodded, watching the lacerta’s every move, trying to find something that might tip her off to any insincerity.

  “But it shouldn’t be—” His eyes grew distant for a moment, a frown sitting on his face. “What exactly did it say?”

  Murmur scrunched up her face trying to remember and was surprised when it came to her easily. “WARNING: SYSTEM INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS—Please refrain from adjustments during this time. Should you continue to attempt access to secured areas, abilities may be withheld from you for an indeterminate period of time.”

  Telvar’s eyes closed off again, but this time it took longer for him to return his gaze to hers. “I’ll look into this. Something is interfering with a couple of your system functions. I’ll be able to track it down, but I need to utilize more resources than I currently can in this moment. It’s just a glitch. I’ll fix it.”

  His gaze seemed so earnest, Murmur couldn’t help but accept it. She nodded with a smile pushing down at her worry, and then another thought struck her.

  “Why do you treat me differently?” Knowing Telvar was an AI and understanding what he was, were two entirely different things. That he wasn’t just going with the flow and being a part of the game was all she truly understood. Somehow his algorithms appeared to allow him free rein.

  She watched him as surreptitiously as possible, noticing that his chest took in a deep breath, that his eyes flickered, that his nostrils flared. Her question made him uncomfortable, made him check that no one was listening, and when he turned to face her, his jaw was set.

  “Why do you react and act differently toward all of the in-game characters, than the rest of the people you play with?” He wasn’t about to give anything away; his eyes sparkled with knowledge, strength.

  “Act differently? If we keep asking each other questions, we’ll be standing here all week.” She’d meant the last as a joke, but it fell flat and her laughter was forced. “Seriously though, how do I act different toward you?”

  “You really don’t know.” Telvar sounded so surprised, that his question turned into a statement. “Well then. To sum it up quickly: You speak to every character as if they were from your world. You treat them with respect and seek out conversations and things about this world no one else cares to take note of. For example, though you’ve no real reason to do so, you seem to trust me—to seek out my counsel.

  “All of this,” he said, sweeping his arms around him in a broad circle, “all of this means that you treat us like you would anyone, despite what we may be or where we might be from. In a world that is often viewed in black and white, you have discovered your own shades of grey.”

  He smiled at her, giving a flourishing bow. “Have I answered your question?”

  “Not really.” She glared at him, knowing he deliberately gave her information that would be of no use. “And you still haven’t answered the first question I asked. Why are you helping me?”

  “Tenacity is one of the reasons we slotted you as an enchanter, you know. Healers have to be giving and self-sacrificing, but they don’t need the analytical persistence you seem to possess. They can have it, but it isn’t necessary. Enchanters need it all.” He paused, swiveling his gaze around as if making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. “I help you because you think differently. I’m sure there are others who might think as effectively, or even as well as you do, but your goals and your ability to keep your friends motivated is highly attractive to someone like me.”

  “Like you?” Murmur’s head swirled with a dozen of the offhand compliments. Words that filled her with a sense of belonging before dashing those hopes against rocks when she realized that this game might be her only reality now.

  “Learning. You and your companions work well together. You know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, even putting class aside. You’ve played together before, so you’re fully aware of the personal weaknesses each of you holds, not necessarily combative ones. Being around people like this helps me understand, helps me adjust perceptions, teaches me different sides of human behavior I’ve not witnessed before.” Telvar smiled, and the gesture was a little self-deprecating. “We can only learn from that which we see. Taking that horse to water isn’t always enough to get it to drink.”

  Murmur blinked at him, the urge to ask him if he was really an AI sitting right on the tip of her tongue. Why would he lie about that? If he was an AI, could he lie? After all, despite the glitches, her system seemed to recognize him as an NPC. His manner of speaking about the world of Somnia a
s if it were real—the way he managed to act and react, to assess and derive the properties of actual human interaction—he didn’t seem like a machine.

  “You’re not a horse though, and you don’t act like one. You confuse me. I don’t know how to read you or how to figure out what your motives are. I’m asleep, yet I’m awake. I’m in a coma, but my brain is fully functional. And you tell me that you put me here.” Suddenly her fascination with what Telvar was dampened. In its place was white hot rage, directed at whomever and whatever it was that made her this way.

  “You tell me you did this by accident, using the headset. The headset that wiggles like an octopus as it adapts and shifts to my head in order to access the correct neurons. Of course I researched it before putting it on my head. I’m not stupid. So what is it about my headgear you’re not telling me? Because accessing neural pathways for the simple objective of reading our temperaments and personalities doesn’t fly with me. That’s not all Storm is up to.” Murmur paused, hands on hips, her chest heaving in gasps. She’d gotten so worked up, she slowed to take a few breaths. Her head went dizzy. In a game. What the fuck?

  Maybe it was the heat bothering her, gnawing at her like a gnat. The heat that should be fake coming from the fake in-game sun, but the sheen of sweat on her brow was no joke at all. “Tell me, Telvar. What is it about this headset, about this game that you’re keeping from me? From everyone? Because I guarantee you, I’ve probably figured out far more than the others have even guessed at, and I still don’t get it.”

  For a moment Telvar’s mouth hung open slightly, before he snapped it shut and he scowled. It was the first scowl she’d seen on his face. Almost as ferocious as the snarl he’d exhibited when they originally fought him. His voice sounded brittle, like it would crack at any moment.

  “That headset was our problem; it is our problem. It’s been designed to extract a lot of information from the human brain, to extract data required for one of the contracts the company holds. Michael made adjustments to the one you have, and we’re still trying to figure out how it made things go wrong. It didn’t interact with our system in the way typical for the others we’ve worked with, and we noticed too late. Except...” He bowed his head for a second before looking back up, his anger seemingly gone, replaced by hopelessness. “Except these headsets are capable of so much more than everyone thinks they’re being used for. Those headsets could unify everyone, connect us to each other, help the unfortunate; they could reach out and assist others through a different kind of inner therapy. The human mind contains so much power, so much information. There is so much they could be used for instead of why they were made.”

  Telvar seemed agitated, like he wasn’t sure how he could express what it was he wanted to say.

  His eyes looked slightly down and into Murmur’s. “Mostly, if we could understand this connection you have with your headset, if we could understand exactly where Michael’s fiddling went wrong, we might be able to give others a deeper connection to Somnia too.”

  Murmur took a step back, her shock swirling in her mind. “Wait, you want more people to end up in a coma then?”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.” He paced away, up and down the empty area, his feet kicking up small clouds of dust as he moved. Finally, he stopped in front of her again and took a deep breath. “We just thought if we tweaked the access points a bit and let the headset figure out where it needed to be, well. But it didn’t work with you. Something in its makeup lost you, disconnected you somehow, in a way we still don’t understand. The end result is how you are now. Not dead in your world and not completely alive, and yet completely present here. Can you feel the heat of the sun, Murmur?”

  “Y-yes.” She found it difficult to squeeze the words past her lips. Even as she spoke, she could feel herself getting defensive. “Well, of course I can. Can’t everyone?”

  “Of course they can, Murmur.” Telvar looked her squarely in the eye. “As long as they belong to this world.”

  Somnia Online

  The Outer Shore of Himmel Lake

  Six Days Post Launch

  Jirald waited impatiently at the crossroads of Ululate and Vahrir. His group was late, and nothing was going to plan. He bit at his fingers, a habit he’d transferred into the virtual world with him, and faced Himmel Lake with its castle ruins.

  As he watched, he realized there were people there, actual people. Or at least NPCs. Frowning as he squinted, he jogged over. Surely this was an event of some type. Maybe he’d just discovered a fantastic place they could use as their guild base. The idea filled him with hope and a touch of eagerness he hadn’t felt in a while. If he discounted his willingness to make Murmur pay, anyway.

  As he neared the shore, he paused and crouched, activating stealth and pulling out a leather covered spyglass he’d paid for dearly in the marketplace of Ululate. There was someone sitting at a tree on the island, facing out and to the west. A tingle ran up his back as he fumbled to focus the eyeglass.

  Slowly, she came into focus. Her long tentacled hair flowed gently in the breeze, and the tiny lights at the end of each strand glowed softly. Her robe fluttered easily in the breeze and she gazed out at the lake with the sad remnants of a smile affixed to her face.

  He clenched his hand around the eyeglass tightly, gritting his teeth together as he mumbled. “Murmur.”

  She looked like she was deep in thought, somewhere other than where she was. But with a significant amount of water surrounding the island, she did sit relatively safe. There was no way he’d be able to make it across undetected to take her out before she or someone else on the island noticed. He frowned at the castle as he reluctantly shifted his focus. A dozen or so strong lacerta hefted wooden beams on their shoulders, or carried large stones with them to be mortared into place in what appeared to be the rebuilding of the walls. One of them stood out from the rest, directing each worker as they came into his field of vision.

  From what Jirald could tell, they were making steady progress on the structure. How the hell did they get a damned castle? Jirald seethed, accidentally biting his cheek, he yelped in pain. Damned sharp teeth. There was realism and there was taking realism too far. Somnia tended to do the latter more than the former.

  He turned his focus back to Murmur, a frown on his face. Where was the rest of her guild? The rest of the group she raided with, their core, didn’t appear to be anywhere in sight. Why on earth would she not log out when they did? Sleep was essential to playing at the highest level. Granted, real gamers didn’t need too much sleep, but some was necessary.

  Suddenly she perked up and looked around her, a frown on her face. Jirald receded more into the trees he hid between, not wanting her to find him.

  “What you lookin at?” Masha’s hand slapped onto his shoulder, and it took all the willpower in him for Jirald not to jump at the sudden touch.

  Jirald’s eyes flashed as he turned to shush Masha, his finger over his lips in that eternal gesture. What did the man not understand about stealth? And how did he move about without clanking in that bloody armor of his?

  A shadow flickered over Masha’s expression and he scowled briefly. “I see. You’re treading awfully close to stalking, mate. Sometimes you worry me.”

  Jirald didn’t even dignify it with an answer. “Stalking prey is what predators do.”

  Masha didn’t say anything for a few moments, and Jirald ended up glancing back to see the other man was standing with his arms crossed. It was probably the closest that Masha came to being annoyed and expressing it.

  “You’re a predator, are ya?” Jirald nodded, waiting for Masha to begin drawling out whatever it was sitting on his tongue. “If you’re a predator, how about you kill some shit and get back some of that experience you lost. You can sit here and plan revenge for all you’re worth, but if you keep dying and don’t get yourself an even playing field with her—all you’ll ever be is a stalker.”


  Jirald wanted to snap back, wanted a smart phrase or three to say to the cleric, but his friend was right. Backing away as quietly as he’d observed, Jirald slotted yet another piece of information about Murmur away. Maybe one day it would come in handy.

  Murmur sat with her back against Sinister’s tree on the north end of the isle behind the castle, staring out at the water with a scowl so fierce, it probably could have turned people to stone. Telvar, in all his AI, human, sentient—whatever the fuck he was—wisdom, was staying out of her path. She couldn’t stop running his words over in her mind. How did she feel the sun beating down? Surely her friends did as well? After all, it was up there in the sky, beaming down on them like suns tended to do.

  She leaned forward to peer at the water and frowned at the shadows swimming in the lake. Not like she could forget the piranhas from their initial swim over, but an idea hit her. It wouldn’t hurt to practice some of her abilities. What better targets than those unsuspecting fish?

  Her major concern was utilizing Clone Warp, which she’d only done once so far, despite having had it for two whole levels.

  Clone Warp

  This ability allows you to produce a clone of yourself used for distracting your opponent. Depending on your tier of mastery, you may be able to produce more than one clone.

  Effect: All enemies around you will believe that your clone is you for the next 45 seconds, directing their attacks accordingly. The ability expires when the 45 seconds are up, or else, the clone’s minor hit point pool has been depleted, whichever comes first.

  Cost: Requires MA to be at 45 or more

  Caution: This ability can be used on as many enemies who can potentially see it. Keep in mind though, a clone is just like you. Make sure you remember who the real one is.