Glass Town Wars

by Celia Rees

  He was the Game Master aka Sinbad, founder and owner of Magic Carpet, the darknet empire, but nobody here knew that. He was hiding in plain sight, known only by his choice of coffee, which changed from coffee shop to coffee shop, chain to chain.

  He took his usual spot in the corner, back to the wall, and had a look around, like he always did. Being careful had become second nature, but no one stood out. A few guys like him, lost in their laptops, a table of hockey moms fresh from the gym, drinking herb teas.

  There was a trainee barista, but the usual girl made his coffee. She knew him, knew his order: decaf soy latte in his keep cup. He liked her—she was pretty, with brown eyes and a shiny ponytail, and she always smiled at him. She was smiling now as she brought his coffee over and stamped his loyalty card.

  He powered up his laptop. He sipped his soy latte. Time to check what was happening. There were many sides to his business but only one interested him right now.

  He clicked through the files. Zombie Apocalypse, Asylum, Deserted Village. Nothing special about the games. Standard. Generic, even. Tom would’ve recognized them, in type if not specifics. Innovation wasn’t the name of this game. He wanted gamers to choose their favourites from what was familiar to them.

  Spooked by the Lost Village video, Tom and Emily should have reached Terrorist Train. He clicked on the file. It was still in the Lost Village station. Blood seeping down on to the track. Nice detail, that. Perhaps they’d already boarded. He took a view down through the carriages.

  Corpses in place, sprawled across the seats and into the aisle, blood pooling and running across the floor. Flies buzzing. He couldn’t access it here, but there would be the smell: the slightest hint of decay under the metallic reek of fresh blood mixed with cordite.

  He took his view into the next carriage. Two men standing in the aisle, AK-47s pointing up, balanced on their hips. All in black, faces scarfed, heads swathed, webbing over their combats, sewn with pouches and all wired up. Ready to go. Except the game hadn’t been triggered. Neither had Grand Theft Auto—there were always two ways to go. That was a shame. He almost felt sorry that Tom hadn’t had a chance to test himself there. He had a feeling the boy would have been good.

  He sat back. His latte was cold, so he ordered another. He clicked back. They were still in the village playing happy families. Their reluctance to engage was frustrating. He’d have to send in special forces to extract them. He was tempted to dump them in a war zone; he had plenty of scenarios to choose from, anything from Roman Legions to World War Three. Something with modern battlefield action: tanks and gunships. See how they liked that. But there had been some suspicious traffic on the site lately.

  He looked around again. The hockey moms had been replaced by a younger crew with strollers. A boy and a girl who looked like college students were setting themselves up to work together. The girl smiled, so he smiled back. Best to be sociable. Nothing exceptional. No one out of the ordinary.

  He relaxed and turned back to his laptop. He began to click keys. Time to collect them and have them brought to his own favourite place to be.

  THEY WERE FLYING OVER a crowded cityscape fretted against a dark and stormy sky; the setting sun gleamed sulphur yellow through clouds of gunmetal grey. Crooked lines of lightning cast a lurid glow over a sprawl of tall buildings, monolithic structures stepped like ziggurats, row houses, factory chimneys, warehouses and storage facilities, long canyons between skyscrapers, twisting alleys leading to the docks. Rain spread and streaked across the windscreen in front of them. Rain and darkness; the vintage look of it, art deco with noirish touches.

  A powerful searchlight intermittently swept the sky. To Emily it looked like an inverted “W”, but Tom recognized it as the Bat Signal. This was Gotham City.

  The craft landed and they stepped out on to a wide-roofed terrace. Carved gargoyles: devils, dragons and mythical beasts jutted out from the corners of the building, their scaly stone wings spread, claws and teeth bared at the city streets that ran far, far below.

  “Welcome back.”

  Avatar Rogue stepped out from the open doors of a glass dome set into the roof. Rogue in a sharp suit, channelling Bruce Wayne rather than the Caped Crusader.

  “I hope you enjoyed my little tour. You were in no real danger, of course.” He looked at Tom. “You acquitted yourself well. I had more treats in store, but time grows short. I’m almost ready to put my plans into action. Soon I will be welcoming many more to join me. Gotham City will be a popular destination. The gamers who come here can be part of this world. They will be in the game. Part of it.” He stared out at the darkened cityscape. “Isn’t that what people have always wanted? Since the first shadow plays on cave walls? Haven’t we always wanted to be in the story, from listening to the storyteller sitting by the fire, to reading a novel, watching a film or box set, playing a game? Isn’t it all the same desire to escape from the everyday, the mundane? Not just as a spectator, as part of the action. The all-round experience. No screens, no barriers. To be able to smell and feel as well as hear and see. What if you could live in the story for ever? What if it became your world?”

  Tom felt a deep chill. He remembered the screens playing in Avatar Rogue’s Silicon Valley headquarters. It wasn’t just zombies and superheroes. Some of the games he’d seen up there were for much younger players: Zoo World, Sally’s Farm, Izzy Bizzy—his little cousin played those and she was three years old.

  Tom shook his head. “This is crazy. This has to stop.”

  Rogue ignored Tom, addressing Emily, his eyes intense, burning. “You must understand, if anybody can.”

  “Oh, I understand.” Emily stared back at him. “And I agree with Tom.”

  “Crazy or not, it is going to happen. I’m going to change the world as we know it. Roll this out to the gaming population. I have amassed millions of contacts, names, addresses—”

  “Amassed?” Tom laughed. “You mean hacked.”

  “How I came by them is no matter. Soon, everyone on my database will be getting one of these through the post.” He held up a small plastic box. “It contains the Echeneis strip, just like the one you have, Tom. Its use will spread like wildfire via social media. Millions upon millions, the youth of the world and older, will be checking out of this life and into another.”

  “Will they be able to escape?” Tom thought of his own predicament, the helplessness he felt.

  “Why would they want to escape? Would you not rather be here than in your hospital bed?”

  “And if they are hurt—die, even?” Tom felt the throb of the cut on his hand, the ache of the bullet wound in his shoulder.

  Avatar Rogue’s voice became cold. “That’s the choice they make.”

  “Why are you doing it? To hold the world to ransom?”

  “For money, you mean?” He laughed. “I don’t need money. I have more money than I could spend in a lifetime. Several lifetimes.”

  “So why then?”

  “Because I can. I’ll be doing mankind a favour. Providing an escape from everyday boredom. People are spending more than nine hours a day online. Well, now they can live there. A virtual life—so much more exciting. Wouldn’t you agree, Tom? Or would you rather be back in that bed? Do you have nothing to say?”

  What is the use of arguing? Tom felt all the strength leach from him, as if he really was back in hospital, unable to move.

  “Your silence speaks for you. No power on earth can stop me! Least of all you. You brought Emily to me, so you are of no more use to me. I could send you off to battle through one world after another, or down to the streets below to be perpetually hunted, but I will be merciful. I’m deactivating the Echeneis that my associate inserted and sending you back to your own world. Such as it is.” He turned to Emily. “You and I will work here together. With your mind, your imagination, there is nothing we can’t do.”

  Before Avatar Rogue could touch her, Emily took Tom’s hand and ran to the very edge of the roof. She steadied herself on the
stone back of the rearing, fork-tongued gryphon, his stone face soot-stained and streaked as if his red eye was weeping for the city below. She looked out for a moment. It was like Glass Town but greater and more decayed. Dark and dirty, with a perpetual rain falling, all shades of black and grey. Stay here? With him?

  She stepped out, taking Tom with her, and they began to fall into the shadow.

  NO!

  The scene he’d been viewing had disappeared. The screen was black. He stared at the blankness, uncompre-hending. Hit keys.

  Nothing doing.

  Then two letters appeared inside an oval, black on white:

  M ♦ M

  This site has been shut down.

  Enquiries will be redirected.

  Nice working with you.

  Milo

  Before he had time to react, before he had time to take in what he was seeing, or even register that the message was in Greek, one of the young moms leapt over to grab his laptop, and the trainee barista and the smiley student girl were cuffing him.

  THEY NEVER HIT THE GROUND. No dark glitter of glass, no sidewalk rushing up to meet them. The gothic streetscape—the soaring skyscrapers and narrow canyons, dark towers and monoliths, monuments, mansions and civic buildings—had disappeared. They were in a darkness so absolute it seemed physical. Solid. Like they were falling through soot, or Indian ink.

  Tom didn’t know where Avatar Rogue was. He might have been flying next to them, batwings extended, but he didn’t think so. He was pretty sure they were completely alone. As alone as it is possible to be in this world or any other. His grip on Emily’s hand tightened. At least they had each other.

  The blackness went on and on. There was no light. No light anywhere. A total eclipse, like all the light in the world had gone out. A blackness so complete you couldn’t tell whether your eyes were shut or open. Tom felt fear close around him like the darkness. This was how he’d felt after his accident. But he could touch. He could feel. And he was not alone. Emily’s hand in his was warm and clutching on so hard that her nails were making him wince. He was glad of the pain.

  “I’m frightened,” she said, not an emotion he’d ever heard her express before. She spoke in a whisper, as though the admission had been dragged out of her.

  “Me, too,” Tom whispered back and put his arm round her. Whatever was happening here, they were in it together.

  “What’s happened?” she asked.

  “I… I really don’t know,” he answered.

  He thought he knew, but had no idea how to explain it to her. All the places they’d been, ever since Glass Town (and how real was that?)—none of it had been real. It had all been computer generated. He suspected that the system had crashed.

  “Wait. There’s a light.” Emily looked down at the bracelet she wore. On the inside of her wrist, the stone was giving off a faint, greenish glow. As they watched, it grew stronger. “Perhaps we can use it to see our way out of here?”

  “The light’s not strong enough for that.”

  Tom shook his head. He didn’t want to say it, but even a battery of klieg lights wouldn’t be strong enough. He didn’t think there was a way out of here. They were trapped in some kind of cyber limbo. The darkness that engulfed them could go on for ever.

  EVIL TECHIE GENIUS TAKEN DOWN

  Dark Web Empire Uncovered

  MILO SCROLLED THROUGH the headlines with satisfaction and pride. It didn’t matter that he’d been deeply involved, up to his neck in it—he’d done the correct thing, right? Gone to the Feds, helped with their investigation, shopped Sinbad, the guy behind it all, the one he’d been working for, and earned immunity from prosecution, which was something, since pretty much all he’d worked for had gone pear-shaped and he’d been hit where it hurt—in his pocket.

  So he might have merited a Well done, Milo. You did the right thing there, Milo. Saved the day, but no. She was still looking at him like something unpleasant she’d found in the tread of her trainer.

  “What were you expecting?” Lucy said as she stirred the chocolate into her cappuccino.

  They were in the hospital cafeteria. Milo was here most days now and they’d taken to having coffee together.

  “You only did what any decent human being would do.” She gave a half-smile. “Given what you were before, that is some sort of achievement, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?” Milo sat up in his seat. “I saved the world from Mindcraft Apocalypse and all that other dark-web stuff he was operating. I’m a hero! A lot of people were seriously upset. I’ve had death threats. All sorts. Well,” he said, stirring sugar into his coffee, “I would have if they knew who I was.”

  He’d stolen a goodly amount of data from Magic Carpet, and M & M Enterprises was about to go global with Magic Carpet Reloaded, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

  “How did you do it? Correction: how did you get away with it?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “OK. I knew the Feds were after Magic Carpet—it’s not just this world domination gaming thing. Magic Carpet would supply anything: drugs, guns, people, you name it. My job was to keep them out—the Feds, I mean, or any other hostiles sniffing about. I was a trusted employee, a trusted lieutenant, one of Sinbad’s merry voyagers.”

  “Sinbad?”

  “Yeah. He’s the guy behind it. That’s his username. I knew how the whole thing worked. Sinbad’s personal tag was Asmo. All I had to do was find out who he really was. A techie living in San Francisco, it turns out. I passed that on to the Feds. They caught him in a coffee shop, machine open—Fed speak for red-handed.”

  “So, you saved the world. What about Tom? Can you save him, too?”

  “That’s trickier…”

  “How?”

  “Well, there never was a way to bring people back again.” Milo sipped his coffee. “That was Asmo’s vision. His whole idea, good or bad. You’re there for ever.” Milo pushed his chair back and looked round. “I’m starving. Fancy some chips? They do good ones here.”

  “God, Milo!” Lucy rolled her eyes. “You really don’t care!”

  “I do care, as it happens, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  She left Milo dipping his chips in ketchup and mayo. The two got mixed together. He really was a disgusting individual. He’d got Tom into this thing with no way to get him out of it again—even less so now that Evil Techie Genius, who presumably might know, was behind bars.

  “He’s not going to be any help,” she said to Joe when she got back to the ward. “No help at all.”

  “Go home.” Joe smiled at her. “You look tired. Nothing more you can do here. Give me your number. I’ll text you if there’s any change.”

  Joe stayed, looking down at Tom. There was no alter ation in the boy’s condition and he wasn’t expecting one any time soon. He was further away if anything. He didn’t know what Milo had done to him, but this was the nearest he’d seen to a spirit journey and Tom was travelling far. How long has he been like this? Joe did a quick calculation. Soon he would be beyond reach.

  TOM AND EMILY HELD HANDS. The only small, faint light was from Emily’s wrist. She held it up. The glow seemed to strengthen. Glowing like that, it really did look like some kind of smartwatch or Fitbit. But how can that be? The Fairish woman had given it to her—where would she have got hold of that kind of technology?

  “The light’s getting stronger,” Emily was saying. “Don’t you think?”

  He nodded. “Seems to be.”

  Tom blinked. He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to cling on to straws, but it was definitely brightening, the green light washing over Emily’s face, giving her an eerie, otherworldly beauty. He frowned. It was like it was some kind of face recognition software…

  The stone was changing from pale jade to piercing emerald. Emily dropped her wrist and luminous green lines ran out across the darkness, marking a path, like the emergency lights on the floor of an aeroplane cabin.

/>   They looked at each other. Tom shrugged. There was nothing to do but to follow.

  They kept their eyes on the glowing green path. Their heads were filled with white noise, a kind of roaring, as if of the sea, although they could see nothing. Either side was a black void.

  Time did not exist, so they couldn’t be sure how long they went on like this—it could have been days, minutes, a lifetime. At last, some way in front of them, they could see a luminous, nebulous cloud. As they moved nearer, the mist began to separate into strands, each made up of many tiny lights like strings of jewels: ruby, carnelian, topaz, emerald, sapphire, amethyst. They were being led into a great, intricately woven, three-dimensional web, like some celestial dreamcatcher extending all around them, as deep as they could see beneath them and way above their heads, going on and on, all around and outwards in all directions, turning with distance to bright, shining white light. They were cradled by infinity.

  The web felt strange under their feet, strong but insubstantial. Both of them staggered slightly, struggling to find their balance. It was like walking a safety net over the void.

  “It takes a little getting used to,” a voice behind them said.

  They turned to see the Fairish Lady gliding towards them. She held up her wrist. The bracelet she wore there gave off a light of its own.