by Arthur Stone
"The clone trick doesn't always work. And the technology is still too new. No one knows when they'll actually start doing it."
"Hey, I've even been told how much it would cost. So they do cloning, after all, albeit in a different country."
"Do you know what a clone is? It's your full copy. So if you're an old ruin, an old ruin you will stay. So what would be the point?"
Ros shook his head.
"Couldn't people such as they account for future developments in cloning technology? Someone must surely have stored some of their DNA for the future. A few live cells would be enough, and the conservation procedure for small specimens has been used successfully for quite a while."
"Well, there's another problem. You cannot transplant your consciousness into a clone. You would have to transplant the entire brain. After that, the body will soon reach the same age as the brain donor. In other words, it will become the same kind of ruin, and in a very short time, too. So I wouldn't call this technology as reliable as you appear to think it is."
"They didn't tell me the details."
"Of course they wouldn't. You've had your brain damaged as well as your body, didn't you?"
"That's right."
"This should allegedly be treatable at some point in the future. But when exactly? Even the simplest cases when they clone young and perfectly healthy bodies are by no means as simple as they might seem. There are still technical details to work out, and it presents many problems legally, which means it's illegal virtually anywhere, and that doesn't make things any easier."
"Could Silber's secret project involve the transfer of consciousness without the brain?
"No idea. I don't have all the data. A thread here, and a thread there; all I do know, though, is that they'll kill you for sure. They blew up my home without a second thought, and they killed a genius like Barbarossa, making it look like he had eloped with some pretty young thing. Those people are monsters. They'll stop at nothing to make anyone who gets in their way, or at least can present a problem potentially, shut up for good. By the way, I didn't cross them once. I was just doing my job. I may have been overzealous and cut a few corners. They didn't like it, so here I go. They see you as a real pain in the ass. They'll eliminate you just as easily."
"Like I care. I have already died so many times that not even a million deaths would scare me."
"This is something quite different."
"All deaths are the same here."
"Sure, you always come back after a brief moment of darkness. But when these guys get to you, there'll be no rebirth. You will die a final death."
"That's impossible."
"You don't even imagine what's possible for Silber. He was one of this world's founding fathers. He worked out all the mechanics, although Barbarossa performed the most important part of the work by implementing a self-supporting control system. But Silber would not be himself without reserving a chance to take care of anyone who'd cause him grief in a terminal way. There's a unique in-game object. No one has seen it yet, and it has never been used. It's in a testing location inaccessible to players, although it's part of Second World, technically. It's a mob of sorts, but one controlled by a real person with the aid of a special capsule. I know for sure that Silber has one in his private chamber. So when he decides it's time for you to buy the farm, he'll just crawl in, and the killer mob will leave its location. The mob's attack irreversibly destroys any object. If the object in question is a player, they disappear, leaving a dead body behind in real life."
"Hold on a second! How can that be true? One never dies IRL after a death here. In the worst-case scenario, you just go offline."
"Oh, this thing is lethal all right, don't you doubt the Old Man. You die here, and you die there."
"This is madness…"
"How about the fact that a dead man like me can still play his favorite game? Barbarossa knew almost everything there was to know about the consciousness—or, perhaps, we could even drop the "almost"—and was naive enough to share this knowledge with Silber. The Old Man had him killed. And he'll kill anyone, no matter where they are. The game is no exception. Now he knows the real nature of consciousness and how to scramble it. And he can scramble it until there's nothing left. So you get a body without any consciousness. You realize what it's called, or should I tell you?"
"I get it."
"So, what do you say—does this information cost twenty-five thousand? You don't have to answer. I'd have told you everything, anyway. Free of charge. You have no idea how it hurts when your loyalty is rewarded by a destroyed apartment and a charred body. They have killed me. There as well as here…"
"But you're still alive here."
"That's where you're wrong, Ros, that's where you're wrong. I'm not like you—the trick with migrating into virtual reality doesn't work for everyone. It didn't work for me. It may be that there wasn't enough time to become fully immersed into the world, or, perhaps, I wasn't one of the lucky guys in the first place. I am dissolving like a lump of sugar in a cup of tea. I keep feeling worse, my thoughts get confused, and I keep getting stupider. I haven't even told you everything I know. My memory isn't mine anymore… nor are my thoughts… I only have a few days left here. Then I'll fizzle out, and the digital person will cease to exist."
"So you have no particular need for the money, then…"
"Oh, how wrong you are! It wouldn't hurt to have it, at any rate. You can die in some dark corner, weeping in self-pity, but there are ways that are much more fun. Take a look around. This is the capital. You can splurge all you want here. You know, Ros, I've always prioritized my career over my personal life… Well, you get the idea. Take a look around you. There are lots of women, and all of them look great. There are all kinds of people here. Some of them don't value money that much. Given enough gold, I can spend the rest of my day in the lap of luxury, and gather myself a small harem. I won't need much. Twenty-five thousand is, most likely, what I'll have enough time to spend. Given my expected lifespan, asking for millions would be ridiculous. And I need nothing from you, anyway. Maybe you'll keep on putting spokes in their wheels. That's an idea I'll cherish during those last moments before my mind leaves me completely. All right, time for us to part ways. I shared all the content of my decaying mind with you already, I reckon… Be wary of absolutely everything. Especially new monsters. No one knows what that special one looks like… Its appearance could be completely innocent. Don't ever let anything or anyone get near. And don't even think of leaving the capital on foot. If I managed to find you, others will, too—you're not as elusive as you think, and anyone can be hunted down. Well, that's it. Good luck!"
"Hold on."
"What is it?"
Ros called Digits over, pointing at Codymi.
"We'll go to the bank now. I'll give you the stuff I want to sell, and you'll give this guy here twenty-five thousand."
Digits sighed. "Duh. He's managed to wheedle it out of you, after all."
* * *
"I saw a noob today who was weirder than anything I've ever seen."
"As in so braindead it hurts to watch?"
"Nope. Idiot noobs are two a penny, anyway."
"What was so weird about him, them?"
"He entered the capital through the Eastern Gate."
"Thousands of noobs enter the capital through those gates every day! You couldn't count them all."
"Sure. But I've never seen the guards bow to a noob before."
"I've never seen them bow to anyone."
A conversation in the game chat.
* * *
"Stage 14 initiation: delay detected."
"Critical information received by object. It comes from an alternative source; it is uncontrollable. A waste of time."
"Confirmed. Scenario adjustment. Control assumed."
"Object approaching. Variable point."
"Standing by. Ready."
"There is the possibility that the object will interact with other sources of crit
ical information."
"Variability confirmed."
"Taking measures against untimely contact. Initializing interference scenario. Possibility of premature contact reduced by 92%."
"Standing by for initialization sequence."
Electronic noise deep in the neural network of the Second World.
Chapter 12
None of the players could give so much as an approximate area of the Second World. Even the known locations weren't studied completely, and there were new ones opening, as in the recent case of the Locked Lands that had caused such a commotion. One thing was obvious, though. The Earth, also known as the Third World, was considerably smaller in size.
It made sense—who would want to have to rub shoulders with too many people with nowhere to go? There was enough of that sort of dubious pleasure IRL.
If you wanted crowds, though, you could find those in Second World as well. There were mass events related to clan wars and the extermination of the strongest bosses, then spontaneous events like the fall of the wall that had kept the Locked Lands inaccessible, and the traditional city bustle in popular places.
Ros didn't manage to get into the tiny courtyard before the Imperial Chancellery for an unexpected reason—there were hundreds of players there, or maybe thousands. They stood shoulder to shoulder packed so tightly that you couldn't swing a mouse, let alone a cat. It was a monolithic mass of people. Getting in would be impossible.
But Ros tried to, anyway.
"So where are you trying to squeeze in, you noob?! Think you're a screw or something?" A dwarf that was rather tall by the standards of his race looked rather irate.
"I need to see the Emperor. It's urgent."
"Come again? Hey, folks, look here! This pathetic half-wit wants to see the Emperor! Says it's urgent, too!"
The nearest players started to laugh, and there were a few rude remarks made by some of them. However, one of the players turned out to be relatively friendly. He explained, trying hard not to smile,
"Actually, all of us have come to see the Emperor. Many have been here for months. The general principle is like this: if you manage to get into the yard in the morning, you can stay in the queue. Then the entrance is closed. They wouldn't have let you in, even if it wasn't for the crowd. But there's always a crowd here—people try to get in as soon as the gates are opened."
"Yeah, always crowded," the dwarf chimed in. "And everyone has a high-level quest that involves seeing the emperor. No one would waste so much time otherwise. Sometimes he allows audiences, and sometimes he doesn't. They only let you in one person at a time, so it's a long wait, and some decide it isn't worth it in the first place."
"But the quests are sure worth it," said a voice from the crowd.
"That's just what I've said—we wouldn't have been standing here otherwise. So beat it, noob. There's nothing for you here. You're out of your depth. The Emperor doesn't let any low-level players in at all. Quests where you have to see him start at level 200, and they're rare. You need to catch your luck by the tail, and yours doesn't seem to be that good to me."
"But I really have some business to discuss with him."
"Oh, sure, worthy of an audience… Important, is it?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Oh, I should have figured that out myself. Important business indeed. Come back in the morning and try to force your way through when they open the gates. But bear in mind that all this crowd will be doing just the same. Watch out, or you'll get trampled in the stampede. I'd be careful to so much as sneeze around you—you might get blown away."
There were a few more laughs from the crowd, but then they were followed by offended yelling. The crowd started to move back and forth, as if trying to do an impression of a stormy sea. The din kept getting louder; then two rows of sharp pikes appeared above the heads of the players. Their wielders were approaching fast, somehow managing to push through the monolithic throng.
Then a gap appeared in the wall of human bodies, and Ros saw a passage open in front of him, held by two rows of Imperial Guards. They faced each other. With the visors on their helmets down, they may have been mistaken for statues of nielloed metal. The players that have to move aside stopped grumbling and grew as silent as the NPCs. Something extraordinary must have been happening, and no one wanted to miss anything.
A bow-legged dwarf NPC appeared, scurrying through the corridor formed by the motionless warriors. He was clad in a motley arrangement of expensive garments. The tastelessness of the garb notwithstanding, he looked most impressive, and one didn't feel like laughing at him. Besides, the look on his face… You could tell the guy was a right sourpuss and always ready to express his negative opinion on any subject. No one wanted to have anything to do with a kibitzer like that.
As the dwarf stepped out of the gates, he made a theatrical embracing gesture with his hand, placed a most unnaturally-looking grin on his face, and shouted in a resonant voice,
"Oh, what joy! The greatest of joys! A miracle! So you have decided to visit us at last! Greetings!"
"Greetings to you, too," said a slightly baffled Ros.
"Is everything fine with you? Are you treated with respect? How did the guards at the city gates behave?"
"Everything was fine. They were very respectful—they even bowed to me."
"Was it a deep enough bow?"
"I guess it was."
"You guess, hm-m. But how deep exactly? Like this? Or like that?"
The dwarf used his hand to indicate the alleged depth of the bow.
"I think it was the way you showed the second time."
"Those good-for-nothings! I should chop their legs off at the knees so that they would bow properly! Well, I'll punish them for their impertinence later. Right… I hope this incident did not spoil the pleasure of visiting our city?"
"Oh, by no means—I'm not that big on ceremony—bowing and all that other stuff."
"Oh, but you should be! Your status demands it, so you should not neglect even the smallest details. So, all right, then… Therefore, the capital has made a good impression, and I'm certain no one has been a nuisance to you in any way. Could I ask you a question in this respect, then? A trifle, nothing important."
"Sure, go right ahead."
"Why would you want to rub shoulders with all these wastrels when His Imperial Majesty was waiting for you?! He's been asking about you since this morning! And he has a lot of important business to attend to, so you really should have hurried up! You have no further reasons for testing his patience, I hope?!"
"I guess I don't." That was the only reply Ros could think of.
"In that case, would you kindly follow me? The Emperor awaits."
Not a single triumphant warrior of the antiquity could have imagined something like this in his fondest dreams. A ridiculously naive noob who tried to find his way to an NPC made nearly inaccessible due to the Second World mechanics didn't just get lucky—he managed to break every mold. Not a single player was ever showered with such honors here. The scene only lacked a red carpet. But eyewitnesses would certainly mention it in their accounts of the incident.
There were excited players, all abuzz, in every direction. Some were vocal enough in the expression of their feelings for their voices to rise above the din.
"Who the hell is that, anyway?"
"Some total noob! Level 67, I think! That's, like, no one at all!"
"He's got a silly name, too!
"Hey! You there! A hundred golden pieces if you tell me how you managed to get in!"
"I'll pay two hundred if you tell no one but me!"
"Three hundred! Three hundred! I'll pay you three hundred! Just don't tell them anything!"
"Four hundred!"
"Damn, I'm at 206, and it's my second week in the queue, while this absolute nobody just had to turn up, and Bob's his uncle!"
"I guess we should delete our characters. The Emperor apparently favors noobs now."
"Did you see the Guards salute him?!
Well, I'll be damned!"
"Hey, Bubble, add me to your friend list! We have a lot to talk about! You won't regret it!"
While they were shouting all this, the gates to the palace garden opened in front of Ros. That's where the Emperor of the West decided to meet him.
* * *
Ros recognized a familiar aroma and grimaced. Those were the very weird flowers that grew in such abundance around the arch used by wannabe poets as a podium for reciting their drivel. Although the conversation with Cody Mitchell engaged all of his attention, and he didn't notice any distractions much. It could be that a previously unknown genius read an opus that would make him immortal from the top of the arch around that time.
The Emperor was a man of large stature, well into his years. He didn't rise from the carved armchair that had stood in a spacious marble pavilion. He must have somehow noticed Ros's reaction to the aromas in the garden, and said in an even and somewhat weary voice,
"I see the aroma of the Poet's Lotus does not agree with you. I'm not too fond of it, either. But these flowers have one very rare and very useful property. Are you aware of it?"
"Their aroma reveals everything that is hidden."
"That's right. As you may have noticed, I am receiving you on my own. My entourage and my guards have all been sent away. And the flowers will not let anyone approach us undetected. I assume that the message you are bearing is highly con… confi… confide…"
The emperor froze rigid, staring right in front of him. His jaw got twisted in an ugly grimace. Ros started to suspect a stroke, and realized it would likely be blamed on the visitor. And then…
What would happen then? Any of the objects in the game could be destroyed, and every entity was mortal. Therefore, the Emperor could be killed. His successor would then reign in his stead. And anyone suspected of being complicit in the demise of the Emperor of the West would find themselves in a real tight spot.
The NPC policy was rigid in this respect. Killing a player wouldn't be much of a problem. The hue of the lettering of your name would redden for a while, and you might lose some of your property, but that was that. However, to attack even the lowest of the guards was unthinkable. One's reputation would plummet enormously. After that, peaceful NPCs would shun you, and aggressive ones would attack at every opportunity.