Edda

by Conor Kostick

  “Very strange. I can see why you’re worried.”

  “Well . . .” For a moment Ghost hesitated, but if anyone could understand what she was about to say, it would be Erik. Odd that her most trusted confidant was a human. “I’m worried for the people of Saga. But for me personally? To tell the truth, it’s exciting.” There was a pause as though she was waiting for his reaction. But Cindella’s expression was fixed at “interested,” and it was impossible to see if Erik was shocked.

  “I haven’t said this to anyone else,” she continued, “but I think you’ll appreciate my situation. It’s ironic, given that you are a human, an alien. But with Cindella you must have felt a bit like I do. It’s like having wings, but never flying. Don’t you want to stretch yourself, see what Cindella could do with all her magic? Go exploring new worlds? Have adventures?

  Discover where her true limits are? Because I’ve always felt like that.

  “Remember my battle with the Dark Queen? I relished it. Once it was over, I knew I’d feel trapped here. The RAL”—she checked he understood the term, but of course, Cindella’s expression would not reflect the actual response of Erik unless he consciously chose to reset it—“the Reprogrammed Autonomous Lifeforms, those of us given the ability to alter the world around us, were all warriors, and some of that spirit—a lot of that spirit—has entered me. I’m restless here; I need a challenge. That’s why, if it was the only way, I was going to upload myself into a robot in your world and travel the stars. It was a path to freedom. But now I look at this and see something that is potentially even better. It means there is an electronic world beyond Saga. It may represent danger, but can you see what this portal means to me? It’s a way to go exploring while in my own body, perhaps with all my reprogrammed abilities.” Ghost looked again at Cindella, anxious for Erik’s response. Did he think her irresponsible for seeing the portal as an opportunity, not just a threat?

  “I understand.” Erik must have signaled for Cindella to give a nod, for his avatar gave a very lifelike gesture of approval. “Or at least, I think I do. It’s very different for me, of course. Back in New Earth we have a million challenges just getting our society moving forward again after years of stagnation. There are so many projects I could get involved in. And I’m just the same as everyone else, except when I’m clipped up to Cindella. But you are right; I enjoy being here as Cindella. Yet at the same time I feel constrained, not just by being human, but because in Saga there’s no need for all the skills or magic Cindella has inherited from Epic.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Constrained.”

  For a moment they looked at the shining portal, which no longer seemed quite so menacing: it was a potential pathway to exciting new worlds.

  “You brought me here because you want me to go through it with you? Now?”

  This brought a short laugh from Ghost. “I’d love to, but no, I’ve still got my responsibilities as queen. What if we disintegrated or something? I mean, we know your avatar was able to go from Epic to Saga. But can you do it again? Also, before you offer to test it, we had a discussion. Some of the guild leaders are worried that this portal might represent a genuine danger to Saga. We have to set up a cordon around the whole district, get the army functioning again, build tanks and all the powerful weapons that we halted production on. When all that’s in place and I am not needed, then perhaps I can go.

  “First, though, we need more information. I brought you here because I’m hoping you humans will help us. We need a team to head through and find out what’s happening on the other side. I was going to get some volunteers from Saga, but then I thought of you. If your people create avatars and go in, what’s the worst that can happen? You lose your avatar. But for my people, it could mean death.”

  It was still a little disorienting, even though Ghost had seen it happen often enough, that human avatars could be killed without the slightest effect on the people controlling them. They had infinite lives in Saga and it would cost them nothing if they died crossing through the portal. Unfortunately for human-Saga relationships, the previous queen of Saga had discovered a way to feedback signals to the brains of humans entering their world and trigger the release of dangerous overdoses of chemicals in their brains. As a result, with the exception of Erik, who was acting as a kind of ambassador for the humans, they no longer visited Saga.

  “That’s a great idea, and I’m sure we will do it. You do know, though, that our Cabinet will have to give permission first? After what happened here last year, we are ultracautious about EI beings.”

  “EI?”

  “Electronic Intelligence.”

  “Electronic?” Ghost looked down at herself, then gave a smile. “Well, I suppose so. Will you go ask your Cabinet then, please? We would like you to send the scouts through as soon as possible.”

  “Of course. And Ghost, whatever they say, I’ll go through there for you.”

  “Thanks, Erik.” Ghost held up her right hand. They closed their grip, and the last image in front of her before Cindella abruptly disappeared was of the avatar’s intense green eyes, somehow filled with warmth and comradeship despite the fact that the real Erik was lying on a bed somewhere on a far distant planet, staring blindly into a headset.

  There was an incredible amount to be done and a hundred people wanting to get in touch with her in order to have some decision made about energy distribution or factory design or something equally tedious. But for a few minutes, Ghost stood and contemplated the portal. Such a strange creation, as though someone had taken a knife and a ruler and cut four lines through the air, revealing a shimmering gray background to the world of Saga. And for all the adventure that it offered, the portal was extremely sinister, too; instead of using it to communicate openly with the people of Saga, whoever had created it had done so in the hope that they could journey through the city unnoticed, stealing weapons.

  Chapter 6

  TO THE PORTAL

  Being a person of action rather than introspection, Ghost rarely spent too much time dwelling on the state of her feelings. But as she waited for Erik’s team to arrive in Saga, she turned her attention to the swirl of emotions that arose at the thought that she might soon be leaving the bustling city. What she ought to be experiencing was a sense of concern for her people and perhaps even fear, for what might come through the portal from the unknown world beyond. But even if there were millions of hostile inhabitants living there, facing them seemed less daunting than spending her life as queen, surrounded by people who wanted to trap her in a life of administrative decisions.

  Of course, Ghost had asked not to be called queen and had attempted to resign from the position. But it wasn’t so easy. Tradition had firmly established that whoever killed the current ruler became the new ruler. And no amount of pleading with the administrators of Saga could take away the fact that Ghost had defeated her predecessor, the Dark Queen.

  It was not fear that was troubling Ghost but guilt. Leaving Saga would mean leaving behind her friends: in particular, Milan and Athena. If you met Milan at a party, you would think he was all image and no substance. He had perma-tats and worked out to keep a muscular physique, which he openly admitted was for impressing the girls. It seemed to be all he lived for: girls and parties. But the fact was, when Ghost had found herself in battle with the Dark Queen, Milan hadn’t been the slightest bit intimidated. And the same was true of Athena, the most tech-savvy person that Ghost knew.

  The two of them had stuck by Ghost, had believed in her, had made possible her victory. They were courageous and loyal. And no matter how much Milan preened and boasted about his own coolness, the surprising fact was that he lived up to the show and more. It seemed wrong to be planning to leave them, wrong and sad. But Ghost had survived on her own for years and knew that ultimately she had to follow her own nature, even if it led her away from her friends.

  The Grand Plaza was busy and warm under a clear spring sky. Life would go on here, assuming Ghost could deal with whatever was on
the other side of the portal. She was waiting in the center of the square, sitting on her airboard and listening to a compilation of tracks by new punk bands that Milan had put together for her. This was the place where new human avatars appeared after their first creation, and as she began to wonder whether Erik’s team was going to arrive at the agreed-upon time, Cindella materialized right in front of her, Erik having unclipped his avatar at this exact point the previous day.

  “Hey, Erik. Thanks for coming.”

  “Hi, Ghost. The others are just creating their characters now; they’ll be in Saga soon.”

  “How many are in your team?”

  “Six.”

  “Neat.” Six seemed like a sensible amount for a scouting party. They would be a tight group.

  Ghost moved to sit beside Cindella on one of the many stone benches and followed her gaze. Throughout the plaza were dozens of booths, distributing food cooked in a wide range of styles. Hundreds of people were availing themselves of the vendors’ services and were either walking or sitting in the square enjoying their meals.

  “Is it lunchtime, your time?” asked Erik.

  “Huh? No, it’s three in the afternoon, as we agreed.”

  “Was it always like this at three? It seems busier now than before, under the Dark Queen.”

  “You’re probably right. Although I didn’t come down this way much during the old times. They had guards then, to keep boarders out of the plaza.”

  “So do boarders come down these days?”

  “Sure.” Ghost pointed toward a corner of the plaza where a group of airboarders was lounging around like a pride of indolent lions, barely able to summon the energy to get to their feet. But all of a sudden there was a dramatic burst of motion as one of them leaped into action, attempting tricks against low walls and stone ornaments. Both Ghost and Erik were watching the stunts with fascination when a tall man in a dark suit came over and sat beside them.

  “Let me guess. Are you B.E.?” offered Erik.

  “Right. I hope we are going to be given some decent gear, because the start-up equipment for an assassin still sucks.”

  “Ghost, this is B.E., Big Erik, one of my oldest friends from Sandycove, where I grew up. I think you met a few times before, in the struggle with the Dark Queen.”

  “Hi again, B.E. Of course I remember you. Thanks for coming, and don’t worry about your equipment. You’ll get the best Saga has to offer.”

  B.E.’s new avatar smiled. It was a slightly sinister expression, rather well done.

  “I look forward to seeing it,” he replied.

  Next to arrive was a trooper, carrying his rifle in both arms across his chest. As he walked through the busy plaza with a determined military pace, people stopped to stare at the soldier.

  “Ouch, we are going to have to get him out of sight,” muttered Ghost.

  “What’s up?” asked Erik. “Why is everyone looking so surprised?”

  “We disbanded the army months ago. Oh well, it doesn’t matter; we’ve started rebuilding the army anyway, so everyone may as well get used to it.”

  “Harald?” asked Erik of the soldier.

  “Yeah.”

  “Ghost”—Cindella stood up to make the introduction—“this is my dad, Harald.”

  “Your dad?” Ghost heard the note of shock in her own voice and paused, wondering why she should be so surprised. In part it was because she had taken it for granted that the explorers would be young humans. But why not bring maturity and experience into the team? There was another issue, though—the real reason that Ghost had shivered at the word “dad.” Ghost had never known her parents and even today, with all her powers and authority, she had not been able to find out so much as their names. All her earliest memories had been wiped from her mind in a cruel experiment and the records concerning her past destroyed. It was painful to be reminded that she had no father or mother she could count on, the way that Harald had come to be with Erik. Ghost had grown up alone, fending for herself.

  “Hello, Ghost. It’s an honor to meet you.” Harald walked over and offered his hand.

  She got up from the bench in order to take it, and for a brief moment, as they touched, she stared into the dark eyes of the avatar. But of course there could be no sign of a relationship between the avatar and Cindella. The only way it was possible to tell they were father and son was from the distinct accent their voices shared.

  Before Ghost could sit down again, a third avatar arrived. He was wearing an open-collared shirt like so many of the other men in the plaza and it would be easy to mistake him for a curious citizen of Saga, coming to see what was happening. But his stride was a little too purposeful.

  “Anonemuss?” asked Erik.

  The man nodded, his dark-haired fringe falling forward over his eyes.

  “This is Ghost, the queen of Saga.”

  If Anonemuss was surprised that the ruler of a city of several million people was a teenage girl in a T-shirt and combat trousers covered in pockets, he didn’t show it at all. With another nod, he joined the group on the bench and stretched out his legs.

  A moment later another soldier came up, this time carrying the kit of a medical officer.

  “Ghost, this is Inny”—Erik hesitated—“my girlfriend.”

  A wave and smiles all around. Again, Ghost was curious about Erik’s human life and paid particular attention to the new arrival, but she was unsure if there was any meaning in the design of Inny’s avatar. Did humans make choices for size and shape that reflected their own bodies? Perhaps Inny had fair hair on her human head, because her avatar had rather striking long blond tresses.

  “Just one more.”

  “Good, Milan is waiting with a shuttle bus.”

  “Tell her about Gunnar,” said B.E. suddenly.

  “What do you mean?” Cindella turned to him.

  B.E. stood up from the bench so he could address Ghost. “He’s not like the rest of us.”

  “No?” Ghost waited, her curiosity aroused, but no one offered to elaborate.

  “What do you mean, exactly?” Erik asked B.E. again.

  “For a start, Gunnar’s a first-class bozo. And he’s a fool. He’s not going to be much use to the team. His idea of taking a risk is wearing a bow tie that is too loud for his waistcoat. During the old days, back when we had Epic, Gunnar earned money from having his avatar make leather goods, not fighting monsters. But more dangerously, he’s not one of us. The rest of us are all close friends of Erik’s, but Gunnar is an administrator who thinks he knows best. The problem is that some people on New Earth believe that helping you is a bad idea. They want to keep away from everything that’s happening in your world, for safety’s sake. And Gunnar represents them. He’s not here to help; it was a condition of our being allowed to come that we bring him along.”

  Ghost was not surprised that there were humans with such an outlook. “Well, that’s understandable after what the Dark Queen did to them,” she said.

  “She got me, too,” said B.E. passionately, “but I’m here and glad to be here. Anyway, just so you know, he has a different attitude than the rest of us.”

  Right on cue, Gunnar came up, a very tall and youthful blond soldier, with powerful shoulders and a gleaming smile.

  “Gunnar, this is Ghost.”

  “Your Majesty.” He put down his kit bag and bowed.

  “What took you so long?” challenged Anonemuss.

  Gunnar straightened, still facing Ghost respectfully, before turning slowly about in order to reply. “There were a lot of important decisions to make.”

  “Yeah, I see you put some time into that smile,” muttered B.E. just loud enough to be heard.

  “How one appears in EI environments could be of great importance.”

  “For a trooper?” sneered B.E.

  “For any character class.”

  “Yeah, well, forgive me if I think your good looks have more to do with your own vanity than strategy.”

  Before Gunnar
could respond to B.E.’s jibe, Cindella got up. “Enough.”

  To look at, this team of humans was a superb combat squad that inspired confidence. To listen to, they sounded like squabbling children. Hoping her dismay at the division in their ranks did not show, Ghost took her airboard, slung it over her shoulder, and set off with the call, “Let’s go.”

  Everyone followed at once, tracked by many curious stares until they reached the relative quiet of a side street. A small airbus was floating next to the pavement, and Milan was leaning against it. Ghost looked at him afresh, as her guests from New Earth must see him: a muscular young man with striking black tattoos on his arms.

  “Hi, Erik, good to see you again.” Milan held out his fist and Cindella bumped knuckles with him. Without waiting to greet anyone else, Milan then slid open a side door. “Here you go.”

  While the humans found seats in the bus, Ghost joined Milan in the front of the vehicle.

  “All set?” With a quick glance back, Milan shot off, rushing down the street as though he was in a race. “By the way, thanks, everyone, for doing this.”

  “You’re welcome,” Erik replied for them all.

  For the next hour they swept through the streets of the vast metropolis that was Saga. There was very little chat, which was a disappointment to Ghost in that she had hoped to gain some more insight into B.E.’s comment that Gunnar was not here to help. The journey did, however, give her time to get used to the new avatars and run over their names several times until she had fixed them in her mind. Inny was the female soldier with long golden hair; B.E. was the man in the dark suit; Erik’s dad, Harald, had military-style, closely shaved hair; while Anonemuss had the appearance of a dumpy, middle-aged office worker. The most striking of them all, though, was Gunnar, who despite having a cracked and aged voice, looked like a teenage model, with his sparkling blue eyes, gleaming teeth, and youthful body.

  Gliding to a halt before a warehouse, Milan pressed a remote control and a large metal shutter rose to let them enter. This part of town was more or less abandoned, and from the front, the warehouse had looked rather derelict; even the painted name of the former business—RYAN’S TEXTILES—had faded to the point that it could barely be made out. But inside, the building was ablaze with light and activity. It was sectioned into corridors created by the meter-high screens that separated off twenty or so workstations from each other. These open corridors focused on three hubs where clusters of people were gathered, talking and looking at monitors. Ghost imagined that viewing all the motion from above would be like looking down into an ants’ nest. With the human avatars trailing her, she led them to the nearest of the three large groups.