Versim

by Curtis Hox

  He carried Binda down the flights of stairs until the darkened street, where he let her walk.

  Fearful, she grasped Krista’s hand. When a shadow moved, Hark used his Blaster to level a path back toward the apartment he’d chosen. The sound was deafening, but acted like a warning. Once they found the other building, he led them up stairs, as if they were his prisoners. Still the V was whole, not a single sign its foundations were crumbling.

  Once inside the apartment, he glared at the women. “Start looking for your parachutes. Both of you. And hurry.”

  He stood over Binda while she cowered in the middle of the room, where broken picture frames littered the floor. Krista wandered to the far side and ran her finger along the edge of a wall shelf.

  The world should have ended in an instant. Something was delaying it, but without a host, it should be done by now, and he wanted them both safe before it did.

  He had studied Rend-V engineering enough to know Celia Preston was being taken from her stasis vat, her mind being prepped for cogno-therapy since its connection with the mind of her narrative self was gone. He, as well, as everyone else should be waking up with a dual self, two lives, two souls. Such a catastrophic event as a host dying in-V had always been an unpleasant possibility. All they had were a series of steps to evacuate as many of the important principals and immersed customers with insurance policies. That should be happening right now.

  “Krista, why are we still here?” Hark said, biting down his frustration.

  “Why, oh, why, Hark?”

  They stood in a pocket of streetlight from automated lamps on battery power below the apartment windows. Both women stood at one end of the living room, before a hip-high case of books. Krista, under normal circumstances, would probably take a week to catalog them. Under any other circumstances, he’d sit with her and talk about each one.

  Outside, the forlorn baying of what sounded like wolves rang from a few blocks away. In the distance, a horrific ululating wail responded as if something more than a wolf was coming.

  “I’ve made a deal to keep all this alive,” Krista said. “That’s why we’re still here. If you’d have let me explain …”

  She guided Binda to a seat in front of a corner desk holding a computer monitor. Binda sat like a docile child. Hark couldn’t stand the fact she hadn’t said a word. The girl who’d jumped into his arms and placed a kiss on his lips was long gone. At least in this narrative.

  Krista said, “You have no idea what’s at stake in a Rend-V of this size, and you proved it when you shot the host. For ten years, I’ve been working to archive every piece of original written and visual artifice formed in this V, and other mundanes like it.” She edged closer to him, walking with confidence. “I couldn’t let you destroy it, and I knew telling you the details of the archive wouldn’t have mattered. Would it? It’s more than a library, Hark. It’s a repository of bleedover lore that can be used in the real world.”

  “This is about your bleedover magic?”

  She frowned at him. “See? That’s my point. You don’t get it. You never have. So much potential in that brain of yours, but you waste on … playing the hero. It’s more than that. It’s about understanding the truth of how these Vs are generated, where the tech comes from, and how to use it in the real world.”

  Hark ignored her insults. He’d heard them before. Whenever things got truly heated between them, it came down to this. “Why are we still here, Krista?”

  “Because the world’s not going to end, Hark. This V is fine. No insurance policies are being cashed in.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Magda, what do you have?

  Nothing, sir. I’ve been scanning the real-world data feeds. There’s a continued increase in viewership, in fact. It seems your hopes for a denouement with the killing of Ervé and Celia have been premature.

  Premature?

  Hark felt a familiar sense that always came when he was at the center of things, as if all the eyes of the world were on him.

  “What have you done, Krista?”

  “You didn’t kill the host, Hark. Celia Preston was removed from the shrine and made a principal character yesterday. You’ve still scrambled her brains, though. I took her place, Hark. I’m the host.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did.”

  “You are not.”

  “I am.”

  Hark stared at his older sister with such clarity he felt stupid denying it. Swapping herself for Celia was the very sort of thing she would do. She was a Spinner, a technowizard who used the Vs to generate the impossible in the real world. He had never challenged her over these radical practices because he’d never had a reason to. But now they had crossed paths, and he realized she was the one with true determination in the family. She had forced his hand. And damned Saul …

  “The boy,” Hark said, barely able to get the words out of his mouth. His breath seemed to have left him. “Krista, what about Saul?”

  Hark heard Binda stand. He considered turning his night-vision on, but he could see her clearly by the window. She no longer looked fearful.

  “The boy’s not in transit anymore, Specialist Cole,” Binda said in another voice. Hark recognized Miesha Preston. It was the same lilting tone she’d used when she’d manipulated him into making the Promise. Binda was being used as a remote proxy. She walked over to a flat screen TV in an entertainment center. She flipped it on. “He’s back in-V, Hark, in a secure place.”

  Hark saw the boy Saul asleep on what looked like a simple single bed. The covers were pulled up under his chin. He appeared to be sleeping soundly. At the foot of his bed stood an old woman, who appeared to be watching over him. But Hark could clearly see that the scene was depicted to reflect menace.

  “Contract time,” Miesha said through Binda. “Let’s see how professional you really are.”

  “Who’s the goddamn host of this Rend-V?”

  Magda?

  Working on that, sir.

  Hark leveled his Blaster at Binda.

  “I am!” Krista yelled.

  Miesha used Binda to tap the TV, as if controlling the scene from afar. “I had wanted to play this out with a full season, maybe two, but since you … took matters into your own hands and removed Ervé, the boy dies now. One grand moment of crisis for our hero, Harken Cole. What will he do?”

  Hark watched the old woman grin at the screen. He felt Magdalena put his brain into rapid ratiocination mode. He had to make a critical decision fast. If the boy died in-V, he’d experience a real death. That could harm him for life. If he were connected to a V he just immersed in and the host died, he would wake up with barely any cognitive disturbances at all. The longer you were in, the worse it was. Krista was in-V, but temporarily. If she died, she’d get scrubbed and be fine. The fact they were all still standing in the V meant Celia wasn’t the host.

  Magda? I need info now on the host.

  I’ve got nothing sir. It’s all hidden.

  “Hark, Binda’s just a proxy,” Krista said.

  “They either keep him here, or they send him back to The Borderlands. He doesn’t have a real body yet. He’s never been husked. He’s not a legal person yet.” The anguish of knowing in a month, the contract would be over and the boy would be of age to exit the constructed world in which he’d been born was too much for Hark. So close. “And if I don’t fulfill my end and wake the host … they harm him now or shut it down.”

  “Hark, listen to me,” Krista said.

  “Don’t do it, Miesha,” Hark said to Binda. “Give me a minute.”

  Binda tapped the TV again, and the old crone paused—skeletal finger raised above the boy’s head like some serpent ready to strike. “You’re determined, as always?”

  “I am.”

  “Hark,” Krista said, “don’t listen to her. I’m the host. It’s over. You won’t shoot me. I know you won’t shoot me. You can’t do anything.”

  Hark lowered his weapon, moving his eyes between the
two women.

  Binda moved like a lithe cat through the furniture of the living room. She paused a foot or two away, as if she might pull him into a slow dance. “Your sister is lying. You can tell, can’t you.”

  Hark rarely saw desperation in Krista. But there it was: the strain that turned her face into a mask of anxiety. Even in the dark, he saw the pull in her scowl. “If you were the host, you know I wouldn’t shoot you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Hark leveled his Blaster at his sister. “You’re wrong, Krista. Goddamn it, jump out now. I know you’re not the host. You’re being tunneled temporarily like you were before. It’ll hurt and be a headache for you, but I’ll do it. So, leave, before it goes bad.” He then leveled his Blaster at Binda. “I’ll do it.”

  “You won’t,” Krista said, but she backed up a few steps. “Just like you would never hit me in the face.”

  He leveled his weapon again at her. “Now, Krista. Out, so I can see you’re not the host. I need to know.”

  “Hark, please …”

  Miesha chuckled. “Oh, this is good, so good. Shoot her, Hark. You’ll know for sure. We all go up in smoke or …”

  “A specialist kills an inspector in-V. You’d love that, you meddling bitch.”

  “A brother kills a sister,” Miesha said.

  He kept his weapon on her. “Krista, go now. I know you’re not the host.”

  She looked off, infuriated, and a second later she was gone. Hark breathed a sigh of relief edged in pain, one he knew that everyone watching heard. He would have shot had she waited a few more seconds, and she had seen it. She knew it. Magdalena could sense his pain. She was waiting to douse him, but he’d commanded her not to. Not now. Not when so much was up for grabs.

  “She’s not the host.” Hark leveled his Blaster at Binda.

  Miesha’s laugh again. “You think I’d be so stupid?”

  “I have a new contract negotiation for you, Specialist Cole. First offer: you agree to it, the boy is out of this V, out of The Borderlands. He’s granted full legal personhood, and you’re released from your original contract of fulfilling your promise to Paul Stammand.”

  He lowered his weapon. “Go on.”

  “You know who the host is, don’t you?”

  Magda?

  That information is blocked to me for some reason, sir. It’s odd. I have no idea why such a simple request would be—

  “My sister was telling the truth: she’s here legally,” Hark said. “EA did find our illegal host.”

  “Yes, we did. Funny thing about you, Specialist Cole. You scored off the charts when tested for cognitive mapping skills.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You chose to be a specialist, instead of a Sersavant, or a Spinner, or—”

  “Did you make me the—?”

  “Another brilliant move on my part. Switching hosts is common enough, as you know. Rend-Vs can continue without a single hiccup. Garce is now acting as your buffer for the entire Sersavant hacker corps dedicated to this V. And he’s more powerful than Celia, so we’ll have no trouble directing as need be. But your imaginative mind is now the home for all of this, while Garce serves as your second. A backup, really, if you decided to bail. An awake host is … risky. We had to limit the scope, of course. Celia Preston had spent two decades building this out. But for what I have planned, we don’t need that much space, or time.”

  “What’s the deal?”

  “Oh, simple, you survive for a year in-V.”

  “That’s it? Survive?” Hark began to feel as if he might come out of this shining. “Let me guess: I play the part of a host being hunted? Your ratings skyrocket because no V has ever done this. In fact, if you catch me the entire V goes up in smoke, except you have Garce you can write in to save the V. Riveting entertainment.”

  “That’s it. That’s my contribution. Vs will never be the same again.”

  Hark grunted, as if he’d stepped on a sharp stone. “You got a deal, Director Preston. I keep Magda and my gear.”

  “Of course.”

  Hark waited, knowing there had to be a catch. “Well, what is it?”

  He could see by the way she was grinning, she had something to tell him. “Ervé will eventually be back.”

  “Figured that. Unless he doesn’t recover.”

  “He will. We’ll give him an undead upgrade. You did kill him. Versim integrity requires it.”

  “Of course. That’s it? I have my own demands.”

  Again, the giggle. “One more thing. Here’s the premise: Specialist Harken Cole struggles as a host in a Rend-V to survive for one year. He’s hunted by a city of monsters.” Hark grinned at that, happy for the chance to fry some uglies. “But, in the spirit of this new V called Versim, we’re allowing the viewing public to vote on which principal antagonists will hunt him. We’ll offer a wide range to choose from: a variety of old nemeses will top our lists, plus options for customizable villains the public can outfit how they choose. How does that sound? Revolutionary, no? We’ll also allow them to immerse and join the hunt. The applications are already pouring in.”

  You against the world, sir. Just as you like it.

  Magdalena could read his mind when he let her. And she could also feel his emotions. Relief cascaded through him, and she gave him her version of a hug. If Miesha Preston thought he’d be quaking in his boots, she had no idea who Harken Cole was.

  “Give me back Binda,” he said, “and Frankie as a principal with the full package: make him interesting so he’s got weight. And you have a deal, Director Preston. It’ll be good to be working together.”

  Binda went rigid as a paused proxy. A half-minute later, Miesha said, “Then it’s settled.”

  Hark waited, watching. Binda stood in the middle of the room, eyes still glowing that infernal gold as if fueled by some evil intelligence; then the eyes dimmed, and Binda Avey stumbled forward, righting herself at the last minute.

  “Hark?” she asked.

  “You got your role, girl,” he said. “Now let’s go find Frankie. He’s probably waking up somewhere scared to death, wondering what happened.”

  “I remember everything.”

  “Yeah, they’re playing it that way. You get to be yourself.”

  “And you?”

  “Who else? I’m Harken Cole, antagonist of Versim.”

  THE END

  Thank you for purchasing this book. If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment or review at the site of purchase. Check out my website at curtishox.com for new releases or contact me at curtishox@gmail.com.

  About the author

  Curtis Hox is an English professor by day and a science fiction writer by night. He launched his debut novel, Bleedover, in Nov. 2011, and in 2012 he released his YA Transhuman Warrior Series. He's also blogging his journey as a self-published author. He lives with his wife and two year old son, who often pretends to type on his keyboard.

  Transhuman Warrior Series:

  Stand-alone novels:

  Bleedover

  Novella:

  Bottomland (Coming Soon)

  Short stories:

  “Repossession in Progress”

  “The Red Sphere”

  “Witch Fire”

  “Transmission”

  Connect with me online:

  http://www.curtishox.com

  curtishox@gmail.com

  http://www.twitter.com/curtishox

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Author's Note

  Masthead

  VERSIM

  About the author

 

 

 
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