by Peter John
Many of the 'enemy' were just poor people, overtaken by events. Press-ganged into taking up arms for something that didn’t bother them at all. The political will of the time was not a movement of determined, educated and informed civilians, it was the press of an automatic weapon to a wife, a child or a parent. It was the promise of food during a drought. It was a lie that eventually had to be real because there wasn’t anything else to justify what was being done.
My teams and I witnessed this, and I had sworn to myself that I would never ever believe anything ever told to me by any political party, ever. I swore an oath to myself to always check the facts and find out the details on my own. My later days in the SAS I had seen active duty in Bosnia, the Ivory Coast, Libya, Afghanistan, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Syria. Everywhere I went there was untold evil and cruelty, and I found it harder to believe I was part of the cure, part of something greater trying to quell the loss of innocent life.
Especially since those paying in blood were usually the innocent. Admittedly, some part of me definitely embraced the role of liberator, making sure those ruthless men and women paid the ultimate price for taking advantage of innocents they perceived of as weak.
I was the guy who stood up and did the right thing, no matter if it cost my life. Later, while working with the SEALS and Delta Force teams in counter-intelligence operations, I had always sought out evil with determined, controlled force. We had gathered intel on those slave traders, arms dealers and opium smugglers and crushed them wherever we could. Often displaying the same ruthlessness that our enemies represented. I discovered the job was easier by being as evil as our enemies. After some time, I realized that I… that we had become so much like the enemy we sought so ruthlessly.
That epiphany had brought about my early retirement, not really the threat of a desk, stateside, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone that. It was hard to look in the mirror sometimes, convincing myself that the end justified the means. I had had to get away from it all.
Once retired, once I stopped fighting and had a chance to really reflect on my life, and possibly the good I had done. I came to an understanding that I had done everything for my team, and to survive. It had never really been about the grand political landscape. It had always narrowed down to that moment, when life and death were a sliver of thought to either side.
Now the Absinth wanted me to take up arms for them. To train and fall into line as I had done so many times before. I didn’t know if I had it in me. It wasn’t the physical side. They had taken that out of the equation. Could I really face the responsibility of taking life in the name of something I didn’t understand, didn’t believe in?
These thoughts and conflicting emotions they stirred up didn’t bring me any peace or resolution. Sighing, I acknowledged there was little choice for now and so I would continue to follow along until my chains were loosened. Then I would see how things stood. I was and always would be a man of action.
CHAPTER 9
“It’s a kind of Magic”
Perched comfortably on the broken log, the setting sun warm against my face, I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, a and dispelled my tumultuous thoughts and willed my HUD to show in my vision.
Immediately, I saw a green bar along the top of my HUD showing my health at 100%. Directly below it was a purple bar, also at 100%. This I assumed was my Mana pool or Font. I willed it to the bottom of my vision. I now had the two bars within sight at all times. I thought about my combat log and a blinking cursor hovered over the bottom right of my view. I activated it and my Combat log appeared. I looked at the last entry:
You have damaged Dark Assassin Raúl Sánchez for 38 points of burning damage.
I closed it with a thought, and willed my character sheet to show skills. The list was long.
General Skills
Swimming
Fitness
Reactions
Climbing
Running
Balance
…….
10
7
6
8
7
9
and so the list went on. I noticed almost all had scores between 6 to 10 with the highest being 12 for Improvisation. There were a few highlighted headings which opened submenus when I looked at them. I decided they were best left closed. Way too much information. I could see why Major Stone had decided not to go through all these skills with me. It was a laborious list and there was a lot of crossover. The one thing I noticed was that magical specialties were greyed out.
Hinting that they would only show clearly once I had accomplished some magic. After seeing Raúl’s effortless vanishing act, I had little doubt we could do magic here, but I was more than a little skeptical that it was possible in real life. Could a simple brain adjustment really open a human’s magical potential?
I decided to try something. Going to my Magical skills view, I looked again at the five different magical types. There was no clue how to use them, no button to press or gesture required. So closing the sheet I instead willed it to happen.
Breathing deep, calming my mind, I willed a fireball to issue forth from my palm and out into the distance. I felt… I felt something pull at me, like a gentle tug, and then I smelled something burning. I quickly opened my eyes, to see the remains of my fireball landing in the reeds about 20 meters in front of me.
“Yes!” I shouted in exuberance. The excitement of my achievement too much to contain. I realized abstractly that perhaps my new body had more testosterone than I was ordinarily used to. I would have to check my emotions. My HUD showed that only a fraction of the Mana bar had disappeared. This time I tried to do it with eyes wide open.
Disappointingly, it was more like a sparkler than a fireball, but it was something. I kept at it. My frustration grew, it was a lot harder than I had anticipated. Each cast was like a conflict of belief and logic. Logic dictated it couldn’t be done, but if I believed it enough, if I allowed it to happen, then the sparkler fire flare happened. Almost subconsciously triggered. If I actively tried to fire, like take aim and pull the trigger, it felt like I was shooting a dud and nothing happened. I hoped that it wouldn’t always be like this, but I was relatively happy that I had achieved some success.
By this time the sun was close to setting, and satisfied that my alone time had been productive, I went back to the beacon and touched it, willing myself back into my body.
CHAPTER 10
Detached Limbo
I opened my eyes with a start and found myself back in the whitewashed room. My body ached all over, but it was a healthy kind of ache, the type you get when you are healing. I realized that all the surgery had happened just a few hours ago, and I was most likely going to ache for a good while yet. I tried to look around for Grant. I really had lots of questions, but he wasn’t in sight and I was fixed again within this aspect of my reality. I reflected on the irony that my existence here was less real than the simulations. In fact, if I had a choice, I would much rather be in those free-roaming places than stuck here in detached limbo.
I tried to call out for Grant, but all I got was a strange gurgling sound from my throat. Closing my eyes, I tried the mind communication he had insisted on when we first met. His reply was instant and my relief was a sore point I reminded myself not to feel. Remember, he is your slave master, not your savior. I scolded myself.
“Grant! It’s good to speak with you,” I crooned.
“I have always been here Petros. I have been waiting for your communication. We show you the way, and we expect you to be competent enough to figure out the details. What would you like to ask me? Although I must stress for you to be brief, I am involved in a crucial operation that requires my assistance and full concentration.”
“Is that something to do with Major Stones’ team?” I asked with a flash of insight, remembering Major Stone's blank expression before he
hustled away with his team. It looked like he had received some kind of summons or notification.
“Major Gladstone and his team are involved, yes. I gather your time with him was fruitful?”
“Yes, quite fruitful as you put it. What I want to know Grant, is what can you tell me that will make my subsequent Sims more successful?”
“I also want to know how long I will take to heal fully and if the healing of my body will affect my abilities in the Sims?”
Grant paused before responding, “These are tricky questions, Petros, as the answers will influence the results; However, I have noticed that you like to plan and be prepared. So let me answer the second question by saying the condition of your body and its healing will not affect your ability in the Sims, although you may find the brain surgery will take several days to complete and may cause you a few dizzy spells.”
“Brain surgery?” I squawked in alarm. “What do you mean brain surgery?”
“Well, considering you have increased your Intelligence and Wisdom and selected a unique and challenging Class, we found it necessary to activate parts of your brain that previously have lain dormant. It is not an invasive procedure, however, as we use nanobots to stimulate the neurons and create synthetic pathways within your brain. You won’t feel any pain from it, but your memory of past events will become more clear, thus allowing you to access that knowledge with ease. Additionally, the neurons and ganglia essential to learning and using what you call magic, need reinforcement, and extra stimulation.
I will also give you a special sequence of mental exercises that will allow that part of your brain to function correctly. You may also get flashbacks of your past; This is normal and a direct response to the internal stimulation you are undergoing. Now I must ask you to standby. I am needed elsewhere and we can discuss the rest of what you asked at a future time. I will now administer your nutrients and you may enjoy your dream state until then.”
And with that, he was gone. It was as if he had walked out of the room we had been conversing in. All these sensations were so unreal and yet so intuitive. I realized I was slowly getting the hang of it. I heard the strange sound of the machine as it pumped in the liquid nirvana and I drifted off to sleep doing exactly as Grant had suggested.
This time, I dreamed of Africa. Before me lay the vast open bushveld, the dry yellow grass was shifting in swishing waves with the gusting wind that brought the scent of coming rain. A low rumble could be heard in the clouds as distant thunder resonated across the landscape. Out before me was a wide valley of familiar life. Umbrella-topped acacia trees interspersed across the landscape with outcroppings of shrubs and trees. The unmistakable silhouettes of giraffe evident as they grazed from their tall lofty heights in the treetops. Small herds of elephant moved hurriedly towards the valleys meandering river for their daily mud bath, while, if you listened carefully the distant echoes of roaring lions stretched out across the plains. Their stated majesty over the land without question. Nervous antelope, buffalo, and zebra frolicked in great herds while they grazed restlessly, the coming rain making them frisky and temperamental.
Above in the roiling storm clouds, a lone African Fish Eagle called out its haunting cry as it glided effortlessly through turbulent winds. The higher pitch of its cry a perfect counter for all the other deeper bellows and brays below. It was a poignant memory of my teens. A place I went to often.
The Kruger national park was as big as some countries, a country of Africa’s finest wildlife and a bastion for many endangered species. It was a memory I had forgotten in my mad dash through life. It was where I felt most at home and at peace in those early years. Connected.
As I stared out over the vista, the clouds rushed in. A violent interruption with lightning and thunder that cracked and sizzled. Blocking the suns glorious golden rays. The wind suddenly cold, blew stinging drops of rain onto the hungry, dry earth. A few drops at first, then like a drum roll gaining momentum to an ear-splitting crescendo. The pregnant clouds bursting to bring new life to a parched land. I felt the drops hit me, the wind buffet me and the noises of cicadas, zebra, buffalo, and lions fade away.
I could only hear the drumming of the drops onto the dirt, driving a deluge of changing fortunes onto the land of my birth. Invigorated I wanted to run and be one with the storm. Soaking wet now, the rain drenching me. I felt connected and separate all at the same time. It was a good memory. Wholesome and fulfilling. I woke up feeling more refreshed than at any time I could remember.
The feeling of bliss lasted until I found myself in my detached state in the white room. There was movement in the room and Grant seemed to be there. I just knew it. “Grant?” I called out with my mind. “Are you there?”
“Yes Petros, I am here, I take it you mean am I here in the room with you. If you called out in that way, I would have been able to respond from anywhere in the ship. Your mental powers grow. We are excited to have one such as you as part of our team.”
“If that’s the case, why am I strapped up like this? I’m still your prisoner. “
“While you may not believe it, you are immobile for two reasons, the first reason is so that your new changes can adequately take effect without harming you, and the second reason is so that your new changes won’t harm us. We are not a physically dominant species and subduing you would take no small amount of effort. Besides, you still have to prove you are capable. That is what the training is all about.”
“Will you answer my question before you put me into the next Sim?” I asked.
A thoughtful pause occurred then Grant replied, “The next Sim will be challenging. More so than what you have experienced. It will still be an Earth-like environment, but a harsh one. I will expect you to survive and prevail.”
“You mean like the desert one? Sahara Sim? I had absolutely no chance in that one.”
“Quite,” replied Grant smugly. “That Sim was for humility more than anything else. That you killed several of the Beetle creatures was remarkable. We always arrange the first Sim so you experience the death and become grateful to survive. It is also a humbling prospect. Which reminds me, unfortunately, you have inadvertently interfered with Sarah’s experience. She was supposed to experience death in Nico Sim. You interrupted a defining moment in her training.”
“I see,” I replied as contritely as possible, but perhaps there was a small measure of smugness in my inner voice “I will try not to ruin any more of your plans.”
Grant seemed to laugh. It was the strangest feeling. I couldn’t see his face. I couldn’t even hear the reverberations in the air, but I got the distinct impression that his lips had curled into a smile. “You cannot hide your emotions well enough yet, and your thoughts bleed through. I have no doubt you are delighted to have, how to say, put a spanner in the works, but Oscar will rectify it. We are as much to blame as you are. Before you ask, the reason we do that first is to create humility, but also because it is something that leaves fewer scars when it happens so quickly. You become accustomed to the idea of it, if that is at all possible. Once accepting that death is not final in the Sims, you will push yourself beyond your comfort zones, secure in the knowledge you will survive. We have also found that delaying the experience causes unnecessary anxiety in the trainees.”
“Regarding your progress though, it is uncommon that a human gets to level 5 without dying at least as many times.”
“As I have remarked to others, you are unique and have achieved something rather unusual. My superiors are excited that you should continue and be qualified as soon as possible. Our recent forays have left us exposed and we need someone of your caliber out in the field.”
“So you can’t give me clothes, armor, weapons? I’m well trained with those. Why waste those talents?”
“Those talents are not wasted, and they may come in handy when you are fortunate enoug
h to acquire such weapons, but we will never provide those. You will gain the skills to provide for yourself. Our situation forbids us to arm you so. It would cause a full-scale war to erupt between a formidable enemy and us. One, which we would lose against. Our abilities lie in equipping others to do our fighting for us; We do as much as we can to undermine our mutual enemies without direct confrontation. Now you must face your challenges. Survive for seven days or reach the beacon. Prepare yourself.” With that, he faded out of our mental connection and things got hazy.
Blinking a few times I tried to make out what was going on but realized the surrounding landscape was changing.
CHAPTER 11
Snow-capped
Snow! Of all the scenarios I could have wanted, snow was not it. I hated the stuff. Cold, miserable and mysteriously fluffy, it coated everything as far as I could see. Fir trees and rugged rocky cliffs extended around mountainous peaks. It looked like Grant had dropped me into the Rocky’s. Perhaps this was Canada Sim. It wouldn’t surprise me.
Breathing out, the fog of my breath billowed like a cloud. Each breath was invigorating and sharp as if I was chewing a handful of spearmint gum. I felt the numbing cold then, driven by the wind. It seeped into me, sucking out all my warmth. I looked down at my loincloth-clad body, gooseflesh already pervading my skin and knew this Sim would suck.
My first thought was to find shelter. Then assess any threats and deal with them as needed, then plan for extraction. I was to reach a beacon within seven day’s time. Sure enough, I looked for it and the flashing beacon was active on my internal compass. It seemed like I had to go over the mountains or around them to get to it. I moved towards some fir trees that were growing below a rocky ledge about half a click to my north. The weather didn’t look good and I would need that shelter sooner rather than later.