by D. B. Goodin
Nigel used several search techniques to find what he was looking for: attacks that leveraged a certain brand of flash drive called a “rubber quacky.” Despite its ridiculous name, the quacky was a powerful weapon. The quacky’s manufacturer, HakSystems, claimed their devices were for research purposes only, but Nigel knew of many attacks that used the quacky to deploy malware. This technique was even used by highly funded nation-states. All the adversary had to do was infect the flash drive, and then add a label like “payroll,” or “porn.” Then they had to pretend to lose the flash drives in parking lots or public restrooms. The adversary’s plan relied on one crucial element. Human curiosity; employees would pick up the drives and insert them into one of the company systems. Then the entire segment network would be owned.
Most manufactures of the flash drives added metadata in serial numbers that identified where and when a particular device was made. Nigel wanted to see if he could track any of that metadata against the information he’d found on the Raid Cookies site.
I’d better get comfortable. This is going to take a while.
Chapter 4
As Nigel entered the loft he had to squint as the late afternoon light penetrated the open windows. He liked working near the window this time of day because he could see Jet. He also looked forward to watching the sunset with her as the day turned into dusk. Jet was already settled in for the evening at the kitchen table. She looked like she was going to be there for a while.
“Are you ready for date night?” Nigel asked.
Jet chewed on her lip. Nigel knew it was one of her nervous habits.
“Oh, sorry—I forgot that I’m getting online with April this afternoon. It’s been a couple of months since we played the Colossal Machine. Last time we were together we got her to the fifth circle of magic.”
“Okay. While you’re doing that, I’m going to work on that image of Peter’s computer.”
“You’ve been working on that image day and night. Is he paying you for the extra work?” Jet chided.
“No, but . . . there’s something about the malware that infected his system. It’s not like anything I’ve seen. I need to examine it further.”
Her brow furrowed, and she appeared to be deep in thought. Nigel wasn’t sure what she was thinking.
“Tell you what,” she said. “Join us—it’s been months since we’ve all played together.”
“I don’t want to intrude on your time with April, and besides, I’m not a magic user. I would just slow you down.”
“We will be there to bail you out if you get into trouble. I will not let the sludgelings get you . . . not this time, anyway,” Jet said, laughing.
Later, Nigel was glad he’d joined the gaming session. I’ve been working on Peter’s image for days—I could use a break.
Jet logged into the Colossal Machine. As it had been months since all of them had played, Nigel knew she didn’t want to disappoint April.
Nigel fetched his computer and started the patching process. He realized Pretzelverse, the developers of the Colossal Machine had been releasing several out-of-band patches.
There are a lot of small micro-patches. I bet these are all security related.
“Nigel, we are at my microcosm,” Jet said. “You joining us or what?”
In the world of the Colossal Machine, a microcosm was a private in-game construct that allowed players to build and decorate their own private space. Only players with high enough skills and resources could afford this luxury.
I should have been building up my character instead of leveling characters for Jake and Donnie!
Moments later, Nigel was at the login prompt. It had changed since the last time he saw it; instead of graphics depicting a space portal leading into a vast fantasy world, the login screen resembled an altar. Even with the enhanced AR glasses, something about the graphic was disturbing. Nigel entered his login information, then reached for his phone to enter the multi-factor authentication (MFA) code required to validate his identity. In an instant, he was teleported into the world of the Colossal Machine. But something didn’t feel right.
I feel strange—what’s the matter with me?
Nigel rubbed his eyes. He had been putting in a lot of late nights deciphering the code on Peter’s computer. Jet was right; he deserved a break. But when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t at his computer, Jet was gone, and the world was missing. He couldn’t tell where he was. He shivered as an icy breeze touched this face. Nigel couldn’t see anything; he was blindfolded.
Where am I?
“Jet, did we lose power or something?” Nigel said.
Something pushed him forward. He tried to resist, but the effort was futile. Then someone tied his hands behind his back. The sudden movement seemed to move the blindfold. He thought he could make out some dark shapes. Something scratched his arm.
“A sacrifice is in order—me lord,” a gruff voice said.
“Sacrifice? Who the hell are you people?”
“People? We not like you, human.”
“Then who the hell are you?”
“Bach’dor the Great—or I will be, once I turn in the bounty on your head, human. Now move!”
Another push.
“You may approach the altar,” a strong, commanding voice said.
Bach’dor dragged him then threw him to the ground; it was icy cold. Nigel scraped a knuckle, and the warm sensation of blood drip across his fingers.
“You may remove his bindings and blindfold.”
“Are you sure, m’lord?” Bach’dor said.
A moment later, someone untied Nigel’s restraints. He couldn’t believe what he saw; it was like the game had transported him into a movie set. A giant troll of a man sat before him. Nigel estimated his height was at least seven feet. His arms were the size of one of Nigel’s thighs, and his head was massive. He looked like a cross between an oversized pig and a professional wrestler. His face was the most disturbing. In additional to the many scars that crisscrossed his face, he had a giant nose ring.
“Are you Nige the Wicked?” the giant pig man said.
“Huh?” Nigel asked.
“Yes—he’s the one responsible for the deaths of so many innocents in Parousia,” Bach’dor said as he stuttered out the last few words.
The giant pig-man threw a rather large sack in the air. Nigel had to duck to avoid getting hit. Nigel looked to see another shorter—but no less grotesque—pig-like creature catch the sack, and then he made it disappear into his robes.
“Take him away,” the larger pig-man said.
Before Nigel could say anything, darkness engulfed him as the sack was pulled down, and he was dragged away by some unseen force.
“Hello? Earth to Nigel, you there?” Jet said.
Nigel was back in his loft. The login screen showing the altar was gone; instead, the login screen showing the portal was prominently displayed.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Nigel said.
Jet gave him a wary look.
“Where did you go? You totally zoned out for a moment. What happened to your hand?”
Nigel looked at his hand; it looked like he had scraped it against a brick wall.
Strange!
“I’ll be back,” Nigel said as he headed toward the bathroom.
Jet and April were already inside the game. Jet had a full set of VR gear and was usually lost to the world when she was in game mode. If the full VR goggles and gloves weren’t bad enough, Pretzelverse had sent her a prototype of a full-body suit that resembled a high-tech wetsuit. This gear allowed her to control aspects of the game without using a traditional keyboard and mouse. She seemed to be having a fun time based on the laughter and other bemused sounds she was making.
Nigel’s interface to the Colossal Machine was basic. He wore a pair of AR glasses with a built-in speaker and microphone combination. Jet had given him her old sensory suit that sent some sensations to the player if they got hit. It wasn’t very good, but he liked being aware that someo
ne was hitting him; Nigel hated the visual indicators, because they were distracting. He preferred controlling his character by old-school methods. He didn’t mind, but the amount of keystroke combinations required became tedious. After Nigel logged into the game, he had to reorient himself to his new surroundings. He was facing a wall and couldn’t move. A system message appeared on his in-game interface.
<<>>
System Message: Greetings, JetaGirl is inviting you to a party.
Do you accept?
<<>>
Nigel accepted the party invite and tried to move; he couldn’t move an in-game muscle.
“Nige, where are you?” Jet said.
“I don’t know, I think I’m chained up.”
“Hmmm, the in-game menu doesn’t seem to show me your location. I’m going to attempt to cast a Locate Party spell.”
Several moments later, Nigel was still immobilized.
“Did it work? I’m still trapped.”
“You are in the Queen’s Tower! How in the hell did you get there?”
“I think I was in or under Strombach the last time I was in the game. Do you think you can get to me?”
“That is a high-level area, Nigel. Do you have any recall stones?”
Nigel checked his inventory, but someone seemed to have cleared all his items. He checked the status menus, and all his stats were at base levels.
“Someone robbed me as well,” Nigel said.
Small vibrations came from the suit, tingling his shoulders and upper arms.
I’m losing health.
Pain shot through Nigel’s arm. It was more of a jolt than he was expecting. His muscles contracted.
Argh, this really hurts. I’ve never experienced pain in the game before.
A cracking sound emitted from behind. He collapsed to the floor, and an acrid electrical smell hung in the air. Nigel turned; he expected to see Jet and April, but instead there was a pale-looking man of medium height dressed completely in black who was blocking the only exit.
Nigel took stock of his situation; he was dressed in a leather outfit, which was basic garb for a level-one rogue.
What happened to my gear?
“Who are you?” Nigel asked the man.
The man remained silent.
“Jet, do you read me?”
All communications from his avatar were cut off.
“You are alone in this world,” the man said in a deep, baritone voice that gave Nigel chills.
He got a better look at the man. His eyes were completely black.
“Am I a prisoner here?”
“You are a guest of Queen Amerdelle.”
The queen must be cruel if she keeps her guests locked in a cell. I should examine the cell.
Nigel dragged his hands against the wall; it was jagged, stony, and icy to the touch. He tried wriggling the stones, looking for some kind of lever to a control mechanism. He was about to give up when a clanking sound resonated throughout the room. A rumbling sensation reverberated as the door opened. A woman that appeared to be in her late twenties entered. She was wearing some sort of warrior’s garb. A ruddy red-and-brown-looking substance covered most of her white skin. The pale man stepped aside to allow her to enter.
“Are you the queen?” Nigel said.
The woman let out a grunt, then attached a metal collar to Nigel’s neck, and then a leather strap. Moments later, he was being dragged out of his cell like some sort of dog. The hallway was dark and had a musty smell to it. Small square windows provided illumination from above. Other doors on either side of the hall were visible as he followed the barbarian-like woman. After what seemed like an eternity, they prodded Nigel into a massive chamber lit by various candles and torches. An open window appeared behind a gigantic ebony throne; the sun wasn’t visible, just a purple glow. The effect was enough to give the room an eerie look.
Nigel tasted bile as his stomach churned. His jailer removed the collar, then stood just to the left of the throne. The creepy-looking pale man took his place on the opposite side. A moment later, a woman entered the room from behind the throne. She was wearing a long black dress beneath a red cloak. Instead of a crown, two massive horns protruded from the top of her head and curled in a swirling pattern behind her. Her red lips were accented by black.
She’s beautiful, but she’s a boss.
“Who is this?” the horned woman said.
“I’m Nigel. Are you Queen Amerdelle?”
Nigel’s legs trembled.
“You shall address the queen properly,” the pale man said as he waved his hands.
Nigel felt like he was being controlled, like a puppet.
“Stand down, Etras,” Queen Amerdelle said. The pale man did as commanded.
The queen stared at Nigel like he was a bug that needed to be squashed.
“Pledge your fealty to the queen,” Etras said.
I don’t think pledging anything—especially my loyalty to the Mad Queen—is a good idea.
“What happens if I don’t?” Nigel said.
“Then you die,” the queen said.
Nigel hated dying in the Colossal Machine; he always seemed to lose gear and experience points when he did. Nigel remained silent for a long moment, pondering his options. The touch of a cold steel blade distracted him.
“Pledge, or lose your head,” the barbarian woman said.
Before Nigel could respond, a bright blue oval appeared. Two robed figures emerged. Nigel recognized Jet’s snow-white Magi outfit, which comprised a thick embroidered white robe with gold trim. April wore a simple gray robe.
“In-Por-Ot-Bem,” April said.
The room filled with a yellow luminescence.
“What’s the meaning of this? How dare you barge into my chambers like common gutter rats,” Queen Amerdelle said. “Kneel and beg my forgiveness.”
“I shall never submit to your kind, wicked temptress,” Jet said.
The queen stood and unclasped her robe, revealing the low-cut black dress that looked like sexy underwear to Nigel. She waved her arms into the air and started mumbling something incoherent. Her forearms changed; it was like someone was painting her arms with a crimson tar-like substance. The queen’s eyes turned black as her hands danced in the air.
“Un-Por-Vet-Dak-Mth,” Queen Amerdelle bellowed.
The walls liquefied and poured onto the floor like black paint. Nigel thought he heard low guttural sounds emit from the black goo.
“It’s the black death,” April said.
“Sludgelings, don’t let them touch you,” Jet yelled.
Status bars with red and blue indicators appeared for Jet and April. Red and green bars for Nigel appeared.
Nigel jumped up out of reflex as the inky-black creatures edged closer. April took out a piece of chalk from her robe and started drawing a circle around her and Jet.
“Come, Nigel,” April urged.
It was a tight squeeze, but the three players all huddled in the small chalk circle as Jet began some sort of incantation.
“Here,” April said as she thrust a dagger into Nigel’s hands.
“In-Por-Vet-Em,” Jet recited as she raised her arms.
White light shot out of the blue crystal at the end of Jet’s gold staff. A translucent blue shield rose from the floor; it seemed to emit from the chalk lines that April had drawn. A squealing noise emitted from the sludgelings as their slimy bodies came into contact with the circle. The barbarian woman struck the shield with her sword. She didn’t penetrate the shield, but it flickered. The queen’s face twisted into a snarl as she extended her arms toward Nigel and his companions. The pale man also started an incantation.
“Un-Ot-Mth-Dak-Vet,” the queen and Etras said in unison.
Something extinguished all light from the room. A faint glow from the outside window provided the only illumination. A check of the party’s stats revealed that Jet’s blue mana bar was getting dangerously low. April’s red bar, which showed health, was starting to slowly tick down
ward. The room rocked. Nigel shivered for a moment before he heard the roar, and a beast materialized in front of the group. The creature resembled a fleshy clump with horns, half-covered eyes, with puss and ichor oozing from its head.
“What the hell is that?” Nigel said.
“A dark denizen,” Jet replied.
Dark denizens were the most powerful beings in the world of the Colossal Machine. Powerful spells were one of the few things that could summon these monstrosities. Sometimes players could control dark denizens, but that was rare. Nigel didn’t know that anything besides casting magic could summon one. This one seemed to be the Mad Queen’s pet.
“Come, Rolf, look what mommy has for you,” the queen said with delight.
What twisted soul would even name a dark denizen? Now I see why she is called the Mad Queen.
The queen and her henchmen continued funneling dark energy into the creature. The queen’s face changed. Her beautiful appearance morphed into something that looked like a banshee; her face stretched and distorted. Streaks of blood poured from the horns and onto her face. Nigel got into a crouching position, waiting to strike once the shield gave way. Moments later, the shield flickered rapidly.
“The shield’s failing—be ready for anything,” Jet said.
Nigel reviewed the party’s health and mana. Jet’s mana bar was almost replenished, but everyone’s health was decreasing.
I hope Jet has something up her sleeve, otherwise we are denizen food.
Nigel’s dagger started glowing, the silver blade turning white. It became hot as lava. An acrid smell assaulted his nose.
I could smell my skin burning, Jet’s suit makes the game more lifelike than anything I had before.
He dropped the blade. As the shield evaporated, the dark denizen started flopping about on the floor like a jumping meatball. As it inched closer, a giant tongue shot from one of the creature’s many mouths and wrapped around Nigel’s neck. His health bar was decreasing by the second. He dove for the blade, but the creature held him into position.