by Matt Moss
I cock my head in disbelief. “Oh, really. Then why do you have it? And more importantly, why are you willing to trade it for a small batch of furs?”
“Because it’s bad luck and I want rid of its curse.”
I laugh and take the cloak for inspection. “Fine quality. Stitching is good. And I like the color gray. It’s not so fancy that only a rich man would wear it, neither is it too plain that it would mark me as a commoner,” I tell him. His eyes light up, waiting on me to make the deal. I figure what the hell. “It’s a deal. Furs for a cloak.”
“No deal,” he says and snatches the cloak back. His eyes narrow at mine. “My cloak is much more valuable than your furs, so there must be compensation to make the deal fair.”
I shrug. “Fair enough. What do you have in mind? I’ll be back tomorrow for more furs if you’d like me to throw a few more in to sweeten the deal.”
“No, the furs you have now will do. Now let’s see. What else can you bring to the table?” He thinks for a moment and looks in the direction of the town.
I can see the lights from the shops and houses peeking through the darkened woods as I wait on him to answer.
He looks back at me, his eyes seeming more bright than before. “I require a favor from you. Just one, no more. Not today or tomorrow, but sometime in the future when our paths cross again.”
Something about this feels off. I don’t like owing anybody anything.
It’s just a game.
Right. This is just a game, and I’ll probably never see this crazy man again. I stick my hand out to shake on it. “Deal.”
He smiles and shakes my hand, his touch feeling strangely cold, nearly stinging my skin. Without hesitation, he takes the sack of furs and places them into his pack. After a quick gather of his scattered goods, he nods and bids me farewell. There’s an extra pep in his step, like he’s just been released from prison.
“See ya later,” I say, knowing that I’ll never see him again. I shake my head. “There’s some crazy people in this game.” A bitter chill is in the air now that the sun’s gone down, so I equip the cloak from my inventory for whatever warmth it can provide. As I begin to run out of the woods, I look down at my hands and they start to fade. My arms, legs, and body all disappear and I nearly fall, thinking I’ve lost my mind. “Impossible. Maybe it’s just a glitch in the game.”
I look back to where I just saw the trader—the mysterious man of the woods. He’s nowhere to be seen.
I bend down to pick up a stick and see it levitate in mid air, though I know it’s my hand that holds it. My mind begins to reel with the possibilities of what this ability can get me and I can barely believe my good fortune.
First day in Alterlife.
And I just struck gold.
4
FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES
Lying to your family is a weird feeling. It’s not a little white lie like when you tell your wife you have to stay over at work, but you’re really grabbing a quick beer at the bar before heading home. It’s not telling your kid that you’ll be at their ball game, then not showing up because you forgot.
The lie I’m telling my family right now is a big one. They think that I’m going to my job to make money, when in reality I’m going to play a video game for an entire work day’s time.
It’s not a complete lie, though. This game is like work, and there’s money to be made. I have to treat it like a job, if only for a couple weeks. After I make some serious cash, I’m out.
And it should be easy to do with my new invisibility cloak. I just have to think of a way to make it work for me.
Reading through the forums last night, I found out that I’m playing on the North American server which combines Canada and South America. There are three other servers—Europe, Asia, and Africa—and each one has their own version of Alterlife. The language is universally understood through AI, and gold is still the currency in the game. I read that the other servers have a better trade market with cryptocurrency, which makes the markets there more volatile. But it also has the allure of getting rich quick. One thread said, ‘How the Darknet is Becoming the Most Lucrative Market for Trading Alterlife Currency.’
I can hardly contain my excitement as I run up the stairs to my friend’s apartment, eager to log back in. The keys fumble in the door, I nearly trip over a pair of shoes because his place is a wreck, and come close to pissing all over myself because I drank too much coffee and didn’t want to stop to use the restroom on the forty five minute drive.
Back in the recliner, I turn the NueView on and log into the game.
I’m standing at the fountain.
Also, I found on the forums that a player spawns at the fountain every time until they buy a house, log out at an inn, or make camp. There are also guild houses that you can log out at if you’re fortunate enough to get invited to one.
Maybe I’ll make my own guild. Why can’t I? Screw the Black Knights. Why can’t my guild become one of the most powerful guilds in the world?
Then a thought strikes me. I need to join the Black Knights. And if what Eldra said was true about them, they’re the most powerful guild in Alterlife and have the best players. They have the heart of a dragon—a respectable trophy—the respect of the community, and probably more loot than anyone’s ever seen.
Who knows what other artifacts and rares they might have.
I’m going to find out.
A Warrior spawns next to me, dressed in heavy leathers and carrying a large double-axe. Immediately, he runs out of town in a hurry, towards the woods where I was yesterday, but doesn’t miss the opportunity to kick a rabbit on his way down the road. The poor thing flies fifty feet into the woods like a small, white, fluffy soccer ball, and the man trudges on into the vast unknown.
I shake my head.
Another player spawns near me. She looks at her hands, her arms, her feet. Newbie.
Like a ghost manifesting itself, Gamemaster Deakins appears by the fountain, dressed in a blue Tailored suit. “Greetings. Welcome to Alterlife,” he tells her, then looks at me. “Ah, Ace. Welcome back. How was your first day?”
“It was good, thanks.”
He inclines his head. “And did you visit Eldra?”
“I did. She’s very… proficient.”
He points at me and grins. “A well chosen word.”
“I wouldn’t want to choose a wrong one with her.”
Deakins chuckles. “Wise man.”
I glance at her shop and wonder if she knows how I can find the Black Knights. I wonder if she’ll be my guide. She won’t unless I give her cause to. Should I tell her about the cloak?
“Ace, would you mind showing this newcomer the ropes?”
“Sorry, I gotta run.” I leave Deakins, make my way to Eldra’s, and burst through the door. She’s not there and I go into panic mode because it’s not like I have a lot of time to kill. I turn around and find a note on the floor that must have blown off the door.
‘Out on business. Be back tomorrow.’
“Damn.” I hit the streets in search of gossip. Somebody around this town’s gotta know something about the guild and where to find them. “Inventory.” After a quick check of my goods, I’m relieved to see that the cloak is still in my possession. I got some change in my pocket thanks to all the furs I collected yesterday.
To the tavern!
If there’s one place in the world where you can dig up some information, the bar is the place to go. It just needs to be the right bar, at the right time. And you’d better be willing to pay for it, because the right information ain’t cheap.
Hopefully they like to drink as much here as they do in the real world. Easier to pry information from a drunkard’s lips.
The noise of a crowded tavern full of inebriated patrons fills the street long before I arrive at the door. A sign outside reads ‘Bailey’s’ and the place looks like a hole-in-the-wall. It’s barely nine in the morning and there’s already an altercation outside the bar; two men argui
ng with each other and a Gamemaster acting as mediator.
The game verifies my age before allowing me access to the tavern. Inside it smells like smoke, cheap cologne, and ale, and there’s not an empty table in the place. The serving girls are NPCs, or non-playable characters, and have already been called ‘beer wench’ three times since I walked into the joint. They smile, nod their heads, and go on with their jobs.
I make my way to the bar without bumping any shoulders and order a drink. “Jack Daniels with three ice cubes. And a water.” I only order the whiskey to fit in with the crowd. I don’t plan on drinking it.
“Two gold,” the bartender says and pours a glass. I toss the money on the bar, pull the drink towards me, and look around. It’s a jovial place, and a lute player sets the tone from her place in the corner, the crowd seeming to have a good time overall. The server girls are busy running around, and one nearly bumps into me as she gives the bartender her order. As she waits on the drinks, she speaks to me. “Apologies for that.”
I wave her off. “It’s alright. I used to wait tables for a spell back in the day. Tough job, dealing with the public.”
She smiles, but doesn't say anything else. A moment later, the drinks are ready and placed on a tray. She takes them to the table of patrons. “Thanks, beer wench!” they say and share a laugh. Toast to a good time.
I stop my wandering gaze and turn back to my water.
A woman sits beside me, short dark hair, tender face, tanned dark skin, dressed in leather riding gear—simple pants, jerkin, boots. Reminds me of Halle Berry. “Hello, handsome.”
I nearly choke on my water.
“You must be handsome in real life, too. Or desire to be. I’ve always found it fascinating that the game doesn’t allow a player to choose their avatar. It simply uses AI and goes off of the brainwaves and desires of the user to create their avatar here in Alterlife.”
Not wanting to be rude, I return the compliment. “Well, you’re very attractive yourself. I didn’t know that about the avatars, though. That’s very interesting.” Strange I never even thought of it before now. I don’t even know what I look like in the game.
“What are you drinking?” she asks.
I notice the bow slung across her back. “Jack. Kind of surprised to see that they have it here in Alterlife. You a scout or something? Archer class?”
“You’d be surprised at what you can have here,” she says and lights a cigarette. “I’m a Ranger. Buy me a drink?”
“It’ll cost you,” I tell her.
She leans on the bar and plays coy. “Will it, now? What do you have in mind?”
I take a slow drink of water before answering. “I’m looking for a guild.”
She tells the bartender what she wants. “Vodka with a splash of grenadine. Two cherries.” She takes a drag and turns to me. “Does this guild have a name?”
“The Black Knights.”
She nearly chokes on her smoke. “People don’t just go looking for the Black Knights. Usually it’s the other way around. And it doesn’t bode well for whoever it is they’re looking for.” The drink comes. She throws the cherries over her shoulder and shoots it down. Without batting an eye, she turns to me and places her head on her hand, leaning on the bar as she gives me a pitiful look. “A piece of advice; keep your head down and your reputation unknown. You’ll live longer that way.”
I turn in my seat to face her, and feel the temptation to show her the cloak so she takes me serious. “You haven’t said no yet. Suppose that means you’re saying you will,” I say with a grin.
She sits up straight, shakes her head, and turns back to the bar. “You’re impossible.” She signals the bartender for another drink.
“How much?” I ask.
“How much, what?”
“Name your price. What will it cost for you to take me to them?”
She smiles and looks up in disbelief. “I don’t know. How about twenty grand?”
“Deal. Twenty g’s.”
She leans towards me. “Upfront.”
I turn back to the bar. “No can do.” I take a slow drink of water. She’s still interested. “I’ll have you twenty by the end of the week. Another twenty after you take me to the BKs. Fair?”
The drink appears and she shoots it down again, staring into my eyes to see if I’m lying.
“I’m not lying,” I tell her.
“Tell you what; if you can get me the money by Friday, I’ll take you to the BKs.” She chuckles to herself. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“How do I know that you’ll take me to them? For all I know, you could be bluffing.”
“I know where they are,” she replies.
“Really? How so?”
“Trust me,” she says, then stands in a hurry to make her exit. She leans close to whisper in my ear before leaving. “Meet me here with the money on Friday morning. If the money’s good, then I’ll take you to them. You have my word.”
After she’s gone, I take my leave. Somehow I need to come up with the money by Friday.
Damn, you forgot to ask her name!
The sun is set high, and Gamemaster Deakins meets me outside of Bailey’s. “Ace, do you have a moment? I’d like to speak to you about something. It’s rather important.”
Small town. “Sure, but I really don’t have time to show the newcomers around. What’s up?”
“Walk with me.” He leads the way through the streets and around the back of the bank. Behind the building, there’s an entryway for extra storage that a player can purchase for a small fee; like a safety deposit box but much larger.
He stops at the vault marked ‘2000’. “Bank,” he says and the door opens. “Normally, if a player says bank, near the bank, their contents are displayed only for them to see, and they can either store or withdraw their goods. But this vault is special, and you have to physically walk in. Stay here.”
The door closes as I try to steal a peek at what’s inside. A few minutes pass before he returns, the door locking in place behind him. He hands me a sack of gold and it immediately goes into my inventory. “Would you be so kind to deliver this to Eldra in the morning? I told her that she would receive the payment by tomorrow but, alas, something else calls my attention and I won’t be able to deliver it in person.”
It’s twenty thousand gold.
This can’t be real.
I take it as a sign.
“Sure thing. I’ll make sure she gets the money.” After I pay my way to get to the Black Knights.
He smiles and pats me on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Ace. Thank you. I won’t forget it.”
“Awfully trusting, aren’t you?”
“No. But I think I can trust you. It’s in the eyes; you’re a good and honest man.”
“I appreciate that.” Truth is, I’m not. I want to be, but I’m not.
The world keeps holding me back. The system that’s set in place.
“Go on. Put it in your bank so that you don’t risk losing it by carrying it in your inventory,” he tells me.
I break my blank stare. “Right. Bank. There you go. Safe and sound.”
“Very good. Thank you, Ace.”
“No problem.”
He vanishes into thin air like Gamemasters do, and I’m standing there dumbfounded.
It’s like this game has been waiting for me. Everything seems to be falling into place and I can’t believe my good fortune.
Outside Bailey’s, in the hot midday air, the party has extended to the street and the town has come to life. Seems people like getting a buzz in the game as much as they do in real life. And I wonder if it’s the same feeling? It’s a game, so I bet you don’t get the hangover or any other things that damage your body. Like cancer. The mind makes it seem real, but there’s nothing going into the body.
“What a trip,” I say to the game, to myself, to the strangers dancing in the street.
The energy here is contagious, unlike the real world where everything’s hea
vy. Here, there are no consequences. Not like in real life, anyway.
Curious as to what I look like in the game, I go to the fountain to see my reflection. I stare at it. Squint my eyes at it to see the subtle differences.
Strangely, it resembles what I look like in real life quite a bit. Taller than average, brown hair, normal physique, muscular, as I’ve always worked with my hands.
It looks like me more than I’d like.
I take a deep breathe and take in my surroundings.
Two people kiss at the fountain. A group of teenagers run by, probably up to no good but just looking for a fun time. A couple is walking their dogs. A woman sits in front of an easel and paints the town.
A man holds a knife to a woman’s throat in a back alley. “Stop,” she cries out.
I run towards them. “Hey. Hey, what’s going on?” I shout and step into the narrow corridor, hoping to draw attention to the criminal and rally some other people to help me out.
The tall man stands in front of the woman with his knife tip pointed above her chest, her back pressed against the brick wall. The cloaked man turns to me and points the knife. “You little shit. It’s none of your business.”
“Get away from her, asshole.” I march towards him, fully intent on kicking this guy’s ass. Then I remember it’s a game and I’m about as weak as a nine year old boy. He snarls and comes at me, leaving the girl behind.
Shit.
“You shouldn’t have messed with me,” the man threatens. The knife casts a gleam from the sun overhead, his face a vision of rage.
Here goes nothing.
The cloak of invisibility wraps around me and I see the man stop, frozen mid-step with a dumbfounded look on his face. Before he can gather his senses, I equip my knife and attack him from behind, dealing double damage. As I strike, his health bar pops up and I can see that I barely scratched him.