by Rick Scott
“Did they say what happened to her?” I ask. “How’d she wind up at the hospital?”
Mike blows out a sigh before he replies. “Someone found her passed out down on Level 100. Her lung capacity isn’t what it used to be. She must have overexerted herself.”
“Why would she leave and not tell me?”
I look to Mike for an answer, but he doesn’t seem to have one.
“You need to keep a better eye on her, Ryan.”
“Keep an eye on her?” I scoff. “What is she? A baby?”
“She’s sick, man!” Mike shoots me a harsh glare. “She could have died today.”
I open my mouth to retort, but the reality of his statement trumps anything I could possibly come up with. He’s right. I could have lost my mom today.
The lights flicker for a second, and then suddenly go out.
The elevator bangs to a stop, and we’re left in darkness.
Pitch black darkness.
My heart rate soars as an unexpected terror sets in. “Mike! What just happened?”
“Relax,” he says. And for once, I’m glad to have my big brother with me. “It’s just a load shed.”
“A what?”
“There’s not enough power in the city, so the system shuts down any ‘non-essential’ systems.” He then adds as a not-so-subtle dig: “So people like you can keep playing your stupid games.”
His words get my stomach boiling, and I snap. “It’s not a stupid game, okay! And that’s not what I play it for. I’m trying to earn us money. I’m trying to pay for Mom’s operation. Which is more than I can say for you. What the heck do you do all day?”
I expect a fiery reply, but all I get is a laugh. “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, don’t worry about it. You should worry more about doing something better with your time, besides digging up fake rocks in your fake mine all day.”
I’m actually a bit shocked that he even knows that much about what I do. “Well, those fake rocks earn real money that you use to eat!”
Another condescending laugh comes from him. “Dude, you don’t even know what money really is.”
I feel like punching him. And I probably could have if I had sat closer to him. Landing a shot in the dark is probably the best chance I have at hitting my brother. “Oh, and I suppose you do?”
There’s a pause, and then my brother’s tone changes when he answers. He sounds . . . almost melancholy. “More than I’d like.”
Geez, he can be such a weirdo sometimes.
“The point is, Ryan, there’s other stuff you could be doing. Stuff that earns steady pay, like customer service or programming. You have to realize your limitations. You can’t play those games like other people can. That’s why you’re stuck in the mines. You’re not going to just one day kill some world boss and win a million credits. It’s not possible for you.”
His words stab like a knife in my chest, but only red-hot anger comes flooding out. “Screw you, Mike! You don’t know what’s possible for me or not. I am going to beat a world boss! And I am going to save Mom. I’ll show you! You don’t even know me!”
Dead silence is all I hear.
And then he says: “This city is dying, Ryan, and we’re all asleep. We don’t have time for these games.”
We spend the next twenty minutes in darkness and silence. I sit, pondering over how this freak and I could have come from the same womb. But out of all the messed up stuff Mike has said thus far, the thing that stays lodged in my brain is . . . the truth.
You can’t play those games like other people can.
The words echo in my mind like a prison sentence. It takes me back to my first time logging into Crystal Shards Online and the world of Nasgar. It was about a year ago, when I turned sixteen. I was excited that I could walk normally in-game, and was expecting the same when I rolled a Warrior as my starting class.
I noticed the -10 Agility, but I didn’t think too much about it.
Not until I tried to fight my first mob.
I was in a lowbie area, a lush woodland outside the human starting city of Timberdale. I was decked out in my standard-issue noob gear: a green cotton tunic and blue pants. And a beginner’s practice sword. I can still recall the description on the sword: Practice makes perfect, but at least this sword is dull enough not to hurt you when you mess up!
The devs had a great sense of humor sometimes.
I saw an oversized bumblebee and focused on it to makes its stats appear.
Bee
Level: 1
A busy bee. Take too long to kill it, and you might end up with a nasty sting!
Elemental Affinity: Wind
I ran over to it and engaged my attack. Instantly, I’d gone from feeling free to feeling like I needed Mutt and Jeff again. My world slowed, and I felt like I was pushing through sand. The wooden sword in my hand felt like was suddenly made of lead. The bee hit me.
-2 HP
Then it hit me again.
-2 HP
My HP bar read 16/20 HP and I still hadn’t attacked yet.
I remember thinking, What the heck?
-2 HP
I’d strained with all my might, my brain sending all the right signals, but my body just wouldn’t comply.
Just like in real life.
-2 HP
I strained some more and was finally able to make a swing.
You miss the bee.
-2 HP
-4 HP Critical Hit!
My HP bar turned red and flashed: 4/20 HP
-2 HP
Bee uses sting.
-8 HP
You are defeated.
What?!
I spent the rest of the night dying to Level 1 mobs, trying to get a different result. I even tried a mage class, but the same thing happened when I tried to cast a spell. I called tech support and got the bad news that the problem was on my end. They suggested I try a non-combat class, or a different Shard altogether, one that didn’t rely on neural synchronization for dynamic interaction. Which was just a fancy way of saying that their system wasn’t optimized for the neurologically impaired.
I was crushed and defeated, and I broke down in tears. The thing I’d waited so long to experience, had so wanted to enjoy, I couldn’t. That’s the same way I feel now.
I have one of the most coveted items in the game.
I have a Scroll of Shadow Copy.
And I can’t use it.
Because I’m a gimp.
Chapter 9: Reality Bites
After a half-hour delay, my brother and I exit the elevator and enter the main hub. The air down here stinks, and the lighting sucks, but I think it’s meant to be that way. It looks like a city in perpetual night. Glowing holograms for seedy bars—and other activities you can’t readily achieve without bodily or chemical interaction—line the streets. They stretch between tall buildings that reach into the darkened sky, and then disappear into nothing. It’s almost hard to believe that machines built all this. Though no one’s actually seen a Builder for over a hundred years, or so they say.
The stink comes from people. The homeless variety. They swarm us as we exit the elevator car, old men and women in clothes that smell like urine and feces. They hold disposable credit chips in their dirty hands, begging us to fill them. My neural plug would allow me to connect to the chips and download my credits to them—it’d be as easy as swiping my finger—but I don’t.
There are too many of them, and we don’t have the credits to spare.
Mike pushes through the pack, something he looks extremely comfortable doing and I follow him as best I can with my crutches. He actually waits for me this time, and shields me from the beggars as we head further into the neon-lit city.
A chill runs through me as we leave the vagrants behind.
That could be us at any moment.
There are no landlords in the habitats. If you fail to pay your rent on tim
e, the services simply stop working. No power, no water, no food. No air. You eventually have to leave, or suffocate. They’ll even pump in a bit of C02 if you need extra encouragement to vacate the premises. Once empty, the hatch would then seal and await access from a new tenant who could pay the rent. More times than not, people just died in there.
That’s when an actual person from the municipality would show up—it’s one of the few jobs that still needs to be done in the real world. They collect the bodies and take them down to the vats for recycling. I don’t like to think about that, though. It’s the place we’ll all end up one day. And my mom could be there sooner than I’d like, if I don’t do something about it.
As we pass an alleyway, I smell food—grilled meat. I give a glance down the narrow passageway and see a trash barrel set on fire with some kind of animal skewered on metal rods hanging over it. I can’t identify what kind of animal it is—maybe a cat, or a very large rat.
Either possibility turns my stomach.
We press on through the crowds, passing prostitutes, drug dealers, and addicts. The thought of my mom falling unconscious down here has me freaking out. I bump into some guy in his fifties, and he pushes me back so hard I fall to the ground, my crutches clattering beside me.
“Watch it, gimp!”
“Hey!” Mike is on him in an instant, punching the guy in the head. “Don’t you touch my brother!”
The guy flails with the hit, but then swings back around with a knife in his hand. “Argh! You little punk!”
My heart’s in my throat. “Mike!”
I needn’t have worried. Mike lands a downward kick to the old guy’s waist that stomps him right into the ground. Mike then stands over him, brandishing his closed fists like weapons.
“Beat it, old man,” Mike says coolly. “Or I’ll send you to the vats.”
Mike’s words scare me just as much as they do the guy. He scrambles off the grimy street and disappears into the crowd. Mike reaches down to help me up. “Let’s go.”
For the second time today, I’m glad I’m with my big brother.
And that he’s on my side.
Where and when did he learn to fight like that?
We travel another block or so and finally reach the hospital.
It’s more like a clinic, really, and is about the size of a small diner. I can see through the bar-covered windows that it’s brightly lit inside, with white-tiled floors and shiny, sterile-looking equipment. I expected the place to be crammed full of people, with a huge waiting line outside, but there’s no one to be seen. I understand why when we approach the doors.
The door beeps and demands an entry fee of 5 credits each.
Guess there’s no such thing as free access to healthcare down here—literally.
We pay the amount, and when I check our account balance, my heart nearly stops.
Your balance is ….. 187 Cr
What the heck? Where is all our money?!
I’m in full panic mode as we walk inside. A middle-aged nurse dressed in green scrubs greets us from behind a desk. “Do you need assistance?”
She says it in a way that translates into: “please don’t say yes.”
“We’re just here to collect our mother,” Mike says. We walk past the nurse to see my mom reclined in one of the self-service auto-med booths, dozing. The auto-med booths normally stand upright, but hers is tilted at a 45-degree angle. The double transparent doors are shut, and there seems to be some kind of mist in there. Her eyes look droopy when she sees us, but she gives us a smile.
“Look at my two boys, all grown up.” Her voice comes out through a tiny speaker on the outside of the booth. “I wish your dad could see you both.”
Her statement opens another deep wound in my soul. One that I haven’t quite dealt with yet. I was too young when he died to remember my dad, and my mom’s never really told me what happened. Other than that he was at work.
“Why’d you go out on your own, Mom?” Mike lays into her first. “You need to take Ryan with you if you’re going to leave the house. And you shouldn’t be coming this far down. What are you doing down here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sarcastically. “Are you the parent now?”
She chuckles as Mike gives an exasperated sigh.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I ask. “What happened?”
She waves a hand toward the interface at the side of the booth. “Look for yourself.”
I wave through the holographic screen to see that she’s being treated for fluid buildup in her lungs. The service is set to last for another 45 minutes, and our account has already been charged.
1000 credits?
I guess that answers that. There’s no question of where our money went now.
I feel angry for a second. How could she have been so irresponsible? I’m about to say something, but hold it back instead. Now is not the time to complain about money. Not when it just saved my mom’s life. The thought gets me checking through the rest of her diagnosis and treatment options.
Detected: Stage IV Bronchogenic Carcinoma
Treatment options:
Nano-surgical reconstruction3,575,000.00 Cr
Cloned Lung Transplant 1,850,000.00 Cr (2 month Delivery)
Prosthetic Lung Transplant 525,000.00 Cr
Donor Lung Transplant 57,000.00 Cr (12 to 24 month Delivery)
I focus on option number three, and then the paltry 187 credits in our account. It’s got a 50/50 shot at survival, at best, but it’s still the best option we’ve got. And we have no way to afford it. An abyss of despair opens up inside me. I feel like crying, and probably would have if my mom and Mike weren’t here.
“Sweetie,” my mom says to me. “Mike and I need to talk. Do you mind?”
I nearly glare at both of them. Pulling the adult card on me again?
“Fine,” I say curtly and hobble off to one of the medi-booths at the far end of the clinic, well out of earshot. I can still see them, though, and I wonder what it is they discuss. Could it be about me? Mom’s condition? Finances?
The last thought has me checking our bank account again.
187 credits.
If only I could use that darn scroll. Defeating something even half as tough as Gruzug would probably land me 50k a kill. And I’d be able to do it solo. I wouldn’t have to split it with anyone. I could save our whole family in a month.
I have to find a way.
I look to the booth. I’ve never actually checked to see how much it would cost to cure my condition. But I know it’s possible. I take another quick peek toward Mom and Mike to make sure they’re not looking, and then slip into the booth.
“Diagnose,” I say.
The system scans me and comes back with:
Detected: Mild Paraplegia (legs)
Treatment options:
Nano-surgical reconstruction575,000.00 Cr
What the heck?
Only one option? And the price is even more than my mom’s artificial lung!
Just like that, my dreams are shattered in a harsh punch of reality.
I had hoped that maybe there would have been a cheap option. Like an implant, or something for around 10k. Something I could bust my butt mining for and pay off once I achieved the dream. But 575k? No way. If I had that much money, I could pay for my mom’s operation outright.
I feel sick to my stomach.
I find myself longing for my rig and the comfort of my virtual world.
Even though I know it can’t solve any of my problems now.
Mike was right.
It is just a stupid game.
* * *
We leave the clinic as a family and take the elevator back up to L32C. I’m not in a talkative mood. No one else seems to be, either. We get home and spend 15 credits on a meal of mushy gray slop.
After that, I say goodnight and retreat to the cramped confines of my bedroom.
Alone, I ponder what I can do next.
I need to get real, like Mike sai
d. Quit the game and find a real job.
The uneasiness in my system edges me toward putting on my rig, toward the escape from reality it will bring. Before I know it, I’m donning it, and a soothing dose of endorphins washes through my system as the menu screen opens.
But there’s a hollowness to it now; the mirage of possibilities and opportunities has been dissipated by the realities of my own limitations.
And by reality in general.
I sigh and wonder if Gilly is still online.
I check and see that she isn’t, but I do see a couple of messages from her.
From: Gilly
Yo, Reece! Where did you go? You’re just standing here doing nothing.
From: Gilly
Oh, well, I guess you got disconnected or something. ): I had to leave to cash in my ores. Message me when you get back! We’ve got to talk about this Shadow Copy thing!! : D
You’re going to be a Dodge Tank baby!!!
From: Gilly
I’ve got to log off now, but I’m going to do some research for you. I’m going to figure out what you need to do to become a Ninja! ^_^
See you tomorrow! : D
-Gilly
Suddenly, I feel angry and disgusted. Become a Ninja? How stupid does that sound? Plus, Gilly doesn’t have problems like me. She wouldn’t understand. I haven’t even told her about my condition. She thinks I like to mine like her, that it’s by choice. But what would telling her the truth even matter anyway? Even if she knew, it’s not like there’s anything she or I could do about it.
I open the messenger and type her back, furious.
To: Gilly
Don’t bother. I’m not using the scroll. In fact, I think I’m going to take a break from the game for a while. Bye.