“We have a very serious mathematical model,” Ola said kindly. It was the kind of tone a teacher used when explaining hard truths to a disenchanted schoolchild. “The accuracy of the prediction is nearly one hundred percent. The citizenship category system introduced by the world government is something we developed. It isn’t perfect, but without it, the planet would have been plunged into nuclear winter three years ago. The Disgardium project is the next stage of a plan that pursues one single goal: to prevent irreversible global catastrophe.”
“Did I hear you correctly? A computer game is humanity’s only chance of survival?”
“Precisely, Octie!” Manuel answered sharply. “And it’s no game, it’s a full-immersion world.”
“Some numbers,” Ola interjected smoothly. Octius began to get the impression that this group had all their roles worked out and had already said all this dozens of times to all kinds of people. “A third of the population of the planet are non-citizens. Thanks to the complete robotization of production and services, unemployment among citizens will soon exceed 40%. Where will those people go after they lose their citizenship status? Six to seven billion people will be on the garbage heap of society, alongside their dreams. Do you think they’ll just accept that?”
“Why wouldn’t they celebrate being fed and housed?” Octius answered, but it was clear by the reaction from the others that he was mistaken, and he faltered. The people he spoke to now clearly did not share the prevailing feeling of the citizenry, which at that time believed that non-citizens had it quite good, sponging off the taxpayer. “Is that not so? They’re no good to anyone, they’re like parasites. Take them away, send them to some other planet and we’ll have more space here!”
“They’re people, Octi,” Mike answered gently. “Not everyone wins the genetic lottery. Some have birth defects, some have insufficient intellectual capability or low attractiveness, but is that really their fault?”
“But you must admit, things would be easier without them!” Octius insisted. “They don’t pay taxes, they don’t provide value, they’re always demanding things! Complaining that they don’t have enough!”
“They really don’t have enough, especially after the Citizenship Territories Forced Resettlement act was introduced,” Iovana shook her head. “How many hospitals and schools are there in any given non-citizen district? What food is available to them, apart from UNBs? Sure, some non-citizens really are the rejects of society. Criminals, indigents, welfare parasites. Sure. But who can say with total certainty that their children won’t be the next Ola Afelobi? You know, if Ola had been born in our time, he would be living in the Cameroon Cloaca! And then, the best humanity had to offer might still be racking their brains over the unsolved Millennium Prize Problems!”
“I would be sitting in Cali Bottom,” Manuel added.
“And I’d be in the Kemerovo Zone,” Vyacheslav nodded. “My parents were alcoholics. There’s no way I’d have a chance nowadays.”
“Non-citizens have the right to take citizenship tests!” Octius argued. “You and your outstanding minds would surely have made it to polite society!”
“How?” Mike spread his hands. “The mind requires training, knowledge, tutors.”
“The internet does not limit the studying materials available to non-citizens,” Octius continued to argue. “Anyone with the desire can find a way out!”
“The environment forms the man,” Ola answered with the same calmness. “If you are surrounded by angry, uncultured people from birth, then what are the chances that you will be any different? One in a million!”
“Let us return to the subject at hand,” Mike suggested. “The Disgardium project will help non-citizens. It will operate like a social elevator, but its main task is to avert an apocalypse for humanity. A full-immersion world will dramatically reduce social tension and has a high probability of saving mankind.”
“I don’t understand…” Octius said, scratching his beard.
He hadn’t been offered a drink, and he really could have used a glass of something strong! These people didn’t look like extremists. Their speech contained no passion, just cold decision. Knowledge, it suddenly hit Octius. It was like they saw the future, saw the world steaming toward the abyss. They were trying to convince the engineer to stop the train, and he was stubbornly throwing on more coal. Those ancient trains were fueled with coal, right? Octius wasn’t too big on history.
“In the year 2066, mass disturbances will break out in the largest cities of Europe and North America,” Iovana said. “Radical elements will gain access to biological and nuclear weaponry. The authorities will respond with precision strikes from satellites, which will cause a fresh wave of disturbances that will engulf the entire world. By the end of the century, fewer than a hundred million people will remain, scattered across the globe. Strengthened religious cults will drive the remainder of humanity into the gloom of ignorance, destroying our cultural heritage. Another hundred years and the last remaining products of our technological achievements will fall into disrepair, and humans will finally forget their former magnificence. Humanity’s next war will be fought with sword, bow and arrow.”
“And all this can be prevented if you just launch your project?”
“Just launching Disgardium won’t be enough, no,” Mike answered. “People must begin to live in it.”
“And what do you need me for?”
“For the most important project within Disgardium,” Iovana answered. “We need you to present the Demonic Games.”
“Why me? And what the hell are the Demonic Games?”
“Because you, Guy Barron Octius, are the perfect candidate,” the woman said. “As for what the Games are, that we will explain to you. The main thing you need to know now is that the time will come when the champions of the Demonic Games will determine the…”
“Iovana!” Mike interrupted the woman, scowling.
All this seemed unreal to Octius, as if he’d found his way into a psychiatric hospital or some science-fiction movie. But at the same time a mystery beckoned from behind this blurry glass, alluring and exciting.
The founders of Snowstorm exchanged glances. Iovana turned to Mike:
“He fits. I have calculated the probabilities.”
“He is not ready,” Mike said, shaking his head and looking back at Octius: “Octi, you will learn all in due time…”
Sixteen months later, not long before Disgardium’s official launch, Iovana Savic’s body was found in a Snowstorm laboratory. The official cause of death was never revealed.
By the tenth anniversary of Disgardium’s release, Manuel Fuentes departed this world. They say he died of old age.
Vyacheslav Zaitsev, who had been actively involved in charity work and personally rendering humanitarian aid in Africa, was one of the first to fall victim to the Doom virus. He rotted away in mere hours.
Ola Afelobi went missing in space in the early seventies.
Of all the founding fathers, only one remained alive. Mike Anderson. And he was the only one left who Guy allowed to address him as he had introduced himself that day: Octi.
* * *
Twenty two years after that memorable introduction, Guy Barron Octius was hosting the nineteenth Demonic Games. As the fourth day came to an end, he received startling news: Alex Sheppard was to be disqualified.
Immediately afterwards, Kiran called and summoned Octius to an urgent meeting. The decision on Sheppard had already been made, but the head of Snowstorm still had to correctly convey this news to the public, and they couldn’t do that without Octius.
There were already four gathered in Kiran Jackson’s temporary office, where the conference was taking place. At the head of the table sat the office’s owner, with Community and Connections director Chloe Cliffhanger sitting to his right and security officer Donald Garfield to his left. At the other end of the table, her eyes downcast and her hands on her knees, sat Chloe’s department worker Kerry Hunter. Octius sat down betwee
n them.
Specially for him, Hunter repeated the story of Sheppard’s request to contact his friends in order to obtain — this part was important! — in-game information. The girl had already been fired, but, if she cooperated, Kiran had promised her another position.
“By the way, Kerry, did you give Sheppard the data he wanted?” Donald inquired.
“How could I have?” The girl’s eyes widened. “He’s in his capsule!”
“Will you allow us to check your comm?” Donald asked. Kerry reached for her pocket, but the security officer shook his head. “No, not that one. Your personal comm!”
Nodding, the girl unlocked the device, removed it from her wrist and passed it across the table to Donald. The impervious security officer tapped on the screen.
“Nobody likes cheaters,” Chloe said, speaking to the air. “The public will accept our decision. But…”
“What?” Kiran asked.
“The information Sheppard requested, that’s what bothers me. The viewers have seen contestants send coded messages through streams and forums before. That’s okay, within the rules… well, at least the informal rules of the Games. Remember when Mogwai got a leave of absence for his mother’s birthday? The viewers supported him, voted to let him go.”
“I remember,” Guy said. “The next day Mogwai knocked Carmichael out of the Games, his single strongest competitor, by taking advantage of a weakness that only viewers of Carmichael’s stream knew about… A strange coincidence, no?”
“Stop it,” Chloe grimaced. “Fen Xiaoguang is a good analyst. He studied Carmichael.”
Kiran, who had been watching them with a frown, shot some Accelerant into his mouth, sneezed and drummed his fingers on the table.
“Alright, it’s decided!” he said, livening up. “Donald!”
“Yes, Kiran?”
“You will meet Sheppard at his capsule. Tell him Hunter has been fired, and you’re his assistant now.”
“Me?”
“Well, I can’t do it! Don’t worry, it’s not for long. You’ll accompany him at dinner, and there Guy will explain everything. And you, Hunter, don’t even so much as stick your nose out of your room! If I find out you contacted Sheppard, then my offer will be off the table.”
“Understood, Mr. Jackson. Thank you, Mr. Jackson!”
“Chloe… You prepare the media. All this must be delivered from the proper perspective, understand? Not like the Disgardium Daily after the second day of the Games!”
“That’s my job, Kiran. I’ve spoken to Mr. Katz, reminded him who pays for his publication. Can’t say he was overflowing with joy, but he agreed to follow our recommendations and not do it again.”
“And what about that… what was his name..?”
“The disgraced one?” Chloe said. “Ian Mitchell. He had an unfortunate incident. He had a brain hemorrhage while in his capsule. The medbots arrived in time to save him, but the bleed was extensive. Mr. Mitchell will have to spend some time in the hospital.”
Octius glanced sidelong at Donald. His work? The security officer didn’t so much as twitch an eyelid, just kept studying Hunter’s personal comm.
“Alright,” Kiran nodded. “Guy, will you read a press release, or say it in your own words?”
“Are you sure about this, Kiran?” Guy answered. “Your decision is final?”
“It is. What, do you have doubts?”
“I do. This will explode online. Chloe’s right, the ratings will go sky high, but only today. Tomorrow we’ll lose a large part of our audience, those who never used to watch the Games and joined the streams only thanks to the top Threat.”
“This is not subject to debate, Guy!” Kiran said sharply. “I accept that risk, and will answer to our shareholders personally if I have to.”
“Shame Renato Loyola gave in to weakness…” Chloe sighed. “If it weren’t for that shield, Sheppard would be home by now. Why the moronic nobility?”
“He explained it himself. The plan was dishonorable,” Octius said.
Just then, Donald finished his inspection of Kerry’s communicator. Returning it to its owner, he looked at Kiran and shook his head:
“Nothing. Maybe we should put on a show? Let Hunter meet Sheppard by the capsule and give him his friends’ answer in sight of everyone. Hunter, what was it they told you to pass on to him again?”
“Uhm…” Kerry looked up, remembering. “Some code phrase. It was like: ‘The greens have a divine for jewelworking. Kusie ready to split for three. Plus two to current craft rank, need two thousand perception. Venus is ready.’”
“The greens must be the goblins,” Donald guessed. “Divine must mean an artifact. Kusie… Kusalarix?”
“Yes,” Kiran agreed. “One of the leaders of the Green League. Sheppard is in cahoots with the mafia. But ‘for three’? Three million? Cheap for such an artifact. And what’s Venus got to do with it, what’s she ready for?”
“Maybe a pseudonym of one of Sheppard’s allies,” Chloe suggested.
“Or enemies,” Kiran said. “Go through all his contacts both in Dis and real life. Look for living NPCs in the database. Maybe it’s one of Scyth’s mobster friends from the Green League. Hunter, are you sure of every word?”
“Not entirely, Mr. Jackson,” Kerry answered guiltily. “The connection was through a proxy comm, there was interference.”
“I know what it means!” Chloe said, sitting up suddenly. “The Venus statue with the missing arm! The divine artifact that gives a quest to restore the sculpture! Could Scyth have found it?”
“Perhaps so…” Kiran muttered. “Could Sheppard really have decided to take over the sex market? With Venus protecting him… No, something doesn’t add up here! Why would he do that? I mean, it’s obvious why, but why so urgently? He knew what he was risking…”
“I have another explanation!” Donald butted in. “Remember Sheppard’s first girlfriend? Eve o’Sullivan? The neighbor girl he spent a year and a half with in the sandbox, sitting on the bench outside the tavern?”
“Well?” Kiran murmured. “So what?”
“Her in-game nick was Aphrodite, the Greek name for the Roman goddess Venus!” Donald said, leaning forward. “I’ve been studying Alex’s profile…”
There was a dull knock from behind, but Octius was looking at Donald.
“Dig!” the director ordered. “Let Hunter put on a show and convey the message. Do you hear me, Hunter? What’s up with her?”
Kiran’s eyes widened. Octius turned and gasped: the girl was face-down on the table, her head on her arm, blood flowing from her nose.
“Mr. Jackson’s office!” Chloe shouted into her communicator. “Send an autodoc! Now!”
Donald jumped up and put a finger to the girl’s neck.
“There’s a pulse, but only just.”
“Get her cleaned up and send her to Sheppard!” Kiran ordered.
“The game day ends in half an hour!” Chloe pointed out. “If she doesn’t wake up, we’ll have to follow our initial plan…”
“Whatever. Do as we decided.” The initial wave of adrenaline from the Accelerant had passed, and Kiran was now on the come-down: he relaxed, closing his eyes and sitting back in his chair. “Donald, you will be nanny to Sheppard. Send Hunter somewhere far away. Chloe, prepare the media for a sensation. Octius… Well, you know what to do. You’re all dismissed.”
The medbot arrived and started treating the unconscious Kerry. Although only after carrying her out to the corridor — Kiran wanted to be left in peace. Chloe sped off to the media center and Donald went to get changed and get himself a new holo badge as assistant to Alex Sheppard.
Ten minutes later, when Octius was leaving the immersion level to go down to the media center, Otto Hinterleaf called him:
“I value your time, Guy, I’ll be brief. What’s the situation with my kid?”
“Sheppard? Disqualified for outside contact, Otto.”
“I see…” Hinterleaf sighed heavily. “Proven?”
“Yes, recorded on an assistant’s badge. The recording is not for the public, but it’s a serious violation, so we’ll show the video.”
“What can be done?”
“Nothing. Kiran made the decision, he won’t be dissuaded.”
“The viewers’ vote…”
“Won’t help.”
“Got it. Thanks, old friend.”
Hinterleaf hung up. Octius thought about how quickly things changed: a couple of weeks ago both Hinterleaf and Scyth were sworn enemies, and now the old man was calling in concern his ally. Too late, the horse already bolted! If Modus’s people had helped Scyth on day one, who knew what they might have achieved together?
The Demonic Games (Disgardium Book #7): LitRPG Series Page 22