by Rachel Ford
“That is a great question, Jack.”
“For you,” he reminded the other man. “Since you’re the doctor…”
Roberts didn’t respond to that. He said nothing at all for a bit. Then Jack heard the clacking of a keyboard. “Just getting logged in. Hang tight.”
Jack rolled his eyes. What else was he going to do?
Then, Roberts barked out a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s kind of redundant. Not like you’re going anywhere.”
“Very funny,” Jack said as the other man’s laughter subsided. “Your sense of humor is almost as good as your bedside manner.”
“Come now, Owens, you know what they say: laughter is the best medicine.”
He groaned. “You know who isn’t supposed to say that? Doctors.”
Roberts laughed again and went back to typing. “Now, Richard, I want to know exactly what happened.”
“Nothing,” the Migli avatar answered. “I was just sitting here –”
“Doing what?”
“Uh…” Richard hesitated. “Working.”
“How?”
The dwarf blinked and rolled his shoulders in a half shrug. “Going through my emails?”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“Telling. At least, I think that’s what I was doing.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. I don’t remember exactly. I might have been going through the website bugs log. Or…I’m sorry, Doc. I guess I don’t remember. I think it was emails, though.”
Roberts groaned. “Work emails? Or on your phone?”
“Work,” Richard said, with so much haste that Jack felt sure he was lying. “Of course.”
Roberts didn’t sound much more convinced. He harrumphed. “So you might have missed the sensors when they started going off, because you weren’t paying attention?”
But Richard shook his head, so adamantly that Migli’s beard wagged back and forth. “No. No, they’re loud. I heard them immediately. I know that for a fact.”
“Hmm. So, what happened?”
Richard shrugged again. “I mean, I don’t know, Dr. Roberts. Like, one minute, I was sitting there, and the next everything was blaring.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“So every single one of these alarms was going off? You’d swear to that?”
“Yes. I mean, I think it was all of them. It sounded like all of them.”
Jack groaned. Richard wasn’t much worse than the average eyewitness, he figured. He’d read an article on that once. The already fallible human memory only got worse and less reliable in a stressful situation. And knowing that Jack was about to die – or, in Richard’s case, that his internship was in danger – would definitely qualify as stressful.
Still, if Roberts needed any of these details to figure out what had happened…well, Jack was up a certain creek without a paddle, so to speak.
Roberts growled something under his breath, then asked, “Was the heart rate alarm going?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“Definitely. Ninety-nine-point-five, anyway.”
“What?”
“Ninety-nine-point-five percent positive.”
“So you don’t know for sure?”
“No. I mean, yes. Like, almost sure. But – it just happened so fast, you know? It definitely went off. But – it might not have been right away.”
Roberts said nothing for a long moment. Then, he asked in a strained tone, “Is there going to be any point to ask you about each one of these individually?”
Migli shook his head miserably. “I’m sorry, Doc. I just – I heard them all going off, and just started paging you. You know?”
“Shouldn’t the log tell you?” Jack asked. Wasn’t that exactly the kind of thing a log was for, after all?
Migli’s expression brightened. “That’s right: we can check the log.”
“Thank you, Mister Owens, for telling me how to do my job. But we’re approaching this from the assumption that we ran into a glitch. So I don’t want to make assumptions about the quality of the log data.
“Of course, if you’re comfortable with that risk, well, I won’t object. It’s your life, and your call.”
Jack stood down at that, and left Roberts to berate the intern for a space. Then, when his penchant for abuse had been sated, the doctor turned to Jack. “And what were you doing when this all happened?”
“Me?”
“Who else?”
Jack thought back to where he’d been when Migli materialized beside him. “Well, I was laying down.”
“Sleeping?”
“No. I’d…” Jack broke off, recalling the sequence of events: the intense pain, the fogginess in his thoughts, the way everything felt so real – so terrible.
Roberts, meanwhile, sighed. “Look, Mr. Owens, it’s a virtual reality system. We’re not imbeciles. We anticipate people will engage in – adult recreations. So whatever – whoever – it was, just spit it out.” Jack blinked, not quite following. Roberts added, a hint of disgust in his tone, “It wasn’t the dwarf, was it?”
Now, taking the other man’s meaning, Jack physically recoiled. So did Richard, who blanched at the suggestion. “Good God, no. I wasn’t – well, that.
“We’d just fought a bunch of birds. Raptors.”
“Oh.” Roberts didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Then why the reluctance to tell me?”
“It wasn’t reluctance. I – I think the sensors might have something to do with the fight. More specifically, with the damage I took.” Here, he explained in detail everything that had happened.
Roberts’s remarks and queries began skeptically, but they quickly grew more concerned, and less frequent. In the end, he’d gone completely silent, and remained so for a good ten seconds after Jack wrapped up. Finally, he said, “Huh.”
“Is that a…good ‘huh’ or a bad ‘huh’?”
“Well, I don’t want to make any snap judgments, of course.”
Jack groaned. Even if the other man did refuse to give him a straight answer – that really was an answer in its own way, wasn’t it? “I’m going to die.”
“Now, I didn’t say that, Mr. Owens. Nothing we’ve seen –”
“I’m going to die.”
“There’s really no cause –”
“I’m going to end up like William Xi.”
“To…” Roberts went quiet abruptly, and Jack realized what he’d said.
Jordan had dug up William’s name in secret, without her bosses’ knowledge – or permission. She could – would – be in deep trouble if they realized how he’d figured that out. Shit.
“Who did you say?” Roberts’s voice sounded cold as ice.
“What?” he asked, with a nervous half chuckle.
“You mentioned a name.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You did. I heard you.”
“William somebody,” Richard – or, Judas Iscariot, as Jack thought of him in the moment – offered.
He scowled at Migli, who recoiled at the ferocity of his expression. Roberts went on. “That’s right: you said you were going to end up like a William somebody.”
Jack laughed nervously. “Oh no. I said – I think I said, ‘Like William should be.’ You know, William the Wanderer?” He gestured vaguely behind himself. “The cutthroat?”
“What does he have to do with anything?”
“He…he should be dead. I’m going to wind up how he should be. You know?”
Richard frowned at him, and great furrows formed on the dwarf’s forehead. But – mercifully – he shut his mouth this time.
Roberts said nothing for a long moment. Then, he said, “Well, that’s very random, Mr. Owens. But let’s stick to the problem at hand, shall we, and not wild hyperbole?”
Jack agreed, maybe a little hastily. But he wanted to change the topic, as soon as possible. He couldn’t say for sure if the doctor bought his story. It was
hard to tell since he couldn’t see the other man’s face, or even an avatar that might reflect his expressions the way Migli reflected Richard’s. But he figured it sounded plausible. Or, plausible-ish. So better to leave it on plausible-ish and move on as quickly as he could.
“We’re going to need to run some more tests,” Roberts decided.
Jack groaned. “Not again.”
“Last time we focused on physical stimuli and your physical body. This time, we’re going to be focusing on your avatar.”
“Oh,” Jack said. “That’s better.” Then, he frowned. “Except…I’m feeling pain when my avatar takes damage now.”
“Yes. That’s the first thing I want to confirm.”
“What do you mean, ‘confirm’? I just confirmed it for you: I felt pain when I took damage.”
“Subject reported data is not the same caliber data as actual observation.”
“How can your ‘observation’ of me being in pain possibly be more accurate than me telling you that I was in pain?”
“Mr. Owens, I understand that you’re anxious and upset. But in order to do my job, I need you to cooperate. If you can’t do that…”
Jack scowled at the implied threat of inaction, just hanging between them. “I’m ‘cooperating,’ Roberts.”
“Good. Then, in that case…Richard, I see you are controlling the Migli avatar?”
“That’s right.”
“Good. This is going to require some intervention on your part as well.”
Migli’s blocky head bobbed in a brisk nod. “Whatever you need, Dr. Roberts.”
“You ready, Owens?”
“Uh…sure. For what?”
But Roberts didn’t address Jack. Instead he said to Richard, “We’re going to measure the consequence of impactful force to target locales on the subject’s avatar.”
Migli blinked. “Uh…right.”
“That means,” Roberts said, a little acidly, “you need to hit him.”
Migli blinked again. “Hit…Jack?”
“Who else, Richard?”
“Oh. But…uh…well, Dr. Roberts, if he’s feeling pain, wouldn’t hitting him…hurt him?”
Roberts sighed, a long, drawn out lungful of air into the microphone. “How else are we going to measure pain if we don’t inflict pain on him?”
“Wait, this crap again?” Jack asked. “You already did this, Roberts.”
“No. Last time, you didn’t register pain until we applied stimuli to your physical body. You say you’re now feeling pain through your avatar. Well, demonstrate it.”
Richard glanced nervously at Jack. “I don’t…I mean…I’m not sure…”
“Are you telling me you’re incapable of doing your job, Richard? Are you saying I need to replace you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Good. Then hit Jack.”
Richard gulped, loudly. “I…Sir, I…”
“Just do it,” Jack said. “It’s okay. It won’t be any worse than what he did the first time.” He didn’t want to get smacked around, obviously. But the sooner this was done, and the sooner Roberts saw him register damage for himself, well, the sooner they could work on a solution.
Richard blinked again, then nodded. And then Migli advanced, cringing a little as he did so. He stopped a foot in front of Jack and raised a broad hand. Then the dwarf scrunched his eyes shut and smacked him.
It wasn’t a hard hit, but Jack felt it anyway – a light, stinging blow. “See? I felt that.”
Roberts sighed. “How could I possibly see, Mr. Owens? You didn’t register any hit point loss. And Richard, you’re supposed to be hitting him. Not playing pattycakes. Hit him again. Hard, this time.”
Richard glanced at Jack for confirmation, which he got via a nod. So, pressing his eyes closed again, the intern struck a second time. This was a harder hit, straight to the head; and Jack’s avatar registered a drop of two hit points. “Ow. Cheese and rice, that hurt.”
“Sorry, dude.”
Roberts loosed a quiet, disgusted breath. “I do see you lost two hit points. But I’m not seeing…oh, wait. Hmm.”
“‘Hmm’ what?”
“I do see a little spike in the tertiary panels.”
“Tertiary panels? What are those?”
“Some of the non-vital sensors. Monitoring your stress hormone levels.”
“Because I registered damage,” Jack said, nodding. “See? Jordan was right. My brain is acting like damage to my avatar is real damage.”
The doctor made a noncommittal sound. “Maybe. But we do expect slight elevation of stress hormones in simulated scenarios.
“Hit him again, Richard. With a fist, this time.”
Chapter Eleven
They progressed from fists to Migli’s axe. Richard tapped him with the blade the first time. But after being berated by Roberts, the intern stepped up his game. Jack felt agony like he’d never known as the axe blade cut into his side.
Digital blood ran from his avatar, but the pain was very real. Jack collapsed to his knees and puked. He couldn’t see, or feel anything but absolute agony. He started to shake and tremble. He barely heard Roberts’s voice. “Again, Richard.”
“Again? Are you – are you sure?”
“Again, dammit.”
The third strike put him down, face first in the dust and vomit and blood.
“Interesting. I wonder – yes. Let’s see what happens with another hit. Really hard, this time.”
Jack tried to protest that he couldn’t take another hit. His hitpoints hovered at critical levels. But he wasn’t worried about his in-game health. He knew on an instinctual level that he couldn’t take another hit. He wouldn’t survive it. But his words came out jumbled and slurred.
The dwarf physically recoiled, though. “He’s – he’s going to die if we do that, Dr. Roberts.”
“You’re the intern, Richard. Not a doctor. I’m telling you to hit him again. As hard as you can.”
“Can I at least – I don’t know. Use a healing potion first? I really don’t think –”
“Goddammit, Richard, do you want to keep your job or not? We need to fix this. Hit him again, or so help me –”
Jack tried to call up a healing spell. His brain felt useless, though. He couldn’t make it work. He couldn’t concentrate. All he knew was that he was about to die – that if Richard took that fourth swing, he wouldn’t make it out alive.
“No. I-I can’t. I’m sorry. I won’t help you kill him. And that’s what you’re going to do, Dr. Roberts. Look at his vitals – they’re off the charts. He’s about to go into cardiac arrest. You are literally killing him.”
Something about the panic in the other man’s voice gave Jack the strength he needed. Maybe it was the urgency of his situation – the idea that if he didn’t act now, he might not be able to soon. He willed the healing spell into his thoughts, and cast it: once, then twice as his head started to clear, and then a third time. Relief washed over him, and his thoughts cleared a little. He staggered to his feet, demanding, “What the fluff are you trying to do, Roberts?”
“My job, obviously. And this fool –”
“Really? Because it seems like maybe you’re trying to clean up Marshfield Studio’s mess here. Like maybe killing me is easier than fixing this. Or maybe, that’s your way of shutting me up. Is that it, Roberts?”
Roberts laughed, a little nervously. “My God, you’re hysterical. Do you hear yourself? Why would I want to kill you?”
“Because if I’m gone, I’m not a problem anymore, right?”
“That is categorically false, and absolutely ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Jack was practically screaming now. He shook with rage. The smell of blood and vomit filled his nostrils. “Because that’s what it looks like to me.
“And Richard – you’re my witness: anything happens to me, anything at all, you go straight to the cops. You understand?”
“My God,” the other man said again. “Jack, you need to c
alm down. No one is trying to kill you.”
He laughed this time, long and bitterly.
Roberts went on. “And I would remind Richard that he is bound under a nondisclosure agreement. As we all are.”
“That doesn’t cover murder.”
The other man groaned. “No one is trying to murder you.”
“You almost killed me. You almost made Richard kill me, I should say.”
“I didn’t…for pity’s sake, I told you before: we need test data.”
“And if I had a heart attack?”
“You weren’t going to have a heart attack.”
“I guess that would have just been an unfortunate coincidence – one that just happens to work out for your company.
“No risk of ugly PR, no risk of me going to the papers. Right? Just a ‘testing accident’ that you can sweep under the rug.” Then, he squared his shoulders, and decided to take a risk. “Like you’ve done before.”
Migli frowned at that, and Roberts said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. “Jack, clearly this is having a toll on you. I apologize: I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. I should have anticipated the psychological impact.”
“‘Psychological impact’ my tooshie.”
“This is a terrifying situation. There’s bound to be – well, heightened feelings attendant to that.”
“Yeah, almost being murdered will do that.”
“Oh Jack…” He sighed again. “Okay, I believe we have enough data. We will wrap up our testing here. I’m going to keep working on this until I figure out a way to help you.
“In the meantime – well, I would advise caution in your play style. If you truly believe taking in-game damage will cause you actual physiological damage, you’ll probably want to avoid in-game risks.
“And as for you, Richard – well, we’re going to have a long talk about your future in Marshfield Studio. You, me and Mr. Callaghan.”
“Leave him the heck alone, Roberts. Him and Jordan.”
“Mr. Owens, you’re really not in a position –”
“Like fudge I’m not. I know, Roberts. You want to have a chat with Callaghan? You tell him that. You tell him, anything happens to me – your secret is out of the bag. That’s a promise.”
Migli stared at him with unconcealed confusion. Roberts said nothing for a long time. But when he did speak, there was an edge to his tone. “You’re experiencing intense psychological distress, and bouts of paranoia, Mr. Owens. This is, of course, all nonsense. But, I would remind you that you’re in a machine with no access to the outside world.