A murmur snakes through the crowd as people chat among themselves. Jacob and I join the other council members on the outskirts of the garden. Buzz waves at me from the other side. I return the gesture, and Grayson nods in my direction. I’ll meet up with them after the show.
“Any idea what Carter has planned?” I ask Kindra.
She shrugs. “No idea. He’s been very secretive about this one.”
The crowd goes quiet as Carter takes the stage.
“Welcome!” He removes his straw hat and tips it to the crowd. His bushy brown hair dangles across his eyes. “I’m glad to have your company tonight. The plants are happy too. Isn’t that right, Florian?”
The massive tree shakes, and the glowing flowers pulse slightly.
Carter leans against his trident. He has such an easy way about him, like everyone he is talking to is an old friend. “For those of you who have witnessed our performance before, this one is going to be a little different. Sit back and enjoy the show.”
He lifts his trident in the air and a green aura surrounds the weapon. He slams the butt of the trident against the stage, and tendrils of green energy shoot out into the garden, dissipating into the plants. There’s a rustle as all the plants suddenly move. Leaves and branches unfurl, and the show begins.
Bushes erupt with purple and pink flowers and a fragrant aroma fills the air. The flowers glow with magical energy, giving their movement an ethereal quality. The short fruit trees near the stage juggle lemons and limes. Every so often, one will toss a fruit out into the crowd to a round of applause.
This is cool and all, but nothing we haven’t seen dozens of times before. I wonder what Carter has in store.
He kneels on the stage and presses a hand to the ground. His hand glows green and several dozen stems erupt from the earth in a circle surrounding the stage. The stems continue to grow until they’re about four feet high, then leaves peel off from the stems and flowers bloom. Long yellow flowers shaped like horns.
Carter whistles and the fruit trees quit juggling. A moment of silence passes before one of the new plants shudders. A long bellowing note erupts from the horn-shaped flower. It sounds like a trumpet as the note pierces through the night. A second flower joins in, then another, until they are playing a jazz symphony. The flowers sway back and forth in time with the music.
I can’t help but smile at how Carter has chosen to use his power. After the violent battle with the goblins, where he was forced to create plants capable of going to war, he has focused on entertainment and happiness. He finds joy in bringing happiness to others.
The Broken Lands is so much more than a game. The NPCs here are as real as anyone I’ve met in the real world, each one with their own hopes and dreams. If Carter wants a simple life without battle, he has every right to it.
The other plants join in, and the juggling resumes. The flower bushes sway back and forth as if dancing to the rhythm of the music. Their flowers open and close. The fruit that the trees juggle suddenly pulses with light, turning the performance into a glow-filled rave like I’ve watched in some of the cyberpunk worlds in Pangea. Yellow and green citruses streak through the air in a blur.
For the next half-hour, we’re entertained with music and light. The crowd oohs and ahhs as the lemon and lime trees interact with one another, juggling long distances but never losing a piece of fruit unless it’s being tossed to the crowd.
Eventually, the music fades to a dull hum, and Carter takes the center stage again. “I hope you enjoyed the show tonight. I will leave you with this.”
The trumpet flowers blow deep notes that resonate in my chest. Then, the flowers from the other plants detach and float into the air. One explodes above our heads like a firework, and streaks of pink light ignite the sky. Another explodes in purple light, another yellow, another blue. Each flower crackles as it explodes.
The townspeople watch with wonder, the light of the fireworks reflecting in their eyes. When the last one explodes in a burst of brilliant red, the music fades and we all stand in silence.
Jacob claps his hands together and the crowd roars in applause. I’ve gotta hand it to Carter, this was quite the show.
Carter takes a bow, and then disappears off the stage deeper into the garden.
Jacob beams, still clapping. “If the garden wasn’t a tourist attraction already, wait until word of this gets out.” He turns to the other council members. “We may even need a new inn to accommodate.”
If Carolton continues to grow, it might be smarter to start building taller buildings. We can’t exactly keep expanding outward with the new moat.
I excuse myself and make my way over to Buzz and Grayson. Buzz shakes his head, a massive grin on his face. “These just keep getting better and better.”
I embrace Buzz and Grayson, clasping my hand around their forearms in turn. “I know, right? It’s crazy how Carter thinks this stuff up. Especially since he’s spent his entire life living on a farm. How are things with the new recruits?”
Buzz shrugs. “Not too bad, they have lots of promise. We’ll have them whipped into shape in no time.”
Buzz has taken to training new recruits for the city watch. The extensive knowledge of fighting he’s learned in Pangea has made him a great teacher.
I squeeze Buzz’s shoulder. “It was good seeing you, but I need to get out of here. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah!” Buzz presses his palm to his forehead. “I almost forgot it’s your big day at the orphanage tomorrow. I’ve been so busy between training the new recruits here and setting up my tournament in Asgard that it slipped my mind.” He scrunches his brow. “You’re still coming to the tournament, right?”
I laugh. “Buzz’s First Annual Chicken Cup Classic. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
His face returns to his normal cheery disposition. “Good, because I saved you a spot in the opening rounds.”
I nod. Just one more thing to add to my plate, but if it makes Buzz happy, there’s no way I could turn it down. “I’ll be there.”
Chapter Four
The buzzing of my alarm wakes me up. I wipe the sleep from my eyes as the dull drone continues to echo from the speakers hidden in the walls and ceiling of my apartment.
“Alarm, off,” I tell my robot overlord as I sit up in bed.
“Good morning, Esil,” a comforting female voice greets me. “You have one appointment today scheduled for two hours from now. A taxi pod will be arriving to pick you up at ten AM.”
The apartments at Pangea Headquarters have the most advanced AI integrated with each living quarters. Mine handles my scheduling and appointments and can order a pod for me. I can even order a delivery drone from the cafeteria without having to move a muscle, though I try not to do that. Now that I’m no longer having to power up my Box, I have to stay active somehow.
After eating breakfast and taking a shower, I go for a walk around the headquarters’ campus to clear my head. I don’t know why, but I’m incredibly nervous about speaking at the orphanage. Maybe it’s because these kids are just like I once was. Several of them were probably living at the orphanage at the same time as me, not that I made friends with them.
I know it’s important for them to have hopes and dreams, but my story is one in a million, and I don’t want to promise them something they will never have. More than anything, I don’t want to give them false hope.
I stroll through one of the pathways without a destination in mind. The mirrored surfaces of the main building reflect the bright blue skies, but I turn away and walk deeper into the park.
Birds chirp and squirrels race from tree to tree. As I let my thoughts wander, I follow the path until it leads to the Zen garden. A wooden bench overlooks a small pond filled with koi fish. The orange-and-black fish zoom through the water beneath a gurgling fountain.
I take a seat and listen to the splash of the water, trying to let the calmness of nature wash over me. Before I know it, my watch vibrates and the screen
tells me my taxi pod is here.
I find it waiting for me out front of the headquarters’ entrance. Aleesia stands outside of the automatic doors to the building, her hands on her hips.
“Hurry up or you’re going to be late.” She smiles at me.
I give her a hug and the smell of her lavender shampoo enraptures me. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to wish you luck. I know this is important for you. You’re going to make those kids’ day.” She kisses me on the cheek. “I have to get back to the lab. Knock their socks off, Esil. I’ll see you later.”
I watch her go back inside before taking a deep breath and approaching the pod. The door unhinges with a suction of air and slides up, allowing me to enter.
I climb inside the immaculate interior with white leather seats. A hologram with the destination and route floats above my head. Now that I think about it, I should have requested an older pod. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb traveling through The Boxes in this thing.
“Welcome, Esil. Please equip your safety belt and we will be off shortly. Your route and destination are displayed on the hologram in front of you. The display can be changed to provide entertainment at your request.” The strangely human, yet somehow still robotic voice tells me of the newest entertainment options, but I decline.
I want silence for the ride to gather my thoughts. The door closes and I strap on my seatbelt. For a moment, my stomach churns as the pod rises high into the sky. I glance out the window. The people on the ground are so small that they look like toy figures as they walk around.
“We have reached sufficient altitude. You are free to remove your safety belt,” the digitized voice informs me.
I elect to keep it on. After what happened to my parents, I don’t know if I will ever fully trust one of the pods, no matter how advanced they may be. Today’s pods travel higher above the ground than the one that killed my parents, but that doesn’t make me feel any safer. It just means I have further to fall if something malfunctions. My entire life is the result of one malfunction, and I have too many people counting on me to risk my safety.
A panel in the wall opens and a package wrapped in cellophane emerges.
“Due to the location of your destination, you will need to wear a hazmat suit upon exiting the vehicle. Privacy glass can be toggled on and off at your discretion.”
I take the package and unwrap the plastic to find a gray suit and facemask. I haven’t had to wear one of these since moving to headquarters but anytime someone steps out of their home in The Boxes, these are a requirement. The radiation is so toxic that those living on the streets suffer from a slew of deformities. Being homeless in The Boxes is a death sentence. Even though the pod will be docking directly with the orphanage, the precautions are still a requirement to move into the sanitation chamber.
We pass over my old neighborhood in Civic City. It isn’t as bad as The Boxes. The residents there can wear normal clothing, but a filtering facemask and long sleeves are still required to avoid sickness while walking the streets.
Most of the kids I’m about to meet have probably never even left the orphanage since they moved in. Everything from food to clothing is delivered via drone. They go to school inside of Pangea and have access to a handful of beginner worlds thanks to Benjamin. But most of Pangea is still off limits to them.
They have it better than I did, though. Before I started beta testing, those in The Boxes only had access to the educational worlds and the internet. Or the mines if they were old enough.
I put the hazmat suit on over my clothes and strap myself back in. Thirty minutes later, the pod descends toward The Boxes. My chest grows tight as the wasteland of shipping containers comes into view.
Row after row of boxes, a sea of gray structures and blinking lights as drones navigate the toxic atmosphere. Even at this hour, the skies are dark and gray. After all these years, how are people still living here when there is so much empty space around Pangea Headquarters?
It’s not fair for anyone to be born into this.
As the pod descends, I equip my mask and press the button on the side. It suctions against my face and begins filtering my every breath. The pod docks with the entrance to the orphanage and the door opens with a hiss of air.
I step into the entryway and steam fills the room, sanitizing me before I can enter. When the steam fades, the door into the orphanage opens.
The orphanage is what I would call a mega box. Four or five boxes converted into one building capable of housing a multitude of parentless children.
Mr. Green waits for me with a smile. He has run the orphanage for years. His head is balding down the center, and two white clouds of hair surround both sides. I remember him as a stern man, but maybe that’s just because I was a child. The man before me doesn’t seem very threatening or harsh. He was always a stickler for the rules, and swift with justice to those who would break them.
“Welcome back, Esil. We’re so excited to have you. If you want to follow me this way, the kids are waiting.”
As he leads me through the orphanage, it’s just as run down as ever. Some of the monitors have cracks in them, and cobwebs coat many of the corners. I remember the spiders here vividly. The way their glowing red eyes would stare out at me from the darkness as I lay in bed. They too sought protection from the radiation outside.
Nearly two dozen kids sit cross-legged on the floor of the entertainment room. They range in age from six or seven all the way to near adults. I recognize about half of them from my time here, though I don’t recall many of their names. Back then, I was a loner. I kept to myself and found solace watching streams on the internet during my down time. A small redheaded girl holds an action figure with a missing arm. I think her name was Katy. A pair of teenagers in the back look as if their days at the orphanage are almost over. Then it’ll be off to the mines for them.
Half of the kids wear their headsets, the optics covering their eyes as they play or learn in one of Pangea’s game worlds. No haptic suits for any of them, though. The orphanage can’t afford anything that nice.
Pangea provides the headsets. They promised no student would ever be denied access to knowledge, but that is the extent of their generosity. Until they turn eighteen and receive their very own Box and haptic suit so that they can live and die in the mines.
“Alright, kids.” Mr. Green gathers their attention, and the children remove their headsets. “We have a very special guest today. He used to live and play in this very room. He won the first ever Developer’s Tournament. Now he’s working on some top-secret project at Pangea Headquarters. Here’s the man of the hour, Esil Allen.”
The kids look at me with astonishment. Several grin, a few have their mouths hanging open. I’m not sure if it’s because of who I am or because they don’t get visitors. Either way, they sit in silence.
I don’t blame them. I would have done the same thing when I lived here.
“That’s no way to treat our special guest. Show him a warm welcome.” Mr. Green claps, and the children join in.
Now, I feel more awkward than ever. What are they even clapping for?
“Uh, thanks for having me. Like Mr. Green said, I grew up in these very rooms. I know what it’s like to grow up with noth—” I catch myself before I finish. The last thing these kids need is a reminder of how little they have. “Are you all enjoying the new worlds you have access to?”
Several nods, but no one answers. I get it. Even though I used to live here, I’m just a stranger to them now. More of an urban legend than a real person.
“Did any of you watch last year’s Developer’s Tournament?”
They sit up straight at the mention of the tournament and I get more enthusiastic nods this time. One kid even speaks up. “I did.”
I focus on the kid who spoke up. He’s probably ten or eleven. “What did you think about it?”
His eyes light up with excitement. “It was so awesome. The zombies, and all the contestant
s, and the race, and the maze. And that crazy death knight! It was so cool!”
I grin at his enthusiasm. “Yeah, it was pretty awesome. What about the rest of you? Did you have any favorite parts?”
I go around the room, calling on children as they tell me all the things they loved about the tournament. Everyone has their turn to speak, everyone except for one of the older kids in the back. He sits with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Shaggy black hair nearly covers his eyes.
I nod to him. “What’s your name?”
“Dean,” he mumbles.
“Well, Dean, did you watch the tournament?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And what?” He leans back against the wall. This kid definitely has a chip on his shoulder.
“What did you think?”
He changes the subject. “I know why you’re here.”
That’s funny, because I don’t even know why I’m really here. “And why’s that?”
He uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “You’re here to tell us that the world isn’t so bad. That if you can make it, then we all can. You’re trying to give us hope that our lives won’t be as monotonous and as dull as every other person who lives in The Boxes. You’ll feel good about your good deed and then go back to your fancy life at Pangea Headquarters. And in a year, I’ll be working at the mines.”
The room sits in a shocked silence as their eyes dart between me and Dean.
Mr. Green finally breaks the silence. “Dean, that is enough. Go to your room.”
Dean starts to stand, but I turn to Mr. Green. “No, it’s okay. Let him stay.”
Mr. Green gives me a questioning look, but he nods. “Okay.”
Pangea Online 3: Vials and Tribulations Page 3