Rush to Level 0 (Chapter 8)

Seventeen e-muggings, two new avatar murders, and two hundred and twelve cases of identity theft. Skimming through daily news articles had always been a mix of guilty pleasure and adrenaline. Waiting in the middle of the night in a no-camera neighborhood was one of the few things that could get my mind off real life crime. According to some know-it-all bloggers, areas with fewer cameras were supposed to be safer for normal people. Their argument was that increased crime would force the city to install more security devices, which no one wanted, so there was a greater initiative for them to keep it out of the neighborhood. The only problem in this logic was that Kyle was involved. Maybe it “stood to reason” in the ultra-rich gated community the bloggers typed from, but in real-life, fewer cameras meant greater risk.

The sect church Kyle had chosen for the meeting was a three-story house, all covered in neon. I hadn’t done an in-depth search of its history, but I knew it was one of the first technical sects in the city, which made their practices highly questionable. Ironically, it was also the safest place, too—even junkies knew better than to mess with cultists or their potential recruits.

My phone pinged. I’d received a message from Kyle. There was a single word: Wait.

Easy for you to say.

I closed the message and went back to the live feed gossip section. Most of the entries were about gaming drama and corrupt tournament officials, with a scattering of celebrity birthdays and world records in-between. As I scrolled through, something caught my eye—an article marking three months since Firestarter had left the pro scene to take an unexpected hiatus. Speculations ranged from stress to a secret breakup with her latest boyfriend. A while back, she had tried to destroy my avatar so I’d fail the game’s entry trial. If we ever met, I expected her to try again.

“Hello, Sarah.” I heard Kyle a short distance away. “Enjoying the view?”

I put my phone away. Kyle was dressed differently now, changing his usually scruffy clothes for a yuppie suit; just like a snake to show off a new set of skin.

“What excuse did you use for Jeff?” He smirked as he got closer. “Or did he agree to let you go?”

“He’s sleeping,” I lied.

Kyle snorted, then took out a mini-vape from his inner vest pocket and offered it to me. I shook my head.

“Wise choice.” He threw it on the ground. “I’m trying to cut them down myself. It’s said that companies are adding chem narcos now. Seven hours of use, and you’re hooked. Who would have thought that smoking would turn out to be a safer alternative?”

“Fascinating,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could.

“Let’s have a walk.” He continued along the street.

We headed in the direction of the city outskirts. The further we went, the higher the buildings became—apartment blocks holding dozens of tenants of my social strata or less. The popular shop and bar chains were replaced by automated wall vendors. The few people on the streets were teenagers, playing VR games.

“Did you make any deals?” Kyle asked as we walked. The air around him had changed completely. The buttons of his suit glistened in the night.

“One,” I admitted. His expression told me he wasn’t pleased. “More of an arrangement,” I added.

“What did you give in exchange?”

“Where are we going, Kyle?” I cursed myself for being so stupid. He could kill me here and now, and no one would even care. Even if the city cameras were functional, it would take minutes for a patrol car to reach me, enough time for me to be completely helpless. My phone was equipped with the standard shock mod, but I felt it would do little good.

Kyle gave me a sideways glance and quickened his pace. Two intersections later, he stopped, pointing at a building in the distance.

“Search that,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

At this distance I could zap him easily with my phone. A press of a button and a single jab would leave him on the street and me safely on my way home. I could feel the adrenaline in my blood, more than enough to make me go for it. Still, I chose to open the map.

According to my GPS, the city’s eleventh precinct was half a block away, though that wasn’t the greatest surprise. The building Kyle had pointed at was marked as a high-ranking psychiatric hospital. Other than the name, no information was given, not even the facility’s staff or working hours.

“Hundreds of people try to join the game every year,” Kyle began, each word reinforcing my dread. “Any guesses as to what happens to those who don’t quite make it?”

I felt a chill. “Everyone’s in there?”

“Some are.” He rubbed his hands. “Those who are local and could afford it. The asylum for the rich. Some of the best specialists in the world work there, toiling tirelessly every day to keep their vegetable patients alive. It’s said that every few months, a small miracle takes place—someone beats the odds and makes it back to their family.” He turned towards me. “I’m here to tell you that there are no miracles. No one remains insane for long.”

The subtext was clear. I stood silently, staring at the hospital. All the money in the world, and it still wasn’t enough.

“The Depository,” I said. “I have an arrangement with the Depository.”

“Not the worst option.” Kyle’s features relaxed. I considered it safer not to mention my encounter with Spaff. “So, what did you want info on?”

“Must we talk here?” If I were ejected from the game, would I end up there? With my monetary situation, I’d likely be thrown in one of the less elite clinics until my upkeep became larger than the incentives to keep me there. I trembled, trying to get the nightmare scenario out of my head.

“Sure.” Kyle smiled, returning to his casual mode. “I know a place.”

A quarter hour later we were sitting in a fully automated café near the city’s center. The place was small, in the lower price range, offering the same variety of processed food combos one could find in every mall vendor. It was also three blocks away from my home, which made it comforting.

“How much time do you have?” Kyle asked, stirring his alcoholic cola.

“Enough.” I checked the time on my phone. “Jeff should be still asleep.”

“Sneaky,” he laughed. “I must admit, I like the guy. He’s amusing, even if boringly predictable. You sure you don’t want anything to eat? I’m buying.”

“Just like the good old times,” I sighed. The image of the asylum still lingered in my mind, along with the rumors of people in pursuit of the game going insane. “Maybe later.” I used the universally polite refusal.

“It’s your life.” Kyle shrugged and gulped his glass in one go.

“Tell me about the level decreases.” I adjusted the back of my seat. The café’s choice of dividing its space into two by two cubicles might have been a good business choice, but didn’t offer much in terms of comfort.

“What do you know?” He tapped on the touchscreen menu.

“Everyone starts at a hundred and levels down.” I watched a new, sealed plastic cup of flavored alcohol emerge from the café dispenser and make its way in front of Kyle. “When you reach level zero, there’s supposed to be some grand prize.”

“Quite accurate.” Kyle removed the plastic seal and took a gulp. “One clarification. Only the first person to reach level zero gains the prize.”

The whole concept sounded stupid, but I nodded nonetheless. If this was the one way to escape the game while keeping my sanity, I’d have no choice to play. Likely that was the reason everyone else did. And still I couldn’t see the attraction.

“Do you have a starter guide?” Only a noob would ask such a question, but I didn’t care about keeping up appearances.

“Wouldn’t that be fun,” Kyle laughed. “That’s not how things work in the game. No one person has explored or completed the entire thing. All the players combined haven’t. That’s what makes information so valuable. Personally, I think it’s a bit overboard. Information has become so valuable that players attach a value to everything.” He took another gulp. “The thing is, when you start, you have the ability to do everything. While you’re still green-eyed, nothing in the world can touch you. Some seem to like that and spend their time walking about as immortals enjoying a highly detailed retreat. You’ll come across them now and again. Snobbish assholes with stories of “the good old days,” looking down on anyone who’s lost the immortal status. Some of them make for good vendors.”

“Is that the best option?” Interesting that he hadn’t mentioned anything about the culling beasts.

“It’s an option. Safer than most, if you have no ambition and want to log in every week for tea. That used to be popular when I first joined. Back then, Immortal Brunch was still a thing. Every month, the oldie players would have a tea event at some new location and would spend hours discussing gossip and trivia.”

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

“It wasn’t, until boredom kicked in.” Kyle finished his drink and tossed the cup in the rubbish recycler. “What do you do when you’ve spent decades discussing the same things with the same people? Even when new players join, conversations are stale. Besides, love them or hate them the geezers had a lot of info about the game. It was easy exploring when the game world was unknown. What do newbies have to offer? It’ll take you months to find an unexplored area, and even then you’ll have to compete with others who are much more incentivized to show results.”

“What’s left?” Where are you steering me to?

“There are three ways to play the game successfully. Solo, free, and bound.” I could feel the tension in the air. “Most players start as free agents. You get your freedom, form a few loose alliances, and make a few deals along the way, but on the whole, you get to do what you want while having some protection.”

So far, he wasn’t telling me anything new. This was how most players started in the net. People started on their own, then gravitated to those who could help them progress and become known.

“You can choose to get recruited by a group,” Kyle went on. “It’s like joining a faction in reverse. The newer you are, the more people want to attract you. Everyone’s interested in having immortals to help out in difficult areas. While you’re in the nineties, you can pretty much join any group you wish. After that you must show some skill. When you reach level fifty no one will have you.”

This was an interesting turn of events, although it made sense. From the little I knew, level fifty was important enough to trigger a world event. If a player was strong enough to survive at such a low level, they would pose a threat to the existing group structure. That’s why it was so difficult for high ranking guilders to find a new faction in the normal game world. In practice, it was far easier for them to start a guild of their own and hope it didn’t sink.

“You get lots of protection from a group and a little freedom as you climb the ranks, but never the chance to win the prize.”

“What’s the point then?” My fingers were starting to feel cold.

“The point is the knowledge that once the group leader wins the prize, he won’t forget those who helped him get there.”

You’re talking about a sect. Chills ran down my spine. “You’re from a group,” I whispered, frightened by my own realization. All the constant coaxing, the help, the free advice… it was all to get me hooked.

Kyle laughed, his smug expression taunting me, as if to say that I would never find out. I felt drops of sweat trickle down my back as my mind went into a paralysis loop. Everything screamed Kyle being part of a sect, but why hadn’t he recruited me yet? I had read enough to know how the techno sects worked, and this was not it. He hadn’t tried to lull me in a sense of false security. If anything, he had been as repulsive as possible, pushing me away from the game.

“Finally, you can go solo.” He ordered a chocolate soufflé on the menu. Lights flashed on the table, awarding the bonus content an order of such cost had earned him. “Make your own rules, trust no one, always look over your shoulder, and hope that you’ll snatch the prize. Greatest reward, greatest risk. Hospitals are full of people who’ve tried,” he added casually, bringing back the image of mental institutions to my mind.

“Still waiting for some actual advice.” I buried my nails in the palm of my hand out of habit. The moment I did, a sharp pain shot through me, almost making me tear up. I looked down. Four crescent shaped bruises stood there, still reddish-purple, as if made less than a day ago.

“Everything okay?” Kyle asked as the automated café service system brought his dessert.

“Yes.” I closed my hand, moving it under the table. “I think I should get back soon.”

“Don’t let Jeff catch you sneaking outside.” He smirked. “We don’t want him to think you’re cheating on him. If he gets too noisy, there might be complications.” Kyle narrowed his eyes. “You want practical advice? Decide how you’d like to play. Players are like bots: some open up to certain styles of play, others don’t. Take advantage while you’re in the nineties.” He stood up. “If you want to focus on the big picture, learn all the skills you want. If not, join a group you like and take it from there. Either way, do it fast. People who remain level hundred for long tend to disappear, and I’m not talking about the game.” He slid the chocolate soufflé towards me. “A gift. Thanks for the chat, Sarah. We must do it again sometime.”

I remained in the cubicle for several minutes after Kyle had gone. He had done a pretty good job of scaring me, to the point where I couldn’t tell whether he was for or against me. Others had tried to dissuade me from joining the game before, but they had always been direct about it. Kyle gave the impression of someone who enjoyed ripping wings off of players and watching them squirm.

My phone pinged.

Analyzing data. Will tell you if I find something.

Be on your guard. Someone’s been trying to access your avatar account in the last two hours. Quite persistent. Will look into it to see if it’s anyone I know. DON’T ENTER THE GAME UNTIL I TELL YOU!

-Claire

Good to know you’re ordering me around. I put the phone away. At the moment, hacking was the last thing I was concerned about. Leaving the dessert behind, I went out of the café. About an hour had passed, though it had felt longer. Jeff hadn’t called. Tomorrow, I was going to tell him everything about the game. Not about Kyle, though.

The smell of heavy chemicals lingered in the air as I walked—parts of the city were scheduled for mandatory disinfection. The process was claimed to be safe, even if no actual research data had been presented to prove it. Even in the current circumstances, I didn’t want to be stuck in an area that reeked of plastic urine.

By the time I got home, Jeff was asleep, half-naked in my bed. Judging by the amount of plastic wrappers and cardboard casings, he had set up my rig to his liking. His phone was on the floor, flashing on and off—a stream of texts from his sister, from what I could tell. I could tell I’d be getting a whole lot of passive-aggressive messages in the near future.

Careful not to wake him up, I took off my clothes and went to my rig. There were about five hours until my next shift, which converted to a day of game time at least. I could easily spend a day in the game checking out the village before Jeff woke up, even if I ended up getting shackled later.

Let’s see what you’ve done. I stepped in and activated my gear.

“Hello, Sarah!” Twinkle greeted me in the system lobby. “I found a hundred and seven sites that could be the ghost forum’s new location. Do you want to check each of them out?”

“Later, Twinkle.” I thought of the gate. The sea of ad banners around me crumbled like sparkling dust, forming the world of the game.

It gets easier every time. As my grandfather liked to joke, either I was getting used to the computer world, or it was getting used to me. My first attempt to enter had ended with me barely peeking through a crack in the gate. Now, it seemed I had the power to enter at will.

“Sure thing, Sarah!” I felt the fluffy weight of the cat on my shoulder.

The spot I had appeared in was precisely the same I had left, only this time it was night. The good news was that I hadn’t been punished for my premature disconnecting. The bad news—there wasn’t a person to be seen. The village was completely deserted and all the houses were dark.

“Twinkle, check if there’s anyone in the village.” I headed towards the Depository building. “Stay hidden.”

“Okay!” The AI leapt off my shoulder and flew in off.

I opened my options menu. I was still listed as being level one hundred, with the minor addition that this time I had a new line of text: Currently Unaffiliated. Strangely enough, there was no mention of my arrangement with the Depository, or the elf girl for that matter. It seemed that not everything that happened in the world was written down.

The door of the building was unlocked, so I stepped in. In other worlds, half a dozen system notifications would pop up about now, asking me to buy stealth buffs and items at a discount. Here, I didn’t need them; I could see everything clearly, even in almost complete darkness—another perk of being level hundred.

The first thing I did was go and check the notice boards. A large part of them remained blank, but thanks to the deal I’d made with Elvira, quite a few had text visible.

Finding a confirmed location of new culling beast den: 99000 I.

I took a note from the board. There was no difficulty rating, no sender, not even a seal or stamp indicating who had made the request. The currency was marked as “I”, assumably standing for Information. Looking at other notes, the amount varied from low hundreds to tens of thousands. The reward for finding a culling den was one magnitude higher. Given that was the one thing I knew of that could kill any player, I had no intention of attempting to complete it.

“What are you doing here?” a voice asked behind me.

Shit! Someone had been here after all.

My primary reaction was to twist around and perform a combo attack. It took less than a second for me to be reminded of the difference between game and player skills. Even if I could be considered an okay MMO player, I hadn’t been in any serious fights in real life.

“Who are you?” A boy in a clerk’s outfit appeared before me. He was holding a thin cavalry sabre, pointing the tip towards my face.

“I have an arrangement to be here!” I quickly said. “I have a deal with the Depository!” I extended my hand showing the ring Elvira had given me. “I couldn’t find anyone, so I went in the Depository to—”

“Sarah?” the boy interrupted.

“Aha.” I took a step back, bumping into the quest board.

The boy looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, with one of those babyfaces that made it difficult to tell for sure. If I met him on the street, I’d probably pass by without noticing. He was slightly taller than me, with short blond hair and Asian features, perfectly suited for a pop idol wannabe.

“I thought you failed the trial.” He let go of the sabre, the weapon disintegrating into nothingness. “How long have you been here?”

“This is my third time.” Who the heck are you?

“Wow. This is so...” A giant smile lit up his face. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Who are you?”

“It’s me!” The clerk grinned. “FlickerFlacker.”