Rush to Level 0: The Game (Chapter 4)

Meeting Claire was always a borderline experience. As a dark web information broker, he had access to any and all sort of information that people wanted hidden. I had no doubt he could find all my web and real-life info with a snap of his fingers. Back when I had stumbled on the game’s invitation trial, I had turned to him for assistance. I still wasn’t sure if it had been a mistake.

“Do you want me to order something to eat?” Twinkle asked. “Protein bars are not a good diet for a growing girl.”

“Maybe later.” I kept staring at the screen of my phone.

My grandfather used to say that life was an endless cycle of put-up or shut-up choices. I remember he would have huge arguments with my dad about it. Grandpa never approved my father’s choice of work, but what he really hated was the ‘sniveling attitude,’ as he called it. Apparently, he turned out to be right. One day, without warning, my father lost his position and joined the ranks of the partially employed. I wasn’t going to let the same mistake happen to me.

“Tell me when Jeff calls,” I told Twinkle and went into my gaming rig.

A few seconds later, I was in the virtual reality lobby, surrounded by a sea of ad windows. Discount icons floated around, letting me know that the corporations were willing to only take part of my money to get me hooked. Without a doubt, they had paid to get my financial info from my bank and used an algorithm to determine how much I was able to spend.

I opened the quick menu and activated my Vesperia shortcut. Normally, it took an instant to log on in the game. This time, a wait icon appeared.

So, you finally did your big update? I smirked.

The game had been around since my childhood days and had barely improved since then. To say it hadn’t aged well was an understatement. The only reason it still attracted players was because most used it as a chat platform rather than an actual game. The latest developer owners had attempted to change that by partially upping the graphics and adding new areas and playable races, but the results remained mixed. Doing a quick web search, I found that their latest push was to boost the aerial zones of the game, adding all kinds of flying mechanics. The idea sounded really bad, but then again, I’d seen worse things be successful.

Thank you for returning to Vesperia!

As a loyal player who has reached the maximum level, you have earned the option of trying out one of our elite class avatars at no additional cost!

Welcome, and please make sure to enjoy the new fascinating features of the world’s oldest established virtual reality game!

There were only two options given, neither of which tickled my fancy. I clicked on one just to close the window. The standard login sequence triggered shortly after, taking me into the game.

The spawn point was on what appeared to be a floating island. The graphics were a massive improvement since my last visit here. Sadly, the players weren’t. Within seconds my personal chat exploded with greetings—no doubt people had seen that my avatar was using my real biometrics. I set myself to not disturb, and rushed towards the nearest teleport hall.

“Seventeen ping attempts of your account have been made,” Twinkle said cheerfully. “I blocked them.”

“Thanks.” I had forgotten what it was like to be bombarded by script kiddies wanting to find more about me.

It took me about a minute to find the assigned teleport hall. The game had done an interface redesign, shifting everything around in such a way that made it difficult to follow. Likely there was a setting somewhere that returned to classic view, but finding it was as difficult as anything else. In the end, I settled for manually using an NPC to travel to a more remote location. Thankfully, even with the changes, part of the core functionality had remained the same.

The meeting point was the place I had first come across Claire—a tavern in a merchant city. Technically, there was no reason to set it up there; he would have found me no matter where I went, but thinking about it brought me back to a time when I liked the game.

The cost of teleportation had doubled since last time. The gamer inside me grumbled at the money-grubbing schemes of the game devs, though for the most part, I didn’t care. Once on the teleport platform, the world around me blinked, changing to something more familiar; I was back in the city I knew. It was almost identical to what I remembered, with one major exception: the crowds of people were gone, replaced by abandonment.

“Twinkle, how many players are here?” I asked. Virtual ghost towns weren’t uncommon. With the amount of games competing for the players’ time and money, it was inevitable that some locations would fall into neglect. I just never thought it would happen to Vesperia. Even when it was bleeding players, I expected it would be the thing that remained forever, somehow stirring in the background. Guess I was wrong.

“Seventy-eight traders and fourteen visible players are connected within the city limits,” the cat replied floating in front of my face. “Do you want me to sniff their data?”

“No.” I wasn’t here to play.

The tavern wasn’t too far from the teleportation spot. Normally it would have taken me a few minutes to get there. Without the crowds, I made it in less than one. The first thing I noticed inside was that less than a fifth of the tables were occupied. The second—that all of them were NPCs.

“Hey, there!” A busty barmaid approached me, holding a tray of beer mugs. “What will it be?”

“Whatever you have,” I replied. It didn’t really matter. Without taste upgrades, all the food tasted the same.

The barmaid slammed a beer on the nearest table. “On the house,” she said with a wink before going to the other patrons. At least Claire’s taste in NPCs hadn’t changed. I sat down and took a sip. The drink was as bland as I remembered it.

“I can fetch you some of the real stuff, if you want,” a voice said across me. An old bard in rough grey clothes and a finely trimmed beard had appeared in the chair facing me. “You won’t get drunk, but it has taste.”

“I’ll pass.” I pushed the beer away. “Where’s your standard crowd? Last time this place was full.”

“I moved them to more prosperous locations.” He took out a virtual cigarette and lit it. “The new expansions messed up some of the old cities. Everyone’s busy getting freebies in the new zones. They’ll be back in a few months.”

“Right.” The change didn’t seem to have affected him financially. “How’s Max?”

“Off doing what Max does.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t know I’m meeting you. Anyway, let’s get down to business.” Claire rubbed his hands briskly, his face not moving a muscle. “I know you’re in the game.”

Of course you do.

I didn’t doubt for a moment that he had spyware watching me online. Tough luck that Jeff had done a full clean of Twinkle’s code. Whatever was there was now gone, effectively rendering Claire blind. No doubt that was the reason for the meeting request.

“I regret that things didn’t go too well between us last time,” he went on, making me snort.

‘Didn’t go too well’ was a nice way of describing a betrayal that could have left me brain dead.

“Still, a deal is a deal. You have something that you owe me.” He put his hand palm up on the table. “The footage, please.”

“You know everything, don’t you?” If it weren’t for the avatar, I would be shivering right now. I knew what dark brokers could do even before I got together with Jeff; seeing one in action was every bit as scary as people said.

I opened my inventory and transferred the video feed I’d gotten from my moment in the game. According to our bargain, ninety percent of every video captured belonged to him. I was free to edit out ten percent as I saw fit. It was a bad deal, but I had been pretty broke at the time and needed all the help I could get.

“That’s all?” Claire asked, taking a puff from his cigarette. The fake tobacco ashes light up with a deep blue glow.

“That’s it. Pretty boring, I know.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” His eyes narrowed. Instantly, I knew something was wrong.

“Aren’t you going to skim through it?” I felt a chill.

“Oh, I did.” He took another puff, then tossed his cigarette away. I watched it fly across the room and pass through the barmaid, who continued serving one of the other ‘customers.’ “All three minutes of it. Do you know the part I liked best?” Claire leaned forward. “The part in the middle, when the static almost formed snowflakes.”

Crap!

Getting a dark broker pissed off at me definitely wasn’t on my bucket list. Pissing him off by accident felt five times worse. My mind raced back, trying to pinpoint where I had messed up. There was no way for Twinkle to have botched the recording; the function was too simple for that. It had to be the world itself.

“That’s why I didn’t send it to you,” I said, trying to take advantage of the situation. Maybe it was possible for two wrongs to make a right? “The perception of time seems to be different inside. There should have been an hour of video. I swear, I didn’t meddle with—”

“You don’t have the skill to meddle!” Claire cut me off. This was the first time I’d seen him lose his cool. “If anyone tweaks my apps, I’d know! No one touched my camera. No one messed with my video. No one could have messed with my video! I started footage on three proxies the second you turned it on. And do you know what I got? Those three minutes that the device sent me?”

I stood still, unwilling to shake my head. When I made my living on the net, I had learned to notice the warning signs: when someone was about to lash out, when someone was on the verge of breakdown, when they were faking it. More importantly, I knew how to react in all of those cases. Right now, the best policy was to keep quiet.

“Have a look!” Claire opened a video window and ran the clip.

There were no distinct images playing. There wasn’t any static, either, at least not the static I was familiar with. It was as if I was looking at a whirlwind of pixel-sized grains, spinning around as they moved along a set of invisible lines. For several seconds, I caught myself following a red dot spiral through a square of blue. The color of the dot and the square around it would completely change, yet the dot would never stop its motion.

“What is this?” I moved closer.

“Nothing.” Claire hissed and closed the window. “Three minutes of complete nothing, all coming from your app during the time you claimed to be in the game.”

“It’s not a claim. I was there.” And so was Twinkle. The moment our talk was over, I was going to go through every setting and backup my companion had. “I spent almost an hour walking through the place. And I wasn’t alone. There were other people.”

“Other people,” he repeated slowly. “Describe them.”

“There’s nothing much to describe.” I fought the urge to lean back. “There wasn’t anything special. Most seemed new to the game.” There was no point in mentioning the weird eyes. At least, not until I was in a position to ask for something in return. “All had biometric avatars. And the same set of low-level clothes. No one knew what exactly was going on. We talked a bit and I logged off.”

“All in three minutes.”

“It felt longer.” Ten times longer.

“And you just spent the time talking about the game?”

“No. I spent it trying to figure out how they managed to pull off sense and smell functionality on my current hardware.” Sarcasm was rarely a good thing to use on an annoyed dark broker. At the same time, I was running out of patience. “I never could afford the upgrades,” I added for good measure. “Have you heard anything of the sort?”

“Only rumors.” He leaned back. I felt the weight of the world fall off my chest. “A few startups made attempts, but they were all bought off. The patent creep stopped the rest from trying.”

“Someone managed to pull it off, and not only that: the graphics were lifelike.”

“Lots of games have lifelike.” His interest quickly faded. “Back to the issue, I feel cheated. We made a deal that gave me the right of ninety-five percent of your time in the game. I gave you money and information, I kept you safe from spoofing and sabotage. That doesn’t come cheap.”

I could tell where this was going. The three months’ silence made me think that our dealings were settled. The information I’d provided him was supposed to clear my debt, or so I thought. Apparently, I was wrong.

“What do you want me to do? I gave you everything I promised.”

“Yes, and that’s why I set up a meeting instead of ghosting your life.” The words sent shivers down my spine. “That doesn’t change the facts. You promised me something and didn’t deliver, so we’ll have to come to a new arrangement.”

Clair made a sign for the barmaid to approach. The NPC stopped serving a customer midway and walked up to our table. There was no sign of her game persona; looking at her, I could see nothing more than a puppet. Reaching into her shirt, she took out a small black cube and put it on the table in front of me.

“Once we’re done here, I want you to log out of Vesperia and open that,” Claire said. “Use the external gift function, but be sure you aren’t in any game. And don’t let your AI touch it.”

“What is it?” I asked the expected question.

“A timestamp tracker,” came the reply. “Next time you go in the game, spend as long as possible there, then send me a message.”

“Sure.” I hated this. My hand was calm as I took the app, even if I was anything but. If this was as illegal as I thought, I could get up to ten years in prison just for owning it, longer if I severely violated any company compliance agreement. “That’s our new deal?”

“Not quite.” The dark broker waved the barmaid away, then leaned forward. “I know we’ve had our bad moments. I also know that you don’t particularly like me.”

Leave it to a dark webber to add a “particularly” there. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I hated him, but I did wish I didn’t have to deal with him.

“But without my info you’d never have entered the game,” he went on. “Just as I wouldn’t have learned it was possible.”

That much was true. Without his info and protection, I wouldn’t have found the clues in time, not to mention defeated Firestarter. It was also true that all his previous attempts of finding any practical info about the game had failed. I wasn’t the first player he had made a deal with, but I knew I was the only one that succeeded. In a fair world, that would have been enough to pay my debt ten times over. Sadly, the web had never been a fair world.

“A partnership,” he finally said. “That’s my offer. I’ll offer you backing, info, and protection. In return, you’ll help me find out what’s in the game.” A smirk formed on his face. “I know you want to find out as much as me.”

Another partnership... he wasn’t wrong, I did want to learn more, though not this way. The logical part of me liked the idea—it was an opportunity that many would spend their lives chasing. The emotional part of me despised Claire even more.

“Sure.” It wasn’t an offer I could refuse, not without talking to Jeff at least. “So, what now?”

“Now, you continue as you normally would have.” He leaned back. “You get out of here, text your boyfriend you’re waiting for him, then log into the game.”

I froze. Not only did he know about Jeff, but he also knew about the plans we’d made. The only way he could know about that was if he were listening in on my conversations at work. If he could do that today, he could have done it non-stop for the last three months.

“Any other advice?” I tried to appear cocky.

“You’re in new territory, Sarah. There’s only one bit of advice you could use. Don’t trust anyone. Yourself least of all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Cliché web wisdom was something I despised. “Twinkle, log out.”

Claire’s smile was the last thing I saw as my surroundings collapsed, ejecting me into the general VR lobby. Registering my presence, a new wave of ad windows surrounded me, arranged by web history.

So much for keeping calm. I had hoped that everything I’d gone though would have prepared me for what was to come. Less than a day, and my entire past had crawled out of the woodworks. Kyle, the elf chick, and now Claire. If they had found out, it was likely that Firestarter would as well.

“Is everything all right, Sarah?” Twinkle appeared on my head. “You’ve been paused for fifteen seconds.”

“I’m thinking,” I said out of habit.

“Do you want me to log you into the game?”

A good question. Jeff was about to arrive shortly. I could wait for him to beef up my rig’s security before I went in. In the game, would that even matter?

“Let’s go,” I said. Moments later, I was in front of the gate. This time, I didn’t pause, moving directly through it.

Time lock 1

A yellow message window appeared in front of me. I tapped on it out of habit. The window went into a spin, then exploded in a burst of yellow voxels. I felt something cold and smooth press against my neck and wrists. A golden pair of shackles appeared round my wrists, pulling them down to the ground.

What the hell?

I felt another weight pile on my shoulders; a massive collar had appeared round my neck, chains from it connecting to the shackles.

“Twinkle, disconnect me!” I shouted.

“I can’t do that, Sarah,” the cat replied with its sad expression. “Exit functionality has been blocked.”

Like it hell it has! I moved my fingers in such fashion to activate the emergency log out. Nothing happened. I felt a block of ice form in my stomach as I went through the sequence again, in the hope I had missed an action. The result remained the same: no window, no exit, no hope of escape.

“Damn everything to hell!” I shouted. I knew I should have waited for Jeff. If he were here to monitor me, we’d have found a way to get me out.

“Do you need any help, Sarah?” Twinkle floated onto the ground.

“Shut up,” I hissed. My heart was racing like wild. I had to think.

This was a game, so as any game, it had to have rules. All I had to do was find out what they were. Then I could free myself and get out of this place. I felt part of my calm return.

My mind went back to my conversation with Kyle. He had said that he’s not allowed to help me learn the rules. No surprise there. Even back when he pretended to be my friend, he would drop hints rather than give a straight answer.

“Systems rules are the exception,” I repeated.

“What do you mean, Sarah?” Twinkle tilted his head.

“Shut up.” I opened what passed as the game’s menu. As before, a window with my name and level appeared.

Here goes nothing.

I tapped the window. The text on it changed.

Level: 100

Powers: Godlike

Rule 47: Breach logout is punishable by Time Lock 1.

XP to level 99: 10000