The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point (15 page)

When he lifts her from the ground in a large hug, he says her name with excitement and disbelief whimpering together.

“Fantom?”

“The one and only, yo. Unless you count the mirror accounts I have running so the DgS can't monitor my real location.”

He doesn't acknowledge what she says, instead turning toward me with a dazed look.

“Who's your friend?”

“Xen, it's me,” I say.

His eyes blink once. Twice. There's a fog covering his mind that he tries to break through.

Fantom confirms, “It's Arkade.”

His brain clicks with recognition and he falls toward me, his body collapsing into mine with an encompassing hug. I hold his skeletal body up as he cries into me, shaking with every whimper.

My shoulder muffles his mouth, but I hear him ask, “Is it really you? Tell me it's really you.”

“It's really me.”

He leans back from me without releasing his grip. “How are you... How is this...?”

“It's a long story,” I say.

“Too long,” Fantom says, stepping closer. “Right now, we're needin' to talk to your partner.”

It takes Xen a moment. He sniffles his tears back inside and glances at Raev, who's still excusing Xen's behavior in front of the Metaversalists.

“Raev? What do you need to talk to her about?”

I look at Xen with as serious a face as my teenage boy avatar can summon and say, “We're going to save Cyren.”

Xen and Raev's private chat room inside the mega-church is anything but cozy. The grandiose scale of the environment makes me feel both exposed and humble in comparison. We all float in the blackness of space, with stars twinkling light years away yet close enough to see every detail of their burning surface. As I float in awe of the vastness surrounding us, one of the stars implodes and devours its surroundings. It takes a few seconds for the implosion to consume the entire universe, only to cause an origin spark and explode into existence once again. Someone spent some time designing these graphics.

We're all standing on a small plot of land that houses a single tree, as if the universe ripped it from some earth that no longer exists. Roots protrude from the bottom of the loose soil.

“Cool,” is all I manage to say, but no one hears me. Everyone is too busy trying to fit in their questions between everyone else's questions. We're all trying to catch up on years in a matter of minutes.

Before I explain my own story of my death trapping me in the log-out loop for so long and the virus attacking, Xen and Raev explain their experiences after graduation. They decided to take a pilgrimage through DOTgod, exploring the multitudes of other denominations and religions and philosophies. It was during these travels that they came across an old database from the early years of Omniversalism. No one had opened the files for decades. The files clearly stated there were originally only seven hundred and seventy-seven lessons of Omniversalism. Men and women trying to further their own agendas added the rest.

“There was a huge investor of the audio-cast,” Xen explains, smiling and speaking with a slight chuckle as he pops a tiny red pill into his mouth. “He added the rules about never reading the lessons. You were only supposed to speak them.”

Raev plops down against the tree and says, “After we knew where his credits were invested, it seemed kind of obvious why he wouldn't want people using text-casts to spread the word of Omniversalism.”

“No doubt,” Xen says with a wink toward Raev. “When we pieced together who made what new rule, the motivations and biases became quite clear. We couldn't continue teaching Omniversalism with a clear conscience.”

This led them to create their own site within DOTgod where they could teach the original lessons, dubbed “The Sevens”. They called it Metaversalism. Over time their venture turned into the mega-church we found them in.

Raev's mother still thinks that Xen has coerced her into some kind of cult that's taken over her life. She's still trying to bring her back into the DOTbiz domain to pursue a more secular path.

“It won't be a problem for me to get us into DOTbiz,” she tells us, running her fingers across the thick grass. “I have an open invitation. But I'm guessing we don't want my mother tracking us, in which case we're going to have to wait until she logs-out.”

“I don't know if we have that kind of time, yo,” Fantom says.

“We don't have a choice. The possibility of her little lamb returning to the capitalist flock will always excite my mother.” Raev chuckles at her own description and explains, “She has an automatic alert to let her know if I ever enter the domain.”

Fantom looks anxious as she paces around the tree. I try to use logic and strategy to convince her.

“It's pointless to log-in to DOTbiz if we're going to get caught by some overbearing parent hovering around our accounts. We should wait.”

Fantom doesn't look happy but she says, “This is
your
quest, Cowboy.”

“Perhaps I'm mistaken, and if so, please correct me,” Xen asks as he nonchalantly slides another pill into his mouth, “but won't the DgS be looking for Arkade? And if so, wouldn't they check up on any of the accounts associated with him? I'm not sure hanging out with the two players he was grouped with in DangerWar 2 is the best idea.”

“Why don't you leave the hackin' to me,” Fantom says with a glare.

I hate to admit it, but, “He's got a point, Fantom. I think they would know that Xen is the first person I'd contact when I logged-in.”

She lets out a long sigh, annoyed that she has to explain herself. “Look, you're on one of my old ghost accounts because you needed somethin' clean for the log-in. Once you were inside NextWorld, I rerouted your bandwidth so they can't track your E-Womb location. After that, hidin' your online activity is kiddie scripts. I'm doin' the same for all of us. We're invisible, yo.”

“And the church?” Xen says, calm and smiling like his mind is floating high above any real sense of worry. “I can't have anyone in my congregation associated with any kind of illegal-”

Fantom holds up her hand to stop him. “As soon as we entered, I redirected any attempts at log-ins to an 'under construction' warning. The DgS can't send officers to check it out. As soon as we leave, I'll reconnect your traffic and no one will be any wiser.”

“You hacked my church?”

It's the first time his smile falters.

Raev sets her hand on Xen's shoulder and says, “It'll be fine. We'll send out apologies to everyone for the inconvenience. They can survive a few hours without you.”

“Sorry, Xen,” I say, “but we need to do this. It's the only chance I have to save her.”

Xen pops another pill into his mouth. His indulgence in the inebriating app is making me uncomfortable, but I don't have time to analyze it.

“Of course,” Xen says, returning to his dazed, unconnected state.

After that, we bide our time. Raev constantly checks her parent's online status while we talk, sharing more stories from our time apart.

Fantom tells us about evading the DgS when she first logged-out from DangerWar 2, setting up her new account and bouncing around NextWorld for a few months. She soon realized her hopes for a career had become monumentally more difficult and would only serve to endanger her anonymity. She hung out more and more with the hackers in the DOTnet underground, meeting a few like-minded people that were trying to make NextWorld a better place, a place where people could be safe
and
free.

I find myself nodding along as Fantom's speech about the freedom of information turns into Raev and Xen comparing it to their own quest to expose the truth of Omniversalism's corruption. The idealism of all three of them is contagious. Why am I finding myself so swept away by everyone's grandeur? Is it because they're so secure with their place in life while I'm lost once again, displaced from my home? Am I just reaching for anything that will stop my fears from sweeping me away?

As their heated conversation continues, I try to make myself more comfortable. I open up my avatar design screen and start tweaking variables. I've felt awkward being inside someone else's form ever since I logged-in.

The first thing I do is change my height. I'm eighteen now, but even if I don't feel that old, I've never felt as young as this avatar makes me appear. I don't have time to design a whole bump-map for the flesh or do any kind of original shading, so I reluctantly choose something from the default choices. I feel better, even if I look like someone who spends all their time in DOTcom on a paid-advertisement account.

As my avatar changes, Fantom glances over at me and asks, “What are you doin'?”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to choose from the starter sets of t-shirts and pants that come with everyone's account. “Trying to feel like myself again.”

She rolls her eyes. “I'm
not
travelin' around NextWorld with a basic avatar. Here.” She swipes her hand toward me and my screen changes from a handful of choices and a limited color wheel, to thousands of different items, clothing options, and body parts in a million different colors. “Pick somethin' better than...
that
. Please.”

While I'm amazed at the offerings, I have to ask, “Did you steal these?”

She rolls her eyes again and I can't help wondering if she has that expression programmed as a loop on her avatar or if she reserves it especially for me.

“Steal? I don't
steal
. I'm not a thief.”

“You're a hacker.”

“I'm also a cracker, a phracker, and a sneaker. And I'm the girl that saved you from a life devoid of digital communications. Remember?”

“I'm just saying... these look expensive. Really expensive. And you said it yourself: You don't pay for anything.”

“I don't pay for stuff because it's just data. Ones and zeroes. Like everythin' else in NextWorld.”

“That's stealing. And I'm not comfortable using a stolen avatar.”

“I might be breakin' some archaic, arbitrary law that I don't agree with, but even if I wanted to pay for those items, they aren't available in North America. We only have access to the most basic virtual items, just enough to get around and do our jobs. I don't exactly see that as fair. Do you?”

“No, but-”

“Well then, you can take your 'I'm-better-than-you' attitude and shove it up your-”

“Some of these are your designs...” I say when I reach the menu labeled with her name. “These are better than the elite models they sell in NextWorld.”

Raev looks over my shoulder at the screen in front of me. “Wow. Fantom. These are great! If you sold these on DOTcom, you'd make a fortune.”

“No,” Fantom says, her face darkening with her voice. “I wouldn't.”

“A price you pay, I suppose, for using an illegal account,” Xen says with a smile.

“Even if I had a clean account,” Fantom barks back at Xen, “I'd still be forkin' over my North American reparations tax. We're only allowed to make a livin' wage. DOTgov takes the rest.”

“That's still going on?” Raev asks. “I thought that stopped a long time ago.”

Fantom mumbles to herself, “It's still goin' on because everyone who's not in North America forgets it's still goin' on.”

Raev doesn't hear her, instead pointing at a necklace and saying, “That's beautiful.”

“You're welcome to take anythin' you see. I don't care. It's just copies of copies of copies.”

I scroll through the options, admiring Fantom's attention to detail in each piece. She's wasting her talent. I decide it's okay to take some copies as long as I stick to things she made. I'm not sure why that's more acceptable to me, but it is.

After I pick the perfect pair of jeans, I choose some dusty chaps, a shirt and vest combo, a weathered and beaten trench coat, and one perfectly bent cowboy hat. I slap a five o'clock shadow on the squarest jaw I can find, bulk up my chest and arms, and choose the most intimidating pair of eyes in the menu. I feel like myself again. I feel like Arkade.

“Is that better?” Fantom asks.

“Yeah. Thank you,” I say. “Look, I'm sorry if I-”

“Don't worry about it,” she says.

“No. Listen. I didn't mean to put down what you're doing or say that just because it's illegal it's not the right thing to do. You used some of these same hacks to save me. And now you're helping me save Cyren. Without you I'd be-”

“I
know
. You'd be a total loser, yo.”

She laughs, and I join in, even though I don't find it funny... because I'm ashamed of how true it is. I'm not ashamed of being some social misfit like I assume she meant. I've been dealing with that my whole life. I'm ashamed of losing the game.

I lost. It's that simple. When the stakes were the highest, I failed at the one thing I thought I was good at. But Fantom gave me an extra life. She gave me a second chance and now all I can do is try to give Cyren the same thing.

It's a new quest in a new world and there's a new set of rules, but this time I'm going to win.

“She's out,” Raev says, closing the screen she was using to monitor her mother's online status.

“Finally,” Fantom says, wasting no time summoning her flying carpet and climbing aboard. “Just so you know, we can't be usin' this thing in DOTbiz. The security inside that domain is the strongest in NextWorld.”

“You keep saying that. I have to admit, I'm surprised you're conceding that it's too strong for the great and powerful Fantom,” I say with a smirk, taking maybe a little too much pleasure in finding the chink in her armor.

“You wish, Cowboy.” Once we're all on the carpet, she yanks on the front and rockets into the sky, leaving DOTgod behind. “DOTbiz has the credits to do pretty much anythin' they want with their security. But even if I wanted to write a bypass algorithm for whatever measures they paid for, it'd be stupid to attract that much attention to the bandwidth usage this flyin' carpet needs. We're goin' to use somethin' a little more... standard.”

Diving toward DOTbiz, a recognizable fear stretches out its cold fingers in my direction. I've always dreaded the fact that I'd probably end up here. There was no way I'd follow my father into DOTgov, and I knew if I didn't figure out some other plan, I'd be doomed to live out my days here in DOTbiz. Another corporate entity, paid to do some menial task because I'd be cheaper than buying an NPC.