The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point (22 page)

“I'll be fine.”

I don't want to admit the truth. I don't want to admit how scared I am of the real world. I don't want to admit how frightened I am of leaving my virtual existence again. I don't want to feel the cold of the tower room. I don't want to face the harsh glare of the artificial sunlight. I don't want to see my real face looking back at me in the reflective screen above the sink. But most of all, I'm afraid that if I leave, I won't be able to come back.

It's not logical. Fantom has assured me that she has everything under control. She assured me that Ekko's tower room is perfectly safe. Her algorithms and protocol bypasses divert my signal in so many directions that tracing my actions would be like finding a needle in a haystack of needles. None of this means that my fear disappears.

I watch Xen slide some more pills between his lips. His eyelids become heavier and heavier, slowly shutting as his head rests against Raev's shoulder.

“Do you think it's a good idea for him to be downloading so many of those apps?”

The question startles her. She glances down at Xen's face and smiles.

“Just look at him.”

“I am. He looks... sick.”

She runs her hand lightly across his cheek.

“No,” she says. “He looks calm. You didn't see what he was like... before. It's like you said, his mind was broken when he died in that game. He suffered from nightmares and panic attacks every day. If the pills help him...”

“Downloading inebriation software isn't going to cure him of anything. It's just making him weaker.”

She looks uncomfortable, like I'm challenging something she's not ready to face.

“You think I don't want him to get better? You think I don't want him to think clearly again? You think I don't want to look into his eyes and see the man I fell in love with?”

At first, I can't help connect the dots to Cyren. This new Cyren that I'm trying to save. It feels like what Raev is describing is so similar to what I'm afraid of happening to Cyren. Is the virus that stole her from me any different than the apps that Xen is downloading? They've both changed the people we love into unrecognizable faces.

But Cyren didn't choose that virus. Every time Xen puts one of those things in his mouth, there's a moment he can still be saved.

“I don't know what to do,” she continues. “The church needs him too. We've been relying on prerecorded sermons for longer than I care to admit. Our congregation is shrinking every day because there's nothing new. They want
him
to lead,
his
words,
his
music.” She shakes her head, rethinking her sentence. “But Metaversalism teaches us to support our partner, even when they fall.”

“You aren't supporting him. You're letting him lay on the ground.”

“I'm respecting his choice,” she says and I can see the anger in her eyes. “Reality is too much for him right now. It's too hard. He made a choice to escape.” Her eyes flash at me like darts. “Didn't
he
support
you
when you made the same choice?”

“I wasn't-”

Before I can reply, a bell rings above us. Xen's eyes flash open and he sits up straight, searching for the source of the noise. The auctioneer floats down and opens a screen with a number on it.

“You've received a bid for 265,000 credits!”

“Accept!” I shout.

Xen slaps his palm against the accept button on the screen.

“Congratulations on your successful auction. Would you like to participate in a quick survey to help improve our services?”

Fantom yanks on the front of the carpet and we lift off, zooming over the heads of the auctioneers and firing through the exit, into the glossy, flashy domain of DOTcom. We skim between two animated billboards featuring competing dating services and turn toward DOTnet.

I want to keep arguing with Raev, to make her understand, but I push it away. There will be time for that later. I'll help Xen and fix everything once Cyren is safe.

It only takes a few minutes for us to reach DOTnet, but I'm counting every second. My anxiety tries to push the carpet faster, closer to our goal.

She's so close.

We enter the sewers underneath the domain and our carpet slides into the tunnels. Fantom opens up a screen and sends a simple audio-cast to Worlok.

“We got your credits.”

It takes a few panic-inducing seconds, but he finally responds with a teleport. The tunnel drops away and his surrealist hacker house slams into view. We're standing in a room that twists as you look further into it. Worlok is standing dead center.

“I'm impressed,” he says, slapping me on the back even though he's in front of me. “You must be an awfully good gamer to get that many Koins in a few hours.”

“I don't have time to talk about how impressed you are.” I swipe my hand across my inventory and toss the credits into a trade screen. “Just take your credits and give us the doorway.”

“Sorry, but it's not that easy. I can't just hand you a doorway and expect you to turn the knob. This is a serious hack, and unless you've got the time to spend learning my program, I'll have to lead you through.”

I glance at Fantom, unsure if this is normal or not. I figure she can see through his lies better than I can. She nods at me, confirming the need for his assistance, but she doesn't look happy about it.

“Good,” he says and even without an actual face, I can hear his smile in his voice. He's excited by what's about to happen. “First, you're all going to need key markers in your inventory to let the program know you have access to the entry point.”

He pulls something from his inventory and opens his hand, offering us a small pile of keys. We all step forward and pick up one of the antique looking objects. They're made of a tarnished iron, with an intricate design at the top. I spin mine around upright to see it better. The iron work wraps around itself, creating a logo with two question marks back to back.

Just like the logo printed on the virus.

I lunge for Worlok. My arms thrust out like grappling hooks, reaching for his neck. He doesn't flinch. This is his world. The vertigo of the room throws me to the side. The gravity of the ceiling slams me upward.

I should have known better, but I'm not thinking straight. I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to hurt anymore. I want to act.

“What are you doin', yo?” Fantom steps between me and Worlok as I climb back to my feet.

“It was his virus that deleted the game.” The words burn inside my throat. Tears, like hot acid, run from my eyes. My head is swimming. “He killed her.”

I leap at him again, but this time Fantom stops me. With one hand she snatches me from the air, her fingers wrapping around my throat.

“You're actin' crazy, yo. Worlok is our only chance of savin' her.”

“This is
his
fault!” I'm trying to scream through my crying, “That symbol! Those question marks. That's his logo. That's what he puts on his apps, right?”

“Hackers like to leave their mark,” Fantom says, oddly quiet. “At least the arrogant ones.”

“It was on the virus,” I growl, my eyes burning white hot hate into Worlok. “He made it. He created the thing that took her away from me.”

Fantom sets me down, but she holds up a single finger in front of my face, telling me to stop. Worlok crosses his arms and leans against a wall, as if he's bored by my accusations. Fantom glances at him, but he offers her nothing other than a shrug of his shoulders. If he had a mouth, I'd kick in every one of his teeth.

“I take it you haven't told him your role in all of this?” Worlok says, his faceless head turning toward Fantom.

She's staring at the floor with a look that I've never seen her make. It's shame.

“What's he talking about?” Xen asks.

“Yes, Fantom,” Worlok says, allowing a grin to appear on his face. “What
am
I talking about?”

My mouth is hanging open, waiting for her silence to end.

“I had to save you,” she mumbles.

My voice is low and steady when I ask, “What do you mean? What did you do?”

She flashes Worlok a look of anger.

I grab a hold of her arm.

“What did you do?”

“It started with the parent groups. They were protestin' your entrapment in the world. They didn't think it was right what DOTgov was doin'. They were startin' to question whether DOTfun was safe for their own children. Normally that stuff gets lost in DOTorg. No one pays attention. But the gamer news-casts were still interested in you. Still interested in your story. People started askin' questions. Too many questions.”

She pulls her arm from my grip. “I read the files in DOTgov, I listened to the conversations. When you fell into the coma, they ran out of excuses. They were going to pull the plug, yo.”

She points her finger in my face. “You saved my life! I couldn't just sit back and watch them kill you.”

I'm unable to catch up to the truth. My lips try to form words, but I only mumble, “You killed her.”

“No. I didn't. What I did was choose to save you first. She's still alive, Cowboy. I'm goin' to save both of you.”

“You put that virus in our world and you-”

“Actually, the virus was
my
idea,” Worlok brags. “When Cyren came to me for help, I wasn't sure it was possible to get you out. But I knew that if I completely deleted the game world, there would be nothing left to interface with your nanomachines. They'd be able to do a cold reboot of your E-Womb without anything to cause feedback. There would be nothing interacting with you to fry your brain. Course, then I had to find a way to get the virus inside the game world. Every stream between DangerWar2 and NextWorld was locked down... until you requested that video-cast. Like a Trojan horse, I hid the worm inside the stream and... ” He flashes me a smile. “...ta da! Here you are.”

I burst toward him, my fists flinging and lashing out in a crazy swirl of psychotic violence. I'm losing it, my emotions are exploding and I have no way to contain them. But while we're inside his private site, Worlok doesn't even need to move. I'm thrown to the floor immediately.

“You killed her,” I say, weeping into the wood floor. “You destroyed the most important thing in the world to me.”

He turns to Fantom, deciding I'm not worth trying to communicate with. Fantom nods to him and leans down next to me.

“DOTgov was done makin' excuses to the media. They were done tryin' to convince parents that NextWorld was safe for their kids. They were goin' to shut down the game world
and
your mind. I didn't have any other choice.”

I feel betrayed. My emotions are so overwhelming that I can't look at anything logically. I'm hearing what Fantom is saying, and I'm sure a part of me knows that she isn't the enemy. What she did was the best option in a lose/lose scenario. But I'll never admit that risking Cyren's life for my own was the right choice, even though Cyren made the same choice.

“You don't have to forgive me, Cowboy. But you're goin' to need my help if you want to get her back.”

“If what you've told me is true,” Worlok says, “and these NPCs are actually capable of learning, than they belong in NextWorld anyway, not trapped in some game.”

Raev sets her hand on my shoulder. “Think about what Cyren will be able to accomplish in NextWorld.”

I don't care if it's better. I want everything to be back to the way it was. I want the Cyren I knew back. I want her to love me again.

Xen touches my other shoulder and says, “Metaversalism teaches us that we can't go back, we can't change the past. We can only change the future. We need to move forward and choose the right actions in order to secure our vision of the life we want.”

I'm worried about my own ability to rationalize when Xen starts making sense. But he's right, of course. It's tempting to lose myself in memories. I want to close my eyes and dream of her again, next to me, her black lips smiling, but I don't have time for that. I don't have time to get lost in this ache that's threatening to take me over. I need to act. I need to complete my quest.

I straighten my cowboy hat, slide my fingers across the brim, and with a deep breath, I reboot my mind. I put my emotions where they can't hurt me and lock my brain back on to the task at hand. I step up closer to Worlok and Fantom. Everyone jerks, expecting me to lash out again. But I don't. If I've learned anything, it's that I need to accept the help that someone else can offer me. I can't play solo.

“I need your help.” It may be the hardest thing I've ever said. Right or wrong doesn't matter to me right now. Only her. Only Cyren. “But if this doesn't work, if anything happens to her...”

Worlok silently accepts the terms of my halfhearted peace offering. He pulls his long white hair behind his faceless head and cracks every one of his knuckles.

“Let's hack.”

It's the last thing I care to admit, but I can see why Fantom thinks Worlok might be the best hacker in NextWorld. Deep in the cavernous tunnels below DOTnet, he maneuvers through menus with both hands like he's conducting an orchestra. Dual-wielding programs, he assesses and exploits vulnerabilities in the security with simple gestures, flicking wrists and twisting fingers in a digital dance. There's a driven passion to his movements, but I can tell that he loves every second of it.

Fantom assists him, throwing out her own attacks, trying to break through the shielding that protects the wires and tubes that line the tunnel. It doesn't take long for the outer shell to fade away, pixel by pixel. As it does, I can see the raw data flowing through the pipe.

“There's our ride,” Worlok says.

“I'll bounce our signal,” Fantom says. “But from here on out, we won't be as protected as we have been. If the DgS catch us in here, it's all over, yo.”

I look at Xen and Raev, ready to relinquish them from all their responsibilities of following me inside, but Xen holds up his hand and pops another Dizzy Fizz.

“Don't you dare say a word,” he says. “We're going to see this through to the end.”

Raev shrugs her shoulders. “For better or worse, I'm going to follow my partner. No matter what.”