Rush to Level 0: The Game (Chapter 3)

Settlements in games were no different than cities in the world; they formed, grew to the point of bursting, then suburbanized. When Twinkle said that the marketplace was full of people, I imagined the bustle of a virtual metropolis. Instead, I found a camp. There were no houses, no impressive structures, no roads... none of the characteristics I identified of a city. A few wooden stalls were stacked on a small square of white stones, creating the appearance of a traveler’s barter spot. Two yurt-like structures stood a short distance away at the edge of a sparse forest.

“That’s it?” I asked Twinkle, hoping I’d made a mistake and gone the wrong direction.

“Sure is, Sarah!” My companion beamed.

Clearly, a major city this was not. On the other hand, maybe it was better to start small. From my position, I could see a total of five figures, all humans, about the camp. Two sat at their stalls, while the rest were lying on the grass not too far away. None of them seemed remotely dangerous, just people in simple beige brown clothes like myself.

“Shall we go there, Sarah?” Twinkle asked with unusual eagerness. “They are waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” I felt chills.

“Yes!” The cat did a flip in the air. “They said they wanted to meet you.”

“Did you talk to them?” I asked slowly, measuring every word.

“Yes! When I flew by, they saw me and asked if I was lost,” he replied, smiling widely as if he’d received a gold star at school. “They told me to bring you here.”

What’s wrong with you?!

This didn’t seem like a random bug. AI companions had a whole range of logic algorithms ensuring that they only provided information to registered users. After the last time Twinkle got hacked by my information broker, I had Jeff beef its protection so that no one else would have that chance.

“Do you want me to tell them you’re here?” Twinkle spun around.

There was no need. The group already knew. As I was looking, one of them—a bulky man with a blond beard—waved at me acknowledging he had noticed. Despite the screams of every self-preservation instinct inside me, I waved back.

“Twinkle, be ready to log out when I say,” I whispered, starting toward the market. “And don’t talk to people you don’t know.”

It would have been nice having a weapon, or even a set of mid-tier skills. A lot still didn’t make sense. I tried a few of the basic attack shortcuts, hoping to get some sort of response, but nothing happened. The game either was using an alternative control scheme or simply didn’t have specials. Thinking back, the elf maiden had mentioned I had to stop using game skills during my Vesperia quest. Maybe this was what she had meant.

“Salutations, newbie,” the man with the beard greeted as I got near. He had a slightly foreign accent, possibly European. “Welcome to the game.”

“Thanks.” I nodded. He seemed suspiciously nice, almost as if he were an NPC.

“John Smith at your service,” he added with a theatrical bow.

“Saraphim,” I said, giving my gamer handle. The remaining people shot me a quick glance, but said nothing.

“They’re new.” The man crossed his arms with a smile. “Still getting a feel of the place, just like you. I’ve seen it before. Give it a few days and you’ll become best friends. Maybe you’ll even form a group together. Some of the best friendships start here... or so is claimed.”

Looking at the people around, I had my doubts. All had clothes identical to mine, but that was where the similarities ended. They were far younger than myself—if the avatars were an indication—visibly shaken, but trying to hide it behind disinterest. Furthest away, a skinny girl sat on the ground drawing something in the soil with a crude knife. Two black-haired boys were at the stands, pretending to play some sort of game with marbles, while a third stood quietly at the edge of the square looking at the sky.

“Where is this?” I asked “John”.

“Somewhere and nowhere,” he said, going back to his theatrical voice. “No, actually this is the newbie zone. Most of you lot pop up here. It doesn’t happen too often, mind. Once every few years. Normally, it’s just one or two gaming the system, but now we have ourselves an event. Ain’t that grand, right?”

“Sure.” I nodded. His accent seemed slightly over the top, but there was no way to tell whether he was faking it or not. “So, you’re the welcoming committee?”

“The one and only. I’m here to give you a helping hand before you start. Just remember, all decisions depend on you.”

All decisions depend on me. Kyle had said something similar. I still had no idea what it meant.

“Are you always this vague?” I felt Twinkle land on my head. It was rare that he did that. Suppressing a sigh, I took him off and held him with both hands as if he were a real cat. John Smith smiled. “Do I get a map or something?”

“‘Fraid not. Maps are one of those things you gave to make on your own.” His smile shrunk. If this was a person, he was pretty bad at handling emotions. “People will be willing to trade you lots of stuff if you make one. Just be careful what you get. If it be me, I’d go for items. Much cleaner that way.”

“How about directions to town?” I scratched Twinkle behind the ear. He purred.

“There are no towns,” the boy at the square’s edge suddenly said. He had one of those unusually long faces that easily set him apart in a crowd. “No towns, no maps, no directions.” His eyes flickered a deep green. Of the entire avatar they were the only thing that looked unnatural.

“Then why are you still here?” Curiosity made me glance at the other people’s faces. It didn’t take long for me to notice the obvious: their eyes were identically green. Four different realistically sculpted avatars with the same eyes... game design theory had a name for that—deliberate contrast. Most often it was used to make things obvious to the mass players, making sure they interacted with the correct quest item, could see the dropped loot, and so on. Going by that logic, green was supposed to be the marker for in-game ally, but was it the same in this game?

I looked back at our so-called guide. His eyes were standard brown, not in the least bit special.

“What can you tell me?” I asked. If this was a riddle, it had to be a simple one.

“Anything you ask,” came the answer. “As long as it’s about the game. Mind you, information comes at a price.”

This was becoming like twenty questions. I could have asked what the currency was or how to get it, or any of a dozen questions used in standard game tutorials. Instead, I triggered the emergency logout shortcut. This time when the window popped open, I chose to confirm.

The world collapsed into a single dot, ejecting me into reality. A screen message appeared, warning me that the company is not responsible for lost data resulting from emergency exit. I ignored it and took off my gear.

“Are you okay, Sarah?” Twinkle asked from my phone. “You disconnected without warning.”

“It’s fine,” I lied. I wasn’t supposed to be there.

It was a mistake. I left my rig and curled in the corner of my room. In the past, I would sleep inside, sometimes taking advantage of the in-game sleep experience system. The thought filled me with dread.

“How long before work?” I asked.

“You have to leave in three hours and twenty-seven minutes if you want to catch the early shift,” Twinkle replied in his usual cheer.

Three hours? That didn’t seem right. “Twinkle, how long was I logged on?”

“You were playing for three minutes and eleven seconds, Sarah.”

That was wrong. “Show me a replay.” I had spent at least twenty minutes to the camp, maybe slightly more. That meant that, at the very least, the game had compressed time five times, realistically more like ten, which was the complete opposite to when I had connected without my gear.

So that’s what the elf meant when she told me to log on through my rig. Playing the game would be impossible otherwise, though in that case why did the option even exist?

“Twinkle, send a message to Jeff that I’ll be there for the early shift.” I stood up. There was no point in going back to sleep now, even if I could.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I don’t have a valid password for your phone account,” the sad voice said.

Of course, you don’t. Nothing like the annoyance of adjusting account settings after a crisis to make a day complete.

I spent the next half hour updating Twinkle and setting up all his previous connections. The process felt annoyingly long, but it kept my mind off the game. Every now and again, I’d come across an old message or notification that would trigger a memory that would make me think of the game once more. My knee jerk reaction was to delete it and continue tinkering with Twinkle’s settings. It worked the first few times, but curiosity kept slowly eating at me, until I reached a mail I could not delete.

Hey, Sarah, I found out something. Meet up at Bent Cliffs?

FlickerFlacker

The mail was the last thing sent to my dummy game account. Somehow, I had managed to miss it in the chaos of the trial’s last day. Back then, I was so determined to get the clues together and complete the quest, naively thinking it would mark the end of my problems.

FlcikerFlacker was some online kid who had sought me out to form a team. I could tell he was rich, probably stumbled on the game from boredom, and utterly incapable of completing it on its own. We had made something like a pack back then; he was going to use his resources to buy as many clues as he could, and I was going to use my gamer skills to find the answer of the riddle before the time limit. It was an okay plan that worked relatively well, until it didn’t. A day before I solved the riddle, Flicker disappeared, his Vesperia account purged without a trace. He had sent me a dozen mails wanting to see me in-game, wanting to talk. Back then, I had been dealing with serious problems of my own, so I ignored him. After that, it had been too late.

I put my phone on the ground and leaned back. What had happened to Flicker? From what I had seen, those who tried to enter the game and failed tended to either commit suicide or end up in mental institutions. The dark web broker I had dealings with said as much, sugarcoating it with the vague phrase “gone off the grid.” Right now, I had hoped he was wrong.

“Are you okay, Sarah?” Twinkle asked, probably triggered by my recent lack of input. “Do you want me to play some music?”

“No, Twinkle.” I sighed. “Check for upgrades.”

“Sure thing, Sarah!”

Almost two hours remained till my shift. In a world where all entertainment was on the web, that seemed like eternity. As much as I wanted to listen to music or watch something silly on my phone, I feared it might drag me back in the game.

The seconds passed slowly. An hour before the start of the shift, I could take it no longer. I put on my work uniform, had a quick snack—vitamin juice and protein bars—then left my apartment. The night was heavy with the smell of ozone and chemicals. So much for the city’s latest attempts to improve air quality by allowing the construction of waste disposal plants in the outskirts. The prediction was for things to get slightly worse before they got better, an excuse that had become fashionable in governing circles. According to Jeff, in this case, they were somewhat right, but that didn’t stop me from having to use a mask every other day.

As I walked through the empty streets, a figure with a neon rosary round his neck caught my eye. Even from this distance I could tell he was a follower of saint Jeremy. The techno cult had rented an office in my neighborhood recently, making sights like this common. From my experience so far, they seemed like a harmless bunch compared to some of the others, though that didn’t stop me from disliking them. Quickly, I rushed to the other side of the street. The cultist must have gotten the hint, for he didn’t attempt to approach me when we got near.

“Praise Saint Jeremy,” he said as he passed by.

The store was closed when I arrived, as were all the others on the street. With over forty minutes to go before opening, there was a while before anyone showed up. Normally, employers had their workers “voluntarily” arrive half an hour early to set up things before the official start of the work day. With luck, Jeff would get here soon enough. I was tempted to send him a text telling him I was already here, but decided against it after what had happened yesterday. Hopefully, a smile and a kiss would take care of that.

“Congrats on the first day,” a voice said a few steps away. Looking up, I saw Kyle standing across the street, clapping. “It took me a week to come to terms with what was going on. I remember staring at a point in the horizon for hours until reality slowly crept in. You did much better. Then again, you’ve had months to adjust.”

He made a step towards me, looking around at the buildings as he did.

“This brings back memories.” He nodded a few times. “The pay was crap, but the people were fun. All the good times Jeff, you, and I used to have.” He smiled. “Good times, right?”

“What do you want, Kyle?” My adrenaline had shot through the roof, making me feel my heartbeats at the back of my head.

“To help you, what else?” He stopped in the middle of the street. “You always needed help figuring out things. This time, it’s not like before. I can’t help you all the way.”

“You keep saying that, but you’re still here.” I wished I had something to use as a weapon.

“I’m not allowed to help freely in the game. You must either pay for information or discover it on your own.”

“Thanks for the insight. I’ll try to remember that.”

“System rules are the only exception.” His smile widened into a grin. “The game still has an interface, although it’s very different from the online jokes you used to play. Once you find that interface, tap on it. Something will happen.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” As if I was going to trust anything he said again.

“Don’t be like that.” His smile faltered. So, there is something you’re touchy about.

“Firestarter did everything possible to keep me from joining, Legion tried to scare me off, the elf chick tricked me into a deal I’ll likely regret.” I was talking louder now, my words echoing in the street. “But you, you just show up and help me. What do you get out of it?”

“I have my reasons.” Kyle shrugged. “Though I doubt it’s what you think.”

“Please, tell me what I think.” I would have been a bit more intimidating if I had anything I could use as a weapon. If this were a virtual game, I would have taken my chances and charged him. In real life, though, there was no respawn.

Kyle stared at me for a few seconds. I expected him to snap back or threaten me; I was even prepared to start running if he made a go at me. That never happened. His facial features slowly softened, returning to his usual mix of smugness and cockiness.

“Maybe some other time.” He began walking in the direction of the intersection. “See you around.”

“No, you won’t!” I shouted, my arms trembling.

“You will,” he laughed.

Damn it! It was the same thing all over again. Now that I had set foot in the game, Kyle was going to keep stalking me again, pressuring me to go back in. The worst part was that there was nothing I could do. He had made a point to show what he was capable of; one time, he had deliberately walked in front of a patrol car amid traffic just to prove a point. I had thought I was so lucky back then, imagining him being taken away under charges of public endangerment, potential loss of property disruption, and engaging the law. Instead, Kyle had looked the officer in the eye and made him give us a business card each. There had been no threats, no bribes, no hints, just a smile and a suggestion from his part.

Jeff arrived less than a minute later. Granting me a silent glance and a nod, he went right for the store to open up. Clearly, he still was mad about yesterday.

“Hey,” I said, taking the first step. In his state, there was no point in mentioning Kyle. “How are things?”

“Fine,” he replied, not even looking at me. I hated that level of pettiness, especially coming from him. “How was your night?”

“Boing,” I lied. “At least, I did what had to be done.”

“Good.” He opened the door. “Let’s set up.”

We spent the next five minutes hardly saying a word. Every now and again, I’d make an attempt to spark a conversation by pretending to ask some work-related question. Each time, Jeff would look at me in semi-pouty fashion and reply with little more than a single word before going back to passive-aggressively ignoring me. I hated such methods. Even if it were my fault, he was overdoing it. If it were anyone else, I would have shouted my head off. Rage didn’t sit well with Jeff, so I gritted my teeth and went for the second-best thing.

“Sorry about yesterday,” I said softly. “It wasn’t only the application forms. I’m going through some stuff and—”

“You entered the game, didn’t you?” Jeff cut me short. I felt blocks of ice forming in my stomach. How stupid was I to think he wouldn’t find out? A few months back, he had promised not to monitor my online activity. If someone I cared about was in trouble, I’d break my word without a second thought.

“It’s complicated.” I turned away. All I had to do was to tell him about Kyle, and Jeff would surely forgive me. Just three little words—Kyle came back—and things would be back to normal. Yet, I couldn’t do it. “I need to know what it was about.” I paused a few seconds, waiting for a response. When none came, I went on. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You could have told me,” Jeff said though his teeth. “Instead you came up with that bullshit about—” He slammed his hand without warning on the desk before him. This was the first time he had done anything of the sort. “I just...” He shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t want to be a jerk, but you chose a really bad time to go rogue.”

Okay, so I’m not the only one who had problems. “Your sister again?” I moved closer, placing my hand on his shoulder. Jeff rarely spoke about his family. The first I had learned of her was when he had asked me to take over a shift so he could take her to the hospital.

“Yeah.” He sighed. As nice as Jeff was, his sister was twice that in the opposite direction. I had only met her a few times, but she had made it very clear she disliked me. Also, she was incredibly spoilt. “She ran out again.”

And I did the same. I finished the unspoken sentence.

“You’re really involved with the game again?”

“To a degree.” I felt him place his hand on mine. “Can you check out Twinkle?” I changed the subject. “I powered him up yesterday, but he’s been acting a bit weird. It’s probably just an update, but I want to be sure no one’s messed with him.”

“First thing during lunch break.” Jeff smiled. I could tell it was forced. “Anything else? I’ve some beta security protos. Perfect for most common variety sniffers, and some of the heavy stuff. It’ll take me ten minutes to upgrade your rig.”

“Okay.” I smiled, even if he was being obvious. “Tonight after work?”

“Tonight’s good.” There was a note of surprise in his voice, as if he had been sure I’d turn him down. “Maybe just give me a few hours? I need to do something.” He moved closer. “It’s work related.”

I knew exactly which “work” he meant, so I nodded.

The day started hectically as usual. Fifteen minutes before the opening time, a small queue had formed to take advantage of our discount policy. Normally, we’d have a few hundred people pass during morning rush, but over the last week, the number had tripled. Most came for a quick hardware clean—the most common service—then rushed off to their day jobs. I smiled and engaged in the standard small talk with customers during work, though my thoughts remained on the game. One thing that Kyle was right about—the game was like a drug. As much as I feared it, I yearned for it more.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

Damn it!

I forced a smile to hide the inconvenience. We weren’t allowed to have our phones on during work. I had adjusted the settings to my normal phone to block any calls and messages until break-time, but I had forgotten to do the same with my Twinkle-phone. At least my AI companion had analyzed the situation adequately, going into silent mode.

“I need to check the supplies.” I turned to Jeff, using the store code for wanting a bathroom break.

“Get some mint scent cleaner while you’re at it,” he responded.. “I’m running a bit low.”

Finishing with my customer, I gave a quick apology to the next in line and rushed into the employees’ section of the store. The bathroom section was small—the absolute minimum the law allowed—two rooms, each precisely a square meter in size, with a wall toilet facing the door. I went inside and locked the door behind me.

This had better not get me in trouble. I took out my phone. I had no intention of reading the message, but rather to change the settings to not receive more in the future. Seeing an empty sender and subject box changed my mind. Taking a deep breath, I tapped on it.

Glad you’re back, Sarah. Let’s meet.

-Claire