Rush to Level 0: The Game (Chapter 1)

According to official statistics, more than seventeen hundred people were said to have joined techno sects each month. The real numbers were at least five times as much. At my work, three had quit in the last quarter alone. The reasons given were different, but the approach was always the same: two days of sudden absence, followed by a single email announcing they had found “their true calling and had gone to live a happier life.”

I had gotten a similar message at the start of my shift. When it popped up, I wasn’t even surprised. One of my co-workers had been missing for a few days, forcing me to cover her shifts. Everyone had laughed and joked that she might have entered a sect. Now we knew it had really happened. The saddest thing of all was that I couldn’t tell if she had gotten the better deal.

“Opening in two minutes,” Jeff said. “Get your uniforms straight and be sure to smile.”

I would have groaned if I weren’t so exhausted. Four early shifts in a row had that effect, especially with the personnel shortage. For the last three weeks, I had been forced to take a double shift every second day. Technically, it was illegal to have me work so much, but as the saying went, “for every law, there’s a loophole.” With robotization taking over the service industry, lobbyists had successfully argued that a person had the right to work for survival. Translated to reality, that meant employers could offer an unspecified amount of “bonus” hours at a ten percent premium.

“And check the device series. New models get a quarter discount. ”

Jeff typed in the daily shift report on the work terminal, then went to open the door. Passing by, he gave me a slight smile, stopping short of winking. At this point, it wouldn’t have mattered. Everyone at the store knew we were close. Friends with benefits was the term, although at present it was more friends than benefits. Jeff had hinted a few times that he was okay if we went official, but I had refused. My life was complicated as it was. For one thing, Jeff wasn’t merely some low life loser stuck as a shift manager at a hardware cleaning store. Despite his goofy appearance, he was a dark web hacker who made more in a month than the store’s yearly profit margin. We never discussed exact numbers, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was able to buy the store outright if he wanted to. Either that, or hack the official registry records and place it under his name.

Three minutes to four, the store was officially open. It was unlikely we’d get customers for at least an hour, but with profit margins so low, the store owners had resorted to anything to gain an advantage, which meant additional unpaid work. If I didn’t need this job, I’d have left months ago.

“So,” Jeff asked once he’d come back to his workspot. “Any plans for tonight?”

With him being my boss and my friend, I was never sure where the question would lead—it could be a surprise date or an extra shift. Or, since Jeff was Jeff, it could be both.

“Filling in transfer forms,” I quickly replied. “The uni administration is coming up with all sorts of crap.”

“You’re changing majors?” Jeff gave me a disapproving look. “Didn’t you ace your last semester?”

Strictly speaking, he was right. I had received top marks on all my subjects a few months ago. I had achieved that, though, not through any effort of my own, but through administrative error. Nowadays, most online universities had an auto-pass policy, which meant that if an exam was flawed through any fault of the university, everyone involved got an automatic A in the respective course. The method endured that students remained happy and enlisted, requiring that they continued to pay the huge education fee. In my case, the error was due to dark web involvement sending me a warning. The university had never caught on, but I had received the message loud and clear.

“Maybe some other day,” I whispered back, while the rest of our co-workers pretended to be checking their cleaning equipment.

“Sure.” Jeff’s smile faded, his look shouting “tell me if you’re in trouble.”

“It’s just bureaucratic nonsense,” I lied. My plans for tonight had nothing to do with university forms. “I’ll survive.”

“Well, if you change your mind...”

“I know.” I also knew he would disapprove if I told him what I’d really be doing.

The entrance bell rang, announcing the first customer of the day. When the store owner had decided to remodel the store two months back, he had gone for a deep retro-nostalgic look. By his standards that meant buying a lot of cheap crap from web-auction sites—CDs, typewriter keys, scratched vinyl—and plastering it on the walls. I thought it stupid, but it had become a topic of conversation, so it seemed to have worked.

The standard day activity began: a trickle of early shifters wanting to get their wearable devices cleaned before the day’s rush. As six o’clock approached, the trickle grew to a steady flow, then a flood. Queues waited impatiently at every workstation as we cleaned the devices, lifting dirt and algae outside and within. Every now and again, there would be someone with an older model, requiring special assistance and often managerial involvement. The madness continued up until nine, at which point the work crowd gave way to the local regulars who came mostly to chat. By noon, the process would start all over again.

Around two, after the second crowd of the day had gone, I was allowed to spend fifteen minutes for lunch. In the past, we’d go out with Jeff and a few of the others to grab something from the fast food places across the street. Lately, though, we had settled on takeout.

“What do you feel like?” Jeff looked at me. “There’s a new place that does really good fried plankton.”

“Sounds good.” Half my diet was plankton and protein bars. I passive-aggressively despised them. “I’ll take a small, not feeling hungry today.”

I glanced at my phone. Three new messages had passed my spam filters, all of them marked urgent. Two were from my parents, asking why I hadn’t been reachable for the past few months. I skimmed through the contents and replied with a quick “I’m fine, just busy” before deleting them entirely. The third message had no subject or sender, just a single line of text in the body: The Game is waiting.

Why can’t you let me go? I deleted the message and hid my phone.

“Everything okay?” Jeff asked. He had the annoying ability of sensing when something was wrong. We’d had many talks on the matter, including a few shouting sessions on my part.

“Nothing serious,” I lied. “Parents being annoying.”

Jeff looked me in the eye for a few moments, then shook his head.

“Swan, handle the shift for a minute,” he said to one of the more energetic newbies. “We’ll wait for our lunch in the back.” He gestured for me to go on in front of him.

For everyone, this seemed to be the start of a lover’s quarrel. I could see snide smiles appearing on everyone’s face as they pretended to look away. Jeff had stopped smiling. I knew instantly that he was serious.

“I think I’ll pass on lunch,” I said, taking off my accessory belt. “I’m feeling a bit down, so I’ll put in for a sick day, just in case.”

“Sarah...” Anger and concern mixed in Jeff’s voice.

“No point in getting everyone sick.” I forced a smile. “Besides, I have to start using my overtime hours.” At this point, I wasn’t even sure I had any, but it was a safe bet to say I did. “I promise to text you if things get worse.”

Three months ago, I would never have dared to be so demanding. After the experiences I’d been through, it seemed almost natural. Jeff stood there, staring at me like a marble statue. The manager part of his mind screamed for me to stay till the end of my shift, but the part that was my friend wanted me to go. I broke the impasse by tapping his shoulder, then left before he could say a word. When, ten seconds later, I didn’t get a ping on my phone, I knew he had let it slide. Another ten seconds later, I texted him.

Sorry. Don’t know what came over me. I wrote.

A courier brushed my shoulder dashing past just as I was about to tap send.

“Watch it!” I gripped my phone. My voice was drowned out by the noise of the crowd, completely unnoticed by the courier who zig-zagged through the crowd on his rollerblades. “Idiot!” I hissed.

No matter how lousy a day was, there was always something in Ludlum that could make it worse. If I had the money, I’d gladly move closer to one of the gated zones. At least then, I—

A sudden chill pierced me like a nose ring. Static crawled over my skin as time slowed down to a crawl. The people in the crowd became like puppets, walking on their invisible paths, moving slower and slower until stopping completely.

Not now! I tried to scream, but the words never left my lips. All the colors of the city faded away until nothing but grey remained.

I tried to move, but my limbs were frozen like pictures on a paper book. The only thing I could do was watch without the option to look away.

Four of the building-sized LED billboards flickered. The ads on them dissolved into a cloud of static as a word appeared on each one: The. Game. Is. Waiting.

Wait it out. I told myself.

I tried to calm my breathing. All I had to do was concentrate until the effects wore off and I regained control of reality.

It can’t harm me.

More words appeared, filling the remaining space with black letters in hundreds of fonts. All were shouting the same thing. In my present state, I could almost hear them screaming, urging me to connect online, making the LED panels blacker and blacker with every second. The words became so saturated that they lost all distinction. Then, just as the billboards were about to become completely back, reality returned to normal. I was on the pavement, surrounded by people rushing along in their everyday lives. One bumped into me, making me lose balance and drop to the ground.

“You okay?” someone asked.

Another seizure. I gritted my teeth. I thought I had gotten used to them, but I was wrong. There was no getting used to the feeling of complete helplessness.

“Do you want me to get help?” the person continued.

“No.” I shook my head. “I just need some—” I looked up and froze. Kyle.

“You must take better care of yourself, Sarah.” Kyle smiled. Once, I had thought his smile was cheeky, with a bit of charm. Now, I found it repulsive. Three months ago, he had worked his way into my life, pretending to be a friend. Now, I knew better. “Stubbornness is rarely healthy.”

“You should know,” I hissed.

Even after all this time, Kyle hadn’t changed a bit. The same fashionably torn up jeans, the same The End T-shirt, even the same haircut; he’d worn all those weeks ago. Of course, with him, I could never be sure. He had the ability to make people believe what they wanted. It was just as possible he had bought the clothes an hour ago, and I would never be able to tell the difference.

“I missed you.” He offered a hand for me to get up.

“I didn’t.” I stood up on my own. “Why are you here? Didn’t you say the choice was mine to make?”

“It is.” He laughed as if he were talking to a child. “I just never thought you’d remain stubborn for so long.”

“So, you’ve come to change my mind for me.” I tightened my grip on the phone. “I still won’t enter the game.”

“I know. I just came to tell you how stupid that is.” Kyle passed his fingers through his hair. For a moment, its color seemed to change from black to deep purple. “How frequent have the attacks become? Once a week?”

I didn’t reply.

“Once every three days?” He tapped his chin several times with his index finger. “One in two?”

“Drop it!” I felt myself tremble with rage. He had known about the seizures and had chosen not to tell me.

“They’ll just become more frequent if you don’t join. It’s the same with all of us. Think of it as a drug you can’t kick. You can tell yourself you don’t need it, you can pretend all you like, but in the end it won’t matter. You’ll end up going insane, then dying.”

“I’m sure you’ll be heartbroken.” I’m not believing a word you’re saying!

“It’s still your choice.” Kyle turned around. His calm demeanor irritated me to hell. Every cell in my body knew he was using me, but at the same time I couldn’t not believe him. “I just came to tell you what the result would be. Maybe you’ll make it through another month, maybe through another year, but in the end...” He shrugged. “Tell Jeff I said hi.”

Within moments, the crowd surrounded him and he was gone. I remained where I was, my heart thumping in my throat. There was no telling how long I stood like that, looking at a ghost that no longer was there. When Kyle had first disappeared, I thought it would be for good. He had made his ultimatum and I had refused. Back then, the seizures hadn’t started. I’d still receive ghost messages in my email, but those were easy to get used to. But it hadn’t just been those.

I looked at the phone. My message to Jeff was still there, waiting to be sent. It would have been easy to just phone him and explain what was going on. Even now, I preferred not to. Slowly, I tapped on the delete icon and put the phone away.

It was almost three by the time I got home. I was greeted by a sticky on the door, informing me to expect someone from city sanitation to pass by in two days. Due to the rise in value of my neighborhood, the landlord had decided to sanitize the apartments so he could bump the rent up. In my case, it didn’t matter, since I had paid two years in advance and doubled my security deposit. Considering the projected rate of inflation, there was no way he could be unhappy, though he still tried to shake me down for some other emergency bill any chance he got, under the guise of “interior renovations.” What those innovations were remained a mystery—the apartment remained the same matchbox as before: small, smelly, and undesirable. I had swapped the old sheets for a pair of new, and bought a better brand of anti-mould spray, but everything else remained as it had been... everything apart from my gaming rig—that had remained inactive ever since I had unplugged it three months ago.

The phone pinged again. Jeff had rearranged the shifts in such a way that I got to sleep in the next morning. I tossed the phone away and went to take a shower.

Kyle’s words kept echoing in my mind. Was it possible that he was telling the truth? Despite his lies, I had often felt a desire to enter the game, even before the reality seizures had started. Some nights I’d remain awake, staring at my rig, both fearing and hoping it might come back to life.

My free shower ration stopped before I knew it. For several minutes, I remained standing there, thinking, as water dripped off me. A few minutes later, I bought a second water ration and turned the shower on again. The feeling of warm water used to relax me in the past, but right now, it was making me feel worse.

Still my choice.

I walked to the bed. The diving gear was still there, covered in cheap blankets in an attempt to keep it out of my mind. I had tossed them the day I had my first reality attack. If I had any will, I would have asked Jeff to take it all away and trash it somewhere.

“Damn you!” I hissed. With one brisk motion, I pulled the blanket off my game rig. Even without power, the thing was impressive. I had spent a large part of my earnings to keep it up to date with legal or semi-legal hardware mods. Now, three months later, it had probably become ancient.

Slowly, I slid my fingers along its edge. In the past I used to enter it every day after work, and often I’d end up sleeping in it. At present, the liquid filling it had thickened, hardening like rubber; in its current state, I wouldn’t be able to enter it even if I wanted. My pulse doubled as I placed my hand on the substance’s surface, hoping it would let me through.

Maybe it’s for the better, I thought, pulling my hand away and returning to the bed. In all likelihood, the entire rig was broken, and I didn’t have the means to fix it. There was no point in me thinking what could have happened if I had entered the web. However, the desire remained. Seeing Kyle again had stirred something in my mind. I knew he was lying, but I had to make sure.

Just one glimpse, I told myself. Then I would know for certain... although there was another way. I glanced at my phone. It was quite advanced compared to the current standards, one of the only gifts I had accepted from Jeff. He had gone about the specs, and for a while I had been impressed, but that wasn’t my real phone. I had stashed the one that used to be mine after the incident. No one knew about it, not Jeff, not Kyle, not even the people online I owed favors to.

I took the battery out of my current phone, then lifted the bed’s mattress. My old phone was underneath, wrapped in a plastic bag. Once, this phone had been my life. Jeff might have managed to link my new phone to all my online accounts, but there was one thing he hadn’t transferred.

I removed the casing and clicked the battery in place. The screen flickered, then turned blue, waiting for my finger-pass. My thumb found its way onto the middle of the screen, though I didn’t press. Muscle memory could only go so far. If I went on with this, there was no telling how deep the rabbit hole might be, and still I couldn’t stop myself. My fingers tapped on the screen, staying long enough for my fingerprints to register. After the final tap, the phone came to life

Connection established, checking for updates…

Error messages popped up, informing me that I couldn’t log to any of my bank or mail accounts. I ignored them. The companion AI, though, I couldn’t ignore.

“Good evening, Sarah!” it said in a cheerful, high-pitched voice, as my phone started mass downloading updates.

“Hello, Twinkle.” A sense of nostalgia tickled my stomach. It was difficult to believe that only three months had passed since I’d last talked to him. In my mind, it seemed like years.

“I cannot connect to your financial accounts.” The image of a 3D kitten appeared on the screen, looking at me with large sad eyes. My hand trembled. I had had this companion AI since I was a child. Seeing him brought a flood of memories back. Twinkle had been with me through a lot in the virtual worlds, and not everything pleasant.

“That’s okay.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “I want you to connect me to the game.”

“Sure thing, Sarah!” The kitten beamed. “Which game do you want me to connect to? All your game profiles are accessible, but you haven’t played anything in the ninety-two days. Do you want me to search for something new?”

The same old-generation logic. He hadn’t aged well. When my parents had bought it, all AI companions had had a similar behavior. Back then, his capabilities must have seemed amazing. Today, even with a third-generation prediction upgrade, he seemed no better than a helper script.

“The game, Twinkle,” I repeated. “The last world I connected to.”

“Sure thing, Sarah!” Twinkle said without argument. “You must be in your rig to achieve the full experience.”

“That’s okay,” I lied. “I just want to check something.”

“Okay!” the AI giggled. A split second later, everything around me turned white. Reality had disappeared, replaced by a single floating asterisk.

I grit my teeth. Three months ago, I had vowed to have nothing to do with the game, yet here I was, doing the exact opposite. If my rig was working, I would be in it right now, trying to enhance the immersion. The truth was that I didn’t need it; one didn’t require a rig to connect to this game, just a stable enough connection.

Do you want to proceed beyond the gate?

A message appeared in the air. The last time I had answered the question, things had ended in disaster.

“Yes,” I replied. Just a glimpse, I told myself. Just a quick check to see if Kyle was telling the truth.

The world has missed you, Sarah.

Welcome to the game.