The Aurora City Page 5

  The next morning became a contentious mixture of elation and anxiety. Cassiopia and Markman walked the historic streets of Culpeper in awe of the beauty that surrounded them. At the same time, they knew they were about to step into a city as far from it as possible.

  The ride to the sensesuit lab left both feeling as though perhaps they should turn around while they still could. Cassiopia spoke looking out the car’s passenger window. “Did you soak in enough sun this morning?”

  “My limit without sunscreen. Did you reach your father?”

  “No, and that’s it. I’m going to have to go back to Knoxville in the next day or two to check on him. The desk says there’s a do-not-disturb sign on the room’s door, and he does not answer the hotel phone.”

  “Don’t go without me. I’ll drive you.”

  “Pack your bag.”

  “So maybe one trip into this crazy sim world and then we drop this whole thing?”

  “I was up very late studying the system. It may be ruining me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s so far ahead; it makes known science seem elementary. Problem is, it is understandable. It’s not like you can’t follow the logic. So, it takes our pathetic kindergarten science and shows the next ten levels.”

  “And that ruins you?”

  “What do I do now? I can’t go back. There’s no way these people will let me publish any of this. It’s not mine, anyway. So now when I sit down to work on advancing the world’s computer science, I start right off ten levels ahead of the rest world. I can’t go back.”

  “How about a little at a time. Work in the new stuff a tiny bit here and there. Avoid the shock effect.”

  “I have a feeling that’s what John Paul’s group has been doing all along, and they seem to have far more understanding of how to do that than I.”

  “You need to discuss this with him.”

  “Yeah, and I know what he’s going to say.”

  “What?”

  “Join up. Discard your old life. It’s possible he already knew this was going to happen. He probably knew exposure to their level would cause an irreversible chain of events that would prevent us from ever rejoining the human race.”

  “Wow!”

  “Yeah, wow.”

  When Cassiopia and Markman arrived, the sensesuit lab was already up and running. John Paul and Shandra were standing over a display by the orb and looked up as they entered. John Paul motioned them to join in, then returned his attention to the display.

  “Anything wrong?” asked Cassiopia as she came alongside and stared down at the screen.

  “Everything is right,” was Shandra’s reply and she smiled.

  John Paul looked up at them. “Yesterday the racquet slipped out of your hand once, Scott. It was supposed to. There is a random subroutine intended to simulate the unexpected. We have isolated that and were able to deactivate it. It is another step forward in our control over the programming. How are the two of you today?”

  Markman answered. “If we’re going inside to finish my last game, I’d like to get right to it. I don’t want to spend time thinking about it.”

  Cassiopia looked off balance but after thinking for a moment decided it was a sensible thing.

  John Paul watched her for objections. None came. “The system is ready. By the time you suit up, I’ll have everyone on station. Cassiopia, I am assuming you studied all night.”

  “Most of it.”

  “You’ll be on the master control console with Shandra and me. Scott, remember, you need to avoid using the blue abort triangle on your virtual suit. We believe we’ve disabled the suit’s self-destruct sequence, but we do not know if that applies to the 60-40 escape option. If you hit that abort triangle, you might still be harmed.”

  “Understood.”

  “And Scott, you need to hydrate and do some calisthenics to get your BP up a bit. You shouldn’t go in there too relaxed.”

  “Right.” Markman spotted an ice chest of bottled water left for him just outside the suit test area. He gave Cassiopia an affectionate stare and went to it. He exercised as he drank, working up to a more athletic posture. As he drank, the raster curtain appeared, providing privacy in the suit test area. He passed through the electronic veil and stood facing the suit. This would be a strange return to the past, a visit to a city so alien it was almost beyond description. He pulled off his clothes and brought down the suit, slipping into it quickly this time. With the suit seam hanging open at the chest, he bundled up his clothes and headed toward the raster curtain. It vanished as he approached. The lab area had suddenly become heavily manned. All stations had individuals in white lab smocks standing guard. Cassiopia, John Paul, and Shandra were at the command station near the orb. Markman did his best to appear unconcerned. He unceremoniously dumped his clothing outside the test area. A male attendant in a white shirt and slacks quickly appeared and took it away. Back in the center of the test area, Markman took down the helmet. Once again the display case vanished. He stood with the helmet under one arm and waited for John Paul’s signal.

  John Paul looked around the room and spoke, his voice seeming to come from every direction. “As mentioned before everyone, I do not believe we can terminate this session. Scott, it will be up to you to conclude it yourself by whatever means necessary. Remember, do not use the abort triangle on your suit. We will see everything, but we will not be able to assist you. Please do not take any unnecessary risks. And remember, in the game your name is Richard Baker. Your passcode is: 00101001. Are you ready?”

  Markman cast a last affectionate glance at Cassiopia. She looked back with a wrinkled brow as though she might stop the proceeding at any moment. Markman followed up with a stunted wave. John Paul paid no attention to any of it and tapped a key on his console. The seam on Markman’s suit zipped upward and latched. With a last look for approval, Markman lowered the helmet over his head. The snapping, hissing, and clicking told him he was locked out and on his way. The absolute darkness made him wonder exactly where he would end up.

  The wait seemed too long. Maybe something was wrong. No matter, the helmet and suit could not be removed. That could only be done by the computer. Claustrophobia knocked at the door. Markman fought it back. Something seemed to be happening far in the distance, a thin sliver of light, barely perceptible. At least, something to focus on. He could not remember the power up sequence exactly. He was not sure this was how it was before. Then, the sliver of light became wider, spreading the width of the horizon. Suit air began circulating. The light began to turn orange in the center. The arc of a rising sun became apparent. It moved with increasing speed into the alien skyline, bringing to life a vast city of the future that spread out in every direction, hundreds of feet below Markman. The sky became aqua. It was as though Markman was standing on a tower above it all. Pyramids, giant spheres, colorful structures everywhere. Tubes of light running between them. Strange traffic moving briskly above and within the city. A smell like jasmine crept into his awareness.

  Markman remembered. He looked down at his hands and arms, represented in reflective jet black. He was standing on the same narrow dark granite ledge from his last visit so long ago. It was a two-hundred-foot drop to the city below. The glimmering golden side of the pyramid he was on followed it down. On his chest, the blue abort triangle glowed brightly. Everything was coming back. Markman was almost afraid to turn and look inside. A second orange sun began to rise above the horizon, followed by the appearance of eight small squares suspended in front of him, each containing a single zero. He reached out and touched the third, fifth, and eighth square, changing each to a 1. The boxes disappeared. Colorful icons began to appear around his field of vision, the selections that would allow him to change games. A green bar appeared at the bottom of his view and began flashing the word ‘engage.' Next to it, a gold and silver icon on the bottom left was flashing in time with it. Markman knew he need only wait to default to the Aurora City.

 
A few seconds later the icons and bar disappeared, replaced by a printout.

  ‘Selection time expired. Previous selections completed 0. Default select to 1.'

  Markman’s view cleared to an unimpeded view of the Aurora City. He turned to look inside the pyramid. The doorway was star-shaped. He had forgotten that. Golden light illuminated the chamber within. It too was as he remembered. The floor, a polished dark stone, crystal protrusions jutting up from it in various places providing control stations for various commodities. A clear vertical tube ran from floor to dome ceiling on his right. It had an open oval door. On the left, a panel of silver light enclosed an elevator-like platform. Although the light in the room was golden, everything within it was phasing through different tints of color. Standing just ten feet away was one more very familiar resource.

  “Mr. Baker! How long has it been? Your registry was soon to be deleted. It is a pleasure to see you again, sir.” Standing before Markman was the familiar character of Trill, a tall man whose eyes appeared to be pearl and whose silver hair reached down to his waist. His long white robe had large cuffed sleeves that concealed his hands. It changed color with the room. His skin was a luminous white. His human-like features seemed immaculate.

  Markman stepped into the room and stopped a few feet away. “Sorry. I was held up. Am I too late?”

  “Held up, sir?”

  “You know, I was sidetracked.”

  “Sidetracked, sir?”

  “Delayed.”

  “Very good, sir. You are not too late. Your previous contest awaits your return. Will you be traveling by tube rider or transporter?”

  “Where will I be taken?”

  “Sir, you will be returned to your last point of exit.”

  “Will it all be the same?”

  “Sir, I do not understand your question.”

  “The game, will everything be the same as when I left?”

  “Sir, the objective always remains the same. The game is dynamic, however. One can never anticipate what challenges will be forthcoming.”

  “So, I left off at a brick wall and a garden. Will those be there when I return?”

  “Sir, those surroundings will almost certainly mark your return from your last exit of the contest. What challenges will exist within that environment one can never predict.”

  It was an answer Markman did not like. “Trill, what if I changed my mind and did not want to enter the game at this time. Could I cancel out and leave now before transporting?”

  “Sir, there is no provision for disengagement at this point.”

  “Last time I purchased and took a page with me. Can I do that again?”

  “Sir, you did extremely well during the last session. You accrued several million in credits and earned citizenship in the Aurora City. That allows you to travel within it whenever you choose, once you have finished completing the contest. You are only allowed one page however, and since you lost yours last time, another will not be available until the next game.”

  “Trill, are there other real players in the game right now?”

  “Sir, there are currently no other players accessing the game. Any number can enter at any time, however.”

  “Has the suit’s self-destruct system been deactivated?”

  “Sir, all system operational inquiries must be made directly to the game operators.”

  “Then I think I’m ready.”

  “Sir, may the Crillian spirit travel with you. If you survive and complete this session, you will return as an Overlord. Your abort triangle will turn to gold, allowing you many extra privileges and serving as a warning to others of your prowess. A host of rewards will await you. I shall hope for your return with great anticipation. It would be a remarkable thing. Will you be traveling by tube rider or transporter?”

  “Transport me. I hate waiting around.”

  “Sir, you may step into the transporter column whenever you are ready.”

  Markman went to the vertical column, ducking slightly to step through. Inside he looked back through the clear tube at his virtual protégé and nodded. Trill waved a hand over one of the crystal outcroppings. A flash of golden light filled the room. A moment later he found himself standing in the middle of a bizarre skyscape.

  The place defied understanding. Strange, obtuse objects of dull color were suspended in the air around him. The sky was a fast moving, ever-changing swirl of colors. Below him, there was nothing. It looked like a drop-off to eternity. He was standing on air. Memory of his last encounter came rushing in. It was exactly the same. He searched and saw the eternal wall of red brick a short distance ahead. It was an absolute barrier in every direction unless you knew the secret. On the last trip it had stymied Markman’s competitor.

  Markman walked across empty sky and made his way to the wall. He searched for the slightly misplaced brick that was the key. It was there on his right, a single brick jutting a tiny bit out of place. He went to it and took a ready stance. With care, he worked the brick back and forth. It loosened with each motion. When he was certain it was ready to come out, he took a last careful look around. There were no other players this time to rob him of the prize. With a last hard yank, the brick withdrew from its place. As before, for just a moment, a glimpse of exotic, colorful garden came into view through the hole left by it. And, just as before, bricks suddenly began to fall past him from overhead. Markman tensed, moved, and dodged them, shielding himself with his right hand. He gathered his strength and charged at the wall. The first impact knocked him backward as more and more bricks began to fall all around. He charged once more, and this time the wall gave way. He crashed through and fell to the ground beyond as the massive wall tumbled completely away into oblivion. Markman stood and brushed himself off. He looked behind. There was now flat, still, desert reaching as far as the eye could see. Ahead, the most beautiful garden he had ever seen waited. In its center, a large fountain showered blue water around a monument bearing the Coffer of Dreams, the ultimate prize. But something was different this time. There was now a quaint, waist-high, black wrought-iron fence and gate guarding the path. On the last visit, there had been no such barrier. The other player had charged ahead and reached the fountain with no interference of any kind. But, that player was under the safety of the diagnostic mode of the main computer. The computer had believed it was only testing itself. Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe it was not the free ride everyone was hoping for.

  Cautiously, Markman shuffled along the trail of colored sand, watching in every direction as he went. At the gate, something caught his attention. There was a golden plaque.

  Beyond these garden walls

  Where teardrops shape and fall

  Such radiant treasure win

  To die is to have sinned

  For Markman, it was ominous. It sounded like a warning that things would not be as easy as they had been. Unknown danger waited beyond this gate, and in this unpredictable alien place, that danger might be fatal. He reached for the simple latch but hesitated. He looked upward, knowing that Cassiopia and the entire sensesuit computer team were watching but unable to help. He unlatched and went through. The gate swung open full and rang out when it struck the fence. A strange silence came over the awesome, colorful beauty of the garden. Flowing water from the fountain a few dozen yards away still filled the air with its music, but the atmosphere felt heavy with anticipation. Markman stepped anxiously along the flowered path, his Tao Chang martial arts senses coming to full awareness. He dared three more steps ahead, paused and listened; nothing but the sound of the fountain. Ferns so brightly colored they were fluorescent bordered the path. Trees off to each side bore colorful fruit that glowed. The smell of wild flowers was intoxicating. Had Markman not been suppressing fear, he might have become careless in the garden’s wonder.

  Three more steps, stop and listen. Still nothing. The fountain was only a few more yards ahead. For the first time, he noticed the monument holding the Coffer was periodically changing sh
ape and color. The spray of water shifted in design as well, though the Coffer remained in place, unchanged.

  Four more cautious steps through the sparkling sand. Nothing. Perhaps the suspense was the challenge. Perhaps there were no adversaries hiding in wait, no final death-threats to face. He could see the water in the pool around the fountain now. It was swirling in color and light almost as though it was alive.

  Markman dared another step but quickly froze. Suddenly there came a sound from the distance. Branches breaking, brush being trampled. He searched. It was coming from left of the fountain, still quite far away. In the distance, he saw a tree top suddenly bend and fall, then another. The distant forest was being crushed and pushed aside by something large.

  A pulse of fear caused Markman to step back. Along with the trampling of woodland, he heard a loud, guttural bellow that sounded like a large, angry animal. The crashing of trees and brush intensified, moving in his direction until the trampling finally reached the edge of the garden. There was a momentary pause, and it began again. Now the garden was being crushed by something big, but to Markman’s amazement no creature was visible. As the chaos broke toward him, the howling and roaring became more frequent and almost deafening. Tensed and ready to fight, Markman backed away a few more steps. There was still nothing to see except an approaching path of trashed flowers and trees. Suddenly footprints that shook the ground began appearing in the sand a few dozen yards away, large, heavily contorted depressions. They were the size of an elephant’s but left an impression like bear paws with a large claw in the front. It made no sense. Two clear imprints first appeared. They stopped forming for a moment, then with another howl, a new print collapsed the sand.

  This creature was invisible. It was obviously gigantic. Markman backed away even more. More footprints pounded the sand, advancing toward him. There was an odor like dead flesh. A flash of new fear enveloped Markman, and at that moment a translucent outline of the creature appeared. Two giant, fat legs supported a massive head and body that swung from side to side. Bright red eyes, glaring. The creature’s mouth was large enough to swallow a car. It kept opening wide to bellow, rocking as it went. Wide-eyed, Markman backed away but bumped into something behind him. It was the wrought iron fence. He moved along it without taking his eyes off the creature. At the gate, he backed out further. The creature continued to advance, shaking the ground with each step.

  Past the open gate, Markman found himself backing into the desert. The sand was deep, a hindrance to escape. The creature stepped forward once more, closer than expected, crushing the fence and gate. It came at Markman with renewed determination. Markman turned and ran a short distance through the soft sand. He twisted back to look. The creature kept coming. There was no way to fight it. It was too big. He shuffled backward, fear surging through him. It was a nightmare come to life. This couldn’t be a challenge. There was no way to fight the thing. This had to be a cheat to stop any players from reaching the coffer.

  Markman turned away and ran farther into the heat of the desert, managing to gain some separation. The creature’s outline faded but continued pursuit, pausing only to bellow. Footprints in the sand marked its progress. Fighting his fear, Markman realized there was something familiar about those footprints. How could that be? The creature closed in, screaming and howling, its outline brightening as it neared. Drool seemed to be seeping from the open mouth when it screamed. The long flat desert offered no place to hide. Markman ran through the loose sand and gained more distance. He stopped for breath and collected himself. What was so familiar about this monster? The word monster triggered a memory.

  It was a flashback. He realized he had seen this creature before, in an old movie. He was only five years old then, and the thing had scared the life out of him. What was it? Forbidden World, something like that. No, Forbidden Planet! Was that what Crillia was? In the movie, the monster was attacking people, and they couldn’t stop it. In the end, they realized the monster was formed from their own fear and anger. Monsters from the Id!

  Markman stopped running and turned to face the thing. Every time he had been farther away, its outline had dimmed. Was it that the safer he felt, the less powerful the creature? The greater his fear, the more powerful it became? It was the only chance. Markman forced himself to relax. The outline of the creature continued toward him but faded. Footprints continued to appear in the sand. Markman straightened up and forced himself sit in the sand, pulling his legs into the lotus position. He folded his hands and tilted his head skyward in meditation. If death was inevitable, this was the best way to face it. The footprints and growling kept coming, but the shaking of ground faded and the prints did not seem as deep. They were less than twenty feet away now but barely marking the surface of the sand. The howling began to lose its edge. Markman closed his eyes and found the inner peace he knew so well. The world around him faded into silence. At the point of perfect harmony, he opened his eyes. The monster was gone. Its footprints had disappeared as though they had never been. Only his tracks remained in the sand.

  He stood and started to brush himself off but found no sand at all clinging to his virtual suit. After a final careful look around, he followed his tracks back toward the garden. What exactly had just happened? This was supposed to be a game taking place on the planet Crillia. How could a monster from an ancient film from Earth have materialized here? There was only one explanation. The game computer had somehow looked into his mind, found a deeply buried fear and brought it to life to attack him. It was a devious method of trying to eliminate a player by confronting him with one of his own greatest fears.

  But, this was not the time to relax. Would there be yet something else waiting beyond the gate? He shuffled his way through the sand to the wrought iron fence. Damage to the gate and garden had vanished. The place was as pristine as when he first arrived. The gate stood wide open. Markman paused for another careful look around and passed through. A few steps along the garden path brought no sounds of attackers. The fountain, a few dozen yards ahead, was flowing with color. The jeweled Coffer waited within it.

  Markman crossed over to the fountain and searched again for predators. There were still none. As he approached, a low angelic hum began to fill the air. The only way to access the Coffer was to step up onto the fountain’s edge. Markman carefully stepped up, always scanning the garden. The angelic hum rose in pitch and volume. Beneath his feet the currents of color in the pool began moving more excitedly. The Coffer was still too far to reach. He would need to step into the swirling fountain, another gamble. Markman balanced himself on the edge and decided there were no other choices. He tested the pool of light with one foot. Immediately, it began to evaporate to become a low hanging, colored fog. Daring to test it deeper, his foot found solid ground beneath. Holding his arms out for balance, he stepped fully into the pool. It was cool and damp. Angelic voices reacted to his entry by climbing higher and louder. The Coffer was one step away at chest height now. It began glowing through the jewels embedded within it. A large blue diamond formed the handle of its lid and was radiating light in every direction. One more cautious step forward and still no unexpected consequences. The Coffer was now inches from his chest, beams of light emanating from its precious stones. He dared to touch the blue diamond lid handle. The angelic voices peaked louder and higher. With a deep breath for courage, Markman lifted off the cover and stared down inside.

  Stars. It was full of stars in a dark black sky, and in the center, a sombrero galaxy turning slowly in place. Markman opened his mouth to gasp but never made it. A beam of silver light shot out of the center of the galaxy, striking him in the eyes. It drove his head back and beamed upward in a column of light reaching toward the heavens. It did not cease. Markman was lifted up, suspended by the light, his arms outstretched in a crucifix pose, his body quivering and convulsing. In his mind, unrecognizable images raced by like a movie in super fast forward. It went on for half a minute, then gently subsided. Instead of falling into the founta
in, Markman was lowered to the fountain’s edge and left stunned in a sitting position. He sat with his face in his hands trying to collect himself and understand what had happened.

  As focus began to return, he looked up. The Coffer was gone. Only the fountain head sculpture remained. His feet were still immersed in swirling colors. He stood and tested his body. Everything seemed to work. Stepping out of the fountain he searched. Nothing seemed out of place except for the missing Coffer. As he turned back to the fountain, he again became engulfed in golden light. This time when it subsided, he found himself back in the Centrex pyramid. Trill was standing a few feet away.

  “Lords of Terra can it be? Have you done it? You have gained the Coffer? Mr. Baker, sir, I bow to you in humble apology. I should not have doubted you. This is remarkable! Centuries of legend so swiftly concluded! Many other competitors have visited the city, but no one has ever opened the Coffer. What was the reward? What will occur as a result of your win?”

  Markman gathered himself and looked at Trill in confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me what happens now?”

  “Sir, you have fulfilled the ancient prophecy. You are now an Overlord, an honorary aristocrat of Crillia. Word is spreading as we speak. It is said the Coffer endows you with special powers.”

  “Special powers? Like what?”

  “Sir, I do not know. Legend has it that these powers were once possessed by all Crillians, but lost over time. No one knows of them now.”

  “Trill, when you send me to the game, where do you actually send me?”

  “Sir, all visiting competitors are transported to Quest Haven. In your case, directly to the Dome of the Dragon Masters.”

  “And this is a place intended for combat and competition?”

  “A facility and tradition established long ago by our ancestors to test outsiders who wish admittance to Crillian society.”

  “So I can travel around the city now, right? No one will try to kill me, right?”

  “Mr. Baker, sir, you do not understand. You are the first ever to have completed the Dragon Master contest. No one was ever expected to. No one has ever received the Dragon Master prize. Legend says that you now possess the powers of our ancestors.”

  “I don’t feel any different….”

  “Sir, have you not noticed the triangle you now wear?”

  Markman looked down at his virtual chest. The blue triangle was now a softly illuminated gold.

  “What does it mean?”

  “Sir, no one wears the golden triangle, only an Overlord.”

  “But what does that mean?”

  “Sir, it means that you are an ambassador to the Crillian high council and an honorary member of the Crillian guard.”

  “Crillian guard?”

  “Sir, the Crillian military.”

  “Crillia has a military?”

  “Sir, of course. It dissuades invasions from neighboring planets, and surprises any insurgencies that might arise, though none have in hundreds of years.”

  “So what exactly is required of me in all of this?”

  “Sir, the Crillian high council will now accept and consider any diplomatic petitions you file. You are provided with an office here in the Centrex Pyramid, as well as a private residence.”

  “A residence?”

  “Sir, you are consigned residence in the largest castle complex on Crillia. The Terra Nova Castle. It lies just north of the City.”

  “A castle?”

  “Sir, yes, part of an extensive estate.”

  “Tell me something else, Trill. When I leave the game, doesn’t all of Crillia just shut down?”

  “Sir, heavens forbid, no. Life cannot be arbitrarily shut down.”

  “But, what if the central computer shuts down.”

  “Sir, the interloper eggs are self-sustaining. They never cease synchronization.”

  “Eggs? Do you mean memory eggs?”

  “Sir, you would need to consult the operators of the system for technical information. I possess only a basic understanding.”

  “And so while I hold this Overlord position you’re telling me about, will you remain here to help me?”

  “Sir, I am honored to be your head of staff unless you choose to replace me.”

  “I have other staff?”

  “Sir, dozens.”

  “Trill, I want to disengage, but on my next visit I’d like to explore the city a little bit. Any problem with that?”

  “Sir, the city is yours to enjoy. On your next visit, I will brief you as thoroughly as possible beforehand. This is all so… unexpected. May the Gods of Terra guide us.”

  “Trill, let’s disengage.”

  “Sir, please step into the transport tube. I will eagerly await your return.”

  Markman took his position and watched through the glass as a stunned Trill nodded and waved a hand across a control bed of crystals. An instant later, a flash of blinding white light, followed by the familiar clicking and hissing from the suit, told Markman he had returned to the real world.

  Chapter 6