Friday, April 26, 2013

Phrenia, Bilateralis, Chapter Four



Her eyes opened. Sunlight streamed in through the window. She slid off the bed to her feet, stood, and stretched. It had been a dreamless sleep. Fortunately so, she thought. What if she had dreamt of the real world?


She thought it was odd that Pantheon had programmed even dreams into their game.
“Hey,” Ratty mumbled, as he stirred.
“Are you ready to go yet?” Sibyl asked.
“I just woke up,” Ratty said, whimpering.
“Aw, come on. Up!” Sibyl raised her hands, miming rolling him over. With a gasp, she watched as he actually was lifted up and over; off the bed and onto the floor. “Sorry!” Sibyl said, looking at her hands, “I forgot I was magic.”
Ratty stood, wincing, letting the covers fall from him. “I’m up now,” he said, “Wide awake, actually.” He slipped his boots back on.
“Did you dream at all?” Sibyl asked.
“Not really.”
“Oh, weird,” Sibyl said, “Well maybe not weird. I dreamed in the stagecoach on the ride over. And I was just thinking how confusing it is to dream in a game. That’s like, three separate levels. Reality, the game, and the dream.”
Ratty frowned.
“Sorry,” Sibyl said, “It’s just that it’s crazy how intensively they programmed this thing, isn’t it? It must have taken ages to edit every little detail.”
“I think it took them five years. The Pantheon lead developer said that they found a way to create things while they were playing, rather than program it via code. The tech guys? Like Mandril Dusk? They have the same powers the developers had. They can change the environment to fix issues if they need to.”
“That seems like a lot of power to be putting on these guys’ shoulders.”
“I guess.” Ratty shrugged. “You wanna head straight to Mandril today? Since it’s daylight and probably safer?”
“Yeah, sure,” Sibyl said. “But shouldn’t you be getting off soon? It’s probably nighttime in real life. Shouldn’t you get some sleep?”
Probably,” Ratty said, wearily. “But first I want to help you. And to help you, I gotta take you to the temple, right?”
They left the room after attempting to re-make the bed sheets. Sibly led them downstairs, and they found the barroom on the first story was empty, save for a pair seated at the end of the room.
“Hey,” Ratty said, sideways, to Sibyl, “doesn’t that guy look familiar?”
Sibyl recognized him when he looked up. “Grannus!” She shouted.
“Hey! Guys!” His friend looked up too, and Sibyl was relieved to see that he wore as friendly a smile as Grannus. “Come on over!”
Ratty and Sibyl navigated the tables until they reached Grannus’, and sat down beside him and his friend.
“I didn’t expect to see you guys so soon,” Grannus said, “Sibyl, Ratty; this is Kennel.”
“Oh,” Sibyl said, “You mentioned him earlier.” Sibyl looked at him, “You had some trouble disconnecting?”
“Mandril helped me sort it out,” Kennel said. “It didn’t take too long. And it’s nice to meet you, Sibyl.” Kennel had a slender face and a long, pointed chin, and a prominent nose. It was almost goofy, Sibyl thought. Maybe he edited his avatar to look friendlier?
“Thanks,” Sibyl said. “You too.”
“And you’re Ratty?” Kennel asked, changing his gaze.
“Yup,” Ratty said.
“But you’re more like a mouse, aren’t you? Because of a curse?” Kennel frowned, sympathetically, “I know it’s not too hard to find someone who can remove it.”
“It’s fine,” Ratty said, “The curse has its benefits. I’m faster with it.”
“Makes sense,” Kennel said. “Mice are nimble little things.”
Ratty smiled and nodded.
Anyway,” Grannus said, “How about your connection problem? Have you managed to speak with Mandril yet?”
“No,” Sibyl said, “The streets last night seemed dangerous... so we spent the night here.”
“Treble’s on the loose again,” Kennel said, with a shake of his head. “But he ain’t anything Grannus and I can’t handle.”
“You’re going after him?” Sibyl asked.
“Yes indeed,” Grannus said, “There’s such a ridiculous bounty on his head now it’s not even funny. A thousand and five hundred Ivans. He’s wanted dead now, not alive. Because this time, when he escaped, he killed the five people who were supposed to be guarding his carriage.”
“Are you sure that’s smart?” Sibyl asked. “To go after him?”
“I think it is,” Ratty said. “I could see how two people could take him down. I mean he’s tough, but he won’t be impossible to defeat.”
“You’ve fought him?” Grannus asked, quizzically. “Well you probably had to resurrect somewhere, right?”
“Nope,” Ratty said, “Sibyl saw; it was back in Middlerock. And he probably would’ve gotten me if the entire bar hadn’t grabbed him to tie him up. I’m lucky. But, yeah, he’s just really fast. If you get more than one person on him you can make him stumble. I figure if he stumbles enough times, he’ll fall.”
“Well,” Grannus said, “That’s reassuring. Except... Maybe he was going easy on you? He killed five guards who were, no offense, probably better armed and trained than you. I don’t know how he’d do that to them if you almost won against him.”
Ratty scowled.
“Sorry, just,” Grannus held up his hands defensively, “whatever.”
“Do you happen to know where Mandril Dusk is?” Sibyl asked, tired of their argument.
“By the temple with the Exitus Stone,” Grannus said. “Hey, Ratty said you saw Treble up close. What’s he like?”
“He’s skinny,” Sibyl said. “He’s like a spoiled kid given too much to play with. He had goons with him that seemed to be helping him out. Ratty?” She looked over at him, “Can we talk to Mandril already?”
“Do you mind going on your own?” Ratty asked.
“What?” She asked. “Why?”
“I want to help these two is all. I’ve fought Treble before. Maybe I can help them take him down, alright?”
Sibyl sighed, deciding she probably didn’t need his help anyway. “Go ahead,” she said, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, hopefully.”
“Yeah,” Ratty said, “Thanks. Do you want any money? In case you need it to see Mandril?”
“Mandril doesn’t charge,” Kennel interrupted, “and hey, Ratty, maybe you should go with her. In case Treble shows up in town.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sibyl said, “I blocked him before. I can block him again.”
“Alright then,” Ratty said. “Good luck!”
“Thanks,” she said. She stood up and walked to the door, stepping out into the square. It was packed, now that it was the day. She stared, disbelieving, at how many there were, shuffling against one another.
These people didn’t seem to care that Treble was still at large. Although, Sibyl did three red-uniformed officers, carrying swords and pikes, patrolling down the streets, crowds clearing in front of them and reforming behind them. There were vendors gathered around the base of the statue, facing outwards, and stores along the houses that lined the square. But Sibyl was poor, and tired.
And, mostly, she wanted to go home.
So she walked down the wide road that Ratty and her had taken the previous night, moving with the crowd on the right side of the road that seemed to be headed towards the temple. She realized that many of those in the traffic were other players. She hadn’t recognized them at first because, unlike in Middlerock, they’d abandoned their starting gear for a varied mix of armor and weapons likely collected during their adventures.
After a few minutes, she saw the temple looming ahead. The columns around the entrance and the straight marble walls made Sibyl think of Greco-Roman architecture, which, she decided, was fitting for a team of developers calling themselves Pantheon.
As Sibyl stepped inside the room, she saw a set of lines leading to the far end, where there was a wooden booth that reminded her of a confessional. She joined the line leading up to the booth and waited. Ten minutes passed. There was an irritated silence among the others waiting in the line that kept her from trying to ask anyone else what had brought them there.
After another ten minutes, she was standing three people away from the booth. She checked her journal and thought how odd it was that the message from the previous day hadn’t changed. It was likely midnight in the real world, or at least in the early morning. How bad was Pantheon’s connection issue, that it was taking them so long to fix it?
She reached the door. The doorknob felt as though it’d just been taken out of a freezer, and it stuck to her hands as she turned it. She opened the door and felt a cool breeze slide past her into the stuffy chamber behind her. Sibyl stepped inside.
The tech support room was very modern. A laptop sat upon a shining steel desk. Behind the desk, in a leather chair, sat a skinny, wrinkled old man in a business suit. He had thick white hair that was combed to the side, and his hands were steepled on the desk. Trying to be dramatic, she thought. “Sibyl,” he said, “You are here to get back to Earth, are you not?”
Sibyl, still standing by the door, nodded. “Mandril Dusk?” She asked.
He inclined his head.
She wondered if he was one of the founders. What Ratty had told her suddenly rose up in her mind. This man could change whatever he wanted to in the game’s world. He was, almost literally, a god. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” she said, startled by her own nervousness, “could you help me get out of Phrenia? I-I-I have school tomorrow. I need to pre-prepare.”
Without smiling, he reached under his desk and produced a pocket watch. It was bronze, and it seemed to be of a perfectly circular shape. “When the hour hand on this watch reaches twelve,” he said, “place your hand on one of the Exitus Stones in the rear of the temple. Your body will be manually disconnected from your home terminal, via a pneumatic switch, and the severance will force your consciousness back into your Earthbound body.”
“Oh,” Sibyl said. She stood there, began to walk towards the other door.
“The watch,” he said, holding it a little higher, a little bit more towards her, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Sibyl.”
“How do you know my name?” She asked, stepping towards him.
“Of all the players, there are only a few who I know the names of,” Mandril said, smiling now.
She took the watch from him, careful not to touch his hands. “Then why do you know my name, from all the others?”
“Curiosity, I think,” Mandril said. “Now, please go. I have several hundred other players who need to return home. Join the line headed for the Exitus Stones. It should not take you any time at all to disconnect.”
“What if I don’t?” She asked.
“You will, Sibyl,” he said.
She turned and walked out the other door. She hurried ahead to arrive at the back of the exiting line, and began to dread what she thought had to be another lengthy wait for the Exitus Stones. She looked into the crowd before her, and saw so many others in her position, trying desperately to return home. Did Mandril know all of their names? Did he only know her name because she was stuck?
Her mind occupied, she hardly noticed the half-hour that passed. She paid less and less attention to those around her. She saw that the Exitus Gate in Flannerytown, this one behind their temple, was much larger than the one at Middlerock. There were ten Exitus Stones lined in a half-circle around the back of the temple, and there was a chaos of players trying to get to each one, frantically looking at watches of their own. Sibyl tried desperately to see if she knew anyone here. But failed. She checked her watch and saw that noon was drawing near.
“Hey!” She shouted, “It’s my time! I have to go!”
Faces turned up to her, many of them stepping aside, others ignoring her. Instinctually, she pushed through, causing a commotion as she rushed for one of the stones. She watched a player in front of her place her hand on one of the Exitus Stones and disappear. Sibyl looked down at the watch again. It was almost time for her to go.
She reached stepped up to the Exitus Stone, placed her hand upon it, and closed her eyes. Peeking for a moment at the watch, she saw the second hand ticking down, the hour hand hanging one notch away from twelve. She shut her eyes again while she held her hand against the stone. She counted in her head. Five, four, three, two, one--
Fingers dug into her shoulder, wrenching her away from the stone before tossing her to the ground. As the hour hand reached twelve she felt a rippling in her head. It felt like any other headache, at first. And then it surged, until it felt like someone was ripping the brain from the stem, tearing it to pieces, or digging through it.
As she hit the ground, she felt a rigidity set into her body, paralyzing even her mouth, keeping her from screaming. It spread down her spine along the neurons, shooting out into her fingertips. She was in too much pain to even realize that she’d missed the time when she was supposed to have manually disconnected.
And then, after a moment, the pain stopped. It vanished; not fading away or dulling. She was still in the temple, with the crowd facing her, looking in shock, a few of them glancing down at their pocket watches before rushing away towards an Exitus Stone of their own.
“What happened?” She asked, looking at them, “Who... who pulled me? Who pulled me away?”
The faces in the crowd turned, some pointing. Sibyl turned to follow their gaze.
She saw Treble look at her, smiling. He stepped back into the crowd, disappearing between the gathered players.
Shakily, she rose to her feet. Though the feeling had returned to her limbs, she felt strange still. As though electricity danced across her body. She felt the source. Something around her wrist. The bracelet was glowing. She looked up at the crowd. “Please move aside,” she said, trying to sound as calm as she could. There was a roaring in her ears like a waterfall or a river.
She walked forward, still feeling unsteady. Treble had gone this way, she felt sure, between a set of plinths, through these columns. The crowd gone, she could see him slowly walking away, his back turned. Sibyl began to run. She was still dizzy. She felt strange.
But she managed to run faster now, though her feet sometimes glanced off of the ground and she almost fell. Treble stopped, perhaps hearing her pursuit. He turned to look at her. His eyes widened in shock. His mouth formed the words how are you alive, but Sibyl could only hear the sound of the waterfall.
She held out her hands, pointer and middle fingers extended. Then she shouted, “Bilateralis!”, and brought her hands across on an intersecting course. The frentic buzz that had been coursing through her limbs leapt from her fingertips, soaring out towards Treble like twin blades of light.
Treble, blinked when they approached before leaping, throwing himself over the blades. He sped towards her. Sibyl’s arms had finished their motions, and there was no time to throw up the palms of her hands as Treble covered the rest of the distance, his knife flashing too quickly for Sibyl to even watch it as it sunk itself into her chest, up to the hilt. Treble pulled it out, slashing again and again until Sibyl could no longer hear the waterfall, or feel the electricity that flowed through her. Only the renewed pain and warmth as her blood rushed out.
Blood streaked across Treble’s face in thin lines. He gave her one last confused glance before he turned and ran.
Sibyl stumbled. She clasped her hands over her wounds in a feeble attempt to stop the flow of blood. She fell against a gravestone. She grabbed the granite to try to keep from falling to her side, but her hands were slick and she slipped down to the ground.
She was feeling empty, and the world was dimming. She felt as though she were suddenly separated from the world around her. Her robe was heavy now, with her rapidly emptying life. She felt graveyard grass tickling the side of her face. She didn’t want to keep her eyes open. So she closed them.

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