Saying Your Goodbyes, by Jim Reader

The gold and red suns set together, a rare omen, as Entogra Farok-dal tried to make his escape from the docks district of Shagnar, the port city on the Empire’s eastern shores.

“Hey there!” Captain Pellofin Whaler bellowed, “You aint going nowhere!”

Entogra ducked his head and grinned as the bearded ogre’s breath washed over him, a tidal wave of expensive brandy and cheap numb-leaf.

“Sorry Pell, I have to. Too many stops to go, and I really want to make the capital by Crinsday.”

“Crinsday! Still four days away, no need to hurry at all!” The huge man put an arm like a tree trunk on Entogra’s shoulders. “This party is still going strong and the guest of honor can’t be sneakin’ away like he’s embarrassed of us wharf-rats!”

“Pell,” Entogra replied, ducking out from under the arm threatening to drive him to his drunken knees, “we’ve been partying since sundown yesterday… I’m tired, I’m very drunk… did I mention tired?” He turned and hugged his old friend. “Besides, now it’s really only three and maybe… uh, a couple of hours… ‘til Crinsday and I must be going.”

The merchant captain managed to scrape together some measure of social grace and helped Entogra sneak away to the estate he’d sold the day before. He’d begun liquidating his assets in his birthplace, selling off everything and using the funds to throw a party the city would be talking about for months.

Now, as he looked at his old home, he felt wistful. He was going to miss it.

“Not gettin’ any second thoughts there, are you?” Pellofin asked softly. “You know you can change your mind, any time right up till the end. The gods won’t be so pissed that a few fat donations won’t soothe their anger.”

“No… it’s time, Pell. I never thought I’d say it, but it’s time.” With one last back-pounding hug he staggered out and hauled himself onto the mount waiting him on the lawn.

Most of the great citizens of the empire chose the time of their death as he was doing. Sold their goods, threw their parties, celebrated their lives, and then went to whatever lay beyond. Oh, there were those who simply disappeared into the universe, their property taken by the taxmen of the Empire, but they were relatively few.

As Alsoo, his beloved flying snow-leopard, ascended into the sky for the long journey, he looked back to the city for the last time; its squat stone buildings spreading across the great delta of the river, the wide walls holding back the waters of the river and the sea, as well as the periodic assaults of the barbarians and beastmen who lived beyond.

His eyes caught glints off the armor and weapons of the city guard, bolstered by those looking to make a name for themselves, as they marched out into the twilight to meet the shambling horde of a wilderness raiding party.

He smiled, remembering the days of his youth and how he’d cowered behind the steel wall of warriors before him, a lowly apprentice wizard, asthmatic and weak, afraid that he would be hurt but even more terrified that he would be shown to be a coward. It had been a closer thing than anyone knew.

As Alsoo fell into the mile-eating rhythm that would keep him aloft and moving all night, Entogra gazed down at the silver ribbon of the river, cherishing memories of  his first, and many subsequent, indulgences in wine and sex. It had been a good beginning to a long and virtuous career and he remembered the friends he’d made in those days, most gone now, others grown to be strangers.

Entogra nestled into Alsoo’s soft fur, closed his eyes and dreamt of the slender, oiled bodies of lovers he’d not thought of in years.

*   *   *   *   *

Manny waited in the shadows across the street, her jammers at a level that would foil any casual search, praying no one would examine her alley any more closely. The inside of her stealth-mask was wet and she felt the sweat running down her neck, her limp black hair plastered to her head like seaweed. The mask trapped the smells of her perspiration, sour with fear, and the salty tang of her tears. She yearned to speed away, to find coolness in the rush of wind, but she had to see Joe carried out on the stretcher, the black bag zipped over his head, damp with beads of moisture from the humid air.

It was only then she believed what she already knew.

She closed her eyes, squinching her face as if to shut them against reality itself, and triggered the thermite charges integrated into Joe’s suit. Inside the ambulance a clear voice began a countdown and as she opened her eyes she was gratified to see the first responders heed its warning. Through the street she felt the charges ignite, incinerating Joe’s body and everything around it so as to render identification impossible, leaving the ambulance a burned-out husk.

She eased the dark grey bike back down the alley, carefully turning it around at the far end before starting the engine. It was quiet, very quiet, but snoopers could hear a rat fart and she knew both corporate security and the police would have them flying about the office building.  She pulled out into traffic, dialing up the jammers to foil any traffic cameras, and leaning close to the bike. The speed she needed would drain the battery quickly, but she’d wasted too much time waiting for them to bring out Joe’s body. If she was to save Bobby, she had to balance what charge remained between stealth and speed.

*   *   *   *   *

Entogra’s sleep was disturbed by a deep-throated cough from Alsoo. Upon awakening, he looked down to see one of the many riverboats that ran up and down the treacherous lower reach in trouble, the kind that could end its journey permanently. One of the large serpents ruling the windy stretch of river had decided it had a chance against the boatload of travelers. Its giant form was coiled around the rear of the boat, trying to drag it under, while the massive head, sharp fangs glistening in the bluish moonlight, danced back and forth, attempting to snatch an unlucky crewman or passenger.

Entogra smiled, remembering his first journey up the river, the fight where time slowed and minutes seemed days as he and the others fought valiantly to keep their own boat from being pulled under. He pushed Alsoo into a dive. He felt the warm wet air stream past him, his long purple curls snapping in the wind of Alsoo’s flight. No one had intervened on his boat’s behalf all those years ago, yet they’d won anyway. He would improve this boatload’s chances of doing the same.

The great serpent seemed oblivious to Entogra and Alsoo’s approach and the snow leopard snarled in fierce joy as he latched onto the snake’s back with his hind claws, burying them deep into its flesh as he began to alternate great slashing strikes with his front claws, carving his way to the reptile’s spine.

Entogra swiveled in his saddle, releasing the great spear-staff he had named ‘Abjuration’ from its straps. Muttering syllables as familiar to him as the lines on his hands, he pivoted the staff and pointed the blade end towards the serpent’s back. As his invocation of the runes finished, the cold iron blade lit up with a violet-blue flame that burned itself onto Entogra’s retinas, the same as it had years before when he first ignited it.

Feeling the shaft hum with power, he stabbed deep into the serpent and smiled a hungry grin as he felt the spearhead come to a stop jammed between vertebrae of the snake’s spine. He savored the agony of the great creature, and then uttered the one, short syllable that released the staff’s power into the beast.

There was a series of muffled ‘foomps’ as the serpent’s internal organs exploded and the smell of cooked meat filled the air, spurting out from the snake’s body in jets of escaping steam. He tore the spear loose, smiled and waved as Alsoo released his hold on the corpse and rose again into the night sky.

Entogra ignored the cries of the passengers, who had evidently been looking forward to the glory of the kill themselves, confident he had ensured their success and saved them from a cold, dark time in the bowels of the serpent. It would not have lasted long, but it would have been unpleasant, and he chuckled, remembering the times he’d been defeated and suffered the ignominy of waiting as his body’s essence returned first to the aether, and then to the land of the living to become flesh again.

Once more Alsoo turned towards his destination and, after re-securing ‘Abjuration’, Entogra snuggled back into his leopard’s faintly musky fur, falling asleep as they sailed through the dark.

*   *   *   *   *

Manny took a turn at too high a speed, or too sharply, or both… or maybe it was just that she couldn’t see through the fresh batch of unshed tears welling up in her eyes as she sped through the night. The rear tire began to slide and she fought to remain in control, the damp street sliding by sideways as the elbow of her jacket traded molecules with the pavement, never quite touching, just barely missing. Out of her peripheral vision she could see the asphalt blurring by while she calculated the odds of being able to right the bike. As she felt her knee make brief contact, she eased her weight away from the street, gunned the engine and brought the motorcycle upright with a fierce shimmy and slewing fishtail. She began to move carefully through the traffic, riding smarter rather than faster.

She’d never known a world without her older brother Joe in it, never imagined one, never cared to live in one without him… if not for Joe, she and Bobby both would be dead or worse. Bobby had been a victim-in-training, no friends, no protectors, when Joe had taken the boy under his wing. Joe had kept them in what passed for the creche’s school, forcing the three of them to take whatever courses they could, and work at them, all in that slim hope of corporate recruitment. For Joe and Bobby, it had gotten easier eventually as they discovered where their gifts lay – Joe in history and social studies, Bobby in mathematics and computers, but for Manny none of it was easy, except for shop. She’d slogged on though, unwilling to let her big brother down, unwilling to be left behind.

She remembered all the nights he’d sat up with her, huddled over her lessons, the harsh bare bulb making the already shabby closet-like room the three of them shared that much sharper and uglier.

“Manny, I know it’s hard, I know it’s frustrating,” he’d say, “but there’s nothing on the streets but dying and killing. Our lives depend on us getting off of them and finding something better.”

One night, her head aching with subjects she didn’t begin to understand, she’d cried out in frustration, “Then just leave me behind, Joe… I can’t do this!”

Her brother had taken her hands, his eyes giving truth to his words, “If you stay behind, I stay behind. If I stay behind, Bobby stays behind. I won’t leave you.”

After that she’d worked harder. While her life might not be worth fighting for… or learning for… she wouldn’t be the death of Joe’s dreams.

When the day had come, and corporate recruiters filled the barren courtyard passing for the creche’s ‘outdoor environment’ with their tables and booths, a miracle had occurred. Three of the twelve showed interest in Joe and Bobby, a field quickly narrowing to one when they made known their requirement that Manny be a part of the deal. In the end, Neuschtani had agreed, although they required half her salary to come out of Joe and Bobby’s. They’d gotten out of East Dalworth, away from the crèche, the slums and the ghettos and into the shining-plastic-clean of Neuschtani’s Operative Accommodations – perhaps the prettiest name for barracks she’d ever heard.

They’d worked hard and learned a lot. Those years were when Manny found her place in the world. Light and wiry, she’d become the mistress of covert insertions, sleight-of-hand and locks – an unstoppable combination of slithering snake and crawling cat, with just a dash of junkyard dog. With Joe as the brains and muscle, and Bobby handling anything and everything that could be gotten to through the Web, they’d carved out a reputation among Neuschtani’s covert operatives: no-bullshit-sure-things, completion guaranteed.

Joe kept them in the barracks, eating kibble at the company cafeteria, and invested their monies in company shares. Eventually the hard work and austere lifestyle paid off and they were able to buy out their contracts and go independent.

It had been a good day. Manny thought it had been the best day of her life – a day she owed entirely to her big brother.

Coming out of the past, she looked over her left shoulder and caught the unmarked cop cruising up two lanes away. Manny bit the inside of her lip, and forced herself to focus on where she was and what she was doing. Any safety she felt was an illusion. She might make it away cleanly, but if she was stopped and her ID given more than a glance, she’d automatically go to the top of the suspect list for the debacle at the Para Sol offices.

She slowed down a bit, fit herself into the traffic flow and prayed the officers didn’t look at her or the bike too closely.

*   *   *   *   *

From Shagnar on the delta, to Shiffeklo at the crossroads of the Ferrogull basin, up to the mountain fastness of Shupella guarding the pass to the Great Desert of Peralfa, from Shoomaki, City of Illusions, that shifted locations in the heart of the desert, to Shaamaat, last human settlement on the edge of the huge Forest of Demalii, Entogra liquefied his assets and spread the wealth, friends and acquaintances and complete strangers all free to enjoy the party. Alsoo was tireless, a good thing as the celebrations often left Entogra exhausted. He knew it was in part due to the burden on his heart, a burden not strictly his own, but his to carry nonetheless. He had sworn at the start of this last journey no sign of his distress would show, no tears would flow – he would not let the final passages of his life’s story be written with any sadness or pain, they would instead be the final glorious celebration of all he’d been and done.

There was one last city, the great Imperial capital of Shiktai, where he would have his final festival before ascending the holy smoking mountain of De’alaat and throwing himself into the caldera of the volcano, ending his life in a last glorious burst of flames.

*   *   *   *   *

Block after block, mile after mile, she felt the itch between her shoulder blades intensifying, the annoying itch that ofttimes meant she was being watched, and sometimes meant she was paranoid. Glancing back at the unmarked police car, she didn’t think it was mere paranoia.

She kept telling herself she didn’t have time for such games, Bobby was going to be stupid, there was no question, and she knew how, and she could stop it – but not if she was in custody, or even late… and she was already so damn close to ‘late’ by her estimations.

Another five or so miles, that was all.

A soft beep in her earpiece drew her eyes to the corner of her HUD. The issue was decided, the officer was trying to lock on her bike, take control and bring her to a stop. Manny hated having no options.

*   *   *   *   *

As Alsoo beat his tireless wings and they sailed through the skies towards Shiktai and their eventual destination at the smoking crater, Entogra allowed himself to feel the burden he carried.

Twenty-four years… twenty-four years he had known Joe, trusted him… loved him. He’d been five when he met the two of them in the crèche, and been instantly taken under Joe’s wing. Manuelita was the sister he’d never had but Joe… he had been everything else. Bobby had fallen in love with him before he even knew what sex was, and once puberty hit his feelings hadn’t changed at all, they’d only intensified. He’d never spoken of it, never dared to believe it could ever happen, afraid anything he said, anything he did, would destroy the most precious relationship in his life and damage the only other one he had.

On his sixteenth birthday, Joe had come to him, eighteen and built like a young god, and told him he knew how Bobby felt… and he felt the same… and when Bobby was ready, no pressure, Joe would be waiting for him.

He’d been ready that very night, and they’d been together ever since… thirteen years… and now Joe was gone, and it was his fault. So the time had come to end things, and he knew how he wanted to go. There were only three things in the world that could pull him out of “Cyn’Ko’Taar Nights”, the virtual reality game he loved… Joe, Manny or a job. The charges were set on his VR rig. When his character died, he would die too… and maybe he’d be with Joe again, although he rather suspected he’d be nowhere at all… and that was fine with him.

He pushed the reality out of his mind again, and Entogra the Great, Wizard of the Thousand Spells of Light, Guardian of the Shimmering Violet Flame, Wielder of the Arcane Staff ‘Abjuration’ and Warden of the Gates of Forever wept bitter tears for no reason he cared to name as he made his final flight through the skies of Cyn’Ko’Taar.

*   *   *   *   *

No time, no time, no time, no time… Manny knew she was out of it.

Muttering a prayer to the gods of Electronic-Counter-Measures, she spun the jammers up to maximum, kicked on her cloaking system, setting off a gradual shift of colors through both suit and bike that could buy her precious seconds if a description got reported to the authorities, and leaned, gunning the engine as she slid between two cars.

She watched the battery charge drop precipitously, the drain sucking the volts like a child getting the last of a milkshake out of the cup. The servers Bobby’s game ran on were less than three miles away. She’d gone there with him months before, no security at all to speak of, certainly none that would stop her tonight. Tonight nothing could detain her; the worst anyone could do would be to kill her and if she didn’t get to the damn servers in time that wouldn’t tear her up too much.

She didn’t know where Bobby was when he wasn’t at the small apartment they’d shared… on those occasions she knew he was playing his game, but where he was holed up, she had no clue. It was his time; neither she nor her brother had wanted to crowd him about it. She had her private place as well, so did Joe. After years in the crèche, and then in the barracks, privacy was something none of them chose to live without.

As she dove in and out, around and between, the police fell behind. But there was the likelihood the cop had called in air units and she simply had no time. She knew from listening to Bobby burble about it that time in the game moved much faster than in the real world, and she knew Bobby would say all his good-byes and make it a grand and glorious affair… but she had no idea how long she had left to stop him.

*   *   *   *   *

Shiktai lay below him, its towers glimmering bluish-silver in the moonlight, as Alsoo lowered his head and began his glide towards the highest balcony of Entogra’s tower. Something seemed wrong to Entogra as they approached, but he knew there was nothing at all for him to fear, not in the heart of the capital. He smiled as he mused on the fact there was little anywhere on the world of Cyn’Ko’Taar he had reason to fear.

As he dismounted and people sprang out at him from what seemed like every nook and cranny of the balcony, from behind every piece of statuary and planter lining its periphery, Entogra considered surprise parties might be the exception to the rule.

*   *   *   *   *

The bike’s battery was empty and Manny abandoned it without a second thought, effortlessly sliding into the shadows, her arms pumping as she ran. In this neighborhood, an armed and armored woman, no matter how short, was guaranteed to be someone none of them wanted trouble with. The few who were out on the streets at this hour of the morning got out of her way, not looking at her overly long, doing nothing that might draw her attention.

She could feel the faint greasy slickness of the sidewalk under the soles of her boots, only their tread preventing her from sprawling in the grime and slime of a world the three of them had fought so hard to escape. She hated the streets, the ghettos, the abandoned buildings and pervasive decay surrounding her. She had nothing but pity for those who dwelt there… she’d only escaped because of her brother and Bobby… but having escaped, she bitterly resented anything that brought her back to her former prison.

Her HUD showed a flicker of active scanners down the street behind her.

“That’s just too damn bad,” she thought as she found the wherewithal to run a little faster. The corporate enclave where the servers were located was no more than four blocks away and she knew she had no time to hide or evade. As they’d dealt with so many things in their lives, she’d just have to tough it out.

*   *   *   *   *

Entogra watched the grand ballroom of his tower swim in his vision as he reflected that he’d never in his life drank quite so much of the subtly potent Kellgat apple ice brandy… and quite possibly that was why he had lived so long. Each sip was fragrant springtime in the mouth, fiery summer in the throat, blustery autumn in the stomach and icy winter to the extremities. He was feeling uncharacteristically in tune with the turning of the planet, mirrored in the rotations of his eyes and the spinning of his head.

The best of his friends and companions from across the world had gathered in Shiktai and spared no expense… so much so that even though he’d liquidated all his property and possessions he wouldn’t be able to reimburse them for the lavish party they were throwing. Not that any of them expected such recompense… he knew whether he forced the monies on them or not, his wealth would end up in the same place – the various aid funds run by the city’s guilds and temples.

As he lay on a sprawling sea of pillows, a lovely young man working rose-scented oil into his shoulders and neck, he felt humbled by the regard of his fellows. Humbled, and saddened – after the rapidly approaching dawn, he’d never see them again.

*   *   *   *   *

Corporate enclaves liked to think of themselves as impenetrable bastions of privilege in an ever-growing sea of squalid commoners, safe from anything and everyone that might disrupt their all-important holy rites of business and profit.

Those who worked, or had worked, for the corporations ruling the globe knew better. They knew the corporate enclaves to be beautiful fairy castles made of Swiss cheese, liable to infiltration through holes already present in the security, or new holes easily eaten through. The larger a thing was the more ways there were to pierce its defenses, and corporations and their fiefdoms were the biggest things around.

With no time to play games with security forces, Manny had simply looked for a blind spot in their scanning, scaled the security wall and dropped down inside, almost as quickly as she could have walked through an unguarded gate. Once inside, she thanked whatever gods there were for GPS and started making her way to the ODRealities server facility.

“Yo, chica, you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here?”

The voice came from a speaker… a speaker set in the chest of a securi-bot rolling out of a recess in the corridor wall ahead of her. It was a fifty-five gallon drum on wheels, armed with an industrial-strength taser on one arm, a small caliber chain gun on the other, and one look at the armored chassis let her know her little flechette pistol wasn’t going to do anything but scratch the finish.

“Uh… sneaking in to see my boyfriend?” she croaked.

*   *   *   *   *

The gardens were quiet – most of the revelers passed out or gone home. There was one exception – Shadrille, a barbarian warrior of great renown — passed out under his pear trees, still in her armor. The game allowed for as many outfits as you cared to create, but Bobby had always admired the purity of her character conception. She had two states – naked or in armor – and only her husband, both in-game and in real life, had seen her character naked. Helifert, her husband, had logged off to relieve the babysitter and take care of the kids while she had partied on. Bobby vaguely remembered a drinking game she’d started, based on recognizing character battle cries cribbed from literature, 3-D’s or any other form of popular entertainment. When she finally left her VR rig, she was going to have the mother of all psychosomatic hang-overs. That or she’d find someone to help her remedy the situation before she logged out.

Her snoring wasn’t enough to disturb his solitude.

He remembered when he’d had his tower built – he’d saved his money for over a hundred levels, spending time offline researching architecture – and then stretching it to what could theoretically be achieved when magic was added to the mix.

His final design had impressed even the game’s creators, which took some doing. He was content the tower would go on, used by another player and probably another player after that.

But he would miss it.

He would miss everything.

*   *   *   *   *

“Now why don’t I believe you, chica? You always come to see him wearing a jammer suit?”

The voice was so full of scorn it could even be discerned through the cheap speaker on the security drone.

Manny was caught square in the middle of her own blind spot.

Bobby wasn’t there, electronically, to corrupt the security systems, spoof the cameras, disable the alarms.

Joe wasn’t there to improvise some brilliant plan to get around a ‘bot armed to the teeth and monitored by building security… or if all else failed, to whip out a weapon that could turn it into a sparking, smoldering scrap heap.

She’d never had to do anything like this without their help and while intellectually she knew they weren’t there, she’d gone charging in as if they were.

Manny had never felt so utterly alone and vulnerable in her life.

Think it through, sis… it’s just a machine, run by a rent-a-cop. You’re smarter than both of them put together.

For a moment she would have sworn she was back in their apartments, studying some devilish puzzle her brother had arranged for her.

Joe, this isn’t anything you ever taught me to do – this is your and Bobby’s thing.

Doesn’t matter, Manny – it’s still just another puzzle.

Its cameras were small, four of them – front, right, left, rear. They gave it almost 360 degree vision, except for one blind spot – a blind spot she bet was shared by the weapons mounted on the arms – simple design, simple design flaw.

Without thinking about it, she leapt to the top of the cylindrical machine and huddled down.

Okay, smart ass, she thought, now what?

The operator was driving the drone forwards and back, trying to shake her off, the arms waving around, trying to get a shot at her, to no avail.

Like Joe always said, if you don’t have the right tool – and you should always have the right tool – improvise.

Her small thermal lance, perfect for cutting through walls and the doors to safes… she was pretty sure it would work on securi-bot armor as well.

A few moments later, the drone’s brain was melted like butter, its cameras inoperative… and Manny was waiting for the guards, the back of her suit stuck to the ceiling. She was ready to get the drop on them literally and figuratively.

*   *   *   *   *

Thanking silently the wise souls who had brought so many sobriety charms, Entogra staggered through the arched doorway of his private chambers, hoping against hope someone had paused to consider breakfast the next morning as necessary party planning.

He didn’t remember vast portions of the night before… vague recollections of a hurried conference with his solicitors concerning the final liquidation of his assets… the City Guard expressing its displeasure at mostly-naked party guests leaping from the balcony, crashing to the streets below only to quaff a potion or fire off a spell and head back up to do it again… setting Alsoo free in a teary ceremony for all concerned, watching him fly off toward the ice-bound peaks where he’d been born… the City Guard expressing its extreme displeasure at the impromptu fireworks display created when eighteen wizards of the highest orders had decided to show off their skills… so many naked bodies of both sexes, and maybe even new sexes, and made up of many, if not all, of the  races occupying Cyn’Ko’Taar, that the ballroom became a multi-hued mosaic of flesh and lust, akin to a great pile of frantic ferrets during mating season … the Imperial Guard’s most extreme displeasure at endless choruses of some strange song entitled “Louie Louie”, projected into the Imperial Grounds by magic as thirty or so drunken revelers floated nearby in a cloud gondola… it had truly been a celebration for the bards to sing of for generations to come.

If said bards had any better luck remembering it than Entogra did.

He plunged his head beneath the icy waters of an ornamental fountain, and after his shriek stopped echoing through the marble halls, made his way back to the grand ballroom to find a well-appointed breakfast buffet where he fortified himself for the ordeal ahead.

*   *   *   *   *

With the guards bound and gagged, Manny moved on to the server room – if the security drone had been a problem and the guards had been a concern, the three tech geeks were a walk in the park.

“Look, sport, I don’t care why you think you can’t do it, I’m telling you that you can, and you will,” Manny said, her voice calm and non-threatening but backed by the whine from the spinning ceramic wheel of the flechette pistol in her hand.

“Uh, lady,” Simmons, the pale and flabby technician in charge of the servers replied, “if we shut these down our company loses customer confidence, our game loses players and we probably lose our jobs!”

She pulled the trigger, bringing the blade inside the pistol into contact with the whining wheel, shaving and expelling a burst of tiny shards into the wall, leaving it looking like it had been doused with acid.

“Jobs, lives, jobs, lives… which do you think is more important, sport?”

*   *   *   *   *

He could almost believe, as he made his way through the streets of the capital’s Oldtown residential district, he was out for a morning stroll, another Imperial citizen taking in the air.

That’s what he tried hard to believe, all the way through the Temple District, paying the gods homage with a nod of his head to each as he made his way past their temples’ pillared porticoes, serenaded by birdsong and the chants of the priests.

But when he reached the Judgment Gate, the gate leading to only one road – the winding path to the lip of De’alaat and his fiery destiny, there was no more pretending.

*   *   *   *   *

“Is this going to hurt anyone, suddenly getting booted from their game?” she asked, worrying at last about the larger circumstances.

“No… there will be some disorientation, possibly an upset stomach or twenty, but that’ll be the worst of it,” Simmons replied. “Carl, get ready to cut power to the servers!”

“Wait, is there any way you can talk to a single player?”

“Uh, no ma’am… I mean, I’m not lying to you, we can’t do that. The GM’s could, but they’re located in San Jose. I could call them, but you said this was kinda time sensitive.”

Her face fell and she ground her teeth together, unwanted tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.

“But ma’am,” Simmons continued, “we can make an announcement to all the players.”

*   *   *   *   *

He stood at the precipice, foul vapors rising past him, their stench making him weave back and forth as he contemplated the fall before him. He had just one more thing to do, one more step, and it would all be over and done with.

There was a slight disturbance in his thoughts, a mental ‘clearing of the throat’ signalling an incoming message from those he and his fellow players laughingly called ‘the real gods of Cyn’Ko’Taar’.

“BOBBY, I CAN’T LET YOU DO THIS,” Manny’s voice echoed in his head, “YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME.”

And then the universe blinked out of existence.

*   *   *   *   *

“We got two ways we can do this, boys,” Manny said as the server room fell silent and she examined the servers. “I can just give you time to get out and blow up the servers, make sure they don’t come back up in time for my friend-”

“Your friend who may already be dead,” Simmons interjected.

“Yeah, my friend who may already be dead,” she grimaced as she continued. “I like that solution; it guarantees me nobody can get stupid. Or I could tie you three up and leave, figuring Bobby’s had his plans ruined and will come looking for me.”

“Uh, ma’am, what’s your friend’s name, in the game I mean?” asked Carl. “If you don’t blow up the servers, while they’re down we can get hold of a GM, make sure his account’s frozen, in case he decides to wait it out and go through with his plan when the serves come back up.”

From endless attempts to interest her, and Joe as well, in his obsession, she could reel off the character’s name without thinking.

“Entogra, E, N, T, O, G, R, A… that enough to go on?”

She turned from her examination to see the three of them staring at her with open mouths and wide, white eyes.

“Lady, you didn’t say your friend was ‘Entogra’,” Carl said, almost babbling. “See that junction, right there?” he asked, pointing at one anonymous box with wires going in and out of it among many looking essentially the same. “You don’t have to blow nothing up; you shoot the shit out of that, we’ll be lucky to be back up within eight hours. Go on!”

She kept the trigger depressed and the hailstorm of ceramic shards did their job, eating away at the junction, sanding it down layer by layer, sparks flying while the noise level grew with popping and spitting sounds. When all that was left of her target was a vaguely box-shaped expanse of pitted wall, she turned and looked at Carl.

“Why? What difference does his damn… character, avatar, whatever’s name make?”

“Ma’am,” Simmons replied, “if your friend is really Entogra, he’s been playing that character since the game was in beta test. He’s a legend, even though I don’t think anyone but the accounting department knows who he really is, and the info they have is probably just a front. Hell, he’s been a de-facto GM for the last couple of years… he gets there faster than the wage slaves who’re on duty. He can be a lot more helpful since I guarantee he’s been playing longer than any of those dweebs. I’m damn sure he knows more about the game’s architecture than a lot of the guys who coded it.”

Simmons bowed his head. “If that’s who you’re trying to save, well, I really hope we shut it down in time.”

*   *   *   *   *

Bobby found himself swallowing warm saliva as it gushed into his mouth, his stomach roiling as he staggered from his VR rig to the bathroom. He hung his head over the toilet, staring at the shallow pool of water in the bowl for several minutes, still swallowing furiously, until his stomach settled and he felt confident he wasn’t going to hurl if he moved too quickly.

He threw on some clothes as he phoned for a pedi-cab and soon found himself seated behind a young Asian woman who pedalled furiously to get them up to traffic speed.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he said, unaware of the tears flowing down his cheeks, “please don’t think you need to hurry.”

*   *   *   *   *

When she was younger, Manny could, without even noticing, lose herself in the chaos and uproar of the city, living purely second-to-second. She knew when she did that, she reacted to problems and obstacles impulsively and stupidly, but the madness was so seductive, so bright and loud and distracting, she was incapable of resisting.

Long before they’d made it out of the crèche, long before she’d ever even realized what Joe was doing, he’d begun passing on to her through example and gentle instruction the calming and focusing techniques he was being taught in his martial arts classes.  One of the crèche employees had started them, hoping to bring some self-discipline and self-respect to those wards willing to apply themselves. Joe took to it like a club-kid to drugs.

And when they’d gotten out of the crèche and into the barracks, he made the instruction more formal. They’d stood in their tiny room on an exercise mat, face to face.

“Manuelita-”

“Jose,” she replied, threateningly.

“All right, Manny,” he’d amended, ruffling her hair, “you’ve got to be able to focus your attention. Your part in all this requires it. No matter what’s going on, inside or outside of you, you must be able to center yourself and ignore everything else that’s going on, focus your attention into a razor, sharp and deadly, and apply that razor to whatever problem confronts you.” He’d picked her up and hugged her close then, murmured in her ear, “Because I’m afraid the day will come where your life will depend on it.”

He’d put her back down gently and the real instruction had begun. Hours and days and months of training, tears and fights and stony silences hurting both of them more than they’d ever let on, but finally, they’d both been comfortable with her ability to shut out the world. She didn’t need to be aware of anything but the problem before her… Joe was there to worry about any and everything else.

It had served her well over the years, but now she cursed it.

In the Para Sol building, she’d been so totally involved in bypassing the security on the safe where their prize awaited she’d never even heard it when Joe slumped to the floor, probably dead before he even began his descent to the cold tile beneath their feet. She’d had the door open, the data drives in her hand, before she turned and saw him sprawled at her side. Her brother had died, effectively alone, less than a foot from her. She knew Bobby had been recording them, standard procedure, so if Joe had uttered any last words she could listen to them… but there was no way to say goodbye to a recording… or to the slagged puddle inside the ambulance’s wreck. There were the discs in her bag, a client who would be pleased, and if she’d been fast enough, there would be Bobby. A young man wounded to the core, raw and bleeding, who quite possibly would want to kill her for stopping him from ending himself.

She pulled off her armor, her mask, and the suit beneath, relishing the rush of cool air across her sweat-soaked body. A quick pass through the shower removed the stench. She threw on a leotard and used her training once more.

Manny centered herself, calmly put the device that had killed her brother on a small table close to the door, went to the center of the room and effortlessly folded down into lotus, waiting for her friend, perhaps her executioner, to arrive.

*   *   *   *   *

All too soon the cabbie delivered him at the apartment and Bobby bypassed the elevator for the stairs, wanting to delay seeing Manny as long as possible. He wasn’t sure why she’d stopped him, maybe she wanted to kill him herself for not locking down whatever it was that had killed Joe… he’d thought he’d found everything, every little security subsystem, every alarm, every camera, sensor and microphone.

He’d missed something though, no way around it. Joe was dead.

*   *   *   *   *

She heard him approach the door, heard the locks snap open as he used his key, but still she sat in lotus, eyes closed, as the door swung open.

“Bobby, before you do anything, look at what’s on the table. Examine it. Tell me what it is,” she said, finally opening her eyes to look at the pale, trembling young man before her. His blond hair was matted and tangled, still as tight against his skull as the VR headpiece had left it, and his eyes were red-rimmed craters in his face.

He picked up the small, crushed, spider-like device from the table, peered at it, and then knelt down, pulling out a small assortment of tools and such from his pockets. He hooked small LED flashlights over his ears, pointed them forward, and started to poke and prod the device with instruments Manny couldn’t begin to recognize.

“Okay Manny… this is… that’s odd… now why… oh… but… okay.”

With that he leaned back. “You know this thing is as illegal as hell? Para Sol gets caught with one of these… why, they might be fined as much as 250,000 euros.” He giggled, a disturbing sound letting Manny know just how close he was to losing it. “Not that their bottom line would even notice.

“It’s an automated defense system, rudimentary intelligence, set and forget,” he continued, letting the business at hand calm him. “If I can recover anything from the brain, I suspect it’ll show a set of instructions like ‘kill anyone in this section between 8PM and 6AM’, or something very similar. Evade detection during the day, recharge from any available power outlets. You’re lucky there was only one… of course, from the amount of ‘whatever’ in the reservoir, and I suspect it’s some kind of black market neurotoxin, one was all they needed.” He rubbed his eyes. “Most companies don’t use these things – not because they’re illegal, the megas laugh at laws like that – but because the human element is unpredictable. Since any identification system can be bypassed or subverted, these kill indiscriminately during their hours of operation… and people really suck at obeying the rules. Para Sol probably covers up three or four deaths a year due to employees being where they shouldn’t when they shouldn’t. How did Joe kill it?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, “he was dead on the floor and it was crushed in his hand when I finished with the safe. Best I can figure, he saw it, or felt it, and as it was injecting him he was killing it. And I agree with your analysis, Bobby. There was no way you could know it was there, much less stop it… oh, there may be some entry in the accounts payable records that if we examined real closely might eventually lead us to whoever sold it to someone at Para Sol, but I wouldn’t bet on it. There was nothing you could’ve done… nothing I could’ve done… nothing Joe could’ve done.”

As the realization he wasn’t responsible for his lover’s death began to sink into Bobby, his muscles refused to hold him upright and he sank to the floor. He curled up into a fetal-ball of misery, and Manny could see his sobs shake his whole body, the convulsions coming more quickly with each passing second.

She didn’t remember rising from the floor, crossing the intervening space and pulling him into her arms, but wasn’t at all surprised to find she had.

“Why… why couldn’t you let me… let me die?” he heaved, curling up ever tighter as she held him.

“It wasn’t your fault…” her voice cracked and she added her tears to his, “I’m not ready to die… and there was no way I was gonna be left behind alone.” Her body shuddered as the pain clawed its way out of her like an animal fighting to free itself from a trap. “If you want to die so damn bad, Bobby… you’re going to kill me… and I really wish you wouldn’t.”

An hour later when all their tears had been shed, the two of them stared at each other, red-and-hollow-eyed husks momentarily drained of pain.

“So,” Bobby rasped, “what now?”

“Depends,” Manny replied. “You ready to retire? You want to try putting a new team together? You want to burn Para Sol to the ground?”

“Maybe. Not really, but I don’t see any other option if we’re going to keep working. Oh yeah, you bet your bike I do – literally and figuratively.”

“Oh shit, my bike!” Manny got up and grabbed her helmet, syncing it with the bike. “Okay, cops didn’t get it – looks like there’s enough juice in the deterrence systems to keep it safe for a while longer… Phone – Aquila…” She waited as the call was completed. “Aquila, got a pickup for you. Home in on my bike, bring my baby back to me, okay?” She listened for a moment. “Yeah, hazard bonus because of pickup location… no problem. See you later.”

Taking off the helmet she frowned at the smell of it.

“Damn, got to get this thing cleaned…” She put it back with her clothes and returned to the mat. Bobby was standing at the mat’s edge.

“So Bobby, what next?”

He walked to the door.

“Don’t worry Manny, I’m not going to kill myself… but I’m going to need some time… maybe a lot of time. Meet you Sunday at ‘El Diablo de Corazon’ for brunch?”

“Yeah, Bobby, 11 sound good?”

The young man who stared back at her looked ten years older than he had the day before.

“That’ll be fine. I gotta go – I’ve got some explosives to disarm, and then, as soon as the servers are back up, I have to see about jumping into a volcano.”

“You’re still going through with it?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “when I created Entogra… let’s just say there’s a lot of Joe in him. Joe’s dead and so is he.”

Manny shook her head as he left. She’d never understand gamers.

*   *   *   *   *

Six months and some-odd weeks later, Manny was in hell.

“Do I have to do this, Bobby?” Manny asked, squirming in the VR rig.

“Yes, Manny, it’s part of the deal. Listen, by the time we have to log off and get ready to interview the first applicant, you’ll be having so much fun you won’t want to stop.”

“Or I will have killed both of us in a huge fit of self-loathing… all right, let’s get it over with.”

Vort’ai Kalathut, the young Sylvat archer from the forests of Civavia and his companion Manny – just ‘Manny’ – a Pa’aktheer thief from the gutters of Melotiir, stepped off the boat onto the docks of Shagnar, under the gold and red suns that brought warmth and light to the land.

Vort’ai bounded forward, ready for anything.

Manny shrugged her shoulders and trudged after him, growling as Vort’ai blurted out, “C’mon already, Manny, every adventure has to begin somewhere!”

It was going to be a long, long day under the dual suns of Cyn’Ko’Taar.