Chapter 7

A Dwarf Sends His Regards

 

 

Shea and Tony made three more calls after installing the rig at what they’d come to call the Rich Bitch’s house. All the other stops were standard component swaps and tune-ups at MetaSpot businesses, which was good as Tony had been so upset by the audacious display of wealth, Shea worried he’d have a heart attack during one of his rants. Besides, his words sometimes hit a little close to home.

Shea agreed, in principle, with most of Tony’s sentiments, but her parents were successful professional people, and unlike Tony, who’d grown up in poverty, she had come from the upper middle class. Her parent’s home was nothing like the Rich Bitch’s to be sure, but it would be worthy of Tony’s ire. Shea treated her comfortable upbringing as something of an embarrassing secret, especially around her boss.

It was a little after five when they pulled into the InVerse service center parking lot. Tony stopped the van in front of her motorcycle.

“Another day, another Metabuck, kid.”

“You don’t want any help putting the tools away?”

“Nah, I got it. Go get a jump on your weekend.”

“Thanks, boss,” she said, opening her door.

“Wait. I got something for you.” He reached behind his seat and produced a small InVerse component box and handed it to her. “This ought to give that bucket of spare parts you waste all your time in a little more kick.”

She took the box and opened it. Inside was a circuit board which she recognized as an OmniRig Central Control Processor card. The circuit board, known to techs by its abbreviation: CCP, matched the movements in the Metaverse to the real movements in the rig and cybersuit. It controlled how physical body movements were mapped to Verse movements and how Verse movements were mapped to physical motion in the rig. It was the heart of the system. Every rig had one, but like the class disparity Tony railed against, not all CCPs were equal. There were basic units that did the job for most users, and then there were more advanced, and expensive, units with faster chipsets and memory that gave their users an edge in high-intensity movements like those needed for competitive sports and fighting. The unit in the box was a next generation ultra-high-end model. It was a twenty thousand dollar part.

“Holy shit, Tony. Where did you get this?”

He grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”

She stared at him as realization dawned. “You swapped out Rich Bitch’s CCP, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What did you replace it with?”

“The one from her old rig. Good, but not like that one.” He nodded toward the board. “Seems those Other-people-like-us reported it was damaged and claimed they dispo’d it.” He winked at her.

“Oh my God. This is amazing, but if her old one is damaged, won’t it just cause her problems again?”

“Nope. It tested fine. The only thing wrong with her old rig was her.”

Shea studied the board, wanting to keep it, but worried about getting Tony in trouble. He needed the job. “I don’t know, boss. What if someone finds out?”

“Who’s gonna find out? Do you think she needs that kinda power for her excursions?” He made air quotes when he said excursions.

Shea tucked the box into her backpack and punched his shoulder. “Catch you Monday,” she said as she hopped out of the van.

“Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Take some time out of your Versing to study. You need to finish your classes or you’re going to end up like me… just an old tech fixing rich people’s shit.”

“Aw, c’mon, boss. I could do a lot worse. I like what we do. In fact, even after I finish school, I’m still going to ride around fixing rich people’s shit with you.” She shut the door and Tony drove off. She watched the van disappear around the building. Shea didn’t have the heart to tell Tony she had earned her degree in biochemistry in May and now had no idea what she was going to do with it. Her parents expected her to go to medical school as they had, but Shea didn’t want to be a medical doctor. Healing the sick was a noble profession, but it didn’t excite her. She was a hunter, even if all her hunting took place in a simulated world.

* * *

The roads were clogged with thousands of commuters all engaged in the same stop-and-go struggle to get home and put the workweek behind them. She weaved her bike from one open patch of roadway to another, threading through the mass of cars in the same way she zigzagged to avoid obstacles in the InVerse testing course. Lean right, then back over to the left, careful not too far, a little throttle, then some brake; not too much and never while turning; then a twist of throttle and bolt forward through an opening, taking care not to clip a truck’s mirror. There was a rhythm to it. Once she was in the groove, she could move through the dense forest of cars like the deer on Jade Mountain raced between the evergreens; at least, as long as there were no cops.

She made it to the old cement block and metal roof industrial shed she called home without being crushed between angry drivers or pulled over. When she’d first offered to rent the boarded up and somewhat dilapidated structure, the owner had told her over its long history the building had been used for everything from a farm equipment repair shop to a church, but Shea was the first to live in it. It had everything she needed, plumbing, electricity, heat, and most importantly, ceilings more than high enough to accommodate an OmniRig. It was also cheap.

The single tall metal bay door retracted as she approached, triggered by her phone when she crossed an invisible GPS fence line. It rattled to a close once she and the bike were inside. The building had four rooms, including the large bay area where she spent most of her time. The bay contained her rig and several metal shelves and workbenches filled with her tools and electronic components in various states of disassembly. She’d carved out a small section for a living room which she’d furnished from a thrift store. Her bedroom was once a small office, and a tiny breakroom served as her kitchen. She’d done a little creative plumbing to allow a bare bones bathroom with a drain in the center of its concrete floor to double as a walk-in shower. It was spartan, some would say to the extreme, but to her it was heaven.

A slender black cat dropped from a shelf as Shea removed her helmet, and the cat padded across the floor toward her, meowing loudly as she came.

“Well, hello there, Trinity. Did you miss me?” Shea cooed as she ran her hand along the excited feline’s arching back. “I bet you’re hungry.”

She scooped up the cat and carried her into the kitchen. “It’s going to be a late night tonight, girl,” she cooed while spooning cat food into a dish as Trinity watched and purred like a buzz saw. “I can’t wait to see what this new CCP can do.” Grabbing a bottle of water and a pear, she left Trinity to her dinner and returned to the bay. She took a seat behind the desk she’d fashioned from an old wooden door and sawhorses and logged into her laptop to catch up on her messages.

Shea had several email mailboxes to go through. She had her personal box which she shared only with family and close friends, taking great pains to guard it from the nonstop message pollution everyone was subject to, her work box, her seldom used dating box, and an account for Darshana’s off-SIM communication. This is the one she used to conduct Land of Might and Magic business.

Munching on the pear, she scanned through Darshana’s emails. A message from Xu caught her attention. He demanded she return the money he and the rest of his party had paid her to guide them through their initial LMM journey. Fat chance. She contemplated telling him to fuck off but tapped out a more civilized response.

She spoke out loud as she typed, “Dear Xu, though I am sorry your team members did not complete the expedition, no promises were made as to the survival of your characters. You received excellent training and experience and now are all well prepared to enter the Land on your own. Of course, I can’t claim my safe passage bonus, as you all died because you were morons and lit a fire for no good reason.” She took a deep breath and erased the last sentence. “I wish you and the rest of your team all the best and look forward to our next meeting. Safe travels and may the Seven Wizards bless you. Darshana.” She winced after typing the corny phrase.

Several other messages asking about her guide services cluttered Darshana’s inbox. The questions were almost always the same, and she had keystroke macros that pasted in most of the answers. How much? Depends on the party size. Do you train singles? As long as you pay the fifty-coin minimum. How long? Plan on five treks, each taking between two and three hours. What will we learn? Everything you need to survive between the Gates. Do you guarantee completion? No, and I get a five-coin bonus for each member who makes it from the starting gate to the end.

Finished with Darshana’s emails, she moved on to her personal account. As expected, she found a note from her mother asking again when she was going to send out her med school applications. Shea thought about replying “never” but promised instead to apply when she reviewed her MCAT results, which, unbeknownst to her mother, remained unopen on Shea’s dresser since being delivered a month ago. No doubt she’d get into her parent’s alma mater. Though, if she desired anything less than going to med school, it was going to med school in Philadelphia. Another message was from a former classmate also inquiring about her application status. It’s a full-on conspiracy, she thought. Then she came to a message that made her drop the pear core on her keyboard.

“Greetings from a Dwarf!”

“What the fuck?” She said out loud, wiping pear juice from the keys. She never gave her personal email to anyone in LMM.

She opened the message, hearing Falin’s Boston accent in her mind as she read. “Greetings, Darshana, or should I call you Shea? This is your old friend, Falin. You know, the Dwarf you left to lose his head on Jade Mountain? No hard feelings. I got my head back, but I did lose all my experience points. Fucker didn’t give me enough time to bury my Shēngmìnglì. I hate that friggin word, by the way. Xperion should stop using appropriated Chinese and call it lifeforce. Anyway, as you can see, I know who you are, which I bet is driving you nuts. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. You remain Clark Kent to the Real, but I know you are the Land’s wicked, badass Superman, or, I guess, Superwoman. Let’s get together. Meet me at the Hunter’s Horn at Staghead Gate tonight, 10:00 p.m., Atlanta time. Cheers.”

Trinity jumped onto the desk, startling Shea. She stroked the cat’s sleek black fur. “How did that little man, assuming that’s what it is, learn who I am? This is bad, Trin. Really bad.”