Hero's Journey: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 2) Read online

  Jack nodded slowly; or at least, he felt like nodding. All of that was true. Marshfield Studio had pulled his account log, and his tens of thousands of hours of playtime. They’d gone over the bugs he’d discovered and reported – and exploited – during gameplay. They’d told him as much when he arrived for his first interview: his extensive gaming history was one of the factors they took into consideration.

  He’d played just about every videogame he could get his hands on. He’d played the classics, and the new releases; the greats and the duds. He knew videogames, almost better than he knew real life.

  So he figured he could take anything videogames could throw at him – videogames, or the apparatus around them. Plus, after a speech like that, he didn’t want to let Mr. Callaghan down. He didn’t want to chicken out. Not in front of the CEO of Marshfield Studio. Or, for that matter, Jordan.

  “Do it,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Alright,” Roberts said, “for the record, let it be noted that the subject has again consented to the treatment.”

  Chapter Seven

  At first, Jack was inclined to agree with Avery’s assessment that Daniels must have been a lesser man than himself. The driver upgrade process started without a hitch. He felt a slight tingle, but nothing more.

  Dr. Roberts told Jack to pretend he was closing his eyes, and to focus on nothing but the sound of his voice. Roberts’s monotone wasn’t the most exciting focal point, but if that was the worst of his ordeal, Jack could certainly deal with it.

  It wasn’t, though. Roberts repeated, “Keep listening to my voice. That’s right, Jack, just listen to my voice. There we go,” about a dozen times. Then the pain kicked in.

  Jack had never had a poker shoved through his eye, so he couldn’t say for sure what it would feel like. But he suspected it would be something like having a driver upgrade applied to the hardware hooked directly to your brain.

  It started with a piercing sensation so intense he saw white light. It got worse, and worse – and somehow, worse.

  Then the pressure began to build in his skull. It wasn’t an external pressure, like something squeezing down on his head. This was internal, like his brain was trying to bust out of his cranium. The light flared up again, in great, stabbing waves of brightness.

  Jack screamed. Or, he thought he screamed. He couldn’t be sure if he managed to get the sound out, or if he just felt it. Because he was feeling everything else. Every nerve in his body, every fiber of his being, felt like it was on fire. He tried to say he’d changed his mind. He tried to say he didn’t want the upgrade after all, that he’d just finish the game and get out that way.

  But the pain kept on coming, for seconds, or minutes, or hours. He wasn’t sure. He hurt so much he could barely think, much less accurately tell time.

  And then, as abruptly as it began, the pain ended. He lay there, stunned in the aftermath. A tentative voice asked, “Jack?”

  He breathed in and out. “Am I…still alive?”

  Avery Callaghan laughed apprehensively. Then he whispered, in tones that were almost inaudible, “God, Roberts, tell me we don’t have another Xi Incident on our hands.”

  The doctor’s voice answered in the same low way, “No, I’m reading full brain function.”

  Jordan, meanwhile, asked, “A what incident?”

  “Nothing. Never mind. Actually, I believe you should step out of the room.”

  “Mister Callaghan?”

  “For patient privacy reasons,” Roberts put in. “HIPAA and HITECH and all that.”

  “Oh. Alright.”

  Jack heard footsteps, and a door open and close. Then Avery Callaghan asked, “Alright, Jack, how are you feeling?”

  “Like someone stuck a poker through my eye and twisted it around.”

  The other man laughed again. “Well, uh, that’s definitely not what we wanted to hear.”

  “On the plus side, that’s what the last subject reported feeling, and he was able to get out,” Roberts put in.

  “Right. Exactly. Let’s focus on the silver lining for now.”

  Jack groaned. He felt numb and exhausted from the pain. “What’s the Xi Incident?”

  “The what?”

  “You said something about the Xi Incident. What was that?”

  “Oh, that? Just a guy who had a minor accident early on.”

  “How minor?”

  “Minor. But forget about that, Jack. Let’s try to get you out of there. You should be able to just pull yourself out now. You remember the steps?”

  “I do.” It was easy, at least when the system worked: he saved, if he needed to, and said, “Return to prime universe.” The game would release him, and his brain would reassert control over his body. Easy as pie.

  He took a deep breath, and said, “Return to prime universe.”

  Nothing happened. He tried again. “Return to prime universe.” Again, nothing happened.

  “Well, that’s not good,” Avery said.

  “Let’s resume the game,” Roberts suggested. “Get you through the cutscene and have you say it then.”

  Jack did as they asked and returned to the game. The familiar scene inside the wizard’s sitting room reappeared. Ieon continued his sentence. He’d been in the process of telling Jack, “You must –” before the pause. Now, he resumed with, “put aside any enmities of these intervening years. You must come together for victory, or you will all fall separately.”

  Migli promised that they would, and Jack’s avatar offered a few similar platitudes about the fate of mankind and so on. Then the wizard told them that he would give them a map to the spire. “It is far to the north of here, beyond the impassable mountains. There is only one route by land, and it is guarded by a great and ancient dragon.

  “The spire is a day’s ride north of the pass. I will teach you the phrase you will need to enter. You will find the stone in the uppermost chamber. Peer into it, and you will see what you are meant to see.

  “But I must caution you: sometimes, the orb shows us things we did not intend to see. It follows its own will. It shows what we must know, not what we would choose to know.”

  Then, the cinematic ended, and the view returned to Jack’s familiar first person. He was seated across from the imperious old man, and a few seats over from the dwarf. He said, “Return to prime universe.”

  Nothing happened. So, just for good measure he rose from his seat. “Return to prime universe.” When that produced no results, he moved a few steps away from his seat, and repeated the command.

  His mind stayed in the game, his thoughts controlling not his own physical body, but his avatar. “Son-of-a-biscuit. It didn’t work.”

  “I’m afraid not. Well, take heart, Jack: at least nothing bad happened.”

  “Nothing bad? It felt like my head went through a gosh darned blender.” Gosh darned, of course, wasn’t what he’d meant, and he scowled at how comically short of the mark it came.

  Avery seemed to catch his drift anyway, though, because he adopted a placating tone. “I know, Jack. Believe me, I know. But look at it this way: when you are ready to come up, you’ll have the most up-to-date software available to make sure your transition is smooth.”

  “If finishing the game actually works.”

  “It will,” the other man assured. “My engineers are confident: the old build is still in memory because there’s an active session. But as soon as the active session comes to an end, the build will update. And once the update comes through, you’ll be free.”

  Jack wasn’t thrilled with the outcome, or the attempt, or Mr. Callaghan’s efforts to placate him. But he did take heart that at least nothing had really changed: he’d resigned himself to having to finish the game before, and now he still needed to finish the game.

  So short of the brain blending, everything was more or less alright. Still, the thought of getting out early had filled him with a giddy excitement. Having it all come to nothing, and suffering acutely in the process, hadn’t
done much for his mood.

  So when Jordan signed back on, she found a very glum captive audience. “You doing okay, Jack?” she asked. She was using some kind of direct line into the game, so he heard everything in her real voice, and not through the Migli filter.

  It was a little jarring. Not because there was anything wrong with her voice. On the contrary, it was a very nice voice – very empathetic and pleasant. But he was used to communicating via the gruff dwarf’s avatar. “Fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I mean, I feel like someone scrambled my brain with an ice pick, and I’m still a prisoner in this danged game. But other than that, sure, I’m fine.”

  Jordan sighed. It wasn’t an exasperated sigh, like she was annoyed by his attitude or sarcasm. It was an empathetic sigh, like she got it; like she wished there was something to be done. “I’m sorry, Jack. This whole thing – it stinks.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Short of busting me out of the VR rig? I don’t think so.”

  “You sure? You don’t want another stack of pancakes, or a nice cup of coffee?”

  That got his attention. Technically, Jordan wasn’t supposed to spawn items like that. They were part of a DLC package – downloadable content that would go on the market a few months after the game released. His stomach growled at the prospect. “Well…I haven’t really eaten anything but coconuts and pork steaks. I guess I wouldn’t mind pancakes. And a nice latte, or two.”

  “I think, in the circumstances, we can do two.”

  He grinned. “Good.”

  “Anything else?”

  “You got bacon?”

  In answer, a plate full of crispy bacon slices appeared on a side table near his chair. Two steaming mugs of coffee and a giant platter of pancakes materialized beside it. Jack’s stomach growled again as the smell of a perfect breakfast wafted his way. “Thanks, Jordan. I owe you one.”

  He ate, and she hung around to talk to him. He guessed she felt sorry for him, and maybe wanted to make sure the brain blending he’d talked about had been all metaphor, and nothing more sinister. It made him feel a little like a needy child. But, on the other hand, he didn’t want to be alone just yet. His head still felt woozy after the metaphorical brain blending. Roberts and Callaghan had hightailed it out of the room as soon as possible after their plan failed. And he didn’t want to be stuck with nothing but artificial intelligence to talk to.

  He wolfed down more bacon than would have been healthy in real life, and more pancakes too. He made it through both cups of coffee and bummed a third off Jordan. This, he slipped into his inventory, where it would keep – piping hot and as good as ever – for when he needed a boost later on.

  Then he asked, “Did you catch what they said about the ‘Xi Incident’? Avery and Roberts, I mean.”

  “No. I mean, I heard them mention it, but I didn’t hear what it was.”

  “Me either. They clammed up when I tried asking about it, too. Which – honestly – is a little worrying.”

  Jordan didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if she thought he was overreacting and reading too much into it, or if she agreed – but didn’t want to go on record, since she worked for Callaghan.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know. But I didn’t like it either. It sounded like – well, like maybe someone had a bad experience.”

  “Someone named Xi?”

  “That’s my guess. But – I’m just guessing, Jack. It might be some kind of simulation they ran, or something some other company did. It could be any of a thousand things. It’s important we don’t jump to conclusions.”

  He snorted. “Important why? Because he’s your boss, so it’s okay if he scrambled someone’s brain?”

  “Of course not,” she said, and something like mortification came through. “Important because coming up with worst case scenarios – especially if they’re wrong – isn’t going to help you get through the game. You need to stay focused and comfortable. If your mind starts rejecting the merge – well, I don’t know what’s going to happen. We’ve never seen that on someone who was in the game like you are. It happens when people plug in. But theoretically, it’s a possibility afterwards too. And the more agitated you get, the more likely it becomes.”

  “Oh,” he said. He felt a little bad for the hasty conclusions he’d reached, and his accusatory tone. He felt worse about the idea of winding up brain pudding. “So, what happens if I do? Do I end up cooking my brain for real?”

  “I don’t know. Like I say, it’s never happened before. But I don’t want you to find out.”

  “Me either.”

  “Good. So maybe we can save the speculation for after you’re out, okay?”

  He considered, then nodded. “Alright. But hey, will you promise me one thing?”

  “Maybe. Depends what it is.”

  He could hear the amusement in her tone, and he smiled too. “If you do find out anything, you’ll tell me? Even if it’s bad news. I promise, I won’t freak out or anything. I just want to know.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Jordan, come on. Promise me.”

  “What if it is bad news? What if it’s really bad news?”

  “I’d rather know than not.”

  “You say that now. But if I tell you, then it’s too late.”

  “See, now I’m going to be worrying that you’re hiding something from me, Jordan. Who knows: I might end up having the brain separation you’re worried about just thinking about what you’re concealing.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  He clutched his head in mock pain. “Oh God. I can feel it coming on already.”

  “Alright, alright: I promise, as long as you promise not to freak out.”

  “Deal.”

  She snorted. He imagined she was rolling her eyes at his promise, so easily and thoughtlessly given. But she said, “Alright. Well, you ate now. So you better go talk to the wizard and get on with the business of getting out of there.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jack talked to the wizard, and he got an alert that a map and a key had been added to his inventory. Then, Ieon said, “You will need to prepare yourself for the journey, traveler. I would assist you if I could, but, alas, my time is not my own these days.”

  Here, he had three possible responses open to him.

  What troubles you, Sir Wizard? Perhaps I could lighten your load.

  Right. Because I’m sure whatever you’re dealing with is more important than the fate of the world.

  And,

  I recommend you make time, old man. Unless you want to be a demon’s slave, anyway.

  He chose the first option, and Ieon perked up. His whole demeanor shifted: his shoulders eased out of the slump, his posture straightened, and his eyes brightened. “A capital idea. Your assistance would be most appreciated, traveler.”

  Jack sighed. “Of course it would. Okay, what’s the run around this time?”

  “You see, my breeding program requires every moment of my waking time.”

  “Your…breeding program?”

  “You may have noticed the stables on your way toward the cottage. That’s where I house them: my magnificent sky horses.”

  “Sky horses?” he repeated, no less skeptically.

  “Beautiful beasts. Truly remarkable. My goal is to breed the perfect sky horse: one whose endurance and strength can take a man many leagues.

  “But it is time consuming work. Already, I have labored at it many long months. But if you could assist, I would be able to turn my mind to aiding you in your journey.”

  Jack had three responses open to him at this juncture.

  I know little of animal husbandry, but I am eager to learn.

  I can’t imagine anything more tedious, but if that’s what it takes to get your help saving the world, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?

  And,

  I chan
ged my mind, spellcaster. You’re on your own.

  Jack wasn’t eager to learn animal husbandry. Nor was he much of a fan of that particular phrase. He knew what it meant, of course, but that didn’t change the creepy sound of it. So he opted for the second, less polite response.

  The wizard frowned. “Tedious? I hope you will not bring such a mentality to the task at hand. There’s nothing more satisfying than animal husbandry.”

  Jack cringed at the phrasing. “Alright, I’m sorry I said anything. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

  “Very well. Come with me to the pasture. I will explain what needs to be done on the way.”

  They left the palace, or shack, or whatever it was – Jack wasn’t quite sure which was the real deal, and which was the illusion. The wizard led them back up the road, toward the pasture and stables they’d seen earlier. Migli fell to singing about a lass with eyes like sapphires, and Ieon explained his breeding program.

  He was, he told Jack, trying to breed the perfect sky horse. To Jack’s first and most obvious query – what in tarnation is a sky horse? – he explained that the beasts were a type of winged horse. His goal was to hone the traits of endurance, strength, size and speed until he created the perfect specimen. “Such a beast will be able to carry men and burdens in the air for many long leagues.”

  The actual process turned out to be a kind of minigame – a game within the game. Jack hated minigames with a passion that burned hotter than the heat of a thousand suns. Which was, of course, not true. But if asked, that would be his stock response. There had been a few over the years that bucked the trend. The duels and slot machine in NES’s Super Mario Bros 3 had been the first, but others managed to make the cut, to enter into Jack Owens’ Greatest Minigames of All Time list.

  But they were few and far between. And in general, Jack – well, despised them with the burning passion of a thousand suns. Ieon’s description very quickly assured him that this minigame would not be a trendsetter. It would go in the garbage heap of gaming experiences along with the others.

  Jack started with eight family lines of horses. Two of the lines boasted subpar stats, but bright, colorful healthy coats and shiny wing feathers. Each of the remaining six families emphasized some desirable trait: superior strength, size, endurance, intelligence, agility, and speed.