Game On
Wild tendrils of coal-black hair lay against the fresh white bedding, creeping into view as one of the sleeping girlâs eyes crept open and then the next. The ordained considered Alyssalee an aspirant, but this was in title only. The dread of another week at the orphanage left her with an ache in her stomach. Sheâd been under the unloving watch of her hooded overlords for as long as she could remember. The chores, study, devotionalsâall of itâwas the same numb emptiness day after day. No big deal, she thought to herself. Itâs coming together.
The Unicity of Neoteric Unriven Monists assigned labels to keep the orphans housed. Even the unambitious, long-time residents with no stated desire for the work of the Called. Despite her plans for greatness, Alyssalee was unsure of where she was going. She would make it happen, and it would mean something. The thought of this calmed her stomach. The aspirant rolled over in her bedâjust large enough for a child. UNUM exalted frugality, deeming that orphans didnât need space to toss and turn, which over the years left Alyssalee sleeping on the floor after fits of restless sleep.
As the room came into focus, she peered at Gwendelynâs bed, made with precision, as usual. Her roomie kept everything in its proper placeâher hairbrushâs position on her armoire, always at an exact perpendicular angle. You could prove this by measuring these points with a protractor.
The thing with Gwendelyn was that she sought perfection in everything. She had this unreal, over-the-top optimism that everything had its place, and they could achieve anything with diligence. And she carried this through to the mundane tasks of life. Even when dispatched together to polish the many brass accoutrements of the Sisters of Light, Gwendelyn would follow up after Alyssalee to ensure that everything glimmered without as much as a smudge.
Gwendelyn reveled at being a novice of UNUM, much to Alyssaleeâs annoyance. Gwendelyn desired a lifetime of servitude to UNUM. It wouldnât surprise Alyssalee to find Gwendelyn feeding starving children right now, even in her off-time. In contrast, Alyssalee persevered until an escape plan presented itself. The holding pattern she was in caused never-ending consternation between the two girls.
They were friendsâmore like siblingsâwith different viewpoints on most matters. Memories surfaced in Alyssaleeâs mind of them polishing immaculate floors throughout the Sisters of Light side by side. Alyssalee had memorable times growing up with Gwendelyn, but her grim story sucked the joy out of them. Even now, as she took in Gwendelynâs robes hanging in the closet, Alyssaleeâs empty story filled her with gloom. Alyssalee and Gwendeyln grew up together, but their stories of parental loss differed. Gwendelynâs parents were Saints of UNUM, lost while protecting worshippers from frantic mobs at the onset of the Uprising. In contrast, Alyssaleeâs entrance to the world was a mystery. The Sisters found her in a confessional, wrapped in a silk swaddling blanket embroidered with the ornate intertwining arms of UNUMâs emblem. This was the same blanket now shrouding her half-naked body.
Gwendelynâs parents were saints; hers were quitters at best or anarchists at worst.
Desperately needing a distraction, Alyssalee arched her head to the poster hanging above her bed. Beautiful purples, blues, and white spread across a dark, glossy background. A beautiful collage of the magnificent power that the universe held. A power that threw a wave of matter, spanning light-years, across the milky way. She remembered the field trip the Sisters had taken the orphans on to see the observatory. The astronomers had the huge telescope fixed on the Radcliffe Wave. She was too short to reach the eyepiece, so Sister Kline boosted her so that she could get a look. Its beauty overwhelmed her, and it had fascinated her ever since.
Settled for the moment, Alyssalee smoothed over her bed. She paid particular attention to folding her only childhood possession, amazed that it remained whole after these long years. It was still the weekend, and Alyssalee didnât have any additional thralldom to attend to, not for one more day. She was free to do her favorite thing in the worldâplay Sword of Sanctity.
She pulled on her synthfab leggings, which fit as if designed to the specifications of her hips, thighs, and calves. She fancied the painted-on feel of the slick material. They looked kick-ass with the morning sun glimmering across the fabric as if it were the surface of a pristine lake.
She put on her favorite navy halter top, hovering just at the bottom of her sports bra, her chiseled, pale midriff like white marble. She laced up her boots. Her attire looked like the bottom half was prepared for combat and the upper for a dorm party. Nailed it, she thought. She braided her shoulder-length hair, weaving the lilac strands with the black.
Alyssalee made it outside with no intervention from the saintly Sisters and took a rusty levboard from the rack at the street corner. It was nice having the holocade just a quick three-minute jaunt. Luckily, the worn-out levboard could still maintain a consistent eighteen inches off the ground. She removed the levboardâs built-in encephlotrak and positioned it across her temples. Most people operated levboards with manual controls, but Alyssalee preferred to use the encephlotrak. It was a developed skill she was proud of. In her opinion, enjoying the free flow of mind-to-motion was the only way to travel. The streets were full of shoppers navigating their own levboards, though not nearly with the ease of Alyssalee. Sucks to be them, Alyssalee thought.
The Sisters of Light sheltered the orphans from the outside world, so she was fortunate to have discovered her mindsync abilities. Alyssalee didnât even discover her mindfreed skills until she was fifteen. Learning to mindsync at fifteen was like learning to ride the bike or swim in old age. It was quicker with the young. At first, navigating by mindsync didnât feel natural to herâthe brain-body connection reigned all-powerfulâbut she tamed it into submission through practice. Alyssalee read that once mastered, mindsync could allow for faster-than-physical response times. How much faster depended on the quality of the materials and photonitry used by the paired devices. Removing the somatic nervous system from the equation accomplished this with a direct interface to the paired equipment.
Alyssalee threw the levboard into the charging rack in front of the holocade, skipping toward the entrance. Once inside, she made a beeline for her target. Alyssalee knew all the regulars here, but she only recognized Kit today. Kit was an expert at a handful of hologames covering the sports genre. His sweaty, shaggy hair whipped around as he jerked, jumped, and virtran. He grunted as Alyssalee took a position in front of her go-to hologame arena.
She looked down the line of the four feet wide by eight feet long hologame arenas, each with optical containment encompassing it. All but one of the Sword of Sanctity arenas were in use. The thrill of anticipation buzzed through her as she stepped into the arena. The player nearest her acknowledged her with a smile that didnât feel at all friendly. She didnât recognize him, but maybe they had teamed up or fought before despite the fact that there were tens of thousands in globalplay day and night.
She placed the arenaâs tiara-looking encephlotrak just over her brow. She ran a hand through her hair to ensure no interference from stray strands. Sword of Sanctity was one of the rare hologames that supported mindsync, with most people playing in physical mode.
While Sword of Sanctity was her favorite, she was still sore from completing yesterdayâs GravBall trials in physical mode. Physical games were a thrill, but she mainly used them to stay in shape. Kit was currently surpassing any workout that she had ever undertaken. Her eyes wide, she watched his navigation of holographic projections in a cross-country terrain simulation. Sweat dripped from the wild curls at the nape of his neck. He must be racking up some wins. She considered this as he advanced to the next round.
The terrain simulator glitched for a second and caused Kit to trip. One cluster of rods in the giant actuator-driven pin art must have gotten stuck. Alyssalee frowned. She didnât recall ever seeing Kit use a mindsync hologame. She wasnât sure if it was because he liked the full-body experience, was too cool to don the ET tiara, or just wasnât proficient at mindsync. It was rude to ask or insinuate that those who couldnât mindsync had a disability.
Returning her attention to the leaderboard in front of her, it showed Alyssalee, or ChikarNSpice, as number two globally. It was one of her very few accomplishments in life. It had taken months to inch her way to the top of the leaderboard. Sword of Sanctity used various measures to determine player ranking. Leveling algorithms were the differentiating attribute that drew players to the game. This was why it was the most popular hologame five years running.
The hologame was a mystery. Sword of Sanctity enthusiasts treated gameplay as if serving an unseen overlordâin this case, the gameâs maker, Knewarc. Few unlocked the intricacies of the parameters used to advance players. You couldnât just take enemy territory or kill a bunch of AIs to move up the leaderboard. One could play for weeks with consistent successes and never see their level nudge upward, in stark contrast to how other games measured playersâ achievements. Players comprised two factionsâtemplars and beasts, with an even split between the two. Alyssalee preferred being an orc in the beast faction, specializing in necromancy.
At the top of the board, KeeperOfLight held the number one position, as usual. Alyssalee wondered if there was a conspiracy. KeeperOfLightâs templar toon had been in the top spot for over two years. There was a lot of grumbling in the Sword of Sanctity community over this. A stone-cold mystery. No one Alyssalee knew had ever seen them in the fleshâmaking this person a bit of a hologame celebrity.
Fighting off templars using her dark necromancy was her gig. This and furthering the mission to protect the realms of the beast faction. And, of course, indiscriminately taking land from the templars was her J-O-B. Mindless AI mixed into the gameplay, to Alyssaleeâs annoyance. She had sent tens of thousands of NPCs to their demise over the last year. Their primary use was to provide inconvenient distractions. Alyssalee loved how the gameplay stayed fluid even with the few annoyances and conspiracies. She loved how the damage her faction caused to the environment persisted until repaired. She took pride in the scorched earth she left behind.
Her thoughts returned to her number two spot. Evidence from the SoS communities showed that players who helped others seemed to level faster than others. But this wasnât always the case. Samuel, aka BigFeet, who frequented the holocade, was one of the most helpful players Alyssalee knew. Samuel was always offering his time to guide new players and often stepped in to keep them alive during dire battles, at the cost of his own health. Alyssalee wasnât always so giving. Kill or be killed was her motto. Samuel didnât speak about his level, and Alyssalee had never seen him on the leaderboardânot even in the top one hundred.
Alyssalee conveyed her desire to log in to Sword of Sanctity, and the encephlotrak obliged the request. In ET-mode, picturing the game UI in the playerâs mind brought up the interface. The ET interpreted the neural signals and mapped them to actions. New players had to spend a couple of hours training the game on their unique neural signals. After hundreds of hours, the SoS UI knew Alyssalee well.
ChikarNSpice appeared at the previous map location she had last played in. WTF? she thought. There must have been an epic battle since sheâd logged out last night. A pile of templar AI was still smoldering around the damaged guard tower which she last defended. There were no player corpses around, as they didnât persist like the dead AI. The outpost lacked repairs, typical of ongoing battles, leaving the game world in a scorched, apocalyptic state. Crumpled wall fragments from the towerâs east side were strewn about as if obliterated by a devastating fireball. The damage must have resulted from a templarâs devoted prayer attack.
The encephlotrak conveyed the soft crackle of smoldering fires to her auditory cortex, flashing to show activity. In her mindâs eye, she turned to look over the shattered base camp. To her surprise, the templar faction had not planted a flag claiming this as their territory. She wondered if this battle had just concluded, but why werenât there any templars around, then? The silhouette of the arena was just visible in the contrast of the dark skies at the horizonânot a living creature stirred.
The smell of burning flesh was strongâtoo strong. Alyssalee made a mental note to turn down the olfactory sensitivity. Unfortunately, this could only be done in the gameâs settings while logged out. Olfactory sensory input provided one of the most immersive advantages over physical mode hologames, and she loved it. She especially enjoyed the blended scents of fresh bread and ale when hanging out in taverns with her friends. The gross smells werenât enjoyable but ratcheted up the immersion.
She yelled out in gravelly orc tones, âAnyone here?â
This was another feature Alyssalee enabled with mindsync. Her lady-orc vocals augmented her voice with harsh, evil-sounding tones. Physical-only mode did not have this feature.
âAlyssalee,â a deep voice called out.
She hastily reverted context to the holocade, adrenaline pumping. This wasnât a âHowâs it hanging?â kind of call out. This was more like a âYou fucked up, get your ass over hereâ tone. She looked around. Kit was still virtrunning at a pretty good clip and looked like he was dodging some obstacle. Everyone in the nearby arenas was engaged in their sport or craft.
Again: âAlyssalee.â
She brought her focus back into the game to the wasted guard tower where ChikarNSpice stood. She willed her encephlotrak to spin her toon around well beyond human agility. Shit, shit, shit.
KeeperOfLight sat on his golden dragon mount, not fifteen feet from where she stood.
