Modern net philosophers claim that human existence is fated to fluctuate between the pain of having too much work and not having any. A few years back, I considered that deep; now, I just find it annoying. In three hours, my shift was supposed to start and continue into the night. That would leave me part of the morning to complete the hundred-level quest, and that made me stress out. Now that the fear of unseen conspiracies had vanished, the panic of failure had sunk its teeth into me like an automatic mouse trap. Less than a day remained, and I hadn’t done any progress. FlickerFlacker had left without a word, and Claire had already given me all that he could. There was a chance that Firestarter had found something useful, but she was the type of person who’d kill the competition rather than share info. Besides, I probably didn’t have anything to offer her anyway.

The swirling icon on my phone told me that Twinkle was still searching for the information I had asked for. Knowing how pricy secured info was on the net, he had probably used all of my allocated budget. In theory, I could always ask Claire for another favor, but I wasn’t sure to what extent I could trust him, either.

Why eight clues? I thought back to the quest. Everything was done for a reason. If the clues were the guide, then the final one had to be in a fixed location in Vesperia. That much was clear. And still, why have eight clues if it was possible to find it with four?

A gust of wind swept through the back alley, sticking a discarded nylon scrap to my shoe. The thin cyan reminded me I had to order a new pack of rain protectors. According to the manufacturer, the “product” was capable of withstanding a week of rain. I didn’t believe it, but I didn’t have the resources to argue.

I bent down and took the took the scrap. It was the size of a tissue, severely worn out, though still smooth to touch.

“Can’t log in from a dead zone,” a voice said. I looked up. A boy in his teens was looking at me, red AR glasses on his face. “They’ve put in jammers.” He pointed at one of the buildings.

I looked up but didn’t see anything. It didn’t take a genius to know he was right. Gaming companies didn’t like players to spend time out of their game or access more than the bare minimum—messages, notifications, payment transfer statistics... By law, people were guaranteed the freedom to connect from wherever they chose. The game companies had a simple solution—data jammers. The devices wouldn’t disrupt any connections or block any signals; instead their data packets would piggy back on anything in the vicinity, increasing the datacap to the point at which the the game login attempt would time out. It was sneaky, elegant, borderline illegal, and sent augmented reality on the path of the dodo.

“Thanks.” I nodded. “I’m not jacking.”

It was obvious he was. The lack of additional head told me he wasn’t a gamer, most probably a transfer script kiddie. They were the modern day pickpockets: harmless, abundant, and largely annoying,

The teen remained motionless for several seconds, then shrugged. Knowing his kind, he was probably bored out of his skull, deciding to chat only because it was slightly more interesting than the alternative. I was almost certain he was back to whatever he was doing, which begged the question what I should do.

“All done, Sarah!” Twinkle’s voice echoed in my ears.

“Pause.” I glanced at the boy. Having the conversation with Twinkle here would pose a risk, but that would be far less than having it on the main street. At least here, I knew where the danger was. “Go on.”

“FlickerFlacker has done searches on seventeen topics from Vesperia in the last week,” Twinkle began. “Three of the searches were related to your stream account.”

That was hardly a surprise. Most of the players I met checked out my stream accounts. I had even set up a link in my official game info, like everyone else using biometric characterization data.

“Fifteen of the remaining topics were to biological sites,” my AI companion went on. “Specifically concerning birds, zebras, ants, sea manatees, vultures, pterodactyls, gene dragons—“

“I get the idea,” I cut him off. Flicker was researching animals, likely because they were linked to one of the hints. The Sylvan Forest had creatures, though none of them matched the searches. “What else?”

“Seventy-one hours ago, Flicker did a domain name search. The domain name was listed as available. Do you want to buy it? Two domain distributors offer a discount of eighty percent.”

“What’s the name?”

The phone vibrated in my hand.

“You have a high-priority message from Jeff,” Twinkle said cheerfully. “Do you want me to read it for you?”

I didn’t bother with an answer, scrolling to my inbox directly. It wasn’t unusual for Jeff to ask for a favor now and again—shift changes, going to work early, lending a hand during rush holidays. One time, he had spent a full night sending me messages until he wore me down and convinced me to go with him buy a pet from a secondhand clone center. I had spend two hours getting to the other side of town and bargaining with some lady that didn’t even bother showing a fake clone license. Today’s message was the first marked high-priority.

Quote:

Need your help. Meet me at our second corner.

Short, sweet, and very ominous. It wasn’t the sort of request any sane person would respond to. I, however, had thrown away my sanity several days ago. They said that the dark web was made of favors and deceit. The more I got involved in the quest, the more I seemed to get entangled.

“What are you playing?” I asked the boy.

“Nothing much,” he answered, with the typical new gen attitude.

“Is it any good?” I smirked. The boy shrugged. I took a protein bar from my pocket and tossed it to him. “Don’t forget to eat.”

It was an old meme, but I enjoyed using it when I was younger. Nowadays, I’d be surprised if anyone knew what it referred to. The teen apparently didn’t, not that it stopped him from unwrapping the bar. Putting the phone in my pocket, I headed towards the street.

“Save often,” the boy said behind me.

The “second corner” Jeff had mentioned was a specific place downtown. Back then, we had been sent—once our shift was over—to gather a fresh batch of filters for work. Our bosses were so cheap, they had the delivery made to the nearest location on the courier's list. That way they got a discount, and the courier saved some time. The practice was highly illegal, but massively used by smaller companies. The unofficial rule was that for every one “skip,” the client had to make two normal orders. At the time, the address we had been given was wrong, and Jeff and I had gone to a completely different location. Within minutes, the courier company, their driver, and our boss had freaked. I still remembered hearing the yelling that came from Jeff’s phone as he handled the conversation. Threats were exchanged, and for a moment, I'd believed we’d get fined and fired. Jeff, however, had patiently waited for the other participants to run out of oxygen, then had cleared his throat and said we’d be "waiting at the second corner”. Five minutes later, we had our supplies. Of course at the time, I didn’t know he had hacked the courier distribution system and modified the delivery route.

It took me half an hour rushing through the crowds to get there. The trip was entirely uneventful. Every now and then, I’d stare at a few billboard commercials passing by—the games barely merited any attention, though the latest phone models caught my interest. The more I went downtown, the more techno cultists there were, standing in front of high end stores, trying to ensnare anyone passing by.

“You have a message from FlickerFlacker!” Twinkle shouted in my ears along with a chorus of trumpets. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

“Crap!” I hissed, making several people give me a nasty glance as they rushed by.

Flicker’s timing was the worst! Half an hour ago, I would have been happy to get such a notification.

“Read.” I felt a cold pulsing pain in my stomach.

“Sure thing!” Twinkle cleared his throat. “Things changed. I can’t explain much, but there’s something you need to know. Go to the cliffs and send me a message.”

Of all the crappy luck! I felt like screaming. With two hours remaining till my shift, I had to run to home to log on in time. The next chance I’d get was in ten hours after my shift was over.

“Send him a reply!” I said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. FlickerFlacker is no longer in your contacts list,” Twinkle said in his sad voice. “He’s not visible on Vesperia’s player list either.”

A chill passed down my spine. Could the little brat have quit the game? He had asked me to meet him at the cliff, so he could have just dropped this account. With his amount of money, that would be easy.

I moved closer to the buildings and looked in the distance. Less than a block away, I could see the Cyberblue skyscraper. My meeting point with Jeff was less than a minute away. If I ran, I could probably make it in three-four. That would, in theory, give me enough time to rush back home and learn what the deal was. Would Jeff let me, though?

“Twinkle, phone Jeff,” I said, moving the phone to my ear.

“On it!” the AI cheered. A series of beeps followed.

Jeff or Flicker? If this situation had occurred in a game, I’d be spamming the message boards, raging at the poor design. Neither of the two options had provided any info that would help me make an appropriate decision. Both needed me for something urgent, and neither had bothered to offer a hint or even a window of opportunity for me to respond. No wonder so many people preferred to go virtual.

“Sarah?” Jeff’s voices sounded from the earpiece. “Where are you?”

“I’m almost there.” I elbowed my way forward as I spoke. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“It’s my sis.” I could hear the panic in his voice. “She got a bad protein batch or something. I need to rush her to hospital!”

Shit! Shit! Shit! I didn’t know anything about Jeff’s sister. Up to today, I barely knew she existed. Refusing to help her for the sake of a hint that might help me solve a game riddle wasn’t something I was capable of. When it came to it, I was no Firestarter.

“I just got to Blue,” I lied, running up the stairs of the overpass. “Where exactly you?”

“Sending you a marker.” I heard some shouts and noises in the background. “Call when you get here. Hurry!” Jeff ended the connection. I could tell this was more than a scare.

Ambulance sirens roared in the distance. I had no doubt who they were coming for, just as I had no doubt that Jeff had used his skills to get them here. It took a lot of money to get medical assistance at such speed, far more to have sirens be part of the package.

“You have a new message from FlickerFlacker,” Twinkle said.

“Not now, Twinkle!” I hissed, running as fast as the people would let me.

“The message is marked urgent with a guaranteed see priority,” he continued. “Ahem When will you get here?” Twinkle asked in Flicker’s voice.

“Send a reply that I’m going to the hospital!” As excuses went, that was the best, and also happened to be true. “Ask him to reschedule for tonight.”

“Reply sent!” Twinkle’s joyfulness was starting to get on my nerves. “Reply received. Do you want me—“

“Just read it!” I shouted.

“Ahem,” Twinkle’s voice sounded as if in slow motion. “I can’t wait. I’m sorry.”

My heart froze. I had just lost Flicker for good.