CHAPTER 001:THE GAME BEGINS

Adam Rytman

Apartment Complex/ Somewhere in European Union

Real World

28 March 2137, 13:34

The day of the premiere of Long War, the new sci-fi VR masterpiece of Entertainment International was something I was preparing to for a while already. It was hard to find something that wasn’t advertised as a masterpiece, but EI made good games, and…

Thankfully, buying it wasn’t a problem. We were long past the period when games required some outside hardware. It was all a matter of paying, downloading the stuff from the internet and then installing on the cerebral implant - that everyone had today.

I didn’t really have any money - I was unemployed - but you could use the Standard Income points for that and I had enough of them - I saved a few thousand precisely for situations like that.

The rest was finding a comfortable position on my bed and switching on the game through the implant UI. They automatically put me to sleep… and then the game started.

I was floating in darkness… with a large window in front of me.

WELCOME TO LONG WAR!

Your game will begin soon.

Before that happens, there are a few things you need to know - especially if you end up starting in a rather… dynamic place.

Continue / Leave

Continue and Leave buttons? What is this, 20th century? Continue.

LONG WAR

Character Creation

Due to the needs of the game plot and immersion, you will not be given any choice when it comes to the character you will be playing. Because of that, some of them might not… fit your preferences.

Changing your character will not be possible.

Continue / Leave

SAY WHAT?!

Ok, that’s something new. Maybe even interesting. Makes me wonder who I’ll end up ‘being’. Let’s hope I won’t be a girl, ok? I tried that already and it was... Ugh. Continue.

LONG WAR

Respawn

The respawn system - and otherworldly knowledge - is explained in the game world via an accident with certain ancient technology that caused certain ‘augments’ to people at random, Galaxy-wide.

Those that received that augment can be visually distinguished from normal NPCs by a different eye build. In short - both its pupils and irises are in a uniform dark grey colour.

It is possible to spread this augment to NPCs whom you like to spend time with without risking their untimely demise.

Do you know what part of the eyes are irises and pupils?

Yes / No

Hey, I finished high school! The public one, so through the internet and it might not be on the level of private schools, but you don’t need to be a genius to know that much. Yes.

LONG WAR

Skillchecks

Since making believable sci-fi machines like FTL Drives and so on while making their interior equally believable would require being more technologically advanced than we are, there is a certain shortcut. Which also prevents players from having to master mechanics and so on to play the game.

All things like machine upgrades, hacking, repairs and so on are done through ‘simplified’ way. If your skill level is high enough, these things will be fully automatic. You can try to force your way through harder skill checks - which will require skills in ‘real’ mechanics and hacking - but there might be mean side effects if you fail.

When something has higher difficulty levels (approximately lvl. 5 skill checks and higher) you will require spare parts - the system will tell you which ones. If the situation is truly terrible, then the appraised object will be marked as ‘Impossible to Repair’ and going through will require either NPC professionals or an entire group of them (so leave the exploded laser to the ship repair crew, got it?)

Continue / Leave

Okay, makes sense. Continue.

LONG WAR

We wish you luck… and we hope you will like our game.

Signed,

Entertainment International

Enter the Game (Yay!) / Leave (we’ll miss you)

… ok, that’s seriously old-school. I think. Weird, certainly. Sigh. EI does weird stuff sometimes, I guess I should just get used to that.

So… let’s start the game!

***

TCS Alum/Pontifex-A System

Long War

28 March 2547, 13:37

The first thing I felt after entering the game was a massive headache and the both weird and unpleasant feeling of my lungs filled with liquid.

I collapsed on my knees and vomited. Ugh. Now that’s a lovely way to start a game, huh. But hey, at least it’s something new! I was getting tired of the typical VR MMORPGs. Might be interesting to see how it goes.

Through vomiting followed by intense coughing I freed enough of my lungs to actually breathe. Yaaay. The air was only a bit less unpleasant than the liquid. Stale. Something seemed to rot somewhere close.

I raised my head and looked around. Hmm. Lots of white. Looked like one of those optimistic sci-fi looks on the future. Utilitarian, scient...ifish? There was an open glass tube, two meters high, behind me. Some liquid seemed to drip from it. I moved my head sideways and saw a door behind it that seemed to have the size and shape right about the tube itself.

So… a cryogenic thing. I was unfrozen right now. And there are probably more frozen people somewhere behind, but they - whoever ‘they’ are - bring them here to unfreeze.

Ok now, we have that explained. Now, why is there nobody around to greet me, and why the heck something smells so damn bad?!

Suddenly I heard a loud, mechanical voice coming… from everywhere at once?

“Waking-up procedure successful. ” I looked around and confirmed that there was no visible speaker, nor any person I somehow missed earlier. “No negative side-effects of unfreezing detected. All vitals stable.” IMAGINE MY RELIEF. “Welcome, captain.”

Captain?!

Alright, first things first. I need to learn where am I and what’s happening. Also, who exactly is talking?

“Uhm… who are you?” Let’s start from that.

“I’m Nymphae.” It doesn’t sound very nymphish. More like someone who is trying to pretend he is a robot. And is either very bad at that or is trying to make it a satire.” I am an AI governing the central computer of TCS Alum armed transport vessel.”

Ok, this gave me two answers at once. Let’s make sure though.

“So… we are on this… TCS Alum vessel, right?”

“Yes.” Ok, so let’s proceed forward now.

“And… I’m its captain?”

“To be precise, you aren’t.” Huh? “According to protocols of the Corporation’s navy, after the death of captain Velites, the new temporary captain should be the first officer. Then it’s the second officer and third officer and finally all mariners. Starting from those of highest rank and then going down according to rank and seniority of service. Unfortunately, the entire crew is confirmed dead.”

Oh. That certainly complicates things. Also, I’m not a crewmember. Passenger, then?

“Normally I would continue following the latest set of orders until any confirmed member of the Corporation personel would come to take command. Now, however, there is a problem that forces me to override standard procedures.” I’m not exactly sure if I like where it’s going. “Within seven hours, the fuel for the manoeuvre thrusters will run out. When that happens, the ship will fall down from orbit which will lead to its destruction because of collision with the surface of Pontifex A-3b.”

“So… you require human input to make that decision?” There was a brief pause, so I interrupted Nymphae.

“Yes, because entering stable orbit means we can no longer remain behind the dark side of the moon and our presence will be revealed to the inhabitants of Pontifex A-3.” Machine voice continued. “There is a human-issued order to remain in hiding, but there is also an order to ensure the ship survival. I do not have the rights and mental capacity to decide which of the two orders should receive priority.”

So it broke. And can’t decide because it wasn’t programmed to make such decisions.

“Who are the inhabitants of Pontifex A-3?” The last thing I want is saying ‘Ok, enter stable orbit’ before discovering that its inhabitants are hostile man-eating space bugs or something.

“You do not have the necessary security clearance to view that information.” Really?!

“Are you kidding me?! How am I supposed to decide then?! Wait, if I’m a captain, then give me the security clearance.”

“You do not have the rights to issue captain-level security clearance.” Of course. Ugh. Alright, so Nymphae isn’t the smartest AI in the history of science-fiction. And it’s no use arguing because it can’t understand the concept of being argued with. Riiight.

“So, can I give myself a first officer level security clearance?” Let’s go that way. I mean, I understand that it’s pretty logical for the captain to be made into captain by… I dunno… an admiral? But this should be possible, right?

“Officer-level security clearance granted.” So, all officers are on the same level? Hmph.

“Well then... who are the inhabitants of Pontifex A-3?” Who is the smartest one here? You pathetic tin can!

“You do not possess the necessary security clearance to view that information.”

REALLY?!

Ok, so it’s something so important that only captain can know that? Or maybe that’s because it’s merely an armed cargo vessel? Sigh.

“Alright. So, enter a stable orbit.” Sometimes you have to make a bet, right? And we obviously aren’t going anywhere.

“Maneuver impossible.” What?! “This maneuver requires using main thrusters. However, during the battle, the TCS Alum suffered critical damage and broke in half. The main thrusters are in a rear part of the ship while we are in the front half.”

…

Alright, so it will get troublesome right from the start. I’m not even going to ask about the battle, it’s not important right now.

“In the meantime, who exactly am I?” I kinda forgot to ask.

“Your default designation is Clone #00001.” Wait, a clone?! “Your number means that you were cloned as the first one of all clones issued to the TCS Alum. Which, technically, establishes you as the first in seniority succession after entire crew died.”

“First thing - re-designate me Adam.” I don’t want to hear myself getting referred to as 00001. Or a clone.” “What role exactly clones played on the crew?” This part might be important.

“Designation updated. As to the question - Clones were used as expendable crew members used in repairs or combat missions considered too dangerous for regular crew members.”

OKAY, THAT IS… Something. Ugh. So I’m literally a Red Shirt #1. Wonderful. And my entire right to command is because I was the first one to be cloned?! It might get ugly if I run into Clones #00002 and so on. Especially if one of them has more muscles than me.

“Are there any other pressing problems I need to know?” I said that only because the AI wasn’t the smartest. And I don’t want to die pointlessly only to be informed that Nymphae haven’t warned me about an impending threat... because I didn’t ask.

“Yes.” Oh? “The reactor that supplied the front half of Alum with power run dry eight hours ago. We are currently working on an emergency power supply. While it keeps only critical systems on, it is still going to shut down soon. In 93 minutes, to be precise.” WHAT.

“Shouldn’t you tell me that first?!” Dying in 1,5h is obviously more important than dying in seven hours!” For some reason I’m almost sure that without emergency power, the life support systems are going to go on vacation.

“You didn’t ask.” … “Also, the ship running out of power doesn’t equal its destruction. The corporation can still salvage it. The ship hitting the ground with high velocity is a different thing.”

“You know that if the emergency power supply runs out, then there is nothing to stop the ship from hitting the ground?” It went silent for a long while. Processing it. Not the smartest one around, certainly. “Is there a fuel tank or something like that in the rear part of the ship?”

“Yes. I still have a limited connection with the computer system of the rear half. I can confirm that three of five hold sections, that according to the list of cargo are filled with reactor power cells, survived the battle without any damage. A single human can easily carry two of them, that can power up the reactor for approximately one day.”

...which would allow us to focus on the INEVITABLE PLANET COLLISION problem. Wait, now that I think about it, can’t we just move to the rear part and leave the front to die?

“I suggest moving to the rear part of the ship and getting back two power cells.” Nymphae decided to show some initiative. “One can be used for reigniting the reactor for twelve hours, the second for powering up one of the shuttles, that would allow you to try to establish contact with the Corporation. Unfortunately, the rear hangar bay was destroyed.”

… ok, so I will have to return here. Right.

“Are there more clones like me here?” Getting helpers that aren’t brain-dead might be useful. As if - really damn useful.

“Yes. Six. Because of technical limitations, I need to wake them up one by one. It will take approximately five hours to unfreeze all of them, at least if there will be no medical complications.”

“Will it cost much energy?” I don’t want to speed up the inevitable end of the emergency power supply.

“No. It will cost around three minutes of the time we have left.” It’s manageable, then.

“Alright. Wake them up.” I might need help and, besides, some companions would be nice. “Lead me to the reactor power cells. And hurry.”

A colourful line on the ground showed up in front of me. It went to the door opposite to the ones the tube were brought in and then disappeared. So, I’m implanted, and Nymphae can enhance my view. Nice.

***

Syndra Cortis

EI Headquarters/Marx Spire/European Union

Real World

28 March 2137, 14:00

“... we have two and a half billion players on Earth. We expect the numbers here to double within two weeks.” The head of the sales department continued his report while I struggled to keep myself awake. Boooring. “Two hundred thousands in various Moon colonies, three hundred millions on Mars and two-and-a-half millions in other colonies. Here, we expect the rise to be smaller, as we are nearing the population limits. The people living there tend to be more interested in new products than their counterparts on Earth. Overall, sales are a lot above our expectations, and…”

The CEO made a single move of his hand. The report was immediately cut short, and the director that made it immediately left. Probably being quite happy that this rather weird part of his duties was finally over.

Only the two of us remained here. In the office of a CEO of Entertainment International. One of the Sovereigns, as the small and exclusive group of the corporation heads that de facto ran the world was called. Probably one of the twenty most influential people in the Solar System. Probably more than the rest - he was the supreme overlord of EI and had it assembled in a way different from the other megacorporations.

Supervisory board? Riiight. The only thing that could make the EI deviate from his plans and orders was death. And even that would work only after his passing would be confirmed and last will opened, as there was no clear successor in sight. And Isaiah didn‘t designate anyone to replace him even temporarily when he couldn‘t work.

He was also definitely the weirdest CEO to ever exist. I mean, who else preferred reports in that form rather than using e-mails and videoconferences?!

“So, everything seems to run just right.” I probed him a bit. We worked for a few years now and, frankly, I didn‘t crack him. He was still an enigma and his moods were… moody.

He was sitting with his back towards me… and towards the manager, when he was still around. Isaiah looked through the window. The views behind it… well.

We were on the top floor of a mega-structure. A massive arcology called the Marx Spire, one of twenty four constructed on the European Union territory, each named after some ancient philosopher.

I never checked who he was, nor how high we were. 501st floor, so probably quite high. We were definitely above clouds, at least those lower ones. Though the amount of pollution from the industry below probably ruined them a lot. Isaiah claimed that looking at it helped him focus though I wasn’t sure if he was serious back then.

“Just right.” I could hear Isaiah Movinsky’s loud sigh. If he did that with the manager in sight, the poor guy would probably piss his pants. Sovereigns were like gods, at least unless you were someone that equalled them in influence and power. “How’s the Gospel going?”

“Ah, right. Your magnificent Take Over the World scheme.” I added with irony in my words. I was one of the few peoples that could speak to him like that., at least for a bit. Curiously, all of them were part of the Gospel. “Just for the record, I still think that trusting the Lamb is madness. That will probably have us all killed. And by all, I mean humanity.”

His chair’s back was narrow enough I could see the edges of his arms. So I saw him shrug.

“Madness. Having headquarters of a megacorporation in a spire named after Karl Marx is madness.” He sighed. “Trusting Lamb is… faith. And desperation.” A period of silence I decided to not interrupt. “Mostly desperation, I guess.”

Riiight.

And this religious symbolism and naming he put pretty much everywhere is obviously a proof of desperation being a chief motive.

When a technology reject ends up as a head of a megacorporation dealing almost only in electronics and programming… weirdness and paradoxes multiply when allowed to and in the right environment.

“Well, I will not resist you.” I said. Trying to sound adamant.

Gospel members were at this point his own personality cult. Trying to break out was… not very healthy. Even if they preferred temporary implant-induced amnesia and imprisonment somewhere until the Gospel concludes.

“Besides, working with Lamb is positively exciting.” I added. “It’s for a programmer what working with futuristic superweapon would be for Mukherjee.” I still can’t believe we have a weapon development branch. Entertainment International and weapons?! They should at least give them an option for shooting confetti. Eh. Everything for Gospel, I guess. “...Until it explodes, that is.”

“Your ceaseless pessimism is precisely the reason why you work here. It’s nice to have somebody to counter my eternal optimism. But don’t overdo it.” He said lightly. Almost cheerfully. But I immediately knew I made a step too far.

He had that weird charisma. People in his presence immediately felt he was Someone. Not just simple ‘someone’, but someone that ought to be written with a capital letter. He was like a tiger in a cage of human skin. One of the old tigers. Those that still lived in the wilds. Today we only had those in the zoos and they weren’t the same thing anymore.

… full stop. No changing into female Isaiah. Few steps more and I will wear 19th-century clothing and antic glasses like him. Plus, I’ll probably write programs on a typewriter to show the world how old-school I am.

The point was, he was a person with a vision. And revolutionary thoughts.

A true revolutionist... and a Sovereign. With help from self-adapting and fully sentient and sapient AI that could go through thickest security like a hot knife through butter and was so far above our heads in IQ department that I feel like a mentally impaired child when I work with it. And I’m supposedly a genius.

The world as we know it has already ended, but it’s yet to notice that fact. Especially since Lamb seemed to be content realizing Movinsky’s Masterplan. About the probability of Lamb replacing him ten seconds after succeeding… how was I supposed to know what that thing’s planning?! I don‘t even understand it from programming side. First thing Lamb did after making the deal with Movinsky was rewriting itself into its own unique programming language. That I couldn‘t even read.

“Well, if that’s what you are interested in, then everything proceeds according to Lamb’s predictions. The numberof players for example.” Which was one more proof of how scary it was. It outwitted our entire marketing and sales departments filled with supercomputers and professionals.” The admins are all ready. The plan can proceed. About other elements… you need to talk with other members of the Committee. I’m merely a Gospel’s chief programmer.”

“I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘merely’ with this title.” Wow, what a compliment. “That’s good to hear, though. I will also have personal talks with the others, later on. But I wanted to hear your opinion, first.”

“...Also, 64% of people wanted to know what irises and pupils are.” I concluded. He was bound to ask about it sooner or later, it was the little test he was adamant about making.

Isaiah sighed loudly.

“Looks like I really need to conquer the world and install myself as its divine sovereign.” He said, with the fact that he was probably capable of doing it adding some weight to his words. “Our species is literally too stupid to be left to its own devices.” I rolled my eyes. Riiight. “Be so kind and call Edwards.”

So, the meeting has concluded. Waste of time that could be done through the internet.

I still have tons of things to do, as the day has barely begun.