Chapter 22: Turning a Blind Eye

Before long, Ricky was once again using his long-handled cutting tool back in Area 75. What was below the trapdoor? He tried to remember the scene that had met his eyes in the fraction of a second before he left the Framework, but in truth he didn’t know. He didn’t even remember landing on whatever surface lay beneath.

The only thing he was sure of was that it had been dark.

It was possible that he had fallen to his death, he realized, and perhaps that was not a disaster. He would return to his starting village of Barrowdale, and could from there make his way back to Imperialis. More problematic would be getting his gear back – particularly the orb. He didn’t even know where he had been. His mouth went dry at the thought of explaining his actions to Xarok and Gabriella. It was possible that losing the orb in the basement of an unknown ruin would make matters very much worse for the Tooth and Claw Guild, particularly as more and more enemies closed in on the safe house.

Out in the camp, it was a very hot and humid day – even more so than usual, and so much so that it was difficult to breath when he first stepped outside. Looking around, it felt quieter to Ricky, though the same refugee workers were hard at it in his own area. He supposed that if there was ever a shortage of workers, they would quickly be replenished by the endless line of refugees seeking shelter.

One of the nearby workers had orange overalls in contrast to his own red ones, and as he struck again and again at the stubborn half-submerged tree root, he pondered over the significance of these. They appeared to represent the length of time in the camp – all the new arrivals from his own cohort had been given red ones. They also appeared to follow the light spectrum – red at one and, then orange, yellow, and so on. Was this the order of experience? Julie’s blue uniform combined with her having said that she had been there ‘a long time’ perhaps suggested that it was.

Not that Ricky was bothered about advancing on to the orange color any time soon. This was only his second day of labor, though it felt a lot more. No. But he was concerned about cooling off, drying off, and about getting access to one of these pods that allowed him to enter the Framework and work towards winning the game all day and all night.

Would they really, though? Surely Julie couldn’t have been toying with him, dangling this prospect as a carrot in order to get something fixed – some vague mechanical project of her own devising.

It was certainly possible. But on the other hand, it did seem strange that the New Baravia work camp, in every other way so strictly run and authoritarian, even allowed that option. That it was even possible. Did they know about it? And if not, how could such elicit activity be going on without their knowing?

Ricky didn’t get a chance to ask any of these questions that morning, and nor did he speak to anyone, or even step away from the work.

He had also seen what happened if someone stepped away from the work, or took an unscheduled break, however much it was warranted. Earlier that day, a fellow red-clad worker – though not one that Ricky recognized from his own arrival – had thrown her tool to the ground with a sigh. She had then sunk down groaning, while shaking her head more in confusion, it seemed to Ricky, than in protest.

In moments, the nearest guard had left his station and was stalking over to her.

“Back to work,” he called out, pulling a baton from his hip. At least the gun had remained slung across his back, Ricky recalled thinking.

“I can’t,” the woman had said miserably. “I want to work, but it’s too much, and too hot.”

There had been no further conversation – just a short, vigorous beating, followed by the unconscious woman being dragged away and out of sight by four guards, while the other workers pretended not to notice what was going on.

Would the woman be back? Did the refugee camp even have a hospital wing, or something of that nature? And if not, what happened to those who got injured or ill?

Looking around at the near endless swamps, Ricky shook his head. It didn’t really bear thinking about.

However, he had also discovered that the nearest guard would turn a blind eye under certain circumstances. The only possible way to grab even a couple of minutes of respite, he had realised, was to stand still and take the weight of the pole-tool off his arms by resting it on the ground and against his shoulder, his hands still clasping the shaft, and this is what he now did, a few hours into the morning.

He only stood still for a minute or so. After the brutality that he had witnessed earlier, he knew that he couldn’t push it. But on the other hand, the muscles needed at least a tiny bit of respite from time to time, even if he was still standing knee-deep in swamp sludge as he took it.

They were only human.

He resumed his work after his own covert break, still too hot, still sweating profusely, and glanced once up towards the guards as he worked.

Turning a blind eye... perhaps that was it. Perhaps that explained why the guards did nothing to stop certain players from remaining in the gaming pods by day. It may not be allowed, but keeping it covert could make the difference. The city of New Baravia must need new citizens occasionally, after all. And if the fairness of the process had been undermined, well... why should the guards lose any sleep over it?

As Ricky worked on, he scanned the area around. There was still no sign of Julie – or of the guard who played Xarok in the Dark Framework. He very much wanted to speak to the man, given that he probably had more of an idea than Ricky did of where the gateway had taken him, and how to get back to Imperialis.

But by the time evening fell in the camp and the siren sounded, he had still not seen either of them. Arms aching, and his head hurting from poor sleep and the stress of their situation, Ricky turned to pick up the container where he had been depositing the cut lumps of half-rotten wood all day long. It was notable to him – and no doubt to others, too – that his was much fuller than those of his fellow refugees. As he tipped it into the main container, he briefly made eye-contact with the murderous duty guard, and then bowed his head as he began to head back along the narrow path that led back to the building.

As he went, he didn’t want to attract attention – perhaps he needed to go a little slower the next day.

Still alone, Ricky hesitated when he turned into the wider path that joined the rail line with his own accommodation, once again looking around, though he had hardly stopped when several other workers barged into him from behind, cursing. He walked on. There was no time for looking around, that much was clear.

All the same, Ricky walked as slowly as he could as he approached the sliding double doors for the evening. Much though he was looking forward to food, a lie down and a return to the Dark Framework, it would be very disappointing to say the least if he had to go in without making any further arrangements with Julie.

But as he was just a yard from the door, another refugee tugged his sleeve, and he looked around to find that he was staring into the face of a man with bushy blond hair and a beard, dressed in green camp overalls.

Overalls which were dry.

“This way,” the man grunted, and then turned and hurried off down the side of Ricky’s building without another word.

It took another ten minutes for Ricky to follow the green-clad man to his destination, and all the while, the surroundings emptied as refugees alike made their way into the buildings for their evening repast.

This made Ricky increasingly nervous as they continued. It helped, however, that the guards were – for the most part – going inside too. The evening had also become quite dark, and the other man appeared to be well-practiced at both sticking to the shadows and keeping to quieter areas, well aware from some of the sporadic guard towers that dotted the entire camp.

Soon they had arrived at one of the older types of building – large and concrete, curved on top, like a huge cylinder that had been sliced in two and set down, flat side downwards. Unlike Ricky’s building, it didn’t have modern doors, but rather a pair of iron doors with keyholes. The man who had led him this far fished a key on a cord out from inside his clothing and unlocked one of the doors.

Ricky then followed the man inside. It occurred to him that he hadn’t even confirmed who the man was, or that he was working for Julie.

The building looked different from his own on the inside, too. Instead of the pale surfaces and ambient light, this place was dark and dank. The only lighting consisted of old electrical strips, reminding him of some of the basement homes back in Europe. His childhood. There were also pods visible, again on one of the side walls, but their doors were very different – each one having a kind of wheel on the front of it, which reminded Ricky of the fixtures on a ship. Their fronts were bronze-colored, though rather corroded, with a triangular pattern that looked familiar.

Looking around, too, something else was noticeable in the area around them – the lack of guards. The refugees that he could see were all in the distance, sitting at some long tables, but there weren’t nearly as many as he was used to seeing.

“This way,” said the man. “You should eat before you go in.”

This was good news to Ricky, and he nodded, then looked sideways at the man. “Are you going in too?”

“Of course. There are keys to be won.”

“And you work with Julie?”

“Uh huh.”

The man was striding quickly towards the gathering at the long tables, and Ricky had to hurry to keep up, noticing how damp and sore his legs felt. All the same, his curiosity was powerful. “So, who do you play? Your character, in Portalis, I mean.”

The man now slowed slightly, peering at Ricky. “That was one of the things I’m meant to tell you. My name is Jeremy, but inside I play a warrior by the name of Zurx. A real tough guy, if I do say so myself. When you see me, you’ll know me by the long two-handed sword I use. A beautiful weapon of ebony stone.” The man smiled just a fraction.

“That sounds useful. And Julie?”

“You’ll meet her soon too, all being well. Her avatar is a demonkind sorceress. I guess I am kind of her right-hand man. But I am a badass, in all honesty.”

Ricky nodded. This guy really loved his in-game avatar – that much was obvious. And it wasn’t hard to understand why people preferred life in the Framework to their time in the camp. To their real life.

They stopped by the table. Around half of the others present were wearing camp-issued overalls of various colors, though most were dry like Jeremy’s. The others were wearing ordinary clothes, not so different from what Ricky had worn on the road, but clean.

The table had two large tureens with some kind of stew in one, and what looked like poached fish in the other. It was much more elaborate than anything he had yet been fed as a refugee, or found on the road in recent weeks.

“Everyone,” announced Jeremy, “this is the mechanic that Julie told you about.”

There were a few mumbled ‘hellos’, most people speaking with their mouths full. It occurred to Ricky that as the others didn’t appear to be working, they didn’t have to eat at the same time as the other refugees.

But then, they didn’t need to be out of their pods at all, he reflected. He supposed that there must be many more who were currently gaming. Or perhaps they gathered in the real world only on certain occasions.

“Sit,” said a nearby woman.

“Thanks,” said Ricky, sitting and looking around. His new neighbor was very pretty, with very dark skin and merry amber eyes. “I’m Lana,” she said. “Have some food. It’s nice to eat I-R-L from time to time.”

Ricky nodded, helping himself. He couldn’t agree more.

“So where are you – in the Framework, I mean?” asked Jeremy, moving around at sitting opposite.

“Well, that’s the thing,” said Ricky, wondering how best to explain his predicament. “Uh... morning came before I’d entirely got somewhere safe.”

“Ah,” said Lana from beside him. “A rookie error if every I’ve heard one.”

“Don’t worry man,” said Jeremy. “I’m sure the Guide told you that you can return to your starting room. Where did you start, anyway?”

“Uh, Barrowdale?” said Ricky uncertainly. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never quite established where everyone else started the game. The building in Barrowdale and the town as a whole had appeared to be set up for beginning players, with various simple quests to follow. But did everyone start there?

But Ricky’s question was answered when Lana turned to him with a gasp. “Hey, me too! Wow – it’s ages since I met someone who started there.”

“Oh, I see. That’s cool. I mean, I wasn’t sure where everyone else started the game.”

Jeremy leaned forward. “There are around a hundred small towns and villages that were designed for starter players. You can end up in any one of them.”

“Right,” said Ricky. “I guess it makes sense that we wouldn’t all come from the same home town. So, are the others close to Imperialis, too?”

“No,” said Lana, putting a hand on Ricky’s arm. “We’re one of the closest! But Imperialis is not the only major city. Have you actually been there yet?”

Ricky nodded. “I got there on my first day, spent my night... around there.” He suddenly realised that he should probably establish how the others felt about the Tooth and Claw Guild before he went into too many more details about his movements.

After all – he was about to be enclosed in one of their pods.

Looking round, he added, “So tell me, how do these pods work? And what is stopping the guards from forcing all of us to work in the swamps with the others?”

Jeremy pointed along the table. “See those two guys at the end? Guards. They and three others are assigned to this building. But guess what – they’d much rather play the Dark Framework than do their actual work.”

“I guess not all guards are psychopaths,” murmured Ricky, thinking again about Xarok. Clearly, his companion was assigned to his own building, and not to this one. He didn’t even know Xarok’s name outside of the Framework. But perhaps, in time, it might be possible to sort out a similar arrangement there.

“Wait,” he added, suddenly thinking of something. “Won’t they notice that I haven’t showed up in my usual place? Come looking for me or something.” He looked at both Lana and Jeremy.

Lana shrugged, and then shook her head, a look of suppressed anger on her face. “Unfortunately, Ricky, this place is not what it should be. It should allow vulnerable people to work for the right to become citizens – to show that they are worthy and willing to contribute to New Baravia. The reality is that it is nothing more than slave labor, and people disappear all the time. Nobody in the camp has a chance of working their way past the city walls, and if people go missing, then...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Remembering the unfortunate young woman who he had seen beaten by the guards earlier that day, Ricky immediately understood – she didn’t have to elaborate. People went missing, clearly – and nobody asked any questions.

As Lana fell silent, Ricky looked over at the pods, looking at the arrangement. The wall of doors was similar to what he had seen before, but these ones were all fairly low to the ground, and he got the impression that this was an older building.

“Time to go,” said a voice from behind, and Ricky turned around to see Julie, leaning forward and putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on Lana’s. “Finish your food, and then let’s get you masked up.”

Ricky stood, pondering the predicament that he had left his avatar in, back in the desert area of the Framework. “I don’t know exactly how to get to you...” he began.

“You know Imperialis, right?”

He nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Come and find us. I will be at Roker Bridge. My character is a demonkind, a powerful sorceress. You can call me Amora-Khush on the inside. Exciting times lie ahead, Ricky! A war is starting, and we are building an army. And we need a mechanic on the team.”

And as Ricky moved over to one of the corroded-looking metal doors, he recalled what Gabriella had told him about an army.

One that was attacking Imperialis, and seeking to destroy the Tooth and Claw Guild.

But what choice did he have now?

“This army,” he said, hesitating by the doors. Julie had come over with him, as had Jeremy. “Do they have war machines of some kind? Is that why you need a mechanic?”

Jeremy nodded. “That’s right, genius! We have cannons, ballistae, siege towers, that kind of thing. I hope you’re up to the task. Come find us as quickly as you can. Remember, I am Zurx, a warrior, and she is Amora-Khush.”

Ricky nodded, wondering whether – when the time came – he would find himself helping the siege engines to work, or sabotaging them.

Either way, he was here now. And the option of 24-7 immersion in the Dark Framework was simply too good to pass up...