THIRTEEN: CHARACTER II

Lars coughed and spat out a jet of water, turned over onto his side and gave three wretched heaves, then a torrent of algae laden muck rushed out and spattered against the wood beneath him. He gasped, savored the breath like it was his first taste of the world fresh out of the womb, and laid back down with a thud. He pawed at the collar of his shirt in a futile attempt to open his airway even more and gave up when he didn’t find one.

He took half a dozen ragged breaths, then let out a sigh of relief. “Holy shit. I’m sure glad Bueller showed up. That was awful.”

“Well,” came a booming voice from off to his left. “There’s a reason people aren’t lining up to swim in horse troughs.”

“Horse troughs?” Lars clamped his hands down over his ears and sprang to his feet. “Ow! What the…”

Before him stood the scariest thing he had seen in his life, thus far. An ogre. An actual god damn ogre in the flesh, like the picture on Finn’s tablet. But this was no regular ogre. No, it was a giant ogre, easily five or six times Lars' height. And the horrific canvas of skin and teeth it called a face was no less than a foot in front of him.

The monster raised a hand and waved. “Hey there, little fella!”

“Hey yourself!” Lars started to back away, but his foot caught the edge of the trough, so he settled for a dry gulp. “And could you lower your voice a bit… big fella. It’s killing my ears.”

It smiled. “No problem. And careful around the edge of the pool there, guy. Sure, I’ll take a handful of free experience from saving an NPC any day, not to mention the positive alignment points, but you didn’t do so well last time you tried to swim.”

Lars huffed. “I didn’t try to swim! I was running from—”

“Biscuit?” The ogre yanked up the murine terror that had nearly made a meal out of Lars. The sight of the beast caused a primal panic to well inside him and—without even thinking—he let out a blood-curdling scream and jumped back into the water.

But this time, he didn't go to the bottom.

A thick, clawed hand wrapped around his chest and yanked him out of the murk before setting him down gently on the edge of the trough. Lars spat out another lung full of ooze, then sat still as the gigantic figure in front of him picked strands of what felt like snot off him.

He blinked. “You done?”

“Just about… and… algae free!” The ogre smiled, then held up the colossal guinea pig by the scruff of its neck. “And don’t be afraid of little old Biscuit here. She’s the sweetest wittle wodent you ever did see. Isn’t that wight, Biscuit? You special wittle pwrincess...”

Lars nearly gagged as he watched the giant snuggle yellowed tusks against the mangy rodent while it whispered sweet nothings using the most disturbing baby voice Lars had ever had the displeasure to hear. For a minute, he considered pulling another Cameron and taking his chances with a respawn, but something about how the last dip had felt told him it might not play out how he wanted.

Instead, he did the thing that most third wheels do during a make-out session.

He averted his eyes.

A horse cart coming up a road off in the distance worked wonders for exactly eighteen seconds, until the ogre dropped to a knee and gave the giant guinea pig a big squeeze, effectively blocking Lars’ view.

It was only then that he noticed something even more out of place than any of the multitude of odd things he had seen since re-existing. The ogre was wearing a t-shirt. And not just any shirt. He was wearing a red t-shirt that said MIT Robotics Club.

He gasped. “Finn?”

The giant dropped the rodent. “Lars? Is that you? I thought were an—”

“NPC. Yeah, I heard you.” He swallowed. “And you’re a giant!”

Finn laughed. “I’m not a giant!”

“Yes, you are, kid.”

He laughed again. “No, I'm not. Old man!”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” Finn placed his hands on his hips. “You’re tiny.”

“How do you explain thr giant guinea pig, then? They must hand out gigantism like its Halloween candy in Dungeon.”

“Guinea pig?” Finn frowned. “Oh, you mean Biscuit! She’s not a guinea pig! Though she is a rodent, like a guinea pig. She’s a capybara, which is like the largest rodent on the planet. And she’s genetically related to a guinea pig, so I can see how you’d get confused.”

“Bullshit! She’s a mutated guinea pig, then! She tried to eat me!”

“No, she didn’t! She’s an herbivore, Lars!”

Lars raised a finger. “Then why does she have all gore around her face?”

“It’s flipping berry juice, dude!” Finn wiped the red from around Biscuit's mouth with a claw, then flicked it towards Lars. “Flipping berry juice! You had it all over your legs before you jumped in that horse trough!”

“She chased me!”

“Yeah, because you’re tiny and covered in berry juice! You probably looked like a popsicle to her!”

“I’m not tiny! For fuck’s sake, kid!”

“You are tiny, Lars. I’m not exactly sure how you got so tiny and how you came to look like that… but you are tiny.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere.” Lars crossed his arms. “Let’s just agree to disagree for now. I have, like, a whole ass load of questions that are way more important than you being in denial about being a giant.”

“Fine. I’ll entertain your delusions for a minute. Let me just get comfortable with this perfectly normal sized capybara, first.” Finn grabbed Biscuit and sat cross-legged on the ground while he ran his hands through her fur. “I’m all ears, Lars. What are your questions?”

“I’m just so confused, kid! Something doesn’t feel right, you know?”

Finn looked down at his green arms, then nodded in Lars’ direction. “I have noticed a couple of… loading errors… I guess you could say. What else?”

“Let’s start with the most important one first.” He drew in a breath, held it, then let it out. “Did you bring my snacks?”

“I know I said I was going to answer your questions, but I will not dignify that one with a comment.” He waited for Lars to continue, and when he didn’t, added, “I hate that I have to explain this to you. You can’t bring stuff in here because we’re playing a video game. It’s just a program. It’s not real. You can’t eat here, Lars.”

Lars pointed at the pile of green goo. “Then how do you explain how I know what that tastes like?”

The kid shrugged. “Your mind fills in the blanks sometimes. Sensory memory can be powerful, you know?”

“Sure.” Lars admitted. He knew the kid was right, to an extent. He could still taste the ghostly essence of the cigarette ash someone had once forced him to lick as a kid whenever he thought about it. But this was different from that. More corporeal. To drive his point home, he jumped to his feet, then winced as a torrent of pain tore across his chest. Somehow, in all the weird chaos, he had completely forgotten about the guinea pig digging her claws into his chest when she tried to turn him into a Happy Meal. “I—ow! That hurts! Shit!”

“You okay?”

"Fine." Lars waved away the concern. “Kid, I’d totally buy that sensory memory explanation if it weren’t for one thing.”

Finn rubbed the rodent behind the ears. “Which is?”

Lars pointed a finger. “How do you explain how that t-shirt got here?”

“Hmm. Now that is extremely peculiar. That shouldn’t be here. You said you could taste the water? Like, actually taste the water?”

“Uh, yeah. That is what I said. But I wouldn’t recommend it, kid. Tastes like pond muck.”

“And how do you know what pond muck tastes like?”

Lars clenched his fists. “Because I’ve tasted damn pond muck before, kid!”

“I'll take your word for it. Hmm. Have you noticed anything else that seems off?”

“I don’t know, Finn! I’ve never done this before!”

“Let’s start with anything that seems… out of place—or extra weird—to you.”

“Well.” Lars huffed and paced. “First there was the whole disintegrating thing, then that screen that told me I died.”

“You got that screen, too? Huh, I thought that was just a glitch.”

He nodded and rubbed at his chest. “Yep. And then I floated around in there without a body for who knows how long. Then it wouldn’t let me squeeze my hand like it told me to. And then—shit kid, my chest is killing me.”

Finn raised a finger and poked at the wound with a black claw. “Looks like Biscuit here got you pretty bad. That's not like her. It must have been an accident. You shouldn’t be able to feel anything that real, though. It should feel like a slight pressure from your haptic suit. Just enough to let you know your torso took some damage. What does your health bar say?”

“Health bar? Where the fuck is my health bar?!”

The kid rolled his eyes. “Your health bar? Shows how close to dead you are? You know what? I bet you turned hardcore mode on by accident when you fell into the trough. You don’t get a heads up display in hardcore mode. You’ll have to pull up the menu and change it in the settings.”

“And how the hell do I do that?”

“By connecting your thumb and your pinky, like this.” Finn sighed, then moved his fingers together. He stared at them for several seconds, a confused look in his black eyes, before he finally said, “Huh.”

“That’s the best answer you got for me, eh? Huh? Aren’t you supposed to be super smart or something, Mr. MIT Robotics Club?”

“No. I mean, yes. But it’s not that it’s…” Finn tried again. “Huh. I can’t seem to pull up the menu. That is also extremely peculiar. You try it.”

Lars connected his thumb and pinky like Finn had shown him. “I got nothing.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. I have a bad feeling about this Lars. A terrible feeling.”

Lars blinked. “Explain please.”

“Well.” Finn considered. “At first I thought all the irregularities were because this was a terribly built Beta… but on second glance everything is rendered really well. The frame rate is impeccable. The textures? Flawless. It all looks like a standard Dungeon campaign. Almost better than standard, if I’m being honest. It feels… real. And that scares the living hell out of me. Especially since things are a little... off.” He stared at Lars for a few moments, then shook his head. “Listen, little guy. I’ve read enough GameLit to have a hypothesis about what’s going on here, but that’s... impossible. What I can tell you is that something’s not right, Lars. You’re not right.” He looked down at himself. “I’m not right.”

Lars threw his hands in the air. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!”

The kid chewed on his lip, at least as well as a monster with protruding tusks could. “We’re gonna need to run some tests or something. And then there’s the whole—”

Lars crossed his arms. “What?”

“Have you looked at yourself? Like, really looked at yourself?”

“I don’t care about that, kid! I just want to get out of here. And I need you to do whatever helps me get out of here. And until you can get your thinking cap on and figure this shit out”—he clutched at his bleeding chest again—“there’s gotta be something you can do about these cuts!”

Finn gave him a weak smile. “Lars, if we’re stuck in... hardcore mode—and I think we are, we’re gonna need to find you a healer. And we’re going to need to find us some help. But first, I really, really need you to take a look at yourself.”