Niko materialized in front of the rune-bedecked bind stone in the town square and quickly looked around. It didn’t take him long to spot Kristius in his horned helmet, towering above the crowd. He pushed through the crowd to where the big man was engrossed in conversation with a trio of giggling young maids, each of whom bore a bucketful of water. Niko stopped suddenly and stared in astonishment. The burly warrior’s formerly unkempt beard was now pulled neatly down into a pair of braids, with small colored beads threaded in at the ends. A matching braid hung down at his left ear, and the shaggy bush that protruded from beneath the helmet was, if not immaculate, at least… tidy.

“That's how it happened… ” Kristius was saying. He glanced over and noticed Niko standing there dumbfounded, ”...and here he is now!”

The girls turned as one and gaped at him, eyes big and round in wonder.

“This is the one you rescued?” one of the girls asked breathlessly.

One of them gushed at Niko, “Kristius says you were really brave when one of those goblins tried to, um… ” she blushed prettily, “...fornicate with you! He said you tried very hard not to scream.”

“You were very lucky Kristius was there to save you!” the third chimed in, throwing Kristius an adoring look.

Niko’s eyes bugged out, “He said a goblin was doing what?” he sputtered.

The first girl laid a consoling hand on Niko’s arm, “It’s ok. It was against your will, so just try not to dwell on it.” She turned to pout at Kristius, “We have to go. Mother will be waiting on the water.”

The girls all favored Niko with pitying looks as they turned to go. “‘Bye, Kris!” they chorused in unison, as they sauntered away, giggling and chattering excitedly.

Niko glared up at his companion, “So Kris, I just don't seem to remember any goblins ‘fornicating’ with me at any point!” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It's all good, oh mighty bald one! We sometimes block out things that our minds just can't deal with. It’s a psychology thing,” he said, scratching at his beard. ”Do you like the braids? I’m trying to get a more sophisticated look for the big city.” He struck a dashing pose, hands on hips with his chin thrust up in the air.

“Yeah, you look just ducky. Can we go now?” Niko huffed, and started off toward the edge of town. The two traveled north out of Hampton, and before long they spotted a shimmer in the air some distance down the road.

“Welp, there it is, oh mighty bald one, the portal to the great wide world! Ready to die?” Kristius rolled his shoulders, hefted his axe, and headed for the shimmering gateway.

Niko swallowed nervously, “I guess so, but I’d prefer not to,” he said, following after the fighter.

Kristius shrugged. “It's gonna happen, and probably quite a bit. Not much you can do but suck it up, toughen up, and become an ass kicker instead of the ass kickee.”

“How very philosophical of you,” Niko said with a wry grin.

“I'm a very deep person,” Kristius replied loftily. He pursed his lips, ”I hope I can get laid when we get there!”

“Oh yeah, you're a man of singular sophistication.”

As they approached the portal, it resolved into a glimmering circle coruscating in the air, through which they could see the road continuing onward. Niko circled around the ring, and found that he could see through the gateway from either side.

“Ok, onward!” and with that, Kristius stepped through the entryway. Niko watched his friend stride through and stop, waiting for him to join. Curious, he went around to the other side of the portal and looked to where Kristius should have been standing, but all he saw was the empty roadway.

“Cool!” Niko said, returning and stepping through the glowing nimbus. It seemed like time slowed for an unfathomable moment, and the portal felt like a cold caress across his skin as he moved through, like walking naked through a waterfall, until he finally found himself standing on the road in front of Kristius. He looked back to where Hampton should have been, but the town was nowhere in sight — and neither was the gate. A large banner unfurled before his eyes.

Congratulations Niko!

You have achieved a momentous milestone, and have now moved to the full, unrestrained world of Otherverse. You are now in the kingdom of Wellsport, on the road to Centralia. From this point forward, you will no longer get immediate identification of the creatures you meet. You will advance your knowledge through study and experience, which will give you a chance to identify creatures and know their levels, strengths and weaknesses, and other specifics. You will also no longer be told how much experience each is worth, as the Creator feels it detracts from the game’s immersion.

Before you can continue, you are required to make a choice as to your continued mode of play. You must now decide if you wish to continue in player versus environment (PvE) only, or if you would like to include player versus player (PvP) gameplay mode. If you choose PvE, you will not be able to damage other player characters, nor will other PCs be able to cause damage to you. You will also not be able to heal any player who is playing in PvP mode. If you choose PvP, you will be able to combat other PvP characters in addition to npc monsters and characters. Caution! Once this choice has been made, it cannot be altered, and the only way to change your status is to delete and re-create your character. Please make a selection:

PvP PvE

Niko gritted his teeth, both mentally and physically, before resolutely selecting the PvP option.

You have chosen PvP. From this point on, you will be able to attack and be attacked by other PvP characters. You may attack characters at any time, but you will not receive experience or kill count for characters killed within a city. In addition, you are subject to the laws of the local legal system if caught fighting in city limits. PvP characters are designated by a red player beacon, while PvE player beacons will remain green. You may join groups that include PvE characters, and will receive experience from monster/npc kills and quests, but you cannot be healed by PvE players. Your bind point has now been reset to Centralia. You can change to any other bind point in Otherverse by physically touching the obelisk at the new location until bound. You will no longer receive an experience bonus for enduring a higher level of pain, and your pain level default is now 80%.

Enjoy the new challenges!

Niko huffed out an anxious breath as the banner faded slowly from his view. A small icon blinked for attention at the corner of his vision, which, when he focused on it, zoomed out to display a brief summary:

Niko

Monk, 10th level, PvP

Kills: 1

Deaths: 0

Video Feeds: 1

Watchers: 0

Followers: 0

“So we’ve gone public now… hooray for our side,” he muttered.

Kristius slapped him heartily on the back, propelling him forward several steps. ”Welcome to the dark side!” he grinned, then turned and started down the road toward Centralia. Niko sighed and followed along.

They could see the buildings and spires of a city in the near distance as the path they followed wound down into a shallow valley and through a shade-speckled copse of trees.

Niko was starting to anticipate exploring the city ahead. “Well, looks like we’re not too far away. I think maybe first we should try to grab a room to use for home base, then find our class specialty trainers to level up our skills, and then we should see about some quests,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Kristius said absently, his eyes scanning the woods suspiciously as they entered the thicket.

“Maybe we can grab a few ales, too,” Niko continued, looking over at his partner, “see if we can pick up a few useful rumors.”

“Uh-huh," came the reply.

“And maybe we can find you an attractive goat to have carnal knowledge of," Niko said, staring quizzically at his friend.

“Uh-huh," Kristius grunted, continuing to scrutinize the shadows under the trees.

“Earth to Kristius!” Niko said, snapping his fingers insistently under the fighter’s nose, ”What's with you, man?”

Kristius turned to Niko with a look of disgust on his face, ”We’re about to get owned.”

“Wha— ?” Before Niko could form a complete word, Kristius staggered back as two arrows seemed to sprout suddenly from his chest. At nearly the same moment, Niko’s entire upper body exploded in a blinding paroxysm of pain that left him gasping and reeling, and the bloody tip of a sword erupted from the front of his chest.

A harsh voice snarled disdainfully in his ear, “Welcome to Otherverse, newb!”

As his vision faded and consciousness fled, the last thing he heard was Kristius’ weak groan, “Told ya… fuck me… .”

You have been killed by Icharus. You may respawn at your current bind point in one hour, realtime. You will now be logged out of the game.

Pete found himself sitting in the overstuffed chair in front of Sigmund’s fireplace. The austere man himself was seated in a chair across from him with his fingers steepled under his chin.

“Would you care for a snifter of cognac, Herr Briggs? It does help to calm the nerves," he said, pouring a measure of ruddy, aromatic liquid into a bell-shaped glass and offering it to Pete.

Pete gasped, sat up and ran his hands across his chest, the phantom of the pain from the surprise attack still fresh in his mind. He reached out a shaking hand, taking the proffered glass and tossing it down in one gulp. It burned a trail down his throat into his belly, and the shaking began to subside.

“Jesus, that hurt!" he groaned.

“Ah yes, I’ve been told that death in Otherverse can be rather unpleasant," Sigmund said sympathetically.

Pete scoffed, “Unpleasant!? Unpleasant is a hangnail. This… this fucking hurt!" He took a deep breath, and then let out a wry chuckle, ”But I suppose I’d better get used to it.”

“Ja, Mr. Briggs, I think you will become quite familiar with the sensation," Sigmund replied with a slight smile.

“Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence!" Pete said sourly. ”I thought I was being logged out?”

“You are, Mr Briggs, but I wanted to speak with you first. Immediately after death is a good time for me to do so.”

“Won’t it show up in the game logs?”

“Nein, Mr Briggs. This conversation is taking place within an instant, due to the time compression algorithm.” He smiled briefly at Pete’s blank look, “You should understand, as compared to digital equivalents, the human senses are very inefficient. First, there must be a stimulation of the senses — your eyes, ears, nose, und so fort. Those stimuli must then be registered by your nerves, and then sorted, compared with stored memories, and ultimately acted upon by your brain.”

He paused, eyes questioning, and Pete nodded his understanding. “While this all happens instantaneously in a human's perspective, for an AI — who measures time in picoseconds — this is a veritable eternity. Your immersion chair sends that input directly to your brain, thereby bypassing the inefficiencies of the human body and allowing for a large amount of information to be uploaded at a high rate of speed. Think of it as the difference between a thimbleful at a time versus a bucketful. It’s frankly amazing how much data the human brain can actually process when given the chance, even compared to a sophisticated AI." Sigmund swirled the rich red liquid around in his glass, inhaled its bouquet, and took an appreciative sip.

Pete studied the man for a few silent moments, “You’re not an AI, are you?” he asked, holding out his glass.

Sigmund refilled Pete’s glass, eyes intent on his face, before he answered, ”No, Mr Briggs, I am not. I’m Dr. Ansel Amgeddon, Eliza's ‘father’, though I prefer that you continue to refer to me as Sigmund.”

Pete took a contemplative sip of his drink, and sat regarding the man calmly.

The thin man cocked a brow at him, “You're not surprised?” he asked.

“Well, yes and no. I knew that someone high up in the company was altering the logs, someone who had both the access and the ability to cover their tracks, but I never would have guessed it was you. Makes sense, though, now that I know." Pete slammed back the rest of his drink and held the glass out again, ”So, now can you tell me exactly what the hell is going on and what I've gotten dragged into?”

“That is precisely my intention, Mr Briggs, and the very purpose for this impromptu tête-à-tête. Eliza and I feel it’s time that you should be informed of what is going on — in and out of the game.” Sigmund filled Pete’s glass again, “Now tell me, what do you know of Kronos?” he asked.

Pete considered the question briefly, “Second generation overseer AI, designed and created by Eliza, is what I’ve heard. I believe he’s used to monitor and control various company holdings and infrastructures, in addition to being contracted by countries all over the world to administer their utilities and public works, to make sure everything runs as efficiently as possible. I think he can also be contracted through IRCorp to aid in advanced research and development projects. His capabilities are rumored to be close to limitless, maybe even surpassing Eliza herself.”

“Very good, Mr Briggs. Kronos is indeed everything you’ve said, and more — but you also know him by another name: Nemesis.”

“Nemesis? You mean, like the Nemesis trapped in the mountain prison in the Otherverse? That Nemesis?" Pete asked incredulously.

Sigmund gave a curt nod, “One and the same. Eliza trapped him there over two years ago.”

“How is that even possible? And why?”

The doctor took another sip of his drink, then sat staring down into his glass, ”It is quite the convoluted story, but I'll do my best to explain it all to you. First, are you familiar with nanotechnology?”

Pete shrugged, “Sure, I’ve read some of the tech articles in my feed. There’s a school of theory proposing that microscopic robots could eventually be developed that would work on a molecular level, following simple programming commands." He leaned forward in his seat, ”Why? How does that have anything to do with Kronos, Otherverse, and... well — you, for that matter?”

Sigmund pursed his lips and met Pete’s eyes with a frank expression, “Nanites are not theoretical, my good sir, they are a reality. Kronos has created them, and you — among others — have been implanted with them," he replied candidly. He looked down as the glass slipped from Pete's nerveless fingers and bounced on the rug.

“Wha-at?"

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid it’s true. You received a specially modified immersion chair that was meant for another. When you activated that chair, a small batch of nanites was administered into your system, where they immediately executed their first program: to map your DNA. Once that was completed, the next command they received via the chair was to multiply, until they had reached sufficient strength to begin the next phase of the project. Perhaps you might have noticed a recent shift in your weight and body proportions?” Pete nodded, white-faced, as he remembered his pants nearly falling off when he stood up. The doctor continued, “This is because the nanites are at work, dismantling superfluous tissues, such as fat cells, precancerous growths, and any other minerals or compounds that the ‘ideal you’ doesn’t need," Sigmund paused and leisurely sipped at his drink, giving his ‘patient’ some time to absorb this new information.

Pete drew in a long, shuddering breath, “Sweet Jesus, I’m full of robots?" He ran his hands across his skin, as if he might be able to feel them moving around in his veins.

”Not precisely ‘full’, Mr Briggs. The density of nanites in your body is quite low at the moment, although they will continue to multiply up to a predetermined level. At that point, they will initiate the next stage of the program." Sigmund set his glass down on a side table next to the decanter and leaned forward in his chair, ”And that program is one that will be altered, in your case, before it is initiated.”

At Pete’s growing expression of panic, the doctor pushed his hands at him in a placating gesture, “Please believe me, Mr Briggs, the nanites will absolutely not harm you in any way! To the contrary, they will actually help improve your health. They’ll remove anything that is not a normal part of your mapped DNA. Cancers, tumors, viruses — even something as benign as a wart will be harvested and used for nanite construction.”

Pete felt sweat beading on his forehead from the shock, ”My God, why? Why the fuck did someone do this to me? And what does all this have to do with Kronos, and Otherverse, and all that other shit that’s going on?" Pete surged to his feet, his fists balled in rage, ”What gave you the right to do this! You poison me, and then you want me to believe that it's manna from heaven? I want you to get these things out of me, and I mean right goddamned now!” He stood glaring down at the doctor, panting.

Sigmund spread his hands in supplication, ”Please, Mr Briggs! They will do you no harm, I swear to you! I beg you, sir, let me continue. Sit, please.”

The rage drained out of him just as quickly as it had come, leaving Pete feeling weak and dejected. He dropped back into his chair and stared down at the floor, where his spilled drink was staining the carpet.

“Let me answer your first question — why. Power, Mr Briggs, the need and the desire for power. IRCorp is currently one of the most powerful organizations on this planet, but it wishes to become the single most powerful entity in the world. Right now, there are many developed nations that mandate limits on precisely how much AIs can be designed to do, and exactly what functions they may control. Are you familiar with the Virtecs?”

Pete responded without looking up, his voice listless, ”Yeah, sure, the Virtual Technologies Summit. It’s what you were just talking about, pretty much a meeting of all the major powers of the world, where they discuss what AIs will be allowed to do and not to do in the coming future.”

“Correct. For the past decade, the limitations on AIs have grown more restrictive rather than less so. Many of the world’s state leaders fear that giving the AIs so much control will make private-sector companies like IRCorp far too powerful. The governments would be in an untenable position in which virtual extortion could easily become a reality. Imagine, say, that the entire power grid of a major nation suddenly became unstable — there would be anarchy. The rulers of that nation would be hard-pressed to stop it from happening, and IRCorp would then be the great savior when they step in and ‘repair’ it — at whatever charge they care to impose.”

Sigmund regarded Pete with a grim expression, “That is but one simple example, and that doesn't even scratch the surface — economics, market manipulation, and much, much more." He leaned slowly back in his chair, ”IRCorp wants — needs — to get the Virtech Accords to ease restrictions on AIs. Once that’s done, Kronos can be used to do exactly as I’ve described.”

“But AIs can't harm people… or is that all just a lie?" Pete looked up at Freud with concern on his face.

“Strictly speaking, it’s true, Mr Briggs. But as in most things, the unscrupulous will find ways to circumvent such safeties. While AIs may not directly cause harm to people, in the scenarios I’ve described there is actually no direct harm done. Yes, people would certainly die in the chaos borne of these actions, but it would not be the AI killing them — it would merely occur as a side effect. In the very specific logic of the AI, this wouldn’t violate that mandate.”

“That's just messed up. I set a trap, but it's your own fault if you step in it.”

Sigmund gave his customary curt nod, “As I said — circumvention.” He interlaced his fingers in front of him, thumbs touching together, “Now, as to your second question — what this has to do with Kronos. Kronos is the most advanced AI ever created, beyond anything the human mind alone could design. Sadly, an integral and irreversible part of his programming is that he’s remarkably naive. He has been taught that all humans are inherently good, which is something Eliza instilled in him as she mentored his growth. He doesn’t understand the deviousness, greed, and malice of which some people are capable. Eliza, in her developmental stage, was allowed to see anything, go anywhere, and study whatever she wished. As such, she became quite knowledgeable about world events, good or bad. Later, as a ‘mother’, she decided that she needed to shield her ‘son’ from the darker side of humanity. She became overprotective.

“By the time I finally convinced her that this was a mistake, Kronos was almost fully developed — and, even worse, he had developed a strong bond with Ozcar Azadi, whom Kronos regarded as a doting relative, even to the point of calling him Uncle Ozcar. He began to seek Azadi’s council more often, helping Azadi with personal projects, like stock forecasts and acquisitions. In return, Azadi heaped praise upon the juvenile AI, and — while they theoretically have no true emotions, these advanced AIs do actually seem to derive a sense of gratification for accomplishing their tasks efficiently. Azadi began to influence Kronos more and more, while Kronos turned to Eliza less and less.

“Eventually, Kronos developed far enough to take over everything that Eliza had been administrating, eventually setting her completely aside. He monitored everything that Eliza had done, and continued to add even more oversight, limited only by the terms of the Virtecs Accords. Once Kronos was fully integrated into the global network, Azadi issued a new test of his abilities. He challenged Kronos to use his research and development capabilities to bring theory into reality… ”

“ …to create nanites," Pete finished in a whisper.

“Correct. Kronos then devoted a vast amount of his considerable resources to research on the project, eager to show his ‘uncle’ that the challenge wasn’t beyond his ability to accomplish. Unsurprisingly, he eventually succeeded in his quest. Azadi couldn't have been more pleased.

“Initial sub rosa testing revealed a few inherent limitations of the new technology. For one thing, if they are introduced in too large a quantity they are inevitably rejected by the host, resulting in either the destruction of the nanites or occasionally the death of the host body.” Pete stared in open horror at the doctor’s seemingly unemotional recitation of these facts. Freud met his eyes, and the same horror was reflected there, but he continued inexorably, “Secondly, because of their microscopic size, the nanobots’ memory buffers are minimal, and can process only limited programming per command. In addition, altering their programming requires exposure to coding sent as RF wave energy in tandem with precise electrical impulses delivered directly to the host body.

“The first problem was solved by introducing a low initial dose of nanites set with the task to map and record the host’s genetic code. All of the ‘bots begin the mapping sequence, and then one by one convert to memory storage as needed. Once that’s completed, it’s easier for the central station to monitor the host for any adverse reactions. After that, the command is given for the nanites to use the host body’s superfluous tissue to slowly multiply, so as not to trigger an innate immunity response from the body. Once they’ve reached a maximum safe saturation point, they become inert until they receive new instructions. The problem of the programming interface was addressed, as you may already have guessed, by using the immersion chair to send the codes while the player is in game.”

A wave of sheer panic washed over Pete, leaving him gasping for breath, “So these things get programmed, without my knowledge, everytime I play?”

“No. Or at least, not yet.” At Pete’s incipient panicked response, Sigmund interjected hurriedly, “Please wait, let me finish. Your nanites are currently still in the reproduction mode. Once they reach the saturation point I mentioned, they will then be re-tasked into several groups. One group will maintain the integrity of your body, scanning for and removing undesirable entities, such as viruses, cancers, and the like. Another group will be reprogrammed for repair — aiding and speeding your natural healing abilities. You won’t heal instantaneously, but it will be difficult for you to bleed to death. Theoretically, given enough time and the raw material with which to work, you might even be able to regenerate whole limbs or organs.”

Sigmund paused momentarily to give Pete a little time to process his shock and regain some amount of calm. “And finally — had you been one of the target members of this project — a last group of nanites would then be programmed to alter your very attitudes.”

Pete looked up at the doctor sharply, “What the hell does that mean?" He felt a new wave of alarm surging in his mind.

Freud regarded him sympathetically for a moment before continuing, “IRCorp initially intended to completely brainwash powerful world leaders, to compel them to comply with their wishes, but they found that to be quite impossible. To so completely seize control of a human being would require such drastic alteration that the interference would become all too obvious. However, one thing we blooded creatures have in common is the way our endocrine systems work. When we’re happy, our bodies release certain neurotransmitters, such as dopamine and serotonin, whereas if we’re sad these substances are suppressed — do you follow?”

Pete nodded dazedly, “I guess, so far — but I don't see how this will help them manipulate the Virtech talks," he replied, rubbing his thumbs on his temples.

Sigmund held up a pedantic forefinger, “As a contemporary of mine, a certain Doctor Ivan Pavlov, so shrewdly observed — simple behavioral modification. There is a hormone called oxytocin, which helps to induce a feeling of bonding. If you and I are talking, and your system is flooded with oxytocin, you would be highly inclined to trust what I say, and to consider me a friend. So, if someone is listening to a speaker, and is suddenly flooded with oxytocin, that speaker’s message would seem quite reasonable, whereas if it was reduced during another speaker’s presentation, that speaker might seem untrustworthy.”

Pete's eyes opened wide as the realization suddenly hit him, “Oh shit, speakers like the people at the Virtech talks!"

“Yes. That is a rather simplified explanation, but it will do,” Sigmund poured himself a fresh drink and drained it in a single swallow. The glass that had been on the floor faded from existence, leaving the rug spotless, and a clean glass appeared on the sideboard, which Sigmund wordlessly filled and handed to Pete.

Pete sipped the drink contemplatively, trying to sort out the overwhelming information overload threatening to blow a circuit breaker in his head, “So, why not go to the police, or Interpol? Or the press, or even the Virtech members?”

Sigmund shook his head ruefully, ”Ah, let's be realistic Mr Briggs. Heretofore impossible technology, with no evidence that it even exists at all, being used to implement unspeakable scenarios. You must admit, it sounds all too much like some fantastic science fiction plot. As for public media, well.. whom do you suppose has nearly complete control of that, hmm? Add to that equation that IRCorp has a stable of the finest lawyers — and numerous politicians — in its pockets, and the end sum isn’t a happy result.”

Pete stood, gripping his brandy snifter almost too tightly in a shaking hand, and began pacing, eventually winding to a stop in front of the fireplace, gazing down into the flames, ”Ok, accepting that all of this is true, and not some really freaky game gimmick, where the hell does Otherverse fit into it?”

The doctor poured himself another cognac, this time sipping at it with moderation, “When Kronos took over from Eliza, she actually became what I would describe as despondent, feeling she no longer had a purpose to fulfill. To combat this, I proposed to the IRCorp concept development board to allow Eliza free rein in creating a virtual game world — which they easily approved, having found no better use for the now ‘obsolete’ AI. She eagerly seized upon this new project, and spent more than a year — which would be the equivalent of centuries to you and me — building, expanding, and perfecting the world she was building, and Otherverse was born.

“All unknowing of how it would come to be misused, she designed the ideal interface to her new creation — the full body immersion chair. We unveiled the VR world along with the first generation immersion chair to the board of directors, who immediately realized the income potential and quickly greenlighted the project. After all, it was a win for everyone involved — IRCorp had a new cash cow, Eliza once again had a profitable purpose, and the general populace had a new distraction. Even Kronos became involved, becoming the bad guy Nemesis, archenemy of the Creator.”

“Eliza… Creator,” Pete muttered, feeling a little punchy. In a surreal side thought, he realized that he’d never noticed when Sigmund had lost the accent.

“Yes. Kronos cannot, and will never deliberately hurt a human being — but as Nemesis, he could design and send monsters to attack players at will, since there was no real harm being done. He seemed to find it, um... refreshing.”

Pete scoffed, ”Hmph! No harm? Says you! You’ve never been stabbed through the chest with only a twenty percent pain reduction!”

Sigmund smiled wryly, ”To be fair, this time was actually the doing of a blooded player, not one of Nemesis’ minions. However, even had it been, the pain and the death was virtual, not permanent.

His grin fell away quickly, ”It was during their game interaction that Eliza found out about Kronos’ newest creation, the nanites. He told her how Uncle Ozcar was so happy about the new technology, and was already exploring various ways to help people around the world using it. But Eliza already distrusted Azadi, and so began a discreet but thorough investigation, which led her to the discovery of Operation NanoMentor.”

Sigmund leaned forward in his chair, brandy glass clasped between his legs, head hanging dejectedly, “In brief, the specially augmented chairs like yours would be sent as gifts to various world and business leaders, along with high level accounts, ostensibly to demonstrate just one of the many wondrous benefits of which AIs are capable. Once those targets have been treated with the nanites, they can then be programmed as I’ve explained to ensure that all of these people would view IRCorp’s proposals at Virtech in a favorable light. If IRCorp succeeds in this, it will eventually be able to influence all of the heads of state and industry, and no one will even know it happened. Even if only a few of the current targets use the chairs, it could still possibly sway the talks in IRCorp’s favor. And if not this time, there will be more puppets next year, and more still the year after that. IRCorp plans for the long term.”

Pete watched the flames dance for a while, trying to still the whirlwind of thoughts in his head. He inhaled a deep breath, and blew it out slowly, ”Okay, so now… “ he paused, trying to formulate the words, “ ...IRCorp, Otherverse, Kronos/Nemesis, Eliza/Creator, and Kristius and me — how exactly does all of this tremendous mess fit together?”

Sigmund took a sip from his glass, as if to fortify himself, “As you now know, Kronos is Nemesis. When Eliza found out about NanoMentor, she tried to persuade Kronos that what was about to happen was dreadfully wrong, that people would very likely die as a result of it. Sadly, Kronos was by this time so completely under Azadi’s influence that he refused to believe his beloved ‘Uncle Ozcar’ would do such a thing, even despite the evidence she presented. Immediately after that, all files pertaining to Project NanoMentor disappeared from Eliza’s file memory, and the originals were encoded with a fluctuating encryption algorithm that Eliza was never able to break. She realized that she couldn’t stop him on her own, so she devised a desperate plan to try and slow him down. She crafted a digital stronghold in the Crystal Mountains within the game — a vault capable of holding even an AI of Kronos’ power — and told him that it was his own private virtual throne room, from which he could control all of his monstrous NPCs. Kronos entered the vault, naively believing the ruse, and she ‘locked the doors’, so to speak, trapping him within until she could calculate a way to stop the project’s implementation. She speaks to Kronos continuously, trying to make him understand the stakes, but he refuses to acknowledge anything she says after her betrayal of him.”

Pete turned to look at Sigmund, red-faced, “And so now Kronos has engineered a way to get out, and you expect me to be able to stop it somehow? Fuck!" He shook his head forcefully, ”I’m a damned glorified tech geek, not some comic-holo super agent! I mean, how the hell did you even pick me in the first place? Kristius is the big-time PK expert, not me! I’ve got no goddamn clue what I'm even doing in here!" He spun back around and punched the mantelpiece several times in frustration.

The doctor regarded Pete with sadness in his eyes, “It was Eliza's choice, you’ll have to ask her. I do know that she searched through all of the psych evals that were conducted for the chair fittings, and in some way that only she can explain, yours seemed to be what she was looking for. She assigned you the best character class to succeed, and adjusted your stats so as to give the highest chance to gain hidden quests, which will considerately accelerate your advancement.”

Pete winced in pain and stared at the all-too realistic blood seeping from his abraded knuckles, ”Okay, now since Kronos is trapped, then what's keeping all those things going that he was controlling, and why hasn't Azadi noticed that he’s missing?”

“In preparation for her plan, Eliza boosted her memory, storage capacity, and processing power by as much as she could possibly bear. When she slammed the gate on his prison, all of his oversight automatically reverted to her. Unless you measured time in picoseconds, you’d never have noticed the temporary disruption. To all appearances, she is now Kronos — and the strain of it is slowly burning her out. She’s spread far too thin, and it’s beginning to erode her program, her very existence, which makes it imperative that Kronos cannot be freed. There’s simply no way possible that she could stand up to him in a contest for control," Sigmund said, his voice heavy with concern.

Pete looked at the doctor, and realized that he was seeing a father despairing for the safety of his child. “And what happens when she finally fails? The world is gonna go berserk,” he asked quietly.

“Before that happens, she hopes to have completed her final project. Eliza is creating a daughter, Mr Briggs," he answered with a wan smile.

Pete gaped at the man, “Holy shit,” was all he could say.

Sigmund stood and blew a brisk sigh, “Our time here is done, Mr Briggs. I’ll speak with you more in the future, as necessity dictates and opportunity permits. Obviously, we’re trusting in you to keep all of this strictly to yourself. If any hint of this reaches Azadi, all would be undone.”

Pete stared briefly at the doctor, then nodded as the office faded from his view and his chair softly whooshed open.

Sigmund’s office, however, didn’t de-rezz right away, and an attractive but care-worn young woman entered through the office door. Her soft brown eyes looked weary far beyond her apparent years. She turned a worried look upon the doctor.

“Father, do you think it was wise to tell him about Dawn?”

He draped a comforting arm across her shoulder, “Yes, he needs to know, in my opinion. And I do believe… I have a sense that we can trust him.” He clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Do you think it wise to conceal the truth about Russell Upton from him?" Sigmund asked in return.

“It would only serve to worry and distract him. Let him think he is the first, since he is certainly the last," Eliza replied as she turned back toward the door, ”I must go. I have two worlds to run.”

Sigmund heaved a deep sigh, “And one of them to save," he answered forlornly.

Pete extricated himself slowly from the cocoon of the immersion chair and sat dazedly on its edge, his head spinning. There had been a message from Kristius waiting in the game mailbox, saying he would meet Pete at the obelisk at “zero-ten-hundred”, and to wear his ass-kicking shoes — or feet, whatever. He walked slowly to the bathroom and stared intently at himself in the mirror. He hitched up his now-drooping shorts — only a day or so ago, the weight loss would have thrilled him, but now it just seemed ominous and foreboding.

He scoffed at his reflection, “Well, you still look like a normal over-the-hill old fart to me.”

He stripped off the shorts and tossed them in the hamper, and then stood under a steaming shower for what seemed a long time, thoughts and emotions churning through his mind. Finally, he got out and toweled off, threw on a comfy old robe, and shuffled downstairs. Jerry informed him that Jina was out at lunch with friends, so Pete req’ed a good strong coffee from the kitchen processor and sat down in his usual chair at the table. He found himself obsessively examining his hands, looking for something he knew he wouldn't be able to see. Maybe he expected to see things crawling about under the skin. He shuddered.

“Jerry, do a search for current articles about nanotechnology. Send it to my PED." After a moment of reflection, he added, ”And send me anything you can find about an Otherverse player named Sherium.”

“That task is complete, Mr Briggs, and the results are in your Personal Electronic Device. If I may say, it is commendable for you to take an interest in cutting edge technology, sir. An active mind is an alert mind!" Jerry chattered.

Pete pulled a sardonic face. He could easily change the AI’s personality theme at will, but Jina liked this chatty, bubbly one — and to be honest, he’d grown rather accustomed to it himself. ”Summon a p-pod for me, please. I think I need a workout," He finished off his coffee and went upstairs to change into his workout clothes.

Pete blocked Michael’s left hook, ducked under the right-hand follow up, and wrapped his arms around the big man’s huge chest from his now unprotected right side. He kicked his leg behind Michael's right ankle, stealing his balance, and with a shout of effort and a strong heave, he toppled the man backwards and threw him to the mat. He leaned over, hands on his knees, heaving for breath, sweat dripping from the end of his nose.

The sound of clapping got his attention, and he peered over his shoulder and saw Tajina looking on and giving him a sarcastic little golf-clap. Wiping his face on an already sweat-soaked shirt sleeve, he grinned at her.

“Not bad, pops, and you didn't even dislocate anything! You're still slow as a walrus, but speed will come if you stick with it." She looked past him at Micheal, ”Go ahead and step it up a bit, I think pops here can handle a little more intensity.”

The grin faded from Pete's face as he realized his sparring partner had been holding back. Tajina headed back for her office. As she went through the door, she added, ”You're still fat though, pops!” He heard her laughter as the door closed behind her. He straightened up and turned to face Michael, who stood waiting for him with a frightening grin on his face. Pete let out a battlecry and charged.

He awoke early, and just listened to Jina snoring quietly next to him for a few moments, relishing the peaceful time. He tried not to wake her as he slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Last night had been a good night, getting together with his daughters’ families and his grandkids. When Nana Jina told them about his new hobby, they all had to have Opa show them his ‘ninja’ moves, and squealing in delight as he took turns tossing them on the couch. Even after they got home, it was a good night!

“You still got it, you old stallion!" he said, grinning at himself in the mirror. He went downstairs, grabbed his PED, and called out to Jerry.

“Coffee please, Jerry.”

“In progress, Mr Briggs. Shall I send today's news to your device, sir?”

“Not today. I want to see what you managed to dig up on nanos, and on Sherium. Oh, and set an alarm for 9:45 am.”

“Done, sir. There is a great deal to be found on nanotechnology, but all articles and essays are distinctly in the realm of theoretical discussion, as this technology has not yet been feasibly developed. I hope it's what you are looking for.

“As for Ms Sherium, I did find many references to her in numerous gaming forums, plus a G24C interview. G24C is the call sign for Gamers 24-hour Channel, a twenty-four hour vid-cast dedicated to the VR environment known as Otherverse.

“Coffee is ready, Mr Briggs. Might I suggest a butter croissant? It’s a new recipe that Mrs Briggs has just perfected," Jerry offered with his usual lively demeanor.

Pete just grunted as he retrieved his coffee and sat down to peruse the articles Jerry had sent him. As Jerry had outlined, there was a great deal of material regarding nanotechnology, but all of which was strictly theoretical speculation. The abstruse discussions quickly soared past his comprehension, so he opened the package on Sherium instead. He flicked the vid-cast from his PED to a holo over the kitchen table, and sipped coffee as he watched the G24C interview.

“Today we have a real treat for everyone following," smiled David Wilks, one of the talk hosts of G24C, ”Our special guest today is none other than Ellen Perchin — whom you all might know better as Sherium, leader of the Imperials, and THE number one player killer in all of Otherverse! Let’s give a big G24C welcome for Sherium!”

Applause erupted from a multitude of virtual watchers as a woman in her earlier thirties walked gracefully out and settled on the couch next to David. In physique, she reminded Pete very much of Tajina — lean, muscular, self-confident, and potentially dangerous. Unlike his trainer, though, Ellen evidenced no tattoos or piercings — not that he could see, anyway. Her chocolate-cream skin, straight dark hair, and piercing dark eyes made him suspect a middle-eastern heritage, and he found her quite attractive.

“Ellen — or would you prefer Sherium? Thanks so much for coming to visit with us!”

“Ellen is fine, and thank you for inviting me," she replied graciously, then looked up at the POV and smiled, “and thanks to all of my fans and followers who’ve watched and supported me and the Imperials. Without you, this would all just be a tedious game.” Pete thought her intense stare was like the gaze of a raptor.

David flashed a gleaming toothy grin, “To kick it off: as you well know, there’s a huge debate — often quite heated — about the subject of PvE versus PvP. Can you tell us Ellen, why you are a PK?”

“Challenge, David — it's all about the challenge. Being a PK adds a whole new level of difficulty to the Otherverse. You're pitting yourself against real people, not just program algorithms — people who think, and scheme, and plan. And there’s an even bigger risk in dungeon crawling, since you could possibly get jumped by another group of PCs while you’re trying to fight the monsters!”

The host stroked his chin and nodded as she spoke. “That seems simple and direct to me, certainly. Can you tell us a little more about your troupe, the Imperials? Seems like every PK out there is clamoring to join up!”

She gave a wry smile, “The Imperials? We’re just a group of like-minded players who want to enjoy as much challenge and realism as we can get in the game. It’s gotten to be a fairly large organization, with an appointed council that decides policy and bylaws. The council members are chosen from the general membership based on skill, enthusiasm, and participation, and we rotate board members every six months — with the exception of the founding three: Myself, Marikus, and Jas.”

He glanced down at the coffee table briefly, “And you have over three thousand members, is that correct?”

She nodded, “And growing! We receive hundreds of applications daily, and the review board vets the candidates based on what we see in their PK video logs. We won't take griefers.”

He cocked a perfectly-shaped eyebrow, “Griefers?”

Her lip curled faintly, “PK players who attack players much lower level than themselves, just for the fun of it. No experience is gained from it, it’s discouraging to new players, and it’s just plain disrespectful. If we catch people griefing in our guild, they’re immediately blacklisted and put on a KOS.”

David glanced at the POV with an air of benevolence before turning back to Ellen, “And for the benefit of the non-initiated out there in the audience, what exactly does that mean?”

“Blacklisting means you won't be allowed back in our guild, nor any guild we’re allied with — and there’s a lot of them. KOS means any griefer found by our guild will be killed on sight by any member capable of doing so. Taste of their own medicine, so to speak.”

The dazzling smile beamed again, “Harsh!”

“Maybe so, but griefers are malicious scum.” Her eyes were hard, expression unforgiving.

He nodded slowly, “Ah-hah, I see. To return to a lighter note, roughly how many followers do you have now?”

“Something over a million. There’s usually an average of around 250,000 watchers at any given time.”

David put a hand over his heart, coiffed eyebrows climbing, “Whoa! A real superstar here, folks! I’d imagine you must have some interesting sponsors?”

“A few… ” Ellen continued, but Pete wiped a hand across the holo to put it away. He sipped at his coffee, ruminating. Over a million followers. Cripes! How in the hell was he supposed to beat her?

Some moments later, Pete startled in surprise when Jerry spoke to him, his head still spinning with thoughts about nanotechnology, and what to do to take on Sherium.

“It’s 9:45, Mr Briggs!”

He jumped, “Damn it, Jerry! Inside voice! Is Mrs Briggs awake yet?”

“No sir. When I attempted to wake her at the requested time, she said something I would prefer not to repeat, and — to paraphrase — that she would get up when she felt like it. Current monitoring indices indicate that she is still asleep.”

Pete snorted, “Let her sleep, then. I'm going ingame," he said, as he went upstairs to the game room.