Back in the Game Read online

  I was most interested in meeting the person who had created the Dream Engine and orchestrated the ruining of my life. What kind of person could control an entire company and make back alley dealings with murderers on the side? It was both scary and fascinating, and as crazy as the idea was, I was interested in hearing what he had to offer.

  I must be crazy, but I guess I’ll know for sure when I can measure myself against a truly crazy person.

  Chapter 20: Heaven’s Gates

  Just as New Calandor had been before doing a Tertiatier dungeon, there was no option to go to Heaven in the settings list. When I accessed the Gateway in the Onjira Village and saw this, I figured I would have to go there by riding Peragon from New Calandor, which I had been planning on doing anyway.

  I selected New Calandor on the map and quickly made my way out of the city. I summoned Peragon and took off over the valleys and gorges that followed the harbor bay up the coast. The beautiful but ragged countryside reinforced the western frontier style setting along with canyons perfect for shootouts and a railway track that cut right through them. I wondered if this involved any ‘Cowboys and Indians’ dungeons but doubted it. The social implications alone would be enough to give Wona some bad PR.

  I continued to fly over the gullies and stretches of fields that seemed to go on until the end of the map.

  It’s funny that I first thought the Storm Wall in the Barrens was the end of the Dream State. I wouldn’t have guessed that it only splits the two eras between whether or not gunpowder and firearms can be used.

  On the ocean’s horizon I could see several naval ships that made up a battle fleet as well as a large island further north. I could only guess at the different dungeons and adventures these places contained, however, the dotted line on the map went straight over a small port town at the end of the land.

  I shot down toward it, feeling the rush of warm wind that always impressed me with its attention to detail. I thought I would have to at least mention that when I met President Wona. My assumption of the port town was that it was an incomplete setting. This was not only because there were no ships in the harbor but because it was simply called ‘Land’s End’.

  However, as I came closer I noticed large landing platforms that reached out over the ocean and gasped upon seeing what was on them and what it meant. The place had airships, like blimps with steam powered motors on either side of them. What Brock had said to me suddenly made sense.

  So the third era he was talking about is distinguished by steam power and coal power. But it has archaic weapons and vehicles as well . . . so, does that mean it’s a steampunk world?

  The fashion of NPCs was similar to New Calandor, if a bit rougher and more conservative, keeping the corsets and suits, but removing the puffy dresses and white wigs. Although I was tempted to go down and take a look at the port or take a ride on an airship, I had been exploring for going on two hours now and didn’t know how long it would take for me to get to the meeting place once I reached Heaven.

  I soared upward over the water and continued ascending, looking for any sign of land. It seemed I really had reached the end of the map when I noticed a change in the color of the water. It went from a light blue in the sunlight to a darker blue in the shadow of what was above.

  I gazed up and saw the massive clouds overhead. They took up most of the northern sky, and I couldn’t help but think that above me was an entire setting dedicated to the theme that Land’s End had only touched on. They looked like the clouds over the Penance Peaks, but instead of being gray and ominous, they were white and fluffy.

  As expected of a place called “Heaven.”

  I pulled up on Peragon’s shoulders and rode it up into the massive, blinding white of the clouds. The air was cooler now as I passed up through the mist, slowing Peragon down so I didn’t run into anything up there.

  When I emerged from them, the first thing I saw was a landing platform. Next to it was a sign saying: “NO STEEDS HEREAFTER.” I was blocked by an invisible barrier as a window popped up telling me to dismount. I did so and dismissed Peragon, now able to walk through the barrier and look around in awe of the place. Think of heaven and then double it and you might have an idea of what I was seeing.

  The giant clouds filled the horizon with only the barest hint of a city that I could just make out in the distance. The only thing that blocked me from going there was another giant barrier, this one visibly made up of huge golden gates.

  If those airships I saw before are only used as Gateways like the ship to Pirate Cove and the horses to Ghost Town, this must be the barrier to the next era just as the Storm Wall is the barrier to the gunpowder era.

  “This is nuts,” I said as I approached the golden gates.

  As I arrived, a window popped up on my screen that said: “Heaven’s Gates: Restricted Access. Speak to Sentry Peter to gain access.”

  I looked up to see a large podium standing to the left side of the gates. Standing behind it was a bald man with a long beard, but instead of wearing flowing white robes like you would expect of a Saint Peter character, Sentry Peter was wearing a uniform like a guard of a superior station, complete with suit and bomber hat.

  He seemed to see me and called, “Come forth, child.”

  His voice was booming and compelled me to move forward to take a closer look at the podium.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  Wouldn’t Saint Peter know my name? Or are they really just using the Heaven theme as an allegorical metaphor? Perhaps you can fight angels and demons in there.

  “Noah Newbolt,” I said.

  The old man pulled out a large ledger and began looking through it. “Ah, Newbolt. Oh dear, you are guilty of very many sins.”

  I frowned. “Like what?”

  He tapped the piece of paper. “While you have been in the game you have stolen, murdered, committed adultery, and most egregiously, disobeyed direct commands from our Lord Creator.”

  President Wona didn’t create me. Still, I’m surprised he was paying so much attention to me while in-game. From the adultery thing, he must even know about Chloe kissing me while Sue was still alive.

  “I have weighed your sins and found you wanting,” Sentry Peter declared.

  “So with these sins I can’t get into Heaven?”

  He closed the book with a thump. “There is no man without sin, Noah Newbolt. All you have to do is ask for the Lord’s forgiveness and make amends for your transgressions. Only then will you be granted access to Heaven.”

  Yeah . . . right.

  “How will I do that? Where do I meet him?”

  “All you need to do is call on him and you will be in his presence.” Sentry Peter spread his arms. “Ours is a kind and gracious Lord.”

  “Okay then,” I said, and then in my most belligerent voice, said, “Hey Windsor! I’m here! Let’s get this thing over with! I have lawyers that need talking to!”

  Sentry Peter frowned, and at first I thought nothing would happen, but then a gap opened up in the pathway in front of me with a staircase leading down into darkness. At first I thought this was analogous to descending into hell, but as I looked up at the old sentry, he just gestured me forward.

  “Our Lord awaits.”

  I nodded suspiciously and began down the stairs into the darkness. The staircase was long with red lighting that went down each wall, as though to prove my suspicions of its hellish theme. However, I had already done the Sulfur Pit and there wasn’t anything fiery or brimstone-ish about the room I was approaching.

  How could this be worse than that?

  When I finally reached the end of the staircase, I saw that I was in a small dark room with two cushioned swivel chairs between a small table and a bright screen embedded into the back wall. It resembled a private movie theater, but much cozier.

  I walked further in, feeling cautious, when I noticed that someone was sitting on the right-hand chair.

  “Come and sit down, Noah. You have nothing to f
ear,” a clear, commanding voice said.

  I came to the chair on the left and sat down in it, looking at the blank screen. I turned to see the man sitting next to me. He was a handsome Asian-American man wearing a suit. He had an air of intelligence about him from the way he held himself. He smiled at me as though it were a professional courtesy.

  “I’m Windsor Wona, the one responsible for this place.”

  Chapter 21: The Truth

  “Don’t you mean Lord Creator?” I asked incredulously.

  “Ah yes, that banter you’re famous for.” Windsor nodded in amusement, he was a lot more jovial than I had assumed for someone of his station. “I thought you would find that entertaining.”

  “You talk as though you’ve created this place with me in mind.”

  Windsor inclined his head. “What you really mean is that I talk as though I know you. Granted, there’s only so much you can learn about someone in a month, but I feel that I got the gist of your character.”

  “Like what?” I asked, ready to deny anything he said.

  “That Sue was your life before she was taken, and that you would do anything to see the ones who took her from you brought to justice.”

  There was silence as I realized there was nothing about this statement that I could deny. It was all there, my intent, my reason for being here, everything.

  Windsor gestured out a hand. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. I invited you here to make a proposal after all.”

  I crossed my arms. “What makes you think I’ll accept anything you have to offer me?”

  Windsor shrugged. “I don’t, but you did accept my invitation, which shows that you’re at least a little curious of what it might be.”

  He’s not exactly wrong.

  “I’m willing to humor you for my own amusement.”

  Windsor slapped the arm of his chair playfully. “That’s the ticket! But first let’s start with a little movie, shall we? I think you’ll find this one rather enlightening.”

  He grabbed a remote control from the table between us and pressed a button. The screen came to life just like one of the previews played in the Galrinth theater district.

  The first thing to appear was a black screen with the title: Wona Laboratories 2056 under the red Wona logo, a red W made to look like a game controller. The video was set over four years ago.

  “This isn’t just the history of your company, is it?” I asked.

  Windsor shook his head. “Oh no, this film was made just for you.”

  “Propaganda,” I muttered.

  The first video showed silent security footage of a group of young men and women standing around watching a demonstration of a vintage Dream Engine helmet. A man in a lab coat was putting it on and taking it off again. Although I couldn’t read his lips, he must have told a joke for the whole group laughed.

  “Notice anyone familiar in that crowd?”

  It wasn’t until he said this that I recognized a boy at the back of the crowd. Although he was younger, I could tell it was definitely Brock by his fair hair and cheesy grin.

  “Your friend has been a part of this company in some way or another since its very conception,” Windsor narrated as the screen went black again.

  The title: Wona Interview Room 2057, appeared on the screen and another security video appeared. Once again it showed Brock, but this time he was sitting at a table talking to a man in a suit. The man passed him a slip of paper and Brock began filling it out. The camera zoomed in to show what it was. It was a job application.

  At the bottom of the application, boxed in red was a non-disclosure agreement. The video played, showing as Brock came to the end and signed it before handing it back. The video then changed to a still photo of the application with ‘Evidence 1’ scrawled in red across it.

  I’m beginning to see where this might be going.

  The next video showed three clips cut together of Brock playing on a gaming station similar to an arcade style driving simulator. His hair length and clothes changed with each clip as the years 2057, 2058 and 2059 appeared in the corner of the screen.

  “He enjoyed working for us. The fact that he stayed with us for three years should tell you that much.” Windsor leaned forward and linked his hands in front of his face as the screen went blank again.

  Another title appeared: Wona Laboratories 2059, soon followed by ‘Evidence 2’ Missing: File Corrupt.

  A missing file?

  “Unfortunately, we no longer possess working copies of these videos, but I don’t think you need to see them again anyway. I’m sure you’ve seen them already.”

  Windsor eyed me, and I realized from his look that this was where the videos of the beta testers being overdosed was supposed to slot in.

  A sudden confusion rushed over me. Unfortunately? Wait, they actually want those videos as evidence? Then why did Bitcon crush the orb to delete them?

  The next title read: Wona Interview Room 2059. The video showed Brock looking much older than in the first video. He was once again sitting at a table opposite a man in a suit. He looked sleep deprived and distraught with gray rings under his eyes. Like in the second video, he was passed a piece of paper over the table, and although reluctant, he began to fill it in.

  The camera once again zoomed in on the document showing the title: Confidentiality Agreement. My mouth dropped as I clearly saw on the video as Brock signed the agreement at the bottom. The video switched again to a still image of the confidentiality agreement and then a consent waiver, each with Brock’s signature clearly scrawled at the bottom and the words ‘Evidence 3’ and ‘Evidence 4’ written in red across them.

  So, they didn’t forge his signature. Brock lied to me!

  The screen went blank again and the next title read: Wona Database 2060.

  Unlike the previous security footage, this was a video of a dark room. After a momentary edit to skip forward, it showed a young man walking between the computer desks, shining a penlight around the room. He sat down at one of the computers and booted it up before sticking a portable device into a USB slot.

  From the light of the screen, Brock’s features were clearly visible. He went about using the computer, and although the screen wasn’t facing the camera, what he’d told me he had done corroborated what the video was showing. The video paused on Brock’s illuminated face with the title ‘Evidence 5’ written in the top right corner.

  “A little breach of conduct here. Breaking and entering, breaking a nondisclosure agreement, breaking a confidentiality agreement, perjury. All criminal offenses.” Windsor sighed. “Each of the beta testers knew the risks of the drugs we were testing on them. We can go back through all of the confidentiality agreements and consent waivers that were signed by them if you don’t believe me.”

  “I see what you’re doing.” I ground my teeth. “It won’t work on me. Your men killed Sue. That’s all that matters to me.”

  “I thought as much.” Windsor pointed to the screen. “But this is all that will hold up in court. Proof that your friend broke his agreements and broke the law. I don’t know how long he could end up in jail for. We could always go easy on him, but . . .”

  Is he really trying to blackmail me with this?

  “I don’t care!” I shouted. “You killed Sue!”

  Windsor nodded, as though listening to me, but not agreeing. He pressed the play button. “This is where your involvement comes in, or should I say this is where Sue’s involvement comes in?”

  He flicked over Sue’s old website with her petition to get the DSD banned from stores as well as the promise of evidence that would put Wona away. He fast-forwarded over most of her video blogs she had made pointing out how evil the Wona Company was.

  “Really, there’s no point in dredging all this up again. I’m sure you’ve heard these authoritarian arguments made a hundred times when you lived with her.”

  I gripped the edge of my seat in an attempt to control my anger. “What’s your point?”

 
; “The point is this.” The videos changed into an interactive computer screen as Windsor used the remote to pull up an email inbox. He clicked on the search bar at the top.

  Wait a minute . . . is he showing me his emails? Why would he show me his emails?

  Windsor typed in “Sirswift” and a list of all the emails to and from his nephew rolled down the screen, showing that his email address also included the name he used in-game. Windsor then scrolled down to just before the date of the car crash that had paralyzed me and killed Sue.

  “Any ghost file tracker on the Internet will be able to tell you that I haven’t deleted a single one, and I swear that the authenticity of each email will hold up in court,” he said and clicked on an email written a week before the date of the crash. It read:

  Dear Samuel,

  It has just come to my attention that there is a girl with a lot of followers who is creating a petition that may lead to the company losing a lot of money. I want you to convince her to stop. You may use company funds to try and bribe her, you can try to scare her, but do not use violence. I make myself crystal clear on this. I don’t want anyone connected to Wona to be convicted on assault charges. If they find out we’re related, it will look bad for the family. The links to her website and her details are attached below.

  Regards,

  Windsor Wona

  (Wona CEO)

  That’s . . . Wona didn’t . . . I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  “Samuel was always a bit of a vicious dog, loyal, but quick to bite.” He exited out of his emails to show one more video.

  This one was the silent traffic footage from the top of a street pole, showing the highway traffic lights where my adventures in the Dream State truly began. The scene played out similarly but not the same to how I remembered it. My car was at the red light with nothing ahead of it. It showed the car behind me and the smallest glimpse of a young Asian man behind the wheel.

  The lights turned green and my car went to turn off of the highway. It was most of the way off the road when the car slowed, as though it had nearly stalled. I knew already that this was where I had blacked out from being under the influence of DSD. However, there was still enough space to go around me.