Tunnel Rat

As he had every four hours for the last several months, Algernon ran a basic diagnostic test on the two pods in front of him. As expected, every system was functioning normally. He spent twenty minutes visually inspecting hoses, feeding tubes, medication levels and settings by hand and eye, confirming what the test had shown him: Everything was normal.

Next was a full medical examination of both people inhabiting those pods. This took longer than normal since the pods were hooked into his own systems and not tied into the world-wide data net. He'd been tempted so many times to send their data to several neurologists he had worked with before in the hopes that a set of fresh eyes might see what he didn't.

But every time he had paused, considered what would be at stake. They'd have questions about modified nervous systems, integrated cybernetics, and the patient’s current situation. He might never get the answers he needed and would have exposed too many secrets. It was simply the pressure of having no answer to a problem that bothered him. A problem that involved the life of two of the four people in the world he cared about. Half his world was laying in those pods, somehow trapped in a make-believe reality thought up by an AI.

They had discussed if the AI was responsible, but dismissed the idea. WALL-E had a dozen rules in his kernel that would stop him from causing this much harm to a human being. Something else was going on here. Something was keeping their minds locked up.

Disconnecting the pods entirely from the game hadn't helped at all. Worse, he had detected immediate symptoms of decay in their nervous systems. The electrical impulses along their nerves, both natural and enhanced, had slowed. Total synaptic activity moved downward to 30% of normal in only 42 minutes. After he had reestablished their connections, things had improved, but it had taken two weeks for their brain activity to return to normal. Disconnecting wasn't the answer.

While he had stayed and watched over the unmoving bodies of Nina and Onyx, his siblings Bork and Zander had went looking for answers. Data bases had been ransacked and experimental procedures examined.

They had kidnapped and interrogated over two-dozen of the techs who had been working in the facility where they had stolen the MK7 pods. They got a lot of useful information about ways to hack into the game system, but they hadn't found a way to wake the sleepers.

The pods that Onyx and Nina used had been slightly modified for a specific scheme. Nothing at all that should cause two people to suddenly be trapped. They offered restricted classes that should not be available without years of playing. Not necessarily powerful classes, but each had some special abilities unique to that class.

Onyx had run around in the game for two weeks before Nina had joined him. They had figured out part of the scheme, but it wasn't going to be possible without the full crew. Briefly they had talked about finding and stealing the other pods, but they were scattered around the world. More difficult, one had been destroyed in a fire.

The pods and the game had become just another way they amused themselves during breaks. Just another ancient arcade game or starship simulator. Until the day they didn't log out of the game, and Algernon couldn't help them.

Zander was sure that whatever had gone wrong had something to do with the scheme, but had no proof. But with no other leads, they had acquired three normal Mk7 pods, bought three accounts for the game, and set out to find their friends. They'd explored every nook and cranny in Shadowport, and then followed the trail of slavers to Fort Hopeless, and from there into the Imperial Capitol. All leads had been exhausted.

Zander and Bork had to get back to their work, but were still following leads. Algernon monitored the pods, sleeping in the same room, running test after test. He wanted to try one more thing, but it was risky. It might mean taking the chance of being seen by the AI.

They had the name of the member of the development team that had taken a large sum of money in exchange for adding certain quests, items, and character classes into the game. It was part of his job to create them, but in this case some of the options were tailor made to aid in a certain scheme. A team of players with these classes would be able to quickly complete a Legendary Quest. Completing that quest would lead the players to another quest that they could easily accomplish which led to a huge amount loot. This could be sold for real world dollars to corporations vying with each other for the control of cities and countries.

They'd like to talk to this person. Preferably in a way that he had no idea of who they were.

They debated simply offering the man more money. Lots more money. They also made plans to snatch him, and keep him in a dark cell until he told them what they needed to know. Both plans had large flaws and could generate unwanted attention in the worst way.

Still, something had to be done to help their siblings. They were trapped in the game like rats in a cage. Algernon couldn't help but feel that time was running out.

"What's our timeline for being operational, Eric?"

Eric Kresthammer paused, and stroked his beard a bit, then drew out the first word. "We...ell...that depends."

He'd used that opening line with John so much it had become a habit. John had a tendency to toss out questions when he was thinking on something, and somehow expected answeres. Not being a telepath, Eric wanted a few seconds to catch up before he answered.

"Depends?"

"On what question you are actually asking. If you want to throw a press conference, we are ready. Level 57 has been totally refurbished. We have working restrooms, lights, air conditioning. The stage and screens are finally up and we have the gardeners working on the landscape non-stop. It's ready. Just don't promise any tours of the pod farms and other things on the employee level."

John didn't like that; he'd already planned a big tour of the entire building. "Why not? I thought we were running ahead of schedule on that?"

Eric smiled. That section was a bright spot in this otherwise horrible project. "Oh, we are. The new engineering firm is worth every chunk of money they charge us. They had the design for the bottom twenty floors to us in less than a day, with all materials sourced, skilled craftsmen showing up for installation, and all five thousand pods ordered and set to arrive when we need them.

This facility will put others to shame. It doesn't look like a prison, and has amenities for the workers including recreation and work out rooms, a cafeteria, and individual sleep cubicles for those that don't need to leave the facility. We’re spending money now, but I’ve got faith it will pay off, especially in less time lost to machinery repairs."

"But here’s the problem; you aren't going to be able to get down there from the upper floors for another month.”

“The old elevator was a death-trap. Bad cables, missing pieces, and rotted infra-structure. Engineering scrapped the whole thing. Everything comes out, the shaft is rebuilt, and new elevators are installed. One high-speed elevator and two that can accommodate both people and machinery.”

“A great system, but you won't have it for a month. Don't promise tours unless you want to use a rickety platform in the next section, or trudge down dozens of stories on the stairs."

John took several deep breaths, realigned his plans, and moved on. "Right. We can change things. We'll simply do a video tour of the stuff downstairs and emphasize how we take safety seriously."

"What about the three levels we are converting to living quarters for my family?"

Eric showed him the pictures. “Nearly done. I tried to make it all look like the house on the lake including full wall screens that mimic the windows. They even show real time views of the forest outside your old residence. The swimming pool is the same size, and we landscaped around it to make it look like what she is used to."

John looked at the pictures. "Great. She'll love it."

"I hate it."

"Belinda, we've gone over this. We had to move here to oversee this project. It's incredibly important to me. To us. Our family. We have to be here."

Belinda moved into the room, her motorized chair gliding easily over thick carpets and the uneven ground in the 'outside' area by the pool. "No, Daddy, you needed to move here. I could have stayed home. We'd been there a whole year and I was starting to make a couple of friends in town. Now I'm living in some cave inside the rotting hulk of a mostly abandoned building."

Her father tried to choose the right words. She'd been so much easier to convince when she was seven. "Belinda, be reasonable? Uncle Eric worked hard to make this look like the old house. He even has plans to set up an arcade like that place you went to in..uh...that little town we lived in a last year.

Belinda slumped in her chair. Her father would never understand. To him every place was the same. Somewhere to leave from to go to work, not a place to live in. She wondered why they moved at all and just didn't rent a floor of a nice hotel. "Dad, that little arcade with old video games was fun because I had made a couple of friends. Friends don't come with the machines."

"Got it. So, no arcade?"

Belinda waved her right hand. "No, let's keep it. Maybe I'll make a friend here. You said thousands of people live in this habitat?"

John couldn't imagine inviting any of the hab dwellers into his home. "Well, yes, but it will be really hard to meet them. It's not a place for anyone to be running around, especially…."

He was interrupted by Belinda. “Especially poor little rich crippled girls in wheel chairs. I get it. Not like I’d make friends with four of your goons hanging around.”

“Can you please call them bodyguards, Belinda? They don’t like being called goons. Most of them worked for your grand-father and now they work for us.”

She raced her chair around the area, noting the horrible screens that mimicked their old home. She'd enjoyed the little time she had spent in the little woods by the house. This was just a reminder she wasn't there. Better than a painted concrete wall, she'd keep them. Maybe reprogram them, one to each of the big gaming channels? That could be fun. She considered the problem of meeting people. You didn't convince Daddy of anything unless it appealed to him. He'd been a lot easier to manipulate when she was seven.

"Fine. Then we'll have a party and invite people from the habitat so I can meet them."

John took note that Belinda wasn't whining or arguing with him. That meant she had a plan, and was at her most dangerous. "What?! No. Why would we do that?"

Belinda smiled at him. Her left arm couldn't leave the armrest, but she could type very fast with it. One of the screens went blank, and then showed the presentation she was writing.

"First: Publicity. You have a project and you need stories in the news. This will do it. You get those fancy levels ready; we turn them into a gamer's paradise and show what we can do. Invite all those industry professionals you want to impress. You can't launch a new gaming channel just by putting up some footage and hoping people tune in.

Second: We show that we want to be part of the habitat, not just another fly-by-night company.

I want all the arcade games, the good old ones, set up on the next level with comfortable places to play them, and lots of snacks and food. Then we invite a thousand residents of the habitat ages 10 to 17 to come have a party. A lot of them should be the children of the people you are hiring to work in the pods down stairs. We play games and eat junk food for a day.

Third: Advertise your new Man-Power services by showing in-game events in real time. Send people on a raid, build a town, construct a castle. Show off what Man-Power can do for a corporation that rents from us.”

Belinda paused. "How's that for a start?"

John considered. For thirty seconds of work she had a rough outline for something that could pay off "Looks good. But what are you hoping for?"

"Me? I'll settle for meeting a few people that will game with me even if it's Ms. Pacman from 1982. And I'm keeping any of the games I like for my own arcade. Non-negotiable if you want my help hosting the party for the kids."

That was a cheap price to pay. "Just arcade games though? What about GENESIS?"

Belinda spun her chair back and forth, thinking. "That would be nice. I have one person I’ve met, someone I really like in Shadowport, but he's a little bit of a loner. I'm not sure if he'd join my group."

John suddenly had an idea. "How's this? You find four people from the habitat that you want to play with and we have you lead an adventuring party. Stream it over the new channel. "

Belinda's considered that, and then smiled. "That could be fun. You'd have to promise to buy them accounts and pods. And we need a headquarters!"

John tried to figure out what she meant. "A headquarters? Like a clubhouse online."

"Ooh. That's good too! Maybe a dilapidated castle we can fix up. But I was thinking of a real-world headquarters. Where we can hang out when not in the game. Play the latest console games, chug the latest energy drinks, talk about the coolest gamer gear that has been sent to us. Then log into the game from the club house."

Ah, that's where she was going. "You're thinking product placement, advertising dollars, endorsements. That could work. A brand-new team of untried gamers lead by the lovely Belinda, hero of Shadowport. You could be as popular as Timmy in a few months. You have a hell of a head start from leading that raid. Damn. I should have been there with you. Can't believe I missed a world first!"

"Just wait until we finally kill the boss, then you can jealous of the real uber loot. My ring was just a gift."

John's mind still had a hard time wrapping around the 'gift' idea. "You're sure that thing is soul-bound? You know you could sell it for a cool million right now." Hell, he'd spend a million on it.

"Sorry, Daddy. Soul-bound and all mine. Plus, you don't meet the requirements for Empress."

Her father laughed. "No, I sure don't. Only one Empress in the family. But are we good? You'll forgive me for moving?"

Belinda considered. "If you follow through on the event, the sponsored group, and the compensation for my guys, yes. But tell Eric to come talk to me. I'll help him with the planning. I know you'll dump this project on him immediately."

John winced. "You know me too well."