Seekers climb sim verse.., p.1
Seeker's Climb (Sim-Verse Book 4), page 1
SEEKER’S CLIMB
Sim-Verse: Book 4
ALLEN KUZARA
Copyright © 2020 by Allen Kuzara
All rights reserved.
“there is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on the fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life is in shallows and in miseries.”
― Shakespeare
CHAPTER 1
JARON SLAMMED THE accelerator, winding the e-bike’s simulated gears higher and higher. Ordinarily, pushing it this hard would result in a blown engine and the cyber grid’s gaming module would make him start over. But for the first time in recorded history, he and the rest of Kairos were joined together in spree mode; spending every bonus ability they had and using every cheat code they knew. Because, unlike other days, this game was life or death.
Had this been for sport, Jaron would be wearing riding gear. But no one had planned for this. There had been no time. His face exposed, Jaron felt the dry night air sting his cheeks like he was riding through an invisible stream of sawdust.
“Map,” he called out. Usually, just the thought was enough for Jaron’s neural interface to bring it forward. But tonight, his mind was running as fast as his e-bike, and not even Kairos’s planet sized computer grid could keep up.
The map, a transparent overlay of Stratum Seven, appeared. It was one of Kairos’s sparsely populated warehouse districts. Jaron saw streaking lines. They were his brothers and sisters racing down nearby streets. Like Jaron, they were de facto resistance fighters, a decentralized joint force. The cyber grid kept everyone connected, but there was no one in charge. The military as such had been disbanded after Cat’s overthrow, and Kairos had long been a technocracy, without any elected officials. Now it was every man, woman, and child for themselves.
Jaron found the closest blinking dots; three he’d spotted earlier. Strangely, he felt glad someone hadn’t taken them out already. These were his marks, his bogeys. He couldn’t control the unending hoard of incoming Seekers. But he could do something about this sector, this tiny square of Kairos that he’d decided to defend. And he could do something about these three dots…that is, if he didn’t catch blaster fire first.
He pulled his bike hard to the right, taking a ninety degree turn at the next intersection. Jaron scanned the terrain up ahead where the map said the Seeker soldier should be. He couldn’t see the soldier yet, and he was going too fast to calculate real distances. All Jaron knew was that the blur of lights and buildings would soon end with an up-close-and-personal interaction with this first off-worlder.
He strained his eyes, and his neural interface tried to turn on telescopic vision. But at this speed and with all the jostling of his e-bike, Jaron knew the visual enhancement would be useless.
“Stop. Normal vision,” he demanded.
As soon as his vision snapped back to normal, his e-bike emitted a loud beeping squelch. Jaron glanced down at it and rubbed his hand over its fuzzy semi-transparent electric surface. All seemed fine; his speed was steady, and the sound of the faux engine was normal.
The beeping grew louder and faster as he looked back up at the map. Just as he saw a streaking line intersect with his own, his e-bike shuddered and slowed. Jaron waved away his map and watched as a streak of red passed before him. It was another rider on her way to fight.
Jaron didn’t know whether to shout insults or cheer-on his sister in arms. But there wasn’t time for either. He twisted the throttle hard and felt the e-bike lunge forward, returning to maximum velocity. He struggled to stay mounted. This was the digital vehicle’s limit, the maximum speed the cyber grid’s safety measures would allow anyone to ride. Not all limits are a bad thing, he thought. Though he wished he could override this one.
Jaron saw a blue-white light shine toward him, and a fraction of a second later his bike veered to the right, dodging the blaster fire that ripped through the air.
“There they are,” he muttered.
The e-bike’s engine screamed, and Jaron prayed he would reach the soldiers before they got another shot off.
Right when he could make out one of the soldiers’ faces, Jaron leaped from his e-bike. He tucked himself into a roll, and the cyber grid did the rest, generating automatic environmental support to cushion his fall.
As Jaron stopped rolling and the yellow glow of the cyber grid’s crash supports vanished, he looked up and saw his e-bike still rolling. It rammed the Seeker, pinning the unsuspecting soldier into a building. Then the e-bike dematerialized, and the dead Seeker fell to the ground.
“Shield up,” Jaron shouted as he saw the two remaining soldiers dart behind warehouse boxes. He was now the one out in the open. Jaron stood and a transparent shield—the same color as his crash cushion—emanated from the plasma-box on his left arm. The shield was almost as tall as he was.
Using his free hand, Jaron pulled out his blaster from the holster on his hip. Immediately, auto-targeting kicked in, the gaming module still behaving as if he were in this for points and credits.
“Cancel targeting,” he instructed.
With all the advantages the cyber grid had given them, it’s core mandate of providing safety to Kairosians meant he couldn’t use it directly to harm someone. Smashing the e-bike into a Seeker was no small feat. It was only possible because the Seekers weren’t wearing neural interfaces, so the grid recognized them as objects rather than people.
“Still haven’t found what you’re looking for?” said a voice.
Jaron saw the wall behind the Seekers come to life with his gaze. “I guess you could say that,” Jaron snickered. “Know where I can find a Seeker or two?” Much to his surprise, the vid-wall was silent and didn’t proceed to show him some inane advertisement.
Blaster fire ripped up the air, and he turned to face his attackers. Only a short distance from them, Jaron had to widen his shield to keep from getting hit. They had bad aims, like all Seeker soldiers he’d encountered. And he wondered if they’d had any real training or if they’d simply been given uniforms, weapons, and marching orders all at once.
One soldier’s aim improved, and Jaron felt the gentle thump of the Seeker’s blaster fire impact his shield. The problem with widening it meant Jaron had trouble getting his blaster around it to return fire. He would have to drop his shield and take a chance. Timing was everything. Jaron noticed a pattern; the Seekers fired in slow three-shot bursts.
BLAP. BLAP. BLAP.
Pause
BLAP. BLAP. BLAP.
Pause
Jaron waited for his opportunity. During one of the short pauses, he pulled down his shield and fired at the closest soldier. Either it was luck, or Jaron’s aim was getting better from today’s impromptu practice. The Seeker soldier fell to the ground.
There was no time to check if the soldier was dead or not, because the third and last Seeker was still taking pot shots. Albeit his aim seemed even worse than that of his dead brothers. And his firing pattern was different, too.
BOOM
Pause
BOOM
Pause
Jaron soon learned why. With his shield up, he walked toward the remaining soldier. The Seeker found his target, and the impact knocked Jaron back several feet. This was no regular blast pistol. It must be a handheld plasma cannon, a much heavier load, which explained the firing pattern.
Another shot pushed Jaron back further, and he saw his shield blink off and on again.
“Not good,” Jaron said, realizing the shield was going to fail if he kept this up.
Jaron scurried backward. He kept his shield facing the soldier who delivered another couple of successful shots before Jaron found cover. Behind the corner of a nearby building, Jaron crouched down and called forward a mini drone. It materialized, and after a second, he saw with new eyes. Like the transparent map, he now could shift his focus between his immediate surroundings and the camera view from his drone.
He concentrated on the flying orb, taking control of it and maneuvering out into the street. “Bigger, brighter,” he said, asking it to change its color and size. He needed it to be noticeable.
As the drone whirled forward toward the Seeker, Jaron rolled his body around the corner, still crouched and as small as he could manage. He stayed behind his shield and directed the now pink melon-sized ball to zigzag up and down, left and right. It was a confusing sensation to be in two places at once, and Jaron had to keep his physical movements slow and simple.
Jaron aimed his blaster at the Seeker who seemed confused at having two targets but continued firing at Jaron. Repeatedly, the soldier popped up, fired, and dropped down again behind cover as his plasma cannon recharged. Jaron shifted his focus back to the drone. Seeing through its lens, he painted a target where the Seeker was positioned.
“Target acquired,” he heard a synthetic voice chime.
The drone stopped zigzagging and sped toward the Seeker. “Atta girl,” Jaron said, switching off his second set of eyes and focusing all his attention down the short barrel of his blaster.
The Seeker soldier popped up, shot, and dropped again. But unlike before, he had fired at the drone instead of Jaron. Jaron watched the Seeker rise again and fire a second time at the fast approaching orb.
“Gotcha,” Jaron whispered before dropping his shield and using two hands to aim his blaster. He held his breath and waited. Right as the Seeker successfully winged the drone, Jaron pulled the trigger. The soldier collapsed instantly.
Jaron knew he’d hit him, a kill shot to the head. But he pulled up the map to make sure. If the Seeker was alive, moving at all, the cyber grid would detect him.
Something was wrong. The three blinking dots he’d taken care of were gone, which was what he’d expected. But there were no blinking targets anywhere. Not even when he zoomed out. Must be a glitch, he thought. Maybe crashing the e-bike and having the drone shot down had corrupted the source code somehow. Or maybe it was like his shield that had flashed on and off; the cyber grid itself was overtaxed and malfunctioning.
Jaron didn’t think either solution made sense, but he knew reality was the way it was whether he understood it or not. Thinking otherwise could get him killed. He had to be sure the soldiers were dead before turning his back on them.
Slowly, he crept forward, his shield raised. He made his way to the warehouse boxes where the Seekers had taken cover on the other side. Jaron thought about pulling up another mini drone, but instead he cursed himself for being a coward.
Standing tall he said, “You guys dead?”
No answer. Which Jaron supposed was good news. A bit braver, he moved around the boxes to the corner edge. From there he could see the first Seeker he’d rammed with his e-bike. Then he jumped around the corner, twisting his aim toward the two Seeker bodies on the ground.
He exhaled. “Join the club, boys,” he pronounced. Jaron had lost count of how many lives he’d taken today.
He dropped his shield and holstered his blaster. Kairos grew oddly quiet. He thought he heard an e-bike screaming in the distance, but then it too stopped. In a never-sleeping global city amidst an inter-sim invasion, Jaron felt strangely alone.
“E-bike,” he said. And the cyber grid obeyed, placing one between his legs. Jaron jumped, the sensation never ceasing to surprise him. He grabbed the throttle and called up the map.
“Blast it all,” he muttered. There was something still wrong with the map. “Refresh feed.”
There was a chirp, which usually meant the program had complied with his request. But nothing had changed on the map. He watched as little lines strafed here and there, showing e-bike riders moving about his district.
“Zoom out,” he commanded. He now saw the entire district. Still no bogies.
“Further out.” He saw a regional view of Kairos, which was too big and the details too small for him to make out any Seekers.
Jaron waved away the map in frustration. Then he called up the neuro-lingual network. Maybe it could help him figure out where the fighting was, he thought. He read through the trending phrases and was shocked:
Victory
Long live Kairos
Invasion over
He read further down the list, but the words and messages were all similar. It had stopped; the invasion was over.
Jaron released his grip of the e-bike and sat back, upright. He breathed deeply and tried to appreciate the moment. He was living through more Kairosian history, just as he’d lived through Cat’s invasion and subsequent expulsion. If only his wife Kaleel could see him now, he thought. She had studied the past, the era when Kairosians had first emerged from the Oldlands, that narrow strip of land between the planet’s eternal day and night; before the days of technocracy and endless games and entertainment. What would she say about this moment? he wondered.
Off in the distance, Jaron saw a flash. At first he thought it was another e-bike rider, but the color was all wrong, and soon he realized the blur of white and gold was coming from multiple directions. He felt a chill go up his spine as seconds later the deluge of sparkling light flooded his position, covering the world around him.
He closed his eyes and thought of Kaleel. “Wish you were here, babe,” he whispered.
When he opened his eyes, the glow of virtual starlight that he and everyone else on Kairos were simultaneously immersed in suddenly shot upward into the night sky. It disappeared for a few seconds. Then there was a loud boom and crack as the largest fireworks display Jaron had ever witnessed lit up the night sky.
More messages came over the neuro-lingual feed. We did it! and It’s over! And similar congratulatory themes were shared.
The blinding explosion in the sky hurt Jaron’s eyes, making him look down. He heard a murmur, and he glanced over to see the Seeker he’d rammed with his e-bike twitch a leg.
Jaron raised his blaster with one hand and fired. The Seeker’s body flinched, then went still.
Jaron holstered his blaster and said, “Now it’s over.”
CHAPTER 2
BEFORE TAVEN KNEW about the Sim-Verse, he’d just been a miserable astro-miner. He had planned his escape, and when he’d first come out of the Hudson Construct, he’d told his wife Amy that he was through, that he’d find some other kind of work to do. Now, despite earning more money than he’d ever imagined, he was still as far away from his family as before. Taven thought he might rather trade places with his old self, go back to the way things were and be grateful; if only there wasn’t a blind Gatekeeper hellbent on destruction of the Sim-Verse.
In geo-synch orbit above Earth, Taven walked fast down the Braun Orbiter’s hallway. It was bad enough that the Joint Council had dragged him away from his work in Meta, the lost city of the Gatekeepers. But they’d further wasted his time by forcing him to land in a designated room at the far end of the jumper bays. They said he couldn’t open a portal in the board room anymore, because his unpredictable arrivals were too alarming for certain staff members.
That was all blasted lies, Taven knew. There were no real complaints. This was just about control—about politicians needing to substantiate their own existence. He had once complained about Meyer Corp’s red tape, but he hadn’t known the true meaning of the words until the Joint Council for Inter-simulation Affairs had taken over. They were the epitome of bureaucracy, a collection of representatives from across the globe. Taven had heard they met in Fort Kerak. He didn’t know if it was true, but he thought it was fitting for the vermin to meet underground in Earth’s most secure facility.
“Did General Stafford say there was an emergency?” Kenna asked. She and Dr. Hewitt had come through the portal with Taven and were following behind him, trying to keep up with his headlong pace.
“There better be,” Taven huffed. “It’s bad enough they didn’t let us help defend Kairos, but all this back and forth between Meta…I just don’t understand why they can’t let us communicate over our comm.”
“Minister Dault says—”
“I know what Minister Dault says,” Taven interrupted. “That doesn’t mean I know why.”
Kenna looked confused as if she couldn’t comprehend someone lying. This was just one of many differences between Earth and her home sim. Taven thought about explaining political deception, but he wasn’t in the mood. And besides, they’d passed all the jumper stations and were now at the meeting room.
They entered the waiting room area and were met by a virtual receptionist, little more than a holographic vid-feed that floated above a desk. “Welcome, Taven Smi—”
“Shut up,” Taven told it. “We’re here to meet Dault.”
“You may go in. They are expecting you,” the virtual receptionist said sounding insulted, as if that were even possible. Taven started for the meeting room door but stopped.
“What is it?” Hewitt asked. The usually jovial and chatty scientist had been quiet since leaving Meta.
“He’s changed it. Look.” Taven pointed to the lettering above the door. It used to read something generic, like Room 004. Taven couldn’t remember the specifics. But now it read:
Howard Dault
Minister of Defense
Joint Council for Inter-simulation Affairs
Taven huffed again and grabbed for the door which, much to his surprise, swung open automatically. They entered and were met by familiar faces.
“Ah, Mr. Smith,” Howard Dault said, not addressing Hewitt or Kenna. “Thanks for joining us.” The tall, thin man was mostly bald, having brown hair above his ears. He wore glasses, though there was no medical need for such antiquated trappings. Taven believed the conspicuous symbols were meant to denote one’s learnedness.
“What’d you do with the doors?” Taven demanded. “I thought everything was being kept on manual for security purposes.”
