C+6

  Your Rage has increased by +1

  Alastair looked at his updated interface. On the surface, all the same information was there. But there was more of it. It was enough to satisfy any curiosity and, when drilled down, enough to make a data geek smile.

  Alastair adamantly refused to be a data geek, though, but realized he would likely need to delve into these submenus and figure out optimizations to get to one hundred percent. Huh? When did that desire start?

  It was odd that he considered a ‘New Game Plus’ might be worth exploring. If it weren’t for the dude stuck there, he would have run headlong into the keep multiple times over until the game glitched and he escaped this stupid trapped game.

  And now, with Interface 3 unlocked, that stupid number stared at him, showing just how much he had not yet done in this game. Despite his rage, he was furious.

  The storm clouds were obvious as they approached the city. It almost appeared as if those clouds confined themselves to the city. Just one more frustration with this game. Every other person had an easier start, a more comfortable introduction, and a more defined path to figure out how to exit this escape room. He and Flor had been thrown into an uncomfortable situation, forced to repeat it time and again, and only survived by running into the wall headfirst. Their marriage was on the rocks. And now, despite all these misgivings, he was being asked to stick around in this awful situation to save someone else.

  He would do it, but he would do it with a grudge.

  The gates were open and the party strolled right through. “Go charge up. We hit the carillon in fifteen minutes.”

  Two hours later, five party members finished the first floor. Despite his frustration that everyone had taken so long to assemble, it was obvious that the multiple-person party was powerful against the first-floor automatons.

  Motioning the party around him, he asked, “Is there any reason not to just plow ahead?”

  Flor raised her hand and he acknowledged her, “Yes?”

  She seemed a bit disgruntled, then hesitant, but then said, “The reserve party doesn’t benefit. There is no value in having five. You should limit the party to four, for now.”

  Alastair looked at Flor, the woman he loved, the woman who had been so cold to him these last several days. Then he looked at the other party members. Galoots, who had always been addicted to the monastery, but possibly truly wanted to find and sell all the secrets available in a playtest before someone else could monetize it. Sparks, who seemed reverent to a made-up video game goddess, but generally competent if he could be dragged away. Maelstrom, who had once killed him without remorse, now looked as if she wanted to curl up and take a nap in her boots.

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  “Uh oh,” he whispered.

  Galoots looked up and said, “What’s up?”

  Alastair scrambled for an answer. “I was thinking, it’s just that…” Think, man, “Did you ever meet those players at the farms? The ones looking for their sister? They aren’t here, but maybe they should be.”

  The others around the table looked confused. Flor said, “I haven’t met them.”

  Then Galoots said, “Trots and Grumps {Galoots refuses to acknowledge them by their desired nicknames…} are…not…not lovely. They seem like they want to escape something in reality, but they didn’t get all they bargained for.”

  “Did you know…do you know where they are from? There is a girl in the lighthouse who seems like she’s missing family,” said Flor. Alistair was happy to hear her speak up. And that she was bringing things together as she did so well.

  Galoots answered, “Something like Eastern Europe. They…have an Eastern European demeanor about them. It’s hard to tell, though, because of the game skins.” It was quiet on the steps as if no one knew what to say. Galoots looked sheepish. “I…I’m not racist. I don’t know how to classify them otherwise. How can we identify characteristics of a person without being lambasted for description?”

  Alastair wanted to say something, anything, about the situation.

  Sparks broke the silence, “Do you have peace in your heart, Galoots? If so, then we can probably overlook the words that you spoke.” Sparks looked contemplative, “I know, probably, as well as anyone here, that persecution exists.” She smiled. “I’ve experienced it. Personally. Terribly. And not something I’d like to relive.”

  Alastair realized that all eyes were on Sparks.

  “I…no. The… In the early twenty-first century, the Vietnamese government cracked down on social media and video games. But the intent, which might have been an inadvertent attempt to discourage laziness, spread to every aspect of life. Anything that sang of gamefaction or influence was targeted, unfairly, and even silly things like comparing grains of rice harvested became anathema. Life became…unnecessarily…strict. Could you imagine…I’m not sure any of you have children. Two little boys being punished for pretending to race against each other?

  “People aren’t evil. Systems are evil. Systems of belief that demand complicity.

  “I haven’t learned much in this game. I think I’m unusually drawn to praise the goddess. Which is frustrating because I would kick Jesus off his throne. I would punch Shiva. I would slap Buddha for allowing this level of samsara. I am a pacifist who has been driven to dramatic action. And I regret that I feel these emotions in the game, but in life I try to survive, to exist, and it’s impossible to…to be me.

  “So, no, I don’t think those Eastern Europeans are lazy, or up to no good. They are probably very much like me. A nearly seventy-year-old woman who uses video games to experience a world that could be wonderful and bizarre. I crave peace. This game gives me none of that.”

  The party sat, waiting, wondering if she would say more. The silence allowed them all to be introspective.

  “That was not the motivational speech we needed,” said Maelstrom.

  Sparks stood, spry, happy, and hopped over to Maelstrom, “It was not a burden off my chest. We are a team, now, and we will all be individuals after. I will return to reality knowing that I helped those along the way, and maybe I will learn something to help more people when I return. What will you take away from this?”

  “You believe in your story. But seriously, we’re stuck here now. Pull your weight, and maybe I’ll think your sob story has value.”

  Alastair was still transfixed on something Sparks had said. Governments could still control people?

  Flor and Alastair had lived in Europe for years. The US was a mess, but it at least allowed people to escape.

  Had he ever understood what was going on there? Or was he just fortunate enough to have a spouse that allowed him to escape?

  “I… don’t want to be stuck in this game…”

  Flor said, “That’s why we’re fighting here, man. Pay attention and maybe we can clear levels faster.”