CHAPTER 31: AN IMPORTANT DISCUSSION
I didn’t wantto ask, and before I could, Reggie asked for me.
“What makes you say that?”
“Something you have to understand is that I worked with the devs for a while before Onna and I decided to move into the game as NPCs. So I’m privy to behind-the-scenes intel that’s extremely NDA, but given what’s happening, I’m telling those I feel might be in need of it,” Casper said. “If we ever get out, I’ll be fired for this, but given my suspicions, that may be quite a long time from now, if ever.”
My ears perked up. “Oh?” I didn’t want to press, but anything we could learn might very well save our lives.
“Three weeks ago, Abarria’s headquarters were attacked. The security protocols fought off the cyberattack, but it damaged a number of lesser systems that weren’t under quite as heavy of protection. In fact, so many took some damage that nobody knew the extent.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Most of the devs called for a complete shutdown to assess what happened. But Abarria has been losing money for the past few years, and the thought of canceling player visits, especially during the leaner seasons, scared the bigwigs. They said no. Thedevs balked, and some of them left the company in protest. But they were prevented from going public with their worries by the threat of being sued for everything they owned.”
My heart sank. “I thought Abarria was a good company,” I said.
“No company is, not once they reach a certain level of corporate interference. The company’s stock went public a couple of years ago. Ever since then, the shareholders have taken the company from a customer-based business to one where money talks. We’ve watched as safety protocols have slid and profits taken over.” Casper sounded relieved, like he’d been holding a secret for a long time and only now was able to breathe freely.
Ray let out a curse. “Damn it, I thought things seemed different the past couple of years.”
“That’s because they have,” Onna said. “Casper and I know that firsthand. While our wages haven’t been slashed, all raises were frozen a year ago. And the quality of materials we get in here—including food—has definitely slid.”
“So, how does this play into the game not being fixed?” Thornhold asked.
Casper sighed. “Just that…when they refused to do a system-wide check, and only verified that the main software hadn’t been compromised, we started to see glitches. I talked to a couple of the devs who run the side quests, and they said that there were points that they knew for a fact were affected, but that corporate refused to check on. And once they determined that the main programs were still working, they refused to beef up security. The hardware itself that runs this world was damaged, but corporate said it was minor and didn’t need an overhaul.”
Reggie groaned. “And so when it was hit again, and harder, it made the damage far more invasive?”
“Exactly,” Casper said. “It’s been damaged so badly that I’m thinking we’re stranded. And I’ll tell you something else. I wouldn’t be surprised if they just told people that it was a catastrophic failure and that we’re irretrievable.”
That, was something I hadn’t thought of. “You mean they might tell people we’re dead?”
“I doubt if the devs would, but I can see the shareholders trying to cut their losses and run,” he said.
“What about us? What about the game? If they scrap the company and turn off the machines, what happens to us?” Brynn asked, her voice tight.
“That’s a question I can’t answer. Neither could any of the devs. We discussed the possibility before, and there is still no answer. This world is generated by machines, yes, but Onna believes that it goes beyond those boundaries.” Casper motioned to his wife.
Onna wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ve always been psychic, to a degree. I knew we were supposed to work here when we first heard about it—I knew that it was important for us to move across the continent and leave our old lives behind. And when we first began working in the game, I started to notice something—the game felt wider, bigger than a bunch of pixels on a screen. It grew beyond the scope of the machines that ran it.”
“You’re saying this world took on a life of its own?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m positive that it now exists on its own. That when you come into the game, you’ve moved into a new reality, a parallel dimension. It’s no longer coding that allows the users to interact. It’s moved into a different space. So, if I’m right and they turned off the machines, this place would continue to exist—and so will we.”
I hadn’t expected to be digesting a metaphysical discussion with my meal, but in many ways, what Onna said comforted me. We ate silently, thinking over her supposition.
“Then, if we do end up stuck here, we’ll live out our lives in the world of Abarria,” Thornhold said. “Which means, for Erenye, a long, long life.”
I shot him a puzzled look.
“You’re an Elf. You’ll live far longer than most humans.”
Again, a thought that had escaped me. I shivered, wondering if I’d be here a thousand years from now, wandering the backwoods. If so, would I even remember my life outside the walls of this world? Would I remember my friends, who would most likely be long gone?
“I don’t want to dwell on the future,” I said. “It’s best we take this day by day for now. We’ll have to begin planning if this goes on too long, but for now, let’s just focus on getting through the Dark Woodland. My first goal is to get this damned key off my neck.”
“Do you know anything about it?” Brynn asked Casper. “Liesel helped as much as she could, but all we know is that it leads to the interdimensional prison holding Devastey, the Queen of Dark Magic. And Zaran, a Level 15 Necromancer, kept it for safekeeping, till he could break her out. We have to meet the Summer Queen, and then find our way into the prison so we can destroy Devastey, all before Zaran finds us.”
