We never could have guessed the truth about what has become of the afterlife
simulation since we’ve been gone. For a world where you’re not supposed to
be able to die, it sure is dangerous. Gilbert doesn’t come back with all the
answers, but he has a decent idea what the hell is going on. Details about
Pinocchio remain scarce, as people are evidently afraid to say anything
about him, but the results of his efforts are clear. The worlds have been
thrown into war, built on a foundation of a class system, fueled by real
consequences...and weapons.
“It’s like the zero blade,” Gilbert explains as he’s still trying to catch
his breath. No one is actually breathing in the simulation, or at least they
don’t have to. If it’s possible to become tired, it’s because somebody
deliberately turned that feature on to better resemble base reality.
“What does that do again?” Lowell asks.
“It kills you,” Nerakali answers. “It destroys your code, so you don’t
respawn, or heal, or anything. You’re just...gone.”
“But you said it’s like the zero blade,” I point out. “What does it do?”
“There’s more than one,” Gilbert continues. “Blue, red, orange, yellow.”
“Downgrading weapons,” Pryce realizes. “I made one for every level.”
“Every level?” Gilbert questions. “Even the higher ones?”
“Yes,” Pryce confirms. “There’s even one for resurrection, which will
transmit your consciousness to a new substrate in base reality. From there,
you can pick out some other body.”
“I don’t care about the upgrades. How many of the weapons are there?” I ask.
“You can make more of certain ones,” Pryce explains. “There are only a few
zero blades, though, and only one white staff. I lost it a long time ago,
and I have no idea where the zero blades are. Obviously, Leona had one at
one point, which she got from Boyce.”
“Tell us about the others,” Nerakali orders. “What are we dealing with?”
“The ones you have to worry about are the ice picks, the red axes, the hock
shanks, the yellow hammers, and possibly the green collars. That last one
isn’t all that bad, but some would disagree. The others would be considered
upgrades, and they’re incredibly rare.”
“They’re using them in a war,” Gilbert adds. “If someone gets their hands
one one, they can either use it against their enemies, or threaten them with
it. The people with the worst weapons are the ones with the most power. No
one wants their IDCodes to be shelved, so those with ice picks are
considered elites. They make most of the decisions, delegating to the red
axe wielders as needed, and so on down the hierarchy tree. I got the feeling
when I was out there that a few people have the upgrade tools, but it’s
unclear how powerful those people are. I think they can really only use them
to bargain for personal favors, but they don’t control anything.”
Pryce is shaking his head. “When we started this project, we didn’t
immediately know how the levels would work, or how you would rank up, or
what. But we never wanted war. I wouldn’t have let this happen.”
“When we first showed up,” I begin, “we thought you were the enemy. We
thought things would only get better if we removed you from power. Now I see
how bad things get when you’re not here. Abandoning this place was the
biggest mistake of your life. When you went down this path—shutting me out
of it, manslaughtering Trinity, letting your daughter and Thor go off to
wherever—you chose to assume the responsibility of tens of billions of
people, and you should have respected that. People like you don’t get to
quit; it’s a lifetime appointment. The fact that you’ve had an extremely
long lifetime is no excuse.”
“You’re right,” Pryce says, “which is why I have to be the one to fix this.”
“How?” Lowell asks.
“Ice in the Hole,” Nerakali guesses.
“We can’t do that,” Lowell argues.
“I wasn’t here,” Gilbert reminds us. “What is that?”
“There’s a button,” Pryce starts to go over it again. “I doubt Pinocchio
ever found it, it’s not in my office, and even if he did, he probably
wouldn’t know how to use it. And he would be horrified by the downside. As
the name would suggest, it puts everyone on ice. It shelves every single
IDCode inside the simulation. Every single one,” he reiterates. “It’s like
pressing a great reset button, except that it doesn’t destroy anything. The
simulation itself remains up and running, and once it’s time to
reinstantiate the identities, they’ll all be intact. I created it in case
something like this happened.”
Like a great reset button that doesn’t destroy anything, I repeat in my own
head. It’s a terrible choice, but if it’s the only reasonable solution, then
it will be what we do. We have to end the war, and if we can’t do it through
words, we’ll force it. But we have to try to use our words first. “That is a
last resort,” I protest. “We haven’t even tried to stop it some other way.
Can’t we start by deleting all of the weapons?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Pryce contends. “You can’t find and replace the
weapons. The code is far too complicated for that. It’s designed to be
self-teaching, and adaptive, and it simulates every law of physics that
isn’t specifically counteracted by a programmed rule. In the real world, you
can’t find every weapon, and erase it from reality, so you can’t do it in
the simulation either. We created it that way to curtail our own power.
There is no button, for instance, that turns everyone’s clothes black, even
though it wouldn’t be very hard to program that. Hell, I could set every
server on fire if I wanted to, because I have the privilege of a body, but
it would take a long time, because each one is at least hundreds of miles
from any other. These restrictions are all about preserving life, and
preventing something disastrous. You’re right, Ice in the Hole is a last
resort, but it is perfectly safe for the residents, and we are already at
the point of a last resort.”
“Where is it?” Lowell asks. “I know it’s not murder, but I have experience
with hurting people, so I should be the one to do it.”
“No,” Pryce says. “I’m responsible, I have to push the button. Besides,
you’ve been resurrected. I can’t take that away from you.”
“Why would that take it away from me? Can’t you just re—uhh...re-in—”
“Reinstantiate,” Nerakali helped.
“No, I can’t,” Pryce replies without the full question. “I told you, the
button has a downside. I said it was safe for the residents, but that
doesn’t go for the person who pushes the button. It requires a blood
sacrifice. You can push it all day long, if you want, but nothing will
happen unless you do it with your bare hand.”
“What, does a needle come out of the button as it goes down?” Gilbert
figures.
“Not a needle,” Pryce corrects, “a blade.”
I know where he’s going with this. “A zero blade.”
“Yes.”
“It’s not a blood sacrifice, it’s a code sacrifice.”
“In the end, yes,” Pryce agrees. “The code of your blood is different than
the rest of your avatar. It contains your genetic information, just like it
would in base reality. Once the blade tastes those genes, it will zero out
the person they belong to.”
“You can’t just cut yourself with a regular virtual blade, and pour it on
the button, while you push it with a meter stick, or something?” Nerakali
suggests.
“Sure, you could,” Pryce says with a shrug, “but that doesn’t solve your
problem. Your blood matches your code. You still die, because it knows it’s
your blood. Or rather, it knows it’s my blood, because I’m the one who’s
going to be doing this. And before you think you’ve figured out a loophole,
that won’t work either. You wouldn’t be able to draw someone’s blood, and
store it in a jar while you resurrect them. People who are resurrected are
still connected to the simulation, and it will kill them, even when they’re
on the outside. Plus, the virtual blood has to be fresh. I mean, seconds
fresh. Nothing can resurrect you that fast, except for the white staff, I
guess, but like I said, I don’t know where that is.”
“Why did you design it this way?” Nerakali questions. “This is needlessly
complicated and deadly.”
“Not needlessly,” Pryce maintains. “Quite importantly. It’s not dangerous
for the residents per se, but there is some risk. If the Glisnians detect a
sudden drop in power usage—which is what this act will do—they could
theoretically decide that the experiment is over. That’s what they keep
calling it, an experiment. They don’t see it as a subversion to death for
all the humans in history. As far as they’re concerned, they’re the only
ones who matter, and they’ve already cracked immortality. They let me
continue with my work, because I don’t get in their way, and I don’t use too
much energy in the grand scheme of things. But they will end it if they see
any evidence that I don’t need it any more. The button, and how it works, is
a deterrent. If someone pushes it, someone else has to go up to the real
world, and make sure they don’t shut the whole thing down. Ellie, you have
proven that you can convince people of almost anything. The residents will
rely on you to be their advocate once I’m gone.”
“I am their advocate,” says a voice from beyond the huddle. He looks
familiar, but I can’t place his face. As he approaches, I start to
remember. He’s altered his appearance to be a more attractive version
of himself, but this is the bot who served us what would turn out to be fake
refreshments back when I was trying to convince Glisnia to give me the
simulation. This is Pinocchio? He’s been hiding in plain sight. He has two
goons at his flanks that look mean for no reason but they were programmed to
look that way.
“How did you get in here?” Gilbert demands to know.
Pinocchio chuckles. “IDCloner. Very easy.”
“Is it now?” Lowell asks, oddly interested in having something like that.
He chuckles again. “Well, I suppose not that easy.” He shakes the subject
out of his mouth, and readies it for a new one. “I’ve been listening to your
conversation, most of it, anyway.” He reaches behind his back, and slowly
slides a sword out of a virtual pocket dimension. “Before I kill you, you’re
going to tell me where I can find the Ice in the Hole button.”
“It’s up your ass,” Pryce tells him.
Pinocchio jerks his chin, prompting one of his goons to take Pryce by the
shirt collars, and press him against the wall. “Your mom was there last
night, she would have told me if she had seen it.”
What are these, fifth graders?
“Boys,” Nerakali shouts in a smooth and steady voice. “There is no call for
violence.”
Pinocchio nods, which causes the goon to release Pryce, even though he
wasn’t even facing his master. Yeah, they’re definitely NPCs. “I have no
beef with you. I wasn’t created until after the other Pryce took over the
simulation. I’m only going to kill you, because you’re a threat to my power,
but it’s not personal. Just tell me where the button is. Understand this,
though...now that I know it exists, I’ll find it myself eventually. You can
make it easier, on everybody, but you can’t stop me by keeping this
information to yourself. You do not have the upperhand here. If you don’t
tell me, I’ll still kill you, but not before I kill your friends in front of
you.”
“Wait.” I hope what I plan to say to him is the right call. “Is this what
Leona wanted? When she gave you consciousness and agency, did she want you
to do this?”
Pinocchio smirks knowingly. “A hundred percent. She wanted me to be able to
make my own decisions...and these are my decisions.” He grows cold and
passively angry. “This is my design. Tell me where the button is.” He lifts
his finger, and starts wagging it in front of Gilbert’s face without even
turning to face him. “Gilbert, if you try what I know you’re about to try,
you will be the first to go.”
“I’ve died a thousand times,” Gilbert retorts. “Each time, I knew it could
be the last.” With that, he drops a yellow hammer into his grip from out of
his sleeve, and bashes one of the goons over the head, only to swing it back
immediately, and smash it against the other one. Their clothes turn yellow,
and they disappear. It’s the color of Limited, so they’re still very much
alive, but they’re only allowed in public spaces now, which is pretty normal
for NPCs, but it’s a good short-term solution. Gilbert swings a third time,
and tries to strike Pinocchio, but he’s met by the zero blade. They hold
there for a few seconds, neither one yet strong enough to overtake the
other. “Nerakali...get them to the escape hatch.”
“No!” I scream.
“Come on.” Lowell takes me by the shoulders, and tries to usher me away.
I struggle against his pull. I’ve seen Gilbert across many timelines. I know
how much he’s had to overcome, and it’s all been his own personality and
instincts. He’s changed himself, and improved more than almost anyone I’ve
ever known. You have know idea how hard that is. People who are naturally
good could never understand. He doesn’t deserve this. “No!” I repeat.
Lowell’s too strong for me, I should have asked for an upgrade in here, but
fake physical strength wasn’t really a priority. He pushes me into Pryce’s
arms, who takes it from here. “I’ll help him,” Lowell promises. “Get her
out.”
The last thing I see before we round the corner is Lowell removing a
fireplace poker from against the wall, and heading back towards the
still-struggling Gilbert and Pinocchio.
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