The noise of the slot machines mixed with laughter and the cheers of a few winners could be heard all the way up on deck. Nico was leaning against the railing. Beneath the hull, the code ran smoothly and eerily.
“It seems you don't know what I'm talking about,” Nico said irritably. “It's automatic. Forty-eight hours of internal stay. Twelve hours of bodily connection. Then the system kicks us out with a countdown. It always happens.”
Peter seemed amused. His eyes sparkled, feverish with excitement.
“What if the system doesn't find us?” Nico continued agitatedly. “You brought us here. Now explain to me how we get out.” He stepped away from the railing. “What if the game doesn't hook us? What if it cancels the process, considering us offline, and we get stuck?”
He took a step toward Peter. “You could have told us. You could have let us choose.”
Peter shrugged. “I was doing something useful.” His mouth twisted into an ironic grimace. “I honestly don't know how the character login and logout thing works, I told you. My job is to prevent characters from creating and using cheats.”
He paused briefly, then continued, as if it were obvious. “And how was I supposed to know that you and your friends had to sprain your ankles right now? You could have told me, couldn't you?”
Peter laughed. Nico clenched his jaw.
“And anyway,” he added, “you become difficult to deal with when you're under pressure.”
Nico assessed the distance between them, closing it by half a step, his fist clenched, too eager to hit him.
Peter laughed, taking a few steps back and bringing his hands up in front of his body in a sign of surrender. “Anyway,” Peter continued, “there are possibilities.”
“First hypothesis: incomplete logout,” he said, pacing up and down the bridge.
“What does that mean?” asked Nico.
“The session closes, but remains half open. You stay in, but not completely.”
Nico swallowed. “And what does that entail?”
Peter burst out laughing.
“Well, I guess you'll be like ghosts in the game.” He made a vague gesture with his hand, as if to brush something away in the air.
“Present, yes, maybe even visible... but not entirely here.” Peter glanced at Nico, a crooked smile on his face. “I wonder if you'll be able to touch objects, interact with the space around you, or if the rest of us will be able to see you.” He shrugged. “I guess we'll find out.”
Nico turned to Peter suddenly. His eyes widened and his stomach knotted.
“So we risk being stuck here forever?”
Peter shrugged. “Eh, I don't know.” He took a dramatic second, pretending to be pensive. “Maybe yes. Maybe no.” He laughed. “It might be enough to get off the ship: the system finds you online, your accounts realign, and it sends you straight back into your bodies with the visor on your head.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
He shrugged again. “But that's just a hypothesis. For now.”
Nico frowned, suddenly suspicious. Then he let out a dry, nervous laugh.
“You're joking, right?” he said. “You like to talk a lot of nonsense. I mean... you're someone who likes to make up stories.” He shook his head, laughing jerkily. “Right? You're joking.”
Peter replied with a crooked smile, an amused look in his eyes.
“Or,” said Peter, “Or, this is the most optimistic of my expectations: the system sends the signal, searches for the ID,” he pointed into the darkness beyond the ship, “and finds nothing.”
Nico frowned. “And then?”
“Wait.” A half-smile. “Like an unanswered call, and when you get off the ship, the signal will hook you and you'll POOF, disappear back into your bodies.”
Nico nodded to himself. “Okay, better warn the others. Whatever happens to us, it's better to be together and prepared.”
When Nico, accompanied by Peter, returned to the hall, he was once again overwhelmed by the ringing sounds, the chaos of shouts and festive laughter, the music, and that strange, pungent, sweetish smell that had perhaps been the cause of his previous dizziness.
The room was hot, perhaps even hotter than before, and he thought it was due to the use of all the slot machines, which were all occupied and puffing steam toward the pipes that vented outside the ship. The steam, the noise, the smell: everything seemed to repeat itself in the same order, with the same intensity.
Nico scanned the room to look for his friends. He saw players arguing at a craps table. One showed the result on the table. He said it was a win before. Now he was losing everything. The dealer did not respond. The game resumed without explanation.
Further on, there was an isolated slot machine. A man was sitting there. He didn't speak. He didn't drink. He didn't move. He stared at the machine with his hands on the lever, his eyes languid and the glass where his coins should have been empty. The stillness of that man stuck with him, and he frowned, thinking that perhaps he had seen him before, in the exact same pose. He shook his head, explaining to himself that perhaps gambling losses could leave someone so distraught that they became catatonic, staring at the cause of their own ruin.
A sharp sound rang out across the ship, then the ship suddenly swayed. Several coins clattered as they fell from the tables onto the floor, and someone screamed. A voice announced an emergency in the engine room from the back of the hall. Nico frowned, thinking that it had already happened. The steam increased for a few seconds, while the people in the room began to get agitated and the waiters and waitresses tried to calm the guests. Nico, worried, looked for his friends and caught the eye of Kiah, who was sitting in a corner with a beer in her hands, sipping slowly, and some cards in front of her, face down. Kiah, however, did not seem concerned about what was happening on the ship. The voice said, “All clear,” and everyone returned to their tables as if nothing had happened.
He found Kiah, still at the same table, sipping beer and playing cards. He had to find the others. Nico saw Gareth at the bar, a mug of beer clutched in one hand, his shoulders hunched, his eyes fixed on Nadia, who was talking intently with the same man, perhaps the first officer, dressed in a dark blue suit, impeccable in his slim figure and clean-shaven, sharp face. The scene seemed like the same frame: the looks, the gestures, everything seemed the same, repeated.
Nico continued his search; he had to find Leo. At a card table, a large man with a thick, shaved beard caught Nico's attention with his shouts of joy echoing throughout the room thanks to his nasal, shrill, womanly voice. The big man cheered again, in the same way: arms in the air, squealing a “hurrah” that was too feminine for his size. The other players stared at him, their faces grim; then one cursed the winner loudly, while another jumped up. Chairs fell, one of the players started pushing, and a brief, confused brawl broke out, similar to something Nico had seen before, while the rest of the room continued to play.
At the back of the room, not far from where he had been playing, a slot machine, the same one, sounded, announcing a win; the lever was down, but the coins did not come out. Steam hissed from the pipes above the machine as the player in front of the slot began to shout, pounding his fist on the opaque glass and demanding his winnings. Others approached, protesting or watching curiously; then, from one side of the room, a young man in gold sequined shorts and a bare chest arrived and began to calm people down. Then he took the man by the arm and led him away.
Nico watched the scene, following the two men, and imagined them heading to the currency exchange, as before. Then, along the way, he looked for Leo in his usual spot at the craps table, convinced that he, like everyone else, was stuck in a huge déjà vu, but Leo's seat at the craps table was empty.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]
Log updated: Readers are invited to comment on which of the following hypotheses they consider most likely.
[LOG_A.031] will be released on Thursday ET.
The continuity of the story depends on your increased support.
To keep the narrative flow active, please follow.
Log closed: The system observes.
