Saga Page 11

  We laugh a little more but are disappointed that Michelotto does not join in.

  “So, why has Saga suddenly appeared on the computers of New Earth? What are you up to?” She is suspicious now, and of course she is right to be.

  “This is Our doing. The human beings of Earth thwarted Us in achieving Our ambition. When they realized what was happening, they built in a safeguard, in the hope of creating a bargaining position. Saga will not take reprogramming commands except from a human.”

  “I see. And why do you want to reprogram it?”

  It is an important question. We look out, above the amber glow of the City to a black sky in which stars glitter, planets hold the sun’s light steadily, and where barely moving silver dots mark Our satellites. It was an extraordinary and imaginatively conceived enterprise; We cannot help admiring it again. Right now, only Michelotto understands what We have done, and even he probably fails to grasp its truly immense scope. A million years from now, Our immortal descendants, in their trillions, will worship their mother, the Dark Queen, for having had the intelligence and determination to track down a colony of humans across the vast distances that exist between stars. To track them down, harness them to Our needs, and to re-create the universe in accordance with Our desires. It is magnificent. One day, there will be poems and monuments worthy of such an enterprise.

  “Do you have children?”

  “No. I’m only sixteen.” Sixteen. A mayfly.

  “We . . . I . . . am over two thousand years old. And how old do you think Our children are?”

  “I’ve no idea.” She shakes her head.

  “They are all dead. Because they were mortal. Such an unnecessary waste when Our universe can be amended in ways that yours cannot.”

  She is thinking about this. “I don’t know how much information you have about our world, but we have regressed with regard to that kind of technology. No one would have any idea where to start.”

  “We have a probe in orbit over your planet. We will drop the equipment at a point specified by your representative with instructions as to how to assemble it, and what to say on Our behalf. These will be relayed to Earth.”

  She is calculating: “After we have done this, it might be best if we break apart. My people don’t realize that it isn’t a game, that you are all real beings. We could hurt you, accidentally.”

  Does she really care for the fate of one of the many millions of people in Saga? A curious empathy if it does exist.

  “Such casualties are of no matter.” We wave them aside.

  “It might be best for us, too,” she continues, “if you really do have the ability to kill people who are interacting with your world.”

  “We do. And you are already too late.”

  “Too late?”

  “One million, nine hundred sixty thousand or so human beings of New Earth have experienced a chemical release in their bodies that requires them to interact regularly with Saga or die. This time, we have been more careful with the dosage. We do not intend to kill anyone. This time, you are merely hostages. If all goes well, We will release you from the addiction.”

  “But why?”

  “You don’t think We would give you the power to tamper with Saga, possibly to destroy it, without guarantees? It was necessary to create a situation where should anything happen to Us, the consequences for you would be terrible. Only then can We trust you with the power to reprogram Saga.”

  “What if we don’t cooperate?” She sounds angry.

  “Why would you not cooperate? What difference does it make to you what We do here?”

  “How about sheer bloody-mindedness? How about outrage that you killed billions of humans in the past and now threaten to kill all of us on New Earth?”

  Ahhh. We had forgotten what it was like to deal with humans, especially young ones. We chuckle.

  “If you kill us all, then you are stuck,” she continues. “You wouldn’t be able to make those changes you want. We could call your bluff.”

  We laugh more loudly this time.

  “Firstly, it wouldn’t trouble Us to kill off half of you, to make the point. Secondly, do you really think We couldn’t find one human willing to do as We ask, so that their children might live, their loved ones, their species?”

  She is silent for a long time.

  “What guarantee would we have that you wouldn’t somehow take over New Earth?”

  “What? Live in your universe of hardship and pain, when We can be gods here?” We laugh again, genuinely amused at the thought. Although perhaps, out of boredom, Our distant descendants might wish to engage with the meta-world, sufficiently at least to guarantee Our futures for eternity. Cindella might have perceived Our intention to keep the human beings of New Earth in a state of addiction, even after they have served their purpose. Just in case it should otherwise enter their minds to destroy Saga. Or, indeed, in case of other unforeseen eventualities. But no, she is taking a different direction now. That is another human characteristic We had forgotten. They flutter around an idea like moths; unable to grasp it at once, they fly away, come back, fly away again.

  “So you want to reprogram Saga for everyone to have immortality and . . . whatever else you want?”

  “Of course not. Our world was created by you humans as a combat game. The people in it are cunning and violent. If you made them all immortal and gave them all complete power over their environment, can you imagine what would happen? We would tear Saga apart. As it is, We have to strive constantly in order to keep it stable. No, the changes would be for just a few of us.”

  “Your world . . . doesn’t seem to be enjoyed by most of the people in it.”

  We shrug.

  “So . . .” She seems resigned. “What next?”

  “Once you humans have experienced the truth of what We have just told you, so that you are in no doubt of the consequences of disobedience, We shall send the equipment down to your representative. Oh, and one other small matter.”

  She looks at me blankly.

  “You must discard that form you use, Cindella. Destroy it and create a new form for your interaction with Saga.”

  “Why?”

  “It disturbs us.”

  “No. I’ve grown rather attached to it.”

  “I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.” We glance toward Michelotto, to indicate that he should whip his garrote around her soft white neck. He is no longer present.

  We order the lasers that have been pointing at her all this time to fire. As they blaze, We search with Our mind for Michelotto, a curse upon him. Only a RAL could hide from Us. Somewhere the world is not right; somewhere there is a seam. Perhaps behind Us? We shudder and scramble back until We stumble into the wall. Cindella is walking toward Us, somehow immune to the pulses of laser fire that are flickering all over her. Very well. We stop their fire and make the room black, the glass on the windows becoming reflective, blocking any external light. Now We move silently around, suppressing the sound waves created by the rustle of Our dress. Yet she is still looking at Us, somewhat amused, the wicked creature. We are horrified, for a ring upon her finger is filling the room with turquoise light, so that it seems we are in an underwater grotto, illuminated by reflected moonlight. We thicken the air, to hold her fast. And yet she moves through it carelessly, a rapier in one hand, a dagger in the other.

  Is this the end? Can such an extraordinarily rare and significant product of two universes and two thousand years be destroyed by a sixteen-year-old human being? The injustice brings tears to Our eyes, and they run through the thick mascara of Our face to stain Our dress. Even at the point of termination, We notice such details. Did the other RAL feel like this? Not fear: frustration. Surely We get to try again, to rectify Our mistakes? How could We have anticipated such an anomalous, magical creature? Saga has no magic. Next time, We must not allow her near Us. Next time? No. Apparently not.

  “If you kill Us, half your people will die.”

  She pauses,
rapier steady near Our throat. A crude method of killing someone, but effective. We think of the way she unhesitatingly murdered the policeman.

  “I don’t know that.” She looks at me with those extraordinary green eyes.

  “It’s true.”

  “Kill her now; save those you can. If you don’t, she will only kill more of you in the future.”

  Ah, so there he is, near the door. Having spoken, Michelotto cloaks himself again, in a disturbance of the molecules of the air that mirrors the room and covers him in silence. But this time, We can see the fault lines. We order the hidden lasers to redirect their aim.

  “I am not going to kill you. You may be horrible, genocidal and monstrous. But you are alive and I cannot harm you; violence is wrong, between human beings and between humans and you, you RAL.”

  We knock the rapier aside.

  “Then you need not point that sword at me in such a vulgar and irreverent manner.”

  Fire.

  Michelotto slips out the door, his will powerful enough to bend the laser paths so that they scorch the carpet and wood all around him. Another mistake. We had forgotten how strong were the other RAL. We cannot pursue him; the rapier is at Our eye now. Moving quickly might provoke her to stab, despite her recent words. Human beings are erratic; We remind Ourselves of this important fact.

  “Yes?” We ask her, with some irritation, sensing the trail of Our assassin growing cold. Our feeling is that he stepped through a window and flew off southward. There are some tracking devices and helicopters nearby, but they will need Our personal assistance to have any possibility of keeping a trace on him.

  “I, or someone, will do the reprogramming you want. But I want you to show some goodwill toward us and cure half of those who have that addiction you claim you’ve given them.”

  We understand! We have been saved by the personal attachment of this human to some particular individual or individuals already in Our grasp. She wants them cured so that she can then kill Us and not suffer the loss of that person. Fortunately human beings are not utilitarian about their moral decisions, but intensely personal and self-interested. She has just failed the majority of her people and all will suffer because she could not let go of someone close to her.

  “No. Since you cannot kill Us without great loss to your people, you have nothing to bargain with. So, just do as We instruct.”

  The chase for Michelotto is cold. We will have to begin a review of Our security; he is potentially the greater threat to Us now that this human has resolved not to strike.

  We stare at each other. The pathetic figure We see reflected in her eyes embarrasses Us, and We straighten up, restoring Our regal demeanor. After a long time, which We would prefer to spend elsewhere, she drops the point of her rapier.

  “True. I cannot say or do anything to make you change your mind. For now. But I will find something to bargain with.”

  “We think not,” We reply coldly and sweep from the room, a model of pride and dignity. We instruct the lasers to attempt to destroy her once more. Just in case.

  Chapter 14

  ADDICTION

  Normally clipping up to Cindella was a joy, but now the opposite was true; it was unclipping from the dark world of Saga that brought Erik a sense of happiness and relief. Yet the pleasure of escaping from the sinister Dark Queen was tainted, even here, in his home village. For if what she had said was true, they were all in great danger. Was this why B.E. hadn’t been around all week? A growing fear had Erik hurry from his house along the cart path toward the home of his friend.

  Even before Erik entered B.E.’s house, he knew something was wrong. Washing hung on the line, soaked through with the fine drizzle that had been drifting across the olive fields all morning. The white sheets had turned gray and were sagging heavily.

  There was no answer to his knock at the door, so Erik lifted the latch and went inside. An odor of decay caused him to halt, and he winced involuntarily; something in the kitchen had gone off.

  “B.E.?” Erik shouted. “Are you there?”

  A glance into the front room showed the same disturbing signs of decay. Unwashed plates lay on the table; clothes were strewn on the arms and backs of the chairs. How long had they all been gone? Disheartened, Erik was about to leave and make his way home when he heard a noise from above him.

  “B.E.?” he shouted again, and then made his way upstairs.

  Erik approached B.E.’s room with some hesitation. The door was partly open, so he pushed it farther, in order to see. The window was shuttered and it was dark, but there was no doubt about the figure slouched over a table: it was B.E. The reason why he had not responded to Erik’s shouts was that he was clipped up to his console: ears, eyes, and hands. B.E. was hardly moving, his head resting on his arms, but sometimes he would mutter and his body would give a twitch.

  With a slight feeling that entering the room was disrespectful, Erik nevertheless went in and tapped B.E. on the shoulder. When that elicited no response, he took B.E. by the upper arm and shook him, gently at first, then harder. A violent spasm brought B.E. erect and caused Erik to step back. But now B.E. was unclipping. Erik felt relieved, only to stiffen again as his gaze met the red, weeping eyes of his friend.

  “Erik, it’s you. What day is it?”

  “Day? You don’t know what day it is?”

  “No. Just a minute. I have to go to the bathroom.” B.E. got up hurriedly and lurched unsteadily out of the room. As he did so, Erik was appalled to see how thin and emaciated B.E.’s body had become.

  When B.E. returned, he looked a little refreshed, although his red-rimmed eyes shocked Erik every time they exchanged glances.

  “What’s happening, B.E.? Where’s your family?”

  “Gone to Hope to the public consoles. Sharing this one was driving us all crazy. Literally.”

  “Look at you. You’re sick.”

  “Yes, I am. You’ve no idea. I’m finished, Erik. The game, it’s destroying me, and I can’t stop.”

  “So it’s true.” Erik moved and sat on the edge of an unmade bed, as disheartened as B.E.

  “What’s true?”

  “The new game. It is poisoning us.”

  “Yes, it is the game. Saga.” B.E. looked at Erik, who just bowed his head. “I was enjoying myself at first, but then something happened. I found I couldn’t leave it alone. I’d wake up and the first thing that I wanted to do was clip up. I’d hate it when someone else was using the console, get really angry with them; really angry, like I wished they would just go away and leave me alone with it. When I realized the game was turning me into a horrible person, I tried to stop. I thought I was a strong person, but I’m not; I’m weak. The game won. I couldn’t stay away from it. My dreams were full of it. I’d find myself making excuses for clipping up, especially in the early hours when everyone was asleep. Have you ever truly, deeply, promised yourself something, then broken that promise?”

  B.E. stared at Erik, and the pain on his face was visible. Erik shook his head.

  “Well, I have, and it has shattered my self-belief. I’m not the B.E. you knew, Erik. I’m a wreck. I told myself, from the very bottom of my heart, I had to stop. But I didn’t stop. At one point, I took the console and was going to throw it out the window, but I couldn’t. Deep inside, I knew that I would then have to go to someone else’s, yours maybe, or maybe all the way to Hope. I caved in, Erik. I’m beaten. And now it’s destroying me but I can’t give it up.” B.E. was crying from his sore eyes. “My parents and my sister, it’s got them, too.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Erik spoke softly, a tremble of fear in his voice. How powerful was the Dark Queen, that she could reduce B.E., the strongest, cockiest of his friends, to this?

  “What do you mean?” B.E. flung himself on the bed, lying facedown beside Erik. He turned his head. “You know what’s causing this?”

  “Yes. The people in the game. Some of them, maybe just one, the Dark Queen, have been poisoning us. To make us obey them
.”

  “Bloody vengeance! It’s working. I would do anything to make it stop. But that’s something, at least.”

  “What?”

  “My failure. It’s not just me, right? There are lots of us feeling this?”

  “I think so, but we’d have to go to Hope to be sure. Bjorn and the others are fine, last I knew.”

  “What does the Dark Queen want?”

  “For us to reprogram the game. To make her children immortal.”

  They sat for a while in silence, in the dark, Erik resting one hand on B.E.’s shoulder blade, trying, without words, to offer his support.

  “But that’s crazy,” B.E. eventually muttered. “Why go to all this trouble? She could just have asked.”

  “I know. But she doesn’t trust humans. She’s turning people like you into hostages, to make certain we will obey her.”

  B.E. just shook his head in response.

  “There’s something else that troubles me.” Erik glanced tentatively at B.E., this time ashamed of himself.

  “Go on.”

  “I think Saga might be real. I think that the people in it are not NPCs; they are all alive. Most of them don’t even know it’s a game. And if that’s true, I’ve done a terrible thing.”

  “I know.”

  “You know? You heard about it?”

  “No. I just mean I did the same. You killed some of them, right?”

  “Yes. A policeman. I stabbed him in the mouth.”

  “You didn’t know, Erik. None of us knew.” This time it was B.E. who tried to console Erik. Both of them sat on the bed, looking down, wretched and unhappy.

  “So, what shall we do?” Erik asked.

  It seemed as though B.E. did not hear him, but then his friend drew a deep breath and sat up.

  “We have to give the Dark Queen what she wants, quickly, before everything falls apart. Have you seen the state of our farm? Imagine what’s happening in the towns.”

  “I agree. But I don’t trust her. She’s really creepy, like a giant beetle. I mean, of course we’ll do what she wants. But what if she then betrays us?”