The city had been given many names over the millennia, but now it was simply referred to as Capital City.

Some said the world it existed on was at the centre of the multiverse. Others said that it was on the edge of it, and still others that it was outside it altogether. Its paradox was that it existed both outside the system and yet was essential to the system, or at least to the billions who lived and died within the rules of the system on the thousand worlds that it ran on.

Juliet, Administrator 551, hurried along the promenade where the cafes and bars were in full flow as the residents of Capital City prepared for a weekend of revelry. Much of this involved either forgetting the events occurring in the multiverse or discussing them in great detail. Aside from its auxiliary functions, Capital City’s main purpose was to ensure the smooth running of the system at all times. The interface had been created by the founders so many millennia ago that they were the stuff of myth and legend, and it was the founders who had established the basic rules that all of those in Capital City lived by.

Admins may not change the system. Admins may not interfere. Admins may not advise.

Juliet had no interest in joining the masses as they prepared for their weekend of debauchery. Instead, she used the crowds as cover, ducking in and out of them, entering a cafe through one entrance and leaving by another, walking into the subway system that threaded beneath Capital City and exiting on the opposite side.

She cast careful glances behind her to check that she wasn’t being followed. Beneath all the revelry, there was always an underlying tension. The secret police, who maintained order and ensured that none of the rules of the founders were broken, were everywhere. Juliet doubted she was on any watch-list, or at least she hoped she wasn’t.

The stories she’d heard about the secret police’s brutality, their inflexible adherence to the rules and their willingness to pay informants meant few could be trusted. Even the slightest hint of dissent could be a reason for a midnight visit from the security services, which would often lead to a suddenly vacant apartment, with all traces of the former occupant removed and all mention of them tacitly forbidden.

She knew the risks, but she took them anyway.

After two hours of such evasion methods, once she was sure she wasn’t being followed, Juliet walked with more intent into the seedier side of the city, using a few alleyways as a final assurance that she wasn’t being surveilled.

Once she had reached Cheapside, she made her way to a spit and sawdust bar frequented by the less desirables of Capital City. She ordered a red wine from the owner who was tending the drinks of the locals and into a backroom that had was checked for listening devices on a daily basis.

There was only one wooden table and six worn chairs in the backroom, and only one occupant. An elderly gentleman, a former administrator, now living in secluded retirement. Juliet nodded at him, saying nothing, least of all the other man’s name. He nodded back as the music in the adjoining bar was turned up several notches. Their conversation was hushed as they drank. Juliet outlined the events and her actions in the last two days. Information that was privileged and should not be communicated to anyone, no matter how long they had served as an administrator.

The older man listened.

“That was a big risk,” he said. “If they look into it, you’ll be reprimanded at the very least.”

“It was the only opportunity I was afforded,” Juliet replied.

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The man shook his head sadly. “Not much. I’d been hoping for much more from a new reality being initiated.”

“Perhaps the others subverted something,” Juliet replied, indicating the four other empty chairs.

“Perhaps,” the old man sighed, his eyes flickering at the word ‘subvert’.

It was one of the most dangerous words in Capital City. The suggestion that anyone might attempt to subvert the system in any way was a criminal offence that would certainly bring the authorities to the offender’s front door.

“If not, then that’s all we’ve got,” the old man said, “A bloody Gary.”

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice,” Juliet agreed.

“And you removed the second consciousness? If that gets discovered, you’ll be in trouble.”

“I had to do something,” Juliet said. “If Gary had continued to level up, his undead conciousness would have overwhelmed him and we’d be no better off than we were before.”

The old man took a sip of his beer. “Well, as you say, perhaps one of the others found something that could be useful. In the meantime, it looks like Gary is the only hope we’ve got of bringing an end to this madness. A bloody Gary, and the fate of the multiverse in his hands…”

They sat in silence, nursing their drinks and waiting for the others to arrive.

*

ALERT. SYSTEM ERROR.

ALERT. SYSTEM ERROR.

Parameter conflict: Untethered Consciousness.

Alerting System Admin.

System Admin Alerted. System Admin (Admin number: 776) assessing.

Assessment made. Parameter conflict resolved.

Restoring a body to consciousness.

Restoring body to consciousness’s point of Origin (St Mary’s Church Cemetary)

You are undead.

Name: Yarg

Class: Human Undead

Type: Basic Zombie

Level: 1

Experience: 0/1000

Hit Points: 25/25

Recovery: 1 HP/10 minutes

Attacks:

Claw +10% 1-3 Infectious chance 35%

Bite +20% 3-6 Infectious chance 75%

Special Weapon: Shovel 4-6 damage

25% Chance to Stun.

Defence:

Immunity to poison. Immunity to drowning. Immunity to radiation. Immunity to Diseases. Immunity to infection.

Special:

Regeneration.

Regain 3-6 HP for eating the living.

Regain 2-4 HP for eating the recently deceased.

Special:

Advanced Sapience.

Goal: Eat the living. Level Up.

Yarg climbed out of the grave with a grin and looked about him.

“Well, that’s a lot better. Time to have some fun. And some snacks...”

He spied St Mary’s church. If memory served correctly, there was a zombie sorceress in there, tied up and forgotten. That would come in handy.

“Gary? Gary, is that you? Oh thank god we found you…”

Yarg looked up to see a couple, who he recognised as having left the church before anyone else had.

“We tried to get out of here, but it’s a nightmare. We’ve been hiding for two days in a shop. You were right, Gary, you were absolutely right. We all needed to listen to you. We came back on the chance you might still be here. Please help us…”

Yarg grinned at the couple. “Sure. Just one problem. I’m not Gary…”

Five minutes, two hundred experience points and a full stomach later, Yarg stepped into St Mary’s Church. He knelt down by the wriggling body of the undead sorceress and untied her.

“Hey, baby,” he said as Delphine got up, “Want to get a bite to eat and maybe blow this world? Sure you do. Just stick with me, honey. I’ll take good care of you…”

*

Gary reached the edge of Oxford a couple of hours after leaving Hope Farm. He stopped to gaze down on the familiar skyline, with the various college towers breaking up into the night sky. A couple of fires were burning here and there in the city. Even at this distance, Gary could feel that there were still living survivors down there somewhere.

But what caught his eye was the tower rising above the regular spires of Oxford, half again as tall as the Magdalen College tower. A tower that hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited the city. Flapping around the top of the tower were shapes far larger than any bird Gary had ever seen.

“Huh,” he said, “That’s new…”

He got back into the Land Rover, four undead minions in the back and Simon by his side, and drove towards the war.

END BOOK ONE