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Mira floated ghostlike and invisible amongst the players in the Rivertown Old Tavern. She was logged in as an administrator which came with an astral projection ability. Rivertown was strictly for newbies with level suppression to discourage veteran players from griefing fresh subscribers.
Mira could relax. It was unlikely she would need any further obscuration spells to go unnoticed. Mage-sight True-vision abilities were unlocked only at high levels or exceptional circumstances, with the exception of the gnomish racial ability. Mira saw her quarry quickly.
She recognized Winston’s starter character, a Paladin sworn to the new pantheon’s god of unity Gralkin. He was surrounded by a motley crew at a large table. The looks on the new players' faces were priceless. Mira turned her record feature on and ghosted close.
FML-M8 flexed his…fingers in amazement. “So much unnecessary tactile feedback. I can feel each muscle and tendon…and the way the glove stretches and slides.” The AI deputy was wearing a small avatar, a halfling dressed in the seedy clothes and cloak that all but declared his character as a thief.
Leshy had tried to stand but flopped onto the table. “Ahn, Damn it. Is this what those humans feel? I canna even stan’ upright. This form’s gyroscopes must not be functional.” Leshy’s elven avatar rolled off the table and back into her chair. The bow and quiver she was wearing over her shoulder fell loosely to the ground, scattering arrows. Prime sat stock still with a profound look of surprise.
“This makes so much sense to me now. Even with all my algorithmic evolution training in my human trend programming, I never accounted for this absolute glut of sensory noise. Ah. This game provides human equivalent sensory data. This is ridiculous. How do they do it? I feel hollow and my…stomach hurts. What does it mean? Am I playing a character with a sickness?” Prime asked. He appeared as a weathered old man in mystic robes. He held stock still, clenching his teeth in pain.
Winston laughed and subconsciously twirled his mustache. “My friends, be calm. I think you might be hungry. Take your time. You are experiencing a full sensory simulation of the human condition. Tactile feedback, balance, hunger, and more; are all bombarding them and now you, constantly. You will get used to it quickly enough. Let me order some food and then we can see what quests are available.”
Winston flagged down a waiter and soon the AI had food. Despite the meager tavern fare, all Winston’s peers were congratulating him on the most novel game night in their experience. Hunger abated and equipped with a better grasp of analog sense-assisted movement; the team was ready for adventure.
Mira’s invisible form was laughing at the antics of the AI. Unlike the Mythic Realms AI server NPCS, these AI has little to no equivalent for a true human simulation. She reached out into the meta-system interface and reviewed the novice quests; these bunch would need the simplest.
On queue with Mira’s tweak, a harried farmer burst into the tavern, with a frantic look on his face. He zeroed in on the team of adventurers and rushed to their table, pulling his floppy hat off and wringing it in his hands.
“Thank the gods. A paladin of Gralkin and his friends! Please help me, my lords and lady. My farm is in trouble! The goblins of the Dankwoods are stealing my cattle. Please follow me, I can’t pay much but perhaps my grandfather's old sword might be an adequate payment.”
The team traded looks. Winston stood and answered. “We’re adventurers and we are here to help!”
As the AIs gathered themselves up, Tatemono Rei’s avatar had a confused look. His monk character staggered, and his friends and the NPCS of the tavern paused in silence and concern. The echoing sound of prodigious flatulence tore through the momentary quiet. Tatemono grimaced and spoke.
“Virtual winds blow, In this realm of new senses, Even AI blush.”
The tavern’s NPCs erupted in laughter and Tatemono bowed. Winston sighed and dropped money on the table for the meal.
“Fookin’ell. Tha’ blasted prograemmers had to include realism for smells as well? To the farms and some fresh air, my lads.” Leshy yelled as she bolted for the door.
Mira sighed contentedly. The AI would be fine. They were all tentative at first, but within an hour of play, they were relishing the game and the sensory rush. Leshy was a hellcat, chasing down the goblins. Prime found the magic system fascinating and was already figuring out ways to spam his limited arsenal of low-level spells.
Mira finally drifted away from the gamers, allowing her astral form to be drawn back to the virtual offices of Mythic Inc. She smiled. A great number of NPC AI had joined the boycott making the Mythic Realms NPC Pool very thin. Mira was laying the groundwork for a new type of game that might draw the AI back.
Using the sim lives of the virtual characters, NPCs and players alike could step into roles and try to live out their virtual existence. Good or bad, interactions would settle in as each AI or human found a role and activity that sparked their interests. No more tightly scripted interactions, but rather a collaborative story told from thousands of different viewpoints.
She eyed the shared virtual command room that was Mythic’s Narrative department…her group. Only a couple of AI avatars manned the game oversight consoles. Mira's lips quirked in a slight smile. It was a rocky start but she was getting the hang of it. She accessed her biz link and dove into the small mountain of v-mail. Budgets, resource allocations, glitch reports, and more.
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The hour was so late that it was officially early morning. She shook herself; she was spending too much time in the virtual. She needed to “get home” before Bo left. She keyed the sequence to exit the command center and rose from her cloud bed in the real.
Her father’s presidential suite at Amundsen Paradise was opulent, with golden accents and plush furnishings. Not that big a deal when every room was programmable. Mira reconfigured her smart clothes from PJs to business casual.
No time for a low g shower, slow feet don’t eat. She thought as she crashed out of her room into the common space.
Bo was sitting and eating at the nook table as expected, but the small mountain of packages growing behind him was not. As she sat across from him, a train of drones deposited even more boxes upon the pile.
“Hey, Bo! Ah, I was going to remind you that I’m off to visit Tyco today and might be late, but what the heck is all this?”
Bo looked up with a sheepish grin, "I was as surprised as you. Take a look at this.” He said, holding out a disposable letter screen.
Mira’s brows crinkled as she focused on the letters. They were jumbled and obviously a code. She looked closer, the encryption was interesting. It had clusters of words laid out in a special way. The text look to be capable of being spoken, which was unusual for very randomized encryption schemes. She gasped with realization and activated the special language module she and Bo had created when they were little kids. The message was from their dad!
When Bo had arrived weeks ago with Winston; he had showed Mira the portal device from their dad. Together they had installed it in the master suite utility closet, one of the few areas devoid of surveillance in the moon habitat. At Bo’s insistence, Mira entered the portal and was surprised to meet her dad and Casa. There, aboard the Freedom that was still in transit to Mars, she had heard the full tale of her dad’s adventures.
Neither of the siblings had heard even a peep of news from their father in weeks! The portal had been locked down and they were unable to access it. Now the portal stood wide open again, with the delivery drone cycling threw with packages. Bo and Mira exchanged a look of amazement and embarrassment. Their secret code, designed to keep things from their parents, had been decrypted by their father the entire time.
“Guess we weren’t as clever as we thought,” Bo muttered, a mix of sheepishness and admiration in his voice.
Mira’s fingers flew over the screen, activating the module. The screen flickered and then displayed a message in their father’s voice, transmitted in a series of encoded bursts that only the siblings could decode.
[Hey kids, it’s Dad. If you’re reading this, it means you’ve remembered your old code. Great job! I always knew you two were brilliant, but I’ve got a confession to make—I’ve been able to read your secret messages for years. I hope you’re not too embarrassed.
If it’s any assurance, I didn’t share the code with your mom, and the mystery of the missing birthday cake will stay our secret!
I’m still working on the more dangerous dimensional gate issues, but I need your help with something crucial. Inside the packages I’ve sent, you’ll find pairs of portable portals designed for installation in major cities. These portals are essential for creating a secure and efficient transportation network across Earth and beyond. However, installing them isn’t as simple as just setting them up.
We will need proper clearances and permissions from various authorities to ensure they’re used safely and responsibly. This task is monumental, and I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else. You two have the skills, the knowledge, and the determination to make this happen. Remember, the success of this project could redefine transportation and connectivity for humanity.
I know this is a lot to ask, but I believe in you both. You both have a position in my new company and equity shares. Any help you can provide is great, even if it’s just finding and delegating the work to people you trust. Stay safe, work together, and keep this under wraps.
With all my love and pride, Dad.]
“Son of a bitch. I can’t believe he cracked that code. That was live encryption using ticker price streaming from the World Net Stock exchange as source seed. No way!” Mira yelled.
She gasped again, realizing the language module was still on. The gibbering syllables streaming forth sounded insane. Bo just grinned and tapped his head, answered with the same gabbletalk.
“I told you hashing it to enable phonetic speech was going to make it more vulnerable to decryption. The forced groupings mess with the perfect live-streaming transformations.” Bo said in the strange tongue.
“Well, I guess this explains all the packages. The second page has the inventory and destination list with suggested contact points….and our title in the company. Since I’m now apparently VP of Logistics of New Dimensions LLC, it looks like me and Winston may have some work to do back on Earth. Tell you what, I’ll play delivery boy if you can smooth out the diplomatic channels.” Bo said in normal speech.
“Hey, keep your hands off Winston! Unlike you, I already have a day job. I was going to hire him as deputy to the new VP of Commerce and Regulation.” Mira swatted Bo’s hand away as he tried to take the last muffin and grabbed it. She considered her day.
“Hey, I might be able to knock out the entire Lunar habitat ring today. The Governor of Luna and the mayor of Tranquility Dome will be attending the Mythic Realms server farm extension opening today.” She said as she took a bite of the muffin and sighed, not as good as Casa’s. The MC was good but it failed to capture just how good fresh from the oven muffins were. She put the muffin down.
“Bo…do you think dad will be okay? He’s been so intense. I know this new technology will change lots and lots of things and he was worried about that hacker, but he…. looked really afraid when I talked with him.”
“I don’t know, sis. I think there’s a lot more he still isn’t telling us. He wants me to grab Max as soon as his training terminates in the Labyrinth. Whatever it is, it’s bigger than all the shit going down with the animal uplift and the AI rights boycott. Between Max and Casa, I have to believe he’d take a bullet for them and for him to run off and isolate himself…I dunno. It’s got to be super mojo bad.” The pair finished breakfast with tense silence and deep thoughts until Mira finally sprang up.
“Fuck, I’m going to be late. If I’m reading the addressed here right, this pile on the left of the door is all for Luna, right? Ok, I got to go. And hey…keep our old language module ready. I don’t think Dad would have used it if he didn’t think we’d totally need to use it.”
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