1 Soul Bound
1.2 Taking Control
1.2.3 An Enchanting Original
1.2.3.26 Rat tale
Vazraz District in Sofia, Bulgaria
Jürgen ‘Sand Rat’ Lipszyc
Testing. Is this thing working?
My boss stepped back, a smug look on his face, as I adjusted the tiara he’d placed on my head with his pudgy hands.
“Jürgen, my boy, this is a plum assignment. Straight from the proprietor himself. It could make your career.”
My career? That was a laugh. Vicarious billed itself as “a niche online gaming feed, providing lengthy analysis and background interviews of the people behind the headlines, from a Balkan perspective”. What that really meant was the boss, his secretary who actually did the things the boss was meant to be doing, ‘Shady’ Boiko who covered the online casinos and myself. Everything else, from preparing legal release forms to curating the feed, was done by the office expert system. No doubt I’d eventually get replaced too, but for now Vicarious still valued my ability to sit down in a bar after a tournament with a team of pro gamers, their hands already damaged by repetitive practice, and get them talking about their hopes and fears.
“I don’t play Soul Bound. Why me?”
“You don’t need to play it. All you need to do is find this ‘Kafana’ so you can sit down for a arlife interview with her. It’s vital we show Mr. Spreckels that Vicarious still has what it takes.”
“And it has to be an arlife interview? And I have to wear this particular tiara?”
A bead of sweat trickled down into the neckline of his rumpled suit, so I decided to push it a bit.
“If she’s concerned about her privacy, finding her is going to be costly. Travel expenses, hotels. Bribes.”
“Anything you want, my boy. Our future depends upon it. You can’t say ‘no’.”
I felt hackles rising in alarm. He wanted this too much; something was wrong. The last time I’d had a premonition this strong, it was just before I’d been taken hostage in the Maku Free Zone. I’d been held for two months, and nearly died of dysentery. I should have refused.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
But I was 48 and I owed alimony; I said yes.
A few minutes later, I found myself in an orglife conference set in a copy of our office, being introduced by my boss to a fair skinned man, mid 20s, short curly blonde ringlets and wearing a suit that cost more than I earned in a year.
“Mr Lipszyc, so good of you to accept my little quest.”
He smiled and cocked his head, giving the impression you were in on a joke with him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. He carried on:
“You’re probably wondering about the tiara. It’s the latest model, which you’ll need for Soul Bound, and I’ve already uploaded to it everything that’s publicly known about Kafana. But, more than that, it will let me look out through your eyes. I’m afraid I didn’t make a very good first impression upon her, so she won’t trust me, but she’s been up to some very interesting things, and I’m curious; I want to see her, and I hope you’ll make that possible for me.”
I nodded. Creepy, but not unlikely for a spoiled young trillionaire, who finds companies he didn’t realise he owned like other people find lint in their pockets. Spreckels gestured, and the avatar of a woman walked into the meeting through the window, sunshine briefly outlining her tall figure.
“This is Dr. Vanessa Homright, a data specialist. Vanessa will also be working to locate Kafana. If she wins, I will ensure she gets tenure and her research funded. If you find Kafana first, what would you desire as a bonus? Your own magazine? Perhaps a lump sum negotiated with your ex-wife, so you never have to pay alimony again? I have very good lawyers; I’m sure they could be persuasive.”
I gave the dame a once over. As new as a shiny penny. Her body had muscle tone but little fat, more like a long-distance runner than a model. She wore no makeup but held herself proudly and looked confident despite the strange circumstances. A loner, then; competitive but also straight forwards rather than a back stabber.
I knew the sort. I’d been a war correspondent for more than a decade before the Bad Years shut down travel. Then I’d fallen in love and we’d gotten married. She played first person shooter games professionally, going by the alias “High Shot”, and the conversations we’d had about where games and reality diverged, and the comradeship inside her team, had been the basis of my book “Blood Sisters”, which led me into gaming journalism.
After 2 years we’d split up, not without regrets, driven apart by our competitiveness and diverging needs. But I did gain an ability to recognise when someone had that same drive, that same attitude, and I could see it now in Dr. Homright. If this ‘quest’ ended up being as screwy as I thought it would be, the last thing I’d need was her working against me.
“What if we work together? It seems to me our specialities complement each other. If we pool our resources, we could get you results faster than if we each work alone.”
Spreckels gave a moue of distaste.
“Boring. But very well. Find Kafana within the next 7 days, and you will both be well rewarded for your loyalty to me.”
His voice had a sing-song lilt as he added before vanishing.
“Try your hardest. I’ll have my eye on you!”