Chapter 12: Area Seventy-Five

Ricky opened his eyes.

By the time he was aware of his changed surroundings, he was already moving, his body sliding backwards out of the sleeping pod. He raised one arm and then another, and then decided that his body felt relatively normal despite the overnight confinement. He sat up, swung his legs around, and waited as the platform emerged fully. Then he unclipped the harness and looked around.

He was a long way up, but there was a ladder already in place, and a couple of camp guards were standing chatting not far away, both clutching guns close to their bodies.

So.

Nothing much had changed – after the time he had spent inside the Dark Framework, he was still confined to hard physical labor outside the city walls of New Baravia. And he felt like he had barely slept. What was much worse, though, was the realization that the relative freedom he had experienced in the Framework – the Guide, the weapons, the sense of being treated as special – would disappear each time he left the pod by morning.

But as Ricky descended, scanning the area, he realized that something had changed. After the time he had spent inside the simulation – an overnight in real time, but 24 hours in the game – he could somehow look on his surroundings and at life in the New Baravian refugee camp in a different light.

This wasn’t just a confinement, slave labor while his application made their way to the front of a line at an excruciatingly slow pace.

No.

There was a world inside the Framework that was beginning to feel more like normality for Ricky than his actual life. Than the painful, cold, damp reality surrounded by the cold, and by endless masked guards.

He narrowed his eyes as he reached the ground. The thought of guards reminded him of the friendly, shaven-headed man who had first helped him into the pod, but there was no sign of that one now. Instead, all of the guards stood several yards back, eyeing him warily. The pair who had been chatting had now moved apart; one still stood near where he had descended, on the opposite side of the building, and the other had taken up a similar position around twenty yards on. The nearest one gestured with his (or her?) gun, and Ricky started to move towards the entrance.

His overnight walk through the forest and along the road to Imperialis had been cold, sure, but it felt colder still when Ricky staggered out into the darkness of the labor camp. It was still before dawn, but already his fellow refugees were being put to work. He thought he recognised the man Paco from the train; the bald man was a few dozen yards ahead of him, but going in a different direction.

Everyone else looked unfamiliar.

A guard gestured at Ricky as he left the building, but he shrugged, not understanding what was being asked of him. Nobody had actually told him where to go, he realised, or how to do the work that was expected of him.

“I’m new,” he said to the guard, stopping and spreading his hands.

The guard growled with frustration, and then looked one way and then the other. Then he pointed in the direction of the hulking city wall. “We need more hands over there – Area 75. It’s dirty and you’ll get wet. That’s where you will go every morning from now on, so no complaining and no questions. Understand?”

Ricky nodded, and began to move the way he had been directed. The people walking ahead of him were hunched, perhaps due to the cold, but there was a real sense of misery, too.

Hopelessness.

He considered again how long it would take to work yourself out of the camp and into the city. He hadn’t done the math, and didn’t know yet how much wood could be cut from the rotting stumps. But it sure didn’t look hopeful.

What seemed strange to Ricky, however, was the way that none of the others looked buoyed up by the prospect of finding a key – the simulated quest which they had access to by night. Granted, he was at the very beginning of that process, but it seemed to Ricky that an unexpected lifeline had been dangled in front of him. And he felt great about it! All he had to do was work closely with the Tooth and Claw Guild to find the orb, and then they would all make it through the doorway and attain the key as a team.

Citizenship awaited.

Would it be easy? Surely not. But the main thing was that there was a real, viable way to achieve his goal.

As Ricky followed the path through the camp, he watched one after another of his fellow refugees engaged in the tasks of the camp in more nearby sectors. In practical terms, nearly all of the work appeared to involve digging roots out of the earth, or cutting and break pieces out of rotting tree stumps. A few workers were engaged in picking up these scraps of wood and throwing them into the backs of the large self-driving containers; the latter sat to the side of a few of the paths, their engines humming softly.

The refugees (workers, slaves... call them what you like) had largely kept themselves to themselves so far, and Ricky briefly reflected that this might suit him quite well. He had been a loner for many months of his journey to the camp, other than the enforced camaraderie of the crew during the period when he had first embarked on the Atlantic crossing in The Wandering Albatross.

The truth was, he didn’t want to get too close. He wanted to be a decent human being, yes, and if someone asked for something that wasn’t too taxing for him, he would surely cooperate. And he certainly wouldn’t stand idle and watch vulnerable people being hurt – at least, not if there was anything he could do about it.

All the same, he didn’t want to get involved with other people if he could avoid it. Being a loner was a strategy that had suited him well up to now.

He passed a further group of workers, these ones all in either red or orange smocks. Relative newbies like himself. Each one stood around five yards apart from the next, and all worked in total silence.

After walking for about ten minutes, he reached a sign that said ‘Area 75’. Well, that was clear enough. Taking the small side path, he walked in-between a pair of similar-looking swampy ponds, each with some half-rotten trees protruding out of them.

It was a quieter area, with only three other workers, two of whom had yellow outfits and one red, and a single guard standing beside a metal barrel. To his relief, a further guard handed Ricky a long-handled spade from the barrel, and then pointed him in the direction of an area where he could get to work. After the gruff responses he had had from the guards so far, he really hadn’t wanted to ask.

Suppressing a groan, Ricky waded into the muddy water, noticing a slight sheen of oil across its surface. It was about a foot deep; the water was cold and within seconds both his feet and lower legs were soaked. He took another step further, finding a moderately secure footing on the mud below, and began to work.

He looked around at the others. All of them were already working at a slow, sustainable pace in total silence. Either eye contact was not allowed, or was simply not the norm. Certainly, none of the others so much as glanced at Ricky as he good to work. Soon after, another worker arrived – a man in a green outfit. He, too, silently got to work without any direction from the guards.

During the hours of the morning, it was only occasionally – very occasionally – that Ricky’s eyes met with those of another refugee, but none looked for long, and nobody was making conversation – not with him, and not with anyone else. The message was clear: get on with your work, and leave us alone.

After a few hours, Ricky decided to risk asking when they would be getting lunch. This led to a shocked look from the nearer yellow-clad refugee, followed by the guard marching over and thumping both of them hard with the butt of his gun.

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No lunch, then. That figured.

And after that, Ricky stayed quiet.

As the sun started to fall in the west there came a siren, and almost as one, the refugees began to move back towards the buildings.

Well – now he got it.

It was going to be weird and depressing that nobody could speak as they worked, and whether through threats or habit, nobody spoke on the paths back towards their buildings, either.

People kept their heads down, their shoulders slumped. And after just a single day of back-breaking labor – with many months of the same in prospect – Ricky was beginning to understand why. Cold, wet, fatigue, loneliness – the Dark Framework was starting to look more attractive yet, despite all of the dangers that his adventures there so far had entailed.

And then, unexpectedly, Ricky heard a voice call out from behind him.

He stopped and looked around, and spotted a woman coming his way. She was wearing a blue refugee smock; that made her one of the more longstanding members of the camp, so her willingness to make contact felt all the more surprising. She had brown eyes, and brown hair which fell in springy curls around her face, without a hint of the dampness or sweat that Ricky had been experiencing all day long, although her overalls were soaked up to the waist.

And then, as the woman reached him, she stopped and pointed ahead. “Heading this way?” she murmured, and then gave a half smile.

Ricky hesitated, looking at her and then glancing around for any sign of guards. There were none close by, and the other refugees that were approaching were still a distance as well.

“Uh... good evening,” he said.

“You look surprised at something.”

“I, uh... Well, I guess I’ve hardly met anyone here who has looked at for me for more than a second. I’m not complaining, but everyone else seems to want to keep themselves to themselves.”

She nodded slightly and looking at the ground. “That sounds about right, but there should always be hope. Say, do you need to partner up on your digging tomorrow?”

“I mean, perhaps – but is that even allowed.”

She chuckled softly. “Let me tell you something about the guards. They may be assholes, most of them, but they want an easy life. If refugees are quietly getting on with the job, they leave us alone. They only get aggressive when we cause them problems or unduly attract their attention.” She looked around. “Talking of... we should keep moving if we don’t want to be beaten by one of the guards. I haven’t survived this long in the camp only to get reprimanded for chatting.”

She moved on ahead. Ricky nodded earnestly and then followed, coming to walk alongside her. “I hate the guards already,” he said quietly. “We workers are nothing to them – that much is obvious.” He sniffed, looking ahead to where a solitary guard with a gun was stationed on a tall metal outpost, sternly observing as the workers returned for the evening.

They were now on a wide, raised path. Further areas of marsh lay on both sides, each of which was rapidly emptying as other refugees left their work and headed back towards the buildings for the night.

“I’m Julie, by the way.”

Ricky glanced sideways at her briefly. “Oh, hey. Um... I’m Ricky.”

“You don’t seem very sure about that.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s just been a while since I’ve had to introduce myself, you know? Long journey. Besides...”

He trailed off; he had been about to explain how he had called himself Treecutter in the Framework, but then realized how stupid it would now sound.

She didn’t press him on it, instead slowing as a several other people joined the path not far in front of them. “You’re not the only one who has come a long way, Ricky. People from all over the world, all ending up here, of all places.”

“I suppose that they have an endless supply with which to replace us.”

“That’s for sure.”

Ricky glanced around at Julie. “So you’ve been here a while?”

“One of the old timers, I guess you could say.” She smiled again; her manner struck Ricky as peculiarly light-hearted compared to that of every other refugee he had observed so far.

He looked at her again, frowning at the thought of having to work up to his knees in muddy water for weeks, months, or longer. “So... then what do you make of this place?”

“It’s all right, I guess,” she said softly, her big brown eyes looking around as if she just noticed for the first time that we were standing in a work camp full of half-starved refugees, where people were fed slops and given no money for their work.

“All right? Are you serious?”

“I suppose it could do with a few improvements. But it’s only temporary. One part of a much larger whole. I don’t even think about it much.”

It occurred to Ricky that this sentiment very much echoed what he had been thinking to himself as he had exited the Dark Framework a short while before. He took a step closer, and looked Julie in the eye. “Are you more focused on... overnight activities?”

She arched her eyebrows. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Oh, sorry.” Ricky clenched his teeth, aware of how sleazy his words must have sounded. He knew all too well from his many months on the road that lone women could sometimes feel vulnerable, and it was his duty not to make them feel threatened.

“It’s all right,” she said, with a chuckle. “I suppose you are talking about the Framework. I love it, of course. When I’m working, I am mostly just thinking about what is happening in there. Hatching plans.”

“Right.”

They now turned together onto another path, this one a very broad track which led directly back to the building where Rick slept. The railway line crossed not far from the right. As Ricky glanced in that direction, he suddenly realized why Julie looked familiar – he had seen her before, working alongside this track when he and Paco had passed upon their arrival.

And as he looked back at Julie, she said something else that made him see that their meeting on the path had been no coincidence: “Anyhow, nice though it is to chat, someone told me that you are a mechanic.”

“Uh... of sorts, yes.” Ricky was now feeling a little deflated to realize that Julie’s interest in him was more functional than he had at first realized. Still, a human connection was something worth celebrating.

“So... could you fix a bicycle, for example?” she asked.

“A bicycle?”

She giggled. “Yep. You know them? It's one of those metal things with wheels. Not a truck, I mean... the little two-wheeled things.”

“Oh,” he began. “I mean, I know what it is. And yeah, I suppose so, if I had access to the tools. I didn’t know that anyone here, would, you know... have one.”

“Right,” she interrupted, stopping walking for a moment and spreading her hands. “Much too valuable, right? It wouldn't last long, because as soon as you left it, someone would be taking the parts for scrap. But just for a moment – imagine it. Just flying along these paths. Feeling free.”

“Free, yeah,” he responded, frowning as he also stopped and glanced around. This whole line of conversation was beyond unexpected – it was getting weird. “Well yeah, like I say, I am pretty sure I could repair one. But I’d need the parts, and...” He tailed off, shrugging, and looking around them. “Tools, and a bit of time and space to work, I suppose.”

Just then, a guard shouted angrily from up ahead, and Julie clapped Ricky across the back to hurry him on. “I think it would feel like you’re galloping on the back of a mighty steed,” she said, looking sideways at him.

“Well, I’ll do my best. Just let me know when you’re ready for my help.”

She laughed softly to herself, now looking ahead towards the building where Ricky was accommodated. “I tell you what – let’s discuss it somewhere more civilized. Roker Bridge, perhaps? Or Imperialis?”

Ricky narrowed his eyes wondering what it was safe to say when outside of the simulation. For it had occurred to him that Julie might be someone that he had already met inside the game – perhaps even a threat to him.

She might also be a member of the Tooth and Claw Guild. Maybe she was even Gabriella... But yet, he didn’t think so. His warrior friend was stern and serious. He didn’t think she would joke about the threats that prevailed in the refugee camp.

Ricky was considering whether he should ask Julie to tell him who she was inside the Framework, but his train of thought was interrupted when she stopped again. They were now just a few yards from his building.

“You stay in here too?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose as she looked at his accommodation. “Nope. And that reminds me – my associates and I can get you transferred to our building.”

He frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”

She chuckled again. “Time and space, as you said. So important. Do I look like someone who actually spent has the past year up to my waist in mud?”

Ricky looked her up and down. She looked all right, that was for sure – really very attractive despite the partially-soaked overalls. But he wasn’t too sure of how to answer her question. “I guess... not?” he said at last. In truth he wasn’t too sure what she even meant. Surely work in the camp wasn’t optional?

The guard near Ricky’s building had glanced at them a couple of times now.

Julie nodded, now speaking more quietly to him. “It would obviously be preferable to game all day and all night, right?” She looked around them again, sniffing in distaste. “Not least because it minimizes our time in this cursed reality.”

Ricky frowned. “All the time? But what about food?”

She shrugged. “I can’t say how it works exactly, my friend. But for whatever reason, the pods keep you safe, warm, fed... it’s like being in hibernation. You can stay in there for a long while, and you remain perfectly fine. Sleep off an illness or injury, even. Perhaps that’s what they were for to start off with.”

“And so you’re in the game the whole time?”

She nodded. “Awesome, right? It’s one of the older residences. They have the full kit – the newer ones are really just sleeping pods with the headsets.”

Ricky looked around. “For some reason, I don’t think the camp guards would be too interested in a polite request to upgrade my accommodation.”

She smiled. “You’re hella weird,” she said. “And no. We’ll find a way to sneak you in.”

“Sure you must come out of the pods sometimes?”

“Sure, to take care of business. Like now, for example. But the more time we are in the Framework, the more time we can spend seeking the keys.”

This seemed to be an opportunity to check what she knew...

“And has anyone found one? A key, I mean?”

She chuckled, raising her eyebrows. “Well, if it was that easy. Anyhow, we’ll speak soon. Tomorrow – I’ll see you on the same path, and I want you to follow me. Just following, no talking.”

He narrowed his eyes again. “And why would you help me?”

She looked him up and down, and then began to walk away. “To be frank, because we could probably do with someone who knows the difference between a sprocket and a gear. And besides – you are pretty cute for a noob.”

With that, she walked away.