Freeman Johnson was far from his birthplace in Newport, a town two hours south of Milford. Like most teenagers he didn’t want to move. His father, Robert, had taken a job working for the US government as an intelligence analyst. Last spring, Freeman’s world came crashing down when his father made an announcement at dinner.
“How would you like to live in Hawaii?”
Freeman’s mother, Susan, was delighted. “I can finally work on my tan and not be so cold,” she said. But Freeman didn’t want to leave Newport, or his friends there.
“I don’t want to move that far.”
“Why not? It’s paradise. You can learn how to surf, get a tan, and finally meet some girls,” Robert said.
“I won’t go.”
“You will go wherever I go. I’m the man of the house, and that’s final.”
Freeman left the dinner table and headed straight for his room.
“He will come around,” Robert told Susan. “Just wait until he sees the sands of Waikiki.”
Susan smiled in return.
Eight months later, the family landed in Oahu. It was December, and the heat and humidity were too much for Freeman. The family was in the car, driving to their new house.
“It’s too hot!” Freeman complained to his father.
“Nonsense—feel the breeze of the trade winds, look at the water,” Robert replied. “I bet you can’t wait to go for a swim.”
Freeman just stared out the window.
“There’s traffic here, too. Might as well live in Los Angeles,” Freeman said to no one in particular.
There better be air-conditioning, Freeman thought.
About thirty minutes later, Robert pulled up to a modest home.
“The house is tiny,” Freeman said.
Robert unlocked the door to their new home. Freeman was uncomfortable the minute he entered. It took him a minute or two to find the thermostat; the house was set to 85 degrees Fahrenheit.
“Is there a freakin’ lizard living here?” Freeman said. Then he adjusted it to a comfortable 68 degrees.
“Let me show you to your new room, son,” Robert said cheerily. Susan joined them.
Freeman followed his dad and mom into an eight-foot-by-nine-foot room with only one small window, which provided inadequate light. The room featured a single bed and a small student desk.
“It’s smaller than my old room,” Freeman said.
“I’m sorry, son, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.”
Freeman looked out the window. Good thing this house is on a hill. Better hacking opportunities. Freeman smiled.
“Whatcha think?” Robert asked.
“I can make this work,” Freeman said. He was beginning to feel better now that the air-conditioning unit was on.
“Let’s go to the beach. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from here,” Robert said.
“Sounds great,” Susan said.
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“I’m going to stay here and set up my room,” Freeman countered.
His parents quickly left the house. The idiots think they are on vacation, Freeman thought bitterly.
Freeman opened his large computer bag that contained what he called “The Beast”: a seventeen-inch gaming laptop he used to enter the world of the Colossal Machine. The online game he was addicted to. Although he was tired from traveling, he was eager to try out the new exploit code that he’d downloaded just before the twelve-hour flight to Hawaii. Freeman opened a medium-sized zippered case that revealed several color-coded hard drives. He took the red drive from the pouch, pressed a button to eject the one that was currently residing in The Beast, and then inserted the red drive. A few minutes later, he was greeted with a command prompt that was customized to read, “Hello, how can I help my maker?”
Freeman scanned for available Wi-Fi signals. Drat—no internet connection. Is Dad trying to punish me? Freeman unzipped another large bag and took out a cylinder with a wire attached to one side. He positioned it near the window, plugged the cable from the cylinder into a port on his laptop, typed in a few commands, and found several suitable Wi-Fi hotspots. He connected to “Ohana Joe’s Coffee Shop Free Wi-Fi” and brought up a program called Wiresploit, which allowed him to hack into unsuspecting Wi-Fi access points. Seconds later, he was on the network. After a few more keystrokes, he was able to see a complete connection list with the names of machines and assigned IP addresses and open ports. He took note of the information for later. Never know when I’ll need a puppet, Freeman thought, chuckling to himself.
After a few more keystrokes, Freeman was connected using an encrypted VPN connection. He launched his recently patched MORP browser and copied some cryptic-looking addresses into the address bar. After entering the necessary information to authenticate to the site, he entered an area titled “Dark Maven,” which required another set of credentials. This time, he needed to enter some numbers from a fob that was attached to a keychain. It displayed an eight-digit numeric code. He navigated to the repository section and clicked the “Daily Builds” link. A directory listing of several files all starting with the letters “PV” appeared. He typed some commands and, after a few minutes, several files appeared in his downloads directory. He used a compiler program to assemble and build the files. He copied the newly created code to an external flash drive and then shut down the machine.
He swapped hard drives. This time, using a blue drive, he copied the code to the appropriate Colossal Machine source patch directory and then initiated the patching process. Normally, the program checked the files for the appropriate version numbers and assembled them into the appropriate game code. Freeman’s version of the game launcher was modified to disable the watchdog program, which disallowed unauthorized code. Freeman injected the code he had received from Dark Maven. He plugged in his VR headset and, within minutes, he was in the world of the Colossal Machine.
His avatar appeared in a brightly sunlit expanse that featured a large city in the distance with a clear dome surrounding it. He noticed several flying birds with figures riding them; they appeared to be patrolling the city. The terrain around the city was an inhospitable wasteland. Several strange-looking creatures appeared. One of these creatures seemed to be a hybrid of a large toad and a duck. When another, smaller creature that resembled a mouse got too close, it spat a green liquid at it. Within a minute, the recipient of the green goo stopped moving. The toad took its time waddling over to it, opened its mouth, and latched a tentacle around the fallen creature; its small wings flapped as the toad thing reeled in its prey. However, the size of the winged creature proved a challenge. The toad’s webbed feet dug into the soil to stabilize itself as its victim was being swallowed whole.
Then another toad-like creature started waddling toward Freeman’s avatar with a hungry look. Freeman jumped reflexively, and large wings stretched out of his avatar’s back and propelled him toward the sky.
Whew!
“I need to be more careful. There is no one to resurrect me here,” Freeman said to himself.
Freeman surveyed the land below. He was in a section of the game world usually reserved for the gameplay masters: a group of in-game administrators who policed the game. The code that Freeman had downloaded took advantage of an exploit in the game’s code that granted Freeman (and whoever else who used it) unfettered access to the world between worlds. Freeman’s avatar couldn’t afford a microcosm, which was a private area that gave players full control to create as they saw fit; however, his plan was simple: find a decaying microcosm, then pillage all the loot out of it before it disappeared from the game world entirely. Player structures and worlds were set to degrade if the owners’ avatars didn’t show up for a certain period of time. The time period wasn’t public knowledge, but Freeman estimated it was around three real-world weeks.
After flying around in an aimless pattern for what seemed like an eternity, Freeman spotted a microcosm that was in the final process of decay. The outer protective shell of the microcosm was gone. Freeman could see a large, magnificent structure that looked like a tower with several spires. An impressive mountain range, waterfall, and lake were close to the tower.
Someone spent a long time constructing this. It would be a shame to wreck it. No sooner had that thought run through his mind than he dismissed it.
“Time to loot,” Freeman yelled as he dove through the remnants of the ruined microcosm.