Chapter 6

With all of the commotion and running from the law, I hadn't paid attention to where we were.

My horse still hadn't provided me with his name and, as a result, I was just calling him Horse.

Horse was still propelling us and 'Sandra' forward and his stamina bar was almost empty. Around us wasn't much, but I was looking as someone who had never needed to hide from the law before.

"Are there any needles in your bag?" Horse huffed.

"No," I said without looking. A needle is something that would have stuck in my memory if I had seen it.

"Damn," he said through gasps. "Too tired. Need to stop."

There was a small collection of trees coming up on our right. Aside from those and the forest a little farther to our left, there wasn't much in the way of cover.

"Get there," I pointed with my free hand.

My wanted level, measured by the size of the flashing red area on my map, was shrinking, and falling behind me, but we were still in it.

As if reading my mind, Horse said, "They have to not see you until the red goes away. The trees might work, but," he stopped running and started walking to the treeline, "you are going to have to crouch."

The red on my map was a shrinking cloud that was starting to move closer to my location now that we had slowed.

We hit the tree line just as the two law enforcement markers on my map entered the red.

"Can you guys crouch or lie down or something?"

"Pull Sandra down," Horse said. "I was a person once, she wasn't. You'll have to guide her."

I hopped down and laid in the grass, pulling Sandra down with me. Horse joined us. He was finally catching his breath and decided to waste it on whispering to me.

"The red cloud on your map is the search area," he explained. "When you're wanted, it will show the place where the sheriff and his gang will be hunting for you. If you can stay hidden or, better yet, completely out of the cloud until it shrinks away, then they will call off the hunt. Even if they see you after the fact they can't do anything about it." He snorted. "Has something to do with no longer being able to tie you to the scene of the crime anymore."

I slowly went about reloading my Farmer's Pistol while Horse spoke. When he was done, I started to ask a question, but he snorted to cut me off.

"You can hear me because you're my rider. It's a glitch of the quest because I will be your reward, even if I'm not actually yours yet. Horses that are players can only be heard by their riders and the other horse players." He dipped his head toward the law and I saw that they were almost on us. "Sit still."

All I could see on my map were the two cops, but I knew that wasn't all that was going to be coming. If this wanted level didn't go away, I could be in serious trouble.

A younger man, one of the youngest I had seen in-game I realized, was almost on top of me. Without even realizing it, his gun was aimed right at my body. I didn't move and I didn't need to. My pistol had been trained on him since he entered the trees.

If the map grew again, he was dead.

It grew smaller and he stepped closer.

Smaller still and he was only seven feet away.

Smaller and he was five feet.

Smaller again and he was two feet away.

His foot bumped me and he looked down.

When our eyes locked, the map flashed and went back to its original 'old-timey' look.

No red anywhere.

"You lucked out," he smirked and turned. "First round is on me," he shrugged, "assuming no one else tries to break the law." He and his older partner stomped back to their horses laughing almost too much at the small joke.

Horse and I took a minute to collect ourselves. My constant state of having a million questions with no time for answers was beginning to wear on me. On the other hand, it was nice to know what I had to do next.

“Let’s get back to Easter and turn you in,” I said to Horse. I hopped on the saddle, which I had only just noticed wasn’t the most comfortable, and grabbed Sandra’s reins. After we were situated, I had to stop myself before I spurred Horse forward.

“Uh,” I let out a nervous cough and continued, “Would you mind yeehawing toward Easter, please?”

“If you keep asking your horse to move,” Horse replied, “people are going to think you’re crazy.”

“Shut up, you,” I laughed. “Just git already.”

We were pulling into Easter sooner than I expected. As we rode up to the stables, I could clearly make out Henrik. He could see me too, and started to wave.

“We are going to need to pump the brakes,” I said to Horse.

“What? Why?” he asked. “If we stop now, the original owners could show up and report you. That whole chase scene back there would be for nothing if that happens.”

“Then we need to hide,” I explained. “I promised Coot that he could turn in the second horse. He said that if I finish without him, he will probably have to start over.” I patted the horse’s side. “Neither of us want that.”

Horse turned toward the way we had come. “Then we shouldn’t even enter town. If we get too close to the quest giver, it could trigger his ending the quest.”

I did some quick math and we still had at least 15 minutes before when I suspected Coot would resurrect. That combined with his having to walk all the way to Easter, assuming he didn’t piss off the law by stealing a faster ride, meant that I had another hour or so before my posse member would show up.

We could use party chat when he respawned. That would give me a better idea of when he would be getting into town.

Until then, I either had to befriend a person who decided that living life as a horse would be a hoot, or I had to come up with something else to occupy my time.

I brought up the map and looked at Easter in all of its old-timey glory.

“Would the post office be outside of the quest range?”

Horse dipped his head. “Yes, but-“

I cut him off. “-but, it’s locked down when you’re in the middle of a mission?”

“Everything useful is,” he admitted. “I think the idea is to make you stock up and prepare for the mission instead of getting into it and making changes.”

"Well," I said, "that's a dumb idea."

For the next twenty minutes, since my math was off, we sat in the grass about a hundred yards outside of Easter. I spent the time looking over my HUD and inventory a little more to see if there was anything that I might have missed.

At the same time, I kept an eye on my map for any other players. The last thing that I needed was to get killed by one of them while I was on the mission.

From my inventory, I learned that I could examine and clean my weapons. I could trigger the actions by digging around in my inventory, selecting my gun and then mentally choosing the option to inspect it, and then the option to clean it.

Or I could pick up my gun and just start cleaning it like I would in the real world. It was weird how it gave you the option. It was as if they didn't want me to forget that it was a game, even if a little bit of roleplay was encouraged. I couldn't help but wonder if that was some sort of mental health aspect to the game. Was I seeing some hinted warning that forgetting you were in a game could cause some sort of issues?

Or was I so bored and angry at having to wait on Coot to respawn that I was inventing conspiracy theories out of my inventory?

When Coot did his miraculous rebirth, a notification popped up to let me know.

D0C70RC007: Did you live?

Sammy#0421: Yes. Got both horses and lost the law. I'm sitting outside of Easter now. South road that leads to the stables.

D0C70RC007: I see you on the map. Shouldn't take me too long.

Sammy#0421: Hurry up. I got the chatty horse.

D0C70RC007: Chatty?

Sammy#0421: You'll see.

I wasn't exaggerating either. While Horse had remained incredibly useful during combat, his demeanor shifted entirely when he was bored.

He talked a lot.

At first, I thought that I could use it and get information out of him. That failed miserably. He only wanted to talk about the battle, the daring escape, and the new saddle he hoped I would buy.

"There's one that you can get," Horse explained, "that has a lantern on the front." He lifted his head. "It hangs under my neck and acts like a headlight."

"Why would I want that one?" I asked. "People would shoot me first at night."

"Did you not see the fight we just escaped from?" He raspberried me. "Woosh, I was fast. You didn't get hit or anything."

I pointed at the blood on my chest. "What are you talking about? We both got hit."

"Any bullet you walk away from doesn't count. Everyone knows that."

Another half hour and Coot's blue dot came up on my minimap. He was close.

"Hello to camp, or whatever the parlance of our situation is," he bellowed from about 25 feet away.

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"Hello," I waved him over. "Can we turn these horses in now?"

Coot was grinning ear to ear when he held up his hands and said, "Now, hold your horses. I want to see your talking horse."

I rolled my eyes. "You aren't as funny as you look."

He huffed but stepped past me to address Horse.

"Is it a gimmick or glitch or something?"

"No, weirdo," Horse said. "I'm a player like you, just in a horse body."

Coot eyed me. "Was that the talking? You do know what a horse sounds like, right?"

"He said only his owner could hear him, and other player horses." I nodded to Horse. "He said that he's a player just like us, but he chose to be a horse."

Coot frowned at me and then at Horse before laughing and raising his hands.

"I'm not here to judge," he grabbed the reins of Sandra and didn't even look at her as he started his march toward the stables.

"Let's turn them in and get our prizes."

I couldn't disagree with that. He handled the talking horse thing better than I did, but then again, he probably thought I was crazy and just wanted to get his XP and get out of here.

I couldn't fault him for that. Who knew? I probably was crazy.

Henrik had a weird look in his eye that almost rivaled Coot's resting face.

"Were you just sitting out there this entire time?"

I hooked my thumb at Coot. "Made a friend."

Henrik nodded.

"Thank you for doing such a fine job and," Henrik winked, "procuring me these fine products," he raised his voice, "from our supplier in Aberdine."

It was all part of the lines he had to say for the quest, but I was almost entertained. It was a type of art, or stage play, but we were all part of it. It was both mesmerizing and terrifying and I couldn't help but get swept up in it.

"You're in luck, though," Henrik continued. "My brother-in-law ain't good for much, but he managed to procure me two horses as well and suddenly I have a surplus of horses. So, how about I make you a deal? How about you keep your horses and," he pulled some weird looking dollars from his pockets and started unfolding them, "something for your efforts and the next time you need work, you come to me with some horses and I'll find them a new home?"

As he handed us each the cash, my numbers on my HUD went up by $12.

"Do I have to keep this horse?" I whispered.

Henrik was surprised. "What? Why? What's wrong with this horse?"

"He talks," I said. "He's a real person. That's kind of weird right?"

Henrik raised an eyebrow. "He didn't proposition you, did he?" Anger rose on his face. "There are some things even Wicked West won't cotton to ..."

Horse and I both shouted in unison, "No, no, no."

Henrik broke into a grin while Coot just stood there snickering at me.

"Most of the horses talk," Henrik said. "It's a fun way to spend a few years of your retirement. Besides, no training required. He can tell you what he needs and you can give him commands that he understands and responds to instantly."

The stable manager could tell that I still wasn't entirely sold on the idea.

"Look," he said, "you can also mute him whenever you like, although he won't forget that, so maybe make it a discussion item before acting on it."

Horse had been helpful and pleasant to be around. It wasn't the person inside of Horse, it was the fact that there was a person inside of Horse. It made me uncomfortable, but what could I do about it if most of the horses in this game were possessed?

"Nevermind," I said. "I'll take him."

Henrik clapped his hands together. "Great. When you need horse supplies, come to the stables. Otherwise, our business is done here."

He turned and went back into the stables, leaving me and Coot alone with Horse and Sandra.

"What do you want to name me?" Horse said. His voice was just as pleasant as ever, as if he hadn't just heard me trying to replace him.

"What is your name?"

Horse shook his head. "I'm retired and living the horse experience. You get to name me."

I shrugged, "I've been calling you Horse in my head. I'll just stick with that."

"That's horrible," Horse said. As he said it, a name flashed above him in the same shade of blue that Coot's name did.

Horse.

I looked over to where Coot was paying attention to something in his HUD. Since his horse couldn't ask him what to name it, he was probably doing it all manually.

“Hey boss,” Coot turned to me. “I’m gonna head to the gunsmith. Let me know when you’re ready for the next thing.”

“Boss? I said. “Please don’t call me boss, and what next thing?”

Coot shrugged and started walking away pulling Sandra along by the reins. “You’re the gang boss, but whatever. As for the next thing, whatever and whenever it is, I’m on board. Just let me know.”

I sighed and decided that, even though the post office was open to me, I wanted a drink and to see if Eve was available to talk to.

I didn’t need to guide Horse. He followed me to the bar and started drinking from the trough without saying anything. I started to worry that I might have offended him by trying to get a replacement, but figured I would wait for him to bring it up.

There wasn’t any decorum for the first time you meet a talking horse.

As I walked in and up to the bar, the bartender mostly ignored me to finish cleaning his glass. I cast my eyes around for Marcy and found her quick enough. When she saw me looking her way, she came over.

“Are you Marcy or Eve today?”

“Sorry, darling,” Marcy said.

I smiled. “Don’t ever apologize for being yourself. Especially when an all powerful internet god can take you over at any time.”

Marcy touched my shoulder and went back to bussing tables.

The bowl of almonds was just off to my left. I reached out and grabbed a handful and began crunching.

The bartender approached me, having finished cleaning the glass, and surprised me by not having the deeper voice that I had heard him use earlier.

“You’re boring,” Eve said through the bartender’s mouth.

“What?” My shock at the change in his voice was only muted by my confusion made by Eve’s statement.

She held up the bartender’s hands in a pacifying motion, probably worried I might try to shoot her or something.

“Not entirely boring,” she said. “You were clever during the horse mission. People love watching players figure out the rules on their own. Making a posse was great stuff, but so was your look of shock when Horse started talking.” She let out a small sigh. “So, you’re sticking with calling him Horse?”

I shrugged. “He wanted the full horse experience, right? What’s more ‘horse experience’ than being called a horse?” I leaned back. “Besides, who cares how boring I am in my retirement? Isn’t that the point of retiring? You don’t have to worry about how boring people think you are?”

Eve nodded. “Boring is great in a normal retirement, but that’s not what this is, is it? And to answer your question; you.”

“Me? Me what?”

“You cared how boring you would be in your retirement,” Eve explained.

“Great,” I said. “More opinions from the me that got to go to Heaven.”

“Now that you’re more integrated into the system,” Eve leaned against the bottles behind the bar, “we can talk about the addendum to your contract.”

I held up my hand. “Stop right there. Before you go and start listing off contractual obligations, can I even be held responsible for the contractual obligations signed by an essentially different person?”

The legal repercussions of this entire system had been bouncing around in the back of my mind since this journey had first started. From the moment my digital version came into existence, I was an entirely different person with experiences that the other Sammy and I have never shared. There was no legal precedent that I was aware of that would make me contractually obligated to someone else’s poor decision making.

“I completely agree,” Eve said, “but before you go fighting it, maybe hear what the addendum has to say?”

I sighed. “I’ll listen to your sales pitch after you bring me a whiskey.”

Eve poured me the whiskey and I ignored the fifty cents leaving my inventory as I took a sip.

“So,” Eve continued, “I have forwarded all the contracts to your inbox so that you can review and verify everything.” Her voice got softer, “I know this isn’t easy. You’ve been thrust, alone, into a new world with new rules without knowing who you can even trust. I hope that you will someday come to know that you can trust me.”

I raised the glass, “If that happens, I’ll let you know.”

Eve nodded. “What you need to know is that when we ran a credit check on Samantha Howell to sign her up for this digital cloning procedure, we saw that she had co-signed some student loans for her, your, granddaughter. She graduated before you were, um, retired and has since defaulted on the loans you signed with her.”

Winnie had gotten into computer sciences or digital marketing, I wasn’t sure. She was still undecided when I had put on that damned helmet.

“What degree did she get?” I interrupted the explanation.

“Computational mathematics,” Eve said it as if it were real words. I’m sure they were, but I was just as in the dark about her degree as I had been before I asked.

“Anyway,” she kept going, “we presented this information to the other-you and she decided that her digital avatar would be more than happy to assist if she were aware of the situation.”

“What does any of that even mean?” Of course I would help Winnie if she needed it, but how does a digital avatar help someone with money trouble in the real world. We are literally worlds apart.

“The other-Sammy signed you up to broadcast your exploits on Stream-Time.”

“And what the hell is Stream-Time?”

“Stream-Time is a channel for airing gameplay. Once you have reviewed the contracts, a new button will be available on your HUD that reads ‘broadcast.’ After that button is available to you, any time that you hit it you will be broadcasting your exploits live on the internet for everyone with any interest to watch.”

“How does being an internet star help my granddaughter?”

Eve spread her hands. “Money. You make it, she gets it.”

Doing the quick math, I figured Winnie had to be somewhere around 22 years old now. I remembered my 20’s well enough to know that having bills wasn’t easy.

Gunshots went off just outside the saloon. I raised my head at that and sent a quick message to check on Coot. He replied that it, so far, had nothing to do with him.

Eve didn’t even notice the gunfire, or else she didn’t care.

“The more views you get, the more ad-revenue goes into paying off her college. Any extra goes into a fund she will receive when you reach level 250.” Eve leaned in. “She doesn’t know anything about this, of course. All she knows is that you had a fund put together to help her pay off college.”

I had put it together before this, but asked for confirmation anyway. “Being boring means less views and less views means less money for Winnie?”

“That sums it up,” Eve agreed. “Except it isn’t that dire. She has a job and is trying to pay things off, but …”

“But, money always helps,” I finished for her. “What happens if I don’t get enough ad-revenue? Does the contract get nullified?”

Eve shrugged. “It won’t be the end of the world, but she will get a bill and a letter saying that the fund you put her name on has run out. Your contract with Stream-Time will end and you can return to doing whatever.”

I was a little annoyed at being beholden to something that I knew nothing about, but I would do anything for Winnie, and this sounded like easy money

I started to stand up so that I could finally go to the post office and get this button thing started. There was no point dallying when I could be making money for Winnie.

“Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

“Hold on” Eve crossed her arms. “There’s a few rules. First, no real names. Anytime you try to let the world know who you really are, Stream-Time censors it. That’s the big rule, but all of the rules branch off of that. Even your username will likely get censored. Some new name will be generated for the viewers to watch.”

“When should I push the broadcast button?” I asked. “Will I know when is a good time?”

“It’ll record the minute before you start broadcasting so that we can get all the juicy surprises as well,” Eve said. “Any time something neat starts to happen to you, hit the button.”

Another burst of gunshots made me jump this time. It was much closer to the saloon.

Three NPC’s came running into the saloon, knocking over tables as they scrambled to the back and out the door there.

Nodding, I downed the last of my whiskey and drew my pistol, annoyed that it was still the only weapon I had. I checked my ammo in the HUD, not wasting time doing it the physical way.

6/18

That was going to have to be enough.

“A level 1 can kill any other level just as easily as anyone else, you said?”

Eve nodded. “What weapons you have access to change as you level, but a bullet is a bullet when it hits the brain.” Before I could acknowledge what she said, she quickly added, “Almost level 2.”

“What?”

“You didn’t notice, I’m guessing,” she explained. “You’re a hair away from level 2 now.”

Still in my HUD, I confirmed what the digital possessor told me and slid off of the stool.

“Guess it’s time to level up, then.”