Several thousand miles from Reach City, inside an Old Zone, Jason Nero executed a command prompt on his IBM 3270.

On the dais above the bubbling magma pool, a mere five paces from the Resolute desk, a fat pale man with a wooden leg and a port-wine stain over his right eye appeared.

“You do what I asked?” Nero said.

Hokum Joe blinked as though awakened from slumber. “Yes.”

“And?”

“He came into my tavern. I watched him the entire time.”

“And?”

“One of the whores accosted him. Took him upstairs.”

Nero did a rapid twisting motion with his hand. “And…?”

“I’m not sure. Her mind went blank. She doesn’t remember what happened until the Vizicarum arrived.”

“The Vizicarum?”

“They came in after. Kicked in the door to their room. Searched it. Like they was lookin' for someone.”

“Looking for who?”

“I don't know. But at first, they ignored Walker and the whore and searched the room.”

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“Did they find a third person?”

“No.”

Nero tapped his fingers on the desk. This was rather disconcerting news. But it was interesting. Damn interesting, in fact. “And then?”

“Then the Vizicar… his name was Camorr… he told Walker to meet him outside the city. Said the Imperator needed to meet him.”

“They question Walker?”

Hokum shook his head.

“So we’ve no idea what happened, then.” Nero worked his mouth like he had a bad taste in it. “What did our friend do after that?”

“Spoke with some players. Got drunk. Passed out.”

Nero felt a pang of sadness. Most players probably didn't realize they were prisoners of the GU. Most would die in the coming weeks. And the ones who didn’t would forget there was a reality outside the GU.

He grabbed a decanter off the desk. “Anything else?”

“Yes. His two friends were there. The ones called Vardock and EsseCount.”

He reached into a drawer to extract a fog-coated tumbler. “Both?”

“Yes.”

A pause while he poured amber liquid into the tumbler. “You get a read on them?”

A smile played across the NPC’s face. “Walker told his friends he was abandoning the quest to High Marsh. Said he was going to Siolan instead.”

He swirled the liquid around in the glass, frowning. “Why?”

Hokum’s smile grew. “That’s the funny part. Apparently an Admin told him to do so.”

The glass stopped halfway to Nero’s mouth. “An Admin?”

“Yes.”

Nero threw back the drink, swallowing the contents in one swig. Wincing at the bitterness, he said, “Why Siolan?”

“The reason wasn’t mentioned.”

Nero’s frown deepened. “I see. Anything else?”

“No.”

“Very well. You can leave.”

Hokum gave a curt bow and then vanished.

Nero turned to the ancient computer, his fingers working the reticent, coffee-stained keyboard. He typed in a string of commands and pressed ENTER. A series of symbols played across the monochrome screen in green phosphor.

PlayerID 09:17d53 has Abandoned QuestID #13221

Nero stared at the words a long time, the cursor blinking in rhythm to the rapping of his knuckles on the desk. Then, ever so slowly, a smile played across his face.

Perhaps things would work out after all.