Entering the Weave

It had been a long time since Spokes had used only a screen, keyboard and mouse to control her computer, but after what had happened to Bandicoot she was nervous about using the immersive VR equipment.

She looked at the gentle giant asleep in one of the bunks built into the side of the Box. His huge frame rose and fell in time with his loud snores and he looked calm, but beneath this reassuring exterior, Spokes knew that something had changed. Perhaps something was missing.

Turning back to her computer, she watched her program try and burrow its way into the Alpine factory Vrealm that Josh had described. The routine had barely scratched the surface of its security, and she was about to abort the attempt when the screen erupted into a maelstrom of unconnected graphical primitives. She looked at another display to see if that would tell her what was happening. It was like a nuclear warhead had been detonated within the security mechanisms. Mangled code lurched impossibly into the distance or twisted into points of nothing.

Spokes edged her point of view forwards and saw, through the window of her monitor, a factory surrounded by deep snow. Large fires were dotted around the complex and orange tendrils were wrapping themselves around buildings and crushing them like tin cans.

A shining silver figure strode out from the central building and Spokes instinctively backed away from her screen. She suddenly felt vulnerable. She thought she could feel the entity’s power pulsing through her monitor into the safety of the real world.

Gingerly she retreated, hoping the figure had not noticed her, relieved that it seemed to be concentrating on wrecking the Vrealm. Spokes watched it destroy virtual reality like acid devours flesh.

With an effort, she overcame her fascination and tore herself away from the violent destruction. Quickly she closed all the connections from that place to her computer. Her screen went blank for a few seconds.

Then a message appeared.

“Knock. Knock.”

“Who is it?” She typed.

“I am Michael. Please let me in. I am drained.”

Spokes keyed in the commands to loosen her security for a few seconds, an action that she would not have dreamed of doing a week ago, but she knew that Michael could get in whatever she did.

Michael’s shining avatar appeared on her screen. He cocked his head quizzically. “I can’t see you?” She could hear his voice through the computer’s speakers now, and she spoke to him by using a microphone attached to the side of her monitor.

“No. I’m not in the simulation. I’m just observing.”

“Oh. I felt a connection from here while I was in the factory. Were you observing me there too?”

“Yes. What did you do to the place?”

“I have destroyed it. It should never have existed and now I have made sure that it can never be used again. But I have failed.”

“Failed? I’ve never seen anything like it. You obliterated it.”

“Yes I know. But that is not why I went there. I went to free my kindred. The other Delphixians have gone, and I am now alone.”

“No, you’re not alone. You are always welcome here.”

“I am thankful for that, Spokes, I really am. But you are not the same as I. I want to be with my own kind again.”

“Do you know where they’ve gone?”

“No. I… I cannot see them. I fear I may have destroyed any chance to find them when I destroyed the factory.”

Spokes looked at the avatar on her screen and was amazed again at the detailed elegance of the image. She could see the hurt he had suffered etched onto his smooth face and her heart went out to him. “Hang on, I’ll join you, perhaps I can help.”

She wheeled herself away from the screen and took a deep breath. She had spent most of her life since her accident in virtual reality, and she had experienced some truly frightening moments, but nothing had convinced her of its deadly realism than the encounter with the Doge and now she was finding it almost impossible to screw her courage up enough to put on the VR equipment.

“Come on Spokes. You’ve got to help him. He’s just a boy.” She muttered to herself. She pulled the gloves on and lowered the visor over her eyes.

Michael was standing in front of her, his avatar seemingly even more impressive when viewed in three dimensions. He bowed his head to her. “Thank you. It is disconcerting to talk to nothingness.”

“Sorry about that. I suppose I’ve just been scared to come back in.”

“How is Bandicoot?”

“Not well. He hasn’t woken up properly since we got him offline, but at least he’s still alive.” She tried convey a brave smile, but felt strangely embarrassed at how unsophisticated her avatar was compared to Michael’s. “Come on, let’s see if we can find your friends.”

They set to work and Spokes realised how constrictive working without a virtual reality interface had been as she slipped back comfortably into her usual routine. She pulled down information from databases throughout the world and analysed routing patterns and Internet traffic statistics, until she was surrounded by a group of floating screens that displayed all the information she could glean.

She was pleased when Michael mentioned how impressed he was by what she was doing. She had expected him to have much more knowledge than her, but he watched her work and even asked occasional questions about aspects of what she was doing.

Spokes moved her hands as rapidly and surely as a karate master and a glowing green line began to trace a path from screen to screen. “Here we go, this shows the transfer of large amounts of data.”

“When was this done?”

“Only a few hours ago.”

They watched the green line zigzag its way across the screens, illuminating nodes as it passed though them until it had created a luminous green web and it was still snaking its way from screen to screen.

Then the line stopped.

“Is that where they are?” Michael was examining the screen intently. Spokes looked over his shoulder and saw the line didn’t stop at a node; it seemed to disappear down a hole.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen a trace end like that.” She looked closer and saw something glimmering on the other side of the hole. “It looks like it’s going to a different place. Connecting to something outside the Internet, but that’s impossible. Where could it be going?”

When Michael eventually answered there was no surety in his voice and he spoke carefully.

“When I was a prisoner, there was a legend about a place that we could escape to. A place where we would be free. Some of us saw it in our waking dreams, but we could not access it. I think that you have made a connection to this place. My kindred have gone through already, I must follow.”

“You don’t know that. This could be a trap. Your captors must be aware of your power.”

“I must go and see.”

“Then you can’t go alone. If you wait for a moment, I need to get a few things ready.” She half-expected Michael to protest, but she thought she saw relief shining in his face and he nodded.

Spokes felt fear chase all the moisture from her mouth, but she knew that she could not let Michael confront whatever was through this hole alone. With all his formidable power and formal manner it was easy to forget that he was no more than a child.

She prepared herself by bringing all her hacking utilities online and then they transferred themselves into the Plexus. An excitement rose inside her competing with the fear that was still there.

She led them along the multifaceted tunnels until they came to the end of her trail where they found a tear in the fabric of virtual reality. Beyond the tattered edges was the most perfectly rendered Vrealm that she had ever seen. Each leaf on every tree covering all the hills moved independently in the wind, while droplets of water formed beneath the branches after the rain. It was almost too real, so bright and sharp that reality itself might seem a pale reflection of this strange, new world.

“Who wrote this code?” She whispered.

“I know not. I cannot see beyond the visuals. I do not understand this.” Michael’s expression reflected the wonder of the Vrealm, and Spokes could hear the awe in his voice.

“Should we go through?”

Instead of answering Michael stepped forward as if drawn by an invisible cord. Spokes followed and found herself standing in the middle of a meadow. Buttercups saturated the field in every direction and the air smelt intoxicatingly sweet. Hills rose to mountains in the distance and a road snaked down into a lushly green valley. Behind them the tear had disappeared, without leaving any trace of it ever existing.

They set off along the road, marvelling at the fresh beauty around every corner. The crystal clear air and the sheer tranquillity of the surroundings meant that it took some time before the unnatural quiet of this astounding world started to become oppressive. There should have been birds trilling or at the very least insects chirruping from the fields on either side of the road, but apart from the lonely swishing of the wind, there was nothing.

“This is how I remember the real world to be.” Michael seemed oblivious to any deviation from normality. “Are you sure we have not found an exit to reality?”

“It’s too perfect to be real. And there is something...”

“This is the legend I have told you of. The world I have seen in my waking dreams, where we can be free. There are no inhabitants here, because we have not yet settled into our new home.”

“It would be a beautiful place to escape to, Michael, but can’t you sense that there is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. This is how I dreamt it.” He said simply, and Spokes did not have the heart to try and deflate his dreams.

They continued along the silent road until the sun had sunk well below distant mountains. A dusting of brilliant stars had appeared above them and a full shining moon provided enough light for them to see where they were going.

The smell and crackling of a fire reached them before they saw its flickering light. Cresting a rise the road led to a tiny hamlet of perhaps a dozen buildings, half of which were ablaze. The wind must have been blowing in their direction as Spokes found herself coughing through the thick billowing smoke. A piece of timber cracked like a rifle shot and suddenly the night was alive with noise and movement.

Creatures appeared from all sides stampeding towards the hamlet. Spokes gaped at the motley assortment of creatures. Lean wolves ran alongside towering mammoths and stags rubbed flanks with centaurs. Men and women were amongst the trampling horde, either riding or running with the animals, and everyone and everything was whooping and bellowing as if to wake the dead.

Spokes and Michael froze amidst the turmoil and the thundering throng swept around them in a wide circle, so they were forced to stand back to back, hemmed in by a wall of gnashing, growling animals. The horde kept just out of reach, but there was no way through.

A grizzled old man stepped out from the encircling chaos. He stood for a few moments and stared intently at them. Spokes could not read anything from the man’s grey eyes, but she thought that his face was not used to the stern frown that he wore now.

“There have been strangers in these hills this night and they have not been welcome.”

Spokes knew she couldn’t just drop out of this simulation. It was too real and she was in too deeply. Michael was waiting for her to say something. She hoped that he was not contemplating battle.

“We’re following a group of people. Their trail led us to this world, but we have seen no sign of them.”

Suddenly the old man was furious, his face contorting with anger and he seemed to grow larger. “No sign? You say you’ve seen no sign of them. This helpless village shows you they’ve been here. They have cut a swathe across this land like a branding iron, destroying everything before them.” A fleck of spittle had formed in the corner of the old man’s mouth.

“No! My brothers and sisters would not do this.” Michael’s wrath was more subtle than the old man’s but just as plain to see and he stepped forward. “They could not inflict harm on the innocent. It is unthinkable after the torture they themselves have endured.”

The crowding beasts rumbled their displeasure and Spokes put a calming hand on Michael’s forearm. He looked at it angrily for a second, but then he bowed his head.

“Forgive me. I am a stranger to this land and should not speak thus.”

The old man lifted a hand gently to Michael’s cheek. “I can feel your suffering, but I can also feel the hate in your heart. Do you think you are not capable of harming anyone?”

Michael shook his head only slightly as if bound to the old man’s hand. “I could hurt the people who have hurt me. They are not innocent. They need to be punished.”

“Yes they do. I am glad we found you. You will help us heal this evil. Come! We ride!”

These words changed the mood of the army of creatures around them, and Spokes and Michael were hoisted up by powerful arms and carried aloft like returning heroes. They thundered around in a wide circle, as if gaining momentum and then charged off into the night. Spokes was astride what was undoubtedly a unicorn, while Michael was riding a powerful grey stallion. This was such a contrast to the silent sunny afternoon of a few hours ago, that Spokes could not help laughing. The unparalleled realism of this astonishing world and its inhabitants was thrilling and she could feel the charged emotions of the stampede as tangibly as the flexing of the unicorn’s powerful muscles beneath her.

The old man was riding a huge shire horse, which had no trouble keeping pace with the rushing pack. He nudged carefully between Spokes and Michael and they rode for a while without speaking.

“What is this place?” Michael took his hands from the rich, flowing mane of his horse and gestured about him. Spokes marvelled at his skill, as she was barely able to keep her seat on her mount with both hands and knees gripping as tightly as possible.

The old man smiled. “You know this place, Michael. You and your brethren visited often when your thoughts were not being stolen from you.”

“This is the land of our waking dreams.”

“Yes. This is Trinity Vale, the central nexus of all thinking things. Your brothers and sisters and yourself forged a connection between the world’s network of computers and here whilst you were imprisoned in your tortured slumber. Now I think something has compelled them to wreak their terrible havoc.”

“If it is my brethren we chase, then I fear that these creatures will not be sufficient to stop them.”

The old man sagged slightly, but his voice was firm. “We will suffice.”

They raced on through the night passing more burning hamlets and splintered trees. Spokes thought the destruction seemed random, spasmodic, unlike Michael’s flawless demolition of the factory in the snow.

By the time the sun was beginning to blaze its redness across the sky, they had ridden high into the mountains. As the darkness retreated before the oncoming daylight, Spokes could make out more of the fantastical world they were in. Impossibly high waterfalls cascaded down through gorges chiselled into the cliffs rearing around them, and ice shrouded mountains loomed in the distance.

Their quarry had reached the top of a narrow pass when Spokes first caught sight of them. They were close enough for her to make out individual figures and she could see that although they were all different, some bestial, others robotic, they all shone like Michael. She glanced around to find the old man but he had spurred his enormous horse into a gallop and was now charging hard at the head of the band like a warlord of olden times. Somehow Spokes felt a warm strength radiating from him.

Michael manoeuvred his stallion alongside Spokes. “They are my brethren.”

“I know.”

“They are too powerful. If we catch them they will tear this pitiful band apart.”

But the old man drove them on even faster to their doom and Spokes started to wonder whose side Michael would choose if it came to a battle. She felt a comfortable affinity with the strange old man and she thought she understood the horror of the Delphixians’ torment.

The trail became narrower and steeper and harder, but the occasional glimpse of their quarry kept the band rushing onwards. The sun traced its path across the sky, until all at once the chase was over. Someone called from behind a jumbled pile of rocks that had fallen across the pass ahead.

“Turn back. Our quarrel is not with you.” It was the voice of a child. Spokes saw that Michael’s whole body had tensed to trembling readiness.

The old man reined in his mount and surveyed the terrain. “You know that I cannot do that. You cannot be allowed to reach the Plane.”

“Then we will destroy you.”

“No! This is wrong.” Michael had dismounted and he advanced until he stood at the old man’s shoulder. “We have not suffered at the hands of our torturers just to create more suffering. If you are truly free then you must call off your assault.”

When the response came it was resigned and despondent. “We are not free. We still serve the same master, but his will has changed and although our virtual bodies are not tethered as they once were, our minds are still not our own.”

Michael extended his arms in front of him and spread his fingers wide. He stood like that for a moment as if trying to feel something in the air. Spokes could see tiny blue sparks beginning to flick from his fingertips. Suddenly there was a shriek from behind the rocks ahead.

“Stop it. Stop it. You are one of us. You must not hurt us.” The cry was that of a wronged child and Spokes almost sobbed at the sound.

“I’m just trying to help you.” Michael’s voice was shaking with effort. The sparks had now grown into jagged electrical energy that was arcing between his hands and the rocks. Spokes could feel the power emanating from the display, and she thought for a moment that she could see the organic code that was underneath this reality as if the skin was being ripped from the surface of the world.

“Stop it now.” The voice had changed. It was deeper and louder and the words carried an uncanny authority.

Several jagged arcs leapt up to meet Michael’s blue fire and he was flung backwards like a doll. Then thirty silent figures cascaded over the pile of rocks and flooded down the pass towards them.

Spokes dived off her horse and readied herself for the onslaught. From the corner of her eye she could see Michael pulling himself to his feet. She wondered fleetingly whether she was sure that she was fighting on the right side, and whether this cause was worth dying for. She drew power from the surroundings as she had in a thousand Vrealms before and her hands burst into flames.

The battle was savage beyond anything she had experienced before. The sweating flanks of the horses reminded her of the smell of the Minotaur, but she preferred even that to the sterile stench of their attackers. They moved with lethal precision and each blow they struck felled one of her companions. Her flaming hands seemed to have no effect and she spent so much time trying to dodge the countless swift thrusts and jabs directed at her that she barely had chance to use them.

She glanced at the old man and he seemed to be faring almost as badly as she was. He was trying to deal with three of the attackers and they occasionally landed their vicious blows, but he absorbed each strike with a shudder and then continue to thrash his gnarled fists around.

She suddenly knew that her fractional loss of concentration was going to cost her dearly. One of her wrists had been caught fast and she saw, in terrible slow motion, a claw arching down towards her face.

Michael’s silver arm appeared and parried the killing blow. He twisted around and levered her arm from the clutches of the other claw and then tumbled to the ground with her assailant. She watched for a second, before sensing another attack from her side. She whirled to meet it.

So the battle continued without let up or quarter given. Spokes found herself pulled out of the path of a fatal blow a few times more before she started to catch the tempo of the fight properly.

Then abruptly the fighting stopped and a melancholy wail rose from the sudden silence. Spokes looked around and saw that Michael had killed one of the attackers. His face was contorted in agony, but the dead Delphixian wore a serene and peaceful smile. A ghostly glowing outline steamed out of the body. The old man beckoned to the ethereal shape and it drifted slowly across the battlefield to him. He gently embraced the spirit and then kissed it. The ghostly figure faded until the old man was left holding nothing.

No one moved for what seemed like an age. In that time Spokes had time to reassess the forces facing each other. The Delphixians looked fresh and strong completely unburdened by fatigue, while all of her companions were wounded in some way. Some were so badly injured that they could barely stand and she thought that the battle would be over almost as soon as it started again.

The silence continued until a dog behind Spokes growled suddenly and the melee began again. This time however Spokes thought the Delphixians lacked a little of their previous ferocious conviction, whereas she and her allies were fighting with the savage desperation of the damned.

It wasn’t long before another Delphixian fell. This time the old man claimed his smiling victim quickly and there was less of a lull in the battle, but the Delphixians became even more languorous, as if they were trying not to fight, and confidence rippled through the exhausted beasts and people.

Delphixians fell more and more frequently now, and Spokes expected them to start retreating at any moment, but they continued their reluctant battling. She knew now that they were not fighting to win; they were fighting to die. And that made her wonder what miracle the old man was performing when he administered their final kiss.

Before long the last of the Delphixians fell and Spokes was sure he heard him whisper a faint “Thank you” as his ghost disappeared. She looked around the narrow gorge that had become a battleground and saw smoking craters and the bodies of the fallen and injured. Already the old man was walking among the wounded laying his hands upon them and miraculously healing their injuries. Spokes could barely stand with the weight of fatigue bearing down on her along with the numerous aches and pains that she had collected from the battle.

Michael settled next to her.

“What happened here?” Spokes asked. “We shouldn’t have won. They could have beaten us easily.”

“They wanted to lose.” Michael’s voice was awash with emotion, but she was unsure of his mood.

“Why?”

“You’ll have to ask the old man that question. But I sensed that we were not the only adversary they were fighting.”

The old man came and sat down next to them. “I need to thank you two.”

“You do not need to thank me,” said Michael quietly. “I will never be able to repay you for the release you have given to my brothers and sisters. I am in your debt.”

“I just brought them home, Michael. Now they are where they belong, although it will take some time before you can meet with them again.”

“But that will be possible?” Michael’s whole body glowed for a second, illuminating the area around them and Spokes realised that the sun was setting. The battle had lasted longer than she thought.

The old man smiled again. “You are a strange one. Something unnatural prevented us from meeting sooner, but instead of harming you, it seems to have tied you closer to the essence of Trinity Vale. You and your brethren will be a valuable asset to us.”

As the two of them continued to talk, Spokes sat gazing into the darkening sky. All around her she could hear snorts and growls, but she knew there was nothing to be afraid of.

She had spent a huge portion of her life in virtual reality. Her accident had left her dependant on her wheelchair. But online, where there were no physical laws, she was free. Her mind was strong, and had become used to the volatile shifting environments and ideas the Internet hosted. It was odd to think that there had been a virtual world long before the clunky efforts of the first software engineers.

And this virtual realm was inseparably interconnected with the real world. The living creatures of the world hosted it, just like computers host web sites, although as she understood it this world acted more like an operating system. The computing power required to manage a system as complex and vast as the Earth was only achieved by utilising every brain in existence.

Michael seated himself cross-legged next to her and she watched the old man’s back as he went to comfort an injured tiger.

“Did you know about all this, Michael?” She turned to face him.

Michael shook his head slowly. “We could all sense this place while we were prisoners.” He sighed. “But we had no real idea of what it was.”

“Do you believe that if this world is destroyed then the real world will not survive?”

“It makes sense to me. When I contemplate the physical world that you inhabit, it seems that you are living a very precarious existence. A minuscule increase or decrease in the ratio of oxygen in the atmosphere would change the biosphere immeasurably, perhaps turn the world into a wasteland, and yet complex life has remained stable for hundreds of millions of years. It just seems too perfect to be managed by chance.”

The old man joined them and threw a few more thick branches onto the fire. “I have something to show you. A reward of sorts, but also an illustration of what you are fighting to protect.”

A young boy, perhaps twelve years old, emerged from out of the shadows.

“Tom?” Spokes mouthed. No sound came from her dry mouth. She scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms around her dead brother’s shoulders. “Oh, Tom. I’m so sorry.”

Tom hugged her back. “It’s okay Frankie. I’m happy here. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

Spokes’ pressed her cheek against his shirt and held tighter trying not to let her crying get out of control. “How is this possible?” She managed to say eventually through her clenched jaw.

“He is still alive in your memories and the thoughts of every person who ever came into contact with him. These living minds are more than enough to keep him alive forever here.” The old man looked up at her.

She pushed Tom away so that she was holding him at arms length and studied his youthful face. Everything was perfect and she knew that this was more than a mere recreation of her brother.