Rebels rule sim verse bo.., p.1
Rebel's Rule (Sim-Verse Book 3), page 1
REBEL’S RULE
Sim-Verse: Book 3
ALLEN KUZARA
Copyright © 2019 by Allen Kuzara
All rights reserved.
“the stream of knowledge is heading towards a non-mechanical reality; the Universe begins to look more like a great thought than like a great machine. Mind no longer appears to be an accidental intruder into the realm of matter... we ought rather hail it as the creator and governor of the realm of matter.”
― Sir James Jeans
“I’m not a materialist anymore. I don’t think the world is made out of matter. I think it’s made out of what matters.”
― jordan b. peterson
CHAPTER 1
TAVEN TRIED TO move. He was coming to, awakening somewhere, and he had that now familiar feeling that he’d just traveled through a portal. His consciousness was sluggish. He knew he was himself, that he existed, and he had enough awareness to believe that he had recently traveled. But from where and to where was still hazy. Plus, he couldn’t yet see.
He became increasingly aware of his confinement, something that wasn’t usually part of this experience. He tried to lift his hands, but he hit something hard, only inches in front of him. Then he felt the weight of his body shift to his backside, and he realized he was lying down. He tried to rise, and his head hit, ostensibly, the same unseen object his hands had struck.
Then, slowly, his vision returned, except it was still unclear what he was seeing. Bright lights glared before him, and after a moment of squinting he realized they were the overhead lights to whatever room he was in.
A shimmer caught his eye, and he recognized the hard surface before him; it was a clear glass covering. Then, like walls collapsing on him, Taven had a rush of recognition. He was inside one of the hibernation tubes, those eternal vaults like those he’d discovered on the Hudson.
He panicked, tried to raise his hand, grabbing at the tubes in his mouth and nose, but he was constrained. His arms and legs were tied down with harnesses. He writhed in fear, trying to free himself.
Then a spasm started in his throat. It wasn’t a cough. The tubes down his esophagus wouldn’t allow it. Not yet.
He gagged, his choking reflex engaged to the max. Despite his limited mobility, his body convulsed, flailing to get free until Taven’s fingers touched something. There was a flash of hope as he began pulling at the small cords.
As he did, the hoses in his mouth and nose drew tighter, and with hurried motions, he pulled on the gag inducing cables, inch by inch, until finally spewing them out of his mouth in one last reflexive purge.
Taven gasped for air, the remaining hose still up one nostril no longer a priority. Once his throat calmed, he began yelling for help. His own voice bounced back at him, seeming incredibly loud inside the translucent coffin. It startled him, but he knew he had to keep trying.
Right as his throat began to spasm again from the exertion, Taven saw movement. It was out of his field of vision now, the solid side of the hibernation tube blocking his sight. But he had seen it. Something.
He yelled again, but then a shadow stood over him, blocking the lights with their body.
“Who’s there? Get me out of—”
He stopped, his eyes adjusting to the change of light. It was Cat, her shoulder-length black hair falling down and forward as she bent over him. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking. And he tried to speak but couldn’t.
He was lost in her green eyes that seemed to pull him upward, impossibly, through the glass. He heard a ringing in his ears grow louder and louder until it seemed like there was an alarm sounding inside his hibernation tube. But, despite the noise, he couldn’t break away from her gaze. She had him, like a king cobra hypnotizing its prey, and there was nothing he could do about it.
CHAPTER 2
“TAVEN.” HE FELT a gentle push on his side. And he suddenly realized he was somewhere else. Taven opened his eyes just as Amy pushed him again. She had Evelynn under one arm, the child giggling and laughing while her mother remained stern faced.
“I’m okay,” Taven said, sitting up.
Amy took Evelynn back to the kiddie pool a couple of steps away. The little lass was dressed in all the appropriate sun repelling swim clothes: a cloth-brimmed hat with chin strap, a long-sleeved shirt, and swimmy diapers. Evelynn squealed with delight as she returned to the water, splashing her hands with contentedness.
Amy turned back to Taven. She wore sunglasses, a floppy straw hat, and a swimsuit, and Taven thought that if she had been in a better mood, if they could somehow get away from Evelynn for an hour—heck, ten minutes would do—that maybe they could make love.
“It was her, wasn’t it?” she said, ruining his fantasy.
Taven stood up, getting out from under the umbrella. He stepped into the sunlight and stretched. “Just a bad dream,” he said. He stuck his finger in one ear and shook it, the ringing still there. It was always there now.
He felt better, being here instead of in that nightmare. And his unease continued to evaporate like the once wet clothes that hung on the nearby picket fence. Then he had another flash of concern: where was his blaster? He turned back and saw it sitting on the small glass table next to the chair.
“Don’t let Evelynn…” he started.
Amy’s expression shifted. She looked offended by the notion that she would let her child near the weapon. Of course, they’d argued over Taven bringing the blaster in the first place. And he’d put his foot down, not willing to take chances in another simulation with the lives of the two most important people to him in the Sim-Verse. Amy had said he was taking a chance with their lives by bringing it.
He picked up the blaster, but instead of holstering it—he wasn’t wearing one of those over his swim trunks and shirt—Taven placed it on the highest surface he could find: the top of the brick retaining wall beside the pool.
It was taking him a while to let his guard down, to fully relax here in this seemingly safe, tranquil sub sim. These little vacations had once seemed like just a perk of the job, and, of course, they were. But they were also becoming necessary. The tension of exploring so many sims with sometimes hostile inhabitants was taking its toll on Taven’s nerves.
Meyer Corp had put him to work just as he’d expected, pulling longer hours than his contract had stated. The rub was that when you spend so much time in a sub simulation—hours or days even—and only minutes pass in Earth’s primary simulation … well, it didn’t take long for Taven to catch on to the corporation’s accounting scheme. Sub sim duty didn’t count towards overtime. It was only the ticking clock inside Meyer Corp’s headquarters that mattered.
But fortunately, those were the early missions, ones where he and Mack had scouted out new sims. When they’d discovered one with considerable technology or resources, they’d work to establish trade agreements. Taven had to get used to lying. You couldn’t exactly tell people you were from another world or that their world was a computer-generated simulation. Not if you wanted to be taken seriously and do business.
Those trade missions were tiresome for obvious reasons. But lately, Meyer Corp had realized that Taven had another ability they weren’t previously aware of. Not even Taven had realized it before. When the corporation sent out teams without Taven, they all ran into a common snag: language. People in other sims didn’t speak Commerce. But every time Taven entered a sim, people did.
Quickly, it was postulated that Gatekeepers relied upon some unconscious auto-translation ability, which made sense to Taven. Everything he’d learned thus far suggested that Gatekeeper abilities existed for two reasons: to stop people from jumping to other sims, and to stop them fast. The Makers had created Meta and the Gatekeepers to police the Sim-Verse and had set up incentives for Gatekeepers to get their jobs done as quickly as possible. All citizens of Meta cared about were their constructs and relative immortality, both of which were compromised the longer they spent time in primary sims.
With the auto-translation discovery in mind, Meyer Corp began shifting Taven’s load, having him front run all missions to new simulations. He’d simply jump through, stand around a bit, and jump back home. Seconds later, the next team would use some of the stolen Seeker vessels—how they got those is another story—to jump to the new sim where the auto-translation program was already running in the background. No problems.
It was an easy task, but Taven considered it a major step down, pure drudgery even. It was perfunctory, busy work, and once Meyer Corp had gotten their bearings and ramped up their operations, it seemed all he did was front run missions.
Taven stepped around the pool and stood by the fence that overlooked the valley below. He couldn’t see past the clouds that drifted up through this boreal forest, so he turned, leaned his back against the fence, and admired the mountain lodge he’d managed to rent for his family. He thought about how much had changed in the few weeks since officially starting his new position at Meyer Corp, how Amy had been able to quit her job, and how they’d gotten used to their new lives in Montreux. And even these jaunts to other worlds had started to seem normal.
But even in other worlds, some things didn’t change, the need for money being one of them. Weeks ago, when he’d first imagined taking sub sim vacations that represented only tiny blips of time in Earth’s primary timeline, he’d forgotten entirely the need for money. Places like these weren’t free after all. People, whether in a sub sim or primary world, had to build them, maintain them, and so on. And even though Meyer Corp was paying him handsomely, unfortunately the auto-translate program didn’t work with currency exchange.
But like all problems, there were solutions. And Taven, in his off time, explored the Ghost City’s index of sub sims, learning where the best spots were and what kinds of private trades he could set up. Often the trade agreements struck between Meyer Corp and off-Earth entities were the starting point for such side hustles. One world wanted jewels. Another wanted technology. And yet another wanted art.
What he noticed about the Sim-Verse was that each simulation was the best at something, had an abundance of it and was simultaneously suffering scarcity of another commodity or valued resource. He figured it was all the Makers’ doing, how they’d set things up at the beginning. It was the point of the Sim-Verse itself, he thought, a grand experiment, granular enough to see long-term impacts of single resource variables.
Taven began thinking the same thing was true about people; everyone was their world’s expert at something. But most didn’t know what they were truly great at, and not every mundane expertise was easy to monetize. People also had accompanying deficiencies that offset their talents. Some, like physical handicaps, were explicit and obvious. But most, it seemed to Taven, were partially hidden, blind spots of which individuals were rarely, if ever, aware: a short temper, an addiction, some social or cognitive hang up. From Taven’s unique vantage point, this differential of scarcity and abundance was a universal constant in the Sim-Verse. So, once he’d worked out a few angles, trade became like printing money.
Meyer Corp could say the same thing. They were making money hand over fist. But Taven wasn’t so foolish as to mention his side trading activities to the corporation. He knew there had to be some clause against it in his contract. But he wasn’t hurting their business. There was plenty to go around, and he couldn’t imagine that changing any time soon.
Taven watched Evelynn continue playing in the six-inch-deep kiddie pool. It reminded him of Iris and how she’d played in the ocean, though she had been ten-plus years older than his little girl. He wished he could escape in play the way they could. Of course, considering what ended up happening to Iris, maybe the whole ignorance is bliss approach wasn’t the right one. Maybe a little worry, a little fear, kept you alive.
“The porter said there’s a festival starting tomorrow down in the valley,” Amy said, interrupting his ruminations. “Something about games. Apparently, it’s a big deal. We should go.”
“That could be nice,” Taven said, noncommittally. Just then, Evelynn stood up fast and slipped onto her bottom. She began to cry, ending their conversation.
Taven was thankful for the distraction. Though he was no fan of crying kids—the high-pitched screeching distorted in his already ringing ears—he had no desire for mingling down in the city below. Movement, constant movement. That’s what his life had become. And what he needed most was places like this where he could be still long enough to feel whole again.
He moved to the pool’s edge, considering getting into the shallow water with his daughter. Maybe a distraction would help her forget her fall, he thought. But before he did, he noticed his reflection in the water. There was that long scar across his cheek, the one he liked to forget about. But today, it was a comforting sight. The mark reminded him that he wasn’t in a construct, wasn’t lost like those aboard the Hudson. Somehow, as fantastic and unreal as the Sim-Verse could seem, it was the imperfections and even pain that helped ground Taven. It was what made things feel real, whatever that meant.
Suddenly, he heard a splattering sound and saw a flash of light bright enough to be noticed under the midday sun. He looked to Amy and saw her startled expression. The flash had come from the other side of the house, and all of Taven’s tension, all that he had carefully unwound over the past several days, came right back to the boiling point.
He dashed across the kiddie pool, slipping and almost falling as he ran. Evelynn erupted in laughter, not understanding the gravity of the situation.
Taven grabbed his blaster from the retaining wall, spun around it, and sprinted up the grassy side yard. When he’d rounded the next corner of the lodge, he saw a single snail-shaped Seeker craft.
Just then, the vessel hissed, releasing gas, and the door inched open. Taven clicked off his blaster’s safety switch and raised it toward the craft as the scissor-hinged door swung open wide.
“Don’t shoot,” said a familiar voice.
Taven dropped his aim, bent over with his hands on his knees, and said, “Whew, I’m glad it’s you instead of … ” He let that one go, preferring to catch his breath.
He looked back up, expecting one of Mack Carter’s sarcastic quips, but Mack wasn’t smiling. “What is it?” Taven asked.
“Boss, we gotta problem.”
CHAPTER 3
THE SHIMMERING DISK remained open as Taven turned to Amy and said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“And when do you think that will be?” she asked, turning her back to him as she chased Evelynn who had scurried past her toward the open balcony door. They were back in their new home in Montreux. She scooped up the child in her arms, turning her upside down. Evelynn’s hair fell, covering her face as she giggled.
It frustrated Taven that Amy could seem totally fine, happy even, with their daughter one moment and still reserve disdain for him the next. It seemed intentional, something controlled by her will rather than blind emotion. And it made him want to call her out on it, accuse her of holding an unnecessary grudge against him. But he knew better than to start a fight right before leaving.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “There’s a problem, and they want me to solve it.”
Taven understood why Amy was peeved about having to end their vacation early, but at least they went on vacations now. Couldn’t she appreciate the better life they had? Maybe, Taven figured, he was still paying for prior sins from when he’d been gone for months astro-mining the Belt. He could now travel anywhere in the Sim-Verse in the blink of an eye, but he still couldn’t outrun his past.
Amy placed Evelynn on the floor and grabbed an electronic drawing canvas from the table next to her and wiped yesterday’s—or was it last week’s?—drawing clean with the wave of her hand. The little girl took the canvas and toggled swiftly through various tabs until pulling up a holographic projection of one of her saved pictures. “See?” she said, proudly.
“That’s great, Sweetie,” Taven said. “Draw me a new one, for when I get back. Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” came Evelynn’s tender voice. Then, happily, she began drawing a new picture. Taven swallowed the lump in his throat along with the bitter feelings of guilt for having to leave his little girl one more time.
“Be careful,” Amy said, finally locking eyes with him. Her arms were crossed, and Taven decided not to chance an awkward hug or kiss goodbye.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, turning to face the shimmering disk. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be working in a sub sim and I’ll be back before you know it.”
He didn’t wait for a response, believing she’d probably cast doubt on the proposition. He stepped through the disk and welcomed the brief loss of consciousness. It was like passing through sleep, refreshing in a way. The shorter the distance, the less foggy it was on the other side. But there was always a reset, a chance to let unpleasant thoughts sift down into the recesses of your mind.
Taven came to inside the Braun Orbiter, Meyer Corp’s main headquarters and their largest space station in orbit around Earth. He was inside what had once been their largest hangar bay, where all mining craft had been built and maintained. But now, things were different. Not only had Meyer Corp shifted its production and maintenance operations to multiple subsidiary stations, they had changed the interior of this bay, closing off all but one of the main hangar doors and partitioning the massive room into several smaller sections.
The hangar bay had been walled off for two main reasons, Taven knew. First was because of the reduced space traffic. The ongoing mining missions to the Belt all started and ended elsewhere. The mining venture now was mostly for show, a front to legitimize the inordinate profits Meyer Corp made through inter-simulation trade. And the single bay door that remained in the Braun Orbiter was sufficient for the few craft that came and went.
