Bitter Ch. 521-525 (Patreon)

It wasn’t like Dad hadn’t already encountered some pretty amazing technical achievements lately.

Not just the game, which was a massive upgrade from anything the computer world had ever created, but he’s spoken to the AI who controlled it. AI who were so real, it was hard to distinguish them from humans.

He had also met with the Chinese and seen the technology they had access to. They treated gadgets you’d expect to find in a science fiction movie with laser blasters and teleporters as though they were mundane items they would probably throw away after a couple of uses.

None of that had made him tear up.

But this was in his own home, upstairs in his daughter’s bedroom. It might only seem a small thing, to be able to talk to a laptop instead of pressing keys or using a mouse, not just to play a song or find a phone number, but it was a shift from one mindset to another.

Anyone who had used a modern device that pretended to follow orders would quickly be able to tell they were merely programmed to recognise simple tasks, not parse language; and any complex requests would be rejected not because they weren’t doable, but because they couldn’t be understood.

Language could easily be broken down into rules, the problem was, people ignored most of them when speaking.

The laptop was different. This was technology as an extension rather than just a cleverly assigned hotkey. There was a sense that new ground had been broken.

Britta didn’t entirely share what she considered to a bit of an overreaction on Dad’s part, but she did appreciate why he was so filled with awe and wonder. This was his thing.

He had spent his life dreaming about a future that was just like the science-fiction shows he watched as a child. There were already smartphones and powerful PCs when he was a kid, so it seemed a distinct possibility that by the time he reached adulthood, you would be able to walk into a kitchen and say the name of your preferred beverage, and it would materialise on the kitchen table.

Sadly, life did not conform to nerd wish-fulfilment fantasies, that was what Hollywood was for.

Dad’s other lifelong dream of sharing a bedroom with Jean-Luc Picard was also highly unlikely to come true, although he had somehow convinced his parents to get him a bunk bed for his room.

“Stunning,” said Dad. “We should find out what this machine is capable of. I bet you’ve only scratched the surface. I’d love to take this baby apart.”

The screen flickered.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It probably has all sorts of security features.” She leaned over the keyboard to take a closer look at the keyboard. “Probably has a self-defence system, too.” She straightened up having not found any signs of tiny gun turrets hidden beneath the keys. “And I bet they’re listening to everything we say and know exactly what we’re up to.” Her relationship with the computer was a wary one. It was just a loaner, it still answered to its true masters.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Dad, which was strange coming from him, the man who was forever complaining about Big Brother keeping tabs on everyone for nefarious purposes. “This is an amazing thing to have access to. It’s worth the loss of privacy.”

Maybe. When you didn’t have anything worth hiding from people, who cared what they found out? She could hardly be blackmailed into selling out her country or giving away trade secrets. The people spying on her were the only ones she had any information about.

Dad stood up and came closer. “The first thing to do is get all the information we can on these guys.” He pointed at the players still running around on the screen. “How did they get so good? Where is their equipment from? How are they moving around New World?”

“Okay,” said Britta. “And then what? Are you going to become like them?”

“Me? No, I feel tired just watching them. Look at them jumping around like that. They’re using melee and spells together, and spin kicks and somersaults, all at the same time. Crazy. What class are they? What level? It’s like they’ve unlocked so many more secrets than us.”

“And you’re going to find out what they are?”

“I’m going to try,” said Dad. “And then I’m going to make a video sharing what I find with everyone. That’s how you neutralise an advantage, you spread the information far and wide. Get everyone up to the same level.”

“Because you want everyone to be equal?”

“No, no. Because nothing annoys hardcore gamers like being the same as everyone else.” He grinned at her.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you kept the information to yourself?” said Britta. “Then you could be like them and they’d be the only competition.”

“The problem with elitism like that,” said Dad, “is that you’re forced to spend your time with other elitists. And, trust me, they aren’t pleasant company. There are people in this world who are special and it’s rewarding to be around them, and then there are people who want to be special and keep telling you they are but never actually do anything very remarkable. They think being in a cool club means they must be cool. APE was full of those kinds of people.”

Britta pointed at the computer. “They probably heard that.”

“What?” said Dad, realising she was probably right. “I mean, I was talking about the people who used to work there, not now, back when I was… ah, never mind all that. The important thing is to know as much as we can about the people ahead of us, or we’ll never catch up. The game just got interesting, really interesting. We don’t want to get left behind.”

“I don’t really care,” said Britta. “I’ve got my physics tutor coming in a bit, and it’s not like anyone’s going to be clearing the second level raids anytime soon. Not even them.”

The players on-screen had a large ogre to in perpetual stun and were whittling down his HP.

“Yes, you’re right. You have more important things to worry about. I, however, do not. Computer. Give me a list of the names of the players currently on the screen.” He spoke in a clear, slightly posher than normal voice. The computer didn’t respond.

“We’re not on the bridge of the Star Trek Enterprise, Dad.”

“Starship Enterprise, sweetheart. Starship. Please don’t say that again, even though I know you were trying to get a rise out of your old dad. Some things are not to be joked about.”

Britta rolled her eyes and turned to the computer. “How many of the players have you identified?”

“Ten,” said the computer.

“Email the list to my father. Do you need his email address.”

“It is on record.”

Dad’s phone buzzed. He looked at it, smiling like it was a magical device he’d never seen before. “Now for some good old fashioned detective work.” He looked longingly at the laptop. “It would be a lot easier if I had one of those.”

“You could ask Lin for one.”

“Oh, no. I’d be too scared. She frightens me.”

It was a somewhat feeble thing for a grown man to admit, but Britta understood completely. Lin carried an air of utter superiority with her that was hard to not feel pressured by. She was one of those special people who didn’t need to remind you of the fact, her presence did it automatically. She was indeed a frightening woman. And everything Britta aspired to be.

Dad went off to begin his investigation and Britta went downstairs to prepare for her tutor. She used the dining room as her study, arranging books and pens so she had easy access to everything she needed.

She sat waiting with her phone out. She always turned it to silent mode before a lesson, not that anyone ever called her, but it felt polite and professional. Since she had a few minutes, Britta decided to send Lin a text about the Peerless Online Warriors.

It didn’t feel important enough to bother Lin with a call. She was probably in the middle of doing something far more interesting than anything Britta had to talk about. Even though she had said it was okay to call her whenever and for whatever, Britta still felt awkward doing it.

The text just asked if Lin was aware of the team and if they had been sanctioned to make videos. Lin could answer in her own time. Britta put the phone away.

Professor Madley rang the doorbell at seven on the dot. He was always punctual. He set his walking stick in the corner before sitting down, his gaze wandering across the dining table with what Britta considered to be approval. He was a retired university teacher, so not technically a professor anymore, but the title suited him so well it would be odd to call him anything else.

“Can I get you anything before we start, Professor?” Britta asked. “A drink? Tea?”

“No, thank you.” He picked up a book and turned it over like he was making an appraisal of an antique. Britta had PDF versions of all her required textbooks, but the school still gave out the real things and it felt better having them here. It made it feel more intellectual. “I have to tell you, Britta, since our last lesson I decided to do a little research on my own time, to get a better idea of the kinds of questions they ask of the children of the current era. Don’t worry, there won’t be any extra charge.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.

“What kind of research?” She sat down opposite him. “Old exam papers?”

“Exactly, exactly. I used to be quite the thorough researcher in my day, even if I do say so myself. I approached the analysis of the unknown with a serious mind, and let me tell you, young woman, it was a very depressing experience.” He shook his head disparagingly.

The professor was an old man who liked to waffle a bit, but he was an expert on all matters related to physics and an excellent explainer of complicated concepts. His occasional forays into the state of the world were his roundabout way of warming up for the business of teaching.

“You don’t think they’re teaching the right things in the syllabus?”

“It’s not what they’re teaching, it’s how they’re teaching them. Learning by rote and regurgitating what you’ve memorised seemed to be the goal. Horrendous way to teach the young. And if you can’t remember the answer, not to worry, it’s multiple choice, so just have a guess.”

He seemed quite upset about what he’d discovered lurking inside the school curriculum.

“You don’t shape a young mind for greatness by filling it with knowledge, you have to teach it how to take small building blocks and construct beautiful structures from them, so it can learn to build for itself, to think for itself. Look at the great minds from our past who had only limited information, but from which they were able to extrapolate the mysteries of the universe, all without leaving the comfort of their study. You have to understand first principles and then go from there.”

Britta didn’t disagree, but it did seem a little impractical. “I suppose it would be too expensive to try and give everyone the time and attention it would take to understand everything from the ground up.”

“Ah, you’ve hit it on the head, there. Money. Always money. It hasn’t really changed as much as I’d like to think, has it?” He shook his head again, this time at himself. “The same in my day, people scrambling to find funding. The joy of discovery turned into the joy of winning another grant. At least there are still children like you, with good parents willing to invest in the future.”

Britta was sure her parents would love to know how well-regarded they were by the professor. She could tell him a few stories that might make him change his mind, though. They weren’t bad parents, by any means, but she often wondered if their sudden weekend breaks — which they’d been taking since she and her sister were old enough to be left alone — were motivated by romantic longing for each other or a desire to get away from their beloved offspring.

“Time and attention,” the professor muttered to himself. “They tell us the youth of today don’t have the attention span. I say it’s all an excuse to avoid trying. Look at these computer games they play, hours on end glued to a screen. The designers of those games have learned how to harness the attention of their customers. It’s a shame those people don’t use their abilities to educate people instead of tranquillizing them.”

School designed by video game devs? It would be an interesting thing to experience, but she doubted they would end up being much better. The bugs would be annoying.

“It’s almost as though somebody decided to only let the really clever boys and girls learn anything of value, and simply gave everyone else the illusion of good grades. First principles, that’s how you learn. Take the same basic knowledge that Pythagoras or Newton had, and reproduce their results from scratch, you see? It’s the only way to ensure true understanding. Great minds have shown us the heavens, but if you wish to stand on the shoulders of giants, you need to learn how to climb up there. Not simply relying on call and response testing like you’re training a sheepdog.” He smiled rather sadly. “Oh dear, just listen to me going on like some blasted conspiracy nut. I’m not one of those people who think the moon landings were faked, don’t worry. Now, where were we? Oh yes, the moon. Tell me, how would you work out how far the moon is from us, like our friend Aristarchus did?”

He led her through the basic calculations and a little ancient history to be able to create her own calculations. She might be living in the future, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn a thing or two from the past.

It was fun to learn with Professor Madley. Even though she had no real interest in learning the distance of the moon from the Earth (or the circumference or the volume), and it would have been a lot easier to simply google the answer, it was an interesting exercise to slowly work it out herself.

The way the professor clarified how each principle worked and how it gave her the information she needed made the whole things much clearer in her head. There really was a difference between knowing and understanding. Not that you couldn’t end up in the same place from more traditional teaching methods, but this way she started in the right place and built from there.

And the most pleasing part of it was getting the answer, the one she had no real interest in finding. Doing all the extra work no modern student would be required to do gave her an immense feeling of satisfaction when she produced a final answer. It wasn’t just correct, it was hers.

The writing in her notebook made sense. And it wasn’t just a way to find out random measurements of celestial objects, she could apply it to anything.

“You’ve done very well, so far,” said Professor Madley. “It does get more complicated, but I think you’ll be fine. You seem to have a knack for this kind of progressive thinking. Good brain — try to keep it that way.”

Perhaps physics was the direction she should take her career ambitions. It was something she found enjoyable, but she wasn’t truly passionate about it.

She wasn’t particularly passionate about anything. How did you find your passion if it didn’t jump out and make itself known? Keep trying different things until something popped? Or did you have to get to an advanced stage before you could appreciate what you were dealing with?

After the professor left, Britta checked her phone. She had to force herself to remember to do things like this because she never had a reason to normally. Hardly anyone ever called her. There was a text from Lin, replying to the question about the Chinese players.

Hello Britta. Yes, the POW team is known to us. They have been allowed the same video recording privileges as your father. Actually, because of your father. The success of his videos has led to a number of players being given access to the same ability to upload videos of their gameplay. We hope to introduce all the different approaches to the game before the next round of inductions. The aim is to double the player base within the next few months.

It had been sent a few minutes after Britta had sent her text. She hoped Lin didn’t think she’d been ignoring her.

From the sounds of it, they were planning to bring in new players fairly soon, which would certainly make people happy. Until they realised how far behind they were, especially when it came to the Chinese players. Then there’d be the next round of complaints and rage. Unfair, unbalanced, injustice. A free fashion item in everyone’s inbox would probably solve the problem.

The text didn’t say anything about how the Chinese team were able to switch between regions, though. Or why that was allowed.

Britta had a moment of doubt about contacting Lin again but brushed the thought aside. This was just a text, not a big intrusion. She was supposed to contact Lin if she had questions, that was why she was in the country. Well, one of the reasons. It was hard to make herself feel deserving of her position. What she had to realise, what she tried to convince herself, was that it had nothing to do with what you deserved. It was simpler than that, more binary. You either had the job or you didn’t. She had been offered the role and he had taken it. Every decision she now made was underpinned by that.

She sent her query about the cross-region travel and got a response almost immediately.

That’s always been possible. You can cross regions from any of the major cities. It’s expensive in terms of game currency, and there are issues with language differences that need to be overcome, but anyone can do it. You are allowed to go where you want.

Freedom for all, it seemed. And an advantage for whoever figured it out first. Did that mean players from one region would end up dominating another? It felt like there was probably more to it than simply running around grabbing all the best low-level quests for yourself. Although it did seem to be working out very well for the Chinese team.

It didn’t really affect her, but it was interesting. Everyone was new to the game and how to make full use of what it had to offer. Strategies were bound to evolve. People were still figuring out how to play. First principles had to be worked out with no one to show you the way.

Britta packed up her books and had dinner with Mum. Dad had disappeared into his shed and it was impossible to say when he would resurface. Once enamoured of an idea, he became obsessive. She had no doubt he would track down the Chinese players, but then what?

There was a third text from Lin when she got back to her bedroom. This one was short.

You’re doing an excellent job. Everyone on my end is very happy with your performance.

Britta was immediately suspicious. She wasn’t used to random compliments and encouragement. And when she had received them, there was always an ulterior motive. It became apparent early on in her life when a girl would compliment her on a hair ribbon or her shoes, and then ask for a favour. If Britta turned down the favour, for any number of legitimate reasons, the compliment would not only be taken back, it would be reversed.

“And your shoes aren’t pretty, they make you look like you have polio.”

She made it a point to always refuse favours from that point on. If they accepted the refusal with good grace, she would say there’d been a change of plans and help them. But they never did.

Was Lin being genuinely nice, or was she after something? Perhaps Britta was overthinking it. It would be nice to be genuinely appreciated, but even if it was an attempt to flatter her and win her confidence, it at least meant she was considered a valuable asset.

There was a special assembly on Tuesday morning. The school only held assemblies in the main hall at the start and end of term. Most public announcements were made online and there was no reason to gather everyone together other than school spirit. Celebrating a win at the county athletics meet and the like.

The headmaster, Mr Jenkins, stood alone on stage. Usually, there’d be prefects and other teachers up there with him. The students mumbled and muttered as they sat waiting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs to find out what was going on.

“Quiet, please. Thank you, that’s enough. Don’t worry, this will be short. It’s been brought to my attention that there have been some unfortunate incidents with regard to bullying.” He paused to add weight to his words.

The kids were quiet, waiting to find out what kind of bullying he was referring to. An assembly to chastise the students was one of the reasons to call an assembly. Last time it had been because of a complaint that students in school uniform hadn’t been giving up their seats on buses when an elderly person needed it. Such things needed to be said face to face.

“As you know, we don’t tolerate any kind of physical altercation between students, under any circumstances. There’s no need for it and no justification for hurting a fellow student regardless of the provocation.”

He was stern and clear in what he expected of his students, but he still hadn’t told them what had triggered this speech.

“The current issue appears to stem around a video game.” There was a murmur from the crowd. “Apparently, there is some jealousy and resentment about who has the game and who hasn’t. I have no interest in your choice of entertainments — in my day, we used to have to play in the same room to punch each other in the face with combos — made for a more social activity.” There was some light laughter around the room. “I am not completely ancient. I understand the appeal of video games and I don’t ascribe to the notion that violence on screen translates to violence in real life. But let me be clear, anyone threatening or harming another student over such matters will be expelled immediately. And anyone retaliating, will also face severe consequences. These things can quickly get out of hand. If you are accosted, report the matter to a teacher. They will take care of it.”

This was really due to the game? At least they were stepping in early, but Britta wasn’t entirely reassured. As someone who had encountered bullying, she knew how ineffective teachers were. It was never so simple. It was hard to provide proof, or witnesses (even when there had been many). It usually came down to one person’s word against another’s.

She wondered if this was all due to the incident yesterday. It sounded like there had been additional incidents. Did that mean more people had the game, or that more people had attacked Rick? Something must have happened to require a special assembly, but it wasn’t like people were rioting in the hallways. Not enough people had the game to be bullied about it. Although, that was about to change.

The assembly was a firm wag of the finger and clear directions about what was expected. The students filed out chattering, not really showing much concern.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened during the day. Regular classes with regular chatter all around her. The game was still a major topic of conversation, but as with most trends, other trends soon took over.

Britta went home on the bus as usual. She had her French tutor coming over tonight and she was looking forward to it. Being able to hold a conversation in another language made her feel like she was getting somewhere. Growing. She wondered how many languages Lin could speak. She didn’t need to speak any, the translation glasses could do it for her, but Britta just knew that made no difference. She was bound to be fluent in several.

As she got off at her stop and headed down the road, she had the feeling she was being followed. When she stopped to check, there was no one there. It was still light out and she wasn’t scared — there were people walking ahead of her and on the other side of the road, plus all the cars passing — but she had the distinct impression that there was someone watching her.

She had never been the paranoid sort, and people were much more likely to ignore her than show her undue attention. She decided it was just a random glitch in her radar.

After another few minutes, she spun around and caught some movement behind a tree. Someone had jumped behind it to hide from view, she was sure of it.

Why? Who would want to follow her? The assembly that morning came to mind. What if someone had found out she had access to the game? Would they want to beat her up over it? No, that would be ridiculous. This wasn’t some crazy battlefield where kids fought to claim victory and then did a moronic dance to celebrate.

She started walking towards the tree. If they wanted to fight her, she wouldn’t report it to her teachers, she would call the police. She had her phone in her hand, ready.

Britta peered around the tree. A boy was standing there with big glasses and bruises on his face.

“What are you doing, Rick?”

The boy was looking away, like a child who thought if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him.

“Nothing. What do you want?” He had a squeaky voice and he sounded like he could do with a drink of water.

“You’re the one following me,” she said.

“No. Not following. I was just… visiting someone near here.”

He was a terrible liar. “Behind this tree?” she asked him.

He looked up, as though he hadn’t realised it was a tree he was standing behind. Then his face changed to a more determined look. He straightened up, while still managing to seem slouched, and faced Britta.

“I know about your dad.”

Britta was taken by surprise. She hadn’t expected Dad to be part of this conversation. “Know what?”

“I know he’s got the game, and I want you to take me to him.”

He wasn’t interested in her, he was following her home so he could talk to Dad. It was getting weirder all the time.

“Who told you that?” she asked, although who could it be other than Lewis? He had wanted to make friends with Rick. She didn’t think Lewis would sell her out for no reason, but to win Rick’s confidence? That seemed like it would be reason enough.

“It doesn’t matter. I know he’s Guildford Underpass, and he makes those videos. Just let me speak to him.”

How did he know that? Lewis didn’t know Dad’s character name or that he was the one releasing videos. And what did Rick want with him?

“Why do you want to see my Dad, Rick?” Britta was careful not to admit anything. He could be fishing, trying to get her to confirm a guess. No one knew Dad’s game identity, not unless Dad had gone around telling people, which wasn’t very likely.

All she knew for sure was that Rick had found out Dad played. That information he could have got from Lewis. Everything else would mean he had to have met Dad in-game and got the information personally. Or, that he’d found a way to hack the game.

“Just take me home with you,” said Rick. It was an odd demand from an odd person.

“What happened to your face?” She switched subjects to buy herself more time. She wanted to know how he had figured this out, and what his plan was. Even if he knew about Dad, why did he want to meet him?

“Nothing. I got into a fight.” He seemed almost proud of himself.

“With Toby?” He was the prime suspect, but there might be any number of people who would want to beat him up. He had an aloof way of speaking that immediately put your back up. He was probably just doing it as a self-defence mechanisms, like most weak people trying to stand up for themselves and overdoing it, but it was still aggravating.

“No, not that idiot. I have a rough life, we can’t all live in a pretty street with nice trees.” He was getting odder by the moment. What had the trees got to do with anything?

“You’re being weird and creepy. I don’t like it when people are pushy and rude with me, and you’re being both.”

“I’m not being rude,” he said, eyes twitching. He was offended, like most people when they’re accused of something they feel is unjust.

“You’re following a girl home, sneaking around so she doesn’t see you. How do you think that looks? Have you any idea what it’s like being a girl on her own with some weirdo following her?”

The blank look on his face suggested he didn’t.

“I don’t care about you, I just want to talk to your dad.” He was honest, if not very tactful. Britta believed him. He wanted to talk to Dad about the game. He was as bad as Lewis; obsessed.

“I don’t care what you want. You aren’t entitled to get whatever you want just because you want it. Nobody owes you any favours.”

“I didn’t ask you for any favours.”

Britta could see the problem. In his mind, following her home was him not bothering her and doing things himself. He didn’t feel entitled, he thought he was earning the right to what he wanted by putting in the effort. The effort of following her home like you would follow a character in a game.

“You can’t follow people around, it’s wrong.” His face was blank. “It’s a bad thing to do, understand. It’s… it’s evil.”

He baulked, like he’d been stung. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yes. It is. It’s what bad people do to get what they want. They ignore other people’s feeling. You’re making me uncomfortable and upset, and you don’t care. That’s what an evil person would do.”

He stared at her, thoughts going around in his mind. “I… didn’t mean to upset you intentionally.”

“Okay, that’s good. But when you aren’t aware of the effects of your actions, when you don’t consider how the other person will feel, it’s called being inconsiderate, and it isn’t a good excuse for bad behaviour. Being thoughtless doesn’t get you a pass, it means you’re selfish and put yourself before everyone else.”

His mouth tightened. Britta regretted being so forthright with him. She thought it might make it easier to get through to him, but she was upsetting him. He might even get violent. People who were forced to face their own failings when they weren’t ready often lost it. A sharp tongue was often what set them off.

“If I don’t put myself first, no one else will,” he said through clenched teeth.

He may well have been right. His determination to get his way even though school and society had marked him out as an undesirable was probably the only way he’d get anywhere in life. There were plenty of heads of companies and even countries who had used the exact same mindset to achieve success. It was a completely valid strategy, if you had no shame and no empathy. It was dangerous, too. People with a grudge could easily place the blame on those who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t like being followed, Rick. It isn’t acceptable. You might know you aren’t going to do anything weird to me, but no one else does. I don’t. The police won’t.”

“What are you talking about? Police? You’re crazy.” Rick look baffled. “Just because that’s how your mind works doesn’t mean everyone else is a depraved lunatic, as well. Sometimes, I think the whole world is crazy. I don’t understand what’s wrong with you, any of you. Sending each other dick pics and videos of breasts. It’s disgusting. You all think it’s normal. I can’t turn on my computer without someone trying to show me something I have no interest in seeing. I hate this world. I wish I could leave it forever.”

Rick stared at her, adjusting his glasses like he was trying to get a better focus. Then he turned around and started walking away at speed. He looked weird walking so quickly with such short strides.

He stopped at the corner. “I’m not evil. You have no idea what the word even means.”

And then he was gone.

Was that a threat? She had thought of trying to help him. Just as well, it was unlikely she’d be able to talk sense into him. He was like any number of socially awkward boys, unable to communicate very well or see how they came across. He was probably convincing himself she was the one in the wrong for not just doing what he wanted.

It was all a bit scary, but she refused to let it get to her. Dealing with irritating boys who thought they could do as they pleased was another thing she would need to get used to. The world was full of them.

AN: Don't forget to vote on TopWebFiction if you have a moment. Cheers. VOTE