Prologue (Patreon)

Here it is, the very first chapter of the next AO book!

Here it is, the very first chapter of the next AO book! I haven't decided on a title just yet so we'll leave this one unnamed for now.

While editing, I also noticed I'm incorporating story elements from multiple books, so if you spot any continuity issues please let me know. There are a lot of books now lol. As usual, you can ignore smaller edits like typos and proofing issues since we will pick up that stuff on future editing passes.

That's all for now, enjoy!

Prologue

December 7, 2076:  67 days after the release of Awaken Online.

Richmond

Alex Lane

Alex blinked.

Blinked again.

Why, uh… why was he here?  The seats around him were all empty, the screens along the walls flickering through placeholder images.  The logo for Richmond was emblazoned across those screensavers.  This was a classroom.  One of his classrooms – that much was clear.

He just didn’t remember how he’d gotten here.

Or why the classroom was empty.

Or why his head hurt so damned much…

Wincing, Alex rose – the world listing and tilting briefly before recentering.  He stumbled toward the door, forced to lean against a vacant desk as vertigo struck again, a sharp pain radiating through his temples.  The ache faded slowly and his balance gradually recovered enough to fumble at the door handle.  With a creak, the heavy door slid open—

Only to reveal a dark, silent hallway.

“What the fuck is going on?” Alex muttered, stepping into the hall.

Motion sensors in the ceiling registered his movement and the lights flickered on, filling the hall with a harsh fluorescent glare.  Even though Richmond was considered a “low-tech” school, it wasn’t entirely immune to the changing times.  The truth was that the technology was just more limited.  Which is why the screens embedded in the walls flickered online – a closed-circuit system for relaying school broadcasts.

However, they weren’t quite so “closed” anymore.  News programs flashed across those screens, stretching up to the ceiling and down the hall, each playing silently.  Different hosts all mouthing their reports as a carousel of images rotated out behind them.  A grim backdrop of thousands of people filling city streets and crushing up against makeshift police barricades. Images of rioters fighting heavily-armed officers in riot gear mixed with panoramas of dark castles and crystalline cities and flowing plains that couldn’t possibly be real.

Alex squinted against the glare, still cradling his head, his attention riveted on those images. To his left an event at Cerillion Entertainment headquarters, the building lit up in glorious relief.  Drones flickering through the night sky.  A horde of fans and protesters pressing toward a stage.  One where he was standing with the other avatars.  Except he didn’t remember that…

Had he really been there?

But what day was that?  How long ago?

He-he couldn’t say… his memories felt fuzzy – the headache only making it worse.

To his right, a video feed from a place he didn’t recognize.  A massive underground cavern, a huge cluster of crystal embedded in the ceiling and glowing brightly in a vivid array of colors.  Its light illuminating a foreign city far below.  One built of seamless stone buildings, as though they had been chiseled from the rock itself.  The city cordoned off and broken up into three concentric rings, each section divided by towering walls.

And many inhuman races wandered those streets.

The names came to him slowly, his memories returning gradually.  Like an old-timey projector reel slowly spinning up to speed.  Efreet, undead, merfolk, and even nephilim, their wings fluttering and flapping through the air but constrained by the warded shields that sprang from those walls, keeping them trapped in the outer layer of the city.

The tags above their heads revealed them for what they were – travelers.

“What… what is this?” Alex muttered.

Apparently, that was all the permission the school’s AI needed to un-mute the feeds, streaming that audio directly to the implant behind his ear.  There was a sharp crackle of static and a brief flash of pain.  His fingers darted to his ear, coming away with a spot of blood – almost like the implant had been freshly installed.  But that was impossible—

“Now only a few days out from the live event at Cerillion Entertainment, both the real world and Awaken Online has been thrown into chaos,” a broadcaster announced, his voice cutting through the mental fog as Alex's eyes darted back to the screen.  “In the wake of the event, protestors and counter protestors clashed as they frantically tried to make it back to their homes and apartments to log into AO.  Thousands were injured – more than a hundred severely – and several people remain in critical condition.

“Outraged families have begun flocking to the Cerillion Entertainment headquarters, protesting AO and forcing the company to fortify the structure.  They are demanding George Lane take AO offline or begin imposing reasonable and enforceable constraints on players’ game time – pointing to rampant addiction, closed stores and public facilities, and widespread truancy among in-person and online schools.  Issues that plague the whole country and many other parts of the world as the VR technology expands into other markets.

“In response, the company has promised to look into these issues, emphasizing in the meantime that violence is not the answer.  It is critical that the community and the country come together to discuss ways to adapt our current economic and social systems to this new technology.  To this end, city leadership has imposed a mandatory evening curfew…”

Alex let out a derisive snort that sent a peal of pain rippling through his head – yet it was weaker this time; more manageable.  This was just “Business Optics 101.”

Don’t blame the product.  Blame the consumer.

His attention skimmed to another screen and the audio shifted.  A woman’s voice now.

“…we are coming to you live from Pax, providing daily coverage on the city’s operations in the aftermath of the Reckoning – what travelers have been calling the transformation of Awaken Online,” she reported.  “Jason was originally lauded for his attempt to rescue the travelers stranded in the former elemental cities – now controlled by the old avatars, the so-called “Originals.”  However, over the last week in-game, criticism has mounted that it was too little and too late.

“His rescue efforts are estimated to have recovered only 10% of the total player base, those that were quick to log in during Cerillion’s live event or who were already online.  However, many players were either unable to make it home or their avatars were too far away from the cities.  The escape portals that were briefly formed by these mysterious gate pieces were also quickly closed as the Originals took control of their cities and began to focus on those evacuation areas, leaving many stranded and at the mercy of the former avatars.

“Even for those who managed to escape, Pax isn’t the refuge they were expecting. While only housing a fraction of the total player base, the underground city isn’t nearly large enough to accommodate those players, leading to in-game violence and instability.”

The screen behind the reporter flickered and flashed, shifting rapidly through images of that strange underground city.  Showing explosions of fire and ice and lightning.  Buildings collapsing.   Massive fights breaking out among the travelers.  Dozens and even hundreds of corpses staring with wide-eyed and vacant expressions, blood pooling beneath them.

Alex could only look on, puzzled.  Was this Pax?  A new city maybe?

Or... an old one?  It looked ancient.

“Jason and the other avatars – including this enigmatic new earth avatar – have attempted to address these issues by cordoning off Pax into multiple sections to protect the city’s residents,” the reporter continued.  “Travelers may build reputation and access other portions of the city by completing various quests, which primarily include mining, with plans to expand to monster hunting and foraging once travelers are capable of taking on the world’s new wildlife.  Which… might be a while given the huge level gap.

“The city’s new PVP flag system and the introduction of the Mile High Club’s PVP zones have also given travelers an avenue to vent their frustrations.  However, even these alternatives are quickly being overrun as travelers flood Pax’s streets.”

The view behind the man shifted to a view of the Twilight Throne and Crystal Reach.  “However, most are still stranded in the former elemental cities, some even choosing to remain as they adapt to new leadership under the game world’s former avatars—”

Alex swallowed hard, the voice fading as his attention focused on a forgotten corner of the screen.  One he hadn’t noticed at first — the date and time stamp on every screen.

Friday, December 7th, 2076 – 11:13AM

“December 7th?” Alex muttered.

Could that really be right?  Hadn’t it just been—

A metallic squeak jolted him out of his thoughts.  Alex looked up sharply to find a service bot pushing a cleaning cart slowly down the hall.  The machine was bipedal. Vaguely humanoid but lacking a face or skin, revealing only a pragmatic metal frame.  A common sight nowadays as the world had transitioned to AI technology and birth rates had declined below the replacement rate.  By law, most of the bots were relegated to low skill work to help fill the labor gap.

But where was everyone else?  Why was the school so empty?

“Hey there, you all right?”

Alex whirled in alarm, only to discover an older man watching him. He was wearing overalls, a toolbelt, and a blockier, service-based Core attached to his wrist.  His uniform identified him as school staff.  A bot tech.  His name tag revealed that his parents had the unfortunate lack of imagination to name him “Bob.”  Bob the janitor.

Alex struggled to muster himself; to tamp down on the confusion that still swept through his mind.  Searching for something – for that familiar cold arrogance; that protective numbness – only to find it strangely missing.  There were only the questions.  So many questions.  Why did his head hurt so much?  Why the hell was he here?  Why did those screens all imply that days had passed since the Cerillion event?  Why couldn’t he remember—

 “Are you okay?” Bob repeated, moving closer.

“I, uh… I am fine,” Alex managed.

The squeak, squeak, squeak faded as the bot neared and Alex looked up to see the janitor's brow furrowed in recognition.  “Aren’t you Alex?  Alex Lane?”

He paused, his eyes narrowing as he sniffed at Alex.  His lips cracked into a small, knowing smile.   “Ahh, late night, hmm?  Out celebrating, no doubt.”  He glanced at the empty classroom behind him.  “Smart move sleeping it off here.  No cameras and no witnesses – at least, not lately.”

Alex blinked in confusion.  Had he been out partying?  Drinking?

That might explain the headache and the confusion.  Possibly even the memory loss.  He could have also taken something stronger.  Stupid but certainly not the first time.

Yet the knowing, judgmental look on the janitor’s face helped center him.  Suddenly, Alex’s back straightened.  That haughty arrogance returned to his eyes.  His mind centered not on his questions, but what he knew.  Who he was.  Technological royalty.  The son of George Lane.  The Avatar of Light.  One of the most popular streamers in the world.

And certainly not someone who commiserated with the help.

“That is none of your business – at least, if you value your job,” Alex snapped, the older man’s smile vanishing in a flash and replaced by a much more submissive expression.  Perfect.

“I-I’m sorry, I meant no offense—” Bob began.

“Where is everyone?  Isn’t it a week day?” Alex interrupted.

Take control.  Lead the questions.  His father’s training kicked in automatically.

The janitor cocked his head.  “Um, what do you mean?  Barely anyone shows up for class anymore.  First it was the students that went missing and then the teachers started joining them.  Most just do their work inside the game now.  Something about time compression.” 

The man shook his head as he eyed the vacant hall.  “I don’t get the appeal.  Seems to me they’re all running away from living.  Although, it certainly makes my job easier,” he offered hesitantly, motioning at the displays lining the hallway.  Bob must've been the one who tied the screens to the larger network.

Alex frowned.  He remembered attendance trailing off – even he’d started doing his class work inside the game to increase his uptime.  But he’d been the exception to the rule, hadn’t he?

“Doesn’t the school require in person attendance?” he offered.

Now the janitor looked confused.  “They changed the policy a couple weeks ago.  Why bother when each day spent here costs four days in-game? Although, that does seem to defeat the point of this place...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

Then those elderly eyes trained on Alex.  “Don’t you remember?”

He did – vaguely.  Yet the memory felt faint and disconnected.  Just another washed out slide on the projector reel spinning through his mind.

“Yeah… yeah.  I’m just—” Alex began.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the janitor asked again.

Alex hated the concern and sympathy he saw in that man’s gaze.  The pity.

It suddenly reminded him of someone else – of somewhere else.  This memory wasn’t washed out and gray, but painted in vivid color.  The same harsh fluorescent lights.  The same chilly air.  The same cool, hard flooring.  Except it was a different face staring back at him.  One less wrinkled.  Those lips twisted in a sneer.  Eyes filled with the same pity but mixed with a bottomless contempt—

“Son, you don’t look well,” George said, reaching forward.

And the knuckles of his hand were bloody and bruised—

Before he realized what he was doing, Alex jerked away, his back pressing hard against the screen behind him – hard enough to crack the display.  And just like that, the image faded and he found himself looking at Bob the Janitor once more.  The man’s face wrinkled in concern.  His arm extended, those gnarled fingers reaching for him.  Free of blood.

Just what the fuck was going on?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m, uh—I’m fine,” Alex began, swallowing hard, his racing heart betraying him.  The janitor didn’t look convinced either, but Alex was saved as the Core on his wrist chimed.

He looked down to find a simple message – one that filled him with an inexplicable dread.

George Lane:  I need to speak with you.  Meet me at Cerillion in 45 minutes.

“I, um, I need to go,” Alex said, pushing away from the wall.

He didn’t wait for a response.  Didn’t look behind him to see Bob the Janitor’s undoubtedly puzzled expression.  Didn’t give a shit that he’d just destroyed school property.  He just strode down the hall, hoping that his body knew where to take him – like where the hell he’d parked his car.  Because he didn’t remember that either.

Which was why he missed Bob’s transformation.  The janitor’s expression hardened, the slouch of his shoulders disappeared, his submission faded, and his fingers tapped at the implant behind his ear with a sharp gesture.

“Yes, yes… he’s leaving now,” Bob reported.  “His memory is still spotty.  The news broadcasts helped bring him up to speed and centered him, but he’s jumpy.”

He eyed the broken monitor along the hall, cracks radiating out from that impact.  That boy hadn’t even flinched at crushing inch-thick glass.  How the hell was that possible?

“We’ll also need a repair crew,” Bob murmured.

A brief pause and then, “Yes, likely lingering trauma.  However, he’s heading toward the parking lot, so he must be regaining his memories.  He should be there shortly.”

Bob’s lips pinched into a thin line.  “And my daughter?  Her data?  Her eligibility for the Lazarus—” He was cut off, relief flooding through him at the response on the other end of the line and his expression softening.  “Of course.  Thank you, Mr. Lane.”

Then the man tapped at his ear again and gave one last look at Alex’s retreating form.  There was compassion in his expression – even pity.  But, below that… a trace of suspicion.  Something about this whole exchange felt off.  Wrong.  The questions piling up.  Like why had that kid woken up here of all places?  What exactly had he been through?  Why was he having memory issues?  And how had he destroyed that monitor?

But he wasn’t getting paid to answer any of those questions – the opposite, in fact.

So, he turned around, leaving behind a cart, a cleaning bot, a broken screen, and an empty school.  It only took 5 minutes for the lights to flicker off again.