WetWeb (11 page)

The colored stripes on the six guns were more organization than would normally be expected from Tommy Chin.  With this setup, Tommy and his gang could use the blue guns to play in the fantasy created by RSI gaming, while reserving the red gun to exert control in real world.  They could move seamlessly in and out of their two realities, maintaining their high gaming status and incomes and at the same time seizing power over the village and the locals. 

Eli carefully dismounted.  No sudden moves.  He approached the three purposefully and directly.  They were standing directly in front of the entrance to the Saloon which consisted of a large door on hinges and a tall window on each side of the door.  They were guarding the entrance.  They looked confident.  They looked cocky.

As Eli stepped towards them, the pain in his right arm dissipated.  Cold sweat ran down his back and chilled him despite the heat.

“Let me pass,” Eli said.

“Can’t do it c
owboy,” replied the deputy standing directly in front of the door.

Eli recognized all three men.  He did not know them from the plastic factory or the village, so he suspected that they had traveled from other villages to
find
work with RSI Gaming.  He recognized them, however, from many fake gunfights while working at Wild West Alive.  Eli had fought with
each of
them
,
both one on one and also working in gangs.  He had fought against or alongside each of them enough that he knew he could beat any one of them on the quick draw.  But he had never tried before with his left hand, and this would slow him down.  Even with this handic
ap, Eli knew he was fast at the
quick draw.  He was faster than one any of these three.

He did the calculus of the gunfight in his head.  The first would drop before he could shoot
back
, the second would exchange
shots with Eli at the same time and
with luck
Eli
would kill the second and only take a minor wound.  The thir
d, however would shoot before Eli
could shoot back.  The third deputy would kill him.

He scanned their eyes looking for fear, looking for weakness, finding the order in which he would shoot.

“Don’t try it Eli,” said the deputy standing in the center, in front of the Saloon door.  He sensed Eli’s intention.  “We will
kill
you where you stand,” he threatened.

No weakness there, Eli thought, only stupid arrogant confidence.  He will be first.  He considered the deputy to the left.  This deputy was standing directly in front of the tall Saloon win
dow.  The dark interior of the s
aloon and bright day light outside made the window into a mirror and Eli could clearly see the deputies back reflected in the glass.  In the glass, Eli could see he was wearing a long Bowie knife.  It hung from the middle of the back of his belt like a tail.  Eli looked at his face, he looked cruel.  He was rough shaved and he had a long thin scar along his cheek and neck.

The third deputy stood over to his right side.  This deputy was heavy set.  He had a black beard covering a round face.  Eli knew this one.  He was one of the least popular hosts in the game because he was slow.  To compensate for his lack of ability, this one had become increasingly cruel.  He attracted players by pushing the fake punches into reality and causing real injuries whenever he could.  Eli decided he would shoot this one last.  He was slow. Maybe he will panic an
d not fire.  Maybe he will miss
.

“Don’t do it,” The deputy standing in the center reiterated. 

But Eli knew he knew he would.  How could he not.  They had taken his village. They had taken his sister.   His right arm hung heavy on this right side; broken and useless.   His left arm felt weak.  He heard a buzzing in his ears.  Sweat dripped from his eyebrows and blurred his vision.  He waited.

The heavy deputy on his right side grew nervous.  He shifted his weight on his heels
, rocking
his bulk from side to side.  Eli noted this.  This confirmed his plan; the heavy one would be third.  Eli waited.

On his left, the deputy with the scar broke the stand-off and started to make a move.  But before his gun was out of the holster, the window behind him exploded outwards, casting glass and wood splinters in every direction; the thin deputy with the scar was carried forward by the blast and tumbled onto the street behind Eli.

Eli did not let the surprise of the explosion slow him or even register in his conscious mind; he simply reacted reflexively.  The six-gun was in his left hand.  He fired in rapid succession, first to the center, then to the right.

One shot for each and the space between them was filled with black smoke.  The deputies crumpled together, twisted and then fell.  Eli was still standing.  The calculus of the gunfight had somehow changed.  Through the shattered window of the
Saloon; Eli could see a pretty A
sian face framed by red hair and feathers.  It was Sadie.  She was holding a still smoking shotgun.

Eli grinned at her, and she managed to grin back.

“Thought you looked a might outnumbered,” she said.

“Thank you kindly,” Eli replied and he touched the brim of his hat with his still smoking six-gun.

As he spoke the dryness of his mouth was filled with wetness.  He tasted blood.  So the calculus of the gunfight had been right after all.  The heavy bearded deputy who stood to his right had fired a shot and now Eli was wounded.  The lack of pain and the taste of blood made him
realize that
he was hurt bad.  He wished for pain.  Even agony as when his arm was broken.  A wound with no pain was more terrifying.  He might not survive this.  Time was short.

“Sadie, send Liang out now.  We need to go.” He said.

“Eli!” she said called out as her eyes were growing wide, “your shot.”

“Send out Liang,” he replied, his voice was raspy now.

The pale Asian face framed by red hair and feathers disappeared from the shattered window leaving nothing but darkness.  He peered into the dark and felt its pull.

“Not yet,” he said, and forced himself to look away.

He stepped, and then staggered out into the street.  As he stepped he was surprised to feel a squishing sensation in his right boot.  His foot was wet, but the street was dry.  His vision blurred.  The buzzing in his ears grew loud.  From down the street he could see a small figure approaching.  It was growing larger with each step.

From the Saloon, he heard calls from Liang and he heard Sadie calling, but he could not make out the words that they were saying.

In front of him, the figure slipped in and out of focus.  White hat, red and blue gun handles protruding from a holster strapped to each leg.  It was Tommy Chin.  He could see that Tommy Chin was yelling, but the words were lost.  All he could hear was the buzzing in his ears.  Even without the words, he knew that the blurry image of Tommy Chin was calling on him to draw. 

Tommy faded out of focus.  Eli tried to force his eyes to focus, to judge the distance, but it was no use.

Above Tommy’s head, Eli saw a small flock of blackbirds startled by the gunshots.   They had leapt from their tree branches and hidden perches and were swirling about upon the hot updrafts, moving together in a dance of wing and wind.

In a flash, Yang leaped from his broken body and joined with the blackbirds circling above.  In his mind’s eye he could see his lean form standing stiffly on the street in front of the Saloon; still facing Marshal Dirk Redburn, who was calling him out.  Either way this would be his final gunfight.

The loud buzzing in his ears cleared, replaced by the cool hush of wind on feathers.  His vision cleared, he could see blackbirds darting and diving all about him.  The taste of blood on this tongue was gone, instead he could taste the clean summer air spiced with smells of rice and grass and horse.

He tipped his black feathers to catch the updraft, and without a second thought to the drama on the street below, he joined with the blackbirds flying higher now.  Rising up into the clean blue sky and not looking down.

“Blair vs. City of
San Francisco: A landmark legal ruling in which it was settled that both the host and the remote user were culpable for crimes committed by the host body while the host was
being
controlled by the remote user via a Synaptic Interface device.”

-WetWiki

Franklin stopped writing and put the pen down because Anand had stopped talking.  He had been going strong all morning providing new a
nd intriguing details into the c
owboys at Wild West Alive and Franklin was anxious to hear how the story played out.  He was sure that the retro-pulp feature that he had promised to Titus would be popular.  Franklin wanted to continue, but did not k
now how to keep Anand on topic.  Anand
insisted on telling his story his own way, and in his own time.

“Do you want to take a break?”  Franklin asked after the silence grew uncomfortable.

“No, thank you,” Anand responded after a moment.

“Best to push on
,
” Anand continued.  “This next part is hard to tell, you see, I need to tell you about when I murdered a man.”

Franklin considered this.

“Is this why you are here in this prison, for the murder of this man?” Franklin asked.

“No
,
” Anand said laughing nervously
,
“
That will come much later.  I told you I am here for the murder of Christopher Mark
,
” 

He paused,
then
continued
.

This was my first murder you might say, although at the time I could not be convicted.  This was before the legal system had addressed Synaptic Derivation and before anyone realized that capital crimes would be committed by remote control.  The court system did not catch up to the technology
un
til some years later.  But they did catch up.  There was a case in San Francisco where a woman used Synaptic Derivation to murder her philandering husband.  I don’t remember all of the details, but I do know that she managed to secure the mistress as a host.  Imagine the husbands surprise when his mistress turned out to be controlled by his vengeful wife.  He was caught ‘in flagrante delicto’ in more ways than one.

Anand chuckled at the circumstances of the case
.  This case
would eventually lead to the legal precedent that would
,
in time
,
be used to imprison him. 

Franklin thought of the host view recording that he had seen when he researched Anand’s trial.  A bizarre murder that left Franklin with more questions than answers, at least the wife who utilized Synaptic Derivation to kill her husband had a motive.  Franklin again wished that Anand would hurry along with his story.      

Anand looked at Franklin directly and spoke with authority
,
“It’s time for you to hear some dark truths about me.”

Franklin did not respond.  He hoped that Anand was ready to tell him some facts that would make sense.  Something original he could use in his pulp feature, or even better, a content feature.

Anand continued saying, “I will tell you the story completely and I am depending on you to retell the story faithfully
;
the truth without edit or embellishment.”

Franklin picked up the pen.

“You must promise,” Anand decreed
,
  “
Before we go forward, I must have your promise that you will report accurately and completely.  You will tell the truth
about what
you learn from me.”

“I promise,” Franklin said without hesitation, “I will faithfully and accurately tell your story, without edit or embellishment.” 

Franklin did not hesitate to make this promise
,
and why should he.  He had no intention of changing any part of Anand’s story.  This retro-feature about the
c
owboys at Wild West Alive was pure gold.  The escalation of real violence inside the fantasy world was even better than he had hoped.  This would be the pulp feature that would pay for his new Warmbot.  This would be the pulp feature that would make him a celebrity.  Franklin considered his wife Dolly.  Since their marriage he had felt that she was drifting away from him, spending more and more time Synapped into pulp features.  Romance pulp where she was carried away by stronger men, more assertive men.  When he published this new retro pulp feature, it would all change.  Dolly would see him differently.  He would no longer feel like an outsider in his own home.

“Thank you,” Anand said.

“You’re welcome,” Franklin replied
,
“Shall we continue?”

“Yes, quite right, quite right,” Anand said, “Long way to go yet, much to tell.”

After this exchange, Anand visibly relaxed in his chair.  He was past the point of no return and already the stress and tension he felt from carrying his story was beginning to abate. 

Anand assumed a more reflective tone, and then continued saying,
“You must remember
we were caught completely by surprise when real violence erupted at Wild West Alive among our hosts.  We thought of these people as employees, as actors in a play.  They were being well compensated relative to their previous employment in the plastic brush factory.  So when they started to shoot each other with real lead bullets, we were shocked, we were dumbfounded.  At first, all we could do was stand and watch.
”

* * * * *

When word of the violence was first reported to the corporate office, Christopher Mark was quick to dispatch
Anand
back to China as if it was a technical problem, as if the interface device had malfunctioned and was causing the hosts to kill each other.  But
,
what else could he do.  There really was no other authority in charge at Wild West Alive.  RSI Gaming owned the whole town, and RSI Gaming was controlled by a hierarchy of technicia
ns and network analysts.  When Anand arrived at WWA, he
was the senior person in charge and on the scene.  Ther
e was no head of security that he could call.

Even though Anand was
in ch
arge he felt quite impotent. When he was on the vid-phone with
Christopher Mark
, Christopher would
instantly veto any suggestion
Anand had
t
o
shut down
,
or interrupt the game.
”
 

Chris
topher Mark
was convinced
he
could successfully pass this incident off as normal violence that wa
s part of the game.  Anand, however, knew better.  He
was seeing and hearing
feedback directly
from the
technicians in the control room, and he was quite sure the
players and
viewers could tell the difference.  From the control room Anand
could see that there
were
over
three-thousand
viewers following
the
rogue cowboy
making
h
is
way up
the main street of Squabash.  Anand
argued with Chris
topher
about shutting down the game until the ar
gument became academic. 

Realizing he was getting nowhere with Christopher, Anand returned his focus to the crisis in Squabash.  He
could see that the one red dot, repre
senting the rogue cowboy on the central overhead vid-
screen display
,
was
just
in front
of the graphic cut away of the s
aloon entrance
.  He could see the red dot
confronting thre
e green dots, each representing
one of Marshal R
edburn’s deputies.  Inside the saloon a variety of green and y
ellow dots were moving about or sta
ying
still
.  Anand knew the dots that were staying still
were hosts who were hiding from the impending gunfight inside the Saloon.

On the central media screen, Henry continued to click on the interface
,
and arrange the vid-screen display
,
so that the
point of v
iew from the rogue cowboy was now clearly visible in a small window.  This window was labele
d as the ‘Host View’.  Anand, Henry, and the
t
echnicians in the control room,
watched
,
along
with the three-thousand
vie
wers, as the rogue gunman studied the
men blocking the entrance to the Saloon.  The hos
t view display showed that the r
ogue cowboy
was scanning
the faces of the deputies one by one.  First
he looked at
the man in the center who kept talking
.  Next,
he looked at the deputy
to his
left
side,
who
had a thin scar on his face.  Finally, the rogue cowboy scanned the face of the
deputy
on
his
right
side
.  This deputy was heavy set and wore a thick beard.  As
they
were watching from the per
spective of the rogue cowboy, Anand
became distracted
by one of the
green dots ins
ide the saloon.  The green dot turned yellow, and then r
ed.

“What’s this?”  Anand
asked pointing to the map view and the new red dot, “Is this another rogue cowboy
?
”

Henry quickly clicked on the new red dot and brought up an information window.  The information in the display window hovering near the new red dot said:

Name: Angie Yu

Role: Sadie – Saloon Girl

Age: 21

Sex: Female

Popularity: 18%

Player Control: 0%

Viewers: 1

“She’s one of our Saloon Girls,” Henry said.

“What is she …”
Anand’s
broken question was interrupted by the answer.

On the Host View screen, which was still
displaying the
perspective from
the
rogue cowboy,
they
watched as the window of the
s
aloon exploded outward
.  T
he thin cowboy
,
with the scar on his face
,
tumbled out of the field of vision and
out
of the rogue cowboy’s point of view.

Within the same instant, the rogue cowboy was shooti
ng directly into the remaining s
aloon guards at point blank range. 
They
watched as
t
he
cowboy
fired two shots in quick succession, one shot for each
of the remaining deputies.  They
watched as the
deputies guarding the s
aloon twisted, turned
,
and fell. 

On the map display the synaptic activity counter
,
for the three green dots that had been positioned at the entran
ce of the s
aloon
,
slowed and then quickly dropped to zero.  These were the dots that indicated the positions of the deputies outside the Saloon.  One by
one, these green dots turned to g
rey
,
indicating a complete malfunction of the s
ynaptic interface device.  As Anand watched together with the technicians, they
a
ll were uncomfortably aware that the
interface device
s were
not malfunctioning.  The technicians gathered about the
room did not move or speak.  They
all knew there was no technical f
ailure
.

As they watched
the synaptic activity of
the
d
eputies
drop to zero
,
and the green dots tu
rn to grey, it occurred to Anand that the cowboys guarding the s
aloon were not rogue
or even resisting.  They were g
reen dots on the map
before they turned to grey
,
which meant that
they were in compliance with their remote players.

“Who w
as controlling those Cowboys?” Anand asked pointing to the
grey dots.

“The link is down, the
hosts are ‘Off’” Henry said, who
seemed ignorant of the morbid irony in his reply.