The Leveller - Julia Durango Page 0,19
hug Jackson Mooser right now. Attached to the message is a list of all the enemies we’ve fought in our mini-game sessions and the most effective weapons to defeat them. The perfect shopping list. I copy it to my inventory, laughing at Moose’s last line:
SENDING YOU MY LUCKY POTATO GUN VIA POST.
I make a beeline to World of WarToys on the second floor, where I’ll be making the majority of my purchases. I buy the best of everything, running through the list as fast as I can. Within minutes I’ve filled my storage locker with a decent variety of weapons and all the ammo I can pack.
Next I visit the I Will Survive! store and pick up a heavy-duty rappelling gun and harness, and the best pair of night-vision goggles I can find. My new contacts may not cut it for this gig.
I’ve now filled 98 of the 100 slots in my storage locker. I think about leaving them empty to save time, but the unlimited credit is burning a hole in my virtual pocket. I may never have this chance again. I hightail it to Medieval Moderne and buy the wench dress on my Wish List, then I figure, what the heck: I pop into the Parcel Post and pick up the potato gun delivery from Moose. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, especially after he took the time to help me out.
I’m loaded for bear now. Or shark, as the case may be. I take a few minutes to browse my Closet and change into a casual commando outfit, basically a T-shirt, cargo pants, and boots, plus a leather holster belt. I arm myself with the things I’ll need first, then fill the rest of my inventory slots with items from my locker.
It’s time to go hunting.
No fear, no fear, no fear, I tell myself as I walk purposefully through the Landing to the portal. It’s just a game. They can’t really eat you.
The automatic portal doors sense my approach and slide open before me in friendly fashion, like they do at the grocery store. I pause for a second and mentally rehearse the next few moments. If I were in my physical body, I would take some deep breaths, try to slow my heart rate. But those things don’t matter here. All that matters is how fast and how well my brain can instruct my virtual body to operate.
I step into the room and hear the doors whoosh shut behind me.
I glance around.
It’s just like the MEEP-O Men said it would be: white everywhere, with no signs of entrance or exit. A few seconds later a message appears in black inky cursive across the walls:
Now begins the great adventure. Though I leave behind a body, my soul will live forever in the MEEP.
As the words begin to fade, I ready myself for what’s coming next.
It happens faster than I expected.
The floor drops open and I begin to fall.
I shoot my rappelling gun at the ceiling and brace myself for the jolt on the back of my harness. I hate to look down, but there’s no time for cowardice.
Fy faen.
Three fins circle the water below me, less than three feet away. Two of the sharks are smaller or, perhaps more accurately, less ginormous than the third, who looks to be an 18-footer.
Suddenly I feel like a worm on the end of a hook. If he wanted to, Mr. 18 could easily breach the surface and pick me off faster than I can reach for my guns.
I start to panic, trying to make sense of the competing voices yelling at each other inside my brain.
GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, NIXY!
NO! YOU CAN DO THIS!
INITIATE THE FREQUENCY CODE!
THEY’RE NOT REAL, DAMN IT!
SAY THE NUMBERS!
PULL OUT YOUR GUNS AND SHOOT!
I start blasting my two laser guns into the tank like I’m Yosemite Sam. The sharks whip into a frenzy, running into each other in the tank, thrashing around in a blur of gray. My initial panic begins to subside, replaced by the familiar head rush of battle. This isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. A few more shots should do it.
And they do. The two smaller sharks eventually stop moving and then they disappear. Now I’ve just got Mr. 18 to deal with.
Heh.
Only now he has more room in the tank. And he knows where I am.
The voices in my head have no time to argue. In a flash he breaches the surface. Two tons of