Daniel Suarez - Daemon

“You’re like a retarded Sir Lancelot.”

“Look, unlike you, I have a life, and I don’t have hundreds of extra hours to spend learning to play this game.”

They made it out to the road, and Sebeck finally got a good look around. This was a surprisingly complex-looking world. They stood on a narrow cobblestone street in a picturesque medieval town. A bell tower stood above what looked to be a square, and the bell was ringing. Birds even flew past in the morning sky. “Holy Moses. This is really something.”

“Incoming…”

A mob of armed men headed down the otherwise deserted street in their direction. They didn’t look friendly.

“Goddamnit, I didn’t want to use this, but we’ve got places to go.” Ross’s character made some animated, generic hand gestures.

“What are you up to? You casting a spell or something?”

“No, I’m using a magical device.”

Suddenly a shimmering portal opened in midair in the middle of the street. It revealed a tunnel that appeared to enter some extra-dimensional space.

“Why don’t you just sprinkle them with pixie dust?”

“I’m going to sprinkle you with pixie dust in a second. This is a fantasy world. Whether you think it’s cool is irrelevant. Several million people do think it’s cool, and the Daemon is using this to propagate in reality—so stop poking fun and get your psycho ass through the portal.”

“Okay, okay.” Sebeck ran his character through the portal. He immediately came out on a windswept hillside in knee-high grass. The hillside overlooked a rocky coastline. The sea shimmered in the algorithmic sunshine. It was beautiful. He turned to see Ross’s assassin run through the portal, a shouting mob close on his heels. Ross snapped the gate shut just as the crowd reached it. They were now alone on the hillside. The sound of the wind sweeping across the grass was their only companion.

“Where are we now?”

“About two hundred miles north.”

“Well, that is handy. So what’s up here?”

Ross’s ninja avatar pointed. “Turn around and take a look off the coast.”

Sebeck’s character started backing up.

Ross barked, “Left arrow key.”

“Oh.” Sebeck searched for the left arrow key on his keyboard. His view swiveled until he was looking off the coast again. There, in the distance, he could make out a jagged islet—perhaps a mile offshore and partially obscured by mist. Sitting atop the islet was a towering castle in jet-black stone.

“Hello. Dr. Evil’s beach house.”

“Chat rooms say it appeared the day Sobol died. No one has even gotten close to it and lived.”

“We’ll need to tell the NSA. They need to impound these servers.”

“These servers are in China. Or maybe South Korea. The companies that own them are politically connected there.”

“Well, the Feds can exert a lot of political pressure.”

“So can corporate executives.”

They stood staring at the castle. It was Sebeck who broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you transport us inside the castle?”

“I tried. This is as close as we can get. I can’t use scrying devices to see inside either.”

“Sobol’s locked it up tight.”

“Basically.”

They stood there for several more moments.

“So, how do we get in?”

“Is it me, or did I just say that no one has approached the place and lived?”

“We’ve got to find out what Sobol’s up to. Better our cartoon skins than our real ones.”

“Who says we need to get inside to find out what it’s for? What if we put the place under surveillance? Watch comings and goings?”

“Great. So if a dragon and a fairy show up at the castle, what the hell am I supposed to do with that information? Put out a warrant for their arrest?”

“No, but we might get some idea of how to get inside. With a little luck, we won’t be observed from this distance, and—” Ross stopped mid-sentence.

Sebeck saw it, too. A huge shadow had cast over them from behind. It had a vaguely humanoid outline.

“Control-Down-Arrow turns you around, Pete. Do it now.”

“Control-who-what?”

“Control-Down-Arrow.”

“Hold it. Control…where’s the Down key?”

“Pete! For the love of Christ, the Down arrow is a single key. Hold it down and simultaneously hold down the C-T-R-L key.”

Sebeck did. His character pirouetted.

A jet-black figure, about twelve feet tall, towered over them. The figure held an obsidian rod and wore a black crown. Piercing, demonic red eyes glowed from deep sockets. No mouth was visible as it raised its arm, pointing at Sebeck. A deep, gravelly wav file played, “Detective Sebeck. You don’t belong here!”

Before Sebeck could do anything, a lightning bolt arced hotly from the rod, blasting his avatar to dust. His screen went black, and his entire machine crashed—never to reboot.

Sebeck grabbed the headset mouthpiece. “Jesus! It said my name, Jon. And it just fried my computer. What’s it doing now?”

Only Ross’s cursing came over the phone line.

After the demon wasted Sebeck’s knight, Ross went into defensive mode, ducking and retreating. There wasn’t time to invoke another portal; the demon turned upon him. It raised its rod and spoke again. “You guided him here. Are you NSA or a Fed?” A pause. “Or neither? We shall see….”

The hard drive on Ross’s laptop started clattering.

“Shit!” He ripped the network cable from the socket. The game was still running, so he pulled the AC power cord and the battery, too. His laptop was now inert, the screen black.

He slumped back into his hotel desk chair and took a deep breath.

Sebeck’s voice barked over the phone. “Jon! What the hell is going on?”

“I just disconnected, Pete. It was trying to find out who I was. I only had the game and a video capture program on this laptop, but I didn’t want to lose the video images.” He frowned to himself as he reinserted the laptop battery and placed the computer on the desk. His mind was turning over the possibilities. Ross stopped short. “Pete. I need you to come and get me out of jail.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just come to Woodland Hills and get me out of jail, please.” He ignored Sebeck’s questions and pulled off the phone headset, bolting through his hotel room door.

Ross sprinted down the exterior walkway toward the lobby. He brushed past two regional sales reps unloading luggage from a rental car and hauled ass on the final straightaway, banging through the lobby push doors.

The desk clerk was a fresh-faced, conspicuously Caucasian kid. He shot a stern glance up at Ross. “Watch the doors, please, sir.”

Ross slammed into the counter, breathing hard. “I need access to your billing system. It’s an emergency.”

“Perhaps I can assist you, sir.” He manned a keyboard, prairie-dog-like with his paws poised.

“Do you track Internet use on guest accounts?”

“Your Internet viewing habits won’t appear on your bill.”

“That’s not what I meant. Do you connect guest billing information to an internal IP address?”

“Sir, we are required by law to maintain—”

“Goddamnit.” Ross swung his leg up and started clawing his way over the counter, sending brochures and phones flying. “This isn’t about pornography.”

“You can’t—“

Ross slipped on a PBX phone and tumbled to the floor behind the front desk.

The night clerk locked his workstation, then pressed a button under the counter. “The police are on their way!” He raced for the back office just as Ross got to his feet.

“Wait!” Ross lunged for the office door, but the kid slammed it in his face, ramming a heavy bolt home. Ross pounded on it with his open hand. It was a security door.