Chapter Forty Three – Another World: Eight

Havery was biting his nails. It was an old habit that he’d mostly curtailed in his college years to impress a girlfriend who’d ultimately dumped him for a football player.

He still sort of wished he might one day find out the girl had become an addict or maybe a depressed housewife to a failed athlete who couldn’t quite make it after college ended and the scouts passed him by.

He wasn’t bitter at all.

Today was the day. The… the anti day actually, and no matter how much he might’ve wanted to kick the habit, today his fingernails would suffer the nervous wrath of his teeth.

Today Blizzard launched their Neurosync title. Today, if any day ever did, would mark the downfall of Tread the Sky. His game had some good things going for it. An innovative trade system, an absolutely punishing leveling system, and the uniqueness of Safe Zones were likely enough to keep a solid player base for years to come. Yet…

There had been plenty of older games that had faced the same thing. Tread the Sky wasn’t exactly an Indi game by any means but Gypsenergy wasn’t nearly the megacorporation that Blizzard was. They didn’t have the people to constantly update the game with new expansions, or tweak the balances, or make certain the rewards scaled with the difficulty. Not to the same degree they did.

Added to that, Blizzard had been making consistently amazing games for nearly a century. Only a few years to go actually. Havery had sort of hoped they’d wait for the reveal of their Neurosync game until their anniversary, but nooo. That would be far too kind.

It wasn’t as if his job was in danger, even if the player base for Tread the Sky left the game entirely. It was… personal. This had been a dream of his. To be the lead designer in building a successful game played by millions of people.

When his programming skills turned out to be subpar, spending hours trying to make simple programs work that other, smarter men and women could make work in minutes, he’d settled for managing that development. Despite not being smart enough to figure out the inner workings of the game, he’d worked hard, and even the developers beneath him knew that he’d been invaluable to creating something great.

No. He wasn’t golden boy Francis, but he had essentially achieved his dream. Multiple times over, in fact, since the Neurosync drew in crowds that typically spent no time playing games at all.

He just wanted his game to succeed.

Blizzard’s new title threatened that success in a real and visceral way, because dammit, they made amazing games. Hell, even now he was excited to see what they had built, even as he dreaded the consequences for his own game’s success.

He stood up from his desk and stepped over to the window. Sure enough, the crowd of Anti-A.I. protestors had grown, yet again. It was becoming difficult to even get to the building. That was going to be a problem, but what could they do?

He’d never even spoken to Gell and he didn’t think he could order her deletion. Not to mention the sale of her copies to the government, as well as a few other independent companies, had secured Gypsenergy a budget that could afford a few rough years. Honestly, they probably had enough to begin development on an expansion or even Tread the Sky 2. Maybe Tread Space?

He chuckled to himself.

Everything was going wrong all at once. Muriel Gillfire, normally a staunch supporter of games and their ability to help the real world, had gone on the attack. He didn’t know when she had met Gell but apparently, there had been friction.

A lot of friction. The woman was on a crusade and her rabid following was growing as her article spread in popularity. If she had her way, Gypsenergy would be shut down entirely. At the same time, she lauded the Neurosync as the next great step in human advancement.

Sure, Gell could be lightly compared to a fluffy terminator, but didn’t the woman see that the Neurosync itself might as well be the Matrix?

He mused on that for a moment. The Matrix had been rebooted twice since its original release but the premise was always the same. A machine army created a world for people to live in while using them as batteries. Terminator…? God, five reboots? Six? With so many movies in each reboot sequence, it was hard to remember.

He wondered if maybe it might be time to have some favorable media for A.I. After all, Tread the Sky was playing host to one and had just received a considerable influx of funds because of her. Why not throw some of that cash towards a Hollywood production supporting her?

The Little A.I. that Could? Gelliver Twist?

A little smile crossed his features as he considered proposing the idea to the board. They hadn’t done much with Gell since her discovery. Why not do more though? Why not go all-in with her? Make her the damn face of Tread the Sky. Put her Jellyfae form in the fucking logo. It was adorable as all hell.

Why not make her a Jellystar?

Hell, he didn’t even need to do much work. The girl charmed her way into the good graces of nearly everyone she met!

He’d been almost certain he’d seen that Tyrone boy blushing when he’d come out of the sync the other day. His flushed expression at talking with the little bubble of joy had almost been enough to assuage the annoyance at the fact that Tyrone was half Havery’s age and twice the programmer.

Almost.

He hadn’t been spying on them in-game but he knew Tyrone was requesting Gell-Duty – as Frank's team had begun to call it – more and more lately. Donna Lou had been the first to rib him about it, but he hadn’t stopped.

It was becoming a little bit of an in-office joke. Tyrone might actually have a crush on an A.I.

Luckily nothing untoward could come of that. Not in Tread the Sky anyway. Neurosync was advanced but not that advanced. In Ten years though? Twenty?

Who was to say what A.I. might come from Gell’s appearance? Havery, for one, was optimistic.

He grimaced as he looked down at the mob outside the fence, five floors below. Some people weren’t as open-minded. He was about to turn away to sit back down and develop a proposal when something caught his eye.

Frank was below, walking out to the parking lot. Five floors up made him small but easily discernible. Tall, smart, and... kempt in a way that Havery couldn’t help but envy, the lead developer was everything Havery had pictured himself being as a kid.

It was really hard to be jealous of Francis because the man could be so damn likable. He didn’t argue about how Havery probably wasn’t the best man for the job of coordinating the development when he very likely could have. Hell, Frank likely could’ve had his job if he wanted it. Fortunately, the man liked the guts of programming more than the grind of coordinating people.

Havery did too but… well. One of them was a much better programmer.

The mob was yelling at Frank with their anti-A.I. pickets, hurling insults. Some of them took the religious angle: “God made man, not machines!” and “It has no soul!” and “So cometh the destroyer of man!”

‘Huh,’ Havery thought, idly. ‘That was actually kind of creative.’

Others were less focused. “Down with Gypsenergy” was a popular one. “Fuck the Corperations.” Ah, always a classic. The incredibly un-creative “Kill It!” had made several appearances today. One new one caught his eye. “Gypsenergy: Sire of the Apocalypse!”

Wow. That was just... Wow.

Everyone at the company had faced that at this point. Frank had it worst of all, being the lead developer. Only Mrs. McDonough faced more heat from them, being the one who had announced Gell’s existence. However, being that she was one of the board members, she didn’t typically take the ground path to the parking garage. She parked on the top level and used the skywalk.

He wondered if these kids and protestors had jobs. Were they getting paid to do this somehow? Who had the money and time to spend an entire day picketing a cause that didn’t even really affect–!

He watched it happen as if in slow motion. Frank was waving them off, making his way towards the parking lot. They weren’t blocking his way but they were lined up outside the fence that protected the grounds from the public. The fence was made of iron poles that a person could easily fit through. Only propriety had kept the protestors behind it.

One moment, Frank was walking, holding up his annoyed hand. There was a glint of white or brown. A rock collided with him and Frank toppled to the ground. The distance to the ground as well as the huge windows robbed the scene of the terrible sound.

Havery’s jaw hung open.

“Oh… Oh my god,” he breathed.

The signs suddenly stopped moving but the shouting continued, many in the crowd unaware or unable to see what had just happened.

Havery’s hands were on his phone, the numbers dialed before his brain even caught up.

“9-1-1, What’s your emergency?” came a deep female voice.

“Y-yes. I’m on the fifth floor of Gypsenergy Headquarters. I just watched a crowd of protesters throw a rock at my head software engineer! H-he’s not moving!”

The crowd, thank god, was quieting down as more and more people realized that someone had gone too far. They were angry, but not a mob. They weren’t going to storm the building.

“Are you in danger?”

“I-I… I don’t think so. Some… some of them look like they’re running, but a few people look like they’re coming towards him. I’m five floors up s-so I can see.”

‘I can't believe this. Frank has never hurt anyone!’ Havery thought finding himself more angry than horrified as he answered the questions. Moments later sirens rose in the distance and those that hadn’t scattered before fled now. At least two members of the crowd were down on the ground and appeared to be trying to wrap Frank’s head in a bandage.

He decided then and there that he was going to sue the ever-loving fuck out of the asshole that had dared throw a rock at one of his team.