The Copper Rose Read online

  Freedom Online

  Book 1: The Copper Rose

  by David Lingard

  Prologue

  I

  had been awaiting the release of Freedom Online for so long. Ever since its first announcement trailer over two years ago, through the agonising delays and hiccups that the company, Rapture Entertainment, had announced I’d been positively salivating at the prospect of Full Immersion Virtual Reality, or FIVR. I’d also always known that the waiting lines would have been horrific, but nothing could have prepared me for the kind of world that the game created.

  The FIVR centres, where an individual could enter Freedom Online were limited to just a few locations around the world, twelve to be exact, and with each centre only catering for the long-term immersion of a few thousand players, the spaces that hadn’t already been allocated to the world’s upper echelons and the elites that could afford it, were priced astronomically high.

  Exclusivity was how Rapture Entertainment had skewed the supply and demand for its own product so that it could make back all of the money that it’d spent on researching the technologies and systems needed to make FIVR a reality. Their process was simple, create a huge worldwide buzz around Freedom Online and then limit the available places to create an absolute bidders frenzy. I had to admit that it had worked an absolute treat.

  Personally, I had no hope in the world of ever getting a place in a FIVR centre, but that little fact didn’t stop Freedom Online occupying nearly every waking thought I had and most of my dreams too. Actually, when I’d done the math, I would’ve had to have sold everything I owned, then worked rent and rate free for over ten years to be able to afford the minimum one-year term in a pod. A man could dream, but in short, no matter how mouth-watering the prospects of FIVR were to me, it would always be destined to remain simply a dream.

  The one-year minimum term was initially touted in the media as the thing that would bring ‘Rapture Entertainment to its knees’ or otherwise prevent the mass adoption of the game and FIVR systems in general. The term was introduced because the human mind was not entirely happy with being dropped in and out of reality as the company had initially supposed. After long independent studies, mild brain damage had begun to occur if the player was able to log on and off of the system repeatedly – or after ‘persistent changes to their reality’ as they put it, but after six months the damage would repair itself. Rapture Entertainment chose a minimum year term to add in a factor of safety and to save face somewhat with both the powers that be and the media swarm that surrounded Freedom Online.

  Regardless of the long-term nature of being a part of Freedom Online, this didn’t seem to stop the world from becoming enamoured by the prospect of actually becoming somebody else, no matter how virtual that person may be.

  Chapter One, Hope

  T

  hree days. That’s all it had taken for Rapture entertainment to announce that they’d started to make a profit from Freedom Online and by all accounts, they hadn’t wanted to stop there. Within the first six months, they had implemented new and in their words ‘state of the art’ FIVR centres around the world, tripling their available revenue streams and keeping Freedom Online securely locked in place on the front of every newspaper. That’s when the lotteries for places in the game had begun.

  As both the world’s fastest growing and already biggest company having taken over from a particularly well-known fruit company, Rapture entertainment started to run a lottery alongside the new FIVR centres. Each week, one lucky winner would have the honour of a place in one of the game pods free of charge for as long as they would like, providing it was longer than the minimum one-year term. Not only did the lottery provide an enormous increase in revenue for the company, but it also generated more media coverage than even they could have imagined. Tickets were cheap, but each week over one hundred million people around the world paid the three pounds entry fee in the belief that they might have a chance to play the ‘game that changed the world’.

  The drawing of the winning ticket was televised every Friday night on television channels that also paid royalties to Rapture so that they could increase their own viewership and make their own fortunes in advertising, by all accounts the rise of Rapture had been a great thing for the global economies, with the wealth overflowing and trickling down the FTSE, Nasdaq and the Nikkei amongst others.

  The show itself had been called ‘Freedom to Play’ and I never missed a minute of it. Each week I clasped my ticked as the hope in my eyes was crushed by the face of another hopeful gamer was displayed as the winning ticket holder. This never stopped me from buying a ticket for the next week’s draw the very next day, however, new hope borne in my mind and the possibilities of being the next winner swimming through my mind.

  “This week’s lucky winner is…” My breath always caught at this moment and my heart beat through my chest. If I’d been of a weaker disposition I might have fainted. “…William Cross”. That sinking feeling again. I never won, I didn’t know why I kept wasting my money on this bloody lottery.

  William Cross’ picture instantly filled the screen. I always hated seeing their stupid mocking faces – the ticket machines always took your picture as you bought a ticket so that the program could show the world who’d be the next free ride into Freedom Online, yes it was lame but that’s just the way it was.

  I scrunched my ticket up and threw it across the room to where I knew the bin would be. It missed but I didn’t really care, I was too annoyed about not winning the lottery to worry about making a little mess. I’m not sure why I let it get to me so much, after all the chances of winning were one in a hundred million.

  William Cross though. Stupid name really, but why did he look so familiar to me? Did he just have one of those generic faces that reminded you of someone else? No, that couldn’t have been it. I knew that guy but from where?

  My heart rate increased slightly as the excitement of knowing somebody who was about to go into the thing I coveted the most in the world washed over me. Then it hit me.

  When I’d bought the ticket for this week’s lottery, I’d opened the door to the shop for our lucky friend William. In fact, I could actually see my own hand in the picture on the screen. If I hadn’t of let him in before me I would have won, and the picture would’ve been of me. My eyes welled up as my emotions conflicted inside me. Fucking William Cross.

  I reached for the bottle of Morgan’s Spiced Rum to my side, quarter filled my lowball glass and topped it up with good old plain coke. It’d become somewhat of a tradition to drink myself to sleep each week after I’d lost the lottery, and this week would be no exception. Sometimes I’d laugh about the fact that even though the world shamed people for drinking sugary drinks these days – some governments already having sugar taxes on food and drink in place – I would still buy my favourite drink by the caseload. Today was not a day for laughter, however.

  It took me an hour, but four doubles really relaxed me despite the energising effect of the sugar. I fell asleep right there in my chair.

  After a while there was a knock at the door. It woke me up in the rudest of fashions and I dragged myself groggily from my chair and opened it. Before me stood two men in black suits and black ties holding out identification cards that told me they were from Rapture Entertainment.

  “Mr Philips?” the man on my left asked as I nodded to indicate that I’d read his ID card.

  “Brendan” I replied. I hated when people called me by my surname.

  “May we come in?” he asked.

  “Why?” I asked quickly. I never liked inviting people into my house without prior appointment. It wasn’t that I was an introvert or even that I had anything to hide, I just really liked planning, timing and keeping things i
n order.

  “We really need to talk to you about something. It’s in your best interest...” He said carefully in an attempt to satiate my awkwardness but trailed off to leave the sense of wonder in the room.

  I caved despite my better judgement. Even though it both looked and sounded as though the men were about to give me the worst news of my life. I moved to the side and shut the door behind them as they entered.

  My house wasn’t really messy, but it wasn’t particularly tidy either. The tv still gave the living room its warm glow and my half-full glass still sat precariously on its edge. I checked the clock on the wall. It was two AM. I was surprised I wasn’t much drunker than I felt.

  “Mr…uh…Brendan,” The same man spoke again. “Did you happen to watch the lottery draw today?”

  “I did,” I yawned as I spoke, only half interested in the conversation. “Fucking William Cross” I muttered angrily.

  The men looked at each other slowly, apparently having some mental conversation that I wasn’t a part of, like twins, or FBI agents with an agenda.

  “My name is Ben Jones and this is my colleague Anthony Hardman” Ben spoke authoritatively.

  I shrugged nonchalantly but didn’t offer a reply as I didn’t recognise either of the names, although he made it sound like I should have.

  “Did you know Mr Cross at all?” He asked.

  I furrowed my brow. “I let him in front of me at the shop where he bought his winning ticket. If you look closely at his winner’s picture you can see my hand.” I said quietly through loosely gritted teeth, the pain still fresh in my mind.

  “Would you be at all surprised to learn that Mr Cross died last night?” Ben continued his line of questioning.

  Wait, were they questioning me about this guy’s death? I felt as though the next question was going to be ‘and where were you on the night of the second…?’

  “Whoa, I never even really met the guy, I just held the door open and…” I raised my hands in defence as I quickly protested, making a concerted effort to unclench my teeth.

  “We aren’t here for that” Ben interrupted my flapping. He’d recognised how this had all seemed and now looked to diffuse the situation. “Are you familiar with the rules of the lottery?”

  I thought for a moment. Of course I was familiar with the rules. Get a ticket and one person wins a free ride to play Freedom Online. What kind of question was that? I nodded.

  “I don’t think that you are.” He said, which kind of hurt my feelings but I could let it slide.

  “OK,” I said slowly, not grasping his meaning.

  He passed me a small booklet from his pocket that had been bookmarked with a sticky yellow arrow, obviously to draw my attention to a specific notation.

  34.5.9 If the winner of the lottery collects their prize, they may then gift or sell their rights to their prize without prejudice. However, If the winner of the lottery of a given week is unable to collect their prize due to medical reasons, or in the event of their death, the winning number will be increased by one and the next ticket number will be pronounced as the winner.

  It seemed to me that there were actually a lot of terms and conditions for a lottery, but who was I really to question the wisdom of Rapture Entertainment, God bless them.

  I read the paragraph in disinterest twice before I realised why I was being given this information. My breath caught in my chest and my eyes widened.

  “Me?” ‘Well holy fuckaroo’ I could only form a single word as my mind began to spin.

  “You” Ben agreed and both of the men nodded, big smiles now drawn on their faces.

  ‘Shit.’

  I couldn’t gather my thoughts quickly enough and noticed in shock that I could now see my own face on the TV, apparently it had caught up with our current situation. I blinked silently. This couldn’t be real. ‘This isn’t happening’.

  “You have been added to the list of approved winners. Your pod awaits you in the London FIVR centre on Charlotte Street. Do you need directions?” It was apparently Anthony’s turn to talk.

  I didn’t need directions, I’d stood gawking at the Charlotte Street centre on many occasions ever since they’d started shipping server banks inside on the bright orange pallet trucks.

  “No, I know where it is,” I answered, still shell-shocked. “When can I go?”

  “Your place is reserved as of right now.” Anthony continued speaking. “We usually expect winners to take a few weeks to get their affairs in order…”

  ‘God it sounded like I was going to die.’

  “…you know, tell people they’re going to be away or ask their employers for a sabbatical.”

  “No, I don’t need any of that,” I replied quickly as the excitement inside me built. I had no family to speak of and I wasn’t currently working. I’d managed to buy my own house outright with my inheritance money so ‘professional tv critic’ was my job for the moment – i.e. not something that I’d have to apply for a leave of absence from.

  “Can I go right now?” I asked excitedly.

  “You are free to do whatever you want, it’s your place,” Ben spoke again. “We… wanted to let you know that you can also sell your pod to anyone you wish. The last one actually went for three million pounds.”

  He might as well have not said anything because I didn’t hear it, and even if I had I wouldn’t have cared. There really was no amount of money that could have bought me away from experiencing Freedom Online.

  “Well, let's go!” I announced happily and made a move for the door. I didn’t even pick up a coat.

  The two men took the hint and exited the house before me, which gave me the chance to finally remember to turn the TV off and lock the door behind me. I didn’t even spare a moment to say goodbye to the place before I put the keys in the masterlock key safe and texted my friend Charlie – well more of an acquaintance actually - to let him know what had happened, and if it wasn’t too much trouble to look after the place while I was away. Honestly, I couldn’t really care less for the long-term planning right now. I was going to a FIVR centre to play Freedom Online!

  It all seemed way too good to be true. Was I dreaming?

  My house was an hours’ travel across London to the FIVR centre and in any other circumstances I would have loved the ride in the stretched limo that took me right from my front door all the way across town, but it just all felt like wasted time now. My mind kept saying hurry up and you’re falling behind, it was as though the players that were already in the game were streaking away from me now and I was at the bottom of the pile.

  For a pair that had expected me to take a week to enter the game, bringing the limo seemed like an extraordinary stroke of luck, but again I was too excited to stop and take heed of all of the goings on around me. Who really cared about the why and how at this point anyway?

  The game itself was somewhat of a mystery as the minimum term was yet to be surpassed by any of the players. That meant that there was no user content available anywhere at all, no player accounts, no guides, no walkthroughs and certainly no live streams. That meant that Rapture Entertainment had the ability to govern what people knew about Freedom Online, and what they’d released was somewhat limited. All anyone really knew was that it was set in its own fictional world, which predated modern technology and included magic, mythical races and a huge open world to be explored and experienced. It was all just to tantalisingly discreet.

  When we arrived at the FIVR centre, I unconsciously held my breath as we crossed the threshold as though I was a bride being finally married after dreaming of it for so long.

  The inside was pristine, white gloss and glass and ultra-modern. A reception desk was unmanned and I could see the pods through a glass wall behind it. Ben and Anthony ushered me into a changing room with huge man-sized lockers for me to put any of my things in. I was told to change into a white robe that was provided before putting my clothes in the locker. I had nothing else with me, so it seemed a little strange when I lo
oked back at the jeans, t-shirt and shoes occupying the big empty locker. I didn't care. I could almost taste the game already.

  As I sat in the pod – it was like sitting in a very soft recliner with a pop up glass front - a very pretty blonde nurse pressed a button that caused the pod to close and quickly fill with some kind of cooling mist, and as I was about to drift into unconsciousness, I was aware that somewhere thin needles were entering into my body very carefully and almost unnoticeably. I wasn’t really a fan of needles or medical tubes but the combination of my almost unconsciousness, the nurse’s smile, her low-cut nurse’s uniform and where I was about to go completely took my mind off it. It’s not like they caused me any pain anyway.

  Eventually I could do nothing to fight it, not that I wanted to anyway but I fell into a deep sleep almost immediately as the anaesthetic entered my body and did its work. First, my arms went cold, then my chest, lips and finally my eyes. My vision faded to black and all of the sounds of the real world sunk into the darkness.

  Welcome to Freedom Online

  If this is your first time within a FIVR Centre, you can be assured that your physical body will be well looked after and when you are ready to leave Freedom, it will be exactly as you left it. At that time, you will also be reminded to reclaim any belongings that you may have left in your storage locker.

  Please Note: By playing Freedom Online, you are hereby waiving any rights you have to claim damages to your person or possessions during your time in the FIVR Centre. For more information and to view the agreement in full, please click here.

  The next screens are your character selection. You can always tell system messages as they are shown with a grey background, like this one. Each type of message has its own colour scheme, which you will discover in-game.

  I found it odd that I was being directed to ‘click here’, but when I focussed my mind, I was indeed able to ‘click’ where the notification indicated.