Zero: A Journeyman's Tale

Chapter 1: 'Gotta have Fa1th!'

1:33 - 7:1e:2607:24A5
    Mykhal Keuling slid a small black disc across the grimy bar top.

    "Gimme a tall one Syam." The barkeep eyed the obsidian chip as he scrubbed lipstick off a low ball glass with a soiled rag.

    "Racking up the I.O.U.'s Mick. Got enough now to cash in for a huge favor."

    'The Core' was Mykhal's favorite dive and not because of its sanitary conditions. It was one of the few places in Level 30, otherwise known as Midtown, that still took his preferred form of currency.

    "Don't get any wild ideas, just here for something cold and wet."

    This was also one of the few places that an old taxi driver, the last in the entire city, could go without hiding his face. Inside this long hallway of a bar, the Link was jammed. No blue eyes in here, watching and recording everything.

    The very idea of the vast internet, shooting images behind your eyeballs at the whisper of every thought, always made Keuling shudder. He'd been around long enough to know that when it came to computers, even biological ones like the Link, whatever can go out, can also get in. That's why he liked sealed off holes in the wall like this.

    In its heyday, this place was ground zero for every shady deal in the city. Now it was just a place for the older folks, the first generation who still remembered life outside of the Mega-Domes, to get a moment's peace from this crazy world of points and pop-up messages.

    Keuling was second gen, younger than the fuddy old grandparent types, but much older than the newest round of kids, Dome-dwellers 3.0 he called them, coming out of Primary.

    "Sy, is a game on?" It was a rhetorical question. There was always a game. On any channel, an any vid-site, any time of the day, someone was duking it out. But Syam knew what Mykhal meant. There was only one game worth following.

    The stocky,  greasy mustachioed bartender grabbed the remote, turning on the flat screen in the corner as several patrons groaned loudly.
    "Make it a singles match, will ya?"

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31:38 - 7:1c:3F39:0326
    "Absolutely amazing! What a spectacular finish to the Zone Championships of the 75th Annual SkyBoxer Sims!"

    Sweat poured into cold channels down Fa1th's slender neck. Blood throbbed in her veins, adrenaline made every muscle sizzle as if it were on fire.

    She wanted out of the cramped hot tube but the twinkling blue lights on her Simsuit paralyzed her. She floated helpless in the Simpod when all she wanted was to run out into the mob--her mob.

    "I have never seen such an upset from a first year rookie. She clearly had the winning strategy," said n00bz. On the billboard screen above the arena, a cartoon caricature of Harry Caray gushed over her victory. He was supposed to be some kind of a famous sports announcer from the old world, a time before the domes, when the earth could support life. Fa1th couldn't have cared less.

    The emerald cylinder of her Simpod powered down, relaxing its magnetic grip on her Simsuit. She glided down until her feet touched the smooth floor and the blue gems on her arms and legs turned black.

    Finally the door swished open with a rush of cool air and the chaotic cheers of thousands. This was the moment. The moment she had dreamt about, fantasized of, hungered for with a deep insatiable ache ever since she saw her first SkyBoxing match. 
    "Let's hear a few words from our new Champion!" n00bz disappeared from the billboards and appeared as a holographic avatar in the middle of the arena.