My Virtual Darcy 🏆 2021 Wattys Shortlister

13 - Get Help

"Yup. That's how I'm gonna die."

A flock of teenage girls eyed me, frightened by my out loud affirmation, but an awkward 'hello' sent them back to their selfie. A dozen duck faces later, they shuffled away to the Mount Royal Chalet, leaving me alone and anguished in the brick courtyard facing Montreal's skyline.

I leant on the stone railing circling the observation deck, enjoying the dazzling colours that autumn had splashed upon the canopy. The maple trees rivaled with vibrant shades ranging from vermilion to bright yellow, their fallen leaves forming a fiery, crunchy carpet. But though many considered this season to be the most typical of Canada, my heart longed for the comfy, fluffy, white cloak that would muffle up the city this winter. Too bad I would be dead by then.

What kind of idiot accepted a rendezvous with a stranger, in the middle of the woods, right before nightfall? I could picture the headlines: "Foolhardy girl found in dumpster. Lower half of her body still missing."

Unless I had misheard what Darcy had mumbled. Did he really say "Kondiaronk Belvedere", or did he invite me to "come see a monk, buy a bear", whatever that meant? In that case, I was waiting for a fictional character and would soon crawl back home with shame.

However, no doubt could subsist as far as his last sentence was concerned. He had recommended, nay, commanded for me to stop sleeping with the Bridge on. This left only two possibilities: Darcy was aware that he was an NPC inside a game and broke the fourth wall for an unknown reason, or there was a human behind the machine and they wanted to see me. Which brought me back to the serial killer theory.

"Hello."

I screamed and jolted around, raising both arms in a pathetic karate chop. Gosh, was it all I could summon under pressure from Mom's kravmaga lessons?

About ten feet away from me, a hooded figure stumbled back, palms held up in surrender. Careful not to startle the martial artist sleeping within every Asian, they removed their hood, revealing a sheepish, lopsided smile.

"Theo?"

"Yeah, ahem, hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." His thumb indicated the building behind him. "I had to wait for the group of girls to leave the area."

"Why?" Though I was relieved to recognise him, facts and stats about victims knowing their murderer sprang to mind.

He ran a hand through his hair, then on his face, resting it on his chin. With a pensive sigh, he replied, "I'm not allowed to meet with Bridge users outside InfiCorp."

"Why?" I repeated, still unsure about this encounter.

Theo motioned towards the low stone wall, and when we sat down, I kept a safe distance between us.

"Since the Bridge launch, DigHandlers have been forbidden to reveal their existence because it showed how the program worked. If players were aware that real persons were amongst the NPCs, monitoring them and intervening when necessary, many people would freak out, and stick to the standard plot. What's so thrilling and enticing about the Bridge is that everything is possible."

"DigHandlers?"

"Digression Handlers. We're the people in charge of anything out of the ordinary."

"Like when someone sleeps with a non-playable character?" I breathed out the question before I could scold myself against the idea.

A blazing beetroot shade spread on Theo's cheeks. "No, err, sex is very well managed by the engine. There's a whole team dedicated to perfecting realism. Because of the demand, this might be the most thoroughly covered aspect of the Bridge."