Chapter Text
It wasn’t too long a trip from Jersey to Canada, in fact the NJ Transit-Amtrak deal was cheap enough that the man wouldn’t worry too hard even if it hadn’t been expensed by his job.
It overlapped with the eclipse just enough that Grant
would spend a few more days over at the job there to catch it somewhere with a good view. He had the special glasses and everything and he looked a bit goofy in them but that was fine. He liked the stars.
His job, a long time ago, was in adaptive intelligence, but what it had been used for was something completely different-he received royalties and license requests from a new trend calling itself the VRMMORPG. Adaptive, ‘real’ games. He could just picture his late friend Henry Jones seeing what had become of their code and chuckled slightly. Maybe he’d’ve liked it. He wasn’t sure.
Arriving in the late afternoon, Grant
dragged his suitcase to the room after checking in, getting dressed in a sharp suit, and going to chill at the hotel bar. He was waiting for a pickup but until he got it he was able to enjoy the view from the panel windows against the bar edge. He could almost picture himself falling off the side with how squeaky clean the windows were. He made sure to keep a firm grip on the side of his chair just in case as he sipped his bourbon.
There was a soft patter up the stairs up to the bar and a figure approached-his outfit was simple but classy and distinct. Today he was wearing a polo and a small set of thick square glasses frames, trying to look rather unintimidating, failing completely and utterly, almost resembling an actor type who happened to own a yacht or two rather than someone invisible. Some people just had that aura, he supposed. What some of his younger friends might call ‘iPhone face.’
His slicked and greasy hair didn’t completely contain his coif against his head, a few pieces still stubbornly sticking up, looking like he slept on it, also hinted at by the exact way his face looked covered by foundation, specifically under the eyes. He was looking towards the pastry container on the bar, and wasn’t focusing at all on anything else. If Grant
wasn’t as vigilant as he was, he might have even missed the patter against the stairs. It was oddly quiet for a patter. He probably thought that no one would recognize or even notice him until he was ready to be recognized, but that outfit still screamed upscale.
Grant
made his way into a standing position to shake his hand, for he recognized this figure, but waited for the other to acknowledge his existence.
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just call them somewhere fancier, and not stick around at some random hotel bar, but he had heard the other was…eccentric, to say the least, and that might have been it. In fact he heard people comparing him and this other man for that very reason. Gustav was his name-he didn’t really market himself with a last name, which he didn’t pry about and respected his privacy on.
Gustav finally made his way over to Grant
and shook himself out so completely that he looked like someone completely different than the well-put-together but wary young man who reminded him a bit of some of his daughters’ friends.
“I’ve only seen you in Zoom meetings, you’re so much taller in real life!,” said the man, with a soft smile, or at least an attempt at one. It seemed like Gustav always felt like he was selling you something even if he was just normally talking-in all likelihood he couldn’t turn his mask off and was in fact more confident like this. Of course bringing this up at all seemed invasive and faux pas-ish.
“…Yeah,” said Grant in response and mentally kicked himself. He tried to absorb some of Gustav’s energy as if it was as infectious as the other man probably hoped it was, and started again, holding a hand out to shake.
Gustav nervously adjusted his scarf, then fidgeted with his fake glasses, and Grant
could almost see a human under everything until he snapped back into something befitting a TV host.
“C’mon! I don’t bite, Grant.”
Shaking the other’s hand (it was firm but calculated, like he spent hours perfecting it), he beckoned him to sit.
“No, not yet,” said Gustav, “I need to grab something to drink. Perhaps something of the ‘energy’ variety. I have been up way longer than I would hope I should have to.”
Grant nodded.
“I think they serve Yerba Mate. Possibly Celsius? What are you looking for?”
Gustav paused, looking almost like a deer in headlights.
“Listen, Grant, was it. I don’t have to tell you jack about what I’m looking for. Not until you listen to what I have to say and realize why it is as urgent as-“ he seemed to blink back into reality.
. “…ohhhh, what energy drink. I thought you were-hmm, if they have Ghost, that’s my preference. Unfortunately I have a sweet tooth which I’ve been desperately trying to get rid of for my own sake. Otherwise, coffee is fine.”
Grant smiled.
“I can buy you a cherry tart so it’s not on your own bill.”
Gustav frowned.
“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you.”
Grant pulled a crisp bill from his pocket.
“Or do you feel more confident buying it yourself? I saw you eyeing them. I won’t poison you, y’know. Not that NJ Transit or Amtrak for that matter would ever actually check that kind of thing…I’m just making this worse, aren’t I. No, I insist. It’s either cash or adding this to my tab. You’re already paying for my hotel.”
“Right. Yes, I am doing that.”
Grant frowned.
“Anything the matter?”
Gustav wiped his hands on his pants with a ‘pat pat’ and took a deep breath in.
“I needed to make sure you got over here safely. I know the transit is consistent but that doesn’t mean anything at all if the bus is late in any way or if you somehow couldn’t get your car, or or or-“
Grant blinked.
“I’m here. Talking to you. What do you mean?”
Gustav clenched his teeth.
“Just…anxieties, y’know. Nothing special.”
Grant took a sip of his bourbon.
“Well it sounded like more than that to me, but okay.”
Gustav sighed. He went up to grab a drink and ended up with what seemed to be a black coffee.
Grant bought two tarts, giving one to Gustav.
“Would be a waste otherwise, now I’ve ordered it.”
“Maybe.”
Settling down into the bar, Gustav’s eyes couldn’t seem to keep still. It seemed like what he was doing was scanning for something, and he seemed to have found it, removing what looked like a black disc from a potted plant and pulling out a cigarette lighter to burn it.
“There might be more.”
Grant’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“Bugs,” he explained, “and not the kind I’ve heard your wife likes to study.”
He frowned.
“But why?”
Gustav pursed his lips.
“Why do you think?”
Grant pursed his lips, removing another from a nook in the ceiling.
“Oh, you’re good. Now let’s hope that there aren’t another number of those pesky things hanging around. Unless you could find those too.”
Grant pulled another dozen from various places in the bar.
“I’m sorry. The static from them was driving my ear crazy. It’s like when I lose my phone and have to turn on the buzzer.”
“Huh.”
After disposing of each of the discs (and sending a hefty amount of cash towards the bartender) Gustav started to talk.
“So… Grant, right? Big fan. You should know I worked super hard on evolutions of the projects you have been involved with after you left. I think it was after the bubble burst. No, it would have to be. Adaptive AI? Inspired, really. For its time, even more so. So when I say this I mean it with complete confidence and a want to protect you and anyone else who might be caught up in this web and not even know that they happen to be in it in the first place.”
Grant blinked.
“Web? What do you mean?”
Gustav frowned.
“Let me continue. There is something truly wrong with VRMMORPGs. And I have reason to believe that something in your code is being triggered to produce this…well, problem’s in the eye of the beholder, now isn’t it.”