Tunnel Rat Volume 1 will be be STUBBING on NOV. 1st!

As he had every four hours for the last month, Algernon ran a basic diagnostic test on the two pods in front of him. As expected, every system was functioning normally. He spent twenty minutes visually inspecting hoses, feeding tubes, medication levels, and settings by hand and eye, confirming what the test had shown him: Everything was normal. Everything was working.

Next was a full medical examination of both people inhabiting those pods. This took longer than normal since the pods had to be kept offline and hooked into his diagnostic system and not tied into the worldwide data net. He'd been tempted so many times to send their data to several neurologists he had worked with before in the hopes that a set of fresh eyes might see what he didn't.

But every time he had paused, considered what would be at stake. They'd have questions about the patient's modified nervous systems, integrated cybernetics, and the patient’s current situation. Even using people who knew how to keep silent, and liked the bags of money he could pay wasn't safe. And he might never get the answers he needed from them and would be needlessly exposing too many of his family's secrets. It wasn't the right thing to do. He knew it was simply the pressure of having no answer to the problem that causing him heightened anxiety. Even solving small problems could cause him stress, and this was a problem that involved the lives of two of his family. That was half of the people in the world he cared about. Half his world was lying in those pods, somehow trapped in a make-believe reality thought up by an AI.

They had discussed if the AI was responsible but dismissed the idea. They knew that WALLY had a dozen rules in his kernel that would stop him from causing this much harm to a human being. Something else was going on here. Something was keeping their minds locked up.

Disconnecting the pods entirely from the game hadn't helped them. Worse, he had detected immediate symptoms of decay in their nervous systems. The electrical impulses along their nerves, both natural and enhanced, had slowed. Total synaptic activity moved downward to 30% of normal in only 42 minutes. After he had reestablished their connections, things had improved, but it had taken two weeks for their brain activity to return to normal. Disconnecting wasn't the answer.

While he had stayed and watched over the unmoving bodies of Nina and Onyx, his siblings Bork and Zander had gone looking for answers. Databases had been ransacked all over the world and experimental procedures examined. They had kidnapped and interrogated over two dozen of the techs who had been working in the facility where they had stolen the MK7 pods. They got a lot of useful information about ways to hack into the game system, but they hadn't found a way to wake the sleepers.

The pods that Onyx and Nina used had been highly modified for a specific scheme. Their old pal Victor was running a new scam to put untraceable underlings into GENESIS, and then use hacked quests to generate in-game wealth to sell to the corporations, reaping millions in real-world cash. Stealing the machines was just another prank to play on Victor. They'd examined the pods carefully, checking for any kind of trap or back door that could be used to find them. And then Bork did the same thing again. Nothing at all could be found that could cause two people to be trapped in the game.

The pods gave each player interesting options. They offered restricted classes that should not be available without years of playing. Not necessarily powerful classes, but each had some special abilities unique to that class. That had been the hook that got Onxy to try out the game. They had no huge projects at the moment other than their ongoing research, and he'd become bored. As usual, boredom had led to something bad. It wasn't good for anyone in his family to get bored.

Onyx had run around in the game for two weeks before Nina had joined him. They had figured out part of the scheme, but it wasn't going to be possible without the full crew. Briefly, they had talked about finding and stealing the other pods and trying to finish the quest with just five people. But they were scattered around the world and had to be located. Another complication was that one had been destroyed in a fire.

The pods and the game had become just another way they amused themselves during breaks. The others weren't as interested in playing the game. Bork was paranoid about everything, and Algernon wasn't sure he'd like being around that many people, real or NPC. Zander thought about stealing a special pod, but could never decide on which special class. Onyx and Nina started playing occasionally but treated the pods like any other game. Just another ancient arcade game or starship simulator like the dozens they had in their headquarters. Until the day they didn't log out of the game, and Algernon couldn't help them.

Zander was sure that whatever had gone wrong had something to do with the scheme but had no proof. But with no other leads, they had acquired three normal Mk7 pods, bought three accounts for the game, and set out to find their friends. They'd explored every nook and cranny in Shadowport and then followed the trail of slavers to Fort Hopeless, and from there into the Imperial Capital. All leads had been exhausted.

Zander and Bork had to get back to their work but were still following leads. Algernon monitored the pods, sleeping in the same room, and running test after test. He wanted to try one more thing, but it was risky. It might mean taking the chance of being seen by the AI. They had the name of the member of the development team who had taken a large sum of money in exchange for adding certain quests, items, and character classes into the game. It was part of his job to create them, but in this case, some of the options were tailor-made to aid in a certain scheme. A team of players with these classes would be able to quickly complete a Legendary Quest. Completing that quest would lead the players to another quest that they could easily accomplish which led to a huge amount of loot. This wealth could be sold for real-world dollars to corporations vying with each other for the control of cities and countries.

They'd like to talk to this person. Preferably in a way that he had no idea of who they were.

They debated simply offering the man more money. Lots more money. They also made plans to snatch him and keep him in a dark cell until he told them what they needed to know. Both plans had large flaws and could generate unwanted attention in the worst way. Still, something had to be done to help their siblings. They were trapped in the game like rats in a cage. Algernon couldn't help but feel that time was running out.

"What's our timeline for being operational, Eric?"

Eric Kresthammer paused, and stroked his beard for ten seconds, buying himself time to think, then drew out the first word. "We...ell...that depends."

He'd used that opening line with John so much it had become a habit. John tended to toss out questions when he was thinking about something and somehow expected immediate answers. Not being a telepath, Eric wanted a few seconds to catch up before he answered.

"Depends?"

"On what question you are actually asking. If you want to throw a press conference, then we're ready. Level 57 has been refurbished. We have working restrooms, lights, air conditioning. The stage and screens are finally up and we have the gardeners working on the landscape non-stop. It's ready. Just don't promise any tours of the pod farms and other things on the employee level."

John didn't like that; he'd already planned a big tour of the entire building. "Why not? I thought we were running ahead of schedule on that?"

Eric smiled. John always focused on the good news and ignored the bad, then acted like the bad news shouldn't exist. They were ahead of schedule in some places, and woefully behind in others. Level 57 was a bright spot in this otherwise horrible project. "Oh, we are. The new engineering firm is worth every chunk of money they charge us. They had the design for the bottom twenty floors to us in less than a day, with all materials sourced, skilled craftsmen showing up for installation, and all five thousand pods ordered and set to arrive when we needed them. This facility will put others to shame. It doesn't look like a prison and has amenities for the workers including recreation and workout rooms, a cafeteria, and individual sleep cubicles for those who don't need to leave the facility. We’re spending money now, but I’ve got faith it will pay off, especially in less time lost to machinery repairs."

He paused to let John catch up. Just because John was smiling and nodding didn't mean he'd heard and processed everything. And that was dangerous because John was the boss and could be impatient, and never read Eric's reports. "But here’s the problem; you aren't going to be able to get down there from the upper floors for another month.”

“The old elevator was a death trap. Bad cables, missing pieces, and rotted infrastructure. Engineering scrapped the whole thing. Everything comes out, the shaft is rebuilt, and new elevators are installed. One high-speed elevator and two that can accommodate both people and machinery. A great system, but you won't have it for a month. Don't promise tours unless you want to use a rickety platform in the next section, or trudge down dozens of stories on the stairs."

John took several deep breaths, mentally realigned his plans, and moved on. "Right. We can change things. We'll simply do a video tour of the stuff downstairs and emphasize how we take safety seriously. In fact, let's get some buttons made that say 'Safety First' and make sure everyone starts wearing one."

"No problem, John, I'll order them now and have 5000 delivered tomorrow."

"Great. And what about the three levels we are converting to living quarters for my family?"

Eric showed him the pictures. “Nearly done. I tried to make it all look like the house on the lake including full wall screens that mimic the windows. They even show real-time views of the forest outside your old residence. The swimming pool is the same size, and we landscaped around it to make it look like what she is used to. Your quarters and a small office are on the top floor. The medical lab is underneath that, and then Belinda's rooms. I'm doing everything I can to make those comfortable for her."

John looked at the pictures. "Great. She'll love it."

"I hate it."

"Belinda, we've gone over this. We had to move here to oversee this project. It's incredibly important to me. To us. To us as family. And to our business. We have to be here."

Belinda moved into the rooms, her motorized chair gliding easily over thick carpets and the uneven ground in the 'outside' area by the pool. "No, Daddy, you needed to move here. I could have stayed home. We'd been there a whole year and I was starting to make a couple of friends in town. Now I'm living in some cave inside the rotting hulk of a mostly abandoned building."

Her father tried to choose the right words. She'd been so much easier to convince when she was seven. "Belinda, be reasonable? Uncle Eric worked hard to make this look like the old house. He even has plans to set up an arcade like that place you went to in..uh...that little town we lived in last year."

Belinda slumped in her chair. Her father would never understand. To him, every place was the same. Somewhere to leave to go to work, not a place to live in. She wondered why they moved at all and just didn't rent a floor of a nice hotel. "Dad, that little arcade with old video games was fun because I had made friends. Friends don't come with the machines."

"Got it. So, no arcade?"

Belinda waved her right hand. "No, let's keep it. Maybe I'll make a friend here. You said tens of thousands of people live in this habitat? Some of them must like games."

John couldn't imagine inviting any of the hab dwellers into his home. "Well, yes, but it will be really hard to meet them. It's not a place for anyone to be running around, especially…."

He was interrupted by Belinda. “Especially poor little rich crippled girls in wheelchairs. I get it. Not like I’d make friends with four of your goons hanging around, anyway.”

“Can you please call them bodyguards, Belinda? They don’t like being called goons. It's bad for their self-esteem. Most of them worked for your grandfather and now they work for us.”

She raced her chair around the area, noting the horrible screens that mimicked their old home. They were a constant reminder that she wasn't there. She'd enjoyed the little time she had spent in the little woods by the house. And she'd never get to go back. But the screens were better than a painted concrete wall, she'd keep them. Maybe reprogram them, one for each of the big gaming channels? That could be fun. She considered the problem of meeting people. You didn't convince Daddy of anything unless it appealed to him. He'd been a lot easier to manipulate when she was seven.

"Fine. Then we'll have a party and invite people from the habitat so I can meet them."

John took note that Belinda wasn't whining or arguing with him. That meant she had a plan and was at her most dangerous. "What?! No. Why would we do that?"

Belinda smiled at him. Her left arm couldn't leave the armrest, but she could type very fast with it. One of the screens went blank and then showed the presentation she was writing.

"First: Publicity. You have a project and you need stories in the news. This will do it. You get those fancy levels ready; we turn them into a gamer's paradise and show what we can do. Invite all those industry professionals you want to impress. You can't launch a new gaming channel just by putting up some footage and hoping people tune in.

Second: We show that we want to be part of the habitat, not just another fly-by-night company.

I want all the arcade games, the good old ones, set up on the next level with comfortable places to play them, and lots of snacks and food. Then we invite a thousand residents of the habitat ages 10 to 17 to come have a party. A lot of them should be the children of the people you are hiring to work in the pods downstairs. We play games and eat junk food for a day. You get lots of great footage for the new channel. We can host competitions. Tournaments always play well on the channels.

Third: Advertise your new Man-Power services by showing in-game events in real-time. Send people on a raid, build a town, construct a castle. Show off what Man-Power can do for a corporation that rents from us.”

Belinda paused. "How's that for a start?"

John considered. With only thirty seconds of work, she had a rough outline for something that could pay off "Looks good. But what are you getting out of this?"

"Me? I'll settle for meeting a few people who will game with me even if it's Ms. Pacman from 1982. And I'm keeping any of the games I like for my own arcade. Non-negotiable if you want my help hosting the party for the kids and organizing the event."

That was a cheap price to pay. "Just arcade games though? What about GENESIS?"

Belinda spun her chair back and forth, thinking. "That would be nice. I have one person I’ve met, someone I really like who adventures in Shadowport, but he's a little bit of a loner. I'm not sure if he'd join my group."

John suddenly had an idea. "How's this? You find four people from the habitat that you want to play with and we have you lead an adventuring party. Stream it over the new channel. "

Belinda's considered that, and then smiled. "That could be fun. You'd have to promise to buy them accounts and pods. And we need a headquarters!"

John tried to figure out what she meant. "A headquarters? Like a clubhouse online."

"Ooh. That's good too! Maybe a dilapidated castle we can fix up. But I was thinking of a real-world headquarters. Where we can hang out when not in the game. Play the latest console games, chug the latest energy drinks, and talk about the coolest gamer gear that has been sent to us as promotional items. Then we can log into the game from the clubhouse."

Ah, that's where she was going. "You're thinking product placement, advertising dollars, endorsements. That could work—a brand-new team of untried gamers led by the lovely Belinda, hero of Shadowport. You could be as popular as Timmy in a few months. You have a hell of a head start from leading that raid. Damn. I should have been there with you. Can't believe I missed a world first!"

"Just wait until we finally kill the boss, then you can be jealous of the real uber loot. My ring was a gift from my friend. I have a lot more loot coming. Everyone who was there does."

John's mind still had a hard time wrapping around the 'gift' idea. "You're sure that thing is soul-bound? You know you could sell it for a cool million right now." Hell, he'd spend a million on it.

"Sorry, Daddy. Soul-bound and all mine. Plus, you don't meet the requirements for Empress."

Her father laughed. "No, I sure don't. Only one Empress in the family. But are we good? You'll forgive me for moving?"

Belinda considered. "If you follow through on the event, the sponsored group, and the compensation for my guys, yes. But tell Eric to come talk to me. I'll help him with the planning. I know you'll dump this project on him immediately."

John winced, he'd already been thinking about calling Eric and doing just that.