1        Soul Bound 1.3      Making a Splash 1.3.3    An Unrequited Love 1.3.3.39 Dual sabres

6:59pm, Sunday June 11th, 2045 Hannover Stadtbahn, Germany, Northern European Union

Hurry up and wait.

Soldiers were used to it, and war reporters doubly so. And while his beat had changed to esports, where the fragging was usually less painful, not much else had changed.

Same old, same old.

Jürgen 'Sand Rat' Lipszyc's headgear was now a clunky tiara rather than a desert-camo ballistic helmet, but it was just as uncomfortable to wear for days at a time, and he still had a boss sending him, poorly briefed, to wait around in a strange place until contacted.

There was less than one minute to go until the appointed time, but the platform's video display ("Sponsored by Sinecure") listed the next underground train as not arriving for another twelve. He looked uncertainly at the five bio-punks kicking around an empty Sparks can at the far end of the platform and didn't notice a silent unscheduled arrival until the carriage had stopped with its doors right opposite him and a low hum drew his attention to a brass push-plate with his name etched into it. He could see a normal assortment of passengers through the windows, but none of them were paying him any attention.

He pushed the plate.

The door opened with a satisfying woosh but when he entered, he found he wasn't standing in the ordinary carriage he'd seen through the windows. Instead, there were man-height oil paintings separating windows looking out onto the platform, a cobblestone floor and a burly bald-headed footman, nearly as wide as he was tall, who was holding out a green shot glass balanced on a small polished silver serving salver.

He took it on reflex and found himself sipping an ice-cold spiced kräuterlikör. The aftertaste was bitter, but alcohol was alcohol. Never pass up a free drink.

"This way, mein Herr. Please to remove all elektronik and change into suiting."

He nearly choked. Speech that bad in the auto-translation age? It had to be affectation. The footman's face was bland verging on menacing and, though he did nothing overtly threatening, Jürgen hastened though the indicated doorway. But in his head, he repeated a mantra that had helped him many times before "Stay calm: don't let them mess with your head. Keep your cool: don't react, but remember everything. Calm and cool. Cool and calm."

Fifteen embarrassing minutes later he returned wearing the full attire of a gentlemen visiting the court of Frederick the Great, including wig, tricorn hat and a razor-sharp duelling sabre. He been told to put everything he'd brought with him into a copper-lined suitcase that had been left open next to the wash-basin; and he had dutifully placed his normal clothes in there, together with the hated tiara he'd been forced to wear and even the battered paper notepad he took everywhere that did more to label him as a reporter than any number of pass-laden lanyards.

But he'd been tempted by the implant that the Americans had paid him to have added to his left eye socket fourteen years ago, when he'd scored permission to interview a warlord of some note. If the CIA had thought the shielding was good enough for undercover work, surely it was good enough to let him record secret footage of the Spreckels at home without getting found out? After all, what could they do; rip his eye out of his head?

On a hunch he sent a shutdown code to the implant and was glad he hadn't cheated when he was put through a full-body scanner before being allowed to sit back down. He hadn't felt the train start moving but the scenery outside the windows was now rattling past.

Or was it?

The train appeared to be travelling towards a moonlit Schloss Lichtenstein on a rocky outcrop high above the Neckar river, surrounded by a forested Bavarian hunting preserve as far as the eyes could reach. He knew the dynasty owned the castle, but that was hundreds of kilometers south of Hannover - unless he'd been drugged unconscious, there hadn't been time to reach that far. Maybe the train was still at the platform? For the first time he missed having the tiara on his head.

As the train slowed down, he caught a glimpse of a skinned creature suspended from a tree branch by its rear legs, still twitching as the remaining blood drained out of it. Then darkness as the train entered a tunnel before coming to a stop and the doors opened, spilling light upon the footman's quickly hidden expression. Had that been hunger? Lust? Jürgen shuddered and practically tumbled out of the carriage in a primal desire not to be trapped in a dark cave with a large predator.

Ludwig was lounging on the lowest of three thrones that had been placed upon a stepped dais at the far end of the audience chamber. He looked at home with wearing soft black leather breaches, a sapphire-studded waistcoat and a calf-length jacket of midnight silk with an eight-pointed cross upon it, picked out in silver thread.

Ludwig spoke in a knowing and slightly self-mocking tone of voice, as usual, as though you and he were both pretending not to be unutterably bored with the trivialities surrounding them: "Jürgen, my good man. Approach my 'living divinity' and don't mind Alywn's antiquated flotsam. He likes to shake hands in person with direct hires, and my little divertissement has caught his eye."

Ludwig winced, then continued: "We can only hope he doesn't see it as a teachable moment. Ah, the ever-lovely Dr. Homright! Attend us, my dear. Arndt will be joining us later, once he has freshened up after his hunt, but first I must insist you tell me everything... about your endeavours on my behalf. And perhaps there are things I can do to help you both in meeting the deadline, hmm?"

Vanessa: "I need more data. I've confirmed at the 95% confidence level that our primary target and the five secondary targets she plays Soul Bound with are behind the launch of these 'Mythoi' robots and from recent trends in 'recruitment'-type messages from the targets I estimate a strong likelihood that they are in the process of mounting a larger endeavour of which both the Mythoi launch and streaming their experiences gaming are just the aspects currently most visible. Over the last 48 hours some private clans have been formed which are almost certainly part of this, and they have just started recruiting."

Ludwig: "If not data, what do the private forums of these clans contain?"

Vanessa: "I don't know."

Jürgen winced. She wasn't selling herself well, and he could see Ludwig struggling to retain his calm pose.

Ludwig: "What did you see, when you joined one and had a look? You did try, did you not?"

Vanessa sounded aggrieved: "Of course I tried. But you do not just walk into these womble burrows. They've introduced a tiara-screened initiation test that picks up on ulterior motives. I'm stymied - this isn't my area of expertise."

Ludwig leaned back, a superior smile upon his face: "Then let us throw money at the problem. I will donate one hundred new Trossi tiaras to Charles University and send a team to install them somewhere suitable by 9am tomorrow morning. They will be customised to send a copy of the user's experiences to your server, without letting the user know their privacy has been breached. You will announce a bonus credit project for your current class that entails the students reading certain types of forum on The Burrow - I leave the wording up to you. You can manage that much, surely? It would be so disappointing if you missed the Wednesday morning deadline."

Had Ludwig placed a faint additional emphasis on the first syllable of that last word? If he had, the pleased expression on Vanessa's face showed no sign that she'd picked up on it. Time to test his own understanding of the situation.

Jürgen: "Your patriarch, Alwyn Spreckels, is a great man. Enough workers toil on Spreckels land holdings and for Spreckels corporations to rival a medium-sized nation; heads of state wait upon his pleasure, courting the good graces of his new media empire. Surely it is you and your father that he values, and the only interest he holds in us and our progress is how that reflects upon you? Truly I am nervous at the prospect of meeting such a titan, and would not wish to waste his time. Would I be right to assume that he can hear everything we say here?"

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Ludwig stopped looking bored, but spoke as carefully as a Mao player: "Not only our words, but even the direction of our gaze and the heat flowing beneath our skins is recorded in minute detail, though we have learned that old fashioned decorations bring with them a mindset that reduces the chances of people guessing the sophistication of the technology they conceal. The lies people tell when they think they can get away with them often reveal more than their truths."

Jürgen: "Few people get to decide which truths they will know, but lying is always a choice."

Ludwig: "Just so."

Vanessa didn't join in but did follow the conversation like a tennis fan watching a rally, turning her head with every change of speaker.

Ludwig: "And while Alwyn could choose to know our every word, I think it more likely he will delegate that task to a secretary that he will then briefly question before entering."

Jürgen: "An expert system?"

Ludwig: "No, although the secretary may use one as a tool. Alwyn doesn't believe in giving power to those who can't be held responsible."

Jürgen: "So he doesn't trust machines to obey him, because they appreciate no reward and fear no punishment?"

Ludwig: "He always says threats may be dealt with via their heart, mind or power, but until it is worth your effort to dominate someone's heart, constrain their mind or cripple their power then it's best to treat them fairly."

The "so they won't see the betrayal coming" was left unstated and Jürgen was wise enough to change direction rather than comment on it.

Jürgen: "Given your interest in tiaras and these Wombles, you seem to have a different approach to using technology. Do you think that is what has piqued Alwyn's interest? I ask because I seek your guidance on how to present myself and my findings to your best advantage. What qualities will he look for in me that will improve his respect for you?"

Ludwig stood up and drew his sabre, holding it up so the light reflected off its polished blade.

Ludwig: "What does a sword tell us about the man trying to wield it? If it is unpolished, the man is lazy. If it is weighed down with gems that serve no purpose, the man is vain. If it is blunt, the man fears being dangerous. A good sabre is strong without losing all flexibility; mostly straight but just bent enough to avoid getting caught up in restrictions. If cheap and low quality, so it serves its function poorly, the man is stupid or desperately short-sighted."

He suddenly performed a pair of Radaelli moulinets with a clockwork precision that spoke of long practice.

Ludwig: "Above all, a sword must remain true to its master, not be ill-balanced enough to betray him by unexpectedly turning when his grip loosens for a moment. A man worthy of Alwyn's respect will choose his blades with care and take ownership of them so fully that they move like extensions of his will."

Jürgen: "And how does he test such blades? Apply stress, to see if they shatter? Try to yank them away from their master? Or stand back and wait to see if the master has the skill to wield them effectively?"

If Jürgen hadn't been watching Ludwig closely enough to catch the faint nod of his head just before sheathing his sabre with a firm click and returning to his seat, Jürgen might have supposed his question had been ignored.

When Ludwig spoke next, his tone made it clear the previous topic was closed: "Now, impress me. Tell me of your efforts to further my interests."

Impress Ludwig? Or impress the true audience - the unnamed secretary who would be staking his life on correctly telling Alwyn whether Ludwig had picked effective subordinates and had 'dominated their hearts'? Definitely the latter. This was a dance Jürgen had performed before. He drew himself up.

Jürgen: "Sir, knowing of my contacts in the VRMMO playing community and the ability at psychological profiling that I have gained while working as a journalist for your company, Vicarious, you selected me to help with the task of arranging an arlife interview for you with a VRMMO player who has caught your interest, in a way that doesn't spook her away or decrease her opinion of you."

He'd caught the clue Ludwig had given that the room's scanners could detect the pattern of physiological cues that accompanied outright lies, but there was always some wiggle room and it probably wouldn't alert the secretary if he just stretched the truth a little and put a bit of spin on it - everyone in the modern corporate environment learned to do that. Since Ludwig was effectively his boss' boss, it would seem more unusual if he weren't blowing smoke up his ass.

Jürgen: "To this end, my first step has been to focus on building a profile of the secondary target known as Bungo and then using that and my contacts to identify the name of the character they spent years playing in the previous version of Soul Bound. This I have accomplished. He was Wing Lan Yung."

He paused for a moment as Vanessa scowled. Her database had included Wellington telling Isabella that Bungo was an advanced alchemist, but the key had been showing the recording of Bungo and Tomsk teaching monks how to catch drops of water with a staff to a cybercafé of bored VRMMO fans. No need to mention how few high level alchemists on Morob used that branch of the staff skill tree, and that only one of them had thrown a massive party for his friends to give away an Aladdin's bank vault of pills, potions and gear just the night before Bungo had appeared at Villa Landi for the first time.

Think like a sabre. Be a sabre! He allowed himself a sharp smile before continuing.

Jürgen: "My second step is to gather enough information about Yung to trace his arlife identity, by talking with those who played alongside him during the last three years when he is likely to have been less guarded about his personal information. From there, the third step will be mainly Vanessa's, mapping where his acquaintance web overlaps those of the other secondary targets, especially the ones with distinctive skill-sets such as Tomsk and Alderney, in order to discover the likely arlife identity of the primary target, Kafana. The fourth step will be to confirm this in person. The fifth and final step will be to provide any additional support you desire in setting up an encounter to your liking."

He'd kept his delivery snappy and professional, maintaining eye contact with Ludwig, trying to seem like a loyal manager seeking his CEO's approval. Shifting how you presented yourself, in order to put an interviewee at ease, was just basic journalism. It helped to think of Ludwig like that: a touchy warlord's lieutenant being interviewed in his own camp. Privately he vowed that before their next encounter he would find a way to get his eye implant's shielding tested against the scanner the footman had used - it was made by Bodyline and he'd noted the model number.

Ludwig: "I approve. How is step two proceeding?"

Jürgen: "We used a mule forum to hire players on Morob to talk about Yung with members of the guild he belonged to. So far we have multiple sources on him being knowledgeable about chemistry, transhumanism, and American pop-culture from the 1960s and 1970s. In personality terms we have varying reports of him being wise, immature, generous, deceitful, competent, unreliable, arrogant and having low self-esteem. Nothing actionable yet, but his unwillingness to tell the same story about his past twice in a row, when combined with mood swings and his interest in escapism, most likely stem from a weak sense of self indicative of a problematic childhood and issues with authority figures. Or that's what the psychiatrist I hired to analyse Yung said in his report."

Ludwig: "Slowly then. Do you have a contingency plan? Can the timeline be sped up?"

Jürgen's survival instincts gave him a kick in the butt. He did not know precisely what would happen if they did not make the deadline, but he knew for certain that he didn't want to be the one left holding the can if that happened. Sorry Vanessa.

Jürgen: "The contingency plan is Vanessa's responsibility, Sir. She will be continuing to spread her focus between all the targets while trying to improve her algorithms. If the main plan based upon Bungo has not generated candidates for Kafana's arlife identity twenty-four hours before the deadline, Vanessa will supply three candidates and locations - the ones that her algorithm gives the highest chance to. We will then arrange for them to be checked out in person."

Vanessa looked like she was about to open her mouth to object, so he carried straight on. Time to show a bit of greed; give the secretary an easy-to-understand explanation of what motivated Jürgen, and reassure him that Ludwig had a sure grip on Jürgen's loyalties.

Jürgen: "I'm planning to attend SoulFestEuro45 at the Fiera Milano. If you're willing to fund it, I'd find it helpful to announce that Vicarious will be sponsoring a Soul Bound tournament team. Dress me up, give me a top of the line Trossi model tiara from Bugatti, and reserve a suite for me in the Carlton; I'll invite prospective team members to dine with me on the finest creations of Fulvio Pierangelini's kitchen and then catch them with a 'new lamps for old' manoeuvre."

He was winging it now, but it worked. Vanessa looked thoroughly derailed, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

Vanessa: "Which 'lamps' do they have, that contain a 'djinn' we need?"

Jürgen: "Get them hungry to be selected, then mentioned that as part of processing an applicant I would need to trade their old tiara for vastly more expensive high powered one compatible with the latest generation, in order to have their character log files analysed for 'play-style compatibilities' or some such. The real reason, Dr. Homright, is that instead of relying upon people's memories of what Yung said years ago, we will have the exact record of every word he spoke to them. Think your algorithm might find some inadvertent clues to his arlife identity, given that sort of input?"

She practically punched the air, her animosity over his handing out responsibilities overwhelmed for now by the scent of victory for her team.

Vanessa: "Hell yeah. Give me the data, and I'll give you the man. No matter how coy someone is, they can't go three years without making a single slip. Nobody is that good."

No doubt she'd reprimand his behaviour later, in a lengthy email suitable for academic departmental in-fighting, but by then it would be too late.

Ludwig: "I accept your promises, Dr. Homright. Let it be so."

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