CD Chapter Nineteen (Patreon)

Getting into a brand new bodysuit, even with only one good hand, was a hundred times easier than getting into her old, worn-out one. No need to be careful of fragile filaments, she could just tug until it was in place. Once she was changed, Ava looked around. Amythyst had left her alone to change, and she walked over to the pod, staring at it.

The lid was open, and it was still on the half-clear, half-opaque setting that Amythyst preferred, so it looked like nothing so much as a half-full tub of semi-liquid blue gelatin. She reached in, poking it with a finger, and a slow, dense ripple spread out from the intruding digit, quickly settling back into placid calm. The gel was precisely the same temperature as her body, and it was hard to even feel it except for the slight resistance against her skin. When she withdrew her finger, the liquid slid back into the pod, leaving her hand only slightly damp, not wet.

“The molecular strands want to stick to each other a lot more than they want to stick to you,” Amethyst offered from behind her, and Ava jumped, whirling around. The Ai grinned, looking entirely unrepentant. “The remnants easily wash off with just water, and break down so it can drain into the regular sewer system. There’s actually a shower built in here for when you’re done.” A blue circle in the ceiling lit up, and a small section of floor slid aside, revealing a mesh-covered drain, then closed again.

Ava glared. “You said you’d leave me alone until I called you.”

Amythyst shrugged. “You were taking forever. I was afraid you hurt yourself again, and didn’t want to admit it.”

Ava huffed, but couldn’t deny that if she had managed to reinjure her hand, she would rather suffer in silence than call for help. “Fine,” she muttered. “How do I do this?”

With a victorious grin, Amythyst twirled her hand, and a model of the pod appeared in the ‘air’ beside her. A stick figure climbed in, settling onto the hammock-bed, then pulled its mask down over its face. “You’ll need to attach the oxygen hose yourself, which isn’t optimal, but it’s pretty well foolproof, even for someone using their non-dominant hand.”

The stick figure reached over, pulling something from the side of the tank. A hose appeared in its hand, and it attached this to its mask. A helpful inset image showed exactly how to use the fittings to make the connection, and it did, indeed, look simple. “In a home environment, the hose would feed in outside air, though all pods come with a small oxygen tank, in case of emergencies. In hospitals or other care facilities, the feed will be either pure oxygen, or whatever the doctor or anaesthesiologist selects.”

Ava held up her hand. “Whoa. Anaesthesiologist?”

Amythyst nodded. “While someone in long-term immersion would receive mild sedation through the gel itself, we hope that these units will someday be used in hospitals for patients who are stable, and simply need complete bed rest. It is possible that some of these people - for example, people with dementia or mental illnesses - may require involuntary hospitalization. Someday, surgeons may even be able to work on - and communicate with - people who are immersed!”

The AI’s face was alight with enthusiasm, and she leaned forward, excitedly outlining her hopes for the future. Ava suspected that, in that moment, she was looking at Amy Landon, exactly as she had been before her accident. She was clearly dedicated to helping people, and Ava’s hesitance about what she was doing hardened into resolve. Amy Landon was worth saving, and if Ava could help rescue her, she would.

Since her mother’s death, Ava had tried not to feel anything for anyone. She had only allowed Amanda in as far as she had because Amanda was young, healthy, and so very insistent in her attempts to befriend Ava. Surely, though, it was safe to like Amythyst? After all, a computer program would never be injured, never grow old, never get sick, and never die. Ava never had to fear losing her.

“That’s amazing,” she offered, letting a smile grow as she looked at Amythyst. The AI paused, stuttering, and blinked.

“What… just happened?” Amythyst asked, gaze completely focused on Ava. “You smiled. Like, really smiled.”

Ava looked away, forcing her smile back into her habitual half-scowl. She forced a shrug. “Your ideas sound really good, that’s all. I smile.”

Amythyst muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “No, you don’t,” then cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the mini-pod. “Once the door is sealed, air attached, and all systems cleared, the gel will rise, fully surrounding the occupant.” The stick figure closed the hatch, laid back, and blue rose to completely fill the pod. “This will feel strange, especially when the bed drops down, and you feel like you’re floating in space. Continue breathing normally, and you’ll get used to it after a minute or so. When you feel comfortable, just proceed with your normal log-on routine.”

They both turned to look at the waiting pod, its door still open invitingly. “The pod will be completely full?” Ava asked nervously. “No air pockets anywhere?”

Smiling reassuringly, Amythyst tapped the little door of her model pod. The stick figure pushed against the door from the inside, the blue fluid drained almost instantly, and the hatch popped open. “There are fail-safes built into the fail-safes. For your peace of mind, you probably don’t want to know all of the ways our engineers thought of to, ah, negatively affect the occupant, but I hope you believe me when I say we also thought of ways to prevent them all. There’s effectively zero chance you’ll be injured inside the pod.”

She hesitated, but went on, “There is a very small chance of being trapped inside, after the gel is drained, but that’s actually a fail-safe itself. If the pod detects an unsafe external environment, it will remain closed as long as it can protect the user. In case of fire, for instance, it sends a distress call to the nearest fire station, uses its tank of oxygen to keep the occupant alive, and can withstand temperatures exceeding any expected in a normal house fire.”

Ava shook her head. “That really is amazing. People are going to want to replace their beds with these things.”

Amythyst made a face. “That’s a danger, yes. We actually want the pods to improve people’s quality of life, though, not replace it. The long-term immersion pods will only be available in a clinical  environment, under the supervision of medical professionals, including mental health care providers. Pods available for use at home will limit users to no more than eight hours of immersion per day, which is still sixteen in-game, which is plenty. The gel is also slightly different, and while it’s completely safe, it doesn’t provide any benefits beyond being a perfect medium for interacting with VR. Medical-grade gel is much more expensive, and needs to be rigorously tested daily to be sure it’s free of contaminants or unwanted chemical changes.”

Ava, who was perched on the edge of the pod, with her feet already dangling in the gel, stopped. “Is that likely? That it can be contaminated or become dangerous?”

Amythyst waggled a hand. “Likely? No. Less than a 1% chance, unless someone, ah, produces biological waste unexpectedly.” Translation: go to the bathroom before you get in the pod. She did a quick internal check and decided that she should be all right for now. She’d gone earlier, and while she’d eaten, her body still seemed to be working on a deficit.

Nodding, she slid into the pod, settling into the sling-bed. It was surprisingly supportive, and she didn’t feel unstable at all as she laid back, pulling the mask down over her face. As soon as it settled in place, it flickered, and fed back an image of her surroundings. If she hadn’t known she had it on, she would have thought she was still looking directly at the interior of the pod.

Glancing to her right, she saw that a small section of the wall was glowing, and she touched it. It opened obligingly, and a few inches of hose protruded. When she tugged, it extended easily, and she attached it to her mask just like the stick figure had, though it took her a few more tries. Drawing in a careful breath, she found that the flavor of the air had changed subtly, but otherwise it felt the same. She laid back and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the gel rise around her, and as it did so, and the bed dropped away, she was glad she wasn’t watching. It was exactly as strange as Amythyst had said it would be.

When she thought she was ready, she spoke. “Emily.” Her voice cracked, and she tried again. “Emily, start Veritas Online.”

The world went dark, and she fell. She felt like Alice, dropping through an eternal rabbit hole, spinning helplessly in the air, except there wasn’t even anything to look at. When she finally did stop, the shift was nauseating, and it was all she could do not to lose her breakfast. ‘Biological waste’, indeed.

Blinking open her eyes, Alpha looked around. Oddly, she wasn’t curled up in the corner, where she’d been when she logged out. Instead, she was crouched near the door, and a piece of material that looked suspiciously like Mai Ley’s robe was thrown over her. She shrugged it off, noting with pleasure that she didn’t feel any pain when she used her right hand.

A red drop of what looked like blood was flashing slowly in the upper left corner of her vision, and when she consciously noticed it, it expanded without her having to do anything else.

Current Blood supply: 1011/1805

She narrowed her eyes. Hadn’t there been something in her stat sheet about going berserk if she lost too much Blood? She pulled up the sheet and scanned it. Yep, there it was; ‘When reduced to 50% Health, must seek blood. When reduced to 10% health, enter Berserk state (increased levels in [Berserk] improve control)’.

Scowling, she went to open her Skill tree, and the skill she needed popped up before her eyes without her having to search for it. [Berserk] - Level 1 - Lose control of your body, attacking any living creature nearby, whether friend or foe. It was usually a Barbarian class skill, though anyone could get it simply by attacking wildly and randomly enough in a few melee battles. Alpha preferred to avoid combat, but when she had to fight, she used her skills to attack in the most efficient, deadly way possible, so [Berserk] wasn’t a skill she’d ever expected to have, and most definitely didn’t want.

The moment she was done reading, the text vanished, and she looked around. There was no sign of Mai Ley, and no one else was around, either. That was all right. If she just needed blood, there were always rats, birds, and other small animals, and surely a few of them would do. It might be disgusting to drink their blood, but really, it was no worse than killing them and eating their meat. Right?

She reached for the door, intending to push it open, and a jolt of pain flashed through her as she contacted some kind of barrier. She heard a crackle, and when she glanced at her hand, there were black burn marks on the skin.

You have lost 25 Blood Drops.

You are Burned.

You have lost 2 Blood Drops due to Burned.

She shook her hand, grimacing. Great. She was trapped, and not only had she lost more health, now she had a Damage over Time status ailment. She thought about Burn Ointment, and it appeared in her hand, instantly called from her Inventory. She applied it to the injury, which thankfully worked, since she remembered too late that some healing potions and items could now injure or even kill her. It would have been just her luck to get a chemical burn from the medicine.

Before she could decide if she should call for Amythyst, or just try to find another way out, the door opened, nearly hitting Ava in the face. Mai Ley walked in, looking completely undeterred by Ava’s glare. The priestess briskly crossed the room, producing her dagger and slicing her palm again. As the blood poured into the bowl, she looked back at Ava.

“I apologize for my absence,” she said, ignoring the crimson flooding from her hand. “I had a few minor matters to attend to. As you likely know, now that the former leader of Bloodhaven is no longer in this world, people keep trying to take over the city.” She flexed her hand, shaking off one last red drop, and revealing the unmarked skin of her palm. She lifted the bowl and held it out to Alpha, who thought she could feel her mouth water as the contents swirled invitingly.

Before she consciously decided to do so, Alpha was across the room, guzzling the blood from the bowl without even bothering to take it from the other woman’s hand.

You have restored 822 Drops of Blood. Your Health is now full.

Your Mana and Stamina regeneration will double for the next twelve hours, thanks to Powerful Blood.

Swiping her sleeve across her lips, Alpha growled at Mai Ley. “What does that have to do with you?”

A tiny smile touched the priestess’ lips as she responded. “After the last city leader was found… wanting, the Gods decided to create a test for future Travelers who wish to take a more active role in governing citizens of our world. The test is simple but,” the smile grew wider, “rigorous, and the nearest three high priests are called upon to act as, ah, proctors, of a sort. Three of us remain in Bloodhaven at all times, since we are called upon so often.”

Alpha suppressed a shiver. Whatever test made Atae’s High Priestess smile like that was something she, personally, hoped never to experience. Fortunately, she had exactly zero interest in taking on responsibility for anyone other than herself, so it was unlikely to become an issue.

“Fine,” she said, shrugging it off. It wasn’t her problem now that she was fully restored. “But you have to take that barrier down. I need to get to a Traveler’s Guild, so I can contact my,” she hesitated, but the word didn’t sound quite as strange on her lips as it would have even a few days before, “friend.”

Mai Ley nodded. “It is done,” she said, simply. “I would caution you, however-”

Alpha was already back at the door, throwing it wide. Sunlight streamed in, and her skin sizzled. A flood of damage notifications filled her vision, and she barely managed to close the door again before staggering and falling to the floor.

The priestess knelt beside her, and the hard rim of the bowl pressed against her lips. Alpha sucked at the still-warm blood, and her health recovered again. When it was full, she pushed the bowl away and forced herself to a sitting position. Glaring at Mai Ley, Alpha gritted out, “Why didn’t you warn me?”

An eloquently arched black brow reminded Alpha that the woman had been trying to do exactly that, and she flushed. “Fine,” she muttered, standing. “Thanks. What am I supposed to do now, though? I can’t spend half of my time locked up in windowless rooms.”

Mai Ley tilted her head. “I believe that when there were many of your kind, they used tunnels to travel from one place to another during daylight hours. In more recent times, however, vampires have simply used a special form of [Stealth] granted by their God, Apofis.”

Alpha shook her head. “Even if his followers weren’t currently cursed by half the rest of the pantheon, I wouldn’t pick him as my deity. He’s a total misogynistic apple tart.” She hesitated as her mind parsed the difference between what she meant to say and what she actually said. Clearly, Amythyst’s prohibition against cursing was still in place, but the capricious AI had changed the category from which the replacement words were being pulled.

She thought Mai Ley smirked slightly before continuing, and made a mental note to ask Amythyst  if she had a hobby of impersonating NPCs. For now, though, it was faster to just pretend she hadn’t noticed.

“Any other suggestions besides learning to dig faster or vowing my undeath to a,” she saw the anticipation in the priestess’ pale eyes, and made her own change before the system could do it for her, “less-than-optimal god in order to get a skill he might or might not decide to give me?”

Quest: “Find God(dess)” available.

You need a deity to die for. Or not. Seek out the closest non-denominational church and pray for a good one.

Success: A new God(dess). Boons. The Vampiric [Stealth] skill.

Failure: Start digging.

Alpha groaned. Looking up at the plain wooden ceiling, she asked, “Can’t anything ever be easy?” She would have sworn Mai Ley snickered.