WetWeb (5 page)

“Somehow sharing my experiences with a remote user gave me new confidence and a new appreciation for the sights and sounds around me.  Even a mundane walk at night became more interesting.

“Then what happened?” Franklin asked.

“That’s it
,
” Anand said
,
“He walked me down to Jack London Square.  Together we used my eyes to look out at the sailboats that were heading in to dock
,
and at the containerized cargo ships that were being unloaded by the tall cranes.  Then, after a short while, Chris guided my body back up Broadway and back to the office
.
“

“That was my first experience with The Hat
,
and the systems that would eventually lead us to Synaptic Derivation.”

“That’s it?” Franklin asked, clearly disappointed.

“You were hoping for some action, you want to write a big action pulp feature?” Anand responded
.

Franklin did not answer.

“Do not look so worried,” Anand continued
,
“Tomorrow I will tell you about the cowboys in China.”

“Pulp: A slang term for a WetWeb experiential feature which is intended to provide sensational stimulation and gratification to the remote user.  “Pulp” features typically employ prurient and offensive subjects and themes.”

- WetWiki

A warm red sky greeted Yang as he pulled on his boots.  He kicked at the ashes from last night’s fire to see if it would re-ignite, but the embers were dead out.  It had lightly rained during the night, his bedroll was wet, but at least the dust would be down for awhile.

He brushed his horse and then cinched the saddle tight.  The horse was a strong tall stallion.  Once saddled, the horse stamped on the ground with his hoof, impatient to get going, ready to run.

Yang, however, was in no hurry
,
but knew from experience that a player would be connecting soon.  The sun rising in China meant the sun was setting on the other side of the globe
,
and the players would be finishing their day at work and looking for some fun and adventure.

He adjusted the interface device on his head and attached the tactile pressure sensors against the skin of his back, arms
,
and legs
,
and
then
finally the tiny pressure sensors along his hands and fingers.  Next
,
he donned the thin squib jacket with its multitude of explosive blood pouches.  As he dressed, he watched a flock of black birds flying low over the blue-black fields.  Against the yellow sky he could see the silhouette of a bird of prey circling, looking for breakfast.

Yang breathed deeply.  The air smelled clean.  So much cleaner since the plastic brush factory was bought and shut down by the RSI Games Company.  The smog that hung like a fog about his small town lifted and now clean winds swept across the landscape with smells of grass and rice and horse.

Next Yang dressed in his outlaw uniform.  He wore a black shirt, dusty and sweat stained.  He tied a faded bandana loosely around the neck.  He buckled his belt around his thin waist and then the holster.  He wore his holster low, below his hips.

Yang scratched at the singular whiskers protruding from his chin and cheeks.  At only nineteen year
s
of age, Yang had a few thick black whiskers that he only shaved when he was not inside the game.  Yang thought that the thin beard contributed to his outlaw persona.

Finally, he set his oversized cowboy hat on the top of the interface device and pulled down on the brim so as to cover the device from view.  The cowboys at Wild West Alive, all looked a little strange in their oversized hats.

The smell of hard wood burning joined with the other scents that drifted up to Yang on the morning breeze.  From his vantage at the top of a rise, he could look out across the valley and into the town of Squabash.  In the first light of morning, he could see tendrils of gray smoke rising from the black chimneys that protruded from the flat timber roofs of
the town
.  Squabash was the manufactured western town built by RSI Gaming.  Squabash is the center of action for the players
,
now also the home to many of Yang’s fellow hosts.  All of the hosts in Squabash were required to wear an interface device, but not everyone would get players who were interested in controlling them remotely.  The barber
and
the blacksmith would often get
several
days in a row without any player bothering to take control of their bodies. 

Yang knew that the smell of smoke from Squabash meant that the denizens were cooking hot food
,
and this thought made his mouth water.  All he had to eat was a dry breakfast.  He swallowed a bite of hard bread and then a bite of dried salted beef.  The food was cold
,
but the sun was up now and began to warm him from the outside.  He had to hurry now
because the
players were probably already waiting for him. 

Once he finished loading the leftover food and his bedroll into the saddle bags, he checked the action on his rifle and made sure it was loaded.  Next
,
he pulled his six
gun
from the holster, opened the cylinder
,
and made sure it was clean and loaded as well.  He fetched some fresh bullets and pushed them into the empty loops on his holster.  The bullets loaded into the guns and on his holster loops were real bullets, but the lead had been replaced with a dense rubber.  The bullets were strong enough to burst the blood packets on the squib vest that he wore beneath his clothes.  When struck, the squib vest triggered a small explosion which opened the clothes and sent blood spurting out of the simulated wound.  When this happened the hosts were trained to pretend they were shot and this combination of acting and specials effects were sufficient to create a realistic wild west gaming environment.  When fired at close range, the rubber bullets left a nasty bruise on the skin.

He was ready.  From his shirt pocket
,
Yang retrieved a small packet with a round yellow pill.  He swallowed it with a long pull on his canteen.  Then put the canteen around the saddle horn.

He looked out across the valley. Yang admired colors of the fields that were turning from dark to gold and green in the new light.  He watched
as
the sky turn
ed
from yellow to blue.  He breathed deeply. 
Slowly.
 
Allowing his heart rate to slow.
  He was entering into a hypnotic state.  In his mind’s eye he was leaving his body.  The mental image of
himself
rose up and drifted above his body which stood gazing out over the fields below. 

He was with the blackbirds now, riding upon the warm up currents of air. Drifting and dancing, spinning in circles and climbing higher into the crisp morning air.  Below him he watched as his now semi-conscious body lifted his right arm to find the Interface device on his head.  There
was
a switch located behind his right ear.  He pressed it and he was on.

The player immediately connected.  Yang was not surprised.  Yang’s outlaw persona
,
Eli
,
was a popular character in a popular game.  There were plenty of gunslingers in Squabash
,
but some were more popular than others.  The player controlled the gunman remotely, but reflexes and physical ability were still ingrained into the body.  Experienced players knew that successful adventures require
d
a symbiotic bond between player and host.  Yang was gaining in popularity and that meant he was worth more
,
and would earn more as players bid for control of his body.  It also meant other players would be gunning for him.  If another less popular player could beat him in a gunfight they would take a shortcut to popularity and earn more for themselves.  At Wild West Alive, reputation among the players directly translated into how much you were paid.

Yang and the other hosts could also earn money by attracting viewers.  Only one player at a time could remotely manipulate Yang’s body, but there was no limit to the players that could participate as passive viewers.  Being a viewer at Wild West Alive was pure voyeurism.  The viewer could watch, hear, smell
,
taste
,
and touch along with the player, but only the player could manipulate the actions of the host.  Attracting viewers meant you were earning money from multiple players simultaneously.  However, to achieve this required a high reputation.  Viewers would not stay long if the action was not worth watching.

Now Yang was a semi-conscious observer of his body.  In his meditative state, he was aware of the player’s actions, but remained only a passive observer.  Sometimes, if the player was having trouble, Yang could assist in the action.

The player started his manipulation of Yang’s body by looking around the campsite.  The player looked out across the vista of fields and meadows that Yang had looked at moments before, but with none of the same appreciation.  The player was looking for adventure and orienting himself, he did not care about the color of the fields or the delicate flight of blackbirds upon the warm morning breeze.  The player walked Yang around the dead campfire to confirm the controls were working properly.  He practiced a quick-draw and then opened the cylinder on the six-gun to ensure that it was loaded. 

Next
,
he pulled a thin black cigarillo from a pouch in the saddlebag together with a book of matches.  He put the cigarillo between his teeth, struck a match and started puffing.  Yang hated this rough smoke.  It hurt his eyes and made his throat dry.  Players rarely stopped to drink water as feelings of thirst or pain were not transmitted by the device. 

Yang had gotten used to enduring the saddle sores on his backside and the burn of whiskey on the back of his throat.  His knuckles were calloused from bar fights.  But Yang could not acquire a taste for these thin black cigarettes.  The player did not know Yang or what he liked.  To the player, Yang was Elijah, better known as Eli.  Eli was an outlaw who drank strong whiskey and fought gunfights in the street.  Eli liked to smoke rough tobacco
,
and the player wanted to taste that smoke.

Now the player waited.  Yang also waited wondering what adventure the player would pursue.  Soon they heard horse hooves climbing to the top of the rise.  The player did not draw a weapon, so Yang new that this was a pre-arranged meeting.  He also realized with dread that they were planning on going after the morning stagecoach.   Robbing the stagecoach is a dangerous adventure. 

The bullets are rubber and the bullet wounds are really on micro explosions that splatter fake blood from the squib vest worn under his clothes.  But the stagecoach is quite real.  Jumping from a running horse to a moving stagecoach is a dangerous stunt.

Yang knew men from his village who had been crushed by the wheels of the stagecoach.  They would never work as a host again.  Mangled arms or ruined legs.  The RSI Game Company kept these handicapped ex-outlaws employed.  They were back at the factory spending their days sewing up ripped costumes or replacing the l
ead bullets with rubber slugs.

Two riders crested the ridge.  Eli recognized Sam and Gus.  They both wore dusty cowboy costumes and both were wearing an interface device protruding from oversized cowboy hats. 

Gus reined in his horse
and said
,
“
Howdy Eli
.
”

Eli touched his hat, “Gus.”

In their real lives, or their lives before RSI Gaming Company purchased the plastic brush factory and employed almost everyone in their village, Gus was Yang’s cousin.  They knew each other quite well.  But they were trained to speak in short terse sentences in order to improve the illusion that they were tough outlaws.

Players could speak to each other through the hosts by simply speaking into their remote interfaces or synaptic suits.  If a player spoke, the host was trained to simply repeat what was said
,
word for word.  At the same time, hosts could speak to each other, but the hosts were trained to keep their independent conversations at a minimum and relevant to the situation.

“Any sign of Injuns?” Yang asked his cousin.

Yang was not asking about Indians.  Like many hosts at RSI Gaming they used code words to communicate news and information from their village
,
which was only six miles east of Squabash
. 
Yang
, however,
and the others were completely cut-off from communication while working as a host. 

By asking about Indians, he was asking about his family.  Yang’s mother and little sister lived alone in the village.  When he got time off from his job as an outlaw he would go and stay with them.  Yang had been serving as a host inside the game for weeks without a break.  He was anxious for news about his family.

Gus replied, “Two days ago, I saw smoke signals.”  He pointed roughly to the east, towards home.  Smoke signals were good news.  This meant he had seen Yang’s family and all was well.  Yang nodded in understanding and flashed a grateful grin at his cousin.

Yang worried about his little sister, Liang.  Liang was turning fifteen next month and was growing more beautiful every day.  He did not want to see her working as a host in the Squabash saloon or worse.  Yang was determined to earn enough money as Eli the outlaw to pay for her to get away, maybe even go to a University.  When he was “Off” he would return to their small house like a hero.  Liang would follow him wherever he walked.  She was proud of her big brother who was becoming famous and making money inside the game.  Yang would hold her small hand in his rough hand and tell her stories of gunfights and bank robberies as they promenaded about the village market.

Everything in Yang’s plan depended on his popularity.  Yang got paid based on how much players were willing to play as “Eli” the outlaw.  The players who only viewed the action paid less
,
but they were unlimited.  If Yang could attract a player who was controlling the action
,
and 10 or more observers
,
he would net a very good payday.  Lately Yang had been doing well.  His popularity was on the rise.  Robbing the stagecoach and other dangerous stunts are the best way to grow a reputation with the players.