ARC II
CHAPTER FOUR
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
'So I'll see you tomorrow then.'
Brent waited till Louise hand passed on his message – in much more formal language, of course, and waited for the princess's farewell. He sighed in relief as he logged out, and removed his headphones – and noticed Adant standing by his shoulder.
'So what's going on, then?'
Brent sighed again.
'So yeah, when I said not to fix my computer, I meant it. In fact, don't even touch it from now on.'
'Whats Going On?' Adant was just about growling.
'My computer's buggered. Or cursed. Or something. Seems every time I load a game, I end up in the same spot. Seems to be a real location on the other side of the monitor too... kinda weird though...'
Adant scoffed. 'They got magic. That place Can't be real. Also... hello? Your game avatars can interact with them. It's fake.'
Brent shrugged. 'They don't react like any bots I've ever seen. Maybe your right, and it's all a prank. Or it's some sort of advanced game being streamed in over the net or something. Believe me, I've been thinking about it. But what if it is real? You killed someone in there earlier. Turned out to be a bad guy, but you killed someone. If this thing is real, they're dead. Could have just as easily killed one of the teachers, or the students...'
He sighed again.
'I'm working on the assumption it's real. Because if I treat it like it's real and it's not – no harm done. But if I treat it like a game and it's real... Anyway, please stay off my computer.'
Adent nodded reluctantly. 'I still think it's fake, somehow. But I can see why you wouldn't want to test that.'
He paused.
'By the way, what's with your results on my laptop?
'What?'
'My laptop. Battle results screen is still up. And I've been looking over your past battles. No-one gets results like that.'
'Not sure. I think it might have something to do with this whole... thing.' he said, pointing at his computer. 'Only noticed it this afternoon. But then, this is the first time I've played since my computer started acting up.'
'But... That's my laptop. If they infected your computer, that's one thing, but how could they...?'
Adant paused, in thought.
'Come with me. I got a mate across town with a gaming computer. We need to see if it's the computers, or if it's you.'
He grabbed Brent by the arm, and started dragging him to the door.
'But... study...'
His protests ignored, the front door slammed, and a minute later, their car left.
AN HOUR LATER
Adant and his friend stared at Brent as he obliterated the players on-screen. The cries of 'Hax' and 'Bot' were constant. They'd been playing for close to three-quarters of an hour now, and Brent's Kill/Death ratio was at an insane level.
Brent sighed and leaned back from the keyboard, match over.
'So', Adant's friend said. 'Ever think about playing professionally?'
THE NEXT DAY – 3:30 pm
...The native given most characterisation is Friday. After his rescue and conversion, Defoe portrays him as being better than Robinson in all ways. He is a better shot (Robinson Crusoe, 216), a better Christian (Robinson Crusoe, 204), and proves more capable in a crisis (Robinson Crusoe, 274).
Although Robinson still treats the rescued and converted Friday as a social inferior, this should not be taken as Defoe's beliefs about native inferiority. Robinson himself subjugates not only natives, but Spanish and British subjects as well. The sub-theme of social dominance within the novel is complex and well worth exploring, but lies outside the scope of this paper...
Brent sighed wearily, and took another sip from the cup of tea by his side, long since gone cold. He opened up the tab with the MLA referencing guide, cross-checked, and deleted the second and third Robinson Crusoe. Then took another sip of his cold tea, sighed a second time, and kept reading.
...These lurid and almost parodic descriptions do appear to be excessive, but is Dutheil's reading corect? The novel is not short of fantastic descriptions outside of its depiction of natives. The boys' island is described as a paradise and despite the constant claims of the author to the contrary, inconvenient truths are often either ignored completely or mentioned only in passing. The coconuts on Ballantyne's deserted island can be opened in seconds with a broken pen-knife, and the coconut milk within tastes similar to lemonade. (24-25). Hunting and Fishing takes no great skill to master (48, 77-79) and shark attacks – while dangerous, can be foiled by quick thinking and pluck (53).
While Robinson Crusoe tells us that with months of hard work, perseverance, and a ship full of tools, any aspect of civilisation can be recreated, similar achievements are accomplished by Ballantyne's protagonists in a few days using nothing more than a broken pen knife...
Brent's mind drifted. The surprise here was that Robinson Crusoe wasn't as unrealistic as Coral Island. Fiction usually wasn't realistic. People used it to get away from the problems of their life, after all, and the way books tied everything together at the end re-affirmed that life had some kind of meaning, even if we were unable to see it. Happy endings might be cliche, but they were cliche for a reason. Of course, main characters that effortlessly burned through their problems didn't lead to the most interesting of stories – usually. The Coral Island book was a case in point. Although it was possible to have overpowered characters and still have a fun story. There was superman, batman... pretty much every super-hero movie, really.
He frowned.
Of course, suddenly becoming overpowered like that could cause as many problems as it solved. Like himself in that... game world thing. Tristonia? He could do so much damage there without even thinking about it if he wasn't careful. What if he loaded some gigantic spaceship, or an aircraft carrier or something? It'd probably crush everything in the academy. And that was just the obvious dangers.
The words of his assignment sat patiently in front of him, and he sighed, took a third sip from his tea, and continued reading.
...While aimed at an older audience, to the modern reader Robinson Crusoe reveals the same dissonance. While Robinson Crusoe becomes a devout Christian throughout the book, he has no hesitation in killing his fellow man when necessary. Violence is not held to be unchristian, and is even shown to be sometimes necessary in preforming your Christian duty...
Brent changed 'preforming' to performing' absently. The crowd yesterday had seemed rather ambivalent at his housemates execution of the thief. He'd even been praised for it. A society where death was commonplace... Brent frowned. Of course, there were many places in the world where the death penalty still applied. But there was usually at least a trial first. And an executioner isn't someone who would normally receive praise. The values dissonance between his own culture and that of this 'Tristain' place... He frowned again, and shook his head, before checking the time. Forty-five minutes till it needed to be submitted... He got back to work.
ONE HOUR LATER
With a pop, Brent re-appeared by the newly-restored stables. Adant had been torn between staying for the meeting and going, but in the end, he decided a weekend at the beach with the girl he had a crush on was more important.
Set up in front of him was a small pavilion, underneath which sat a variety of nobles snacking and lightly talking with each other. Imposing looking guards stood around the tent.
His arrival was noticed immediately by the guards – one of which turned and notified what appeared to be a VIP table. The nobles seated there stood, and Brent recognized Louise and the princess. The conversation from the other tables died down, as they noticed their main guest had arrived.
The princess slowly walked towards him, with Louise and one or two especially-important looking nobles following a step behind. Four of the imposing guards walked with them, trying to assess him and what sort of threat he might be.
The princess stopped before him, and looked him over.
'You are... Brent?' She sounded a little confused. 'You look different from the human form Louise described.'
Brent nodded – but they wouldn't see that.
He spoke into the microphone... but she gave no sign she heard.
He sighed. This particular game didn't have voice-chat, so it made sense..
The princess was looking a bit antsy at his lack of response as he tried bringing up the text-chat box – but of course it didn't have one. This game was single-player, and didn't need chat...
At the princesses uncertain look, Louise stepped forward.
'Orange trousers and a white top – and female... He looks different. But kind of the same too. Wrong in the same way.' She looked Brent in the face. 'Ok, if you can understand me... If you're Brent, move from left to right.'
Brent tried. His commands weren't working...
Louise snapped her fingers. 'Right, I locked your movement again when you re-appeared. Brent, you can move now.'
He sidestraffed left and right.
'Can you talk at the moment?'
He stopped moving.
'Well how are we going to do this then?
He was still...
Louise looked at him expectantly.
He stood there quietly, and there was an expectant silence... Then, with a 'pop', he was gone.
Louise sighed. 'Idiot.'
FIVE MINUTES LATER
Brent re-appeared – This time in the same soldiers outfit he wore before.
The princess turned from her conversation with some of her nobles, and turned, waiting.
Brent glided up to her – at a walk. Wishing vaguely that the animations for walking didn't look quite so militaristic. He changed the voice chat to 'direct', and dropped into a crouch.
'Your highness'
The princess gave a small start at actually hearing him, but not enough to break her composure.
'You may rise.'
He returned to his feet.
'Brent – Familiar of Louise. I have already heard much of your abilities, and observed them for myself yesterday. You are bound as Louise's Familiar, as she is now bound as your mistress. Yet I have been told your will is still your own, and you have no great desire to serve Tristania. Have I heard true?
The princess was holding herself well, but there were subtle signs of nervousness. Her words seemed a touch stiltish – as though they had been written by one of her advisors. She really wasn't born to rule, was she? A figurehead? But the time for wondering about that wasn't now.
Brent looked at the sky, then the ground, attempting to nod. Then wondered if that particular mannerism meant the same thing in this fantasy culture. But it seemed it did, as the princess was continuing her prepared speech.
'None the less, with your abilities, you could provide a great asset to Tristain, and we would greatly like to obtain your willing co-operation – both in assessing your full abilities, and in your help, should we need it. Our reports tell us within your world you are a student. Within Tristain, students live upon a limited stipend. If the same is true within your land, we are more than willing to compensate your time richly.'
Brent snorted. It was a pretty speech, but clearly not thought through.
'None of the things I obtain here – tools, weapons or money, carry over to the real world'
The princess frowned at 'real world', but hesitated before answering, biting back her words.
'Brent', she said finally. 'You might not see this world as real. It has no real consequences for you. If you die, you respawn. If you get injured, you heal. If you obtain goods here, you tell us you cannot use them in your world. But I assure you, this world is very real for us. Around you – in the Academy, is one and a half thousand students and teachers. Each of those has secret worries, dreams for the future, friends and family they care about, and a life they are very much involved in – each of those is a real person. Outside of that is Tristania – with tens of thousands of souls, each just as important, just as real. And outside that is Halkeginia, with hundreds of thousands of lives.' The irritated nods of the nobles around her – and Louise's scowl suggested the sentiment was wide-spread.
Brent was impressed. The girl was in her element when speaking for herself, rather than parroting someone else. And... she had a point, too. All the same...
'I'm not a hero. That is, I'm not generous enough to give my life for the sake of others. Yes, I can recognize that you are real. But I have my own worries I need to take care of. The 'stipend' provided by the government for my studies is low, and leaves me with very little money. The degree I'm studying leaves very little free time, and most of my energy goes into learning the material they provide. Yes, you are all real, and perhaps I should put the needs of the many in front of my own – but I don't.
Completing this degree is my dream. I've been working towards this for five years now. And I'm struggling with it.' Brent paused, hating to admit weakness. 'Some days, I think it's all been a big mistake. That I'll never be able to get through it. Some days, it seems I have more failures than successes. But I keep going. And as long as I do keep going, I can get through it.'
He paused.
'But – your asking me to give this up. To provide a substantial amount of time to helping you. In wars? In building projects? To study magic? It doesn't really matter. If I divert any amount of time and energy away from my studies, I will likely fail. For good. And maybe I should. Maybe I should do the noble thing, and sacrifice my dreams for the sake of people I have never met. But I'm not that noble. I'm not a hero.'
There was an embarrassed silence as his words finished. He looked around – half defiant, half ashamed.
He expected Louise to look apoplectic with fury. Oddly, she wasn't. There was the dismay, as expected, but - was that a look of sympathy?
Most of the nobles were looking at him with hidden anger, and he heard mutterings about how Louise should have a firmer control over her familiar.
The princess herself – she was looking disheartened. She was clearly searching for something to say, but... And then one of the nobles came up and whispered in her ear, her expression cleared, and she nodded. The noble turned and spoke to Brent.
'If you choose to help us, our payment need not take the form of goods, it can just as easily take the form of services. We are able to communicate, yes?'
Brent nodded.
'Then we can pass on ideas. We are able to make our royal tutors and best scholars available to you in exchange for your services. We can guarantee one to one tutoring for as long as you desire. Would this be acceptable?
Brent considered the idea, looking for problems. 'But your tutors are unlikely to be familiar with the subjects I study'
The noble nodded. 'None the less, you would have the finest minds of the kingdom at your disposal. Even if you only study the same subjects together, studying with others – especially those already well trained, can give you their insights as well as your own. If you are struggling with your studies, I might say you can't refuse this offer.'
He was right. There might be problems with this that Brent couldn't see yet, but – the noble seemed to be right.
Brent nodded cautiously.
'I agree with it – for now. But – my studies come first. If I find my grades slipping further... it's all off.'
The noble nodded, relieved, and stepped back. The princess once more spoke up – going once more into her prepared speech.
'We thank you for your support. We have already seen a number of your wondrous abilities, but in order to see how you might best serve the kingdom, we request a demonstration of all your abilities. And forms.' One of the nobles coughed. '... without destroying anything', she quickly amended.
Brent grinned. 'With pleasure'
AUTHORS NOTES:
For those who are interested, 'Coral Island' was written about 130 years after Robinson Crusoe, and is famous for (among other things), being the origin of the romantic stereotype of the pirate.
Coral Island has apparently been popular since it was first published in 1858, and according to Wikipedia has never been out of print. The reason for its popularity is beyond me, as the book is utter garbage, and had remarkable similarities to poorly written fanfiction. If you ever see it in your library, I wholly recommend you leave it on the shelf. If you ever have to study it in school, then you have my commiserations.
I would have preferred to indent the assignment extracts, or change their font or size, but the formatting options for are rather limited - so underline it is.