Neophyte

Prologue The very air changed the moment they stepped into the room, a dark cloud hovering over them as Hugo held the door open, allowing his wife to enter the boardroom first. The room was extravagant, a testament to the years of hard, grinding work the pair had put into their enterprise. Not a speck of dust hovered in the air or rested on the glass panels covering the walls, nor the marbled furniture that bordered a long black-glass table. There were enough seats for 40 in that room. A large white wall at the room’s farthest reaches featured the charts, tables, and presentations that had been given in the room over the years by a range of the finest entrepreneurs the city had to offer, as well as a few weak-willed, knee-knocking saps who left with their tails tucked between their legs and their pride shattered. This room could make or break a person’s career. The patriarch and matriarch of the Lagarde family knew that well, and had always been careful not to let their egos or pride destroy their humility. They gave people chances. They may have ended people’s reigns, but they always did their best to rule with a fair hand. Olympus. That was the name the room had colloquially been given by those in the Lagarde empire. The holy throne room where the gods of the enterprise sat and ruled. Billions of dollars made. Thousands of employees’ lives changed. And now one man sat alone, back straight, briefcase on the table in front of him as the Lagardes approached. “You’re early,” Hugo said, his voice deep and commanding. Not a question. Rarely a question. Demetri squeaked the chair back, rising and nodding curtly as the two swept into the room and took seats opposite him. He waited until Hugo and Helen Lagarde were settled before returning to his own. “Aren’t I always?” He smiled. Hugo nodded, his straight expression unfaltering. It was something he had developed over the years—a true poker face, unreadable by any save his wife. He sported a short gray beard, and his hair was combed back sleekly. Beside him, Helen crossed her legs, her own hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her makeup was modest but flattering. Their suits were tailored and designed to match and complement each other. They were a true force to be reckoned with. “Tell me, Mr. Smythe, any news about my children? I trust there are no problems or concerns?” Demetri opened his briefcase, filing through a stack of papers covered in the scrawls that he had set down after the sessions he’d had with the Lagarde siblings over the past week. Running through the notes one by one, Demetri listed the complaints and successes he had uncovered. Hector Lagarde was as happy as sin, relishing his investments in the Tesla program and bringing in so much return, it made Warren Buffet look like a coin collector. He did reveal that things had taken a sour turn with his wife Aisha. According to Hector, their arguments had increased in frequency because his tightly-packed business schedule often conflicted with any dating arrangements they made. Even though Hector kept explaining the importance and chaos of his role in the company, Aisha’s patience was wearing thin. Hilary Lagarde had recently flown to China and was exploring the notion of further investment in a range of makeup products that were free from animal testing, eco-friendly on all accounts, and would lower the standard cost of beauty products by a margin of at least 10% across all developed countries. She had recently met the company’s CEO and was now doing her due diligence that the products truly lived up to their claims before investing. The last thing anyone wanted to do was devalue or destroy the family name. Henrietta and Henry had made progress in their development of advanced AI to embed within AR and VR, the company now promising its first major trials within the next few months. They had gone into several disagreements they’d had over the recent public launch of a competitor system by a little-known company called Praxis Games Ltd, and now they were at each other’s throats as Henrietta pushed to launch the games earlier, while Henry preferred not to rush into launch due to panic. Demetri had kept his eyes down when he mentioned that one, aware that Hugo and Henry had signed a contract a little over 2 weeks ago to allow their youngest, Chloe, to pursue her first investment with Praxis Games. The last thing he wanted was for Hugo and Helen to blame him for causing a fracture in their family relations. “I trust you told the twins nothing of our venture with Chloe?” Helen asked, her words calm and measured. Demetri confirmed that he hadn’t. Helen gave a small nod and Demetri continued, reeling off Harry’s and Harvey’s progress (about which there was little to report, other than that Harvey was now seeing some 22-year-old supermodel from the Czech Republic and was flying across the world with Harry and his glamorous wife, attending ritzy functions and keeping the world very much aware of the Lagarde name and its prominence within modern society. Then Demetri pulled out some notes on paper with the Praxis logo in the corner. “And last but not least, there’s Chloe.” Demetri’s eyes met Hugo’s. He couldn’t explain it, but even though there seemed to be no emotion behind those eyes, he felt as though he was being scanned from head to foot. “Ah, yes,” Helen said, shifting in her chair. “How is our little experiment going? I trust that we are already seeing results from the...‘pod,’ was it?” Demetri nodded enthusiastically, swallowing hard. “Yes, we’re seeing progress. Chloe has already made it to the first main town in Obsidian and has a group of three adventurers with her. They’re working their way through the quest to find the rest of KieraFreya’s equipment, but they’re at a bit of an impasse. They’re currently asking around town for any information they can find on Nauriel or the guy who tried to have Chloe murdered, but so far no dice.” The tale spun from Demetri’s mouth like water on porcelain. He had never been a serious gamer, but having watched Chloe’s journey so far, he had to admit that the whole thing was pretty entertaining. He now understood how people could sink hours of their lives into pretending to be something they were not in the digital world. Helen’s nostrils flared, a minute movement. She adjusted her position in her chair, looming closer to Demetri, who sank slightly, his cheeks flushing as he realized just how stupid he must have sounded to a pair of business-minded gods who had likely never played a game in their lives. “I meant, how is the investment? Is the company turning a profit yet? What’s the forecast for the next 6–12 months?” Demetri flicked through the sheets of paper, pulling out several pages with graphs and charts and statistics. Hugo and Helen stared at the pages for a long time in silence. Demetri watched the digital clock on the wall, taking some solace in knowing that, no matter how important or unimportant a meeting was to the Lagardes, they always made their next meeting on time. They were painfully punctual. Hugo made a musing sound in the back of his throat. “Seems aboveboard. Not quite the trajectory that was initially promised, but at least we can say the company is growing. The forecast could be better, but we’re in the clear...for now.” “The company is making strides,” Demetri said. “They’ve been slow to grow due to the beta phase of their testing, but as of this morning, they’ve rolled out the platform to the public. They’re starting in the US, then looking to expand and offer the game to players across Europe and Australasia, then the wider world.” “We’ll trust your judgment.” Helen nodded. “Keep us up to date with the company’s progress, and we’ll hopefully be able to avoid intervening in your work. Good job, Mr. Smythe.” Just as Helen was about to rise from her chair, Hugo placed a hand on hers. Demetri followed Hugo’s eyes to several back-to-back pieces of paper that held dozens upon dozens of lines of text detailing error reports filed by users of the game, and the steps the company was taking to fix them. Hugo’s finger hovered over Chloe’s name. “Our daughter is experiencing grievous physical pain...from a game?” His voice came as a rumble. “Mr. Smythe, please explain.” Demetri sighed, detailing Chloe’s experiences within the game and how Praxis had wanted to make the full-immersion experience as accurate and real as possible. The programming caused the player to experience true pain from injury within the game, meaning that a punch would feel like a punch and a scratch would feel like a scratch. Unfortunately, that also extended to death scenarios in which a player might get cut, burned, or broken into pieces by the game’s various monsters and dangers. “The bug is broadly fixed now. Praxis has lowered the pain receptors for their current pool of players.” “It says here that Chloe is the exception.” Hugo’s eyes bore into Demetri’s. “It says that there is no fix.” “A game-wide patch has been rolled out, but because Chloe was the first into the game and is experiencing the full-immersion version, they can’t modify her pain receptor programming without pulling her out of the game.” Hugo and Helen were silent once more. They scanned the list of bugs, and eventually worked their way to a document that displayed Chloe’s image with a list of numbers and long words that had been pulled straight out of the game’s medical analysis program. “All of her vitals are fine?” Hugo asked. Demetri nodded. “And her in-game demeanor?” Demetri gave a soft smile. “She seems to be having the time of her life.” Hugo’s head turned back to the documents. “It says here that the public rollout will include a live-stream option for the game, allowing anyone who wishes to log in and view. What does this mean?” Demetri’s shoulders slumped as he explained that, since the game was now open to the public, part of the game’s initiative to increase sales and promote virality was to make it so that all gamers were now available to instantly be watched by anyone with a working internet connection. This would work the same way TV channels did, and would mean that those who couldn’t afford the game could whet their whistles watching others play. Praxis’ long-term goal was to bring in advertisers to promote the channels and increase revenue. The live-stream rollout was the update Demetri had been least looking forward to sharing with the Lagardes. Part of the original agreement was that Chloe’s plunge into the game would be under conditions of complete anonymity. No one was to know that a Lagarde was investing in this game, and Chloe was to be given two years free of the burden of her heritage in order to grow as a person and overcome her low-confidence issues from standing in the shadows of the gods that were her family. Now, though… “Does this mean that anyone can tune in and watch Chloe play live?” Demetri nodded. “Although no one will know who the player is. Unless the player specifically gives away their identity in the game, there’s no chance anyone other than us and those sworn to secrecy under NDAs at Praxis will know that Chloe is a Lagarde.” Hugo and Helen chewed on this for a moment before a beep came and they checked their watches in unison. Hugo stood up, casting one more intense stare straight into Demetri’s eyes. A flicker of a warning flashed over his pupils. “See that it stays that way,” he said simply, turning and moving to the door. He allowed Helen to pass in front once more before adding, “and see to it that Chloe comes to no further harm. Tell Praxis the Lagardes are watching them.” With that, he left the room, the dark clouds going with him.