Tour Group 5947

Roster 1.2

He'd been blitzed on Heineken, at least eight bottles. That's what they said. Her father's old Ford pickup had been wrapped around an oak tree off old Bob's Road in Brunswick while the fog hung low over the coastal plain. She was eleven when her mother remarried and she had been sent to live with her grandparents just outside of Omaha. About three degrees south of Nowhere, USA. To this day, she doesn't bear any ill will toward her mother for that selfish decision—after all, her mother was a worthless parent and her grandparents were great people.

Even as she first walked through their house just outside the city limit, she had the strange feeling that she was home. The worn sofa and rocking chairs smelled of cinnamon rolls and coffee beans, and occasionally she could catch the scent of her grandfather's old Marlboro cigs from the dulled purple carpet. Everything was always warm in that house and her legs were always hot and she could remember watching the coverage on the news, on an old curved-screen television from the 2050s. Her grandparents always muttered things under their breath, about terror bombings and plane crashes. She was born just after the war, just after whole cities had been razed to the ground. It was an era of "peace," at least the headlines proclaimed. Charlotte never bought all that though, not even when she was sixteen and watching as the peace parades floated down Main Street America.

Peace isn't a real thing. Not by her definition of the world, at least. And though she never really buys into Webster's and popular opinion, she can sometimes see the allure of so-called "peacetime politics." Maybe all of that rhetoric is why she's so comfortable outside of actual reality.

At least in the virtual world, everything is upfront and…can be controlled.

The world outside? It's barely-contained chaos. The war had thrown the world into pandemonium and, even after nearly twenty some-odd years of peace, the tension was still lingering. That's what killed her father, really. He had been a soldier in the Middle Eastern theatre. Couldn't handle the acclimation to civilian life. Drank himself into a tree at seventy miles per hour. That whole generation was doomed to newspaper endings, to the point that the newspapers didn't bother printing about the drinking and drug deaths anymore.

Charlotte glances at the bedlam that surrounds her, trying to keep calm. Each of her tourists gaze at the unbelievable sights, each remarking on the utter brilliance of the Ride. It seems almost lifelike, so real. The blond American is shouting. It seems to her that he is the mouth of the group, clearly the loudest and most boisterous of the personalities. She's more than comfortable with it, having dealt with more than her fair share of loud tourists. Across the room, the white-haired man is letting out a string of German curses as his loincloth becomes a very lovely dress. Charlotte can't withhold her snort of amusement and she turns around just before he—Gilbert, she remembers—sees her laugh.

It's bad form to laugh at a customer, after all.

Her attention fastens onto on particular tourist then, whose sharp eyes seem to be taking in every single noticeable detail. His hand draws along the wall and the chalk of the stone crumbles onto his palm. A smile pulls at his lips and she notices that he has customized his wardrobe already, using the outfitting option on the second button of is uplink aids. His long hair is pulled back into a single ponytail at the nape of his neck while a gold and turquoise neck collar sits on his collar bone. Gold painted sandals seemed to complete the look and he nodded to himself, clearly pleased with his attire.

It's something rather rare, she realizes.

Not very many make use of the UIAs so early in the trip and it's clear that Wang Yao is going to be one of the more clever users of the outfitting options. There are times, irritatingly enough, that tourists do not even try to blend in with the Game. They wear their worn lime-green tennis shoes and their Coca-Cola t-shirts without thinking of best practice. Wang Yao? He's setting his role as a middle-class merchant, likely to gain himself more security once the game truly begins. Charlotte gives an impressed hum and looks toward the window. He's discerning, that's for sure. Most (those that understand the concept of blending) take the role of a soldier, as Alfred has already outfitted himself.

Most tourists like the idea of a soldier, without giving thought to the role.

Rarely do tourists ever choose unassuming merchant attire.

Warriors usually have more flash, but the rare merchants were far more tactical.

These people—Charlotte glances around once more— know how to play the game and stay alive. Her lips quirk into a small smile as she nods. It seems there were three merchants in the group now, with Bonnefoy making quick and well-chosen changes to this attire. Another blond, with a smaller build and a baby-face, was also outfitted in a white merchant frock. Gold bangles rested around this thin wrist. So, he was a very well-off merchant. With the way his blue eyes took in the surrounding appearances, it seemed his choice was a calculated move. Money is power, after all. Charlotte covertly reaches down to press an information button on her wrist. Tino Väinämöinen. She resolved to never attempt pronouncing his last name.

You're all set. The letters flash in front of her face and she nods her head, dismissing the tourist info. The past fifteen minutes had been spent allowing the tourists to choose their own outfits, taking on the robes of various classes. It gave the game time to acclimate to the tourists' thought patterns, outfitting the experience to their respective choices. With fifteen tourists, it was a veritable cluster of excitement. One could think of it as the Adjustment Period, preparing them for the oncoming gameplay. Difficulty: Level Five. Respond?

"Level—What?" Her heart leaps into her throat. Her voice strains a bit. "This is supposed to be a bird, David. Verify: Level Zero-One. Read-out: Seven Wonders Level One. We're in Safe Mode. Verify." She keeps her voice low, not wanting to alarm any of the customers. "Verify: Level Zero-One. Help me out here, Technical."

She feels her muscles tense a bit in her chest at the possibility of a Level Five. Level Five is…Her head shakes and she glances upward, waiting for a HUD response from the Contact Tech. A few moments pass and she settles onto her left foot, pressing her thumb onto her outfitting UIA. The hem of her dress falls to dust the floor. She needs to appear busy or she might arouse the suspicions of her tourists. Her hair is tucked into a mess of curls at the nape of her neck, turning a deep brown to avoid suspicion among the population. Blondes are far from common in ancient Egypt. She notices that a couple of the blonds in the group mimic the action and she resists the urge to smile. They are smart at least. She removes all adornments and settles for a middle-class artisan. The HUD is still blank, a flickering blue light indicating that a response was being typed.

…

. . .

"David, verify Safe Mode. Level Zero-One. I repeat: Seven Wonders of the World. Level One. It's a bird, David." A little pang of worry is lodging itself in her chest, writhing there. This could be a problem. These tourists wouldn't survive a Level Five, no matter how perceptive they seem to be. She could barely survive the Real Deal. Hell, she'd died more times in the Real Deal than she cares to admit. If anything went wrong, she'd have to—"Anybody up there? Answer, damn it."

A moment passes and she can see the countdown clock vaguely in her peripheral vision. The game was set to begin in two minutes. She doesn't allow the panic to gain too tight of a grip. Instead, she decides to up the ante a bit. Time to pull out the "big guns" as her grandfather used to say. Her hand waves and she pulls up the perimeters of the tour, waving a hand through each page of data until she arrives at the information she needs: the listed level of difficulty and the protocols for completion. Her breath heaves at the binary code that is underlying the protocol list. She couldn't understand it, a glitch in the system? Lord only knows. She's not a tech.

Seven World Wonders Tour

01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01100010 01100101 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101000 01100001 01100011 01101011 01100101 01100100 00101110 00100000 01000111 01100101 01110100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100001 01100100 01111001 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101111 01101110 01100101 00100000 01101000 01100101 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110010 01101001 01100100 01100101 00101100 00100000 01101110 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 01110011 00101110 00100000

Level Five. Level 05.

"What the…" she breathes. It can't be right. Level Five is only accessible to military personnel. It was the Real Deal. It was…Civilian tours were limited to Levels One through Three. Safe Modes, varying in difficulty. Gaze flickering to the lightening eastern horizon, she angles herself to step outside of the small house. "Please remain inside until I return," she explains hurriedly. The tourists have little time to respond before she shuts the door on them. She was far from accustomed to such anxiety at the beginning of a ride.

Charlotte takes a deep breath and looks upward. Usually, the techs are paying attention to the virtual world through monitors in the tech room. "David, a little help would be nice! This is a Level One. Someone, please verify. Level One. This is a bird. A bird, Safe Mode! I repeat: Level One, Safe Mode. Does anyone copy?" Her eyes alight to the red button on her arm. She has never pressed it before, never left the game before completion. She hesitates, almost unwilling to tarnish her perfect record. Something is wrong though, she can feel it. She's been through enough simulations. "Tech support, if verification of difficulty is not received in ten seconds, the ride will be termin—"

Sorry about that, Charlotte. She lets out a sigh and lowers her hand from where it was poised to terminate. Relief floods through her, even as her heart thunders in her ears. Verification: Alpha-Foxtrot-Six-Eight-Niner. Confirm difficulty set at Level One. Repeat: Level One difficulty. Alpha-Foxtrot-Six-Eight-Niner—confirmed. Got caught up..

"That was a little too close for comfort, David. Level One happily confirmed. Set to go at sunrise. Initialize the gameplay. And let's hope the pharaoh is in a decent mood today." She turns on her heel and opens the door, a polite smile masking her irritation. Always a smile, always a calm demeanor.

Really, she wants to throw something.

Ah, the customer service industry.

"What was that all about?" The British man—Arthur, she recalls—steps forward. His skin seems pale with the off-white burlap shift and darker brown pants. No jewels. No adornments. Just a piece of khaki fabric wrapped around his head, blond hair brushing his forehead. He looks…unbelievably accurate. For a moment, it's a bit staggering. She'd seen plenty of warriors and a few merchants, but even rarer was someone willing to outfit as a lower class citizen. It is even more unassuming than Yao, Francis, and Tino and that is impressive enough. What a strange group, she muses. "Is there something wrong with the ride?"

Her smile brightens and she shakes her head, reassuring them with a wave of her hand. Part of her wants to slap David the Tech upside the head for making her job harder than it already was. Another part just wants some greasy fast food and a half-made bed. "Just prepping for the start of the ride, sir." She speaks in her best service voice. "Is everyone ready? In just a few moments, the same will start. With sunrise, we will receive our objective. As I stated earlier, it seems the pharaoh has learned of our presence. In order to reach the next level, we have to find an artifact that possesses the power of Sekhmet and use it to unlock the gate. If we're captured, we'll be imprisoned and killed. Only one person has to acquire the item for the whole group to pass this level."

"That is the only objective? To find this artifact? How can we know where it is?" Ludwig questions and Charlotte gives herself a mental pat on the back for remembering his name. Years of practice paying off in spades. He steps forward in his palace guard attire with deep blues and bright golds. A guard chestplate sat on his muscular chest. She notices that his gaze flickers toward the door every few moments, as if someone might burst through unannounced. Perhaps former military? She remembers her father doing something similar. "Surely, there must be an efficient way to find this item."

"Glad you asked, Ludwig. We're about to find out." She gestures toward the door. The sun is rising from behind the horizon in the window, painting the ancient landscape in auburns and golds. The turquoise sky makes her smile a bit as she waits. Her HUD brightens and she can see the tourist's eyes widen in the morning light. They were seeing the text, clear as day before them. It is always mesmerizing, when the HUD brightens like that. Beautiful.

GAME START.

Then, as per usual, the door bangs open and a young man strides into the house with a scowl on his face. Charlotte crosses her arms and greets him with a pleasant smile, anticipating his usual responses. He ignores the gathered people, intently settling down his basket of goods onto the wooden table at the other side of the great room. This particular artificial intelligence always made Charlotte grin—his pessimistic personality is perhaps one of the most realistic in the entire experience. "Hello there, Kaunisut. You're looking worn." He stiffens and turns to face her, brown eyes narrowing at the sight of the crowd. It's the same every time and his lips press together in a frown. Charlotte resists a chuckle. "Rough day today, then?"

"You have returned," the man responds a moment later with a slight up curve to his lips. His gaze turns to the assembled group. "You are in for a difficult go of it, my friends. The pharaoh has heard of your presence. He has a whole platoon of guards looking out for any suspicious foreigners." Kaunisut reaches up and brushes a hand through his dark hair, letting out a sardonic chuckle. Charlotte feels her smile shifting into a smirk. "Let me guess, Guide." That is her name here among the locals. "You have brought yet another group of untried into the lion's den. A cruel trader, you are. Your business is sure to suffer if you continue to test the pharaoh. That poor woman from the previous group—" His head shakes solemnly and Charlotte recalls the woman who had charged right into the pharaoh's throne room declaring her ownership of the Sekhmet artifact. Naturally, that woman found herself in the Spin earlier than most. "You best pray to the gods that these men are less foolhardy than your previous…caravan."

Charlotte thinks for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. "It would be more of jackal's den, wouldn't it? Lion's are more Nubian." Kaunisut snorts, shaking his head at her quip. He busies himself with his wares once more, ignoring the stunned spectators. Even the sheen of sweat on his shoulder appears authentic. "Jackal's are a bit more frightening, too."

"You are strange, Guide. Always have been. A strange woman."

"Strange, but ultimately right." Kaunisut sends her an amused look that the tourists cannot see. She crosses her arms in response. "Besides, you like strange women. Just look at Tauret."

"Clever word play," Arthur comments with grin. All attention shifts his direction and Charlotte can see Kaunisut observing the various assembled men, dark and critical eyes already accounting for their choices in attire. She could almost swear that she saw a flicker of entertainment there. "Anubis, the jackal god and lord of the underworld. You say that as if we're walking right into the arms of Death." At Charlotte's stunned expression, he preens. Very rarely does anyone understand the exchange. She shakes her head. No, no one ever gets the references in this initial exchange. "Yes, well…I am certain very few tourists have a vested interest in Egyptology, Miss Charlotte."

There's a snort from the corner and Charlotte sees Gilbert covering his mouth with this hand. "Typical," someone else mutters under their breath. With the glare the blond sent toward the Frenchman, she guesses that it was him. Francis brushes strands of hair from his face with a flick of his hand. "Someone get the man a crown, s'il vous plait. Non, I will bet there is not one large enough for his enlarged head." Charlotte actually does laugh, but wrangles it in just when Arthur sends her a glare. "Need I remind you of Description de l'Égypte? Who was the first to have interest?"

Charlotte confusedly stares between the two men, brows knitting together at the reference. What in the world was he talking about? What was Description de l'Égypte? When she glances back at Kaunisut, she notices that he has busied himself with his wares once again—Well, this group held his interest longer than most. That was something at the very least. Stealthily, she presses the UIA and selects the previously spoken phrase.

Further confusion strikes when nothing comes up but a series of symbols. Panic launches through her for a moment before she dismisses the screen with a wave of her hand. Perhaps it just didn't catch Francis's words. That had to be it.

- ... . / -.- -. - .- .-.. . -.. -. . / - ..-. / -. .- - .. - -. ...

21662564 10067565 35020156 33673441 032050

"—never been known for his subtlety," another—a broadly smiling brunette— comments with a slight accent the guide cannot place. He throws a friendly arm around Francis, grinning like a cat with eyes on a particularly scrumptious canary. "Charging around the world conquering this and that, of course he has his fingers in the Egyptian purse, si?" The canary is far from amused. Charlotte notes the Spanish lilt and immediately reconciles this brunette with Antonio on her roster. It was profiling perhaps, but it seemed that most of the names were fitting with their origins. He shrugs his shoulders and motions forward. "Go on then, amigo. So eager to impress."

"Shut it. I was merely expressing my interest in the topic. Not as if you didn't sail around the world tossing in your lots with every land you could find." Charlotte can already see the group dividing into smaller cliques. It seems that Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis are likely to be some sort of alliance. "Oh! Is there gold here? Here?"

From the way they are glancing between each other and smirking, she can only fathom how quickly one of them will die from some supposedly 'clever' idea—most ideas like that equated to eventual FUBAR status. Many times, she had seen men gather into groups like this and perform essentially the 'look what I can do' measuring contests. Charlotte withholds her snort of amusement at the memories—at least one quarter of her tourists die from 'watch what I can do' alone. They look the type. Francis gives her a saucy wink while Gilbert cackles and she officially decides to steer clear of the mess. They'll end up in the Spin before the third level anyway.

"Nevertheless, don't you think it is about time we started this game?" She catches the small twitch above Ludwig's right eye.

"The game has started," Charlotte comments off-handedly. She brushes a hand down the front of her dress, looking idly over to where Kaunisut is watching the exchange with a neutral expression. His wares are now organized behind him. "Find the object with the power of Sekhmet and take it to the gate."

"That is very unhelpful," Yao responds almost immediately. His arms cross over his lithe chest and he looks at her critically. Charlotte resists the urge to smile, noting the way his attention was split between her and Kaunisut. "Why we find object? Where we find object? And where is gate you speak of?" Behind him, a couple of the tourists narrow their eyes. She notices vaguely that Alfred is making his way toward the window. "And why does pharaoh want to kill us?"

"The Guide is never as informative as she should be. Your trade caravan is in debt to the pharaoh—after quite the mess in Byblos. Does he need another reason? He is Re. He may persecute whomever he chooses." Kaunisut steps forward and Charlotte lets him take the lead, as he always does. She instead moves toward the window, to stand beside the young man who is looking out upon the white marble and sandstone city with wide eyes. "The Guide has told me many times that the visitors—you—are not warriors. However, I disagree. You are different. Perhaps you are of Sekhmet."

Charlotte turns, surprised by Kaunisut's off-script adlib. It isn't common for AIs to go so far off-script in a Safe Mode run. Her shoulders tense and she focuses her attention to the window again, breathing deep. No, David verified a Level One. No need for panic. Beside her, she felt the young man shift and her eyes glance his direction. "What's wrong?"

Alfred seems to ponder the question for a moment before shaking his head and sending her a quick grin. "Nothing! Just thinking about how pretty it is out there." He gestures toward the city. "Gotta hand it to Ancient Egypt. She sure knew how to build." He turns and settles himself on the sill, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Charlotte mimics the movement, watching as Kaunisut fulfilled his role as giver-of-the-exposition.

"So, where is this thing? The Sekhmet thing?" Gilbert pulled a curved sword from his side and gave a dramatic gesture. "We'll go conquer it and head to the next level, right?"

With the way he was waving that sword, definite FUBAR status. She could see it coming a mile away.

Kaunisut sends the Guide a long-suffering stare only to be met with her smile. "This is not a matter of conquering. It is a matter of searching and finding. Sekhmet is the goddess of war, the daughter of Ra, and one of power." When no one seems to catch his meaning, the dark-skinned man runs a hand over his face and sighs. "With the defeat of Libya by our leader, the festival of Sekhmet will begin in the evening. There will be an instrument played there, a sistrum which will play to the goddess to appease her war-ridden mind. If you take the sistrum to the gate and play it for the goddess, you will be able to escape the pharaoh and seek refuge in the lands of Sekhmet." Finishing his spiel, Kaunisut looks toward Charlotte and gives her a withering glare. "The short one is right, Guide. You are immensely unhelpful."

"You explained far better than I ever could," she responds with a grin. She pushes off the window sill and places her hands on her hips. The AI just shrugs and gives in, as per his usual. Overworked tradesman. "Alright. So you heard Kaunisut! There's a festival this evening—typical dancing girls and parties, cheers to you grinning bachelor number one—" Gilbert gives her a thumbs-up and she hears the usual chuckles from the audience. "—so we're biding our time until sunset, surviving by avoiding the Pharaoh's guards. We must make our way to the festival and find the sistrum of Sekhmet and play it at the doorway of her temple before midnight when the celebrations end."

"Uh, guys…"

"Until then, we are simply avoiding the capture?" Ivan questions, straightening his chest plate. "That seem too easy, if I am being honest."

"Ah! This sounds so fun! Are we going to drink wine?"

"Guys…"

"And see the sights," Charlotte nods. "Part of the entertainment isn't the adventure, it's seeing the sights. This is—for all intents and purposes—a world tour. This is just the first stop, with a little play alongside." She shifts and gestures toward the door. "I'll be walking through the city on the usual route, if you wish to remain with the group. I know the way to the next level and I know the patterns of the Ride. You can stay with me or you can go enterprising on your own. Of course, you can use all the functions of the Ride to contribute to the game play. It's your decis—"

"Uh, guys— Are you for real? Seriously, dudes c'mon!" Her attention (along with the attention of the entire tour group) swiveled to the young man standing at the window. His blue eyes were wide and uncertain while he gestured wildly toward the world outside. "That's not good, right?" Confused, Charlotte lightly walks over to stand at his side—the rest of the audience following suit. What she sees has her breath catching in her throat and her heart thundering in her ears. Alfred's slightly concerned voice seems to come with every beat. "That's so hella not good, right?"

Standing about ten meters from the house was a platoon of soldiers. She feels a chill creep up her spine at the warmth of the virtual bodies that surround her, bodies that would likely be piling up if she made one wrong move in the game play. Her hand reaches toward the red button on her arm and her teeth grit together as she presses down into her skin. She can hear the murmurings of the customers, their almost naive belief that the soldiers were just excellently done animation. She presses the red button again. She still hears their murmuring. She can still see the soldiers. Her panic grips her chest and thrashes about. The Emergency Stop is not working. There's no escape but through the Spin.

This shouldn't be possible! There are protocols in place for this sort of event.

As calmly as she can, because her heart is beating frighteningly fast and her breathing is hitched, she plasters on a believable (and always courteous) smile and steps back from the crowd. Her quivering hand brushes the light strands of hair from her eyes and she continues to grin. Always grin. Always smile. Keep the customers safe and happy, Charlotte. That's your job. Their attention is drawn to her and she can see it: their trust.

Just one more time, she tries to discreetly press the Emergency Stop.

It is in this instant, she knows that something has gone terribly, horribly, and irrevocably wrong.

Author's Section

Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the wonderful, wonderful feedback. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to continue this, but I think I will as I have the time and inspiration. The concept has me excited, but it takes a ton of research to even get the timeline correct, so I have to to quite a bit of research to even build my frame before proceeding. It might be months and months between updates, but I hope everyone will continue to support me as I write this. THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS, ALERTS, AND FAVORITES!

Please leave me some feedback and look forward to the next time when we leave exposition for action and character-building! I'm excited for the next stop on the Ride!