Brother Keepers Read online

  Chapter 5 - Sharing the Game

  "You have already inspected this corridor, Ernie. You are exploring the same section of this map over and over again."

  "I know, Oliver. I'm hoping the gear I need will be held in the chest at the end of this hall the next time I loot it."

  "I've calculated that the odds of anything appearing in that chest are random and rare. There is no promise that you'll find what you want no matter how many times you revisit this section of the map."

  "But this is the only way I can ever find the Moon Pendant of Lehmur."

  "And why is that item so important?"

  "Because I want to give it to the priestess."

  Oliver refuses to leave me alone since I shared my frustrations and fear with the robot. Oliver will only leave my side to answer Dr. Zito's request that the robot deliver him an aspirin after the doctor partakes of two or three too many bourbons or scotches the previous night. Oliver locks me within my room whenever he is forced to leave my company. Even my windows are now nailed shut. Regardless if it's been Oliver or Dr. Zito's idea for such precautions, it's clear that the mansion has become an even more formidable prison. Oliver gives me no privacy, even looking over my shoulder when I throw myself into my online game. He gives me increasing advice concerning the conduct of my adventures, and I've learned that nothing ruins a video game's enjoyment like a robot who constantly reminds you that all of the glowing splendors on the monitor break down to simple zeroes and ones.

  "I don't understand why this priestess cannot find the pendant for herself, Ernie. Her character is far less encumbered by armor as is your warrior class. She is much lighter on her feet. The game's mathematics give her a far greater chance of progressing down that corridor to that waiting chest without tripping any of the traps."

  "But I'm better at this game than she is. Trust me, I'll reach that treasure chest."

  "Skill has very little to do with, Ernie."

  A short sigh helps me brush off any anger I feel at such a claim. Oliver is a robot. Dr. Zito filled him with abilities and knowledge on the first day he pieced Oliver together. Oliver knew how to conduct any surgical procedure the moment power first rushed through his microchips. I didn't receive such a blessing from my creator. As I clone, I probably entered the world drooling all over myself. I have no memories of my first days, because unlike Oliver, I had to fill my empty skull. I didn't instantly know how to read, or how to operate my computer. Oliver likely has little appreciation for all of the little things I've needed to learn and master before attempting to guide my warrior down that corridor brimming with traps to reach that particular treasure chest. Oliver likely doesn't appreciate my abilities at all.

  I successfully move my warrior half way down the corridor before I trip the flames that roar out of the walls and singe my character's armor. My warrior staggers from the hurt, but my fingers flash across the keyboard, feeding my warrior with medicine before he crumbles onto the paving stones.

  "The traps generate according to a mathematical pattern, Ernie. I could guide your warrior down the corridor to that chest if you would like me to."

  "I've done it many times."

  Oliver's telescoping eye whirls at the screen. "I calculate we could open the chest many more times during our session if you let me assist."

  "You could help me by leaving me alone."

  "I'm only trying to help."

  Frustrated, I push my warrior forward too quickly, failing to give my character's health enough time to rebound from the flame trap. I rush across another trigger, and darts fire from the walls. Several hit my warrior, and their poison quickly drains what little life remains in my warrior before I can administer an antidote. My warrior falls to the floor and his ghost raises from his corpse, waiting for me to guide the shade back to the resurrection totem planted outside of the dungeon's gates, a task that will take several more minutes before I can backtrack to my previous progress.

  "Are you sure you don't want me to try?"

  Oliver has less of a chance of understanding my motivation to acquire that pendant than he has to realizing how much time and practice I've invested into the game to simply reach that trap-filled corridor. The Moon Pendant of Lehmur is one of the game's rarest items. It's a necklace charged with statistic modifiers that would turn the most mediocre of gamers into a formidable adventurer. The Moon Pendant of Lehmur is also beautiful for the way it sparkles upon the wearer. I've rarely seen another priestess sporting such a magical item upon her décolletage. A player can't help but notice how that pendant enhances any priestess' pixelated figure, reason enough beyond statistical modifiers for most players to seek out the chest waiting at the end of the corridor that once more faces my warrior.

  But there's a purpose greater than ability boosts and curve enhancements calling me time and again to that dangerous dungeon. The priestess has joined me during many new adventures following the procedure that harvested my right eye. She has joined me to cross the Boneshard Channel, to save the Temple of Ohm from the cult of the Bloodflame zealots. She has worked through the long quest string required to forge an alliance with the quiet and brooding shadow elves of the Wyllen Forest. Yet that priestess has not sent me any new letter since that missive that binged into my mailbox the morning when Dr. Zito's antique rifle exploded in his face. She has not responded to any of my apologies for missing our rendezvous. She has responded to none of my suggestions as to how we might again attempt to meet. The company of that priestess as I trek across that wide, digital world is no longer enough for me. There's something missing. I want to see the face that truly guides that priestess. I want to know if that face might live up to all the expectations my imagination has assigned to it. I want to learn if I've been enchanted by pixels or by flesh.

  "I've got an idea, Oliver." I swallow a portion of my pride. "I'll guide the character again. I'll work the mouse. But I will listen as you tell me where to step, and we'll move slowly to get it right. Deal?"

  "Of course, Ernie. If that's what you would like."

 

  Oliver's guidance makes navigating the corridor very easy. He reminds me whenever I forget about a peril. He tells me when it is safest for me to step out of the torchlight, when it is best for me to employ shadow in my progress. Oliver alerts me when removing a piece of my armor will boost my chances of success, warns me when I tarry in a position that grows more dangerous each second I stand still. We pass each trap, and finally, just as Oliver claimed, I sense there truly is a method to reaching that treasure chest.

  The chest pierces the crowding shadows with beams of silver light as my warrior opens it. The Moon Pendant of Lehmur rests inside. The pendant's jewels chime a melody as my character lifts it from that chest, and a halo of golden light circles my warrior's helm. I know that none of those traps will harm my character as long as that pendant remains in my inventory.

  "Well done, Ernie. I calculate the odds of the game granting you that pendant to have been roughly one in two-thousand."

  I smile. "We would've braved that corridor two-thousand times to find that pendant."

  Oliver's gears buzz. "Odds do not work that way, Ernie."

  "I know." I wink. "Only saying it was fun."

  "I'm glad to help you be happy."

  I pause outside of the dungeon and package the pendant into a letter I compose for the priestess. I ask for another opportunity to meet with her, explaining the reason for my previous absence during our previously planned rendezvous. I tell her that I hope the pendant will serve as a token of my promise not to miss any future meeting. Oliver looks over my shoulder as I type. He points out each of my misspellings, warns me when my words sound clumsy. But the robot doesn't voice any objection or show any concern to any of the my letter's content. I wonder if Oliver might inform Dr. Zito of my missive. I wonder if Oliver's programming includes surveillance skills. There's no way for me to know. Yet I compose that letter all the same. Facing so many uncertainties, I decide to do what I judge to
be brave.

  Doing something courageous seems like the best way for a warrior to attract any priestess' attention.

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