2 years later:
So much time had passed. The days in Battle-school had stacked into weeks, and the weeks stacked into months, which stacked into two whole years. I had turned eight-years-old, then I turned nine-years-old.
The nightmares with McFarland lessened, but the nightmares with "me" intensified, as if my torment needed to be always consistent and unrelenting. I came back from a tiring training session, and I rested my head against my soft pillow. When I did, I fell asleep instantly.
***
"I didn't call you here to waste time. How in hell did the computer do that?"
(Where am I?)
I couldn't see anything. I could only hear, as if my power of omniscience was halved. Perhaps I was too fatigued. Perhaps my power lessened because I didn't use it for years. I heard the next person's response.
"I don't know."
"What is all this Fairyland crap? Who was that boy in the simulation? He looked too real to be some NPC. You would need to have an actual photo of a real person to achieve that level of realism. Where did that audio come from? Why would this boy call Ender a monster?"
"Colonel Graff, I wasn't there when it was programmed. All I know is that the computer's never taken anyone to this place before. Fairyland was strange enough, but this isn't Fairyland anymore. It's beyond the End of World, and-"
"I know the names of the places, I just don't know what they mean."
"Fairyland was programmed in. It's mentioned in a few other places. But nothing talks about the End of the World. We don't have any experience with it."
"I don't like having the computer screw around with Ender's mind that way. Who is that boy? Why is he there? What does it mean?"
"The mind game is designed to help shape them, help them find worlds they can be comfortable in."
"You don't get it, do you, Major Imbu? I don't want Ender being comfortable with the end of the world. Our business here is not to be comfortable with the end of the world!"
"The End of the World in the game isn't necessarily the end of humanity in the Formic wars. It has a private meaning to Ender."
"Good. What meaning?"
"I don't know, sir. I'm not the kid. Ask him."
"Major Imbu, I'm asking YOU."
"There could be a thousand meanings."
"Try one."
"You've been isolating the boy. Maybe he's wishing for the end of THIS world, the Battle School. Or maybe it's about the end of the world he grew up with as a little boy, his home, coming here. Or maybe it's his way of coping with having broken up so many kids so here. Ender's a sensitive kid, you know, and he's done some pretty bad things to people's bodies, he might be wishing for the end of THAT world. Perhaps that's why the Mind Game called Ender a monster. It's how he views himself."
"Or none of the above," Graff said.
"The Mind Game is a relationship between the child and the computer. Together they create stories. The stories are true, in the sense that they reflect the reality of the child's life. That's all I know," Major Imbu explained.
When he said that, my ears perked at what he said. What did it mean that an incarnation of myself was telling me that I was a monster? Was that the story I was given?
(It's true though.)
The path I treaded to get to this point was a path covered in blood. The coins I amassed came from the dead corpses of others, whom I killed. The strength I possessed was due to my attribute, Anger Lord, which was probably given to me because of my intense hate for this world. The monstrous way I acted garnered the attention of the Constellations, who gave me coins. I was only alive because I was a monster in the first place.
I also considered my plans for future scenarios. If I went on that path, I would become more of a menace than I already was. I would destroy worlds, and they would try to drag me down with them in a sea of blood.
(That's a path I'm willing to face.)
I returned to listening to the conversation.
"I'll tell you what I know, Major Imbu. That picture of that boy could not come from our files at this school. That phrase "You're a monster" also had to come from somewhere. Because I was so curious, I put the image of that boy's mug into facial recognition software and cross-referenced with official databases, public AND private. I did the same for his voice too. After weeks of digging, I've come to one conclusion: that boy does not exist. In any database, at least."
"Perhaps it's just an NPC. Perhaps the Mind Game has a software that can blend and create faces. The audio could've come from a movie, or perhaps it was synthesized by the computer. Sir, I personally believe that it's not important."
"But didn't you say that it's a story between the child and the game? It is important, or else it wouldn't have shown up. What does this boy mean to Ender?"
"It could be an imaginary friend, or some type of monster he was told when he was younger. Perhaps it's a story that Peter told to Ender to frighten him. Like I said, there could be a plethora of interpretations."
"What type of imaginary friend calls you a monster? Anyways, the only way the computer here in Battle School could have gotten the picture was by requisitioning it from a landside computer. And not even one connected to the I.F. That takes requisitionary powers. We can't just go into any database and pluck a picture from any computer."
"If we want a picture, we have to get a requisition, but if the Mind Game program determines that the picture is necessary-"
"It can just go take it."
"Not just every day. Only when it's for the child's own good."
"Okay, but why? What good does it do for Ender? I can tell it affected him. He doesn't play the Mind Game anymore - he hasn't done it in years. Why would Ender need to be called a monster?"
"Honestly, sir, I don't know. The Mind Game program is designed so that it can't tell us. It may not know itself, actually. This is uncharted territory."
"You mean the computer's making this up as it goes along?"
"You might put it that way."
"Well, that does make me feel better. I thought I was the only one."
Soon, their conversation faded away. I felt their voices drift, as if I was drowning in ocean water, gradually falling away. Soon, I began to hear other voices instead, which sounded crystal clear.
"I've been deciding whether to kill you or what."
I heard the voice. I was only with this person for a few days, but I instantly recognized this voice. This person left quite the impression on me the first time we met. It was Peter Wiggin, Ender Wiggin's brother. Technically, my sibling.
"I love you too, Peter," someone said sarcastically.
This voice... this voice was feminine. I heard it in my flashbacks, and I felt a deep sense of nostalgia.
(It's a lie. It's not real. A false memory. This dopamine secretion I'm feeling... it's just the activation of the inferior frontal gyrus, substantia nigra, cerebellum and insla....)
I was trying to ignore how I felt, but it was hard. It felt as if I spent my life with Valentine, as if I had a past with her. But I never had a sister. I still don't. I'm still alone in this world. I began to hear Peter's voice.
"It would be so easy. You always make these stupid little fires. It's just a matter of knocking you out and burning you up. You're such a firebug."
"I've been thinking of castrating you in your sleep."
"No, you haven't. You only think of things like that when I'm with you. I bring out the best in you. No, Valentine, I've decided not to kill you. I've decided that you're going to help me."
"I am?"
"Valentine, things are coming to a head. I've been tracking troop movements in Russia."
"What are we talking about?"
"The world, Val. You know Russia? Big Empire? The Second Warsaw Pact? Rulers of Eurasia from the Netherlands to Pakistan?"
"They don't publish their troop movements, Peter."
"Of course not, but they do publish their passenger and freight train schedules. I've had my desk analyzing those schedules. I've had my desk analyzing those schedules and figuring out when the secret troop trains are moving over the same tracks. Done it backward over the past three years. The last six months, they've stepped up, they're getting ready for war. Land war."
(I know which part of the chapter I'm in.)
This was chapter nine. This chapter was aptly titled "Locke and Demosthenes." It was the ninth chapter out of fifteen.
(God, thank god it's almost coming to an end....)
My time in here was long. I was an adult mind in the body of child, so I kept track of time much more thoroughly. I felt the depth of time I lost, and the indentity of Ethan Nakamura became much more distant. The flashbacks didn't help, nor did my befriending of some boys. It only immersed me in this environment.
***
I decided to make a diary. Over time, I felt my initial drive to survive lessen. I've become too comfortable in battle school. Too lax.
The horror I experienced in the scenarios felt distant, but the dreams of blood and death still haunted me. I would see my victims' faces, as they were about to kill me. It was ironic. In the world before this one, I was given power and strength, but the world in my head... I was still a weak boy. My murderers would finally achieve their revenge, and I would finally receive my sweet deserts.
That's how the dreams always went. The blessing of Hypnos no longer guarded me, and my dreams became much more frightening as time went on. The real McFarland was no longer there, but it felt relieving when he actually was. It meant that there was at least some tether I had to the real world, but that was gone now. The McFarland I saw was a result of my imagination. I would only see him in blips, and I could only see him in the corner of my eye, as if he was a ghost.
It was truthfully more horrifying. It was my own subconscious torturing me. It meant that McFarland could get closer to me because he was stronger in real life. He was faster. It only made sense that my mind would try to replicate his likeness. Once... that McFarland caught up to me, and I tried to fight him, but he wrapped his thick, calloused hands around my puny neck, and strangled me. I didn't die. Instead, I woke up feeling suffocated. When I touched my neck, I felt a phantom pain, as if someone had choked me. It was similar to a dream I had when I was younger, before the apocalypse. I dreamt that a zombie bit my left thigh. When I woke up from that dream, I felt my real thigh actually hurting.
The dream with my evil clone had also lessened. Although, I had a feeling it would come back to haunt me if I played the game again. The program knew too much about me. How I really felt. Instead, I just focused on the Battle-room, and the games. I learned how to snipe someone with a rifle, how to make a bomb with only a few ingredients, and how to knock someone out with my bare hands. The body I possessed also became stronger.
Still, it was strange. The first time I looked into a mirror, I saw Asa Butterfields face. As I lived my life in his body, I began to think of it as mine. I was a young, Caucasian male with white skin, but the scary thing was this: I began to think of myself as a young, white male. I felt a part of identity fade away.
So, that's why I made a diary. To keep my identity. I made a private app for my tablet; not even the Battle School employees could hack into it. I wrote a passage about my feelings, and other worthless garbage along those lines. I had a year's worth of writing to reference and look back on. If I had to measure time with the events on the novel, then around a year had passed since the conversation between Colonel Graff and Major Imbu.
(Hopefully, the next plot point comes soon.)
Anyways, I mainly wrote about scenarios. I thought about the Demon World, and how you could gain a Giant Story from there. I thought about the numerous terrorist groups in Star Stream, and which ones I should ally with in the upcoming Nebulae wars I wanted to wage.
I remembered people's coordinates, their descriptions and how to persuade them. I wrote down a list of names.
-Wenny King
He would be useful. His hatred for the Dokkaebi would allow to take advantage of his feelings, and I could bargain with him for "that method."
-Honan Vess
He was a powerful alien in the far reaches beyond Star Stream. He was a Constellation, but he wasn't concerned with scenarios, and he wasn't obsessed with the Star Stream like so many others. He viewed it as an overhyped nuisance, and was tired of the Constellations' obsession with it. He was similar to a spiritual master, and was quite grounded. He only used Star Stream to catch up on worthwhile news and recent events.
(He has a very important ability I need to learn.)
I leaned farther into my bed, and flicked through my other profiles of people.
-Crimson Dawn
This was a gang that worked in a solar system that was quite expansive, and filled with life. The solar system had three goldilocks planets, each filled with sentient beings.
(Worlds filled with army recruits.)
I would take over that gang, and turn it into the focal point of my military. I would establish a strong presence in that system, and negotiate with the planet's leaders.
(Let's see, if I'm right, this system is closer to the center of the galaxy, around the inner sphere.)
It would be quite a galactic trek to get there, unless I had a portal opened.
I poured over my other records, and my memories. I missed my smartphone. That had my real diary in it.
(When I used to write about things like Sword Art Online and stuff.)
I felt more emotional when I was younger, but overtime, I felt the depths of those emotions fade. It was the price I had to pay for growing up. I decided to go to sleep. I was tired of awake. I wished to have peaceful slumber.
***
I felt more tired day by day. The loneliness I felt in childhood was repeating again. I was isolated all over. I felt it, like a stab in my heart. I would see how my Launchies would act with each other, and how they acted around me. They had easy going smiles, but with me - silence. They jested, and they had inside jokes. They talked about trivial matters, like the new flavor of space ice cream, how we are about to get an import of fruit from Earth - shenanigans like that.
When they were around me? Stiffness. Discipline. Silence. Only speaking when called upon. They didn't view me as one of them. They viewed me as an adult, as a teacher. I had their respect. I was just like Graff. I could say anything rude to them, and my words would have agency. I could hurt them with just a few sentences. That was the power I had, the power they willingly gave by deferring to me.
I wouldn't partake in such crass, hurtful behavior, though. It's just surprising that people would actually care about what I say.
[Hey. Eth an.]
(Hello, darkness my old friend.)
[It's me.]
Was that actually Fragment of the 4th Wall? Fraggy?
(Where the hell were you?) I thought angrily.
[T he si mu lation's fi re wall ki cked me out. I ha d to ha ck back in an d ge t thr ough the pro tec tions. Ti me Dila tion is on e of th em.]
I felt angry. I thought Fraggy was lying to me. Perhaps he was. They could've been. I didn't know what the Fragment of the 4th Wall was.
[Y ou forgor.]
(Forgot what?)
[H ow to pro ceed wi th the pl ot. Yo u nee d to pl ay the Mind Game.]
(I don't want to.)
[Yo u will be tr app ed th en.]
These words were said in a young, adorable voice, but the meaning behind were too sinister. Trapped. Trapped in "Ender's Game," where I was nothing but a puppet in the I.F.
(Fuck. Fine then.)
[I'll be wi th you.]
I grabbed my desk, and played while lying in bed. It felt reminiscent of my younger days, when I would just lie around and browse the internet.
This wasn't some casual playthrough, though. This was the Mind Game.
[Time Dilation has deactivated!]
[Constellations have entered the channel!]
[Constellation "General-Slayer" is looking at your scenario!]
[Constellation "Defender of Virginia" is looking at your scenario!]
I booted the Mind Game. It loaded.
(Let's get to this bloody End of the World.)
***
I spawned near the Giant again.
(God-fucking damnit, I have to walk to the wall again.)
I was exhausted mentally. I looked at the Giant's corpse for a second, and was about to walk away, until I noticed something.
(Dwarves?)
It seemed that they converted the Giant's body into a hillside home. They cut into the rib cage, and use them as apartments. I saw the skull was turned into some worship; plumes of smoke rose from the two eye-sockets of the skull.
(I wonder what they're making.)
I explored more of this village, and saw that they even had a pub. They even had interspecies trade with humans.
(I wonder if I could buy anything here.)
I then thought of all of those riches underground before I entered the subterranean world.
(I could use them for trade! Damn, what didn't I think of that earlier.)
I quickly hurried to the well. I did the monkey bar trick, and dived down into the Underworld. I grabbed as many jewels as I could. I didn't know anything about stones, crystals, so I grabbed anything that looked valuable. I stuffed them into the pockets of my I.F. uniform - for some reason, I still had it in this game-world. I quickly climbed up the rope of the well, and went back to the dwarven village.
(Time to trade.)
***
The dwarves had their own language, but subtitles appeared whenever they spoke.
(Thank god.)
It was convenient. I was in a little market area, which was in the front of the of the workshop. I could see far into the skull, and I saw foundries, crucibles, and anvils. All of them were being used by the dwarves: I saw them hammer hot pieces of metal, as if they were bending candy.
I wanted to speak to the dwarves, but I didn't know if that was an option. I opened the Mind Game settings, and found out that you have to speak into the built-in microphone to actually talk to NPCs in this game.
(Sounds like a great way to sample my voice and use it illegally. I should do this in the game room.)
I moved. I felt like talking into the speaker now.
"Hello? I would like to buy something."
I heard my voice transmit into the game, as if it was echoing it back to me.
[Hm? What would you like to buy?]
I read the subtitles.
(So, you can trade with me.)
"I want to buy the best sword you have, and the best armor."
[Hm? Can you pay for it?] The dwarf said in their gruff voice.
"Indeed, I can."
I then slapped uncut diamonds onto the table. The second I did, the dwarves eyes lit up. It was only a second though. He was back to his cool, calm and collected businessman persona.
[Let me take one of these and I'll have our professional jeweler take a look.]
If I cared one bit, I would've said no, and probably think this guy was trying to commit daylight robbery. He could make some weak excuse, such as "Oh, this isn't real diamond! You're trying to swindle us! Never let me see your face again! Get out!!"
In reality, that chunk of diamond was probably worth more than the dwarf's salary. Still, I didn't practically care. If the dwarfs were unwilling to sell anything to me, I would just pillage their entire village and wipe them out.
"Take it then," I said.
The dwarf took one of the jewels. I only had to wait a few minutes for him to come back. He also had a friend with him as well. Presumably the jeweler.
[If you have a few more of these, you can buy our best wares, and then some.]
"I do. Plenty more."
I scattered gold nuggets onto the table. The two dwarves seemed shocked by the sheer amount of wealth I had.
(Perhaps I'm overplaying it. These guys may try to rob me.)
[Hm, you'll be the perfect customer then,] one of the dwarves said. [Well... we have a lot of good swords, but what are you looking for specifically?]
(What am I looking for?)
The evil version of me in the cave had a lightsaber. In the Star Wars universe, a lightsaber was one of the most overpowered weapons to possess. The only way to counter a lightsaber was to have one yourself.
(Although, there the bones of creatures that can resist a lightsaber. Even some metals. Mainly, a lightsaber is a heat-based weapon.)
I returned to the conversation.
"I need a sword that can resist high temperatures. It needs a strong internal structure to withstand heat."
The dwarves looked at each other, and seemed to convey an entire conversation without any words.
[That's quite specific. Are you trying to challenge... them?]
"Them?"
(Not the goddamn pronoun game. Just get to the point,) I thought.
[There has been many people who've been asking for swords with similar requirements. They seek to challenge the red-blade wielder.]
(Are they talking about me?)
"Who is this "red-blade wielder?" What does he look like?" I asked.
[Heh, I thought you were one of the many people trying to fight him! Haven't you heard the legends? Well, no one knows exactly, but we do know this: he has a black scar on his face. He has flaming eyes, and he wields a red blade that can cut through any sword and armor.]
(Shit. So I'm a final boss in the Mind Game.)
[Although... not hope is lost. Our chieftain has a very special project... with these funds-]
[Speak no further!!]
It was the jeweler. Why was he interrupting our conversation?
[I'm sorry, but we cannot accept your patronage,] the jeweler dwarf said. [Please, do not seek the man with the red blade. With your money, you can have any home you want in this village, and live in luxury.]
"I don't care about that. I need to fight the Red-Blader."
[Why? Multiple people have failed. Are you one of the survivors of the decimated villages?]
"Survivors? What survivors?"
[Bloody hell, you are daft, or you've been living under a rock. The Red-Blader has attacked multiple villages, and slaughtered countless innocents. When people tried to pursue him, he vanished. People want to write it off as an urban legend, but the evidence is real. The dozens of bodies he left behind are proof of it.]
(Great, my counterpart is a warlord here,) I thought snidely.
[Anyone who has pursued him has died, never to return. Fairyland is no ordinary place - it's dangerous. All of those "heroes" probably died from something else before they could even meet the Red-Blader.]
"Still, I need to try. I have a lead on him. I can find him."
[You know where he is?] The jeweler asked.
"An approximate location."
[Bah.]
"Whatever, I need your best weapon! I'm willing to pay!"
The first dwarf I met interceded, and spoke.
[As I was saying... we can help with your venture. How about this: do you wish to meet the chieftain of the forging branch?]
"Yes."
The other dwarf was aghast, but didn't speak out.
[Well, don't worry.]
The dwarf took all of the riches on the table.
[You've earned yourself VIP access. Let's go.]