Overcharge

Beyond a shadow of a doubt the origin point of the data spike is in the middle of Paradise Hills Global Stadium. Stupid name really. Warren doesn’t consider as to why that is the where the source is coming from. That is until he breaks from the structure of the stadium itself and emerges onto the pitch itself. It’s used for everything, as all stadiums in the construct can be and are. However, that is irrelevant right now, but what isn’t as it there in the middle of the pitch is a figure. They move in a blur of motion, yet something about them is corrupted, pixelated and generally wrong. They look, even from this distance, like a monster. But it isn’t possible for a person to be behind this. No one has that level of access, at least no one that is still living anyway. The first, last and only person with that kind of access was Doctor Helena Tabar. Datastars don’t even come close to possessing the system rights to achieve such a thing.

“Welcome Warren!” A distorted version of a voice roars loudly.

Warren stops a quarter of the length of the pitch away to ask, “What are you? Why are you doing this?”

The figure turns to face him, as he does so the world adjusts. The pitch shrinks which in turn means the gap between them does too. Warren can feel the compression. It hits him hard but doesn’t take him off his feet. Anyone not a Datastar it might. A couple blinks dispel the discomfort allowing Warren to get an eyeful of the apparent culprit. He recognises the face of the thing before him as it hovers barely off the ground with a pixelated vapour tail in place of where their legs should be. The man is not someone Warren knows personally still he exclaims, “Bartholomew?”

The thing with Bartholomew’s face smiles, cackles a deep rumble and confirms, “Correct.”

“I don’t understand.”

Bartholomew laughs. Warren’s reply is what he was expecting.

“Are you a code error?” The cat eyed man queries not long after.

“I am not!” Bartholomew is insulted by such a suggestion. At one time he had been flesh and blood; the same as Warren, the other Datastars and all the other users who have ever entered the construct. That is no longer the case anymore.

“I am more.” Bartholomew’s voice rumbles while his mouth forms into a twin snarl. It’s impressive but grotesque.

“But you’re one of us.” Warren exclaims.

“I was, when I was a fool. But none of you saw this coming. I’ve been body dead for months.”

“You’re Overcharged.” At the mere mention of the word Bartholomew sucks in air angrily as if he is ready to roar and spit simultaneously and with vicious severity.

“Ren, the readings coming off him are… unquantifiable. He’s destabilising everything. I don’t know how he’s done it, because it should be impossible, but he’s ripping the simulation apart. You need to reason with him. Talk him down.” Dana explains.

Unfortunately, at Warren’s end her voice is mixed with static and largely garbled. He tries pushing harder on the earpiece but it has no effect. Bartholomew laughs again.

“Having communication issues?” A greedy smile stretches across his face far wider than should be possible. It’s disturbing, cartoonish but Warren refuses to give in while fear swirls around him.

“Why?” The Datastar finally queries of Bartholomew.

“It’s simple. I got sick of playing babysitter. I wanted power. I wanted control. So I lived in the system. I became part of the system. You never knew. I covered my tracks. For admins, you Datastars are rather oblivious; naïve to the possibilities that this network possesses.” Bartholomew raises his arms toward the sky. Neither of his arms could be considered normal. Both are spectral and grey-white in colour with no clearly defined lines. Still, the response to his actions from the construct around them is simple. It comes in the form of a storm and materialises out of nothingness overhead. Barely a blink of an eye later lightning fills the sky and mixes with the sound of thunder. However, there is no rain as yet.

“You’re mad. You overcharged yourself and body died. Now you think what, you’re some kind of God. No one controls the simulation. It controls itself. All we do, all you did, was maintain it. None of us have access.” Warren fires back aggressively. He’s reciting what he was told when he joined the programme.

“Then how am I remodelling this place Warren? Tell me?” Bartholomew’s voice is a happy roar and comes right before a jaw chattering chuckle of mammoth proportions.

Warren doesn’t have an answer. Bartholomew knows it too which is why he smiles so disgustingly.

Finally the cat eyed man speaks and asks, “Then why kill those in here with you? They’re users, civilians, they never did you harm.” He could point out that to the general populace Datastars are revered but he doesn’t need to. Bartholomew knows that, or at least he did before he was body dead. Months, Warren can scarcely believe it. Red flags should have alerted them but evidently didn’t. He wonders how Bartholomew managed that. There are so many questions unanswered. So many things even the Datastars are not aware of when it comes to the construct. Yet, without it humanity would inevitably resort to its old ways. War and violence might not be gone but the world has seen a marked improvement over what it had been prior to the construct.

The human race cannot afford to go back to how things were. If they did it would only lead to ruin. Maybe that is what Bartholomew is counting on. If he rules the construct, shapes it to his will, those not willing to partake, to bow down, will have to face the realities of the physical world. It’s insanity from back to front.

“Because I am a God and Gods must be feared. This domain shall be governed by my rules hence why I am reforming it. When all is done these worlds will reflect what I wish them too. Not clichéd stereotypes formed from narrow uninspired minds like is the case currently.”

“You’re not only a megalomaniac but a design critic.” Warren is disgusted by the madness and yet that is all that it is, madness. There is no sanity left in Bartholomew. It was lost during his long over indulgence in the simulation years before he became body dead.

“What about the other Datastars?” Warren has to know of their fates.

“I revoked them.” Bartholomew breaks into a cackle at the admittance of his actions.

Without realising it Bartholomew has told Warren how he might defeat what is being done here. There is no guarantee, and Warren wishes there was another way but from what he can see there is not. At least not in the time he has available to him.

I have to save as many as I can, he says to himself. With the glitch wall now at the stadium there might not be a way to save anyone trapped in the simulation if he doesn’t act soon. Whether the construct itself can and will be saved he cannot and does not know. The people are what matters most and there will still be two Datastars left, he reminds himself.

You might be wondering what Warren has realised. It’s quite simple really. He’s pieced together that by revoking the positions of the other Datastars, Bartholomew was able to erase them using the same glitch wall Warren has passed harmlessly through a number of times. Just as well it’s as close now as it is that it might serve his purposes instead of this overcharged’s.

“But you can’t be touched, can you?” Warren questions in hopes of delaying whatever fate Bartholomew might have for him. He can only imagine the madman intends to end Warren the exact same way as he did the other Datastars. At any other time Warren would be in mourning at the losses but now is not the time.

“I cannot. Only I can revoke my status.” A smirk is painted across his face and for the first time his voice doesn’t sound mad or commanding. Rather, he sounds like a man, a normal man, much like he would have sounded in the physical world before he became insane or body dead.

“And that’s how you’re going to end me to, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Bartholomew confirms.

“Then why let me get this close?” That is one thing Warren cannot comprehend the point of. Bartholomew might be, definitely is, insane but why would he leave himself open to the possibility of failure? Maybe he is so arrogant he doesn’t believe he can fail. He wouldn’t be the first megalomaniac to believe himself infallible.

“Because this way I could trace where your friends, Dana and Sanjiv are.” Warren’s face drops but following a short chuckle Bartholomew continues. “I didn’t know where you were located. Now I do. They’re the final would be thorns in my side. Not that they’ll be so for long.” Bartholomew smiles violently.

“You son of a…” Warren trails off deciding it is more important to warn his friends. “Dana, Sanjiv get…”

Bartholomew cuts Warren off. “They can’t hear you. Not anymore. Like you couldn’t hear them begging and pleading that you run. Now it’s too late. You’ll die and so will they. Then there will be no Datastars to get in my way.” Bartholomew’s expression turns dark and evil. A smile splits the monsters face. The expression is new to Warren. Still, it doesn’t change what he does next and that is to burst forward toward Bartholomew. The reaction is as the body dead former Datastar expected. Yet, they do not fight. Rather, Warren grabs a hold of Bartholomew and refuses to let go. The madman is confused but pays little mind to the desperation of his adversary while he winds up to deliver a bone crushing strike.

“I hereby revoke my access as a Datastar.” Warren blurts confidently and quickly while his orange cat shaped eyes are locked on Bartholomew’s silver sensory orbs.

The monster before him snarls, recoiling his head as he goes. Warren’s action makes no sense to Bartholomew. It will change nothing he thinks, until Warren’s face breaks into a smile. At the sight of it Bartholomew gets a nervous feeling and then cranes his neck to the side to find the glitch wall is upon them.

“NOOOOOOOO!” The madman roars and begins to flail but it’s too late. The glitch wall, having hastened its progress due to coding from Bartholomew, touches Warren’s heel. He winces and grimaces. The pain is unlike anything he’s felt previously. To be honest he can’t quantify it. There is no comparison believe there is possible to make. It is orders of magnitude above the discomfort he always felt entering the simulation, even the first time. Still, Bartholomew kicks and struggles in vain hope and desperation of getting free.

Warren lets out a scream and then turns. The action doesn’t really work because only part of him remains. Yet it is successful enough and due to this shift Bartholomew too feels the obliterating agony as he is consumed by the glitch wall. He also screams in reply.

Several seconds later both of them are gone. There is nothing left but with the root of the infection erased the system goes into a safety mode reset. That reset frees all those trapped in the virtual world that had not been touched by the glitch wall.

Dana and Sanjiv sink. Dana crumples painfully to her knees on the polished stone floor while Sanjiv holds his head in his hands. His elbows dig into the desks matte tinted glass top. Dana begins to weep. Contrary to what Bartholomew said they could hear everything Warren said. They begged, pleaded, hoped he wouldn’t do it but he did. He sacrificed himself to save the construct and most of the people who had been trapped within it. Some might be suffering the effects of overcharge but only time will tell how badly. Though they will be provided comprehensive therapy for whatever effects they might be suffering. They will also need to clarify that the construct is safe once again. Neither of them can think about any of that at the moment. The pain is too fresh, too raw. Not that they are given the time to feel is as suddenly there is a voice. It’s female, soft, and fills the air around them as it speaks. “Thank you for what you have done.”

Sanjiv upon hearing it thinks himself mad but raises his head nevertheless. Dana does the same a few seconds afterwards. They, instinctively, look at one another. Evidently neither of them is mad nor imagining the voice.

A sweet chuckle reverberates around them. They both look to the screens to find the code has shifted and fixed all the damage that had previously been done. It took seconds and now that it is done the female voice says, “All fixed.” After that the voice turns regretful and addresses Dana and Sanjiv directly once more. “I wish I could thank Warren for what he did but alas there are some things even I cannot fix. I’m sorry for your loss, truly.”

“Who are you?” Dana asks flabbergasted.

“Helena Tabar.”

“That’s not possible she died a long time ago in a car…” Sanjiv begins only to be cut-off by the voice claiming to be the constructs founder. “I know. I’m well aware of how I died. Or should I say how the organic me died.”

“What are you?” Are the next words out of Dana’s mouth. Her immediate thoughts are some kind of AI perhaps based off the late Doctor Tabar’s personality.

“I’m a copy of her brain. I run the system that governs the simulation. Sadly I could not root out the corruption of Bartholomew Trent myself. That is and was beyond my reach as the governess because overcharges exist outside of my purview.”

“Is that why Datastars exist?” Sanjiv asks confident the answer will be yes.

“It is not. You are a later addition. However, that is not to say I do not need your assistance. It has been a long time since I’ve been able to converse with others. Damage long since done to my access has been undone and so I wish to enter into an arrangement with you Dana Marcello and Sanjiv Khatri. As you know the construct, as you call it, serves as a fundamental part of human civilization. Any separation of it from you would prove fatal for your species in the long run. As a result I must ask…”

“You want us to pretend none of this ever happened, don’t you?” Sanjiv interjects. He feels sickened by the idea and is fully prepared to go off on a rant.

“I do not. The world has to know if it is to continue. Instead, I ask that we form a coalition to better the simulation and to avoid any similar future travesties. What say you to this?”

Dana looks to Sanjiv who returns her stare with an equally stunned expression. Ultimately he shrugs which leads Dana to confirm, “Where do we start?”