Freedom TM

direction. Luminescent material coated the walls of the cave, casting a soft glow into the air. A glittering city spread out along the floor of the cavern beneath her, with a river bisecting it. Several waterfalls descended from the ceiling like veils. Most of them disappeared into a cloud of mist above forest-land at the edge of the city; others cascaded down the sides of the cave itself. The sound of the water was a pleasant white noise. As she looked across to the far side of the huge cavern, she could see villas set into the wall like balconies. She could also hear music and laughter in the distance, with other player-character avatars moving around, call-outs floating over their heads.
    It was beautiful. She spent several moments just staring at it.
    Then she heard someone speak in her headset.
“I beg your pardon, my lady.”
    Philips turned her avatar to face what looked to be a non-player-character—or NPC—a servant of some type in house livery. Sheknew it was a bot, a simple AI program that could respond in limited ways, or be scripted to perform actions. She could tell because it bore no call-out above its head.
    The avatar bowed before her and swept his plumed hat off his head.
“My lady, Master Rakh will be very glad when he hears that you’ve arrived safely. May I ask you to remain here while I fetch him?”
    Philips knew what to do. She could either right-click on the servant and select from a list of options to respond—or … She decided to speak directly into the headset mic. “Yes.” She knew Sobol’s speech recognition was pretty good.
    The NPC nodded and smiled.
“Excellent, my lady. I don’t think the master will be long.”
With that he marched off in a hurry, placing his hat back on his head.
    That left Philips some time to explore the terrace. It appeared to be the garden of a several-story villa built into the rock face. Fountains, statues, and ornamental plants filled the area. She had to admit that the 3-D renderings were well done. Sobol’s game engine was popular for a reason.
    Philips walked over to a fountain that depicted something like Poseidon riding a chariot drawn by sea horses. She looked down into what she knew was particle simulation water and saw her own reflection staring back at her. Her avatar was fashioned to look like her real self. She was looking at her own image.
    In the real-world office, Philips smiled. Her character wore a beautiful dress that appeared to be silk with a brocade wrap. There was also a glittering jeweled necklace—not the type of thing she would ever wear in real life, but she figured no indigenous people could be brutalized in the diamond trade here in fantasyland.
    “I hope you don’t mind the outfit. I didn’t know what to get you.”
    Philips looked up to see the avatar of Ross that was depicted on the postcard ad. He wore leather armor and a sword at his side—the prosperous rogue. She smiled in the real world, happy to see him, even if it was just a 3-D model.
    “Mr. Ross.”
    They approached each other and stood at arm’s length.
    “I’ve been so worried for you, Nat.”
    “I’m fine, Jon.” She turned to face the vast cave beyond the terrace railing. “What is this place?”
    “Do you like it?”
    “It’s beautiful.”
    “It lies beneath the kingdom of Avelar. It’s called the Cave of Forgotten Kings. Built from what remained of a sunken city. Phosphorescent moss made this cave livable after thousands of years of glacial erosion.”
    “Wow.”
    “What do you mean, ‘wow’? What I just said was complete rubbish. This is a bunch of bitmap textures wrapped around a 3-D model.”
    “Oh, don’t ruin it.”
    He laughed.
“It is pretty amazing how the brain just kind of plays along. We’re quite willing to delude ourselves.”
    “I got your card. What better way to reach a steganographer?”
    “I’m glad you liked it.”
    “Just one thing.”
    “What?”
    “It could have been sent by anyone.”
    “Ah … so then—”
    “Prove to me you’re
you
. Show me that you remember what you last said to me.”
    Ross’s avatar moved close to her—right up to her face.
“I told you that every day my first and last thought is of you.”
    In the real world, Philips felt almost overcome with emotion. He’d spoken those words to her amid the destruction of Building Twenty-Nine. She’d lain blind on a jetty as fireboats approached. No one else could have known those words. There were times, in fact, when she thought