Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle) Page 7

  Stiffly, Kiri walked over to the long desk, noted that the edge wasn’t squared off, but rounded, lovely. Scanning the gloves—twelve pairs in various sizes and colors—she went with impulse and chose a pair of pretty pale green ones that looked to be her size. She pulled them on—they felt like the finest chamois, and again her hands tingled. The metallic silver embroidery glittered, nearly seemed to spark. Wow. She chose a visor she thought would fit, but didn’t put it on. And she sat in the chair, turned on the monitor.

  A rainbow-colored word appeared in flowing pastel script. Transformation! Frowning, tugging on the wrists of her gloves, she looked over at Lathyr and Jenni, who watched her.

  “Yes?” asked Jenni. Kiri thought the woman hid a smile. Maybe that should relieve her, but it didn’t much.

  “I’ve heard there are some biofeedback games out there,” Kiri said. She flexed her fingers; the gloves clung, almost massaged her hands. Felt good, but she’d definitely miss a keyboard. Obviously, she wasn’t as flexible as she’d thought. Not a good thing to consider when she was on the job interview of her life. Not when she wanted to be on the cutting edge of the gaming world.

  “Yes,” Jenni said. “I’ve heard of those games, too, even tried them. But, I promise you, the gloves are not recording any information. They are for virtual reality purposes only.”

  “I don’t see the connectivity to the computer system.”

  “Optical,” Jenni said promptly.

  Lathyr walked toward her and put his gloves on again—they weren’t the same texture, more like thin silk. Jenni’s were velvet. He said, “I assure you, Ms. Palger, that you are a prime candidate for this job.”

  All the repetition brought relief. “I do want the job.”

  Jenni’s brows rose. “Let’s go then.” She waved and the other monitors blinked on, along with the cheerful cheep of keyboards, game pads and mice coming online.

  Kiri stared. “Wow, your gloves really work.”

  “Like magic.” Jenni laughed. “Ready?”

  Kiri put her visor on, nothing odd happened. What had she expected, tentacles slipping into her brain? No, don’t think that.

  “Is everything...okay?” asked Lathyr.

  “Fine,” Kiri said, though she felt a little stupid with the gloves and visor on. She didn’t think most casual gamers would want to wear the accessories unless the immersive factor was really amazing. But she sure wouldn’t say that yet. Not when she was at the starting post, ready to surge forward and hit the game running.

  No. That might not work with this game. Not all were fast; some that mimicked real life were deadly slow in her opinion. An alternative to real life, just trying to make it better with a choice of mate and children...no, that reminded her of Shannon, and Kiri’s thoughts were too scattered!

  She had to focus, to be primed.

  “Ready?” Lathyr asked.

  “Ready.”

  Light engulfed her vision. Transformation! Brought to you by Eight Corp! The words vanished in an explosion of yellow and Kiri dropped into the game.

  She stood atop a low hill, breathing in summer air and looking down on a carpet of many-colored wildflowers. She could almost believe wind lifted her hair from her neck. She touched her hair, held it before her face. Looked exactly like her own hair. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and her hands appeared to be her own, too, with the glittery tint she’d put on her nails.

  She was there. No visor narrowed her vision.

  “Wow.” She reached out for the water bottle on the counter beside her in real life. Nothing happened but her arm slicing thin air. “Wow,” she repeated. “This really is full immersion.”

  “This is the opening sequence,” Lathyr said. He stood beside her, dressed as he had been in real life—European-cut suit, pale blue shirt, no tie.

  He swept an arm around in an expansive gesture, and turned in place. Kiri did, too.

  “As you can see, there are four realms in Transformation.” His smile crinkled his eyes and Kiri thought it was the first carefree one she’d seen from him. Was he easier in a game setup, too? “Since many things in the game are complex, such as the virtual reality...hardware...” Now he waved a hand and Kiri thought she saw the outline of a sparkling glove. “We are keeping the magic portion of the game fairly simple. Each realm corresponds to an ancient element—water, air, earth, fire.”

  “Ah.” From the hill, the realms were vivid quarters of a round pie and looked different and colorful. Excitement and just plain fun began to seep into her—why had she balked, this looked so kewl? She flexed her fingers and tiny sparkles rose from her hands in spirals. Oh, yes, cool! She did a little rock in place, a little butt shimmy, and tried another wave. Her mouth dropped open as small butterflies rose from her fingertips. Her laugh got stuck in her throat and came out a low chuckle. “I love these gloves!”

  “Good to hear,” Jenni’s smug voice came, vibrating through the band of Kiri’s visor over her ears.

  “Examine the realms,” Lathyr said. “This is the only time you will be on this hill and have this panoramic view. Your time here—our time here—is limited.”

  That thunked Kiri’s heels back down to the ground. Had she actually been dancing? Yeah. And this wasn’t just a new game to love and hate and be exasperated with and prize and master. This was a realm she’d help create and refine. Write for the enjoyment and entertainment of others. This was the job, the career she wanted.

  The realms showed bright colors of cartoonish intensity—one was mostly green. Green, green hills, an equally verdant ridge with a wooden door in it. Towering mountains looking a lot like the front range of the Colorado Rockies rose behind the lush hills. “Earth Realm,” Kiri gestured and more butterflies streamed from her fingers down the hill toward the Earth Realm.

  “Each realm has a major race and a minor race—the Earth Realm has dwarves and brownies.” A note in Lathyr’s voice had her turning her head and she caught him eyeing her—her figure? her stature?—before a bland expression covered his face.

  Green and brown earth was in front of her on the left when she’d arrived. To her right appeared a blue-and-green realm with a spring becoming stream, widening to a river, flowing to lake and beach and ocean. Easy to figure that out, “Water Realm?”

  “Yes. Mers—mermen and merfems—are the major race who usually live in the ocean. Naiads and naiaders of ponds and lakes and streams are the minor folk. Most Waterfolk are the size of humans.”

  Kiri had bent down to sniff at the grass—something smelled fabulous—and how could she smell in the game? She didn’t know, but the scent went to her head, spiraled through her body.

  Think! She straightened slowly. “So dwarves and brownies aren’t our size?”

  “Dwarves are shorter and stockier than humans, perhaps the tallest is four feet tall. Brownies are even smaller.”

  “Uh-huh.” She peered at the distant waves of the really blue ocean, beyond the sparkling white beach. Yes, too-bright colors, but in those faraway waves did she see the hint of a castle? Maybe turrets occasionally revealed to be pearlescent shell-pink?

  Lathyr’s hands came down on her shoulders. He’d moved behind her. Pure sensation rippled through her. She couldn’t help herself from sniffing the fingers on her right shoulder, again a little salt, some sort of fresh odor, and the fragrance all around her, though more intense. “What is that smell?”

  “In the game?” He chuckled. “Magic.”

  “Oh, of course. I still can’t figure out how we can smell stuff in the game.” Maybe there was scent on the visors, or they emitted fragrance in bursts like air fresheners.

  Another amused laugh from Lathyr. “Magic. Now turn and look at the other two realms...our time is running out.”

  “Huh.” But she did turn, scanned the white-blue-violet mist and the castle in the air, perched on a huge puffy white cloud with streaks of violet. “One guy explaining the realms to me? This is a lame opening, I could write better.” Too late she realized she�
��d been offensive. “Sorry.”

  “I didn’t write the scenario,” Lathyr said coolly. “We will have a virtual guide. We were given permission for the new game no more than a fortnight ago. Ms. Emberdrake has been concentrating on the game itself.”

  Kiri winced. Yeah, she’d offended him, maybe Jenni, too. She swallowed. “I’m sure it’s amazing.” She pushed a little. “And that’s why you need me. I can help.” She waved again, still enjoying the butterflies. “Okay, that’s the Air Realm. Castle in the clouds is a big clue.”

  “That’s right. The denizens of the Air Realm are elves and airsprites.”

  She twisted from his grip to stare at him. “Elves? Really elves?”

  “Yes.”

  She couldn’t prevent a girl-squeal from emerging. “Awesome. I could be an elf?”

  “In the Air Realm, yes.” His voice remained cool. Ah, well.

  “How big are they? Bitty like Santa’s elves or big and—” sexy, no, she wouldn’t say that “—hunky like Tolkien’s elves in the movies?”

  “They are usually taller than regular humans, but more slender,” Lathyr said austerely. Kiri guessed her “hunky” irritated him as much as “sexy” might have.

  “Oh. And airsprites?”

  “They might be considered your elves—though I believe airsprites appear as described more often in huma—literature and art depicting fairies.”

  “Oh, small then?”

  “Yes, they are humanoid-looking when they care to be.”

  “All right. You’ve already done a lot of work on this game.”

  “Yes,” Jenni said in her ear again, in a slightly choked voice, like she was laughing? “Though not so much on the opening.”

  Kiri winced again.

  “And we will have eight races, and only eight,” Lathyr said.

  “Oh, no humans?”

  “Not at this time,” Jenni said. “Thirty-second warning, Lathyr and Kiri.”

  “Oh.” Scanning the Air Realm, Kiri didn’t see any great detail. She could definitely make a contribution there, if it really was only sketched in.

  She turned to the red-yellow Fire Realm. This appeared very detailed, as if it might be the best developed realm—red and sandy rock formations, desert, sand dunes of white and brown. Multicolored hot flames dancing in the air, even forming into sheets of heat waves distorting the rest of the picture. “Wow, Jenni, Fire Realm is great. You must have worked hard on it.”

  “Thank you!” Pleasure radiated in Jenni’s voice.

  “Fire Realm has djinns—” Lathyr began.

  “Djinns like genies?” Kiri asked.

  “Yes, djinnmen and djinnfems as the major race,” Lathyr finished.

  Kiri imagined herself in a turban, maybe a metallic golden one. Gold lamé with a big ruby. Tacky but wonderful. “What kind of costumes do you have?” she asked. And did djinn manifest from smoke? Did they have lamp domiciles? Did they fly? Or have flying carpets?

  “Not nearly as good a range of costumes as our game Fairies and Dragons,” Jenni said with regret.

  “Oh.” Kiri cleared her throat. “Yet. Not as good a wardrobe yet. I can help with that.”

  “I like your attitude,” Jenni said. “And what I’ve seen of your costumes in our times playing together in Fairies and Dragons, you’ll be a great help.”

  Kiri was glad she’d already deleted all hideous fashion mistakes.

  “The minor folk are firesprites,” Lathyr continued. “Like airsprites, they are significantly smaller than humans, perhaps as tall as eighteen inches as the maximum. Again, they tend to be less substantial than the major folk, the djinns.”

  “Time,” Jenni said. “Logging Kiri Palger and Lathyr Tricurrent out of the opening to the prologue of Transformation.”

  Chapter 8

  KIRI BECAME AWARE of the mesh chair under her butt. Her nose missed the scent of magic, and tears nearly squeezed from her eyes at being back in the real world. Stupid! She swallowed hard, made sure her eyes were dry before she pulled off her visor. Her monitor had gone into sleep mode. She wanted to jiggle the mouse to see if she might recapture the view from the hill.

  “Well, Kiri, what do you think?” Jenni was right there, staring down at her. Kiri pulled off her gloves harder than she’d anticipated because her palms were sticky. Looking up at Jenni, Kiri had to blink a bit because the woman actually looked a little red, like she’d gotten a sunburn.

  Kiri rubbed her eyes, her fingers definitely smelled like her own sweat, and said the first thing that came to her mind in response to Jenni’s question. “I’m starving.”

  “Hmm.” Jenni’s brows dipped. “Maybe I’d better talk to my kitchen staff.”

  Kitchen staff, in an office? Jenni sauntered to the door.

  “No, no!” Kiri amended. “Don’t worry about it.”

  On her way out, Jenni tossed over her shoulder. “Sounds like the virtual reality might burn some energy.”

  Lose weight while game playing. Oh, yeah, a win-win situation. “If that’s true, the marketing possibilities are incredible,” she said to Lathyr. He looked just the same. “Are you hungry?”

  His smile was slow and male. His eyes didn’t really linger on her. Not really. “For food? No.” He sat in the last chair, his trousers still with knife creases. Kiri felt a little wrung out, glanced down to see if the slight dampness between her breasts showed. No. Good.

  “I am more accustomed to the...ah, game, than you.” He swiveled until he faced her and set his arm along the edge of the desk. The keyboard platform was still tucked under it.

  “More accustomed to the game? You don’t strike me as a gamer.”

  His smile frosted. “Not often in this alternate reality.”

  “Huh.”

  His gaze turned considering. “Perhaps I should say that I am more accustomed to a magical atmosphere.”

  Like that made sense.

  Jenni walked in with a steaming omelet. “Here’s a mushroom, spinach and cheese omelet for you, and an English muffin.”

  Kiri stared. “I love mushrooms, spinach and cheese.” She always stocked all three items. Amazing that the kitchen here had something like that.

  Jenni’s smile was close to a smirk. She set the plate, a paper napkin and a fork down on the desk beyond Kiri’s monitor. “Eat up. We’ll have to, um, generally keep track of the physical energy drain with regard to the virtual reality of the game.”

  Scooting over to the meal, Kiri dug in, but only ate a scrumptious bite before replying. “Like I told Lathyr, losing weight while gaming is one hell of a marketing point.”

  “Ah, hmm.” Jenni frowned as she returned to her own seat. Like Lathyr, she faced Kiri and put her arm on the desk. Unlike him, her fingers drummed on the polished wood. “Well, the hardware is very expensive. I’m not sure how widespread we’ll be disseminating the game.”

  Kiri stopped midbite. This was her game, her career, her future. “What? It’s not going to be an online massive multiplayer game like Fairies and Dragons?”

  Jenni’s brown eyes widened. “Yes, of course, the general software...and available in stores, too, to lead people online to Transformation. But the gloves and visors are currently quite proprietary intellectual property items.”

  “Oh.”

  “We may allow only some players to buy into the virtual reality aspect of the game,” Lathyr said.

  Discrimination. For the rich? Kiri chewed the omelet. The flavor should have stayed the same, but it hadn’t. Bitterness on her own taste buds maybe. “Like who?” she asked.

  Again Jenni answered smoothly. “Like those who do extremely well in the general game. This isn’t the only game to have tiers of players, according to who wants to pay and who wants it free,” Jenni pointed out.

  “Oh,” Kiri repeated. She drank some raspberry fizzy water—it went unexpectedly well with the eggs. Her taste buds had perked up. “That’s all right then.”

  Lathyr snorted.

  Jenni chuckled. “I se
nse a discrimination by skill level, here.”

  Kiri nodded. “Choice and skill. You make the choice as to how long and involved you want to be with the game, and develop your skill.”

  “Meritocracy,” Lathyr said.

  He actually sounded dubious.

  “Americans believe in that, even though it isn’t true,” Jenni said, her accent British. And Kiri belatedly remembered that Jenni lived in Denver, but had grown up in England.

  Kiri stuffed egg in her mouth, drank and hurriedly finished her meal. “I’m so sorry for this, eating on the job.”

  Jenni shrugged. “Not a problem.” She glanced at Lathyr. “We’re easy enough on this project, and have some wiggle room.”

  “Thanks.” Kiri stood and picked up the breakfast stuff. “Kitchen?”

  “We’ll take care of that,” Jenni said easily. “I’ll show you the bathroom to wash up.”

  “Thanks.” And was Kiri going to be embarrassed and repeat the word all day long? She put the plate, crumpled napkin and fork on the counter and followed Jenni down a still-empty hallway with a murmur of voices sounding only behind one door.

  “This is the executive area and like many executives, ours work more out of the office than in it,” Jenni said, as if catching Kiri’s stares.

  “Um-hmm,” Kiri said. She hadn’t ever worked on an executive floor so didn’t know what to expect.

  “What do you think of the game?” Jenni asked.

  Kiri didn’t have to fake a smile. “I really like the concept and the taste I got of it.”

  “Good.” Jenni waved at the women’s bathroom door.

  When Kiri had finished, Jenni was still in the corridor, talking on her cell. “That is correct. Later.” She hung up and smiled at Kiri, stuck the cell in a pocket. “Ready for full-immersion and to start play?”

  Sounded a little daunting, but Kiri nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Another wide smile with sparkling eyes. “Good.” Jenni actually rubbed her hands. “This project is going to be a winner.”