Thirty Levels Away

"I'm hiring you to kill someone."

Ortavio Broderbund raised an eyebrow and shifted uncomfortably in his rather small but executive-looking swivel chair. The aging bureaucrat peered at him from behind a clipboard so old that seedlings grew in the cracks, threatening to turn into the world's first lined paper tree. Broderbund had lowered his own clipboard in acknowledgement of his employer's higher rank. The Executive Head of Security, still tall and muscular despite his age, was authorised by his company to have people killed, and would do so without remorse, and the look in his eyes made it absolutely certain that everyone knew this.

"I may require slightly more information that that, sir." requested Broderbund.

"Young. Mad. Gender unknown. Uses a Mac." his eyes narrowed dramatically, "They call teh... The Exile."

"Oh, right." he sighed. He hated genderless pronouns. "So... who wants... teh... dead, and why?"

"The employer must remain unknown." the bureaucrat informed him, "They are not very popular, you see, because they have a huge monopoly. As for why... we believe that teh hacked into their systems and somehow caused every computer running their operating system to crash and become unusable."

"Are we thinking of the same operating system?"

"I assume so."

"Sir, with all due respect, it crashes all the time anyway. And frequently leaves the computer unusable."

"Don't talk such nonsense!" roared the beaurocrat, thumping his clipboard and showering Broderbund's brand new suit with blue ink, "Just do the job or don't do the job!"

"Give me one good reason why I should kill some stupid hacker just because your operating system doesn't work."

"Reason one: The Exile is far more dangerous than a hacker." the bureaucrat tapped his pen on the desk, "Reason two... you're being paid two million pounds."

"HOW MUCH? Oh, well, in that case, I'll be off now to find my gun." he smiled nervously.

"Well done. i knew we could count on a man of your esteemed reputation. Your mark was last seen in a fuyodol riy town called Dusty Erias. The train is in half an hour."

Broderbund picked up his briefcase and walked out.

Dear diary,

When did I become an assassin? I used to work in an office, then one day, I filled in a wrong form somewhere, and got this job. The pay is good, but I wish I could be nice to someone instead of killing them for a change. It's so depressing. I hope the company who gave me this assignment don't find out how much I hate their operating system and that I never ever use it.

An announcement interrupted him- the train was coming into the station. He quickly saved his work and shut down his impressively shiny black laptop. Tux the penguin waved goodbye. Broderbund sighed and alighted onto the platform. He was in fuyodol riy country now- 'fuyodol' meaning 'exiled from' and 'riy' meaning 'everywhere else'. Dusty Erias was a dump. Quite literally, in parts- the 'town' seemed to be positioned strategically next to a garbage tip. Quite possibly, it was built from whatever the inhabitants could find in there, nailed together and labeled 'somewhere to live'. There were no shops, but market stalls dotted the town randomly, with pedlars loudly displaying their wares. One side of the town was devoted entirely to a car park full of battered old Landrovers. Dogs barked and howled along enthusiastically to some depressed teenager's extremely bad poetry about how much they missed their home and were going to kill themselves. Dusty Erias was populated entirely by exiles- not rich tax exiles, not shabby exiles who came in their thousands and ate all the food, but real exiles.

"Hey, hey, almaty, we'ith fo' fuyodol?" said a harsh male voice. Broderbund shook his head, signalling that he didn't understand what the hell he was talking about.

"Ach, noob!" the man spat and walked off to shout at one of the market stall owners. Broderbund decided to hang around the market stalls to see if he could pick up any useful gossip. They were made of brightly-coloured cloth and mostly sold items that couldn't be called useful by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn't even tell what most of them were. They seemed to be either mushrooms or portable software. Some of it was rusty. Most people seemed more interested in haggling than buying things.

"Hey, you." a hairy hand tapped him as he was inspecting the market stalls. It belonged to a pedlar, an old man with a bad squint. "I know what you're up to."

Broderbund tensed, suddenly paralysed with fear. I've been found out!

"You're a door-to-door salesman, aren't you?" he growled, "Your multinational companies, come to take all the customers from our little shops. Leave us to the swindling, we're much better than you are! You couldn't lie to a five-year-old! If I ever so much as hear one complaint about you... I'll sell you!"

Just to prove he wasn't joking, he picked up a price-tag gun and pointed at Broderbunds head. He ran away. No more shopping trips, he told himself sternly. The desert heat will drive you insane if you don't finish the job right now.

He knew where to go. There was only one place worthy of the one they called... The Exile.

Central Tower was an enormously high building situated in the exact middle of the town. In contrast with the surroundings, which looked like there was a prize called 'Improvisation Of The Year', it was a smooth, minimalist block of sandstone with five huge steps leading up to it. Market stalls surrounded its walls like flies on a giraffe's legs. The locals informed him that it was the most important building in the town, divided into forty-five floors. The first fifteen were for studying, the next fifteen were medical facilities and the last fifteen were places of worship for the pantheon of different religions kept by the exiles. Carefully, he crept through the heavy double doors, noting the phoenix logo on the archway above them. Inside was a relatively normal reception ares, with a desk and a few chairs. on either side was a flight of stairs and a lift. A small boy was playing on the stairs. When he saw the man, he pointed to a banana he was eating. Finishing it off, he dropped the banana skin and peered at it with what looked like intense concentration. it rippled for a few seconds, then began floating slowly towards the man. The boy blinked, and the banana skin was deposited neatly on top of Broderbunds head.

"Are you... The Exile?" Broderbund asked the boy, who was now doubled up with laughter. He shook his head.

"The Exile's a nice lady. She taught me how to do psychic stuff."

Broderbund gulped. It was probably a student prank, but... he felt some energy there, crackling through the deeper planes of physics.

"Have you come to visit her? She's in the medical room, floor thirty. Mind the step."

The assassin thanked him and stepped into the lift. He almost stepped right out again. It had not occurred to him until now just how dangerous this assignment could be. He had no idea what he was dealing with. He was walking straight into the heart of enemy territory and he hadn't even had lunch yet. No, he told himself, do not chicken out. Think of the money. Think of what that homicidal bureaucrat might do to you if he finds out that you failed him.

The lift went 'ding' and he walked out.

Walking along the corridors of Floor Thirty, he finally found the door labeled 'Medical Room, Mind The Step.' What he saw there was unlike anything he had expected to confront. She was dying. On the bed in the corner of the room, the girl lay, hooked up to a life-support machine. Broderbund stared at her, unable to think of anything to do.

"HP one to the minus ten... cortical impulses failing... lunch break... chips..." muttered a deep voice in-between some other incomprehensible medical jargon. Broderbund jumped. A giant sheep! After calming down and looking more closely, he saw that it was actually a very tall doctor whose face was covered in thick white hair. He was examining the man as though he was a laboratory animal. Then, shakig his head, he pushed him out of the door.

"Ah, chief examiner. You're here to discuss when she can take her exams." he said, "I'm afraid her condition has taken a turn for the worse. This is the first case I've seen of terminal exam stress."

"I think you've got me confused with someone else." mumbled Broderbund.

"Oh, right. Well, be careful and mind the step." he said, wandering off down the corridor to buy some chips. Broderbund was alone in the room.

What the heck am I doing? He looked at her- she had a serene expression on her face, as though she was resting, finally taking a long break from the exhausting business of keeping herself alive in this cruel, exam-filled world. The meters and dials were flashing, the parameters dangerously low. She had no defences- all he had to do was pull the plug. But what kind of act would that be? What would it reduce him to? A cowardly, filthy, loathsome killer. That was not him, he was civilised. At least he could always say that he had won honourable victories over formidable opponents.

I hope that you're not under the impression that I don't know what you're up to.

Hearing the voice in his head, Broderbund stood up and yelled.

I'm telepathically communicating with you. I can read your mind. You're going to pull the plug on me, aren't you?

"I... I'll leave quietly. Don't kill me!"

I couldn't if I tried. My powers are for good- I use them to heal people and communicate with higher life-forms on different planets. I was only talking to the paperclip, but they thought I broke their computers. Their computers broke because they were using faulty products. I suppose I'm going to die now. Listen, it's okay. This machine needs a rest anyway, it hasn't been switched off for twenty years.

"But... oh well, what the heck. People do this all the time." he yanked the plug out of the socket, then sank his head into his arms. The machines fell silent. He could feel what was left of her frail life-force draining from her.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! What the bloody hell just happened?" screamed the doctor's voice.

The room erupted into chaos. He was thrown backwards by a white whirlwind. A hand pushed him into a cupboard, and he heard a loud click. The machines were turning back on. Through the darkness, he sensed a string, and pulled on it. Light filled the cupboard.

That Dr. Maucledenia... he's Asclepius incarnate, I swear it.

"He just locked me in a cupboard!" complained Broderbund.

Cupboard? Is the cupboard still there?

"YES, the cupboard is 'still there'! Now kindly remove me from it! Why is there a Mega Drive in here?"

Oh, that's for people who get bored.

"Get bored doing WHAT?"

The cupboard is a Gigyas machine. We nicked it from the clerics - they were only using it to amplify prayers anyway. It generates energy from mental emissions, and powers my life-support machine in an emergency. But we can't get the door to unlock. We put an 'out of order' sign on the door. Didn't you see it?

"So I'm trapped in here?" Dread was creeping up on him. He had always been slightly claustrophobic, "Can't you unlock it? Isn't there a password or a lock or something?"

Well... the trouble is, the machine's AI tends to release people when it wants to. It can keep people alive indefinitely... if it wants to. You can't tell the machines what to do around here. If I were you, I'd just stay quiet and hope it forgets you're there. It'll get bored and open the door eventually.

Broderbund sighed and switched on the Mega Drive.