Jericho's Gate |
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Bren
MacDibble is a Melbourne-based writer whose desire to write fiction
stems from a complete distrust of reality. "I mean, wouldn't it
all make more sense if we discovered it was just someone's idea of a
joke?" Bren describes herself as poorly educated and a verbal duffer
("Writing's correctable, not like that scrambly speaking stuff!")
but, as this is her sixth story to reach the outside world, she hopes
this won't stand in the way of a writing career. You can find out more
at her website. http://members.optushome.com.au/brenmacd/ "Lolita, where are you from?" "Jericho’s Gate." "Ha! No, in RL, and what’s your real name?" "Forgive me, my lord, but you know my name — Lolita of the Red Frog Inn." Lolita took pride in staying in character. She believed it added to her mystique and made her the most popular player in Jericho’s Gate. For Lolita, online gaming wasn’t just a hobby, it was her profession. To survive, she traded surplus weapons, potions and armour with other players. Her character had the highest agility rating. Only she could easily slip along fragile ledges into Troll Pass to loot the dead. Lolita's odd profession tied her to her computer day and night. Of course she rested when the other gamers went offline, yet stayed vigilant in case customers entered the Frog. Lolita didn’t mind the hours. Selling imaginary goods for real money was fast making her rich. She enjoyed haggling with the traders — and for extra company, she had side chats with regular players. This guy, Duncan, was nice. He played Friday night through Saturday night and the whole time they kept a private side chat window going. He teased her, joked with her, tried to trick her out of character but always had to concede. "If I knew the woman behind the enigma that is the lovely Lolita, I believe I might fall in love." "My lord, you flatter a lowly Inn-keeper’s daughter. But I will keep a tankard of ale on the bar at the Frog. Perchance you will call and flatter me more." "Arrrgh! You’re driving me nuts! What are you hiding?" "Alas sir, ‘tis with great shame that I must admit my father, the landlord of the Frog, is but a standard response character and as such, should you ask him for my hand, he would reply, ‘What’ll it be, sire?’" "LOL! Sweet Lolita, you’ll crack eventually, and I’ll be here when you do." Lolita was pleased Duncan would wait. She planned to meet him to see if his RL personality was just as delightful, but not yet. Business was business. Very soon she would buy a house of her own and go back to doing what she used to do. Then there would be time for someone like Duncan. But there was a problem. Lolita thought long and hard about what she used to do but couldn’t remember. Ludicrous, of course. For days she wracked her brain. She sifted beyond her immediate memories for faces, names, incidents from before she joined the game. But she still could not remember. She’d always been obsessive — it suited gaming — but to lose reality? Panic threw Lolita's mind into a new obsession — the search for RL memories. So consumed was she that she dropped out of chats and neglected trading. Gamers left the Inn without full inventories. *** The programmers were alerted. "That Turing test is at it again." "Lolita?" "Yeah, she’s stuck in a loop." "I’m tired of angry emails about not being able to buy a shovel. Let’s just rewrite her into a standard response character."
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