111111…

  I punched in six ones on the keypad. The thin clear strip over the keypad flared, rendering the digits in glowing green segments. Then I pressed the green button on the bottom right corner.

  Bzzzzz…

  A loud, static whine tore through the air.

  Wrong code.

  051431…

  I punch in another set of numbers, mostly on a whim...

  Another static buzz grated against my ear.

  But I was more focused on the gap between keys. My fingertips shifted. The bones beneath elongated, pushing out past the skin as they tapered into fine, conductive needles. I jammed them into the thin slit between the plastic keys and the steel casing.

  Schlick.

  My metallic probes pierced the rubber insulation and slid against the naked copper wiring. Whenever the current flowed through the wires, it branched up my arm, pricking my nerves with a jolt of raw voltage.

  Each press of a key triggered a burst of electric pulses through the wires and into me.

  676767…

  I keyed the sequence, not to open the door, but to listen to whispering pulses.

  They were signals, High. Low. Open. Closed. I broke down the patterns, matching inputs and outputs to possible functions as the signals travel up and down the wires.

  I pressed the green key.

  A barrage of activity lit up the twisted copper. Sequences of energized buzzing pulsated up my arms—a frantic, overheard conversion of coded lightning.

  Isolate… Replicate… Simulate…

  I fired my own signals down the lines and watched the responses.

  Iterate… Refine… Hijack…

  These were key generation functions, hashing calculations, power operations… signature verification.

  I generated my own keys, sent signals to bypass checksums, and instantiated authed sessions.

  A UI popped up in my vision, and I sensed myself reaching deeper into the machinery. My signals were being propagated down into its computational units.

  It was only as I watched over all the complex operations that the question dawned on me…

  How?

  How did I know what these calculations are? How did I know what to do?

  There was no time to pause. I was close to something here.

  I felt it deep down.

  I generated more keys, packeted it with a list_files command and sent it through induced currents down a parallel set of wires, masking my origin.

  A flood of signals surged back in response, and the UI flickered.

  These were directories. They contained files with information related to the labels.

  ‘Entities’ probably had files describing the different animals, monsters, and items in the game. ‘Logs’ must contain records of what had occurred. ‘Dungeons’ held information on all the dungeons in the game. And ‘World’... that must describe what this reality actually was.

  Maybe I will get to the truth of things.

  But how did I know what directories were?

  I looked at my hand, at the metal needles protruding from flesh, stabbing into steel embedded in a stone wall to pilfer knowledge from a machine god.

  What am I?

  I had no memories of learning commands, formulating keys, or inducing currents.

  I did it all on instinct.

  Again, my mind formulated another command on its own, with barely a thought from me.

  A blue progress bar materialized in my vision, a percentage counter ticking upward over it. Roughly one percent per second.

  Slow, but not too bad.

  Something tugged at my shirt. Ally was looking up at me, her eyes round and pleading.

  “Please, can I see Mommy again? It’s been so long since you came back.”

  I looked down at the child. The progress bar followed, overlaying her face.

  “Alright. I will give way soon enough. Only a minute longer.”

  I had to sheath myself soon anyway. This was the longest I’d ever manifested, and the strain was mounting. If I stay out any longer, my Soul Points would drain and the hunger would hit.

  Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?

  But first, a peek at those files.

  50%... 60%... 70%...

  I need decoys. More keys. More sessions.

  My mind sent a flurry of large packets for the server to decode and process.

  80%...

  I induced currents in adjacent wires, reaching down to the compute units themselves to inject idle loops into the execution queue.

  90%... 95%...

  I injected false clock signals in an attempt to confuse the session purges.

  97%... 98%...

  99%...

  The number froze. The blue bar hung there in the center of my vision, mocking me. It refused to tick over.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  I waited, holding my breath for that final tick.

  A bolt of electricity shot up my arm. Blinding white-hot lightning rammed straight up my spine and exploded in my head. Raw voltage sizzled up my hair, yanking my head backwards.

  The familiar scent of charred flesh and burnt hair filled the air.

  Ally screamed in the distance.

  The UI dissolved into noise, and everything went dark.

  —

  Static snow dusted my vision when I opened my eyes. It appeared in jagged bursts, clouding the world for an instant before quickly fading. Every flicker sent a rattle through my brain, radiating agony from deep inside my skull.

  I shifted through my memories. The Keypad. The Demon Sword hijacking in. Then... the backlash.

  That thing was in me now. I felt it slithering through my brain, disturbing thoughts and distorting my vision.

  Fuck.

  The snow stuck again, a spike of pain behind my eyes making my teeth grind.

  I tried to sit up, but my body rebelled. My arms and my legs were heavy, while my chest was sore in places that shouldn't ache.

  A weight shifted on me. Ally was splayed across my chest, her two arms and four legs clutching tight.

  She lifted her head, leaving a damp patch of tears against my skin. “Mommy! I was so scared. I thought you were gone.”

  My arm finally obeyed. I cradled her head, gently patting her.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” I reassured her.

  But when I tried to open my status screen, the static returned with a vengeance, rattling my brain with fresh agony.

  Ally squeezed me tighter as I grimaced.

  I was back in the Queen’s cell, lying on the gelatinous bedding. A nurse ant stood nearby, holding a jug of red nectar, but the thought of it made my stomach turn. My tongue felt like a piece of charcoal, unable to taste anything.

  The slithering sensation struck again. It felt like a worm burrowing holes through my mind.

  Was it spreading inside me?

  I thought of that warning from before: Incoming Data Spike…

  Had I been infected by something from the server?

  A virus.

  The answer blared in my mind like a siren. A warning from deep within.

  My gaze met Ally’s tearful eyes, and another panicked thought seized me.

  These ants… they drink more than just the blood. They might take in the virus.

  Who knows what might happen if whatever is in my head infects the hive.

  “Ally, did you drink my blood? Afterwards?”

  She shook her head violently. “No Mommy! I would never feed on you without your permission.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  Slowly, I peeled her off my chest, and forced myself upright. My body protested with spasms of deep, bruising pain.

  Looking down, I saw a blackened line tracing up my arm, disappearing under the sleeve of my robe. I could feel tender spots on my temples and neck, exit wounds where the electricity had arced out of me.

  They were covered in cool, moist membranes that soothed the heat.

  Some kind of bandages?

  “Good. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I patted her head, my hand trembling slightly. “But I have to go. It might be for a while. Okay?”

  Before she could answer, Valorie rushed into the chamber.

  “Your Majesty!”

  Her mental voice slammed into me, echoing loudly through my already sore skull.

  “Oww…” I groaned, doubling over. “How long was I out?”

  “A day. We didn’t know what to do after you were knocked out by the Dungeon god, so we brought you here. The Synthicators made salves for your burns.”

  The flood of thought words rattled my brain, each syllable hammering away at me.

  My hand shot out toward her. “Stop, no more words. Just… I’ve got to go.”

  I had promised Mama I’d be back in two days, and I was already a day late!

  I stumbled off the gelatinous bed, my legs wobbling. Valorie caught me. My nightshirt, which must’ve been burnt to a crisp by the lightning, was gone. In its place, I wore a robe woven from silky white threads—spider silk, perhaps, or something the larvae had spun.

  I pulled the robe tighter around myself to hide the angry burn marks scarring my chest.

  “Take care of Ally,” I whispered up to Valorie, my voice raspy. “If I don’t get back… keep her safe.”

  She helped me to my feet. I staggered back to the bed and leaned over, kissing Ally on her forehead.

  “Mommy will try to get back soon.”

  Then, I reached for my bracelet, praying that it still worked. The waypoints screen appeared, but it was unstable. Random horizontal lines tore through the display, distorting the text.

  I chose the Second Home.

  Light dust drizzled from above. The scene before me transitioned from the waxy walls of the Queen’s cell to the tall glass windows and fine-grain wood of my capital bedroom.

  Another blast of static snow blinded me, and I wobbled. I pitched forward, but instead of the hard carapace of an ant, Mama’s soft arms pulled me tight.

  “Jo. Why do you always have to make this so hard?”

  “I am sorry. I messed up,” I mumbled, my words slurring.

  She caught my chin, tilting my head up. Her eyes went wide as she examined me.

  “Healer! Claire, go get the healer!”

  She must’ve seen the burned marks.

  —

  The old healer worked miracles, patching up the worst of the burns on my head and neck. Then the girls covered the rest with makeup until the evidence was buried beneath flawless skin.

  Mama watched from the corner, her expression dark. She had an interrogation ready, I could see it in the tight set of her jaw, but she put it on hold. I had to be dressed for dinner.

  The static snow assaulted my vision again as the girls fussed over my hair and dinner dress. But this time, instead of the brain-drilling, slithering sensation of the worm, fragments of memories took hold. They were distracting but not painful, at least in the physical sense.

  I was Steve again, sitting on the couch with the controller in hand, finishing up my last run of the game.

  I was Joan again, herding the chickens out their coops and admiring the light as the morning sun broke over the fields.

  I was Joan again, climbing up a ladder, shouting for the men to follow as rocks came flying down from the parapets above.

  I was little Josephine again, bundled Mama’s arms and looking up into her dark eyes as she fed me.

  The memories were becoming more real than the room I was standing in. It was getting harder to answer the girls when they asked about the party as they put on my dress.

  “Jo, where did this robe come from? The material feels very fine, and it almost seems to glow,” Nellin asked, running her fingers over the white fabric.

  I didn’t recall my reply, because right then, the memory of eating soft bread on my Name Day gripped me. The taste of something so soft and warm after all the cold grit.

  When I snapped back, the girls were staring at me, giving me strange looks.

  “Daughter, I heard you might have a run-in with the Queen during the party.” Father suddenly commented in the middle of our main course.

  “You disappeared quite suddenly afterwards. We were all very concerned,” Elise added from beside him, her voice gentle but probing.

  “Yes,” Ben chimed in, nodding. “My friends and I were looking to talk more with you, but we saw you storm away from the garden. The Queen, that foreigner, and the Twin Stars strolled out shortly after. Were they ganging up on you?”

  “Ben!” Father cut him off sharply. “Sarsee would never gang up on anyone. She’s strict, yes, and a hard woman. But deep down, she cares. I’ve known her for close to fifteen years, and I can assure you she is a good person.”

  He turned back to me, his expression softening with concern. “She… didn’t attack you, did she?”

  I shook my head.

  Not directly, no. But that’s not her style, neither as Sarsee nor as Allison.

  “No, we just disagreed on something.”

  “Disagree?” Elise remarked, raising an eyebrow. “What could you and the Queen possibly disagree on?”

  My vision distorted, and a memory took hold, filling my mind.

  Ally and I were sneaking into the locker of the boy who attacked me in the playground. I had thought she was just going to tear up his note book or scrawl all over his gym clothes. Instead, she opened his laptop, made me break through the login, and then grinned coldly as she took control, her finger flying across the keys. The next day, the kid was suspended. We heard he transferred afterwards.

  I looked into Father’s grey eyes behind his glasses.

  Ally holds close all those she finds dear. But she will plow ruthlessly through anyone who threatens them.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that this ‘good person’ killed Mother. Would he even believe me? Especially without proof.

  And did Ally actually do it for his sake? I couldn’t tell at all.

  “Father, I’m not sure you should trust her Majesty. She’s dangerous.”

  “Of course she is, child. She’s the Queen. We know each other. We’ve been through battles together. She was there at our wedding.” He placed a hand over his heart. “If you have any issues with her, I’m sure I can help smooth it out.”

  “I…”

  Another burst of snow blinded me.

  This time, the memory that took hold wasn’t of life. It was of death.

  It was my last moment. The one that I had experienced so many times.

  The smell of roast meat from the table twisted into the scent of charred flesh.

  Plates clattered down against the ground, spraying food and sauce everywhere as my body slammed against the table. But it wasn't a table anymore. It was a stake.

  I was struggling against my binding, pulling hard against the rough wood as the flames roared over me. Blistering heat scorched my scalp. My fingers and toes screamed out as the fire charred through them, peeling skin off of boiling flesh.

  My chest was burning. My lungs were aflame.

  I shrieked, a sharp, ragged scream that echoed against the dining hall ceiling.

  The memory played again.

  The fire. The heat. The pain.

  I thrashed, clawing at myself to break free of my bindings as the flames burned into me.

  More shrieks tore from my throat as the flames burned my skin.

  I clawed at it.

  I need to get away! I need to get away!

  “No daughter! Stop!” Father’s frantic voice cut through my screams.

  For some reason, he was grabbing my wrists, holding my hands apart. My fingers were slippery, covered in blood.

  The memory looped.

  My scream and pain flooded my senses, drowning away all else.