Pr (1)

  It looked like the set of a King Arthur movie. Or maybe some really expensive medieval-themed restaurant at Disneyland. It was roughly the size of a basketball court, only circular, with a ring of humongous wooden timbers around the outside holding up a ceiling 50 feet high. Directly in the center of the room was a round table the size of a studio apartment decked out with a buffet that would have embarrassed Las Vegas. The room around the table was covered in flags and banners, deer antlers, suits of armor and other King Arthur shit, except in the little alcove in which Cooper stood, where the walls were covered with maze symbols, three of them this time, one each in blue, green and red. In addition, just to Cooper’s right there there was an enormous spiral staircase descending down into darkness. He took a step toward it, leaning on the staff as he attempted to peek around the corner to see where it went.

  “Careful,” a female voice said, making him jump.

  Cooper turned. The speaker was a tall, thin woman of 35 or so wearing a jumpsuit and a leather aviator jacket. She was tan, with wide-set eyes, an angular face, and mousy brown hair that sat on her head like a birds’ nest. She stood at a respectful distance in the middle of the enormous room, wiping her hands on a towel, as if she had just stepped out of the workshop.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Cooper demanded.

  “Pardon me,” the woman replied, her voice strangely musical, like she was singing as much as talking. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that staircase can be a little fussy sometimes, and you really wouldn’t want to go down early. My name’s Amelia. And you must be Mister Cooper?”

  Cooper stared at her for a second. “I don’t know anyone named Cooper,” he finally said.

  “There’s some mistake then,” the woman named Amelia said with a frown, pulling out a notebook and a pencil. “Would you mind terribly if I asked your name?”

  “Smith,” Cooper said. “Dan Smith. I sell insurance.”

  “Very well then,” the woman replied, jotting something down in her notebook. “Pleasure to meet you, Mister Smith. As I said, my name is Amelia. I’m going to be your Librarian.”

  “And what does that mean exactly?”

  “It means that I’m here to answer whatever questions you may have. I’m sure you must be wondering where you are. But first, are you hungry?”

  The woman in the aviator jacket waved a hand at the enormous buffet table behind her. Cooper caught a whiff of something that might have been cilantro.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Are you sure?” Amelia asked. “I’m told the food here is quite good. Also this next part tends to be easier if-”

  “Why don’t you start by telling me what the fuck’s going on?” Cooper said, as politely as he could manage.

  “I’ll be happy to,” Amelia replied. “But would you mind if we at least sit down first? I’ve been on my feet all day. And I really do think you’ll want to be sitting down for this.”

  Cooper closed his eyes. He was starting to get pissed off. Still, he took a deep breath, following the strange woman over to the buffet table. As it turned out, the whole thing was Indian food. Literally the entire buffet. Next to the chair Amelia had picked for him was a pile of clean plates, a crockpot full of white rice and a basket of steaming flatbread. After that came 10 to 15 metal tureens filled with curries, pilafs, and biryanis of some type or another. Cooper decided the first one was probably chicken vindaloo. The ones beyond that he didn’t immediately recognize, though they all smelled amazing.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to make yourself a plate first?” Amelia asked from a seat near the drink station.

  Cooper gave her a look.

  “Alright then,” Amelia said. “You asked me to tell you what was going on, so now I’m going to do that. First of all, you’re not dead, and you’re not dreaming. That’s usually the first thing people want to know. What’s happened is that you’ve been pulled into a sort of parallel world. Are you familiar with Alice in Wonderland?”

  “You mean the fucking cartoon with the rabbit and the playing cards and the cat that’s on drugs?”

  “There wasn’t a cartoon yet in my day, but yes, that sounds about right. The point I’m trying to make is that this place isn’t like the world you and I are used to. It’s sort of like a game. A game that is very old, and very old-fashioned. It has certain rules to it, and as strange as they may seem, the trick is to learn those rules and turn them to your advantage.”

  “Groovy.” Cooper said flatly. “Where’s the exit?”

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  “I’m getting to that. Now this game has six parts to it. Or to be more precise, five parts and a tutorial. You’ll need to complete all of them in order to escape.”

  Cooper considered this for a second. “How many parts have I done so far?”

  “Just the tutorial.”

  Cooper didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he took another deep breath.

  “So you’re telling me,” he finally said, “that all that shit I just went through back there with the maze and the gladiators and the traps and that fucking Cowfucker with his enormous dick hanging out, all that was just the tutorial?”

  “For what it’s worth,” Amelia said, “you’re doing great. A lot of people don’t even get this far.”

  Cooper closed his eyes, counting to ten. It didn’t help at all.

  “You’re right,” he finally said. “I should eat something.”

  Cooper stood up from his chair, walking over to the row of tureens on the round table.

  “Is this chicken vindaloo?” he asked of the first one.

  “I wouldn’t kn-,” Amelia began, but she was interrupted by a crash as the tureen hit the floor. That was followed by another crash, then another as Cooper went around the table, overturning each of the curries, pilafs and biryanis onto the floor one by one. He then moved over to the far side of the table, upending trays of Tandoori vegetables, mango slices, gulab jamun and so forth, until finally he arrived at the drink station. There, just as he was about to smash a mountain of glass tumblers, Cooper found himself staring at something unexpected: a gallon-sized pitcher full of a golden liquid with a thick, heady froth. He sniffed at it.

  “Is this beer?” Cooper asked.

  “Looks to be,” Amelia replied.

  “It’s not poisoned or anything is it?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Amelia said with a shrug. “At least no more than usual.”

  Cooper thought for a second. Fuck it he finally decide, picking up the pitcher and pouring it directly into his mouth. The beer was amazing. Light, crisp, refreshing. It was the kind of drink that made you understand alcoholism. He threw back the entire pitcher in three large gulps.

  “More?” Amelia asked when he was finished, placing a second pitcher in front of him.

  “I should probably wait a second,” Cooper said, gasping, as he sank down into a chair. “Sorry about the buffet.”

  “You’re not the first.”

  “Do you have like a mop or something?”

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Amelia said, making a strange gesture with her hands. As soon as she did that there was a weird vibration in the floor. Then a moment later the overturned tureens began hopping back on the table one by one. Once the tureens were back in place, the food itself - which had been slowly congealing into a thick brown sludge on floor - began jumping back onto the table as well, sorting itself back into pilafs, curries, and biryanis, in the process. In five seconds flat, the whole buffet was good as new. A week ago it would have seemed like a miracle, but at this point shit like that just made Cooper tired.

  “So what is that, magic?” Cooper demanded, taking a clean glass from the stack and filling it with beer.

  “Yes,” Amelia said, almost apologetically.

  “So can I actually eat this stuff? Like is it even real?”

  “As real as anything here,” Amelia confirmed. “If you eat too much you’ll even gain weight.”

  “What about you?” Cooper said, taking a sip of beer. “How do I know you’re real?”

  “I’m as real as you are,” Amelia said. “I was born in Kansas. I went to Hyde Park High School in Chicago. But I found my archway in the South Pacific.”

  “Really?” Cooper said, pouring himself another. “So you got here the same way I did, with the maze and the nine-foot-tall murder cow?”

  “Oh no,” Amelia said. “There are literally hundreds of different tutorials. And most of them are much easier than yours. Mine was mostly just a bunch of drunken dwarves singing songs about gold mining.”

  “Far out,” Cooper said, taking yet another long sip.

  “It really wasn’t half bad,” Amelia agreed. “Anyway, there’s no reason to get into all that tonight. If you want my professional opinion as your Librarian, I suggest you take the next week off. Do nothing but eat, drink and sleep in. Once you’re good and rested, we can start talking about level two.”

  “I have a better idea,” Cooper said, slurring his words slightly as he picked up the pitcher to pour himself yet another glass. “I am going to eat some fucking Indian food, and while I do it, you’re going to tell me everything single fucking thing there is to know about this place. Got it?”

  Amelia smiled politely, ignoring the gentle bobbing and weaving of the finger in her face.

  “Very well,” she said. “I’ll start at the beginning.”

  * * * * *

  Name: Cooper of Vancouver

  Gender: Male

  Affiliation: None

  Age at Entry: 29

  Current Level: The Labyrinth (1)

  Jing: 10/10

  Qi: 14/14

  Shen: 0

  Life #: 2

  Status: Cursed (3)