Science Fiction
Date Published: April 14, 2022
Kashmira lived an ordinary life until an army of invaders sacked her city and left her for dead. When she awakens, she discovers she is a glitch in a virtual reality video game – destined only for deletion by the bots that hunt her.
Dugan is a bitterly disgruntled engineer who played a pivotal role in the creation of virtual reality games and the NPCs who inhabit them. Fired from the company he helped found, he seeks only revenge.
In a chance encounter, Dugan sees in Kashmira a tool to sabotage the games and avenge himself, and through him, Kashmira finds the help she desperately needs. As they traverse the worlds of virtual reality and their friendship deepens, it will take everything they have not only for her to win her freedom and survive, but also to answer the fundamental question of what “life” is.
Excerpt
Chapter
3
A damp
coolness brushed across her brow, and Kashmira murmured in comfort, slipping
back into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.
Next thing
she knew, pain stabbed her side and she was once again in the burning building.
She woke up gasping, but a pair of hands, gentle but firm, pressed her down
against the woven mat.
When at last she came to, she was lying on her
back as if glued there, hushed voices speaking over her, a dull ache at her
side. It was an awakening different from the ones before, less foggy, and she
had more distinct sensations of her body. And truth be told, it hurt.
“Ahhh,”
Kashmira moaned weakly, opening her eyes bit by bit and biting her lower lip in
agony. She moved her fingers to lightly touch the side of her lower belly and
pulled away in pain. Her body was wrapped in linen, and she rolled her arm back
to her side.
Eyes open,
she stared at what appeared to be a ceiling made of dirt. Off in a corner, she
detected a square of light partially illuminating the room she was in. A wooden
ladder was propped against the wall, leading up through the square opening.
Bundles of cloth lay in shadowy piles around her on the floor next to clay pots
and bowls.
As Kashmira
lay there, Baba’s face was the first to appear as she shuffled through her most
recent memories. Tears poured out of her eyes and dribbled into her ears. A
knot clenched in her chest as she sobbed.
Kashmira’s
thoughts were interrupted when the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder
and descended the ladder. She shut her eyes hurriedly and pretended to sleep. Who is this person?
A rhythmic
thump, thump, thump followed by the clattering of bowls reached her ears.
Shuffling feet edged closer to her, and she heard the swishing of cloth. Soon,
the same hands patted her forehead and tugged at the bandages.
Kashmira
winced.
“Cha. The
troubled dreamer awakes,” croaked a voice, warm and husky like the rustling of
dry leaves.
“Uhhh,”
Kashmira groaned.
“Lie still.
I’m only changing your bandages. The linen is soaked clean through,” the voice
clucked. Kashmira’s lids fluttered open and she stared into the face of an
older woman.
The woman’s wrinkles etched themselves across her skin and
her eyes, which were deep and honey brown. Her lips curved in the shape of a
small smile, and her hands carried a bowl of strange-smelling paste.
Tossing
aside the bloody bandages, the woman applied the paste with her bare hands,
talking as she did so. “You were out for a while. We had a hard time getting
you down here. You were losing so much blood, I worried you would not make it.
Only days before, you were running a high fever and crying out in your sleep.
But your cut was not deep. This poultice keeps the infection at bay.”
“Who is
we?”
“Oh. Just
me and Zahmud. He’s a clever boy, you know. It isn’t easy to steal or find the
ingredients for the poultice, but somehow, he was able to get them. He was up
and down the streets this past week.”
Past week? How long have I been out?
Streets? What streets?
“What?!
Where am I?” Kashmira asked as the woman wrapped fresh bandages around her.
“Underground.
In Al Shebbat.”
“Al
Shebbat?! Are we hiding?! The soldiers! They could still be here. They might be
looking for us.” Kashmira gulped air in panic and tried to sit up.
“Quiet!
Please, calm yourself.” The woman pushed her down, her eyebrows knit in guilt
and worry. “I’m so sorry for upsetting you. Maybe you should take another draft
of powdered poppy to help you sleep.”
“NO!” cried
Kashmira, suddenly fearful of falling back into the wakeful slumber. “You’ve
been drugging me?”
“I’m so
sorry. So sorry,” the woman repeated, shaking her head in genuine sorrow. “I
had to sedate you. Your pain would have been unbearable.”
Kashmira’s mind buzzed with
questions, but she decided to ask the most pressing one.
“Who are
you?” she croaked.
“I am
Aasfa,” the woman said. “And it looks like Zahmud has brought dinner.”
Kashmira
craned her neck in the direction of the creaking ladder where a young man
descended while clutching something wrapped in parchment. Skipping the last few
rungs, he jumped to the bottom and handed the package to Aasfa. As he did so,
his eyes caught sight of Kashmira. He blinked in surprise before narrowing them
at her with suspicion.
“She
wakes,” he said.
Aasfa
unfolded the parchment and tossed the fish onto the frying pan, apologizing all
the while. “Please forgive him. He is a little suspicious of everyone.”
Kashmira
surveyed Zahmud in silence, guessing him to be about her age. His nose jutted
out as if it had been broken before, and his sour mouth was carved into a
frown.
While Aasfa
seasoned and fried the fish, Zahmud busied himself by washing the used pots in
a basin by the far wall with his back to her. But she sensed him watching her
out of the corner of his eye.
Aasfa diced
the meat to serve along with cold flatbread. She handed a plate to Zahmud and
carried another one over to Kashmira. Propping herself onto one elbow, Kashmira
tried to take the plate with her other hand.
“No need. I
feed you.” Aasfa spooned bits of the fish and bread into Kashmira’s mouth.
At first,
her queasy stomach recoiled, but after a moment, Kashmira swallowed as fast as
she could chew.
“Easy,
don’t choke,” chuckled Aasfa lightly.
After she
cleaned the entire plate, Kashmira was struck by a wave of fatigue. She
supposed sitting up, talking, and thinking was hard work. But as she lay back
down to digest, the pain from her wounds faded bit by bit and she grew sleepier
by the minute.
The poppy seeds! She cursed as the drug
numbed her senses. Where am I? Her
thoughts echoed and sleep washed over her once more.
Through the days that followed, Kashmira slept and woke up only to eat and use the chamber pot. She lay awake a few minutes at a time, listening to what went on around her. Both her new companions came and went through the opening she figured led to the outside world, for it was bright or dark depending on the time of day or night. Her curiosity gnawed at her. What was beyond that tantalizing little square of light?
One day,
Kashmira opened her groggy eyes and wiggled her fingertips, expecting to return
to her slumber. But sleep did not come. She gingerly sat up and glanced around.
The whole chamber was bathed in a soft yellow glow. Feeling her side, she found
her wound closing nicely and the pain was low and dull.
“Aasfa
probably lightened my dose,” she mused.
Mustering
all her strength, she stumbled to her feet, placing one hand on the wall for
balance. She paced around the small space to stretch her legs. After countless
laps to prove to herself she would not keel over anytime soon, she hobbled
slowly up the ladder. When she poked her head above the entrance, the heady
odor of soil and greenery filled her nostrils. Grabbing the root of a tree for
support, she hauled herself up onto the dirt and looked around. She gasped as
she recognized where she was.
Above her
were vines and flowers, gently fluttering in the breeze the same way they did
on the day of the invasion. She sat there for a moment listening to the
fountain’s song. Kashmira frowned.
Was that the noise of market chatter? Standing up, she wandered to the archway,
gazed out, and covered her mouth in shock. Her movements strained her wound,
but her pain was completely forgotten in her confusion.
“But how?!”
Kashmira’s heart thumped as she peered out. The market was exactly the way it
was before with the same bustling pace. Peddlers spread their wares on rugs.
Wealthier merchants set up awnings over tables of glimmering copper pans and
silver teapots. Chickens clucked in cages beneath tents while men haggled and
women hunted for groceries.
She blinked
and blinked, but the scene before her did not disappear. The spires and
minarets of Al Shebbat pierced the clear skies above her head. She left the
archway behind and emerged into the street. Sure enough, the city was still
there.
“It’s
probably just another dream.” Kashmira walked the streets, past bathhouses
exhaling steam and mosques with their gold-leafed doors, until she stood before
the familiar space she called home.
She was unsure
what she expected to see. Blackened ruins?
But no.
Kashmira’s lungs tightened at the sight of a raven-haired girl with olive skin
pouring coffee from a silver teapot. As if sensing Kashmira’s eyes on her, the
girl straightened and stared back. For a moment, both froze. Then, pointing a
bewildered finger at her, the girl called with a slight quiver in her voice,
“Baba, come here. Please.”
“Kashmira,
what is it?” The gruff voice nearly made her knees buckle. A mustached man came
out of his kitchen and paused.
Baba did a double take and rubbed
his eyes.
“She…” said
the girl, “looks…like me.”
By then,
the other guests of the coffeehouse had stopped to see what all the fuss was
about. Murmurs and whispers spread through the room. Even the neighbors heard
the commotion and craned their necks to see.
“I didn’t
know your wife had twins, Mussef.”
“Who is
that girl?! She looks just like your Kashmira!”
“Coincidence?”
“The
daughter of a long-lost cousin of your wife? But it can’t be. You don’t have
other relatives here, do you?”
Kashmira
turned and ran.
About the Author
Tiffany writes science fiction to explore the ways technology shapes our view of ourselves. Born and raised in Houston, Texas, she bumped shoulders with diverse folks from all walks of life who inspire her characters. She incorporates her experience working in the aerospace and tech industry into her storytelling. She is now based in Austin, Texas.
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2 Comments
Sci-fi is my favorite genre and Glitched sounds like an awesome read. Thank you for sharing the author's bio and book details
ReplyDeleteGlitched sounds like an awesome read and I like the cover, thanks for sharing it with me and have a sunshiny day!
ReplyDeletePlease try not to spam posts with the same comments over and over again. Authors like seeing thoughtful comments about their books, not the same old, "I like the cover" or "sounds good" comments. While that is nice, putting some real thought and effort in is appreciated. Thank you.