Within a shadow-laden living room, images flickered on a black crystal holoscreen – the sole light in the tenebrous apartment. Voices wobbled intermittently from the device, while a fly buzzed noisily, dancing about a side table before perching on a plate of long-rancid food. Its presence, obscure, in the haphazard chaos of the living quarters.
The master of the house sat broodingly in an armchair, his features shrouded and unknowable.
Curls of smoke ribboned hauntingly from the cigarette held loosely between his long-fingered hands. He drew breath at calculated intervals, the ember flaring in the gloom. His other hand tapped a dull rhythm against the armrest, his intense gaze locked on the screen.
When the interference ceased, the night news presenter apologized for the interlude. "Professor, thank you for joining us again this evening. It's a pleasure to have you here."
The angle switched to that night's guest: a man in a razor-sharp purple suit, with dark earth-toned skin and a smile as polished as the OmniSoft logo on his lapel. Professor Akore, Head of Research and Development, offered a practiced smile. "The pleasure is all mine."
The master's tapping grew deeper.
The presenter leaned forward. "Your company has a legendary background. Starting as a minor player in aerospace, you made an unexpected foray into virtual reality and have dominated the industry for the past decade."
The studio audience cheered, their blood surging as they remembered OmniSoft's groundbreaking works—from humble beginnings like Tiger Trap, 3176, Nine Hearts , and Ulysses to the colossal End of Orisha. The company's state-of-the-art tech had captured their hearts, minds, and, unfortunately for the poorer fans, their wallets.
Akore clasped his hands and chuckled, offering kind thanks to the audience and viewers.
The master blew out a slow, thoughtful puff of smoke as he watched.
"But the gaming world is anxious, Professor. Since OmniSoft announced its Magnum Opus, Patternfall, its release is now a month overdue. And the rumors are not so… benign." The host's voice dropped to a venture. "There are whispers from your own R&D division. Of disruptions. Of unexpected… behaviors in the final build. Some are even using alarming words like 'haunted.' Can you tell our audience what's been going on? What is the reason for the stall?"
The professor gave a small, political smile. "I just, first of all, want to thank all the fans for their enduring support." His suave opening drew another wave of cheers.
A sneer, pulled at the master's lips.
"But I'm afraid the complexities of Patternfall are… unprecedented. Even for us. We will not release our best work until it is perfect." He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to settle. The host's smile tightened at the edges.
"And regarding the unsubstantiated rumors from our former employees," Akore's gaze softened with pity, "we apologize. I would also advise the audience to treat such dramatic language with skepticism. What we are creating is something the world has never seen. The rumors are a natural byproduct of that ignorance."
The guest's words were a wall of polished steel, flawless and impenetrable.
The presenter had to recalibrate his tactics.
He cleared his throat humorously. "All this secrecy for a game..."
Prof. Akore gave a slow, deliberate blink but did not bite. "We hope Patternfall can become more than a game. Perhaps, even a new world. Such ideals… require more time to realize than others." He nodded firmly. "We appreciate the world's patience as we complete this final, delicate integration." He reiterated.
Then his posture stiffened defensively—a shift so subtle only the astute host and the watching master could have caught it.
The host sighed inwardly and gave a signal.
As closing music swelled and the studio lights dimmed, he stood and shook the professor's hand politely. "Thank you for enlightening us."
"I appreciate the opportunity to," The professor nodded, his smile still firmly in place.
Perhaps the audience was oblivious as to the dynamics of this interview, but the master was not. He knew the silence from OmniSoft was not the silence of polish, but of quarantine. Something had happened in their digital labs, something they could not control, something they wanted buried. OmniSoft at this moment seemed like a slumbering, defeated beast. But the master had the feeling that should this beast awaken, the world would...
"Change," the master said finally.
His finger tapped once more against the cigarette butt, and the remaining stick unraveled into ash.
A/N:
Hello there, and welcome!
I'm so glad you've decided to join me on this adventure. I'm having an absolute blast writing this story, and I hope that joy finds its way to you as a reader.
Your thoughts are invaluable. If you have constructive criticism or brilliant suggestions, please do share them. While I can't promise instant miracles, I'm always working to make the story better, and your ideas are a huge part of that.
Thanks for reading! 😉