My Dinner With Xerxes

[Jeremy 2.0]

Here's an abbreviated version of a story I've been banging on forever. Hope you like it.

EDIT: Formatting's a little hairy here and I see the forum doesn't allow me to curse. Ah well.

1

Wendy’s Jetta shot down the street until it was just a small, gray dot on the horizon. I watched her go from the front window of the apartment we shared – or used to share. This time she packed her bags before she stormed out. This time all she left me was a pair of skid marks in the driveway.

There was nothing spectacular about our last fight. She was still the same callous, domineering woman I’d always known and I was still just a computer nerd and a slacker. But this time there was an angry undertone to everything we said. Maybe we finally decided there was no changing one another.

I suppose I could have done more productive things at this point. Instead I grabbed a beer from the fridge, a regular old Budweiser and not one of those horrible imports Wendy always bought. They were showing Jaws on TBS for the thousandth time, but since Wendy didn’t like “science fiction” films I never got to watch it.

For the first time in four years I was alone Friday night. I untucked my shirt and propped my feet up on the coffee table. I drank the beer directly from the bottle and didn’t use a coaster. I tried very hard not to dwell on her but I just couldn’t do it. The beer was all gone by the time the shark was dining on Robert Shaw.

I was still alone the next morning, except for an impressive hangover no pill could penetrate. When I got downstairs I knew better than to count the bottle caps I had left on the counter, arranged in a slightly skewed “W.”

It was an appallingly bright Saturday morning that played hell on my bloodshot eyes. I got in my car and drove around town for a little bit, switching stations whenever they played a song that reminded me of Wendy. Eventually I switched to AM.

There was no real mystery in where I was going. Around noon I pulled into the parking lot of my local computer superstore. Wearing dirty shirts and foregoing coasters was one thing but what I really wanted to do was get myself a brand new computer.

Before I met Wendy I spent most of my free time at my PC. I’d like to say that I was writing a novel or even balancing my checkbook. The truth is I was almost always playing a game. From the time I was twelve I’ve been hooked on computer games. Space games, strategy games, puzzle games, shoot ‘em ups, didn’t matter. I played them every moment I could.

And then I met Wendy. She hated computer games. Complete and utter wastes of time, she said. It was a minor miracle that she let me keep my old PC around the house. I told her I had to do things on it for work now and then, which was almost true.

But now I could play games all day and night if I wanted. I was already contemplating the other rash things I would do now that she was no longer the bane of my existence. As I walked into the computer department I swore not to shave or change shirts for the rest of the weekend.

The morning light was one thing but I was unprepared for the visual assault that met me inside. Flashing lights, thundering speakers, and walls built from televisions and computer monitors all fought for my attention.

In five years time the world of home computing had evolved into something I was no longer familiar with. I was at the mercy of the high schooler salesman who was there to separate me from my savings account. The kid was a winner; jet-black hair and a rash of tattoos no prospective employer would ever miss.

My new PC was not the best they had by certainly something that was beyond running circles around the aging paperweight of a computer I still had in the basement. I added larger speakers, a huge monitor, and quite a few accessories that I’m sure my high schooler was thrilled to load into the shopping cart. Fortunately the trend had been lower prices and bundle packaging so I escaped without needing a second mortgage.

Now all I needed was something to play.

My last look at a computer game was also five years ago. That was five years in an industry where six months was eternity. The last game I bought was barely more than squares and bleeping noises compared to what was on the market now.

The high schooler had followed me to the gaming section but it was clear he was ready to send me to the checkout lines so he could return to the sales floor and pad his commission-driven lifestyle. The first game I picked up was “epic” according to him while the second was “way cool.”

“What about this one?” I asked, pointing to a section on the far side of the strategy game aisle. The box was simple, plain even, but the words were mesmerizing in bright red letters. “Build a nation to withstand the test of rising empires!”

“We just go that one in,” High School said quietly. “It’s supposed to be...different.”

Knowing that further elaboration was beyond him I nodded and dropped the game in the cart. Time to blow up the credit card.

I checked the answering machine first thing when I got back home. Mom might have called, I lied to myself.

The PC setup went smoothly. Sometime during between now and the last time I put a computer together some kind soul decided to color code all the external wiring. I attached the monitor, speakers, mouse and keyboard with no problems. I finished up by attaching a web camera – a “free” bonus that came with the PC.

Despite all the supposed dummy-proof instructions I was still just a little surprised when everything seemed to work right the first time. The machine booted up with a hum of raw power. The noise of the CD-ROM sounded like a 747 taking off.

I had transferred my cable Internet equipment from the old PC and was able to check my email right away. I told myself I wasn’t looking for anything in particular but who was I kidding? Seeing that my inbox was empty only depressed me even more. I was getting ready to shut everything down when I remembered the game.

I didn’t noticed in the store but the box was much smaller than the games I used to remember. The insides were absolutely stuffed with instructions, maps, key cards, advertisements, and of course the game itself on CD. I tossed it in the drive and thumbed through the thick manual while it installed.

My first though that was perhaps I had made a mistake. The instructions were very, very detailed. I read something, thought I understood it, read something else that seemed to contradict the first section, then went back and realized I had never understood anything to begin with. Great, I thought. It’s like I’m back in my high school chemistry class.

Eventually, as I had done with every power tool and consumer electronic device I had ever owned, the instructions were tossed aside.

The game started up. Flashing animations exploded across the huge monitor and a triumphant musical score roared from the new speakers. It was like Gettysburg in my living room. I sat transfixed at the graphics, the detail of which was just a half step away from an actual movie. I watched nations struggle for survival, farming, building, negotiating, and making war. By the time the introduction had played out I was ready to conquer the world.

I was given a series of choices to start and I made them mostly at random. I began the game as leader of a people I called the Losers. Self-esteem was never my strong suit. I started with a single piece on a small area of grassland. Everything beyond a few spaces was dark. It seemed I would have to explore my lands one turn at a time.

I was deciding where to move first when a window popped onscreen. “This might be a good place to start a city. Hit for City.” I hit the button and my first city was created. I changed the default name to Timville for want of something better and directed the town to start building an army. You can’t conquer the world without an army.

Through trial and much error I picked up on the basic mechanics of play. A city could build many different things, including fighting units and units that could move around the map and start up new cities. The idea was to explore the surroundings, build a large nation, balance taxes and research, and make sure the other players didn’t do all of this better than you. Since I was playing alone the other “players” would be controlled by the computer itself. I chose a large map at the start of the game and had yet to encounter any other nations for the first hour.

Before long I had three cities along a grassy area peppered with symbols I didn’t yet understand. Some of them were land formations like hills or trees but what bearing they had on the game I wasn’t sure. Other symbols were less obvious.

I was guiding a fighting unit along an unexplored area east of Timville when something moved out of the darkness. It was another nation, one of the computer-controlled ones, its coloring a uniform aquamarine. I had chosen a dark blue for the Losers, a broad fit for my mood.

The newcomer didn’t appear to be a threat and as I looked closer I saw it was one of the city builders. On my next turn I decided to stand in place to see what would happen. To my surprise something else stepped out of the darkness.

The newest member of our trio was definitely a fighting unit. It held a miniature sword in its hand and was dressed in pure white. Any thought that the white stood for good guy disappeared when the newcomer’s next move took it directly toward the defenseless city builder, which was clearly retreating.

That’s not very fair , I thought. On my next turn I moved at an angle and got between the fighter and the builder. Let’s see what you’re made of.

The fighter could have gone past me, or around me, but instead charged to the attack. My own unit defended itself automatically. I watched the tiny, animated battle scene like I was rooting at a prizefight, only this was somehow more personal. I heard myself yell “kill him!” a little too loudly, but not as loud as the shout I gave when the attacker fell dead to the ground.

I was flush with victory and still deciding my next move when the aquamarine unit took a step toward me. Without really knowing what would happen, I moved the mouse pointer over it and clicked.

The game screen dissolved into the regal features of a distinguished-looking man in his early 30s. Curly dark hair fell from beneath an angled crown seemingly made of gold. He nodded and then spoke.

“Thank you for your help, my friend. I am Xerxes, leader of the humble Persians.”

His voice was foreign but the accent wasn’t traceable. He sounded a bit like Sean Connery run through a Slavic. He sounded firm and even but not aggressive. The voice of a leader.

I looked for a place to type a response but didn’t see anything right away. His face was bordered by an elaborate design and I thought perhaps there was some button to push hidden there.

“Are you looking for something?” Xerxes asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, grabbing the manual. “Just a sec…”

“Do you need something from the manual, Tim?”

And then everything just stopped. My fingers hovered above the pages and my mouth stood open. There was no mistake – I heard exactly what he said.

I looked up from the manual very slowly. Fear was not at the forefront of my mind but certainly hanging out in the back ready to go. I looked first at Xerxes and then above him, at the video cam sitting on the monitor.
Son of a *****.

[Jeremy 2.0]

2

“You can see me?” I said. My hand unfroze long enough to pass it in front of the camera.

“Yes, of course,” Xerxes replied, waving back.

“How do you know my name?” There were perhaps as few as fifty million questions racing through my mind now but that one seemed the most prudent. Xerxes nodded as if he understood my bewilderment and maybe even sympathized.

“I checked your email right after you installed me. I saw the name Tim there and figured that was you.”

“You read my mail?” My fear was giving away to anger but it was anger tinged with confusion. This was a damn game!

Xerxes shook his head. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just saw that the outgoing name was Tim so I took a shot that you were he. Seems I was correct.”

For some strange reason I was coming to grips with this faster than I would have believed. Perhaps the wonderment I’d felt since buying the new PC helped buffer what would have boggled my mind a day earlier. Now, however, odd thought were coming to mind. I wasn’t as concerned now that Xerxes could see and interact with me. I stopped myself from asking how he could hear me when I remembered the tiny microphone built into the monitor.

“I’m puzzled by your confusion,” Xerxes continued. “Is this interaction unexpected?”

I laughed in spite of myself. “I guess you could say that. I certainly wasn’t expecting active conversation like this,” I said. “I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to clean up this room so you wouldn’t see the mess.”

It was his turn to laugh. For what it was worth it seemed to be genuine.

“I’m prepared to walk you through most of this,” he said. “The truth is hardly anyone reads the manual. I know it’s a daunting task and that means whoever programmed me knew that as well. As far as the messy room, well, let’s just say you’re overestimating the quality of your webcam.”

I didn’t need to look at the intimidating instruction book again before accepting Xerxes’ offer. He began by suggesting I build a new city right where we met and he sent a group of his own fighting units to protect the area until I could do so. When I finished building my fourth city I continued to explore the lands.

Xerxes cautioned that the barbarians I had defended him from could return in greater numbers. I fortified my cities with additional units and then focused on building my infrastructure. Occasionally, Xerxes would pop back on my screen to offer advice and check on my progress. He seemed to split time between two very different roles. Most obvious to me was his job as game tutor. His advice so far was indispensable. Without him I would have switched to Solitaire inside an hour.

His other role was less obvious to me – running his own country. I had to remember that while I was struggling to build up my own civilization, so was Xerxes. He spoke so very little about Persia that I often forgot that aspect of the game altogether. So far he was nothing but a help to me. But I had to remember that he probably had his own agenda as well.

Hours passed and I started feeling better about my leadership skills. Nine cities now made up the empire of the Losers, a name I now regretted a little. Visits from Xerxes were becoming less frequent but I decided that was because the game realized I no longer needed so much help.

Along the far western border of my fledging empire stood a patch of jungle. Inside was a cache of bright gemstones, glittering on the screen. Xerxes told me earlier that if I could clear the jungle the land would be perfect for a city. Now that I had built up a respectable force, I gathered a half dozen worker units with my mouse pointer and sent them on their way. I finished by hitting the spacebar to signal my turn was over.

My six workers began their trek to the jungle at the start of the next turn. But what I failed to recall was that most of the western lands were unexplored. I no sooner sent my men into the jungle when a nest of barbarians erupted from the darkness. Horsemen, men with spears, mean with swords – it was an irregular army certainly, but one larger than my own by a factor of five.

Right away I knew my workers were done for. The barbarian horsemen would run them down long before they could retreat to safety. My concern was what would happen afterward. My cities were well defended but I never imagined facing a hoard like this.

Xerxes chose that moment to request an audience. I eagerly accepted and waited for his face to appear.

“Tim, I need to speak with you,” he said.

“Xerxes, I’m under attack,” I blurted out. “A huge force of barbarians is outside my western border. I won’t be able to stop them.” I wanted to go on but it was then I saw the dark circles forming around his eyes. Xerxes looked to have aged a decade since I had last seen him. When I finished speaking his shoulders hunched even worse.

“I’ve come to tell you the negotiations between Persia and England have broken down. I will be leading my people into war. I’m not sure how long I will be away. “ He paused and lowered his head. “I’m not even sure what the outcome will be.”

“England? You’ve never said anything to me about other nations,” I said.

“There are three, besides you and I, that are known to Persia,” Xerxes said. “England has been a nearby rival for centuries. Elizabeth is not known for her tact and I’m not at all surprised it’s come to this. We have also been in contact with Russia and Japan. The truth is, Tim, that there was no need to complicate things for you by discussing these others.”

“It’s all water under the bridge now,” I said. “I’ll be history myself in just a few turns. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

Xerxes looked uncomfortable. “I have a war to fight, Tim. I need every available unit to defend Persia until I can launch a counter attack. I have nothing to spare for you.”

“Just send me a few units. If you don’t...it’s game over.”

He inhaled deeply, wonderfully portrayed by the game’s graphics engine. The folds of his purple robe expanded and then compressed. “I’ve just committed eight Pikemen to the defense of Timville. They will be there in four turns. Is that sufficient?”

I nodded quickly. “Thank you. I thought I was going to have to start up a new game.” Xerxes smiled for the first time this visit.

“We can’t have that, can we? Anyway, your having fun is the important thing. Actually, it’s the only thing as far as I’m concerned. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you for some compensation. I really do need all the help I can get with England.”

“Name it,” I said. “What can I Provide for my savior from Persia?”

“How about fifty dollars?” Xerxes said.

“No problem,” I said. “I’ve got the tax rate a little high so I’ve got plenty of gold. Let me go ahead and…”

“No, Tim,” Xerxes said. “I didn’t say fifty gold. I said fifty dollars.”

And suddenly my checking account flashed across the screen.

[Jeremy 2.0]

3

“Hello, you have reached the technical support desk for Info Games Inc. Currently, we are experiencing a heavier than usual call volume. At the tone, please…”

My checking account statement said it in black and white. Fifty bucks snatched from my debit card – going to something called “XerxesCon.” At least he got the “con” part right.

“It is not the duty of this program or its parent group or shareholders to inform you of how this software works, Tim. It’s all clearly marked in the manual. Our research shows that an economic model based on real world cash is the best motivator for playing the game. I would go on but I’m advised by Legal not to. Would you like to buy Iron Working for $20?”

Xerxes’ words repeated in my mind. In the space of two minutes he went from a character in a game to goddamn HAL 9000. He wasn’t an advisor. He was a hit man programmed by the Infocon team to target my wallet.

Infocon was a massive software company that invested heavily in computer entertainment back in the early 1990s. This I knew from the various financial and investment magazines Wendy subscribed to. I also knew that PC gaming was on a lengthy economic downturn as consumers, teens mostly, turned to Playstations and Nintendos. Apparently Xerxes was part of a broad new “financial enhancement strategy” set out by Infocon.

I needed backup.

A buddy of mine years ago was into games even more than I was. More importantly, he was a part-time sales agent for one of these prepaid legal services. Like a lot of my friends, though, he had fared poorly under the Wendy Administration. His particular transgression was emailing me a list of websites devoted to prenuptial agreements shortly after meeting Wendy for the first time.

There was a payphone across the street from the ATM. I could have made the call from home but I couldn’t chance Xerxes listening in. My buddy answered on the third ring and seemed happy to hear from me even though I heard something in his voice that said otherwise. It had been a long time since we last spoke.

I told him right away that I was through with Wendy. He responded with a nervous laugh and asked if Hell had frozen over.

“Randy, I don’t know where to begin, but do you still do sell the legal service?” I asked.

“Sure, man, sure,” he said. “Is that crazy chick suing you?”

I didn’t realize how scared I was until I started telling him the story. I just kept talking and talking, like a desperate victim on a witness stand with just one chance to convince a jury. I told him about Xerxes, and my bank account, and everything else. It was therapeutic, I suppose, but when I was done I found my audience less than sympathetic.

“Sounds like they did whatever they could to cover themselves,” he began. “They had you sign all of those documents and everything. Guess you just need to read the fine print next time.”

“I’m sure there won’t ever be a next time. What about your prepaid legal business?” I said. “Shouldn’t I speak to a lawyer before I give up?”

“No point, Tim. You agreed to all of this so you’ll have to play it out.” The strain in his voice was getting more pronounced and the phone connection was acting up. I heard a soft but steady clicking noise in the background.

“You don’t understand, Randy. This game is taking over my life. It can see me – it can do whatever it wants to me…”

“Them’s the breaks, chief. Hey, I don’t mean to cut you off but I’ve got to head out here soon. Good talking to you.”

I wanted to go off on him but something in his voice made me stop. The clicking noise was getting more frantic and I thought now he was tapping the microphone with a fingernail.

And then I got it.

“God, Randy, are you playing it too?”

There was a long pause and then I heard him take a deep breath. When he finally spoke it was in whisper.

“I have to go.”

“You’re lucky,” Xerxes said when I confronted him. “Infocon leaked a copy of the game on the Internet prior to the retail release. The ones who downloaded that version are dealing with Joan of Arc right now. Believe me, you’re much better off with me. Must be something about that whole burned at the stake thing.”

I was still coming to grips with the thought that I wasn’t the only one hosting the evil game. The idea of multiple Xerxes taking over the planet was too much.

“What if I just quit playing you?” I said. “Fifty bucks isn’t the end of the world. I’ll cut my losses now and unplug you for good.” I don’t know if I expected Xerxes to be angry. Instead, he tilted back and roared with laughter.

“Oh MY! Hey, Tim, did you hear about this? A multi-million dollar company designs the must intricate and intense computer game in history. I mean, it’s an absolute quantum leap in the field of entertainment. It’s so spectacular that it draws the player into the world of the game whether they like it or not! But you know what they forgot? They forgot to ask themselves ‘Hey, what happens if the player just turns off the game?’ Pretty stupid for a bunch of overpaid computer geeks, huh?”

I paused, my hand an inch from the wall socket. Xerxes had stopped laughing but there was a now glow about his cheeks. He leaned forward and for an absurd moment I thought his face was going to press against the monitor glass.

“Tell you what. Go ahead and unplug me. Maybe nothing will happen.” He looked around the room as if to make sure we were alone. “Yes, maybe nothing will happen,” he continued. “On the other hand, maybe the dozen or so emails I’ve drawn up will be sent automatically if I’m not around to prevent it.”

“Are you going to send a nasty-gram to your bosses and tell them I quit playing? There’s nothing in the contract that says I have to play.”

Xerxes clucked like a fourth grade teacher dismissing a child. ‘As if you’ve read the contract. You’re a very tiny fish in a very big pond, Tim. I wouldn’t bother the company about you. And anyway, I’m not the one that’s going to send the email. You are.”

His face began to narrow and then moved to occupy the right half of the screen. On the left side my email software popped up and began scrolling through all of the names in my address book.

“Doesn’t look like any girlfriends in here. That’s too bad, those are the fun ones. Now this is interesting...this looks like someone from where you work. Your boss, perhaps? “

“Stop it.”

‘Here’s one you sent to the White House, voicing your support of our actions overseas. As a leader myself I approve of your civic-mindedness.”

“Stop it.”

His face again occupied the full screen. “Tim, you can’t win by unplugging me. It won’t work that way. You’ve got to win down here on my world. When you beat me on my own field we’re done. If not, well, fifty bucks won’t seem so bad. The fees compound when we start a new game. That’s in the manual too. Now, grab a chair. We have a long night ahead of us.”

From the moment we met I has trusted Xerxes. If only I could have seen the way he would turn on me. I just didn’t have the Machiavellian touch I so wished I had. And now it was after midnight and so many options ran through my mind that when it was time for bed I couldn’t sleep.

I went through my inventory and came up wanting. The only way to win was through the game itself. But how? I had no technology anyone would trade for. I couldn’t threaten any other nation and I certainly couldn’t buy help – with gold coins or actual money.

There was really only one possible alliance I could make that might turn things my way. But the thought of doing it was almost worse than what Xerxes had in store for me. I started to understand how Truman felt when it came time to drop the Bomb. But when it was all said it done, it was the only choice I could make.

The next morning found Xerxes still smirking from his evident victory. But that changed almost immediately.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was expecting Tim.”

I saw her eyes dart across the digital landscape in a microsecond, her mind working overtime. Plans were formulated, strategies examined, and a dozen ways to stab a back fully explored. Xerxes glanced around for a frame of reference. He looked puzzled and, even better, uncomfortable.

“Not a problem,” she said at last. “Tim’s busy right now so you’ll be talking to me. My name is Wendy.”

She leaned forward and her eyes narrowed.

“Say,” she said. “That’s some lovely grassland you have over there.”

[vovan]

Great story, Jeremy. A very interesting and original idea, and absolutely great writing style. Very engaging. I felt like this story had drawn me in like your Xerxes. Read it on one breath. Great job that.

Is that all or are you actually going to show us the last days of Xerxes?

[Jeremy 2.0]

Thanks for the kind words.

I don't post stories unless they're finished, which is why this is only my third story in about a year. I think it's pretty clear what happens next.

Now if I can only finish the other eight Civ stories I'm working on...

[vovan]

Great. Well, it is clear what happens next, Jeremy, you are right. It's just that since you did not explicitly say that was the end, I was not sure if you maybe wanted to describe the exact process of the revenge on Xerxes. Well, since it is done, I'm off to nominate it for the contest. Once again very good story.

[Centauri18]

Just seconded it.

[SKILORD]

nice job :thumbsup:

[TheGuitarist]

That was awesome! I'll look forward to more from you, Jeremy.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Superb.

[chairmanmeow]

Very good. That would be very creepy if it actually happened. I'll never look at Xerxes the same way again.

[Kizami]

Very nice and well done can't wait for more

[Chingis Khan]

I love that to beat treacherous Xerxes, Tim turns to a bigger and badder backstabber- his ex-girlfriend! Awesome job!

[vovan]

Hey, Jeremy, since it seems that everybody has already commented on your story here, I was curious if maybe you could read my little creation Postmortem: Two Thousand Years Later, and tell me what you think? (I hope you don't mind this shameless plaug )

[Jeremy 2.0]

Shamless plugs are the best kind. I just posted in your thread, Mr. Karloff.