Harry Potter and the Cyberpunk Nightmare

Chapter Two. Chiba City Rock and Roll.

The sky above the port was the color of television tuned to a dead channel... -Neuromancer.

Harry looked out the window. The sky was grey; he could not make anything out through the fog, though he was unsure if this was fog at all. He looked around.

He was in a room that was evidently within a residential building, as this was an apartment re-furnished into a hospital ward. The beds looked quite old, yet sturdy, the blankets on them while not pearly-white, still sufficiently clean-looking to have faith in the people that ran the place.

There was some strange machinery whose use Harry could not determine, it looked like something out of a science fiction movie - sleek, hi-tech and definitely advanced. The walls were a dull grayish green colour, the paint chipped off at several places, revealing the metallic paneling underneath.

Harry shuddered at the thought of where he was and turned to the thought of what he was. There was a mirror hanging on the wall, not the cleanest one in the world, but, compared to the rest of the room, it could even be considered to be chic. Out of the mirror looked the face Harry saw so many times whenever he looked in the mirror before, but four things were out of the ordinary - he had no scar on his forehead, he had no glasses (though he did not feel any need for them), he looked a lot more thin and gaunt than before and, most strange, he had a metallic plug, like for plugging a cord in, on the back of his head. This was definitely not good.

*****

"I see you have awoken, Mr. Potter," came a voice. It was the same male voice Harry heard before, when he was half-dreaming, half-awake.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, turning around. The man turned out to be quite tall, dark-skinned ("Deep tan," Harry thought automatically) and wearing a black suit.

"My name," the man said, "is Jake Armitage, and I am the person responsible for you being here."

"Where is this by the way?"

"Chiba City, but that should tell you nothing."

"You're right. It doesn't. Alright, when is this then?"

"An appropriate question, Mr. Potter. While you might think that it's the year 1997, it is closer to the year 2097, though I'm afraid I can't be more specific."

"Afraid it will make me go mad?" Harry asked, his voice full of cruel irony.

"No, I don't quite know it myself. You see, my wall calendar was stolen and my computer keeps glitching so it won't even show the time of the day," even though Harry's face was one of sarcasm, Armitage's face was one of genuine regret.

"Alright. What am I doing here?"

"It's a long story, so I suggest that you sit down..."

*****

"You see, the Maas-Neotek started this experiment some thirty or so years ago, an experiment based on the virtual reality built within the matrix."

"The what?" Harry asked.

"The matrix - in your world the closest comparison would be the Internet," Armitage explained.

"I see," said Harry, though he actually didn't.

"The experiment was started to study wizards. Volunteers entered the virtuality of the matrix to live in a copy of the world as it was in the 1860s, both wizards and non-wizards."

"Muggles," Harry corrected automatically.

"See? A completely new culture was born. The world was shaped after the records found in the ruins of the modern wizard world."

"Ruins?" Harry almost jumped up from his seat.

"Yes, Harry. The wizards of this world, this reality, died out as a separate culture about fifty years ago. The experiment was started to see what caused this, so most people with and some without the wizard gene were put into this virtual world. The first two generations of testers were living in the accelerated version of temporal simulation - that means the experiment on their behalf lasted for a year only, but they lived full lives within the construct."

"Construct?" Harry was slowly processing all the incoming information, so far this was the only word that raised questions.

"Any virtual reality within the matrix is a construct, as it's a program that constructs that world, creates and controls its rules and users. After the first two generations the flow of time was slowed down, since the side-effect proved to be insanity unless the person was hastily reinserted into the matrix, as it was quite hard to live as a thirty-year old when you lived a hundred-year long life, so the children (artificially born of course) of the first participants were born straight into the matrix. Then problems came. Not all of the new offspring were magical, not all of the offspring of the Muggle (as you call them) participants were Muggle. That was quite a surprise, since outside the matrix children with magical genes born into entirely non-magical families are quite rare. But the offspring of 'mixed' parents were magical virtually always.

When all the real-world participants got out, the speed of time flow within the matrix was reduced only to three times faster than the real time. The children born into the matrix had their own children, the systems monitoring them added respective hormones to have those children physically, in reality that is, correspond to the way they were in the matrix. Whenever someone of them is jacked out, he or she resumes normal development speed and, when reinserted, keeps it that way. Then another problem presented itself - Grindelwald."

"World War II, I suppose. But Albus Dumbledore..." Harry started.

"Was a second-group moderator - a human that oversees the rules being followed," Armitage finished for him, "One interesting thing - in this reality, there was only one World War, and it ended four years ago. Now what did I say about a completely new culture? Even history did not stand a chance," Armitage paused to take a breath in and went on, "The next big problem that struck this virtual wizard zoo, as it was dubbed among those outside, was Voldemort. No-one escaped his wrath... No-one but you."

"But how did I survive then?" Harry looked baffled. No-one seemed to know how and why did he survive Voldemort, both in the unreality in which he was born and raised and in reality as well.

"Obviously, a glitch in the matrix. The same glitch made you a hero in your world as you survived through several more deadly situations, including meeting Voldemort again."

"How did he return then?"

"The first time - as a back-rider, when he was removed from the game (as you don't really die when Avada Kedavra hits you - you are just disconnected, but this rule only applies to outsiders, I mean those who are not hardwired to the system, like you were once we transported you here), he connected via Quirrell's terminal. When you disconnected both (thanks to yet another glitch), he had hacked his way trough, using Wormtail as an inside man, and reconnected via Bertha Jorkins' terminal, after killing her in this world. He was so keen on being in there that he did not stop before real murder, Harry. Then he used the 'ritual' you saw as a cover for the debug program to get himself a fully-functional body."

"And how exactly did you get me out?"

"We changed your connection when you were asleep, since to keep the server running without overflow the machine stops controlling feedback to and from your brain at such points, and we could wire you up to a mobile unit, tuned to send the signal into the same server."

"Then I'm not in... In there, am I?"

"Not exactly. We made an exact copy of you as you were before we disconnected you. The you in the virtual world is still you, he acts like you, and he does what you might've done. Before we re-insert you his new memories will be added to your brain, so you could act accordingly. When you jack out, he'll become the Harry Potter that never left the matrix again. The same goes for your friend."

"Hermione? She's here?"

"Yes. Still unconscious, but alive. We expect her to awake any moment now."

"Alright, you've told me how this works; now I want to know two more things. Why did you get me out and why did you get me out?"

"We took you out since we needed to have an inside man of our own in this virtual world. We took you because we chose several possible people, according to their psychological portraits, and you were the first to notice the glitches caused by the radio-transmitting of data..."

"...Since some data is lost due to interference?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Exactly. This, and the glitch that kept saving your life, were not the last factors that made us choose you."

"And Hermione?"

"We had to pull her out as well, since she was near you when you went out of phase due to the glitch... Her nerve system did not seem to like it very much."

"Is it serious?" Harry's look was one of deep concern.

"Not really," Armitage glanced at his watch, "Any other questions?"

"Why do you need an inside man in there?"

"We need someone to keep Voldemort down until we can get to him in the real world, and that requires to 'bug' him in the virtual one."

"That means you want me to work as a mercenary, as I suppose you are working without that Maas-Neotek's agreement, right?"

"Exactly, Harry."

"I see... The time acceleration you spoke of... This means my parents are alive?"

"Well, no. I told you, Avada Kedavra disconnects only those who are illegally present in that particular system, to everyone else it works as 'black' ICE - 'brain burns' or, in other words, a mental disruption. The mind dies and the body in this world cannot live without the mind... You'll be taught on that one later. Sorry," Armitage explained.

Harry suppressed the tear that was forcing its way out of his eye.

"Alright. Can I see Hermione?"

"May I suggest getting some clothes first?"

Only now Harry had noticed that he was wearing only a pair of pajama trousers.

"What can you offer?" he asked...

*****

He was now wearing a plain black t-shirt and also plain black jeans. As footwear he got a pair of grey sneakers and a pair of dark grey socks. She was on a hospital bed in another room, furnished in exactly the same way as his, though, the only thing she was wearing being the blanket that was covering her. He could not help looking over the curves of her body, though he was constantly telling himself that it was not the time for this, and noticed that there was quite a lot she was hiding under her school robes. He sat down on the chair that stood beside her bed.

He watched her as she breathed in her sleep, almost like in an enchanted one, like in the fairy-tales, and had a deep inner urge to kiss her awake, exactly like in fairy-tales.

Except that now Harry doubted even the fairy-tales.

"Hello there..." he whispered, gently brushing her hair out of her face.

"She's asleep for three days straight, sure hope everything's okay with her," he heard a woman say behind him. Yet another familiar voice.

"And you are..." said Harry.

"Angelica McTaggert," the woman said. She had long blond hair and grey eyes that definitely reminded Harry of someone.

"Does the name Malfoy tell you anything, Miss McTaggert?" he asked.

"Yes, that was my last name in the matrix construct you came from, why do you ask?"

"Well, I've met your grandson then. Or grand-grandson. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy."

"Grandson then. How was he?" she asked, an amused look in her eyes.

"Alive and well, but secretly wishing to kill me off. We're worst enemies, you know. Different points of view upon relationships between pure-blood and not-quite-pure-blood wizards," Harry tried to give his face a serious expression, but failed miserably.

"Interesting why. I am half-and-half," she said with a grin.

"Definitely like him, the voice is very much alike," Harry thought, "yet very kind-hearted."

Hermione stirred in her sleep, so Harry turned towards her.

"What's between you and that girl?" Angelica asked. Harry sighed.

"Well, we got 'jacked out' as Armitage says, when I told her that I love her, so..." he waved his hands apart as if signifying that there was nothing more to be said.

"Yes, strange are the ways of God, indeed," she said, "Here I am, nursing the girlfriend of my grandson's worst enemy, as he himself states, back to health."

"Well, I sure hope you won't be angry at me for hating your grandson as he is an insufferable racist," said Harry determinedly.

"I did not say that I liked him. Lucius was quite bad as well in his childhood, you know," she said before leaving, "And I doubt that it changed when he grew up."

*****

She woke up two hours later, her face being one of surprise.

"Harry? Where am I? What is this?" she kept asking.

"Relax. This is a hospital. You're safe, at least for now. Lie down and I'll tell you what's going on," he said calmly, "Alright?"

She nodded in confirmation and reached out to kiss him, but as she brushed his hair off of his forehead her face changed.

"Where'd your scar go, Harry? And why aren't you wearing glasses?"

"It's a long story. It all started like this..."

*****

He told her all that he found out from Armitage, including the reason why he needed someone as an insider in the matrix.

"So, what do you think we should do?" she asked of him when he finished.

"I have no idea," said Harry determinedly, "But while we're here it's better to play by the rules."

She did not quite understand what he meant, but the look of confidence on his face made her somehow assured of a happy outcome.

"I will go and tell them you're awake," he said, "Stay here, alright?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she answered, "It's too cold and they didn't give me any clothes."

"I'll be right back," he said as he opened the door.

*****

Armitage was looking at the screen that was in front of him, and typing something on his keyboard.

"I though that kind of input would be obsolete by now."

Harry's voice seemed to catch him by surprise.

"Oh, it's you... How's your friend?"

"Awake. I suppose you'll want a few words with her."

"Exactly."

*****

After he had a talk with Hermione behind closed doors, what made Harry pace back and forth in the hallway; several passers-by congratulating him on being a future father as they thought by his look, Armitage went out and called Angelica in.

"Wait while she gets dressed, okay?" he said. Harry nodded, feeling somewhat nervous.

She appeared several minutes later, accompanied by Angelica. Wearing a rather tight grey top, a pair of green sports pants and a dark green jacket made out of an unidentifiable material, she looked like a simple Muggle girl, looking even younger than she was.

"How do I look?" she asked, grinning nervously.

"Wonderful," he replied, his eyes proving that he really meant it.

"Alright. Where are we going?" Harry asked of Armitage.

"Control Center. I want you to meet the man running the decker part of our operation."

"Decker?" Hermione asked.

"As in a person using a cyberdeck. In your world they are called hackers, as far as I am concerned."

*****

"This is him, Robert Newmark, Count Zero," said Armitage, pointing at a man in his mid-thirties that was sitting near a computer console.

"Harry Potter," said Harry, "Wizard-in-training."

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione, "The same."

"Interesting. So, I suppose you two are already wondering: why you have those nice and beautiful metal plugs in your heads?" Newmark asked.

"Yeah, and that one as well," Hermione stated.

"I'll be leaving you now," said Armitage and hastily retreated, as if leaving them here to meet their doom. The door closed behind him without making a sound.

"I'm the one that's supposed to teach you two how to punch deck," said Newmark, "Or, in other words: how to jack in and out without getting caught, brain-burnt or I.C.E.d."

"Iced? I'm afraid you'll have to teach us the slang as well," said Hermione, taking a chair and sitting down.

"Not iced, but I.C.E.d. I.C.E., or ICE as we call it, is short for Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics. In layman's terms - anti-hacking software."

Harry had already felt that it's going to be a long day... Or night. He was unsure of the time of day as well as of the date.

"Jacking in is fairly simple: plug this cord of your cyberdeck into the datajack in your head, and that one - into the connection port on any computer console. Then you activate the deck. It's actually like playing an arcade game, as far as the games in the constructs I've seen are accurate: you use the keyboard, as you call it, on the deck to type in commands and navigate, the audiovisual output being sent through your datajack straight to the corresponding areas of your brain."

"And jacking out?" Harry asked. He sat down as well.

"Even simpler - whenever you feel like it, you 'pull the plug'. In other words - deactivate the deck. If it's a good one, which usually cost truckloads of money, it allows you to return to the real world without jacking out, you just switch off the transmission of data to your brain. Very convenient if you need to monitor something in reality - a toaster or your security camera screen."

"Alright. What's this ice business then?" Hermione asked.

"I told you, not 'ice' but ICE. There are five types of it actually - blue, green, orange, red and black..."

This, indeed, was becoming a very long night...

**********