It didn’t take long to narrow the group down to five, just those skilful enough to make a difference and desperate enough to try. They all had their own reasons for wanting to pull down the walls of the Grid. For Adlai it was about freedom, forcing the casual user back into being conscious of the possibilities of VR, back to taking responsibility for themselves. He didn’t care what reasons the others claimed, they had a common enemy.

Gretchen was the firebrand of the group, driven and passionate, she tried to take control at every opportunity. She was dangerous, which was exactly what was required. Adlai just had to stand back and watch her work, pushing the others onwards, squeezing every last drop of effort out of them.

And when threats and curses didn’t work, she could turn on the charm to get her way. Adlai knew that first hand. He wasn’t immune, but he was wary. Ever since that first meeting when he’d challenged her, he’d seen the spark in the back of her eyes. She’d use whatever she could to take control of him.

The others weren’t quite so dangerous, but they were just as useful. Madigan, the small greasy man he’d amused so much in the beginning, was a master with machines and materials, shaping and altering the world around him. He was producing their weapons, amazing things really. Adlai had watched them grow from simple blades to the reality altering wonders they were now.

Hound and Strafe, two expert hunters, masters of the war games so many of them still played to amuse themselves. Their job would be to run point, take care of any trouble they’d face forcing their way in. Each of the group had been their victim more than once out on the field. They were the best chance they had.

As for Adlai, he wasn’t sure what he would do once he was in. There had to be a way to take down the Grid from the inside. If anyone could manage it, he supposed it had better be the one programmer responsible for the Boulevard in the first place. That was as far as his plan went.

They really had no idea what they were doing. He could look back at that time now and almost smile. He was used to the guilt. What was that line about wearing it like an old suit? To Adlai it was more like a warm blanket he wrapped around himself, lifted over his head and burrowed into to keep the world out.

Fuck it. Have another drink.

It was hard keeping his mind in order. Alcohol helped cut down the options, helped stop his thoughts spiralling out of control. Like at night, when you close your eyes and relax and try to drift away and the whirlwind of past experience and future worry lifts you out of sleep and tosses you back and forth in your bed.

VR was part of the cure. It helped you switch off, both working on it and being in it. Like sitting in a church. Peaceful. That great emptiness surrounding you, the knowledge that you are a small part of a large whole. The stale air, the wooden pews and green leather kneeling pads. Maybe that’s what he was trying to get back to.

And something more. Something hidden inside the chalice, behind the alter, in a shiny jewelled box that only the priest could open. Something awesome and out of this world. Something to be feared. Fear lived back there.

Fear and faith slept in the same place, wrapped in each other. Maybe to find one you first had to understand the other.