‘Suit yourself.’ Josie spun and walked to the centre of the room, stopping to turn back and spread her arms. ‘This is our research laboratory.’
‘Looks a bit like a storeroom,’ Tark said, unimpressed.
‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Josie snapped back. ‘We’ve converted this run-down Community Youth Centre as best we can. We’re not a big-bucks corporation like the Design Institute. We’re just a bunch a kids doing what we can to stand up for what’s right.’
‘Bit full of yaself, isn’t ya?’
Josie took a deep breath, clenching her hands, then let it out slowly.
‘We are on the same side,’ she finally said. ‘We share a common enemy. The Designers.’
‘I isn’t on no one’s side ’cepts mine and Zyra’s.’
‘This is so much bigger than just the two of you,’ said Josie. ‘Aside from all the Game entities that have gained sentience, but are stuck in the Game … there are the people in this world that the Designers are kidnapping.’
‘Kidnapping?’
‘Yes,’ said Josie, pleased that she had at last gotten Tark’s attention. ‘The Designers have been taking kids.’
‘How? Who?’ asked Tark.
‘Orphans, street kids, runaways, slum-dwellers – people who won’t be missed, except by other people who don’t matter.’ Josie paced up and down. ‘You see, there are different rules for different types of people in the real world – just like in the Game.’
‘So why does the Designers want ta steals kids?’
‘We’re not sure,’ admitted Josie. ‘All we know is that it has something to do with the Game. And that they are never heard from again. We are trying to find out what’s going on. And we’d like your help.’
‘Eh?’ Tark looked bemused. ‘Wots can I dos?’
‘You can go back into the Game,’ said Josie. ‘You can help us to find out what’s going on.’
Tark’s eyes widened. ‘I’ve only just gotten outs.’
‘I know,’ said Josie. ‘I know it’s a big ask. But before you refuse, please hear me out.’
‘Okays. I is listening.’
‘We have a contact in the Design Institute,’ explained Josie. ‘And he, or she, has been slowly feeding us information and supplies. We now have a way into the Game.’ Josie paused to lick her lips. ‘But we can’t use it.’
‘Ah-ha.’ Tark stared at Josie.
‘There is some sort of security program on the Game,’ continued Josie. ‘It won’t let any of us in.’
‘Wot makes ya think it will lets me in?’
‘You’ve just come out of the Game.’ Josie’s voice rose a notch, the hope and excitement evident. ‘You’re from the Game originally. I’m willing to bet that you’ll get in. I think the security program might recognise you and let you through.’
‘And wots does I do once I is in there?’
‘You don’t have to do anything for the moment,’ said Josie. ‘We just need to know that you can get in … and out again. Piece of cake.’
‘Ahhh.’ Tark pointed at Josie. ‘That’s it, ain’t it. Ya isn’t sure I can gets out again, is ya?’
‘Well,’ admitted Josie, avoiding Tark’s eyes. ‘Theoretically, you should be able to get out again. The nanos we’re going to use to put you in are programmed for a time-limited access of ten minutes. So once your time is up, you’ll exit automatically.’
‘Theoretically,’ added Tark.
Josie met his gaze. ‘You are our only option. We took a great risk getting you out of the Design Institute. We lost one of our own during the raid. You –’
‘Ya reckons I owes ya,’ interjected Tark. ‘Well, I owes ya nuthin’.’
Josie’s face fell, hope draining from it.
‘But I’ll thinks on it. Now, can I has sum food? I is starvin’.’ Tark jumped down from the table. The too-short lab coat rode up and he grabbed at it. Tugging it down, he felt it rip at the back. ‘And can I please has sum proper clothes?’
10: Mel
‘So do you think she might be able to tell us what’s happened to Tark?’
Zyra looked hopefully at Robbie, walking next to her along corridor after identical corridor. The featureless walls and even lighting made it almost impossible for Zyra to make any sense of where they were.
‘I do not know,’ answered Robbie, truthfully. ‘We shall find out shortly.’
They turned a corner and Zyra saw a guard standing against the wall. He was tall and broad, with an impassive face. He wore a black jumpsuit with padding and armour – bullet-proof and able to absorb an energy burst, according to Robbie. He also had accoutrements – a thick black belt around his waist and double bandoleer crossing his chest. There were various devices and pouches attached to the criss-crossed fashion accessory. On his right hand he wore a thick black glove – a bit like a data-glove, but menacing. It was inlaid with silvery threads and reminded Zyra of the glove the Cracker had once used to attack her and Tark.
‘Power-glove,’ explained Robbie. ‘The wearer can throw a concentrated charge of energy – mild enough to stun you, or strong enough to kill you.’
‘Toys!’ whispered Zyra. ‘Could have used something like that back in the Game.’
‘Indeed.’ Robbie brought them to a halt in front of the guard. ‘We have permission to interview the prisoner.’
The guard cocked his head to one side as if listening to a voice no one else could hear.
‘The guards are all cloned from Designer Alpha’s original recruit,’ Robbie explained. ‘He was strong, ruthless and had an unwavering loyalty. The clones also have communications implants.’
The guard stepped aside as a door slid open in the wall. Robbie led the way in, adding, ‘Designer Prime refers to them as grunts.’
There was a table with two chairs just inside the door. Beyond that, a girl sat in what looked like a plastic armchair. Everything was white.
Robbie sat down in one of the chairs, and motioned for Zyra to do the same.
The girl’s eyes widened when she saw Zyra, but she didn’t move.
Zyra studied her intently. She seemed unremarkable in every way – medium height, medium build, mousey mid-brown hair, cut short. Her face was plain. Her clothes were ordinary – black pants, black long sleeved top. She wore no jewellery. Her eyes were the only notable thing about her. There was a burning intensity to them, despite the absolute stillness of her body.
Robbie began the proceedings. ‘My name is Robbie and this is Zyra. We would like to talk with you.’
The girl made no response, her eyes still fixed on Zyra.
‘I understand that you have already been questioned by the Administrators,’ continued Robbie. ‘And that your name is Mel.’
The girl finally moved her eyes to look at Robbie.
‘We were hoping that you might be able to answer some questions,’ he said.
Still no response from the girl.
‘WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH TARK?’ Zyra shouted.
The girl blinked and slowly shifted her gaze back to Zyra.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ asked Zyra, her voice back to a normal level. ‘She doesn’t move. She doesn’t talk. Can she even understand us? Is she stupid?’
‘She can’t move,’ explained Robbie. ‘She is in a restraining chair. She is held in place with a low-level force-field. It should be set so as to allow her to speak. And she can certainly hear us.’
Zyra returned her attention to Mel. ‘Well hear this. If Tark has been hurt in any way, I will kill you. You got that? I will kill you – slowly and painfully.’
Mel blinked.
‘So tell us what the hell you’ve done with Tark,’ said Zyra.
Mel closed her eyes.
‘Fine,’ said Zyra, getting to her feet. ‘If that’s the way you want it.’ She shoved the desk to one side and strode forward.
‘Stop!’ said Robbie.
Zyra ignored him and made a grab for Mel’s throat. Her hand stopped millimetres fro
m its target. Try as she might, she could not get her hand to close around the girl’s throat.
Zyra gave up and tried to pull back instead. That didn’t work either. Her hand was stuck, immobilised by the same force-field that held Mel in place.
‘I warned you,’ said Robbie, still seated at the other end of the room. ‘You have triggered a security alert as well.’
‘Tark is fine.’ Mel’s voice was a harsh whisper, barely audible.
Zyra gave up struggling and stared at her.
‘We rescued him from this evil place,’ hissed Mel. ‘They steal people. Kids. Find out what happens to them.’
A door opened up behind Mel. A guard and a technician entered.
‘You’re special,’ said Mel. ‘Be careful.’
‘This is not acceptable,’ stated the technician in a bland voice.
He tapped at his computer tablet. Zyra’s hand came free and she staggered back. Mel went limp in the chair, slumping forward.
‘Don’t trust any of them,’ whispered Mel.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said the technician, leaning forward.
Mel sprang up, knocking the tablet from the technician’s hand, and grabbed him around the throat. The guard immediately raised his arm, power-glove at the ready.
Zyra tensed, her hands automatically going for her knives … that weren’t there.
Mel edged towards the door, keeping the technician between herself and the guard.
‘Stop!’ the guard demanded, his voice deep and gravelly.
Mel continued to move across the room.
Zyra looked from Mel to the guard and back to Mel. Their eyes met. Should she help Mel? If Mel escaped, she might be able to lead her to Tark.
Robbie’s hand gently touched her shoulder.
There was a crackle of energy and the technician collapsed to the floor with a whimper, leaving Mel out in the open.
Mel froze, eyes wide.
The guard fired his power-glove again and Mel was slammed back against the wall by the bolt of energy. Her unconscious body crumpled to the floor. The guard swiftly strode forward, picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Then he marched out of the room.
The technician groaned and placed a hand to his throbbing head. Staggering to his feet he noticed Zyra and Robbie staring at him, and paused. As if greatly embarrassed by the events, he hurriedly picked up his tablet and rushed from the room.
‘Interesting,’ said Robbie thoughtfully.
‘What is?’ asked Zyra, as the door they had entered through reopened.
‘What Mel said to you.’
Zyra’s eyes locked onto Robbie. ‘You heard?’
‘I have exceptional hearing,’ said Robbie.
***
‘Everyone has their own agenda,’ said Robbie, leading Zyra down the corridor. ‘Mel is right. You should not trust anyone. Not completely, at any rate.’
‘What about you?’ asked Zyra.
‘Would you like a tour?’ Robbie ignored her question.
‘Really?’ said Zyra. ‘I’m allowed?’
‘I would not be permitted to show you everything,’ admitted Robbie. ‘But there is a reasonable amount that I can.’
‘Can you show me the Game?’ asked Zyra.
‘What do you mean exactly?’
‘Well …’ Zyra thought about it. ‘The computer that it is on? Or the hard drive? Or whatever?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Robbie.
More corridors. Blank white walls with harsh overhead lighting. Zyra wondered how anyone could know where they were going.
Finally, Robbie placed his hand on a portion of wall and a door opened. He led the way in.
The first thing that struck Zyra was the humidity. It was like walking into a wall of moist heat and finding it difficult to breathe.
Robbie had brought her into a room with a pool – at least, that was her initial impression. It was a sunken vat, about five metres in diameter. It was filled with a green, gelatinous substance that churned and bubbled and frothed. Tubes and pipes and wiring fed into the ‘pool’, disappearing from view beneath the surface. They snaked around the rim of the pool and connected to the walls around it. Condensation collected on the walls and ceiling, and dripped.
Although the room was white like all the others, the lighting was subdued. And the green gelatinous substance glowed from within.
‘What is this stuff?’ asked Zyra.
‘Billions upon billions of organic nanobots,’ answered Robbie.
‘What are they for?’
‘They are the mainframe,’ said Robbie. ‘The matrix of information. They are the storage and the operation. In essence, they are the Game.’
‘So …’ Zyra stared into the pool. ‘The Game is alive.’
‘In a way,’ said Robbie. ‘The nanobots are organic. But they are not sentient.’
‘So this is the Game data.’ Zyra lifted a hand to her ear but there was no metal stud for her to play with. ‘How do the Designers control it all?’
‘Programming portals. I can show you one.’
He led the way to another room. It was smaller and it was empty.
Zyra scanned the room. ‘There’s nothing here.’
Robbie walked to the centre of the room. ‘Activate portal.’
‘Security scan,’ announced a disembodied, androgynous voice.
Waves of green light flickered across Robbie’s body.
‘Identity confirmed,’ said the voice. ‘Welcome, Robbie. Level four portal access granted.’
Holographic controls materialised around Robbie. His hands moved across the circle of keyboards, and into the mid-air displays, manipulating data directly and rearranging code.
‘It’s like the Ultimate Gamer’s interface,’ breathed Zyra.
‘I suppose it is,’ agreed Robbie. ‘This is Designer Prime’s portal. It is the original one. Each of the other Designers has one as well. Designer Prime allows me to use his.’
His hands continued to fly across the holographic displays.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Zyra.
‘Nothing of any importance,’ said Robbie. ‘I am writing the coding for a cloud formation in the shape of my face. It will appear in Suburbia at random times, for exactly three point four seconds at each manifestation before beginning to disperse.’
‘Oh,’ said Zyra. ‘How creative of you.’
‘It amuses me,’ responded Robbie, his hands slowing down. ‘Session complete. Deactivate portal.’
The holographic displays disappeared and they were again in an empty room.
‘So,’ said Zyra, watching Robbie carefully. ‘You need amusing. Interesting for a robot clone.’
‘Would you like to try using the portal?’ asked Robbie.
‘Me?’ Zyra’s voice betrayed her surprise. ‘I don’t know anything about coding or programming. I wouldn’t know what to do.’
‘You would not be able to do anything,’ said Robbie. ‘Designer Prime has simply arranged observer level access for you.’
‘Um … okay then.’
Robbie stepped aside to allow Zyra into the centre of the room. ‘Activate portal.’
‘Security scan,’ announced the voice.
Zyra flinched as the waves of green light flickered across her body.
‘Identity confirmed,’ said the voice. ‘Welcome, Zyra. Observer level access granted.’
A holographic display of tiny images encircled Zyra. It was like being in the middle of hundreds of mini television screens.
‘This is the environment menu. Each image represents a Game environment,’ explained Robbie. ‘Simply touch the one you would like to observe.’
Zyra chose an image at random. The image enlarged and enveloped her. She found herself in a holographic jungle, wan light filtering down through a lush green canopy.
‘Raise your arm and extend it to move forward,’ instructed Robbie. ‘Then point into whichever direction you want to go. Punch forward to increase speed. Pull back to red
uce.’
Zyra extended her arm and moved through the undergrowth, passing through bushes and trees. Looking around, she saw animals in the undergrowth and in the branches – snakes, monkeys, lizards and birds. They were all moving around as if on fast forward.
‘Why are the animals moving around so fast?’ asked Zyra. ‘I can hardly see them.’
‘Time differential,’ said Robbie. ‘The time scale inside the Game is variable. It can be sped up or slowed down. Accelerated development can allow the Designers to observe decades of progress over the course of mere hours.’
‘Oh.’
Zyra continued to move through the landscape.
‘You can also move up and down,’ said Robbie. ‘When you’ve had enough, swipe your hand, as if you are karate chopping an opponent.’
‘Are robots programmed to be funny?’ asked Zyra.
Robbie did not answer.
Zyra karate chopped a tree and the jungle disappeared. She looked at the environment menu, searching through the myriad images.
‘To your left, third from the bottom,’ said Robbie.
‘How did you know what I was looking for?’ asked Zyra. She located and poked her finger at the World that had been her home.
‘Lucky guess,’ answered Robbie.
‘You don’t seem like a robot to me,’ said Zyra, as the City loomed up around her. She jumped as a gang of mutants appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared again. She raised her arm and moved through the environment. It was mostly deserted. Only a few people flickered in and out of existence. Occasionally the City was plunged into darkness, only to return to daylight seconds later.
‘It seems even faster here,’ said Zyra. ‘It’s hard to follow anything at this speed.’
Robbie stepped forward and leaned into the display. A holographic keyboard materialised. He hit a few keys and stepped back. Everything slowed down to a normal pace.
‘I’ve stabilised the time differential for you,’ he explained.
Gamers' Rebellion Page 4
