Gamers' Rebellion

by George Ivanoff

  Zyra continued to search through the City. It wasn’t long before she found the basement hideout that she used to inhabit with Tark – currently inhabited by copies of them.

  The basement was empty.

  ‘Out questing, no doubt,’ said Robbie.

  Zyra swiped her hand as if she really did want to karate chop someone, and the holographic image disappeared.

  ‘Deactivate portal,’ she grunted.

  She was again in an empty room with just a supposed robot clone for company.

  ‘All very impressive,’ said Zyra.

  ‘We should return to Designer Prime.’

  11: Food

  Devon put a bowl and spoon onto the rickety trestle table. Tark sat down and winced. He was still wearing the ill-fitting, torn lab coat, but now he wore a pair of pink bike shorts underneath. They were also too tight. He pulled at the clinging lycra.

  ‘Sorry about the clothes,’ said Devon. ‘I’ve sent Len to try and find you something better.’

  Tark grunted and looked down at his food – if you could call it that. It was a grey mush that looked very unappetising indeed. He picked up the spoon and plunged it into the bowl.

  ‘Wots is it?’

  ‘It’s a high protein, high carb energy food,’ said Devon. ‘It comes in powdered form and you mix it with water. And it’s cheap.’ He smiled. ‘Better than it sounds. I mixed in some sugar and some powdered milk as well.’

  Tark lifted the spoon to his mouth and tentatively gave it a try. It had the consistency of mud. But it was sweet. And now that he had put a little into his mouth, he realised how hungry he was.

  ‘Nots bad,’ he said, shovelling the slush into his mouth.

  Devon sat down next to Tark.

  ‘What’s it like?’ asked Devon. ‘In the Game?’

  Tark swallowed and looked over at the boy. There was a curiosity that verged on eagerness in his eyes.

  ‘Dunno.’ Tark shrugged. ‘Dangerous. Um. It wuz … wells … everything. It wuz alls I knew. It wuz … just our lives, I guess.’

  ‘Oh.’ Devon nodded as if he understood.

  Tark doubted that he did. He took another mouthful, chewed on the lumps and swallowed. He looked at Devon. ‘So, why is ya doing all this?’

  ‘The boss already explained,’ he said. ‘We don’t like what the Designers are doing. We’re rebelling.’

  ‘Yeah, I gets that.’ Tark lifted another spoonful to his mouth. ‘But how’d ya gets involved?’

  Devon put his elbows on the table and leant his head on his hands.

  ‘I used to be out on the streets. Saw kids getting taken. Guys in white coats offering food and games and a place to live. Seemed too good to be true. I said no. They tried to take me anyway. So I ran and hid. Then Josie starts nosing around. Asking questions. She saved me.’

  He shuddered. Tark thought that at this moment, he looked more like a scared kid than a rebel.

  ‘She gave me a place to live. Here. And I’ve been helping her. I went back to the streets and found Len and Tara.’

  Tark chewed thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s hard out on the streets,’ said Devon. ‘This is better. Here we’ve got a purpose, as well as a place to live.’ He smiled. ‘Rebels with a cause.’

  Tark finished his food.

  ‘Takes me back ta sees yar boss.’

  Devon led Tark back to the makeshift lab.

  Josie was sitting in a corner, staring at a computer tablet. She held it up so Tark could see the photo on the screen.

  ‘Her name is Mel,’ said Josie, sadly. ‘She was captured during your rescue. If not for her –’

  ‘Oh, enough with the guilts,’ said Tark, striding up to Josie. ‘I’ll does it. But I is doing it ’cause I wanna fight the Designers. I is doing it ’cause I wants Zyra back.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d come around.’ Josie smiled. ‘Devon?’

  Devon rushed over to a small refrigerator and retrieved something. He handed it to Josie and stepped back. Josie held up a small needle and syringe. It was barely the length of her little finger. She flicked it with her index finger to force any bubbles of air to the top, then gave the plunger a little push. The air was expelled and a tiny drop of green liquid formed on the tip of the needle.

  ‘Wot are ya gonna do with that?’ asked Tark, voice a little shaky.

  ‘Inject it into your eyeball,’ said Josie matter-of-factly.

  ‘Ya keeps that thing aways from me.’ Tark backed away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Josie. ‘This is the only way. Hold still.’ Tark continued to back up. ‘Devon?’

  Tark felt something being pressed into his back.

  ‘Nots again.’

  He felt the charge course through his body, his muscles convulsing in response. His vision blurred and his legs gave out. He felt someone catch him and lower him to the floor.

  Tark tried to get up but couldn’t move. A distorted face swam into view.

  ‘I am sorry it had to be this way,’ said Josie, holding up the syringe. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks. There are painkiller nanobots bonded to the needle. They should take effect within milliseconds.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Okay. Devon.’

  Tark felt a hand firmly take hold of his forehead. Then there were fingers on his face, holding his left eye open, making it impossible for him to blink.

  ‘Sorry,’ whispered Devon.

  Josie turned the syringe, aiming the needlepoint at Tark’s eye. His vision was still blurred and he could not focus on it, which he realised was probably a blessing. But he knew that the needle was slowly inching towards him.

  Pain shot through his eye, announcing the needle’s entry, searing its way through his entire face and head. If he could have screamed, he would have.

  It was all over before it had much of a chance to register. Tark realised that Josie was telling the truth about the painkillers.

  His vision now clouded over with grey. Sizzling, sparkling, swirling grey static rushed towards him with a whooshing sound like an oncoming tornado.

  12: The Game

  ‘The Chief Administrator has just filed her report with Designer Alpha,’ said Robert, as Zyra and Robbie returned. ‘Won’t be long before she’ll want to see the Game entity in the clone body.’

  ‘You keep mentioning this Designer Alpha,’ said Zyra. ‘Is there a Beta as well?’

  ‘Not anymore,’ said Robbie. ‘Designer Alpha disposed of him.’

  ‘So, how did the interrogation go?’ Robert cut in.

  ‘I didn’t realise it was meant to be an interrogation,’ answered Zyra, coming to stand behind the leather chair.

  ‘Merely a convenience of terminology.’ Robert glided from the tech wall over to Zyra. ‘A pity the young rebel was not a little more communicative.’

  Zyra raised an eyebrow. ‘If you already knew the outcome, why ask?’

  ‘Courtesy.’

  ‘The tour was more productive,’ Robbie interjected.

  ‘Did you enjoy seeing into the Game?’ asked Robert.

  ‘Enjoy isn’t the right word.’ Zyra stared ahead. ‘It was … interesting. It felt strange – seeing it but not actually being in it.’

  ‘Do you miss it?’ Robert seemed eager for an answer.

  ‘No. Yes. Sort of.’ Zyra furrowed her brow in confusion. ‘I definitely don’t want to be playing the Game, but … It’s just that this world still feels so unreal.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s silly. This is the real world. The Game wasn’t real. Yet my memories of it feel more real than …’ She spread out her arms. ‘… this!’

  ‘Sometimes I feel like I’m just a character in a game,’ said Robert. ‘Like I’m the one being manipulated.’

  Zyra raised an eyebrow. Robert stared at her for a moment, then lowered his eyes. ‘Sometimes I have this notion that we are just one world within many. That this reality is merely a game within someone else’s reality. That we are here to entertain and amuse.’ He paused and looked up to meet Zyra’s eyes again. ‘Wo
rlds within worlds within worlds within … ad infinitum. Perhaps all of creation is just a game. Games within games within games … ad infinitum.’

  ‘So this isn’t really reality?’ Zyra looked confused.

  ‘Who knows?’ Robert sighed. ‘What is reality anyway, aside from what we make of it?’

  Zyra watched Robert, encased in his chair looking up at her. There was that twinkle in his eyes again. He’s playing, she thought. He’s playing with me.

  ‘I think this world is real,’ she finally said. ‘You’re just trying to confuse me … to play with my mind. I think there’s something wrong with you. You’re obsessed with playing games. You become Bobby to play games. But no, that’s not enough for you – is it? Bobby then has to become someone else – the Fat Man or the Pinball Wizard or whoever – to play more games within games. Even out here you’re playing. You’ve created yourself a robot to listen in on the other Designers. I think you’re playing with them. And now my existence in this world, my need to find Tark, my desire to find out what’s going on … it’s all just another game for you to play.’

  Zyra leaned down and brought her face right up to Robert’s. ‘I am not your plaything. I will not be drawn into your stupid games.’

  She stared into Robert’s unblinking eyes. And he stared back.

  ‘Bravo,’ he finally said. ‘Bravo. You really do have strength of mind. More so than most real people.’

  Zyra straightened up and stepped back.

  ‘It’s true,’ he admitted. ‘I do like playing games. And yes, you could say that I am playing against the other Designers. They want very different things from me.’

  ‘Yeah?’ said Zyra. ‘Well, what do they want?’

  ‘Oh, the usual,’ said Robert. ‘Money, power, control over others … world domination.’

  ‘World domination with a game?’ asked Zyra.

  ‘It’s so much more than a game these days,’ explained Robert.

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Well.’ Robert took a deep, rattling breath. ‘Things started out with a simple virtual reality interface – data glove and headset. Limited interaction. Then we tried direct input with the brain via electrical impulses, giving a much more real experience. But there were still limitations. The human brain could only handle the virtual reality connection for short periods of time – a few hours at most. Reaching its limit the brain would begin to reject the connection.’

  ‘Full immersion came with the development of a nanobot interface.’ Robert paused. ‘Perhaps I should show you. Take a seat.’

  Robbie fetched the headset and placed it on Zyra. Once again, she entered Robert’s thoughts.

  A person lay on what looked like a hospital bed. She was surrounded by computer equipment and connected to numerous intravenous drips and monitors.

  ‘Organic nanobots are injected into the player. They travel to the brain and create a direct connection to the Game. The player’s experience in the virtual world is indistinguishable from reality. Because the brain accepts the experience as reality, there is no limit on the time spent in the Game. So long as the body is supplied with intravenous nutrients and muscles are kept toned with electrical impulses, the player could, theoretically, spend their entire life within the Game.’

  The scene changed.

  ‘Designer Burrows saw the potential in this for government contracts. Firstly in the area of military training.’

  Zyra saw what appeared to be a large hospital room. Rows and rows of beds with unconscious bodies, all hooked up to the Game. People in lab coats walked between the beds, checking on the unconscious people and making notes on their computer tablets.

  ‘War zone environments were created to train soldiers. It proved to be an effective method of training – low risk but high experience.’

  The scene changed. It was now a much larger room, with a great many more people crammed in together. The room was darker and there was an air of abandonment. No one was checking on these people.

  ‘With skyrocketing prison costs, the Department of Corrections funded a trial program. Criminals were placed into the Game. They were punished by being given characters and situations that placed them as victims. Robbers became those being robbed. Corporate criminals who embezzled large sums of money to finance extravagant lifestyles found themselves in unimaginable poverty. Those who committed violent crimes were forced to be the victims of violent crimes. Murderers got to experience being murdered … the fear, the helplessness, the pain … over and over again.’

  ‘That’s horrible!’ said Zyra.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ agreed Robert.

  The scene shifted.

  More unconscious bodies. Hundreds of them were suspended in fluid filled bags, connected by tubes to bubbling vats of nanobots.

  ‘Clones,’ said Robert. ‘The Designers have been growing them. Perfect versions of themselves.’

  Zyra realised that all the bodies looked the same. They all looked like her … like Tina Burrows. But not quite like the real Tina Burrows. These clones were idealised versions of her with perfect, toned musculature and flawless beauty.

  Zyra took a closer look at one of them, crouching down and bringing her face right up close to its womb-like bag. The clone’s eyes were shut, its face slack. Its skin was tinged green by the surrounding fluid. It was not breathing, so there was no movement. It looked eerily embryonic and corpse-like at the same time. Zyra shuddered and straightened up. This is what her clone body had looked like before her mind had been downloaded.

  Zyra hurriedly moved through the bodies, eager to move on. At the end of the room she passed through the wall into an identical room. This one was full of faultless John Hayeses.

  ‘If I look like Tina … is this what Tark now looks like?’

  ‘Yes,’ answered Robert.

  Zyra looked into of the bags. Her eyes appreciatively scanned along the toned muscles and perfect skin. She tried imagining Tark in that body and the corners of her mouth curled up involuntarily.

  ‘These bodies are ready to have Game entities downloaded into them.’

  ‘Like Tark and me?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ said Robert. ‘Game entities – yes. But not independent, freethinking entities that have become their own people. Game entities that have been programmed and trained by the Designers.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Zyra.

  ‘Remember I mentioned world domination,’ said Robert. ‘Designer Burrows is up to something big. Her ambition has grown over the years. But I do not know to what extent. Thankfully, she has not yet succeeded in a download. You and Tark have the distinction of being the only two successful downloads.’

  ‘Tark is in the Game!’ Robbie’s voice cut through the virtual image.

  13: Desert Sands

  Tark suddenly felt hot.

  He squinted as his eyes tried to adjust to the brightness. He held up a hand to shade his face and looked out over an endless expanse of sand. Twin suns shone down from a lavender-hued sky.

  ‘Greats!’ said Tark, his mouth immediately feeling dry and dusty.

  He slowly turned 360 degrees, eyes scanning the horizon. Nothing but sand as far as he could see, flat and featureless in one direction, dunes rising up in the other. He was beginning to sweat, his clothes feeling heavy and making him hotter.

  Clothes?

  He looked down at himself. Leggings. Boots. Tunic. Cloak. He was back in his old outfit. Tark lifted a hand, running his fingers along the scar that cut a path through the stubble on his head.

  ‘I is me again,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’re in!’ Josie’s excited voice rang in his head.

  Tark whirled around. She was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Where the hell is ya?’ he growled. ‘When I gets me hands on ya, I is gonna makes ya sorry.’

  ‘I’m not in there with you,’ said her disembodied voice. ‘There were some communications nanos in the mix. I’m still in the laboratory with your body.’

 
Tark clenched his fists and snarled.

  ‘It’s just a vocal communication,’ she continued. ‘Can you tell us where you are?’

  ‘I is in a desert,’ he said flatly.

  ‘What can you see?’

  ‘Sand!’

  ‘Anything else? Can you see any signs of life?’

  ‘No,’ said Tark, looking around again. ‘It don’t matter anyways. Zyra and me brokes the rules. We can’t interacts with anyone.’

  ‘We’re not certain of that,’ said Josie. ‘You’ve exited the Game and now re-entered as a player. Remember, you’re not a Game entity any more. You’re a real person, playing the Game. I’d say there is a pretty good chance that you’ll be able to interact and play.’

  ‘Well, there ain’t anyone here to play with!’ shouted Tark.

  ‘Change environments.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You’ve just got to think it,’ explained Josie.

  Tark was just about to tell Josie where he would like her to go, when he caught a glimpse of something – a flash of light on the horizon. He again held up his hand to shield his face from the harsh sunlight. Far off in the distance, something was moving. Coming closer.

  ‘I sees sumthin’,’ he announced. ‘Sumthin’ moving across the sand. It’s coming towards me.’

  ‘Excellent!’

  Tark watched as the shape came into view. It was a huge ship with sails and masts, skimming across the sand at an incredible speed.

  ‘It’s some kinda ship.’

  A cloud of smoke burst from the oncoming ship, followed a second later by a booming sound. Shielding his eyes, Tark saw a black dot sailing through the air. And it was getting bigger. He turned to run. The ground a dozen metres to the right of him erupted in a geyser of sand.

  Tark threw himself to the sand, shouting, ‘They is shooting ats me!’

  ‘Excellent!’ cried Josie, her voice going up a notch. ‘They must be able to see you then.’

  ‘No kiddin’!’

  ‘So you can probably interact and play,’ added Josie.