Gamers' Rebellion

by George Ivanoff

  Tark fought the instinct to jump back and run. He forced himself to stay still, watching. The face bubbled right up to the glass, staring out at him. It was a girl – long brown hair, matted and scraggly; tired, blood-shot eyes; mouth distorted into an agonised scream. Behind her, more images swam about. As she faded away, another face took her place – a boy with sad eyes, his lips trying to form words. Then he too was gone, replaced by another face, and another, and another.

  Tark pulled himself away from the glass, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps.

  The ghostly image of a girl swam up to the glass. Fingers splayed, she pressed her hand against the surface. Tark reached out and placed his hand on the outside of the tank, lining up with hers.

  ‘Mel!’ Zyra stepped forward.

  ‘Mel?’ Tark glanced at Zyra. ‘Mel is the rebel who was captured during my rescue.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Zyra. ‘That’s her.’

  ‘She’s in here because of me.’

  Tark stared into Mel’s insubstantial eyes. Her hand seemed to merge with the glass.

  ‘She’s trying to get out,’ said Zyra.

  Mel’s brow furrowed and her eyes clamped shut as she pushed with her hand. Her fingertips passed through the glass and brushed Tark’s hand. Then she pulled back, mouth open in a silent scream.

  Tark fell back onto the floor, clutching his hand.

  ‘Help!’ he gasped. ‘Help me! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help us! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help!’

  Zyra grabbed hold of his shoulders and shook him. He continued to mouth the words. She took his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes.

  ‘Tark,’ she said. ‘You okay? Can you hear me?’

  Tark closed his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I can hear you. I can also hear them. It’s awful. They are in so much pain.’ He looked into Zyra’s eyes. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘It’s a containment centre, of course.’

  There was someone leaning up against the glass of the tank. He wore a T-shirt and jeans with white trainers that almost glowed in the greenish light of the tank.

  ‘I’d be impressed that you made it here, if not for the fact that it is rather an inconvenience.’ The voice was familiar.

  He straightened up and stepped forward. It was Tark … no, it was John. John Hayes. Not an older version, like Tina Burrows. He looked young – sixteen at most – just like the avatar Tark used in Suburbia.

  ‘You,’ breathed Tark, slowly getting to his feet. ‘You’re my Suburbia avatar. John.’

  ‘Designer Hayes,’ corrected Zyra. ‘I thought you were –’

  ‘Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,’ cut in the boy. ‘And please, call me Designer Beta.’

  ‘What is it with all these damn titles?’ asked Zyra. ‘Designer Prime. Designer Alpha. And now we have Designer Beta. Don’t suppose there’s a Gamma and a Delta, is there?’

  ‘I should have been the Alpha,’ the Designer muttered under his breath, before raising his voice. ‘Designer Prime is irrelevant. It is only Alpha and Beta. Beta and Alpha. Designing together. Creating. Destroying. Expanding. Ruling. In tandem. Beta and Alpha. Two for tea and tea for …’

  Designer Beta’s voice trailed away as he stared into the tank, the green glow reflected in his eyes. He finally looked away from the tank, lifting up a computer tablet that hadn’t been there a moment before. He ran a finger across the surface, and then lowered his hand, the tablet no longer there.

  ‘Status update,’ he explained. ‘Gotta keep my Alpha in the loop.’ He focused his attention on Tark. ‘Now, what to do with you?’

  ‘Hold it,’ said Zyra. ‘Before we get to the threats and stuff, can you please explain things?’ She pointed to the tanks.

  ‘Ha.’ Designer Beta laughed. ‘You want me to do the whole evil villain routine? Explain the whole dastardly plan? Before setting up some elaborate form of slow death involving lasers and man-eating sharks that you can eventually escape from, while I wander off?’

  Tark looked at Zyra quizzically. Zyra shrugged. ‘No idea,’ she mouthed.

  ‘There is no evil plan,’ Designer Beta explained, spreading out his hands in a gesture of openness. ‘We are simply keeping the Game together. Alpha collects the subjects and puts them into the Game. I keep them restrained, here.’ He tapped the glass and waved at a passing image. ‘Hello in there. Can’t have them running around. Goodness knows what they’d do! It’s a simple matter of containment.’

  ‘Look at them,’ said Tark. ‘Listen to them. They’re in agony.’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ agreed Designer Beta. ‘It’s a tough job. And it kills them … rather slowly. But hey, you can’t create a universe without breaking some … some …’

  Designer Beta frowned, trying to remember. Then, changing his mind, he raised his arm and looked at the watch on his wrist that had not been there a moment before. He turned the hand towards Zyra and waggled his fingers. ‘Ta ta.’

  And Zyra was gone.

  ‘What have you done with her?’ Tark’s voice was panicky.

  ‘I haven’t done anything,’ said Designer Beta. ‘She’s been pulled out of the Game. Now …’ He looked at Tark and smiled. ‘As I said before: What are we going to do with you?’

  26: We Have a Problem

  ‘We have a problem,’ announced Robert. ‘Alpha knows. She’s pulled Zyra out of the Game. Tark is still in there. She can’t get to him. His access nanobots are well shielded.’ Concentration creased Robert’s face. ‘How did the rebels get tech like this? The design is too good. Familiar.’ He looked at Robbie.

  Robbie met his gaze. ‘I gave it to them.’

  ‘You’re the informer?’ Robert looked impressed rather than disappointed. ‘You’ve evolved quicker than I expected.’

  He turned his attention back to the Game.

  ‘Tark is on his own. And I’ve got to free the children.’ He glanced over at Robbie. ‘You had better go and help Zyra.’

  Robbie turned to leave.

  ‘Wait,’ said Robert. ‘Alpha will have alerted her grunts. Take the secret passage.’

  ‘There’s a secret passage?’ Robbie exclaimed.

  ‘Nice to know I’ve been able to keep some secrets from you.’ A holo-map appeared in the display in front of Robert. He flicked at it with a finger and it zoomed across the room to Robbie.

  Robbie quickly scanned it. ‘Got it.’

  The map faded and a hatch opened up in the floor. Robbie climbed down the ladder and the hatch resealed itself.

  27: Back in the Lab

  Zyra woke.

  She was lying on a table, unable to move. She felt the liquid dribbling from her nose. Designer Alpha’s face came into view, looking down at her.

  ‘My, but you are resourceful,’ she said through pinched lips. ‘And troublesome.’

  Zyra smiled weakly. ‘Happy to oblige.’

  ‘But you have failed,’ Alpha continued. ‘Beta will take care of your Tark. And as for you.’ She held up a syringe of nanobots. ‘You still have an appointment with my pet nanos.’

  Designer Alpha slowly brought the needle towards Zyra’s eye. ‘There are no pain-numbing nanobots in this one,’ she said, eyes glinting. ‘That would be an unnecessary waste of resources.’

  Zyra’s heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to move.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ said Alpha. ‘Force field.’

  Zyra’s breath came in ragged gasps. She watched the needle closing in, her eyes losing focus.

  An alarm blared and Designer Alpha pulled back.

  ‘Security breach,’ announced the androgynous voice. ‘Nanobots for control subjects are being reprogrammed.’

  ‘What?’ demanded Designer Alpha. ‘How is that possible?’

  ‘Prime programming portal is in operation,’ said the computer voice. ‘Access restrictions have been overridden.’

  ‘How?’ demanded Alpha.

  ‘Back door code.’r />
  ‘Send in the guards,’ spat Designer Alpha. ‘I don’t care if he is the Prime, I want him dead. I’ll try to stop him from my portal.’

  And then she was sweeping out of the room, leaving a confusion of milling people in her wake.

  Zyra breathed a sigh of relief and tried to watch things from the corner of her eyes. Every now and then someone in a white coat rushed past, clutching equipment or a computer tablet. She continued to fight against the force field, straining her muscles, hoping to break free.

  After a short while, Zyra realised that everything was silent. Everyone had moved on to do whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. She heard a door slide open, and resumed her struggling.

  ‘I don’t think you’re going anywhere,’ said a voice, as a needle and syringe came back into Zyra’s view.

  Designer-in-training Welbourne leered down at her.

  ‘I had been hoping that Designer Alpha might let me conduct some of my own experiments with you.’ He sighed. ‘But alas not. She’s quite determined to analyse your brain … no matter the cost.’

  ‘No!’ Zyra tried struggling again.

  ‘Yes!’ Welbourne leaned in with the needle and syringe. ‘What Alpha wants, Alpha gets. I just hope there’s a little bit left for me once it’s all over.’

  He stopped, centimetres from Zyra’s face, his smile frozen on his face, his eyes wide. Zyra watched in terror. Welbourne’s eyes glazed over and he slowly sank out of her field of vision.

  Robbie stepped forward, an empty syringe in his own hand.

  ‘Am I glad to see you,’ breathed Zyra.

  ‘Oh.’ Robbie blushed. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’

  He tossed the syringe to one side and pressed a button on the side of the table.

  ‘Force field is off.’

  Zyra sat up. She looked down at the Designer-in-training lying on the floor and then back up at Robbie.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You are most welcome,’ said Robbie. ‘Now we need to get back to Designer Prime.’

  ‘I heard Burrows order the guards to kill him,’ said Zyra.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ said Robbie. ‘The prime programming portal has its own defences.’

  ‘And Burrows also said she was going to her own portal to stop him.’

  ‘He knows the system better than anyone,’ said Robbie. ‘I doubt there is much that Designer Alpha can do. Now come on, let’s get going.’

  ‘Hey, can we go via a toilet?’ asked Zyra.

  ‘Now?’ Robbie tilted his head slightly. ‘Things are rather urgent.’

  ‘It’s all that water you gave me to drink before. I really need to pee.’

  28: Beta and Tark

  ‘Exit!’ Tark backed up to the glass, the eerie glow of the liquid within highlighting his face. ‘Exit!’

  Designer Beta laughed. ‘That’s not going to work in here. My security overrides any nanobots in your system. You cannot exit unless I allow it.’ He paused. ‘And I don’t.’

  ‘Yeah, I get it,’ said Tark. ‘You’re the lord of your little domain.’

  ‘I am so much more than that,’ said Designer Beta. ‘I am integral.’

  ‘Really?’ Tark put on his best sceptical expression.

  ‘The Game would not survive without me and my containment centre,’ boasted Designer Beta. ‘And I do vital research. My investigations into autonomous Game entities enabled Designer Alpha to create the anti-virus program. She needs me!’

  ‘Blah, blah, blah.’

  ‘Watch yourself, boy.’ Designer Beta’s eye flashed with rage. ‘I could pick apart your coding oh so very slowly.’ He snapped his fingers and a rack of tools descended from the ceiling – sharp, evil looking tools. He picked up an instrument that appeared to be a cross between dental pliers and a soldering iron. He stroked its tarnished length and spoke quietly. ‘I’ve hunted down dozens of Game entities over the years … bringing them here for examination. Amazing what you can discover in their binary makeup … when it’s all unravelled and lying on the floor.’ He snapped his fingers again and the tools were gone.

  Designer Beta stepped up close to Tark and whispered. ‘Never doubt my importance.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, whatever you say!’ said Tark. Then he grinned and said, ‘Beta. B. Number two. Second fiddle.’ He paused for effect. ‘Side. Kick.’

  ‘We are equal, Alpha and I,’ began Designer Beta.

  ‘Sure you are, Johnny-boy,’ said Tark. ‘That’s why she’s out there, and you’re in here.’

  ‘I’m the only one she trusted enough,’ said Beta.

  ‘You think you’re the jailer,’ said Tark, bringing it home. ‘But you’re not, are you? You’re just another inmate. Placed here so as not to get in Alpha’s way.’

  ‘That is not true,’ insisted Designer Beta. ‘I am essential. I am …’

  ‘I know how your mind works, John Hayes,’ said Tark. ‘You forget … you are my avatar. I’ve been you. I know how much you love being in charge – the one making the decisions; the one with all the answers … the Alpha.’

  Designer Beta took a few steps back and did a little turn. He came around to face Tark again, holding a flamethrower. ‘And don’t think I can’t see through you,’ he said. ‘I was playing as you before there was even a spark of sentience in you. You play dumb, but you’re not. You let Zyra take the lead, you allow her the limelight, even though it’s rightfully yours.’

  ‘Nah,’ said Tark. ‘Zyra and I … we are a team.’

  Designer Beta’s hand tightened on the weapon, knuckles going white. The pilot flame ignited, flickering in front of the barrel, waiting for a jet of gas.

  ‘Alert!’ The androgynous computer voice spoke. ‘Nanobots in control subjects are being modified.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Security has been alerted,’ the voice continued. ‘Designer Alpha is taking countermeasures. She instructs that you are not to eliminate Tark. He must be kept alive and detained.’

  ‘Orders from your boss?’ asked Tark.

  ‘Shut up!’ snapped Designer Beta.

  ‘No!’ said Tark, taking a step forward.

  ‘Stay back, or I’ll –’

  ‘Or you’ll what?’ said Tark, taking another step. ‘Incinerate me? Your boss lady just gave you an order. You’re to keep me alive.’

  ‘I make the decisions here!’ shouted Beta. ‘This is my domain. I’m the king of this … cottage. She isn’t here. She does not control me.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Tark, taking yet another step. ‘Sure you are. You’re going to kill me even though she said no. Do that, and she’ll never let you out.’

  Designer Beta pulled the trigger, a burst of flame shooting just to the left of Tark.

  Despite the intense heat, Tark willed himself to keep still. He knew that if he showed any weakness, all would be lost.

  Screaming in frustration, Designer Beta switched off the flamethrower. Quietening, he wavered, a moment of uncertainty passing over his eyes. Then the weapon was gone.

  Tark pressed home his advantage. ‘That’s a good lapdog. Back away.’

  ‘She said not to kill you.’ Designer Beta looked Tark in the eyes. ‘But I don’t need to kill you.’ He lifted a pistol and shot Tark in the leg.

  Tark fell to the floor, searing pain running through his left leg, surprise running over his face. He had underestimated Designer Beta. He fell to the floor clutching his thigh, blood spilling out of the wound, soaking into his leggings, seeping out over his fingers.

  ‘What have you done?’ It was Designer Alpha’s voice.

  ‘I haven’t killed him,’ said Designer Beta defensively. ‘Just wounded him.’

  ‘Designer Prime is modifying the nanobots for the control subjects,’ said Designer Alpha. ‘They are gaining Game consciousness. They are overcoming the containment. You need to increase the capacity of the containment field.’

  Designer Beta turned away from Tark and walked to a dark corner of the room.
The area lit up, revealing banks of grimy computer equipment. It looked to be in the same state as the tank, as if no one had cleaned it in decades. The Designer bent over the equipment.

  Tark dragged himself over to the tank. Leaning his weight on it, he started to pull himself up to his feet. Finally, standing, he leaned his face up against it, staring into its murky depths.

  A face swam up to him. It was Mel.

  ‘Help!’

  He saw her mouthing the word. He also heard it in his head.

  ‘Help! Let me out!’

  Straining against the pain in his leg, Tark turned and pushed off from the glass. He took an unsteady step. Then another. And another. With a huge effort of will he made his way towards Designer Beta, leaving a little trail of blood in his wake.

  Designer Beta worked the controls, as meters went over into the red and warnings flashed across screens. He turned, just as Tark lunged at him. The Designer tried to bring the gun around to point at Tark, but Tark grabbed his arms. The two of them stumbled and toppled over.

  They hit the floor and Tark yelled out, his leg throbbing with pain. They tumbled, struggling for control of the weapon. They both had their hands on it, each trying to bring it around to point at the other.

  And then, to the surprise of both of them, the gun fired. They stopped struggling. The bullet had hit the tank. The glass was very thick, but a small crack had appeared.

  ‘No!’ Designer Beta shouted. He shoved Tark and scrambled to his feet, the gun skittering across the floor. Racing to the tank, he crouched down and ran a hand over the crack.

  Tark looked up. Mel was still there, at the glass, staring out at Designer Beta. Beta turned around and stalked back towards Tark. With a cry of rage, he kicked Tark in his wounded leg, and then returned his attention to the computers.

  Tark howled in pain, clutching at his leg. His vision swam and his mind came close to shutting down.

  Designer Beta worked the controls with renewed vigour, before hitting a communications switch.