Virtual Kombat (Pocket Money Puffin)

by Chris Bradford

  A mass of street kids crowd a gigantic white truck, the VK logo emblazoned along its side. The tune stops. All the free Zing bars have been given out and the PlayPods are full.

  I curse. Just my luck. The very night I get stitched, the VK Selektor Truck visits our zone!

  The truck is the one way off these streets. A mobile VK game station. Prove you’re good enough and you become a games tester for Vince Power – winning a place in his orphanage. Food every day, a soft bed, heating, education – a chance at a normal life.

  Even if you aren’t chosen, each player gets a food pack. That makes all the difference out here – you can eat and trade. Survive.

  But I missed out.

  Shark didn’t. He’s settled into the curving black seat of a PlayPod, his NeuroHood already in place. His gang jostle for position in front of his vuescreen. Stick spots me in the crowd.

  No point in hanging around. Whether Shark qualifies or not, with a score to settle, his gang will be after me. I’ll have to move to a new zone.

  Limping away, I hear my name called.

  Tommy’s sitting in a PlayPod, frantically waving me over.

  ‘Take my place,’ he says.

  ‘What?’ I exclaim. ‘Are you crazy? A chance like this don’t come every day.’

  Tommy glances at a mute figure standing beside me. ‘Can’t leave me sis behind, can I?’

  He scoots off his seat. ‘Saving it for you, anyways.’

  ‘KOMBATANTS READY!’ booms a voice through the loudspeaker.

  No time to argue. I hurriedly clamber in and pull down the Hoody. Just as the game begins.

  Game Over

  My brain goes dark.

  Tracers of light streak past my eyes and suddenly I’m transported to an exotic Chinese temple. Stone dragons dominate each corner of the chamber, their mouths brimming with fire. Steel spikes stick up from the floorboards in a large ring – the boundary of the fight zone.

  This is a single-room Battle-rena, designed for training. No exits. No puzzles. And no enemy or monsters. Just fighter-vs-fighter kombat. An all-out knockdown match where only the survivor wins.

  Standing in a circle, the other kombatants await the command to begin.

  Flicking my eyes to the right, I quickly inspect my choice of avatar. There’s not much left. A sumo wrestler. A female ninja. An old priest. Then I see the familiar white jacket of a taekwondoka. My body morphs from default setting into the lean muscular physique of a martial arts expert.

  My avatar’s green life-bar flashes up in my lower vision.

  It’s been a while since I played a video game. Could do with some practice.

  VK’s changed the gaming experience almost beyond recognition. No more jumping around your living room with a time-lagged motion-controller. Not since Vince Power invented mind-controlled headsets – Hoodies, we call ’em. You simply think your actions and they happen on screen. Then, last year, the sets were upgraded with DNIs: direct neural interfaces. Gamers now live the game – in their head!

  A blast of horns leads to pounding taiko drums.

  ‘KOMMENCE KOMBAT!’

  The Battle-rena turns into a bloody free-for-all. Twenty kids fighting for one place in the orphanage. I glance around, wondering which one is Shark.

  A warrior princess is hurled through the air. Blood gushes out of her chest as she’s skewered on a floor spike. A muscle-bound African wrestler hammers a soldier-of-fortune into the ground. Meanwhile, a man in dark shades and a long black leather jacket destroys a Shaolin monk with a lethal combination of flying kicks.

  Towering over me, a tattooed Mongol warrior takes a brutal swing with a club. But misses entirely.

  A bit of luck. My first opponent’s a totally inexperienced gamer. Barely able to control his avatar, he’s wide open to attack. I fell the Mongol with a lightning-fast sweep-kick. Then pummel him with a rapid succession of punches – each one hyper-sounded with a gut-churning crunch. His life-bar disintegrates as I finish him off with an axe-kick. The warrior coughs up virtual blood.

  Familiar with my avatar’s fighting style, I can react quicker than the others to inflict high-damage blows. I rapidly take out a samurai warrior, a Thai kickboxer and the African wrestler, with a devastating sacrifice-throw and arm-break combo.

  Adrenalin pumping with the excitement of kombat, I feel my pulse racing. It’s like the real thing – but without the pain.

  Only a few kombatants left.

  Leatherman now advances on me. This one moves with dangerous fluidity. He whirls in the air, spin-kicking me in the jaw. I reel, stars flashing before my eyes. My life-bar flickers and I lose a health point. He follows up with a series of roundhouses and back-kicks. My life-bar drops under the onslaught. It becomes harder and harder to control my avatar.

  80% … 60% … 45% … 30% …

  My vision’s now blurred and flashes red. I can’t withstand much more damage.

  I flip away to safety as an Amazonian warrior attacks Leatherman from behind. She’s the only other kombatant left. Until Leatherman jumps up and catches her head between his legs. He breaks her neck with a double-twist.

  As I watch him annihilate the Amazonian, I realize something. All Leatherman can do is kick.

  Retreating to the edge of the ring, I feign defeat and bait him to finish me. To end the game.

  He executes a flying side-kick. At the same time, I drop and slide beneath him. Outwitted, Leatherman can’t stop himself and lands on the deadly spikes. Somewhere in the background, beyond the game itself, I’m vaguely aware of cheering.

  GAME OVER

  My vision goes blank.

  I pull off the Hoody, blinking as my eyes adjust to the real world. For a moment, I’m disorientated. Almost feel sick, as if I’ve been spun round too much.

  The crowd’s cheering me as Shark’s escorted off the truck, his consolation food pack in hand. He doesn’t look very consoled. Snatching his leather jacket from Stick, he glares up at me.

  ‘I’ll blaze you one day,’ he growls.

  In his hand, the pulse-blade of his Blazer flashes on and off.

  As the truck begins to drive away, I spy Tommy and his sis among the mass of shouting kids. I throw him my food pack.

  Grinning, he gives me a good-luck V sign – flipping it sideways into a K.

  Kat-Ana

  ‘Welcome to your new home,’ says the silver-grey charm that is Vince Power.

  He flashes a pearly-white smile. Everyone beams back. It’s like a dream for us fifteen new kids gathered in the main hall of Power Orphanage, all fancy nu-deco arches and glass-domed ceilings.

  Since arrival, I’ve had a medical check-up, my first wash in weeks and slept in a proper bed. I’ve eaten hot food and been given new clothes – an all-black kombat suit with the VK logo in red upon my chest. My name’s laser-stitched in white across the back:

  SCOTT

  I was supposed to choose an avatar tag. But I couldn’t think of one at the time.

  ‘You’ve all shown a natural talent for VK,’ explains our saviour. ‘You’re here to develop those skills and become game testers for the next generation of VK. All I ask in return is that you obey the rules.’

  A tall black girl, with the tag VIXEN, puts her hand up. ‘What are the rules?’

  Vince looks at her gravely. Then grins. ‘There aren’t any.’

  Everyone laughs.

  ‘Not in the Battle-rena, at least. But here, the guardians will look after you.’

  He indicates a row of thirty or so men and women, sharply attired in red VK uniforms. A large round-faced woman shoots me a friendly wink. The rest appear a bit severe and military for my liking.

  ‘We simply require respect. Don’t wander into any restricted areas, for your own safety. Stay within the orphanage. And go to bed at lights out.’

  A groan echoes through the hall. Ignoring the protests, Vince sweeps his hand majestically round the refectory, large enough to seat five hundred. ‘Here is where you’ll eat. Break
fast, lunch and dinner.’

  I gasp in astonishment with the other kids. Three meals a day!

  Above us on the main wall, a huge vuescreen broadcasts the daily VK Grand-Arena show. Destroid’s getting airtime again. He’s entered the Warrior Top Ten, having just beaten Khaos in a Face-Off. The kung-fu fighter’s brains are splattered all over the screen, another victim of the Skullcrusher strike.

  ‘Through the glass doors is the Chill Zone,’ explains Vince, noting Destroid’s gory victory with an appreciative nod. ‘It’s the place you can relax after training. Follow me.’

  This room’s kitted out with sofas, beanbags, vending machines and PlayPods. A bunch of kids are chilling out in one corner. They salute Vince as he enters, but barely give us a glance. Their eyes are glued to a grid of smaller vuescreens on the far wall. Different Battle-renas are being broadcast from the one in the refectory. A digital leaderboard displays kombatants’ names that I don’t recognize. Even Destroid’s missing from the Top Ten.

  ‘Which VK League’s this?’ I ask.

  ‘Your one,’ replies Vince. ‘They’re feeds from the Training Zone. At any time, you can watch your fellow kombatants fighting.’

  On the central screen a female avatar is battling a ninja assassin. She reminds me of a retro Lara Croft, all shorts and tight T-shirt, a samurai sword strapped to her back. The display flashes: GINGER NINJA VS KAT-ANA.

  The Ginger Ninja is leaping through the air, executing dynamic twists and lightning kicks. He’s so fast I can hardly keep up with him. But Kat-Ana’s evading every attack. All of a sudden, she power-drives upwards, catching the flying ninja from below with an eye-watering strike.

  Ginger Ninja crumples to the ground. Taking her time, Kat-Ana launches herself and lands a devastating double elbow-strike to the head. The ninja’s eyeballs pop out of his skull.

  ‘KILLING STRIKE!’

  A fanfare of horns ends the match. The kids in the corner quickly drown it out with a mixture of jeering and shouting. Kat-Ana’s name jumps one place on the leaderboard to 9.

  ‘The top-scoring kombatant each week is promoted to Elite Gamer status and goes through to our Special Projects Division,’ explains Vince. ‘Those who excel in Special Projects then enter the Grand-Arena – a chance to fight for the VK Crown itself.’

  Excited whispering spreads among the new arrivals. The Crown is the ultimate prize. Ten million, plus your name in the Warrior Hall of Fame.

  Vince leads us down a neon-lit hallway to a door marked TRAINING ZONE. We enter a large circular room. Three men in white VK uniforms are sitting at a central control module, studying banks of mini-vuescreens.

  ‘The Analysts,’ Vince announces. ‘They assess every fight, give feedback and select your training programmes. By honing your VK skills, you test our games to the limit.’

  I gaze in curiosity at the countless doors surrounding us on three levels. All are numbered, apart from a single lower one with a RESTRICTED ACCESS sign.

  ‘Your PlayPods are housed individually,’ explains a pasty-faced Analyst. ‘That way we can monitor your real and virtual self in a controlled environment.’

  Door 36 opens with a soft swish. I look over expectantly. A girl with a bob of jet-black hair, a nose-stud and black eyeliner emerges. As she approaches the desk, the tag KAT-ANA is clearly visible on her back. She’s kinda cute, but no Lara Croft.

  A moment later, a door on level two slides aside. A mop of bright-orange hair blunders out. Beneath it is a tiny boy, his face red, eyes bloodshot.

  ‘That’s not fair!’ he shouts at Kat-Ana. ‘You punched me in the – Oh! Mr Power.’

  The Ginger Ninja salutes Vince before stiffly descending the stairs to the central desk. As Kat-Ana finishes her debrief, Vince beckons her over.

  ‘One of our rising stars,’ says Vince, laying a hand proudly on her shoulder.

  She nods coolly at us.

  Vince’s blue eyes sparkle roguishly. ‘Anyone brave enough to challenge her?’

  Pain Threshold

  My father’s SAS motto was: WHO DARES WINS.

  Not one to back down myself, whatever the odds, I step forward.

  Door 12 slides open and I clamber into a silver PlayPod.

  Vince Power and an Analyst join me in the room.

  ‘What are these for?’ I ask as the Analyst straps me into the seat with Velcro restraints.

  ‘This is a second-generation VK system,’ the Analyst explains. ‘Your brain won’t be able to tell what’s real and what isn’t. Until you’re used to VK2, your mind could instruct your own body, as well as the avatar’s. It’s just a precaution.’

  Frowning, I look to Vince for reassurance.

  ‘Any problems, press the red ESCAPE button on your avatar’s belt,’ he says, fixing me with his perfect smile. ‘It instantly cuts the connection with the VK server.’

  A red scanner passes across my face. The Hoody automatically slips down. A jolt of light combines with a sense of endless falling.

  My breath’s taken away as a forest bursts into life before my eyes.

  The Battle-rena is so vivid. So real. I can hear birds singing and the leaves rustling. Smell the scent of pine trees and spring flowers. Even feel a cool breeze on my face.

  It’s freaky. Like waking up from a dream.

  Looking down, I see the reassuring red pulse of the VK ESCAPE button on my belt. This is the gameworld.

  Kat-Ana’s waiting for me, her sword slung casually across her back. Close up, her avatar’s face looks just like hers. Mine must be the same. Our features scanned on.

  ‘Forgot your shirt, did we?’ she asks, strolling over.

  Glancing at my chest, I admire my rippling six-pack and toned muscles. I wear loose fighting slacks and black sneakers.

  Without warning, Kat-Ana kicks me in the stomach.

  I double up, winded. An upper-cut floors me. Searing pain rockets through my skull and I taste blood. In a blind panic, I stab at the ESCAPE button.

  The forest shrinks to a tiny dot. Then blinks out.

  As the Hoody comes off, I gasp, ‘Something’s wrong. I felt pain.’

  Vince grins knowingly. ‘Surely you’ve seen the advert.’

  SO REAL IT HURTS.

  I nod numbly.

  ‘This is what makes VK2 the most realistic fighting game ever. You experience both the exhilaration and the pain of a fight.’

  I rub my jaw where I still feel a dull throb.

  ‘Your body’s undamaged, but you may experience some after-effects as your brain readjusts,’ the Analyst informs me, checking my pulse. ‘This soon passes.’

  ‘But I wasn’t actually punched.’

  ‘With every successful strike, puzzle solved or kill made, the NeuroHood delivers electrical pulses that stimulate the release of endorphins. But get hit yourself and pain receptors are triggered instead.’

  ‘The carrot and the stick!’ Vince enthuses. ‘This makes for the ultimate gaming experience. Challenges, battles and Face-Offs have real meaning and tension. Winning results in enhanced elation. It’s addictive, the gamer never wants to lose – not at any cost.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ reassures the Analyst, gently pushing me back into the seat. ‘There’s a pre-set Pain Threshold Limiter installed in every program.’

  Reluctantly, I allow the Hoody to slip down. I blink and the forest returns.

  ‘Back for more?’ Kat-Ana laughs.

  She picks a pink flower, sniffs it, then slips the blossom into her avatar’s long, brown hair. In a sweet voice, she begins to sing ‘London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down …’

  I’m ready this time. Won’t be fooled by her softly-softly approach. I drop into fighting guard.

  Smiling, Kat-Ana launches herself at me. Her attack is brutal and I have to call on all my taekwondo skills. I palm-block her jab and counter with a backfist. She drives a knee into my gut and I feel a bruising crunch. At the same time, my life-bar flashes 90%.

  Kat-Ana attempts a roun
dhouse kick. I shin-block it and drop into a spinning sweep-kick. I catch her by the ankles, knocking her to the ground. A euphoric rush floods my body as Kat-Ana loses 20% of her life-bar.

  ‘You got skills for a newbie,’ admits Kat-Ana, flipping back to her feet. ‘But it won’t save you.’

  She drives into me. I buckle under her onslaught. 75%. Pain flares round my body as she lands strike after strike. 60%. I manage to counter and force her to retreat across the fight zone. Even manage to land a few hits myself. Endorphins wipe out the pain. But she’s too fast for me.

  Slipping to my outside, Kat-Ana roundhouse kicks me. 45%. A kidney punch then drops me to my knees. 35%.

  Before I can recover, Kat-Ana unsheathes her sword.

  ‘NO!’ I cry.

  But it’s too late. She slices off my head.

  ‘KILLING STRIKE!’

  I scream as white noise rips through me.

  Then nothing. I’m back in the real world.

  ‘Hmm … Not bad,’ says Vince as I emerge out of Door 12, dazed and rubbing my neck. ‘New kombatants rarely survive more than a few seconds.’

  To my mind it felt like seconds. But the digi-clock on the wall shows a plug-in time of over five minutes.

  A bell rings. ‘That’ll be lunch. This is where I say goodbye.’

  We salute Vince, and two guardians escort us back to the refectory. The place is crammed with kid kombatants. I spot Kat-Ana in the queue and go up to her.

  ‘No need to cut my head off!’ I protest, still feeling a hot itch where the blade went through my virtual neck.

  ‘Don’t be such a sore loser,’ she replies, passing me a tray. ‘It’s just a game. Anyway, with a face like yours, I was doing you a favour!’

  Before I can think of a comeback she says, ‘You should try the syn-fish,’ then blows me a kiss and walks away. ‘Tastes like the real thing.’

  The Catch

  ‘Here you are, luv,’ says the friendly guardian, smiling broadly as she dumps an extra helping of syn-fish on my plate. ‘Looks like you could do with building up.’