I felt bad for the guy. His life was a fantasy. He had no memories of real live friends or loved ones. Everything important to him was made up in his head. Worse than that, I was going to have to tell him that it wouldn’t last.
“We need your help, Dr. Zetlin,” I said.
Zetlin pulled himself away from the window. He was suddenly a young boy again, full of energy. He hurried to the control chair and plopped down in it.
“Right,” he said. “You said something about a virus corrupting the processing code. That, I’m afraid, is impossible.”
He hit a few keys on his controller and a stream of data appeared on the large monitor overhead.
“It’s not impossible,” I insisted. “The virus has totally infected Lifelight. It mutates people’s thoughts. Instead of giving them the ideal experience, it finds what they’re afraid of and hurts them. The phaders had to suspend the grid or a lot of people would—”
“They suspended the grid?” Zetlin asked in surprise.
“Yes! All over Veelox, people are in limbo waiting—”
“I know what it means,” Zetlin snapped at me. He hit a few more keys and examined more data. He then stood up and announced, “I see no evidence of anything wrong.”
“That’s because your jump is isolated,” I said. “Look, I’m on shaky ground here. I don’t really know how this works.”
“Then what are you doing here?” he demanded. “What kind of phader are you?”
“We’re not phaders,” I answered nervously. “We’re here to tell you that unless we get the origin code, millions of people across Veelox are going to die.”
Zetlin looked me square in the eye. “You have not convinced me,” he said. “I believe this virus does not exist; therefore I will not give you the origin code. Good-bye.”
Our mission was about to fail miserably. I had no idea of what to say or do to turn it around. But then we heard a familiar voice come from across the room.
“The virus is real,” it said.
We all spun to see Aja. “I know it’s real, because I created it. I’m a phader, and I may be responsible for the deaths of millions of people across Veelox.”
“I know you!” Zetlin said to Aja. “You’re one of the phaders from Rubic City. What is going on here? Why have these people invaded my privacy?”
Aja looked nervous. She was facing the big boss and didn’t have good things to tell him.
“My name is Aja Killian,” she said, her voice cracking. “I apologize, Dr. Zetlin. I would never think of entering your jump if it weren’t a dire emergency. I sent my friends to find you because I need to be in the Alpha Core to hold back the Reality Bug.”
“Reality Bug?” Zetlin shouted angrily. He looked like his head was about to explode. For a second I thought he was going to really tee off on Aja, but he got his emotions under control and spoke calmly. “Please explain,” he demanded.
Aja hesitated. I’m sure the idea of telling the most important man in the history of Veelox that his invention was on the verge of blowing a major fuse was pretty tough. Aja’s rock-solid self-confidence was looking pretty shaky.
“It’s okay, Aja,” I said, trying to give her encouragement. “Tell him what’s going on.”
“Veelox is in danger,” she said nervously. “Dr. Zetlin, since you jumped into Lifelight, the people of Veelox have abandoned reality. They prefer to live in the fantasy of Lifelight than in their own lives.”
“I don’t blame them,” Zetlin said.
“But you should!” Aja said with passion. “Your invention was supposed to give people a break from reality, not replace it. Our cities are abandoned. Food is disappearing. People don’t communicate with real people anymore, they’re too busy living inside their own heads and creating characters to act in their own personal dramas. Nothing is happening. Nothing is moving forward. Nothing is real. Veelox is dead.”
Zetlin dismissed this and asked, “What is this Reality Bug?”
Now came the really tough part for Aja. I hoped she wouldn’t get into the whole story about Travelers and Saint Dane, because right now, it didn’t matter.
“I couldn’t stand to let Veelox die,” she said. “So I wrote a program. The idea was to make the jumps less than perfect. The program attached to the data stream of each jumper to alter the experience slightly. I thought that if the jumps became less than perfect, people wouldn’t spend so much time in them and would choose to return to their real lives.”
Zetlin nodded. His jaw muscles clenched. He had just heard that somebody had sabotaged his life’s work. I had to give him credit, he kept his head on straight and didn’t go nuts on Aja. At least not yet.
“But this … program … didn’t work the way you planned?” he asked calmly, though he said the word “program” with total disdain.
Aja swallowed hard and said, “No. The Reality Bug was far more powerful than I thought. It acted like a wild virus that spread through the grid. Not only did it alter the jumps, it made them hyperrealistic. The jumps became dangerous. We couldn’t stop it and had to suspend the grid. Now most everyone on Veelox is in limbo, waiting for me to purge the Reality Bug.”
“And for that you need the origin code,” Zetlin concluded.
Aja nodded. “There’s one more thing,” she said. “Since my friends entered your jump, I’ve been desperately programming firewalls into the alpha grid to keep the Reality Bug out of your jump. It’s coming after you, sir. Every time I throw one up, the virus mutates and finds a way around my block. I don’t know how much longer I can keep fooling it. Sooner or later, the Reality Bug is going to find its way into your jump, and you’ll be in danger too.”
Oh, great. That was a fairly crappy piece of news.
Zetlin stared at Aja’s image for a moment, weighing what she had said. He then turned and sat back down in his control chair. “I won’t give you the code,” he said with finality.
Uh-oh.
“You must!” Loor demanded. “Holding it back is suicide. No, it is genocide.”
“I told you before,” he snapped. “I won’t go back. If Lifelight is destroyed, so be it. Whoever survives will rebuild Veelox. I don’t care one way or the other. This is my reality now. I’ll deal with whatever it throws at me.”
“But I can stop it from happening,” Aja shouted. “I can save Lifelight.”
“From what you tell me,” Zetlin said, “Lifelight shouldn’t be saved.”
“But at what cost?” I asked. “The deaths of millions?”
“I have accepted Lifelight as my reality,” Zetlin explained calmly. “To me, Veelox doesn’t exist. I will only deal with the reality of my life here. I belong here in the Barbican, with these people, in this body, with this life.”
“But it’s a life you don’t deserve,” I said.
Zetlin shot me a look. I didn’t know where I was going with this, but I had to do something to get him to give up that code.
“How can you say that?” he asked defensively, jumping to his feet. “I built Lifelight.”
“So what?” I continued. “From what I can see, it’s all just math. Being good at math doesn’t earn you a perfect life. What about the people around here? These are the only people in your life. Your only friends. Do you think they really care about you?”
“Of course they do,” Zetlin answered quickly.
“Why? Because you’re the Z? The guy who races with them and plays games and throws parties? Is that why they care?”
“That’s exactly why,” Zetlin said with confidence. “They love me.”
“But they aren’t real,” I said. “You created them. They’re puppets who do what you say. You could be a monster and they’d still love you. You took the easy way out, Zetlin. Instead of repairing your real life, you lost yourself in a fantasy. Don’t you get lonely?”
Zetlin’s eyes darted around the room. I was getting to him. To be honest, I think part of it was the Traveler in me at work.
“Lonely?” he said, sou
nding shaky. “I am surrounded by friends. We have tournaments and games. I’m the champion slickshot racer!”
“Sure you are!” I shot back. “I’ll bet you’re the champion at everything. It’s easy when all you have to do is imagine it. I’ll bet nobody ever says no to you, do they?”
This question really threw Zetlin. He didn’t have to answer it.
“There’s nobody to challenge you,” I said softly. “Nobody to argue with. Nobody to push you and help you find new ideas. For a guy like you, that sounds like death.”
Zetlin shot me a look. I had definitely hit a chord.
“You know what reality is for you?” I added. “You’re lying in a tube being fed by machines. You’re a living corpse. And you know the worst part? Your invention is doing the same thing to the rest of Veelox. Aja’s Reality Bug may have backfired, but at least she was doing something to try and save Veelox. The whole world is on life support, barely breathing. Veelox is going to die, just like you. If that happens, your life wasn’t miserable, it was tragic.”
Zetlin staggered back and fell into his control chair. I had slammed him pretty hard.
Aja’s image walked over to Zetlin. She stood over him and spoke reassuringly.
“Please, Dr. Zetlin,” she said. “You are a great man. I would love to meet you as you are, not as a memory of yourself. I want to shake your hand and say how much I admire you.”
Aja put out her hand. Zetlin looked up at her. His eyes were red, as if on the verge of tears. He reached out to touch Aja, but his hand went right through hers. Aja was only an image created by Lifelight. There was no human contact.
“Come back, Dr. Zetlin,” she added. “Help rebuild Veelox.”
Zetlin slowly turned and faced his computer array. Aja glanced over at me with a hopeful look. Had we gotten through to him?
“Zero,” Zetlin said softly, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.
“Excuse me?” Aja asked.
“I said zero. That’s the origin code.”
“Zero?” I repeated. “That’s it? Just … zero?”
Zetlin gave a sly smile. “The phaders are a clever bunch. I knew they would try to crack the code, and I knew they would expect it to be a complex string of commands.”
Aja smiled and said, “You really are brilliant.”
“Am I?” Zetlin asked.
“I’m going to purge the Reality Bug,” Aja said. An instant later, her image disappeared.
“And then what happens?” Zetlin asked. “If Veelox is in such bad shape, all this will do is clear the way for its continued decline.”
“That’s the next problem,” I said. “There has to be a way to use Lifelight without letting it control people’s lives.”
“If I may say so,” Loor added. “If you could help Veelox find that balance, you would truly go down in history as a great man.”
“Perhaps,” Zetlin said, then looked at me. “Real life is so much more difficult than fantasy.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “But fantasy doesn’t last.”
Zetlin stood up and walked over to the big glass wall to look out onto his dreary city. I couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his mind.
Suddenly the monitor jumped to life with an image of Aja. She was sitting in her control chair in the Alpha Core.
“We’ve got trouble,” she said, all business.
“With the origin code?” I asked.
“No, that worked perfectly,” she answered. “I went right to the processing code and cleaned the string. I totally purged the Reality Bug from Lifelight.”
“Then what is the problem?” Loor asked.
“The grid went back online by itself,” she explained. “I didn’t do a thing. It just happened.”
“So everyone on Veelox is back in their jumps?” I asked.
“Yes.” Aja’s voice started to crack. She sounded scared. “But something else is happening. As soon as everyone went back online, huge amounts of data began flowing from all the Lifelight pyramids to the Alpha Core.”
“Data? What does that mean, Aja?” I asked, trying not to get too freaked out.
“I … I’m not sure.”
We watched as Aja quickly input a series of commands and then checked her control monitor. There was tension in her eyes. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good.
“This is impossible,” she said, her panic growing. “Data from all over Veelox is streaming directly toward the alpha grid.”
“Alpha grid,” Loor repeated. “What is this alpha grid?”
“The alpha grid is where we are,” Zetlin answered, stepping up behind us.
Uh-oh.
“Killian,” Zetlin said, “the firewalls you created to repel this Reality Bug, are they still in place?”
“Yes, but it’s like … it’s like the data is swarming. No, it’s attacking the alpha grid and dismantling the firewalls. I can’t reprogram them fast enough.”
While she spoke, Aja kept making rapid-fire keystrokes on her control panel.
“Could it be the Reality Bug?” I asked.
“No!” Aja screamed back from the monitor. “I cleaned the string. It should be gone. The Reality Bug is—”
The image on the monitor began to crumble. The picture flipped and twisted and changed until another face appeared on screen. It was the last face I wanted to see.
It was Saint Dane.
“Who is that?” demanded Zetlin.
“You don’t want to know” was all I could answer.
“Hello, all you desperate little Travelers,” Saint Dane chuckled. “If you’re seeing this recording, it means you’ve tried to purge the virus from Lifelight. Congratulations for getting so close! There’s just one little problem. The virus cannot be deleted. I made sure of that. In fact, trying to delete it, only multiplies its strength. Right about now, every jumper on Veelox is feeding the virus. Imagine having to battle the fears of everyone on the territory? Well, come to think of it, you won’t have to imagine it at all. You’re going to get the chance! I can’t wait to return to Veelox and see what damage my last little surprise has wrought. Until then, sweet dreams!”
Saint Dane’s image on the monitor was replaced by the sight of a zillion different numbers flashing by at lightning speed. Then every light on the control console began to glow brighter. Dr. Zetlin furiously input commands on his control column. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t working.
“Nothing is responding,” he announced.
“It’s like an overload,” I suggested. “There’s too much data for the computers to handle.”
The lights on the control console intensified, blinding us. We all covered our eyes and it was a good thing we did, because a second later, the large monitor over the control chair exploded. Boom! Loor grabbed Zetlin by the back of his jumpsuit and pulled him out of his chair as a wave of shattered glass hit the seat.
All three of us cowered, afraid that something else explosive might happen. Smoke filled the room, along with the smell of burning plastic. We huddled together and cautiously peered through the smoke to see an eerie sight.
The control console had gone dark. Every light was out. The monitor was nothing more than a jagged, smoking hole in the wall. We all stood, stunned, staring at the destroyed console.
But there was more.
“What is that?” Loor asked curiously, pointing down.
On the floor, covered in bits of glass from the destroyed monitor, was a black pile of goo about the size of a soft ball. It was as if a soft piece of tar had been spit out of the control panel when it exploded.
“Is that a piece from the console?” I asked.
“No,” Zetlin answered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I took a step forward to get a closer look. But as soon as I approached it, the odd substance began to move. It was alive! I jumped back, as if it were diseased. For all I knew, it was.
“Tell me this is part of your fantasy,” I said to Zetlin.
> “I have no idea what it could be,” Zetlin answered.
Bad answer.
The writhing black goo began to take on different shapes. A chunk grew out from the top, pushed toward the ceiling like a growing plant. It rose up a few inches, then formed what looked like a snarling mouth on the end of a black stalk! The mouth opened, revealing a set of sharp black teeth. The teeth snapped shut and the mouth sank back down into the black ooze to become part of the glob once more.
“That was … gross,” I croaked.
The goo continued to writhe and squirm. We saw an eyeball peek out of one side, wink, then sink back into the muck. A tiny black fist then poked its way out, flexed its fingers, then pulled back into the mass. Then a sharp, spike-looking thing poked out of the side and retracted.
The three of us stood watching in awe. It was hideous and fascinating at the same time.
“It’s like living clay,” I said. “It’s molding itself.”
As I said that, the entire black form changed into what looked like an animal. In seconds, lying before us, no more than six inches high, was a cat-looking beast with two large heads, each of which had huge fangs. The form lay on its side, writhing like a newborn. It was solid black, but as it moved, the surface subtly changed texture. For a moment it looked like fur, but it quickly changed back into black goo. It even croaked out a ratty sound.
The instant the cat image was revealed, I felt Loor stiffen beside me.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her.
“It is a zhou beast,” she exclaimed. “From Zadaa.”
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Dr. Zetlin, have you ever seen something like that?”
“Never,” was his emphatic reply.
“Then it came out of your head, Loor,” I said. “You know what that means?”
“It means it’s here,” came a sober voice near us.
We all turned to see Aja’s image standing there. “It broke through the firewall,” she said, sounding as if she were in shock. “I couldn’t hold it back.”
The Reality Bug Page 26
