by Axie Oh
The glass of the pod fogs over, cracks of black ice creeping out of the corners. Soon all is black.
A sexless voice issues forth from the speakers inside the darkened pod. “State your name, please.”
“Lee Jaewon.”
“Welcome, Lee Jaewon. Your standing in your battle ranking is currently at one.”
I sit still as a needle in the pod is inserted into my neck, connecting with the small chip installed there and allowing the computer access to my brain. I feel myself black out, only to come awake a second later, a little addled from the transition.
I’m no longer in a pod. I’m sitting in the piloting seat of a mobile landcraft. I won’t know what kind of craft until the test begins. I hope it’s highTech, some sort of advanced fighter plane or a God Machine.
“You’re programmed to conduct Test 5061: The Tower. Commencing in five, four, three, two . . .”
07
God Machine
The screen lights up, and I gaze around at the terrain programmed for the simulation test. I’m inside a building with gray-blue walls. The landcraft I pilot faces a set of wide, floor-to-ceiling windows. I look out to see fair skies and a paved strip of land. Two or three planes — gutted of their parts — litter the field.
An airport.
The upper right corner of my screen shows a full green bar with a percentage to the left of it, recording my damage count. It’s currently full at 100 percent. The left bottom corner of the screen holds a circular map of the area. Six blinking green lights at the center of the map indicate the locations of my team members. There aren’t any red dots, which suggests hostiles haven’t arrived on the scene.
I turn my landcraft’s position from the window to see the rest of Alex’s assembled team spread out behind me.
Immediately I recognize the type of weapons we’ve been given to pilot. The massive, human-piloted machines of modern warfare.
God Machines.
This particular model of GM is type TK-009. Shaped like squat humans, weighing in at seven tons, and standing twelve and a half meters tall, TK-GMs were used during the early years of the wars in the Pacific as foot soldiers and scavengers. They have slow reaction times, but are highly defensive and resistant to the most powerful GM firearms.
Inside the cockpit, I tap a small symbol of a firearm at the bottom of the screen. A list of weapons in my inventory scrolls across the surface, complete with an image and description. My particular GM comes equipped with two massive knives, a power rifle with an extra magazine full of clips, and a pointed shield. Unless GM weapons can be found amongst the debris of the stage, these few weapons are all I’ll have to get through the test.
On the left panel of my screen, Seungri’s face pops up.
“I guess they want to test our knowledge of history as well as our aptitude. These GMs are from the First Act of the War. And mostly lowTech, by the look of it.” His voice is a little muted by a low murmur of static. Seungri’s GM moves its arms up and down, then rotates its torso sideways 180 degrees. Of the brothers, Seungri’s the younger. Even in the simulation, he wears his yellow beanie, the bright color differentiating him from Seungpyo.
He disappears from the screen, replaced by Jessica, her eyes smarting red at the corners. “Are we seriously going to ignore the fact that Alex just betrayed us? I’m sorry, I can’t — ”
She’s cut off as Alex’s face appears, his image canceling hers out. “We’ve already entered the test, Jessica. We can fight about this after. Concentrate on the matter at hand.” His words are clipped; his eyes are cold. I guess in some ways, Alex is like his father.
Jessica doesn’t respond.
Alex continues. “Everyone, listen closely. If the layout of the airport’s any indication, there’s a high chance we’re in Busan before the war.”
“Busan?” Seungpyo repeats. He moves his face closer to the camera, raising an eyebrow studded through with a metal bar. “What the hell you guys doin’?” His voice is low, laying on a thick Busan saturi.
“What the hell?” Seungri shouts, laughing.
I move my hand to the GM’s keyboard, downloading a map of prewar Busan. On the Korean peninsula, Busan is the second-largest city after Seoul, located the farthest south. I’ve never been to Busan in the Real, but I’ve gone through enough simulations that feature the port city as a setting to know what to expect.
“Since Busan borders the Strait,” Alex says, “there’s a high probability we’ll have enemies coming at us from the water. Our GMs are so old they lack air mobility, and if you get pushed or dragged into the water, the thrusters won’t ignite. You’ll sink straight to the bottom of any deep water. That’d be game over. In here and in real life.”
“Gah,” Seungpyo yells. His face doesn’t show up on my screen.
Alex resumes speaking. “Our objectives are about to arrive, and there’s a high probability they’ll involve not only rooting out all enemies and destroying them, but also getting to some announced goal that will force one of us to leave our GMs and enter a building. This will be your moment, Jaewon. You’re plugged into body movement as well as piloting. You’ll be able to leave your GM during the simulation in order to achieve whatever final goal they’ll set up.”
“Eh.” As I speak, I know my face is showing up on all their screens, due to the voice-activated video system. “Tell me again why I have to put my life on the line, and not you?”
“You’re ranked first in battle rankings,” Alex says, “and you’re our Runner.” I can see his smirk through the pixelated screen. “Suck it.”
“Oh, Lee Jaewon,” Seungri says, “you’re my goddamn hero!”
“Jaewon-ssi,” Sela says, for the first time adding to the conversation. Her pink hair and pink-tipped eyelashes contrast with the bluish light given off by the screen.
“Holy crap!” Seungri shouts. “It’s like watching a music video!”
Seungpyo laughs so hard that his face actually appears on my screen, flickering in and out.
“Jaewon-ssi,” Sela repeats, insistent. “Be careful.”
I nod, which she can’t see. The simulation only picks up voice messages. “Alex,” I say, “give us some more probabilities. What’s the probability that we’ll all survive?”
“Thirty-eight point nine-eight-three percent.”
That shuts us up.
Our screens light up with words and the sound of the standard computerized voice.
Objective 1: Defeat all hostiles.
Objective 2: Find the Tower.
Objective 3: Defuse the explosive.
Objective 4: Rescue the hostage.
Seungpyo pops up on my screen. “What the hell?”
“But there’s no friggin’ Tower in Busan.” Seungri shows up on my screen with a frown. “It got destroyed during the first battle of the Great War.”
Seungpyo adds, “Four. Four. Four. Four objectives. Bad luck. Bad luck. Bad luck. Bad luck.”
“Ya!” Jessica yells. “Do not make me kill all of you for being hostile to this mission!”
Alex’s face appears again, glowering through the screen. “There’s a high probability that Objective Two will be evident once we leave the airport. The Tower will be a tall building in the city, presumably. The bomb and hostages will be inside. No Seungpyo, No Seungri, block for Lee Jaewon. When we’re out, Jessica, position yourself in a concealed spot with the best view of the city. Snipe for offense. Sela, stay with Jessica. Let’s move out.”
I slowly tip the lever of my control forward. My GM rolls toward the exit of the airport, leaving overturned luggage and smashed carts in its wake. I’m glad there aren’t any simulated bodies on the floor. Even in a simulation, the cracking of bones beneath wheels isn’t a heartwarming sound.
Outside, I can smell the odor of Busan’s old fish markets. Seungpyo’s and Seungri’s TKs clunk
over cars beside mine, the boys obviously enjoying the way their massive God Machines crush all obstacles in their path. They better be careful not to ruin the link that keeps their wheels balanced. Unlike the more highTech GMs used by elite soldiers at the war front, ones with mobile legs or powered thrusters for air mobility, TK-GMs have wheels with tracks like tanks — slow-moving and more easily disassembled.
We head southeast from the airport, over a highway riddled with the shells of cars. It seems to be the best direction to take, as the highway leads into a denser part of the city. I can see the red lights of Seungri’s and Seungpyo’s scanners honing in on suspicious elements in the debris of Busan’s broken buildings. We’re heading downhill, scanning the terrain for any tall buildings that could be the Tower.
I’m in the front with Alex.
“There’s a parking structure,” Jessica says, her face visible on my screen. “It looks intact. Sela and I will get positioned up top.” The girls break away from our group.
I check the left-corner map again to see if any red dots have appeared, but it’s still just the six of us, our green dots blinking in the black.
As for the streets of Busan, I’m impressed with whoever designed this simulation. The details of the city are extraordinary, the many signs in both Hangeul and English. Glancing through the windows of apartments, I can see low tables, cabinets, and beds, sheets twisted as if slept in. There’s even legible graffiti on some of the walls. I stop to read the nearest slanting words.
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
The first shot comes out of nowhere, clipping my GM in the shoulder. My damage count bar blinks red for a moment before recalculating itself at 97 percent working capacity.
“Watch out!” Alex shouts. “Snipers on the rooftops up ahead and incoming hostiles down the street.”
Loud gunshots ring out from behind — Jessica picking off the enemy snipers. Several GMs fall from their perched positions atop the low rooftops. They shatter into pixelation as they hit the ground, this particular simulation programmed not to burden the ground with metal carcasses.
Red dots emerge on the circle map at the bottom of the screen, where there hadn’t been any before.
I count thirty of them total.
Seungri groans. “Why do they give us a map if it doesn’t even work?”
Alex’s face appears. “The enemy is here. All GMs. Type RL-003s. Second Act models. I’m forwarding you their stats.”
At the left of my screen, a message icon pops up.
I tap it, revealing an array of technical diagrams — the front, back, and side of a standard RL-003. Numbered extensions branching off the diagram pinpoint the RL’s strengths and weaknesses.
Alex’s voice accompanies the images. “Each GM comes equipped with machine guns on both arms and homing missiles at the shoulders. Some might have an additional knife hidden beneath the left gun.”
I tap on the knife to enlarge it. It’s a standard GM army knife, a long, wicked-looking blade.
“No Seungpyo,” Alex says, addressing the older twin, “you and Seungri need to get Lee Jaewon in close. The enemy won’t be able to defend against melee attacks.”
“Roger that,” Seungpyo and Seungri say together, saluting the cam.
“Jessica,” Alex says, “snipe to kill. Through the chest, if you can.”
“I can,” Jessica responds. “And I will.” She cuts off her transmission.
“Lee Jaewon.” Alex’s face hardens when addressing me. Or maybe it’s a carryover; maybe he actually feels bad about betraying Jessica.
I sweep the diagrams off my screen, clearing my view of the imminent battlefield.
“Concentrate on the cluster of GMs up ahead. Leave the rest to Jessica and me.”
I’m too focused to respond, my mind calculating the best way to proceed — only to disregard thought altogether. There is no best way. A fight is a fight. We’ll just have to break through.
Flanked by the brothers, I move forward down the narrow street, leaving Alex to pick up the rear. Both Seungpyo’s and Seungri’s GMs come equipped with massive tower shields, almost the full length of their GMs. They lift their shields on either side of me, blocking the three of us from the bullets barraging down the street.
I measure the distance between the sounds of the shots and our GMs rolling forward at high speeds. The louder the gunshots, the closer we are to the enemy.
Eight hundred meters.
I move my GM’s shield to its back.
Five hundred meters.
I flip out the blades attached beneath its forearms. The blades are thick, made of a metal alloy stronger than steel, each the length of my GM’s arm.
Two hundred meters.
The shots are at their loudest, bullets slicing through the gap between the brothers’ shields.
One hundred meters.
I propel my GM free from its position in the middle, lifting the blades, arcing them high above my head.
We crash into the front line of hostiles.
Seungpyo and Seungri use the strength of their GMs to push me through the crush, bashing the hostile GMs with their shields. I ram my blade into the helm of an RL to my left. The helm explodes and careens backward.
A long-bladed knife slips through the barrier, trying to gut me in the side. I swerve my GM at the last moment, and the knife misses. I twist and grab the arm holding the blade, ripping it off.
“We’ll funnel ’em,” Seungri shouts, making a wall with his and Seungpyo’s shields. They let through one, then two GMs at a time, controlling the flow of the battle so they’re not all on me at once. I decapitate the first GM through the gap, pushing my sword into the chest of the next. Pilots of GMs are located in the chest. Significant damage to that area would effectively cut off the GM’s movements. You don’t stop a God Machine by tearing off its head, but by ripping out its heart.
The brothers move ahead, their shields pushing back the RLs. Once they’ve broken up the enemy’s positioning, they open up, letting more GMs through for me to destroy.
It’s slow progress, but it’s a working strategy.
Alex dispatches the GMs that get by our line of defense, crushing each in the chest with his sword, yelling out orders to the team as we progress down the alley. “Take a right at the bend. Incoming missile, east side. Seungri, watch your left. Your bot’s sparking.”
“Ah, I see it.” Seungri pops up on the screen chewing a piece of gum. “Hyeong,” he says, addressing his brother, “let’s switch sides in the next bout. You take the left.”
Seungpyo answers, “How the hell are you chewing gum? We’re in a friggin’ simulation.”
Seungri bursts into laughter. He’s laughing so hard he doesn’t see the hostile GM behind him. I move to block it, stabbing downward into its neck with my blade. It falls over, sparking against the cement. “Stay focused,” I say into my comm. “We’re almost at the end of the road.”
Seungri’s response: “Was that a metaphor? I believe we just turned a corner, literally and figuratively.”
Gritting my teeth, I break away from behind the brothers’ defense, swerving my GM through the staggered enemies. I dispatch machine after machine, keeping close watch on my damage count. When I finally break through the line, I’m at 89 percent.
Behind me, Jessica takes out the rest of the GMs in our vicinity, shooting through the central cockpits of the GMs’ armored chests where the virtual pilot sits.
Seungri rolls to a stop alongside me. “Way to blast us with your bot dust,” he says, spitting his gum out at the camera. It hits the lens, sticking.
Seungpyo rolls to my other side. “Stop showing off. We get it; you’re good at simulations.”
“Lee Jaewon,” Alex growls from behind us, “don’t rush ahead like that again. Stay with Seungpyo and Seungri. They’re there to bloc
k for you.” He pushes through our GMs, taking the lead.
We follow him, leaving the congested area of the main city and coming out onto a short ledge overlooking the rest of Busan’s lower city. Shielded as we were between the tall buildings, we hadn’t seen the city’s waterfront.
“Ai — shhh,” Seungpyo curses. “Who said it was gonna be easy?”
The entire oceanfront is lined with GMs. Not just any type, but Third Act GMs — type H-100s, better known as Hydros. The Neo Alliance currently uses Hydros at the war front. It’s the NSK’s main offensive naval weapon. A platoon of them took down the entire South Chinese fleet last month in one of the most decisive battles of the war.
Seungri scowls. “Why can’t we avoid the water?”
I look past the beach to a small island positioned several hundred meters out — the only way to get there a long stone bridge. There’s a tall structure on the island.
“The lighthouse,” I say, resigned. “The lighthouse is the Tower.”
The realization of what we’ll have to accomplish hits everyone at the same time.
Seungri laughs shakily. “There go my future wife and kids.”
I grimace. I don’t like giving up before the end, but Seungri’s words have some truth to them. At this point, surviving this test seems close to impossible. We’re piloting out-of-date lowTech GMs against a horde of state-of-the-art highTech GMs.
Alex’s face shows up on our screens, his eyes flashing. “Your life is your own until it’s not.” He propels his GM forward, making his way down the sloping road toward the lower city.
There’s a pause.
“Wait,” Seungpyo says. “What did he just say? When did Alex become Tsuko? Spouting words of wisdom like he’s freaking Confucius.”
Shaking my head, I turn my GM. The sound of Seungri’s laughter follows me down into the lower city.
* * *
■ ■ ■
Jessica and Sela join us at the bottom of the slope, their GMs mostly undamaged. We’re still several hundred meters away from the GMs we saw, out of their line of sight for now.
