The Mortality Doctrine 01: The Eye of Minds

by James Dashner

  “Stop it!” the stranger screamed this time. “Stop acting like a child and calm yourself. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  “You’re actually hurting me right now,” Michael coughed out.

  The man loosened his grip. “Behave, and that’s the worst of it. Do we have a deal, kid?”

  “Fine,” Michael grunted, because what else could he do? Ask for time to think about it?

  The man seemed to relax at that. “Good. Now sit back and shut up,” he directed. “Wait, no, first apologize to my friend—that was totally uncalled for.”

  Michael looked over at the guy to his left and shrugged. “Sorry. Hope you can still have babies.”

  The man didn’t respond, but his glare through the ski mask was fierce. Humbled by the man’s anger, Michael looked away. The adrenaline had faded, his strength was exhausted, and he was being driven through the city by four men in black masks.

  Things didn’t look so bright.

  7

  The rest of the ride went by in complete silence. Michael’s heart, however, continued to thump away like a heavy-metal drumbeat. He thought he’d known fear before. He’d been thrown into countless horrific situations in the VirtNet that had felt perfectly real. But this was real. And the fear was beyond anything he’d experienced. He wondered if he would drop dead of cardiac arrest at the ripe old age of sixteen.

  As if in mockery, every glance outside seemed to land on those red-on-black Lifeblood Deep posters. Even though the tiny optimistic side of his brain kept trying to tell him that somehow he’d get out of this alive, he knew that being kidnapped by masked men usually didn’t end well. The signs only reminded him that his dream of reaching the Deep probably wouldn’t happen after all.

  Finally, they reached the outskirts of the city and turned into the huge parking lot of the stadium where the Falcons played. It was completely empty, and the driver pulled to the very front row, where he stopped and set the emergency brake, the massive structure looming above them. A sign in the front of the parking space read RESERVED. VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED.

  A beep sounded from somewhere in the car, followed by a crack from outside, then the whir of machinery. Immediately afterward the vehicle started to sink into the ground, and Michael’s heart leaped. As they descended, the brightness of day quickly melted into fluorescent interior lighting.

  Finally, the car came to rest with a soft bump, and Michael looked around to see that they were in a huge underground garage with at least a dozen cars parked along one wall. The driver released the emergency brake and pulled into an empty spot, then cut the engine.

  “We’re here,” the driver announced. Rather needlessly, Michael thought.

  8

  They offered Michael two options: they could drag him by the feet, facedown, for a close-up view of the cement, or he could walk with them under his own power without trying anything. He chose the second option. As they marched next to him, his heart kept trying to break through his rib cage with its relentless pounding.

  The four men escorted him through a door, down a hallway, then through another door into a large conference room. At least, he assumed that was what it was, based on the long cherrywood table, plush leather chairs, and lit bar in the corner. He was surprised to see only one person waiting for them: a woman. She was tall with long black hair and wide-set, exotic-looking eyes—somehow she was gorgeous and terrifying at the same time.

  “Leave him with me,” she said. Four words, softly spoken, but the men practically dove out the door, closing it behind them, as if they feared her beyond anything else.

  Those striking eyes focused on Michael’s face. “My name is Diane Weber, but you’ll refer to me as Agent Weber. Please, have a seat.” She gestured toward the chair closest to Michael, and it took every ounce of his willpower to hesitate before he sat. He forced himself to count to five, staring at her, trying not to look away. Then he did as she asked.

  She came over and sat next to him, then crossed her long, pretty legs. “Sorry for the roughhousing to get you here. What we’re about to discuss is extremely urgent and confidential, and I didn’t want to waste any time … asking.”

  “I’m missing school. Asking would’ve worked just fine.” Somehow she’d put him at ease, which made him angry. It was clear that she was manipulative, that she used her beauty to melt men’s hearts. “What could you possibly want me for, anyway?”

  Her smile revealed perfect teeth. “You’re a gamer, Michael. With serious coding skills.”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No, it’s a statement. I’m telling you why you’re here because you asked. I know more about you than you do. Understand?”

  Michael coughed—had all his hacking finally caught up to him? “I’m here because I’m a gamer?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Because I like to dink around in the Sleep and code a little? What’d I do, knock you out of first place somewhere? Steal from your virtual restaurant?”

  “You’re here because we need you.”

  The words brought with them a sudden shot of bravery. “Look, I don’t think my mom would approve of me dating an older woman. Have you tried the love shacks? I’m sure a good-lookin’ gal like yourself could find—”

  A look of such quick and sudden anger burned across her face that Michael shut his mouth, then apologized before he had time to think.

  “I work for the VNS,” she said, calm and cool once again. “We have a serious problem inside the VirtNet and we need help. We’re also very aware of your hacking skills, and those of your friends. But if you don’t think you can bring yourself to stop acting like a ten-year-old, I’ll move on to the next person in line.”

  Somehow in only three sentences she’d made Michael feel like a complete idiot. And now all he wanted in the world was to know what she was talking about. “Fine, I’m sorry. Getting kidnapped kind of shakes up a dude. From here on out I’ll be good.”

  “That’s more like it.” She paused, uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. “Now, I’m about to tell you three words, and if you ever repeat these three words to another human being without our explicit direction, the most optimistic outcome for you will be lifetime in a prison that, as far as the general population is concerned, doesn’t exist.”

  Curiosity hummed through Michael, but her words made him pause. “So you won’t kill me?”

  “There are worse things than death, Michael,” she said with a frown.

  He stared at her, half wanting to beg her to let him go without saying another word. But his curiosity won out. “Okay. No repeating … Hit me.”

  Her lower lip trembled slightly when she said it, as if the phrase shook her somewhere deep inside: “The Mortality Doctrine.”

  9

  The room sank into silence—complete and absolute—and Agent Weber stared at him.

  What could those three words possibly mean that they could cost him his freedom? “Am I missing something?” he asked. “The Mortality Doctrine? What is that?”

  Agent Weber leaned forward, her face somehow growing even more intense than before. “Hearing the words has committed you to joining us.”

  Michael shrugged—it was the only thing he felt safe doing.

  “But I need to hear you say it,” she said. “I need to hear your commitment. We need your skills in the VirtNet.”

  That little boost of pride brought Michael back to himself a bit. “I want to know what it is.”

  “That’s more like it.” She leaned back and the tension in the room seemed to lift. “The Mortality Doctrine. At this moment we know very little. It’s something hidden in the VirtNet—somewhere off the known grid. A file or program of some sort that could seriously damage not just the VirtNet, but the real world as well.”

  “Sounds promising,” Michael muttered, immediately regretting it. Luckily, she let it pass. The truth was that he’d perked up at the notion of a secret part of the VirtNet. He wanted to know where it was.

  “This … do
ctrine could devastate humanity and the world as we know it. Tell me, Michael, have you heard of the gamer who calls himself Kaine?”

  The name made Michael’s heart lurch. The girl, Tanya. Her face came back to him, as well as her words. How Kaine was tormenting her. Michael gripped the sides of his chair because it suddenly felt like he was falling off the bridge all over again. How did all these things relate?

  “I know of Kaine,” he said. “I saw a girl kill herself.… She mentioned him.…”

  “Yes, we know,” Agent Weber acknowledged. “That’s a small part of the reason you’re here. You’re a witness to how bad things are getting. We’ve been able to tie Kaine to this Mortality Doctrine, and it’s all linked to cases like what you saw happen. People trapped in the VirtNet and driven to decoding their own Cores. It’s the worst cyber-terrorism we’ve ever come across.”

  “Why am I here?” Michael asked in a dry croak, feeling an embarrassing lack of confidence. “How can I help?”

  She was silent for a beat. “We’ve found people comatose inside their Coffins. CAT scans reveal brain damage—as if they were the victims of some sick experiment. They are complete vegetables.” She paused again. “We have evidence that Kaine’s involved. And somehow it’s all related to this Mortality Doctrine program hidden somewhere inside the VirtNet. We need to find both the man and the Mortality Doctrine. Will you help us?”

  She asked it so simply, as if she was asking him to make a quick trip to the store for some milk and bread. Michael wanted to run. Actually, he wanted a lot of things just then—time travel would’ve been great, he thought—but more realistically, he wanted his room and his bed, his Coffin, escape to some brainless sports game, beginner level, Dan the Man Deli, bleu chips, hanging out with Bryson and Sarah, a movie, a book, his mom and dad back from traveling, and to never hear about this again.

  But one word popped out of his mouth, and he didn’t know he meant it until he heard himself say it.

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 3

  A DARK PLACE

  1

  Michael had barely closed his mouth when Agent Weber stood up so abruptly that her chair flipped backward.

  Michael jumped, surprised at her reaction. “Was I supposed to say no?”

  But she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the door, her hand held to her ear as if she was listening to some kind of device planted there. “Something’s wrong,” she said. “You were followed.”

  Michael got to his feet, shaken by how quickly this woman had gone from terrifying to terrified. “Followed? By who?” he asked.

  “You don’t want to know, Michael. Come on.”

  She didn’t wait for his response. Without another word she charged for the door. Michael went after her, and soon they were out in the hall, surrounded by several armed guards. This time without the ridiculous black masks.

  “Get him back home,” Agent Weber directed, in charge again. “And make sure no one sees you do it.”

  A man and a woman appeared, took Michael by the arm, and started leading him down the hallway.

  “Wait!” he yelled, struggling to put together the sudden turn of events. “Wait! You barely told me anything!”

  Heels clicking along the tile floor, Agent Weber approached him. “Tell your friends what I just told you. Bryson and Sarah. No one else. No one. Do you understand me? Tell anyone—even your parents—and we’ll erase them.”

  That last bit shifted everything inside of him to anger. “Erase them?”

  “I need the three of you to dig, Michael,” she said, ignoring him. “I suggest you start in the darkest, seediest places inside the VirtNet. Ask around, follow the rumors. I need you to find where Kaine’s hiding out—it’s the only way we can learn the complete truth behind the Mortality Doctrine and how he plans to use it. Do whatever it takes. You have the skills. We’ll have tracers on you and we’ll follow you in once you’ve discovered where he’s hiding it. Help us solve this problem and you’ll be set for life, whatever you want. We have others searching, too. Get there first and you’ll be rewarded.”

  His mouth opened—to say what, he had no idea—but she’d already turned and was making her way back down the hall.

  “Let’s go,” one of the guards said.

  They pulled Michael along in the opposite direction.

  2

  They didn’t go back to the car. The guards—they didn’t say one word to Michael the entire time—escorted him down countless hallways until they came out of an old abandoned building next to a subway station, where they left him. People milled about, the sun shone down through a break in the clouds, and a candy wrapper floated through the air on the breeze. The world had gone along exactly as before, while his life had just changed forever.

  Going to school was furthest thing from his mind. Dazed and scared, Michael wandered to a coffee shop and got the biggest cup they had. Then to the train station and home. The first thing he did there was arrange a meeting for the next day with Bryson and Sarah. He gave them just enough information to get them interested—he knew if he told them too much, they wouldn’t sleep, and he had a feeling they were going to need all the rest they could get.

  3

  Michael made the mistake of watching the NewsBops that night.

  He was all alone, curled up in the Chair—his parents weren’t home, and he still couldn’t remember when they’d be back. Helga usually went to bed when the sun set. His NetScreen shot out of his EarCuff and hovered before him, revealing all the dreary news of the day. Murders, bank failures, natural disasters. Nothing like a pick-me-up right before going to bed, he thought sadly. Usually such things seemed far away—things that happened to others. But for some reason it all felt a little closer to home after his talk with Agent Weber.

  He was just about to turn the news off when a story flashed open that made him stop. An older news anchor was talking about the latest buzz lighting up the VirtNet: the cyber-terrorist known as Kaine.

  With a flick of his finger, Michael turned up the volume and leaned forward, focusing as if the next couple of minutes were the most important of his life.

  “… the cause of several suicides, according to witnesses and messages sent by victims before their deaths,” the lady said. “Kaine has been known to infiltrate almost every popular game and social site in the VirtNet, not to mention countless reports of individual harassment. Not since the disappearance of the legendary Gunner Skale has an individual’s story lit up the VirtNet quite like this. What Kaine’s purpose might be, no one can guess. The VNS has given its word in an official statement that they are doing everything within their vast resources to locate the man and shut his access down permanently.”

  She continued speaking, and Michael stared and listened, half fascinated and half terrified. Virtual kidnappings that ended in virtual torture and incarceration from which people were unable to Lift themselves back to the Wake. Entire games or networks shut down or erased, nothing left but a line of code stating that “Kaine was here.” Brain-dead players found in their NerveBoxes.

  Michael had now heard all too much about the horrors committed by Kaine. What could be the man’s purpose? Was he doing it all just for kicks?

  Kaine.

  The Mortality Doctrine.

  People trapped in the Sleep. People showing up brain-dead. Others killing themselves just to escape the guy.

  Michael sighed. Happy thoughts, all.

  On that note, he crawled into bed and went to sleep. For some reason he dreamed about his parents and a vacation to the beach they’d taken together long, long ago.

  4

  Michael was thankful the next day was Saturday. Helga made some mean waffles and topped them with all the things that make a person fat—butter, whipped cream, syrup. She threw in a few strawberries to lessen the guilt factor. Neither of them spoke, and Michael wondered if she’d been watching the same NewsBops as he had. Cheerful stuff. At least he was going to see his friends later.

&
nbsp; A couple of hours after breakfast, Michael’s real body was snug inside the Coffin, while his liberated VirtNet body sat down on an out-of-the-way bench in New York’s Central Park, another one of his favorite meeting spots. The second-best thing to virtual food was to be surrounded by nature. A sight he didn’t see too often in the smoggy concrete jungle he called home.

  Bryson and Sarah were waiting impatiently when he arrived.

  “This better be good,” Bryson announced. “Like, wet-my-pants good.”

  “Why were you so cryptic, anyway?” Sarah added.

  Michael wasn’t so much scared anymore as excited to spill everything that had happened since he’d been nabbed in the alley. A little worried that someone could be eavesdropping, he started his story in a whisper but soon was speeding through the details so fast he was barely coherent.

  Sarah and Bryson just stared at him in confusion.

  “Um, maybe you should start over,” Bryson said.

  Sarah nodded. “From the beginning. And talk like a normal person.”

  “Okay, yeah.” Michael inhaled a long pull of fresh—but fake—air and started over. “So, I was walking to catch the train for school yesterday when this car pulls up and practically runs me down. Then these psycho dudes in black masks jump out and drag me into the backseat.”

  Bryson interrupted. “Wait. Michael, did you eat something funny today?”

  Michael rolled his eyes. “No, just … listen.” He couldn’t blame them for having doubts, but he was starting to get frustrated that he couldn’t get his story out.

  He took another breath and kept going, and by the time he got to Agent Weber discovering he’d been followed and having her guards whisk him away, he could see that his friends believed he was dead serious. He finished up by relaying the horrible things from the NewsBops—most of which they’d heard themselves.

  They sat in silence for at least a minute, stealing glances at the trees and bushes around them to see if anyone might be spying.