The General nodded curtly. “Dispose of them.”
Thorn felt a cold wave spread over him. “Kill them,” he said flatly.
“If they are of no use to us, then they’re already dead,” the General spoke as if he was telling a waiter to take away the remains of his dinner.
Thorn nodded.
“Hold on a second,” the General said. “Are they completely empty?”
“No,” Thorn said. “They simply can’t determine what is real from what isn’t. They have moments of lucidity, but most of the time they are dangerous and unstable to both themselves and others around them.” Thorn remembered the first few who had cracked. It had begun only a few months ago when, over the course of three weeks, forty-two children and twenty-seven adults had suddenly started to kill their friends and team members. It had occurred both within the Sim and out. Innocent people had died painful and permanent deaths. Thorn and the lead designers had quickly developed a test inside the Sim to determine if players were about to snap. Those that failed were kept inside the Sim, their bodies put in stasis. So far one hundred and thirty-four had failed the profile testing.
“They are still inside the Sim, right?”
“Yes,”
“Let’s see if we can put these poor soldiers to use then. I’m sure they would like to make their lives count for something in the long run.”
“What did you have in mind, General?”
“Since they are Blurred, I suggest we have them play a game or two. Let’s see how effective the project has been so far.”
Chapter 43
“What does ‘Blurred’ mean?”
Cooper stopped what he was doing and gave Brandon his full attention. “Where did you hear that term?” he asked.
Brandon shrugged. “When those kids went nuts and started stabbing each other a few weeks ago. Someone said they were ‘Blurred’.”
Cooper sat down and leaned against the wall, motioning for Brandon to do the same. The two had spent a lot of time together over the years and gotten pretty close; not as close as Thorn and Brandon, but almost.
Cooper ran his hand through his hair and looked at Brandon. “Your eyes ever get tired? You know, blurry vision?”
“Yeah, sure,” Brandon said. “It’s tough to see straight. Things get blurry and you can’t tell exactly how it all looks. If someone is a bit too far away and you’re seeing blurry you can’t tell if they are friend or enemy, or if they have a weapon on you or not.”
“Exactly,” Cooper said. “It can get the same jumping back and forth between Sim and the Dream. Sometimes if you get tired, or weak, or just super stressed out, it’s tough to tell if you’re in the Sim, or back in reality. Blurred.”
“Oh,” Brandon said. “They want us all Blurred.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Since the beginning they’ve made a real mess of how we come in and go out of the Sim.” Brandon said. “I remember early on some of the team was confused about if we were inside the Sim or out. I told them that’s what the General wants…for us to get so confused we don’t know where we are.”
Cooper was impressed. “Why would he want that?”
Brandon shrugged. “I can think of a couple reasons,” he smiled at Cooper, “You think I’m right?”
Cooper chuckled and gave Brandon a playful shove with his shoulder. “You could be,” he said. “How are you doing with it? You get blurred much?”
Brandon laughed. “I’ve never been blurry, and they’ve tried real hard to get me that way.”
“Really?” Cooper looked doubtful. “You’ve never once been confused? Hell, I’ve been blurry myself once or twice.”
“Nope. I always know where I am,” Brandon said. “So what’s the difference between blurry… and Blurred?”
“Control,” Cooper said. “If you’re blurry, then you aren’t sure where you are, but after a bit you can figure it out. It might take a while, but you can get it worked out. If you’re Blurred… well, then you’ve lost your way and can’t figure out where you are no matter what happens. It makes you go a bit crazy.”
“That why they started stabbing people?”
“Yeah. They panicked and thought they could figure out where they were by stabbing a person and seeing if it was an avatar.”
The two sat quietly for a few moments. Finally Brandon asked another question.
“What’s gonna happen to them?”
“They’ll be taken out of the Sim when it’s safe,” Cooper said. “They’ll send them back to the regular Centre and get them some help. Eventually everything will be fine.”
Brandon knew Cooper was lying, but he decided not to press the issue. “That’s good,” he said.
===
“Good morning.” The General stood at the head of the command centre where a large screen covered the entire front wall. Seven people sat around a large table and watched him All of them wore crisp uniforms decorated with various medals and ribbons signifying the top ranks from each division of the General’s impressive military machine.
“I’ve brought you here to observe the first of many operations involving recruits from our Game Facilities. Please keep in mind that this program is very young, at less than four years old. There will be many improvements over time as we learn from our efforts, but I think you’ll all be impressed by what you see in the next few hours. Feel free to ask as many questions as you like.”
The General motioned for everyone to look at the main viewer and the lights dimmed. A first person perspective camera view appeared on the screen, apparently from someone wearing a helmet cam. The person appeared to be inside an airborne carrier, along with a team of both male and female soldiers.
“The fifteen individuals you see on the screen have been equipped with equipment appropriate for their mission. They are flying into enemy territory, where they will be air dropped under cover of darkness. Their job is to work as a team to infiltrate a particularly well defended encampment, eliminate all defence, and assassinate the camp leader who is currently number three on our most wanted list.”
“This mission has been tried before,” a woman said from the left side of the table. “It was a horrible failure, as I recall. The enemy position is deeply fortified and protected.”
“That’s true,” the General agreed.
“This is a suicide mission,” she stated.
“Perhaps.”
“Are some of the people on that carrier children?” a Major asked.
“All fifteen people are products of PROJECT SIM,” the General said.
“Ah,” the woman nodded, “the virtual reality simulator. I’ve been curious about its progress.”
Others around the table nodded their heads and murmured in agreement. The General smiled confidently as he sat down, swiveling his seat to watch the scene on the front monitor with the rest of them. “I think you’ll be pleased with the results. One of our goals inside the Sim is to induce a state where subjects are no longer able to distinguish reality from the simulation. We’ve coined the term ‘Blurred’ to describe this condition, and are working patiently to attain it with our players. It will take years of gradual and subtle manipulation to allow us to bring subjects in and out of this state, but we’re seeing incredible results in just the short time we’ve been at it.”
“The subjects we are viewing have achieved a stable Blurred state?” an older commander asked.
"Blurred,” the General said, “but not stable. These subjects weren’t able to handle the stresses involved. The fifteen you see have lost their grasp on reality and cannot be brought out of the Blurred state.”
The crew began to parachute out of the plane.
Finally the woman spoke up. “What is it we’re supposed to see?”
“The power that comes from soldiers who are convinced that they’re playing a game,” the General said. “These children and adults have hundreds of hours of real combat experience; they’ve died countless times and learned from each failur
e. As they attempt to destroy this fortification, I want all of you to see how effective the Sim program can be.”
For the next three hours, the military leaders watched with rapt attention as the fifteen players fared better than trained and hardened veterans had done in past attempts. With impressive precision and skill, the motley looking crew managed to destroy over three quarters of the base. Of particular note was the point group which consisted of four children that the General confirmed were each no older than 15. They communicated perfectly, entering and securing buildings with the confidence and accuracy of a veteran special ops team.
It looked as if they might actually accomplish their impossible mission, but a bad streak of luck caused the General to swear loudly as the group was surrounded by enemy forces and quickly dispatched.
“What just happened?” a Major asked. “They were doing so well, then everything just fell apart.”
The General shook his head angrily, “Rewind the footage back three minutes,” he said.
As they began to watch the playback, the General said, “Watch the lead point step on that mine and tap his right leg.” Everyone watched as the boy did exactly as the General described.
“Why did he tap his leg and then continue to walk forward?” the woman asked. “He obviously knew he’d just stepped on a land mine, yet he kept going as if it wouldn’t hurt him.”
“Perks,” the General said with disgust. “Inside the Sim, players have the opportunity to purchase extended abilities with points that they accumulate. This group was specifically told that no perks would function in this scenario, but that one appears to have forgotten. If he’d been inside the Sim, tapping his leg would have frozen the mine and allowed him five seconds to get safely out of the blast radius. He should have yelled at the others about the mine and just fallen on it once they’d moved away to safety.”
“But instead he said nothing and all four of them walked right into its path.”
“Exactly,” the General said. He pointed at the other three groups who had quickly perished after the point group was taken out. “See that one right there?” He pointed to an adult who appeared to be leading the others in coordination with the point team. “Once he learned the point team was down, he signaled for a wipe.”
“He did what?” the oldest commander at the table asked.
“He signaled for them to all die quickly.”
“Why would he do that?”
The General sighed. “So they could respawn and try the scenario again with the point kids back in play.”
“They’ll be surprised when they don’t respawn,” a Colonel said. Others shook their heads at the dark joke and the General made a sour face.
“Thoughts?” the General asked.
“Remarkable,” the woman said. Everyone else at the table nodded in agreement.
“Admittedly, there are bugs to work out,” the General said. “But did any of you expect to see a performance like this from such an ordinary looking group of people?”
“The Sim is producing better results than we could have predicted,” the woman said with a smile. She stood up and everyone else in the room followed suit.
She approached the General and shook his hand. “Excellent start, Donovan, keep up the good work.”
The General smiled. “Thank you, Madame President.”
Chapter 44
One recreational program that a player could buy was a simple, solo flying program.
The player paid the required amount of points — an extremely large number of points — stepped through a doorway and immediately began to fall thousands of feet towards the blue ocean surface below.
Brandon smiled and enjoyed the free fall. When he was just a few hundred feet away from the water’s surface, he tapped a spot behind his shoulder and a pair of beautiful golden wings sprang from his back, catching the air smoothly and lifting him upwards. Letting out a shout of joy, he sailed through the air, spiraling lazily for a few moments before banking right to catch a warm thermal current which would lift him higher.
Time seemed to melt away.
After what seemed like hours of relaxing flight and peaceful exploration, Brandon summoned the glow and visualized a small island. Within minutes he spotted the island off in the distance, surrounded by water in every other direction as far as his eyes could see. When he got close enough he saw a small white cabin with two chairs and a table in front of it. There was a figure sitting in one of the chairs, lifting a glass of cold drink to his mouth. This simulation was supposed to be private, but for Brandon it was an excellent place to meet with one of his favourite people.
Brandon sped towards the table, fully extending his wings to grab as much air as he could at the last instant, causing him to flare slightly upwards. At that exact moment he tapped his shoulder and deactivated his wings, dropping from a height of seven feet to land softly on the ground. He smiled as he walked the last few paces to join his visitor.
“Impressive flying,” Thorn said. He smiled and raised his glass in a salute to Brandon before taking another sip.
“Thank you,” Brandon poured his own drink from the pitcher and sat down. The two spent a few quiet moments enjoying the perfect weather as the soothing sounds of the ocean washed over them.
Thorn was first to break the silence. “I see you let the little boy in the cage kill you again.”
Brandon sipped his drink and looked towards the horizon.
Thorn chuckled. “How many times is that, now? Ten?”
“Eleven.”
“You’re supposed to leave him.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Thorn looked at Brandon with amusement in his eyes. “Want any hints?”
Brandon’s head didn’t move, but his eyes shifted to gaze in Thorn’s direction. “Has anyone ever saved him?” he asked.
Thorn shook his head.
“Then no thanks, I’ll see what I can come up with on my own.”
“Your father added that to the game,” Thorn said. “He wanted to make sure that everyone understands there are times when orders must be followed, regardless of the cost.”
Brandon laughed harshly. “My father?” he asked.
“The General,” Thorn said. “That’s how you all refer to him, isn’t it?”
“Not me,” Brandon said. “He’s not my father. He’s just an old man who has everyone else fooled into believing that he cares about them, when really he uses us all like game pieces on a board.”
“Perhaps.”
“There’s no perhaps about it. He’s never even entered the Sim. For the last five years, we hear from him every once in a while on the vid screen, but he’s pretty much useless,” Brandon shook his head. “The General hasn’t been a father to any of us. If I had to pick a father, someone who cares about me, and helps me, and looks out for me… well, there’s only one man I can think of who fits that description.”
“Who?” Thorn asked.
“It would be you,” Brandon said.
Thorn looked at Brandon to gauge his sincerity. This was the first time the boy had uttered such a thought out loud. He had alluded to it with Cooper, but he’d never told Thorn that he considered him to be like a father.
Thorn smiled and clapped Brandon on the back. In his mind he felt a rush of triumph. It had taken years of carefully calculated planning and nurturing to get to this point. Brandon was almost ten years old, and Thorn had painstakingly given the boy his time and attention ever since they’d first met. The law of imprinting was simply too strong with the others, but Brandon had been very receptive at his young age. The special treatment and extensive periods of personal one-on-one time with Thorn had been the perfect mix.
“It would be dangerous for you to think of me in that way,” Thorn said.
“Maybe.” Brandon thought about the implications. Not quite ten years old, but he’d always been very mature. “It’s the truth, though. Is it okay…? If I call you Father?”
Thorn felt a warm tear form
in his eye, and as it trickled down his cheek, he wondered if it was genuine. It was too difficult to tell after playing games for all these years. He allowed himself to pretend the extraordinary young man sitting beside him was the kind of son he would be destined to have, if he’d ever decided to have children.
“Brandon,” Thorn said, “when we’re alone, I would be honoured to have you call me Father.”
Chapter 45
The lights turn on in the dorm but my eyes are already open. I wasn’t sleeping anyway.
I lay in my bunk and look around. The other kids are sitting up in their bunks; some of them stretching and yawning, others getting up and walking towards the bathroom. Many form tiny groups and begin to talk with each other, joking or asking questions. They group up and start to get ready for the day. No one bothers to talk to me; I guess that’s how they deal with new kids here, or maybe they’ve decided not to like me already. I get that a lot.
It doesn’t matter, this is my first day at the Game Facility and I can’t wait to get playing.
I walk to the bathroom and get looks. Then I hear whispers.
“He’s a tank if I ever saw one.”
The other kid laughs. “Too soon to say that. Maybe he plays his first day in the Sim and goes back crying to his old Centre. He’s too young to even be here.”
I pretend not to hear them and walk over to a sink. I splash water on my face and brush my teeth. Kids come in and stand at the sink beside me, and they still haven’t shut up about me. “That’s not so young,” the kid says. “Brandon was a lot younger when he came here, and look at him.”
“Oh, please,” the other kid laughs. “You saying this one’s another Brandon?” He addresses me directly. “Hey, kid.”
I keep looking into the mirror and continue to brush my teeth.
“Kid,” the boy says. “Okay, fine then, don’t answer me.” He goes back to talking to his friend. “I doubt the kid’s another Brandon, and he’s not that much younger. I think he’s nine.”
Yeah, I’m nine. I was so excited to get here early, start playing games in the Sim like my hero. All of us know the name Brandon. The little kid who came to the Sim early and is one of the best players they have. Whenever there was a whisper about him, we’d all get together and listen to the stories. It made us play our games harder. We all wanted to get to the Sim early and be like him. Maybe even meet him. I was so excited when they told me I’d be coming here early. Was.
Interlude-Brandon (The Game is Life) Page 15
