Cheatc0de

by Mikey Campling

  There’s a slight pause. “We?”

  Hank grimaces. Goddamned idiot! He takes a quick breath. “You and me. We’ve got to get into this terminal right now, or I’ll have to leave the room without the key. Do you have the access code or not?”

  “OK,” Will says, and then he lets out a chuckle. “You had it all the time, kid.”

  Hank raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Jesus, I don’t have time for riddles, Will. Just give me the goddamned code or I’m out of here.”

  “OK, OK. Relax.” He pauses. “It’s my game tag.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yep. There all the time,” Will says. “Hidden in plain sight.”

  Hank rolls his eyes. I should’ve guessed. I knew there was something weird about that goddamned tag. He checks the countdown, and as he watches, the numbers change to 138. “I hate to bruise your ego, Will, but I didn’t memorize your tag. And I’ve only got two minutes left on the clock.”

  “But you still have it. Check AIPR0N’s settings. I own the mod, right? My tag’s right there.”

  Hank takes a breath and calls up AIPR0N’s main menu. He sees the owner ID clearly in his mind, and he holds it there as he bends over the terminal and types the code in as carefully as he can. He double checks the code then takes a deep breath and hits the return key. The terminal’s screen goes blank except for a simple, flashing cursor. Even the countdown disappears. “OK, Will. I’ve entered the code. Nothing bad happened, so I guess I got it right.”

  Will’s voice cuts in, “Listen, this is very important. When you see the key, I want you to capture the data with your HUD. You can do that, can’t you?”

  “Sure. I can take a snapshot.”

  “Good. Then, as soon as you’ve done that, you must go straight into the room directly opposite.”

  Hank frowns. “Why?”

  “Because when you do, I’ll transfer five million credits into your account.”

  Hank’s eyes flick over to Jamie and then back to the screen. Five million? He fights the urge to yell the words at the top of his voice. Instead, he just says, “I see.”

  “You’ve done real well, kid. You’ve earned a nice big bonus. Just this one last step, and then you’ll get your money and you’ll be free to go.”

  Hank’s mind is still reeling. Five million credits—even if he doesn’t get a great exchange rate, he’ll still be rich. But what if this is just another of Will’s scams? How can he be sure Will won’t try and stiff him at the last moment? He needs to think fast, and he needs to get this right while somehow keeping Jamie in the dark. He moves his lips soundlessly, trying to conjure up the right words, but Will’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

  “There’s something else in there for you as well.”

  Hank smells a whiff of bullshit. “No thanks, that won’t be necessary.”

  “But you’ll like this,” Will says. “Remember I told you that you can keep everything you find along the way? Well that room is an Aladdin’s cave for a gamer. You name it, it’s just lying around in there, ready to be grabbed.”

  Hank grimaces. How stupid do you think I am? He’s not even vaguely tempted by the offer of a few free upgrades. They’re probably not even real. He shakes his head slowly, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders whether he would’ve felt the same just a few short hours ago, before he met Dale and Jamie. I’d have swallowed it hook, line and sinker. He runs his hand across his mouth. “Sounds good,” he says, though without much conviction. He risks another quick glance at Jamie. The Englishman is watching him closely, and Hank reminds himself that the guy was some sort of spook in real life. He’ll be good at reading people, spotting a lie. But Hank needs to know one more thing. He needs to find out exactly what the deal is with the five million. It’s a lot of money, and it wouldn’t be dishonest to take it. If Will wants to pay him for all he’s been through, it would be crazy to walk away from it. And if he can somehow get the credits without handing over the key to Will, then everyone will be happy. Except Will of course, but frankly, after all his bullshit, the guy deserves to lose a lot more than five million. I could even share it with Jamie and Dad—make up for everything. Put things right. And that’s a damned good argument. Hank makes his decision. “Listen, Will, that transfer you just mentioned. How would that work?”

  “Simple. All you have to do is walk into the room with the key, and I’ll transfer the money into your account, just like before.”

  “OK,” Hank says. “I’m still waiting on the terminal. Stand by. I’ll report back.”

  “Wait!” Will shouts. “Don’t c—”

  But Hank cuts the voice channel and gives Jamie a look. “That guy is unbelievable.”

  “Is there a problem?” Jamie asks. “Did he try to get you to do something else?”

  “Yeah, he shot me a line. But I just pretended to go along with it. Figured it’s best to string him along for a while until we know what we’re up against.”

  “OK,” Jamie says slowly. “That’s good thinking. But don’t forget what we’re trying to achieve.”

  “I won’t,” Hank says. He raises his eyebrows and inclines his head toward the screen. “This damned thing’s taking forever. I don’t even know if it’s working.”

  “Yes. The countdown’s gone. That’s probably a good sign.”

  Hank shrugs. “I guess so.”

  “But—” Jamie starts then hesitates, pursing his lips for a moment. “I hate to say this, but although the display has gone, we don’t know for certain that the countdown has stopped. If it hasn’t, we can’t see how long we’ve got left. The risk is too high. We’ll have to get out.” He puts his hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Come on. You gave it a good shot, but this is not our primary objective.”

  Hank stares at the terminal’s screen. The cursor blinks, once, twice, three times. “Wait. We had at least a minute and a half. The machine is old. Give it a little longer to respond.”

  Jamie lets go of Hank’s shoulder and draws a long breath. “I’ll give it ten seconds, and then I’m leaving and I’m taking you with me.”

  “OK.” Hank says without taking his eyes from the screen. “OK.” His lips are dry, and he runs his tongue over them. “Come on, you useless piece of junk.”

  The silence in the room weighs down on Hank’s shoulders, presses against his scalp. The thought of five million credits is still whirling around his brain. He doesn’t want the key for himself anymore—that was a crazy idea—but taking Will’s money would be totally different. Perhaps there’s a way to take the key for just long enough to convince Will and then take his money and log off without handing the key over. He needn’t keep the key for himself. He can just delete the damned thing.

  He rubs at his forehead and looks back at Jamie. How can he capture the key without Jamie seeing? “Do you, maybe, want to wait outside?” he mumbles.

  “Holy shit!” Jamie says, his eyes wide. And he’s looking at something over Hank’s shoulder.

  Hank snaps his head back around to check the terminal. “Wow!” The screen is full of text: a complete menu of numbered options. And Hank’s eyes go straight to number one on the list: Retrieve Encryption Key.

  “We’ve done it,” Hank whispers. He smiles, and his hand moves over the keys, his finger hovering over the one. But before he can press it, Jamie grabs his arm and pulls him away from the terminal, spinning him around.

  Hank turns on him, his face flushed with anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Jamie looks him in the eye. “I don’t think you meant to do that,” Jamie says, keeping his voice level.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, you son of a bitch!”

  “Then start behaving like a man with some self-respect,” Jamie says. “We agreed on our objectives here, and I expect you to stick to that agreement.”

  They face each other in silence. Hank is breathing hard, his eyes burning, his face white with anger, but Jamie stands calmly, his shoulders square, hi
s mouth set in grim line.

  “The option we want is number seven,” Jamie says.

  Hank glances back at the screen and scans the menu. If he picks option seven it will reset the terminal’s access code.

  “We need to make sure the key is beyond Will’s reach forever,” Jamie says. “Change the access code now. It’s only a matter of time before Will sends another poor sod to retrieve the damned key, and we have to be sure he won’t succeed.”

  Hank hesitates. “It’s easy for you to say,” he snaps. “I got nothing when I get back home. Nothing.”

  Jamie doesn’t speak for a moment, but the disappointment is all too clear on his face. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll leave it up to you.” He takes a step back. “I’m going to walk out of this room. If you take the key, I won’t know, and I’ll never ask. But I trust you. I know you’ll do the right thing.” He gives Hank a nod then turns away and walks out the room.

  Hank watches him leave then turns his attention back to the screen. He takes a breath and looks through the menu once again. “Who the hell am I trying to kid?” he murmurs. He thinks once more of the cars he could own, the grand houses he could buy, the parties he could host. Then he thinks of his dad: the way he suffers in silence, going on with his daily life in quiet dignity, the way he’s always strived to hold things together, to put food on the table and keep a flame in the furnace. Long ago, his dad must’ve turned his back on the man he once was, and all for what? For me, he thinks. He does it all for me.

  Hank sighs and reaches out toward the keyboard. “I guess you don’t miss what you never had,” he says, then he presses down firmly on the seven.

  Immediately, the screen prompts him for a new access code. Hank allows himself a fleeting smile, then he bends over the keyboard and types fast: the longest, most complex password that he can remember well enough to type twice.

  “Get out of that, Will,” he whispers, then he hits the return key.

  The terminal’s display changes: Access code reset successfully. Doors lock in ten seconds, nine, eight.

  “I win,” Hank says, then he turns and dashes for the door.

  Jamie is waiting outside, leaning against the wall. He raises his left eyebrow and gives Hank a quizzical look.

  “I thought you weren’t going to ask,” Hank says.

  “I didn’t say a word. I trust you. I just can’t help being a little curious that’s all.”

  Hank’s tempted to keep the Englishman in suspense, just for the hell of it, but somehow he doubts he could hide the truth from Jamie. Not for long anyway. “You needn’t worry. I didn’t take the goddamned key, all right? And I set the access code to something that no one can hack, even if they had a million years.”

  “Good man!” Jamie says. “I’d like to see the look on his face when he realizes.”

  “Not me. I never want to lay eyes on that son of a bitch again.”

  “Fair point,” Jamie says and pushes himself off from the wall. “Now, let’s see if we can find your old man and get out of here.”

  Hank glances at the door opposite Room 001—the door Will told him to open—and he holds up his hand. “Wait. We should wait for my dad to come meet us. It’s what we arranged, and he’ll be here any minute.”

  Jamie pushes out his bottom lip. “I suppose you’re right. We don’t want to lose him. But I’m eager to be off.”

  “Me too, Jamie,” Hank says. “Me too.” And though his eyes keep going to the unnumbered door, he doesn’t say a word.

  CHAPTER 34

  Two Minutes

  JAMIE AND HANK DON’T HAVE TO WAIT LONG before Mervin jogs into view, and Hank shifts his weight from foot to foot as he watches his dad approach. What if it’s all gone wrong? he thinks. What if they’re onto us? But Mervin is smiling as he jogs to a halt in front of them.

  “Everything OK, Dad?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mervin answers. “Did you guys do OK?”

  “Definitely,” Jamie says. “Hank well and truly spiked Will’s guns.”

  Mervin looks at Hank, taking in his son’s shy smile, the hopeful gleam in his eyes. He clears his throat. “Good job, Hank.”

  “Thanks,” Hank says. And though it seems like he should say more, he can’t think of a single thing.

  Jamie looks from Hank to Mervin and breaks up the awkward silence. “Any trouble headed our way?”

  Mervin shakes his head. “No, we’re fine for now. I made it outside just in time. I ran into a couple of the guys, but I told them it was all good over here. They took my word for it. They didn’t see the broken door, thank god.”

  “Excellent,” Jamie says. “That was very good of you.” He pauses. “But what will happen when they find out you lied?”

  “Ah, to hell with them,” Mervin says. “I’ve had enough of this place anyway.” He looks at Hank. “It’s about time I concentrated on the real world instead.” And he gives Hank a little smile.

  Hank swallows hard. He hasn’t seen his dad smile like that for a long time, and it stirs up the ghost of an old memory.

  It’s sunny, and they’re having a picnic somewhere where the grass is lush and impossibly green. His mom is sitting on a brightly colored picnic rug. Hank shows his dad a big black beetle he’s caught in his hands, and when he lets the bug go, taking great care to put it back gently and exactly where he found it, his dad watches proudly. His smile is so warm and sincere, and it’s good. It makes him feel safe.

  Now, standing in this bleak corridor, when Hank looks into his dad’s eyes, he realizes something that shakes him up: the proud, gentle man of his memories has been there all along, watching over him. But somewhere along the line, his dad forgot how to show who he really was. And Hank did something he should never have done—he gave up on his own father.

  Hank hangs his head, and when he closes his eyes, an image of that picnic on the grass flashes into his mind. It’s a good memory, and he wants to hold onto it, but it makes it even harder to go ahead with what he’s just about to do. He’s going to lie. He’s going to cheat and betray the trust his dad and Jamie have placed in him. But it has to be done.

  He opens his eyes and looks up at his dad. “Dad, there’s something... I want to take a look in this room.” He points to the unnumbered door.

  Mervin frowns. “We don’t have time to go exploring. We have to leave.”

  Jamie narrows his eyes and looks at Hank. “Where’s this idea suddenly come from?” he asks, and when Hank doesn’t answer, he adds, “This is something to do with Will.”

  “Oh Jesus, not that guy again,” Mervin says. “Come on, Hank. Let me show you to the gear room. It’s this way.” He steps toward Hank and beckons him forward, but Hank stands firm.

  “It’s nothing to do with Will,” Hank says. “My HUD tells me there’s something going on in there. I just want to take a look, OK?”

  Mervin glances at the door. “There’s nothing interesting in there, Son. Nobody goes in there. No one ever has as far as I know.”

  “But you can open it, can’t you, Dad?” Hanks asks. “It doesn’t have a number, so you can open the door, right?”

  Mervin gives a curt nod. “Sure, I can open it. But I don’t see the need. That room was abandoned long ago, and right now, we have more important things to worry about.”

  “It’s not abandoned, Dad. There’s a lot of heat coming from that room and an EM field stronger than any other room in the place. I can see it all in my HUD.”

  Mervin hesitates. “Really?”

  “Yeah. There’s something going on in there. All I ask is that you let me take a quick look, and then we’ll go, OK?”

  “I don’t like it,” Jamie says, “but what Hank says is true. He was scanning all the doors, looking for any sign of a place where we could log off.” He looks at Hank. “But we don’t need that now. Your father is going to take us out.”

  “Two minutes,” Hank says. “And then we go.”

  Mervin sighs and looks at his son. The trust in his dad’s eyes
is too much to bear, and Hank looks down and pretends to check his weapon.

  “All right,” Mervin says. “But make it a minute and a half.” The tone of his voice makes it clear that this is an instruction, not a request, and he doesn’t wait for a reply. He steps up to the unmarked door and swipes the wall with his hand to reveal the access panel. He clears his throat then bends closer to the panel and presses the red button. “Request access,” he says, speaking clearly and slowly. There’s a sharp metallic click, and Mervin stands up tall and puts his hand on the door. “Come on. Stay close. And remember, I’m counting every second.”

  He pushes the door open and walks in, with Hank and Jamie following closely behind. Like Room 001, this place is in almost complete darkness, but here, the ceiling lights do not come on as they enter. There is only the faint green glow from two rows of small screens that stretch into the distance. The room feels enormous, like a vast cavern, and the sheer emptiness of the place amplifies the sound as the men’s boots grate against the grit and dust on the floor. Jamie holds the door open to allow a little light to filter in from the corridor, and the three men look around in silence as their eyes adjust to the gloom. A faint, whirring hum echoes in the darkness: a chorus of cooling fans. The room is cold, the air stale and fusty. Hank stares into the shadows, and as he moves forward, two rows of dark, squat shapes emerge from the gloom. The bulky objects seem strangely familiar, but he can’t quite make them out. “What is this place?”

  “Huh! Someone’s idea of a sick joke if you ask me,” Mervin mutters. “Damned place should never have been built.”

  “It looks like your dad was right,” Jamie says. “There’s nothing worth seeing here. You just picked up the heat from all this old equipment.”

  Hank steps forward, and now he understands what he’s looking at. Game chairs. He looks at his dad. “I don’t get it. Why would you want game chairs inside the game? What’s it all for?”

  Mervin heaves a sigh. “It’s a war room, Son. The sort of place I used to serve in, back in the bad old days. I guess someone got nostalgic.” He runs his eyes over the rows of old chairs, and a bitter sneer curls the corner of his mouth. It’s like a goddamned tomb in here, he thinks, then he turns his attention back to Hank. “I should never have brought you in here. But now that you’ve seen for yourself, maybe you’ll let it lie.” He pauses, takes a last glance around the room. “You’ve had your time, Son. You said you’d leave once you’d had a look around.”