Gamerunner

by B. R. Collins

  There was a silence. It fitted the room perfectly, wall to white wall, like it had been ordered especially.

  And then they laughed.

  He’d never heard people laugh like that. They laughed like the joke was death, and terror, and all the worst things they could imagine. And they were laughing at him. He stood there, and if he could have died right there, right then, he would have done.

  Finally someone else — a man, with a shiny, sculpted face, too GM’d — said, ‘No, don’t think so, mate. Sorry.’

  There was contempt in his voice, as well as hatred. The same old trick, it said. How stupid do you think we are?

  They’d stopped laughing. Now they were just staring at him. The hostility made his skin tingle, like the airburn had.

  He turned away. He knew Perdy was dead. He’d known it ever since he’d seen the broken window in Daed’s office — but now it was just there, an unassailable fact, like gravity.

  As he left someone said, just loudly enough, ‘And he couldn’t even get Jason’s name right.’

  Time passed. There was nothing Rick could do, so he did nothing. No one came to see him; but that was OK, because the thought of seeing anyone made him feel queasy and afraid. Once he thought he heard Daed’s footsteps outside the door, and his stomach swirled and plummeted. But no one came in. And he was glad. Fiercely, defiantly glad.

  He swam and practised the slowfight form on his own in his room, so at least he’d be hungry. Then he ate and slept. Strangely enough, he slept well, without dreaming.

  Time passed. Hours, days, a week.

  He was asleep when the door opened, and he dreamt that someone had come into the room and was sitting at the end of the bed. He rolled over, wishing they’d go away, but they didn’t, and finally he had to admit he’d woken up and they were still sitting on his feet. He opened his eyes and looked at the faint reflection in the window. A ghost of Daed was sitting on a transparent bed, in twenty storeys’ worth of mid-air. Rick wondered vaguely what was keeping him there.

  ‘Awake?’

  ‘No,’ Rick said, ‘I’m still asleep.’

  ‘Security said you might be ill. You’ve slept fourteen hours out of the last twenty-four.’

  ‘I don’t have anything else to do.’

  ‘Find something.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘What’s up, Rick?’ Daed’s voice was soft, unexpectedly concerned. It made Rick sit up — slowly, because his head was spinning — and peer at him. Daed smiled, and Rick’s unease faded. ‘Good. I thought you were awake.’

  ‘Go away, Daed.’ He lay back down.

  Daed stood up. For a second Rick thought he’d won, and felt a stupid surge of disappointment that Daed hadn’t tried harder. He heard Daed go back to the door. Daed said, ‘Lights, please.’

  ‘Hey — Daed —’ Rick squeaked in outrage and dived under a pillow, sheltering from the light as if it was a bomb-blast. Everything was muffled but his eyes still ached. He hadn’t had the lights on for days.

  ‘Yep — through there, please, there’s a studio, the door — no, that’s the bathroom — gods, be careful, do you have any idea how much that’s worth? Yes, there, that’s right, ignore the corpse in the bed, it’s just a teenager.’

  Rick raised his head. There were two workpeople shuffling round his bed with a box — a kind of white cylinder — the size of a coffin. They glanced at him as they went past. One of them smiled, but Rick was too confused to smile back.

  Daed said, ‘Yep, through there, normal power supply, normal networking, software already installed. Can I trust you two to set it up?’

  The smaller workperson said, ‘Er . . . well, actually —’

  ‘Set it up,’ Daed said, dismissing him.

  ‘But —’ The workpeople exchanged looks. The little one cleared his throat. ‘Erm, we’re not actually — our training isn’t — not for new hardware — the insurance —’

  ‘Oh, for gods’ sake,’ Daed said. ‘It’s not hard. Just do it. I’ll check it later, OK?’

  They exchanged another look, and then the woman shrugged. She said, ‘OK, Daed, no problem,’ and they started moving again. They paused at the door to Rick’s studio, and the comms panel let them straight through, without a qualm. The door shut behind them. Rick turned his head slowly and stared at Daed.

  ‘The iTank,’ Daed said. He’d got a faint grin, like a skull. ‘A little present for you. Not connected to the Maze yet, obviously, but there’s a demo on there.’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t want it.’

  ‘Tough,’ Daed said. ‘You’ve got it.’

  They looked at each other. Then Rick buried his face in his pillow again.

  After a while the studio door opened again and the same unfamiliar voice said, ‘All set up. Anything else, Daed?’

  ‘No. Thanks.’

  The silence swirled round the workpeople as they left, and then washed back into the room. It was cold.

  ‘You should try it,’ Daed said.

  ‘Try what?’ Rick said. ‘Blackmail? Murder? Oh, right. I get it. You mean the iTank.’

  Another silence. Then Daed said quietly, ‘Ah.’

  Rick rolled over, until he could see Daed’s face, the way the electric light shone off his skin, how everything looked too thin. He said, ‘Ah? Is that all you’ve got to say? Ah?’

  ‘I’m sorry about Perdy’s — I’m sorry about Perdy.’

  ‘You killed her,’ Rick said, spitting the words like they were made of something. He wanted to see them hit Daed’s shirt and leave a mark.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You murdered her — you pushed her out of the wi—’ Rick stopped. His heart stuttered, like it was trying to catch up. ‘What?’

  ‘I said, yes. I pushed her out of my window. I did kill her.’

  Rick blinked. He almost wanted to laugh. He waited for Daed to explain, change his mind.

  Daed looked back at him, expressionless.

  Rick put his face back into the soft breath-smelling pillow, and started to cry.

  Daed let him cry for a long time. Then, finally, Rick felt the mattress sag and tremble as Daed sat down. He didn’t touch Rick, but the air got warmer.

  Quietly — so quietly Rick had to stop crying, just to hear the words — Daed said, ‘Everything I do is because of you.’

  Rick sat bolt upright, and if he’d been close enough to Daed to hit him he would have done. ‘Don’t you dare say that! Daed, you killed her, you killed —’

  ‘Yes. And everything I do is to make sure you’re safe, that you’ll always be safe. I’m sorry about Perdy. But you’re more important.’

  Rick stared at him. Part of him said: Come on, it’s Daed, of course he knows how to say exactly the right thing. Gods, you don’t believe him?

  The other part of him stayed resolutely silent, because all it could think of was: Really? You think I’m important? Really?

  ‘OK?’ Daed reached out a thin, nicotine-stained hand: the hand a skeleton would have, if it chain-smoked. He brushed Rick’s hair off his forehead. ‘I’m sorry. I know it upset you.’

  ‘How did — why did you have to —?’

  ‘She was going to sabotage Asterion. I tried to get her out by gentler means, but . . . We had a fight. I realised then that it was . . . inevitable.’

  The way he said it reminded Rick of Paz: the thing about people, Daed, is that they’re . . . dispensable.

  But Rick didn’t say anything. And he let the silence go on, until finally it swung shut, like an old-fashioned door, and the subject was closed.

  Daed said, ‘Anyway. The iTank’s fantastic. I think you’ll like it. Hardware isn’t my area, of course, but when you see the demo . . . I’m proud of it.’

  ‘Good,’ Rick said, without feeling anything.

  ‘Try it. The atmosphere downstairs is . . . I’ve never felt anything like it. Even Marketing are happy.’ Daed laughed. There was pleasure in his voice, but something else, too. Rick would have thou
ght it was bitterness, if that had made sense; but it didn’t. ‘The launch party is going to be big. You’re invited, of course. I think you might enjoy it.’

  ‘I don’t want to go.’

  ‘Let me rephrase that,’ Daed said. ‘I think you will enjoy it.’

  ‘I don’t want to go.’

  ‘Tough,’ Daed said, shrugging. ‘You’re going. And you won’t insult anyone or GBH any Security guards, either.’

  Rick opened his mouth to make the ‘I’ sound. But it disobeyed him. ‘All right.’

  ‘Good.’ Daed coughed, and covered his mouth with his hand. The fit went on for thirty seconds, easily, and when he stopped he wiped his hand on his trousers. It left a dark stain in the shape of two fingers, giving Rick a dispassionate V-sign.

  Daed was sick. He was still sick.

  But —

  Rick thought: Wait, I thought —

  ‘Daed — you’re OK,’ he said, in a rush. ‘You’re OK, aren’t you? You’re going to be OK?’

  Daed looked at him, and his eyes were like a curtain, ready to be drawn aside. For a moment Rick was afraid, because he was going to see what was behind Daed’s face, what Daed really looked like.

  Then Daed raised one eyebrow. ‘Yes, Rick. I’m OK, you’re OK, we’re both OK, everything’s going to be OK. OK?’

  ‘OK,’ Rick said, before he could stop himself.

  ‘Try the iTank demo. You’ll like it. I’m a genius.’ He stood up. ‘Must be fun, being related to a genius.’ He winked.

  Rick smiled back. He stored the word away, to be re-examined later. Related. It was something.

  Daed raised a hand — like he was a god, calling down blessings on the household — and turned to leave. It would have been a smooth exit, except that he started to cough, and had to steady himself in the doorway. Rick watched him, and then looked away, uncomfortable. It was like watching something private, like he shouldn’t be there. He let his gaze rest on the shark under the swimming pool.

  Daed gasped for breath, the air rattling in his throat. Something blackish and clotted hit the carpet at his feet and soaked in.

  Immortality, Rick thought. Not all it’s cracked up to be, apparently.

  Something inside him gave way. He couldn’t help it. Something broke, something split cleanly down the middle. He’d had enough. He couldn’t go on.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ he said, hearing his voice rise suddenly, out of control. ‘I know this is all my fault — if I hadn’t won against the Roots . . . but you designed it, you put the end there, if you hadn’t—’

  ‘What? Made it possible?’ Daed was smiling; how could he be smiling? ‘I had to, Rick. Nothing is impossible, remember? If word got out that I was designing dead-end quests . . .’ His cough mastered him again.

  There was a silence, and Rick hated him: for being right, for always being right. For letting things get to this. For Letting Rick—

  He said, in spite of himself, ‘Daed, I want to go. Please can we go?’

  Daed straightened up, struggled, and finally drew a whole, ragged breath. ‘Go where?’

  ‘Anywhere. I can’t stay here. I can’t do it any more. Please.’

  ‘Leave the complex?’

  ‘Yes. Please, Daed, please.’ He was like a kid, pleading for sweets. He remembered Perdita’s macaroons and felt queasy.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Please —’

  ‘No.’ The cough came back, only this time it was a laugh. Rick felt his throat tightening. What was so funny? Blood speckled the corners of Daed’s mouth, and when he wiped it away he left a long mark on his chin, like a pennant. He said, ‘Oh, Rick. Gods. You’re priceless.’

  Rick opened his mouth to say something — to argue, to insult, to plead, he didn’t know what — but Daed got there first. And something in his voice told Rick to shut up, because maybe, just this once, Daed might be telling him the truth.

  ‘Rick,’ he said, ‘I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep us here. Everything I’ve done . . . And I’ve done it too well. We couldn’t leave if we wanted to. And now, with Asterion . . .’ He stopped short, as if he’d caught himself on the edge of saying something he shouldn’t.

  ‘But —’

  ‘Shut up and listen.’ Daed leant against the door frame, crossing one ankle over the other, so he looked like a screenshot from the Maze, a vagabond loitering outside a tavern. You wouldn’t have seen the tension in his shoulders and ribs, unless you’d been looking for it. ‘Rick . . . we needed Crater. We needed shelter, and food, and money. So I came here, with you, and offered to work for them. You were too small to remember. And I worked so well that they promoted me, and kept on promoting me, until now I’m indispensable. I am the Maze . . .’ For a second he paused, looking past Rick at the rain spattering the window. ‘Now they won’t let me go. I’m too important. If I went to Crater’s competitors . . . well, Crater wouldn’t like it. And you — they’d be scared of letting you go, for the same reasons. We know too much. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’

  Rick thought he did. But he shrugged. ‘Just say it, Daed. With nice short words.’

  ‘I can’t leave. Neither can you. Ever.’

  Rick nodded. Not because he agreed, but because there was nothing else to do. He said, ‘The complex . . . it’s a prison, isn’t it?’

  ‘For you and me, yes.’

  ‘And you . . . not even you can think of a way to get out?’

  Daed laughed, briefly. ‘I can think of hundreds of ways to get out,’ he said. ‘It’s just that we wouldn’t survive the next twenty-four hours.’

  ‘Because of — Undone, and the gangs, and the rain —?’

  ‘We could survive those, probably. No, because of Crater. And Customer Services. They’d track us.’

  They looked at each other.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ Rick said. ‘Really, nothing?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Daed said, but his voice was hollow, with something hidden inside it, like a box. ‘Just stay here. Make the most of it. Enjoy the party.’

  Enjoy the party. It had an odd ring, like an insult. Rick couldn’t help himself. He said, ‘We’ll be here for ever.’

  ‘Until we die,’ Daed said, and he closed his eyes, as if he was too tired to go on. ‘There’s always that, to look forward to.’

  It sounded like a joke. It had to be a joke. But . . . no, it didn’t sound like a joke. Not quite. A kind of empty grey horror rose through Rick, and he clenched his hands on the duvet to keep himself still. It was like one of those dreams, where you couldn’t run or move out of the way. If he’d looked up, he’d have seen the ceiling collapsing, falling towards him in deadly slow-motion.

  ‘Rick . . .’

  He looked up, surprised.

  Daed had opened his eyes. They shone, weird and beautiful in his old man’s face. He looked . . . worried. He said, ‘You’re not really unhappy, are you?’

  Rick blinked. Then he wanted to laugh, or to cry. But he was frozen, speechless. Someone’s hacked Daed’s account, he thought, blankly. Same face, same avatar, but the person behind it is someone I don’t know . . .

  The silence went on. And finally, like a trickle of moisture pushing its way gently through a dam, Rick thought: Maybe he is my father. Maybe he really is.

  He thought of Athene, who was dead now, and Perdita, and Jake — no, Jason — and the Security man, who might be dead or alive, Rick didn’t even know. The panic rose and swirled like a flood. He took a deep breath.

  ‘No, Daed,’ he said. ‘Relax. I’m just a bit under the weather. You’re right. I’ll enjoy the party.’

  ‘Good.’ Daed’s gaze slid away. ‘You should be glad to be here. Food, shelter, unlimited access to the Maze . . . luxury . . .’ He gestured vaguely at the swimming pool. The shark flipped its tail and changed direction.

  ‘That’s right,’ Rick said.

  A pause. Daed nodded. ‘See you later, then. At the launch, if not before.’ He sounded hundreds of years old.
Perhaps he was.

  ‘Yes,’ Rick said. He’d never felt so lonely in his life.

  He watched Daed go. The rain splashed and clattered against the window, relentless. He thought about throwing a chair through the glass. But it would have been painful, to die like that. And he didn’t want to die.

  In the end he got up and went to look at the iTank. He stood outside it, running his hand down the smooth white contours, admiring the design. It wasn’t quite cylindrical; the curves were subtle, like something organic. He wanted to go inside. He wanted to like it.

  If I try it, he thought, that’s it. I’ve lost. I’m giving up. I’ve stopped fighting, and I’ll live here for ever. I’m letting Crater and Paz and Customer Services win. That’s the choice.

  There’s nothing else I can do.

  The tank responded to the touch of his hand, rippling faintly silver. The door slid open, inviting him in.

  He stood there for a long time.

  And then — inevitably, without even feeling much, except tired — he went in, and the door shut behind him.

  Chapter 19

  The ruins of somewhere beautiful are spread out around him. Above the last ribs of the roof there’s a clear sky, just beginning to glow red with the sunset. In the emptiness between the pillars there are leaves drifting down, slowly, glinting gold and scarlet and crimson where they turn in the sunlight. Underfoot the paving-stones are overgrown with thin yellow grass and moss.

  And space. There’s so much space. The scale of it . . .

  He feels the hair rising on the back of his neck.

  He pivots on his heels, looking around. He swallows, and swallows again, caught off-guard by so much loveliness. The other side of the sky is a pale blue, throwing the outlines of the ruins into silhouette. He sees broken towers and a staircase that leads nowhere, a little tree pushing out horizontally from a wall.

  Oh, Daed . . .

  He can smell . . . but he doesn’t have words for it. Something fresh, something clean. No, not clean. Things growing. A garden smell. But not a synth smell, not how it would smell in the Maze. Oh, the difference . . . He blinks. Water runs down his cheeks. He laughs. He doesn’t want to exhale; he wants to keep inhaling, for ever, always breathing this air, always smelling this smell. It’s the smell of everything he never realised he wanted. It’s the smell of quietness and seeds and peace and sunlight and and and —