[Brackets]

by Sloan, David

  “Don’t have to tell me,” Tucker stated with finality. “I’ve missed too much of this game already.”

  Bell fixed him with another appraising stare, and the two bracket holders were waved out of the restaurant.

  “He’s pleasant,” Tucker muttered.

  “He’s just trying to keep everyone safe,” Cole returned. “Ichabod is a dangerous dude.”

  Tucker glanced at Cole with a pang of guilt.

  “Hey, I should tell you something.” Tucker licked his lips. “I, uh, I think I saw Ichabod yesterday morning. While I was out jogging.”

  “What?”

  “He came up to me in the street and was really weird. Kept asking me if I thought I would win and if I liked seeing into the future. He didn’t say his name or anything, but I figured it was him after—” Tucker tripped over his words and paused for a moment. “After he mentioned you by name.”

  Cole exhaled slowly and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Sorry, man, I actually went up to tell you, but you were asleep and Nera answered the door and… I just thought that things would be safe and it would be a bigger problem if you left.”

  Cole looked around and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now, we all know he’s here. I didn’t say anything the first time I saw him either. But he’s seriously crazy, so next time, tell someone. A lot of people ended up getting hurt because I kept what I knew to myself.”

  “Absolutely. You’re right.” Tucker turned as he heard heightened cheering from the stadium. “So is Nera okay with everything?” he asked.

  Cole cleared his throat. “Um, I should get back. See you at half time.”

  Both men settled back into their seats for the final three minutes. The score at the half: Nebraska 23, UCLA 24.

  [Championship Game: Halftime]

  The entrance to the Presidential luxury suites was down a short flight of stairs off of the second-floor concourse. It was a much-touted feature of the recent Verizon Center renovations, and it was specifically designed to give visiting dignitaries maximum security and maximum amenities at a maximum price. The isolated skybox entryway had a guard in front of it. A second guard was stationed in front of the Potomac Skybox, ready to stop any stranger who might try to disrupt the peace of the South Korean delegation.

  A minute apart from each other, Tucker and Henry, then Cole and Nera, made their way to the entrance and were admitted past the guards. From a safe, unseen distance, the blue-jacketed Marshall Bell observed their entrance while he talked on the phone.

  Further away still, another pair of eyes noticed the Marshall’s peculiar, clandestine behavior. The Marshall was agitated but trying to hide it. Whenever he tried to speak, he only got two words out before halting. Whenever he was interrupted, he would roll his eyes or wipe the sweat from beneath the baseball cap on his balding head. The conversation wasn’t going well. The Marshall finally said “yeah,” hung up, and immediately dove into his pocket and pulled out a handful of chocolate-covered peanuts. To the careful eyes watching, this was clearly no lawman.

  But the time to act had not yet come. Patience.

  * * * *

  “Tucker! Seriously, rock twice?”

  It took Tucker a moment to orient himself to the voice yelling gregariously at him from across the ritzy skybox. Twenty plush seats were lined up in the center of the room like a small movie theater, but most of the people were milling about the sides or back, circulating around the large spread of food and the minibar. The front of the room was dominated by the most dynamic, provocative virtual display that any of the four had ever seen, embedded somehow into the large viewing windows. They could clearly see the hip-hop dance troop performing in the half-time show, but the view was impossibly close and crisp. The illusion of being right there was almost too good, like a dream that felt too real. The four were so mesmerized by it that Rick O’Shea was able to walk right up behind Tucker and slap him on the shoulder completely unanticipated.

  “You know what’s interesting about you, Tucker,” Rick philosophized glibly, “and I was thinking about it even before you choked down there. You are a genius with these complex, dynamic groups, but I think you have some trouble one-on-one. Individuals don’t cancel each other out, so they’re harder to predict moment by moment. That may be your kryptonite.”

  “Wait, wait, Tucker’s a genius? And Superman?” Cole asked.

  Henry shrugged. “It’s news to me, too, and I raised him.”

  “But it doesn’t surprise you, does it?” Rick said with a wink.

  “No, sir. Like I said: I raised him.”

  Their focus went back to the display. “Amazing, isn’t it?” Rick said. “It’s new ChangZhang technology. The company bought the booth so they can test these new displays. They want to capture that Kaah Mukul magic and translate it into a massive crowd experience without having to wear those awful headsets. And what you’re seeing isn’t even the full effect. They turned it way down for halftime. You should stay up here when the game starts so you can see the full display and feel the rumble of the surround sound. Of course,” he added without missing a beat, “nothing beats having the pages of a good book in your hand. Am I right?”

  Rick led them up to the food table which they attacked without hesitation, Henry first in line. They were soon joined by Abby, accompanied by an older man who caught their collective attention without saying a word. His graying hair and genial step conveyed the assertive aura of one who had long ago become accustomed to being the most important man in the room.

  “Cole Kaman, Nera Pedrad, Henry and Tucker Barnes, I’d like you to meet Dr. Bryan Casing, our beloved boss.”

  Casing shook everyone’s hands cordially. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting all of you. Have you been enjoying the game?” They all had. “Good. We’ve been following the unexpected twists and turns with you four, so let’s hope that all that begins well, ends well.” He turned to Cole. “I’d made a point of watching the Boston College game, and I was quite concerned when Dr. Faulkner provoked that fight with you at the end. Did you ever find out what made him do it?”

  Cole shrugged. “He thought I’d cheated on my bracket, like someone had told me what to put down or something. I think he just had issues with losing.”

  Casing was quiet for a moment. “It’s tragic when someone invests so much in winning that they can’t deal with failure. Nothing is worse than an inability to cope with the inevitable.”

  “I guess,” said Cole, who was unprepared for deep conversation.

  “So very true,” Rick mused as he put an arm around Abby. “I remember when I first met Abby and I knew immediately that we’d be together. She was miserable for months trying to ignore my existence. It was fortunate that, when my ways finally prompted the inevitable to occur, it was only her fiancé that lost his marbles.”

  Abby clasped Rick’s hand and nodded soberly. “Poor Raúl.”

  “Well,” said Casing, turning back toward Tucker and Cole, “I’m certain that whoever wins and whoever loses will make gracious exits tonight. What you have both done is astounding. Even so, it can be hard to be as accepting of the end of a lucky break as you are to accept the beginning.”

  Rick raised his cup. “It’s like Bryan always says: ‘Control is the goal, eat rolls in a bowl, patrol all the shoals, and extol all the Coles’. Or something like that.”

  “Yes, something like that,” Casing nodded with a wry, somewhat forced smile. “Tucker, I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have such close and continual contact with Rick and Abby these past few weeks.”

  “We can,” Nera said under her breath.

  “I know that you don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted you all to go meet our host, Mr. Myung-Ki Noh. He’s upstairs, and he insisted that he get the chance to meet you two.” Casing pointed to Cole and Tucker.

  “I’ve heard of Myung-Ki Noh,” Cole said. “Doesn’t he have something to do with Kaah Mukul?”

  “He invented Kaah Muk
ul,” replied Casing, amused.

  “Oh. Wow.”

  “All of this technology you see, those screens up front and everything else, it’s all a beta test and some of the people in the room are potential investors, including us. So eat up, he’s excited to show you some of his latest toys.” Casing turned to Tucker and his dad. “Although, I was hoping to borrow Tucker here for a few minutes before you go up, if you don’t mind, Henry.”

  “Take him,” said Henry, who had returned to the buffet.

  Casing motioned for Tucker to sit down on one of the chairs overlooking the arena.

  “I wanted to thank you for helping out Rick and Abby with the Wol Pot situation,” Casing said as he sat across from Tucker.

  “It didn’t help much much,” said Tucker. “Now that everyone knows about the deal, it’s going to get real hard for them over there.”

  “Yes, the leak was unfortunate. Many Hands is not a group that balks at playing countries off of each other.”

  “You think Many Hands leaked it?”

  “It sounds like something they would do, don’t you think? In fact, it’s my understanding that those protestors outside have significant financial backing from some suspicious Southeast Asian sources. You can ask the foreign minister about it later, if you get the chance. He’s quite worked up about it.” Casing waved his hand to change the subject. “But I didn’t pull you over to talk about politics. I have an offer for you.”

  “You’re finally going to tell me who you people are?”

  Casing nodded. “I will, soon, but since we don’t have a lot of time right now, I just wanted to introduce you to an idea and we can discuss the details later. My group is building a research facility in Kentucky which we are looking to fill. Rick and Abby have suggested that you would be a good fit, and I’m inclined to trust their judgment. The facility itself won’t be ready until next year, but there is plenty to prepare for until then. You could begin working with us by the first of May, after the end of the semester.”

  Tucker found himself feeling simultaneously confused and honored. “Dr. Casing, that all sounds cool and all, but I’m not interested in research.”

  “What are you interested in, Tucker?” Casing asked.

  “I mean, I’m going to law school. Where I come from, there are a lot of people that need legal help. They get screwed over by big companies and banks all the time. I want to go back and help and be the kind of lawyer who fights for them, you know, works for the people there.”

  Casing nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a worthy goal, Tucker. Your intentions are good, and if that’s what you decide to do, you will have my full respect. But I want to open your mind to another possibility.” Casing leaned forward, a glint of youth lighting up his eyes. “Tucker, you have rare talents. They’re relatively raw, and, it seems to me, not ideally utilized. What we want to do at our facility, it won’t be like any other place in the world. If you come work for us, I promise you, you’ll be able to reach a measure of your potential that no other endeavor could help you achieve.”

  “Doing what?” Tucker asked. He still knew next to nothing about what Casing was offering.

  Casing smiled. “Our research groups will have a unique organizational structure, and they’ll be competing to—” Casing paused, searching for the words. “The thing you need to know right now, Tucker, the reason you’ll be so good at this is because you’ll be organized into teams.”

  Abby stepped up behind them. Casing noticed and reached over to pat Tucker’s shoulder. “Go ahead. Don’t keep Noh waiting. I want to stay in his good graces.”

  “This way,” Abby called, gathering Tucker, Cole, and Nera. Henry had elected to stay close to the cookie platter and talk to Rick. As they went to a small door in the corner of the room, Tucker looked back at Casing, who nodded back. At that moment, Tucker realized with some astonishment that for the first time in years, he felt like his own future wasn’t entirely set in stone.

  Abby ushered her group through the door and up a wide staircase that led to a smaller room on top of the skybox. As they walked up, Cole whispered to Nera, “You know what’s weird? Just before the Final Four while he was telling me about his brackets paranoia, Perry asked if I had ever been to Kaah Mukul. Now we’re going to meet the man who made it. Weird, right?”

  Nera whispered back, “You know what’s weirder? If you write ‘Kaah Mukul’ backwards and translate it from ancient Mayan, it literally means ‘city of the gullible’. Could there be a connection?” Cole laughed and raced Nera up the last few steps. Nera won.

  The room into which they emerged was as cluttered and uncomfortable as the skybox beneath them was opulent. Black cables snaked around haphazardly between network servers and monitors. In the center of the room was a black swivel chair facing a recessed window that jutted over the arena. A shock of spiky hair poked out above the chair and hands holding controllers moved about rapidly on either side. Abby tapped the man’s shoulder. He put up one finger to ask them to wait a moment, and then, with a few twists of his wrists, he emerged from where he had been, removed his mask, and joined them in the real world.

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” said Mr. Noh matter-of-factly, looking out the window to the clock counting down on the Jumbotron. “We haven’t much time.” He stood, somewhat shakily, and pulled out several face masks from an open box on the floor. “You may put these on. Here’s one for the girl also. You see how you can adjust it?” Cole didn’t, but Mr. Noh left little time for questions as he set up the three young people with folding chairs and controllers.

  “Like this,” Tucker whispered, and Nera reached over to help Cole fasten the face wrap.

  “All set? Good. Let’s go down,” said Mr. Noh. Instantly, Cole’s visual field was clouded over in a gray mist, and he had the sensation of jumping off a high dive into a warm pool. When it cleared up a moment later, they were inside a room similar to their skybox, but larger and completely glassed in, almost crystalline in appearance. It overlooked a regulation-sized basketball court, devoid of players, fans, or life of any kind. Cole looked down and saw himself, rippling with muscles beneath armored blue leather. He tried to make himself turn around so he could find Nera, but he couldn’t stop running into the walls.

  “Need some help?” At Nera’s voice in his earpiece, Cole’s muscular avatar turned too quickly and smacked into her.

  “Uh, sorry,” he said. “These hand control thingies must not be working right.”

  “Didn’t you ever have a game console growing up?” Tucker came over, another huge figure moving with the grace of virtual gravity.

  “Well yeah, but this is a little different than Halo. Just give me a minute, I’ll figure it out.”

  Cole got himself out of his sticky corner and turned to find Myung-Ki Noh coming toward them.

  “Welcome to the Montezuma Arena,” he said, arms opening to the arena’s grandeur. “Normally this space is reserved for Ullamaball, but the arena is closed for the day so I can work on integrating the basketball game into the staging system. Please go to the window and watch.”

  The three went over to the seamless windows and looked down. In an instant, the court was filled with virtual basketball players from Nebraska and UCLA, and the mammoth stands filled with screaming fans. The sounds came to their ears, and they felt transported back to the real game.

  “Whoa,” Nera said softly. Mr. Noh seemed to like her reaction.

  “Aside from myself, you are the first in the world to see this,” Noh explained. “Soon, every major sporting event in the world will be available in the Montezuma, viewable from any KM Center—for an admission price, of course, and a significant fee for the league involved. A deal with the Premier League is already in place. Soon, Ullamaball will no longer be a popular virtual sport among the host of real ones. It will be the most popular sport, because all sports will be virtual.”

  The three just stared for a moment. “So, those are all the real players, right? Are all the people aroun
d them real, too, and you just kind of…beamed them in there?” Nera asked,

  “Yes and no,” said Mr. Noh. “We have small holographic cameras placed around the court to capture everything. For now, the people in the stands, are from the first tier only, and each captured individual has been cloned several times to fill the arena. This is superior to simply populating the area with generated avatars because the live footage gives a sense of the spontaneity of the crowd movements.”

  Nera became curious. “So, were we in here?”

  “Perhaps. Where were you seated?” Nera indicated their seats. Noh turned to a virtual control panel beside the window, and all at once the players and crowds were moving very rapidly in reverse.

  “We are here now at the last play of the first half,” Noh said, stopping the footage. “You may be in luck since you are seated so close to the court. It becomes a little less certain as you get higher. And…” Noh zoomed and modified dexterously and finally homed in on two people, Cole and Nera, hunched forward as the final seconds ticked off. “There you are.” Noh clicked one last time, and the images of Cole and Nera were suddenly in six different locations in the arena, as if part of a large kaleidoscope.

  “Cool,” said Nera, waving to one of her selves.

  “Uhhh,” Tucker looked on incredulously, “so, you want everyone to come to these virtual games instead of going to games in person? Isn’t the game always going to be better live?”

  Mr. Noh stuck out his chin. “Not for much longer,” he enunciated confidently. “You saw those experimental displays down below? That is another phase of the same project. For years, people tried to use virtual worlds to either replicate the real world or to create worlds that are completely fantastical. What no one understood until Kaah Mukul was that this technology could be used to merge reality and virtual reality to enhance all sensory experience. In ten years, no one will be able to tolerate an unmodified sporting event. They simply won’t offer enough stimulation.”