The Game (The Game is Life)

by Terry Schott

  “Any ideas what attributes and credit purchases she made before going in?” Brandon asked.

  “Of course.” Michelle paused as she tapped a few commands onto the tablet. “Seems like she didn’t have many credits, and she wasted almost all of them.”

  “Let me see,” Brandon said. Michelle handed him the tablet and he looked it over. After a complete scrutiny of Alex’s stats, he handed the tablet back.

  “Looks harmless enough. From experience, I know the Mainframe will never allow her purchases to manifest in the Game, but it accepts the credits from those foolish enough to spend them that way. So, then, nothing interesting on Alex yet?” He looked at Kate, the young woman who was in charge of following Alex.

  “Well, sir, I received only one strange report about her. I can’t confirm it, but my source is usually very reliable.”

  “What is it?” Brandon asked absently, He was bored and ready to leave.

  “Raphael has apparently been seen near her, sir, and it appears that he is guarding her from a safe distance.”

  Brandon’s eyes snapped to lock on to Kate’s. His intense gaze forced her to take an involuntary step backwards. He started to say something, but closed his mouth with an audible snap.

  Brandon’s eyes flicked to Michelle’s. “Confirm that by tomorrow when we convene at 2 PM, Michelle. If Raphael’s sniffing around, that is a big development.”

  When Brandon left the room, the team exploded into activity.

  Chapter 16

  No one expected the Game to attract much of an audience. A virtual reality simulation where kids played in a world exactly like our own? Who would want to watch people waking up every day and going to a boring job, scraping out a regular life of monotony and boredom?

  Psychology experts, however, predicted that regular people would become obsessed with the Game, and they were right. Viewer statistics and preferences are easily tracked, and the facts they show are amazing.

  Viewers love to watch it all. Not just the happy moments and the exciting, large events; they are there for the pain and misery as well. For example, a recent event was just viewed, with record numbers tuning in to observe the final moments of Joanna, a 42-year-old Earth woman. Her life had been sad, frustrating, and unremarkable. At the age of 42, she’d given up all hope and bought enough heroin to end her depressing life. As thoughts of despair and sadness overwhelmingly filled her mind, she inserted the needle and ended her avatar’s life. A small, seemingly insignificant event, yet record audience numbers tuned in to experience it.

  If you can watch someone else’s life and be drawn into it, you can escape your own for a time. Fans sum it up with the popular phrase… 'The Game is Life.'

  Danielle, 8 years old.

  “Ready?” I look over and my three friends are bent down with their hands on the line we’ve drawn in the dirt. Tommy, Cindy, and Mike all look at me and smile. They can’t beat me, but they sure look like they want to try.

  I yell “Go!!!!” and then I’m running. I know they’re going to stay on the street. They must know I’m jumping over the hood of that car, and I do! Now Cindy and Mike are a bit behind us. Tommy’s ahead, but that’s fine, Tommy always starts strong, then tries to take a swing at me as he loses speed and I pass him.

  The light ahead is red. Cars are zooming along in front of us and I smile. I hope Tommy stays with me, but as I sprint even faster into the speeding traffic I hear him skid to a stop, yelling for me to stop too, but I won’t. It’s a game, and I play to win.

  I make it to the other side pretty easily; only one car comes close to hitting me, but he slams on the brakes and honks his horn. I just smile and wave. Usually this is the point where I stop and turn around to bow and wave, but I want to try out something new, so I put my head down and just keep running towards the garbage dumpster up ahead.

  We saw Tommy’s older brother and his friends climbing up buildings, doing backflips, and all other sorts of fun stuff. They called it parkour (I think that’s what they called it — I don’t really know, but it looked cool!) so I’m gonna try it.

  I get close to the garbage bin and jump as hard as I can. I thud right into it — ow! — but I manage to get my hands onto the top of the bin and I start to kick my legs fast, struggling to climb to the top. I grunt, I moan, I kick, I climb until finally I’m on top of it! Very cool, I’m parkouring! I look around for something else to climb, and there it is! A fire escape that I might just barely be able to reach. I go for it, and I make it. I keep looking for stuff to climb, and by the time the others catch up I’m halfway up the outside of the building, sitting on a window ledge swinging my legs with a grin on my face.

  “What are you doing up there, goofball?” Cindy asks, smiling. Of all the girls I know, Cindy is the coolest. We spend all our time together.

  “I’m parkouring! Like Jim and his friends were,” I say, proud of myself. I enjoy being the first in our group to do stuff.

  “Jim and his friends are idiots,” Tommy says. “My mom says one of them are going to kill themselves doing it.”

  I shrug. “Everyone dies, Tommy. If they did a cool stunt while dying… that would be awesome!”

  Tommy rolled his eyes. This was common talk from me; they were getting used to it. “Just come on and let’s go. Mom gave me money for ice cream. I’ll buy for all of us.”

  I stand up and dust my hands off. “Ok, be right down. I was just waiting for you all to catch up and watch this.”

  “Watch what?” Mike asks cautiously.

  “My back flip to the ground.”

  The three of them don’t seem happy. “Um, Danielle… that’s a bit high to be back flipping from.”

  I laugh at them. Cowards! “It’s fine. Just wait a minute and I’ll be ready to go.” I turn my back to them and put my hands above my head. I’m silently counting to three, ‘cause I always jump after three, when I hear an adult voice from below.

  “I bet you can do it, no problem, Danni.” I frown. The voice is deep and has some kind of accent. Spanish, I think it’s called. My Aunt Vi dated a Spanish man and he sounded like that.

  I quickly look to see who has joined my friends below and there's a dark-skinned man with black hair pulled back into a ponytail smiling up at me. He looks nice and friendly. I wave. He waves back.

  “Do me a favour, Danni; first try should be from just a bit lower. Why don’t you show us how you can climb back down to the dumpster and do the back flip from there?”

  I shrug and start to jump towards the dumpster, landing here, jumping from there, grabbing onto that, until I’m standing back on the dumpster lid. “Are you sure?” I ask the man. “This doesn’t seem very hard. It’s barely off the ground…”

  I turn my back and just flip; I already counted when I was up higher. I tuck my legs in and start to swing — I’ve done backflips before, just from the ground and on the trampoline. I stick my feet out and land just right, but the pavement is hard and I start to stumble. Is that traffic I’m falling towards? Ah, crap, I can’t stop. Hope the cars see me.

  But just as I’m about to fall onto the street, a hand catches me. It’s a strong hand and I know there’s no way I’m going to be hurt while it’s holding me. Of course it’s the Spanish man. We both smile at the same time.

  “Perfect, Danni. That was all you,” he says. He looks proud of me.

  “No one calls me Danni,” I say, “But I like it.”

  “I’m glad. My name is Raphael. You be sure to stay safe, Danni. Have a great day.” He walks away.

  I watch him go, then head over to join my friends. Parkouring and ice cream… it’s a good day.

  Chapter 17

  It’s impossible to directly influence the Game. The workings of the Game are so complex and interwoven that it would be like trying to find a specific grain of sand on the beaches of the world. Even a supercomputer wouldn’t be able to do that quickly enough to make any difference. If we wanted to make a precise and specific change tomorrow, or next week, or
even 100 years from now on Earth, by the time all the computations and variables were factored in, the date would have passed. And what difference could a small change really make? Using this same analogy, if you did find that one grain of sand, made it into a tiny bomb, then placed it back on the beach to explode… no one would see or hear the explosion. No, the only things that the Games Masters have had any success at is programming large things such as weather patterns to ensure minimal droughts or floods, tidal patterns to make certain the Moon doesn’t affect the Earth too much, and underwater currents to help prevent the Earth from becoming too hot or too cold. Communication with avatars? No, that also is quite impossible. It would take more than even Mainframe to achieve that. To be completely honest, it’s not something we’ve looked at trying. The purpose of the Game is for students to forget this life and learn with a blank slate. What would the point be for us to try and communicate with them? It would be too much for them to handle and completely ruin their chance to learn from their play. Knowledge is gained along the way on the journey; it’s not all sitting on the finish line.

  World feed interview with ‘Foundation’ - Lead Games Master in year 23 of the Game.

  Greg Wassler was nervous. No matter how many times he sat in this room, waiting to meet the boss, he felt both thrilled and nervous. Today it was mostly nervous.

  The room was dark and silent, three columns of bright light from the ceiling displaying the boss’s desk, the door to the office, and the visitors’ chair which Greg was sitting in. The darkness was heavy. Greg was 30 levels below ground under the VirtDyne building, and he could feel the tons of concrete pressing down on him. Sitting up straighter, he scolded himself for being apprehensive. Games Masters shouldn’t be jumpy and nervous.

  Thinking back seven years into the past made him smile proudly. Greg had been an excellent player of the Game, excelling at computer skills and development during his lifetimes of play. When he was invited to apply for Games Master, he jumped at the chance. There were tens of thousands of programmers, all working hard to stand out enough to someday be considered for one of the coveted twelve Games Master positions. It was unheard of for a fresh graduate from the Game to be considered.

  Greg soon found himself competing against 12 other graduates, for not one of the twelve positions, but for a top secret thirteenth position. Games Masters all had titles that they took for their names when they accepted the position. Greg had fought hard and fierce to beat all of his competitors and earn the title of ‘Hack,’ the thirteenth secret Games Master, known only by a select and elite few on Tygon. Knowing that he technically didn’t exist had disappointed Greg at first, but as he began to work in his new position, he learned that it was wise for no one to know what he was doing. For the past seven years, he’d been working on a project started decades earlier by his predecessors; an impossible project that Greg Wassler had just successfully completed.

  Hack had been waiting for his boss for some time, but he was patient. This was the first time Hack had called the meeting. He knew it would be worth the wait to see his superior’s surprise.

  A voice from behind the desk startled Hack out of his thoughts. The chair turned and the boss was sitting there, a pleased smile on his face. “So, Hack, you’ve succeeded. It’s ready?”

  “Yes, Mr. Strayne. It’s ready.”

  Brandon was visibly excited. He’d been waiting thirty years to hear this news. Many times he’d given up hope that he ever would. The timing, although long overdue, was perfect. “Tell me how it works,” he said.

  “It’s very simple,” Hack said. “You walk into the room, put the helmet on, and place your hands in the provided slots. Then relax and count backwards from ten. Before you reach ten, you’ll be Firsting your target, live. Then, you wait for the right moment and interrupt their self-narration.”

  Brandon just sat there silently. Hack looked back at him calmly; he knew the question that needed confirmation.

  “So I can directly communicate with an avatar?” Brandon asked.

  Hack smiled widely. “Yes, sir.”

  “And I don’t have to be put into a coma to achieve this?”

  “Not at all, sir,” Hack assured him.

  “Incredibly well done, Hack.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “How many avatars have you tested it with?” Brandon asked.

  “Twelve avatars all tested successfully, Mr. Strayne. Different ages and class levels in the Game. I’m certain you can do it with any avatar.”

  “And Mainframe? Did it detect you?”

  “Not that I can tell. But that doesn’t mean no for sure. I advise keeping the conversation low, and limited to not too many avatars. The more you do it the more ‘noise’ you make, which increases the likelihood of detection.”

  Brandon nodded. “I will keep that in mind.”

  “There is one serious issue that needs to be remembered,” Hack said. “If anyone is Firsting the targeted avatar, or watching them on the viewers, they will hear you as well. Detection by fans is your biggest danger.”

  “Yes, but we’ve thought of that. No one watches an avatar when they are meditating, right?”

  “Correct. For decades, when avatars meditate or pray, we’ve scrambled the signals so no viewer can have access. Even when Firsting an avatar these two times are inaccessible,” Hack said.

  Brandon smiled. “Perfect. What did you do about the test avatars? They knew they were spoken to, and not while meditating I assume?” Hack nodded. “So anyone following them could put it together.”

  “They weren’t popular avatars, sir, and they all met with unfortunate accidents. I’ve been monitoring every mention of them from viewers; we are clear. Even if someone did notice, who would believe them? The truth for thirty years has been that no one can communicate inside the Game from the outside. If a fan claimed it was possible, they’d be labelled conspiracy theorists.”

  Brandon nodded. “Since you succeeded, we both know what must happen now.”

  Hack nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Greg.” Brandon said.

  Hack shrugged. “I agreed to the terms when I came on board, sir. If I succeeded, I’d have to ‘disappear’ in order to make sure there was no chance of me sharing the secret. There’s a price for knowledge, and it’s a price Greg Wassler agreed to pay willingly for the opportunity to become Hack.”

  Brandon nodded. “Okay then, Hack. Greg Wassler officially dies at age 25. You can’t see anyone from your old life ever again. It won’t be all bad. It’s a big world, and I reward loyalty.”

  Hack smiled. “I haven’t really had a life in seven years anyway, Mr. Strayne. May I ask one very personal question?”

  “Of course.”

  “What are you going to do with this ability to talk directly to avatars?”

  Brandon smiled. “I’m going to become a God.”

  Chapter 18

  “Well, it’s been less than a week since December 21, 2012 came and went inside the Game. Despite popular theory, Earth did not end in a catastrophe predicted thousands of years earlier by the ancient Mayan civilization of Earth. Almost every eligible player has gone into the Game to join in the 30th anniversary celebrations, many hoping to gain bonus credits or perhaps be involved in story lines that gain the attention and following of fans. Earth journalists are reporting alarming swells in the population which adds a dynamic to the Game not seen in some time. And let’s not forget the real story all of Tygon is tuning in for —how will Zack’s avatar, Trew Radfield, perform during his life? Our best attempts to uncover strategy and planning from Zack’s camp have turned up nothing. I guess that’s to be expected since his Patron could fire us all at the drop of a hat. Most fans will begin to tune in now that Trew has begun to self-narrate. Not to be out done, Alexandra’s young avatar, Danielle Benton is also self narrating at the age of eight. She has her core following and I must admit that so far she’s much more entertaining than Trew. Of course, it’s very early in their plays. We c
an expect many weeks of fun and entertainment before they die of old age. Unless they don’t make it that far…”

  Video Feed from “30th anniversary Game update”

  Trew Radfield, age 9

  Mom’s yelling something at me from downstairs. It’s the third or tenth time she’s yelled. That many tries must mean she wants me to answer her, so I turn down the music and open the door a bit. “Pardon?” I yell down.

  She comes to the foot of the stairs looking up at me. Uh-oh. I should have answered sooner.

  “I said you need to get ready for class, Trew. You know what day it is. Quit ignoring me, young man — there’s no way to get out of this. Life is not just some big game, although you seem to think so.”

  I grin down at her and start to walk down the stairs. I’m ready to go, I was just playing with her. “What if it is just a game, Mom?” I kiss her on the cheek as I pass by. She’s such a great Mom, I love her so much!

  “If it was, then you’d need another life because I’m tempted to end this one for you!” Mom tries to look upset, but I can always make her smile. I have that effect on people.

  “Will Dad be there?” I ask.

  “He sure will. He’s sitting in the driveway now, waiting for us.” She opens the door and out we go.

  It’s bright and hot out, a beautiful summer day for grown-up strangers to discuss. It’s too hot for me, though, in my karate gi. I hope they have the air conditioning on, but I know that on test day they never do.

  Dad unrolls the car window, a big smile on his face, and sticks his hand outside. I slap his palm with mine as I walk by, smiling back. I try to open the back door, but it’s locked. Staring at me through the window is the brat, my seven-year-old sister, Tara. She knows I love sitting behind Dad, which is why she takes the spot every time she can.