by Terry Schott
“Well, she believes correctly,” Brandon’s father said.
“Yes, yes, I know! What I’m saying is she will be difficult to keep alive with that attitude. And there are so many other factors.”
“Sounds challenging, but at least you know. The end is near. Do your best. Time’s running out, boy. When she exits the Game…”
Brandon closed his eyes. “Then Mainframe shuts it all down and the Game ends. Forever.”
Chapter 31
“What would Tygon be like without the Game? Twenty years ago the answer would have been, ‘Tygon will be just fine, thank you.’ Today the answer isn’t something most of us want to seriously consider. Every industry relies on the Game for the majority of its business and prosperity. Does your neighbour rely on the Game for their income? Most would say yes, directly. For those that say no, think about one or two levels removed from your income. Look there and you will find reliance on the Game for financial support. Without the Game, we would soon be in economic ruin. That would lead to a complete collapse of every other industry we rely on. How did this happen? Slowly and comfortably. Governments and individuals, all of us happily gave control to Brandon Strayne. If we woke up tomorrow and the Game was no longer online, Tygon would be in chaos.”
Excerpt from “Society Doesn’t Just Want The Game, We Need It.”
Danielle age 16
“How come we don’t live longer?” I look at my computer monitor and ask Trew.
He looks up from his biology book. We’re studying online together, I have a big test tomorrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, our cells can live a long time. I read about an experiment where they kept chicken heart cells alive for 34 years. They could have kept them living longer, but they stopped the experiment. That’s a long time for a cell to survive — they usually only live a few months before they’re replaced and die, right?”
Trew starts to type on his keyboard. I know he’s doing an Internet search to see if I’m right. “Yeah, I think so.” He says. “Chickens only live, like, three to six years, so that’s pretty incredible.” He stops talking. Yeah, he’s reading something on his screen.
I wait for him to look up. “Why do you do that?” I ask him.
“Do what?” he asks.
“You were just reading about the chicken heart living for 34 years, right?”
He smiles. “Why would you think that?”
I blow the front of my hair upwards from the side of my mouth. “Just tell me if you were or not, Trew.”
He laughs, “Yes, that’s what I was doing. Does that bother you?”
“It bothers me if you do it because you think I’m stupid and want to prove me wrong,” I say.
His smile disappears. “No, Danni, that’s not it at all. I do it because when I hear about something I don’t know about, and it interests me, I ask about thirty questions and want to know all about it.”
I nod. “Yes, that’s certainly true…”
“Well, sometimes I know that’s annoying. So rather than bug you with a bunch of questions while I'm sitting at the computer, I just went to do a quick read on it. I didn’t doubt you. It sounded amazing and I figure the universe wanted me to hear about it, so I go do a quick search and bookmark it to read about later.”
“Okay,” I say. He seems sincere about what he’s saying.
“I’m sorry if it bugs you. I’ll try to stop doing it, okay?” he says.
“No, no. If that’s why you do it, then keep with it. I don’t want us to miss out on some good information because you’re afraid of hurting my feelings. If that’s what you think the universe is doing, then keep with it.”
The universe. That’s how we refer to the big supercomputer running this game we think we’re in. Some people hear us say God, or the Supercomputer, and get freaked out, so we decided to call it ‘the universe.’ It doesn’t really matter what we call it, — we could call it ‘Sylvia’ for all that it really matters — but calling it ‘the universe’ just feels right.
Both of us are convinced that the universe is trying to communicate with us. Not a booming voice coming from the sky or anything like that; it seems to be more intuitive and subtle. If you drive down the road looking for green sports cars, you’ll tend to see more green sports cars. You’ll see less of the red or yellow ones, even though they’re still there, because your focus isn’t on them. That’s what we think about messages from the universe. The more we look for them, the more we see.
“Okay, good stuff,” Trew says. “I’m sorry I interrupted your thought. What were you going to say about living longer?”
“Right,” I say. “Well, if a chicken cell can live for that much longer, how come humans die at around 70 to 100 years old? Some experts say if we treated our bodies correctly, it would be possible to easily live twice as long as that, and live those years healthy and fit, not like we do now. People in their 80’s or 90’s aren’t very fit or spry. Most of them aren’t really living a great life at those ages; they’re just alive because medicine can keep their weak old failing bodies going.”
“I think we just treat our bodies too poorly,” Trew says. “We eat, sleep, and drink wrong. We don’t exercise enough. We stress ourselves out with all sorts of mental things. Face it, humans are just a mess. Like George says in his book, if we treated our cars as poorly as we treat our bodies, the car would break down very quickly.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I say. “These bodies are just machines. We should treat them better if we expect them to last longer.”
“Definitely,” Trew nods. “But the bad stuff tastes sooo good. It’s so easy to treat our bodies poorly, and we don’t really worry about tomorrow. By the time we do, it’s too late to fix things.”
I look over at the empty pizza box by my computer. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Well, you know what we should do?”
“What?” Trew asks.
“We should really get interested in this biology subject, and also start to learn how the mind works as well. The subconscious is apparently something powerful too.”
“Okay,” Trew agrees. “It will likely help me with my leadership goals anyway.”
“All right, then. Yoga, Eastern medicine and Spirituality, Western medicine and Biology. Exercise and sports of all kinds.”
“And Psychology. Both Western and Eastern. And energy, karma, chakras, that kind of thing?” Trew asks.
“Yes, that sounds good too,” I say. “Let’s do our best to figure out how these machines we’re in work. Tune them up to get the most out of them.”
“Sounds like a lifelong study,” Trew says.
“Yeah, likely,” I say. “But it will help us out, so it’s worth it, right?”
“Absolutely,” Trew says. “When I’m 80 and can still walk around and remember my name and maybe even jog around the block, it’ll have been time well spent all these years learning about the human body.”
“I agree,” I say. “Plus it will be easier on me having you be able to walk instead of having to push your sorry old arse around in a wheelchair.”
We both laugh.
Chapter 32
They are given the name ‘Eternals’ because it’s believed they have been eternally inside the Game, since the beginning. Of course, Game creators and experts deny this. They say it’s impossible for players to be inside the Game that long; players can only be kept in stasis for seven to ten weeks at the maximum before their bodies can no longer handle the forced coma and lack of nutrition. For a player to be an Eternal, they would have to have been in stasis for — well, for 30 years! Most agree this is impossible, but I think that it is possible. I agree that children can only survive a coma for that a few weeks, especially when they are doing it many, many times over the course of their playing careers. But I think a full grown adult, who is going in only once or twice, extremely healthy at the start of their Game entry… I think they could survive the Game coma for much, much longer. Here’s another theory: what if someone is
in the Game, and their real body dies? Is it possible that their consciousness can stay ‘alive’ inside the Game? Or maybe they are just special Placeholders. There are millions of Placeholders inside the Game. They look and act like most humans, except they aren’t avatars being controlled by players. They are programs — millions of computer controlled automatons, doing a pre-programmed task. Placeholders can be schoolteachers, store clerks, manual labourers… they can be anything, really. The only way to spot a Placeholder is by viewing it. Many people have laughed when they chose to follow a new player and discovered it was just a Placeholder. What if the Eternals are just elaborate Placeholder programs, designed to perform specific jobs, while staying hidden from viewers like us? I think Eternals exist, and I’m not the only one. I demand to know who they are and what they are up to!
Excerpt from “The Game’s Great Mysteries”
Raphael
I can’t remember ever having such a boring, uneventful assignment. I’m not saying it hasn’t happened, but not for a long time.
Since some guy got her mom pregnant and then skipped out on her seventeen years ago, I’ve been watching Danielle. Yes, I’ve saved her life quite a few times, but if the kid had just spent even a few extra credits in luck and fortune I wouldn’t have needed to step in. I can’t figure out what she spent her credits on — the girl certainly plays this Game differently, and that’s saying a lot, because I’ve seen many, many players. She has no sense of fear. Hell, I think even Carl would stop and take notice of her absolute fearlessness. For a human… well, she plays the Game more like an Eternal.
Woah! Hey, is that what I’m seeing here? A new Eternal prospect? I start to laugh out loud at the thought, ignoring the strangers on the street who stop to look at me. If that’s the case, it might explain the new development I’m watching unfold.
I’m standing outside the local library. It’s not a busy place these days, so few kids read. Instead they spend their time playing games and hanging out at malls. Not my girl, though, Danni’s inside, studying away. Every once in a while I go in and sit with her. I scramble most of our interactions, so I remain unseen to her fans.
See that guy over there? The one in the red hoodie? Yeah, if anyone is bothering to view me, that’s the one you need to look into. He’s coming out of the Game today, courtesy of me.
He strolled into town two weeks ago and immediately set up shop near the library, following my girl from here when she leaves. I can see he’s looking for a pattern to her routes, but lucky for us, I’ve spent time teaching Danni not to ever take the same route more than once or twice. When you hire me you don’t just get protection, you get training as well. Since I have no idea who put me here and haven’t heard any word that I’m doing wrong, I’m giving the platinum service that was purchased.
Danni has been making it impossible for this hack to get a good bead on her, which has allowed me to get a real good pattern on him. He’s low quality. No clue that he’s being followed at all. Just because you’re the hunter doesn’t mean you can’t also be prey. This guy’s either a novice crack pot with some sick urge, or a very low class killer.
You don’t get bonus points for being killed by an Eternal, do you? If so, I hate to help this guy out.
Danielle comes out and crosses the street, on her way home, it looks like. He waits for her to get down the block, then starts to follow. I follow him; he seems to be unaware of me.
Danielle turns the corner, and as he slows down, I get close and stumble into him. He takes a step back to avoid my clumsy fall, which puts him off balance. I lash upwards catching him right under the jaw, just hard enough to stun him for a couple seconds. As he falls backwards from my punch, I’m already behind to lower him to the ground. We are in a great spot — picked by me of course — and with two quick steps he’s off the street and in a deserted back alley. I let him fall down hard onto the ground and tie both of his hands together with a plastic tie wrap. I then slam him onto his back, hearing the breath forced from his lungs, tie wrapping his feet together as well.
Just like I’m tossing a side of beef around, I pull him up onto his knees, using one more tie wrap to join his bound hands and feet together.
There, now he’s kneeling in front of me with his back to the wall, properly secured. A quick hog tie, with no one around to applaud my skills.
Okay, I’m turning on my scrambler. Channel 74552. I’ll count to twenty, you know, just in case someone's viewing me.
He’s regained both consciousness and breath; still looks a little confused, though. I’ll help with that. I pull out a wicked looking knife from behind my back, the blade black except for a thin edge of silver. I kneel down, relaxed and smiling. “Hello, little hunter. This isn’t turning out to be your day, is it? I have three questions for you, and I’m not in a mood to play games. I realize in books and movies the young hero is caught and bound but still has enough bravery to resist cooperating with their captor. This isn’t a book or movie, little hunter. Think about this before the questions come. When they do come, you be sure to answer them quickly and truthfully. If you hesitate, it means you are lying, and I kill liars immediately. Don’t nod, don’t speak, just sit there and think about my warning. The only chance you have to survive this is to answer my three questions when they come.”
I look at him calmly for perhaps thirty seconds, my eyes telling him that all I see in front of me is a curious creature that I would prefer to kill. It’s effective to do this; they sense my intention, and often it helps them cooperate. I search him thoroughly, looking through his pockets.
In his back pocket I find a picture of Danielle, with her name, age and address written on the back. In another pocket I discover a cell phone and some identification. Identification? It’s likely fake, or this guy is very careless. There, see his name? Check it out when you view this. Next I feel inside his hoodie — there, I can feel a weapon. Let me just see what he has on him here…
I pull the weapon out and almost drop it. It’s a thin rod, about five inches long and an inch thick, tapered to a point. There’s a small button on the handle of it, and the colour of the entire spike is gold and silver with a textured digital finish. It looks like a spike covered in gold and silver computer chips and solder points. It’s warm to the touch and gives off a soft humming vibration. My eyes and my mind turn to ice. This isn’t a replica, it’s the real thing. A Sever Spike.
I hold it up in front of him. “You were going to use this? On her?”
He answers quickly, “That’s what I was told to do, yes. Push the button and stab her in the left eye.”
“Do you know what that would do?” I ask flatly.
“Well, I imagine it would kill her,” he says.
I begin to shake with fury. This idiot has no idea what he has. “It wouldn’t just kill her. It would kill her real body as well.”
The bound man looks confused. “What do you mean? That makes no sense.”
“Not to you, idiot. But it makes sense to whoever paid you to kill her.” I want to make him dead. Right now. Someone wants to use a Sever Spike on this little girl? They want to kill not just her avatar, but the actual player lying on a bed somewhere on Tygon? Stephanie said Danielle was Alexandra Montoyas. Who the hell would want to do this to her? Are you hearing me? Is anyone viewing me! If so I need some feedback. A Sever Spike put into play makes this a whole different, and very serious game.
“Here are your three questions,” I say.
“You already asked me three questions.”
I hold the Spike up for him to see. “If I turn the button on and put this into your eye, you will feel pain like you’ve never imagined. It will take you minutes to die, and while you do, it’ll feel like you’re melting from the inside out. Then, when you can’t take the pain any more and you wonder how you’re still able to feel and think, your mind will explode into a million little pieces. Each piece will be an exact version of you, containing your thoughts and memories and consciousness. As the litt
le pieces fall to the ground you will die again, painfully. One slow, painful death for each of the million tiny fragments. After you are fully dead, that’s it. Every other person on the planet gets to come back after they die, that’s a truth most don’t know, but I’m giving this knowledge to you for free. Believe me, it’s absolutely true. You won’t get that luxury. Because you’ve been killed by this Spike, which you intended to use on that innocent little girl, you won’t come back. Ever again. Do you understand me, maggot?”
The little hunter looks at me with frightened eyes and nods his head frantically. I hold up three fingers, dropping one as I ask the first question. “Who hired you?”
“I don’t know! Honestly I don’t. I was contacted and paid through email!”
I drop the second finger. “Are there others after the girl?”
He answers very quickly, “I don’t think so. Not that I know of. Please, mister, I have no idea.”
I drop my third finger. “This last one is important, kid. What’s your real name? If you lie to me, I use the spike on you, and I already know your name, so please… lie to me.”
He tells me his name. It matches the ID. I know he’s telling the truth.
I turn off the scrambler. Then I count to 20. Then I squat right down close to his face.
“Please! I answered your questions. Let me go…”
I cut his throat. As he slowly bleeds out, I look him right in the eyes, and speak my message to whoever sent him and is likely viewing him right now. “You don’t come into my territory playing this game, threaten mine, and get to walk out alive if you lose. When I find out who you are, no one will be able to save you.”
Whoever gave this stupid kid a Sever Spike wasn’t very clever. Find them for me, please. And let me know who they are. This is a serious game.
Chapter 33
It is very difficult to build a fan base. The average player will have visions of grandeur while they are planning their next session, spending credits and imagining scenarios that give them the best chances of ‘wowing’ the masses. The problem is, once they enter the Game, they forget their entire strategy. Life inside the Game is dangerous, because for all your planning and experience outside, it doesn’t guarantee fan interest. Look at the example of Tina Frey, a good player with many technically sound plays during her career. She planned a very exciting play, certain it would gain her fame and fortune. She paid to be born to very wealthy parents in a developed country, which enabled her to have the nurturing, funds, and resources to become a successful adult. She did exactly that, going to all the best schools, meeting all the right people through her family, making connections that would help her get the best jobs, advancing steadily and perfectly through her play as designed. She went into law, had a nice family, then did well in politics. Her marriage was happy, her kids grew up to be successful. She was a respected member of the community until she retired and then peacefully passed away in her 80’s. So how large did Tina’s fan base grow as a result of this play? Of course, it didn’t get any attention or fan following. Living a great life doesn’t assure one of gaining fans, but neither does living a horrible life. There are countless examples of truly sad and depressing lives played out by students in the hopes of fans tuning in, also with no results. Fans are fickle; what draws them in today won’t necessarily work tomorrow. Yet some players seem to consistently draw the attention of first a few, and then the many. These are the superstars, and we love them, even if we don’t know exactly why.
