The Seventh Glitch

by Ronel van Tonder

  Kitty tried to co-ordinate her legs into anything more than a half-hearted thrashing but, in the end, Lucy dragged her kicking and screaming into Torque.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tap that Lag

  The transition between Polaris and Torque came as a violent melee of sight and sound that brought Kitty close to puking. She clung to Lucy as tightly as he clung to her, their avatars flickering and shimmering.

  Back on Earth, her suit was going berserk.

  Kitty wailed, the sound arriving distorted and alien in her ears. She was aware that Lucy was shouting, but whether he was directing the unintelligible words toward her or The Game, she couldn’t tell.

  It lasted less than a second, but it went on for an eternity.

  Gravity returned.

  It clawed at Kitty as if angered with her at escaping its grasp and reluctant to let her go now that it had reclaimed her.

  Her back thumped into something body-conforming, with solidity beneath the initial cushioning. Her stomach roiled as she reached out, trying to locate something, anything, to grasp and hopefully score a fix on the pseudo-reality of The Game.

  She found something circular. It had a bumpy surface. And it slid through her hand like a stiff, determined snake. Kitty closed her fingers around it. It jerked left, then right, as if fighting her.

  Sound returned then.

  “—where you’re going!” yelled Lucy. A hand brushed over hers, but it became insubstantial before its grip could tighten.

  “What?” Kitty’s voice was haggard. “Lucy? What’s going on?”

  “You’re going to get us fucking killed is what’s going on,” Lucy said. “Watch where you’re fucking going!”

  And then sight returned.

  Kitty screamed, dragging the steering wheel she clutched hard right, narrowly avoiding death by telephone pole. She had time to give Lucy a startled glance before her eyes were torn back to the road.

  It was night in Torque.

  Rain spattered against the curved windscreen of the Nissan 300ZX she and Lucy sat in. The car’s bucket seats held her in a gentle but firm hand as her feet moved under her: slamming down the clutch, releasing the petrol, tapping the brake. She drifted around a corner, the Nissan’s rear sliding out in a gentle, controlled arch. Car tyres squealed like a pig in a slaughterhouse, quietening when the car jerked into the straight and picked up speed.

  Neon colours streaked the wet road. On either side of the car, lego-block buildings of colourless concrete rose, and their signboards the only colour. Rubbish lay scattered along the gutters, some tumbling across the road as they hurtled down it.

  “Where the hell are we going?” Kitty asked. At least her voice had returned to normal.

  Lucy lifted his hands. “Fucked if I know, mate.”

  “Shit, Lucy, keep it PG for fuck's sake.” Kitty winced. “Oh, I see.”

  “Yeah, best get used to it. This rift ain’t got any fucking fairies and sugar blossoms in it.” Lucy’s gloved hands clutched his seat as leaned to the side, hunting the cabin of the Nissan. Kitty glanced at him. He drew out a slim tablet computer. It flickered to life, a map springing open with their vehicle a sharp arrow sluicing down the road.

  Kitty promptly returned her attention to the road, just in time to drift around another corner.

  “’Kay,” Lucy said, clearing his throat. “Got good news, got fucking bad news. Take your pick.”

  “Don't fuck around, just give me the low-down. I gotsta concentrate here, Luce.”

  “Good news: I found your William. Bad news: Looks like you're driving us there.”

  She spared him a frown. “Sounds more good than bad. You hit your head on something, back there? How many fingers?” She showed him her middle finger, staring at it with undisguised surprise.

  “Being a bitch must come second nature to you,” Lucy said. “I meant, you ain’t got half the experience I do. You’re apexing way early, so you’s coming out of the drift too soon. And don’t get me started on your complete lack of over-steering. Howsabout we swap, yeah?”

  “Howsabout you eat shit?” Kitty growled. “I got this. Where’s Willy at?"

  “No time to play hide the sausage now: we're looking for William, ain’t we?”

  “What?”

  “It’s The Game doing the talking, not me. Just fucking go with it." Lucy ran his hand over his hair. At least that was still the same. His features had changed: his pale face was pinched, eyes angry and sullen.

  Kitty looked down at herself.

  “Jesus H Christ,” she groaned. “You’re fucking kidding me with this shit, right?”

  She wore shiny leather pants. A tiny, pink top that covered little more than her nipples, and a mass of whirling, curve-enhancing tattoos.

  Lucy glanced over at her, and gave her a small, sneering smile.

  “You think that’s bad? Wait till you see what’s tattooed on your back.” The sneer disappeared. “Not now, you fucking idiot! You’ll kill us both!”

  Kitty straightened the car. “Okay… Okay.” She took a breath. “Where’s Will?”

  “Keep goin’. Tell you when to turn off.”

  “What happened back there?”

  Kitty steered around the burnt out remains of a sports car. The rain had long since doused the flames, but oily smoke still billowed out from beneath the rippled hood. Torque’s scenery didn’t seem to change much. The road widened from a single to a double lane, but remained deserted. There were no NPC's, no other players. It felt like they were the only two players in The Game. Kitty shuddered.

  “Fucked if I know,” Lucy said. “Prob’ly another glitch.”

  “Maybe, you know, ‘cos that portal thing wasn’t s’posed to be there, it was like broken or something.”

  She caught Lucy’s shrug from the corner of her eye. He was consulting the tablet again, shaking his head every few seconds.

  “It was bad though,” Kitty went on. “For me. I mean, felt like I was ripped in half. You?”

  “Yeah, same.” But Lucy’s voice was soft. Then he pushed the tablet off his lap and leaned his elbow against the armrest on his door. “Listen, K. There’s something you gotta know. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but it’s been a bit of a fucked up joyride, yeah?”

  “What’s on your mind, Luce?”

  Lucy shook his head, his hand tugging at the lapel of his leather jacket, toying with the metal studs on its edge. His leg began to bounce.

  “The glitches are getting worse an’ worse every time.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And they’re getting closer together, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The first was like…” Lucy folded open his fingers. “Like what, three hours before the second one?”

  “We don’t know that explosion in Polaris was a glitch,” Kitty said.

  “It was. I’m sure of it.” Lucy shook his head. “So, they’re getting worse and closer together. We gotta get a move on. I don’t want to be here when the next one hits.”

  “But we don’t even know if there’ll be another one. And if there is, who knows if it’ll hit this rift? It could happen somewhere else—”

  “We should split up.”

  Kitty drove for a few seconds, her mouth moving without words making their way out. Torque’s deserted streets streaked past in pink and green, jolly flickering signs for hookers and beer casting their garish light over everything.

  “You ain’t makin’ sense, Luce.” It wasn’t the best sentence, but it was a start. “I mean, we have to get to the Arena. Why the hell else we doing all of this? I have to get there, you’ve got to get there, so we might as well go together. It makes sense. Splitting up doesn’t.”

  “You think getting to the Arena’s gonna help?” Lucy asked in a stiff voice. “It easier for you to trust the mods than to trust me?”

  “The mods ain’t never lied to me, Luce.”

  There was a protracted silence, only partially filled with the Nissan’s gr
owling engine.

  “We get to the Arena—” Kitty lifted her fingers from the steering wheel, giving Lucy a quick frown “—they help us get out. Why’d they lie ‘bout it?”

  “You know…” Lucy draped his hand along the edge of the window. “I read ‘bout this study once.” His voice was a low murmur. “People who were told to do things, but like, by someone in charge. You know, some fucker in authority like the law or a priest or some’ing.”

  “Yeah? So?” The road narrowed into a single lane again. It began descending, curving and twining through posh apartment blocks and cute boutique cafes. Kitty’s eyes fixed to the gleaming surface of the road and her hands tightened as Lucy continued.

  “So they found that, even when they told these people to like, hurt other people, they would listen. ‘Cos, we have like, ingrained instincts to obey authority. How fucked up is that? So, you’re sayin’, they wouldn’t lie. We have to do it.” Lucy flicked his hand, and tapped his fingernails against the window glass. “You ain’t saying that ‘cos that’s what you think. It’s more like, what you've been programmed to think. You know, with advertising and stuff.”

  “What?” Kitty let out a harsh, sardonic laugh. “You sayin’ that ad I saw for Choco-Treats makes me want to listen to pigs?” She snorted. “Fuck that shit.”

  The next curve was a hair-pin bend. Kitty gave the steering wheel a quick jerk before hitting the corner, the shifting weight throwing out the back of the Nissan. The rear wheels threw up a spray of glistening pink water behind her.

  “You’s not half bad at this shit,” Lucy murmured.

  “Tole ya.” Kitty blew a bubble with her gum, popping it as she accelerated smoothly out of the corner. “So how you know they’re lying? Or this just some hoodoo voodoo feeling you got in your girly bits?”

  Lucy shook his head and ran his hand over his hair again. “No hoodoo voodoo. Swear it on my momma’s grave. Jus’ keep an open mind, kind of thing.”

  “Hey, you still owe me like tons of fucking explanations, by the by.” Kitty saw a flicker in her rear-view mirror and leaned closer, splitting her attention between the shining road and the suggestion of lights behind them.

  “What was all that shit you’s spouting back there in Polaris? You keep switching up your story.”

  It was definitely another vehicle: a sleek, chrome-finish Mercedes. And it was closing on her… fast. Real fast. From the corner of her eye, Kitty saw Lucy shift against the bucket seat, his hand sliding up to grab the chicken-bar above the door.

  “Corner,” he said.

  “Got it.”

  “Corner!” Lucy snapped.

  “I said I fucking got it!” Kitty’s foot graced the clutch as she threw the car into the corner and shoved down the accelerator. The Nissan retaliated by yowling like a furious griffin. Mid-apex, Kitty released the clutch. The rear wheels lost traction, squealing over the slick tar as the car whipped around the corner at such a sharp angle that Kitty could stare out of her window at the AMG speeding down the road toward them.

  She flung her hand out, giving the unseen occupants inside the finger, and came out of the drift with a final shriek, car tearing down the road.

  “Jesus Fucking Christ,” Lucy groaned. “Warn me when you feel like pulling shit like that again, then I can get out and fucking walk.”

  Kitty burst out laughing, slapping Lucy's thigh. Lucy moved his leg away, glaring at her above a straight mouth.

  “I did come from Helical,” Lucy said. “You remember Nick the fucking Dick, don’t ya? I’d just snuffed his little brother, then I glitched out and got thrown back into Chimera.”

  “So what about what you said in Polaris? That you’d been to all the rifts?”

  “I have. All the rifts, and some rifts that never even made it into The Game.”

  “You’re fucking with me,” Kitty snorted.

  Lucy shook his head, his eyes drifting to the window. “I know this game like the back of my fucking hand. And I despise it.”

  “You expect me to believe—” Kitty began.

  “I worked for General Gaming. I was one of their beta testers. When I found out how much fucking money they were making out of this thing, I couldn’t—” he broke off, pressing a fist to his mouth as he glared into the rain-soaked night. “It made me sick. And that’s not the worst of it. Their Mindware…” he shook his head slowly from side to side, his knuckles white. “It’s so much more sophisticated than they make it out to be. The things it can do? The things they can do with it?”

  “Wait, back up. You were a beta tester? So you got to play The Game before anyone else?”

  The Mercedes appeared in Kitty’s rear-view mirror again. “Jesus, these fuckers just won’t quit. Hold on, Luce. You might want to make sure you’re wearing your diapers for this one.”

  “Fuck you—” Lucy began.

  Kitty swung the car off the road. They impacted the barrier, the thin metal folding away with a screech, and sailed into the air.

  Lucy yelled. Kitty laughed. And the car slammed into the road below, shrieking as the tyres struggled to find purchase on the wet road. Kitty shoved her foot on the brakes, bringing the car to an ungraceful halt amid rubber smoke, and stuck her head out of the window, her left arm hugging the outside of the car door.

  She brushed away a clump of pink hair that fell in her eyes as she peered up into the midnight sky, watching the gap in the barrier where she'd barrelled through.

  Lights flashed. The Mercedes sprang into the air, nose dipping, dipping, crashing into the road. There was a squeal of tyres as the driver over-corrected the car. It went into a spin, its mirror-like spoiler ripping free and tumbling over the road in a spray of reflected light and rain.

  “Shit.” Kitty slammed her car into first gear and sped away, her eyes flickering to the rear-view mirror.

  “We’re getting close,” came Lucy's unsteady voice. “You might want to speed up.”

  “Speed up?” Kitty gave him a wide-eyed stare. “I’m doing a hundred and fucking forty. What the fuck do you want from me, mach 3?”

  Lucy stabbed at the windscreen. “Ya see that?”

  Kitty looked. “What?” She leaned closer. “No… you can’t be fucking serious.”

  “Serious as GMO, baby,” Lucy said. “You got this?”

  For a moment, Kitty could only stare. Then, in a quiet voice that held a strange form of conviction, she said, “Yeah. I got this.”

  . . .

  The Nissan entered William’s prison nose-first through the hexagonal plates of glass comprising its ceiling. The car slammed into the concrete floor of the grimy auto workshop, the glass tinkles of its passage barely discernible as its tyres screamed over the smooth concrete. Kitty gritted her teeth as she over-steered in an attempt to straighten the wheels and regain control.

  The Game decided a slow-motion scene was in order.

  On either side of them, surprised players reared back, punk-rock quiffs and leather jackets flaring as they dove away to avoid being squashed. The Nissan began a delicate drift, completely unintentional and despite Kitty’s best efforts to stop it. Some of the players who weren’t in any immediate danger of death dragged machine guns and shotguns from their various belts and jackets.

  Kitty watched, moving with the speed of molasses on a particularly cold day, as the gang that had captured Will opened fire on the car. Bullets pinged against the car’s shell, most ricocheting harmlessly.

  The windscreen shattered.

  Kitty lifted her hands, shards of glass cutting into her face before she’d managed to shield any part of it. With her hands off the steering wheel, the vehicle’s drift transformed into a spin.

  More of the garage became visible.

  They’d tied William to a stack of tyres. A girl standing ridiculously close to the impromptu funeral pyre had a molotov in her hand. Ever so slowly, the girl touched a lighter to the dirty rag dangling from the bottle.

  Kitty began to scream. Her stomach coiled in sudden, u
nbidden terror as the rag burst into abundant flame. Beside her, a motion caught her eye. Lucy had a gun in his hands. His arm straightened, moving at the speed of dial-up internet, as he took aim.

  There was a snap. The molotov exploded — but not on its intended victim. The gang member leapt away, starting a jolly jig as lurid yellow and orange tongues licked at her.

  William watched Kitty, blue eyes wide, pleading. He was shouting something at her, but the slow-motion physics destroyed the sound, twisting it into incoherence. The car was still moving, doing a slow dance over the featureless concrete. There was a thud as a gang member was mowed down by the car’s bonnet.

  Kitty’s scream finally exited her mouth. Her hands, no longer by her face, were flailing gently in the air, trying to catch hold of something. They found Lucy’s arm, her fingers digging into his flesh as the velocity of their spin subsided.

  Pinned as she was in her seat by the car’s g-force, Kitty could barely move. Her head lolled to the side and pressed into the bucket seat’s padding. Lucy’s face was contorted, surprise flowing over his features. Then his arm twisted.

  He shook her off. Grabbed hold again. Drew down her hand. Pressed it into the seat, covered it, held it there.

  Their eyes met for an instant that lasted several seconds, and then Lucy’s face slackened into obtuse shock. His mouth moved, forming the beginning of her name as he swung toward her. The car completed its revolution and began another.

  Along the side of the garage, open shelves held stacks of metal bars and rods, their angular points gleaming as only sharp metal could. The Nissan shuddered, its shell buckling under the pressure as its frame scraped against the bars, swivelling, the vehicle turning to accept the sharp protuberances.

  Metal wailed.

  Lucy’s hand closed over the steering wheel, his mouth twisting into a grimace. His elbow crashed into Kitty’s sternum as he dragged at the steering wheel, his lips battling to complete the rest of her name.

  She felt weightless.