Press Start to Play

by Wilson, Daniel H.

  The more I think about it, the more I wonder if you seeded that simulation for someone to find. Either way, I’m pretty sure shilling your precisely accurate predictions to the government gets old, though I’ve done what I can to alleviate that. Besides, where’s the fun if you’re always in first place?

  Esme Huybers-Smith

  * * *

  Nicole Feldringer holds a PhD in atmospheric sciences from the University of Washington and a master’s degree in geological sciences. In 2011, she attended the Viable Paradise Writer’s Workshop, and her first published short story appeared in the Sword & Laser Anthology. She currently lives in Los Angeles, where she is a research fellow at the California Institute of Technology. Find her on Twitter @nicofeld or at www.nicofeld.com.

 

  Chris Avellone

  Your bedroom. (In the bed)

  You are in your bed. You are cold and trembling under the thin sheet.

  The alarm is beeping loudly.

  The sound is like blades in your head.

  :

  You can’t reach the alarm from the bed.

  The thin sheet covering you is coarse, and scratches at your skin like sandpaper.

  The alarm is beeping loudly.

  :

  You crawl out of the bed. You feel nauseous. Your bare feet crunch against what feels like layers of papers, books, and cardboard.

  The room is freezing, even colder than the bed. You are shuddering.

  It is dark in the room.

  The alarm is beeping loudly.

  :

  I don’t understand the word “tiurn.”

  :

  It is too dark to see.

  :

  With a trembling hand, you fumble for the lamp switch. The lamp bursts to life, momentarily blinding you.

  You notice your hand is shaking.

  Your bedroom.

  You are in your bedroom. It has not been cleaned in some time. The bed you have just left is covered with a thin sheet flecked with red, and a small lamp rests on a nightstand near the bed. Through the narrow window you can see the dark street outside. It is snowing. Books, unopened mail, and trash are scattered on the floor, blanketing it completely.

  More papers and book pages are pinned to the walls, burying the wall underneath.

  The lamp on the nightstand is on (providing light).

  There is a locked door to the hall to the west, and a closed door to the bathroom is to the east.

  An old computer sits on a table against the wall. On the computer table are empty soda cans, a pizza box, a pill bottle, and even more drifts of papers and books. In front of the table is a chair.

  There is a phone on the computer table. A red light, indicating a message, is flashing.

  The alarm is beeping loudly. Even with the light on, you cannot see it.

  :

  The beeping is coming from beneath a pile of papers on the floor beneath the nightstand.

  :

  The pile is a mass of unopened letters, blank paper, and pages torn from books. Every blank space on every paper you see is covered with marks in black pen: rectangles joined by arrows, all at right angles to each other.

  An electrical cord snakes into the pile from the wall.

  :

  You must tell me what to search.

  :

  You cannot search the pile without disturbing the patterns drawn across the pages.

  :

  You jerk the cord from the wall, and the buried alarm clock falls silent.

  You notice your hand is shaking.

  :

  Your bedroom.

  You are in your bedroom. It has not been cleaned in some time. The bed you have just left is covered with a thin sheet flecked with red, and a small lamp rests on a nightstand near the bed. Through the narrow window you can see the dark street outside. It is snowing. Books, unopened mail, and trash are scattered on the floor, blanketing it completely.

  More papers and book pages are pinned to the walls, burying the wall underneath.

  The lamp on the nightstand is on (providing light).

  There is a locked door to the hall to the west, and a closed door to the bathroom is to the east.

  An old computer sits on a table against the wall. On the computer table are empty soda cans, a pizza box, a pill bottle, and even more drifts of papers and books. In front of the table is a chair.

  There is a phone on the computer table. A red light, indicating a message, is flashing.

  :

  Which door do you mean, the bathroom door or the hall door?

  :

  There was no verb in that sentence!

  :

  The thick wooden door to the hall bears the same symbols as the papers by the nightstand and the papers on the walls, except the symbols are scratched directly into its surface.

  The door is triple-locked, the top lock a large dead bolt. There is a mail slot (closed). A pile of unopened mail lies beneath the mail slot. The hall door does not look like it’s been opened in some time.

  :

  The computer is substandard, and so old it is surprising it still works. A thick CRT green-and-black monochrome monitor rests on top of the CPU/keyboard unit. The fans inside are silent.

  The computer screen is on. There is something written on the screen.

  You can’t make it out from where you are standing.

  :

  Your bedroom. (In the chair)

  You are now sitting in the chair.

  The computer table is covered in papers, pages torn from books, and unopened envelopes, all with marks similar to the pages layering the floor and walls.

  Every one of the papers on the desk has been carefully arranged so the marks make a continuous path across the pages and even onto the stained cardboard interior of the pizza box, the same arrow and box pattern repeating, always at right angles.

  The keyboard is in front of you, and the computer screen is at eye level.

  The computer screen is on.

  There is something written on the screen.

  :

  You must tell me how to do that with the computer.

  :

  Warren slumped upon the floor of the steam tunnel, exhausted, the cold eating its way into his jacket. His joints were stiff and his muscles painfully sore—he must have drifted off. He checked his watch and with a start, saw that he had been asleep for hours. His heart began to beat frantically.

  He couldn’t allow himself to fall asleep again. Not down here.

  :

  The tunnel he was in was dirty, cold, and dark. He had had to crouch in order to move through it, and even still, he banged his head occasionally when he rose too high.

  Heavy pipes ran along the walls and ceiling, vanishing into the darkness ahead.

  He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here.

  :

  Warren checked himself over to make sure nothing was missing. His hands were burdened with a penlight (providing light) and a heavy iron crowbar; in the folds of his jacket, he had a tiny pocketknife and a small box of crackers.

  :

  Warren rose from his sitting position into a low crouch and rubbed his hands together to ward off the chill. Pointing his light down the darkened tunnel, he tried to make out what was ahead. The penlight shed only a small beam, but it was surprisingly strong.

  Warren clutched his jacket tightly around himself as he shivered. It had never been this cold before. His teeth chattered, and he fought to control the noise.

  Sounds carried far—too far—down here.

  :

  Bent forward, Warren made his way down the darkness of the tunnel. As he moved, his hair brushed one of the pipes above him, and he instinctively ducked while keeping h
is eyes firmly fixed ahead, the beam like a compass.

  After a few seconds, he found himself in a section of tunnel identical to the one he had just left. Ahead of him, there was nothing but blackness.

  These tunnels seemed to go on forever.

  :

  Warren took another few steps forward, and suddenly stopped. He could hear a scraping noise…feet?…farther down the tunnel, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

  He could feel his heart beating faster.

  :

  Warren froze and strained to make out the noise. It sounded like it was coming closer.

  The drumming of his heart fell out of rhythm, skipping beats, and he took a breath as quietly as he dared.

  :

  Warren advanced, toward the noise. He tried to move as quietly as possible, but the crowbar scraped against the ground and echoed down the tunnels.

  The sound stopped.

  :

  Warren strained to pick up the noise again but heard nothing. He knew he hadn’t imagined it. Switching the penlight to his left hand, he kept it pointed down the tunnel and transferred the crowbar to his right. Although reassured by the cold iron, he did not fool himself—if it came down to it, he couldn’t use the crowbar to good effect in the cramped tunnel.

  Still, he might get in a good hit before someone…something…got past his guard.

  He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He had been lucky to get this far.

  :

  Warren advanced slowly and as quietly as he could manage down the tunnel. The penlight lit his way, and Warren noticed the darkness seemed thicker ahead. Maybe the tunnel opened up into a maintenance room—the pipes must lead somewhere.

  He froze as he heard the scraping sound again, then silence.

  :

  Saved.

  Warren shivered again and gripped the crowbar.

  He was scared. Terribly scared. For the hundredth time, he cursed his stupidity. He hadn’t wanted to come down here. But he had to. He had spent years mapping its chambers. He had to see what lay at the end.

  Someone had built this place for a reason. They must have…Everything about it felt wrong, and it was up to him to fix it.

  He clutched the crowbar tighter.

  :

  Whatever was ahead, he wasn’t going to rush out and meet it. The hairs on the back of Warren’s neck rose as he watched the blackness ahead of him. It seemed to roll nearer, thicker somehow, but the light revealed nothing.

  It was difficult to hear past the thudding of his heartbeat struggling in his chest. The beats were driven even more out of rhythm as adrenaline coursed through him.

  :

  As Warren strained to listen, the darkness ahead of him came alive. With a yelp of fear, Warren dropped the penlight as the thing seized him with its cold talons.

  He had no room to run as it engulfed him.

  :

  (With the crowbar)

  Warren flailed in its embrace, and swung the crowbar wildly. It missed the thing completely, and he screamed as he felt talons tear at his throat and it began to feed.

  His crowbar fell from his grasp, and warm blood flowed from Warren as the thing feasted.

  You are dead. You have scored 0 points.

  Do you wish to Restore, Restart, or Quit?

  :

  Are you sure you want to Quit? (Y = Affirmative)

  :<>

  Are you sure you want to Quit? (Y = Affirmative)

  :

  Do you wish to Restore, Restart, or Quit?

  :

  You are standing. Your legs are trembling. Your throat is dry.

  It is difficult to catch your breath. Your heart is beating rapidly.

  The room is colder than before.

  :

  You close your eyes and try to steady yourself.

  Your heartbeat slows.

  You are trembling. Your throat is dry.

  :

  Your bedroom.

  The lamp on the nightstand is on (providing light).

  There is a locked door to the hall to the west, and a closed door to the bathroom is to the east.

  An old computer sits on a table against the wall. On the computer table are empty soda cans, a pizza box, a pill bottle, and even more drifts of papers and books. In front of the table is a chair.

  There is a phone on the computer table. A red light, indicating a message, is flashing.

  You are trembling. Your throat is dry.

  :

  You have the soda can.

  You are trembling. Your throat is dry.

  :

  The can is empty.

  :

  Dropped.

  :

  I don’t understand the word “another.”

  :

  Which door do you mean, the bathroom door or the hall door?

  :

  With a trembling hand, you turn the knob. The bathroom door opens with a slow creak.

  The bathroom door is now open.

  :

  You can’t go there.

  :

  The bathroom.

  You are in a tiny bathroom.

  There is a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. Beside the sink is a small white plastic trash can.

  There is a faint sickly smell to the room.

  :

  You can’t do that.

  :

  The sink is a small porcelain sink, with a faucet and two handles marked “Hot” and “Cold.”

  There is dried vomit and blood in the sink.

  :

  Which handle do you mean, the Hot handle or the Cold handle?

  :

  Your hand trembles on the handle as you turn it. Cold water flows from the faucet. The water turns a brownish red as it washes away the vomit and blood.

  :

  You’ll need a container.

  :

  Your bedroom.

  The lamp on the nightstand is on (providing light).

  There is a locked door to the hall to the west, and a closed door to the bathroom is to the east.

  An old computer sits on a table against the wall. On the computer table are empty soda cans, a pizza box, a pill bottle, and even more drifts of papers and books. In front of the table is a chair.

  There is a phone on the computer table. A red light, indicating a message, is flashing.

  An empty soda can lies on the floor.

  You are trembling. Your throat is dry.

  :

  Taken.

  Your hand is trembling.

  :

  Your hand is trembling.

  :

  You are tired, cold, and your body is trembling. Your throat is dry. You are naked.

  You are carrying:

  An empty soda can.

  :

  The bathroom.

  Cold water is running from the faucet.

  :

  Your bedroom.

  The lamp on the nightstand is on (providing light).

  There is a locked door to the hall to the west, and an open door to the bathroom is to the east.

  An old computer sits on a table against the wall. On the computer table are empty soda cans, a pizza box, a pill bottle, and even more drifts of papers and books. In front of the table is a chair.

  There is a phone on the computer table. A red light, indicating a message, is flashing.

  You are trembling. Your throat is dry.

  :

  You don’t see a pill here.

  :

  You have the pill bottle. It rattles as you pick it up. It continues to rattle as you hold it.

  Your hands are trembling.

  :e bottle>

  The pill bottle is a prescription bottle of sickly brown plastic. It is sealed with a twist-off white cap with a warning label stuck to the top. You do not recognize the name of the medication on the label. The name on the prescription is not yours.

  The bottle rattles in your trembling fingers.

  :

  The bathroom.

  Cold water is running from the faucet.

  :

  The soda can is now filled with water.

  :

  The pill bottle is closed.

  :

  You twist the cap off. Inside the bottle are twenty-three red pills.

  :

  You have the pill.

  Your hands are trembling.

  :

  The pill has a bitter taste. You try to choke it down, but it burns your tongue and lodges in your throat.

  :

  I don’t understand the word “dtrink.”

  :

  The soda can is now empty. The refreshingly cold water enables you to wash down the pill.

  :

  Time passes…

  :

  Time passes…

  You feel a rush of warmth.

  :

  You are alert, warm, and you are no longer trembling. You are naked.

  You are carrying:

  An empty soda can.

  A pill bottle. The pill bottle is open. In the pill bottle are:

  Twenty-two red pills.

  :

  In the mirror, you see Warren.

  :

  I don’t understand the word “Warren.”

  :

  I don’t understand the word “Warren.”

  :

  You are alert, warm, and you are no longer trembling. You are naked.