“There’s a twenty-minute line,” Soup said. “I knew we should’ve skipped breakfast.”
Ryder scanned the crowd. Everyone was geared up and hidden beneath coats and caps. He couldn’t see if Cherry was down there.
After waiting ten minutes, they left the safe room. The Arctic howled in his ears. Ryder held the back of Arf’s coat. If this was the North Pole, he didn’t want to go. The wind abruptly died.
“Welcome!” Jane shouted. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ryder.”
“Oh, yeah, hi,” Soup said. “We’re invisible.”
She and the other nicies wore white coats with furry trim. Their mittens were thick leather. Soup and Arf joined the others against the dome. The floor shuddered. Snow spattered the inside of the dome.
Cherry was by herself. “Hey,” she said.
Jane didn’t seem suspicious he was standing next to her. He wanted to ask her if she’d heard anything, tell her the phone was hidden beneath his pillow, ask if they should hike into the woods after lunch. But he kept quiet. There was nothing she could say that would make him less nervous.
Jane went to a rack where Paul and Shelly were stripping off black rubber suits dusted in snow. They were still fully dressed beneath, coats and boots and hats and all. Jane grabbed a loose suit hanging on a hook.
“An auto-feedback suit,” she said, “with a neural stimulator that will track you in real time. The dome is an illusion of space. The suit simply enhances your experience.”
Ryder took it from her. It was thick and heavy. The hood flopped in his hand. He felt the dime-size lumps that would be positioned over his temples when he pulled the hood on.
“What’s in here?”
“It’s not mind-reading, Ryder. Trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“It’s an experience enhancer, that’s all. This is a great way to acclimate to the weather extremes that we’ll all be facing in a few weeks. You felt how cold it was on the way here, right?”
Another thundering collision occurred, and everyone reacted with surprised cheers. They hammered the dome with closed fists. The dome’s opacity turned transparent. He could see what was inside, but it wasn’t anything special. Snow was stuck to the inside, but the floor was empty. Several suit-clad players exited in vacuum-sealed diving suits.
“Not happening. That’ll strip my rank.” Evan pulled a suit from Soup’s grip. “I’m not starting over on another squad.”
“You don’t lose rank,” Soup said. “Ryder’s our roommate, he has to be on our squad, and you don’t. Besides, you suck.”
“You suck.”
Soup grabbed the suit and they played tug-of-war until Arf interrupted. Several others took sides, including Jane.
“I’ll go with her,” Ryder announced. “Evan can stay on with Soup. I’ll team up with her.”
He was pointing at Cherry, who looked mortified. The drones were all aimed at her.
Soup screwed up an expression. “Oh, I get it.”
“You know what, I don’t want to be on the squad anymore,” Evan said. “Find someone else.”
“Good!” Soup blasted. “Ryder, come on.”
“What about Cherry?”
“She hates this. Right, Cherry? You hate this. Ryder’s in; Evan’s out.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Jane said. “Everyone has to play at least once, and the newbies can work together. We’ll reset the game to Beat the King and do a three-way with teams of two. How’s that for compromise?”
“Whatever.” Evan yanked the suit away.
“He’s still fighting,” Soup said.
Ryder just wanted to get this over with, but this was a chance to break the public ice with Cherry. If they were forced to be teammates, they could talk without anyone getting suspicious. The others were suiting up. Ryder stuck his hand out.
“I’m Ryder.”
She shook her head. “What are you doing?”
“Introducing myself.”
“Suit up, loverboy.” Someone threw a suit over his head.
Cherry took one off the rack, stepping into it like the others. As cumbersome as they looked, she easily pulled it on. She left the hood dangling between her shoulders.
Ryder pulled his suit on while arguments continued. Despite being fully clothed, his skin tingled. First his legs felt itchy then his hands and arms. The suit was transmitting through his clothes. He pulled it over his shoulders, and the sensation passed through his chest.
“Now I have to destroy you.” Soup pushed a pair of ski goggles at Ryder. “See what you make me do.”
The glass was reflective and would cover half of his face. The other two teams entered the dome like lumpy aliens. Cherry’s hood still hung loosely over her shoulders. She flipped out the inside to show him the imbedded mesh.
The lumps were just inside the seam. It was smaller than before. When she pulled the hood on, they would be snug against her temples. The entire suit was a neural-mesh interface. If they didn’t know what Cherry and Ryder were doing in the early morning hours, they would after this.
That’s why it’s required.
There hadn’t been an introspection since the game room opened. They were sucking out thoughts every time someone put on a suit. This wasn’t an option.
“Players!” Jane shouted. “Inside the dome.”
“I’m not feeling good,” he said.
“What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “I think I’m going to puke.”
“You’re just nervous. The suit will tell you if there’s something wrong. Just play it once, just for a minute. You don’t have to stay in there long.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to.”
“You have to.” Her smile wasn’t there. She reached for his hood. Cherry tugged him closer.
“Let me talk to him.”
The crowd was getting antsy, jeering them to get going. If they didn’t want to go, someone else would.
“Don’t give them any thoughts,” Cherry whispered. “Empty your mind and focus on your breath. You can do this.”
It was just like meditating, keeping his attention on the breath without distraction. He’d been meditating a whole week. Some people meditate all their lives and can’t empty their mind. This should be no problem.
When the hood went up, the tingling turned into pinpricks. It squeezed him like a giant hand getting the last bit of toothpaste. For a moment, he lost feeling. The barrier between him and the world dissolved. His temples began to throb.
Breathe, just breathe. One, two, three...
“Players in!” Jane called.
The spectators thumped the dome and chanted. The other teams were paired up and waiting. The floor was silver and empty, like fresh ice on a hockey rink.
“Goggles,” Jane reminded him.
When he snapped them over his face, everything changed. The floor transformed into a snowy tundra; the walls vanished in a dark, endless horizon. The sun was cresting. He plunged into subzero temperatures, the frozen air stealing his breath.
The entrance closed behind him.
Cherry’s suit had transformed into Arctic camouflage. Her goggles had disappeared. She pointed. “Over there.”
A wall of ice was behind them. The other teams ducked behind their own icy forts, the size of their walls rapidly expanding. A giant silver orb was nestled in the middle of the dome. Symbols were etched onto the surface. Numbers floated above it, counting down from sixty.
I’ve seen that orb, he thought.
It looked like a Christmas ornament the size of a bowling ball. It was the heart of something, an electromagnetic field generator. Did I dream that?
“Just breathe,” she said. “We can do this.”
She held his forearm. He wanted to hold her hand. There was a snowball cannon behind the wall and a catapult lying on its side. Ryder leaned against the wall, felt the ice on his back and the breath inside his nostrils. The countdown began beeping.
The wind picked up.
It was followed by howling that rumbled the ice. This wasn’t the sound of an animal. It was monstrous. Otherworldly. If this was a replication of the North Pole, then the Arctic Ocean was below them. Thoughts of plunging into icy waters broke his concentration.
One, two, three, four—
A section crumbled from the top of their fort. A giant snowball crashed through it. He peeked through the opening. The silvery orb was gone.
An enormous snowman raged in its place.
It swung giant arms at the other forts, batting away a continuous stream of snowballs. The battle tore holes in its swirling body. It stomped legs the size of tree trunks and swung wrecking-ball fists.
Flury, Ryder thought.
The head spun like a turret. The eyes bore down on Ryder like it heard its name. A snow flurry engulfed Ryder. In seconds he was lost in a whiteout. He opened his mouth to call out for Cherry, but his breath was snatched away. Then the ice flipped. The sky was below him. He flailed to grab something, to stop from falling into icy water.
Frigid air across my face. Tears don’t stream. A second pair of transparent eyelids protect my eyes. I reach out and paw the clouds, soaring through them, condensation on my lips. I emerge over a valley and descend toward lights. I’m not falling.
I’m flying.
I drift down slowly, my belly deflating like a balloon. Straps around my neck and across my back. There’s weight behind me. I extend strong legs covered in dark fur and aim for a snow-covered roof. Hooves gently thud behind me, and sleigh rails slide through snow. We come to a stop, and I see the yellow truck in the driveway.
I hear an infant cry.
“Ryder!”
A funny face was looking at him. A pair of goggles hung from Cherry’s neck. Other faces joined her, huddling over him and blocking out the milky dome. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Back up!” The crowd parted. “Don’t move him.”
Jane knelt next to him. There were no forts, no snowballs. No giant snowman with a turret head.
“Clear out,” John announced.
They backed up but didn’t leave. Someone brought him water. They sat him up and helped him drink it. He could feel the floor again but was still partially numb. They stripped off the hood and unzipped the suit. The cold air felt good. He tried to stand.
What just happened? It was a dream again, like the ones he sometimes had about the North Pole. Only this time it wasn’t about an elven or a reindeer. I was the reindeer. There was something about the yellow truck. It was the middle of the night and there was a baby in it. A baby who was all alone.
They would see that, he was sure. The suit would suck those thoughts from his head.
“Does that mean the game’s over?” Soup asked.
Cherry guided Ryder out of the dome. Even the wind in the aisle had died. They left the game room. BG got what he wanted, he guessed. It was a dream, that was all.
But how did I know the snowman’s name?
14
The sun hid behind the mountains.
The drones were returning from the mountain. A wave of freshly charged green eyes was heading out. No one from Billy Big Game’s childhood would have guessed he would own mountains. He didn’t dwell on the past, never ruminated on his beginnings. He had no childhood friends. No family.
You have me, my boy, he thought.
There was a time when the world was flat and the moon was made of cheese; a time when disease was cured by leeches. Silliness, really. Everyone knew better now. But there were still myths in the world. Billy Big Game would dispel the greatest of all them hiding in plain sight. It was his duty.
What I was born to do.
The office door opened. His two favorite prodigies were at their chairs along with Mindy. These were the people he trusted. They didn’t believe in his mission, not completely, but they trusted him. That was all he asked. They didn’t know the things he knew.
Not yet.
“Prepare for a hike,” he said. “Tell everyone it’s practice; we’ll spend the night on the mountain. Have everyone on the nicy wing packed and ready first thing in the morning.”
“Christmas is in a week.” Mindy chuckled. “If you’re planning for the North Pole, is this a good idea?”
He looked over his shoulder. “How’s my boy holding up?”
“He’s a little shook. He needs some rest. I think you’re pushing a little here, Billy.”
Shook. That was precisely what Billy Big Game had expected when he’d required everyone to participate in the game room. He needed to unlock Ryder’s memories. The more he remembered, the more irresistible he would become.
The world needs to know.
Billy had witnessed the dream he had in the dome. It was unlike any dream they’d pulled from the children. So vivid and real. And in first person, as if he were the reindeer. But it wasn’t the quality that surprised him the most. It was the content.
He saw the truck.
It was more than a dream. This was a memory. But how did he have this memory? It was impossible.
Billy Big Game was a biology engineer. There was still so much he didn’t know, like how such a thing could gain flight? Even with the theory of a helium bladder, given its mass, it should still be impossible. And how did a thing that size remain so elusive?
The answers are on the mountain.
“The naughties will remain here. They’ll begin final introspection after we leave. I want all of them converted in three days’ time. We’ll all be nice for the Pole.”
“Can we talk about this?” Mindy asked.
Billy Big Game frowned. Hear her out, my boy. We still need her. “Continue.”
“The Pole’s a dangerous place, Billy. I know you know this, but it’s hardly a trek for a group of children. Please reconsider. Take John and Jane, if you must. The drones can go without putting the rest of them in danger. Whatever you hope to discover, if anything happens, you’ll be labelled as reckless. You’ll undo everything.”
Hope to discover? Hope? He sighed. She loved his outrageous claims. Ratings were her first love. John and Jane, though, were different. They trusted a bit more. Of course they did. He wanted them to believe. So they did.
Because good girls and boys do what I tell them.
Billy Big Game squatted. Figgy was curled up in the corner. He rubbed her ears. “Jane? John?” he said. “Your thoughts?”
“They’ll be ready for the Pole,” John said. “I have no doubts.”
Jane smiled. “Absolutely.”
“You’re rushing this,” Mindy interjected. “Go to the mountain and get what you’re looking for. The Pole will still be there next year. We can use the time to promote.”
He bristled. There was still so much she didn’t understand. How could she? If the mountain trek was successful, he would need to get to the North Pole as soon as possible. Alarms would be sounded. They would know what he was planning.
There’s no time to waste. We’ve waited long enough.
“We launch for the Arctic Circle in a week’s time. And by tomorrow, we capture new game from my mountain.”
“Don’t hurt it,” Mindy said. “You know that’ll be bad—”
“For ratings. Don’t worry.”
He refused to remove his trophies from the office and dining hall. The producers had tested their audience and found it to be distasteful. But that was in the past, where he didn’t look anymore. And he didn’t hunt anymore.
At least not like that.
Billy Big Game wouldn’t kill what was on his mountain. Oh no, not in a million. He’d been building a trap for it for almost fifteen years now. It was ready to snap. Something would get hurt, but it wouldn’t make the stream.
Not until he was ready.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Ryder’s a little stressed,” Jane said. “The thoughts we pulled from the game room are strange. The perspective is just... it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Have you looked at them?”
He flinched. They weren’t supposed to see Ryder’s thoughts. His anger flared then was quickly extinguished with a thought. Don’t make a scene. We’re very close now. They’ll know the truth soon enough.
“We’ll understand his thoughts soon. No need to worry.”
“He’s also gotten close to Cherry,” Jane said. “They don’t talk much, but there are subtle interactions that suggest their keeping things off the stream. She’s smart that way. I think we should keep a closer watch on them. Maybe bring her on the hike.”
“I don’t want him at ease, Jane. The greater the stress, the sweeter the bait. You understand that, don’t you?”
Of course she understood. He couldn’t fault her for emotional urges. It would take time for them to fully control their impulses with a thought like Billy Big Game could. He was patient exactly because he did have control.
He excused them and looked out the window.
The drones were in position. Everything was ready. He called Jane and John back. When Mindy closed the door, he gave them their last instructions. He told them why they were really going to the mountain.
It wasn’t to prepare for the North Pole.
15
Yellow truck.
Ryder woke sore and achy and threw the covers over his head. It sounded like a rugby match in the hall. He hadn’t heard Arf and Soup wake up. He’d spent the night swirling in dream fragments of what had happened in the game room.
What’s in the yellow truck?
Someone tapped on the door and slowly opened it. Chaos bled into the room. Cherry looked around and wrinkled her nose. They could use a candle. Her drone followed her inside. She pulled a chair from his desk and sighed. He’d slept past their early morning meetup. Too bad. He wanted to talk now more than ever.
“Bad things are going to happen,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t be here.”
She folded her hands in her lap like she was meditating. “You’re not special, Ryder. We all feel like that, like something’s wrong. We’re misfits. But those are just thoughts, that’s all.”
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