Zyra and the Designer regarded each other. The silence stretched as each of them considered the significance of this first meeting.
‘Robert Vandenburg the Fifth.’ The man did not move his lips. There was a vibration in his throat and his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed up and down spasmodically, but the voice came from a speaker embedded into the surrounds of the chair.
‘You is the … I mean … um … you’re …’ Zyra couldn’t get the words to form.
‘Yes,’ said Robert. ‘I am your creator.’ He swallowed hard. ‘And you are … the meeting of two worlds. The digital made flesh and blood. My Game become reality. My … virtual child.’
Zyra had a momentary urge to fall to her knees, but stopped herself. ‘You are … ah … you’re so …’ And still her thoughts couldn’t transfer themselves to words.
‘Old? Frail? Pathetic?’ said Robert, his voice betraying no emotion. ‘Yes. I am. Do have a seat.’
He glided back and Robbie indicated the leather wingback chair. Zyra stared at it but did not move.
‘You can sit down,’ whispered Robbie.
Zyra plonked herself down into the leather. It creaked as if it had never been worn in.
‘Please, have some water and food,’ said Robert. ‘You must be thirsty and hungry.’
Zyra tentatively picked up the glass of water and sniffed it.
‘It is perfectly safe,’ assured Robert.
Zyra took a little sip, swirled it around in her mouth, and then drained the glass. She hadn’t realised just how thirsty she was. She was now also aware of how hungry she was. She picked up the food bar and tore open the wrapper. It was an unappealing grey bar. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose.
‘It is a high protein bar,’ said Robbie. ‘It is exactly what your clone body requires.’
Zyra nibbled the end of it. The taste was plain, almost non-existent, and the texture was gluggy and chewy. Not at all pleasant. She ate it anyway.
‘I realise that this is probably rather overwhelming for you,’ said Robbie. She nodded while she chewed.
‘Well,’ said Robert, gliding up to Zyra. ‘You must have questions.’
Zyra stared at him and the technology that surrounded him. He seemed more machine than man. She noticed that his chair did not touch the ground. It hovered a few centimetres in the air.
She finished chewing and swallowed the last of the protein bar.
‘Questions.’ Zyra nodded slowly, trying to collect her thoughts. ‘Yes, I have questions.’ Then she fell silent.
‘Allow me to get you started,’ said Robert. ‘Question: Where is Tark? Answer: I do not know. Question: Can I help you get him back? Answer: No. Question: Are you a prisoner here? Answer: Officially, no. Technically, yes. Question: Are you in any danger? Answer: Not from me or Robbie. Question: What is this place? Answer: The Design Institute, although I used to refer to it as Designers Paradise. It is an independent research establishment and its purpose is the continued operation and development of the Game. Question: Who is in charge here? Answer: Officially, Designer Prime. In reality, Designer Alpha. Question: Who are the Administrators? Answer: Bureaucratic, but otherwise insignificant, pains in the neck. Question: How –’
‘Stop!’ cried Zyra, jumping to her feet and holding her hands up to her head. ‘Enough already.’
Zyra thought she noticed a hint of a smile cross Designer Prime’s wrinkled face, but it didn’t linger.
‘The Game,’ said Zyra. ‘Start with that. Tell me about the Game. What is it?’
‘A good question,’ answered Robert. ‘I approve. Please sit down and I will do my utmost to give you an adequate answer.’
Zyra stared at him warily and sat down, the leather again creaking beneath her.
‘The Game, as it now stands, is many things to many people.’
Zyra sighed theatrically and rolled her eyes.
‘Patience is a virtue,’ stated Robert. ‘But its absence is not surprising given your virtual environment of constant adventure and danger.’
Zyra sniffed.
‘When I first developed the Game it was simply an exercise in creation.’ Robert glanced towards the painting on the wall. ‘I have an interest. In fact, I have studied creation myths from across the globe.’ He paused. ‘There seemed, to me, to be an element of amusement in most of them. As if life, death, everything was for the entertainment of the specific deity or deities.
‘It struck me that perhaps that’s all that life was … a game. A game for the amusement of its creator. I liked the concept. I decided I wanted to be more than an amusement. I wanted to create. I wanted to be amused.’ He smiled. ‘I like games.’
‘What?’ Zyra looked a little bemused.
‘I was not content to be a mere player in the game of life. I am a creator… a Designer … a …’
‘A god,’ finished Zyra. ‘You think you’re some sort of god.’
‘To the inhabitants of the Game, I am.’
‘You sound crazy,’ said Zyra defiantly. She put more force into her words than she felt. Was she the crazy one, speaking like this to a Designer? But she felt an urge to exert her defiance. ‘Crazy!’
‘Explanations are going to take a very long time if you keep interrupting,’ said Robert.
Zyra glared at him.
‘Perhaps there is an easier way for this history lesson.’ Robert looked at Robbie.
The robot fetched a headset from the wall of tech. He went to put it onto Zyra but she held up an arm defensively.
‘It will not harm you,’ explained Robbie. ‘It is merely an information transfer device. Rather than Designer Prime telling you of events, with this you will be able to see them.’
Zyra lowered her hand cautiously, allowing Robbie to place the device onto her head. Little padded electrodes pressed gently onto her temples. They felt warm.
‘Okay,’ said Robert. ‘Here we go.’
Zyra was no longer seated in Designer Prime’s room. She was standing in large open area with rows of desks. Each of the desks had a computer workstation and each workstation had a person manipulating holographic displays with a virtual reality data-glove.
‘The birth of the Game.’ Robert’s voice was all around her. ‘Dozens of programmers creating code to my specifications.’
‘Where am I?’ asked Zyra, looking around, trying to find Robert. ‘Am I back in the Game?’
‘No, no,’ said Robert. ‘Getting into the Game isn’t that easy. This is just a standard computer simulation based on my memories stored in a private database. You are hooked into it via the headset you’re wearing.’
‘Oh.’
‘You will, no doubt, notice that it does not feel as real as the Game,’ said Robert, appearing before her in his chair. Zyra did a double take. ‘No smell, for starters,’ he continued. ‘And you can only observe. You can’t touch anything.’
Zyra reached out to the desk in front of her. Her hand passed through it with a blur of pixels. She tried again. It was like disturbing an image reflected in water.
‘And if you look closely, many of the details are indistinct. The failings of memory. The computer cannot simulate what I cannot remember.’
Zyra looked at the windows, but couldn’t make out what was outside. It was just an indistinct mesh of blues and greens. She looked back to the desks and the people working at the computers.
‘Their faces,’ said Zyra with a sharp intake of breath. ‘I can’t make out their features. They all look the same.’
‘I don’t remember all the people who worked for me,’ Robert explained. ‘People were not important to me.’
Zyra walked between the rows of desks, looking from one indistinct face to the next. She stopped suddenly.
‘That’s me,’ she said in a startled voice. ‘I mean it’s Tina. Tina Burrows. The avatar that I used in the Suburbia environment.’
‘Ah yes,’ said Robert, gliding through the people and desks. ‘Designer Burrows. I remember her very well.’
‘Of course, she wasn’t a Designer back then. Merely a rather promising PhD student with a talent for programming.’ Robert moved forward, passing through the memory of Tina Burrows and along the row of programmers. The images pixelated and scattered as he went, reforming behind him. ‘Follow me.’
Zyra followed, making a point of walking between the rows of programmers. Robert came to a stop in front of another desk. A familiar young man sat at this workstation.
‘John Hayes,’ breathed Zyra. ‘Tark’s Suburbia avatar.’
‘He too would go on to become a Designer.’
‘Why do our avatars look like them?’ asked Zyra.
‘Leftover memories.’ Robert glided through John Hayes.
‘What do you mean?’ Zyra chased after him.
Robert finally came to the end of the row of programmers. He turned to face Zyra.
‘You and Tark are far more linked to Designers Burrows and Hayes than you know.’ He smiled. ‘They were the first players … well, after me. They played as you and Tark. And they programmed the Suburbia environment.’
‘They played as us?’ Zyra felt her knees wobble.
‘Yes,’ said Robert. ‘In the beginning, none of the characters had any consciousness, or even personality. They were merely avatars for real people to use. Of course, that changed over time. We introduced more sophisticated programming. Each character was given traits and purpose and the ability to develop a distinct personality.’
A series of images floated around Zyra. Tark and her on various adventures – fighting dragons, stealing money and striving to reach Designers Paradise. The two of them choosing their Suburbia avatars. Tina and John in Suburbia.
‘Designers Burrows and Hayes introduced the Suburbia environment.’ Robert’s voice washed over the images like a documentary narration. ‘It was the first additional environment. Hundreds more have since been added.’
The images continued. Vistas of many varied landscapes and cityscapes and bizarre places that defied description. And then Tina and John at workstations, programming. Tina and John in lab coats, watching others do programming. Tina and John in meetings with people in suits. Tina and John talking with another man in a lab coat.
Zyra looked closely at the man. He was tall, with brown curly hair and handsome features. There was a hint of grey at his temples, and the beginning of wrinkles at the corners of his blue eyes. He looked sad.
‘That’s you,’ whispered Zyra.
‘Yes,’ Robert confirmed. ‘That’s me. Forty-two years ago. I was fifty, although I think I looked pretty good for my age. Tina and John were Designers by this stage. Had been for a while. Designers Burrows and Hayes. My best students. My closest collaborators. My greatest rivals.’
The memories of Tina and Robert began to argue.
‘That was the day that everything changed,’ said Robert. ‘That was the day my focus shifted from creation to … I don’t know … self-delusion.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Zyra.
‘Listen to them,’ said Robert.
Zyra walked closer to the image from the past.
‘You can’t just abandon the project.’ Designer Burrows waved her arms about in frustration. ‘You’ve put too much into this.’
‘As have we,’ added Designer Hayes.
‘I’m not abandoning it,’ said Robert. ‘I’m simply changing the focus. A virtual playground for disabled people.’
‘There are so many other potential uses,’ said Designer Hayes.
‘Recent revelations have focused my attention on to this one,’ said Robert.
‘We can’t just stop all our other lines of research.’ Designer Burrows was red in the face.
‘I’m no longer interested in those,’ said Robert. He continued quickly as Designers Burrows and Hayes opened their mouth to protest. ‘You can proceed with them, if you wish. Do what you like. I will not stop you.’
Designers Burrows and Hayes exchanged meaningful glances.
‘I figured that you would be happier without my interference anyway,’ added Robert.
Zyra watched everything blur, pixelate and reform.
It was the same three people having a similar conversation. As with the previous scene, their location was unclear. The main difference was that Robert was in a wheelchair – not the sophisticated technology-laden one he currently occupied, but something a little more ordinary.
‘You’re stagnant,’ said Designer Hayes.
‘I’m happy,’ countered Robert.
‘Are you?’ asked Designer Burrows. ‘Really? You’re happy enough in the Game, playing as a child. But that’s all you’re doing – playing. You’re not living. What you should be aiming for is a complete transference of your consciousness from the physical environment to the virtual.’
‘We can do it,’ said Designer Hayes. ‘If you stop playing and start working, we could achieve this. Imagine – leaving your crippled, physical self behind completely.’
‘Freedom from the physical world,’ added Designer Burrows.
‘What do I do with this freedom once I have it?’ asked Robert.
Zyra’s eyes widened. ‘That’s what Bobby said. In the Game.’ She looked at the present Robert as his past self blurred and pixelated. ‘You’re Bobby? The Ultimate Gamer? How?’
Robert exhaled loudly. ‘Just watch.’
The pixels reformed into another similar scene. Robert’s wheelchair was now closer to its current form, although not as much of his body was encased in the technology. Designers Hayes and Burrows now wore pale blue jumpsuits under their white lab coats and they looked older. Designer Burrows in particular. Her face had hardened and lined.
‘I don’t understand you,’ said Designer Burrows. ‘We now have the technology to allow you to live in a virtual environment, full-time.’
‘No thanks to you,’ Designer Hayes uttered under his breath, glaring at Robert.
Designer Burrows shot him a stern look and he bit his lip. ‘Yet you continue to play games and cling to your existence in this world.’
‘Look at you,’ Designer Hayes cut in. ‘You can’t even move without assistance. It won’t be long before you’re a complete vegetable.’
‘And what would happen to my body out here, if I were to follow your advice?’ asked Robert.
‘What do you mean?’ There was suspicion in Designer Burrows’ voice.
‘I’m not as stupid as you seem to think I am,’ he answered. ‘I know what’s going on. I know what you’re up to. I don’t participate in your research, but I do watch. I know how you keep all those environments from collapsing. I know what happens to all those poor people.’
Designers Burrows and Hayes exchanged worried looks.
‘Don’t be so concerned. I’m not going to try to stop you. In return, you need to leave me the hell alone. I don’t care what you do so long as you don’t interfere with me.’
‘Very well,’ said Designer Hayes, cautiously.
‘Oh, and I believe your cloning experiments have been a success.’ There was a glint of victory in Robert’s eyes. ‘Well, I need a clone to assist me in this world.’
Everything blurred and pixelated again – and Zyra was back in the present, Robbie gently removing her headset.
Zyra rubbed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts. ‘Let me get this straight. Your name’s Robert. You’re also Bobby in the Game. And you’ve got a robot clone named Robbie.’
‘That is correct,’ replied Robert.
‘Arrogant,’ Zyra muttered.
‘Perhaps,’ said Robert. ‘They are both aspects of me. Bobby is me as a young boy. He is my escape from the physical world. As for Robbie – he is my eyes and ears, my leg and hands in this world. He is … special.’
‘Bobby is dead,’ said Zyra. ‘I saw him die.’
&n
bsp; ‘Oh Zyra.’ Robert sighed. ‘Nothing in the Game is necessarily what it appears to be. Yes, Bobby died and I exited the Game. When I go back, I’ll be Bobby again. I’m always Bobby.’ Robert’s eyes shifted from Zyra and he stared off into nothingness. ‘I programmed my twelve-year-old self into the Game right at the beginning. I scanned my memories and reconstructed him. Youth is such a precious thing. The mind works so differently before the pressures of life and responsibility slowly squeeze the joy and wonder and playfulness from it. The young mind is more adept at making a link to the virtual world. More accepting. More imaginative. A situation that the other Designers have exploited with staggering success and recklessness.’
Zyra snapped her fingers at Robert to get his attention. ‘What’s all that supposed to mean?’
Robbie crossed between the two of them and to a console at the wall of technology.
‘The Administrators have finished questioning the captured rebel,’ he announced. ‘They have failed to get any information other than her name – Mel.’
‘Perhaps you and Zyra should visit Mel,’ suggested Robert.
‘What’s the point?’ asked Zyra.
‘You might get some information about Tark.’
9: People Who Don’t Matter
‘Okays, let me gets this straight.’ Tark was sitting on the end of the table, still dressed in nothing but the ill-fitting lab coat, trying to come to grips with everything that Josie had just told him. ‘Zyra and me gots outta tha Game. But we is clones. She’s a prisoner of the Designers. But ya rescued me.’
‘That pretty much sums it up,’ said Josie.
‘That’s a lot ta takes in.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Josie. ‘I imagine it is. Get used to it. There’s still a lot more for you to take in.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Tark. ‘Like wot yar lot’s all about?’
‘I really think you should at least try to speak like everyone else.’ Tark opened his mouth to protest, but she continued. ‘If we are going to help you get Zyra, we need you to be able to blend in. Surely Zyra is worth the effort?’
‘I’m not stupid, you know,’ said Tark, the gutter speak dropping away. ‘I can fit in if I need to. I’ve spent enough time in Suburbia to be able to speak just like you.’ He paused, a little surprised at how right the speech pattern felt. It didn’t matter – no one was going to tell him how he should be talking. ‘But till I needs ta … Why shoulds I?’
Gamers' Rebellion Page 3