Gamers' Rebellion

by George Ivanoff

  ‘Designer Alpha,’ he called. ‘I’ve got containment at maximum. But the tank’s integrity has been compromised.’ He gave Tark a scowl. ‘There’s nothing more I can do. Time for me to leave.’

  There was no answer.

  ‘Exit!’ Designer Beta shouted. ‘Let me out!’

  Still no answer.

  ‘Designer Alpha?’ he yelled, hitting the communications switch again. ‘Burrows!’

  He stabbed at the switch, hand trembling a little, over and over.

  ‘Tina, please!’ His voice softened to a pleading tone. ‘Let me out.’

  Still no response.

  Designer Beta brought his fist down onto the communications switch. It snapped off.

  ‘FINE!’ he screamed, his voice cracking a little. He was looking up at nothing in particular, turning from right to left. ‘I’ll get myself out. Don’t think that I can’t.’

  Designer Beta threw himself at the controls like a maniac. Tark watched with a certain sense of satisfaction, despite the pain in his leg.

  ‘Help!’ He heard the voice in his mind again. ‘Help you.’

  He looked up towards the tank. Mel stared out at him, floating in the green liquid. ‘Help you.’

  Tark dragged himself across the floor, breath coming in ragged gasps. He made it to the tank and pressed his face up against the glass above the crack. His eyes connected with Mel’s.

  ‘Help you,’ she said again.

  Tark let go of his leg and placed a bloody hand up against the glass, redness smearing across the surface. The girl also placed her hand up to the glass, fingers spread.

  The gun fired. The floor next to Tark’s foot erupted where the bullet bit into its surface. He looked up to see Designer Beta, levelling the gun at his head.

  ‘I don’t care what she says anymore.’ His finger tightened on the trigger. ‘I want you dead.’

  Tark squeezed his eyes shut. Inside his head, he heard the girl’s voice.

  ‘Help you,’ she said. ‘Bring you hope.’

  And then he was gone.

  29: Portal Battle

  Robbie led Zyra up through the hatch in the floor, into the programming portal.

  Designer Prime was engaged in complex code manipulation. Numbers swam around him as his finger picked out digits and moved them, replaced them or deleted them. At the edges of the display, symbols spun together in a little tornado of code.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ asked Zyra.

  ‘He is designing,’ explained Robbie, eyes wide. ‘He is working with raw code.’

  Zyra watched as Robert took a string of code and picked it apart, deleting at least a third of it, before adding new numbers. He then pushed the string into a larger set of numbers and symbols, pushing forward to the next set, numbers rushing past him like the swell in a binary sea. There was such an energy and exhilaration in his actions. He was still old and encased in tech, but a youthful exuberance fuelled his movements.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Zyra, pointing to the edge of the display.

  The little code tornado was growing, swirling around, gathering more digits, working its way towards Designer Prime.

  ‘That is Designer Alpha’s attempts to stop me,’ said Robert. ‘She has created a code vortex in the hope of deleting my amendments.’

  Zyra noticed the strain in the Designer’s voice.

  ‘I will not let her win.’

  As one hand continued to work on the nanobot coding, Robert’s other hand created a new stream of numbers.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Zyra.

  ‘He’s reversing the polarity of her neutron flow,’ said Robbie.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ said Zyra.

  ‘Neither will she.’ Robbie smiled. ‘It’s nonsense. It means nothing. But she will think that it does. She’ll try to understand it.’

  The second lot of coding complete, Robert pushed it towards the code tornado. His numbers collided with Designer Alpha’s in a binary explosion. The fallout of dispersed numbers buffeted Robert, scattering some of the primary code that he had been working on. With methodical intent, Robert gathered the digits, reinserted them and continued with the coding.

  ‘Almost there,’ said Robert, sweat beading on his forehead.

  At the edges of the display, digits were grouping. They moved towards each other, around each other, through each other. A new tornado of code took shape. Bigger this time, it shifted slowly across the display, gathering code into its vortex as it went.

  ‘Watch out,’ warned Zyra.

  Robert sent out another small wave of code towards it. The digital storm barely paused as it absorbed the new set of numbers.

  ‘Almost,’ said Robert, ignoring the tornado now and concentrating on his main coding. ‘This will give them physical presence within the Game,’ he said. ‘But they will be confused.’ Robert strained to get the words out. ‘Some more than others. The longer they have been connected, the more difficult it will be for them to regain a normal consciousness.’ He shifted more numbers. ‘This may affect the stability of the Game.’

  The tornado code was getting dangerously close to Robert, but he continued to ignore it in favour of the nanobot programming.

  ‘Got it!’ he said, adding the last decimal point with a little flourish. Using both hands he pushed his coding out into the system, just as the code tornado reached him.

  The swirling mass of coding enveloped him, lifted him and his chair up off the ground and dragged him into the maelstrom. Zyra and Robbie watched in horror as the coding pulled at Robert in all directions at once.

  ‘It’s going to tear him apart,’ gasped Zyra.

  ‘Close portal,’ called Robbie.

  ‘Unable to comply,’ said the androgynous voice of the computer.

  ‘Override access code CARBON COPY ONE,’ shouted Robbie. ‘Close portal.’

  ‘Access code denied,’ said the voice. ‘Unable to comply.’

  Robert screamed as the tornado pulled at his chair. Pieces were ripped off and eaten up by the coding.

  ‘Is there any way to disconnect it?’ asked Zyra, turning to Robbie in desperation.

  ‘No,’ said Robbie. ‘The computer won’t give me access. Designer Alpha must have removed my access code.’

  With most of the chair gone, Robert’s body was stretched out into an X shape as the coding continued to swirl around him, pulling him simultaneously in all directions. His withered legs looked as if they were about to be torn from his body, his frail back as if it would snap at any moment. His mechanical arm was bent at an impossible angle as it came apart.

  ‘What about me?’ asked Zyra. ‘Can I do something?’

  ‘Designer Alpha might not have removed your access,’ said Robbie. ‘She may not even have realised you had been given access.’

  Zyra stepped forward. ‘Computer, let me in.’

  ‘Security scan.’

  The green light wavered across her body.

  ‘Identity confirmed,’ said the computer. ‘Welcome, Zyra.’

  ‘Close portal,’ shouted Zyra. ‘Now!’

  The display vanished. Robert and the debris of his chair came crashing to the floor.

  Zyra and Robbie rushed over to Robert’s crumpled form.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Zyra, taking hold of his withered hand.

  ‘No,’ said Robert. Without his chair, Robert’s voice, for the first time in many years, came from his dry and cracked lips. It had lost its electronic edge and its authority – it was barely a whispered croak. He looked up at Zyra. ‘It’s up to you now. Save them. Save the Game.’ He coughed. ‘It is so much more than a Game. It is real to those inside. It is their only reality. And they deserve to live within it.’

  He shifted his gaze to Robbie. ‘You are my legacy in this world, as Bobby is inside the Game.’ He looked into Robbie’s eyes and gasped. ‘It has all been prepared for. Programmed. Designed. As I die … sleeper code released. You … are now … me.’

  Robert closed his
eyes for the last time.

  ‘Oh, Robert,’ Zyra whispered.

  She looked across at Robbie. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

  ‘What do we do now?’ asked Zyra.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Robbie. ‘I don’t care.’

  30: Hope

  Tark was lying in the rubble of a ruined building. His eyes were still tightly shut, his leg burning with agony from where he had been shot.

  ‘Tark?’ asked a familiar voice.

  ‘Tark, you’re hurt.’ Tark relaxed slightly and found himself looking into a pair of very familiar eyes. At first he thought it was Zyra. Then he looked at the rest of the face and realised it wasn’t. It was …

  ‘Hope?’

  Tark could hardly believe it. Hope – the daughter of a previous Tark and Zyra. It was she and his Zyra who had gone in search of, and found, the Ultimate Gamer.

  The woman nodded and crouched over him, examining his leg. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’ve been shot by an insane Designer.’

  ‘Really?’ Hope stared at him, crow’s-feet crinkling around her tired eyes. ‘Still living the exciting life. I guess we better fix you up.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Tark, grimacing. ‘I’m not staying. I’m betting I’ll be okay when I exit the Game.’

  ‘Exit the Game?’ Hope stood up and put her hands on her hips. ‘Come and go as you please, do you?’

  ‘Something like that,’ answered Tark, looking up at her.

  She looked different. Her clothes were just a variation on what she was wearing the last time he had seen her – black leather with spiky metal bits. But her face, her hair …

  ‘What happened to you?’ asked Tark. ‘You’re old!’

  ‘And you’re not,’ said Hope, stating the obvious.

  ‘How come you’re old?’

  ‘Well, let’s see,’ said Hope, looking at the ruined buildings that surrounded them. ‘It might have something to do with the fact that it’s been over thirty years since you and Zyra exited the Game.’

  ‘Thirty years!’ Tark looked dumbfounded. ‘No way! It’s only been … what … less than a day?’

  And what a day it had been. He had thought his life in the Game had been excessively filled with danger and adventure and over-the-top threats, but it was nothing compared to what had been happening in the real world.

  ‘Trust me,’ said Hope, looking back at Tark. ‘I’ve been keeping count. Thirty years, five months and seven days.’ She lifted up her arm and checked her watch. ‘You want it down to the hours and minutes?’

  ‘Time must work differently inside and outside the Game,’ said Tark.

  He looked at Hope. It was strange enough that his sort-of daughter had been a couple of years older than him when he had last seen her. But now she was in her forties and he was still sixteen. It was just too weird for words.

  ‘I wonder why Mel sent me here?’ he whispered to himself.

  ‘Who sent you here?’ asked Hope.

  ‘Mel,’ answered Tark. ‘A girl who’s been trapped by the Designers in a hidden environment along with a whole bunch of other kids.’

  ‘Right,’ said Hope. ‘So you haven’t really done anything. Thirty years and you haven’t found a way out for the rest of us.’

  ‘It’s only been a day,’ said Tark, defensively.

  ‘So you keep saying.’

  ‘Well, it’s the truth,’ insisted Tark.

  ‘Your truth,’ corrected Hope. ‘Our truth is a little different. Our truth is thirty years long. In our truth, my father is dead. In our truth, we have more Outers than we have ever had. In our truth, we …’

  ‘Tee is dead?’ Tark said slowly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hope, sombrely. ‘The first Outer to die of old age.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Tark’s voice was tiny, hardly a whisper. ‘I really am. But we are trying. We are fighting the Designers. We’re trying to stop them.’

  ‘Well, let us help,’ said Hope. ‘There are hundreds of us now. Let us be useful. Let us do something.’

  ‘I have to get back,’ said Tark.

  ‘What?’ Hope looked angry. ‘What about us? Are you going to be gone for another thirty years? What are we supposed to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tark. ‘I don’t really know what’s going on. All I know is that I’ve got to get back and find Zyra. And help the rebels against the Designers.’

  ‘Rebels?’

  ‘Yes, rebels,’ said Tark. ‘I guess you could call them the Outers of the real world.’

  ‘Real world.’ Hope said the words with awe.

  ‘Yes, real world,’ said Tark. ‘There really is a real world out there. But it’s really no better than this one. It’s just as unfair. Just as difficult. Just … different.’

  Hope stared at him, her expression unreadable.

  ‘Tark!’ Josie’s voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Where the hell are you? Are you okay? Your vitals are through the roof.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m okay. Sort of,’ said Tark. ‘Too much to explain here. I’ll fill you in when I get back.’

  ‘Tark,’ said Hope, a strange look on her face. ‘Who are you talking to?’

  ‘Josie,’ he said. ‘Leader of the rebels. You can’t hear her?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Josie,’ said Tark. ‘Can you hear Hope?’

  ‘Who’s Hope?’

  ‘Never mind.’ Tark faced Hope again. ‘She can’t hear you either. Doesn’t matter. Listen … I’m not sure why I’ve been brought here. But I’m guessing it was to find Outers … to find you. So be ready. I have a feeling you are about to join a rebellion.’

  31: The Plan

  ‘Snap out if it,’ said Zyra. She was holding Robbie by the shoulders and shaking him. ‘This isn’t over.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  Zyra looked into Robbie’s tear-filled eyes. It was as if all hope had been drained from them.

  ‘It isn’t over,’ Zyra repeated. ‘Robert is gone. Yes. But he got the nanobots reprogrammed, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Robbie. ‘But who knows if it will do any good.’

  ‘Robbie, listen to me,’ said Zyra. ‘You can’t give up. Robert would not have wanted you to give up. He obviously had great faith in you. Don’t throw that away.’

  ‘I am just a robot … a clone.’

  ‘No,’ insisted Zyra. ‘You are not just a robot. You are not just a clone. You are your own person. You are who you want to be. And I think that Robert knew that. Now snap out of it.’

  Robbie nodded slowly.

  ‘Right,’ said Zyra. ‘The nanobots have been reprogrammed. So that means that the children have been freed?’

  ‘No,’ said Robbie. ‘At least not straight away. It’s going to take a while for the new nanobots to do their work. And remember, we’re not actually sure what the effects will be once the children take on a physical presence in the Game.’

  ‘So, what can we do?’ asked Zyra.

  Robbie straightened up, pulling back his shoulders and standing taller.

  ‘Well, for starters, we can check on the progress … assuming I can get access to the portal. Help me with Robert.’

  They picked up Robert’s frail, lifeless body and carried it to one corner of the room, laying it down gently. Robbie then positioned himself in the centre. He glanced nervously at Zyra. ‘Activate portal.’

  ‘Security scan.’

  Robbie’s whole body tensed. Waves of green light flickered across him.

  ‘Identity confirmed,’ said the computer voice.

  Robbie visibly relaxed.

  ‘Praise be to Designer Prime,’ the computer continued. ‘Unrestricted access granted.’

  The holographic controls materialised around Robbie.

  He looked over at Zyra, eyes filled with wonder. ‘It thinks I’m Designer Prime.’

  ‘Robert is dead,’ reasoned Zyra. ‘He said there was a sleeper code. He must have programmed the computer to reco
gnise you as Designer Prime if he died.’

  Robbie’s hands shook a little as they operated the controls. Strings of code materialised around him, moving around in patterns. ‘Nanobot reprogramming confirmed,’ said Robbie. ‘Dispatch in progress. It will take several hours to complete. The nanobots need to replicate themselves. There are a lot of children. Robert has set it up so that they are distributed as they are replicated. It has already started with the most recent of those connected. That’s Mel.’

  Robbie worked the controls with greater confidence. The strings of code faded and were replaced with the environment menu. He looked through the options and chose one.

  ‘Designer Alpha’s environment is no longer concealed.’

  The display showed the familiar desolate landscape that Zyra and Tark had travelled through. As Zyra watched, Robbie guided the display through to the breach in the hidden environment, and inside. Designer Beta was standing beside the tank, staring as the liquid bubbled away.

  Inside the tank, the ghostly image of Mel pressed herself up against the glass, hands splayed out against the surface; then she passed through the glass.

  Designer Beta backed away till he reached the computer equipment. He immediately began working at his consoles.

  Mel stared at her hands, slowly gaining solidity. Behind her, more images approached the glass, pressing themselves up against it.

  ‘It’s working,’ said Robbie.

  ‘Alert!’ The computer voice announced. ‘Attempted breach of prime programming portal.’

  Robbie swiped his arm across the display. The image of Mel and Designer Beta vanished, replaced by status reports.

  ‘Designer Alpha’s grunts are trying to get in,’ said Robbie. ‘They’ve been unsuccessful thus far. But they have now brought in a heavy-duty laser drill. It is only a matter of time before they break through.’

  ‘What do we do?’ asked Zyra.

  ‘We can’t stay here too much longer,’ said Robbie. ‘We need to finish up and move out.’

  The display around Robbie wavered and dispersed to be replaced by an image of Designer Alpha, surrounded by her own set of holographic controls within her own personal programming portal.