Jordan recognized the orange-furred, four-eyed orangutan who had just broken into her kitchen, knife in hand.
“Shannanon, what are you doing here?”
Today her friend was wearing a short, low-cut floral sundress that left little to the imagination. But Shannanon only paused briefly once through the door. She charged forward, teeth bared. An Earth orangutan was a docile creature that ate mostly fruit and vegetation. This particular member of the Galactic Commons had small, sharp teeth with prominent canines designed to tear flesh.
“Get down, human,” Shannanon said with a snarl.
At first Jordan thought her friend was going after Fang. She reeled her foggy ward close when she saw something move behind her. A maintenance bot came out of the hallway. Both of its arms reached towards Jordan, but not before Shannanon crossed the kitchen in a pair of jumps off the counters and slammed into the bot. The bot bent backwards, its arms waving about. But in an instant, like a child’s inflatable punching bag with a Bozo the Clown head, it popped upright again.
Shannanon drove the black blade into the top of the bot. The bot made a squeak, followed by a beep, and then slumped down. All the lights on its body faded. Shannanon withdrew the knife and examined the dead machine. Gave it a poke.
“Where did that thing come from?” Jordan asked. “What was it doing?”
“I had one at my place manage to break into my apartment. It knew my keycode. Must have got it from my memory. I’ve seen more of them buzzing about. There’s hundreds, maybe. They appear to be ordinary maintenance bots that are going after people that are playing the new games.”
“To attack them?”
“Er, no. I think to feed folks, help them eliminate waste, and stimulate their muscles so they don’t atrophy. Some kind of nursing software.”
“So not dangerous.”
“No.”
“So why did you kill this one?”
Shannanon stared at the dead bot. She sheathed her knife and scratched her head.
“You got stuck in the game too?” Jordan asked, changing the subject. “I tried to talk to you, but you didn’t answer.”
“I know. That’s when you unfriended me.” Shannanon’s broad cheeks fell into a scowl.
“I’m sorry! I was upset, and you seemed to be ignoring me. Of course, now I realize you might have been logged in and passed out. So how did you get out, anyways? I went and killed myself.”
Shannanon wore a distasteful look. “Actually, I’m still logged in down in the labyrinth, dancing away. But I essentially have two brains, and I keep one clean of any programs. In case this game ever gets sorted out, I’m going to have such a high level of dance, I’ll be unstoppable.”
Fang puttered over to the downed bot, considered it for a moment, and let out a bored chirp. It then wrapped a tentacle around Shannanon and stared at her.
“I see Fang is growing. Your little child couldn’t wake you up?”
“No. I actually wound up sending a message to the cops. I couldn’t think of anything else. Fang wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help me get free.”
Shannanon patted the slimy tentacle on her arm.
“So how many other people did you give this game to, exactly?” Jordan asked.
***
Oliop watched as a pair of soldiers wearing helmets and some kind of bulky eyewear got out of a military vehicle. They were greeted by four Thaco soldiers. In moments there were six Thaco soldiers.
The humans that circulated about the outer camp were distracted in chasing one another down and depositing barfed-up Thaco into each other’s faces. Not a shot was fired. The humans tended to stand their ground and rely on the authority in their voice, which Thaco ignored as it welcomed another soldier or man in a dark suit into its fold.
Oliop backed away and kept moving.
No one noticed him as he slinked through the shadows of large tents and temporary buildings. The ground underneath his feet was dry and hard. The structures had freshly stenciled numbers and words on them in black paint clearly labeling each building. The labels were written directly over the faded initials FEMA, whatever that was.
Oliop deployed his four little bots. These led the way, their sensors testing the air for any security measures that he might trip. A single road led away from the camp. His bots immediately picked up a series of infrared strobes lining the road, similar to what he had seen at the base’s helicopter pad. The normally invisible lights would allow the soldiers with their crude night-vision devices to see the road while driving to and from the camp. Some kind of motion detection could piggyback on the infrared pulses. There could be other measures in place for defending the perimeter, either keeping intruders out or prisoners in. He would have to keep his distance until he was sure.
He had been driven down this road during the middle of the day when captured. He recognized the rusting frame of some kind of farming vehicle in the field and knew that this was indeed the way back to the abandoned airport and the elevator. He needed to cross the road. He sent his four minions forth, his tiny bots shielded from most rudimentary detection measures. They confirmed the infrared lights and mapped out their coverage and range. They also discovered small motion sensors placed at regular intervals around the perimeter of the camp. His bots flagged each of these. They also found a series of tall posts with large lights (all turned off), cameras (all on), and more infrared devices.
Unless the humans wanted false alarms with every tiny critter that scurried past, Oliop assumed these would ignore his bugs as they visited each post. Should he deliver false alarms? Spoof his own signal at the other side of camp? Deliver feedback that would blind each sensor? All of these options would require more than a single command. Oliop settled for frying everything in his bots’ path.
If there were any humans left that cared, this would trigger all sorts of alerts. In fact, he guessed he could walk through the field without anyone responding to his escape. But if there were any uninfected humans still out on patrol, these might be alerted to a general alarm of that nature. Or the failure of a quarter of their perimeter sensors might be chalked up to a simple equipment failure. So many variables. But time was running out for Jeff and the friendly doctor. Measure once and go for it.
The bots acted in unison, shorting out all the sensors in their range. They checked their work and signaled back. A wide swathe was now free from active security surveillance. Oliop trotted forth through the field by the road. He recalled his bots and paused only when he made it to a grove of trees. The refugee camp was now far enough away that he could see only a crown of lights. The surrounding countryside was still dark, the sun just beginning to color the sky in pink.
He checked his navigation software. For a moment he admired his pedometer tracker that highlighted each step he took during any given day. The data, while useless, was beautiful. The swirling pattern around his apartment and workspace reminded him of the glowing moths of his homeworld when photographed with a long exposure. He closed that and found a path that would return him to the airfield.
He took a last look for any more sensors, saw none, and started to run.
A blinding white light shot out from across a clearing. A booming voice shouted, “Halt!”
Humans. Had they smelled him? What had he missed?
Oliop kept running, shouting, “Don’t shoot me!”
The humans wouldn’t understand. Most species didn’t like the sound of different species’ speech until they were disabused of their misgivings by a Galactic Commons translator. But the the humans wouldn’t risk starting some kind of interplanetary incident by shooting an unarmed visitor, would they?
Oliop heard a pop and something whizzed by his face. “Last warning! Do not move!”
Oliop froze and raised his hands. He heard an engine start up, something big based on internal combustion. The spotlight must have been mounted on whatever vehicle now approached him. Oliop closed his eyes, kept his hands up, and willed himself to excrete go
od human vibes so the soldiers wouldn’t have any reason to shoot him.
Someone got down off the vehicle and crunched through the grass next to Oliop. Oliop felt a hand on his neck. The soldier pushed him towards the rear of the vehicle. At least he was out of the light. A ramp dropped down, allowing access to the vehicle’s interior.
“Go on in,” the soldier said.
Oliop looked at the man. He kept one hand on Oliop and another on a longer weapon held up to the man’s shoulder. He wore matte-black plastic-looking armor with lots and lots of straps and buckles and pouches. He also had a sidearm and a radio and a shoulder light.
“You got him?” asked the driver.
“Yup,” said the soldier. “He’s not a problem. Just another runaway. You’re not going to be a problem, are you?”
Oliop played dumb and didn’t answer. He ascended the ramp into the vehicle and sat down on a fold-out seat attached to the interior hull.
“Anything else on audio?” the soldier asked.
“All quiet. Just whatever is going on at camp. No answer on the radio. What do we do?”
“Our job. We sit on our guest, make sure no one else escapes, and stay at our post.”
Oliop murmured, “Trouble for your friends, human.”
The soldier gave Oliop a look. The weapon was still at the ready. “This guy sounds like a chimp when he talks. Too funny.”
Oliop understood what a chimp was. His ears drooped.
“Ha!” laughed the soldier. “It’s like this guy can understand me. Maybe Doctor Cochran is right, and they all can. Can you understand me?”
The soldier leaned in close. He made a face and a monkey noise. Oliop reached around with his tail and gently opened one of the soldier’s belt pouches and removed the contents.
“Vehicle coming from camp,” the driver said.
The soldier with the rifle went down the ramp. Oliop heard a second vehicle approach. He looked to see what his tail had pilfered. It was a plastic-wrapped set of four darts. The rifle the man carried was loaded with these, no doubt. Nonlethal? No way to know. Oliop pocketed the darts. And they had found him by listening. Oliop felt a flash of disappointment. Sneaking past things was his specialty. Yet he had run through the crunchy Earth grass like a blundering savanna herd animal.
The second vehicle stopped just outside. Oliop peeked out the back.
The first soldier approached a black nonmilitary vehicle like the one Oliop had broken into at the airfield. He had his shoulder light turned on, shining on the newcomers. The agent with the flat nose got out.
“Run, human!” Oliop shouted.
The soldier turned towards Oliop with a look of confusion. Flat Nose needed no further opportunity. He reached around the soldier’s head and pushed a ball of slime in the soldier’s face. The soldier fell to the dirt, gagging.
“What’s going on?” asked the driver. He was out of the vehicle now and had a sidearm pointed at Flat Nose. “What did you do to him?”
“Stand down,” Flat Nose said.
From around the back of the black vehicle came the Director.
“Yes, stand down,” the Director said. “There’s a situation at camp that needs all of our cooperation.”
“Director?” the soldier asked. “Did you see what he did?”
The soldier lowered the pistol ever so slightly.
The Director had a ball of Thaco virus in his hand. He held it up for the soldier to see. The soldier began to back away. He stumbled. Flat Nose was on him, pinning his arms to the ground. The pistol fired once into the air. The Director approached. “It’s at this point I’d like to address not you but the many organisms within. How would you like to make a new acquaintance?”
With that the Director slapped the glop into the soldier’s face.
Oliop slipped out of the back of the vehicle and ran.
***
Jeff walked about the game lobby in his mind. Zachary followed.
“I started digging a tunnel out of my room with a spoon,” Zachary said. “You could help.”
“That’s nice,” Jeff said. “But I’ll pass.”
“Doc says if you take your meds, he’ll let you visit with your wife again.”
Jeff stopped and turned to face Zachary.
“I thought I got rid of you. Do I need to reboot the game world again?”
Zachary shrugged. “You could try.”
Jeff leaned in close, gave Zachary a once-over. The man smelled of sweat. His stringy hair hadn’t been washed in weeks. Food stains formed a chaotic pattern on the front of his pajama shirt. Jeff poked him in the shoulder. He felt a warm, firm body underneath. As solid as anyone Jeff had ever met.
“So your game, the one you’re part of,” Jeff asked. “What’s that called?”
“It’s not a game, it’s an experience.”
“It’s a game,” Jeff said. “It’s not real. You’re not real. Yet here you are outside of your game world bugging me. Is there a menu?”
Zachary didn’t say anything. But floating in the air, many windows appeared, each displaying a view into a different world. As Jeff studied them, he saw the windows all had labels and the worlds were alive with action. One showed what looked like volcanoes exploding. Another, an underwater scene replete with floating jellyfish that glowed in a dark, churning tide. One looked like the inside of a hospital. This one was labeled “Doubt and Apprehension.”
“That’s your game,” Jeff said. “You’re a creature of that environment. Why do you want me back in there so badly?”
“Because it’s where you belong. Because you have issues, man.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Jeff looked at the other windows. He saw a burning city labeled “Invasion! Target: Earth.” No doubt ALPO waited therein, assuming the sergeant had respawned after his messy end. Jeff once again considered the mental patient standing beside him.
“How did you survive the reboot of the game program?” Jeff asked.
Zachary shrugged. “Good genes, Jeffy. By the way, the nine of clubs is missing from every deck of cards in the game room. Don’t you want to solve that mystery? Got to log in to do it.”
“I’ll pass.”
He examined the windows. The entire screen scrolled with a thought, moving both vertically and horizontally. There were more offerings, scores of colorful, flashing alternate realities. A few screens were labeled “Coming Soon!” and “Preview Available!” in pulsating, burning letters.
He also saw a table labeled “Achievement Rewards!” There he found the almost-out-of-power tablet from Doubt and Apprehension next to a pile of CD-ROMs with “Share with your friends!” stickers. Impressions of other items were also on the table, appearing as faint outlines, shades of loot that could be earned.
“Gotta pick one,” Zachary said. “Whatever’s going on upstairs has you trapped here, doesn’t it?”
“This isn’t all installed in my head, is it?” Jeff asked. Zachary didn’t answer. “So how did this get here? Are these games free? Someone must make them for profit.”
“You could be living a dozen lifetimes, and instead you’re standing around contemplating the meaning of it all,” Zachary said. “If you don’t want to come with me and have the Doc help you work through your problems, that’s fine. But you could explore a water world where you can breathe like a fish. Go back and fight off an alien invasion. Become a detective. Sample foods from every city and world in the galaxy. There’s one sim all about space bees. Not sure who that appeals to, but to each their own. You’re bringing me down just doing nothing. Pick something, already.”
Jeff moved the selection of games every which way until it became a blur of color scrolling past. Then he took a step back. “This isn’t the entirety of the interface. It can’t be.”
Jeff began to walk around the back of the giant screen.
“Dude, don’t be a downer,” Zachary said.
Three small lavender monitors were attached to the rear of the large display, und
erstated data access points in contrast to the colors and hype on the opposite side. Jeff touched the first one. In black letters, Jeff saw the words “User Options.”
Somehow Ceph had made contact with him. The mysterious game interface connected with the Galactic Commons internet through the translator. So Jeff should be able to communicate with Ceph. He looked for a contact list. There in plain text he saw “Friends.” The list was empty. If he had only taken the time to talk to Ceph some more, added him to his friend list, taken the time to understand the virtual world and its rules. But instead, Jeff had rebooted.
“Aren’t we friends?” Zachary asked, his voice laced with hurt.
Jeff looked for a directory. Non-private users: 234,674.
“More users coming soon!” Zachary said when Jeff stared at the number. “Invite folks you know for an enhanced experience and game credits, dude.”
“All those people playing. How is that possible?”
“Word just spreads fast. Maybe everyone will give it a try soon. It will be the next big thing, and here you are on the cutting edge.”
“Does everyone have such a hard time logging back out?”
Zachary didn’t answer.
Jeff found a filter that offered to sort by game, proximity, likes, dislikes, acquaintances, and species. His acquaintance list was also empty.
“Would you like to browse your contact list?” the program asked.
Jeff said, “Yes.”
But Jeff’s contact list was in his com unit, which was inside his broken tablet.
“Zero acquaintances added,” the program said.
Jeff filtered the users by species. Human. Two names appeared. Jordan and his own. He felt a flush of irritation come over him, as he had never registered with this or any game yet it knew him and had accessed its data through unsavory means. It was bad enough that somehow a catalog of entertainment products had been glued into some kind of mental workspace.
Jeff sent a friend request. It was immediately accepted, yet he noticed she wasn’t online. She had managed to get out somehow, assuming the data from the contact list was correct.
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