Mac faced the window, staring down into the bowels of Karma HQ. “That was a bad day. Hell, a bad six months. The shareholders ... they must have tried to fire me five times, just in that first week. Probably a dozen more times in the month after that.”
“And a few more times you never found out about.”
“I think you’re more right than you know,” Mac nodded. “Took them a while to realize. Took us all time to realize that Skirmish was gone, that it was never coming back. All we could do at that point was push forward.”
“Well, now it looks like you’ve got plans up to your elbows.” Mitch pointed down to Mac’s desk. “Looks like they’ve finally got you doing some real work around here.”
“Yes, yes.” Mac looked down at the piles, his eyes filled with a new hint of excitement—a look Mitch couldn’t remember seeing on his old friend’s face in a long time. “Lots to do, lots to do. Some of the newest experiences are about ready to come online. You’ve got to see some of these, Mitch. They’re breathtaking. Revolutionary. A new cityscape adventure game, with a full plotline that would make any Hollywood producer green with envy. And another with a fully baked fantasy world, like nothing you’ve ever seen. Dragons and elves, magic and swords, and there you are—right in the middle of all of it. Completely immersed. This one here ... ” Mac picked up a tablet, turning it to face Mitch, scrolling left to right through the game’s synopsis. “Space battles. Battleships, alien forces, a mission to save it all. And of course, open worlds. Entire planets we’re designing from scratch. Can you imagine? And it never would have happened if Skirmish was still here.”
“Sometimes you find your calling,” Mitch said. “Sometimes your calling comes knocking at your door. You using all human design for these?”
“Human-guided design. Some AI to build out the rough edges, but nothing ... obviously nothing as far as we tried in the past. The board is happy with the progress. Not just for this first set of virtual worlds, but for what’s to come.”
“Look at you, a regular innovator,” Mitch laughed. “Got to say, Mac, a lot of people would have walked away and quit. But you’re turning the page on Karma, writing a whole new chapter. Might even say that Skirmish getting deleted could be the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“You’re not getting out of this that easy,” Mac laughed. “It’s a new start, sure. Could be a new start for you, too. You can be a big part of this ... you know that. This is your calling as well. You and me—it’s always been you and me in these games. You have to see these worlds … to go inside and feel them. And they’re almost ready for you ... I want you to be the first to see what—”
“Hold on, Mac. I’ve done my time. You’re getting a second lease on life, and I’ve got the same, just in a different direction. Getting off the grid was the best thing I ever did. Took some getting used to, but it’s only a year in.”
“But what will you do? Nothing? Nothing can only last for so long. You’ve never been the kind to just sit around on your hands.”
“Turns out I’m pretty good at it. I’ve got enough money now to sit for awhile, thanks to you.”
Mac took a sip of his drink and shook off the gratitude. “Don’t have to thank a man for a keeping his word.”
“Lots of men wouldn’t honor that deal, not after what went down. That’s why I’m here today—you know that. You honor your promises, I honor mine.” Mitch’s gaze drifted past Mac and back into the clockwork rhythm of the Karma world behind him. He lost himself, just for a moment, as his memory took over, sparking images of the robots of NeverRise, the rotting faces of DeadBlood. Nefarious, fighting by his side. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “How’s the team?”
Mac’s expression faded. “You haven’t spoken to them?”
“Not really, not since the last day,” Mitch said. “They were as surprised as you were about what happened. Not everyone saw it the same way, I guess. Just figured they’d reach out when they were ready. Besides, with Skirmish gone, figured we didn’t have much to talk about anymore. I just figured ... I was just wondering you knew. If they’re doing all right.”
“They’re fine, Mitch,” Mac said. “They’re all going through the same thing as you right now, each in their own way, I suppose. Trying to figure out what’s next, but not straying too far. Staying close.”
Mitch nodded to himself, scratching at the digital leather on his chair. He wasn’t ashamed of falling back out of contact with the team so fast, but he sure wasn’t proud of it, either. But how do you stay in touch with people when you have nothing to talk about? He wasn’t about to set up weekly meetings or start a book club or any of that shit. Without a mission, Mitch had figured the best thing to do was to not force it. Just to let them be. And the lack of messages in his inbox—when he bothered to check—told him that they felt the same.
“They ask about you, too, you know,” Mac added. “They’ve never been shy about that.” Mac’s eyes lit up with life. “We should get you all together. Yes! We can build a dedicated chat room—off the books. No one from the press or Karma Systems will even know about it. If you need something to talk about, I’d be happy to—”
“I’m fine,” Mitch said, waving off Mac. “It’s fine. I’m sure they’re busy, I’m glad to hear they’re doing well. Maybe it’s best to just leave it at that.” Mitch tugged at the corner of his avatar’s collar, trying to let in a breath of virtual air.
“What about the question you haven’t asked me?” Mac asked. “The real reason you came here today. Do you want to know the answer?”
Mitch’s eyes fell down to the floor. The old man was smart, and the old man was right—the question had been bouncing through Mitch’s head ever since he walked in the door, hanging off the tip of his tongue.
“Any sign of him?” Mitch asked, raising his eyes back up to Mac’s.
“Nothing,” Mac said. “Not since you activated the final code package. Maybe a few artifacts here and there, but nothing that looks like a single program.”
“Artifacts?”
“The code package activation destroyed Skirmish, but with Red Code, it appears he wasn’t added into the delete sequence. For some reason, his bits went the other direction, spread out, like ... some sort of digital mist. He’s nowhere and everywhere now. Just pieces, really. We have collector programs out there, cleaning up the mess, but it’s just a formality. The board of directors insisted. But there’s no sign any part of him trying to regroup, or even knowing the other parts exist. I think it’s over, Mitch.”
Mitch relaxed back deep into the chair. He’d actually done it. He’d saved that bunch of rat bastards he used to call his teammates, and got rid of Red Code in the process. He’d never taken credit for anything that had happened a year ago, never granted himself permission to feel at ease. With the veil of Skirmish’s destruction laid over his victory, it had never really registered as a win.
Not until now.
“You did it,” Mac said. “He’s gone, and you brought the Nefarious Five home safe. No one else in the world could have done what you did.”
“You’re happy, I’m happy.” Mitch pushed up from the chair, straightening his jacket as he found his feet.
“Leaving so soon?”
“I’ve got stuff to get back to.”
“No, you don’t.”
Mitch chuckled, extending out a virtual hand. “You’re right, but you’re a busy man. See you next year?”
“Mitch, these worlds we’re building—we’ll need help,” Mac said. “We’ll need users that can explore, to push the boundaries of the systems. Even we don’t know quite what we’ve created in every instance. I need smart people to push those buttons for me. I need good people to make sure they’re safe.”
Mitch shook his head. “I’m too old to be playing games for the rest of my life, Mac. Maybe it’s time for me to find something real.”
“Well, like you said,” Mac said. “Sometimes you find your calling, and sometimes your calling
comes knocking at your door. Be good Mitch.”
“You, too, old man. And, oh yeah, as always, the place looks fantastic.” The two shook hands and Mitch turned, heading towards the door, leaving the buzz of Karma Systems HQ behind him. Ready to head back to the real world, ready to find his next adventure.
The doors opened and Mitch crossed the threshold, looking into Mac’s waiting room to see four figures sitting in front of him. Dozer, Chu, Punch, and Fuse. They each rose in unison, staring back at Mitch, waiting for someone to say something. Anything.
Mac—you son of a bitch.
FORTY-FIVE
A Bit of an Adjustment
THE WALL of silence greeting Mitch spoke volumes. Over the past year, a lot of good and bad had gone by, but he knew that with every day away from the Nefarious Five, the reunion would be that much harder. Maybe that’s why he’d put it off, maybe that’s why he hadn’t reached out any of the thousand times the idea had popped into his head. Maybe they were overreacting, but probably not. If he put himself into their shoes, what they were looking at wasn’t pretty: a guy that had destroyed their way of life without asking permission. Like a magician, ripping a tablecloth out from under the place settings, except this time, nothing stayed in place. Everything went flying and never came back.
But, still, maybe old friends knew how to forgive. Maybe old friends have a bond stronger than any obstacle that can come between them. Maybe old friends can mend old wounds and move on.
“Asshole,” Dozer whispered, stepping back on her heels, like a fighter sizing up her opponent at the center of the ring. “What are you doing here?”
Mitch’s mind went to work: should he dig in and not give an inch? Fall to his knees, groveling for their forgiveness? Laugh it off? Nothing was coming to him, not that he didn’t have enough silence to concentrate on the answer.
“Idiots,” Chu said, stepping forward and throwing a good dose of judgment back at the team. “No honor. No respect.” She turned to face Mitch, her ponytail swinging across her shoulder. “Hello, Spitfire. It is good to see you.”
“Thanks, Chu,” Mitch said. “Good to see you, too.” The rest of the team stayed firm. A collection of poker faces, not ready to crack. “Hope everything’s going good for you guys.”
“It’s wonderful,” Dozer said, stone-faced. “All Twinkies and roses over here. Never been better.”
“C’mon, Doze, don’t be like that,” Mitch said.
“Not sure what you expected, Mitch,” Fuse said, remarkably calm and collected. “It’s been a challenging year for us. The game is gone. Everything’s been turned upside down. But we’re getting by—trying to find our feet. It’s just been a bit of an adjustment.”
“An adjustment?” Punch broke his silence, gesturing to Fuse with a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about expression. “An adjustment? Are you out of your mind? Do you call yanking a fish out of the water and chucking it into a volcano an adjustment? Or some dickhead walking in from nowhere, ripping the meal ticket from your hand, tearing it up into tiny little pieces, setting it on fire, and then tossing it out the window—is that an adjustment? Then, yeah, I feel like I’m adjusting. Fully, one-hundred-goddamned-percent, adjusted.”
Fuse stepped between Punch and Mitch, raising his arms to hold the two apart. “We’re all just a bit emotional right now.” As Punch recoiled, Fuse let his arms back down. “Don’t worry Mitch, he’s had a rough couple of months.”
“No, I haven’t,” Punch said, “and if this little meeting is Mac’s idea of a joke, then I’m not laughing. Skirmish is gone, dude. Boom, history, no more. And guess what? My life went right along with it. My sponsorships? All dried up. Turns out I have a stack of taxes I was supposed to pay that no one told me about. I’ve got no income, nothing coming in, but still, plenty going out. What am I supposed to do, log into the LevelGreen system like some kind of newb? Join some new teenage gamer group like a has-been? I’d rather delete myself.”
“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this,” Mitch said.
“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Punch said. “Talk about a kick to the virtual nut sack.”
Mitch knew this day would come. When he’d logged off after the Second Red Battle, he’d given himself a new lease on life—a real life. But with any action, there’s a reaction. With any path, there’s a wake you leave behind. And, sure, he could have done it better. He should have sat down with the team and said his goodbyes, tied up all the loose ends. But he hated goodbyes, maybe even more than the consequences, even when the consequences were breathing down the back of his neck.
He knew that the only chance at calming the situation was to fall on his sword. He swallowed at his dry throat and said the only words that came to mind. “If you came here for a fight, then I’ve got bad news for you: I’m not going to play that game. You can throw anything at me that you want. And, yeah, I deserve it. All of it. But I’m done fighting. You win.”
“We didn’t come here to see you, Mitch,” Dozer said. “We came to see Mac. To talk about what’s next, how to survive without Skirmish. Figure out what to do with the rest of our goddamned digital lives. Funny that we’d run into you when you’re walking out the door—but that’s your thing, right? Walking away?”
“Classic Mitch,” Punch said with an angry chuckle. “Leave when the going gets tough. Dude’s abandoned us, like, six times by now.”
“Twice,” Chu corrected. “Mitch has left twice.”
“Fine, twice,” Dozer said, turning back to Mitch. “You can act like you’re the innocent one here all you want. That world you deleted on your way out? We never wanted it to go away. So that’s on you.”
Mitch looked back over his shoulder—the door to Mac’s office closed tight behind him. The team was ready to walk back in that door, to talk about all the opportunities that the next phase of Karma Systems had to offer. He was headed in the other direction, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help. He knew Dozer was right—he owed them something. He was a leader, and a good leader knew that teams never walked in lockstep. A good leader knew that teams grow at different speeds and with different paths. A good leader is just there to make sure that everyone is getting better, every day. No matter what.
“Do me a favor,” Mitch said. “Forget about me. You’re pissed, I get it. But don’t dwell on it. Go in there, talk to Mac. Listen to him. Listen to what he has to say. It’s not going to be the same as it was before—it never will be—but you’re still the best team in all of Karma. You’re a team that did amazing things in Skirmish, and that will do amazing things again in whatever world or role or game you choose.”
The team stared back at him, their faces beginning to show signs of life.
“You’re right, Punch,” Mitch continued. “I run. I run away when the going gets tough, and that’s a shit thing to do. But there’s one good thing that comes from running—it means I know a thing or two about starting over. And what I’ve learned is that you don’t get many second chances. You’re lucky if you get one. So don’t screw it up. Make the most of it. With new challenges, you’re going to need to adapt. Make yourself better as you go. That’s what second chances can do for you.”
“I hate change,” Punch said. “Especially because I’m so awesome. Like, why would someone change when they’re so awesome, you know?”
“It’s a chance to up your game,” Mitch said. “Push yourself. No more sandbagging. No more coasting at the top. Remember how you became so good at Skirmish in the first place.”
“Fine,” Punch said. “I’ll try harder. But when I get to the top again, I’m totally coasting.” He kicked at the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets and muttered “I love coasting.”
“Dozer—you’re more than just brawn,” Mitch said. “You know that now. Destruction is great, but in these new games, you’ll need more than guns. The team needs leadership from all roles. You’ve got a good brain, time to start using it.”
Dozer nodded back.
“D
ata and analysis should continue to be a valuable asset, no matter what the situation,” Fuse said. “But I believe if I mix in some randomness, it could result in a potent strategy.”
Punch pointed over to Chu. “What about her?”
“I am fine,” Chu said. “I do not need to change anything.”
The rest of the team nodded in agreement, with whispers of “Yeah, I guess she’s right” filling the waiting room. The team filed past Mitch, and while there were no handshakes or hugs, at least there was a pleasant lack of obscenities as they exited. Mitch heard the whoosh of the sliding doors into Mac’s office but saw one team member lingering behind, stepping in close for a few last words.
“Mitch,” Fuse said, “if the things that Mac has told us already are true, these new worlds will be like nothing we’ve ever seen. Truly groundbreaking. They could change the nature of what Karma Systems is capable of. It would be crazy for you not to be a part of it.”
“I need some time,” Mitch said. “Time that I’ve been trying to find since I left the team in the first place. Some time to think.”
Fuse nodded, extending a hand. “Let me know when you find what you’re looking for.”
“You let me know what you find in there,” Mitch said, nodding his head towards the door. “If it’s anything worth doing—something important—let me know. You know where to find me.”
Fuse walked past him and into Mac’s office, the doors closing tight behind him. Mitch brought up his Karma System screen, his virtual finger hovering over the “LOG OFF” button. He pressed down, closing his eyes, and felt the VR world wash away all around him.
His eyes opened back to a ray of sunlight, his nostrils filled with the bite of fresh-brewed coffee mixed with the salty, crisp morning air of the California coast. He stretched out, peeling the VR rig’s helmet from his head, and rubbed his temples.
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