Gauntlet

by Holly Jennings

  I figured he was saying that as a means to comfort me, but something about that made me want to shudder. Artificial intelligence was nothing new, but the idea that the only safety net between me and the virtual world was another artificial construct just didn’t sit right with me. And all that aside, I was a little disappointed. With all the hype surrounding this house, I had been expecting so much more. No programmers. Artificial intelligence. What was the big deal about that?

  “Is this the big secret?” I asked, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.

  Tamachi smiled. “No. You’ll be able to see once you plug in and play a round of our game.”

  “You want us to plug in,” I repeated. “Now?”

  He nodded.

  He had suits for all of us, perfectly sized. I probably would have thought it was a touch creepy if I weren’t so excited. We changed in private. The house had plenty of rooms.

  Just as I was climbing into the pod, I caught Rooke’s gaze. He stared back with no emotion. At least, to the untrained eye. But I’d become a bit of an expert on all things Rooke since we’d been together and could pick up on the subtleties of his true feelings. His bottom lip twitched, and his hands gripped the edge of the pod just a little too tightly. There were always hints about what he was really feeling, and right now, we were both thinking the same thing.

  What are we getting ourselves into?

  I nodded at him. See you on the other side.

  I lay back as the doors closed around me. Cords crawled over my skin, attaching to the pod suit and the bare skin around my wrists and face. So far, nothing was different from the standard pods back home. Same shiny exterior. Same darkened interior. Kind of like, well . . . me. In front of Tamachi and the team, I’d kept my game face on. But now with the pod doors closed, I let my smile slide and my jaw go slack, and gave in to the uncertainty I felt on the inside.

  What was I doing? I was in some strange man’s house, plugging into a virtual world that we had no knowledge of or experience in. I’d dragged myself into this. I’d dragged my team into this. And why? Because of some cheesy segments on the gossip channel? This game, these pods, could be anything.

  Anything.

  But the situation brimmed with possibility, too, didn’t it? If the pods were really anything bad, would gamers from around the world be flying in just to try them? I pushed my thoughts aside and smiled. I was probably overreacting. Besides, if it was something bad, then there was nothing I liked more than a good challenge.

  I settled back against the pod as the last of the cords attached to my jaw and temples and waited for the ride.

  • • •

  Loading into a game isn’t as bizarre as it sounds.

  Your vision goes black at first, then flickers, like a loading screen. The pins in the cords stimulate your nerves, making you feel, taste, and smell everything. Code becomes sensory detail.

  I stood in a small room with metal walls a shade halfway between beige and gray. Empty shelves lined three of the four walls. On the fourth wall was an oversized map. Must be the map of the game. A doorway stood to the left of it. The emptiness shimmered with an opalescent grid. A force field. We were trapped in here until the game began.

  A clear visor covered my eyes, so just a hint of the edges filled my vision. A map blinked in the bottom left corner, same as the screen on the wall, except mine was blinking with five gray dots all clustered together—representations of me and the team. YOU ARE HERE, in virtual space.

  I looked down at myself. I wore a dark gray jacket cinched closed at the waist. The edges of the front flaps were embroidered. I thumbed at the stitching, the bumps and valleys flowing under my fingers. A chill whispered up my spine and turned my skin to goose bumps. Hidden within the swirling details were a handful of Chinese characters.

  Harmony. Balance. Nature. Peace.

  If I had to pick four principles I lived by, or at least attempted in my better moments, those would have been it, and now they were embroidered on this jacket. But I hadn’t chosen this jacket. The game had for me. I closed my eyes and took a breath. Hello, artificial intelligence. Nice to meet you.

  When I turned around to find my teammates, my mouth fell open. They were all dressed similarly, in dark gray with clear visors covering their eyes. But all were outfitted in custom gear matching their personalities and tastes. Looks like we didn’t need to choose our image in this game. The pods took your deepest secrets and desires and put them on display for all to see.

  Pink and purple chunks streaked through Lily’s blond hair, which had double the volume and edginess it did in the real world. Purple lipstick emphasized her pouty lips. She wore leather armor with only glimpses of skin showing. A hint of shoulder here. A sliver of torso there. But, for the most part, highly practical for fighting.

  Hannah, on the other hand, looked like . . . well, Hannah. Skintight armor over everything that had to be covered and bare-skinned everywhere else. Her strawberry blonde hair was tinted nearly platinum white. Coupled with makeup in all shades of pink, her coloring made her look like a futuristic nymph. Opera-length black leather gloves stretched nearly to her shoulders. Tight pants spread from hip bone to feet, ending in a pair of high, platform boots.

  She winked at me. “You look hot, too.”

  I laughed.

  Both Hannah’s voice and my own echoed back in my ear. I reached up and followed a line from my ear to the corner of my mouth. We had mics. Nice.

  “This is all we do?” Rooke asked. “Stand here?”

  Like Lily, Rooke’s floor-length jacket and fitted clothing covered him nearly head to toe. A hood pulled low over his eyes turned his already chiseled face into nothing but shadows, edges, and angles.

  It did nothing for me. Just saying.

  Though if this was a contest in nonchalant coolness, Derek would have taken the trophy, the money, and the whole damn stage. The upper half of his body was covered in a thin sheath of armor, almost like a second skin that covered his arms and chest, and stretched up the sides of his neck. A half-zipped jacket sat on top of the armor, giving him an edge that said “I’m cool and composed.” Oh this? Just threw something together. Combine it all with heavy boots, fitted pants, and the faint glow of his visor, and he looked like a futuristic assassin.

  All around us, the room buzzed. On three out of four walls, shelves appeared, all containing an assortment of weapons. Directly in my line of sight was a three-and-a-half-foot Dao sword. In traditional gamer-gear fashion, it swirled and arched with excessive details, all curves and glimmer. A matching dagger sat beside it.

  Wow. Kali likes.

  “Hello, gorgeous.”

  When I picked up the sword, the movement produced a smoky streak of color off the blade’s edge, dark gray for Team Defiance. Nice touch. I twirled the blade a few times, slicing it through the air. Gray smoke trailed behind my movements, like the ribbons of flames left from a fire spinner.

  I grinned.

  “This one is mine.”

  As soon as I said those words, a strap unfurled across my chest, wrapped around to my back, and formed a sheath running from shoulder to hip. I touched the sword to my back, and the sheath wrapped around the sword, gripping it like claws. When I tugged on the sword again, the leather bands retracted instantly. I picked up the matching dagger, and another sheath materialized, this time on my outer thigh.

  Lily selected a pair of small axes. Straps formed around her legs to sheathe her weapons. As each of my teammates chose their weaponry, their outfits morphed to match, forming straps and sheaths as necessary. Okay, I had to admit. That was impressive.

  The screen next to the room’s door buzzed with white noise for a second, then made a sound like a comm was clicking in. A female voice filled the room.

  “Welcome, Team Defiance.”

  The screen flickered a few times. The map of the a
rena looked more structured and grid-like compared to the natural settings we usually battled in. Buildings lined every block, creating tight roads and even tighter alleys as passageways through the game.

  “The game mode is capture the flag,” the voice said. “A flag will spawn in front of your opponent’s base to the north . . .” A blue dot appeared at the northern edge of the map, marking the enemy’s base. “. . . And another in front of your base to the south.” Another dot appeared in the corresponding spot. I glanced out the force field beside the map, and a flag appeared approximately ten feet away. It glowed in a bluish white and glitched a few times, code running through it.

  “Your objective is to capture your opponent’s flag and return to your base before they retrieve yours.” The screen showed a mock demonstration of a player running through the flag. As they did, they were consumed with a faint bluish glow. So that’s how we’d identify the flag carrier. Meaning, that would be the one to take out. And as a trial run, that meant we’d be playing against the computer. Computerized opponents were the norm in virtual practices. “You cannot score while both flags are in play. If your enemy has your flag, you must retrieve it.”

  “Standard capture the flag,” Derek said, and lowered his voice. “Is this really supposed to be unique?”

  We all traded glances with each other. Capture the flag in gaming was older than the competitions themselves. Really, what was the fuss about this technology?

  On the screen, a thirty-second countdown appeared over the map.

  “The girls and I will go for the flag,” I announced. I glanced back at the guys. “You good for guarding ours?”

  They nodded.

  Good. I wanted to see this place.

  The countdown neared its finale.

  3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

  The doorway fizzled, and the shield dropped. I bolted out of the base and into the street. The rain hit me first, a soft, hazy mist that dampened my hair until it clung to my cheeks. The streets, the buildings, the entire backdrop of this world was a shade of gray, punctuated by neon lights outlining nearly every sign and window. Their carnival colors smeared in the haze, like melting cotton candy. Kanji symbols slid down buildings, also flashing in neon. Red lanterns were strung from rooftop to rooftop like pearl necklaces against the black neck of the open sky above.

  As our footsteps pounded the pavement, a strange feeling crawled along the base of my hairline, and my breath went sharp. It was too quiet here. No cars. No people. No sound whatsoever. Just our footsteps, our huffing breaths, and the weight of the air pressing around us, so clear, yet so thick, it felt like it had a presence. And it was watching.

  As we reached the northern end of the map and rounded a corner, the flag came into view. Two opponents flanked the flag. That meant three had gone for our base. Here’s hoping the boys could handle themselves.

  “Who’s getting the flag?” Hannah asked, not breaking her stride.

  I exchanged glances with Lily.

  “You get it,” I told Hannah. “We’ll take the guards.”

  She fell back several steps, allowing Lily and me to take the lead so we could clear the path for her. I drew the sword from my back. Lily drew her axes.

  I glanced at Lily. “You take the left, I’ve got the right.”

  She nodded.

  We closed in.

  I lunged for my opponent, kicking out with both feet and slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. I followed him down in a rolling fall and threaded my sword between his third and fourth ribs. He gasped, clawing at my face for a second, before his arms dropped, and his head rolled to the side.

  Hannah slid through the flag and powered up. A horn rang out overhead. She became like the weapons, kiting a trail of white-blue smoke behind her.

  Lily’s attacker sliced through her neck and knocked her to the ground. Blood pooled around her, and her body contorted and rocked as it curled in on itself, and she gasped her last breath.

  “Lily’s out,” I said into the mic.

  Hannah took off down the street. Lily’s attacker pursued Hannah, trailing fifteen feet behind her. Damn it. I sheathed my sword and raced after them. Corner after corner, I trailed behind, pumping my legs, cutting through alleyways. It was useless. I wasn’t gaining on them. Every time I closed in, got faster, gained an inch, my opponent ran faster. Like it knew. Like it was toying with me.

  Toy with this, pal.

  I drew my dagger from the sheath around my thigh and whipped it like a dart. It tomahawked through the air and nailed Hannah’s pursuer in the spine. His constant footsteps became a broken, tumbling dance as he lost his footing and crashed into the street, his face smearing along the pavement. Then he slid to a stop and didn’t move again.

  I scooped up my dagger as I darted past the body, swiping it clean from his back without missing a beat. Hannah continued her race through the streets. I tailed her, guarding from behind.

  “We’ve got two closing in on the base,” Derek informed me through the mic. “About to engage.”

  Two?

  Two with the guys and two at the enemy’s base made four. Where was the fifth?

  A soft whooshing noise pulled my gaze up to the rooftops beside us. Another opponent cut through the wind, jumping between the gaps of the buildings.

  Ah, there he is.

  Wait a minute. The rooftops. Shit, the rooftops were as accessible as the streets. That introduced a whole new component. The RAGE tournaments were mostly fought on the ground, with few opportunities to attack from above. But here, buildings lined nearly every inch of the streets. Just like that, fights became 360 degrees.

  He leapt from the rooftop, landed behind Hannah, and joined the chase.

  “Look out,” I shouted, forgetting I had the mic.

  Hannah rolled, barely avoiding his blow as his sword cut through the air above her. Hannah scrambled to her feet and shot down the street. Her latest assailant stayed right on top of her. I whipped my dagger through the air, this time aiming straight for his head. Just before it sliced through his skull, he turned around and caught the blade. Bare-handed. I slammed on the brakes and stumbled to a halt.

  He just caught the blade.

  He knew. He knew I was going to throw my dagger and was ready for me. The air closed in around me, pressing down my throat, cutting off the passageway to my lungs. What the hell was going on here? First, Hannah’s pursuer outran me at every turn, and now this one had anticipated my attacks.

  The game was learning.

  I really was being watched.

  He charged for me with my dagger gripped in his hand. Panic seized my chest. I grappled for my sword across my back, but the hilt slipped across my hands. Shit, shit, shit.

  He closed in.

  I brought up my fists, preparing for his attack. He dodged my block with ease and ripped my own dagger across my gut. Blood spilled out, instantly soaking my lower half. The pain bowed my knees and back, and continued up my body until I even felt it in my teeth. I collapsed to the ground. My hands moved on their own, grasping at the gaping wound, as if somehow, if I could put the pieces back where they belonged, it would heal together again. Then my fingers went cold, my arms went limp, and my soul retreated to the center of my body.

  Well, death felt the same in this game as any other.

  My attacker’s footsteps faded down the street as he chased after Hannah. She had enough of a head start to beat him to the punch.

  I lay in the middle of the street, waiting to bleed out, soaking in the hazy rain and the kaleidoscope of the neon signs. Above me, the lanterns rocked on their strings, looking like kites trapped in an endless glitch, a loop stuck on repeat. The buildings loomed overhead in their dreary gray tones, their walls perfectly sleek, as if made of metal. The bluish tinge of the streetlights glossed the entire setting like a cyanotype filter.

&nbs
p; The air pressed down on me, enveloping me in a bubble of absolute silence. I was alone here. Completely alone. Crippled, bleeding out, unable to move, consciousness barely clinging to my slowing heart. There was nothing else. No one. Just me, and the game. Like the angel of death, it sat there with me. Hovering. Waiting. Holding my hand until the last bit of me vanished.

  I shuddered. At least, my soul did.

  A horn rang out overhead. The end of the game. Looks like Hannah had scored.

  I felt the jolt. My body jerked and my vision went black. I closed my eyes and kept them shut, listening. It was dead silent. A kind of silence that only comes from sensory deprivation. I opened my eyes. The shadowy interior of my pod wrapped around me, swaddling me in its emptiness. Strangely enough, I felt almost as empty on the inside. This technology was supposed to be revolutionary. Yes, the opponent guided by artificial intelligence meant they’d learn faster and present better challenges than the programmers ever could. And it was nice to play a new game mode with the team. But, other than that, what was the big deal?

  When we exited the pods, Tamachi was waiting for us.

  “So,” he began. “What did you think?”

  I exchanged looks with my teammates.

  “I don’t think the VGL has a game that combines capture the flag with hand-to-hand combat and short-range weapons,” Derek said. “And the Japanese cyberpunk feel is pretty cool.”

  “It looks incredible,” Hannah added, and everyone nodded. Then they all turned to me. I faltered. It was a cool game, and the visuals were stunning, but there wasn’t much more to it than that.

  “It’s interesting, sure,” I began. “But . . .”

  Tamachi smiled and nodded, like he’d been expecting my answer. “It’s not worth all this fuss, is it?”

  “Frankly, no.” I crossed my arms.

  He circled my pod to the rear and motioned me to follow. “Let me show you something.”

  I walked up beside him. He tilted the screen my way. It listed several of the standard statistics, including blood pressure, pulse, an EEG report, and brain-imaging scans.