End Code

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  A couple of Player-Characters walking past glance in my direction. When they see the design of my avatar, they try to open my social screen, but only receive a blank page in return. Most shrug their shoulders and continue on their way. I'm far from the only cowboy in DOTfun, especially since I've garnered some level of celebrity status among gamers. While I've generally shied away from the notoriety, now it's exactly that status that I'm hoping to cash in on.

  With a few gestures of my hand, I unlock my social screen, allowing every gamer that inquires to see my gaming stats. My criminal record. My true name.

  It's dangerous. Any DgS could also see my screen. I'm opening myself up to an attack, but right now, I need my name. I need my record. I need my legend.

  I scroll through my message list and select the camera option to record a video-cast. I press the SEND button and release the spam message to every gamer in DOTfun. Of course, it doesn't appear as spam. With a little help from the intelligences of the Digital-Characters, we managed to make the sender of the message appear to be a part of their friends list, though the name appears as: The Game Master.

  “Greetings, and thank you for taking the time to watch this video-cast,” I say calmly. “You all know my name. You all know who I am. And you all know what I've done. But not all of you believe in my motives. Not all of you believe the reasons I've risked my life, trapped myself inside of a game world, hacked my way into the Trash Bin, and attacked countless data-banks. But I'm here today, with an open account, no longer hiding from DOTgov or those that threaten to shut me down, for one simple reason...”

  I glance off camera at Cyren and she smiles back at me. “I'm here today to fight for those that DOTgov wants to delete without ever giving a chance to live. I'm here today to fight for the Digital-Characters that we've shared these sites, these domains... these worlds with. The DCs that we've taken for granted. The DCs that we've shot and killed and abused for years. I'm here to fight for the Digital-Characters that have only now been given a true intelligence. The DCs that finally have a voice that they can use to speak up and say: No more!”

  In a matter of seconds, I see the views on my social screen tick away from tens, to hundreds, to thousands. They're all making sure this is valid. They're all making sure this isn't a hoax. They're all making sure that I am who I say I am.

  “Imagine the game worlds that you spend so much of your lives inside without the Digital-Characters that populate them. Imagine your favorite RPG without the quest-givers, without the storekeeper, without the blacksmith. Imagine the military simulations without the soldiers to command. Imagine the racing simulations without the crowds to cheer you on. DOTgov wants to empty our worlds simply because they don't understand what is happening. They don't know how to control the intelligences that have been created, so they want to delete them. DOTgov wants to wipe these Digital-Characters from NextWorld before they're given a chance to live their lives.”

  “No way,” I hear from behind me.

  We all turn and see a young, muscular female avatar dressed in furs. Her eyes keep flashing between me, my social screen, and whatever menu she's frantically selecting options in.

  It doesn't take long for her to be joined by others. One-by-one they roll up, practically leaping from their still-moving vehicles as they rush toward me with a look of urgency in their eyes. They need to see if it's true. They need to see if I'm real. The courtyard fills as I continue to talk. Even more gamers wait outside in a queue that stretches out for seven blocks.

  “We're drawing a lot of attention to ourselves,” Cyren says. “You need to talk fast.”

  I select one of Fantom's hacks and raise the volume on my avatar's voice so that it thunders over the shouting of the crowd.

  “I was willing to lay down my life for them. I was willing to give everything so that they would have the opportunity to live. To grow. To reach their true potential. And I was joined by others who felt the same way. Gamers. Hackers. The Digital-Characters themselves.”

  I look down and then raise my head just enough to stare directly into the camera, speaking from a much darker place.

  “But one of these people has gone too far. Like DOTgov, he is reaching for the easy answer. Instead of working with DOTgov, he wants to destroy it. Instead of using his abilities to fix NextWorld, he wants to control it. He wants to threaten all of us by reaching past the limitations of this digital existence, hacking our nanomachines, and stopping our hearts in the real world. And he can do all of this with a single bullet... fired from a gun in NextWorld.”

  The Player-Characters look at each other, waiting for someone else to speak up, to tell them how to react. I see skepticism, but I also see intrigue. They may not believe what I'm saying, but like my best friend, like Xen, they can see that I believe what I'm saying.

  “This hacker wants nothing more than total domination. He will not stop killing until we all bow down to his wishes. He will not stop killing until we place him on the throne he thinks he deserves. He will not stop killing until NextWorld is his to do with as he pleases.” I clench both fists as I say, “ But we have a way to stop him.”

  I hold up the single disc, a flat circle that contains all the data for Fantom's patch to the NextWorld code. “This disc will cut off this hacker's ability to connect to your nanomachines. It will put an end to the constant monitoring by DOTgov. It will end their connection to our nanomachines. It will end their connection to our eyes, our ears... our bodies. It will protect the rights of Digital-Characters, putting them on an equal anonymity as the rest of us.” I raise my fist in the air and yell out, “NextWorld will belong to all of us!”

  The Player-Characters react the way that I expected. Some cheer, most likely those that have been directly affected by the things we want to change. Some roll their eyes and log-out, too jaded to think that anyone can change the status quo. Others debate my words with those around them. It becomes a mess of conversations, celebratory and dismissive. Some of these questions and comments are directed at me, shouted over the heads and conversations of the crowd.

  A pop-up screen appears in front of me and I see Fantom tapping away at her own screens, too busy to take the time to glance at the camera as she says, “DgS has been alerted to your existence in DOTfun, yo. I'm tryin' to reroute their tracers to a different game site, but you don't have long before they lock-on.”

  “Listen to me!” I yell over the tops of their heads. “I don't have the luxury of time. I wish I could discuss this with you further. I wish I had the time to sit down with each and everyone of you and convince you that what we're going to do will change NextWorld for the better. Because I can't do this alone... I need your help.”

  Most of the conversations stop, the attention of the crowd returning to me.

  “If we're going to fight back, then I need fighters. I need warriors. I need the men and women and boys and girls who have been training their whole lives in these very games.”

  With one hand, I pull the six-shooter from my holster and lift it into the air. With my other hand, I lift my battleaxe.

  “I need people who can shoot. I need people who can drive and fly and swing a sword. I need a digital army that knows how to fight in a virtual landscape. I will give you weapons. I will give you encrypted protection. I will give you hacked abilities that will feel like cheat codes. All I ask in return is for you to aim your weapons upward.” I point my gun and my battleaxe at the silver sphere of the DOTgov domain floating in the sky, its red light shining down on all other domains. “All I ask is that you aim your weapons at them.”

  01111101

  I don't know if the gamers that show up are there to fight for the cause. A lot of them might be there simply because it sounds like fun. Either way, as the word spreads to friends of friends of friends, hundreds of avatars line the streets of DOTfun, ready and waiting to launch an all-out attack against DOTgov. Knowing that the all-seeing eye must be taking note of our increased presence, we get everyone ready as quickly as w
e can.

  The Level Zeros help in handing out the protection software and denial of service weaponry. They ask each gamer what they're most proficient in, and equip them accordingly. The Player-Characters that play RPGs get swords and shields. The PCs that play shooters get guns and armor. The PCs that play racing and flying simulators get cars and planes mounted with denial of service guns.

  While our new army gets loaded with armaments, Fantom and Sektor get ready to launch a more stealthy approach from DOTnet. Fantom connects a video-cast to my account so that I can keep an eye on their whereabouts during the battle. It's one of many screens I keep open in front of me, trying my best to multitask my strategies.

  Fantom turns away from her own menu screen and faces the camera. “We're ready when you are, Cowboy.”

  I walk to the edge of the rooftop where I'm perched and take a deep breath, trying to keep myself centered. I look out over the streets of DOTfun, looking over the heads of all the avatars swarming below. I'm putting them all at risk. Every one of them could be arrested. Every one of them could be imprisoned. But I keep reminding myself, if we succeed, every one of them could be free.

  There's a fervor among the gamers, a twitchy anticipation for what's coming. They're anxious. Impatient. They want to start. They want to play. I reach out to activate the screen that's connected to every soldier, ready to send out an image-cast of the battle plan, when one of the planes launches into the air, the pilot screaming with an explosive frenzy, unable to contain his excitement.

  There's a cheering as the rest of the soldiers think the battle has begun. Jetpacks launch, wings spread, flying skateboards shred the sky, and I lose complete control of my army before the battle has even begun.

  I'm shouting into the video-cast, “Stay in formation!” but no one is listening to me.

  They're aiming directly for the sphere like a swarm of mosquitoes headed toward a light. They cluster in a tight group until they get near the sphere, then spread out at different angles, directionless and chaotic.

  The Level Zeros are the only ones that remain at my side, waiting for my command. We watch in horror as the defensive programming of the sphere activates, launching DOTgov Security officers like rockets into the air.

  The gamers don't flinch.

  Bullets cut through the sky, slashing through DgS like they're just another monster in another game. The planes barrel roll through walls of officers, dodging their grasp and dropping the wheeled vehicles they're carrying onto the surface of the sphere. Each car and truck and oddly-shaped carriage squeals its tires as it strikes the planetoid-sized domain, strafing the surface of the sphere, and with mounted denial of service weapons they mow down the rows of officers that are climbing out of the openings. Once the planes have released their cargo, they spin into the sky and join the air battle.

  “That could have gone worse,” Grael says.

  “They aren't soldiers,” Cyren says. “They're gamers. Let them play.”

  I nod and say, “Now it's our turn.”

  The Level Zeros follow me into the sky. No fancy rocket boots. No loudly spinning propeller blades. No plume of smoke behind us to draw attention to ourselves. Our avatars lift off the ground and float directly toward the burning red eye. Bullets skim past us as we approach. I hold my six-shooter out in front of me, firing a constant repetition of bullets straight ahead, breaking a hole through the officers in front of us. An officer appears to the right of us and launches himself at the group, one hand glowing red and one hand glowing blue. Cyren fires, striking him in the center of his chest and disintegrating his avatar.

  Grael points at another wave of officers launching from an opening on the surface. “We could try entering through their exit.”

  “It's a DgS spawn point,” Cyren says. “There's most likely no connection to the inner domain.”

  “Stick to the plan,” I say. “We keep them busy out here while Fantom and Sektor find Chang.”

  As our avatars drop onto the surface of the red eye, I glance at the multiple screens floating around me.

  I see Fantom and Sektor attacking a firewall deep inside the tubes of DOTnet, searching for their entry point. Anna-Log stands in the center, leading one of the groups. I can see a menu screen open in front of her as she analyzes the wall, looking for an opening to exploit. Another group activates programming scripts, defending Anna-Log and her team against incoming search protocols that might tip off DOTgov to their entry. Fantom stands tall, shouting out commands to all of them, leading the hackers with a blunt confidence.

  Another screen shows a race car screaming across the metallic surface of the domain, the machine guns mounted on the hood blasting through a huddled mass of officers. On the third I see a jet fighter banking to the right, dodging a flying officer and firing at another. The rest of the screens are a flashing display of gamers spraying unending streams of bullets from assault rifles and slashing their way through squads of officers with axes and swords.

  The Level Zeros circle around me, all of us standing back-to-back, creating an impenetrable wall of gunfire. We stand our ground as DgS try to teleport closer, hoping to reach in with red hands to lock down our Player-Character accounts, or blue hands to delete the Digital-Characters.

  But each one is met with a bullet.

  They don't stand a chance.

  “We're in,” Fantom says from her screen and I glance down to see the firewall opening in front of them. “We're going to lose the feed while we enter, but I'll try to reconnect once we find Chang.”

  I say, “Good luck,” before the screen blinks shut.

  “We're going to do this,” I think to myself as I keep firing at the DgS officers. “We're actually going to win.”

  But before I can revel in that single moment of relief, the sky above us wobbles and warps, opening wide and connecting a portal link between domains. I stop shooting and glance upward long enough to see the blue grid lines of the Trash Bin on the other side before a swarm of flying saucers fills the opening.

  01111110

  “InfoLock!” I yell, drawing the attention of the rest of the Level Zeros.

  They instantly break into a secondary formation, splitting our gunfire between the DgS officers and the silver discs spinning in the sky. Our aim is true, but the division of bullets slacken our offensive advantage. For a moment, a slight twinge of panic bubbles to the surface, but when I feel Cyren's armored back press against mine, reassuring me that she's still there, that she'll always be there, my confidence is renewed.

  I remind myself of who I am. A gamer. This is what I do. I point and I shoot, but I also strategize every shot. I've done this a million times. This is second nature to me. My brain clicks over from an emotion to logic. I calculate the distance of every enemy, placing them on a hit list from the biggest to the smallest threat and work my way down. Officers continue to drop as my bullets strike them. My denial of service attacks slow the flying saucers' bandwidth down to a crawl and they're no longer able to fight against the gravitational pull of the gigantic sphere. As each one is struck, it crashes into the surface of the sphere.

  When the Level Zero next to me notices my methodical take down of our enemies, he stops firing and rushes to my side. Past my tunnel vision, I see his avatar made of red bricks gesture in the air and open a menu screen. His tapping becomes a blur, his digital intelligence allowing him to code at super speed. Calculations spit from his mind, algorithms and command lines filling a blank screen until he swipes it shut and taps his finger against my pistol. My left hand grips onto an exact copy of the six-shooter that Fantom designed for me. My mind doesn't flinch. I raise the gun and fire it in between shots from the original, initiating a nonstop flow of attacks. Without a word, the Level Zero returns his attention to the battle.

  The sky is full of flames. Flying saucers explode all around me like a blazing firestorm, a dazzling display of flashing lights that could be hypnotic if it weren't so dangerous. Yet as each enemy is destroyed, more and more come
spinning out of the portal link.

  When the first Player-Character is struck by a beam of light from the belly of a flying saucer, it does more than lock down his account. The sight of a young boy's avatar being brought down strikes fear into the hearts of those that were here to play a game, not fight a war. I hear the command word “Log-out!” being yelled across the battlefield from more mouths than I can count. In less than a second, our numbers are cut in half. The DgS officers get closer, their increasing numbers breaking through our line little by little. The saucers spin from the link in increasing numbers. More and more gamers are being taken down. I look to my left, then to my right, and I see what's happening.

  “We're being surrounded,” I shout.

  Cyren glances to the sides and spots the same flanking maneuver that I see. She keeps firing, but I notice her glancing toward the portal link between DOTgov and the Trash Bin.

  “We need to close the link,” she says.

  I start trying to figure out a way to do that when I realize she's talking to the Level Zeros, not me. Cyren stays by my side, but the rest of them lift off from the ground, firing into the link, trying to bust through the incoming saucers. DgS officers chase after them, but they're no match for the ranged attacks. The Level Zeros are barely able to find an opening, but when both Cyren and I see a glimpse of the blue grid on the other side, she flashes a look into my eyes and I know what she's about to do. With a quick crouch, she extends her legs and propels herself into the opening like a rocket. She shoots through the opening before I can acknowledge her action. The rest of the Level Zeros funnel in behind her and within a few seconds the portal link slams shut, cutting off the connection between the domains. I swipe open a video-cast with Cyren and I see her and the Level Zeros battling with InfoLock on the blue grid of the Trash Bin. Half of them are firing their weapons, taking out the last of the saucers that were keeping the link open. The other half are trying to hack their way out of the Trash Bin through the endless levels of security. All the while, the wall of light approaches them, threatening to delete them forever.