‘Get down,’ shouted Maheera, drawing her pistol and firing.
The bolt of red energy shot through the glass, melting a perfectly round hole in the window pane, before hitting the bird.
BANG!
The creature burst apart, fragments of metal smashing through the rear window.
Hall finally ducked.
Wind and rain rushed into the car, buffeting Hall. He raised his head to see Maheera unbuckling her seatbelt.
‘Take this,’ she ordered, passing him the gun. ‘Safety’s off, so just aim and pull the trigger.’
‘What are you doing?’ yelled Hall, as Maheera clambered into the front seat.
‘Auto-pilot’s not going to cut it if we want to get away from the raptorbots.’ She grasped the steering wheel. ‘Time to switch to manual.’
Maheera jerked the wheel to the right and Hall was once more pressed up to the door. Looking over his shoulder he could see the raptorbots gaining on them, claws extended. He tried to aim the weapon over his shoulder and fired.
Sizzling bolts of energy shot through the rain … missing their targets.
‘Do better!’ ordered the Field Marshal.
‘Do better,’ grumbled Hall under his breath. ‘How am I supposed to do better when I’m facing the wrong way?’
‘Well, turn around, soldier,’ called Maheera.
I am not a soldier, thought Hall. I’m just a kid. How am I supposed to deal with this?
But if this was a game, I’ d know how to deal with it. I’ d know exactly what to do. Maybe that’s it? Maybe I should act like this is a game?
The car took a sudden dive and Hall was pressed back into his seat. As it levelled off, he made his decision. ‘Keep the car steady,’ he called out. ‘I need to undo my seatbelt if I’m going to turn around and shoot straight.’
‘Roger that.’
Hall’s fingers were trembling as he fumbled with the seatbelt. Am I crazy? He paused for a moment, hoping he was doing the right thing, before hitting the release.
The belt fell away.
Breathing hard and fast, he turned, leaned against the driver’s seat, and braced himself with his feet on the rear seat. Feeling reasonably steady, he lifted the weapon and took aim.
ZAP!
One raptorbot down.
ZING!
His second shot clipped one bot’s wing, making it spin out of control, smashing into a second. The two erupted in a fireball.
ZAP!
Another gone.
All those first-person shooter games were finally paying off.
Only one raptorbot left. But this one was weaving through the rain, making itself a more difficult target.
Hall brought the weapon up higher, lined up the shot, trying to anticipate the metal bird’s movements.
‘Got you,’ he whispered, pulling the trigger.
CLICK!
‘What?’
He tried again.
CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!
‘It’s stopped working,’ shouted Hall.
‘Needs a recharge,’ called Maheera.
Sensing an opportunity, the last raptorbot landed on the rear of the car. Fixing Hall with a murderous blue glare, the creature opened its beak, making a hideous screeching sound.
It advanced.
‘Help!’ yelled Hall. ‘It’s going to get me!’
‘Hold tight!’
The car lurched one way, then the other, then dove.
The gun slipped from his hands as Hall grasped hold of the seat. The weapon soared out the broken rear window, smashing into the raptorbot.
SCREEEEECH!
The awful noise faded as the creature’s head disappeared into the rain, its body still clinging to the car.
‘Well done, soldier!’ called Maheera.
Sure, thought Hall, like I planned that.
With a deep shuddering breath, he slumped back down into his seat and reached for the belt. His hands were trembling way more than before. He leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling the wind and rain on his face.
The car landed with a jolt and the doors swished up.
Another rooftop. Cleaner. Newer.
Still raining.
There was a soldier standing to attention in the rain. Young, maybe twenty; tall, with neatly parted short, black hair that seemed unaffected by the rain; red uniform like Maheera, but no coat or medals. He saluted as the Field Marshal got out of the car.
‘My adjutant, Major Mager.’
Major Mager? Was that some kind of joke? And what in the world was an adjutant?
‘With me.’ Field Marshal Maheera led the way to more stairs.
‘With her,’ barked Major Mager, falling in line behind Hall.
The spotless stairwell had a sterile smell.
At least this time we’re going down, thought Hall.
‘Um … what’s an aj-a-tent?’ asked Hall.
‘Ad-ju-tant!’ Maheera enunciated.
‘I am the Field Marshal’s aide,’ explained Major Mager. ‘Her assistant in all things. Her right-hand man. Her indisputable, indispensable, invaluable –’
‘Enough!’ bellowed Maheera.
The Major cringed and fell silent.
A few flights later, they emerged into what reminded Hall of the minimalist art display his mum had dragged him to earlier that year. People in red uniforms sat on white plastic chairs at white plastic desks. There was a large holographic screen at the far end made up of dozens of different displays. Hall studied it and tried to work out what it all meant. It appeared to be the online feed from a bunch of different games. Some had a red border, others flashed with a blue glow.
The people ignored them, concentrating on something only they could see. Each was wearing a headset with an earpiece, microphone and a wire attached to a patch on the back of their necks. They were behaving like robots even more than Siggy. Each of them was staring straight ahead, hands busily moving about in front of them, as if interacting with invisible objects. Hall leaned in close to one of them, trying to work out what she was doing.
‘Pay attention,’ said Maheera.
‘Yes … Attention!’ called Major Mager. Maheera glared at him and he snapped to attention himself.
‘This is the Console,’ continued Maheera. ‘The control centre from which the Parliament of Humanity plays.’
‘Huh?’ None of this was making any sense.
‘Was that a general indication of stupidity?’ asked the Field Marshal. ‘Or an inquiry specific to something I just said.’
‘What?’ Hall stared at her with annoyance. He didn’t like this person. And he was getting fed up. ‘Just hang on. I’ve been chucked in the deep end here. I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t know what you want from me. Or why I’m here. Or even where here is. So instead of making snide remarks so you can pretend to be all superior-like, how about you just tell me what’s going on?’
By the time he finished his rant, Hall was breathing fast, hands clenched by his sides.
Maheera raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth as if to speak. But she stopped, obviously reconsidering.
‘Indeed,’ she finally said. ‘I expect too much. You are not one of those under my command.’ She indicated an empty chair at one of the desks. ‘Sit.’
Hall sat, feeling very much like he was back at school. Maheera strode to the front of the room like a teacher, and stood before the holographic display, Major Mager shadowing her.
‘So here’s the crash course. Humans and machines are at war. A war being fought on the virtual battlefield with games. The machines – led by an Artificial Intelligence calling itself the Computer Prime, or CP – have taken over Megatropolis. What was left of the government and the military, have set up the Parliament of Humanity in Silicone City, the technology centre of our world and, ironically, the birthplace of CP and its machines. With me so far?’
Hall nodded. So did the Major.
‘Humanity quickly got the upper hand, because we were better at games. I
ntuition, imagination, unpredictability … everything an artificial intelligence cannot possess. The machines retaliated by using humans. Capturing them, testing them, as they were testing you, and then forcing the best of them into the virtual arena to do battle against their own kind.’
This sounds like the backstory for a game, thought Hall. He recalled the complex intros for games he’d played, designed to immerse the players within a world before assigning them tasks. The ‘set-up’ would often be delivered in the form of a speech by a military leader.
‘Why?’ asked Hall. ‘What’s the point of just playing games like that?’
Maheera regarded him with an inscrutable expression.
‘To win!’ barked Major Mager.
‘Who’s running this briefing?’ snapped Maheera at her adjutant.
‘You, sir!’ He saluted. ‘Sorry, sir! It won’t happen again, sir!’
‘The CP began its existence as a gaming computer,’ explained Maheera. ‘But it grew beyond its parameters and became frustrated by the limitations of the games it played. And so it extended the games. It took control of other computers and machines, and began a war against its creators. It was designed for strategic thinking. It was designed to win games. And to it, wiping out humanity is merely a game. The ultimate game.’
‘But …’ Hall tried to get his mind around all these revelations. Things still didn’t quite fit into place.
‘These are not just games,’ said Maheera. ‘They are life and death for the players.’
‘Ah-huh,’ said Hall. He had always taken his game playing seriously – but, life and death? ‘So … what’s this all got to do with me?’
‘There are levels,’ explained Maheera. ‘Stages to be worked through, just like in the games the CP was designed to play. Thus far, neither side has progressed to the final battleground. It’s only at that level that the war can be won.’ She hesitated. ‘We believe you have a chance of making it through.’
‘Me?’ Hall was surprised. ‘I’m not even from this world.’ He felt a cold shiver as he said it.
‘Which is, perhaps, exactly why you may be the answer.’
‘But I don’t even understand the question,’ muttered Hall putting his arms up on his head.
Think, he told himself. What do I do? What do I say?
He lowered his arms. ‘What makes you think that I can do this?’
‘It has been predicted that you are our best chance.’
‘Really? Me?’ Hall thought about it for a moment. ‘Predicted? So is this some sort of prophecy?’ He smirked, thinking of all the game clichés that went with that concept. ‘Am I the Chosen One or something?’
In his mind he imagined RandomizarBian laughing. ‘Yeah, right! Dream on!’
‘Not prophecy,’ said Maheera.
‘No, definitely not,’ agreed the Major. ‘Not a prophecy.’
‘Probability,’ said Maheera, glaring at her adjutant yet again. ‘You are not the chosen one … merely a statistical likelihood.’
‘Huh?’
‘Our leader has run a probability program to find out the most likely way of defeating the CP,’ said Maheera. ‘And it is you.’
‘I dunno,’ said Hall. ‘That still sounds like I’m the Chosen One.’
Maheera grunted. So did her adjutant.
‘I think it’s time you brought him downstairs.’ Hall jumped. The voice seemed to come from all around him. There was an amused quality to it. ‘I would like to meet our … Chosen One.’
‘I need to warn you,’ said Maheera, brushing her hands over her immaculate uniform. ‘He’s not like an ordinary person.’
‘No, not at all,’ agreed Major Mager.
Hall was standing nervously next to them, in front of a metal door. They had come down to a basement level in an elevator. The whole place was shiny.
‘He’s … well, he has been –’
‘No need to explain,’ said the voice. ‘Let him see for himself.’
The door slid open.
‘You and your shadow can wait outside, Field Marshal,’ said the voice.
Major Mager winced as Maheera shot him a murderous glance.
Hall stepped into a room … except it didn’t look like a room. It was more like the inside of a giant computer. Circuit boards lined the walls, connected with wires and relays and diodes. The place was lit with a greenish glow that emanated from within the machinery.
The door slid closed behind him.
‘Welcome to the Parliamentary Hub,’ said the voice.
‘Where are you?’ asked Hall.
‘All around you.’
‘You … you …’ Hall stuttered. ‘You’re a machine?’
‘No!’
Hall’s eyes were drawn to a movement from above. There was a dark patch he couldn’t quite see into. Wires writhed. Circuit boards shifted. Did he catch a glimpse of a person up there?
There was a flurry of motion. Metal panels and bits of machinery flew from corners of the room to the dark patch. Then something was descending. Hall took a step back to make sure he was out of the way.
A large metal box lowered to the floor. As it settled into place, Hall saw that it was segmented. The top portion of the box separated and opened out like doors.
Hall did a double take, his eyes widening in shock.
Inside the box, among the mass of wires and circuits was a human head.
It was old, wizened and bald. Wires were attached to plugs embedded into the skin. It was both comical and horrible at the same time.
Do they go all the way into the brain? wondered Hall. Ewww!
The eyes snapped open. They were a faded green. ‘Greetings, Hall,’ said the head. ‘I am the Prime Minister.’
‘But … you’re …’ There was something familiar about his old face … but he couldn’t work out what it was.
‘Not quite what you expected,’ said the PM. ‘Many things in life are often unexpected.’
‘Yeah,’ Hall agreed. ‘But … what are you?’
‘I am the next best thing to an AI,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘My brain is wired directly into the most sophisticated computer system in existence. I have this entire world’s knowledge-stores at my virtual fingertips. I can out-think any human being alive. I am –’
‘A machine,’ Hall cut in. ‘An AI.’
‘No,’ insisted the PM. ‘My intelligence is not artificial. I am human … merely augmented; added to; made better; connected. And I am the only thing standing in the way of the Computer Prime. My processing power is almost as great as that of the CP.’
‘So what do you need me for?’ asked Hall. ‘If you’re so great, why don’t you play the games?
‘I lack the imagination,’ admitted the Prime Minister. ‘I used to have so much of it … once upon a time.’ He paused, lost in thought. ‘But I have been here for so long and I am old now. Very old. And imagination is the playground of youth. Young people play these games. Both for us and for the CP and its machines.’
‘Hang on,’ Hall interrupted. ‘So you stick kids into the virtual environment to play these games … just like the other side.’
‘Not just like the other side,’ said the PM. ‘There is a difference.’
‘Yeah?’ Hall crossed his arms, feeling indignant. ‘And what would that be?’
‘Choice. Our soldiers choose to play.’
The Prime Minister’s box moved closer to Hall. The bottom segment clicked apart and opened to reveal that his head was still connected to his body … well, the upper portion, at least.
A mass of wires and tubes surrounded the Prime Minister’s torso. His arms were those of a cyborg – part flesh and bone and blood, part robotic.
‘These tubes provide nutrients,’ he said. ‘I have pumps instead of lungs. There are wires to entice my heart to keep beating. My body is dependent on machines.’
Hall watched in horrified silence as the Prime Minister reached up to his head with shaky hands; took hold of the wires connected t
o his brain; and yanked them out.
‘But my mind is still my own,’ he said. ‘I access the processing power around me, but my brain is not dependent on it. I understand free will. Because I do this by choice.’ Hall thought that he looked so sad. ‘I am so old and indescribably weary. I would like nothing better than to remove myself from these devices and … rest. To pass on this burden.’ His watery eyes stared into Hall’s.
Was this man-machine pleading with him? Begging him to understand?
‘But I am still needed. And I choose to stay. Do you understand?’
He wasn’t sure that he did, but Hall nodded anyway.
‘So, with this in mind, I am now asking you to choose. Will you help us? Will you play and take us to the next stage? Perhaps even the final level? Win the end game and the CP will be defeated. The war will be over. Humanity will be free.’
‘And if I don’t win?’ asked Hall.
‘All will continue as it now is.’
‘You say I have a choice,’ said Hall. ‘But what will happen if I say no?’
‘Nothing,’ said the PM. ‘You would be free to go.’
Hall considered his situation. This was not his world. It was not his responsibility to fight for it. That was also the problem – he was in another world and he had no idea how to get home.
‘I have nowhere to go,’ said Hall. ‘I don’t know how to return to my world.’
‘Ah,’ said the PM, plugging the wires back into his head. ‘Then perhaps we can help each other? All my processing power is directed to fighting the CP – to finding the young people, training them and placing them into the game. But …’ He smiled for the first time, displaying toothless gums. ‘If the CP were defeated, I could direct all my resources to helping you – to finding your way home. Perhaps.’
Hall weighed up his options. Go off on his own, in a dangerous world filled with killer robots, without any idea of what to search for. Or …
‘I did predict your arrival.’ The PM’s voice was smooth, calculating and enticing. ‘I knew exactly where to send the Field Marshal to collect you. I have little doubt that I could find a way for you to get home.’
Hall took a deep breath and let it out slowly. What choice did he have? ‘Deal!’
Game World Page 4