Game World

by George Ivanoff

  ‘Who will I be playing against?’ he wondered out loud.

  ‘Your opponent will be Nguyen Thi Bian,’ said a familiar, disembodied voice.

  ‘Siggy? Is that you?’ called Hall.

  But there was no response.

  Nguyen Thi Bian? Bian. Could this be RandomizarBian’s real name?

  Making his decision, Hall stepped away from the weaponry. ‘I don’t need any of these,’ he said.

  The disc reappeared beside him and he stepped on.

  Everything went dark.

  Black.

  Where am I? thought Hall.

  Glowing green lines flickered into existence forming a grid. Above. Below. All around. Crisscrossing lines of luminescence.

  A bright spotlight hit him from above.

  Hall wondered if he had been put back into a virtual reality? I thought this game was going to be in the real world.

  He looked down and saw that he was himself. If this was a computer simulation, surely he’d appear as his avatar, HallsOfAwesome?

  Another spotlight cut through the darkness. There was someone standing at the opposite end of the grid. And that someone was decked out with weaponry.

  The figure strode across the grid. Hall couldn’t make out his features, as he was concealed behind the shield he carried. He had holstered pistols on each hip, a dagger strapped to each calf and a rocket-launcher slung over his shoulder. And he hefted a large, shiny sword.

  RandomizarBian?

  Even from a distance Hall could see that the figure, although taller than him, was shorter than his online nemesis. And not at all broad and bulky.

  The figure stalked across the grid with a confidence and assurance that made Hall feel inadequate.

  Reaching Hall, the figure stopped and slowly lowered the shield.

  Hall stared.

  It was a boy. Tall and thin, with sleek black hair that hung down over his left eye. Maybe a year or two older than him. He was dressed in the same way as Hall, except with blue fluoro instead of red.

  ‘I play online as RandomizarBian. But today I face you as myself – Nguyen Thi Bian.’

  The voice? It wasn’t a boy’s voice. Hall stared at his rival, the truth dawning.

  ‘You’re RandomizarBian?’ he said. ‘But … but you’re a …’

  ‘What?’ Bian’s voice was defiant.

  ‘You’re a girl.’

  ‘So what?’ said Bian. ‘I’m still gonna wipe the floor with you.’ She swung her sword in a figure of eight, then brought the tip up to Hall’s chest.

  ‘I’m unarmed,’ said Hall.

  ‘Makes it easier for me.’

  ‘No,’ pleaded Hall. ‘We shouldn’t fight.’

  ‘Winning is the only way I’m going to get home,’ said Bian through gritted teeth. She moved the sword forward a few millimetres, the point now touching Hall.

  ‘But we can’t fight,’ insisted Hall, wincing.

  ‘Give me one good reason why.’

  ‘Because I don’t think that’s the way to win the game.’ The thought had just occurred to Hall. But he knew he was right. He had to be.

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘Think about it,’ said Hall. ‘No one’s ever gotten to this level before. And how did we get here? By not killing each other. I won, but spared your life, and we both levelled up. Then you won but didn’t kill me, and we both levelled up again. This isn’t a combat game. None of them are.’

  Bian relaxed her arm, the sword moving back from Hall. ‘So what is it?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Hall. ‘A game about cooperation? Teamwork? Compassion, maybe?’

  Bian lowered the weapon. ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘We work together, I guess.’

  ‘And …’ prompted Bian.

  Hall racked his brains. And then he felt that little tug.

  ‘Have you had any weird sort of feelings about this place?’ asked Hall.

  Bian raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I’ve had this strange need to come here, ever since I saw the Palace of Light from a distance.’ Thoughts whirled through his mind and words tumbled from his mouth. ‘And … and when we were flying here, there was this tower in the centre. Did you see it? I wanted to go there – specifically. Like there’s something that I need to do in that place.’

  Hall realised that he was breathing hard and his palms were sweaty. He wanted to get moving. Straightaway. Now!

  Bian nodded. ‘You talk like a loon,’ she said. ‘But I get what you mean. I want to go there too.’

  ‘But I have no idea how to get out of this arena,’ said Hall.

  Bian held up her sword. ‘Hold this.’ She tossed it to him, hilt first. Hall fumbled, but managed to catch it without doing himself any damage.

  Bian unslung the rocket-launcher.

  Hall’s eyes widened. ‘Wait! What are you doing?’

  Crouching down, Bian clicked off the safety and planted the launcher between her feet, pointing it straight up. ‘You reckon we shouldn’t be fighting each other, right? Cool! I’ll go along with that. So maybe we should be fighting something else? Anyway … I feel the need to blow something up.’

  ‘But there’s nothing up there,’ protested Hall.

  WHOOSH!

  Bian dropped the launcher, as the rocket shot up into the air.

  ‘There’s nothing up there!’ Hall shouted again.

  KA-BLAM!

  The rocket detonated.

  The grid shattered.

  Not just the green lines of light. But the darkness in-between. It all splintered apart, like breaking glass.

  Hall and Bian ducked, covering their heads. But nothing hit them. The shards all melted away.

  A row of translucent soldiers now stood to attention behind Hall.

  A line of transparent robots, floating just above ground level, behind Bian.

  All within another domed chamber with those same glowing green walls.

  Hall straightened up, looking around and wondering what would happen next.

  ‘Heads up,’ called Bian, tossing him one of her pistols. ‘Now we’ve got something to fight.’

  Hall dropped the sword in order to catch the gun. ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘No!’ Bian scooped up the sword with her left hand as she took aim at the soldiers with her pistol. ‘I’ll take the glass grunts. You take the glass bots.’

  Hall’s hands were trembling as he raised the weapon. He was far from sure that this was the right thing to do. But Bian had trusted him when he’d asked her not to fight each other … so now it was time to trust her.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  The robots burst apart in a shower of crystalline shards.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  The soldiers erupted into pieces.

  Hall and Bian looked at each other in astonishment. ‘It wasn’t me,’ they both said together.

  ‘It was me,’ said Field Marshal Maheera, feet crunching over the debris of the soldiers as she stepped forward. She saluted, her uniform perfect, her medals glittering. ‘At your service.’

  ‘And me.’ Hall whipped around at the raspy sound of the electronic voice. A humanoid robot of gunmetal grey in a uniform of blue, stepped over the wreckage opposite Maheera. It was tall, broad with pistons and hydraulics visible through the uniform as it walked. ‘Brigadier General Zorin. By your command.’

  Hall pointed at Maheera. ‘She’s the head of the military for the humans here. She found me and has been sort of taking care of me.’

  ‘Sounds familiar.’ Bian indicated Zorin. ‘Metal military dude here has been my babysitter.’

  ‘We have been watching,’ said Maheera.

  ‘Following your progress,’ said Zorin.

  ‘And we agree,’ they snapped in unison, ‘that it is time for cooperation.’

  ‘You do?’ Hall was confused.

  ‘Yes,’ said Maheera. ‘The Prime Minister told you to trust your instincts. It i
s now time for me to trust your instincts as well.’

  ‘And I, yours,’ Zorin said to Bian.

  ‘Go to the tower,’ said Maheera, ‘and finish this.’

  ‘We will buy you time,’ said Zorin, ‘and watch your backs.’

  Around the perimeter of the chamber, alternating soldiers and robots, rose from the floor. They raised their transparent weapons and took aim.

  Hall eyes darted frantically from side to side. They were surrounded. And there was no way to escape.

  The antagonists, soldiers and robots alike, opened fire – bullets of glass and bolts of crystal zipping and singing around them.

  Maheera and Zorin responded in kind.

  ‘How do we get to the tower?’ shouted Bian over the gunfire.

  As if in response, a disc appeared on the floor before them. Glancing at each other, Hall and Bian leaped on.

  A wall of light whirled around them as the disc rose up, glass and crystal projectiles disintegrating as they hit it. Above them, a hole irised open at the apex of the dome.

  Up, up, up. The disc carried Hall and Bian through the opening into darkness.

  A cursor winked through the dark, text forming as if on a computer screen.

  LEVELLING UP!

  BONUS ROUND!

  END GAME!

  Black.

  Pinpoints of light spun disorientating in the darkness.

  ‘Hey,’ Hall called. ‘Bian, are you there?’

  ‘I’m right beside you,’ she hissed in response.

  ‘Sorry. I can’t see anything.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  Silence.

  ‘Um … what do we do?’ asked Hall.

  ‘No idea,’ said Bian.

  More silence.

  A little glowing ball of light sprang into life nearby, illuminating them.

  ‘The weapons and stupid outfits are gone,’ said Hall.

  The light floated off.

  ‘Should we follow it?’ asked Hall.

  ‘Got anything better to do?’

  ‘Um … no, not really.’

  ‘Do you know what a rhetorical question is?’ Bian headed off in pursuit of the light.

  Hall was glad that in the darkness, Bian couldn’t see him blush. He hurried to catch up with her.

  The light led them to a table with a stool on either end. There was a board game set up.

  ‘Snakes and ladders?’ asked Bian.

  ‘Are you being rhetorical again?’

  ‘Guess!’

  The stools lit up as first Bian and then Hall, sat.

  ‘Bags red!’ declared Hall.

  ‘What?’ snapped Bian.

  Hall pointed to the two pieces on the first square of the game – one red, the other blue. ‘Red’s my colour.’

  ‘Sure. Whatever.’ Bian sounded impatient. ‘You can even have the first move.’

  ‘No dice,’ said Hall, reaching for the red marker. ‘Maybe I can just –’

  The moment Hall touched the marker, he found himself standing in the middle of a featureless beige room. Square. There was a door at one end. Not knowing what else to do, he walked through.

  Another beige room. Square. This one had a ladder leading up to an opening in the ceiling, as well as another door at the opposite end.

  Oh, I get it, thought Hall. He walked up to the ladder and placed a hand up on a rung, ready to climb.

  ‘We’re in the game,’ bellowed Bian, running into the room.

  ‘Well … duh!’

  ‘Yeah, well, think about it,’ said Bian. ‘If there are ladders, then there are gonna be …’

  ‘Snakes!’ finished Hall. He stepped back from the ladder. ‘You want to go first?’

  Bian grunted and pushed past Hall, ascending the ladder. Hall followed. It took them through four rooms, until it ended in a fifth with a door on either side.

  ‘Which way?’ asked Bian.

  Hall counted off the levels in his head. ‘Left.’

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Bian.

  ‘We started on the first row,’ explained Hall. ‘We then climbed through four rooms before reaching this one … so we’re on the sixth row. Alternating right and left on each row, means we go left on the sixth row.’

  They walked through the door. This room had a door, a set of steps at the far end and a hole in the centre.

  ‘That’s the way up to the next level,’ said Hall, making for the steps.

  ‘Watch out!’ called Bian.

  But it was too late. A massive snake reared its head up out of the hole and lunged for him. Hall tried to dodge, but the snake was too fast. Jaws springing open to an impossible size, it swallowed them.

  ‘AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  ‘You can stop screaming now,’ said Bian.

  Hall opened his eyes. They were in another beige room, door on either side, hole in the ceiling above them.

  ‘We just appeared here when the snake swallowed us,’ explained Bian.

  Hall sighed, relieved that he hadn’t actually been eaten by the snake. ‘How many levels did we come down?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘So we don’t know which way we need to go.’ Hall slumped to the floor. ‘We could be trapped here forever.’

  Bian sat down next to him. ‘I reckon we should stop playing,’ she said. At Hall’s puzzled look, she explained. ‘Someone has to be controlling all of this. And if they keep putting us into games, they must want us to play. So, we should refuse to play.’

  ‘So we just sit here?’

  ‘Yep.’

  As they sat and waited, Hall thought through everything that had happened. ‘I wonder?’ he whispered. ‘Are we still inside a virtual world? I mean, that last level was meant to be in the physical world. And I don’t remember a patch being put on. But …’ He paused. ‘But maybe …’

  ‘What difference does it make?’ asked Bian.

  ‘This.’ A cheese and vegemite sandwich appeared in his hand. ‘I haven’t eaten in ages. I should be hungry. But I’m not.’

  He turned the sandwich over in his hands, then tossed it over his shoulder.

  ‘Hey!’ exclaimed Bian. ‘You could have given it to me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hall felt embarrassed. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t think.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Bian, chocolate cupcake in hand. ‘If this is all virtual, we can influence things.’ She tossed her food away as well. ‘I’m not hungry either.’

  ‘Weird,’ said Hall.

  ‘We could probably do anything,’ said Bian slowly.

  ‘So … what will we do?’

  ‘What won’t we do?’

  Bian was grinning. She threw a fireball at the back wall, blasting a hole in it.

  They ran out into the darkness.

  ‘Let there be light,’ yelled Hall, throwing his arms up.

  A sun blazed down from above, illuminating the nothingness around them.

  ‘Grass,’ said Hall.

  ‘Flowers and trees,’ added Bian. ‘Blue sky and little fluffy white clouds.’

  They stood in a field, trees in the distance, the sweet smell of flowers in the air. The wind whipped through their hair and Hall felt an exhilaration quite unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

  They grinned at each other.

  ‘This. Is. Awesome!’ said Hall, realising that he could do anything … anything at all.

  ‘I wonder how far we can take this?’ said Bian. ‘If there are any limits?’

  ‘Let’s try it out,’ said Hall, as a concert orchestra played dramatic music among the flowers.

  Their imaginations exploded.

  They played tag on the backs of dragons and swam through stardust.

  They chased rainbows and played hide-and-seek among the planets.

  They bounced on clouds and slid down sunbeams.

  Until …

  They stopped.

  Something niggled at the back of Hall’s mind. Didn’t he have to do something? Win something? He had a vague memory abou
t a war.

  ‘How long have we been here?’ asked Hall.

  ‘I dunno,’ said Bian. ‘Minutes or years? Hours or centuries? Who cares?’

  They were standing in a meadow of daisies.

  ‘Do you remember home?’ asked Hall. ‘Your family?’

  ‘Sure.’ She didn’t sound certain to Hall.

  ‘Tell me about them,’ he said.

  ‘Well … I live in a house … in a suburb,’ began Bian. ‘With my parents. And my sisters. And …’

  ‘Yeah, but what’s your house like?’ demanded Hall. ‘What’s your address? How old are your parents? What are your sisters’ names? What’s your full name?’

  Bian didn’t answer.

  ‘I don’t remember any details either,’ said Hall. ‘I know I live in a house, but I can’t picture it. I know I have a mum and dad, but I don’t know their names. I don’t even know if I’ve got brothers or sisters.’

  ‘My older sister is Mai,’ cried Bian.

  ‘I’m Hall Gatwick, no middle name.’ He suddenly felt a tug within him.

  ‘My full name is Nguyen Thi Bian. My parents are from Vietnam. That’s why my family name comes first. Then my middle name. Then my given name.’

  ‘My address is 42 Shada Street, Adams-town.’ Another stronger tug. A desire to go home.

  Slowly they began to reclaim their memories.

  The flowers wilted.

  The grass dried.

  The clouds evaporated.

  The sky darkened.

  The sun extinguished.

  Black.

  Hall’s mind wandered. Have we won the End Game? Is humanity safe? What am I supposed to do now?

  ‘How long have we been here?’ asked Bian, her voice reaching Hall through the darkness. He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see anything.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he answered. ‘What matters is that we get out.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Think about everything we’ve done in here,’ said Hall. ‘All the things we’ve imagined and created. If we can make illusions …’

  ‘Maybe we can unmake them?’ Hall could hear the growing realisation in Bian’s voice. ‘We could peel away the illusion that’s keeping us here?’

  ‘Like a grape,’ said Hall triumphantly.

  ‘That,’ said Bian, ‘is a really dumb analogy.’