Gamer 1 - Skotopia: A Gamelit novel for science fiction action fans

by Rodzil LaBraun

  One of the robed guys stepped up to the ledge from where I had just jumped. In the dim light of this created environment, it took him a moment to find me. In that amount of time, I attempted to scurry away from trouble with my limited capacity.

  If I could find a place to hide, perhaps the lock on my arm would release. In virtual games of my past injuries were often temporary. If I regained the use of that arm maybe I could have a fighting chance at surviving this nightmare long enough to avoid being a source of embarrassment to my parents. The stake had miraculously disappeared from my leg already, along with any blood, but it was still unusable. I hoped that it also could reactivate.

  Then I got shot again. I was incredibly lucky that they hit the already injured leg. After a brief surge of agony, I continued to crawl in the same pathetic state. No worse.

  A tiny ravine laid before me and I propelled my body into it using all the strength that I had. Unless my attackers come looking for me, I might be safe for a while. Catch my breath, figure out what to do next, possibly find something to use for a weapon. If the stake that penetrated my leg hadn't disappeared, I could have repurposed it. But that would only be for close combat, and probably not that effective anyway.

  Then I saw the second building constructed from the same dirty stone blocks. It wasn't far away, maybe thirty meters. I could crawl there even if I didn't regain the use of my afflicted limbs. The building was two levels high and at least twice as wide as the first structure. It was illuminated from inside, possibly by more fireplaces. In one of the windows, I then spotted a human form stepping into view. A woman based on the long hair and shiny breastplate armor that bulged forward.

  She had green hair and a very athletic build. In her right hand was bulky rifle. In her left was a simple sword. It was likely the one that had been removed from the first building. This was one of my teammates, probably Rhese, but I didn't know for sure. Would she help me? She darn well should!

  I watched as she raised the sword into the air in my direction. Not threateningly. She was offering it to me. I nodded eagerly and stretched out my good hand, then watched in aggravation as she let it slip from her fingers and drop to the ground just outside the building.

  She could have thrown it to me. At least halfway. Or better yet, come get me. Help me! She looked to be in perfect condition. Muscular like me but uninjured. This mission was probably not even a challenge for her, with her experience and ranked up weapons. She dropped it just to make things harder for me.

  Well, at least it was a weapon. I doubted that I'd be effective in its use, but it would be a gallant effort if I not only retrieved but used it on an opponent. Give my father and friends a reason to defend me when others laughed at my performance. That was all that mattered to me at this point.

  As I began crawling ineffectively toward the discarded weapon, I noticed that the woman remained in the window to watch me. Didn't she have more important things to do? Like complete the objective of this game and claim a victory? Apparently, not. She even called over another teammate to watch me struggle as I pushed and clawed away at the dirt with only one working hand and foot.

  "Yeah, little boy," the condescending voice yelled to me. "You can do it!"

  The second member of our team was also a female. Her hair was purple and slightly shorter. Instead of muscular like me and the sword dropper, her body was sleek and slender. I imagined that she was fast and agile in the game because of it. She was probably the great Zaya. Instead of taunting me she just shook her head disapprovingly. She also had a rifle. But what was in her other hand is what caught my attention.

  It was the flaming bird artifact. They had already retrieved it. All they had to do now was make it back to the entry point for extraction to win the game. Instead, the green haired woman took time to make my game experience worse for her own enjoyment.

  Actually, she might have the viewers in mind as well. But what kind of teammate would make their new recruit a source of humiliation?

  Purple haired girl had left the window by the time I reached the sword. But the laughter of the first woman made me quite aware that she had remained.

  Mustering all the pride that I had, I grabbed the hilt of the sword and shoved the dull tip into the ground. Using it like a crutch I managed to lift myself up onto both feet. Just as I did, I felt the distinct change in my left arm signifying that it was no longer damaged. I raised it up and wiggled my fingers just to confirm.

  Feeling much better about myself and my situation, I took a deep breath and looked up at the second-floor window again. The athletic female avatar was still there watching me. I was happy to see her return my smile. And a bit surprised that I was able to transmit that expression into the game. Maybe she wouldn't consider me such a burden to the squad after all. I had heard that plenty of rookies didn't last more than two minutes in their first game. It was hard for me to judge how much time had passed with all the action, but I figured it had to be more than five minutes. Maybe ten. I was doing pretty well after all.

  I then heard the other girl, Zaya, urging this one to go with her. They were undoubtedly going for the extraction to complete the level. It was possible that I might be able to join them. With their help I could be the first newbie in a long time to survive his first game. I imagined the pride on my dad's face as he cheered during the closing soundtrack of the video stream. I had memorized every note of our team song and hummed it regularly throughout the day when permitted.

  This was going to be the proudest moment in my life.

  The woman above me turned to leave, but hesitated. Directing her attention to me once again she leaned forward. What was she going to say? Good job? I'll come get you? Let's get out of here? Or maybe something more like a catch phrase. I was eagerly awaiting her words. They would be something that I'd remember for the rest of my life. Hundreds of viewers, if not thousands, would remember this instance in time and associate it with the start of my career as a Skotopian Gamer.

  Instead, she pointed her rifle at my chest and pulled the trigger.

  The pain was short-lived compared to the shock, but then came the darkness. It seemed to last for an eternity, though it may have been less than a minute in reality. I started breathing heavy in a panic.

  I clearly wasn’t in the game anymore. Why wasn’t I waking up and getting detached from the gaming computer? What went wrong?

  Did I die for real because I was shot by a despicable teammate?

  Chapter Three

  When the lights finally came on, I recognized the strange apparatus enclosing my head like an old medical scanner. I was back in the hook-up room. No longer in the game, just as I surmised. I couldn't raise my head to see my body until the Skotopian crew detached me, but I knew that it was my real one. No longer the buff form that the game administrators had selected for me.

  My avatar died, so I was ejected.

  I waited patiently as strips with dozens of wires were removed from nearly every part of my body. Even my crotch. That was why the pain of falling on the pipe was so intense.

  The first thing that I did when I sat up was check my left arm and right leg. It didn't make sense to be worried about them, of course. But it was hard for my brain to fully grasp the fact that none of what I had experienced in the game was real. Everything looked fine, of course. Not near as muscular as my avatar, though.

  The next thing that I did was glance over at the other beds. They were empty when I first arrived before the game started. New players always had a longer prep time before the game crew was comfortable with forcing the alternate reality on our brains. The three experienced team members arrived later and apparently were all still alive in the game because they weren't awake like me.

  Their bodies rested calmly on their beds except for an occasional twitch. The one closest to me was female. I could see that clearly though portions of our bodies were covered with specifically designed clothing to give us a measure of privacy while gaming. I wondered if she was the one that shot m
e. I was tempted to punch her in the foot as I was escorted from the room.

  Before exiting I noticed that the second bed also held a dormant female. I might have been directing my anger at the wrong person. Then, to my surprise, so was the last occupant. All girls! I was the only boy on the team. I hadn't replaced Memphis like I had assumed after all. I had taken Dashell's spot on the team.

  Had he graduated? No, not possible. He was still a year and several months from turning twenty-two years old. And he was nowhere near the highest level that a player could reach. That was ten, and he was only a four. I heard that some viewers considered him a disappointment, but not to the extent that he would be rejected from the program.

  There was only one place to go if you didn't graduate from the games. Down. To the planet. To the miserable existence on Athlios to work hard for the rest of your short life. Dig in the dirt, work in the mines, or build housing structures. None of it looked inviting from what they showed us in school.

  This news was not just shocking, it was disconcerting. How well would I have to play to stay my full term? Would these girls on my team let me do it? Were they the cause of Dashell's doom? I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. After all, one of them just killed me for absolutely no reason. Other than being a first timer.

  I was escorted down a long hallway of square white panels and tiles. Very few doors. Then we turned and went down another one just like it. My life would never be the same since being sent into the games on my eighteenth birthday. I had woken up in my bed in my father's home that morning, the same one since I outgrew my crib as a baby, but I would never be allowed to return there. Now a Skotopian, I was being guided to our team barracks instead.

  I hadn't been told much about how gamers lived when outside the game. I would assume that they were treated well the way they were revered by many residents. The watchers, that is what we called them. If I could manage to graduate from the games, I would become one of them.

  "Boone," the lady in the sterile clothes and lab coat repeated my name to get my attention. She was at least forty years old, probably close to retirement. Something about her expression when she looked at me suggested that she both loved and hated her job at the same time. She had a softhearted smile, but lots of wrinkles around her eyes made her look more like a constant frowner.

  "Yes, ma'am," I replied.

  "Your team zone is comprised of five sections. The social room and the individual quarters for each of the players on your team. The social room is only accessible for one or two hours per day. Your team captain schedules those time slots. That information as well as a wealth of other data will be available to you in your quarters. Typically, there is a social time slot not long after a game, so you should have the opportunity to meet your teammates in person soon."

  "Okay," I said. "Will I have to wait until then to have drinking water?"

  They didn't want us pissing or crapping ourselves in the hook-up room while we were in the game. That meant no food or water for a while before getting hooked-in. I was definitely hungry. In fact, my stomach was starting to growl. But the thirst was far worse. I was so dry that my lips were sticking to each other as I tried to talk.

  "No Boone," she answered, taking on a motherly tone. She probably had a son of her own, or two. Adults living on the station were permitted to have three children. However, once they turned eighteen, they were either sent to the games or to the planet. Should they graduate from the games after four years, they earned a place on the station for the rest of their lives. They would still have to work for a living, but it was much better than life on Athlios.

  Players could graduate faster than four years, though it didn't happen often. They just needed to be so good in the games to reach level ten. Tenners, as they were called, received extra honor and better jobs. They were our highest level of celebrity and often took on government positions.

  "Your quarters is equipped with everything that you need for daily life. The social room is just for collaborating with your team and getting to know them better. Often, your success in the game can depend on how well you get along with your teammates. You probably figured that out already."

  "Yes, ma'am. I certainly did."

  When we passed a door marked Memphis, I figured we were getting close. Sure enough, my quarters were next, though still marked Dashell for the previous occupant.

  "The name will be replaced on your door later today," the lady said with mild irritation. I did not know her name. No name tag or introduction were provided. "I'm not sure why they haven't done that yet. But rest assured, your quarters have been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized since the other young man departed."

  "Did he get sent to the ...?" I started to ask. The way that we were fed information during our youth had me suspicious. I wasn't a hundred percent sure that everything we had been told was the absolute truth. Life on the planet’s surface seemed too dismal in comparison with living on the space station.

  "We don't talk about those things," the lady said as she used her bracelet to activate the door panel. A split second later the white door whisked open to reveal where I would be spending the vast majority of my time for the next four years. If I was lucky. Dashell probably thought he would still be there.

  Though I had been assured of the clean transition from the previous occupant, I couldn’t help but feel like I was walking into someone else’s residence. Uninvited, and unwelcome.

  "Get comfortable with your new home," she told me from the hall as I stepped through the doorway. "You have access to everything, no bracelet or code required. If you have any issues, you'll be able to submit a request through the system. It is very intuitive, and I am certain that you will be able to figure it out."

  Then the door closed before I could thank her. For what, I wasn't sure. She was simply doing her job. Even the information that she provided wasn't out of the goodness of her heart. Still, I had just left my family behind and was feeling lonely. Her sudden absence had me missing her already. It was silly, but the situation increased my already above average insecurity.

  I wouldn't be alone for long. I knew that. But I had assumed that the four members of the team would be spending much more time together. One or two hours didn't seem like much. Eight hours for sleep. Two hours for exercise. That meant I would have to keep myself company for twelve hours a day when we didn't have a game scheduled.

  After three tentative steps into my new quarters a voice activated. "Hello Boone," the artificial intelligence spoke through unseen speakers in the ceiling or walls. Her voice was soft and caring. "Welcome to your new home."

  "Thank you," I replied without thinking. My father always chastised me anytime I showed appreciation toward a robot or synthetic entity of any kind. They are here to serve us, he stressed. Our gratitude has no effect on them. Save it for the people that matter. But, to me, it felt like practice. If I thanked everyone, then I wouldn't forget to do so when it was important.

  "Your quarters are separated into many sections. Take the time to examine all of them. There are panels throughout your home where you can access information. If there is anything that you need or desire, let me know."

  "How?" I asked. I knew how to communicate with touchscreens. I'd been doing that all my life. But I've never had a vocal AI at my disposal.

  "Simply speak out loud and I will answer. I am always listening."

  Great. I guessed that was more good than bad. Yet I couldn't help but wonder first what kind of negative things the entity would report to authorities that she heard. Or saw. There were probably cameras throughout as well. The place certainly didn’t look like a prison cell but being contained and watched constantly implied that it essentially was one.

  The most noteworthy feature of my new home was the complete absence of interior walls. Since it was intended only for me, they apparently weren't deemed necessary. Only the shower and the toilet had enclosures, and they were both translucent.

  To my immediate left was a be
d more than a meter wide. A bit bigger than my old one and draped with a shiny blanket that I knew would adapt automatically to my temperature needs. After that was a comfortable looking chair with high arms, well cushioned like the one my dad sat in after work every evening.

  Next was a counter height table roughly a meter square, with no chairs around it. The surface held an image that was electronically generated. I would have to examine its function soon. Just beyond it in the far-left corner was my exercise area. A treadmill along with a variety of weights and bands in a short bin beside it. There was also a panel on the wall there with adjustable arms that had hand grips. A pulley system. I was familiar with how to use all the exercise equipment visible. Since infancy it was important for everyone to meet essential physical conditioning quotas. It was rumored that it wasn't a requirement on the planet, which was the only draw to being sent down there. Life in space with artificial gravity did have some drawbacks.