by Terry Schott
He stopped directly above the smoke and descended to the outer walkway of an elaborate tree house. The giant limbs of the tree had been encouraged to weave together to form the majority of the walls, a patchwork of thick living branches. Various coloured scraps of material were strewn about the openings, serving as crude curtains and doors.
As Thorn walked along the catwalk, sounds of rustling plastic came from inside.
A gravelly voice greeted him from beyond the wall. “'Bout time you showed up. Come on in when you find the door.”
Thorn pushed the red and green curtain aside and stepped into the tree house. It was larger inside than one would guess. Each of the numerous rooms was filled from floor to ceiling with countless oddities: piles of books, knickknacks, exotic dried animal parts, and a multitude of other strange and curious items. Thorn could not help but feel nostalgic; he had lived here for a time, studying and learning from the mysterious tenant who inhabited this wondrous tree house located in the middle of nowhere, and no when.
“Come in, come in,” the voice called from the far side of the room. Thorn had often wondered how the tree house could appear so small at times, yet at others the rooms were expansive. “I’ve got something I want to show the both of you.”
Thorn smiled seeing the second person sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor across from the old man. Brandon, the twenty-year-old version of himself that inhabited the Game world of Earth, smiled and waved at Thorn. “Hello, Father.” He beamed as he stood. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Hi, Son.” Thorn hugged Brandon. “It’s a treat to find the both of you here together.”
The old man chuckled, causing the black plastic garbage bags covering his body to crinkle. The red pop bottle caps of his gloves tinkled and chimed as he motioned for Thorn to sit. “Hurry up, the two of you. Sam will have to leave soon, and there is much to discuss.”
Thorn noticed the object sitting in front of the old man and his smile disappeared. He nodded and sat.
The Artifact floated in the middle of the floor, its round outer surface pulsing between smooth and jagged, smooth and solid. The five distinct and separate colours swirled inside carelessly. “I am seeing this item everywhere I turn, lately.”
“Of course you are,” the old man snorted. “Things have progressed as I had hoped, and it is time for the Artifact to play a larger role in the game.”
Thorn frowned. “I thought the game was over?”
With a puzzled expression, the old man turned to look at Brandon. “Were you thinking the same thing?”
“Absolutely. Father created Tygon to give me a reality to work in. I created the Game on Tygon to save the people of our world. We were successful.”
“You were.”
“I assumed that was it.” Brandon shrugged and looked at Thorn for confirmation. “Wake the dreamers and return them to their reality. That was the whole purpose of the Game.”
The old man looked at Brandon for a moment and then gazed off into the distance as if lost in thought. Then he shivered and ran a hand through his messy white hair. “You boys are doing a remarkable job with your personal growth, both mentally and spiritually. I often forget how young the two of you are and how much you still have to learn.” He stood and walked to the kitchen. A teapot materialized on the small counter along with three small, round cups. The old man poured a dark green liquid into each, put them on a small tray, and carried them back to the sitting area. He handed a cup to each of his visitors. Thorn accepted the cup and inhaled the wonderful aroma of the tea before taking a sip; it tasted just as delicious as it smelled.
“I can understand why you might believe that the game is finished.” The old man drained his cup in one smooth swallow and placed it on the ground before sitting down and crossing his legs.
“But there’s more?”
“Yes.” The old man winked at Thorn. “There’s more.” He pointed at the Artifact in front of him. “This globe has appeared in each of your realities at the exact same moment in time. It sits inside the Game, Tygon, and the Dream, waiting to assist us in our next phase of the plan.”
“What plan?”
The old man waved his hand and a large rug appeared in the air in front of him. “Imagine that the universe is an elaborate tapestry.” He plucked a strand from its edge and pulled, leaving a thin empty space behind. “If I remove one small thread, the entire structure of the tapestry is compromised. After a while, it will become so weakened that it will lose the ability to retain its beautiful shape.” It began to crumble, folding in on itself and disintegrating into nothingness.
He waved his hand and the flawed structure reappeared. “In order to save the whole, the little thread needs to be returned to its proper place.” He waved his hand and appeared as a strand of light, moving back into its original spot. “If the slightest weave is done incorrectly,” the old man said, “then it is all for nothing and the tapestry is lost. Forever.”
The illusion disappeared in shimmering light and the old man looked at them. “That’s what you boys have been doing.”
“We’ve been saving the universe?” Brandon asked.
“Of course not.” The old man chuckled. “You have been playing on a much smaller scale than that.” He lifted his teacup to his lips, seeming to have forgotten that it was empty. “To think one was attempting to save the entire universe, or even one of an infinite number of universes . . .” He took an imaginary sip from his empty cup with a loud slurp.
“Yeah,” Thorn said. “That would be too much pressure for one person to handle.”
“You boys are doing much less than saving the universe. Nevertheless, the games you play are important, and we are in no way close to finished playing them.”
Brandon looked at the Artifact. “And this is the next part of our game?”
“Don’t think of it as part of the last game you were in,” the old man said. “Instead, view it as an entirely new game. You’ve all had a nice rest and a bit of time to enjoy your success, but it’s time to get back to work. You were born and bred for this. I didn’t think to bother asking if you were up for the challenge of it.” He paused dramatically and cocked his head to look at each of them in turn. “You are, aren’t you? Up for this new game?”
Thorn looked at Brandon. Both of them nodded.
The old man laughed and clapped his hands, the sound of his laughter mixing with the chiming of his gloves to produce a cheerful melody. “Excellent! Then listen closely while I tell you what to do next.”
“Who are we going to save this time?” Brandon asked.
“Save?” The old man’s grin disappeared. “Who said you are going to save anyone?”
8
Trew and Danielle Strayne surprised the world yesterday by announcing that their daughter, Addisyn, would not be entering the Game. They also stunned billions of citizens all across the planet by revealing that, a short time from now, no players will be entering the Game ever again.
Trew Strayne quickly followed the announcement with assurances that the Game will continue, but the format and players will change.
No one knows what this announcement means, or who the new players will be. Speculation is rampant. How will the Game change, and what will it mean for fans and players alike?
Stay tuned to this channel for updates as they happen.
Lisa Rohansen, Channel One Director
The medical technician looked up from his desk and stood as Trew entered the room. “Hello, Mr. Strayne. This is an unexpected surprise.”
Trew smiled at the technician and moved to the bed of the single patient in the middle of the room. “Good to see you, Ken.”
“He’s inside the Game, sir.”
“I think he will be coming out soon.” Trew put his hand on the young man’s forehead and then nodded and moved to sit on a nearby couch.
“You do have a habit of appearing whenever he is about to wake up.”
Trew smiled and took his portable tablet from
its case. “Just ignore me and go about your business. If he doesn’t come out within the next half hour then I will leave and come back later.”
The monitor beeped. “Looks like your timing is perfect, Mr. Strayne.” The technician moved to the table beside the player’s bed and filled a syringe from a bottle of clear liquid. Then he stood and waited.
Minutes later, the twenty-three-year-old’s eyes opened. He lay calmly as Ken injected the needle into the IV tube. Trew looked up from his tablet and watched as the medical technician went through the process of administering medicine and solutions that helped players fully exit the Game. Finally, Ken nodded and took a step back. The boy sat up, closed his eyes, and rolled his neck from side to side. Then he opened them, looked at Trew, and smiled.
“How much time do we have?” Trew asked.
“Half hour.” The young man rubbed his neck. “Then I need to get back inside.”
“Okay.” Trew stood and walked towards the door. The young man slid off the bed and removed the IV needle before following.
“What is it you want to see, Brandon?” The door opened with a whoosh.
“I’m excited to see the method that you’ve developed for putting adults into the Game without killing them.”
***
Brandon scanned the reports and figures on the computer screen. “How much time before I need to get back in?”
“Fifteen minutes,” Sylvia’s voice sounded from both nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
He shook his head and looked up from the monitor, locking eyes with Trew as he raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t figured out how to do it.”
“Correct.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“How you can change the Game.” Brandon leaned back and propped his feet up on the desk, the gesture reminiscent of a forty-year-old Brandon Strayne.
“The school experiment seems to have run its course, according to you and Sylvia.”
“That’s true.” Brandon’s blonde hair bounced as he nodded. “So why not just stop the Game completely and move on.”
Trew laughed. “You’re joking, right? Thanks to you, the Game has become the foundation for this world’s entire infrastructure. Without the Game, society would collapse.”
“Then let it.” Brandon shrugged.
Trew saw the glint in Brandon’s eyes and he laughed. “You have a terrible sense of humour today.”
“I guess.” Brandon stood. “I get tired of playing games sometimes. I had hoped that after saving the world I would get a break.”
“You’ve had a break. Nothing significant has happened on Earth since the children all grew up and passed on.” Trew was referring to the enlightened children in the Game who had helped teach the sleepers how to wake up and return to their own reality of the Dream. After the event, the enlightened children had lived normal Game lives. Those still in school had played many more incarnations since. That period was now little more than a ten–year- old memory from a great event in the Game.
“The Game no longer serves a real purpose. I always knew that it would negatively affect the majority of children. Throwing an individual into multiple lives and allowing them to retain the memories of each existence was extreme, but also necessary when I was trying to save the people of the Dream. Shutting it down after all of these years is the right decision.”
Trew nodded.
“I know how deeply entrenched the Game is into Tygon life. All business, commerce — this entire reality — revolves around it. If you shut it down, things would be painful at first, but after a short adjustment period, the world would learn how to exist without it. You and Danielle are strong enough to guide them through a new transition. Maybe it is time to let the Game die.”
Trew shook his head. “This is my world, Brandon.”
“It’s mine too.”
“Is it? Your real world is the Dream.”
“I can’t go back there.” Both of them knew that Brandon’s body had died on his homeworld.
“What about Earth, then?” Trew asked. “You spend a lot more time there than you do here. I think that of all the realities you have existed in, Tygon is the one that you care about least.”
“You’re right, I never enjoyed this place. It was too much like work to live and play in this reality.”
“Then perhaps you should have no say in what happens here.”
“And you do? When you were a player, you spent dozens of lifetimes on Earth. Add it all up and you haven’t existed on Tygon for very long either.”
“Maybe not, but it’s my original home. The place where I am real.”
Brandon smirked. “Are you so sure? I’ve spent a lot of time in different realities and it’s most likely that none of us are real in any of them.”
“You have to go back into the Game soon.” Trew tapped his watch. “Do you want to spend the next six minutes discussing philosophy?”
“No.” Brandon walked towards the door. “You’re right, the Game can continue for now. I also agree that it is no longer necessary to use the simulation as a school for our . . . your children. The problem that I experienced years ago still remains, however.”
“Yes.” Soon after taking over for Brandon, Trew had learned the true reason that adults did not play the Game simulation. It had been one of Brandon’s best-kept secrets. “For some reason, adults can’t be removed from the simulation.”
“Seems cruel to sentence adults to death by making them enter the Game just to spare the children and maintain entertainment for the rest of the world.”
“I have a specific group in mind.”
Brandon smiled. “Fill me in on the way back to my room. If you’re planning what I think you are, then this just might be a great idea.”
9
“Good morning, Prophet.”
Danielle bit her lip and smiled politely as she adjusted the purple robes of her office about her shoulders. Ten years, and it still sounds strange to be called that.
At first, she had asked people not to call her that and they’d just smiled. After a few months, Trew had suggested that she embrace the honorific, even find ways to use it to their advantage. It had taken another two months for her loving husband to convince her that his plan was worth trying.
Even now, a decade later, Danielle still had to make a conscious effort each day to accept the title which the people of Tygon had bestowed upon her. The title, and everything that came with it.
“Good morning, Heather.” Danielle stopped in front of her receptionist and grabbed a pile of mail. “How was your weekend?”
“It was great, thank you.” The phone began to ring, multiple lines chirping with a pleasant tone. Heather glanced at the busy switchboard but did not move to answer the calls. She looked back towards her boss.
She thinks I’m too important to ignore for the phones. Danielle smiled and walked towards her office. “Go ahead and get that, Heather. We can talk about your weekend when the phone calms down. Please make sure that we do, though. I know that your oldest finished his final play on Saturday, and I can’t wait to hear how he ended up in the Game standings.”
“I’m honoured that you remembered, Prophet. I will come in as soon as I can.”
Danielle nodded and entered her office. The room was large with white walls and carpets. The furniture added the colour accents: a dark blue desk, earthy brown chairs, and dark grey couches were placed in the far corner in front of a large view screen. Pictures hung on the walls, mostly of Danielle and Trew posing with famous and influential people from around the world. Her office was the perfect combination of professional ambiance and power blended with soothing energies and colours. Out of habit, Danielle scanned the room as she walked to her desk. A smile appeared on her face as she looked at the couch in the corner of the room.
“Heather didn’t tell me I had a visitor.”
Black plastic garbage bags crinkled as the old man stood. He crossed the room and p
lopped down into the visitor’s chair, running a hand through his messy white hair. The red pop bottle caps of his gloves chimed as he tried, unsuccessfully, to flatten a stray patch of it. “That’s because Heather didn’t know you had a visitor, girl.”
Danielle pursed her lips together and remained silent.
After a few moments, the old man chuckled. “I thought you might be a little happier to see me. It’s been a long time.”
Danielle nodded. She hadn’t seen him since leaving the Game on her last play. “It’s not that I’m not happy to see you. I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t expect to see you on Tygon. I had no idea you could come here.”
The old man spread his arms with a theatrical flourish. “I’m full of surprises, Danni.” He winked at her.
“I can’t imagine that you being here is a good thing for me.”
“Well that’s just a bit negative, don’t you think?”
“Am I right?”
The old man opened his mouth to say something, then paused and cocked his head. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I suppose your assessment is fair, based on your past experiences with me. Would you believe me if I told you that there are some people in the universe who get excited every time I appear because they feel it’s a great opportunity for positive things to happen?”
“I should like to be in that group of people.”
“Maybe you are and just don’t realize it.” He shrugged.
Danni did not reply.
The old man grinned and looked around the room. “So, they like to call you Prophet around these parts, huh?”
“Yes.” Danielle retrieved two water bottles from a small fridge. “Turns out that I developed a pretty large following while I played as Danielle.”
“Shocking.” The old man accepted a bottle and removed the lid, taking a long drink before speaking. “And why did they start calling you Prophet?”