Digital Evolution (The Game is Life Book 5)

by Terry Schott

  Carl shook his head and jumped into the air. “I’m ready to leave. Four years ago. Get us out of here.”

  30

  Trew stepped off the elevator and entered Brandon’s old penthouse apartment without turning the lights on. The family did not live here, but it was still used frequently by both husband and wife when needed. Located inside the main Game Centre tower, it was often convenient to sleep here when long hours spent working prevented one of them from making the trip home.

  Trew walked to the bar and took a glass from the tray. He retrieved ice cubes from the freezer and dropped them into the glass with a clink before pouring whiskey. He swirled the liquid around, allowing the ice to do its job as he moved to stand in front of the large windows where the lights of the city twinkled from far below. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly to allow his body to release the day’s built-up negative energy. Then he summoned the golden glow, enjoying the tingling sensation as it formed at the base of his brain before spreading to envelop his body. He raised the glass to his lips and took a mouthful of the smooth, dark alcohol, letting it roll around his mouth so that all of his taste buds could sample it. He swallowed and smiled as the warmth travelled down his throat and into his stomach. After a moment, he opened his eyes again.

  “Hello, George,” a man’s singsong voice said from behind him.

  Trew did not panic. He knew from experience that an assassin would not announce himself. He raised one hand and placed a finger against his throat, nodding. My pulse hasn’t jumped at all. Decades of grace under pressure pay off. “Would you like a drink?”

  “You have certainly changed since I saw you last time, George.”

  “I have. For example, I’m not named George anymore. That was a couple lifetimes ago.”

  “I liked you as George.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Do you not like me as Trew?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  Through the reflection in the mirror, Trew saw feet swing off the armrest of the couch and touch the floor. He turned to examine the man as he moved into the dim light. Young, under thirty, with short black hair. The same height as Trew—six feet tall—and wearing a long black leather trench coat. Tiny, round, wire-rimmed sunglasses rested on his face, the lenses so dark it was impossible to see his eyes. He wore heavy black combat boots and his hands were covered by thin black leather gloves. On his right hand, attached to the glove, were three—“Are those red pop bottle caps?”

  The man smiled and shook his hand, causing the bottle caps to chime.

  “I don’t recall seeing them during our last encounter.”

  “They are recent additions, relatively speaking.”

  “Aside from that, you look exactly the same as you did all those years ago when we first met.”

  The man did not reply.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk to you about the Game.”

  “Which one?”

  The singing man smiled, a cocky, confident grin that suggested he knew answers to questions not yet asked. “The one that you are talking about ending.”

  “You are concerned because it is where you live.”

  The man laughed, producing a sound more musical than his speech. “I rarely visit Earth, George. I spent more time there during your lifetime as George than I have spent before or since.”

  “I feel special.”

  “You are, but you know that.”

  “If the Game is not your home reality, then why do you care if it ends?”

  The man held his hands up and spread them apart, humming as he did so. A thin curtain of golden light appeared between his hands, taking the form of an ancient, gold-coloured tapestry. He stopped humming, but the image continued to float in front of him. “Reality, at least the portion of reality that you live in is similar to this piece of cloth.”

  “Thin and insubstantial?”

  “Yes,” The man smiled. “But those are not the points that I wish to focus on.” He reached out and plucked a thread from the tapestry, giving it a quick pull, removing it from the whole. “This is the Game.” He waved the thread of light. “More specifically, it is the reality created by the players of the Game.”

  “You’re losing me.”

  “Try to keep up.” With a flick of his wrist, the thread wove itself back into place. “Successful students are crucial in so many ways. If you end the Game, you rob the universe of a valuable resource.”

  “I save millions from pain and suffering.”

  “You’ve already figured out how to do that.” The floating wall hanging disappeared and the man walked to the bar and poured himself a drink. “Took you forty years, but the new games are good solutions to that problem. Just because you find a way to plug holes in a boat doesn’t mean that it’s okay to take it out of the water and never use it again.”

  “That’s not a great analogy.”

  The man shrugged. “It is, but not my fault if you don’t get it. Think about it for a few days and it might become clearer.”

  Trew took a sip of whiskey. “The Game causes pain to the children playing it. Lifetimes of suffering.”

  “It also provides memories of lifetimes of joy and happiness,” the man countered. “Without the Game, there would be no Trew. No Danielle. I can introduce you to millions of incredible people living on Tygon, contributing to this planet and society because of their experiences inside the Game. Everything that Tygon is today comes as a direct result of the children who played the Game. Your world’s future depends on continuing to use this system as a crucible to create leaders, artists, scientists, and individuals capable of incredible feats.”

  Trew considered the man’s words. “We have already made plans for the Game world platform. Keeping it active would result in three virtual realities existing on the same foundation. That could lead to complications.”

  “You’re a clever boy, George. I have faith that you can handle whatever problems happen to crop up.”

  “You expect me to change my mind based on a brief visit from someone I haven’t seen in a long time?”

  “No.” The man drained his glass and set it on the bar. “I expect you to think about it and realize that keeping the Game is critical to the survival of your world, the same as it always has been.”

  “I will discuss it with Danni.”

  “And Sylvia,” the singing man advised. “Brandon if you can find him.” He walked to the door and opened it. “Take your time, George.”

  “It was good to see you again.” Trew said.

  The man grinned. “It was good to see you as well.”

  31

  One thousand Timeless descended to the ground in formation, landing a few hundred metres from the mound. Brandon raised a hand to signal them to hold position.

  “Looks like we have company,” he murmured to Raphael beside him. “Pass the word along. Everyone waits here until I give the sign to approach.”

  Those in front repeated the message over shoulders, the next group doing likewise while Brandon strolled to the mound. The old man munched on a bar, watching with a curious expression as Brandon stopped in front of him. The old man leaned to look past him at the other Timeless.

  “Why are you in this place, boy, and why did you bring all of your funny-eyed friends with you?”

  “Bit of a mistake.” Brandon climbed the small hill and sat down.

  The old man reached into his backpack, pulled out a second bar, and handed it to Brandon. “That’s an understatement. The inhabitants of this world are dangerous and not very friendly.”

  “We discovered that.”

  “How many did you lose?”

  “Only a couple.”

  “You’re lucky. Nasty world to be visiting.”

  Brandon peeled back the foil on the bar and took a bite. “Where are we?”

  The old man shrugged. “I haven’t gotten around to naming it,
and you wouldn’t understand what the natives call it in their language.”

  “Is this a computer simulation?”

  The old man chuckled. “Everything has to be a simulation with you, boy. You enjoy the computer angle, don’t you?”

  “Are you saying it isn’t all a simulation?”

  “Oh!” The old man’s eyes widened and his smile grew. “We have time to discuss the mysteries of the universe for a while now? In about fifteen minutes, the light gets dim and the sand we are standing on turns into small carnivorous flying insects. Let’s talk about simulations for the next—would fourteen minutes be cutting it too close?”

  Brandon laughed. “Perhaps when we meet again in safer surroundings.”

  The old man grunted and took another bite from his bar as he looked up at the orange-tinged clouds. “You here looking for the Artifact?”

  Brandon nodded.

  “It’s not here.”

  Brandon chewed silently.

  “In this reality.”

  Brandon swallowed and took another bite from the bar. The old man smiled and took a bite of his own. They sat this way until both bars were finished. The old man took a drink from his water bottle and stood, brushing the sand from the plastic bags.

  “Of course I will help you get back.”

  Brandon stood as well. “Thank you.”

  “If Shane had touched the Artifact out of order, they all would have been melted in an orange cloud of poison.”

  “They are fortunate that Shane did not touch the Artifact out of order.”

  The old man scowled and then laughed as he waved his hand. Shimmering waves of silver light began to spread from his fingertips and flow toward Brandon. “I like your sense of humour, boy. Always have.”

  Brandon opened his mouth to reply but the mist rushed forward to envelop him. A second later, he blinked and found himself standing on an open plain with green grass under his feet and blue sky above him. The old man was gone. He looked behind him and saw the entire group of Timeless standing in formation, some looking about with confusion, others smiling and shaking their heads.

  Brandon rejoined the group.

  “The old man,” Angelica said.

  Brandon winked and smiled. “The old man.”

  32

  The woman stood on the stage and smiled as she looked out at the crowd, over two thousand people from all walks of life: women, men, teenagers, senior citizens. Labourers and business executives, students and teachers, nurses and architects. Weeks of secret meetings and discussions now culminated in their first assembly. She raised her hands and the crowd became silent.

  “I would like to thank you all for coming today. This is the first of many gatherings and I am certain that our numbers will grow as word of our mission spreads.” Heads nodded around the crowd, some smiling and others clapped. “We have assembled peacefully to show our leaders that we are not content to sit and live this life when a better opportunity lies just a short distance away.”

  The crowd at the back of the room began to stir, parting to allow more people through the back door. “We have a voice, and we will use it. Life here was never good for us. Living on Earth showed us that there is something better, and we will petition those in charge to help us return.”

  The newcomers at the back continued to push forward, parting the crowd with steely glares and strong hands. The woman frowned but continued to speak; it would defeat the power of her message to stop now. “We have the right to something better than this world offers, and we will demand it.”

  She raised her arm to accentuate her point, expecting to hear support and cheering. Instead, silence greeted her.

  The new group had made its way to the front of the stage, standing between it and the crowd. Two people, one man and one woman, came up the stairs and moved to join her, one standing on either side. Her mouth went dry as she recognized the man.

  “General Donovan.” The woman’s voice shook. “We . . . we would like a moment of your time to address an important issue.”

  The General raised his hand and the woman stopped talking. His expression was dispassionate. “You are confused, citizen.”

  “What do you mean—”

  He slapped her with the back of his hand. She let out a cry and fell to the ground.

  “Get up.” Melissa grabbed the woman and pulled her to her feet.

  The General turned to look out over the crowd in disgust. “I understand that you enjoyed your time inside the Sim.” His voice was loud enough to carry to the furthest corner of the hall. “I also realize that Earth operated differently from our world. Democracy, choice, freedom of expression. These were all interesting concepts that were tolerated and even encouraged in the little game world.” He shook his head. “But you are no longer on Earth. You have returned home. You have been saved. Those words have no meaning here.”

  “We want to go back.” The woman’s voice shook, but she felt obligated to represent the people. “This life offers us nothing.”

  The General withdrew a pistol from his holster and pulled back the slider to load a bullet into the chamber. In one smooth motion, he pointed it at the woman’s head and pulled the trigger, his face remaining impassive as the boom filled the silence of the room.

  The cartridge ejected from the weapon and landed on the ground, the sound it made seeming louder than the gunshot.

  The General stared out at the crowd. Every protestor stared at the ground. “Twenty of you will be permitted to live. Find the rest of your friends. Get the word out to anyone else thinking about change. It will not be tolerated. The sooner you return to your lives, your old lives, the happier you will all be.”

  The General’s eyes met Melissa’s. “Get to work, soldier.”

  Melissa’s face was blank. She raised her rifle and disengaged the safety. “Yes, sir.”

  Gunfire and screams filled the air as the General walked off the stage and out the door.

  33

  Trew looked up from his tablet and rewarded the senator with a smile. “This is excellent, Senator. Thanks to your efforts, fifty thousand senior citizens will enter Sojourn for the launch.”

  “I’m glad that you are pleased with the number, Trew.” The senator smiled confidently. “You asked for a significant number and I delivered.”

  “You did, indeed.”

  “Now it is time for you to deliver on your promise to me.” He slid a single sheet of paper across the desk.

  Trew scanned the conditions without reaching to pick it up. “Item number seven is interesting.”

  “Really? I thought it was a small thing, which is why it is almost near the bottom of the list.”

  Trew scowled. “It’s almost near the bottom of the list because you wanted to coat the bitter medicine with sugar before expecting me to swallow it.”

  “If you think the request unreasonable”—the senator spread his hands—“then we can discuss it.”

  “You want to rule Sojourn.”

  “Not at all.” The senator shook his head. “I want to help my people get the most out of their experience. I feel responsible for them, Trew, since they are sacrificing their lives as a result of my assurances and encouragement.”

  The hollow words of politicians ring with the same tone everywhere. “That is admirable of you.” “Trew, I like to think that one of the reasons you approached me was because I am different from my colleagues.”

  “That is exactly why I approached you.”

  “Then please do not treat me as if I am just a power-hungry, bitter old man who craves dominion over a new world.”

  “I would like to.” Trew tapped the list with his finger. “But this request makes me wonder at your true motives.”

  “Fine. Remove it from the list.”

  He’s playing me perfectly. I will play back. “Thank you, Senator. Consider it removed.”

  The senator drew a breath but paused.

  Now let’s see if he pouts. “Sojourn is online. We will start
inserting players in groups of one hundred. After the first thousand are in, we will wait for a couple game days and see how they react to the simulation. If things look fine, then we will insert another ten thousand and wait again. Finally, we will send the remaining players in.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “You will enter last.”

  “I would like to enter first, if that’s acceptable to you.”

  Predictable. I find comfort in that. Trew made a show of considering the request before nodding. “It is.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I do trust you, Senator.”

  “Okay.”

  “This new game is different from the original. Knowledge and experience will be taken into the simulation with you. That is an extreme advantage. To combine that with additional powers . . . I don’t want to introduce a super-powered creature who will be tempted to rule and dominate the others. My first responsibility is to deliver a fair opportunity to everyone hoping to live a quality second life.”

  “You should have called the game that. Second Life.”

  Trew shook his head. “I doubt it would catch on.”

  The senator chuckled.

  “I also don’t want players thinking it is just more of the same with this new life. That is not what we wanted. It’s not what you sold them.”

  “True.” The senator stood and held his out his hand. “I thank you for this opportunity, Trew.”

  “I am excited to see how it all turns out.”

  The senator stood and moved to leave. “I’m certain it will be entertaining for both the players and the viewers.”

  The door closed and Trew looked at his tablet.

  A few seconds later, Sylvia spoke. “He will likely be trouble.”

  “I guarantee he will be. Which is where you come in, Sylvia.”

  “You don’t intend to meet his conditions.”

  “Not a single number on his list will be granted.”

  “He will be furious.”

  “Let him be. We will keep a close eye on the senator’s progress in Sojourn. He will not ruin my new project.” Trew crumpled the list on his desk and threw it into the trash. “In fact, he will likely add some excitement to it.”