The Measure of a Man [The Exceptionals Book 1]

by Jerry Kokich, Teel James Glenn

  "But I helped program this thing,” Matthew insisted. “If I goofed, it should have said ‘Command error'. Or, if the program glitches, ‘Program error', or ‘System failure'. It said ‘Command refused'. That's downright snotty."

  "Does sort of imply attitude,” Jason agreed.

  "You saying there's no way to pull the plug, except to go in there?” Bronowitz pointed to the entrance of the game arena, as if it were the jaws of the white whale itself.

  "That would seem to be about it,” Matthew said; an odd gleam found its way into his eyes. “It will take almost a week for its power supply to use up the fuel it has."

  Matthew walked to the Ready Station area and removed one of the disposable silver jumpsuits from the dispenser. His arms were long for the one-size fits all garments, so he rolled the sleeves to a rakish three quarter length.

  "That looks absurd,” Jason commented.

  "Oh, I don't know,” Matthew said as he buckled on a gear belt. “I think it's just the right Star Wars chic."

  "You're crazy going in there,” Bronowitz insisted. “Just let the thing run out of power."

  "I'd like to, but there are one hundred franchises with the exact same system operating around the country; we have to know as soon as possible why Max got zapped.” He looked at his brother. “You coming, Jase?"

  The older twin looked at his brother as if a second head had just sprouted on his shoulders. “Me, in there, wearing that?"

  "'Fraid so,” Matthew said, handing Jason a jumpsuit and belt. “According to the playback tape, the computer grid registered Max out of uniform. See the warning.” He indicated a sign, which flashed, ‘Players out of uniform will be penalized.'

  "This suit looks like I'm doing one of those old 2-D rap videos,” Jason commented as he donned the garment, which was stretched taut across his chest.

  "I can't allow you two to enter there,” Bronowitz declared. “It'd just be endangering yourselves needlessly."

  Matthew looked sharply at the detective, then let his gaze travel to the badly burned Divergilio. “I don't have a choice, and neither do you. We have to get into that system at the central control point."

  The addition of a webbed belt and a baseball-like cap with a visor and earphone attachment completed Matthew's outlandish outfit.

  "There,” Matthew said with more glee than was appropriate. “We're set to go.” He stepped up to the computer screen next to the entrance to the game maze and began to punch in a series of letters. “What game name do you want to use?” he asked.

  Jason, who had hated hats since childhood, grudgingly put his on and pushed it back. “Whadda you mean, game name?"

  Now Matthew looked at Jason as if he had grown a second head. “Your game name for the game maze. Can't get in the arena unless the computer knows what to call you and using your name is just too boring. I've already punched mine in."

  Jason shot him back the same look. “Be serious."

  Matthew smiled and punched in a code. “Okay, Mr. B. Sirius,” he said. “Step up to the door for embarkation."

  Jason looked grim and ready to leave right then, but had a sudden thought and turned to the E.S.U.s who were packing up their equipment.

  "Hey,” Jason asked, “You got any real rubber gloves—not the latex crime scene type?"

  The technician looked to his partner who nodded assent, then produced two pair and tossed them to Jason.

  "Good luck, buddy,” the E.S.U. said. “Hope I don't have to come back for you.” With those cheery words as a send off, Matthew and Jason entered the game maze.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 29

  "Holy geeze,” Firststrike murmured in astonishment. The game maze was unlike anything Jason could have imagined. Matthew and Jason stood in a four by four foot glass booth, one wall of which had a rack with Star Warsesque ray guns and what looked like fencing foils.

  But it was not the booth that prompted his exclamation. It was what was outside the booth.

  On all sides, stretching to a murky purple horizon was a broken, rocky terrain that looked like a Chester Bonstell painting brought to life. Sulpherous yellow clouds drifted by overhead and three pale moons could be seen at various quarters.

  Matthew saw Jason's agog expression. “Yeah, it is impressive. The maze is just a switch back maze setup, which actually alters passages between games. But we disguise it with holograms, computer operated puppets and smoke generators."

  "But this is so real looking,” Jason said. “When I change my head position, it seems that the perspective changes.” His one eye made perspective a distant memory to the martial Exceptional, but the effect was still impressive.

  Matthew's smile widened as he played proud father. “State of the art. And it's not all show.” He stepped to the rack of swords, which were like shortened fencing foils, and drew one. “There are interactive elements, too. Here.” He handed a plastic ray gun to Jason and took one for himself.

  "Do I really need this thing?” Firststrike pleaded. “You know I don't really like guns."

  "If we're to make it through the game maze to the core, yep!” Matthew loaded a battery into the handle of his pistol and handed one to Jason. “Think of it as another Hogan's Alley training exercise—you need to lighten up."

  Jason loaded his gun and pushed his baseball cap back on his head. “This is the stupidest—"

  "Whoa,” Matthew interjected. “Where's your professional detachment?” As he spoke, he pressed the Air Lock Release button by the booth door and it slid back.

  A synthesized voice proclaimed, “You are entering hostile territory. Be sure you are armed. Stay on the glow path."

  Ahead, a narrow trail was marked by road type reflectors and snaked off around a bend of rock. To the left was a steep slope, which dropped off into a deep ravine.

  "It—it even smells right,” Firststrike said in awe. He could feel a dry, cold wind against his face and the scent it carried was an odd mixture of the familiar and the strange. An alien wind, he thought.

  Matthew nodded. “Not my idea, I'm sorry to say—total sensory. My co-designers, Harrison and Chadeaux, are brilliant. It's what makes it the most real to me, I think.” He paused to survey the pseudo-terrain. “There's layered sound and some ultrasound, too,” he continued. “But it's almost subliminal."

  Matthew started to walk down the path outlined by the reflectors, which Jason observed had a mild inner glow of their own. Jason followed.

  The only anomaly Jason noticed as he moved out into the game maze was that the path was geometrically smooth and even to the feel, totally at odds with the rough hewn natural look. He found comfort in the incongruity and referred back to it when his surroundings started to become too real.

  Once they had rounded a major outcropping of ‘rock’ that blocked the booth from view, the ‘game’ really began.

  "Look up there,” Matthew said, pointing to the horizon.

  Jason had already spotted the metal disc of a flying saucer dart over the distant mountains and hover. An amber beam of light pulsed twice from the underbelly and then came toward Matthew and Jason and zoomed by, apparently fifty feet or so above their heads.

  "Wow,” Jason said. “With only one eye, this is so real looking it must be something with the 3-D effect. Does the military know about this?"

  "UniPol purchased three scenarios and future options and the Air Force, Marines, and Navy have a version for training. The Army's been a little stubborn, but they'll come around."

  Jason realized he was still holding the rubber gloves, so he handed a pair to Matthew and they both donned them. “What happens now?” Jason asked.

  "Well,” Matthew said, “I punched in a basic program.” He started walking along the path again. “It'll be easy—we can get back to headquarters in an hour. Those pulses of light were our ‘opponents’ being beamed down.” They rounded another curve and came out onto a widening in the trail, which was strewn with almost man-sized boulders.

&nb
sp; As soon as Matthew rounded one large boulder, a reptilian-looking humanoid popped up from behind another boulder and fired a ray gun at him. Jason hit the ground almost before the figure had pulled the trigger simultaneous with an explosion of rock just above his head.

  Matthew fired from the hip, hitting the reptile sniper square in the head. Jason's shot hit the body on the way down.

  "Geez,” Jason said as he stood to dust himself off. It was only then he realized that no debris had showered him from the rocks above.

  Matthew caught him looking at the blast crater above his head and smiled. “Gotcha,” he said. “And I got the point. Headshots worth five. Only first shots count."

  "This is too weird,” Jason insisted. “Let's go turn this thing off before more nasty-bad-nasties show up to humiliate me."

  As if in reply to Matthew's casual statement, the area around the two men began to change. The rough stone walls smoothed and reformed into brick work and azure sky transmuted into a gothic arched stone lit by torches.

  To Firststrike, it appeared as if one frame of movie film had been superimposed over another. Suddenly, he and Matthew stood in the narrow corridor of a medieval castle.

  "Impressive,” Jason said, trying to sound non-plussed. “Just like the old 2-D Star Trek."

  "Scary as hell,” Matthew exclaimed. “That isn't supposed to happen. We've just shifted programs to a higher level of difficulty: that is not in the programming."

  "Well, what does that—” But before Jason could finish his question, a horde of orcs, their tusk-like teeth gleaming yellow in the torch light, charged around the corner.

  Matthew got off two rounds from his blaster by the time one of the orcs swung a crossbow up to fire at him. Jason shot that one and one of four others who hung back.

  Matthew drew his sword and waded into the three who were left, quickly finishing two with stop hits to the heart. The third held back and, as Matthew finished number two, lunged in.

  Goldstrike partially dodged the attack and pivoted to drive his blade point into the faintly glowing bulls eye over the orc's heart. The orc's blade, however, slashed through Matthew's left bicep and he cried out, stiffened, and collapsed to the floor.

  Jason was at his brother's side before the orc hit the ground, but when he checked the arm there was no sign of a cut. “What gives?” he asked. “Where's the cut?"

  "No cut,” Matthew gasped. “I got juiced. The goddamn computer juiced me for taking a hit."

  The two men were silent for a moment as the full implications became clear to them.

  "Some game,” Jason said. “I think I prefer chess; that's a real game."

  "This is as real as it gets, brother mine,” Matthew murmured. “Real enough to kill."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 30

  "What's our next move?” Jason asked. They stood at the junction of several corridors in the dark castle. The one-eyed Exceptional noticed he even felt a chill as if the stone of the walls were damp. He eyed the dark corridor cautiously.

  "The great hall,” Matthew replied. “Looks like we'll have to play this one all the way through the scenario. That's the only way to the central core room—it's near the end of the maze switchbacks. Watch yourself.” Goldstrike's voice had a dark tone that was out of character. “This is a very hairy level."

  They encountered two more groups of guards, each more fierce than the last, on their way to the great hall of the castle. Soon they were crouched in the shadows on the balcony overlooking the great hall.

  "You are out of your mind,” Jason said. He looked into the room where there were two-dozen orcs in a circle, engaged in a medieval drunken orgy complete with a full-size princess in a giant birdcage near the hearth. “A very sick mind."

  "Hey,” Matthew whispered, “I didn't make this up. The castle is from The Flame and the Arrow and the party is from The Magic Sword, two last century 2-D movies; blame Hollywood."

  "So, now?"

  "Normally we'd swoop down, beat the crap out of those orcs, free the princess and bolt through that far archway there."

  "But tonight?” Jason asked.

  "We just bolt,” Matthew said. “But we still get to swoop.” He moved to the balcony rail and grabbed hold of a rope tied there. The other end of the rope was secured somewhere above in the rafters.

  "I like this part the best,” Matthew said. “We're actually only three feet off the floor, but the computer adjusts the perspective as we swing. There's even a Tarzan scenario that—"

  "Later, Matthew,” Firststrike interupted. “I want to get out of this stupid suit and go home."

  "Right,” Matthew said. “Let's go!"

  The two men swung off the railing simultaneously and suddenly the scene shifted again.

  "Damn,” Jason exclaimed as he landed in a field of cartoon flowers. The sky was cartoon pink with cartoon smiley face clouds and cartoon geese flying in formation. Everything was primary colors and outlined in black like a two-dimensional cartoon.

  "Too weird,” Jason said. He was about to say more, but something suddenly exploded by his ear.

  "Shoot the bees!” Matthew screamed as he fired at and hit a cartoon bee buzzing by Jason's other ear. The bee's eyes turned to little crosses and it fell to the ground in a parody of rigor mortis.

  It was then that Jason noticed the angry swarm of bees, which had risen from the flowers around them. Matthew, gun in hand, was blasting away at the swarm frantically. Jason turned his back to his brother and opened fire.

  For five minutes, neither man spoke as they continued to fire continuously at a seeming inexhaustible armada of bees.

  They were both stung several times with corresponding electrical jolts, but eventually there were no more yellow jackets in the air.

  "Oh, God,” Jason wheezed, rubbing a bee ‘sting'. This is insane—"

  "No time to rest,” Matthew gasped, the adrenaline fatigue beginning to set in. “This is master level. They'll rise as cartoon zombies any minute."

  Matthew was on his feet running before Jason could even mouth, Cartoon zombies? and follow. Some of the first killed of the bees were already starting to vibrate and metamorphize—but into what, Firststike didn't want to know.

  A few minutes later, the two brothers crested a hill and spied three cottages; one of straw, one of sticks, and the last of red brick.

  "I don't want to believe this,” Jason muttered. “I pray every day you were adopted."

  "Make for the brick one,” Matthew yelled, picking up speed, “and watch out for the little pigs, they're killers."

  "Of course,” Jason whispered to himself. He glanced back over the hill the way they'd come and almost stumbled.

  Rising up from the fallen bees like some Tex Avery version of the Hydra's teeth were cartoon character zombies!

  Anthropomorphized wolves, dogs, ducks and other animals, their cartoon eyes turned to ghastly concentric circles, were stiff-leggedly waddling after the two brothers.

  When I get out of this, Jason thought, I'm going to send Matthew to therapy! Suddenly, Jason collided with a saber-toothed Porky Pig that had darted out from the stick cottage.

  Man and pig rolled end over end with the snarling swine trying to sink its six-inch fangs into Jason's neck.

  "The heart!” Matthew yelled. “Shoot the heart!"

  Easier said than done, Jason thought. He couldn't keep Porky off his neck and get the gun clear at the same time. Matthew grabbed the pig by the ears and pulled back which gave Jason the room he needed.

  Blam! and Porky rolled off Jason and muttered, “Bdu-bdu-bdu-That's all folks,” and expired.

  Inside the brick cottage, Matthew barred the door and barricaded two of the three windows while Jason sat on a carved ginger bread chair and muttered, “Sonuvabitchsonuvabitch."

  "They'll be on us in a couple of minutes,” Matthew said. He dropped into the chair opposite Jason at the table and rested his head on his arms. “This is a nightmare."

  "It's
a damn Walt Disney nightmare!” Jason exploded. “You're out of your mind; whatever possessed you to design this—this—"

  "Loony tune?” Matthew offered with a tired grin.

  "See, what I—” But Jason never finished, for at that moment, there was a pounding on the door followed by an eerie yet familiar voice.

  "Come out, you wascally wabbits!"

  "Matthew,” Jason whispered. “You are insane!"

  Then all hell broke loose again as the horde of cartoon zombies began pounding on the door, barricaded windows, and walls in a steady rhythm.

  "Come out—come out—come out—"

  "They're programmed dumb,” Matthew said. “But they'll get to the window and chimney soon. I'll take the window. Let them in before you blast them or they'll bottleneck."

  Jason nodded and it began. The two slaughtered cartoon zombies for ten solid minutes, but it felt like hours. Cartoon corpses filled the tiny cottage and still more came.

  "That's it,” Matthew yelled as the flood of toons thinned. “We can get through the ones left outside."

  "I'm afraid to ask where to—” Jason said as he blew Tweety Bird away.

  "Oz,” Matthew said. “The Emerald City is over the next hill—you win this level when you whack the Wizard."

  Jason just shook his head.

  They opened the door quickly, letting the first rush of zombies in and racing out over their backs.

  They would have made it clear of the cabin if the flying monkeys hadn't been sitting on the roof waiting for them to make a break for it.

  Four of them tackled Jason and bit him until he passed out from electric shock.

  Matthew was set upon by the remaining dozen who held him fast after biting him close to the edge of consciousness.

  A green tornado swirled down from the pink sky and, in its midst, a bulbous-headed face appeared.

  "Like, uh, you dare to challenge me in my, uh, own domain, man?” the visage said with a decidedly Brooklyn accent. “For that, you are stupid."

  A huge gorilla-sized flying monkey appeared with a gleaming scimitar raised above its head.

  "Prepare to die, Yojimbo.” The blade came whistling down. Matthew screamed.