Dream Park

by Larry Niven

  Dogs have not been able to speak since that night. But it escaped the Haiavaha and brought fire to the village."

  "And ever after Man has had fire. I can guess that much. But if this is the Haiavaha, what does it want from us?"

  Maibang shrugged. "Possibly it is still angry." Chester propped himself on his elbows, thinking. "What about the way it made the fire burn backward?"

  "Our legends do not speak of that at all."

  "But in that case..." A smile spread like a slow dawn over Chester's long face. "It's still there to be stolen. Right. You know, it's a pity that dog couldn't talk when it got back to the village. You'd've stolen it by now."

  Maibang was grinning too. "I believe we would at that." The Lore Master seemed to be vastly pleased. "Well, it's a damn good thing that I put a tracer on the Haiavaha. Tomorrow we'll hunt that thing down." He stood, stretching. "Now, people, let's pitch camp. Uncle Lopez should be providing us with dinner any time now. I think we've earned ourselves a little party. What say?"

  A ragged cheer broke out, and the Gamers fell to unpacking. Griffin spread and adjusted his sleeping bag, let the mattress inflate, and flopped.

  A moment later he was pulling himself to his feet. Business. He looked around; nobody was paying attention to him. He sauntered towards the trees. Acacia glanced up and saw him, a mischievous smile curling her lips.

  "Hey there, big fella. If you want to wait a minute, you can have some company."

  "Modesty forbids, my dear. My kidneys are floating, and an au­dience freezes the faucet." She laughed, and nodded, spreading out her sleeping bag. Next to his. Alex thought warm thoughts.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  THE ELECTRIC PIZZA

  MYSTERY

  As soon as he was into the woods he fished out his wallet and flipped it on. "Switchboard," a reedy voice called.

  "Patch me to security. Bobbick. This is Griffin." Alex put his back to a tree and tried to think. Somehow it was difficult to forget the Fore and the Haiavaha and concentrate on the reality outside Gaming Area ‘A'.

  Bobbick's voice was the link he needed. "Hi, chief. I know you've been busy. That's some pretty rough play."

  "I'm not sure it's play at all. Listen, what have you got for me?"

  Bobbick didn't answer for a second, and Griffin thumped the communicator gently. "You there, Marty?"

  "I'm here all right. I just don't like having to say this. Oh, man. Gruff, we've definitely got murder on our hands."

  "Christ," Alex muttered. He sank his weight back into the tree and waited.

  "Novotney confirmed it. We knew that we had death by suffocation, but there was a possibility that Rice had a cold that blocked his nasal passages. You know how he was always sniffling."

  "Yeah."

  "Well, there just wasn't enough mucus to block the passages."

  "I think I can guess the rest. Someone knocked him out, tied him up, gagged him and held his nose shut until he died." He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh, danunit. I knew there was something I was trying to remember."

  "What's that?"

  "Last night. That damn dream. ‘A fine, upright boy.' ‘He wouldn't have taken this sitting down.' Oh good Christ, of course it was murder."

  Bobbick sounded confused. "Ah... I'm not sure I follow you, chief..."

  "Listen. Rice's wrists were abraded. We know he was strug­gling when he died. How the hell did he end up in a sitting posi­tion?"

  "What?"

  "Sitting. Sitting, dammit. He was sitting up. If he had been thrashing around, he should have ended up lying on his side, or on his back, or anything. Do you realize how unlikely it is for him to just accidentally end up in a sitting position?"

  Bobbick inhaled sharply. "I see what you mean." Griffin brooded. "I'm going to need to think on this some more. What else do you have for me?"

  "Good news, bad news, and worse news. First, we've es­tablished the whereabouts of the ‘A' workers the night Rice was killed, and all of them are clean. Likewise for Maibang. Everyone who took the voice stress test passed with flying colors, but-"

  "Alan Leigh?"

  "He's clean. I thought you'd cleared him."

  "I had some second thoughts. But if he passed the voice stress what else?"

  "This Orville Bowan-Bowan the Black is his listing-anyway, he's refused the lie detector. When I told him we'd have to abort the Game, he laughed and said it would serve Henderson right."

  "Yeah. I guess that doesn't surprise me. Forget him, he's clean."

  "Great!"

  "So are Dark Star and S. J. Waters."

  "Sounds like you're making progress. Who's left?" Griffin had to count on mental fingers. "Offie Norliss, his lady Gwen. Not prime suspects, but not in the clear, either. Ah, Tony McWhirter and Acacia Garcia." He didn't like having to say that, but it was true. Masculine vanity aside, why was she sticking so close to the Griffin? "And Mary-Martha."

  "Mary-Martha Corbett?"

  "That's the one. I'm not sure about her. She's been in Gaming A before. Pulling a little bit of industrial spying off might just amuse her. And that about does it."

  "Okay, one more thing," Bobbick said. "Mifficent did some back checking. She was curious about Rice's college life. She got hold of the Sulphur University newspapers for his residency. Guess what?"

  "What?"

  "The face on the statue. We found it. It belonged to one Sonja Prentice, a co-ed who went to school with him. Griff, she commit­ted suicide just two months before Rice left college. Now, what was her statue doing in Rice's apartment?"

  Alex mulled it. It wouldn't be that startling a coincidence. "No opinion. I wish we could ask Rice."

  Griffin returned to the campground to find that Kibugonai had ferried in a case of cold beer, and Maibang was lugging a crate into the inner circle. When they levered it open, Gainers broke into unabashed applause.

  There were loaves of hot garlic bread and six tremendous wheels of pizza with varied toppings.

  Owen Braddon smacked his lips. "You know, there's one thing about Lopez. He may fry you or drown you, but he'll never let you starve."

  A line formed, and disintegrated in laughing wrestlers, and re­formed.

  "There had better be one in there without anchovies," the Lore Master laughed, "or I'm gonna lodge a complaint." He seemed cheerful enough, considering the beating he had taken today. Was he that sure of tomorrow's target? or was it just good politics?

  Griffin joined the line. He tried to find the spot inside him that hadn't been shaken by Bobbick's news. The smile he wore was

  strictly off the rack, and it wouldn't hold long against Acacia's prying.

  He took a lion's portion of pizza and snagged two beers. Acacia joined him at his bedroll and leaned back, propping her plate between knees and stomach. She munched noisily, totally una­shamed.

  Alex managed to talk around a mouthful of pizza. "I'm not sure, but I think that this is my favorite part of this whole nutty business." His hunger had teeth in it, and the cold brew tasted un­believably good. Acacia mumbled something that sounded like agreement, and that was good enough for him. He watched Margie and S.J. finish setting up the campfire, and let the warmth sink into his bones. He was happy. He had found that untouched spot.

  Some of the conversation around them showed nerves frayed by fatigue, but the air of grateful relaxation was contagious. Lady Janet seemed to be enjoying passing around the garlic bread. Alex wondered if it was an excuse to check out the eligible men, now that Leigh had been killed out. She curtsied saucily in front of him, smile a touch too predatory for his taste. "Hot bread, m'lord," she said in her sexiest voice. "Sweeter than a virgin's kiss."

  "That's what I like. Service with a simile." He couldn't help but notice that Acacia had moved an inch closer to him as Janet made her play. "I'll go for the bread, and I'll take the kiss on faith-" But she had served Acacia and passed on.

  Desert stars shone in clusters, sharp and bright on the black dome of Gami
ng Area A. The night was windless. A full belly moved him even further into an intoxicatingly mellow mood.

  Acacia nudged him. "You know, I can't put my finger on it, but you're both more uptight, and more relaxed than you were yester­day."

  He flared at her. "Will you stop analyzing me for just a little while? You make me feel like a bug in biology class. Where's your dissecting needle?"

  "I've got sharp teeth, if that would help."

  The anger had flared and vanished with no trace remaining. Alex chewed the inside of his mouth and tried not to smile. "Now you, young lady, are what is properly known as a tease. Has any­one ever told you that?"

  "And has anyone ever told you that you've got beautiful green

  eyes? I mean, talk about character. They damn near match the green peppers on my pizza."

  Stifling a guffaw, he tried to edge away from her. "Whew. Just what is into you tonight?"

  She ran a finger down his arm, her face deadpan. "Do you mean right now, or what am I hoping for later... ?"

  Alex fell back on the sleeping bag, laughing helplessly. "Punchy," he gasped. "Fatigue toxins. I think I like it."

  The Garners ate like starved wolves. Many had already finished. Holly and Gwen were swapping lines from songs on the far side of the fire.

  Without a wind to stir it up, the fire burned slowly and steadily, only an occasional pop from an exploding green branch stirring up the ashes. Alex slipped his boots off and moved his feet closer to the flame. He looked around, noting that a few people were miss­ing from the circle. Henderson, Gina, McWhirter, Eames, and Lady Janet. Ah-ha. What kind of little party was going on out there?

  Holly dragged Gwen up to the fireside, and broke the air with a loud cough. "Hey, listen, people. How many of you know that we have a celebrity in our midst?" A few boozy cheers egged her on. "This young lady actually has a couple of Nashville albums, and I want to get her singing for us." Mary-em in particular led the shouting approval.

  Gwen looked terrified. "Uh... I only sang backup on a few tracks. Ollie?" She swallowed hard, eyes begging him to get her out of this.

  Ollie didn't notice; he waved her on. "Go on, Gwen! Hey, peo­ple, she's really good!"

  There was something in Gwen's eyes that Alex didn't like at all, a touch of genuine fear that touched him deeply. Part of him wanted to tell everyone to leave her to hell alone. He restrained himself. Don't be conspicuous, 0 Griffin. Don't make waves. Wish­ing he were someone else.

  Mary-em jumped up, grinning ear-to-ear. "Oh, come on, honey. Holly an' I'll help you through it. Do you know ‘The Fighter's La­ment'?" The Garners roared their approval, and Mary-em linked arms with Gwen, Holly on the other side, and began to croak out a tune, Gwen's high, sweet contralto finally wavering from an un­willing throat:

  "I once had a sword, or should I say, it once had me.

  I just picked it up, oh what a sword, it was plus three.

  Its Ego was twelve, a fact of which I wasn't aware;

  Then I tried to leave and I found that the sword didn't care; oh . .

  Gwen's voice faltered, but the Garners, most of them roaring along to the tune of an obscure 20th century ballad, didn't notice at all.

  "I walked through the halls, wasting my time, nothing to find.

  Then I turned a corner, and then I said, ‘Oh no! Undead!'

  The thirty-two Wights saw me coming and started to laugh;

  And I closed my eyes as my sword started hewing a path; oh-"

  Gwen abruptly tore herself away from the other women and ran from the firelit circle with her hands covering her face. Ollie gaped in astonishment. He rose and ran after her.

  Holly and Mary-em were shocked, and Mary-em started to fol­low the sobbing girl, but Holly linked arms with her tightly, hold­ing her, forcing her to sing on.

  "And when I awoke, I was alone, that sword had flown.

  Now I use a club; isn't it good... no-ego wood."

  Mary-em disengaged herself from Holly and looked up at her. At first she didn't say anything. Then, "I'm really not sure that this was a good idea, Holly."

  Frost laughed. "Oh, come off it, Mary. Who could have known the little thing would be so skittish?"

  "I could have. You could have. We could have listened. She said she doesn't sing in front of an audience-"

  Holly stepped back and regarded her uncertainly. "Well aren't we being a little goody-good this evening? I didn't notice you defending her." The two stared at each other for a tense moment, then Holly turned on her heel and walked away.

  Oddly, the other Garners had noticed little. One clump was singing. Another surrounded Owen and Margie, who were speak-

  ing of older, wilder, looser Games. "-Doors that could open any­where in space and time. One afternoon we were running the Khronal Dungeon, and we opened a door and found ourselves looking out into the living room where we were playing. One of the characters shot the Game Master with a crossbow bolt, and the whole Dungeon disappeared!"

  More beer was being consumed, the last of the pizza was gone. Couples were breaking away from the fireside to find privacy. But Mary-em seemed, for the first time that Griffin had seen her, to­tally unnerved.

  Eames wobbled out of the woods, a beer in his hand, plastic smile stretched tight across his face. He leered at Mary-em and she folded her arms, tucking her hands in her armpits. "What are you staring at, Eames?"

  He laughed. When he spoke it was in the ingratiating tones usu­ally reserved for idiots and children. "What's a matter, huh? Isn't she feeling himself tonight?"

  The other voices died. Griffin felt danger tightening in the air. Are we all going crazy? He wanted to scream a warning. Then Acacia's hand was on his neck, stroking him. It felt very nice, very comfortable, and suddenly he could do nothing but watch.

  Let it happen, he thought. He's an asshole anyway ... He

  shook his head like a drunk going down for the third time and wondered what the hell was in that beer?

  Eames said, "You know, Mary-em, I don't like you at all. You are one of the homeliest, most ridiculous little witches I have ever laid eyes on, and I wish-"

  Mary-em's fist shot out like a piston, almost level, catching Eames squarely in the groin. He whoofed air and doubled over, swinging a wild reflexive haymaker. Mary-em went under it and came up, snatched two handfuls of Eames's hair. Both of her feet left the ground as she rammed her knees into his face.

  Earnes shot upright and stumbled back with his face covered in blood. Back into a corner of the fire. He did a ragged hop, trying to stay clear. Then his mind gave up trying to guide his body, and he did a slow spiral to the ground, onto his knees, then fiat on his bloody face.

  Mary-em looked at him, and tears began to stream down from her eyes. She wiped at the streaks with a chubby hand, then walked unsteadily to her bedroll and collapsed into a ball, sobbing. Everyone stared, then, embarrassed, turned back to their own

  little groups and couplets. Griffin felt a vague urge to get up and do something, but once again Acacia's hand dissuaded him.

  "Don't worry," she said, her mouth close enough to his ear for him to feel the heat in her breath. "They'll both be all right."

  He tried to find surprise, indignation, any emotion more appro­priate than the one that was starting to stir. "All right then. What's on the agenda, more songs?"

  She took his face in her hands and brushed his lips with hers.

  "Se algunos juegos para mayores, hombre." She whispered.

  Griffin spoke little Spanish, but the message in her eyes needed no translation at all. He had trouble finding his voice. "Let's go play Pathfinder, shall we?"

  Her smile was hot enough to scorch. She rose, then bent and demurely collected her bedroll. She glanced up and said with half­lidded eyes: "I think we may need this."

  He felt giddy, dizzy, and not totally sure of what he was doing as he nodded, gathering his own bag under his arm. Together, the two of them walked into the darkness and kept walking until the campfire
and its noises were far behind them.

  Acacia kissed him gently, almost shyly. "Here?"

  He spread his sleeping bag down in silent agreement. They linked the inside edges together and sat next to each other, eyes locked wonderingly. "I didn't... I really didn't think that this was going to happen, Gary." She shied away an inch, and he reached out his hand.

  He knew what he should be saying, and he forced his thickened tongue to say it. "It doesn't have to if you don't want it." He tried to mean it.

  "We both know better than that..." She seemed to want to say something, but he stopped her by leaning forward.

  The kiss seemed to go on forever, and what logic was left in Alex's head dissolved together. His blood seemed to fizz. She held him, and he could feel her nervousness.

  "Help me, Gary. I don't understand it. I don't. I want you, but I don't know what's happening to me." There was no strength in her voice. She sounded like a little girl... but her skin was smooth and hot, and he couldn't stop touching her. Excitement and wonder burned in her eyes as he helped her off with her clothes and she clung to him, fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders. When at last he pulled the bag over them both and took

  her in his arms, she closed her eyes, murmuring only "Please, please, Gary. .

  Gary. Not Alex. He paused, unsure, gazing into eyes that were afraid. He felt the fire that roared in his mind and body and from somewhere gathered the strength to pull away. Something's wrong here. She's not-The crazy way the others were-Lopez wouldn't drug us, but- Then she rolled hard against him, and the questions were wiped

  away as they began to move together. The same fear, the same wonder he felt was in her eyes too, but there was something more now, something that began to build until at last it clouded his vi­sion. And for a while, in that moment without time, there were no longer two people who strove and sought, there was only one body with four limbs that found a rhythm of its own.