One Life Remaining (Portal Book 2)

by Mark J Maxwell

  Hey Adam, how are tricks? Oh yeah, by the way, a crazy guy asked me to tell you something. Then he blew his brains out.

  How did Baker even know Adam existed? No. More importantly, how did he find out she knew about Adam? And if Baker knew, then so did Spencer Harrow, his Prophet.

  Louisa reached a decision. She wouldn’t take any time off. She needed to find out why Harrow had been Red Flagged, and why the NCA was investigating him. His history graph may have been off limits, but Killian Baker’s wasn’t. All she had to do was come up with a plausible reason to execute it.

  *

  Jess was still practising when she came downstairs. Louisa beelined for the coffee machine. Her hand reached out to stroke her daughter’s long black hair on the way past, but she pulled back at the last moment. She used to brush it every night. A bedtime ritual. Until Jess’ thirteenth birthday anyway, when her daughter twisted her head away and proclaimed she “wasn’t a child any more.” Next year she’ll be eighteen. Then she really won’t be my little girl any more.

  Jess played with the aid of a Portal tuition extension. It projected the music in front of her, along with highlighting the chords and keyboard fingerings. It even had a virtual tutor who’d offer advice as she played. There were hundreds of classical favourites available to learn. She hadn’t made it to Clair de Lune yet, and to be honest Louisa had mixed feelings about hearing it again.

  Before she could stop herself Louisa’s gaze drifted to her daughter’s wrists. The sleeves of Jess’ light woollen pullover had ridden up, revealing a web of thin white lines. Louisa shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the images of Jess lying in the hospital bed which always flashed through her mind when she glimpsed the scars. ‘Sounds great, sweetie.’ Louisa managed to keep her voice neutral.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ Jess’ eyes remained fixed straight ahead. ‘I didn’t realise you were home.’

  ‘It turned into an all-nighter.’ Louisa dabbed at her eyes. She stuck a cup under the coffee maker’s nozzle and pressed the expresso option. ‘I went straight to bed when I got back.’

  ‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

  ‘I needed to get up anyway.’ She took a sip. ‘Where’s your brother?’

  ‘Where do you think?’

  Charlie was undoubtedly up in his room. Playing one of his games. ‘We should have some of your friends over for your birthday. I’ve bought a cake. Candles too.’

  Jess swivelled to face her. ‘A birthday cake? I’m seventeen, Mum, not twelve.’

  ‘I know. I thought it would be nice, that’s all.’

  Jess’ expression softened. ‘Maybe, we can meet up here before we head into town. No candles though. And promise not to sing “Happy Birthday”. It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘Sure.’ Louisa grinned. It was a small victory, but she’d take it. ‘What time’s Ben coming over? I wouldn’t want him to miss out. Charlie will devour the whole cake by himself given half a chance.’

  ‘He didn’t say.’ Jess turned back to the piano. Her shoulders sagged. ‘I don’t know if he’s coming.’

  ‘What are you taking about? Ben wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world.’ Louisa hesitated. ‘You’ve not fallen out, have you?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Have you heard from him recently?’

  ‘It’s been a week or two. But he’s at college, sweetie. He’s probably off having fun with his friends.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Jess looked so crestfallen Louisa immediately regretted her choice of words. Ben was in his first year of a computer science course at a local technical college. She couldn’t have been more proud of him, despite missing him dearly. Jess was coping less well with his absence. When Louisa took Ben in three years ago he was an instant hit with her kids. Charlie had always wanted an older brother, and Jess...well Jess worshiped him from the moment he walked through the front door that wet and dreary afternoon of Claire’s funeral. But it hadn’t all been smooth sailing.

  ‘I haven’t heard from him in a while,’ Jess said, ‘and he’s not returning my calls. I’m worried, Mum.’

  ‘When did you last hear from him?’

  ‘Two weeks ago.’

  ‘How did he seem?’

  ‘Fine, I guess. It’s probably nothing. I thought I should mention it. You know?’

  ‘It’s okay. You did the right thing.’

  ‘You’ll check in on him?’

  ‘Sure. Don’t worry. I’ll call round to his flat.’

  Jess brightened. ‘Great. Well, tell him I’m looking forward to seeing him, okay?’

  *

  Charlie didn’t answer when Louisa knocked on his door. She found him lying on the bed, eyes closed, wearing his favourite black Multiverse hoodie. A terminal sat on his study desk, displaying his school’s homework extension. At least he made a start before he abandoned it. ‘Charlie?’

  He didn’t reply, or even move. He was dead to the world. They often argued over the amount of time he spent in full immersion. Multiverse games interfaced with the player’s optical and cochlear implants. One time she even threatened to shave his head while he was jacked in. She grinned at the memory. Charlie had been horrified.

  She pinged his profile. When there was no response she decided to go in after him. If she shook him hard enough he’d come round, but the sudden reintegration wouldn’t be pleasant. He’d feel sick at the very least. As his legal guardian she had full access to his shared feeds (much to Charlie’s chagrin). His activity feed indicated he was playing a Multiverse game called Interstellar Planetary Domination.

  Something brutally violent, no doubt.

  Louisa sat at his desk and tried to relax. If she jacked in while tense she’d have a crick in her neck for a week. She logged in as a spectator to his session and accepted the game’s request to interact with her implants. Then she rested her head on her arms and closed her eyes.

  Louisa found herself floating in space, facing a red-hued planet with a lurid blue streak around the equator. The ache behind her eyes had vanished. A welcome side-effect of full immersion. Much like a patient undergoing general anaesthesia for an operation, anyone in full immersion couldn’t physically move, and they experienced dampened sensations, including pain. Unlike anaesthesia however, a user in full immersion wasn’t unconscious as such. They still retained the ability to make cogent decisions based on experiences fed to them via their implants, and the brain accepted these feeds as replacements for the user’s own senses, altering their perception of reality.

  The planet grew larger. No, it wasn’t getting bigger; she was falling, fast. Louisa nearly ended the immersion there and then, the sensation of plummeting toward the surface was so powerful.

  It’s not real. You’re sitting in Charlie’s bedroom. You can jack out any time you want.

  She repeated the mantra, over and over until she calmed. The kids had adapted to full immersion with much more ease than she. The first time Louisa tried it she suffered a full-on panic attack, overwhelmed by the visuals and the sense of disembodiment.

  As she cleared the planet’s upper atmosphere a cluster of flying ships swarmed beneath her. Tear-dropped shaped, the sleek vessels were divided into primary colours of red, blue and yellow. Within seconds she fell amongst them. The ships streaked past, engaged in vicious dogfights. A blue craft clipped the tail of a yellow opponent with bright laser fire. Smoke billowed from the yellow ship as it spiralled out of control. The pilot ejected. Before he could deploy a chute another blue ship flashed a laser at him. He dissolved into a fine red mist.

  The fast moving visuals were nauseating. Louisa knew the feeling was all in her head, but she couldn’t help it. She closed her eyes. Even though they were closed in reality, her intent still registered with the simulation and it cut off the visuals. When she opened them again she was safely on the ground, standing in an intersection of a modern downtown central business district. Skyscrapers loomed overhead and craters large enough for her to curl up in pockmarked the tarmac. Across th
e road a burnt-out vehicle smouldered, the acrid smoke fouling the air. Advertising covered the cityscape. Futuristic holographic displays clung to the sides of buildings and hung over the streets. The holograms above Louisa must have been aimed at Charlie. They were biased toward Multiverse gaming, junk food and thrash metal bands (she had Ben to thank for getting Charlie into heavy music). There were people everywhere, shouting, screaming, and running. From the way they acted they didn’t look like players. Louisa guessed they were NPCs, or Non Player Characters, generated by the game engine.

  She couldn’t see Charlie, and had begun to think the game had made a mistake and dumped her at a random location when a huge figure thundered past. Charlie’s seven-foot tall soldier avatar carried an oversized black rifle and was clad in blue body armour with a visored helmet. She followed him, tugged along as if connected by an invisible rope.

  He headed in the direction of a suspension bridge, visible in the distance. Sunlight glittered on the river and a large blue flag attached to one of the bridge’s towers fluttered in a stiff breeze. Louisa was about to shout at him when the windows blew out on the fifth floor of a nearby skyscraper. A violent detonation followed. NPCs cowered under the hail of glass and masonry that rained down, slicing to the bone and shattering limbs. Louisa winced at the graphic display. Charlie had somehow disabled the game’s age restrictions. She’d have to have words with him later.

  NPCs poured from the damaged building’s lobby, shoving each other aside in their haste to escape. A pretty young woman wearing high heels fell to the pavement with a cry, clutching her ankle. A fridge-sized chunk of rubble slammed into a parked car. There was a scream, and when the dust cleared Louisa saw a young child inside, cowering in the back seat. An ear-splitting screech from above tore her attention from the NPCs. A huge slab of masonry had come loose. It leaned outward, casting a shadow over the woman and the car. People scattered. Louisa felt like running herself, but she remained glued in place.

  Charlie looked up at the precariously tilting masonry. The woman shouted at him for help. He hesitated, looking at the woman, then the car. With a metallic shriek the masonry detached itself from the building. Charlie sprang toward the car and grabbed hold of the door handle. With a whirring noise his gauntleted hand crushed the metal like it was aluminium foil. He tore off the door and flung it across the street. Reaching inside, he grabbed the child and jumped clear. The woman’s scream cut off as the concrete hit with a colossal boom. A cloud of dust billowed outward.

  A grey-haired woman ran up to Charlie. The child cried out and reached for her. The woman babbled her thanks as Charlie handed over the child and set off down the street at a fast run. Louisa floated after.

  Now she knew why Charlie liked the game so much. It was like starring in an action movie. But she’d seen more than enough. ‘Charlie, time’s up,’ she called.

  ‘Aw, Mum!’ Charlie’s avatar didn’t stop running. ‘I’m in the middle of a match. It’s a scheduled clan offensive for this planetary system. There’re over a hundred thousand players jacked in and our clan’s getting trashed. Five more minutes, please!’

  Louisa had heard Charlie’s “five more minutes” countless times before. Before she could reply another soldier clad in red armour burst out of a side street and ploughed into her son. They fell to the tarmac and Charlie’s rifle flew from his hands.

  ‘Charlie, I’m serious. You’ve got five seconds to disconnect before I broadcast a message to everyone in your team telling them your mummy’s come to collect you.’ The red soldier rolled on top of Charlie, pulled a knife from a sheath and plunged it downwards. Charlie latched onto the soldier’s wrist. The knife tip hovered an inch above his throat. ‘Five,’ Louisa said, ‘four...three...two—’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Charlie said.

  The game melted away and Louisa found herself once again in Charlie’s bedroom. He sat up and groaned, clutching his head. Louisa eyed him suspiciously. ‘How long were you playing?’

  ‘An hour, tops. Since I got back from school.’

  Full immersion wasn’t without its risks. The first immersion-related death had happened less than a month after the first Multiverse game came out. A college student had played for five days straight with no sleep. The stress on his body was such that he’d suffered heart failure. Now every game monitored its player’s health as a background process. Every implant type had access to basic health data like blood pressure and heart rate. If a gamer’s vitals dropped too low the game ejected them and notified emergency services.

  ‘Well no more games for the rest of the night,’ Louisa said. ‘Your evening’s schedule now comprises dinner, homework, and bed, in that order.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Charlie knew better than to argue. Not if he wanted to play again any time soon. He stretched out his arms and yawned.

  ‘Charlie, have you heard from Ben at all?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not for a few weeks. We were supposed to meet up for a match last Friday but he didn’t show.’

  ‘When you saw him last, did he seem all right?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘He’s busy. A new clan asked him to join. They’re hardcore gamers, and super strict about who they let in. My Multiverse score’s nowhere near high enough.’

  She subvocalised. ‘Call Ben.’ A phone icon flashed before her. After a few seconds it went through to voice mail. She tried to remember when she last spoke to him. He normally called every Sunday without fail. They’d chat about how his studies were progressing and whether he had enough money. The last time was... Well over two weeks ago. The Fletcher case had monopolised every spare moment. She’d been working the previous two weekends.

  ‘Is something wrong, Mum?’ Charlie asked.

  Louisa forced a smile. ‘No, nothing for you to worry about. I might pop out for a bit. Why don’t you run downstairs and order a takeaway with your sister.’

  Charlie sprang off the bed. ‘Can I choose?’

  ‘Sure, dear,’ Louisa said absently, ‘whatever you like.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Bennett. I-I don’t know where Ben is.’

  No student wanted a police officer turning up on their doorstep, especially if they’d taken drugs. And Kevin Lloyd, one of Ben’s flatmates, was most definitely high. His stammering and dilated pupils were proof enough, never mind the pungent whiff of marijuana emanating from the flat.

  ‘When did you last see him?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘The Saturday before last. Around lunchtime. He was heading into town to meet someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’ Kevin fidgeted constantly, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and he couldn’t meet her eyes for long.

  Louisa glanced over his shoulder. She could see the corner of an active wall screen through the living room door and into their small kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink. Kevin appeared to be alone. She was about to ask Kevin to let her in to look around, then changed her mind. Ben wouldn’t hide from her, and even if he were inside, Kevin would have made up a different story.

  ‘If he gets in touch,’ Louisa said, ‘you’ll call me straight away, won’t you?’

  ‘Sure, Mrs Bennett.’ Kevin’s smile of relief was watery as he closed the door.

  On the drive over, she’d been convinced she’d find Ben at home, jacked into a Multiverse game, oblivious to all the concern he’d caused. Now though, it was time to face the facts, if even Ben’s friends at college hadn’t seen him in over a week, something was wrong.

  When she first brought Ben home John had raised hell. Two hormonal teenagers living under the same roof? He painted an uncomfortable picture of an inevitable romance and teen pregnancy. She told her ex she’d speak with both of them. Jess had been mortified, of course, and refused to talk to her for a full week afterwards. Ben on the other hand listened to her concerns with a maturity beyond his years. He told her there was nothing to worry about, and she believed him for one simple rea
son, he still loved Claire.

  For a while it seemed like he’d put Claire’s death behind him. Occasionally however, like when a newscast dredged up the Portal leak again, Ben withdrew into himself. Sometimes for days at a time. Louisa first put his moods down to typical teenage angst. She’d suffered enough of Jess’ tantrums over the years for Ben’s behaviour not to worry her unduly. Then one day she found him crying, unable to stop, and unable to tell her what had upset him. Louisa realised then he needed help. She took Ben to her GP who arranged for him to see a psychologist.

  Although the therapy sessions and medication helped, she had Ed Cooley to thank the most for Ben’s recovery. She asked her former colleague if Ben could intern for the summer at Ed’s new company. For some inexplicable reason Ben and Ed hit it off straight away and the internship brought Ben out of his shell. He returned to playing with Charlie and teasing Jess like his illness had never happened. And he also displayed a real aptitude for programming. It was the reason he decided to apply for a computer science course in the first place. There were times though, when Ben thought no-one was paying attention, that his eyes would glaze over and he’d drift off, staring into nothing. Then Louisa knew he was thinking about Claire again.

  Back at her car Louisa connected to the MET Subnet. A thought crossed her mind. Maybe he has a new girlfriend. It might explain why he hadn’t been seen for a while. Please God, let him be shacked up with some girl. She filed a missing persons report on Ben using his Portal ID, then entered the date he went missing and his last known location. An automated routine created a new case file. Louisa picked it off the queue and assigned it to herself. Now Ben was officially on the system she could activate the case file’s sense explorer. She authorised full immersion and the car’s interior faded away.

  She stood outside Ben’s flat at midday, the sun shining. ‘Ten times playback,’ Louisa said.