The Sapporo Outbreak

by Craighead, Brian

  The group was waiting at the elevator bay on the 5th floor when Skinner spoke.

  "I'm sorry Ms Sakura, but I'm afraid I have to make another brief visit to the bathroom. Must be all this excitement!" Skinner flashed what he'd always considered his most charming smile, and was met with a steely glare.

  "I understand Professor, although I have to say I am under some time pressure and would be grateful if we could move swiftly on to the last stop for today."

  "Of course, I'll be as quick as I can - and I promise no more water from now on." Another boyish smile was greeted by Sakura's deadpan expression, although Skinner was pleased to see that Santos, standing just behind, was flashing a broad smile back at him.

  Skinner double-timed his way through the discrete door and into an immaculate, marble-tiled bathroom with a series of Warhol and Liechtenstein prints arranged along the washroom basins. Vines crawled along the walls while four floor-to-ceiling doors led into the cubicles. Skinner softly nudged open each door to confirm he was alone, before walking swiftly over to the sink.

  He examined his face on the backlit mirror. Oh man, he looked tired. His strawberry blond hair seemed even more ruffled than normal, his blue cotton shirt looked as if he'd slept in it.

  Skinner moved his face a little closer to the mirror, then opened his right eyelid wide with his left hand. Moving carefully, he gently pressed his right index finger on his eyeball and felt the iSight lens stick. He slowly pulled his finger back and examined the contact lens now on his finger. He could make out a tiny pattern of almost invisible lines swirling and circling over the surface, like a ghostly fingerprint. Arranged evenly around the circumference of the lens were a dozen tiny yellow dots - each with their own tiny lines connected to each other and into the 'fingerprint' itself.

  It really was a remarkable piece of technology. Although noticeably thicker than a traditional contact lens, it didn't feel uncomfortable in the eye. He had learned in a previous WhiteStar trip that this was due to a layer of nano particles which optimised the lens for the wearer's eye. For almost everyone, this made for a perfect fit. Most iSight players reported feeling comfortable within minutes of putting the lenses in for the first time. A tiny minority had pre-existing eye conditions which precluded wearing the lenses, or found the nano coating irritated the eyes and would need to be removed. In almost all cases, those who could not wear the lenses immediately adopted the iSight glasses. It was one of Tanaka's great boasts that iSight had by far the lowest 'drop-off rate' of any game in history. In effect, almost every player who tried iSight, never gave it up.

  Skinner pushed his finger under the sink's large stainless steel tap, blasted out cold water and the lens disappeared. He quickly and silently repeated the process with his other lens, rubbed his eyes and stood back.

  The large pop art posters were gone as too were the vines and the marble floor. Even the large cedar doors had revealed themselves to be modest whitewashed concrete.

  Skinner felt a surge of nausea. His heart started racing. He felt panicked. Disoriented. He missed the lenses - they had become a comforting presence. He didn't just miss the 'reality plus' experience the lenses created, he also missed 'Jo'. He missed the subtle, ever-present transparent bubbles of information, guides and personal messages that would fade in and out of his lateral vision. He bent almost double, and splashed cold water onto his face and focused hard on slowing down his breathing. A minute later he was starting to feel better.

  Skinner stepped back from the sink, its industrial tub and fittings a sharp contrast from the designer fittings he'd first seen. He shook his head again, his breathing under control as he came to terms with his stripped down surroundings.

  Skinner pressed a finger over the thin, wide band of plastic wrapped around his left wrist, and the flexible mobile phone sprang to life. A few more swipes and he could hear the phone ringing through the jawbone speaker clipped onto his wisdom tooth.

  The familiar rumbling voice of Steve Clark answered.

  "Ben, you may not be as smart as I am and you're definitely not as pretty as I am, but man you certainly do have great timing."

  Skinner spoke urgently, subconsciously lowering his voice despite being alone.

  "Listen Steve, I'm going to have to make this quick. I'm pretty sure we can draw a direct line between this game and the attacks. I know it sounds crazy but ..."

  Clark interrupted. "That's why I'm calling. I think you're right. Your gaming buddies are involved somehow. I have no idea how or why - yet - but there's an awful lot of coincidences popping up. And I'm not a big believer in coincidence."

  A couple of years back the men had bonded over a particularly nasty case in San Francisco and he'd seen how Clark operated first hand. It was impressive. Skinner had watched as the big man relentlessly dug through the facts, letting the evidence lead the way. He wouldn't be influenced or swayed by anyone - outside or inside the department. He was methodical. Relentless. And when he'd decided who the bad guys were he was swift and ruthless. As far as Skinner was concerned, Clark was the best homicide detective he'd ever met, and a man he'd much rather fight with than against.

  "What do you mean Steve? What have you found?"

  "Well, it's Wednesday night here, midnight in New York and really early Thursday morning in London - so it took me a while to piece this together, but I think I can see a picture now."

  "Go on". Skinner felt his stomach tighten. His breath quickened. He felt a nagging sense of ... inevitability. As if he knew what the detective was about to say but didn't want to hear it.

  "Ben, so far I've found recent attacks in New York and London that seem to match the Palo Alto profile."

  Clark's voice was fading in and out. Skinner pressed the phone harder against his ear.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Not yet, but when our friends in London get back to me that might change. I'm also waiting for forensics. I'll have a better idea in the next hour. But what I've seen, read - and what my gut tells me - is that these attacks are very similar."

  "It's interesting Steve, but what's the connection?"

  "Well - at the same time as reports of similar attacks have been coming in, there's been a flurry of 'industrial accidents' reported at WhiteStar centres. Four in six weeks to be exact - from a company that hasn't reported any issue for over two years. One guy - in the same centre you're in now - died just two days ago. They say it was some sort of freak electrical and mechanical failure - but it's got the ring of be B.S to me. It's a bunch of whirring and blinking computers for Christ's sake - not some building site or oil rig. I know what a good forensic report looks like, and this one was unusually brief.

  "The thing that's nagging most at me though, is how fast everything was done. Forensics next day, cremation the day after."

  "Wait. Why's a fast cremation such a big deal?"

  "Well - you remember Kyoko?"

  The phone crackled, the noise on the line now a constant buzz.

  "Oh yeah - I remember. Another in a long line of women far too good for you."

  Clark snorted. "You're so wrong professor. My problem is finding anyone who's good enough for me." Clark let out a short, rumbling laugh before continuing. "Well, I called her to ask about it and ..."

  "You called Kyoko? Oh man Steve, you are a brave man!"

  Clark groaned. "Yeah Ben, she wasn't too thrilled to hear from me. But after a few minutes telling me all the ways her new man is better than me, she did help out. She was a first generation American, and while we were dating her grandmother died. I remembered a lot of discussion about which day the cremation would take place. I particularly remember that the second day was no good. I asked Kyoko about it, and she told me that pretty much everyone in Japan cremates. But almost no one does so on the second day. It's the ..." Skinner could hear Clark pause to leaf through papers before continuing. "...Tomobiki. It's considered a very bad day to cremate - some superstition about 'bringing your friends with you' to death."

  "And so
you think somebody rushed to get rid of the body?"

  "Yeah - that's right Professor. As far as I'm concerned, this one now has big, bright flashing lights on it. Whatever the hell is happening, my gut tells me WhiteStar are somehow involved."

  Skinner paused as Clark's words sunk in. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "There's something else isn't there Steve?"

  "Man - am I getting that predictable? Well - now that you mention it there is - I've left the best for last. I'm trying to get this one confirmed, but working all this Interpol stuff from Santa Clara 'aint easy man. I'm dropping your name like crazy. In fact I'm pretty sure the Germans think they're talking to you!"

  "Germans? What the hell has Germany got to do with this?"

  Clark's voice faded completely for a second, before returning fainter still.

  "... I said, what I'm hearing is that a couple of hours ago the head of Tanaka's German operation walked in to a Berlin police station with her lawyer to make some sort of statement."

  "Any idea what that's about?"

  "Not yet, but believe me I'm working on it."

  Skinner shook his head at the news. It was worse, much worse, than he'd expected.

  "Ok - thanks Steve. I've run out of time and gotta go, but what I can tell you is that every crazy thing you've just told me makes perfect sense. I've got a theory that feels less and less ridiculous by the minute."

  "Care to share it with me Professor?"

  "Not yet Steve, it's a bit half-baked. Give me an hour, I've got one last thing to checkout then I'll make my excuses and call you. But Steve, if it's what I think it is, this thing is enormous. No one - and I mean no one - is going to want to believe it. Are you ready for a fight big man?"

  "I hope you're not serious my pencil-necked brother. Just you call me back in an hour and let's compare notes. I don't care who we piss off, this thing has got to stop."

  "I'm with you Steve - talk again soon when the line is a little better."

  Skinner was just about to hang up when he heard the detective's voice boom.

  "Ben?Hey Ben! Two more things before you go ..."

  "Yeah Steve?"

  "I probably should have mentioned - every one of the attacks occurred within a few kilometres of a WhiteStar research centre."

  Skinner nodded silently to himself, no longer surprised by the news. "And what's the other thing?"

  "Well, as far as I can tell, every attacker was also a volunteer game-tester at a nearby WhiteStar testing centre."

  Just then, the call dropped out. Skinner examined his cell phone. No signal. The blizzard, Skinner guessed. Either that, or it had started snowing in space.

  #

  Skinner hustled back to the group bunched by the elevator bank. Santos and Hill were deep in animated conversation while Harper stood several steps away from the group, his eyes fixed on the elevator bank. Sakura was rocking on her heels and, for the first time was visibly angry at the delay.

  As Skinner reached the group, Santos turned away from her conversation with Hill. She reached out and lightly gripped his elbow while looking into his eyes. "Everything alright Ben?"

  Skinner felt a jolt of energy, the same one he always felt when the beautiful doctor touched him. He could feel Sakura glare at him as she hustled the others toward the elevators. His eyes narrowed as he gave one quick, curt shake of his head.

  Santos examined the professor. His easy-going demeanour had gone - replaced by a man driven to act. She had seen this before - she'd seen how quickly he could switch from genial professor to a resolute, grimly determined criminologist. She had to find time to talk to him, find out what Clark had said.

  Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

  The glass elevator doors swished open, and Sakura almost pushed the group in. She whispered an instruction and the elevator whisked its way down two short floors, coming to a halt on level 3 - game immersion.

  #

  2:50pm Thursday, Level 3 Game Immersion, Sapporo (Minus 10 Minutes)

  The group spilled out of the elevator and into a large communal area, beyond which a wide corridor split two white walls and disappeared into the distance.

  Santos scanned the gleaming white tiles on the floor and wall of white stretching from east to west, brightly lit by rows of LEDs embedded into the ceiling tiles. It felt like an expensive Beverly Hills clinic pampering the rich and famous rather than the proving ground for an online game. She swivelled her head left and right. There were no security guards. No security doors. Surprisingly, other than the ever present cameras embedded into every ceiling light, there was no visible security at all. It struck her as a little surprising, particularly given the over-the-top security she'd witnessed elsewhere.

  The open area they stood in was dotted with deep leather couches and armchairs, along the right side (or east as iSight insisted) was a long bench filled with bowls of fruit, nuts, pre-made sandwiches, biscuits and more - enough to feed a small army. Underneath the long bench were row upon row of glass-fronted fridges filled with soft drinks and bottled water. Dotted around the area - some relaxing on the couches, others milling around the food talking in small groups, were men and women, boys and girls. Asian, black and white. Men in suits mingled with leather-clad teens and smartly dressed women. There was something oddly forced - determinedly diverse - about the scene. Santos smiled wryly to herself, unsurprised to see iSight information bubbles suddenly float in the space ahead, using small graphs to illustrate how closely today's group of game testers mirrored the spread of age, ethnicity and lifestyle of the game's worldwide audience.

  Without question, the most striking feature was the digital wall.

  Stretching to her right (or east as an iSight bubble helpfully prompted) and left (west) of the communal area were large, solid whitewashed walls that had been transformed by iSight into massive real-time information boards. Resembling an enormous airport flight board, each wall displayed brightly-coloured floating dates, times and descriptions. While the schedules displayed on two thirds of the giant wall space, the final third was taken up by an endless series of short video messages. Some explained the area to new visitors, others described the testing process. Sandwiched between were videos extolling the virtues of the impending iSight 3 game and the philanthropic activities of WhiteStar. All were delivered by a parade of smiling and beautiful young women.

  Santos flicked her eyes quickly up and to the right, and in a transparent bubble iSight helpfully explained that the information displayed was the training room schedules. Santos examined the scrolling ticker, and immediately recognised a familiar series of categories of social interaction being tested.

  Yellow- Exchange || Advanced (14:00 − 16:00)

  White - Reciprocity || Intermediate (14:30 − 16:30)

  Blue - Competition || Intermediate (14:00 − 15:00)

  Red - Conflict || Intermediate (14:00 − 16:00)

  Green - Conflict || Beginner (14:30 − 15:30)

  Brown - Arbitration || Intermediate (14:30 − 16:00)

  Orange - Compromise || Beginner (13:00 − 15:00)

  Black - Mediation || Advanced (14:30 − 17:00)

  Santos felt a little overwhelmed by it all. The scale of the room. The odd forced diversity of the group. The massive scrolling screens flicking and flashing schedules and directions, interspersed with 3D videos floating out into the room. The contrast between this futuristic scene and the utter normality of the occupants seemed truly bizarre.

  Sakura took a few quick strides forward, pivoted and turned to address the group.

  "Welcome to the last stop on today's tour of the facility. You are now standing in the rest hall - a communal space for our volunteer and professional game testers to relax between sessions. This floor is dedicated to researching new features and testing new characters, scenarios and worlds before they are released to the world. It's what we call the 'Game Immersion Lab' - and we consider this to be one of the most important areas in our entire organisation. Every WhiteStar centre aroun
d the world has a near identical game immersion lab which - for the last few months - has been operating twenty four hours a day testing the impending release of iSight 3.0.