"Everyone. Quickly. Follow me. Do not delay or you will die".
#
Despite the darkness, the NOC was humming with activity. Technicians scrambled under desks, jerry-rigged computers using their cell phones as a power source and gathered together in small groups discussing possible defence strategies.
Ignoring the activity all around, Tait and Tanaka crouched over one of the few working monitors in the darkened NOC, and watched as numbers poured across the screen. They were looking for patterns the virus had left behind as it wormed its way through the iSight system.
"There! Stop it right there!"
Tait jabbed his finger onto the touchscreen, and the scrolling display froze instantly. To almost anyone, it was simply a dense pattern of code and numbers, but to Tait and Tanaka it was a footprint.
Tanaka turned to Tait with a mixture of confusion and concern. The population system was a complex one, constantly tracking the number and nature of the players in the game, automatically generating new virtual players to maintain a balance. The goal was to have the iSight 3 population mirror the real world in every way.
But something was very, very wrong.
Since the attack, there had been an explosion in the number of virtual players generated by the system.
Tait glanced around the room, before turning to Tanaka and whispering, "They've modified Becker's artificial intelligence system. Somehow they've got the virtual players replicating and evolving to give them a better chance of staying in the game."
Tanaka nodded as he stared at the screen.
"But why? These mutations are creating characters designed to survive whatever the cost. They're creating killers."
Tanaka looked down at his cell phone. Still no signal. All he could think of was Shou, his beautiful daughter. He had to get her off the system before the virus spread.
Tanaka looked back up at Tait. "Get Becker. Find out what the hell they've done to the AI system - and how we reverse it."
Tait flicked up his iSight conferencing system and tried connecting to Becker.
No response.
He tried with the fixed line.
No response.
As a last resort, Tait turned to the battery powered tablet and, after a few quick tweaks, managed to buzz Becker's tablet computer directly.
No response.
Tait turned to Tanaka and shook his head slowly.
Tanaka crashed his fist onto the steel desk in frustration.
"What in the hell is going on?"
#
Crouched low and moving slowly, silently, Skinner held a dazed and bloodied Santos by the waist as they slowly edged their way through the darkness and toward the emergency exit. A few steps ahead, Skinner could make out the bulky form of Itou, followed closely by Hill and Harper. Silhouetted by the dim glow of the exit's LED lights, Skinner could see the young lawyer's head swivelling anxiously from left to right. To his right, Harper's tall frame hunched down awkwardly. While Hill seemed close to losing it altogether, Harper remained placid, curiously detached from their grim reality.
Pressed in tight to Skinner, Santos whispered, "Ben, I'm feeling dizzy. Sick. I'm guessing shock or concussion. Feels like I might faint."
"Don't worry Eva. I've got you and I won't let go."
Loud, gruesome cries of new anguish rang out through the darkness. Howls of laughter and the awful sound of flesh pounding flesh thudded through the air. It sounded close.
"Ben ..."
"Just try to keep going Eva. Another few seconds and we'll be in the stairwell and on our way out of here."
Seconds later Itou walked calmly back up the darkened corridor.
They were close now. Maybe ten seconds from the exit, and the glow from the door created a shallow, eery semi-circle of twilight. At the far edges of the lit area, Skinner could make out a group of five or six young men thrashing two middle aged men with armrests torn from some of the plush leather seats. No one made any noise. It was a gruesome one-sided fight acted out in near silence - the only sounds were the grunting of the men and the sickening thuds as blows rained down.
One of the middle aged men - a balding, paunchy man with dark rimmed glasses slanted and smashed against his face - was on his knees, trying in vain to fight back through the blows. The other - a tall, lean man in a tailored grey suit - was on all fours, stunned and staring down at the tiles. As Skinner watched, the youngest attacker - a slight Japanese boy of maybe fourteen - swung the heavy weapon high above his head and then back down hard and fast. The crushing blow landed on the back of the man's head, who slumped to the floor bleeding badly. Even in the murky gloom Skinner could tell the man was dead, and yet the young boy continued to pound at the man's lifeless body.
The boy laughed breathlessly as he pounded again and again on the wet flesh of the dead man.
Skinner turned away, pulled Santos tight and pushed forward silently. What the hell is this? Somehow, the game has triggered some sort of enraged mass hysteria. A psychosis.
Madness.
Skinner could see that Itou had reached the exit door and had nudged it open. Skinner watched as Hill pushed past Itou, through the emergency exit and into the stairwell beyond. Itou continued to hold the door, waving for Skinner and Santos. Harper turned and watched blankly as Skinner pulled Santos forward. She was almost out on her feet now, almost a dead weight in his hands. The last few feet were painfully slow.
A loud piercing scream cut through the blackness. Itou and Harper looked past Skinner and Santos, a grim resolve etched on Itou's face. Instinctively Skinner twisted back toward the sound. Peering down through the dimly lit rest area, he could make out fleeting undefined shadows in the near distance. A second later they were closer still and the shadows took form.
A large pack of around twenty infected players were walking toward him, eyes red-raw and clothes blood splattered and torn. Once again Skinner was struck by the surreality, the bizarre everyday normality. A small Japanese woman in her 50s walked alongside an eager black teenager. In one hand, she held a vicious shard of glass. In the other she held a department store shopping bag, a pink silk bow flowing out from the top. A greying, podgy Caucasian man fussily adjusted his red silk tie as he walked forward. He ignored the gaping scar sliced under his left eye as it leaked onto his expensive white shirt. They could be shoppers in a busy mall. Only they were armed with a collection of broken office furniture or large shards of thick broken glass.
Leading the murderous mob was Sakura's killer, the brutal shaven headed pack leader. He let out a guttural roar and started running toward their small group. Skinner turned and felt Santos slip. She had passed out, a dead weight in his hands. He'd never be able to get her to the exit in time.
Skinner pulled Santos in tight and closed his eyes, waiting for the mob to descend.
Suddenly, he felt Santos lighten and lift. He opened his eyes, turned to his right and saw Harper holding Santos under her right shoulder. With a quick nod of appreciation, Skinner and Harper surged forward.
The pack was almost on them when Itou jumped in behind them, grabbed the exit door and swung it shut. With a swift, practiced movement, Itou jammed a steel bar up through the handle and twisted. The vicious pack slammed against the door. They screamed in fury as they pounded on the heavy steel surface.
Skinner blinked at the brightness of the emergency lighting in the stairwell. Stretching below and above them were stark grey concrete stairs leading up and down. Grey concrete walls and ceiling completed the prison-block look, the only markings visible were painted Japanese and English numbers on the door. Dim emergency lighting on the ceiling performed a barely adequate job of lighting the corridor.
For Skinner, it was another glimpse behind the futuristic illusion Tanaka has created. This could be any building, anywhere - just another generic concrete fire exit. No glasses or lenses needed here.
Santos groaned, opened her eyes with a start and turned first to Harper and then Skinner.
"
What happened?"
"You passed out for a second Eva. If it wasn't for Andy, we wouldn't have made it."
Santos turned back to Harper, who gave a little grin as he gently unwrapped his arm from her. "And you thought I wasn't paying attention."
Santos smiled weakly. "Thanks Andy, I really appre ..."
Satisfied the door would hold for a minute or two, Itou turned to the huddled group and in broken english barked, "We will go to the NOC on level 5. Follow me ... move fast" and with that he sprang up the concrete stairs connecting all floors. Dazed but recovering, Santos grabbed Skinner by the hand and started up the stairs. Harper followed close behind.
Itou pounded up the first few stairs closely followed by Hill, Harper and Santos - who looked stronger. Skinner brought up the rear. A piercing scream echoed up from the dark stairwell below and stopped the group in their tracks. Another muffled scream was followed by a sickening cheer as another pack gathered in the dark beneath their feet.
Itou waved frantically to catch the group's attention, and put his fingers to his lips before continuing upwards - this time being careful to make no sound. Hill followed only inches behind with Harper, Santos and Skinner creeping up at the rear.
As they reached the fourth floor platform, turned and began walking up into the dim corridor, a broken body fell silently from somewhere above. Skinner felt the rush of stale air as the broken corpse whistled past. He thought he recognised the man - one of Tanaka's guards from the visitors' quarters. Skinner looked up and saw a cloud pass over Itou before he returned to his impassive expression. A moment later the body landed with a dead slap on the concrete below and the packs above and below them howled and whistled in gruesome delight.
Torn between what might be above, and what was definitely below, the tension was too much for Hill.
"Get out of my way" he screamed as he barged past Itou and up into the dim stairwell above.
For a split second, Hill's words echoed through the silent stairwell. Then a primal howl from below and above broke the silence and countless infected started sprinting up from the 3rd floor and down from the 6th.
Abandoning any attempt at stealth, Itou crouched then launched himself at the emergency exit. The door burst open, and they all spilled forward into the darkness beyond.
Impassive as always, Itou turned to the group.
"Follow me. There's another stairwell past Doctor Becker's Lab. Move quickly. If you fall behind I cannot help."
Without waiting for a response, Itou darted into the darkened floor beyond with Hill inches behind.
Harper, Skinner and Santos glanced at each other as the first of the chasing packs arrived at the door.
#
10:30pm Thursday, Seattle, Washington
Lewis Dodgson walked over to the large bay window of his Roy Street apartment and listened to the muffled mix of student music and chatter as it drifted up from the bar next door. He watched as a blue electric car cautiously edged its way down the snow-covered road in near silence. Dodgson watched the snow fall and felt his anger rise again. Anger at the faceless corporations like WhiteStar that silently tracked every move. What they read. What they watched. What they listened to. What they looked for and what they bought. Who their friends and family were. What they liked and disliked. Who and what they agreed with.
Who they were.
Everyday people looked for a place to escape from the pressures and disappointments of everyday life. To swap their colourless world for a bigger, brighter, bolder virtual world. To do things they wouldn't dare to in the real world. To pretend. To play games. Little by little, people gave up everything about themselves, teased, tricked, and misled by organisations like WhiteStar. Giant monoliths swallowing every little detail. Corporations that never slept and never forgot.
Dodgson shook his head in disgust. People trusted WhiteStar with their information - and in return WhiteStar bundled it up and sold it to the highest bidder.
And yet, while the drunks lingered in the bar next door and the rest of Seattle slept, he knew that, together with his ANONet colleagues, he had struck a great blow for freedom and liberty. He felt sure panic and confusion had set in at WhiteStar as the scale and elegance of the attack sunk in. They would know that their precious new game had been stripped free of its insidious identify theft and was spreading freely across the planet.
Dodgson knew that almost every iSight 2 player - over 300 million of them - would now be immersed in the new, anarchic iSight 3. He knew that they would soon be joined by a rush of first time players, flooding to the revolutionary - and now free - iSight 3 game. Over 700 million people around the world owned glasses or lenses capable of playing the game. Dodgson felt sure almost all of them would join the game in the next 24 hours. They'd come for the revolutionary experience. They'd come to join their friends. They'd come because it was free.
A sudden rush of excitement sent shivers racing through his body. He couldn't wait any longer - he had to join the game and see for himself just how quickly it had spread. He wanted to join other players around the world in experienced the rush of excitement as they experience true virtual freedom for the first time.
Dodgson walked back to the enormous desk and slid open a thin drawer on his right. He took out a white plastic box the size of his palm and opened it to reveal his iSight 3 soft contact lenses. Checking his cell phone was on and running iSight 3, Dodgson inserted the left, and then the right lens.
He waited a few seconds while the lenses connected to his cell phone and the kinetic energy of his blinking fired up the lenses.
And then the world changed.
The ANONet-stripped iSight 3 system sprang to life, immediately augmenting his apartment with his personal preferences. He looked around his apartment. A beautiful woman and two young men were whispering in the corner of his apartment. Dodgson smiled - even he found it hard to tell which characters were human and which were virtual characters generated by the game.
Dodgson smiled and walked over to the three 'people'.
As he approached he knew something wasn't right. The young men look different - more angular. The beautiful young woman seemed - intense. They were staring at him and, a split second later, they were standing in front of him, the men either side of the odd young woman. She seemed to float in front of his eyes. Her long black hair fell across her athletic form, and her dark eyes stared into his. She was menacingly beautiful.
Briefly unnerved, Dodgson hesitated for a second before asking her name. She looked blankly back at him as if she hadn't heard the question. Damn, something had screwed up. What had he missed?
He turned and spoke to the two hawkish young men and again got no response. He tried a different approach, and instructed them to sit. Again, the same blank stare.
Something was definitely wrong. His heart was pumping hard and fast. He could feel himself start to sweat.
A sudden movement to his right caught his eye. Dodgson turned to see the young man's head jerk and snap unnaturally, like a bird of prey surveying the scene. Just then, the man to his left arched violently, his face distorted and teeth bared. The beautiful woman in front began convulsing, and as she did her hair grew wilder, her skin more haggard, her fingers longer. Dodgson couldn't speak. Couldn't move. He watched on in horror at her transformation into a mangled razor thin old woman. Her face twisted by age and fury, the woman leaned in until her nose brushed against Dodgson's and then she screamed.
He retched at her stinking breath, and wheeled wide-eyed in terror as he saw the murderous intent on the disfigured creatures beside him. They lunged forward.
Dodgson turned and ran.
He ran past the kitchen grabbing a long bread knife on the way. He burst out into the icy air and felt the creatures chasing behind. They were close. Almost upon him.
The Sapporo Outbreak Page 24