Multiplayer

by John C. Brewer

  “And you’re that person?” said Sabrah dubiously. Why was he doing this? Did he really want to help? Or was he after something else and trying to get her to trust him? “Why do you care so much what happens to me? I don’t even know who you are, and I’m not going to tell you who I am so don’t ask. We’re just virtual characters in a digital world. None of this is real.”

  “I disagree,” Thrylos said. “In some ways, this is more real than the world we live in everyday, where every interaction has a mask. Every statement, every look has a double meaning. Each action is weighed for its impact. There is what we say, and there is what we mean, and they are rarely the same thing. Would you and I be having this discussion if we had met in the park? I can tell by your voice you are a young woman – probably less than eighteen. You should be able to tell I am an older man. In the ‘real’ world, this conversation could not happen. It would be unseemly. But none of that matters here. We can be closer to our true selves here in this digital world than we are in what we call reality. The very fact we are wearing the masks of our characters allows us to remove the masks from our being.”

  At those words, Veyron stood as if lost in thought. Or at least, Sabrah didn’t touch the controller. She stared at the screen, at the old man. For a moment, she struggled to remain strong, in control, but then felt the mask slip from her. And the tears streamed down her face.

  Ch. 18

  The words of al-Nib kept rattling around in Hector’s head as he tossed in his sheets. Operation Scimitar. Travel visas. Rehearsal. Izaak and his Spartans. Why were they paying GoreFiendHell? Why didn’t they want him seeing them practice? And the man in black said they had, “… terminated several players who knew too much,” or something like that. Like they’d terminated the player, not the character. As in… dead? Couldn’t be. Maybe he was getting paranoid. But whatever Operation Scimitar was, it didn’t sound like a game. These guys were taking it seriously – even more than GoreFiendHell was about his invasion of Athens.

  The longer Hector lay there, the more anxious he became. When the sheets grew damp from sweat he hurled the covers aside and sprang out of bed in a single motion. It was nearly midnight and he crept to the end of the hall. He could see a light on in the den so he padded down the stairs and peeked in.

  His mother was sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest, watching coverage of some conflict somewhere as usual. She and his father used to sit together, like that, and now she looked so alone. Hector felt bad for the trouble he had caused, and for disappointing her. That was the last thing any of them needed.

  She turned and looked at him, quickly wiping away the glistening streaks on her cheeks. She’d been crying. Hector’s stomach knotted in guilt as she smiled and patted the sofa. “Can’t sleep?”

  “No,” he said, and plopped down by her side.

  “Me neither,” she said, turning down the television.

  He glanced at the wet streaks on her face. “Were you thinking about Dad?”

  They sat for a few minutes watching. Then his mother said, “Your father used to get so mad when one of you would show up after going to bed.” She smiled, remembering it. “Because he was gone so often, he was jealous of the time we had together. After you guys went to bed was ‘our’ time.”

  “I never noticed,” said Hector.

  “He loved you very much, Hector.” She ran her fingers through his hair and Hector could tell she was gathering her strength. “What’s the matter, hotshot?”

  Hector shrugged. “Must’ve been the tea I had for dinner.”

  “It was decaffeinated.” She prodded him with her eyes.

  Hector tried to ignore it, but knew it was no use. “Omega Wars.”

  “Your game? What about it?”

  “We’re – my group and I, the Spartans – we’re in Alanya. I told you and Pappous about it.”

  She nodded. “Go on.”

  “Well we’ve been there for a couple of days and tonight … tonight I heard some characters saying some stuff that sounded – I don’t know. Just didn’t sound right.”

  She lurched upright, and her voice filled with concern. “Did they try to find out who you were? Where you live? I knew those games were dangerous. Did you report it?”

  “Mom,” he crooned. “Nothing like that. They didn’t even know I was there. It was more like – you’re going to be mad.” She frowned and beckoned for him to go on, as if trying to coax him out onto a suspension bridge over a deep crevasse. “Well,” he finally continued, “it was sort of, terroristy-ish. Like they were planning something… a terror… a terrorist… terroristy… thing.”

  “Thing?” Her face went blank. “Let me guess, the characters you’re playing against are… Muslims perhaps? Middle Eastern maybe?”

  Hector shrugged. “Some of them.”

  “Hector Franklin West!” she blasted, then quieted her voice. “You know what happened last time you let your imagination run wild. The FBI! Mr. Zahedi!”

  “But they were talking about this Operation Scimitar, and people traveling there. It was really creepy. Especially after hearing this guy called al-Nib. He was scary, Mom. Like he was… I don’t know.” Even now the memory of his voice made Hector’s skin crawl.

  “It’s a game,” she snapped. “A video game. And you are taking it too seriously because you are playing it way too much. You’re starting to think it’s real. You’re going to take a break, Hector,” she said, and she said it in a way that wasn’t negotiable. “I don’t care what the psychologist said. The game isn’t going to go anywhere. You’re still behind in algebra. You need to work on your Alanya report.”

  “But I –”

  “No buts. I should have done this a long time ago.” Her voice said it was a command. “You’re going to take some time off from Omega Wars. Your grades are suffering. You’ve been in trouble. And now you’re seeing terrorists in the game.”

  Hector frowned. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound a bit strange.”

  “Try it on my end,” his mother said sternly. “Your son comes and tells you there are terrorists in the video game he’s playing.”

  They both laughed. She put her arm around him and squeezed. “I love you,” she said. “And we’re going to get through this. And because you’re going to take a day off. Maybe even two. Maybe a whole week. You might just discover a world out there. Just don’t call the FBI on the neighbors again.”

  “There’s nothing to do outside,” he groaned.

  “How would you know? You haven’t been out there in such a long time.”

  “I have some new friends. Deion’s never home but maybe they go outside.”

  “New friends?” His mom used her suspicious voice.

  “Yeah,” he didn’t want to say their names. “You know, Sabrah and Chaz.”

  “What about Sanjar Zahedi?” said his mother. “He’s always in his yard kicking the ball or building something.”

  Hector shrugged. “Sanjar makes me… uncomfortable.” He evaded his mother’s gaze. “Well, what’s wrong with Sabrah and Chaz?” he finally challenged.

  “What’s wrong?” she stammered. “What’s right? They’re just not the kind of people you need to be spending your time with. Chaz has a reputation for getting into trouble, and Sabrah – any young lady who dresses like that is no lady. So if you –”

  Hector’s blood pressure spiked. “Sabrah and Chaz are some of the nicest people I know.”

  “If you want to play video games with them, fine. But as far as hanging out with them, I just don’t think they’re the best choice.”

  “Mom, you’re wrong about them,” Hector replied. “If you just –”

  “I said no, and that’s final.” She set her face. “I forbid you to see those people.”

  “You can’t do that!” Hector blurted, cheeks suddenly flushed.

  “I can and I will. I know what’s best for you here. You don’t always have to like my decisions, you just have to abide by them.”r />
  She might be his mother, but she had no right to do this! “But… but –”

  “Buts can go on all night long, son. I think you should go back to bed. It’s late.”

  “I can’t sleep now!”

  “Go.” She pointed up the stairs. “How can you get A’s if you don’t get your sleep?”

  Hector stood up and shook he was so angry, then finally turned and stomped up the stairs. “Love you,” she called sweetly after him.

  “You got a funny way of showing it,” he snarled to himself.

  Ch. 19

  “Chaz is dead.” Hector dropped his tray onto the lunch table with a clatter. Deion and Sabrah looked up at him. Sanjar sat not far away. He glanced at Hector and smiled weakly. Hector flashed him a fake smile. “I mean, Rada is dead,” he sat down, wondering why Sanjar kept hanging out with them. He was obviously not wanted.

  “How?” said Deion, leaning in close.

  “It was my fault. He and I, me and her, whatever, went up to the castle last night. We took the little boat. Didn’t bring it back. Tell Alkindi I’m sorry. Dude’s awesome, by the way.” Hector chuckled, then went on to tell them about the clash and some of the things he’d heard.

  “That’s weird,” said Sabrah, when he’d finished. “Why would that al-Nib creep be paying the Reavers to guard Alanya?”

  “And what’s Operation Scimitar?” asked Deion.

  “I thought about it a lot last night, and it has to be some sort of raid,” said Hector. “Probably on Athens, and probably using that portable gate. But they’re practicing so they won’t get whacked.”

  “Well then al-Nib is going to be watching the sea now, too,” said Deion. “So we’ll need that submarine. Me and Alkindi will work on it while Izaak is on vacation.”

  “I’m not on vacation,” said Hector. “Just taking a break.”

  “Isn’t that what a vacation is?”

  “At least it explains where Rada was last night,” said Sabrah. “And why Izaak was out of his armor.”

  “You went to Alanya last night?” asked Hector, a little surprised. He didn’t think Sabrah was interested enough to log in by herself.

  Sabrah nodded, and looked down, like she was suddenly engrossed in a big bite of sloppy, school spaghetti. “Must have been after you guys finished,” she mumbled, with her mouth full and noodles drooped over her lips.

  “Was anybody else there?” asked Hector, surprised by Sabrah’s lapse of manners. He would have expected that from Deion. But not from Sabrah.

  “Just a bunch of Reavers. So I just logged back out.”

  “What are you going to do about your armor?” asked Deion.

  “The Reavers have plenty of vanguards. I should be able to find a nice set. It’s actually a good thing, since Mal-X won’t recognize me.” He frowned and slapped himself on the thigh as a thought popped into his head. “Should have done that before our first visit. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  The bell rang and they went off to their classes. In algebra, he got back some homework on which he’d scored 19 out of 20, though he couldn’t imagine why knowing the equation for a line would ever be useful. In history class, they worked on their Middle East reports. Hector tried to get something up with Deion after school, but he had soccer practice. Hector felt like Deion’s dog and wondered if he needed to find a new friend.

  After school, he walked his little sister home and was reminded by his big sister he wasn’t supposed to be playing video games. Hector grunted, pulled on a T-shirt, grabbed his soccer ball, and went outside. The weather was perfect, not too hot or too cool, with a bright sun and a sky dotted with cotton balls. Sanjar was out in his backyard. Hector continued to be baffled he could play soccer in that dress he wore.

  “Hey, Hector,” he called. “Want to play some soccer?”

  “Maybe later,” Hector called back and left on his bicycle. “Maybe never.”

  There was a big concrete wall up at the school with green grass at its foot. Perfect for kicking a ball against. It was part of the playground so there was plenty of space and Hector could really kick the ball hard.

  He was just working up a sweat, when the custodian appeared. “Not supposed to be doing that,” he said.

  “It’s not going to hurt it,” Hector answered, patting the concrete.

  “It’s the rules.”

  “But they play wall-ball here all day long,” Hector protested.

  “I don’t make the rules, son.”

  “You ain’t my dad,” Hector grunted to himself, climbed back on his bike and pedaled down to the little-league park where there was a soccer field and goals. But when he arrived, he saw a sign that read “Reserved For League Use Only.” There was no one watching so he walked out on the field anyway and started kicking at the net. It wasn’t long before a city maintenance truck pulled up and a grungy man in coveralls climbed out.

  “Can’t you read, kid?” the man yelled. “Team use only!”

  So much for soccer, Hector thought, and strode off the field with his head down.

  He stopped at the Gas-n-Go for a drink and found Pappous and Mr. Zahedi at their little table playing checkers.

  “Hector my boy!” exclaimed Pappous, with his trademark toothy grin and eye-twinkle. “What are you up to on this fine day?”

  Hector grunted. So, Mr. Zahedi wasn’t a terrorist. The point was of little consequence to Hector. It was people like him who were blowing things up. People like him who’d murdered his dad. And still, Mr. Zahedi was his grandfather’s best friend. The old man could be a real idiot sometimes. “Just riding my bike,” he replied, as kindly as he could. He glanced at the checkerboard. “Who’s winning?”

  “Well, Leo is on a roll today,” answered Mr. Zahedi, staring at Hector with his good eye so that he squirmed. “Three games to one, already.”

  He didn’t answer but set his Gatorade on the counter. “I’ve got it,” said Pappous.

  The last thing Hector wanted was Pappous paying for anything. He stuck his hand into his pocket and came out with two dollars. “Thanks, anyway,” said Hector, and spread the rumpled bills on the counter.

  He wandered the streets aimlessly on his bike until he pedaled into an area where the houses looked different. There were more kids outside here but he didn’t know any of them. The houses didn’t seem as well kept and were older than in his neighborhood, more like the army housing he’d grown up in. He rode past several boys his age out in the street riding skateboards. They stopped and watched him pedal past. He wanted to stop but how was he supposed to meet them? There were kids on a trampoline in another backyard, and a group of girls jumping rope in a driveway.

  On one of the streets, in the back of the neighborhood, he found a spot where the road ended and a dirt trail wound up onto a forested knob he could see from his house. It looked like a neat place to explore but there were “No Trespassing” and “Posted” signs nailed up everywhere.

  Pedaling back to his own territory, he passed a concrete drainage ditch. It was about ten feet deep with sloping sides and a smooth bottom with long, shallow puddles. He started out playing with the tadpoles and ended up riding up and down the walls, speeding through the puddles at the bottom and seeing how far he could launch water from his tires. He got to where he could ride all the way to the top, spin the bike around, and plummet back down to the base. He was really getting good when a fat woman appeared at the top and pointed at a big sign Hector hadn’t noticed. “You’re not supposed to be down there!” she yelled with a shrill voice. “Don’t make me call the police.”

  A few minutes later, someone yelled at him for riding his bike on the sidewalk. Then a car honked at him for riding in the street. He got back to his own neighborhood and all the backyards and sidewalks were devoid of human life. What was the point? He had two choices: play in his yard, which was about as exciting as a teenager playing in his yard, or sign his life away to play on a club soccer team. No wonder he’s spent so much time on Omega Wars since he
moved here. There wasn’t anything else to do.

  He was headed back toward the off-limits school when he spotted another kid. It took about two seconds for the red hair to announce who it was. He remembered what his mother had said, but what choice did he have? It was Chaz or staring at his own navel.

  “Where you headed?” Hector asked, riding up alongside.

  Chaz grinned at him. “Just going up to the school for a little parkour.”

  “Parkour?” Hector asked. “What’s that?”

  “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

  So Hector rode beside Chaz back to the school despite his mother’s orders. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” said Hector, as they stopped out front. The custodian would be coming out any minute now.

  “Really?” said Chaz, making it clear he didn’t care. He began doing stretches like he was warming up for something.

  A nervous itch clawed up and down Hector’s back. This was exactly Chaz’s reputation. “Chaz, I was already up here and got in trouble.”

  “Trouble? Or did some someone just tell you to stop?”

  Hector paused. “The custodian said it was against the rules to kick my soccer ball against the wall.”

  Chaz snorted. “Sounds like a stupid rule.” He took off at a dead sprint.

  “What are you doing?” hissed Hector, but by the time he’d gotten the words out of his mouth, Chaz had seemingly by magic, vaulted up on a concrete bench, leapt to an overhanging pole, and swung himself up on top of the covered walkway beside the parking lot. “How’d you do that?” cried Hector, but Chaz had already jumped back down to the grass and finished with a roll to break his fall.

  “Parkour, come on!” Chaz said and kept going.

  Hector chased him around the side of the school watching the gravity-defying Chaz run straight up walls, jog along their tops, leap to handrails, swing over them, and do flips back to the ground. They ended up at the air conditioners where Chaz leapt from wall to pipe and back again and with a few quick jumps and twists, scrambled onto the roof. Hector stared up at him with his jaw hanging open.