“This is Owl,” the sloth said. “She will deliver your next lesson.”
Brandon looked at the owl in confusion. “How will I talk to her?” he asked.
The sloth laughed gently. “You will speak to her silently with your mind.”
‘That’s right,’ a voice replied inside Brandon’s head.
‘Hi,’ Brandon said.
‘Hello, young walker.’ Owl said. ‘Are you ready to learn your new lesson?’
‘Yes, I am.’ Brandon replied.
Owl stretched her wings and gave them a playful flap. ‘I will be teaching you to fly.’
Brandon smiled with delight. ‘Is it very difficult? To fly?’ he asked.
Owl’s rich laughter echoed in his skull. ‘Flying is easy,’ she said. ‘It’s landing that seems to be the tricky part.’
Brandon wasn’t worried about getting hurt, so he nodded eagerly and waited for instructions.
‘Flying is accomplished with your mind; the wings and body help you steer and adjust your speed,’ Owl said. ‘The power that you used to hold the rats in the air is the same force you will need to fly. Step one is to hold yourself so that you float in the air.’
‘That’s it?’ Brandon was surprised, he thought it would be more difficult.
‘Yes that’s it,’ Owl said. ‘Birds don’t have large brains. If it required too much effort to fly they would never get off the ground. Now go ahead and jump up into the air, and then hold yourself up there before you fall back to the ground.’
Brandon stuck his tongue out and bent his legs. Then he jumped upwards and tried to summon the glow to hold himself in the air.
He failed at his first and second attempts. On the third try, he got a slight grip, and hung in the air for a moment before he fell over and landed with a thud. After a few more attempts he was sweating and slightly frustrated. Owl nodded encouragingly while sloth sat watching him with an amused look on his face. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, Brandon sat on the ground panting and looking seriously at Owl.
‘How ya doing?’ Owl asked.
Brandon grinned suddenly. ‘Pretty good,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve almost got it.’
‘I think so too,’ Owl agreed. ‘Once you’re able to float we will fly around for a bit. It’s much easier to fly than it is to float.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, yes.’
Brandon stood up and dusted himself off. His brow knit together in concentration, he jumped straight up into the air as high as he could… and floated steadily in place, a foot or so above the ground. He let out a whoop of triumph and smiled at Owl.
The sloth nodded in satisfaction and moved its hand in a circular pattern. A tingling sensation began to spread over his body, and he transformed into a large owl. Brandon hooted and flapped his wings.
‘That’s much better,’ Owl thought. ‘Now we can fly. Follow me, youngling.’
Brandon flapped his wings hard and shot upwards into the sky close on the heels of Owl. She led him on a fast chase through the air, zipping left and right between the trees as they sprang up. Brandon didn’t think; he let his body do the work and enjoyed the experience.
A short time later Owl flew up above the trees and waited for Brandon to catch up to her. Brandon came up beside her and stopped quickly. He used the energy of the glow to help hold him in place.
‘What do you think of your new ability?’ Owl asked.
‘I love it!’ Brandon replied. ‘I don’t want this to end.’
‘All things end,’ Owl said. ‘This experience will last for a while, though. Let me know when you get tired.’
Brandon spotted a dark shape rising quickly towards them from the ground. Before he could ask Owl about it, the shape reached them. It was a man dressed in black garbage bags. He had a long black beard and even longer hair which were both windblown and uncombed. The man was dirty; it looked like he must live in a garbage dumpster. His feet were encased in heavy black army boots which didn't appear to have any laces to keep them on, and on his hands he wore shiny red gloves; Brandon could see they were made from metal bottle caps somehow strung together.
The man flashed a crooked smile, revealing yellow, jagged teeth. He raised a hand towards them and yelled out loudly. “Hi, Owl! Who’s your friend? I can tell he’s not a real owl… where did you find him?”
‘He’s a young student,’ Owl projected and the man nodded his head.
“First day flying, boy?” the man shouted.
‘Yes,’ Brandon thought.
“You must be someone special to be so young and have them teaching you to fly.” He did a back flip in the air, fell about ten feet, and then zoomed back up to their level. “No one taught me to fly; I learned how to do it all on my own.”
‘How did this man get into my dream?’ Brandon thought to himself.
The man laughed loudly. “Who says this is your dream, boy? Maybe you somehow got into mine…”
‘Don’t confuse the child,’ Owl said. ‘Go play on your own; I will send him to you when he is ready.’
“You mean if he’s ready.” The man said. “It’s been a long time since you’ve brought anyone to me. I’m beginning to think people don’t know how to dream big anymore.”
‘I think this one will make it,’ Owl said.
“Well, I hope you do, boy,” the man said. “It’s been a long time since they sent anyone to learn my super power.”
‘You have a super power?’ Brandon asked.
The man laughed loudly. “The boy who’s been turned into an owl asks the old man floating in the sky if he has a super power. I like your sense of humour, young man. Good luck to you.”
The man flew away quickly, and Owl started flying in the opposite direction. Brandon wanted to talk more with him but he was afraid of losing Owl, so he followed her.
They flew for what seemed like hours. Owl would stop every so often to let Brandon rest, but he would quickly regain his energy and they would be off again.
Finally they descended, and Brandon recognized the edge of the jungle with the bathroom wall. When Brandon’s feet touched the ground, he became a boy again.
‘That’s all for this visit,’ Owl said. ‘Remember the feeling of flying. Practice feeling as if you’re flying, and do it often.’
“I will,” Brandon promised. “Thanks a lot. I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”
Owl shook her head. ‘I don’t think you will return for a long time, Brandon.’
“But you told the dirty flying man that I’d be back soon,” he said. “I want to fly again, and I want to learn his super power.”
‘Most people live their whole lives and never get a chance to visit this place,’ Owl said. ‘Remember the feelings, and look for chances to use what you have learned.’
Brandon started to say more, but Owl jumped into the air and flew away. Looking towards the tree he saw the sloth raise its hand in farewell…
Suddenly he woke up.
Chapter 20
“Eight, nine, and… ten.”
Cooper opened his eyes and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the medical table.
He stood, looking around. His senses told him that he was still awake and the room appeared identical to the one in the Centre.
There were differences, though. There were no people here, and the whiteness of this room was more crisp and clean than it had been when he lie down on the table. The air smelled different, and the lights didn’t flicker the same way they did before he closed his eyes.
He held his breath and counted. When he reached sixty and his lungs weren’t burning from lack of oxygen, he knew for certain that he was in the computer program. Cooper nodded, opened his eyes, and sat back down on the table to wait for his guide.
Cooper referred to being inside the computer simulation as being “in the Vid.” He liked the sound of it. He was certain that the kids would be saying it soon enough.
He grumbled at the thought of the kids playing in here. Fr
om what he’d seen so far, it wouldn’t take them long to figure things out. Cooper was intrigued at the possibilities of this technology, though, and he was going to do his best to make sure he could compete with anyone and everyone in this new world.
The door to the room slid open and his guide walked in. The man was six foot four, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He had the physical build of a professional athlete or soldier; Cooper wondered if this is what the man really looked like outside of the Vid.
“Heya, Doc. Hope we’re going to do more than walk around turning my head and doing knee bends today. I didn’t even feel sore the next day from all the stuff you had me doing.”
His guide smiled. “We will be more active today, Cooper. I’m glad you’re up to the challenge.”
Cooper snorted. “My whole life’s been a challenge, Doc. I know I’m just lying on a table sleeping right now. I doubt there’s much you can throw at me in here that can compare to real life.”
“That could be a dangerous attitude, Cooper,” the man warned. “Reality is simply your mind and body’s interpretation of stimuli. It’s possible to make things as real in here as it is outside. If your brain believes what’s happening is real, then it is real, regardless of where your body is at the moment.”
“Seriously?” Cooper asked.
“Absolutely.”
“I didn’t get your name the other day, Doc.”
The two men shook hands. “My name is Thorn.”
“Samson Thorn? This whole thing is your baby, right?”
“Just call me Thorn. Yeah, it’s my baby.”
“I can’t wait to see what kind of things we can do, Doc.”
“This simulation matches the real world in every way,” Thorn said. “It’s very realistic; I think you’ll be impressed.”
“Sounds interesting,” Cooper said. “Is it possible to die in here?”
“Yes, it is. Your avatar — that’s what we call the body you’re inhabiting at the moment — mimics your real body exactly. If you were to be shot, or stabbed, or have a car dropped on you, the avatar would not be able to function and death would occur.”
Cooper said nothing about his avatar not needing to breathe; maybe he’d found a glitch which he could use to his advantage later on. “What happens when my avatar dies?” he asked.
“You’re ejected from the simulation,” Thorn said. “You wake up, safe on your stasis table.”
“So what’s the plan? What am I supposed to do in here?”
“You’ll learn how the environment works. I’m going to have you perform tasks and actions that you do in the real world so that I can make sure everything is working properly. I’ll teach you how to operate inside the VR matrix, and in return, you help me identify the problems that need to be fixed. Once we have everything working properly, if you’re interested, then you can help me test some of the modified game parameters that the students will compete in. Different gravity, breathable water, invulnerability to bullets, plus a whole list of other variables that I intend to alter.”
Cooper smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
“I think it will be,” Thorn said. “The gun range is first on our list. Follow me.”
“With pleasure.
Chapter 21
Wesley stifled a yawn as he sat at his place near the centre of the long conference table, cupping his hands around his first hot drink of the day. Other instructors sat around the table sipping drinks or flipping through notes as they waited for the lead medical officer to arrive.
Each instructor kept detailed notes on his or her charges. Once a week they met to report on the ranking, mental states and physical concerns of their wards. Each instructor was responsible for closely tracking fifty students for three months. After that time, they would be assigned different players to ensure constant and fresh observation.
Basic training for civilians who enlisted in the armed forces lasted anywhere from three to six months depending on their unit. Basic training for the children of the Centres lasted until they turned eighteen. The average Centre child was in the General’s program not for a few months, but for twelve to sixteen years. It was an incredible accomplishment to raise and train kids for that long without breaking them; the process required a lot of finesse.
Not every child became a soldier. Babies were raised as normally as possible; grouped together in nurseries, cared for by state workers, and continually observed by psychologists and medical doctors. As they became older, the results of their play, grades, and interactions enabled the administrators to assess and steer each individual towards their optimal vocation, thus maximizing their natural abilities and talents.
Wesley remembered a young woman named Jenny who worked in the South Western Children’s Centre. She worked in the nursery with the babies and toddlers, and Wesley had dated her for a brief time. Jenny had been eager to share her memories of life growing up in the Centre with him over dinner and drinks. She was abandoned by her parents as a baby, and the Centre had been her home until she was eighteen. Her eyes lit up as she told him about life inside the Centre. From the sounds of it, her childhood had been what one would expect growing up in an orphanage; many kids the same age eating, sleeping, and going to school together. There’d been the occasional bully, but the adults who ran the Centre worked diligently to minimize this type of behaviour. Every few years the kids were given vigorous aptitude tests. Some of her friends qualified for special programs and were moved to other parts of the Centre, or even transferred to different locations altogether. Once they reached the age of ten, all children were fully profiled and regrouped with others who were similar to them in personality and interests. Jenny told him about one of her old childhood friends who was now one of the most famous movie stars in the world. As Wesley listened to Jenny talk, he’d gained a better understanding of how organized the Centres were.
Jenny admitted that she never showed any real talent. When she turned seventeen they had her spend time in the nursery, which she enjoyed and seemed to have a knack for. Turning eighteen was a stressful time for her; the closer a child came to their eighteenth birthday, the more the instructors spoke about the challenges and struggles of living in the real world. Jenny told him that most kids dreamt of obtaining work with the Centre to avoid exile from the comfort of a system that had been their entire lives. She had almost given up hope, but at the last moment the Centre had offered her a position working with the little ones. The pay wasn’t great, but she knew the work and was able to afford a clean place to live in close by.
Listening to her story had disturbed Wesley. The Centre had taken a girl and raised her, looking for any talent that they could exploit along the way. They had programmed her to be afraid of the real world, and given her a job that no child would ever actively want to do. Rather than be disappointed with her lot in life, she was grateful.
Over the past few years, Wesley had spoken with many workers inside the Centres. Most had been raised within the system and groomed to perform specific duties when they became adults. Not everyone had been conditioned to fear leaving the Centres. Wesley guessed that they only did that to the kids that they wanted to keep as Centre staff. Wesley discovered that there were thousands of Centre graduates every year. Those who entered the workforce did so at every level in all facets of life, from common busboys and dishwashers in restaurants to brilliant business executives. Graduates of the Centres did share one common trait that had been carefully and systematically conditioned into them during their time inside; they were absolutely loyal to the person whom they believed had saved them from death and given them the best chance to excel at life… the General.
Putting together pieces of the puzzle had revealed a disturbing picture; the General was strategically placing loyal followers into every position in society, and he’d been doing it for years.
Wesley flipped through his notes, wondering where the kids he was currently tracking would end up when they turned eighteen. None of them were mediocre; the Game
Facility was a high end division of the Centres. The kids he was working with would do more than change diapers or serve food.
Here in the Game Facility, everything was a game. Not just the actual games, but also patterns of sleep and mixed periods of activity. A gamer might sit around for days without being scheduled to play, and then be woken up at three in the morning to enter a game immediately. Sometimes a player would exit a physical contest and enter another one right away. Instructors monitored their players to make certain that no one was pushed past their breaking point. It was a system of controlled chaos designed to bring out the best in the students, stress testing them, but not pushing them so far that it broke them.
The lead medical officer entered the room and walked to his seat. “Okay, people, give it to me as quickly as you can. I have three other places to be at this exact moment.”
Instructors began to speak in turn, each delivering normal reports that indicated their players were within acceptable parameters concerning mental and physical conditioning. The pace of the meeting moved quickly until one of the instructors reported an abnormal result.
“I think there might be a mental crack with one of my Alpha boys,” the instructor announced.
The lead officer looked up from his clipboard with concern. “Which Alpha is it, and how big a crack?” he asked.
“Lohkam. I think it’s very slight, if it exists at all.”
The lead med officer typed Lohkam’s name into his tablet, and read the information in his file. Every report, game score, altercation with other students, meal, game highlight, and a multitude of other details were documented. The lead officer spent a few moments scanning the information before nodding. “Okay, we’ll take a closer look at him. Everything looks fine on the surface, but there could be something there. Good call, Instructor.”
The rest of the reports continued uneventfully. The meeting concluded and everyone stood up to leave. The kids would be up in half an hour and there was work to do before then.
Wesley guessed that most instructors would be heading for a terminal to access Lohkam’s file. If there was a chance he might be unstable everyone would keep an eye on him as he interacted with their charges.
Interlude-Brandon (The Game is Life) Page 7