Interlude-Brandon (The Game is Life)

by Schott, Terry

  Sighing with disappointment, she shuffled to the filthy kitchen to look for something to make for dinner. Piles of dirty dishes and food wrappers lay all around. She rummaged through the cupboard. It was mostly empty, save for a few bags of dried goods.

  “How ‘bout noodles, hun?” she said, looking down at her daughter.

  “I’m still hungry after noodles, Mommy,” she said. Her hair was dirty and she was still wearing pajamas even though it was late afternoon.

  The mother looked at her daughter and felt a momentary twinge of guilt.

  She smiled, though, because soon she’d be able to afford another headset. Then she could let her daughter play as well. There were new jobs inside the game where you could earn credits and even headsets to give to family members. Things would be better for both of them then.

  “Soon Mommy will get you your very own headset and let you play in Tygon too, baby,” she said. “There’s much better food in there, but today noodles is all we got.”

  The little girl looked confused, but she believed and trusted her mother, so she nodded. “Okay, Mommy,” she said.

  The mother stood at the stove, waiting for the pot to boil and the noodles to cook. The entire time, she was daydreaming about her life inside the game. On Tygon she was a somebody. Here she was just a poor uneducated woman with a husband who had left her and a crappy little apartment. Here she had no job, no food, no real hope of anything good from life. There was nothing for her here.

  She put the noodles in a bowl and put them on the table. “There you go, sweetheart, you eat those noodles up.”

  “Thanks, Mommy,” her daughter said. “You gonna eat some too?”

  Her mother smiled and shook her head. “No, Honey, I’ll eat on Tygon. You go ahead.”

  She patted her daughter on the head and walked to the living room, grabbing her VR helmet from the table on the way. She looked at the timer and smiled. It had cooled down enough to let her log back in.

  Adjusting a couple of dials, she placed the helmet on her head.

  She thought she heard her daughter’s voice from the kitchen, saying, “I love you, Mommy,” but she was already back in Tygon, standing on the stage as the crowd cheered and applauded and chanted her name.

  Chapter 59

  Brandon’s plane was a small single propeller model, the kind with pontoons that could land on water. He exited the aircraft, collected his bag, and walked up the pier towards an elegant hotel.

  Thorn was there to meet him at the entrance; Cooper stood beside him. Both men smiled and took turns hugging Brandon.

  “How was the flight?” Thorn asked. “Not too long or bumpy, I hope?”

  “It was fine, thanks,” Brandon replied. “I had no problems at all.”

  In Tygon 3.0, Brandon was now a grown man, six feet tall with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. He was muscular, with an athletic build. A few weeks after the game had gone live, almost all of the Elite groups had decided to change their avatars from children to adults. Average players didn’t choose child avatars, and being an adult was much more practical.

  “Do you want to go to your room first and drop your bags off, or would you prefer to get right to it?”

  “If everyone else is here, I’m ready to get started,” Brandon said.

  “Okay, then, right this way.”

  The three men talked and got caught up on the way to the main lobby of the hotel. Brandon had been here once before; it was a private island on Tygon, owned and controlled by Thorn. The only way to get here was by invitation, and in Brandon’s experience this wasn’t a place one would want to visit for pleasure.

  They entered the main hall and walked to a private meeting room filled with team leaders from the Elite groups. Brandon smiled and nodded to some of them; many had become friends and allies over the years in the Sim. Brandon spotted Lohkam who scowled at him and turned away to talk with his neighbour. The two had never grown close. In fact, Lohkam tried to kill Brandon almost every time they ran into each other, although most of their encounters ended with Brandon getting the upper hand.

  Thorn walked to the head table and sat down, with Brandon on his right and Cooper on his left.

  “Thank you all for coming on such short notice; I’m glad you could all make it. I’ve called you here today to deliver a message. Real life, or the Dream as we call it, is in a state of extreme crisis.”

  Thorn paused for a reaction, but no one looked surprised or concerned. Thorn said something to that effect and Lohkam spoke up on behalf of the group.

  “It’s never been our world, Mr. Thorn. We didn’t really get to live in it. All of us have spent our entire lives in the Centres and inside virtual reality. Quite frankly, if the Dream ceased to exist tomorrow, I wouldn’t care one bit.”

  Others nodded in agreement; Thorn could see their point, and although he didn’t share their sentiment, he could understand it.

  “I have one entire Tygon server dedicated to crunching numbers and figuring probabilities,” Thorn said. “The data overwhelmingly points to an outcome which we must avoid at all costs; complete extinction of our species from the planet. Even if you live your entire life inside Tygon or some other simulation, electrical power is still required to keep these virtual worlds in existence. That power is generated in the real world, and without it you will die in here as well.”

  The group of Elites looked at each other around the table and nodded grudgingly.

  “How much time is there?” Brandon asked.

  Thorn shook his head. “The absolute worst case scenarios indicate that we have a little over a year.”

  “How can we help?” one of the leaders asked.

  “To begin with, I need you and your teammates to complete another thirty year simulation,” Thorn said. “Because of the drain on our computer and energy resources from Tygon 3.0, that simulation will last three months rather than three weeks.”

  Lohkam groaned, “That part doesn’t matter to us,” he said. “Three minutes or three years, it will still feel like we’ve been inside the simulation for thirty years! I can’t do that again.”

  Thorn pursed his lips and looked out over the leaders. “I can’t force you to do it, but the experience you’ll gain from living another lifetime will be invaluable. I can tell you that this time around will be more focused. We need you to master one skill.”

  “What skill?” another leader asked.

  “I need you to become to become experts in the field of quantum computing design and programming.”

  Chapter 60

  Thorn sat at a small table in a corner of the resort’s restaurant. It had been a long, stressful day making sure all the Elite leaders arrived in time and were present for the message he had to deliver. The last of them were boarding their planes to depart the island now. There were a few special guests still enjoying private meals around the dining room. It was the perfect time to relax with a glass of wine and a peaceful meal.

  Thorn cut into his rare steak and raised it to his mouth. As he looked up, he saw Lohkam striding purposefully towards him, a frown on his face. That boy always has a frown on his face , Thorn thought to himself.

  Lohkam stopped in front of Thorn, glaring at him but saying nothing . Thorn looked him in the eye but continued to chew his food, taking the time to enjoy the first bite of steak he’d had in quite a while. He looked down to cut another bite. When he put the food into his mouth, his eyes conveyed boredom as they returned to rest on Lohkam’s. Could be lucky enough to eat this whole steak before I have to listen to this?

  Three bites later, Thorn groaned inwardly as Lohkam finally spoke up.

  “I can’t do another thirty year session.”

  Thorn finished chewing the food in his mouth. “What if I could have you complete it in three weeks instead of three months?” he asked.

  Lohkam shook his head negatively without a hint of hesitation, which told Thorn all he needed to know about the situation. “It’s not the time that passes here, Mr. Tho
rn,” Lohkam explained. “It’s having to live another thirty years in there. I just can’t do it.”

  Thorn looked Lohkam up and down with a critical eye. “You don’t plan to live thirty more years?” he asked.

  “Of course I do. I don’t want to live more than one lifetime, though. One lifetime is enough; to live more than that just seems like… punishment.”

  Thorn was surprised. He assumed everyone wanted to get more life. He shook his head in wonder at the thought of someone not wanting to live as long as possible and experience all there was to experience. He looked at Lohkam for a moment, then nodded and waved his fork before he cut another bite.

  “Okay, fine, Lohkam. If you don’t want more years of life, then so be it.”

  Lohkam relaxed visibly, almost as if someone had just pardoned him from a prison sentence. “Thank you, sir, I appreciate it. If there’s anything else I can do for you, I’m happy to. Anything at all.”

  Thorn nodded while he finished another mouthful of food. He wished the boy would leave him alone while he was eating, but he wasn’t going to let this prevent him from enjoying his meal. Lohkam could wait between bites, since this was the time he’d chosen to chat.

  “I have something else for you to do while the other Elites are out for the next three months,” he said. “It seems that Tygon 3.0 is too… pleasant. It’s better and more enjoyable than most people’s real lives, which causes them to want to spend all their time in there. We are thinking of changing Tygon 3.0 to become less ‘fun’ to live in, in the hopes that people will decide to quit the game and get back to reality.”

  “How will you do that?” Lohkam asked.

  Thorn smiled, “We’re going to take Facility players into Tygon, one server at a time, and start killing every civilian player we see. Over and over until they get frustrated and quit the game.”

  Lohkam frowned. “Rather than live a boring life for thirty years inside VR, you want me to spend my days slaughtering unskilled avatars inside a game that doesn’t really promote violence?”

  “Exactly,” Thorn nodded.

  Lohkam’s frown spread into a wicked grin. “I’m ready to start immediately.”

  Chapter 61

  Carl was starting to wonder if the computer running the Sim was glitching.

  He opened the door of the house and examined the decorations. Well, he thought to himself, if it’s glitching, the furniture and appearance of the houses continue to be different.

  Carl had questioned this particular game since the very first time he played it. He expected a challenge, but so far there’d been nothing. He was beginning to lose count of the number of times he’d played this scenario; He was sure it was at least thirty-three.

  The house was silent. As he moved from the hallway and into the middle of the house he heard a sound coming from a room in the back. Carl approached the room, gently pushing the door open to reveal a small bedroom with walls decorated in pink.

  There was a video player on the dresser and a small girl, perhaps five or six years of age, sitting on the bed with her back to the door watching a children’s program. Carl slowly closed the door, making certain that the girl didn’t notice him.

  He checked the other rooms and found his target in a room on the right. Entering the room, he immediately noticed the smell; it was musty, like stale body odour mixed with faded laundry detergent. The blinds were pulled down, although slight cracks in the blinds let in streams of sunlight. Motes of dust flashed in the narrow shafts of light. Clothes littered the floor as if someone had been looking for something specific. The bed didn’t match the rest of the scene; it was made precisely, the covers clean and colourful compared to the drab dirtiness that surrounded it.

  He approached carefully and slowly, although experience had taught him he didn’t need to use any stealth; his targets never seemed to sense him.

  This one was a woman. Sometimes they were women, and other times men. Their ages were all different too. She appeared to be around twenty-five and was sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms hanging loosely by her sides. On her head was a gold coloured helmet; smooth except for one small dial and knob near the right top portion. A black pair of goggles covered her eyes. Carl guessed they were too dark to see through, but he wasn’t certain about that. Her mouth was turned up in a grin; they were always grinning, often with a bit of clear drool dribbling down from one corner of their mouths. There was no drool this time, but the grin was certainly there.

  Carl stood and watched her for a moment, making sudden small movements to see if he could get her attention. Nothing. There was no reaction at all. Leaning in close, he read the logo on the front of the helmet. He already knew what it would say, but it had become part of his ritual and it felt odd not to do it. Plus it delayed what had become the worst part of the mission.

  ‘Tygon 3.0, Thorn Inc.’ He wondered what Tygon was, and if Thorn Inc. had something to do with Mr. Thorn. Often simulations included familiar names and situations because the Sim used details from existing data in the system to fill in unimportant blanks.

  Carl shook his head and dismissed the idea that it was of any importance; he’d wasted enough time. Reaching behind his back, he unsheathed a long, sharp blade. With a quick slash he performed his task, watching grimly as the avatar crumpled silently back onto the bed. The blood pooled around her throat onto the clean sheets beneath her as Carl turned and left the bedroom.

  He saw a towel lying on the floor in the hallway and he bent down to wipe his blade. He continued his search, checking the remaining two rooms in the house.

  In one of them he found a teenage boy frozen in place, also wearing a helmet and a grin. Carl quickly dispatched him and exited the house through the back patio doors.

  Hopping the fence, he made his way to the next house, looking for a back entrance. He looked at his watch and realized he’d have to pick up the pace. He had two hundred and ninety-two more targets to find and eliminate before his time in this game ran down to zero.

  Chapter 62

  “I heard you want to add another member to your team,” Cooper said. “I don’t recommend a hand with six digits, Brandon. It isn’t as useful as it might sound.”

  “I’m not adding another member to my team,” Brandon said. “You showed me how to build a network, Cooper. Carl’s a key member of mine, and I want him to join us in the thirty year Sim.”

  Cooper smiled. Early on he’d taught Brandon that his Hand was the General’s best, not only for their skill and prowess in the field, but also because of the vast network that Cooper and his team had built over the years. Brandon had learned this lesson well, and built his own network among the Facility’s Gamers that included almost every team and notable player who had played inside the Sim in the thirteen years that it had been live. The list of people that Brandon could rely on for help was impressive.

  “A team is guided and controlled by its members,” Cooper said. “A network is accepted for what it is, and tapped into when the situation allows.”

  “Exactly,” Brandon nodded.

  “Asking to bring Carl with you is controlling him, when you should monitor the situations and use Carl when the time and opportunity present themselves.”

  “I get it, Cooper — honestly, I do,” Brandon said. “I’m not telling Carl to come join us. I simply see an opportunity, and if the situation presents itself, then I would like to get him an invite into the Sim.”

  “What is it you want to have him do for you?” Cooper asked.

  Brandon explained his plan, and Cooper nodded in agreement. “Okay, I see what you’re getting at. Carl will be perfect, but there’s a slight problem.”

  “What?” Brandon asked.

  “He’s Blurred, and he’s on assignment for the General.”

  A cold sensation gripped Brandon’s stomach, and he felt ill. They’d heard rumours of what was happening with Blurred players but had tried not to listen too closely. To prevent it from happening to them, they’d increased their
meditation sessions. The entire team had been relieved when they were removed from the Sim and put into Thorn’s public virtual reality, where the dangers of Blurring seemed significantly diminished.

  “What does that mean?” Brandon asked.

  “It means,” Cooper said with a grim look, “that he thinks he’s inside the Sim killing computer generated NPCs for points, when in fact, he’s in the real world killing people the General wants dead.”

  “This whole Sim project was intended to turn us into better killing machines for the General,” Brandon said.

  “Absolutely,” Cooper said. “His plan was to create even better soldiers to help him solidify control over the real world.”

  “And Thorn helped him.”

  “Yes, Thorn helped him. Then Thorn took it to the next level, making things go from bad to worse.”

  “The General wanted to rule the people of the world, but Thorn might end up destroying them all,” Brandon guessed.

  Cooper nodded. “There are stories of people staying inside Tygon for so long that they’re starving to death, sitting in their homes with their VR helmets on.”

  “That’s horrible,” Brandon said.

  “Yes, and that’s one of the less horrific stories. There have been reports of people stealing and killing each other to get enough money to subscribe to Tygon 3.0 for just a few more days. People are becoming hooked on the game almost immediately. Their lives are so much better inside Tygon that they abandon reality until they die.”

  Brandon shook his head in bewilderment. “So who do we help? The General or Thorn?”