by Ashanti Luke
“I smuggled a copy of the software on board and circumvented the lock-out codes. I’ve been playing while everyone was asleep, but it appears now my secret is out.” Another half sigh, half chuckle punctuated his sentence.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Cyrus said, stepping forward to get a better view of the battle. “My son was fond of the spaceship battles in the later levels, but I personally prefer the Warring States Period of China levels.”
“Me too,” Dr. Jang’s eyes widened a little as he faced Cyrus, “But I can’t seem to beat this particular level. I’m outnumbered and the other army’s cavalry keeps cutting me to shreds.”
“Let me see what you have,” Cyrus surveyed the landscape and the resources. “So what is your goal? To just defeat the other army?”
“If you can make it to the bases that are farther up the gram and kill the general there you win, but the cavalry always runs me down and decimates my forces.”
“Any idea what kind of garrison is in the base?”
Dr. Jang moved his hand over the battlefield and it quickly scrolled north, revealing a large wooden fort nestled between two hills to bar passage between them. Archers were mounted along the battlements and the fortress was manned by infantry numbering at least that of the force Dr. Jang had at his disposal. There were at least three mounted captains. There was also one mounted officer with a gold lion face on his breast plate and an ostentatious plume and two large streamers erupting from his helm. “Let me guess, the guy with the big ridiculous hat is the general you need to beat.”
“Yeah, and he’s no push-over either. Honestly, I don’t know what general in his right mind would attack under these circumstances.” Dr. Jang scrolled back to where the cavalry were riding toward his men.
“Well, these circumstances give us the perfect opportunity for attack because firstly, the enemy would not suspect it, and secondly, they would be overconfident in their numbers. We should focus on those things, and use them to our advantage.”
“But how?”
“You have all your men lined up like British Redcoats. These archers in the back, can you move them on top of the hill along the pass between the fort and your current position?”
“It will take them a while, but yeah, they can make it there. It will weaken our ability to stop the cavalry though.”
“You couldn’t really stop the cavalry anyway, right?” Cyrus smiled, and Dr. Jang breathed another chuckle-sigh. “You have fire attacks on this level, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then there’s the plan. Send the archers to cover the pass. Divide the infantry, leaving only those necessary for the fire attack. Send the rest around the opposite side of the pass and have them double-time it to the other entrance. When the cavalry rushes in, set the fire attack on the ground in front of them and keep feeding the flames. By then, your archers should be in place. Have them wait at the top of the pass until your infantry arrives here.” Cyrus pointed to the spot the cavalry was charging from. “Then, have them charge from here to here.” Cyrus pointed to a spot about three hundred scale meters from the previous one. “Then stop when the cavalry rushes back to engage your infantry. Have the archers unload on them. Then, the only way out will be to charge through a hail of arrows for another three hundred meters and face fresh infantry, or to charge back three hundred meters and brave the flames. Any man that makes it out of that will earn a plume for his helm.”
“It all sounds good, but I don’t know.”
“What do you have to lose?”
Dr. Jang set the plan in motion. He deftly maneuvered his hand over the hologram, shifting effortlessly across large spans of battlefield, placing command markers here and there that gave the troops specific orders to follow. The men were still frozen in place as the commands were given. Finally, Dr. Jang turned to Cyrus again. “Let’s see what happens.”
He pressed the holographic button again and the battle exploded to life. Just as Cyrus had planned, the cavalry rushed in, stopped at the fire, and was lured into a hail of arrows. The computer, struggling with three distinct targets, emulated panic remarkably in the enemies it controlled. The cavalry spun and twisted as arrows tore through armor and horses in a well-orchestrated ballet of slaughter and terror. Men fell from their mounts, horses trampled the living and dead alike, and only the commander managed to scurry for cover behind a rock.
“Wow,” Dr. Jang exhaled, “it looks like a totally different scenario now. These guys just rode into the wrong door at a slaughterhouse.”
“Pause it,” Cyrus added calmly, admiring his work. “The battle’s not over yet. We still have to take over the base.”
“Yeah, and we’re still outnumbered.”
“Scroll over to the side again. What was that structure I saw earlier?”
Dr. Jang scrolled closer to the main base and over to the right. “You mean this? That’s a supply depot. It confuses them for a little while if you take it over, but it doesn’t really help much.”
“There’s only those guys on the inside defending it?”
“Yeah, but they are pretty strong.”
“Will the men come out of the main fortress if assistance is needed at the supply base?”
“Yeah, if you are taking too long to beat the supply captains, or if you set the place on fire. But you have to do that from the inside.”
“Hmm,” Cyrus pondered the situation for a moment, “Can your archers help with the fire attack?”
“If you combine them with the fire attack unit they can launch flaming arrows from a distance.”
“Okay, send your archers to this hill here.” Cyrus let a feeble yawn escape as he pointed out the hill in front of the supply depot. “Rush your foot soldiers to the front, but then stop. When the gates to the depot open, fire your arrows inside. If the men here are as clumsy as the cavalry, they will stumble over themselves trying to figure out whether the fire or your foot soldiers are more important. Have the foot soldiers run to the back of the supply depot and when the reinforcements come, set another fire behind them and rain arrows down on them from the hill.”
Dr. Jang chuckled to himself as he reached to enter some commands into the game, “We sure are setting a lot of things on fire.”
“Even people fascinated with fire are afraid of it. I’d say it’s one of the most fearsome things in the human imagination.”
Dr. Jang finished entering the series of commands Cyrus had dictated. He kept the system paused as he turned back to Cyrus, “Why do you think that is?”
“I think it’s because one way or the other, everything burns. The trick is getting something warmed up enough to reach its flash point. But once it’s burned, it ain’t coming back. Fire is decisive, permanent, and unforgiving.”
Dr. Jang’s eyes focused on Cyrus’s rather intently for a brief moment and then relaxed as he let out a hybrid sigh-chuckle. He started to say something, reconsidered, and then said it anyway, “You ever say anything like that to anyone who didn’t think you were a twisted freebirth after you said it?” The words came out rushed and awkward.
Cyrus smiled a little to reassure Dr. Jang he was not offended, “I said something like that to my wife once, but she was already indubitably convinced I was a twisted freebirth.”
“If this long-winded scheme of yours works, twisted freebirth or not, you have my respect.” Dr. Jang turned back and was about to let the commands run their course, but he stopped again, hand hovering over the controls. “Just do me a favor. Don’t tell anyone about me hacking this game into the system.”
“If anyone hears it, they won’t hear it from me. But you’re gonna have trouble keeping it from any other scientists who venture in here to burn the midnight oil.”
“Honestly, I don’t mind if anyone else knows, or even plays. That would be stellar if they did. I just don’t want Dr. Villichez to find out. That guy reminds me too much of my halabagi.” Dr. Jang exhaled a weak chuckle again and set the battle in motion, awaiting the confla
gration that would push his streamer-sporting adversary to his flash point.
six
• • • • •
—Darius, how did you score in the seventy-fourth percentile?
—I don’t know.
—You don’t know? What does that mean, ‘you don’t know?’ I would think between the two of us, you would have the clearest idea. Don’t tell me you don’t know.
—Why are you so serious? It’s just seventy-four. It’s still above average.
—Above average? Where is this coming from? How would you feel if I took your HoloStation and gave you a Viewdeck instead?
—I don’t know.
—You don’t know again, huh? Darius, ‘I don’t know’ is the stupid man’s mantra when he’s backed into a corner. You know full-well what you would feel like if you had to play vids on a Viewdeck. You wouldn’t like it, would you?
—I don…
—Don’t you say it, boy. You own up. You answer me like a man and stop dodging. Would you like it if someone took your HoloStation and gave you a Viewdeck?
—I guess a Viewdeck is okay, if all you got is a Viewdeck. But if I had a HoloStation, especially a HoloStation Prime, and it got traded for a Viewdeck, I guess I wouldn’t like it much.
—Why?
—Because a Viewdeck is bunkus compared to a HoloStation.
—Exactly. And here you are, a nominee for the Rothschild Laureate, and you’re handing me scores like a Freeschooler.
—Thought you said there’s nothing wrong with Freeschool.
—I did. Just like you said there’s nothing wrong with a Viewdeck. But backtracking is… what’s the word… bunkus.
—I don’t get it. Why do I have to be the best all the time? Why don’t I get a break?
—You get a break when the job’s done, son. It’s that simple. And you have to be the best because you are the best—at least better than most when it comes to understanding and reasoning.
—But the job’s hard and it goes on forever. Soon as one thing’s done there’s some other boring thing to do. It’s not fair.
—Fair? What’s not fair is being given the gift of aptitude and not using it. There’s some kid right now wishing he were half as capable as you. Why does that Genivere Lim girl always beat you, huh? Do you even know?
—Please Dada, not again.
—Yes, again. Again and again and again until you get it. It’s because you don’t have the killer instinct. Because you don’t know how to get the job done under tough circumstances. Not because she’s smarter than you, but because she wants it more. She needs it just to get through the day. Needs it because she isn’tsmarter, and that’s all she has to cling to.
—Then she can have it.
—And she will. And you, you will always be second seed.
—Maybe second seed is enough.
—You ever wonder why I never bought you the HoloStation Prime you’re always asking for? It’s because you don’t deserve it. Because you don’t get the job done.
—I don’t see what that has to do with what you’re talking about.
—And that’s precisely why you still have a HoloStation Beta. The day you realize that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to get the things you do want, that will be the day l get you anything you ask for within my power.
—And when will that be?
—Ask yourself.
• • • • •
As Cyrus hit the ground, pain struck out from his shoulder blade, through his wrist and hand, and out his fingers, letting him know immediately that something had gone wrong. He rolled over the opposite shoulder and to his feet, avoiding his right arm completely. As he turned to face Dr. Tanner, he exhaled starkly, extended his left arm in front of him, and then assumed a defensive stance. His right arm hung limp against his side.
“That doesn’t look good,” Dr. Tanner relaxed his stance.
“I can still fight.” Cyrus lunged forward with a kick, and then, as Tanner blocked, Cyrus ducked around to the left and fired a left hook beneath Tanner’s elbow. Tanner dodged to the side as the punch nicked his shirttail.
“Wasn’t expecting…” His sentence was cut short as he dodged back to his right, under another kick. Cyrus rotated his body right and fired another kick over Tanner’s ducking head. As Tanner stepped forward to counter, Cyrus launched himself into the air, using his momentum to spin and bring his left foot completely around. Already moving forward, Tanner had to let his front leg collapse under his own weight to get under the kick. Cyrus’s foot grazed Tanner’s lip as his head went down, off balance. Cyrus landed and let the momentum carry his limp arm around and the wrist of his dislocated arm smacked into Tanner’s temple. The collision snapped Tanner’s head to the side, and his body, already off balance, crumpled to the ground. Cold, sharp nettles of pain shot from Cyrus’s rotator cuff in an arc, slicing through his elbow, meeting at the tip of his middle finger, and leaving a glacial numbness in its wake. And then, the glacier shattered and pain washed over his entire body like a deluge. As Cyrus’s body collapsed, he imagined he could feel his consciousness, along with the pain, spilling out onto the body of his fallen adversary.
• • • • •
“I hate it when you move your queen out in the opening.”
“The only reason I move my queen out in the opening is because I know you hate it.”
Tanner rubbed his jaw lightly as he studied the chessboard. “My jaw still hurts,” he said, stretching his mouth as he advanced his king-side knight.
“My shoulder’s not doing too well either.” Cyrus lightly massaged his right shoulder as he considered his next move.
“Are you always this mean, or do I just bring the best out of you?” Tanner said while adjusting his jaw and grimacing.
“You force me to raise the bar because you know what you’re doing. Honestly, I have to step outside of myself to even think about beating you, kung fu, chess, or academics. At least when sparring, I can pretty much forget about winning unless you slack off.”
“But it’s not all about winning or losing.”
“It isn’t, but I try to avoid making a habit of losing.” Cyrus advanced his king-side bishop.
“Sounds like pride to me.” Although unorthodox, Tanner had seen this opening before, and had lost to it, yet he still felt unprepared.
“Maybe, but it’s the only thing that gets me through some days.”
“You know, they say pride comes before a fall.” Tanner advanced his queen’s pawn one space ahead. He took a different approach than the last time in hopes it would open room for his own attack.
“That’s funny, because I don’t really plan on falling without mine.” Cyrus rubbed his shoulder again and moved his queen-side knight’s pawn a space ahead, defending his bishop.
Tanner shook his head. “Always something new with you. You have to be the most unorthodox chess player I have ever lost to.”
“I never claimed to be a chess player.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Tanner was in a chokehold. All the moves he would have wanted to make had been taken away from him. He moved his queen-side bishop ahead one space. It was safe, but it felt like a waste. Again his opening gamut was shot from the second move.
Cyrus could see the lines stretching across Tanner’s forehead. Frustration manifested itself on his brow the same way it did on Darius’s face.
“I’m glad you brought a corporeal chessboard. The holographic chessboards are so… alienating.” Cyrus looked deliberately at the board as if the key to his next move lay somehow beneath it.
“What do you mean?”
“Holographic pieces are so fleeting. They get captured, they disappear. You speak a command and they come back.” Cyrus lifted his queen off the board and held it between them by the head. “Here, you lose a piece, you feel it. When it’s over, the king hits the board, the sound resonates through the air and makes you painfully aware of what you just lost.” His last words barely es
caped the air in front of his lips. The queen teetered and then settled between two squares as he set it back on the board. “Let’s finish later.” Cyrus turned as he got up and walked to the door, his head hung lower than when he walked in.
• • • • •
“Here, put this on,” Dr. Davidson removed two gas masks from his backpack and handed one to Cyrus.
Cyrus looked at him as if he had just handed him a birth control calendar. “What the heck am I supposed to do with this?”
“Put it on your face, unless you want to pass out from methane inhalation.” The snap of the filtered mask to Dr. Davidson’s face punctuated his sentence.
“Funny, I don’t smell anything,” Cyrus added as he fastened his own mask to his face; he wasn’t the type to have to get hit with the hammer to believe it hurt.
“That’s because pure methane is odorless. The smell comes from additives that make leak detection easier,” Dr. Davidson adjusted his hip waiters and put his hand near the button to open the door.
“So this... poo gas… helps make our food?” Cyrus asked. The mask amplified his voice slightly, but it still sounded like it was stifling his words.
“No, the methane is used for ambient heat and cooking. The CO2 and water formed from the burning are used in the hydroponic mist. The room we are about to go into stores our waste products until they are broken down into component parts for recycling. Once we land, this room can help make soil we can use to start agriculture on the planet.”
The door slid open and Cyrus was sure he could smell the funk of the room through the filtered mask. A mesh catwalk rimmed the circular room and separated the two scientists from the slowly churning unction of a little more than three years of accumulated muck. As Cyrus looked apprehensively at the swirling lake of filth, he begged a question through the comm-link of the mask, “I’m curious, what about me made me the best candidate to muck about with you in this god-forsaken lavpool?”