The Seventh Glitch

by Ronel van Tonder

  “Can I have my gun back too, sir?”

  Lucy spun to the kid with a scowl on his face, meeting nothing but wide-eyed innocence.

  “Please, sir. If it gets hairy in there, at least I can shoot some guys.”

  Taking a deep breath, Lucy dropped their rifles on the ground. After a moment’s thought, he dropped their night vision goggles and two med-packs on the floor too. His eyes caught Serious Sam’s. For once, the player didn’t look down.

  “Suppose you want a gun too.”

  Sam straightened and took a hesitant step toward Lucy.

  “I’ll be a sitting duck in there without one.”

  “I care?” Lucy asked.

  “Guess not.” Sam dropped his eyes again. “But if I die, then you’ll have to deploy the payload yourself.”

  “I’ll risk it,” Lucy said.

  He’d been so close. Minutes away from exiting. He could barely think straight anymore, and now they still had to retrieve the rootkit from whatever fucking rift Kitty had left it in? What if it was a rift that had glitched out of existence? What if she’d left it in—

  “It’s not in Polaris, is it?” Lucy asked, spinning around.

  Kitty clutched her rifle against her chest. She was already shaking her head before she stiffened up and glared at him. He could see her mental wheels churning before her shoulders slumped.

  “Good. Because if I do this?” He stabbed a finger at the HQ “If I find your William and it turns out that rootkit’s been destroyed?”

  Kitty rolled her eyes at him. “You’ll kill me, right?”

  Lucy turned his attention back to HQ. He stared at the building for a few seconds, studying its outline as he recalled the layout. This was his seventh visit to The Game. He’d played through Torque and Fantasia in a single session: those rifts’s maps were tiny compared with the others. Plus, he hadn’t exactly been playing by the rules. Then he’d been back another five times, staking out the remaining rifts, memorising stats, game objects, weapons, NPC’s: anything he needed to know before this, his final session.

  No one had been able to predict what would happen when he deployed the payload. Even now, he couldn’t be sure. But judging from the way The Game had reacted to the dropper and loaders, he could safely say that deploying the payload would have dire consequences to any player still inside The Game.

  Maybe he could convert the payload into a logic bomb, installing a timer that would give him enough time to get back into Fantasia and find Cherry. See if she survived her rift’s glitch, if Fantasia still existed.

  No. She would have gone to the Arena like all the other players, if she was still alive.

  Just like him, his seeders all had legit licenses. It would have been ironic, getting spotted by the mods because they were running a pirated copy of The Game and then getting kicked. It hadn’t stopped them running into trouble, of course. Using cheat codes to prise open game mechanics and expose shortcuts and thoroughfares where there shouldn’t have been any meant the eye in the sky was usually fixed heavily on them.

  That’s why Kitty had been such an integral part of the plan.

  “If we’re going to do this, then it has to happen now,” Lucy said, turning to Kitty.

  Kitty’s rifle was trained on Lucy. She wore a deep scowl, her grip tense, her stance rigid. He resisted the urge to flinch, but his jaw tightened regardless. Glancing down at the rifle, he lifted his eyes to Kitty’s again, eyebrows twitching.

  “Going to shoot me, mate?”

  Kitty pursed her lips. “Not yet.” The rifle disappeared.

  “Not yet?”

  “I don’t feel like it right now. Maybe later. Who knows?” She shrugged and turned to the HQ, pushing back her shoulders.

  “Ready?” Lucy asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Then let’s go get your William,” Lucy said, trying to ignore an irritatingly persistent thought about how he could have forced Kitty to tell him where the rootkit was and then offed her.

  After all, how could he kill her if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he wouldn’t need to use her again?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hashing the Packets

  It was unnerving having Lucy behind her; armed and unquestionably dangerous. They crept along the wide corridor leading away from HQ’s front entrance. The passage beyond was as unguarded as the entrance had been. Lucy had only just stopped complaining about it.

  The only sound in the darkened corridor was the shuffle of feet, the creaking of leather, and the tiny metallic sounds of weapons being shifted around as the party manoeuvred through the hallway. Brad was in the lead with Serious Sam less than a metre behind him. Kitty was behind Sam with Lucy breathing down her neck and again murmuring under his breath.

  “What’s that?” she asked, a touch more violently than she’d intended.

  “Nothing. Keep moving.”

  “As opposed to stopping and being found?” Kitty snorted. “Yup, I think I’ll keep moving.”

  “Keep it down,” Lucy whispered.

  “You keep it down.”

  Lucy’s sigh was definitely louder than all the talking she’d done, that was for sure. Brad threw out a hand signal that obviously meant something to Sam and Lucy: all three men stopped and began conferring with each other in hushed whispers.

  Kitty rolled her eyes and rested her rifle over her knees as she leaned her back against the wall.

  The bunker looked abandoned; why the hell were they creeping around like a bunch of rogues in a haunted cave? There were four of them, so couldn’t they just charge in, grab Will, and—

  Something poked her in the ribs.

  She glared at Lucy, who widened his black eyes at her and jabbed out his chin. Kitty sidled down the hallway again, grimacing at the bleak interior of the bunker. A few tasteful cobwebs and scattered bones would really have livened up the place. This was just so damned boring.

  Brad turned a corner, Sam following with an expressionless glance toward Lucy.

  “You know he’s going to kill you the first chance he gets?” Kitty said.

  Lucy made an angry sound. “Keep it—”

  “I’m whispering,” Kitty hissed. “What more do you want from me?”

  “To shut the hell up.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “And I just heard you saying it, so you can stop now.”

  Kitty shook her head and leaned out, peeking around the corner.

  “Clear,” she said.

  Behind her, Lucy sighed.

  The corridor they turned into was narrower than the first, but just as deserted. It turned out to be one of many such corridors, all just as empty as the first. The Game’s music wasn’t helping her frame of mind; there was a haunting ambiance floating around just above earshot. It kept making her spin around, only to catch a ferocious glare from Lucy, before facing forward again and trying to ignore the spiders dancing up her spine.

  Finally, Brad made an expressive gesture with his hand, bringing their line to a halt.

  “We’re at the interrogation rooms,” Lucy whispered.

  Kitty jerked, her elbow catching Lucy in his stomach. She glared at him as he whipped out a med-pack to address the sudden drop in his health.

  “Don’t sneak up on me when I’m holding a loaded rifle,” she said. “I could have blown your fucking head off.”

  “You knew I was behind you, mate,” Lucy said.

  “Behind me, yes. On top of me, no.”

  Lucy’s lips quivered for a second as if he was trying to suppress a smile, and then he flattened them into a straight line.

  “When we go in, the interrogation rooms are on the left, canteen and other places on the right. You keep your head down.” Lucy pointed out Brad. “Between you and the kid, you’ll need to search the rooms to see which one William’s in. Me and Sam will stay in the corridor and make sure no one spots us and lives to talk about it.”

  “Why don’t we just go in and kill everyone?
”

  Lucy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I told you, Kitty. Mods roam these halls, not normal players. They’ll take us out in an open fight. We do this in stealth mode, or we don’t do it at all.”

  “Fine, whatever,” Kitty muttered.

  “You remember how I showed you—”

  “Ja fine. My stealth bar can’t go in the red. I’m not a moron. I just don’t like these stupid point and shoot games.”

  “First person—”

  “Whatever. Can we get on with it?”

  “Getting on with it,” Lucy said.

  He sidled past her, holding a brief conversation with each player before disappearing around the corner. Brad was next, followed by Sam. Kitty gave the dark hallway behind her a last, lingering glance before following.

  There were doors, just like Lucy’d promised. They ran the length of the hallway, equally spaced on either side. Whoever designed Bang-Bang’s levels had absolutely zero imagination and was possibly OCD. Why couldn’t they at least have put some blood streaks on the walls or something?

  Lucy was staring at the new passage with narrowed eyes, a frown between his brows, almost as if he could see through the walls into the space behind.

  Maybe he could. Maybe he could read The Game’s code like Neo in the Matrix, when he became The One. But if Lucy was that powerful, then a lot of what they’d been through to get to this point wouldn’t have happened, would it? If he had the power to bend The Game around him, then he could have already hacked it apart. Right?

  Which meant he wasn’t omnipotent. Or omniscient. He was as godly as her or Brad or Panda—Serious Sam. She turned her gaze to the man huddling against the wall a few metres away. Gone was the blazing stare of earlier, when he’d been about to take off Kitty’s head with his knife. He was nothing more than a shivering avatar now, eyes permanently downcast. What power did Lucy have over him? Or was it some kind of hacker ranking that meant Lucy could order him to fall on his own bayonet and Sam would have to do it? Besides, that was pretty much what Lucy had said, wasn’t it? Whatever Serious Sam had to do, it was going to be suicide.

  Did that mean Lucy’s entire mission in this game had been just that: a suicide mission? Some kamikaze affair that he knew would leave him stranded in The Game and therefore comatose in real life?

  And he’d still agreed to it?

  Lucy threw a mysterious hand signal at her, and then at the first door. She nodded and crabbed over to the wall, taking a few deep breaths before reaching up to grab the handle. Inside, darkness greeted her. She fumbled for a light switch, found it, flicked it on. Light blossomed, whiting out the room before settling into a lighter yellow hue. There was a single chair, a grimy window, and an even smaller room beyond.

  Empty.

  When she exited the room, the three players had moved down the hall and were waiting opposite the next interrogation room.

  Brad slipped inside.

  Lucy threw her a questioning look, and she shook her head. He nodded and gestured at the third door.

  Kitty sidled along the wall, eyes focused on the next room’s handle. She passed the open interrogation room and glanced inside. Brad was inside, his avatar scanning the room. Kitty slipped inside the next one, repeating the procedure.

  She exited seconds later, again shaking her head at Lucy.

  By the time he gestured for the fifth door, she was already moving toward it. Brad had left the fourth door open and was whispering something to Lucy.

  There was a violent clang. The sound emanated from behind the fifth door.

  Her strangled gasp was echoed by the sound of three guns focusing at the door.

  “William,” Lucy mouthed, jutting out his chin again.

  “No way!” Kitty mouthed back, shaking her head.

  “He’s in there,” Lucy replied.

  The other two players watched their silent debate with deadpan expressions.

  “Fine,” Kitty spat quietly, and hoisted up her rifle again.

  She crept forward. Her fingers touched the metal of the handle. Then the door opposite her cracked open.

  Lucy moved so fast that she was still taking breath to scream when he barrelled into her, dragging her into the room Brad had left open. All four of them ended up in a tangle of limbs and guns and straps, freezing at the sound of a door opening.

  Footsteps moved across the hallway. Another door opened. It closed again a second later. Brad slid out from their rigid pile of avatars and gently closed the door of interrogation room four. He sagged down with his back pressed against the door and sighed heavily.

  “That was close,” Kitty said. “Could you get off me, please?”

  Sam and Lucy rose. The room was crowded with the four of them standing in it. Kitty kept shifting between a stand and a crouch at the slightest suggestion of a noise coming from the room next door.

  “You think he’s in there, sir?” Brad asked Lucy in a whisper.

  “Must be. All the other rooms are empty.”

  “Could be further down the hall, sir. We could check those so long.”

  “Too risky. We wait.”

  And so they waited.

  . . .

  The chair rebounded from the spotted two-way mirror with a clang, skittering across the floor and nearly striking William’s avatar before he could dart away.

  This provoked the same reaction as before: nothing.

  He’d screamed, yelled, cursed (this was the fifth time he’d thrown the chair), and he’d even tried pleading once, just for the hell of it. But the person behind the glass — if there was one — hadn’t retorted, not even once. William retrieved his chair, slammed it down in front of a tilted table, and plonked himself down.

  After a long, defiant glare at his own mottled reflection, he slid his arms over the desk and retrieved the packet of cigarettes lying beside an overflowing ashtray. Coffee rings were the only other decoration on the table’s rusting surface.

  He tugged at the cigarette, pinching the bridge of his nose as he blew out smoke. It did nothing for his cravings, of course. He got up at least once a night to have a quick puff: after so long deprived his body was crawling with need.

  The door banged open.

  General Killjoy strode through. The grizzled officer gave William a cursory glance before stepping aside. A tall man entered after him, ducking to avoid bumping his pointy hat against the door frame.

  “Wrong rift, buddy,” William said, stabbing his thumb to the left. “Chimera’s that way.”

  “Aha,” the wizard said. The edges of his lips twitched into a beguiling smile. “I haven’t heard… that one before, I’m sure.”

  “Shut it, player.” Killjoy slammed both hands down on the table, rattling the ashtray. “We’ll be the ones asking questions here, got it?”

  William sneered at him, but Killjoy didn’t seem to notice. Instead, the general straightened and gestured at William with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “What are you expecting to find here, Rumple? He’s a pirate, that’s it. I need to book him and get him the fuck out of here, not waste time with your—”

  “I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m… finished.” The wizard stepped forward, ignoring the general’s tight-lipped expression. He spoke in a gentle voice, but with odd pauses in his sentences that made it sound like he was deep in thought and his attention kept straying away from the conversation. “Give us some privacy, will you?”

  “Fucking gay magic shit,” the general muttered as he headed for the door.

  “It’s a… sophisticated—” the wizard began, but the slamming door ended his sentence short.

  His purple robes flared as he spun around and walked up to William. The guy’s avatar was tall and scraggly, with a long beard that reached his belt. It was braided. And it had a bell on the end.

  Rumple paused beside William, laying a hand on the back of his neck. William jerked free. The wizard snapped his fingers, his expression not altering one bit, and reached out ag
ain. This time William couldn’t have pulled away if he tried. His eyes fled to the two-way mirror, widening when he saw the suggestion of a shadow behind his own reflection.

  There hadn’t been anyone inside the room before.

  Now there was. Watching.

  Watching… what?

  The wizard’s hand trailed up the back of his neck, his palm arching until just the tips of his fingers touched William’s skull. He would have protested, but his lips felt as if they’d fused together. Nothing beyond a tiny mewling sound emerged.

  “Steady now,” the wizard said in a silvery voice. “Tell me, DASHING_WILLIAM_19… what was the last… rift you were in?”

  Unbidden, William’s mind fled back to Play. Brief flashes of thought illuminated his mind: the melting mansion, Lucy trapped in grass, Lucy in the blue room, Kitty in her maid’s outfit, him trying to herd the kids, landing in a swimming pool. There were plenty flashes of naked skin in the mix, too.

  “Yes, I see.” The wizard’s grip tightened. “Focus on the glitch. You were there, I saw that. What do you remember of… the glitch?”

  The kid tearing herself in half. The mansion melting. Lucy stuck in grass. Kitty falling through the tree house. Lucy in the blue room. A scream—

  “Who’s this player Lucy whom you are so fond of?” The wizard’s other hand came to rest on William’s shoulder. “What… do you remember of him?”

  William tried to stem the sudden flow of thoughts, but it was like cupping water from a waterfall; the stream was too powerful, too large for him to contain. Thoughts filled his mind in a flash, overlapping and merging.

  The wizard must be doing something to him, calling back things he didn’t even remember: a change in Lucy’s expression caught from the corner of Will’s eye, Kitty’s eyes darting away at mention of Lucy’s name, a tone in the guy’s voice when he first met William.

  He’d been there, he knew that. But these snippets didn’t exist. Was he losing his mind? Abruptly, his train of thought was diverted to a screaming onslaught of panic.

  He was going insane.

  He’d been inside The Game too long.