Reaper

by Janet Edwards

  Hawk grinned. “I’m hoping it won’t just annoy the Reaper, but make him so furiously angry that he can’t resist attacking me.”

  I chose my words carefully. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The Reaper may have changed himself from a Game Tech to a player, but he’ll still be dangerous.”

  “The Reaper has hidden himself among fifty billion players,” said Hawk. “We seem to have no way to track him down, so the only way forward is to provoke him into doing something that gives away his new identity.”

  “Yah,” I said doubtfully, then remembered I was a player in Game now and should speak properly. “I mean, yes,” I hastily corrected myself, “but using yourself as bait to lure him out is asking for trouble.”

  “The Reaper shouldn’t be able to bomb server complexes any longer, so he can’t crash the Game world that I’m visiting. He can’t get through the security at the United Law facility to harm my freezer unit either. If there’s no way for him to attack me in the real world, he’ll have to attack me in Game, and I’m a legendary fighter.”

  I groaned. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

  Hawk waved both hands, palms upwards. “Cassandra told us that the players are getting hysterical. I have to tell them something reassuring. They’ll be a lot happier if I say that the bomber is dead, and we just have to tidy up the loose end of finding his accomplice in Game.”

  “Exactly what are you planning to tell the players about Tomath?” asked Kwame. “It would be unwise to add further fuel to the existing anger against teenagers in the real world.”

  “There was a point when Jex, Nathan, and I thought that the bomber might be a player in Game who was a current or past member of a server complex maintenance team,” said Hawk. “I can use that idea now.”

  “This version of events seems highly preferable to publicizing the truth,” said Kwame.

  “I’ll just give a bare outline of the story in this broadcast,” said Hawk. “We can tell people more details later, when we’ve had time to think through any flaws in the story and come up with a convincing motive for Tomath attacking Game worlds.”

  He moved across to the screens. “I need to talk to Cassandra now.”

  Kwame nodded. “Please request the assistance of a Game Tech when you are ready to make the broadcast.”

  Kwame vanished into thin air. I pictured him reappearing in a mysterious backstage area of Ganymede, accessible only to the Game Techs. I found myself imagining those areas as being like the dream I’d had entering Game. Grey and featureless places.

  Hawk sat down at his screens, waved a hand, and Cassandra appeared beside him. Not the full Cassandra, just an image of her head and upper body, floating in midair.

  “I’ve prepared a condensed version of the main Game news stories for you,” she said.

  Text started rolling down one of the screens, and Hawk leaned forward to study it. “What’s the general Game mood now?”

  “The players are deeply worried about the situation, sympathetic to their hero Hawk, eagerly anticipating what you have to say.”

  Hawk concentrated on the text floating past his eyes for a moment longer, and then his face suddenly changed. “I don’t believe this! One, two, three ...”

  When he finished counting to ten, he started swearing, using archaic words that no longer carried much meaning. After a few seconds, he got control back, and looked first at me and then at the image of Cassandra.

  “Sorry about the language.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t understand most of it. These days everyone tends to say wrecked, or shout about Behemoth’s backside, or something more ...” I coughed.

  Cassandra smiled. “The Sisterhood of Celestius should make you wash your mouth out with soap, Hawk, but I understand your reaction. I’m as appalled as you by what’s been happening.”

  Hawk stood up. “I know you told me people were hysterical, but how could they behave like this?”

  “The situation exploded after you defrosted,” Cassandra said. “I made an appeal for calm, but was ignored. You couldn’t do anything from outside Game, and I couldn’t drag you back here when you were in the middle of chasing the bomber.”

  I’d no idea what was going on, but I could hardly interrupt an intense conversation between two legends of the Game and demand explanations. Things would surely become clear soon.

  “This is my fault,” said Hawk. “I told you to announce I’d defrosted to chase the bomber in real life. The population of Game would have taken that as confirmation real life teenagers were responsible for the bombings.”

  “The situation was already out of control before that,” said Cassandra, “and anyway you aren’t responsible for the actions of other players.”

  Hawk ignored her. “Game command. Request Game Tech assistance. Kwame, get back here right now!”

  Kwame appeared and gave him a reproving look. “You wish the assistance of an appropriate Game Tech?”

  “I wish to strangle someone,” said Hawk. “I’ve just discovered why you said it would be unwise to add further fuel to the existing anger against teenagers in the real world. How did the Game Techs let things get this bad? Witch hunts in Game!”

  I blinked. What did Hawk mean by witch hunts?

  “Emotions ran very high at the Avalon memorial service,” said Kwame. “Every player in Game was watching it, and unfortunate things were said by survivors who were mourning their dead friends and lovers.”

  “Fifty billion frightened and angry people, Hawk,” said Cassandra. “They felt the investigations weren’t achieving anything, and the calls for revenge at the Avalon memorial service made some of them decide to take action themselves. Since the bombing was in the real world ...”

  “So this was just like the panic mass arrest of kids from the body stacks,” Hawk’s voice was icy with anger. “If you can’t get the real bomber, then pick a random target for your rage. Attack the new players who’ve recently entered the Game.”

  He shook his head. “Simple logic should tell everyone that those new players must have entered Game before the Leebrook Ashton bill raised the age for entering Game to nineteen. That means they were in Game themselves when the bombing happened, but logic doesn’t matter here. The new players have come from the real world, they symbolize the place that hurt you, so hurl your accusations, insults and stones at them anyway!”

  I understood what this was about now. People were being attacked. People who’d recently entered Game. People like me!

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Hawk glared at Kwame. “Why didn’t the Game Techs stop this?”

  “We did everything we could,” said Kwame. “Initially, only a few new players were being targeted, and we allocated them Game Tech bodyguards. After the speeches at the Avalon memorial, events suddenly escalated.”

  He waved one hand in a gesture of helplessness. “Every player wearing a bronze bracelet was suffering abuse or worse. Official announcements condemning the behaviour and threatening punishments for the guilty parties had little effect. It was impossible to allocate Game Techs to guard every player wearing a bronze bracelet, especially when our top priority had to be making changes vital to the safety of Game.”

  “Why didn’t you just change all the bronze bracelets into silver?” demanded Hawk.

  “That solution was considered. The sole reason players wear a bronze bracelet for their first year in Game is to let other players know they are new to Game and may need assistance. We decided against changing the bracelets. We were concerned it would just increase the problem by making those wearing silver bracelets into targets as well.”

  Kwame paused. “I assure you that all those wearing bronze bracelets are now safe from harm.”

  “Safe, yes,” said Hawk. “With a choice of being kept under voluntary house arrest for their own protection, or moving to live on a prison world with their fellow social outcasts.”

  “Indigo is a very beautiful Game world,” said Kwame. “These people
have the chance to visit a world that would not normally be open to players until the next Game Anniversary, and the Game Techs patrolling there are not prison warders but ensuring their safety.”

  “Indigo may be positively idyllic,” said Hawk, “but it doesn’t change the fact that the new players have been driven into hiding there by an angry mob. I’ve learned a lot about the lives kids lead these days. They spend the first ten years of their lives living in dormitories. If they’re lucky, they’ll get a call from a parent in Game every week or two which gives them limited protection, but many are totally ignored and an easy target for bullying older children.”

  “It is unfortunate that ...”

  Kwame’s attempt to speak was drowned out as Hawk ranted on. “At ten years old, they have to leave school, find a place to live, and slave away working twelve-hour shifts every day. It’s a harsh existence, and the only thing that keeps them going is their dreams of Game. They spend years planning their Game future, saving every credit they can towards their Game subscription. The new players in Game, the ones wearing bronze bracelets now, must have thought themselves so lucky. They’d just made it into Game before the Leebrook Ashton bill sentenced them to another year of drudgery. They had a few weeks or months in their longed for new homes, were living their dream at last, but now ...”

  Hawk shook his head. “One minute they had welcoming neighbours and people who were becoming new friends, the next everyone turned against them and they had to go into hiding on Indigo. Do you think they’ll ever want to go back to their dream worlds after this? Do you think they’ll want to live next door to the people who spat insults and threw stones at them? And what about Jex? She risked her life to keep the players in Game safe. It’s obscene to think of those same players attacking her.”

  Kwame kept warily quiet, and I was too shocked to speak. What Hawk had said about the refugees on Indigo was perfectly true. Their dream worlds would be forever soured for them, the mere mention of their names conjuring up horrible memories. I didn’t want to feel that way about Ganymede. I’d spent so many years picturing my idyllic future here. It mustn’t become a place like my old dormitory, remembered with a shudder of relief that I’d escaped it. I mustn’t risk going out of my house, not even for a second.

  I rubbed my hand across my eyes. There’d been the intense strain of the last few days, the nervous high of waking up in Game, and now this hammer blow. I was feeling overwhelmed by it all.

  “We can inform all Ganymede residents that Jex is here by your personal recommendation, Hawk,” said Cassandra.

  “No, we can’t,” said Hawk. “When we arranged for Jex to be given resident status on Ganymede, we swore the members of the Admission Committee to secrecy about her connection to me.”

  I frowned. Hawk hadn’t told me that particular detail.

  “Admission Committee members see lots of confidential information on players’ applications for residence,” Hawk continued. “They’re used to keeping secrets, but we can’t expect the whole population of Ganymede to be that discreet. If we tell them that Jex is here by my recommendation, the story will be on every Game news channel within minutes, and the Reaper will see it. There’s no point in stopping people throwing rocks at Jex if it means inviting the Reaper to come to Ganymede and do something far worse.”

  “The protective measures you requested for Player Jex have already been put into place,” said Kwame. “It would also be possible to change her bracelet from bronze to silver. Making that change for a single player would have no negative consequences.”

  “Protecting Jex isn’t enough.” Hawk turned to face Cassandra. “Do you remember lecturing me centuries ago, Cassandra? I’d been whining about how I’d been bullied as a boy in real life, and you told me that I had the chance to do something about that now. You said that the Founder Players had been given a powerful position in Game, and I could use that power to help people who were suffering from bullying or other injustice. That hit home. I’ve tried to have Hawk help people whenever possible, and we need to help all the new players now.”

  “I totally agree,” said Cassandra. “The player population wouldn’t listen to the Game Techs, they wouldn’t listen to me, but they may listen to you, Hawk. There’s now less than five minutes to go before your broadcast.”

  Hawk hesitated. “I can think of one thing I could say to help the new players, but I’m worried it might cause other problems. No, now I stop to think about it, I’ve already caused those problems.”

  He slapped his forehead with his right hand. “It was a mistake to tell people that I’d defrosted. It was an even worse mistake to tell them I’d been wounded. I should think harder before I open my big mouth.”

  “You have four minutes to think hard before you open your big mouth,” said Cassandra calmly. “Are you broadcasting from Jex’s home, or coming back to Celestius?”

  “I don’t think I should broadcast at all,” said Hawk. “I need to discuss something with Jex. Can we delay this an hour?”

  “Do I really need to answer that?” asked Cassandra.

  Hawk groaned. “I’ll broadcast from here. Kwame, can you make it look like I’m on Celestius?”

  One wall of the room turned brilliant white, and then showed an image of a marble tower.

  “Three minutes,” said Cassandra.

  Hawk went to stand in front of the tower. Suddenly it wasn’t just an image, the tower seemed to be physically present, appearing through the floor of the room and continuing up through the ceiling. There was an elegant balcony encircling the tower, and Hawk was standing on it.

  “Game broadcast channel is now open,” said Kwame. “We’re running Cassandra’s pre-recorded introduction.”

  “Two minutes,” said Cassandra.

  “I hate making broadcasts. I hate it. I always hate it,” complained Hawk. “Why me? Why do you people always pick on me? Why can’t you let me stick to killing monsters?”

  I stared at him, drawn out of my personal misery for a moment by the shock of seeing Hawk totally lose his calm assurance.

  Cassandra smiled at me. “Hawk always gets last minute nerves before making a broadcast. One minute.”

  Hawk buried his face in his hands for thirty seconds, then smoothed his feathered hair into place, and shook his robe into position. He took a deep breath.

  “Three, two, one.” Cassandra gave a nod.

  Hawk looked perfectly calm and relaxed now. “Hello, everyone. I apologize that you haven’t had an update from me for a while. Cassandra has already told you that I’d defrosted to chase the bomber. I can now tell you that there were actually two people involved in the Avalon world crash. The bomber had an accomplice helping him with the simpler, menial jobs.”

  Hawk paused for a second. “The bomber was a lifetime subscription holder who’d been in Game for over three centuries. He’d originally done work involving explosives, before moving to work on a server complex maintenance team, so he was able to use his old knowledge to crash Avalon. The accomplice was another lifetime subscription holder, who was hiding his true identity behind the ludicrous name of the Reaper.”

  I blinked. Hawk was obviously determined to make the Reaper as angry as possible.

  “When I got close to catching the bomber in Game,” said Hawk, “he defrosted to hide in the real world, and gave himself a new identity as a man called Tomath. I defrosted too, returning to the real world for the first time in four centuries to chase him down.”

  Hawk gave a rueful laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have run off and defrosted like that, but I had two teenagers assisting me in the real world. The plan for hunting down the bomber involved one of them taking huge risks. I felt I couldn’t stay safely in Game while that was happening, so I went along to help.”

  I was still shocked after hearing about the witch hunts. Now I had something new to worry about. I hadn’t expected Hawk to mention me or Nathan in this broadcast. How would that affect my situation?

  “The plan was tha
t we’d get ourselves recruited to help with the next bombing,” said Hawk. “I doubt that we could have fooled Tomath into recruiting us, but fortunately his accomplice, the Reaper, is far less intelligent, suffering from massive ego problems and delusions of being the rightful ruler of Game.”

  I pictured how the Reaper would feel listening to this broadcast, and choked.

  “Not so fortunately, the Reaper’s twisted fantasies meant I had to act a part I hated and do dreadful things to please him.” Hawk grimaced. “I thought for a while that I’d killed my own assistant, not a Game death but a real death, and I’ve never felt so devastated in my whole life.”

  Cassandra’s image had been watching Hawk, but now I saw her head turn sharply to look at me instead. Hawk had said the experience of being in a Game body matched real life very closely these days. He was right. I could feel myself growing hot with embarrassment at the curiosity in Cassandra’s eyes. I forced myself to concentrate on what Hawk was saying.

  “Well, the plan worked. The Reaper recruited me, and sent me off to collect the bombs from Tomath and plant them at a server complex.” Hawk spoke in a voice of self-mockery. “You should have seen me back then. Imagine my nerves in case I dropped a bomb. Imagine my joy when I was finally able to dump them. I was just running away when the bomber decided to blow them up and get rid of me.”

  He paused. “I survived, but the bomber was less lucky. He didn’t know that I’d planted one of his own bombs in his room. When he detonated the bombs I was carrying, the bomb in his room exploded too. Tomath was killed, and I’m not crying about that.”

  He was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I’m back in Game now and hunting Tomath’s accomplice. The Reaper isn’t nearly as dangerous as Tomath was, but he still has to be dealt with as soon as possible.”

  Hawk’s expression hardened into something cold and grim. “I’ve one final point to make. Everyone has been understandably distressed and angry about the deaths during the Avalon world crash. Some people have been venting their anger in exactly the wrong direction, attacking the players wearing bronze bracelets. Let me say this one more time to make it absolutely clear. Tomath was a lifetime subscription holder wearing a gold bracelet. The Reaper is a lifetime subscription holder wearing a gold bracelet.”