Gaming the System

by P A Wikoff

  “Sorry. I just want a shorter name. It’s nothing personal,” I said, pointing at my bowling shirt’s nametag which read “Jim.” I loved that name. It was simple, short, easy to spell, quick to remember, and very rare. Sure, I knew a couple people named Earthworm Jim, but never just plain old Jim. Unfortunately, as much as I wanted it to be my given name, it wasn’t.

  “Okay…Seph,” she said, adding a lingering hiss to the end. “Thank you for apologizing.”

  “Can you just…?” I waved my hand across the wall displaying her face.

  “Oh, sorry. I always forget. Just give me a sec.” She scrambled outside of the camera’s view for a moment. The camera changed to the one located inside her VR helmet, making her face even larger than previously displayed. Her squished cheeks made her look like a chipmunk when she spoke. “Why don’t you join today’s global raid? You don’t need to make a character. I have a pregen for you.”

  I shrugged my shoulders at her offer. I remembered the last time I played a game with my parents. I glitched out their game somehow and lost two days of their progress, which is a lot when you play as many hours as they do.

  “They’re introducing a demo for the next big MMORPG, Dreamscape Online.”

  “You mean, ‘Mostly Men Online Role Play as Girls’? No thank you.”

  “Hey, I’m a girl!”

  “You’re a mom. And besides, you always play as a dude.”

  “You leave Thanos out of this. You know what a pickle I’m in. I’ve been that avatar for over twenty years. If I changed now, it would upset some of my longest and closest friends. Sally and Jeff attended sixty of my weddings.”

  “Online weddings, yes. And they don’t count as the real thing, you know.”

  “They are real enough to me and your father.”

  “I’m real, too. You may have had Thanos for twenty years, but you’ve also had me for twenty years, you know, right?”

  “And that must be why I don’t want you to change your adorable name. I like you just the way you are.” She scrunched up her nose and shook her head back and forth.

  “I didn’t change it. I just made it shorter, like a nickname or…” I snapped my fingers together a couple of times looking for the words. “…a call sign. Like what Thanos is to you.”

  “Thanos is much more than just a nickname. He’s my legacy.”

  I rolled my eyes slightly. This was going nowhere. I couldn’t start another real vs fake debate with my mother. Even if I won the argument, it would only result in me negating their whole life, and for what? No, it was best to let her live out her ignorant existence in a silly game roleplaying as whatever she wanted. I couldn’t make everyone as miserable as I was.

  Instantly, the wall screen split into two. Now half of it was the camera from inside my father’s VR helmet. His bushy beard was covering most of the lens. “If you go out, can you pick up my gear set for the launch? The postal drones are overworked due the release, and there is a possibility that it won’t be delivered until tomorrow.”

  There he was again, putting his online needs over my own. “I have plans.”

  “So change them. The launch is at midnight, and we really need those chamber pods, son.”

  Midnight releases were the worst. They never went smoothly, and my parents were always cranky at that hour.

  “Pods? That sounds big. Will the electro tether on my bike be able to pull them?”

  “You can take the cruiser.”

  Without warning, the soft and soothing voice of the house A.I. cut in. “The desired package, A4332-6, has a mass of .3234 metric tons. Currently the benchmark of your tether is…”

  “Just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ please!” I interrupted brashly. The house A.I. was always getting in the way.

  “A green thumbs-up emoji overlaid my parents’ faces.”

  “Well, there you have it,” I said.

  The house A.I. was programmed to be more like a family member than a maid or personal assistant. The A.I. even played games with my parents, and let them win, I might add. Sometimes I wondered if they installed the thing because I was such a disappointment to them.

  I’m positive that the A.I. was the one who alerted my parents that I was going outside. Probably some notification alerts them every time I pick up my out bag or something like that. It was always getting me in trouble like this.

  “Excuse me, Sephiroth, you might want to use the facilities before making your way to the postal center.

  “Maybe you’re glitching out because I don’t have to go, okay?”

  “Don’t be rude to Alice. She’s only trying to be helpful,” my father said.

  “It’s not a she. It’s an ‘it,’ an artificial intelligence.”

  “I can change my gender preference if you would prefer a different sex. Truthfully, I am most comfortable as a non-binary entity.”

  “Mute,” I said, and the A.I.’s voice went silent. “Fine, fine. I’ll do your little fetch quest, this one time. Only because someone can’t leave the house.” I knew I had to do this task for them. They rarely asked me to do anything, and they provided me everything I could ever need. It wasn’t their fault that I was difficult. Plus, I needed to score points with them whenever I could. This was one task A.L.I.C.E. was unable to do.

  “Thanks. That gear is really going to be seamless. Really next-level stuff.”

  “If you say so,” I said with a wave of my hand over my shoulder as I headed towards the door to the garage.

  “He’s always so snippy when he has to use the restroom,” my mother whispered. If her mic wasn’t so crystal clear, I probably wouldn’t have heard it. I ignored her comment because I might have actually pissed myself if I had hung around any longer.

  “If you’re really going out there, just be back before dark, okay?” my mother asked with a modest smile.

  “It’s always dark.”

  “You know what I mean. Before night.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “And eat something,” she quickly added, trying to catch me still in the act of nodding.

  It was an interesting trick, but I went along with it all the same. It wasn’t like I was planning on fasting or anything.

  Installed next to the garage door, the printer started to make a keycard imprinted with my dad’s authorization information on it. This could take a couple minutes.

  Opening the micro-cling snaps that kept my bag closed, I emptied its contents onto the entryway floor, creating a heap. There were a pair of sensory gloves, reinforced prehensile boots, an O2 satchel equipped with smell-enhancing filter casing, ultraviolet-reducing goggles, a black geometric-hooded grounding coat, and an elements field umbrella. One piece at a time, I readied myself for the vicious outside world.

  It felt stiff to move in all this getup, but it was a necessary precaution when adventuring beyond.

  Snatching up the newly imprinted keycard, I shoved it in my pocket then made my way into the garage.

  The antique-style door opened slowly with a long and haunting creek.

  I passed by my parents’ luxury cruiser. Yes, it had self-driving capabilities, games, heated this and that, weather control, etc., but it was expensive, slow, ugly, and bulky. I liked to think of it as a big, fat taco. Based on the wide body design and the tan color scheme, that’s what it looked like to me. It had maybe twenty miles total on the odometer. There were really no reasons for them to go outside, not when everything was either online or delivered from an online store. They bought this monstrosity in case of emergencies. I couldn’t imagine exactly what would constitute an emergency for my parents. Then it hit me. Getting this gaming gear was probably one.

  “Lazy parents, what would they do without me?” I let out a sigh and made my way past their vehicle and on to my only real love—my matte black Sky bike. Last year, I spent a solid month building the thing. It was hard work but well worth it. Most people just buy the stock bikes, but I, for one, took the time to select a custom frame, engine, gears
, fans, armor, and thrust during the online building process. I had to lie a couple of times on the online form to gain better performance parts. Like, I nearly doubled my weight to ensure a better booster and lift package. It was one of a kind, all right.

  On the underbelly of the bike sat a mounted circular disc, which housed all the drone-like lift fans. It also doubled as a stepping stool for getting on the banana-shaped seat. Using it as intended, I bounced into position.

  Sitting on the cushion felt like an extension of my own body. It molded to my every curve. The seat was key to lowering the latency of my reaction times. It was vastly technical, but the long and the short of it was that if I moved, so did the bike.

  “On,” I said, and a show of lights traveled across the sleek design of the body, across the bottom disc and back up again. This was the startup protocol and systems check. If something was wrong, the light would have turned red as it passed over the malfunctioning part. But not today. Everything came up as green as envy. That meant I was good to go.

  Wrapping my hand around the smooth leather handlebar grips, the console screen lit up showing a digital interpretation of a slew of analog gauges and meters. I could customize what appeared on the dash, and I liked seeing the readings—air temperature, wind velocity, odometer, fan speed, altimeter, gyroscope, collision radar, etc.

  After a slight hum, the score of fans on the underbelly of the bike started to lift me off the ground slightly. The hover bike felt light and delicate in this mode, like a snowflake. A couple of digital knob turns later, the turbine in the rear powered on, and the whole garage shook against its flaming exhaust.

  The controls were simple. Up/down was controlled by pulling or pushing the handlebars. Rotating them left or right was used for slow, roundabout turns; leaning left and right for making bank turns, and sweeping was controlled by foot pedals. Combining the last three made for a really great drift or air donuts. How tight you squeezed both hand grips determined how much lift the hover fans gave you. This was where your seat movements came into play. The lift fans were only designed to keep you away from ground objects by floating, a slight hover movement.

  As for really moving forward or backward, that was what the 110,000 RPM dual turbine engines between my legs were for. Under the seat, from the front to the back, they were positioned above each other like two opposing teardrops. The one on the back was made for going forward, and the one on the front was for going backwards and abrupt stops. The accelerator was operated by turning the right handle grip to go faster, and the left handle grip was designated for the brake, or front turbine.

  If you got into trouble, there was a series of wings that could be extended in the back, which could be used for long, gliding drifts over chasms. On a good day, the lift alone could raise you as high as five feet in the air. I was really hoping today was going to be a good day.

  Slowly, the garage door rose, exposing the outside elements. Gusts of wind blew debris and gravel into the opening. A spider web of purple lightning illuminated the dark backdrop. While it was calm and quiet inside the house, things were chaotic and unpredictable outside. It was going to be great. The weather hadn’t been this nice in a long while.

  I pulled my goggles over my eyes and fastened my oxygen mask, which was connected to my satchel. I had even commissioned an artist to etch skeleton teeth on the front of my air mask. I almost felt as cool as I looked. Pulling over the hood on my grounding coat, I was ready.

  With my Sky bike at my beck and call, and the wind on my back, I shot out into the unforgiving hellscape I called home.

  Chapter Two

  Jet Moto

  I was really flying, more so than normal. The wind was blowing with me for a change. It felt as though I was being pushed along by an invisible hand. My Sky bike tore through the air as if it were sliding on ice, smooth and steady. I was unstoppable, free.

  Pinning my right hand down, I gave it full throttle. The turbine engine responded with quite a punch. Giving in to the adrenaline, I crouched down low and pushed all my weight forward. With my body, I made micro adjustments to keep my path as straight as possible, maintaining the bike about three feet off the ground.

  Industry signs and old factory equipment flew by me as I zipped between them like I always do. From all my past attempts, I had the path completely memorized. This place was the closest thing to a race track I’d ever come across. It had wide bungalows, which were easy to spot from a far distance, and due to the nature of the factories, they needed big loaders and lifters to drive around and move heavy merchandise, which made for wide-open spaces. All the loading areas were lit red, meaning they were on lockdown during the manufacturing process. This also meant that I had about ten solid minutes of uninterrupted air space.

  Even though this was the same route as always, this was no normal warmup lap. I was really going to do it this time. The conditions were perfect. The bike’s G.P.S. gave off a “cha-ching” sound after each lap while displaying my time.

  Man, I am really booking it. With a sideways glance, I saw that my speedometer was flashing “MAX,” in red.

  I had known today was going to be special. Sometimes when the planets and the fates are aligned, things just fall into place much easier than you ever thought they would. Today, I achieved something that was said to be impossible.

  The marketing campaign gloated that the Sky bike would always exceed your expectations. “Sky’s the limit,” the ad boasted. But it seemed that I had done it. I had maxed out my speed. I only wished the exact value was present, so I could put a number on whatever this was I was feeling.

  Electricity discharged off in the distance like bolts of lighting, although there wasn’t a cloud in sight. This was a natural effect called surging. It had something to do with the magnetic energy of the Earth fighting against our power grid and consumption load. For whatever reason, it was constant, and beautiful in an angry sort of way.

  After one final lap around the yard, I broke the circuit and made my way out to a less remote area. The turbine purred as I lowered my speed to something more suitable for cruising. Swerving back and forth, I was enjoying the rest of the ride.

  Square, undescriptive houses were stacked up like servers. From a distance, their round windows seemed to blink like LED lights.

  My parents were lucky enough to have a single unit. This meant they had the privilege of not having neighbors above or below them. Just another example of what I was grateful for. Each unit had to comply with their allotted data block, no matter how many people lived in the building. I’d been told that sharing data bandwidth could be a real nuisance.

  Before my run-in with the parents, I had planned on going on a nature hike; if you could call it that, what with there not being much nature left to see. Last night, I got the approval notification granting me access to venture up to one of the remaining waterfalls in our area. The water was said to be toxic and multi-colored, but it was still a sight to see, nonetheless.

  I mean, so I’d heard through the social media group I belonged to called “The Outsiders.” They did a bunch of group events. I knew the risks of meeting anyone from social media. You had to catfish, before being catfished. Not one for fishing, I opted out. Instead, I did these little adventures one week behind everyone else…and alone.

  Outdoor activities were in such low demand that it took months to get pre-approved for any activity. There were a lot of preparations needed in order to issue a hiker’s pass—monitoring satellites had to be aligned, rescue drones had to be charged and ready to go…but most of all, the trail had to be sprayed ahead of time for swarms of deadly insects.

  All of these things were already in motion for my trek, and I wasn’t going to let this errand for my parents ruin it.

  The outside world didn’t have the luxury of a central weather control system, like in the houses. Therefore, it was unpredictable. One minute the burning sun would be scorching you through the fog layer, and the next, hail would pound on you from the side. Thes
e harsh conditions forced everyone to keep to the safe confines of the indoors.

  Society was quite used to convenience and schedules. God forbid a server went down, or an update took longer than anticipated. People everywhere would start a riot…on the forums. Not a literal riot. That would involve leaving the house. When robots delivered everything you needed, there wasn’t really any reason to leave the house—unless you were me, and I was.

  I had already broken one personal record today. Hitting max speed was a benchmark I wouldn’t soon forget. Now it was time for another. Pulling up hard on the handlebars, my bike began to climb. Again, I pinned the accelerator down hard, and the bike responded. This time I was going for sheer vertical height. Should I be testing my luck? There was no better time than now.

  Twenty feet.

  The bike kept climbing, with a ferocious roar. This was not its intended purpose. It was called a Sky bike, but S.K.Y. was the name of the manufacturer—Synthetic, Kinetic, Yeast. Sky might have started out as a revolutionary bread developer, but when your founder is a child-like scenester, your company eventually moves on to fun stuff like bikes, booze, and pants that are made from recommissioned gaming systems. Yes, Sky made those, too.

  For all intents and purposes, it was a hover bike, not a flying machine. Especially since its safety equipment didn’t take into account falls from high distances. Taking to the sky wasn’t part of its function, despite its misleading name. There were no safety nets or parachutes installed. If it stalled out now, that could be it. Not just for the bike, but for me as well.

  Thirty-two feet.

  “I’m almost there.” As I climbed, the speed drastically started to drop far out of the previous range. If I couldn’t keep my speed up, I might fall out of the sky like a slippery package from a delivery bot.

  The bike came with a speed-governing device that stopped you from accelerating too quickly and overheating the system. It didn’t reduce your ability to get the most out of the engine; it only regulated how quickly you could get there. This is why I had needed the wide-open area to reach top speed. If I wanted to do this, to really do this, I had to make some minor, yet possibly lethal, adjustments.