Gamers' Rebellion (5 page)

Designers Burrows and Hayes exchanged meaningful glances.

‘I figured that you would be happier without my interference anyway,’ added Robert.

Zyra watched everything blur, pixelate and reform.

It was the same three people having a similar conversation. As with the previous scene, their location was unclear. The main difference was that Robert was in a wheelchair – not the sophisticated technology-laden one he currently occupied, but something a little more ordinary.

‘You’re stagnant,’ said Designer Hayes.

‘I’m happy,’ countered Robert.

‘Are you?’ asked Designer Burrows. ‘Really? You’re happy enough in the Game, playing as a child. But that’s all you’re doing – playing. You’re not living. What you should be aiming for is a complete transference of your consciousness from the physical environment to the virtual.’

‘We can do it,’ said Designer Hayes. ‘If you stop playing and start working, we could achieve this. Imagine – leaving your crippled, physical self behind completely.’

‘Freedom from the physical world,’ added Designer Burrows.

‘What do I do with this freedom once I have it?’ asked Robert.

Zyra’s eyes widened. ‘That’s what Bobby said. In the Game.’ She looked at the present Robert as his past self blurred and pixelated. ‘You’re Bobby? The Ultimate Gamer? How?’

Robert exhaled loudly. ‘Just watch.’

The pixels reformed into another similar scene. Robert’s wheelchair was now closer to its current form, although not as much of his body was encased in the technology. Designers Hayes and Burrows now wore pale blue jumpsuits under their white lab coats and they looked older. Designer Burrows in particular. Her face had hardened and lined.

‘I don’t understand you,’ said Designer Burrows. ‘We now have the technology to allow you to live in a virtual environment, full-time.’

‘No thanks to you,’ Designer Hayes uttered under his breath, glaring at Robert.

Designer Burrows shot him a stern look and he bit his lip. ‘Yet you continue to play games and cling to your existence in this world.’

‘Look at you,’ Designer Hayes cut in. ‘You can’t even move without assistance. It won’t be long before you’re a complete vegetable.’

‘And what would happen to my body out here, if I were to follow your advice?’ asked Robert.

‘What do you mean?’ There was suspicion in Designer Burrows’ voice.

‘I’m not as stupid as you seem to think I am,’ he answered. ‘I know what’s going on. I know what you’re up to. I don’t participate in your
research
, but I do watch. I know how you keep all those environments from collapsing. I know what happens to all those poor people.’

Designers Burrows and Hayes exchanged worried looks.

‘Don’t be so concerned. I’m not going to try to stop you. In return, you need to leave me the hell alone. I don’t care what you do so long as you don’t interfere with me.’

‘Very well,’ said Designer Hayes, cautiously.

‘Oh, and I believe your cloning experiments have been a success.’ There was a glint of victory in Robert’s eyes. ‘Well, I need a clone to assist me in this world.’

Everything blurred and pixelated again – and Zyra was back in the present, Robbie gently removing her headset.

Zyra rubbed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts. ‘Let me get this straight. Your name’s Robert. You’re also Bobby in the Game. And you’ve got a robot clone named Robbie.’

‘That is correct,’ replied Robert.

‘Arrogant,’ Zyra muttered.

‘Perhaps,’ said Robert. ‘They are both aspects of me. Bobby is me as a young boy. He is my escape from the physical world. As for Robbie – he is my eyes and ears, my leg and hands in this world. He is … special.’

‘Bobby is dead,’ said Zyra. ‘I saw him die.’

‘Oh Zyra.’ Robert sighed. ‘Nothing in the Game is necessarily what it appears to be. Yes, Bobby died and I exited the Game. When I go back, I’ll be Bobby again. I’m always Bobby.’ Robert’s eyes shifted from Zyra and he stared off into nothingness. ‘I programmed my twelve-year-old self into the Game right at the beginning. I scanned my memories and reconstructed him. Youth is such a precious thing. The mind works so differently before the pressures of life and responsibility slowly squeeze the joy and wonder and playfulness from it. The young mind is more adept at making a link to the virtual world. More accepting. More imaginative. A situation that the other Designers have exploited with staggering success and recklessness.’

Zyra snapped her fingers at Robert to get his attention. ‘What’s all that supposed to mean?’

Robbie crossed between the two of them and to a console at the wall of technology.

‘The Administrators have finished questioning the captured rebel,’ he announced. ‘They have failed to get any information other than her name – Mel.’

‘Perhaps you and Zyra should visit Mel,’ suggested Robert.

‘What’s the point?’ asked Zyra.

‘You might get some information about Tark.’

9: People Who Don’t Matter

‘Okays, let me gets this straight.’ Tark was sitting on the end of the table, still dressed in nothing but the ill-fitting lab coat, trying to come to grips with everything that Josie had just told him. ‘Zyra and me gots outta tha Game. But we is clones. She’s a prisoner of the Designers. But ya rescued me.’

‘That pretty much sums it up,’ said Josie.

‘That’s a lot ta takes in.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Josie. ‘I imagine it is. Get used to it. There’s still a lot more for you to take in.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Tark. ‘Like wot yar lot’s all about?’

‘I really think you should at least try to speak like everyone else.’ Tark opened his mouth to protest, but she continued. ‘If we are going to help you get Zyra, we need you to be able to blend in. Surely Zyra is worth the effort?’

‘I’m not stupid, you know,’ said Tark, the gutter speak dropping away. ‘I can fit in if I need to. I’ve spent enough time in Suburbia to be able to speak just like you.’ He paused, a little surprised at how
right
the speech pattern felt. It didn’t matter – no one was going to tell him how he should be talking. ‘But till I needs ta … Why shoulds I?’

‘Suit yourself.’ Josie spun and walked to the centre of the room, stopping to turn back and spread her arms. ‘This is our research laboratory.’

‘Looks a bit like a storeroom,’ Tark said, unimpressed.

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Josie snapped back. ‘We’ve converted this run-down Community Youth Centre as best we can. We’re not a big-bucks corporation like the Design Institute. We’re just a bunch a kids doing what we can to stand up for what’s right.’

‘Bit full of yaself, isn’t ya?’

Josie took a deep breath, clenching her hands, then let it out slowly.

‘We are on the same side,’ she finally said. ‘We share a common enemy. The Designers.’

‘I isn’t on no one’s side ’cepts mine and Zyra’s.’

‘This is so much bigger than just the two of you,’ said Josie. ‘Aside from all the Game entities that have gained sentience, but are stuck in the Game … there are the people in this world that the Designers are kidnapping.’

‘Kidnapping?’

‘Yes,’ said Josie, pleased that she had at last gotten Tark’s attention. ‘The Designers have been taking kids.’

‘How? Who?’ asked Tark.

‘Orphans, street kids, runaways, slum-dwellers – people who won’t be missed, except by other people who don’t matter.’ Josie paced up and down. ‘You see, there are different rules for different types of people in the real world – just like in the Game.’

‘So why does the Designers want ta steals kids?’

‘We’re not sure,’ admitted Josie. ‘All we know is that it has something to do with the Game. And that they are never heard from again. We are trying to find out what’s going on. And we’d like your help.’

‘Eh?’ Tark looked bemused. ‘Wots can I dos?’

‘You can go back into the Game,’ said Josie. ‘You can help us to find out what’s going on.’

Tark’s eyes widened. ‘I’ve only just gotten outs.’

‘I know,’ said Josie. ‘I know it’s a big ask. But before you refuse, please hear me out.’

‘Okays. I is listening.’

‘We have a contact in the Design Institute,’ explained Josie. ‘And he, or she, has been slowly feeding us information and supplies. We now have a way into the Game.’ Josie paused to lick her lips. ‘But we can’t use it.’

‘Ah-ha.’ Tark stared at Josie.

‘There is some sort of security program on the Game,’ continued Josie. ‘It won’t let any of us in.’

‘Wot makes ya think it will lets me in?’

‘You’ve just come out of the Game.’ Josie’s voice rose a notch, the hope and excitement evident. ‘You’re from the Game originally. I’m willing to bet that you’ll get in. I think the security program might recognise you and let you through.’

‘And wots does I do once I is in there?’

‘You don’t have to do anything for the moment,’ said Josie. ‘We just need to know that you can get in … and out again. Piece of cake.’

‘Ahhh.’ Tark pointed at Josie. ‘That’s it, ain’t it. Ya isn’t sure I can gets out again, is ya?’

‘Well,’ admitted Josie, avoiding Tark’s eyes. ‘Theoretically, you should be able to get out again. The nanos we’re going to use to put you in are programmed for a time-limited access of ten minutes. So once your time is up, you’ll exit automatically.’

‘Theoretically,’ added Tark.

Josie met his gaze. ‘You are our only option. We took a great risk getting you out of the Design Institute. We lost one of our own during the raid. You –’

‘Ya reckons I owes ya,’ interjected Tark. ‘Well, I owes ya nuthin’.’

Josie’s face fell, hope draining from it.

‘But I’ll thinks on it. Now, can I has sum food? I is starvin’.’ Tark jumped down from the table. The too-short lab coat rode up and he grabbed at it. Tugging it down, he felt it rip at the back. ‘And can I please has sum proper clothes?’

10: Mel

‘So do you think she might be able to tell us what’s happened to Tark?’

Zyra looked hopefully at Robbie, walking next to her along corridor after identical corridor. The featureless walls and even lighting made it almost impossible for Zyra to make any sense of where they were.

‘I do not know,’ answered Robbie, truthfully. ‘We shall find out shortly.’

They turned a corner and Zyra saw a guard standing against the wall. He was tall and broad, with an impassive face. He wore a black jumpsuit with padding and armour – bullet-proof and able to absorb an energy burst, according to Robbie. He also had accoutrements – a thick black belt around his waist and double bandoleer crossing his chest. There were various devices and pouches attached to the criss-crossed fashion accessory. On his right hand he wore a thick black glove – a bit like a data-glove, but menacing. It was inlaid with silvery threads and reminded Zyra of the glove the Cracker had once used to attack her and Tark.

‘Power-glove,’ explained Robbie. ‘The wearer can throw a concentrated charge of energy – mild enough to stun you, or strong enough to kill you.’

‘Toys!’ whispered Zyra. ‘Could have used something like that back in the Game.’

‘Indeed.’ Robbie brought them to a halt in front of the guard. ‘We have permission to interview the prisoner.’

The guard cocked his head to one side as if listening to a voice no one else could hear.

‘The guards are all cloned from Designer Alpha’s original recruit,’ Robbie explained. ‘He was strong, ruthless and had an unwavering loyalty. The clones also have communications implants.’

The guard stepped aside as a door slid open in the wall. Robbie led the way in, adding, ‘Designer Prime refers to them as
grunts
.’

There was a table with two chairs just inside the door. Beyond that, a girl sat in what looked like a plastic armchair. Everything was white.

Robbie sat down in one of the chairs, and motioned for Zyra to do the same.

The girl’s eyes widened when she saw Zyra, but she didn’t move.

Zyra studied her intently. She seemed unremarkable in every way – medium height, medium build, mousey mid-brown hair, cut short. Her face was plain. Her clothes were ordinary – black pants, black long sleeved top. She wore no jewellery. Her eyes were the only notable thing about her. There was a burning intensity to them, despite the absolute stillness of her body.