Gamerunner (9 page)

He hated it, this new voice, this softness. It scared him. He didn’t want Daed to reassure him; he wanted Daed to tell him what a stupid little git he was. He said, ‘Please, Daed —’

But he didn’t know what he was going to say, and he never found out, because Daed’s comms panel lit up and Paz’s voice said, ‘I’m coming in.’

Daed looked at him, then. ‘Go away, Rick.’

‘I . . .’ He wanted to stay. He didn’t want to be on his own.

‘Get out.’

Paz opened the door — no need to wait for Daed to let her in, naturally — and paused in the doorway as if she was posing for a screenshot. She said, ‘Rick. What a surprise. Run away and play.’

‘I can’t,’ Rick said. ‘Someone’s closed my account.’

‘Oh dear,’ she said, and smiled at him. It was the same smile that you saw on the tygers in the Maze, just before they ate you. He thought: Daed must have done that on purpose.

Paz turned her head, dismissing him. She said to Daed, ‘I suppose you already know what I’ve got to say. Don’t you?’

‘I suppose you’d better say it anyway,’ Daed said.

‘Then get rid of your dependant, please. I don’t want to give him nightmares.’

She turned away and stood looking out at the towers of Undone, waiting for him to leave. Rick looked from her to Daed and back again. He never wanted to leave them alone together; normally it was jealousy, but now he felt . . . protective. But Daed caught his eye and jerked his head at the door.

‘OK, I’m going,’ Rick said. ‘Can I take your P&V shake, please?’

Daed frowned, but he nodded.

Paz turned and leant against the glass, her hands spread on either side of her. She watched Rick as he went to Daed’s shelf and picked up the cup of brown sludge. He heard her lick her lips; then she said, ‘I hear they’re very good for you. Of course I’ve never tried one, myself . . .’

‘I
love
them,’ Rick said, before he could stop himself. He went to the door, tapped precisely on the panel and stepped through the moment the gap was wide enough. He heard Daed clear his throat as he walked round the corner, out of sight.

But it wasn’t the shake he wanted: it was the straw.

He dragged it out, sucked the shake off the end, and he was on his stomach and waiting for the door to close before he even had time to grimace at the taste. Then the door slid shut, and he slipped the straw into the gap and upwards. It stuck just below the electrolatch. The door paused, confused, leaving a micro-em of space.

Rick smiled, and checked the comms panel. Nothing.

Safety mechanisms, he thought. All that technology and you can keep a door open with a drinking straw. Honestly.

But the flash of triumph didn’t last. How could it, when he could hear Paz’s voice, faint but clear? She said, ‘We don’t like people who break their promises, Daed.’

‘I don’t recall ever
promising
you —’

‘Oh, but you did. Don’t you remember? The perfect product. A game that would never be obsolete.’

‘It isn’t obsolete!’ The response came too quickly, too fiercely. ‘All right, I promised you that — but it’s still true. It
is
the perfect product. There’s no reason why —’

‘A game no one could win, you said. Always another quest to run, always something
more
. Our unique selling point, I think you said. As well as the RPG elements —
real
, classic gameplay — that would never be completed. Tell the world they can win it, and keep the end just out of reach.’ Rick heard a faint rasp, and realised that it was Paz’s stockings, as she moved. ‘I hope some of this is ringing a bell?’

‘There was a cheat. The avatar who got through the Roots was cheating. You can’t hold me responsible for —’

‘If he cheats and gets away with it, I certainly can.’

A pause. Rick wished he knew what they were doing; but there was only silence. The gun-grey metal in front of his face blurred and came back into focus.

Paz said something else, too low to catch, as if she was standing right next to Daed. Rick imagined her touching him — his face, or his arm — and shivered. There was an answering murmur, and Paz laughed.

‘Let me recap,’ she said, her voice quiet but so precise Rick could have been reading the words. ‘You promised us infinity. You promised us a game which would never be won. You said that no matter how long our customers spent in the Maze, no matter how hard they worked, there would always be something they couldn’t do. You promised us a game without an endgame.’

Daed said, ‘No one could win against the Roots without cheating.’

There was a noise like something cracking. A split second later Daed laughed, or gasped, Rick didn’t know which. Something heavy fell off a table.

‘I
don’t care
if they were cheating,’ Paz said. Rick heard her sigh. ‘Oh, Daed . . . The Roots were your masterpiece, weren’t they? Constructed to show us how good you were. We gained hundreds of new accounts, because the best players couldn’t resist, and the Roots couldn’t be beaten. Perfect. But now — I’m sorry, Daed, did I hurt you? —
now
we can see that your masterpiece is flawed. Or, put simply . . .’ She paused. ‘Would you mind? My shoes were rather expensive, and Housekeeping have such problems with blood . . . I do apologise, I forgot I was wearing a ring. No, as I was saying, Daed, the problem now is that your work has turned out to be worthless.’

‘Hardly
worthless
.’
Daed’s voice was indistinct, as if there was something in his mouth.

‘Well . . . certainly not adequate. We’ll have to consider very carefully whether to renew your contract.’

Silence. Rick closed his eyes. He thought: This is only a new bit of the Maze. If I say
log out
, I can stop it all. Please . . .

Daed said, ‘There is no way you won’t renew my contract, and you know it.’

Rick tensed, waiting. Then, unexpectedly, he heard them both laughing: not like friends, but like opponents, taking pleasure in the game.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Paz said. ‘But on the other hand you have nowhere else to go. So this is the deal. I’m putting you on probation.’

‘Gods,’ Daed said. ‘What kind of bull—’

‘You’re lucky, in a way. I’ve just had news of the release date for the new gametank. The iTank.’ For a moment he can hear her smile. ‘Good title, don’t you think? So classic, so seductively simple, so —
sleek
. . . We would naturally release a new version of the Maze at the same time, for the new platform. So you have a month to come up with a new expansion.’

‘A month.’

‘Oh, I’m being kind to you, Daed. A new
expansion
, I said. So twenty-first century, don’t you think? So
flatgame
? But I’ve learnt my lesson, you see. You’re human. I don’t expect anything spectacular. Just enough to keep the best players at bay for a year or so . . .’

‘You’re not asking for infinity, you mean?’

‘Naturally not. It wouldn’t be fair. I see that now. You’re only human; just a person, like any other Creative . . .’ A tap, like a polished fingernail on a smooth surface. ‘But . . . the thing about people, Daed, is that they’re . . . dispensable. I like people, as long as they’re useful. It’s just a pity that sometimes . . . they stop being useful. And then — well, Crater is a business. Were you — for example — to stop being useful, I couldn’t guarantee your contract.’

No answer. Rick heard a tiny rustle and a click and didn’t know what it was until he smelt the smoke.

Paz said, ‘Incidentally, cigarettes kill you, you know.’

‘Yes,’ Daed said, and it was because there were only two people in the room that Rick knew it was his voice. ‘Yes. Funny you should mention that. As it happens, I do know.’

‘I hope I’ve made myself clear.’

‘So . . . I understand.’ Daed coughed, for too long, and Paz made a sudden sound of disgust. Finally he cleared his throat. ‘You’ll pay me for as long as I keep ahead of the gamerunners. But after that —’

‘After that I shall stop paying you.’

‘OK . . .’ Daed said, and his voice still had rough edges, as if the cough was just biding its time. ‘Suppose I call your bluff? There are new games being commissioned all the time, you know. Crater may be the biggest company now, but . . . You need me as much as I need you.’

Paz laughed. ‘You want to leave? Feel free. The quickest way is by the window.’

Daed didn’t answer. Rick imagined them there, looking at each other in silence. Even from here he could hear the rain splashing against the glass; he thought he could hear the hiss as it corroded.

‘Splendid,’ Paz said, at last. ‘I’m so glad we’ve got that sorted out. Creative meeting tomorrow, zero-six-hundred hours, followed by Marketing and a working lunch. I’ve told Housekeeping to give you caffeine, amphetamines, whatever you need.’

‘Morphine.’

‘If you’re good.’

‘And Rick —’

Rick moved, instinctively, and grimaced. But it was OK, he hadn’t made any noise.

‘Yes?’ Paz said. ‘He’s looking rather battered, I must say. Be careful, you don’t want Wellbeing to get involved. That could be complicated for both of you.’

‘I want decent food privileges for him. And his account reopened.’

‘How touching,’ Paz said. There was a pause. ‘All right. For as long as your work is satisfactory.’

‘Thank you.’ There was a clean, bell-like note, as Daed reactivated his flatscreen. ‘Now I’d like to work, if you’d excuse me.’

‘Certainly.’ Paz’s footsteps moved towards the door, and Rick got ready to run. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘One more thing . . . Could you forward me the account details of the avatar who finished the Roots? The surves could do it, of course, but this sort of thing can be awkward if it falls into the wrong hands.’

‘She’s — yes,’ Daed said. ‘No problem. I doubt it was actually her, though. Her card details —’

‘Oh, please, Daed. Who would steal an avatar to run the Roots? I’ll get someone to pick her up, make sure the word doesn’t get out. And to get the name of her Cheat, as well.’

Pick her up
. . . Rick looked at the grey door in front of his face, and for a second he couldn’t remember what other colours looked like.

‘I —’ Daed coughed again; but this time it didn’t sound quite real. ‘Paz . . . I don’t think it’s worth it. It’s perfectly possible that her account was hacked — if she’s not the one who actually ran the Roots —’

‘Since when did you make policy decisions? If it wasn’t her, too bad. These things happen.’ A fractional silence. ‘As I said . . . people are dispensable.’

There was a noise like a footstep, and Daed’s chair skidding on the floor. He said, ‘Paz . . . look, I think that’s a step too far, when there’s no guarantee that it was her.’

A silence. Rick strained his ears, but — right now, the moment when he most wanted to know what they were doing — there was nothing.

Paz said, ‘Hmmm,’ and from the tone of her voice Rick knew she was smiling. ‘Daed, there are a few things I’d like you to understand. Sit down.’

A footstep, and a tiny creak.

‘Good. Listen to me. I’m not exactly sure what happened in the Roots, the day before yesterday. The surves tell me that there was something . . . not quite right. Something . . . unusual. Now, I’m sure you will agree that it’s out of the question for us to let word of this get out. Imagine the chatrooms, for example. Whoever it was running the Maze, they must never have the opportunity to discuss their victory. You’re with me so far. Yes?’

No answer; but from the way Paz went on, Rick thought Daed must have nodded.

‘I’m glad you’re being reasonable. Incidentally, I believe it’s perfectly possible to trace the specific tank in which a particular player was running. So, if we did have any reason to suppose that there was anything . . . irregular . . . in what happened . . . well, it would be easy to discover the identities of the people involved, and . . . take appropriate action. Do I make myself clear?’

Another silence; Rick supposed there must have been another nod.

‘As I am personally convinced that there is no reason to look further into the affair, I’m going to authorise Customer Services to pick her up and neutralise the situation.’ Her voice was as smooth as her stockings. ‘But if you have anything you want to tell me — any details, I mean, which might be useful — then now is the time.’

Rick closed his eyes. For an instant he saw Athene looking back at him. He thought: She’s not real. That face isn’t real. She probably doesn’t look anything like that. I don’t even
know
her.

Please, Daed . . .

Daed said, ‘On second thoughts, Paz, I dare say it’s unlikely that anyone hacked her account.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ Her heels clacked on the floor; there was a small, soft sound, that Rick couldn’t place. Paz said, ‘You’re a sensible man, Daed,’ and laughed. ‘Or . . . whatever you are.’

Rick thought: She kissed him.

Suddenly he felt so sick he could die of it. He didn’t even care how much noise he was making as he struggled to his feet. He had to get back to his room before he threw up, that was all. He stumbled away, concentrating on staying upright. He kicked something, heard the plastic cup hit the wall and felt a splash of something damp and thick on his face. Behind him, Paz said something else, laughed. He could smell the P&V shake, and Daed’s cigarette smoke. He swallowed and tried to breathe. The corridor turned a right-angle and he hit the wall and rebounded, kept running. He couldn’t hear their voices any more.