S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (42 page)

“Hapkido.”

His eyebrows had knitted and he had to ask her to explain what that was. Someone joked that it was a breed of dog. When she told him, he'd seemed reluctantly impressed.

“Martial arts is a fine example of what I'm talking about. So much of it is like a dance. It's about your brain processing visual, positional, and situational stimuli and then responding with an appropriate action within fractions of a second. When you're practicing—”

“Sparring,” she said. “It's called sparring.”

“When you're sparring, you don't stand there and think to yourself: ‘My opponent is standing three feet away from me and is going to kick me with his left leg, so I need to either block it or jump out of the way, and if I jump then I need to jump over this way, which means I need to prepare to land on this foot and then spin around and punch him with this hand. You don't think any of that, you just do it.”

“It's reflex,” Jessie said, over the giggles of a few students.

“No, it's not. When a doctor taps above your knee and your foot shoots out, that's a reflex. The brain isn't involved in that at all. Here, the commands
must
originate from the brain. You're not aware of it, not consciously attempting to think your way through some set of motions. And that's exactly how we must train your mind to operate your Player, not as a tool or a machine, but as an extension of yourself, because that thing inside that room?” He pointed. “When you're connected, using this new generation gear and the auditory and optic implants, that thing becomes a part of you.”

Jessie's stomach had lurched at the idea. It was—

disturbing

—creepy.

But despite her personal feelings on the subject, despite her personal connection with
the
subject, she couldn't help but be thrilled whenever she managed even the tiniest achievement. And it was the strangest thing to watch, too. She'd think:
Take a step
. And it would just stand there and she'd get frustrated and try harder and, of course, nothing would happen. But if she just relaxed and thought about it walking — not her, but
it
 — her Player would. Or she'd imagine it reaching out, and its arm would lift. She hadn't sent the instructions, not consciously.

Only later did she realize that it would prefer to use its left arm. Rupert had been right-handed. It was she who was left-handed.

Creepy and disturbing. But also fascinating.

It wasn't until around four in the afternoon that she had finally managed to get Rupert —
Player!
 — to cross the room with any fluidity, open the door and retrieve the third shelf object. Which, ironically, or perhaps amusingly (to everyone but her), happened to be a rubber replica of a human brain.

The next several hours had been devoted to building on the catalogue of movements, then repeating them while the instructor gave her separate instructions for her to perform at the same time. Someone suggested they try walking their Player while chewing gum.

“The advantage of the new gear is that you can go about your own business at home or work while playing
The Game
. Gone are the boots and the gloves. Gone are the goggles. You could be making dinner and playing; your spouse wouldn't be the wiser.”

“Driving?”

“We don't recommend that. But you could be out for your daily jog in the park. For a bit more aerobic benefit, to get your heart racing a little faster, you might try connecting and playing.” He turned to Jessie. “Someday you may even be able to play while you're doing your happy-do thing.”

Hapkido, asshole.

“What about while you're having sex?” someone asked.

Rod-the-Bod shrugged. “That's a little weird for me, but who am I to judge?”

Jessie had shuddered in disgust. She couldn't wait for the training to end.

But eight o'clock rolled around and they were still at it. Then nine, and Jessie was beginning to fear she'd miss the shuttle going out that night. And with every minute that passed, she grew more and more certain that someone would interrupt the class and march in with officers to take her into custody.

But finally, around nine-thirty, Rod told them that they'd all done well, and that it was time to progress to the next level: “Remote control. We're sending your Players into the arcade tonight. We'll start fresh again at eight tomorrow morning. That's it. Get a good night's sleep.”

She had been ready to collapse in exhaustion right then, but she couldn't risk missing the bus. She didn't know if there would be another shuttle the next night. Most of all, she could almost feel CR bearing down on her.

Now, as the sun finally managed to clear the treetops to her right and began to bake the morning's dew from the surface of the road, she looked back on everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, and realized that it could've gone much worse at any number of points.

Looking ahead, the temperature might top out somewhere between a hundred and five and a hundred and ten before she reached Jayne's Hill. The road might even become too hot to walk, melting the rubber on the bottoms of her sneakers. She hadn't slept in nearly three days, and she badly needed to rest. And already she was running out of water. But when she turned to check for the zombie that had once been her teacher, to her surprise it was still following her.

It was hard not to be optimistic.

‡ ‡ ‡

Eric stepped up the cement stairs fronting the police station and pushed through the glass doors. He flashed his badge at the desk sergeant, who nodded in recognition. “Captain's in her office. She wants to see you right away.”

Eric frowned. If Harrick was leaving instructions for the desk sergeant, then it couldn't be good.

He hurried through the station feeling as if every eye was on him. Nearly every one was.

Harrick was on her Link. He could see her through the glass wall encasing her office, pacing behind her desk, the Link in one hand up to her ear and her other hand on her hip. She glanced up and waved him in.

“Have a seat.”

The officers called it The Hot Seat, the chair directly to the left of the door. Since joining the department as an NCD officer, then as its lead investigator, Eric had had plenty of opportunity to sit in it over the past four years. He'd been chewed out plenty of times, castigated, emasculated, threatened and undermined. But he wasn't the only one. That was how things operated around here. Harrick was the mother hen, and she ruled the roost with an iron wing.

He was well aware that she respected him and his team less than she did the regular officers under her command. It wasn't apparent in her public interactions, however. Nor had she ever used his family history as a means to degrade him. She took her duties to protect and serve all Greenwich's denizens, living and dead, seriously.

The same could not be said, however, for the officers who served under her. Not a week would go by without some kind of cruelty inflicted upon him, which the officers shrugged off as friendly hazing. Eric had never complained. Not once.

“Okay. Keep me updated,” Harrick said, and disconnected the ping. She stared at the Link for a moment before slipping it into her pocket. “Today it's Buffalo. Full lockdown. Arc's not just keeping mum on this one, they're trying to get in front of it by accusing their Citizen Registration department of faulty installs.”

She sat down, sighing. “It's getting bad out there, Daniels. Arc is going to have an uprising on their hands if they don't do something quick.”

Eric nodded, but didn't speak. He hoped she'd give details, but he also knew she wouldn't. Buffalo wasn't why she'd called him in from the hospital.

As if remembering this detail herself, she looked up at him and asked, “How's your mother?”

“Dialysis this morning. And they're identifying potential donors in the registry, in case her own kidneys don't kick in.” He sighed. “But, to be honest, they're not even sure she'd survive a transplant right now. It's touch and go.”

Harrick nodded. “I'm sorry to hear that. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“The Casey kid,” Eric started to say, but Harrick raised her hand to stop him.

“I know what you're going to say.”

Eric doubted that. If he told the captain his sister's theory, she'd lock him up for sure. Part of it was her faith in Arc's claim that their systems and devices were impossible to hack— although that might be eroding now. But he was also sure some of her unwillingness to go there had to do with happenings behind the scenes. Nobody achieved a position as she had without being bought and paid for by Arc itself. So, as much as Harrick shunned any association of the company in public, as much as she badmouthed them here in her office, Eric had no doubt she was in Arc's pocket on the side. He couldn't make such a wild claim as Jessie's without something incontrovertible to support it.

“I need to talk to you about your sister.”

Eric's head snapped up. “Jessie?” He hadn't told anyone what she was trying to do, had only mentioned his last conversation with her to Kelly. To their utter surprise, it seemed she'd somehow succeeded in getting into Gameland, since the last few times he'd tried to ping her Link, the message he'd gotten back was that it was no longer on the stream. At this very moment, Kelly was sitting at home, ready to execute Jessie's instructions. “What about her?”

He fought the urge to check the time. Noon was still at least a couple hours away.

Captain Harrick exhaled. She scratched her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment, then stood up and came around the desk to sit next to him. “I know the Staties are looking for her. The warrant for her arrest crossed my Link this morning. I need to know why they're looking for her, Eric. I thought Arc had pushed what happened last month under the carpet.”

Eric shook his head. “As far as I know, Arc isn't calling for her arrest. This is all Citizen Registration.”

“On what grounds?”

“There's a problem with her implant, something in the programming. It won't allow the network to activate it, so CR says she's out of compliance and is a risk.”

“In the event of an outbreak?”

Eric nodded.

“Is she?”

“No.”

“Because you don't think there'll be an outbreak? You, of all people, should know—”

Eric stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “No, I'm actually worried that an outbreak is imminent. She's not a risk because—” He shrugged, exhaled. “I can't say, but I do know she's not a transmission risk.”

Harrick leaned back for a moment, thinking. “Did she tamper with it, the implant?”

“No, of course not.”

“But you're not going to tell me anymore, are you?”

Eric regarded her for several seconds. “Why did you call me in?”

“I'm trying to rationalize why I should just pretend I haven't seen the warrant. Given all the other problems cropping up right now, one girl just doesn't seem to be worth my time or attention.” Here she paused, her eyes searching Eric's, silently pleading with him to understand her position. “Unless she's somehow connected to the network disruptions. Then it becomes my highest priority. And yours. So, is she involved?”

“No!” Eric declared. “But she thinks she knows who is— at least partially. On her own initiative, she went to try and stop him herself.”

“Who?”

“The Sandervol boy. Micah.”

Captain Harrick frowned. “The Coalition spy?” She shook her head. “But he was conscripted a week and a half, two weeks ago. How can he possibly be involved?”

“Jessie thinks the conscription was a sham. She believes he faked it.”

He thought Harrick was going to laugh at him for a moment, but she didn't. “Where? Where does she think he is?”

“I don't . . . know.”

“Don't know, or won't say?”

“It doesn't matter,” Eric replied. “We have no jurisdiction.”

“Gameland? You think she went back there?”

He nodded.

Harrick took a deep breath, slapped her knee and stood up. “That explains Arc's request.”

Eric jerked in surprise.

Harrick returned to her side of the desk and picked up her Link. “They've requested a federal fugitive warrant. You understand what this means, don't you?”

He gasped and felt his face blanch. His vision tunneled. “Why? On what grounds?”

“The charge is that she shot and killed one of their employees while in the commission of a crime.”

“I don't believe that! Jessie wouldn't kill an innocent person! And why would they request a federal warrant? Arc won't allow agents inside the arcade.”

“You went in with marines.”

Eric stopped, swallowed. “But Arc never sanctioned that action. If anything, it probably accelerated the rift between them and the government.”

She waved him off. “To be honest, I think the warrant is just a formality, the first step in something we can't see the end of yet.”

“Like what?”

“A legal move, maybe. Plausible deniability. Inculpability. I don't know. For your sister's sake, I hope she's right.”

‡ ‡ ‡

Jessie was practically falling down with exhaustion. She knew she needed to stop and rest, find some potable water, recharge. The longer she went without sleep, the greater the risk of stumbling into a group of IUs. Or, even worse, Players. Or doing something stupid to draw them out of their hiding places. She needed to hole up, yet she also knew that spending too much time in one place was just as dangerous.

She had walked a good four or five miles northwest from the wall, angling toward the center of the arcade, and figured she still had at least seven or eight more to go before reaching Jayne's Hill.