The Game of Lives (12 page)

Walter fidgeted a little when she mentioned what they'd sworn, and Michael knew what he was thinking. They'd also sworn not to bring the so-called true death to anyone, but they'd done just that. Back in the woods, in front of the barracks.

“I need everyone together on this,” Helga said when Michael didn't respond.

He didn't know what to say. But following her seemed like the only viable way the world could ever get back to normal.

“Michael?” she asked.

“Okay,” he said. “I wasn't even going to bring it up until you asked. But I'm in. Tell me the plan, how I can help. Let's just get it done.”

“That's more like it,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Now here's what we're going to do.”

6

A good part of the Alliance plan went off without a hitch, swallowing Michael into a surreal scenario that felt like a dream. He'd worried about language barriers, but that wasn't an issue—they were only observers, from a small country, virtual visitors. Practically invisible.

They took a cab to the Latvian embassy, where Guntis
himself greeted them at security and escorted them inside. He was a tall, brusque man with a very heavy accent. Michael couldn't tell if that meant the Tangent inside had been Latvian himself or the poor guy who'd been Doctrined into him could only use what he had to work with physically. It didn't matter. Two hours later, he, Bryson, Helga, and Walter were all inside luxurious state-sponsored Coffins, along with Guntis, their encrypted Auras transported to the World Summit itself. No one seemed to suspect who they were. No one even acted as if they existed, virtually or not.

Soon holoprojections were entering the famed UE headquarters. It was a vast cavern—a room so enormous that Michael was baffled by what sort of architectural engineering kept it from collapsing in on itself. It was fancy, also. Enormous decorative pillars flanked the entrance and there was dark mahogany everywhere you looked. Leather chairs, maroon velvet, lush carpet—and the smell. The scent of wood polish and perfume hung in the air. The virtual experience was created to be an exact replica of the actual, physical UE headquarters. Michael wasn't disappointed.

As he got his bearings, Michael admired the simplicity of the layout. Every official member country of the UE had its own antechamber off the central auditorium. Within the Sleep, each country had a Portal directly outside these antechambers. This was a plush room filled with leather couches. It was fully staffed and stocked with food and beverages. Glass doors led from this room onto a balcony that overlooked the central space below. Michael took it all in as they arrived with Guntis, who immediately introduced them to
the prime minister and her chief of staff—the man taken by the Tangent Levi.

“Levi had her ear all week,” Guntis was telling Helga in his thick accent. Michael, Bryson, and Walter hovered around Guntis and Helga as they spoke. They had inched into a corner of the big room, and Michael was trying his best to adjust to the surreal experience. “She might seem a little intimidating, but she's not the type to put power before reason. If she thinks it will help her cause or her country, she'll listen to anyone. And she listened.”

“So how's this going to happen?” Helga asked.

Guntis gestured toward the doors that led out to the chamber proper. “The prime minister is an executive member of the UE, so she has a good amount of time to speak. Levi convinced her to make Kaine and the Tangent invasion her highest priority. She's going to make a pitch for money and resources, hopefully get you whatever you need to begin the pushback.”

As Guntis spoke, the people mingling around them had begun to move toward the seats. Guntis gestured to them to follow, and Michael and the group joined the mass of people moving toward the doors. From what Michael could tell, it looked like attendance was about half virtual and half physical—at least for those filling the chairs in the balcony. Michael walked in a daze. He knew that to those actually in attendance at the summit, he appeared as a shimmery projection—people probably even thought he was unimportant because he'd only been invited virtually.

“What did we get ourselves into?” Bryson whispered to
him. Before Michael could answer, Helga ushered them to a few empty seats in the back row of the section reserved for virtual visitors. They sat as close to the aisle as they could.

“Something's wrong,” Michael said. Maybe he'd just grown accustomed to things never working out the way they were supposed to. But he couldn't shake the nervous feeling in his chest. He searched the room for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, but he realized that he wouldn't know if something wasn't as it should be.

“What's the deal?” Bryson whispered to him.

Michael slumped in his seat.

“Something's wrong,” he repeated.

1

Michael didn't know what it was exactly that set off his alarm. It might've been the heightened paranoia of crossing paths with so many Tangents—or people he suspected were Tangents. But something strange hung in the air. So when the world within that cavern descended into madness, Michael wasn't surprised.

Only scared.

2

The chamber was circular—rounded tiers and countless balconies surrounding a large dais with a rotating stage, a dark wood podium resting in its middle like an old tombstone. Security was heavy throughout the auditorium. Michael had noticed the many armed guards immediately. They were
everywhere. A ring of the stern men and women stood just a few feet back from the wide stage. At first, it had set his mind at ease—at least those attending were safe from outside attack at the summit. An inside job was another story.

Just a few minutes after he and Bryson had taken their seats, an elderly gentleman rose to the stage. He walked to the podium slowly and stopped, gripping its sides firmly. His image was projected high above him as an enormous hologram so that he could be seen easily even by those in the antechamber farthest from the stage.

He cleared his throat into the microphone and it was like thunder cracking from the giant speakers above them.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man began, his voice surprisingly strong, “it is my pleasure, and sorrow, to welcome you to this hallowed assembly today. As speaker for the Union of Earth these many years, I've never seen such a dark time come upon us. It is with a heavy heart, yet with unshaken certainty of hope, that I open these proceedings. Thank you for being here.”

He paused, and Michael thought it was a natural place for applause, a general acknowledgment of his words. But the thousands of people in the chamber remained silent. It felt as if the air had frozen solid.

The man continued. “We have promised that each country, territory, and union represented here today will have their moment. Not only do we expect reports of the troubles seen in your lands—troubles caused by these so-called Tangent invaders—but we also hope to hear your proposed solutions. I am determined that we stay here together until we've paved a path of solutions.”

The old man reached somewhere below the podium and came back with a glass of water in his hand, from which he took a long, shaky swallow. Michael cringed at the sound of it booming from the speakers. His sense that something was wrong only increased, and he couldn't keep still in his seat, scanning the audience for any sign of mischief. His head ached from the stress and unease.

Another thunderous throat-clearing brought his attention back to the speaker of the UE.

“The order of presentation was chosen at random this very morning,” the man said. “We sincerely ask that no deviation from this order take place. We also ask that brevity be the rule at hand, and that we save deliberations until we've heard all those who wish to speak their mind.” He paused, looking around the room.

“Before we officially begin, however, I want to announce a very special guest. Sitting before me, on the ground level, is a representative from VirtNet Security. We are told the VNS has a potential solution to this dire problem of Tangents and the so-called Mortality Doctrine program. But they've requested that their own presentation wait until all others have been heard, so that their information can be understood in the full context of what's happening globally. We've been assured that there's a very good reason to keep hope in our hearts.

“Please,” he said, holding an arm out to his side, “as they've had deep troubles of their own and are not a usual part of our quorum, please give Agent Diane Weber from the VNS a welcoming round of applause.”

The chamber erupted with the sound of clapping as
Weber's face replaced the speaker's in the floating hologram, high in the air, near the ceiling. She smiled warmly and gave a slight dip of her head.

Michael looked at the haunting visage of Agent Weber and thought,
Of course
.

Of course
.

3

The ring of guards positioned around the stage faced outward, watching the audience, their weapons holstered but visible to all. There had to be at least fifty of them, all standing at attention, their eyes scanning the crowds. The applause was just starting to quiet, and the speaker leaned forward to continue the program, when Michael caught movement in that wide ring of armed guards.

Others saw it, too, because a collective gasp filled the room right before the first shot rang out.

It was from a guard standing to the right of the speaker. He dropped his weapon and immediately turned and ran up the stairs, onto the stage proper. As he ascended the steps, he pulled out a second gun, long and sleek. The room went dead silent, and then the guard pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the chamber, amplified by the acoustics of the structure. Michael was on his feet in time to see the speaker fly back from the podium. He landed on his side, and it was clear to Michael that the man wouldn't be getting up. Whatever ammunition that guard had used was far deadlier than any from a standard weapon.

There was one last beat of shocked silence; then the chamber erupted. Chaos swept through the hall as most people struggled to leave their seats, pushing urgently toward the exits. Michael and Bryson could only stand and stare as things got worse.

The guard who'd shot the speaker turned away from the center of the stage and faced the rows of chairs closest to the dais. Once again he raised his weapon and started firing into the crowd. The noise grew tenfold. Panic spread throughout the chamber, and people were no longer merely pushing, but clawing and fighting, climbing over each other to escape.

Still Michael couldn't move. He watched, frozen in disbelief.

The rogue guard got off three shots before one of his partners took him down. But before any calm could be restored, a female guard fired at the man standing beside her. Then other guards jumped into the action, one shooting at the woman who'd just killed her neighbor, others firing into the audience. The entire display was madness, and try as he might, Michael couldn't figure out who was on whose side.

It seemed like some surreal, impossible nightmare. There was so much blood, and shots continued to sound. More guards went down; others were targeting the patrons they had signed on to protect. More people died.

Oddly, Michael felt a certain calmness, as if he'd grown used to the world being insane. He turned toward Bryson, who seemed as paralyzed as Michael.

“What's happening to us, man?” Bryson stared straight ahead as he spoke. “When will it ever stop?”

“It'll never stop!” Michael shouted. “Not until we stop
letting people manipulate us. We need to use our own Coffins to get back into the Sleep and figure out how to fix this ourselves.” He was seething with anger now. “Let's get to the Portal and Lift out of here before someone stops us.” It was a heartless thing to say, but rage filled him. Whoever it was behind this latest attack had to be stopped, and Michael wasn't waiting for other people to get the job done.

He grabbed Bryson by the arm and pushed him toward the aisle—the rest of the people sitting by them had already cleared out into the antechambers. Helga was waiting at the entrance, yelling at Michael to hurry. He loved her, and he knew she was doing everything she could, but the sight of her right then made him mad. What a waste it had all been.

He took another look at the stage, where the chaos continued. Bodies littered the ground, and shots were still being fired in every direction.

Michael and Bryson had chanced fate enough—they needed to leave. Michael gave his friend another push and they ran for the aisle, met up with Helga. She didn't waste time on words, ushering him toward the door, refusing to leave until Michael went before her. They were just a few feet from the exit when a voice boomed through the enormous room, from all directions at once.

“Sit down!”

It was a man's voice, amplified by the speakers.

“Get back in your seats,” the man yelled again, “or we'll blow the entire building up!”

Michael turned away from the door and looked back toward the center of the chamber. Another enormous hologram
floated where the speaker had previously been. It was a guard, his hair disheveled, sweat streaming down his face. He held his weapon in both hands before him, right above the top of the podium.

“Last warning,” he said, this time in a softer voice. Most people in the room had stopped to listen. Only a few had actually made it out. “You will sit, you will listen, and you will watch as we change the world.”

He paused, and Michael knew what he was going to say before the words came out of his mouth.

“My name is Kaine.”

4

The truth struck Michael at that moment. His life was forever connected to two people: Agent Weber and the Tangent known as Kaine. He just had to accept it.

The guard who'd identified himself as Kaine waited as the remaining audience members filed back into the main chamber. Maybe it was something in his eyes, but most patrons in the chamber believed his threat that he would bring down the entire building.

“Wise,” Kaine said into the microphone. “You're all very wise to do as I say.” The Tangent's face hovered above the dais, one hundred times its actual size. Kaine always seemed to find a way to establish his presence in a grand, theatrical style.

Michael and Bryson had found their same seats, and
Helga sat next to them. The rest of the crowd had done the same, except for a few stragglers who staggered around the room as if they'd lost their minds to fear.

Kaine gave them only minutes before he started talking again. “It's good to see that humans are still reasonable when called upon to be so. Thank you for taking my suggestion. It would have been a shame to destroy such a lovely building. You will find that I'm not entirely unreasonable, either—once you see things my way. You will probably even agree with me. The world, my friends—both virtual and real—is about to become a much better place. One day you'll tell your grandkids that you were here to witness the beginning.”

Michael scowled. He felt like he knew Kaine, not only from their interactions, but from what they shared—that they were both just lines of code when it all came down to it. But something was off. This just didn't seem like the Kaine he knew.

“Now,” the man said. “As of this moment, I am the leader of this world. President, chancellor, prime minister, all wrapped into one. My fellow Tangents will be assigned various locations in the many countries and territories around the globe. You will submit or you will be replaced by Tangents who are more than willing to do so. The Mortality Doctrine is a wonderful thing, my new friends.”

Michael wanted to stand up and shout. Something was definitely off. After his last two encounters with Kaine within the Sleep, he knew he was right. This was absolutely, positively not Kaine.

The impostor kept talking, but Michael tuned him out, leaning over to Bryson. “That's not him, dude. That's not him.”

Bryson looked at him. “He does seem a little over-the-top. What's going on?”

“I don't know.”

“Let's just hear him out,” Bryson said. “Learn something.”

“…that so many people had to die,” the guard was saying, his larger-than-life hologram addressing the crowd like a god. “We needed to show a display of power, make sure you know that we can do what we need to do and literally be whoever we need to be. Think about this—if we can so easily take over one of the most secure meetings in the world, imagine what else we can do. You need to abandon any idea of rebellion you may already be hatching.”

Michael didn't know how much longer he could take this display.

And then, once again, the world changed.

5

The guard claiming to be Kaine seemed to like talking.

“Our perception of the world, of intelligence, of mortality, of life…with each passing year, it seemingly evolves at double the rate of the previous year. Our understanding of death has transcended even the most optimistic religion, when we can plainly see that the termination of our physical bodies does not have to mean the end. Although you may
despise me now, that will change. In time, as we rule and show you the way…”

Kaine stopped, his words fading out as if he'd suddenly forgotten a memorized speech. A blankness washed over his face, and the silence in the chamber stretched out. Michael watched, wondering what was going on, and a thread of drool dripped from the guard's mouth. On the huge hologram, it appeared as a long line of silver-blue that flashed, then disappeared beneath the display.

“What the…,” Bryson murmured in awe.

Kaine, the guard, whoever he was—moved his mouth to speak again, but no sound came out. Another stream of drool dripped from his lips. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell backward, disappearing from the hologram.

Michael jumped to his feet just in time to see the man down on the dais crash to the floor, the thump of his body echoing through the chamber. A round of gasps circulated and another guard leaped onto the stage and ran for his fallen companion. Before the man made it halfway across the stage, however, he stumbled and fell, crashing face-first to the ground. He lay there, sprawled in a painful-looking tangle, unmoving.

Michael watched all this, bewildered.

None of the other guards moved. They stood looking at each other. It was impossible to know who'd been taken by Tangents and who hadn't.

The chamber had grown incredibly silent.

Then Michael heard a sound. A familiar sound.

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap
. A steady rhythm. Coming from
somewhere below, from a place outside the stage, hidden in darkness.
Tap tap tap
. Heeled shoes, footsteps tapping along like a musical instrument.