The Game of Lives (24 page)

Michael breathed out in relief and disbelief. An army of Tangents had come to save them. They'd been so close to true death. And Bryson and Gabby were still out there, fighting. He had to go—

Someone put a hand on his shoulder when he tried to get up, gently pushed him back down. Michael turned to see Helga, dressed in armor, kneeling beside him. She leaned against a massive sword of fiery light that she'd driven pointfirst into the ground.

“What's going—” he started to say, but she stopped him.

“Stop talking. We don't have time. I pressed Kaine into killing me so I could Lift and get help. But I wasn't fast enough. Someone's coming for you in your Coffin—Kaine's broken through my firewall. You have to go back,
now
.”

Michael scrambled to his feet, fighting the pain. “What…no! Bryson and Gabby are out there! I have to help!”

Helga grabbed him by the shirt with both hands and pulled him close. “We've got this, Michael. Sometimes you have to let go. Sometimes you have to let others share your burden. You understand me?”

He nodded weakly, but felt helpless.

“I've left a pathway for you.” Helga squeezed his shoulders. “Now go. Save yourself. And have faith in us—we can win, and I know how to destroy the Doctrine. Remember my little trick to get us to the Hive undetected? The build-and-destroy?” She didn't wait for a response. She pulled her sword from the ground and leaped into the air, cutting in half two KillSims that had been diving toward them.
“Go!”
she yelled.

Michael focused on the Portal path provided by Helga, closed his eyes, coded, and Lifted himself to the Wake.

5

The hiss of the Coffin door opening. The wet tug of NerveWires retreating from his skin to their cubbyholes. The glowing blue lights, the hum of the machine, the real world expanding to life above him. The pain was there, in every part of him, but not nearly as bad as it had been in the Sleep.

A face stared down at him. Then there was a flash, a glint of light on steel.

Michael was up in a rush. He battered the arm to the side just as it came at him with the knife, then kicked out with his leg, catching the man in the face. Michael scrambled out of the Coffin, following the man's descent, jumping on top of him, his blood pumping with adrenaline. He punched him, then saw an arm coming again, still brandishing the weapon. Michael brought his elbow up, felt the cold blade, the bright sear of pain. He swung his fist around and knocked the knife out of the man's grip.

Run
, he thought. He was done fighting. All he wanted to do was run.

Michael pushed himself to the side, tripped as the man grabbed his foot, kicked him off, scrambled to his feet, started running. He was inside that massive room, surrounded by the balconies of Coffins. He could see the doors
through which he'd entered. Michael fixed on the exit and ran for it.

Then, in a blur of pain, his face cracked against hard tile. He was on the ground; his attacker had jumped on him from behind. Michael flipped onto his stomach, arching his elbow around as he did, connecting with the man's jaw. He cried out and fell off, clutching his face, but landed a kick to Michael's stomach as he did. Michael curled up, clutching himself, coughing. His entire body still ached from the ordeal inside the Sleep, and now a new wave of nausea broke over him. He crawled to his feet and struggled against a spinning world.

His attacker was on his feet, breathing heavily, and Michael got a good look at him for the first time. He was familiar, but before he could place him, the man charged, rage painting his face dark. Michael planted his feet. He had no time to flee, and the man slammed into him, sending them both flying to the ground again. Michael kneed him in the groin, scrambled out from under him. He stood up, stumbled away, looked back. This had to end.

Michael noticed what he hadn't before: one of the guards who'd died earlier was slumped in a chair, blood covering his face and chest. At his feet, there was a gun. He sprinted for it. He could hear his attacker yelling like a lunatic. Michael slid toward the chair like a ballplayer for the win and grabbed the weapon, twisted around to aim.

The man pulled to a stop, eyes big, hands raised. And in an instant, a transformation came over him. His rage vanished, replaced by fear. His lips trembled and he fell to his knees.

“Don't,” he whimpered, the most pathetic of sounds. “Don't shoot me. I'm…This is my only hope. I'm out of options. I need this body.” He lowered his head.

Michael slowly got to his feet, keeping the gun trained on the man. And then that sense of familiarity solidified, turning into recognition.

“You visited me at the jail,” Michael said, stunned by the revelation. He couldn't believe it hadn't come to him sooner. “You came in there, talking about what's real and what's not, how we can never know. That we could Lift a thousand times—”

“And still be in the Sleep,” the man interrupted. “Yes, yes. How can we ever know? We can't. We can only live, boy. And I want to live, more than anything else in this godforsaken universe. Please don't take that away from me.”

“Who are you?” Michael asked, not so much a question as a demand.

The man still acted timid. “I'm the friend you've always had—something I guess you've never realized. And I'm your sworn enemy.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It's me, Michael. It's Kaine.”

The world shifted at Michael's feet. He had to steady himself. “You think I'm stupid?” he asked. But the threat was empty. He wanted to pretend that he didn't believe him, but he did. Kaine the Tangent had stolen a body and was kneeling before him. He knew it was true.

“Don't go judging me like you always do,” Kaine said. “This man I took wanted to end his life, had even written a
suicide note! I didn't do anything to him he didn't want already.”

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” Michael said quietly, half to himself. He stared at the floor. “I was just…”

“It's how my plan works. Every two weeks, I downloaded the latest version of myself into this man. Just in case things didn't quite work out in the Sleep over the last year or so. It's my own…insurance policy. And by the looks of it, I'm thinking it was the wisest thing I've ever done.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, looking Kaine in the eye.

The man—the Tangent—shrugged, then finally lowered his hands. “I just lost all contact. With myself, my partners, my army. So I can only assume that you've won. I don't know how or where or when, but it's over. I guess that's two weeks of memories I'll never get back. Not that I'd want to. All my people are gone or dead, as far I can tell—you have way more supporters than I thought. The only reason I knew you were here is because I intercepted a message from…myself to…myself.”

Michael just stared at him, completely lost. He did understand, actually, but his mind felt like a big ball of hardened twine, like one length might snap and the whole thing explode in a pile of dust at any second. He kept the gun pointed at his enemy, wanting so badly to pull the trigger.

“Look, I'm nothing anymore,” Kaine said. “Without the Mortality Doctrine, without my resources, without the support of the VNS infrastructure…I even created my own little Hive, tucked away in oblivion, and I don't think I could
find the thing if I had a hundred years to search for it. Everything in the virtual world is lost to me now. I can feel its absence.” And then, right there, at Michael's feet, the most terrifying figure the world had ever known wept like a frightened child.

“Please,” Kaine whimpered. “Just let me live in this world. I'll never access the Sleep. Never again. You have my word. You took away immortality. Let me have mortality. I'm begging you.”

Michael took a step forward, pointing the tip of the gun right at Kaine's forehead. But he couldn't do it. There was just no way he could pull that trigger. Sorrow engulfed him.

“You,” Michael whispered, trembling. “You and…Weber. I hate you. You took everything from me. My parents. My life. Sarah.”

“I'm sorry,” Kaine said. “I swear I did what I thought was—”

“Shut up,” Michael snapped. “Get up and walk out of here. Now. If I ever see your face again, you're dead. You hear me? There won't be a second chance. I swear it on every last person's life that you took.”

Kaine nodded. He was a miserable, pathetic creature. As Michael turned away, he heard him run across the room and through the doors, out into the street.

Michael let him go, hoping that he didn't come to regret it someday.

6

Several minutes later Michael was still standing in the same place, staring at the floor. He didn't have the energy to move, not even to sit down. He wished his mind would turn off and give him peace.

The Coffin he'd used earlier chirped loudly across the room. He'd been sent a Bulletin message. He walked over and flipped on its NetScreen to see a simple message clearly displayed across its glowing blue surface.

A message from Helga.

It's done.

1

Michael stood among friends.

Including Sarah's parents.

“I'm sorry if I blamed you for her death,” Gerard said. He was standing with his arm wrapped tightly around his wife's shoulders. “It was hard at first, seeing you come back safe and sound. Seeing you all over the NewsBops, being praised as a hero. I was selfish, I know. It just—” His voice hitched and tears filled his eyes. “It just hurts so much. I miss my baby girl.”

Michael's heart ached as Sarah's mom and dad embraced him, both of them shaking as they cried. They pulled away and took a step back.

“It's not your fault,” her dad continued. “I know that. You're a hero, and so was Sarah. If she had it all to do over again, I know she'd make the same choice. Every time.”

Michael could only nod, the grief too much. It probably
wasn't possible, but he sure felt like he missed her just as much as Gerard.

“We love you,” Nancy said with a sad smile. “You'll always be like a son to us.” She paused, an uncertain look in her eyes. “Can we keep in touch?”

Michael did his best to smile. “Absolutely. You can visit me or message me….I'd like that.”

Gerard reached out and squeezed his shoulder, gave that manly nod only a dad can give to a boy in love with his daughter.

“Take care, son,” he said. “We'll let you finish your goodbyes.”

They walked over to the side of the room, and Gabby stepped up to greet Michael.

“Hi,” she said, tears streaming down her face. It touched him. They'd grown a lot closer since the madness ended a month earlier, and he had no doubt they'd be friends for a very long time. “I can't believe you're leaving. It always seemed so far away.”

“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “You better come hang out with me sometimes. Feel free to bring the boyfriend around, if you have to.”

She laughed, a short burst that came through her nose. “That's gonna be weird, huh? It doesn't even seem possible that you two haven't met. So weird.”

“Oh, we've met,” Michael said, releasing her from the hug. It had felt so good. “In more ways than one. And hey, I know you. He can't be too much of a dirtbag if he's your special guy.”

“Ha. Yeah.” She paused, looking him straight in the eye. “We'll definitely come visit you. A lot. You two will like each other. And…what you're doing for him…it's…”

“Please,” Michael said, swatting the air with his hand. “Don't even mention it, ever again. It's not even a choice.”

She nodded, fresh tears springing forth. “Okay. Well, we'll come see you really soon. Let us know where, okay?”

“For sure.”

Last but not least was Bryson. They hugged, doing the requisite pounding of the backs to make it macho.

“I love you, man,” Bryson whispered in his ear.

Michael barked out a laugh, but then Bryson squeezed him tighter. “No, I'm serious. I love you. You're the best friend any person could ever ask for. The bravest, the craziest, the funniest, the best. You're my best friend, always have been, always will be. And I'm going to visit your butt every single day.”

He pulled away and turned, went toward the door.

“Bryson!” Michael called.

Bryson just waved without looking, then walked through the door. It'd been abrupt, but Michael understood. It had been the perfect goodbye.

And so that was that.

Tears stinging his eyes, he went over to the open Coffin and lay down. He was fully clothed, figuring he'd spare anyone having to see him naked. The body wouldn't be inside that long anyway.

He closed his eyes and let the NerveBox work its magic.

When those eyes opened up in an hour or so, Jackson
Porter would see the real world once again. And Gabby would be right there waiting for him.

2

The process hurt.

It was like Squeezing through firewalls and having your brain sucked on by a KillSim at the same time. There was darkness, there was blinding light. Quiet mixed with ungodly sounds of metal screeching and nails scratching concrete. And through it all, the pain.

But like so many other things in Michael's strange life, it finally ended.

He blinked his eyes as they focused. The pain faded so there was just an echo of it floating through his bones and joints and head. He hadn't known what to expect. He'd wondered about it, thought about it every night for a month. Would he wake up in a pod at the Hive? Outside the Hive, floating in that darkness like he'd done several times before? At a Portal? In some kind of factory? He had no clue.

Worst of all, he hadn't known with any certainty that he'd wake up at all. So in that sense, everything was hunky-dory. But to his surprise, he came to inside a Coffin not much different from the one in which he'd just left behind the body of Jackson Porter. A guy he'd been close to in ways most people would never experience.

There was a hiss; then the lid of the Coffin swung open and NerveWires receded from his body. Everything seemed
so real. Spectacularly real. And even as his old bedroom materialized in the space opening above him, he understood. Sure enough, there was Helga, smiling down at him, just as Gabby was probably doing that very second to Jackson back in the Wake.

“Welcome home,” Helga said.

3

He sat with Helga in the kitchen, having just stuffed his belly with her famous waffles and eggs and bacon. Michael enjoyed every bite, but he could never think about food the same way again. For the second time in his weird existence, he wasn't a human. Everything about him was programmed. He had no real stomach or organs to digest food.

He was code. Complicated code, but code all the same.

Honestly, he didn't really mind so much. Life had been great before Kaine, Weber, and that stupid Path ruined his sweet bliss. He'd get back to that. Memories of the real world would dull and fade, and
Lifeblood Deep
would again become his true home.

“I'm not sure which version of you I like better,” he said after one last gulp of OJ. “The one who makes this sweet breakfast or the one who goes around killing bad guys.”

Helga rolled her eyes. “I'm one and the same, Mikey boy. One and the same. And don't think life's going to be a peachy road. Don't do your homework, don't behave…well, you may see Helga the Warrior come back.”

Michael pictured her in an old barbarian's getup with that fiery sword and snickered until his chest hurt. Yeah, he felt good, all right. Life was going to be just fine.

“Thanks for doing all this,” he finally said. Taking a cue from Bryson's brave display in the real world, he decided to share his deepest, most sincere feelings with this miraculous woman. “I know you worked hard to program this place—to make it look like our old home. It's amazing.” He paused, choking back a sudden wave of emotion. “Thanks for coming after me and saving me. And for figuring out a way we could keep on living in the Deep.”

Helga walked around the counter and gave him a hug, her eyes moist, then went back to her own seat.

“I have something to tell you,” she said in a quiet voice.

His curiosity was piqued. “You do?”

She nodded, and he felt a sudden dread blossom in his chest.

“No, no,” she quickly countered, “it's not bad. I promise. I wanted to wait until…until I was certain everything worked out and we could both continue existing in the VirtNet. And…here we are.”

After a long, awkward pause, his pulse pounding in anticipation, he said, “Okay. What is it?”

“Do you remember…” She faltered. “Never mind, of course you remember. The day Sarah died.”

Michael could only nod, a roar of blood in his ears.

“That day, I sent you out of the room so I could work with our programmers back in the Sleep to download her
information. Her consciousness. I needed to do it before she took her last breath in that world.”

He couldn't swallow; he couldn't breathe.

“I think,” she continued, “I
know
, that we got it all. We had plenty of experience working with the Mortality Doctrine by that point. The only thing is, we weren't able to capture her on the other side. At the Hive. We weren't able to insert her into a pod.”

Michael stood up, then sat back down again. “What…what does that mean?”

“It means that she's out there.” Helga looked up and around at the ceiling, as if looking for a ghost. “Scattered. Maybe across billions of data points. I don't know. She might be like a bucket of sand tossed in the ocean. But…but at least you know she's out there. Somewhere. That's a little something to hope on, right?”

Michael had his hands on the counter in front of him. He stared at the backs of his knuckles, shell-shocked. There were so many emotions swirling inside him, he couldn't focus on one.

“What about…my parents?” he managed to ask.

Helga gave him the sincerest of understanding smiles. “I miss them, too. So much. I think they're different, I'm sorry to say. It's like…it's like this. Imagine a chalkboard—you know, from the old stories? A chalkboard with names written across its surface. With your parents, I think it's like they've been erased, never to come back. But with Sarah…well, with her, I think it's like her name is still written there. The chalkboard itself has just been lost in a warehouse as big
as a universe. The odds of finding it are small, but she's out there, somewhere.”

Michael nodded sadly.

“Maybe not the greatest analogy,” she said. “But I do think there's at least something to hold on to with Sarah.” She fell silent, letting everything sink in.

“Thanks for telling me all this,” Michael finally whispered, then got up. He needed to be alone. He turned and walked away, but stopped at the door to the hallway and turned back toward his nanny. “I love you, Helga.”

Then he went to his room, the one he grew up in.

4

“Just like old times,” Bryson said, raising his drink. The other three people around the table clinked their glasses with his and took a big swig. They were at Dan the Man Deli, and it was indeed just like the good old days. A big plate of bleu chips had already been half devoured.

“This place is even starting to look like it used to,” Michael said as he grabbed another chip. “Looks like the new VirtNet Commission is doing a pretty good job. I just can't believe they haven't asked me to work for them yet.”

Bryson glared. “Not. Funny.”

“VNC just sounds so stupid.” That came from Gabby, who'd brought along her boyfriend, one Jackson Porter. He'd taken on a completely new Aura to lessen the awkwardness of it all, but it still weirded Michael out. It was like he had an
evil twin or something. “Reminds me of a hideous disease. They should've just called it the Commission.”

“How're things back in the big bad world, anyway?” Michael asked. “I do my best to avoid all NewsBops these days. They give me the runs.”

Gabby groaned, something Sarah definitely would've done back in the day.

Jackson answered; he was getting more and more comfortable with his new friends. “They're not too bad. Most of the special elections are done, markets are rebounding, people are brave enough to Sink into the Sleep again. Another few months and it'll all be back to normal.”

Bryson tapped the table absently, a faraway look in his eyes. “Good thing we stopped them when we did. Seriously. I think if a week or two more had gone by, the world would have been toast. Good on ya, mate.” He raised his glass again, and the sound of glass clinking filled the air. It was a happy sound.

“What about you?” Gabby asked. That kind smile on her face was something Michael had started to get used to, virtual or not. “How're you holding up?”

Michael thought about it for a second, then nodded with confidence. They didn't have to know about the emptiness that still felt like an abscess in his heart.

“Things are really good,” he said. “Obviously I miss my parents. I miss you guys. I miss…Sarah. But it's great to be with Helga and to have started school again in
Lifeblood Deep
. The great thing about that place is no one knows who's real and who's not, which suits me just fine. I'm lovin' it,
actually. I mean, hey, if I can beat back the Decay—and they're saying being sentient does the trick—I'll live a lot longer than you guys.”

“That's the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me,” Bryson replied, the beam of joy on his face exaggerated.

“Who's to say what's real and what's not, anyway?” Gabby asked. “For all we know, the Wake is just an even more complicated program, run by a bunch of aliens. Or God. Or both. Maybe there's an infinite number of levels. Maybe it gets rebooted every million years.”

That was some major food for thought. Everyone sat in silence for a good long minute, pondering the universe.

“Well,” Jackson said, standing up from his chair. “I gotta go. Project due tomorrow.”

“Yeah, me too,” Gabby agreed. She stood as well. “See you guys here on Friday. Same time?”

Bryson pushed his chair back, looking genuinely sad that the party was over for now. “Same time. And I know this is blasphemy, but next go-round, let's get something that isn't bleu chips? Please? For the love of God?”

Gabby laughed an evil laugh as she and Jackson walked away. Michael watched them go, wondering if people would believe their story once a few years went by. It was nuts.

Bryson smacked him on the shoulder, then gave him a rough handshake. “Games are opening back up in two weeks,” he said. His voice was solemn, as if he'd announced a peace treaty. “I say we skip school—sniffle, sniffle—and go twenty-four hours straight. Hit 'em all.” He slapped Michael
on the shoulder again, then turned to go. He flashed two thumbs-up. “What say you?” he shouted.