Authors: Terry Schott
CHAPTER SIX
Trew closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. Taking a deep breath, he considered the information the top minds in the Game had just delivered.
All twelve Games Masters sat around a table. Many looked embarrassed and uncomfortable with the news their leader, Foundation, had just shared.
Foundation looked most uncomfortable of all. He was middle-aged, with thinning black hair and thick glasses resting on a tiny nose. His skin was splotchy and Trew guessed it’d been years since he’d eaten properly or exercised. Physical conditioning aside, he was extremely intelligent. Trew had studied the careers of all the Games Masters; Foundation was brilliant when it came to computers and the mechanics of the Game. After decades of working in the business, only the most skilled individuals could hope for a chance to become a Games Master, and the true stresses began after the title was attained. The average career of a Games Master was less than two years. The man who currently held the title of Foundation had been part of the Twelve for over fifteen years, and leader of that prestigious group for nine of those.
“I wish we could be of more help, sir,” Foundation said to Trew.
Trew sat and stared at the desk, processing what he’d just learned. Most of the details were new, but he couldn’t see any information that might help solve this crisis.
“I need results,” Trew said.
“Sir, we are limited with what can be attempted,” Foundation explained. “The Game tolerates minimal tampering or interference.”
“I understand,” Trew raised his hand, “but I’m not asking you to interfere with the Game directly. Instead, I want you to focus on the feeds.”
“The feeds?” another Games Master asked.
“Yes,” Trew said. “The Game is still functioning?”
“Everything indicates that it is,” Foundation said. “Hundreds of thousands of players are waking up after being ejected and report that the Game continues to function.”
“Exactly,” Trew nodded. “So assume the Game is fine and it’s simply a signal transmission issue.”
“Worldwide?”
“Yes.” Trew knew he was talking to the wrong experts. This was a simple problem when viewed from the correct perspective. He shook his head and decided to deliver the challenge anyway. “The Game works; Tygon works. The bridge between the two has been blocked.”
“How?” one of the Games Masters asked.
“That is the question,” Trew said. “Everyone involved must be asking two questions; how has the bridge been blocked, and how do we unblock it?”
The group looked at each other and nodded.
“Contact me if you come up with anything.” Trew stood and walked toward the door.
Cooper was waiting outside. He joined Trew and the two men entered the elevator.
“Anything promising?” Cooper asked.
“No, but I think I’ve set them on the right path.”
“Where to next?”
“The one Games Master who might have ideas that we can use.” Trew pressed an elevator button.
===
“Hey, Trew, how’s Brandon doing?”
Trew and Hack hugged briefly, then moved to the living area of his underground apartment. The thirteenth ‘secret’ Games Master turned a large monitor around to face them, grabbed a wireless keyboard and flopped down into a chair beside his visitors.
“He’s still on life support, but the doctors are saying that it doesn’t look good,” Trew said. Cooper made a sour face beside him, but said nothing.
“Brain function?” Hack asked.
“They can’t detect any.”
Hack shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “Might be time to cut him loose, Trew,” he said.
“What if this blackout is tied to his body continuing to function?” Trew asked.
Both Cooper and Hack looked at Trew in surprise.
“Damn,” Cooper said.
“You think that might be possible?” Hack asked.
“He dropped the same time the screens went blank,” Trew said grimly.
“So what happens if he stops breathing?” Hack asked.
“Maybe the feeds come back up,” Cooper said.
“Or maybe the Game stops functioning,” Trew countered, “and over a billion kids die on their tables.”
“Well, that could be a problem,” Hack said.
The men sat thinking about the implications of both unplugging Brandon’s body and leaving it connected.
“Tell me you have a way to see what’s happening in there,” Trew said.
Hack shook his head in frustration. “I got nothing, so far,” he admitted.
“What factors are you looking at?”
“The Game functions, so there must be a block between us and it.”
“Thank you,” Trew exhaled. He was glad at least one Games Master was on the right track. “So what’s the most effective way to bridge that gap?”
“I have to determine which side it comes from. So far everything points to the block being put up from inside the Game,” Hack admitted.
“Who would be able to do something like that?” Trew asked.
“They would have to know they were in a Game,” Cooper said. “Which narrows it down to a few thousand; maybe only hundreds.”
“Infernals,” Trew guessed.
“Or Eternals,” Cooper shrugged. “They do things that they believe are good, but that doesn’t always mean it’s what’s good for us here.”
“I don’t know much about Timeless,” Trew admitted.
Cooper chuckled and nodded his head. “Feel free to ask me anything you like. Let’s get out of here first, though,” he glanced at Hack. “No offence, but there are things you can’t know.”
Hack shrugged with indifference and looked at his computer screen. “No problem. I’ll keep working on this end to look for our culprit. If you think of anything else, you know how to contact me.”
The two men stood up and left the apartment.
“You know a lot about the Timeless?” Trew asked as they waited for the elevator.
Cooper snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“You’ve researched them?”
“I’ve done more than research the Timeless,” Cooper said as the elevator door opened. “I created them.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“This looks like my part of town,” Cooper said as he scanned the crowd for signs of threat. “Not exactly the kind of place I’d expect to find one of the world’s premier artists.”
Trew pulled up his collar to protect himself from both the cold and the possibility of being recognized. “Not many people know about this artist,” he said. A young man nearby squinted at Trew, but after a moment he looked elsewhere and moved on. Watching him depart, Trew continued to walk towards his destination. “This artist is renowned on a different world. Only a few people know that she was recently ejected from the Game.”
The two men crossed the street and stopped in front of a rundown, abandoned building. It was once a storefront, but the windows were boarded up and covered with layers of thick dirt. Trew approached the door and tried the handle; it was locked. He was about to knock when a voice spoke up from a few feet away.
“This way, friends.”
Trew looked to his left and saw the speaker. A young boy of about fifteen years old, he possessed the calm presence of a player. Cooper lazily looked him up and down, then nodded at Trew, and they followed him around the corner to a side door.
They entered a dimly lit hallway with low ceilings and damp stone walls. The hallway ended in a well-lit room where six kids of various ages were standing around. In the middle of the room was a chair with a boy sitting in it. The distinctive hum of a tattoo gun could be heard as the artist bent over the young boy’s arm, occasionally stopping to wipe away excess ink and dip the needle into fresh colour.
Without looking up from her work, the girl spoke in the direction of the newcomers. “Hey, Trew, good to finally meet you.”
“Hi, Janicka,” Trew said. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she said. “Come on over and take a look.”
Trew walked over to inspect her handiwork. On the young man’s shoulder was the image of two eyes, both greenish brown. One eye had gold flecks suspended in the cornea, while the other had crimson red ones. The artwork was incredible; he would have sworn it was a photograph of the eyes of an actual Timeless.
“Perfectly done,” Trew said.
“Thanks,” Janicka said, smiling slightly as she turned away to reload her needle.
“How did you get out of the Game Centre so quickly?” Trew asked. “They’re detaining everyone who gets ejected from the Game for debriefing.”
Janicka shrugged. “Perhaps they overlooked me in the confusion. There are quite a few players leaving the Game at the moment; maybe they simply can’t detain them all.”
Trew nodded. In the 37 hours since contact had been lost, an incredibly large number of players had exited the Game. Since the death of the player’s avatar was the only way to exit, there was a massive event occurring in the Game that viewers were hungry to know about. For Game fans all over Tygon, this blackout was like being a drug addict with no fix in sight. Trew was one of the few who knew the true extent of what was occurring, as much as they could piece together so far, at least. It was grim in there.
“Okay, this is all finished,” she said. “Tanner will dress it for you and give you instructions on how to take care of it.”
Janicka walked to the nearby table and poured three glasses of tea from a pot. She sat in one of the chairs, indicating that Cooper and Trew should join her.
“You were with her?” Trew asked.
“Mmhmm,” Janicka nodded.
“And?”
“And she’s doing well, all things considered.”
“I need details, Janicka.” Trew said.
“I’ll give you two hours’ worth of details.”
“Why two hours?” Trew asked.
Janicka smiled. “That’s how long it will take me to ink your new tattoo.” She reached behind her and grabbed a folder that contained loose sheets of artwork. Flipping through them quickly, she took one out and pushed it across the table.
Trew looked at it and nodded appreciatively. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
“That’s the one she picked for you,” Janicka said. “For all of us, actually.” Janicka pulled up the sleeve of her shirt slightly to reveal the same artwork displayed on the front of her right shoulder. Trew looked around and saw that each of the kids in the room were revealing the identical tattoo on various parts of their bodies.
“What’s the significance?” Trew asked.
“It designates that we’re part of the movement,” Janicka smiled. “You’re not a Gamer if you don’t have this somewhere on your body, in Danni’s colony at least.”
Trew liked the idea. “Okay, then,” he said. “Time for me to get a tattoo.”
Janicka drained her tea and stood. “Yeah, Danni said you might like the idea.” She moved over to her workstation and patted the chair. “Hop on up here and I’ll tell you how your wife has been doing these past few years. She also made me memorize a few messages to give to you.”
Trew moved to sit in Janicka’s chair. “Let’s get to work then, shall we?” he asked.
Janicka smiled as the tattoo gun came alive with a sharp click followed by a dull humming sound.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Happy birthday, Danni!”
“Thanks,” Danielle said in a cool tone. “I hope you didn’t bring me any presents.”
The Devil stood and walked towards the large fire that burned brightly in the small clearing.
Carl had helped Danni sneak away from the festivities once darkness had fallen and the large crowds had begun to gather in smaller groups to play music and dance with each other. She’d had to give Raph and Stephanie the slip, which she didn’t feel totally comfortable with, but Carl had assured her everything would be fine.
Now here they were, standing in the middle of a small clearing a few kilometres from the Colony. Daniel was alone, smiling with arms spread wide as he walked toward the flames, which appeared to dance and change colours as he got closer to them. Without stopping, Daniel walked directly into the blaze and strolled through the fire, emerging unharmed, close to his visitors. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and stopped a respectful distance from the pair.
“Fire,” he said. “It’s just not as hot as it used to be. You know, before the Day.”
Danni shook her head and surveyed the area. There was a blanket on the ground with a picnic basket and two bottles of wine. Three chairs were placed close together; Danni walked to one and sat down. Carl followed her, bending down to grab one of the bottles and throwing it high into the air before sitting down beside her. Danni’s eyes flicked upwards to follow the arc of the bottle. As it began to descend, she held out her hand and it sped straight towards her palm, making a sharp snapping sound as it made contact with her hand. She rolled her head slightly and the cork exploded out of the top of the bottle, then she held it behind her shoulder and began to pour...
Carl had a glass in position to catch the glowing blue liquid as it streamed out of the bottle. He made a faint ting
sound against the glass, and Danni stopped pouring for the count of three, resuming as Carl placed the second glass underneath the stream.
The entire time Danni kept her eyes locked on the Devil’s.
Daniel chuckled and walked toward the empty seat, sitting down and extending his hand to take the glass of wine Carl was offering. With a nod of thanks he waited until Danni filled the third, then raised his glass in a toast.
“Here’s to another sixty-two years,” he said.
“I’ll drink to that,” Danni nodded and clinked glasses with the two men before taking a drink. She couldn’t help but smile as she tasted the wine; it was the favourite drink of the Timeless. She’d sampled it once before when she first met Daniel; it was a pleasant treat, although she wouldn’t admit it to him.
Daniel took a drink from his own glass. “The second bottle is for you to take with you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re most welcome,” he said. “I recommend that you save it for special occasions; there is no more being made at the moment.”
“You came all this way just to share a drink with me on my birthday?” Danni asked sweetly. “I’m flattered.”
“I came to pick up a friend. The birthday drink was just a pleasant coincidence.”
“Your friend must not live near here... our settlement is the only populated group for kilometres all around.”
Daniel nodded. “It turns out that my friend is living in your settlement,” he said.
“That’s not pleasant news for me to hear,” Danni frowned with concern. “You’ve planted a mole in my home, and now you expect me to give them to you?”
“Oh, no, you misunderstand me,” the Devil said. “He’s not one of mine... ye
t.
He just happens to be living safely inside your walls at the moment.”
“I see.” Danni took another sip of her wine. “I doubt very much that he will want to join you, especially after I have a chat with him.”
Daniel drank from his glass as he looked into the fire. “I think we might be able to come to some sort of agreement on this, Danni,” he said.
“I can’t imagine the two of us ever reaching an agreement on anythin
g.
”
“You still owe me Gamer lives.” Daniel flashed a dangerous grin.
“You owe me for the ones you took,” Dani replied. Daniel’s eyes turned to ice. “If you want to settle up on old debts, that suits me,” she added.
“Carl,” Daniel looked at his old Captain. “How many Gamers were you short when you abandoned us?”
Carl’s eyes were flat as he growled the answer. “A hundred thousand.”
“That’s more than you have in your rather large group at the moment, I think.” Daniel put a leg over his chair and swung it comfortably. “Since it’s your birthday, and I’ve come all this way with so little backup, I will forgive the hundred thousand Gamer lives still outstanding on my ledger books.” He raised his glass towards Danni and arched an eyebrow. “You give me the one soul in your camp that I came for, and I won’t bother you or yours ever again. What do you say to that, Danielle?”
Danielle glared at the Devil for a long time. Finally she gave him a smile of her own and asked, “What’s this person’s name?”
===
Thirteen
“You came in with the new group today, didn’t you?” a voice asks from the darkness.
I look over and see an old man materialize as he gets closer to the fire. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t do much to improve his appearance. He’s filthy, although I detect no odour as he sits down beside me.
His hair is standing all over the place, with bits of twig and dirt in it. There’s a plastic crinkling sound coming from his outfit, and as he sits down with a light thud I see that he’s covered entirely in black and green garbage bags. He sighs contentedly and stretches his feet towards the fire. Black army boots with no laces dangle loosely from his skinny, hairless legs. His hands clink musically as he extends them towards the fire for warmth.
“Are your gloves made out of red pop bottle caps?” I ask.
He pulls them quickly towards himself and holds them closely to his red bulbous nose. “Yes!” he exclaims, “Red bottle caps! I had forgotten what they were called. Thank you, my new friend, for helping me to remember!”
I shift away from him slightly and nod my head. “No problem,” I say, as I look back towards the fire. There’s music all around us with hundreds of people dancing happily. Many in my group have joined them, but I prefer to sit out of the way and watch. We have just enjoyed our first big meal in months, and I want to let it settle peacefully.
“Glad to be off the road and surrounded by protection for a change?” the old man asks.
I look at him to see if he’s speaking to me directly, or in general terms. His gaze is on the fire, and it looks innocent enough. I nod and answer his question. “It’s very stressful to be out there with only a small group for protection,” I admit.
“Well, you’re all safe here now,” the man reaches forward and snags a discarded chicken leg from a plate nearby. He munches on it enthusiastically and looks at me again. Despite his filthy appearance, his eyes appear sharp and clever.
“So you didn’t tell me your name,” he says.
“You haven’t told me yours, either,” I counter.
“Fair enough,” he nods, “but I did ask you first.”
I open my mouth to give him my new name. Not the one I remember, but one that makes people comfortable. Before I can say anything he raises his hand and wags a finger. “Tut tut tut,” he says. “Unless you’re going to tell me your real name, I don’t want you to even utter a sound.”
The words catch in my throat. There’s no way this old man knows what he’s talking about. I smile and assume he’s the local idiot. He likely plays this game with everyone he meets for the first time. I take a breath to answer him again, but the words he says next steal my voice away.
“You’re Thirteen, right?” he asks.
My mouth snaps shut and I sit there looking at him. My mind is racing. How does he know that? I decide that I’m not going to admit anything to him. I smile and say, “That’s not a name, that’s a number, old man.”
“Indeed it is,” he nods gently. “But in this case, it appears to be your name, young fellow. Don’t bother to deny it. I know a number when I see one. Three is in the camp as well, you know?”
There’s another one of us in the camp
?
he thought
.
I don’t remember any of them, but I wonder if they would remember me.
The old man chuckles and shakes his head as if he’s reading my mind. “I doubt she would recognize you if she saw you. Don’t worry my boy, your secret’s safe with me.”
“There’s no secret, friend,” I say. “My name isn’t Thirteen.”
The old man stands up and tosses the chicken leg into the fire, wiping his greasy hands on his garbage bag covering as he shakes his head. “That’s too bad,” he says. “Someone is coming to get Thirteen, and he will need my help to avoid it from happening. If I don’t find him soon, he’ll be in serious trouble.” Then he begins to walk away.
“Wait!” I call out.
The man stops, his gloves clinking like singing birds as he turns back towards me.
“I am called Thirteen by some,” I admit.
The old man nods. “Then come with me, boy. We need to get you someplace safe for a little while.”
He begins to walk quickly into the darkness. I hurry to keep up with him.