Dream Walker (6 page)

“That sounds pretty sweet,” said Raze. “But how is a
job
better then sitting around playing The Q all day?”

“Appropriate question. Well...we would start you off at $100,000 a year.”

Raze was listening. That was already $50,000 better than the sponsorship deal. And he didn’t want to give it away, but Grant was right, if he had to play AnnihilNation even one more time he would die of a boregasm.

Grant wasn’t finished. “All members of our R&D team are provided an apartment in our own complex near the facility—a furnished apartment with a living room equipped with our state-of-the-art entertainment and gaming station. It won’t be the model you are testing, that’s under extremely tight security, but it is the top of the line. You will have a Platinum NOW Network account with free, unlimited access to every game known to The Q, including our P0rnStarz series.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. The complex has a swimming pool, an on-site gym, daily maid service, and access to the company gourmet dining room. Once you pass your probationary period and we are happy with your work, there are several
additional
perks that could be made available.”

Raze blinked a few times.

“For instance, we have company sports cars that would be at your disposal, so you can explore the area in your off-duty time. And if that doesn’t whet your appetite, we have a concierge that can arrange everything from grocery shopping to a personal chef, from a personal masseuse to a call girl to take care of all your
other
physical necessities.”

Raze’s mouth dropped open. He was completely speechless and may have even jizzed in his pants just a little.

“So,” Grant cocked his head to the side and smiled at Raze, “I take it from your mouth hanging open and the silence it is emitting, that would be a yes?” Grant raised his glass of champagne to Raze.

Hell yes, it was a yes. They toasted to the agreement, with the world literally at Raze’s feet.

He moved into the apartment directly from the hotel and, after signing a four-foot stack of contracts and non-disclosure agreements, began work within the week. Work consisted of testing the company’s new gaming system and playing all the new games that were in development. The system employed virtual reality technology, using a full-screen visor, a game controller that was integrated into a pair of gloves and other attaching accessories. When playing a fantasy game, there was a shield and a sword that worked in sync with the gloves. If it was a combat simulator, an automatic weapon or handgun controller could be used. The use of real tools and being visually immersed in the game through the visor interface definitely enhanced the experience.

Raze whizzed through every game they had developed. He found their plot holes and operational glitches. He offered suggestions for improvement about everything from scenarios and characters to tools and objectives. After a few months of this, Grant called him into his office.

“We would like to offer you a promotion.”

“So soon?” Raze was a little dumbfounded. He knew he was good, but really?

“It was what we were hoping for all along. We saw something special in you, and these past months have been...well, consider it a test. Not only were you playing our games, but also our games were analyzing you. How your mind works and what other potential you may have. You have demonstrated some unique abilities and we would like to continue to develop these abilities in a completely new arena. It is an extremely challenging program—few make it through it. But it comes with a significant pay and benefit increase. If you agree, you must complete a rigorous training program and sign an exclusive
lifetime
contract with us.”

Raze didn’t even care about the money. He was already making more than he knew what to do with at 18. And he didn’t care about the extra-curricular benefits too much either. No, Raze was intrigued that there was something even more challenging that he could do.

“Absolutely. Absolutely I’ll do it,” he agreed, although he had no idea what “it” was, or how radically his life would change. And boy, how had life changed. Once he became privy to the truth, there was no turning back.

Raze laughed now as made his way into the antechamber and sat down in one of the armchairs. This was a completely different reality: the
real
, real world. And he hoped that after today’s debacle he could maintain what he’d worked so hard for and retain his right to stay here. He would need to convince the Infiniti 8 that what had happened today in Demesne could not have been foreseen, that the project was not a failure, and that he was still the operative who could see the project through to completion.

The massive steel doors to the boardroom silently slid open and Grant Parker appeared.

“The 8 will see you now,” he said, as he gestured Raze into the Inner Sanctum.

Raze followed Grant through the entry, a little surprised it was he escorting Raze into this meeting. Although Grant had been the one assigned to recruit Raze into this business, “The Opportunity” as Grant had called it, his mentorship had only lasted so long.

They walked down the corridor toward another set of steel doors.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Raze said, stating the obvious to break the silence.

“I was giving The 8 a briefing on a possible new recruit I have my eyes on,” Grant replied. “An amazingly gifted young man. He may even surpass your skills, Raziel.”

“Doubtful. But that would be refreshing. It is a little draining doing all the heavy lifting around here by myself.”

“You say that now, Raze, but when one comes along that outshines your star, you may change your tune.”

“Are you speaking for yourself?”

Grant stopped and turned to him. “No. I am not. I did my time, Raze. You may remember...I helped pioneer this field.”

Raze was unimpressed. In the pioneering days of this business, Grant had made it as high as Level V operative, a major feat back then. But he became more and more obsolete as the skill sets required to do the job became more challenging. The Infiniti 8 rewarded Grant for his service and loyalty by making him CEO of Quantum Gaming Systems, the prime recruiting tool for Infinium’s main mission; but he was no longer viable as an operative.

Especially now that they had someone like Raze.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I didn’t go further because I didn’t
want
to go any further?” Grant asked.

“No. I haven’t. And I don’t. You didn’t progress, because you couldn’t.”

“Well, contrary to your belief, Raziel, I made a choice. I didn’t want to sell my soul. You didn’t have any problems with that, because you never had one.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Grant,” Raze scoffed. “You may not actually do any of the real dirty work, but your soul is sold just the same. Only passively—because you’re a coward.”

“I’m sorry if actually killing people turns my stomach.”

Raze laughed out loud. “I don’t kill people, Grant. You know that. They’re already standing on the cliff. I don’t push them; I only serve to inspire them to jump. Their minds are already a fertile soil for their own destruction.”

“You’re an angel of death.”

“And you are still an accessory to all that we do here. You’re the ‘pioneer’ remember? We could have never done it without you.”

They continued walking down the hall in silence. When they arrived before the next set of doors Grant turned to Raze again.

“Good luck in there, Raziel,” he started to turn away, but turned back and leaned in closer to him. “Oh...and maybe you should watch your back.” Grant turned on his heel and walked back out the way they came.

Raze watched him, unruffled. Grant was never able to accept that Raze had surpassed him, making him almost completely irrelevant. Grant was nothing but a sycophantic pawn in these halls and a mere gopher for The 8.

After Grant was completely outside the inner sanctum, Raze turned back toward the doors. He placed his feet shoulder width apart, closed his eyes, centered himself, and concentrated on grounding.

When he was ready, Raze held his hand in front of a glowing plasma screen inlayed in the door where a doorknob would normally be. He projected his energy frequency through the palm of his hand toward it. The Qi panel began to shift colors—swirls of ultraviolet, indigo, gold, and pitch black blending and turning together. When the combination of colors identified Raze, the internal door mechanism clicked several times and the locks within it disengaged. The door slid open and Raze stepped through into Sanctum Sanctorum.

Located in the third level, subterranean basement of the building, the Sanctum Sanctorum was a cavernous room built in the shape of a circle. The rest of the building rose up from around this room. Stone walls towered up like a column from the ground chamber level to the tenth floor. The room was sealed by a domed skylight of multi-faceted cut glass above the tenth floor. Embedded in the center of the crystallized skylight was the company logo, a 24-karet gold infinity symbol overlapped with two, platinum, capital “I’s”. Seams of glass ran down the walls in geometric patterns, carrying the sun from the ceiling down to the chamber floor, separating the stone blocks with veins of light. It provided just enough ambient lighting to see by, but not in too much detail. The 8 refused to be scrutinized.

It was a rare exception that anybody even knew The 8 existed. While every employee of Infinium Incorporated and its subsidiaries played a supporting role in its mission, only the elite, integral players understood its true nature. The actual mission of the conglomerate was beyond Top Secret. Raze was one of those elite players.

He walked across the black marble floor and stood before them. They were seated in eight gold thrones behind an enormous arc table of illuminated glass. He did not know any of The 8 by name, only by their numerical designation. Numbers 2, 4, 6 and 8 were women. They sat in the semi-circle around the right of him. Numbers 3, 5, 7, and 9 were men, who were seated around him to the left.

An extra chair sat in center of the semi-circle, empty. In the 5 years Raze had worked directly for The 8, that seat had never been filled. There had never been a Number 1. It was a mystery—and one that would stay that way—for Raze was not in the position to ask questions, only to provide answers.

“Hello, Raziel,” Number 7 said.

“Good morning,” Raze replied.

“What do you have to report to us today regarding the Parrish Project,” a female, Number 4, asked.

Raze took a step forward. He’d already decided he was going to lie—well,
withhold information
, which in this world was the same as lying. It was a risk. If The 8 knew or was somehow involved in the situation that occurred today, they would know he was holding back. But chances were they didn’t have any knowledge of today’s events. They relied on Raze’s skills in The Fourth too much. Raze just needed to pacify them and buy himself more time to figure out what had gone wrong so he could remedy the situation on his own.

He decided to start with the good news. “The main target of the project, Mr. Scott Parrish, has been eliminated and is no longer a threat.”

This was the truth. The success of the morning’s operation had been confirmed through the media. Dr. Parrish had been found shot to death at his residence in Modesto. Now, for the bad news.

“Unfortunately, Blake Parrish did not follow through with his assignment, as intended. There was a fluctuation in his frequency pattern after he shot his father.”

Again, this was the truth.

Raze continued, “This may have been due to interference from the Third, where the actual assassination occurred.”

Not so much the truth here. It was a good thing that there wasn’t a frequency reader in the room, because Raze was sure it would have read the instability in his own energy patterns.

“What could have caused such a flux,” asked Number 2.

Raze noted the guileless tone of the question and the lack of suspicion in her disposition, so he proceeded, “It could have been one of a two things. First, the increased kick and the louder decibel level created by a weapon that Blake wasn’t used to using when playing Demesne could have shocked him out of the oscillation net slightly.”

This was a stretch. Manchurian assassination techniques weren’t new and they had been perfected in the past two decades to withstand such differences as using simulated weapons during trial runs versus real guns in actual operations.

“Or it could be attributed to the fact that our candidate was younger than most candidates.”

This was more plausible. Blake, at just under 13 years old, was three years younger than their youngest Manchurian subject had been, a 16-year-old who completed a mass murder on a high school campus in order to eliminate just one targeted professor.

“And while he was well-acquainted and enthusiastic about the product, Blake Parrish was not yet immersed in the culture or in an addicted state, yet. The intervention of Mr. and Mrs. Parrish could have provided enough of an antidote to counteract the game’s magnetism.”

This was not true at all. Little Blake was totally hooked. No matter what intervention his parents had tried, Blake was always able to access the game. Raze had made sure of that. And he had been Raze’s perfect little puppet. That is until an extremely attractive glitch invaded Demesne this morning and interrupted the operation.