Gamers' Rebellion (16 page)

‘We are equal, Alpha and I,’ began Designer Beta.

‘Sure you are, Johnny-boy,’ said Tark. ‘That’s why she’s out there, and you’re in here.’

‘I’m the only one she trusted enough,’ said Beta.

‘You think you’re the jailer,’ said Tark, bringing it home. ‘But you’re not, are you? You’re just another inmate. Placed here so as not to get in Alpha’s way.’

‘That is not true,’ insisted Designer Beta. ‘I am essential. I am …’

‘I know how your mind works, John Hayes,’ said Tark. ‘You forget … you are my avatar. I’ve
been
you. I know how much you love being in charge – the one making the decisions; the one with all the answers … the Alpha.’

Designer Beta took a few steps back and did a little turn. He came around to face Tark again, holding a flamethrower. ‘And don’t think I can’t see through you,’ he said. ‘I was playing as you before there was even a spark of sentience in you. You play dumb, but you’re not. You let Zyra take the lead, you allow her the limelight, even though it’s rightfully yours.’

‘Nah,’ said Tark. ‘Zyra and I … we
are
a team.’

Designer Beta’s hand tightened on the weapon, knuckles going white. The pilot flame ignited, flickering in front of the barrel, waiting for a jet of gas.

‘Alert!’ The androgynous computer voice spoke. ‘Nanobots in control subjects are being modified.’

‘What?’

‘Security has been alerted,’ the voice continued. ‘Designer Alpha is taking countermeasures. She instructs that you are not to eliminate Tark. He must be kept alive and detained.’

‘Orders from your boss?’ asked Tark.

‘Shut up!’ snapped Designer Beta.

‘No!’ said Tark, taking a step forward.

‘Stay back, or I’ll –’

‘Or you’ll what?’ said Tark, taking another step. ‘Incinerate me? Your boss lady just gave you an order. You’re to keep me alive.’

‘I make the decisions here!’ shouted Beta. ‘This is my domain. I’m the king of this … cottage. She isn’t here. She does not control me.’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Tark, taking yet another step. ‘Sure you are. You’re going to kill me even though she said no. Do that, and she’ll never let you out.’

Designer Beta pulled the trigger, a burst of flame shooting just to the left of Tark.

Despite the intense heat, Tark willed himself to keep still. He knew that if he showed any weakness, all would be lost.

Screaming in frustration, Designer Beta switched off the flamethrower. Quietening, he wavered, a moment of uncertainty passing over his eyes. Then the weapon was gone.

Tark pressed home his advantage. ‘That’s a good lapdog. Back away.’

‘She said not to kill you.’ Designer Beta looked Tark in the eyes. ‘But I don’t need to kill you.’ He lifted a pistol and shot Tark in the leg.

Tark fell to the floor, searing pain running through his left leg, surprise running over his face. He had underestimated Designer Beta. He fell to the floor clutching his thigh, blood spilling out of the wound, soaking into his leggings, seeping out over his fingers.

‘What have you done?’ It was Designer Alpha’s voice.

‘I haven’t killed him,’ said Designer Beta defensively. ‘Just wounded him.’

‘Designer Prime is modifying the nanobots for the control subjects,’ said Designer Alpha. ‘They are gaining Game consciousness. They are overcoming the containment. You need to increase the capacity of the containment field.’

Designer Beta turned away from Tark and walked to a dark corner of the room. The area lit up, revealing banks of grimy computer equipment. It looked to be in the same state as the tank, as if no one had cleaned it in decades. The Designer bent over the equipment.

Tark dragged himself over to the tank. Leaning his weight on it, he started to pull himself up to his feet. Finally, standing, he leaned his face up against it, staring into its murky depths.

A face swam up to him. It was Mel.

‘Help!’

He saw her mouthing the word. He also heard it in his head.

‘Help! Let me out!’

Straining against the pain in his leg, Tark turned and pushed off from the glass. He took an unsteady step. Then another. And another. With a huge effort of will he made his way towards Designer Beta, leaving a little trail of blood in his wake.

Designer Beta worked the controls, as meters went over into the red and warnings flashed across screens. He turned, just as Tark lunged at him. The Designer tried to bring the gun around to point at Tark, but Tark grabbed his arms. The two of them stumbled and toppled over.

They hit the floor and Tark yelled out, his leg throbbing with pain. They tumbled, struggling for control of the weapon. They both had their hands on it, each trying to bring it around to point at the other.

And then, to the surprise of both of them, the gun fired. They stopped struggling. The bullet had hit the tank. The glass was very thick, but a small crack had appeared.

‘No!’ Designer Beta shouted. He shoved Tark and scrambled to his feet, the gun skittering across the floor. Racing to the tank, he crouched down and ran a hand over the crack.

Tark looked up. Mel was still there, at the glass, staring out at Designer Beta. Beta turned around and stalked back towards Tark. With a cry of rage, he kicked Tark in his wounded leg, and then returned his attention to the computers.

Tark howled in pain, clutching at his leg. His vision swam and his mind came close to shutting down.

Designer Beta worked the controls with renewed vigour, before hitting a communications switch.

‘Designer Alpha,’ he called. ‘I’ve got containment at maximum. But the tank’s integrity has been compromised.’ He gave Tark a scowl. ‘There’s nothing more I can do. Time for me to leave.’

There was no answer.

‘Exit!’ Designer Beta shouted. ‘Let me out!’

Still no answer.

‘Designer Alpha?’ he yelled, hitting the communications switch again. ‘Burrows!’

He stabbed at the switch, hand trembling a little, over and over.

‘Tina, please!’ His voice softened to a pleading tone. ‘Let me out.’

Still no response.

Designer Beta brought his fist down onto the communications switch. It snapped off.

‘FINE!’ he screamed, his voice cracking a little. He was looking up at nothing in particular, turning from right to left. ‘I’ll get myself out. Don’t think that I can’t.’

Designer Beta threw himself at the controls like a maniac. Tark watched with a certain sense of satisfaction, despite the pain in his leg.

‘Help!’ He heard the voice in his mind again. ‘Help you.’

He looked up towards the tank. Mel stared out at him, floating in the green liquid. ‘Help you.’

Tark dragged himself across the floor, breath coming in ragged gasps. He made it to the tank and pressed his face up against the glass above the crack. His eyes connected with Mel’s.

‘Help you,’ she said again.

Tark let go of his leg and placed a bloody hand up against the glass, redness smearing across the surface. The girl also placed her hand up to the glass, fingers spread.

The gun fired. The floor next to Tark’s foot erupted where the bullet bit into its surface. He looked up to see Designer Beta, levelling the gun at his head.

‘I don’t care what she says anymore.’ His finger tightened on the trigger. ‘I want you dead.’

Tark squeezed his eyes shut. Inside his head, he heard the girl’s voice.

‘Help you,’ she said. ‘Bring you hope.’

And then he was gone.

29: Portal Battle

Robbie led Zyra up through the hatch in the floor, into the programming portal.

Designer Prime was engaged in complex code manipulation. Numbers swam around him as his finger picked out digits and moved them, replaced them or deleted them. At the edges of the display, symbols spun together in a little tornado of code.

‘What’s he doing?’ asked Zyra.

‘He is designing,’ explained Robbie, eyes wide. ‘He is working with raw code.’

Zyra watched as Robert took a string of code and picked it apart, deleting at least a third of it, before adding new numbers. He then pushed the string into a larger set of numbers and symbols, pushing forward to the next set, numbers rushing past him like the swell in a binary sea. There was such an energy and exhilaration in his actions. He was still old and encased in tech, but a youthful exuberance fuelled his movements.

‘What’s that?’ asked Zyra, pointing to the edge of the display.

The little code tornado was growing, swirling around, gathering more digits, working its way towards Designer Prime.

‘That is Designer Alpha’s attempts to stop me,’ said Robert. ‘She has created a code vortex in the hope of deleting my amendments.’

Zyra noticed the strain in the Designer’s voice.

‘I will not let her win.’

As one hand continued to work on the nanobot coding, Robert’s other hand created a new stream of numbers.

‘What’s happening?’ asked Zyra.

‘He’s reversing the polarity of her neutron flow,’ said Robbie.

‘I don’t get it,’ said Zyra.

‘Neither will she.’ Robbie smiled. ‘It’s nonsense. It means nothing. But she will think that it does. She’ll try to understand it.’

The second lot of coding complete, Robert pushed it towards the code tornado. His numbers collided with Designer Alpha’s in a binary explosion. The fallout of dispersed numbers buffeted Robert, scattering some of the primary code that he had been working on. With methodical intent, Robert gathered the digits, reinserted them and continued with the coding.

‘Almost there,’ said Robert, sweat beading on his forehead.

At the edges of the display, digits were grouping. They moved towards each other, around each other, through each other. A new tornado of code took shape. Bigger this time, it shifted slowly across the display, gathering code into its vortex as it went.

‘Watch out,’ warned Zyra.

Robert sent out another small wave of code towards it. The digital storm barely paused as it absorbed the new set of numbers.

‘Almost,’ said Robert, ignoring the tornado now and concentrating on his main coding. ‘This will give them physical presence within the Game,’ he said. ‘But they will be confused.’ Robert strained to get the words out. ‘Some more than others. The longer they have been connected, the more difficult it will be for them to regain a normal consciousness.’ He shifted more numbers. ‘This may affect the stability of the Game.’

The tornado code was getting dangerously close to Robert, but he continued to ignore it in favour of the nanobot programming.

‘Got it!’ he said, adding the last decimal point with a little flourish. Using both hands he pushed his coding out into the system, just as the code tornado reached him.

The swirling mass of coding enveloped him, lifted him and his chair up off the ground and dragged him into the maelstrom. Zyra and Robbie watched in horror as the coding pulled at Robert in all directions at once.

‘It’s going to tear him apart,’ gasped Zyra.

‘Close portal,’ called Robbie.

‘Unable to comply,’ said the androgynous voice of the computer.

‘Override access code CARBON COPY ONE,’ shouted Robbie. ‘Close portal.’

‘Access code denied,’ said the voice. ‘Unable to comply.’

Robert screamed as the tornado pulled at his chair. Pieces were ripped off and eaten up by the coding.

‘Is there any way to disconnect it?’ asked Zyra, turning to Robbie in desperation.

‘No,’ said Robbie. ‘The computer won’t give me access. Designer Alpha must have removed my access code.’

With most of the chair gone, Robert’s body was stretched out into an X shape as the coding continued to swirl around him, pulling him simultaneously in all directions. His withered legs looked as if they were about to be torn from his body, his frail back as if it would snap at any moment. His mechanical arm was bent at an impossible angle as it came apart.

‘What about me?’ asked Zyra. ‘Can I do something?’

‘Designer Alpha might not have removed your access,’ said Robbie. ‘She may not even have realised you had been given access.’

Zyra stepped forward. ‘Computer, let me in.’

‘Security scan.’

The green light wavered across her body.

‘Identity confirmed,’ said the computer. ‘Welcome, Zyra.’

‘Close portal,’ shouted Zyra. ‘Now!’

The display vanished. Robert and the debris of his chair came crashing to the floor.

Zyra and Robbie rushed over to Robert’s crumpled form.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Zyra, taking hold of his withered hand.

‘No,’ said Robert. Without his chair, Robert’s voice, for the first time in many years, came from his dry and cracked lips. It had lost its electronic edge and its authority – it was barely a whispered croak. He looked up at Zyra. ‘It’s up to you now. Save them. Save the Game.’ He coughed. ‘It is so much more than a Game. It is real to those inside. It is their only reality. And they deserve to live within it.’

He shifted his gaze to Robbie. ‘You are my legacy in this world, as Bobby is inside the Game.’ He looked into Robbie’s eyes and gasped. ‘It has all been prepared for. Programmed. Designed. As I die … sleeper code released. You … are now … me.’

Robert closed his eyes for the last time.