Gamer Army Read online

  “Mr. Culum is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in digi-space or IRL,” Rogan said. “Sure, he’s a little weird with all that ‘ride technology into the future’ stuff, but he cares about people. He’s been good to me. To all of us.”

  Jackie shook her head. “We don’t have time to explain it all right now. You have to trust us. You and Shay are in danger. If your laser viper robot is destroyed while your mind is still uploaded to it, you will probably suffer serious brain damage. It will probably kill you. Xavier is working undercover for a secret group that’s code-named Scorpion and trying to stop Culum and Atomic Frontiers.”

  “That’s right,” Beckett said. “Scorpion are the good guys.”

  “Be ready,” said Takashi. “Try to secretly get word about this to Shay. Scorpion is about to make its move to get the two of you out of Atomic Frontiers HQ. Until then, trust us, and trust X.”

  “But don’t blow his cover!” Beckett said. “You have to keep going along with everything like you were before. Don’t let Culum know you suspect them.”

  Before Rogan could protest any more, Jackie squeezed his hand, but he felt nothing in the cheap gamer gloves. “You’ve got to log out and hide that VR set now. But remember, when you’re in your viper, stay alive. This is not a game.”

  By the time X came to get Rogan and Shay up for the championship round, Rogan had hardly slept. He’d spent some time shaking and alone in his bathroom. Then he carefully hid the VR set and paced his room until he decided to risk going to tell Shay about what had happened. He hoped it was all a game, and she’d been playing too. But he stopped himself outside the door to her room. He was being watched by cameras all over the commons, and there was no way he could explain a midnight visit to Shay’s dorm room.

  It was all so confusing, so frightening. For the first time in a very long time, Rogan thought he wanted a break from video games. In the end, he slept two, maybe three hours.

  After a short breakfast, Shay and Rogan followed X. The man had always been purposeful, but his march to the med lab today was so rapid and big-stepped they almost had to jog to catch up. He stopped at one point, and turned to them like he was about to say something.

  Rogan held his breath, hoping X would give him some sign of what was really going on, but when two cambots rolled up, X shook his head and kept moving.

  “Shaylyn!” Sophia cried as they entered the lab. “Rogan! This is it, you two! You’re the two best Laser Viper gamers in America, maybe even the whole world, but Atomic Frontiers is looking for a champion …”

  She kept going on with the usual stuff about how they were both amazing, they’d both done a fantastic job, and while it would be so hard to say goodbye to one of them after this round, it would be wonderful to recognize a champion.

  Rogan watched Mr. Culum carefully, looking for any trace of evil or danger. But he was the same nerdy old man, the same kind and enthusiastic genius. Even his clothes never changed. Mr. Culum said a lot more of the same stuff about the greatness of his new game system, changing the world, nothing would be as it was, and blah blah blah.

  Neither of them listened. They were both too nervous, excited, and focused on the upcoming game to pay attention to the speeches, though Rogan figured their anxiety came from different sources. Shay hadn’t given any sign that she’d been to digi-space last night. She was the same old competitive gamer.

  “Listen up!” X finally said loudly. “For this game round, because Flyer is so much faster and because the judges feel that Rogan has earned a bit of a head start, Rogan will begin the round a bit earlier. Shaylyn will be held back for a while.”

  “What?!” Shaylyn shouted. “That’s not fair! So you’ve already decided on the winner?!”

  Rogan couldn’t say he was happy about this either. If he were in Shay’s position, he’d be furious. Beyond that, he was looking forward to a fair contest, the chance to play his best, and hopefully to beat Shaylyn fairly, leaving no doubt about which of them was the best gamer. But this way, she’d always have that “head start” excuse to hold over him.

  And if this wasn’t a game, he’d need her help.

  Mr. Culum waved his arms in front of him. “No, no, no! It’s not like that. I can see how that would be upsetting. It will all become clear in the game. The point is that each viper mod has its own set of specific functions, and although you will both be part of the same mission, you have different roles within the mission, and you’ll be judged by how well you accomplish the goals for your part of the mission.”

  Sophia beamed at her. “I admire your passion, Shaylyn. Way to stick up for yourself! But I promise you, Atomic Frontiers is absolutely dedicated to fairness in the Laser Viper Final Challenge.”

  Mr. Culum held up the silver data cables, ready to connect the gamers to the game. “All that said, who’s ready to begin?”

  After the dizzying pixelation, Rogan didn’t know what surprised him more: the fact that he was sitting in the back of a stretch limousine or that the face staring back at him in the reflection off the inactive wall screen was that of a woman. But it wasn’t just any woman. He was Sun Station One chief engineer and science officer Dr. Valerie Dorfman.

  Rogan moved his hand in front of his face, and the woman in the reflection matched his movement. “Wow” was all he could think to say. His voice came out much higher than Lieutenant Ericson’s, Captain Star’s, or his own. He—she—was no longer wearing the plain blue jumpsuit she’d had on when floating around the station. Shiny red hair fell in loose curls down over her right shoulder. Black makeup stuff had been stuck in her eyelashes over her deep green eyes. She … He … was sitting there in a long, dark blue dress with kind of shiny trim stuff that looked like a fake belt. Suddenly he knew how the girls must have felt when they were digi-disguised as dudes. It took some getting used to.

  But this had to be a game. If it were all real, why would he possibly be disguised as Dr. Dorfman in this prom dress? Whatever super-secret mission was involved with this game round, he hoped nobody would ask him about fashion.

  “OK, Rogan. This is X. The game system is up and running. How are you feeling?”

  Rogan caught the limo driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He turned away from the driver and covered his mouth. “X,” Rogan said quietly. “What’s going on?”

  “Relax, Ro. The driver is an operative for Project Laser Viper. You can speak freely.”

  “Right. Fine. Just tell me why,” Rogan said. “What’s the mission? And where’s Shay?”

  “Shay is inbound to your location on the StarScreamer. Her viper will be in the area soon. We’re going to do this one a little bit different, Ro. We’re filling you in with the needed details as the mission rolls along.”

  “Seriously?” Rogan asked. “How am I supposed to do whatever it is you want me to do if you don’t tell me what I’m supposed to be doing? Where am I, anyway?” Rogan looked out the window, and in seconds his system labeled the six-lane freeway he was on as Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Boulevard. Dubai. United Arab Emirates.

  Rogan shook his head. No matter how weird he felt appearing as a woman in a dress, he had to admit it was cool to be able to instantly google just about anything right in his head. The programs and abilities he could access in this game with just a thought were like magic, and he wished he could have these abilities permanently.

  The road curved a little as it passed the Dubai Mall, and out the window Rogan had a view of a ridiculously tall tower. His system instantly labeled it as the Burj Khalifa, 2,722 feet tall.

  “That’s the site of your next mission,” X said. “When it was completed back in 2009, it was the tallest building in the world. Now it’s in third place, but it’s still impressive. Now check out your purse. It’s real and not a product of your PNC. In it you’ll find a couple thousand dollars in cash, an equivalent amount in United Arab Emirates dirhams, several high-limit credit cards, and some gently used makeup to help sell the illusion of your cover when the purse is sea
rched.”

  Rogan peeked into the shiny sequined handbag. X wasn’t lying.

  The man continued. “There’s also an ID and a VIP pass to an exclusive party on the one hundred fifty-fourth floor. You will be attending a reception that will kick off a conference about the future of the United Arab Emirates. The UAE and other Middle Eastern countries are working to shift away from total oil dependence to other energy supplies and sources of income. You might recognize Dr. Valerie Dorfman from your tour of Sun Station One. You are scheduled to offer a presentation on the second day of the conference about SS1, and about the final phase of construction. As you know, the real Sun Station One is scheduled to go online very soon, so we thought it would be the perfect addition to the game.”

  “A presentation? But I don’t know anything about that stuff,” Rogan objected in a woman’s voice.

  “Relax,” X said. “Even if you had to deliver your presentation, we’d be able to feed you enough information to get you through it. But this mission will be over long before that.”

  “What is the mission?” Rogan asked.

  “One step at a time,” said X. “Part of what we’re testing is the gamer’s ability to adapt to unexpected and changing situations. And, um, working alone. Right now, just get yourself into the reception. Whatever happens, no matter how strange or unexpected it might be, act like you belong there, and try to have a good time.”

  After stopping to show credentials at several checkpoints, the driver brought the limo to a special entrance in a secure parking facility. Rogan appreciated the realism and detail as the limo rolled past cars his system recognized as a gleaming red Ferrari, a Pagani Huayra with gull-wing doors, a five-million-dollar Bugatti Veyron, a couple of Lamborghinis with a top speed of 240 miles per hour, and a Koenigsegg ZX Diamante, the exterior of which was finished in carbon fibers coated with a diamond dust resin. Other lesser BMWs and Porsches filled the spaces between these incredible vehicles. He wondered if this was an accurate representation of Dubai, if people were really this rich.

  “OK, Rogan. Here you go. Remember, your disguise works perfectly, but it is keyed to your movements, so smile and step out of the car. Try to remember you’re supposed to be wearing high heels, so take small steps.”

  “Yeah, haven’t had much practice with that,” Rogan said.

  The driver opened the back door, and Rogan slid out of the car directly onto a red carpet that led through a set of glass doors into the building.

  A man with black hair, brown skin, a sharp business suit, and a smooth smile stepped up to greet him.

  “Welcome to Dubai and the Horizon Conference, Dr. Dorfman,” the man said. “I’m Essa Al Tayer. If you will follow me, my assistants will check your identification and quickly scan your bag. Then they will lead you to a direct elevator to the reception.”

  Inside, a man in long white traditional Arab robes ran Valerie Dorfman’s purse through a scanner. After he was reunited with Dr. Dorfman’s purse, Rogan was led into a shiny elevator with a young man in a straight suit and white gloves. There were 154 buttons on the panel and not a single fingerprint. The man punched the top left button and the elevator started its ascent.

  A projection on the inside of the white doors counted up the numbers, about a floor per second, and the height in meters continued to increase.

  Off to the side of his field of vision, Rogan caught a flash of blue-white light, a digital pixelation distortion in the air. “Ro—” A voice, not X’s or the elevator operator’s, was cut off by static. “Rogan …”

  A 2-D image projected on the door made the lift appear to rise above one of the Egyptian pyramids … the Eiffel Tower in Paris … Central Park Tower in New York …

  Another flash. More digital distortion in the air. Then a blue-white see-though holographic image of Takashi flashed into existence next to him. “Rogan, if you can hear and see me, say nothing but put your hands on your hips.” Rogan hesitated for only a moment, but then did as the image asked.

  A digi-ghost hand pushed Takashi aside and he vanished, replaced by Jackie. “We’re getting better at hacking into the Atomic Frontiers’s laser viper system. Culum can’t see or hear us, but he knows everything you do and say, so be cool. We’re working on a way to get you out of there. But you have to keep playing along until then. Above all, keep your laser viper functioning.”

  Beckett’s head materialized, as if he’d leaned into the projection field from wherever he, Jackie, and Takashi were transmitting. “If your viper dies, you die.”

  Jackie nodded, looking right at Rogan. “We have to cut our signal off soon, or we risk detection. I know what you’re thinking, Rogan. But this isn’t some clever twist that Culum has sneaked into the final challenge to test you. It’s not a game. It never was. It’s life or death. Good luck, Ranger.” The ghost image pixelated and winked out with a static hiss-pop.

  The elevator operator had been staring off into space, but he’d begun to notice Dr. Dorfman acting strange. The video projected onto the elevator door showed Wuhan Greenland Center tower in China, and finally the Burj Khalifa, as the recorded narrator pointed out in the two-minute elevator ride that it was the third tallest building in the world, behind Saudi Arabia’s Jeddah Tower and the colossal 5,500-foot Sky Mile Tower in Tokyo, Japan.

  Rogan emerged into a bright room with white walls and a white ceiling. Pale upholstered chairs and sofas were spaced near small round wood tables. About as many guests were dressed in Western-style tuxedos and dresses as were in the long white robe-looking clothes that the Arab men wore. Servants in simple black dresses or suits flowed through the reception, carrying trays with hors d’oeuvres or fruit juice.

  Was this real or a game? It wasn’t like it was the 1990s and his grandpa’s video games anymore. Games had looked real for a long time. But this felt real. Still, that could be part of the illusion. Rogan wondered if he could switch to internal comms.

  “Is Shay here yet?” Rogan asked, relieved when nobody else in the room seemed to hear.

  “She’ll enter the game pretty soon,” X said. “Everything is fine. Trust me. Now just try to have a good time. Blend in.”

  Had Rogan imagined it, or was there a little more emphasis when X had said “trust me”? No, he thought, this was all just part of a realistic, complex video game. There was no way this could be real. Unless … if game suits could tell a computer how to move characters in a video game, why couldn’t they control a computer in a robot the same way? If that had all been real, then that super-high-capacity data transmitter might make hyperstreaming his whole consciousness to his viper possible.

  Either way, real life or video game, he had to keep going, play to win—or to stay alive.

  His gaze moved past two men in flowing Arab garb, and his system showed red triangles near each man’s hip.

  “Don’t worry about it, Rogan. It’s just standard security. With any luck, a lot more of these guys will turn up.”

  Rogan sauntered over to the windows, away from the secretly armed men near the elevators. He grabbed a champagne flute of mango juice from a server on the way, figuring he could just hold it, the way everyone else seemed to be carrying a drink.

  “You’ll actually be able to appear to drink that, no problem,” X said. “A modification has been programmed into your laser viper for this purpose. Just try to take small sips. It’s not like the viper has to take normal, human-sized drinks. You could dump all that juice along with the whole glass down the hatch all at once. The liquid will be boiled off in a special processor in the Ranger’s belly.”

  “Right,” Rogan said quietly. If this were only a video game, would they bother with a detail like the practical way to get a robot to appear to drink? “I suppose the steam comes out of my—whoa.” He had stepped up to a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows to take in the view out over Dubai. Rogan had flown in real airplanes. He’d been in the most realistic gaming combat drops. He was no stranger to heights, but he’d never been this high in something
that was still attached to the ground. Dubai’s buildings were tall. From the ground, they looked at least as tall as the highest ones in downtown Seattle, but from up on floor 154 they seemed fake, or like little toys, LEGOs maybe. Cars had become tiny dots, smaller than ants, crawling along the freeway. In the hazy distance beyond it all, the Persian Gulf stretched out to the horizon.

  It was a lot more detail than was usually programmed into even the best video games.

  “Magnificent view, isn’t it?” A man in a tux had stepped up next to Rogan, looking Valerie over a little too closely. Remembering to blend in, Rogan kept smiling. “Though I prefer the view of the Red Sea from the outdoor sky terrace on the Jeddah Tower, even higher up than we are now.”

  “It’s hard to believe people could build something like this,” Rogan said.

  “Really?” said the man. “I should think these simple skyscrapers seem like stacking a child’s wooden blocks compared to Sun Station One.”

  “Um …” Rogan wasn’t sure what to say.

  “The real Valerie Dorfman returned to Earth only two days ago for this conference,” X said.

  Rogan went to internal comms. “Wait. The real Dr. Dorfman or a game simulation version of Dr. Dorfman?”

  A long pause.

  Mr. Culum laughed. “Great question, Rogan. I’m sorry for the confusion. I can see why trying to sort out this gaming stage’s backstory might throw you off. Don’t worry about it.”

  That wasn’t an answer. The question was actually very important.

  Rogan knew Sun Station One was real, that Atomic Frontiers had actually developed the technology and provided most of the funding for the project. But did that prove all of this was real? It would be easy to program this reference into the game. Was this all too sophisticated to be a game? He didn’t know. But like Holo-Jackie had said, he had to keep going.

  He noticed the man watching him, waiting for an answer. “Well.” Rogan searched his mind for something, anything, to say on the subject. “When we’re building the space station … like … if we drop a wrench, it just floats there. If one of the guys building this floor of the tower had dropped a tool—”