The Kimota Anthology Part 40

"Games, of course! Every five hundred years the Elders of the Universe choose a challenger, that's you, to compete in a tournament of games against Ty'rek the Gamesmaster, that's me."

"Why?"

Ty'rek shrugged. "That's just the kind of thing that cosmic beings do."

Jason looked about the room. He knew he was pretty good at most of the games he could recognise but there were several that he had never seen before. "Do we play all the games?"

Ty'rek nodded. "Until we have a clear winner."

"And then what happens?"

"One of us is rewarded and one of us is punished."

"What if I refuse to play?"

"n.o.body's ever refused the Elders of the Universe."

"Maybe it's about time someone did," said Jason defiantly. "How do I talk to the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?"

Ty'rek coughed. "You didn't let me finish. I was going to say that no one's ever refused them and lived."

Jason paled. "So we're playing tag first are we?"

The game was a disaster. Ty'rek was far faster and more agile than Jason, after ten minutes he had still hadn't tagged him even once.

"Didn't do too good there," grinned Ty'rek. "Let's try something else." He pulled out a box of Battles.h.i.+ps.

This time Jason kicked his a.r.s.e. Ty'rek obviously wasn't used to the game, by the time he started to get the hang of it Jason was too far ahead for him to catch up. Afterwards they played a game from Ty'rek's home world which resembled Swingball but instead of a ball it used a solid light hologram which projected decoy holograms of itself so you didn't know which to hit. Jason couldn't make head nor tail of the game and finished the match tired, frustrated and utterly defeated.

So it went, Ty'rek would have the advantage in one game, Jason in another. Slowly the score started to tip in Ty'rek's favour as he won more and more games. Jason was terrified, he didn't want to face the wrath of the Elders of the Universe. He fought back desperately until they were tied. There was only game left to play.

Noughts and crosses.

"This'll be the decider," said Ty'rek as they sat down to play.

"But no one ever loses at noughts and crosses," protested Jason.

"We'll just have to keep on playing until one of us does."

Three hours later they were still playing. They had used up eight large pads plus the entire surface of the table drawing their grids. After that they had started scribbling on the walls, pretty soon they would have to use the floor. Jason hoped that he could win before they had to resort to finding a way of drawing on the ceiling.

Jason fought to keep his eyes open as he drew his next nought. He was drained, physically and mentally, all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep, it was an effort just to remain standing. "Can't we stop yet?" he yawned.

"No." Ty'rek drew a cross.

"How much longer does this have to go on?"

Ty'rek shrugged. "I had one match go on for over two thousand years."

Jason drew a nought, only missing the grid they were playing on by a few inches. "Christ, would have thought one of you would've won before that. Or died of old age."

"This room is surrounded by a time bubble, prevents anyone inside it from aging."

The thought of spending eternity locked in an endless game of noughts and crosses galvanised Jason's weary brain cells into searching for a means of escape.

"If the match is declared a draw the Elders can't do anything to us can they?"

"The Elders won't be satisfied until there's a winner."

"But if we play really badly, fake exhaustion or something-"

"They can tell if someone is playing to their full ability, if you hold back they sentence you to a slow and painful death."

"So we're stuck?"

"I'd say so." Ty'rek drew another cross.

Jason stared at the grid. His next move would let him win. Ty'rek was so tired that he had overlooked the two noughts Jason had lined up. He blinked and shook his head, wanting to ensure that his fatigued brain wasn't playing tricks on him. But there could be no mistake, Ty'rek had definitely lost. Jason drew the final nought and put a line through it. The pen kept going off the end of the grid and down the wall as Jason slumped to the floor, exhausted.

Ty'rek's twin sets of eyes gazed at the paper sleepily. "s.h.i.+t."

"Sorry about that me old son,' said Jason. "But it was you or me."

Ty'rek continued staring at the grid, unable to believe what had happened. "I haven't lost a game of noughts and crosses in over three thousand years."

"First time for everything," said Jason. He knew he sounded like a smug b.a.s.t.a.r.d but he couldn't help it, he had won, they were going to set him free!

"Well, I suppose I'd better be going then," said Ty'rek. He patted Jason on the shoulder. "I hope you're very happy here."

Jason sat up sharply. "f.u.c.k you talking about? I won! I'm going home!"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? It's the loser that gets sent home. The winner becomes the new Gamesmaster and gets to stay here."

"But - but -"

"Don't worry, in five hundred years time the Elders of the Universe will send someone to challenge you. Who knows? They might even win."

Jason leapt off the floor, suddenly no longer tired. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! That wasn't fair! I didn't know the rules!"

Ty'rek shrugged. "Should've asked."

A door appeared in the far wall. Ty'rek walked over and opened it. He paused with his claw on the handle and looked at Jason. "I'm sorry it had to be this way but like you said, it was you or me."

He stepped through the door. As he closed it Jason rushed over and flung himself at the handle. The handle instantly turned red-hot, singeing his flesh. Screaming in pain Jason leapt back and blew on his hands. He expected to see livid burns on his palms but the skin was unmarred. Staring at his hands in amazement he realised that the pain had vanished. He turned to tackle the door again but that too had gone.

He started screaming at the top of his voice. He knew the Elders of the Universe had to be watching, they would want to see who had won the contest.

"Let me go, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! You can't keep me here! It's not fair! You've got to let me go!"

There was no answer.

Slowly Jason calmed down. There was no getting away from it, he was trapped here.

He looked round at all the games that filled the room. At least he wouldn't get bored for awhile. He sat down at the computer and loaded a game.

[Originally published in Kimota 12, Spring 2000.

NOVIE'S ARK.

by David O'Neill.

Novie knew it was time to retire when they were stopped by customs. They were old hands at the run, perhaps getting a little careless, but this was the first time they had had anything but a cursory once over. A particularly worrying consideration given the security sweep had occurred way before they even docked.

Once the security avatar had vanished and Novie was alone on the bridge of her s.h.i.+p, the "Forest", the s.h.i.+p reversed the mind-wipe, implanted memories were cleared and Novie's own reinstated. She dropped back into her chair swearing loudly, in good old-fas.h.i.+oned audio.

"f.u.c.k. Why the h.e.l.l did they do that?" She rubbed her temple, her head felt distinctly fuzzy. The Consensus took a dim view of pilots and s.h.i.+p's who were willing to muck around with their own minds like that.

"It could have been a random check..." the s.h.i.+p suggested.

"It's a bit of a coincidence though, isn't it," she said. "I mean, how many times have we done this run and had nothing more than a sweep on docking? That was the full works..." She looked thoughtfully out the window at the featureless s.p.a.ce beyond.

"It did seem excessive," the s.h.i.+p agreed. Novie nodded then straightened herself.

"We've got to get out of this, it's getting too dangerous."

"But what about the cash, it pays well..." the s.h.i.+p countered. She shrugged.

"Well enough for the pair of us to lose our wings?" All Novie had ever wanted to do was fly being grounded with nothing but the memories of being a pilot would be enough to end it all.

"Fair point," it replied. She closed her eyes and listened to the distant cl.u.s.ters of voices, feeling the glowing bundles of humanity close by; Jupiter system, a whirling collection of small points, ditto Saturn, Mars and the asteroids brighter, but s.h.i.+ning like a nova in the distance the collective mind of Earth s.p.a.ce. Real home. Much brighter and much more real for being close to and not the other end of a quantum communications fissure.

"I'm going to spend a few hours in the Consensus, I'll make the calls and resign. Take us home..."

Novie settled back into the chair, feeling her body drift away, linking into the human Consensus. Her last few trips were well out of normal s.p.a.ce and well away from transmitters with anything like the bandwidth necessary for full immersion. Most people were driven mad by the isolation, being trapped in their own heads with virtually no one to talk to.

It was this more than anything else which was killing s.p.a.ce travel.

Novie didn't mind it, but had to admit it was comforting to swirl effortlessly through s.p.a.ce joining the ever-present hum. An entrance lobby materialised around her and she opened her account, entering her personal works.p.a.ce. The room resembled an office from sometime in the industrial revolution. She had always liked the retro-look, and even knowing the room was full of anachronisms, she still loved it.

Outside the window, horse drawn carriages mingled with stuffily dressed Victorian businessmen. She sat at the red leather topped desk and checked her info-stacks. They were overflowing with notes and reminders from old friends. She detached a portion of her personality to check over them, whilst she made a couple of calls of her own.

Her employers were always hard to reach neither of her contacts existed inside the Consensus, relying instead on mail protocols almost as old as Information s.p.a.ce itself. She told them when she would arrive and that she wanted to see them and left the ball firmly in their court. She tried her family next, but seemingly there was a glitch in the communications lines and she couldn't find them. There was no listing of any deaths or accidents, so they had to be around somewhere. She worried for a moment, but decided that she would be home in a day and could let them know of the fault then she left a standard mail message. She was tempted to upload the latest news fax but decided it would be more fun to find out through asking around. She'd been away for months; another few hours wouldn't matter.

She re-integrated the mail sorter and found there were no particularly important messages, except a recent one from her family saying they were looking forward to her return and that the lines might be down when she returned, and not to worry. Well, that at least explained that, she thought.

Finally, she loaded her buddy list and skimmed the lists of her friends. She smiled - Vance was in port. Cancelling all the remaining procedures she dumped herself straight to his location.

He was in a bar off the main news service s.p.a.ces. She appeared in a displacement terminal in the adjoining hall, obviously she could have just appeared in the bar, but that, of course, was the ultimate in bad manners - or at least it had been before she left. Customs changed fast in here, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The bar was decked out in the manner of a late twentieth / early twenty-first century bar lounge, America. Booths and tables cluttered the interior, Vance himself sitting on a stool at the high chrome topped bar. She approached, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Buy a girl a drink sailor?" He jumped, his eyes focusing slowly he'd obviously been having a Share, it was something Novie herself had never had the knack for it was strange giving yourself into a group mind and sharing everything besides she had too many secrets. He snapped back into the bar and his face split into a huge grin, he'd grown a beard, but still looked roughly the same - not that it meant a thing in here, of course. He leapt down from his stool, picked her up and whirled her small body around.

"Novie!" He kissed her enthusiastically. She pulled away, grimacing.

"Ugh, Vance what is that on your face," she chided, part seriously, part playfully. He put her down, he stood at least a half metre taller, and stroked the beard.

"You don't like it?" he said eventually, sounding almost like a little boy, crestfallen. She put her hands on her hips looking up at him.

"I hate beards, you know that..." she winked.

"Oh, well, in that case," he clicked his fingers and the beard morphed back into his face, vanis.h.i.+ng. "Better?"

"Yes," she laughed. "I have a thing for clean shaven men..." she reached up on tiptoe to run her hand down the side of his face.

"And I for Asian women..." he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing her to collapse into a helpless fit of giggles. He tapped the end of her nose playfully and turned to the bar ordering more drinks.

"So?" he asked when they had calmed down enough to talk. "What have you been up to, I haven't seen you and that ancient s.h.i.+p of yours for ages..." She had a sub-protocol loaded for awkward questions which overrode her natural features ensuring she didn't give anything away sub-consciously.

"Nothing much, I've been out of the link for a while, delivering survey kits, almost too far for anything but old fas.h.i.+oned two-dee images." She took a sip of her drink, carefully maintaining her detachment. He shrugged.

"I didn't think we were still doing any surveys," he said quietly, looking distant for a moment. Novie felt a twinge of uncertainty but knew she was safe the survey cover story was carefully constructed by her employers and would hold true.

"Towards the Galactic core, and there's a station sending probes out to the Magalenic clouds..." Vance looked unimpressed. Strange she found herself thinking, he used be interested in this sort of thing.

"I don't know why they bother," he said distantly.

"You know," she said cheerfully, trying to move the conversation onwards. "New worlds, that sort of thing, for when the colonisation effort starts again..."

Vance rolled his eyes saying nothing. It was an awkward moment, then he smiled dazzlingly and cracked another of his ever-present stock of jokes and they carried on in a lighter vein. Eventually, after a few hours of gentle non-specific chit-chat, they were holding each other, kissing pa.s.sionately and deciding that the obvious next stage was to consummate their reunion with some good old fas.h.i.+oned s.e.x, or at least as old-fas.h.i.+oned as cybers.p.a.ce allowed.

Vance created a room for them, the walls appeared seemingly ten metres or so away, and then rose from the floor upwards. Any furniture or avatars closer than that were eye-wrenchingly removed as the part.i.tion moved upwards. The room remained white for an instant before turning into Vance's apartment on O'Neill 19, out at the L3 point. Novie cast a critical eye around.

"Don't you ever redecorate?" She crossed to the window; the apartment was set a little way up the slope of the end cap with a view the length of the entire habitat. Three stunning terraformed panels illuminated by opposing windows greeted her. Vance came up behind her.

"Does it matter?" he asked, she turned and they kissed tenderly.

A minute later they were on the bed, struggling to take off their clothes they could, of course, have willed them away in an instant, but that would have taken away a lot of the fun. They tussled and rolled for a while, exploring each other and getting used to themselves again, before Vance finally entered her. She gasped, it had been a long time, and sharing this with a real human partner other than the s.h.i.+p or a blue-sim was incredible. She lay back, her mind reeling, the feeling of closeness unbearably intense as they...

She locked her eyes onto his.

He was Sharing.

"What the f.u.c.k?" she demanded. The first traces of her o.r.g.a.s.m washed away as she shut down the pathways in her head. Vance gave a guilty shudder, falling to one side as she struggled out from under him. "How dare you!" She pulled herself into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, flicking her hair out of her face in a single motion.