MetaGame Read online

  MetaGame

  Sam Landstrom

  Sam Landstrom

  MetaGame

  CHAPTER 1

  Games within games, that’s all life is. And God is keeping score.

  — Minister A_Dude, archives, “From the Pulpit”

  Sitting in his shower bowl, D_Light slumped over and retched again. The pungent vomit turned light pink as it mixed with the EasyClean SaniRinse™ and then disappeared down the drain. His body trembled, and his tears were swept away. Crying and vomiting, he muttered, “OverSoul, please help me.”

  He was ashamed before the words had even escaped him. It was not as if the OverSoul-the creative intelligence that guided the billions of beings of this planet and others-had the time or inclination to bother with the pitiful pleas of one insignificant baby blubbering in his shower. But he had lost his perspective. Despite the hot, viscous, exfoliating, bacteria-laden water pounding down on him, he was trembling uncontrollably. This was unprecedented. Maybe he was having a reaction to one of the drugs in his system. Perhaps he was dying. A voice in his head told him he was not.

  Master, your vitals differ from your personal history, but they are well within the normal parameters of your species. According to all available data, you are in no danger of termination at this time. The soothing voice of his familiar pressed gently into his mind. Master, would you like me to give you a downer?

  D_Light’s familiar, a jet-black cat named Smorgeous, sat quietly next to the shower, his eyes fixed impassively on his human master. Like any good servant, he worked tirelessly to anticipate his master’s needs. Mountain Sunset is on sale, 343 points per dose. You have been using 11.3 doses of this drug per month. Averaged over the last six months-

  Smorgeous, not now! Just be quiet! D_Light sent the message back without a word. A gentle ping echoed in his mind, indicating that Smorgeous understood and would not initiate communication with his master unless an emergency transpired.

  Familiars were able to read and write to their masters’ minds, and although this was designed to be useful, it was sometimes irritating to D_Light, especially when he desired silence. Unfortunately, D_Light had had the interface kit installed in his brainstem fairly late in life, making it difficult for the telepathic input from his familiar to mesh naturally with his own thoughts. This was in sharp contrast to people he knew who had received their kits at birth. For them, the voice of their familiar was a part of them, essentially an extension of their consciousness. But there was nothing natural about how D_Light perceived his familiar. To him, Smorgeous still felt like an alien entity living inside his head-an alien who tended to invade his private space. This was particularly bothersome when D_Light just wanted to be alone, like now.

  D_Light attempted to quiet his mind by going into a relaxation trance, concentrating on the rhythm of his breathing and the sensation and sound of the shower as it pulsed over him. One, relax…two, relax…three, relax… Like a slow drumbeat, he recited the mantra. It was a simple and effective way to unwind without a drug boost, a technique he had learned long before his familiar implant. Although maintenance drugs were almost always in a player’s system, spiking a drug to get a desired effect, called boosting, could lead to a violation of his health contract if done in an abusive pattern. Lately, he had been taking too many of these drugs, and although Smorgeous had not yet warned him of any contract violations, D_Light felt it would be wise to lay off for the next couple of days.

  D_Light began rocking back and forth as he sat huddled and naked in the shower bowl. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” The hiss of the shower took his words and drowned them.

  It took several minutes of this routine before D_Light was able to calm himself to some degree, at which point his nausea subsided. Only then did he attempt to fix this emotional hitch in his mind-not that all feelings were to be avoided. Anger, fear, even jealousy could embolden the human spirit when it needed a kick or could instill a healthy measure of prudence when warranted. However, D_Light suspected that not all emotions were of equal utility. As best he could tell, the emotion he felt now was remorse. Remorse. How could he have remorse for making a bold and excellent move in accordance with the Game? There was little room for remorse on the path to immortality, and unjustifiable remorse was surely useless. Worse than useless, it was detrimental.

  Of course, this was not the first time D_Light had experienced a disadvantageous emotion, and his favorite way of dealing with them was also the most expedient-good old-fashioned suppression. D_Light liked to imagine taking a big iron box, putting the emotion inside it, and then sealing that box in another one. He would repeat this process as necessary. He had used this mental trick many times, but it was not working now. It was as though the negative feelings were wisps of dark, incorporeal threads that escaped out through the seams.

  Suppression not an option, D_Light decided to try some simple desensitization exercises. This required more time and was more painful than his box technique, but it tended to be more reliable. He began by picturing the corpse in his mind. The girl’s eyes came to him first. Her eyes-eyes that had been arresting in life-were merely large glistening marbles in death, vacant and swiveled downward at the floor. He held the memory for a few long moments, inhaling a few slow, deep breaths. He then silently called upon Smorgeous to execute a gradual uploading of the entire corpse into his consciousness. He wanted to see her in detail.

  At first he studied her with great unease. Her jet-black hair was glistening, sticky and matted with coagulating blood. The good side of her face-the side not mangled-was facing up, and the perfect lines and arcs of her face made up an olive-colored stone mask. Next, the image panned out, allowing D_Light to see the scene in its entirety. There was a lot of blood-blood on the face, neck, and pooling out across the stone floor. He focused in on her lifeless hand until the entire image blurred. Slowly, he felt the dark threads slackening as the grisly image became less painful to him, and by the time he finally dismissed the archive, he did so with only the slightest tinge of relief.

  Out of the shower, D_Light picked out a lightweight skinsuit, the lightest one he had. It was summer, after all, and he hoped to get outside today and feel the sun. The selected skinsuit was stark white, and it shimmered slightly from the countless microlenses that were embedded in the fabric. Since he was going to a church service this morning, he mentally asked Smorgeous to upload something a bit more formal than one of his common selections. Okay, Smorgeous, we can talk again. I’ll wear the suit from, um, from the play I saw the other day.

  D_Light’s recollection of that particular memory was enough for Smorgeous to determine which suit his master had requested. Yes, master, the familiar replied. The suit model Divine Fate costs 630 points per use.

  The specifications were uploaded to D_Light’s skinsuit, and the optical lenses immediately rendered the blue slacks, shirt, and sport coat, all of which hung on his body perfectly, as only an illusion could. Looking himself over in the mirror, D_Light wished he could also change his hair. It was getting long and unwieldy, a blight on an otherwise strikingly handsome man. However, that sort of change was out of the question. Changing one’s natural appearance using holograms-even just the style of one’s hair or the hue of one’s skin-was a transgression.

  He took a long minute and studied himself carefully in the mirror. Not a blemish or wrinkle on his face. He, like everyone he knew, was locked into the same body he had attained in his early twenties. He was so young-only fifty-four years-and yet he did not feel like it this morning. He did not want to go to church. There would be a lot of attention, mostly positive he imagined, but he still did not relish the thought. And yet, it would be a good thing to get out of this room. A very good thing. Involuntarily, he looked over at the floor near his chamber do
or. He felt his stomach lurch slightly, thinking he could make out a faint bloodstain. Naw, can’t be. The cleaning bots don’t leave anything behind, he thought. Still, he made a point to avert his gaze as he opened the front door to leave. If there was a stain, real or imagined, he wanted to miss it.

  D_Light stepped out of his chamber into the castle hallway. As D_Light punched into the general house skin, images of the girl were washed away from his mind by the swirl of images at his feet-visuals skinning every conceivable surface. Even the floor displayed text messages and static pics of people he knew, places he wanted to be, and products he liked. The walls and ceiling featured a variety of video feeds, but the floor did not. D_Light’s skin settings prohibited video on the floor. He found it disorienting, as moving images on the ground incited vertigo. This was doubly true for him when on peps.

  “Morning breath?” The voice came from beside him. A man, looking far too much like his bio-father to be coincidence, smiled broadly at him. The semitransparent, tenderly smiling man waited to see if D_Light showed interest and then shifted naturally backward down the hallway as D_Light ignored him and advanced.

  “Remember when Icy_B gagged and nearly threw up in her mouth when she kissed you?” Although that incident happened many years ago, the avatar did not need to elaborate. D_Light remembered.

  His bio-father, rendered as true as life by the skin software, winked at him and asked, “How’s the breath this morning?” It did not wait for an answer because only a nOOb talked back to advertisements. “Too busy owning the Game to rinse? Get a booster of FlavaPhage™ today! Just one boost a month and-” D_Light shifted his attention away from the ad, which automatically cut off the auditory feed.

  As he continued walking, he scanned the walls for something interesting. Burger_Fling™ reminded him that he had accumulated enough “Customer Love” points to get a free TerriBurger™ with his next visit. The Divine Authority suggested he visit a reproduction representative to see about a progeny permit. Saucy_Dice, a girl he perved a few weeks back, had posted yet another message for him. Saucy’s freckled face grinned at him mischievously. “What’s new, D? Give me a blink when you get a wink.” D_Light rolled his eyes. No doubt the skin software, called SkinWare, thought the message from Saucy and the message about getting a reproduction permit were related, which is why the messages were displayed near one another. As if D_Light would repro with a girl with freckles! D_Light frowned down at Smorgeous, who strode beside him, and sent, Smorgeous, I’m not interested in perving with Saucy ever again, much less having a child with her.

  Smorgeous pinged confirmation. The familiar should have known better, D_Light thought. D_Light had no patience for poor message targeting. D_Light then thought about a fragment of a church hymn that he really liked: “To be a top player, optimize your input.” In response to that thought, the SkinWare finally gave him something useful. Huge 3-D letters appeared on the ceiling above him:

  House Tesla Top Scorers in the Last Twenty-four Hours:

  1. D_Light

  2. Beensa Sardanaha

  3. Speedy_LeeA

  4. Down_to_ChinaTown

  5. GloverAce

  6. Mona_Love

  Irritated, D_Light wondered why this wasn’t the first thing he saw when he punched into the skin. Not that he obsessively monitored the house ranking, but he was currently number one!

  Master, the score tally was published 4.1 seconds ago. Smorgeous answered the question before D_Light even thought to ask it.

  Under normal circumstances, D_Light would have basked in his glory. He would have just stood there on the stairway and smiled to himself. After all, there were over eight thousand members in his family, and he had won the day. Of course, his top position must be from a projected score, as the points from his win the night before had not officially been transferred. The points would be official soon enough, that is, after the ritual.

  The cathedral was immense, inspiring, beautiful. Such splendor was not wasted here, for this was a place of renewal, a place that exuded zest for the Game. The walls arched, curving in to meet at the center of the sprawling ceiling. The dome was supported by huge pillars that were garnished to look like towering trees, complete with fine stone branches and ornate leaves of every shape and size. The sunlight of the summer morning filtered through large stained glass windows, creating the effect of a magical forest.

  D_Light, perched high above on a branch of a faux tree, watched over the pews below. This was not meant to be a viewing point (stone leaves obscured much of his view), but it was private, allowing D_Light to observe the congregation unnoticed.

  At the front of the congregation, Minister A_Dude was leading morning prayer. The music was just starting to crank. A morning service always started in this way. The music, which made up the backdrop of the service, always built up gradually. This provided routine for service members and a sense of anticipation. A thundering bass track was throbbing with a thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, which looped over and over. A female voice track glided over the bass, almost too softly to hear, but was building in volume. “Welcome, OverSoul…wel…wel…welcome, OverSoul…wel…wel…welcome to our feast.” This track also looped, but the warp of the voice varied with each iteration.

  The congregation consisted of people in a wide array of attire, accompanied by their equally diverse animal-styled familiars. Through the chiseled leaves, D_Light could see LuckyB. The woman boasted a tall hat-impossibly tall-and a huge, splaying dress of fluorescent green; she bobbed and swayed toward the front with the greatest confidence. Luck loved to dance. Her familiar was styled as a baby leopard with unrealistically large blue saucers for eyes, making it permanently adorable. The leopard was up on its haunches, bobbing along with its master, mimicking her every move. If D_Light didn’t know better, he would have thought it was mocking her, but familiars were designed to be in sync with their masters, so this was expected behavior. D_Light had always admired Luck’s carefree attitude. She didn’t give a clip about anything or what anyone thought. With any luck, one day the two of them would get hooked up by MatchMaker™.

  D_Light’s three favorite siblings were stationed toward the back in their usual spots. TermaMix, C, and K_Slice were swaying to the music in their routine, repetitive, and unimaginative manner. Of the three, K_Slice was the best dancer, but that was no surprise since she was a girl. Still, she didn’t hold a candle to most of her gender, especially not to a girl like LuckyB. K_Slice had a linear and inhibited mind, so while she might be technically good at performing dance moves, she had no style of her own. TermaMix and C, both geek males, simply had no style.

  The mere thought of abandoning his perch was agonizing, but they were all expecting him. It would be an insult to the congregation not to show, for it was customary for the fragger to bear testimony for his deed. He had delayed too long as it was. A few noticed him as he descended the sharp-angled stairs of the long dais that led down to the congregation floor. He kept his head high and his chest puffed out, perhaps a bit too much. Word spread silently through the familiars, and soon all eyes-robotic and human alike-were on him.

  “At last, our man!” shouted the unthinkably rotund minister, who grinned widely and laughed with a rumble.

  K_Slice immediately sprinted up and sprang on D_Light like a windup toy, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly. Having lost his footing, D_Light staggered a bit, but fortunately his old friend was a lightweight. “Alive and still walking!” she shouted, pressing her cheek against his.

  The pulse of the beat quickened. The ritual was beginning. K_Slice unlatched herself and splayed out her arms, palms pointing toward D_Light. She waved them back and forth. Her torso bowed, and her hips gyrated in sync with the beat.

  “Deeeelight!” the minister boomed. “Show us your hands!”

  D_Light put his palms up and began swaying back and forth in rhythm. He knew he needed to look natural, to feel the beat, but the music was not suffusing him and he felt stiff. He n
eeded to show strength. Oh, how he wished he had hit an enhancer before coming down here. To hell with his healthcare contract! He needed to be up at times like this. In response to his wish, Smorgeous sent out the required electromagnetic signal that unlocked the nanocontainers in his bloodstream. Still, it would be several seconds before D_Light would feel the effects of the drug.

  No one seemed to notice his discomfort as the congregation cheered and closed in. There were hands, chests, and shoulders all pressed around him now. In unison, they swept back and forth, falling down and pulling away like giant breakers massaging a beach. As they moved back, D_Light had room to dance, which he now did with wild abandon. The pep administered by his familiar had taken effect, and he felt the blood rushing everywhere it needed to go.

  “Yes, to play the Game well is divine,” A_Dude intoned with a throaty growl. The minister was dancing as well, but his skipping back and forth across the stage more closely resembled a pacing bear crossed with a crazed monkey than actual dancing.

  “And today, right now, Deeeelight is fine!” the minister bellowed. His words were perfectly timed with a frenzied blast from the AI-composed music.

  The congregation had been waiting for the moment to uptick the intensity of their celebration. More impassioned cheering ensued. The flock pressed tightly into a circle that enveloped D_Light so closely that few had the room to dance anymore. In their confinement, motions became upward and downward bobs or, for the more energetic, high jumping. D_Light heard the slithering sound of his skinsuit’s optic lenses running up against the lenses of other suits. An outrageous feathered boa draped around the neck of a nearby dancer swung realistically into D_Light’s face, momentarily blinding him with the color pink, but being only a hologram, it passed right through him.