Chương 85: Chapter 82: George’s Run (XIII)

George broke the surface of the memory and saw that his hands were upraised just like they had been in the memory as he was pounding on the transparent barrier. >>Last one, boss. I think we are about to see how you entered the game. George triggered the memory without saying anything. Memory Seven: The Day We Met The memory began in the prison cubes again. George was lying on the floor. Kat was gone. She had been taken the day after Max had gone through the gate.

There had been another person in her cell a few days later, but she was also gone now. By his count it had been four weeks since they'd taken Max, though he couldn't be sure. There were a few new prisoners in the room. Occasionally, the guards came in and brought new people in or took people out, but they left George alone except to feed him. When he tried to communicate with them, they would not respond—even when he asked to be taken to the gate. He asked the others how they had arrived.

Most had been taken by raiding gangs. Others had wandered through the barrier or been chased across it. One woman, her hair burned away and her skin covered in raw red patches, said she had been attacked by some kind of flying creature and trapped in its gullet. She had spent hours inside it before it spat her out here, where the guards brought her to the cell. Over the next few days, George pieced together how the place worked. There was a group in charge.

Every so often they offered one of the prisoners a place among them. The next time George saw one of those men, he was wearing a guard's uniform. The guards had strange abilities and technology George had never seen before. They made deals, traded people for favors, raided across the barrier, and treated human beings like a resource to be harvested. Even the guards who went out on capture teams had to come back. If they stayed away too long, it seemed that bad things started to happen to them.

So they had built a system to keep themselves alive. They fed other people to the gate instead. George didn't know why the guards had been ignoring him, but that ended one day when they gathered outside his cell. He was so used to them coming for other prisoners that he barely noticed them until one of the guards raised a strange stylus and drew a door into the wall of his cell. He stood up from where he'd been leaning against the wall and one of the guards simply said, "Let's go."

He followed them out of the warehouse where the prison cells were located. As they stepped outside, the brightness forced him to shield his eyes. Then came the smell of the surrounding woods and the sound of the wind moving through the leaves. He hadn't realized how accustomed he'd become to the fetid air of the prison. He stopped walking, closed his eyes, and lifted his face toward the warmth of the sun. He breathed deeply and smiled for the first time in weeks. He couldn't help it. The air smelled so good.

A guard shoved him between the shoulder blades, and George started walking again. They led him to another building, giving him his first real look at the prison from the outside. It wasn't just a prison. It was an entire community hidden in the woods. There were homes, people going about their lives, vehicles. Two women laughed as they carried something between them while a child wandered along behind. Then George stopped again.

A massive beast lumbered past, pulling a sleigh piled high with what looked like construction materials. It looked like a cross between an ox and a triceratops. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but another shove from behind sent him stumbling forward.

"Keep moving," one of the guards said. They led him to a metallic set of doors standing alone in the middle of a patch of dirt, attached to nothing at all. The doors split apart with a soft mechanical hum, sliding away from each other like an elevator. George blinked. That was exactly what it was. An elevator. Except it wasn't attached to a building. Inside was a small room lined with brilliant chrome. The floor, walls, and ceiling gleamed like polished mirrors, sending his own reflection back to him.

George leaned to one side. The room visible through the doorway definitely did not exist behind the doors. It existed only through them.

"What is this?" George asked.

"Is this the gate?"

"No," one of the guards said. Then there was another one of those pushes. This one was much harder and sent him into the chrome elevator, falling to his knees. He stood up and spun around, but by the time he picked himself up the doors were already closing. As soon as the doors closed, the elevator began to descend. It kept going far longer than any elevator George had ever ridden. When it finally came to a stop, the doors slid open. Beyond them stretched a vast circular chamber.

The only light came from a single shaft overhead, illuminating the center of the room. Everything beyond that pool of light disappeared into shadow. The chamber was so large that George couldn't even make out where the walls met the floor. He stepped out of the elevator. The doors slid shut behind him. When he glanced back a moment later, they were gone—as if they had never been there at all. There was a pit beneath the shaft of light at the center of the room.

As George approached, he realized it wasn't a simple hole. The floor itself curved smoothly downward toward it, sloping inward from every direction, as though the room had begun to sag—or as if space itself were bending into the darkness below. I WOULDN'T GET TOO CLOSE TO THAT IF I WERE YOU. The voice came from everywhere, from the air itself. George spun around, searching the darkness, but saw no one. Then he heard a soft metallic sound behind him, like footsteps made with metal boots.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It had the height and shape of a man but appeared to be made entirely of chrome. For a moment George thought it was some kind of robot, but there were no seams, no joints, no plates. It stopped about ten feet away from him, and the voice came again. WELCOME, GEORGE. I'M AFRAID I HAVE BEEN A POOR HOST, LETTING YOU SIT IN THAT CELL FOR SO LONG, BUT CERTAIN FACTORS WERE NOT QUITE READY YET FOR US TO MEET.

Though the figure had no mouth, and the voice still came from every direction around George, the chrome figure tipped its head and made gestures like it was speaking.

"Who are you?" George asked, but before the chrome man could answer, George answered his own question.

"You are the one that runs this place. The one they talk about." The figure made a bow with his hands extended to his sides with a flourish.

"Then… what are you?" George studied the way the being's skin looked like metal but moved like flesh. THAT IS A LONG STORY, GEORGE. PERHAPS IT WOULD BE MOST EXPEDIENT IF YOU SIMPLY THOUGHT OF ME AS A GOD. George stared at it for a moment.

"What did you do with my children?" I GAVE THEM AN OPPORTUNITY TO IMPROVE THEMSELVES. THE SAME OPPORTUNITY I AM PREPARED TO OFFER YOU.

"What does that mean? Are they safe?" HMM.

"SAFE" WOULD BE AN… OVERSTATEMENT. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. George took a step toward the figure.

"Where are they?" LET'S NOT GET AHEAD OF OURSELVES, GEORGE. I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS CONVERSATION. TAKE A SEAT. He waved his hand and two chairs appeared in the previously empty room. They were as mirror bright as the chrome man was. The figure sat down and gestured for George to do the same. George remained standing for a moment. USUALLY NEW PLAYERS NEGOTIATE WITH MY ASSISTANT BUT I HAVE TAKEN A PERSONAL INTEREST IN YOU. I WANT TO MAKE SURE YOU GET THE BEST TREATMENT.

George sat in the chair and tried not to think about how it had simply appeared from nothing. I KNOW YOU ARE FULL OF QUESTIONS, AND I WILL ANSWER SOME OF THEM BUT NOT ALL OF THEM. The chrome man crossed his legs and rested both his hands on his knees like they were just having a friendly chat. BUT FIRST… HAVE YOU FIGURED OUT THAT WAS ME ON THE RADIO? PRETTY FAIR IMITATION OF YOUR KIDDOS, I THOUGHT. George was not sure how to respond. The chrome man was smiling.

The statement was given in a playful tone but its content was horrifying. SORRY FOR THE RUSE, BUT IT WASN'T LIKE I COULD TELL THE TRUTH.

"GEORGE, I HAVE YOUR CHILDREN AND WE'RE ALL GOING TO PLAY A LITTLE GAME TOGETHER. WE WANT YOU TO COME PLAY, TOO… AND BESIDES, IF YOU DON'T COME, I'LL KILL THEM." NO, THAT WOULDN'T HAVE WORKED AT ALL. YOU WOULD HAVE BELIEVED ALL THE WRONG THINGS. AND THAT SWEET MOMENT WHEN YOU WALKED THROUGH THE BARRIER WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN SUCH A TWIST. I THINK OF MYSELF AS A PATRON OF THE ARTS, GEORGE. A DESIGNER OF STORIES. AND I HAVE GONE TO GREAT LENGTHS TO ARRANGE A STORY FOR YOU, MY FRIEND.

WHEN I FOUND KIT, I JUST HAD TO HAVE ALL THE BRANDISSES. NOW, ALL THE PIECES ARE IN PLACE. WE JUST NEED THE MAIN CHARACTER. PICTURE IT… A BROKEN FATHER MUST TRAVEL TO ANOTHER WORLD TO PROTECT HIS ESTRANGED CHILDREN. HIS LAST CHANCE TO SAVE THEM... AND, PERHAPS... TO SAVE HIMSELF. George's body felt numb but his mind was racing. Kit was alive. This creature knew where his children were. The chrome man reached out and gently put his hand on George's knee. IT'S GOING TO BE OK, GEORGE. STORIES NEED HEROES.

AND HEROES NEED VILLAINS. AND VILLAINS NEED VICTIMS. SO I NEEDED YOU AND YOUR CHILDREN. He gave George's knee a friendly pat. JUST THINK OF IT. LIVES END EVERY DAY, BUT STORIES CAN LIVE FOREVER. THAT IS WHAT I'M OFFERING YOU. The chrome man smiled. DO YOU WANT TO SEE THEM? YOUR KIDS, I MEAN? I CAN SHOW THEM TO YOU? George said yes. It came out as a whisper. The chrome man waved a hand again. Three portals opened in the air beside them, each no larger than a window.

Suddenly George's children were only an arm's length away. George reached toward the nearest portal without thinking. I WOULDN'T. George stopped his hand. THAT IS WHAT IS HAPPENING TO EACH OF YOUR KIDS AT THIS VERY MOMENT. George stared at the portals, his eyes bouncing from one to the other. Max was running across a narrow stone bridge arcing over a wide canyon. Rain lashed at him, and the heavy backpack on his shoulders bounced with every stride, threatening to throw him off balance.

Behind him followed a creature out of nightmares. It looked a horse with no head but with horns and spikes jutting out of every other part of its body. Kat shuffled forward with a chain around her neck, linked to half a dozen other women. The sun beat down on an endless waste of red sand. Kat stumbled, caught herself, and kept walking without looking up. Wind blew strands of hair across her face, but her hands were chained to her waist and she couldn't brush them away.

Kit lay curled beneath a blue blanket covered with white stars. He lay on a stone floor in a darkened room. At first George thought he was asleep. Then he saw his shoulders trembling. And there was the scar beneath Kit's eye. When George saw it, he felt the same pang of grief and guilt that he always felt. They all looked older than they should have been.

"What are you doing to them?" George wanted to reach out to them through the portal again but he held himself still. OH, I ASSURE YOU THAT THEIR CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES ARE ENTIRELY OF THEIR OWN MAKING. ISN'T THAT THE WAY WITH CHILDREN? YOU TRY TO RAISE THEM RIGHT AND THEN THEY HAVE TO GO MAKE ALL OF THEIR OWN MISTAKES. The chrome man shrugged as if to say " what can you do?"" Help them." NO, I DON'T THINK I WILL. WHY DON'T YOU GO HELP THEM?

"You bastard." George didn't remember standing. One moment he was in the chair. The next he was towering over the chrome man with his fists clenched. The chrome man slowly stood up and George saw how much taller he was than George. WATCH THAT ANGER. IT MIGHT GET YOU INTO TROUBLE. BESIDES, IS YOUR ANGER… CORRECTLY AIMED? He raised his silver finger and poked George in the chest. I TOOK YOUR CHILDREN, BUT YOU HAD ALREADY LOST THEM. I HAVEN'T DESTROYED YOUR FAMILY, GEORGE. YOU DID THAT.

"What the hell do you know about my life?" George shouted. MORE THAN YOU DO, I'M AFRAID. The chrome man frowned. YOU WERE HARDLY THERE FOR YOUR CHILDREN'S CHILDHOOD AND THEY DIDN'T WANT YOU AROUND FOR THEIR ADULTHOOD. NO, GEORGE, YOU FAILED THEM. BUT I PROTECTED THEM—AND YOU. I BROUGHT YOU TOGETHER AGAIN. I HAVE GIVEN THEM POWERS. AND… NOW I AM GOING TO SEND THEIR FATHER TO PROTECT AND SAVE THEM. AS HE ALWAYS SHOULD HAVE DONE.

The strange being put his hand around George's shoulder and guided him back to his seat, pushing him down into it.

"They all look older," George said softly.

"Why are they older?" TIME MOVES DIFFERENTLY WHERE THEY ARE. THAT IS WHY I NEEDED TO KEEP YOU IN THAT CELL FOR A WHILE. BUT THEIR STORIES ARE RIPE NOW AND IT IS TIME FOR YOURS TO BEGIN. OR, SHOULD I SAY BEGIN ANEW…? He rubbed his hands together and smiled, resuming his own seat. SO LET US BEGIN THE NEGOTIATIONS PROPER. AS I SAID, MY ASSISTANT, JOHNNY, USUALLY HANDLES THIS PART OF THE PROCEEDINGS, BUT I SHALL MANAGE AS ABLY AS I CAN.

IT IS CUSTOMARY FOR NEW PLAYERS TO ENGAGE IN A BIT OF BARTERING TO ARRANGE A MORE FAVORABLE STARTING POSITION WHEN THEIR GAME BEGINS. THAT IS WHAT THOSE FOOLS OUTSIDE ARE TRYING TO DO. He waved at the village on the surface. THEY ARE COLLECTING PEOPLE FOR ME SO THEY CAN HAVE AN ADVANTAGE WHEN THEIR TIME COMES. He shrugged. IT IS AN ARRANGEMENT THAT WORKS FOR THE TIME BEING. George touched his empty pockets.

"I have nothing to trade." He had not seen his backpack since he came through the barrier. NO ONE HAS NOTHING. THAT IS THE THING I FIND THE MOST SAD ABOUT YOUR SPECIES. AS SOON AS YOU HAVE SOMETHING, IT IS AS THOUGH YOU DIDN'T HAVE IT. YOU COME TO ME EMPTY HANDED AND IN RAGS AND YET… YOU STILL HAVE SO MUCH! YOU CAN WALK. YOU CAN TALK. YOU HAVE TWO HANDS. YOU HAVE TALENTS, REGRETS, HOPES. YOU HAVE EARS AND EYES.

"You want me to trade my eyes?" George blinked. The chrome man laughed. OF COURSE NOT. NOTHING SO CRASS. YET… WE MUST FIND A FITTING TRADE FOR YOUR GAME TO BEGIN. He snapped as if he just had an idea. I HAVE IT! I AM OFFERING YOU A NEW LIFE, IN A SENSE. A CHANCE TO BECOME A NEW PERSON IN A NEW WORLD. A CHANCE TO CHANGE YOUR STORY. WHY DON'T WE GO THE WHOLE WAY? IN EXCHANGE FOR A NEW LIFE… YOU'LL GIVE ME YOUR OLD ONE. I MUST WARN YOU. YOUR CURRENT LIFE… LACKS IN MARKET VALUE.

WHEN YOUR GAME BEGINS, YOU WILL HAVE SOME DISADVANTAGES, BUT THAT CAN'T BE AVOIDED.

"I don't understand." OF COURSE YOU DON'T. BUT YOU HAVE TO ASK YOURSELF IF THAT REALLY MATTERS. THERE ARE ONLY TWO WAYS OUT OF THIS ROOM. ONE IS THROUGH THE PORTAL. He nodded to the pit at the center of the room. AND THE OTHER IS BACK TO THE PRISON, ONLY THIS TIME… WITHOUT FOOD. The chrome man held out his hand to shake. WHAT DO YOU SAY? DO WE HAVE A DEAL? George stared at the chrome hand extended toward him.

"What is it like?" George said. The metallic face smiled before answering. IT IS A GREAT STORY. OTHER THAN THAT, MY LIPS ARE SEALED. He mimed zipping his lips with his other hand. IS THERE REALLY A CHOICE, GEORGE? YOU SAW WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THEM. THEY NEED THEIR FATHER. GO SAVE THEM. George reached out and grasped the being's hand. The instant their hands met, agony exploded through George's arm. It felt like the metal hand had just come out of the forge.

George fell to his knees and tried to pull his hand free but the chrome man clamped down and wouldn't let go. George felt like his hand was being crushed at the same time it was being burned. The chrome man held his grip for a few more seconds and then released George's hand and he fell to the floor, screaming. He couldn't move the wounded hand. He looked down. The flesh across his palm had blistered and peeled away, exposing raw red muscle beneath.

The chrome man squatted down and laid one arm across George's shoulder. THERE, THERE. EASY DOES IT. And then, strangely, his hand began to go numb. The wound didn't heal, but it was like someone was turning the volume on the screaming pain. George looked back up at the chrome man. SEE? NOT SO BAD. Then the forgetting began. Memories surfaced in his mind one after another and then burst like bubbles, leaving no trace of themselves. Jane smiled at him across the dinner table.

He reached for the memory but it burst apart before he could remember what they were eating or place it in time. Max rode his shoulders at the zoo, laughing and pointing at the monkeys. Kat collapsed into his arms when she cut her knee and he picked her up and carried her inside to the first aid kit. He held the infant Kit against his chest and watched his eyelids grow heavy with sleep. Then the chrome man pulled him to his feet. OK. LET'S GO. But George couldn't remember where he was supposed to go.

He could feel his memories dissolving faster than he could call them to mind and hold onto them. It wasn't only the memories, but the connections between them that were disappearing. He could remember a dinner table, but he was alone at it. There was a zoo, but it was empty, not even animals occupied the memory with him. He recited their names. Kit. Kat. Max. Don't forget. Kit. Kat. Max. The other person guided George toward a deep hole in the ground, keeping one hand lightly between George's shoulder blades.

Something inside George was trying to tell him to be afraid, to run—but George couldn't remember why. Kit. Kat. He was sure there was another. THERE WE GO. ONE STEP AT A TIME. Kit. Kat. Kit. George was crying but that was only another thing he didn't understand. The pit yawned in front of him. He stood at the edge and looked down. There was nothing in it. Only darkness. Then the chrome man pushed George from behind. He didn't even scream as he fell. The memory ended.