Cradle (26 page)

The transmission stopped suddenly and the picture was gone. The screen again showed
a picture of the inside of Nick’s cabin on board the space station. Nick resisted
an impulse to applaud and sat without moving. Somehow Troy had made Julianne into
a very believable Princess Heather.
But how did my name get into the script?
he wondered. He wanted to ask questions but a warning message flashed on the giant
screen, indicating that time was passing and the adventurer was not taking any action.
Nick found the X key and the digital clock on the screen stopped. He turned to Troy.
‘So what do I do now?’

With Troy’s occasional help, Nick equipped himself for a journey, found his way to
the spaceport, and climbed in a small shuttle craft. Despite Troy’s hints that his
chances for survival in open space were small unless he spent more time examining
the other facilities on the space station, Nick blasted off anyway. It was great fun.
He used the commands on the keyboard to control his speed and direction. What he saw
on the screen was perfectly matched with his commands, giving him the illusion that
he was actually flying a vehicle through space. He saw many other vehicles on the
monitor as he manoeuvred toward his target, a planet named Gunna, but none of them
approached his shuttle. Just outside the Gunna sphere of influence, however, a needle-nosed
craft approached him quickly and then, without warning, blasted him with a battery
of missiles. Nick was unable to escape. The screen filled with fire from the explosion
that ripped through his shuttle. Then the monitor went blank and black except for
the simple message,
Game Over
, in white letters in the middle of the screen.

‘Time for another beer?’ Nick asked, surprised to discover that he was actually disappointed
by the death of his character.

‘Right on, Captain,’ Troy replied.

They walked into the kitchen together. Troy opened the refrigerator and pulled out
two more beers. He handed one to Nick. The professor was still absorbed in thinking
about the game. ‘If I remember correctly, there were four sections marked on the map
of the space station,’ Nick said aloud. ‘And I only went in two of them. Would you
mind telling me about the other two sections?’

‘You missed the cafeteria and the library,’ Troy said, delighted that Nick was still
interested. ‘The cafeteria is not all that important,’ he laughed, ‘although I’ve
never known you to go anywhere before without eating first. But the library—’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Nick said, interrupting him. ‘Let me figure it out. In the library
I can learn about willens and the Otheners, or whatever they’re called, who can live
forever and what exactly is a Viceroy of Toom.’ He shook his head. ‘My, my, Troy.
I must say that I am more than a little impressed. I have no idea how anyone could
create something like this. And I’ve a feeling that I’ve just scratched the surface.’

‘I take it you’re ready to continue, Professor?’ Troy replied, acknowledging the praise
with a huge grin. ‘One piece of advice. While you’re in the library, look in the
Encyclopedia of Space Vehicles
so you can at least tell a hostile ship when it appears. Otherwise you’re never going
to reach the exciting parts of the game.’

The afternoon passed quickly. Nick found that escape into the imaginative world of
Troy’s game was magnificently relaxing, just the tonic that he needed after the morning
memories of Monique. Troy knew that Nick was enjoying the playing and he was thrilled.
He felt a surge of creative pride, and his belief that
Alien Adventure
would be his ticket to success was reborn.

In his vain search for Princess Heather, Nick died a couple more times. Once, when
he landed on the unmanned planet Thenia, a black man with a lizard head approached
him and told him to leave, that there was nothing but trouble on Thenia. Nick ignored
the warning and moved away from his shuttle in a land rover. He narrowly escaped a
volcanic eruption only to be trapped and eaten by a gigantic slime mould that oozed
out of the ground in the vicinity of his shuttle landing site.

In another reincarnation Nick encountered Samantha, Princess Heather’s sister, played
for a couple of scenes by Julianne’s buxom friend Corinne. Actually, Troy had made
Corinne up to look like Susie Q, the famous porn queen of the early nineties, and
most of the actual pictures that appeared on the game screen were taken from her ribald
classic,
Pleasure Until Pain
. Deft interleaving of new footage with the borrowed shots gave the illusion of being
in the film with Susie Q while she offered sexual delights beyond refusal.

Samantha alias Susie Q alias Corinne seduced Nick and then stabbed him to death with
a small dagger while he was lying naked and expectant on the bed. By this point the
two men were drinking their final six-pack of beer and the combination of the pornographic
scenes and the alcohol had made their conversation coarse and degenerate. ‘Shit,’
exclaimed Nick, entreating Troy to replay the scene where a naked Samantha/Susie Q
comes up to the camera to take his erect penis in her mouth. ‘I have never, no never,
even heard of a computer game where you almost get a blow job. Man, you are twisted.
A genius, yes, I’ll agree. But absolutely fucking twisted. What on God’s earth induced
you to put sex scenes in this game?’

‘Hey man,’ Troy laughed putting his arm around Nick as they half-staggered into the
living room, ‘the name of the game is sales. And right here, in
Entertainment Software
,’ (he picked up a magazine from the table) ‘it says that seventy-two percent, seventy-two
fucking percent, my friend, of all the people who buy computer games are 16- to 24-year-old
males. And do you know what that group likes
in addition to
computer games and science fiction?
Sex
, my man. Can’t you just see some teenage nerd retreating into his room to play this
game and whack off?
Eeee Yaaa
!’ Troy fell down on one of the easy chairs and beat his chest.

‘You’re crazy, Jefferson,’ Nick said, watching Troy’s display. ‘I don’t know if I
can ever again be alone with you on a boat. You are a certified nut case. I mean,
just imagine the reviews.
Alien Adventure
features an encounter with Susie Q, the queen of pornography, in an underground castle
on the asteroid Vitt. Which reminds me, how in the world did you get all those movie
pieces in there?’

‘Lots of research and hard work, Professor,’ Troy answered, starting to calm down
a little. ‘Lanny and three of his friends have spent maybe a thousand hours watching
films for me, trying to find exactly the right clips. And none of this would be possible,
of course, without the new data storage methods. We can now store an excellent digital
version of every movie ever made in the United States in a warehouse not much larger
than this duplex. I’ve just used data base capabilities to the fullest.’

Nick crushed a beer can in his hands. ‘It’s fabulous. Really. But I don’t know about
the sex business. And why do you have the player register his race at the beginning
of the game? Don’t you think that will offend some people? I never saw anything in
the game that was based on the racial information.’

Even though he was drunk, Troy became momentarily serious and almost sombre. ‘Look,
man,’ he said firmly, ‘sex and race are both a part of life. It may be true that people
play computer games primarily for entertainment, and that they would prefer not to
be confronted by some topics when they are amusing themselves, but I must be allowed
some creative licence. Race is with us every day and ignoring it, it seems to me,
only contributes to the problem.’

Troy brightened up. ‘Hey, Professor. That lizard-man who warned you on Thenia was
black. You went ahead anyway, despite his warning. What if he had been white? Would
you have turned around and gone back to the shuttle? A black man playing the game
encounters a
white
lizard-man on Thenia. It’s part of the show, man. There are twenty or so changes
in the scenario that are based on racial input.’

Nick’s expression was disbelieving. ‘Really,’ Troy said, standing up to return to
the room where they had played his game. ‘I’ll show you. Watch how the game starts
if you register that you are a black male.’

Nick followed Troy back into the computer room. His curiosity was piqued. Troy turned
the game on and Nick entered the biographical data, changing his race to black. This
time, when the television picture in his space station cabin came into focus, Princess
Heather was black! The princess this time was, in fact, Angie Leatherwood. ‘Well,
I’ll be damned,’ Nick said, looking over at a beaming Troy. ‘You are one clever dude,
Mr. Jefferson.’ Nick walked out of the room whistling and shaking his head again.
Troy turned off the game and followed.

‘Okay,’ Nick began, once they were back in Troy’s living room and seated on the couch,
‘one last question and then let’s forget the game for the time being. How did you
get my name into it? I thought that was very impressive.’

‘It was originally Lanny’s idea, based on a movie he watched about a speech therapist.
Lanny had all the minor characters spend a day mouthing all the vowel and consonant
sounds in a test session. Then we just put the sounds together with what are called
audio analytic continuation techniques.’ Troy laughed. He was feeling ebullient and
basking in the compliments. ‘But it does have its drawbacks. Our interpreter only
knows how to read simple English words. We may have to suppress that feature if we
sell the game abroad.’

Nick stood up. ‘Well, I’ve run out of superlatives. By the way, are there more of
you, brothers, sisters, anything? I guess I’d like to warn the rest of the world.’

‘Only me now,’ Troy replied, a faraway look fleetingly crossing his face. ‘I had a
brother, Jamie, six years older than me. We were very close. He died in an automobile
accident when I was fourteen.’

There was an awkward silence. ‘I’m sorry,’ Nick said, again touched by Troy’s openness.
Troy shrugged his shoulders and struggled with the sudden memory.

Nick changed the subject. They talked about the boat and then about Homer and his
crew for several minutes. Suddenly Nick looked at his watch. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said.
‘It’s after four o’clock. Weren’t we supposed to meet Carol Dawson at four?’

Troy jumped out of his chair. ‘We sure were. Some partners we turned out to be,’ he
was grinning again, ‘spending the entire afternoon drinking beer and playing games.’
The two men shared a small hug, threw the empty beer cans in the wastebin, and went
out of the door toward Nick’s car.

Carol was plainly irritated as she sat in the communications room at the Marriott.
She was drumming her fingers on the desk while she listened to the telephone ring.
There was a click and then Nick’s voice said, ‘I am not at home at the present time.
But if—’ She flipped the switch off hastily and completed the sentence, her sardonic
mimicry releasing some of her frustration, ‘But if you’ll leave your name, your number,
and the time that you called, I’ll get back to you as soon as I return.
S-h-i-t
. Shit. I knew I should have called before I left Miami.’

She dialled another number. Bernice answered and put her right through (on video)
to Dr. Dale Michaels. Carol did not bother with a greeting. ‘Can you believe that
I can’t even find the stupid bastard? He’s not on his boat, he’s not at home. Nobody
knows where he is. I could have stayed in Miami and taken a nap.’

Carol had not told Dr. Dale much about Nick and Troy. And what she had said about
Nick had not been flattering. ‘Well, what did you expect?’ Dale responded. ‘You wanted
to go out with amateurs as a cover. Why would you think that he would be easy to find
before your appointment? That kind usually stays in bed with his dame of the day until
he has some reason to greet the world.’ Dale chuckled to himself.

Carol found herself strangely annoyed by Dale’s disdainful comment about Nick’s love
life. She started to say something but decided against it. ‘Say, Dale,’ she said instead,
‘is this phone line absolutely secure? I have a couple of sensitive items to discuss
with you.’

He smiled. ‘Nothing to worry about. I have sensors that flash if there is the slightest
unexplained break anywhere in the line. Even on your end.’

‘Good,’ Carol replied. She pulled out her notebook and scanned a handwritten list.
‘As far as Arnie Webber knows,’ she said, looking up at the video camera, ‘there are
no legal prohibitions against salvaging any US government property, provided it is
returned to its rightful owner very soon after its retrieval. So I wouldn’t technically
be committing a crime if I pulled the missile up.’ She checked the first item off
her list.

‘But Dale, I thought about something else on the flight down here from Miami. This
thing is, after all, some kind of guided missile. What if it blows up? Am I crazy
to worry about such a thing? Or is it somehow incapacitated or whatever by sitting
down there in the sand and salt water for several days?’

Dale laughed. ‘Sometimes, Carol, you’re divine. I am fairly confident that the new
missile is designed to operate either in the air or in water. And I don’t think that
the sand would be able to foul up its critical parts in a short period of time. However,
the fact that it hasn’t exploded yet suggests to me that it probably wasn’t armed
in the first place, except possibly for a small destruct device that may or may not
already have failed. You are taking a calculated risk in retrieving that missile.
I still strongly suggest that you make your dive, obtain the photographs, and then
go public with the story. Dredging the missile up for display purposes seems to me
to be more of a stunt than journalism. Besides, it’s dangerous.’

Carol was curt. ‘As I said in the car, you are entitled to your opinion. The Navy
could make a case that I faked the pictures somehow. But they cannot argue with a
missile that has physical presence and can clearly be seen by a nationwide television
audience. I want maximum impact for the story.’