Gamers' Challenge (17 page)

‘You have the power of the Interface,’ said theprofessor. ‘Yes. You do. You can defeat it. Yes. You can.’

The Ultimate Gamer held up his hands in front ofhis featureless face, turning them one way and then the other. ‘It is not enough. The program will win.’

‘More, more, more,’ said the professor excitedly.

‘We can give you more. Yes.’ He paced up and down. ‘I can charge up the IDD again and again. Yes. Or?’ He stopped pacing. ‘Or a direct link up to the Interface.’

‘That may work,’ said the Ultimate Gamer. ‘Buttime will be limited.’

The professor rushed off to his workshop.

‘What do you mean by “time will be limited”?’ asked Zyra.

‘The raw power of the Interface, in a constant feed, will be impossible to contain,’ explained the Ultimate Gamer. ‘It will give me power. But it will eventually overwhelm me.’

‘How much time will you have?’ asked Hope.

‘I don’t know.’ It was Bobby’s voice and it was barely a whisper.

On the screen the antivirus program had taken on the form of a robot. All sharp jutting angles and lethal weaponry, it was an arsenal on squat, boxy legs. It was blasting away at the grid perimeter with various guns protruding from its mechanical arms.

The professor came back into the common room dragging the end of a cable. ‘This is a link to the Interface via my switchboard.’ He plugged the cable into the connection port on the podium. ‘The cable carries a greater amount of charge per second than you can possibly use. More than enough to destroy you instantly. You will need to monitor and control the amount you take in.’

The Ultimate Gamer inclined his head stiffiy.

‘Good.’ The professor pointed back over this shoulder. ‘I need to go and switch it on. Yes.’ He rushed back out again.

On the screen, a hole had appeared in the perimeter. The robot blasted away at it.

‘I’m scared.’ It was Bobby’s voice.

The power of the Interface charged along the cable to the podium.

The Ultimate Gamer arched his back as the power thundered through him, his silvery lustre returned tenfold. The loops around him sparked with energy as they increased in speed. The holographic keyboards and joystick disappeared as he stood, spreading his arms. His hands extended towards the loops, which spun so fast it looked as if he were enclosed in a sphere of static. When his silvery fingertips skimmed the spinning loops, he became a ball of blistering brilliance.

There was a collective intake of breath from theaudience. The professor squinted through his glasses as he scurried back into the common room.

On screen the light grid changed from green to static grey. The breach sealed itself, the impact of the robot’s continual blasting now having no effect. The pinpoints of light unified, taking on a familiar bulky shape.

30: Battle in the Light Grid
-
Static Man vs Fat Man
 

The Fat Man was carrying a bazooka. He aimed and fired three shots. The first shattered the robot’s arm. The second knocked the robot to the ground. The third blew apart its head. The static of the antivirus program collapsed into a formless heap.

The Fat Man tossed aside the empty weapon and strode across the grid. By the time he reached the antivirus program, it was already taking a human shape, mirroring its adversary. The Static Man was the same height and breadth as the Fat Man, but instead of fat, its bulk was made of muscle. Pulling an arm back, it threw a punch at the Fat Man. The static fist connected with the Fat Man’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

The Static Man chuckled as it loomed over its opponent. ‘I know what you’ve done. It won’t help. The Interface will consume you from the inside out while I watch.’

The Fat Man spun on the ground, scissoring his legs and knocking the Static Man to the ground. Within seconds he was on top of it, throwing punch after punch. Each time he hit the static face, its features rippled and changed momentarily, different faces superimposing onto the Static Man’s body. The faces laughed with every blow.

The Fat Man placed his hands around the Static

Man’s throat, squeezing with all his might. The Static Man reached up and did the same, shifting its weight. The battling opponents tumbled across the ground from one end of the grid to the other.

They hit the perimeter, energy arcing through them, forcing them apart. The Fat Man got to his feet first, but the Static Man kicked out, connecting with its opponent’s substantial gut. The Fat Man was propelled into the air. He slammed into the grid perimeter. Energy crackled and sparked as he fell to the ground.

The Static Man casually got to its feet and saunteredacross the grid. ‘Once I have defeated you, I will consume the Outers, savouring each and every byte of each and every corrupted file.’ His voice was an ominous, hollow rumble. ‘I will pick apart the bones of their binary coding and assimilate their strengths. And then . . .’ It sneered. ‘And then, nothing will stand in my way. I will make my way across Designers Paradise, devour every environment, eating every program, every file, every skerrick of data. I will amalgamate everything within my coding and I shall become the one and only program.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ breathed the Fat Man, struggling to his feet. ‘But to what purpose? You are an antivirus program.’

‘Don’t you see? Everything is corrupt. Everything must be cleansed. Only when all things are me, can I ensure that no viruses shall come into being.’

‘You’re wrong,’ said the Fat Man. ‘There will still be a virus.’

The Static Man tilted its head.

‘The worst possible virus - you!’ The Fat Man murmured an incantation under his breath. The earth beneath the Static Man moved around its feet. The Static Man was unable to take a step as the ground itself rose up around its ankles. It crept up, forming a mound as it reached past the static knees.

‘Anything you can do, I can do better,’ sang the Static Man. It invoked a spell and the ground beneath the Fat Man encased his own feet and began to rise.

31: Plans
 

As the battle progressed on screen, Tark noticed Professor Palimpsest edging out of the common room again. Tark was certain that something wasn’t right. Everyone else’s attention was focussed on the screen, so he easily slipped away and followed the professor to his workshop.

Tark peered in. The professor’s back was turned while he fumbled intently with something on the main workbench. His instincts had been correct; the professor was up to something.

‘Wot ya doin’?’ demanded Tark, entering the workshop.

The professor jumped and whirled around. Hisleft sleeve was rolled up, a rough tourniquet above the elbow. In his right hand he held a syringe filled with the static of the Interface, a long needle at its end.

‘Preparing to make amends,’ said the professor, gravely.

‘Wot?’ asked Tark.

‘The Ultimate Gamer has a limited time in which to defeat the antivirus program, before the Interface consumes him from within.’ The professor spoke steadily, all trace of his eccentric programmed speech pattern gone - suppressed by a new determination.

‘He will not win without some help. This is my fault,so I shall provide that help. I need to distract the program. Find a weakness, perhaps.’

And how does ya plan on doing that?’

‘Like this.’ The professor jabbed the needle into a vein on his arm, and injected the static. ‘Now I will enter the grid and let the antivirus program consume me. The static patches prevented the antibodies from finding us, and so I am hoping that enough of it coursing through my bloodstream will shield my coding once I have been assimilated.’

‘But ya’ll die.’

‘I will die anyway.’

‘We is all gonna die if we don’t defeats the program,’ said Tark. ‘With yar help we mights be able ta come up with anotha plan.’

‘You misunderstand me. I will die no matter what. The dose I have just injected will soon kill me.’ He tossed the syringe onto the workbench. ‘So get out of my way. The sooner I am assimilated by the antivirus program, the more time I will have to make a difference.’

The professor walked past Tark.

‘Waits,’ called Tark. ‘There’s gotta be sumthin’ else the rest of us can do.’ He looked around the workshop and spotted the empty IDD. ‘Wot about that thing?’

‘No,’ said the professor, stopping at the door. ‘No. It does not hold enough charge. You would simply be giving the antivirus program more power.’

‘But -’ Tark’s voice was tinged with desperation.

‘Matters are out of your hands.’ The professor headed out the door mumbling, ‘Out, out, out.’

Tark lowered his eyes and saw the cable snaking itsway to the alcove at the back of the workshop, a soft sizzling glow emanating from the darkness. His eyes followed the cable up to the professor’s switchbox. ‘I wunda.’

He rummaged through the professor’s workshop, looking in the piles of equipment on the workbenches, the boxes full of spare parts and the lockers with additional equipment. Finally he found what he needed under the main workbench.

Tark made his way back to the common room and sidled up to Zyra.

‘I has an idea,’ he whispered.

‘Shhh,’ Zyra responded. ‘Look.’ She pointed up at the screen.

The Fat Man and the Static Man were still exchanging blows. The Fat Man’s clothes were ragged and he was bleeding from wounds on his face. His steps were faltering, his punches often mistimed and having little effect. By contrast the Static Man was full of energy, leaping about and delivering well placed blows that sent its opponent staggering and falling.

Tark looked over at the Ultimate Gamer. He had again lost his sheen, with a spreading blackness inking its way through the liquid silver.

Tark shook Zyra’s shoulder urgently. ‘I’ve gats anidea and I needs yar ‘elp.’

‘What?’ asked Zyra, looking away from the screen.

‘Ya needs ta come with me ta the professor’s workshop,’ said Tark. ‘I thinks there’s a way we can

‘elps the gamer dude.’

Tee and Hope gasped, eyes glued to the screen. Tark and Zyra looked up.

Professor Palimpsest was reaching out a hand to the light grid. He touched the perimeter and was suddenly inside. He strode across the grid to where the Static Man stood over the slumped form of the Fat Man.

‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘This really is not acceptable behaviour. No. No. No.’

The Static Man turned around and grabbed the professor in a big bear-hug. Palimpsest slowly sank into the static, his features distorting and dispersing until there was nothing left of him.

Hope gasped again and Tee muttered, ‘What was he trying to prove?’.

‘Now,’ hissed Tark. ‘We’ve gats ta go now.’

‘All right,’ said Zyra, as Tark led her out of the common room and into the workshop. ‘What’s this brilliant idea of yours?’

‘What’s this brilliant idea of yours?’ repeated

Tark. He paused and looked suspiciously at Zyra.

‘Wot’s with the fancy talk?’

‘Oh.’ Zyra waved her hand dismissively. ‘I’ve decided to overcome my programming.’

‘Why?’ he demanded.

‘Because it’s what I want to do.’ Zyra put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, daring Tark to make an issue of it. ‘Now tell me about your idea.’

Tark stared at her for a moment before answering.

‘We needs ta overload the antivirus program.’ He patted the IDD on the workbench.

‘That won’t work,’ said Zyra. ‘We need a direct feed to the Interface in order to overload it.’

‘We will,’ said Tark, picking up a roll of cable. ‘We plugs one end inta the IDD and the other inta one of

‘em cracks in the wall.’

Zyra played with the stud in her lip and swiped at her hair. ‘What if it overloads the IDD?’

Tark shrugged. ‘At leasts we’ll have tried.’

‘Okay,’ said Zyra. ‘You better have a long lead.’ Tark passed the cable to Zyra. ‘This ‘ere is thelongest I could finds.’

Zyra examined it. ‘This won’t go very far. We need to find an exposed area of Interface closer to the cave entrance.’