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buster."
The kid could have done it, Walter realized. He had the information. The nurse, suspecting no evil, would
believe. She would skip today's visit. He was stranded in the game.
"And this is your idea of fun," Walter said. "Trapping someone in the game, and then sticking around to
watch him squirm?"
"You got it, creep. Some of them get pretty crazy after a while. I had a woman begging me to let her go.
Said she'd do anything. Boy, I wish I'd been solid then!"
"Well, I'll just disappoint you by taking a nap." Actually Walter wanted a pretext to think about this new
development. His Quit glitch was turning out to be worse than he thought.
"Suit yourself. Meanwhile I'll go tell the Hero you're here with the bare Princess."
"Sure and get me killed so you can't mess with me anymore."
"I'll mess with you all I want, moron! You think you can get out of the game by getting killed? It's only
the setting you lose that way."
Walter ignored him. He lay on the bed beside Baal's inert game body and closed his eyes.
"You asked for it, jackass," Phreak said, and faded from the mirror.
Ouch! Walter had thought the kid was bluffing, because he wouldn't want the setting to end so fast. But
of course he could just track Walter down in the next setting and continue his harassment. So he didn't
mind ending this one. Maybe he would keep exposing Walter to hostile elements in other settings, just to
wipe him out and make him mad. He was evidently the kind of person who was satisfied with negative
attention, just so long as he got some kind of attention.
Walter hauled the Princess off the bed and shoved her under it, as she had requested. But it probably
wouldn't do any good, because Phreak would tell. So the prize of the dead Princess would go to the Hero,
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after all.
He paused to peer at the body, before dropping the bedspread down to conceal it. This one had not turned
into cardboard, perhaps because it was a player, not an empty game figure, and because it wasn't yet
finished. Baal had simply put her game body on hold during her absence. It still looked and felt exactly
like an exceedingly comely young woman. The woman who had been about to revive what he had
thought was forever lost: his physical sexual response. Thanks to her, he now knew it was possible, in the
framework of the game. That was a wonderful discovery.
He lay on the bed again, pondering. If he was trapped here indefinitely, what about his body? He had to
eat and drink. He could survive for a day and night, but suppose Phreak called the nurse again, to stop her
from coming the following day? This could be a death sentence!
But maybe that was Phreak's game. To convince his victim that he was going to suffer physically from
hunger, thirst, and natural functions, so that he would have to do whatever Phreak wanted. And Phreak
might have perverse tastes. He couldn't actually touch a player, but he could demand that the player do
weird things. Like a weak man with a gun, Phreak could revel in his feeling of power over another
person. The bug under the glass, getting poked. And Phreak could act indirectly, by telling other players,
who would come to kill the victim. That was what was happening now.
In fact Phreak was just making his point. He would wash Walter out of this setting, to prove he could do
it, and force Walter's cooperation in another setting. He was establishing that he did have control over the
bug, even if he couldn't touch him directly. Much as he would do if it happened to be a wasp under the
glass.
So what could Walter do about it? Well, he had already taken action, by sending Baal out of the game. If
she could alert the game proprietors, and if they could do something about it, then Phreak would be put
out of commission. So time was on his side as much as it was on Phreak's side.
But hadn't Phreak done this with other hapless players before? Why hadn't one of those others taken this
route to stop him? That suggested either that they hadn't thought of it, or had tried it and it hadn't worked.
But maybe they had thought of it, but not had another player to send out. Cooperation of this nature
among players must be rare, since each won points by killing others. So Phreak had no prior experience
with this ploy. Walter hoped. Phreak might be a sitting duck for whatever the proprietors had in mind.
Meanwhile it might be smart to ready another spell or two. Walter looked in the book.
There was the sound of running feet in the hall. Then Phreak appeared, in the mirror. "Better get ready,
dodo! They're coming for you!"
So the kid had done it, and the Hero had listened. He had fought his way back through whatever castle
denizens remained loyal to the Evil Sorcerer. And the Evil Sorcerer hadn't readied a defensive spell. He
should have done that first, so as to be ready. His mistake.
He took up the sword and stood ready to fight the oldfashioned way as the Hero burst in. "So you tricked
me, Sorcerer!" the Hero cried indignantly.
"And you listened to a game-crashing freak to gain an unfair advantage," Walter retorted.
"I thought it was another trick!" The man came at him with the sword.
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Could he reinvoke one of his prior spells? That would free another castle denizen, but would be worth it
if it worked. He paused to set up the spell of invulnerability.
Nothing happened. Then the Hero's sword was swinging at him. He tried to bring his own up to parry, but
was too slow. The blade sliced into his left shoulder.
There was a jolt of pain. Probably a stiff electric shock, but it felt just like a literal wound in this context.
Appearance and imagination counted for a lot.
He swung his own sword, viciously, at the Hero's head. But the man countered, and knocked Walter's
blade away. Then he rammed the point straight at Walter's face.
There was another shock. This one was to his head. Then there was a worse one at his chest. Walter spun
into oblivion, the pain tearing at him.
After a horrible moment that was also an eternity of agony, Walter became aware of a dark cell. His
screen flashed: his score was now minus one in the Survivor level. He had wiped out.
But where was he? There seemed to be no scene or setting. This wasn't the anteroom either. It was just
nothing. Just a place where his heart was beating out of control.
It was probably the game's notion of death. A time of nothingness. Maybe for some there was a scene of
Heaven or Hell, depending on their religion and state of grace. But he had listed NO PREF in the box for
religious preference, so he had nothing when he died here. It made sense.
What didn't make sense was the ferocity of the death scene. His heart was really hurting!
Then he realized what must have happened. The game had given him a shock at the chest to signify the
failure of his heart when he died. But he had forgotten about his pacemaker. There had been some
damage to his nervous system above the waist, and his heart could fibrillate on occasion. That game
shock must have affected his pacemaker! So instead of keeping his heartbeat steady, it had sent it into
wildness.
Gradually it settled down, and Walter relaxed both physically and mentally. That had been an ugly
session. He would have to avoid such shocks in the future, until the position of the pacemaker could be
corrected. It must be sitting right under the section of the wrapping that delivered the shock. A shock that
was surely harmless to any ordinary person, but potentially deadly to Walter.
But how was he going to get it corrected, when he couldn't leave the game?
1010 ten HELP
Baal got out of her helmet, gloves, boots, and wrappings. She checked her blood: it was in good shape.
Indeed, she felt good, because she was needed and she had a mission. She liked Walter, and wanted to
help him. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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