Interlude- Brandon (23 page)

Chapter 67

Brandon opened his eyes and looked slowly around his room, making a complete circuit before stopping to look at Thorn, who was sitting in a chair beside his bed.

“Is this real?”

Thorn’s mouth twitched into a sly grin, “Well… no, it’s a simulation.”

Brandon laughed, “I know that! Am I in a bedroom or a house? This room is huge! It looks like my avatar is a rich kid.”

“He is indeed, a very rich kid, Brandon.” Thorn smiled, enjoying the look of happiness on Brandon’s face. He’d always felt bad for this poor boy. His parents killed, abandoned by his only remaining kin, then sent to live the life of a slave to a megalomaniac bent on world domination. Every parent wanted to give their children the best possible life, and this was Thorn’s attempt to do that for Brandon. It also happened to fit in with what Brandon would need if he was to have a chance to pull off his plans, but that was a happy coincidence.

“Which makes me a very rich kid,” Brandon laughed and threw himself back into the huge soft bed. “What’s my last name here?” he asked.

“Your last name is Strayne,” Thorn had built this avatar
custom perfect , even down to the last name. Brandon would never know that his new surname was his true one, but Thorn would know, and that was something.

“Brandon Strayne,” Brandon said it out loud and nodded his head. “That’s a very good name.”

“It sure is.”

“So what about
the parents?”

“Sorry
on that end of things,” Thorn said. “Your mom isn’t around, and your dad is a super successful computer genius who’s always travelling.”

“That’s handy, considering that you want me to learn quantum computing and design,”

“It’s your reward for learning it already,” Thorn said. Brandon had spent his first thirty year Sim becoming a computing expert. Of all the teams, Brandon’s had the greatest advantage. His exceptional talents, combined with thirty years of experience already in computing, would help his odds of finding a solution to the problem occurring in the Dream.

“Your father is never here. I’m sorry, Brandon, but you won’t have much of a childhood during this Sim.”

Brandon stood up and grabbed Thorn in a sincere hug. “That’s okay,” he said, “my first thirty year Sim was incredible. I had the best parents and family life a person could ever dream of having. Besides, I already have a Father who takes good care of me.”

Thorn hugged the boy back, closing his eyes and losing himself in the warmth and emotion of being loved with such sincerity. Despite the way life had played out to this point, Brandon was a passionate boy who sincerely cared about the special people in his life.

They hugged for a long moment before Brandon let go. Thorn blinked his eyes rapidly to make the tears disappear as best as he could before he stepped back to face the boy.

“I’m very proud of you, Brandon,” Thorn said. “If anyone can find a solution, it’s you.”

“Thank you, Father. I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

Thorn knew the next thirty years would be hard on their relationship. There would be times that
Brandon would hate him, but that would be necessary if he was to get Brandon to work and develop to his fullest potential. “I know you will, Son,” he said.

“Can you tell me where the others ended up?” Brandon asked. He walked over to his desk and turned on the desktop computer, expertly pulling up a program to make notes for reference.

“I was able to put your Hand members close to you,” Thorn said. “Tony and Kay are in your high school, and Alan and Easton are just a few blocks outside your school zone. You’ll be able to spend a lot of time with all of them.”

“That’s great news,” Brandon said. “What about the others?”

“Some of them are close, others you might not meet in person for a few years since they are on other continents.” Thorn shook his head. “I did the best we could, but you sprang some of them on me last minute.”

“I did,” Brandon nodded. “It’s no problem. Are Carl and Wesley close?”

Thorn shook his head, “Wesley is an adult, so he’ll likely quit his job and start making his way towards you. As for Carl,” Thorn didn’t look pleased. “The absolute best avatar I could find for him to inhabit has put him in some… unpleasant conditions.”

“That’s fine,” Brandon said. “I’m not worried about Carl, he’s very resilient.
He will leave his placement early, likely, and find his way here.”

Thorn nodded. “The rules for this game are on your computer. Learn them well. There are stages you can unlock, outside help you can bring in under certain circumstances, and a large assortment of other perks and rewards. Rules and prices for cheating death or, if someone gets killed, we might be able to put them back in. All of it is costly, though, so learn the game well. I will continue to do what I can, although it won’t be very much, Son. This has to be your solution. My involvement could prevent you from going down a path that would lead to our salvation.”

“I understand, Father,” Brandon said. “Will I see you again soon?”

“You will only be allowed so many visits, including myself and others,” Thorn said, “but yes, we will see each other again soon.”

The white door appeared, signalling Thorn’s time to depart had arrived. Brandon ran over and gave him another fierce hug, which Thorn returned with as much fervour.

“Good luck, Son.”

Brandon smiled as Thorn walked towards the doorway. “Thanks, Dad.”

After Thorn disappeared, Brandon looked around for a moment. Then, remembering the hard bunk that he’d spent most of his thirteen years sleeping on, he ran back to jump into his huge comfortable bed. Saving the world could wait for another hour or two.

===

Thorn and Cooper sat together, eating a meal. The two men were so busy that the only way to fit it all in was to do more than one activity at the same time.

“Did Brandon’s group go in?” Cooper asked.

“Yes,” Thorn said. “Each of the Elite teams are now inside their own private worlds.”

“Some of them have interesting plans,” Cooper said.

“That’s what they were selected and trained to do,” Thorn said, “come up with plans and execute them. The General believed that games could produce extraordinary results, and he was right. We’ve seen things over the years that most would never believe. I always loved the idea, even when I didn’t agree with the specific tasks he was trying to accomplish.”

“Do you think any of them can do it?”

“I don’t know,” Thorn said, “but I’ve pointed them all in the right direction. Brandon was right; doubling our odds of success is much better than a single chance.”

Cooper chuckled. “Yes, and if each team makes a solid attempt, then we have thirty chances to find a solution within the next three months.”

Thorn looked up from his food. “How many?” he asked.

“Thirty,” Cooper said. “That’s how many teams we just put into simulations. You knew that.”

“I didn’t really pay attention to the number before,” Thorn said. “How many years does the simulation last?” he asked.

“Thirty years.”

“Do you know how long the General’s plan was?” Thorn asked. “His life plan for world domination that’s in its final year?”

Cooper shook his head, then he saw Thorn’s look and took a guess. “Thirty?”

“That’s right.”

“Does it mean anything, or is it just coincidence?”

“I’ve lived in computer simulations myself,” Thorn admitted. “You’ve done three tours, I’ve done six.”

Cooper whistled, “180 years, Doc, that’s a lot of living.”

“It is,” Thorn nodded. “When you get to live a certain amount of years, you stop calling it coincidence, and start calling it fate.”

“So what’s it mean?”

“I have no idea,” Thorn admitted. “Perhaps we won’t live long enough to know.”

The two men ate quietly. During desert, Cooper asked another question. 

“Any idea where the General is?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Thorn said, “but if he’s in the Sim, we have to find him, and soon.”

Chapter 68

The General couldn’t move his head. They’d somehow rendered him immobile, even though nothing was physically touching his body.

At one point, as they released him from their invisible grip and he’d tumbled towards the cold, hard floor, he’d thought to himself, I really should have used the Sim for torture. Then he’d felt his face smash hard into the floor and his mouth had erupted into blazes of pain as his teeth broke, followed soon after by the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

The worst part of the torture was waking up feeling great, and looking down to see not a single scratch or mark on his body. The General had learned how easy it was to repair an avatar so that it could be destroyed yet again. The days when he felt the best had become the most terrifying, because it meant they were about to start from the beginning and hurt him all over again.

Decades of easy living as the top man in the system, with years of having neglected his physical training, protected from harm by bodyguards, had made the General an easy subject to torture. On most days, less than five minutes into a session he was begging to tell them anything they wanted to hear. The General wasn’t proud of it, but it was the plain and simple truth.

Of course they hadn’t asked him for any information. Brad came in every morning, made some polite small talk and drank a cup of coffee. Then he went to the sink, washed his hands, and approached the General to begin the daily session of pain.

It was impossible to know how long he’d been here, but it seemed like eternity.

“Good morning, Donovan,” Brad said as he opened the door. He swung it shut with his foot. He had two cups of coffee in his hands this morning, and a bag that must have some food in it. This was new.

“I thought we could take a little break and enjoy a hot beverage and a sinful pastry treat together. Would you like that, sir?”

Brad was being polite and respectful, two things that he’d not bothered to be since the General came here, but the General was too tired and worn down to mention it. He nodded his head slightly, hoping Brad could see the gesture, which apparently he did.

“That’s wonderful, sir,” Brad smiled. “I think we’ll just have a little talk today, and if everything goes well, we can see about giving you a rest from our daily sessions. How does that sound?”

The General bit his lip to keep from weeping in relief and nodding his head wildly. Instead he blinked back the traitorous tears forming in his eyes as best as he could, and nodded slightly twice.

“That’s great,” Brad said. He pulled up two chairs and set the coffee and bag down beside one. He walked over to the General and, with a simple wave of his hand, released the invisible bonds that held him suspended in place.

They always left him anchored there against the wall when they were done with him; standing upright with his arms stretched outwards. Lack of blood flow and movement for
so long had robbed him of his basic strength. The General fell to the ground with a heavy thud, where he lay unmoving. Brad stood over him with a pleasant look on his face, but made no motion to help the General stand. “I’m afraid if you want your treat, you’ll have to come get it yourself.”

Brad walked back and sat comfortably in one chair, reaching down to grab a coffee. He took a sip and pointedly looked away from the General, gazing with intense interest at some imaginary point on the wall. The General began to
flop his arms and slowly moved his way towards the chair. Inch by painful inch, after what seemed like an eternity the weakened old man finally made it to the chair. He half leaned against it and panted for breath, his lungs burning and all of his strength used. With a look of desperation he croaked out the word, ‘help’ and raised his hand slightly towards Brad.

Brad looked down at the General. His face softened and he nodded with mock sympathy. “Well done, sir, well done! Here, let me help you the rest of the way.” He lifted a hand and the General floated into the air and came to rest on the chair. He slowly began to slide sideways, but a strong invisible force held him securely. This time he was glad for the support.

Brad handed the second coffee to the General, who accepted it with a shaky hand and took a sip. It should have been cold after sitting so long, but it was scalding hot. The General burned his lip and the roof of his mouth, but he didn’t flinch or care. After the things that had been done to him he barely felt the pain. He blew on the coffee and took rushed, greedy sips, afraid that Brad would suddenly change his mind and take the delicious liquid from him.

Brad sat comfortably as if they were two old friends sitting on a park bench on a lovely summer’s day. “You’ve probably been wondering how I managed to stay alive,” Brad said. He looked sideways at the General, who nodded weakly as if he was nodding off to sleep. “I guess I should thank you for putting that RFID in my neck and not my head. When you activated it I was landing in your enemies’ airport. I know you said they wouldn’t be interested in helping me, but it turns out that they were.
That nasty little explosive blew quite the hole in my throat. There was a lot of pain and blood. It’s hard to describe but don’t worry, eventually I’ll let you experience that sensation a few times, then you’ll have a better understanding of what I mean. Anyway, they had a medical team right there in the plane with me and as soon as I blew, they got to work on me. I almost died a few times, but medical professionals really are amazing. They eventually fixed me up and put me into hiding so your spies wouldn’t know that I had survived.”

Brad paused and took a drink of his coffee. The General’s coffee was gone. Brad noticed and handed him a pastry from the bag. The General began to shove the treat into his mouth
noisily.

“So after a few months, I was healed enough to talk with them. I knew you very well, sir, and they were impressed. Spies kept an eye on you and I scoured every report looking for things that we could use against you. I was very excited when I learned about this virtual reality program and your work with Samson Thorn.”

Brad took a bite of his pastry and kept talking. “At first we didn’t know what to do with it, but then we found out Thorn had a helmet, and that he was going to be making millions of them to sell to the public. Well, by that time we already had our version of virtual reality, stolen from you — too easily, I might add, we knew you wanted us to have it and had to spend months finding and eliminating all the spyware and viruses — but we weren’t sure how to get access to you. It was very shrewd and clever of you to never enter the Sim. I had your DNA, hair I’d collected from a comb, so we decided to set a trap for you. We bought  every company who could possibly make the helmets and waited for the contracts to come in. Once we had the contracts, we installed a small program into every single helmet. It was a program that would recognize your DNA and, once you put a helmet on, would send you to our simulation instead of Thorn’s. We’ve waited for years for you to break down and put a helmet on, sir. There were times when I actually thought you might never do it.”

Brad smiled and patted the General on the knee. “But you did, and let me say that it was well worth the wait.”

Brad stood up and brushed the crumbs off his pants. “Thank you for joining me for the drink and the chat, General. It was good to talk with you. We’ve been very busy with the sessions, and haven’t talked much at all.”

The General felt better after the nourishment and the drink, but he was still too weak to stand or speak.

“I’m gonna call it a day, now, and some nice men will come take to you to a room with a nice, comfortable bed for you to sleep on. We’ll get you some food and let you rest up fully. How does that sound?”

The General knew it was likely a bad idea, but he was so weak, tired, and sore that he didn’t care. If he was going to be tortured again, he preferred to sleep in a nice bed once more. He nodded and tried to smile.

“That’s great,” Brad said. “You rest up, sir, and when we meet in a couple days, I’ll finally be able to start your sessions with some real intensity.”

He walked out the door whistling.

The General sat there and hung his head. He couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and he began to sob.