Андерс де ла Мотт – The Complete Game Trilogy: Game, Buzz, Bubble (страница 34)
He could hear how desperate he sounded, but made no effort to hide it.
Erman let out a slow chuckle.
‘HP, HP, HP … You still don’t get it, do you? … None of what you’ve been through is real. It was all just a game, a phone app that seamlessly integrates truth and illusion so well that in hindsight it’s practically impossible to know where the boundaries are. Look up the word
The look of incomprehension on HP’s face made Erman sigh again.
‘Okay, I’ll spell it out: they’re lying to you, HP! The Game shows you some things that are true, and some that were stitched together just for you. Motivations differ from player to player. Some get turned on by sport – others by girls or music.
‘Whereas you evidently like films and computer games – so the Game gives you your very own starring role, complete with a fan club and everything …’
Erman gulped the last of his coffee before going on.
‘Suddenly you’re the leading man instead of a spectator. From Nobody to VIP in the space of a few days. The fans out there in cyberspace can’t seem to get enough of you, and pretty soon you can’t get enough of them. And all the Game asks in exchange for this massive trip is a few tiny little assignments …’
He was staring at HP, whose face had gone completely white.
‘Basically it works just like any other sort of addiction,’ he went on. ‘Drugs, gambling, or in your case attention and affirmation – the same mechanisms kick in inside your head. And as the addiction grows, the brain loses the ability for critical analysis. You’ve turned into a
‘But it’s all just a game –
He looked expectantly at HP once again.
‘So, to return to your question, my friend. The list they showed you could very well be real, but it could just as easily be something they put together especially for you. Because that’s what gets you going. They’re playing with you, HP, just like you play with the poor bastards on the other end of the assignments, which brings me to the less attractive part of the Game.’
Less attractive! HP thought. How the fuck could anything be less attractive?
He was suddenly feeling like a prize idiot, a fucking puppet that they’d been playing with just for the hell of it. Jerking his strings to see what would happen, and betting on the outcome.
His head was spinning fast now and it took him several seconds before he realized that Erman had started talking again.
‘… the assignments really come from? Betting is only one of the Game’s sources of income. As I’m sure you can understand, it costs a hell of a lot to keep something like this rolling. People are playing on several continents, so the financing is pretty damn important.’
He paused to refill their coffee-cups and took a third turn around the house. Once he’d reassured himself that everything was still okay, he returned to the kitchen table.
‘You see …’ Erman began in a low voice, leaning towards HP, so close that he could smell the caffeine cocktail on his breath … ‘this is where it gets really nasty!’
She took the chance to do it while the others in the group were playing indoor hockey and the corridor was empty. She’d declined to join in, blaming the fact that she still felt sore after the crash, and because they’d managed to put together two teams anyway, they didn’t try to persuade her.
According to her rota, Nilla wasn’t supposed to be working today, so she started with her home number. Two rings, then three, four. The answer machine clicked in and she was just about to hang up when she heard clattering as someone picked up the receiver.
‘Hello-this-is-Nilla!’
Her voice sounded more or less how she remembered.
She took a deep breath.
‘Hello Nilla, this is Rebecca Nor … er, Pettersson. Do you have time to talk for a couple of minutes? I’d really appreciate it.’
More clattering, then:
‘Sorry, I was just turning off the answer machine, what did you say your name was?’
‘Rebecca. Rebecca Pettersson.’
There was silence on the line.
Rebecca’s heart was pounding so hard that she imagined she could see her shirt fluttering over her chest.
‘Look, it’s like this, my friend. The Game requires a hell of a lot of money to function.’
Erman counted quickly on his fingers.
‘The Ants, the phones, the server-farms, and last but not least the functionaries, the people who are employed to keep the whole thing on the rails. Then there’s all the money that’s constantly being paid out to the Players, and the rewards for anyone who does particularly well. There are quite a few fixed costs each month, but I’ve done some calculations and they pretty much cover those with what they take from the live betting. The really big cash cow, the golden goose that gives the owners their profit – are the people who commission the assignments.’
HP nodded as if he understood, but in truth he was feeling completely lost.
‘Basically, various customers turn to the Game to get things done, if you follow me?
HP was still looking blank.
‘Things that can’t be done any other way,’ Erman went on, almost manic now. ‘Illegal stuff, get it?’
He drummed his index finger impatiently on the tabletop.
Yes, HP thought he was starting to get it …
‘You mean you can call and order something to be done, and the Game fixes it?’ he said cautiously.
‘Something like that,’ Erman nodded eagerly.
‘This part is Top Secret and is only handled by the Game Master’s closest circle. I don’t know all the details but I think it goes something like this: a customer wants something done, but without there being any trail back to him. It could be information, business secrets, or something more medieval, like messing with someone you’ve had an argument with. The Game has the ability to do all that, although obviously it comes with a serious price tag. Maybe there’s an Ant who can dig up what’s needed, or they can send a Player to get the job done if it’s something more risky. The Game can be used for absolutely anything.’
His face had been getting redder and redder, and somewhere at the back of HP’s mind a little alarm-bell started to ring.
‘So, for example, that lawyer you told me about. At a guess, he’s managed to seriously upset someone, but instead of contacting the Law Society, that person contacted the Game. And in a flash the Game Master conjures up a wheel-spanner and a Player desperate for cred who hates Stureplan lawyers. The customer gets his revenge documented on video, and if you fucked up and got caught and were stupid enough to break rule number one, there wouldn’t be much to tell – at least nothing that anyone would believe. It’s just like Verbal says in
‘
Erman flew up and started pacing round the little kitchen impatiently.
‘Erm … sure!’ HP agreed, as he tried to squeeze this latest information into his already overloaded brain. This all sounded pretty weird, which was probably understatement of the year …
‘So you mean …?’ he began, mostly out of politeness.
Erman flashed him an impatient look and sat down again at the table. Evidently he wasn’t completely happy with HP’s hesitant response.
‘Obviously, the problem is that there aren’t any boundaries. Okay, so the Game Master can’t actually
Erman’s voice was cracking into falsetto.
‘But what the Game does is to keep shifting the boundary of how far a Player is prepared to go. Just look at what happened to you! We’re talking arson, sabotage, GBH, even murder! You only need to look at the paper to see what goes on every day!’
HP was getting more and more convinced that Erman was well on the way to losing it completely. You only had to look at the colour of his face to realize that Eyjafjallajökull was about to erupt.