Андерс де ла Мотт – The Complete Game Trilogy: Game, Buzz, Bubble (страница 35)

Not to mention all that creepy staring …

‘You can look at any media outlet you like, and you’ll be able to find the Game in an instant. All you have to do is keep an eye out for phrases like inexplicable, unknown reasons and no obvious motive, and you’ve stumbled across the Game …’

Erman got up suddenly and ran over to one of the windows. He peered anxiously at the trees, as if he’d heard someone coming.

When he didn’t manage to see any danger he took two quick strides back to the kitchen table and leaned over HP.

‘They’ll take pretty much any job as long as you can pay!’ he snarled into HP’s face, giving him a close-up of a row of yellowing teeth.

‘There’s always some dumb fuck who’s prepared to do it. Some willing patsy who’s already crossed the line. It goes on all the time, in a whole load of different places all round the world. Check it out for yourself if you don’t believe me!’

Erman’s voice cracked again and HP sighed in disappointment. Fuck it, this had all started out so promisingly … Up to about five minutes ago his weird host had seemed more or less kosher. After all, who wouldn’t be a bit weird, out here in the middle of nowhere. But now he’d crossed the line, big-time.

The evil organization, the global conspiracy behind all the shit that ever happened in the world! The CIA, Opus Dei, ZOG or the Freemasons, it just depended which lunatic you asked. A placard on your chest and a regular spot in the town square.

I’m the only one who’s worked out the truth! Yippikayee mothafucker! Game over, thanks for the coffee, time to go now …

‘Well, thanks very much, Erman, this is all good information, but right now I should probably …’ he muttered, standing up.

‘… a cigarette, no problem, but you’ll have to go outside. I’ll blag one off you.’

Looking confused, as if the comment had interrupted his train of thought and made him lose his thread, Erman shepherded HP out onto the front step before the astonished HP had time to protest.

It was nice to get a bit of fresh air, at least, he thought as he pulled out his cigarettes.

He offered one to Erman, then lit it and his own with his trusty old Zippo. He took a couple of deep drags and tried to stop his head spinning.

Okay, so Erman might have a few screws loose, but on the other hand he clearly possessed loads of useful information about the Game. Even if it had seriously messed with his own ideas, he couldn’t deny that a lot of what Erman had said actually made sense, and even seemed logical, if that word could actually be applied in this context.

But the theory of the Global Conspiracy was a bit hard to digest. Serious pulp fiction stuff, all it needed was a couple of serial killers and a dysfunctional cop to tick all the boxes. But what was the line between hard fact and wild fantasy?

They stood there smoking in silence while HP tried to work out his next move.

Really he felt like leaving. That crazy stare Erman had flashed at him a while back had scared him and he suddenly remembered that they were completely alone out here in the bush, with no way of calling for help.

But Erman seemed to have calmed down again now. The mad look had gone and where his face was visible behind the beard it had resumed a normal colour. Probably it wouldn’t be that risky to hang about a bit longer.

Besides, he had a feeling there was more he needed to find out.

‘So how did you get dragged into all this, Erman?’ HP began tentatively.

Erman took a long, final drag and then flicked the butt into the nettles.

‘I was the one who installed their farm up here.’

He glanced quickly at HP and discovered that he was looking lost again.

‘Server-farm,’ he explained slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

‘The Game has five in total, or at least they did when I got out.’

He counted on his fingers again:

‘North America, South America, Africa, Asia and Europe/Middle East. Seriously massive giant farms that handle all the data in the Game. The servers in there control all the mobile phones, image files, they send out the assignments, gather it all together and store the information, and handle the cash flow. They also control all communication between the Players, the Game Master and the Circle. No farms, no Game, get it?’

HP nodded eagerly, he got it, and more importantly: this was seriously useful information!

‘So you installed the one for Europe?’

‘Europe and the Middle East,’ Erman corrected.

‘That must be a pretty massive farm, then?’

HP was trying to sound impressed. Evidently it worked, because Erman suddenly looked a bit happier.

‘I was pretty much given a free hand. A hefty bank account and a few basic specs, then I was left to get on with it. Almost six months’ work, sixty hours a week. All the latest technology, as well as a few things that still haven’t hit the market, and maybe never will. NASA stuff, yeah? The Game could get hold of anything, and I mean anything! I just had to say what I needed and they sorted it.’

He sighed happily.

‘Sounds pretty sweet!’ HP flattered. ‘But how did they find you? I mean … why you in particular?’

‘Because I was the best, wasn’t I?’ Erman gave him another condescending stare but HP let it pass.

‘Didn’t you get what I told you just now? The Game does its homework, they’ve got informants everywhere and it didn’t take them long to put together a shortlist of people who could do what they wanted to get done.’

He waved two fingers at HP, and HP quickly finished his cigarette, pulled out the packet and lit two new Marlboros for himself and his host.

‘First an anonymous email to see if I was interested, spiced with just enough questions and challenges to get me going. Pretty much like you and your first assignments.

‘It took a while before I realized that they were weren’t just talking theoretically, they really were planning to put together an installation like that up here. When I finally realized it was serious, I couldn’t say no. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the sort of thing most people in my line of work could only dream of. The only problem was the suits made sure that I never got any sort of credit for it.’

He cleared his throat and spat a gob of saliva towards the nettles.

‘I had to sign loads of documents, but they were basically all variations on rule number one: Never talk about the Game! When it was all done the suits came back and checked and once they’d approved everything I had to hand over my keys, passcard and everything. Thanks a lot, we’ll take it from here. I offered to carry on, become the system administrator for the farm. I’d almost have done it for nothing, just to keep working at the farm. And what I’d seen of the Game itself, it all seemed pretty appealing …’

‘But …?’

‘Thanks, but no thanks, we’ve got our own people. And that was that! Paid off, just like that, after all my hard work. The passcard I handed in had probably been cancelled before I even left the building, and then I was out in the cold. I tried to get remote access to the system a couple of times but all the backdoors had been closed. Then I got a little warning message from the Game Master, and just like you, sadly I wasn’t smart enough to believe it …’

He took a couple of deep drags and slowly let the smoke out as he shook his head.

‘I was having serious trouble letting go of it all, it was my magnum opus. The best work I’d ever done, the sort of thing only a very few people in the world could have managed on their own and in such a short space of time. But I didn’t get any recognition at all for it, just thanks for the coffee and goodbye. I was so stupid that I kept on trying to find a way into the system. Maybe I was thinking that if I found some sort of problem, something that had gone wrong that I could fix, making it all work even better, then they’d realize that they needed me and let me back in again. That I was a force to be reckoned with! But there are never any comebacks. Once you’re out in the cold, they never let you back in!’

HP gulped.

That wasn’t the message he’d been hoping to hear.

‘So what happened?’ he asked, even though he’d already guessed the answer.

‘Suddenly I started to get problems. Installations I’d done elsewhere crashed, programs turned out to be riddled with viruses, and my customers went mad.

‘Then my bank account was blocked, and my phone and internet connections were cut off without any warning, as well as a load of other problems. I worked day and night to put everything right, but after a year or so my business was ruined. The same thing went for me, it was about then that I got ill.’

Erman was suddenly sounding tired.

‘So I left it all behind and vanished from the map. You won’t find me in any databases anywhere,’ he added happily. ‘I don’t really exist. No personal ID number, no bank account, loyalty cards or phone, electricity and water accounts. Completely out of sight of Big Brother!’

‘But how do you get it all to work, I mean, you must still need cash?’

‘You can sort anything if you really want to. It takes planning and work, but it’s possible. Don’t forget, it’s not that long since the internet was pure science fiction! I just do everything old-school, cash only and low tech. It works a lot better than you might think!’