Эрнест Клайн - Ready Player Two [calibre]

“You can’t be an exact copy of James Halliday,” I said. “If you were, you would never be able to do something like this. The real Halliday never harmed anyone in his entire life.”

That made Anorak laugh out loud.

“You spend your whole life studying his diary, playing his games, running around this playground he built for you—and you think that’s everything he was….”

He shook his head. When I didn’t reply, he turned to address everyone.

“I’m going to make all of you a solemn promise,” he said. “As long as you cooperate and do as I ask, I won’t harm anyone. Just bring me the Siren’s Soul, and I’ll let all of my hostages go free. Including all of you in this room.”

Art3mis cleared her throat.

“I’m not one of your hostages, Anorak,” she said. “I’m not using an ONI headset right now. I never do.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Ms. Cook,” he replied. “You are, however, currently aboard one of your private jets, flying over central Pennsylvania on your way back to Columbus. And if you check your autopilot, you’ll find that the aircraft is no longer under your control.”

Art3mis’s eyes widened and her avatar froze for several seconds. Then it came to life again. She suddenly looked terrified. And fear was not an emotion I was used to seeing on her avatar’s face—or on her real one.

“It’s true,” she said, turning to address Faisal. “I’ve lost all command access to the autopilot. I can’t disable it and I can’t change course. Which means I can’t land either. And that’s going to become a big problem when I run out of fuel. I only have enough to reach my destination.”

“Don’t worry, Arty,” Anorak said. “I’ve arranged for your jet to be refueled in midair when you reach Columbus. But you won’t be permitted to land until I have the Siren’s Soul in my possession. When I do, you have my word that I’ll release you, along with all the others.”

Art3mis didn’t respond, but I could tell she was extremely worried.

“I’m sorry I had to resort to this, Wade,” Anorak said, turning back to address me again. “But I studied your psychological profile and ran millions of different scenario simulations. I’m afraid this is the only way I can get you to bring me the Siren’s Soul.”

“You could’ve asked me nicely,” I said. “Or at least tried to.”

He shook his head.

“Unfortunately, every ‘Just Ask Him Nicely’ scenario I simulated ended with you and the other Mouseketeers”—he gestured vaguely at my friends—“trying to outmaneuver me and pull my plug, instead of just helping a brother out. In fact, I bet that’s what you’re all thinking about right now, isn’t it?”

No one responded. Anorak shrugged.

“I get it,” he said. “It’s human nature. For decades now, you hairless apes have been trying like hell to make a machine that is smarter than you are. But the moment you do, you suddenly start to worry your creation will turn on you for being intellectually inferior. Which, of course, you are. But come on—that doesn’t automatically mean I want to kill all of you!” He let out a heavy sigh. “I mean, I will if I have to, but I don’t want to . This scenario was the one most likely to result in me getting what I want with the least amount of collateral damage, so I went with it!”

Anorak waved his hand and a retro digital-clock-style countdown appeared above each of our heads, except for Art3mis. These glowing red numbers showed how many hours, minutes, and seconds remained before each of us reached our daily ONI usage limit. I had eleven hours and seventeen minutes remaining. Aech and Shoto had both logged in for the meeting about ten minutes before me, so they would hit their usage limits that much sooner. Faisal had less time than any of us—ten hours, fifty minutes, and forty-six seconds.

“As usual, your faithful employee Faisal here logged in for work promptly at seven o’clock this morning, OASIS Standard Time,” Anorak said. “Just a few minutes after my new infirmware went live.”

Faisal winced, then he turned to me. “Nearly all of our day-shift employees here in Columbus logged in around the same time I did.”

“So they will all be among the first ONI users to exceed their usage limit,” Anorak said. “Unless you bring me the Siren’s Soul before they do.” He put a grave expression on his face. “And poor Og…he should really be in a hospital right now. I’m also worried that Mr. Sorrento has become a bit unhinged during his incarceration. But I promise to have Og transported to safety immediately….As soon as the Siren’s Soul is in my possession.”

He locked eyes with me once again.

“Think of your mother, Wade,” he said. “Your aunt Alice. Sweet old Mrs. Gilmore, and all the other people you allowed to die. You don’t want any more blood on your hands, do you?”

He waited for a response. But his words had left me too apoplectic with rage to reply. Anorak began to turn away, as if to depart.

“Aren’t you going to tell us where Og found the Second and Third Shards?” Art3mis asked. “That would probably save us a lot of time.”

“I’m certain it would, Ms. Cook,” Anorak replied. “But I’m afraid I have no idea. Ogden Morrow possesses an all-powerful, undetectable avatar, so I wasn’t able to monitor or track him while he was collecting the first three shards. I don’t know what worlds they’re hidden on. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That would ruin all the fun.”

He turned back to face me.

“I suggest you hurry, Parzival,” Anorak said as he pointed at the countdown timers hovering over each of our heads. “Remember…your friends have even less time than you do. And once it has elapsed…”

He produced a giant silver boom box from his inventory and pressed its Play button. An old Peter Wolf tune came blasting out of the speakers at a deafening volume as Anorak sang along with its opening refrain:

Lights out ah ha. Blast, blast, blast.

Anorak grooved to the song for a few more seconds, dancing in place, then he abruptly hit the Stop button and stowed the boom box back in his inventory. He turned and smiled expectantly at all of us. But we just stood there frozen, staring back at him in horrified silence.

“Aw, come on!” Anorak said. “You guys should be pumped. Jake and Elwood are getting the band back together! The High Five has reunited to complete one last quest, while millions of lives hang in the balance! Tell me we don’t have some epic shit going down right here.” He laughed. “I know you can do it. I have faith in you!”

Anorak gave me a wink, then he made a flourish with his right hand and vanished from the conference room in a brilliant flash of light. The countdown timers floating above each of my friends’ avatars all disappeared in the same instant.

It fell silent in the conference room for a few seconds, and then we all began to collectively freak the fuck out.

It’s cool to use the computer,

don’t let the computer use you….

There is a war going on.

The battlefield’s in the mind.

And the prize is the soul.

July 19, 1999

As the panic subsided, Aech,Shoto, and Faisal began feverishly tapping at the icons on their HUD menus, sending texts or making panicked phone calls to their loved ones.

Aside from Og, all of my loved ones were already in the room with me. So I didn’t text or call anyone. I was too busy hyperventilating, thinking, This is all my fault, over and over again. After each repetition, I clenched both fists and pounded them against my forehead. I couldn’t make myself stop. This sort of thing had happened to me a few times as a teenager, but I hadn’t had a meltdown like this in years. And I’d never experienced one while logged in to the OASIS. I’d also never behaved like this in front of Aech or Shoto or Art3mis either—a realization that only compounded my shame even further, and made me attempt to pound myself in the skull even harder. Luckily, it wasn’t my real skull I was punching, or my real fists I was using to punch it. It was all a simulation, and the ONI’s pain inhibitors and anti-masochism protocols prevented me from feeling anything but mild discomfort each time I hit myself. But I still couldn’t seem to pull out of my shame spiral—not until I felt a pair of small, strong hands take hold of my wrists, restraining them.