The Eye of Minds

The KillSims. What they’d done to Ronika. How far had the creature gotten with Michael? Had some of his Aura’s essence been sucked out? How close had he come to being another brain-dead victim of Kaine? Had he suffered permanent physical damage? With his eyes closed and his skull throbbing, it sure felt like it. He worried that he was growing stupider by the minute—that he’d forget everything he’d learned and experienced inside the VirtNet.

He knew these thoughts were crazy, and he tried to stay positive. Hopefully they’d stopped the thing in time and his headache would slowly go away. He couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life feeling like he did.

But surprisingly, the pain in his head didn’t make him want to stop. It only made him hate Kaine and made him sure of what they were doing. He wouldn’t stop until they found the place the VNS was looking for. Threats or no threats, it was simple. Like many games Michael had played before, it was kill or be killed.

Except this time it was for real. And his headache didn’t let him forget it.

He didn’t get out of bed for a day and a half.

2

Two days after their rendezvous with Ronika, Michael’s head felt much better. He could get up and walk around, shower, even look out into the brightness of the morning without wanting to curl into a ball from the pain. Energized, his spirits lifted, he sat down in the Chair and called out for a private conversation with Bryson and Sarah on the Bulletin. They joined him within ten minutes.

Brystones: It’s about time. That nasty headache go away? Helga kiss you, make you all better? Ooh, never mind, don’t wanna picture that.

Sarahbobara: Bryson, you have free rein to say what you want because you saved us. You have about a week until I start being your mother again.

Brystones: Now, that I really don’t wanna think about.

Mikethespike: I was so worried that thing had done permanent damage to me. Still am, but at least it’s getting better. And I can speak and type without slobbering on myself.

Sarahbobara: Nice.

Brystones: So when are we gonna do this thing? Find the Path?

Sarahbobara: Sooner than later.

Michael breathed a sigh of relief—they were still in. Scared, maybe—just like him—but in. If anything, the gamer and his dogs had ignited a fire under them.

Michael and his friends went on to talk about school and how they’d manage their schedules. It didn’t take long to decide that a few “sick” days wouldn’t hurt anybody—at least, not as much as the VNS or Kaine would. The thought brought Ronika to mind, which gave Michael a pang of guilt. Maybe she was lying somewhere in the Wake, brain-dead, like the other victims who’d shown up. Maybe that was the whole point of the KillSims. But how was it all connected?

Sarah suggested they spend that day studying gamer reports on Devils of Destruction, the game in which Ronika had said they’d find the entrance to the Path. Maybe there’d be some clues about where to find this weak spot in the code. Then they’d get a good night’s rest.

When morning came, it’d be time to move.

3

Michael’s doorbell rang in the middle of the afternoon. He was immersed in researching Devils of Destruction. He knew it was a war game based on history—which was part of the reason mainly old people liked it. No one his age cared about something that happened years and years ago, but in order to get through it, Michael figured he had to know the details of the war. He’d spent the previous hour reading about the War of Greenland in 2022, where several nations fought a bloody battle over a massive vein of gold discovered there the year before. Everyone wanted it, of course, and they all had their reasons why they could claim the land. The details interested Michael more than he expected them to.

The factions in the war used guerrilla tactics and somewhat primitive weapons, because there were so many sides that using nuclear arms or big bombs was too dangerous. Weapons with a large blast radius would wipe out some of the enemy, but chances were you’d hit a few friendlies, also. It was a nasty battle that lasted for two years before enough senseless death occurred that everyone stood down. Brilliant world leaders at their best.

The Devils of Destruction were an actual group of mercenaries who fought during the War of Greenland, hired—sometimes by more than one side—to seek out specific targets and eliminate them. And that was what Michael and his friends would be doing in the game. Dropping into the heart of battle with nothing more than machine guns, hoping to find the trench Ronika mentioned before they got killed. Then hope their hacking skills proved their worth.

He ignored the doorbell when it first chimed—the research was far more fascinating than he’d thought it would be, and he wondered why he’d never actually given the game a shot. He assumed Helga would answer the door, but when it rang again he remembered she’d gone to visit her sister for the day.

Grumbling the whole way, Michael pressed his EarCuff to shut down the NetScreen and headed for the front door. When he pulled it open, he was surprised to find no one there. A chill ran down his spine—nothing seemed like simple happenstance now that he was involved in something so heavy. He looked up and down the hall and at the stairs, but didn’t see anything. He was just about to close the door and lock it tight when he noticed a note had been taped to the outside.

A short message had been handwritten on the small slip of paper:

Meet me in the alley where we picked you up. Now.

4

He didn’t have to think twice about doing as he’d been ordered. He knew it might be a trap, but the odds seemed slim. Kaine didn’t seem as dangerous in the real world—why not, Michael couldn’t say—and how would anyone else know where the VNS had picked him up that day? Then there was Agent Weber. The last thing he could afford to do was tick her off.

It only took twenty minutes for him to get there. He turned off the main road and walked down the long, deserted alley. There wasn’t a soul in sight—not even a car—but several large Dumpsters waited in the middle of the road, and something told Michael that was where he’d find the person he had to meet. It was hot outside, but there was a nice breeze that cooled the sweat on his neck. Loose pieces of trash blew past and danced in the air. The alley was gray and uninviting.

As he approached the first Dumpster, his heart picked up speed and he hesitated before finally peering around its side. He relaxed when he saw an extremely short bald man wearing a three-piece suit. The stranger wasn’t threatening. He had a full beard, which made his hairless dome look even more stark, and his hands were in his pockets.