the Fat Man. ‘We are the Designers’ children. The entities chosen to maintain the system they designed. The perfect system, with perfect boundaries and perfect rules, which you have violated.’
The Prime Maintainer closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side. The Fat Man's image disappeared off all the screens except the main one, replaced by strings of numbers and symbols streaming across at incredible speeds. Needles flickered erratically on gauges. Indicators fluctuated up and down. The Fat Man's face began to fade from the main screen. The banging from outside seemed to weaken.
‘ACTIVATING COUNTER MEASURES STOP’ said Maintainer 102, as his hands sped over the controls before him. ‘ALL HAIL THE FAT MAN STOP’
The Fat Man's image solidified on the main screen. The numbers and symbols scrolling across the other screens slowed. The banging resumed with renewed vigour.
The Prime Maintainer's brow furrowed with concentration as beads of sweat began to form. He tilted his head from one side to the other. The numbers and symbols sped up again. Maintainer 102’s hands were a blur over the controls.
‘We has gotta do somethin’,’ said Zyra, drawing one of her knives.
‘I think we should stay out of this,’ said the princeling. ‘Leave it to the Prime Maintainer.’
‘Yeah, rights,’ she scoffed, striding over to the chair and suddenly plunging her knife into Maintainer 102’s shoulder.
The knife slid in without resistance. There was a crackle of unseen energy and Zyra was thrown back across the room, crashing to the floor.
‘Ya alrights?’ asked Tark, rushing to her side.
She looked up, shaking her head, just in time to see her beloved knife dissolve into static. ‘Yeah.’
With a loud bang and the sound of rending metal, a metallic spider's leg tore through the wall behind them. At that moment, the Fat Man's face again filled all the screens. Laughter boomed from every speaker.
The Prime Maintainer's eyes snapped open. In two steps, he was behind Maintainer 102. He swiftly brought his arm up then down in a karate style motion to the back of the maintainer's neck. The fingers of the Prime Maintainer's hand plunged into the flesh of Maintainer 102’s neck. The seated man's eyes widened, his hands froze over the controls, then he dissolved into static.
‘Maintainer 102 has been neutralised,’ announced the Prime Maintainer.
‘You're too late,’ said the Fat Man. ‘The system is mine. I
The Prime Maintainer's hands skimmed the keyboard.
‘This is impossible,’ he said uncertainly.
‘He's taken over, hasn't he?’ said Zyra.
‘Yes,’ admitted the Prime Maintainer. His hands fell away from the controls and he turned to face Zyra.
‘So he controls all the games?’ asked the princeling.
‘Not quite,’ said the Prime Maintainer. ‘He has control of the system, but the environments are vast and numerous. It will take him some time yet to have complete power.’
‘But I will,’ interjected the Fat Man. ‘Very soon. Then all the environments will collapse into one world, which I shall dominate. There will be no more games, no more quests and challenges, except in worship of me.’
‘That is an abomination,’ said the Prime Maintainer. ‘The purpose of Designers Paradise is to provide environments with boundaries in which to quest and challenge and strive. That is the legacy of the Designers.’
‘A legacy that is no more,’ said the Fat Man.
‘Ain'ts there somethin’ ya can do?’ asked Tark.
The Prime Maintainer shook his head, confused.
‘Don't you have some sort of plan to deal with an emergency like this?’ asked the princeling.
‘A situation such as this was never foreseen,’ explained the Prime Maintainer.
‘Hangs on,’ said Zyra, a spark in her eyes. ‘If he's in the Designers Paradise system, a part of it — ’
‘Oh, I'm so much more than that,’ interjected the Fat Man.
‘Well, if he's the system, can'ts ya just, ya know, turns it off?’
The Prime Maintainer's eyes widened, true fear entering them for the first time.
‘Well?’ asked Tark, eagerness in his voice.
‘No,’ whispered the Prime Maintainer. ‘That would be … unprecedented.’
‘Yes, well, the Fat Man
‘Only the Designers can shut down and restart the system,’ said the Prime Maintainer with certainty. ‘No control or procedure for such an operation has been provided to the Maintainers. It is not as if I can just flick a switch.’
‘Well then,’ said Zyra, ‘just pulls the plug!’
‘Yeah,’ added Tark. ‘Cut the power.’
‘It's not that simple,’ explained the Prime Maintainer. ‘If I were to circumvent the controls and cut the power, as you say … I … I'm not entirely sure what would happen. If the system were to be switched off, even for a few seconds, everything would probably revert to default settings.’
‘Wot does that means?’ asked Tark.
‘All environments would revert to their original parameters. All upgrades would be lost. Entities would return to their environment of origin. Accumulated assets and Designers Paradise accounts would be lost. All quests and challenges would need to begin again. Everything would be as it was in the beginning.’
‘And all trace of the Fat Man woulds be wiped from the system?’ asked Zyra.
‘Well. Yes. Probably.’
‘Then do it!’ demanded Zyra.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Tark.
‘All the money I've put into my Designers Paradise account would be gone?’ asked the princeling. ‘And my position as princeling? All the planning? All the assassinations? Gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who cares?’ Tark blurted.
‘You can't get rid of me that easily,’ said the Fat Man. But there was a worried look in his piggy eyes.
The metallic spider forced its leg further through the tear in the wall. The appendage flailed about, knocking into screens and controls, tangling in wires. Tark, Zyra and the princeling retreated to the opposite end of the room, next to the Prime Maintainer.
‘Do it!’ said Zyra. ‘Please!’
‘I'm … I'm not sure,’ stuttered the Prime Maintainer. ‘There could be other effects.’
‘Will we still have our memories?’ asked the princeling.
‘I don't know,’ said the Prime Maintainer.
‘Wot abouts the rules?’ asked Tark, glancing over at Zyra. ‘Will the rules be the same? Will we still not be allowed — ’
‘The rules will remain,’ said the Prime Maintainer, seemingly pleased to have found a certainty to cling to. ‘They are part of the original design. They are constant. Without rules, there would be anarchy. Without observance of the rules, there would be uncontrolled change. The Fat Man has transgressed and look what has happened. Everything is falling apart.’
They all jumped as the spider forced another leg through the tear. With two legs in the room, it was able to rip apart an entire section of wall. It screeched in triumph.
‘Well, ya is about to lose all ya rules,’ shouted Zyra.
‘There will be new rules,’ said the Fat Man. ‘My rules!’
The spider forced it head, jaws gaping, into the control room.
‘No,’ said the Prime Maintainer. ‘There are only the Designers’ rules. They must be maintained, at all costs. I must maintain. That is my function.’
He got down on his knees before the main control panel. For a moment, Zyra thought that he was about to pray to it, but instead, he slid back the front metal panel.
‘Reboot,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘Restore the environments so that the rules may be obeyed once more. So that harmony returns.’
A coil of sticky metallic web shot from the spider's open maw, catching the Prime Maintainer's foot. Like a
