Gameprey

“Elves!” someone cried.

“The world,” Peter went on, “is filled with dozens of races, all of them equipped with their own history, their own economic and environmental needs. There are physical talents, skills, and magic you can learn. You can be a warrior, a bard, a historian, or a mage. And all of those races and abilities are as evenly weighted as I can make them.”

The viewpoint sailed above the trees, cutting through the green sky. The red and the blue suns shined. A diamond-bright river wound through the heart of the forest.

“The water is the key to everything in the realm,” Peter said. “So many people’s lives depend on the rivers, streams, and oceans that are in this world. Water is a thing of mysticism and power.”

The viewpoint scanned down to a fishing village, then to an old man dressed in animal skins sitting cross- legged on the bank of the river. A dozen small children sat around him, their faces obviously enraptured. The old man stuck his hand into the water and drew it back. A shiny tendril of river water followed the hand out, twisting inquisitively. Then the tendril rolled into a ball that floated between the old man’s hands. Images formed in the watery depths.

“You can explore and interact with small villages,” Peter went on, “or you can journey to vast civilized areas.”

The viewpoint hurtled across the sky again, then focused on a towering city carved from the side of a mountain. Roads twisted and ran through the buildings. Horsemen rode down the thoroughfares amid strangely shaped buggies pulled by large, wingless birds and huge lizards.

“You’ll be called on to help kings,” Peter said, “or you can aid those not so fortunate.”

The viewpoint locked on a ragged beggar seated in the mouth of an alley filled with slithering shadows and hungry red eyes.

“You can live a totally alien experience.” Peter smiled. “At least, as alien as I’ve been able to make it.”

Images of creatures seemingly made of mud slithered through dank riverbanks under the water. Long millipedes the color of rainbows suddenly attacked the mud creatures, coring through them or tearing them to bits. Other mud creatures battled the millipedes, using iridescent pieces of shell that shot out white-hot beams.

“You can protect, or you can pillage,” Peter said.

The sea blurred by, then a wooden submarine came into focus. It floated at the top of the waterline, obviously stalking the merchant ship racing the wind ahead. Suddenly a hatch opened, revealing a being with black chitinous hide. Its eyes sat on stalks, and its face was totally inhuman.

Peter paced, smiling proudly, his own eyes drawn to the holos. “You can build—”

Men and women struggled in an arctic wilderness, using hatchets, hammers, and chisels to punch holes into mountains of ice. Others fed campfires and turned spits of meat, all of them struggling to stay warm and alive. Suddenly the ice beneath them split and a huge whalelike creature surged high into the air.

“—or you can search abandoned cities.”

Torch-lit shadows shifted across the interior of a collapsed building. The dulled sheen of beaten gold drew the eye, holding the promise of treasures yet to come.

Abruptly the holo images faded, leaving a ghost in the air for a moment. Then it was gone, too. And Maj knew there wasn’t a person in the room who wasn’t wanting to see more.

“It’s a whole world,” Peter promised. “A place of huge potential for gamers who love the wonderment of exploration, the thrill of battle, and detailed civilization. It’s a game that I created, and one that I still enjoy adventuring in.”

Conversation broke into dozens of pockets as the audience started talking excitedly.

“When is the game going on sale?” one of the reporters asked.

Peter waved to the booth. “Sign-up packages will be available as soon as we open the doors.”

“What about sales over the Net?”

“Those will be available, too.”

Lines started to form at the two doors Maj could see. She couldn’t blame them. The view she’d gotten of the world the night before had only been the tip of the iceberg.

“You play this game?” the reporter asked.

Peter grinned bashfully. “Every day. I don’t know if I’m admitting to gluttony or pride here, but anything that feels this good has got to be some kind of sin.”

Another wave of laughter went through the crowd.

“When do we get a chance to play?” a girl in the front row asked.

“Actually, Eisenhower Productions was a little reluctant about letting anyone online until it was completely finished,” Peter said.

“Why?” Dunn asked sarcastically. “Do they think it may impact the sales potential by showing that the world interaction isn’t quite as good as you make it sound?”

“Actually,” Peter said, “no. Even at this point players can join up on the game and run through a small adventure.”

“Good,” Dunn said. “Then maybe we can find out exactly how limited this game is before anyone starts paying for it.”

Peter shook his head and looked at the reporter. “It’s too late for that. Pre-orders for Realm of the Bright Water have already set new records.”

The crowd cheered, then started chanting, demanding access to the game.

Peter returned to the middle of the stage. “What we’re going to do now is give you a slight peek into this world.”

The small group of businessmen who’d walked in with Peter started forward. Maj tried to read their expressions, but all she saw was concern, and no reason at all for it to be there. What’s going on?

Peter stretched his right hand high into the air. Silver glitter splashed all around him, so thick it became a mist. Steel hardened in his fist, becoming a broadsword that splintered the light. In the next instant, silver armor covered him from head to toe.

It is him! Maj thought. As politely as she could, she started pushing her way through the crowd.

“Shut him down!”

Coiled up deep in Peter Griffen’s veeyar, Gaspar barely heard Heavener’s cold voice. He gazed around the veeyar, trying to orient himself. Griffen’s private veeyar was huge, the biggest that Gaspar had ever been in. Even this one was larger than most personal systems.

“I’m working on it,” Gaspar replied, taking long strides down the corridor. The veeyar was built like a huge warehouse, filled with long glass tubes wrapped by red and yellow electricity.

Gaspar accessed his search utility menu and made his selections. He opened his left hand and stabbed two fingers of his right hand into his palm. He pulled his fingers back out, trailing three crimson wires out of his arm that were yards long. He whipped the wires forward, and they assumed a life of their own.

Animated, oozing like they were made of oil, the wires slid through the warehouse, seeking out the databases Gaspar had programmed them to look for. He ran after them to keep up.

The three wires stabbed into different tubes. The connections flared as they were made. He grabbed the three wires and stabbed them into his left eye, linking up with the connections.

Images exploded into his mind. Bits of coding drifted in and out of his vision as scenes from the convention center overlapped vidclips from the Realm of the Bright Waters. The pain was incredible, and the difficulty in sorting out the coding he needed to allow him to shut the game down was almost impossible.

He built datastrings in his mind, kicking them into the stream that flowed through his vision. Tiny golden bugs formed on the datastrings, quickly chewing through the additions and striving to protect the primary coding. They were part of the antivirus program Griffen had installed on his system. Gaspar hadn’t quite figured out how to get rid of the antivirus, but gaps appeared in the coding.

In the convention center he watched as Peter Griffen’s armor encased him. Gaspar concentrated on writing code, trying to increase the size of the gaps and trigger a system failure.

“Hey, watch it!”

Maj planted an elbow in the guy’s back ahead of her and used his movement to turn around at her to glide by