All Bets Are Off
Chapter 1: The Race
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"The Grid; a digital frontier. I tried to picture clusters of information as they moved through the computer. What did they look like? Chips? Motorcycles? Were the circuits like freeways? I kept dreaming of a world I thought I'd never see. And then one day, I got in." -The Creator, Kevin Flynn
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The battle arena was more alive than ever. Programs had flocked across the grid to witness the greatest race of the current megacycle. The stands surrounding the arena were glowing with neon-blue crowds. There was an energy that charged the arena, and it wasn't electricity. It was the energy of the crowd. It was the thirst for pixels that filled the air. No one would be disappointed tonight.
Jiro6-2-12, known as Jiro by his most, sat and watched the stands from his private box. A waitress walked around his chair with a glowing plate.
"Would you like a drink sir?" she asked. Her voice had been programmed with just the right mixture of reproachfulness and respect.
"Not now," Jiro said with a wave of his hand. "They're too many things requiring my attention." The waitress turned and left without making a sound.
From his seat, Jiro could spot his prized racer, Tanner, down on the field. Tanner was stretching and priming his circuits for the night's race. Tanner better be getting ready, thought Jiro, anxiously. Jiro was Tanner's benefactor, or at least that was what Jiro called himself. In reality, Jiro used Tanner to win memory-bets, but reality can be a scarce commodity on the Grid.
Tanner's life was at stake each race, but Jiro was running the same risks. If Tanner was to fail, Jiro would lose practically all the memory he had. He would be reduced to a mere two gigabytes. Most of his processing functions would simply shut down. You had to play big at the arena. Jiro had played particularly big tonight. He had made the largest bet of his life.
A clock on suspended above the field was silently ticking down. Its orange digits cast shadows in the stand. Jiro panned his eyes over the crowd to ease him mind. Everything he saw was stored in a temporary memory file. He could view it all later. That was if he won the bet.
Jiro could see fans pushed into the small of the arena seats; very few programs had private boxes like him. Among the crowd, small bits of data were being swapped through glowing hands. The last minute bidding period was still going.
Jiro tried to look away from it all. Perhaps he should have taken a drink. It would have calmed his circuits. Above the field, a brilliant flare exploded in the night sky. One minute until the race. On the field, the racers had all stopped stretching. Silence began to spread over the crowds. Suddenly, CLU's voice boomed over the loudspeakers:
"I am glad you have all come here tonight. None of you will leave disappointed," the voice filled all of the stands.
"Before we begin the games tonight, I have one thing to say," he paused, then continued dramatically. "May the best program win!"
His last words echoed across the arena, and perhaps the entire Grid as well. CLU raised his hand, and ten-thousand programs held their breath. The hand remained suspended in air for a moment, and then it dropped down.
"Go!"
Down on the field, the racers began to sprint towards the center. Tanner could feel his suit stretch as he lunged into the air with his baton. From under him, a light bike materialized. At first it was only a frame, and then the pedals and grips formed. With a crash of sparks, the bikes landed on the grid. The game had begun.
As the racers began to pick up speed, a bright orb flashed in the middle of the field. Inside of it was an extra baton. The first racer to reach the orb could collect the baton. Tanner gunned his engine; Jiro held his breath.
If Jiro had owned a heart, it would've been racing. Instead, he could feel his disk radiating heat into his back. Tanner crossed the middle line, grabbing the baton. At that moment, derezzing fields activated behind all of the racers. Jrio watched as Tanner's blue trail cut an orange racer off. The orange biker collided head on with the wall of data and instantly exploded into a cluster of pixels. The crowd stood up in the seats, screaming and yelling. A racer had never been taken out so early in the game!
Tanner couldn't hear the roar of the crowds. Instead, he concentrated on the field ahead of him; looking for other racers trying to cut him off. With his left hand, Tanner activated the second baton into a sword. This time he could hear the excitement of the crowds.
Tanner spun his bike towards the center of the field. From behind him, he heard a light cycle approaching. Tanner took a quick look over his shoulder. He was being followed by a green bike. Tanner tried weaving back and forth to shake the other biker. His trail wobbled behind him. The green cyclist merely sped up until he and Tanner were running side by side. In a violent lash, Tanner stuck out with his sword. He managed to nick the other bike, throwing a shower of sparks into the night air. The crowd roared. They were hungry for more pixels.
Again, Tanner struck with the light-sword and there were even more sparks. A few flashed into Tanner's eyes. Tanner reached out to strike the other bike for a third time. This time, the bike was gone! At that exact moment, the green biker crashed down on Tanner's back. Tanner tried to throw his assailant off, but he couldn't steer at the same time! Tanner felt a strong boot on his back, and the next thing he knew, he was falling through the air.
Jiro watched from above as Tanner was smeared into a collection of pixels below. How could that have happened? Tanner was the best racer on the Grid! Jiro whirled around, trying to get out of the room. He felt a pang from his disk.
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The crowds were screaming. Programs spilt their drinks and dropped neon bags of peanuts as they stood up in astonishment. Jiro, confused, scanned the room around him. Where was he? What had just happened? The arena was going insane! A scoreboard was showing reruns of a blue racer being kicked off his bike. Who was the racer?
Calm hands gently gripped Jiro from behind. He tried to spin around, but the hands grabbed him tighter.
"Wait! Stop, let go!" he yelled as he wheeled around. He was being dragged out of the room by two security guards.
"What are you doing? Where am I?" Jiro was screaming now. The visors of the guards gave him no emotion. As they dragged Jiro out of the room, his boots desperately slipped on the crystal floor.
Outside the private box, Jiro was pulled through the arena's halls by the guards. Vendor programs looked up from their glowing hot dogs and stared as he yelled out profanities. From the stands, a surge of people was filling the hall. This would be Jiro's only chance to escape. Across a throng of people, he spotted a lift open. Squeezing out of the guards' grips, Jiro dashed into the crowd. Behind him, Jiro could hear the guards yelling above the noise. He felt hands grab at him from the crowd, but he kept moving. Right before the lift doors closed, he slipped in. The lift was empty.
Jiro sank to the floor, panting for breath. He had no clue what those guards had wanted. There must have been some mistake!, he thought. Whatever the case was, it would be best for him to get someplace safe. The guards might have been trying to derezz him, or worse, make him play in the games.
From his gut, Jiro felt the lift slowing down. The doors opened. He stood up and strode out into the open. The lift had deposited him at one of the entrances to the arena. Across the pavilion, Jiro spotted the guards racing down a flight of stairs. Without wasting a second, he sprinted towards the exit. The program collecting tickets didn't stop him. Jiro felt smooth pavement beneath his feet and the dark sky above his head. He was free, for now at least.