I do not own this, Ready Player One, Alien and references all belong to their respective owners.
I held the decapitated head of the battle droid in my hands, transfixed by the two dead optical sensors staring back at me. The quality was amazing. Even Halliday with his close, no neurotic, attention to detail would have tipped his hat to this craft work. I turned it in my hands, the chrome plating reflecting the aquamarine sky and orange desert sand in perfect clarity.
I poked my avatar's biomechanical forefinger into a scar on the chromed head and began to pull, feeling the resistance in my haptics. The dome-like remains groaned and split down the middle like a book, opening and exposing a labyrinth of smoking virtual circuits inside. Pinching the small round lens of the optics I felt the plastic-coating on the wire, I mean I actually felt the material compress and the friction on my skin. This was a credit not only to how far haptic feedback had improved, but also to the developers getting the most from the software.
"Whoa," I whispered to no-one, "most excellent."
I pulled the wires. Sparks shot from the circuit boards as it tore free guaranteeing this unit would broadcast no further intel. to its command.
"Rebel scum," I said letting it drop to the floor where the impact made the sand bounce onto my clawed feet. I stamped on it, feeling it crunch under my feet and buried it into the smooth sand forever. Well, until the game timer ran out in six hours.
"Survey." I said, and my view began a 360 degree rotation as the drone-avatar I was controlling spun its head a round. This was a unique feature to this combat simulation and a handy function that was impossible in a standard VR headsets, unless of course you were Linda Blair in The Exorcist. Projectile vomiting optional.
"Heat map." The lifeless sand and sky became a vibrant contrast of colours where the extreme heat of the sand now displayed as white and red, interrupted with intermittent blue shapes of the destroyed enemy units. The heat-mapping made my job of locating semi-functioning enemies a lot easier, their oil-cooled bodies fresh from the fight hadn't yet had time to be heated by the desert sun.
Among the blue piles of metal entrails I could see the green outlines of other drones against the white and red landscape, the rest of my Company. Their distinctive elongated head mounted on a body that walked on four legs, a long tail flowing out behind them and ending with a murderous spike. Yeah, for those of you that haven't caught up yet; I was piloting a GSS-XX121 Search n' Destroy - a Xenomorph.
SSSSSSsomebody stop me.
I was part of the advance testing group of GSS's - still under development - top-secret MMO combat sim, one of the perks of owning the biggest company in the world. More on that later.
A compass in my view told me the scan had completed 270 degrees when suddenly my vision went completely green and something hit the side of my head. Thankfully, the feedback from the haptics in my headset were reduced, because whatever, or whoever had hit me knocked my Xeno off its feet leaving me staring up at the perfect blue sky and the snarling face of the greatest killing machine known to fiction, complete with acid-drool dripping on me. Dan O'Bannon we salute you.
It spoke.
"Any of you boys seen an aircraft-carrier around here?"
Then it smiled and tipped it's head back, convulsing with laughter. Even Private Hudson might have cried less if he'd seen that joke.
"Jesus Aech, you nearly KO-ed me. You moof-milker," I said, wiping drool from my face.
"Hey," he said as he calmed down, snorting a little, "who do you think you are Paul Atreides? Stop Duning out here and get on with your job before the game resets. You might be the second richest person in the world, but you still gotta pull your weight, Noob."
Aech's Xenomorph (or Xeno or Xenodrone as they were better known - don't mention the word 'copyright') pulled me to my feet.
"Either we find that Phy-bot and get the hell out of Dodge, or Dodge coughs us up like a slimey loogey," he said.
"Ok, ok," I waved my hands, "I just can't get over the detail of this place, I mean, it's amazing. And I own it. I didn't make it, but I own it."
"Ahem," Aech's tone was clear.
"Sorry, we, own it. Wait a moment," in my haptic suit I stood up straight, then in a formal tone I said, "heat map off." My vision returned to normal and Aech's Xeno turned from green to the metallic blues and greys of a real Xenomorph. Or at least, a real digital version of the skull-splitting death-machine. You get what I mean.
"Z, you really gotta upskill man, are you sure you're the guy who won history's greatest easter egg hunt? After the Holy Grail I mean?"
"I fart in your general direction," I said in a well-rehearsed french accent. We giggled like children, remembering the fun we'd had crushing the colossal douchebag Sorrento and his IOI minions in the final round of the Halliday's quest.
"Come on Z, let's find that Phy-bot, get the intel., complete the mission, and get back to the developer's meeting."
"Developer's meeting," I said, "gee, let me think."
"Hey freeloader. You know you're my boy, but you got the focus capacity of a Mynock. Get on with the mission." He turned his back and started trotting back to the Company.
"Arrggggh." I cried, fanning my face with my hand like amateur theatre.
Without turning, Aech said, "tell me that my insult's just a flesh wound, and I swear I'll KO you myself."
I crouched my Xeno to begin another scan and mumbled, "it's just flesh…" But I didn't get to finish my sentence.
A mountain of chrome and hydraulics filled my viewport while a white noise of actuators buzzing and metal grinding filled my headphones. I looked up into the blood-red opticals of a Phy-2000 series, its shadow blotting out the sun and my tiny Xenodrone frozen in position.
It was huge. Imagine Denver the Dinosaur picking a fighting with Dino-Riders - and I'm the sucker in pink shades. It stared down at me, not moving.
Who was going to move first?
Whatever the programmers were drinking when they put the fight probabilities together, let's just say it must have been banned in nine countries. How in the name of Odin did I stand a chance against this?
In my comms, I barely heard Aech over the sound coming from the Phy-20000, "Z, what did I tell you I'm gonna…" then he paused, "by the power of Grayskull. Oh, it is on!"
I didn't have to wait any longer to see who would move first.
It lurched forward, it's huge polished metal hands close to its knees readying for an uppercut. And I just stood there motionless, frozen in awe.
"Z, get your sh…" I heard Aech shout, but the rest of it got lost in the noise. Finally my thoughts cleared and I felt that old familiar friend adrenalin kick in.
It was on, like Red Dawn.
"Evade leap right!" I shouted. The Xeno reacted immediately, but it was too late.
The brute didn't falter as its fist connected and launched me skyward, a cycle of blue and orange filling my vision as I spun violently. I felt the landing, the haptics zapping me with buzzes and shakes all over my body as I rolled across the desert floor.
When I finally stopped all I could see was perfect sky before two huge silver hands clasped together ready to come crashing down on my face.
"Roll left." I shouted, and the world spun again in my vision.
"Squat," I shouted, "ready. Face primary target." The Xeno completed a routine leaving me back on my feet.
My vision was filled with error messages and damage updates, I swiped them away waiting for the right moment. The Phy-bot raised its hands for another Hulk smash, it was sure to KO me on this mission.
This was it, I had to time it perfectly.
"Evade leap back," the Xeno responded immediately as I catapulted into a perfect leap and narrowly avoided its two huge hands that impacted heavily in the sand where I'd just been.
"Face primary target," I shouted, and I spun around imperceptibly quickly. The metal mountain was a little distance away now. It's size was terrifying, outperforming me in strength and reach. It would reduce me to digital scraps before Aech and the Company got anywhere close. The only advantage I had was speed and agility; and maybe the six-foot, razor-sharp blade attached to my rear end. Perfect for making a shish-kebab out of android, just ask Bishop.
I squeezed my hands in the haptics, trying to keep calm.
"Lerooooooooooy!" I yelled and started pumping my arms and legs as my Xeno sprinted towards the Phy-bot.
I needed to time this perfectly, needed to focus and make this one count or Aech would never let me forget it. I bet he was recording my potential blunder ready to post as soon as he could.
The Phy-bot had corrected itself after its failed Hulk smash and I could see it starting towards me for another uppercut.
Time slowed as I calculated the precise moment to make the next command.
"Leap forward," I said surprising myself with my sudden composure. My Xeno leapt high into the air on a perfect arc towards the lug's head. The Phy-bot stared uselessly into the inevitable.
"Tailstrike." My tail curled underneath my body with split second timing, the spike glinting in the sun as it pointed towards its target.
The last thing the enemy saw was my tail right on target and splitting the head like a ripe melon, ensuring the Phy-2000 was decommissioned for good.
I clung to the two halves of the cleaved face, riding the defunct droid all the way to the floor before I jumped clear at the last minute to land perfectly on the sand. One hand, one knee - superhero style.
And everything was silent again.
"Ska-doosh," I breathed, my chest still heaving from the encounter, my voice unable to disguise my huge grin.
"Report Sector 426. Confirm core terminated," I said calmly.
"Check that," a voice came back, "Round one complete. Join up with Alpha- Company and prepare for immediate evac. Congratulations Weyland One."
End of Chapter one.
Written 15/09/2021