DISCLAIMER – I do not own Stargate: Atlantis. It is the intellectual property of MGM/UA and associates. I am making no profit from the creation of this story. It is a work of fan fiction only, and no copyright infringement is intended.

RATING – This story is rated T

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A/N – I know I'm starting to sound repetitive now, but I really can't thank you guys enough for the excellent comments you've been posting for this story. I feel very encouraged by all the feedback I've been getting. Please keep it coming, because I love it!

I have no beta. If you spot any mistakes, blame them on me.

All Fun And Games

10. General Inquiries

"Cool," John said.

John was not surprised to see General O'Neill grin at him. "Yeah, it is pretty cool, isn't it?" said the general. "Betcha didn't expect the inside of your head to look like this, did you, Sheppard?"

"We're inside my head…sir?"

"Call me Jack. Yep, we're inside your head. Pretty spacious, though if you ask me, it could use some decoration."

The general gestured expansively, and before John's eyes, a very familiar Johnny Cash poster popped into existence on one of the walls. A skateboard and a set of golf clubs materialized next to the door. On the wall opposite the poster, a shelf coalesced, and on it sat the toy 'jumper from the Ancient room in Atlantis.

"Wow," John said, astounded. "How'd you do that, sir?"

"Hey, didn't I tell you to call me Jack?" the general said. "I'm not doing it. You are."

"I am?" John stared in amazement at his surroundings. "How am I doing it?"

Jack touched a finger to his forehead. "The Game is creating it from your thoughts. That's how The Game works. It uses your own thoughts to create the images you see within it."

"Really? What else can I create?" John thought about beanbag chairs, and two of them appeared. He imagined popcorn, and a huge bowl of it materialized on the floor between the two beanbags. John flopped into one of the chairs, and waved the general toward the second one. He said, "I think you'd better tell me everything you know about The Game."

"It could take a while," Jack said. "I know a lot about The Game. Where do you want to start?"

"Uh…without sounding too presumptuous, sir, why don't you start by telling me what the heck you're doing inside my head?"

Jack laughed. He settled himself in the other beanbag chair and helped himself to a handful of popcorn. "The person you think of as Jack O'Neill is not really here," he said. "You're creating me, just like everything else in this room. I'm the representation of your guide to The Game. Think of me as the user's manual."

"Okay," John said. He scooped a handful of popcorn from the bowl. The stuff was hot and buttery and tasted exceptionally good for a mere figment of his imagination. He chewed thoughtfully, and then addressed Jack again. "So, does the user's manual have a section on troubleshooting?"

"Troubleshooting?" Jack echoed.

"Yeah, you know. If there are problems with The Game, how do I get help?"

"I'm not aware of any problems with your session."

"Maybe I should fill you in," John said. "Out there in the real world, my friend Rodney is trapped in a device just like the one I'm using. Hell, for all I know, I might be trapped now, too. We don't know how to shut the machines off."

"You want to deactivate The Game?"

"I want to help my friend."

"Do you want to join a Game already in progress?"

"I can do that?"

"Sure," Jack said. "The Game in progress is on level two. When you pass the first level, you can join another player in the current Game."

John blew air between his teeth. He should have guessed there'd be some kind of catch. "Look," he said. "It's really important that I get to my friend and tell him how to exit The Game. Can't I just skip the first level?"

"No," Jack said.

"Why not?"

"Because that'd defeat the purpose of The Game."

"Of course it would," John said. "I don't suppose you can tell me what the purpose of The Game actually is, could you?"

The general gave him a puzzled look. "The purpose of The Game is to test intelligence, logical problem-solving, endurance, flight skills and weapons training."

Oh crap…

"It's a training simulator, isn't it? For soldiers."

"Ya think?" said the general.

"And what about all that stuff out there in the room? Those things are training tools, too, aren't they? And weapons?"

"I don't know anything about that."

Like hell you don't, John wanted to say. A cold, sick feeling began to creep through his insides when he thought about his friends out there in the real world. God alone knew what kind of danger they could be in, and not even realize it. Anything they touched might hurt them.

In fact, maybe something they'd touched had hurt them already. John thought about Itzhak and Radek acting irrational and scared, and came up with a vivid mental picture of each of them fiddling with the Ancient Rubik's Cube. Radek had assured John the cube wasn't a weapon, but just because the cubes Radek had found elsewhere in Atlantis weren't weapons, it didn't mean the Ancients were above making a weapon that looked exactly like them. What better way to hide something deadly than to disguise it as an innocuous everyday device?

John's head spun when that idea occurred to him. He had to exit The Game and tell Carson what he'd learned, but he also had to help Rodney. Weighing his choices, he decided it would be more efficient to exit the game and explain things to Carson first. He didn't know how long it might take to pass the first level and get to Rodney, and he didn't want to leave the others waiting and in potential danger while he took the time to play The Game long enough to find the Canadian.

He appraised Jack with a candid gaze. "Tell me something," he said. 'If I exit The Game now, will I be able to get back in here and speak to you again?"

"Sure," Jack said. "The Game stores all the data from your session."

"Great," John said. "I'm going to exit right now, but I'll be back."

"I'll be waiting," Jack said. "Right here. I'll save you some popcorn."

"Right…thanks," John said.

Virtual popcorn was the last thing on John's mind. As he concentrated on getting back to Atlantis, the room with the beanbag chairs and General O'Neill slowly began to fade.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hover! Rodney commanded the 'jumper.

At Rodney's instruction the little spacecraft glided to a stop and hung in midair in the middle of the tunnel. Rodney took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He needed to evaluate the situation and figure out what to do. Mini-Radek had told him under normal circumstances he'd be able to quit in the middle of a level, but because something was happening to The Game, he might not be able to do so now. Still, he reasoned, he had to try.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on leaving The Game. He pictured himself back in the Ancient toy room in Atlantis. He imagined the machine releasing him. He even conjured up a mental image of Sheppard playing with the toy 'jumpers.

"Rodney?"

"Not now, Radek! I'm trying to focus," Rodney said irritably. "In case you forgot, I really want to get out of here."

A small hand came to rest on Rodney's forearm and and even smaller one touched the back of his own hand. Rodney made a sound of exasperation and opened his eyes. He was still in the cockpit of the 'jumper. The two children were both staring at him, wide-eyed and frightened. Mini-Shadow's lower lip was trembling, and she looked as if she might imminently burst into tears.

"We're scared," mini-Radek said.

"This can't be happening to me," Rodney groaned. He peeled the toddler's sticky fingers off his hand and gave her an impatient look. "You can't be scared. You're artificial constructs. Now, go away and let me think."

The little girl began to whimper and her guileless chocolate-brown eyes filled with tears. Mini-Radek looked as if he wanted to cry, too, but apparently he was determined to be stoic in the face of his fear. He said, "This has never happened before."

"What hasn't happened before?" Rodney asked.

"Something isn't right."

"Yeah, I think we've already established that. Now, what we have to figure out is what isn't right. We need to—" He interrupted himself to direct another glare at mini-Shadow, whose whimpering had escalated into full-fledged sobbing. "Shadow, will you stop crying, already? You have no idea how annoying that is. The real Shadow wouldn't carry on like that."

"She's not—" mini-Radek began.

Rodney held up a hand. "I know. She's just a representation," he said. "Look, Radek, does The Game have any kind of troubleshooting features? You keep telling me something isn't right. Is there any way we can find outexactly what's wrong?"

The little boy nodded. "I think I can access the diagnostic program."

"Good," Rodney said. "Do it."

Mini-Radek closed his eyes, and his little face became intense, displaying his obvious mental effort. Rodney spared a moment to marvel at how much the computer generated boy reminded him of the real Radek. A moment was all he could spend on that particular musing, because the 'jumper began to dissolve around him and his small companions. Rodney had the distinct sensation of falling as his surroundings blurred. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Rodney scooped up mini-Shadow and held the sobbing toddler against himself. He felt mini-Radek's fingers close around his forearm. The boy's hand was trembling.

"I think I did it," mini-Radek said.

Yeah, Rodney wanted to say, I think you did it, all right, but I'm afraid to ask what it might be.

TBC
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