Free The Games by Ted Kosmatka Page A

a game programmer for an indy company that made VR games. They were small but growing.
    “So when are you and I going hunting again? I haven’t been replaced by a younger partner, have I?” Jeff asked.
    “I got to be honest with you. Part of the reason I took the time to come up here now is because I know things are going to get nuts at the lab soon. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to get away.”
    “How long?”
    “Might be after the Olympics.”
    Jeff looked properly sympathetic. “That’s ten months. Are things going that bad?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What’s the problem?”
    “Pro blems ,” Silas stressed. “It would be easier to tell you all the things that are right. With any luck, you can see it for yourself at the Olympics.”
    Jeff smiled. “I can, huh? You wouldn’t mean in person, would you?”
    “I would, indeed.” He pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket. “Three tickets. Second row.”
    Eric howled in the background. Another steaming plate of food was lowered to the table. “Eat,” Ashley said to the boy. His father pulled a chair out for him.
    “Have you told Silas about your shrine?”
    “It’s not a shrine,” Eric said emphatically.
    Jeff turned to Silas. “He’s keeping a scrapbook of every article that’swritten about the gladiator event. If your name’s in it, he cuts it out and puts it in a folder. And you’ve seen his collection of action figures, right?”
    “Da aaaad .”
    Silas had known, of course, that past gladiators had been turned into a line of toys, but he hadn’t realized his nephew collected them.
    “Don’t be embarrassed,” Jeff said.
    The boy shot his father a withering look.
    At that moment, a plate of food was finally placed in front of Jeff. “About time, woman. I can see where the priorities are around this place.”
    “Have they set your track yet?” Silas asked the boy, changing the subject.
    “Not yet,” Ashley answered for him. “He’s still scoring too high in too many areas for them to narrow it down. By about this time next year they’ll have to decide, even if it means playing eenie, meenie, minie, moe.”
    The tension on Ashley’s face showed what she thought of the tracking system. The kitchen went silent. After finishing the meal, the adults floated into the living room to catch the news.
    E VAN TRIED to concentrate, tried to focus on anything but the rush in his head. The world was fuzz he couldn’t think through yet. A blur. Pain. So he focused on the pain, trusting it to lead him back. Then came the suicide thoughts, and that, too, was familiar, something to hang on to. How much better it would be to just end it all than to endure this confusion. Fingers touched his face. Fat fingers that fumbled at the sensors. His fingers, he supposed. The sensors came loose in two soft pops. Two more burns at the skin of his temples. Burns on the outside of his head. But what’s it doing to the inside?
    He’d been too deep too long. But the mechs were set; the protocols were humming in V-space bass. Everything was ready for the computer to come online tomorrow. That, at least, was some consolation as heslowly came back to himself. He couldn’t remember it ever being this bad before. His head was wood, and he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. This new booth was good . Not for the first time, he wondered if he wasn’t leaving just a little of himself behind in the quickness. Not for the first time, he realized he didn’t care.
    His vision came back gradually, and when he could see well enough not to trip over the clutter, he stepped out of the plug booth. His legs trembled slightly under his weight. Around him, the room was dark and blank and empty. He’d sent the techs home hours ago. He didn’t like the idea of them hanging around, staring at his body while he was inside. He could imagine them pointing and prodding at him, playing with his private parts while they all laughed.
    He looked toward the door and saw