Free The Game by Terry Schott Page B

was not a team of hacks fooling around when he wasn’t here. This was the big leagues of the Game.
      “Give me the details, kids. Same priority as always, biggest problems first.”
      Zack’s Right Hand, Michelle, stood up from her place and walked towards the large monitor opposite from Brandon. The Right Hand of a player was the leader of the group, in charge and responsible for all aspects of the player from this side of the Game. The Right Hand answered to the Patron, everyone else answered to the Right Hand.
      At 25, Michelle was a retired top ranked player. She was beautiful, smart, and very experienced at coordinating winning teams. Each time their player went into the Game, the team would elect one member to be the Right Hand for the duration of that play. If a Right Hand did their job well, they would be elected to do the job during the next play. Michelle had been Zack’s Right Hand for the last five plays, a very impressive record even among the elite player groups.
      “Someone’s trying to kill Trew,” Michelle said.
      Brandon nodded, apparently not too concerned to hear this. “Any idea who?”
      “Some ideas, but nothing definite yet.”
      “You have it under control? Our boy is as safe as we can make him?”
      “Absolutely, sir.”
      “Who’s making sure he’s safe?”
      Michelle looked downwards towards her left. “I’m not able to say, sir.”
      “You just did, Michelle. So she’s watching him and it’s all good?”
      Brandon scanned the entire table, searching for someone to silently indicate the situation wasn’t in control. Everyone looked calm and confident. He nodded positively. “Next?” Brandon asked.
      “It’s been five days played, and Trew is very young. The scenarios and credits spent on power ups have all worked properly so far. We know that he won a one million dollar prize for being born at 12:21. That was expensive for us to buy and, as it turns out, a total waste of credits. Who would have guessed the Mainframe would stop all other births at that time once the first player purchased it?”
      “The money sits in an account for him until he’s what age?” Brandon asked.
      “Twenty-five,” Michelle said. “His parents are comfortable when it comes to money, so he won’t need it until then.”
      “What’s his overall health and disposition?” Brandon asked.
      “He’s a happy, healthy boy. They are teaching him religion and eastern spiritualism. Teachers and neighbours all like young Trew; his charisma is high. He’s a natural leader.”
      “How old is he and has he begun to self-narrate?”
      “He’s seven. The self-narrating is beginning, but still nothing an audience will want to turn in to listen to quite yet,” Michelle said. “He purchased the correct attributes, though. Soon the little voice that talks to itself, detailing life’s observations, feelings and thoughts will start to mature and the crowds of fans will begin to tune in to listen.”
      Brandon nodded. Self-narration was part of the programming built into all avatars. Earthlings rarely gave much thought to why they constantly talked to themselves, but it served a crucial purpose for the Game audience. Anyone watching or Firsting the players received a clear, concise dialogue of what was going on in the player’s head. Game viewing had exploded in popularity when the self-narration add-on had been implemented.
      “So, not much to report then?” Brandon asked.
      Michelle shook her head. “The first few years are always pretty boring. The excitement will start for us and the fans when he is nine. He bought maturity, so he should start self-narrating early for the fans. He will turn nine tomorrow at 2 PM our time.”
      Brandon nodded and stood up. “Then I will see you all tomorrow at 2 PM.”
      He was at the door when he stopped and turned around to ask one final question. “What about Alexandra Montoyas? Where has she turned up in the