Free [Brackets] by David Sloan Page A

forty feet to safety. He listened to the muted pattering of millions of engorged rain drops on the roof and counted:
    3…2…1…
    Door open, umbrella open, umbrella up, tight squeeze for Perry, tight squeeze for the duffel bag, a twist to close the door… and the sickening realization that the keys were still on the seat. Door open again, duffle bag over the shoulder, umbrella aloft with the other hand, squeeze back through the door, grab the keys, all set, plan executed. Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind yanked his umbrella and arm up and backwards, pulling his body into his car door, which slammed into the truck’s polished side. Swearing through his teeth , Perry closed his door with his hip. He inspected the small dent in the truck as best he could through wet glasses. At last, he turned and walked across the lot to the walkway. When he was safe and sheltered, he looked back. It was too wet to leave a note, he reasoned, and too many stores to hunt the owner down. It was bad luck, but what could he do? A flash of lightning, slow and bright and closer than seemed normal, startled him into a quicker pace as he walked to the entrance of Seattle’s largest KM Center.
    “Brutal storm tonight, right?” commented the bored clerk, barely looking up from his phone as Perry dripped through the door, his sneakers squeaking conspicuously.
    “Yeah.” Perry shook his stubborn umbrella closed .
    “Wasn’t supposed to rain at all. I even brought my bike today. Ever feel like life is seriously just out to get you?” The clerk jawed some gum.
    “Sometimes. ” Perry made his way to the large door in the back without a glance at the shelves of merchandise. He waved a magnetic membership pass over a sensor, and the door slid open . Taking a deep breath, he exhaled all thoughts of rain, expensive trucks, and Seattle, and walked underneath a sign that read: “ Ootzen . Welcome to Kaah Mukul .”
    The door opened onto a wide platform that overlooked an amphitheater. On the stage below were four players, each wearing interface headsets around their eyes and ears and holding baton-like controllers strapped around their hands and feet. They ran and swerved in place, seeming to face each other blindly. The giant projection screen above them showed what the players were seeing: a wide , rectangular ball court covered with packed dirt and surrounded by vine-covered stone walls. The players danced and dodged as they each manipulated the movements of three virtual players with their bodies, trying desperately to get the ball into one of t he two vertical hoops mounted over the court without getting kicked in the head. Ullamaball really was a beautiful game, Perry thought as he passed by the viewing platform . It was an elegant mix of soccer, basketball, and tae-kwon do, infused with the ancient Meso-American mystique that pervaded all of Kaah Mukul. But it wasn’t for him.
    Perry left the Ullamaball room behind and made his way down a hallway, pas t the large room full of consoles for those many Kaah Mukul patrons who hadn’t spent as much time or money there as he had. His true domain was set apart for those who, like him, were truly serious about doing something significant in the virtual city .
    The Tribal Room opened with a wave of Perry’s ID card. His young fellow travelers were already inside, seated around a rectangular table that dominated the center of the room. Perry nodded hello to them as he made his way to his seat at the table’s head. He looked down at the information already feeding into his personal monitor to see if there was anything new. A constant stream of statistics scrolled down, reloading every five seconds:
     
     
    Warriors of Tsepes
    Dominance ranking………32.70
    Tribal membership…. …… . 27
    Territory controlled (%) …. 16
    Money accrued (K$)…..... .. 109,012
    Total kills…………………... 146
    Est. weapon strength………..
     
    While he read, he removed a black and red bandana from the