Chapter 3: Turn 1

There was something wrong with James’ brain, he had known so for quite some time. It wasn’t just curiosity—though that word came close—it was more like an itch, an obsessive need to understand. To comprehend the workings of things, even if they didn’t make sense at first glance. A knot of compulsive energy that refused to let him look away. He’d felt it as a kid, poring over magic tricks, puzzles and taking apart electronics just to see how they fit back together. And now, sitting across from Professor Wilson, that same part of his brain was screaming at him. How could he walk away from this?

“I’ll play,” James said, the words leaving his mouth before he’d even finished thinking them through. And yet, there was a strange sense of clarity in his decision, like this was the only real option.

Wilson’s grin stretched wider, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Good,” he said, his voice soft, almost soothing. “I thought you might.”

The air in the room seemed to thicken, the invisible tension drawing tighter now that the game had officially begun. James could feel it, the weight of the commitment settling over him. But underneath that pressure, there was excitement, a stirring that quickened his pulse. He was in the Game now, and every instinct told him it was going to be unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

Wilson leaned forward slightly, still cuffed to the table but projecting a confidence that suggested the restraints were nothing more than a formality. “Let’s start with something simple—a warm-up, if you will. The first handicap of this little Game of ours is straightforward. We’ll play a modified classic: twenty questions. I’ll answer every one of them with complete honesty.”

James raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That’s it? Just questions?”

Wilson nodded, his expression unchanging. “Indeed. But there’s more to it. You see, the questions can be anything—literally anything. Examples might include but are not limited to: 'How can I truly win The Game?' 'Where will you be in exactly 24 hours?' 'Why begin this whole Game in the first place?'. However, there are three additional rules to this version of 20 questions. First, if I don’t know the answer to a question or am unable to answer, I’ll simply tell you so and that question will be wasted. Second, if I do know the answer, I will respond with no less than 30 words. And third, if you choose, you can exchange seven of your questions for the ability to add a new rule to The Game. The new rule can be anything you wish, as long as it doesn’t contradict what’s already in place."

[A rule of my own.] James could feel the gears turning in his head. He could feel this was an opportunity he couldn't miss. That left him with only 13, he had a plan his questions accordingly.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Alright,” James said, settling back in his chair. “Let’s start.”

Wilson gave a slight nod, encouraging. “Your first question, then.”

James hesitated for only a moment, knowing the first question was crucial. He needed something that would give him a foothold.

"What are the exact rules of this Game that we’re playing?" he asked, his voice steady despite the unease creeping in. "To be clear, not 20 Questions—I'm talking about the capital G Game."

"Ah, the capital G Game," he said with a smile. "Excellent question. Let’s go over the rules, shall we?"

He began counting off on his fingers.

"Number one: The first player to kill me wins, regardless of any extenuating circumstances. Simple, right?".

"Number two: I am operating under 16 secret handicaps, none of which will be revealed until the time is right. Trust me, they’ll make things interesting.

"Number three: I am unable to directly harm any player who has agreed to participate in The Game.”

His smile widened slightly, and he continued. "Number four: I am bound to answer any player's questions honestly, and I must engage in the modified version of 20 Questions with them when they start The Game.

"Number five: I have one restriction on my movement. From 12:01 a.m. Sunday morning to 11:59 p.m. Friday evening, I cannot leave a 14-kilometer radius from wherever I find myself at exactly 12:00 a.m. Sunday morning."

"Number six: No player is allowed to reveal the existence of The Game to any non-player. Try to do so, and... well, let's just say there are consequences. Severe ones."

He leaned forward slightly. "And finally, number seven: Remember to have fun!”

James leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he considered Wilson’s response. He had learned a lot from his first question, but one detail stood out—something critical.

“Your last answer seemed to imply that there might be other players,” James said, choosing his words carefully. “If there are, who are they, and how many?”

Wilson tilted his head slightly. "For future reference, that counts as two questions: ‘Who are the other players?’ and ‘How many are there?’" He paused for two moments before continuing.

"As for your first question—who are the other players—I’m afraid I cannot answer that. You see, I am not allowed to directly harm any player, and giving you personal details about them would violate that clause. So, I apologize, but I’m unable to provide their identities."

Wilson leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, clearly enjoying the exchange. "However, your second question—‘how many’—I can answer. Counting yourself, there are currently seven players."

James cursed inwardly, frustration bubbling up as he realized he had just wasted a question. He now had only ten left if he wanted to save enough to add a rule. There was no room for error; each question had to count.