The Ducati was out of gas, so I checked out a couple of the abandoned cars and found an electric SUV that was fully charged. The key fob was on the center console, and the car started right up. The disturbing part was having to dust off the pile of ash from the driver’s seat, realizing that used to be the driver. Even more disturbing was seeing ash in the passenger seat and in a child’s car seat behind me.
I muttered “sorry” as if they could hear me, and slid behind the steering wheel.
“How many Slayer Bowls have you been a part of, ERNI?”
“According to my records, I have been operational in 37 Slayer Bowls.”
“Wow. You’re an old pro.”
“I have extensive knowledge of the sport and its strategies.”
I must have hit a button on the steering wheel because the SUV’s speakers blasted to life with a loud rock song. Startled, I reached over and fumbled with the large touchscreen, eventually finding the off button. My heart raced. Once again in silence, I calmed down, and it finally hit me. This was the first time I’d heard human music since the planet hijack began. “Planet hijack.” That’s the only term I could think of to make sense of the day.
Topside, I drove through more of the destruction. I noticed fresh bloodstains and blast marks on the street and buildings—evidence of recent warrior and monster skirmishes.
“So each time they steal a planet for their game map… they just completely destroy it?”
“That is usually the outcome.”
“Why use random planets at all? Why not an arena?”
“The first 100 Slayer Bowls took place in a galactic colosseum. Eventually, ticket sales and promotions stagnated. Commissioner Krivlax looked for ways to expand the ISL’s appeal across the multiverse. Once the planets were incorporated, viewership skyrocketed, and virtual ticket sales went exponential.”
“So, all of this death and destruction… it’s just one big cash grab?”
“Slayer Bowl is one of the most profitable franchises in the multiverse.”
I nodded, thinking about how greedy and rich human sports franchise owners were. Well, used to be…
----
I missed the Ducati. Navigating with the SUV was far more difficult. I had to mostly keep to sidewalks and shoulders, barely making it through some passageways. We were at the South Philadelphia Industrial District now, and the Slayer Orb was a couple of hundred yards away on the map. I had reached an impassable point with the SUV.
“We hoof it from here.”
“Hoof it?” ERNI asked.
“We walk.”
The air had cooled as a thick blanket of ash, debris, and smoke had blotted out the summer sun. I could hear nearby battles. Though I couldn’t see them, the percussive blasts and screams echoed through the air. I could also see trails of smoke wafting above the rooftops. Occasionally, a yellow or a red dot would glance past the border of my mini-map. Just as quickly disappearing as they moved out of range.
I realized that the Skybotron had gone dormant.
“Hey ERNI, what’s up with the Skybotron? Nothing new to report?”
“The planet-wide display is primarily active during pre-game, half-time, and after the game is over. All other updates are presented as studio game breaks, easily accessible from your menu.”
An ISSN button flashed in the top row of my HUD.
“ISSN?”
“Intergalactic Slayer Sports Network. It is the most popular channel for multiverse combat sports fans.”
I nodded and mentally clicked the button. A small, rectangular picture-in-picture window appeared, floating on the right-hand side of my HUD, just below my health gauge. The window was auto-muted with subtitles and featured Blink and Gil giving commentary as footage from the battlefields played in the background. Currently, they were featuring a shot of Dom Blady destroying what looked like a platoon of half-crab, half-humanoid creatures with his patented Blady Bombs. Jess and Rod were right there, slashing and blasting alongside him.
Unmute.
“…expanding his early lead on the scoreboard and already living up to his moniker as the greatest,” Blink exclaimed.
“He really is… clawing… his way to the top,” Gil chortled.
Mute.
I decided to keep the window up to keep tabs on what was happening in the game. But I didn’t want to hear that crap all of the time.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“What a pretty flower,” ERNI remarked.
I looked at the gauntlet screen, which showed ERNI’s face, glitching. Then I looked down to see what he was referring to. There was a dead man on the sidewalk. His head crushed. The blood blooming into a floral pattern.
“That’s, uh… that’s not a flower, ERNI.”
“Why, yes, I suppose you’re right.”
I looked back at the gauntlet screen as ERNI’s face blinked back to a normal state.
“I’m sorry… what was I saying?” he asked.
I debated whether I should tell him and that brought up another concern. Could ERNI hear all of my thoughts? I decided to test this out. I thought of something with the distinct intention that he should not know about it.
“ERNI, I think you’re more messed up than you think. Can you hear this?”
I waited a tense moment. When he didn’t respond, I relaxed a bit. Okay, so I could shield thoughts from him. This was comforting. The idea that someone or something could invade my mental sanctuary and scan my innermost thoughts was supremely icky.
Still, this episode was a solid reminder that ERNI was still malfunctioning on some level. I had to remember that.
I swung my rucksack on and adjusted the top flap to allow for what little sunlight there was to hit Count Basil. A thought occurred.
“ERNI, can you store Count Basil in inventory to keep him protected?”
“You are referring to your basil plant?”
“Yes.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot. Biological items are incompatible with my inter-dimensional inventory system. Stowing them inside would cause immediate expiration.”
“Ah,” I nodded.
“May I inquire why you are carrying an herb plant and cooking utensils? Is it your intention to cook while in the field?”
I let out a big laugh. I thought it was the first one I had today and then I remembered the one I had with Sola.
“No, no, they just all have sentimental value for me. Count Basil’s sort of a friend.”
“I do not understand. Plants cannot speak or communicate.”
“No, but their presence can be soothing. It’s the same reason a lot of people love gardening or have houseplants. Well, or at least they did.”
God, every time I referred to people, there was the constant painful reminder of the mass execution we had just experienced as a species. I wondered just how many of us had managed to survive.
I took a peek at my health gauge. It was still at 83 and I still had a black eye and was missing a tooth. I thought about the bottle of Healer-Ade in my playbook.
A translucent bottle immediately materialized in my hand. The liquid was a glowing neon orange with small green spheres floating inside like tapioca. I uncapped the bottle and reacted to its rancid smell.
“Ugh!”
I was curious if I only drank a portion of the bottle, if that would give me a proportionate healing effect. I guzzled down half and recapped the bottle. The good news was it tasted a lot better than it smelled. It was a strange mix of citrus fruits and some kind of mediciny flavor. I could feel a strange sensation around my damaged eye and inside my mouth. I watched my health gauge as it ticked up from 83 back all the way to 100.
I walked over to the shattered front window of a building and looked at my reflection in one of the shards.
“Holy crapoli…”
My black eye was completely gone and when I flashed a smile, my lost tooth had regrown back in place. It was as if I had never taken a single hit. I glanced again at the bottle of Healer-Ade. There was half left. And the info-box showed a remaining use of 0.5/1.
“Okay,” I nodded with a smile. It was the first time in my entire life that I had ever appreciated fractions.
“ERNI, these power-ups are pretty amazing.”
“Their effects are quite substantial.”
“Are there ones that can increase muscle content… make me a little more buff?”
“Yes, they exist.”
“So they can affect anything, right? Like any part of my body?”
“Is there something specific you are inquiring about?”
“No, no… just a general question.”
“Then, why are you thinking of your reproductive organ?”
I immediately felt hot and embarrassed. I stammered for a good way to respond.
“Uh… it was just a completely random thought?”
“It is probably useful for you to know that I am equipped with a deception detection system. Using a series of biometric readings, such as voice stress, respiration, and heart rate, I can often tell when a user is being deceitful.”
“That’s good to know. Okay, so… these Slayer Orbs,” I said, changing the subject. “Tell me a little bit about them.”
“Slayer Orbs are glowing spheres randomly generated in the game, one per warrior. They are the equivalent of what you might call a ball in one of your human sports. They are about the size of a human basketball. Each is equipped with a thermonuclear core, and thus can become very unstable if not properly protected. They also contain a chemical pheromone that is irresistible to monster breeds seeded into the game.”
“Yeah. That’s a little bit different from a basketball.”
“Every quarter you must find your designated Slayer Orb and move it into a scoring zone before time expires. If you don’t, you are automatically eliminated from the contest.”
“Eliminated in terms of like… dead eliminated?”
“No, you would be instantly teleported off-world and branded with a DNF for ‘Did Not Finish.’ A significant amount of participants labeled with DNFs end up taking their own lives. Societally, it’s very much a brand of shame and disgrace.”
“Got it. Okay, so scoop up one of these rocks and run it into one of these scoring zones? Sounds easy enough. I’m pretty quick on my feet.”
“If it were that easy, no one would ever be eliminated. As I said, monsters have an insatiable attraction to the Slayer Orbs. The moment you possess one, you become a high-level target.”
I knew I would need better armor and better weapons. I was hoping to find some before I got to the Slayer Orb.
“Besides trunks, trophies, and looting, what are other ways to get new weapons?”
“There are optional side-quests accessible in your playbook.”
“Okay, so maybe it’s time to grind and do some of these quests to get better weapons.”
“You can certainly adopt that strategy. However, the quarter countdown timer will not pause. If time expires while you are pursuing upgrades instead of scoring an Orb Down, you would be eliminated.”
The overall strategy and challenges of the game were starting to crystallize in my mind. It was a balance of finding these orb thingies and scoring with them and performing flashy monster kills. But, you also had to worry about ways to upgrade your weapons and armor so that you’d be around long enough to do those aforementioned tasks.
It was actually a brilliantly designed game—one that I would have enjoyed playing in VR rather than on the ash-strewn streets of my decimated planet. My buddy, Jay—well… J-Dawg8—would love this game too. I wondered if he made it out alive. I missed his in-game chatter.
“Hey ERNI, this is a long shot, but are you able to search through internet logs and identify a human with the gamer ID of J-Dawg8? See if he happened to survive the planet purge?”
ERNI was silent for a moment. I could tell he was doing his best to search through what data streams he had access to. A moment later he returned with a somber reply.
“I am unable to determine that. This J-Dawg8 is your friend?”
“Yes.”
“Like Count Basil, the basil plant, is your friend?”
I smirked at the absurdity of the question, but responded, “Yes.”
“Well, I hope that your friend is alright.”
“Yeah… me too.”