Reality Heist - Geordi Riker (ready player one ebook TXT) 📗

him look smart.”
“Okay, back to business,” Skip cuts them off, “Brandee, you're just going to have to get used to a pile of nicknames. Simply put, if it involves a drink, Dutch is either referring to you or some crazy concoction he cooked up.
“Now, the whole point of this step in the game is to find the weak spots, or strong spots, depending on what we decide to go for.”
“Um, shouldn't someone else go then?” I ask, raising my hand, “I mean, hate to break it to you, but I'm not exactly cut out for this whole spy thing where I look for the weak spots. I'm good behind a computer.”
“You ever play Stealth?” Chase asks.
“Yeah, a long time ago.”
“Basically, we're aiming for the same thing here. Except, you need to actually talk to the people, instead of getting pop-ups of dialogue whenever you get near one of the security guards during the espionage preliminaries of the mission.” He explains.
“Yeah, no, I'm not going to be much help.”
“Hey, don't worry about it too much,” Jesse reassures me, “People tend to open up more to a couple of tourists than a person traveling by himself. If you can't handle it, just let me do all the talking.”
“Sounds good.”
“Alright, while you two go on your all-day date, Dutch, Amaar, you two will go out and get us some grub. Make it last for a couple days.”
“We might not even be here for that long, Skip,” Ky complains, “What's the point in wasting funds?”
“Money doesn't matter. Don't forget, we are here because of our dearly beloved friends, the Black, who graciously filled a drawer in the front foyer chock full of cash. Chase found it earlier. Stuff your pockets on your way out, all of you. But make sure that it isn't a ludicrous amount, in case someone gets in trouble somewhere. If you really need to resupply yourself, the red bags exist for a reason.
“Brandee, Jesse, the hovercraft will drop you off in the Central Parking lot, whatever it's called. The museum's few blocks away, a nice little walk. Dress warmly.
“Everybody else, get a good night's sleep. It's been a while...”
“Try two years,” Chase interrupts. His comment is greeted with knowing laughter.
Skip smiles slightly, “Yeah, try to make the most of this opportunity. Who knows? Maybe we can stretch this out into a little bit of a vacation.”
“I would advise against that,” Dutch speaks up.
“Oh? Care to share your vast depth of knowledge with the rest of us, oh wise and powerful one?” Amaar asks lightheartedly.
“Don't get snarky on me just because you lost,” Dutch scolds him, shaking a finger at him, “This place is going to go sky-high by the end of next week.”
“Okay, then we leave by Friday.”
“Uh, Skip?” Jesse raises his hand, “Today is Thursday.”
Skip shrugs as he stands up, “Do I look like I care? It's Monday somewhere else.”
“Can we just agree to act on the calendar that we find ourselves in?” Chase offers.
“Sure.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jesse adds, “Amaar, do you agree? Being the self-appointed expert on time travel, I believe that we should consider your opinion with more deference than anyone else's in the group.”
Amaar shrugs, “If I disagree, you guys will just shoot me.”
Laughter erupts at this as the rest of the gang rises from their seats. “With that,” Skip announces, “This meeting is adjourned. Get a good night's sleep, unless you haven't eaten anything yet.” He glances at me, “Eat something and go to bed. Lots of stuff to do, and very little time to do it in.”
The rest of the gang clears out, Dutch's footsteps louder than most as he lumbers up the stairs. A small scuffle breaks out somewhere along the way, but at Skip's bellow, everybody settles down. I grab a plate, fill it with spaghetti, pour some sauce on it, and dig in.
I leave the plate half-finished in the sink, with a note explaining that I would clean it up in the morning. Spaghetti just doesn't taste too good to me right now, maybe because it's cold and almost rock solid. And I don't really have much of an appetite. The whole heist- date thing kind of set me off, not to mention the training with Hiyori. I sit back down at the table and dig out my little computer tablet. I should probably try to figure out what the heck I'm supposed to use it for.
I turn it over in my hand and study the back. There's a small symbol in the center of the back, the symbol for a USB key or port. But, engraved in gold as it is, the symbol looks almost foreign to me, as if I've never seen it before in my life. And above it are the same three characters that are on the flat rock in my jacket's pocket, which I had stuffed in my bag along with my boots. With some effort, I manage to dig it out, and place it on the table, along with the black charging cable.
Another strand of black catches my eye, and I pull out a thin cord, three pieces of string twisted together. It's the perfect length to tie around my neck as a necklace.
At the thought, the stone on the table vibrates. I stare at it, but nothing else happens. Gingerly, I pick it up, feeling the weight and the slight glow of heat now emanating from it. The symbols make it look actually kind of cool. How whack of a necklace would it look like? The stone again vibrates, and I drop it on the table, surprised. Light fills the room,and I flinch away, squeezing my eyes shut against the sudden brightness. Voices start to whisper, chanting something in a foreign language. The tones rise and fall in pitch, sometimes screaming, sometimes barely audible.
It seems like an eternity before the voices fade away and the light disappears. Slowly, I open my eyes. The stone lies still, the part of the table that it is lying on scorched. The tablet stands beside it, the screen now glowing blue with the USB symbol highlighted in white, slowly rotating as a three dimensional image.
Cautiously, I reach a hand towards it, and lightly touch the surface. The tablet comes to life, throwing holographic images into the air, symbols both familiar and unrecognizable, rotating in a perfect orb, as if waiting for me to select one. I lightly touch the glowing red icon of five uneven bars. The holograph changes, and I am left with a search engine for the Internet. A holographic projection of a keyboard scans itself onto the table in front of me. I type in the first thing that pops into my head that seems safe: “Influencing Holographs”.
With faint whirrs, the hologram flickers and is replaced with a list of results. I select the first one, and am introduced to the world of interactive holographic control. Friends

Numbers. Long, fat, skinny, short, repeating, negative, positive, infinity. Everything and nothing flashes through my mind. I'm swimming in a sea of them, they part as I near them, dividing and multiplying, calculating angles and irrational integers. Repeating, forming patterns, then separating to become meaningless again. None of it makes sense. I try to grab a number with my hand, but nothing reaches out for the number I want. I look at my nonexistent body with fear, I do not exist. I am in the world of math, the abstract universe in which time is nothing but a mirage, where life is not considered as part of the never-ending equation...
A sudden bang causes me to jump, automatically sitting up in my seat. Mr. Bryerson gives me a look as he continues towards the front of the classroom. “Brandee, I know this is terribly dull, but could you at least extend to me the courtesy of not falling asleep in my class?”
The other students giggle at his comment as I gaze around stupidly, trying to place what class this is. Then it hits me, and I wish it hadn't. Detention. What had I done this time? I can't even remember. How many Saturday mornings had I spent like this, stuck with other kids as Bryerson went on one of his power talks, taking full advantage of the fact that we all had to be there for the required three hours. Since it's normally the same people, Bryerson unofficially teaches us some foreign concept, something that pops up on our next test in one of our classes, even if it's an English class and he provided us with the Fibonacci sequence the previous detention. The VP can do whatever he wants.
“If you weren't paying attention, but instead were drooling on your desks...” Okay, that's taking it too far. I may have been sleeping, but there is no way that I would have drooled on the desk. I glance down at my notebook, the papers blank as always for detentions. Instead of my phone on the top corner of the desk, though, the tablet sits nice and prettily. What's that doing here?
I suddenly feel a warmth about my neck. I glance down to see the stone with the three Japanese characters glowing, hanging about my neck by the thin black cord. Tenaciously, I wrap a hand around it, glancing sideways to see if anyone had noticed. Weirdly, everybody is actually paying attention to what Bryerson is saying. I must be dreaming.
“Brandee!”
Chase's voice startles me out of my dream, and I sit up, banging my elbow on the table. “Ow!” I yell as my eyes snap open.
It takes me a moment to recognize the crummy wallpaper, the ancient fridge, and scorched tabletop, along with the person sitting across from me. Chase nods at me, “Had a nice sleep, did you?”
I stare at him, “I fell asleep?”
Jesse steps into view, and hands me a cup of coffee. Chase is nursing a half empty mug, with words proudly proclaiming “You Should See The Other Guy”. I gulp down the coffee before I even stop to think. My face scrunches up at the bitter taste. “You were so far gone, Dutch lumbered right in here this morning, cooked up the perfect drunkard's meal, and clamoured out the door with Amaar arguing with Ky about the merits of meat cooked as opposed to raw meat. Not that that was something you would want to hear discussed in detail.”
“I fell asleep?”
Chase sighs as he snaps back another page of the newspaper in front of him, “Yeah, Petite, we thought you were a goner for sure. Out like a light, snoring, talking in your sleep.”
“I do not snore!” I protest. The rest of his sentence kicks in, “What do you mean, talking in my sleep?” I ask self-consciously.
Jesse shrugs, “The usual. 'No, don't do that! The best way to get past those kinds of walls are to use the Fibonacci sequence' Just what kind of firewall requires