Ready Player Two

I stared at the shard in awe, feeling a strange combination of exhilaration and disappointment. I’d finally uncovered the First Shard’s hiding place. But after three years of trying, I hadn’t been able to do it on my own. No, I’d had to be led here, like a noob following a walkthrough. Buying victory like some clueless Sixer instead of earning it on my own, or with the help of my friends…

But my shame couldn’t drown out the rush of relief and validation. The shards were real. I still wasn’t sure what I was hunting for, or why it mattered, but now I knew this wasn’t just some meaningless riddle. It really was another hunt created by Halliday. And whatever the prize was, it had to be important.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of motion as L0hengrin reached for the spinning shard. Her hand passed right through it, as if it were a hologram.

“I’ve tried picking it up dozens of times, dozens of different ways,” she said. “No matter what I try, my hand passes right through it. I don’t think anyone can touch it—except you, Halliday’s heir. To get the shard, you have to pay some sort of toll…whatever that means.”

For each fragment my heir must pay a toll, to once again make the Siren whole.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I said, reaching out for the shard.

My fingers didn’t pass through it—they closed around it. And as they did…

…For a moment, I was somewhere else. I was in a school classroom filled with old BBC Microcomputers. There was no one else in the room. I was sitting at one of the computers, and I could see my reflection in its monitor. Except it wasn’t mine. It was Kira Underwood’s face staring back at me. She—or rather, I—looked about nine or ten years old. And I felt exhilarated! My skin and scalp were tingling, and I could feel my pulse racing and my heart thudding inside of my tiny chest. I was staring at the screen, admiring a piece of artwork I’d just finished creating—a pixelated unicorn rearing up on its hind legs, silhouetted against a crescent moon.

I recognized this image. It was famous. It was the very first piece of digital artwork Kira Underwood ever created. And I appeared to be reliving the moment just after she had created it….

And then I was back, in my own body, standing in Kira’s bedroom—the guest room in Middletown.

Somehow, I’d just spent a moment inside Kira’s past.

I was still reeling when a series of cascading chimes rang in my ears and a message appeared on my HUD: Congratulations, Parzival! You’ve found the first of the Seven Shards of the Siren’s Soul!

“What happened?” L0hengrin said. “You zoned out for a second. Are you all right?”

I looked down at the luminous blue shard in my hand.

“I had some sort of vision,” I said. “Like a momentary flashback. I guess that was the ‘toll’ I had to pay?”

“A flashback?” she repeated slowly. “What do you mean?”

“It felt like an ONI recording,” I said. “But it only lasted for a few seconds. I was Kira Underwood—or at least, it felt like I was her—and I was reliving the moment when she created that unicorn on a computer at her school when she was ten.”

“The Crescent Moon Unicorn?” Lo said, eyes wide with awe. “But it had to be a simulation, right? ONI headsets didn’t exist back in the ’80s. And Kira died years before they were even invented.”

I nodded. I’d just been thinking the same thing.

“No, it obviously couldn’t have been a real ONI recording,” I said. “But it felt like one. Halliday must have simulated it. Though I don’t have the first clue how he could’ve done it so convincingly….”

“Or why,” Lo said, shaking her head. “Why would he create a Sim of one of Kira’s childhood memories? From her perspective? That would be a pretty messed-up night of programming, man. Even for Halliday…”

I was considering this question when an urgent notification flashed on my HUD. It was an icon I hadn’t seen in years—a Scoreboard alert. When I selected it, a web-browser window appeared in front of my avatar, displaying Halliday’s old website, where the Scoreboard for his contest had once resided. A few seconds after I had found the egg and won the contest, the Scoreboard had been replaced with an image of my avatar dressed in Anorak’s Robes, along with the message: PARZIVAL WINS!

That image had disappeared. Now a new Scoreboard had appeared in its place. But instead of a list of the top-ten players, this Scoreboard only displayed one avatar’s name—my own. And instead of a numerical score, there was a single blue shard icon beside my name, followed by six empty slots.

“Whoa,” L0hengrin whispered, running her hands through her short blond hair. She motioned to the blue shard icon glittering on the Scoreboard. “Now the whole world knows you have the First Shard. The newsfeeds must be blowing up.”

I turned the shard over in my hands, then held it up and examined it more closely. There was an inscription engraved into its crystalline surface:

Her paint and her canvas, the one and the zero

The very first heroine, demoted to hero

“ ‘The very first heroine, demoted to hero,’ ” L0hengrin repeated, suddenly standing right next to me. “Oh shit! I think I know—”

“Please, don’t!” I said, muting her avatar until she’d finished speaking. “I appreciate your help, but I can take it from here.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “OK. I understand.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, placing the shard in my inventory to conceal it from view.

“If you get stuck, call me,” Lo said. “I’ve already conducted a complete search of this 1989 version of Middletown, and I found a ton of stuff you won’t believe! Clues I bet will be helpful! This is stuff no one else knows about—”

“I appreciate the offer,” I said again. “But I think you’re going to be pretty busy for the next few months…spending your reward. Time for you to get paid, Billie Jean.”

Her face lit up.

“Wait, you mean right now?”

I reached up to open up my avatar’s HUD and I saw her hold her breath. I opened the Financial Transactions menu, selected her avatar on my display, and tapped a series of icons. And that was it. One billion dollars were transferred from my OASIS account to hers.

L0hengrin looked like she might pass out when she saw the transfer go through.

“Congratulations, Lo,” I said. “You’re a self-made billionaire. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

I offered her my hand and she shook it. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Then she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around me. I stood there frozen for a few seconds, then I hugged her back.

“I can’t tell you what this means to me, sir,” she said, once she finally let go of me. “This is going to change everything for me. And for all of my friends. I’m gonna be able to buy a house in Columbus for us to live in together.”

“That sounds like a pretty great plan,” I said, hearing my voice catch. “Once you’re all moved in, I hope you guys will invite me over to hang out sometime. Or you can come to my place. I could use some more real-world friends.”

“Well, we’ll have to see….” She laughed nervously. “You’ve still got six more shards to find….And I’ve got…a lot of things to figure out….”

She frowned as she appeared to contemplate the logistics involved in using her newfound wealth to make her dreams come true. I knew from experience how overwhelming that could be.

I opened a window in front of her avatar, displaying the contract again. “Remember. You’ve agreed not to tell anyone else how to find this shard, or share any of the details of our interaction, until after I’ve found all seven shards. If you do, our deal will be nullified.”

She gave me an anxious look.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I know you probably already told some of your friends that you found the shard, and that you were planning to contact me about it. That’s not a big deal….”

“Hey,” she said, leveling a finger at me. “Were you eavesdropping on us in our chatroom? You were, weren’t you? Like Og did to you and your friends during the contest!”

I ignored the accusation.

“Just make sure no one else knows where or how to find the shard, OK?” I said. “Not until after I’ve found all seven of them. Then you can each write a memoir for all I care.”

She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip.

“Understood,” she said finally. “But please, do all of your die-hard fans—like me—a favor and don’t do anything else to embarrass us, OK?”

Before I could respond, she held up both hands, gave me a sheepish grin, and kept right on talking at a rapid-fire pace.

“I say that with all due respect, of course. Because I do respect you, and everything you’ve accomplished. You just lost your way a little bit. Which makes perfect sense—you suddenly became rich and famous! You know what Bill Murray said about that? ‘When you become famous, you’ve got, like, a year or two where you act like a real asshole. You can’t help yourself. It happens to everybody. You’ve got, like, two years to pull it together—or it’s permanent.’ ”

I frowned at her. “I’ve been famous for well over three years now.”

“I know!” she replied cheerfully. “But it’s never too late to turn things around.”

I nodded, trying not to show how much her words had wounded my pride.

She dropped her hands and exhaled. “Sorry. Had to be said. Has been said. Time to shut up now, Lo.”

She mimed zipping her lips. Way too late, in my opinion. I wasn’t sure if I was touched, hurt, or angered by everything she’d just said. Maybe all three at once.

“You want to know my favorite Bill Murray quote?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I always want to say to people who want to be rich and famous: ‘Try being rich first. See if that doesn’t cover most of it.’ ”

She laughed and shook her head. “I have no idea how to be a millionaire, much less a billionaire. It’s pretty nuts….”

She gave me an anxious smile. I recognized the overwhelmed look on her face. I’d seen it in the mirror the morning after I won Halliday’s contest.

“Listen, Lo,” I said as I typed a brief text message on my HUD. “I’m gonna have one of my assistants at GSS get in touch with you. A guy named Marvin. He’s a good dude. He’ll be your assistant over the next few weeks, OK? He can help you relocate to Columbus. Hire a good lawyer and an accountant. Find a realtor and movers for you and your friends. Whatever you need. And I’d also like to arrange for you to have a GSS security escort until you’ve safely relocated. I promise they won’t bother you. Does that all sound all right with you?”

She nodded, and the tears that had accumulated around her eyes streamed down her cheeks.

“Thank you, Mr. Watts,” she said. “Wade.”

“Thank you, Lo,” I replied.

I handed her one of my contact cards, which were still designed to look like an old Adventure cartridge for the Atari 2600.

“Give me a call if there’s ever anything you need,” I said. “Anything at all.”

She stared down at the card. Then she snapped it out of my hands and rushed to give me one of her own contact cards. It was designed to look like a VHS copy of The Legend of Billie Jean. I immediately added it to my inventory.

“Thanks again for your help,” I said, giving her a tiny salute. “Take care of yourself, OK?”

Before she could respond, I teleported away, back to my stronghold on Falco.

I suddenly felt exhausted. And my daily twelve-hour ONI usage limit had nearly elapsed. I only had about forty-five minutes remaining. Some users could do a full twelve hours every day with no ill effects, but I wasn’t one of them. I always tried to log out before I hit the half-hour-remaining mark, to avoid the risk of giving myself the shakes or a migraine. I decided to wait until tomorrow to start looking for the Second Shard.

I saw that I had missed several calls from both Aech and Shoto, but I was too beat to call either of them back. I vowed to do so first thing in the morning.

When I logged out of the OASIS, my ONI headset woke me from the sleeplike state it induced and reconnected my mind with my physical body. As always, this process took a few minutes. It felt a bit like waking up from an incredibly vivid dream. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in my immersion vault, nestled in its gel-foam auto-recliner.

I pressed a button on the control panel and the armored canopy slid open with a pneumatic hiss. I pulled myself out, ritually humming the opening line of an old ’80s tune by Soul II Soul. Back to life. Back to re-al-it-y.

Feeling heavy in my own skin, I trudged back to the other end of the house, climbed the stairs, and collapsed into bed. A few minutes after my head hit the pillow, I drifted off to sleep.

Most daily ONI users lost the ability to remember their dreams, even though they still went into REM sleep each night. Unfortunately, I could still remember my dreams—or rather, one recurring dream that had been haunting me once or twice a week for several years now.

And despite my excitement over obtaining one of the shards, I had it again that night.

The details were always the same….

I found myself standing in Anorak’s study, next to the Big Red Button. Sometimes my right hand was poised above it and sometimes, like tonight, I was actually touching it. As always, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the button’s mirrored plastic surface. It was my face—Wade’s face—that I saw there, instead of that of my avatar, Parzival, though I was wearing the Robes of Anorak.

As soon as I got my bearings, two stacks of golden Marshall amplifiers magically appeared on either side of Halliday’s golden Easter egg and a hauntingly familiar song blasted out of them at earsplitting volume—“Push It” by Salt-N-Pepa.

Then the emcees themselves, Salt and Pepa, stepped out from behind the golden Marshall stacks, both singing into golden microphones, looking like they just stepped out of their music video in 1986. While DJ Spinderella rose up from behind Halliday’s egg, scratching a pair of solid gold records on a set of solid gold turntables.

Then, while I continued to stand there frozen, with my hand on the Big Red Button, Salt-N-Pepa performed the song’s chorus continuously, for what felt like several straight hours:

Ah, push it, push it good

Ah, push it, push it real good

Oooh, baby, baby! Baby, baby!

Oooh, baby, baby! Baby, baby!

As recurring nightmares go, I could’ve done a hell of a lot worse. But to say that those lyrics had gotten stuck in my head would’ve been the understatement of the century. They were permanently welded to every neuron in my brain. Whether I was online or offline, dreaming or awake, the image of my face reflected in the surface of the Big Red Button was always lurking at the back of my mind and those lyrics were playing on an endless loop, telling me over and over again that I should not only push it!, but that the sensible thing would be for me to go the extra mile and push it real good!

Normally, that was where the dream ended. But tonight, I actually worked up the courage to take Salt-N-Pepa’s advice….

Big money, no Whammies, I remember thinking, just before I hit the Big Red Button with the open palm of my right hand. It lit up, and a Death Star klaxon began to sound in the distance. Then the button began to pulse off and on rapidly, growing brighter each time as its color changed from red to white.

When I turned around, Salt-N-Pepa had vanished, and the guys from Men at Work were standing in their place, singing the chorus of their 1983 hit single “It’s a Mistake.”

I ran outside, onto the balcony. But I was no longer surrounded by the simulated landscape of Chthonia. Now I was in the Portland Avenue Stacks in Oklahoma City, where I’d grown up. And my aunt Alice’s trailer was right in front of me, perched precariously at the top of its stack. My aunt Alice was standing at her bedroom window, staring back at me with a look of bitter resignation on her face.

My gaze dropped to Mrs. Gilmore’s trailer, and I saw her, too, leaning out the window to feed some of her cats. She saw me and smiled. As she started to raise her hand to wave at me, the bombs IOI had planted outside detonated, and the entire stack exploded into an apocalyptic pillar of flame….

And this time, I couldn’t pretend Sorrento was to blame for their deaths. I was the one who had pushed the button. I had done this….

But I wasn’t going to have to live with the soul-crushing guilt I felt for more than a few seconds. Because the framework at the base of the flaming stack of trailers had just buckled, and now it was tilting and collapsing straight toward me.

I didn’t try to run. I didn’t even move. I just stood there and let justice take its course.