[Republished] A World Gone Virtual (8 in Science Fiction 3/8/13)

Chapter Nine

Jared kicks a cluster of pebbles, scattering them down the sidewalk. He's chewing his lip again, hands clenched at his sides. He glares moodily over his shoulder at the GPA building as we walk away from it.

I lead the others into an alley and key the code for my Jeep on my CyberSphere-issued phone's inventory. AJ doesn't even blink when the car pops into existence.

We climb in and Jared immediately launches into a rant about the Global Protection Agency and its (he says) prohibitive policies. I pull out into the street and head for my apartment.

"...controlling bastards, all of them," he's grumbling from the back seat. "Think because they're the only ones to make a realistic virtual reality that we have to play by their rules. And to think that some HAL knockoff is giving the orders..." He scowls but says nothing more.

"I think the Director is an interesting person," AJ says beside me. "It must be quite the job to manage an entire simulation of the whole world." She pauses. "And she said that she and...and the rest of us...could think like humans. Well, other humans. I feel like a human. Also, it's kind of rude to compare her to an evil supercomputer that wants to kill everyone, Jared--"

He snorts. "She's a machine."

"So am I."

He doesn't say anything to that.

We hear sirens as we are nearing the entrance to the freeway. The reason why is just a dozen or so yards ahead: A white truck is weaving through traffic as a squad car is closing in, other cars scurrying out of their way.

"Is that one of us?" Jared wants to know.

"One of you? Like, a User?" AJ says. "The Director said--"

I nod. "Yeah, one of us. You guys wouldn't be this stupid."

"Because we're subconsciously being influenced by the Director or because...?"

I sigh. "Because, since this is a virtual world, some people treat it like a game. That kind of thinking gets people deleted. It's more like a massive social networking site."

"SHIT!" Jared yells and my eyes snap back to the road. The white truck and its pursuers are only three ahead of us now. I watch, gripping the steering wheel, as three people--two from the back seat and one on the passenger side--lean out of their open windows with what look like handguns.

Sharp cracks fill the air as they begin shooting. To my horror, they're taking shots at the cars around them. A van suddenly veers away from them and smashes into the retaining wall on the side of the road. Cars skid to a stop or speed up to avoid being caught in the firing line.

The police officers are returning fire. Thick smoke suddenly spits off the truck's tires; two of them have been shot out. The truck skids, careening into the car next to it and sending them both into the retaining wall. Finally the friction grinds them to a halt. This stops everything on the freeway, so we are given a clear view of the proceedings.

As the police are moving in to apprehend the suspects, a second car stops beside the wreck. A black sedan with tinted windows, the seal and signature of the GPA stenciled on the doors. The doors open and two agents get out. They draw their weapons and advance on the truck. The police seem to recognize their higher authority and have moved to help the people in the car the truck hit. They appear ok, just shaken up a bit.

The driver of the van is not moving, we can see as we pull up a few feet away as the traffic grinds to a standstill. A bullet has turned the driver's window into a spiderweb. A small dark hole is just above the man's left temple and the opposite wall and window is spattered with blood...and other things...