Zero Ping

by Bill Bowler

Part 1, Part 2 appear
in this issue.

conclusion

N4$TyGrrl stood next to the Count and I heard her lilting voice, “There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team,’” and his lizard croak, “Hooah!” Then she did a little dance animation and he did a little dance animation. What the hell was going on here?

I was paralyzed in disbelief when RAMdacula leveled his rocket launcher in my direction. He got a target lock and the missile screamed from the barrel, tracked me as I rolled to the left, and splattered pieces of me all over the room.

I respawned on the ridge and was racing back down to the flag room when,

“Count_RAMdacula has left the game” popped up on my screen, then

“N4$TyGrrl has left the game.”

Both at once? Was it just a coincidence? What could it mean? Did they know each other? Had they gone to some chat room? What about me? It was driving me nuts. I was totally worthless for the rest of the game waiting for her to come back. But she never came.

More than ever, I felt the urge to find N4$TyGrrl, to see her, to be with her. I had to explain to her what I was feeling. There was something going on between her and RAMdacula. That was obvious, the way he didn’t shoot her when he had the chance. You could tell there was more to it.

What did she see in him, anyway?? He wasn’t even human! He was a goddam alien reptile hybrid! They were ugly, too, with their skull faces and big fangs and little green lizard tails waggin’. How could she possibly be attracted to him? It was incredible. I was going to frag his reptile butt every chance I got. I was going to make his life miserable.

But I had to contact N4$TyGrrl. It was vital. I had checked the Forum board but she kept her e-mail private. Can’t blame her with all the kooks running around. Instant Messaging would be ideal. It’s the most personal. But for now, I guess all I could do was try and chat with her during a game to get the ball rolling. But it wasn’t going to be easy.

Next morning, I walked to work lost in thought. The air was crisp; the sun was bright. I felt pretty good for once, all things considered. Sure, problems were piling up, the fur was flying, but that was normal. C’est la vie, right? In fact, at the moment, I felt better than usual, somehow, better than I had felt in a long time. I felt stronger, faster. My stamina and endurance were up and all my senses seemed sharper. I don’t think I was imagining it; I was getting more powerful.

I took some deep breaths. Bracing. I made a conscious decision to think good thoughts today and not get bogged down in all the existential crises. Bio-feedback. Accentuate the positive. I picked up coffee and a bagel with lox spread at the deli and crossed Broadway to our office building. I went up the steps, through the revolving doors, swiped my card key, and pushed the turnstile. But it didn’t budge. I swiped the card again. Nothing. I walked over to the guy at the desk in the lobby.

“My card’s not working. Can you let me in?”

“Hold on,” said the guy. He took my card and typed the number into his computer. “You’re not coming up,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” I felt a sharp pain shoot through the back of my head on the right side.

“Your name’s not on the list.”

My head throbbed again. “I don’t understand. I’ve worked here for three years.”

“Your name’s not on the list.”

“So gimme my card back.”

“Sorry, buddy. Can’t do it. I have to confiscate it. Building policy.”

It was a dead end. There was probably some simple explanation, some clerical error or computer glitch, but there was no reasoning with this mindless drone. He was just following orders.

I walked back out to the street, my head pounding. I hit the sidewalk and lost myself in the city crowd. I needed some time to figure out what was going on. A lot of weird stuff was going down. I don’t know where it was all heading but it didn’t look good. I better be ready to bail if things get too hot. Better have Plan B ready.

But I didn’t, really. I was hung out to dry. I needed the job, needed the money, I was just barely squeaking by as it was. In fact, I was slipping deeper into debt. The stupid credit card was maxed out and I couldn’t even cover the interest. I walked up Broadway, lost in thought. I couldn’t make sense out of it. Maybe I was too wrought up and my mind was playing tricks on me. Maybe I needed a little break, you know, to get my head together.

As I stepped off the curb on the south side of 63rd St., I heard a loud crack and a piece of brick flew loose from the corner of a building, spraying me with dust. It snapped me out of my daydream. People around me were startled and had jumped away from the corner, afraid of falling debris. I heard another crack and something zinged by me and bored a little hole in the asphalt.

I ran across 63rd, under a scaffold, ducked behind a mailbox and scanned the rooftops across Broadway. On top of an apartment building on the northwest corner, I saw someone with a rifle.

“Up there!!” I screamed and pointed. “On the roof!!!”

Whoever it was ran across the roof at top speed to the very edge and leapt across to the next roof top, doing a nice flip in the middle high over the alley, and raced out of sight.

In abject terror, I ran home, went up to my room and locked the door. I threw my coat on the bed and sat at my desk, trembling. The incident on the street must have been a random shooting but still, those shots landed a little too close to me personally for comfort. I just wished these weirdos would take random shots at someone else.

Anyway, it was over. I tried to breathe easy. The cops would catch that kook. But I had hit bottom. I was cracking up. I had begun to doubt everything, to question my life, my convictions, my feelings, everything, even my love for N4$TyGrrl.

Why kid yourself? Better to face the facts. This whole thing could be just a sick joke. Wishful thinking. I had no way of knowing, really. The high and mighty Count_RAMdacula, our lord and master? Gimme a break. Probably some 12 year old juvenile delinquent hacker in Sweden or somewhere, for all I know.

N4$TyGrrl? The image of a hairy slob in a guinea-t with a huge belly, munching on a salami and provolone hero, spilling warm beer on the keyboard, forced its way into my brain. It was a nightmare. Horrible. Pain seared my heart. My hopes, my plans, the future — everything collapsed into rubble, leaving nothing. It couldn’t be. I wouldn’t let it happen. There was too much at stake, but nothing I did or said or thought made any difference. Everything was just unfolding, roaring down the tracks like a runaway train. Best thing to do is just go limp and go with the flow. All resistance is futile.

Of course, I’d have to call Bossman and straighten out the little misunderstanding about the employee list, but I couldn’t deal with that now. I was too tired. My head was pounding. I might be getting sick. Better to chill out today and get some rest and straighten it all out tomorrow when my head was clearer. Without thinking, I pushed the button and turned on the computer.

Most people were at work, I guess, but I found a server with only one player logged on: N4$TyGrrl. This was it. A chance to talk one-on-one with no outsiders shooting up the place for once. It was now or never. With a sense of foreboding, I clicked into the game to find her. It was time to put the cards on the table.

I spawned into KosovoValley, a huge, detailed out-door level with green blades of grass, swaying trees, low hills and shallow valleys, with lots of dirt paths and tunnels and a long distance between the opposing bases that took five minutes to transverse. N4$TyGrrl was somewhere out of sight. With no other players logged in, this was a golden opportunity to spend some uninterrupted quality time with her, to try to communicate and clarify things and, hopefully, get our relationship to the next level.

I tried the radio, “N4$TyGrrl. Do you copy?”

“Hi,” came back the reply.

“Where is everyone?”

“Don’t know.”

So far so good. A real dialog was getting established. Feeling like there was no tomorrow, I rolled the dice,

“Meet me at the trees by the waterfall near the center. You know where that is?”

“Roger.”

With a pounding heart, I moved out onto the beautiful expanse of countryside that separated Blue Base from Red Base. Trees with high-resolution pixilated leaves swayed around me. Mist shrouded mountains rose in the distance beyond the top of the forest. I could hear birds chirping and even the buzz of a fly.

My footsteps echoed as I crossed a wooden bridge over the gently lapping river that wound through the map. I could see fish darting to and fro beneath the translucent surface. A herd of deer, startled, dashed across a meadow to my left. I turned my eyes up and gazed at the sky. Wispy clouds drifted through a gorgeous myriad of reds, oranges and pinks. Two huge yellow orbs were setting on the horizon. A hawk soared high above me.

The wall and towers of Red Base loomed far in the distance. I scanned the battlements through the high-powered scope on my sniper rifle but still no other players were in sight. The server seemed empty. I crossed a stream by hopping from rock to rock and entered the shadows of the secluded little grove of swaying trees near a gurgling waterfall.

She was there already, standing motionless, in black mesh stockings; hanging out of a skimpy bikini, long blond hair framing her fine, symmetrical features. Her eyes followed me as I moved left, then right, but always closer. She was in Red, and I in Blue; but it made no difference. She made no move to raise the flak cannon cradled lightly on the bend of her right arm. I hit F2, and launched the “wave” animation. She waved back. I hit F3 and did a little victory dance. She started dancing, too! I moved forward, right up to her so we were almost touching and her face filled the screen.

“Tks 4 coming,” I typed.

“Rgr.”

“Kewl map.”

“Yup.”

“NG.”

“?”

My heart was pounding and my hands were trembling so my fingers slipped on the keys. “Wjats yr email?”

No reply. I glanced at my modem light to make sure I was still on line. No problem there, still connected, but still no reply. Her face filled my screen. Without pulling the trigger, I moved my cursor slowly, caressingly across her cheek and down gently to her breast. Her eyes followed but she offered no resistance. My mouth went dry and I broke into a sweat.

Suddenly, she stepped back and raised her flak cannon. I dodged left, but it was not me she was aiming at. I spun around to see Count_RAMdacula and MrPoopiePantS coming towards us from the direction of Blue Base.

In a tremendous irony, by a quirk of fate, the luck of the draw, the Count, PoopiePantS and I had all spawned into the blue team and were teammates at the moment, while N4$TyGrrl was red. How ironic! How absurd! I, of course, would never under any circumstances shoot N4$TyGrrl or harm her in any way.

But now, my “team mate” RATdacula opened fire, not at N4$TyGrrl, but at ME! TK!!! Team Killer!! Shooting his own teammates! The lowest of the low. The Benedict Arnolds of gaming. I dodged right and splashed into the stream. My sneakers got soaked with ice cold water, sending cold shivers down my spine. RAMdacula was still firing in my direction. I hit F5,

“I’m on your team!”

“Ha Ha Ha,” came the reply. “Phear Me!” he roared in rage and kept firing at me like there was no tomorrow.

The rounds sprayed from his barrel and I felt a burning pain rip into my left side. With a groan, I shot off a rocket in his direction, collapsed into a cave entrance and stumbled down a stairway into one of the dimly lit underground tunnels that wind like a labyrinth under the central area.

I was in slo-mo. I could barely move. My vision was blurring. I could not lift my rifle or aim. My left side was on fire and my right leg was in excruciating pain, I could not take another step without blacking out. I had to report RAMdacula to the server admin. Time to boot that sonofab*tch for team killing. It was totally against the rules.

With superhuman effort, I clung to consciousness and, wracked with pain, managed somehow to raise my left arm and touch “Esc” to exit the game, but nothing happened. I touched Esc again, and again, and still nothing. In agony, I tried F12, Shift+F12, nothing. Still in the tunnel. And still, the burning fire in my right side and the unbearable pain in my leg.

In an act of final desperation, with the last of my strength, I hit Alt-Ctrl-Del. Nothing. I must have totally crashed out my machine. A bullet zinged in the sand near me. I looked up to see RAMdacula and PoopiePantS coming through the tunnel entrance behind me. They took cover behind some rocks.

But if I was crashed out of the program, my screen should be frozen. How could RAMdacula and PoopiePantS still move? I fell forward onto the keyboard and everything swirled and dissolved into white, then blue, then black... The last thing I remember is crawling down the tunnel towards a pinpoint of light... and somehow, I heard Ma’s voice coming from somewhere in the distance...

“Wally?... Wally!”

Ma’s voice echoed in the dark tunnel, calling my name.

“Maa!,” I screamed out. “Help me, Ma. They hurt me bad.”

Nothing but silence now. I dragged myself through the sand towards the pinpoint of light. I heard a click, something whistled through the air, getting louder, closer.

* * *

Ma came into the room and stopped, puzzled to find only an empty chair in front of the terminal, a pair of soaking wet sneakers, and a dark stain on the floor. The “General Protection Fault” window was still on the blue screen.