Saturday, June 6, 2009

Chapter One - Part 3


"What?" I couldn’t cipher what it might mean in my world or how it could "mess things up".

Kilo smiled, but I wasn’t encouraged.

He continued, "The gaming that goes on here,” he pointed at the floor, "...is conveyed real-time to the fronts. Your character, Squasher, actually engages the enemy through Grinder robots. When the robot, you’re in gets ripped, you’re just Repop'd into another, and you re-engage, you are in essence the AI for each robot." His eyes darted back and forth, watching mine for reaction. I must’ve looked shocked.

"So… the enemy… robots or real people?" I tried qualifying my thoughts.

"How would that matter?"

I glanced up at the surveillance camera above my cot.

Kilo leaned forward. "Not to worry. This is an informal qualifier. Even if you’re watched, we’re measuring very little."

I knew better. "It matters. I’d like to understand my duty." An honest reply, even if only partial, is crucial. The more military its tone, the better.

"Like any other military engagement your duty is to your commanders and to the effort. The new level that you would go into at entry confirms your ability and expertise. Your kill to spawn ratio, as your stats are now, with 37 kills for every spawn is exceptional and if you keep it close to that metric ‘til you confirm, you will advance."

I stared at the floor as he explained, keeping myself as expressionless as possible. He continued, "Advancement through these strategy levels are very rapid but carefully chosen, if you did not have at least some notion as to what this is all about you may have balked at a disclosure inherent in the system and this would have resulted in an unacceptable fiscal loss as well as a catastrophic failure in the field."

He rose from the seat and got eye level with me saying, "This Intel is designed as introductory only, but it is still considered classified. Never speak to anyone about these things unless it is they who bring up the topic. And always discuss only the material that they have mentioned never volunteer intelligence."

He then walked by as I leaned against my fold down table, moving toward the door, he turned with his hand on the door saying, "If you decide to confirm..." He looked at my small, very clean room with a smirk, "your digs will get a lot bigger." He pushed my door open and said, "Hustle up you got Boots to train at the top of the hour."

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