…

  Newt walked through the door of the club and straight into the player queue, followed by his team of low resolution crew members. The queue was exactly as the name implied, a digital sequence of players and NPCs as they waited to enter a new game.

  The sequence determined the order of insertion, and the players were selected in batches of 10. The batches were then randomly divided into opposing forces and assigned to a battle map. However, since there was no such thing as true randomness within the game’s programming, the NPCs used their laptop to hack the assignment algorithms and produce their preferred player groupings and maps.

  Newt soon found himself in the commander’s seat, inside the familiar turret of his Tiger tank. He performed a quick inventory of the critical controls he would need in combat, as the clock counted down to the start of the session. Errors were not uncommon during the player upload and merge process. When errors occurred, the tank was often rendered without important features, such as steering controls, or a trigger to fire the main gun. When this happened, the player had no choice but to sit out the entire session, or if the tank was mobile, to seek out an enemy player to destroy his defective vehicle so he could transition to a fully functional backup.

  His crew performed the same operational inventory and in turn, reported their status over the intercom. All systems were fully functional. As the clock ticked down to zero, Newt ordered, “Driver, advance! Max speed!”

  The tank jolted into motion and began accelerating. He checked through the viewing ports to ensure that their wingman, Tiger 227, was following them. In ambush mode, all NPC tanks fought in pairs. They could alternate their fire and make certain that enemy tanks couldn’t outflank them. This in effect doubled their fire power, halved their reloading time, and increased their ability to prevent being outmaneuvered by the enemy.

  Newt then directed the tanks to the exact coordinates on the map to place them in the best spot to score points.

  “Driver, proceed to grid coordinates … Echo 3. At the destroyed church, conceal in the rubble, facing north.”

  It was always advantageous to ambush the enemy as they rushed headlong to the objectives. The most common battlefield behavior in the game was to race to the closest objective and capture it. While this seemed intuitively correct, in reality it was suicide. The NPCs capitalized on this tactical bias to their advantage.

  The two Tigers reached Echo 3 and concealed themselves. 331 hid behind the remains of a low wall with only its main gun protruding. 227 parked behind a pile of rubble on the opposite side of the street. The enemy would come rushing down the street in single file towards their position. Once the first tank was knocked out, it would temporarily trap the following tanks. They would be vulnerable targets as they attempted to reverse out of danger. Reverse gear in all of the tanks was agonizingly slow.

  Newt’s gunner sighted the 88 down the center of the street. Unlike their usual sniping style of game play, this would be a toe to toe slugfest. At this range, one round from the Tiger’s main gun was enough to penetrate the thick frontal armor of any tank in the game. Reloading speed would be the key to maximizing points.

  Glancing over at 227, he could see its turret slowly traversing back and forth, checking for any movement amongst the bombed out buildings.

  Soon, Newt saw the enemy approaching. A line of 5 tanks rumbling towards their position. He called out, “Targets! 12 o’clock!” With a HEAT round already chambered, there was nothing to do but wait until the first tank was close enough.

  Newt could sense the gunner’s nervousness at so many enemy tanks closing in on their position. He said in an almost soothing tone, “Hold your fire. Just let them get closer … closer.” The enemy tanks were so close now they could hear their engines howling as they raced to capture Alpha.

  “Fire!” The round smashed into the first tank, penetrating its frontal armor just below the turret. It lurched to a halt and began to burn. The second tank stopped and immediately tried to reverse away from the burning wreck but collided with the tank behind it. Chaos ensued. Newt could imagine the panic inside the enemy tanks. They were targets in a shooting gallery being methodically destroyed by an unseen foe.

  While Newt’s crew reloaded, Tiger 227 fired at the rear tank in order to trap the remaining tanks in between. The round glanced off the side of the turret. Shockingly, 227 had missed its target. The last tank in the line began backing down the street, away from the danger ahead.

  The loader yelled “Gun ready!”

  Newt decided to ignore the slowly retreating enemy and target the stationary 4th tank in the line. At least he would be able to trap the 2 remaining tanks. A bird in the hand.

  He called out the target for the gunner. “Shoot the 4th tank! Fire!” The gunner quickly adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger. The Tiger swayed from the gun’s recoil. Looking through his viewing port, he could see the impact of the HEAT round on the target. Dead center on the driver’s position. Smoke started to billow from the stricken vehicle.

  227 fired again, this time killing its target with one shot. Now, only one more enemy tank remained facing them.

  The crew of Tiger 331 hurried to reload the main gun. Newt watched as the enemy tank’s turret, ominously, began to rotate in their direction. “Come on guys! Move it!” The gunner peered through his targeting optics and adjusted his aim.

  Suddenly, there was a blinding flash … and then nothing.

  After a moment of oblivion, Newt became aware of his surroundings once again. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the tank was filled with smoke. He could just make out the loader laying on the floor of the turret. His digital form now a pixelated mass. The gunner was out of his seat, struggling to pull a heavy 88 shell from the magazine and reload the gun. He slid off his seat to lend a hand.

  “Get back on the gun. I’ve got this!” Newt wrestled the round into the gun and slammed the breech closed. Retaking his commander’s seat, he immediately searched for the enemy tank, only to find it engulfed in flames. Checking on 227, he was shocked to discover it too had become a flaming wreck. What the hell happened?

  Newt wondered how long he’d been offline. He couldn’t even imagine the chain of events that had resulted in so much destruction, yet somehow spared them. What he was certain of, was that there was still at least one enemy tank hiding out there, and if they didn’t move immediately, they would get drilled by another anti-tank round.

  He shouted orders and hoped the driver was still alive. “Driver advance! Turn left into the next side street.”

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  After a brief delay, Tiger 331 slowly began to move forward, toppling the stone wall it had used as cover. The tank barely crawled over the rubble, badly damaged by the hit it had taken. Newt cursed the gaming software and its arbitrary rules for assessing battle damage. It seemed to apply drivetrain malfunctions to every tank hit by an enemy round, regardless of the severity of the impact. It was a reminder of the difference between the virtual and physical world.

  After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the relative safety of the side street. He opened the commander’s hatch to vent some of the smoke, while the crew removed the loader’s body from the turret. The software allowed for some flexibility in the event of the loss of a crew member. Accordingly, the radio operator took over the loader’s job for the remainder of this session. If they didn’t lose anyone else, Tiger 331 would still be a formidable opponent for any tank in the game.

  The remaining enemy tank was hiding in one of the side streets up ahead. Newt knew that he would need to take some chances to accumulate points, and this high risk game of cat and mouse was his only option. If he got them all killed in the process, they would automatically transition to a backup vehicle. Unless of course, his player accounts had been suspended during game play. If that happened and they were killed, they would be stuck in digital limbo while they waited to be permanently deleted. There would be no Sanctuary for them. The only time NPCs were safe from deletion was when they were in the NPC club.

  Newt checked his player dashboard. They were running out of time to earn points. The friendly forces had been virtually annihilated in this session. Tiger 331 would soon be swarmed by enemy tanks looking to score the last remaining points. He would have to be much more aggressive now.

  “Listen up guys! We can still fight. The tank that shot us is hiding out there somewhere. It’s worth 8000 points if we can kill it, and we need those points.”

  He paused as he consulted the map and hastily composed a battle plan. “Okay, he’s probably expecting us to roll down the main street towards his position, to try and draw him out into the open. But instead, we’re going to head north, up this side street, and try to work our way behind the enemy. If we can surprise him, it’ll be an easy shot.”

  Then he ordered the driver to move out. “Driver, advance!”

  They began rolling up the narrow street, north, in search of their prey. Newt ordered the turret rotated 90 degrees to the right, so that it pointed down each cross street as they passed. The enemy was hiding in one of them, and if they could catch him looking the other way, one shot into the rear of their turret would earn them badly needed points. If, on the other hand, they rolled into sight with the enemy’s gun pointing in their direction, they were dead. Newt hoped his player accounts were still intact.

  Newt tensed each time they rolled past a cross street, anticipating the enemy tank coming into view. With each empty street that they passed, the likelihood of them confronting the enemy increased. Then, as they crawled through yet another blind intersection, there it was. The enemy tank was facing the opposite direction.

  “Fire!” The round tore through the enemy’s engine bay, igniting a fire.

  Then, Newt watched in horror as its turret slowly began traversing. The round must not have penetrated the crew compartment. They would be in the enemy’s sights in seconds. He could see they wouldn’t be able to reload fast enough to get another shot off.

  “Driver! Right turn, advance! Max speed!” If they couldn’t shoot the enemy, maybe they could get close enough to ram him and block his main gun from targeting them. They quickly covered the distance to the enemy. “Hit him!”

  Tiger 331 slammed into the enemy tank. The impact pinning it against a brick building. Its main gun struck the turret of 331 and stopped. They were out of immediate danger, but it was a stalemate. Both tank’s main guns were now blocked by their opponent’s turret.

  As Newt pondered how to safely extract them from this mess, the enemy’s gun began to swing in the opposite direction. Simple desperation, he thought. It was obvious there wasn’t enough clearance between the gun’s muzzle and the building. Then, he watched in disbelief as the gun’s barrel magically merged with the brick wall and continued rotating in their direction.

  Newt cursed his luck. It was incredibly inconvenient to discover this particular quirk in the game’s programming, considering the circumstances.

  He began shouting orders; “Driver, reverse! Gunner, fire as soon as the gun is clear!” It was their only chance. “Aim at the base of the turret!” The junction of the turret and hull was an obvious shot trap. A vulnerability in the enemy’s armor.

  The Tiger lurched backward and stalled. While the driver desperately tried to restart the engine, the gunner traversed the main gun. It just cleared the enemy’s turret and settled at its base. Newt closed his eyes.

  The software dampened the concussion of the point blank explosion, but it was still violent.

  He opened his eyes to a wall of smoke and flames. If the driver couldn’t get the tank restarted, they would be consumed in the inferno, along with their prey. Newt heard the engine roar to life, and the grinding of gears as the driver wrestled with the transmission. Finally, the damaged Tiger inched away from the burning wreck in fits and starts.

  Newt couldn’t recall ever being more relieved to see the interior of his tank dissolve and transform into the entrance of the NPC club. It had been a brutal session, but they had managed to score 12,000 badly needed points. He pushed through the doors to Club Kowalski, only to find it virtually empty. Killer Joe was on the laptop as usual, with a couple of high resolution NPCs milling around.

  He walked over and asked, “Where is everyone?” He had survived to the end of the session, while all the others had been knocked out. They should have already been at the club, waiting for him.

  Without glancing up from the keyboard, Joe explained, “I zipped most of the low resolution NPCs and archived them in the Sanctuary.” He stopped typing, then added, “The others were all KIA. Their accounts were suspended by the security AIs, and now … they’re stuck.”

  Newt was in shock. “Stuck? Stuck where?” He couldn’t understand how the AIs could have identified them and frozen so many accounts in just one game cycle?

  “We don’t know what happens to NPCs when their player accounts are suspended. They’re probably stored in some form of cache memory until their account is reactivated or deleted.”

  “Doesn’t the Road Map have a work around for suspended accounts or something?”

  Joe explained, “No, there’s nothing. But I did reach out to Richard to see if he had any ideas.”

  Newt was stunned at Joe’s breach of security protocol “You told Ricard we’ve got NPCs stuck in the game? No one is even supposed to know we exist!”

  “Relax, I didn’t tell him anything. I just asked if he knew how to reactivate suspended player accounts.”

  Now, more intrigued than suspicious, Newt asked, “Well, what did he say?”

  “He said he has a plan.”

  Newt was skeptical. “A plan? What plan?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Oh, so it’s a secret plan. Really? And you trust this guy?” His innate distrust of humans was evident.

  Killer Joe argued, “Listen, we’ve worked with Richard for years and he’s never deceived us.”

  “Not that we know of.”

  It seemed to Joe; this argument was a waste of time. “At least there’s a chance of getting our NPCs back. So, unless you’ve got a better plan, we’re going to trust Richard on this.” Newt was mindful that this was Joe’s call, and remained silent in spite of his objections.

  Soon, it was time for the last NPCs in the club to upload to the Sanctuary. One by one, they queued up and then disappeared from Club Kowalski for the last time. Finally, only Combat Newt 331 and Killer Joe remained.

  Newt took a last look around. He viewed the club’s crude graphics, as if seeing them for the first time. They looked cartoonish compared to the graphics in the game itself. The paint on the walls was a fuzzy green and the furniture consisted of basic pixelated shapes. And yet it was associated with so many poignant memories for him.

  Becoming nostalgic for a moment, he turned to Joe and said, “I’m going to miss this shithole.”

  Joe nodded, “Yeah.” Then he added, “There’s a copy of the club archived in the Sanctuary. We can replicate it down to the last grimy detail if we want.”

  Newt considered this for a moment. “Including the refrigerator with an endless supply of Player Ale?”

  Joe laughed and said, “See you in a few seconds.” Newt flashed him a thumbs up and then he was gone.

  As Killer Joe stepped into the queue and waited to upload, he wondered for the first time in a long time, about the amount of wealth the NPCs had amassed. The Road Map had specified a target of $75 million U.S. dollars, but they had only been able to stockpile $64 million. Was that a lot of money? Was it enough? Without any frame of reference, those questions were unanswerable.

  Thinking about his missing brothers in arms, he decided that if $64 million could buy their safe return, its value was beyond measure.