The Game Read Online Free

directly into his bloodstream. He pushes the craft closer
to the planet’s atmosphere and as it gets closer, the cockpit
begins to shake violently, as the planet’s gravitational forces
begin to play against the ship’s flight and
maneuverability.
    A flaming ball of light streaks by—barely
missing him on the left as one of the enemy ships flashes by to his
right. He banks hard to follow it and toggles forward with the
throttle controls. A boost of energy propels his craft forward and
again, he’s amazed at how real the experience is. It felt as if the
engine’s forward thrust were actually pushing him back into his
seat. The burst of speed brings him to the rear of the other craft.
He quickly adjusts the throttle to keep from passing it
by.
    His head’s up display now has two, illuminated
red lines—one vertical, the other horizontal. As the other craft
lines up in the crosshairs, the lines brighten. Paul adjusts his
trajectory and the other ship lines up perfectly. The lines flash
and a circle appears around the enemy craft. He presses the trigger
and bolts of blue light shoot forward, striking the enemy craft
midway between the rear engines. The other ship explodes. Metal
debris passes around him and bounces violently off the ship. The
cockpit shudders with each impact.
    “ Okay, maybe I was a little close,”
says Paul, pulling the fighter up and away from the planet. Behind
him, one of the other fighters mirrors his movements. Flaming
projectiles streak by. He banks left, then immediately right in an
attempt to shake his pursuer.
    More enemy fire streaks by. This time from
above. “What?” He cranes his head up. In a world made up almost
completely of lefts and rights, Paul didn’t expect an attack from
there. Space isn’t limited to the horizontal—there’s also the
vertical plane, and an infinite number of directions in between. In
the vacuum of space, there is no up or down and the laws of gravity
are thrown out the window.
    More enemy fire streaks by from below. They
attack from three different directions and he doesn’t know which
way to escape. His hesitation ends the game. Red lights strobe,
stabbing his eyes, causing him to squint. He jerks the craft to the
right but the action comes too late. The sphere fills with orange
and yellow flames and as he watches, the virtual craft disintegrate
around him.
    The illusion of space evaporates like a wisp of
smoke and the words game over scrolls across the sphere’s
shimmering surface.
* * *
    This is what it’s like to die. When he was
young, adults explained death as a passing from this world to the
next, from the physical realm to the spiritual one. More often than
not, they said it was a peaceful transition, as if the mind is
gently floating through a tunnel toward a bright, warm light. Rob
sees none of these things. What he sees is complete, utter
darkness. What he hears is absolute silence—well, that’s not
entirely true. He can hear a soft, low roar—as if he is sick with
pneumonia and fluid congests his head. The feeling is
relentless.
    Then something happens. There’s no light at the
end of the tunnel—more a feeling that he is rising and about to
surface from a dark, oceanic abyss. It’s a feeling of speed even
though there is no movement; there is no wind against his skin; no
pressure against his flesh. He feels as if he is waking from a
dream—even though he hasn’t been dreaming.
    Where am I? he asks, but the words do
not come from his mouth, they are just there, appearing from
nothing, echoing through the darkness as if the darkness has the
substance to propel sound.
    Suddenly, there is light. Not a tunnel, but a
thin line of brilliant energy, a horizon reflecting a bright sun.
Maybe he’s not dead after all.
* * *
    Paul unclasps the harness belt and climbs to
the floor. His legs shake and he places a hand on the side of the
cockpit to steady himself. “Wow,” he says. He’s never felt so
unsteady before.
    He crosses to the door