Kingmaker (15 page)

“What does that mean?”

“It basically means they’ll pay me to play.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Alexei says. “How much?”

“Not very much,” the boys says. “Definitely not enough to overthrow a government, that’s for sure.”

“You never know,” Alexei says. “But even if it’s not, it might be a good way to train for the next tournament.”

“That’s two years away,” Dre says. “Those people need my help now.”

Alexei is trying to think of something constructive to say when all four wheels of the Brilliance pivot and the vehicle carves a smooth arc into a garage entrance. The auto-drive navigation system chimes.

“Arrival time: eight fifty-six. You are four minutes early.”

The hatch in front of them swings open and Alexei and Dre step out. Smiling at them from the carpeted curb is a petite brown-eyed and raven-haired woman in a sheer charcoal blouse and a pair of impeccably fitted white pants that somehow manage to be almost obscenely seductive while still maintaining the requisite modicum of corporate professionalism. Alexei tries not to leer as the woman attempts to identify her guests by checking her handset.

“Mr. Strasser and Mr. Drovosek?”

She pronounces Alexei’s name almost flawlessly and with a fairly convincing Russian accent. Alexei gives Dre a chance to respond, but the boy is looking down at his shoes. “Yes, that’s us,” Alexei finally says.

“Just follow the hall,” the woman tells them, gesturing to the glass door behind her, “and take the escalator at the end. Mr. Fielding is waiting for you upstairs.”

“Thank you.”

“
Dobro pozhalovat
,” the woman says with a smile that, under different circumstances, would have Alexei clearing his calendar all the way through sunrise the next morning. When she touches her handset, the
hatch on the Brilliance swings closed and the vehicle begins rolling forward to find the spot in which it has just been instructed to park.

The escalator ascends in a spiral clearly designed to conceal what’s at the top, and hence to build up a little suspense and anticipation. Even as he is sulking, Dre cannot help but turn and look above and behind him. As the lobby opens up, they see that it is several stories tall, and although the building appears opaque from the street, from the inside, all the outer walls are transparent. The ceiling consists of dozens of irregular cuts of mirrored glass from which dangle intricate, interlocking, and slowly rotating mobiles. There are at least a dozen multicopter drones negotiating the obstacles with incredible precision—darting through diminishing gaps, rolling and banking through opening slits, and occasionally yielding to one another when their paths cross. In the center of the room, there is a giant concrete cylinder with several glass screens curved perfectly along the base of the column, each one showing the perspective of a different drone. Where the screens end, there are thick glass risers embedded in the concrete which form an almost invisible spiral staircase leading up to a glass catwalk suspended by thin cables and providing passage into the constantly metamorphosing world of the drones.

Alexei can’t see a reception desk, but among all the small groups of people purposefully crossing the lobby, one man stands still with his hands clasped behind his back and a smile on his face big enough to show discolored teeth.

“Welcome to Pearl Knight,” the man says as Alexei and the boy approach. His wispy hair is a nicotine yellow, and his eyebrows are so light they are hard to see against his ruddy complexion. His teeth are just stained enough to complement the overall flaxen effect.

The spectacle of the lobby has engaged Dre, and he suddenly appears much less sullen. When the man offers his hand, the boy forgets his moodiness and takes it without hesitation.

“I’m Noah Fielding.”

“Andre,” the boy says. “Strasser.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Andre.” The man turns to Alexei. “And you must be Mr. Drovosek. I hope I’m pronouncing that correctly.”

“Close enough,” Alexei says, though Fielding could clearly do with some Russian lessons from the receptionist downstairs. The two men shake firmly.

“It’s a spectacular building, isn’t it? This is one of seventeen we have all over the world—each one unique, but all just as magnificent.”

“It doesn’t look like much from the outside,” Alexei says.

“We try not to attract too much attention from the street,” Fielding says. “But inside, we can do whatever we want.”

Dre is looking back up at the ceiling. “Do they ever crash?”

“Never,” Fielding says. “They’re programmed to explore the world up there any way they want, and to avoid contact with all obstacles. After we installed it, we threw tennis balls up there to try to trip them up, but they’ve never made a single mistake. They even recognize themselves in the mirrors.”

“What happens when they need power?”

“They find their way to a charging station, then take off again when they’re ready. They’ve been up there day and night for over six years, which actually makes them pretty out of date, but we’ve been so busy, we haven’t had time to replace them.”

“Sublime,” is all the boy can think to say.

“Indeed they are.”

“Can I go up there?”

“Why don’t you save that for the way out,” the man says. “I have something to show you that I think you’ll find much more interesting.” He taps his cheek below his eye in order to indicate Dre’s prosthetic. The glow is gradually transitioning from orange to red. “You aren’t recording, are you?”

“No,” the boy says. “It can, but I’m not.”

“Good. In that case, follow me.”

As they walk, the man turns to Alexei. “Are you Andre’s legal guardian, Mr. Drovosek?”

“No. He lives with me, but he’s an emancipated minor.”

“Ah,” the man says. “Well I appreciate you accompanying him nonetheless.”

“We look out for each other,” Alexei says.

They stop in front of the elevator bank, but the man does not reach for the wall. All the doors are perfectly round and consist of several brushed steel blades which converge like the aperture of a camera lens. The door closest to them opens by the blades swiftly and silently retracting. Fielding steps inside, and after Alexei and Dre follow, they are addressed by a formal and meticulous female voice.

“Good morning, Mr. Fielding.”

“Good morning, Pearl. Lower Observation Deck C, please.”

“Yes, Mr. Fielding.” The blades constrict. “Just one moment.”

“And make sure all the lights are off on the main floor.”

“I understand, Mr. Fielding. I’ve turned the external lights off, but kept the internal lights on for the safety of you and your guests.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Pearl.”

“You’re welcome.”

The elevator is a cylindrical brushed steel capsule without so much as a single button or panel to interrupt its flawless lines. As they ease into a smooth accelerated descent, Alexei feels almost weightless. The contraption is clearly electromagnetically operated as opposed to being mechanical.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I invited you here,” Fielding says to the boy. “But before I get to that, there are two things I want to explain: first, why Pearl Knight makes MAD; and second, why we give it away for free.”

The capsule decelerates so gently that it isn’t until the door dilates into a wide opening that Alexei is certain they’ve completely stopped. He and the boy follow Fielding out into a long, black glass tube. It is lit from the inside, and since the space outside the tube is dark, the reflection makes it impossible to see what’s around them.

“MAD isn’t actually a game,” the man explains. He is strolling slowly along the length of the tube, his hard leather heels striking a high muted tone against the dense glass surface. Alexei and Andre stay just behind, peering futilely through the glare into the blackness. “It’s more of a simulation. Did you know that?”

The boy tries cupping his hands around his eyes to see into the darkness. “No.”

Fielding stops and turns. “Now that you know that, any idea why we’d give it away for free?”

The boy shakes his head.

“Pearl,” the man says. “Invert the lights.”

“Yes, Mr. Fielding.”

The illuminated strip above their heads fades as spotlights come up outside.

“We give it away so we can find the best pilots in the world.”

The room the glass tube bisects is massive in every dimension, and is lined on both sides with the menacing and bristling machinery of war. The mechs on the right are smaller than the height of the tube, but as the models get larger, they begin to rise high up into the space above them. On the other side of the room is a long line of aerial drones, each parked at a perfect forty-five degree angle, and each hung with its maximum payload.

“This is something not many people have seen,” the man says. He gives his guests a few more moments to take in what’s around them. “So what do you think?”

“You mean these things are all
real
,” the boy says. He seems to be stating a fact rather than asking a question.

“Absolutely,” Fielding says. He has started walking again and Andre and Alexei follow. “Pearl Knight Holdings manages a lot of different kinds of businesses. One of those businesses happens to be a video game studio, and another happens to be a defense contractor. MAD is where those two businesses intersect.”

They have reached the Shark class of mechs, and the boy stops.

“There’s your Mako,” the man says. “How does it look in real life?”

“A lot bigger.”

“It’s also a lot more fun to pilot in real life,” the man says. “You want to give it a try?”

The boy raises his eyebrows. “Right now?”

Fielding smiles. “Everything in this room is technically functional, but nothing is actually armed or charged. I’m not asking you if you want to play around with models, Andre. I’m offering you a job.”

The boy looks at Alexei, then back to Fielding. “A job doing what?”

“Piloting some of the most advanced military hardware the world has ever seen. Basically doing exactly what you did in the tournament, except doing it for real.”

“But I lost,” the boy says. In his tone, there is just a touch of implication that Fielding must be an idiot. “I didn’t even finish in the top three.”

“You might have lost, but I’ve never seen anyone so effective with a Mako before. You should have seen how excited everyone was watching you play, Andre. We’ve all probably watched the replay at least a dozen times. And if I’m not mistaken, you only have a few months’ experience under your belt, is that correct?”

The boy shrugs. “About that.”

Fielding takes a moment to appraise the boy. “Andre, do you even know why you lost?”

“Because I walked right out into the open like a dumbass.”

The man shakes his head. “That’s not it at all,” he tells the boy. “You lost because everyone left in the game teamed up against you. There was absolutely no way you could have beaten three medium to heavy mechs, all working together. Nobody could have.”

“Doesn’t really matter, though, does it?” the boy says. “You should be talking to the winner instead of me.”

“Believe me, we’re talking to her, too,” Fielding says. “But we’re primarily interested in you. You see, Andre, it isn’t necessarily about who wins the tournament. It’s about who we think has the best instincts. I understand you grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood. Is that right?”

“Yeah, you might say that.”

“Well, we think that’s given you instincts that most of our players have never had a chance to develop, and that simply can’t be instilled through training. I mean look at what you did, Andre. You killed four out of ten mechs with nothing but a little Mako. That’s practically unheard of. And you might not have killed the first mech, but you certainly lured him to his death. There’s no doubt in my mind that if everyone hadn’t teamed up against you, you would have won the whole thing.”

“So why isn’t it against the rules, then?”

“What, forming alliances? It’s not against the rules because there are no rules. Remember, it isn’t about who wins. Theoretically you can win just by ghosting the entire time and letting everyone else slaughter each other. You’d walk away with the money, but you sure as hell wouldn’t be standing
here
right now. What we’re interested in is how people play—not who wins. And you have just the right balance of intelligence, aggression, patience, resourcefulness, and most of all, instinct. Andre, watching you play was truly inspiring.”

Alexei puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s right, Dre. You’re very gifted.”

“You certainly are,” Fielding says. “And now we want to give you the opportunity to put that gift to use doing something much bigger than just playing games. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” the boy says. “Would I have to move again?”

“That’s up to you. You can move if you want, or you can stay here and we can fly you to wherever you’re needed.”

“You mean like into war zones?”

“Absolutely not,” Fielding insists. “You’re far too valuable to ever be put in harm’s way. All of our operations are conducted from fully secure remote command centers. You’ll be thousands of miles away from the action. We can and will guarantee your safety at all times. That’s a promise.”

“Where are the command centers?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that. In fact, most of the time, you won’t even be allowed to know where you are. But I can tell you that we have several permanent installations in the United States, and several mobile command centers, including marine, submarine, and aerial. But we also have some very fast passenger jets and priority access to every major airport in the country, which means you can live wherever you want. On most days, we can pick you up an hour or two before your shift, and have you home in time for dinner.”

“Would I get paid for doing this?”

The man does a poor job at stifling a chuckle. “Yes, Andre. You will most certainly get paid for this. Your job would be to pilot trillions of dollars’ worth of extremely advanced hardware. There are only a handful of people on the entire planet who can do that. It’s in everyone’s best interest to make sure you are extremely well compensated.”