Slum Online (27 page)

Well, to be precise, I became Hashimoto, except today, Hashimoto was role-playing Jack. I looked just like him: a middleweight snake boxer. From the outside, it would have been impossible to tell the diff erence.

The time was nine
PM
. Still a little before peak time on the server. Hashimoto, in Jack-guise, stood in a relatively deserted Sanchōme. Tetsuo stood a short distance away, rotating his camera at regular intervals.

> You really think he’ll bite?

Tetsuo asked. I entered my response.

> Absolutely.

> There isn’t a single pixel moving around here besides us. > Recall that I said it might take ten or even twenty attempts. > Look, if you think you know who might have done it, why don’t we just ask them?

> Knowing who stole the trophy in RL is immaterial. I know what I’m doing. Leave this to me.

> There you go again.

> Someone may be watching us. I suggest we speak no further.

> Fine, fine. Whatever you say.

> We should get started soon, with your leave. Same as before.

I did indeed have a pretty good idea of who the thief was, but there was a chance I had missed the mark. Still, I didn’t really think that mattered. In this place where the only meaning lay in action, the thief ’s name was merely information. It was knowing
why
he had done what he had that was important.

This was the fift h such mock battle between Tetsuo and Hashimoto/Jack. I had already planted rumors in such a way that it would reach the ears of my suspect that Ganker Jack had returned. If my hypothesis was correct, a Jack reboot would be the one temptation the suspect could not resist.

I worked the controls, making Jack retreat back down a narrow alleyway. It was important that we always began our mock battles in precisely the correct predetermined locations.

> Let us begin.

I swapped controller plugs on the game console and pressed enter on my laptop. Jack sprang into action. When he had closed to three and a half steps, Tetsuo too began to move. Dodging Jack’s opening kick by a hair, Tetsuo went on the off ensive. Jack ran, Tetsuo in hot pursuit. A series of attacks and counters played out on my twenty-four-inch display, almost too fast for my eye to follow.

Obviously, I would never be able to control Jack as well as Jack’s original player. Trying to pretend otherwise would only reveal me as an impostor to anyone with any combat experience, and my mark was one of the best fighters in Versus Town. So I had to improvise. Instead of controlling Jack’s moves directly, I left that to a program on my laptop. Hashimoto-in-Jack-guise was free to engage in pitch-perfect choreographed combat against his sworn enemy.

Tetsuo dashed in close, grabbing Jack by the collar for a throw. Jack brushed Tetsuo’s arms aside and the two of them rotated 45 degrees before separating again.

I could picture Etsuro Sakagami working his controller, far away, at the other end of a fiber optic cable in Saitama. Jack was merely playing out the predetermined steps in a solo dance, but with Tetsuo’s accompaniment, the dance became a battle royal. Tetsuo lunged and countered at preplanned intervals. There was a margin of error of only a few seconds in the entire fight. He truly was the best fighter in Sanchōme. I don’t think anyone else in the game could have pulled off such a perfectly choreographed dance.

Jack and Tetsuo wore away at each other’s defenses as their fight slowly moved deeper and deeper into the backstreets of Sanchōme.

Jack swept gracefully across the screen—a dance I could no longer even pretend to be following. Th ere was a diff erent personality within Hashimoto’s body now. Now I was the observer, watching him and Tetsuo spar. I had no idea what Etsuro was feeling—only my laptop felt the force of his kicks and quick jabs—but to me, it looked like a happy reunion of two old friends trading blows beneath a clear blue sky.

The fight went on for ten minutes, when history was reversed (for the fifth time) and Ganker Jack sealed his victory over Tetsuo. Sprawled at Jack’s feet, Tetsuo’s body became translucent, then faded entirely.

Our suspect was still a no-show. I yanked the USB cable out of the console to replace the controller that would once again put Jack under my control.

A bubble appeared in a corner of the screen.

> U Jack?

It took me three tries to get the controller plugged in. As I was fumbling with the cable, another message appeared.

> R U Jack?

The controller clicked home. First I checked to make sure that Hashimoto and the new arrival were three and a half steps apart, then I began to type. From here on out, the fight would be Hashimoto’s. Tetsuo fought with the controller, Hashimoto with the keyboard. And I couldn’t leave this coming battle to my laptop bot.

> Regrettably, I am not.

> U beat Tetsuo.

> We were merely putting on a performance. I knew that if Tetsuo fought Jack, you would appear.

There was a pause before he replied.

> What?

> I am pleased to meet you. I am Hashimoto, gatherer of information various and sundry. It was you who sent Pak’s trophy to Tetsuo, yes?

> U got proof?

> Plenty. You see, it was I who spread the rumor that Tetsuo and Jack would be fighting again, this time for possession of the trophy. Only one who knew that Tetsuo possessed the trophy in the first place would give the rumor any credence at all, i.e., you.

The man did not move.

He was a snake boxer, middleweight, wearing a nondescript martial arts uniform, with a nondescript texture on his face. It was exactly as I had predicted. This was the nameless snake boxer who had made top four in the second season tournament.

A moment passed before more text began to appear above the man’s head.

> OK. What now?

> I would like you to answer some questions.

> OK.

> Why did you send the trophy to Tetsuo?

Neither the man nor Hashimoto moved a pixel. No one else was in sight from where we stood. Th e only motion on the screen was the text scrolling above their heads.

> To give credit where it was due.

> But he DID receive due credit. I know of Tetsuo’s strength.

As do you, as did Jack. What other need could there possibly be?

> Everyone thinks Pak’s number 1.

> Indeed, he is properly number one. He did win the tournament where such things are decided.

> Pak’s a n00b!

> That has nothing to do with weakness or strength. That trophy was made to honor the one who took first place in the tournament. Not to honor the best fighter in Sanchōme. What Tetsuo deserves is a trophy for defeating Jack in a back alley.

> Like anyone would want that.

> In this town, there is no such thing as “money.” There are no electricity bills, gas bills, water bills. Th ere is nothing real here at all. Th e only thing that counts in Versus Town is action. All else, including titles and glory, eventually fades. Here, our actions are the only things that remain.

As I typed, the image of a saber-toothed tiger rose in my mind. Saber-toothed tigers were carnivores known to have existed in prehistoric times. The theory was that each generation of tiger had longer fangs than the previous, until they became too long and the species died out entirely. We here in Versus Town were much the same. This virtual place online would not exist forever. Its popularity would die out in half a year or so, and eventually the servers would shut down, leaving only a few memories and random data on a hard disk somewhere. This only made it all the more important that we make the most of our virtual selves—and our virtual fangs—while they lasted.

> Lol. What R U talking about? I have no idea.

> That is acceptable.

> So what? U want me to make an apology or something?

> There is no need.

> ???

> You need say nothing. I will have the trophy returned to Pak. I will keep your identity a secret.

> How do I know you’re telling the truth?

> Tetsuo asked me merely to solve the case, not find the thief.

> U going to protect me? Why?

I saw the snake boxer’s body twitch. A stray finger on the controller, perhaps.

> Consider it a consolation prize, for both of us.

> What? Th is is a prize? What does this have to do with prizes?

> Everything.

> lol. What’s that supposed to mean?

The nameless snake boxer was strong. If it was true that he was still in elementary school, then in two or three years, he might even be stronger than Tetsuo and Jack. But by trying to tie a
Versus Town
fight to RL, he had proven himself an unworthy opponent for Jack in the first place.

On one day, at one time, there had been a place within this illusory town meant only for Jack’s player and Etsuro Sakagami to see. Hashimoto hadn’t received a ticket to that show, sadly enough. The key to solving the mystery of Jack had slipped from my fingers at the last moment. I realized now why it had been better that way. While there might have been some meaning in the act of catching Jack, nothing would have come from it. The miracle that Jack brought to Versus Town was meant only to be shared with Tetsuo, and only once. I finally realized this. Hashimoto’s yearning for Jack had been one-sided.

Clearly this snake boxer had also been chasing after the Ganker. No doubt it gave the Fates a good chuckle to bring the both of us—two also-rans—together like this. Our meeting was like a bonus round in an epic battle, one which had meaning for only us. If Hashimoto was Tetsuo’s shadow, then this snake boxer was Jack’s. The snake boxer hadn’t been fated to fight Jack, or even Tetsuo—he’d been fated to meet Hashimoto. Of course, it was probably only me who thought that. The snake boxer was almost certainly disappointed to find himself facing not the Ganker of Sanchōme returned, but a nosy rumor-mongering ninja.

I backspaced away what I had just typed, and instead I sent my usual catchphrase. It seemed to sum up how I was feeling nicely.

> It means I am ninja.

> Whatever, dude.

> Farewell.

As consolation prizes went, it wasn’t bad. I would probably remember this meeting between me and the snake boxer for years to come. Maybe even for the rest of my life. It would please me if the snake boxer remembered it too, yet I had no guarantee he would. Perhaps this too was a one-sided affair, which would also be suitable for me, a shut-in playing a character who walked in the shadows of a virtual town.

> Thanks, man.

It was nine o’clock in the evening on the following day when I rejoined Tetsuo on a corner in Sanchōme. Tetsuo hadn’t complained when I told him what had taken place, and he agreed to return the trophy to Pak…no return address. As I had been gearing myself up to persuade him, his nonchalant attitude was a bit of an anticlimax. Or perhaps it was just that he had nothing to say to Hashimoto and was simply happy to be done with the whole affair.

> Do not mention it. It was a simple task for one of my resources to accomplish.

> No, you really helped me out.

> I require no praise. Though I certainly don’t mind it.

> Right, er, you’re the best. Oh, that reminds me, there was something I wanted to ask you.

> What might that be? I regret I won’t be able to supply you with so much as a hint regarding the identity of the thief.

> Not about that.

> What then?

Hashimoto put his hands at his hips. Tetsuo did not move. When I saw the next block of text displayed above his head, I had to blink twice before understanding it.

> Would you mind giving me your email address?

> Why would you need such a thing?

> I just thought it might be nice, now that we’ve met here and all.

> But I am Hashimoto, and you are Tetsuo. We need nothing else.

> I was afraid you’d say that.