Solarversia: The Year Long Game (41 page)

She took a deep breath. The toothballs had retreated the optimum distance and started their screeching skirmishes. She shuffled each foot, looked to her left and then to her right. She repeated these actions with zen-like indifference up to the very last second, when she swung left with all her might, and cartwheeled backward to avoid the one swooping in from the right. The crowd gasped as one when Nova collapsed in a heap on the floor, covered in blood.

She’d batted one Obarian into oblivion, but hadn’t dodged the other one in time. It had gouged a large chunk out of her right shoulder in the collision — costing her another 28 health points — and had already geared up for its next screaming attack. She got back up and activated the Scanner.

“Your display shows its distance from you. The instant it gets within ten metres, run your eyes down its body like you’re a barcode scanner.”

It felt wrong, standing with her arms limp at her sides, bat dangling out of harm’s way, waiting for the thing to come at her. She imagined a direct hit to her neck would probably be the end of her. The metres started ticking down more quickly as it gathered speed. She tried to ignore its horrible shrill and concentrate on the task at hand. When the distance counter hit ten metres she locked her gaze, gulped, then scanned it like Burner had instructed.

The thing still slammed into her, costing her a handful of health points, but it had already started its transmogrification from grotesque sphere of incisors into soft-skinned eighteen-year-old girl, so it bounced off her rather than ripping into her neck. The crowd allowed themselves a muted cheer, half fearful of jinxing her progress, half fearful of missing out on the action.

Jogging the final few metres to the teleporter, Nova couldn’t help but stare at the doppelganger jogging beside her. It was strange; she raced against a cloned version of herself several times a week, but this version of her felt more real, more alive, a genuine member of Team Nova. Perhaps it was that they were running in tandem, in it together.

“Now that, my friend, was the appliance of Science. Next you need to program the Route Planner in your clone’s display the same way you’d program your own. She’ll visit Yottanja on Neptune, while you head to Pluto.”

“Are you sure I have enough tokens for both trips?”

“All of your items got cloned, including your tokens. Nova Two will spend her own doppelganger tokens, leaving you enough for your trip.”

“But how’s she going to complete Yottanja’s puzzle on her own? What if she fails?”

“It doesn’t matter, that’s the beautiful thing. She just needs to turn up to Yottanja to tick the item off your Bucket List. She might not solve the puzzle, but it will be her that loses a life and not you.”

“So she ticks off Yottanja while I go see Brontanja?”

“Exactly. Other Solos have reported success with the technique on the forums. Genius.”

She programmed the doppelganger's route and the two of them headed for the teleport machine together. She checked that it didn’t have a TeleTrixis device strapped to its side and sent her clone off to Neptune before punching in the coordinates for Brontanja’s circle on Pluto. When she arrived with half a minute to spare before the final puzzle of the year, the tension in the cafe was palpable. The dinging sound of her doppelganger ticking off Yottanja met with a couple of rowdy hurrahs, but the crowd soon shushed itself back to silence. Burner slammed back a vodka shot and instructed Jockey to keep them coming.

Brontanja’s Puzzle was different to the ones hosted by the other eight Grandmasters. It had to be played last, once you’d played the others and ticked off your Bucket List items for the year, and was the only one that remained the same every time it was played. Even so, there was no way to cheat, for the winning answer depended on the answers given at the time. The puzzle was known as the ‘Lowest Unique Number’, a strategy game that involved a mix of maths and psychology.

The game was exactly as described: players needed to choose a positive whole number and hope that they had chosen the lowest unique one. Throughout the year it had been played in groups of ten. You’d turn up at Brontanja’s circle and an algorithm would place you in a group with nine other people. You’d pick a number between one and five, and hope that your selection was the lowest unique one. If there was no unique number, the group would play the game again, repeating it until someone finally chose a number that no one else had picked.

The winner was automatically assigned a place in the Final Million, leaving the remaining nine players to battle it out using skill. Two more places were on offer to the Solos who could best demonstrate a mastery of the Science. Brontanja’s circle would morph into a Solarversia Simulator and the players would face a series of random modules, testing their Knowledge, Combat, Combinations and Puzzle skills. The two players that scored highest were also admitted into the Final Million. The other seven went out for good, having stumbled at the final hurdle.

For the final puzzle of the year, players were no longer grouped into tens; instead they played every other person in Brontanja’s circle at the time. There were thousands of Solos there with her, drastically reducing the odds of success. And only one of them would progress. There was a single space left in the Final Million and for once, the game they faced came down to cold, hard luck.

Nova looked at the counter and gulped. She couldn’t see her competitors — the circle was a phased zone — but there were 24,315 players standing there in total, all vying for the last place in the million. At 11:55 p.m., a Force Field appeared over the circle. Any player not inside — numbering a million or so around the Solar System — was bombarded with cosmic radiation. They were wiped out in seconds.

She could hardly concentrate on what Brontanja said as he talked players through the rules. This was it. The last ten months boiled down to this one guess. Why couldn’t she have arrived earlier in the day and faced nine other people? This was radically different. She tried to cast her mind back to the months after she and Sushi had signed up for Solarversia.

It was all about the Golden Grid back then — the ten-by-ten section of the Player’s Grid that had been reserved by Spiralwerks for a series of promotional events. The very first number to have been assigned to any player, anywhere in the world — 993 — was the square located in the bottom right hand corner of the Golden Grid, and it had been appointed using the same game.

Although Nova had missed out on playing it — only a few thousand people even knew that Solarversia existed back then — she’d discussed it in length with Burner. He’d been more interested in the maths side of the game, she in the psychology. The game had also been discussed in length on blogs and in newspapers during the week the few hundred entrants had had to make up their minds.

As unlikely as it had seemed to Nova at the time, many players had gone for numbers under ten, reasoning that others would steer clear. In this way, answers were always distributed more heavily toward the lower numbers, in a clear attempt to choose a lowest unique one. The words ‘Gaussian distribution’ and ‘skew’ appeared in her mind. If only she’d paid more attention in Mr McGillycuddy’s maths lessons.

She volleyed an eye back to the silent room. Jockey mouthed the words “good luck” to her. Burner gave her the thumbs-up. She was in the hands of fate. There were no clues to find, no mystery to solve, no animal to escape from. There were twenty seconds and counting. Which number would Sushi have chosen, she wondered?

From what she could remember from her lengthy discussions with Burner, she figured the lowest unique number would be about a hundred, given the number of people playing. But which one? She could hear Burner shuffle uncomfortably on his chair and the crowd start to whisper among themselves. And then the thought of Sushi and their one-to-ones triggered a thought. That was it — she was going to pick number one hundred and twenty-one. With less than ten seconds on the clock she keyed it in, triple-checked it, then hit submit. Her selection got the crowd going again. Everyone had their own opinion on the wisdom — or not — of her choice. When Brontanja started speaking again the room fell silent.

“When I stop talking I’m going to disappear, leaving you, the 24,315 players, and the teleport machine, in my circle. For all but one of you the machine will remain unchanged and the Force Field will retract, subjecting you to the harsh cosmic rays polluting the Solar System. Your game will be over within seconds. But for the player who chose the lowest unique number, the teleport machine will alter in appearance. It will shed all but one of its signs — the one that points to the Decision Dome, the location of the next game.”

And with that, he disintegrated into the ether, leaving behind his black robes, which slumped to the ground in a heap. Nova removed her headset and got out of the chair to watch the result on the monitors like everyone else. Raising a clenched fist to her mouth, she bit down hard on a knuckle. Her eyes were riveted to the signs on the machine, desperately willing them to move.

The change was almost imperceptible at first, but then it seemed that the sign to Olympus Mons on Mars had started to sag. She grabbed Burner’s hand and pulled it toward her. When the sign clattered to the ground she yelped like a little dog and started to quiver. When the other signs followed suit she jumped into his arms and punched the air. Screams from the crowd were so loud they drowned out Jockey’s carefully selected
We Are the Champions
victory tune. She had made it. 121 was the lowest unique number. Nova Negrahnu had just claimed the final spot in the Final Million.

She was so preoccupied with jumping around the room that it took Officer Dibble several attempts to get her attention. Out of breath and quivering with excitement, she got ready to deny any request to return to the station.

“No, no, not that. There’s a young man outside, says he wants to speak to you. I said to him, ‘You and most of the young men in Maidstone after today’s performance. Besides,’ I said, ‘the place is full.’ He wouldn’t take no for an answer though. Said his name was Han and that he’d picked the wrong Leia, said you’d know what it meant. Do you want me to tell him to push off?”

Nova glanced outside and saw the young man Officer Dibble had been referring to. Her smile grew wider. “Actually, could you let him in? The Force is strong with this one.”

The officer hurried Charlie inside as the midnight countdown began. As revellers launched into a drunken rendition of
Auld Lang Syne
, Nova greeted him by the door. They stared into one another’s eyes for a while, grinning rather than talking. It was Nova who spoke first.

“You’re here. But how?”

“Your friend Jono sent a message asking for help. Said that you and Burner were targeted by the Holy Order. It was on the news and everything. I came as soon as I heard.”

“But the last time we spoke—”

“Yeah, you told a stupid lie. But I came to the conclusion that the way you came clean about everything, of your own accord, mattered more to me. And when I heard the news … let’s just say that the thought of you being in danger made me realise how much I wanted to be with you. It’s a new year. Do you think we could start afresh?”

He glanced at the mistletoe hanging above them and cocked his head to one side. Nova didn’t need to be asked twice. She fell into his warm embrace and ran her fingers through his hair. It was the most perfect moment of her life: she was alive, she was with Charlie, and she was in the Final Million.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The new room was at least twice the size of her old one, closer to Burner’s and far grander to boot. The ceilings were higher and the oak fittings felt more solid when she tapped them with her knuckles. The room had suddenly — magically, in Burner’s opinion — become available over the Christmas period and been offered to Nova the day she arrived back at university. Further to that, a security detail had been implemented at Hu Stu, a rota of guards installed to monitor activity in and around the halls. All this had been paid for by Spiralwerks, a token of gratitude for the actions that had helped to prevent the attack at their HQ.

Nova found her newfound fame embarrassing and exciting in equal measure. The events of New Year’s Eve had made global headlines, ‘
Feisty Finalist Sends Holy Order Into Chaos’
being Burner’s favourite. The footage of her handiwork with the Obarian Obliterator had gone viral, leading to several half-serious offers from baseball teams in the US. Certainly she hadn’t been able to leave the house without being stopped every few minutes by someone wanting to take a selfie with her.

Right now she had things other than fame on her mind. The Soul Surfer app was waiting in her headset’s display, ready to launch. Sitting next to her on the bed in the real world was Charlie, officially her boyfriend since the kiss under the mistletoe. They had spent the last hour creating his avatar by scanning his body and recording his voice. This would be the first time that she’d introduced someone to Computer Sushi and it felt strange, like she was about to expose two tender parts of her own soul.

“When I start the app, Sushi will appear on a bench overlooking Seattle. I think I told you about the game we play, taking it in turns to change the skyline. After the modifications play out, I’ll introduce you.”

Charlie eased the spare goggles Burner had lent Nova over his head and navigated to the Soul Surfer app under her guidance. The Seattle skyline filled their displays and started to change in front of their eyes. A spinning UFO landed on the Space Needle, sparking off a series of glimmering rainbows that led to virtual pots of gold, while Gorigaroo climbed a building with a screaming woman clenched tight in his fist. Nova gestured for them to turn to the bench.

“Hey, Nova, how are you?”

“I’m good. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

“Hi, Charlie. Nova’s told me all about you. It’s exciting to meet you at long last.”

“Er, hi there. Nice to meet you, I guess.” Charlie watched in astonishment as Sushi stood up to greet him with a kiss before inviting them both to join her on her bench. He sat down and took in the view before speaking again.