Ready Player One

My avatar’s level and hit-point counters both had infinity symbols in front of them.

 

And my credit readout now displayed a number twelve digits long. I was a multibillionaire.

 

“I’m entrusting the care of the OASIS to you now, Parzival,” Halliday said. “Your avatar is immortal and all-powerful. Whatever you want, all you have to do is wish for it. Pretty sweet, eh?” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Do me a favor. Try and use your powers only for good. OK?”

 

“OK,” I said, in a voice that was barely a whisper.

 

Halliday smiled, then gestured around us. “This is your castle now. I’ve coded this room so that only your avatar can enter it. I did this to ensure that you alone have access to this.” He walked over to a bookshelf against the wall and pulled on the spine of one of the volumes it held. I heard a click; then the bookshelf slid aside, revealing a square metal plate set into the wall. In the center of the plate there was a comically large red button embossed with a single word: OFF.

 

“I call this the Big Red Button,” Halliday said. “If you press it, it will shut off the entire OASIS and launch a worm that will delete everything stored on the GSS servers, including all of the OASIS source code. It will shut down the OASIS forever.” He smirked. “So don’t press it unless you’re absolutely positive it’s the right thing to do, OK?” He gave me an odd smile. “I trust your judgment.”

 

Halliday slid the bookshelf back into place, concealing the button once again. Then he startled me by putting his arm around my shoulders. “Listen,” he said, adopting a confidential tone. “I need to tell you one last thing before I go. Something I didn’t figure out for myself until it was already too late.” He led me over to the window and motioned out at the landscape stretching out beyond it. “I created the OASIS because I never felt at home in the real world. I didn’t know how to connect with the people there. I was afraid, for all of my life. Right up until I knew it was ending. That was when I realized, as terrifying and painful as reality can be, it’s also the only place where you can find true happiness. Because reality is real. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” I said. “I think I do.”

 

“Good,” he said, giving me a wink. “Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t hide in here forever.”

 

He smiled and took a few steps away from me. “All right. I think that covers everything. It’s time for me to blow this pop stand.”

 

Then Halliday began to disappear. He smiled and waved good-bye as his avatar slowly faded out of existence.

 

“Good luck, Parzival,” he said. “And thanks. Thanks for playing my game.”

 

Then he was completely gone.

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you guys there?” I said to the empty air a few minutes later.

 

“Yes!” Aech said excitedly. “Can you hear us?”

 

“Yeah. I can now. What happened?”

 

“The system cut off our voice links to you as soon as you entered Halliday’s office, so we couldn’t talk to you.”

 

“Luckily, you didn’t need our help anyway,” Shoto said. “Good job, man.”

 

“Congratulations, Wade,” I heard Art3mis say. And I could tell she meant it too.

 

“Thanks,” I said. “But I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

 

“You’re right,” Art3mis said. “Remember to mention that when you talk to the media. Og says there are a few hundred reporters on their way here right now.”

 

I glanced back over at the bookshelf that concealed the Big Red Button. “Did you guys see everything Halliday said to me before he vanished?” I asked.

 

“No,” Art3mis said. “We saw everything up until he told you to ‘try and use your powers only for good.’ Then your vidfeed cut out. What happened after that?”

 

“Nothing much,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

 

“Dude,” Aech said. “You’ve got to check the Scoreboard.”

 

I opened a window and pulled up the Scoreboard. The list of high scores was gone. Now the only thing displayed on Halliday’s website was an image of my avatar, dressed in Anorak’s robes, holding the silver egg, along with the words PARZIVAL WINS!

 

“What happened to the Sixers?” I asked. “The ones who were still inside the gate?”

 

“We’re not sure,” Aech said. “Their vidfeeds vanished when the Scoreboard changed.”

 

“Maybe their avatars were killed,” Shoto said. “Or maybe …”

 

“Maybe they were just ejected from the gate,” I said.

 

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