Ready Player One

“Anyone else?” I said, opening the question up to the floor. The gunters in the crowd eyed each other, but no one spoke up.

 

“Fireworld, Waterworld, and Airworld,” Aech answered.

 

“Bingo!” I said, and we bumped fists again. “Although Airworld was never actually finished, because Atari fell on hard times and canceled the contest before it was completed.”

 

I-r0k quietly put the game box back in his inventory.

 

“You should join up with the Sux0rz, I-r0k,” Aech said, laughing. “They could really use someone with your vast stores of knowledge.”

 

I-r0k flipped him the bird. “If you two fags already knew about the Swordquest contest, how come I’ve never once heard you mention it?”

 

“Come on, I-r0k,” Aech said, shaking his head. “Swordquest: Earthworld was Atari’s unofficial sequel to Adventure. Every gunter worth their salt knows about that contest. How much more obvious can you get?”

 

I-r0k tried to save some face. “OK, if you’re both such experts, who programmed all of the Swordquest games?”

 

“Dan Hitchens and Tod Frye,” I recited. “Try asking me something difficult.”

 

“I got one for you,” Aech interjected. “What were the prizes Atari gave out to the winner of each contest?”

 

“Ah,” I said. “Good one. Let’s see.… The prize for the Earthworld contest was the Talisman of Penultimate Truth. It was solid gold and encrusted with diamonds. The kid who won it melted it down to pay for college, as I recall.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Aech prodded. “Quit stalling. What about the other two?”

 

“I’m not stalling. The Fireworld prize was the Chalice of Light, and the Waterworld prize was supposed to be the Crown of Life, but it was never awarded, due to the cancellation of the contest. Same goes for the Airworld prize, which was supposed to be a Philosopher’s Stone.”

 

Aech grinned and gave me a double high five, then added, “And if the contest hadn’t been canceled, the winners of the first four rounds would have competed for the grand prize, the Sword of Ultimate Sorcery.”

 

I nodded. “The prizes were all mentioned in the Swordquest comic books that came with the games. Comic books which happen to be visible in the treasure room in the final scene of Anorak’s Invitation, by the way.”

 

The crowd burst into applause. I-r0k lowered his head in shame.

 

Since I’d become a gunter, it had been obvious to me that Halliday had drawn inspiration for his contest from the Swordquest contest. I had no idea if he’d borrowed any of the puzzles from them too, but I’d studied the games and their solutions thoroughly, just to be safe.

 

“Fine. You win,” I-r0k said. “But you both obviously need to get a life.”

 

“And you,” I said, “obviously need to find a new hobby. Because you clearly lack the intelligence and commitment to be a gunter.”

 

“No doubt,” Aech said. “Try doing some research for a change, I-r0k. I mean, did you ever hear of Wikipedia? It’s free, douchebag.”

 

I-r0k turned and walked over to the long boxes of comic books stacked on the other side of the room, as if he’d lost interest in the discussion. “Whatever,” he said over his shoulder. “If I didn’t spend so much time offline, getting laid, I’d probably know just as much worthless shit as you two do.”

 

Aech ignored him and turned back to me. “What were the names of the twins who appeared in the Swordquest comic books?”

 

“Tarra and Torr.”

 

“Damn, Z! You are the man.”

 

“Thanks, Aech.”

 

A message flashed on my display, informing me that the three-minute-warning bell had just rung in my classroom. I knew Aech and I-r0k were seeing the same warning, because our schools operated on the same schedule.

 

“Time for another day of higher learning,” Aech said, standing up.

 

“Drag,” I-r0k said. “See you losers later.” He gave me the finger; then his avatar disappeared as he logged out of the chat room. The other gunters began to log out and vanish too, until only Aech and I remained.

 

“Seriously, Aech,” I said. “Why do you let that moron hang out here?”

 

“Because he’s fun to beat at videogames. And his ignorance gives me hope.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Because if most of the other gunters out there are as clueless as I-r0k—and they are, Z, believe me—that means you and I really do have a shot at winning the contest.”

 

I shrugged. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

 

“Wanna hang after school again tonight? Around seven or so? I’ve got a few errands to run, but then I’m gonna tackle some of the stuff on my need-to-watch list. A Spaced marathon, perhaps?”

 

“Oh, hell yes,” I said. “Count me in.”

 

We logged out simultaneously, just as the final bell began to ring.

 

 

 

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