Red warning lights flared in the darkness of the cockpit as a robotic female voice barked through the silence, “Lock On. Lock On.”
Hundreds of different icons filled the scanner as the battle raged around him. Laser fire and missiles criss-crossed in the distance as the two capital ships started to close ranks. The hulking red shard of death that was the enemy Dreadnought closed off their exit, and the asteroid field hemmed in the Ticonderoga, leaving it with nowhere left to run. A swarm of starfighters spewed forth from the bellies of the ships, joining the horde of gunships and corvettes fighting to protect their capital ship. He closely monitored the scanners for distance, the enemies’ particle lance was almost within weapons range. They didn’t have much time. He had to get his payload delivered. It was their only chance.
The flashing red icons on his scanner showed that two ships were right behind him, locking on to his heat signature. Pterax, so focused on his bombing run, hadn’t seen them drop in behind him as he skimmed underneath the asteroid belt, trying to get to his target by avoiding the chaos of space above. He’d hoped his approach would have gone unnoticed, a lone ship lost amidst the pandemonium. They must have dived through the bottom of the asteroid belt to give chase, as he, sensing their weakness, passed underneath the enemy carrier.
Pterax blink-clicked at both targets on the scanner, and 3D schematics of the chasing ships appeared on his HUD.
Dammit. Mozzies. No way could he outrun them in his torpedo boat. He had to take them out.
The chasing craft launched a full salvo of tomcat missiles. His scanner showed the white dots racing away from the enemy ships as they homed in on his heat signature. He didn’t have any decoy flares left to counter the incoming hardware. It had taken everything he had just to weave his way through the carnage above and get this far. Pterax yanked hard on the stick and diverted all the shield and laser energy to the engines. Flames erupted from the five-engine array, shoving him into the back of the chair, propelling him towards the bottom layer of the asteroid cluster as he tried desperately to evade the incoming ordnance.
He scanned the approaching hunks of rock, and picking out the most suitable one, aimed straight for it. Matching his thoughts, a rear camera view snapped into view on his HUD, showing the missiles spread out in a cluster behind him. They were getting so close he could make out the tips of the warheads. He cut the power from one of the engines and, with a twist of the flight stick, set the torpedo boat into a roll. The off-centre heat signature caused the cluster of warheads to tighten. He reignited engine four and fired the afterburners. The asteroid filled his entire view as he rapidly closed in on it. He primed a sun crusher and waited until the last second. With a squeeze of the trigger, the torpedo slammed forward. A camera feed slid into his HUD, and he guided the sun crusher torpedo into the deep fissure running across the centre of the asteroid. As soon as it disappeared into the crack, he detonated the weapon. The explosion ripped the asteroid open, the blast wave shooting the debris in every direction. He dove through the dissipating explosion where the centre of the asteroid used to be. The tightened cluster of missiles were assaulted by the rushing slabs of rock, either knocked off course to detonate other lumps of asteroid or exploding immediately on contact. Once he’d steered the ship through the epicentre of the blast, Pterax slammed on the anchors, the nozzles at the front of the craft firing immediately to reduce its velocity to zero. He pitched the missile boat around, spinning in a neat 180 degrees to face towards the oncoming enemy ships.
Slamming all power to the engines once more and firing the afterburners, the missile boat roared through the explosions from the neutralised missiles. He initiated the targeting sequence. Two reticles flew in from the edge of his HUD to snap onto the approaching craft. Pterax smiled to himself as he imagined their surprise as their cockpits shrilled with a lock-on warning. He fired off two missiles at nearly point blank range as he shot between them. On the rear-facing camera, he watched as they exploded together, the expanding fireballs from the detonating craft overlapping each other, creating a single blossom of destruction against the blackness.
He yanked back on the stick and swung around to realign on the enemy capital ship. He checked the distance until it was in firing range of the Ticonderoga. There was still time. He primed the sun crusher warheads and opened his comms channel.
“Command, this is Missile Boat 7. I am on final approach to the enemy capital ship. Request Ion fire in 30 seconds,” he said.
“Roger that, Pterax. We’ll give you support.”
Are you ready to order, Dave?
“Affirmative, command. Four sun crusher warheads are primed for delivery.”
Dave!
“Excellent work, Pterax. We’ll get those laser batteries deactivated for you. You’re our last chance to turn this around.”
DAVE! Did you hear me?
“My pleasure, command. Get ready for Ion blast in 10…”
I’m ready to order. Have you chosen yet?
“9… 8… 7…”
DAVE! GODDAMMIT! Will you answer me?
“6… 5… 4…”
If you don’t answer me right now, I’m leaving.
“3… 2…”
I mean it.
At the tone of that last sentence, he knew he couldn’t push it any further. But he was so close. He could almost see the payload of sun crushers firing off towards the capital ship. The sound of experience points racking up in his ears was almost enough for him to ignore the voice and continue on his approach. And then it came.
Now.
A single word. But he knew its intent. Its low, almost guttural inflection rolled around inside his head. He could imagine the way her mouth formed the words, the way her bottom teeth would be bared. This was it. He had to cut the connection.
With a thought, the cockpit broke down into thousands of triangles, dividing the view of the interior of the spaceship. As they floated away, a luminous hex grid of his gaming construct was visible between the gaps. One by one, they flashed rapidly and vanished. The glowing purple grid collapsed down into a single point, leaving only blackness. With a lurch that turned his stomach, the blackness switched back to reality as the connection severed. He lowered the menu. His wife’s face a frown of danger across the restaurant table. He was in trouble.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
Dave paused as a set of notifications slotted up the side of his HUD, glowing vividly against the romantic lighting of their corner booth.
+200 Session XP
+100 XP Mission flare
+1000 XP Enemy craft destroyed
-1500 XP Mission objectives failed
Net score: -100 XP
Daily XP total: 71,265
Minus 100 experience points? And only a hundred XP for mission flare! That was fucking bollocks. He slammed the table with his fist. The two glasses of red wine wobbled uncertainly from the impact. Dave reached out and grabbed both stems to stop them from falling over. The sudden motion slopped a good mouthful out of each glass, where it covered his hands and ran over the top of his skin to stain the white tablecloth. He watched as it soaked into the material. More waste. Just like wasting that mission. Now it was going to take him even longer to get to Battle Rank 40. He was way off his daily target. All because she had to interrupt him. She couldn’t simply give him a second. Couldn’t simply wait.
“Dave!”
That tone again. He snapped his head up to look at her. Sure enough, her bottom teeth were bared. The expression she always used when she was about to give him a bollocking.
“What?” he snapped. The sharpness of his words matching his frustration at her impatience.
“Don’t you dare take that tone with me. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked again.
“Nothing,” he said. He hung his head to avert her gaze. Not that it did any good, feeling her eyes boring in to the top of his head.
“Lock On. Lock On.”
“What… so you were just ignoring me, were you? Staring vacantly into the menu?” she accused .
“No… I was just…”
“Will you give me the courtesy of looking at me when I’m talking to you!” she snapped.
He lifted his head up to meet her gaze. Eyes like black holes. Sucking him in from where neither time nor light could escape.
“You were taking ages. So… So I logged in for a second.”
“What do you mean—you logged in?” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“I got an alert about our home carrier being under attack. So I logged in for a bit to help out,” he offered in explanation.
She leaned in over the table, her voice low and quiet, but each word spoken with utter precision. “Are you telling me that I’ve been sitting here, looking through the menu, and you’ve been jacked in to a fucking game the whole time?”
He mumbled something in reply.
“What?” she demanded.
“Yes. Alright. Yes. I logged in and tried to pick up a quick mission whilst you were looking over the menu. You always take ages. It’s fucking ridiculous. How long exactly do you need to decide?” he shouted.
As one, the rest of the diners turned to look in their direction, but Dave ignored them. Haven’t they got anything better to do? He pulled at the collar on his shirt, trying to give his neck some extra room. It seemed awfully hot in the restaurant all of a sudden.
“Will you keep your goddamn voice down? You’re causing a scene.” she said. ‘I can’t believe you’d have the gall to ignore me just so you can jump on a stupid kids’ game for a few minutes.”
“You think a kid could navigate through an asteroid field? And besides, I’ve got this new time dilation plugin. It means I’m not wasting time whilst you’re trying to decide what to stuff in your ugly face,” he growled.
“You know, you always resort to the insults when you know you’re wrong. And you know you’re in the wrong, don’t you?” she admonished.
Dave just stared at her, thoughts tumbling around his head about all the things he wanted to say. But they’d only make things worse. His throat felt dry and coarse all of a sudden. He’d better order a water with his meal, as soon as they get over this fiasco.
“Yeah, I thought so. Do you know how long I had to wait to book this place? Months!” she said.
“We didn’t have to come here you know,” he replied.
“I wanted it to be special, Dave. Unlike you, it seems. I thought it’d be nice to celebrate our ten years together in a real restaurant for a change. Seems like you just don’t care, though”
“Of course I care! It’s just…,” he waffled.
“Just what?” she asked.
“I was this close, Becks,” he offered, holding finger and thumb an inch apart. “This close to nailing that enemy Dreadnought. And now it’s going to take me even longer to get to the final battle rank. All I needed was an extra couple of seconds. But you kept nagging, so I had to disconnect. And now today is pretty much a waste. I’m way off my daily quota.”
Why wasn’t there any water on the table? He was feeling parched. And all this arguing she was doing wasn’t helping.
“I can’t believe you!” she said. She sat back in the chair and folded her arms.
But Dave wasn’t listening. He was watching a new notification scroll up into his HUD.
Home Carrier Ticonderoga destroyed. All troops return to warp gate for deployment.
“Well… that’s just flipping brilliant, isn’t it? Now they’ve destroyed our carrier. All because you couldn’t wait another picosecond for my undivided attention,” he groused, slumping in the booth, leaning the back of his head against the plush red velvet backrest.
“You are un-fucking believable, do you know that? I’ve just given you the opportunity to make amends for being such a shit, and all you care about is that fucking game. Well, I’ll tell you what is going to happen,” she said, leaning forward once more. “You’re going to wipe that game right now, or that’s us finished.”
“What? You can’t be serious,” he responded, sitting upright with a jolt.
“I am deadly serious. Why don’t you try me?” she stated.
Dave considered all the hours logged just to get to Battle Rank 39. He was so close to BR 40. He was almost there, and he’d be the first one ever to get to experience the end game content. A couple of other players were close, but he should be able to manage it, as long as he hit his daily XP quota. He had to get back on today; otherwise, he was going to have extra catching up to do. Then he thought about what she said. About deleting his profile and losing everything. Not only that — he’d never play again, never feel the adrenaline rush as a notification popped into his HUD. Logging in and getting his orders from command. The sound of the klaxons as he prepped for launch before being shot out of the launch tubes. Space robbed of its darkness by laser fire. Huge capital ships locked together by colossal beams of energy. Thousands of ships worrying at their hulls. The feeling of being part of an ever-changing war fought on a truly galactic scale. His outfit was one of the best in the game, and with it, he was one of the most respected pilots. His VR training sessions were regarded as the best out there. He couldn’t give all of that up. He was somebody in that universe. Here, in real-life, he was nobody. A stay-at-home Dad. He loved his son, but he needed more. And Becks was always at work. Never there for him. His Outfit was like his family. A pain flared in his chest that gave way to a tightness. He found it difficult to breathe. The heat in the realstaurant was suddenly overwhelming. He clawed at his neck. Choking, fighting the restrictive collar of the shirt she insisted he wear. Why the hell wasn’t there water on the table? His breathing quickened. He started to hyperventilate. Wiping his brow, his hand came away slick with sweat. His vision blurred. Someone kicked the chair out from under him. He tried to grab onto the table to steady himself but only managed to grab onto the tablecloth. He pulled the glasses of red wine on top of himself as he fell out of the chair. One of them landed on his head as he crashed to the ground, smashing against his temple and cutting his face. Ejecting the red wine all over him. He felt his limbs spasm uncontrollably as he lay on the floor, the red wine soaking into his shirt. The ceiling swam in and out of focus. Becks appeared above him, some sort of medical device in-hand. She pressed it to his neck, and he felt his body relax as the spasms dissipated. His breathing slowed, and he could see that Becks was talking to him. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the soothing sounds of her voice managed to cut through the buzzing in his ears. She was caressing his head and holding his hand. He started to feel normal again. Arms lifted him gently from behind. They carried him out of the realstaurant, Becks walking next to him, holding his hand. The ringing in his ears made it difficult to keep upright as he walked, but the firm arms around him kept him from falling over. The concierge opened the doors, and the cold air slapped him in the face, snapping him out of his daze. The ringing in his ears subsided, and Becks took him by both hands, holding them gently. He managed to stand up right and the arms released him. “Thank you very much,” Becks said over his shoulder.
“No problem,” the voice at his back commented.
“Are you OK?” She asked.
“Err, yes. Yes. What happened?” He inquired.
“Panic attack,” she replied. “I had to give you a suppressant to calm you down.”
He squeezed her hands. “Thanks Becks,” he said.
“Come on, I’ll get you home and you can delete everything tomorrow.”
He pulled his hands away roughly, breaking free of her grip.
“No way. All I need is to log in. Once I get my XP for today, I’ll be fine.”
“Dave, don’t be an arsehole. You need proper help. You’re an addict,” she admonished.
“That’s insane. I’m not addicted.”
“Yes, you are. You just can’t admit it to yourself. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed before,” she said, guiltily.
“Well, that wouldn’t be difficult, you’re never around,” he complained.
“That’s not fair. You know I’ve been trying to set up the new mech team at the hospital. Do you know how long it takes to calibrate surgical mechs? Besides, that’s not even the point, so don’t think you can weasel your way out of this. We get jack-heads coming into the hospital all the time, so don’t think I can’t spot one when I see one,” she responded.
“That’s bollocks. It’s just because I’m off my quota. If Jakey hadn’t woken up early from his nap, then I would have hit my target and I’d be fine. Come on, don’t be a twat.”
“Listen to yourself — you’re completely obsessed,” she accused.
“Hey, it’s not my fucking fault. It’s because that little bastard woke up early,” he snarled, pointing at her face, veins bulging at his neck.
“That’s it Dave, you’ve gone too far.” She turned her back on him and gestured in the air. A bright red target appeared on the ground in the centre of the plaza, pedestrians giving it a wide berth. Becks strode away to wait next to it.
The rage building inside him in that moment caught him unawares. His heart was pounding in his chest. He watched as their car threaded its way through the multiple layers of traffic above the high rise before descending gracefully. As the car sliced its way through the adverts, holograms and animated artwork between the buildings, all he could think about was logging in. His hands twitched slightly as the drugs continued to fight against his withdrawal. Maybe he could make her see sense. If only she knew how important it was for him. Maybe she’d let him keep his gaming profile. Besides, it’s not as if he is doing anything dangerous; it’s just a game. With a big sigh, he walked after her. Autumn leaves from the giant oak trees dropped all around him. As they hit the ground, they burst apart into a cluster of triangles, reminding him of his gaming construct. His fingers twitched.
“Look Becks, I’m sorry. It’s just that he woke up early, and that’s why I couldn’t complete my mission this morning. And so, when you were taking ages looking at the menu, I just thought I’d quickly log in and pick up another one. No biggie,” he explained.
Warning tones sounded and the oblong target glowed a deep red as their car landed. The door scythed open from its sleek body, the interior lights glowing softly in the dark of the plaza.
“I’m not interested,” she said, making to climb into the car. As she was about to step into the vehicle, she turned sharply to face him. “Wait a sec. Tell me again how Jakey cut his head open,” she demanded.
“Err, what? What are you talking about?” he questioned.
“When Jakey smashed his head on the hearth. You said you were browsing for a new food template.”
“Yeah?” he said.
“So what were you really doing?”
“Looking for a new template to rent. I told you.”
“Really? So you weren’t playing that fucking game then?” she accused, stepping towards him, getting up in his face.
Dave’s eyes darted backwards and forwards between hers, unsure of exactly where to look in case she guessed the truth. But in the end, he realised it was pointless. She was right, and she knew it. Might as well admit it now. Maybe there was some way he could salvage the situation? Appease Becks and still get to jack in? He couldn’t look at her anymore, the judgement in those eyes too much. He hung his head, hoping she would take pity on him.
“I thought so,” she chided. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to authorise you a script for Bupropion. I’ll drop you at the addiction clinic at Goldmark Place and tell them you’ve seen a consultant. Once they’ve authorised the drug delivery, and you’ve had your first dose, come home and we can talk. Otherwise, don’t fucking bother.”
Rebecca tapped through unseen menus, and with a final gesture in the air, a glowing prescription icon popped into the layer of augmented reality between them.
He watched it as it spun around, leaving glowing trails from each of the corners that reminded him of torpedoes barrelling their way towards a capital ship. He reached out slowly, thinking about what it would mean to accept it, to admit defeat. To never jack in to Galaxy War ever again. His hand slowed to a stop in front of the spinning icon.
“You bastard!” She said as she turned on her heel and climbed into the car in one smooth movement.
“Becks… wait,” he shouted as the door of the car sliced shut. “Becks… Rebecca!”
The car lifted smoothly off the ground, ascending to join the multiple levels of traffic flowing over the top of the city.
“For fuck’s sake,” he shouted at the departing car, slamming his balled fists into the air as if he hoped to knock it out of the sky.
He span on his heel to face the prescription icon, and was about to wave it away to dismiss it when he realised what it would mean. He’d probably never see Becks or Jake again. Is that what he wanted? Was the game really worth the sacrifice? His shoulders slumped. What would Becks tell Jake? “Sorry son, your Dad decided being someone in VR was more important than being a father.”
“Fucking hell!” Dave said. Sighing, he reached out and touched the icon. It exploded into a thousand triangles that all shot down onto his HUD, as if caught in a tractor beam. One by one, they rebuilt the spinning icon, a glowing permanent reminder of his choice.
± ± ± ± ±
Dave walked through the doors of the clinic. A pulsing green target painted on the floor in ARSpace directed him to an empty reception desk. As he stepped onto the target, the clinic’s AI detected his presence and loaded the default meeting protocol. A wash of static formed a silhouette of a man sitting in the empty chair, who then snapped into existence as if he had been there all along.
“Yes sir, how may I help?” questioned the ARvatar.
“I’ve got a script for Bupropion. I need to get authorisation for delivery,” Dave responded.
“Please share your script,” the ARvatar instructed.
Dave complied and the clinic’s AI interfaced with the digital script.
“Please follow the green arrow to the waiting area for digital addiction. Your case will need to be reviewed and assessed,” it said.
“My, err, consultant said that I would get a course delivered straight away.”
“VR addiction can have wide ranging consequences, Mr Charlton. All cases need to be reviewed and assessed before a course of detoxification is authorised and administered. Please take a seat and a mechanical automated medical assistant will be with you shortly,” it said.
“Can’t you just give me my goddamned drugs so I can go home?” he snarled.
The ARvatar flickered with static and disappeared.
“Stupid piece of shit AI,” Dave said as he stomped down the hall, following the glowing green arrow painted on the floor of his private ARSpace.
The waiting room looked like a zombie apocalypse had ravaged the gaming community, and they’d all decided to come here to munch on some brains. Most of them looked like the scum of the earth. They were gaunt and malnourished, with distant eyes undoubtedly imagining a world that wasn’t this one. Most of them probably were in a different world. Jacked in to whatever virtual space had ensnared them. Fucking jack-heads. Normally you see them on the street corners, begging for a money transfer to get their next fix.
He scanned the place for a decent seat, trying to pick one the farthest away from the jackers. He chose one in the corner, away from the double doors that led God knows where. To the end of his fun no doubt.
He slumped down in the chair and let out a deep sigh, annoyed that it had come to this.
The head and shoulders of the clinic’s ARvatar appeared at the top of his HUD.
“Thank you, Mr Charlton. You are 17th in the queue. Calculated waiting time is currently forty-three minutes,” it informed him, gesturing over to the right hand side of his HUD where his queue position and anticipated wait time slid into view.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as the ARvatar disappeared.
Forty-three minutes? With his time dilation plugin, that would be hours in Galaxy War. If Becks got her way, this could be his last ever session. Although he’d see about that. He had no idea what was going to happen behind those closed doors, but there must be a way to turn this around? He could dial it back, sure; he didn’t want to lose Becks and Jake, but surely he would still be able to play a bit? If he could convince her he was serious about cleaning himself up, whatever that meant, maybe he could keep his profile.
He was about to connect when a jack-head loomed over him.
“Sorry to bother you.”
“What?” he spat, annoyed at the intrusion.
But when he looked up, he was surprised to see it wasn’t a jack-head at all. In fact, she was extremely pretty. Pink hair all messed up. Deliberately torn clothes. And lots of bare skin. Her skin is what drew his eye immediately. Glowing lines and shapes flowed over her body, tracking her curves and contours. She was covered head to foot in ARt. At least he assumed it was all over. The constantly flowing tattoos appeared and disappeared beneath the edges of her clothing. He queried her appearance with merely a thought.
His personal AI assistant captured her image and cross-referenced it, delivering the information straight to his HUD. He scanned through it quickly. Dave cancelled the wiki feed with a thought.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you,” he said.
“No worries, man. Look, any chance I can sit here? Those jack-heads are giving me the creeps,” she admitted, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.
Dave looked behind her and two dishevelled husks were leering at her, practically salivating as they watched the glowing lines of her ARt flow all over her body.
“Yeah, sure. Of course,” he said.
She stepped past him and sat down, distancing herself from the lecherous creeps.
“Thanks. They kept pinging my personal profile, over and over again, with disgusting pictures of themselves. Dirty bastards,” she said with disgust.
“No problem,” he said.
“So what you here for then? You don’t look like a jack-head,” she said.
“Well, that’s not what my wife thinks. She says I’ve got a problem. Get detoxed or don’t bother coming home.” Maybe it was from talking to someone about it, even a stranger. Or else it was the fact the drugs had worn off. But either way, he noticed his hands were shaking again.
“Hey man, we all need our jack time, right?” She encouraged as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
Yes, exactly. Why couldn’t Becks see that?
“Fancy telling my wife that?”
She laughed at his joke and he watched as her ARt flowed around her mouth, tracing her smile lines.
“Sure,” she offered, giving him a big smile.
“So, you into your gaming then?” he asked, a little nervously.
She crooked her arm and clenched her fist. Her whole arm turned black. Pinpricks of white light faded in from the blackness. A familiar blue spaceship appeared around the curve of her wrist and shot up her arm, rocketing towards her shoulder. As it reached her elbow, a purple ship appeared from underneath her tank top and streaked towards the other craft. They started to dance and twist around each other, firing off salvos of laser fire. Eventually the blue ship pulled a manoeuvre that placed it right behind the purple one and it unleashed a torrent of destruction against its engines. The purple ship exploded. Fragments of smashed spaceship flew in all directions. Some of them exploded out of the confines of the scene on her arm and came flying towards Dave’s face. He ducked out of the way and watched them fade into nothing over his shoulder. When he looked back, the blue ship stopped on her upper arm and then unfolded. The metal flattened to reveal the Galaxy War logo.
“Woah, that was awesome. Did you program that yourself?”
“Yeah, most of it. I got a bit of a hand off my boyfriend, though,” she admitted.
“So you play Galaxy War then?”
“Have you heard of it?”
Dave excitedly conceded the truth. “That’s pretty much why I’m here. That’s all I play. So which Outfit are you in?” He inquired.
“DevilFish. You?” She returned the question.
“The Gloaming,” he admitted to her with pride.
“Alien loving freak,” she said.
He laughed. “Better than being rebel scum.”
“Fair point,” she acknowledged.
“So how come you’re here then? You don’t seem like a jack-head either,” he said.
“Me and my fella are doing closed beta testing for a new plugin. We need to come in for a weekly check-up to make sure it’s not frying our brains. It’s a bit of a drag, but the app is amazing, so we don’t mind too much,” she explained.
“That sounds pretty involved. What’s the plugin do?” Dave asked, his curiosity starting to take hold.
“It’s pretty cool. It’s called Mul-T. It’s basically like a multi-tasking app. It allows your brain to focus fully on multiple tasks at the same time. It takes a bit of setup and you need to train yourself to use it, but it’s fucking awesome.”
“Ah, OK. What sort of stuff can you do with it?”
“I’ve been using it nearly all day today to tidy up the house and play Galaxy War at the same time,” she said with a grin.
“Right. You been running it long?” He balled his fists to stop his fingers from twitching.
“About two months or so. It’s taken that long to train it properly. Although, now it’s getting better and better every day.”
“I see. And how did you get into the beta?” He asked, his heart racing.
“Well, it’s closed beta, so it’s invite only,” she informed him.
The cut on his head stung as a bead of sweat rolled over the broken skin, but he had to ask, “Any chance you could sort me out with an invite?”
“I dunno. I don’t want to risk getting kicked out. It’s under NDA, you know.”
“Not even for an alien loving freak like me?” He asked as his finger nails dug into his palms.
“I might be able to convince my boyfriend. He’s pals with one of the testers, that’s how we got in.”
To hide his increasing desperation, he clasped his hands together as if in prayer and pleaded, “Please. Honestly. Anything. I’ve got money — me and my wife, we do OK. She trains medical mechs. I can pay you… “
She laughed, and for a second he thought she was just going to brush him off.
“OK, OK, I’ll see what I can do,” she said, taking his clasped hands and lowering them.
“Thanks,” he said, noticing his hands were relaxing a bit.
“Mind you, it’s got some pretty steep requirements,” she explained. “It copies a large portion of your brain function to your home hub. It uses that to stream motor control and responses whilst you do something else. Which means you have to use it at home, at least for now.” she said.
“So you can talk to people, too?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I can still have a relatively decent conversation when playing. It’s odd. It’s like you know what’s happening, but you don’t control it. The plugin controls it all. All your responses… everything. It isn’t good with tasks you’ve never done before, or any conversation that evokes a lot of emotion. But that’s why you need to train it. Once you do that, the multi-tasking just gets better and better. The dev’s reckon soon you’ll be jacked in permanently, but live a normal life at the same time. Like splitting your entire brain in half. Crazy, eh?” She said.
“That sounds really far out. I didn’t think they could do anything like that yet,” he said.
“Me neither. Some sort of new advancement in transcoding or something. I don’t know. I don’t care, really. As long as I can play Galaxy War uninterrupted, I honestly don’t care how they do it,” she said.
Uninterrupted. That’s what he needed. He’d be able to do all the jobs Becks set him every day, all the ones he carried out metronomically, without thinking. And looking after Jakey too. Then he wouldn’t have any more accidents either. It was perfect.
“Do you want me to talk to my boyfriend then?” she asked.
“Yeah, definitely. That’d be amazing. Any idea when? Could I get an invite tonight? I’m going to have to get this drug delivery authorised, otherwise she will know something is up. But as soon as I get home, I can jack-in. My Outfit has a big combined operations night tonight,” he said.
“Yeah, mine too. I don’t suppose you’re going after the Ashur Cluster, are you?” she asked cleverly.
He chuckled. “I couldn’t possibly comment,” he said, a big grin spreading over his face. He never had an opportunity to share any gaming comradery with anyone in real life, and the connection felt amazing.
“Well, it was worth a try. Share GUIDs then, and I’ll see what I can do. No promises though,” she said.
They pressed their palms together and a translucent cube appeared in the air. Dave traced a finger inside the cube, drawing a glowing blue circle. He pressed his palm against it and an imprint of his hand glowed red in the centre. She clasped her fingers and the cube collapsed in on itself.
“So if I do get you access, will you get to play tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah, my wife and kid will be asleep, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
He watched her eyes dart around her invisible HUD as she looked over his personal profile. He did the same, absorbing her data in a glance.
“Woah, ninety-nine point six percent progress towards BR 40. Impressive! Hey, you really are a jack-head,” she said.
“Very funny,” he said, suddenly serious.
“Oh, come on, Dave. I was only teasing.” She tilted her head and her eyes were suddenly awash with artefacts. When they cleared, the Galaxy War logo burned brightly from their centre.
“Forever war. Forever fun,” she said in a gruff military voice, mimicking the games strapline. The logo flipped and her eyes returned to normal.
He burst out laughing. This girl was something else. Becks never just joked around with him like this.
“Honestly, though, with this Mul-T plugin, you’ll be BR 40 in no time.” Her eyes danced around her HUD again. “Right, my test results are in and they’re all clear, so it’s jack-time, baby,” she said, throwing him a repeating smile as she stood up. “I’ll try and let you know tonight, OK?”
“Thanks, Starr.”
Dave watched her walk out of the clinic, eager to make the most of every last second, drinking in every curve as the ARt flowed over her body. If only he wasn’t married.
“Hey,” she called. “Good luck with the raid,” she said with a wink before walking away.
Dave beamed ear to ear, ignoring the glares as he tracked her every movement out of the clinic.
± ± ± ± ±
The heavy wooden door swung open just as he stepped up onto the porch.
“Welcome home, Mr Charlton, you have one message waiting from Mrs Charlton,” the house AI said.
He ignored it as he strode into the kitchen, straight to the nano-factory. He could guess what the message was, and frankly, after everything that had happened this evening, he needed a drink before he could deal with any more of Becks’ shit.
“Lagavulin. Triple measure,” Dave said to the house AI. It accessed the template for a 16-year-old peaty whisky, and instructed the nano-factory in the kitchen to dispense his drink.
Dave stood in front of the satin white box at the kitchen bench. He rubbed his temples and then gripped the bench on either side of the whirring nano-factory. A picture of Lagavulin Bay popped into ARSpace above the nano-factory as the template was loaded. The soft sound of lapping waves emitting from the picture in time to the animated water. The company logo shined brightly underneath the peaceful image.
He sighed. “What a night.”
A cut-crystal tumbler started constructing itself from the bottom up. The thick heavy base of the glass gave way to amber liquid as the glass and the whisky were created in one fluid motion. In just a second, a triple measure of the finest Islay single malt was waiting for him.
Dave didn’t even wait for the machine to ping. As soon as the glass was finished, he snatched it up and chucked the whisky down his throat. Finishing the drink in one go, he then dropped the glass into a hole beside the nano-factory. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed with contentment as the whisky warmed him from the inside.
“Let’s get this over with then. Play message.”
Dave turned as a section of reality fizzed with a wash of static. Triangles floated in from all around his peripheral vision, combining and building up to create a solid object in ARSpace. Becks was standing in front of him with her arms crossed.
“Glad to see you’ve seen sense and come home,” she gloated.
Dave rolled his eyes and requested another whisky from the nano-factory. He grabbed the glass and turned back to the image of Becks standing in the middle of the kitchen.
“You’d better have been to the clinic otherwise you might as well just leave now…,” The house AI, monitoring that he hadn’t left, continued to play the same message. “Good. By now, you should have received your first dose, which means we can start over in the morning. At least you shouldn’t be an erratic mess anymore.”
Dave thought back to the hours spent in the clinic, going through all the tests, and then the agony as they strapped him to the bench, and IX flooded his system with the detox drug. His body had convulsed and spasmed for what seemed like hours.
Becks was right. He wasn’t an erratic mess. But he still had that overriding feeling that he should be logged in right now. Like an itch at the back of his mind that had to be scratched.
“Which means you should be in good shape to look after Jake tonight. The nanny mech is on the blink and the engineer can’t come until tomorrow. So you’re on duty. I gave him 5 ounces at about midnight when I got in. I’ve got a diagnostics session tomorrow, so I’ll be up early. See you in the morning. And Dave, if I catch you playing that game, you won’t get another chance. Night, night.” Becks’ image blew him a kiss.
Dave flicked her the Vs as her image broke apart. He downed the second whisky and tossed the glass into the disassembler.
2 a.m. blazed brightly on his HUD. Fuck… that means Jakey would be waking up for his early feed any time now.
He started to pace the floor, wondering what to do. More than anything, he wanted to log in, but if Jakey woke up and started crying, he might not hear in time, and that would wake Becks up. And then he’d be screwed. His brain looped round and round trying to decide whether or not to risk it when a notification slid into his HUD.
This is command issuing an all units broadcast. Forseran is under attack. All players are to respond immediately. Recall to the broadcast warpgate.
“Shit,” Dave muttered. “Where the hell is that beta invite?”
If only he had that invite. He could get the plugin loaded and get online. They’d held Forseran for months. If they lost it now, it would mean many more months of trying to get a foothold again. The final battle had been so close; they’d almost been defeated. One of the pivotal moments was when he had led an attack on a weapons factory orbiting one of Forseran’s moons. Part of a multi-pronged attack to sever the enemy supply lines and cut off their resources. It had culminated in him leading a boarding party to capture the facility. If it wasn’t for him, they would never have secured it, and what then? Maybe the whole push on Forseran would have unravelled. He had to log in. If he didn’t, they were sure to lose the system.
Dave was about to make his way to his gaming room when a little square camera feed anchored itself to his HUD. The noise of a baby crying flooded his ears. Jake was awake.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dave cursed.
If he could get Jake back off to sleep, he might be able to make the alert in time and get to the rally point. He sprinted upstairs and into Jake’s bedroom. The sweet stink of baby shit boosted through his nostrils. Soft lights faded in slowly. Jake was writhing in the cot. Face flush with blood. Screaming his head off. He glared at the inert MAMS in the corner of the room, hoping that his hatred of its pathetic state would suddenly spur it into action so it could sort out Jake. He snatched his son out of the cot and unceremoniously dumped him onto the changing table. A new wave of higher pitched crying replaced the first, but Dave just roughly stripped off his clothes and ripped off his nappy. He quickly got Jake changed and requested 5 ounces of breast milk from the nano-factory.
He grabbed the warmed up bottle, fell into the rocking chair next to the window, and stuck it into Jake’s hungry mouth. He started sucking down the contents and silence descended on the nursery.
A second alert slid into his HUD:
This is command. All players rally immediately at the Forseran broadcast warpgate. Technology equals might.
“Fucking hell, Jake, come on already.” Dave started rocking the chair frantically, trying desperately to get Jake off to sleep whilst he was feeding. He seemed to be taking forever. Each suck of the bottle was an enemy fighter escaping his targeting reticle. Suck, suck, suck. He imagined the enemies’ capital ships surrounding Forseran, bombarding the defence shield. Suck, suck, suck. Their fleet destroyed, they prepared for ground assault. The frustration rose up inside him, bursting forth, similar to his missile boat being ejected from the launch tubes.
“For fuck’s sake, Jake, will you hurry the fuck up, you little bastard,” he said. He jammed the bottle hard against his son’s mouth.
With a ping, another alert dropped into his HUD:
Mul-T closed beta invite.
Dave felt relief flood through him, and in that moment, he caught himself and felt ashamed. He slowed the rocking and snuggled Jake into the crook of his arm as he relaxed his grip on the bottle.
“I’m sorry, Jakey,” he whispered as he kissed the top of his son’s head, relishing in the feel of his baby soft skin and fuzzy hair. Everything was going to be OK. Jake’s crying subsided and he finished feeding. Dave whisked him to his cot, but gently placed him to sleep as the milk fugue did its work.
He tiptoed out of the nursery, making sure the electronic doors closed as slowly as possible. Just in case.
Dave sprinted downstairs to his gaming room, feeling like a kid about to see what wonders Father Christmas had left under the tree. He jumped into the chair and it automatically tipped backwards. A huge grin plastered all over his face.
Dave reached out and touched the invite, and it unfolded from his HUD in front of him. Standard NDA type stuff. He pressed the green button straight away. The form folded away and a glowing logo of many hands dropped into his HUD. Dave licked his lips as a progress bar filled up. With a big grin, he eagerly jabbed at the logo as soon as the download completed.
Each hand of the icon peeled off one at a time, rotating in the air as they lifted up from his HUD and fluttered like falling leaves, recreating a massive version of the logo in front of his face.
A deliberately mechanical female voice echoed around the room.
“Welcome to the closed beta test of the ground breaking multi-tasking plugin, Mul-T. Please press the logo to embed to your neural network.”
Dave nodded in appreciation to the skill and design of the plugin. This was already looking super-slick.
He immediately slammed his hand in front of him. Synchronised chimes sounded as ripples of colour burst out from the centre of the Mul-T logo.
“Cool,” Dave said.
A red warning box appeared.
Security warning: Untrusted certificate
Warning, IX cannot verify the identity of…
Dave dismissed the warning with a wave of his hand. Usual bollocks, he thought.
Another red warning box dropped down in front of the Mul-T logo, which was now softly chiming repeatedly. More ripples of light raced away from the centre of the logo, hidden by the big red dialog box hanging in the centre of his vision.
Plugin privileges
Warning, this plugin is requesting read and write access to:
Your system functions
Full cortical control…
Dave swiped it away, but another replaced it, and another. Jesus, how many screens do I have to swipe through in order to play? Goddamned nanny state. Home hub control. Integrated systems. GUID access. He didn’t even know what some of the categories meant.
Eventually he swiped away the last screen.
“Thank you. Installing now,” the mechanical female voice said.
He relaxed back into the chair as the progress bar filled up, each completed percentile sending pings of light dancing around the room. He sat forward as the indicator hit one hundred percent. The Mul-T logo split apart, similar to a sheet of wet meat. A screaming skull tore through the rags of flesh. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating him in a drizzle of red droplets. The skull looked like it had just been ripped out of someone’s face. Bits of flesh and gristle clung to the bone. It flew towards him, ribbons of torn muscle streaming out behind it. A wailing scream sent a shiver up his spine and he tried to cry out. His voice defied him and the scream wouldn’t come. He tried to throw his hands up but they wouldn’t move, locked in place to the arms of the chair. He felt panic rise in his gut as the skull closed in on him. It was an inch from his face when he tried to throw himself from his chair, but still his body wouldn’t respond. The skull snapped its broken yellow teeth right in front of him and then disappeared, uttering an evil cackle that faded away slowly, as if echoing down an old wet tunnel.
What the fuck? he thought. If that’s somebody’s idea of a joke, it isn’t funny. He felt as if he was shaking but his body wasn’t moving. He tried to rub his eyes, but still his body wouldn’t comply. What the hell is going on? His HUD flared as every icon activated at once, all outlined in red fire. His vision was a mess of burning icons. As the flames faded away, icons started activating on his HUD, but he wasn’t initiating anything. Windows dropped down into ARSpace as his HUD activated them. His banking system opened up and started accessing his accounts. Money was being pulled out of the joint account, out of his account, out of the savings and share accounts. Mortgage deeds were accessed and transferred to people he’d never heard of. Pensions were drawn down to unknown bank accounts.
He put every ounce of strength into moving, but it was no good… his body wouldn’t respond. He tried cancelling the actions by blink clicking, by thought control and eye-gestures, but nothing worked. Then he tried screaming again. In his head, he was shouting for Becks. To come and help him. Please. But no sound came out. He was a prisoner in his own body.
Who the hell was doing this?
Life insurance policies were checked for Becks. For Jake.
No. No. Please, no.
The documents streamed past, as if someone else was scanning through and reading them.
He heard the garage doors swooshing open. Was it the Police? Had they somehow been alerted? But then he heard the cars start up and leave. And the new bike he’d just bought. Engine rumbling as it drove itself away.
When he heard footsteps, he thought maybe Becks had woken up. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as a procession of their household mechs walked past the gaming room, walking straight out the front door. Jesus Christ. Was there anything they weren’t going to steal?
Then two camera feeds appeared in ARSpace in front of him. Becks’ and Jake’s rooms, side by side. The nano-factories in both rooms came to life, and started spewing out a thick green smoke. It rolled out and clung to the floor, the room filling with a noxious looking green gas. Dave could only watch in horror as Becks and Jake writhed silently in agony. He wanted to scream. Wanted to jump out of the chair and run and save them. To call the police. To get help. But he couldn’t. All he could do was watch. He tried one last time to fight against it, his veins and arteries feeling as if they were leaping out of his skin. He imagined muscles ripping apart, gouts of blood flowing over his body as he valiantly fought against his imprisonment. But the reality was, he never moved. Tears welled in his eyes as he realised this was his fault… all of it. Unable to wipe them away, the tears pooled on his face, smudging his view.
Then he heard new footsteps and thought it might be another chance at being saved. Maybe there was enough time to get to Becks and Jakey?
Two shadowy figures stood above him.
Someone wiped away his tears to reveal faces obscured by highly polished black helmets and bodies adorned in expensive looking combat armour, Section-X stencilled across the front in white letters. As one, they keyed a button against their necks and the helmets unfolded from their heads, retracting into the bulky collars. What the fuck? What the hell is going on?
The woman pressed a finger to her ear. “Command, this is Agent Starrix. Site locked down. Asset isolated and collateral secured. VTOL will be inbound in five minutes.” She paused to look him up and down. Was that disgust he saw in her eyes? Who the hell was she? “Roger that,” she said.
She turned to the man and ordered, “OK. Wipe him, doze him and get him stowed for the trip. You’ve got five minutes.”
“Yes, Chief,” he responded. A flap opened from his armour and he pulled out a small, cylindrical object. One end was smooth, the other covered in millions of pins. From the way they glinted, they looked needle-sharp. Dave suddenly realised the shittiest day of his life was about to get even worse. He tried to shy away. To curl into a foetal position and forget this was happening. The man lifted his arm up and Dave tried desperately to shut his eyes. But as much as he tried, they remained open. All he could do was watch as the man slammed his arm downwards. A million tiny laser blasts burned their way into his brain at the same time. The pain was excruciating. It felt like his eyeballs were melting in his head as his vision filled with static. Lines flickered up and down. All his HUD icons flared again and then disappeared.
Agent Starrix looked over her shoulder as she was leaving. Her eyes were suddenly awash with artefacts. The Galaxy War logo burned brightly from their centre.
“Forever war. Forever fun,” she said, winking.
Pain flared at the base of his skull, the purple hex grid of his gaming construct visible as he managed to scrunch his eyes closed. The glowing lines broke down and corrupted as a scream finally found his lips.
± ± ± ± ±
<INFO: SECTION-X DELIVERY COMPLETE. 43 UNITS DELIVERED
<INFO: RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS
<SUCCESS: 41 PASSED DIAGNOSTICS
<FAILURE: 2 FAILED DIAGNOSTICS
>instruct – query failure
<ERROR: 0x8001 0x8044
>instruct – destroy failed units
<SUCCESS: FAILED UNITS DESTROYED
<INFO: INSTALLING UNITS
<SUCCESS: 41 UNITS INSTALLED
<INFO: RUNNING SMOKE TESTS
<SUCCESS: ALL UNITS PASSED
<INFO: NEW UNITS READY
>instruct – spin up all units
<SUCCESS: ALL UNITS PRIMED
>instruct – initiate black prism
<SUCCESS: NEW PROFILES COLLATED
<INFO: UNKNOWN INPUTS IDENTIFIED IN 4,321 PROFILES
>instruct – allocate all units to identify unknown inputs
<SUCCESS: ALL UNITS RUNNING IDENTIFY PROGRAM
± ± ± ± ±
Battle rank 40 progress: 0%
The progress bar glowed brightly against the all-consuming blackness.
<INFO: LOADING PROFILES
A purple hex grid appeared. Unknown names and faces, GUIDs and BONUS XP slid past in a never-ending carousel. BONUS XP. BR 40.Get to BR 40. Prickly heat burst all over his body. Itching. Insects crawled under his skin, clawing their way into his brain. Need XP. Now. There. Him. Mr Kenzo Sekiya +50,000 XP. Huge profile bonus. So much XP.
<INFO: ACCESSING PROFILE
Kenzo’s input data exploded into a network around the construct. Red nodes pulsed in the darkness.
Quick. Biggest XP. Must get to BR 40.
<INFO: LOADING UNKNOWN INPUT 1A
The construct collapsed. Only darkness now. A snap of bones and gurgling of blood. A sloppy, wet ripping sound. Thumping metallic footsteps. An involuntary whimper escaped his lips. The claw hoisted him by the throat. Its clinical white chassis was a mess of blood and gore.
>instruct – categorise unknown input 1a
Help. Get me out of here. Don’t let it kill me. I don’t want to die.
<SUCCESS: INPUT 1a CATEGORISED AS EMOTION: FEAR
+5,000 XP
The score disintegrated. Triangles pinged, one by one, as they zoomed into the progress bar.
Battle rank 40 progress: 2%
The heat built again. More. More XP. Itching. I need more XP. Clawing at his brain. Give me XP.
<INFO: LOADING UNKNOWN INPUT 1B
Unfamiliar scenes shot through his mind like a VR film set to instant consumption. The ARVatar was impassive as it cancelled his contract. His insurance refused to pay out. The court AI ruled against him. The repossession bots couldn’t be bargained with. He was finished. Broken. The final chug of vodka was no relief. The bottle arced through the air, smashing against the white exoskeleton. Mechs crowded around him from all sides, crushing his chest, suffocating him. Cold, hard limbs penetrated every orifice of his body. They tunnelled through him and burst out from the inside of his flesh.
>instruct – categorise unknown input 1b
They are everywhere. We depend on them. But they will cast us aside. Turn against us. They will destroy us.
<SUCCESS: INPUT 1B CATEGORISED AS ATTITUDE: AI AND AUTOMATED MECHANICAL SYSTEMS ARE A THREAT TO HUMANITY
+10,000 XP
Battle rank 40 progress: 6%
<SUCCESS: INPUT 1 COMPLETE
<INFO: BRIDGING TO ASSOCIATED OUTPUTS
He was travelling along multiple lanes of neon blue data at once, smashing through barriers of light. Each barrier was Kenzo’s every thought, decision, choice and action, based on the input of this emotion and attitude. They forced their way through his mind, and in a fraction of a second, he relived each one.
>instruct – validate associated outputs
If we don’t make a stand, they’ll destroy us. I’m going to rally people together, start a movement. I’m going to dedicate my life to this. Starting now.
<SUCCESS: EMOTIONAL CONTEXT UNDERSTOOD
>instruct – identify interested buyers
The construct was a sea of red nodes. He watched as the lanes of neon slammed into four of them, instantly colouring them blue.
Against each of the blue nodes, monetary values tumbled upwards. Categories flipped. Flags changed colour. Statuses switched. Descriptions updated. Scores changed.
Behavioural data uploaded to:
World Security Agency +7,000 XP
VR Nexus +2,000 XP
GenTec +2,500 XP
People Info Inc. +2,000 XP
<SUCCESS: DATA SOLD
Battle rank 40 progress: 11.4%
More XP. More input. I need more input. End game. Get to the end game. I need more XP. But BR40 is so far. So… far… away. He feverishly worked his way around the construct, like a digital bloodhound being steadily overclocked.
Battle rank 40 progress: 34%
The unrelenting bombardment of inputs was exhausting, but he was unable to pause, even for a nanosecond.
Battle rank 40 progress: 66.19%
The constant trickle of experience points was just enough to keep the itching at the base of his brain at bay.
Battle rank 40 progress: 71.4%
The final node flipped to blue, sending a pulse of soft light travelling through every single connection in the construct. A big stream of glowing text appeared.
Profile complete +50,000 XP
+40,000 XP for emotional biomap
+10,000 profile bonus XP
+347,700 session XP
+25,000 speedrun XP
+40,000 XP for data broker matches
+60,000 XP for data re-sale value
Net score: 672,700 XP
The text exploded line by line, filling his view with a barrage of triangles that were absorbed by the progress bar. The tinkling sound became a steady stream of noise as the XP racked up, point by point. He hungrily watched the progress bar fill towards the end, willing the last triangle to push it to one hundred percent.
A fanfare sounded from all around him. Every visual element of the construct exploded at once, recombining to form a huge block of text against the blackness.
BATTLE RANK 40!
Fireworks burst from the surface of the letters.
Before he even had a chance to enjoy the moment, a million tiny laser blasts burned their way into his brain at the same time. The pain was excruciating. He could imagine his eyeballs melting in his head as his vision washed with static. Lines flickered up and down. Pain flared at the base of his skull. The glowing lines of the purple hex grid broke down and corrupted. The scream in his head evaded his absent lips.
± ± ± ± ±
<INFO: PROFILE COMPLETE FOR (15b214ce-bbbc-4e08-9b65-bcf56d9723a7)
<SUCCESS: EMOTIONAL BIOMAP COMPLETE
<INFO: BEHAVIOURAL PREDICTION CONFIDENCE: 98.01%
<INFO: (15b214ce-bbbc-4e08-9b65-bcf56d9723a7) IDENTIFIED AS THREAT LEVEL ALPHA
>instruct – target (15b214ce-bbbc-4e08-9b65-bcf56d9723a7) for Project Imperium
<RETURN: CONFIRMED
<INFO: UNKNOWN INPUTS REMAINING IN 4,320 PROFILES
>instruct – reset unit (99815204-c85c-4287-8a71-c8cb6f53b78c)
<SUCCESS: UNIT (99815204-c85c-4287-8a71-c8cb6f53b78c) RESET
± ± ± ± ±
Battle rank 40 progress: 0%
The progress bar glowed brightly against the all-consuming blackness.
<INFO: LOADING PROFILES…
±
Craig Lea Gordon fell in love with Science Fiction at a very early age. His earliest memory is of bawling his eyes out on aSaturday morning when a shabby looking robot called Metal Mickey appeared on TV. It wasn’t anything to do with the low budget production values, but instead because it had displaced Battle of the Planets, his favourite sci-fi program.
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