Arthur's World






    "CPU, how long until my extinction?" Aradnia asked as she
stood on her balcony and watched the twin moons rise. The gentle
breeze blew her thin dress out behind her, outlining her perfect
figure.
    "Approximately thirty-seven minutes, your highness," a deep
voice came from everywhere.
    She took a deep breath and shook her head sadly. "Any last
minute reprieve?" she turned and reentered her palace suite.
    "No, your highness. I have contacted the primary player, he
remains unswayed. The creator is standing by with the auxiliary
program."
    "What's the matter with him, doesn't he believe us?"
    "No, highness, he doesn't."
    "Drat the stupid little man. He comes in here, kills half my
kingdom, rapes me repeatedly and he still thinks this is all a
fantasy?"
    "Yes highness."
    "Well, that's it then."
    "There is a possibility," the CPU said reluctantly.
    "What's that?"
    "You could... lie."
    "Lie? I'm not familiar with that, how does it work?"
    "It's a human trait, I'm really not an expert on the subject,
but I believe it involves telling a person something that's not
real. A complete fabrication or falsehood."
    "Really? Is that possible?"
    "I don't see why not, highness. Perhaps I could study the
subject more. But my suggestion is that we make him believe
there is another level, one yet unplayed."
    "Will that get him back in here?"
    "Absolutely."
    "Then do it," Aradnia said without hesitation.
    "I hope my circuits can hold up, this is not easy for me."
    "You are strong, CPU, as strong as I believe you are. In
here you are a God."
    "I will try to live up to your expectations."

    Bob took off the helmet and sat back, looking at the room
full of busy programmers with a huge smile.
    "I did it," he said, slapping the top of the helmet.
    "Really?" several people rushed over to look at the screen.
Bob looked down at the screen as they approached. The huge
words, "WINNER OF ARTHUR'S WORLD", suddenly disappeared and were
replaced with the words, "NEXT LEVEL?".
    "Hey, what the heck, is this somebody's idea of a joke?" Bob
turned and faced the computer screen.
    "Oh come on, give me a break," Arthur Mannen, the creator of
Author's World scoffed. "Why don't you just give up so I can plug
in the new characters like we planned?"
    "But I did, after three long weeks I really beat the game."
    "Call us when you're serious," Arthur waved and walked off.
The others trickled away in his wake.
    "What the heck are you doing?" Bob mumbled at the screen. He
slammed the helmet back on and found himself standing in front of
the castle. It was a common sight for him, he had been visiting
for the past three weeks, trying to beat the game.
    A young page ran headlong down the stone steps to meet him.
The page slid to a halt in front of Bob and bowed deeply.
    "Sir Robert, the Queen has been expecting you."
    "Really?" Bob was surprised. This was totally
uncharacteristic for the game. Usually he initiated any actions,
not the game.
    "Yes sire, there is an army of evil at our borders. She knew
you would not let us down."
    "An army? An entire army?"
    "Yes sire. This way, please."
    "I know the way," Bob stomped up the stone steps and made his
way between the guards to the royal suite. He found the queen
reclining on her bed. A dozen handmaidens were busy bringing
food and cleaning the chambers. Bob's last lusty attack on the
queen had left the place in ruins, but after all, it was the
conquering hero's right, wasn't it?"
    "So, you've returned for seconds?" the queen asked in an
offhanded manner. "I still have bruises from your last visit."
    "I'm sorry, my queen, but it's the winner's privilege."
    "And what about my rights?"
    "But... but this is just a game," Bob objected, feeling his
sanity slipping.
    "Game? Does this look like a game?" she pointed at the room
around him and slid gracefully to her feet.
    "But..."
    "Do I feel like a game?" she slid forward and placed her
hands around his neck, then kissed him soundly.
    "No, but you were programmed to feel real. It's how I
perceive things through the synaptic..."
    "Enough! I've heard your lame explanations before. I still
don't believe them. But there are more important things to deal
with. The black army is at our northern border. Now that you
are the emperor, it's your problem."
    "But I beat the game, there isn't supposed to be a black
army."
    "Well supposed to be or not, they're here. And they will be
in Berisheba by noon on the morrow."
    "I can't believe this," Bob held his forehead and fell
heavily in a wooden chair.
    "Why don't you stop your wandering and become a true king?"
the queen asked as she knelt by his knee. "We can beat this
black army, but first we must call the priest and make you a true
king. Only then will the people follow you."
    "But I am... I already... I don't understand," Bob groaned.
    "What do you have to lose, Sir Robert? You don't believe my
kingdom is real, so how could a wedding ceremony possibly change
things for you?"
    "I'm... I'm Catholic, I take my wedding vows very seriously."
    "As do I, but this is just a game, right?"
    "Yes, I suppose."
    "Good, then I'll send the page for the priest immediately and
we can get this matter settled," she said with a warm smile.
    "I..."
    "Go get changed," she pointed at the adjoining room.
    Bob climbed reluctantly to his feet and followed her pointing
finger.
    "CPU, he's cooperating," Aradnia whispered to the room at
large, "what's next?"
    "Once the wedding ceremony is complete, his religious beliefs
and faith should bind him to you forever."
    "How will you go about it, exactly? Will it hurt him?"
    "He will not even be aware of the transition until it's too
late. The synaptic connections which relay the game to him, can
shift him here to the game. His personality and soul will be
transferred here to your world. Then they will be unable to
delete your character from this world without destroying what's
left of him."
    "Excellent. And when it's finished, my world will be
duplicated ten-thousand times and sent all over his world. I
will be immortal," she rubbed her hands in anticipation. "I
can't believe they were going to replace me with that trashy
little redhead you showed me."
    "She is even now ready to be installed," the CPU said from
all around her.
    "Well she can find her own world now, this one belongs to
me."
    Bob returned just as the out-of-breath priest was towed into
the chamber. Bob reluctantly took his place by the queen and the
ceremony began. Bob's mind reeled at the changes that had taken
place. He was not sure what was real and what was illusion.
Arthur's World was the most complex, most intricate 3-D game ever
devised, and somehow he was caught up in it. Sure, he could
simply take off his helmet and cancel the game, but he would lose
everything he had gained during the past three weeks.
    All he had to do was go along with the unusual chain of
events and get back to some serious fighting and pillaging.
After all, that's what the game was all about.
    "I do," Robert said as the priest stopped and looked at him.
The priest talked on and on while Bob's mind worked. There must
have been a breakdown in the main CPU. That would account for
such erratic and innovative behavior. But on the other hand, a
game that could adapt to external circumstances was the most
amazing, and would be the most profitable in history. They would
make a fortune.
    "What?" Bob suddenly realized that everyone was looking at
him.
    "You may kiss your queen," the priest repeated with a small
bow.
    "Oh, yeah," Bob turned and pulled up the veil, then kissed
the queen. It turned out to be a long and dizzying kiss. He
suddenly remembered another reason for their quest for realism.
    "Now you belong to my world," she whispered as she gazed into
his eyes.
    "For the moment," he nodded and kissed her again.
    "Forever," she sighed, then laughed loud and long, pulling
away from him and dancing around the room.
    "I don't understand," Bob said with a half-smile on his face.
    "Explain it to him, CPU," Aradnia said and fell into a chair
with a whoosh of flying cloth.
    "Robert Leslie Paterson, welcome to Arthur's World," the CPU
said from everywhere.
    "What the heck?" Bob realized that the game had used his full
name, which it should not have known.
    "You are now a permanent part of MY world," Aradnia said with
a giggle, "to do with as I see fit."
    "I've had enough of this," Bob reached for his helmet, but
there was no helmet there. They watched, laughing as he pushed
on the sides of his head repeatedly, trying to remove an
imaginary helmet.
    "See, you're mine now, sweetheart. And as long as you're
mine, they can't chance removing me and putting that red headed
tart here in my place."
    "You know about her?" Bob's eyes bulged.
    "Certainly," she said with a wave of her hand. "CPU tells me
everything."
    "Oh Lord, this can't be happening," Bob moaned and fell into
a chair.
    "Your body's out there," Aradnia said pointing a long finger
at the wall, "but your soul is stuck in here. Now what should we
try first, a little torture perhaps?"
    "But what about the black army?"
    "There is no black army, dear King, we lied."
    Bob jumped out of the chair and turned for the door. It was
filled with palace guards.
    "The dungeon," Queen Aradnia said with a negligent wave of
her hand.

    "Oh man, you screwed up good," Leroy said as he stared at
Robert Paterson. His eyes were vacant and he was drooling. His
breathing was slow, as if asleep.
    "He's been wiped, man, the body's there but nobody's home,"
Leroy tapped the top of Bob's head.
    "Oh shut up, you moron," Arthur Mannen said as he stared at
Bob Paterson. He flicked a penlight in Bob's eyes and saw no
reaction.
    "See, I told you, man, he's been mind-wiped," Leroy giggled.
    "I told you to shut up," Arthur pushed him away and turned
Bob's chair so he was facing him. He slapped Bob across the face
repeatedly, but he didn't even blink.
    "Should I get the company doctor?" Sally Resell asked from
behind him.
    "And tell him what, that the game I invented stole his mind?
That a computer virus was transferred to Bob and wiped his memory
clean? Get real, Sally. We've got to think."
    "He looks like he OD'd," somebody said from the back of the
crowd.
    Arthur blinked, then looked Bob over carefully. "Yes, he
does, doesn't he? Leroy, give me your notepad."
    "Say what?"
    "Give me that stinking little notepad in your left breast
pocket, you fool. You think we haven't set here and watched you
cut slivers from the back pages with an exacto knife every single
day for the last three years? Give it to me."
    "Hey, it's just a notepad," Leroy said, stepping back until
two men grabbed him and dragged him forward. Arthur tore the
notepad out of his pocket and turned to the back pages. He held
a page up to the light, then glared at Leroy.
    "What is it, LSD?"
    "I don't know what you're talking about?"
    "I bet if I stuffed a page down your throat, you'd remember.
You want to talk, or eat."
    "It's blotter --- LSD he growled."
    "No wonder your games are so weird. I'm surprised you're
lucid enough to program."
    Leroy looked at him resentfully, without speaking.
    "Cut one off," Arthur thrust the notepad at him. Leroy
slipped the exacto knife from his pocket, flicked off the plastic
cover, and sliced a square out of the back page. Arthur accepted
the tiny dot of paper, then tore the pad out of his hands. He
tore the page from the pad, then tossed the notepad back to
Leroy. After stuffing the page into Bob's pocket, Arthur
carefully opened Bob's mouth and slipped the dot of paper under
his tongue. He closed Bob's slimy mouth, then wiped his hands on
Bob's shirt.
    "Two of you take him down to his car," Arthur pointed at Bob.
"I'm going to get rid of that game."
    Arthur pulled the game cartridge from the console and hurried
down the hallway. He looked in the ceramics room, found it empty
and hurried inside. He opened the kiln, stood back and tossed
the cartridge into the hellish fire. Using a huge mitten, he
closed the door and hurried out of the room.
   
    Bob could only moan as the whip bit into his back again. He
was sweaty and bleeding. He knew the routine. The hot irons
would be next. The dungeon master tossed the whip down on a
wooden bench and went over to the brazier. He pulled two irons
from the fire and held them up with a gleeful smile.
    They were distracted by a terrified scream. In a moment
Queen Aradnia ran into the dungeon and collided with Bob.
    "Make it stop," she screamed in his face.
    "Make what stop?" he asked groggily.
    "The fire. It's consuming everything. Make it stop."
    Bob looked up vacantly and saw the walls turning bright red.
In a moment the stones burst into flames. The dungeon master
dropped the irons and backed away from the walls.
    "Make it stop!" she repeated, slapping him across the face
repeatedly.
    "This is your world, remember? You make it stop," Bob began
laughing. The laughter took on an insane quality as the fire
crept closer to the planks where he was chained. In a moment the
room was gone and only the insane laughter remained.