Sola smiled, “You’re a funny bird, Sam Wynbrook.”

  We were lying in bed as an alien voice sang in the distance. She pressed my nose like a button. “Why didn’t you talk to me before?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d go for a guy like me.”

  The moment was almost perfect. Almost. A robotic voice pierced through, invading our intimate setting.

  The voice was male, with a calm and even, matter-of-fact tone. At first I couldn’t understand its language. It shuffled through several alternative tongues, as if it were trying to pick the tumblers of my mental lock. Finally, I heard it settle into English.

  “Ah. Here we go,” it said. “I suggest you wake up. I have calculated a high probability of imminent death if you don’t.”

  The entire scene with Sola melted away to a black void. That strange alien singing lingered in the background. The darkness bloomed with increasing luminosity until I re-awakened to the harsh reality of my eradicated world.

  “Ah. There you are,” the robotic voice said.

  My head throbbed—my jaw pulsing with pain. My stomach twisted and burned as if someone were scooping it out with forks.

  “….aaaaahhhh….” I groaned.

  “While I can certainly appreciate the benefits of a good rest, I highly suggest we strategize about the game.”

  “W-what?” I blinked.

  I reached up and felt my mouth, fingering a hole where a tooth used to be. Dark blood dripped. My lips were swollen, split open, with pulpy flesh jutting out. My jaw clicked, out of joint.

  “Oh my, you could certainly do for some dental care.”

  “Wh-where are you…?”

  “I’m right here.”

  I rubbed my eyes, not seeing anyone.

  “A little lower.”

  I looked down at the gauntlet on the ground. A male AI face stared back at me from its screen.

  “Hello,” the AI said. “Do you hear that song?”

  I clutched my aching gut and struggled to sit up. The pain in my abdomen was excruciating. I leaned on one arm, glancing up at the Skybotron. A horned, gelatinous creature was singing an alien anthem with three mouths. She extended drippy limbs, pouring her heart and soul into the performance.

  “What is that?” I asked, dribbling blood down my chin.

  “That is the ISL anthem being sung by a Glivnyxx. This means that Slayer Bowl is about to begin.”

  As the song crescendoed, the Skybotron cut to deep space shots of starships in formation. They fired laser cannons, blasting a field of asteroids, in a grand display like a fly-over before a championship game. A series of live shots showed fans across the multiverse going nuts.

  I rubbed my swollen jaw, held my stomach, and looked around. I spotted the legion of warriors all lined up for battle in the distance. I winced, scooping Count Basil back into his pot and setting him inside my rucksack.

  I picked up my pizza cutter. I shoved it into my right holster and double-checked the other one was still in my left. My insides felt loose—the slightest move sent daggers of pain rifling throughout my gut.

  “I… need… to find Dom Blady.”

  “I’m afraid that doesn’t match our primary objective.”

  A shrill whistle blasted. The sky portal dilated as thousands of glowing orbs shot into the atmosphere, scattering in all directions. As they arced downward, they burned glowing beacon trails across the sky.

  “And there’s the orb-drop!” Blink exclaimed from the Skybotron. “Slayer Bowl 342 is underway!”

  The entire field of warriors erupted in war shouts as one-by-one they were enveloped by green crystalline shells that flashed, then disappeared.

  “Shit… Blady… where the hell did they all go?”

  “They have teleported to random places around the global game map.”

  I picked up the gauntlet. “Then, why am I still here?”

  “You did not teleport because you were not wearing an ISL gauntlet.”

  I tried to stand, but immediately crumpled to my knees. My stomach boiled. I grabbed my belly and groaned.

  “Oh…God…”

  “You are going to need some help,” the AI chirped. “If you put me on, I can analyze your injuries.”

  I slid the gauntlet back onto my left forearm. It auto-adjusted back to a perfect fit.

  “Who are you?” I grunted.

  “I am your Equipment, Recon, and Navigation Interface. But, you may call me ERNI.”

  “ERNI,” I coughed up blood. “I’m Sam.”

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sam. A quick scan of your injuries indicates you need a Med-Kit. You have a severe internal bleed in your upper intestines.”

  “Don’t have time for that,” I said, rising, my knees weak. “I need to find Sola.”

  “Who?”

  “The girl I was with. Dom Blady took her.”

  “Dom Blady has already teleported to another part of the world. Your injuries are severe and soon the global game map will be seeded with bloodthirsty monsters. Restoring your health and finding weapons should be our first priority.”

  “Can you track Dom Blady?”

  ERNI projected a holographic map into the air.

  “Unfortunately, I am unable to track individual warriors. I can simply render them on your map as yellow dots when they are in close proximity. The same with monsters, which will appear as red dots. Now, we need to get you a Med-Kit.”

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  “Uuahhh,” I nodded, woozy. “Okay. Where do we find one?”

  Our best bet is to search for an equipment trunk or the nearest locker room. Admittedly, you might not have enough time for that.”

  I stumbled around, scanning the field for trunks. I didn’t see any. But, there was something. All of the dropships had departed, except for one that had suffered laser damage to its hull. It was tilted onto its side.

  ----

  Once inside, I rummaged through the dropship’s cargo bay, which was pretty well ransacked. I slammed the lid of an empty trunk, frustrated. “There isn’t anything in here!”

  I peeked behind the trunk and something caught my eye—a faint glow, emanating from the shadows.

  “Hold on…”

  I wedged my shoulder against the wall and reached behind the trunk. After fishing around, my hand returned with a small vial of luminous blue liquid.

  “Hey, ERNI, what’s this?”

  “I can examine it, but I suggest you sit down first and close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “I need to perform a task that I was unable to do while you were unconscious.”

  I reluctantly did as I was told. I sat down, leaned against the wall, and shut my eyes.

  “You’re going to feel some weird sensations in your brain, Sam.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m syncing our systems—enabling total integration between us. This will link our senses so that we’ll be able to see, hear, and contextualize things as one. It’ll also bring your HUD online.”

  “Aaaah!” I winced, grabbing my skull.

  “This procedure is pretty invasive. Perhaps, I should have bought you dinner first. That was my attempt at humor, per your lexicon.”

  I grit my teeth as a fiery buzzing sensation burned throughout my synapses.

  “Gnnnah, how much longer?!”

  “Almost there… and done. Okay, open your eyes—slowly.”

  I peeked my eyes open, blinking a few times. Though seated, I was dizzy.

  “Whoa.”

  “You’ll find this new state disorienting. It will take you a couple of minutes to fully acclimate.”

  I felt a complete assault on my senses, as if my central nervous system had suddenly been patched into a live-wire. My brain was flooded with a torrential stream of data and knowledge. My sight was instantly amplified with an extreme level of sensory detail. There were all sorts of new gauges and readings splayed across my field of vision. Numbers, graphics, and symbols, most of them alien in nature, and beyond my comprehension.

  “Uhhhhh,” I mumbled, wrestling with the complexity of what I was seeing.

  “One moment,” ERNI said. “Let me tweak a few parameters and change the language config file. This will simplify things a bit.”

  My vision went blank for a moment, then flashed back on—this time with a simpler English user interface.

  “Oh, that’s way better,” I said.

  I looked at ERNI’s face on the gauntlet screen and noticed an info-box hovering above. The box was like a hint bubble on a computer screen. It read:

  Official ISL Warrior Gauntlet.

  (ERNI) Equipment, Recon, Navigation Interface.

  I looked away, my eyes drawn to a new notification.

  Warning: You Are Hurt. Seek Cover Immediately!

  I could hear a heartbeat. Was it mine? It thumped in synced rhythm with a pulsing red glow across my vision.

  “What’s with the red strobe and heartbeat?”

  “That’s your health gauge warning. As I indicated, your intestines are severely injured. Your HUD will flash red any time your health is under 50 percent as a warning that you need to find a safe place to rest. If you do, you’ll heal at a standard rate of 2 percent per minute. Of course, elixirs and Med-Kits will provide much faster healing.”

  I noticed info-boxes popping up over everything I focused on. I looked at the blue vial of liquid in my hand. The pop-up read:

  Vylga-Goo.

  A Healing Elixir For The Discerning Vylgarianth Warrior.

  “Vylga-goo?” I wondered. “Uh, what is this exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. This elixir isn’t in my database. But, Sam, at the rate of your intestinal bleed, my analytics indicate that consuming this vial is worth the risk.”

  “Fuck it.” I said, uncorking the vial and guzzling it down.

  I doubled over, grabbing my stomach.

  “Gaah, that hurts!”

  “Uh oh,” ERNI fretted, “Perhaps it was for external use.”

  My face relaxed as the pain started to subside. The throbbing in my jaw disappeared. My lips and mouth began to heal with remarkable speed. I rubbed my stomach as the twisting agony relented inside.

  “This was a most fortunate find,” ERNI said. “While it didn’t provide complete healing, according to my scan, it did stop your internal bleeding. You should be stable enough for us to search for gear.”

  “Okay,” I nodded, rising to my feet. I was feeling better.

  A line of text appeared in the top center of my vision.

  Mission: Find Weapons.

  There was also a new timer, ticking down in the bottom left corner.

  1st Quarter: 35:47:58

  Warriors: 5,999,347

  “Okay… what about the rest of these things? What’s that countdown timer and warriors number?”

  “That is your play clock and remaining competitor count. The play clock displays the remaining time left in the current quarter. Each one lasts 36 earth hours. The remaining competitor count tracks how many warriors are still alive or active in the game. The circle in the bottom right corner is your map. Orbs will display as pulsing white dots and scoring zones as pulsing green circles. Skulls represent corpses, which are worth investigating for loot.”

  “Got it. What about that binder icon in the top left?”

  “That is your playbook, the central repository of your inventory. There, you will find all of your equipment, plays, and statistics.”

  I thought about asking ERNI to open the playbook, but before I could, it automatically zoomed and flipped open. The digital sheets were organized in grids of squares. Many of them were blank, while others contained various items represented by icons.

  “I’m afraid you don’t have much in your inventory,” ERNI said. “Just what you’re carrying on you. However, as you discover items in-game, they will automatically be added to your inventory and I will store them for you. When you wish to use an item, simply think of it, and I will bring it up for you. Of course, you may also browse through the pages or search for the exact item you need. Then, mentally select it and it will materialize for your use. When you’re ready to stow it, think that too, and I’ll help you put it away.”

  “Cool. Where do you store the stuff?”

  “That’s rather complicated and, unfortunately, we don’t have time for an inter-dimensional physics discussion. However, the key mechanics to my interface are simple and intuitive. To examine an object, simply focus on it and its properties will display. To open an item, think open. To close it, think close. And to click, think click. Likewise, if you wish to check your stats and scoreboard position, simply think that and I will display the data.”

  I nodded. While not exactly like any game interface I’d seen before, there were familiar elements. It was like a funky combination of football, a first-person shooter, and an RPG.

  I mentally flipped through my playbook pages, checking out my inventory. ERNI was right. There wasn’t much. I had my rucksack, a broken cell phone, a basil plant, a leather belt with holsters, and two pizza cutters.

  “I noticed that you are armed with two cooking utensils,” ERNI inquired. “According to my database, that is uncommon for humans.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty uncommon.”

  “Would you like me to store them in your dimensional inventory?”

  “Nah, I’ll keep these handy, if you don’t mind.”

  I mentally clicked into my stats page. The layout was simple, kind of like a stats screen from one of my deathmatch games.

  Level: 1

  Race: Human

  Class: Hopeless Rookie

  “What the hell, man? I’m a Level 1 Hopeless Rookie?”

  “That is the standard level and class for first-time participants. If you manage to survive, you will be assigned a new class, based on your performance.”

  I glanced at the rest of my stats.

  Rank: 5,999,347

  Points: 0

  Fans: 0

  “What’s the rank mean?”

  “That is your position on the scoreboard. At present, you are last, out of six million warriors.”

  “Well, that’s discouraging.”

  “Considering you were a target for annihilation, the fact that you now have a Slayer Bowl ranking is a marked improvement.”

  “I guess. Hey. How do I know I can trust what you’re showing me? How do I know you’re not some piece of gear left behind by an enemy to trick others.”

  “Deceit isn’t in my programming.”

  “Well, why were you left behind, then?”

  ERNI’s screen glitched momentarily, then his face returned.

  “I suffered a significant shock to my circuits in the last battle and I may have exhibited a faulty function or two. So, I was shelved until I can go in for maintenance.”

  “I knew something wasn’t right! That’s why your info box couldn’t display your level. You’re broken!”

  “I prefer ‘uniquely-circuited.’ Sure, I may have some compromised capacitors, but I remain largely functional. You could certainly disable me if you wish. However, no warrior may participate in Slayer Bowl without a regulation ISL gauntlet. The choice is up to you.”

  I considered this. ERNI had a point. No matter the awkward nature of our partnership, the reality was we needed one another.

  “Look, I don’t care about this game,” I said. “I just want to find Dom Blady and rescue Sola.”

  “According to my calculations, your best chance of making that happen, is to reach the fourth and final quarter as a finalist. Dom Blady has done that for the past 15 years. This would provide the highest probability for you to confront him one-on-one.”

  “Alright, ERNI,” I nodded. “Let’s do this.”