by Charles RocketBoy

Byte Five - Incoming Game

There were big things coming- the big school concert, with Midi, Dance and Drama students all on show (Cyrus had been practicing for weeks) and, much sooner, a big Pong game between Mainframe High and a challenging System.

And cheerleaders had practiced their cheers and the Pong players had practiced until their diodes were sore all down their left side, and finally the day was upon them.

Lunch came and Mainframe High watched with interest as the competing team arrived for the match. All except Bob and Dot, who’d sneaked off for attempted romantic stuff and instead were fumbling through it so badly that they couldn’t even make small talk. They had to head back to lunch soon in mutual embarrassment.

“Maybe,” said Bob, before lapsing into silence. Then again. “Maybe we should, er, put this whole thing into a wait-state until-”

“No.”
“Agreed.”

And as they entered the lunch hall, they discovered that the opposing Pong team had arrived and was dominating a table. The lead member, a golden-skinned Data Sprite, stood up and gave a salute.

“Greetings,” he said. “My name… is Robert… Cursor. Pleased to… meet you.” He studied their expressions. “I’m… sorry, I have… a… speech imped…iment.”

“Ah, Shatnerism,” said Bob. “My cousin used to have that.”

“It’s a… real… pisser.”    

* * *

Turbo and the other Pong team members glared over at the competitor’s table.

“Can’t believe those two,” muttered Hardboot. “Fraternising with the enemy.”

“My dear Hardboot, we’re not at war with their System or anything,” said Megabyte.

“Not at war?” snorted Turbo. “This is inter-System team Pong. This is all-out war.”

“And in war, you keep your friends close… but your enemies closer,” said Phong.

There was a slight pause.

“So, they’re not betraying us to the enemy then?” asked Hardboot.

“I… have no idea, I wasn’t paying attention to most of the conversation.” 

* * *

Lunch was over and the Pong match was ready to start within a millisecond. The Midi teacher Dire Sal thought this would be a good time to hold a practice for the upcoming concert. He was wrong.

“THAT WAS THE WORST RUN-THROUGH OF THIS TIME, IN THIS NET! THERE IS NO USER!”
“Not as bad as a Dire Straights song,” muttered someone from the back.

“SHUT UP!” bellowed the stock, primitively-rendered Sprite. He hadn’t used to be this short-tempered but he’d suffered hours of abuse over his former career in the music industry. “I don’t care how distracted everyone is about the big game, we’re going to keep doing this run-through of the System Anthem until you GET IT RIGHT! REPLAY!”

Eventually, even Sal had to give up on the main piece and get the individual acts to practice. The guitar pieces were coming along well, even if Bob and Megabyte had a tendency to dominate them, and Cyrus’ dancing still stole the show. Daemon’s solo work on hymns brought the house down, especially her Swing Low Sweet Careware.

Eventually the class got dismissed so Sal could go off and drown his sorrows.

“This is really coming along good,” said Bob to Megabyte. “A few more seconds practice and we’ll rock the house!”
Irritating little twit. “Indeed. Our piece sounds rather like the Unix Pistol’s later work, I’d say.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m more into eighties rock myself.”
“Oh dear. That just won’t do.”

“Don’t you have better things to worry about than my taste in music? Like, y’know, the big Pong match in thirty nanos?”
“Oh, we all know we’ll win. The opposition’s chances will be erased the moment Phong arrives.”
“This is true.”

The two of them stepped aside to let Cyrus past. Dedicated to his craft, he danced his way down the corridor in a mix of classical ballet and interpretive dance. Bob had no choice but to clap this gloriousness.

Megabyte just sighed. He was getting fed up with the Binome. He was part of Megabyte’s gang and appeared loyal, but with Cyrus he couldn’t tell if it was sincere or just an act. You couldn’t tell if anything Cyrus did was sincere or just an act. Since the Viral gang relied on secrecy and loyalty, this was a concern.

Maybe he should get Cyrus onto GIGO as well. Addiction would keep him loyal.

He should also tell Bob to stop singing. Guitar skills or not, his vocal talents were non-existent.

“Bob, stop singing. Guitar skills or none, your vocal talents are non-existent.”
“Bah!”

* * *

The school playing field was full of spectators as everyone waited for the game to begin. The cheerleaders had arrived but their routine was being disrupted as Hexadecimal tried to join in.

“Mainframe High! Go fight win win win! Because if you lose, I’ll kill you!”

“Say what you will about Hex,” said Dot, “she’s a great motivator.”
“This is true,” said Bob.

“So. Er.”
“Erm.”

“…”

“…So, how did you get those shares in Al’s?”
“Well-”

“She asked Dad for some shares for her thirteenth birthday,” interrupted Enzo. “He bought her some in a few random companies, and she’s since sold most of them to get the money to buy a 15% interest in Al’s.”
“Really? That’s something.”
“My eventual goal is to get 50% shares,” said Dot. “From there, the Net’s my oyster. I can convince Al to finance the opening of a second diner in Baudway, thus netting a new market segment. From there I can set up a small company of food service outlets, maybe do some vertical integration by buying out a supplier or two, get full control of Al’s when he retires and then I start building a brand outside of Mainframe and then I start diversifying…”
“You’ve got a scary mind, Dot.”
“You better believe it.”

* * * 

“Commentating live from Mainframe High, your reporter MMMMMMIKE THE TV!

“Coming out now it’s the Mainframer team! That’s Turbo, Bakkup, Hardboot, Megabyte, Five, Hack, Slash, Jeff and the one, the only PHONGGGGGGGG!”

There was a huge uproar as Phong trundled onto the field. The Sprite looked behind him, not getting they were for him.

In the changing rooms, the opposing System were having problems as Powerlock continued his daily rantings.

“I can’t believe you were actin’ nice round those Mainframers! They’re the enemy remember? We-”

“Powerlock… shut up you… ass.”

“This is because I’m a viral, isn’t it you bigot?!”
“No, it’s because you’re an ass,” said E-Mail.

“I’m warning you…”
A tired Spectral hovered nearby, wondering what he’d done to be stuck with such a bunch of stereotypes.   

* * *

This is how Team Pong is played:

Nine Sprites on each time. Each Sprite is in a walled-off arena, attached to one wall and having to bat the Pong puck around with their arms, with the aim of hitting the opponents’ wall and scoring a point. Just like normal Pong. However, in Team Pong you can teleport the Pong puck to another member of your team in a different arena, and the teams remain in radio contact that the opposition can’t hear. The players not only have to be good at Pong, they also have to be good at working together, good at following orders, good at quick strategizing and good at reacting quickly when the Pong puck suddenly materialises in front of you.

This isn’t for amateurs.

“And there they gooooooooo! Turbo and Cursor are batting that puck around- they’re returning each shot with a vengeance, they’re hammering that puck without mercy! This is terrible ladies and gentlemen- how much more can that poor puck take?! They’re too evenly matched, the yin-yang of… puck batting stuff! Turbo to Cursor, Turbo to Cursor, Turb-
“AND IT’S TELEPORTED! Bakkup has the puck, go on my son! He’s whacking it towards Multi-Mate and blocked and sent back and Bakkup has failed to save and it’s a GOOOOOAAAALLLLLL! One-nil for Selective! One-niiiilllll to Selective!”

The first four goals, and both teams had two apiece. If you were smart (or listened to Mike’s blather), you’d notice how nobody had sent the puck to Phong yet. This was a tactic to make the Selective not notice him, underestimate him.

When he got the puck, he was a demon with it. Three goals resulted before his Spectral opponent was able to grasp what he was up against, and quickly teleport the puck to Powerlock.

“And it’s a grand slam! Slam-dunk against Megabyte, another goal to the Selective! That leaves it Five-Three in Mainframe’s favour! Can the opposition make up that before time runs out?!”
Yes. As the time of play neared the end, the Selective had gotten the score to a draw, seven-all.

This was the final round. Whoever won this would win the game.

It was a tense situation.

So when Hack got the puck, he screamed and teleported it to Slash.

He screamed and teleported it right back.

And this back-and-forth continued for a while, confusing their opponents.

“I don’t want it!”
“Me neither!”
Eventually Slash just wailed and teleported it away to a random person. The puck appeared in Phong’s hands, causing him to blink.

And then he slammed the puck in a ricochet manoeuvre, bouncing quickly off the walls until it reached the Spectral’s corner and scored.

“And with just three nanoseconds to spare, Phong has won the match! All is well with the cosmos! This is just the beginning of the PLANET OF THE APES!”
Mike’s microphone was thankfully disconnected. 

* * *

Both teams got changed out of their sweat-sodden Pong slacks and left the locker room, chattering away excitedly about the great game. Both victor and loser were off the opinion that this called for beer.

Daemon was waiting for Phong as he excited, hands behind her back and a smile on her face.

“I was watching. You did really well out there.”
“We all do what we must, my love. And some of us must smack pucks around to whomp others at their favourite game.”
She giggled slightly. “Come on, let’s-”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
All turned towards the enraged Powerlock, who was glaring down at E-Mail and Hack.

“I was talking to these guys about how well they play-”

“They were the ones beating our ASCII, you chump! What the hell are you thinking of?!”
“Powerlock! At… ease!”
“Get out of my face Cursor! I’m warning you!”
“ahem. What is the problem?” asked Daemon.

“And you stay out of this, girlie!”
“Excuse me?”

“You heard!”
“Yes but I am not understanding what all this is about? What is all this shouting? We don’t want trouble here.”
Powerlock sneered. “Look, you may have a nice rack and everything-”

Daemon’s usually tranquil face hardened at that.

“-but stay outta my face, unless you’re planning to stri-”

Wham.

And down Powerlock went, nose broken and an imprint of Daemon’s fist on his face.

His team broke out into applause, cheered, punched the air and hugged each other. 

* * *

“That game was totally alphanumeric! Pixelacious! High density!”

“You said it Bob!” said Enzo.

Dot and Mouse watched the two boys walk on ahead. Dot turned over to her friend and gave a bemused shrug.

“Ah, boys’ll be boys. Can’t stop that, sugah.”
“Yeah, I know. Still, they could at least come up with some better expressions. Nobody says pixelacious who wasn’t around in the IBM days.”
“Heh. So, honey, what’s this I hear about you and Bob being an item?” Mouse smirked. “Oh my, where did that sudden blush come from?”
“Thank you for this line of conversation,” muttered Dot. “Just what I needed, oh yes…”
“Don’t you like talkin’ about it?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that it’s really awkward at the moment.”

“Ah, that happens. You’ll get over it. Well, in theory anyway, you’re probably going to be like this until your breasts get saggy-”
“AUGH! MOUSE!” She shook her head in disgust, trying to remove the mental images. “And here I hoped that you’d spend your day bunking off not thinking of ways to torment me.”

Mouse’s smile froze for a second, became fake. Then back to normal. “Now who do you think Ah am, sugah?”
“A friend? And friends don’t torment each other…”
“Ha! What System are you livin’ in, honey?”

“The one where Charles Babbage, Norton, the User and the Easter Buggy all get together for tea parties. It’s got a pink sky and everything.”
“The truth comes out, Dot.”

* * *

Level 31. Al’s Diner.

They’d been raided here by brigands unknown. But that wouldn’t stop them. They’d placed an order for slow food and the Pirates were going to get that slow food.

“Here you go! The doubloons in return for those provisions!”
Al’s Waiter was not even fazed by this. You spend time serving Rasta Mon, you get used to funny-speaking people.

“Cap’n!” barked Sally urgently. “I can see one of them. He’s waiting outside this tavern…”
“Good work, helmsman. Now, let’s deal with this…”

* * * 

Cyrus had done something to tick Megabyte off, so he gets stuck with watching to make sure the Pirates weren’t going into G-Prime again. They were, which was odd- did they like beatings? Ah well. Not his problem.

He’d call Megabyte and tell him where they were and how many were there. Along would come the rest of the gang, the Pirates would get the message, and as long as he was on the door they couldn’t leave without him knowing.

Al’s, of course, had a back door that Cyrus wasn’t watching.

He realised this when Norton and Jimmy knocked him out, stole his boots and stuck a miniature Jolly Roger on him.

They couldn’t tell who he was under all his viral gear- it was almost Kubrickian like that. But they knew that by doing this, they were sending a message. That message being: Do not frag with us.

Arrr.

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