The Barsoom Project

The lower left screen cleared, and Dr. Vail appeared. He was sixty-four and looked thirty-eight, with that lean and leathery Californian healthier-than-thou look about him. His blue eyes always seemed feverishly bright and intense. “It looks like I timed this right. Mr. Myers, pleased to ‘meet’ you, finally. Your work on the Psychology of Engagement has been instrumental in developing our behavioral programs.”

“Dr. Vail.” Arlan inclined his head slightly. “What does my little treatise on Gaming theory have to do with weight loss?”

Vail smiled. “You expanded Gaming theory beyond the mathematics of penetration, envelopment, and confrontation to the patterns of attention which influence an encounter. ‘Rhythms of concentration,’ you called them.”

Alex leaned back in his seat, fingers laced, fascinated and totally out of his depth.

Arlan seemed pleased. “Yes, of course. Human existence is cyclical: circadian rhythms, Kreb cycles, the circular movements that the human eye makes even when trying to hold steady on a single point, these things are well documented. Mental focus exhibits similar cycles. Regardless of the level of intelligence or concentration, there are ‘down’ points in the cycles, perceptual blind spots, ‘floating holes’ where information simply slips through unnoticed. The more fatigued or single-minded we be-come, the larger the holes get.”

“Yes. And you timed the engagements in the original Fimbulwinter Game to ‘hide’ some of the clues in plain sight, as it were. You took advantage of temporary blackouts due to fatigue or attention engagement. This idea forms the foundation of the Fat Ripper Specials. We hit the Gamers on every level except conscious/analytical. They think that the point of the Game is the exercise. The exercise isn’t the medicine, it’s the spoon.”

“Nothing up my sleeve…” Arlan chuckled. “If my little postulations have been useful on a more practical level, I’m glad. Tell me: you’ve run several of the Rippers; why is this one a special problem?”

Now Alex spoke up. “Due to a security risk, it has become advisable for me to enter one of our people into the Game. This run consists of thirteen Gamers and up to forty-three Actors playing multiple roles. Most of the Gamers were on the waiting lists long before Dula was announced for the Game, so no problems there. Actors are all Dream Park personnel, and have been checked. The Park is closed to ordinary tourists, so we’ve minimized risks across the board.”

“So what exactly is your problem?”

“I wouldn’t want Mr. Bobbick killed out. I can’t bend the rules to help him.”

Arlan nodded approval. “Even in the best of causes, cheating is still cheating.”

Marty shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’ve seen plenty of Games. Watched ‘em from the outside, I mean. It doesn’t look so hard..

Asian Myers laughed heartily. “Oh, I can hardly wait to see your tapes. Appearances can be deceiving, Mr. Bobbick.”

Griffin warmed, remembering his own Game. “I was wondering whether it might be permissible for Marty to take a look at the actual Game plans.”

Myers reddened. “No, no, no! If he knows the answers, he will give them away.”

“But if they aren’t playing for points…?”

“No! The other players will notice who is lucky, or who is successful, and rally around him.”

Dr. Vail’s blue eyes narrowed. “It throws the whole structure of the Game off. The Actors are highly trained to conceal their knowledge. You’d be surprised how much eye and body movement gives information away. In the last century a performer named Kreskin ran a mind-reading act you wouldn’t believe, basically by observing body language.”

“I agree with Vail. You could destroy the balance of the whole Game.” Myers turned and looked at Marty. “What do you have, three hours until the Game begins?”

“Seven hours. Time difference.”

Myers’s lip curled. “Oh, yes. Well, that gives you enough time to read I Made the Pits Too Big: Confessions of a Retired Deity.”

“The Lopez biography?”

“Yes. That will give you an overview. I can give you a rundown of the Gaming rules.

“One. The duration of the Game will be three days, that is to say seventy-two hours.

“Two,” he ticked off on his fingers. “The number of participants, thirteen.

“Three, the Wessler-Grahm auditing company has produced a variant on the standard Gaming tables for use in the Rippers. Even though they have no credit with the IFGS, they provide a means for Ripper participants to reference their efforts. This is new. In earlier Rippers there wasn’t enough feedback.”

“Competition is often valuable,” Vail said. “Feedback always is.”

“Four,” Myers continued, “there will be a penalty of fifty percent of accumulated points in the event of a player’s death, twenty-five percent of which will be rebated if the player returns to the Game as a tornrait, a helpful undead.

“Five, the Game will be conducted for sixteen hours out of every twenty-four-”

Dr. Vail interrupted. “Except that the programming will continue for twenty-four hours a day.”