The Barsoom Project

“Point!” one of the two judges called. The judges were unusual. They looked like snowmen: more the Frosty than the Abominable variety. Complete with carrot noses and black top hats, the two odd creatures had appeared at the beginning of the evening break, and led the Gamers on a whistling march to a mountain concealing a network of ice caves. Inside the cave was a suspiciously warm spring, and a banquet of fresh fruit, vegetables, hot breads, and lean proteins.

After the meal most of the Adventurers had been coaxed back into the bracing cold for a little game.

With the glowing sky above them, the vast expanse of arctic plain surrounding them, and the specter of tomorrow’s destruction before them, the Gamers had adopted very much of a “Tomorrow we die” air, and engaged in the greatest snow war of all time.

Johnny Welsh wouldn’t play; he didn’t like things hitting him in the face. Orson wouldn’t play; it just didn’t sound like fun. Max no longer found that surprising, but it still bothered him. Those two watched from the sidelines, looking obscenely comfortable.

There were two trenches twenty feet apart, with low parapets of snow. Max, Eviane, and Trianna manned the battlements. Behind them crouched Hebert and Kevin. Together they composed the Reds, a gang of desperados if ever there was one.

They sucked frigid air, dizzy with exhaustion. A few minutes earlier they had repulsed an all-out assault by the Blues.

They had Charlene on defense, and although she had to stop every few minutes to massage her knees, she was actually quite good. She couldn’t run anymore, but dogged practice had given her fair control of a snowball, and indecently high speed. Her first attempts were hilarious; her reflexes didn’t know which way gravity went.

Kevin threw himself into the game with maniac zeal which was already beginning to flag. He had no reserves at all.

The Blues were headed by Hippogryph. Max had experienced firsthand the full brunt of the man’s tactical brilliance (“The Cabal!” Hippogryph screamed. When Kevin turned his head to look, pop.)

— and his courage: hiding behind a shrieking Charlene, approaching under a white flag to strike swiftly and devastatingly. Max decided that he didn’t like the man. The only reasonable course was assassination.

“Kevin?”

Kevin was winded, and flushed from where a snowball had brushed the end of his nose, followed a moment later by a dinosaur-killer that exploded on his parka. The skinny computer-warrior wasn’t going to be much use much longer.

The situation was grim.

“We have to lure that son of a bitch out,” Max said.

“How?” Pant pant. “Got any ideas?” Pant.

“Well, he already used the white flag, so that’s no good. What about single combat?”

“What?”

“I remember reading about a form of Eskimo single combat. I could challenge him. If it looked like I was losing, you could bomb him.”

“Why do you think he’d go for that? You’re bigger than he is.”

Max grinned. “Yeah-but I think he’s Dream Park Security. if he is, he’s well trained. He won’t be intimidated by size.”

Eviane nodded. “Sounds good.” Her face clouded for a moment. “Are you sure we have guards posted? I like playing-”

“We’re on break-” Kevin started.

Max shut him down with a wave. Stay in character. “I’ve got Johnny and Orson keeping an eye out for the Cabal. We need the relaxation.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure.” Eviane seemed vague.

“So what’s got you so worried?”

“I feel blind. I still get glimpses of the future, Max, from back when I was dead. But I don’t remember any of this.”

Trianna and Kevin tried not to roll their eyes too obtrusively.

The two snowmen referees looked somewhat like fluffy white Gumbies. One waddled over to the Red team’s walls and intoned, “The score is twenty-four to twenty-four. The rules allow for an extension of the play period, or you can go for sudden death.”

Max beamed. “Sudden death!”

“And the preferred mode?”

“ Mano a mano. Get that lardass Hippogryph off his duff. Quote me.”

The snowman’s eyes twinkled: an odd sight. “You can be sure of it, sir.”

Kevin brushed snow out of his hair, and plopped back against the snowdrift. “Do you really think he’ll go for it?”

“I can hope.”

“And if he does, do you think you can fuck him up?”

“Kevin, do you eat with that mouth?”

Kevin shuffled his feet, embarrassed. “What I meant was, I’ve never actually seen you fight, but this isn’t some choreographed bullshit-”

Max batted an arm at him. Kevin yiped and skipped away. Eviane drew lines in the snow with her finger, thinking absently. “I’ve… been here before.”

“Here? You mean this exact place, reliving this exact day?”

She smiled shyly. “Something like that. It’s the place, and I think I was doing the same thing. And it was just as important as everything is today… ”

“But?”

“But different people were there. No snowmen. And four of us were dead before we ever reached here. We’ve been lucky.”

“I wasn’t there?”

Her green eyes flashed at him. Devastating. “No. You weren’t.”