"But why should that be so tiring? It's just a game. .
She looked at him incredulously. "Take a look around you, sonny. Do these people look like they've been playing a game?" He did look around. And Mary-em was right. Fatigue was etched into every face, dark rings under eyes and noticeable trembling in fingers and hands. He focussed for the first time on the amount of touching and cuddling going on around him. Tony and Acacia cuddling in the shadows, Bowan and Dark Star touching each other with almost embarrassing intimacy, and Chester snuggled with Gina in their double sleeping bag. Oliver and Gwen had retreated from the campfire altogether.
It was a little like a battlefield, he realised. The highly charged sexual atmosphere was no mere tease, and anything but casual. The immersion into a fantasy world was total; the exhaustion was real. The real need to reach out and touch. .
Where did it all fit together? And how did it relate to him, and
his problem? He looked at Mary-em, who was waiting patiently for his response. There was no electricity in her face now, but there was poise, and purpose. How did she fit in?
"You're right. It doesn't feel like a game. But it sure isn't real life. So what is it?"
"It's not that simple, Gary," she said, and he realised with a start that he had never before heard her speak softly. "It's a little different for everyone." Her eyes twinkled at him, and he was startled again to find himself considering her attractive. "Mostly, it's just fun. What you bring is what you get, sonny. Now, me, I do some pretty wild things all the time. Some of these folks never do anything more exciting than talk to a filing computer. So they come for straight out adventure. Some come for the Game challenge. You know, chess with living pawns. Puzzles. Some come for the people. I mean, when you're into Gaming as deep as this, sometimes it gets hard to find friends who don't think you're from Mars. That's all too simple, really. It's little bits of all of the above, different for every Gamer." She chucked him under the chin. "That's what makes it fun. So think about it. I think you'll make a hell of a Gamer when you figure out where you fit in."
She waddled off to her sleeping bag and zipped herself halfway in. The bag rustled, and she started handing clothing out, making a neat pile by her head. Griffin felt a sudden and inexplicable wave of affection for her; he fought an urge to hug her goodnight. Instead, he deposited his dish in a grimy pile and found his own backpack.
He was within touching distance of half a dozen sleeping Garners. No aspiring killer would try anything with so many potential witnesses nearby. The Griffin unrolled his superlight, heat-reflective sleeping sack, wishing for a moment that it was plain cotton. He slipped into it and took a final look around. All was quiet, all was peaceful, except for the half-formed questions that raced through his mind in unending circles, like dozens of tiny dachshunds chasing their tails.
With a supreme effort of will he pushed the questions out of his head and settled down to rest. He heard crickets in the bushes. He was wondering whether those chirps were live, or just more Dream Park magic, when his mind fuzzed out in sleep.
(delete this)
Chapter Seventeen
THE LAST REPLACEMENTS
The dream was too vivid for comfort. It began with the Nibek chasing Griffin through the halls of R&D, and ended with the creature cornering him in the first floor lounge. A spear materialized in his hand, and Alex threw it into the monster's head. It screamed thunderously and collapsed to the floor, melting into the form of Albert Rice, trussed and gagged and sitting dead by the drink dispenser.
"I'm sorry..." Griffin found himself saying automatically. A small crowd of people materialized, tsking the still form of the guard. A little gray-haired lady waved a disapproving finger at Alex. "He may not have been well balanced at the end, but he was a fine, upright boy," she said.
Someone in a snowy-white doctor's smock spoke with Bobbick's voice. "I knew the lad well, and he wouldn't take this sitting down..."
And just before the morning mists dissolved into the sounds and smells of breakfast, a third voice whispered, "Believe me. He was for real until he got his back up against it. Believe me . .
"Hey there, sleepy-head!" Acacia grinned at him, squatting to look into his face. Griffin parted gummy eyelids and groaned aloud. "What's the matter, tough guy?"
"That's simple, Cas. This sleeping bag doesn't go over too well with my water-bed body."
"Well, how would some bacon and eggs go?"
"Fresh eggs?"
"Absolutely. Kibugonai showed up this morning toting a cache of fresh eggs, bread, and orange juice."
"Me for cargo." The last niggling speculations about his dream were swept away by the sudden hollow in his belly. "What time is it? How long till Game time?"
"About an hour. Come on and eat. Kasan says that there'll be a place to bathe up ahead." She sniffed under her arms, dubiously. "Frankly, I need it." She bounded up and made for the next bedroll, where S.J. lay curled into a compact lump.
Griffin yawned. He split the velcro seal and rolled out of the bag. His legs felt a little sore, and he massaged life into them with the practiced edges of his thumbs. Breathing deeply and slowly, he stretched out to touch his toes and twisted to each side, feeling the circulation return to the muscles in his back. He finished the warm-up with a few slow push-ups, then got to his feet.
The mood of the group was highly charged again. A night's sleep had refueled their fantasy engines. Alex remembered the nuzzling going on yesterday evening, and wondered whether sleep had much to do with it.
Henderson was holding court against the bole of a tree, munching a sweet roll while balancing a plate piled high with eggs and fresh bread. Kagoiano served Alex his breakfast, and the security man ambled over toward Chester to eavesdrop.
"What did you think of last night's opposition?" Bowan asked between bites of egg.
"The natives?"
"Typical orcs," was Chester's answer. "It's really a shame nobody has figured a more realistic way to conduct personal combat. Dream Park is too worried about injuries and lawsuits. So no rough stuff-"
"Orcs?" Griffin asked.
Henderson was brusk. "Generic term. The old role-playing games were overrun with these little beasties out of Lord of the Rings. They were ridiculously easy to kill. Now it's a nickname for swordfodder in general. Okay?" Griffin nodded mutely. "Now, Lady Janet is going to lead us as far as she can. She was blindfolded much of the time, but believes she was kept on the water somewhere. Is that right?"
"Certainly." Lady Janet's head was pillowed contentedly on Leigh's shoulder, but her voice was brisk. She was into her part. "I'll tell you everything I know. I have an excellent sense of direction."
"Fm sure you do. We have another clue." Chester pulled a black-bladed dagger out of his belt. "Considering that it was the focus of last night's ceremony, we can count on its being important. Does anyone recognise the material?"
"Obsidian," S.J. piped up. "Volcanic glass with a composition similar to rhyolite."
"Right," Chester said, smiling approval for once. "And the significance?"
"No opinion. What good is a glass dagger?"
"It tells us that the people we're looking for probably live near a volcano. So what we're looking for is a body of water not too far from a volcanic region. Kasan can help us there. We should have our two replacements pretty quick, and then we'll be back up to full strength. I have an almost perfect group now, and when the fun really begins we should be working together well. Yes, Tegner?"