Rules of the Game. James Frey
Читать онлайн книгу.
An Liu, Maccabee Adlai, Little Alice Chopra
Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt, Shari Chopra, Jenny Ulapala
An Liu, Maccabee Adlai, Little Alice Chopra, Nori Ko
Kepler 22B
An Liu, Nori Ko, Little Alice Chopra
Sarah Alopay, Jago Tlaloc, Simon Alopay
Greg Jordan
An Liu, Nori Ko, Little Alice Chopra
Sarah Alopay, Jago Tlaloc, Simon Alopay
Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt
Sarah Alopay, Jago Tlaloc, Simon Alopay
An Liu, Nori Ko, Little Alice Chopra
Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt
An Liu, Nori Ko, Little Alice Chopra
Kepler 22B
An Liu, Nori Ko, Little Alice Chopra
Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt
Shari Chopra, Jenny Ulapala
Nori Ko
Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt, Nori Ko
An Liu, Little Alice Chopra
Shari Chopra, Jenny Ulapala
An Liu, Kepler 22B, Little Alice Chopra, Jenny Ulapala, Shari Chopra
Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt, Little Alice Chopra, Kepler 22B
Jenny Ulapala
Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt, Little Alice Chopra, Jenny Ulapala, Kepler 22B, Aisling Kopp
23 Months, 5 Days Later
Endnotes
Endgame Series
Ansible chamber on board the Seedrak Sare’en, active geosynchronous orbit above the Martian North Pole
kepler 22b sits in a shiny chair in the center of a black, low-ceilinged room. His seven-fingered hands are woven together, his platinum hair bound into a perfect sphere perched on top of his head. He reviews the report he is about to give over the ansible to his conclave, many light years away. The game taking place on the blue-and-white planet in the next orbit has experienced hitches and unforeseen developments, but it progresses nonetheless. Most of what has transpired is not terribly worrying, with the notable exception of the destruction of one of Earth’s 12 great monuments. This was the one that belonged to the La Tène Celts, the one called Stonehenge, and it is now utterly gone and useless. kepler 22b is deeply disturbed by this. At least one of these ancient structures—ones that were erected many millennia ago, when his people walked alongside the young humans of Earth—at least one is required to finish Endgame.
And this, more than anything, is what he wishes to see happen.
For a Player to win.
A Player.
He turns his attention from the report to a transmission hologram projected into the air not far from his face. A dim real-time blip moves over the map of a city on the Indian subcontinent. A Player. Judging by the speed, he uses some kind of vehicle.
This Player is not the one that kepler 22b expects to win, but it is the one he has been most curious about.
He is a shrewd and incautious Player.
Unpredictable. Excitable. Merciless.
He is the Shang, An Liu.
And kepler 22b would continue to watch but then the ansible hums and the hologram flicks off and the room fills with pitch blackness and the temperature drops to -60 degrees Fahrenheit. Moments later the blackness pricks with drifting motes of light and the room glows bright and there they are, their projections surrounding him on all sides.
The conclave.
kepler 22b would prefer to watch the Shang, but he cannot.
It is time to give his report.
Beck Bagan, Ballygunge, Kolkata, India
The Shang.
SHIVER.
blink.
SHIVER.
An Liu rides a Suzuki GSX-R1000, trying to gain speed but getting thwarted by the Kolkatan throng.
He twists the grips. The wheels spin over the uneven pavement. No helmet, teeth gritting, lungs burning, eyes like slits. Chiyoko’s remnants press into his chest. Next to the necklace of his beloved is a SIG 226 and a small collection of custom-made grenades. All of these are hidden from view by a cotton shirt.
He pushes north for South Park Street Cemetery. Pushes, pushes, pushes.
The cemetery. It is where he is. One of the Players who Chiyoko had nicked with a tracker. One of the Players that An is now tracking.
The cemetery is where he will find the Nabataean. Maccabee Adlai. Who has Earth Key and Sky Key. Who is winning.
Or believes he is winning.
Because there is a difference between these.
If An gets there soon, there will certainly be a difference.
If An gets there, Maccabee will not be winning. Not at all.
He will be dead.
And An is less than two kilometers away.
So close.
But the streets are full. Kolkata has poured her citizens out of doors this evening, all of them clamoring for information, for loved ones, for a decent cell signal. An dodges businessmen and spice wallahs, brightly dressed women and stray dogs, crying children and stalled Ambassador taxis, rickshaws with reed-thin men pulling their carriages along haphazard streets like fish working upstream. He curls the bike around an oblivious Brahman bull. Some people get in An’s way. These either get nudged by the bike or get a swift kick from An’s foot.
Out of SHIVERSHIVER out of the way.
In his wake are screams and bruises and cursing and shaking fists. There are no cops. Not a single officer of the law.
Is it because the world is on the cusp of lawlessness?
Is it because of Abaddon, even now, before it has struck?
Could it be?
Yes.
An smiles.
Yes, Chiyoko. The end is near.
Two large men appear at the intersection of Lower Range Road and Circus Avenue. They point and shout. They recognize him. They saw his video—everyone in the world has seen his video by now—and they want