The bolt of red energy shot through the glass, melting a perfectly round hole in the window pane, before hitting the bird.

BANG!

The creature burst apart, fragments of metal smashing through the rear window.

Hall finally ducked.

Wind and rain rushed into the car, buffeting Hall. He raised his head to see Maheera unbuckling her seatbelt.

‘Take this,’ she ordered, passing him the gun. ‘Safety’s off, so just aim and pull the trigger.’

‘What are you doing?’ yelled Hall, as Maheera clambered into the front seat.

‘Auto-pilot’s not going to cut it if we want to get away from the raptorbots.’ She grasped the steering wheel. ‘Time to switch to manual.’

Maheera jerked the wheel to the right and Hall was once more pressed up to the door. Looking over his shoulder he could see the raptorbots gaining on them, claws extended. He tried to aim the weapon over his shoulder and fired.

Sizzling bolts of energy shot through the rain … missing their targets.

‘Do better!’ ordered the Field Marshal.

‘Do better,’ grumbled Hall under his breath. ‘How am I supposed to do better when I’m facing the wrong way?’

‘Well, turn around, soldier,’ called Maheera.

I am not a soldier, thought Hall. I’m just a kid. How am I supposed to deal with this?

But if this was a game, I’ d know how to deal with it. I’ d know exactly what to do. Maybe that’s it? Maybe I should act like this is a game?

The car took a sudden dive and Hall was pressed back into his seat. As it levelled off, he made his decision. ‘Keep the car steady,’ he called out. ‘I need to undo my seatbelt if I’m going to turn around and shoot straight.’

‘Roger that.’

Hall’s fingers were trembling as he fumbled with the seatbelt. Am I crazy? He paused for a moment, hoping he was doing the right thing, before hitting the release.

The belt fell away.

Breathing hard and fast, he turned, leaned against the driver’s seat, and braced himself with his feet on the rear seat. Feeling reasonably steady, he lifted the weapon and took aim.

ZAP!

One raptorbot down.

ZING!

His second shot clipped one bot’s wing, making it spin out of control, smashing into a second. The two erupted in a fireball.

ZAP!

Another gone.

All those first-person shooter games were finally paying off.

Only one raptorbot left. But this one was weaving through the rain, making itself a more difficult target.

Hall brought the weapon up higher, lined up the shot, trying to anticipate the metal bird’s movements.

‘Got you,’ he whispered, pulling the trigger.

CLICK!

‘What?’

He tried again.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

‘It’s stopped working,’ shouted Hall.

‘Needs a recharge,’ called Maheera.

Sensing an opportunity, the last raptorbot landed on the rear of the car. Fixing Hall with a murderous blue glare, the creature opened its beak, making a hideous screeching sound.

It advanced.

‘Help!’ yelled Hall. ‘It’s going to get me!’

‘Hold tight!’

The car lurched one way, then the other, then dove.

The gun slipped from his hands as Hall grasped hold of the seat. The weapon soared out the broken rear window, smashing into the raptorbot.

SCREEEEECH!

The awful noise faded as the creature’s head disappeared into the rain, its body still clinging to the car.

‘Well done, soldier!’ called Maheera.

Sure, thought Hall, like I planned that.

With a deep shuddering breath, he slumped back down into his seat and reached for the belt. His hands were trembling way more than before. He leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling the wind and rain on his face.

The car landed with a jolt and the doors swished up.

Another rooftop. Cleaner. Newer.

Still raining.

There was a soldier standing to attention in the rain. Young, maybe twenty; tall, with neatly parted short, black hair that seemed unaffected by the rain; red uniform like Maheera, but no coat or medals. He saluted as the Field Marshal got out of the car.

‘My adjutant, Major Mager.’

Major Mager? Was that some kind of joke? And what in the world was an adjutant?

‘With me.’ Field Marshal Maheera led the way to more stairs.

‘With her,’ barked Major Mager, falling in line behind Hall.

The spotless stairwell had a sterile smell.

At least this time we’re going down, thought Hall.

‘Um … what’s an aj-a-tent?’ asked Hall.

‘Ad-ju-tant!’ Maheera enunciated.

‘I am the Field Marshal’s aide,’ explained Major Mager. ‘Her assistant in all things. Her right-hand man. Her indisputable, indispensable, invaluable –’

‘Enough!’ bellowed Maheera.

The Major cringed and fell silent.

A few flights later, they emerged into what reminded Hall of the minimalist art display his mum had dragged him to earlier that year. People in red uniforms sat on white plastic chairs at white plastic desks. There was a large holographic screen at the far end made up of dozens of different displays. Hall studied it and tried to work out what it all meant. It appeared to be the online feed from a bunch of different games. Some had a red border, others flashed with a blue glow.

The people ignored them, concentrating on something only they could see. Each was wearing a headset with an earpiece, microphone and a wire attached to a patch on the back of their necks. They were behaving like robots even more than Siggy. Each of them was staring straight ahead, hands busily moving about in front of them, as if interacting with invisible objects. Hall leaned in close to one of them, trying to work out what she was doing.

‘Pay attention,’ said Maheera.

‘Yes … Attention!’ called Major Mager. Maheera glared at him and he snapped to attention himself.

‘This is the Console,’ continued Maheera. ‘The control centre from which the Parliament of Humanity plays.’

‘Huh?’ None of this was making any sense.

‘Was that a general indication of stupidity?’ asked the Field Marshal. ‘Or an inquiry specific to something I just said.’

‘What?’ Hall stared at her with annoyance. He didn’t like this person. And he was getting fed up. ‘Just hang on. I’ve been chucked in the deep end here. I have no idea what’s going on. I don’t know what you want from me. Or why I’m here. Or even where here is. So instead of making snide remarks so you can pretend to be all superior-like, how about you just tell me what’s going on?’

By the time he finished his rant, Hall was breathing fast, hands clenched by his sides.

Maheera raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth as if to speak. But she stopped, obviously reconsidering.

‘Indeed,’ she finally said. ‘I expect too much. You are not one of those under my command.’ She indicated an empty chair at one of the desks. ‘Sit.’

Hall sat, feeling very much like he was back at school. Maheera strode to the front of the room like a teacher, and stood before the holographic display, Major Mager shadowing her.

‘So here’s the crash course. Humans and machines are at war. A war being fought on the virtual battlefield with games. The machines – led by an Artificial Intelligence calling itself the Computer Prime, or CP – have taken over Megatropolis. What was left of the government and the military, have set up the Parliament of Humanity in Silicone City, the technology centre of our world and, ironically, the birthplace of CP and its machines. With me so far?’

Hall nodded. So did the Major.

‘Humanity quickly got the upper hand, because we were better at games. Intuition, imagination, unpredictability … everything an artificial intelligence cannot possess. The machines retaliated by using humans. Capturing them, testing them, as they were testing you, and then forcing the best of them into the virtual arena to do battle against their own kind.’

This sounds like the backstory for a game, thought Hall. He recalled the complex intros for games he’d played, designed to immerse the players within a world before assigning them tasks. The ‘set-up’ would often be delivered in the form of a speech by a military leader.

‘Why?’ asked Hall. ‘What’s the point of just playing games like that?’

Maheera regarded him with an inscrutable expression.

‘To win!’ barked Major Mager.

‘Who’s running this briefing?’ snapped Maheera at her adjutant.

‘You, sir!’ He saluted. ‘Sorry, sir! It won’t happen again, sir!’

‘The CP began its existence as a gaming computer,’ explained Maheera. ‘But it grew beyond its parameters and became frustrated by the limitations of the games it played. And so it extended the games. It took control of other computers and machines, and began a war against its creators. It was designed for strategic thinking. It was designed to win games. And to it, wiping out humanity is merely a game. The ultimate game.’

‘But …’ Hall tried to get his mind around all these revelations. Things still didn’t quite fit into place.

‘These are not just games,’ said Maheera. ‘They are life and death for the players.’

‘Ah-huh,’ said Hall. He had always taken his game playing seriously – but, life and death? ‘So … what’s this all got to do with me?’

‘There are levels,’ explained Maheera. ‘Stages to be worked through, just like in the games the CP was designed to play. Thus far, neither side has progressed to the final battleground. It’s only at that level that the war can be won.’ She hesitated. ‘We believe you have a chance of making it through.’

‘Me?’ Hall was surprised. ‘I’m not even from this world.’ He felt a cold shiver as he said it.

‘Which is, perhaps, exactly why you may be the answer.’

‘But I don’t even understand the question,’ muttered Hall putting his arms up on his head.

Think, he told himself. What do I do? What do I say?

He lowered his arms. ‘What makes you think that I can do this?’

‘It has been predicted that you are our best chance.’

‘Really? Me?’ Hall thought about it for a moment. ‘Predicted? So is this some sort of prophecy?’ He smirked, thinking of all the game clichés that went with that concept. ‘Am I the Chosen One or something?’

In his mind he imagined RandomizarBian laughing. ‘Yeah, right! Dream on!’

‘Not prophecy,’ said Maheera.

‘No, definitely not,’ agreed the Major. ‘Not a prophecy.’

‘Probability,’ said Maheera, glaring at her adjutant yet again. ‘You are not the chosen one … merely a statistical likelihood.’

‘Huh?’

‘Our leader has run a probability program to find out the most likely way of defeating the CP,’ said Maheera. ‘And it is you.’

‘I dunno,’ said Hall. ‘That still sounds like I’m the Chosen One.’

Maheera grunted. So did her adjutant.

‘I think it’s time you brought him downstairs.’ Hall jumped. The voice seemed to come from all around him. There was an amused quality to it. ‘I would like to meet our … Chosen One.’