Brainrush 04 - Everlast 01: Everlast Read Free Page B

looking up from the screen—or
putting on his headset.
    He was studying a recording of his last sparring event, playing
it over and over. When he focused on something, it could be hard to break him
loose. I’d learned it was best to let him be when he got into that mode. Even
though the brain implant he received years ago had done wonders to eliminate
most of the adverse affects of his autism, he still suffered from bouts of
paranoia. When that happened, he couldn’t stop talking. It could be annoying
and he knew it. So over the last year or so, he’d been trying to channel that
energy toward karate classes.
    The video ended, and I cringed when he tapped the screen to
start it all over again. Another loud kiai sounded. Sharper this time. I
flinched again.
    “Really?” my sister said, glaring at him. Ahmed didn’t
notice, so she huffed and plugged in her own earphones, turning her back on him
as she texted.
    I pulled my tablet from my backpack and propped it up on the
counter. Then I donned my neuro-headset, which was about the coolest thing ever
invented. The wireless device was a human-to-computer interface that allowed me
to control online games using nothing but my thoughts. Talk about hands-free! The
game developer named it the Spider because of the way its eight legs draped
around your scalp and forehead. If it had been up to me, I would’ve named it
the Octopus, since each of the legs was embedded with rows of circular probes
that reminded me of tiny suction cups. Either way, it was the latest device of
its kind, way better than anything else out there. The headset was still in
beta testing, but a bunch of them had been distributed to select gamers around
the world—the best of the best—each user getting a unit registered exclusively
for his or her use, no exceptions. It was no surprise that Uncle Marshall—who
wasn’t my real uncle, either—was invited to join the beta testing group. He’d
been a gamer elite for ages, same as many of his friends, and was probably on
top of the distribution list.
    But he’d been swamped lately with government contracts for
his cyber-security consulting business, and right now he was in Rome visiting his
wife, Lacey. She was an actress and she was on location for a film. So he’d let
me test it out for him on the sly. I was supposed to pretend I was him whenever
I used it online. He’d even added his own twist to the software so that when
the server at game headquarters pinged for a location address, it was rerouted
to wherever Uncle Marshall’s laptop was.
    I slipped the Spider onto my head, activating the
noise-canceling feature to tune out the world. It felt like home. The instant I
switched it on, the application on my tablet responded with an audible cue. “Good
morning, Marshall. Are you ready to play?”
    Oh, yeah! I thought, and the screen automatically drew me
into the online game in progress.
    As usual, while I played, I blocked out the endless stream
of underlying images, words, and numbers that accompanied the data stream, figuring
it was some sort of subliminal advertising gimmick the game makers were testing
out. As I dodged explosions and returned fire with all sorts of cool weapons,
my mind drifted on autopilot, exploring the network of other players,
connecting to their emotions and thoughts in a way that didn’t allow them to
notice the intrusion. I could tell the exact moment when each of them
recognized Uncle Marshall’s TurboHacker call sign—by their emotional groans. That’s
because I didn’t lose very often, and when I did it was usually because Mom
interrupted my play. But none of the other players ever gave up. In fact, they
seemed more determined than ever to beat me.
    My favorite weapon was the robotic swarm. It became
available after you used conventional weapons to kill twelve players without
dying yourself. The swarm consisted of twenty-four dart-sized drones that hovered
and zipped around like hummingbirds. The player could switch