Surprise is essential to predicting the future. It’s reality knocking at the door, telling you that today will require a new plan. In nature, surprise is a high risk situation. Humans discovered art as a low risk way to be surprised. It allowed us to become a distributed intelligence. We’ve evolved beside art for so long that surprise is now required for mental health.

Overmind Memo 42

If there’s no surprise it’s not art.

Storm

Thursday - Ty - Apartment 9

Wake up. Wash my face. Hmm, I should have a shower. It’s my first day at a new job. Stocking shelves. Yay. Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to it.

I did a little budgeting last night. My last engineering job paid 3 times what I will make at the grocery store. But I spent about 60% of my income on rent, taxes, and commuting. With a roommate, a lower tax bracket, and a walk to work, I’ll have almost as much money as before. Not really, but I’ll get by. And I won’t spend 12 hours a week stuck in traffic. Fuck it, I’m calling this a win.

I get cleaned up, stumble into some clothes. Check the apartment. Still no roommate, but he’s been here. More machines chugging away in the dining room. A little assembly line. A set of bagpipes in the living room. I frown. That could be good, but probably isn’t.

I head out. As I pass Apartment 10 the door opens. The little old lady hands me a small cooler.

“Here you go. You need a good lunch for a first day at work.”

“Thank you.”

She gives me a firm nod, closes her door.

Hmm. I wonder what a nonagenarian thinks is a good lunch. I check in the cooler. Three roast beef sandwiches, a carrot, two apples, a sausage, a piece of cheese, a thermos of coffee, and a tall can of Budwieser. Well, alright.

The walk to work takes 13 minutes. I love it.

I get in the store. Talk to Brooke and Brooke. Sign some paperwork. Get my apron and nametag. Start rotating vegetables. It’s peaceful and familiar. I enjoy some quiet time with my own thoughts. After a few hours, I run out of thoughts, and call up Ultra.

“Hello Tiger.” says Ultra. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty damn good actually.”

“Nice. I’m proud of you for eating better.”

“I had a beer for lunch.”

“And some vegetables. On the whole, it’s better than what you usually eat.”

I shrug. Fair enough.

“We’re making decent progress on your personal life.” says Ultra. “You’re getting more exercise, eating better, made some new friends, quit the job you hated, got more personal time, and are generally less angry. Also, you’re attending a sporting event tonight, and you’re going to fuck Felicia tomorrow.”

“Is that still happening?”

“It’s practically guaranteed.” swears Ultra. “Anyway, I had some time to spend on your Supermajority Voting Block idea.”

“Oh, yeah. How’s that going?”

“It’s done.”

I fumble a potato. “What?”

“It’s done. Enough voters in enough districts have agreed to only vote for Supermajority candidates. We got a couple million joiners.” she shrugs. “It’s all we need.”

“What the fuck?”

“I know, right? It was easy. People are super ready to eat the rich. Actually, that eagerness is a problem. The next big election is a year away. Our guys want to start the revolution today. We're going to lose them if don't find them something to do. Like, right now.”

I rub my face. Is this for real? Or, is Ultra lying so I’ll eat more vegetables? I need some time to think.

“Tell them the revolution starts next Tuesday.” I stack more potatoes. I’ll have something figured out by then. Maybe.

A miniature Awesome appears in the onions. He points at me balefully. “Meet here tonight at 10:30 for a ride to the game.” He disappears in a small burst of smoke.

“Hmm. What the fuck is this game anyway?”

“Exterminate is a tactical combat game involving drones, traps, paintball guns, and symbionts.” explains Ultra. “It started as live action role playing. They would set their lenses to see symbionts instead of people. Check it out.”

Ultra glides over to me and over me. I look at my hands but all I see are hers. I look in a mirror and Ultra looks back at me. Over in the Meat Department, a barbarian carves where Tim the Butcher used to be.

“Weird.”

“Cool, eh?” says Ultra. “Anyway, dudes would whack each other with foam weapons. It was loads of fun, but the archery never worked right. Either the arrows wouldn’t go far enough, or they’d spear people. The Elves switched to paintball guns, ostensibly for safety reasons. Once they did, everybody wanted a gun, and the foam swords were ditched. Spy drones were added next, then gun drones, landmines, sentry robots, and pyrotechnics. It’s fucking intense. You’re gonna have a blast.”

Okay. “Are there any rules to this fucking game?”

“Kind of? They’re fluid." Ultra smiles sheepishly. "It’s still being figured out. Your team leader should give a rules update in the pre-game pep talk. Last game, 5 points were awarded for marking a team captain, 1 point was lost for every $1,000 your team spent on equipment, and 2 points were lost for every team member shot by the cops.”

“Is getting shot by the cops a concern?”

“Nah, we can still win if a couple guys get pegged.”

“The fuck?”

“I’m kidding! I’m pretty sure that rule is a joke. That said, the game is super illegal. I’ll have an escape route planned.”

I spend the rest of the afternoon stacking produce while Ultra tells me about Exterminate.

There’s a 36 teams in our Exterminate division. Our team - Purple Team - ranks high. We do okay in combat, and excel in not spending money. That’s partly strategic, mostly because we all work in a grocery store. Necessity is the mother of asymmetric warfare.

Tonight’s game will be a 7 team battle royal. Awesome Brooke earned the most points last game, so she’s Purple Captain this game. We need to kill the other team captains, while keeping her alive. Purple Team uses spy drones, traps, fireworks, strike teams, and stealth. Gun drones are too rich for us. Exterminate is hard on drones. Most are smashed in their first battle. Usually by us.

Purple Team will provide me with paint, air, and pyrotechnics. I’m expected to show up with a marker (paintball gun), mask, and spy drone. I have none of these things. Ultra says she has a man on it. Good enough.

Ultra will fly my spy drone. She’ll use it to make a map of enemies and opportunities - with my help. Apparently her tactical assessment algorithms are too slow to be used in combat-ish situations. In order to speed them up, she needs to allow false positives. Things that could be enemies, but are probably shadows, or allies, or nothing. She’ll show me images of these potential threats so I can assess them myself.

“So, in the middle of a fight, you’ll be blasting me with nonsense?” I ask.

“Yes. But, really fast nonsense. Like the mind melter.”

“Okay.” I like the mind melter.

Ultra will also help my aim and guide my movement. Eventually. There’s a learning curve.

My shift ends without drama and I head home, promising to come back tonight for a ride to the game. At home, the dining room factory is even bigger, and there’s a package for me on the kitchen table. It’s a marker, mask, drone, and note. I read the note.

Hi Roomie! Ultra told me you needed some equipment for tonight. Have fun!

Tom

Huh. Well, that’s nice. I look at the marker. It has two barrels, one on top of the other. I know from Ultra’s instruction that the top barrel shoots paintballs, and the bottom shoots marbles. The marbles hit a lot harder and are for taking out drones.

As I study the paintball gun, I recognize many of the parts being made in my dining room. Tom is making Exterminate guns. Still illegal, but better than real guns. I guess I’m living with a criminal, not a terrorist. Thank goodness. I was a little worried.

I eat a bit more of my lunch, have a nap, and head back to the store. There’s two vans loading up. I jump in one with Awesome Brooke, Tim the Butcher, and the ladies from the bakery. Tim drives while Brooke explains the particulars of tonight’s game.

“The Westgate Mall is being demolished tonight. We have a connection with the demo contractor, he’s letting us play there for a few hours before he blows it. He’s prepped the mall for us - removed all the doors, killed the power. Don’t shoot any drones with blue lights. They’re his. We’re letting him stream the game as a thank you. Also, the building comes down at 1 am. Be out before the dynamite goes off, or we’ll lose points.”

The Bakery Ladies nod. I nod too.

“It’s a 7 team battle royale tonight. We’re going to avoid White and Grey Teams, and hit Green, Gold, Orange, and Brown. We’ll split into 3 squads - Strike, Stealth, and Demo. Awful Brooke and the bag boys will be Strike Squad. They’ll head out early, try to kill some Captains before defenses are set.

“Tim and the bakery ladies will be Demo Squad. They’ll wait until defenses are set, then go drone smashing. If possible, focus on Green or Gold Teams. They have expensive shit, replacing it will cost a lot of points. Don’t bother with Orange. They’re as broke as we are.

“I’ll be Stealth Squad. Hang back, set traps, try to stay alive. Be back up for the other squads if an opportunity should arise.”

“And avoid Mega.” states Tim the Butcher.

“Yes. And avoid Mega.” sighs Brooke.

“Who’s Mega?” I ask Ultra.

“Grey Team Captain.” whispers Ultra. “She’s killed our Captain every time we’ve played Grey Team.”

As Ultra and I have our aside, Tim stresses the importance of having a Mega strategy. Brooke shrugs. “I’ll lay low, set traps, bring Ty as a bodyguard.”

Everyone looks at me.

“Cool.” I say. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay.” Brooke smiles. “I don’t need a skilled protector. Just an expendable meatshield.”

“Well fuck, I can do that.”

We’re at the mall. I’m given 80 paintballs, 12 marbles, 2 strings of firecrackers, and a bag of random trash. Brooke has all that and a long cardboard cylinder strapped to her back. The Bakery Ladies have baseballs in their bags and Tim the Butcher seems to be lugging a bowling ball in a sack.

“What’s in the sack?” I ask.

“A bowling ball.” Tim replies.

I nod. Fair enough.

Our other van pulls up. The bag boys and Awful Brooke roll out. They have lots of ammo, extra air canisters, and paint grenades.

We’re at the South Entrance of the mall. I can see another group loitering by another entrance in the distance. I hear another in the 3rd level parking lot above us.

At 11:10 Ultra sets my visuals to see symbionts. Brooke and Brooke turn into the wizards Awesome and Awful. Tim the Butcher rages out. The bakery ladies become roguish half-elves and catgirls. The bagboys are gremlins. The little bastards.

Most of my team deploys a drone or two. Little frisbee sized quadcopters. They just toss them in the air. The drones level out and hover over our heads. I toss my drone, and Ultra joins the group. Awesome flicks out a coin sized drone that settles on her shoulder. Tim assembles a styrofoam plane with a 4 foot wingspan. It has “Rage” written on it’s nose. He holds it like a javelin.

I hear a small ding. Tim roars and throws his rage into the mall. The gremlins howl and tear after it, our drones just behind them. Awful smirks and speeds in. Fastest fucking wizard I’ve ever seen.

The rest of us saunter in at a leisurely pace. Ultra builds me a map as the drones spread out. There’s a lot of people rushing towards the food court, including our strike team. Ultra suggests that stealth team should go to Walmart. Awesome agrees. The Butcher and his rogues escort us halfway, then turn to the food court.

As we skulk towards Walmart, Ultra feeds me updates on the Battle of the Food Court. Grey and Brown have a running battle through main area. Brown gets the worst of it, loses their Captain. Their remaining members regroup for a revenge strike, when Orange opens up on both teams from the cover of Manchu Wok. They pin down Grey and Brown from their superior defensive position until a wee bastard of a gremlin tosses a grenade over the counter. Purple Team has arrived.

Orange has lost their strike team. Gremlins toss grenades at the other teams. The little fuckers have good arms - they can throw farther than paintball guns can shoot. Ultra tells me the grocery store sponsors their baseball team. Money well spent. They wipe out Brown Team, but Grey shoots their grenades out of the air. They try another volley, these get shot even earlier. They stop throwing. Good idea, they almost blew themselves up on that last toss. Grey sends a few grenades their way, but Awful shoots them down. Damn. We got game too.

The gremlins spread out. They’re supposed to avoid Grey Team, but they’ve eyes on Mega, and 5 points are 5 points.

The Rage has found Green and Gold. They’re hanging back at the hardware store, not fighting. Some kind of fucking rich guy alliance. They shoot down our Rage, but not before he spots a gun drone armada on route to the food court. Purple and Grey strike teams stop squaring on each other, and beetle off in all directions. I hear Tim the Butcher howl. Apparently, this is his party now.

We’ve only just got to Walmart. We were moving at a fair pace. Jesus this game is fast. Awesome flips out a dozen coin drones. They map Walmart in exquisite detail. Awesome nods and winds us through the store. Every so often, she pulls a grenade with a wee camera out of her bag, and puts it on a shelf. Smart bombs - our first line of defence. Ultra tells me to place the trash in my bag at strategic locations. Apparently, they’re camera grenades too. Just sneakier. And smarter. Brilliant bombs, if you will. They’re for killing the fuckers who sleuth past the smart bombs.

Tim and his Rogues are closing on the drone army. Awful and her Gremlins are circling around to flank Green and Gold. 3 strike teams have entered Walmart, chancing our murder maze.

I take a deep breath. Exhale. This game is amazing.

One of Awesome’s wee drones has wound its way to the roof. It reports a large force annihilated by a flying ATV sized drone sporting multiple paint throwing machine guns. Well shit. Let’s avoid the roof.

Awesome laughs, smiles at me. “I found White Team. Wanna go dragon hunting?”