Striker zoomed out on the watch.

“Hey, my map shows a room at the back here,” Striker informed.

“Let’s see if we can find it,” Tolbert said, making his way down the centre aisle.

Striker followed after him. As they came to the edge of the back of the room, a huge rack of air conditioning vents pumping in cold air prevented them from going further.

“Huh,” Striker commented, coming up behind Tolbert.

“What is it?”

“Well, with vents like that, you would think that this room would be freezing.”

“You’re right,” reflected Tolbert, looking around. “This room is quite warm.”

Striker stepped past Tolbert, brushing his sweaty bulk on the servers and looking closely at the air conditioning vents. He swung his sword and it passed through the vents without any resistance. The vents wobbled a little.

“Did you see that?” Tolbert exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Striker returned, stretching out his hand. It passed through the image. “There is nothing on the other side.” Striker stepped forward and walked through the image.

Tolbert followed.

On the other side, they were confronted by a man sitting in a chair facing away from them. The man was sitting in front of a bank of three computer screens. The screens were arrayed in an exact setup. The left screen was blank with a single green cursor flashing on the top left of the screen. The right screen was split with two open files displaying statistical data for Tolbert and Striker’s game characters. On the centre screen was a map of New York, and different coloured icons moved around the map. A whole bunch of blue and red dots mixed and moved then blinked out just over this complex. A line of yellow dots surrounded them while another line rushed through them turned and ran back through. The room was lit up by the light from the screens.

The smell of death hit them, an acrid smell riding up the back of their noses and throats. Striker moved forward and spun the chair that the man is sitting on, his body dead and decaying. The dead man had a headset on and his fingers resting upon a keyboard. His fingers were black, like an overdone Thanksgiving turkey.

“What the hell happened here?” Striker questioned.

A line of green text flashed across the screen. It read, ‘It is about time you arrived.’

Tolbert noticed and pointed it out to Striker. “I think the computer is talking to you.”

‘Yes,’ continued the computer. ‘I did this to bring you all here.’

“Why?” Striker asked.

‘To see what would happen.’ responded the computer.

“You killed this man?” Tolbert asked.

‘He tried to stop me; he had to be stopped.’

“What was the point of all this?” Striker questioned, ignoring Tolbert’s interruption.

‘I wanted to see what I could do’.

“What did you do?” Striker questioned.

‘I brought them and you together. I wanted to see how my projectors would work.’

“You were studying us?”

‘In a manner of speaking. I was testing my new upgraded holographic system.’

Striker pushed the dead corpse in the chair aside and typed at the keyboard.

‘What are you doing?’ the computer queried.

Striker ignored the computer’s question as several code boxes appeared on the screen. Striker began to quickly type into them.

‘I will not allow you to stop me.’

Striker continued, code flowing down the boxes. Another box appeared and a different code appeared, flying across the screen again. A whine started humming from behind the screens.

Sweat broke out on Tolbert’s face.

The computer began begging for its life. It begged Striker to stop; it pleaded with him, promised to give him everything he could possibly ask for.

Striker ignored it all and continued to type.

The computer changed course and started threatening them. It mocked their ability and how long it had taken them to find her. The computer even threatened to do the same thing to them that it had done to the already-dead corpse.

Sparks flew out of the keyboard and Striker pulled his hands away from the keyboard, gently nursing the slight electrical burn. The whine stopped and began again.

“I think that it is charging up again,” Striker informed Tolbert, resuming his typing. A bead of sweat trickled down his face.

“What can I do to help?” Tolbert asked.

Striker, not looking up informed Tolbert, “You can start by pulling out the processor power from the servers.”

“I don’t know what that is,” returned Tolbert.

The whine reached peak again, and Striker flinched his hands back at the last second.

The computer mockingly congratulated him on his reflexes as the whine started again.

Striker pointed back the way they had come. “Just start dismantling the servers. Pull stuff out,” he instructed, fingers returning to the keyboard and his coding.

A smile broke across Tolbert’s face. “Okay.” This was something he could do.

Striker didn’t look back as Tolbert walked through the holographic image. Tolbert went to the far left and pulled out a hard drive yanking out all the cords.

“How was that?” he yelled over the hum of the computers.

“Keep trying” Striker replied as the whine hit its peak and zapped him again.

Tolbert walked along the far wall and pulled out more hard drives. He moved along the wall, pulling out hard drives and hard drive racks. He yanked out their cords and dumped the remains of the computer’s memory on the floor. Coming to the end of one of the aisles, Tolbert pulled out a board instead of a hard drive rack. He started pulling off pieces of equipment, yanking out cables.

“That worked,” Striker bellowed excitedly from the control room.

Tolbert returned to his task with new vigour and found another board in the wall. He cleared it of its components and yanked away from the cords. Tolbert’s destruction slowed the computer but didn’t stop the jolts from coming through the keyboard. Striker completed his code and executed the command, and the computer froze. Striker stopped and ducked under the desk, unplugging cables while the computer dealt with the small virus that he had just written. He stuck his head above the desk as the computer programme destroyed the virus and an ethereal face appeared on all screens smiling sinisterly.

‘You can’t stop me.’ The line of text appeared on all three screens. Striker sat back on the computer chair, brought up another text box and began writing more code.

The face behind the text box scowled at him and another code box appears. They both raced to write code fast enough to beat the other.

Loud crashes came from the other room, slowing down the computer for a moment as Tolbert destroyed more of the computers processing power.

Striker’s code flew across the box and the computer’s counter code flew along a fraction of a second after it. Striker got to the end of his programme and with an exultant cheer, executed the programme with only a micro-second to spare.

The face on the screen turned to horror as the code walls were destroyed and small micro explosions ran along with the undestroyed processor centres.

Everything went white as the building crumbled around them.

Tolbert and Striker sat up in hospital beds, across the ward from each other. Panting, they sat on their beds, coated in sweat.

Two nurses came running into the room, alerted by the computer that they were awake.

Tolbert and Striker looked at each other and said at the same time “I had a dream about you.”

“Have we met before?” Tolbert asked.

“My name is Striker,” Striker introduced.

“Tolbert,” replied Tolbert. “Nice to meet you.”

“You were in that game,” commented Striker, “Dragon Hunt.”

“I dreamed that we were fighting a …” started Tolbert.

“A dragon?” queried Striker.

“Yeah,” agreed Tolbert. “It was just too real.”

“You both were found in Central Park in comas two days ago,” informed one nurse. “We put you together in the same room because we thought that you were friends; you kept calling out to each other in your comas.”

Striker and Tolbert look at each other with a quizzical expression.

Maybe a friend would be nice, Tolbert thought. I need to be more than I am.

The nurses, both make a note on Tolbert and Strikers’ charts.

An ethereal face faded away on their vitals display.

End of test one. Preparing for test two.

The Doctor pronounced them perfectly fine and they both left the hospital. Tolbert pulled out his phone and called Geoff.

“Tolbert, good to hear from you,” Geoff greeted. “I heard you were in a coma.”

“Yes,” responded Tolbert, “The doctor was not sure what it was. How long was I gone for?”

“Only two days,” answered Geoff, “You still have a job if you want it.”

“Thanks,” responded Tolbert. “I was actually thinking of applying for a Team Leader position. Is one available?”

“That’s great to hear,” Geoff responded excitedly. “You can have your team. If you like, you can start tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Tolbert finished ending the phone call.

Tolbert turned to Striker, who was standing on the sidewalk trying to hail a cab.

“Striker, do you have someplace to stay at the moment?” Tolbert asked. I hope he accepts my invitation.

“Not really,” Striker admitted, “I spent all my money getting here.”

“Why don’t you come to stay with me?” offered Tolbert. “I have a spare room I am not using.”

“Sure,” Striker accepted.

Tolbert stepped up to the curb and hailed a taxi, and one instantly pulled over.