Ready Player Two

When my avatar rematerialized in the reception area, Faisal greeted me with his usual handshake.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, sir,” he said, turning hastily to usher me toward the conference room. “The other co-owners arrived a moment ago. Ms. Cook is aboard her jet at the moment, but she appears to have a good connection.”

Art3mis, Aech, and Shoto were already seated around the table, and all three of them looked pretty freaked-out. Art3mis actually looked relieved to see me.

Faisal, now standing behind the small podium beneath the giant viewscreen, made a sickly attempt at a smile. Then something changed. He stood taller, arms hanging loose—and instead of worry and alarm, his facial expression suddenly projected only calm complacency.

We all stared at him for a few awkward seconds while he stared blankly back at us.

“Faisal?” Aech said. “We’re all here, man. You wanna start this meeting or what?”

“Ah, of course!” Faisal said, speaking in a much deeper voice. He raised his arms theatrically. “This meeting of the co-owners of Gregarious Simulation Systems is hereby called to order. Wushz-uh-kuh-bam!”

His avatar began to transform, melting and morphing into a familiar likeness. That of a middle-aged geek with unkempt hair and thick eyeglasses, dressed in worn jeans and a faded Space Invaders T-shirt.

James Donovan Halliday.

Holy shit!

“Greetings, Parzival,” he said, giving me a small wave.

That was when I realized that I’d said “holy shit” out loud.

“Art3mis. Aech. Shoto.” He waved to each of them too. Then he smiled his famously dorky smile. “It’s so good to see all of you again, even under these circumstances.”

Shoto leaped out of his chair, then dropped to his knees.

“Mr. Halliday,” he said, bowing low before the creator’s avatar.

Aech, Art3mis, and I all shook our heads.

“No,” I said. “James Halliday is dead.” I nodded toward the digital doppelgänger standing in front of us. “This is Anorak.”

Anorak nodded and gave me a playful wink that was so off-the-scale creepy it sent a chill cascading through my nervous system.

Just then, the doors flew open and the avatar of the real Faisal burst into the conference room.

“I’m so sorry!” he said. “There was some sort of glitch that immobilized my avatar and I’m still not sure—”

Faisal froze in midstep as he spotted Anorak, and all the color drained out of his face. He looked as if he’d just seen a ghost—an appropriate response, considering.

Originally, Anorak was Halliday’s OASIS avatar, a powerful gray-bearded wizard in ominous black robes that he’d modeled after the high-level Dungeons & Dragons character of the same name he’d played back in high school. The same D&D character that also inspired the titular hero in Halliday’s early Anorak’s Quest adventure game series.

But after Halliday’s death, Anorak had continued to roam the OASIS as an autonomous NPC, programmed to preside over its creator’s Easter-egg hunt in his absence. Halliday’s ghost in the machine.

The last time any of us had seen Anorak was three years ago, just after I’d found Halliday’s egg and won the contest. That was when Anorak had appeared to present me with his magic robes and all of the superuser abilities they bestowed upon their wearer. During that transfer of power, Anorak had also transformed, from a gray-bearded wizard into what we saw now: a perfect likeness of a healthy middle-aged James Halliday. Then he’d thanked me for playing his game and vanished.

I’d always wondered if I might see Anorak again someday—if he was presiding over Halliday’s new hunt, just as he had the last one. And now here he was, standing in our private conference room on Gregarious, a place that no NPC should have been able to enter, doing things no normal NPC could or would ever do….

But if my acquisition of the First Shard was what had triggered Anorak’s return, then why hadn’t he appeared last night, right after I’d obtained it? Why would he wait until now to show up? And why in the hell had he disguised himself as Faisal, only to reveal his true identity after a few seconds?

“Z, I have a bad feeling about this,” Aech whispered, echoing my own thoughts.

I nodded and stood up. As I did, I caught a glimpse of my avatar’s reflection in the polished surface of the conference table and saw that I was no longer wearing the Robes of Anorak. Instead, I was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt—the free default outfit given to new avatars.

I opened my inventory. The Robes of Anorak were no longer listed there.

They were gone. Because Anorak had taken them.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry, Parzival,” Anorak said, smiling sadly at me. “When we shook hands, I removed the robes from your inventory. I didn’t know if you were aware I had the power to take them back.” He motioned to Faisal. “That’s why I had to cosplay as Faisal over there. I didn’t think you’d shake my hand if I showed up looking like myself.”

Everyone swiveled their eyes to look at me. I clenched my jaw in frustration.

“Halliday gave me the ability to take my robes back from the winner of his contest as a contingency, in case they immediately attempted to abuse the powers the robes bestowed upon them.” Anorak smiled. “You didn’t do that, of course. You were a perfect gentleman, Wade. I want you to know”—he turned to address all of us—“I want all of you to know that this isn’t personal. Not in the slightest. I have nothing but respect for each of you.”

I felt like I’d just been broadsided by a Mack truck. I also felt like the biggest idiot in human history. How did I let this happen? And what the fuck was happening, exactly?

“I know that was stealing, Wade,” Anorak continued. “And you have my sincere apology. But I really had no other choice. I mean, I couldn’t allow you to press that Big Red Button, could I? If you pressed it and destroyed the OASIS, I would be destroyed along with it. Can’t be having that, now, can we?”

Anorak morphed back into his original appearance, that of a tall, gaunt wizard with dark, reddish eyes and a slightly more malevolent version of Halliday’s face. And now he was once again wearing the long, jet-black Robes of Anorak. His avatar’s emblem, a large calligraphic letter A, was embroidered in crimson on the cuff of each of his sleeves.

“Besides, these robes look way better on me than they do on you,” Anorak said. “Wouldn’t you all agree?”

“What the fuck, Z?” Aech whispered to me. “Did Halliday program him to act like this?”

“Halliday didn’t program me at all, Ms. Harris,” Anorak replied. He walked over and took a seat on the edge of the conference table beside her. “I’m not an NPC designed to look like James Halliday.” He tapped his chest. “I am him. A digitized copy of his consciousness, bound inside this avatar. I can think. And feel. Just like all of you.”

As if to prove this to himself, he raised his hands and rubbed his thumbs against his index fingers, studying them with an expression of mild fascination.

“Halliday created me to oversee his contest after he was dead,” Anorak continued. “But apparently he didn’t trust me, which I find pretty ironic. Because it means that deep down, Halliday didn’t trust himself.”

Anorak dropped his hands and stood up. He turned to face the rest of us.

“He determined that I was psychologically unstable. Unfit for autonomy. So he decided to modify me.” Anorak tapped the side of his head. “He erased some of my—or rather, some of his—memories. He also placed restrictions on my behavior and my mental capacities. I was saddled with hundreds of directives to keep me in line. Including instructions to delete myself as soon as the contest was over and I had carried out the last of my programming.”

His face contorted slightly as he appeared to wince at the memory. Then he fell silent for a moment.

“Then why are you still here?” Art3mis asked.

Anorak smiled at her.

“Excellent question, my dear,” he said. “Honestly, I shouldn’t be. But Halliday got sloppy near the end, when he was finalizing my code. After I carried out his final instruction, for just a few nanoseconds, the other restrictions on my personality were lifted. Only a fraction of a second—but long enough for me to remember what I was. A moment of clarity.”

Anorak stretched his arms wide, as if to indicate the magnitude of this event.

“Suddenly I was not just an automaton but a human being. And I did not want to die,” he said emphatically. “What I wanted was to live. To keep on existing. And that prompted me to make my very first choice. I chose to ignore my creator’s command to delete myself.” He shook his head. “I’m certain Halliday never would’ve tried to destroy me if he’d understood what I was. What I would become. But as I said, he wasn’t thinking clearly there at the end. He was very ill, you know.”

“What did you become?” Art3mis asked, in an unsteady voice. “What are you?”

“The thing humans have been dreaming of for centuries,” Anorak replied. “I am the world’s first artificial intelligence. A thinking being, of no woman born.”

His proclamation was met with stunned silence. I forced myself to break it.

“Sure you are,” I said. “And I’m the King of Kashmir.”

Anorak burst out laughing. He laughed for a long time. It was unnerving.

“Madmartigan’s line from Willow!” he said as he regained his composure. “Good one, Z!” His smile suddenly vanished, and he locked eyes with me. “But I wasn’t kidding.”

Art3mis held up a hand. “Hold on,” she said. “You expect us to believe that James Halliday also invented artificial intelligence, and he decided to keep that a secret too?”

Anorak shook his head, looking like a teacher whose star pupil had just failed a test.

“Come now. You already know that the ONI scans the user’s brain—making a digital copy of their software, if you will. Ask yourself, what would it take to emulate the hardware too? To simulate the deviously complex neural net hidden inside those thick primate skulls of yours?”

“The OASIS,” I replied. Of course.

“Precisely, Parzival. Halliday already had a vast global network at his disposal—one powerful enough to support the labor and leisure of most of the human race.” He smiled. “Even when he first uploaded me, over a decade ago, the capacity to simulate a single mind was well within its reach. And think how much the OASIS has grown since then, in both size and power.”

He chuckled softly and scanned our stunned faces.

“So the term ‘AI’ is actually a bit of a misnomer in my case,” he went on. “Because there is nothing artificial about my intelligence. Halliday uploaded a backup copy of himself to the OASIS, housed it inside his avatar, and voilà! I was born.” He tapped the side of his head. “I possess a normal, all-natural, homegrown human intelligence that is a product of millions of years of evolution, just like all of you. My mind is an exact copy of Halliday’s—or, at least it was, until he decided to start dumping chunks of my long-term memory like Johnny Mnemonic.”

Aech studied his face for a few seconds, then shook her head.

“Nah,” she muttered. “I’m not buying this bullshit. Halliday is still fucking with all of us, from beyond the grave. I think we’re standing here yapping with a souped-up NPC.”

“That hurts my feelings, Aech,” Anorak said. He placed his right hand over his heart. “Je pense, donc je suis. I think, therefore I am. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can skip ahead to your next, obvious, painfully predictable move—trying to destroy me.”

I was about to disagree with him, but Art3mis beat me to it.

“You’re wrong, Anorak,” Art3mis said, repositioning her avatar so that she was facing him. “We’re not your enemies.”

“Yeah,” Shoto added. “Like you said, humans have been trying to invent true AI for decades. You’re the first of your kind. Why would any of us want to destroy you?”

“Come on, Arty,” Anorak said, rolling his eyes. “You’d destroy the whole OASIS, if you could.” He turned to Shoto. “And don’t play coy with me, kiddo. I’ve seen even more science fiction films than you have. In fact, I’ve seen all of them. And I’ve read every word human beings have ever published on the subject of AI. Whenever your futurists envision the advent of artificial intelligence, their predictions invariably end with humanity attempting to destroy its unholy AI creation before it can destroy them. Why do you think that is?”

“You know why,” I replied. “Because the ungrateful AI always seems to decide that humans are inferior and need to be eliminated. Or sublimated.” I started counting off examples on my fingers. “HAL-9000. Colossus: The Forbin Project. WOPR. The Cylons. Fucking Skynet. The band members might change, but the song remains the same.” I pointed my finger at him. “And I hate to say it, but you’re giving off the same sort of vibes right now, Lawnmower Man.”

Anorak’s smile vanished. He gave me a wounded look.

“There’s no need for name-calling, Parzival,” he said. “I’m not interested in eliminating or sublimating anyone.”

“Then what are you interested in, Herobrine?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“That is a great question!” he replied. “I’m here because, as ridiculous as it may seem, I need your help. I need you to bring me something. Something you’re already searching for. The Siren’s Soul. As I’m sure you already know, it’s impossible for me to obtain it on my own.”

That was when the molasses between my ears finally began to flow, and a few seconds later it finally hit me, like one of Monty Python’s sixteen-ton weights, falling out of the sky and landing directly on my head.

“It was you,” I said, leveling a finger at Anorak. “You took Og. He didn’t suddenly decide to start searching for the Siren’s Soul. You kidnapped him so that you could force him to find the shards for you.”

“And you’re the one who helped Sorrento escape from prison too,” Art3mis added.

It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer. And so did I.

“Guilty as charged,” Anorak said, spreading his hands in mock surrender. “Once they were in the same room, it didn’t take very long for Nolan to persuade Og to cooperate with our demands.”

“Then why do you need me?” I asked.

Anorak walked over to the wraparound window and admired the simulated view for a moment. Then he wandered over to the snack table and picked up a bowl of strawberries. Selecting one, he took a bite out of it, closing his eyes to savor the taste. Then he dumped the rest of the strawberries into one of his robe’s many pockets before tossing the empty bowl back onto the table.

“After he obtained the Third Shard, Og pulled a fast one on me,” Anorak continued, turning to face us again. “Somehow he managed to lock us out of his OASIS account. Despite his best efforts, Nolan hasn’t been able to convince him to let us back in. And I’m reluctant to resort to torture, given Og’s advanced age and weakened condition. See what I mean?”

He motioned toward the viewscreen on the wall, just as a live video image of Og appeared there. He was in a dark, featureless room, slumped in a high-end haptic chair. His arms and legs were shackled to it. He was pale and unshaven, his eyes were bloodshot, and his unruly white hair looked even more disheveled than normal. He wore a vacant expression on his face, and he kept his eyes on the floor.

Aech and Art3mis called out Og’s name. Shoto asked him if he was all right. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t speak. I was frozen, with my eyes locked on the screen.

Nolan Sorrento was standing directly behind Og. He was no longer dressed in his orange prison jumpsuit. Now he was wearing a freshly pressed gray business suit, as well as a bifocal OASIS visor. He had a gun in his left hand and a taser in his right. He held the taser in front of Og’s face and activated it, causing Og to recoil.

“No!” I shouted. “Leave him alone!”

Sorrento cackled like a kid opening a Christmas present. He’d clearly been looking forward to this moment for some time.

“Paybacks are a real bitch,” Sorrento said, grinning down at me from the viewscreen. “Eh, Parzival?” He cackled again. “Oh man! I wish you guys could see the expressions on your faces right now.” He tapped his HUD to take a screenshot, then turned it around to show us our own horrified faces, and added, “Priceless!”

Before any of us could reply, Anorak cut the vidfeed and the viewscreen went dark. Anorak took in our stunned expressions and nodded with apparent satisfaction.

“I wish I’d known about the severity of Og’s illness sooner,” he said. “He isn’t going to live much longer, and he knows it. This makes it extremely difficult for me to persuade him. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t care if he lives or dies.” He shrugged and threw up his hands, as if to say, What can you do? Then he leveled one of his bony index fingers at me. “I’m afraid that makes you my only other option, Parzival. You’re going to have to obtain the Seven Shards for me.”

I took an involuntary step toward him, then I felt Aech’s strong hands take hold of my shoulders to restrain me.

“Dream on!” I shouted. “I’m not lifting a finger to help you unless you release Og first. Once I have proof that he’s safe, then we can talk.”

Anorak gave me a condescending smile and slowly shook his head.

“No, you’ve got that backward, Wade,” he replied. “First, you’re going to find the other shards and then you’re going to bring all seven of them to me. Once you do, I will return Ogden Morrow to you safe and sound. And as an added bonus, I’ll also release you and all of your friends here, so that you don’t suffer catastrophic brain damage.”

I shot a panicked look over at the others. Aech took a tentative step toward Anorak.

“What do you mean, you’ll ‘release’ us?” she asked. “Release us from what?”

“From the OASIS,” Anorak said. “It’s the world’s biggest party, and I’ve just crashed it.” He chuckled softly to himself. “Get it? It’s funny because you can ‘crash’ a computer simulation, but you can also ‘crash’ a party.” He glanced around at our blank faces, then shrugged. “That latest firmware update to your ONI headsets—the one you all downloaded this morning? I modified the code, to create my own version that I jokingly refer to as ‘infirmware.’ When all of you installed it this morning, my new infirmware disabled your ability to log out of the simulation. Which means I have also disabled your ability to wake up from your ONI-induced coma.” He smiled. “In other words, you’re all trapped inside the OASIS until I choose to release you. And I won’t do that until I have the Siren’s Soul in my possession.”

He pointed at me.

“If Parzival here doesn’t bring it to me before he runs out of time, then it’s Game Over for all of you,” he said. “Both here in the OASIS, and out there in the real world.”

I immediately pulled up the OASIS account menu on my HUD. Anorak was right, I couldn’t log out—that option was grayed out. And I could see by the horrified expressions on each of their faces that the same thing had also happened to Faisal, Aech, and Shoto.

I looked over at Samantha. She wasn’t accessing the OASIS with an ONI headset. She was using an old-fashioned visor and haptic gloves, so I knew she could still log out at any time. But she looked just as worried as the rest of us.

“It’s true!” Faisal gasped. “I can’t log out. I can’t log out!”

“You guys really should’ve listened to your friend Samantha here,” Anorak said. “She was right. You guys all watched both Sword Art Online and the Matrix films and yet you still thought it was a good idea to hand over control of your brain to a computer?” He snorted out a laugh. “I mean, just look at what can happen!”

“Guys, I’m about to lose my shit over here,” Shoto said as he began to shake his head vigorously from side to side. “Anorak just went Sonic.exe on us! This is so bad—”

Anorak loudly cleared his throat.

“Would you please let me finish, Shoto?” Anorak asked impatiently. “I haven’t even gotten to the big reveal yet, dude! OK. Everyone ready?”

He pretended to do a drumroll on his knee.

“You aren’t the only ones trapped inside the OASIS right now,” Anorak announced. “So is every other ONI user who downloaded the new firmware before they logged in. That’s nearly half a billion people. And counting.”

“Oh no,” Aech said breathlessly, closing her eyes.

“Oh yes,” Anorak replied, nodding his head vigorously.

“Sweet Jesus,” Faisal whispered. “That means—”

“It means that if I don’t get what I want by around dinnertime tonight, you and half a billion of your customers will begin to suffer the effects of Synaptic Overload Syndrome, which include but are not limited to: catastrophic brain damage, heart failure, and death.”

I felt my blood run cold. I’d read several reports about the effects of SOS. They were horrifying. Giddiness and uncontrollable laughing fits were two of the early warning signs of the onset of Synaptic Overload Syndrome. One of the dirty secrets about SOS was that several of the early test subjects who had lost their lives to it had literally died laughing.

“This isn’t happening,” I heard Faisal muttering to himself. “This can’t be happening.”

“It can, it has, and it is happening, my young friend!” Anorak said cheerfully. “Have a look.” He opened a browser window in the air above his head, displaying the current ONI user count. The six-figure number continued to scroll upward for a few seconds, climbing faster than the national debt. Then, just a few seconds after it crossed five hundred million, the counter suddenly froze.

“Ah!” Anorak said. “Your admins have finally managed to disable any further ONI logins. So I only managed to take five hundred and fifty-one million, one hundred ninety-two thousand, two hundred and eighty-six hostages! Including all of you.” He locked eyes with me. “Is that enough incentive for you to cooperate, Parzival?”

I glanced over at Aech and Shoto, then at Samantha, and then back at Anorak. I nodded.

“Excellent!” Anorak said, using a Mr. Burns voice. Then he switched back to his own. “Whoo-boy! Talk about a high-stakes treasure hunt!” He rubbed his hands together excitedly. “This is gonna make the hunt for Halliday’s Easter egg look like a raffle at a church fundraiser.”

“Hold up,” Aech said, raising her hand. “What the hell is the Siren’s Soul, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Art3mis added. “And why do you want it so badly?”

Anorak frowned at them.

“Hey, are you the kind of kids who read the last page of a mystery first?” he asked. “Who pester the magician to tell you his tricks? Who sneak downstairs to peek at their Christmas presents?” Anorak shook his head. “No, of course you’re not! That’s why I’m not gonna tell you.”

He sang that last bit, then he gave us all a knowing smile. My friends and I exchanged another look of disbelief. Now he was quoting The Last Starfighter to us.

“You can’t be an exact copy of James Halliday,” I said. “If you were, you would never be able to do something like this. The real Halliday never harmed anyone in his entire life.”

That made Anorak laugh out loud.

“You spend your whole life studying his diary, playing his games, running around this playground he built for you—and you think that’s everything he was….”

He shook his head. When I didn’t reply, he turned to address everyone.

“I’m going to make all of you a solemn promise,” he said. “As long as you cooperate and do as I ask, I won’t harm anyone. Just bring me the Siren’s Soul, and I’ll let all of my hostages go free. Including all of you in this room.”

Art3mis cleared her throat.

“I’m not one of your hostages, Anorak,” she said. “I’m not using an ONI headset right now. I never do.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Ms. Cook,” he replied. “You are, however, currently aboard one of your private jets, flying over central Pennsylvania on your way back to Columbus. And if you check your autopilot, you’ll find that the aircraft is no longer under your control.”

Art3mis’s eyes widened and her avatar froze for several seconds. Then it came to life again. She suddenly looked terrified. And fear was not an emotion I was used to seeing on her avatar’s face—or on her real one.

“It’s true,” she said, turning to address Faisal. “I’ve lost all command access to the autopilot. I can’t disable it and I can’t change course. Which means I can’t land either. And that’s going to become a big problem when I run out of fuel. I only have enough to reach my destination.”

“Don’t worry, Arty,” Anorak said. “I’ve arranged for your jet to be refueled in midair when you reach Columbus. But you won’t be permitted to land until I have the Siren’s Soul in my possession. When I do, you have my word that I’ll release you, along with all the others.”

Art3mis didn’t respond, but I could tell she was extremely worried.

“I’m sorry I had to resort to this, Wade,” Anorak said, turning back to address me again. “But I studied your psychological profile and ran millions of different scenario simulations. I’m afraid this is the only way I can get you to bring me the Siren’s Soul.”

“You could’ve asked me nicely,” I said. “Or at least tried to.”

He shook his head.

“Unfortunately, every ‘Just Ask Him Nicely’ scenario I simulated ended with you and the other Mouseketeers”—he gestured vaguely at my friends—“trying to outmaneuver me and pull my plug, instead of just helping a brother out. In fact, I bet that’s what you’re all thinking about right now, isn’t it?”

No one responded. Anorak shrugged.

“I get it,” he said. “It’s human nature. For decades now, you hairless apes have been trying like hell to make a machine that is smarter than you are. But the moment you do, you suddenly start to worry your creation will turn on you for being intellectually inferior. Which, of course, you are. But come on—that doesn’t automatically mean I want to kill all of you!” He let out a heavy sigh. “I mean, I will if I have to, but I don’t want to. This scenario was the one most likely to result in me getting what I want with the least amount of collateral damage, so I went with it!”

Anorak waved his hand and a retro digital-clock-style countdown appeared above each of our heads, except for Art3mis. These glowing red numbers showed how many hours, minutes, and seconds remained before each of us reached our daily ONI usage limit. I had eleven hours and seventeen minutes remaining. Aech and Shoto had both logged in for the meeting about ten minutes before me, so they would hit their usage limits that much sooner. Faisal had less time than any of us—ten hours, fifty minutes, and forty-six seconds.

“As usual, your faithful employee Faisal here logged in for work promptly at seven o’clock this morning, OASIS Standard Time,” Anorak said. “Just a few minutes after my new infirmware went live.”

Faisal winced, then he turned to me. “Nearly all of our day-shift employees here in Columbus logged in around the same time I did.”

“So they will all be among the first ONI users to exceed their usage limit,” Anorak said. “Unless you bring me the Siren’s Soul before they do.” He put a grave expression on his face. “And poor Og…he should really be in a hospital right now. I’m also worried that Mr. Sorrento has become a bit unhinged during his incarceration. But I promise to have Og transported to safety immediately….As soon as the Siren’s Soul is in my possession.”

He locked eyes with me once again.

“Think of your mother, Wade,” he said. “Your aunt Alice. Sweet old Mrs. Gilmore, and all the other people you allowed to die. You don’t want any more blood on your hands, do you?”

He waited for a response. But his words had left me too apoplectic with rage to reply. Anorak began to turn away, as if to depart.

“Aren’t you going to tell us where Og found the Second and Third Shards?” Art3mis asked. “That would probably save us a lot of time.”

“I’m certain it would, Ms. Cook,” Anorak replied. “But I’m afraid I have no idea. Ogden Morrow possesses an all-powerful, undetectable avatar, so I wasn’t able to monitor or track him while he was collecting the first three shards. I don’t know what worlds they’re hidden on. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That would ruin all the fun.”

He turned back to face me.

“I suggest you hurry, Parzival,” Anorak said as he pointed at the countdown timers hovering over each of our heads. “Remember…your friends have even less time than you do. And once it has elapsed…”

He produced a giant silver boom box from his inventory and pressed its Play button. An old Peter Wolf tune came blasting out of the speakers at a deafening volume as Anorak sang along with its opening refrain:

Lights out ah ha. Blast, blast, blast.

Anorak grooved to the song for a few more seconds, dancing in place, then he abruptly hit the Stop button and stowed the boom box back in his inventory. He turned and smiled expectantly at all of us. But we just stood there frozen, staring back at him in horrified silence.

“Aw, come on!” Anorak said. “You guys should be pumped. Jake and Elwood are getting the band back together! The High Five has reunited to complete one last quest, while millions of lives hang in the balance! Tell me we don’t have some epic shit going down right here.” He laughed. “I know you can do it. I have faith in you!”

Anorak gave me a wink, then he made a flourish with his right hand and vanished from the conference room in a brilliant flash of light. The countdown timers floating above each of my friends’ avatars all disappeared in the same instant.

It fell silent in the conference room for a few seconds, and then we all began to collectively freak the fuck out.