I am GoD connecting

By Edward Holden

GoD is hell-bent on bringing about the ‘End of the World’, but his life is about to change; he teams up with Evil to complete his mission, and his goal happens to be the same as that of Evil! If the future is such a chaotic world, what will become of us humankind? The story is set in the future when the world, as you know it today, no longer exists. Humanity has destroyed the planet almost to annihilation. Mother Nature has become an ugly shadow of its former self – the air is toxic, electrical storms hit without warnings, and animals have mutated. Humans have resorted to staying inside their homes, or living cubes, made habitable by artificial means, while everyone frowns upon venturing outside and physically touching others. As humans are social animals, they have to look for ways to safely connect to other people. Advanced technology helps through the six nets, and the only socializing there is happens online in the virtual world. But even there – the world created by the descendants of those who had destroyed nature in the first place – not much has changed; people kill each other, act obscenely, and indulge in every twisted fantasy they have. George is a participant in one such world – the game called The Creation. And he enjoys every bit of it. In reality, he is just a far-from-perfect, overweight, snotty-nosed kid who lives alone with his widower father. But, he is GoD – an Olympus warrior, a skilled tactician and killing-machine who destroys his opponents with no remorse in The Creation. He is a lonely nobody with no friends in one world, but a perfect specimen of a human being who instills fear in others by dealing quick, merciless death in the other. He spends endless hours lying on his gaming bed and whines about his father’s outdated car in the real world; but in The Creation, he reigns, along with big names like Ng Mui, Boudicca, Gráinne Mhaol, and The Spoiler! After fleeing from Spoiler and forced to commit suicide, GoD ends up with Evil. His avatar life takes unexpected turns as, ironically, GoD and Evil team up to bring about the ‘End of the World.’ After he kills a fan who stalks him in the game just to meet him and for at least a chance to die in his arms, he gets a jolt of reality. The science fiction fantasy novel presents a terror-inducing glimpse into the future – what the world is bound to become as a result of humanity’s mindless exploitation. And you will realize that though we fear that world, we all contribute to its creation. You will discover the beauty, though, when you read about the subtle hints at the true human nature that, deep down, is always filled with love, compassion, and care for others. Take a look inside, and find out all these amidst the exciting action, suspense, and thriller of GoD’s adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Holden
• Release date: Jul 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005538972

Edward Holden

I suppose you want to know something about me, but there isn't really much to tell - I've lived a full life, with all kinds of people from all social levels and enjoyed them all. Never a dull moment. Does this inspire my writing? I guess it must, as my life has made me who I am - and although life has been cruel and unkind at times, I still try not to be.The first books I wrote were designed to show the nicer side of life - now, well, I write both sides and although at times I do not actually enjoy writing about certain characters - they also have a right to be presented in the best possible light, even dark light.The best way to actually get to know me, is to ask me something. I'm easy to find, and will answer any of your questions - if they are decent, naturally. But enough of that. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Book preview

EH Books

Published by EH group, Austria

First published in this Edition 2019

6

Text copyright 2009

All rights reserved

Other books written by Edward Holden

The Fairest of Them All

Ember

Three Shoes in a Pair

The Whole Half

I am GoD: Revelations

The author would like to thank the following people:

Angela Kennedy

For her never ending patience in her proof reading

Johnny Sailo

For his proof reading

Tansom Studios

For the cover artwork

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any

means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or

otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

This book is dedicated to my children:

I love you always...

Chapter One

The Game

The TiG22 moved into alignment. It hovered like a boat moored on an ebbing tide, as its internal processor waited for confirmation to allow the exchange of electromagnetic conductive fields. Only after its motor number had been registered and certified did the government-controlled Payways hand over the magnetic control to one of the many private household-parking services. It was a complicated procedure, but had to be, for in the past, there had been too many lawsuits concerning identity theft and over-charging. In the end, the leading corporate bodies had agreed on a fixed amount. Now, electromagnetic parking costs depended solely on the weight of the vehicle plus that of the registered owner. Extra weight meant extra charges. This, however, did not automatically mean that every trip to the local store had added costs, or that every friend who visited was a financial burden. The energy companies had several appropriate reimbursement plans on how both money and energy could be saved, designed to suit each household. By correctly using the legally recognized channels, such as product waste management or logistically approved evaluation packages (where such things as monthly docking fees, or family nutrition plans, were included), every vehicle owner could cut costs by at least thirty percent, forty if they signed up for a company drone delivery service.

***

George felt the sudden loss of power caused by the TiG22. His iNeck and iEye reaction time dropped, accordingly.

F….! Not now! He cussed, as his dad’s car, a recognized classic, a collector’s item, a once upon a time breakthrough in design – went into docking mode. It was a perfect example of what modern transport should not be. The TiG22 was a multi-thorium-based automobile built before the invention of magnetic streaming. Today, its only real value was as a historical item; everything else about it was an environmental disaster, since its original, financial and economic advantages soon lost value as the huge costs of recycling the thorium had grown, quickly making this classic car a thing of the past.

Like an alarm clock ringing when you are asleep, George could clearly hear the short, repetitive tone the TiG22 made as it moved slowly over the landing plate. It needed almost a minute to park: Jurassic! The tone was designed to inform any passengers that the vehicle was still magnetically connected to the government-run Payway, and any premature attempt to leave the vehicle would be dangerous. Such behavior was automatically recorded, as legally required, and sent to the appropriate authorities, who, upon receiving the data, made any necessary amendments to monthly insurance fees and bonuses. The tone also told George he had less than thirty seconds before his gaming link would be broken.

George basically lived online. He was a professional ‘player’. He needed 24/7, 60/60 connection at the highest speed and the greatest capacity. Any kind of power failure cost him both money and sometimes a cyber-life. Officially, being seventeen, he was not allowed to gamble, but there was always a way around the system, and it hadn’t taken George long to find one. It had been simple, too. All he had to do was give all profits to charity, and as most charities were in a very gray financial area, it was easy to fulfill this requirement without getting into trouble. All he had to do was make sure all the money he won was reinvested. Only what was left over had to be donated. And that was never a problem. He had the latest apps, tools, and gadgets, none of which were cheap. The only thing he could not update or change was his dad’s TiG22.

The peeping alarm clock sound grew louder.

When the TiG22 was first built, the company boasted of its breakthrough, minimal shutdown time of less than one-tenth of a second! Today, ST was counted in nanoseconds, and every home-cell device had a built-in backup method, designed to counteract such mainframe dysfunctions. Start and Park always drained the system. There was always a power failure. It was just too short to notice. You only noticed it if you were in conference or online at virtual high-speed. Even this was resolved automatically. Today, noticeable, habitual shutdowns were a thing of the past, anti-magnetic seizure parking probes had been developed, and what had once only been affordable by the rich and famous had become standard.

But that hadn’t stopped George’s dad from getting a TiG22, which was really odd, considering his dad was an environmentalist, a founder of CleanSkies. He was a CloudBuster; it was his job to find and locate the eye of all gathering electric storms, and then to inform the relative energy companies who would go and ‘vamp’ it, making the company the greatest profit and himself his commission. Vamping was the Net’s expression for air fractionation. What had once been a government-supported idea was now a highly lucrative and competitive market; the company that ruled the sky ruled humanity. Therefore, a good CloudBuster was worth his weight in e-Terra.

George knew he was going to have to disconnect.

He could almost feel the family home-cell’s electric power support system draining as the TiG22 began to crossover from the city track-line to private. He had experienced this sensation so many times before. Once, he’d asked his dad to buy a new car, or at least upgrade it; it had been pointless. His dad simply replied that the car worked, and it was an ‘old-timer,’ like himself. It felt good. That was another strange thing about George’s dad; everything about him reflected his inability to adapt, not only his choice of transport but also his social and environmental behavior. He was a ‘feelings’ person; a ‘Toucher’ a ‘contact junky,’ someone who seemed to need physical communication, no matter what. He had failed to move on and out of the early-digital age where people had communicated in a more primeval fashion, onto pure thought. Even though it was frowned upon, and publicly denounced by the GHO, the Global Health Organization, he still physically shook hands with people, which George not only found repulsive, but considered totally irresponsible, knowing the high number of bacteria that was transmitted by such conduct, not to mention the numerous possibilities of becoming infected. Because of such behavior, his dad was a registered ‘level eight’ health-risk patient. George was certain that if he would just stop shaking hands with people, his premium would reduce by half, and he could save money. However, for some bizarre reason, his father refused to do this, no matter how shocked people were when he took them by the hand.

The few friends he had, and those who dared to visit, all came wearing gloves.

It was so embarrassing.

F…! he cussed again.

He really could have done without having to disconnect right now.

***

The programmers had thought of everything. Being offline did not stop the game. It carried on; only there was a strange time difference that didn’t matter at the lower levels, as players never stayed longer than a few hours. It was when you were in the game for weeks and then left, did it get to be crucial. One minute offline forwarded the game by an hour. One hour was two and a half days. A whole day was two months. Leaving the game had to be carefully planned. Leaving the game without thinking would leave his avatar vulnerable and totally unprotected. Anything could happen. A forced disconnection at game level one, what most players referred to as the ‘Pit’ was guaranteed deadly. Fortunately, George was on level five. Only outstanding players managed to get that far, which meant there were fewer players nearby, and hence, a lesser threat to being run-through. This did not mean he was safe. The game provided other challenges, other ways to be killed. Knowing all of this, he let his mentally-projected self and avatar look around to make sure he was alone.

On the horizon, something moved.

Instinctively, he threw himself down, lying as flat as he possibly could, his avatar heart beating in his eardrums. He hoped he had not been seen. Not now, not just before a cut-off. Parting the tundra in front of him, he watched as the something formed; it grew in size; it became human-shaped, and it was heading right for him. This was bad news. It meant any kind of disconnection right now would spell his death. He knew if he didn’t do something fast, the next time he reconnected, he would more than likely find himself back in the Pit.

He looked again at the approaching figure.

His curiosity made him wait to see who it was. He wished he hadn’t. The growing silhouette belonged to none other than Spoiler¹, the avatar of destruction. His was the last thing most players ever saw before dissipating out of the game. Spoiler was a cyberworld nut job. He came, he saw, he killed. It was as simple as that. He was famous for it, and therefore very rich. Killing another player earned you money. Spoiler had apparently killed hundreds. The net was filled with stories of his slaughter and victories. Some game-player chat rooms claimed he was not really a player, but a part of the program designed to stop most players, as no one had ever managed to kill him and apparently, he appeared on every level. But George didn’t have time to worry about this. Bot or real, he was in trouble. Spoiler was the last player he wanted to face, ever. Now, before a power-drop, was suicidal. He moved back to the cliff edge - the cliff he had just climbed. He had climbed it, thinking it would not only give him a better view of the surrounding area, but it would also give him time to think, time to work out where the next door was.

***

Basically, the point of each level was to find the door and go through it, without being killed. It sounded simple, but each new level had new terrain and new challenges. The point of the whole game was to get to level ten and turn the game off, thus winning. Also very simple. Early versions of the game, known then as Armageddon, had given players superpowers and indestructible bodies, and it had been fun… for a while. But fun was always so short-lived. People wanted long-term pleasure. People wanted the next great kick, and so Creation had been written along with its challenge, the End of The World.

Its debut had been a total flop. No one had wanted to play it. It was so boring. There were no monsters. No multi-cannoned robots that shot everything. It was as boring as real life. So, it became addictive. In Creation, you were limited to normal human powers. Creation became geek heaven. Every nerd, every snotty-nosed kid, every under or overweight child that had ever been made fun of, laughed at, or picked on, latched on to it. Here their minds ruled, and all the deep-down hatred, which had been nurtured for years from all the torment, finally found release. Here, the nerds ruled. For here, the only thing you had was your mind. The more you played, the better you got at it. The better you got at it, the more it showed with your avatar.

Spoiler’s avatar looked like something from one of the ancient cartoon comics he had seen on a virtual visit to the London Museum before paper had been totally banned - a superhero. This superhero, however, was far from being a nice guy, he was out to destroy and the mind that controlled it was a fast-thinking, calculating, super-thug.

***

He looked again at the avatar Spoiler; it was moving fast and right for him.

F…k! George cussed yet again.

He turned back towards the cliff edge. Down below, to the right, there was a stream: an icy, mountain stream carving its way forward, in a mass of white water and spray. He had to make a decision; Spoiler would be on him soon. He looked again at the stream. It was a long way down. A very long way. He was certain the impact alone would kill him. To jump would be foolish, but what was the alternative? Stay and fight? No one survived Spoiler. If he stayed, he’d be killed… He seriously could not afford to die right now. Not at this level; he had worked too hard to get there.

***

Like all games, Creation had been designed to make money, and it did, lots of it. In the beginning, of course, to get people to play, entrance had been for