Olympus: It's Not Just a Game

Chapter 43

"I hate bugs!" Mr. Morrison cursed to himself, as he drove his expensive foreign car at high speeds along the winding road that led to Salmon Falls. The New Hampshire woods were infested with mosquitoes, and he never made the trip to CyberCamp without picking up his quota of squashed insects.

He had more on his mind than mosquitoes, though. This whole situation with the boy, Karl, was becoming critical. They had processed a lot of runaways, but this was the first time a family had managed to regain contact with one of the kids. His censor program was designed to filter out the more obvious cries for help, like, "I'm being held captive at CyberCamp!" There was no way that any artificial intelligence program—even his—could block out every possible way that Karl could communicate his problem. So far Karl had been remarkably cooperative – he didn't want to quit playing as long as he thought he could win. But eventually, even an egotistical dunce like Karl had to catch on that he was trapped. Something more drastic must be done.

The concrete buildings and razor wire of the U-Store-It franchise came into view, and Ray hit the brakes. He pulled up to CyberCamp and burst through the glass and chrome doors. "Where's Sparrow?" he snapped at the receptionist.

She looked up, surprised. "What a day!" she squeaked. "First the police, now you."

"Police?" Mr. Morrison exploded. "Why were they here?"

"They served a search warrant," Ms. Sparrow said, in a voice that was cold enough to freeze the blood in Morrison's veins. "A search warrant for one Karl Huber."

Morrison's spun around to face her. "How did they know to look here?" he yelled.

"The very question I had intended to ask you," she snarled. "You were supposed to prevent this, remember?"

Morrison's mind was racing. He could have sworn that Sheila was clueless, and that tall dark foreigner was no better. How could they have found their way here? For a moment, he wondered if his son had somehow figured it out, but he shook his head. Sure, he was smart, but he was only a boy!

"Did they find them?" Mr. Morrison asked, bluntly.

"If they had, do you think we would still be here?" Sparrow reported. "No, they didn't, no thanks to you."

"What'll we do?" Morrison gulped.

"They won't be back," the attorney sniffed. "You may be incompetent in your field, but my techniques work. Karl's father, Mr. Huber, is in jail right now for criminal child abuse."

Morrison relaxed slightly. "In jail?" As much as he despised Sparrow personally, he truly feared her abilities. "How did you do that?"

"You don't need to know," she replied. "But it is now more important than ever that Karl not communicate where he is to anyone else within the game. How secure is your censor program?"

Morrison paled. "The program is as good as modern technology can be," he replied cautiously, "but I think we need to take more decisive steps."

"What did you have in mind?"

The programmer looked sideways at the receptionist. "Can we go to your office? This may take a while."

Sparrow caught his glance. "No, we can talk in front of June, here."

"I think we need to put Karl out of the game—permanently."