Player 1

Chapter 4 Level 1(2)
"No fucking thing!" She tried to snatch the notebook from my hand, but I wouldn't let it go.So she turned and ran back to her room.Knowing what was going to happen, I quickly locked the keypad and formatted the hard drive.

Aunt Alice soon returned with her boyfriend Rick, who was still half asleep.Rick never wears a top because he likes to show off those mob tattoos.He didn't say a word, just raised his fist at me threateningly.I handed over my laptop.Then he and his aunt left, discussing how much the computer would get back at the pawn shop.

The absence of this portable is not a big deal.I have two spares in the secret base.They don't have as high specs though, and I have to copy everything over from a spare drive.That takes a lot of time.But it's all my fault, I should have known the risks of bringing valuables here.

Dark blue morning light crept through the utility room windows.I think it might be better to go to school earlier today.

As quickly and as quietly as I can, I pull on my ripped corduroy pants, change into a baggy sweatshirt, pull on an oversized coat that fills nearly my entire closet, grab my backpack, and climb into the washing machine.After putting on my gloves, I closed the window, which was still covered with ice.In the chilly morning wind, I gazed at the undulating roofs of the prefabricated houses, thinking that they were like the rolling waves of the ocean.

There are a total of 22 prefabricated houses around, and the building where my aunt's house is located is the tallest, one or two floors higher than most of the surrounding buildings.Prefabricated houses do not have real foundations, they stand directly on the ground, or are built on the original concrete foundation. Over the past few years, under the reinforcement of scaffolding, they are still being covered in a disorderly manner, slowly extending to the sky.

We live on Portland Boulevard, which is like an old battered tin box, slowly rusting on the edge of Interstate No. 40.This is Oklahoma City's rotting downtown west, and the entire city is a mess of more than 500 stacked buildings, connected by recycled iron pipes, beams, steel truss brackets and pedestrian bridges .There are also a few old-fashioned cranes that have driven to the outskirts of the stacked buildings, constantly expanding the area of ​​the garbage dump.

The top floor, or "roof" of our house, is covered with a layer of battered solar panels that provide energy to the occupants below.There are also crumpled bundles of hoses entangled in each building, which serve as water and sewage pipes (some outer stacks do not enjoy this treatment).The sun barely reaches the bottom of the towers (what is called the ground), and the dark, narrow gaps between the towers are filled with abandoned cars and trucks with empty fuel tanks and roads long gone. is blocked.

My neighbor, Mr. Miller, once told me that the stacked buildings we live in used to be dozens of neatly arranged villas.But because of the oil shortage and the ensuing energy crisis, the large cities have been flooded with countless residents who have taken refuge from the surrounding suburbs and countryside, which has led to a large shortage of urban housing.In order to maximize the use of space, someone came up with this ingenious plan - according to Mr. Miller, called "the big garbage pile" - which is to use reinforced scaffolding to put all kinds of garbage that you can't imagine (you It can be seen that there are various RVs, containers or Volkswagen minibuses) piled up for people to live in on the floor.The idea quickly caught on, and housing complexes across the country quickly evolved into the stacks—a strange amalgam of slums and refugee camps.They now extend to the outskirts of every major city, and are populated by runaway country folk like my parents—those who fled their dying small-town hometowns for jobs, electricity, and a reliable network of oases, using their The last gasoline (or riding their livestock), dragged their families and migrated to the nearest big city.

Every building in our area is at least fifteen stories high.In recent years, many of these stacks have grown to twenty stories or more.It's stressful.Because stacked buildings collapse is nothing new, and if the support columns are tilted, the domino effect will cause four or five surrounding stacked buildings to also end.

Our prefabricated house is located on the north edge of the stacked building, next to a broken viaduct.Looking down condescendingly from the utility window, you can see the trams crawling across the cracked asphalt, bringing goods and workers into the city.In the cold sky, a ray of sunshine is climbing the horizon.I have this habit of reminding myself whenever I see the sun that it is just a star.There are trillions of such stars in the universe, and the sun is just a small and inconspicuous one among them.This allows me to think about things from a different angle.And this way of thinking is also thanks to a popular science film called "Universe" [80] in the 10s.

I slipped out of the window as quietly as possible, grabbed the lower edge of the window, and climbed down the cold outer wall.The metal platform where the mobile room is located is a little larger than the room body, and there is only one foot at the edge.I carefully descended, and finally stood on the edge of the platform. Then, I reached out to close the window, wrapped the rope I had prepared around my waist, and slowly moved towards the corner of the platform.There was a large scaffolding frame in the shape of a ladder, which was the route I used to get in and out of my aunt's house.If I wanted to, I could take the main staircase, which descended along the edge of the stack, but the stair's legs were loose, and it always hit the scaffolding with a rattling sound, which was equivalent to telling people that I was coming.It's not good, you'd better not be heard or seen in the stacks, because at any given time, there are always gangs or cornered robbers gathering - they may rob you, sodomize You, you ended up selling your organs on the black market.

Climbing metal frames always reminds me of old games like Donkey Kong or Burger Time.The idea came a few years ago, when I made my first independent game for the Atari 2600 (a milestone in my career as a hunter, no less than a Jedi making his first lightsaber).I called the game "Stack," and you had to traverse a vertical maze of prefab-style houses, collecting scrap computers, food stamps, and dodging junkies and pedophiles along the way.This game is much more interesting than reality.

I pulled up outside the trailer three floors below where Ms. Gilmore lived.She was a lovely old lady in her seventies who always went to bed early and rose early.I looked out the window and saw her busy preparing breakfast in the kitchen.She spotted me too: "Good morning, baby."

"Good morning, Grandma Ji," I said, "Isn't that frightening you?"

"No, no," she shook her head and pulled the rope to open the window. "It's freezing outside! Why don't you come in and have breakfast? I still have a few pieces of barbecue meat with sauce. These egg powders are not bad. If you put Enough salt..."

"Thanks, but I don't have time this morning, Mrs. Ji. I have to go to school."

"Okay, come back later." She kissed me and started to close the window. "Don't hurt your neck when you climb down, Spider-Man."

"Well. Goodbye, Granny Ji." I waved my hand and continued on my way.

Ms. Gilmore is a super sweetheart.She'd even let me sleep at her place, even though those rambunctious cats were always a distraction.Grandma Ji is a devout believer, and she spends most of her time in one of the online cathedrals in "Oasis", singing hymns, listening to sermons, or visiting simulated holy places.I helped fix her old Oasis console a few times, and in return she would answer my countless questions about the 80s she lived in.She knew every little thing about that era—details you don't see in movies and books.She also always prayed for me, hoping that my soul would be saved.I never told her I thought religion was just a pile of garbage.Because it's this beautiful fantasy that gives her hope and the drive to survive -- as much as this game means to me.To use a sentence in the yearbook: People who live in glass houses should keep their mouths shut.

Mere feet from the ground, I jumped off the scaffolding and my rubber boots sank into the dirty water and frozen mud.The sun has not yet reached here, and the surrounding area is still dark.I headed east, the flashlight turned on to light the way ahead.I looked around cautiously along the way, reminding myself not to miss any store bins, old engines, or scraps in the crevices between stacked buildings.

It's still early, and my whereabouts should not be discovered by others.Of course, there are many people who get up earlier than me, but they are basically households who have found jobs, and most of them are hourly workers in large factories around the city.These people should be gathering at the station next to the road at the moment, after all, the commuter bus only runs a few times a day.

After walking for almost a mile, I came to a strange mountain.In order to free up more space for building buildings, people piled up all the waste cars in this city as much as possible decades ago.The height of many car piles can even catch up with stacked buildings.

I walked to the side of the hill, looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching or following me, and then passed through the gap between two abandoned cars.I dodged, climbed, sideways into the wobbly mountain of steel, and finally came to a van.Compared with other places, it looks more open here.Only one-third of the van was exposed; the rest was covered by cars piled on top.Two heavy-duty trucks were crooked across the roof of the truck like beams, but the load was carried by other vehicles or stacks on the side, so the truck was not crushed by them.

I took off the necklace around my neck, on which hung a key.As luck would have it, the van was found with its keys still attached to the door.Many cars are not damaged when they are abandoned, but their owners cannot afford the fuel to keep using them.

I put the light back in my pocket and opened the right door of the van.The deformed car door can only be opened a foot and a half, just enough for me to squeeze in.After entering the car, I closed and locked the door again.There were no windows in the car, so I fumbled for a second in the pitch-black darkness before I reached the power switch wired overhead.After pressing it, the dim light of the old desk lamp came on, illuminating the limited area around it.

A barely recognizable green sedan crushed the windshield but did not hurt the cab.The rest of the van's interior was intact.Someone removed all the seats in the car (probably used as furniture), leaving a small "room" about four feet high and nine feet long.

This is my secret room.

I groped my way here four years ago during a hunt for discarded computer parts.The first time I opened the car door and looked into the darkness of the car, I knew I'd found one of the most precious treasures: privacy.This is a place where no one knows. Here, I don't have to worry about being threatened and abused by my aunt and her trash boyfriend.I can put things here without worrying about being stolen.And, most importantly, I can safely enter The Oasis here.

This is my sanctuary, my batcave, my fortress of solitude[11].This is where I study, do my homework, read, watch movies, and of course, play games.This is where I think and look for halliday eggs.

To keep the sound from leaking out, I've covered the entire car with shattered carpet and styrofoam that used to hold eggs.A few broken packing boxes of notebooks were left in the corner, next to the old car battery and spinning bicycle [12] connected together, which was a simple charger I made.The only furniture in the room was a folding lawn chair.

I drop my backpack, shake off my coat, and pedal my bike.Recharging the battery is usually the only way I work out.I kept pedaling until the LCD screen showed that the battery was full, and then I fell back on the chair and turned on the small electric heater switch.After taking off my gloves, I rubbed my hands together in front of the electric heater's glowing orange filament.It's a pity that this thing can't be turned on for too long, otherwise it will consume all the power.

I opened my little pantry—an iron box designed to keep rats out—and poured the formula into a bowl, rinsed it with water, and added a handful of oatmeal.After a bit of gobbling, I went to the van's dashboard and pulled out the old plastic lunch box I had hidden.Under the lid of the box with the Star Trek logo, there are Oasis hosts, tactile gloves and masks uniformly distributed by the school.To me, they are priceless treasures, and I should never risk taking them to my aunt's house.

After putting on the elastic haptic glove, I flexed my fingers to make sure the glove was ok, and picked up the Oasis console.It's a flat black triangle, about the size of a paperback book, with an antenna on it.Of course, since it was now buried under a mountain of steel, the signal was predictable.Fortunately, I have already modified an antenna and placed it on the top of the car mountain.The antenna cable ran down into a small hole in the roof of the van, and I connected it to the console's port, then closed the mask.It fits snugly over my eyes like swimming goggles, blocking outside light.Small earphones unfurl from the sides of the mask and automatically reach into my ears.There are also two stereo microphones on the inside of the mask, which can record everything I say.

I boot up and log into the game.I saw a faint red light from the mask, sweeping across the retina.I cleared my throat, and read out the login password in a low voice and clearly: "You have been recruited by the Star Alliance to go to the front line to fight against the fleet of Sk and Gordan."[13]
The password is correct, the sound is verified, and the game is successfully logged in.

Then a paragraph of text appeared, attached to the center of the field of vision:
Account verification successful.

Welcome to the Oasis, Parsifal!
Log in time:

07:53:21OST (Oasissystemtime) - 2.10.2045
This text fades away and is replaced by another text.They are only six words, and they were set by James Halliday himself in the login program when he designed the first version of "Oasis". They are a tribute to the pioneers of the different world-the arcade game designers when he was a child.These five words are the last thing users of Oasis see before they leave reality and enter the virtual world:
Player 1 is ready

0002
I feel like I am slowly gaining substance and my surroundings are becoming clearer.This is the storage room on the second floor of the university, where I logged off last night.

I glanced across the hall, and everything I could see looked almost (but not quite) real. Everything in Oasis is perfectly modeled in [-]D.Unless you stop and look around intently, it's easy to forget that what you're seeing is really just computer data.This is still the effect of the school version host.I heard that if you can buy a new version of the top high-end console, the difference between "Oasis" and reality can be almost completely eliminated.

I touched my cabinet and it popped open with a crisp metal click.There are not many decorations in it, just a few: a picture of Princess Leia holding a light gun, a poster of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and a James Halliday cover photo of Time magazine.There are a few textbooks on top of the cabinet, and with a single touch they disappear into my inventory.

Besides the textbook, my character possesses only a few other things: a torch, an iron sword, a bronze shield, and leather armor.It's not magic equipment, it's poor quality, but it's about the best I can wear. Things in Oasis are just as expensive (and sometimes more expensive) than they are in real life, and they can't be bought with food stamps.The only currency in this world is the oasis point. In the dark age, it became one of the most stable currencies in the world, even more reliable than the dollar, pound, euro, and yen.

(End of this chapter)