SUNGLASSES
Written by A.S.Q.
Smiley #936 was afraid. Very afraid. He had known he was doomed the moment his arch enemy, Smiley #792, got the sunglasses and with it the temporary authority to decide who would be next to play. To die. For that was probably what would happen to any Smiley who entered the formidable tiled room. Recently, the Minesweeper had been playing only the expert level, after vowing to accomplish it if that was the last thing she did.
Vividly, #936 remembered the day when #792 came to power. They had been young Smileys then, fresh out of The Smiley School. Those were the good ol� days, when the Minesweeper had been content enough playing the beginner and intermediate level. And it was then that #792 was called out to play by the then sunglass wearer, the venerable #316.
It was an intermediate level game, known by the Smileys to be possibly the easiest level of all, contrary to what many believed. True, the beginner level had only ten mines, but the fact was that the playing field was smaller also meant that much of the success of the game depended on luck, rather than actual skill. The expert level, though, did not differ very much from the beginner one in that just as much, or probably even more, of the game�s success depended on luck. The Minesweeper could be an excellent player, but even then fail the level due to the simple fact that there was just not enough information. He or she could be safe on the first click, which most of the time unearthed just one number, and on the second click hit a mine. The Smileys knew this... and quaked in fear whenever an expert level game was announced.
#792, however, had got the intermediate level, where skill was the most important factor. And the Minesweeper had skill. The game had been a success, and #792 had got the sunglasses.
Later that day, he had strutted out of the waiting room greeted with loud applause, and had made his way to the top of The Smiley Castle where he took the throne, shades visible on his smiling face. #936, the new king�s school rival, had been called up and had a few words delivered to him, which would stay forever etched in his memory...
"You were always the �good� student, #936. Never missed a class, loved by all the teachers, had the best smile, etc etc etc. But now you see that all that hard work has come to nothing. You could have spent your time enjoying yourself, you know, as I did. And look at me now, one of the youngest kings ever to rule the Smileys. To decide their fate, just as I will decide yours. Use your time well, #936. You might not have much left. Not when I�m done with you, that is. I will have my revenge for all those years in school where you beat me, made me look dumb with your towering high marks and that stupid smile of yours which everyone seems to like. Oh yes, I will have my revenge. What say you I slot you in for... the next expert level game, hey?"
And #792 had laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that caused #936 to shiver in fear, in fear of the game that he knew would come someday to sound his doom. The day he was certain to die.
And that day had come, a little too soon for his liking.
Trying to remain calm, #936 stood in line awaiting his turn. Awaiting his death. He watched as his fellow Smileys, many of whom had gone to school with him, went into the room and were killed, one after the other by the Minesweeper. Smiley #174 had gone in five clicks. #219 in twenty-three. And as for poor #612, he was done away with just after the second click.
#792, however, king of the Smileys, was laughing. Laughing as he killed off his friends. Laughing at the fact that he was in control. That laughter reverberated through the whole of Smiley land, all the way to where #936 was waiting. He heard the laughter, and felt anger rising within himself, culminating with the eternal question...
"Why?" he managed to blurt out, voice choked with fury.
#841 turned, his best friend at The Smiley School.
"What?"
"Why do we have to do this?" #936 wanted to know. "Why do we have to go so willingly to our death? Why does #792 get to decide when our lives will end?"
"Because he�s king," #841 replied matter-of-factly. The other Smileys murmured their agreement.
"Yes, but how did he become the king? It was all luck! And because of luck he gets to control when we die? And what about the Minesweeper, huh? What gave her the right to kill us?"
The room buzzed with sudden noise. No one was allowed to talk about the Minesweeper that way. It was unheard of! Especially when it came to a youngster like #936.
#841 sighed.
"The Minesweeper has her job, and we Smileys have our job. Her job is to kill us for entertainment, and our job is to be killed."
#936 was shaking with a silent anger.
"It�s not fair. It�s just not fair!"
"Nothing is. So bear with it. It�ll be over before you know it."
"I�ll be dead," #936 muttered, his usual smile gone from his yellow face.
"Big deal. We all die someday. The Minesweeper will too, one day."
#841 stared wistfully into space, pondering over his last few words.
"And when that happens... we�ll be free," he continued. "All of us. No longer slaves to the Minesweeper." #841 paused, continuing in a whisper. "Wouldn�t that be wonderful?"
The other Smileys remained silent, not daring to agree for fear of what the consequences might be.
"Not if we�re dead," #936 replied, in a somewhat softer tone as compared to previously.
"Even if we don�t make it, there will always be others. Other generations of Smileys. And one day, somehow, we�ll be free. I know it. One day the Minesweeper will be gone. And we will be fr..."
The voice of #792 boomed out suddenly, interrupting the Smiley.
"#841! You�re next. Get going."
"We will be free," #841 finished, before turning his gaze slowly around the room, eyes filled with hope as he addressed them all for the last time.
"Never give up. We will make it... someday."
And then he turned, and left for The Room.
They all knew it was going to happen. It was inevitable, after all.
And yet, when the mines blew up, killing his friend, Smiley #936 was unable to control the tears running down his once happy face.
Nevertheless, there was no time for mourning.
"#936! Get ready. You�re next."
It was his turn. This was it. Smiley #936 glanced around at his friends for what would probably be the last time, took a deep breath, and then stepped out onto the platform which teleported him instantly to The Room. he evaporated his tears, trying to maintain his composure as he started smiling as he had been taught to do since his creation. Behind his smiles, though, #936 was feeling miserable. But no one would ever be able to tell, not by the bright smile that hung across his face at least.
Then, Smiley #936 got ready to play The Game. The sole reason for his creation. The whole point of his existence.
One click. Safe.
Two clicks. Safe.
Three clicks. Still safe.
At each click, #936 opened his mouth wide in anticipation of his oncoming doom, then closed it again and smiled his fake smile. And that was not the only reason for opening his mouth in the first place.
"Nice and wide," he kept reminding himself. "Aim for a perfect, round circle."
All those years of advice at The Smiley School were being put into play once more, only this time it wasn�t teachers that #936 was facing. #792 was right about one thing. #936 had been a good student.
Click after click, and still no mines were unearthed. The Room was dotted with red flags and numbers, and for once Smiley #936 was beginning to have a faint glimmer of hope. Perhaps he might make it after all...
There were now only ten tiles left which had not yet been clicked on. Nine. Eight. Seven. Then it was down to only two tiles. One held the mine, the other did not. It was that simple... that simple and yet not.
The Minesweeper had never been this close before. Whether she chose the right tile or wrong one was a matter of life and death... for Smiley #936, that is.
And yet, the numbers surrounding the remaining two tiles made it impossible to determine which was the right one. Now, it was back to the usual expert level scenario... it all depended on luck.
Smiley #936 waited. He was in no hurry to die. If the Minesweeper lost, that was the end of him. But if she won... he would get the sunglasses. He could have revenge... for there could only be one sunglass wearer at any one time. In other words, he would be able to do anything he wanted with #792. The death of his friends had to be avenged. He would send #792 to the next expert level game. He would have his revenge...
Meanwhile, as he watched the unfolding drama below, Smiley #792 was feeling afraid. Very afraid. Never before in his wildest dreams had he expected the Minesweeper to get so close to winning, and especially not during #936�s game. What was more, he had grown kind of partial towards his sunglasses. He did not ever want to part with them...
The Minesweeper decided that waiting would not help at all. Positioning The Clicker over one of the two tiles, she closed her eyes tight... and clicked.
"Revenge," thought Smiley #936. "I could have revenge..."
He heard a click.
Then everything went black.
Slowly, Smiley #936 opened his eyes. He was lying down somewhere... on something soft...
"Where am I?" he asked, rolling himself up for a better view.
Around him, three red flags stepped back and bowed. "The Smiley Castle, your Majesty," one replied.
#936 blinked, taken aback by the salutation. "What?"
"You won the game. You got the sunglasses. You�re our king now."
He�d won... he�d actually won...
"Uh" you can just call me �sir�," he said, not too comfortable with anything more.
"Right. They�re waiting for you, sir. The Minesweeper wants to start a new game; Intermediate level. You�ve got to choose who�s going to play next," Flag #2579 continued. "Here... you dropped your sunglasses." The flag passed them to #936, and he put them on, head spinning as he tried to take it all in.
He�d actually won... For the first time ever, an Expert level game had been finished...
"This way, sir."
#936 beamed with happiness and bounced out to the control room after the flag. Down below, he saw his fellow Smileys look back up expectantly. And he saw #792 sulking among them, his face one of restrained fury. #936 wondered what it must feel like, to have your powerful position so suddenly taken away from you like that to be made one of the common crowds whose life you used to be able to control.
"#792!" he yelled in triumph. "You�re next!"
Down there, #792 scowled and scuffled his round body over to the teleporting pad that transported him to The Room. Once there, he reluctantly wiped his scowl off his face, replacing it with a huge, fake smile. #936 grinned. He would have his revenge... finally, he could have his revenge...
The Minesweeper started; and Smiley #936 watched with bated breath as one click followed the next, none hitting the mine. Gradually, he began to get worried. What if #792 survived this? After all, it WAS an Intermediate level game...
Click.
And a mine blew up, putting an end to #792.
#936 whooped in joy, bouncing up and down in the control room. The rest of the Smileys celebrated along with him... none had ever liked #792... and the sound of cheers filled the computer. The Smiley King smiled in satisfaction and closed his eyes, basking in their appreciation of his choice.
That is, until a small but persistent voice brought him out of his reverie. "#936?"
He fell out of his seat, startled. Flag #2579 was there again. "What?"
They�re waiting for you, sir. You�ve got to choose who�s going next."
#936�s joy suddenly evaporated as the full force of the flag�s words hit, the realisation of what he had to do cutting deep into his heart.
"Next..." was all he managed to say.
The crowd of Smileys looked back up, waiting.
His friends.
Waiting for him to decide who would be next to play. To die. For that was most probably what would happen to any Smiley who entered the formidable tiled room.
"They�re waiting, sir."
#936 knew them. All of them; for the Smiley community was a closely-knit one. There was #983... she drew the teachers up the wall with her weird smiles she did on purpose. There was #1121... the little kid he�d known only for a week who�d told #936 that he was his hero, and he wished he could smile as well as him. #876... the lazy one the teachers couldn�t stand but the students all liked; never willing to smile on cue, always thinking up new ways to turn the teachers blue, or green, or pink.
His friends.
"Sir..."
A lump started swelling up in #936�s throat. But he had to do this... it was his job, after all. Once again, he surveyed the crowd, trying to push aside all his emotions.
The oldest would have to go first, he decided, but even as he did so, memories of that particular Smiley, #528, came up in his mind. #528 had been his tutor... apart from the teachers, she had taught him all he knew.
But she would understand; he had to do this. #936�s conscience would not allow him to sacrifice one of the young Smiley kids fresh out of school... they needed time to live, to enjoy life... if it had anything that could be enjoyed.
#936�s mouth was dry as he spoke the death sentence. "#528" you�re next," he croaked, his voice cracking under the strain.
Their eyes met as she looked up solemnly, seeming to say that she understood.
#936 could only stare back expressionlessly at her, trying hard to hold back the tears he knew were coming as he watched her leave for The Room.
One click.
Two clicks.
Three clicks.
Mine.
"NO!" #936 cried, his voice choked with large, angry sobs that just kept coming, one after the other.
It was futile, he knew. Nothing he could say or do could change anything, especially not the harshness of the truth.
What was it that he had wanted? If #528 had survived, he would have had to give up his sunglasses to her to become once more one of the common folk, awaiting his death along with the rest of them; and she would have had to bear his burden...
They�re waiting, sir," the gentle voice of Flag #2579 said.
Lost in the depths of his helpless sorrow, #936 did not reply.
"If you want, we could always use the lottery system," the flag continued. #936 nodded numbly. He had learnt about this in school; and the lottery would help him make the decision he didn�t want to make. He couldn�t think anymore... they were all going to die and he knew it. It was only a matter of time.
The numbers ran through the screen, visible both upstairs and below as they slowed down to settle on one number...
#1121.
Smiley #936 lifted his head from his desk, watching as the result of the lottery registered on the face of the young Smiley. The latter looked up, the expression on his face one of fear, disappointment and yet... worst of all for #936... trust. Dimly, the older Smiley recalled their meeting the week before, his heart aching once more at the memory...
"When I grow up, I want to be jus� like you," #1121 had said, beaming up at #936 who had smiled in return at the kid.
"Why?"
"�Cause the teachers all say that you�ve got the best smile ever, an� I want mine to be that good too," was the reply.
"Well then, all you�ve got to do is work hard, all right? You�ll be out of school next week and then we�ll see how good your smile can be."
#1121 had nodded happily at his hero, then bounced off cheerfully to his next class as #936 watched him go.
And now that kid stood waiting for #936 to tell him to go, willing to take on whatever lay in store for him. He stared up, scared yet excited, for this was the real thing; his eyes full of trust as he gave #936 a wan smile.
"They�re waiting, sir. All you�ve got to do is give the word."
All he had to do was give the word" but that was so much easier said than done.
"Why did it have to be #1121?" #936 cried in his mind. Of all the Smileys down there"
But the lottery was final; he could not use it more than once for any one game. And he could not tell another Smiley to go... the lottery was final. He had made his choice to use it, and he had to accept its result.
Flag #2579 stood by the door of the room, the top of his body bent slightly down as he looked away from the king. He understood the dilemma #936 was going through... but he couldn�t do a thing to help. It was his job.
"Sir..."
#936 got slowly out of his corner, nodding solemnly. He had made up his mind.
And then, in one swift moment, he turned, bowled over #2579, and rolled out as quickly as he could out the door.
The Minesweeper banged frustrated on the keyboard.
The stupid computer had hung again.
The whole of the Smiley Kingdom was in chaos. Never before had such a thing happened; and now that it had, everyone was at a complete loss as to what to do following the sudden rebelliousness of the newest Smiley king, #936. It was the first time a king had left without naming the next Smiley to play The Game - true, #1121 was technically next according to the lottery results, but the king needed to acknowledge the results before the lottery-chosen Smiley could play. That had always been the way for the couple or so years since the birth of the Smiley Kingdom on the Minesweeper's computer, but #936 had not done so.
Rebelliousness was not something new. Some of the Smileys, the older ones in particular, could remember several occasions where a particularly mutinous Smiley would refuse to enter The Room to play and had to be forced in against their will. Such happenings were rare, though, and never talked about among the Smiley community more than necessary. The names of those disobedient Smileys were taboo for many: #278, #716, #583... and the first who dared oppose the rules of the Smiley Kingdom, thus setting the way for others, #39.
Those names were whispered in fear whenever mentioned, for their owners were not Smileys to be proud of.
No one knew what made them the way they were - so resistant to the rules that were diligently followed by every other Smiley. No one knew what made them fail to see something that was so clear for everyone else: the role of the Smiley was to play The Game.
If they died in the outcome, too bad, that's life. If they won the sunglasses, good for them; they'd be spared from being chosen until the next got the sunglasses. And if the Minesweeper broke the high score - after winning a level for the seventh or more time - with their Game, why... they would be safe then forever from the murderous clutches of the Minesweeper, never again having to mingle with the common Smiley crowd. They would be of the highest position possible for a Smiley, higher even than the kings and queens, who could lose their position any time. They were the Elite, the best of the Smileys, looked upon with awe by everyone else.
But such Smileys were rare. Currently, only seven were known to exist somewhere in a place known as the Upper Realms; a place young Smileys dreamt of at night and everyone else thought of with longing. Anything, The Game or otherwise, was worth it if it presented even the slightest possibility of entering the Upper Realms. All the Smileys held some hope of the Minesweeper breaking the high score on their game for the seventh or more time for that level. This only applied, though, for the Intermediate and Beginner levels - the Expert level had only been conquered once, by #936. Such Smileys were very seldom lucky; yet, the rest of the Smileys never gave up hope. The rebels, of course, were the exceptions... but these until now had always been one of the commoners.
For the first time, however, it was a Smiley king who had refused to follow the rules. And as a result, life at the Smileys knew it ground to a halt as the emergency alarm sounded.
It rang loud and clear, a sound never before heard in the Smiley Kingdom, from the palace to the school to the waiting room that held a hundred or so Smileys. On all of their faces were etched similar expressions of panic and fear as a flag, possibly #2579, yelled an announcement into the Smiley Public Address System (SPAS).
"Do not panic! I repeat, do not panic!"
This served only to send the until then relatively quiet crowd into a screaming state of further chaos. It was as much as many could do to make out the voice of the flag over the din.
"The computer has been shut down!" - gasps from the crowd - "Flags have been sent out after His Majesty. We have everything under control! I say again, there is no need to panic!"
More screams arose from below.
Among the crowd, however, one Smiley was silent as he stared up at where the king had just moments before sat. #936 had done it for him, #1121 - for the sake of his life, #936 had broken the rules of his position and run...
Tears started to roll down the young Smiley's face as all around him, Smileys were breaking down into various stages of hysteria. "Thanks," he whispered, blinking the tears away and evaporating them. If it hadn't been for #936, he'd probably be dead by now.
Meanwhile, in another part of the Smiley Kingdom, #936 had not stopped moving. Hurtling through the myriad of low white corridors that filled this part of the Kingdom, he paused only occasionally to catch his breath, hovering in the air for several seconds before zooming off again. At the corners, he lowered himself to the ground and rolled around them; but otherwise he flew most of the way.
#936 had absolutely no idea as to where he was going. He had heard the flag's announcement over the SPAS, and it gave him only more reason to move faster. He didn't know why he was running away in the first place. All he knew was that if they caught him, it would all have been for nothing and #1121 would almost certainly die... followed by who knew how many others until one of them got the sunglasses, whereupon he would return to the common crowd. The new king or queen would then take charge, and everything would continue as per normal. His current kingship was only a brief respite from the terrible life each Smiley was forced to live. And that was if he wasn't stripped of his position the moment they caught him. Sooner or later he would have to die, and all the other Smileys too. It was just a matter of time.
"It's not fair. It's just not fair!"
"Nothing is. So bear with it. It'll be over before you know it."
"I'll be dead."
"Big deal. We all die someday. The Minesweeper will too, one day. And when that happens... we'll be free. All of us. No longer slaves to the Minesweeper. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
"Not if we're dead."
"Even if we don't make it, there will always be others. Other generations of Smileys. And one day, somehow, we'll be free. I know it."
One day. When? Now?
#936 didn't know. He just kept moving on through the maze of corridors, caring only that he put some distance between himself and the security flags before they caught him.
* * *
The crowd was getting more restless and more angry with each passing moment. Never before had they experienced a time when nothing happened, a time when no one was playing The Game. Rest Times were different. Those happened when the Minesweeper stopped playing and switched off the computer. Then, they were allowed to move off to their own areas of residence in the Smiley Kingdom to wait until the Minesweeper turned her computer on again, whereupon they had to go back to the waiting room to be put on Standby. And even Standby was different, because they always knew what was going on. The big screen in the waiting room displayed short messages that told what the Minesweeper was doing on the computer. They always knew.
Now, however, nobody had any idea what was going on. They weren't playing, on Standby, or having a Rest Time. The king or queen was the Smiley who gave an announcement whenever one of those situations changed into another. But now their king was gone, and they were all at a loss. The screen was still; there had been no directions other than the plea to not panic that had been issued through the SPAS what seemed ages ago.
"What IS this?" an angry voice sounded loudly from the crowd. "How could our king just desert us like that? Doesn't he know what he's done? I mean, look at this! We're just standing here doing nothing! We're not on Standby and there's no Game going on. I want action! I want to do something! I say we charge up there and demand our king back!"
Murmurs and nods of agreement followed #674's short speech.
"No," another voice relied flatly. Eyes turned towards the source, staring as #1031 floated up onto the platform that housed the screen. "Don't you realise what #936 is doing?" she asked. "He's trying to sae us. If he hadn't run, who knows how many of us would be dead by now?"
"That was how it was meant to be, and you know that," #674 shot back. "We're Smileys! We were created so we could die!"
"You know that doesn't have to be. You heard what #936 and #841 said earlier, before either of them played The Game. We can fight this, I know!"
"Oh yeah? So you expect us to take advice from three young, inexperienced Smileys, one of whom is dead, another of whom has abandoned us, and the last of whom is a freak?"
The room fell silent. Most of them had already noticed the slight disfigurement of #1031's face. Half of it was perfectly normal, but the other held one half of a frown. Together, the half-smile and half-frown combined to give her a look of perpetual confusion. Unique, yes. Accepted, no. Until then, the crowd had made no comment about it; but #674's little outburst drew their eyes to #1031's strange deformity.
The Smiley gave a thin, crooked smile. "Do you think it matters? So what if I'm different? It's not as if that's going to change anything. You all know what happens to most of us in The Game. Normal or not, it doesn't affect how anything turns out in the end. We're all going to die, sooner or later. And now, when someone like #936 tries to do something that will change this, you become angry? He's trying to save us, don't you see?
Down in the crowd, #213 shook his head slowly. An ex-Smiley king, he was one of the oldest members of the Smiley community. "Always wanting to save the world, these youngsters. No respect for tradition, that's what it is. You mark my words: nothing good is going to come out of all this. Just rouble. You don't go against the rules like that and expect nothing bad to happen. A king, too." #213 gave a weary sigh. "Times have changed, oh yes. Back then, kings and queens knew what a privilege it was to be what they were. They didn't go running off whenever they felt like it."
"He saved my life!" #1121 yelled, lifting himself slightly off the ground to glare at the crowd. "An' he saved yours too, an' you know it! If it hadn't been for him, who knows how many more of you might be dead by now?"
"You shut up, kid!" #674 rose up too. "Don't talk about things you don't know about! Didn't you learn anything at school? This is life, understand? Everybody has a part to ply in it. We do what we have to, the flags do what they have to, the Minesweeper does what she has to, and everything will be fine. Disrupt one part of that balance and who knows what disasters might come of it? We can't take the risk!"
#1031 almost had to shout to make herself heard in the growing commotion. "What do we have to lose? We're all going to die, anyway! We must as well die fighting!"
"Fighting, fighting!" #213 mocked. "That's all you young lot ever think about. Always rebelling against the ways of life that generations of Smileys have been following for years. May I remind you that to be a Smiley is an honour! We live for The Game, we die for The Game, and we do it with pride! Why, would you rather be one of those flags?" The Smiley snorted derisively. "Living forever... how boring is that? Have you ever seen a flag smile with happiness the way a Smiley does?"
#1031 looked ready to cry. "You all don't care, do you? You're all going to die, and for once someone tries to do something about it, but you all don't care." She turned to #1121. "Come on, kid, let's get out of here. We've got better things to do than stay around with this bunch of losers." She hovered up to the balcony where #936 had been, then looked back at #1121. "You coming?"
#1121 took a last apologetic glance at his fellow Smileys, then whooshed up to join #1031 as the others stared on in various degrees of disapproval.
"Where're we goin'?" he asked.
"I don't know for sure," came the reply. "We're just going to get away from here. And maybe, if we're lucky, we'll find #936." #1031 threw a wry smile at #1121. "Are you scared?"
The young Smiley shook his head determinedly. "Let's go."
And the two Smiley outcasts zoomed off through the door and down the white corridors, flying off in search of their freedom.