Read Warcross for Free Online

one of the drawings.
There!
I’d exclaimed, pointing excitedly at it.
    Dad had smiled at me.
See?
he’d said.
Every locked door has a key, Emi.
    I stared down at the assignment, my father’s words turning over and over in my mind. Then I did as he said—I leaned backand took in the code all at once. Like it was a painting. Like I was searching for the point of interest.
    And almost immediately, I saw the error. I reached for my school laptop, opened it, and typed out the corrected code.
    It worked.
Hello, World!
said my laptop’s program.
    To this day, I can’t properly describe how I felt in that moment. To see my solution working,
functioning,
on the screen. To realize that, with three little lines of text, I had the power to command a machine to do
exactly
what I wanted.
    The gears in my head, creaky from grief, suddenly began to turn again. Begging for another problem. I finished the second one. Then a third. I kept going, faster and faster, until I finished not only that homework sheet but every problem in my textbook. The fog in my chest eased, revealing a warm, beating heart beneath it.
    If I could solve these problems, then I could control something. And if I could control something, I could forgive myself for the one problem that I could never have solved, the one person I could never have saved. Everyone has a different way of escaping the dark stillness of their mind. This, I learned, was mine.
    I finished my dinner that night for the first time in months. The next day and the day after that and every day since, I channeled every bit of my energy into learning everything about code and Warcross and the NeuroLink that I could get my brains on.
    As for Hideo Tanaka . . . from that day on, along with the rest of the world, I was obsessed. I watched him as if I were afraid to blink, incapable of looking away, like he might start another revolution at any moment.

4
    My glasses are old and used, several generations behind, but they work fine. I put them on and the earphones fit snugly, sealing out the sound of outside traffic and footsteps from upstairs. Our humble apartment—and, with it, all my worries—is replaced by blackness and silence. I exhale, relieved to leave the real world behind for a while. My view soon fills with a neon-blue light, and I find myself standing on the top of a hill, looking down at the city lights of a virtual Tokyo that could pass for the real thing. The only reminder that I’m inside a simulation is a clear box hovering in the center of my vision.
    Welcome back, [null]
    Level 24 | N430
    Those two lines then vanish. [null], of course, isn’t actually my name. In my hacked account, I’m able to wander around as ananonymous player. Other players crossing my path will see me as a randomly generated username.)
    When I look behind me, I see my customized room decked out in variations of the Warcross logo. Normally, this room has two doors: play a round, or watch other people play. Today, though, there is a third door, above which some text hovers:
    Warcross Opening Ceremony Game
    Live
    In real life, I tap my fingers against the tabletop. As I do, the glasses sense my finger movements, and a virtual keyboard slides out. I search for Keira in the player directory. I find her in no time, connect with her, and a few seconds later, she accepts my invite and appears at my side. Like me (and most other players), she’s designed her avatar to look like an idealized version of her real self, adorned with a few cool game items—a gleaming breastplate, a pair of horns—she’d bought.
    “Let’s head in,” she says.
    I move forward, then reach my hand out and open the third door. Light washes over me. I squint and my heart gives a familiar leap as the invisible roar of viewers drowns out everything. A soundtrack swells over my earphones. I find myself standing on one of what seems like a million floating islands, staring down into the most beautiful valley I’ve ever seen.
    A wide