Ender’s Game

“I think I’ll bite your head off,” said the Giant, as he always did.

This time, instead of ru

The Giant stuck out his tongue and Ender fell to the ground.

“How about a guessing game?” asked the Giant. So it didn’t make any difference―the Giant only played the guessing game. Stupid computer. Millions of possible scenarios in its memory, and the Giant could only play one stupid game.

The Giant, as always, set two huge shot glasses, as tall as Ender’s knees, on the table in front of him. As always, the two were filled with different liquids. The computer was good enough that the liquids had never repeated, not that he could remember. This time the one had a thick, creamy looking liquid. The other hissed and foamed.

“One is poison and one is not,” said the Giant. “Guess right and I’ll take you into Fairyland.”

Guessing meant sticking his head into one of the glasses to drink. He never guessed right. Sometimes his head was dissolved. Sometimes he caught on fire. Sometimes he fell in and drowned. Sometimes he fell out, turned green, and rotted away. It was always ghastly, and the Giant always laughed.

Ender knew that whatever he chose he would die. The game was rigged. On the first death, his figure would reappear on the Giant’s table, to play again. On the second death, he’d come back to the landslides. Then to the garden bridge. Then to the mousehole. And then, if he still went back to the Giant and played again, and died again, his desk would go dark, “Free Play Over” would march around the desk and Ender would lie back on his bed and tremble until he could finally go to sleep. The game was rigged but still the Giant talked about Fairyland, some stupid childish three-year-old’s Fairyland that probably had some stupid Mother Goose or Pac-Man or Peter Pan, it wasn’t even worth getting to, but he had to find some way of beating the Giant to get there.

He drank the creamy liquid. Immediately he began to inflate and rise like a balloon. The Giant laughed. He was dead again.

He played again, and this time the liquid set, like concrete, and held his head down while the Giant cut him open along the spine, deboned him like a fish, and began to eat while his arms and legs quivered.

He reappeared at the landslides and decided not to go on. He even let the landslides cover him once. But even though he was sweating and he felt cold, with his next life he went back up the hills till they turned into bread, and stood on the Giant’s table as the shot glasses were set before him.

He stared at the two liquids. The one foaming, the other with waves in it like the sea. He tried to guess what kind of death each one held. Probably a fish will come out of the ocean one and eat me. The foamy one will probably asphyxiate me. I hate this game. It isn’t fair. It’s stupid. It’s rotten.

And instead of pushing his face into one of the liquids, he kicked one over, then the other, and dodged the Giant’s huge hands as the Giant shouted, “Cheater, cheater!” He jumped at the Giant’s face, clambered up his lip and nose, and began to dig in the Giant’s eye. The stuff came away like cottage cheese, and as the Giant screamed, Ender’s figure burrowed into the eye, climbed right in, burrowed in and in.

The Giant fell over backward, the view shifted as he fell, and when the Giant came to rest on the ground, there were intricate, lacy trees all around. A bat flew up and landed on the dead Giant’s nose. Ender brought his figure up out of the Giant’s eye.

“How did you get here?” the bat asked. “Nobody ever comes here.”

Ender could not answer, of course. So he reached down, took a handful of the Giant’s eyestuff, and offered it to the bat.

The bat took it and flew off, shouting as it went, “Welcome to Fairyland.”

He had made it. He ought to explore. He ought to climb down from the Giant’s face and see what he had finally achieved.

Instead he signed off, put his desk in his locker, stripped off his clothes and pulled his blanket over him. He hadn’t meant to kill the Giant. This was supposed to be a game. Not a choice between his own grisly death and an even worse murder. I’m a murderer, even when I play. Peter would be proud of me.

7. Salamander

“Isn’t it nice to know that Ender can do the impossible?”

“The player’s deaths have always been sickening. I’ve always thought the Giant’s Drink was the most perverted part at the whole mind game, but going for the eye like that―this is the one we want to put in command of our fleets?”

“What matters is that he won the game that couldn’t be won.”

“I suppose you’ll move him now.”

“We were waiting to see how he handled the thing with Bernard. He handled it perfectly.”

“So as soon as he can cope with a situation, you move him to one he can’t cope with. Doesn’t he get any rest?”

“He’ll have a month or two, maybe three, with his launch group. That’s really quite a long time in a child’s life.”

“Does it ever seem to you that these boys aren’t children? I look at what they do, the way they talk, and they don’t seem like little kids.”

“They’re the most brilliant children in the world, each in his own way.”

“But shouldn’t they still act like children? They aren’t normal. They act like―history. Napoleon and Wellington. Caesar and Brutus.”

“We’re trying to save the world, not heal the wounded heart. You’re too compassionate.”

“General Levy has no pity for anyone. All the videos say so. But don’t hurt this boy.”

“Are you joking?”

“I mean, don’t hurt him more than you have to.”

Alai sat across from Ender at di

“Me?” asked Ender.

“Come on. Who else? It sure wasn’t Bernard. And Shen isn’t too hot on the computer. And I know it wasn’t me. Who else? Doesn’t matter. I figured out how to fake a new student entry. You just created a student named Bernard-blank, B-E-R-N-A-R-D-space, so the computer didn’t kick it out as a repeat of another student.”

“Sounds like that might work,” said Ender.

“OK, OK. It does work. But you did that practically on the first day.”

“Or somebody. Maybe Dap did it, to keep Bernard from getting too much control.”

“I found something else. I can’t do it with your name.”

“Oh?”

“Anything with Ender in it gets kicked out. I can’t get inside your files at all, either. You made your own security system.”

“Maybe.”

Alai gri

“If I give you my system, you’ll know how I do it and you’ll get in and trash me.”

“You say me?” Alai asked. “I’m the sweetest friend you got!”

Ender laughed. “I’ll setup a system for you.”

“Now?”

“Can I finish eating?”

“You never finish eating.”

It was true. Ender’s tray always had food on it after a meal. Ender looked at the plate and decided he was through. “Let’s go then.”

When they got to the barracks Ender squatted down by his bed and said, “Get your desk and bring it over here. I’ll show you how.” But when Alai brought his desk to Ender’s bed, Ender was just sitting there, his lockers still closed.

“What’s up?” asked Alai.

In answer Ender palmed his locker. “Unauthorized Access Attempt,” it said. It didn’t open.

“Somebody done a dance on your head, mama,” Alai said. “Somebody eated your face.”

“You sure you want my security system now?” Ender got up and walked away from his bed.