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Ready Player One, Page 35

Ernest Cline

  “Thanks, Og.” I was still dazed and felt unsteady on my feet.

  “Several chief executives from GSS arrived while you were logged in,” Og said. “Along with all of Jim’s lawyers. They’re all waiting upstairs. As you can imagine, they’re anxious to speak with you.”

  “Do I have to talk to them right now?”

  “No, of course not!” He laughed. “They all work for you now, remember? Make the bastards wait as long as you like!” He leaned forward. “My lawyer is up there too. He’s a good guy. A real pit bull. He’ll make sure that no one messes with you, OK?”

  “Thanks, Og,” I said. “I really owe you.”

  “Nonsense!” he said. “I should be thanking you. I haven’t had this much fun in decades! You did good, kid.”

  I glanced around uncertainly. Aech and Shoto were still in their immersion bays, holding an impromptu online press conference. But Art3mis’s bay was empty. I turned back to Og.

  “Do you know which way Art3mis went?”

  Og grinned at me, then pointed. “Up those stairs and out the first door you see,” he said. “She said she’d wait for you at the center of my hedge maze.” He smiled. “It’s an easy maze. It shouldn’t take you very long to find her.”

  I stepped outside and squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light. The air was warm, and the sun was already high overheard. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  It was a beautiful day.

  The hedge maze covered several acres of land behind the mansion. The entrance was designed to look like the facade of a castle, and you entered the maze through its open gates. The dense hedge walls that comprised the maze were ten feet tall, making it impossible to peek over them, even if you stood on top of one of the benches placed throughout the labyrinth.

  I entered the maze and wandered around in circles for a few minutes, confused. Eventually, I realized that the maze’s layout was identical to the labyrinth in Adventure.

  After that, it took me only a few more minutes to find my way to the large open area at the maze’s center. A large fountain stood there, with a detailed stone sculpture of Adventure’s three duck-shaped dragons. Each dragon was spitting a stream of water instead of breathing fire.

  And then I saw her.

  She was sitting on a stone bench, staring into the fountain. She had her back to me, and her head was tilted down. Her long black hair spilled down over her right shoulder. I could see that she was kneading her hands in her lap.

  I was afraid to move any closer. Finally, I worked up the courage to speak. “Hello,” I said.

  She lifted her head at the sound of my voice, but didn’t turn around.

  “Hello,” I heard her say. And it was her voice. Art3mis’s voice. The voice I’d spent so many hours listening to. And that gave me the courage to step forward.

  I walked around the fountain and stopped once I was standing directly in front of her. As she heard me approach, she turned her head away, averting her eyes and keeping me out of her field of vision.

  But I could see her.

  She looked just as she had in the photo I’d seen. She had the same Rubenesque body. The same pale, freckled skin. The same hazel eyes and raven hair. The same beautiful round face, with the same reddish birthmark. But unlike in that photo, she wasn’t trying to hide the birthmark with a sweep of her hair. She had her hair brushed back, so I could see it.

  I waited in silence. But she still wouldn’t look up at me.

  “You look just like I always pictured you,” I said. “Beautiful.”

  “Really?” she said softly. Slowly, she turned to face me, taking in my appearance a little at a time, starting with my feet and then gradually working her way up to my face. When our eyes finally met, she smiled at me nervously. “Well, what do you know? You look just like I always thought you would too,” she said. “Butt ugly.”

  We both laughed, and most of the tension in the air dissipated. Then we stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like a long time. It was, I realized, also the very first time.

  “We haven’t been formally introduced,” she said. “I’m Samantha.”

  “Hello, Samantha. I’m Wade.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Wade.”

  She patted the bench beside her, and I sat down.

  After a long silence, she said, “So what happens now?”

  I smiled. “We’re going to use all of the moolah we just won to feed everyone on the planet. We’re going to make the world a better place, right?”

  She grinned. “Don’t you want to build a huge interstellar spaceship, load it full of videogames, junk food, and comfy couches, and then get the hell out of here?”

  “I’m up for that, too,” I said. “If it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  She gave me a shy smile. “We’ll have to see,” she said. “We just met, you know.”

  “I’m in love with you.”

  Her lower lip started to tremble. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes. I am. Because it’s true.”

  She smiled at me, but I also saw that she was crying. “I’m sorry for breaking things off with you,” she said. “For disappearing from your life. I just—”

  “It’s OK,” I said. “I understand why you did it now.”

  She looked relieved. “You do?”

  I nodded. “You did the right thing.”

  “You think so?”

  “We won, didn’t we?”

  She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

  “Listen,” I said. “We can take things as slow as you like. I’m really a nice guy, once you get to know me. I swear.”

  She laughed and wiped away a few of her tears, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Did I mention that I’m also extremely rich?” I said. “Of course, so are you, so I don’t suppose that’s a big selling point.”

  “You don’t need to sell me on anything, Wade,” she said. “You’re my best friend. My favorite person.” With what appeared to be some effort, she looked me in the eye. “I’ve really missed you, you know that?”

  My heart felt like it was on fire. I took a moment to work up my courage; then I reached out and took her hand. We sat there awhile, holding hands, reveling in the strange new sensation of actually touching one another.

  Some time later, she leaned over and kissed me. It felt just like all those songs and poems had promised it would. It felt wonderful. Like being struck by lightning.

  It occurred to me then that for the first time in as long as I could remember, I had absolutely no desire to log back into the OASIS.


  Many of my favorite people were subjected to early drafts of this book, and each of them gave me invaluable feedback and encouragement. My sincere thanks to Eric Cline, Susan Somers-Willett, Chris Beaver, Harry Knowles, Amber Bird, Ingrid Richter, Sara Sutterfield Winn, Jeff Knight, Hilary Thomas, Anne Miano, Tonie Knight, Nichole Cook, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Jay Smith, Mike Henry, Jed Strahm, Andy Howell, and Chris Fry.

  I’m also indebted to Yfat Reiss Gendell, the Coolest Agent in the Known Universe, who managed to make several of my lifelong dreams come true just a few months after I met her. Thanks also to Stéphanie Abou, Hannah Brown Gordon, Cecilia Campbell-Westlind, and all of the awesome folks at Foundry Literary and Media.

  A huge shout-out to the amazing Dan Farah, my friend, manager, and Hollywood partner in crime. My gratitude also goes out to Donald De Line, Andrew Haas, and Jesse Ehrman at Warner Bros., for believing that this book will make a great movie.

  Thanks to the incredibly talented and supportive team at Crown, including Patty Berg, Sarah Breivogel, Jacob Bronstein, David Drake, Jill Flaxman, Jacqui Lebow, Rachelle Mandik, Maya Mavjee, Seth Morris, Michael Palgon, Tina Pohlman, Annsley Rosner, and Molly Stern. And to my fantastic copyeditor, Deanna Hoak, who found the Secret Room in Adventure back in the day.

  I owe a special debt of gratitude to Julian Pavia, my brilliant editor
, who believed in my ability as a writer long before I finished this book. Julian’s startling intelligence, insight, and relentless attention to detail helped me shape Ready Player One into the book I’d always wanted it to be, and he made me a better writer in the process.

  Finally, I want to thank all of the writers, filmmakers, actors, artists, musicians, programmers, game designers, and geeks whose work I’ve paid tribute to in this story. These people have all entertained and enlightened me, and I hope that—like Halliday’s hunt—this book will inspire others to seek out their creations.


  Ernest Cline lives in Austin, Texas,

  where he devotes a large portion of his time

  to geeking out. This is his first novel.