Quake

Morning in Los Angeles, and the fog had not yet fully dispersed.

Figueroa Street outside the E3 convention center was already hopelessly jammed.

Under IDSA rules, the second day of the show was still reserved exclusively for media and industry professionals.

Ordinary players had to wait until the third day before they could enter with tickets.

Rules were dead things.

The short blurbs that had spread like wildfire last night through Silicon Valley Online and the major BBSes had already yanked the appetites of hardcore players across California and the surrounding areas right up into their throats.

Those pieces of news had fermented all night across dial-up networks, giving birth to a batch of fanatics who could not wait another second.

At Entrance No. 2 of the convention center's south wing, two security guards were sweating buckets as they checked the badges of the people entering.

Static kept crackling from their walkie-talkies.

A young man in an oversized denim jacket was stopped outside the turnstiles.

On the press pass he handed over, the edge of the photo showed obvious signs of tampering.

"This badge isn't yours, sir." The guard pushed the badge back. "It says you're the editor-in-chief of Electronic Gaming Monthly. You don't look old enough to drink legally."

The guard pushed the money away and pointed at the guard booth beside him.

Cursing under his breath, the young man put the money away, turned, and walked toward a few people his own age gathered not far off, discussing whether they could climb in through the loading channel.

David and Paul showed their real press passes and passed smoothly through the turnstiles.

"Money powers don't work too well in this place." Paul watched the young man's back and hung his badge back around his neck. "But this also proves