Few people have a legitimately brilliant mind, but the seeds of genius were always evident in James Dashner, and his Mortality Doctrine trilogy had perhaps the greatest potential of any series he wrote. The line between reality and fiction is so blurred in these novels that the two are indistinguishable, gaming technology having advanced to the point that we're left questioning the authenticity of our life experiences. Are our joys and sorrows our own, the purely organic result of the decisions we make, the people we hurt or bless through our actions? Or could they be the elaborate imaginings of a loftier mind, or a mind equal or inferior to ours but with a vantage point so much higher than we can perceive that we have no hope of ever sensing its presence, of realizing that our lives are only the whimsical storytelling of an external creative mind? Are we real people sprung inexplicably to life from the ether of our universe, or just characters whose maddening inability to permanently change our core qualities when we want to can be blamed on ultimate control belonging to a higher entity that pulls our strings and commands us to dance, and we have no choice but to obey? True reality—whatever that may be, if it empirically exists—is always in doubt in the Mortality Doctrine series, and as the plot progresses through The Eye of Minds, then The Rule of Thoughts, and proceeds to its finale in The Game of Lives, pressure mounts with the certainty that mega revelations are set to detonate the world we think we know. How profoundly can James Dashner shock us between the covers of a novel? We're about to discover the answer.
"It's a miracle, life. Don't you think? A group of cells reproducing with such precision that they become what you are today. A full-grown person, walking, talking, running, jumping, eating, dancing, sleeping."
—Kaine, The Game of Lives, P. 200
Despondent as Michael, Sarah, and Bryson were at the conclusion of the previous book when their attempt to destroy the Tangent Kaine's central programming failed and they were instead set up to wreck the VirtNet Security (VNS) online system, The Rule of Thoughts did not end with them in jail. Under orders from Michael's Tangent childhood nanny, Helga, Sarah's parents broke into lockup and freed the three hacker teens, spiriting them to safety among Helga and her underground coalition of Tangents dedicated to defeating Kaine's Mortality Doctrine experiment. Like Kaine, Helga and her cohorts have downloaded themselves into human bodies so they can be active in the real world, but unlike Kaine, they have no intention of permanently taking over their host bodies. The mind of every person ejected from his or her body and replaced by a Tangent—including Jackson Porter, whom Michael was downloaded into by Kaine to kickstart the Mortality Doctrine program—is fully intact in a virtual storage colony called the Hive, and Helga promises they will be returned to their bodies as soon as Kaine's agenda is upended. Very little of this makes sense to Michael; how can Helga oppose Kaine by taking over more bodies, worsening the devastation Kaine has inflicted on VirtNet gamers worldwide? How can Michael even be certain this is the real Helga, considering Kaine's track record of cruel identity tricks? The Helga he grew up nannied by was secretly a Tangent all along, a figment of computer code like him. Now she's inside a human body, and Michael has only her word that she's his Helga. Michael can't trust anyone completely anymore, but what choice does he have? He can't combat Kaine if he decides reality is an endless parade of illusions and curls up in a ball and does nothing.
But Kaine is no longer the only Tangent Michael needs to worry about. Others are on his trail, and would eliminate Helga and her group without hesitation. The Mortality Doctrine is the Tangents' chance to make the leap from formless code to biological life form and fulfill their ambition of becoming human. Once a Tangent has entered a body, who's to say they're not truly human? As Michael collaborates with Sarah, Bryson, and Helga to find a chink in Kaine's virtual armor, Tangents everywhere are drawn in their direction, many determined to destroy them before they succeed. Enemies lurk in the human world, too. Agent Weber's behavior, which grew progressively erratic throughout The Rule of Thoughts, can no longer deny she has her own unsavory agenda, though Michael and company have little idea of her ultimate goal. Is Weber a Tangent, assisting Kaine with the Mortality Doctrine so other Tangents can begin displacing humans on a global scale, or is her angle even more sinister? When Agent Weber calls for an international VNS strategy council to debate the issue, Michael, Sarah, and Bryson attend in virtual form, but the disturbing disruptions at the meeting only further erode their confidence in any authority claiming to oppose Kaine. If they're to stop the Tangent from taking over the world, they can't rely on Weber, the VNS, or any human organization. Michael, Sarah, Bryson, and Helga trust themselves and each other, and together they believe they're capable of neutralizing Kaine once and for all.
When Michael finally uncovers the real game being played, his intellectual swordplay with Weber and Kaine turns into a life-or-death battle of coding ingenuity and fast fingers, reacting at high speed to attacks that could irretrievably erase Michael's consciousness and that of his friends. Every intelligence, organic or Tangent, is still just a code, and can be deleted with the right sequence of commands. Fighting multiple enemies powerful enough to eradicate humanity, Michael has only minutes, then seconds to crack the code and deal his foes their mortal blow. But even if he is successful, what future does he have in a world where humans rule and any other form of intelligence is considered subhuman? Does a happy ending exist for a lonesome Tangent in a simulated world, barred from participating in real life?
"There's always hope. Always. You just never know what life—or death—might bring. I think we've all seen that the world is a little more complicated than we ever could have imagined."
—Helga, The Game of Lives, P. 155
I won't argue if you say aspects of the Mortality Doctrine trilogy remain sketchy even after this book. Several promising story threads ultimately go nowhere, apparently forgotten. But The Game of Lives packs an emotional wallop that makes those orphaned threads seem less significant, and that's why even though I'm tempted to rate it two and a half stars, I don't think I can justify giving less than a full three. The strong emotions of The Game of Lives derive from the same place as those in The Eye of Minds, and left me nearly as shaken. Love can feel like a package that always shows up at someone else's door, a gift never addressed to you. When you open your door one day to find that package waiting for you, it's such a surprise that you suspect at first there may be some mistake. This is true to an extreme degree for Michael, who had any hope of love stolen from him with the revelation that he's a Tangent. Every dream of falling in love, marrying, and starting his own family, outlandish aspirations for a sentient string of computer code, evaporated in that instant. But maybe those dreams aren't lost to Michael. What is a human mind, anyway? What are the implications if a real person falls in love with a sequence of numbers designed to simulate a human being? What if that sequence is coded to have a smart sense of humor, attractive ambition, is kindhearted, and loves the real person in return? Who judges what consciousnesses are or aren't legitimate? Yet a love that enters one's life right when they're needed most can be lost in the violence of war, and death is no small obstacle even in a world where code is rarely irreversibly destroyed, only scattered like cremated ashes we don't know how to reverse engineer. But a heart that never gives up, even when faced with the surety of a hopeless forever, has a curious habit of transforming the impossible into the merely improbable. An indomitable spirit will never give up on finding their loved one anew, restoring what seemed beyond any mortal to save. And what could be more human than that?
Michael deals with constant doubts about the nature of reality in The Game of Lives, uncomfortably aware that existential certainty is at best an educated guess. These questions couldn't be more personal for Michael, as his own sentience is a matter of opinion. But he has to proceed in the conviction that he's a real person or there's no point in living, and that's partly why he heatedly defends Helga in the early going of this book when his friends voice skepticism about her: "You don't have a clue what it's like to be a Tangent. We might be a bunch of code to you guys, but I can't accept that. There's more to us. I know it. I'm a person, I have a mind, I can think for myself, and I don't care what anyone else says...At some point you have to go with your heart!" He revisits that sentiment later in a moment alone with Sarah and Bryson, swapping childhood memories. Michael doesn't know if his memories actually happened in virtual reality or if they were simply programmed into his mind. This deeply saddens him, but he has to believe in his memories, or he's lost. "I mean, what's real and what's not?" he asks his two closest friends. "I guess I just have to decide that it happened." His friends can't be any more certain of Michael's nature than he is, but they're willing to believe, and Sarah is ready to do more than have faith that Michael is a person. "I honestly don't know what you are, but I know who you are. And I love you, Michael. I really do. Roll your eyes all you want, but whatever you are...I'm in love with him." What gift means more than a loved one's unshakeable faith in who we are when we aren't sure ourselves? If we can never confirm the extent to which we occupy reality, does anything matter more than the recognition of people we love? I don't know; no one does. Existence is a riddle that for now, at least, we haven't the means to solve. Reality could be eternally more complicated than we can conceive, but even human hypotheses boggle the mind. "Who's to say what's real and what's not, anyway?" Gabby, Jackson Porter's girlfriend, muses. "For all we know, the Wake is just an even more complicated program, run by a bunch of aliens. Or God. Or both. Maybe there's an infinite number of levels. Maybe it gets rebooted every million years." The burden of existential cognizance is heavy, and will crush those who labor beneath it for long. Humans can't make much progress moving it, but we can do our best to love and open ourselves to receive love in this lifetime, be generous toward others, and prepare for whatever challenges and enhanced understanding may await in the life to come. As Agent Weber might say, that's the Game of Lives.
The Maze Runner series is probably better than the Mortality Doctrine trilogy, but both perform at a high level. The Eye of Minds is the best installment of this trilogy, but The Game of Lives scores points with its strong emotional undercurrent, which pulls on the reader's heart until the final sentence of the book. That's what lifts The Game of Lives from a moderately entertaining science fiction adventure to the ranks of meaningful literature, an experience that will linger with me for the rest of my life. Commercially successful as he is, I consider James Dashner underrated as a literary artist, probably because of the simplicity of his writing. He isn't a delicate linguist, an innovative architect of metaphor, or a mind-bending philosopher, but he works in his own intense style with unfailing acumen, and there aren't many authors I find more rewarding to read. The Mortality Doctrine is a transformative series, and even a review of this depth can't entirely express what it means to me. I'll always be grateful we have James Dashner.