Ready Player One (Ready Player One, #1)

by Ernest Cline

You could sit and play Donkey Kong on the table while you ate your pizza.

I wrapped my right hand around the joystick and began to play, guiding my pizza-shaped protagonist through one maze after another. Wakka-wakka-wakka-wakka.

You know you’ve totally screwed up your life when your whole world turns to shit and the only person you have to talk to is your system agent software.

I would sit up there and breathe the unfiltered city air for a while, feeling the wind on my skin. Then I would scale the barrier and hurl myself over the side.

“It’s not over until the fat lady is singing, right?”

The next ten minutes played out like the climax of a John Woo movie. One of the ones starring Chow Yun Fat, like Hard Boiled or The Killer.

My bullet bill this month was going to be huge.

I was back in first place.

My message told them exactly where to find the Second Gate and how to obtain the Crystal Key.

They should have formed a clan right away to try and block the bad guys. Come on nerds!!!!