This narrative follows a man who journeyed far and wide solely for the purpose of playing games. Known as “Gurgeh,” his story begins with a conflict that isn’t truly a battle and culminates in a game that transcends a mere game.

As for myself? I’ll share more about my story later. Let’s delve into the beginning.

Dust kicked up with every step he took. He limped across the desert, trailing the figure ahead, clad in a suit. His gun remained silent in his grasp. They would arrive soon. The sound of distant waves resonated through his helmet. Approaching a tall dune, he would soon catch a glimpse of the coast. Somehow, he had survived, which was unexpected.

Outside, it was bright, hot, and dry, but within the suit, he found solace from the sun and the searing air. It was a comfortable respite. One edge of the helmet’s visor was charred from impact; his right leg was awkwardly bent, injured and limp. Yet, other than that, he considered himself fortunate. The last attack had come up short, just a kilometer away, and now was nearly out of range.

The missile soared in a shimmering arc over the nearest ridge. His broken visor delayed his discovery of them; he mistakenly thought the missile had already launched, when it was merely sunlight reflecting off its sleek surface. The aircraft dove like a flock of birds and trembled simultaneously.

When firing commenced, it was marked by a pulsing red light. He lifted his weapon in defense. Others in the group clad in suits had already begun firing; some dove to the sandy ground, while others dropped to one knee. He remained the only one standing.

The missiles altered course yet again, veering off and splitting into different paths. Dust swirled around his feet as projectiles closed in. He attempted to target one of the small machines, but they darted surprisingly quickly, and the gun felt cumbersome in his grip. Echoes of gunfire and the cries of others surrounded him. A light blinked within his helmet, indicating damage. His suit trembled violently, and soon his right leg was numb.

“Wake up, Gurgeh!” Yay laughed beside him. As two small missiles suddenly veered towards their section, she knelt, anticipating it as a vulnerability. Gurgeh noticed the approaching machine, but the gun seemed to thud in his hand, struggling to aim where the missile had been launched. Two machines rushed between him and Yay. One missile exploded with a flash, drawing Yay’s joyful exclamation. The second missile swung dangerously close. She tried to kick out but Gurgeh awkwardly turned to shoot, inadvertently spraying fire onto Yay’s suit. He heard her yell and swear, and as she stumbled back, she raised her gun. Just as the second missile circled again, dust erupted around it, its red pulse reflecting on his suit and drowning his visor in darkness. He felt paralyzed from the neck down and crouched on the ground, plunging into darkness and eerie silence.

“You are dead,” a crisp, small voice informed him.

Lying concealed on the desert floor, he picked up muffled sounds in the distance, along with vibrations from the ground. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he struggled to control his breath.

His nose itched, yet it was unreachable. What am I doing here? he mused.

Gradually, his senses returned. Voices flickered around him, and he gazed through his visor at the flattened desert beneath him. Before he could react, someone yanked him up by an arm.

He unclipped his helmet. Melistinu stood nearby, her head bare, observing him while shaking her head. Hands on her hips, she swung her gun from one wrist. “You were terrible,” she remarked, yet not unkindly. Despite her youthful beauty, her deep, deliberate voice carried an understanding far beyond her years.

Others sat among the rocks and dust, chatting as some players returned to the clubhouse. Yei retrieved Gurgeh’s weapon and offered it to him. He scratched his nose then shook his head, declining to reclaim his gun.

“Well, this is meant for children,” he stated.

She paused, slinging her gun over one shoulder, its muzzle shimmering in the sunlight as it caught his attention. Dazed, he witnessed the line of missiles heading their way again.

“So?” she questioned. “It’s not dull. You called it tedious, but I thought you might find filming enjoyable.”

He brushed off the dust, making his way back towards the clubhouse. Yay ambled beside him, a recovery drone whirling past to collect debris from the destroyed machine.

“This is childish, Yay. Why waste your time on such nonsense?”

They paused atop the dune. The low clubhouse lay a hundred meters ahead, nestled between them and the golden sand and white waves. Under the blazing sun, the sea sparkled brightly.

“Don’t be so bossy,” she replied, her short brown hair dancing in the same breeze that curled the surf’s crest and sent sprays back into the ocean. She bent to scoop up fragments of a shattered missile, brushing sand from its glossy surface and examining the pieces in her hands. “I’m having fun,” she stated. “I enjoy games like you do, but…I also enjoy this.” Puzzled, she added, “This is a game. Don’t you understand? Are you not enjoying this?“

“No. Eventually, you won’t either.”

She shrugged casually. “Until then,” she handed him the broken fragment of machinery. He observed a group of young men en route to the shooting range as they passed.

“Mr. Gurgeh?” One of the young men halted, eyes questioning. The flicker of annoyance crossed Gurgeh’s old visage but was swiftly replaced by a tolerant grin familiar to Yay. “Gernow, morat Gurgeh?” inquired the young man, still failing to grasp the name.

“Guilty,” Gurgeh replied with a graceful smile, straightening up slightly. The young man’s face lit up as he executed a hasty, formal bow. Gurgeh exchanged a glance with Yay.

“Anne honor ‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Gurgeh,’ the young man beamed. “… I follow all of your matches. I’ve collected a complete set of your theoretical studies.”

Gurgeh nodded. “What an inclusive individual you are!”

“Whenever you are here, I’d be thrilled if you would play against me… Deploy is perhaps my forte. I play three points, but—”

“Sadly, my limitation is time,” Gurgeh interrupted. “But absolutely, should the chance arise, I would be delighted to compete against you.” He offered a nod. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The young man flushed and took a step back with a beaming smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Gurgeh. … Farewell… Farewell.” Awkwardly smiling, he turned to rejoin his friends.

Gurgeh observed him depart. “You truly enjoy all that, don’t you, Gurgeh?” she smiled.

“Not at all,” he replied curtly. “It’s bothersome.”

Yay continued watching the young man until he disappeared, footsteps crunching in the sand. With a sigh, she turned to Gurgeh. “And what about you? Are you enjoying…this destruction?”

“It hardly counts as destruction,” Yay replied. “Instead of being obliterated, the missiles are disassembled explosively. One can be reassembled in under thirty minutes.”

“So that’s a lie.”

“What isn’t?”

“Intellectual achievement. Skill application. Human emotion.”

Yay rolled her eyes. “It appears we have quite a distance before mutual understanding, Gurgeh.”

“Then allow me to assist you.”

“Will I become your pupil?”

“Yes.”

Yay gazed away toward where the roller had landed on the beach, then back to him. As the wind rustled and waves crashed, she slowly pulled the helmet back over her head and clicked it into place. He remained transfixed, observing her reflection in the visor as she brushed a strand of black hair away.

With her visor raised, she said, “See you again, Gurgeh. Chumris and I will visit you the day after tomorrow, thought?”

“If you’d like.”

“I want to.” She winked at him and began down the sandy incline. She relinquished her weapon just as a recovery drone flew by, laden with metallic shards.

Gurgeh stood there momentarily, holding the remnants of the destroyed machine before letting them fall onto the barren sand.

This excerpt is from a book by Iain M. Banks. Culture novel Game Player (Orbit), New Scientist Book Club’s December 2025 reading. Join us here to read together..

Topics:

• Science Fiction/
• New Scientist Book Club