.”
Elliot removed the coil of wire from Tom’s grasp and began unwinding it with a graceful, fluid twirl of his hands. “Now, Tom, do you know much about Applied Simulations?”
“I know enough,” Tom said. “We enter a group simulation, we work as a team, we carry out some objective. It’s all in the brain, like Calisthenics without the workout.”
“Not quite. You see, in Calisthenics, you’re presented with false images, but you’re still aware of your own body. In Applied Sims, you are literally receiving sensory info directly from your neural processor according to the simulation’s parameters. Applied Sims is designed to mimic the way we use neural processors to interface with machines in combat. Hooking in feels like being inside a new body. You may not remember yourself; you may only know what your character knows, depending on the parameters of the program. Some people find it frightening the first few times because it’s a total immersion experience. The emphasis is on teamwork.”
“Sounds great.”
“You say that, but I bet you’re nervous.”
“I’m really not.”
“Oh, sure you’re not.” Elliot gave him a knowing look Tom did not appreciate at all. “Now, Tom, the first time hooking in can be scary. I like to take my plebes through it personally.”
“I’ll be okay. Sir.”
But Elliot strode around to the other side of the cot. “Lean forward.”
Tom braced his hands on the edge of the mattress and dipped his head. A hand clasped his shoulder to anchor him in place. Tom clenched his jaw. Elliot was so close that he could feel hot breath on his neck.
“You can let me know if you get frightened or uncomfortable. It’s pretty common—”
“I’ll be fine,” Tom cut in. Then, “Sir.”
The wire clicked into his brain stem and the world tunneled into blackness. All sensation seeped from his limbs with a horrifying abruptness.
“That happened faster than I …” Tom’s voice blurred away mid-sentence.
The last glimpse he had through his own eyes was of the world flying downward as he keeled over.
A ND THEN T OM was not Tom.
Blinding whiteness on all sides of him. An icy tundra crushed beneath a thick gray sky. Chill wind stung at his eyes, his skin, yet it felt perfect to him, bracing.
A strange feeling pulsed through him, his muscles, his tendons. Blood, vitality, life. He bounded forward, his paws treading over the cold, hard snow, and the scents tearing at his nostrils overwhelmed him. His vision became a dim afterthought and all he could do was stand there, experiencing the tastes on the wind.
The earthy scent of friends .
A hot, rich taste of prey .
That distracted him. He thrust his muzzle up into the wind and inhaled it, the teasing, taunting scent calling to him. But there was something else.
Danger .
He thrust his muzzle against the icy ground and checked on it. An image in his head: the stale white fur of a predator, blood-crusted paws, a low roar.
Danger gone for some time now. A massive predator. Stalking across the snow. Gone now .
He followed more scents, entranced. Ice … metal … dirt … man …
Howling.
The call of his friends split the air. He hurled himself toward them without deciding to, tearing across the snowy plain, driven by an insatiable need to add to that sound. The scent of family grew stronger and richer in his nostrils and then he was among the other wolves of his pack and throwing back his head, the sound rising from deep in his throat. The wail seemed to pierce the sky above them and spread over the valley, a sense of union like he’d never known before welling inside him.
The largest and the strongest wolf charged into their midst. The tails of the other wolves flopped down submissively. Ferocious barking from the alpha, and then the alpha whipped around and charged toward that scent on the wind, toward the sweetness of prey with its fresh, pulsing blood and tender flesh. The pack became a gray surge tearing over the
Elliot removed the coil of wire from Tom’s grasp and began unwinding it with a graceful, fluid twirl of his hands. “Now, Tom, do you know much about Applied Simulations?”
“I know enough,” Tom said. “We enter a group simulation, we work as a team, we carry out some objective. It’s all in the brain, like Calisthenics without the workout.”
“Not quite. You see, in Calisthenics, you’re presented with false images, but you’re still aware of your own body. In Applied Sims, you are literally receiving sensory info directly from your neural processor according to the simulation’s parameters. Applied Sims is designed to mimic the way we use neural processors to interface with machines in combat. Hooking in feels like being inside a new body. You may not remember yourself; you may only know what your character knows, depending on the parameters of the program. Some people find it frightening the first few times because it’s a total immersion experience. The emphasis is on teamwork.”
“Sounds great.”
“You say that, but I bet you’re nervous.”
“I’m really not.”
“Oh, sure you’re not.” Elliot gave him a knowing look Tom did not appreciate at all. “Now, Tom, the first time hooking in can be scary. I like to take my plebes through it personally.”
“I’ll be okay. Sir.”
But Elliot strode around to the other side of the cot. “Lean forward.”
Tom braced his hands on the edge of the mattress and dipped his head. A hand clasped his shoulder to anchor him in place. Tom clenched his jaw. Elliot was so close that he could feel hot breath on his neck.
“You can let me know if you get frightened or uncomfortable. It’s pretty common—”
“I’ll be fine,” Tom cut in. Then, “Sir.”
The wire clicked into his brain stem and the world tunneled into blackness. All sensation seeped from his limbs with a horrifying abruptness.
“That happened faster than I …” Tom’s voice blurred away mid-sentence.
The last glimpse he had through his own eyes was of the world flying downward as he keeled over.
A ND THEN T OM was not Tom.
Blinding whiteness on all sides of him. An icy tundra crushed beneath a thick gray sky. Chill wind stung at his eyes, his skin, yet it felt perfect to him, bracing.
A strange feeling pulsed through him, his muscles, his tendons. Blood, vitality, life. He bounded forward, his paws treading over the cold, hard snow, and the scents tearing at his nostrils overwhelmed him. His vision became a dim afterthought and all he could do was stand there, experiencing the tastes on the wind.
The earthy scent of friends .
A hot, rich taste of prey .
That distracted him. He thrust his muzzle up into the wind and inhaled it, the teasing, taunting scent calling to him. But there was something else.
Danger .
He thrust his muzzle against the icy ground and checked on it. An image in his head: the stale white fur of a predator, blood-crusted paws, a low roar.
Danger gone for some time now. A massive predator. Stalking across the snow. Gone now .
He followed more scents, entranced. Ice … metal … dirt … man …
Howling.
The call of his friends split the air. He hurled himself toward them without deciding to, tearing across the snowy plain, driven by an insatiable need to add to that sound. The scent of family grew stronger and richer in his nostrils and then he was among the other wolves of his pack and throwing back his head, the sound rising from deep in his throat. The wail seemed to pierce the sky above them and spread over the valley, a sense of union like he’d never known before welling inside him.
The largest and the strongest wolf charged into their midst. The tails of the other wolves flopped down submissively. Ferocious barking from the alpha, and then the alpha whipped around and charged toward that scent on the wind, toward the sweetness of prey with its fresh, pulsing blood and tender flesh. The pack became a gray surge tearing over the
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