Night Moves by Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik

few inches higher than the monks, was the head monk, Sojan Rinpoche. The man was also bald, probably seventy, and had smile wrinkles that didn't quit. Gridley could see why, after a few minutes of listening to the guru speak. He smiled a lot. At the moment, the old man was talking about some kind of Buddhist deity: "... in Sanskrit, he is called Yamantaka. In China, they call him Yen-ante-chia. In Tibet, we speak of him as Gshin-rji-gshed.
Everywhere, we know him as He Who Conquers Death, one of the Eight Terrible Ones, the drag-shed, Guardian of the Faith, and patron of the Dgelugs-pa. "He is terrible to behold, this manifestation of Man-jusri bodhisattva. Long ago, during a mighty battle in Tibet, Gshin-rji-gshed took his form to engage and defeat Yama, God of Death. He has nine heads, thirty-four arms, and sixteen feet. He is the Horror to Behold, the Mighty Terror, the Trampler of Demons.
"He is," the old man said, smiling, "not somebody you want to fuck with." Gridley did a mental double take at the last sentence. That seemed weird, coming from a Tibetan holy man. He sighed. This was the old man's scenario--if indeed he was an old man and not somebody faking it-and he didn't much care for it. Too austere. And now that he was here, he didn't really understand why he had come.
What was it that he had hoped to find?
The nurse. The nurse had told him to look this guy up. After he had ripped the VR set off and thrown it on the floor because he hadn't been able to concentrate without losing it. Oh, he could still use VR, but only in a passive, customer sort of way. He couldn't create it. He couldn't manipulate it. He would begin okay, but after a minute or two, he would drift, and the imagery failed.
A computer operative who couldn't run a computer. A VR worker who couldn't work VR. He was screwed.

His life was over.
But the nurse--she was some kind of Buddhist or something--she had given him this guy's web address, told him to check it out. He'd helped others, she'd said. Gridley had nothing to lose, so he went. But he didn't see how Gshin-rji-whateverthehellhisnamewas was going to help squat.
As if reading his mind, the old man clapped his hands once, and the monks, save for Gridley, all vanished. The room around him swirled and shifted, and he found himself sitting in a comfortable armchair facing the guru, who also sat in a chair. In place of the orange robes. Jay wore slacks, a pullover sweater, and motorcycle boots, and the old man wore jeans and a work shirt. The Tibetan's legs were crossed at the ankles, he sported Nikes, and he had that big smile again. He looked like somebody's kindly old grandfather come for a visit. "Better?" he said.
Gridley blinked.
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
"A lot of folks want the monastery imagery. It makes them feel as if they've found the real thing. That Tibet, unfortunately, only exists in the movies these days." He regarded Jay with a straight, direct gaze. "You have a problem."
"Yeah."
"Your aura is fractured."
Jesus, auras? Time to bail-"That is to say, you appear to have some difficulty concentrating. Drugs? Or a medical problem? Tumor?
Stroke?"
How the hell could he tell that? Nothing like that showed in VR! "Uh..."
"Take your time. You want to check out, come back later, that's cool." Jay shook his head.
"You don't seem like any guru I ever heard of." "You want the monastery back?"
"No, I--it's just that--" "Expectation," the old man said.

"That one is a killer.
You had a idea, an expectation of what I was supposed to be, so whenever I pop off and do something that doesn't fit, it's confusing.
And you're already confused enough, right?" "Uh, yeah, right."
"Well, we'll get to that. First things first. What shall I call you?" "Webnom or realnom?"
"Doesn't matter, just something you'll answer to." "Jay."
"Okay. Call me Saji. You came for some clarity, right?" "I--uh, I'm not sure."
Saji laughed.
"What you mean is, you didn't come for all this Buddhist bullshit, demons and Dharma and all.