more ridiculous question. “That’s not how this works. We can’t act like we know what’s going on. We’ve got a lot of teams working on this, and we’ll just have to hope one of you makes it in. Until you do, we can’t help.”
“And what if we get killed?” Michael asked. “Or have our Auras erased, like what happened to Ronika?”
The little man smiled for the first time since they’d met. “Be vigilant. There’s something about Kaine that’s… fishy. That’s all I can say.”
And with that he turned and started walking down the alley.
5
Michael stood there by the Dumpster until the agent had disappeared around the corner.
What a strange little man
, he thought again, and finally let out the snicker that’d been building inside, probably from stress more than anything. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed or even felt good. The day brightened ever so slightly.
He turned to head home but had only made it halfway down the alley when a sudden pain lanced his skull. It was so powerful he grabbed his head and dropped to his knees. He was barely aware of his groans echoing off the canyon-like walls of the alley.
The pain was far worse than what he’d felt lying in bed after being attacked by the KillSims. It pulsed with every heartbeat. With his eyes squeezed tight, he crawled blindly to the side of the alley until he felt the wall, then sat with his back against it, rubbing his temples. Slowly, he tried to open his eyes, but the brightness of the day sent a fresh wave of agony through his head. And something about where he was didn’t seem right. He squinted, trying to figure out what was off.
The lane before him quivered and rippled as if it had been turned into a river of gray oil. The Dumpsters to his right floated up into the air and spun in circles. Flashes and images of bodies kept appearing and disappearing all around him. The buildings that bordered the alley were askew, leaning in impossible directions, defying physics. The sky had turned a horrible purple color, bruised and splotchy with dark red clouds. Panicked, Michael squeezed his eyes shut and curled up into a ball on the pavement, begging for the episode to end.
And a few seconds later it did. The pain in his head just stopped. There was no lingering ache. It was just… gone, like it had never happened.
Relieved but wary, he opened his eyes to see that everything was back to normal. Still shaky, he climbed to his feet and looked up and down the alley. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
The only thing Michael could do was continue what he’d been doing moments before. Once again, he started down the alley toward home, this time with one scary thought in his mind: That KillSim had done something to him. Something terrible.
6
When Michael got home, he went straight to his room and flipped on his NetScreen. A thought had occurred to him on his walk back—even before he talked to his friends about what had just happened, he needed to find out what had become of Ronika in real life after the KillSim attack.
It took him almost two hours to put all the pieces together. And it wasn’t pretty.
Ronika was obviously not the woman’s real name. And being in her position, running a club like the Black and Blue inside the VirtNet, she would’ve done everything in her power to make sure people didn’t find out who she was in the Wake. But after digging through every last NewsBop, running dates and times, and comparing them to when he and his friends had been at the club, Michael was able to build a plausible story.
There was a woman in Connecticut named Wilhelma Harris whose job was to oversee the firewall security for a gaming software development firm Michael had never heard of in New York City. Her job description, and research on her lifestyle, both pointed to the fact that she was almost always in the Sleep and had few friends or family in the real world. This same woman had been found by police wandering the streets
“And what if we get killed?” Michael asked. “Or have our Auras erased, like what happened to Ronika?”
The little man smiled for the first time since they’d met. “Be vigilant. There’s something about Kaine that’s… fishy. That’s all I can say.”
And with that he turned and started walking down the alley.
5
Michael stood there by the Dumpster until the agent had disappeared around the corner.
What a strange little man
, he thought again, and finally let out the snicker that’d been building inside, probably from stress more than anything. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed or even felt good. The day brightened ever so slightly.
He turned to head home but had only made it halfway down the alley when a sudden pain lanced his skull. It was so powerful he grabbed his head and dropped to his knees. He was barely aware of his groans echoing off the canyon-like walls of the alley.
The pain was far worse than what he’d felt lying in bed after being attacked by the KillSims. It pulsed with every heartbeat. With his eyes squeezed tight, he crawled blindly to the side of the alley until he felt the wall, then sat with his back against it, rubbing his temples. Slowly, he tried to open his eyes, but the brightness of the day sent a fresh wave of agony through his head. And something about where he was didn’t seem right. He squinted, trying to figure out what was off.
The lane before him quivered and rippled as if it had been turned into a river of gray oil. The Dumpsters to his right floated up into the air and spun in circles. Flashes and images of bodies kept appearing and disappearing all around him. The buildings that bordered the alley were askew, leaning in impossible directions, defying physics. The sky had turned a horrible purple color, bruised and splotchy with dark red clouds. Panicked, Michael squeezed his eyes shut and curled up into a ball on the pavement, begging for the episode to end.
And a few seconds later it did. The pain in his head just stopped. There was no lingering ache. It was just… gone, like it had never happened.
Relieved but wary, he opened his eyes to see that everything was back to normal. Still shaky, he climbed to his feet and looked up and down the alley. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
The only thing Michael could do was continue what he’d been doing moments before. Once again, he started down the alley toward home, this time with one scary thought in his mind: That KillSim had done something to him. Something terrible.
6
When Michael got home, he went straight to his room and flipped on his NetScreen. A thought had occurred to him on his walk back—even before he talked to his friends about what had just happened, he needed to find out what had become of Ronika in real life after the KillSim attack.
It took him almost two hours to put all the pieces together. And it wasn’t pretty.
Ronika was obviously not the woman’s real name. And being in her position, running a club like the Black and Blue inside the VirtNet, she would’ve done everything in her power to make sure people didn’t find out who she was in the Wake. But after digging through every last NewsBop, running dates and times, and comparing them to when he and his friends had been at the club, Michael was able to build a plausible story.
There was a woman in Connecticut named Wilhelma Harris whose job was to oversee the firewall security for a gaming software development firm Michael had never heard of in New York City. Her job description, and research on her lifestyle, both pointed to the fact that she was almost always in the Sleep and had few friends or family in the real world. This same woman had been found by police wandering the streets
Similar Books
