I’m grateful they aren’t shooting real guns, although I’m pretty sure Billy is right about these people; they probably have their fair share of munitions in the real-world. Many sport Global logos on their clothing, which I find creepy. What would some of them pay to get their hands on real Global logo wear, like the stuff I’m forced to wear every day in the Dome?
Billy, as an elite Black Tech designer, is something of a celebrity. He signs several dozen boobs, a fact which he makes me swear not to mention to Hank.
I’m an exotic bird among these people. They all want to know about the League kidnapping, which I find myself rehashing again, and again, and again. Luckily, I’m so well-versed in Global’s retelling that I don’t have to think about it much; my mind is free to wander to more pleasant thoughts that don’t involve me being tortured and auctioned on the black market.
Near the end of the rally, I’m approached by a wiry avatar with an advanced widow’s peak and greasy black hair. He’s dressed in black leather with a face that’s pitted and seamed. I can only assume he’s going for the pre-’Fault biker look.
“Will you autograph my arm?” he asks.
“Sure.” I raise my pen, motioning for him extend his arm.
The man pushes up his black leather sleeve. I balance his wrist in one hand, resting the tip of my pen on the flesh of his avatar. A faded green tattoo adorns his inner arm. I barely glance at it as I write my name.
I’ve just formed the “S” of my name when my eyes jerk back to his tattoo.
266 is inked in flowing script. Next to the number is another tattoo of a die.
266 was the locker room number I shared with Gun in the Cube.
My attention snaps to the man’s face. He regards me with steady blue eyes.
I study his face, searching. Could it be? Could this be Gun?
“Hey, Short Stuff,” the man says at last, his voice soft.
I suck in my breath. It takes all my willpower to keep from throwing my arms around him.
“Baldy,” I whisper back, unable to peel my eyes from his face.
Silence stretches between us. There’s so much I want to say, but I don’t dare.
“I’ve missed you, Short Stuff,” he says at last. “Things aren’t the same without you around.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” My voice cracks as I struggle to hold back a surge of emotion.
“We don’t have much time. Your handler is distracted, but not for long. Finish your autograph.”
A quick glance to my left reveals Kerry trying to extricate herself from an enthusiastic woman with submachine guns for arms. She waves them under Kerry’s nose as she talks. I lean over Gun’s arm and resume writing my name.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Are they treating you well?”
“I’m okay,” I whisper back.
“I’ve been trying to find a way to speak to you for weeks, but Claudine has been hot on my trail—”
“She is?” I pause, frowning at him. I recall the day she tried to grill me about Gun, but Mr. Winn cut her off and sent her away. Has she really been tracking Gun all this time? “Mr. Winn told her not to bother with you.” All this time, I’d thought he’d been safe.
Gun shakes his head. “Long story. No time for it now. Sulan, this is really important. Can you tell me if you’ve heard anything about something called Project Renascentia?”
Beside me, Billy goes still, his conversation with a busty avatar forgotten. After a beat, he resumes his talk with her, but I sense his attention on me and Gun.
“I—”
Gun’s attention shifts, his eyes looking at something over my shoulder. He ducks, pulling me down with him.
A dart whizzes over us, embedding itself into the chest of the avatar behind Gun. The man groans and drops to the floor, unmoving.
“I have to go,” Gun says. “Watch out for Project Renascentia, Short Stuff. Stay clear of anything that has to do with it.”
There’s a moment when his blue eyes lock on mine. Then he disappears, winking out of existence as he leaves the Vex site.
I rise, looking over my shoulder. Kerry stands several feet away, eyes wide as she stares at me.
Beside her is Claudine Winn, dressed in a black, skin-tight leotard and five-inch pumps. Her eyes are thunderous. In her hand is a dart gun.
She takes three quick strides toward me, seizing my wrist with her hand. With her other hand, she grabs Billy’s wrist. The two of us are jerked out of the anarchist rally and flung into the whirling blue of the Vex browser.
23
Interrogation
Seconds later we land in a small, square Vex room. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all black. Claudine stands in front of us, hands on her hips. One stiletto taps against the floor.
“I want to know everything he said,” she says, voice icy. “Every. Last. Word.”
I swallow, fighting the desire to shrink back from her. Her black clothing blends into the walls, giving her the illusion of a disembodied head floating in space. The effect is creepy. Which is probably her intention.
For the barest second, I consider denying everything and playing dumb. But only for a second. The fire in her eyes tells me how serious my situation is.
“He—he asked me how I was doing,” I say.
“What else?” She narrows her eyes, glaring at me.
“He said he’s been trying to find a way to see me for weeks but that you—you’ve been tracking him.”
Her lips tighten. If she could grind me to dust beneath one of her shoes, I have a feeling she would.
“He said—he said you’ve been tracking him since the League auction.”
“I heard him say something to Sulan about the Renaissance,” Billy adds. “Something about Renaissance history.”
I immediately understand Billy is trying to hide the fact that Gun mentioned Project Renascentia; he’s skirting the truth, trying to give us plausible deniability. I follow Billy’s lead, chewing my lip and trying to look nervous. This isn’t difficult, considering the circumstances.
“He wanted to know if Renaissance history has been covered in any of my classes,” I say. “I was going to tell him I’m not taking classes right now, but then that dart interrupted us …”
Claudine’s face contorts. Her hand tightens around the dart gun. It’s pointed at the floor, but even so, Billy and I edge away from her. There’s no telling what sort of Black Tech it’s loaded with.
“Why—why would he go to all that trouble to ask me about a class?” I say.
Her nostrils flare. “For your information,” she says, “that young man you frolicked with in the Cube is not who he seems.”
This catches me off guard. How much does she know about the Cube?
“You didn’t really think your exploits were a secret, did you?” Her voice drips with disdain. “I made it a habit to keep tabs on the extracurricular actives of all VHS students. Your grades improved once you started your nightly romps, so I permitted them to continue. Of course I did a background check on your little friend. I never bought his supposedly Naked avatar. No one looks that good in real life.”
“What?” I stare at her. She’s lying. She must be lying.
“My techs traced his Virtual Identity to a skinny, near-sighted boy in southern California. The son of two jewelers. He wasn’t a threat. Or so I thought. Then he showed up at the League auction.” Claudine advances on us. Her avatar grows several inches, forcing us to look up at her.
Billy and I take a few steps back. We bump into the wall.
“Turns out my techs did a sloppy tracing job. His appearance at the League auction made that obvious. I brought in a new team to trace his VI. After nearly three days of hacking, they discovered an Infinity Mirror.”
Billy takes in a sharp breath. I look between Billy and Claudine, trying to remember what Hank told me about Infinity Mirrors.
In the real-world, anyone can make an infinity mirror by placing two mirrors across from each other. Object
s placed between them are reflected back and forth an infinite number of times.
In Vex, Infinity Mirrors are something hackers build to conceal their true VIs—Virtual Identities. They use code to create the effect of a real-world infinity mirror, essentially sending any would-be pursuers on a wild goose chase.
“An Infinity Mirror,” Billy says, intrigued despite himself. “That’s some talented programming.”
“It’s expensive programming,” Claudine corrects. “Your friend is either a brilliant programmer, or ridiculously wealthy. Probably both.” Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “How do you think he pulled off that hack at the Infinity Stadium? We had thirty programmers assigned to that project. Your little friend went to great lengths to circumvent our firewalls. Just to give you a makeover. Can you imagine the resources it takes to accomplish that? Why do you think he did that?”
I stare at Claudine, at a complete loss for words. Gun did it because he cares about me, I want to say, but words won’t come out. They seem a flimsy defense in light of everything she has said. How did Gun hack the Infinity Stadium firewall?
“I don’t care how brilliant he may be,” Claudine says. “He didn’t singlehandedly hack Infinity. That was not the work of a single person. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her head swivels. She pins Billy with a fierce expression.
Billy swallows, glances at me, then nods. “I know a lot of good programmers, Sulan,” he says. “That hack wasn’t the work of one person. Too complex. Too many moving parts. It had to be a team.”
I feel pieces shattering inside me. A team. Gun never talked about a tech team. He always had cool Vex toys, but I always assumed he programmed them himself.
Claudine gives me a triumphant sneer. Her avatar grows another few inches, dwarfing us. “You see, Sulan,” she says, “your so-called friend is a threat. We need to find out who he really is and why he befriended you. You need to tell me everything that passed between you two tonight. This is a Global security matter. The safety of your friends and family could depend on us discovering the true identity of the avatar you know as Gun.”
I want to plug my ears and hide my face in my arms. The avatar you know as Gun. Claudine’s words are like ice picks in my heart.
Just because he’s hiding from Global doesn’t mean his friendship isn’t real, I tell myself. He trained me. He saved me from the League. I have to believe our friendship is real.
Claudine stares at me, impatient expectation etched into the lines of her face.
“He—he had the number 266 tattooed on the arm of his avatar,” I say. “That was our locker room number in the Cube. That’s how I figured out it was him. Next time—if there’s a next time—I’ll signal Kerry in some way.”
“There will be another time,” Claudine says. “He’s gone to great lengths to maintain a connection with you. There is no reason to believe he’ll just let it go.”
I have to get into Vex and see Gun. I need to see him. There’s an explanation for all of this. There must be. When is Daruuk going to finish building the stupid modem?
“Again,” Claudine says. “Tell me again exactly how your conversation with him went. From start to finish.”
Slowly, carefully, I reconstruct the conversation. I’m careful to be authentic about everything except Project Renascentia, taking Billy’s lead and camouflaging the truth.
“I think he just misses me and wants to see how I was doing,” I say at last. “That’s all. I guess he’s been trying to see me but was too scared to come around. He knew you were … interested in him.”
Her nostrils flare again. “If all he wanted was your friendship, Sulan, he wouldn’t have so meticulously concealed his VI. Now, once again. Replay your conversation with him.”
Two more times I convey the details of my conversation with Gun. Two more times I study the events in my mind, trying to dissect the truth.
That was true friendship I saw in Gun’s eyes, wasn’t it? Claudine is just twisting things around to undermine him. She must be lying about everything else.
So what if his avatar hasn’t truly been Naked and he’s just some skinny boy somewhere out there? I don’t care. All that matters is who he is on the inside.
Gun wouldn’t have pretended to be my friend for all those months in the Cube. He wouldn’t have risked rescuing me from the League if he didn’t really care, would he?
Would he?
• • •
It’s the middle of the night by the time Claudine releases us from Vex. The stress of our interrogation has left me limp and exhausted. Riska sits in a tight ball in my lap, his ears flat against his head. His tail lashes.
Ironically, I see a gleam in Billy’s eyes after he pulls off his Vex set. His mind must be in overdrive after tonight’s events. This is probably the most fun he’s had in weeks.
Kerry regards us with bleary eyes. She opens her mouth, clearly intending to ask a question, then snaps it shut. A beat later, she summons her perky smile and says, “Well done tonight. Very well done. The crowd was very pleased with your performances.”
The two of us look at her without speaking. I’m so tired I’m half tempted to curl up in the chair and go to sleep.
Kerry produces her clipboard and consults her schedule. “Sulan, you’re due back here with Hank tomorrow morning at eleven. You’re scheduled to talk to a group of students about the importance of studying. Billy, I need you back here at nine in the morning. There’s another anti-establishment group that wants you to speak to their membership. You can both go back to the Village now. Good night.” Somehow, she manages another enthusiastic smile.
I haul my butt out of the chair, slinging Riska onto my shoulder. My brain is numb from all that’s happened tonight. It swims with clips of dialogue from Gun and Claudine.
I’ve missed you, Short Stuff.
That young man you frolicked with in the Cube is not who he seems.
Watch out for Project Renascentia.
If all he wanted was your friendship, Sulan, he wouldn’t have so meticulously concealed his VI.
It’s enough to make my head explode.
As Billy and I exit the media room, he says, “For what it’s worth, Sulan, I think Claudine brings up some valid points about your friend. Everything I’ve seen him do requires … monumental resources.” He stops, turning to look at me. He goes so far as to push aside his bangs so I can see his eyes. “There’s one fact Claudine can’t change, though. That guy, whoever he is, saved our butts from the League. Only true friends come to your rescue in a time like that.” He releases his hair, once again shielding his eyes from sight. “I just wanted to say that to you.”
“Thanks, Billy.” His words mean more than I can say.
24
Heritage Legion
I don’t say anything to Taro and Hank about Gun’s visit and Claudine’s subsequent interrogation. There’s no point. I’d get nothing but I told you so from both of them, and I don’t want to hear it.
My next handful of public interviews is all with Hank. I enter Vex each time with mixed emotions. I want to see Gun again, but I want him to avoid entanglements with Claudine. If he stays away from me, hopefully she won’t be able to find him.
Hank and I become a well-oiled machine. We have our story down. Hank shines in front of the audience. Though I’m never completely comfortable on stage, I do well enough to garner compliments from Mr. Winn and Kerry.
Claudine never says anything nice to anyone. In fact, I don’t see her speak at all, not even to Mr. Winn. At least she doesn’t grill me or Billy about Gun again. That’s a relief.
Our approval ratings soar. National awareness of Global Arms increases by twenty-six percent. Hank is by far and away the most popular of us four, which doesn’t surprise anyone considering how natural she is on stage.
When, a week later, the four of us are scheduled for a press conference together, Hank talks about it nonstop. It’s the first time since the Infinity Stadium that all four of us are slated to go into Vex
together. Taro, Billy, and I listen at the breakfast table as Hank frets the morning of our appearance.
“Kerry says the American Heritage Legion is going to present us with an award. Do you think they’re going to give us individual awards? Or will it be a group award?”
“American Heritage Legion?” I ask. “What do they represent?”
“The virtues of our country,” Billy says with a dry laugh. “Freedom, democracy, capitalism, entrepreneurial spirit, that sort of thing.”
“Who will collect the award if it’s for the group?” Hank says. “I wonder if Kerry knows how they’re going to do it. What if …”
I tune her out and concentrate on my breakfast. Riska sits on the table beside me. I feed him bits of food, eggs, a few bites of toast, and some rabbit sausage.
“Are you guys even listening to me?” Hank demands, slamming her fork down in frustration.
“You’re worried about the award,” I reply. “I think you should accept it for us.”
Hank throws up her hands. “I don’t even know why I bother with you guys.”
Billy slides an arm around her shoulders. Hank sighs and leans her head against him. We have relative peace for the rest of our meal.
A short time later, we find ourselves back in Vex. The American Heritage Legion rented a modest site for the event. It supports only several hundred avatars; anyone else interested in the event has to stream it in Vex.
We’re seated on a stage. I spot Kerry in the front row dressed in a dark blue pantsuit. Pinned to her lapel is an American flag. I don’t see Claudine anywhere.
“Where do you think Claudine is?” I whisper to Hank. “This is the first time she’s missed one of our appearances.”
Hank shrugs. “Maybe she’s sick. Her health isn’t good, you know.”
I settle back in my chair, feeling stupid. Of course Claudine’s health isn’t good. If she wasn’t the niece of Reginald Winn, she’d be dead.
Several members of the Legion give long-winded speeches about our country’s glorious roots. I zone out most of the time, idly watching the avatars in the audience. All of them portray something akin to the American spirit.
Sulan Box Set (Episodes 1-4) Page 36
