Death Dream

by Ben Bova

  Out of ingrained routine and a touch of curiosity he inspected the security log to see who else was working this Thanksgiving afternoon. The screen showed a list of names and their personnel numbers.

  Jace, of course. He just about lives in his lab, Muncrief mumbled to himself. I ought to charge him rent the way he uses the showers and all. And Smith. Joe Rucker; dumb hick has no place else to go, I guess. Why on earth did I ever let Jace talk me into hiring a one-armed, one-legged security guard?

  He saw that Dan Santorini was in the lab—well, at least he's trying to make up a little for the time he's wasted in Ohio. Muncrief's brows rose slightly when the screen showed three other names under Dan's. He's brought his whole family in here with him! The daughter too. Angie.

  He leaned back in the chair, as if afraid to touch the computer keyboard.

  I wonder—would he let her play one of the games? Good way to babysit her.

  Muncrief felt the familiar hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. As if he were going to be sick. Like a teenager trying to work up the courage to touch his date's breast.

  With a trembling finger he pecked at the keyboard. yes! She's in there playing "Green Mansions." Then he checked the other machines in use: Jace in his own lab; Dan in his office; somebody in the computer center. He remembered that Susan Santorini had taken on some computer searches for her husband and Jace. Must be her, Muncrief thought.

  There's nobody else in the building except Rucker.

  And little Angie is in the game booth. Don't do it, he warned himself. Her parents are here in the building with her. Her mother's using one of the minis in the computer center, for God's sake. If her father finds out . . .

  He sat there for almost a quarter of an hour, struggling against his common sense. He won.

  CHAPTER 32

  It was the most beautiful world she had ever been in.

  Angela walked almost on tip-toe along the soft mossy trail that wound through the lovely green forest, her arms held out in anticipation, her gauzy dress of spiderwebs soft and cool against her skin. The trees were tremendous, soaring up and up and up until their branches mingled with one another in a leafy canopy that let in just enough sunlight to make everything warm and bright down here on the ground.

  Birds called back and forth. Jeweled insects chirruped.

  The breeze was soft, caressing.

  A jaguar stepped onto the trail in front of her, its tawny coat adorned with handsome black designs. It stretched its front legs and bowed its head.

  "Hello, Angela," said the jaguar. Not surprised in the slightest at the talking jungle cat, Angela returned, "Hello. What's your name?"

  "What name would you like to give me?"

  She thought a moment. "Are you a boy cat or a girl cat?"

  "That's up to you, my dear."

  "You look like a boy cat to me," said Angela. "I'll name you Georgie."

  "Georgie the Jaguar," said the cat.

  "Can I pet you?"

  "May I pet you?" Georgie corrected. "And yes, of course. I like to be petted by pretty young ladies."

  Angela came up beside the jaguar and stroked his back, feeling the warm silkiness of his fur. The jaguar purred for her and rubbed against her legs, gently, though, so she wouldn't be knocked over. She felt the strength in the cat's smoothly rippling muscles.

  "Where are you heading?" Georgie asked.

  "I'm exploring. This forest is really very beautiful, isn't it?"

  "You mean you haven't seen your house yet?"

  "My house? No! Where is it?"

  "Right down this trail and across the stream. It's a tree house, you know, built up high where the birds make their nests."

  Angela clapped her hands with joy. "Let's go see it!"

  "Of course. Just follow me."

  The jaguar padded off along the trail and Angela followed him. Birds of every color flitted through the trees, singing so beautifully that Angie almost wanted to cry. Beetles glittered like precious stones as she hurried along the path, and she saw squirrels and deer and even an auburn-coated fox by the time she reached the bank of the swift-flowing stream.

  "How deep is the water?" Angela asked.

  "Not very," said Georgie. "Look, there's a set of stones arranged for us to cross on. You know, I don't like to get wet very much."

  "I'm learning to swim."

  "You mustn't swim in this stream," Georgie said. "There are crocodiles and alligators and piranhas and all sorts of evil things in the water."

  "Really?"

  "Every world has its dangers, Angela dear, and in this world the dangers are in the streams and rivers. As long as you are on dry land you are perfectly safe."

  "How strange," said Angela.

  The stones were broad and flat topped, although they looked wet and slippery. Georgie padded across easily. Angela was just starting to put her bare foot on the first stone when she saw an alligator on the opposite bank, sunning itself next to a huge fallen log. It was staring at her, smiling broadly with a mouth full of crooked sharp teeth.

  "Come on," Georgie called from the far bank. "Nothing can hurt you—unless you fall into the water."

  Angela stepped onto the first stone. It felt cold, slimy. The alligator's smile widened.

  "You can do it, Angela," said Georgie. "Come on."

  She hopped from one stone to the next. They were close enough together so that she could skip across them easily.

  "That's the way!" Georgie encouraged her.

  Halfway across, though, Angela glanced down into the dark, swiftly swirling water. It looked cold and menacing. There were strange shapes flickering in the darkness down there, gathering around the stones as if waiting for her to lose her balance and fall in. She saw evil little eyes glinting at her, and hard sharp teeth.

  Angela's foot slipped on the wet slithery rock and she teetered, arms windmilling.

  "Look out!" cried Georgie.

  Then she righted herself, swallowed hard, and raced across the remaining few stones to land safely on the far bank beside the jaguar.

  The alligator smiled toothily at her from beside his log. "You were lucky not to fall in the water, young lady," it said.

  Angela did not know what to answer, so she said nothing. But a chill shivered up her spine at the thought of the cold dark water and the evil things in it. She saw that the alligator's eyes were cold and cruel and watching her hungrily.

  "She's not going to be your dinner," Georgie said to the 'gator. "She's going to see her very own home up in the trees where ugly old things like you can't bother her."

  Kyle Muncrief had closed his office door and locked it. He had pulled down the blinds on his windows so that the office was cool and shadowy despite the afternoon sunshine. He had pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, where Jace had installed the VR equipment.

  Muncrief grinned to himself as he fondled the rough-textured data gloves, their wires trailing to the gray electronics box built into the drawer. Not even Vickie knows about this, he said to himself. She thinks she knows everything about me, but she doesn't know about this. If she did—

  He broke off that train of thought abruptly. The only person in the world who knew about this equipment was Jace Lowrey. Jace had built it for Muncrief, Jace had programmed the system and was continuing to refine it. He bitches about it and worries out loud about what'll happen if Santorini finds out about it, but actually Jace gets off on it. Not the way I do, of course, but he practically creams his pants over this.

  Muncrief smiled inwardly. Of course, not even Jace knows everything I can do. That's the secret of success, Muncrief reminded himself. Never let the right hand know what the left hand is doing. Jace knows some of it. Vickie knows some of it. Neither one of them knows it all and as long as they don't compare notes they won't find out. How much does Smith know? That's the real problem. That's what I need Vickie to find out for me.

  He turned his swivel chair around and bent down to slide open the cabinet behind his desk. Th
e helmet was there, bright and glistening and smooth to the touch. Warm, almost as if it were alive. Muncrief ran his hands across its warm smooth curving surface. He raised the helmet in both hands, then lowered it onto his head like Napoleon crowning himself. He pulled the data gloves on, flexed his fingers inside them, admired the craftsmanship of their design, their manufacture. Then he bent down again and powered up the electronics.

  Finally he leaned back in his comfortable high-backed leather chair and slid the visor down over his face. He knew he should try to relax, but every nerve in his body was tingling with anticipation.

  There were delicious-looking fruits hanging from the trees along the trail, but when Angela picked a russet-golden one and tried to eat it, it turned out to have no taste at all. It was like biting into air.

  "You don't need to eat anything here," said Georgie, padding along beside her. "This is a land to look at and listen to, not to taste."

  Tossing the tasteless fruit into the bushes, Angela asked, "Would the alligator have tasted anything if he had eaten me?"

  "I suppose so," the jaguar replied. "I imagine you would taste absolutely delicious."

  "H'mp!"

  They walked on through the delightful forest for what seemed like hours.

  "When do we get to my tree house?" Angela asked.

  "It's just around the bend in the trail."

  Angela broke into a happy run and when she rounded the bend in the trail, sure enough, there was a house high up in the trees, with windows and a slanting roof of palm fronds and even a porch in front of its door. Long looping vines hung from the trees and flowers blossomed everywhere, red and gold and brightest blue and purple and sunshine yellow.

  "It's beautiful!" said Angela.

  The house seemed to be made of living branches and vines, green and leafy, graceful yet strong. And it looked quite large to Angela, more like a palace than an ordinary house.

  "How do I get up to it?" she asked, craning her neck as she stood near the base of the huge old tree.

  "Use the elevator," said Georgie.

  And Angela saw that amidst the vines hanging from the tree's upper branches there was a wooden platform with a railing all around it. She heard the powerful trumpeting of an elephant, and sure enough a big gray elephant stepped out of the jungle foliage as daintily as a ballerina, spread its huge ears and lifted its trunk in greeting.

  Laughing, Angela skipped onto the elevator platform and gripped its railing. The elephant grasped a particular liana in its trunk and started backing away. The platform rose swiftly into the air and in no time at all Angela was stepping onto the front porch of her very own tree house.

  "What about you?" she called down to Georgie. "Won't you come up?"

  "I'm not allowed to," the jaguar called back. "Don't worry, I'll be down here waiting for you. You won't be lonely up there, I promise you."

  "Hello, Angela darling."

  She whirled and saw a handsome young prince standing in the doorway smiling at her. He was tall and slim and wore a soft white shirt and skin-tight pants with a wide leather belt, highly polished leather boots and a long velvet cape so deeply violet that it seemed to glow. He looked a little like the young patriot she had met at Lexington. Yet when he smiled he almost looked like her father did when he wasn't too busy to pay attention to her, gentle and strong and loving. His eyes were like Daddy's too, she thought: deep, warm brown.

  Angela felt her heart beating fast.

  "I've been waiting for you for a long time," the prince said. But his voice was not a young man's voice, she realized. It was a voice she had heard before: Uncle Kyle's.

  "Are you Uncle Kyle?" she asked, her own voice trembling.

  "Is that who you want me to be?"

  "No!"

  "I'm whoever you want, Angela darling. I'm your dream prince. The only reason I'm here is to make you happy."

  Angela realized she felt a little afraid of all this. "Could—could you change your voice?" she asked.

  The prince looked very sad. "Is that what you truly want, Angela?"

  "Yes. Please."

  For a long moment the prince simply stood there before her, smiling sadly. Then at last he spoke again. "All right. This is your world, Angela, and whatever you ask for in it you shall have." His voice was young now, rich and soft and matching his appearance perfectly.

  "Oh, thank you," said Angela, feeling truly grateful. Yet she still had the feeling that somewhere in this delicate green world she was being watched by eyes as coldly glittering as the alligator's, by someone whose teeth were waiting to sink into her flesh.

  Muncrief yanked the helmet off his head and mopped his face with a handful of tissues. You came on too strong, you damned idiot! he raged at himself. You scared her again.

  He tugged off the data groves, turned off the electronics box, stored everything back where it belonged, shut the cabinet and drawer, locked them both and then collapsed into a tearful blubbering mess, arms on his desktop, head in his arms, sobbing softly to himself.

  She doesn't love me. She's afraid of me. All I've done for her and she doesn't care about me at all. The little bitch. But she will, he vowed to himself. She will love me. I'll make her love me.

  CHAPTER 33

  Susan was sitting in the computer center with Philip on her lap. The desktop machine at her side was still searching for the sports medicine reports that Dan had asked for. The search had slowed down considerably. She had gone through NREN and had the computer double check the Library of Congress files. Now the program was seeking out smaller data banks, oddball medical journals and popular magazine articles. Even newspaper items.

  There's enough material here to keep Dan reading for a year, Susan thought as she tickled her baby's tummy. Philip giggled and hiccupped happily. He'll have to set up a program to scan the whole file by key words, once he figures out which key words he's really interested in.

  Dan stuck his head through the open doorway.

  "Working hard, I see."

  She gave him a mock frown. "The computer's working. I'm keeping an eye on it. And doing some mothering at the same time."

  He made a tight grin. "Angie's in the VR booth up the hall. Give me a call when she's finished the game she's playing."

  "How will I know—"

  Dan pointed to one of the minis, a few desks up the line from where Susan was sitting. "That's the machine running the program. when it beeps and its lights go out, the program's over."

  She nodded.

  "Pretty easy, having the computer do all the work for you," he teased.

  "I'm thinking."

  "About what?"

  "About how to track down all the files Jace has accessed. How far back do you want me to go?"

  "To the year one."

  "AD or BC?"

  With a shrug, "Take your pick. I don't want to make it too hard on you."

  "The hell you don't."

  Dan's grin turned sheepish. "Okay, okay. I've got to get back to my own work. Give me a call when Angie's program is over."

  "In your office?"

  "Or down at Jace's lab."

  He left and Susan could hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway. But as she sat in the curved little typist's chair holding her baby in her arms, Susan wondered how she could possibly track down Jace's requests for data from all the information services in the country.

  Then one of the minis beeped. The noise made her look up. No, it wasn't the machine Angie was using for her VR game; that one was still humming softly to itself. But the one next to it had beeped to life.

  Curious, Susan carried Philip on one hip as she walked to the blinking, chugging computer.

  She bent over the keyboard of Angie's machine and tapped out a query in yellow letters against the display screen's pale blue background: PGM RNG?

  GRN MAN 1.0, answered the display screen. The "Green Mansions" game, version 1.0.

  Okay. Susan shifted Phil's weight slightly and turned to the next machine.

/>   PGM RNG?

  ACCESS RESTRICTED. ENTER ACCESS CODE.

  She felt her teeth clenching. Susan walked back to the playpen and deposited Philip in it. He started to squawk but she handed him a squeeze toy that honked like a duck. That seemed to satisfy him for the moment. Rushing back to Angie's machine, she sat in its chair and typed: LIST ALL PGMS RNG

  GRN MAN 1.0

  "So you won't talk, eh?" Susan muttered. Computers are like very obedient children, she knew. They will do exactly what you tell them to. But not a jot more than you tell them.

  LIST ALL GRN MAN PGMS

  The list was very short: GRN MAN 1.0

  GRN MAN 1.5

  There's another version of the game Angela is playing! Susan felt neither triumph nor vindication; only the sudden shock of realization that all her fears were true.

  She typed, CDGRN MAN 1.5

  ACCESS RESTRICTED. ENTER ACCESS CODE

  She typed, GRN MAN 1.5 IN USE? Y/N

  Y

  Susan felt a constriction in her chest. The other version of "Green Mansions" was in use. Angie was playing with 1.0 but somebody else was using 1.5. Breathing heavily, she typed, LIST ALL NEPTUNES KINGDOM PGMS

  NOT FOUND

  Damn! The program's listed under some abbreviation, she realized. It took her four tries before she hit it:

  LIST ALL NPT KGM PGMS

  NPT KGM 1.0

  NPT KGM 1.5

  There's another version of the game! Despite what Vickie said, there is another version of the "Neptune's Kingdom" game, god damn it! There must be alternate version of all the games. And somebody's using the second version of "Green Mansions" right now, while Angie's playing the regular version. That's how Angie keeps seeing people she knows in the games; somebody's injecting himself into her games!

  She scooped up Philip again and went racing down the hallway toward the VR booth. peering through the darkened glass of its door, she saw Angela sitting back in the chair, visor over her face. Susan could just make out her daughter's lips below the edge of the mirror, smiling faintly. Her hands twitched now and then inside the data gloves.