The Spy Is Cast

by Diane Henders

  “I… I couldn’t do it at first. I just poked you, a little bit, and nothing happened.” He ran a shaking hand over his eyes. “And then I thought about what you said… if your life was at stake. And I poked you harder… And then you fell off the chair and started screaming and thrashing and I couldn’t…” he stopped and covered his face.

  “It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t even feel the pinprick. But I guess this is just what happens to me when I get dragged out of the network.” I hauled myself shakily to my feet and reached down to give Spider a hand up from where he still knelt. “Well, we can consider that a failure. Lucky these labs are soundproof.”

  Spider dropped into his chair and we stared at each other. “Now what?” he quavered. “You can’t go out there unless we figure something out. And I don’t ever want to see you suffer like that, ever again.” He shuddered, his eyes still dark with distress.

  I grimaced. “Wouldn’t be high on my list of things to do, either. Is there some way you can send a signal into the network?” Then I answered my own question. “No. Dammit, that won’t work. Not if somebody else is using the network at the time.”

  We thought some more. I made fists in my hair and tugged irritably. There had to be a way. Pulling me out of the network obviously wouldn’t work. That meant I somehow needed to receive a signal when I was inside the network so I could step out under my own power. But any signal would be audible or visible to anyone else who might happen to be inside the network. Think, think, dammit!

  I looked up slowly. “Hey, Spider, how does this circuitry work to access the network?”

  He launched into a complicated technical description. I caught about every third word.

  I waved my hand to stem the tide. “Hold on. Is it transmitting a data signal? Is that what keeps me logged into the network as long as I choose to stay there?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if we could weaken the signal? Not break it completely, just weaken it? Kind of like dimming the lights. That would signal me, but nobody else in the network.”

  His brows drew together in concentration. “It’s digital, not analog. You can’t really ‘dim’ it. But… some EMI interference maybe.” He swivelled in his chair and began to dig through the plastic bins mounted above the workbench.

  “Transformer?” he muttered as he scrounged. “No, too bulky, too much power draw…” He continued to mumble to himself and excavate bins. “Hold on, how about this?” He extracted a small device from the heap. “Hand me your watch.”

  I handed it over and he bent over the bench, engrossed. He worked steadily for some time with his tiny tools and soldering pen, fiddling and testing with his multimeter probes.

  Finally, he straightened. “Okay, I’ve rigged this up so it generates a variable-strength EMI pulse. The only problem is, I don’t know how much of a pulse we’ll need for it to be noticeable to you without kicking you out entirely.”

  I shrugged resignation. “I guess we’ll just have to try it and see.”

  “No. There has to be another way.” Horror reflected in his eyes.

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  After a short silence, he drew in a shaky breath. “You’re right. Okay. This device will have to be held right against your watch to affect the key inside. I’ll set it to the lowest possible strength. You go into the network, and I’ll send a pulse. If you don’t notice it in, let’s say, fifteen seconds, I’ll increase the strength and try it again. And so on.”

  I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the ache. “Okay. Here goes.” I stepped into the network and hovered tensely, counting the seconds. My nerves stretched tighter when nothing happened. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then another.

  Please let this work.

  Minutes dragged past. How much of an incremental increase was Spider using, for shit’s sake? I paced, tension mounting.

  There was a sudden blip in the sim, a barely noticeable fading. A small, sharp pain darted behind my eyes and vanished as quickly as it had come. Knowing Spider was watching the monitor, I grinned and gave a thumbs-up before stepping out of the portal and back into my aching head.

  I groaned and ground my teeth, holding my skull together with both hands. When I straightened at last, Spider was beaming.

  “It worked!”

  I cracked my neck, grimacing. “Fabulous. Let’s do some more tests at that intensity. I’ll go in again. Watch me on the monitors. Send a pulse at random intervals. I’ll give you a thumbs-up whenever I notice anything. If it works predictably, we’re all set.” He nodded eagerly, and I stepped into the void again with a sigh.

  Some time later, I squinted painfully up at Spider. “I counted a total of twelve signals. How did I do?”

  He grinned, elation sparkling in his eyes. “Perfect. You were right on with each one. A hundred percent accuracy. I think we’re there.”

  “Thank God.” I slumped over, propping my head in my hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I whined softly.

  “You don’t have to,” he said, sounding bewildered. “That worked fine. We’re done.”

  “No. I’m not done yet.” I tenderly massaged my temples. “I need to go in and try something else.”

  “Why?”

  I met his eyes. “Because I’m scared shitless of going back in and getting recognized.” I dropped my face into my hands again. “I’m such a chickenshit.”

  “Aydan, you’re not a chickenshit. You’re the bravest person I know.” I looked up as he turned pink. “I can’t believe you keep doing this. After what you went through before. And when it hurts you so much.”

  “Thanks, Spider. I wish I felt brave.” I cracked my neck again and sat up straight. “Okay. This might look weird on the monitors. Don’t worry.” I considered for a moment. “Or it might just look like me stepping into the network. I don’t know. I’m going to mess around for a while. I’ll come out in ten minutes. Or less. Watch the monitors for every detail.”

  His forehead creased in confusion. “Okay. What are you going to do?”

  I gave him a half-smile. “Wait and see.”

  I stepped into the void again, concentrating on being invisible. What the hell, it was a simulation. Why couldn’t it work? I stood still for a few moments, looking down at where my body should be. Nothing but white void.

  I walked around cautiously and waved a hand in front of my face. Nothing. My heart beat a little faster. This might work.

  I created a mirror in the sim and walked in front of it. Still nothing.

  Grinning, I conjured up a sofa and chair and sat down in the chair, watching the mirror. The chair’s cushion compressed, but there was no sign of me. I got up again and pushed the chair over a few feet. That worked fine. Next test.

  What would happen if I also imagined myself insubstantial? I turned back to the chair and passed my hand through it. Then I walked through it. No sensation of contact at all. The chair remained stationary. I turned back to it and gave it an intentional push. It moved cooperatively over a few inches.

  Ha! I could interact with my own constructs any way I wanted.

  What if…? I hovered weightlessly about eight feet above the furniture and floated effortlessly around the perimeter. Better and better. And it was far easier to maintain. Being invisible was almost as easy as being myself.

  “Okay,” I spoke out loud. “Spider, this is an audio test. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I floated through the portal. Pain crashed through my head again, and I couldn’t even summon up enough energy to swear. I wrapped my arms over my head and groaned until it eased. When I opened my eyes, Spider was squatting in front of my chair, gazing at me anxiously.

  “Are you okay? What was that?”

  “Let me look at the data record,” I croaked, dragging my chair over.

  He gave me another worried look before stepping over to run the record. A smile spread across my face as the video progressed. Furniture moved of its own accord. There was complete sil
ence except for the scraping of the furniture until the very end when my voice spoke out of nothingness.

  I pumped my fist. “Yes!” I turned to meet Spider’s baffled gaze. “That was me, being invisible!”

  His jaw dropped. “Get out of here. Really?” He ran the video again, scrutinizing the monitor. “You were in there the whole time? How cool is that?”

  “That is cooler than cool, my friend,” I said smugly. Then I sobered. “One last test. I need somebody to be in the network with me while I do that. I want to be really, really sure. Because this could backfire in a really bad way.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll come in with you.”

  “That would be good, because now you know what to expect. But I also need somebody in there who doesn’t suspect anything is going on. Just to see if there’s any difference in what you observe. Is Mike Connor working today?”

  Spider hunched over the keyboard to check his records. “No.”

  “Shit. Who else could we use?”

  “John Smith is the only other person with high enough security clearances.”

  “Shit!” I scowled, tried to think of an alternative, and came up empty. “Well, it can’t be helped. I need this test. Can you call him?”

  “Is that a good idea? Didn’t he attack you the last time you were in the network together?”

  “Yes, but now he knows which side I’m on. I don’t think that’ll happen again. And you’ll be there.”

  I was also reasonably sure it wouldn’t happen again because I’d laid a pretty good virtual beating on Smith after that last little episode. I really didn’t think he’d take a chance on pissing me off again, inside or outside the network.

  “Okay.” Spider picked up the phone. After several minutes of coaxing, he didn’t seem to be making much progress. Finally he straightened and used an authoritative tone I hadn’t heard before. “No. Not acceptable. This is time-critical and mission-critical. Get down here. Now.” He hung up the phone firmly. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Nicely done. Very assertive.”

  He raised a humorous eyebrow. “It’s the beard.”

  Smith duly arrived about five minutes later. His unwashed stench preceded him as he came through the door. God, lucky thing this place was well-ventilated. I breathed shallowly.

  Spider briefed him, using the same decisive tones as before. “We’re conducting some specialized testing. We need you to step inside the portal and remain there. Observe and record every single thing. Sound, sight, smell, sensation, everything. I’ll come in with you. Aydan will conduct the tests.”

  Smith shot me a look of barely concealed alarm. “I… don’t know if I’m the right person for this…”

  “You’re the only person available,” I growled. He didn’t look reassured at my tone, and I relented and explained. “The session will be recorded. From your standpoint, very little will happen. That’s why we need you to be very focused on your observation.”

  “All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “How long will this take?”

  “Not more than ten minutes.” I looked from him to Spider. “Let’s go.”

  I watched the monitors until the two men appeared in the portal. The fixed stares on their real-world bodies in the lab reassured me all was going according to plan thus far. Time to rock and roll.

  I stepped invisibly into their network simulation, going for silent and insubstantial. Just to be on the safe side, I drifted above their heads while they stood scanning the void.

  “What are we looking for?” Smith whispered.

  Spider shushed him impatiently. “Just watch. And listen.”

  I drifted over to place my lips right next to Spider’s ear. “Spider,” I breathed as quietly as possible. He jerked in shock, his head snapping around to search for the source of the sound. The side of his face connected solidly with my invisible nose. He let out a yelp and jerked back while I did my best to muffle my involuntary grunt of pain.

  Smith stared at him. “What?”

  “Shhh,” Spider shushed him again.

  I floated up ten feet or so and spoke. “This is an audio test. If you can hear me, point toward the source of the sound.” Both men’s heads swivelled, and both of them pointed upward at me. Hmmm. I concentrated on putting my voice somewhere else. “Where is the sound source now?” They both wheeled around, pointing across the void at shoulder height.

  Excellent. And safer than whispering in someone’s ear.

  I created two chairs. “Sit down.”

  Smith glanced over at Spider. “Did you do that?”

  Spider shook his head, frowning, and motioned to Smith to sit.

  One more test. I drifted reluctantly toward Smith’s smelly avatar. Focusing on one of the lank strands of hair draped over his collar, I carefully reached out my invisible fingers. This was harder than I thought. I couldn’t see how close I was.

  Concentrating on being insubstantial, I inched my hand forward. The problem was I wouldn’t know whether it was working until my virtual hand was halfway through his virtual head. I nobly resisted the urge to just slap him upside the head and see if my hand went through. If it didn’t, oh well.

  I muffled a snicker and refocused. And touched the lock of hair with my fingertips. It moved slightly and Smith absently scratched his head, still staring around the void.

  Shit. I’d been afraid that might happen. Despite my efforts at being insubstantial, I was still physically interacting with other avatars.

  I drew back. “Spider, could you please create a chair?” Both men jerked around in their chairs to look behind them, but they obviously couldn’t see me. After a second, another chair appeared in the void. I drifted over to it and tentatively reached out my hand. It passed through the chair like vapour. Good. Then I gave it a push, and it slid over several inches. Perfect. I could control my interactions with all constructs, regardless of who created them.

  I threw my voice over beside Spider’s ear again. “Spider,” I whispered. “I’m going to touch your shoulder. Try not to react.” He stared tensely straight ahead. I tried one more time for insubstantial. I misjudged the distance, and my hand dropped heavily on his shoulder.

  He jumped. “Sorry,” he said immediately.

  “What?” Smith regarded him with unease.

  I moved quickly away. “Thank you, gentlemen,” I projected from in front of them. “That’s all I need. Please wait here for two minutes, and then exit the network.” They both nodded understanding, and I stepped through the portal.

  Knowing I wouldn’t have an audience, I let it all hang out, groaning and swearing and pounding my fist on the table. As the pain subsided, I straightened slowly, trying to look nonchalant. A few seconds later, Spider and Smith blinked and sat up, too, as they left the network and came back to the real world.

  “What was that about?” Smith demanded.

  “Just some tests. Let’s run the data record back, and you can tell me what you observed.”

  Spider brought up the record and we reviewed it in slow-motion. Smith had little to add to what was visible on the monitor. He apparently hadn’t heard or seen me except when I spoke aloud. He hadn’t even consciously noticed me touching his hair.

  When the record ended, I turned to Smith. “Thank you. That’s all I needed.”

  “Are you going to share your findings?”

  “Not at the moment. I need to do some more analysis,” I lied.

  Smith looked frustrated, but he got up and left without further comment.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” Spider demanded when we were alone again.

  “Mostly sheer bloody-mindedness,” I admitted. “But also partly because there’s a chance I might need an uninformed test participant later.” I looked at my watch. “Crap! We’ve spent far too long here. I’ve got to get going.”

  Spider handed me the small EMI generator. “Here’s your warning system. If for some reason you need to increase the intensity, give this screw a
quarter-turn.” He indicated a tiny screw on the side.

  “I hope this works.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  Chapter 18

  It was eight-thirty A.M. by the time I dragged my aching self back into my car. Tension wound up in my shoulders. I was still at least three hours away from any productive action. If Harchman was torturing some poor soul in his network, help was a long way away.

  Nightmare memories shrieked at the edges of my mind and I pushed them away, steering my car to the Melted Spoon with shaking hands. I grabbed a toasted bagel to go and bolted it down while I drove home.

  Back at the farm, I hurriedly packed several days’ changes of clothes into my backpack and excavated my riding leathers from the depths of my hall closet. The pants and jacket fit a lot more snugly than they had ten years earlier but I could still squeeze into them, and the high-quality leather would protect me from some road rash if worse came to worst.

  Glancing at my watch, I threw some snacks, orange juice boxes, and my water bottle into the backpack as well. Then I locked up the house and hit the road worrying.

  By the time I parked at the motorcycle dealership at the south end of Calgary over two hours later, I was exhausted. My head and shoulders ached with stress. Something large and anxious flapped spiky wings in my stomach.

  I got stiffly out of the car and stretched, shaking out the kinks before I squared my shoulders and walked in.

  I had no idea what arrangements Kane had made, but apparently everything was well in hand. A helpful man fitted me with a top-quality full-face helmet and ushered me to the parking lot where a Honda Shadow lounged beside the building. He handed over the key and showed me a space in their fenced compound where I could leave my car. Then he mercifully left me to my own devices.

  I jittered beside the motorcycle for a few minutes, looking it over. I’d ridden my dirt bike quite a bit in the past couple of months, so I was confident in my riding skills. I was just afraid of everybody else’s driving skills.

  Finally, I sighed and took my backpack into the washroom, where I changed into my thinnest gym shorts and a tank top. I wriggled into my leathers and creaked my way back out to the bike.