by M. J. Scott
Our descent ended and the doors slid silently apart, delivering us into a sterile white room. Damon immediately headed for another set of doors on the far side of the room and I followed. The skin on the back of my neck prickled slightly, like I was being watched. I scanned the room discreetly, but I couldn't spot any security cameras.
They had to be there. If this was the heart of Riley Arts R&D, then the security would probably put the Pentagon to shame. Which meant I probably had zero chance of spotting anything.
"You haven't worked with virtual reality systems before, have you?" Damon asked as he put his palm against the scan. The door didn't slide back immediately; instead, he had to submit to an iris scan and speak into the lock before it opened.
Definitely tight security.
I wasn't sure why he was asking. I had no doubts whoever he'd had investigating me had filled him in on every tiny detail of my career. "No. But I don't necessarily have to be familiar with the industry to understand the programming," I pointed out.
Code was code was code.
Sure, function and language varied. And every house that produced its own software had its own quirks and idiosyncrasies. But I'd never met a system I couldn't get along with.
"You've played our games though?"
"Yes. On a CX50 deck, mostly." Nat's home system. Formerly her pride and joy, but she was saving now for the latest generation chip system. I had no desire to try gaming on a chip interface. Good old sensor headsets were fine with me.
"You'll like this, then."
I made a noncommittal noise as we moved down a blank white corridor. I'd never played a game that could entice me to spend the kind of time serious gamers did immersed in an electronic world. But Damon didn't have to know that.
So I held my tongue as we walked. The light was bright, coming from banks set into the ceiling and high on the walls, and the air didn't have the sterile air-conditioned smell that a lot of office buildings had, but I still knew I was somewhere below the earth. Quite a way.
Since the Big One, I'd never been entirely comfortable with being underground. Intellectually I knew I was probably in more danger out in the open than in a basement, but underground made me feel cornered. Made me think of my granddad and all the other people trapped by the bridges or the countless building collapses.
Made me determined to be cremated and have my ashes scattered to the winds rather than spend all time buried deep in earth.
Here, where I had no doubt no expense had been spared in making the buildings as quake-proof as possible, I still didn't like it.
Or maybe the churn in my stomach was just nerves about what I was getting myself into taking this job.
Damon did the palm/scan/speak combo again when we came to the end of the corridor, and this time the doors slid back to reveal a very different room.
It kind of looked like there'd been a three-way collision between a wizard's cave, a robot factory, and a VR club.
The right-hand wall was a series of huge screens, each fronted by a number of what looked like very expensive recliners but what were in fact very expensive game chairs. I recognized them from all the times Nat had spent drooling over them online.
They had the familiar ports for headset jacks, but also the wrist ports jutting up near the end of the arms for chip connections. I'd never liked wrist ports—they looked too much like expensive manacles, trapping the gamer to the chair—but they didn't seem to bother most people. And I didn't have a chip, so I didn't have to use them.
Three of the chairs were occupied, the screens in front of them showing what the occupants were seeing. The other screens held static images. None of them seemed much like a game to me. Some of them had no background and figures that looked more like wire skeletons than anything resembling a person. Some had a single element like a rock or a flower or, in one case, a bright blue tabby cat.
"Scenes in development," Damon said. He squinted at one of the screens, where a pink furry blob was bouncing around a forest that looked as though the trees were made of different kinds of candy. "Or they're just goofing around."
I smiled. The detail on the pink furry thing was impressive. Individual tufts of fur waved in different directions with each bounce, and the gleeful expression on its little pink face was seriously cute. I didn’t know much about VR and game animation, but the little critter had obviously taken some serious effort. Hardly goofing off.
"Do you want to try a game? See what you're here to help with?"
"One of those?" I nodded at the pink thing.
"No, the game in question."
My brows shot up. "The one that's maybe sending people crazy?"
"Ah, no. A slightly earlier version. One these folks have been working on for months with no side effects." He stopped as a guy wearing fishing waders and a green-and-yellow plaid shirt zoomed by on hoverblades. "Well, none outside the usual game designer nuttiness, at least."
He looked almost indulgent.
Which I definitely preferred to the whole I’m-in-charge vibe he'd been projecting at the club. Damon Riley on his home turf was far more likeable.
And he was offering me a sneak peek at the latest Righteous game. I might not be a total gamefreak like Nat, but I’d have to be a complete Luddite to turn down that chance.
"Okay, I'm game," I said, then winced. "No pun intended."
"I figured," he said with another smile. He waved at a group of guys huddled over a bank of monitors in the middle of the room.
One of them, short and thin with nuclear orange hair that clashed with the purple face paint he wore, bounded over.
"Can we set Maggie here up to look at Archangel?" Damon asked.
"Sure thing."
Before I had a chance to change my mind, he and Damon bundled me over to one of the vacant recliners and made me sit.
"You know how to use this?" Purple boy passed me the headset after a quick glance at my chipless wrist. He pressed a button and the wrist port sank into the arm of the chair, out of sight.
I nodded. "I think I've got it."
"Let me," Damon said and lifted the headset out of my hands. "Lie back."
I obeyed, and he smoothed the contact filaments across my forehead and onto my temples before lowering the lenses over my eyes.
I tried to ignore the fact that his touch made my pulse bump.
"Thanks," I managed as he smoothed another set of filaments over the backs of each of my hands.
"Put your left hand on the armrest," Damon instructed. "Standard button config. The big one's your quick release."
The virtual reality equivalent of a safe word. I nodded, letting my vision adjust to the soothing swirling patterns projected on the lenses.
"Otherwise, move—or think of moving—and the avatar moves with you."
"I have done this before," I said.
"Not quite like this." He sounded smug. "Ready?"
I nodded and the swirling patterns vanished, leaving me standing on the banks of a river in fading light. The rapid transition made me jump. The other games I'd played had eased in more slowly.
The river was high and flowing fast. The far side of the bank was lined with impenetrable trees, dark and somehow menacing.
I turned slowly, getting my bearings. Behind me stood a sparser row of smaller trees, not nearly as intimidating. I could even see a faint path, as though I'd broken my way through the undergrowth to reach the river rather than following the banks.
I finished my circle. River. River banks. Trees. That was it. I hadn't spotted anything living. Or rather, anything living and big enough to be a game opponent. Birds flitted above, darting in and out of branches, and the odd bug hummed through the air around me, doing whatever bugs did.
It felt completely real. Apart from the lack of smell.
Smell was the one thing they couldn't do with a headset. Nat had told me the chips gave you scent, but I found it hard to believe.
A breeze rippled the leaves, the air cool against my face. I mov
ed closer to the river, curious to see what body I wore.
The path to the river grew convincingly slick under my feet, and I had to catch my balance once or twice as I almost lost my footing. My avatar wore heavy boots and dark pants made of something thick and ever-so-slightly slippery. Hardly natural. My legs and arms were well muscled but still seemed female.
Archangel, Damon had said. I didn't know whether that was actually the name of the game or whether it was a project code.
The light grew dimmer still, turning purplish gray twilight shades. The birds and bugs were getting quieter, and all around me there was a sense of calm. I started to feel relaxed for the first time all day.
Too relaxed. I took a careless step and suddenly lost my balance completely, windmilling my arms futilely as I tumbled forward in an inelegant sprawl that left me smeared in mud and slightly winded at the water's edge.
I thought of everyone watching me in the outside world and rolled my eyes, biting my tongue to keep from swearing a blue streak in front of my prospective employer.
The embarrassment lasted until I levered myself back onto all fours and leaned toward the water, catching sight of my reflection.
The avatar wore a replica of Avery Bannon.
The perfectly manicured platinum hair, shocking against the dark skin, and extravagant makeup looked so out of place against my surroundings that I started laughing, unable to stop myself.
I sat in the mud and howled helplessly until I started to gasp for breath.
When I finally regained control, I crawled closer to the water and stretched one hand out, curious as to whether virtual water could feel real.
The sudden icy wetness against my fingers shocked me. I jerked my hand back, felt the water run down my palm, then dipped it back in, unable to resist.
Again, the sensation was uncannily real. This was better than any VR I'd ever tried. If this was the next generation in games, Righteous had made a breakthrough that was going to make Damon Riley whatever the next level up from gazillionaire was.
Fascinated, I kept swirling my hand, chasing the sparkles of light caused by the combination of sinking sun and rising moon—no, moons—skittering across the surface of the water.
The night hummed around me and I smiled lazily to myself, watching the deep red curve of Avery's lips mirroring my expression.
"Maaaaaagieeeeee."
The voice broke the stillness. Sibilant. Deep. Disturbing. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
I blinked, then swished my hand through the water again to try and slow my body's fight-or-flight response. This was just a game. I knew how to deal with a game opponent.
The water sparkled. I breathed in. Out. In again.
"Maaaaaagieeeeeeeeeee." The voice changed a little. It sounded surprised. Surprised and somehow satisfied. Creepily satisfied.
Around me, the night noises of the game faded, replaced by a muttering sort of droning sound that set my teeth on edge, a noise like something inhuman whispering just out of reach.
This part of the game I didn't like so much.
I started to rise but found myself frozen.
That wasn't right. You should always be able to move in a game, even if it was defying gravity to do so.
I tried to move my left hand, aiming for the dead man switch.
Nothing.
Fear snaked down my spine. Even if the game had glitched somehow, it shouldn’t stop me moving in the real world.
Had Damon been wrong about this version of the game?
Was I about to go crazy?
"Maaaaaagieeeeeeeeeeeee. Maaaaaagieeeeeeeee miiiiiiiiinnnnnnnne." It was louder now. Louder and darker and edged with the drone I'd heard earlier. Like a swarm of metallic bees, all humming at exactly the wrong frequency.
I tried to stand again, but my reflection stayed frozen, lips parted, eyes wide.
As I watched, willing myself to move, the reflection began to morph. Turned darker, wider. Inhuman somehow.
Glowing eyes–some color beyond red, beyond flames, beyond any human shade–widened and then focused on me.
"I see you, Maggie." The mouth moved in a horribly fleshy way, as though it wasn't designed for speaking English. "Where is this place?" The head swiveled from side to side, the movement almost mechanical, like it was scanning rather than seeing.
"Ah. Now I see. A human thing."
The eyes snapped back to me and pain seared in my head, like they were burning into me.
Wrong. All wrong.
I needed to move. To run.
To get away before those eyes consumed me utterly.
My muscles stayed motionless, so I did the only thing I could. I screamed as the reflection seemed to rise from the water and swoop toward me.
Everything turned black.
Then almost immediately went white as someone pulled the headset free, yanking out several hairs with it. Pain ripped through my skull—not like in the game, but enough to make me gasp.
"Maggie."
Damon's voice. I couldn't help a reflexive shudder at the sound of my name, as if I could still hear the weird buzzing.
"Maggie, open your eyes."
I obeyed, though my head responded with another throb of fire and I immediately squeezed them shut again.
"Get the doctor," Damon ordered. "Fast."
The last word was too loud and I winced.
"What happened?" I asked, keeping my voice soft.
"Your vitals spiked above the safety level, so we yanked you out of there. You tell me."
"There was . . ." I paused, trying to remember. But it was all blurring in my head. Water? Then pain and a strange noise and . . . it slipped away, fading like mist. "There was a noise. Buzzing maybe? Then I couldn't move."
"Sounds like VR disorientation." A different voice.
I cracked my eyes open again. It was the purple-haired guy who'd helped hook me up. "VR what?"
"Wait until the doctor gets here," Damon told me. He was crouched by the chair. "Don't talk."
"Doc's here now," Purple Hair said, jerking his head at something behind me.
I wanted to turn to look but didn't want to risk setting off another round of hot pokers in my head. "That was fast."
"We have a clinic here," Damon replied. He rose as a woman with short dark hair came up beside him. "Ellen. Thanks for coming."
"What happened?" Cool fingers grasped my wrist, checking my pulse. The woman's brown eyes were focused but calm.
"She got the wobbles," Purple Hair offered.
"I what?" I asked.
"The wobbles. VR disorientation, that's what we call it."
The doctor turned her head to look at him briefly, brows lifting. "Benji, how about you let me do the diagnosis?" She turned back to me. "Can you open your eyes, Ms. . . .?"
"Lachlan," Damon filled the gap.
"Ms. Lachlan. How do you feel?"
"A bit queasy," I admitted. "My head hurts." I winced as the doctor pulled out a small torch and directed the light into my eyes.
"You felt all right before entering the game?" She pulled out a medical scanner and skimmed me.
"Yes."
"No recent illnesses?"
"No."
The scanner beeped and she glanced at the screen, then nodded once. "Everything checks out as normal. I think Benji was right. You got the wobbles."
"Can someone explain what that is?"
"VR disorientation," Benji said.
"I got that much. What does that mean? I've gamed before but I’ve never heard of it."
Damon blew out a breath. "Doesn't matter if you’ve played before. Sometimes the wobbles just kick in. Basically, with some people, or even just some scenarios, the brain doesn't want to accept the illusion, so it kicks in a reaction to break the spell, usually by flooding your system with adrenaline. People hear strange things or see strange things and generally hit the panic button. But you didn't do that."
"I—I don't remember."
The doctor mad
e a soothing noise. "It's okay, Ms. Lachlan. It's normal to feel, well, disoriented. It's kind of like fainting."
"I never faint," I said.
"I'm going to give you a dose of vitamins and something to counteract the adrenaline surge. And a painkiller for the headache. You need to make sure you drink lots of water today, and eat something soon."
"Thank you." Taking the headache away sounded like a wonderful idea. The doctor pressed a hypo against my wrist, the icy kiss of the spray almost shocking.
"There."
"Thank you," I repeated. "Doctor . . .?"
"Chen. Ellen Chen."
The cool sensation traveled up my arm, and my headache started to back off almost immediately. I rubbed my wrist lightly to chase away the chill, then froze as something occurred to me. "Will this happen again? Does it affect my ability to have a chip?"
Dr. Chen pursed her lips. "You say you've gamed before, yes?"
I nodded.
"No side effects previously?"
"Other than eating way too much junk during an all-night session, no."
Her lips curved. "Then you should be fine. The chip surgeon will do a full work-up anyway. They'll pick up any contraindications.
"And you'll be working in the code mainly, not playing the games," Damon added.
"Plus some people only get the wobbles the first time," Benji chimed in. "It's like getting your sea legs."
I hoped he was right, because wobbles aside, after seeing that game—no, make that experiencing that game-even such a tiny snippet, my geek side was salivating at the thought of working with the code that made it all happen.
I wanted in.
No matter what the risks were.
"Does this mean you're taking the job?" Damon asked.
I nodded and was happy that the movement didn't hurt my head at all. "Yes. Yes, I am."
"In that case, we'd better go back to my office," he said. "There are a couple more conditions I need to discuss with you.”
Chapter Four
Cat was waiting for us outside Damon’s office. "The food is inside. And your messages are on your screen."
