by Julie Hyzy
“You’re the only person I completely trust.” Werner threw Patrick a baleful look. “Get in there. Do whatever it takes.”
TEN
A brick outhouse of a woman appeared from around the corner. “Stewart Mathers?” she asked. When he and Vanessa stood, the woman ordered them to follow her, navigating the narrow hall with such verve that Stewart feared she might bounce against the walls. He didn’t like her expression. He didn’t like anything about this place. He’d never been called before the regulatory board before, and he wished to God he had some idea of what he was going to say. There was no explanation for what had happened. None. Sledgehammers pounded his heart. Sharp pincers gripped his stomach. He needed to heave.
The squat woman pushed one of the tall doors open with an authoritative flat hand. “In here,” she said.
The room was empty, though large enough to seat a hundred. Far across the dark-carpeted expanse, behind a skirted table and silhouetted by tall, bare windows, sat three individuals on a raised platform. Flanking the wide wall of windows were two portraits of the men who’d started Virtu-Tech, Vefa Noonan and Simon Huntington.
“Come in,” an amplified voice beckoned.
The words echoed as if they had been shouted in a cave. Stewart and Vanessa walked in behind the woman, who quickly outpaced them. She made it to the front and settled herself at a small desk. Within seconds, she’d triggered a small camera and waited, fingers poised, to begin recording the proceedings into a laptop computer.
Taking a breath, Stewart shot Vanessa a look of encouragement. He strode in purposefully. No sense in looking weak even if that’s how he felt.
He took a seat at the table facing the three judges, Vanessa to his right. Live microphones arced into their personal space. Spotlighting bathed them in personal pools of glow. Could this get more intimidating?
Stewart couldn’t make out the faces of the Tribunal members. The bright windows behind them kept him from being able to discern much more than that they were all male. His eyes scanned down to the court reporter facing him, ready to start the proceedings. She spread her lips in a smile that did nothing to ease his discomfort.
“Welcome,” came a voice from above. From the slight shift in the center figure’s shoulders, Stewart deduced it was he who’d spoken. “We are very sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” he continued in a nasal tone, spreading his arms as if to encompass the situation, “but I am certain that with your cooperation, we’ll have matters settled soon and be able to move forward with confidence.”
Stewart spoke into the microphone. “Um. Yes. Thank you. I agree,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Vanessa nodding. The woman at the computer began to type.
The voice continued in the slightly higher pitch of introduction. “As you know, we represent Virtu-Tech’s governing body for mind-directed entertainment. I am Dr. Brennan, and to my right is Dr. Sachs. Dr. Larson is unable to be here today, but we are fortunate to have another associate here in his place to conduct the questioning.” He took a slip of a breath, then turned to his left. “Dr. Trutenko, you may begin.”
The large man leaned forward, bringing his body enough into the overhead light to allow Stewart a good look at him. He didn’t like what he saw. Buzz-cut hair, middle-aged scowling face.
“We summoned three individuals to this inquiry. Why are there only two of you here?”
The man’s tone churned up Stewart’s uneven stomach yet again. He cleared his throat. “I ordered the envoy—the one who attempted to save the lives of Charles Russell and his client in the fatal VR scenario—to remain back at our facility.”
“Why would you do that?” Trutenko asked.
“A judgment call on my part,” Stewart said, with every bit of confidence he could muster. “She and Charlie…Charles Russell…were close.” He kept his gaze steady. “She needs time to deal with her grief. I believe that putting her through this inquiry would have been damaging to her.”
Trutenko appeared to be ready to ask another question, but Stewart interrupted. “Because both the client and Charles Russell were dead or nearly dead by the time she reached them, I don’t believe any analysis of her actions is relevant to these proceedings.”
Trutenko’s jaw worked out some inner tension. He consulted notes. “This envoy,” he said finally, “her name is Kenna Ward?”
“That’s correct.”
“You say that she and Charles Russell were close. In fact, they planned to be married, didn’t they?”
Stewart clasped his hands together. “That’s correct.”
Trutenko scratched a few notes. “Isn’t it rather unusual for romantically involved envoys to work together?”
Vanessa interjected, “They were a team first. An excellent one. They always worked together.” She shot a glance toward Stewart, then amended, “Well, until recently.”
“Then how do you explain Mr. Russell going in without tech support?” Brennan interrupted from his center chair. “Why no backup?”
Stewart bit his lip. Here it was. “Charlie accessed our system without authority. He and the client apparently came in after hours to participate in the client’s adventure.”
“Without authority, you say? Why was that?” Brennan pressed. “What prevented this client from coming to the facility during normal hours? And how did he manage to hire one of your envoys to accompany him?”
Vanessa glanced over at Stewart as though she read his mind. He had no choice but to tell the truth.
“We don’t know. We couldn’t identify the client. We couldn’t find anyone who fit his description in our records. We couldn’t find him anywhere, as a matter of fact.” Stewart dropped his gaze. It sounded ridiculous. Everyone could be found nowadays. The fact that they couldn’t identify this user was inexcusable. Stewart looked up again. “The authorities are investigating. I’m sure they’ll come up with answers. We assume that the name the client provided was an alias.”
“Why would he fake his identity?”
Stewart had given this a great deal of thought. “My guess is that, whoever the man was, he’d been on a list of prohibited VR users. By using a fake ID and coming in after hours, he circumvented the system so that no one would know he’d participated.”
“But because you don’t know who this individual really is, you don’t know for certain that he was prohibited. Correct?” Brennan pressed.
“Yes. We can only speculate that he’d demonstrated a high risk of immersion in the past.” Stewart stared down at the table. He scratched at the linen with his fingernail. “Apparently he was very susceptible.”
The room was silent save for the tiny tapping noises as the court reporter recorded Stewart’s last few words. Long slivers of sweat trickled down his back. He shivered in the chill. His fingertips had gone numb.
Outside, the afternoon sun clouded, darkening the windows and bringing the three men’s faces into better focus.
Trutenko leaned forward again. “Back to the viability of your franchise. How many envoys do you have on staff?”
“After the loss of Charlie, we’re down to three.”
“Including Kenna Ward?”
“Yes. That includes Kenna.”
“What are her plans? Brennan asked. “Will she return to the job? Or has the experience at AdventureSome traumatized her? Is it possible you’ll be left with fewer envoys than you’re required to have on staff?”
“I offered to bring on a couple of registry-level envoys,” Stewart said, “but Kenna refuses to take time off.”
Trutenko pursed his lips. “You do understand that, for a facility your size, four full-time envoys are required.”
“I can step in as needed.”
“You’re certified as an envoy?”
Relieved to be able to answer at least one question with confidence, Stewart nodded. “I am.”
&
nbsp; “When was the last time you tested?” Brennan asked.
“Less than a year,” Stewart said.
Brennan made a sound that could have indicated disbelief. “We will feel more comfortable allowing AdventureSome to reopen once you’re fully staffed.”
“I’ve taken steps to hire a replacement”—Stewart nearly choked on the word—“for Charlie.”
“Good,” Brennan said.
Trutenko held his pen poised above the desk before him. “You say that Kenna Ward and Charles Russell were lovers,” he said. “They lived together?”
Stewart lowered his head toward the microphone. “Yes.”
“If I understand the sequence of events correctly, Ms. Vanessa Rickert was on call the evening of the recent deaths.” He nodded toward her. “She was summoned in by the automated alarm system when the unknown client’s life signs began to fail. On her way into the facility she notified you, yes?”
“That’s correct.”
“You assessed the situation and made the decision to summon Ms. Ward to attempt a rescue.”
A long moment of silence. Finally Stewart said, “Yes, that’s true.”
“Why did you choose to summon Ms. Ward? Why not someone else?”
“Kenna’s my best envoy. There’s no one—”
“Is it because Ms. Ward already knew Mr. Russell was there without permission?”
“No.” Stewart frowned. “Kenna didn’t—”
“Come now, Mr. Mathers. Charles Russell was operating in stealth. You’ve already admitted as much. Wouldn’t it make sense to summon an envoy who was aware of his covert activities?”
“Absolutely not,” Stewart said with resentment, the flush of anger rushing to his face. “Kenna didn’t even know that Charlie was there that night.”
“How can you be certain?”
Stewart stared Trutenko straight in the eye. He knew that the man was here to do a job, but he couldn’t help hating him. Maybe because this hearing represented how Charlie died, or Stewart’s own inability to prevent this tragedy from happening in the first place. No matter. Stewart refused to allow Kenna’s reputation to be questioned.
“Listen,” he said, when he composed himself. “If Kenna had found out about an unauthorized trip in, she would have kicked his ass, if you’ll pardon the expression. Kenna has seen firsthand what can happen when rules aren’t followed. I’m sure Charlie was keeping her in the dark.”
“Why is that?”
Stewart took a deep breath, then answered. “I can only guess that he may have been trying to earn extra money before they got married.”
Placing one hand over his microphone, Trutenko motioned for his colleagues to lean in. They spoke in low tones before returning their attention to Stewart and Vanessa.
Brennan leaned forward. “Because your facility has a solid record, we have decided to allow AdventureSome to reopen. That’s assuming, of course, our techs find nothing out of order during their investigation.”
Stewart’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you,” he said.
“Not so fast.” Trutenko held up a finger. “We have also opened an investigation into Kenna Ward’s liability for this recent tragedy. We expect your complete cooperation.”
“Kenna had nothing to do with it.”
“So you claim,” Trutenko said. “Let us hope the facts support that assertion. In the meantime, you are both hereby admonished to say nothing of this aspect of the investigation to Ms. Ward.”
“Please, listen to reason,” Stewart began.
“No, Mr. Mathers. You need to listen,” Trutenko said, cutting him off. “While your facility is in no danger at the moment, the loss of an envoy is a singularly alarming occurrence. If those who are trained to protect are in jeopardy themselves, then our entire industry is threatened. We need to minimize that risk. There may be other forces at work. From your testimony here today, I believe it is possible that Mr. Russell was keeping more secrets than even you were aware of. One of these secrets may enlighten us as to why he was unable to survive a relatively mild VR adventure.”
“I don’t understand.”
Trutenko’s glare bore down on him. “And that is precisely why we need to step in and analyze the situation. We don’t know much about this Charles Russell. We don’t know the sort of person he was, or who this Kenna Ward is. We don’t know their friends or acquaintances. We must investigate the possibility that they may have set out to sabotage Virtu-Tech’s systems.”
“Sabotage?” Stewart choked an indignant huff. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I assure you, I am not. There are enough questions here to raise suspicion. I don’t want to falter in my investigation. I choose, rather, to cover every possible alternative.”
“Charlie wouldn’t be involved in anything underhanded. I’d have trusted him with my life.”
“Be very glad you never acted upon that trust, Mr. Mathers. His client apparently did and died for his naïveté. You will provide whatever assistance is required to facilitate our covert investigation.” He blinked twice, then smiled.
“You can’t do that.”
“Indeed, I can. AdventureSome is a franchise of Virtu-Tech, is it not?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then you may wish to review the contracts all franchise owners are required to sign before being granted permission to operate.”
“I protest.” Stewart stood, barely aware of Vanessa’s restraining hand on his arm.
“Then let me submit this observation to you, Mr. Mathers. With your cooperation, our Tribunal will be willing to overlook your recent misfortunes. If you choose to thwart our investigation, then I will have no choice but to close down AdventureSome immediately and indefinitely.”
ELEVEN
Sitting together on a train station bench, Kenna and Stewart didn’t speak. Instead, they stared straight ahead.
Kenna appreciated the silence. Guilt and grief combined to make the past several days among the most difficult she’d ever endured. Robbed of the words to explain to Charlie’s family, she’d nonetheless assisted his mother in arranging for his cremation. At the memorial service, his mom had silently squeezed Kenna’s hand. Forgiveness? Understanding? Kenna would never know.
Through it all, Stewart had been steadfast and supportive. He’d listened as she recounted her experiences in Charlie’s fatal VR scenario, as baffled as she was regarding the program’s anomalies and Charlie’s involvement in a clandestine adventure. They, together with Vanessa and the other techs at AdventureSome, had tried to make sense of the situation, but no matter how deeply they dug, they found no answers. At this point, Kenna was simply talked out. She craved anonymity and oblivion. When Stewart announced his errand, she’d volunteered to go along. Where better to blend in than at a busy train terminal? Commuters, travelers, shoppers, and families scurried past against the backdrop of an unceasing procession of long- and short-distance shuttles. Sleek and glistening white, the snakelike monsters slid in and out of Chicago’s Union Station with graceful precision like a reptilian ballet. The trains made slow U-turns behind curved Plexiglas. They stopped long enough to disgorge arrivals and absorb new passengers before shushing off again through dark feeder tunnels. Above the Plexiglas barriers, ever-changing readouts silently displayed gate assignments and departure times.
And on every vertical surface in the station, billboard screens advertised the latest in VR entertainment.
Kenna let her gaze fly from one wall-size display to the next. In concert, dozens of screens presented their ever-repeating ads filled with laughing people of all colors, shapes, sizes, and ages. Every one of them spoke earnestly into the camera.
“Experience the adventure of a lifetime,” they urged in a sea of sincere eyes and bright teeth.
An elderly man with cherry-red cheeks winked. “As often as you want!”
&
nbsp; A clean-cut woman in a lab coat and a name tag reading “Doctor” stepped into the frame. Carrying a clipboard and wearing look of satisfaction, she gave her notes a theatrical glance, then smiled at the swell of cheerful people before turning to address the camera herself. “The new 6.0 implant will be available soon. Sign up today to be first in line for the free upgrade when it’s released,” she said. Brightening her smile, she added, “It’s perfectly safe.”
Perfectly safe. Yeah, right. Kenna fingered her silver locket. An engagement gift from Charlie. Her most treasured possession. Her only tangible link to him now.
The last thing Kenna wanted to think about was the pervasiveness of VR, but there was no escaping the animated billboards chanting happy claims from every direction. She couldn’t summon the will to even look away. Instead, she studied the ads, dispassionately estimating that they cycled about every seven minutes. Jason’s train had been delayed, and they’d been here for four rounds already.
Next ad: Simon Huntington: wizened face, youthful energy, sharing the story of his friendship with Vefa Noonan and the tale of their wondrous invention. Everyone, even little kids in school, knew VR’s origin story. Kenna had learned it herself years ago, and mentally recited along with old Simon.
There had been any number of virtual reality gadgets on the market before Simon Huntington and Vefa Noonan came along. They’d expanded on the concept, taking it deeper. First into the realm of education and health care, saving countless lives in the process. That the technology had now morphed into entertainment—becoming Virtu-Tech’s crown jewel—was simply bonus. For both eager consumers and its owners’ bank accounts.
The full advertising cycle wouldn’t be complete without a word from Celia Newell. Vefa Noonan’s only child—and now the powerful president of Virtu-Tech—she smiled into the camera, coolly reminding everyone to come in for free implant upgrades.
“Virtu-Tech and I care about you,” Newell said for the fourth time since Kenna had sat down. She sincerely hoped the trains wouldn’t be further delayed. She didn’t think she could sit through four more iterations.
