Virtual Murder

by Jennifer Macaire

  "Excuse me, Captain Walker. Now that I've filled out my deposition, what can we do?"

  "I don't think we can do anything. Mr. Brims has already copied all the information concerning the tourists. He's gone over all the transcripts, and so far, has found nothing out of the ordinary. The problem, as I see it, is how to investigate within the virtual world. There is no police force there. As far as I know, there is no official law and order force at all in the virtual world.” The policeman tucked his hat under his arm and scratched his head. “Just the Net."

  "Just the Net,” Andrea repeated slowly.

  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Captain Walker asked .

  "I hope not. Excuse me, please.” Andrea walked back to her office, then picked up her private phone and dialed David Willow's number. He was her current boyfriend, but more importantly, he was a senator for the Net. He answered on the first ring.

  "Andrea! What's going on?"

  "Another tour guide is dead. I think someone planted a virus in my program. I want you to get your ass over here right now. I'll give you ten minutes. Otherwise, I'm calling Bernard Draper at CVN. He'll want to hear all about this."

  "You don't realize how powerful the Net is,” David snapped. “I don't think you're in a position to give orders here."

  "What the Net had better realize is that its very size and power is its own Achilles heel. Virtual voyages are the newest, most lucrative program, and the Net has invested heavily in Virtual Tours. New tours of all sorts are in the programming stages. I happen to know that the incredible success of Virtual Tours caused the Net to speculate far more than it should have. If Virtual Tours becomes a fiasco, the Net will sustain a huge loss. Huge losses mean cutting back essential programs, putting thousands of people out of work. Like you, David. Think about it."

  "All right, Andrea. Tell me what happened."

  "What's happened is that someone has found a way to break through all the barriers the Net set up to protect the tours. Worse, that person has found a way to use the Net for murder."

  "How is that possible? A virtual world is just that—virtual. How can someone, or something, within the program kill someone's physical body just by interacting with his neurons?"

  Andrea bit her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. “I don't know. But you'd better get on the line to someone who can find out. But most important of all, you have to stop the tours."

  David sputtered over the phone. “I can't do that."

  "Then send someone who can. Send Ms. Andrews. I'll talk to her.” Andrea hung up and rubbed her temples. What was going on with her tour?

  Chapter Five

  (Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so,

  Only what nobody denies is so.)

  ~Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

  * * * *

  "This is a men's room. You go into the one with the little symbol for a man. The other door is for women."

  "How interesting. Tell me, Professor Toutbon, why are there no toilet facilities in the virtual world?"

  "I really don't know.” Toutbon shook his head. He'd never thought about that.

  "Am I doing well, Professor Toutbon?"

  "You are doing just fine, Monkey, just fine."

  It was true. The mutant had proved to be docile and curious. He didn't seem to be nervous, and except for a rather tense moment when he'd passed in front of a mirror, everything had gone smoothly. Toutbon congratulated himself for choosing Monkey. The mutant was one of his favorites. A bit of a daydreamer, sometimes hard to reach on the console, but easy enough to communicate with once he'd been removed from his glass case. They hadn't wanted to make any mistakes. They had told Monkey everything they were about to do and given him time to settle down before they advanced to the next step.

  Monkey's case had been put into a private room. All women were kept away. Toutbon remembered his reaction to the female and didn't want to take any chances with a male. The lights were slowly brightened to give his eyes a chance to adjust from the dimness of his cloud-filled case to harsh artificial lighting.

  His muscle tone was amazing, thanks to constant electrical twitching. He had a bit of a problem balancing, though, and would suddenly pitch forward. The first time he did that, he didn't even try to catch himself and had bloodied his nose. Afterwards he put his arms out each time he fell. He learned quickly. He'd worn clothes in the virtual world but hadn't fiddled with zippers or buttons. Right now his fly gaped open and he'd put his shirt on inside-out. Toutbon pointed to his own pants and then to Monkey's pants. The young mutant gave him a blinding smile, then yanked his zipper up so hard he nearly broke it.

  Toutbon was confident he could drive a car, fly a jet, use a phone, climb stairs, or shoot a laser pistol. Not that he would get the chance to do any of that, except climb stairs, perhaps. He was still temporarily plugged into his console with a Net shunt attached to his temple. Shunts were simply fine wires that connected into a computer terminal at one end, and to an electrode at the other. An electrode pressed against a person's temple and allowed the user's brainwaves to interact directly with the computer. In Monkey's case, it went deeper than that. As a mutant, he had a metal plate in his temple that connected to the shunt. At any moment, Toutbon could put him back to sleep and communicate with him purely on a data processing level. He wasn't sure if Monkey realized this. For now, he sat, eyes wide, his mouth working comically as he spoke.

  It was unnerving for Toutbon. It was as if his word processor suddenly sprang to life, asking questions and touching things around the room. He had the most candid stare, and that unsettled Toutbon. He felt, obscurely, as if he needed to safeguard Monkey.

  He smiled and patted his hand. “You're doing very well. I'm proud of you.” Tears pricked his eyes, and he blinked rapidly as emotion submerged him. What was going on? The thought of sending Monkey away to Dallas made him want to weep. He had the strongest impulse to protect him. He was just a child; he knew nothing about the real world, nothing.

  "It's all right.” Monkey leaned forward and touched him lightly on the arm. “I'll be fine. From what I gathered, I'll be in one of our Virtual Programs, trying to catch a certain virus. Have I understood my mission correctly?"

  "Yes, you have.” Toutbon took his glasses off and wiped his eyes. He cleaned his glasses on a corner of his lab coat and sighed. Soon he had to take Monkey to the fifth floor where the Net Rep was waiting with an armed guard to take him away.

  "I will be back soon."

  "I hope so,” Toutbon said, “I certainly hope so. Now, let's go over it once more. You drink, you feel certain urgency in your bladder, you go to the room with the little man icon, and then what? You tell me."

  "I use the facilities!” Monkey said, proudly.

  "Don't forget. Unzip your pants, take your penis out, and point it in the right direction. Don't get your clothes wet, don't urinate outside the urinals, and don't forget..."

  "Always wash my hands before I eat!” crowed Monkey. “I remembered!"

  Professor Toutbon shook his head. He was terribly anxious. Monkey had spent his entire life in a protected environment. He'd never caught a single cold. He was about to go out into a world full of germs. He'd ordered Monkey to wear special masks, and Monkey had a supply of them in his vest pocket.

  "Don't forget your mask when you go outside,” Professor Toutbon said sadly.

  "Don't worry, Professor. I'll take care. You'll see; I'll be back before you know."

  Professor Toutbon couldn't answer. He was too busy pretending to wipe a speck of dust out of his eye and blowing his nose.

  * * * *

  Sally threw herself into Mitch's arms. In her haste, she tripped, so it was a good thing he caught her firmly around the waist.

  "Hey, little lady, going somewhere?"

  "Mitch! I was so worried about you!” She kissed him hard on the lips.

  "Hold on, I need to take a shower and brush my teeth before you ravish me here in the middle of the hallway."r />
  "I'm sorry, it's just nerves.” Her voice dropped. “I need to talk to you."

  "Can you wait until I get out of the shower? You know how groggy I feel after a voyage, and I just woke up. I'll only be a minute. Wait right here. Don't move.” He grinned. “I promise, I'll be quick."

  Sally paced nervously back and forth. As she paced, she chewed her nails. She checked her watch; it was nearly ten p.m. She should have been home in bed, curled up beneath her patchwork quilt, her head on Mitch's shoulder, while they watched the stars twinkle through the huge skylight above their bed. They both disliked television and loved classical music. There was an overflowing bookcase next to the bed. Mitch could reach out, grab a book, and read aloud. He loved stories. His favorite books were by Ray Bradbury, and he had a nice reading voice. Sally would rub his back while he read. It was part of the deal. Whoever read aloud got a massage while they were reading.

  Then they would make love. Mitch would usually start, sliding his hand down her thigh, giving a soft sigh when his fingers touched her skin. Then he would lift the covers over his head, giving her a wicked grin before he disappeared beneath the sheets. Always that wide smile before he vanished beneath the covers. She loved that grin; it preceded the feel of hot breath on skin that was so sensitive the slightest touch was too heavy. A finger, no matter how smooth, felt rough. Only a tongue, a soft, velvety tongue, could...

  "Miss Child, what are you doing?"

  Sally dropped her purse with a shriek. Her eyes had been closed, her head tipped back, as her back pressed against the wall. She glared at Digby. “Don't you ever scare me like that! You'll give me a heart attack!"

  "Sorry. You looked as if you were about to go to sleep standing up, and I didn't want you to fall and hurt yourself."

  Sally ran a shaky hand through her curly hair. “No harm done."

  "Where's Mitch?"

  "In the shower. Why?"

  "He has to come with me. The head Rep wants to see him."

  Sally blinked. “Head Rep? Wants to see to Mitch? What about?"

  "He's a witness in the case."

  "Case? What are you talking about, Daniel?"

  "The Net seems to think the program has been infiltrated by some sort of virus, a ghost glitch, and they want to catch it and whoever slipped it into the program."

  "A ghost glitch?"

  "That's the name I invented for it.” Digby shrugged.

  "How can a virus in a virtual program kill a body back here in the real world?” Sally's hand crept to her mouth and she nibbled on her nails.

  "I have no idea. Isn't that weird? I have no idea at all."

  Mitch stepped out of the locker room, his hair still damp. His smile slid off his face like water when he saw Digby. “Hey Danny-boy,” he said cautiously. “What's up?"

  "I hate it when you call me that. It's Digby, or Daniel. And what's up is you're our chief witness for the defense."

  "The defense? Who's prosecuting?"

  "The Net."

  Mitch stood perfectly still. He didn't even seem to breathe. “They didn't tell me why they woke me up nearly ten hours too early; they just shuffled me out of the room. What's happening? They don't think it was an accident, is that it?"

  "That, my friend, is what we'd all like to know.” Digby took a deep breath. “It's not official yet, so no one is saying anything about this. For now it's not being called an investigation, it's being called a case. You're the one chosen to find the ghost glitch in the program."

  Mitch gave a faint grin. “That sounds like one of your handles. Ghost glitch. Is that what you're calling the virus?"

  "The Net thought it was fitting."

  "Why me and not you?” Mitch asked.

  Digby frowned. Evidently, he would have preferred to have been chosen. “You're familiar with the tour. I'm just the technician. You'll be able to sense if something is not right. After all, you practically live in the virtual world."

  "What does the Net know that we don't?” Sally asked, her fingers tightening on Mitch's arm.

  Digby looked at her. “All I've ever heard are rumors. But now I'm beginning to think that they were true."

  "Meaning?” Sally urged.

  Digby tightened his lips and shook his head. “Let's just say I hope Mitch doesn't find anything wrong with the program. Well, shall we go? The Net Rep awaits, and she doesn't look like the type to be kept waiting."

  "Where am I going?” asked Mitch.

  "Dallas. Didn't I tell you? You're going straight to the top, Mitch. To the headquarters to take part in a hunt for a ghost glitch. Isn't your skin just prickling with dread?"

  "Dallas? You're kidding."

  "Nope, got your plane ticket right here. Do you have a toothbrush in your bag? Yes? Well, you're all set.” Digby took Mitch by the arm. “Come on, let's go. The sooner we get this cleared up, the sooner we can all get back to life as usual."

  "Why can't I do it from here?” Mitch asked, a puzzled frown on his handsome face.

  "They have some new virus-catching program set up in a secured room. It should be interesting. Let me know what you think of it. They loaded the main terminal and packed it in a spray-foam box just ten minutes ago. The tour guides’ sending room has been stripped. They took two chairs and all the electrodes I had. They even had their own technician come and ask me how to hook everything up correctly, although I could tell he already knew what he was doing. Don't worry, Mitch, you'll be in competent hands."

  Mitch gave a short laugh. “Don't worry? Are you kidding? Let me get this straight. I'm on my way to Dallas to find a virus in the program because the Net Government is in charge all of a sudden?"

  "They have always been in charge. We just didn't realize it, that's all. I don't think you want to keep them waiting."

  "Wait,” Sally protested. “Can't I have just a minute with him?"

  "Hurry up,” Digby said.

  "You can't leave me without a kiss.” Sally embraced Mitch tightly and buried her face in his chest.

  Mitch gave her a quick kiss, touching her lightly on the cheek. “Don't worry, Twinkle Star Sal, I'll be back in a flash,” he whispered.

  "I love you,” she replied.

  Then he left, practically dragged down the hall by Digby. Damn that Digby, anyway. Dallas was a long ways away, and two men in the program had died. Sally gnawed on her thumbnail. If anything happened to Mitch, it would destroy her. She glanced up at Andrea Girt's office. If only she was more like Andrea. Nothing seemed to perturb her. She stayed calm, cool, and never bit her nails. Sally looked at her fingers and sighed.

  * * * *

  The building echoed with the sounds of heels tapping on the floors, of sirens, of tense voices and the steady whistle from a teapot somewhere. Until midnight, the offices had been crowded. Afterwards, when the last police officer had left and the tourists were herded into vans and taken away, the Net technicians had finished loading up the material they needed and the door slid shut with a final ping, the silence rushed in.

  Andrea stood in front of the plate-glass window and stared unseeingly at the lights below. Her head was ringing, her eyes stung, and she wanted to curl up in a big, soft bed, and cuddle with someone strong and dependable. Only dependable wasn't how she would describe the men she dated. A small whine startled her, and she spun around.

  Cocotte stepped daintily out of her wicker basket and trotted to her mistress. Her claws made a light clicking sound on the green stone floor. She looked up at Andrea, shiny nose twitching, eyes pleading. She whined again, her plumed tail wagging silently.

  Andrea reached down and ruffled her silky ears. “Everything is a mess, Cocotte. You won't believe what a mess it is.” She straightened and sighed. “Dave Willow is such an unfortunate wimp.” She paused and looked at her dog to make sure she was listening.

  Cocotte tilted her head to one side.

  "He said something about someone named Frank Dinde. Do you know who he is? I checked. He's in charge of the security division of the
Net. That means whatever happened here has shaken them badly. They feel their control slipping, and that scares them. It scares me, too."

  A flashing blue light in the street distracted her for a moment. “I can't believe I'm dating such an idiot, can you?"

  The dog whined again.

  "You're right, they've all been pretty bad. I promise after this I won't have any more boyfriends. I'll either get married or become a nun. How does that sound?"

  Cocotte barked.

  Andrea frowned at her dog. “You don't seem to agree. I guess I'd make a lousy wife and a worse nun.” She made a face. “David Willow sweats too much for me to get serious about him."

  She picked up the dog's leash and snapped it on its collar. “You know, David told me the Net is disturbed about a virus. I think the Net is more interested in catching whoever planted that virus and I wouldn't want to be in that person's place when they do. They'll probably send him to a virtual torture chamber. Did you see Ms. Andrews? She looked colder than an ice cube. Poor Mitch. I hope he has better luck getting her to smile than I did. Well, I suppose she's under pressure with this new virus cropping up. I would like to know where it came from, though. Did it come from Virtual Tours?"

  Cocotte panted and gave a small woof.

  "I didn't think so. I have confidence in everyone who works for me. I only hope that the Net will keep their part of the bargain and not sell any more tours until we work this thing out.” She shrugged on her coat and grabbed her purse. “It's odd, Cocotte, but I feel as if I could tell you anything, and you actually understand what I'm saying.” She laughed shortly. “Our ride should be here. Let's go."

  The distance to her apartment was about thirty blocks. Before she'd inherited Cocotte, she used to walk. However, the dog was old and couldn't keep up with her long strides. Even after two blocks, the aged spaniel had to sit and pant a while. Therefore, Andrea had hired a chauffeuring service to pick her up in the morning and drop her off every night. The chauffeurs were very professional, dressed in black uniforms with patent leather shoes. They had caps with shiny brims, and each time they held the door for her, they clasped the cap across their chests. Tonight Andrea was glad to see Tony, her favorite. He was young and handsome, but more than that, he always had a genuine smile for her and for Cocotte.