The Intruder

by Greg Krehbiel

  "First, which side are you on?"

  Duncan laughed. "What's the point of the question? Do you expect me to say I'm a bad guy? But I suppose you have to ask," he conceded. "First, however, I want you to know how fortunate you have been. You've fallen into the middle of the crime of century, and, so far, you've stayed alive. That's something. This game gets rough from time to time," his eye strayed ever-so-slightly toward Hanna, "but we're the good guys." MacKenzie wondered if he was responsible for kidnapping Hanna. "If the conspiracy had any idea how close you are to figuring them out, your life wouldn't be worth a cat's whisker. The only thing that has saved you so far is that we managed to distract Dr. Berry while you were working in your lab."

  MacKenzie tried to think it through. If Duncan had sent her the message, then he had to have information from the net spies. That was the only way he could have known what she had been doing. So does that mean the net spies are working against the conspiracy? If so, what worse thing is the conspiracy doing? Duncan began to smile. He seemed to guess what she was thinking.

  "It's far more complicated than you imagine," he said.

  Hanna and MacKenzie each had several competing theories that tried to tie together the isolated pieces. They peppered Duncan with questions, trying to make sense of it all. After an hour of conversation that seemed to stray from one topic to another, never bringing them any nearer to a conclusion, Duncan convinced Hanna and MacKenzie that the best way for him to explain what he was up to, and why, was to take them to his central office.

  When they agreed, Duncan gave an order and several of the students who were waiting outside began to move. Duncan poked his head out of the study room and gestured for Hanna and MacKenzie to follow. Each step of the way -- from the room to the elevator, from the elevator through a back hallway, and out the freight entrance to a waiting hovercar -- black-eyed students were guarding the way, motioning for them to continue, or keeping them back if anyone ventured too near.

  Just as Hanna began to wonder if, after all this secrecy, Duncan was going to let them know where his office was, he flipped the privacy switch in the hovercar and the windows went dark. The on-board computer system had been pre-programmed for their destination, so Duncan merely told the car to go and they took off.

  When the doors opened ten minutes later they found themselves inside a small garage. The outside door had already closed behind them and Duncan led them through another door -- a security door, MacKenzie noted -- into a large warehouse. It was only half full, and the collection of machines, offices and computer stations gave the place a disorganized, eclectic feel.

  Hanna noticed five large virtual reality tanks against the side wall. She had never actually seen one because she had no interest in what they were typically used for. In fact, it made her uncomfortable to see them here. She knew what they were from the unavoidable and somewhat garish advertisements that hyped all the fun things you could do in a virtual reality tank. She didn't care for that sort of thing. Real life seemed more interesting to her than fantasy adventures in a computer simulation.

  But she knew how they operated. The tanks were about 10 feet high and were filled with a solution that could be adjusted to make a human body neutrally buoyant. The person in the tank, called a "rider," wore an elastic, waterproof, skin-tight suit that monitored every bodily movement and fed that information into the tank's program, which provided real-time responses. The suit not only monitored what the body did, but provided appropriate stimulation to the skin, depending on the program. Someone in a virtual reality suit could go skiing, practice karate, climb Mt. Everest or swim in a coral reef -- all without leaving the VR tank. The suit would provide the appropriate visual, tactile, auditory and olfactory stimulation. They were still working on a virtual sense of taste.

  MacKenzie didn't notice the tanks. She only had eyes for the computer hardware. Because of the nature of the communications links between the hole and the implants, computer functions done through an implant interface were limited, despite the fact that the implants were connected to the most powerful computers in the world. Normal implant use didn't even approach the limits of implant computing, but for the serious computer user, like MacKenzie, it was necessary to work at a terminal where high speed interfaces allowed the user to pull out all the stops and run elaborate computations.

  One wall of the warehouse was packed with terminals and state-of-the-art processors. Holographic bubble displays floated in front of the programmers, displaying complicated mathematical processes in three dimensions. To Hanna they just looked like computer-generated art, but MacKenzie saw several familiar patterns. Duncan's lab was at least three times the size of the lab at the university, which was a good-sized computer lab in its own right. MacKenzie was mesmerized.

  Duncan removed his black contact lens and told his guests they could remove their patches. "We've managed to protect this area," he said, and then noticed that MacKenzie wasn't hearing him. "You're never going to figure out what's going on until you look over there," he told her, pointing to the tanks, "and notice this," he said, indicating the high-speed connection between the tanks and the wall of computer hardware.

  MacKenzie looked, but she was too impressed with the hardware to see the big picture. Hanna picked it up first.

  "That's how you spy on people," she said, pointing to the tanks. "You monitor everybody's visual information from the hole with those things," she pointed to the processors, "and they generate a virtual reality simulation of the world, which gets fed into the tanks. So somebody in one of those tanks can 'go' anywhere -- inside a virtual image of the world -- without really going anywhere. They're there, but they're not there, just like the net spies."

  Duncan smiled and MacKenzie looked at Hanna in surprise, then she went into hard-core genius mode, as Hanna would call it, dropping her mouth half open and getting that characteristic look on her face; the one that looked to Hanna like someone who was recovering from a stroke. She was taking Hanna's layman's explanation and putting it through all the changes.

  "Of course," she said after a minute of near paralysis. "The best way to interpret all that visual information from everybody's implant is to render it in 3-D, and the best way to do that is in a tank. That's why you need all that hardware," she said, looking again at the bank of processors. "At first I thought it was overkill on the computing power, but now I have a hard time believing it's enough. Processing all that data should take twice what you've got here."

  Duncan smirked. "We've come up with a few short-cuts, but we really need someone like you to help us find new ones."

  Chapter 14

  Jeremy had no doubt of it, now. The only reason he was being paraded around the office several times a day was to keep an eye out for net spies. He resented that they didn't have the decency to tell him this -- as if he couldn't figure it out on his own -- so he decided to see the boss about it.

  What is it with these people? he wondered as he walked down the main corridor to the corner office. Jeremy imagined a disturbing trend in agency actions: they had a habit of using people and not caring how they felt about it.

  He paused in the hall, realizing that he didn't know who the agent-in-charge of this particular office was. That was easy to solve, he realized, and called up the roster, which was updated continuously as Peter deployed his resources into new positions. He noted with satisfaction that he was assigned to this office as a "special agent."

  "Oh, that's just great," he said aloud when he noticed who the AIC was.

  "What's just great, Mr. Mitchell?" a familiar voice said from just ahead of him in the hall. The AIC himself had come out of his office.

  "I just found out that you're in charge here," Jeremy said, realizing he was now right outside the man's office.

  "And do you have a problem with that?" Lenzke asked. The question could have been the prelude to a fight coming from another man's lips. Lenzke said it more like someone performing a psychological diagnosis of a patient.

&
nbsp; "Nothing I can't manage," he wanted to say, but his better judgment prevailed.

  "I have a question about my assignment here," Jeremy said. "Can I have a minute of your time?"

  "Certainly," Lenzke said, walking past Jeremy back into his office. As he passed, Jeremy smelled something very faintly. He remembered it from somewhere -- something very recent -- but he couldn't place it. Jeremy followed Lenzke into the office, and, remembering his procedures, waited until the door was shut to speak.

  "It's fairly obvious why I've been assigned to this facility. Why hasn't anyone explained my mission? Why all this nonsense about meeting people on the other side of the building?"

  Lenzke looked confused, and then laughed. "You're right, it's obvious why you're here. You're supposed to be smart enough to figure out obvious things, Mr. Mitchell. Do you think all the training we've been giving you is so we can hand-hold you through every assignment?"

  Jeremy hadn't thought of it that way, and he felt stupid. He couldn't have expected them to tell the hired hands to take him around the office so he could look for invisible spies. That was need-to-know information, and the work staff didn't need to know. He also realized that he had been thinking of his work with the agency as a kind of master-slave relationship. But he wasn't merely a hired hand. He was supposed to think for himself and take initiative, provided he kept within the lines.

  "You're right," he admitted.

  "Then you know what to do," Lenzke said. "But there is one thing I want to clarify. You are not to leave the facility, and you're on-call until further notice."

  * * *

  "The only way I can prove myself to you is to take you for a ride," Duncan said. Hanna didn't make the connection -- hadn't they just taken a ride in a hovercar? -- until MacKenzie looked over at the virtual reality tanks.

  "Let's suit up," Duncan said. MacKenzie nodded.

  Hanna had to convince herself that there was nothing inherently wrong with the tanks. Just because people use them for creepy stuff doesn't mean they're inherently creepy, she told herself as she followed Duncan and MacKenzie to a bank of doors that looked like dressing rooms. She glanced at MacKenzie before she went in, seeking some assurance. MacKenzie gave her the thumbs up and they both went in.

  The dressing room was small, and there were no directions. Hanna wasn't quite sure what to do.

  To MacKenzie. Chat mode requested.

  Accepted.

  What do we do?

  In my room there are shelves on the left side. Do you have any?

  Hanna looked around. Yes, on the back wall, she said.

  The lowest drawer is the smallest suit -- child size. You'll probably wear the suit in the fourth one up.

  Hanna opened the drawer and pulled out the suit. It was a thin, black material, similar to something she had seen in MacKenzie's computer lab. The fabric was a complicated web of fibers that provided the computer interface with dual interactivity. Every time the person wearing the suit moved, the fibers registered the change and sent the appropriate signals through the interface. Similarly, the virtual reality program could send a signal to the suit that would simulate a punch to the midsection, or the feeling of water against the skin, or a kiss.

  Once the suit was on, Hanna was somewhat surprised at how loose it was. How could it measure her movements if it sagged so much? She walked out of the dressing room looking like someone who had lost 100 pounds in two months.

  "No, silly," MacKenzie said, and Hanna noticed that MacKenzie's suit was skin tight. "You look like an elephant. You've got to turn it on." She reached up to the side of Hanna's goggles and pressed a button. Hanna's suit immediately tightened up over her whole body. The sensation was almost like diving into water.

  "There," MacKenzie said. "Hey, you look good in that," she said, looking her over. Hanna struck a model's pose and smiled.

  "If you two are ready, we can go in now," Duncan said, business-like, as usual. Hanna tried very hard not to notice how the suit accommodated Duncan's anatomy below the waist.

  The three of them looked like scuba divers in their tight black suits as they walked up the steep stairway to the top of the VR tanks. Three were open, revealing the clean solution they were about to plunge into. If the water had been cloudy, as it was in some of the seedier VR shops, Hanna could have seen the crisscrossing laser beams that continuously monitored the rider's position in the tank.

  "Okay," Duncan instructed. "After you jump in, throw this switch on your goggles." He indicated which one, and Hanna reached up to touch hers. "That will shut off all outside light and enable you to see the VR images. You might be disoriented for a second or two. Don't worry about it. We're all going to the same location, so just look for me and follow."

  "How do we follow you?" Hanna asked. "I've never done this before."

  "You can just walk around, like you would in real life, but we're going to be moving a little faster than that. When you want to move, tap the button on your right wrist and point in the direction you want to go. The longer you point the more you'll accelerate. You stop by making a fist. Don't worry, you'll catch on." Without waiting for a reply he jumped into his tank. MacKenzie followed immediately, and Hanna, still telling herself it was okay, went last.

  * * *

  When Hanna opened her eyes she was standing in the middle of the warehouse, facing in the direction of the virtual reality tanks. But she knew her body wasn't actually there. For a moment she wasn't certain if she was really in Duncan's warehouse, but as she looked around at the physical features of the room, it was clearly the same building. The three windows were on the east wall, where they should have been. The support beams were all in the right places. The southeast corner had that peculiar corner wall she had noticed, but the contents of the room were all wrong. Instead of computers, workers, VR tanks, offices and empty pizza boxes, there were wooden crates.

  Then she noticed workers milling about, checking the crates, moving them from place to place, opening one and closing another. As she studied the things in the room she noticed that some things looked very real, while others had a computer-generated look. Even some of the faces had it. One man who was working by himself seemed to be almost completely an animation. There was something about the texture of his clothes that wasn't right. It looked too perfect to be real. But the thing that disturbed Hanna the most was when she saw the man's desktop floating in front of him. She was too far away to make out what he was doing, but she was sure that she would be able to read it if she got closer. It gave her a guilty feeling, as if she was trespassing, or a peeping Tom. But she knew that none of these people were really in the warehouse. It had to be some kind of computer-generated illusion.

  MacKenzie moved next to her, or, rather, the virtual image of MacKenzie moved next to the virtual image of Hanna.

  This is weird, Hanna sent, remembering that they were still in chat mode.

  "We can talk, you know," MacKenzie's image said aloud. "Nobody can hear us unless they're in the same program, which for us just means Duncan. You can do just about anything in here that you can do in real life -- that's the idea, remember?"

  Hanna reached over and touched MacKenzie's shoulder. It felt like she was really touching her shoulder, but she knew that both their bodies were actually suspended in tanks of liquid about 15 feet from one another. And they were wearing those black VR suits, but MacKenzie's image was wearing blue overalls, a red turtle-neck and a pair of walking shoes. They had to be virtual clothes, because MacKenzie didn't own a pair of overalls. Hanna was suddenly concerned about what she was wearing and looked down at herself. She was dressed exactly the same, only her shirt was blue. MacKenzie laughed.

  "Don't worry," she said, "I took care of it for you. I didn't think you wanted to go for a walk with Duncan while you were buck naked. Virtually, that is."

  "Thanks," Hanna said, and giggled. "But what is this place? It's not Duncan's warehouse, but it looks the same."

  "I suspect he's figured a way to put a fal
se signal on the hole so nobody can spy on his operations."

  Duncan came out of the bathroom a moment later.

  "I forgot to go before," he said. Hanna didn't even want to think about how that worked. "But let's get going." He pointed to a control panel on his wrist that had four buttons. Hanna noticed that she and MacKenzie had one too. Duncan pointed to the lower left button so Hanna could see what he was doing, then he pressed it and pointed straight up with his right index finger. His body began to accelerate toward the ceiling.

  "If I can touch you," Hanna said to MacKenzie, "doesn't that mean that he'll smash into the ceiling?"

  MacKenzie reached out and put her arm right through Hanna. "Once you touch this button, everything becomes transolid. Let's go," she said.

  As soon as Hanna pushed the button she could no longer feel her body weight pressing her feet against the floor, although she was still standing in the same place. She looked, pointed up and watched as the ceiling got closer and closer. She winced as her head came in contact with the virtual ceiling, but in an instant she was through. It was an amazing sight. She was looking at the roof of the warehouse, but as she continued to ascend her field of vision grew wider, taking in the surrounding parking lot and a moment later several city blocks.

  * * *

  Jeremy realized that the rest of the workers at his new assignment had no idea what he was up to and, now self-conscious of his mission, he tried to forestall any unwanted questions. He had to come up with a reasonable excuse for his wanderings.

  He was taking a walk now, somewhat more comfortable with the lay of the facility, and he glanced down one of the hallways to see a bank of terminals. The facility was crammed full of electronic devices of all kinds. He knew that some electronic devices interfered with implant communications, and he suspected the workers would blame them for any random noise, since humans naturally look for patterns in events. He decided to pretend that he was doing a study on the implant communications glitches the workers experienced while they were in the office. He would make his rounds every day, ask everyone on duty whether or not they had had any problems with their implants, and, if necessary, he would imply that there was some suspicion of interference from the electronic equipment.