by D. L. Line
“What happened?” asked Shelby.
“It was a hiccup in the system. The client was on a vacation, rock climbing in Yosemite. This guy was an expert climber. He even consulted with us before he took his trip to help perfect the scenario. He fell while he was climbing, and I guess he died in the scenario because he woke abruptly. No one was in the room until the alarms went off, but we were in there within seconds. We calmed him down, gave him a credit, and suggested he go get checked out at the hospital. Really, we didn’t think much of it. Shit happens with computers. There is always the potential for error, but we thought we were well within acceptable parameters. Now, I just don’t know.”
“What happened to him, to the climber?”
Lois took a long slug of her drink. “He’s in a coma. He started having bad headaches. He said he felt like his skull was being crushed.”
Shelby idly rubbed at her forehead. “Like he fell off a cliff and landed on his head.”
“Right,” Lois said. “Anyway, one night he had a major seizure and slipped into a coma. When he didn’t show up to work, his boss called the police, and they broke into his apartment. Head Trip is paying for a very expensive clinic stay in another state.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because I’ve been there since the beginning. I have clearance, access to everything. At least I did until today. When Andrew shut down the system, he also canceled everyone’s clearance. He says we’ll be up and running again next week, and we’ll all be paid for the time off. That’s when I knew something was up. Andrew isn’t that generous.”
“So what about my vacation? What happened?”
“I can only assume you died in your scenario.”
Shelby rubbed at her forehead and nodded. “Getting shot in the head will do that, yeah, but that wasn’t part of what I asked for on my vacation. I mean I wanted a spy adventure, sure, but I was supposed to be the hero, not the dipshit who gets shot in the head for being so stupid.”
“I know. That climber didn’t pay to fall off the mountain either. You see, the programming has a certain amount of free will. It generates responses to the client’s actions according to the information it collects from the mapping procedure. We always knew there was potential for a vacation to end unsatisfactorily. You know, geeky guy can’t actually get the supermodel into bed, that sort of thing, but we didn’t imagine any of this would happen. We had no way of anticipating that any of this could have physical ramifications outside of the virtual scenario.”
“So what do you think happened in my trip? Why am I having seizures and why is Tasha still talking to me?”
Lois looked surprised. “Tasha is still talking to you? Wasn’t she the bad guy in your scenario?”
Shelby nodded and sipped at her drink. “Yeah, that’s exactly what she was. She was also based on a physical scan of a real person who never gave her permission for Andrew to use her image.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Andrew has been doing that. Flip-flopping scanned images from other people without their knowledge so he doesn’t have to pay for the rights.”
“Asshole. That certainly explains how Trish wound up in my vacation.”
“It does. And I’m pretty sure that’s why Tasha is still talking to you. It’s hard to explain.” Lois swirled her scotch and took another long drink.
“Try. I’m a programmer too. Explain it to me.”
“Okay. It’s like this. When we program characters for each vacation, we build a complete individual. The personality, physical characteristics, everything. So since your Tasha was a hybrid program, when you died in the scenario, the program crashed. That’s why you got thrown out of the trip and it also explains why she’s still in your head. It’s kind of like, what was the name of that really buggy old word processing program that everyone used to use?”
“Microsoft Office?”
“Yeah, that one. I learned about it in school. It used to do this thing. If your computer shut down unexpectedly while you were working on a document, Office would get wonky. Sometimes your work would disappear, sometimes it would add really bizarre characters and numbers, stuff like that.” Lois took another drink. “You never knew what would happen, so most people just got used to hitting the Save button a lot. Crappy old program.”
“It really was. But I’m still not sure that I understand how that applies to my Head Trip.”
Lois blew out a long breath and scratched at her head. “The way the vacation works is that we write a computer program and the new technology allows us to use your brain like a hard drive. When your scenario crashed, the Tasha program continued to run in your brain. It’s basically implanted memories, except—”
“Except, now instead of running on your mega system, it’s—”
“Running in your head. Right. And the only way to get it to stop is to go back into your scenario and let it play out. Shut the program down properly. That should also shut down the program in your head, and hopefully, stop your headaches and seizures.”
“Should? Hopefully?” Shelby didn’t like the idea of going back into her Head Trip and dealing with Tasha face-to-face. “I don’t want to go back in there. Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Lois was adamant. “I know that’s what you need to do.”
Shelby really didn’t like that idea, but if it was necessary… “All right.” She took a long swig of her drink. “Is this what the climber guy needs to do too? I mean, he’s comatose in a hospital now, but—”
Lois shook her head. “We could do that, but he needs to be conscious for us to get access. I’m afraid he’s had too much brain damage at this point.”
“Makes sense.” Shelby felt a little sick. She really had to go back and face Tasha one more time. “But once you knew people were suffering, why didn’t it stop?”
“Money. Nothing else. Andrew decided he didn’t want to pay outsiders for their mapping rights anymore. He began reusing client maps in other scenarios. I guess he figured no one would ever catch on, and he could always weasel his way out of it if anyone became suspicious.”
“But what about the people who got hurt? The people like me?”
“At first, Andrew assured everyone he had hired outside contractors to help with the programming, to try to make the security protocols failsafe. I don’t know if any of that was true. The only thing I know for sure is those guys in the suits turned out to be government types from the Department of Defense. Head Trip now has a huge contract with the U.S. government, which is extremely interested in using our technology for military simulations. I guess Andrew has decided there is no way he can give up the contract.”
“We’ve got to tell someone, Lois. What’s going to happen when soldiers start lapsing into comas after they die in virtual training? This is crazy. There is no way we can let this happen.”
“I know. That’s why I came to you. When you showed up at the office today with Miss Aronoff, well, I told you how upset it made Andrew. I heard there was talk of an attorney, and I figured if you told the attorney what I have told you, then Andrew could be stopped.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?”
“Look, Miss Hutchinson, I could give you a whole lot of reasons, like all the problems fell within statistical norms, or every Head Trip client signs a release, and all of those reasons would be technically true. The thing is the situation is wrong. I know that at a gut level, and the only reason I haven’t gone to the police is that I’m scared. Andrew flat-out scares me.”
Shelby was afraid she was losing Lois. Maybe she shouldn’t have bought that last drink for her. She leaned in close to Lois, who had put her head down on her folded arms. “Lois, I’m going to put you in a cab and send you home. Thank you for all your help. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Thank you, Miss Hutchinson. I’m sorry about all this. This should never have happened to you or anyone else. I’m fine, really. I can get home on my own.”
“Not in your car.” Shelby signaled
to Mike. “Can I get a cab for me and one for my friend, please?”
Mike nodded and reached for the phone.
*
Shelby burst through the door of her apartment, pulling off her mittens and unwrapping her scarf. “You will not believe what I just found out!”
She remembered that Jake had said he would wait for her, but pulled up when she saw who else was waiting for her in her kitchen. “Tash—Trish? What’s going on?”
“Trish’s apartment was broken into tonight, Shel.”
She looked from Jake to Trish, taking in his worried expression and her exhaustion. She slipped onto the kitchen stool next to Trish and squeezed her arm. “What happened? Are you okay? Did you call the police?”
Trish took a sip from her wineglass and made a weak attempt at a smile. “I’m okay, and yes, I called the police. After I left you today, I went back to the office, and after I explained that I hadn’t been to a funeral or a wedding or a job interview, I tried to find some info on Head Trip. I guess time got away from me, because when I looked up it was already six o’clock. I think it’s probably a good thing I was late or I may have run into my visitors before they were done trashing my place. I didn’t know anything until I walked into the apartment. The bastards had even locked the door on the way out. They completely wrecked the place, which pisses me off because they got what they wanted. They didn’t need to cut up my mattress.”
“What did they want?”
“The only thing missing from the apartment is my Head Trip contract.”
“Well, we’ve got them then. What did the police say?”
“I didn’t tell them. They thought it was probably meth addicts who broke in looking for money and then trashed the place when they didn’t find any.”
“I don’t get it. Why didn’t you tell them?”
Jake chimed in. “She didn’t tell them because she got scared, Shel, and you should be too. These people aren’t messing around, and they evidently know how to cover their tracks, not to mention send a message. Trish wanted to talk to you before she did anything else.”
Shelby began to wonder how long these two had been sitting here plotting. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. It’s just that I found out some stuff about Head Trip tonight. They really are in it up to their necks. Lois and I were talking about going to the police. Heat of the moment, you know?”
“Who’s Lois?” asked Trish.
Shelby proceeded to tell them about her meeting with Lois at O’Donnell’s. She included every detail she could remember from the time she arrived at the pub to her last minutes with Lois, tucking her safely into a cab and sending her home.
“So Head Trip knew there was a possibility you could be injured?” Jake asked.
Shelby nodded. “Me and anyone else who takes a virtual vacation with them.”
“And they used my image because they were trying to save a buck?” Trish was obviously disgusted.
“Yeah, I guess old Andrew wanted to show the feds he was running a squeaky-clean, by-the-book kind of business. I think he cut a lot of corners to get that contract, and now people are getting hurt. Asshole.”
“Agreed, so let’s just see how Andrew looks to his government buddies after I get done with him.” Trish set her glass down. “I’m going to head back home and start cleaning up. Then tomorrow I’m going to start pushing until I get something concrete on Weasel Boy, and then I’m going to sit back and watch his little virtual world come crashing in on him. Do you think Lois will testify against him? At least tell the D.A. what she knows?”
“It’ll take some persuasion. She’s scared, but I think she’ll do the right thing. I’ll call her tomorrow. Listen, Trish, why don’t you let us take you home? You could probably use some help cleaning up, and I feel responsible for your place getting tossed anyway.”
“Why on earth do you feel responsible?”
“If it hadn’t been for them using your image in my vacation—”
“Then they would have used it in someone else’s. At least you’re cute.”
Trish’s words dropped into the room like a pebble into smooth water. Shelby could feel her eyes getting bigger and watched as a flush of pink crept up from Trish’s collar to the roots of her hair. She licked her lips and started to speak, but Jake broke the silence.
“Okay, girls, I like to clean a trashed apartment as much as the next guy, but I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be there. Everyone could just stay here. It could be like a slumber party. I’ll pop popcorn. You guys can do each other’s hair. It’ll be great.”
Trish laughed as she slipped off her stool. “That does sound like fun, I have to admit, but it’s probably safer at my place than it is here. They’ve already been there and gotten what they wanted. They aren’t coming back tonight. The police have put an extra patrol unit on the block. They’d have to be stupid to come back, and I think we’ve already determined they aren’t stupid.” She turned to Shelby. “So yeah, I’d love the help if you’re still offering. I know it’s late, but I don’t think I’ll be going to sleep anytime soon. My car’s parked on the street. We could all pile in. I live close to the El so you can get to work in the morning. I mean, if you still want to.”
Shelby’s insides felt squishy. She was having a hard time not staring at Trish in a completely obvious way. Between clandestine meetings, robbery, and beautiful women, she was having trouble keeping her adrenaline in check.
She is a handsome woman, indeed, Shelby Hutchinson.
Very funny, Tasha. She looks exactly like you.
Yes, I know.
“Shel, you with us?” asked Jake.
“Yeah, sure, just foggy.” She caught Jake’s eye and recognized the look she got every time she drifted off into Tashaland. “Let’s go.”
*
Shelby’s only personal contact with crime was from the shows she watched on television. In those, the detectives were strong, smart, and solved the crime in an hour. When she looked at the disaster that was Trish’s apartment, she wondered how anyone could ever find anything in the mess that could be considered a clue. Broken glass littered the floor, couch cushions were strewn from the living room all the way down the hall. Every drawer in the kitchen had been emptied. Utensils lay like so many pickup sticks in the middle of the tile floor, covered in spilled food from the pantry, which also stood open. Over it all, the fine dark fingerprint powder used by the police had filtered onto everything. This was going to take more than an hour to clear up.
“Oh my God, Trish. I am so sorry.”
Trish stepped over a broken picture frame and hung her coat in the closet by the front door. “You know what? It’s okay. It’ll get cleaned up. No use crying over spilled—everything.” She gestured halfheartedly to her surroundings and let her hands fall to her sides.
Shelby’s heart sank when she saw how resigned Trish looked, but who could blame her? Her entire life had been turned upside down in the course of a couple of days. Shelby could feel the beginnings of a headache and willed it away. She was not going to lose time to that now. She was going to help Trish clean up this mess, catch a couple hours of sleep, and then call Lois at Head Trip in the morning. She was not about to let that rat-faced loser Andrew get away with hurting innocent people any longer.
“Show me where they found your contract. Maybe they left something behind the police didn’t notice.”
“Sure, it was on my desk in my room. I had it out looking at it before we met with Andrew to see if I could use it against him. It’s just back here.” Trish led Shelby carefully through the living room and down the hallway to her bedroom.
Trish’s bedroom looked like the same tornado had passed through. Papers littered her desktop and the floor. Bedside lamps were toppled; dresser drawers had been dumped. The bed itself was a ruin; the mattress showed deep slashes through the fabric all the way to the inner coils.
“I’ll miss that bed.” Trish sighed.
Shelby slipped an arm around Trish’s sh
oulders. “Hey, you said it yourself. It’ll get cleaned up. If you want, I’ll help you shop for new stuff. I am a star shopper.”
Trish leaned into Shelby. “I’ll bet you are, and that would be great, but why don’t we wait until Andrew is locked up in a tiny cage somewhere? I’d hate to get new stuff and have this happen all over again.” Trish stopped leaning, which was too bad because Shelby really liked how it felt. “Come on, you can look at the desk while I try to put my underwear drawer back together.”
Careful not to disturb anything, Shelby crossed to the desk and righted the lamp that was lying on its side. She blew on the papers on the desk, trying to dislodge the fingerprint powder that covered everything. She began sorting through the papers, making stacks, and in the process began learning more and more about Trish Aronoff. For instance, most people didn’t have all these papers. Most people kept their records on disk or online where they were safe. Trish certainly wasn’t a Luddite; she had a computer, a mobile phone, all the trappings of modern life. What was with all the paper? She also had photos, not digital images on a photocube, but real photos. Shelby found it hard not to look at them as she sorted through the mess. There were pictures of a little girl with her parents, the same little girl with a smaller boy. The little girl had to be Trish. The eyes gave her away. There were pictures of Trish, older now, with another young woman. A sister? A friend? No, in general people don’t kiss their friends like that. Shelby tucked the photo into the stack and kept sorting. She found Trish’s racquet club membership, her diploma from grad school, but nothing she thought of as a clue.
“Summa cum laude, huh? Not bad.”
“What? Oh that. Yeah, I was always a good student. How about you?”
Shelby shrugged. “Yeah, I did okay.” She pushed back from the desk. “I’m not finding anything here. At least nothing I think doesn’t belong here. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” answered Trish, back to folding and stuffing.
“Why all the paper? And how did Andrew know you would have a copy of your contract anyway? That was a lucky shot on his part, wasn’t it?”