by KB Shaw
• • •
“THE DIFFERENCE IS,” said Max, “Rosa’s pendant is not only an IDO; it is the IHT transmitter as well. Anyone wearing an IDO within a 10 foot radius of her transmitter can participate in the simulation.”
• • •
LIKE ALL THE OTHER REPS with the other families around the world, Debbie and Max had their wards settled into comfortable seats by noon, Oslo time.
• • •
THE FIRST THING Cameron noticed was the room didn’t turn to gelatin. It just sort of started to fade away then magically dissolved into a large auditorium. He recognized it at once. It was the place in which the demonstration was held. Rosa appeared, in tones of gray, to his right. Malik and his family faded in two rows ahead of them and Cameron could hear Becky’s unmistakable giggle from behind and to his left.
“Rosa, Cameron!” she called across the hall as she gave her excited little wave. “And Malik!” she cried joyously when she discovered him.
Malik tried to act like the responsible older brother. He smiled pleasantly and gave each of them a curt, two-fingered salute in greeting. But he couldn’t hold out this display of maturity for long. He suddenly rose in his seat, turned to face his new friends, and shouted “Yeah!” He thrust both hands high into the air in a gesture of victory.
“It’s good to be a geek!”
The hall exploded with cheers and laughter in response.
“Go on,” came a woman’s voice from the podium. Gwen Johanssen stood at center stage, dressed in an expensive business suit. “You deserve to congratulate yourselves. Students, families, stand up and cheer!”
The room got even louder and more raucous. Students and families were leaning to the rows in front and behind, spontaneously introducing themselves to their neighbors.
Gwen Johanssen let the celebration go on until it started to subside on its own before she pounded a gavel on the podium and called the group to order. “Well, you’ve finally made it.”
More applause.
“The IHT Academy will officially open its doors on Monday.”
A burst of cheers.
Gwen held up her hands in an effort to suppress the cheering. She couldn’t help but laugh as the hall finally became silent. “Now, if you keep interrupting like that, these boring opening remarks could take an hour.” She paused dramatically and surveyed the audience with an authoritative gaze. “I don’t know about you, but I want to get to the good stuff!”
Pandemonium ran rampant through the hall on that remark, just as she had expected. She turned to search for the man deep in the shadows of the auditorium’s backstage area. She could sense the motion of his hands applauding in the darkness. She smiled as she once again struck the gavel weakly on the podium. “Order,” she said so softly that the din of excitement drowned it out. Finally, she gestured with her index finger making small circles above her head, as if to say “crank it up.”
A deep, resonating roll of kettledrums filled the voluminous cavern of the auditorium. The hall quickly settled down into something that resembled order.
Gwen again surveyed the audience, playing the moment. She sipped at a glass of water then slowly shuffled through the thick stack of papers that was her speech. She looked up from her notes with a sly grin and paused. Beginning with an apologetic tone, she started to speak, “Please pardon my language, but… to hell with it!” She tossed her notes high above her head. As they started to drift back to earth, they froze in mid-air — hanging there like a giant grey chrysanthemum bloom.
The audience, as one, held its breath in anticipation of the flurry of papers resuming their fall.
She continued in her best ringmaster voice, “Students, families, faculty, and honored guests! The good stuff! IHT version 1.0!”
It started at the center of the suspended faux flower, and radiated outwards in all directions. Color! The paper petals blossomed in a rainbow of brilliant shades. As each petal flushed with its vibrant hue, it began to drift downward, only to dissolve into nothingness before touching the ground. The audience ooh-ed and ah-ed as if they were at a display of fireworks.
The growing sphere of chromatic tones reached the back wall of the stage, which not only changed colors but also transformed into a colonnade of thin, spiraling pillars. The floor flattened out to one level wherever the color bled. It was a vast mosaic of polished marble. The change of scene had the fluidity of a dream. The ever-expanding transformation revealed a grand ballroom topped by an ornate gold, blue, and white vaulted ceiling supported by the stone columns. Immense crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and other cut-crystal lighting fixtures adorned every other column. Beyond the colonnade, which encircled the entire room, was a sweeping balcony that overlooked a moonlit valley with a peaceful river running through it.
A platform with elaborately carved railings rose from the floor at one edge of the room. It completely filled the space between two sets of columns. As Gwen Johanssen ascended to the platform, the ballroom dimmed. The audience was awestruck, for as she climbed the stairs, her dark blue business suit was transformed into a stunning gown of shimmering blue and silver; a delicate mask of satin and feathers graced her face. A soft pool of light illuminated her as she stood atop the dais.
“We thought, as an icebreaker, a masked ball would be in order.” With a sweeping gesture of spreading arms, like Moses, Gwen seemed to cast a spell over the gathering. But instead of parting waters, members of the audience were randomly placed within the ballroom. Each was clothed and masked in a grand style.
Chapter 22:
Lost and Found
THE ORDERS Gwen gave were very clear. “Do not remove your masks as you seek the others in your group. Take your time and visit with the person standing next to you. Get to know the person behind the mask. But first, the surprises aren’t over.” With a regal wave of her hand, a cool breeze wafted through the ballroom. It bore the pleasant scent of the pine forest that blanketed the valley visible beyond the balcony.
“If we can smell the fragrant pine, can the sense of taste be far behind?” With another wave, tables laden with food and drink appeared at intervals around the balcony. The aroma of roast turkey and beef became mixed with the sweet odor of pine. “Don’t worry, the food is totally non-fattening!” Laughter rippled through the masked guests. “Eating imaginary food may be the most bizarre part of the IHT world we have created for our students, but in our cultural studies we thought the act of eating was an important social function to experience.”
She started to leave the dais but turned back to the onlookers. “Oh, one more thing. Some of you may have noticed, there are more people here now than there were before we moved you all about. To be honest, there really aren’t more people here—just more personalities.” Another wave and a string quartet appeared on the balcony and began playing Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. “IHT technology has allowed us to give bodies to our AI personalities, some of whom are our guests tonight. Can you tell the real people from our special guests?” With that, the spotlight faded. The ballroom settled into a patchwork of warm chandelier light and cool moonlight from outside.
The search was on!
• • •
ROSA WAS BURSTING at the seams to talk everything over with Cameron; however, it was going to be next to impossible to find him in this forest of people. It was at times like this she really hated being not so tall.
Okay, she admitted to herself, I’m short!
The silly masks only made her task that much worse.
Cameron knows I’m vertically challenged, she reasoned. He knows the trouble I’ll have finding him in this crowd. Which means he’ll come to me—I should stay put. But where’s the best place to stand?
By looking at the ceiling, she judged she was about in the center of the room. Logically, the two best places to wait would be either here, at the center of the room, or along the balcony rail.
She weighed the options. It’s crowded here, but there is only one center of
the room. On the other hand, it’s not crowded on the balcony.
Rosa’s problem was solved by the sound of a distinctive giggle coming from somewhere behind her. No mask or wall of people could keep Rosa, or Cameron, from finding Becky Weingold. Rosa started in the direction of the giggling but halted when it stopped. She listened intently. There it was again. A few steps, then listened again. Moving and listening, it was like playing a game of “Marco Polo” in a swimming pool crammed with people or like a ship watching for the pulsating beacon of a lighthouse through a thick fog. It took a full five minutes before Rosa broke through the edge of the crowd. Standing no more than three feet away from her were Becky, Cameron, and Malik. Cameron pulled a gold watch from his pocket and flipped open the cover. He examined it closely, then with a feigned expression of puzzlement, he looked at Rosa. “What took you so long?”
Rosa shot Cameron a penetrating look. “Has anyone told you that you look absolutely evil in that mask?”
“You’re right, he does!” said Becky, giggling.
• • •
AT FIVE-FOOT-TEN, Meagan Fletcher was not a short woman, but she had a similar problem to Rosa’s. She had absolutely no idea what X-Boy looked like. She had to wait for X-Boy, or rather, Gus, to find her. Considering the nature of their meeting, the crowded center of the ballroom was not a good place to wait, so she chose a place on the balcony rail that was near one of the food tables.
Her reporter instincts compelled her to sample the simulated food. She tried various bits of the virtual feast and had a mixed reaction. Most of the food tasted close to the real thing. However, many didn’t quite have the right texture, or, how could she describe it? Chewiness? It just didn’t feel right in her mouth. The warmth or chill of this food or that wasn’t quite right either. And drinks were really weird. Meagan assembled a new sampling of food on what appeared to be a fine China plate, grabbed a glass of virtual wine in an elegant crystal glass, and retired to the balcony railing. She set the plate and the glass on the balustrade and enjoyed the beautiful vista that stretched out below her before deciding to try some of the smoked salmon.
She stabbed at the faux fish with her fork and lifted it to her mouth. Her lips closed around the morsel, delicately plucking it from the fork. The instant the simulated salmon touched her tongue, Meagan Fletcher’s gag reflex kicked into gear. Her throat closed off, her stomach twisted into a knot, and her face distorted with a sour look. The awful taste and slimy texture had a quick and violent effect on the reporter. She grabbed the railing and leaned over the edge of the balcony, sending her plate, glass, and fork plummeting to the forest below. Then her throat was pressured open by the rush of compressed air forced up by her constricting stomach. In short, she gagged and expelled the offending fake food from her mouth with a violent cough. The wedge of salmon hurtled twelve feet before dissolving into thin air.
She was still gagging and spitting, trying to purge her mouth of the wretched taste, when someone approached. He was laughing. “In an experiment, one can find success even in failure.” He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and offered it to Meagan. “Don’t you agree, Ms. Fletcher?”
Meagan did not take the offered hanky. The man touched the side of his mouth with his index finger and extended the hanky a little further. Meagan took the hint—and the handkerchief. Embarrassed, she turned away from the man to hide the action of wiping her mouth. Finished with the quick cleanup, she turned back, smiled, neatly folded the square of white cotton, and offered it back to the man.
The man made a big show of rejecting the offer by clasping his hands behind his back. “No, you keep it,” he said with good humor. “It isn’t real anyway, is it?”
Meagan smiled at that. “Gus?” she asked after a brief moment of trying to see the man beneath the mask and broad-brimmed hat.
The man bowed slightly in answer to her question.
“It would take a die-hard company man like yourself to have the nerve to call that horrific attempt at simulated food a success.”
“Look at it this way,” said the man. “The simulation was good enough to get your body to react, no matter how badly, to something that didn’t really exist. I call that a success. We just have to fine-tune the salmon.”
“Somehow, I think you won that argument.”
When Meagan reached toward the man’s mask, he grabbed her wrist. “No,” he said.
“I know who you are, Gus. Well, maybe not who you are, but what you are.” Meagan felt the change in his grip. She knew she had caught Gus, if that was his real name, off guard. “I know you’re the ‘Boy Wonder.’ You’re the inventor of the multiCom and the IHT. You’re the brains behind GundTech.”
He released Meagan’s wrist and turned to the railing. “Nonsense!” He forced a laugh and tried to act controlled. “There’s no way anyone could trace my friend’s identity.”
“I didn’t say I traced your identity. I simply said I know you are the head of GundTech.” He didn’t reply. Meagan pressed on. “You want to know how? Wanna know how I know? Programmer’s pride! That’s how. I had Jason analyze every bit of his internal code, and you know what he found? In two places, the programmer left his signature, his handle, or whatever you call it—X-Boy. Even back then you called yourself X-Boy. So there you have it, Bob’s your uncle!”
The man straightened and turned on her suddenly, Meagan took a fearful step backward. His costumed figure looked ominous as he reached out and grabbed her by both shoulders. He was grinning wildly under his mask. “Ha!”
A chill ran up the reporter’s spine.
“You exceeded even my expectations, Ms. Fletcher! You’re exactly the person I need!”
Meagan felt the friendly squeeze of her shoulders in gentle hands. The man’s actions were not a threat, but a gesture of congratulations.
“May I call you Meagan?”
Meagan felt the warm flush of embarrassment on her face. “I’m sorry, I thought…”
It was the man’s turn to be embarrassed. He withdrew his hands from her shoulders. “I frightened you! I… I… I didn’t mean to.” The man turned so his back was to the crowd inside the ballroom. He raised his mask, revealing a kind face and thoughtful eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, I apologize! I was not being rational. I’m just the suspicious sort, I fear.”
“Perhaps that is why you became a reporter.”
“Perhaps.” She looked deep into his eyes for a few moments then said, “The answer is yes.”
“Yes? To what?”
“Yes, you may call me Meagan. Yes, I want the exclusive story on the IHT. Yes, I want your story, too.” She took his hands in hers. “And yes, I will help you fight whatever you fear is threatening you.”
“This is not the time or place for dark thoughts. It’s a time for celebration! We will meet in person on Monday, if that is okay with you.” Meagan nodded in reply. “Good. I’ll have my private jet pick you up. Enough of business then,” he said brightly. He lowered his mask and offered Meagan his arm. “Shall we dance?”
• • •
A TALL MAN and a beautiful woman walked past the four American students and started to dance to a waltz the string quartet began to play. Many of the adults also began to dance.
“Those two!” Rosa sounded assured in her assessment.
The others examined the couple.
“What’s your reasoning?” asked Malik.
“They’re too perfect,” said Rosa.
“Like out of a fairy tale,” said Becky with a sigh.
Rosa sounded triumphant. “My point exactly.”
“I have to agree,” said Cameron. “D’you notice how the waltz started exactly when they reached the ballroom floor?”
Malik continued that thought, “So their actions were timed with the simulation!” He gave Rosa a pat on the back. “Good job, Costas. Those two are definitely AIs.”
Gwen Johanssen watched the dancing couple as she approached the four students. “Hello,” she
said. Malik, Rosa and Cameron were tongue-tied. Becky giggled nervously. Gwen’s eyes lit up with recognition. “You must be Miss Weingold.” Becky didn’t know how to act, so she curtsied awkwardly. “And that would make you three the rest of the American students.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Rosa.
“I think the point of this gathering is to meet new people, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” said Malik.
“Then what are you waiting for? Scatter yourselves to the four winds.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Cameron as they fanned out into the ballroom.
Chapter 23:
The Remarkable Room
THE MAN sitting in the chair opened his eyes with a start as if awakening from a dream. It took a second to remember where he was. His eyes focused on the illuminated painting hanging on the dark-paneled wall in front of him. He smiled slightly. It was a thin smile of satisfaction.
The man lifted himself from the chair and approached the painting. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the four people it depicted. He had known who the tall blond man and dark haired woman were for some time, and now the boy and girl had been revealed to him. He shook his head in wonder.
You have innocently traveled your separate paths to arrive at his point in time, he thought. Perhaps ignorance is bliss. How else could you have enjoyed this eventful time? If you had been aware of the trials you will soon face and have already endured, would you have embarked upon this journey?
The man extended his arm and gently placed the palm of his hand upon the picture. A shiver coursed through his body.
Would you retreat now if you knew that your destinies were about to converge? Would you run away if you knew about the warning?
The man withdrew his hand, stood silently for a moment, then his body seemed to droop as he surrendered the exhaustion he had been fighting off for days. Slowly, he turned to leave. He walked past the chair and faded into the deep recesses of the shadows beyond. There was a mechanical click and a soft whir as the hidden door swung open. A flood of cool moonlight washed through from the glass-domed hall that lay beyond.