Virtual Murder

by Jennifer Macaire

  "You didn't find anything?” The Net Rep gazed over Monkey's head towards Sonia Andrews. “Then the two deaths must have been accidental. Nothing to do with the program at all. There's no killer virus."

  "I didn't say that,” Monkey began, but Frank Dinde motioned at him to be quiet.

  "I'll take care of everything. Tell Mr. Glover Brims,” Frank said to Mitch, “that we appreciate his control visit, but next time he should announce his arrival."

  "Monkey said it wasn't safe,” Mitch said, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the interview. Monkey gave him a thankful look.

  Frank made a negligent gesture. “M-18 said he didn't find anything, that there wasn't any virus within the program. That means that the program is perfectly safe, right, M-18?"

  "The program itself is safe,” Monkey said. “There is nothing wrong with the program. What I'm worried about is something coming from outside the program."

  There was a little silence while the Net employees thought about that. “If the tour operates from a secured location, there shouldn't be any outside agent invading the tour. It's impossible."

  "Nothing is impossible.” Monkey clenched his fists, looking towards Mitch for help. The problem was, there was no proof that anything was wrong.

  "Is the system secure or not?” Frank Dinde insisted.

  Monkey nodded absently. On one hand, he approved the secure system, and on the other, he thought it was possible to introduce a virus, but he didn't know of anyone capable of doing so.

  "You'll be remaining in Dallas, M-18,” Frank Dinde said. “Your assistance with an upgrade to the virus-catching program is necessary."

  "How long will he be here?” asked Mitch.

  "That is not for you to know.” Frank Dinde's eyes flashed with annoyance.

  Before they parted, Mitch gave Monkey his address and orders to call him as soon as possible. “Let me know what's going on,” he said, giving the mutant a quick hug.

  "Goodbye, Mitch.” Monkey watched as his friend was led out of the room, then turned to face Frank Dinde. “I'm tired. I'd like to lie down for a while."

  Frank expressed no surprise at this, despite the fact the mutant had been ‘sleeping’ for three days straight. “I'll have you escorted to your room,” he said with a nod towards one of the security guards.

  Monkey had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something bothering him and no one to talk to about it. Mitch was gone; now he was alone within the Net headquarters. He had no friends here. Frank Dinde, head of security, called him M-18 and refused to shake his hand. The others avoided eye contact and flinched if he accidentally brushed against them. Even Ms. Andrews, the head representative, looked at him as if he were a monster.

  When he arrived in his room, he wandered about a bit, looking out the window and flicking the television on and off. There was no shunt in his room, although there was a computer outlet in the wall. He called up a floating screen, but the only channels he could access were closed-circuit. He found the security channel and easily deactivated the block. Now he could see the whole building and watch Net Reps as they passed certain cameras. He amused himself by poking his finger through the screen and making ripples appear in their bodies. He swirled Ms. Andrews’ face into a grotesque blob.

  The paper with Mitch's address was folded and carefully tucked into his pocket. Every now and then his hand strayed to it and he touched it lightly. He'd heard that the program was to be re-opened the next day. His protest had gone unheeded because he couldn't pinpoint any actual errors. All he knew was that something had penetrated the program and had left without a trace. And there was no one capable of doing that unless it was one of the other mutants.

  He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall. His hand reached into his pocket and he drew out the folded paper Mitch gave him. He wouldn't call Mitch—the calls would all be monitored. But it made him feel better just to know he could. He unfolded the paper Mitch gave him, and a thin silver wire fell out. It winked in the light. Monkey held his breath and picked up the wire. Then his shoulders sagged in relief. It was a shunt.

  * * * *

  "Are you kidding?” Andrea slammed her fist on the desk. It didn't make the noise she wanted, so she picked up her serpentine pencil holder and hurled it onto the floor.

  The Net Rep, Ms. Andrews, didn't even blink as the green stone shattered. “I never kid. Tomorrow morning, six a.m., the president of the worldwide Net will be here in person to take a Virtual Tour. He will be accompanied by his staff and three bodyguards. They will all go on the tour with him. He has personally asked for Mitch to accompany him, and there will most likely be news coverage. You will have everything ready."

  "Mr. Megalot?” There was a catch in her voice.

  "President Megalot. Yes, he will be coming here tomorrow morning to partake in a Virtual Tour. It was his own idea.” The Net Rep rubbed her hands together.

  Andrea sat down in her chair. “Didn't you read the report, Ms. Andrews?"

  "Call me Sonia, please. I did, and it was quite clear to me. There was no sign of a virus of any kind. The ghost glitch never existed."

  "And you knew about the mutants?” Andrea still had a hard time believing in mutants. If Mitch hadn't told her about Monkey, she would have been tempted to disbelieve Professor Toutbon.

  "Of course I knew about the mutants.” Sonia Andrews sighed. “The Net found out about their capabilities and used them. What's wrong with that?"

  "How do you explain the two deaths?"

  "Coincidence. Unfortunate accidents. A cardiovascular attack killed the first man, and apparently, the second tour guide died of a nervous disorder linked to an embolism in the brain.” Ms. Andrews smiled. “Just worry about getting ready for tomorrow. We need good publicity right now."

  Andrea licked her lips. “All right. But before we do anything I want to have it in writing."

  "Have what in writing?"

  "That I am in no way responsible for the Virtual Tours anymore. That I am in no way to be held responsible for any kind of accident that may befall the president. I want the paper signed and on my desk by five o'clock, and I want the check the Net promised me. A cashier's check made out in my name, for the total amount the Net promised me if I decided to abdicate my position as president. My forty-eight percent is worth thirteen billion dollars. Subtract what I owe the Net and pay me the rest. It's all yours. I want nothing to do with it anymore.” Her face was deathly pale, but her eyes glittered with determination.

  "You're quitting?” Sonia Andrews looked stunned.

  "Yes,” Andrea replied. She stood up and walked to the door, her shoes crunching on the bits of smashed stone. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do before tonight."

  After the Net Rep left, Andrea went to the broom closet in the hallway and got a sweeper. She didn't want Cocotte to cut her paws on the sharp pieces of serpentine. Then she pressed a button on her console.

  "Sally, would you please tell Digby to come to my office? And get Mitch. You'd better bring maté for everyone, too. On second thought, make that whiskey. Yes, whiskey! I want everyone to hear this."

  She put her face in her hands. She wanted Tony to be here so she could confide in him. She realized that she'd always confided in him. Ever since he'd become her chauffeur, she'd talked to him about her worries, her triumphs and even her problems with the Net. He'd always listened and always managed to say the right thing to her. She rubbed her face and looked out the window. A whiskey was just what she needed. And then a long talk with Tony.

  * * * *

  After Mitch, Sally and Digby left and the express courier brought her papers and check from the Net, Andrea stared at the telephone and willed it to ring. Tony. Please call me, Tony. Her lips moved as she whispered his name. It was six p.m. and he was two seconds late.

  The phone rang and she jumped, then her hand shot out. “Andrea Girt."

  "It's me,” he said simply.

 
; Her heart did a sort of jig in her chest and she knew she was grinning idiotically. “Will you come and pick me up tonight?"

  "Of course.” He paused. “I want to ask you something important."

  "I'm listening."

  "Not over the phone. I'll see you in a few minutes."

  Andrea replaced the receiver as if it were made of glass. She looked under her desk at Cocotte, curled up and sleeping in her little bed. “I have the check, and I have the signatures on the letter. Now we're going to go out and celebrate. I will be free in exactly three days, as soon as President Megalot wakes up after his trip. Then you and I will walk out of this office and we will never come back."

  The dog twitched her ears and raised her head, yawning widely.

  "Come on, let's go hear what Tony wants to tell me.” Andrea snapped the leash on her dog's collar.

  * * * *

  Digby saw Sally bite her nails as she stared at Mitch. She wouldn't go home, begging him to let her stay until the trip was over. Still subdued after Andrea's meeting, Digby had relented. Now he was sitting by his console, his fingers trailing lightly over the buttons, his eyes unfocused as he thought about the implications of Mitch's news.

  Mitch had told them all about his trip to Dallas. The part about the mutant had fascinated Digby. He desperately wanted to meet him and learn his secrets, even if he didn't like the part about the mutants’ role in creating the virtual worlds. He'd thought that he had done most of the work himself, except for the necessary time-lapse factor, which had stumped him and all the programmers under him. Then the Net had hired a group of scientists—the mutants.

  Self-doubt was trickling into his brain, numbing his fingers and causing his teeth to seek his lower lip and gnaw restlessly. How was it possible? How could it be true? Mutants were just a rumor. Mitch must be mistaken. A mutant. A real mutant, a cyborg! A man so intimately linked to the machine he could cast his mind into it and delve into its deepest secrets. A mutant!

  Digby shook his head a bit and sighed. His eyes focused on the console and automatically checked the status of his voyagers. Thanks to the new virus-catching program the Net had devised, he could trace the voyagers’ movements much more closely. Mitch was in his own room, and the president was in the bar, drinking a piña colada. Fine. Now Digby could follow their movements with some precision. Not perfectly, of course, but closely enough to feel secure. Two Net Representatives were with him now in the console room. They were trained technicians, and already they had spent more time than he had watching their president.

  They were part of the new group that would move in after this trip was done. Everything was finished here, for him. He had handed in his resignation, along with Mitch and Sally. Andrea had made things very clear. The Net was taking over, and there would be no room for the upper level employees in the new incarnation of company.

  With his knowledge of the system, Digby could probably have stayed, but he thought better of it. Mitch's description of their attitude towards the mutant and the way the Net employees had kept them both prisoners made him suspect the Net offices would not be a good place for him to work.

  Sally had made the same decision, but hers was because of Mitch. She went where he went. The little diamond on her finger sparkled as she wrung her hands together. Her face was drawn and her eyes had huge circles beneath them. She'd pleaded with Mitch not to go on the tour, but he had simply kissed her and lay down on the sending couch. Now she paced up and down in front of the plate-glass window or came into the room to stand next to her lover. Digby couldn't order her to leave, not with her distress so palpable. Instead, he motioned to the Net men sitting at their table in the far corner.

  "Will you fellows take over for a while? I need to get something to eat."

  He took Sally by the shoulder and led her outside. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  "It's time for dinner."

  They saw Andrea getting into her limousine. That didn't surprise them. They were amazed, though, when she leaned through the window and gave the chauffeur a long, lingering kiss on the mouth.

  * * * *

  Mitch stared at the moray eel, his eyes widening in shock. The amazement he felt was not because he was scuba diving with the president of the Net. It was because the eel had just whispered into his ear.

  Wilbur Megalot floated in the crystal-clear water, his eyes magnified behind the scuba mask. His expression was beatific. He motioned to Mitch, pointing to a leopard ray moving lazily through the water. He had been pointing at everything; he was one of those people who couldn't admire something without having everyone else admire it too. Mitch nodded vaguely and gave him a thumb's up. A school of angelfish hovered over the staghorn coral. A parrotfish swam by, its green and blue scales looking like fine turquoise mosaic. One of the president's bodyguards floated near the surface of the water. Mitch wasn't watching any of this. His eyes were fixed on the moray eel.

  "It's me, Monkey. Don't tell anyone I'm here. Don't worry. I'm going to protect you."

  Wilbur Megalot, president of the worldwide Net and the richest man in the world, motioned to Mitch and swam towards the surface. In the virtual world, you didn't have to worry about decompressing. Actually, you didn't need to wear the scuba gear at all, and you could swim underwater all you wanted. However, Mitch never told his clients this, and no one ever asked. Sometimes, when he was alone, Mitch would dive without gear. It was like dreaming.

  He splashed out of the water, climbing up the ladder onto the rocking boat. He took the president's scuba tank from him and handed it to a figment standing nearby. Another fig helped the bodyguard onto the boat. The figs, known as Diver-1 and Diver-2, could handle scuba gear and drive the motorboat to well-known diving locations. There were underwater wrecks and portions of the reef entirely reconstructed from real landscapes. Diver-1 knew every location and could find them with no help from the map taped to the navigation console.

  "Ah, this is the life.” The president sighed as he sat on a comfortable chair on deck and took the cold beer Diver-1 handed him. He popped the top and slurped the foam noisily. The sun made him squint, so he asked for a pair of sunglasses. Diver-1 pulled a pair out of his pocket. Mitch knew that the pocket was simply a virtual pathway. The president could have asked for a Thanksgiving turkey, and after processing the order, Diver-1 would have pulled it right out of his pocket. Some orders were easier to process than others; sunglasses and sunscreen were available right away. A funny order to process was a fishing pole. The figment would pull it out of his pocket with a perfectly straight face, never realizing the incongruous sight it made.

  Mitch dried himself off with a fluffy towel then pulled on his T-shirt. It was the official guide's shirt with Virtual Tours written across his chest.

  "Do you need anything else, sir?” he asked the president.

  "No thanks, son, this has been a wonderful trip. Since I've been here, I've done nothing but relax."

  "That's why you're here, sir.” Mitch nodded to the figment to start the boat.

  "That and to check out my newest acquisition."

  Mitch nodded. Andrea had been very clear that night. As they sipped their whiskey, she'd explained that the Net had just bought Virtual Tours and that she was relinquishing her shares. The president's voice interrupted his thoughts.

  "What are we doing tonight?"

  "There's a limbo dancer on the patio, and we're having a steel-drum band come especially from Tobago to play for you. Dinner is stuffed grouper, our chef's specialty, and we have lime ice for desert. I promise you'll love it."

  "I'm sure I will.” The president grinned at Mitch, showing his famous dimples. His silver hair was also the same, but aside from the dimples and hair, it was doubtful his wife would have recognized him. He'd chosen his younger self for the trip, jokingly saying that he'd always wanted to be rejuvenated. “What a great trip. I was crazy not to have tried it sooner. I'll have to come back every month and bring the wife. What do you say, Boris? Are you up for a
monthly appointment in paradise?"

  The bodyguard nodded, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Mitch smiled weakly and rubbed his forehead. The boat chugged across the water, and he could see the docks in the distance. He wanted to be alone in his room because he figured Monkey could talk to him then. He had a couple questions to ask.

  * * * *

  My name is Madeline, the littlest girl in line. I am an orpheline, which is French for orphan. Am I truly an orphan? I tried for years to find a mother but never discovered who she had been. The father was easier. Chips and sparkles, dazzles of silver metal and a frosting of diamond-bright electrodes, slender wires in every rainbow color, and voila, the father. Le père.

  I like France. The Louvre is a wonderful place to visit, and I wander through its echoing corridors long after everyone else has gone. My world is like the museum, with beautiful Greek statues staring at me, their eyes empty, and paintings of heroes hanging on gilded walls. My world is enclosed, with a doorway leading out of it into the real world. Don't ask me how I escaped; I only know that one day I discovered a pathway that led me to paradise.

  I was a prisoner in the program. I longed to be free. I created my own world, and I used it to escape the glass case where I grew up. Then one day I found a gateway leading to the real world. The real world! I stood in the sun, I felt sweat trickling down my chest, between my heavy breasts, and I sighed deeply. My hand crept to my throat, slid down, over my collarbones, over skin made slick with sweat, and I felt myself for the first time. I felt my body, I felt it breathe and move, and I felt desire. I looked upon another human being and he saw me for what I was. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and his mouth became soft.

  I pressed myself to him, needing to feel him holding me. But there was more, so much more that I needed. My whole body was awash in a sensual rush of delight.

  Now my head spins when I think about it. I wish that I could live forever in the real world, giving in to my body's every desire. But the path is only open for brief amounts of time. I slip in and out, in and out, in and out ... my breath is coming faster and faster, my heart speeds up and sweat trickles down my chest. Or is it my light fingertips? I will return to the real world. Love is the most important thing in the universe, and I will worship it until I die.