City of Cinders
Page 10
Kaylie savored the taste of her small victory, grinning. “I thought I had finally cured you of that habit.”
Sometimes I wonder. “What color do you want?”
“Blue for me. Mother wants dark purple, and Cade would like you to design a suit for him that compliments both.”
Cindira’s eyes went wide. “Three new projects by tomorrow afternoon?”
“By tomorrow morning,” Kaylie amended. “We’ll need a chance to try them on and make any adjustments before we leave for the ball.”
It might as well be three hundred. “I’m good, Kaylie, but I’m not that good. You...I couldn’t possibly make three new projects from scratch in twenty-four hours.”
And have any hope of fixing up an avatar for myself.
“Do, or don’t. Your choice. But an employee who can’t meet deadlines might not have a job if she fails to meet them.”
Cindira leaned back. “This isn’t part of my job.”
“Isn’t it?” Kaylie sneered. “Are you not the lead code writer on the customization division? Are you not receiving a direct order from your supervisor?”
“But, Kaylie, I—”
“Enough!” The blonde clapped her hands in Cindira’s face, cutting off her words. “Mother, Cade, and I will meet you tomorrow in the Sink to inspect your work. Now, get busy.”
Cindira collapsed back into her chair in the wake of Kaylie’s departure, her forehead falling against fingertips pressed into her temples. Never mind the fact the she herself was going to miss the ball, the perfect opportunity to get close to the prince without any of his usual security detail and figure out what was really going on inside of GAIA. Now, on top of that, she’d be working overnight just to get the clothing programmed.
She stirred when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Cindira turned her head up to find that one of her junior coders, a mousy woman whose name she couldn’t recall, staring down at her with a tender smile. Behind her, the dozen other coders on duty flanked her.
“Don’t worry, Miss Tieg,” the soft voice cooed. “We’ll help you.”
17
Kaylie strode into view, her gown so diaphanous, its voluminous ivory skirting made her appear to walk through rolling mist. Such had been the intention of the design, and to Cindira’s delight, her vision had been realized.
Just because she didn’t want the work didn’t mean she couldn’t take pride in it.
Her stepsister extended an arm, examining the complex silver stitchery on her sleeve. “You’re certain this wasn’t just pulled out of some old file? Seems very detailed for something thrown together in a day.”
Cindira labored to suppress her ire as she pushed the button on the control panel that let her voice be heard in Kaylie’s vreal world bedroom. “Every single thread is newly programmed. I’ve cross-referenced against all the other gowns that have been uploaded to client libraries in the last three days since the ball was announced. This dress is by far the most elegant and the most complex.”
“And the color?” Kaylie looked up as though looking in a mirror. “I’ve never worn white in The Kingdom before. Does it suit me?”
Nearby, Mackey fixed a hungry gaze on the boss lady. “I’ll say.”
“Shhh!” Cindira pressed a finger to a smile she couldn’t hide. As soon as the others quieted their own giggles, she opened the channel again. “It’s not white precisely.” It would be misadvertising if I put you in something suggesting you were pure. “It has a tinge of blue in it, enough to shade it. The Kingdom’s lighting algorithms don’t treat pure white well. It confuses it for translucent, and I’ve even heard reports that sometimes it looks like the user’s clothing disappears.”
A wily, cocky half-grin pulled up a corner of Kaylie’s mouth. “That doesn’t sound like an entirely unwelcome glitch, but not right for tonight.”
Time for the upsell. The last thing Cindira wanted to admit to was that she and the other coders had decided a mostly monochromatic palette would make their jobs easier. Color created complexity. “I modeled your dress after old videos of the marine layer. You will roll into the room, blanketing out everything else so that the only thing anyone sees when they turn in any direction is your presence.”
“And I’ll leave them feeling wet.”
Cindira bit her tongue on that.
“So...?” She drew out the word and her hopes, waiting for judgement.
Kaylie huffed and let her arms fall to the side. “It will have to do, I suppose.”
Cindira’s hope for even the slightest bit of appreciation evaporated.
Kaylie appeared to be looking right at them, even though it was impossible for her to see the Kitchens from inside The Kingdom. “You’re going to turn off this mirror contraption when I leave, right? I don’t want any of you spying into my bedroom later. I may not be alone.”
In her own bedroom? Whenever Kaylie had undertaken one of her virtual hookups before, it was outside of Alsace. Not that the two women shared intimate details of their love lives, or if they had, that Cindira would have had anything to share. The men in whom Kaylie took interest were wealthy enough to have their own mansions, and going to their place was easier and safer than having Cindira upgrade the security setting on the profile of her beau du jour. Not to mention, she shared the space with her mother and brother. Even inside virtual reality, how creepy would that be? That Kaylie planned to have a guest without such concerns meant only one thing.
“You’ve already given the prince security clearance for Alsace?” Cindira asked.
“Of course, I did,” Kaylie snipped back. “He doesn’t have a residence in The Kingdom for us to go to, does he? The only place for me to have him would be for him to come here.”
Kaylie Fife rarely let an entendre go undoubled.
Cindira pushed the mic button again. “Aren’t you scared you’ll be interrupted?”
The fact that Kaylie didn’t answer told Cindira all she needed to know. This wasn’t just another virtual conquest for Kaylie. This plan had larger implications, ones that, no doubt, Johanna was part of.
But those all depended on the prince buying in, and that he’d be into someone like Kaylie. The flirtation his Highness had shown during his visit as Detective Batista fled the moment he understood Kaylie couldn’t give him what he was after. Who was to say that hasn’t changed though?
In the back of her mind, Cindira wondered what the prince would make of a quiet, brainy girl instead.
“We’ll shut down the window right after you leave. I’m the only one from the Kitchens who has clearance to enter Alsace, and I won’t be here much longer.”
A smile teased Cindira’s voice.
“Cade and my mother say they find their outfits acceptable, so I suppose we’re done here. Close the window.” Kaylie grabbed a matching handbag off the table next to her. “I’m off to the ball.”
No sooner had Kaylie stepped out of view and presumably, left the room, then Cindira whipped around to her team. They deserved her praise. They deserved her thanks. They deserved her appreciation and recognition. The deserved a bottle of wine and the rest of the night off.
All things she’d have to give them later.
“I really hate to do this, but I have to go.”
18
“I still don’t have an avatar.” Cindira slung her backpack over her shoulder as she shot out of the Kitchens. “Not sure how I’m pulling this off without that.”
Laporte emerged from his hiding spot, a zippered pocket on the front of the bag, and crawled up to perch upon Cindira’s shoulder. “You do have an avatar.”
“No, it was destroyed in an explosion, remember?” Though even if it hadn’t, wouldn’t it freak out Batista to see me approaching him? “I’d barely gotten the wireframes on the replacement drawn yesterday when Kaylie came in about her stupid dress.”
“It was a beautiful dress, though, Madame.”
“You have to stop calling me ‘Madame,’ Laporte. It’s Cindira.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Well, at least it didn’t make her feel like a brothel owner.
The mouse continued. “When she diverted you from your task, I was forced to find a solution.”
Cindira stopped dead in her tracks. “What? How?”
“I took the liberty of preparing a render very similar to your real-world representation.” He kept silent for a moment, except that so close to her ear, Cindira swore there was some sort of high-pitched tone coming from inside him. “Your family has left Alsace. It is now safe for you to use it is a port entry undetected.”
“I wish there was a better place to get in.”
“As you yourself had said, it is the only port of entry in the area which won’t trigger an arrival record. Ideally, you’d enter through the magic pumpkin, but as I’ve noted, its entrance point to The Kingdom is very far from the Palace.”
“Couldn’t you just edit the entry logs?” She reached the room she’d been heading for, the only one she could think of where no one would come in to find her. Not even the custodian had access to Kaylie’s new office. Cleaning staff were only allowed in with the division head present. Cindira had been granted access by Kaylie herself, “just in case I ever need you to do something for me when I’m not here.”
“I have access to the source code, Miss, but all the structure that Tybor has built into The Kingdom since its inception is beyond my influence. I can only read the files, not overwrite them.”
After fifteen years, Cindira had discovered the first flaw in her mother’s work. She ducked into the office, locking the door behind her before throwing her bag on Kaylie’s desk. Inside, the glass slippers clinked, despite having been wrapped in kitchen towels.
“I swear, I’m going to break these things.”
“Highly unlikely, miss. Your mother used metallic glass. It’s nearly indestructible.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of.” She set the slippers on the floor, aligned them with her feet, before slipping her shoes and socks off and stuffing them in the bag. “You said it’s best if I lay down until I get used to using them, just in case. I guess I can do that here on the floor, but are you sure this isn’t going to, like, fry my brain?”
“No, it will not ‘fry your brain.’” The mouse’s tone managed to be mocking despite his inability to have true emotions. “Once you put them on, they will need about thirty seconds to boot up and acclimate to your neural signals.”
“They read my brain waves through the soles of my feet? Is it safe? Is it painful?”
“Miss Tieg, now is not the time. I assure you, it’s safe. I will send the command for the devices to jack you into The Kingdom when you’re ready.”
Cindira fixed the slippers in her gaze, then looked at her bare feet, then the slippers again. Either she was going to do this, or she wasn’t.
She drew in a breath, closed her eyes, and lifted her right foot.
And then came the knock on the door.
Three quick taps sent her pulse spiraling as Laporte turned towards the entry.
“I think that would be Miss MacAvoy.”
“Oh my god, the invitation!” Cindira ignored the shoes and rushed to the other side of the room. “I almost forgot.”
Laporte had scrambled out of view by the time Cindira had collected herself enough to open the door. When she did, it was only to crack it wide enough to press her face into view.
“Scotia, thank you for coming.”
The redhead narrowed her gaze, suspicion taking hold of her features. “What’s going on? Why am I meeting you at Kaylie’s office, and why aren’t you opening the door?” She curled up on her tippy toes, trying to see over her friend’s head. “What are you hiding in there?”
“Why would you think I’m trying to hide something?”
“Because you won’t let me see inside?” The redhead fell back to her heels and cocked a hip. “What’s up with you? You show up at my house in the middle of the night after saying you’d blown up the prince of GAIA, then disappear the morning after without so much as a goodbye. Then, I don’t hear from you until this morning when you send a message begging to use my invitation to the Ball.”
As a prominent researcher in the community, Scotia was often pulled into appearing at larger events – even if just for political reasons.
“You’re right. I am sorry I took off like that, and I should have reached out earlier to thank you. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. And I swear, I’m not trying to keep something from you, but for the moment, I have to. It has... had something to do with my mom.”
All true, and all things she didn’t have time to go into further at the moment.
“Do you have it?”
Scotia raised her comque and clicked a few screens. Soon enough, the projection of a rectangular invite inscribed in archaic artist script hovered a few inches above her wrist. “You do realize all the credentials went out yesterday, and if you didn’t RSVP by this morning, the invitation was revoked.”
“I can alter the coding to change that. It just has to scan as valid when I enter the Palace.”
“It won’t do any good,” Scotia argued. “If the credential doesn’t match your profile when midnight hits, you’re still going to be kicked out.”
“That’s more than enough time.”
Scotia grimaced. “To do what?”
Cindira bit her bottom lip, a series of consequences spinning in her mind. None of the possible results seemed worse than lying to her best friend. “It’s the only way I can think of to talk to the prince.”
“The prince?” Scotia repeated. “Why would you need to talk to him? Is it about what happened when you were inside GAIA? Hey, didn’t you say your avatar was destroyed? Did you make... Where are you going?”
Cindira looked past her guilt to remember the truth: she was stepping into risky territory, and any knowledge she gave her best friend would only place her in danger.
“I’m sorry, Scotia, I really am. But I can’t tell you anymore. Thank you for giving me your invitation. Thank you for everything, but I really have to go.”
With the door locked and without any further delay, Cindira stepped into the glass slippers. If she had been expecting anything miraculous to happen from that fact alone, she was severely disappointed. The only novel exception was that she now knew from experience that shoes made of metallic glass were as comfortable as they sounded. Namely, not.
She laid back on the floor. “Now what?”
Laporte laid down by her right hand. “Just close your eyes and dream.”
19
The sunset consumed the horizon, painted it in extravagant reds bursting with orange hues. Brilliant, blinding colors danced across her eyelids, burning her retinas with the most delicious tease. Cindira blinked, sitting up, taking her first look at a world her mother had unwittingly created. The light broke in from a square-paned window, and even as she sat up, the angle of the sunbeam pitched as the sun set outside. She was in Alsace, her step-mother’s home inside The Kingdom. In the front parlor, from what she could tell. The plush fabric of the Persian rug beneath her felt so real as she pushed herself up to a seated position. The full-immersion experience proved much richer than just tinkering in The Sink.
Only then did she become aware of the stiff, itchy fabric scratching her legs.
“What am I wearing?”
The unflattering skirt looked more like an oversized towel she’d wrapped around and tucked at the waist. It came down to her ankles; a starched, white pinafore stretched nearly as far. The billowing blouse appeared to be made of gingerbread-colored gingham. On her head, white linen that came together in under her chin and melded seamlessly into a long collar that covered her chest, shoulders, and upper back. A veil? A nun’s habit? She couldn’t remember anyone saying the prince’s ball would be a masquerade.
Cindira inspected herself with concern. “This isn’t a ballgown.”
Something had happened to her voice. It held a bit of an accent,
perhaps? Which, she couldn’t quite place, but something about it proved familiar, comforting. Part of the fantasy, she thought. Whatever made the world more enticing, thus, more addicting, Tybor labored to achieve.
Laporte sounded like he was right next to her, though she couldn’t see him anywhere.
“Your task is better achieved by avoiding notice rather than drawing it. I know we had discussed choosing a random dress from those in The Kingdom libraries left unused tonight, but I thought I might first present my argument for donning a servant’s garb instead.”
“If the point is to avoid attention, then I should be in a gown. I’m going to stand out dressed like this.”
She stood, and immediately stopped in place. It wasn’t that the costume was uncomfortable, even if a little over done with the weight of the cloth. But the shoes? No servant would ever wear something so impractical.
Cindira pulled up the skirt and found what she feared. “I’m still wearing the glass slippers?”
“It is one design flaw, Miss. Your mother was brilliant, but even she made mistakes. While one is jacked into the vreal world wearing the slippers, they will also render on the avatar once logged in. I apologize there is nothing to be done for it. I think your mother may have intended it to be some sort of indication of authority. If so, she never shared it with me.”
The code writer took a few steps to test their feel. “They’re not as awkward here as they are in the real world. And they don’t make any noise?”
“You can also change the shape while you’re here. If you’ll notice, I’ve had the shoes rendered as flats, which match the wardrobe.”
Annoying, but workable. Cindira adjusted the pinafore. It hadn’t been an impromptu job; even if the clothing appeared mundane, as a virtual object, the rendering was to be admired. She couldn’t detect any pixilation, and the contours of her form had been well and realistically rendered. As she looked down at herself, she slid her hand over the rise of her hip bone. Exceptionally well rendered, she thought.