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BOOK: Norton, Andre - Anthology
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"Oh-ho!" Lenny exclaimed. "The
little surgeon has a new Mousetrap, perhaps? What have you got in mind? I'll
tell you whether it'll work or not."

 
          
 
"I really appreciate that, Lenny."
she said, biting back unkind personal comments, "but I couldn't take you
away from your important work just to indulge my little idea. Admin would never
forgive me for monopolizing your time. Just schedule a few hours for me in a
secure lab. and I'll be out of your way." Mary had learned the
old-fashioned art of the well-placed simper. She had to use her claws
carefully. And only when necessary.

 
          
 
Escaping Lenny's curiosity, Mary went up to
Supply to select among the old VR headsets used for diagnosing infants and
premature births. Some had even been built into the sort of box
Beverly
had. "Oh, heavens, not cow aquariums
again." Mary grabbed the technical specs for the headsets, read them, and
gave a predatory grin. 'This is going to be interesting. Now, just one more
ingredient."

 
          
 
In better spirits, Mary called her sister and
said she'd like to have Dickens for lunch. "No, seriously. I have a
cunning plan. Why don't you and Dickens come by? I do have to thank you both
for being patient with me last night. You've always wanted to see the labs, and
there's nothing high-security going on right now. Oh, do. You know how Dickens
loves trips ending in small, crunchy morsels. I'll have something made up
special for him."

 

 
          
 
The lunch turned out better than expected, and
Dickens, a seasoned traveler in Beverly's big mesh purse, was in good temper,
although Mary did not kid herself—the crab puffs she'd ordered were the reason
for the cat's tolerance. After accepting delighted attention from her staff,
Dickens was quite willing to be escorted on the tour of the lab complex where
he could be admired by all.

 
          
 
When they reached the lab levels. Mary
ever-so-innocently wandered over to the secured lab that Lenny had set up for
her. Palming the optipad, she told
Beverly
, "Go ahead and stick your hand on the
pad. I'm on file, but they want a scan of everyone who goes in. Come to think
of it," she smiled disingenuously, "let's put Dickens' paw on ft,
40oi I-can't wait to see the memo from security."

 
          
 
Mary, Beverly, and Dickens (although it took
twice) were all accepted by security. They entered the stark and antiseptic
environment of a medical VR lab.
Beverly
squinted in the glare. "Good Lord!
This is dreary! Do you have to work in this all day long?"

 
          
 
"Heavens, no!" Mary laughed. "I
work out of my office, or one of the VROOMS upstairs. Down here there's no
reason to dress up the place. Once you're up on the Nets, you create your own
environment. Oh, here, it looks like they've left a helmet or two . . !”
Beverly
gave her a look that made her go on
persuasively, "I know you're hooked into Moneycomm. but have you ever been
on the main Nets? I mean, since you're here . .

 
          
 
Beverly
was many things. Stupid wasn't one of them.
"You mean, since there just happen to be two big helmets and one little
one in that rat's nest of wires left lying around?"
Beverly
gave her another look, “I thought I was
finished playing guinea pig after your first year of med school. You know I've
never forgiven you for leaving me in a full body splint while you ran to the
store "to pick up a few things.' "

 
          
 
"I was back that afternoon, you said you
needed a rest—and come to think of it. your posture improved noticeably—really
showed off your—"
Beverly
's swatting hand interrupted her. Mary grinned as she untangled cables.

 
          
 
Beverly
submitted with good grace. Despite what
she'd said, she was curious. She was familiar with the commercial Nets, but
she'd never had an opportunity to see what VR was really like up on the mains.
Not many people ever did. In a few moments Mary had her hooked into the system.
Mary put on a helmet and structured their surroundings to a comforting and
familiar image.
Beverly
's own drawing room.

 
          
 
While
Beverly
worked to create a tangible body within the
sketchy room. Mary focused on improving her sister's imagery. Only a surgeon
could have done it so deftly. Any blunt attempts to attune would have felt like
assault, but Mary's experience and skill made it possible for her to merge into
Beverly
's input without peeling the layers of her
thought process.
Beverly
practiced moving, walking, picking up objects, as delighted as if she'd
never done so in the actual room. An equilibrium was reached. There was no need
for conversation now. Even' thought translated at a nearly subliminal level,
like an internal conversation. **There's a ceramic jug out of place** from
Beverly
. A mere thought from Mary altered the
placement. **Showing off!**
Beverly
laughed.

 
          
 
**Like it?** Mary asked. "You can add
lots more stuff.**

 
          
 
**Is this what it's like on the mains? I can't
believe the difference** from
Beverly
,

 
          
 
Time compressed in VR. The sisters simulcast a
dialogue understandable only to themselves. Mary had never really heard half
the ideas
Beverly
thought out in clarifying the objects in
the room. To Mary they had always been odd lumps of glass or wood or fabric.
For
Beverly
, each lived in a web of stories and
memories. She could not describe them without bringing them out from the
parlor's shadows, putting them in the best light, and telling their histories.
It made the room unusually solid for a VR environment. Such highly detailed
observations were exactly what Mary had hoped for from her sister.

 
          
 
Mary's experience allowed her to view the VR
image and also to be aware of her realtime environment. Dickens was relaxed in
his bag. All was in place; just one more link, and she'd see if
Beverly
's Scotch-fueled opinion of her cat's
abilities was deserved.

 
          
 
Even as she sent a casual message to her
sister, **Let's let the cat out of the bag!** she reached for the third helmet.
She opened the big mesh purse on
Beverly
's lap and slipped the helmet onto Dickens'
cranium. **Dickens' turn to join the link!**

 
          
 
She vocalized the command.

 
          
 
PROGRAM FELINE-1 EXECUTED

 
          
 
Both sisters reeled from the discontinuity.
Disorienting. Like staring through a fish-eye lens at a sculpture while running
around it, spinning. And hearing a symphony from a radio, from a recording
studio, and live from within a tuba", alf at ejice. And touching the very
air in and around their lungs, being able to press their fingers to each breath
inside their throats. Virtual space became at once transparent and solid.

 
          
 
Mary supported
Beverly
's grip on the wavering outlines of their
shared VR parlor. Then Mary extended her faculties into the new reality forming
under the weight of a third presence. Taking threads that she recognized, she
began to map them onto the reality she and Beverly shared. Floor, wall table
leg —she sensed the alien presence working just as hard. The room was acquiring
more fine adjustments everywhere she looked. Threads crawled across her reality
and anchored themselves. Chairs acquired underside springs and torn stuffing
and vivid dusty scents and lost loose change. The reality had been unusually
detailed before; now it had more depth and texture and vitality than Mary had
ever seen.

 
          
 
**Even the tear on the underside of the
ottoman! How on earth did you notice that?**

 
          
 
**I hadn't** from Mary, **but Dickens
obviously did!**

 
          
 
Beverly
was entranced, seeing her parlor from a
cat's eye view, and she commented on the detail.

 
          
 
Mary fired back, **Enjoy it while you can,
it's unusual. It must be making a huge demand on the system. This kind of
detail really chews up computing power.**

 
          
 
A flat black-and-white image of Lenny
shuddered on the periphery of Mary's vision. His voice barked from the speakers
in the VROOM's ceiling panel. "Mary! What are you running down there? Our
monitors on your lab just went to gray-tone in three dimensions! What the hell
is going on. Mare?"

 
          
 
"Shut up, Lenny. I'm cleared for this
VROOM, and you told me it was sealed." Mary spoke without inflection,
trying to maintain her concentration on the forming link between herself, her
sister, and Dickens. "Go monitor a colostomy!"

 
          
 
"You girls don't know what you're playing
at! Go on like that and you'll be yelling for me to rescue you."

 
          
 
In response, Mary formed big, black, very
false six-foot VR eyelashes and batted them. The sisters harmonized in falsetto
tones, trilling, "Oh, thank you, Testosterone Man!"
Beverly
laughed, and the threefold link became
stronger.

 
          
 
Lenny was not amused. "You just wait,
you'll get in trouble and I'll be off saving somebody else's project!"

 
          
 
A new imagery began to manifest in response to
Lenny's presence in the VR nexus: heat . . . stalking . . . prey . . . hot
blood . . muscle, sinew, claws unsheathing, tearing . . . and teeth closing . .
.

 
          
 
Lenny dropped out of the nexus with a yelp.

 
          
 
**I don't blame him**
Beverly
noted with amusement. **If every woman had
this opportunity, a swine like that would stick to sniffing truffles!** A large
tabby cat image formed, curled its tail around its front paws, and purred in
response to her praise.

 
          
 
With the outside interference gone,
Beverly
's parlor ramified and gained even more
definition. Objects Mary had never even noticed snapped into complete focus,
their shapes, textures, and positions sharply correct. The trap had become more
than complex enough to generate a Mouse. It didn't take long. A squealing blur
darted across
Beverly
's pristine drawing room and halted at the baseboard, shimmering.

 
          
 
**There's the problem!** Mary indicated,
transforming the image of her hand into a ridiculous ten-foot poster-paint red
arrow.

 
          
 
Attention drawn by his social pack, Dickens
took only sidelong, indolent notice of the Mouse. But his eyes became slits.

           
 
**Look!**
Beverly
flashed.

BOOK: Norton, Andre - Anthology
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