The warehouse district of the "Old City" part of North Bend was a freerunner's playground, so long as you knew where to look. And Tracy knew where to look: while the streets might be dangerous, nobody used the tops of the buildings for shady dealings - not in view of satellites and telescopes from the Arcadia Tower. There was always the risk of a police patrol, of course, but Tracy wasn't too worried about those.

She ran across the warehouse rooftops, using their forests of vents, air conditioners and other obstructions to vault, climb and hurdle over. Her bicycle shorts and sports bra were dull gray, to match the rooftop surfaces, and her auburn hair matched the rust as well. Light tan skin wasn't that noticeable from a distance, usually, either. Not that she really cared - for the moment, it was just her and her running shoes pitted against the urban landscape.

Most of the old warehouses where close enough together that she could vault the 8 to 10 foot gaps, but sometimes she needed something narrower. She could see her destination from here, standing out because of its privacy-fenced rooftop, and there was narrow enough alley at the end of the roof she was on now. She deliberately jumped short, her gloved hands and padded knees hitting the far wall. Elbows and knees folded, then sprung back - speed was critical in order to make use of the momentary friction. Push off hard, spin, hit the opposite wall. Repeat as needed, until you made it to the ground.

Once on the alley floor, Tracy stopped moving. Her legs, arms, back and lungs were all burning, the sweatband keeping her hair out of her gray eyes was saturated, and the narrow, hard plastic backpack needed adjusting. From her jogging belt she unclipped one of two canteens, filled with her favorite sports drink (Go Go GatorJuice! Now in Melon Flavor!) and drained half of it. From another pouch came a sponge-cloth packet, which she tore open with her teeth. The absorbent cloth soaked up the sweat from her face, neck, arms, belly and legs. The sweatband had to be wrung out by hand, and stuffed into a different pouch. Her panting having returned to normal breath, she checked the street for traffic and then walked across to the doors of Reality Check while adrenalin and endorphins kept her courage up. Hopefully the person she was looking for would be in, and willing to see her.

Reality Check
A dilapidated warehouse in what was once the thriving technological office district of North Bend before Mr. Arcadia eclipsed it with his vision of a futuristic arcology. The parking lot is empty save for several abandoned cars which are lacking their tires, engines, and batteries - probably taken by scavengers intruding from the Dregs, which are not that far away.
The warehouse looks freshly painted with a cheery "Reality Check" signboard next to the front door. Privacy screens line the roof, providing a barrier to sight and sound - from an angle lower than 30 degrees to the ground, at least. Stairs lead up along the right side as one faces the door, to a locked gate accessing the garden on the roof.

Pressing the button on the intercom, Tracy leans forward and says, "Hello? I'm Tracy Trudeau, looking for Jason Edwards."

Sitting back in the shadows of a dimly lit room, the building's owner has been watching this mysterious intruder for a few minutes now. "Thieves usually moved quieter and less in the open," he mutters to himself as he flicks from camera to camera for different view angles. When the intercom crackles and parrots the identity of the 'trespasser' he sits forward, bringing himself into the reach of the light from his multiple screens. Monitor light is not particularly kind to anyone, much less a thinly build and somewhat scraggly-looking man who must be in his early thirties, or being generous, very late twenties ... and sees less than adequate sleep. He flicks a switch on his desk then leans his chin into his palm, looking bored. "Trudeau. Relation to Holly Trudeau, I presume. Creator of the now legendary 'goth girl' of the avatar's world, mm?" he asks, sounding either tired or bored. It's hard to tell with the tinny speaker.

It's summer and the sun illuminates Tracy mercilessly. The other warehouses that she can see nearby are abandoned, in some cases windows broken in as if by a brick. There are no scavengers to be seen now, but it's a safe guess that if there were any, they aren't of a mind to tamper with whatever security systems Reality Check has instaled.

Tracy winces at the mention of her former online identity. "Yes, that's me.. we met in the game, remember? I helped you out? I was hoping you could.. help me out with a technical issue," she replies.

Overhead a red skycar zooms by on its way from the Magnolia Tower, its engines a distant drone. The gas station down the road looks lonely and abandoned, ground traffic virtually nonexistent.

"So you came running through the old city, dressed like bait on a hook for scavaging gangs?" Jason replies through the intercom, "I hear phones are a lot safer, if open for people to listen in on." A crackle reminiscent of a sigh follows, then another comment, "But then I can also figure this is something you don't want your mother to know about to take the risk you just did. So now you've left me with a bit of a problem. I call your mother and she'll blame me or claim I put you up to this. I leave you out there and you remain bait and if anything happens, I'll be blamed. Or, I let you in and hope that no one else has identified you and already called your mother."

"I covered my tracks!" Tracy insists into the intercom. "But it sounds like your best option is to let me in, right?" she asks. She knew coming in person would get her the best chance of a meeting!

"There is always the forth option of shooting you with a tranquilizer dart, taking you to a public transit station, and depositing you in a shuttle heading back to the towers," Jason points out. There's a strange pause, followed by a rather odd comment of, "Oh ... don't look at me like that. Fine, fine, fine." The front doors click, then slide open. "Enter and stand still," the voice says.

"Why do I have to stand still?" Tracy asks, but enters as asked. The endorphins are wearing off and she's starting to get nervous.

The answer to that comes quickly enough when Tracy's body is illuminated by literally hundreds of beams of laser light that sweep her from head to toe. There's no warmth, so the power output is obviously low, but the effect is momentarily blinding.

Closing her eyes first, Tracy yells, "Hey.. you didn't say you were gonna scan me! There'd better be a privacy filter on whatever that was!"

The front office looks like a normal corporate office. While there's a receptionist desk and chairs for people to wait in, it's currently unstaffed, and the double doors to the left and right don't have windows to reveal whatever might be behind them. A poster on the far wall reads: 'Reality Check - it's 11 PM, do you know where your data is?'

"Hello?" Tracy calls after the spots in her vision clear up. "Have I been talking to an AI all this time? Where is everybody?"

Naturally the only answer comes in the sound of doors opening to her left, then spotlights illuminating a path that leads into one what looks like a conference room. With the light level, though, it feels more like it leads into a police interrogation room.

"So.. that way," Tracy guesses with a sigh, and follows the path. "If you put my mother through this, she never mentioned it."

Reality Check Conference Room
A long table fills this room, lined by tables, facing a holographic projector setup that lines one wall, backed by display screens. Posters along the wall proclaim "Reality Check - make sure your security's not a fantasy!" and one animated poster loops through a scene where an employee is furtively copying data onto a disk with the motto, "Sometimes your vulnerability isn't hardware or software."
A sofa sits against the back wall, next to a door marked "Restroom". Two double doors on the right lead back to the front office, and an unmarked door at the back presumably leads into the corporate offices proper.

The door closes behind Tracy. The sound it makes is a lot louder than it ought to be. It's probably amplified by a set of hidden speakers somewhere in the room. One of the ceiling spotlights illuminates one of the chairs at the conference table, close to the tri-panel of displays.

Tracy moves cautiously into the room, and makes sure to bend down to check under the tables. "Evil Villain chic, nice," she mutters, and goes to the illuminated chair after unstrapping her backpack. "We have you now, Mr. Bond," she says in a faux-European accent before sitting down.

It's funny that Tracy should mention that because the holo-projector comes to life. A shimmering image of a shadow-shrouded man appears sitting at the head of the table. It also doesn't help the figure is petting something that's sitting in his lap, completing the cliche image of an evil villain in his lair. Something about the size of a large cat, though the lighting doesn't make readily apparent what it is. "Welcome to my humble home," Jason's voice echoes in the room from an array of hidden speakers.

"Nice.. accent lighting," Tracy offers, trying not to look completely creeped out by it all. "So... what was that scan you did?" she asks first, since it's bugging her.

The mysterious creature purrs contentedly, in a higher-pitched tone than a cat would use.

"You're unarmed, you show signs of slight solar radiation damage, commonly called a tan, and your pulse was one-hundred-twelve. You also have elevated levels of lactic acid buildup in your major muscle groups, indicating a fairly strenuous workout in making in here. A five mile run, perhaps? Without assessing your medical history, I really have no profile to compare it against," Jason answers while the projected figure in the shadow seems to shrug.

"First off, this is my natural skin tone," Tracy notes, feeling butterflies in her stomach. "Did it tell you I've got reactive ArmorWeave lining on my clothes, know martial arts, or can touch the back of my head with my toes? And.. it had better not have revealed too much, mister!" she growls.

"Or what? You would use that vibro-blade you're carrying? Hope the civilian-grade armor could project you? You're on my property and I could make it appear like you committed any number of crimes and still be done in time for afternoon tea. Remember, I have to defend against scavagers out here, Miss Trudeau," the figure remarks. The lights in the room increase and the holo projector snaps off. The door in the back opens and a thinly build, and rather tired looking, man walks through the doorway. He's dressed in a heavy scorch-mark adorned faux-leather apron and has dark tinted circular welding glasses pushed up holding back his hair from his face. "And you're obviously Holly's daughter," he remarks as he pulls of thick welder gloves and tosses them on the sofa, "She didn't have much of a sense of humor either. You need to relax or you'll get wrinkles."

"Funny.. she said the same thing about you," Tracy says, and then stands up, grabbing her backpack. She starts to approach the man, and then stops. "Is it alright to come closer?" she asks, just in case.

"That depends," Jason remarks as he unhooks the apron and tosses it to join the gloves, leaving him in a grayish tee-shirt and worn denim jeans. The glasses stay put for now.

"A.. squid?" the girl asks, suddenly looked worried. "You mean like Japanese take-out?"

"No, as in a living squid. Your mother had a hobby of lobbing squids at people," Jason notes as he laughs to himself at presumably an old memory.

Tracy chews on her lip for a bit, trying to decide if the man is only insane.. or insane and knows her mother better than she does. "No," she says firmly. "No live anything in here," she claims as she pats the plastic shell of the backpack. "That's.. kind of why I'm here."

"If you came for me to put something live in your backpack, I'm afraid I can't help you. I tend to deal in the non-living and electronic, Jason notes as he waves at the table before heading over to it. "Since you did go to a lot of effort to come here and I'll be honest, risked your safety, I guess this has to be important. Lets see what you have."

Opening the clamshell of the backpack, Tracy extracts a bundle of black cloth - except that close up it seems to made mostly of tiny hexagonal scales. As she spreads it out on the table it becomes clearer that it's an armored, holographic skin suit. "I.. uh.. recovered this. But it's military, and my home inductor pad won't sync up to charge it. I figured you might have something that could? Or could make something?" she asks hopefully.

"Wellllll," Jason remarks as he arches his brow slightly at military-grade suit. "You really shouldn't have this. It should be returned to the military. I have a few contacts I might be able to get to take this with no questions asked..."

"Hey, I found it stuck in a trash chute, so... finders keepers, right?" the girl claims. "I'm pretty sure it's from Irongrip Security though."

"Taking a speeder parked in the street without an obvious owner isn't legal either, you know," Jason points out. "Why do you even want it? Planning a life of crime?"

"No!" Tracy quickly claims. "I mean, it's got other uses. It's short-throw holography is way better than the consumer stuff, plus it's got full covering, powered spring-heels and spider gloves.. err.. that is, it'd be perfect for a costume I'm designing. See, I want something really kickin' for GloamCon, and matching my character's look and being able to simulate a shape-shifted form would be... nice."

The sneaksuit looks like it's only been worn once or twice, judging from the 'new suit' smell and lack of wear.

Jason visibly twitches at the mention of GloamCon and more virtual games and characters. He fiddles a bit with the suit, including turning it inside out at one point and inspecting the battery pack. "I would be doing you a favor by not helping you," he notes as he continues to look over the suit. "The last thing anyone needs is to get lost into yet another fantasy."

"Hey, it's different this time," Tracy claims. The battery cluster runs down the spine of the suit, with protrusions out the back at both ends. "See, I do VR-scaping.. you know, world design?" the girl explains. "And since the Gloaming has a potentially infinite number of worlds, I figure I can sell some to DanTech. Eventually."

"Oh, that was the worst thing you could have said to me," Jason remarks. "The last think I want to do is help out Dantech in any way."

"That.. what?" Tracy asks, looking shocked. "Hey, this is.. You could still help me though!" she finishes.

"Ever watch conspiracy vids? A lot of them have basis in reality. No corporation ever operates in a completely honest way. Some dabble in black ops and military experiments because .... they aren't bound by the same rules," Jason explains as he taps his fingertips on the battery charger. "Companies like Dantech aren't just in it for the entertainment and ad revenue. They ... do things to people. Also ... something else you should know." He spins and leans back against the table. "This suit was sold one month ago, according to its serial number registration, to Irongrip Security. It has been worn at the most twice. These are expensive. So ... why would it be thrown away?"

"Maybe it's busted.. I don't know," Tracy says after the little lecture. "I can't charge it up to find out. I mean, you can't even seal it up without a charge, since it use electrostatic bonding or whatever instead zippers. And sure, DanTech probably has dirty stuff, but what corp doesn't? But not everything is unsavory, you know. And it's not like I'm interning there or anything!"

"Wait.. how'd you know when it was sold just by reading the serial number," the girl asks, once she notices that bit of info. "Do you have a radio jack?"

"The human skin has an electrical resistance of about eighty-thousand ohms. Once penetrated, the human body has about eight-hundred ohm resistance," Jason continues on, "If this thing shorted out and pierced your skin, it would take less than twenty-six milli-amps of current to kill you. That isn't much. It's possible this thing is defective and killed its last owner." He then waves his hand and answers the question, "As for how I know. Well, we all have our secrets. And if this was accidentally misplaced, well ... Vilius Irons isn't one to be nice about trying to get it back. ormer head of Avatar's security, that one. Also rumored to do black market 'shakedowns' and less than legal surveillance."

"But you could probably make that inventory record disappear, right?" Tracy asks coyly. "I'm sure if it was serious, it wouldn't have been dumped in a public trash chute. Poorly, for that matter, since it was caught in the lid still."

"Kimon, please secure my current project in the lab, would you?" Jason calls out to the empty room, "I'll resume work on it later and it isn't anything Miss Trudeau needs to be involved in. "Grab your suit. We can see what the onboard computer has recorded about its last mission before I agree to anything," he remarks to Tracy, pushes himself off the edge of the table, then heads towards the door he came through and waves for her to follow.

Tracy scoops it up and follows quickly. "Thanks Jason!" she says. "I really appreciate this!"

"You haven't seen the bill yet," Jason points out as they pass through the doorway and then through a rather ordinary-looking kitchen, complete with unwashed dishes in the sink.

The teenager curls her lip a bit at the mess. "You need a housekeeper," she suggests.

"Oh look a surcharge just appeared on your bill to help pay for one," Jason quips.

"Hey, no fair!" Tracy complains. "I helped you out for free when you were stuck in the Diadem. And it cost me everything I had when my house was burned down! And ruined the rest of my life in the process. You should at least give me a discount!"

Reality Check Lab
Taking up maybe half the space in the warehouse, Jason's lab is filled with tables heaped with all sorts of machinery and electronics, and the walls are lined with shelves full of parts and wire spools - even some old fashioned paper references for software and hardware that no one even makes anymore, but might still be used by some extremely old-fashioned companies out there. Part of the space is taken up with Jason's own office area, more of a chair behind two tables heaped with computer displays.
The floor is tiled, the ceiling is high and vaulted, with windows placed high enough that one would have to be immensely tall to be able to see through them into the inside... Assuming that one was standing on the ground.

"Life isn't fair. That's rule number one," Jason says as he enters his lab through a set of double doors. "Put it on the third table on the right. I have to go find one of the salvaged indusors to power it up." He waves his right hand over his head as he heads to a pile of parts as he adds, "RIU, keep her from touching anything dangerous, please."

Tracy lays the suit out on the indicated table, grumbling something about 'rules' and then looks up again. "RIU? Wasn't that the name of your Avatar?"

Previously unnoticed, a small blue robotic dragon pops up from behind a computer display! It beeps at Tracy happily.

"Aaugh!" Tracy yelps, bumping back into the table. "RIU! Is that really you, or did Jason recreate you.. somehow?" she asks quietly.

Smiling, the girl goes over and tries to rub the creature's head. "I guess that's a 'yes it's really me' beep," she says.

RIU purrs, slitting its luminously blue eyes. It isn't among the list of dangerous things that Tracy should be prevented from touching, right?

"So life isn't fair, but sometimes you get really cool stuff anyway," Tracy mutters, switching to the dragon's chin. "Maybe you'll rub some luck off on me, little guy."

"Nothing is free," Jason notes as he shows up beside the table carrying a box of apparent junk. He rummages around through it until he pulls out what looks like something military-grade. What gives it away is the drab olive color. He sets it near the receiver of the suit, then goes about hooking it up to the nearby bench power. Before turning it on, though, he connects another probe to the main data bus of the suit's computer so that he can monitor the data pattern on the bus via his own computer (and record it for investigation later, of course).

"Does RIU eat anything?" Tracy asks as she watches, still stroking the dragon. "I bet he chases moths. Boy, if that 'VR is Real' blogger ever saw him, he'd probably pop."

"He eats nosy teenagers," Jason remarks as he flicks the power on for the charger.

There's no sound from the suit as it begins accepting power. A nearby computer display flicks on with a pattern of hexagons. Letters float up from the bottom into the center to read: "Second Skin OS v3.3 - Starting." Beneath that, flickering lines of text show the various subsystems as they initialize.

RIU coils around to the table and sniffs at the suit, now that it finally gets to see the object of all this curiousity.

"How long does it take to fully charge?" Tracy asks. "Not long, right, if it's military? The references I found weren't specific, since it's like.. secret or something. But fast.." Her gray eyes light up and go wide as the system boots up.

"It depends on the current flow in the circuit. Fast charge means high heat," Jason remarks, though he sounds rather distracted about it as watches the boot sequence.

The startup sequence clears and the hexagons begin rotating around each other in a dizzying 'screensaver'-style effect.

Tracy tries to unobtrusively watch over Jason's shoulder. "It looks like it's working," she notes happily. "When can I try it out?"

"Kimon, Cross-reference name Amaranth and Soroyama, please, in all known databases," Jason says, eyes narrowed. He waves his hand once and says, "Not now. The programming has been modified. It may not be safe."

The toneless voice comes from a nearby robot - a humanoid droid made of a smooth golden plastic, its head somewhere between vulpine and human, dressed in a kimono. "Working."

The girl puffs out her cheeks, then poofs out a breath, trying to be patient. Then the robot speaks and grabs her attention. "I thought that was a... um... statue," she notes.

Kimon inclines its head toward Tracy politely. "Irrelevant results discarded. Amaranth: a cosmetic surgery and cybernetic prosthetics corporation. Soroyama: a Japanese name. Most relevant cross-correlation suggests an artist of late 20th century." A different computer display lights up and displays a series of art, fantastic silver-skinned robot women.

Jason taps his cheek. "Well, I would think that was obvious from the start. The question is what skin," he remarks rather dryly. "For example, this could be a concubine suit used by the company owner to have had ... disturbing adventures, if you catch my meaning." He looks for controls to see if he can activate the skin pattern.

The robot continues, "Cross-referencing: a Soroyama-brand skin program devised by Amaranth. Exclusively sold to higher tier customers, not available to the general public. Estimated price New-Dollar 5,000. This creates a mirror-like effect." The display switches to an Amaranth-brand advertisement showing what appears to be a living mirror walking through a garden.

"That's..." Tracy starts to say, and just trails off. "I've been due a bit of good luck, but this is amazing!"

"Hmm," Jason mutters as he continues to think. "The skin program is probably illegal, Tracy. Which means it may also be modified. I had better trigger it and see what it does."

"I'm not about to let you kill yourself in my lab," Jason says, "I don't have the time to deal with that. If it turns on safely, I may consider letting you put it on."

The computer display blinks and then displays: "SOROYAMA SKIN v3.3 Amaranth - active". The sneaksuit slowly fades away, hexagon by hexagon, into a perfect mirror of the ceiling of the room.

Jason lifts bits of the now reflective suit with a screwdriver, looking at it this way and that.

RIU admires its own reflection in the suit happily. It's never looked shinier. ^_^

Jason disables the suit skin so that it returns to its normal state. "I don't like this. The programming is stolen and the suit is of dubious origin," he remarks, frowning, "But I can't find anything obviously dangerous. I know I'm going to regret this, but ... put it on Tracy."

Grinning, Tracy grabs it up, and then looks around. "Where can I change?" she asks.

"I have a really bad feeling about this," Jason remarks. He doesn't dissuade RIU from following, though ... nor does he mention he can see what RIU sees if he concentrates on it.

"Hey RIU!" Tracy notes. She puts the suit on the small table, and removes and folds her clothes - including her shoes and socks - before working her way feet first into the stretchy suit. She of course does not know that Jason can see any of it! Finally she closes the electrostatic flap that runs from neck to groin along the front of the suit, and waits a moment for it to adjust and 'stick' to her skin, so that she can be heated and cooled by the micropores - literally making it a 'second skin'. It takes another minute to stuff her hair into the hood, but she doesn't pull down the face-covering veil yet. "Let's go see how it works now!" she tells the little dragon, and heads back out into the workshop.

RIU seems more interested in observing the suit and how it works, than any interest in Tracy herself. It beeps a cheerful reply as it flies back out.

"You look like you escaped a club of dubious reputation," Jason helpfully remarks as Tracy re-enters the lab. "Now come back over here and I'll control the suit skin patterns. I don't trust that thing."

Once back in the workshop, Tracy spins around once with a grin, then swipes a finger along the suit's left forearm to bring up the control panel. "I can do it from this," she notes, showing the screen.

"I would rather you didn't," Jason remarks and heads towards Tracy now. "It's likely dangerous. Quit being reckless!"

"SOROYAMA SKIN v3.3 Amaranth - active," confirms the readout. The sneaksuit resumes its mirror program. RIU chirps happily and flies around Tracy to admire the effect its wings have against the suit.

"It's a party costume," Tracy notes, and pulls down the veil. Once it's sealed and 'inflated' electrostatically, her face vanishes. "Wow, this is interesting!" she reports, holding her hand up. "There's an outline around me. I guess so you can tell where your body is when you run a chameleon program."

"You had better hope you can get out of that suit. Calm down and think clearly. No one would 'throw out' a suit that works perfectly," Jason says, "Check the suit for other skin patterns. There may be hidden ones."

Suddenly the control panel and the computer display both display a new message: "The Emperor's New Clothes - active. Suit seals - overload. You - have been had!" The suit shimmers and becomes a nude rendition of Tracy, save for the large bright yellow smiley faces over her chest and hip.

"You worry too much," Tracy notes, gazing at her palm. Apparently, she doesn't see what everyone else does. "It doesn't work like a true mirror," she notes, "I don't get the infinite depth effect when I look at my own reflection."

Jason brings his right hand up, covers his eyes, and starts laughing. "I tried to tell you there was something wrong with it. The skin program has a virus. You're showing up naked. Kimon, go fetch a real mirror, please. And a robe. And a can opener. And make sure we have a video capture of this; this may be useful in the future."

Jason was probably not prepared for the screaming and crying, and having an eighteen-year-old hiding under his worktable. Looking up the details on "The Emperor's New Clothes" virus didn't help any either.

RIU curls around Jason's shoulder. It trills worriedly as it peers down at the table from which distressing noises are emerging. Kimon for its part stands stolidly by with its cargo of a rectangular mirror (more often used to see behind machinery than one's face), a bathrobe, and a can-opener which seems more suited to opening cans than suits.

"Will you relax? It isn't that bad. You don't have anything I haven't seen in the movies," Jason points out in a not terribly helpful way to try and calm the teenager down. Just think if it like wearing a smiley-faced bikini? I'm sure it can be worked out."

"Kimon, please pull up any current details regarding The Emperor's New Clothes," Jason tells his robotic assistant.

"I don't care what you say, I don't see any smiley faces in the mirror!" Tracy declares. "Nobody's seen me like this before!"

"I did warn you," Jason points out with a sigh and the shake of his head. "You're not ugly, and you're in a safe place. I'm not about to do anything untoward and I hope you mother never suggested that I would."

The fox-like robot in the kimono - the way it's shaped doesn't suggest a gender, only careful neutrality - nods to Jason's query. "Search in progress. Context established. Originates from parable describing the story of a very good salesman and a very foolish Emperor. Most recently reported in connection with sabotaged skinsuit programs." Several computer displays light up with CERT reports on the virus and how it can be most expediently removed from infected skinsuits.

Along with the hyperventilating, there are gurgling sounds starting to come from under the table. Hunched over as she is, the gas-exchange membranes in Tracy's suit mask are probably having to deal with 'fluids' from her crying.

Jason rubs his temples. "Please list the safest methods for extraction, Kimon," he instructs his robotic servant. The hacker then drops down to his knees and crawls under the table with Tracy. "Please calm down," he repeats, holding up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. "It really isn't that bad."

One of the computer displays includes annotation on the virus origin - developed by a cyberterrorist group called Face Reality, it was distributed via peer-to-peer file transfer systems in copies of popular skinsuit programs. The source code contains a screed about today's society's preferring to live in delusions rather than accept themselves and the world as it stands.

Kimon intones, "Reversion to manufacturer software setting is recommended. This will remove all user-installed modifications and programs." A computer display magnifies the appropriate section of the CERT documentation.

Tracy looks terrible. With no way to wipe her eyes or nose, her face is sticky looking, and the rest of her isn't much better. The suit is either truly transparent or there are video pickups on the inner surface, because he can see where sweat is pooling in small pockets.

"Give me your right arm. If I can get to the access port, I might be able to link it to one of my systems and have it purge all skins and reset the suit," Jason instructs. "RIU, I'll need to you to bring over the connections bundle on my desk. One of the interfaces should work."

Kimon places the mirror and can opener on nearby surfaces, then hangs the robe on a convenient post.

It takes a few moments before Tracy manages to extend her right arm. Her palm and fingertips are already starting to look pruny from sweat. The suit's micropores aren't transporting it away from the skin.

The robotic dragon flutters its wings, which seem like crackling blue sheets of electricity, then launches from Jason's shoulder toward the bundle of connections. "Chreep!"

"You really need to calm down," Jason repeats as he tries to gently coax open one of the access panels on the suit. "Your panic is making you sweat more, which is just making this worse."

"Why are you freaking out so much?" Jason asks with an edge of exasperation in his voice. "So you look nude, mostly. So what?"

The way Tracy is shaking makes it none too easy to reach the access point much less peel it open, but after a few tries, Jason manages to unseal a panel. It unfolds to reveal some flat metal terminals.

Jason picks up the pile of 'universal' connectors. The only thing actually universal is that there are so many of the stupid things. He has to go one by one to find one that will connect into the suit terminals.

These seem to go with what looks like a flattened fork stuck to the end of a ribbon cable. As the cable slides in, the tiny light lights up on the connected side; the other remains unlit.

"I was sort of hoping I'd be in an actual relationship before a guy saw me naked, okay?" Tracy sputters. "And thanks for the indifference, it really makes me feel pretty.."

RIU peers at the dangling cable end. As it crouches on the table, its tailtip flickers side to side.

"Look. This is nothing. Worse things could happen than what did. Try a woman kidnapped into a virtual world and had herself mind-raped by an AI and mutated into a shape-changing fox-girl-thing. Or imagine having your skull cut open and some bastard deciding to use experimental wetware in your brain, complete with a 'kill' mode. So forgive me if I can't get worked up over this," Jason finally snaps. He holds the other end up to RIU and says, "Jack this into your systems. I'll do this the direct way."

The sight of the data ribbon apparently coming out of her arm, and just closes her eyes. "Yeah, all terrible, but at least they got some sympathy I bet."

RIU catches the cable in one paw and chomps the tip! Both lights immediately blink a deep and vivid blue.

"Maybe.. if.. you.. uhh... people.." Tracy mutters, and starts to slump. At least she's not shaking anymore.

RIU's eyes glow brightly blue as it stares intently down the length of the cable.

Bars of static grow larger. The sneaksuit flickers back to its default grey here and there.

The screen goes entirely to static! And then clears, the suit reverting to plain grey all over. "Second Sight Maintenance Access," the computer display announces. A list of options follows, the last of which is 'Revert to Factory Default Software'.

The options scroll and a bar wraps around the first one: 'Backing up all Skin programs to external device'. The cable pulsates as a stream of data presumably flows across the line to be recorded into some backup repository somewhere. After a minute, the bar moves and wraps around the option to reset to factory settings. It flashes once, then the screen goes all static, then is followed by a repeat of the original bootup sequence as it comes back online. Jason's eyes open slowly and he has to blink a few times before he can focus well on his surroundings. He reaches over and pulls the cable out of the terminals on Tracy's arm, then lightly tugs it out of RIU's mouth.

The skin of the suit quickly develops a film of moisture as the pores reactivate and start moving sweat away from Tracy's skin. She flops onto her back, and fumbles at the face mask until she breaks the seal and pulls it and the hood back. She's bright red and panting like a race-horse.

RIU obediently lets the cable end loose. Its forked tongue flickers around its muzzle as if it's opining the data was delicious.

"If you had remained calm you wouldn't have overheated so quickly," Jason says rather ... helpfully. "Come on, there is a bath back near the conference room. "You can cool yourself off there," he offers as he crawls out from under the table.

"Help me up, please," Tracy whispers, crawling partway out from under the table and leaving a damp trail behind her.

Jason crouches down, hooks his arm around her waist, and helps her up to her feet. Without asking, he makes sure her arm is around his shoulder and he half-walks-half-carries Tracy back through the kitchen and to the guest bath. "Look, you're pretty. But it would not have helped anything if I had reacted to that than dealing with the problem at hand," he tries to explain and somehow sound sympathetic. "Nor would it have had I freaked out. High pressure situations require remaining calm and dealing with the matter at hand, not getting distracted."

Tracy doesn't really respond. She has her head down, so her wet hair hides whatever expression she may have. Once they've reached the bathroom, she unseals the front of the suit to release another gush of water and heat. "Thank you," she mutters. She struggles a bit with the suit, then sighs and asks. "Can you peal this off of me too? And.. uh.. something.. canteens. My belt.. canteens. Electrolytes."

"RIU, can you get her belt and canteens, please?" Jason asks the electrical dragon as he positions himself behind Tracy she he doesn't have the opportunity to see anything more than he already has as he goes about the rather difficult task of pealing her out of the sneaksuit. "What did you mean earlier when you said your life was ruined?" he finally asks.

"Huh?" Tracy responds blearily, once she's got her hands pulled free. "Lost.. my home, friends. Thought I was targeted for drug running or something, nasty rumors. Avatars... all my old friends preferred the 'new improved' version of me. How pathetic is that? Pushed aside for an artificial version of yourself." She manages to get over the rim of the tub, and fumbles with the lever until cold water sprays out of the shower head.

RIU chimes cheerily, whooshes down toward the pile of discarded clothes like a raptor stooping. snag! It snags the belt and heads for the bathroom.

Jason leaves Tracy to shower in peace. He stands outside the doorway, though, so talking is still possible. "Well, if they preferred the new version they weren't really your friends in the first place," he tries to offer helpfully from the outside. "I didn't fare much better. I haven't talked to any of the people who lived through that with me in years now. All I can say is 'it happens' I guess. You do have plenty of life ahead of yourself, though. You're young. More than enough time to make new friends and have a nice, normal, life. Stay away from the fantasy games. All they do is hurt you."

"New school and faces in the Towers, but.. can't hide the name, and questions always come up eventually," Tracy says as she presses her hands to the shower-tub wall and holds her head directly under the stream. "Do you have nightmares? About all that, I mean?" she asks.

The sounds of fervent flapping herald RIU's approach as it works to gather altitude under the surprisingly heavy weight of the canteens. It drops them off onto the bathroom floor with a clatter, then flits back out to rejoin Jason.

"Often," Jason remarks. Outside he guides RIU to coil about his shoulders to rest. "Did your mother ever tell you we were living on borrowed time in that world? The longer we stayed, the more contaminated we became. Eventually, we would never have been able to leave without physically decaying due to unstable molecules. I spent most of my time in that world trying to keep a decaying, old, ship running. Alone in the rusting bowels of an old ship with all the creaks and hissing. It looks fun in movies, but in reality you feel like you're in a coffin with the lid slowly closing on you."

"She never told me.. I guess none of the really horrible stuff like that," Tracy answers. The sounds change, as she starts warming up the water to turn it from a cool-down to a real shower, at least once she finds the soap. "For me it's the fire and stuff. I dream that I'm stuck, get burned up, or that the fire is talking to me. I got really depressed when I was like sixteen, and my parents argued and argued about sending me to a psychiatrist. Got a company woman instead, a counselor. Can't talk to outsiders about what happened, after all. It really sucked. Hey.. before I looked like a pruned-up slug, you got a decent look right? On a scale from one to ten, what would you rate me? And were you telling the truth about the smiley faces or just trying to make me feel better?"

"It would not be proper for me to rate you," Jason remarks, "And I was not making it up, there were smiley faces places strategically."

The water turns off, and the flapping of towels commences. "I've been out with three guys in four years.. for like a total of maybe eight dates," Tracy notes, before coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. Her hair is still damp and stringy though, and she's got her jogging belt over her shoulder. She sits on the couch, crosses her legs under her, then uncaps a canteen and drinks it dry.

Jason rubs his forehead when she comes out undressed save for a towel and turns so that he's not facing the couch. "That is eight more dates than I have ever been on," he notes, "So you're doing better than I am. You at least have normal relationships. Well, as normal as anyone of your age ever has."

"If they normal for my age you wouldn't have been the first one to see me naked," Tracy quips, and holds her canteen up in salute, despite Jason's back being turned. She puts it in her lap, along with her hands, and says, "Okay, I don't think I'm gonna puke, so you can turn around and start scolding me now for being an idiot kid with more curiosity than brains."

"Would it make you feel better to be scolded?" Jason actually asks, but does not turn around.

Tracy does another of her puffed-out-cheek sighs, and says, "Probably. It's better than beating myself up. And it'll make me feel more like a stupid kid than an irresponsible adult."

RIU looks over at Tracy curiously, but doesn't seem to see anything unusual in her towel attire.

"Everyone does incredibly stupid things in their lives. Yours was at least non-fatal and won't leave permanent scars," Jason says as he gestures with his left hand. "You already realize what you did was a mistake, so I really don't think yelling will help."

"If I'd done it back in my apartment, I'd probably be dead," Tracy notes, and then says. "I don't like talking to the back of your head. Do I make you that uncomfortable? It's because it's not an emergency now, right?"

"You're eighteen, I'm .. a lot older. There's a point where things become 'creepy old guy' when dealing with women," Jason claims. "Plus, your mother will try to kill me if she knew any of this."

"Pffffft," Tracy goes, then starts in on the second canteen. "I'm convinced my mother wanted me to grow up to pilot a giant robot against space monsters. My dad might worry, but I can handle him. You can't live in fear forever, and you hardly seem someone to care what others think of you, when you live by yourself and do.. what were you working on when I got here, anyway?"

"Personal project. Not important and not up for discussion," Jason says with a note of finality on that subject. "As for leaving in fear ... have someone split open your head some day and diddle in it with wetware, and see how paranoid you become, eh? You asked how I knew about the purchase date? It's because I have a direct link with everything in this building."

Finishing off the canteen and pulling it out of her mouth with a pop, Tracy says, "You are the coolest guy I've ever met." Then she pats the couch. "Sit down, tell me about it. How the hell did someone get into your head, and why?"

"I was a stupid, young, hacker who let curiosity over-ride common sense, ran afoul of some people in powerful positions ... and when I was in a rather horrid accident, they took it as a chance to make sure I could be monitored and neutralized if I became too much of a problem," Jason says and still doesn't move towards the couch. "One of the employees of your little friend, Dantech, was involved. The only good that came out of it is that my link to RIU here is quite ... intimate, for lack of a better term. I can feel what he feels and see what he does if I focus on it."

"That.. doesn't make any sense," Tracy says. "Why go to all that expense, and then let you go? If it was an experiment, they'd want you around. If they thought you'd be a problem.. well, if you already had a serious head injury they could have just let you die or be a vegetable. So, logically, you can't be a unique case. There must be others they've done it to, and some reason for it. Have you tried to find out more? And if you don't come sit down, I'll have to stand up and come over there, and I'm really kinda dizzy still and the towel may fall off, whereas it can't fall off if I'm on the couch. And do you have any fruit juice or anything that's not a soft drink?"

"It was to test experimental designs, and no, I haven't dug much into it. I've had too many other matters to deal with, like making a living," Jason says with a hint of exasperation returning to his voice. He practically stomps off into his kitchen, leaving Tracy alone for a moment.

"So, what do you do for work, exactly?" Tracy calls, eyeing the odd posters. "Did you make these posters yourself? Anyway.. you hunt down cybercrooks, right?"

Jason returns with sealed bottle of apple juice and tosses it to Tracy before he sits down on the couch ... and looking unhappy about it. "I mainly deal with making sure a companies systems can withstand common attack patterns and how to recognize social engineering hacks. Sometimes, yes, I deal with tracking down who is breaking into a system. That's how the whole Fracture mess started. The best person to catch a crook is another one, or so the wisdom goes."

"So you were a crook?" Tracy asks, turning a bit to face Jason as she opens the bottle and has a swig.

"Once. I'm legit now, so don't get any ideas," Jason remarks. He finally gives Tracy a sideways look and asks, "Did you come here just for help with that suit, or were you looking for something more?"

"Maybe some education," the girl admits, and scoots a little closer before drinking from the bottle again. "Why'd you assume I wanted to use the sneaksuit to commit crimes?"

RIU winds back around Jason's shoulder again, now that he's settled down, tucking its wings up against its body.

"Because I can't imagine an eighteen year old girl would want to use it for something legitimate," Jason notes, "As you said earlier, it doesn't make sense."

"Well, to be honest, I thought I could use it for freerunning and climbing without being seen," she says. "You know.. not looking like 'gang bait' was it? But to be a criminal I'd need to know how to get through locked windows and doors and stuff, wouldn't I?"

"Or you could pick a safer hobby, maybe one your mother could participate in," Jason points out. "Climbing and bypassing simple physical security is the easy part. It's what you don't know on the other side that is the real threat."

Setting the bottle down, Tracy scoots over more - and because 18-year-olds are inherently evil creatures, she turns and lies back along the couch, resting her head in Jason's lap. "It sounds fun though," she says. "I bet it could be useful, maybe even to someone like you? How about you teach me, and I'll wash your dishes and run errands and make you pancakes and stuff? You know.. show you what it's like to have a friend?"

Jason experiences one of those moments where it feels like something shorts out in his brain. "Ah, look. I'm quite happy here alone. I don't need a friend. And uh, trying to flirt things out of me won't exactly work, either," he says as he holds his arms up and out of the way as if touching Tracy would be akin to touching some pox-cursed person.

The small robotic dragon licks Tracy's nose, though it feels more like getting zapped with a bit of static electricity.

"You think I'm flirting?" Tracy asks, almost about to laugh as she rubs her zapped nose. "I may as well be an alien to you. If I knew how to flirt.. okay, maybe I was a little. It's nice having someone to talk to who you don't have keep The Big Secret from, and you did tell me to relax. You should relax too. Neither one of us would know what to do anyway, and I'm keeping the towel on even though every square inch of me feels itchy. But I'm not touching Spandex again until tomorrow.. not after what I just went through. I'm trying to be nice, so take your own advice and relax. I'm not trying to seduce you. And..." She suddenly goes a bit pale. "You can see what RIU does, can't you?" she asks a bit accusingly.

RIU looks at Jason. Nope, Jason looks totally normal to it. It looks back at Tracy askance.

"Only if I try to, otherwise I filter it out," Jason remarks with his right brow arched at Tracy's burst of babbling, "I would go insane otherwise."

"Were you watching while I was changing in the kitchen," the girl asks a bit more coldly.

"But you didn't warn me either that you could," Tracy notes, pursing her lips and.. twisting them about a bit, as if trying to chew with them. "And you weren't actually recording anything right?"

"You didn't warm me before you put your head in my lap while being half-naked, either," Jason points out. "And no, I don't have anything recorded ... at the moment."

"At the moment? What does that mean?" she asks, looking.. uncertain. "I'm still undecided if I should feel insulted or relieved. But if you didn't record anything.. I still just have your word for it about the smiley faces and.. I should just forget the whole thing," she says, and raises and drops her arms in a sort of lying-down shrug. "My modesty is blown, and it was totally wasted as well. Figures. What was I talking about before?"

"Look, I don't know what you want. You panic that someone might have seen you naked, which I didn't. Then you get upset that I'm not falling for being manipulated," Jason finally says in exasperation. "You're as frustrating as a woman I nearly threw out of an air car once!"

"Gah, you really can't deal with complicated people, can you?" Tracy asks, shaking her head while she looks up at Jason. "And you really don't care what happens to me as long as it happens outside your little world, right?"

"I have difficulty dealing with crazy people," Jason grumbles and looks towards the ceiling. "So, basically ... the whole suit thing was an excuse to come talk to me? Well, at least partially?"

RIU swishes its tailtip like a metronome while it follows Jason's gaze to the ceiling. Nope, standard boards.

"I wanted the suit," Tracy notes. "But I wouldn't mind a job. And I'm hoping you like me enough to teach me about locks, because otherwise I'll go learn it on my own and it wouldn't be as good as what you'd teach me so I'll probably screw up and get in trouble because once I start a challenge I have to try and see it through. And I bet you won't give or sell me the charger either, but see, then I'd have to come back here to get it charged and you'd have some control over how I used it as a result and could keep me out of trouble that way as well."

"No, I was wrong. You're worse than Inari," Jason says as he flails his arms at the ceiling. It's even more irritating that he could keep some control over how the suit was used by keeping control of the charging system. "You do realize your mother will not approve of you associating with me."

RIU dodges around between Jason's flailing arms, scrabbling to keep its perch on his shoulders!

"I can tell her we're sleeping together, then she won't care about anything else we're doing," Tracy says, smiling like a cat and batting her eyelashes.

Jason goes stiff at that. "You even remotely joke about something like that, Tracy, and I'll forget my somewhat tenuous friendship with your mother and have you put away for more crimes than you could count," he says in an unusually harsh tone. "That's not funny. It's not remotely funny. I'm a lot of things, but I have never been a leach or a pervert."

"Like she'd believe me," Tracy says. "She knows I'd never even tell her if I had a boyfriend. And you gotta relax. Do I have to kiss you to prove there's no chemistry and that I'm safe to be around? Because I'm not gonna do that. What I'm gonna do, is wash your dishes. Then clean up my slime trail in your lab, fall asleep on this couch, and maybe make you breakfast in the morning if you have any actual cookable food. In the towel, because I'm not putting on any tight clothing and certainly not up to running five miles back to the bus stop while still recovering from heat exhaustion. Unless you have an extra bed or something I can use instead of the couch."

Jason rubs his forehead again. "The couch folds out into a bed. Not a great one, but it is serviceable," he says with a sigh. "My lab is generally off limits; I do have private projects I'm working on that want to remain private. There's an entire garden on the roof that supplies most of my food. Also, you do not leave the building after nightfall. The streets are dangerous. And don't forget, I do know everything that goes on in this building, so don't try to sneak into places or access my personal files. And for the love of all that is sacred, stay out of my bedroom."

"Yeah, I can live with that," Tracy says, and pulls herself upright with a groan, before standing up. Then she turns back and says, "Hey, that robot of yours brought a bathrobe, didn't it? Because I'm gonna wear that instead. Frees up my hands. Also, if you have a garden, I should start teaching you yoga. Helped me through some dark times, plus now I can put both of my ankles behind my head and hold that for like.. a half hour. Does wonders for the back." She turns away and heads for the kitchen then stops and turns around again. "Oh, one more thing.." she says, narrowing her almond-shaped eyes a bit.

Jason really didn't need the mental image of Tracy with her ankles behind her head. HE feels that headache coming on again. "What is it now?" he asks, "And the robe was in the lab. I can get it to bring it here."

"I'll get it, you set up the bed and get me something for a headache," Tracy notes, then steps into the kitchen. "Oh yeah! The one more thing," she says, then leans back out. She's got the towel held out in her right hand, and her left arm across her chest. "For future reference, I'm an 8.. minimum.." Then she drops the towel and vanishes, presumably to fetch the robe.

RIU beeps cheerily and gives Jason a look as if to suggest 'She's going to be fun to have around, right?'

Jason, meanwhile, is wondering where he put the old rolodex that had Holly's phone number in it. Sometimes old tech is still the most secure, after all. With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet so that he can pull out the sofabed. "This is going to delay the test run," he remarks to RIU, "And just when I thought I had the temperature and contraction rate issues worked out. I really ought to just throw her out on her butt. Boot to the fanny, just like Inari in the air car." It's now his turn to shake his head. "Yeah, just like Inari. You did wonders with her too, didn't you. You can't even find the courage to call her. Maybe I'll be lucky tonight and just have a stroke."

One of the problems with having a sleepover guest is that security monitors keep going off every time she moves. From Jason's perspective, however, security overrides privacy when there are potentially dangerous or sensitive projects to protect. The low-light hidden cameras in the conference room didn't need infrared illuminators (which would have given away their locations to anyone with the appropriate eyewear), since there was just enough ambient glow from the monitors. By 10pm the lights where out and Tracy was a low-contrast blob getting into the bed.

And even though he usually makes a point to lock internal doors at night, he doubly so does tonight, making certain his lab is secure, as well as his own bedroom, given the odd behavior of his current 'guest'. "If she comes in here somehow anyway, RIU, blast her into next week," he mutters as he falls face-first onto his bed, then hits the light switch on the nearby dresser.

RIU beeps! While its metallic face doesn't allow it the range of emotions that an organic one would, over the years Jason's learned to read its feelings as easily as his own. This one is definitely 'Yes sir!'

At 2:07am the motion alarm went off, and the cameras showed Tracy tossing and turning before jerking violently awake and kicking away the bedcover. This was followed immediately by her sitting up, grabbing a pillow and rocking back and forth as she cried into it. This kept the cameras going for a good five minutes, before the girl set aside the pillow and began a twenty-minute nude yoga workout, complete with breathing exercises and stretches, ending with what might have been the aforementioned ankles-behind-the-head trick, but mercifully she was doing it face-down to the bed. After a few minutes of motionlessness, the alarm went off again when she finally unfolded herself and got back under the covers.

"I should have just shot her," Jason complains as he tries to cover his head with a pillow about five minutes into the yoga. Not that it really helps him any since he receives direct feeds from the security cameras; so a pillow doesn't block it out. "Or maybe pretended to not be home. Why do I always get the insane ones?"

The motion alarm was quiet until around five in the morning, showing Tracy just lying on her back and staring at the ceiling for a few minutes before finally grabbing the bathrobe and getting up. She vanished into the bathroom, and things were quiet for a good half hour, until she came out, turned on the conference room lights and went into the kitchen.

Jason gave up on sleep well before five. He threw on some worn work clothes and headed into his lab, yawning. Might as well get some work done since the teenager isn't likely going to let him sleep easily anyway. Plus work always helps him deal with situations that make him uncomfortable. Work he can control ... and there is always a project that needs doing.

In the kitchen, Tracy first goes to the doors to the workshop and peeks through the crack for a moment. Figuring that Jason isn't about to barge in, she picks up her clothes from the day before. She gets the shorts, socks and shoes on, then takes off the bathrobe to pull on her sport top. The robe goes back on over this, and she begins washing the accumulation of dirty dishes and exploring the kitchen as she figures out where to put them afterwards. She keeps out two place settings, and rummages through the pantry, pulling out what she needs to make pancakes.

RIU loops around the laboratory, where it's been all night since it doesn't need to sleep. Its brief pause in front of Jason is as clear an 'All clear, sir!' as any sergeant could ask for.

By the time Tracy looks through the door, Jason's back can be seen slightly hunched over where he's working on something at one of the work tables. Next to him is what looks like an ancient holo projector, one that used atomized water as a reflective surface to draw shapes in the air. It's hard to make out what it displays, other than an exploded view of some complex device. Periodic flashes of blue light appear, so he may be arc-welding something at the moment. He's not paying attention to the kitchen, at any rate.

After gathering what she thinks might result in usable batter, Tracy mixes it all together in the biggest bowl she could find, using the biggest spoon. A little added oatmeal and brown sugar shouldn't make a huge difference, she figures. Soon enough, she has something actually cooking on a skillet.

The kitsune-headed robot stands behind Jason silently, its eyes flickering between colors. Its kimono for the day features test tubes and flasks full of colorful liquids.

When the first batch of flapjacks is done, Tracy nibbles on one to test it. After pursing her lips and bobbing her head from shoulder-to-shoulder in thought, she mutters, "It'll taste fine with syrup." She pours the second batch and sets the first on the table, then goes to the workshop door and knocks on. "Breakfast!" she calls, although she coughs at the end.

paf RIU is right there in Tracy's face! It whirls around her a few times, then darts to go see what's cooking.

"Augh!" the girl yelps and nearly falls backwards. "RIU! I.. didn't know you ate? Do you eat? Or.. just want to sit at the table?" she asks the not-quite-robot.

An advantage for him and a disadvantage for anyone who might try to spy is that he doesn't have to be vocal with any of his equipment, Kimon included. There are moments, though, that end up with colorful cursing when something doesn't go right. Yelling breakfast when someone is working is one of those times. There's a loud 'crack', then something metallic goes ricocheting around the workshop! "Just when I was adjusting the output!" he complains loudly. He yanks off his goggles, tosses them on the workshop, then heads towards the kitchen.

The tiny dragon surveys the room! Sadly, its appetite appears to be of the intellectual sort. It noses one of the pancakes, establishes that the object is neither mobile nor shiny, then goes to investigate the skillet and the novel sight of an empty sink.

"Don't get batter on you," Tracy advises the dragon-droid, as she flips over the current batch of cakes. "It might gum stuff up, and then you'd need a B-A-T-H.." she warns.

The door from the lab swings open. A somewhat sooty-looking Jason comes through as he rubs his eyes. "What are you doing?" he grumbles. He peers at the sink next, then adds, "And where did my dishes go?"

"I.. washed them and put them away?" the girl replies uncertainly, clutching the front of the bathrobe and shrinking a bit.

"Oh. You didn't have to do that," Jason says a little less gruffly. He grabs one of the chairs, spins it around, then sits down in it so he can lean forward into the backrest. "You're up early," he says. "Aren't you tired? You didn't sleep very well."

"I slept as if I were in my own bed," Tracy claims, then pauses as she flips the pancakes into a second plate. "What makes you think I didn't sleep well?" she asks.

Beep! RIU launches into the air, spreading blue flame wings - all show, no heat, Tracy has noticed - and then lands on Jason's shoulder. Its wings truncate to small curves of light. It noses toward the skillet as if to say, Look! You can make SMALL CIRCLES OF FRIED LIQUID with that thing!

"Because you kept setting off the motion sensors," Jason remarks as he slumps down to the point his chin is resting on the backs of his arms. RIU's own antics earn him a comment of, "Yes, cooking. I know I don't do it very much. Or very well."

"I didn't notice any," Tracy says, setting her plate down and turning off the griddle. She frowns for a moment, glancing at the corners of the ceiling.. then just shakes her head and puffs out her cheeks as she exhales. "Doesn't matter at this point anyway," she says softly, then watches Jason to see if he eats one of the pancakes.

The little dragon noses at his master's hair. Evidently its master didn't get quite enough sleep! It gives Tracy a sidelong look.

"The point of a good security system is to not be noticeable. Also, yoga in the nude can be distracting," Jason adds as he pushes himself back up a little more. He grabs a fork and pokes one of the pancakes experimentally. Then while looking at it as if it were some face-eating demon, he cuts off a small piece and actually tries it.

Tracy blushes, and says, "Sorry if I kept you up," in an actually apologetic tone. "I get nightmares a lot and the yoga helps me calm back down."

Jason hasn't fallen over and started twitching yet, at least. "Nightmares?" he asks as he gestures with the fork for her to continue.

"Yeah," Tracy says, giving a little shrug and focusing on her plate now, where she starts cutting up her own pancakes. "The usual stuff, like being dead, in your coffin, in the middle of a party where people just.. sort of ignore you. Then they push you into the big oven. I usually wake up at that point. I guess you must have weird dreams too."

"Nothing usually so ... well, disturbed," Jason says matter-of-factly as he cuts another piece of pancake and eats it. "I got over worrying about people paying attention to me long ago. It's better if they don't."

RIU glides across the tabletop to the nearby outlet, which has an odd looking device attached, terminated with a metal orb.

"Yeah, I sort of picked up that you don't like it," Tracy admits. Then she takes a deep breath, and says, "About last night.. See, I was really, really hitting bottom. I mean, I was completely embarrassed and stupid and.. well, my self-esteem was never that great anyway. It took me three days to work up the nerve to bring the suit to you. And I guess.. I just wanted to grab for something I could feel more in control of, even though that was making you feel uncomfortable. It was really juvenile and.. and not the person I want to be. Not like she was, using people and.." She is clutching her fork so hard now her fingers are turning white.

CHOMP The tiny dragon clamps its jaws around the orb. Bright blue sparks crack around it, running down its length! Despite the picturesque show, RIU seems unaffected; indeed, it purrs as it soaks up its breakfast of electricity.

Jason almost says something he would probably regret quickly. Thankfully he doesn't. Instead, he sets his fork down and reaches across the table and actually places his soot-smudged hand over the back of Tracy's. "Listen. I'm not that great in dealing with other people. Never have been. I'm usually too blunt for most people or too eccentric. But one thing I am not, is someone that would try to get a woman to do intimate things as payment for anything. There are lines that should never be crossed, and pushing someone to violate personal space is one of them," he says, "Nor do I ever want to seem to be one of those people. If anything, I'm too careful with things like that. I don't ... " He draws his hand back, then waves once instead of completing the thought. "Anyway, don't worry about it. You're nothing like Sasha, if that's who you mean. You don't have huge claws, cackle like a maniac, hide in mirrors, and betray everything that breathes."

Tracy actually manages a smile. "Thanks," she says. "I'm genuinely sorry and ashamed about that. And I never thought you would take advantage. I mean, that'd be a little too weird, given.. hmmm." She suddenly seems really interested in her pancakes now.

Not making eye-contact, Tracy mutters, "Well, when my parents broke up over my dad's affair with Sasha, I figured... but I see now that there probably wasn't anything between you and my mom! Right?" She looks up timidly at Jason as she asks the question.

Jason suddenly starts coughing. No ... choking. His arms flail as he promptly falls out of his chair.

"Jason!" Tracy yelps and scrambles under the table to reach him. "I shouldn't have used the oatmeal!" she wails.

Jason tries to wave Tracy off as he gets his breathing back under control and pushes himself to his knees at least. "No," he rasps as he seems to win the battle with the food trying to kill him. "There was nothing between us. Ever."

"I know the Heimlich maneuver," Tracy says, hovering close. "Sorry if I upset you again! I was really thinking all adults were self-centered jerks at the time. Do you want something to drink?"

The miniature dragon peers at the pancakes suspiciously. It approaches Jason's plate, then extends a tiny pawful of claws, which it uses to test the flapjack for evidence of choking material.

Finding no tough fibrous material, or chunks of plastic, RIU retracts its claws and then hops down to flutter protectively around Jason. Rreeep!

"I'm fine, I'm fine. The question caught me by surprise since it seemed like Holly and I were trying to kill each other more than anything," Jason says, then draws a long breath in recovery from flapjack doom. "It's probably a rather sad statement on me, but the person I was ever somewhat close to wasn't even human." He pats RIU's head, then has to add as he lifts RIU back to his shoulders, "Well, the two people."

The dragon coils happily around Jason's shoulder and neck, eyes a more contented shade of blue now.

"Really?" Tracy says, sounding a little relieved. "Then why are you afraid of my mother finding out I visited? I mean, I know why I was, but.. that's not much of a reason now that I know better."

"Because I don't think she thinks I'm safe. That I'll corrupt people, or something," Jason says as he collapses back into his chair. It takes him a moment to find is errant fork after his little shock.

"Ohhhhh," Tracy says, returning to her seat. "I don't think that'll be an issue, not with me," she claims. "I mean, I'm pretty hard to corrupt," she clarifies, and then gestures to her torso. "I blossomed at fifteen but I'm still original-in-package."

"Are you trying to offer me a challenge?" Jason asks. His brow arches up slightly.

Tracy blinks and.. thinks in silence for a moment. "There are rules to challenges," she says. "A challenge can't be impossible, illegal or too likely to result in injury. If a person meets their challenge, they win. If they can get the challenger to drop the challenge via bluffs or other means, they win then too. If they get to a point where they just can't go through with it and call quits, the challenger wins. So, if were to challenge you to... uh.. take back your bathrobe," she suggests, tugging on the fabric, "that would be a valid challenge, because it would involve pushing your boundaries.. while also pushing at mine a bit so there's a chance I'd call it off, if you manage to making me uncomfortable about it."

RIU prreeps? and rests its chin on top of Jason's head, examining Tracy. It looks down at its master.

"I suppose there could be stakes too," Tracy adds as an afterthought - as if the challenge is the whole point.

"The bathrobe would be a bad challenge," Jason notes, "Because I could just close my eyes. Easy." He resumes eating as if everything were perfectly normal.

"Well, you'd still have to touch me though," Tracy notes. "There's a belt. Do you really want to be fumbling around blind?" She grins, since she knows she's got her regular clothes on underneath. "But let's see! I challenge you to get your bathrobe off of me. Also.. uh.. I should ask how much I owe you for fixing the suit?"

"More than you can afford to pay me," Jason remarks as he tosses his fork back on to the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me a moment," he adds, stands, and heads back into his lab, leaving her alone with RIU for a moment.

RIU looks toward its departing master, then gives Tracy a sidelong look as if to suggest You two!

"Hmmph, I could have done a payment plan or work in trade probably," Tracy tells RIU. "At the very least, he needs somebody to do some grocery shopping. Does he just eat his garden vegetables raw?"

Two minutes pass before Jason comes back wearing gloves and carrying a toolbox. He pulls out several vice-grip pliers, some rope, and scissors. He measures out a two meter long length of rope, cuts it, and drapes it around his neck. The two ends are tied to the pairs of pliers.

"Uhhh..." Tracy says, looking a bit alarmed. She tries to distract herself by cleaning out the mixing bowl at the sink.

Whistling, now, Jason comes over and clamps the pliers on each side of the robe's collar and tightens them down so that they're firmly gripping the material. "Never challenge an engineer," he remarks as he does so, "Because I have tools that make this easy to do without touching you. The rope keeps it easy to find the pliers, which have a good grip. And the scissors ... well, the belt won't last long to them. So it's snip then yank."

"But.. uh.. what if I..." Tracy says, and then reaches up to one of the pliers and tries to unclamp it.

"That's why I brought the gloves," Jason notes, seemingly unconcerned, "But I also have more rope. I could just tie you up. Or get a hose and soak you with cold water, for that matter. There are plenty of solutions..."

"Yeah, but.. you'd never do something that drastic, right?" Tracy asks, thinking of a way to perfectly block Jason's attempts. She can't give in on the first challenge, not when she can't really lose.. although the attempts do sound scary.

"I had to deal with your mother. Do you really think I wouldn't?" Jason asks, grabs the scissors, and tries to cut the belt!

With the scissors tossed, Tracy sees an opening.. and rushes towards Jason! He might claim he can just close his eyes, but if she presses right up against him, he'd have to feel it! So she tries to hug him!

Most guys look happy when they're hugged. Jason just ... sighs. Since they were near the sink, well ... Jason reaches around her as if to return the hug. Instead, he grabs the sprayer in one hand and puts the other on the faucet control. Lips quirked up in amusement, he tries to tuck the nozzle into the back of the robe collar, squeeze the handle ... then turn the water on.

FWOOSH The hose floods the back of her clothes and the bathrobe with icy cold water.

The girl pushes back on Jason then, and holds her arms out as she grits her teeth from the cold! Without the belt, it's clear she's got her regular clothes on underneath, but now they're starting to darken from the water and there's nothing to protect her midriff at all.

So Jason kneels down, grabs the hem of the robe, then yanks upward as he stands to entangle the girl further, to maybe even yanking the robe off!

The partly Chinese, partly Hispanic, mostly Caucasian girl seems distracted from the challenge by the shock of bitingly cold water sleeting down her back. A twist here, pull here, and-- to Jason's surprise, little resistance from Tracy -- the robe's off, leaving her with her regular clothes (now soaking wet).

The now unanchored hose clatters on the floor, spraying water in every direction.

"You play mean!" Tracy accuses, and since she's right there.. lunges for the hose.

Jason tosses the wet robe to the side and since Tracy is going for the hose ... well he reaches over and tries to turn the water off. "I did warn you I would use a hose," he points out.

Just as Tracy has Jason lined up... The water flow dies. She's left pointing the nozzle at him.

"I thought you were bluffing," Tracy says through chattering teeth. "W-was that the only b-b-bathrobe?" she asks. Luckily wet Spandex isn't any more embarrassing than dry Spandex.

RIU, having been watching the whole altercation, bounces up and down cheering its master's victory! It manages a perfect rendition of an old-style videogame 'victory' theme.

"Only robe," Jason says as he reaches over and plucks the nozzle from Tracy's hands. "But there are blankets," he adds, then offers his gloved hand to help her back to her feet. "Now .. if you're done being silly ... are you okay?" he asks.

"Freezing," Tracy admits, taking the hand and.. dripping as she hugs herself. "Do you have a c-clothes dryer?" She eyes RIU for his choice of music.

"The laundry equipment is in the lab area," Jason admits as he helps her up. "Would you have preferred I take it easy on you?" he asks. "I always fight to win."

"Well, I'll remember that now," the girl remarks. "Are you going to claim a victory prize or anything?"

"Yes, I want to get a full body scan of you, preferably without clothing," Jason says as he releases her hand and heads towards the lab. He waves for her to follow.

"A.. wait, like.. a VR Scan or.." Tracy asks, still hunched over a bit from the cold as she follows.

"Well, if you ever want me to make significant modifications to that suit, I'll need the dimensions I have to work with," Jason remarks as they enter the lab. "You can bring it later, just wireframe. I won't ask to scan you myself."

"I don't have access to a scanner like that," Tracy says, only hissing a little through her teeth now. If she'd been barefoot it would probably be a lot worse. "Where's your scanner? You've already watched me do yoga so it's not like I have anything left to be modest about."

"In the lab, along with the rest of my equipment. I'll go get you a blanket," Jason says and heads towards a door in the back of the lab. As he walks, he waves towards one of the dozen or so large cylindrical tubes in this room that have doors on them. It honestly looks like something out of a horror movie, truth be told. Most of his equipment tends to be salvaged or hand-built, after all.

Tracy stands next to one still shivering. "You use these things often or just have them for the ambience?" she asks.

Jason doesn't answer that. He disappears into his private bedroom and once more Tracy is left alone with RIU

The girl tries jumping up and down a bit and doing belly-crunches to generate heat, until she can get out of the wet clothes.

"Do you give your mother this much trouble? Or am I just special?" Jason asks as he returns with a 'fleece' style blanket. He tosses it towards Tracy.

"You think this is trouble?" Tracy says, completely disappearing into the blanket, which eventually disgorges out soggy Spandex, a pair of socks and the running shoes. "I'm sure if any of your frie.. peers knew what was going on, they'd be cheering for you right now."

"Like I said earlier, only two people have ever been close to me," Jason comments as he collapses into one of his rolling chairs and spins himself around slowly. "So what would they cheer on? It's not like anything would happen."

Tracy's head finally emerges from the blanket. At least her hair didn't get soaked. It takes another minute before she's used the blanket to soak up all the remaining dampness. "It'd be revenge on all the pretty girls that ignored them in high school or something," she suggests. "So... Do I just stand in that tube?"

"Yes. Don't mind the tentacles," Jason remarks as he fires up one of his terminals.

"Is that another squid joke?" Tracy says, then takes a deep breath before stepping out of the blanket and into the tube o' doom. "Do I.. hold my arms up or anything?"

The tube itself is empty. No tentacles or other disturbing devices to feel her up are inside. "Just hold still. On the count of three. 1 ... 2 ... " and there's a blinding flash of light! "Three. You can step out now. I'm done. The data is being processed," Jason says.

"That's it?" Tracy asks, and brushes at her skin to see if the outer layer was just vaporized or anything.

"What were you expecting?" Jason asks, his back is turned to her, at least, so she can get back in the blanket without him seeing.

"Lasers, like at the front door," she says, "And having to spread my limbs and stuff." She bundles up in the blanket again, and asks, "Your laundry system isn't homemade is it?"

"Of course it is. Why?" Jason asks. He waves towards the western wall. There are two machines there that look like industrial mixers that have been heavily modified. "As for lasers, that's just for show. Real scanners don't do anything noticeable usually."

Carrying the damp clothing to the indicated wall, Tracy spends exactly thirty seconds studying the machinery before she asks, "Can you show me how to use these?"

"Haven't you done laundry before?" Jason asks. His head shakes and he pushes himself back out of his chair and heads over to Tracy. He opens the machine on the left. "Wet clothing goes in here. You close the door, then turn the dial to mulch and press the button," he explains. "The new labels are on backorder."

Tracy does as directed, looking uncertain the whole time. "If something goes wrong, I'll have to either wear the suit home or some of your clothes. The one at home just has one hopper."

"That sounds very boring," Jason notes. The machine fires to life and ... it is rather loud. But through the small porthole in the door, it does look like it is drying the clothing.

"You don't know what you look like?" Jason asks. "I guess you can. It should just be saved wireframe. I don't go around collecting nude images." So ... he heads back to his desk.

"It's not skinned?" Tracy asks, sounding disappointed. "And while I may be limber, even I don't get to see myself from every angle. What if there's a mole or scar or something I don't know about? But at least I'm glad I depilated this week.."

"I didn't need to know that. Now I'll imagine you as some great hairy beast," Jason remarks as he rolls his eyes. "Also, this is Kimon, my main red-class processor. Kimon, this is Tracy. She is ... mildly crazy," he adds as he gestures towards the robotic fox. he taps on an archaic keyboard and brings up, as he said, a wire-frame model of Tracy, sans clothing, on one of the ancient mist-holo projectors on the desk.

"It's a red-class? Wow.." Tracy says, before being drawn to the wireframe. "This is accurate?" she asks. "Because.. oh, right, they were reacting to the cold. Nevermind. And you can imagine me any way you like, because... I don't have a good comeback. And speaking of which, are you going to let me come back here to visit? I could use this wireframe to build the costume skin on..."

"I can't afford a quantum class," Jason notes. "Now, as for visiting ... I suppose. I guess you'll want to use the holo-modeler to build your costume on the wireframe, then. I'll have to set you up a private terminal, separate from my building network."

The girl bounces a bit, then pauses to get a better grip on the blanket (it's a bit more to handle than a towel, after all). "If you teach me, I can help with you other things," she suggests. "Or do your shopping for you. Make you dinner, sometime?"

"I'm not sure how much I can trust you with my personal projects ... " Jason starts to say. "Oh for the love of ... RIU got in the dryer!" He pushes himself out of the chair then runs for the machine!

"I didn't realize he was in my pants!" Tracy claims, running after Jason, albeit more carefully so she doesn't trip.

Jason slaps the cutoff switch with his hand to shut the machine down. He still has to wait for it to stop spinning before he can open the door, though. "What are you doing?" he chides the little dragon once he can yank the door open!

RIU wobbles out of the machine shedding clothes (which fall back into it) and clings to Jason like a limpet! Breep!

"You ... grr. I can't yell when you give me googly eyes," Jason complains at the clinging dragon.

The miniature dragon makes a peculiar sort of noise, a beep-boop that drops down the register.

Unable to help it, Tracy giggles and covers her mouth with a blanket-clad hand. "Pets are fun, I see," she comments. "What are you going to work on now, while I wait for my clothes to dry?"

"I ... can't tell you," Jason finally says, then sighs. "Which means ... probably nothing. I have projects that are super-secret."

"So.. what do I do then while I wait?" the girl asks. "I can't wash dishes in a blanket."

"Well ... what skills do you have?" Jason finally asks when he seemingly comes up blank. "Can you weld, solder, diagnose failing circuits, or program?"

"I can do VR scaping and sculpting, algorithmic world design.. uh.. if I had my chipware with me, that is," Tracy answers. "Welding and soldering can't be too hard, right, if I have one of those big aprons?"

"Or I could teach you some yoga, or give a demonstration," the girl adds, as a fallback.

Jason rubs his neck. "No, it isn't as easy as wearing an apron," he says. His brow furrows for a few seconds, then he asks, "Would you want to watch some extracted recordings of what actually happened in the diadem? I downloaded 'memories' from RIU some years back."

"Wow, I didn't know anyone could record that stuff!" Tracy says, smiling. Although that smile fades a few notches. "I'm not in them, am I? I mean the other me, Tracer, when she went all AI."

The mini-dragon seems to have recovered. It lifts its head at the mention of its name. Bedoop?

"Okay," Tracy says, trying to sound solemn about it. "Are they vid or VR? Will I feel like I'm RIU?"

"Vid format currently. I don't mess with VR much," Jason admits, "And you don't have to, it was just a suggestion."

"I'm curious," Tracy admits. "I mean, this is stuff that turned my whole life - maybe the whole world - upside down. And my mom won't talk to me about it, but she gets a weird gleam in her eye when I ask."

"It's a lot to watch. you'll only get to see a bit before your clothing is dry," Jason admits, "But it has been cataloged and labeled by event. Kimon, can you take her back to the conference room and bring up our event archives for the Fracture event and its leadup in Arcadia?"

"Understood," the kimono-garbed robot intones. It glides toward the conference room through the kitchen, doors opening silently.

"I guess we'll save that for after dinner sometime," Tracy says, following the kitsune-computer-bot and dragging a lot of fleece behind her.

"I've probably just handed her more nightmare fuel," Jason mutters as he heads back to his work table. "RIU can you fetch me the propulsion band I was working on earlier? I think it ended up in the rafters somewhere. I've almost got the acceleration curve stable. Thanks." Were he a normal guy, he would be after Tracy in a minute ... because, well, naked, and legal, girl in a blanket! She might need someone to hug onto. But no, this doesn't even cross his mind. He's lucky Randall isn't here or he would have been asked to surrender his 'man' card.