With RIU showing Cadena the recordings of the events leading up to the Fracture, there's a few minutes of relative quiet in the lab. Jason works on his suit, and Tracy silently continues her muscle-mapping for a holo-skin.
"Are you that uncomfortable with yourself that you wished you could shapeshift?" Jason finally asks while he's busy soldering a circuit. Either silence with someone else in the room bothers him, or the solder resin is making him loopy enough to actually talk.
"I'm not uncomfortable with myself that much," Tracy notes, pulling back and saving her work so far. "Not anymore. It's other people I have issues with. Hmmm." She glances over at the armored suit, then unloads her wireframes from the display and tries to poke around a bit in the directory it was original stored in. "You've got a scan wireframe of yourself in here, don't you?" she asks. "That's why you had the scanner - you needed the reference for designing that armor, right?"
"Sure do. I had to have something to work off of for the basic exoskeleton and outer skin," Jason answers. He grabs a damp rag and uses it to wipe down his soldering iron. The damp cloth sizzles from the heat. Unfortunately, the directory Tracy is in doesn't have anything other than her own wireframe in it.
Taking off her VR goggles, Tracy turns in her chair to watch Jason work. "So, if it had been Akiko who showed up on your doorstep instead of me, how would you have felt?" she asks in a casual tone.
"Ow!" Jason complains when he slips and lightly burns his fingertip with the soldering iron. He ends up sucking on that finger for a minute while glaring at Tracy. "I would have felt uncomfortable and worried," he answers after pulling his finger out with a small pop. "No one visits me unless they need something. After what she has been through I was hoping she would have a normal life again."
"And that's why you never kept in touch with her or Inari, right?" Tracy asks. "Because your life is dangerous, and that can extend to your friends and acquaintances. I know all about loved ones being used as leverage," Tracy claims. "It's what always ended my relationships. Women like dangerous men - the opposite doesn't hold. Even with the suit issue, I'm probably still in danger from Irongrip anyway, and always will be until my mom retires or changes jobs."
"You're in less physical danger with your mother than with me. People come to me to get things done or undone. This sometimes involves working with people who are ... of questionable morale fiber. Your mother deals with things at a more political level," Jason says. "and yes, that's part of the reason I didn't keep in contact with them. They don't need my problems too."
"But you're worried about them, right?" Tracy asks. "I bet Akiko is worried about Inari's behavior. I'm just surprised that... well, that you didn't give up all this grey-world stuff so you could be with them and not be a danger. Well, not a big danger." She taps her head with a finger at that, implying that the implant is an issue.
"That would have been taking advantage of them," Jason remarks and resumes his work on one of the circuit boards, setting each control wire carefully and solder-pinning it to the pad. "Or at least seemed like it. They had just survived having someone screw with them mentally and physically. Had I done anything ... it would have felt like I was taking advantage of that."
"You could have given them that choice though," Tracy says, turning her chair side-to-side. "I didn't have a choice about being put at risk, but you didn't give them a choice at all. I mean.. of course they needed you - you literally recreated them! Inari wouldn't exist at all without you, you're her father.. and it sounds like she's acting like a girl without a strong father figure, frankly. When are you going to call Akiko?"
"Nothing prevented them from calling me," Jason points out as he thrusts the soldering iron into its holder a bit harder than necessary. As for the answer to when he'll call her, he remains silent on that.
"Do you really still have that kill switch in your head, or have you found a way to disable it?" Tracy asks next, twisting her lips a bit with concern.
"It should be disabled now. Had to hack it to disable it," Jason answers. He looks up, then asks, "Worried I might drop dead at any moment and you having to explain to the police what happened?"
"Well, more the former than the latter," Tracy says. She watches Jason some more, then asks, "Jason, have you ever actually been happy?"
"That's an odd question, isn't it?" Jason non-answers. He flicks off the power to his soldering rig. After he unhooks the board he was working on, he reclines back in the old chair. It creaks in complaint. "Sure. I've been happy. Helping Akiko and Inari escape their prison made me feel better than anything I've ever done, for example."
"What about since then?" Tracy asks, scooting her chair closer. "There must be some reason you choose to live like this, when you could probably create a whole new identity for yourself and get a legitimate position with a security company."
"I have more freedom with my own company," Jason claims. "I can do what I want when I want and I don't have to justify my actions to anyone. Plus, someone has to be the interface to the seedier parts of society in order to make things better, right?"
"Okay, but why stick your neck out for me?" the girl asks, rolling next to Jason's chair. "You could have just turned over the suit and collected the reward towards what I'd owed you for your work. I wonder why Irongrip needs sneaksuits anyway?"
"Because they're not above shakedowns, theft, or frankly, assassinations," Jason says. He spins his chair so he can better look at the teenager. "Would you have preferred that I turn the suit over? Or throw you out?" he asks.
"No, but I'm trying to get a handle on you, Jason Edwards," Tracy says, and taps the man's nose with a fingertip. "You show that you care in ways you hope people won't learn about or notice, it seems. Because, I guess, you don't want anyone to feel they owe you.. because that's like taking advantage, somehow. You aren't used to any sort of relationship where one party isn't trying to screw over the other somehow, are you?"
Jason watches Tracy now with almost stone-cold eyes. "I don't want anyone to mourn me if there's a news story some day I was found face down in the gutter," he admits. "It isn't about taking advantage it's ... I don't want to hurt someone like that. Inari almost died in that last fight with the White. We thought she did for a moment. I've been burned, shocked and worse," he says, then taps his head, "but none of them came close to how much that hurt." He shrugs, then says, "And perhaps there is fear that it's all fake and they will screw me over. I can't explain it better than that. Sorry."
"There will always be someone to mourn you," Tracy claims. "So.. I guess having all the freedom you want is pretty nice then. But it sounds lonely. I don't see why you can't go out with your friends every so often. Even if in disguise! Is this place under surveillance you think?"
"Oh, probably is at some level," Jason says and shrugs. "I do have criminal record, after all. S'why I have white noise generators and the entire building is a faraday cage."
"Can't let those sneak Faradays escape," Tracy notes, nodding her head. She spins her chair around so that she's leaning forward against the back of it. "Do you have any dreams? I mean.. 'this is what I'd like' sort of dreams, not the psychedelic spiders and gumball bushes sort of dreams. Although you probably have those too, right?"
beep! A computer display indicates Jason has an incoming phone call from a Lt. Randall Cranston, CERT.
"Saving the world," Jason drolls. "Oh, wait, I already did that. Other than that, I wish I could ... oh, phone call."
Tracy sticks her tongue out at the computer terminal.
Jason leans way over and flops his hand around until he hits the key to pass the call through. "Bob's Donut hut, where everything is wholesale. You get a lot of dough for a little dough. How may I abuse you today?" he answers the video-call.
"I'd like a bacon doughnut, do you deliver?" replies the unperturbed and actually kind of dashing looking Hispanic officer on the other end of the call.
Tracy can't resist, so comes up behind Jason and drapes her arms over his shoulders, her face pressed cheek-to-check against his. "Hey Randall!" she chirps.
"Sure do. And this week's special is you get your very own wench with it," Jason says without missing a beat. He gestures to Tracy (who is now cheek to cheek with him. "She's almost housebroken. But, I understand you ex-cop types are good with whips..."
Randall has managed to keep his neat trimmed mustache and short beard all these years, but he's lost the captain's hat and pirate jacket in favor of CERT blues, which actually make him look like a responsible officer of the law. He raises an eyebrow. "Oh hey, free wench! Awesome! Anyway, I got your message, I checked it out. The advert goes to a front for a cyberterrorist group, 'Face Reality'. We've been trying to get the goods on them for a while, but..." He leans forward. "They're pretty tough nuts to crack. We tried to get an agent in a while ago, haven't heard from him though. Frankly, I'm worried."
"Oh, them. I recently had a run-in with them all thanks to Wench here. They may claim they just want to wake people up ... but their sites are protected by a red-class computer with ICE defenses. I made it past their first layer, but they were able to lock onto my stream randomizer. I had to link-sever before I ended up lobotomized," Jason says. "It's interesting that they're running a business up in the towers. Rather high-profile for them. I warned the kid who was going there for a job to stay away, but ... hm. RIU might have his bike-registration recorded. I could send it to you later if you want. You might be able to use him as an agent ... but he's a terrible liar."
Randall shakes his head. "If you can warn the kid off, you should. I've got a feeling they're bad news, and if they have a feeling he's leaking information, he's likely to wind up face down in the river."
"Do you want me to try and infiltrate them, then?" Jason half-offers. "I don't have a feeling, I know they're bad news. Their little joke viruses can actually be lethal in certain circumstances."
"It's only one of a bunch of cyberthreats we have to look at, and honestly I'm not sure how high priority they are compared to the rest just yet, or else I'd be happy to take you up on that. Our budget only goes so far," Randall says. "There're the VR is Real crowd - good thing for us their jokes tend to run to nonlethal things like surprise-holograms in public places - and then there're the Meat is Murder fanatics, we just recalled the last batch of blipvert-infested burger packages." He runs down a laundry list. "Any reason Face Reality's on your docket?"
"Hey, how much backing would they need to have defenses like that?" Tracy asks, looking thoughtful.
"Their recent work, a virus called The Emperors New Clothes, almost killed someone," Jason explains as he uses his thumb to point towards Tracy. "I discovered another victim of it and I was trying to erase some rather unflattering pictures of said victim from their site. I'll try again soon, now that I know what to expect." Jason's brow twitches a bit as a thought comes to him. "They don't like things that look like something from virtual reality. Randall ... have there been any recorded threats against Inari? She does look like a fantasy creature ... well, she is one."
Randall answers Tracy, "The machine to run defenses like those isn't that expensive. You can get the civilian version off a small business catalog. The lethal version of defenses is where you're either military or, well, illegal, and if they're cyberterrorists, they're already facing a long list of charges, adding one more's not going to make a difference. Now, the fact they've got a front in a Tower, that suggests they've got some big corporate backing."
"What about.. well, Penny Arcadia herself?" Tracy asks. "She's being trying to file a wrongful death suit against Avatars because her daughter died and was obsessed with the game. I don't know the circumstances of her death though."
"As for threats against Inari, or Penny Arcadia, or anyone else... Well, I wish I could say I knew, but that's beyond CERT's mandate. We're just protecting the Internet and stuff on the Internet," Randall says spreading his hands apologetically. "Inari hasn't called me up with any news of something like that, for what that's worth."
"She keeps in touch with you?" Tracy asks, leaning forward more over Jason's shoulder. "Do you know how to contact her?"
"Well, I haven't heard from her either about anything. I figured if anyone she would have called you," Jason admits, "Or Akiko."
Randall shakes his head. "I gave her my contact in case she ran into any trouble, but... The last time I tried to give her a call, I got some Voya flacky that told me he'd let her know that I called. You'd think they owned her or something!"
"Why do people keep telling me things that make me worry even more?" Jason complains loudly.
"Oh hey, did you catch her last song?" Randall asks. "I thought it was really sweet! Nice change of pace from all the death-rock."
"Last song? No. I ... don't follow her music," Jason admits as he fidgets uncomfortably. "Is it online anywhere?"
"Maybe we should just get concert tickets," Tracy notes, then blinks and slips around sit in Jason's lap, so she can lean forward into the screen. "New song? When did it come out?"
Randall says, "Last week. I've got a subscription. Here, let me..." He tap-tap-taps. A media player box appears, with a button requesting that Jason authorize the one-time N$0.05 charge to Voya's digital rights service.
Tracy scoots over so Jason can reach the screen.
"Oh ... look, they'll give me signing keys. I would never do anything questionable with those," Jason mutters. Still, it is a bit hard to authorize with a crazy teenager in his lap. She moves in just enough time to avoid him making a comment about the size of her butt.
"It's a good thing you didn't call the other day, Randall," Tracy says while waiting and adjusting herself.
Randall raises an eyebrow at Wench.
"There, take my nickel you bloodsuckers," Jason grumbles and approves the amount.
The media player fades to black. A Gregorian chant, crashing beats, the sound of hard boots drumming against a metal deck. Stars appear, then the silhouette of a city. And on a rooftop, a vixen holding a sniper rifle, shadowy, made of night. She raises it, slams a round in place.
"How ... cheery?" Jason squeaks as he slides down a bit in his chair ... and takes Tracy with him.
Tracy sits half-on, half-off Jason's lap now, holding on with an arm around his shoulders, and doesn't say any more as she watches the video.
o Heart of darkness! o she sings, and brings the rifle back down, only now it's a guitar. Her band, Fracture, fades in behind her. o Enthralled by the shadows, kissed by the Devil... o
"This isn't death rock?" Jason mutters. He's not sure which is more disturbing ... this video or the fact Tracy is trying to ... cuddle him.
It goes on in that vein for several minutes, the scene shifting around them to suggest they're part of some demonic army. They are forced to do terrible things, and then their deeds are used against them. The world lies in ruins behind them.
And then suddenly the music goes all quiet, and a ray of light appears. The golden fur of her face gleams. o But even for a sinner like me, there's still a prayer. A tear from heaven, relief from despair. o
The discomfort only grows for Jason. Is this a call for help? An answer to an anonymous message?
The drummer brings his sticks up, spins them in dazzling silver circles, and then brings them down again. And Inari is off again, pumping her guitar, o Heart of darkness! Candle in the shadows, chased by the Devil... o They are rebels against the angels of darkness. Terribly outnumbered, there's no chance they can succeed. But they choose their fate. And one by one, they die, but they die as heroes.
And at the last, Inari raises her guitar, now a sniper rifle again, and levels it at the screen. She squeezes ever so gently... And the screen fades to white.
Randall studies Jason's face, obviously waiting to see how he responds.
"Man, I wonder who does her scenics?" Tracy asks.
The usually hard-edge Jason has seems to melt. His jaw rocks slightly as if words want to come but something prevents them from doing so. "That was about us, wasn't it, Randall?" he finally manages to ask the screen. "But ... we didn't die. It all ended fine, right?"
"Maybe she means it's going to happen again?" Tracy suggests. "A second Fracture? I don't understand it all, but.. the original Avatar's game sort of did become a separate reality right, that you had to split off from ours? And the game now reflects some of what actually happens in that world... maybe. All I know is I don't like to be around my virtual alter-ego there anymore."
"I don't know, but I do know she's been into death-rock for a while. Nihilism, destruction, the world will fall into chaos, that sort of thing. It appears her fan base quite liked that," Randall says. "Some are taking this new song like it's some kind of betrayal. Others say it's a return to how she was in the old days."
"So.." Tracy says, looking from Jason to Randall's screen image. "Ask her what it's about?"
"You can't just call rock stars," Jason says with a sigh. "They have a committee you have to get by."
"So?" Tracy asks, smiling. "Don't they also have white-lists of people they're always willing to see?"
"One I am certain I am not on," Jason remarks dryly.
Randall grins. "Well... I've been thinking about that, and I think there's at least one way to make sure you can see her," he says. "At least if you have the right equipment, which I don't."
"Well, share Officer Cranberries!" Tracy prompts.
"Break into the system and add yourself to the list is one," Jason remarks, "Second would be to apply to be a 'roadie', I hear they're hiring. Third would be to sneak in. Fourth would be to fight in..."
"I bet I could get in as a roadie," Tracy offers. "She wants stunt people? I can do that."
"Voya security is nothing to mess with," Randall cautions. "They don't use lethal measures but they're notoriously tough to crack and even nonlethals will still leave you out cold for a good long while if you miss and they get a blipvert through your screens."
"Like that ever stops me," Jason remarks and rolls his eyes.
Randall continues, "Sneaking in's the route I'd take. Except, instead of sneaking into where she lives, where there'll be tons of static defense, you figure out from her channel where she's going - and then you wait there. Not that there aren't problems with that route!"
"Too bad we didn't have an invisibility cloak or something," Tracy laments, pushing her lips to one side of her face. She seems to express a lot with her lips.
Randall outlines the basics of the Voya security model. "They've got plainclothes security that sweeps the area, does spot checks on everyone and if they think you'll cause drama of the kind they don't want on the Inari show, they usher you out of the way. With stunners if they have to. Beyond that, if you want to have a private conversation, there're cameras watching her 24/7."
Jason smacks the back of Tracy's head. "I might consider doing that. It's a good thing I still have that old bullet proof vest. Not that it will stop a sniper rifle ..." he muses. "As for cameras, bah. RIU could short those out, easy. Or I hack them and get them to play a generic loop."
"Half the people wherever she goes are paid to follow scripts," the CERT officer says half-disbelievingly, half warning. "Media stars like Inari are big news and everyone wants even a bit piece. They think you're horning in on their action, they'll swarm you themselves."
Rubbing the back of her head, Tracy points out, "Can't RIU just fly in, invisibly, and deliver a message to Inari directly?"
"A written one maybe. He can't speak," Jason reminds Tracy.
Randall adds, "Of course, this is purely hypothetical and I am in no way condoning a violation of any laws. I'm just outlining the difficulties someone might have, were they sufficiently motivated to try and get through to Inari in some way."
"Or on a chip," Tracy suggests. "Something small the cameras might miss just showing up, especially if it appears in Inari's lap. Or RIU could catch her in the shower or someplace they won't have cameras. I mean, even you don't have cameras in the bathroom."
"Of course you aren't. You've never broken any yourself, Capt'n," Jason retorts. "I'll look up her tour dates and see where she's going. Maybe I'll look her up."
"Do you know if she talks to Akiko though, Randall?" Tracy asks. "If anyone could get a message to her, I'd think it'd be her Siamese twin."
The Hispanic internet police officer shakes his head. "Akiko has..." He waves a hand, trying to grasp the right way to put it. "Issues with Inari. Self-confidence issues. I try not to mention her, and she seems happier that way."
"Are you dating her?" Tracy asks, with raised eyebrows.
"She's nosy," Jason remarks. "Too nosy sometimes."
"Me? No, no," Randall says, laughing. "She's made it very clear she's trying to be independent. Do for herself, show she doesn't need to rely on an Avatar like Inari used to be, or a big strong man like me..." He flexes. "To protect her. But there is a cute new intern who joined up recently."
"Anyway, I'll send you what we have on Face Reality. Was there anything else you wanted to know?" asks Randall.
Tracy sticks her tongue out. "So Akiko doesn't talk to you just to have someone who knows what she went through to talk to?"
"Hey, I don't kiss and tell," Randall says with a wink. "Or tell, even without the kiss."
"Have they done anything more serious than pranks, for one. Two, is there any pattern? Have you plotted out what individuals have been targeted? Or specific product lines? I don't buy they're just 'in it' for the thrill," Jason suggests. "Also, look for any connections to Irongrip. It's just a gut feeling."
"Their threat profile's definitely escalating," Randall says. "It used to be they just defaced websites, but they've been spreading out. Stuff like the Emperor's New Clothes, but also spreading fake links to try and divert people's VR connections to mousetrap realities, and sabotaging holodisplays to burn out in the real world."
"I'll be sure to check my interface at home," Tracy notes.
Randall continues, "They've been very good at avoiding a consistent pattern. Their attacks are worldwide, but that doesn't mean much, you can set a delayed timer on a program as easily as I."
"And you don't have enough budget to deal with them? Seriously?" Jason asks as his own brow arches up at that. "Don't think for a moment I won't send CERT a bill if I uncover anything," he comments and waggles his finger at the display.
"Irongrip? That sounds familiar somehow," Randall says.
"Vivius Irons. Left Avatar LLC, started his own company," Jason reminds.
The CERT officer frowns. "That could be bad news."
"Everything is bad news. If it claims to be good news, it's just lying," Jason notes.
"He always seemed like a bloodthirsty guy, I couldn't believe they'd make someone like him a head of security at Avatars," Randall says bluntly. "Shoot first, ask questions after, that's the way they raise them in the Empire."
"Anyway, it's past my shift, so anything else?" Randall asks.
"Yes. When will you shave off that ridiculous mustache? The next time you visit my office I'm trying you to a chair and getting the clippers," Jason answers. "Have a good night, Randall. I'll call you if I uncover anything useful."
tying...
Randall laughs. "Over and out! And remember that bacon doughnut!"
As soon as the connection goes blank, Tracy sits up in Jason's lap and turns towards him. "Does it seem suspicious to you that Randall didn't even blink at seeing me here?" she asks.
"Not really?" Jason remarks and shrugs. "You don't think I didn't run background checks on you after you invaded my home? And why are you sitting in my lap?"
"So that's how he knew I was here, and not from some spy camera he has set up across the street to keep watching on your comings and goings?" Tracy asks, looking.. moderately relieved. She does get up out Jason's lap though. "What was in the background check? Anything from my school record?"
"He knows better than to spy on me. The last time he tried that he ended up with a month's worth of video footage from St. John's Nudist Colony for the Morbidly Obese," Jason says with a smirk. "As for what was in your background check, well ... that's secret. I need blackmail material, after all."
"Hah, right," Tracy says, looking dubious. "Probably just the stuff about being under police protection after the house fire." She returns to the workstation and says, "I'm ready to test the first skin now. Where'd you stash the suit?"
"I'll let you think that. It's more fun that way," Jason remarks. He waves from his chair towards one of the old lockers along the northern wall. "First locker on the right, the combination is 3-3-3. Half of the Beast."
"What's the other half?" Tracy asks, unable to help herself as she goes to the locker to retrieve the sneaksuit.
"You," Jason deadpans.
"Do I frighten you, Mr. Edwards?" the girl asks, holding the limp gray suit up against her front and waving one of the empty sleeves at Jason.
"Nope," Jason says, "Don't forget I've had that suit for a while. I might have modified it for my safety..."
"So long as it's charged and still working," Tracy says as she brings it back to the workstation, then tries to find the data port on it. "How do I do the skin transfer?" she finally asks.
"Access panel on the right arm," Jason comments as he spins his chair slowly around. "Plug the fibre-link into the port under it, then bring up the control display and copy the file over."
Tracy takes her time, making sure the connectors are seated properly, then bringing up the control panel on the left sleeve. It's a bit awkward when the suit is unoccupied, but she does get it transferred. "Okay, it's not giving any errors," she announces. Then she kicks off her shoes and starts unbuttoning her blouse. "I'm wearing compatible underwear this time," she says.
That doesn't encourage Jason enough to turn towards Tracy. He makes sure his chair faces away. "If you don't mind, I won't exactly trust that. You'll somehow manage to embarrass yourself. Or try to mess with me," he comments and waves his hand over the back of his chair.
"Second Skin wrinkle and crease-free black bandeau and matching panties," Tracy says, supposedly to put Jason at ease. "Skin tight and broke my budget, but they are comfy," she notes as she wiggles into the suit, then seals up the front and 'assumes the position' so it can contract to its skin-tight operational mode. "I bet you wear old polyester boxers with holes in them. And as for embarrassing.. that's your job: you have to give me a challenge, since I gave you one last time."
"In other words, you bought fetishwear," Jason notes as he laughs. "A new generation of latex underwear. Your mother would lock you in a closet if she knew. As for what I wear ... that's something you'll never knew! You're too young."
"So, you'll show me when I'm 21 then?" Tracy asks, coming around in front of Jason. She appears to be wearing a copper-brown leather midriff-baring corset and matching painted-on leather pants - both of which seem to consist of at least 25% belts and brass buckles for some reason. Black leather boots and fingerless gloves complete the clothes, while her eyes appear to be yellow and cat-slit and her hair.. is gone. There's just a fuzzy blackness where it should be. "I don't have my wig or trenchcoat or steam-pistol.. you'll have to imagine those," she says.
"Very neo-goth," Jason remarks as he nods his head once, "With a touch of hare-khrishna baldness, and mutant eyes." He leans sideways a bit and props his head up with his hand. "Why can't you be happy with how you look normally? You're not hideous or anything..."
"Do you not grasp the concept of a costume?" Tracy asks, and turns around slowly. "Do you see any clipping errors? This is for a game convention, remember? So I can have a costume that shapeshifts - once I get that skin finished."
"I don't feel the urge to hide in a costume," Jason claims and waves his hand. He sits upright again and leans forward to get a closer look. "It shows too much skin and curves," he observes, "Too ... sexy... And your left butt-cheek looks slightly larger than the right. The skin reflection isn't uniform."
"Rats," Tracy complains. "I was afraid I'd have to resort to wearing real clothes over it, but then I'd have to give up the cool leg trick." She looks at the left arm, whatever display she sees being projected by the suit's face-veil. She does something.. and vanishes.
"Cool leg trick?" Jason asks. He doesn't even twitch when Tracy vanishes. "I think you turned off the projectors, because nothing is showing now."
"Stealth mode," Tracy's disembodied voice says. "This is pretty weird. If not for the virtual outline I wouldn't know where my hands and feet are. Did you hack the suit so you could see through it's microcameras?"
"No, but if you connect in the fibre-cable from my system again I could access it," Jason suggests. He grabs an old yard stick leaning against his work table and waves it around near him to see if he whacks Tracy.
"Hey!" the voice goes, from a few feet more distant. "Wow, the springheels work. What's the point if you have to be plugged in? You need to do it through your implant, so you can see all around wherever I am and guide me. Wait.. did you mess with the battery?"
"I haven't made a portable link yet. I've been busy. Cut me some slack," Jason grumbles. "And no, I haven't messed with the battery. Why?"
The suit reappears, a gray humanoid until Tracy pulls the veil and hood back. "It's like half empty already," she notes while shaking her hair out. "Just after a few minutes of use! There must be an auxiliary power cell pack that goes with it or something.."
"High resolution holo-projection requires a lot of power," Jason points out. "Might be modifiable with axillary packs or through induction charging as long as you're relatively near a power source."
The girl sighs. "The non-military version lasts a lot longer, but I still need a permit for that," she notes, looking upset. "All this trouble, and not only can't I keep it - it's not even practical for what I wanted." She unseals it and starts wiggling out. "I didn't even get the skin right," she mutters.
Jason spins himself back around to look away as Tracy removes the suit. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty enough to try and modify the suit for you?" he asks. "And do you want to try and get the comparable one through the, ah, black market? How much money do you have, because it is going to cost around $1000 and I can't foot all of that."
"I guess an un-registered one is more expensive," Tracy notes. "If we turn this one in for $500.. I could probably come up with the rest. I could come up with some practical use for it." She sets the suit back on workstation, then walks over to Jason. "But first.. is my left butt-cheek bigger? Maybe it's the panties.."
Jason tests this by grabbing both of Tracy's butt-cheeks. "Hmm," hre remarks, then graps a rather large pair of calipers from his work table and measures. "Nope, it isn't," he claims, "The skinning was just off. Less gloss on one than the other."
Tracy is frozen solid, her fingers and toes splayed out. "Ah.. good to know," she finally mutters, and walks back to where she left her clothes. "Have you come up with a challenge for me yet?"
"Haven't really thought about it," Jason admits as he spins his chair around again."I could challenge you to find a sane boyfriend," he offers...
"Hmmm," Tracy notes, then sets her pants back down and begins to do some yoga exercises to work off the muscle tension and improve her mood a bit. "It can't be an impossible task, according to the rules. What do you think Randall suspects about us?"
"That is hardly an impossible task," Jason points out. "He'll also think nothing once I explain to him you're insane and seem to delight in tormenting me."
"You don't understand," Tracy says, as she sits on the floor and folds her legs into a lotus position. "All of my previous boyfriends were sane. That's why they never stuck around. A sane person avoids danger." She focuses on her breathing exercises then, trying to exhale her tension and disappointment with each breath.
"You could try avoiding danger. It might be a novel and new experience," Jason notes as she spins back around, slumps back over, and grins. He eyes the folded up suit next, and hmms. "You know, I could modify that so that I could get a feed from it ... then once it is returned we would know what was going on inside Irongrip."
"That could be worth doing then, if it's untraceable," Tracy says, her eyes closed as she relaxes. "I can't really avoid being a target. I think having a talking guard dog really underscores that point. You can teach me how to get out of locked rooms or handcuffs and stuff, can't you?"
"Oh the comments I could make about you and handcuffs," Jason quips. "And of course I can. Those are pretty easy."
The girl opens her eyes again, and gives Jason an odd look. "What about me and handcuffs?" she asks. "So you'll teach me?"
"I think you can figure it out. The handcuffs, I mean," Jason notes and shrugs. "And sure, I suppose I can teach you so long as you promise to behave."
Tracy unfolds, but instead of standing up, she flips over so she can walk on her hands over to Jason. "Actually, I don't know. You can't possibly be having naughty thoughts about me, after all."
"I can't? I could be imagining handcuffing you you a bus and sending you on a long trip," Jason points out.
"See, I wouldn't have thought of that," Tracy remarks as she flips back upright, and finally starts putting her clothes back on now that she's done with her yoga.
"Or I could handcuff you to your dog," Jason remarks. "A girl and her dog; a tale of post-apocalyptic oddness. Hm, no, been done."
"I thought 'hands behind the back' was the standard," Tracy notes, buttoning up. "Unless they use slap-straps or zip cords."
"For you it's feet behind the ears," Jason quips, bemused.
"I didn't know you were that kinky," Tracy quips, and flutters her eyelashes at Jason as she gets her shoes back on. "There, nothing too 'sexy' showing now, so you should be happy."
"I'm never happy," Jason comments as he licks the floor and sends his wheeled chair sliding across the floor back to his desk. He flips the monitor back on and goes to bring up Inari's 'MyUniverse' page to check for the next concert date ... and to see if anyone commented/replied to a note he left there.
licks -> kicks
Tracy decides to be helpful by.. collecting her chipware from the workstation. Then she stands behind Jason's chair and kneads his shoulders. "If you can't be happy, at least be comfortable."
There are 277 replies. Mostly from fans wondering if Inari had been involved in some kind of air car accident in her mysterious past, and who the anonymous person is. Other fans are accusing the anonymous commenter of being some kind of "troll", or making it up out of sheer randomness.
"Whomever this commenter is," one informed-seeming fellow says. "He clearly struck a nerve, because Inari seems to have used this 'heart of darkness' concept in her newest song. Good thing she's protected against idea-theft accusations by the TOS, huh?"
"LOL she probably wuz gonna do that anyway," another fan says.
And so it goes.
Jason looks ... moderately amused by all the replies. His fingers slide over the keys, pondering adding another comment, just to fuel the fire a bit more. Of course before he does that he has to make sure it appears as anonymous. So ... he starts tapping to set up another anonymous comment route to the site.
"Ooo, you're popular!" Tracy notes, watching what Jason does. "Are you going to steal all the credit card info of the repliers?"
"Do you remember the moment in between; the threshold between worlds? We had a choice that day: To stay in the world of dreams or to escape. To sever the bonds that held all of us, but you most of all. I was terrified that day. Not for myself, but for you. To escape meant walking away from all you knew and into the unknown. To fail meant remaining trapped forever. We succeeded and you chose. When the chains fell, you walked through that door with all of us. I am so glad you came with us ... and I cannot express how sorry I am that I have not been there enough for you. I have not forgotten you; and I hope some day you will forgive me for failing you," Jason types out. His fingers linger over the send button for over a minute. It's funny how keys sound so loud sometimes when a choice is made. His finger descends and with a click, the message is posted. "Go ahead, make some remark," he tells Tracy in a quieter voice as his head tilts down and to the side so that he's looking back up at he
at her
"Do you write poetry?" Tracy asks. "You should try if you haven't," she urges, and gives his shoulders a squeeze.
"Bah. I built stuff and annoy people," Jason remarks. "That's all I'm good at."
"Poetry is all about structure and annoyance," Tracy claims. "Think she'll take the bait this time? I mean, it couldn't be more clear that you wrote this one."
"She knows I wrote the last one," Jason says as he flips away from the comment page and onto the 'scheduled appearances' page.
"Appearing soon, LIVE and UNEDITED, Inari in Festival of Fools, a hitlist of all rock media's greatest living performers! December 21, from noon to 9 AM. Food! Music! And a presentation of cultural treasures from all over the world, just in time to find a perfect gift for that special someone in your life..." The webpage gives a variety of links. It'll apparently be held in the outdoors in the rebuilt New Times Square, in New York City.
"Festival of Fools? That doesn't exactly sound inviting," Jason mutters as he writes down the date and time. "And a bit of a distance. I'm not sure I can get the suit that far. Hm."
"Get it that far?" Tracy asks. "Hello.. hotels? Make a reservation now for before the event, and there'll be time to set up and a base of operations."
"It's not that easy. How do I move that," Jason says and waves towards his nearly complete armored suit. "Without being seen."
"Well," Tracy says, looking at the suit, and wondering why Jason would want to bring it - what's he planning? "Is it waterproof?"
"Haven't tried. Theoretically is," Jason says.
Ding! Kimon reports, "You have video email."
"Video e-mail? Who is mailing me?" Jason has to wonder. "Kimon, play mail on monitor three."
The video email is from 'Your Friend in the Gloaming'; the thumbnail image shows a cheerful-looking werewolf waving a massive paw, his other hand holding up the camera.
"Hey, friend, I wanted to thank you for getting me up in the air," the werewolf says. His voice is thin and high, belying his huge chest, but it's recognizable as Mike's. Behind him is a standard indoor mall bakery, Duamutef's Donuts. "I got the job! It's totally sweet, they've got us playing video games. The only downer of it is that they keep reminding us it's a game every 15-20 minutes. Well, I guess the idea is, know your enemy, don't fall into the trap they do."
"Sewers," Tracy mutters. "New York has miles and miles of sewers.. Is that the kid from earlier? What's that about know your enemy?"
"Oh now he just looks silly. Who wants to be a werewolf?" Jason has to ask and waves at the screen. "And games, indeed. He's working for Face Reality now, the ones who hacked that skin on your suit. They're up to something with that game. You might want to reconsider playing it."
Mike continues, "So, the idea is that we're going to stage some in-Gloaming demonstrations. Annoy the players, get Face Reality some face time-- har, see what I did there?-- and shake things up. Reason they need hackers is 'cause that way we can deal with any anachrony monitors that pop up. They gave us some sweet macros, so we can hack 'em right in-game. S'how I'm getting this message out, I piggybacked it into their player message system. Game thinks I'm just messaging my bratty li'l brother." He grins.
"Anyway, if you need to get a message back to me, they're trying to keep us incommunicado, I guess so we don't leak their plans or something, but they don't know my bro Adam plays. He can get a line to me. Over and out!" A contact address appears at the bottom of the scren.
Kimon says, "Message ends."
Jason rubs his forehead with his right thumb. "It's not going to be that simple or easy, Mike. They're up to more than just that. They have heavy corporate backing ... and Randall did say it's likely you'll end up floating in a river. Dammit, why do kids never listen?" he remarks and glares at Tracy. PArticularly towards the latter part of his statement.
"Ahh.. geez!" Tracy fumes, digging her fingers into Jason's shoulders. "Can't I have one fun activity that isn't getting spoiled by some freaky event?"
"Ow," Jason complains.
The mechanical kitsune replies to Tracy, "No."
"Oh!" the girl says, easing her grip and going back to gentle rubbing. "Sorry, I don't my own strength sometimes. I should warn the Admins about this stuff... if I can figure out how to do it without seeming like I'm actually involved.."
"No. Stay out of it. You want a fun normal time, then don't get involved with this," Jason points out, exasperated. "Plus, if you say anything, you likely endanger all of them."
"This is world you live in is incredibly frustrating, you know that?" Tracy says. "No wonder you're so repressed! I mean, you could have gotten the data on my butt from the wireframe scan.."
"That wasn't what you wanted. You were trying to tease me and I refused to take the bait," Jason points out.
"I didn't think you'd grab me," Tracy mutters. "Flirting isn't as much fun when your target actually does stuff. Anyway, what's the plan you're cooking up for the concert? Or just gonna wait and see if Inari replies to your comment? I mean, if she doesn't, then maybe she's not involved with the site at all or not allowed to respond or something! Mind control.. that would explain a lot.."
"She won't respond on the site. I'll have to look into hotels and such. It won't happen today," Jason remarks. "I have to contact Desoto, find my bullet proof vest and that Mk2 police gun I have ... then go deal with your suit. You are going to seriously owe me."
"Police gun?" Tracy asks, letting go of Jason's shoulders. "You can get stuff like that?"
"What? You can carry anything. Legality is another matter," Jason notes, "But yes, it is. I have a permit and it's keyed properly to me."
"So could you get a permit for a sub-military sneaksuit too?" Tracy asks, leaning in closer and smiling her cutest smile.
"No idea," Jason admits. "Maybe. And those smiles don't work on me, you know."
"If they did, I wouldn't use them," Tracy says perkily. "Do you want me to fix you anything for dinner?"
"Filet Mignon, rare, garlic mashed potatoes, carmelized carrots, and a nice port," Jason suggests.
"Do you have the ingredients for all that, at least?" Tracy asks. "Or is this my challenge?"
"I'm lucky if I have frozen pizza in the fridge. I'll probably order takeout, then scare the delivery guy with Kimon or RIU later. Why are you looking at me like that? It's a hobby! A lame one, but I have to find amusement somewhere," Jason notes and shakes his head. "So, no, it isn't. When I think of something, I'll be sure to tell you after it has started. Don't worry..."
Tracy gives Jason one of her odd, lips-pushed-to-the-side looks.. then leans in and kisses him on the mouth! "You're weird," she notes afterwards. "And that was because you have to get to first base before fondling me. This way it won't be so weird when you do it again. And I couldn't have gotten the port.. but I'll figure out how to make the rest. I do have a kitchen of my own, after all."
"Kimon, bring the mouthwash," Jason complains after a long bout of mock-gagging. "... and maybe a taser."