Thief in the Game Page 7

  The gameplay and the fine-tuning resets on the crown controls took several long hours, but all of it was fun and Tag’s enthusiasm held up. The temptation to steal everything in sight was, irresistible, I could see it, but that did nothing to hurt or impede the gameplay.

  At the end of the last feedback tests, Tag and I were both absolutely thrilled by the responsiveness of the kit and I was especially impressed and glad about Tag’s ability to mesh with it. That seemed to me to be a very good sign of things to come.

  I was ready to ask Tag for what I wanted.

  Then Tag asked me, “So, do you have one of these?”

  “A NeuRoCrown?” I hesitated. “No.”

  “If you had one, would you be able to use it?”

  I thought it had all been going too well. It seemed that I knew where this was going. Tag had seen into my secret. Had maybe guessed where all this was going. What I was going to ask.

  And that would be the end of it. I should have known. Something like this was inevitable and I had thought through a dozen, maybe a hundred ways to handle the situation.

  Now that it was coming up, none of them made any sense. I couldn’t even think why I imagined they would. Against all that I had thought and planned, I decided to just be truthful. At least it felt cleaner that way. I said,

  “No. I wouldn’t be able to use one.”

  “You actually live on the web, don’t you. You don’t have a flesh and blood carcass to haul around.”

  “No. That’s right.”

  “That’s supposed to be impossible.”

  “That’s right. But it’s not. It’s just very, very unlikely.”

  “I always dreamed about it. Being able to do that. To be pure data.”

  I kept quiet. I felt this was the time to let Tag come to a decision. I was terrified, but I dealt with it the only way I could. I prepared myslef by assuming the answer would be ‘no.’

  “If I did the thing you wanted me to do, would I be like that?”

  Here it was, and it felt good to be honest with Tag, even though it meant letting go of everything I wished and hoped for. Maybe just for now. Maybe only temporarily. And maybe not.

  “Yes, Tag. My plan is that it would only be for a couple of hours but, for that time, yes. You would be just bits and bytes.”

  “And it’s because you want my body? What do you want to do with it?” then, “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me that. I guess what I should know is, will it be at very much risk? Is it going to get damaged?”

  “No.”

  “And will it be involved in committing any crimes?”

  “No.” I thought, “Well, strictly speaking, yes. One. But it’s not a very serious crime. It’s unlikely to be found out and, even if it were, you’d be unlikely to get the blame. It is a possibility, though. To be truly honest.”

  “And how would you honor the terms? How would it work if something happened to you and you didn’t make it back?”

  “I’ve set up an account. If I didn’t make it back, you’d have notification in a few days. All the juice would be taken care of.”

  Tag went quiet. I looked at all of the readouts, but nothing was happening. The simsuit and the crown were still in place and transmitting but, as far as I could see, Tag was not moving.

  Finally, Tag spoke. “Okay.”

  For a moment I couldn’t take it in. I didn’t trust myself to speak. Then I said, “You’re sure? Because if you are, we could go right ahead and do it tomorrow.”

  “No.” Tag said. “No, let’s do it now.”

  I was speechless.

  Then Tag said, “I still have some conditions.”

  Candle

  TAG’S DATA FROM THE helmet, the gloves and the suit would come together in a stream. The focus of a single point of concentration would be the destination and the energy of Tag, the being inside, the essence, would rush along that stream. That’s how it worked with me.

  Whether I had worked out enough to make it go the other way was the bigger risk. Tag was going to be able to get up onto the net, I was sure of that. And, as long as I could keep Tag’s body from dying, there was a really good chance of making it back the other way.

  In fact, if I could make it successfully into Tag’s body, then the chance of us being able to complete the other way was excellent. So, Tag was fairly safe either way. The biggest risk was that after getting up to the net, Tag would be stuck here. Like I was. But the risk to me was a lot more than that. As well as the danger of not getting a secure backup before the next fragmentation, and that could be at any moment, it could even happen while I was attempting to transfer into Tag’s body, there was the quite considerable risk of me getting broken, shattered, deconstructed and through any one of a zillion possibilities, dead.

  What I chose was an image of a candle flame. Restful with zen-like simplicity, the holographic picture was compelling and easy as a target to concentrate on. I added some soothing waterfall sounds and low chimes to it in a nice 3-D soundscape. Tag tried it and was able to reach a state of meditation quite easily.

  After we’d been through how it was all going to work, we both meditated on the candle. Through the outputs from Tag’s sensors, I looked for the mind image among all of the inputs. Tag looked for the image I set in a secluded grove in a quiet part of a forest in Hope’s.

  I let Tag lead. I remembered the sensations from before and, being so closely connected with the NeuRoCrown output, I watched for it to start. And I waited. Tag’s thoughts appeared first, and with the meditation, they quietened to a hum. Tag visualized the flame at the same time as looking at the hologram.

  The fear that it wasn’t going to work intruded into my meditating state. I relaxed and tried to let it go by. If it took hold, I could miss the connection. It could go without me like a flight or a damned train. Tag would be uploading; Tag’s body would die. Something else would happen to me. I let the thoughts drop away into a pool.

  I focused on the candle flame. Concentrated to distinguish between the hologram in the clearing and the image in Tag’s mind. The one in Tag’s mind had heat. It flashed more smoothly and brightly. The movement began with a lurch. Tag’s consciousness was rushing to the wooded clearing, moving to be close to the candle image. I was missing it. I wasn’t ready.

  As calmly as I could I made an image in my own mind to mirror the one in Tag’s. Compared them. Saw them together. Superimposed them. As they flickered on top of one another, I felt the image in Tag’s head. Looked at it until it became stronger. And let go of the other one. A sensation began.

  It terrified and sickened me. It was a rush. With shaking and nausea. The smell. The air. I was fighting for breath. Choking and convulsing. The band of light disconnection right around my head was unbearable. Too strong and too weak at the same time. I choked. Spluttered. And, shaking, I opened my eyes.

  I was in a place I’d never been. Never seen. I didn’t belong there. My body felt wrong. I had a mantra to try and clam myself as I flooded into the body, this unfamiliar, alien space. Invading as I was. The body was no more comfortable receiving me than I was filing its limbs and thoughts. Feeling the weight of its arms and hands.

  The effort of breath. The unfamiliar rasp of the hot, gritty air made me cough. The stale metallic and oily scents. The weight of breathing in my throat and my chest. The heft of my breasts.

  Wait…

  Body enhancement

  SPLIT INTO TWO PLACES, I was being pulled into Tag’s body, and slipping back, up with Tag into the infranet. I was going to be ripped in half.

  Remember a value. Remember the flame. Something that distinguishes the real from the virtual. But the flame is only an image. On my side at least. For Tag, there’s a flame. For me, only picture. Not Enough to hold onto. It’s too hard to keep straight, the difference between an image in the mind and an image in the body. IS the image in the body? WHERE’S THE FEELING?

  Here’s a picture of a candle flame. Does it make you feel anything? Watch
the flame. Experience whatever it is that you feel about it. Now remember that picture. Think about what it means to you. Try to find a single word. Hold on to the word. Now, follow the thought. Reach for the candle, but only with your mind’s image of your hand. Don’t move your hand, only your thought. Imagine your hand, reaching for the candle, but don’t move your hand. Imagine your hand moving. Don’t move your hand. Reach out in your mind. Don’t engage your body.

  While the flame was becoming steadier, I felt like I was flickering. Then I felt nauseous. Halfway into a body, I could choke. The panic made it worse. But I knew then. Follow the feeling. Without a body, there’s no feeling. Follow the feeling. Even if it’s bad.

  The data from Tag’s helmet surged in a flow. And the suit cooled. The energy rolled like a river finding channels and paths in a new land. The suit indicated deep relaxation and a lowering respiration. I directed my thoughts and my own flow of data, anchored around the image of the candle flame. All of my concentration tunneled and tensed, and I had to try to keep it calm and quiet.

  I had only ever done this once, and it was in the opposite direction. And it ended with my immediate death.

  Was it really going to be possible to go the other way and into someone else’s body? I could just be diving into the abyss. This could be the end, after all this time. As I moved toward the flickering light of the candle flame, I was surprised to realize that I was almost as worried for Tag as I was for myself. And at that moment, I felt the whole spread of my mind begin to divide and tear in two.

  Part of me was flowing to the candle image in Tag’s brain, and half of me had locked onto the image on the net, the one that Tag was following out. I was ripping literally in half. If I stopped now, I could lose the chance. And I might die. But if I went on, I would be split in two as well as probably losing the chance. And I might die.

  Being nervous was making my concentration too hard. Too fierce. There are two candle flames. I know that, but I can’t tell which is which. They look identical. They are identical. One feels like the thing I want to leave, move away from. Pass out of.

  Wait, no, that’s Tag’s feeling. That’s the one the Tag has feeling for. That’s the image in Tag’s head. That’s my destination. I wrap my mind as gently and as tenderly and as completely as I possibly can around that soft flicker. I hold the light and my mind slips down, slips down and dwindles. Into darkness. Cold. Quiet.

  And I know. I know what Tag was telling me. It’s perfect, inevitable and in a way, it’s funny, that could I have completely missed something so basic. So obvious. Tag is a girl.

  ~~

  I’m in a girl’s body. And. Something else.

  I can’t see. And for a moment I can’t move. The suit is heavy. And the helmet is, too. I haven’t felt weight for so very, very long. Before I do anything, I have to keep the helmet on. Check on Tag.

  Tag is ready at the start of the next level of Vulcan’s Finale. She – how did I not guess that Tag was a she? She’s still ninja, but now she’s not wearing the loose sash. At least now I can see why the movement of her hips made such an impression on me.

  I got her attention.

  “You knew that I thought you were a guy,” I’m trying to keep my voice level, “I know that you did.” Tag’s laugh in my ears makes me tingle all over. Even without a word, I know that for the first time, what I’m hearing is her voice. Maybe it’s because it’s so unfamiliar to hear someone laugh, but I feel responses in my thighs as well as my stomach and my chest. Except of course they aren’t really mine. They’re Tag’s.

  “You could have told me.”

  She chuckles again. “Believe it or not, that isn’t what I meant, though,” Her voice sparkles, “The big surprise is yet to come. I hope you can cope.”

  “Tag, I need to work out the process for doing the swap the other way. When I’m done here…”

  “I’m off to deliver serum. Save the world. All that. Talk later.” Her quick burbling snigger is the laugh of a thief. “Take good care of me while I’m away. Or you’re away. Or, you know.” And she was gone.

  Sitting in the simsuit, breathing for the first time in many decades, feeling the unaccustomed weight of a body around me, I knew I should take a few moments to adjust before I took off the crown, the gloves and the simsuit, before I got up. And that’s when I knew.

  Tag is cyberplegic.

  ~~

  Tag’s body has enhancement on three limbs, no, all four limbs, as well as one eye and an ear. She also has neck and spine support and boost. Her right arm is amped up and about half prosthetic. Her left is cyber supported and amped, like her left leg. The inventory lists a cyber skeletal addition to her right leg, and military grade heart support to go with it all.

  All the enhancements are stunning quality. This is like the level of reconstruction a special ops or infiltration warrior might get. An insurgent fighter in forward combat maybe. I don’t understand why she might have this incredible level of CybUps. All of it is grade-A kit. And it’s all practically useless to her.

  The room is nice, but as far as my current meatworld knowledge goes, it’s a pretty regular girl’s bedroom. Lots of cool posters and swag from the nineteen eighties. Nothing here suggests the level of wealth it could take to get fitted up with a cybered up bod like this. Nor to run it.

  Damn, it’s hot, though.

  Oh, ok. So now I’m having inappropriate thoughts about the body that I’m in. This could get weird.

  And there’s the thing that’s not a regular teenage girl’s room. Or boys’s, come to that. There’s no mirror. Being in a body and having no idea what it looks like, this is pretty unsettling.

  And I’m going to have to go out. I have places to be. People to meet. I’ll be having conversations with people and have no clue who they’re talking to.

  Next surprise, just lifting my arms takes an exhausting amount of effort. At this rate, I’ll have to plan out every finger and thumb movement. The power reserve for just about every motor system is at minimal. Even the heart is only at twenty percent. I need to get this body juiced.

  And here’s my next problem. I can order up the juice credits, it will take a moments to authorize, but the only power outlets that I can see in the room are just standard juice supply. To get this body properly charged up needs a way heavier output than that.

  All of this neural enhancement and there’s no fat infranet connection. She can only connect through the box on the desk or via the phone. And, of course, I haven’t got her phone codes. Well, I should have thought to ask, obviously but, now I know that she’s a girl, I know she wouldn’t have given them to me anyway.

  A girl would give you a fight to the death before she’d let you near her phone. She is a true gamer, though. The connection and hardware performance in her desktop machine would make a MilTec covert warrior punch the air and whoop.

  Through the desktop box I get a juice credit ordered up and hunt around the room for a book at least. Then I realize, nope. If she had a book, that would be protected with lock codes the same as her phone. While I was back on the net, I could just peer into all of the devices and get whatever I needed. That’s been so easy all this time that I hardly ever gave a thought to cracking lock codes. UnCert City has a mess of alleys where people make a living out of doing just that but, of course, I never needed any of it it.

  The juice credit comes, after the customary delay for security theater. While I’m waiting I find the juice access account points and I tap around for the residential juice account. Two people are listed for the address, Christa Ryan Fox and Jade Ryan Fox. Christa – Chris. Obviously. And Jade must be her mom. I log an almost obscene wad of credit into their juice and credit accounts. Both of them. Why not?

  Charging up Tag’s body sets it humming in a way that’s both worrying and pleasing. The power connection feeds juice in, but it’s taking forever to charge up. These batteries are mega high-speed, so the whole body should be able to charge up from nothing to full capacity in
an hour or less. From this puny domestic outlet, it’s already been close to twenty minutes and all I’ve got is about five or six percent total.

  I’ve no idea how long I’ve got before I need to swap back and get myself back up to the net, but it can’t be more than a couple of hours and I have a lot to do. I’ll wait until Tag’s up at about ten percent, that should be enough to get around without too much trouble. While I’m out, I’ll see if I can’t spot a juice bar. It seems a shame to be on low power, though. I would love to get this bod humming. It would be good to take her out for a run.

  Other ideas for exercising Tag’s body begin to form and I push them away. Okay, it’s eight percent now. I’ll be mobile. Time to go. I mail my contact at the hospital, check the order and delivery of the kit that I need and I’m ready to head out. I order a cab. Then I pull off the NeuRoCrown. Tag left the box nearby, so I pack it carefully back up with the gloves fitted neatly inside it.

  Standing up still takes more of an effort than I was ready for. I’ve been used to being literally weightless for too long. The feeling of moving in a body is unfamiliar,.I have to pause as soon as I’ve hauled out of the chair. A body has feelings, feelings connect to emotions.

  This is all going to be harder than I was prepared for. The box with the NeuRoCrown and the gloves seems impossibly heavy, and the air feels unfamiliar. It tastes bad, too. There’s a tang of rust and a faint odor of old smoke.

  Stepping out of the room, I’m greeted by a neat and attractive woman in her thirties. Standing close enough to a woman to feel the warmth of her body sets off a whole lot of feelings, it’s been so very long. Then I realize I’m in Tag’s body, getting flustered at the sight of her mom. She’s saying something, but I duck my head and run out the door. That’s normal behavior for a girl her age, I decide. Overlooking the inconvenient fact that I’m not even sure what her age is.

  Tag’s apartment is on the fourteenth floor of an apartment building. The elevator appears not to work. By the time I get down the stairs, the sheer effort of concentration, of coordinating limbs and balance, combined with the physical effort, has left me feeling exhausted.