have kept running. The road was clear and he had a head start. He carried no weapon that I knew of. He closed his eyes.
I was Alex. Jana would be worried. Did I turn the medical form in? No. I have to go back and turn it in. But the staring man, the aliens, the Vantu, the Primary ... Muna. I shook my head. For a second I had become Alex again.
“That was too close,” the staring man said, shaking his head. “I’ve never had any guards come this close before. Glad this is the last drop.” He squinted and looked me up and down. “If it weren’t for the fact that I couldn’t pull your veil, I’d swear you’re one of them.” He handed me a sheet of paper folded in quarters. “Here’s the virus data. You know what to do.” He sat down with his back against the wall and closed his eyes. I looked around. It wasn’t a busy street by city standards, but the only people sitting on the sidewalk were winos and the homeless.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“What are you waiting for,” he snapped. “Go. Memorize it, make it, spread it.”
“What about you?”
His next words were difficult to understand. The plexus interface used in simulation had a direct connection to my visual cortex. It bypassed language centers in the brain by using word-pictures fed to the visual cortex. It wasn’t perfect. The staring man’s response was so heavily steeped in Harshan expletives and abstract concepts that I only had the barest sense of its meaning. The plexus translator garbled his words, which came out something like: “Why does last one have to be such an idiot?” Then more clearly he directed his speech to me, his words slow and deliberate. “I have to leave this server. My cover is blown. And don’t think because you’re in here as a user they won’t come after you too. They’ll figure it out. Memorize the virus quickly and get out.”
I glanced at the paper. Memorize it? I guess I had to. It could be the proof that National Security needed. I couldn’t take it with me when I came out of the simulation. It wasn’t real.
I looked back at the staring man, and he was asleep. Stooping down, I shook his shoulder. “Hey,” I said, “what is the virus supposed to do?”
The man stirred, and when he spoke, I reeled back from the stale stench of alcohol. “Gotta get mer finisa,” he mumbled. With one half-opened, dreamy, bloodshot and watery eye, he realized someone stood before him. This was not the man I just spoke with. He looked the same except for the eyes, and the stench was new. I backed off as he held out a trembling hand, tough and chapped. He coughed and give his best smile with the few teeth he had remaining. “Some spare change for a veteran down on his luck?”
I fished out a few coins. This man just had his mind hijacked -- what was left of it. But, no. He was not real, I had to remind myself. This was a computer-generated simulation. So I gave him simulated money so he could buy some simulated booze and get virtually drunk.
On the wall behind him were the words Quick Wok Restaurant painted in large, stylish letters. The windowless cinderblock wall abutted the sidewalk and I stood in its afternoon shadow. Looking around, I figured that it was not the best place to memorize this virus paper. I wasn’t sure if it made a difference or not -- who would be watching? God, what should I do? Take the time to memorize it? What if the staring man injured Muna and the others he pulled their veils. Not likely, and if I pulled out now, what would happen to the paper? It was part of the simulation now. Wouldn’t Doctor D be able to download the computer code that the virus paper was made from and then send that code to National Security? Or would the paper be deleted when I pulled out, just as the wino’s watery eyes replaced the staring man’s clear ones? I had no way of knowing and I couldn’t ask the Doctor.
With no other choice but to find a place to memorize what was on the paper, I rounded the corner and entered the front of the restaurant. It was a narrow strip of a building with plate glass running along the sunny side, a counter with the typical fare behind glass, and air heavy with grease and spices. I took a tray, ordered the daily special, and sat down on one of three tables, which was hot to the touch in the glaring sunlight.
My hands trembled as I unfolded the paper for the first time. Single-spaced typed text and chemical diagrams filled half the page. Only half a page: that gave me hope that I could memorize it. Hope faded when I read several unfamiliar words such as ‘Toxoplasma gondii.’ Was this a computer virus or a real one? Was it a codeword for something else? I looked at my watch. How long did I have to memorize it? Was there some sort of timer associated with the paper I held and would it disappear after five minutes? Would the staring man or one of his accomplices figure out I wasn’t their contact, return, and somehow kill me? Either way, I would have to try to memorize it as quickly as possible. If something threatened me, all I had to do was to say, “Doctor D pull out.” I took a deep breath and started.
Scene 10
I had completed the daily special meal and the sun had set behind an adjacent building. Business had been light, so I didn’t feel the need to vacate my seat. Still, I had not totally memorized the page. It was not a formula as much as it was a procedure: how to modify a something named T. gondii. I continued to forget three sections. I practiced writing the diagram on napkins just in case the virus paper disappeared. They littered the table and I started on a new one when he sat down in front of me. It was the staring man, clear-eyed and smelling fresh. He did not look happy.
I started saying, “Doctor pull...” when I wondered why I was having lunch with the staring man. Jana would be worried. I should get home before that government witch Muna shows up. Muna. I blinked. I am Tenbu, not Alex.
“I don’t know how you do it or who you are,” the staring man said. He snatched the paper from my fingers. “But this is mine.” He looked at what was written on the napkins and his eyes widened. He dropped the paper and grabbed the handgun on the table. Handgun? Where did that come from? It wouldn’t work, would it? Was he bluffing?
“Doctor D, pull out!” The move was instantaneous. I saw nothing but heard everything as the sound faded. Screams from the restaurant, a loud bang, and the familiar voices of Muna, Damisi, Haji, and Doctor D.
Scene 11
Time had no meaning. The voices, restaurant noises, and screams all jostled for their place in a timeline. My vision cleared. I sat up abruptly and checked myself for gunshot holes. None. Muna hugged me.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she sobbed.
“Yeah,” I answered trying to breathe, “warning to all: don’t eat at the Quick Wok.”
“What did you find out?” Doctor asked. “We lost contact once the staring man threw the others out.”
“Did you record my memories?” I asked.
Doctor shook his head. “No. We totally lost you. There’s no record. I’m glad I had a macro set to pull you out, otherwise you’d still be in there.”
“I would be dead in there.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Hand me my pad,” I said, “please. And don’t ask any questions.” Haji handed me my notepad. The screen was already up. I pressed the record icon and recited the memorized text about Toxoplasma gondii. As soon as I stopped talking they started asking questions, but I held them off. It took less than two minutes for me to scribble down the procedure on my pad. Not wasting a minute, I sent it to the National Security link for bot B911. This time National Security responded immediately.
Even before the bot’s image appeared, I blurted out, “Believe me now?” I was going to add, I just sent you the virus description. If I’m nuts, it won’t make sense, but stopped. It wasn’t the bot’s image that appeared, but the uniformed man with his patriotic music and subtext. “Thank you for helping the Vantu Republic in their effort to make our land secure,” the recorded message said. “You will be contacted if we have any further questions.” This time they cut the transmission.
“Nice,” Haji said.
“Is that it?” I asked the blank screen. “Career and life on the line for a recorded message?”
“Did they even
take it seriously?” Muna asked.
“How do I know?” I snapped. She looked hurt. I waited until she looked into my eyes. “Sorry,” I said.
“That’s OK, we’re all in this together.”
“We might hear something in the news, I guess,” Haji said.
“Maybe,” Damisi said. “You can email them. You have the bot’s link.”
I looked at her blankly. “Email a bot? Are you serious?”
“I’m just saying.”
“It’s bureaucracy, Tenbu,” Doctor D said with a sigh. “I see it everywhere.” He slapped me on the back. “We did our best. Don’t worry about it. Wait for the system to do its thing.” He turned off the plexus beds. “Come on. We should probably get out of here before someone investigates. We’ve been really lucky.”
We shuffled out of the room: has-been wannabe heroes.
“I don’t know about you,” Doctor D said. “But I’ve got to get back to my lab.”
I watched him walk down the hall. Muna put her hand on my shoulder. “How ‘bout we go to the library. There’s the calc midterm we should study for and we can use their matrix boards.” Everyone agreed.
Scene 12
Unfortunately not all things can be learned through the plexus simulation beds. Some learning just had to be done the old fashioned way. The library’s fifteen floors contained study