Game of Death by David Hosp

feathers?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Killkenny says noncommittally. ‘One of the guys in my unit caught that.’
    ‘I might have some information on it,’ I say hesitantly. ‘Off the record. I mean, it’s possible, but I don’t know for sure.’ All of a sudden, I feel a little
foolish. After all, what do I really know?
    ‘What kind of information?’
    ‘It’s probably nothing, but there is a guy who goes on NextLife pretty regularly. You know how the site works?’
    ‘A little,’ he says. ‘I’m not big into computers, but I get the idea. It’s like all that fake fantasy shit, right?’
    ‘Right. Well, this guy goes on all the time. He’s someone we refer to as a High Use Member – we call them “Hummers”.’
    Killkenny smiles. ‘Nice.’
    ‘Anyway, this guy, this Hummer, he’s got this one LifeScene he created where he’s with this girl – a fake girl, an avatar he created – and he ties her up and teases
her with these feathers.’
    ‘And he lets people watch him?’
    ‘Not really,’ I say. This is where it’s going to get a little dicey. I knew that going into the conversation. I don’t want to say anything that’s going to cause a
problem for the company. ‘It’s a private LifeScene, so it’s one that’s just for him, but we do some research on how people use our system. It’s to gather information
to make the technology better, and offer more things that people would like. Things like that. It’s all harmless.’
    ‘And he knows you’re there?’
    ‘Probably not. But it’s in our Terms of Use, so technically he’s agreed to it.’
    ‘Yeah, in tiny letters at the end of forty pages of legal bullshit,’ Killkenny says skeptically.
    ‘Legally binding bullshit,’ I point out.
    He raises his hands. ‘Like I care? People who want to go online and do freaky shit should know that someone’s watching, always. That’s my view.’
    ‘Yeah, but that’s why this is sensitive. This is all allowed under our Terms of Use, but we still don’t want people to focus on the fact that we’re doing this. It would
cause a major public-relations hassle.’
    ‘Yeah, I get you,’ Killkenny says. ‘Still, it doesn’t sound like much. I mean, feathers are a little different, but not unheard of. It’s probably just a
coincidence.’
    ‘That’s not it,’ I say. ‘He’s got her tied to a chair, and he’s whipping her and then using the feathers, on and off, and when he’s done, he kills
her.’
    ‘Oh,’ Killkenny says. He sips his drink contemplatively. ‘Yeah, that’s a little more interesting,’ he says after a moment. He frowns and goes quiet again,
considering the information. ‘Look, it’s still probably nothing. But I’m happy to pass the guy’s name on to my guy, and he can check the guy out. That’d be the best
thing, just to make sure.’ He takes out a notebook and a pen and looks at me expectantly.
    ‘I don’t know his name,’ I say.
    ‘Can you get it?’
    I shake my head. ‘There’s no way to find it out.’ I can see he looks puzzled. ‘The system’s designed for complete anonymity; that’s one of the things we
offer.’
    ‘I thought you could track anything through computers,’ Killkenny says. ‘You have to be able to find something, right?’
    I shake my head again. ‘When you log on, you are run through a series of dummy servers that hide the IP address. It uses algorithms that even we can’t crack. That’s the point.
People need to know their identities are hidden, particularly with respect to the LifeScene part of the site. I mean, people are also using this for their email and their networking and their
online shopping. Every aspect of their lives is in our system. If someone had the power to put all the pieces together, they could know literally everything about that person. And not just that
person, but everyone they know. You could end up with a complete map of everyone on the system – what they buy, who they know, what they like –