with the murder of the
girl.’ She sighs heavily and sits up, rubbing her neck as though all her muscles have stiffened. ‘What did you think was going to happen when I told him about this?’ I ask her.
‘You were the one who was so convinced these things were connected. Did you think they wouldn’t look into it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t sure they’d take it seriously. I don’t know that I was taking it seriously, but . . . shit!’
‘Yeah, well, for the moment they appear to be taking it seriously. Are you ready for that?’
She takes a deep breath. ‘Yeah, I guess I am.’
The beeper on my phone goes off, startling both of us. I take a look and see that it is the notification I set up to let me know when
De Sade
logs on to the system. I’m
embarrassed. I set the notification because of the obsession I’d developed over the girl in the LifeScene, and I’m not sure how to explain this to Yvette.
‘What is it?’ she asks.
‘It’s him,’ I say. She looks at me with an expression of confusion. ‘
De Sade
. I set an administrative alert so I’d know when he was getting on the
site.’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘You did?’
‘Yeah, I figured it would make sense, if we were really interested in what was going on with the guy,’ I lie.
‘Oh.’ I can’t tell whether she’s buying it or not. ‘Okay. Well, let’s see what he’s up to.’ I have a full sensory-unit station set up in my
office, though I never use it. There’s something that feels creepy and voyeuristic about trolling around in someone else’s fantasies when you’re in a private place. When I
GhostWalk, I do it at a station out on the floor; it makes it feel more like legitimate business.
‘You want me to GhostWalk his Scene? Now?’
‘Either that or I can,’ she says. ‘Whichever. But if we’re really thinking that he’s connected to a murder and we’re gonna help the cops go after him, then I
think we need to know as much as we can about him.’ She pushes the sensory unit toward me, and I take it reluctantly.
I sit in the comfortable chair by the computer and slip the headset on. It covers my entire face and I can hear my own breathing – like Darth Vader. She hands me the gloves and I slip them
on. ‘Do you want anything else?’ Yvette asks with false lasciviousness. I realize that there is a prototype ‘personal stimulation’ unit on a nearby desk. I’ve never
used it myself, but I helped collect the research for the development.
‘Thanks, I’m good,’ I say. I can hear her grunt a nervous laugh and I’m glad I have the mask on so that she can’t see the blood in my cheeks. I pull the keyboard
onto my lap. The screen on the sensory unit is curved and provides three-dimensional feedback. At the moment a prompt hovers in front of my eyes. I type in my administrator’s code and start a
search for
De Sade
. It takes less than two seconds for the system to access his ongoing LifeScene. Once located, it is highlighted, and two prompts hover below it, one reading OBSERVE and
the other reading INTERVENE. When development on the system began, there was consideration given to whether the company wanted the power to unilaterally join a member’s LifeScene. We decided,
though, that the practice would lead to too many questions, and members would inevitably learn that their fantasies were being observed. As a result, only GhostWalking – where the
administrator is passive, and merely sees and feels what the member is feeling, without any control or possibility that the member will become aware – is permitted. Most of the sensory units
in the lab don’t even have INTERVENE as an option.
I reach out with a finger and tap OBSERVE. Immediately the visual field begins to shimmer, like the scales of a fish on a sunny day. It sparkles and shines, and begins to take shape. I can feel
the sensory pads in the gloves coming to life, and it feels a little like insects crawling over my
girl.’ She sighs heavily and sits up, rubbing her neck as though all her muscles have stiffened. ‘What did you think was going to happen when I told him about this?’ I ask her.
‘You were the one who was so convinced these things were connected. Did you think they wouldn’t look into it?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t sure they’d take it seriously. I don’t know that I was taking it seriously, but . . . shit!’
‘Yeah, well, for the moment they appear to be taking it seriously. Are you ready for that?’
She takes a deep breath. ‘Yeah, I guess I am.’
The beeper on my phone goes off, startling both of us. I take a look and see that it is the notification I set up to let me know when
De Sade
logs on to the system. I’m
embarrassed. I set the notification because of the obsession I’d developed over the girl in the LifeScene, and I’m not sure how to explain this to Yvette.
‘What is it?’ she asks.
‘It’s him,’ I say. She looks at me with an expression of confusion. ‘
De Sade
. I set an administrative alert so I’d know when he was getting on the
site.’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘You did?’
‘Yeah, I figured it would make sense, if we were really interested in what was going on with the guy,’ I lie.
‘Oh.’ I can’t tell whether she’s buying it or not. ‘Okay. Well, let’s see what he’s up to.’ I have a full sensory-unit station set up in my
office, though I never use it. There’s something that feels creepy and voyeuristic about trolling around in someone else’s fantasies when you’re in a private place. When I
GhostWalk, I do it at a station out on the floor; it makes it feel more like legitimate business.
‘You want me to GhostWalk his Scene? Now?’
‘Either that or I can,’ she says. ‘Whichever. But if we’re really thinking that he’s connected to a murder and we’re gonna help the cops go after him, then I
think we need to know as much as we can about him.’ She pushes the sensory unit toward me, and I take it reluctantly.
I sit in the comfortable chair by the computer and slip the headset on. It covers my entire face and I can hear my own breathing – like Darth Vader. She hands me the gloves and I slip them
on. ‘Do you want anything else?’ Yvette asks with false lasciviousness. I realize that there is a prototype ‘personal stimulation’ unit on a nearby desk. I’ve never
used it myself, but I helped collect the research for the development.
‘Thanks, I’m good,’ I say. I can hear her grunt a nervous laugh and I’m glad I have the mask on so that she can’t see the blood in my cheeks. I pull the keyboard
onto my lap. The screen on the sensory unit is curved and provides three-dimensional feedback. At the moment a prompt hovers in front of my eyes. I type in my administrator’s code and start a
search for
De Sade
. It takes less than two seconds for the system to access his ongoing LifeScene. Once located, it is highlighted, and two prompts hover below it, one reading OBSERVE and
the other reading INTERVENE. When development on the system began, there was consideration given to whether the company wanted the power to unilaterally join a member’s LifeScene. We decided,
though, that the practice would lead to too many questions, and members would inevitably learn that their fantasies were being observed. As a result, only GhostWalking – where the
administrator is passive, and merely sees and feels what the member is feeling, without any control or possibility that the member will become aware – is permitted. Most of the sensory units
in the lab don’t even have INTERVENE as an option.
I reach out with a finger and tap OBSERVE. Immediately the visual field begins to shimmer, like the scales of a fish on a sunny day. It sparkles and shines, and begins to take shape. I can feel
the sensory pads in the gloves coming to life, and it feels a little like insects crawling over my
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