Synners by Pat Cadigan Page A
Authors: Pat Cadigan
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Suspense, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Contemporary, Virtual reality, Computer Hackers
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She looked around at the ward. "If Jimmy's in one of these beds, the best thing we can do is yank his cable and say kaddish before we beat it out of here."
Far down at the other end of the room, the silhouette of a man appeared. "Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!" The man started to run for it when another red beam speared the length of the ward and impaled him. He fell backwards.
A moment later Caritha materialized at Gabe's elbow, hefting the cam. "Did I mention I made some other modifications to your hardware? Hope you don't mind too much."
"Why did you come down the chute?" he asked incredulously.
"Last thing they'd expect," she said, winking at him. "Find Jimmy? I hope not."
"Haven't looked," Marly said. "Come on." They hurried through the ward, Caritha scanning the beds with the cam. Gabe marveled. It had originally been a simple record/playback holo projector until she'd gone to work on it; now it was the Swiss Army knife of handcams. She had the same easy genius for hardware that Sam did.
He felt himself flushing guiltily at the thought of his daughter, but there was no time to dwell on that; they had reached the end of the ward. He spotted three vacant beds, and then Marly was shoving him after Caritha into what looked like an elevator. Doors snapped shut behind them. Marly was still searching for a control panel when the floor tilted and spilled them out through the back wall. "Uh-oh," said Caritha in a low voice.
They were looking not into another room but down a long, dark alley strewn with garbage and the shattered remnants of unfathomable machine parts.
"This must be where all the bad machines go to be punished," Marly said. She pulled into a crouch, poised to strike out.
"Can you bust it up, show us where we really are?" Gabe asked Caritha.
"It's worse than you think," Caritha said. She thumbed a switch on the cam, and a bright circle of light appeared on a filthy wall. A moment later the words came up in poison green, precise and annoying:
TIME: 10.30 A.M. MEETING: 11:15 A.M., NEW MONTHLY
ASSIGNMENTS !!REMINDER!! LUNCH TOMORROW: 12:30 P.M.
W/MANNY RIVERA, PROBABLY RE QUOTA ELAPSED TIME: 24 MINUTES, CREDITED TO
GILDING BODYSHIELDS
DISCONNECT: Y/N?
Gabe groaned.
"Rotten break, hotwire," Marly said, and then grinned at him. "Or is it?"
"It is," he said grimly. "I'd rather face the minions of technological evil than another monthly assignment meeting."
Caritha punched his arm. "Just answer y or n so we can get on with this or not."
"I'll catch up with you later," he promised, pushing himself to his feet.
" Y or n," insisted Caritha.
"Yes, dammit," he said wearily. "I mean, y. But leave it running. Leave it running!"
The alley faded to utter black.
The disconnect command automatically opened the clasps on his headmounted monitor. Gabe eased it off, unplugging the feeds from his hotsuit. The monitor was brand new, lighter than the model he was used to, but it still made him feel as if he had a garbage can over his head.
He stood in the simulation pit, reorienting himself slowly. By afternoon he was going to be aching all over, the way he'd been throwing himself around the room. Like an overgrown, hyperactive eight-year-old playing junior G-man or something. And it was a big room, the biggest Diversifications had; after fifteen years he'd worked his way up to the basketball-court size with the twenty-foot ceilings and full range of equipment—treadmill, stair-climber, scaffolding assembly, modular blocks to stand in for furniture, padded mats.
He had spent a good hour bringing the platform-and-slide arrangement up in the freight elevator and then assembling it for the trapdoor-chute sequence. Looking at it divested of the simulation, he felt embarrassed, even though there was no one to feel embarrassed in front of.
What's the matter, hotwire—too much like kid stuff for you? He could hear Marly's deep, slightly hoarse laughter in his mind.
He looked down at the monitor lying open in
Far down at the other end of the room, the silhouette of a man appeared. "Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!" The man started to run for it when another red beam speared the length of the ward and impaled him. He fell backwards.
A moment later Caritha materialized at Gabe's elbow, hefting the cam. "Did I mention I made some other modifications to your hardware? Hope you don't mind too much."
"Why did you come down the chute?" he asked incredulously.
"Last thing they'd expect," she said, winking at him. "Find Jimmy? I hope not."
"Haven't looked," Marly said. "Come on." They hurried through the ward, Caritha scanning the beds with the cam. Gabe marveled. It had originally been a simple record/playback holo projector until she'd gone to work on it; now it was the Swiss Army knife of handcams. She had the same easy genius for hardware that Sam did.
He felt himself flushing guiltily at the thought of his daughter, but there was no time to dwell on that; they had reached the end of the ward. He spotted three vacant beds, and then Marly was shoving him after Caritha into what looked like an elevator. Doors snapped shut behind them. Marly was still searching for a control panel when the floor tilted and spilled them out through the back wall. "Uh-oh," said Caritha in a low voice.
They were looking not into another room but down a long, dark alley strewn with garbage and the shattered remnants of unfathomable machine parts.
"This must be where all the bad machines go to be punished," Marly said. She pulled into a crouch, poised to strike out.
"Can you bust it up, show us where we really are?" Gabe asked Caritha.
"It's worse than you think," Caritha said. She thumbed a switch on the cam, and a bright circle of light appeared on a filthy wall. A moment later the words came up in poison green, precise and annoying:
TIME: 10.30 A.M. MEETING: 11:15 A.M., NEW MONTHLY
ASSIGNMENTS !!REMINDER!! LUNCH TOMORROW: 12:30 P.M.
W/MANNY RIVERA, PROBABLY RE QUOTA ELAPSED TIME: 24 MINUTES, CREDITED TO
GILDING BODYSHIELDS
DISCONNECT: Y/N?
Gabe groaned.
"Rotten break, hotwire," Marly said, and then grinned at him. "Or is it?"
"It is," he said grimly. "I'd rather face the minions of technological evil than another monthly assignment meeting."
Caritha punched his arm. "Just answer y or n so we can get on with this or not."
"I'll catch up with you later," he promised, pushing himself to his feet.
" Y or n," insisted Caritha.
"Yes, dammit," he said wearily. "I mean, y. But leave it running. Leave it running!"
The alley faded to utter black.
The disconnect command automatically opened the clasps on his headmounted monitor. Gabe eased it off, unplugging the feeds from his hotsuit. The monitor was brand new, lighter than the model he was used to, but it still made him feel as if he had a garbage can over his head.
He stood in the simulation pit, reorienting himself slowly. By afternoon he was going to be aching all over, the way he'd been throwing himself around the room. Like an overgrown, hyperactive eight-year-old playing junior G-man or something. And it was a big room, the biggest Diversifications had; after fifteen years he'd worked his way up to the basketball-court size with the twenty-foot ceilings and full range of equipment—treadmill, stair-climber, scaffolding assembly, modular blocks to stand in for furniture, padded mats.
He had spent a good hour bringing the platform-and-slide arrangement up in the freight elevator and then assembling it for the trapdoor-chute sequence. Looking at it divested of the simulation, he felt embarrassed, even though there was no one to feel embarrassed in front of.
What's the matter, hotwire—too much like kid stuff for you? He could hear Marly's deep, slightly hoarse laughter in his mind.
He looked down at the monitor lying open in
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