Bluescreen Dan Wells

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.”“Us too,” said Tr0nik.“Play crazy!”“Play crazy!” Sahara smiled again, the perfect ambassador, and one by one the Cherry Dogs blinked out to their private lobby.Out of the public eye, Sahara’s cheerful persona dropped, and she rolled her eyes.“Play crazy.We almost lost that stupid game playing crazy.”“I’m sorry I left Anja,” said Marisa.“I’m so used to playing with the cam drones, I just wasn’t keeping an eye on the map without them, and the other team got behind me.”“With Fang and me down you couldn’t have done anything anyway,” said Quicksand.Her real name was Jaya, and she lived in Mumbai, but her English was flawless—better, Marisa admitted, than her own pocho blend of American and Mexican.“I know we don’t have a real coach yet,” said Sahara, “but I do my best, and I told you to bring those.” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes had the slightly vacant look of someone watching a separate video feed.Marisa braced herself for another chastising tirade—Sahara was her best friend, but she could get angry when they played this sloppy.After a long pause Sahara shook her head.“You know what? Don’t worry about it.Yes, there was some bad play, and that win was way too lucky to rely on in a real match, but wow.” She smiled, and Marisa couldn’t help but smile with her.“There’s going to be replays of that drone launch all over the net for weeks, and in a practice game like this that’s worth more than a win.” She put a hand on Marisa’s shoulder, her eyes refocusing on her face.“And we have plenty of time to practice before the tourney, so don’t beat yourself up.”Marisa cringed at the reminder, and couldn’t help feeling bad all over again.“You up for another match?” asked Fang.“We ought to play with the Force Projectors a little more before word gets around, see what else they can do that no one’s thought of yet.”“What time is it over there?” asked Marisa.“Like, one in the morning?”“Sleep is for the weak,” said Fang.“Let’s do this.”“It’s only half ten here,” said Jaya.“I can do another game or two tonight.”“Only two?” asked Fang.“Weeeeeeak.”“Ten a.m.in LA,” said Jaya.“Sahara, you and Marisa and Anja should be good for a few more hours of practice at least, right?”“I haven’t slept since yesterday,” said Anja.She shrugged.“No sense sleeping now.”“No.No more practice today,” said Sahara.“We’ve got to leverage this drone launch clip if we want to really get the word out.” She was growing audibly excited.“We haven’t had a really great exploit since Mari min-maxed the avatar builder, and that’s what put us on the map in the first place; something like this could take our reputation into the major leagues.I’ve got to spend a few hours at least cutting good angles out of the replay and submitting this to broadcasters.”“Tomorrow, then,” said Fang.“Or tonight, depending on your time zone.I’ll run a few solo games with the new kit and see if I can get some good footage for you.”“I’ll join you,” said Jaya.“Maybe we can play catch with a Mark-III.”The two of them blinked out, and Marisa looked at Anja and Sahara.“I’ll see you around, then.The restaurant’ll be opening soon, see you there?”“If I get a chance,” said Sahara.“I’ll ping you.”“Dinner, then.”“You ladies can come to my place,” said Anja.“Pool’s installed now.”“A pool party at a mansion in Brentwood,” said Sahara with a smile.“That’ll play great on the feed.” She raised her eyebrows mischievously.“Let’s do it.Eight o’clock.Wear something revealing.”Marisa faked a smile.“Anything for eyeballs?”“Anything for eyeballs,” said Sahara.“See you tonight.Cherry Dogs forever.”“Cherry Dogs forever,” said Marisa.Sahara blinked away, and Marisa stared for a moment at the spot she used to be in.“I’ve got something great for the eyeballs,” said Anja.“You’re going to love it.”“It’s the internet, Anja; they’ve seen boobs before.”“Nothing that biological,” said Anja, and grinned wickedly.“See you tonight.”“Tonight,” said Marisa.Anja blinked away, and a few seconds later Marisa did the same.She opened her eyes in her bedroom, cluttered and cramped, lying flat on her bed.Above her on the ceiling was an Overworld poster, the limited edition she’d bought at last year’s regional championship; it made the transition easier, she thought, to see a piece of that world as she entered the real one.She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking around at the unfolded laundry and scraps of half-built computer equipment scattered haphazardly around the room.Home.She reached back for the cord, lightly touching the jack where it plugged into her skull.She never felt anything physical when she disconnected it—not even a tug, now that she’d upgraded her djinni to the Ganika 7.The new cord only connected with a weak magnetic link, so it could pull away freely if someone knocked it.Even without a physical sensation, though, she always seemed to feel something else, something.psychological, she supposed.She yanked gently on the cord and it came away, severing her hard line to the net.The real world.She hadn’t been here in a while.The colors were so much duller.TWOMarisa Carneseca blinked, calling up her mail list.The djinni implanted in her head switched modes smoothly, projecting the words on her Ganika-brand corneas so that they seemed to float in the air in front of her, filling the room with dimly glowing letters.The icon for her spam folder was red and pulsing, and she dumped it without even bothering to look at what was inside.Her inbox showed two emails from her mother and five from Overworld—most of those probably ads, but there might be a few from Cherry Dog fans.She’d look through them later.Two emails from Olaya, the house computer; Marisa opened the folder and saw two repeats of the same passive demand for laundry access.She sighed and looked around; it had been a while, she had to admit.She saw a half bottle of Lift on the nightstand, and took a long drink.She’d met a cute boy at a club a couple of nights ago, but his djinni had been so filled with adware she hadn’t accepted his ID link; instead she’d written it down, like in the old days, and the paper was buried somewhere in this pile of clothes—she couldn’t let the drone in until she’d checked all her pockets.She blinked the house folder closed and scrolled down, rolling some of the stiffness out of her shoulders as she did.Her neck was pulling on the left again, where her natural muscles connected to her Jeon prosthetic.She lifted the artificial arm, splaying the fingers in front of her—it was her seventeenth birthday present, just a few months old.Obviously mechanical, but slender and elegant.Definitely a step up from the old SuperYu.At the bottom of the mail list was a message from Bao, reminding her to ping him when she finished practice [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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