Virtual Horizon Read online

  Linda said, "Nice, but you'll probably need [Repair] to do serious fixing by magic."

  He nodded. "Or [Heal], or both. I definitely want [Heal] but the rules base the power of your spell on how many and how specific the elements are. So ideally you'll take something like that for your third element. And then there's the rule about making these marks more specific and powerful... well, you'll see soon."

  Typhoon leaped into the water, knife in hand, to search the dead kraken. He emerged holding a corroded, nasty-looking treasure chest. "Loot!"

  Up on deck they pried it open. A wave of green gas burst out, doing major wounds and a [Stunned] effect.

  Typhoon gagged. "Ugh, should've checked."

  "Can you smell something for real?"

  "I'm told smell and taste are different in here, but that's still nasty." He wrinkled his nose.

  Linda searched the open box. "A pouch of bullets." The velvet bag she found had a yellow lightning bolt icon, and the single bullet within was marked the same way. "Inspect."

  [Infinite Ammunition Pouch, Lightning: Take up to one bullet per minute to add lightning damage to a Guns attack. Has a +10% misfire rate.]

  She relayed that. "Nice. Want it?"

  He looked surprised. "Sure."

  They returned their focus to the sails and rigging and had the NPCs focus on ship movement rather than being ready for combat. Crown was even more in need of repairs now. When a dense fog bank rolled in, it put Linda on alert. "More fighting?"

  "I'll scout the water ahead," Typhoon said, and prepared to dive.

  "Any excuse for a swim, eh?"

  "Might as well enjoy it." He jumped overboard.

  Linda looked from the bow into the gloomy fog. Slow string music played. Lanterns on the deck and rigging shined down into a rippling sea where her officer wriggled forward with a whole-body swimming stroke. He really was created to swim and dive, battle and explore. And he had a known creator, a known purpose. He did a corkscrew spin, vanished below and burst up again in a spray of water. The mist swirled in a dancing imitation of his moves. He kept pace easily with the ship behind him, flicking his tail and pulling himself along with his hands.

  A crewman on deck said, "Cap'n, we should be near Zeno's Isle."

  Linda startled to attention. "Yes, of course." If nothing had happened in the fog this time, arrival would probably be very soon. She turned back to watch Typhoon a little longer, then called, "I think we're in the clear. Come up."

  Typhoon splashed around and slowed, snagging a rope ladder on the port side to haul himself back to the deck. He stood there grinning and soaked. "Nothing to report, Captain."

  "How's the water? Cold?"

  "A little, but you get used to it. I'd show you but you're not in one of those VR pods."

  Out of the mist they began to see the shape of land. "Good," said Linda. "I need to sign out and finish some work."

  "Fair enough. Say, I have an idea. We AIs have been trying to learn more about your world. But we've got a limited drone supply."

  "I could get you a cheap flying drone and have you buzz around with it."

  "I'd like that," Typhoon said. "But better than that... What if I could steer you?"

  "Huh?!"

  He fidgeted and his claws drummed on the deck railing behind him. "I did an impressively bad job with my last real robot piloting test. So I was thinking, a human could wear i-glasses that feed vision and sound to me. And then I could whisper commands and have that human act on them, like a robot that has enough sense to veto any move that would injure livestock this time."

  She pictured herself walking around campus looking like a fool. "I don't want to pretend to cast spells out here, much less pretend to shoot anybody."

  Typhoon frowned. "I have enough sense not to equip a weapon in a non-PVP area."

  "The fact that you'd even put it like that --"

  "I know we're ignorant. This is how we start fixing it."

  How could she refuse, if he wanted to learn? "All right. So long as I can veto commands. I don't want to get completely embarrassed."

  "By my stupid ideas?"

  Linda scratched her head. "It's not that. Being seen doing weird things in public is always embarrassing. People see your face and think 'who is this freak' and if they know you, they might make fun of you and, well... I've got a reputation to think of. Politics, you know."

  "All right. I think I have a way to deal with that. Might take a few days. But you'll try it?"

  Linda nodded.

  Typhoon hugged her. "You're the best, Captain!"

  She signed out, regretting that she couldn't feel the hug.

  Linda lingered at the title screen, with a thought. "Wait a minute. Is Ludo there?"

  [Yes?] said a text message.

  "He mentioned that smells didn't work the same way for him as for real humans. How would he know that?"

  [Ask Paul! Public announcement tomorrow.]

  Linda quit the game to message Paul. "Arr," she said tiredly, and rephrased her question.

  It took him a while to answer. Linda poked at a homework assignment, though her eyelids were drooping. "No gaming tomorrow," she resolved.

  Paul finally sent a link. "Sorry; I'm in a dangerous forest with Noc. Short answer is, somebody's been uploaded already. Check out this article."

  Hunt For Suspects In Seoul Subway Hack, the linked piece said. There'd been some kind of criminal chase and flash-mob rally in Korea, near the first uploading clinic.

  "Gobbled up her creators, I bet."

  "Ludo didn't say who, but maybe. If I'd built a system like that, I'd make sure the process is free for me! I tried to load the article again just now, but the censors have blocked it on my end in the last few hours."

  So the government was paying attention.

  * * *

  Linda fidgeted during class. She checked the news; one benefit of being at the Institute was access to all the major Internets with only light censorship. A headline proclaimed, First Patient For 'Brain Uploading' Procedure Greets Skeptics.

  An AI within the online video game "Thousand Tales" claims to be the digital ghost of Clark Ostler, one of its designers. Using a human virtual avatar, the alleged Ostler spoke with reporters and ethics researchers at a press conference today to answer questions about the process and claim he is the same person as before. The company has just begun operation of a surgical clinic in Seoul...

  "Digital ghost is right," Linda muttered. The man had gotten his brain shredded like a deli ham, each thin slice meticulously scanned and reconstructed as software. All to create a computer program that claimed to have the same memories and personality as the original. It couldn't be true, could it? Linda called up the research papers Ludo had mentioned, and skimmed the abstracts. Supposedly, animal testing had proven you could teach a skill or memory to a creature, kill it, digitize its brain, and get a simulation that acted like it still knew that information. Linda's skin crawled as she imagined a surgeon prying her skull open.

  She had an e-mail from someone at The Tech, the student newspaper, asking for an interview about the nightclub shooting. She sighed; she wanted to just send a matter-of-fact response but for career purposes she ought to show up in person and talk with a reporter. She agreed.

  Linda tried to pay attention in class, but everything seemed irrelevant compared to the prospect of AIs and digital ghosts.

  And the offer she'd gotten, personally. How was Paul being so casual about it? He seemed completely confident, without a care in the world. She really needed him around again.

  * * *

  After two days of tedium, catching up on work and exercise, and trying to be charismatic with that reporter, Linda went back to her dorm at dusk. There, she found a large package waiting for her at the front desk. The return address was a stranger.

  Up in her room, she opened it. She pulled out a pair of long-sleeved gloves made of brown and tan faux-fur, with black rubber claws. Then a long, fuzzy brown snake of a tail wi
th a stretchy loop for attaching it to a belt. Then a costume head resembling a cartoon otter with big, cheerful orange eyes and a mop of matching hair. Finally, a note saying, "Have fun, and send pics! -Neaptide."

  Linda stared at it, then went to her computer. "Uh, what?" she asked at the game's title screen.

  The screen faded to the secondary cabin of Fallen Crown, where Typhoon looked up from a book. "Ahoy! Did it arrive yet?"

  "What is this thing?"

  "Partial pelt! You equip it on your head and hands and then wear regular clothes. Did Neaptide send the foot-paws too? If not, regular shoes will work."

  "No feet." She rummaged. "A pair of i-glasses though. Who's Neaptide?"

  "A player who owns a cool suit. She says be careful with it; it's expensive. Turn it on!"

  Linda found a power switch inside the head. A little cooling fan whirred.

  Typhoon looked out from her video screen at the head. "Doesn't match my real colors but it's the best I could borrow." He opened an inventory menu and summoned a stylized pair of cool i-glasses, like a translucent blue visor over his eyes. "Okay, now I can see through its eyes."

  Linda looked more closely at the head. Its eyes shimmered; they were disguised video lenses. She could wear i-glasses under the costume, route the head's cameras to those, and have decent vision. Typhoon would watch the same feed.

  She put on the glasses, then hefted the silly head and donned it. It beeped. Suddenly it became a weird half-real presence around her face. The glasses showed her the world as though she weren't wearing a costume at all. She turned her head back and forth. The angle and perspective were slightly distorted. "This is a fancy setup," she said.

  An instant later, Typhoon's voice echoed in her ears, saying the same words. Linda tried to cover her mouth but bumped her hands on the otter-muzzle in front of her.

  "Ha!" said Typhoon from both the screen and the mask. He sat down on his bunk and ignored the ship around him. "This is great."

  Nervously Linda said, "I wasn't expecting this."

  "It means nobody's going to see your face. And I'll go off-campus so you won't get made fun of by jerks there."

  "Good idea." Linda pulled off the head to admire its artistry. "Secret Agent Decatur, huh? Didn't expect to be costuming as you."

  "Do you have time to go somewhere tonight? Can we?"

  "I have the evening free," she said. Not being a student or a notorious game-player or a junior politician for the evening? This could actually be fun.

  She set the costume down and changed clothes. The year was almost over, and the weather out there was getting nasty, but no snow tonight. She pulled on decent jeans, a white lace-up blouse in what she liked to claim was a pirate style, and a puffy jacket that made her conscious of how it mostly hid her pleasantly full chest. She spotted the long gloves and fiddled with the jacket and blouse to get the costume sleeves under her real ones. Now her hands were covered, but the gloves' undersides were thin enough that she could hold things. She planned ahead and got her subway pass and credit card into a pocket where she could easily grab them.

  Her computer tablet went into the jacket. "I'm hoping we have a reliable enough Net connection for this."

  "I don't know. It's an experiment."

  Now on with her head... the one whose camera-eyes had been watching her. She blushed, not wanting to think about that right now. With some trouble she got the fuzzy neck of it hidden under her clothes. In the mirror she saw a lifelike, smiling critter she didn't recognize, with no exposed skin.

  "How does it feel having five-fingered hands, anyway?" said Typhoon through the suit's little speakers. On the video screen that still sat on Linda's desk, Typhoon held up a webbed hand that had three clawed fingers and a thumb.

  Linda flexed one of her own webbed gloves. "We're not usually aware of it." Again Typhoon's voice echoed her an instant later. "I guess if I were in charge, I'd get rid of the pinky fingers. Not like I play piano." She turned and looked herself over. "Oh darn, tail!"

  She took off her belt to thread that through a loop on the costume's tail, so she could put that on. The big, plush thing dangled behind her, down to her knees, and tickled her butt.

  She went outside carefully, getting used to the slight vertigo from having her vision adjusted. In the dorm lobby she saw three students at a table, pausing in their studies to gape at her. Linda gave them a friendly wave, then turned to the clerk.

  She was about to speak when Typhoon talked for her, using a hidden speaker: "I need a nametag sticker, please."

  The clerk was the student who'd handed her the package, and he didn't seem to recognize her. "Um, sure thing."

  Linda grabbed a marker pen and filled in a traditional "Hi, My Name Is" sticker with "TYPHOON".

  "Eye," said her companion.

  She amended it to "TYPHOON'S EYE."

  "Maybe I should start writing it as one word," he said aloud. Then text appeared in her vision: [Can you see this?]

  "Yes."

  [Good; that's for private chat. Please follow the arrows!]

  A blue arrow lit up to indicate that Linda should turn right, toward the exit. She veered in that direction and was a little surprised when Typhoon flicked a blue icon onto the screen to indicate [Open Door] in roughly the right place.

  [Why are you waiting?] said Typhoon, halfway through the door.

  "I thought you'd expect a loading screen," she said.

  He laughed. "Onward!"

  She walked in response to several movement arrows to hike along a street of dormitories, toward the main campus buildings. "Where am I going? You're not taking me someplace more than say, five miles away, are you?"

  [No, no. I almost asked, but figured out that the nightclub was way too far.]

  "By hundreds of miles, yes."

  Typhoon directed Linda to Massachusetts Avenue. She looked at the marble steps of the Institute's Building 7 across the street. People were staring, but not laughing at her.

  She tensed, ready to ignore Typhoon's commands if he ordered her into traffic. But he sensibly waited for a crossing signal, then turned her left to walk north. "You did that the right way," she said.

  "I practiced. Some of us set up a training ground based on an old DARPA robot contest, then had humans design a better one."

  A hunched-over man in a Red Sox cap startled to attention when she passed. "What are you doing in that?"

  A [Stop] icon flashed and Typhoon had her turn to face him. "Important otter science," he said to the man. Linda tried to add some appropriate body language for the words "she" was saying.

  "Ha, okay then."

  [Onward!] said the commanding icons.

  He led her to the Central subway station, and down the steps with a mark indicating caution. When he failed to steer her around a turn in the stairwell, Linda let herself gently bump muzzle-first into the dirty tile wall.

  "Oh, right," Typhoon said, and made her turn.

  "The tunnels are dangerous below."

  Typhoon began to sound nervous. "Yeah, don't hesitate to veto here." He commanded her to use her subway pass and reach the platforms. A bunch of red [Danger!] icons appeared below on the tracks. She got some lag and glitching in the Net signal underground.

  "It's not instant death down there," Linda said quietly. "Just illegal and dangerous."

  [I'll take your word for it! There's a student group that explores roofs and tunnels, right? Maybe we can try those places next time.]

  Typhoon had them board a subway train and ride it several stops, then change from the Red Line to Blue. "Wait, are you headed for the aquarium?" she said.

  [You guessed it!]

  The New England Aquarium had a concrete facade on the harbor, with windows that shined in the early evening. The ticket seller gal stared at her but laughed, saying, "What's this for, a prank?"

  Typhoon said, "Just checking out the menu! One ticket please."

  "Gonna need you to remove the head so the official cameras can see you at leas
t once. You a student?"

  Linda hesitated until Typhoon flashed some icons saying [Head Up]. She awkwardly pulled off her helmet and got hit with a gust of much chillier air than the stuffy hot inside. "Yeah, student. It's a science experiment."

  The clerk sold her a ticket and while Linda was trying to get the helmet back on, said, "Can I get a picture for myself?"

  "Sure," said Typhoon in his own voice. That made the clerk blink, but she took a photo with her phone.

  Typhoon led them into the building, where they admired a rippling pool of coral and fish and the various walkways and platforms lining it at different heights. He had her stare down at silver-scaled creatures flitting in mesmerizing schools.

  "Those aren't metal, are they?"

  An elderly man beside them said, "Just reflective scales, mister...?"

  "Typhoon." Belatedly an icon bade Linda to turn and wave and point at his nametag. "Then why do they look like metal?"

  The man had an aquarium badge. "There are two very different answers. One is that they contain crystals that reflect light a certain way. The other is that the scales confuse predators in shallow water."

  "Which one's the real answer?"

  "Both! And I don't think we'd get away with having robot fish in here."

  "Wouldn't want a machine posing as a real creature, huh?" Typhoon said, making Linda stifle a giggle.

  The guide looked at them strangely. "What are you doing dressed like that, anyway?"

  "Science!"

  "Well, be careful not to lose your head."

  Linda got steered away, but coughed for attention. Typhoon figured out the problem, and had her pause so he could thank the guide.

  [So they're both real explanations.]

  "Sure," Linda said. "The mechanism, and the reason. It's like asking whether a human city has a bridge by saying that so-and-so built it out of concrete and steel, or by saying that there's a river and people wanted an easy way across."

  Typhoon stared into a multi-story fishtank full of coral, where a human in scuba gear was maintaining some sensors. Typhoon said, [I so want to jump in here.]