Chapter
Twenty-two
Lost and Found
The orders Gwen gave were very clear. “Do not remove your masks as you seek the others in your group. Take your time and visit with the person standing next to you. Get to know the person behind the mask. But first, the surprises aren’t over.” With a regal wave of her hand, a cool breeze wafted through the ballroom. It bore the pleasant scent of the pine forest that blanketed the valley visible beyond the balcony.
“If we can smell the fragrant pine, can the sense of taste be far behind?” With another wave, tables laden with food and drink appeared at intervals around the balcony. The aroma of roast turkey and beef became mixed with the sweet odor of pine. “Don’t worry, the food is totally non-fattening!” Laughter rippled through the masked guests. “Eating imaginary food may be the most bizarre part of the IHT world we have created for our students, but in our cultural studies we thought the act of eating was an important social function to experience.”
She started to leave the dais but turned back to the onlookers. “Oh, one more thing. Some of you may have noticed, there are more people here now than there were before we moved you all about. To be honest, there really aren’t more people here — just more personalities.” Another wave and a string quartet appeared on the balcony and began playing Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. “IHT technology has allowed us to give bodies to our AI personalities, some of whom are our guests tonight. Can you tell the real people from our special guests?” With that, the spotlight faded. The ballroom settled into a patchwork of warm chandelier light and cool moonlight from outside.
The search was on!
Rosa was bursting at the seams to talk everything over with Cameron; however, it was going to be next to impossible to find him in this forest of people. It was at times like this she really hated being not so tall.
Okay, she admitted to herself, I’m short!
The silly masks only made her task that much worse.
Cameron knows I’m vertically challenged, she reasoned. He knows the trouble I’ll have finding him in this crowd. Which means he’ll come to me — I should stay put. But where’s the best place to stand?
By looking at the ceiling, she judged she was about in the center of the room. Logically, the two best places to wait would be either here, at the center of the room, or along the balcony rail.
She weighed the options. It’s crowded here, but there is only one center of the room. On the other hand, it’s not crowded on the balcony.
Rosa’s problem was solved by the sound of a distinctive giggle coming from somewhere behind her. No mask or wall of people could keep Rosa, or Cameron, from finding Becky Weingold. Rosa started in the direction of the giggling but halted when it stopped. She listened intently. There it was again. A few steps, then listened again. Moving and listening, it was like playing a game of “Marco Polo” in a swimming pool crammed with people or like a ship watching for the pulsating beacon of a lighthouse through a thick fog. It took a full five minutes before Rosa broke through the edge of the crowd. Standing no more than three feet away from her were Becky, Cameron, and Malik. Cameron pulled a gold watch from his pocket and flipped open the cover. He examined it closely, then with a feigned expression of puzzlement, he looked at Rosa. “What took you so long?”
Rosa shot Cameron a penetrating look. “Has anyone told you that you look absolutely evil in that mask?”
“You’re right, he does!” said Becky, giggling.
At five-foot-ten, Meagan Fletcher was not a short woman, but she had a similar problem to Rosa’s. She had absolutely no idea what X-Boy looked like. She had to wait for X-Boy, or rather, Gus, to find her. Considering the nature of their meeting, the crowded center of the ballroom was not a good place to wait, so she chose a place on the balcony rail that was near one of the food tables.
Her reporter instincts compelled her to sample the simulated food. She tried various bits of the virtual feast and had a mixed reaction. Most of the food tasted close to the real thing. However, many didn’t quite have the right texture, or, how could she describe it? Chewiness? It just didn’t feel right in her mouth. The warmth or chill of this food or that wasn’t quite right either. And drinks were really weird. Meagan assembled a new sampling of food on what appeared to be a fine China plate, grabbed a glass of virtual wine in an elegant crystal glass, and retired to the balcony railing. She set the plate and the glass on the balustrade and enjoyed the beautiful vista that stretched out below her before deciding to try some of the smoked salmon.
She stabbed at the faux fish with her fork and lifted it to her mouth. Her lips closed around the morsel, delicately plucking it from the fork. The instant the simulated salmon touched her tongue, Meagan Fletcher’s gag reflex kicked into gear. Her throat closed off, her stomach twisted into a knot, and her face distorted with a sour look. The awful taste and slimy texture had a quick and violent effect on the reporter. She grabbed the railing and leaned over the edge of the balcony, sending her plate, glass, and fork plummeting to the forest below. Then her throat was pressured open by the rush of compressed air forced up by her constricting stomach. In short, she gagged and expelled the offending fake food from her mouth with a violent cough. The wedge of salmon hurtled twelve feet before dissolving into thin air.
She was still gagging and spitting, trying to purge her mouth of the wretched taste, when someone approached. He was laughing. “In an experiment, one can find success even in failure.” He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and offered it to Meagan. “Don’t you agree, Ms. Fletcher?”
Meagan did not take the offered hanky. The man touched the side of his mouth with his index finger and extended the hanky a little further. Meagan took the hint—and the handkerchief. Embarrassed, she turned away from the man to hide the action of wiping her mouth. Finished with the quick cleanup, she turned back, smiled, neatly folded the square of white cotton, and offered it back to the man.
The man made a big show of rejecting the offer by clasping his hands behind his back. “No, you keep it,” he said with good humor. “It isn’t real anyway, is it?”
Meagan smiled at that. “Gus?” she asked after a brief moment of trying to see the man beneath the mask and broad-brimmed hat.
The man bowed slightly in answer to her question.
“It would take a die-hard company man like yourself to have the nerve to call that horrific attempt at simulated food a success.”
“Look at it this way,” said the man. “The simulation was good enough to get your body to react, no matter how badly, to something that didn’t really exist. I call that a success. We just have to fine-tune the salmon.”
“Somehow, I think you won that argument.”
When Meagan reached toward the man’s mask, he grabbed her wrist. “No,” he said.
“I know who you are, Gus. Well, maybe not who you are, but what you are.” Meagan felt the change in his grip. She knew she had caught Gus, if that was his real name, off guard. “I know you’re the ‘Boy Wonder.’ You’re the inventor of the multiCom and the IHT. You’re the brains behind GundTech.”
He released Meagan’s wrist and turned to the railing. “Nonsense!” He forced a laugh and tried to act controlled. “There’s no way anyone could trace my friend’s identity.”
“I didn’t say I traced your identity. I simply said I know you are the head of GundTech.” He didn’t reply. Meagan pressed on. “You want to know how? Wanna know how I know? Programmer’s pride! That’s how. I had Jason analyze every bit of his internal code, and you know what he found? In two places, the programmer left his signature, his handle, or whatever you call it—X-Boy. Even back then you called yourself X-Boy. So there you have it, Bob’s your uncle!”
The man straightened and turned on her suddenly, Meagan took a fearful step backward. His costumed figure looked ominous as he reached out and grabbed her by both shoulders. He was grinning wildly under his mask. “Ha!”
A chill ran up the reporter’s spine.
“You exceeded even my expectations, Ms. Fletcher! You’re exactly the person I need!”
Meagan felt the friendly squeeze of her shoulders in gentle hands. The man’s actions were not a threat, but a gesture of congratulations.
“May I call you Meagan?”
Meagan felt the warm flush of embarrassment on her face. “I’m sorry, I thought…”
It was the man’s turn to be embarrassed. He withdrew his hands from her shoulders. “I frightened you! I… I… I didn’t mean to.” The man turned so his back was to the crowd inside the ballroom. He raised his mask, revealing a kind face and thoughtful eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, I apologize! I was not being rational. I’m just the suspicious sort, I fear.”
“Perhaps that is why you became a reporter.”
“Perhaps.” She looked deep into his eyes for a few moments then said, “The answer is yes.”
“Yes? To what?”
“Yes, you may call me Meagan. Yes, I want the exclusive story on the IHT. Yes, I want your story, too.” She took his hands in hers. “And yes, I will help you fight whatever you fear is threatening you.”
“This is not the time or place for dark thoughts. It’s a time for celebration! We will meet in person on Monday, if that is okay with you.” Meagan nodded in reply. “Good. I’ll have my private jet pick you up. Enough of business then,” he said brightly. He lowered his mask and offered Meagan his arm. “Shall we dance?”
A tall man and a beautiful woman walked past the four American students and started to dance to a waltz the string quartet began to play. Many of the adults also began to dance.
“Those two!” Rosa sounded assured in her assessment.
The others examined the couple.
“What’s your reasoning?” asked Malik.
“They’re too perfect,” said Rosa.
“Like out of a fairy tale,” said Becky with a sigh.
Rosa sounded triumphant. “My point exactly.”
“I have to agree,” said Cameron. “D’you notice how the waltz started exactly when they reached the ballroom floor?”
Malik continued that thought, “So their actions were timed with the simulation!” He gave Rosa a pat on the back. “Good job, Costas. Those two are definitely AIs.”
Gwen Johanssen watched the dancing couple as she approached the four students. “Hello,” she said. Malik, Rosa and Cameron were tongue-tied. Becky giggled nervously. Gwen’s eyes lit up with recognition. “You must be Miss Weingold.” Becky didn’t know how to act, so she curtsied awkwardly. “And that would make you three the rest of the American students.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Rosa.
“I think the point of this gathering is to meet new people, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” said Malik.
“Then what are you waiting for? Scatter yourselves to the four winds.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Cameron as they fanned out into the ballroom.
– End Chapter Twenty-two –
