He fumbled a little with the lock code, then slid the door open.
“Lieutenant Dallas. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were out here.”
“No problem. Good form. What level are you?”
“Oh, none.” There was an awkwardness to his shrug that hadn’t been there in the movements of the routine. “Not really. Virtually and in holo? I rock, but I don’t actually compete or practice or anything.”
“You should.”
He said, “Well…” And shrugged jerkily again. “Is there something new about Bart? Did you find out who killed him?”
“We’re working on it. Were you testing a new game?”
“Oh no. Not really. We’re always adding new functions and levels to our VR instructional programs. But mostly I was just… going away for a while. We should’ve closed today.” He looked over her shoulder, away. “I think we probably should have closed. But Var thought we’d all be better off here, doing something, being together. He’s right, I guess. I don’t know what I’d do at home.” He shrugged again. “The same thing I’m doing here, probably. Sorry. Do you want to come in? Or go to the break room? Something.”
“In’s good.” She stepped past him. “You do some of your testing here, some development?”
“Sure. Mostly VR and interactive screen in this lab. We’ve got others for straight comp, pocket games, and instructionals, holo. I use it for research, too, comparing on-the-market stuff with things we’re working on.”
“Must be fun.”
“Yeah, mostly it is. Bart… He implemented this policy early on. Everybody plays. It’s like part of the job description. Everybody who works here has to log in a certain number of hours on actual play. You can’t create games if you don’t play games-that’s his philosophy.”
“So, does everybody who works here get a shot at something that’s still in the development stage?”
“No. That would depend on their level and specific involvement. But we have all our on-the-market games available for employees, and a lot of our competition’s. Do you want to try something out? I can set you up.”
“How about the holo-lab? I’ll try out Fantastical.”
He winced. “I really can’t. I’m sorry. We don’t test that with the staff here. Not yet. We do weekends and after-hours. In a few more weeks, we’ll be ready. Bart’s already talking about the launch, and how… I mean-God. Goddamn it.”
Benny leaned back against a work counter as if his long legs wouldn’t support him any longer. “I can’t get it. I just can’t pull it in and keep it there. He’s gone. He’s really gone.”
“Bart had big plans for the new game.”
“Mega. He had a way of seeing the whole picture, taking it down the line. Having Plan B and C in place just in case.”
“You went back a long way. I stopped in your office, looking for you. I saw the pictures.”
“Yeah. I can hardly remember a time when Cill and Bart weren’t right there. Then Var.” He etched a square in the air with his fingers. “We clicked the corners and boxed it in. Four square. Oh Jesus.”
“It’s a hard loss. A friend, a partner. You shared a lot. The picture in the costumes. Star Wars, right?”
“Yeah, A New Hope. Episode four.” After heaving out a breath, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, then dropped them. “Leia, Luke, and Han. The summer before college, at Worldcon.”
“Bart must’ve been a big fan. The costume, his house droid.”
“Arguably, Star Wars opened things up, and the CGI developed by Lucas…” He managed a ghost of a smile. “You don’t want to get me started.”
“He probably played it a lot, in fantasy games. Maybe favored versions of it in the new game.”
“Not so much. I mean in the new game. We’ve got buckets of Star Wars and Jedi games. Really intense.”
“But he knew how to use a light saber.”
“Wicked frosted. He could holo or VR pilot any ship or transport, too. When Bart goes gaming, he’s into it. He works at it.”
“What did he favor in the new game?”
“Gosh, we mix it up a lot. You’ve got to when you’re developing.” But the question, the thinking it over, seemed to settle him. “He likes the battles. Save the girl or the village or the planet deal. Quests and wizardry, facing the Black Knight, slaying the dragon. The thing about the new game is you can do all that and more. You can build the world, the mythology.”
As he spoke, excitement sparked in his voice, onto his face. “Bart’s the undisputed champ at world building. He wrote the outlines and consulted on the scripts for the vid versions of Charrah and Third Star. Bart’s a really good writer, and you combine that with the programming chops, you got something way up.”
Benny wound down, sighed, seemed to deflate again. “I can’t get it straight in my head that he’s gone. Really gone. It’s like it won’t stick in my brain from one minute to the next. I don’t know what we’re going to do. When you find out who did it, when you put them away, will it get better? Will it?”
“I don’t know. You’ll know who and why, and you’ll know Bart got justice.”
“It matters.” He nodded. “Justice mattered to Bart. It’s why he liked to play the hero, I guess. But the thing is, Lieutenant Dallas, justice won’t bring him back.”
“No, it won’t.”
She left him, headed to the steps, started down. When she looked back she saw him, VR goggles in place again, hands fisted as he gave the opening salute.
Going away for a while again, she thought.
After the sticky, sweltering heat that seemed to bounce off the streets of East Washington into the faces of anyone with business out of doors, the chill of a hotel lobby felt like bliss. Even better, Peabody felt completely uptown in her plum purple multi-zips-the cut and placement of zippers helped, she believed, made her ass look smaller. She’d married it with knee-high shine boots and a float tank-low scoop-that gave her tits a nice lift.
She’d added a temp tattoo on one of those nicely lifted tits of a winged dragon inside a heart, pumped up the facial enhancements, gone wild and curly with the hair, and draped on plenty of sparkles.
No possible way she looked like a cop.
She knew the outfit worked because McNab had taken one look at her, made that flattering mmmmm sound of his, and grabbed her ass.
Undercover meant blending, and she concluded they’d passed that test, she in her plum purple and candy pink, McNab in his spring-grass green and Son of Zark tee. Hand-in-hand they glided across the lobby in her heeled shines and his ankle skids toward con registration.
In his many pockets and inside her many zips, they carried weapons-which had required a stop and private ID scan at Security-as well as badges, restraints, ’links, and communicators.
Neither expected trouble, but both sort of hoped for it.
They collected their con passes, registration packs, and freebies-which included go-cups featuring characters from a new game, some free downloads, discount chits, and map discs.
“This is the frost on the ice,” McNab decided as they moved into the first display area. “This is total. Did you see they have VR demos all day-and look, man, that’s the new 3-Z system. It’s got portable holo capabilities. Costs the earth and a couple satellites, and it’s first generation, but you can play holo without a full holo-room.”
Peabody stopped long enough to watch the demo. “The characters look like ghosts. Flat, jittery ghosts.”
“Yeah, well, it’s first generation. Give it a couple years. Tech rules, baby.”
They wandered along with aliens and warriors, villains and heroes and geeks, while the air zipped and buzzed and crashed around them.
Lines snaked for demos, for meetings with game to vid or vid to game characters. Screens exploded with battles, space wars, air-toground chases, and magic quests.