‘Ronica and I, we’ve met before,’ Rimmer told the three of them. ‘You gentlemen should be careful of her. She’s the treacherous type. Aren’t you, Roni? You carrying a gun, sweetheart?’
‘Not this time, Rimmer.’
‘Better let me see those panties — make sure.’ Rimmer jerked the gun at the ceiling. ‘So lift that pretty dress you’re wearing and show me there’s nothing more lethal down there than what the Lord gave you to have dominion over men.’
Ronica knew better than to argue with Rimmer. She took hold of the hem of her dress, and lifted it as ordered.
‘Mmm,’ said Rimmer. ‘You’re wearing my favorite kind of underwear. None.’ He shrugged. ‘Looks like you were stripped for action, Roni. I guess this is a love hotel.’
Ronica sneered. ‘Satisfied?’
‘I’ll get to you in a while. We’ve got some unfinished business, you and I.’
Ronica smoothed her dress down over her thighs.
Rimmer turned toward Prevezer. ‘I’ll take a wild guess here. Dallas and the big guy are taking a trip in virtual reality and you’re the tour guide, right?’
‘I prefer the term “Simulated World” myself,’ said Prevezer.
‘Oh, you do, huh?’ Rimmer waved the gun at the others. ‘Okay, apart from the man who just expressed a preference, I want everyone else belly-down on the floor with your hands on the back of your neck.’
Cavor, Ronica, and Simou knelt and then prostrated themselves on the floor as ordered. Cavor recognized that there was little chance of any of them tackling Rimmer while they were on the floor. Clearly, Rimmer knew what he was doing.
‘Shall I tell you what I think is going on here?’ Rimmer wagged his finger thoughtfully. ‘I think that Dallas and friend are carrying out a little experiment. I think they’re using virtual reality’ — he smiled at Prevezer as if challenging the other man to contradict him — ‘to test the integrity of a plan you’re all intending to carry out for real. Now this part is just a guess. But I’d say you and he are planning to rob the First National Blood Bank. Am I right?’
Prevezer said nothing. Rimmer put the gun against his head and repeated the question.
‘Am I right?’
Prevezer nodded. ‘You’re right.’
Rimmer sniffed. ‘Reality, huh? The more we try to get a hold on it, render it, depict it, the more it eludes us. Explain how your setup works.’
While Prevezer told him how the simulation operated, Rimmer stared through the mesh-screen sphere that enveloped Dallas’s head. With eyes closed and his face entirely immobile, Dallas looked quite peaceful, almost as if he was asleep. There was just the odd flurry of rapid eye movement to indicate some activity inside the brain.
When he had been told all he needed to know, Rimmer bit his lip excitedly. Dallas looked like he was merely dreaming. But perhaps a nightmare was what was required.
‘How real is it for them, in the simulation?’
‘Indistinguishable from the real world,’ admitted Prevezer, professional pride getting the better of his tongue. ‘They’re aware that it’s a simulation, but all their senses inform them that it’s very real. They can experience all normal physiological thresholds.’
Rimmer was intrigued. ‘Would that include the pain threshold, by any chance?’ When Prevezer said nothing, Rimmer replaced the barrel of the gun against his head. ‘I won’t hesitate to shoot you, my godlike friend. Please answer.’
‘Yes. All normal physiological thresholds.’
‘Good. So how are they getting on, right now?’ he asked.
‘Not so good.’ Prevezer showed him the two men’s vital signs on the computer screen. ‘These numbers relate to their physiological responses inside the simulation. They tell us how their bodies are reacting even as we speak. Heart rates, body temperatures, lung function spirometry, blood pressure response, everything. As you can see with Gates, his body temperature is very cold and his heart rate is way down. If you weren’t here, I’d have brought him back to reality by now.’
‘I’m not much interested in him,’ said Rimmer. ‘What about Dallas?’
‘Not as bad. Even so, I’d probably have brought him back too. All I have to do to make the switch is press this button.’ Prevezer reached for the button and then yelped as Rimmer smacked his hand hard with the gun.
‘Not until I’m good and ready. First, we’re going to have some fun.’ Rimmer sneered at Dallas. ‘It’s your own fault, you arrogant bastard. Haven’t you heard? The wise man’s eyes are in his head, but the fool walketh in darkness.’ He looked at Prevezer. ‘You. Think of some shit to throw at them.’
‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Not in my mind, I think,’ chuckled Rimmer. ‘Reprogram something bad for them.’
‘The place they’re in right now,’ said Prevezer. ‘It would take me a long time to reprogram that. More time than I assume you have. Days probably.’
Rimmer looked at Prevezer through narrowed eyes. ‘This is your thing, isn’t it? Simulations.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve used them myself. Killing games mostly. You know the kind of thing. See how many monsters you can blast to bits inside an hour. In my experience, a good simulation engineer usually has a whole plethora of programs at hand. Programs he can add, one to another, like silicon building blocks. It would be unlike Dallas to choose someone who was not considered to be the best in his professional field. So think hard, my computer-minded friend. Think hard. What other elements can you add to their existing situation? Something really nasty and unpleasant. Unless you want to disappoint me. Ronica will tell you, I lose all my human skills when I’m disappointed.’
VI
Simworld: Elapsed Time
3 Hours 30 Minutes
It was another hour before Gates had recovered sufficiently to sit up and drink the hot sugar water Dallas had prepared for him: One box of Jell-O was enough to provide five hundred kilocalories of heat energy.
‘How are you feeling?’ asked Dallas.
Gates looked at his still gloved hand and flexed the fingers several times before answering.
‘Stiff,’ he said. ‘Like I spent the night in the icebox.’ Yawning, he added, ‘And I’ve got the mother and father of all headaches.’
‘That’s just dehydration. Keep drinking the sugar water.’
Gates nodded and sipped from the sealed bottle before glancing around at their surroundings.
Arranged along the circumference of the circular-shaped facility, the R&R area reminded him most of the interior of the Clostridium Hoteclass="underline" a long, sweeping curve of steel flooring underneath a windshield of inclined panes of backlit fretted glass; and on the inside of the bend, a number of glass-fronted rooms that included a galley, a dormitory, a medical facility, a washroom, an armory, a dressing room with spare space suits and life-support packs, a subordinate computer room, and a large lounge. Farther along the corridor was parked an electric car, not dissimilar to the one that had transported the cryoprecipitate from the vault to the landing site, except that it was equipped with four seats and designed to travel all the way around the compass of the facility, instead of to its hermetic and forbidden center.
‘So what’s the story, doc?’ croaked Gates. ‘You got penguin blood or something?’
‘Your cold reaction probably has more to do with your P2,’ said Dallas. ‘I’ve given the matter some thought while you’ve been recovering. You see, the hypothalamus is the major center of the brain for regulating body temperature. It’s sensitive to blood temperature changes of as little as half a degree. I think your own hypothalamus must be even more sensitive than that.’