mind so you can't lie."
"Yeah, it's supposed to be the brave new horizon of human interaction," Hiro muttered from his chair. "But they just babble about their feelings all day."
"Friend of mine tried it for a week," Ren said. "He said it's very boredom-killing. Turns out if you never lie, there's always someone mad at you."
Hiro and Ren laughed, and the two of them went back to analyzing the other feeds, watching the kickers' ranks rise and fall. The software religion was a flop—Gamma-sensei had lost face all morning. But the poodle was working, as funny-looking animals usually did, sending the Nameless One all the way up to sixty-three, one notch above the mayor.
Aya kept silent, staring at the corner of the screen Frizz had briefly occupied. She was trying to remember every word he'd said to her—that he'd liked her randomly generated nose, thought she was mysterious, and wanted to know her full name.
And he hadn't been lying about any of it.
Of course, when he found out that she didn't have such great taste in randomly generated noses—that she'd just been born with it, because she was an ugly and a party-crashing extra—what would he say then? He wouldn't even be polite about it. The honesty surge would make him show his disappointment about their difference in ambition…
Unless she wasn't an extra by then.
"Hey, Ren," she asked quietly. "Have you ever snuck footage of anyone?"
"You mean like fashion-slammers? No way. That's totally unkick."
"No, I don't mean shots of famous people. More like going undercover for a story."
"I'm not sure," Ren said, looking uncomfortable. He was a tech-kicker; his feed was filled with more hardware designs and interface mods than people stories. "The City Council keeps changing their minds about it. They don't want to get all Rusty, with people owning information and stuff. But nobody likes all those feeds that just show people cheating on their partners. Or fashion-slammers making fun of clothes and surge."
"Yeah, everyone hates those feeds. Except the zillions of people who watch them."
"Hmm. You should probably ask Hiro. He keeps up with that stuff." Aya glanced at her brother, who was deep in a feed-trance, absorbing all twelve screens at once, no doubt plotting his big follow-up to immortality. Not the right moment to mention her new story, especially since that would mean bringing up a certain missing hovercam.
"Maybe not right now," she said. "So what are you working on?"
"Nothing huge," he said. "This middle-pretty science clique asked me for a kick. They've got some merits but no face. They're trying to recreate all those species the Rusties erased, you know? From old scraps of DNA and junk genes."
"Really?" Aya said. "That sounds totally kickable!"
"Yeah, till it turned out they're starting with worms and slugs and insects. I was like, 'Worms? Let me know when you get to tigers!'" He laughed. "I saw your underground graffiti story, by the way. Good work."
"Really?" Aya felt herself blush. "You thought those guys were interesting?"
"They will be," Hiro murmured from his chair, "in about a thousand years, when their work gets unburied."
Ren smiled, whispering, "See? Hiro watches your feed too."
"Not that she returns the favor," Hiro said, his eyes never leaving the wallscreen.
"So what are you kicking next, Aya-chan?" Ren asked.
"Well, it's kind of a secret right now."
"A secret?" Hiro said. "Ooh, mysterious."
Aya sighed. She'd come here to ask for Hiro's help, but he obviously wasn't in a help-giving mood. He was going to be insufferable now that he'd reached the top thousand. Maybe it was pointless anyway. She wasn't even sure that the Sly Girls would keep their promise and contact her, or how to find them again if they didn't.
"Don't worry, Aya-chan," Ren said. "We won't tell anybody."
"Well…okay. Have you guys ever heard of the Sly Girls?"
Ren glanced at Hiro, who turned slowly in his chair to face her. A strange expression had appeared on
"Yeah, it's supposed to be the brave new horizon of human interaction," Hiro muttered from his chair. "But they just babble about their feelings all day."
"Friend of mine tried it for a week," Ren said. "He said it's very boredom-killing. Turns out if you never lie, there's always someone mad at you."
Hiro and Ren laughed, and the two of them went back to analyzing the other feeds, watching the kickers' ranks rise and fall. The software religion was a flop—Gamma-sensei had lost face all morning. But the poodle was working, as funny-looking animals usually did, sending the Nameless One all the way up to sixty-three, one notch above the mayor.
Aya kept silent, staring at the corner of the screen Frizz had briefly occupied. She was trying to remember every word he'd said to her—that he'd liked her randomly generated nose, thought she was mysterious, and wanted to know her full name.
And he hadn't been lying about any of it.
Of course, when he found out that she didn't have such great taste in randomly generated noses—that she'd just been born with it, because she was an ugly and a party-crashing extra—what would he say then? He wouldn't even be polite about it. The honesty surge would make him show his disappointment about their difference in ambition…
Unless she wasn't an extra by then.
"Hey, Ren," she asked quietly. "Have you ever snuck footage of anyone?"
"You mean like fashion-slammers? No way. That's totally unkick."
"No, I don't mean shots of famous people. More like going undercover for a story."
"I'm not sure," Ren said, looking uncomfortable. He was a tech-kicker; his feed was filled with more hardware designs and interface mods than people stories. "The City Council keeps changing their minds about it. They don't want to get all Rusty, with people owning information and stuff. But nobody likes all those feeds that just show people cheating on their partners. Or fashion-slammers making fun of clothes and surge."
"Yeah, everyone hates those feeds. Except the zillions of people who watch them."
"Hmm. You should probably ask Hiro. He keeps up with that stuff." Aya glanced at her brother, who was deep in a feed-trance, absorbing all twelve screens at once, no doubt plotting his big follow-up to immortality. Not the right moment to mention her new story, especially since that would mean bringing up a certain missing hovercam.
"Maybe not right now," she said. "So what are you working on?"
"Nothing huge," he said. "This middle-pretty science clique asked me for a kick. They've got some merits but no face. They're trying to recreate all those species the Rusties erased, you know? From old scraps of DNA and junk genes."
"Really?" Aya said. "That sounds totally kickable!"
"Yeah, till it turned out they're starting with worms and slugs and insects. I was like, 'Worms? Let me know when you get to tigers!'" He laughed. "I saw your underground graffiti story, by the way. Good work."
"Really?" Aya felt herself blush. "You thought those guys were interesting?"
"They will be," Hiro murmured from his chair, "in about a thousand years, when their work gets unburied."
Ren smiled, whispering, "See? Hiro watches your feed too."
"Not that she returns the favor," Hiro said, his eyes never leaving the wallscreen.
"So what are you kicking next, Aya-chan?" Ren asked.
"Well, it's kind of a secret right now."
"A secret?" Hiro said. "Ooh, mysterious."
Aya sighed. She'd come here to ask for Hiro's help, but he obviously wasn't in a help-giving mood. He was going to be insufferable now that he'd reached the top thousand. Maybe it was pointless anyway. She wasn't even sure that the Sly Girls would keep their promise and contact her, or how to find them again if they didn't.
"Don't worry, Aya-chan," Ren said. "We won't tell anybody."
"Well…okay. Have you guys ever heard of the Sly Girls?"
Ren glanced at Hiro, who turned slowly in his chair to face her. A strange expression had appeared on
Similar Books
The Doomsday Machine (Horatio Lyle)
Catherine Webb
Children of Junk (Rogue Star Book 3)
James Wisher
Now and Again
Brenda Rothert
Wild Angels: A Biker Erotic Romance
Ellen Graves
Victory Lane (Shady Falls #1)
Shelly Davis
Savor the Danger
Lori Foster
Cold
John Smolens
Waterdance
Anne Logston
The Marrying Man
Barbara Bretton
The Irish Duchess
Patricia Rice