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Authors: Tad Williams
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"I'm sorry, Renie. I'm really sorry. Really. Could I try Soki again?" Without waiting for permission, he turned to the wall-screen and told it to call. No one answered at Soki's end.
Renie tried to rein in her temper. "What was this about Soki falling down a hole?"
Stephen drummed his fingers nervously on the table. "Eddie dared him."
"Dared him to do what? Damn it, Stephen, don't make me drag this out of you word by word."
"There's this room in Mister J's. Some guys from school told us about it. They have . . . well, there's things in there that are real chizz."
"Things? What things?"
"Just . . . things. Stuff to see." Stephen wouldn't meet her eyes. "But we didn't see it, Renie. We couldn't find it. The club is major big on the inside-you wouldn't believe it! It goes on forever!" For a moment his eyes sparkled as, remembering the glory that was Mister J's, he forgot that he was in serious trouble. A look at his sister's face reminded him. "Anyway, we were looking and looking, and we asked people-I think they were mostly Citizens, but some acted really weird-but no one could tell us. Then someone, this far major fat guy, said you could get in through this room down in the basement."
Renie suppressed a shiver of distaste. "Before you tell me any more, young man, I want one thing clear. You are never going back to this place again. Understand? Look me in the eye. Never,"
Reluctantly, Stephen nodded. "Okay, okay. I won't. So we went down all these windy stairs-it was like a dungeon game!-and after a while found this door. Soki opened it and . . . fell through."
"Fell through what?"
"I don't know! It was just like a big hole on the other side. There was smoke and some blue lights down deep inside it."
Renie sat back in her chair. "Someone's nasty, sadistic little trick. You all deserved to be scared, but I hope it didn't scare him too much. Was he using bootleg SchoolNet equipment like you two?"
"No, Just his home setup. A cheap Nigerian station."
Which was what their own family owned. How could kids be poor and still be so damn snobbish?
"Well, then there won't have been much vertigo or gravity simulation. He'll be fine." She stared narrowly at Stephen. "You did hear me, didn't you? You're never going there again, or you will have no station time and no visits to Eddie or Soki forever-instead of just for the rest of the month."
"What?" Stephen leaped up in outrage. "No net?"
"End of the month. You're lucky I haven't told Dad-you'd be getting a belt across your troublesome black behind."
"I'd rather have that than no net," he said sullenly.
"You'd be getting both."
After she sent Stephen grumbling and complaining to his room, Renie accessed her work library-making sure that her inbox contained no memos from Ms. Bundazi about defrauding the Poly-and called up some files on Inner District businesses. She found Mister J's, registered as a "gaming and entertainment club" and licensed strictly for adult visitors. It was owned by something called the "Happy Juggler Novelty Corporation," and had first been opened under the name "Mister Jingo's Smile."
As she waited for sleep that night, she was visited by images of the club's ramshackle facade, of turrets like pointed idiot heads and windows like staring eyes. Hardest of all to escape was the memory of the huge mobile mouth and rows of gleaming teeth that squirmed above the door-a gateway that only led inward.
CHAPTER 2
The Airman
----
NETFEED/MUSIC: Drone "Bigger Than Ever."
(visual: one eye)
VO: Ganga Drone music will be "bigger than ever" this year, according to one of its leading practitioners.
(visual: half of face, glinting teeth)
Ayatollah Jones, who sings and plays neuro-cithara for the drone group Your First Heart Attack, told us:
JONES: "We . . . it's . . . gonna be . . . big. Mordo big. Bigger than. . . ."
(visual: fingers twining-many rings, cosmetic webbing)
JONES: ". . . Than ever. No dupping. Real big."
----
Christabel Sorensen was not
"I'm sorry, Renie. I'm really sorry. Really. Could I try Soki again?" Without waiting for permission, he turned to the wall-screen and told it to call. No one answered at Soki's end.
Renie tried to rein in her temper. "What was this about Soki falling down a hole?"
Stephen drummed his fingers nervously on the table. "Eddie dared him."
"Dared him to do what? Damn it, Stephen, don't make me drag this out of you word by word."
"There's this room in Mister J's. Some guys from school told us about it. They have . . . well, there's things in there that are real chizz."
"Things? What things?"
"Just . . . things. Stuff to see." Stephen wouldn't meet her eyes. "But we didn't see it, Renie. We couldn't find it. The club is major big on the inside-you wouldn't believe it! It goes on forever!" For a moment his eyes sparkled as, remembering the glory that was Mister J's, he forgot that he was in serious trouble. A look at his sister's face reminded him. "Anyway, we were looking and looking, and we asked people-I think they were mostly Citizens, but some acted really weird-but no one could tell us. Then someone, this far major fat guy, said you could get in through this room down in the basement."
Renie suppressed a shiver of distaste. "Before you tell me any more, young man, I want one thing clear. You are never going back to this place again. Understand? Look me in the eye. Never,"
Reluctantly, Stephen nodded. "Okay, okay. I won't. So we went down all these windy stairs-it was like a dungeon game!-and after a while found this door. Soki opened it and . . . fell through."
"Fell through what?"
"I don't know! It was just like a big hole on the other side. There was smoke and some blue lights down deep inside it."
Renie sat back in her chair. "Someone's nasty, sadistic little trick. You all deserved to be scared, but I hope it didn't scare him too much. Was he using bootleg SchoolNet equipment like you two?"
"No, Just his home setup. A cheap Nigerian station."
Which was what their own family owned. How could kids be poor and still be so damn snobbish?
"Well, then there won't have been much vertigo or gravity simulation. He'll be fine." She stared narrowly at Stephen. "You did hear me, didn't you? You're never going there again, or you will have no station time and no visits to Eddie or Soki forever-instead of just for the rest of the month."
"What?" Stephen leaped up in outrage. "No net?"
"End of the month. You're lucky I haven't told Dad-you'd be getting a belt across your troublesome black behind."
"I'd rather have that than no net," he said sullenly.
"You'd be getting both."
After she sent Stephen grumbling and complaining to his room, Renie accessed her work library-making sure that her inbox contained no memos from Ms. Bundazi about defrauding the Poly-and called up some files on Inner District businesses. She found Mister J's, registered as a "gaming and entertainment club" and licensed strictly for adult visitors. It was owned by something called the "Happy Juggler Novelty Corporation," and had first been opened under the name "Mister Jingo's Smile."
As she waited for sleep that night, she was visited by images of the club's ramshackle facade, of turrets like pointed idiot heads and windows like staring eyes. Hardest of all to escape was the memory of the huge mobile mouth and rows of gleaming teeth that squirmed above the door-a gateway that only led inward.
CHAPTER 2
The Airman
----
NETFEED/MUSIC: Drone "Bigger Than Ever."
(visual: one eye)
VO: Ganga Drone music will be "bigger than ever" this year, according to one of its leading practitioners.
(visual: half of face, glinting teeth)
Ayatollah Jones, who sings and plays neuro-cithara for the drone group Your First Heart Attack, told us:
JONES: "We . . . it's . . . gonna be . . . big. Mordo big. Bigger than. . . ."
(visual: fingers twining-many rings, cosmetic webbing)
JONES: ". . . Than ever. No dupping. Real big."
----
Christabel Sorensen was not
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