Read Online Rift by Richard Cox - Free Book Online Page B

before.
    â€œNow you’re picking on me.”
    She pats my hand. “I’m sorry, Cameron. Ever since I heard about your machine I’ve thought it would be cool to try it. I guess I’m a little jealous of you.”
    â€œEven though you read rumors about animals coming through scrambled?”
    â€œAh, who knows if that’s true? You read all kinds of garbage. In fact, according to some of the posts to alt.transmit.conspiracy, mystery man over there is a covert agent watching to see if you go berserk.”
    â€œâ€˜Alt.transmit.conspiracy’?”
    â€œYou bet. Of course, it’s hard to know what to believe.”
    â€œI don’t understand. If this is common knowledge on the underground Internet, you’d think
60 Minutes
or something like that would be all over it.”
    â€œYou think they would let the news media ruin their precious little invention?”
    â€œThey? Who is they?”
    â€œWhoever is paying to develop the technology.”
    â€œHow could ‘they’ conceal bad transmissions from the press? That sounds a little hard to believe.”
    â€œNot really. Guys with power—I mean
real
power—can do whatever they want. It’s like a network—government leaders, corporate chairmen, televangelists—they’re society’s demigods, only instead of Mount Olympus they have Aspen. Or Switzerland. Or the Caym—”
    â€œSounds like you’ve thought about this before.”
    â€œSure I have. I mean, a lot of people would say, ‘She’s just an erotic dancer. What does she know?’ And maybe they have a right to, because my line of work isn’t exactly the noblest vocation in the world. But that’s what those big shots do to guys like you. Maybe you make a hundred thousand dollars a year, have a four-bedroom house, and say, ‘Hey, I’ve made it. I’m living the American dream.’ But still, the
really
big shots rule the food chain. You eat me for lunch, but they eat you.”
    â€œBeing an erotic dancer doesn’t mean anything when it comes to brains,” I say. “Sounds like you’re smarter than I am.”
    Her smile makes me feel like a pubescent boy. I could fall in love with those teeth, let alone the rest of her bodily wonders. But at the same time I can’t get past the fact that she’s familiar with NeuroStor and their transmission technology. I mean, how unlikely is that? How many others have the same information she does?
    â€œI just can’t believe you know about this. Imagine how much of a moron it makes me that
you
knew but
I
didn’t. I work there, for Christ’s sake!”
    â€œI wouldn’t beat yourself up over it, Cameron. I read all kinds of conspiracy shit. Usually it’s alien abduction and JFK assassination trivia and stuff like that. I didn’t even know for sure that the transmission thing was true until you verified it for me with that poker face of yours.”
    Crystal smiles at me as she finishes the strawberry daiquiri. She has beaten me and she knows it. I didn’t even know there was a contest.
    â€œBefore I forget,” she says, “why don’t you drop me a line when you get back to Houston? I’d really like to know how the return trip goes. You
are
going back the same way you came, right?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œHow long are you going to be in Phoenix?”
    â€œA couple of days.”
    â€œAnyway, my e-mail address is easy to remember: [email protected]. Spell the word
two
, don’t use the number.”
    â€œTwo peaks?”
    â€œIt’s a play on words. Sounds like my breasts, but actually I moved here from Flagstaff. The San Francisco Mountains are north of town, and we call the biggest one ‘The Peaks.’ It’s a private joke.”
    â€œThe San Francisco Mountains are in Arizona?”
    â€œYep. A couple hours north of here. It’s actually very