Read Online The Intruder by Greg Krehbiel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Greg Krehbiel
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you loose as soon as I can. I'm obligated by law to keep you under supervision for at least a week."
Jeremy sighed. "Okay. I'm not thrilled with the idea, but if that's the way it's gotta be ...."
Dr. Berry grimaced and nodded. "I'm afraid so. If you want to get an implant as an adult, those are the rules."
Promises, promises.
Well, maybe that's the end of it. If I don't see those things again, it really doesn't matter if she can monitor me for the next week.
Curiosity would have to wait. The prospect of Dr. Berry suspecting that he had implant psychosis was worth putting it all behind him. Submitting himself to the care of a psychiatrist was about the scariest thing Jeremy could imagine, since they had the ability to take away his independence -- even independent thinking -- with their "therapy."
* * *
Jeremy had the rest of the day free, and nothing much to do. He didn't know anyone to meet for lunch, or, for that matter, any idea where to go. And besides all that, his late breakfast made lunch seem unnecessary.
He absentmindedly checked the university site on his implant, just to look for inspiration, and noticed a reference to the Washington subway system. The visual effect as he moved from one hole site to another took some getting used to. The implant desktop remained motionless, floating a few feet in front of him, at head level, just to the left, but the graphic display of most sites had 3-D elements. If he watched the display too closely as he was linking to another site, it seemed as if he was moving through his implant desktop. Images flowed off the screen as if he was flying toward, and then past them.
Viewing the hole location for the subway was an experience somewhere between watching a model train and riding in one. When Jeremy queried the site on how to get from the university to the Armory and Alehouse, a video showed a map of the city, highlighting each location. It zoomed in on the stop closest to the university, showing what the street entrance looked like, how frequently the trains ran, with a host of related video clips, including a view of the tunnels as the train sped down the track.
Hovercars accounted for most area traffic, but the subway still moved a substantial portion of the local population. The cars were clean, and the fare was less than half the going rate on a hovershuttle.
Since it was the middle of the day, traffic was light. Jeremy called up a few hole pictures of Metro operations during rush hour and was glad he had missed it. Things were never that crowded in the Community, except maybe at the Spring dance.
Jeremy descended the entrance tunnel and waited on the platform. A silver and black train arrived in a few minutes. As he got aboard and glanced around at the passengers, something caught his eye. A fiber of insulation from the overhead panel dangled down from the ceiling, a machine screw caught on its end. It was the first sign of disrepair Jeremy had seen in any public facility, and he knew that it wouldn't last long. A cleaning robot would eliminate the string and report the misplaced screw to maintenance.
He watched the screw as the subway car sped through the tunnels. It swayed to one side, then the other, as the car took a wavy path to the next stop.
At the next stop, Jeremy watched the passengers get on and off. The man in the flight jacket brushed past the woman in the blue coat, seemingly unconcerned that she had a conscience, and a soul, or that a bright word might make the difference between hope and despair. Few made eye contact, and no one spoke. But Jeremy saw the loneliness in the woman's eyes and thought he'd break taboo and speak to her. He rose from his seat and headed in her direction, and then noticed something funny a few meters ahead of him on the train. It made his heart stop.
It was the form of a man, floating horizontally in the air -- another of his ghosts. It lay just above and
Jeremy sighed. "Okay. I'm not thrilled with the idea, but if that's the way it's gotta be ...."
Dr. Berry grimaced and nodded. "I'm afraid so. If you want to get an implant as an adult, those are the rules."
Promises, promises.
Well, maybe that's the end of it. If I don't see those things again, it really doesn't matter if she can monitor me for the next week.
Curiosity would have to wait. The prospect of Dr. Berry suspecting that he had implant psychosis was worth putting it all behind him. Submitting himself to the care of a psychiatrist was about the scariest thing Jeremy could imagine, since they had the ability to take away his independence -- even independent thinking -- with their "therapy."
* * *
Jeremy had the rest of the day free, and nothing much to do. He didn't know anyone to meet for lunch, or, for that matter, any idea where to go. And besides all that, his late breakfast made lunch seem unnecessary.
He absentmindedly checked the university site on his implant, just to look for inspiration, and noticed a reference to the Washington subway system. The visual effect as he moved from one hole site to another took some getting used to. The implant desktop remained motionless, floating a few feet in front of him, at head level, just to the left, but the graphic display of most sites had 3-D elements. If he watched the display too closely as he was linking to another site, it seemed as if he was moving through his implant desktop. Images flowed off the screen as if he was flying toward, and then past them.
Viewing the hole location for the subway was an experience somewhere between watching a model train and riding in one. When Jeremy queried the site on how to get from the university to the Armory and Alehouse, a video showed a map of the city, highlighting each location. It zoomed in on the stop closest to the university, showing what the street entrance looked like, how frequently the trains ran, with a host of related video clips, including a view of the tunnels as the train sped down the track.
Hovercars accounted for most area traffic, but the subway still moved a substantial portion of the local population. The cars were clean, and the fare was less than half the going rate on a hovershuttle.
Since it was the middle of the day, traffic was light. Jeremy called up a few hole pictures of Metro operations during rush hour and was glad he had missed it. Things were never that crowded in the Community, except maybe at the Spring dance.
Jeremy descended the entrance tunnel and waited on the platform. A silver and black train arrived in a few minutes. As he got aboard and glanced around at the passengers, something caught his eye. A fiber of insulation from the overhead panel dangled down from the ceiling, a machine screw caught on its end. It was the first sign of disrepair Jeremy had seen in any public facility, and he knew that it wouldn't last long. A cleaning robot would eliminate the string and report the misplaced screw to maintenance.
He watched the screw as the subway car sped through the tunnels. It swayed to one side, then the other, as the car took a wavy path to the next stop.
At the next stop, Jeremy watched the passengers get on and off. The man in the flight jacket brushed past the woman in the blue coat, seemingly unconcerned that she had a conscience, and a soul, or that a bright word might make the difference between hope and despair. Few made eye contact, and no one spoke. But Jeremy saw the loneliness in the woman's eyes and thought he'd break taboo and speak to her. He rose from his seat and headed in her direction, and then noticed something funny a few meters ahead of him on the train. It made his heart stop.
It was the form of a man, floating horizontally in the air -- another of his ghosts. It lay just above and
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