changing texts, altering them, shouting to humanity to pay attention. Pioneers who risked everything learned how to take these altered texts and work miracles. They opened doorways into the world of narrative and traveled back and forth. They became known as Spinners. And she was one of them.
Krista fingered the prayer spell. It was tied with a tiny vermillion ribbon. She pulled it tighter. What she could do now as a Spinner, though, made those early attempts look like child’s play.
She was responsible for an entire archive of in-V-created objects like literature, visual art, music, etc. These pieces were created by constructed characters—persons without true legal representation. But their artifacts were electric with bleedover potential. An entire covert industry developed from a heated arm-race attempting to create new technologies for real-world service. And Krista was at the forefront. Everything she did, she did for the good of humanity. She had never sold a piece of lore for personal gain. What she handed over to her superiors she did so because she believed in their mission. That’s what she told herself to sleep at night.
She closed her fist around the roll as three figures emerged out of the darkness. They were dressed in the ceremonial outfits of a Voxyprog soldier: armored bodysuits, pressure helmets, goggles around their necks. Each one carried a wicked sidearm on the hip. They also were enhanced physically to tower over people like Krista.
“Inspector Cole,” the center soldier said. She was a broad-shouldered woman, thick in the neck—sure sign of a physio package. She looked like she could crush stones with those hands. “A word.”
Another figure emerged from behind her, this one dressed in a flowing crimson robe brocaded in gold at the neck and sleeves. An older man, shriveled up like a raisin, but spry. His head was bald, his eye sockets sunken, his cheek bones prominent peaks in his face.
Krista recognized, Pizer Dauk, now a senior Voxyprog intelligence officer by the medallion he wore on a chain around his neck. She was staring at the very man Tripp had verified was running a secret operation to insert Ervé Wrighter into Collides .
All of Krista’s intel had warned her that the host was in jeopardy. She hadn’t known from whom, and when Hark said he had to enter Collides for reasons he wouldn’t tell, she knew Pizer was involved. Tripp had just confirmed it, and verified that Miesha Preston was involved. Now that Ervé was involved, she feared she was dealing with something much larger than some minor bleedover between Rend-Vs. Hark had defeated Ervé in a prior narrative, and Ervé held a grudge.
“I had a feeling you’d be coming,” he said
“Here I am.” Krista led him back into shadow, leaving the guards behind. She slipped the prayer roll into a pocket. “ Collides is doing well, no?”
Pizer nodded. “I’m guessing you’re part of the unauthorized intrusions.”
“We’re trying to help.”
Pizer’s head cocked. “You Spinners … do more than help.”
“This time, it’s straight up protection of the V, and our assets inside. Hark has his own reasons. But don’t pretend you aren’t aware of why I’m involved.”
“You know,” he asked, “why your brother has risked everything to find the host?”
“Intelligence is still coming in. We found your own unauthorized insertions. I wonder what your bosses would think of your little project to flip the V?” Pizer tilted his head in the perennial sign of touché . She said, “We know Miesha’s involved. And Ervé.”
“She’s brilliant. And he’s deep as we speak. He moves fast, that one.”
“And he’s going after the host. Why would you encourage that?”
Krista watched a subtle touch of emotion ripple across Pizer’s face. The old Sersavant had been a Voxyprog for too long, his initiation into the techno mysteries happening decades ago, if the rumors were true. Krista had met him when
Krista fingered the prayer spell. It was tied with a tiny vermillion ribbon. She pulled it tighter. What she could do now as a Spinner, though, made those early attempts look like child’s play.
She was responsible for an entire archive of in-V-created objects like literature, visual art, music, etc. These pieces were created by constructed characters—persons without true legal representation. But their artifacts were electric with bleedover potential. An entire covert industry developed from a heated arm-race attempting to create new technologies for real-world service. And Krista was at the forefront. Everything she did, she did for the good of humanity. She had never sold a piece of lore for personal gain. What she handed over to her superiors she did so because she believed in their mission. That’s what she told herself to sleep at night.
She closed her fist around the roll as three figures emerged out of the darkness. They were dressed in the ceremonial outfits of a Voxyprog soldier: armored bodysuits, pressure helmets, goggles around their necks. Each one carried a wicked sidearm on the hip. They also were enhanced physically to tower over people like Krista.
“Inspector Cole,” the center soldier said. She was a broad-shouldered woman, thick in the neck—sure sign of a physio package. She looked like she could crush stones with those hands. “A word.”
Another figure emerged from behind her, this one dressed in a flowing crimson robe brocaded in gold at the neck and sleeves. An older man, shriveled up like a raisin, but spry. His head was bald, his eye sockets sunken, his cheek bones prominent peaks in his face.
Krista recognized, Pizer Dauk, now a senior Voxyprog intelligence officer by the medallion he wore on a chain around his neck. She was staring at the very man Tripp had verified was running a secret operation to insert Ervé Wrighter into Collides .
All of Krista’s intel had warned her that the host was in jeopardy. She hadn’t known from whom, and when Hark said he had to enter Collides for reasons he wouldn’t tell, she knew Pizer was involved. Tripp had just confirmed it, and verified that Miesha Preston was involved. Now that Ervé was involved, she feared she was dealing with something much larger than some minor bleedover between Rend-Vs. Hark had defeated Ervé in a prior narrative, and Ervé held a grudge.
“I had a feeling you’d be coming,” he said
“Here I am.” Krista led him back into shadow, leaving the guards behind. She slipped the prayer roll into a pocket. “ Collides is doing well, no?”
Pizer nodded. “I’m guessing you’re part of the unauthorized intrusions.”
“We’re trying to help.”
Pizer’s head cocked. “You Spinners … do more than help.”
“This time, it’s straight up protection of the V, and our assets inside. Hark has his own reasons. But don’t pretend you aren’t aware of why I’m involved.”
“You know,” he asked, “why your brother has risked everything to find the host?”
“Intelligence is still coming in. We found your own unauthorized insertions. I wonder what your bosses would think of your little project to flip the V?” Pizer tilted his head in the perennial sign of touché . She said, “We know Miesha’s involved. And Ervé.”
“She’s brilliant. And he’s deep as we speak. He moves fast, that one.”
“And he’s going after the host. Why would you encourage that?”
Krista watched a subtle touch of emotion ripple across Pizer’s face. The old Sersavant had been a Voxyprog for too long, his initiation into the techno mysteries happening decades ago, if the rumors were true. Krista had met him when
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