Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Warhead - Andrew Cartmel [84]
It was a new version of MacPet that was circulating among the grade 9 kids. The computer game displayed colour graphics on the inside screen of Vincent’s gaming helmet, filling his field of vision. The opening sequence showed him a stream of beautiful faces of women, movie‐star faces, all smiling, all radiant with health. They flashed across his vision, the images changing with almost subliminal rapidity.
Then the screen changed to a background of gleaming red crushed velvet and a menu appeared.
Select hair colour.
Vincent chose Blonde.
Select eye colour, said the menu.
Vincent chose Blue.
Select behaviour.
Three long menus followed this, with submenus attached. Vincent scanned them and chose Submissive/zany.
Select surroundings.
Vincent paused and considered. The options on offer included Bed, Bathtub, Tropical Lagoon, Elevator, Backseat of Car and Abandoned Warehouse.
Vincent selected Elevator and set the program running.
Immediately he knew that something was wrong. There was a loud splashing sound, in lifelike stereo, and the image before his eyes distorted, giving an illusion of movement, as if his face was being dragged up through water. And then he broke surface. The computer graphics were amazingly convincing. Vincent stared around himself, the screen image tracking with him in virtually perfect 3-D. The bathroom was presented in beautiful detail, right down to the cracks on the tiles and the tiny froth of bubbles riding the agitated swell of the bathwater.
But, damn it, he hadn’t selected Bathtub. And here he was, slopping around in hot water with the girl.
And the girl was all wrong. She was lovely and she was naked, all right. But she was dark‐haired rather than blonde and she didn’t have the standard busty MacPet physique. Water shone on her smooth brown shoulders and her sleek muscular stomach. A dark brown disc of nipple flashed across his vision as the girl leaned over him. She was crouching in the bathtub, dragging him up out of the water. He studied the movements of a smooth brown forearm slick with hot water. The computer graphics really were lifelike. But there was definitely something wrong. Her skin wasn’t perfect. Vincent could see a broad purple bruise on one shoulder, a flash of dark hair under her arm as she reached for him.
Clearly this was some kind of cheap pirate software. Maybe a Korean copy of the real MacPet game. And yet, he found it oddly exciting. Vincent decided to relax and enjoy the game anyway. He reached out to touch one small brown computer graphic breast.
He was shocked at the sensation of touching warm taut skin.
And he was amazed at how hard the girl hit him.
* * *
The Doctor hurried up the stairs and along the frayed ragged carpeting in the hallway. He stopped and looked in through the open door of the bathroom. The entire expanse of the tiled floor was awash. Ace was kneeling in the half‐empty tub, bent over the pale boy. The Doctor cleared his throat and Ace turned to look at him.
‘Oh, yes, I forgot,’ said the Doctor. ‘Be careful he doesn’t drown.’
‘No shit,’ said Ace.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Well, he’s definitely recovering.’ She climbed out of the tub and began towelling her hair. They looked down at the boy, lying back in the old enamelled bathtub, head safely above the water level now. His eyes were shut and thin strings of water were running out of his nose and mouth.
‘He’s gone back to sleep.’
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘He’ll have intermittent flashes of wakefulness followed by periods of sleep until he recovers fully from the effects of the gel.’
‘Which is when?’ said Ace. She reached down into the bath‐water between the boy’s feet and pulled the plug. The tub began to drain with moist gurgling sounds.
‘A day or so,’ said the Doctor. ‘Plenty of time before we leave.’
‘Leave?’ said Ace.
‘Good idea, emptying the bathwater. We’ll just let him lie there until he dries off.’ The Doctor turned and left the