Rewired_ The Post-Cyberpunk Anthology - James Patrick Kelly [36]
“Thirty-two young souls ready to swim out of this world, into the bright shiny future,” went bright shiny Fearing. “The question is, how far into that future will their bodies take them? New worlds are theirs for the taking—a cornucopia of scapes to boggle and amaze and gratify the senses. These lucky kids will be immersed in an ocean of data overwhelming to their undernourished sensibilities — we’ve assembled a really brilliant collection of environments for them to explore — and you’ll be able to see everything they see, on the monitors in front of you. But can they make it in the fast lane? How long can they ride the wave? Which of them will prove able to outlast the others, and take home the big prize — one thousand dollars? That’s what we’re here to find out.”
Gilmartin and Ed were snapping everybody into their masks and turning all the switches to wire us up and getting us to lie down on the frames. It was comfortable on the bicycle seat with your head on the headrest and a belt around your waist. You could move your arms and legs like you were swimming, the way Fearing said. I didn’t mind putting on the mask now because the audience was making me nervous. A lot of them I couldn’t see because of the lights, but I could tell they were there, watching.
The mask covered my ears and eyes. Around my chin there was a strip of wire and tape. Inside it was dark and quiet at first except Fearing’s voice was still coming into the earphones.
“The rules are simple. Our contestants get a thirty-minute rest period every three hours. These kids’ll be well fed, don’t worry about that. Our doctor will monitor their health. You’ve heard the horror stories, but we’re a class outfit; you’ll see no horrors here. The kids earn the quality care we provide one way: continuous, waking engagement with the datastream. We’re firm on that. To sleep is to die — you can sleep on your own time, but not ours. One lapse, and you’re out of the game — them’s the rules.”
The earphones started to hum. I wished I could reach out and hold Gloria’s hand, but she was too far away.
“They’ll have no help from the floor judges, or one another, in locating the perceptual riches of cyberspace. Some will discover the keys that open the doors to a thousand worlds, others will bog down in the antechamber to the future. Anyone caught coaching during rest periods will be disqualified — no warnings, no second chances.”
Then Fearing’s voice dropped out, and the scapes started.
I was in a hallway. The walls were full of drawers, like a big cabinet that went on forever. The drawers had writing on them that I ignored. First I couldn’t move except my head, then I figured out how to walk, and just did that for a while. But I never got anywhere. It felt like I was walking in a giant circle, up the wall, across the ceiling, and then back down the other wall.
So I pulled open a drawer. It only looked big enough to hold some pencils or whatever but when I pulled, it opened like a door and I went through.
“Welcome to Intense Personals,” said a voice. There was just some colors to look at. The door closed behind me. “You must be eighteen years of age or older to use this service. To avoid any charges, please exit now.”
I didn’t exit because I didn’t know how. The space with colors was kind of small except it didn’t have any edges. But it felt small.
“This is the main menu. Please reach out and make one of the following selections: women seeking men, men seeking women, women seeking women, men seeking men, or alternatives.”
Each of them was a block of words in the air. I reached up and touched the first one.
“After each selection touch one to play the recording again, two to record a message for this person, or three to advance to the next selection. You may touch three at anytime to advance to the next selection, or four to return to the main menu.”
Then a woman came into the colored space with