Page 91 of Cruel Master
Quinn sniffs. “It was our code. It means she wants to game with me. In our VR world.”
In their VR world. Holy fuck.
Hope returns in a rush. If Candice can communicate anywhere, it will be in the space she built. “Oh my God. This might work.” I stare at the closed lab door. “But…shit…we can’t get in.”
Quinn shoots me a wicked grin that changes her face completely. The gloom that hung over her has dissolved, and excitement burns off her. “I can. Candice added me as a user. She might have neglected to tell Hadrian about that.”
She runs to the door and slaps her hand on the sensor, and the door slides open. Relief hits me in a cool wave as we rush inside.The place is cold, dead, and sterile, though the lights wink on as soon as we're through the door.
“So, what do we…”
I don’t need to finish my sentence, because Quinn is already moving. She pulls out two VR headsets and thrusts one in my direction. As I strap it on, she snaps out, “Computer, enter world, Quinn and Candice.” She pauses, then confidently adds, “Rainforest biome.”
In a quieter voice, she adds, “It was our favorite. If she’s anywhere…”
She lets it train off. At first, the VR headset switches into camera mode, showing me a clear picture of the lab. I turn my head, and it tracks perfectly. It’s extremely high quality.
The screen flicks to black, and I hold my breath. Maybe it won’t work. Maybe whoever is controlling the timer has already figured out what is happening. Maybe it’s too late for Hadrian. Maybe…
The screen flicks to life, and for a second, I forget everything except what is right in front of me. I’m in a glade in the middle of a lush green forest. And I’m fuckingthere. It’s not like the other VR simulations I’ve tried, fun but clearly a game. This is perfect.
I spin my head, and there’s no lag, no telltale fuzzing at the edge of the picture. Everything, from the bright flowers to the hanging vines, is absolutely real.
Holy good fuck. What games could I create with this technology?
Stop. Focus.
Next to me, Quinn’s voice calls out, “Candice?”
Her avatar is as detailed as the rest of the world. Just like Quinn, only taller, and dressed in a cavewoman outfit. Shestares around, electronic features twisted with anxiety. “Are you here?”
Please. Please. Please.
We stare at each other as we wait. I look down at my own electronic body. Jeans and a white T-shirt on an average frame. A basic model. I could create the most amazing characters here.
The silence stretches, and I speak to break it. “We’re here. What do we need to do?”
My body goes weak as a voice rings out in the silence. It’s harsh and electronic, like a basic text-to-speech program. “I can’t hide your absence much longer. Go to Hadrian’s desk. Underneath, there’s a safe. It holds the switch to reactivate my servers. It’s all physical. No AI can touch it. It has to be a person.”
Fuck, that’s smart. Exactly the sort of restraint on Candice’s power that would have helped convince me Hadrian was taking adequate precautions five years ago.
“Candice! Fuck.” Quinn sounds like she’s about to cry, but then she snaps out, “Computer, VR headsets to camera mode,” all business.
I blink to orient myself as the beautiful VR image dissolves into the plain lab again. Quinn moves before I do, folding herself under Hadrian’s desk. “It’s here!” I move to join her, but before I get there she yells, “Shit! It’s locked. It’s mechanical, an old-fashioned safe.”
My stomach twists as I shove myself under the desk next to Quinn. It’s there, a metal safe bolted to the wall, the sort of thing you’d hide your money and passports in. Hard to believe it holds the key to reigniting a person. Because that’s what Candice is. I’m getting more convinced of that with every passing second.
And this safe has two dials. One letters, one numbers. Shit. Double fucking shit. It could be anything. “Do you know the code?”
Candice’s emotionless voice comes back straight away. “No. I was hoping you would.”
God fucking dammit.
What codes are Hadrian’s go-to passwords? For a man with a perfect memory, he’s pretty basic. He always said passcodes were a waste of time, as any hacker with half a brain could get past them in seconds. He had much more complex layers of protection on his important devices.
His birthday? Worth a shot. I try it, and it fails. Not enough digits. I keep typing until I get a dull click. Two more. The code must need 8.
Quinn says, voice high and stressed, “You were married. Don’t you know?”
