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Twilight. The world gone to silver and black. The air is harsh and fresh. So cold it burns down my throat. A noise to the left. My ears twitch and I raise my muzzle, stiff with frozen blood and feathers. Rustling in the undergrowth. My jaws grasp the grey goose's neck again. Running, looking for more peace in which to eat. Hunting dogs burst the cover. A growl begins, muffled beneath swaying, frozen flesh. Open ground ahead. Hubbard emerges, shotgun levelled...
[[external interference]]
[[hardware stasis disrupted]]
"Dulcie! Come out of there, for fuck's sake! You're half an hour late for your shift already!" Pushing aside VR gear, I stare at Luce as she shakes my shoulder. For a moment, I feel the blood stiffening in my fur and smell the must and iron rusting scent of the old grey goose. "Really, Dulcie. Stop staring at me like that. You look like you'll be tearing out my throat next."
Blinking.
"Sorry, Luce. The interface is twice as good this time. I added more aural feedback, not in a continuous loop, but permutating across the full range..." Still blinking, I recognise the familiar, glazed expression.
"Whatever, Dulcie. You're half an hour late for your shift and I'm not covering for you any more." With a smirk intending to convey financial and academic ruin, she leaves the cramped staff room followed by my parting "bitch, normal bitch", in a coward's whisper, of course. My still-adjusting eyes take in the noon sunshine. Shit. I push my jury-rigged VR equipment into my bag and shuffle down the hallway towards the lab.
[Dulcinea Carew A610 77321B]
[[SECURITY CODE ACCEPTED.]]
[[PROCEED.]]
Gods, I hate the sun, even in its pale, washed glory. It's not as if I'm standing in the desert, surrounded by nothing but yellow sand and white-eyed Ra-the-sun-god, but I hate him all the same. All that is light and aboveground. All that is fashionable and smug. Give me the night, when style is meaningless and only cold, hard edges smile benevolently from above. Give me, as my son says, the BTL, the better-than-life. Not, of course, to be mistaken with a B.L.T...
[[NEAR INFRARED CAMERA ONLINE.]]
[[KECK DATA INCOMING.]]
Numbers stream from the top of my vision to beneath my line of sight. Why can't these numbers be my bank account? Then I could join the top ten, no longer using home-made VR gear and stealing electricity from Oxford's Astrophysics department. Gee, I could finally afford my very own CICI plug and leave this world altogether...
[[NGC7752 INFRARED WAVELENGTH COMPARISON COMPLETE.]]
[[PROCEED?]]
Frowning. Yes, you bastard computer, proceed...
[[M87 COMPARISON INITIATED.]]
What!? Oh, shit! Who's changed the Local Group sampling? No, you fucking computer! Not the Virgo Cluster...
[[YOU WILL CURSE.]]
[[THE DAY.]]
[[YOU DID NOT DO.]]
[[ALL THAT THE PHANTOM.]]
[[ASKED OF YOU.]]
Jenna Manley, 17/05/01
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