Next

by Michele deBes

Next. The small icon flashed blue. Her hand was trembling but she willed it into action and pressed firmly.

A small tone sounded. A pleasant buzzing at the base of her skull, a slight blooming of colour intensity, were the only sensual indications that the download was underway. She watched the grey band slowly filling with red.

A blinking alarm in her body stats caught her eye.

Respiration creeping up towards hyper. She eased it back, feeling the tension dissipate and her movements slowly steady.

This is routine stuff, I do it all the time, a little bigger than normal but…

Next.

Her breath caught and she swore. More levels peaked and she made the adjustments quickly, her knowledge comforting her. So far this was all to be expected. She scanned the options but knew the complete installation was the one she wanted. It would mean a full shutdown, something she’d only experienced in the capable hands of a therapist. But no professional would touch this job.

She pressed next.

A small tone sounded, a pleasant buzzing at the base of her skull increasing rapidly until her teeth jittered together. Colour ripped from every edge, smearing her displays into an insensible whirl.

Breath Relax Breath Relax. It was all she could do now as she felt her world disappear under a mountain of new Thinkware.

Finish. All was black around her and the icon beckoned cool and steady. Ragged breathing and heart thumps filled her ears, and she took the time to steady herself. That should be the worst of it. Her hand rose smoothly and she admired the sharper resolution already at work . When she pressed Finish, the letters felt rough and she smiled.

A small tone, a draining sensation, then nothing.

Her eyes opened slowly and it was a moment before she could focus on the ceiling. Start, yes the icon was there. A warm hand slipped across her belly, rested hot in her sweat for a moment then slid away.

“Hard night at work?” His soft voice brought no memory of his face.

She swallowed. “Yes how’s the… the…”

“Game? I’m winning. I’ll just finish this round.” He said rolling away as she rose on her elbow.

That’s right, he was a gamer, a rich one. His long hair covered his cheek, the lights from his console blinking behind his head, and still she couldn’t picture his face. Without her Thinkware the world seemed flat, actual, there was no meaning beyond the visual. She shuddered and settled back down closing her eyes.

Time was running out and she had planned on making her move before turning on, but there was no way she wanted to be stuck in this limbo.
The start icon stood out bright and demanding and she didn’t hesitate this time.

A cascade of small bells sounded.

“Welcome to Thinkware.” said a light masculine voice. “To begin optimisation press next.”

Her hand shot out eagerly now and pressed the glistening gold icon. She took the quick default option just to get a few essentials working and when she was satisfied she opened her eyes. It had still taken another half an hour. Focus came quickly this time, her displays neatly arranged down each side of her peripheral vision.

Sitting up took unexpected effort but she decided to forgo the required resting period and she turned off her connection to the console and eased off the lounge. A quick shower turned into a long one as the hot water burned through all her lingering doubts. The apartment was large and she moved quietly and methodically collecting her few things, slipping on her clothes she found draped over the expensive furniture. She hadn’t needed them much. For three days they either made love or logged on and already the large, airy rooms felt like home. He was nice, gentle. She had a knack of picking the trusting ones.

Time to leave. The high heals of her boots clicked on the polished floors but he didn’t stir.

She took the elevator down to the street her hands doing a quick check. The stunner under her arm, the two throwing knives nestled against her kidneys, various gadgets in the pockets of her long charcoal coat, the chemcaps in each boot. She soothed down her tight black skirt, slipped on her sunnis and stepped out into the grey deserted street.

New peripheral detected requiring integration. Press next to proceed.
“Damn” she said and stepped back against the door. She’d need the sunnis map overlay to find her way across town. Press next, she said internally, and another box popped up almost straight away.

Rayban Series Aroura 2.5 with customised filtering, a nice choice. Integration complete.

“What? Nice choice?” she wondered but she didn’t have time to ponder the quirks of her new Thinkware. She left the doorway noticing how smoothly her sunnies adjusted to the change in light. Map overlay eased in at her request. It’s directions and info panels unobtrusive but perfectly legible across her field of vision.

This is better, much better.

Back, deep in the game, just when he had the Martian death droid cornered, all action froze. Pain flared in his every synapse and a cold voice rang out.

Where is Devena Prose?

The penthouse apartment was unfurnished and she liked it that way. Some people thought it was the items that made the home valuable but it was the space. Space was at a premium in this crowded city. She allowed herself one piece of expensive furniture, a state of the art Link Lounge.

It had been a gruelling 24 hours hitting the Link Booths around town with their slow connections, but she finally organised a clean line of credit thanks to her new suite of tools aptly named ‘Insecure’.

The pressure was off now and she had time to enjoy the luxury of organising her life again.

Most important things first. Shopping.

She made herself comfortable on the lounge and activated the link. Fabrics had never looked so rich and exotic with her new Thinkware and she spent more than she anticipated.

But why not, it wasn’t her money and now she had access to the bottomless financial well.

Over a cup of spiced tea, she scanned the news channels, before a face caught her attention. It was her lover, the gamer, smiling out in 3D and she wondered how she could have forgotten those features. His hair was shorter but there was no mistaking his blue eyes. She pressed for more info.

The self styled game mogul and philanthropist, Malcolm Chase, went missing from his home 24 hours ago. As yet there has been no ransom demands.

Deveena went cold to her bones. There would be no ransom note.

This news report was a private message to her. It said, I know you, I know how you think, I know what you want. Come and get it. I’ll be waiting.