Some people get refreshed a couple dozen times a year.
Not me. I hate the process. Not so much that I won’t participate in it.
Everyone who had serious philosophical1 conundra on that subject just,you know, died, a generation before. The Bitchun Society didn’t need toconvert its detractors, just outlive them.
The first time I died, it was not long after my sixtieth birthday. I wasSCUBA diving at Playa Coral, near Veradero, Cuba. Of course, I don’t rememberthe incident, but knowing my habits at that particular dive-siteand having read the dive-logs of my SCUBA-buddies4, I’ve reconstructedthe events.
I was eeling my way through the lobster-caves, with a borrowed bottleand mask. I’d also borrowed a wetsuit, but I wasn’t wearing it—theblood-temp salt water was balm, and I hated erecting5 barriers between itand my skin. The caves were made of coral and rocks, and they coiledand twisted like intestines6. Through each hole and around each corner,there was a hollow, rough sphere of surpassing, alien beauty. Giant lobstersskittered over the walls and through the holes. Schools of fish asbright as jewels darted7 and executed breath-taking precision maneuversas I disturbed their busy days. I do some of my best thinking under water,and I’m often slipping off into dangerous reverie at depth. Normally,my diving buddies ensure that I don’t hurt myself, but this time I gotaway from them, spidering forward into a tiny hole.
Where I got stuck.
My diving buddies were behind me, and I rapped on my bottle withthe hilt of my knife until one of them put a hand on my shoulder. Mybuddies saw what was up, and attempted to pull me loose, but my bottleand buoyancy-control vest were firmly wedged. The others exchangedhand signals, silently debating the best way to get me loose. Suddenly, I27was thrashing and kicking, and then I disappeared into the cave, minusmy vest and bottle. I’d apparently9 attempted to cut through my vest’sstraps and managed to sever10 the tube of my regulator. After inhaling11 ajolt of sea water, I’d thrashed free into the cave, rolling into a monstrouspatch of spindly fire-coral. I’d inhaled14 another lungful of water andkicked madly for a tiny hole in the cave’s ceiling, whence my buddies retrievedme shortly thereafter, drowned-blue except for the patchy redwelts from the stinging coral.
In those days, making a backup was a lot more complicated; the proceduretook most of a day, and had to be undertaken at a special clinic.
Luckily, I’d had one made just before I left for Cuba, a few weeks earlier.
My next-most-recent backup was three years old, dating from the completionof my second symphony.
They recovered me from backup and into a force-grown clone atToronto General. As far as I knew, I’d laid down in the backup clinic onemoment and arisen the next. It took most of a year to get over the feelingthat the whole world was putting a monstrous13 joke over on me, that thedrowned corpse15 I’d seen was indeed my own. In my mind, the rebirthwas figurative as well as literal—the missing time was enough that Ifound myself hard-pressed to socialize with my pre-death friends.
I told Dan the story during our first friendship, and he immediatelypounced on the fact that I’d gone to Disney World to spend a week sortingout my feelings, reinventing myself, moving to space, marrying acrazy lady. He found it very curious that I always rebooted myself atDisney World. When I told him that I was going to live there someday,he asked me if that would mean that I was done reinventing myself. Sometimes,as I ran my fingers through Lil’s sweet red curls, I thought ofthat remark and sighed great gusts17 of contentment and marveled thatmy friend Dan had been so prescient.
The next time I died, they’d improved the technology somewhat. I’dhad a massive stroke in my seventy-third year, collapsing18 on the ice inthe middle of a house-league hockey game. By the time they cut my helmetaway, the hematomae had crushed my brain into a pulpy19, blood-sottedmess. I’d been lax in backing up, and I lost most of a year. But theywoke me gently, with a computer-generated precis of the events of themissing interval20, and a counselor21 contacted me daily for a year until I feltat home again in my skin. Again, my life rebooted, and I found myself inDisney World, methodically flensing away the relationships I’d built andstarting afresh in Boston, living on the ocean floor and working the28heavy-metal harvesters, a project that led, eventually, to my Chem thesisat U of T.
After I was shot dead at the Tiki Room, I had the opportunity to appreciatethe great leaps that restores had made in the intervening tenyears. I woke in my own bed, instantly aware of the events that led up tomy third death as seen from various third-party POVs: security footagefrom the Adventureland cameras, synthesized memories extracted fromDan’s own backup, and a computer-generated fly-through of the scene. Iwoke feeling preternaturally calm and cheerful, and knowing that I feltthat way because of certain temporary neurotransmitter presets that hadbeen put in place when I was restored.
Dan and Lil sat at my bedside. Lil’s tired, smiling face was limnedwith hairs that had snuck loose of her ponytail. She took my hand andkissed the smooth knuckles23. Dan smiled beneficently at me and I wasseized with a warm, comforting feeling of being surrounded by peoplewho really loved me. I dug for words appropriate to the scene, decidedto wing it, opened my mouth and said, to my surprise, “I have to pee.”
Dan and Lil smiled at each other. I lurched out of the bed, naked, andthumped to the bathroom. My muscles were wonderfully limber, with abrand-new spring to them. After I flushed I leaned over and took hold ofmy ankles, then pulled my head right to the floor, feeling the marvelousflexibility of my back and legs and buttocks. A scar on my knee wasmissing, as were the many lines that had crisscrossed my fingers. When Ilooked in the mirror, I saw that my nose and earlobes were smaller andperkier. The familiar crow’s-feet and the frown-lines between my eyebrowswere gone. I had a day’s beard all over—head, face, pubis, arms,legs. I ran my hands over my body and chuckled26 at the ticklish27 newnessof it all. I was briefly28 tempted8 to depilate all over, just to keep this feelingof newness forever, but the neurotransmitter presets were evaporatingand a sense of urgency over my murder was creeping up on me.
I tied a towel around my waist and made my way back to the bedroom.
The smells of tile-cleaner and flowers and rejuve were bright inmy nose, effervescent as camphor. Dan and Lil stood when I came intothe room and helped me to the bed. “Well, this sucks,” I said.
I’d gone straight from the uplink through the utilidors—three quickcuts of security cam footage, one at the uplink, one in the corridor, andone at the exit in the underpass between Liberty Square and Adventureland.
I seemed bemused and a little sad as I emerged from the door, andbegan to weave my way through the crowd, using a kind of sinuous,29darting shuffle29 that I’d developed when I was doing field-work on mycrowd-control thesis. I cut rapidly through the lunchtime crowd towardthe long roof of the Tiki Room, thatched with strips of shimmering30 aluminumcut and painted to look like long grass.
Fuzzy shots now, from Dan’s POV, of me moving closer to him,passing close to a group of teenaged girls with extra elbows and knees,wearing environmentally controlled cloaks and cowls covered with EpcotCenter logomarks. One of them is wearing a pith helmet, from theJungle Traders shop outside of the Jungle Cruise. Dan’s gaze flicks31 away,to the Tiki Room’s entrance, where there is a short queue of older men,then back, just as the girl with the pith helmet draws a stylish32 little organicpistol, like a penis with a tail that coils around her arm. Casually,grinning, she raises her arm and gestures with the pistol, exactly like Lildoes with her finger when she’s uploading, and the pistol lunges forward.
Dan’s gaze flicks back to me. I’m pitching over, my lungs burstingout of my chest and spreading before me like wings, spinal33 gristle andviscera showering the guests before me. A piece of my nametag, nowshrapnel, strikes Dan in the forehead, causing him to blink. When helooks again, the group of girls is still there, but the girl with the pistol islong gone.
The fly-through is far less confused. Everyone except me, Dan and thegirl is grayed-out. We’re limned22 in highlighter yellow, moving in slowmotion.
I emerge from the underpass and the girl moves from the SwissFamily Robinson Treehouse to the group of her friends. Dan starts tomove towards me. The girl raises, arms and fires her pistol. The selfguidingsmart-slug, keyed to my body chemistry, flies low, near groundlevel, weaving between the feet of the crowd, moving just below thespeed of sound. When it reaches me, it screams upwards34 and into myspine, detonating once it’s entered my chest cavity.
The girl has already made a lot of ground, back toward the Adventureland/Main Street, USA gateway35. The fly-through speeds up, followingher as she merges36 with the crowds on the street, ducking and weavingbetween them, moving toward the breezeway at Sleeping BeautyCastle. She vanishes, then reappears, forty minutes later, in Tomorrowland,near the new Space Mountain complex, then disappears again.
“Has anyone ID’d the girl?” I asked, once I’d finished reliving theevents. The anger was starting to boil within me now. My new fistsclenched for the first time, soft palms and uncallused fingertips.
30Dan shook his head. “None of the girls she was with had ever seen herbefore. The face was one of the Seven Sisters—Hope.” The Seven Sisterswere a trendy collection of designer faces. Every second teenage girlwore one of them.
“How about Jungle Traders?” I asked. “Did they have a record of thepith helmet purchase?”
Lil frowned. “We ran the Jungle Traders purchases back for sixmonths: only three matched the girl’s apparent age; all three have alibis38.
Chances are she stole it.”
“Why?” I asked, finally. In my mind’s eye, I saw my lungs burstingout of my chest, like wings, like jellyfish, vertebrae spraying likeshrapnel. I saw the girl’s smile, an almost sexual smirk40 as she pulled thetrigger on me.
“It wasn’t random41,” Lil said. “The slug was definitely keyed toyou—that means that she’d gotten close to you at some point.”
Right—which meant that she’d been to Disney World in the last tenyears. That narrowed it down, all right.
“What happened to her after Tomorrowland?” I said.
“We don’t know,” Lil said. “Something wrong with the cameras. Welost her and she never reappeared.” She sounded hot and angry—shetook equipment failures in the Magic Kingdom personally.
“Who’d want to do this?” I asked, hating the self-pity in my voice. Itwas the first time I’d been murdered, but I didn’t need to be a dramaqueenabout it.
Dan’s eyes got a far-away look. “Sometimes, people do things for reasonsthat seem perfectly42 reasonable to them, that the rest of the worldcouldn’t hope to understand. I’ve seen a few assassinations43, and theynever made sense afterwards.” He stroked his chin. “Sometimes, it’s betterto look for temperament44, rather than motivation: who could dosomething like this?”
Right. All we needed to do was investigate all the psychopaths who’dvisited the Magic Kingdom in ten years. That narrowed it down considerably45.
I pulled up a HUD and checked the time. It had been four dayssince my murder. I had a shift coming up, working the turnstiles at theHaunted Mansion46. I liked to pull a couple of those shifts a month, just tokeep myself grounded; it helped to take a reality check while I waschurning away in the rarified climate of my crowd-control simulations.
I stood and went to my closet, started to dress.
31“What are you doing?” Lil asked, alarmed.
“I’ve got a shift. I’m running late.”
“You’re in no shape to work,” Lil said, tugging48 at my elbow. I jerkedfree of her.
“I’m fine—good as new.” I barked a humorless laugh. “I’m not goingto let those bastards49 disrupt my life any more.”
Those bastards? I thought—when had I decided24 that there was morethan one? But I knew it was true. There was no way that this was allplanned by one person: it had been executed too precisely50, toothoroughly.
Dan moved to block the bedroom door. “Wait a second,” he said. “Youneed rest.”
I fixed51 him with a doleful glare. “I’ll decide that,” I said. He steppedaside.
“I’ll tag along, then,” he said. “Just in case.”
I pinged my Whuffie. I was up a couple percentiles—sympathy Whuffie—but it was falling: Dan and Lil were radiating disapproval52. Screw’em.
I got into my runabout and Dan scrambled53 for the passenger door as Iput it in gear and sped out.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Dan said as I nearly rolled the runabouttaking the corner at the end of our cul-de-sac.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I said. “I’m as good as new.”
“Funny choice of words,” he said. “Some would say that you werenew.”
I groaned54. “Not this argument again,” I said. “I feel like me and no oneelse is making that claim. Who cares if I’ve been restored from abackup?”
“All I’m saying is, there’s a difference between you and an exact copyof you, isn’t there?”
I knew what he was doing, distracting me with one of our old fights,but I couldn’t resist the bait, and as I marshalled my arguments, it actuallyhelped calm me down some. Dan was that kind of friend, a personwho knew you better than you knew yourself. “So you’re saying that ifyou were obliterated55 and then recreated, atom-for-atom, that youwouldn’t be you anymore?”
32“For the sake of argument, sure. Being destroyed and recreated is differentfrom not being destroyed at all, right?”
“Brush up on your quantum mechanics, pal37. You’re being destroyedand recreated a trillion times a second.”
“On a very, very small level—”
“What difference does that make?”
“Fine, I’ll concede that. But you’re not really an atom-for-atom copy.
You’re a clone, with a copied brain—that’s not the same as quantumdestruction.”
“Very nice thing to say to someone who’s just been murdered, pal.
You got a problem with clones?”
And we were off and running.
The Mansion’s cast were sickeningly cheerful and solicitous56. Each ofthem made a point of coming around and touching57 the stiff, starchedshoulder of my butler’s costume, letting me know that if there was anythingthey could do for me. … gave them all a fixed smile and tried toconcentrate on the guests, how they waited, when they arrived, howthey dispersed58 through the exit gate. Dan hovered59 nearby, occasionallytaking the eight minute, twenty-two second ride-through, running interferencefor me with the other castmembers.
He was nearby when my break came up. I changed into civvies andwe walked over the cobbled streets, past the Hall of the Presidents, notingas I rounded the corner that there was something different about thequeue-area. Dan groaned. “They did it already,” he said.
I looked closer. The turnstiles were blocked by a sandwich board:
Mickey in a Ben Franklin wig60 and bifocals, holding a trowel. “Excuse ourmess!” the sign declared. “We’re renovating61 to serve you better!”
I spotted62 one of Debra’s cronies standing63 behind the sign, a self-satisfiedsmile on his face. He’d started off life as a squat64, northern Chinese,but had had his bones lengthened65 and his cheekbones raised so that helooked almost elfin. I took one look at his smile and understood—Debrahad established a toehold in Liberty Square.
“They filed plans for the new Hall with the steering66 committee anhour after you got shot. The committee loved the plans; so did the net.
They’re promising67 not to touch the Mansion.”
“You didn’t mention this,” I said, hotly.
33“We thought you’d jump to conclusions. The timing68 was bad, butthere’s no indication that they arranged for the shooter. Everyone’s gotan alibi39; furthermore, they’ve all offered to submit their backups forproof.”
“Right,” I said. “Right. So they just happened to have plans for a newHall standing by. And they just happened to file them after I got shot,when all our ad-hocs were busy worrying about me. It’s all a bigcoincidence.”
Dan shook his head. “We’re not stupid, Jules. No one thinks that it’s acoincidence. Debra’s the sort of person who keeps a lot of plans standingby, just in case. But that just makes her a well-prepared opportunist, nota murderer.”
I felt nauseated69 and exhausted71. I was enough of a castmember that Isought out a utilidor before I collapsed72 against a wall, head down. Defeatseeped through me, saturating73 me.
Dan crouched74 down beside me. I looked over at him. He was grinningwryly. “Posit,” he said, “for the moment, that Debra really did do thisthing, set you up so that she could take over.”
I smiled, in spite of myself. This was his explaining act, the thing hewould do whenever I fell into one of his rhetorical tricks back in the olddays. “All right, I’ve posited75 it.”
“Why would she: one, take out you instead of Lil or one of the realold-timers; two, go after the Hall of Presidents instead of Tom Sawyer Islandor even the Mansion; and three, follow it up with such a blatant,suspicious move?”
“All right,” I said, warming to the challenge. “One: I’m importantenough to be disruptive but not so important as to rate a full investigation76.
Two: Tom Sawyer Island is too visible, you can’t rehab it withoutpeople seeing the dust from shore. Three, Debra’s coming off of a decadein Beijing, where subtlety77 isn’t real important.”
“Sure,” Dan said, “sure.” Then he launched an answering salvo, andwhile I was thinking up my answer, he helped me to my feet and walkedme out to my runabout, arguing all the way, so that by the time I noticedwe weren’t at the Park anymore, I was home and in bed.
With all the Hall’s animatronics mothballed for the duration, Lil hadmore time on her hands than she knew what to do with. She hungaround the little bungalow78, the two of us in the living room, staring34blankly at the windows, breathing shallowly in the claustrophobic, superheatedFlorida air. I had my working notes on queue management forthe Mansion, and I pecked at them aimlessly. Sometimes, Lil mirroredmy HUD so she could watch me work, and made suggestions based onher long experience.
It was a delicate process, this business of increasing throughputwithout harming the guest experience. But for every second I couldshave off of the queue-to-exit time, I could put another sixty gueststhrough and lop thirty seconds off total wait-time. And the more guestswho got to experience the Mansion, the more of a Whuffie-hit Debra’speople would suffer if they made a move on it. So I dutifully pecked atmy notes, and found three seconds I could shave off the graveyard79 sequenceby swiveling the Doom80 Buggy carriages stage-left as they descendedfrom the attic81 window: by expanding their fields-of-vision, I couldexpose the guests to all the scenes more quickly.
I ran the change in fly-through, then implemented82 it after closing andinvited the other Liberty Square ad-hocs to come and test it out.
It was another muggy83 winter evening, prematurely84 dark. The ad-hocshad enough friends and family with them that we were able to simulatean off-peak queue-time, and we all stood and sweated in the preshowarea, waiting for the doors to swing open, listening to the wolf-cries andassorted boo-spookery from the hidden speakers.
The doors swung open, revealing Lil in a rotting maid’s uniform, hereyes lined with black, her skin powdered to a deathly pallor. She gave usa cold, considering glare, then intoned, “Master Gracey requests morebodies.”
As we crowded into the cool, musty gloom of the parlor85, Lil contrivedto give my ass2 an affectionate squeeze. I turned to return the favor, andsaw Debra’s elfin comrade looming86 over Lil’s shoulder. My smile diedon my lips.
The man locked eyes with me for a moment, and I saw something inthere—some admixture of cruelty and worry that I didn’t know what tomake of. He looked away immediately. I’d known that Debra wouldhave spies in the crowd, of course, but with elf-boy watching, I resolvedto make this the best show I knew how.
It’s subtle, this business of making the show better from within. Lilhad already slid aside the paneled wall that led to stretch-room numbertwo, the most recently serviced one. Once the crowd had moved inside, Itried to lead their eyes by adjusting my body language to poses of subtle35attention directed at the new spotlights87. When the newly remasteredsoundtrack came from behind the sconce-bearing gargoyles88 at thecorners of the octagonal room, I leaned my body slightly in the directionof the moving stereo-image. And an instant before the lights snappedout, I ostentatiously cast my eyes up into the scrim ceiling, noting thatothers had taken my cue, so they were watching when the UV-lit corpsedropped from the pitch-dark ceiling, jerking against the noose89 at its neck.
The crowd filed into the second queue area, where they boarded theDoom Buggies. There was a low buzz of marveling conversation as wemade our way onto the moving sidewalk. I boarded my Doom Buggyand an instant later, someone slid in beside me. It was the elf.
He made a point of not making eye contact with me, but I sensed hissidelong glances at me as we rode through past the floating chandelierand into the corridor where the portraits’ eyes watched us. Two years before,I’d accelerated this sequence and added some random swivel to theDoom Buggies, shaving 25 seconds off the total, taking the hourlythroughput cap from 2365 to 2600. It was the proof-of-concept that led toall the other seconds I’d shaved away since. The violent pitching of theBuggy brought me and the elf into inadvertent contact with one another,and when I brushed his hand as I reached for the safety bar, I felt that itwas cold and sweaty.
He was nervous! He was nervous. What did he have to be nervousabout? I was the one who’d been murdered—maybe he was nervous becausehe was supposed to finish the job. I cast my own sidelong looks athim, trying to see suspicious bulges90 in his tight clothes, but the DoomBuggy’s pebbled91 black plastic interior was too dim. Dan was in theBuggy behind us, with one of the Mansion’s regular castmembers. I ranghis cochlea and subvocalized: “Get ready to jump out on my signal.”
Anyone leaving their Buggy would interrupt an infrared92 beam and stopthe ride system. I knew I could rely on Dan to trust me without a lot ofexplaining, which meant that I could keep a close watch on Debra’scrony.
We went past the hallway of mirrors and into the hallway of doors,where monstrous hands peeked93 out around the sills, straining againstthe hinges, recorded groans94 mixed in with pounding. I thought aboutit—if I wanted to kill someone on the Mansion, what would be the bestplace to do it? The attic staircase— the next sequence—seemed like agood bet. A cold clarity washed over me. The elf would kill me in thegloom of the staircase, dump me out over the edge at the blind turn36toward the graveyard, and that would be it. Would he be able to do it if Iwere staring straight at him? He seemed terribly nervous as it was. Iswiveled in my seat and looked him straight in the eye.
He quirked half a smile at me and nodded a greeting. I kept on staringat him, my hands balled into fists, ready for anything. We rode down thestaircase, facing up, listening to the clamour of voices from the cemeteryand the squawk of the red-eyed raven96. I caught sight of the quakinggroundkeeper animatronic from the corner of my eye and startled. I letout a subvocal squeal97 and was pitched forward as the ride systemshuddered to a stop.
“Jules?” came Dan’s voice in my cochlea. “You all right?”
He’d heard my involuntary note of surprise and had leapt clear of theBuggy, stopping the ride. The elf was looking at me with a mixture ofsurprise and pity.
“It’s all right, it’s all right. False alarm.” I paged Lil and subvocalizedto her, telling her to start up the ride ASAP, it was all right.
I rode the rest of the way with my hands on the safety bar, my eyesfixed ahead of me, steadfastly98 ignoring the elf. I checked the timer I’dbeen running. The demo was a debacle—instead of shaving off threeseconds, I’d added thirty. I wanted to cry.
I debarked the Buggy and stalked quickly out of the exit queue, leaningheavily against the fence, staring blindly at the pet cemetery95. Myhead swam: I was out of control, jumping at shadows. I was spooked.
And I had no reason to be. Sure, I’d been murdered, but what had itcost me? A few days of “unconsciousness” while they decanted99 mybackup into my new body, a merciful gap in memory from my departureat the backup terminal up until my death. I wasn’t one of those nuts whotook death seriously. It wasn’t like they’d done something permanent.
In the meantime, I had done something permanent: I’d dug Lil’s gravea little deeper, endangered the ad-hocracy and, worst of all, the Mansion.
I’d acted like an idiot. I tasted my dinner, a wolfed-down hamburger,and swallowed hard, forcing down the knob of nausea70.
I sensed someone at my elbow, and thinking it was Lil, come to ask mewhat had gone on, I turned with a sheepish grin and found myself facingthe elf.
37He stuck his hand out and spoke100 in the flat no-accent of someone runninga language module101. “Hi there. We haven’t been introduced, but Iwanted to tell you how much I enjoy your work. I’m Tim Fung.”
I pumped his hand, which was still cold and particularly clammy inthe close heat of the Florida night. “Julius,” I said, startled at how muchlike a bark it sounded. Careful, I thought, no need to escalate102 the hostilities103.
“It’s kind of you to say that. I like what you-all have done with thePirates.”
He smiled: a genuine, embarrassed smile, as though he’d just been givenhigh praise from one of his heroes. “Really? I think it’s prettygood—the second time around you get a lot of chances to refine things,really clarify the vision. Beijing—well, it was exciting, but it was rushed,you know? I mean, we were really struggling. Every day, there was anotherpack of squatters who wanted to tear the Park down. Debra usedto send me out to give the children piggyback rides, just to keep ourWhuffie up while she was evicting104 the squatters. It was good to have theopportunity to refine the designs, revisit them without the floor show.”
I knew about this, of course—Beijing had been a real struggle for thead-hocs who built it. Lots of them had been killed, many times over.
Debra herself had been killed every day for a week and restored to aseries of prepared clones, beta-testing one of the ride systems. It wasfaster than revising the CAD simulations. Debra had a reputation forpursuing expedience105.
“I’m starting to find out how it feels to work under pressure,” I said,and nodded significantly at the Mansion. I was gratified to see him lookembarrassed, then horrified106.
“We would never touch the Mansion,” he said. “It’s perfect!”
Dan and Lil sauntered up as I was preparing a riposte. They bothlooked concerned—now that I thought of it, they’d both seemed incrediblyconcerned about me since the day I was revived.
Dan’s gait was odd, stilted107, like he was leaning on Lil for support.
They looked like a couple. An irrational108 sear of jealousy109 jetted throughme. I was an emotional wreck110. Still, I took Lil’s big, scarred hand in mineas soon as she was in reach, then cuddled her to me protectively. She hadchanged out of her maid’s uniform into civvies: smart coveralls whosemicropore fabric111 breathed in time with her own respiration112.
“Lil, Dan, I want you to meet Tim Fung. He was just telling me warstories from the Pirates project in Beijing.”
38Lil waved and Dan gravely shook his hand. “That was some hardwork,” Dan said.
It occurred to me to turn on some Whuffie monitors. It was normallyan instantaneous reaction to meeting someone, but I was still disoriented.
I pinged the elf. He had a lot of left-handed Whuffie; respectgarnered from people who shared very few of my opinions. I expectedthat. What I didn’t expect was that his weighted Whuffie score, the onethat lent extra credence113 to the rankings of people I respected, was alsohigh—higher than my own. I regretted my nonlinear behavior evenmore. Respect from the elf—Tim, I had to remember to call himTim—would carry a lot of weight in every camp that mattered.
Dan’s score was incrementing upwards, but he still had a rotten profile.
He had accrued114 a good deal of left-handed Whuffie, and I curiouslybacktraced it to the occasion of my murder, when Debra’s people had accordedhim a generous dollop of props115 for the levelheaded way he hadscraped up my corpse and moved it offstage, minimizing the disturbancein front of their wondrous116 Pirates.
I was fugueing, wandering off on the kind of mediated117 reverie that gotme killed on the reef at Playa Coral, and I came out of it with a start, realizingthat the other three were politely ignoring my blown buffer118. I couldhave run backwards119 through my short-term memory to get the gist120 ofthe conversation, but that would have lengthened the pause. Screw it.
“So, how’re things going over at the Hall of the Presidents?” I asked Tim.
Lil shot me a cautioning look. She’d ceded121 the Hall to Debra’s ad-hocs,that being the only way to avoid the appearance of childish disattentionto the almighty122 Whuffie. Now she had to keep up the fiction of goodnaturedcooperation—that meant not shoulder-surfing Debra, lookingfor excuses to pounce16 on her work.
Tim gave us the same half-grin he’d greeted me with. On his smooth,pointed123 features, it looked almost irredeemably cute. “We’re doing goodstuff, I think. Debra’s had her eye on the Hall for years, back in the olddays, before she went to China. We’re replacing the whole thing withbroadband uplinks of gestalts from each of the Presidents’ lives: newspaperheadlines, speeches, distilled124 biographies, personal papers. It’ll belike having each President inside you, core-dumped in a few seconds.
Debra said we’re going to flash-bake the Presidents on your mind!” Hiseyes glittered in the twilight125.
Having only recently experienced my own cerebral126 flash-baking, Tim’sdescription struck a chord in me. My personality seemed to be rattling39around a little in my mind, as though it had been improperly127 fitted. Itmade the idea of having the gestalt of 50-some Presidents squashed inalong with it perversely128 appealing.
“Wow,” I said. “That sounds wild. What do you have in mind forphysical plant?” The Hall as it stood had a quiet, patriotic129 dignitycribbed from a hundred official buildings of the dead USA. Messing withit would be like redesigning the stars-and-bars.
“That’s not really my area,” Tim said. “I’m a programmer. But I couldhave one of the designers squirt some plans at you, if you want.”
“That would be fine,” Lil said, taking my elbow. “I think we should beheading home, now, though.” She began to tug47 me away. Dan took myother elbow. Behind her, the Liberty Belle130 glowed like a ghostly weddingcake in the twilight.
“That’s too bad,” Tim said. “My ad-hoc is pulling an all-nighter on thenew Hall. I’m sure they’d love to have you drop by.”
The idea seized hold of me. I would go into the camp of the enemy, sitby their fire, learn their secrets. “That would be great!” I said, too loudly.
My head was buzzing slightly. Lil’s hands fell away.
“But we’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” Lil said. “You’ve got ashift at eight, and I’m running into town for groceries.” She was lying,but she was telling me that this wasn’t her idea of a smart move. But myfaith was unshakeable.
“Eight a.m. shift? No problem—I’ll be right here when it starts. I’ll justgrab a shower at the Contemporary in the morning and catch the monorailback in time to change. All right?”
Dan tried. “But Jules, we were going to grab some dinner at Cinderella’sRoyal Table, remember? I made reservations.”
“Aw, we can eat any time,” I said. “This is a hell of an opportunity.”
“It sure is,” Dan said, giving up. “Mind if I come along?”
He and Lil traded meaningful looks that I interpreted to mean, If he’sgoing to be a nut, one of us really should stay with him. I was pastcaring—I was going to beard the lion in his den3!
Tim was apparently oblivious131 to all of this. “Then it’s settled! Let’sgo.”
On the walk to the Hall, Dan kept ringing my cochlea and I kept sendinghim straight to voicemail. All the while, I kept up a patter of small-40talk with him and Tim. I was determined132 to make up for my debacle inthe Mansion with Tim, win him over.
Debra’s people were sitting around in the armchairs onstage, the animatronicpresidents stacked in neat piles in the wings. Debra wassprawled in Lincoln’s armchair, her head cocked lazily, her legs extendedbefore her. The Hall’s normal smells of ozone133 and cleanliness wereoverridden by sweat and machine-oil, the stink134 of an ad-hoc pulling anall-nighter. The Hall took fifteen years to research and execute, and acouple of days to tear down.
She was au-naturel, still wearing the face she’d been born with, albeitone that had been regenerated135 dozens of times after her deaths. It waspatrician, waxy136, long, with a nose that was made for staring down. Shewas at least as old as I was, though she was only apparent 22. I got thesense that she picked this age because it was one that afforded boundlessreserves of energy.
She didn’t deign137 to rise as I approached, but she did nod languorouslyat me. The other ad-hocs had been split into little clusters, hunched138 overterminals. They all had the raccoon-eyed, sleep-deprived look of fanatics,even Debra, who managed to look lazy and excited simultaneously139.
Did you have me killed? I wondered, staring at Debra. After all, she’dbeen killed dozens, if not hundreds of times. It might not be such a bigdeal for her.
“Hi there,” I said, brightly. “Tim offered to show us around! Youknow Dan, right?”
Debra nodded at him. “Oh, sure. Dan and I are pals140, right?”
Dan’s poker141 face didn’t twitch142 a muscle. “Hello, Debra,” he said. He’dbeen hanging out with them since Lil had briefed him on the peril143 to theMansion, trying to gather some intelligence for us to use. They knewwhat he was up to, of course, but Dan was a fairly charming guy and heworked like a mule144, so they tolerated him. But it seemed like he’d violateda boundary by accompanying me, as though the polite fiction thathe was more a part of Debra’s ad-hoc than Lil’s was shattered by mypresence.
Tim said, “Can I show them the demo, Debra?”
Debra quirked an eyebrow25, then said, “Sure, why not. You’ll like this,guys.”
Tim hustled145 us backstage, where Lil and I used to sweat over the animatronicsand cop surreptitious feels. Everything had been torn loose,41packed up, stacked. They hadn’t wasted a moment—they’d spent a weektearing down a show that had run for more than a century. The scrimthat the projected portions of the show normally screened on wasground into the floor, spotted with grime, footprints and oil.
Tim showed me to a half-assembled backup terminal. Its housing wasoff, and any number of wireless146 keyboards, pointers and gloves laystrewn about it. It had the look of a prototype.
“This is it—our uplink. So far, we’ve got a demo app running on it:
Lincoln’s old speech, along with the civil-war montage. Just switch onguest access and I’ll core-dump it to you. It’s wild.”
I pulled up my HUD and switched on guest access. Tim pointed a fingerat the terminal and my brain was suffused147 with the essence of Lincoln:
every nuance148 of his speech, the painstakingly149 researched movementtics, his warts150 and beard and topcoat. It almost felt like I was Lincoln,for a moment, and then it passed. But I could still taste the lingeringcoppery flavor of cannon-fire and chewing tobacco.
I staggered backwards. My head swam with flash-baked sense-impressions,rich and detailed151. I knew on the spot that Debra’s Hall of the Presidentswas going to be a hit.
Dan took a shot off the uplink, too. Tim and I watched him as his expressionshifted from skepticism to delight. Tim looked expectantly atme.
“That’s really fine,” I said. “Really, really fine. Moving.”
Tim blushed. “Thanks! I did the gestalt programming—it’s myspecialty.”
Debra spoke up from behind him—she’d sauntered over while Danwas getting his jolt12. “I got the idea in Beijing, when I was dying a lot.
There’s something wonderful about having memories implanted, likeyou’re really working your brain. I love the synthetic152 clarity of it all.”
Tim sniffed153. “Not synthetic at all,” he said, turning to me. “It’s niceand soft, right?”
I sensed deep political shoals and was composing my reply whenDebra said: “Tim keeps trying to make it all more impressionistic, lesscomputer-y. He’s wrong, of course. We don’t want to simulate the experienceof watching the show—we want to transcend154 it.”
Tim nodded reluctantly. “Sure, transcend it. But the way we do that isby making the experience human, a mile in the presidents’ shoes.
42Empathy-driven. What’s the point of flash-baking a bunch of dry factson someone’s brain?”
点击
收听单词发音
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1
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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buddies
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| n.密友( buddy的名词复数 )；同伴；弟兄；（用于称呼男子，常带怒气）家伙v.（如密友、战友、伙伴、弟兄般）交往( buddy的第三人称单数 )；做朋友；亲近（…）；伴护艾滋病人 | |
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erecting
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| v.使直立，竖起( erect的现在分词 )；建立 | |
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intestines
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| n.肠( intestine的名词复数 ) | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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12
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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18
collapsing
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| 压扁[平]，毁坏，断裂 | |
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pulpy
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| 果肉状的，多汁的，柔软的； 烂糊； 稀烂 | |
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20
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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21
counselor
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| n.顾问，法律顾问 | |
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limned
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| v.画( limn的过去式和过去分词 )；勾画；描写；描述 | |
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23
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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24
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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25
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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26
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
ticklish
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| adj.怕痒的；问题棘手的；adv.怕痒地；n.怕痒，小心处理 | |
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28
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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29
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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30
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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31
flicks
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的第三人称单数 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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32
stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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spinal
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| adj.针的，尖刺的，尖刺状突起的；adj.脊骨的，脊髓的 | |
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34
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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35
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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merges
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| （使）混合( merge的第三人称单数 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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37
pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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38
alibis
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| 某人在别处的证据( alibi的名词复数 )； 不在犯罪现场的证人； 借口； 托辞 | |
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39
alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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40
smirk
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| n.得意地笑；v.傻笑；假笑着说 | |
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41
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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42
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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43
assassinations
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| n.暗杀( assassination的名词复数 ) | |
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44
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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45
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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46
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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47
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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48
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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49
bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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50
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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51
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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52
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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53
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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54
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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55
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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56
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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57
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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58
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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59
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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60
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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61
renovating
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| 翻新，修复，整修( renovate的现在分词 ) | |
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62
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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63
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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64
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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65
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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67
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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68
timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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69
nauseated
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| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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71
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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72
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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73
saturating
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| 浸湿，浸透( saturate的现在分词 )； 使…大量吸收或充满某物 | |
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74
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
posited
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| v.假定，设想，假设( posit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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77
subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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78
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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79
graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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80
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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81
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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82
implemented
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| v.实现( implement的过去式和过去分词 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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83
muggy
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| adj.闷热的；adv.（天气）闷热而潮湿地；n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
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84
prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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85
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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86
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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87
spotlights
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| n.聚光灯（的光）( spotlight的名词复数 )；公众注意的中心v.聚光照明( spotlight的第三人称单数 )；使公众注意，使突出醒目 | |
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88
gargoyles
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| n.怪兽状滴水嘴( gargoyle的名词复数 ) | |
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89
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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90
bulges
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| 膨胀( bulge的名词复数 )； 鼓起； （身体的）肥胖部位； 暂时的激增 | |
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91
pebbled
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| 用卵石铺（pebble的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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92
infrared
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| adj./n.红外线(的) | |
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93
peeked
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| v.很快地看( peek的过去式和过去分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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94
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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95
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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96
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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decanted
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| v.将（酒等）自瓶中倒入另一容器( decant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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101
module
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| n.组件，模块，模件；(航天器的)舱 | |
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102
escalate
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| v.(使)逐步增长(或发展)，(使)逐步升级 | |
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103
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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104
evicting
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| v.（依法从房屋里或土地上）驱逐，赶出( evict的现在分词 ) | |
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105
expedience
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| n.方便，私利，权宜 | |
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106
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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107
stilted
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| adj.虚饰的；夸张的 | |
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108
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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109
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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110
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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111
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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112
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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113
credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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114
accrued
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| adj.权责已发生的v.增加( accrue的过去式和过去分词 )；（通过自然增长）产生；获得；（使钱款、债务）积累 | |
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115
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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116
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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117
mediated
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| 调停，调解，斡旋( mediate的过去式和过去分词 )； 居间促成； 影响…的发生； 使…可能发生 | |
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118
buffer
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| n.起缓冲作用的人(或物)，缓冲器；vt.缓冲 | |
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119
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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120
gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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121
ceded
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| v.让给，割让，放弃( cede的过去式 ) | |
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122
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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123
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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124
distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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125
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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126
cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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127
improperly
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| 不正确地，不适当地 | |
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128
perversely
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| adv. 倔强地 | |
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129
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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130
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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131
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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133
ozone
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| n.臭氧，新鲜空气 | |
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134
stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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135
regenerated
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| v.新生，再生( regenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136
waxy
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| adj.苍白的；光滑的 | |
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137
deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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138
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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139
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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140
pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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141
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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142
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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143
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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144
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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145
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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146
wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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147
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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148
nuance
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| n.(意义、意见、颜色)细微差别 | |
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149
painstakingly
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| adv. 费力地 苦心地 | |
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150
warts
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| n.疣( wart的名词复数 )；肉赘；树瘤；缺点 | |
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151
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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152
synthetic
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| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
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153
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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154
transcend
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| vt.超出，超越(理性等)的范围 | |
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