"Maureen McHugh - Virtual Love" - читать интересную книгу автора (McHugh Maureen F)

people so . . . so, how do I explain it. Not flashy. Not like me, my people are all so
obvious, but yours, it took me a while to realize just how good you are. You are
more than good, youтАЩre . . . youтАЩre an artist. The more I look at you, the more things
I see.тАЭ

I shake my head. It was a mistake to see him, heтАЩs cruel without meaning to
be, he makes me know the illusion. I should ask him about the white light in the cafe,
the Vermeer light, and about how he blushes. I canтАЩt, though.

тАЬI canтАЩt talk to you,тАЭ I say.

тАЬYou canтАЩt leave,тАЭ he says. He grabs my hand and I feel his hand through the
glove. I jerk away.

тАЬI canтАЩt,тАЭ I say. тАЬIt was a mistake.тАЭ Everybody in the bar is looking at us, but
I donтАЩt care. When I turn and walk away, he doesnтАЩt follow me.

Up the steps and out on the street, past the green-haired hookers shivering in
their shorts. I keep watching behind me, to see if he will follow me, but he doesnтАЩt,
back to the elevator, back to the safety of the green room. Back to sit down in the
chair and take off Mick and cry. Sit, invisible, and cry and cry. I donтАЩt know what to
do.

He has killed it for me. I canтАЩt go back out there; what if I run into him again?
But what am I going to do if I canтАЩt do VR? How am I going to give them all up?
How do I spend my days, sitting in my chair, watching the vid, doing my word
processing jobs and dumping them into the modem, not talking to anyone for days
at a time and waiting for my parents to call to break the monotony? I hate him. I hate
what he has done to my life.

You are beautiful, he said. But I knew it wasnтАЩt true.

I canтАЩt stay away from the green room. I ghost about, start a new personality;
a copy, something no one would notice. But I canтАЩt stand it, donтАЩt want to wear it.
ThereтАЩs no magic to it, when I put it on I donтАЩt forget. I donтАЩt come alive. So I
donтАЩt bother to save it and I drop out of the system, go watch something on the
vid.

But in a little time IтАЩm back again, rattling around in the green room. Nothing
to do, no one to talk to. I could find a service, pay membership fees and pay for the
minutes of time I use. He is local, like me. I wouldnтАЩt see him if I left the local net.
But I donтАЩt make enough, not to pay my bills, and my home help who comes in to
clean. ItтАЩs too expensive. I need the local boards. Like an addict.

I donтАЩt even dare pick up the icons. I donтАЩt want a reflection in the mirror.

Just the ruby red gloves, dancing around the room.

My system tells me I have a message. Mail.