"Rajnar Vajra - Viewschool" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vajra Rajnar)

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Next morning, Dori тАЬcalled in deadтАЭ and I plied her with everything from Echinacea to chicken soup. She
didn't exactly applaud the soup-for-breakfast motif, but my wife is rarely ill and the novelty of being
waited on while horizontal made her amenable. Plus, she wasn't feeling well enough to argue. Much.

I kept her company while she slurped. She made the mistake of asking how my class was going and I let
it all out. When I finished, she hadn't bought my theory.

"Why so much secrecy about a case of cyber-stalking, Bill?"

I tried to sound as if I knew what I was talking about. тАЬThe guy must still be on the loose and probably
some kind of serial abuser. The way these things usually work is that the stalker meets his victim in a chat
room, gains the victim's trust, and eventually arranges a physical meeting."

"Could a stalkerтАФтАЭ cough, cough, тАЬassault his victim in VR?"

I nodded admiringly. тАЬAn excellent question! I've been considering that myself, but I don't see how. VR
is mostly controlled on the user's end and has hundreds of safeguards. But I'm thinking she's been
traumatized by everything connected to her experience, including VR."

"If you're right, how can you help that poor girl?"

I glanced at my wristwatch; class would be starting in ten minutes. тАЬI need to make her feel safe, Dori.
Trouble is, the ViewNet environment probably reminds her too much of VR already. Maybe I can
borrow a page from that kid I told you about and give Maddie some form of armor."

"I'm sure you'll do the right thing. Now get out of here and let me honk my nose in peace. Some things
aren't fit for company."

"Okay. Guess what I'm making you for lunch? More chicken soup!"

"Wonderful. Be elsewhere."
****
For three weeks I thought Marty was right, that I had everything under control. My only failure was
Maddie; every way I imagined to help her could backfire, give her a sense of claustrophobia at best or
imprisonment at worst. And I was afraid that if I blew it, there'd be no second chance.

Kekipi, in particular, had grown. He'd lost fifty pounds of sullenness and seemed eager, hungry even, for
raw knowledge. Buddha was still grinning, but he was learning; Q-Ball was down to one outburst a day;
Cher wasn't causing trouble and was bright as a star. Even White Night was slowly coming out of his
shell if not his armor. Oddly enough, he and Q-ball seemed to be growing a friendship. Their interchanges
were often fascinating:

"Hey, White Kike, why the skinny e-con? Even with that candy shell, you тАШbout thin as a shadow."

"Got a reason, Q-tip. I'm trying to feel stronger. The idea is that I'm Superman, but real."
"No way. Superman be ripped."

"That's what I'm talking about. How would Superman get enough exercise to grow humongous muscles?"