Another Life

box.’

‘And Operation Goldenrod,’ recalled Toshiko quietly.

Owen’s laughter faltered. ‘I saw Jack in a whole different light after that one.’

Toshiko nodded. Her expression suggested she couldn’t decide whether to relish or regret the whole training experience. ‘That all seems ages ago, and yet…’ Her voice trailed off wistfully.

Owen watched her eyes. They seemed to be focused on something a long distance away. ‘Before I came here,’ she said eventually, ‘I’d never killed anyone before. Never even thought about it. Oh, I mean, I got angry with people.’

‘I’d pay money to see you get angry, Tosh.’

‘No, the sort of thing you just say and don’t mean. “I’ll kill that guy if I get my hands on him,” you know. But I’d never even used a gun before. Not a real one.’ Another long pause.

Abruptly, behind them, the pirate captain loudly cheered on the giraffe-man in his pinball game. ‘Avast behind!’ yelled Sharkchum.

‘I think he’s talking about you, Tosh.’ Owen nudged her conspiratorially, and added in an undertone: ‘Can these guys overhear us? I mean, does Cap’n Birdseye understand what we’re talking about?’

‘No, he’s just an avatar generated by the game.’ She rattled off a few keystrokes on the console in front of her, and the pirate captain dissolved in a shower of white noise, like a TV being detuned and switched off. The giraffe man continued with the final pull of his pinball game, apparently unconcerned by his noisy friend’s abrupt disappearance.

‘Something I noticed in the Second Reality, when I was wearing that helmet thing. It was a big disappointment… Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fantastic achievement, Tosh,’ Owen added hurriedly as he watched her eyebrows rise. ‘But it was obvious that the other avatars were just running through a script. Responding to pre-programmed computer instructions. They weren’t real people.’

‘In fleshspace, you mean.’

Her sarcasm irritated him, but he persevered anyway. ‘Yeah. You know, unreliable, erratic. Unpredictable. With the usual foibles and weaknesses that human beings have and robots don’t.’ He pondered this assertion for a moment. ‘Apart from that robot we trashed in Pontypridd, obviously.’

‘Too bad,’ said Toshiko firmly. ‘It’s more secure that way. If you’re that disappointed, I can download a larger amount of game-play data from the server and that will show more options.’

‘No, I’m saying I had the same thought that you did, Tosh. Second Reality tests real people’s potential. The more you play it, the better you get, because you start to understand the conventions of the game. So alien monsters in a virtual world won’t freak game-players out like in real life.’

She was still looking at him blankly. Regular exposure to Toshiko’s non-verbal repertoire had made Owen immune to such obviously faked incomprehension.

‘You said it yourself, Torchwood could use this for training. Go that next step, Tosh. Why not use Second Reality for recruitment too? Connect it to the gaming community on the Internet! Find out who’s good at this kind of thing, and approach them to join when they’ve shown enough aptitude? Test out their real-life skills against the kinds of situations we face in our daily lives but that they never would — until one day when it’s too late for them?’

‘No, no, no,’ insisted Toshiko.

Owen was getting into his stride now. Why couldn’t Toshiko accept this? Why was she even working on these enhancements if she didn’t see the potential? ‘Come on! There are all sorts of people we’d never contact normally. Loads of people play Second Reality. Bright kids, CEOs, programmers, surfers, accountants, soldiers, stay-at-home mums… You wouldn’t believe the imagination that everyday people have. There’s one guy who’s created a game that the avatars inside Second Reality play, and it’s so popular he’s licensed it to a publisher. In the real world. They’re gonna release it on video game-players and mobile phones. There was a fashion show using the design sketches and model avatars for the catwalk event in a virtual Paris. Last week I saw a competition to design a new mousetrap, where the mice were the size of donkeys. Where else can you find such a range of skills and abilities and aptitude all in one place? It’s a scouting trip to die for. But only if you plug it in.’

‘Not if you value your personal fleshspace,’ warned Toshiko. Her manner was adamant. ‘I won’t hear of this version being connected outside the Torchwood firewall, under any circumstances. And I will chop off your scabbard if I find you trying to.’

Owen threw up his hands, fake gloves and all, in a gesture of frustration and despair.

‘Look,’ she continued. She was doing that earnest voice of hers, the one that she used when she wanted to sound so reasonable that you couldn’t then go and bite her head off. ‘There’s another head-mounted display helmet available, and you could manage with just one data-glove. So if you want some unpredictable interaction with a real human being, give the other glove and the spare helmet to Ianto, and play with him.’

‘Ianto?’ Owen blew out a great long exasperated sigh. ‘Unpredictable? I suppose we could make virtual coffee together.’

‘I heard that,’ said Ianto, ‘and I think I may resent it.’

Owen’s heart sank a little. Ianto’s voice was coming from near the pinball machine. Like Owen and Toshiko, he was wearing a virtual costume. Owen hadn’t recognised him inside the giraffe’s head.

Walter Pendulum eased his portly frame around the pinball machine and retrieved a tray containing empty cups and a cafetiere. ‘Unfortunate timing, I accept,’ said the giraffe with Ianto’s voice. ‘But don’t let the coincidence of me doing this suggest otherwise.’

Walter waddled off across the games area. As he left the room, his shimmering image transformed back into Ianto. The last thing to vanish as he departed through the doorway was his little giraffe’s tail.

Owen slumped into his seat, now embarrassed and dejected at the same time. ‘Don’t you ever take a risk, Tosh?’

‘When it comes to system security,’ she told him primly, ‘I’m conservative. With a small “c”.’

‘Chicken starts with a small “c” too, you know.’

‘Don’t be an idiot with a big “i”.’

‘That Cyclops we found in Pontprennau last month. Now, he was an idiot with a big “i”.’

Toshiko stood up and loomed over him. She fixed him to his chair with her scowl. ‘Owen. I gave up my social evening to get this thing finished tonight, and all I get is abuse from you? Look at the time. I’m going to go home.’

‘Social evening?’ That didn’t sound much like the Toshiko Sato he knew. Dr Sato the programming whizz-kid, first into the office and last to leave every day. This had potential. He grinned at her. ‘You mean… you had a date? What would keep you here if you had a date?’

She stopped staring at him. Looked away. Blushed a little. ‘If you must know, I’ve joined a chess club. We meet on Saturday evenings.’ She was shutting down the computer system. Owen’s leather jerkin, gloves and boots all glittered and faded. Toshiko was wearing her usual black top and trousers again.

Owen watched her leave the R amp;R area.

Chess, he thought. Right. Ideal for Toshiko. The only pairing where she was ever likely to make the first move.

He listened to her footsteps disappearing into the distance. Then he just sat for several minutes and let the night-time sounds of the Hub echo around him. The 50 hertz hum of the machinery. The tick-splash sound of a drip. The occasional creak of a board somewhere in the older fittings.

There was no sign of Toshiko returning. He went out to the main area, and satisfied himself that Ianto had also left for the evening. The helmet-mounted display and data-gloves were at his desk where he’d left them.

Owen powered up the computer again, and began to type. His logon screen appeared, and he tapped in his user id: [email protected], followed by his password.

‘This is Second Reality,’ the screen told him. ‘Connect to the Internet? Y/N’

He slipped on the data-gloves, flexing his fingers and feeling the touch-sensitive pads against his skin. He carefully strapped on the helmet. The screen image was already displayed on the stereoscopic screens, and the text seemed to leap out at him in three dimensions.

He reached out his right hand and pushed against the Y.