There seemed to be people everywhere. Five people were sitting in a waiting area opposite the reception desk, and there were two others already in a fine in front of her at the desk. The young receptionist was speaking on the telephone, and writing on a pad of paper with her free hand. To one side of her desk there was a pile of wrapped packages, apparently awaiting collection or delivery.
Beyond the waiting area, on the side, there was a door with a glass panel, and as it appeared she was going to have to wait for several minutes Teresa sauntered across to it and peered through. Above the door was a large sign, the lettering drawn in a brilliant emulation of the kind of spraypaint graffiti you saw everywhere: CYBERVILLE UK. It was a long, windowless room, not brightly lit, equipped with at least a dozen PCs. Each computer was in use, with someone staring raptly at the screen. Teresa realized that the place was an internet cafe: website graphics were constantly loading and wiping, as the endless search for data went on. At the far end of the room were some arcade games machines, but these were not being used. Most of the computer users looked remarkably young.
She returned to the reception desk, and waited her turn. At last, the young woman, identified on her lapel badge as Paula Willson of Customer Services Dept., was free.
'May 1 help you?' she said.
1'd like to make use of the ExEx equipment here.'
'Yes, we have that facility. Are you a member?'
'No. Do 1 have to be?'
'Yes, unless you're already a member of one of our associate clubs.'
'I've used ExEx in the States,' Teresa said. 'But not on public equipment. lt was ... training equipment.'
Paula Willson passed her a form from a large pile on her desk.
'lf you would fill this in,' she said, 'we can enrol you straight away. Were you planning on using the equipment today?'
'Yes, 1 was. If that's possible.'
'We're always booked up, but there are a few slots free this afternoon. Weekdays are better than weekends.' She had turned the form round on the desk, and was indicating it with a finger. 'AH we need from you is some form of identification, and we do require a membership fee when you enrol. We accept all major credit cards.'
'When I've filled this out, 1 give it back to you?'
'Yes. May 1 help you?'
She had turned to the two people standing behind Teresa, who had come in from outside while they were talking. Teresa picked up the form and took it across to the waiting area. She found a space on one of the black leather sofas, and
leaned forward to lay the form on the glasstopped table in front of her. The page was headed
lt was a lowintensity form compared with some of the ones she had had to complete in the US; there were the usual questions concerning identity, status, finances and occupation, none of which bothered her. She hesitated over the questions about her job, wondering how she should describe it. There was no official Bureau policy on this, although when answering similar form questions in the US she and other agents usually named their employer in vague terms, such as 'US Government' or 'Dept. of justice', and their Job as 'civil servant' or 'federal employee'. For the time being she left this box blank, and turned over the page.
Here she found a list of questions about her intended use of the equipment, ranging from email, internet conferencing and access to website browsing, to use of extreme experience scenarios general and specific uses, with a long list of the latter and training modules. She glanced through the list, remarking to herself on the extent of what was on offer.
She confined herself to two choices: the general scenario option, because she was unclear about what was available and this seemed to open the way to the rest, and from the training modules
She ringed it anyway, then returned to the front of the form. In the box enquiring about her employer, she wrote
After another wait at the reception desk Teresa handed in her form, and waited while Paula Willson checked through it.
,Thank you,' she said after a moment. 'May I have some identification, Mrs Simons, and your credit card?'
Teresa handed over her Baltimore First National Visa, and her Bureau ID. The young woman ran the card through the electronic swipe, and while waiting for a response she glanced at the ID. She handed it back without comment, then typed a few entries on the keyboard in front of her.
Finally she said, 'I'm afraid I'm not able to assign handgun target-practice authorization myself. Would you mind waiting for a few minutes, and I'll ask our duty manager to see you?'
'No, of course not. You said there were some slots free this afternoon. Assuming 1 get the goahead, can 1 book one of them now?'
Paula Willson looked surprised, but she typed at the keyboard, and in a moment said, 'Well, we have target range software free at threethirty, in Just under an hour. And there's another slot at five. Or would you prefer to use the general scenarios?'
'I'll take the threethirty slot, for target practice.' The words came out quickly. Teresa was still apprehensive about the full scenarios, the extraordinary onslaught of physical sensations, the dislocation from reality. On the other hand, she knew what ExEx target ranges were like and they were regularly used by the Bureau. But she asked, 'What about the other scenarios?'
'We have nothing free today. There are a couple of hours available tomorrow.'
Teresa considered, not having expected there would be a delay. She had thought it would be something she
