Teresa accelerated away, seeing hills ahead, yellow and brown and dotted with dark trees, shimmering in the hot day. In moments, the police diversion was behind her. She kept her foot down, letting the large, quietengined car pick up speed at its own pace.
She looked down at herself, realizing that she was wearing some other woman's clothes. She was fat! She was wearing terrible clothes! She had runs in her stockings! She glanced up into the rearview mirror, leaning across to see
herself; an elderly black woman's face, full of mild concern, looked back at her.
'Hi, Elsa!' Teresa said aloud, smiling at her own reflection.
The road became straight. There were no buildings on either side of it, and flat, featureless ground, dotted with scrub, stretched away on both sides.
She drove for several minutes, peering ahead with interest to see how the landscape would develop, but now she was away from the edge of the city there was little to look at. There was no other traffic. On either side of the road the gravelly ground and the grey-green scrub sped by in a blur. In the distance she saw mountains and white clouds. The sun beat down on her, so high that it seemed to throw no shadows.
Eventually Teresa realized that there was no more landscape for her to find.
She swung the steering wheel to the right, trying to skid off the road, but the car merely moved a few feet to the side. It spun along as smoothly as ever, the tyres apparently moving across the rough ground without touching.
In her rearview mirror, Teresa could see the buildings of San Diego clustered against the shoreline. She remembered the meaning of the acronym LIVER.
She arrived in San Diego on a blisteringly hot day, and went to the silverandblue Chevrolet parked diagonally against the sidewalk. She got the key into the ignition at the first try.
A few moments later she was driving north along 30th Street, and at the intersection with University she took a left. The car had already moved into the rightturn lane, but Teresa swung it across the traffic, forcing it to go the other way. Horns blared around her. The sun was now in front of her, and she lowered the visor to reduce the dazzle in her eyes.
She reached into the glove compartment and took out the automatic pistol that was there.
While she drove she checked it was loaded, then laid it on the seat beside her. She switched on the radio: the Duke Ellington Orchestra was playing 'Newport Up'.
She glanced up into the rearview mirror, straining to see herself, an elderly black woman's face, full of mild concern, looked back at her.
'Hi, Elsa!' Teresa said aloud, smiling at her own reflection.
Apartment blocks had been built on both sides of the road, partially screened by rows of tall palm trees, and these flashed by uniformly. Ahead was the ocean, placidly shimmering. After several minutes of driving, in which the ocean came no closer, she remembered the acronym LIVER.
Teresa spent the rest of the day learning to use the computerized catalogue of available ExEx titles. The first useful information she gleaned was that the Elsa Durdle shareware had been written by an outfit called SplatterInc, based in a town called Raymond, Oregon. She asked Patricia if she knew anything about them.
'More likely to be one person than a business,' Patricia said. 'Some kid working out of a back room, perhaps, who downloaded the imaging software from the internet? Anyone can do it, if they're packing enough computer memory.
'And there's no way of telling where the scenario images came from?'
' Not from the information we have here. 1 suppose you could call them, or write to them. Is there an email address?'
'Just a Post Office box in Raymond.'
'Have you tried running a web search on them? They'll have a site.'
'Not yet.'
Teresa went back to the scenario database, and keyed in the search parameters. A moment later, SplatterInc's list of titles scrolled down the screen. Teresa read through it.
She located the Elsa Durdle scenario, and from this logged the group and category in which it was filed: Interactive/ Police/ Murder/ Guns /William Cook/ Elsa Jane Durdle.
Learning as she went, Teresa worked backwards through the hierarchy of subcategories.
Alternatives to Guns were Automobiles, Bombs, Clubs, Hands and Knives and from each of these there were hyperlinks, presumably to other software producers.
Alternatives to Murder were Arson, Hostage Taking, Mugging, Rape and Sniper. Again there were hyperlinks.
Police was in a long list of categories, which flooded the screen: the alternative offerings &om SplatterInc included Arts, Aviation, Movies, Sex, Space, Sport, Travel, War.
Idly she clicked on Sex, and was astonished at the number of options, all hyperlinked, that unfurled rapidly before her: Amateur, Anal, Astral, Audient, Backsides All, Backsides Big, Backsides Closeup, Backsides Small, Bestial, Bondage, Breasts All, Breasts Big ...
and so on, for dozens of screens.
She clicked it away, and glanced furtively across the room to see if Patricia was watching her.
She was working with another customer on the far side of the room.
Teresa moved up a level to Interactive, and here found the list of main options: Active, Collective, Interactive, Intruder, Nonactive, Observer, Passive, Perpetrator and Victim.
