Rising Storm

L.A., where he'd lived as a kid.

The cab took Massachusetts Avenue by the winding river Charles, and John enjoyed the view, spying the huge dome of one of MIT's buildings long before they arrived at the campus. He asked to be dropped at the admissions office, where he would get a campus map and ask a few questions.

As the cab drove off John shrugged into his backpack, his only luggage, and looked around—taking a deep breath. He liked it here. There was an energy about the place; you could almost feel brains percolating with ideas. He was going to enjoy this.

MIT CAMPUS, CAMBRIDGE,

MASSACHUSETTS

John slipped into the auditorium/classroom quietly and sat down in the last row at the back. Very nearly every seat was filled for this class and he swept the rows with his gaze, looking for Wendy. He thought he saw her in the center of the middle row. Just a sense he had, since he'd never seen her in the flesh, let alone from the back. He settled in to listen. You never knew what knowledge might come in handy.

Too soon the class was over, leaving John hungry for more. Some of it had been a bit esoteric, but what he had gotten was presented in such an interesting way that he envied the students. Good teachers definitely made a world of difference; it was just more fun than doing everything on your own or on the Net.

The girl in the middle row was Wendy. She turned and began to slip out behind the other students, a thoughtful expression on her even features. The others all seemed to be chattering to one another in couples and groups, while she walked slowly and alone toward him.

John felt a nervous electricity in his middle as he looked at her. Slender and graceful, she moved like a dreamer through the stream of students. He stood up as she drew near and fell in directly behind her, waiting until they were outside

to speak.

'Watcher,' he said.

She spun on her heel, her eyes wide and her head at a stiff, almost challenging angle. 'Who the hell are you?' she snapped, a slight frown marring her smooth brow.

He smiled slowly. 'You don't recognize my voice?'

She looked him over, dark eyes assessing. 'You're younger than you look, even with that beard.' Taking a step closer, she narrowed her eyes. 'A fake beard?'

She raised a hand and backed off a step. 'I don't know you.'

'Sure you do,' he said, grinning. 'You've just never met me.'

'Yeah, right. Ciao, kid.' She started to walk away.

Rolling his eyes, John fell into step beside her. 'You know me as AM, we've spoken on the phone. You've done a little Web surfing for me.'

Wendy stopped short and studied him again. 'So what are you doing here?' she asked suspiciously.

With a shrug he said, 'I felt it was time I met you and your team in person. I have some information I'd like to share with you and an artifact to show you, and that couldn't be done by phone or via the Net.' His lips quirked up at the corners.

'So I'm here.'

She looked at him for a long time. 'Hmm!' she said, and started off again. John

watched her walk away, then jogged to catch up with her, walking silently by her side as she thought. Lifting her head suddenly, as though just waking up, she glanced around.

'Um. That was my last class,' she said, giving him a sidelong glance. 'Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not about to introduce you to my 'team' as you call them until I know a little bit more about you. So, why don't we go have a coffee at the student union and talk?'

'Sure. So how's the coffee at the student union?'

'Compared to what?' she growled.

He looked at her wide-eyed. Wow, she's a fierce little thing.

'Uh, compared to the tea?'

A slight smile touched her lips. 'They're both pretty bad, to be honest. Maybe we should stick to soda.'

'Do you drink Jolt?' he asked.

'No! I know all us geeks are supposed to thrive on the stuff, but I do not.' She pushed open a door and led him into a place teeming with students.

'Uh'—he touched her arm, then removed his hand when she glared at it—'it's a little crowded in here for the kind of conversation I had in mind.'

Wendy raised a skeptical brow. 'Nobody here knows you,' she pointed out. '/

don't know you. Which means there's no reason to think anybody is going to eavesdrop.' She shrugged. 'Sometimes the most private place you can find is in a crowd.'

'Yo! Wen-dy!' a large, bearded student bellowed. She grinned and waved.

'And sometimes not,' John said quietly.

'Meeting tonight at eight in Snog's room,' the beard said, leaning close. He grinned at John and moved on.

Wendy gave John a look and went over to a machine, getting herself a diet drink.

John pushed a dollar into the machine and got a Coke, then followed her to an empty table wondering if he should have bought hers. Probably not; buying her a drink might have some significance in the U.S. that a guy who went to an all-male school in South America was unaware of.

Wendy shrugged off her knapsack and sat down, then took a sip of her drink.

John divested himself of his own and sat across from her wondering how to begin. He'd rehearsed things to say, naturally, but felt that he'd somehow gotten off on the wrong foot here. Clearly their Internet acquaintance and one phone call didn't mean that they knew each other as far as she was concerned.

I should have let her know I was coming, he thought. Of course then she could have said don't come and probably would have. And he would have come anyway, in which case she'd be even more hostile than she presently was. Still, showing up unexpectedly and in disguise … He winced inwardly. He'd actually forgotten about it. That's the kind of thing stalkers do, I guess. The last thing he wanted to do was make her think he was crazy. Oh, c'mon, John, she's gonna

think you're crazy anyway. Just a different kind of crazy.

'Well!' she snapped. 'You wanted to talk? Presumably during my lifetime?'

He cupped his chin on his hand and said, 'There's no need to get snippy.'

'Well, what do you expect when you show up like this? In a take beard no less!

I've felt a little weird about you right from the start and I've gotta tell you'—she gave her head a little shake—'I'm really not feeling very good about this.' She flicked a hand at him. 'Not good at all.'

John allowed himself to show some temper. 'Well, Wendy, I find it interesting that you're perfectly comfortable invading the privacy of people you don't know at the behest of someone else you don't know for reasons that you don't know.

But when I attempt to meet you face-to-face to explain it all, you give me this rather obnoxious attitude that screams 'hey, my space is being invaded.'

Her mouth dropped open and she straightened in her seat. Then she let out a little bark of a laugh and opened her mouth to speak.

Before she could get out a word John said, 'Has it ever occurred to you that, never mind that it's unethical, what you're doing might be dangerous, or illegal?'

'No,' she said instantly. 'I'm not that clumsy and I'm not doing anything but looking. Information should be free.'

It was John's turn to stare. God! She's so innocent! What must it be like to feel so invincible. He had at one time, but that was before the T-1000 and he couldn't remember what it had been like.