The Archimedes Effect

U.S. Army’s MILDAT Computer Center

The Pentagon

Washington, D.C.

Jay walked down another seemingly endless corridor on his way to see his liaison with the Army’s MILDAT. His escort this time, a buzz-cut trooper with “Wilcoxen” etched on his name badge, led the way. Another boots-on- the-ground reality trip, and why couldn’t they do it in VR? The horse was gone; closing the barn door now wasn’t going to help. You’d think that a computer guy, even an Army one, would be comfortable in VR.

He wasn’t looking forward to the meeting, since he was going to have to tell this Captain Whoever that his network had been compromised. There was little doubt that it had been—the military records matched the specs he’d found in the alien game too cleanly for there to be any other option. Which meant that either the security work protecting the data had failed, or that someone inside the network had sold out. Social engineering was usually cheaper than hiring a first-class hacker, and a lot easier just to have somebody give you the stuff than working for it. Not as much fun, but easier.

And while being the bearer of bad news was a part of his job, the process of pointing out security holes and finding fault with a colleague’s work was never fun. People tended to greet such news with less than cheery smiles.

Oh, Captain, by the way? All this expensive and dangerous crap everybody is running around trying to figure out? It came out of your unit. Sorry, pal . . .

“Here we are, sir,” said the guard, indicating a frosted-glass door. The guard knocked.

Things could always be worse—I could be escorting people into the Pentagon, wondering when and if they were going to attack me.

A gorgeous and very well-built short-haired blonde opened the door. She was Jay’s age, maybe a few years younger, and she smiled at Jay and his escort. The woman wore an Army uniform with captain’s bars, and a name tag:

R. Lewis.

Whoa! When he’d seen the name in his datafile, “Captain R. Lewis,” he had naturally assumed it was a man. There was a dumb mistake—he knew better.

“Another stray? Thanks, Willie.”

“Anything that gets me to your door, ma’am.” He nodded and left.

Lewis turned to Jay and all the focus was on him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Smokin’ Jay Gridley,” she said, “although I seem to recall that you never inhaled. Come on in.”

Jay frowned. “We couldn’t have met. I’d remember.”

“We haven’t. I’m Rachel Lewis. I was two years behind you at MIT.”

“No shit?” Jay had actually attended most of college electronically, and right around the time MIT and CIT did their e-merge. He liked to joke about CIT being better, but in truth, he was technically a grad of both.

Jay followed her into the office. He noted how neat and tidy it was: books, shelves, everything in place. On her desk was a state-of-the art VR setup that rivaled his own, with a pair of Raptor-vision VR glasses hanging off the side, the word “prototype” stamped on it. They looked newer than the ones he had. He didn’t much like that.

“No shit. I heard all about you in my classes.”

“How’d you wind up in the Army?”

She sat at the desk and stretched, sprawling on her chair with an unself-conscious sensuality.

“Family biz. My father was career Army, my grandfather, great-grandfather, like that. I didn’t have any brothers, so it was up to me.”

Jay nodded absently. “Nice gear.” He waved.

“I know one of the guys at Raptor—he keeps me up-to-date. Helps to know people.”

She paused. “So how are things in crime these days?” She smiled and leaned forward. The top button on her uniform was undone and the gap, although small, was eye-catching.

Hello? Jay was surprised to find himself wanting to look. He’d had colleagues flirt with him before, and it usually took more than a pretty smile or nice hooters to call to him. Lewis was attractive, no question. A chemical thing, that was all.

“Exciting, Captain—a lot more than school.”

“No need for formality here, Jay. Call me Rachel.”

Hey, he was married now, with a son. No harm, no foul.

“Okay, Rachel.” He paused. “Actually, I’m here—”

“Wait, wait—let me guess. You’re here about the lost data.” Had Ellis told her?

“You know?”

“You’re not the only player in the game. One, I run a top-security network. Two, you are the top VR guy for Net Force, and your jurisdiction has recently changed to include the military. You could have come here to compliment me on a job well done, except, three, you don’t look happy to be here, and—”

She leaned forward again.

“Four, I’ve been going over my security logs cross-checking traffic—and I noticed some extra packet requests from one of our nodes. It’s a zero-sum dead end, a shuck. So we have a leak. I don’t know how or who, but it’s there.”

“You already found it?” Well, well. Point for Lewis. Might be a little late, but at least she knew it before he told her. Competence had always been more attractive to him than just hot looks. Though those didn’t hurt.

Yeah? You’re married now, so it doesn’t matter how much more attractive this makes her, now does it? Back away, goat-boy.

There was nothing wrong with looking, was there? Plus it was part of his job—he hadn’t sought her out.

So why did he feel this little stab of guilt?

She reached down and pulled a second pair of Raptor goggles out of a drawer.

“I wanted to investigate it more fully myself before calling it in, but since you’re here—feel up to a stroll?”

Jay didn’t hesitate.

“Sure, let’s go.”

Who did she think she was talking to here? Did he feel up to it? He definitely felt up to it. Be good to get into VR anyway. No question who the better detective was here, after all, was there? As she’d soon find out.

Jay took the goggles.

It would be fun, showing her just how good he was.

Jay slipped the VR shades on his head, adjusting them so that the extra weight of the other gear—olfactory unit and tiny Harmon Kardon sound inserts—were balanced. Then Lewis handed him a small silver box with a strap attached.

“One of my new toys,” she said, “Tactile Feedback Unit. Uses an inducer to stimulate basic skin sensation. They’re not too good yet, but it adds.”

Jay had heard about the units, but hadn’t seen one yet. The basic principle was electric induction via magnetic fields. Unlike a full feelie suit, which used electrodes and localized temperature control to give sensation in VR and covered the entire body, TFUs were designed to do the same thing—without the suit. Nerve pathways were stimulated with magnetic fields and induced to create sensation. He’d heard they were being developed at the MIT media lab—apparently she’d kept close ties with the old school.

“It pays to support your alma mater,” she said, grinning.

Despite the fact that he didn’t want to be, he was impressed that she had the unit—units, plural.

She handed him a set of VR gloves and he finished suiting up.

He started to say something about his VR analogue, but decided to see what she’d come up with. Entering