Virtual Vandals

needed a little excitement in her life.

He pushed his sympathy away. “I think I’ve got a way to get at Sean McArdle, just as your friends wanted. It will be tomorrow, if you need to get anything ready. And you’ll need this.”

Matt tossed Caitlin a small program icon.

When she caught it, her virtual image began to transform. Cat’s shining blond hair turned mousy brown, shrinking back into a severe haircut that, even though it was short, made her hair look stringy. Her heart-shaped face lengthened, the cheeks sinking in, her jaw growing long. Her lips flattened out into a tight line, and her eyes went from blue to a washed-out hazel.

The sweater and jeans morphed into a baggy, unflattering jumper dress covering a cheap, plain white blouse. Bony wrists and nail-bitten hands stuck out from the too-short cuffs. Matchstick legs and ugly brown shoes emerged from the too-long skirt.

Caitlin looked down at her altered self and let out a horrified scream.

“My hair! My clothes…the rest of me! What did you do?” she demanded.

“Don’t burst a valve,” Matt told her. “It’s just a proxy. You’ll need it to get in — just as I’ll need this.”

He activated his proxy program, turning into a gangly redheaded boy with a freckled baby-face, wearing a not-quite-clean white shirt, a too-short tie, and dress pants that were a good inch and a half too short, showing off white gym socks.

Caitlin looked at him and shuddered. “Tell me that’s not the way you actually look,” she begged. “You’d make a perfect Dexter.”

She called up a virtual mirror and stood beside him, examining their reflections. “And you turned me into a real Nerdetta.”

“So nobody would expect that’s you under there — or me.” Matt tapped the rumpled tie on his proxy self’s chest. “But they’d think we look exactly like a pair of serious junior reporters from our school newspaper.”

Cat’s altered face turned to him, her eyes sharp. “Newspaper?”

“I bet you and your friends tried the usual social angles that work with diplomatic brats,” Matt said. “But Sean McArdle doesn’t go out to play — or bring people in for virtual bashes like Lara Fortune’s. No, he’s kind of serious, a real — what did you call it? — a Dexter. He uses the Net for research, not to play around. But he does open up his system for one thing that I bet your pals never thought about. Once a month, he hosts a virtual youth press conference. That’s what’s happening tomorrow. It took a little foozling on the school computers, but I got us clearance to attend as reporters for the Bradford Bulletin.”

“I usually erase that thing right after it’s downloaded to our computers,” Caitlin admitted.

Unless it’s got an article about a big dance, or some nonsense about one of your Leet friends, Matt thought.

Out loud, he just cleared his throat. “I’ll be Ed Noonan, and you’ll be Cathy Carty. Here’s some ID and your clearance.” He handed over a couple of other icons.

“Cathy — sounds like Cat. Good thinking,” Caitlin said. “Is the name you’ve chosen close to your real one?”

Matt just gave her a sour smile. “These people don’t exist, so there’ll be nothing to connect us to them — or to the real newspaper. I’ve chosen Irish names, because I figured that’s the kind of journalist who’d want to go to an Irish kid’s press conference.”

“What’s he going to talk about?” Cat wondered.

“I have no idea,” Matt admitted. “We’ll just have to go, wave a pair of recorders around, and try to keep a straight face, no matter what.”

“It will be different,” Caitlin admitted.

“The conference will be held tomorrow afternoon after school,” Matt said. “What do you want to do, meet here?”

Caitlin deactivated the proxy program, transforming back to her natural self. “Might as well,” she said, coiling her long blond hair around one finger. “But we won’t go directly to the veeyar from here.”

She gave Matt another one of her bitter smiles. “I’ve got a list of good cutout locations. Tonight, I’ll choose one and set it up. It should cover us in case someone takes it into his or her head to backtrace people coming in.”

“Good thinking,” Matt said, his voice flat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

When he arrived at Cat’s veeyar the next day, she was already wearing the Plain-Jane virtual form Matt had engineered for her.

“Oh, it’s me, all right,” she assured Matt, her bony face squinching up in disgust as she looked down at herself. “Trust me. None of the guys would want to wear this.”

Caitlin picked up a virtual tote bag — an awful-looking thing that fit right in with her unfashionable appearance. “Ready to go?”

Matt had already adopted the Ed Noonan proxy before arriving. “Why not?” he said.

Caitlin held out her hand, and Matt took it. They flashed across the Net, coming to rest in a large, very realistic simulated room with a series of stone-topped tables facing a raised platform with a lecture desk, also stone-topped.

Matt released the girl’s hand. “Wait a minute!” he said. “This is the virtual chemistry lab at Bradford!”

Caitlin chuckled. “You aren’t the only one who can foozle the school’s computers.”

Matt gave a wordless grunt. The guy had managed to route a request through the school’s system. Whoever was behind the virtual vandals had completely invaded the computers in Bradford Academy!

“Come on!” Cat checked the dowdy old-fashioned watch her proxy was wearing. “We’re going to be late if you keep fooling around.”

Sighing, Matt took Caitlin’s hand again as she routed them to the press conference using the clearance protocols he had obtained.

Matt had wondered if the Irish embassy’s Net node would turn out to have shamrocks, or be designed in the shape of a quaint cottage. It was almost a disappointment to find that the official site was a typical ultramodern virtual office setup.

They were quickly routed to Sean McArdle’s veeyar, which was configured as a large lecture hall. Matt was impressed at the number of young journalists who had gathered. “We’re going to wind up at the back,” he whispered to Caitlin.

“All the better,” she muttered.

Matt blinked. Then again, Cat was probably right. They could just hang out and listen, away from all the action.

Even so, he was surprised that Cat didn’t take a seat, just standing in the rear.

Exactly on the dot of the hour, Sean McArdle appeared at the podium. He was a tall, intense, shy young man who was obviously terrified at the idea of getting up to speak in front of a crowd. But for some reason — maybe to get over that terror — here he was, conducting a general interview.

McArdle’s voice cracked as he introduced himself, and he gave a sudden, disarming grin. “Don’t think I’ll ever get this speech-making thing right,” he said. “A terrible failing if I ever hope to become a politician.”

But as he went on to talk about Ireland and its economic achievements, Matt had to admit that if McArdle wasn’t a politician, he made a great cheerleader. The young man was definitely proud of his country and where it had gone. “When my father was growing up, we were still accepting handouts from the members of the European Economic Community,” he said. “The joke in those days was, ‘Thank heavens for the German taxpayers,’ because they were paying for the roads and infrastructure to bring us up to speed. I know quite a few of you are descended from Irish immigrants. So I think you’ll know what I mean when I say that certain people — certain countries—always pushed the idea that our people were shiftless, lazy. But thirty years ago, we ‘lazy Irish’ had some of the best-educated young people in Europe. We were getting some of the plum jobs in that country which will remain nameless, becoming involved in computer design, even working on parts of the American space program.”

McArdle gestured around the virtual meeting hall they now occupied. “We’ve been very involved in the Net. All the constructs at this node — including this veeyar — were programmed by Irish engineers. If you like this meeting setup, I’m allowed to give you a copy.”

Now that he was up and talking, a flush of color appeared on his high, prominent cheekbones.