Virtual Vandals

“An affluent economy led to some problems we’d never have anticipated — like a flood of illegal immigrants. We aren’t a large country, and for centuries we’ve been a single people. That’s made it difficult for would-be refugees to fit in — and everyone hasn’t had the training to share in our prosperity. I know that’s led to some bitterness from people fleeing the strife in the Balkans. But especially in recent years, Ireland has taken the lead in bringing development money to that region, helping to build up the business climate as our economic partners did for us.”

As he began to bring on the holo clips, images, charts, and graphs, young Sean McArdle now seemed completely comfortable with his speech-making.

Maybe he will make it as a politician back home, Matt thought. But now I’m getting bored.

He glanced round at Caitlin to see how she was taking the presentation. With her political family, she probably heard stuff like this all the time.

She stood with her back to the rear wall, half hidden in the shadows, not even bothering to listen.

In fact, she seemed to be fiddling with something in her hands. Matt looked a little closer. What was that? A sticky label?

That seemed to be exactly what she was fooling with. Even as he took a step toward her, she peeled the backing from the label and slapped it onto the wall behind her.

Matt strained his eyes, trying to read whatever it was she’d stuck up.

It seemed pretty silly to him, pushing so hard to get in somewhere if all she wanted to do was a bit of petty vandalism. It would probably turn out to be some nasty anti-Irish slogan spouted by Gerald Savage. What would it do? Glare out in intolerable brightness? Or maybe give off smoke?

Instead, the slapped-on label did something even weirder. Its color shifted, chameleon-like, until it matched the dark green of the wall itself. Rather than standing out, the sticker seemed to be hiding itself.

Matt came closer, trying to find the blasted thing.

But the label was vanishing…not blending in against the virtual paint job, but melting in to become part of the wall itself!

Chapter 8

“What is it?” Caitlin hissed as Matt dashed up — and roughly pushed her aside. “What are you doing?” she demanded, sounding more scared than angry.

He paid no attention, scratching simulated nail-bitten fingers along the wall. Nothing! The sticky label he had seen Cat slap onto the green paint had left no trace.

Correction, Matt thought. It left no visible trace. The blasted thing had somehow become one with this simulated room. Oh, it was possible that the Irish designers’ programming had simply erased an element that didn’t belong. But these are the virtual vandals we’re dealing with, Matt thought. Whoever they’ve got behind them, I can’t believe the genius’s handiwork could disappear so easily. Unless it was built to do that.

He turned cold eyes on Caitlin Corrigan. “That label you were fiddling with — that’s a program icon, isn’t it? Removing the backing — that started the program. Now it’s eased its way into the coding for this simulation — probably for the whole veeyar.”

He caught the flash of terror in her eyes. Even as he wondered why she was getting so upset over what he’d realized, his hand darted out to grab her by the arm.

That was a lucky move. Just as he established contact with her, Cat bailed out of the press conference.

Because he was holding on, Matt followed along as they rocketed wildly through the Net.

Caitlin tried to peel him off, dragging him through roaring rivers of daytime data exchange. Even with flex- time, the hours from nine to five were still the heaviest times for information passage.

Matt hung on for dear life as they bounced around like a pinball moving at light speed. Now he had two questions he really wanted an answer for. What was in that weird label-program she’d left in Sean McArdle’s veeyar? And why would simply asking about it result in this frenzied attempt to run away?

Cat was gulping in air as if she’d been running for miles — or was she simply sobbing? Finally, they pin- wheeled into a familiar setting.

They were back in the virtual chem lab at Bradford Academy.

“You know,” Matt said, “my lab partner managed to make a mistake in here that would have blown us up out in reality. Instead, we got caught in a system freeze and had all our chemicals deleted from the simulation.” He paused. “And, of course, everybody in the class laughed at us because of the big red warning label that appeared —‘UNSTABLE REACTION INITIATED.’ They called us the Unstable Boys for weeks, until somebody else got shut down for spilling hydrochloric acid down the front of his shirt. I guess we were lucky. People still call that guy by the nickname ‘Bernie’—for acid burns.”

You’re babbling, he told himself sternly. Pull the plug on it before you say too much!

Caitlin crouched against one of the stone-topped laboratory tables, her eyes closed. “Just get your hands off. Let me go, will you?” she begged.

“I told you those stories to show that anybody can make a mistake,” Matt said gently. “Didn’t you think I’d ask about that stick-on program if I saw you use it? It’s pretty ingenious, after all. Subtle. Not exactly the style of your jeweled-up pal or that cartoon cowboy, I’d think. Was it whipped up by that guy who morphed from a giant frog into a fancy swordsman?”

Still resting her cheek against the cool stone tabletop, Caitlin stared at him wide-eyed. “I can’t tell you! I can’t!”

“You mean you have to talk it out with your friends first?” Matt said. “I can live with that.”

“Just let me be!” Tears sparkled in Caitlin’s eyes and began streaking across her cheek.

Matt couldn’t stand watching the girl cry. He relaxed his grip on her arm.

Instantly, she disappeared.

Nice going, he told himself sourly. That’s two experiments you’ve blown in here. It’s lucky the monitoring program isn’t on, or there’d be big red letters glaring around me now. He could just imagine the error message: “SOFTHEARTED JERK.”

Matt quickly bailed out of the virtual chemistry lab — it was forbidden territory except for working classes. He’d have been in a lot of trouble if he’d gotten caught in there. Still playing it safe, he visited another busy Net node before returning to his home veeyar.

The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that there was someone behind the virtual vandals he’d seen. Whoever it might be, this genius just about scared the fertilizer out of Caitlin Corrigan. In comparison, she’d been downright calm when her friends had threatened to silence Matt permanently. She’d even been cool when Mr. Jewels — Gerry the Savage — had loomed over her, threatening Cat with a pounding.

What was it about whoever created their programs? Why did that person fill Caitlin with such terror that she just wanted to run away?

Matt couldn’t be absolutely sure about his suspicions. He’d have to dig deeper into Gerald Savage’s background, find out how much programming the English kid knew. Somehow, he’d also have to unmask the other characters and do the same with them. It had been a gut feeling, saying that the stick-label program seemed too subtle compared to the proxies the three boys were using.

But then, maybe somebody really subtle would be able to hide behind an obvious mask….

Matt reached his home veeyar, broke the connection, and sat slumped in his computer-link chair. He could play what-if and maybe until he grew a long gray beard. What Net Force needed was to get a little hands-on with some of the other side’s programming.

He got out of the chair and went to the phone, just managing to catch Captain Winters. The captain was not delighted to hear from him.

“Are you now suggesting that the son of the Irish ambassador is involved with this bunch?” he demanded.