Virtual Vandals

“I’m afraid he wasn’t really…tight…with anyone,” the plump boy said.

“He liked to work off on his own,” Carrot Top said.

Matt didn’t dare look at David. Hearing that line from a group that looked like charter members of Dangerous Loners in Training, he was afraid he’d start to laugh.

The rest of the day wasn’t funny, though. Once again, Matt had no chance of getting next to Cat Corrigan. In fact, he saw her only once in the halls, and that was at a distance.

As Matt headed for the lunchroom, he saw Sandy Braxton hurrying up and waving.

What is it with this guy? Matt wondered irritably. Is he that afraid of failing history?

“Hey, Matt! See you right after lunch, right?”

Matt looked at him in bafflement.

“The Pickett’s Charge reenactment, remember?” the other boy said. “I cleared it with Dr. Fairlie yesterday. My dad’s friend says it actually shows Armistead getting hit and what happens afterwards. Great, huh?”

“Yeah. Great,” Matt echoed. Just at that moment, Cat Corrigan passed by, surrounded by what looked like an impenetrable wall of girlfriends.

Matt was going to ask Sandy to sit with them, hoping to slip a note to Cat, but the rich kid was already moving off. “I already dropped the datascrip off at the library,” he said. “See you there.”

With a defeated shrug, Matt went in to find something to eat.

Walking down the hallway after lunch, Matt had no idea what he’d just eaten. He’d thought it was soybean mock-meat, but it seemed to leave a fish-oil aftertaste in his mouth.

I really should try and remember what it is, he told himself, just so I can never order it again.

He arrived in the library, where Sandy Braxton sat eagerly awaiting him. Mr. Petracca, the librarian took attendance. Then Sandy went up and spoke quietly.

The librarian turned to his console, cued the holo-screen, and gave a couple of commands. “I have the authorization from Dr. Fairlie for Alexander Braxton and Matthew Hunter, and the datascrip you left for me.” Mr. Petracca cued the system and handed a printout to Sandy. “You can use Lab Six. Here’s your authorization code.”

Sandy marched out into the hall with a surprised Matt following. He’d expected to watch the reenactment in holo, probably with a pair of earphones. Somehow, Sandy had wangled a visit to one of the veeyar labs!

“These reenactment people must have plenty of bucks to create such a high-grade sim,” Matt said.

“Nothing but the best for the Virginia Volunteers,” Sandy assured him with a grin. “This will be great! We’ll be right in the center of the action!”

The veeyar labs were actually part of the library, overseen by Mr. Petracca’s console. They represented a serious investment, even for a ritzy school like Bradford. Automated doors hissed after the boys keyed in the code the librarian had given them. Lab Six was one of the smaller setups, with only four computer-link chairs. Matt realized with a slight shock that he’d recently been on the other side of the computer-link in this computer system. He and Caitlin had passed through the virtual chem lab on their way to Sean McArdle’s press conference.

A small but extremely expensive computer console faced the four chairs. Sandy slipped in the school’s datascrip, booting the computer for independent use. Then he reached into his pocket and came out with another datascrip. This one was decorated with the old Confederate flag, the stars and bars.

“What do you expect from an outfit called the Virginia Volunteers?” Sandy said with a grin. “Of course they play a Rebel unit!”

“You’re not going to play the whole fight, are you, Sandy?” Matt asked as the other boy went to insert the datascrip with the simulation. “The artillery barrage alone went on for two hours.”

Sandy shook his head. “Nah. We don’t have time for that. I’ve got it cued from where the Confederates fire their rifles and make the final charge.” He gestured to the computer-link chairs. “Plant it — we’re almost ready.”

Matt took a seat, and so did Sandy. “Computer, load Gettysburg simulation, from cue two-two-seven.”

Leaning back in the chair, Matt let the receptors tune into his implants. There was a slight feeling of disorientation, but it wasn’t as noticeable as the brain-buzz that took place with his unit at home.

That’s the mark of a really expensive system, he thought. He’d heard the best systems have no sensory threshold at all. You’re just there in the sim.

He closed his eyes and found himself on a grassy hillside, a perfect place for a picnic — if the artillery barrage hadn’t passed through. Some trees had branches torn away; others had their trunks shattered by incoming shot and shell. A line of old-fashioned cannon stood in front of a stone wall. Several guns had been hit, too. The heavy metal tubes of the cannon barrels had been torn from their wooden carriages.

Matt gulped slightly when he saw the still, bloody forms of the cannoneers lying beside their wrecked guns.

Man, he thought, they go all out on these reenactments.

There was only one thing wrong with the picture. It was still a picture, incredibly realistic, but nothing was moving. The infantry crouching behind the stone wall were motionless. The blue-clad soldiers didn’t even seem to breathe. The grass was absolutely still, not waving in the breeze.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Sandy Braxton’s voice called.

Matt turned, and his stomach did a flip-flop.

A long, ragged line of men in gray and brownish uniforms was coming up the hill, frozen in mid-step. Information that he’d read came swimming up from his memory. The battle line had been a mile long, composed of fifteen thousand men. There were a lot less of them now, after marching almost half a mile through a storm of death. They looked grim, slightly hunched over, as if they were walking into a stiff wind. Most of the men were bringing up their rifles to aim.

“Now I know how the little duck in the shooting gallery feels,” Matt joked. “I really think we’d be better off watching this from behind the Confederate lines.” He gestured toward the thousands of rifles. “Looks like it’s going to get a little noisy around here.”

“Suit yourself,” Sandy said, stepping through a gap in the line. “Armistead ought to be over here, leading the left wing.”

When they reached what looked like a good vantage point, Sandy clapped his hands over his ears. “Execute!” he yelled.

Matt quickly followed his example as the Confederate line suddenly leapt into life, aiming their weapons and firing.

The sound of the rifle fire wasn’t what Matt had expected. Instead of the sharp, metallic rap he was familiar with from the holos, these weapons gave off a bass fwoomp! accompanied by clouds of grayish powder smoke.

The objectives ahead disappeared in the powder-smoke haze, but the troops marched on.

“Watch carefully now,” Sandy advised. “This next part is going to hurt.”

Even as he spoke, one of soldiers in the line ahead suddenly whirled around and swung his musket. The rifle butt caught Sandy in the side of the head. He went down like a poleaxed steer.

Injured in veeyar!

Matt rushed to his classmate. But even as he moved, he saw that three soldiers were moving out of line to come toward him. Each of them had a bayonet on the end of his rifle barrel.

Taking a step back from Sandy, Matt watched the gleaming, foot-long lengths of steel swing to follow him.

He didn’t know how, but the Genius — Rob Falk — had been using the school’s systems to check up on Matt. When he saw Sandy and Matt’s names logged for the virtual lab, he’d set up this trap. Very slick. Very deadly.

This sim had just changed from the Battle of Gettysburg to the fight of Matt’s life!

Chapter 15