Virtual Vandals

Matt tossed it to her. It landed on the front of her lace and spandex jumpsuit, creating a disgusting inky smear down the front. “It’s a virtual stain. Pretty neat, huh? Or then again, maybe not.”

Lara’s response to the destruction of her costume was an ear-piercing scream.

For a second, Matt felt a stab of conscience at wrecking the girl’s party. He’d thought maybe if he played it for laughs — but this wasn’t funny. He had to keep acting as if this were fun, though.

Matt stepped back. “Maybe I should try and distract you.” This time he came out with what looked like a handful of small pebbles. He turned to a nearby table, where a complicated collection of tubes created a microgravity fountain over the punch bowl. But when he tossed his handful of pebbles in, the contents of the bowl began to bubble and send up clouds of steam. Then came a muted baBOOM! A mushroom cloud of punch rose into the air and began drifting lazily downward in the low gravity. The muffled explosion caused screams and stares.

Cat Corrigan tried to brush off the sweet, sticky drizzle that began coming down on everybody in the room. “Yuck!” she cried as punch began soaking into her outfit and hair. But she was biting her lips to keep from laughing.

It’s only a sim, Matt kept telling himself. It’s not like I’m doing this in the real world. But a furious Lara Fortune had already whirled off to get her parents. In a second, Matt knew, automated security would be closing in on him.

“Take it easy, Cat,” he said with a nonchalant wave. “By the way, nice party.”

From the way Caitlin came dashing at him, Matt wondered if she were going to try tackling him to keep him there.

But all she did was yank loose one of her earrings and stuff it into his hand. “Figure it out when you’re well away from here,” she muttered in the midst of the chaos. “Just get out — now!”

Chapter 5

Saturday morning, Matt asked some of his Net Force Explorer friends to make a virtual visit. They all hovered in Matt’s personal veeyar, leaning over the floating marble slab/table, examining the earring Caitlin Corrigan had given Matt the night before.

“So, at least you wound up with a souvenir from your party-crashing,” Andy Moore said. “You think this Senator’s kid likes you?”

“That’s not the point,” David Gray said. “You usually can’t just take off virtual bits and pieces and have them survive. This earring should have faded away when Matt cut his connection with that party. Since it didn’t, we know there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Silently, Matt handed over a program icon from the collection on his marble desktop — the magnifying glass.

When David held it over the earring, tiny letters sprang into being in the air — thousands of lines of them. David fiddled with the magnifying glass, making the holographic image larger, then scrolling the lines up and down.

“So,” he said in satisfaction, “it’s a program — a communications protocol.”

“Wouldn’t it have been simpler if she’d just passed on her telephone number?” Andy asked.

“Maybe,” Matt admitted. “But these are Leets we’re talking about here. Rich kids. What I’m interested in is the programming, though. You guys are more up on that than I am.”

Although Matt had programmed up the virtual stain he’d used on Lara Fortune’s dress, he’d depended on Andy for the punch-bowl surprise. “What can you tell me?”

Both boys began scanning through the lines of programming language. “It’s very good, if a bit flashy,” David said. “It compresses a lot of information into such a small artifact.”

“Professional,” Andy added.

“Professional as in very good amateur, or is it the work of a paid program designer?” Matt asked.

“No way this could be homemade,” Andy said. “There are copyright notices on some of the subroutines. This is commercial program coding — very high-end, special-designed stuff. Expensive.”

“So Caitlin couldn’t have written it herself?”

Andy shot him a surprised look. “I didn’t know Caitlin Corrigan was a hacker.”

“Neither do I,” Matt said. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out. Somebody had to write the coding that let the virtual vandals take over the Camden Yards computer sim system, not to mention the programming wrinkle that lets these kids hurt people in virtual realities. Let’s call him — or her — the Genius. From what you’re saying, I can scratch Caitlin off my list as the brains behind the vandals. She doesn’t do her own programming.”

Andy gave him a shrewd look. “Are you sure you’re not letting her off because you like her?”

Matt could feel his face growing warm as he tried to defend himself. “I don’t think so,” he said.

I hope not, he thought.

“Whether she’s the Genius or not, Caitlin is my connection to the other virtual vandals,” Matt said. “That’s what I’ve got to keep my attention on.”

“Right.” Andy gave him a wry grin. “Whatever you do, don’t think about the fact that she wants to see you again.”

“I could kill that idiot,” Matt muttered as he sat in his room, facing his computer console.

Andy Moore had a nasty habit of dropping little bombs into a conversation that could go off minutes or even hours after he’d gone — like that little zinger about Caitlin Corrigan.

It was now early afternoon. David and Andy had left ages ago. Mom and Dad were out taking care of errands. And Matt sat staring at his computer with sightless eyes.

Just don’t think about it. The words seemed to echo in his head.

An old story he’d read as a kid came out of his memory. A man suffering from a terrible illness went to the Wise Man of the Mountain to find a cure. “It is easily done,” the Wise Man said. “You must go through a day without thinking of elephants.”

Of course, that didn’t cure the sufferer’s disease. How can people spend any period of time not thinking of something they’re consciously trying to avoid? The thought keeps popping up, like a pesky toothache.

Matt sighed and settled himself in his computer-link chair. He forced himself to relax, letting the chair’s receivers tune into his implants. Telling the thought to go away didn’t seem to be accomplishing much. Doing something was the answer.

In this case, the something would be a virtual visit to Caitlin Corrigan.

Matt opened his eyes and found himself floating in the starry twilight, facing the unsupported marble slab. In the middle was Cat’s earring, right where they’d left it. Matt reached out, then suddenly pulled his hand back. Instead, he went for the glowing red pawn Leif had given him.

Glancing down, he saw he’d been reduced to a stick figure again. Only after donning the proxy disguise did Matt take up Cat’s earring and the lightning-bolt teleconnection icon.

An instant later, he was flashing across the neon cityscape of the Net. Matt found himself passing several governmental constructs. Not surprising, he thought, when you consider that Caitlin’s dad is a Senator.

But suddenly, before he got too deep into government territory, the communication protocol sent him veering off. This was the equivalent of a wealthy, quiet neighborhood on the edges of the government’s systems. The virtual houses were large, but not quite as self-indulgent as the vampire castles or the mansion that housed Maxim’s.

Matt realized his course was taking him to a modest-looking structure with a porch and pillars. It looked strangely familiar. Then Matt recognized it. He was flying toward a simplified version of Mount Vernon, George Washington’s eighteenth-century plantation house.

But he wasn’t headed for a door or window. Matt was flying toward a blank wall.

A little late, he found himself remembering that Cat’s gang could use virtual technology to hurt people.

Nice going, Matt thought. They could crash me out right in front of Caitlin’s house. After the stunts I pulled last night, who’s going to believe me when I try to explain.

At the last moment, Matt jerked to a stop so sudden, it would have flung his stomach up to his throat in real