Viewschool Read online

  "If you're right, how can you help that poor girl?"

  I glanced at my wristwatch; class would be starting in ten minutes. “I need to make her feel safe, Dori. Trouble is, the ViewNet environment probably reminds her too much of VR already. Maybe I can borrow a page from that kid I told you about and give Maddie some form of armor."

  "I'm sure you'll do the right thing. Now get out of here and let me honk my nose in peace. Some things aren't fit for company."

  "Okay. Guess what I'm making you for lunch? More chicken soup!"

  "Wonderful. Be elsewhere."

  * * * *

  For three weeks I thought Marty was right, that I had everything under control. My only failure was Maddie; every way I imagined to help her could backfire, give her a sense of claustrophobia at best or imprisonment at worst. And I was afraid that if I blew it, there'd be no second chance.

  Kekipi, in particular, had grown. He'd lost fifty pounds of sullenness and seemed eager, hungry even, for raw knowledge. Buddha was still grinning, but he was learning; Q-Ball was down to one outburst a day; Cher wasn't causing trouble and was bright as a star. Even White Night was slowly coming out of his shell if not his armor. Oddly enough, he and Q-ball seemed to be growing a friendship. Their interchanges were often fascinating:

  "Hey, White Kike, why the skinny e-con? Even with that candy shell, you ‘bout thin as a shadow."

  "Got a reason, Q-tip. I'm trying to feel stronger. The idea is that I'm Superman, but real."

  "No way. Superman be ripped."

  "That's what I'm talking about. How would Superman get enough exercise to grow humongous muscles?"

  "Huh. Well, Superman don't need no armor."

  "You don't get it. The armor is just a visible symbol. For invulnerability, you know. I don't really need it myself."

  "Yeah, you do."

  One evening I called up Enhancement's Teresa Laudy and heaped as much praise as I thought she could stand. She simply asked if I'd come up with any new ideas for next year.

  * * * *

  October rolled around and its first Monday dented my confidence. White Night glanced around the classroom and froze when he saw Cher. I couldn't imagine why; her proxy hadn't changed and she seemed to be minding her own business. I asked the boy privately if anything was wrong, but he wouldn't answer. Buddha was also in a strange mood. He kept pinching his own legs, moaning, but almost silently. I suppose he didn't want anyone to know how much it hurt. He wouldn't speak to me either.

  That evening I went out to the South Shore Supermarket and got another shock. Since I wasn't a paying member, my ViewNet services were supposed to terminate an hour after class. Instead, the supermarket was Hallucination Central. Not every shopper subscribed to Enhancement or the others, but I noticed two Greek gods, a bipedal dolphin, three movie stars, a storm cloud, Mona Lisa, and a miniature giant sequoia. I don't know what these people saw when they looked at me, but Mona Lisa and the cloud giggled. I got home with groceries and a bag of bad mood. Tendayi informed me that daddy had a black cloud around his head and I remarked that I'd just passed one of those in the store.

  While my boys were putting away the perishables, I buzzed one of Enhancement's service reps, Hiro Sugata, and he promised to look into my problem although he clearly thought I was nuts to complain about getting a free ride. I was upset. Even if I had money to burn, I'd never sign up for ViewNet. I want to see things as they are....

  When we got to bed, my wife had a surprise attack of passion, a surprise to me anyway. Ever since we added Tendayi to the fold, those glory days when we used to make love at least four times a week have gone the way of the Roman Empire. But instead of basking in joy, I was basted with worry, a sense of my world turning sour. When we finished, Dori commented, not unkindly, that it was nice “making like."

  "Sorry, honey,” I whispered. “It's just that this batch of students has gotten under my skin. I've got a bad feeling."

  "You're a good teacher, Bill, and your students always get under your skin. They're lucky to have you. But sometimes there's not a blessed thing you can do and you've got to learn to lay back and enjoy the scenery."

  Tuesday's class was the worst yet. I'd thought White Night was as scared as anyone could be. He proved me wrong. His trembling developed such a rigid intensity that I almost thought he was having a seizure. And Buddha stopped pinching his legs and took to pounding them. He only said one thing to me all day: “I can't get them to stop!"

  "You can't get who to stop?"

  No response.

  One other oddity: Maddie wasn't stuck in her usual manikin mode. She repeatedly shifted in her seat as if she was trying to sit sideways—today facing Kekipi, Buddha and Cher—but during the lecture portion of class, ViewNet was programmed to keep the student proxies facing me. Eventually, she simply kept her head turned to the left, which was fine by ViewNet. I had no idea what it meant.

  I tried lifting the mood by showing off a fancy animation, but only Q-Ball, Kekipi, and Cher paid attention. Reluctantly, I concentrated on teaching just those three and by the time school was over for the day I was drained.

  Wednesday was Tuesday again, but less fun. Ditto Thursday, Friday, and most of the following week. By the time Friday morning limped around, I was ready to quit.

  "Concentrate on achievable goals,” Marty Robley had advised when he'd stuck me with this assignment. Today, I focused on making it to the lunch break, which seemed barely achievable. I kept watching the clock so I knew it was 10:45 when Madeline Broms abruptly stood, pointed an accusing finger at Cher, and shouted, “Stop it!"

  Enhancement's implants are sensitive to blood supply. Cher's real face turned pale but her proxy merely lifted its eyebrows questioningly. Aside from White Night who didn't react, the rest of us were stunned.

  "What do you mean, Madeline?” I sputtered.

  Maddie sat down and for one electrifying instant met my gaze directly. I actually thought she was going to answer me. Then her eyes slid away and she returned to her semi-coma. But my fantasy of quitting died right there.

  And the day hadn't exhausted its wonders. Shortly after the lunch break, Maddie did it again. This time, however, she told Cher, “Leave them alone!"

  Leave who alone? White Night and Buddha? After Maddie and my nerves settled down, I stared at Cher hard enough to peel paint as she appeared in both proxy and OSP. I couldn't see that she was doing anything special, let alone anything wrong. Perhaps her Sherlock Holmes pipe was slightly larger and whiter than when I'd first seen it, but that hardly seemed suspicious.

  After dismissing the class, I sat at my desk and tried to jab my tired brain into coming up with at least one theory. The brain still hadn't produced when Taff and Tendayi tag-teamed me for hot cocoa-making duties and from then on I was too busy to worry about anything but my family.

  * * * *

  Sunday night, I got a call from one Jackson Duke, a trouble-shooter for Enhancement Incorporated with one hell of a basso profundo.

  "Dr. Phillips, I understand you had a problem last Monday."

  "Definitely. Kept getting ViewNet signals when I wasn't supposed to. I talked to your technician, can't remember his name."

  "Hiro Sugata. He passed the buck, which kept sliding along until I caught it. I appreciate your bringing this to our attention. We seem to have a problem ourselves."

  "Oh?"

  "Your account shows irregularities."

  "Such as?"

  Duke hesitated. “User modifications without user consent. Time-code editing and unsigned permissions."

  "Care to translate?"

  He cleared his throat. “Someone's messing with you. We haven't yet identified your, ah, benefactor."

  I knew who that someone had to be. “So I take it this person hacked into your system?"

  "Dr. Phillips, you're driving under the influence of Hollywood. No one has ‘hacked’ into any major business network for the last decade. Passwords and key-cookies are still used, but only used in hom
e and local networks; today, business confirmation is done with biological implants. No, I'm afraid what we have here is administrative abuse."

  "You mean one of your employees has it in for me?” No way that Cher could have administrative privileges at Enhancement. Or could she?

  "You may be, ah, exaggerating the viciousness of the attack,” he pointed out. “You've only suffered an extension of a rather expensive service for a few hours. Which doesn't mean,” he added, “that I'm not taking your complaint seriously."

  "I should hope. A free lunch shoved down your throat isn't so free."

  "Point taken."

  "Tell me something, Mr. Duke."

  "Call me Jack."

  "Jack, does your company always hire people in person? I understand that some businesses use the Internet for—"

  "Strictly in person."

  One idea shot to hell. “Have you ever put anyone of High School age in a responsible position?"

  "A minor? Certainly not. What are you getting at?"

  "I can't explain how, but I think one of my students is involved in this. If you've looked up my account, you must know about Last Chance and how much Enhancement has done to help us."

  He chuckled. “As Security chief, I'm one of the people that had to give Teresa Laudy the green light in the first place. Our marketing division was sweating blood that the competition might learn what we've been up to. I'm glad I overrode their veto. Terry tells me the program's been a hit."

  Not lately. “Your people have done a fantastic job for sure. Thank you. But I'm wondering if you could do me another favor."

  "Yes?"

  "Go over the accounts of my students. I'd like to know if there are any other ‘irregularities.’”

  "I will, and I'll let you know when we find out who's responsible for your extracurricular activities. Meanwhile, I'm e-mailing you my phone number. Call me immediately, anytime day or night, if ViewNet misbehaves."

  * * * *

  Monday, I woke up with a scratchy throat and a matching wooziness. Dori's fault I told myself, unfairly since she'd gotten over her cold weeks ago. If she'd felt like this, no wonder she'd played hooky from work! I had no such luxury; we can't have subs at Last Chance.

  When class began, White Night was sitting oddly, his legs hunched to his belly. He kept bringing his right hand up to his visor and then reaching out to make a grasping motion in midair. In my OSP, his posture and performance were the same except that I could see his mouth open and his throat work after his hand approached.

  I watched him repeat the cycle four times before I understood what was happening. He was lying on his side, taking pill after pill.

  The class was silent. Everyone was watching White Night. In my OSP, Cher's eyes were wide and she mimed swallowing each time Daniel took another pill. I grabbed my phone and scrolled down through Daniel's information until I found the phone number of his home address. I forced my hands to keep steady long enough to push the right buttons.

  Only one ring before someone picked up. “Hello, hello?” said an elderly female voice.

  "Am I speaking with Daniel Greenburg's grandmother?"

  "Ya, this is Ester Greenburg. Who are you? Do you know where is Danny?"

  Damn! “Then he's not at home? I'm Bill Phillips, Daniel's teacher."

  "When Ike and I got up, he wasn't in his room! Can you believe it, mister teacher? Two years, every day we've been nudging the boy to leave the house for a minute, maybe two. For a growing boy to get no fresh air, it isn't right. We were afraid he was kidnapped so we called the police, but the meshuganas say it's too soon for—"

  "Mrs. Greenburg, I'm sorry to alarm you, but we've got to find Danny right away. He wasn't kidnapped, but he may be in trouble. Any idea where he could have gone?"

  "In trouble?” Obviously, Daniel meant the world to her. “What trouble? He wasn't kidnapped? You are sure?"

  "Yes. No time to explain everything."

  "Well, do something then! Where he could be, I can't imagine."

  "I have another way to track him down and I'll get right on that. Meanwhile, try to stay calm and if you get any ideas about his location, please call me right away.” I gave her my sat-phone number and had to repeat it twice before she got it all written out. “I'll be in touch. I promise."

  I hung up and clicked on my e-mail account. Had Duke remembered to send me his number? He had. Two numbers and I punched in the first, which had a Chicago prefix.

  "Vice-President Duke's office. How may I direct your call?” an impersonal male voice asked.

  "I need to reach Jackson Duke."

  "He's in conference at the moment. If you leave your name and the purpose of—"

  Another time I might've been impressed that Duke was such a honcho. “Look, this is an emergency. He said to call him day or night."

  "Your name?"

  I supplied it and got put on hold. Within a minute, Duke's voice was rumbling in my ear.

  "Morning, Dr. Phillips. What's up? I haven't had time yet to look into—"

  "I think one of my students is trying to commit suicide; from his motions he seems to be stuffing himself with pills. And he's not where he's supposed to be."

  "Which student and what city?"

  "Daniel Greenburg. Detroit."

  I heard the tapping of fast fingers on a computer keyboard. “I have contacts in the Detroit Police Department. Want me to call them?"

  "Yes. But first, can you locate Daniel with ViewNet?"

  "Sorry, it doesn't work that way. Once transmission on demand is activated, the user's gear makes the demands and any ViewNet repeater will act as a local server. It's comparable to the Internet in the way information packets go by the most convenient route available at any given moment. We have no way of tracing a user physically."

  "Jack, most of that went over my head. But Daniel will die if we can't find him fast. Can you help or not?"

  "I'm thinking.” He was silent long enough for me to notice how tightly Cher's hands were clenched. Her eyes were roaming back and forth from White Night to me.

  "Tell him ‘handshakes,'” she said.

  "Do you even know who I'm talking with?” I snapped.

  "Mr. Phillips, we can hear your end of the conversation.” She said this without sarcasm or contempt: more proof she was scared.

  "Jack, does ‘handshakes’ mean anything to you?"

  "There's an idea!” he said. “Oh Lord, I'm going to have a million pissed-off customers, but I'll do it."

  "Tell me."

  "Repeaters and personal implants exchange confirmation handshakes when they make contact. And in a way they're two sides of the same coin, electronically somewhat reversible. The way a microphone and speaker are reversible. I assume you're calling from your home in—let's see—you're here in Chicago?"

  "Right across town from you."

  "Could be worse. We'll shut off every repeater in Detroit and use your implants to turn you into a weak repeater. So what we'll have to do—no, triangulation will make this go a lot quicker. I'll need to get you to Detroit ... along with two of your students; adding anyone extra to your school network would take too long. Just a sec. Ah! Curtis Bouden also lives in Chicago and Elaine Carpenter is in Pittsburg—close enough. I see that your class is in session. Ask those two if they're willing to help."

  "Jack! Detroit is three hundred miles away!"

  "That's why I'll be sending out, um, chauffeurs to take you and your students to the nearest airports. We'll throw you into private jets and you'll reach Metro Airport in half an hour. Best we can do."

  "Q-Ball, the Enhancement man wants you and me to go to Detroit, meet up with Cher, and go looking for White Night. Are you in?” He nodded. “How about you, Cher?” Another nod.

  "We're all set on my end, Jack."

  "Wait outside and tell your students to do likewise."

  "Thanks!"

  After passing the instructions on to Q-Ball and Cher and going over the situation with the class as a
whole, I checked my sat-phone's charge and confirmed that Duke's and the Greenburg's phone numbers were stored in memory. I shoved it into a pocket, chalked “Love you, back soon—Dad” on the kitchen blackboard, grabbed a coat and house keys, headed out the door, and sat on my front step. After one look around, I dashed back into the house to fetch my ViewNet controller, which fit into a coat pocket. I returned to my post on the step and called Dori. She promised to knock off work early and get home before the kids could burn down the house.

  Chicago was living up to its nickname this morning and the air had a premature winter bite. At least I didn't have to freeze for long. Five minutes later, I heard the sound of an approaching siren but didn't think it had anything to do with me until a flashing CPD cruiser squealed to a stop in front of my house. Duke was a man with pull. As I ran down the walk, a cop jumped from the driver's side and gestured for me to ride shotgun. We took off at about Mach one, sirens wailing.

  "I'm Officer Brown,” announced the cop who didn't reach word four during our trip to O'Hare. Amazing how fast you can get places in Chicago without speed limits and a siren to clear the way; but I was too worried to appreciate the experience. And the ride had an eerie aspect: ViewNet class was still in effect. My students were phantoms in the sunlight, but they seemed to surround the cruiser, keeping up effortlessly. White Night was as still as a corpse. Madeline was gazing downwards and I couldn't see her face. Buddha was wearing his usual rictus, but today he wasn't torturing himself. You win some, but I sure as hell wasn't willing to lose any....

  "What up?” Kekipi asked but I shook my head to fend off questions. I didn't want Brown to think I was talking to myself and I wasn't in the mood to explain that I was really addressing a mutant snake.

  Instead of proceeding to one of O'Hare's terminals, we roared through a side-gate barely opened for us in time. We pulled up to a big Gulfstream waiting on a narrow runway far from the ones used for commercial flights. My wife's company rented a midsize Gulfstream when they wanted to fly important people to important meetings—they couldn't afford to buy one outright. Q-Ball was waiting on the tarmac.

  Brown deposited me and left without saying goodbye. I hurried towards the jet but stopped when I got close to Q-Ball. Since we were together physically, he was sheathed in his proxy and I could barely make out the smaller form underneath.