Spark - ARC (2 page)

“Marny!” Jennet gave her friend a hug, her slight form dwarfed by the bigger girl. Marny was solid, physically as well as emotionally.

“Good to see you two,” Spark said. “The gang’s almost all here. Jennet, is your dad coming?”

“He’s stuck at work, but sends his best wishes and an open invitation to come stay with us. You know, whenever you’re passing through on your international tours.”

They all laughed. Crestview wasn’t on the way to anywhere.

“I might, actually. Now that VirtuMax owns this town, I imagine they’ll want me back from time to time.”

“Good,” Roy said, a little too smugly. “There are other reasons to come back here, of course.”

Spark caught Jennet’s eye. Although he’d matured some, Roy Lassiter could still be a prime ego-head.

“Right,” Marny said. “And I hate to tell you this, Roy, but you’re not anywhere near the top of the list.”

Tam let out a snort, and Jennet held up one hand.

“Stop it,” she said. “Is this really how we want to say goodbye to Spark?”

“Just like old times.” A hint of a smile tugged at Tam’s mouth. “Think of all those happy in-game memories.”

“Right.” Spark rolled her eyes. “Especially the parts where we almost got killed.”

“We’ll talk, though,” Jennet said. “We all have each other’s messager numbers, right?”

“We have to.” Tam’s voice grew serious. “Feyland launches next week, which means our work is just starting. We need to be on the lookout for… you know. Freaky things.”

Jennet nodded, and Marny crossed her arms. Spark let out a low breath. Yeah, they knew. Things like fey magic seeping out of the game into the mortal world. Gamers led astray, stumbling into a realm of wonder and trouble far beyond anything they’d imagined when they entered the virtual reality of a sim game.

“I’m sure we’ll all keep watch,” Zeg said. He handed Spark a paper sack. “Here. I baked you some cookies.”

That, more than anything, made sorrow tighten her throat. Zeg’s cookies were legendary.

“Miss Jaxley,” Burt called. “We need to get you to the airport.”

Jennet, her blue eyes glinting with tears, hugged Spark again. Tam was next, then Marny, who nearly cracked her ribs. Zeg gave her a bear hug, and for a second Spark missed her dad, missed her whole family with a quick, sharp pain.

Still, she knew her family was happy for the opportunities and the life she’d chosen. Not to mention the big portion of her earnings she always sent home.

“Spark. I’ll miss you.” Roy put his arms around her, and it was too tender, too close to the real thing.

But
almost
wasn’t enough. Regret surged through her, bittersweet.

“Bye, Roy,” she said softly.

He bent to kiss her, and at the last second she turned her face so that his lips grazed her cheek, not her mouth.

Trying to ignore the hurt in his eyes, she stepped back and made herself smile. At the curb, Burt opened the limo door and cleared his throat.

“Stay out of trouble, team,” she said.

Then, before she made a total spectacle of herself, she ducked into the car. Burt closed the door behind her, and the tinted glass hid the tissue she used to blot her tears. Internationally famous gaming stars didn’t cry.

Much.

***

Aran Cole slid on the fake glasses with the dark frames, and turned to face his friend, Bix Chowney. The flickering fluorescent light in Bix’s old garage cast a sickly glow over everything, but Aran was fond of the place; lumpy couch, faint mildew smell, and all.

It was the closest thing he had to a home. All he needed was a place to sleep, a hotplate, and power for his sim-system. The Viper was installed in the corner, hidden under a tarp when he wasn’t gaming.

“How do I look?” he asked.

Bix tilted his head, the light giving his blond hair a greenish cast. “Boring, and respectable. That’s freaky, man. How’d you do that?”

“It’s all in the attitude. I just imagine I’m a geeklet from a nice, suburban family, and presto! No more slacker gamer.”

He’d also re-dyed his hair to its underlying black, removing the blue streak, and had changed into the one button-down shirt he owned. His other shirts were all logo tees featuring obscure bands or gamer jokes, and he needed to project a more upper-class persona. At least until he passed through SimCon’s registration.

“You making fun of me?” Bix punched his shoulder, hard enough to make it count.

“Hey—not my fault you’re all well-adjusted and middle class. But you’re not a geeklet.”

Bix wanted to be edgy, but befriending Aran was the nearest he got. Not that Aran would recommend his particular lifestyle. Even Bix didn’t know about Aran’s other existence as the prime hacker known as BlackWing. He could find the exploits in any game, slipping in between the cracks in the code. Sadly, selling game hacks on the gray market wasn’t making him rich. In fact, it was barely enough to survive on.

He needed enough cash to get his own apartment instead of couching it at Bix’s and living off high-jolt soda and packaged ramen.

Aran’s folks would feed him, grudgingly. Even though he was eighteen now, he still had a room at home. It stayed empty, though—just a place to store his stuff. That house held too much history and not enough forgiveness. Not even close. Unsaid words piled up like knives until he felt he was being sliced alive by their sharp edges.

He swigged the last of his super-caffeinated drink. The carbonation stung his throat and nose, but he needed the boost. It was way too early for him to be awake.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing his bag, a brown messenger pouch he’d liberated from his older brother.

Bix followed him out of the garage, carefully locking up. Aran had an extra key, though he’d resorted to climbing through the back window a couple times to keep Bix’s parents from seeing him. He didn’t think the Chowneys would approve of Aran squatting in their old garage. Not that they ever used it, with the fancy new construction they’d built out front to house their grav-cars.

The metro stop was six blocks away. Aran hunched his shoulders against the February drizzle and let Bix babble on about how excited he was to go to SimCon. It was the first time their city had hosted the gaming convention, and the nerds and geeks were completely turbo.

“Can you believe VirtuMax is
finally
unveiling the FullD system?” Bix’s voice rose with enthusiasm. “It’s been years since they announced the project. I hope it’s as prime as they claim.”

“Me too.”

Despite the nonchalance he projected, Aran was excited—though not for the same reasons. He was burning to see VirtuMax unveil their long-delayed FullD system and try the immersive new game that came with it: Feyland. If he could get a head-start on cracking the programming, he’d be set. Make enough cash to move someplace where the sun actually shone in the winter.

Maybe he’d buy one of those old-style camping vans, figure out a way to install his gaming systems, and travel around, following the warmth and the cons.

But first, he had a game to hack.

“Spark Jaxley will be at the debut.” Bix grinned. “I hope we can get close enough to touch her.”

Practically every gamer in the world was in love with the celebrity simmer—guys and girls alike. She was cute, sure, but Aran would bet that most people never realized—the way he, as a true hacker, did—that her gaming skills were flawless.

Which probably meant she was a class A diva.

“You can ask her out,” Aran said as they headed down the dingy steps of the subway station. “Guy like you, how could she refuse?”

“Shut it,” Bix said. “At least we’ll get to see her play.”

In the stink and whoosh of the tunnels, Bix passed his wrist, with its embedded chip, over the gate scanner. Aran dumped a handful of grubby coins into the machine. If Bix weren’t with him, he would have jumped the gate, but he was playing it straight today. No thrill of eluding the security guys and dashing onto the train at the last second.

It was a quiet ride down to the convention center, though the train filled the closer they got. Half the passengers were dressed for a day at the office. The rest were obviously on their way to SimCon, flaunting their gamer garb and inner freaks. Aran concentrated on relaxing, sinking deeper into his character of regular-gamer-geek.

“Do you think the plan will work?” Bix asked as the train pulled into the downtown station.

“Of course.” Aran hoped.

They went along with the flow of people headed out of the station and toward the gleaming glass and steel complex housing the convention center. Once inside the main building, they were hit with the smell of industrial carpet and the babble of excited fans.

“Volunteers, over there.” Bix pointed at the sign, then cut across the crowd.

Aran followed, rubbing his thumb over the chip glued on the inside of his wrist. As long as no one took a close look, he’d pass.

“Slow down,” he said, tapping Bix’s shoulder.

“Sorry.”

Bix fell back, fidgeting with the edge of his coat. They joined the queue at the volunteer check-in table, and Aran pushed his friend ahead. Best to let the genuine guy go first. The lady in front of them was wearing sparkly wings. She had to take them off and let the security guard on duty inspect them to prove they weren’t wired as transmitters or something. Finally approved, she grabbed her badge with a loud snort of annoyance and stomped off, wings glittering.

Aran swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and nudged Bix forward. Show time.

CHAPTER
TWO

A
ran made himself breathe regularly, despite the sudden speeding of his heartbeat. It wasn’t as if he’d get arrested if this didn’t work—but he’d certainly be kicked to the curb. He didn’t have the cash for a ticket, and he wouldn’t pass any kind of background check. This was his only chance to get into SimCon.

The man at the volunteer check-in table was thin and pale, with a silver stud piercing his left eyebrow. He looked up at Bix with a disinterested expression.

“Name?”

“Bix Chowney. And my friend, Aran Cole.”

“Scan.”

Bix passed his wrist over the scanner, which chirped acknowledgement. The man at the table flipped through his alphabetized box, then handed Bix his volunteer badge. It was attached to a bright red lanyard with
VirtuMax
printed up and down the entire length, leaving no doubt about who was the biggest sponsor at SimCon.

“Here’s your registration packet. Gofer Central is down the hall. Next.”

With what he hoped was a casual expression, Aran passed his wrist over the scanner. The machine remained silent.

“Not again,” Aran said, putting frustration behind the words. “That’s the third time this week.”

He made a show of pulling back his cuff and inspecting his wrist, letting the man at the table see the glint of the chip.

“Seriously?” Bix said. “I thought you had that replaced.”

He hit the right blend of exasperation and nerves, and Aran swallowed back a smile.

“Yeah, well, my mom’s been too busy.” Aran waved his arm over the scanner again, with the same lack of result.

“Spell your last name,” the man said in a bored voice.

Aran did, and kept himself from looking at Bix in triumph when the man gave him his badge and packet.

“Keep your badge visible at all times,” the man told them. “Both of you, head to Gofer Central. Down that hall, second door on the left. Next.” He looked past them, their names and features already forgotten.

Turning away from the table, Aran let a grin cross his face. That had gone more smoothly than he’d hoped.

“We did it! We got you in.” Bix was smiling like a fool.

“You were good back there,” Aran said. “Ever think of becoming an actor?”

“Not with pros like you showing how it’s done. I never would have guessed that was a fake ch—”

“Hey, don’t shout it to the whole con.”

Not that wearing a fake wrist-chip was illegal. People who couldn’t afford the real thing sometimes put on dud chips for show, but duping the authorities by pretending to be legitimate was a road to trouble. The longer Aran could avoid official notice, the better.

He had his badge now, which would give him access to almost everywhere in the conference. Gofers were the lowest level of con volunteer, and as a result nobody looked at them too closely.

Which was exactly how he wanted it.

Gofer Central was impossible to miss. The big hand-lettered sign was their first clue, along with the volunteers darting in and out of the room. Just inside the door stood a dark-haired girl wearing glasses and holding a tablet. Her badge read
Matila—VC
.

“Hi,” she said when Aran and Bix stepped over the threshold. “I’m Matila, the volunteer coordinator. Badges, please.”

They held them up and she scanned them with her tablet. A check mark appeared by their names.

“Welcome to SimCon, guys. Ever volunteered at a gaming convention before?”

“Nope,” Aran said, while Bix shook his head.

“Okay,” she said. “Check your packets—you’ll have specific duties assigned, based on the questionnaire you filled out when you applied to volunteer. Since this is the first time for both of you, the jobs will probably be boring, but hey, they’re a necessary part of keeping the con running. You’re expected to put your hours in every day. Other than that, have fun, try to get some sleep, and don’t forget to shower now and then.”