Luck and Death at the Edge of the World, the Official Pirate Edition by Nas Hedron Read Free Book Online

I’m sure you realize. To protect Mr. Prince.”
    As he says it I see in his expression a sense of mission that looks like it goes beyond the mere unfolding of a program.
    “Sorry, Alan. I never meant to imply otherwise.”
    “No apology necessary. It’s your job to be rigorous, as it is mine. Shall we enter the sim?”
    “Sure, let’s take a look.”
    We recline in three out of a row of identical, padded, seats. It appears to be a custom unit, with no brand name visible anywhere. The transition into sim can be abrupt and disorienting, but this is a top of the line unit. Within moments the security system has remotely accessed and taken control of our sensoria and the security office fades to grey along a smooth, predictable trajectory. Despite the unit’s sophistication, though, there’s a brief moment when I can still see and sense my own body, but the artificially induced REM atonia has already kicked in, rendering me perceptibly paralyzed. Still, if I hadn’t been watching for it I’d never have noticed it.
    When the transition’s complete, we appear to be floating high above the main house, hovering motionless in the air. It’s an odd sensation for a human, although I’m sure Alan’s used to it. Cloud City is spread beneath us in all directions. If I focus my attention on an object, the sim program automatically increases its magnification, so that I can look down on a single roof tile’s pebbled surface, or an ant meandering amongst blades of grass, all rendered with perfect resolution and fidelity. Near James Jerome’s residence I see a cat, crouched, edging forward toward some prey that’s hidden from view, probably an insect or one of those imaginary things cats see and that we don’t. It moves with a deliciously predatory stealth. The moment I release my attention, however, the magnification returns to normal and I once against see the entire vista of the estate.
    It’s not only my vision that’s enhanced, though. I can, by concentrating, hear the nearly silent breathing of the hunting cat, or smell the scent of the flowers far away by one of the lakes. To me this perspective is so foreign that it’s hard to imagine that this could be anyone’s natural habitat, but it’s Alan’s. It makes me wonder how different our thought processes are, but a moment later he draws me away from my thoughts, gesturing toward the seawall in the west.
    “The cameras first pick up the assailant there. Just coming over the seawall. Once he drops down on this side, we lose him. It’s as though he disappeared.”
    “All of this without any tremors on the sensors?” Carmen asks.
    “Well, there’s nothing you would normally see, but if I augment our perception and integrate the vestigial indicia of the burned code you’ll get something.”
    Nothing changes in my view of Cloud City, but there is suddenly a tingling in my gut. It’s intermittent and uncertain, like the feeling you get when you’re not sure if you’re stomach’s upset or not. That’s not how it should feel.
    “The signal degradation I’m feeling, that’s the burn?”
    “Yes,” Alan says.
    “Can you visualize the intruder?”
    “I can simulate the intruder using his movements as indicated by the gaps caused by the burned data.”
    “Do it please.”
    With that, a small masked figure dressed in black appears over the top of the west wall, lowers itself, hangs for a moment, and then drops. In a moment it is moving across the grass toward the house.
    With a sense that has no human counterpart, I can feel the trail of the person’s movement in infinitesimal changes in temperature, air pressure, and electrical current, but the trail is spotty, like a wobbly distortion trailing behind the figure and materializing slightly ahead of it. Sometimes it winks out altogether, only to reappear a little ways further along.
    “That’s the best I can do unfortunately,” Alan says. “I’ve reconstructed all the data I can from the randomized