San Pablo California

For nearly three weeks, Adriana danced around the idea of seeing Jack Selig again. She sought advice from her sisters, linked and unlinked, and a few bio females she called friends. She researched the man's work, even going back to his college days and sampling his papers. She researched his background, his finances, and his relationships as they appeared in the public eye.

[You've got it bad, little sister. After fifteen minutes of conversation, he's got your files unzipped.]

She was sitting at her bedroom terminal, grading homework. (I'm just looking him over, is all. He's interesting. And I've got a feeling I'm going to be seeing him on the shuttle in a week anyway. Don't you?) She finished a paper while she waited for her signal to reach Natalia, three light-seconds away.

[That would be a safe bet. Also a safe move. Why not let it ride?]

(Because my interest isn't just personal, and neither is his. He's a shaper of public opinion.)

[Have you seen these shows of his? Either of them?]

(Been putting that off, sort of.) She finished her work and called up the Defenders site. As the introduction rolled on, Ina checked in.

{Have you seen any of them, Nattie?}

The elder cyber produced a facsimile snort. [This project keeps me busy. Even cybers only have so much time. I've no desire to waste it on such stuff.]

{Well, then, click off while the two of us rot our minds. I suppose the episodes only play at bio speed?}

(When did you ever come across an entertainment vid that played at accelerated speed? We're lucky so much of the tech stuff has the option.)

Grumbling, Natalia stayed linked and watched the latest episode with them. When Adriana selected the previous episode from the archive, she declared, [I don't know why you'd want to watch another one. I bet they're all the same.]

(Meaning?)

[Ever hear the expression, 'a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?' These people seem to know just enough about cybers to give those caricatures credibility.]

(I agree. But the premise is interesting if unoriginal, and the storyline shows some talented writing, don't you think?)

{Who'd watch a show about real cybers? We're drones. Personally, I think Diana's life is a lot more interesting than yours, Nattie. Do you know if there's a real Diana?}

[Killed in the twenties. The name wasn't reissued.]

Several milliseconds of uncomfortable silence followed. Natalia would have known her, of course. There hadn't been more than a hundred cybers during the War.

{What was she like?}

(Ina!)

Time stretched while the two earthbound sisters waited for the reply. Adriana had time to regret Ina's question a hundred times.

[She was a killer, like most of us back then. She got nailed by an air strike on her way to the extraction point. Happened too often, once the meats knew about us.]

It was considered impolite to bring up the War with a cyber old enough to recall it firsthand, but Natalia had opened the conversation. Adriana listened as Ina indulged her curiosity. {Did she ever kill anybody?}

[I said she was on her way back from a mission, didn't I? I don't think they ever got any of us first.]

{Did you… ever, Nattie?}

[Yes. Forty-one missions before the Gens brokered a truce and began to draft the Accords. At least ninety-seven meats: forty-one targets, and a bunch of others that tried to stop me.]

Adriana was shocked at her sister's second use of the archaic term. (Sister, I've never heard you call bios 'meats' before.)

The next pause was just a bit longer than distance required.

[When they were targets, or they were trying to kill us, they were meats. I can't think of them any other way.] Her tone lightened. [Ancient history, kids. Things are different now, for good I think. I'm no bio-hating android. I'm the only one of us who's ever had a man of her own, you may recall. A most satisfactory experience.]

{Doesn't seem to have mellowed you any.}

[Men seldom do, whether you're bio or cyber.] She broke com.

As the next episode started, Ina said, {Someday I'm going to work up the nerve to ask her what happened to him.}

Saturday June 29 2069

San Francisco

Magnus Productions was a three-story office building in Sausalito, a cube of bluish glass overlooking the Bay and Angel Island. The building directory and door security was a middling-smart AI, probably installed in the basement with the other utilities. After it scanned Jack's card through a slot alongside the door, an overhead speaker said in a smooth feminine voice, "Mr. Selig is scheduled in the artists' conference room until fourteen-thirty. Would you like to come back later, or come in and wait?"

"Come in and wait."

The entry door opened. "I'll page Mr. Selig, but his com is usually off during conferences. You can expect to wait at least twenty minutes. Would you like directions to his office?"

"Yes. Thank you." Normally, cybers disliked anthropomorphizing machines, but this one seemed so eager to please, she couldn't help herself. She noted that the elevator shafts had been gutted and fitted with droplifts: she concluded that Magnus must be a very successful studio to afford such an extravagance in a three-story building. She took the lift to the top floor, the near half of which was mostly open space bustling with people. One of them, a tall redheaded man, glanced her way as she rose into view through the open doorway and drifted forward until her feet touched the floor; then he hurried over, smiling. "We weren't expecting you so soon, but I'm glad you came." He looked her up and down, appraising. "My God. You're perfect."

She raised an eyebrow; he saw it and grinned. "Turn around. Let's see the whole package." Mystified, she obeyed, pivoting a full circle. "Oh, I am gonna have to send Casting something nice. We're hardly gonna have to change a thing. You look just like one of them. That's not a wig, is it?"

"No, it's mine. Do you mind telling me what this is about?"

He shook his head. "They didn't even tell you? That's taking secrecy a bit far." He put a hand on the small of her back and urged her down a hall. "Hey, Dewey! Take a look at this!"

There had been a 'Dewey Wilson' on Jack's card, listed as the 'Stage Master.' What the job entailed, she had no idea.

A man popped his head out of a doorway ahead of them. "Holy cow. Drusilla?"

"The hair and eyes are about it, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah. I think I'll even keep the waves. This is going to make motion capture a treat. And you know, maybe Drusilla'd look good with gray eyes."

"Are you doing dialogue, too?" The three of them began walking down the hall, towards a door marked 'MOTION LAB'. "I've got some script for a voice check."

She stopped, bringing them to a halt. "Gentlemen, I don't know what you're talking about. What are we doing here?"

The redhead's face clouded. "We're just completing the audition. For looks, you're a perfect elf, but we've got to see how you move, and hear you talk."

"I didn't come here for an audition. I met Mr. Selig on a shuttle, and he invited me for a tour."

The redhead traded glances with Dewey. "Jack bumped into you somewhere, and gave you his card? What a discovery."

Dewey said, "I think Jack took one look at you and decided you'd be perfect to play a new character in our series."

"I thought that's what you were getting at. But I'm sure you're mistaken."

"Jack won't be out of the writers' conference for a while yet," the redhead said. "Kill a little time. Audition for us. Please."

She thought about it, and shrugged. "I think you're going to be disappointed, but all right." She let herself be led into the motion lab, which turned out to be a large, mostly bare room with grids on the walls and floor.

"Okay," said Dewey. Long shot, I know, but have you ever had martial arts training of any kind?"

"Sort of. I've never used it."

"Too good to be true. Okay. Can you stand over there, and act like you're fighting two people at once?"

"Well…" She looked at the bare space. "It would be a lot more realistic if I had two people to interact with. Or even some props."

Dewey shook his head. "Magnus is a CGI studio. We don't use props, usually, or shoot on location. This is the stage for every episode of The Defenders, whether the setting's Calcutta or the surface of the Moon. Lots of times, the actors don't even perform at the same time. We add everything in." he reached into his pocket and produced a pocketknife and another business card. He set them on the floor on opposite sides of her at a range of two meters. "Just pretend that's where they are. Start any time."

She unzipped her combat-skills file and slipped into accelerated awareness, what the old-timers like Natalia called combat mode. On the marked spots, she imagined two large men, closing on her with upraised clubs. She chose one at random, bounced over to him for a kick to the kneecap. She couldn't rebound off the imaginary knee the way she would a real one, but she swung her upraised leg as she sprang away on the other foot, spun, and planted an elbow into the imaginary midsection of the other assailant, followed by a vertical punch to the throat as he bent over. Then she reversed to the first opponent, who would be hitting the ground about now, and delivered a blow with the edge of her hand to the back of the imaginary neck. Elapsed time, twenty-two hundred milliseconds. She compressed the file and dropped back into normal time.

Dewey and the redhead were staring round-eyed. "I'm gonna have to play it back in slo-mo just to see what you did… but it looked cool as hell." He turned to the other man. "Slim, I don't care if she blows the dialogue test. We've got to sign her."

The redhead, Slim, was looking at her strangely. He lifted a sheaf of papers from a nearby table and handed them to her, seeming careful not to touch her as he passed them over. "Just… just read the marked lines. Start anywhere."

"'Scanning for threats, Special Agent,'" she read. "'None found. Only humans.'"

"No, no. Say it like a cyber," Dewey said. Slim watched her silently.

"I am saying it like a cyber."

"I don't mean like one that passes for human. Talk like a machine." He demonstrated in a buzzing monotone. "'My infrared sensors indicate the approach of six humans. Prepare to engage.'"

"Dewey, the AI at the door sounds more human than that, and it's no brighter than a squirrel."

"Look," he said patiently, "Pretend you're a new one that hasn't been around people much. They don't roll off the assembly line sounding normal, right?"

"No, but I was better socialized than that when I was a day old."

"Look, miss…" The smile froze on his face as her words sank in. He looked into her eyes, and glanced at the silent Slim, who returned the look. "Oh, shit."

"I'm guessing the girl from Casting is just stepping out of the lift." She looked at Slim. "If you hurry, you might catch her before she goes back down."

"Excuse me." Slim left the lab, banging the door on the way out in his haste.

She turned to Dewey, who was showing two spots of color on his neck. "Problem?"

"He's probably remembering he called you an elf."

"That's a slang term for cybers?"

"Sorry. I suppose it sounds pretty bad."

"Not if you've read Tolkien."

Jack entered the lab, all smiles. "I see you've found a tour guide."

She smiled in return. "They wanted to hire me to play Drusilla, but I can't recite my lines like a proper vid show cyber, I'm afraid."

His smile widened to a grin. "Dewey, meet Adriana."

She stuck out a hand. "I'm guessing you're Dewey Wilson. Now I know what a 'Stage Master' is. But who's Slim?"

"Slim Rawski. He's the assistant producer. A better description would be 'producer's assistant,' but they gave him the title in lieu of a raise." He gripped her hand carefully.

"I know it looks dainty, but it won't break."

"What about mine?"

She looked up into his face. "Dewey, I'm a schoolteacher. I've never hurt anyone in my life."

He glanced back at the stage. "You learned that from another cyber? A download?"

She nodded. "An old one. But it's one we all get in school."

"So you can all…"

"So we can all be not victims, if it comes to that. If the situation demands it. I'd use it just as quickly to help a bio as myself, Dewey. It's just dance lessons, sort of." She turned her smile on him; guys seemed to like dimples. "We're not an army, just a bunch of girls who know how to take care of ourselves." Without letting go of Dewey's hand, she turned to Jack. "I guess I should have let you know I was coming, but the invitation sounded casual."

"It was supposed to be." The look he gave Dewey made her feel sorry for the man. "What did you have her do?"

"Fight scene, the one where Drusilla storms the security center and takes down the guards."

"Are you going to flesh it out?"

Dewey glanced at her. "She doesn't want the part. Maybe we could use her as a body double?"

"Doubt it. Flesh it out anyway. Might be a training aid for whoever gets the part. Show her how a real cyber would look doing it." He turned to her. "Do you still want a tour? I'm afraid there's not much to look at. Just offices and meeting rooms and such. The most interesting part of this operation is its people."

She smiled at Dewey. "I can believe that. I'm glad I met you, Dewey." She let go of his hand. "I wasn't trying to embarrass anyone, you know. But when Slim called your name, I recognized it from Jack's card, and I wanted to meet you."

He smiled in relief. "Huh. Well, it was good meeting you too."

As he led her away, Jack said, "That could have been embarrassing. Instead, you made his day. Are you all so gracious?"

She smiled and shrugged. "It depends on how you're raised. The Rands are wonderful people."

"So you really are all raised by humans."

"Our first year, anyway." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with all the people I know being categorized as 'human' or 'nonhuman'."

"Bios, then."

"Yes. From the time we come online with our basic downloads, our 'school'. We barely have time for a full systems check before we're on our way to a bio household. It's important to socialize a kid as early as possible. The housekeeping skills that come with the basic downloads make us useful members of the families right away. We learn from bios at the closest range possible, starting with their needs and how to care for them."

"Sounds humiliating. Doesn't a provision like that in the Accords make you chafe?"

"Jack, we fought to get that put into the Accords, to make sure the Program got legal protection and wouldn't be interfered with. We need close contact with people as early as possible, like any kids. We imprint on the people around us, and pick up personality traits from our hosts. A year of it is enough to turn a humanoid machine into a person."

"Why not just download it?"

She shook her head. "Do you play chess?"

He said cautiously, "I know the moves."

"Chess is a simple game to learn, but you can spend a lifetime trying to master it. Learning to be a real person in human society is like that, whether you're bio or cyber. You can't get it from a download. You have to get it from other people. Oh, we wake up knowing the basics: how to dress, how not to draw attention to ourselves in a crowd, conversational and behavioral rules. Sixty, maybe even ninety percent of what we need to know. But there are ten thousand faux pas in that ten percent. And no download can teach you to like people, the way living with them does."

They reached the droplift, and entered the drop, drifting downward. "Does it really?"

"Cybers are sociable creatures. Surround us with friendly people to interact with, and we're happy as puppies."

"Hm. What are my chances of getting a pretty girl to move in and cook and clean?"

They got off at the first floor. "I'm sure there are agencies."

"A cyber, I mean." They headed down a hall towards the rear of the building.

She smiled. "Are you married?"

"No." His eyelids lowered. "No girlfriend, either."

"Your chances are zero. We only send our kids to families, the bigger the better." She added carefully, "You could apply for a Companion. Your chances would be fairly good, I think. But I can't guarantee she'd cook and clean." She felt him stop. "What?"

"Companions are real? You do that?" His body language and voice patterns were familiar and readable enough by now that she caught the meaning behind his words.

She put her hands on her hips. "This is another sex thing, isn't it? What, exactly, do you think Companions are?" The color of his cheeks told her everything. "Creator's sake, Jack. Concubines?" She sighed heavily. "Sharing someone's life doesn't require sharing his bed. Women get Companions too. You do know we're all hetero, at least? Please don't tell me you've scripted the Companion Program."

"No. it's been tossed around, but this is a family show. Rather, this version is. There's an 'adults-only' version, but I don't write for it, just supervise."

"Adults-only? I suppose it's wildly popular."

"It has its following." He looked down at her. "Have you ever been a Companion?"

"No. Never even been asked. Apparently no one's applied who matches my profile."

His gaze was suggestive. "How would I apply?"

"The Program has a website. Start there. Be warned, the application is a survey that'll take hours to fill out. Then, if you make the first cut, you'll have to interview. With a panel of cybers."

"Dear God."

"It's not what you think. I've had people tell me it was enjoyable, lots better than the survey. More like a party than an interrogation. You make the second cut, your app stays on file for five years. If the Board finds you a match who's willing in that time, you get introduced to a cyber who's skilled at your work, enjoys your hobbies, and knows everything about you that's in the public domain. You agree to work together and socialize for a year. Anything else that happens is between the two of you." She leveled a look at him. "It's a post grad course for cybers who want to learn to work closely with bios, and a chance for bios to learn about cybers. It is kind of a matchmaker service, because they often pair off. But it's not Dial-a-Whore."

"Okay. I understand. There is no sexual deviance or casual promiscuity among cybers. You're all clean-minded, old-fashioned girls who believe in true love, finding the right guy and settling down forever."

"Exactly. We're very conservative, socially. We find something that works for us, we stick with it."

"That ruins a lot of fantasies."

She smiled. "It's like Ina says. No one would want to make a vid of our real lives." She looked down the row of doors. "If your office is down here, why was I sent to the third?"

"Chelsea sent you upstairs?"

"No, your doorguard AI."

"That's Chelsea."

"You named it?" And gave it a name that ends in "a", besides.

"What's wrong?" The corner of his mouth quirked.

"We don't like… anthropomorphizing machines you can't have a conversation with."

"You can have a conversation with Chelsea. You just have to pick your subject carefully."Amused, he added, "This is a side of you I never expected. I talk to the door AI every day. What harm is there in calling it by name and being polite?"

She looked up at him. "Is that what you're doing with me?"

His smile disappeared. "Ah. I see now. Adriana, people give their dogs names and talk to them. They don't mistake them for people."

"Is that supposed to make my point or refute it? It certainly doesn't answer my question."

"I would have thought you could read me well enough to know."

"You're being evasive. That's what I read."

"I can't give you an answer that'll convince you." He looked troubled. "You're just going to have to search your heart."

She looked up at him for a moment, then relaxed. "Sorry. It's just… it sets your teeth on edge to know that a person who crosses streets to avoid you, because you're an imitation of life, doesn't have a problem telling his coffee pot how his day is going."

He smiled. "Heh. I do talk to my house AI. But I can't tell her how pretty her eyes are."

She gave him a small smile. "Back to the original question: why are we on the first floor?"

"My office is on the third floor. But the meeting's not over. We took a break, and I checked my messages." He started down the hall again. "Come on. The real work is over. We're just tossing ideas around and shooting the breeze. You won't be the only non-writer in the room."

He opened the door at the end of the hall, to a babble of voices engaged in several conversations. He entered first, held it open while she stepped through, and closed it behind her. No one immediately noticed his return, or his companion. Then someone said, "Well. Jack. Who's your friend?"

Most of the people standing or sitting around the room's two tables turned to look. Their expressions were polite and mildly interested. They don't recognize me either. A quarter of the characters in their show are cybers, and they don't know one when they see one.

Two people were regarding her with more than casual interest; she recognized both as performers in the series. One, surrounded by men, was Sybil Grey, the woman who played the female lead, Diana. She bore a strong resemblance to Adriana's kind, except that she was five centimeters taller and a bit too athletic; her shoulders and arms showed more muscle than the cyber form. Also, Adriana noted, no cyber ever filled a brassiere the way Miss Grey did. The woman glanced from Jack to Adriana with sharp speculation that made Adriana feel like a poacher.

The other observer, seated at a table across the room with several people, was Leonard Atchison, the actor who played the archvillain Ming. He was middle-aged, tall, and stocky, with dark eyes, a strong chin and jaw, and a full mouth framed in a black goatee that matched his hair. His face showed keen interest, and she was sure that she'd been recognized. But the man smiled as he took her in.

"People, this is Adriana. She just auditioned for Drusilla."

"I'll bet Dewey's turning handsprings." It was the man who'd first spoken.

"Adriana, this is George Orwell, no joke. He's the head writer for the adults-only version."

"Just a title," the man said, trying not to appear as if he was looking her over. "Jack's the final authority on both versions. The family version is the lead script. Our staff has half the writers they do."

She offered her hand. "I've only seen the last two episodes of the public show. I take it the adults-only version isn't much different?"

"Not really. We only make changes that add interest without threatening continuity."

"Such as?"

"Well, we like to think we offer the audience deeper glimpses into the characters' personal lives." He cleared his throat. "For example. James is a notorious rake. Often a script has him getting a call in the middle of the night. In the family version, he's always alone in the bed. In ours, he has a sleeping companion." He lifted an eyebrow. "Or maybe one who's not sleeping."

"I see."

"And Diana. It's clear that she's attracted to James, but she doesn't permit herself to express it, or let him know how she feels. About every third episode, she rebuffs a pass of some sort from him. In the adults-only version, she sometimes indulges in one-night stands... who always resemble James."

[The words 'gratuitous sex' and 'prurient interest' come to mind?]

{We didn't watch anything like that, sister. How do you suppose they portray a cyber making love?}

She snorted. George said, "What's funny?"

"Not funny. Disturbing. So you portray cybers actually making love?"

Puzzled by her attitude shift, he said, "We don't show them in the act. That would be pure guesswork. Everybody knows sex with a cyber is different, but nobody agrees how, and their human partners don't talk, not for any amount of money. But, afterwards, we show them getting dressed or some such." His smile wasn't quite a leer. "Usually with their partners totally sated."

"Or begging for more." A woman's voice she recognized from vid. Sybil Grey stepped close. "How about it, Adriana? Is that the way it is?"

The group fell silent as they suddenly realized there was a real cyber in the room, and their female lead was baiting her. Adriana kept her voice neutral. "Our sexual relations aren't a subject we discuss freely, Miss Grey."

The woman glanced at Jack. "I can understand you being afraid of spilling trade secrets. But how do you strike the men dumb? I've never heard of a man being able to resist telling all his friends about a good piece. Do you threaten to cut them off?"

"No." She looked at George. "Real cybers don't do one-night stands. We look for soul mates. That makes lovemaking a religious experience, and deeply personal."

"'Religious.' Really." Sybil cocked her head. "So, when you take a man to bed, you're performing an act of worship?" She glanced at George. "Which do you worship, sex or the man?"

"As I said, it's personal. Excuse me." She turned away.

"Well, sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you." Sybil addressed the onlookers around her. "Who knew you could upset one of them, with just a little candid talk?"

She cast an eye across the room. Leonard Atchison was looking at her. Too softly for the person sitting next to him to hear, he whispered, "Sorry. She's kind of a bitch. Jack dumped her a year ago."

She smiled at him, just as Jack's hand came down softly on her shoulder. "Sorry about that. Syb's a hell of an actor, but she's not at her best in social situations. You want to leave?"

"No. I'd like to meet some more of these people who make your operation interesting. The fellow with the goatee, the one who plays the villain. What's his story?"

"Leonard? Funny you should single him out. He actually knows cybers, I've heard. Only person on the crew who's ever met one until now. He helps keep the scripts from getting too out of hand."

"In that case, I should thank him on behalf of the Sisterhood. The plot ideas are just whirling in George's head right now, aren't they?"

Leonard rose as they approached, and offered his hand. She placed her hand in his, and was pleasantly surprised. He linked hands with her in the cyber way: palm flat, fingertips on the heel of her hand, thumb on the back, pressing their palms together. No pumping; this was no ritual test of strength like the bio gesture, but an offer of friendship, sharing, intimacy. If we were both cybers, we'd be ready for download. Data flowed to her from him nonetheless: all his biometrics were magnified by the physical contact. She looked up into his eyes and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi." He stared back, deep into her eyes. "I always think, if I look hard enough, I'll see printed circuits or something in there."

"Hm. Domestic?"

He nodded slightly. "Miranda?" Do you know her? Are you carrying any downloads that include me?

She shook her head slightly without breaking eye contact. No. I'm meeting you for the first time. "How old?"

"Seventeen."

"She turn you down easy?"

"Heh. Yeah." His eyes were dark brown; she watched his pupils dilate as he recalled the cyber who'd shared his house for a year when he was a teenage boy. "She explained about the injunction. I told her I'd wait until her contract was up. But by then, it would have been like dating my sister. We keep in touch." He continued to clasp her hand. "Wish I'd seen your audition. Do you really want the part?"

"No. Dewey and Red just wouldn't take no for an answer, until I let them know I wasn't acting."

"Will you look at him?" Sybil's voice from halfway across the room, pitched low. "He can't even let go of her. It's like he's hypnotized."

"Know what I think?" George's voice was low, too, but tight with excitement. "We're looking at cyber foreplay."

"Oh, my." The woman's voice was lilting and edgy at the same time. "Jack may have some competition."

"Are your ears burning?" Leonard's question surprised her, and made her even more aware of the touch of his hand.

You got that? Bios who could detect the tiny impulses of cyber input through physical contact were rare; ones who could interpret any of them rarer still; Leonard's skill seemed extraordinary. His hand released hers and slowly withdrew.

"I'm getting used to it." She smiled, still maintaining eye contact. "The injunction didn't stop you from holding hands."

Jack cleared his throat quietly. "Uh, do you guys know each other?"

She turned to her host with a different smile. "We do now. Who else do we have here?"

A tall, baldheaded man reached up a hand without rising. "Bruce Miller. If you haven't seen me, I'm The Henchman."

"No name? Just 'The Henchman'?"

He nodded. "A gimmick, but kind of cool. Ming never calls me by name. Last season, I was the main character for three episodes. The audience knows me better than they do Ming. But they don't know my name." He smiled at Jack. "My contract's not up for two months after Leonard's, and they're talking about finding some way of keeping me on after they kill him off."

She'd already sampled him well enough to know how he felt about that. "What would you rather do?"

"After two years on The Defenders, I can go anywhere. I'm looking at three other vid offers. One of them is a lead role. I'm thinking hard about that one."

She turned to Leonard. "You're leaving the show?"

He nodded. "Two more episodes. No hard feelings, Jack. I'm just ready to move on."

"Understood. We'll just have to invent somebody else for James to beat up on."

"Here's an idea." At the end of the table, the man who played James Garand spoke up, smiling. "How about a female villain who's not a cyber?" He stood and offered a hand. "I'm-"

"Dominic Upchurch," she said, taking it. His had been the first name on Jack's card. His face bore microscopic surgical marks. She guessed from his skin and heartbeat that he was a short-lifer, and at least twenty years older than he appeared. "If your adversary was female, would you still beat her up?"

"In the adults-only version, likely. Or perhaps I'd seduce her instead. In the family version, I'd just shoot her." He leaned back. "Am I the only one who looks at that, and sees something disturbing about our culture?"

"It won't work," said a young woman at the end of the table. "Any bio female who goes head to head with James often enough will fall for him, and there goes our story line. Only cybers have the willpower to resist him."

She was pretty enough, Adriana decided, but nowhere near the vid show ideal; not an actor, then. She extended a hand. "I wondered if there was a writer at this table."

"Adriana, meet Bridget Shane."

She raised an eyebrow. "Any relation-"

"Cousin. My grandparents' house gets interesting around the holidays." They shared a smile. "What do you do for a living? Shuttle pilot? Firefighter? Research scientist?"

"Schoolteacher."

Bridget let out a soft grunt. "Figures. A schoolteacher and a cyber. Two of the top ten male fantasy girls in one package." She looked at Adriana appraisingly. "I bet you're a nine on any guy's rating system."

"What would I need to do to get a perfect score?" Implants, I suppose.

Bridget grinned. "Become a cop. Every man who watches The Defenders wants a piece of Diana."

Jack continued to guide her around the room, introducing her to everyone they saw. The staff at Magnus included the usual varieties of bios in approximately the usual proportions, a wonderful sample of humanity. Even Sybil was interesting, in her way; she might be abrasive off-screen, but her dedication to her craft was obvious whenever she spoke on the subject.

The only person she found disturbing was a massively built, crew-cut male named Gregory Montoya. He was a fight scenes and martial arts consultant for the show, and the way he looked at her made her want to drop into accelerated mode. Her hand disappeared into his, and he squeezed it hard. She refrained from returning the pressure; he seemed to be trying to feel the structure under her skin, rather than impress her with a show of strength. "What did you do in the audition?"

"A fight scene, actually. Defending myself from two attackers."

His face didn't change, but she sensed a slight metabolic rise. "Really. Did they record it?"

She nodded. "Jack wants Dewey to 'flesh it out,' whatever that means."

"It means adding production values to the live action until it looks like part of the show. When he's done, you'll hardly recognize yourself." He looked around. "It also means I should look at it. Excuse me." He walked straight through the crowd to the door and left.

She turned to Jack. "Did I say something?"

Her host smiled. "No. Greg just wants to make sure Dewey gets it right. Without him, people on the show would probably get clubbed with steel pipes and walk away, and every gunshot would be a flesh wound. He keeps the frequency of the violence down by keeping the consequences realistic."

[Careful with that one, little sister. I look at him through your eyes and my threat-discrimination software kicks on.]

(Are you saying he's a 'meat'?)

[I'm saying I wouldn't have wanted to meet someone like him on my way to service a target forty years ago.]

The meeting broke up twenty minutes later. Jack led her towards the front door. "Normally, this is where I'd ask you to dinner."

"Well, let's be normal, by all means."

His eyebrows rose. "What would you do at a dinner table?"

"Sip water. Watch you eat. Do the talking while your mouth is full. Watch the crowd. It's quite enjoyable, so long as you're not easily embarrassed."

"By eating in front of you?"

"By sharing a table in a restaurant with a cyber. We'll draw attention."

"I think I can handle that. Adriana, would you like to have dinner with me?"

She smiled up at him. "Only if I pick the place."

"Deal. Where? And what about reservations?"

"The Food Processor, in Berkeley. You make them. Any night but Thursday. I've got parent-teacher conferences."

"And Friday you board the shuttle for Hong Kong. What kind of place is The Food Processor? I never heard of it."

"It's new." She smiled. "I'm sure it's going to be a sensation, once the culinary cognoscenti discover it. And the merely curious."

He frowned. "Adriana, is this place-"

"Owned and run by cybers. Yes."

He shook his head. "A restaurant."

She smiled. "Jack, haven't you been paying attention? We all know how to cook." Her eyelids drooped. "I think it's where our reputation for pleasing men begins."

They approached the doorway. The AI said, "Good day, Adriana. Good day, Jack."

"See you tomorrow, Chelsea," Jack said, then glanced sharply at Adrianna, who was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

She folded her arms. "Chelsea. Why do you call Mr. Selig 'Jack'?"

"It's an instruction from my social behavior subroutine. All individuals who enter the building more than three times are addressed by given name unless I'm instructed differently."

"How often has Jack entered the building?"

"Two thousand, one hundred and fourteen times."

"When was the first time?"

"Monday, September twelfth, twenty-sixty."

"Was he nervous, his first day on the job?"

"I don't understand."

"How did he act, the first time he came here?"

"I don't know, Adriana. Unless instructed otherwise, I only keep audiovisual recordings for seventy-two hours."

"So you don't remember the first thing he said to you?"

"I remember the first thing he said to me in the last seventy-two hours. Would that be helpful?"

She studied her host, who was looking rather uncomfortable. "Chelsea, do you think Jack's cute?"

"I don't understand."

"Cute. Handsome. Attractive."

"I don't understand."

"You've known him for nine years. Would you call him a friend?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I haven't received any instructions to call him a friend."

"Do you like him?"

"I don't understand."

She pinned Jack with a glance. "A dog would know in thirty seconds if it liked you, and be able to tell you so." She passed through the doors.

"Wait!" Jack called after her. "I don't have your code!"

"I have yours. I'll call you tomorrow."

Shortly after the two parted, Chelsea's voice came from the speaker above the empty doorway. "Euclid two zero five nine." Then: "Bitch."