Good help is so hard to find nowadays.
—Personnel manager's lament
Craig paused at the foot of the stairs and went over his spiel again. He wanted to get this just right, otherwise Panda would think he was crazy.
For two weeks he had visited Judith every night, even missing two Friday gaming sessions in a row. Slowly and patiently he had worked the story out of her; where she had gone and what she had seen and done.
It was unbelievable. It was fantastic. Except that it made sense. When you put it together with other little things over the last year, it had to be true!
The exultation grew until a lump rose in his throat from sheer joy. There were other worlds where magic worked! It wasn't all just game scenarios and science fiction. Those places really did exist and you could get there from here! He shivered again at the wonder of it all.
Only—now he needed help.
Out on the street the traffic rushed by unheeded. Craig stared unseeing, while he went over his dilemma one more time.
Somehow he had to find a way to open that door into the other world. He wanted that more desperately than he had ever wanted anything in his life, even, he realized with a guilty start, more than he had wanted his mother to live. But he had to have a Quest Companion, someone to help him push that door open.
Who? He had spent most of the last three days going over possibilities and the list was disappointingly small. When you got right down to it, Craig realized, he didn't have any close friends except maybe Judith.
The gamers were the only people he actually knew. But he really didn't like them much and most of them thought he was kind of strange. Besides, they couldn't help him. The thought of Joe or Howard as Quest Companions on a real quest was silly and the rest didn't know enough about computers.
There were the others, the ones he met in the shadowy neverland of bulletin boards in his secret identity as Skullslayer, the master hacker. But he knew as little about them as they did about him. It would be embarrassing to confide in someone and then have it turn out to be a pimply faced thirteen-year-old.
There was one whose real identity he did know. A year and a half ago Panda had taken the unusual and dangerous step of contacting him in person. He was such an outtasight hacker that he'd discovered Skullslayer's identity and found that he used to work as a part-time operator in the University computer center. Not only that, he knew that Craig's password and login were still active!
The stuff about the virus, that had been an accident. Mikey had explained it all to him the night he showed up at his apartment and wanted help to cover it up. At first he'd been scared that Mikey was going to turn him over to the FBI, but Mikey just sort of mentioned in passing that he knew a lot about Skullslayer and of course if he was picked up he'd have to make a deal to save his own skin. Just this one favor, Mikey had promised, and we'll be square.
Actually it was a thrill and kind of an honor to be involved in something as big as the Jesse James virus. So in a matter of ten minutes from his living room he had hopelessly muddled the trail that led from the out-of-control computer virus back to Panda.
They'd never met in person again, but they had become good friends over the BBSs. Mikey followed Panda's exploits with admiration and more than a little awe. The guy was not only good, he was, well daring. A dozen times or more Panda had boldly gone where no hacker had gone before, coming up with phone numbers and access codes to some of the most outrageous systems.
A woman with a bag of groceries in either arm came up the walk from the parking lot. She stepped off the sidewalk to pass well around Craig, eyeing him suspiciously as she did so.
She's gonna call the cops on me. Well, he couldn't delay any longer.
The name on the door was "Michael E. Baker," but Craig knew everyone called him Mikey—like in the cereal commercial.
"Panda? It's me. Skullslayer."
There was a muffled "just a minute" and the sound of a lock turning.
The door opened a crack and a blue eye peered out.
"You alone?"
"Yeah. Just me."
The door closed and then opened wide.
Mikey was shirtless and barefoot. He was several years older than Craig, but Craig was already beginning to bulge and Mikey was lean without being skinny. His blonde hair was cut surfer style and wire rimmed glasses hid mild blue eyes. While Craig looked like a computer nerd, nothing suggested Mikey Baker was one of the most accomplished hackers in Silicon Valley.
"Come on in." He turned his back on his guest and strode back into the apartment.
"Nice place," Craig said as he closed the door behind him. The living room was furnished in modern chrome-and-leather furniture. Brown leather that complemented the beige carpet and the darker brown drapes. One entire wall was taken up with an elaborate entertainment center, including a big-screen television that was playing soundlessly. It was fairly neat for a hacker pad. No printouts, no posters, no stacks of books and magazines, just the day's newspaper on the floor by the recliner and a couple of empty beer cans.
Mikey went back into the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. "Want a beer?"
Craig plopped himself down on the leather and chrome sofa. "No thanks." Then he saw what was on television and his jaw dropped.
A luscious brunette was squatting before a man who was hung like a horse. The man's pants were down around his ankles and the woman was completely naked. The camera closed in tight on the man's crotch and the woman's mouth.
"X channel," Mikey said as he came back into the living room with a beer in his hand. "Satellite feed."
"Wow. I thought you couldn't get those here."
Mike smiled. "They're up on the satellites if you know were to look."
Craig watched the action on the screen some more. "Wow."
"How'd you find me?"
Craig tore his eyes away from the television.
"The day you—uh—came over to my place. I got your license number." He shrugged. To any true system breaker the rest was obvious.
Mikey grunted. "Pretty cute. So what brings you here?"
Craig tore his eyes away again.
"You know Judith Conally?"
"No."
"Well, I game with her and . . ."
Mikey grinned. "Is she a good fuck?"
Craig colored. "I never . . . I mean, I don't know her that well."
Mikey's grin got even wider. "So if she's not a good fuck why play games with her?"
Craig stopped dead. That was the thing about Panda. He had a way of derailing your train of thought. And you could never be quite sure when he was kidding.
"Well, she's in the hospital, see? She had a real bad accident. I've been going to see her and sometimes she, like, talks, you know? Like she doesn't know what she's saying.
"Anyway," he hurried on, "she's been talking about this world where magic works and there are dragons and wizards and all that kind of shit."
Mikey popped the top of the beer. "So?"
"So I don t think it's just a story."
"Get real!" Mike took a hefty swig from the can and turned back toward the TV. A skinny blonde with a haystack hairdo and basketball breasts was being caressed from behind by a black man.
"No, listen man. She went someplace last year, her and a bunch of other people. They were recruited at an SCA war and they were gone for maybe six months. Everyone who went has been real secretive. It was right after Judith came back that she started trying to write fantasy.
"And," he concluded triumphantly, "they got paid in gold! I remember Judith bitching about how hard it was to get it changed into money."
Mike turned back to his visitor. "And you think they went to Middle Earth or something?" he said contemptuously.
"They sure as hell didn't go to Redmond, Washington. Microsoft doesn't pay its people in gold."
Mikey turned back to the television. "Bullshit."
"Wait, there's more. They were recruited to, like, program magic. Over there you can hack magic the way you can computers. Programmers are super-wizards in that world."
"And you believe her. This cunt's wacked out of her mind in the hospital and you still believe her."
"I'm telling you it all fits!" Craig said desperately. "It's gotta be true."
"It's still bullshit. And even if it's true, so what? What's that got to do with us?"
"Don't you see, we can go there too!"
Mikey set the beer down. "Why the fuck would we want to do that?"
Craig stopped with his mouth open. In all his planning, in all his imagining this meeting, that question never occurred to him. "Well," he said lamely, "it would be an adventure."
Mikey snorted.
"There's gotta be all kinds of treasure and stuff laying around. They paid all those people in gold, man! And we'd be wizards. Super-powerful wizards over there."
Mikey stared at the television and said nothing. On the screen the blonde was pistoning up and down on the black man. Her breasts were flapping like tethered balloons, but not a strand of her haystack hair was out of place.
"So what do you want me to do?"
"I, uh, need help figuring out how to make the stuff work. I need someone who's even better than I am and Panda's the best!"
Mikey accepted the compliment without comment. For a long time he sat and drank his beer, watching the screen and saying nothing while Craig fidgeted in silence.
Finally he tilted the bottle and drained the last drops. "I want to talk to your friend."
Craig hesitated. "She's kind of hard to talk to."
Mikey smiled a 1,000-watt smile. All of a sudden he looked about fifteen and utterly charming. "I think I can get through to her."
"Hi, Sheila, we're here to see Judith."
The young black nurse stood up from the filing cabinet and turned around. "Hi, Craig. One of you will have to stay here. Rules say only one visitor at a time."
"Oh, come on Sheila, it would only be for a couple of minutes."
"Please," Mikey said, flashing one of his winning smiles. "We'll only be a few minutes and I really think it would do her good to see us both."
He looked so sincere, so innocent and so vulnerable that Sheila hesitated and then nodded. "Well, all right. But don't tire her out. And if the supervisor comes around, you snuck by me. Okay?"
"Did you catch the ass on that nurse?" Mikey asked in an undervoice as they headed for Judith's room.
Judith had a roommate now, an elderly Italian woman who lay spread-eagled beneath the sheets and breathed in great, wracking gasps. Otherwise everything was exactly as it had been on Craig's first visit.
"Hi, Judith," Craig said brightly. "This is Mikey. He's a friend."
There was no response from the bed. Mikey glared at Craig.
"It takes a little bit to get her talking," he whispered. Then he turned back to Judith.
"Mikey's interested in dragons, Judith. Dragons and wizards and magic. You know, the stuff you saw in the other place."
The woman's eyelids fluttered.
"You remember the dragons you saw. The ones you could ride on."
Judith's lips moved. Out of the corner of his eye Craig could see Mikey sitting impassively.
"You remember the flying dragons, don't you, Judith?" Craig went on with a tinge of desperation. "The ones you rode?"
" . . . not ride," Judith mumbled. "Mad at me . . ."
Craig threw a triumphant look at Mikey, but Mikey's expression didn't change.
"Magic, Judith. You did magic there."
" . . . spell compiler . . . full of spaghetti code. Worked asses off to fix it." Her arms twitched restlessly against the soft restraints that tied them to the bed.
"The magic compiler, how did it work?"
"Weird language . . . hacked together." She drifted off into incomprehensibility.
"Have you got a copy of the code?" Mikey put in sharply.
Judith tossed and mumbled. " . . . secret. All secret . . ."
Mikey leaned closer to the bed.
"Have you got notes?" he demanded. "Where are your notes?"
" . . . notebook . . . projects."
"Where's the notebook, Judith?" Mikey persisted. "Where did you put it?"
Judith began to move her whole body against the bed.
"Hey, she's getting upset. I think we'd better leave her alone."
Mikey ignored him. "Tell me!" he hissed, grabbing Judith's hand and squeezing hard. Judith moaned and tried to pull away from his grip.
"Hey! You're hurting her."
Mikey squeezed harder, bearing down on each word. "Where. Are. Your. Notes?"
"Home," Judith gasped. "Desk." She was thrashing from side to side and breathing hard now.
Mikey released her hand. "That's fine, Judith," he said gently. "You did real good."
He turned to Craig. "You heard her. She's got stuff back at her apartment. Can you get in?"
"Well, yeah but . . ."
"Then come on." He stood up and headed for the door without another look at Judith. Craig followed more slowly. At the doorway he looked back. Judith was still moving restlessly, panting with hard, regular gasps.
It was almost like she was sobbing.
Judith's apartment was on the ground floor of a two-story complex in a quiet residential neighborhood. There were maybe fifty apartments grouped around a big central terrace and pool. They had obviously been built in the '60s, before San Jose land values went crazy, but they were well-maintained. Probably not a bargain, Craig thought as he led Mikey through the wrought iron gate into the court, but still the sort of place that was passed down from friend to friend.
The apartment was dark and the drapes were drawn. One of the nearby apartments had a television game show on, but no one was in the courtyard.
"There's a key in the planter by the door, under one of those phony rocks," Craig said. "She showed it to me when I stayed here."
Mikey gave him a knowing smile.
"Not like that! I just crashed on her couch a couple of nights." He didn't add that it had been while his mother had been in the hospital and he couldn't face going back to the house alone. Somehow that wasn't the sort of thing you told Mikey.
He groped around, picking up rocks from the planter.
"Shit. It's not here."
"May I help you?" a voice demanded sharply.
Craig jerked erect and whirled. A middle-aged woman was glaring at them from perhaps twenty feet away. She had a sweater thrown over her shoulders and a cordless telephone in one hand. Her thumb was ostentatiously posed over one of the phone's quick-dial buttons.
Before Craig could do more than flush, Mikey stepped forward smiling—far enough to establish contact but not close enough to be threatening. "Yes ma'am," he said as if he was genuinely glad to see her. "My name is Ralph Simmons. I'm Judith Conally's supervisor. This is Craig Scott, a friend of Judith's. We've just come from the hospital and Judith asked us to bring her a few things."
Some of the venom left the woman's stare. "I thought she was in a coma."
Mikey positively beamed. "Oh, she's come out of it. She'll be in the hospital a while, but she's already talking about going back to work. I don't mind telling you that's a relief to me—I mean aside from being happy she's going to be all right. Judith is the only one who really understands that code. Just between you and me, we've been hurting without her."
The woman shifted her stance and her finger moved away from the call button. "Hadn't she quit to write or something?"
"We'd brought her back on a consulting contract. You know, just for a few hours a week. You don't just let someone like Judith walk out the door."
The woman nodded reluctantly. "She always seemed like a real dedicated person."
"Very dedicated," Mikey agreed. "And a very good worker." Then he frowned every so slightly. "But we seem to have a little trouble here. Judith told us she left a spare key under a rock in the planter, but we can't seem to find it."
"Oh, I took that in after the accident. Didn't seem safe."
"That was very thoughtful of you, ma'am. I wonder if you could see your way clear to let us use it for a few minutes. You see, Judith wanted to look over some of the listings and the doctor thought it would be good for her. Kind of therapy, you know."
"Well . . ."
Mikey turned up the wattage on the smile. "Oh, I know it's a lot to ask, but they never did find Judith's keys after the accident. Naturally if you'd like to call the hospital . . ." again the trace of a frown, "only Judith's not supposed to have phone calls and they'd probably have to track the doctor down."
"Just some papers, you say?"
Yes, ma'am. She won't be needing clothes or anything for a while."
"I don't suppose it would hurt. I'm Mrs. Mapelthorpe, the manager. I can let you in on my pass key."
"Yes, ma'am. If you'd like to come in with us, just to make sure . . ."
Mrs. Mapelthorpe smiled. "Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary." She fished in the pocket of her sweater and brought out a key ring. "Just stop by 102 and check with me before you leave. Oh, and if you could, remind her that her lease is up next month. She needs to decide what she's going to do about the apartment then."
Mike flashed that winning smile, again. "We will. Thank you."
The place smelled of dust and cool, stale air. Someone had obviously tidied up after the accident, but apparently no one had been here since. The place had the feel of being not-quite lived in.
"This is weird," Craig said looking around the apartment. Mikey made a beeline for the desk.
"If we're going to see the old bitch on the way out I don't guess we'd better take anything except the papers—unless she kept that gold here?"
"No, that's in a safety deposit box."
"Bingo!" Mike said, holding up a thick notebook triumphantly. "Right on top of the pile." He looked at the papers stacked beneath it. "And here's some more." He started scooping up the papers and stacking them on top of the notebook. "And some disks too. Find me a box to carry this shit, will you?"
They couldn't wait to get back to Mikey's apartment, so they took a corner booth in a coffee shop and set their box of plunder on the seat while they spread the papers out to study them.
"Boy, I didn't think that would work," Craig said. "When the old lady showed up I was sure we were dead."
Mike looked at him contemptuously. "All you have to do is act sincere and be polite. Then people will believe any bullshit you feed them. Especially the old farts."
Neither of them said anything as they studied the papers and notebook. Their coffee arrived and Craig hardly looked up to add extra sugar and nearly a whole pitcher of creamer. Mikey sipped his black, apparently oblivious to the heat.
"It looks like the whole damn language is here," Craig said finally. "Weird looking stuff, though."
"You expected maybe ANSI C? Of course this shit's weird. Look at what it does."
Craig put his hand down on the stack of papers and leaned across the table to Mikey, eyes glowing. "You know what this is? I mean really? It's the road to your heart's desire. Anything you want."
"So, what do you want?"
Craig hesitated. "I guess a better world. Where people really care about people, you know?"
Mikey looked amused. "No, I don't know. Tell me."
Craig fidgeted. "I dunno. But we went wrong here. I mean with all the pollution and shit. We've just squeezed the beauty out of the way we live. There's no magic in the world."
He toyed with the spoon in his coffee. "Maybe with magic we can build something better. Something that uses magic and technology both in the way they were supposed to be used."
Outside the traffic rushed by.
"What about you? What's your heart's desire?"
Mike grinned lopsidedly. "That's easy. I want to be master of all I survey."