FORTY-SIX

Not quite together in step, the heels of the two men’s shoes snapped a hard syncopated beat against the tile floor at Virtu-Tech’s nearly silent headquarters. Tate’s gaze held straight and steady, though his posture was uncharacteristically rigid. He smirked in a way that made Patrick worry for his brother’s safety.

Although Celia didn’t visit the Chicago offices very often, she maintained a private space on the building’s top story and presumably that’s where they were headed. Here, on the first floor, the place was hushed, soft mechanical sounds lost in the high-ceilinged space that—during the day—housed more than three hundred employees.

There were precious few doors in Virtu-Tech office buildings on this level—everyone remained closely monitored with low-ranking worker bees stationed at the building’s center, surrounded by three-hundred-and-sixty degrees of plasma screens and a perimeter walkway for supervisors to oversee the group.

No wonder so many people turned to VR these days. Being inside one’s own mind alone—escaping reality to experience one’s own fantasies beyond the view of anyone else—held an allure few could resist.

The walkway was vacant now, all the screens dark. During the day, they provided an endless, cycling presentation of cheerful people spouting the benefits of VR. Even at work, one couldn’t escape the constant stream of commercial advertising reminding employees of delightful virtual adventures, the ultimate reward for toiling at their mundane jobs all day.

Patrick remained silent as the two men made their way across the main floor, his thoughts consumed by his brother’s welfare. Werner hadn’t given any indication of abandoning Virtu-Tech’s initiative. Rather, he’d argued its importance. Which means he wouldn’t have walked away. Not of his own accord, at least. Something was wrong. The sooner Patrick got out of this meeting, the better.

A muted buzz echoed as the two men entered a restricted area. Tate slowed.

Ahead of them, an elevator descended to the first floor. Its doors opened to reveal Celia’s assistant Nick, who didn’t smile when he nodded hello.

The men stepped in, and Patrick started to reach for the fifth floor’s button, but Nick said, “Three.”

“Three?” That made no sense. The third floor held only VR chambers running experimental programs. He hesitated.

Tate reached past him and punched the number.

“I thought we were meeting Celia,” Patrick said.

“You are.” Nick crossed his hands at his waist. “On three.”

Patrick pondered that for the elevator’s short trip. What was going on? Simon had gone silent for the past few days—no response through their regular channels. While that behavior wasn’t unusual, and it typically meant that he had secreted himself in his lab, his recent absence coupled with Werner’s disappearance did not bode well.