Zoe sat squashed into the back seat of a taxi with José and Laura, weaving in and out of the traffic heading southward from London. She had her faithful old rock-chick uniform on: black leather jacket and black skinny jeans. Pulling off a credible metal look had always been a challenge for her—she needed more tattoos, piercings, and, frankly, muscle tone for that. She’d skipped away from all that image angst when she’d given up on her relationship with Tyler, and good riddance to it, too. Still, it was nice to dip her toes back into the gritty scene now and again. It made her feel alive.
Sitting up front in the passenger seat was a guy named Evan Myers, who looked vaguely like Kurt Cobain, a cognitive scientist from the virtual reality subgroup. At first, she was surprised to hear he was joining. She hadn’t known he was a Geiger fan, and with his warm-colored plaid shirt and fleece he certainly hadn’t made any efforts to blend in, but she was grateful for the extra head count. Between the four of them, they could just about afford the 500-quid fare for being chauffeured to Brighton and back.
But on further reflection, Zoe thought Evan might simply be Laura’s clumsy attempt at matchmaking, rounding things up to an even number. But Evan wasn’t Zoe’s type. Too normal. Nothing like the insecure musicians and artists she favored. What was Laura thinking?
Zoe smiled over at Laura and José. At least they seemed to be hitting it off. It was gratifying to see a match playing out in real life as opposed to a chain of awkward instant messages leading to nothing. José with his Orlando Bloom looks was the gentleman in disguise who didn’t realize how cute he was. Laura was the Bengal tiger, and this seemed to gel well with José’s laid-back approach. They’d sat avoiding each other for three years. True love, definitely.
A pang of loneliness assailed Zoe, and she fingered her phone case. Darcy’s welcome face lit up the screen. She reached inside her jacket for earbuds. This movement caught Laura’s attention, who disengaged from her intimate position with José and whispered into her ear, “It’s okay. They know about Darcy.”
“How?” How many people had Laura told?
Laura shrugged. “He found out.” She indicated her lover with a jerk of her head. “And Evan already knew. Lighten up. We’re all Zycorp.”
“So you all know about Darcy,” Zoe said. The driver was the only one who didn’t nod.
Evan twisted his head around from the front seat. “Come on, I’m in research. It’s my business to know. I heard you’re doing scenario-based testing with Darcy.”
How the hell did he know that? “Laura, did you—?”
“Laura didn’t tell me. I know someone who knows someone, and I know you’re testing Darcy in scenarios.”
“What of it?” she snapped.
“I’m impressed. With Max monopolizing the backup servers for tests and using viral scripts to find memory leaks, I didn’t think you’d be doing much else.” He sighed. “He doesn’t do things in half measures, does he?”
She had supposed this information existed in a bubble containing only her and Max, but it appeared to be common knowledge. When this got back to her office mate, as it inevitably would, would he try to fire her again?
Evan caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “Max is a superpower unto himself, but feck it, Zoe, we’re cognitive scientists. We can match his efforts. If you want to release Darcy as a Regency bloke, you got to stick him in a Regency environment and test him there, too, for authenticity.”
“Yes, well, hang on ’til I get my DeLorean out of the garage,” she said.
“I have something better.”
“Evan’s virtual reality system,” José added. “It’s brilliant.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“It’s effing brilliant,” Laura said. “Zoe, you have to try it.”
“Sure, yeah. Sometime.” When this project is over and I get to reclaim my life.
“No, now,” Laura said.
“Nope, not happening.” She looked out the window to signal an end to this ridiculous conversation. What did virtual reality have to do with anything? This was about boys and their toys and whose was bigger.
The car went silent. Everybody seemed to expect someone else to say something.
Evan twisted around. “Think about it. You’ve got the code. We’ve got the VR Regency-world model lying around from dead projects. Interfaces are compatible—we saw to that. Only thing stopping you from plugging Darcy into our model and talking to him on his terms, dancing with him, falling into his cybernetic arms, is management.”
“Regency world? You mean, like ... Austenland?” she asked, feeling foolish, but it was the first concept that sprang to mind.
“Exactly like Austenland. Big, drafty houses, ballrooms, grouse hunting, fancy gowns, it’s all just sitting there waiting. I’m only asking you to try it.”
Laura tugged her sleeve. “We’re trying to help.”
José gave her a thumbs-up.
Another mile of motorway lights passed by before she could figure out her thoughts. She fixed Evan with a glare in the mirror. “You’re not into thrash metal at all, are you?”
“Don’t know what it is. I’m a jazz guy. Shoot me.”
Zoe turned to her friend. “I can’t believe you set me up.”
“Suck it up, Zoe,” came Laura’s sharp response. “You know what’s going on upstairs with Bob and the gang.”
“Yes, but I still don’t like being set up. Either ask me straight out or forget about it.” She slumped back into her seat, arms folded so tightly that her leather jacket protested.
“Well, we couldn’t take the chance,” Laura said. “Take Evan here, double PhD in computer graphics and cognition, seven years in VR at Zycorp, three kids at home. And guess what? He doesn’t fancy the idea of moving out of London for a new job.”
Zoe looked at the back of Evan’s thinning hair, surprised at his domesticity. This wasn’t a blind date after all. His job was on the line, his whole way of life. His, and those of many others. He wasn’t here for fun.
“The shareholders want to shovel the last AI out the door and get on with the business of profit-making,” Evan said. “The board can’t stand up to them. That’s why Harry brought in Mr. Miracle—his last hope of saving AI development, his dream. But Max is clueless when it comes to the real heart of the matter, the thing that will distinguish Darcy from every talking head that came before him—personality, persuasiveness, passion.”
“Is he really clueless?” Laura asked Zoe.
She gulped down a lump. The fresh hurts resurfaced. “Totally. He tried to fire me after that scene with you at lunch, remember? He just wants an AI that can make his coffee.”
“Figures,” Evan muttered.
“Yeah.” José shook his head slowly. “What was Harry thinking?”
She peered around at their faces in the semidarkness, intermittent road lights flashing on their eager foreheads. This was a coordinated onslaught for sure—the whole thing a setup from the very beginning—but she was beginning to see why.
“You know there are easier ways of hijacking me.”
“Difficult,” Laura said. “You’re either in Zycorp or sleeping. When was the last time you agreed to go anywhere socially with me?”
There was truth in that. In the year since she’d broken up with Tyler she’d been evaluating her life so hard she didn’t notice that others were maybe having fun out there. Trying to achieve something, to be someone, banging her head against the corporate brick wall had cost her the time and effort she should have used for socializing. No wonder her love life was extinct. Tyler’s concerts were her only outings of late.
“Exactly,” Laura said, reading her mind as usual.
But this was something bigger than her and her paltry complaints. Testing Darcy in virtual reality gave them a whole new feedback loop that would allow them to tune his behavior for situations in any time or place, but especially within the Regency era with all its strict codes of etiquette. Also, being responsible for a body that could interact with these worlds added such interesting dimensions to his character that she was ashamed not to have thought of this herself. She’d assumed it would be too much work to adapt his model to the VR, but the researchers were a step ahead and had already thought of that. A swirl of illicit excitement started low in her stomach. The idea was amazing actually, much more inclusive than her scenarios for Darcy-on-the-phone. She wanted to toss her whole plan up in the air and start from scratch. And yet, something within her was holding remarkably firm.
“Just throwing this out there, but why didn’t Harry suggest testing Darcy in VR himself? It seems the best way after all.”
Evan twisted back to face the windscreen. “Harry’s got no say. We’re blocked up with banking simulations, which some people in high places think are more important. It’s a battle of resources—and by that I mean server time.”
“Wake up and smell the coffee, Zoe,” Laura added.
“Don’t worry, I can smell it burning.”
“Don’t be like that. We need you.”
“You expect Darcy to miraculously save your jobs, don’t you?”
José leaned forward and spoke in his smooth, business-developer voice. “If he does, it won’t be a miracle but a masterminded campaign. Look here, Zoe, we can value-add to Darcy by upselling Regency virtual reality packs. This way we have a fighting chance of him going viral and earning us serious cash. Otherwise, there’s not a chance in hell.”
His logic sank in. Also the disconcerting feeling that there was a distinct them-versus-her vibe going on in the car, as if she’d gone off and donned a prim blouse, pretentious reading glasses and a skirt suit from Zegna.
“You in or not?” Evan pressed.
“I don’t know.” She picked at the studs on her leather bracelet. “I have to think. Heavens above, let me think.”
If she released the code to Evan, because that’s what he was really asking for, it wouldn’t just be breaking the nondisclosure—it would be setting to flame every legal contract she’d signed in front of Harry and laughing in his dear old face. They were asking her to risk her job, her career for this. But if they were all out of jobs, what difference would it make? Better to go out in a blaze of glory.
“I want to try it out at least,” she said. “Please turn the car around.”
They whooped in triumph, except for the driver, who shook his head in exasperation.
“Vive la résistance,” Laura said.
Tyler would never forgive her for missing his concert, but this was more important. Max would never forgive her for branching off and following this dangerous, illegal path. But who cared about him?
His dog, maybe, if he had one. Unless he was being seriously negligent, and despicably coy, he didn’t seem to have a wife, or family, or even a girlfriend distracting him from his narrowly defined mission in life. Not that she cared, of course.