Zoe hid in the ladies’ toilets. Then she told herself not to be such a goddamn idiot, peeped out, and on seeing the coast was clear, tiptoed down to the elevators. The elevator descended at its usual leisurely pace to the ground floor without incident.
She couldn’t believe she’d slapped him. A satisfying whack, and then that visceral jolt of pleasure that followed. Her hand trembled in the aftershock. How could he ever think she’d sleep with Bob to buy favor? What did that say about Max’s opinion of her? Yes, pretty darn low.
Downstairs in the usability office, Laura’s face was flushed with excitement, too. “Are you ready for the ball? We’ve been practicing the first Royal Scotch Quadrille.”
Oh yes, she’d forgotten about the ball. “Max is still in the building. We may have to postpone.”
“Are you okay?” Laura asked. “You look a bit upset.”
She gave a brittle laugh, not yet able to tell the story. “I-I’m okay. I hope Miss Everett will keep her naughty little paws off Darcy tonight.”
“I shall make no such promise.” Laura sounded uncannily like her alter ego.
“May the best woman win.” José sauntered up to Laura’s desk and kissed her forehead. “You got me on your dance card, too, babe? I’m going by the name of Mr. Wilson this evening, and I am far more dashing than Mr. Darcy.”
“Of course you are, sweetie, but don’t you dare step on my toes again.”
How at ease they were with each other after barely two weeks of going out, gelling almost without being aware of it. No power struggle, perfect complicity, effortless, like Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet. Had they any idea how lucky they were?
“Doesn’t your boyfriend care about this little side affair you got burning in the nineteenth century?” she asked Laura, just to stir things up because their complacency was nauseating.
“Well, she lets me hang out with Zorda the Amalian warrior princess.” José flexed his biceps to indicate, presumably, that the cyber princess had strength in spades.
“We’ve an open relationship when it comes to cyber beings,” Laura explained.
“Does this mean you’ve been given permission to jump Darcy’s bones?”
Laura put on her mock horror face. “I would never be so dumb. That would relegate me in Darcy’s eyes to utter filth.”
“I trust Miss Everett will remember that.”
“I can still mess with him though.” Laura grinned.
“I think I’m going to enjoy this.” José rubbed his palms. “When do the games begin?”
“Max is still in the building,” Laura said.
“So?” he asked.
“Too risky.”
“Oh, it’s still a big secret, is it?”
“Yes, it’s still a big secret.”
Moments later, Evan arrived, jabbing at his watch. “Hey, folks, what are you all doing down here? Let’s get the show started.”
“Max is—” Zoe began.
“Right here,” a familiar voice came from behind Evan.
Her jaw slackened. Huh?
Max sauntered through the door, looking sleepy, carrying her purse. “I believe this is yours.” He took her hand and looped the handles around her wrist, chivalrous as you please.
She clutched her purse to her chest and backed away from him, crushed with embarrassment, anger, confusion.
“Some secret,” José said.
“Look, I bumped into him, he was looking for you, and I told him.” Evan impatiently swiped hair away from his eyes. “He knows, all right? Can we move it along here please?”
“But—” She rounded on Evan, furious at his betrayal. “What right had you?”
The calm expression on the researcher’s careworn face told her that no drama-queen antics were going to intimidate him. The guy had three daughters after all.
Max’s expression was also one of composure. Again, irritating in the extreme.
“And you’re okay with this?” she threw at him.
“Zoe, this deception is costing you and me more than you know. Just believe I’m on your side, no matter how crazy it seems. Please?”
She hung her head. Yes, she’d deceived him. But for his own good. For Darcy. For the project. It was the only way. Going the honest route meant taking him on, taking on the entire chauvinistic company, and being thwarted. She’d needed guerrilla tactics, goddamn it. What part of that didn’t he get?
Now that he’d supposedly joined their side, she couldn’t deal with him. Once again, the control had been snatched from her hands. She made sure to keep Laura engaged in a one-on-one conversation until they reached Evan’s office, just to avoid having to talk to Max. She also made sure they rode in separate elevators.
Inside the VR office, Max prowled around like a curious panther in his new home, fingering the equipment, picking things up, asking a bazillion questions. The guys humored him, just like they had at lunchtime. They seemed overeager to please him, and it took ages before they were ready to get going, for all Evan’s earlier impatience. “You’re wasting time,” she wanted to yell.
When it was finally time to start the ball scene, Max wanted to plug his own phone into Evan’s VR setup, presumably to check that nothing got copied over without a password. Couldn’t he trust her to have upheld the security of the project?
They stood in a semicircle around Evan’s desk as the researcher tapped some final commands into a dialog box. “I know you’re dying for the ball to start, but let’s try a less complex outside scene first, with fewer people,” Evan said, whirling around to face Zoe. “And you gotta move your ass in this one. We’re taking it to the fourth dimension, babe. Come, follow me.”
He held up arm-length opera gloves riddled with sensors and a pair of ankle bracelets. “Yeah, we just got these sorted out. A little something the kinetics team’s been working on in their spare time. You can control your avatar’s limb movements.” He beamed. “Come on, try it out.”
“Oh, cool.” She banished her annoyance to the back of her head and pulled on the black gloves, which enveloped her arm right up to her t-shirt sleeves. She stretched out an arm, pleased with the snug fit. So much more advanced than the simple wrist monitor she’d been wearing.
Evan approached her with ankle sensors, which were simple Velcro-strapped rings.
Max pushed forward. “Allow me.” He knelt down on one knee in front of her. She watched the top of his thick, chestnut hair glinting under the lights and tried not to think about how running her hands through the shiny waves would feel, if she were to lose her mind and actually do it. When his fingertips grazed the small indentation behind her ankle she nearly kneed him in the face in shock. Then she wanted him to keep doing it.
“It’s a bit fiddly,” he said.
“It’s Velcro,” she said. “What they put on shoes for four-year-olds.”
He moved to the other leg. While he worked, his fingertips teased her other ankle several times just under the hem of her jeans. She didn’t want to enjoy it, but she did. She didn’t want to imagine that gentle caressing on other parts of her body, but she did, and her whole body went rigid with anticipation. Was this his way of torturing her in retaliation for slapping him?
He straightened and caught her eyes for a moment. Although he wasn’t smiling, his eyes glowed with happy pleasure. It wasn’t that he looked younger but as if life had been a bit kinder to him. No doubt her own fluster was written across her face, but she’d gone beyond hoping to conceal it. Her chest rose and fell in perfect time with his, which meant—
Evan brushed between them. “Sorry to break this up, folks, but she needs a room—a rather special room.”
Max broke off to the side. Evan led the way through the desks, beckoning her to an empty space down the far end of the VR office, about ten square feet. Sensors had been duct-taped into the ground at regular intervals around the square perimeter of the area. She saw it all through a haze and tried to concentrate on what the researcher was saying.
“This is our VR mobility patch. If you move out of the boundaries, it’ll warn you, don’t worry. Darcy or someone may lead you to a bench, so do trust him. It’ll be in the right position for you to sit down.” Evan patted a chair in the middle of the space with sensors built into it.
“All right,” she breathed. Putting on the headset was excruciating with Max watching her every move. But once Austenland popped up inside her headset she got sucked in.
The party was preparing for a walk around the grounds of Hewell House, property of Sir Everett, Miss Everett’s father, before the ball. A fluttering young maid in a white blouse and black skirt handed her a bonnet. She moved her hand to accept it and ... it worked. Her avatar’s entire arm appeared in her view, moving as she did, and grasped the bonnet between her fingers. It added an extra dimension of reality.
“This is so cool,” she muttered. “I mean, thank you, Nancy.”
She took a tentative step forward, and the world moved with her. She’d never used her legs in the VR before, and the scenarios had taken that limitation into account. But now she had the freedom to walk, skip, dance. She took a few more steps and did a swirl. “This is fabulous.”
The maid simpered and ran off.
“I’m gratified that you decided to join us.” Darcy sidled up, looking spiffy in a full, formal dance suit.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” she said. She peered beyond him to where Miss Everett was smiling and waving saucily, the little minx. With her dainty bonnet, little white kid gloves, and lemon-hued silk dress, she looked like a right little Becky Sharp ready to get her clutches on the most eligible man around. At least now that José was here to chaperone Laura, Miss Everett couldn’t misbehave too much, even if she had an equal ability to prance about in all her finery.
The Hewell House garden glistened before Zoe in the early evening mist, and she found herself strolling through it with Darcy. At some level, she knew she was walking around in a small circle in real life, but it didn’t feel like it the way the grassy terrain unfolded before her with every step. She kept her distance from her gentleman, not only because social convention demanded it, but also because she didn’t want to ruin the illusion by having her avatar’s hand slice through him like a ghost. And maybe because someone else was watching this scene play out.
Zoe felt a tug on her arm. She whirled around to see the matronly housekeeper of Hewell House, Mrs. Beardsley.
“Ma’am, is it true that you have no fondness for rabbit stew, for I heard it just now?”
“Um, well … no, I’m fine with that.” It wasn’t like she was going to have to eat the damn stuff.
The housekeeper’s rosy cheeks lifted in a smile of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. Cook was much in distress to think that she may have to prepare a different dish.”
“No, I’m sure that’s not necessary, Mrs. Beardsley.” Zoe smiled kindly. “Tell Cook it’s fine.”
“The master loves his rabbit stew, he does, especially when Cook prepares it the French way.”
“I’m sure.” Zoe’s attention followed Darcy, who had started walking off somewhere.
“But Mr. Upton, when he dined with us here last week, he did not like it at all. And Cook had prepared an extra fine dish, if I may say so myself. No, he said it tasted like foul mud. That was a disaster indeed. Mr. Everett was most displeased. Yes, it put him in bad humor for the entire evening, and nothing could make it right.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I shan’t think Mr. Upton shall be gracing our doorstep for many a month.”
“No, indeed. I’m sorry, but I really must go to my friends, Mrs. Beardsley.”
“Oh.” The housekeeper flapped her apron at her. “But do not let me detain you.”
Miss Everett, meanwhile, had lured Darcy to the end of the garden. Three quick strides brought Zoe within hearing distance of the pair in the grove, and she overheard the words, “Miss Everett, I have been grievously unaware of your interest in my person, but if your feelings are leaning in this direction, I am much obliged to you.”
“What?” she called out. “That’s what you said to me. The same words, Mr. Darcy. How could you?” She stamped her foot, producing the realistic sound of leather slapping against cobblestone path. She was no longer acting.
An intrusive message blinked on the screen. “Miss Everett is offline.” She’d vanished in a puff in exactly the way real-life rivals never did. She was going to strangle Laura. She’d set her up with that rabbit stew diversion.
“Darcy, I thought you had feelings for me.”
“Of course I do.”
“But why then did you sneak off with Miss Everett and speak sweet nothings with her? You were supposed to be accompanying me to Hewell House.”
“You were otherwise engaged. I am predisposed to find any individual with whom I am speaking pleasant.”
“Since when?”
“I do not recall a time when I was not.”
“And love?”
“I am afraid the question is too ill-defined.”
“Let me rephrase then. Did you love Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Yes, with all my heart.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, with all my heart.”
“And Miss Everett? Do you love her, too?”
“Yes, with all my heart.”
She huffed. A hard-coded answer. “With all your heart. What does that even mean to you? You don’t have a heart, do you?”
“Indeed, this feature is currently inoperative.”
“So, what does the word ‘love’ mean to you?”
“It is a semantic placeholder.”
“Well, that’s just wonderful.” She ripped off the headset and shook out her hair. It took her several breaths to come back to a sense of reality and several more to calm down. The AI couldn’t go around saying stuff like this. It destroyed the dream. The customers would demand their money back.
She caught Max’s eye from across the room. Great. Why couldn’t he have shown up for one of the VR episodes where everything had gone swimmingly, like a final chapter in Jane Austen? No, he had to make his guest appearance on the one occasion when everything was falling to pieces.
“Darcy, new rule,” she said. “When you encounter your user, the person who buys you, or first installs you, that person is the one you love. If they admit any attachment to you, or even hint of it, then you must prefer that person over all others. You must be prepared to do uncomfortable things for the sake of that person, and you must adore that person to exclusion of all others. Sure, you can like other people but not love them. Even if you don’t feel it, even if it’s not programmable, you gotta fake it in everything you say and do. Got that?”
She paused to catch her breath after her outburst. It was easier to scold the AI when he was just a head and shoulders on her phone. He seemed to have been cowed into silence.
“An interesting notion of love.” Max came up beside her. “Surely he should be able to choose, if it’s to have any value at all?”
“You’d leave it up to chance? Well, I wouldn’t. What if disappointed users want their money back?”
“Then they don’t deserve him.”
“Nobody deserves him. But if we’re selling him off at £299 a pop, let’s not disappoint the undeserving public. Honestly, don’t you have the first clue about customer satisfaction?”
“I’ve got you looking after that side of things.”
“Giving in so easily, Max? What’s wrong with you tonight?”
He held her gaze for a second too long. “This has gone way beyond my control.”
She fingered the headset. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. It’ll sort itself out at the ball.”