Runner's Companion.pdf - Free

Simon Wentworth (order #1132857) 9life on the run . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .trying to track down for the last few days. The man had checkedinto a DC hotel under one of the alias’ she’d found for him. Sheshould go harass him… Still, it’d be nice to get a paycheck—theAzzie job was for the Co-op, and they weren’t much on payingin cash.Sighing, she decided to contact the Johnson. After the call,she was 100k richer… but contemplating what she’d agreed to domade her feel slightly ill.The Resonance Realms.Just thinking it, she felt the datasphere shiver across her skin,raising goose bumps.The Johnson made noises about “lost” data, accidentally deleted,but Netcat read between the lines. Someone had hit him,hit him hard where it really hurt—information. The problemwith destroying data in the Matrix was that the Resonance alwaysremembered it, no matter how obscure, how well destroyed, howwell-guarded. It was a closely held secret—how the Johnson hadfound out about the Resonance Realms was a question she’d findthe answer to… after she earned her 100k. Then she’d decide whatshe would do to him, with his dangerous knowledge of technomancersecrets…First things first. Netcat forced herself to eat a OnceADaybar, tasteless as it was. Then she brought out her med-drone, asleek little plug of a machine that could maintain her body whileshe was… gone. While it hummed to life, Netcat focused her attentionon the rich wifi signals around her, weaving together thesilken strands until she’d formed a mass of wireless energy, flickeringin AR within her cupped hands. She blew on it, breathing lifeinto the shapeless energy, and felt it stir. The mass moved, armsand legs uncurling, a tiny face blinking sleepily. The little machinesprite looked up at her, curious, a tiny amalgamation of code andglyphs shaped into existence by her will.I need you to inhabit this machine, Netcat instructed it.Maintain my physical body while my soul searches the ResonanceRealms. The little sprite nodded and scuttled from her hands intothe machine’s node. The drone followed her to her sleep-chair,humming around her as she lay down and closed her eyes. She lefther body before she could feel the pinch of the IV.In VR, the universe stretched out around her, infinite, beautiful,beckoning. Nodes glittered like gemstones, while data swirledalong in the currents of the Matrix. Netcat took a deep breath,feeling herself whole, powerful, alive in a way she never felt in themundane world. Flexing her icon’s claws, she leapt into the streamsof dataflow and began her search.Creating a gateway to the Resonance Realms would be theeasiest part.Eventually, she did, after hours of meditating, sensing thecurrents of resonance that flowed through the Matrix, followingthe streams back to their source. She knew immediately when shesaw it, a gateway of swirling mass of color and sound, sheddingfragments of code as it blazed. The noise was almost too muchfor her, and her ears flattened back against her head, her eyes narrowedagainst the brilliance. Before she could lose her courage, shejumped into the conflagration.It burned. It felt like it was ripping her apart, reforming herinto a new image, tossing her through into… the gateway. A blankwhite room. No doors, no windows, just four solid white walls. Astick-like man stood in the center. She stood before him, no longeran icon of a cat, but a flesh-and-blood woman, a little too thin,with a tangle of dark hair and wide green eyes.“You wish to cross?” the stick man asked.Netcat bowed before him. “I seek the Archives,” she said, asa thin line of sweat snaked down her back.The man looked at her, his eyes black, and Netcat waswrenched into a vision. She saw her body laying in the tatteredsleep chair, her skin faded to a translucent white, veins like bluelace under her pale skin. Alone. Helpless. She watched, in horror,as the safeguards in her home were breeched, a silent alarm wailingin AR. Her heart rate kicked up, her breath strangled, as thedoor edged open. She shoved a fist into her mouth, biting downto keep from screaming—wake up wake up wake up—watched asblack clad men crept into the room. They approached her body,laying there unaware, reached out to pull the IV from her arm,to violate her—Netcat fought the fear down, wrestled with theoverwhelming panic, the urge to snap out of VR and back intoher body, blood rushing in her head as she kept a scream downthrough sheer force of will. A man pulled out a syringe, pressed itinto her unresisting flesh, and Netcat—Was looking at the stick man. In the white room.“Your coding is improving,” he said and the white roommelted away.She’d passed the test. Shaky, Netcat took a step forward,then another, and found herself in the endless hallways of thegreat archive.Curiously shaped sprites bustled past her, ignoring her, carryingreams of old-style paper. Netcat followed them, looking fora librarian, one of the creaky old sprites that supervised the others.Eventually, she found one, and in exchange for the gift she’dbrought, it gave her a bound book. Netcat flipped the book open,reading the pages. She wasn’t an expert, but it looked like researchon bio-drones. The very last page said Deleted, June 1st, 2071,09:34:09 PST. Archived 09:34:10 PST. Netcat clutched the bookto her as she traced back her steps, finding the exit—which wasalways so much easier—and returning to the surface world.She sat up, feeling awkward back in the physical confines ofher own flesh. The wifi ether was there, reassuring, a soft blanketon her skin. She ripped the IV out of her arm, while the drone retractedother unpleasant medical devices. Finally free of the tangle,Netcat tentatively pulled on a few threads of resonance, calling upthe Mr. Johnson. The same perfect icon formed in her view.“Netcat?” the man said, blinking. “Ah, I’d begun to worry,after so long with no word.” Netcat checked the date. June 11th.Well, fuck.“I was able to retrieve your data,” she said, after an awkwardmoment of silence. How do you explain to someone that timeflows differently in the Resonance Realms?“You were? That’s wonderful,” he said, smiling. Netcat tookthe data and sent it along the thread that connected them. Whichled straight to a NeoNET office in jolly old England. “I was afraid,after so long, that it was truly lost.”Netcat gave him a tight smile.“The Resonance never forgets.”180Runner’s Companion