All your Mods Belong to Us

[Tama]

"So..."

He leaned forward on his chair, in the nondescript office, adjusting his glasses. In front of him, the tall, slightly older young man, dressed in the standard avatar of a black, three piece suit, customized only in the head and hands, smoked a cigarette. The room smelt of nothing, and the only sound was the typical default preset muzak. Everything...was entirely normal. The less modded data, the better, he'd always thought. The older man adjusted his sunglasses, stubbed out his cigarette, the smell of cigarette ash entirely absent from the office, and the small icon showing he was "away from conversation" flicked out of existence.

 

"20,000 credits up front, we agreed?"

 

The client nodded.

 

"Yes"

 

A suitcase appeared on the table in front of the client, and he pushed it towards him. "Check it."

Getting up, he opened the case, and checked. As the client said. 20K of credits, about US$40. Not bad for a morning's work. He took the case, and it disappeared, the money pushing his credits happily over the quarter million mark.

"Any requests?"

"None. Shall we begin, Sleeper?"

 

He leaned back a little in the chair, a couple of commands quickly selected, and the room dissolved, replaced by a small, Scandinavian-esque bedroom, all cool tones and simple shapes, a perpetual snow scene that ended about twenty steps from the window, to be replaced by the rest of the office. The whole change took but a second or so, the client's chair replaced by something based upon an IKEA chair from the late 1980s. Tomas or Bjorn or something. He himself was curled up on the bed, in a white, fluffy dressing gown. No boxers, no t-shirt. Warm and rather cute, if he thought so himself.

"Of course."

 

- - - -

 

The sex was amazing as ever, he thought, as the older man decorated his back with soft bites, deep inside him, arms wrapped around him, his voice coming in soft pants. He'd been careful, as he himself was. Voice a little masked, possibly his own voice through a patch, or a lifelike voicebox. Either way it turned him on, his nails dug into his chest, that husky European drawl telling him exactly what he thought, how much his body turned him on, exactly how much cum he was going to drench his insides with. It surprised him, hands on his own cock as the client moved inside him, that after all this sex, all these partners, most of them using the basic avatar, keeping anonymous, money leaving accounts with nameless, faceless emails, how much stuff like that still turned him on.

This man, for example, used a four digit number. 3281. Randomly chosen, no doubt. They came for sex, they paid, they fucked, they left. 20, maybe up to 45 minutes. Rarely over an hour, and if you did, well, that was extra...same with weird and unusual stuff.

 

The orgasm slunk up on him, half dazed, and the sudden hot feeling as his partner unloaded inside him pushed him over the edge, messing up his stomach, the cum almost reaching his chin. Not bad. He tried not to think of sex as pleasure, tried not to get his emotions get involved with this job. He rarely masturbated, rarely did anything sexual outside this. Mostly men, occasionally women. Paid up front, no questions asked.

He let himself flop back, and smile at the other man, bringing up a business card out of nowhere, with a click of his fingers.

"Hope you had fun. If you enjoyed that, I'm sure we can book another session some time. Message me, kai?"

The other man nodded and, a few minutes later, dressed, and left the chat through the door, wandering off through the snow, and back through the office.

As he lay there, worn out, soft breaths forming clouds in the air, an alert flicked up in his HUD

"Lecture in 25 minutes"

He sat up, stretched, and checked his schedule. Apart from the lecture, there was a client late in the evening-one of his regulars. Nothing tomorrow, so he could do coursework. He nodded, and muttered his logout word.

"Neubauten"

 

The room faded out, replaced by his own, messier and far less chique room, fingers running through his messy short hair, massaging the barcode tattooed on his wrist. Replacing his headset on its stand, he massaged his forehead. It had been twenty years since the internet, that great connection of computers becoming a connection of minds, of people. Web 3.0. Times had changed in the world, since that day, two years to the day since his birth, but everyone had to make money somehow, either in virtual re-creations of offices they actually worked in, or more freelance positions...even the AR/VR students that would one day probably end up working on the Net. Because the net had taken over the world, like some spider's trap. And he who could sell a service upon it, be it VR/AR re-creations of Pokemon, working for what had once called itself Nintendo, or cyber-ladies of the night. ]

 

Make money from the net, do it well, and you could be set for life. Or so the self help PDFs read...

[SqueezeBabe]

He ran a hand through his dark red hair, brushing the thick bangs from his face. Haircut he mumbled to himself, though he never would actually get one. His thick hair covered most of his forehead and hung over his eyes, hiding the thick glasses that framed his face. Standing in front of the virtual whiteboard, he was assembling the lecture notes for the class, his hand movements fluid like a dancers as he pulled information from the source and spread it about the board. His class was advanced AR/VR - Augmented Reality/Virtual Reality. His students were from all ages and varying levels of competence. Most used his class as a filler for their course; easy credits for the young ones who just breezed through, though his class was part of the reeducation program for those who hadn't quite grasped the change in reality and still having trouble adjusting. The advancements that humanity had made in technology had swept the masses up like a tidal wave, and for most it was sink or swim. Those young enough to adapt quickly, had taken to the technology like the younger generations before them, however, those of a more... mature vintage struggled to keep up.

 

The time flashed up on the whiteboard, reminding him that he had five minutes before the lecture started and his students would start arriving. Today's lesson was to focus on simple interactions within the Virtual world, like entering a chat room and talking to someone. The university provided helmets for people to use, but if the students wanted to bring their own, then they were more than welcome, however, the university would not take any responsibility for any damage the helmets sustained in any of the classes. He patted his own helmet absently, whilst it looked rather ordinary on the outside, it had state of the art internals, testimony to his "other" job - designing software for the systems to run on.

 

As his class began to fill with students, he took a deep breath and turned and faced them. "Good Afternoon everyone, My name is Vincent Fleming, and I am your lecturer for this class. Now, if you would all put on your AR glasses..." he gave a pause as he watched the class comply with his request before giving a small smile. With a flick of his wrist, his name came up in front of him, in large block letters, seemingly floating in the air in front of him, "... we can now begin with your first lesson."

[Lady.Taser]

Maxamillion sauntered into the lecture hall, probably about 10 minutes after the lecture had started. All he could see were rows of people in these ridiculous looking helmets and he sighed. Surely technology had moved past the horrible contraptions that were sure to ruin his hair, he'd had to sit still for 20 minutes earlier while his stylist had worked on it making it sit just right to look deliberately and fashionably messed up. He took a seat at the back of the room and rested his chin in his hands, a small section of his pitch black hair obscuring the view of the lecturer. Green eyes surveyed the room, he couldn't even tell if there was anyone worth fucking in the room, the face was as important as the body and they were all hidden.

 

Honestly Maxamillion didn't want to be here, he wasn't used to doing things he didn't want to so wasn't sure how to take it. This was one argument he was never going to win with his father. Max, you are the heir to the worlds leading supplier in advanced AR technology. You WILL understand it, and you will attend this class. That was all his father would say on the matter and so here Maxamillion was, at the age of 27, having been spoilt his whole live, in a class.... learning about AR and VR.

 

His eyes had focused on the lecturer after a quick scan of the room and eventually he got fed up of hearing the man talk, watching him wave his arms but not seeing anything he was talking about. With a huge, self pitying sigh he picked up the ridiculous helmet and tried putting it on, wondering why it wasn't fitting properly and he turned to ask the girl he'd sat next to. As he looked over he instantly shut his mouth, a light flush staining his cheeks as he quickly turned the helmet around and put it on, a job much easier now it wasn't backwards.

[ravenwyck]

Rhys O'Donovan rubbed at the back of his neck near the base of his skull, nudging his unkempt black hair out of the way as he slid the pads of his long fingers across an irritated patch of skin. The implant he'd had installed last week had been worth every damn penny, but it still took getting used to and he continued to wear his headset to class while his body adjusted. An electronic cigarette hung from his mouth as he stared out over the lecture hall. He hated the taste of the thing, or rather the lack of, but it was better than nothing. His amber eyes focused on a late comer, Maxamillion, unless he missed his guess. A smirk played at his lips as he watched the man struggle with his class-provided helmet on the other side of the room. What a waste. His father's company was responsible for the implant Rhys now used and the son couldn't even work a basic helmet. Easy on the eyes, at least.

 

Rhys was just using this class to fill out his credits, but it had been designed with guys like Maxamillion in mind. Well, not spoiled rich kids, per say, but he had to admit that Professor Fleming knew his shit. Scrubbing his hand through his hair, Rhys pulled himself from his thoughts. He had a lot of work to do before the lecture was over. He might not need this class for the knowledge it provided, but that didn't mean he didn't use the time productively. He had a client waiting on a custom mod and now was as good a time as any to get to work on it. With a sigh, he flicked his headset into 'stealth' mode so his own movements wouldn't give him away and quietly started work on his own project as the rest of the lecture hall concentrated on learning the basics.

[Tama]

He half-fell on the steps up to the lecture theatre, silently cursing. Why the hell had he signed up for this course anyway? He could have happily taken something else that required just as little effort in the exam, but hadn't needed him to go into every damned lecture...this was kids stuff...he'd taken exams harder than this in secondary school...ah, well. He picked himself up, dusted down the baggy, slightly too big jeans, and continued up the stairs. What with the session he'd just completed, he was only just on time, and pushed open the door, sighing softly. Almost full, with a minute or so to go until the lecture. Yeesh.

A bunch of slackers, either on remedial course, or coasting happily, and merely picking this up for a few extra credits, a couple of kids bumped up a couple of grades, and the usual half crowd of 2.0s, people who had, in short, never really acclimatised to the new way of life. Greying hair, none of the typical tattoos, usually on hands or wrists, or somewhere equally accessible. Essentially outcasted, stuck in the early 21st century, robbed of identity and social security-this was, in short, part of their re-education, an attempt to train them in the new way in which things worked, hoping to release them into society happy citizens of Web 3.0

 

He flopped into a seat, watching the messy haired professor take his place in front of the AR Board. The tech was the sort of thing that had started out as a gimmick, the sort of thing that would be used in games consoles to make colourful characters flop up on screen, but now everything used it, from billboards to tv stations. Sighing, he opened his bag, pulled out his cased headset, and pulled it on, flicking the switch. Instantly, the professor's name appeared.

Well. Time to tune out. He called up his virtual keyboard, typed in the first tv series name he could think of, his fingers drumming on the table. A few seconds later, he found its first episode on a streaming site, before flicking his wrist, so the opening titles filled half his screen, the other half clear, half-watching the lesson.

[SqueezeBabe]

Vincent detached the visor from his headset, that part being custom-made to fit over his own glasses. The headset still streamed information to the visor via it's wireless connection; it was just something that made his class easier - he was moving around and it was cumbersome to have the full helmet. Another internal sigh and promise to spend the money to get the implant that would mean we could do away with the helmet... but he was attached to it, he hadn't yet worked out how to integrate most of his software designs into the implant, and would most likely mean that he'd have to rewrite most of it... something that he didn't have quite have the time for now that he was lecturing. His mind was already split in two - one half going through the motions with his class, the other coming up with workarounds for his software; he'd have to do it sooner or later as more and more people switched from the headsets to the implants.

 

Images flickered up in front of him, unseen by the rest of the class. Whilst they were hooked into his lessons, he could monitor who was paying attention. The class layout shimmered into view; those paying attention were green icons, and those who and extra software running at the same time, showed up in red. One of the figures flashed red for a moment, before changing to green, perhaps someone just logging out of whatever they were doing to focus on his class. He couldn't see what they were doing without hacking completely into their individual headsets; something that he had no intention of doing, but at least this way he could see who might fall behind during the year. If they weren't paying attention and failing his class, then he'd have to talk to them individually. If they were't paying attention BUT passed with flying colours... well, there was little he could actually do about that.

 

He continued with his class, his hands moving fluidly to bring up the visual examples of what he was going through, before bringing the first lesson to a close. As he removed the visor, it got tangled with his glasses which fell to the floor with a clatter. He hurriedly bent to pick them up and put them back on, a split second of panic filling his heart. Whilst it was exceedingly unlikely he'd be recognised without them; the great software designer, the reclusive "Phantom" never made public appearances, one could never be too careful...

[Lady.Taser]

Maxamillion found he didn't even even understand the basics of what the lecturer was saying... what was this guys name again. Flumm... no... Flec... no... Flemming or something. Argh... it didn't matter, all that mattered was he needed to pass this course. He had no fucking clue what his father would do if he did, maybe send him to some boarding school lock up... Maxamillion shivered dreading the very thought of it and quickly looked around the room. He didn't know who was clever but he knew he needed help. The logical choice would be the lecturer, but surely there was someone else he could ask.

 

Some of the headsets people were wearing in class were considerably more high tech than the basic bulk order helmets. Jesus these things were basically being fazed out of the production line these days. Maxamillion thought that the the most advanced headsets probably belonged to the more clever students. He spotted one guy sat on the other side of the room, dark hair visible past the much smaller headset and from the looks of it not paying attention to the class.

 

Other than the lecturer he seemed to be the only one intelligent enough to teach him, putting up with him would be another matter. He sighed heavily, resting his head in his arms on the desk. The helmet prodding into his arm uncomfortably as he debated how much his pride could take. The options were fail and get sent somewhere else... or ask for help now and pass the class...

 

With an almost audible groan he opened up a second program after about 5 minutes of fiddling. Luckily he was able to find the username of the guy sat on the opposite side of the room and sent him a rather simple message:

 

I am Maxamillion Thorpe. You will be hired to help teach me the contents i need to pass this course and will be rewarded in return.

 

The message was short and commanding, that was about as close to 'asking for help' as he could get. The only thing that made it help not an order was the offer of a reward at the end.

[ravenwyck]

Rhys barely suppressed a growl as the small beep of an incoming message interrupted his work on a particularly trick bit of code. Puffing with annoyance at his smokeless cigarette, he noted that it was addressed to his university account. He glanced up at the red-haired man giving his lecture as he accessed the message. The last one had been from a professor, giving Rhys a polite heads up that working on his own projects in class would not be tolerated. It was the reason he'd begun working on the his 'activity masker' in the first place. Once he got the bugs worked out, with the 'flick of a switch' it would break down and encode his activities, hiding them within the running of other innocuous programs of his choosing. He was going make a killing selling off that particular program and now that he had his own implant he was already working on integrating it into his new hardware.

 

Shifting his attention to the teacher, now moving about the classroom, Rhys smirked. Vincent Fleming had an awkward way about him that was only further accented by his thick glasses.Fleming did seem like the type to track his students activity and get bent out of shape when people didn't pay complete attention to him. A nerd on an ego trip. He couldn't be more than a few years older than Rhys himself yet he was already an established lecturer. But, even Rhys could lead this class. It was pathetically easy material. Teaching grown adults what even toddlers these days knew probably gave the otherwise socially inept man some over-inflated sense of self-importance. It was easy for Rhys to imagine that his stealth setup was malfunctioning and he was getting another one of those warnings now.

 

Rhys raised an eyebrow as he pulled himself from his thoughts. The message was from Maxamillion Thorpe? He sucked nicotine deep into his lungs as he read the terse, arrogant note. The heir to the leading AR company in the world couldn't even muddle his way through a remedial class like this? With great effort, he managed not to laugh aloud, but his smirk was a cruel thing as he considered the 'offer.' Dealing with an idiot like Max would be a pain, but at least he was pretty enough to look at. Access to the newest and most powerful tech on the market would a be 'reward' well worth the inconvenience. Rhys' amber eyes were already gleaming with thoughts of how he could utilize his shiny new toys as he typed out his reply.

[Tama]

As this drag of a lesson came to an end, so did the episode, the cheesy 1980s ending fading out. He flicked back through his notes, kept meticulously. It surprised himself sometimes that he could focus on both tv and work so well, amused himself that he'd adapted so well to this world. A couple of screen grabs, too. Always helped him to remember, visual aids. He flicked back, checking his messages. A couple of cancellations, a couple of requests. Not bad. He logged out, got to his feet, and started packing his bag, watching the room empty. The professor himself was busy logging out, packing his own bag. The teacher wasn't bad looking, long red hair, glasses that suited his piercing green eyes. Flemming. Like the author.

 

Suddenly, unbidden, he found his mind wandering back to the last time he'd had sex in 1.0. A girl, pretty, messy black hair. Gentle fumbling. Warm. Over a year ago. She was somewhere else, another state. He still occasionally 2.0'd with her, but she was busy, course or work or something. She was just as good there, the physicality just as...physical. But, something...something was wrong...sure, he made a decent wage off it, body gently kissed, touched, then entered...it became anonymous. Avatars blending into one. But, for some reason...this man caught his attention. He wanted...something real, something that wasn't just a hundred thousand mega-pixels, wasn't just something that could be switched off

 

He took a step down the stairs. Then another.

 

"Sir...sorry I was late..."

 

He let a soft smile play on his lips. "Hope...I didn't miss anything important..."

[SqueezeBabe]

"Sir... sorry I was late... Hope... I didn't miss anything important..."

 

Vincent looked up to where the voice had come from; one of the students from the class. He had a soft and pliable look to him, and the way he held himself immediately made him suspicious. This wasn't exactly the sort of class that one had to sleep with the lecturer to get a good grade... Vincent cleared his throat slightly, "It's ok to be late once in a while, but it's something that I would try to avoid in the future." He looked past the student to the seating in the hall, his mind working putting the face to where he actually sat; it seemed that this was one of the students who was running extraneous software during his class. He pushed his glasses up so that they sat more firmly on his nose, "Also, if you're worried about missing any of the content of my class, I would suggest that perhaps you pay attention to it instead of doing your own thing..."

 

He dismissed the student without another glance as he gathered up his helmet and made his way out of the class. It only slightly irked him that someone would stoop so low as to use wiles for such an easy class...

[Lady.Taser]

Reading the reply quickly, his eyes scanning the message he nodded his head. Not fully reading it but picking out the gist of the message, he had himself a teacher and that was important. He would rather waste some of his time now rather than a lot of it later, get this class done with and then go back to his life. No VR or AR or whatever the hell it was. Just back to normal reality, with real physical people and real experiences. In all honesty the only decent thing about these advances in his mind was the barcode chip in his arm allowing him to have that scanned at shops and restaurants to pay for meals. No more running around with pockets full of cash and bank cards, and meant it couldn't be stolen.

 

Chewing on his lower lip he thought the next message out a little more. He wanted it to still sound commanding, but to also express some gratitude at the others willingness to help, though the reward was probably the reason. He didn't know the man's name, but he did know the messages were private so anyone who approached him by the fountain he specified in the message would be the one who would be his tutor.

 

THe lesson ended rather quickly and Maxamillion glanced over at the lecturer, his red hair making him stand out and he saw the black haired youth talking to him. Maybe he wasn't the only one having trouble with the content of the class. He only stood still for a moment before swiftly grabbing his bag, leaving the helmet haphazardly on the desk before leaving the hall rather quickly. He specified the fountin in front of the main library as a meeting place. He like libraries, solid books that you could hold in your hand in the read word and read. When he got there he found the area to be predictably deserted, amiling he sat on the edge of the fountain watching the few passers by and hoping his tutor wouldn't get lost on the way there.

[ravenwyck]

Rhys glanced at the latest message from Max just before he powered down. This one was only slightly less demanding than the last. He was an annoying twit, but if he could use him to get access to his father's company and tech, Rhys would gladly deal with the man for a time.

 

Rhys barely spared a thought for the tableau playing out at the front of the hall as he watched Max make his way out of the room. He didn't know why they were leaving the class separately just to immediately meet again somewhere else, but Rhys enjoyed the library and often spent time offline there. Not many people used the facility any more. Maybe the rich brat just didn't want to be seen associating with him. They wouldn't run into many people there. Rhys glanced at helmet Thorpe had used for the lesson. It was shameless to see someone with his connections using such substandard equipment. He wondered if he would be expected to provide equipment for the useless man as well. That would undoubtedly cost more.

 

Pulling the electronic cigarette out of his mouth, Rhys replaced it with a 'real' one. Taking his lighter in hand he was already sucking sweet burning tobacco into his lungs the moment he cleared the building. There had been a push at some point to outlaw tobacco products entirely, but in the end, they had just become so heavily restricted and taxed that few people were willing or able to pay the money to support a habit. It was much the same with books, Rhys thought as his feet carried him automatically towards library. In a world where every book was at your fingertips in a blink, few people took the time, space, or money to invest in 'real' books anymore. You could experience almost any book as an interactive program these days and for those who preferred a more classic approach there were several plugins that would turn any book in your 'library' into an AR book that could be read as if real. It had never been the same to Rhys. Despite the fact that he made a good bit of his own living creating such illusions. Even at their best, they were always still just that. Illusions. Hacking had always been more fulfilling, but also more risky in equal measure.

 

When it came down to it, Rhys went wherever the money led him. Which is how he found himself standing before the fountain in front of the mostly empty library. He dropped his cigarette butt on the ground in front of the dark haired man seated on the fountain's edge, already lighting another as he snuffed the first out with the heel of his sneaker. Rhys' amber gaze appraised the man. He was pretty enough to look at least. But, if Maxamillion Thorpe tried to speak to him in person in the same way he communicated by text, Rhys had a feeling the man would learn a lot about what you could do with AR/VR technology, but he probably wouldn't enjoy the experience very much. After a moment, Rhys spoke. "So, how do you want to do this? I expect to be paid at the beginning of each lesson with the tech I mentioned previously delivered upon your successful completion of the class. If that is agreeable, then, once you've decided upon a place and time, I'll print out a service contract for you to sign."

[Tama]

Well.

 

That had been boring. The professor seemed bored with his own job; what kind of guy would nonchalantly shrug away being that late? Honestly...And as for that remark about using other applications...well, he could have probably shut them off, made his students pay full and undivided attention. He seemed as bored about his own lesson as his students did, going through the motions, the least possible amount of work. In short, the average professor-forced to take just enough lectures so he counted as part of the department, but not enough to really conflict with whatever project they were (doubtless) working on. Still, he was getting through that boxset well, his notes weren't that bad, and were probably enough to make more than a decent stab on their own, without his other knowledge. He pulled the goggles on outside, in the cold air, and stretched. Nothing. No mails, either good or bad.

 

He sighed. Well, today was really dull generally. No appointments till this evening. Might as well go for a walk. The library was nice, but...Eh, the woods were also nice. He set the visor to half transparency and set off, slinging his bag onto his back. A few popups flicked across the screen, mostly "Welcome to the University" type things, and opening hours, lecture times. You know, the basic stuff. Probably coded by someone a few years ago as a project, connected to the online database that only students could access. Deceptively simple for World 1.5. He knew the sort of code that would create it, but...to keep it updated, and certain parts only visible to certain people. Given that the opening hours and his lectures were only visible to him, and that they addressed him with one of the virtual signs ...more difficult than it looked...

There was also the popup for the coffee shop-it was amazing how many of these were used for basic stuff, or advertising...of course, the campus, being a place of learning, did ban overt non-campus related e-verts, though around student union elections, you'd have to almost wade through popups and stuff. Harmless stuff, but annoying.

 

Yeah. Definitely coffee time. He was still a little tired from the sex, and he felt like a treat anyway...

[SqueezeBabe]

He gave another sigh, mainly to himself as he made his way past the students milling in the hallways. The faculty room seemed like such a hike from the lecture hall, and despite his age, he'd never quite gotten used to the crush of people. He'd rather be home working on his latest software development. He sighed yet again, he only accepted the job as a lecturer because the media were getting too close to his "alternative" life and needed some semblance of banality and normality, a kind of "hey look, I'm just an ordinary university lecturer! I wasn't a hacker for the CIA when I was 18 and I sure as shit don't write military grade software as a hobby!" They'd come up with the name "Phantom" after the old style comic about "the ghost who walks" - no one had ever seen him, not even the people who he supposedly worked for... there was speculation, and in that speculation a younger photo of him without his glasses had appeared, his only public appearance for winning the CIA's hacker competition.

 

The door to the faculty room opened with a thud, startling him from his introspection. "Vinnie baby!" He cringed, "What do you want Gerald?" A boyish grin, twinkling blue eyes and a mop of blonde curls made Gerald look like a cherub, except he was so good looking it was nearly painful to look at him. Those beautiful full lips curled into a pout that nearly made his heart stop in his chest. "The faculty are going out for a "goukon" and you ARE coming this time." Vincents brows creased together, "A goukon? Isn't that the Japanese word for a drinking party? Does this mean that the Languages faculty are going to be there too?" The question was nearly rhetorical, of course the language faculty was going to be there, Gerald would never have come up with the word "goukon" on his own. He sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, the girls were still after Gerald, despite the man not having an obvious preference for -anything-, and if he went they'd all be paying attention and fawning over the handsome one... and not him... which meant that he might actually be able to get some "work" done whilst he was there...

 

"Sure, I'll come" he said with a faint smile. Gerald stopped short, a suspicious look on his face, "I thought you would need more convincing than that... you sweet on someone in Languages?" Vincent rolled his eyes, "nothing like that. I feel like a drink tonight, and it's depressing drinking on your own." Gerald gave him another heart stopping smile and ushered him into the faculty room, an arm casually draped over his shoulders, "Don't worry, it will be fun!" Vincent sighed yet again. He was sure that it would be...

[Lady.Taser]

Maxamillion leaned back and looked up at the man in front of him. One cigarette had barely hit the ground before another was lit. With out saying anything he pursed his lips and contemplated what he had been told. One piece of tech per lesson? That could be expensive, the guy looked like he knew his tech and exactly who he was dealing with. That probably meant he was going to get everything he could from Maxamillion, which meant he needed to do the same in return.

 

He stood up and found himself quite close to the man, he turned away and headed towards the library pausing after a few moments and turning back to his tutor. "One piece of new tech delivered at the beginning of each lesson. In addition to the normal lesson I want you tell me the uses and applications of the tech you have requested. Oh and only Tech that will be used for legal purposes will be given to you." He needed to learn more than what the class was teaching, but he couldn't go to the more advanced classes until he had completed this one. "Oh also I need to learn it as quickly as possible.." Pausing he muttered quietly, "That old man isn't sending me anywhere if i can help it.." Clearing his throat he spoke normally again ".. So if possible i need at least a whole afternoon, if not a whole day a week for the tutoring. If you are okay with this you can print out your service contract if you want, but i don't really feel its needed. Also If you could maybe tell me your name so I know what to call you It would be useful." Maxamillion smiled at the man, He may have been spoiled and useless with technology, but he did have some business sense kicked into him by his father and he knew he at least needed to be pleasent when making a contract, even if it was a fake smile. He just didn't have much luck with written communication and would usually have someone read over the messages he was sending to business clients and colleagues so that he didn't sound so arrogant in them...

[ravenwyck]

Taking a seat on the fountain next to Max, Rhys leaned back on his hands and stared up at the sky. Through his headset, the clouds took on whimsical shapes and as he concentrated on each one it burst into nothingness before reforming again in its original shape. A whole afternoon? A whole day?!? Was Max joking? He'd planned to give the man a few hours at most. And it was ridiculous to try to mandate what Rhys used his equipment for once it was his. But this was just the negotiation phase. Rhys had conducted many negotiations. He was rarely disappointed with the deals he arranged. And while it seemed Max was no stranger to them either, he had apparently forgotten one of the most important rules. Always start from a position of strength. It appeared Max 'needed' this, and that was the leverage Rhys needed. He'd never tutored anyone before, but Max didn't need to know his own weakness until at least after the bargaining was done. Preferably, the man would never find out. If he could explain how to use decryption software to gangsters, tutoring Max on the basics should be a simple enough matter. Thorpe didn't appear stupid, just arrogant and ignorant.

 

After a few moments, Rhys pushed off his hands and turned to face the man beside him with a grin. "I'm Rhys O'Donovan. I'm an independent software programmer. I thought that since you sent me a message you at least knew who I was. But it appears I was chosen at random."

 

Rhys leaned back again, puffing lazily at his cigarette. "I suppose its good to know that I at least look like I know what I'm doing." His fingers twitched slightly in the air as he fingered through his schedule organizer. "The amount of time you are asking for changes things. I can offer ten hours, once a week. But that is time away from my other work and more than I had been looking to invest, so the price changes.It'll be $5,000 at the beginning of each lesson." He'd done a quick search on the way to the library. He'd been surprised by Thorpe's willingness to hand over so much expensive tech. And he'd wondered how much someone like Max would reasonably expect to pay for such services. After considering the figures, Rhys wondered if maybe tutoring wouldn't be such a bad gig. At $500 an hour, he'd actually set his rates quite reasonably. He intended to make up for that though.

 

"In addition, while I wont require new tech at every lesson, there are still a few things I will require. Nothing too extravagant, just a few upgrades I've been looking to pick up. The first is an advanced AR headset. It makes even my current headset look invasive and bulky." Rhys motioned to the lightweight and low profile headset he wore wrapped around one ear and and spanning across his eyes. "It was designed to work wirelessly with an implant to allow for more versatile functionality than an implant or headset alone. Right now, I'm not connected to my implant at all. It's a tremendous waste of resources. I've sent the model number to your mail so there wont be any confusion. I'd suggest you pick one up yourself, actually, it is equally brilliant as an independent headset. You don't actually need an implant. And I think you will find it agrees with your sense of fashion infinitely more than that horrible helmet the instructor is providing." Rhys grinned at the man's messed up 'messy' hair.

 

"As for the other bit, It's no more your business what I intend to do with my own equipment than it is anyone else's where that equipment came from. However, in exchange for providing the tech I require, I will instruct you as to its function and what each of its specifications means in relation to how it works and how it affects the user, as well as tips for its use, and why the product made by your father's company specifically is better than comparable products from other companies.This is the only compromise I am willing to make and my final offer. Given the 'situation' I believe it to be a generous offer that should more than meet your needs, but you are welcome to find another tutor if you disagree. We can start as soon as tomorrow if you are prepared to provide both the money and the headset then." Rhys tossed his latest cigarette on the ground without lighting another and turned his full attention to Max. "If we have a deal, there is only one thing left to decide. My place or yours?"

[Tama]

The scent of coffee reached him far before the automatic doors of the café. Probably pumped from somewhere in the faux wooden structure. Too strong by half, so over the top that it was almost ridiculous, a parody of how coffee should smell. He sighed. He could still remember the smell of the stuff his mother used to make. "Gourmet shit", to paraphrase that old film. Packets largely in French, the old, *gasp* hand powered grinder, before it was out of the reach, cost and rarity-wise, of most people. Now it was synthetic, artificial.

Fake.

He took a step to the door, and they slid open. Some of these places, a couple of themed club, had put the whole Star Trek noise in with the sliding doors. He'd marathoned the original series, the good movies, and the better bits of Enterprise for a customer very into that. Heck, he knew that he had the Spock costume somewhere in his inventory. It was surprising to see that, even in the mid 21st century, people were still into that most hopeful of science fiction series, even as the future had rotted on the branch. He took a step inside.

A menu popped up.

Coffee (followed by mocha, espresso, etc)

Tea (followed by a drop down menu)

Hot chocolate

Various soft drinks.

Iced coffee

Milkshakes

 

He sighed, and flicked his finger down, ordering a chocolate milkshake. Better than most of the options on the menu, at least. Automatically, somewhere in the bar, the order would pop up on a screen, and would begin its preparation. There were...maybe two, three staff members, making sure the machines worked properly...

He flopped down at the end of the bar, and realised, part way through his transaction, he'd recieved an email.

He opened his emails, checked it. A client confirming her appointment. Right. Time to go research...

 

--

 

He wandered out of the café, making his way to the library. Into the Sengoku period. No particular focus, but she'd mentioned that she was a fan of the Warriors series. So, that narrowed it down to Masamune, Yukimura, possibly Mitsunari. The pretty boys. He finished his drink, smiling softly. He emailed her back: Any Preferences?

He double-checked his bank balances. More than enough for the costume, and she'd pay him back. He briefly checked through the catalogues. Some labels did entire boutiques full of reproduced video game character costumes, much as websites. He found it easily, saved the links, and entered the library, a great glass building. More pop-ups.

Mostly helpful ones, which was good. Directory, opening hours, study groups. He flicked through the directory. Sengoku books, along with the rest of Japanese history, was largely on the fifth floor. He could have easily called up a digital copy of some of the books, but others had never been digitised. And there was something...rather satisfying about researching by hand.

 

--

 

He found the two books he wanted, a lengthy tome on the period, with detailed biographies of most of the key players, and another focusing upon the key generals, a quick flick of the index telling him all three men were detailed.

Excellent.

He took the lift back to the entrance, and, checking his email, smiled

Take your pick. Just be...fun.

He stepped outside, noting that two names popped up in his visor as being nearby. He honestly didn't talk much to his class, but he had time to kill, and that Rhys appeared to be in a couple of his classes. Seemed a clever guy.

He wandered over, hand raised in greeting.

"Hey. Sorry, I...eh, I've been meaning to socialise more...and you seemed...approachable. I'm Damien."

[SqueezeBabe]

He had just put everything down on his desk when he felt the vibration of his phone. Most people these days preferred to receive their calls via their headsets or glasses. He'd tried it, but for some reason it just didn't work for him. He preferred the tactile response an actual phone gave him. Sure he used his headset and glasses for everything else (when he could remember to) but for actual phone calls and text messages, he preferred the real thing. However, his phone, much like his headset, was not alll it appeared to be. The software he'd written and installed on it meant that it was as untraceable as the Presidents phone, more so even, considering he wrote the software for that too. He retrieved the phone from his pocket and checked the screen.

 

The message icon flashed a few times before he rested his thumb over it, the screen of the phone reading the intricate print before unlocking. His biometric scanner didn't just read the print, but also his body temperature and blood pressure, checking it back off against the readings he kept stored on his server. If they didn't match, then his phone wouldn't activate. The message icon flashed again as his phone unlocked itself and the message appeared on screen.

 

meet me outside the old computer labs past the library fountain

 

Vince frowned. The library fountain was secure enough; hardly anyone went there anymore, but the old computer labs would be even more deserted. The building was slated for demolition in the coming months. It wasn't like the stuff was illegal, so why the additional secrecy? They were computer chips yes, extremely detailed and capable of powering the whole university, it wasn't like they were weapons grade plutonium. Though, they could be, he thought with a rueful smile. They were difficult to obtain, but he'd done someone high up a favour, and payment was due. "Just stepping out for a bit, maybe grab something to eat" he said absently, to whomever was listening, as he headed back out into the halls of the university and towards the old computer labs.

[Lady.Taser]

Maxamillion scowled as the dark haired boy walked up to them. He wasn't in the mood to be interupted, nor to interact with these people without a good reason. Completely ignoring the boy he turned to face Rhys fully a horrible frown now covering his face. "Since we have been interupted I'll end this quickly today. We can sort out details next time and we will go with my place. I can at least send mails and will send you my address and the times I am free once I have a chance to see my schedule." Pausing and biting his lip he ran a finger through his hair trying to smooth out the mess.

 

"As long as it's within the times specified you can just show up, i'll security and staff know so they can let you in.... Thanks for the information about he headset." He gave a small nod to Rhys before walking away towards the Library, coldly brushing past the boy. Once inside he went straight to the reception desk and got two large volumes from his bag and placing them down on the desk. The clerk behind the desk was all smiles and business. She knew exactly who he was and exactly how much he donated to keep this library open when quite a few others were being forced to close.

 

It was only about 10 minutes later that he left the library, a new book in his hand and the scowl still on his face. To avoid going near the fountain and the source of his displeasure he turned the left as soon as he was out of the door. Going away from both the main campus and the fountain he headed into the small wooded section of the campus knowing that he would find a way out. He blindly walked through the woods in what he thought was a straight line. When he came accross a disused building he paused and tried to calm his breathing. He was a little lost, but it was better than going back past the brat from earlier. With a sigh he looked around and not finding anything useful he started to head off again, walking around the building first to see if he could spot the quickest way out of the forest.

[ravenwyck]

Rhys listened patiently as Max concluded their business. He was agreeable to the conditions and indicated so before turning his attention back to the man who had just intruded upon their conversation. He regretted the decision to leave himself visible to the school’s network and made a note to show Maxamillion how how to hide himself, as well. If he was going to teach the man he might as well make sure he knew how to do things that were actually useful. Dropping the butt of his cigarette at the interlopers feet, he lit another as he examined the man from head to toe.

 

Rhys usually made a point of being able to match names and faces in each of his classes. In this case he recognized the man as sharing several classes with him, but he realized he could never be bothered to remember his name. It was hard to explain, but there was something about this particular classmate that reminded him of the countless whores he had met in his life. He never bothered to remember their names either. There was little point in it. They were extras, window dressing, tools, without substance or importance. You could see in them that they understood on some level that it was all they would ever be even if they denied the truth as it surrounded them. He wondered what it was he saw in the man that always reminded him of such unpleasant thoughts but shrugged away the thoughts before speaking.

 

“Hello Damien. I’m Rhys. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The lie slid easily from his tongue around puffs of smoke. It was rarely a pleasure to meet anyone and it remained to be seen whether it would be a pleasure knowing him. But he was in a rare and open mood after his business with Max and he didn’t immediately dismiss him. “I’ve seen you around. We have some of the same classes, if I’m not mistaken.” He looked in the direction of the library, where Max had gone, before turning his attention back to the man before him. “Since you seem to have chased away my business prospects for the day, why don’t you buy me a drink to make up for it. I know an excellent Japanese style bar that does the best sushi. It’s not too far from here. If you’re up for it, we could even walk.”

 

Much later Rhys had a meeting with his most recent client, but the program he had created was more than ready and he could use the distraction from fiddling with the already finished product. Sake and a little companionship wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the evening. He’d been a bit reclusive since he’d started this project. But at this point, even Phantom would be hard pressed to detect his program once it was installed on the slot machines for which it had been designed. He always thought of Phantom with a mixture of admiration and indifference. Phantom was his only real equal in the digital world. No one was a better hacker than himself, but privately Rhys could admit that the man was possibly the better programmer. Phantom’s problem was his ego. Like himself, Phantom took his privacy seriously.. Except for one grainy photo, Rhys hadn’t been able to dig up any information about his real identity. But unlike Rhys, Phantom practically posted flyers about his existence in general. Rhys couldn’t help but imagine the man as a socially awkward person living vicariously off the acclaim of his alternate personality. He didn’t begrudge him. It had very little effect on his own business. Rhys dealt in a small and elite market. He wasn’t as high profile as Phantom, but that was exactly why his clients came to him with their business. Dismissing such thoughts from his head, Rhys turned his attention back to Damien as he waited for his response with his most approachable smile.

[Tama]

There had been something...furtive about how suddenly the other boy had disappeared, but...somehow he was glad it hadn't been Rhys. He briefly checked the other young man's profile as his back retreated.

Maxamillion

What sort of name was that? Whoever he was the son of, they were old money. Long, elegant names that belied just how stuck in the past they were; well, when you had that much money, you could make society bend back to the old ways. Not that many did-after all, a good few of the particularly rich families, the type that owned half the country, and (most likely) owned half of Web 3.0 that now covered the world as well. The remedial made sense, then. Rich spoiled brat forced by increasingly irritated parents into at least learning about the thing they'd most likely poured millions of dollars into.

Something fishy. Something definitely not his business. He flicked his wrist, closing the popup.

 

Back to Rhys. He knew little about the other man. Same year, few of the same classes. Intelligent, a little more popular. The word "star" came up a few times, usually because his notes were comprehensive, informative, and well illustrated with VideoWeb and Pixil links. Smoker, coffee drinker. Typical student. Probably kept odd hours.

 

He nodded in answer to his first question, and blushed softly to the second. It had been ages since anyone who didn't live in his flat had actually asked him if they wanted to go for food, and in those cases, it was usually burgers. Nothing wrong with burgers, and somehow, it was quite reassuring to see that in this brave new world, McDonalds and Burger King were still doing roaring trade, albeit with popups at the door, and an increasingly mechanised production line. But the food was still the same. Still greasy, still fattening, still made of questionable percentages of cow.

 

"Sushi would be nice. And sure, I'll buy you a drink...I'm sorry if you...weren't finished with that guy...it's just...lecturers said I should be more sociable...um...I...Sorry!"

 

This was a lie, of course. Online, Damien was the life and soul of the party, with a address book so large he'd had to back it up onto the cloud, carrying around a smaller, key-notes edition of the thing. Constant contacts from across the world. Clients, friends, heck, even people from his course, not that they realised. He never used his real name. A mask. That's what it was. A confident face, a few tiny tweaks from his own, but enough that unless you knew Damien well in real life, you'd never recognise the brash young man who half-ruled a dozen or so chatrooms.

 

Names, identities had become...clouded. Whilst it was advised to use your real name, as Google and Facebook had implemented a couple of decades ago, it wasn't enforced. Plus, you could always change it. For a cost, of course, but Damien found the tiny charge, a few dozen credits, almost laughable. For a few hundred, you could totally overhaul your profile, change every little detail. Of course, unless you were very clever, or very stupid, the base details, the ones you needed to open bank accounts, pay tax and receive student loans and the like, the things that represented you in the real world of flesh and blood, remained the same

 

And because the Web 3.0 account was all but a universal login, you could, at least on the surface, be anyone, anywhere on the web. There were kids who pretty much used their accounts to roleplay their favourite tv characters, Japanese NEETs that lived entire fantasy lives online, sustaining their incomes by playing the many MMOs that dotted the terrain of the planet. Heck, Shibuya, Ikebukuro, many ward of Tokyo were increasingly the site of huge roleplaying games, even reaching into shops and the like, populated by hundreds of copies of various famous anime characters in overlay form.

Of course, there was the more mundane uses-changing name for marriage, divorce, etc, escaping from toxic friendships, etc. It was frowned upon. But everyone did it.

 

"Which way?"

He grinned at Rhys. "I hope you know I'm not paying for your sushi too. Or booze that's too expensive..."

[SqueezeBabe]

As he made his way through the halls towards the old computer labs, he wondered again, for what seemed like the millionth time in a few days about what it was that he was doing with his life. He didn't feel that he was cut out for the secrecy and the paranoia that went with the hacking-side of thing. Truth be told, he hadn't actually one that much hacking since his younger years, preferring to actually write software that may or may not be used for hacking, but wasn't actually hacking itself. Apart from the fact that it was illegal, and if caught the punishments for cyber crimes far often outweighed the real life version of the same crime, he just didn't feel the need for it. The CIA competition that he'd won all those years ago and already been surpassed by other younger hopefuls, there was word in certain circles that someone had beaten him, younger than him, hacked the competition, and wasn't even there to do it. A smile twitched around his lips. As far as he was concerned, that was a far more notable achievement than his own, and perhaps, as an idle thought, he wouldn't mind meeting the man that had beat his record.

 

The library fountain came into view and he was slightly surprised to discover that there were students milling around it. One of them walking off as if in a huff, and the other two looking like they were just casually talking. As he passed them, he recognised that they were all from his earlier class; perhaps they shared more than the one class... a slight twinge of envy, old and tired rose up from the depths of his mind, reminding him that when he'd gone to university, he was too much of a recluse to bother making any real friends and those that did approach him only did so because they wanted to pay him to do their assignments for them. He'd made a lot of money like that, but in the end, he still graduated without having made any real friends, but reminded himself (in the effort to be less negative; long ago advice from a therapist he'd seen years ago) that those friends had come later.

 

"I know an excellent Japanese style bar that does the best sushi"

 

The overheard comment reminded him of the Goukon later that evening. "See!" he told himself, "I am making an effort to be more sociable!" but the voice inside his head sounded doubtful even to him.

 

He left the students behind as the old computer labs came into view, a man leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for him. He quickened his pace to shorten the distance, the man pushing himself off the wall to meet him half way. They shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and then went their separate ways, Vince putting his hand into his pocket to secrete the small pouch that had been given to him as they had shaken hands. He understood the reasons behind the secrecy, but really didn't want to believe those reasons despite actually knowing better. He knew what capabilities spying software had, after all, he'd written most of it.

 

With the microchips safely tucked away, he headed back to the faculty room. Those microchips would power a special custom built computer, capable of running an extraordinary amount of information... information that he needed to write his next round of government software, neither of which technically existed.

[Lady.Taser]

It had been about half an hour now that he had been wandering around and he was still circling the same building. He couldn't even tell if he was back where he had started on not. It made sense that he had already gone past the same point of the building multiple times. At one point he even thought that he'd heard voices, which caused him to double back, but even as he got to the point on the building where the voices were loudest he couldn't see anyone. Unless they were inside the decrepit building or in the woods he had to decide they were ghosts. Ghosts...Talking about the weather.... and everyday things. Ever so slightly paranoid he yelled out at the top of his lungs. "Where in the Hell am I? This is a Fucking campus now the bloody Amazon forest!" With a shudder he quickly moved on, wandering for a bit longer before finally scanning the tree line as he stood with his back to the building. It failed to give him any clues as to what was the best way to go to get out and so he picked a direction and began to walk in it hoping that he would eventually find his way out, after all he could surely walk in a straight line right?

 

He feet felt like lead and he had started to drag them along as it appeared the light was failing. Lifting his head up he saw that it was still perfectly light outside, but his hair was falling in his eyes and he was in a shady part of the trees right now. A quick glance at the watch in his wrist showed it had only been about 5 minutes since he left sight of the building. With a large groan, which echoed around him he looked around dejectedly and almost jumped in excitement when he saw a figure out 3 meters away. Currently they appeared to be walking away from him and not really paying attention so Maxamillion jogged to catch up to then, slowing down when he was closer.

 

Taking a moment to compose himself he tried to smooth back his hair once more, though there was little he could do about the mess with so little time. Straightening out his coat and carrying his books with what appeared to be more ease he walked at a speed that matched that of the figure calling out to the man casually. "Good Afternoon, It is strange to see people in the woods, It is nice to see someone else out here though." Small bits of desperation slipped through in his voice as he spoke, however now that he had found someone who looked as though they knew where they were he was less panicked. Once he had finished teaching he took a proper look at the man from earlier, mainly noting the man's red hair. Casually he though how similar that hair was and was wondering exactly where he had seen it before.

[ravenwyck]

As he led the way along the wooded trails of the school, Rhys sighed to himself. He wondered what he'd done to suddenly start attracting 'strays.' So far they both seemed useless and annoying, but at least Maxamillion wasn't cheap, as well. He wasn't even sure what had made him agree. He rarely socialized with anyone outside of business. Perhaps he was lonely. Regardless, if the rest of the day progressed at the current rate, he would really have to start planning his whims better.

 

The walk was relaxing, if the company was not. Rhys made small talk with the clumsy man but his topic stayed on school and the studies related specifically to his courses. In the background, Rhys' snooper programs quietly did their work. He hadn't bothered to take an interest in his classmates before. But if they were going to start taking an interest in him, then it was past time for him to do so. He knew, probably better than most, how different people could be when not constrained by reality. Such a low level hack was as easy as breathing and didn't even require he interface with 'what his name' at all. It didn't distract him from their stroll.

 

Rhys sighed internally again. Pulling up the data he'd already recovered, he scanned through the information during a lull in the conversation. Damien. He resolved to remember that this time. From a look at his transaction history it seemed he was some sort of entrepreneur. Nothing like himself, the amounts were too small. But there were plenty of ways to make a bit of change on the web. Rhys was mildly interested in what exactly Damien did to earn his money, but he was distracted from further probing as they exited the heavier bit of woods unto the path that fed them out on a slightly crowded street.

 

Pausing on the sidewalk Rhys lit yet another cigarette before he turned his attention on Damien fully. "We're almost there now. The bar is just around the corner of the next block. It's not exactly the classiest joint in town, but it doesn't have a 'value menu' either. If you are concerned with that whole 'too expensive' thing, I'll understand if you want to skip the sushi. I need to eat regardless." With a shrug Rhys turned and started walking in the direction of the restaurant not waiting to see if Damien would follow. The walk had been more pleasant than he'd expected, but he still hadn't figured out what the man's angle was. It wasn't as if it had been Rhys who'd approached him. Perhaps he'd feel more amiable with food in his stomach or perhaps Damien would go find a McDonalds.' Either way, now that he'd started the endeavor, Rhys found he was practically starving.