Wednesday, December 31, 2003 — New Year’s Eve

Eh. My half-cold gave me a good swift kick before leaving, so yesterday I was completely unable to do much of anything. Not even a journal entry.

I think I was subconsciously saving my energy for that evening, and the next step of the familial crisis. As seems to be common with such things, it didn’t go quite as expected. I think we resolved the issue, but I’m not sure. We’ll (hopefully) get confirmation today.

I went to a birthday party afterwards, for a friend of mine I met through the Redemption Club. He has four children, all boys; the oldest is 11. And they’re all technologically inclined. Their basement is a tech holding pen.

It was fun, though I ended up spending more time with the kids than I did with the adults. This was partly due to timing; when I got there, the only people there were kids and adults from the other side of the family who didn’t speak English very well, so I followed the kids into the basement for some Godzilla action. And once you’ve settled into one group in a party, it’s awfully hard to uproot yourself and insert yourself into another group. Especially when you know everyone in your group.

But I had a good time anyway. I guess I’m perverse like that.

Here’s the next bit of the VR story. It should kick into high gear with next week’s entry.

“What’s this file you want?” Thomas asked.

The avatar visibly relaxed — prematurely, to Thomas’ mind — and replied, “It’s a program I wrote; a simulation. It’s very important to me. I worked on it for years. But when I went in to work on it a few days ago, it was gone from my cube.”

“And you know who took it?”

“Not exactly. But I know it must’ve been one of my co-workers.”

Thomas shook his head. “You need a hacker, not a detective. It may not even be in the system by now.”

“No!” The avatar began agitated gesticulating. “I know it’s there. I heard somebody bragging about working on a new simulation, but I’m not sure who it was.”

Thomas didn’t like it. This didn’t sound right. And breaking into a corporate system meant risking jail time, which was very bad for business. Still. Ten thousand dollars.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

Please note, dear reader, that I have never suggested that Thomas wasn’t greedy.

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