“I, um, am pretty simple in my gaming,” Kiri said. “Monitor, keyboard, mouse.”
“Please,” Jenni said, gesturing to the gloves and visors. She donned some red ones with gold “embroidery” of fiber optic filaments or something. Kiri narrowed her eyes, then blinked. It looked like the pattern might be almost a mathematical algorithm—or, in a different game, a spell—and the design lit up.
“I thought we were going to have another interview?” Kiri said weakly, looking at Lathyr.
“That’s so stuffy,” Jenni said.
It was stuffy.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jenni.
Kiri grimaced. “The gloves and visor might interfere with my play.” She swallowed. “I really don’t want to screw this up.” It meant too much to her.
Lathyr set the visor down and stripped off the gloves. He held out both hands. “I am a good judge of energy. I am sure I can reassure you that you belong here. Please?”
Kiri stared, cut her eyes to Jenni, questioning this new age stuff. The woman looked bland, so Kiri shrugged and put her hands in his. Yes, tingles, for sure. And the texture of his palms and his fingers was so smooth, but there was strength in those hands. Nice.
“Pregame visualization exercise,” Jenni said. “Close your eyes and visualize—ah—the Fairy Dome in Fairies and Dragons.”
Kiri shot her a glance. “You take the game very seriously.”
“Well, of course. It’s my livelihood. An attitude I expect from you.”
Kiri closed her eyes, recalled the Fairy Dome, tried to bring it into focus. She’d always sucked at visualization except right before and right after she slept.
She became all too aware of Lathyr, his hands, the closeness of his body to hers, as if energy cycled between them. Scents came to her nose, a hot and spicy smell, a fresh odor reminding her of the ocean—Lathyr’s aftershave? Eyes shut, she felt the atmosphere in the room...fancifully enough, she thought that Jenni’s and Lathyr’s energy clashed, did not mix well. Kiri realized her breathing matched Lathyr’s, slow and deep. Her ears strained...trying to hear the hum of the computers...no, she was too used to her barely up-to-date equipment at work. Not the tiniest buzz of fans, but she was right, the room was warm and getting warmer. In fact, the tingles within her seemed to also press against her skin, as if she were immersed in fizzy water. Fun, energizing. She stifled a giggle.
Lathyr released her hands and stepped back. Her eyelids flew open and she smiled at him, only to see he’d moved and was leaning over Jenni, speaking quietly. He glanced up at her, nodded, then said, “You will do well.”
When he returned to talking to Jenni, all Kiri’s doubts swarmed back, despite his assurance. Jenni had indicated that it was Lathyr who had decided—or would decide—whether Kiri was a good fit, hadn’t she? She wished they’d done this earlier and in a conference room or something, not where she was supposed to work.
Stiffly, Kiri walked over to the long desk, noted that the edge wasn’t squared off, but rounded, lovely. Scanning the gloves—twelve pairs in various sizes and colors—she went with impulse and chose a pair of pretty pale green ones that looked to be her size. She pulled them on—they felt like the finest chamois, and again her hands tingled. The metallic silver embroidery glittered, nearly seemed to spark. Wow. She chose a visor she thought would fit, but didn’t put it on. And she sat in the chair, turned on the monitor.
A rainbow-colored word appeared in flowing pastel script. Transformation! Frowning, tugging on the wrists of her gloves, she looked over at Lathyr and Jenni, who watched her.
“Yes?” asked Jenni. Kiri thought the woman hid a smile. Maybe that should relieve her, but it didn’t much.
“I’ve heard there are some biofeedback games out there,” Kiri said. She flexed her fingers; the gloves clung, almost massaged her hands. Felt good, but she’d definitely miss a keyboard. Obviously, she wasn’t as flexible as she’d thought. Not a good thing to consider when she was on the job interview of her life. Not when she wanted to be on the cutting edge of the gaming world.
“Yes,” Jenni said. “I’ve heard of those games, too, even tried them. But, I promise you, the gloves are not recording any information. They are for virtual reality purposes only.”
“I don’t see the connectivity to the computer system.”
“Optical,” Jenni said promptly.
Lathyr walked toward her and put his gloves on again—they weren’t the same texture, more like thin silk. Jenni’s were velvet. He said, “I assure you, Ms. Palger, that you are a prime candidate for this job.”
All the repetition brought relief. “I do want the job.”
Jenni’s brows rose. “Let’s go then.” She waved and the other monitors blinked on, along with the cheerful cheep of keyboards, game pads and mice coming online.
Kiri stared. “Wow, your gloves really work.”
“Like magic.” Jenni laughed. “Ready?”
Kiri put her visor on, nothing odd happened. What had she expected, tentacles slipping into her brain? No, don’t think that.
“Is everything...okay?” asked Lathyr.
“Fine,” Kiri said, though she felt a little stupid with the gloves and visor on. She didn’t think most casual gamers would want to wear the accessories unless the immersive factor was really amazing. But she sure wouldn’t say that yet. Not when she was at the starting post, ready to surge forward and hit the game running.
No. That might not work with this game. Not all were fast; some that mimicked real life were deadly slow in her opinion. An alternative to real life, just trying to make it better with a choice of mate and children...no, that reminded her of Shannon, and Kiri’s thoughts were too scattered!
She had to focus, to be primed.
“Ready?” Lathyr asked.
“Ready.”
Light engulfed her vision. Transformation! Brought to you by Eight Corp! The words vanished in an explosion of yellow and Kiri dropped into the game.
She stood atop a low hill, breathing in summer air and looking down on a carpet of many-colored wildflowers. She could almost believe wind lifted her hair from her neck. She touched her hair, held it before her face. Looked exactly like her own hair. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and her hands appeared to be her own, too, with the glittery tint she’d put on her nails.
She was there. No visor narrowed her vision.
“Wow.” She reached out for the water bottle on the counter beside her in real life. Nothing happened but her arm slicing thin air. “Wow,” she repeated. “This really is full immersion.”
“This is the opening sequence,” Lathyr said. He stood beside her, dressed as he had been in real life—European-cut suit, pale blue shirt, no tie.
He swept an arm around in an expansive gesture, and turned in place. Kiri did, too.
“As you can see, there are four realms in Transformation.” His smile crinkled his eyes and Kiri thought it was the first carefree one she’d seen from him. Was he easier in a game setup, too? “Since many things in the game are complex, such as the virtual reality...hardware...” Now he waved a hand and Kiri thought she saw the outline of a sparkling glove. “We are keeping the magic portion of the game fairly simple. Each realm corresponds to an ancient element—water, air, earth, fire.”
“Ah.” From the hill, the realms were vivid quarters of a round pie and looked different and colorful. Excitement and just plain fun began to seep into her—why had she balked, this looked so kewl? She flexed her fingers and tiny sparkles rose from her hands in spirals. Oh, yes, cool! She did a little rock in place, a little butt shimmy, and tried another wave. Her mouth dropped open as small butterflies rose from her fingertips. Her laugh got stuck in her throat and came out a low chuckle. “I love these gloves!”
“Good to hear,” Jenni’s smug voice came, vibrating through the band of Kiri’s visor over her ears.
“Examine the realms,” Lathyr said. “This is the only time you will be on this hill and have this panoramic view. Your time here—our time here—is limited.”
That thunked Kiri’s heels back down to the ground. Had she actually been dancing? Yeah. And this wasn’t just a new game to love and hate and be exasperated with and prize and master. This was a realm she’d help create and refine. Write for the enjoyment and entertainment of others. This was the job, the career she wanted.
The realms showed bright colors of cartoonish intensity—one was mostly green. Green, green hills, an equally verdant ridge with a wooden door in it. Towering mountains looking a lot like the front range of the Colorado Rockies rose behind the lush hills. “Earth Realm,” Kiri gestured and more butterflies streamed from her fingers down the hill toward the Earth Realm.
“Each realm has a major race and a minor race—the Earth Realm has dwarves and brownies.” A note in Lathyr’s voice had her turning her head and she caught him eyeing her—her figure? her stature?—before a bland expression covered his face.
Green and brown earth was in front of her on the left when she’d arrived. To her right appeared a blue-and-green realm with a spring becoming stream, widening to a river, flowing to lake and beach and ocean. Easy to figure that out, “Water Realm?”
“Yes. Mers—mermen and merfems—are the major race who usually live in the ocean. Naiads and naiaders of ponds and lakes and streams are the minor folk. Most Waterfolk are the size of humans.”
