Marisa nodded. “This sort of crowd, they probably have it every day.”
Sahara, Jun, and Anja joined them, their tiny plates brimming with codfish gills and pickled mushrooms and crown daisies and all kinds of exotic delicacies. Jun sent a group message: Sorry that took so long. The building had already registered my ID when Jin came in, but hadn’t checked her out when she turned it off. They made me wait at the elevators while they tried to figure out how I got out of the building; I told them I’d gone back out for tampons.
And they believed you? sent Sahara.
Eventually.
Anja smiled, the only outward sign that any conversation was taking place. This is the best. We should break into megacorp galas more often.
Marisa shot a quick glance at Alain, wondering how long it would take his crippled djinni connection to download all the messages. She turned back to her food, took a bite of the plum—it was far more tart than she’d been expecting—and sent a private message to [empty].
You’re alone?
The building doesn’t even know I’m here, Jin answered. This place is spooky in the dark. We’re lucky no one’s working late, though.
Chaewon might have ordered everyone out of the upper floors for the party, sent Marisa. Machinzote. Where are you?
Seventy-five, sent Jin. Nice round number. The plaque on the door said I’m in accounting, so any of these computers should work.
Find one with two cables, sent Marisa. One’s always power, but a second one will mean it’s wired in to the airgapped network.
Already on it, sent Jin.
“I don’t see anyone from MotherBunny,” said Sahara.
“Maybe Chaewon didn’t invite them,” said Anja. Marisa let them talk, tuning them out and sending a message to Alain.
What should I be looking for?
It seemed to take ages for him to receive her message and reply: It has to be something Johara can use against them—sales data is good, and international sales data is the best. She waited, and several long seconds later another message trickled through: You’ll have to cross-reference their sales records with usage data to see what’s actionable and what’s not.
Marisa chuckled, and sent a short reply: You make corporate espionage sound so boring. She waited, and when Alain laughed she knew he’d seen the message.
“It is boring,” he said out loud. “But it works.”
I’m in, sent Jin. Took me a bit to find a workstation with an extra cable slot, but I’m connected and your buffer overflow worked perfectly. I have full access.
Perfecto, sent Marisa. Will the cable reach far enough for you to hide under the desk?
I’ll try, sent Jin. Marisa waited while she repositioned herself. Yeah, it reaches. I have to crane my neck a little, though—these base-of-the-skull data ports are great for VR gaming, but they’re in a terrible place for covert cyber-infiltrations.
You should file a complaint on their website, sent Marisa, smiling at the absurdity of it. You’re doing great, though. Ready to link up?
Here it comes, sent Jin, and a moment later Marisa got a connection request from a network labeled Guest017. Jin was essentially using her own head as a router, running a private network with only two users: Marisa, and a Wi-Fi bridge into the airgapped Sigan network. The network connection initialized, and then Marisa was in—everything she’d been looking for, right at her fingertips. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face.
“Merde!” said Alain. Marisa didn’t even have time to look up before he put one arm around her shoulders and used his other arm to turn her chin. His face was almost touching hers, like he was about to kiss her, but instead he whispered softly, his lips practically brushing her cheek. “He’s here.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Park,” Alain whispered.
FIFTEEN
Marisa felt herself go cold, all the blood draining from her extremities. “I thought Park was dead.”
“Or at least too injured to show up tonight,” whispered Alain. “Apparently he’s better armored than we thought.”
“You’re sure it’s him?”
“I have a facial recognition app,” said Alain, “just in case anybody who knows me shows up. I’ve got it running in the background, and my djinni just spotted him.”
“Diablos,” muttered Marisa. She leaned into him now, putting her arms around him. Mr. Park couldn’t see their faces if they pressed them together.
“Hey, guys, get a room,” said Anja.
Marisa sent a group message. The security guy who chased us the other day is here.
Get out of there, sent Bao.
He hasn’t seen us yet, sent Marisa. He would have come for us already if he knew we were here.
Should I abort? asked Jin.
Yes, sent Bao.
No, sent Sahara. Tell me what he looks like.
Look for a tall Korean guy with a metal faceplate, sent Marisa.
Got him, sent Anja. Up by the front. Wow, he’s scary-looking.
Marisa and Alain broke their embrace and turned toward the back of the room, keeping their faces hidden from Park and everyone on the stage. He’s a monster, sent Marisa. We do not want him to see us.
Want me to distract him? asked Jun.
No, sent Bao.
No, Sahara agreed. We need him out of the room, and that means the best distraction will be downstairs.
On it, sent Bao. I can buzz this motorcycle right past the front doors.
It won’t be enough, sent Marisa. If we want Park to leave the party, you’ve gotta cause a bigger scene than that.
You want me to drive through the glass doors? asked Bao.
And get shot? asked Marisa.
Better me than Jin and Jun, sent Bao.
Can Renata do it? asked Sahara. That’s her whole job.
She’s not answering my calls, sent Bao.
Alain was growing more nervous. Whatever you’re planning, do it quickly.
We could try to hack their security system, sent Marisa.
Not from inside their own building, sent Sahara. We’d be way too obvious. Where are Fang and Jaya?
Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, sent Anja. I’m pinging Jaya now.
Marisa took a nervous bite of her food, trying to look nonchalant with a hired killer just a few meters away.
“What’s our exit strategy?” Alain whispered. “If we have to abort and leave early, how do we get out?”
“We didn’t really think about that,” said Marisa.
“You’re kidding.”
“How were we supposed to know Park was still alive?” asked Marisa.
“You can never know everything that might go wrong,” said Alain. “That’s why you plan an exit strategy. That’s the first rule of mission planning: don’t go in until you know how to get back out again.”
“Well, great,” said Marisa. “Now we know.”
“Come with me to the restrooms,” said Alain. “It will buy us time.”
Go, sent Sahara. We’ll think of something.
The speech hadn’t started yet, and most of the crowd was still standing, milling around and sampling the food and talking to each other. Marisa stood and, to make it look good, took Alain’s hand, dragging him toward the back of the hall, where the restrooms were tucked into a hidden alcove. She recognized a few people as she went, and smiled politely, but none of them acknowledged her.
“I feel like I’m invisible,” said Alain.
“I wish,” said Marisa.
I’m here, sent Jaya. What’s wrong? I knew this was a bad idea.
Mr. Park is here, sent Marisa. We need you to pull him downstairs.
Jaya hesitated before responding. I’ll see what I can do.
Marisa and Alain reached the alcove in the back, and Marisa shivered nervously. “Okay. Keep watch while I focus on the database.”
He nodded, and Marisa looked back at her djinni, blinking on the Guest017 network connection. It expanded to fill her v
ision, blotting out the real world completely, and she scrolled through lists of folders, looking for the ones she needed. “International Finance” looked like a good place to start, so she blinked on it, only to watch her display fill up with even more folders, organized in a system she could only barely comprehend. She knew most computer systems backward and forward, but accounting was like a completely different language.
“I need a file tree,” she muttered. Gamdog 4.1 was easy enough to navigate, if you knew what you were looking for, but just roaming around and exploring it was maddening. “How am I supposed to know where anything is?”
“Welcome,” said an amplified voice, “to the first annual Forward Motion Overworld Tournament Charity Gala!” The buzz of conversation in the main hall was replaced by loud applause. “We have a very special presentation prepared for you. Please find a seat, and give just a moment of your attention to the screens around the room.” A few seconds later the hall filled with thunderous music, and Marisa imagined they were showing some kind of Overworld gameplay video to get the crowd pumped up. She desperately wanted to be in there, watching it, but kept her attention on the filing system.
She was really starting to hate this filing system.
I can’t get in, sent Jaya. Their security’s too tight, and all the holes Marisa went through before have been patched up.
They’re starting a presentation, and want everyone to be here for it, sent Sahara. Mari won’t be able to stay in the bathroom forever—we need Park gone.
Crashing the front door is still our best plan, sent Bao. What if Jaya grabs some nulis to do it for us?
That . . . might work, sent Sahara. What’s nearby?
There’s like fifteen restaurants here, sent Bao, they’ve got to have delivery nulis.
On it, sent Jaya.
Marisa blinked around in the database some more, hoping one of the folder chains would turn up useful information. She shook her head in frustration. No wonder Alain had said it would take a few hours at least.
The music ended, and the crowd in the main hall cheered.
Are you ready yet, Jaya? sent Sahara. The intro’s done, and they’re going to start talking any second.
Working on it, sent Jaya.
Work faster! sent Sahara.
“Please put your hands together,” said the amplified voice, “for our wonderful hostess this evening: Kwon Chaewon!”
More applause, though this time it was polite instead of passionate.
Marisa found the International Finance section of the database, and blinked it open. More folders.
“Thank you,” said Chaewon. Her voice was accented, but only barely. “It’s wonderful to see so many of you here tonight. This tournament means so much to me, as I’m sure it does to all of you. Internet connectivity is a basic human necessity—it’s how we communicate, it’s how we work, it’s how most people find work—and yet there are parts of the world where this fundamental need is unavailable. Even here in Los Angeles, one of the greatest cities in the world, entire neighborhoods have no way for workers to connect to their jobs, for students to connect to their schools, for children to connect to their parents and families. We are the lucky ones. We use the internet for recreation, for hanging out, for shopping at high-end stores and websites. By participating in this tournament, you’re doing your part for those who use the internet just to survive.”
More applause. Marisa found a folder titled “Yearly Expenses.” That was only outgoing money—where were the records of money coming in?
She makes me want to choke myself, sent Anja.
Someone’s coming toward you, Marisa, sent Jun. Guy in a suit. Not Park.
Jaya . . . , sent Sahara. Jaya didn’t respond.
“We have an incredible treat for you tonight,” said Chaewon. “I remember when I was just a little girl in Seoul, watching Overworld tournaments and dreaming of one day winning the world championships—but of course that was impossible. No woman had ever won a world championship, and only a handful had ever won regionals. But then, in 2039, everything changed.”
“We have company,” Alain whispered, and half a second later Marisa heard footsteps coming toward them. She blinked away the database display and the alcove reappeared; Alain was standing close by, and she stepped toward him, taking his arm like a girl in love, hoping they could sell the story of two people hiding in the back room to make out. A Korean man in a suit stepped toward them, stopping just a meter away. His smile was professional and emotionless.
“The presentation is starting,” said the man. He gestured toward the main hall, where Chaewon was talking about Su-Yun Kho’s legacy of Overworld victories. “Please join us—we’d hate for you to miss the special guest.”
Marisa’s mind raced, trying to find some way of stalling. She slid closer to Alain, until she was practically hanging on him. “Sorry,” she purred, “we were distracted.” She flashed the man a mischievous smile, but he didn’t react.
“Please,” he said. “Ms. Kwon would like everyone present.”
Marisa took a step forward, and Alain came with her.
Do something, sent Marisa. We’re coming back in.
The man stepped behind them, herding them silently toward the main hall. They couldn’t turn back without fighting him.
Jaya! sent Sahara. Where are you?
I’m going for the door, sent Bao. If I get caught—
Got it! sent Jaya.
Marisa and Alain stepped around the corner into the hall, and Marisa looked up at Mr. Park . . .
. . . right as Mr. Park looked down at the floor.
I flew a delivery nuli right through the front door, sent Jaya. Friendly Burger. Took me forever to hack the guidance system.
The door’s completely shattered, sent Bao. Security guards are running everywhere.
Park’s reacting, sent Sahara. Not leaving, though.
Mr. Park started to look up again, and Marisa turned around to face the man behind her. “Is it true?” she asked, trying to act silly and naive. “Is Su-Yun Kho really here?”
“If you’ll take a seat, you’ll find out,” said the man, calm and impatient as ever.
Park’s leaving, sent Sahara.
“She’s my hero,” continued Marisa, stalling for time as Mr. Park walked out of the room. “I have her posters on my wall; I have her limited edition Overworld avatar; I have a dancing Su-Yun Kho emoji in my djinni display right now that lights up every time she shows up in the news—”
He’s gone, sent Anja.
“I’m so excited!” said Marisa. “We’ll go sit down now.”
“Thank you,” said the man.
Marisa and Alain made their way back to the table the Cherry Dogs were sharing with the Brazilian team, and sat down quietly as Chaewon finished her introduction.
“That was the day the world changed,” said Chaewon. Marisa and her friends had been trash-talking her for so long, Marisa had half expected some kind of hollow plastic nuli, annoying to look at and devoid of human feelings. Instead she looked approachable and friendly, with a round face and bright eyes and a straight-lipped smirk. She wore a dress that somehow looked simultaneously like overalls and an evening gown, playful and elegant at the same time. She looked genuinely nice, and Marisa wondered if she wasn’t just some spoiled rich kid after all. “That was the day,” Chaewon continued, “that Su-Yun Kho, and her team 2Seven2, won the world championship. In the eleven years since, Overworld has become a beacon for equality, a sport where anyone, regardless of gender, nationality, or any other factor, can be a winner. For that, on top of everything else, we owe her an incredible debt of gratitude. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Su-Yun Kho.”
Chaewon stepped back, gesturing to the side of the stage, and the room erupted in shouts and cheers and clapping as Su-Yun Kho appeared on the stage. She waved, smiling at the crowd, wearing auburn hair and a pixelated minidress: green and yellow, white and black, with here and there a splash of red to give it texture. The cr
owd kept cheering, some of them calling out Su-Yun’s catchphrase from her days as an active player:
“Naeil!”
“Naeil!”
“Naeil, naega dangsin-eul dasi igil geos-ida!”
“What does that mean?” asked Alain.
“Quiet,” said Marisa, blinking back tears. “That’s Su-Yun Kho!”
“This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me,” said Jun.
What’s going on? sent Jin. Did you get caught? Did you get away? Is Su-Yun there? She is, isn’t she? She paused, and a moment later sent another message: I hate you all.
Marisa blinked, starting a recording of everything she saw. Our heads are networked together, Jin; patch in and watch.
Thanks, sent Jin.
Su-Yun tried to quiet the crowd, but they kept cheering, and she laughed. Soon the claps and shouts became more rhythmic, eventually coalescing into a chant: “Su-Yun! Su-Yun!” Marisa clapped and chanted with the rest of them, feeling like she fit in for the first time since they’d arrived at the party. Alain was clapping as well, but deliberately out of sync with the rest of them, and Marisa laughed.
“Okay,” said Su-Yun, “okay. Thank you. That’s enough, thank you.” The crowd quieted, and she started her speech. “Thank you so much for having me here today, and thank you to Chaewon for that incredible introduction. I’m honestly kind of embarrassed now—I’m just a person who was pretty good at games. You guys are the real heroes. You’re doing an incredible thing for the people in underprivileged communities, and now it’s my turn to give you a round of applause.” She started clapping, and the crowd exploded in another round of cheers and clapping of their own.
How’s the search going? asked Bao.
Su-Yun Kho is talking, sent Marisa. Want to watch?
Do you have time to watch? sent Bao. Mr. Park’s not going to be down here forever.
“Crap,” Marisa muttered. Su-Yun finally quieted the crowd again, and started talking about her own childhood in one of Seoul’s most destitute neighborhoods. Marisa desperately wanted to listen, but Bao was right. She blinked on the database icon to open it again, and once more her vision filled with an endless series of files and folders and super-exciting financial information. She sighed, and continued her search for Mexico’s yearly sales data.