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frequency, I think I have the right to know."
"Do you think God creates evil people to test the good ones?" Michael asked.
"That was a private conversation!"
"Backfeeding a secure, personal, Vatican channel? Michael? The poor guy hardly
remembers to eat." Eion was protesting from behind me, as I grabbed Michael by
the collar.
My muscles were enhanced enough that I should have been able to lift him to
his feet easily. He didn't budge. Instead, he put his hands over mine and
squeezed. His lips were close to my ear, and I heard him whisper, "Who is the
liar?"
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A hurricane blast pushed me back into Eion, and we both tumbled to the floor.
When the howling wind died down, Michael was gone.
Chapter 30 Page, the Intelligence
In celebration of our new deal, Kioshi-san suggests we all go out for a walk.
It takes forty minutes to prepare Mai's body to host me without the
direct-line cables. Though I'm excited to experience the trip, I am a bit
nervous when he disconnects the last line, my last clear escape route back to
the LINK.
"Ready?" Kioshi asks me. I tell Mai to nod for me, and she does. With that, I
perceive the LINK door close behind me. I'm completely contained in Mai's core
nexus. This is a brand-new experience for me. Mai's body is different from my
father's. My father isn't rideable." The enhancements he's made to his nexus
are designed to give him more speed and control; they're improvements made by
a wire-wizard. Mai has all of those plus a whole lot more. When I experienced
physical sensations through my father's body, only part of me reached inside,
like a hand in a glove. I am subsumed inside Mai. Where I end and she begins
is blurry.
The sensation is both claustrophobic and liberating. I ask Mai to show me the
webbing she wears, and she looks down at her hands. The fibers that cover her
are not easy for her eyes to perceive. To her, it looks as though her skin is
lightly dusted in glitter. It's a nice effect, and she waves her arm under the
desk lamp to see the sparkles.
"Where shall we go?" Kioshi asks, as I get the heady stream of information
that accompanies the simple actions of Mai standing up and shrugging into her
coat. There are so many things to feel the coat's fake fur brushing against
thighs, long tangle of hair against cheeks, eyes blinking, and muscles lifting
and moving. I forget to respond.
"Page?" Kioshi asks politely, once Mai has stopped moving. I'm still awash in
the overload happy to experience only her breathing and heart rate, but I
manage to formulate a response.
"It's up to you, Kioshi-san," Mai's sweet voice says for me. They have
disconnected the speaker so I must tell her what I would like to say.
"Perhaps something simple to start with," Kioshi says, with a broad smile,
suddenly reminding me of his plump, jolly animated avatar. "A walk around the
block."
"Yes, that's probably all I can handle for now."
"You should get used to the sensations, Page," Kioshi says. "Otherwise, you'll
never be able to direct a host on your trip to Mecca." Kioshi glances at me
over his tinted sunglasses. I see the flash of blue eyes again and make a note
for Mai to ask him about that for me.
Not unless you're willing to risk your life, Mai says to me via the LINK.
Why? I ask, as we head out the door of the office.
In Japan, having mixed heritage is a sensitive issue, especially in. . . the
business.
I am amused that she is so circumspect, even in conversations that no one
could possibly overhear. Yes, I know. How did he end up in a position of such
power then?
He's ruthless and cunning. The best at what he does. I sense her
breathlessness at the mere thought of him. Besides, most people have never met
him in person. If they do, they think he is just an errand boy, not the real
Kioshi. You have been very honored by a personal meeting.
Her heart thuds in her chest. She, too, feels honored, and perhaps much more.
How long have you been lovers? Because of our close connection, the question
is out before I can censor it.
We stumble. Mai's hand catches on the doorframe with a hard slap. Kioshi's arm
is around our waist in a second, supporting our weight easily. I can feel the
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heat of her body rise at his touch, the quickening of her breath, and how the
pupils of her eyes dilate. She blushes and drops her gaze, mumbling a hurried
apology. I notice his touch lingers a moment longer than is necessary, but I
can't tell if it is returned affection or a concern about me, her cargo.
"My fault," I have Mai say for me. "Give me a second to get my bearings."
Kioshi bows and stands aside to wait patiently.
I'm sorry, I tell Mai silently. I apologize if I upset you.
She shakes her head so slightly that only I can sense it. We look around the
antechamber, our gaze focusing on the surprised-looking receptionist who sits
behind a black, metallic desk. A paper book is open in his lap, and, noticing
our stare, he quickly returns to reading. He, like Kioshi, wears a suit coat,
but he also has a white shirt and tie, classic and eternally fashionable.
The antechamber is not spacious, but it is twice as large as the office. A
large banner printout of an ASCII snake is framed on the wall. The paper is
yellowed and faded, but I can see green stripes in it, and perfectly spaced
holes running along the top and bottom. In the center of the room, there are
two squishy-looking, purple-plastic chairs very retro, no doubt, to go with
the art. The chairs face a glass end table, huddling closely, as if admiring
the flower arrangement in the center. Kioshi stands to our right, with his
hands behind his back. His eyes seem to study the floor, but it's difficult to
tell behind the tinted sunglasses and his long, thick lashes. Our eyes focus
on his chest and the spot just above the T-shirt, where a tendril of the
colorful tattoo appears on the flesh of his throat. Our heartbeat jumps again.
He must know that you like him, I say.
If he does, it doesn't matter, she replies. Her eyes still focus on his
throat, on the hollow made by his collarbone. It can't be.
Is he married?
Again, she shakes her head. Her gaze travels up to his mouth and lingers
there, on his thin lips.
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