A question of character

“Oh, my gosh!” Bess exclaimed. “Does this mean — is VirtualNancy — is she, you know, dead?”

I couldn’t answer for a second. It was surprising just how shocking it felt to have my virtual self “killed” that way. “I — I didn’t even know that could happen,” I stammered at last, staring at the floating skull and crossbones.

“I did,” George said. “I just never thought it would happen to us. To her. You know.”

The death screen blinked out, replaced by a new one with a green background. It was an instruction screen that explained that we were welcome to re-create our avatar or build a brand-new one, but that we would have to start the game over again from scratch, with a new entry-level job, a cheap apartment, etc. THERE ARE NO DO-OVERS IN BETTERLIFE, the screen said. AS THEY SAY, YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU.

“So we lost all our upgrades?” Bess sounded horrified. “This is terrible! After all the hard work I did on her hair, her makeup, her clothes… all for nothing!”

“Anybody home?” a voice drifted up from downstairs. It was my father.

We hurried down to say hello. Dad still looked exhausted, but there was a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step that had been missing lately.

“You look chipper for a guy who just put in, like, fifteen hours at the office,” I said, standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He grinned at me. “That’s because we’re getting close to settling this thing,” he said, flinging his jacket on a chair and loosening his tie. “If nothing throws a wrench into the works, we may be able to wrap it up sometime next week.”

“Congrats, Mr. D.,” George said. Then she yawned and glanced at me and Bess. “It’s pretty late. How about we call it a night and tackle our own wrench in the works in the morning?”

***

“Okay,” George said, bending over her computer keyboard. It was the next day, and we were getting ready to create a new avatar. “So we want this VirtualNancy to be totally different from the previous one, right?”

Bess nodded. “Right. But I don’t think we should call it VirtualNancy.”

“Duh.” George hit a key to call up the BUILD YOUR AVATAR screen. “Let’s put something together and then think of a good name.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said weakly. I knew they were right — if we wanted to snoop around BetterLife on the down-low, our new avatar should be as different from dear departed VirtualNancy as possible. Besides, I knew lots of people created avatars that were very different from themselves for various reasons — like Ibrahim with MrNiceGuy, for instance, or Rebecca with Guitarlvr15. But I still felt a little weird about it. I’d never really wanted to be anyone other than myself.

George glanced over and caught my expression. “Think of it as going undercover,” she advised. “By the way, I’m also fudging our member info this time in case UrNewReality is watching for a new ‘Nancy’ to pop up.” She shrugged. “It might not help with a super-hacker like this, but at least maybe it’ll buy us a little time.”

“Okay.” Bess rubbed her hands together. “So let’s go — what would be the exact opposite of Nancy?”

“To start with, let’s make her a boy.” George hit a button, and a bland-looking blond guy appeared on the screen.

“No more blonds,” Bess advised. “Let’s give him dark hair.”

“What style?” George’s hand paused above the mouse.

“Guys, let’s not get carried away here…,” I began.

But it was no use. Before I knew it, the two of them had created a super-fashionable male club kid with a faux-hawk. He had a pierced nose, tanned skin, guy-liner, and wildly cool clothes — or at least as cool as Bess could manage with a starter avatar’s points.

“As soon as we get a couple of upgrades, maybe we can give him a gold tooth or something,” Bess commented.

“What should we call him?” George asked.

“Keep it simple,” I said. “How about something like CoolJoe or FunFred?”

“I know!” Bess didn’t even bother to acknowledge my suggestions. “How about Dancin’ Four Evah?”

“Perfect! Let’s see if it’s available.” George typed it in, and there was a soft ding, indicating that the name had been accepted.

I sighed. “Okay, it was weird enough messing around, living a two-dimensional extra life with an avatar that at least resembled me. But with this creature…”

“Quit complaining,” George advised. “Dancin4Evah is the perfect cover. Nobody would ever guess he was yours!”

I had to agree with that. Soon Dancin4Evah was sniffing around Virtual River Heights looking for anything suspicious. But not much was happening at the moment.

“Too early, I guess,” George said.

“Uh-huh. Maybe we should give up for now and — Hold that thought,” I interrupted myself as my cell phone rang.

It was Ned. He was calling to say that he and his parents were having lunch with Professor al-Fulani and his family over at the university dining hall to celebrate how well last night’s speech had gone, and my friends and I were invited to join them.

“We’ll be there,” I told him, deciding that lunch in the real world sounded a lot better than wasting any more time in the virtual world. An hour later Bess, George, and I were walking across campus toward the dining hall. It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon and lots of students were out on the green studying, tossing Frisbees, or just hanging out.

“I wonder if Agnes Fitzgerald is working today,” I said as we headed up the dining hall steps. “I’d still like to talk to her about last Saturday — see if she noticed anything.”

“Who?” George said. “Oh, wait. You mean Shannon’s Aunt Congeniality, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

I glanced around as we went inside. Agnes was nowhere in sight, but I did spy the skinny woman I’d seen with her at the first protest. Hurrying over, I waited until the woman finished dishing out some mac and cheese to a student and then smiled at her.

“Hi,” I said. “You don’t know me, but I’m an acquaintance of Agnes Fitzgerald’s. Do you know if she’s working today?”

“Agnes? No, she’s off today — be in tomorrow lunch, though,” the woman replied, dropping her spoon back into the vat of noodles.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I really do need to speak with her — you don’t happen to have her home phone number, do you?” I asked.

The woman shrugged. “Nope. Agnes doesn’t socialize much with anyone at work. Likes to keep to herself. You could probably ask at the main office, though. They might have it.”

I thanked her and moved on, deciding there was an easier way to get Agnes’s number. As I stepped away from the line to a quiet spot behind some trash bins, I punched in Shannon’s home number.

“Yo, party central,” a voice answered after half a ring.

“Shannon?” I said in surprise. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be grounded from the phone?”

“Nancy? Is that you? What do you want this time?” Shannon instantly sounded defensive. “And for your information, I picked up by accident. You know — like, force of habit or whatever.”

Yeah, right. “Is your mother there?” I asked.

“No. Why? What do you want to talk to her about?” Now she sounded downright hostile.

“I just need your Aunt Agnes’s phone number, that’s all,” I replied soothingly. Suddenly remembering that Mrs. Fitzgerald had mentioned that Shannon and Agnes were close, I added, “Do you happen to know it?”

“Of course. I can give it to you — but only if you promise not to tell my parents I answered the phone.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I promise.” For a second I wondered uneasily if Shannon was doing anything else that went against her grounding, like using the computer….

But I shook off the thought quickly. Shannon definitely wasn’t UrNewReality, and neither were any of her friends. For one thing, none of them were old enough to drive, unlike whoever had hurled that rock at me last Sunday evening.

Shannon gave me the phone number. “But she probably won’t talk to you,” she warned. “Aunt Agnes hates everyone. Well, except for me, of course.” Her voice turned smug. “She thinks I’m pretty much perfect. In fact, she was the one who helped me make my BetterLife avatar as totally awesome as I am in real life. Not that it does me much good now…”

“Thanks, Shannon,” I said, ignoring the not-so-subtle gripe. “Good-bye.”

I hung up and glanced across the dining hall. Bess and George had already found the Nickersons and the al-Fulanis. All of them were standing around chatting near the entrance to the cafeteria line. I figured that gave me time for one more call….

As predicted, Aunt Agnes sounded less than thrilled to hear from me, though she did seem to remember who I was. When she heard my question, she was silent for a moment.

“Oh, yeah,” she said at last. “Come to think of it, I did see someone that day. Caught him looking out at me from behind a tree across the street while I was driving off.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

“Yeah, I guess. Kind of a skinny teenage kid, dark skin and hair. Couldn’t really see much else.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That’s very helpful. Let me give you my number, okay? Please call me if you remember anything else.” I recited my cell phone number twice, though based on her answering grunt I wasn’t fully convinced she’d bothered to write it down.

I hung up and glanced across the room. Ibrahim was talking to Bess at the moment, laughing at something she’d just said. A skinny kid with dark skin and hair…

But I shook my head, instantly dismissing the thought. Ibrahim couldn’t be the person Agnes had seen. Ned had been picking him up at the coffee shop at the time. Besides, I still couldn’t believe he’d vandalize my car or do any of that other stuff.

Plus whoever called the pizza place was female, I reminded myself. I wonder if the figure Agnes saw could have been a girl?

I almost called her back to ask. But Mr. Nickerson spotted me at that moment and waved me over. Putting away my phone, I hurried over to join the party.

After lunch, while Ned and his parents were still chatting with the al-Fulanis, my friends and I excused ourselves and hurried off to the library in search of a computer terminal. Bess and George were eager to check on our new creation, but I was already wondering if we’d been foolish to hide our identity this time. After all, most of our clues so far had come from UrNewReality’s e-mails. How were we supposed to proceed if he/she/it couldn’t find us anymore?

Not much had changed since last we’d seen Virtual River Heights. We’d left Dancin4Evah at the smoothie shop, and he was still there slurping down a wild-berry smoothie.

“Now what?” George said as she activated him.

I bit my lip, feeling frustrated. “This investigation is going nowhere fast,” I said. “We need help — and I know where we might be able to find some. Run a search and see if ParteeGrl21 is online. She claimed to be an expert on BetterLife, remember? Maybe she’ll have some new ideas.”

George seemed slightly insulted that I was going to someone else for computerrelated help, but she searched and discovered ParteeGrl21 at the mall food court. We took Dancin4Evah there and approached her.

HI! Dancin4Evah said. CAN I TALK TO YOU?

SORRY, ParteeGrl21 typed back. UR NOT MY TYPE.

The miniskirted avatar started to walk away. I grimaced, realizing she had no idea this pierced-and-stylin’ guy was me. WAIT! Dancin4Evah said, switching from public speech mode to private message. IT’S ME — VIRTUALNANCY. I MADE A NEW AVATAR.

ParteeGrl21 turned to face me. NANCY, IS THAT REALLY U?

IT’S ME, I said. MY OTHER SELF WAS TERMINATED. I NEED YOUR HELP TO FIGURE OUT WHO DID IT.

I know, I know — that was a touch melodramatic, considering we were talking about virtual people. But I figured it might catch ParteeGrl21’s attention, and I was right. Her speech was peppered with multiple OMGs as she immediately offered to help in any way she could.

“Now what?” Bess asked, watching over my shoulder. “You’re not going to tell her the truth, are you? You don’t even know who she really is.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan — just watch.”

I typed fast, explaining to ParteeGrl21 via private message that I still suspected someone was impersonating my real-life boyfriend on the game. I NEED TO FIGURE OUT WHO IT REALLY IS, I WENT ON, TO FIND THE REAL PERSON BEHIND THE AVATAR.

WHAT DO U WANT ME 2 DO? she asked.

FIND NEDNICK02, I replied. SEE IF YOU CAN GET HIM TO TELL YOU WHO HE IS.

She agreed and set off. It wasn’t easy to keep Dancin4Evah unobtrusive, but I did my best, guiding him along at a safe distance behind her.

NedNick02 was at the public basketball courts watching a game. ParteeGrl21 walked over to join him.

HI, she greeted him. REMEMBER ME? WE MET @ THE PROTEST LAST WKEND.

HOW COULD I 4GET? NedNick02 responded right away. UR HOTT!

THX. U2, ParteeGrl21 replied. I THOUGHT MAYBE WE COULD HANG OUT SOMETIME.

KOOL, NedNick02 said. HOW ABOUT NOW?

ParteeGrl21 giggled.

“Hey, I didn’t even know avatars could do that,” Bess commented. “We could have used that giggle function when we were trying to get into that party.”

“I knew about it,” George said. “I just figured VirtualNancy wasn’t the giggling type.”

OK, THEN TELL ME ABOUT YRSELF, ParteeGrl21 was saying to NedNick02. I HEARD UR A COLLEGE BOY. I LIKE SMRT BOYZ.

“Good line,” Bess commented.

I gasped. “It’s her!” I blurted out.

“Huh?” George said. “It’s who?”

I stabbed a finger at the screen. “I never told ParteeGrl that Ned was in college. I’m sure of it! In fact, she doesn’t even know how old I am — in real life, I mean.”

Bess looked confused. “So?”

“So don’t you get it?” I cried. “She knows Ned’s a college student even though I never told her. ParteeGrl21 must be UrNewReality!”

Дата добавления: 2017-01-14