Having SimCon here, in his own town, made it easier to get the jump on finding the inevitable hacks and exploits in the programming. Whoever was first to market with the Feyland cheats would make a pile of money. Aran intended to be that person.
After that, well, he’d like to go clean. He’d wash the hacker slime off, brush up his honest gaming skills, and maybe even get good enough for the tournament circuit.
“Right,” the stage manager said. “Talk to PJ over there—he’ll put you to work.”
Five minutes later, Aran was taping wires to the floor with black gaffer’s tape. He started back at the VGA/mixing board, shadowed in the wings. On hands and knees, he worked his way up to the gleaming sim-system. Sort of like a worshipper approaching a shrine, which was both true and ironic.
The rip of tape blended with the other sounds of set-up, oddly relaxing despite the jangle in his blood. This close to the system, he smelled the newness of it—fresh plas-metal and enamel paint, and all tempting. He laid the last piece of tape, then stood.
Damn, he wanted to try it out. Slowly, he ran his palm over the soft synth-leather of the chair. Envy coiled in the pit of his stomach, spiced with fierce yearning.
“Nice, isn’t it?” a clear, female voice said.
Aran jerked his hand back as if he’d been caught snitching candy. He looked up to see the famous, magenta-haired figure of Spark Jaxley striding onto stage. She was geared up in a suit straight from one of the sim games: molded and shiny, and showing off her curves.
Aran’s mouth went dry, and he was glad of his mixed heritage, the dusky skin that hid the flush he felt warming his cheeks. He’d laughed at Bix’s fanboy moments, but standing there, with the real live Spark Jaxley in front of him, Aran had to admit he understood the attraction.
Spark didn’t drop her smile, though a possessive jolt ran through her at the sight of the guy standing next to her FullD.
“Ah, yeah,” he said. “This is the first model I’ve seen in person. It’s prime.”
She kept walking, coming right into his personal space, close enough to read his badge. He didn’t back off, just gave her a half smile in return. His eyes were slightly tilted, as if one of his parents was Asian, and he was good looking, despite the clunky black glasses obscuring half his face.
“I can’t wait to see you play,” he said.
There was the usual admiration in his voice—she was tired of being adored by people who didn’t even know her—but there was sincerity, too. He really did want to see her show off the system.
“You’re a simmer.” She didn’t need to make it a question.
It was obvious in the way the guy (Aran, according to his badge) had been looking at the FullD. She felt that same pull herself; the lure of immersing herself in a fabulous world, of testing her formidable skills and beating anything the programmers could dream up.
Although the Realm of Faerie was a whole other challenge. Luckily, only a few gamers would ever stumble into that world. When they did, she and the rest of the Feyguard would be there to pull them back out.
“I sim,” Aran said. “Hey, could I get your autograph?”
“Of course. Got a pen?”
He fished around in his jeans pockets, coming up with a folded map of the convention center and a pen with the VirtuMax logo printed on the side.
“Thanks,” he said, handing them to her. “Make it out to Bix. B-I-X.”
“Your name isn’t Aran?” She shot another look at his badge.
“It’s for a friend. He’s a big fan.”
“I’ll be in the VirtuMax area tomorrow. He could meet me then.” She wrote out the name and signed her autograph, then handed the pen and paper back to Aran.
“Maybe. But he’s shy—and there’ll be about a thousand other people who’ll want your autograph. This way, your hand will be spared from signing one more.”
She laughed a little. “I like your logic. You know, there’ll be demo models of the FullD for people to try.”
“I know.” His dark brown eyes sparked with interest. “Although there’s still that problem of the thousand other people.”
She tilted her head and studied him a moment. There was something appealing about this guy, beyond the fact he wasn’t a complete mess of fannish drool at her feet. And he was cute. Rebounding from your almost-crush on Roy? a voice inside her needled. But there was no such thing as a not-falling-in-love rebound.#p#分页标题#e#
“Listen,” she said. “You’ve got a badge. Come in early tomorrow. I’ll clear you with security, and make sure you get some system time. Say, around nine? Con opens at ten.”