"Oh, good, you're up!" She immediately sprang from the sofa, ran over to the media player, and turned it on full blast.
Bob smiled, although the music was a bit louder than even he liked and Val had already tampered with the player's skin setting. (It had previously had the appearance of a classic wood-panelled radio; now it was an eye-watering criss-cross of citric colours that Bob couldn't even remember downloading.) But the cousins had much the same taste in music, and before long they were both singing along to the Beach Binomes' "110011001".
Once the song had ended and they were through laughing, Bob said, "Well, now that we've woken up the entire sector, what do you say to breakfast at Dot's?"
"Good idea! You don't keep very much in the pantry, do you?"
On the way out, Val peered closely at the portrait of Dot, smirked, and commented, "You know, Brown-Eyes, you really should clean this better if you're having company over. There are smudges all over her mouth."
Bob's face glowed like a descending Game cube.
"Hey! You've got more whipped cream on your
half!"
"I do not!"
"Yes you do!"
"I divided it very carefully."
"Oh, come on! Look at it! There's
loads more on your side."
"You're hallucinating."
"Here, I'll fix it."
There was a clatter of cutlery.
The binomes in the Diner looked with interest at
the sight of two sprites in Guardian uniforms having a miniature swordfight
over the top of an extremely large waffle.
They had, unusually, been served quite promptly
despite Dot's absence. Where Bob had failed with cajolery, threats,
politeness, sarcasm, and bloody-minded persistence, Val had succeeded through
a combination of confusion and outrage. First, she had pronounced
Cecil's name correctly. She was probably the first customer ever
to do so, and Cecil was clearly nonplussed. Then, when he showed
no sign of serving them immediately, she offered (with evident sincerity
and her usual eagerness) to get the food herself. Rather than permit
this, Cecil hastened to bring them their meal.
Bob was actually rather relieved that Dot wasn't
there at the moment. While he ordinarily preferred to spend as much
time with her as possible, Val had a way of grinning at him whenever she
was mentioned that made him reluctant to be in the presence of both at
once. Besides, he was sure she wouldn't approve of the mock-duel.
He quickly disarmed Val, sending her knife pinwheeling
past a pale fuchsia sprite who had just entered. "Whoops! Sorry,
Mouse!"
"That's all right, sugah. Who's your friend?"
"This is my cousin Val. Val, this is Mouse."
"Alphanumeric to meet you! Bobby's told me
all about you. I love your hair!"
"Well, thank you, honey. The pleasure's mutual.
So, what was it Ah just interrupted?"
Val put on a look of injured dignity. "Bobby
unjustly accused me of hogging the whipped cream."
"Unjust!" cried Bob indignantly. "Mouse, look
at this waffle!"
"It was a perfectly fair division," insisted Val.
Mouse suppressed a smile. "Well, if you
think it's equal, and you don't, why don't you switch sides?"
The Guardians looked at each other, then at Mouse.
"Where's the fun in that?" asked Val.
This time Mouse did smile. "Of course.
So, Val," she said, sliding into the seat next to Bob, "you're a Guardian?"
"Well, a cadet."
"Have you been in many Games?"
"Some. But there're always a few full Guardians
along, to bail us out. Takes away a lot of the excitement.
Mostly it's just classes."
"Val's at the top of her encryption class," Bob
put in.
"Really?" said Mouse happily. "What're
you studying?"
As the conversation wandered off into a maze of
algorithms and modular functions, the now totally ignored Bob transferred
some of the whipped cream from Val's half of the waffle to his own and
applied himself to his breakfast.
"So, what's on the agenda for today?"
Bob scratched his head. Val had been there
for almost a minute, and he was running out of ideas. He had shown
her around much of Baudway and pretty much all of Kits; she had oohed and
aahed at the fancy homes in Beverly Hills and poked around the less restricted
areas of the Principal Office (where she had spent a pleasant millisecond
giggling over Phong's JPEG album). She had also spent a great deal
of time with Enzo, usually with one or other of the adults in frantic pursuit.
"Hmm." A thought struck him, and he brightened
up. "Hey, Dot! Could you give Mr. Mitchell a call? Maybe
he'd take us boating."
"Just a nano, let me finish this spreadsheet…"
A Vid Window appeared in the air, facing them.
"Sir! Ma'am!" barked the uniformed binome. "We've got another
situation in G-Prime! It's worse this time. Could turn into
a riot."
Bob sighed and rose. "Be right there, Chief."
The binome nodded and the window closed. "Dot, I'll take care of
the fighting. You find Matrix and do whatever you can to keep him
out of it. You remember what happened last time."
"Why?" asked Val curiously. "What happened
last time? I'd think Matrix would be the ideal sprite for riot control."
"Oh, he got the fighting under control, all right…"
Bob grimaced.
"Ohhhh. Ooh." Val shrugged. "Well,
let's go, then!"
"What? No no no. You stay here."
"But Bobby, this is Guardian business! I'm
here for job experience, remember? If I don't go, what's the point?"
Dot frowned. "She's right, Bob."
"But you said yourself you're no good at fighting!"
"I should at least watch," insisted Val.
Bob threw up his hands, a beaten sprite. "All
right, you can watch. From a safe distance," he added pointedly.
"Any sign of the situation escalating, and you come back here right away.
Got that?"
"Yes sir!" said Val, saluting smartly.
As they headed for the door, she added, "Do you
think it will turn into a riot?"
"Nah. Me and Glitch can stop it before it
gets that far, no problem."
He staggered back into the Diner several millis later,
moaning, "The horror! The horror!"
Dot immediately raced over and helped him to the
table she was sharing with a sulking Matrix. "Bob! What happened?
Was the fighting that bad?" Matrix scowled even more deeply.
"Fighting?" Bob looked puzzled. "Oh,
yeah, there was fighting. No, that was okay."
"Then what in the Net happened?" asked Dot, highly
alarmed.
Bob slumped forward on the table. "We ran
into AndrAIa on the way back," he said in a muffled monotone. "I
said they could go shopping."
Matrix gaped. "You said what?
Are you random?"
Dot gave him a look of pity. "Oh, Bob, you
poor, sweet idiot. What were you thinking?"
"I was tired!" moaned Bob. "Riot control really
takes it out of you. It affected my judgement."
"I'll say." A worried look crossed Dot's face.
"Where's Val?"
In the same flat tone, Bob replied, "On the roof
with Enzo, dropping data balloons on binomes."
"Oh, no!" Dot sprinted for the door.
Soon after, the sounds of haranguing came from the direction of the roof.
"What are you… bad for business… never stopped to think… User knows I…"
"So where's AndrAIa?" asked Matrix, who now seemed
considerably less disappointed at having missed the fighting.
"Outside," Bob told the table. "She said she
could use a hand with the bags."
Matrix sighed and got up. "Yeah, all right."
Halfway to the door, he paused. "You sure you're all right?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. I just need a little—"
And then the alarm sounded. A bell began to
ring, the sky outside darkened, and a pleasant female voice that sounded
like it was coming from everywhere at once chanted, "Warning: incoming
Game. Warning: incoming Game."
Bob rose instantly and started to run for the door,
but after a few steps he stopped and bent over with his hands on his knees.
Breathing heavily, he muttered, "Just give me half a nano."
Matrix glanced out a window at the distant purple
glow descending on Kits, toward which two small figures were already flying.
"No time! It'll be down in less than four nanos!"
Bob didn't ask how Matrix knew; the renegade might
never have received formal Guardian training, but he probably had more
Game experience than anyone else in the Net. "Ugh. Maybe you
should take this one without me."
"No way! I told you before, I don't babysit!"
With that, he grabbed Bob, heaved him over his shoulder without apparent
effort, and ran out the door.
As Bob twisted, protesting, he glimpsed AndrAIa
staring at them, several huge shopping bags hanging from each arm, and
Dot hovering near the roof on her zipboard, desperately juggling an armful
of brightly coloured balloons. Then they were separated, first by
distance and then by a descending purple wall.
