“What’re we going to say?” Bryson asked. “I barely got through my presentation on amphibians last fall without squeaking.”
“Squeaking?” Sarah repeated. She gave him a little pat, then turned to Michael. “How about you do all the talking?”
“Me?” Michael’s voice rose an octave. “Why me? Last fall when Bryson was … squeaking through his amphibians report, I wasn’t even human. I might not know how to use my vocal cords properly.”
Bryson snorted.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Sarah said.
Michael and Bryson exchanged a look: it was clear she’d known all along that she’d be the one. Before Michael could thank her, there was a knock on the door and it swung open. Agent Weber walked in, confident as always.
“It’s time,” she announced. All that humble sorry-you-were-almost-killed sentiment had vanished. She was back to being all business.
“We’re not ready,” Bryson said. “We need to plan what we’re going to say.”
But Sarah was already off the cot and walking toward the door. She stopped when she reached Agent Weber and turned to face her friends.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ll wing it.”
The War Room.
Michael found himself not breathing for a few seconds after Agent Weber ushered them inside. He stopped for a moment to take it all in. On one side of the giant room, there were several tiers of seats—almost like a theater or a stadium—the rows roughly half filled with men and women of every race. In front of each glowed a NetScreen, at which most of the people were busily working, oblivious to the newcomers. Michael wondered why the room was only half full.
On the other side of the room, one of the largest three-dimensional displays Michael had ever seen hovered in midair. Displays like that were usually reserved for games and movies, but this one was enormous, at least a hundred feet wide and nearly as tall. It was impossible to tell how deep it went; it looked like it continued on forever. There were maps and diagrams and live feeds of places both real and programmed. A massive, detailed globe of the world hung right in the middle, slowly turning, symbols and dots scattered across its glowing surface.
Michael felt like a high-level spy, ready to take on the world. And then he realized that Agent Weber and his friends were all looking at him.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”
Weber motioned to a podium that sat directly below the flying globe of the Earth, with several chairs lined up right next to it. “Please,” she said. “My people are dealing with a lot of situations that need attention. I don’t want to take any more of their time than necessary.”
Michael stared at her in disbelief. For her to say such a thing made him wonder if she could possibly understand what was at stake. He was about to say something when Bryson went ahead and did it for him.
“A lot of situations?” he asked. “Are you kidding me? Do you—”
Sarah interrupted him. “Let’s just get started. Please?” Michael was surprised that she looked nervous.
He looked back at their audience and realized that most of the VNS agents had stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to the new arrivals. He waved feebly, feeling like the stupidest person who’d ever lived. No one waved back.
“By all means,” Agent Weber said, once again motioning to the podium. “The floor is yours. I’ll be at the controls—just link with my system if you want anything displayed on the War Board.”
“War this and War that,” Bryson murmured under his breath to Michael. “Seems kinda weird for people who’re just supposed to be monitoring the VirtNet. This place gives me the willies.”
“The willies?” Michael repeated.
“The willies.”
Sarah had already made her way to the center of the vast room. Agent Weber matched her stride for stride. Michael grabbed Bryson by the shirt and hurried after them. The whole situation seemed a little off, but what could they expect? The entire world was a little off when a computer program tried to take over the human race.
Weber stepped up to the podium and pulled the microphone closer to her mouth, just as Michael and the other two settled in right behind her. Before she said a word, the room quieted, the murmurs of conversation cutting off instantly.
“Good afternoon,” Weber began, her voice echoing. “Thank you for gathering today, especially on such short notice. Some of you are here virtually, but I’m glad that as many of you as possible are actually present. I’ve only invited those with whom I’ve built a solid relationship of trust over many years.”