I nodded, frowning. I’d never heard them speak at the same time before, no overlapping.
“You don’t have to do that,” the man’s voice said, in a sympathetic way. “Or call me sir. Sorry, but it’s time to get you linked for real and into the sim. Hop up.” Given his gentle tone and that he sounded like he dreaded the next step, he might be the researcher expressing doubts on the private forum SmallvilleGuy had gained access to.
The heat signatures that were gathered around the man spread into a wide circle around him, then sat down one by one in a coordinated way. If I was right, they were facing the center of a large room.
The sympathetic man was joined by a trio of other people, who went by each of the seated Warheads in turn. The heat signatures didn’t make movements crystal clear, but they were plain enough that we could see that the man’s helpers appeared to be leaning in as they stopped at each Warhead, touching the sides of their heads. It was easy to guess they were hooking holosets over the Warheads’ ears.
“Why would they use regular holosets?” I asked.
No one answered, though Maddy shrugged.
The lab couldn’t just want them playing the game? They could do that anywhere. Anytime. There had to be some twist on the tech happening.
The hues of the splotchy forms were growing brighter around the circle. Heating up. Like they were nervous.
No, not nervous—excited.
Like they were excited for whatever was about to happen.
Three of the standing heat signatures left the room. From the slightly tilted angle, I could tell Anavi’s backpack was on the floor, presumably next to her seat. Maybe she was a softer hue than the others? But it didn’t last. Soon, she was the brightest of all. A red so vivid it might have burned to the touch.
The first man had remained in the room, and he said, “Get ready, guys.” And then, “Linking subjects now.”
A series of tones sounded—an eerie pattern that repeated—and each of the Warheads’ heads seemed to lean forward, like there was something they wanted to see better.
Whatever they were looking at must have been inside the real-sim their holos projected, though, because the center of the floor remained empty of any heat signatures. No one besides the Warheads was in the room except the man off to one side. I noticed that he had raised his hands to cover his ears.
The tones that sounded were almost familiar. Almost, but not quite, and they finally concluded, replaced by several moments of quiet.
The man said, “Cue up today’s test scenario. In three, two, one.”
CHAPTER 20
When the countdown ended, the man strode over to Anavi and crouched in front of her. “You’re safe here. Don’t worry. The link gets easier.”
“I’m fine,” was the murmured response in her familiar voice, a suggestion of irritation in it.
The others echoed it around the room, magnifying the irritated tone. “We’re fine.”
“No need to pretend. You’re not that closely linked.” The man chided them, still sounding sympathetic. “We need to be able to record accurate results. The boss will notice if we don’t.”
He muttered afterward, purposely muffled in his elbow, so they wouldn’t hear him. But the bug picked it up: “Wish I could pretend I didn’t need this job.”
He thought they were pretending to be more closely linked than they were? Ha.
“He doesn’t know,” I said.
“Doesn’t know what?” Maddy asked.
Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Not yet. Not when it would only lead to a discussion of mad science, and me possibly losing them as friends.
“What were those sounds?” James asked.
“Don’t know. We should listen,” I said to cover my slip-up. I was as curious about the tones as he was. But I knew one thing. It was becoming obvious that the experiment was having more of an effect on the Warheads than even the people running it were aware. And that at least this worker was troubled by the results, despite being ignorant of the full extent.
The Warheads weren’t just recruiting and toying with fellow students.
They were toying with the people running the experiment.
The next fifteen minutes should have been dull but instead were riveting. We watched as the Warheads remained motionless in their seats, while the man running the experiment gave them verbal cues about moving through a landscape.
“Figure out a way into the compound,” he’d say, and then clap reluctant encouragement a few moments later, at their apparent proficiency in doing so.
Then, “Now find the third floor and defuse the bomb. With no—or, wait, the prompt says with minimal civilian casualties.” He watched what we couldn’t, shaking his head occasionally.
It did sound like they were running them through a real-sim environment. But it wouldn’t make sense to go to all this effort if it was only the game.
“Devin?” I asked.
After a lag, he said, “Yeah?”