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THE NEWCOMER
Path A1A3 by Jay
[Path A1A3. Request more privacy.]
The tall figure looms above Cyberreyn, a silhouette in the warm sun. "My name is N---"
"Yeah, whatever. Leave me alone."
"But--"
"Can't you see I'm trying to relax?" Cyberreyn realizes that the cell phone is still activated in her hand. "Hey, Flick, can you get rid of this asshole? He's annoying me."
"S-Sure," Flicker answers, somewhat awkwardly. "J-Just a sec."
"Wait, f*ck that," she changes her mind. While the hovering seagulls and drifting sailboats seem to sooth her disquieted soul, her newfound naughtiness sparks other more-personal interests. "Can I make a request for a more-private construct?"
"Hey, wait, Cy!" Flicker starts to drool onto his beard, peering at one of the smaller computer screens. "You're not thinking, what I think you're thinking, are you?"
"Maybe... But if I am, no goddamn peeking." Then she ponders, "Hmmm, maybe a cheesy motel room with Brad Pitt... maybe a couple hours?"
"You're serious? Brad Pitt?"
"F*ck it, I'll just get out and beat your scrawny little--"
"OK-OK, you got it!" He punches a string of characters into his keyboard, throws a few touches onto various screens, and loads the motel-room construct.
Instantly, her beach recliner transforms into a sagging queen-sized bed, hiding painfully under a faded flower-designed comforter. The ragged paint-splotched door, the tiny wood-paneled TV, and the multi-cracked mirror, aptly completes the scene. The shoulder-high single-bulbed floor lamp casts a dreary golden hue, while the orange-red sunstreaks mingle with the long-fingered shadows outside.
"Cheesy enough for ya?" Flicker smiles.
A little awed, Cyberreyn replies, "Not bad." She adjusts her yellow two-piece bikini. "Now remember, no peeking! No brain scans, no heart monitors, no audio, no visual, no nothing! Got it?"
"Yeah-yeah. Got it," he sighs. On command, the window blinds close and the curtains fall.
"Send him in."
In moments, Brad Pitt, a famous American actor from Cyberreyn's early 21st century, opens the door and enters the room. In a simple T-shirt and blue jeans, he says, "Hi, Cy. Care for a kiss on the--"
Suddenly, Brad Pitt stops motionless in mid-sentence, his eyes in mid-blink.
"Dammit, Flicker!" she curses.
"Flick?" No answer. "Hello? Flicker?" And then she remembers telling him: "No peeking!"
Choose Path A1A3A to call for Flicker one more time. Flicker can be such a jerk.
Choose Path A1A3B to wait and think.
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