Complete Atopia Chronicles

Many of the world’s leaders were in attendance today, reflecting the growing international significance of Atopia. It was an important opportunity for us to show off on the world stage, and Kesselring had left detailed instructions for all of the Council and Board members, including that we all show up in the flesh to minimize confusion on the part of our guests.

Someone grabbed my arm as I began to descend the entry staircase.

“Congratulations Jimmy!” said an excited Nancy Killiam, resplendent in a shimmering gown of what looked like liquid helium flowing around her in silvery wisps. She pulled me close to kiss my cheek, the liquid helium flowing silently around me. She put her arm in mine.

“Thanks,” I replied. My nomination to the Security Council, by far the youngest ever, had earned me the invitation tonight. I still felt a little embarrassed at all the attention, so I quickly switched gears. “On the contrary, it should be me who is congratulating you!”

Patricia had given me a little heads up on the push to move Infinixx up on the Cognix agenda. Now it was her turn to appear embarrassed.

“No congratulations yet, Jimmy,” she whispered conspiratorially. “That’s supposed to be a secret!”

“No secrets from me,” I whispered back, winking. “I may be able to help out, actually.”

Nancy looked at me, about to ask, when I shook my head. “I can’t say now.”

We finished descending the staircase together, arm in arm. Reaching the landing, someone called out her name, and she looked away towards them, and then back at me. I smiled and nodded her leave to go. With a whoosh the silvery helium flowing around me disappeared and followed her off into the crowd. I certainly felt her go.

“Drink sir?” asked a waiter who had swept up silently beside me carrying a golden tray full of champagne flutes. I reached out and took a glass.

I watched Nancy greeting our fellow pssi–kids. This was definitely our time to shine, and shine we did in our glittery and fanciful skins. I watched some of the visitors watching them with wonder, still adjusting to the trial pssi system everyone who came to Atopia had installed. It was a great marketing stunt.

Any technology sufficiently advanced to someone unfamiliar with it, had all the appearances of magic, and this place definitely held a mystical air to our visitors.

Kesselring had left a long and detailed set of instructions about who he wanted me to introduce myself to and chat with. Looking around the ballroom, their names and identities popped up and splintered in my display spaces, and their bodies glowed in faint outlines, allowing me to pick them out from the crowd.

Many were my counterparts in armed and security forces, and many of these from the Indian and Chinese contingents, who were here in force today. Atopia was viewed as a neutral territory for these warring sides. Even more important, what we were doing here was viewed by both sides as an indispensible part of their economic and technological future.

I sighed, straightened out my new ADF Whites, and wound my way into the crowd.

§

The event was beginning to wind down. My last discussion had been most interesting, as I’d managed to bring together some senior cyber security people from both the Indian and Chinese sides at the same time. I was quite certain it wasn’t my diplomatic skills, but more a desire not to be left out on any details. They were as hungry as the rest of the world for pssi.

Just then I felt someone poke me with a phantom. It was Commander Rick Strong, standing not ten feet from where I was. His phantoms dragged me over to him.

“General, Mrs. McInnis, I’d like to introduce you to one of our rising young stars, Mr. Jim Jones,” he announced as I arrived. I stood straight up at attention and bowed to take Mrs. McInnis’ hand, then turned to give the General a firm handshake.

“The pleasure is mine,” I announced to them both.

“You’re one of those pssi–kids, right?” asked Mrs. McInnis.

I laughed. “Yes ma’am, one of those.”

“Could you show me something?”

She obviously wanted some kind of carnival trick, and I could see the Commander was about to excuse me when I took a step back, bowing to Mrs. McInnis, and then theatrically flourished one hand forward to produce a bouquet of red roses and pink lilies. I handed them to her gracefully.

She put one hand to her chest. “Oh my goodness,” she declared, her eyes wide.

“Take them,” I offered, “they’re real, or at least, they’ll feel that way to you.”

Mrs. McInnis tentatively reached out the hand from her chest and gripped the bouquet at its base, the flowers gently swaying as she took them. She leaned in and smelled them.

“They smell absolutely gorgeous!” she exclaimed, her nose in a lily.

“And,” I announced, waving my hand and snapping my fingers, “presto!”