The Leveller - Julia Durango Page 0,40

side of the MEEP on private medical research. When you think about all the diseases and disabilities out there . . . virtual reality could relieve the suffering of millions, maybe billions of people on this planet.”

Wyn is more animated than I’ve ever seen him, now that he’s warmed to his topic. And I have to admit, I’m pretty blown away by this news—the idea that the MEEP can be more than just a virtual rec center for bored teens.

“I mean, think of all the educational opportunities out there, especially once the multi-player capabilities are released to the public,” he continues. “Imagine the virtual museums that historians could create. Teachers could take their students on field trips to ancient Egypt or Machu Picchu during the height of the Incan empire . . . professors could lecture inside the Parthenon in Athens or the Colosseum in Rome.”

“English majors could drink daiquiris with Ernest Hemingway in Havana,” I chime in, remembering my new friends at the Floridita.

“Exactly,” he says, laughing. “MeaParadisus can be so much more than a gaming platform. It could change the world as we know it, use our brains in ways that will enhance life and broaden our knowledge.”

I get up from my bench and go sit next to him. “That’s truly incredible, Wyn,” I say, taking his hand, and I mean it.

I hold my breath for a minute, hoping he doesn’t pull away. I can’t blame him if he does; I’ve had my claws out ever since I got here.

He looks down at my hand and squeezes it, then smiles at me. “You’re pretty incredible yourself, Nixy Bauer.”

I can’t help it.

I melt into those chocolate eyes like marshmallows in cocoa.

I know, I know.

I need to get out of here.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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THE TROPICANA IS HOPPING. HUNDREDS OF MEEPLE ARE DINING, dancing, gambling, and mingling in the various rooms of the enormous nightclub. Wyn is giving me the full tour and I’m truly amazed at how much work he’s put into this place. The men are all in trim suits and tuxedos, hair slicked back and shoes just as shiny, but it’s the women who truly stand out in their glamorous evening gowns, jewels, and beauty shop updos. I’ve put on my wench dress for the occasion. I stick out like a sore thumb, but the Meeple don’t notice, and Wyn seems to like it because he keeps, shall we say, not meeting my eyes.

The meadow-green aproned dress is cut pretty low and the laced bodice makes me look curvier than usual.

“Stop it!” I say, laughing as he pretends to sneak a peek at my cleavage. “For all you know, these are just enhancements.”

That startles him.

“I . . . I’ve never thought about your avatar being enhanced. Is it?”

He looks more than a little perplexed by the notion that the real me might look different. “Does it matter?” I say, teasing him, but only a little.

“No, of course not,” he says, his voice earnest. “In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, if I met you in real life, I probably couldn’t handle it. I’d faint or hyperventilate. Because I’m suave like that. Truly, I hope you are enhanced, for the sake of all humanity.”

“Good answer,” I say, grinning like a fool. I can’t help it. He’s kind of perfect right now. Except for the sexy cigarette girl coming toward us, her eyes glued to Wyn, her big red lips smiling seductively.

She’s wearing little more than a gold-sequined, strapless bathing suit, matching high heels that make her bronzed legs look a mile long, and some heavy-duty cleavage that takes mine right out of the race.

“Wyn, amorcito!” she says, turning her tray of cigarettes to the side so she can lean over and kiss Wyn on both cheeks.

Wyn looks over me with a grin and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Nixy, meet Guadalupe,” he says, looking more amused than he should be.

“Call me Lupe,” she says, smiling at me. “Nice to meet you, princesa. Care for a cigarillo? On the house for a pretty girl like you.”

“No thanks, Loopy,” I say, looking pointedly at Wyn. He rewards me with a small laugh.

“How about a nice Cuban fatty then,” Lupe says, picking up a huge cigar, “to put a little hair on your chest, princesa.”

My mouth drops open and Wyn cracks up.

“I don’t think so,” I say, placing a hand over my chest, as if to protect it from Lupe’s cigar voodoo.

“I know, I give you a Romeo y Julieta,”