master said that? Then again, probably none—doesn’t sound very Zen. Anyway, machinery has a tendency to turn on you if you don’t respect it—that’s been my experience. I’d sooner play it safe.”
He waved a hand and all the bright documents hanging in the air vanished, leaving Delia with an unobstructed view of the big view-screen that also existed in Dev’s private office. Right now it was showing a view from some skyscraper in New York. Far below, a flow of traffic speckled yellow with cabs was pouring by, while pedestrians under umbrellas hustled past, the whole vista being hammered by an unsympathetic rain. “So,” Dev said. “Let’s think about where to go. You’ve seen the list of Macrocosms, of course. And probably a selection of the Microcosms. But lists can be pretty dry. I might be able to help you track down something congenial. Do you have a favorite time period? A favorite place? A story you remember from childhood that you were fond of?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, wondering if this was some kind of Rorschach test, and determined not to give him anything useful. But Dev’s eyes widened, and then he laughed.
“Oh, no,” he said. “You think this is some weird kind of analytical tool! Like we’re trying to dig out your deepest darkest secrets and then slip you subliminal ads for Deep Dark Chocolate Cornflakes or something.” And he roared with laughter.
Delia made a face, annoyed that her thoughts had been that obvious. “It’s a fear that a lot of people have these days,” she said. “Online marketers have become so sneaky, so sophisticated—”
“Delia,” Dev said. “I have no desire whatsoever to psychoanalyze you. You want some of that, talk to my dad—he knows lots of nice shrinks back at Penn. All of whom dumped him because they said he was the worst client they’d ever seen: not that they don’t still happily drink his whiskey when he invites them out here and tries to pump them for what they really think of him.” Dev snickered, then got control of himself. “I’m sorry. Seriously, just pick a historical period if you like; that should be neutral enough. Who could tell anything about you from that?”
“Well . . .” she said, and pondered for a moment, uncertain.
“Tell you what,” Dev said. “If you like, while you’re thinking, I’ll pick one. You’re busy trying to figure me out; let me give you a hand. But I need something first.”
He reached into the air and plucked something out. It was a name badge of the cheap sticky HELLO, MY NAME IS type. The name apparently scrawled in some kind of Sharpie marker on the blank part of the badge, in cockeyed capitals, said RUFUS T. FIREFLY.
He slapped it onto his shirt. Delia looked at this, bemused. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.
Dev wandered over to his virtual desk and looked it over one last time, plainly seeing something there that wasn’t displaying for Delia. “That I’m occupied with business,” he said, “and that I’d prefer my players to leave me alone for the time being.”
Delia put her eyebrows up at that. Dev Logan’s face was everywhere these days, as instantly recognizable as a film star’s: if he was going to walk around in his worlds undisguised, it seemed highly unlikely that his fans and users were going to let him be. The groupies in particular had an aggressive reputation. “You think they’re really going to do that?” she said.
Dev shrugged. “Let’s see. Meanwhile, let’s walk down to the Ring and I’ll think of someplace to go along the way.”
He waved a hand and the floor went translucent, so that Delia discovered that the two of them appeared to be standing high above the central square in Omnitopia City, which was flooded with bright sunlight. “Whoa,” she said, briefly thrown off by the vivid reality of the illusion.
“I like living over the shop,” Dev said. “Come on.”
Part of the floor vanished, replaced by stairs leading down to the ground level of the city below. From here the true apparent size of the Ring of Elich was striking, and probably intended to be so. It’s all about effect with this guy . . . Yet it was hard not to be impressed as the two of them came down to the cobblestones and paused there. The expertise, and yes, the art that had gone into this place, in its older meaning of artifice, was considerable. Delia looked down at the