In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

more on clothes and furniture. He opened the door for the cops at Cill’s.”
    “And that . . . ah. Benny was alone with her. He could have finished her easily. Simply closed off her airway. It wouldn’t have taken much, wouldn’t have taken long.”
    “He got to her first, and stayed with her. Var couldn’t do anything about it. He expected to find her dead. It had to be a shock when Benny found a pulse, but he thinks on his feet—and he had to hope, to believe, she’d never make it through surgery. It surprised him, and pissed him off when she did. It showed, just for a second. He’s good, a good actor. Most sociopaths are, and all that role-playing’s worked for him over the years.”
    “And you believe he played the role of friend and partner, all these years.”
    “It may have even been true, as far as it goes, off and on. The business is successful, he’s making a good living with potential for more. It’ll be the more that pushed him, or gave him the excuse he wanted. And the fact Bart could and did overrule him. He’s already edging himself into a leadership role at U-Play. Taking Cill out just cements it. Benny doesn’t want to run that show. He wants to keep doing what he’s doing, so he’s not a threat but an asset. Cill could run it, and Benny would side with her. Remove her, and the field’s clear.”
    “All right, say I’m convinced you’re right. How? I’ll agree he could easily have arranged to go in with Bart, it’s trickier with Cill as Benny claims he watched her go in, and Var walked on.
    I suppose he could have circled around, entered another way, intercepted her before she went in the apartment, but—”
    “He was never in either apartment, not at the time of the murder or the attack.”
    “Well then, how did he manage it? By remote control?”
    “In a way. Okay, engaging that open mind you carry around with you, the hologram did it.”
    “Eve, even a flaw in the system—which we haven’t found, couldn’t decapitate a player.”
    “Not the system. The hologram. Bart fought the Black Knight, and the Black Knight won. It cut off Bart’s head, and in whatever scenario Cill played, it pushed her, or caused her to fall.”
    Roarke took another sip of coffee. “Let me understand you. You’re suggesting that a holographic image, which is essentially light and shadow, attempted murder and committed it.”
    “But it’s not just light and shadows. Neuro- and nanotech have advanced, and the images produced in holo-programs act and react, according to that program. They appear three-dimensional, appear to have substance. The player’s senses are involved and engaged.”
    “It’s an illusion.”
    “Right. But with clarity. And, some hold the theory that the wave front could be enhanced further, and the beams increased in power, and remarried to complex VR—”
    “Results in burnout and system failure,” he finished. “You simply can’t create actual substance in holo. It’s replicated imagery.”
    “You wouldn’t have to. But if you found a way to get around the system failure and increase those beams, the enhanced wave front, to channel that increase, you might also increase the power stream of that light. A kind of current that, okay, not actual substance, but an electronic replication of that substance. A kind of laser.”
    “It’s . . . hmm.” He set the coffee aside, rose to go over and edge a hip onto her desk. “Interesting.”
    “The jolts you get in the game. Tied in to that illusion of contact in, say, a sword fight with the Black Knight. But, if you’ve found a way to do this enhancement, to take a jump on the tech trampoline, the sword could, conceivably, cut, slash, sever. Or the current could—in the shape of the holo it’s programmed to produce. Or in Cill’s case, replicate an impact where those currents, or whatever the hell you’d call them, could inflict the same damage as what they’d been programmed to replicate.”
    When he said nothing, she shifted. “Listen, laser scalpels cut. Laser blasters, well, blast. Why can’t light imagery—essentially—be manipulated to slice and bash?”
    “It would run hot—should run hot enough to shut down the system. To fry it for that matter. But . . .”
    “How come all your hotshot R&D people aren’t all over this?”
    “Oh, we have some toying with it. But the fact is, on a practical level it’s not marketable. You can hardly produce games where the players can go around chopping