Jane Actually

unabated? Have I not the right to say what I want, to explain myself, my motives, my inspirations and my desires?
    Jane suddenly realized that her opinions had suddenly gone the other way, from sympathy toward those who had built their careers around her and then anger that she should be cajoled into a meek silence.
    She looked around her then. As always, the turmoil she felt went unnoticed by the lunchtime crowd in the pizzeria. She watched as the wait staff burst out through the swinging kitchen doors, almost hitting the table where the terminal and Jane sat alone.
    Or so she thought, because when she glanced at the display she saw that not only was she not alone, but there was a request to chat, which she answered.
    JaneAusten3 has entered the room
    JaneAusten3 says:
    Hello?
    bobkirkendorf says:
    Hi, just saw your username and I had to ask
    JaneAusten3 says:
    Pardon?
    bobkirkendorf says:
    OK, this seems silly now, but all the news about Jane Austen and this is NYC and I read she’s here working with Random House where I work and I was just wondering … is it you?
    Jane stared at the question, wondering how to answer. She had not logged into the terminal anonymously or privately. Instead she was listed as JaneAusten3 for all the world—or at least this one other user—to see.
    She was annoyed because Melody had finally convinced her of the need for discretion, especially if she had any hope of maintaining the privacy of her JaneAusten3 account.
    bobkirkendorf says:
    I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve worked with enough authors over the years to learn not to gush
    JaneAusten3 says:
    No, there is no offense. Yes, I am that Jane Austen, although I would appreciate your discretion
    As they were talking, Jane quickly Googled the man’s name and found that he did purport to work at Random House as an editorial assistant and that very surprisingly, he was living. She went back to the terminal’s list of users online and saw that he was directly connected to the terminal’s AfterNet field. The listing confirmed that he was living.
    JaneAusten3 says:
    Excuse me, you are in this restaurant?
    bobkirkendorf says:
    That’s me waving
    Jane looked around and saw a man a few tables away waving his arm. He was a young man with close cut black hair, wearing the uniform of the young, urban male, middle class: baggy cargo shorts and a T-shirt proclaiming his preference for the New York Mets baseball club.
    JaneAusten3 says:
    How is it that you are using the terminal directly?
    bobkirkendorf says:
    Well, I’m one of those freaks who can read an AfterNet field with no problem. It’s very handy because I have a disembodied girlfriend. She’s the one who turned me on to you.
    The man smiled apologetically at his admission. She could see that his lips did not move during their conversation and he was not typing so there was no question of his communicating through speech recognition. He apparently could project his thoughts as easily as Mary.
    JaneAusten3 says:
    You should be an avatar. Wait, did you say your girlfriend is disembodied?
    bobkirkendorf says:
    I know, crazy right? How’s it going to work out? Do you hope to have children? How do you even know she’s a woman? That’s all my parents and friends can say. And I don’t know if it’s going to work out, but Karen’s … I’m sorry. I’m venting.
    JaneAusten3 says:
    There’s no need to apologize. Please, may I join you at your table?
    bobkirkendorf says:
    I would be honored.
    Jane left her spot by the terminal and joined him, surprised at how weak the terminal’s field was at this distance. That he could still use the terminal was astounding.
    She quickly learned the young man was one of the editorial assistants who read through the “slush pile” of unsolicited manuscripts. His girlfriend had recommended he read her novels and she found delightful his comments about them, especially
Emma.
    bobkirkendorf says:
    I remember seeing Clueless on a movie date and I thought Emma was an airhead, so I was surprised when I read it that she’s not a materialistic valley girl. She’s just young is all, and we all think we know everything.
    They talked about an hour until Bob realized he’d taken an hour and a half lunch. Jane jokingly promised to vouch for him if he was in trouble in exchange for his promise that he would keep her username a secret.
    After he left, Jane remained for a time, thinking how much she enjoyed speaking with a fan. She realized, of