The Future of Sex (The Complete 12-Book Omnibus) - Paperback

According to Parker Barnes, the device in front of Chloe was called a “canvas.” A strange name, considering it looked exactly like a portable Crossbrace terminal. It looked, in fact, like the ancient laptop computers from before the fall that her grandfather had kept in the storage area below his basement steps, deluded that he might someday need the data inside. 

But it wasn’t just another terminal, Chloe felt sure. Barnes had stressed that it was important she keep the canvas guarded and never let anyone see. He’d not only extended her hotel reservation in District Zero, but had moved her to a different hotel and then called to verify her room’s security. Barnes had told Chloe about the canvas’s tracker, and how it could be destroyed from a distance if required — not just erased, but actually destroyed. 

So yes … whatever this “canvas” was, it was certainly more than a terminal.

Barnes had told Chloe she was only receiving the canvas because she’d done so well in her interview and auditions. He said O was considering her for a very special position — something that included the spa job she’d originally wanted, but came with more as well — and they needed her to understand. 

I understand, Chloe had said.

No, you don’t, he’d replied with a straight face. You can’t. Nobody can. 

That had been one of the stranger conversations of Chloe’s life, right up there with her break-up discussion with Brad, but for decidedly different reasons. 

She looked at the simple black device, wondering if her life was in danger. Barnes had said it was newer than new, that even O hadn’t yet converted its private conference room to the fresh technology in front of her. 

It speaks to The Beam, he’d said. 

When Chloe asked what that meant, Barnes had offered his inscrutable smile and said he was sure she’d figure it out. 

Chloe sat on the floor in the middle of her now-lavish hotel room, legs crossed, ankles pressing into the surprisingly soft carpeting. She looked up, taking in her much-improved view of the District Zero spires. The room’s entire south wall was nothing but windows. They could be blacked out if you wanted dark, or made one-way if you preferred privacy and a view.

She opened the featureless canvas: no keys, no apparent screen, no touchpad, no power switch. Nothing. Chloe wondered what it did. Barnes had implied it was a kind of terminal even if it wasn’t strictly a terminal, so Chloe assumed she’d use it to access the Crossbrace network. 

But then what? Surf vidstreams? Go shopping? Watch holos? He hadn’t given her a visor or a headset or gloves. O was, of course, the dominant sex channel on Crossbrace, and this thing would probably let her immerse in the most elite of O’s online simulations. But how could she do it without some sort of rig? And, in the end, why would she want to? She was drained after today’s acrobatics. She wasn’t looking for satisfaction, and O couldn’t be looking for Chloe to prove herself from a distance after doing it so thoroughly in person … right?

She touched the thing where the keyboard would normally be. Nothing.

She touched the screen area. Nothing. 

She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. She didn’t even know if it was on. There wasn’t an indicator light or switch. Barnes hadn’t given her a power cord. But that didn’t matter, seeing as there was no place to plug anything in.

Chloe closed the canvas. Opened and then shook it. 

She could fire up the hotel room’s terminal and search for the device on Crossbrace, but if it was the secret Barnes had suggested, she’d surely come up dry. He’d said the Quark corporation provided access to O under the strictest of confidentiality — that Noah West himself had signed off on the nondisclosure agreement. Apparently The Beam (whatever that was) hadn’t even really been used yet at O, at least not beyond experimentation.