A child materialized suddenly in Ansen's field of view. Boy or girl, it was impossible to tell. The figure floated in a cross-legged position, a meter or so above the ground, face buried in the arms that were crossed over its knees. Clothed in a yellow glow that obscured all but its head, bare feet, and hands, the child looked about twelve years old. An odd choice for a persona, Ansen thought-assuming this was a persona, and not some killer IC trying to lure him in close enough to fry his deck.
Then the icon raised it head, and Ansen saw a perfect cherub face that was washed with silver tears. The face of an angel.
"I'm sorry," the child said in a barely audible whisper. "I didn't mean to-"
Ansen leaned forward to catch the words-and could only assume later than he must have extended his data gloves beyond the pickup range of his deck's sensor board. Once again, the goggles went blank. The child's voice was replaced with a hiss of static.
"Drek!" Ansen shouted, frantically flailing his gloved hands over the sensor without effect. "What now?"
He lifted the goggles away from his eyes and stared at the CT-3000 Vista. This time, the flatscreen display was dead-not a flicker of life on its dull black screen. But the sensor board was still illuminated, even if it wasn't picking up his commands.
Frag. He'd done everything he could think of, and the stupid clunker had let him down again. There was only one thing left to try.
Ansen balled his fist and grinned ruefully. Why not? It had always worked on his parents' telecom unit…
He slammed his fist down on a corner of the computer.
The flatscreen flickered to life.