eXistenZ Read Free

said. The new Antenna Research game system is something you’re going to hear a lot more about. It’s called MetaFlesh.”
    He turned to the board and rapped out the letters of the word with the same flourish as before.
    “It’s written like this,” he said, tapping at the letters. “Get it right, from the start. One word. Capital M, capital F. MetaFlesh is what our new games are made from . . . the MetaFlesh Game-Pod, only from Antenna Research. It connects with any industry standard bioport.” He made a suggestive swerve of his hips and gave a knowing, sensual look at the crowd. “I realize you all have those bioports, or you wouldn’t be here at all . . .”
    They loved that. Possession of a bioport was clearly the entrance ticket to a whole range of sensual experiences, whose thrills could only be guessed at by those who had so far failed to get a bioport fitted.
    People like Ted Pikul, who had so far failed to get a bioport fitted.
    He glared at the crowd and tightened his grip on the electronic wand.
    Witt was continuing. “. . . MetaFlesh uses the standard port, then, but the connecting device itself is completely nonstandard. We call it . . .”
    He turned back to the chalkboard and wrote in large letters.
    “We call it an UmbyCord,” Witt said, and once more expressively tapped the letters. “One word, spelled like this. Capital U, capital C. Get the word right, because you’re gonna be hearing a lot about UmbyCord in the months ahead.”
    “Based on umbilical, right?” It was someone in the front row.
    “Right,” said Witt. “You’re getting the idea of what MetaFlesh and UmbyCord can do together. You’ll also find out, like I did, that you’ve never tried anything quite as much fun, or anything so revolutionary, as this. Tonight, Allegra and I are going to show you some of that. This demonstration is not only free of charge, but it is entirely without obligation to buy. However, we’re pretty confident you can all make up your own minds about that.”
    While they laughed again he turned with a theatrical flourish and indicated the two young assistants behind him and Allegra. They had finished laying out their weird devices on the table at the back of the platform and were now standing attentively at each end of it.
    In a loud voice Witt asked, “Are the MetaFlesh Game-Pods by Antenna Research ready?”
    “Yes, Mr. Levi!” said the first, and “Yes, Mr. Levi!” said the second.
    “And so that these good people here tonight might try the Antenna Research MetaFlesh Game-Pods, how many of the precious prototypes did we manage to bring with us?”
    “Twenty-one, Mr. Levi,” said the assistant at the end of the platform closest to Pikul. She was wearing, Pikul now noticed, a worried expression on her attractive face. Clearly her answer was not the one Witt had been expecting.
    His face clouded and he stepped across to the young woman.
    He said in a voice that did not carry, but that Pikul was able to hear, “Only twenty-one? I thought you brought an even two dozen.”
    “Yes, sir,” she replied softly. “But the first three we opened were . . . well, I don’t know how to say it.”
    “Nonfunctioning?”
    “More . . . unhealthy, sir.”
    “Are the others okay?”
    “We think we’re clean otherwise.”
    “Goddamn better be healthy,” Levi snarled, but as he turned back toward the audience his face was radiant once again. “Just checking, folks!” he cried. “We have indeed twenty-one, that’s one and twenty, prototype MetaFlesh Game-Pods all ready for action here tonight. That means that for our first-wave test enclave we need one and twenty volunteers. You don’t have to do much—you simply port in these slave units with the Game-Pod Goddess herself . . .”
    Allegra smiled shyly at this, but already the hall was in an uproar, everyone stretching forward, reaching, pushing against the edge of the platform, imploring Witt to choose them.
    Pikul took a step forward,