Matt Reilly Stories Read Free Page B

they
are in another world.’
    A
journalist asked, ‘What do you say, Mr. Hughes? How’s it feel to be going back
to World War II?’
    ‘I
shall reserve my judgment.’
    Another
reporter called to Laura: ‘Hey Laura! What’s your uncle think about you
participating in this?’
    Laura
turned. ‘My uncle has always supported American innovation. He’s thrilled. As
for me, I’m ready to be a superstar.’
    ‘Okay,
everyone!’ Ellis called. ‘It’s time for our celebrity guests to head off on
their journeys!’
    At
that moment, the technician standing over Mitch switched on the headpiece—and
for a fraction of a second, Mitch felt a strange buzzing in his head. He felt
instantly tired, drowsy. Then darkness overcame him.
     
     
    Land
of the Dinosaurs
     
    When
he opened his eyes, he was in another place, another time.
    He
was standing on a modern helipad on a hilltop overlooking a verdant river
valley. A hovercopter stood beside him, rotors turning.
    A
polite (computer-generated) pilot invited him aboard.
    ‘Hello,
Mr. Raleigh, I am PI-5A26X, and I shall be your guide and pilot program for
today.’
    ‘Great.
What was your name again? PI-5A2…’
    ‘PI-5A26X.
My programmers have not yet given me a formal name yet.’
    ‘How
about I just call you Pi.’
    ‘Very
good, sir.’
    Within
moments they were zooming low over the treetops, scanning the plains and
riverbeds. Plains and riverbeds that were filled with—
    Dinosaurs.
Lots of dinosaurs.
    ‘Mother
of God…’ Mitch breathed.
     
     
    Global
Superstar
     
    Laura
stepped out of the limo onto the red carpet—and was instantly assaulted by a
lightning storm of flashbulbs.
    The
red carpet led to the Odeon Theatre in Leicester Square in London, and her face
was on every poster in the square. People everywhere were shouting her name.
    Photographers:
‘Laura! Laura! Over here!’
    Journalists:
‘Laura! How does it feel to have the number one movie and the number one album
in America!’
    Awesome,
Laura thought. Just awesome.
     
     
    Austin,
We Have a Problem…
     
    As
the media watched the monitors in awe, a technician came alongside Tad Ellis
and whispered,
    ‘Sir.
We might have a problem.’
    ‘What
is it?’
    ‘We’re
getting some strange synaptic readings on Mr. Hughes’          monitor.’
    They
came to the computer monitoring Humbert Hughes, where they saw him in a command
room, directing Operation Overlord, the Allied invasion of Europe in World War
II.
    The
tech said, ‘Have a look at his synaptic pulse-rate. It’s slowed to sub-normal
levels.’
    ‘He’s
going into a deep-state coma…’ Ellis said softly.
    ‘He’s
going into a very deep-state coma, sir. Mr. Hughes must have taken some
kind of sedative before he went under, and a large amount of it.’
    ‘He
drugged himself? Why?’
    ‘I
have no idea. But with his synaptic pulse operating as such low levels, we
can’t extract Mr. Hughes from the program, not without causing serious brain
damage. He’s essentially locked himself inside the program—’
    Suddenly,
insistent beeps began trilling all around the room.
    ‘Holy
shit! Laura’s synaptics are dropping…’
    ‘So
are Raleigh’s…’
    ‘Oh
my God! Everyone’s pulse-rates are dropping! They’re all going into deep
comas!’
     
     
    Humbert
Hughes’s Note
     
    The
police would find the note in Humbert Hughes’s apartment the next day.
    It
read:
     
    Dear
World,
    You
weary me. Nay, you have finally worn me down…with your
astonishing adoration of the mediocre.
    Great
art is ignored. Great literature is overlooked.
    What
is Beethoven when you have American Pie. Why appreciate
the opera when you can have Jim Carrey doing fart jokes. The world has
become a utopia for cretins.
    And
I have finally tired of it.
    So,
today, I go to a better place, where the world is mine, to shape as I please. I’d apologise to the President for stealing his
niece, but the President is an ass.
    Good-bye
cruel world. Wallow in your