Socket 1-3 - The Socket Greeny Saga Read Free Page B

I’d
closed my eyes. The shadow was no longer there. And the ground
continued to shake. The snow vibrated and the statue-like sims of
Chute and Streeter shook, too. I no long felt connected with them
or the rest of the environment.
    On the horizon, the ground broke open and
snow spilled inside a widening crevasse that snaked towards me,
ripping the ground like God had grabbed both ends of the world and
decided to pull it apart. I watched the rip race under my feet. The
falling sensation was back in my stomach because this time I was
falling for real, down into the empty blackness that tasted like
essence, that sixth sense, only this time it tasted steely and
hard.
    Blackness was all there was. No sim. Just
falling.
    I felt the hot needles of my sweaty skin
sticking to the armrests of the study hall chair. I opened my eyes
back in my skin. A silver ball hovered in front of me. Its surface
gleamed like polished metal with a red eyelight beneath the
surface. “The three of you must follow,” the lookit said.
    I was firmly planted in the seat, but still
felt the falling.
     
     
     
    D I S C O V E R Y
     
Perp Alley
     
    “Justin Heyward Street,” the lookit
announced.
    “You know, middle names are so unnecessary,”
Streeter said, sitting forward and rubbing the feeling back into
his face.
    “Anna Nancy Shuester,” the same lookit
announced. Chute quickly did the same as Streeter.
    “Socket Pablo Greeny.” Its red eyelight shot
right into my eyes. “The three of you are to follow.”
    Honestly, I still wasn’t sure where I was. I
gripped the armrest like my chair had been dropped from a cargo
plane. I was still trying to return to my skin. I felt out of
sorts, like half of my awareness was somewhere else. Back in my
sim?
    The lookit wasn’t going to wait. It was
about to call security when the room suddenly erupted. All the
virtualmoders sat up, groaning and cursing, ripping the discs from
behind their ears. The lookit’s eyelight was spinning, recording
the hundreds of study hall sound infractions. It blazed around the
room trying to get control, then called for security and returned
to the front row. The substitute teacher was watching a music
video, looked up and closed his laptop.
    “The three of you must follow,” the lookit
repeated.
    I could barely feel my legs when I sat
forward. Chute hooked her finger around mine and led me up the
steps like the living dead. The queens, rats, burners, gearheads,
jocks and goths and anyone else that couldn’t thought-project into
virtualmode looked up from their laptops and tablets and stared at
us. Virtualmoders were all back in their skin.
    “Did you do this, Streeter?” someone
shouted. “Did you crash virtualmode?”
    “Psssht. Noooo.” He wasn’t guilty, not this
time. Streeter walked faster as wads of paper came flying.
     
    Perp Alley consisted of five plastic chairs
against the wall. A heavy door with wire-imbedded glass was across
from the plastic chairs and behind that were the offices of the
Dean of Boys, the Dean of Girls, various assistant principals, and
the principal. This trip had the Dean of Boys stamped all over
it.
    I was feeling better after walking down the
hall. The lookits wouldn’t let us talk and that was all right, it
gave me some time to think. Streeter had already asked what the
hell happened. What happened? I was haunted by a ghost, that’s
all. Oh, did I mention it was my dead dad? Yeah. Oh, and I stopped
time and connected with the entire universe and experienced a
moment of spiritual oneness. Any questions?
    Once we sat, I told them about the shadow,
that time seemed to stop and the world split open, that it must’ve
been some special weapon the Rimers set off, and blah, blah, blah,
I don’t know what happened, either. Crazy shit happens all the time
in virtualmode.
    “The world split open?” Streeter asked. I
described the black crevasse. “That’s serious, Socket. I mean, if
you fell inside that rip you could be