Clouds were the only view Mac had from his window seat in First Class aboard the Delta Boeing 757. The woman beside him, whose perfume had set his eyes to watering while waiting at the gate, talked incessantly - oblivious to the fact that she had received no response from her seat mate since take-off.

      "...and he was such a nice boy. It's so hard to find nice boys nowadays. Most of them are either rude or they have too much metal stuck in their faces - though my cousin's boy Frank, he has several studs in his tongue but he's just so smart. Straight A's in school. Says 'yes ma'am' and 'no ma'am'. Though when he talks to me I find my attention just drawn to those hoops and studs...banging against his teeth like that..."

      Mac nodded now and then, though his attention was drawn to the laptop situated in its case beneath the seat in front of him. Just before boarding, he'd recieved an email - so large he feared he'd be left behind for waiting on it to finish downloading.

      Interestingly enough, the file had an encoded Rote to be viewed as VR. Luckily he had a small portable VR unit in his computer. This unit wouldn't allow him to connect to the Web, but it would work for this. He hoped. Just before boarding he'd pulled his head-set from his carry-on, once again relieved he had taken the time to re-engineer the thing to look like a pair of Oakley sunglasses. Once the Captain gave the signal and the seatbelt sign went off, he had every intention of settling himself into the message.

      That is, as long as he could divert this woman's attention to anything but himself.

      "...and then there was that awful movie -you know, with the computer people? Matrix or something like that, and he started wearing trench coats and taking karate lessons. Oh and I noticed you have several of those gadget-like things like in the movie. I saw you fiddle'n with one of them while we waited to board. What exactly do you do?"

      It was a moment before he realized that the woman had asked him a direct question.

      Tearing his gaze from the window, he looked into the her deepset eyes. There was a hint of something there, a glint or sparkle. Of what, he couldn't be sure. She was a Sleeper, but there was something very much like white-noise that surrounded her. And it hadn't been her continuous talking.

      With a smile he reached in his pocket and pulled out his Treo 300, a combination cell phone and PDA - and so much more. In his pocket rested three smart cards, each marked with his own code for indentification. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. What did you say?"

      "Well, I was being a bit rude. My name is Winnie Walberg." She crossed her right hand over chest and offered it to him.

      As a member of the Virtual Adept Tradition, he could sense the use of electronic devices, mechanical or bio-mechanical. A quick scan of the rings on her fingers showed no device or traps. He transferred his Treo into his left hand and placed his right hand within hers. Her skin was leathery and damp. "Mac."

      "Mac what?" she hesitated for only a second. "Just Mac? No last name?"

      He decided that giving his last name as McGyver would only give her more fuel for conversation. He guessed she was a closet Phoenix Foundation fan. "Mac...Cooper." It felt odd saying his old name. Though he doubted this woman would remember it once she left the plane.

      "That's a nice name." She released his hand and her gaze traveled upward to focus on his hair. "You mean for your hair to stick up like that?"

      Mac gave her a tight smile. "Yes ma'am. I do." He was aware his hair cut was a bit out of the norm. Trent Cole, Mac's hairdresser and VA Mentor, possessed a style that bordered on anime. What had that kid called me in the store the other day? Some character from Dragon Ball Z? Probably doesn't help that I only brushed my teeth before leaving my home and left my comb on the sink. I'm sure my hair's more than just sticking out.

     He glanced down at his jeans, white shirt and black suit jacket. I look more like one half of the Hardy Boys.

     "And you look familiar..."

      Mac's internal alarm rang softly. He raised his eyebrows and slowly removed his Rayband shades. "Familiar?" he calmly slid them inside the pocket of his coat jacket and then pulled out his OakleyVRs.

      "Like an actor." She snapped her fingers. "I know! That guy from that death movie."

      Mac pursed his lips and felt himself relax. An actor. She's only comparing you to an actor. Relax, Mac - she's harmless. He had to admit the strange message from the Hollow One had unnerved him more than he realized. I'm seeing the enemy everywhere.

      "Death movie?" He held the glasses in his hands.

      "You know...that old guy's about to die, but Death decides to take a vacation - that's it! Death Takes A Holiday." She frowned. The wrinkles around her mouth deepened. "But they called its something else."

      He knew which movie and he knew which actor she was thinking of. It had been one of Maouri's favorites. She too had said with the right look, he resembled a famous actor. "The movie was Meet Joe Black and the actor was Brad Pitt."

      Winnie's smile stretched across the width of her face. "Yes...it's amazing. You're so similar...only I think he looks younger. And there's something different..." she squinted at him. "Something around your eyes. They're the strangest green I've ever seen."

      Don't look too hard, Winnie Walberg. You might not like what's looking back.

      Mac blinked. Where had that thought come from? And why? He'd had quite a few of those lately. Angry thoughts, full of spurned sentiment and anguish. Trent explained it off as simply a reaction to their mounting frustration with the Digital Web. Lately Mac had had to be less than cordial while walking the Net. There were too many punks online - those that believed they could own a piece of the web. Some were Awakened and lost, others were simply Sleepers who found the anonymity of the Net enticing. Here they could be what they weren't in real life. MCGYVER had had to become more than just an information worm. He'd had to grow a thick hide inside of the Virtual World.

      Whereas on the outside, he was still a bit timid, quiet, and reserved.

      There had been no sign of his father since the morning of Maouri's death and his subsequent Awakening. Mac had at times detected familiar vibrations of the Technocracy on the web. Learning his father was a Progenitor - a Pentax Director - had come as a low point in Mac's recovery from injury and training as a Virtual Adept.

      "Definately in your eyes. And I'm sure he'd never wear his hair like that."

      A bell tinged, and the flight attendant's voice came over the speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the seatbelt sign. All electronic devices except for cell phones and personal pagers may now be used..."

      There was his cue. Mac pulled a smart card from his pocket, checked his code on the side. It slid into the top of his Treo easily. He thumbed three keys to launch the Rote...and...

      Winnie sighed and sat back, her interest in him forgotten.

      Their female flight attendant came by and asked Winnie a question. The attendant's gaze never touched Mac. After she came back with a soda for Winnie, Mac raised his hand to her. "Miss?" He needed to check the Rote's potency.

      She blinked at him, her eyes unfocused. A smile slowly tugged at the corners of her mouth, though he knew it was there only to cover her embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't even see you there. C-can I get you something?"

      "Just a water please."

      She nodded and moved away. By the time she reached the galley, she would have no memory of him or what she'd gone there for.

      Mac bent forward and retrieved his 12'inch ibook from its case. He pulled down the seat tray, opened the laptop. The machine's screen came up to show a beautiful slide-show of scenes in Hawaii. His sight peered through the pictures to the program beneath. The exotic picture show would continue to run while he experienced the downloaded message.

      With a glance at the quiet Winnie, Mac slid the wire thin cord from the left ear shaft of the Oakleys, then plugged it into the special port he'd designed on the left side of the ibook. He slid the glasses on and pushed his seat back in a reclining position.

      Anyone uneffected by his "invisibility" Rote, would see a passenger reclined in his seat, shades on, listening to music. But for him, if anyone did notice him and attempted to approach him, the alarms built into the Rote would signal him - especially to any danger.

      He relaxed as his hard drive took him inside.

Back to Journal