8
The 2D in the MEC personnel file showed a sallow faced youth in a black t-shirt that hung on his bony frame like a wind-blown sheet finding purchase on a sapling. The eyes, dark and a little unnerving in their evident intelligence, gleamed from behind a weeping fringe of lank dark hair.
“Off the charts IQ and problem-solving abilities,” Janet said. We’d perched ourselves on a bench overlooking one of the ornamental lakes, MEC security lingering nearby. “No surviving family, all lost in the war. According to Ms McKinnon. She misses him terribly. Deeply felt maternal feelings, I’d say.”
“Van Pelt said she brought him in,” I said. “He was a freelance sim-coder for Yang-side arcades. Big numbers on the download sites, hefty royalties. He was already rich before he got here. So why’d he ta
