The door to her room closed behind me with a soft but final click. I paused in the dimness of the corridor, leaning my hand against the cold wall. Her voice still rang in my ears as she asked: "What if we can't stop? If the game becomes a reality?"
My own answer is "Then we'll deal with it later" now he seemed incredibly naive, childish. Why should "later" have been easier? "Later" will mean either our victory or total defeat. And in any of these scenarios, we will have to deal not with the game, but with what we will discover in ourselves while we play it.
I went down to the office, moving automatically. My legs felt heavy, as if they were filled with lead. The adrenaline rush of finding the bug, of her phone call, of having to make instant decisions, had subsided, leaving a wadded-up,
