Bo took a deep breath as Ellie, unseen, watched. “I hate this, you know?” “You don’t have to,” the technician said. “Just use a screen.” “She’ll ignore me. Especially today.” “Headset?” “God, no. Those things kill me. No, I should be used to this by now.” Bo rubbed the back of her head. Ellie knew there was an uplink port there, disguised as a birthmark. Bo’d often complained about how queasy needling into the headnet made her. “Do it.” Ellie killed the feed and took a millisecond to tidy up, pulling herself together for company. The world flashed red three times, indicating a new user was logging in. When Bo appeared, she was in mid-sentence. “—remember to close my eyes.” “Did you forget again, Bo?” Ellie soared past, flapping her arms as if they had anything to do with her weightlessness. Most users would close their eyes when needling in. Bo, somehow, always forgot. “Every time. How’re you today?” “Antsy. Excited. Delirious.” “I’m sorry you can’t be with them.
