CHAPTER ONE
IF IT AIN’T broke, don’t fix it. As philosophies go, that might seem a little on the dull side. But I see plenty of action. I need more excitement in my life like I need a recreational colonoscopy.
Too bad the powers that be—or whoever is running my electronics—don’t share my pragmatic point of view. Every time I turn around, my passwords need changing, my operating system is no longer supported, and my clocks are all blinking twelve. But at least my favorite app had been spared.
Until now.
I perched on the arm of the couch and glared at Mood Blaster. This tactic might not sound like it should work, but since the app talked to the sensor in my watch, it was able to measure my heart rate, body temp, and general level of pissed-offedness.
No good. Even my state of extreme mental duress wasn’t enough to make the damn thing roll back its update.
I’d never considered myself a video game person—too much lingo to learn, too little coordination, and not nearly enough naked men—but Mood Blaster was different. The concept was simple…because the game had been designed for children. But that didn’t mean it didn’t work. First, you’d pick from a range of simple emoji faces to choose a desired state of mind, from sleepyto mellow to calm to alert. A tap on one of the faces brought you to a nonthreatening little game of navigating a rocket ship through a field of space junk. Think “Asteroids” with cuter graphics and no heart-pounding music.
Binaural beats pulsed through headphones to calibrate brainwaves while biofeedback data fed in from a smartwatch sensor. Brainwave entrainment is a technique that sounds made up, until you try it. Most people chase alpha waves for relaxation. But I found they gave my psychic mojo a valuable edge.
The app wasn’t terribly accurate, at least according to Dr. K, back in the lab. But it worked for me.
At least…it used to.
Now, instead of my usual range of emoji choices, I encountered a cartoon goldfish named Blip. His bowl was a helmet filled with water and a couple of articulated arms attached. Space was supposed to be cold, wasn’t it? But Blip didn’t appear to be frozen, judging by the way he bobbled side to side, encouraging me to play the “new mini-game.”
I sighed. Long, and loud.
Yes, I’d come to terms with Mood Blaster being targeted to the preliterate age category. But this fish definitely had to go.
I was glaring at the carp when Jacob came home with a bagful of Korean takeout. I knew better than to expect ribs, a.k.a. “heart attack on a plate.” But it smelled like I was at least in for some fried noodles.
All I had to do was get rid of the Blip thing….
“Vic.” The tone was edgy, like Jacob had called my name three, four times. Which, in retrospect, he technically had. I looked up. “Your food’s getting cold.”
When had he gotten a chance to slide it onto a plate?
I plunked down at the table and proceeded to start shoveling down my dinner. Jacob didn’t comment on my earbuds. His eyes were on his phone, with a sharp crease between his brows. “My annual performance report is in.”
I made a noise around a mouthful of noodle.
He said, “It doesn’t mean anything, obviously. How do you even quantify what we do when we prevent disasters instead of mopping them up? It’s the same every year. Nobody reads it, nobody cares…but it still goes in my file.”
From the corner of my eye, Blip bobbed eagerly against a sea of stars, trying to tempt me into the mini-game.
Jacob scrolled. “Case resolution rate: good. Reporting timeliness: good. Not excellent, mind you. Just…good. What, do they expect me to write up my conclusions before the investigations are even done?”
I swiped my phone with a greasy forefinger to get rid of Blip’s imploring gaze, and my screen lit up with a psychedelic rainbow of colors.Collect the Floatalongs and guide them to the Mood-O-Sphere.
Great. And now the game was running. As Jacob’s fork clacked aggressively against his plate, little candy-colored puffballs with cute button eyes poofed into existence all around Blip. Some rocked side to side. Some fluttered. And some were definitely giving me a “come on, dumbass, get with the program”look. I gave it a swipe of annoyance, and the Floatalongs scattered.
Blip was not pleased.
Try smiling, the phone helpfully suggested.
Yeah. That wasn’t gonna happen.
I might not know this particular game, but I knew what the app could measure. Behind the cheerful kid-music, my earbuds were going whub-whub-whub. I focused in on that beat and stopped clenching, and when I did, the Floatalongs gradually drifted toward the goldfish. And soon, they’d formed a ragged line behind it.
Good job!my phone flashed. Jacob wasn’t the only one whose performance was being evaluated. An arrow appeared, urging me to the right.Now find the Snugglebay.
Was I supposed to move it with my mind? Oh. I could touch it now. I tapped the arrow and the little Floatalongs did a happy popcorn behind the goldfish….
