Spirits in the Wires by Charles De Lint Page A

to Christy first. I couldn’t just leave him hanging.”
    â€œAnd he so hates change.”
    â€œHe’s not that bad.”
    â€œWe could bring him with us,” I say, though I know that could be problematic. I can’t spend too much time with him or who knows what might happen.
    Saskia shakes her head.
    â€œOh, come on,” I say. “He’s not that stodgy. He’d jump at the chance to visit the otherworld.”
    â€œProbably,” she says. “But I think this is something I should be doing on my own. For myself. And because …” She hesitates, that far distance filling those blue eyes of hers again for a long moment. “Who knows what I’m going to find.”
    â€œNothing you could find could make him feel any different about you. Those Riddell boys are so true blue loyal they make dogs seem unreliable.”
    â€œI know. But still …”
    I wait to see if she’s going to finish her sentence.
    â€œBut still,” I agree when she doesn’t. “I understand. How about if I come by to pick you up midmorning, then? That’ll give you a chance to talk to him and get ready.”
    She gives me a nervous look.
    â€œIt’s funny,” she says. “This is something I’ve been thinking about for ages. But now that you’re offering me this easy way to actually do it, suddenly I don’t feel even remotely ready.”
    â€œThat’s okay, too,” I say. “Why don’t you think about it, talk it over with Christy, and decide in the morning. I’ll come by and you can tell me what you’ve decided.”
    Now it’s her turn to smile. “And you’ll knock on the door like a regular visitor?”
    â€œMaybe. We’ll have to see how I’m feeling. I do like the look on Christy’s face when I just step out of nowhere.”
    â€œYou’re incorrigible, aren’t you?”
    â€œI try to be.”
    We both have some more of our drinks, silence lying easily between us.
    â€œWhy do you want to do this?” Saskia asks after a few moments.
    â€œMaybe I’m just the helpful type,” I say.
    â€œOkay.”
    I can tell she doesn’t believe that.
    â€œOr maybe I just like the adventure of doing something new,” I add. “I’ve never been inside a computer program before. It’s got all the promise of an interesting experience.”
    â€œAnd the danger doesn’t worry you?”
    â€œTough,” I remind her. “Fierce.”
    â€œFoolhardy,” she adds.
    â€œProbably that, too.”

The World Wide Web Blues
    The puppet thinks:
    It’s not so much
    what they make me do
    as their hands inside me,
    â€”S ASKIA M ADDING,
    â€œPuppet” (
Mirrors,
1995)

Aaran Goldstein
    One week before Ckristiana and Saskia met in the Beanery Cafe and shared their life histories with each other, Aaran Goldstein was in Jackson Hart’s apartment, having a conversation with the young computer wizard.
    â€œThis is really strange,” Jackson said, leaning forward to study his monitor more closely.
    Aaran nodded. “I already know it’s a weird site,” he told Jackson, making an effort to keep the irritation he was feeling out of his voice. “The question is, can you hack into it?”
    Jackson was one of the paper’s programmers and computer trouble-shooters. Younger than
The Daily Journal’s
book editor and probably twice as smart, he was in his early twenties and lived on a diet of soda and junk food, but his coffee-coloured skin remained clear and he never put on any weight—all facts that annoyed Aaran to no end since it had taken him a strict regime of proper diets and exercise to finally get rid of the acne and flab that had plagued him all through his high school years. But while Jackson’s metabolism and higher intelligence annoyed Aaran, it didn’t stop him from taking advantage of Jackson’s