going through my videos for footage of Marco and Polo," he says. "There's plenty of cute stuff from when they were young; I'm not so sure about the more recent stuff. Or do we need heartrending stuff?"
"We should talk about what would work best," says Ana. "I'll post a message on the forum asking everyone else."
This reminds Derek of something. "By the way, I got a call yesterday that might help us out. It's kind of a long shot, though."
"Who was it?"
"Do you remember the Xenotherians?"
"Those digients that were supposed to be aliens? Is that project still going on?"
"Sort of." He explains that he was contacted by a young man named Felix Radcliffe, who is one of the last participants in the Xenotherian project. Most of the original hobbyists gave up years ago, exhausted by the difficulty of inventing an alien culture from scratch, but there remains a small group of devotees who have become almost monomaniacal. From what Derek has been able to determine, most of them are unemployed and rarely leave their bedrooms in their parents' homes; they live their lives in Data Mars. Felix is the only member of the group willing to initiate contact with outsiders.
"And people call us fanatics," says Ana. "So why did he contact you?"
"He heard we were trying to get Neuroblast ported, and wants to help. He recognized my name because I was the one who designed the avatars for them."
"Lucky you," she says, smiling, and Derek makes a face. "Why would he care if Neuroblast gets ported? I thought the whole point of Data Mars was to keep the Xenotherians isolated."
"Originally it was, but now he's decided they're ready to meet human beings, and he wants to conduct a first-contact experiment. If Data Earth were still running, he'd let the Xenotherians send an expedition to the main continents, but that's no longer an option. So Felix is in the same boat as us; he wants Neuroblast ported so his digients can enter Real Space."
"Well...I guess I can understand that. And you said he might be able to help with funding?"
"He's trying to generate interest among anthropologists and exobiologists. He thinks they'll want to study the Xenotherians so much they'll pay for the port."
Ana looks dubious. "Would they actually pay for something like that?"
"I doubt it," says Derek. "It's not as if the Xenotherians are actually aliens. I think Felix would have better luck with game companies who need aliens to populate their worlds, but it's his decision. I figure that as long as he doesn't approach any of the people we're contacting, he won't hurt our chances, and there's a possibility he can help."
"But if he's as awkward as he sounds, how likely is it he can persuade anyone?"
"Well, it wouldn't be with his salesmanship. He's got a video of the Xenotherians that he shows anthropologists, to whet their appetites. He let me see a little bit of it."
"And?"
He shrugs, raises his hands. "I could've been looking at a hive of weedbots for all that I understood."
Ana laughs. "Well, maybe that's good. Maybe the more alien they are, the more interesting they'll be."
Derek laughs too, imagining the irony: after all the work they did at Blue Gamma to make digients appealing, what if it turns out that the alien ones are what people are more interested in?
----
Chapter Seven
Another two months go by. The user group's attempts at fund-raising don't meet with much success; the charitably inclined are growing fatigued of hearing about natural endangered species, let alone artificial ones, and digients aren't nearly as photogenic as dolphins. The flow of donations has never risen above a trickle.
The stress of being confined to Data Earth is definitely taking a toll on the digients; the owners try to spend more time with them to keep them from getting bored, but it's no substitute for a fully populated virtual world. Ana also tries to shield Jax from the problems surrounding the Neuroblast port, but he's aware of it nonetheless. One day when she comes home