Base Metal (The Sword Book 2)

were more vibrant, the scents more poignant. The glass tabletop gleamed. His toes dug through the gentle massage of the carpet-threads. He could hear, could feel, the snap-pop of the logs on the fire.
He was alive.
He stood from his chair, felt the shift in his clothes. In this realm, he wore only the finest. He turned to his mirror, checked himself before taking the call. He did cut a better figure on the net. He wasn't vain enough to go for a full-body lift, but was definitely his best-self, with a decent tan, a little tone, and just a dab of cologne. Why wouldn't he be an improved self, when he could edit the foundations of reality?
"Giving yourself a show?" Lauren asked. The mask sat in her chair, wineglass tipped insolently over her fingers. She quipped, "I think Narcissus desires his pond back."
Firenze flicked, and the mirror was gone. He answered, "Just making sure I look good for the meeting."
"If you're going for seduction, I don't believe you align with Professor Neland's preferred demographic. But feel free to try."
"Ha ha." he replied. "I'm trying to land somewhere between 'dressed for the part' and 'not trying too hard'. This could be a big break."
She gave an aside-glance, which meant she was deep-scanning some database. She said, "I believe I can anticipate his ideal personality-presentation fashion schema, based on his activity history and applied heuristics. Should I prepare a wardrobe for you?"
Firenze sighed. He asked, "Did you just hack his history?"
"No." She answered. The too-innocent look on her face told him everything he needed. He fixed her with his best 'I don't believe you' stare until she admitted, "I scanned corporate databases which had already profiled him, then sampled their anonymized libraries until I'd matched the profile. No unauthorized access required."
He said, "We're gonna have to talk about privacy."
"An illusion." she countered chipperly. "Stop wasting cognitive cycles on it, embrace your total self, and you'll be much happier."
Firenze didn't bother arguing, mostly because he didn't disagree and partly because he'd helped design the scoop she'd just employed. Instead, he reached forward and conjured a wardrobe.
At a high level, what he was doing was searching directories to activate a mapped object to overlay onto his avatar. This object was itself comprised of a series of textures and embedded functions that would render sensately for each user, based on their level of integration in the net, be it goggles, soft-, or hardjack. For an amateur to do this, each line of code would have to be applied or activated through user interfaces and menus. For him, it was autonomic and profound.
In the physical world, he was slumped over his mattress, eyes flickering under closed lids. Electric symphonies played across the prod and wires stuck in his arm, a seductive mathematical rhythm, the melody of electric liberation. This was not enough. Novice hardjack users still wouldn't be able to overcome mental boundaries; any particular motion would be translated from meat-space intent to virtual equivalent. Attempting to raise your arm would raise your avatar's arm, and walking through the sim would be much like walking through the physical. Specific codes and commands would open interfaces or change the operating field, but for all intents and purposes, the user would have to use a computer inside a computer.
Firenze was no amateur. His mask was well-synced, and he had access to far greater subtlety and power. He could squint and reveal the code tucked into the wardrobe, embedded in every shoe and sandal. He could see the glimmer of handles and pointers, hiding just below the surface. He could reach out and change them directly, with the application of direct thought, translated by an assist box and mask that been synergized and adapted to his every pattern and trait. He could stride the world on a whim. He could evoke a location in his mind, the mask would execute, and they would arrive.
This was not skill. Sure, programming mattered. The ability to read and think in strings of data, code, and base math served as a useful foundation, but few problems required on-the-fly scripting, and the mask was far more suited to that task. Where he needed to sling script, it was better to lay pseudocode and then allow the mask to iterate intent into execution. It was far more critical to develop the all-encompassing link between mind and machine, the bond symbiosis between user and mask.
Every assist mask required adaptive code, while the best verged on the harsh line of legal AI. Reaching the peak of man-machine-interface required weeks - months - of training, working out the mistranslations, and establishing the unique shorthand between them. Firenze had been working with Lauren for years, building hardware, and adapting software within a shared profile. At a certain point, the mask ceased to be a tool. With enough development, the runner and mask were a blended entity, determining function and execution as efficiently as a person in meat-space might reach out to pick up a stone. When that theoretical person moved, they didn't have to think about the electrical current in their nerves or the chemical instructions in their muscles; their movements were automatic and natural, as required of a synthesized system. This was the endstate of the hardjack.
Firenze picked a pair of shoes - brown loafers, retro-reconstruction style - and then he wore them, as simple as meat-space. The wardrobe vanished, and the directory folded away into the net.
"Looking good, cowboy." Lauren said. She'd sprawled sideways over her chair, flashed a double-thumbs-up from her near-inverted position. In that moment, she wore a wide-brimmed hat and silver spurs, like something out of the reliquaries. Then it was back to business-casual, with no sign of the curious flash.
Mask personalities were emergent. Most templates came with a set of default profiles to choose from, varying from professional to personable. Some were more adaptable, and there was always a gray market for disreputable personality clusters, but all shared certain similarities and functions. The