Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

The Man at One Kelvin Degrees sensation. Or rather, it couldn’t do it properly. On closer observation, the whole scene seemed to be made up of theater wings of cardboard. “That ’s because Chinese rendering algorithms are different from ours.” Silver seemed to have read my thoughts. “I’d heard about this,” he proceeded, “but I’d never seen it with my own eyes. Great cover-up, I must say. Live music and dancing, like a high-class junkies’ hangout. No-one would ever dream this was a doorway to the Chinese web.” I was still reeling at the thought that the living-room of Alessandra Selmo Rossi contained an oval stucco leading directly to China, when Silver turned to me urgently. “We must go back. I’ve no idea of how we look to them. They might even see us.” I was drawn back out. Once again the holographic image became indistinct, and I found myself flying in front of the oval frieze, then slowly gliding down to reclaim my virtual body. “Ever thought of becoming a cop, Silver? You’d be quite an asset. How the hell did you find out?” “Just starting to explain would take me a couple of days, detective. We’d better go back to the dance floor.”

61