“Yeah, when they—”
“Do you understand your rights and obligations?”
“Okay, yeah, but the thing is—”
“Look, asshole, I’m not wasting time on your lame explanations and bullshit. I was there, remember? Had a ringside seat to your sick game.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” His shackles clattered when he lifted his hands. “The whole thing got away from me. Some sort of glitch, and I was trying to fix it when—”
She slammed both hands on the table, made him jump. But she saw his gaze slide over, and up to the wound on her arm. “You stood there, you bastard, watching that vicious world you created go for us. You stood there.”
“I was trying to make it stop, but—”
“Stood there, observing. Too much of a coward to actually play.” She reached out, grabbed his shirtfront. “Too weak to take me on?”
“Easy, Dallas. Easy.” Peabody laid a hand on Eve’s shoulder in warning. “The guy created something pretty amazing. He’s a scientist. He probably doesn’t do much combat.”
“I can hold my own.”
Eve snorted in disgust, paced away.
“Well, sure.” Peabody sat now. “But I’m just saying, up against somebody trained like Dallas, or in the shape Roarke’s in, you’d be at a disadvantage. Physically. When it comes to e? You’re off the scale.”
“Maybe you two would like a moment alone,” Eve said coolly.
“Come on, Dallas, credit where it’s due. How long did it take you to develop the program? The tech’s beyond the ult. I can’t get my head around it.”
“It’s an entirely new level. It took years, but I could only put so much time into it. It’ll open up a whole new world, not just for gaming, but, well, for training you guys, and military. That kind of thing.” Eager now, he leaned forward. “I wanted to create something, to give something to society. I tried dozens of theories, applications, programs, before I was able to refine it. The realism offers the player true risk and reward. And that’s . . .” He drew back, as if realizing he was digging a hole.
“I never expected it would cause actual harm. That’s why I’ve been working to retool, to offer that same realism but without the potential to cause injury.”
“You knew it could harm, could even kill,” Peabody said, still wide-eyed. “So you’ve been trying to fix it.”
“Yes, yes. I’d never want anyone to be hurt.”
“Then why didn’t you tell Bart? Why didn’t you tell him the program was fatally flawed?”
“I . . . didn’t know he was going to take the disc. He didn’t log it out, he didn’t say anything.”
“But what was it doing there, at U-Play, if you were working on it outside the office?”
“I wanted to run it for him, to brainstorm with him, but he must’ve taken the disc to try it for himself.” Var lowered his head into his hands again. “I don’t know why he did that. Why he took a chance like that.”
“You’re stating that you told Bart about your work, about the program, and the risks?”
“Absolutely.”
“Just Bart?”
“That’s right. I didn’t realize he’d taken the experimental disc until—”
“Then why is Cill in the hospital?” Peabody persisted. “How did she get her hands on a second program disc if you only took one in to Bart?”
“After Bart I told her about it.” He widened his eyes, all sorrowful innocence. “I had to tell someone.”
“And she just got some wild hair and repeated Bart’s mistake?”
He sat back, set his jaw. “She must have. She didn’t say a thing about it. You can ask Benny.”