Nothing. No diagnostics. No HUD. I cold-rebooted.
Nothing.
I was offline.
Offline, I filed out of the Hall of Presidents. Offline, I took Lil’s hand and walked to the Liberty Belle load-zone, our spot for private conversations. Offline, I bummed a cigarette from her.
Lil was upset—even through my bemused, offline haze, I could tell that. Tears pricked her eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, after a hard moment’s staring into the moonlight reflecting off the river.
“Tell you?” I said, dumbly.
“They’re really good. They’re better than good. They’re better than us. Oh, God.”
Offline, I couldn’t find stats or signals to help me discuss the matter. Offline, I tried it without help. “I don’t think so. I don’t think they’ve got soul, I don’t think they’ve got history, I don’t think they’ve got any kind of connection to the past. The world grew up in the Disneys—they visit this place for continuity as much as for entertainment. We provide that.” I’m offline, and they’re not—what the hell happened?