Free Game of Death by David Hosp

back in his chair. ‘We don’t know at this point. All we can tell is that these three girls were all raped and killed, all three of them got paid the same amount of
money around the same time by your company four and a half years back.’
    ‘That could be a coincidence,’ Yvette says.
    Killkenny looks at Welker, who still has neither moved nor spoken. ‘It’s possible,’ he says. ‘But we’re cops. We don’t believe in coincidences. And we sure as
shit don’t believe in them when we’re talking about a connection like this between three dead girls. Plus, you add in the similarities between the NextLife cyber-fantasy you saw . . .
It’s something we have to look into.’
    ‘But what’s the connection?’ I ask.
    Killkenny shakes his head. ‘I have no idea. That’s why we’re looking for your help. We need to know exactly what these girls did for the company. We need to find out as much as
we can about the person whose fantasy Yvette was watching. You need to help us put the pieces together to figure out what the hell is going on here.’
    I’m looking at the pictures, thinking about what the girls must have looked like while they were alive, thinking about what they must have gone through when they died. I’m also
thinking about the eyes of the girl in
De Sade
’s fantasy that I’ve walked twice, and the way the spark in her eyes went dead. ‘If we help you with this, will you try to
keep our involvement out of the papers? Keep the investigation quiet for now?’
    Killkenny glares at me. ‘Were not looking to jam you up with your company, Nick,’ he says. ‘We’re just trying to figure out who killed these girls.’
    ‘I need some assurance,’ I say.
    ‘I can’t promise anything,’ Killkenny says, ‘But to the extent possible, we’ll keep the investigation quiet. I’m going to be joining the investigation
formally, so if you’ve got any concerns as we move forward, you can come to me.’
    I look over at Yvette. She is still staring at the first picture, the one of the girl from the feather fantasy. She nods.
    ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘We’ll tell you what we know.’

CHAPTER NINE
    Mine is the first generation raised online. I was six years old when Tim Berners-Lee created the World Wide Web, simplifying navigation on the growing but still largely
underutilized and esoteric Internet. By the time I was sixteen the dot-com bubble was getting ready to pop, and the entire world was plugged in. I sometimes wonder whether the early innovators had
any concept of the Pandora’s Box they were opening when they set out to create our entirely new world. I suspect they viewed the free availability of information as only a good thing. And,
indeed, it has brought much good with it. It has allowed for the education of millions upon millions of children who had previously been cut off from information and opportunity. It has facilitated
the exchange of knowledge and research that has sped development of medicines and useful technology. It has provided an outlet for the free expression of ideas and dissent, and been a key
ingredient in the overthrow of some of the worst dictatorships in history.
    Every good must have its evil, though. Ease of access to information has also led to an explosion of new crime. With the push of a button, criminal organizations can transfer funds from their
illicit activities to safe havens around the world, or steal someone’s identity and confiscate their entire net worth, or wipe out businesses or even governments.
    Technology has also weakened the tangible human connections that form the basis of societal cohesion. Those of us in the connected masses indulge in a depth of electronic navel-gazing and
self-fascination that the world never before knew was possible. Actual experience no longer seems paramount; posting
evidence
of experience online for the world to see is what matters now.
People these days upload the images of their exploits literally as they happen,