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form the basis for simsense and the virtual reality of the Matrix. A local Renraku spokesperson is quoted as saying ‘Renraku is redefining the state of the art.’ Other stock-market watchers in the Boston metroplex ..."
    Boston . I’m in Boston . That should mean something to me, but for some reason, it doesn’t. The voice on the trideo drones on about the opinions of men in suits regarding the mystic movements of the stock market and the advancements of Renraku and what the other megacorporations are going to do about it. An exterior shot shows the looming stock exchange building in the financial district of the crowded metroplex at night.
    That’s when I notice the reflection looking back at me from the darkened window. A young man with shaggy, dark hair. He is thin and pale, and his eyes match the color of the purple bruises on his face and arms, a strange violet color that almost seems to glow from the dark glass. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with a scrawl of silver Japanese characters under a loose denim jacket with the sleeves torn off, a pair of much battered and patched jeans, and black, laced-up combat boots. The clothes are spotted with dark spatters of blood. Silver gleams from behind one ear, and I brush my fingers against the cold metal ring of the dataport implanted there, watching the reflection’s arm move as well. He’s me, and I’m not entirely sure I recognize him. It’s more like looking at a stranger, a phantom on the other side of the glass gazing out at me.
    That’s when I start to realize I don’t really know who I am, and the realization hits me like an electric shock. How did I end up where the body-snatchers found me? Where am I going to go? Where do I live? What’s my name? I don’t know any of those things, but I know I should know them. There are breaks in my memory, like someone punched holes in my mind, leaving black gaps where remembrances used to be. I reach out to touch the glass with a trembling hand, and the stranger on the other side reaches out to me, his eyes wide and frightened.
    Who the frag are you? I ask silently.
    "Renraku Computer Systems provide you with the security of a solid reputation coupled with the leading edge in computer and Matrix technology available today," says the trideo. My attention is drawn back to the trid, where an image plays of a dark, endless vista lit by glowing neon shapes and glittering forms of slick chrome and pure color, too smooth and perfect to exist in the real world. The image zooms through the world of lines and shapes that rush by, moving toward a giant black pyramid in the distance. I can almost feel myself fly along through that world, and I suddenly feel a terrible longing for something I can’t find the words to describe. That is my world. The place where I belong and, perhaps, the answer to some of my questions.
    The view zooms up to the pyramid and focuses on a logo etched along the side in bright blue and red neon, a dot and expanding wavefront symbol beside a name written in both English and Japanese. The announcer’s voice reads the name at the same moment that my lips silently form it: Renraku .
    "Renraku. Come join the winning team."
    Then the screen switches back to a view of the newsroom and another talking head who begins to go on about a speech given in the UCAS capitol by Vice President Nadja Daviar. An image of a beautiful woman with midnight hair and pointed ears fills the screen, but I don’t even pay her any attention, so entranced am I by the image that came just before.
    Renraku . . . Renraku . The name means something to me. The taste and feel of it in my mouth is familiar. Why? Do I have something to do with Renraku? What? My head starts to hurt and my fists clench and I want to slam them through the store’s window, smashing the smiling face of the elven woman talking on the trideo about national healing and racial unity between humans and other metatypes. My vision blurs with tears and I pound my fist