Read about the Dark Net Target Practice game inspired by this chapter. At first glance, the rolling green hills, brilliant blue sky and puffy clouds looked reasonably convincing. But the illusion didn’t hold up well under close scrutiny. Everything had the shoddy artificialness of a low budget virtual environment, like an old fashioned sound stage in some epic film from the glory days of Technicolor Hollywood. Max imagined if he were to climb the nearest hill, he would find that the distant horizon where the earth met the sky was nothing more than paint on a rippling canvas backdrop. Listen to the Chapter 26 podcast with roboreader Sangeeta. The half dozen creatures frolicking on the artificial turf a few dozen yards away weren’t rendered any better. There was a cat that was apparently made of scraps of paper swept up from the floor of an artist’s studio, a cartoonish dog walking on his hind legs and wearing a red cape, a bearded man with an Elizabethan collar that Max assumed was supposed to evoke Shakespeare, a levitating UFO about the size of a basketball, and a claymation Albert Einstein. The final creature was the most animated of the bunch – it was a twisting, cavorting, spastic paperclip with googly eyes that Max recognized as the annoying office assistant from some ancient word processor program. “Ready for target practice?” Joel asked as he hefted a rifle to his shoulder and took a bead on the dancing paperclip flitting through a patch of yellow flowers. He squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot that froze the creature in mid frolic. “That just hangs the process,” said Joel. He tilted the rifle and twisted a knob on the stock. “You can adjust how long you want it to halt with this. Watch him. He’ll get going again in a second.” After a few moments, the frozen paperclip jerked back into motion just as Joel had predicted. He flipped the rifle over and pointed to a switch just in front of the trigger guard. “This lets you set it to corrupt the bugger all together. Wanna try it?” Max shook his head. “After you.” Joel aimed again and shouted, “Hey dude, it looks like I’m writing an obituary.” The paperclip bounced spastically. “Would you like help?” it screeched. “I think I know how to compose this one.” Joel fired a shot. The grinning paperclip melted into a blob of gray goo that seeped into the grass. Joel thrust the weapon into Max’s hands. “Give it a go. It’s fun.” The faux wood stock was warm and smooth. The rifle had a comfortable heft. Max set the switch back to the pause position and pointed the gun up to the sky at a cloud that was unconvincingly drifting by. The butt bucked lightly against his shoulder and a jagged portion of the cloud stopped in its place, while the remainder continued on its way. He lowered the rifle toward the ground and pulled the trigger again. A spot on the shimmering grass dimmed a bit. Finally, he aimed at the claymation Einstein. The first shot went wide right, and the second was too low. The third was dead on, freezing Einstein in place. “If we’re going in there armed with these,” he said, “I hope you’re not counting on my marksmanship.” Max turned as he spoke, and Joel leapt back clumsily stumbling on his robes. “Watch it,” he squeaked. “Don’t point that at me.” Max lowered the muzzle. “Excuse me. Is it dangerous to humans?” “Indeedy,” said Joel. “They tried it on me once. It was only set on pause of course. Have you ever been wrapped in a wet rubber sheet?” Max admitted that it was not a pleasure he had ever experienced. “You can imagine what it feels like. Anyway, we’re not relying on your aim. Linda’s a crack shot. She’s the one who popped me. I can tell you, I wasn’t standing still for it. She hit me at fifty meters and a full run.” The image brought an involuntary smile to Max’s face. “Besides,” said Joel, “you don’t have to aim very well with these.” He lifted a portion of his robe to reveal a belt with a collection of canisters hanging from it. One was marked with the red let