For the first time I wonder if Kel was right about Reg pushing him back at the tunnel opening the other day. He can be so selfish sometimes, so immature, letting others do the heavy lifting.
“
Kelly told him to wait a couple hours. He said he had to do it, to go by himself. He mentioned love.”
“
Love? He said that? To Reg?”
“
Said it was his responsibility to take care of the people he cares for.”
This just makes me even angrier. How can he speak of love and then lie to me like this? “The people he cares for? He doesn't care about Jake any more than you or Reggie do.”
“
I care for Jake!”
“
Then why didn't you go? Huh?”
There's a moment of silence as she looks away in shame. “Kelly said he had more reason than any of us to go.”
“
He won't put this on me!”
“
Actually, he mentioned Kyle.”
Kyle?
Is that what he meant by love and responsibility? Somehow it hurts even more knowing it isn't me.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and press my thumbs against my eyelids. I don't want to believe what's happening.
“
What do you think he meant by that, Jess? What does Kyle have to do with Kelly going back for Jake? Is this some sort of big-brother thing?”
I push even harder. I start imagining my thumbs thrusting deep inside my brain. What would it feel like? Would it hurt? Tiny little micro supernovas explode behind my eyelids.
“
Jessie?”
The problem is, it's all starting to make sense: Kyle and the strange way Kelly'd been acting lately. The mysterious message from ArcWare on his Link last week.
I feel like I'm suffocating.
Inhale and hold.
I wish I was wrong, but somehow I don't think I am.
Exhale.
Kelly's inability to focus lately and his sudden obsession with
Zpocalypto
.
Hold. And inhale again.
It's all coming together, all the pieces. I just can't see how they all fit.
I drop my hands and the white stars behind my eyelids slowly fade away. When they're gone, I look up at her.
I ask her for her Link, and she gives it to me. Once again I see Kwanjangnim Rupert's face streak by as I scroll through her contacts list. I'm dying to know why she has him on her Link, how she knows him. But I can't think about that right now. First I try and ping Kelly. After a moment, I get sent to the messaging app, so I leave a quick request to ping me back as soon as he gets this. Then I disconnect.
On a whim, I next try pinging my own Link. I immediately get the following message:
<
I show Ash the message. She shrugs and says, “Your Link's on the other side of the EM barrier, outside the Stream. At least we know they won't be able to trace it there.”
“
I tried Kelly and got his messaging app instead of this. It means he's still here. If we leave now, maybe we can catch up with him.”
She pulls away. I can see the terror in her eyes. But somebody needs to think about how terrified Jake must feelâ¦
I hear Mom talking to someone downstairs. Another disposable boyfriend, no doubt. But when no other voice responds, I realize she must be on her Link. I dismiss her from my mind. A moment later she knocks at my door and says that there's a message for me on the house Link and asks if I can take it.
I get up and pull the door open. She sees Ashley sitting on my bed and mumbles a hurried hello before handing me the Link and slipping away. I guess I should be happy that she still has enough self respect to be aware of how horrible she looks to my friends.
“
Kel?” I say, not bothering to first check the identification code.
“
This is a call forâ¦Jessica Anne Daniels,” a mechanical recording states. “Is thisâ¦Jessica Anne Daniels? Say âYes,' ifâ”
“
Yes.”
There's a moment of silence, then the recording asks me to verify my home address, which I do. “This is Connecticut Citizen Registration. You have filed a missing personal Link device report and have requested a replacement. An appointment to interview you and to formalize your application process has been set for nine-thirty this morning in our main office in Hartford. You may take the free eight o'clock transit bus number seventeen from your town's administration hub. You should expect to be with us until approximately three o'clock in the afternoon. If you are identified as being in need of a latent individualized neural connection, you will be required to sign a surgical release and to remain for the implantation procedure and follow up observation for twenty four hours. This appointment cannot be rescheduled. Say âRepeat,' if you'd like this information repeated.”
I don't, even though my head is buzzing. I get the necessary details: address, room number, penalties for missing the appointment and falsifying information. All the while my anger grows and grows until it feels like a living thing inside of me. Ash waits until I disconnect and have finished swearing up a blue streak and throwing stuff around my room before trying to say anything.
“
Ugh,” she says, trying to be supportive. “I remember the CR office in Hartford. It's in that big, ugly, stupid looking skyscraper. The inside is absolutely dreadful.”
“
Thanks,” I manage to mutter through clenched teeth. “That makes me feel much better.”
“
Yeah, a whole day of sitting in a hot, stuffy Citizen Registration office answering the same hundred questions being asked ten different ways.”
That's not actually why I'm angry.
“
Still not helping, Ash.”
“
But why did you report it? I thought you were going to wait. Kelly and Jake might still bring it back.”
“
It was Kelly who reported it, not me!”
She looks confused.
“
He wanted to be absolutely sure I couldn't go back to LI.”
Ashley chews on this for a moment. “Well, it worked. You're stuck here, girl.”
I wave her off. “This pisses me off! He has no right to tell me I can't go and then to go and do it himself!” I'm pacing from one end of the room to the other, too angry to care, even when I realize I'm doing exactly what I hate about my brother when he gets agitated. I'm so upset I'm actually seeing red. “God damn him!”
Ash pings Micah and tells him the latest. She has the volume turned down and is talking low and close into the Link. I can barely hear her. I can't hear Micah's replies. From what I can gather as I prowl the room, he doesn't sound too happy with what Kelly's done.
She disconnects. “He says to just go and get your replacement Link. The rest of us will deal with Kelly and Jake.” She checks the time. “You better hurry if you're going to catch the transit.”
I finish dressing and pick my clothes from yesterday off the floor. They smell of sweat and stinky river water. I know I must smell like it, too, but I don't care. Where I have to go today, I doubt anyone will care.
Ash gets up off the bed and walks with me out of the room and down the hall. I dump the dirty clothes into the hamper and head downstairs.
“
Aren't you going to fix your hair?” she asks.
I notice for the first time how hers is perfectly brushed, shampooed and shiny bright.
“
Screw it.”
I'm still holding the house Link, so I scroll through the menu until I find the account page. I thumb the hotlink for Citizen Registration and wait for the automated voice to walk me through the options. I know the recording said the appointment couldn't be rescheduled, but it's worth a try.
No such luck.
I grab a water pouch and head for the door. Ash trails me. “What are you going to do now?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “See if I can find Micah. Maybe try and finish translating the new codex, I guess.”
I give her a sour look. They should be focusing on Kelly and Jake, not some stupid program.
She must see it on my face, because she adds, “We'll do what we can, but I'm not sure there's much we can do. The coding will keep my mind off things.”
“
Make sure Micah erases our implant codes from the program when he's done.”
Ash frowns, then slowly nods. She walks with me to the transit stop.
“
The ride up to Hartford's an hour-long,” she says. “I'd go nuts without a Link. What are you going to do?”
Something I barely remember how to do anymore.
“
Pray,” I say. “Pray Kelly gets home safe with Jake.”
“
They will.”
“
I hope you're right. Because when he gets back, I really am going to kill him.”
Â
I arrive
at the Citizen Registration office over on Fifth Ave in downtown Hartford a few minutes before the building opens for business, so I sit in the dwindling shade beneath a struggling maple tree and try to stay cool. I watch as workers pass through the doors under the stone archway that announces Carcher Plaza. They thread their way through the security screening area in the lobby and disappear further inside the guts of the place.
Ashley's right. The building is about as big and ugly as you can find in Hartford. It's actually three buildings fused together by glass and metal and concrete. The central tower, right in front of me, is a monolithic structure of yellow stone with an uninspired grid of small windows. The placard next to me says the building was named in honor of some guy named Edwin Carcher, a real estate developer from around the turn of the century. The picture of him amuses me, with his plastic-looking hair and the two beauties on his arms. The building in the picture sparkles. In real life it just looks run down and neglected. Just like everything else these days.
The story that goes along with the picture says Carcher made billions selling coastal property. He got out just before the first floods hit the coastal cities nearly thirty years ago. After the waters receded, he bought all the property back at rock bottom prices, developed it again and sold it to the next generation of developers at a steep markup. Then the earthquake hit Europe and sent tsunamis across the Atlantic. Everything got swamped out again.
The writer of the story seemed to think that Edwin Carcher was some sort of prophet, that he was able to time his purchases and sales so perfectly that he must've somehow known. Maybe he was a prophet. Maybe he knew when disasters would strike. You'd think after the second time people would've stopped buying from him.
There's quite a large crowd gathered by the time it opens to the public, people appearing out of nowhere, off transits from other parts of the state. It's almost like the zombies on LI.
When I think this, a buzz of nervousness thrums through my body. It feels strange to be standing here with this secret, knowing where I was yesterday and what I saw and what happened. Nobody else here has any clue what it was like. Anyone who was there for the outbreak is either dead or became an Infected Undead. A lot of them are probably still there.
The doors finally open, and we all filter into the lobby. It's slow going, since there's only one security checkpoint and we all have to go through it. When I finally get to the front, the guard scans my implant and asks for my Link.
“
I'm here to report it missing.”
Several people glance over at me, looks of surprise on their faces. Nobody loses a Link these days. It's too much of a hassle to get a new one. Plus, it's hard to imagine life without one. Our Links connect us to the world. Without them, functioning is so much harder. Also, losing a Link places you under intense scrutiny for weeks afterward.
The guard leers at me and snarls when he asks, “Lost or stolen?”
I choose an answer that hints at both and neither at the same time. “I was at the park and it must've fallen out of my pocket. When I went back to find it, it was gone.”
“
No one would pick up someone else's Link,” a little old woman standing behind me declares. She looks like she could be eighty, but I know that's not possible. Everyone gets conscripted at sixty-five. Unless they have a waiver that is, like Grandpa. Maybe that's it.
“
Did you try tracing it, honey?” she asks. “That's how I always find mine, when I can't remember where I put it.”
“
Yes. But it wasn't traceable.”
“
Oh. Oh dear, then. That doesn't sound right.”
“
Sixth floor,” the guard tells me, rolling his eyes. “Room eighteen. Off the elevator and to the right. Now move along.” He gives me a sour look as I pass through the screener. It beeps once, signifying that it has detected my implant and registered it. Behind me, I hear the guard ask the old woman what she's here for.
“
To get my implant,” she answers.
“
Age?”
“
Sixty five next week.”
“
Cutting it close, aren't you, mother?”
I don't hear her answer.
“
Link, please,” the guard says to her. I hear the scanner beepâa different beep than mine. Then he tells her, “Twenty-third floor. And, mother? Thank you for your service.”
I hang back so I can ride the elevator up with her, but she sees me and cuts into the restroom. I don't know who's in worse shape, her or me. She's got a week to live. Me, depending on what happens with Kelly and Jake, it's possible I could have even less than that. Unlikely, but possible.