The Bar Code Rebellion (11 page)

The swing-lo hovered low to the ground and then descended to a stop on a grassy mall on the campus of the California Institute of Technology. Jack had driven it much like a car, keeping it only several feet above the ground the entire way. Because they’d stayed so low, they’d expected their landing to go unnoticed, but Kayla and Jack were instantly surrounded by keen-eyed, fascinated students who had immediately identified the craft as aerodynamic. As one of the premier centers for scientific research in the country, Caltech attracted some of the best and brightest students. “I hope you have a patent on this, man,” said one student as he rubbed his hands along the swing-lo’s sides.

“Sure I do,” Jack said as they climbed out, though Kayla had the feeling it wasn’t so.

“Who’s your sponsor, what company?” asked a young woman.

“Don’t say it’s G-1, please,” said a young man with a bald head.

“Who else would it be?” Jack bluffed with a convincing confidence.

“One of the small start-up companies,” yet another young male student suggested.

“Naw,” Jack said dismissively. “None of them can match G-1 for manufacturing. These crafts are the next big thing and whoever can produce them the cheapest is going to corner the market. You have to go with G-1 or you’re sunk before you start.” These remarks were met with a mix of resigned agreement and grumbling.

“Anybody know where I can find a Professor Gold, the nanobot guy?” Jack asked the crowd … and it seemed that just about everyone knew.

As Jack took down the directions to Professor Gold’s office, Kayla marveled at how convincing his bluff about Global-1 had been. It brought back unsettling memories of how Zekeal had concealed from her his true involvement with Global-1 and his ties to Tattoo Gen.

She pushed her doubts aside; of course they had to seem to be on board with Global-1. They were wearing fake bar code tattoos — Dusa had given her a fake containing Kathryn Reed’s file. “When you lie about something it’s good to stay as close to the truth as you can,” she’d reasoned as she pressed it onto Kayla’s wrist. Kayla found it eerie to be pretending to be her own grandmother.

Jack grabbed Kayla’s hand. “Come on. We’re close.” They hurried along the walkway to a brick building with large picture windows and entered it. Professor Gold’s office was listed on the information board as being on the third floor, so they took the elevator up.

Before they reached Professor Gold’s office, they passed a large glassed-in room crammed with computers and printers spitting out yards of paper containing bar graphs. “There she is!” Kayla cried softly, spotting Allyson behind one of them. Excited, she banged on the glass.

Allyson looked to the sound and her face instantly lit up with delighted recognition. Her appearance was nearly the same as Kayla remembered. The halo of messy blond curls that always surrounded her round, angelic face was now pushed up onto the top of her head and held in place with a pencil. Kayla thought it looked slightly blonder. Her pale skin was now the golden color of a lightly toasted marshmallow, which gave her an outdoorsy look she’d never had before. A white lab coat replaced the loosely flowing tops she used to favor to cover the fifteen or so extra pounds she wanted to lose, so it was hard to be certain but it seemed that she had shed at least some of them. She was still Allyson, but her looks were somewhat improved.

She waved them inside and then met Kayla with a heartfelt hug, which Kayla returned. It was so good to see her old friend again. When they separated, Allyson glanced at Kayla’s wrist and her eyes widened in horror at the sight of the fake bar code tattoo.

Kayla mouthed the word
fake,
and Allyson instantly relaxed.

Jack, who had been hanging back by the door, stepped forward, and Kayla introduced him. Allyson shook his hand but looked worried. “Where’s Mfumbe?” she asked.

Kayla told her what had happened. It was a story Jack was hearing for the first time, too, and he listened with rapt attention.

“Poor Mfumbe. He must feel so trapped,” Allyson sympathized.

“Right now he
is
trapped,” Kayla agreed. “He’s trapped by the injuries he suffered and by his parents. Dusa and I brought him there because he was badly hurt, but now I’m not sure we did the right thing.”

“If he was spitting up blood he most likely had internal bleeding. That’s serious — you did the right thing,” Allyson said.

“The worst of it is the bar code tattoo they forced on him,” Kayla told her. “I’ve been in touch with him and he’s really depressed.”

“I guess August was depressed after the march, too, even though he wasn’t caught,” Allyson said. “I wish I’d been in closer touch with him.”

“I wish I had, too,” Kayla agreed, feeling again the sting of guilt about not having been more aggressive in her efforts to contact August.

“I can’t believe that out of our whole group, you’re the only one of us left who isn’t bar-coded,” Allyson pointed out sadly. “I guess I really owe you an apology. When you first came to our resistance
meeting with Zekeal, I thought you were nice but I also assumed you were this ditzy, artsy girl who would get a bar code as soon as things got rough. I figured you were just after Zekeal. But as it turns out, you’re the strongest of us all. Look how you’ve managed to keep ahead of G-1 and how you’ve been brave enough not to give in all this time.”

Kayla had never thought of herself as strong, or even particularly bright or brave. In her own eyes, she was just a girl, more average than anything else, doing her best to figure things out and keep going.

“She’s amazing,” Jack chimed in.

“You guys are nice,” Kayla said, brushing them off. Wanting to get the focus off herself, she walked farther into the room to the computers and printers. “What is all this stuff?” she asked.

“We’re studying biological applications for nanotechnology — nanobiotechnology,” Allyson explained, and gave them a tour of the research facility. “We’re working with our infometrics department to —”

“Infometrics?” Kayla interrupted. “What’s that?”

“It’s a field of study that merges genetics with computer analysis,” Allyson explained. “All these computers and printers are gathering and reporting on every bit of available data on government and private genetic experimentation in the field of genetic engineering. We have the most advanced equipment here.”

She pointed to a board with dots of colorful lights on it. “That’s a machine that constantly runs a DNA microarray and projects the results onto a screen. The DNA microarray has been around since 2001, but this computer streamlines the process, running the tests and reporting results instantly. It can tell us what genes are active in an organism and give us a visual snapshot of the cell’s genetic script.”

“You’re losing me,” Kayla warned, with a self-conscious laugh at her own lack of scientific knowledge.

Allyson smiled. “All you really need to know is that it helps us compare the genetic contents of a healthy cell with that of a diseased cell. When it first came out, this thing helped researchers to understand how the AIDS virus replicated. Through the years it’s become more and more sophisticated.”

“What are all these printouts?” Jack asked.

“Dr. Gold is searching for information that will enable him to put his new virus-fighting nanobots to their best use.”

“How much access do they have?” Jack asked.

“They’re searching worldwide data banks for information, but it’s been difficult since these global companies aren’t always eager to share what they know.

“I call this main computer Helen of Troy because she’s capable of launching a thousand programs,”
Allyson said with a grin. She then took a step closer to them and bent her head away from the other researchers working in the room. “I’d like to show you guys something I’ve uncovered. I’m so glad you’re here, because there’s no one else I would trust with this.”

Her words sent a chill through Kayla, who looked around the room to check if they were being observed. Everyone appeared to be going about their business, uninterested in the three of them.

Allyson stepped away again and took on a more normal attitude. “Here are the keys to my apartment. I’ll be there as soon as I can and we’ll catch up. I live off campus. I’ll write down my address.”

Kayla took the keys from her as they walked back to the door. “It’s so great to see you,” she said animatedly, leaning in for another parting hug.

As they embraced, Allyson whispered into Kayla’s ear. “I have another set of keys for myself. Keep the door locked and don’t let anyone in.”

The swing-lo’s built-in global positioning tracker made it easy for them to find where Allyson lived. “Where will I park this thing?” Jack wondered as they hovered outside the low apartment building just minutes from the institute.

“Park it on the roof,” Kayla suggested.

Jack eyed the three-story climb nervously. “No,” he decided. Hitting some buttons, he tilted the craft until it was nearly at a ninety-degree angle
and sent it forward. Kayla gripped its sides anxiously as he drove it through a narrow opening between the building and a chain-link fence, quickly coming out to a grassy yard behind the apartment. “This will do,” he said, climbing out.

Back in front, they used Allyson’s keys to let themselves in the front door. The building was old, from the early twentieth century, they guessed.

“I’ve been thinking about the Helen of Troy computer,” Jack said quietly in the shadowy front hall. “You know those computer algorithms I was telling you about, the ones that might reveal what Gene Drake knew?”

Kayla nodded. “Uh-huh.” The algorithms were the key to unlocking the information that would tell them what terrible secret was stored in the bar code tattoo, the secret so much worse even than the accumulation of genetic histories.

“I want to talk to Allyson about the possibility of using Helen of Troy to hack into the G-1 files and get those codes,” he said as they climbed the narrow stairs to the apartment on the third floor.

Kayla realized that she’d be alone there with Jack. Except when they had been together in the swing-lo or walking in the desert, this hadn’t occurred before. Now they were someplace private, and she was suddenly nervous about what might happen. She trusted him to respect her wishes — she just wasn’t entirely certain of what those wishes were. She was promising herself she’d
be loyal to Mfumbe, and she was picturing herself with Jack at the same time. It wasn’t a vision of any kind, simply her imagination wandering into dangerous territory.

The spacious, sunny, one-room apartment was at the end of a long hall. They entered and Kayla immediately sank into the soft futon couch. It had been a long time since she’d experienced any of the comforts of everyday life. Shutting her eyes, she let the softness of the cushion surround her. “Allyson must have a shower here,” she suddenly realized. After months of washing in streams, lakes, and public restrooms, a shower seemed like an unbelievable luxury.

Jack tossed her a towel he found in a closet. “You go first. Then me.”

Kayla washed her hair with Allyson’s lavender-scented shampoo and luxuriated in the flow of warm water down her back. As she soaped herself she was once again reminded of how hard her muscles had become and how calloused her feet were from the tough life she’d been living. When she was done, she threw her shorts, T-shirt, and underwear into the tub and watched the filthy water run into the drain.

She was toweling her hair dry when Jack knocked. “One minute,” she called as she scrambled to wrap herself in the towel. It was barely tucked into place when he came in wearing only a towel around his waist.

A moment charged with mutual attraction followed as they looked at each other. He stepped closer so that his face was only inches from hers. She ached to reach for him, to feel his lips on hers.

“You’re not ready for this, are you?” he asked, realizing the moment was thick with possibility but that she was hesitant.

“Are you?” she asked back.

He smiled. “Just say the word and I’m ready.”

She nodded, smiling at him despite her concerns. “I have someone special,” she said. “I wouldn’t like it if he went with someone else.”

“He’s far away … and things change,” he said.

The front door creaked as it was opened. “Hello?”

“Allyson’s here,” Kayla said, realizing she was relieved that the moment had been broken by her friend’s arrival. Pulling her towel tighter, she went out to greet her, leaving Jack in the bathroom.

Allyson tossed her jam-packed bag on the futon and grabbed a bottled iced tea from the refrigerator. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Just showering,” Kayla replied, taking an iced tea from her. “I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Not at all. Are you still with Mfumbe?”

Kayla smiled but sighed with exasperation. “Yeah.”

“He’d be pretty hard to resist,” she commented, nodding toward the shower sounds coming from the bathroom.

Kayla rolled her eyes and laughed. “He’s a good guy, too. I’m hanging tough, though. After everything Mfumbe and I have gone through together, I owe him that much.”

“Loyalty is important,” Allyson agreed, “especially nowadays when you don’t know who to trust. But you and Mfumbe haven’t made any promises, have you?”

“No. It’s just understood,” Kayla replied.

Allyson shrugged. “Fortunately — or unfortunately — right now I don’t have to worry about those kinds of problems. I have other things that are obsessing me.”

Allyson took a billowy sundress from her closet and tossed it to Kayla. It hung like a tent on Kayla until Allyson directed her to a belt in the top drawer.

The shower stopped, and in a few minutes Jack emerged, dressed just in his shorts. “That felt good,” he commented with a smile. “What is it you were going to show us, Allyson?”

Without answering him, Allyson moved purposefully toward the back wall of the apartment. Kneeling, she dug her fingertips into a thin groove in the hardwood floor and easily pried up a plank that had clearly already been loosened. A satisfied smile spread across her face. “This is what I wanted you to see,” she said, peeling off an e-chip taped to the plank’s underside.