The Paladin Prophecy (16 page)

“Start your engines,” said Ajay, handing Will a wheeled shopping cart. “I’ll be right back.”

Ajay hurried off. Will pushed the cart to the winter wear section. He didn’t see any price tags, but the piece he wanted most—a heavy blue fleece sweatshirt with a gray CIL embroidered on the chest—had to cost half of what he had to his name. Reluctantly he tossed it into the cart. He was trying to decide whether to spend the rest on a pair of khakis or a rugby shirt when Ajay returned.

“This was waiting for you at the counter,” said Ajay. “You didn’t tell me you were on full scholarship, man. That’s a horse of a different color.”

Ajay handed him a thick plastic credit card. It was blank, with the same deep blackness he’d seen in Robbins’s expanding tablet. Ajay ran a finger along its outer edge, activating a sensor. The school’s crest appeared, floating in its center. Below that was a sixteen-digit code number and the name WEST.

Will turned it over. A standard magnetized credit card strip ran along the back. His parents had explained how these strips worked, how banks and companies used them to store confidential information they’d gathered about you. He wondered how much information was already embedded here.

“Do they take cash?” asked Will.

“Cash? For heaven’s sake, man, you don’t need cash anymore. You have the Card now. You can use it everywhere.”

“Did they mention what my limit is?”

“If there is a limit, it will now be your job to find it,” said Ajay.

Living expenses, books and supplies, all included
. Once again, Dr. Robbins had delivered what she’d promised.

“Let’s do it,” said Will.

Will dropped the pants and the rugby shirt into the cart. He’d never shopped anywhere without the pressure of a budget. The prospect made him giddy, but despite Ajay’s encouragement to break the bank, he still felt like he was taking advantage. Ajay kept tossing things into the cart and Will kept putting them back.

#81: NEVER TAKE MORE THAN YOU NEED.

Three pairs of pants. Five navy and gray shirts. A week’s worth of socks and underwear. A pair of heavy-soled winter boots. A navy watch cap. Fleece-lined gloves and a gray wool scarf. Two sets of long underwear. The only luxury he allowed himself was a dark blue winter parka with a fur-lined hood, but he easily convinced himself he needed that for survival.

A friendly cashier rang it up, asked for his card, and passed it over a scanner that made the card glow. Will didn’t have to sign anything. He never saw a total. No prices appeared on the receipt she gave him.

“How long have you been here?” asked Will.

“My second year. As a freshman, I was roughly the size of this slice of chicken.” Ajay laughed again, infectiously. Will found it impossible not to laugh with him, especially when he made jokes at his own expense.

They were seated in the food court, over teriyaki rice bowls and sunomono salads made to order, fresh and flavorful, and paid for with a single flash of Will’s magic card. A full stomach did wonders for his mood. So did the fleece sweatshirt.

“So what’s with the big noise about cells and laptops?” asked Will.

Ajay’s brow knit together and his look darkened. “So you’ve met Lyle.”

“Yes.”

Ajay leaned forward. “At first I assumed it was a rule they imposed to show they’re in charge and it would be more honored in the breach than the observance. That proved not to be the case. They take this very seriously indeed.”

“But for what reason?”

“They don’t want our faces buried in phones or our heads stuck up the Internet all the time. They really
do
want us to talk to each other.”

“Texting is a
form
of talking,” said Will. “And usually it’s a lot more efficient.”

“I wouldn’t argue, Will, but I don’t make the rules. And honestly, after a while you’ll find that face-to-face communication works entirely to your personal benefit.”

“How?”

“It forces you outside your comfort zone,” said Ajay. “Refines social skills, in a good way. Believe it or not, I used to be quite the introvert.”

“You’re making that up.”

“It’s true, I swear to you! And now look at me, a regular chatterbox. I’m completely out of my shell.”

Ajay took a small rectangular black box from the folder Brooke had given him and pushed it across the table.

“Clip that onto your belt. It’s a pager. If anyone tries to reach you on the internal phone system, this beeps. Pick up any phone on campus and the operator instantly connects the call.”

It was a bit bigger than a matchbox and had a metal clip on the back. On the right front corner was a small grill, and there was one small recessed button in the middle. Otherwise it was seamless and solid, with surprising weight. He couldn’t even find a slot for batteries.

“So I’ll have to deal with the texting thing,” said Will. “What about email?”

“You’ll get an email address with your tablet. It’s connected to the main servers for the school’s internal network.”

“Wait, you mean it only works on campus? What about Internet access?”

“Limited. No Wi-Fi or networks out here. You can sign on using ports in the libraries, for specific research, but outside websites are severely restricted.”

Will’s anger rose. “We can’t even get on the Net from our own rooms?”

“No surfing, no social networking, no console or online games—”

“What about TV?”

“There’s one in the student union, but I’ve never seen anyone watching—”

“But these are basic principles of free speech. The right to access useless information and mindless, mediocre entertainment—”

“The Center’s a private institution; they can set any rules they like.”

“This isn’t Communist China. They can’t just shut down the pipeline and cut us off from the rest of the world—”

“The point is there’s hardly
time
for such things, Will. They work us like sled dogs, and in case you never noticed, sled dogs love the harness! You’ll see. Don’t underestimate the joy of being challenged or losing yourself in work. I’m talking one hundred percent immersion: classes, labs, homework, and field assignments. Add to that all the social activities: sports leagues, clubs, concerts, and dances—”

“Dances?”

Ajay lowered his voice so no one would overhear. “As part of the Fall Hayride festivities last month, I even attended a
square dance
.”

“Get out of town.”

“It was insanely fun! Call me crazy. The girls, man, the girls.” Ajay jumped up and demonstrated his square dance.

Will’s mind drifted to Brooke, and from her to Todd Hodak. He needed deep background on that situation, but for all he knew, Ajay blabbed like a talk-show host to everyone in their pod. He didn’t want word of his “crush” getting back to Brooke.

When they finished eating, Ajay led him to the soda fountain by the bowling alley for a chocolate milkshake, which was handcrafted by a server wearing a white peaked cap, like the soda jerk in a Norman Rockwell print. Frost formed on the silver goblet as Will poured his shake into a tall fountain glass. He devoured the sublime concoction, which was laced with buttery nuggets of ice cream. Agreeable pop music issued from a jukebox. The muted swell of pins crashing next door sounded as soothing as a waterfall. Life, for whatever reason, felt worth living again.

Proving Rule #84: WHEN NOTHING ELSE WORKS, TRY CHOCOLATE.

“Why a bowling alley?” asked Will.

Ajay mimed throwing a bowling ball. “Apparently the headmaster read a study that tied the decline of American happiness to the disappearance of organized bowling leagues. A few weeks later, voilà.”

“Are you on a team?”

“Yes. You’ll love it. You even get a shirt, with your name on the pocket. Although for aesthetic purposes, I insisted that mine read ‘Tony.’ ”

So far, everything about the Center looked and felt fine-tuned to perfection, as dreamlike as a movie set. Wherever Will turned, he saw nothing but content and happy faces, exactly as advertised.

“Ever wake up and feel like you’re dreaming?”

“Will,” said Ajay, suddenly serious. “My mother came to America from India at the age of nine. Her impoverished parents worked as domestics in an Atlantic City casino and eventually bought a dry cleaners. My father’s from an old aristocratic Polish family that lost everything but their luggage in World War Two. He grew up in Milwaukee, a penniless immigrant. Worked his way through Duke University and eventually bought a small chain of drugstores in Raleigh, North Carolina, called the Pill and Puff. My mother attended community college at night to train as a pharmacist. She landed a job in one of his drugstores, where they met and fell in love. Which led to me, their only child.

“As a result of this unusual heritage, of which I’m immensely proud, I am an odd duck by any reckoning. I stand barely five feet tall, and if you think I’m puny now, you should have seen me at six. It won’t surprise you to learn that I was bullied in school, unmercifully, from my first day of kindergarten all the way through junior high, by every redneck Neanderthal who ever laid eyes on me. Girls found me to be, throughout these years, invisible to the naked eye. I knew, secretly, that I was smarter than all of these knuckleheads and survived by my wits alone, with no way of knowing that I had anything worthwhile to offer any other living creature, that I was someone who could have friends and meet girls and experience something resembling a present or a future. Until the day I arrived at the Center.”

Ajay held his gaze, openhearted and sincere. Will felt ashamed of any impulse he’d had to doubt him.

“If this is a dream, I’m begging you,” said Ajay, “don’t ever let them wake me.”

NICK AND ELISE

When they left the soda fountain, Ajay excused himself to go to class. Will made a quick grocery run for staples like peanut butter, crackers, and milk. He saw no junk food on the shelves and tons of health foods; his parents would have approved. He bundled up in his new gloves, hat, scarf, and jacket for the hike back to Greenwood Hall. He felt like a sausage but didn’t shiver once and covered the ground with surprising speed. So chalk up one plus for Nordic weather: It helped get you where you were going a
whole
lot faster.

Back inside, the door to the provost marshal’s office was open. Will noticed a camera on the wall above the door. Inside the room, he caught a glimpse of Lyle speaking intently to Todd Hodak.

Somehow he knew:
They’re talking about me
.

They saw him as he passed. Todd’s eyes fired with anger. Will started upstairs and heard Lyle’s door slam.

He reached his floor and used his key card to enter the pod. As he carried his bags to the kitchen, he felt someone else watching him. He turned.

Stretched out on one of the sofas and propped up on one elbow, a book open in front of her. Jet-black hair cut in a sharp pageboy and bangs that framed her face like a chain mail helmet. Porcelain skin and arched black brows above almond-shaped eyes. Big eyes, a dazzling jade green that he’d never seen except in pictures of tropical waters. Her bone structure echoed some statue of a lost Egyptian queen. She wasn’t conventionally pretty. There appeared to be nothing conventional about her. Words that came more immediately to Will’s mind:
Commanding. Arresting. Intoxicating
.

She was dressed in dark blue from head to toe: a tight skirt, leggings, and a turtleneck sweater. She didn’t move, secretly amused, still and regal as a Persian cat, and never took those unnerving eyes off him.

“You must be Elise,” Will said finally.

One eyebrow rose slowly. “
Must
I?”

Will felt like a mouse. Being toyed with by a cat. “Yes. ‘Must be.’ Sticking with my original call.”

“Well, then …”

She wants to know my name
.

“Will,” he said.

“Well, then,” said Elise. “Advantage, Will.”

Not for long
, he thought. He snapped off a two-finger salute, then, on purpose, tripped over his own feet and sent his bags flying.

Elise rolled her eyes and shifted back to her book.
Dismissed
. Humbled, Will put his groceries away, coaching himself:
Just
pretend she’s a person, too
. He reentered the great room prepared to make small talk, but she held up a hand.

“Working,” she said.

Whatever witticism he’d been preparing flew out of Will’s mind. He hurried into his room and took some deep breaths. Brooke and Elise under the same roof?
You cannot be serious
. So far Ajay wasn’t exaggerating about the girls at the Center.

Will noticed something sitting on his desk: his new “computing device.” He examined it from every angle; it was nothing like a traditional laptop, more like a slightly thicker iPad. It was solid and metallic, with a soft black matte finish that looked and felt like velvet. Less than an inch thick, it weighed about a pound and a half and had no visible ports or drives. On the back, in the lower right-hand corner, stamped into the metal, was a sixteen-digit code number followed by WWEST. The same information that was on his black school card.

Will searched for a way to start it and found an indentation on the right side. He pressed it. Motors whirred. Legs unfolded in back and raised the entire unit to an ideal viewing angle. Then the thing expanded in size by a third—the way Robbins’s magical slate had done—and powered on with a musical chord. The whole face sizzled to life, a screen, and in the middle words appeared: INSERT CARD.

Will took out his new school ID card. A slot had appeared along one side of the machine. He inserted the card, and the tablet read its metallic strip, then ejected the card.

Words appeared on the screen: AUTHENTICATE, PLEASE.

A pulsating outline of a left hand appeared on-screen, fingers spread, like the outlines he’d seen on Robbins’s device. Will extended his left hand toward the outline. An inch shy of it he felt a burst of warmth.

As he touched the screen, the outline locked onto his hand. Subtle currents flowed beneath his skin, then with a flash of light the outline faded. A majestic major chord filled the room. The display dissolved to a greeting screen that featured the Center’s crest floating on a shimmering dark blue field. Moments later, a row of conventional interface icons faded in along the bottom of the screen.