Unchanged (10 page)

The foreign languages are fun but anyone with a Slate can run our sentences through a translator and understand. This is a language only for us.

The energy of my fingers moving against his chest is enough to distract him and pull him out of his state. I smile at him but he's still too riled up to return the gesture.

The hush on the platform is palpable. No one even dares to breathe. All eyes are on us.

I gently wrap my hand around Kaelen's and give it a tug, pulling him behind a VersaScreen programmed to display the list of arrivals and departures. It gives us a little privacy.

I hear footsteps approaching and I turn to see Raze coming over to us. I hold up my hand, warning him not to come any closer. “What happened?” I ask Raze.

He shakes his head, visibly dazed. “I-I-I'm not sure.” I don't think I've ever heard Raze stammer before. “We disembarked and they jumped at us with their cams and Kaelen just warped out.”

I nod. “Give us a minute.”

Raze obliges, backtracking and calling orders to his agents to start the damage control. Something has to be done to cover this up.

Once we're alone and the rest of the team is busy cleaning up the mess Kaelen made, my brain finally has a chance to make sense of what has happened.

Kaelen attacked someone.
Multiple
someones. Each of them clearly unable to compete with his strength, speed, and reflexes.

I think back to his face—the rash, unseeing eyes, the agape mouth, the red irritated skin. It's like he turned into someone else. Some
thing
else. And now that it's over and I'm able to sort through my thoughts, I can finally identify how it made me feel.

Terrified.

The realization seizes my breath.

Where did he learn that?

I never would have reacted that way. If we're made from complementary genetic blueprints shouldn't we have similar responses to situations?

I think about the proud look on Dr. A's face as he watched Kaelen's reaction.

Is
this
what Dr. A wants of us?

Is
this
what makes Kaelen a better ExGen? A better soldier for the Objective?

“Normally I'm pretty good at reading you.” Kaelen's voice interrupts my thoughts. “But right now I'm at a loss.”

I peer up at him, relieved to see his features have lost that frightening rigidity and, aside from his genetic disguise, he's almost back to his normal self.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

I want to tell him the truth about what I'm feeling, about the disturbing thoughts streaming through my mind. But I'm not sure how he'll react. So I make something up.

“I was thinking of an upload I received about fish.”

He breaks into laughter. It's a beautiful sound. “Has anyone ever told you you're a horrible liar?”

I smile. “Actually, yes.”

“Do I need to put my nanoscanners on and steal the thoughts right out of your brain?”

I smile. I know he's joking. He hasn't used the nanoscanners on me since my escape, when he needed to access my memories so that he could fulfill his mission. Back then, my loyalties were so distorted, I tried to keep things from him. Things that would help the Objective.

Thankfully, now I know better.

“I was thinking about what happened,” I finally admit. “Back there.”

“I know that. But
what
are you thinking about it?”

I look directly into his eyes. I need to see his reaction when I say this. “I'm thinking that I don't understand it. I'm thinking that it scared me. I'm wondering why you felt the need to attack those people.”

Kaelen's shoulders rise dramatically as he takes his next breath. He tears his gaze from mine and stares at my hyperloop capsule, which still lies empty and open on the loading track.

“I don't know,” he finally says with a sigh.

“You don't know?”

He shakes his head. “I … it just … came over me. I couldn't control it. It controlled me. Like it was … part of me or something.”

“You think it was a stimulated-response system?” I ask, referring to the technology Diotech used to try to make me kill Dr. Maxxer in 2032.

“No,” he admits. “It felt deeper than that. I can't explain it. I just knew they were a threat so I reacted.”

“It didn't look like they were a threat to you,” I say after a moment. “
You
were a threat to
them
.”

Kaelen cringes. “I know. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?”

“Will you try to figure out what it is? So you can work on controlling it?”

“Yes. Will you forgive me?”

“I'm serious.”

“I am, too. Forgive me.”

“I will. Eventually.”

“No.
Now.
Forgive me now.” He grins. Then he rests his hand on my arm and starts to repeat his plea in our secret code. The same one I just used to distract him from his monstrous trance.

His index, middle, and fourth fingers play the F.

His thumb, index, and middle fingers play the O.

Middle, forth, pinkie
=
R.

I crack the tiniest of smiles and pull my arm away. “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I forgive you.”

“You have to say that, you know. It's in your DNA.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“To love you? Yes. To think you're not capable of totally glitching up? Not that I'm aware of.”

 

17

HOSPITALITY

Our hotel in downtown Los Angeles is completely empty, just like the hyperloop stations. The streamwork bought up every room. Only a few key employees remain. Enough to get us settled in and prepare our meals. Everyone else has been sent home.

Walking through the well-appointed lobby, I feel as though I'm walking through a ghostly dream. The check-in kiosks have been shut down. The gift shop is dark and closed off behind a synthoglass barrier. All the tables in the restaurant are set for diners who won't appear.

“Once we reveal you on Mosima's show tomorrow,” Crest assures me, “we won't have to take so many precautions.”

But after what just occurred on the hyperloop platform, I almost wonder if we didn't take
enough
precautions. And the most unsettling part is that no one seems to be particularly rattled by it except me. Judging by everyone's behavior during the short hovercopter ride here, you would think the whole thing never even happened.

“Why didn't we ride out tomorrow and go straight to the show?” I ask Crest.

“Dane was worried about the effect of the hyperloop. It's been known to disorient people. This way you'll get a nice rest and be completely refreshed and prepared for tomorrow's interview.”

It's going to take more than just a night's sleep to prepare me for tomorrow's interview.

“And,” Crest adds with a bubbly flourish of her hands, “I hear the view from your room is spectacular. You can practically see all of Los Angeles.”

I want to tell her that I don't care about seeing Los Angeles. If anything, I'd like to forget we're even in this city. Los Angeles is where it all started. Where I crash-landed with no memories after escaping with the boy. He found me, swore we were in love, and seduced me into leaving with him again. Sometimes, I like to think about how differently things would have worked out if I hadn't trusted him. If I had let Diotech apprehend me and bring me back right away, instead of leading them on a wild chase through time.

Would Dr. A still look at me with those accusing eyes?

Would the Objective already be complete?

The entire top floor of the hotel is ours. Kaelen and I have our own suites next to each other. Naturally, Dr. A has the Owner's Suite, while Dane and Crest are a few doors away from us. Director Raze has stationed his guards—the ones who weren't injured in the debacle earlier—at various posts down the hallway and throughout the lobby.

Crest sends me to my suite to rest before evening meal. The first thing I do when the door is sealed shut behind me is retrieve the small cube drive from my shoe, where it has been digging into my toes for the past few hours. I turn it over in my palm, studying its sleek metallic surface and wondering if I'll ever know what's inside.

How can I possibly access the drive when I'm watched constantly? When my DigiLenses and Slate are tracked and my memories are scanned on a weekly basis? How could I ever explain that kind of curiosity to Dr. A? It would be perceived as weakness. It would be perceived as faultiness.

Will I be forced to live forever never knowing what's stored in here?

Crest pings me a few hours later and tells me to join everyone in the Hospitality Suite. I place the drive in the drawer of my nightstand, run to the bathroom, splash some cold water on my face, and gaze at my genetically disfigured reflection in the glass.

Despite the fact I barely recognize the face that stares back at me, despite the fact that she's practically a stranger, there's something achingly familiar about her. Even comforting. Like she's been there the whole time, concealed just below the surface. Hiding behind a layer of flawless golden skin, unnaturally purple eyes, a nose and mouth too perfect to exist outside of a lab. Patiently waiting to make her appearance. Waiting to reveal herself to me.

I'm halfway down the hall when I realize I still haven't changed my clothes. But as soon as I enter the large common room labeled
HOSPITALITY SUITE
, it becomes evident that no one is interested in what I'm wearing. Particularly not Dr. A, who is currently standing behind his chair, ranting irately about something.

“What do you mean you
can't
find her?” he bellows at Director Raze, ignoring my entrance completely.

I slip into an empty seat at the table, next to Crest, who gives me a warning look and a slight nudge with her elbow.

Just stay quiet
, the look says.

Her warning is superfluous. I, of anyone, know how to behave when Dr. A is in one of his moods.

“I mean,” Raze replies, struggling to keep his composure, “she's gone completely off-line. Shut down all devices. There's no way to track her unless she turns something on. A Slate. A Lens. Even a glitching oven.”

“So you're saying we have
no way
of tracking her?” Dr. A asks impatiently. “She could be raising a goddamn bloody army right now and we wouldn't know.”

I sneak a glimpse at Dane, who cringes slightly behind a sip of wine.

“She's not raising an army,” Raze assuages. “She doesn't have the reach. Or the influence. Trust me, sir, Jenza Paddok is not the one we need to be worried about. Peder is the one to focus on.”

Jenza Paddok.

Should that name be familiar to me?

It isn't.

Dr. A starts to pace behind his chair. He drags his fingers through his silky blond hair, which I notice is fairly disheveled and starting to thin. He hasn't been for a thickening treatment in a while. I wonder when was the last time he slept. “How many did she have before you lost her?”

“Sir, I didn't
lose
her. She disconnected.”

Dr. A is clearly not interested in debating semantics. “How many?”

Raze blinks several times, accessing data from his Lenses. “Twenty at the most.”

Dr. A scoffs at this. “Child's play.”

Dane nods fervently in agreement. “Nothing to concern ourselves with.”

“Exactly.” Raze jumps back in. “I recommend we continue to focus our resources on Peder. His numbers are growing by the day. He's getting more and more airtime on the Feed. And he'll be all over the Unveiling tomorrow morning.”

There's a tense silence as we wait for Dr. A's response. For that long, thick moment, no one even chews.

“Very good,” Dr. A finally agrees, lowering himself into his chair and picking up his fork. I feel the room deflate in simultaneous relief.

“Also,” Director Raze adds, and my muscles tighten again as I take a hesitant bite from the food on my plate, “I've taken care of the other matter.”

Dr. A shares a knowing look with Kaelen. “Very good.”

I know that I've missed something in the past few hours and even though my common sense is telling me to tread lightly on this thin sheet of ice Dr. A has frozen around us, I hate being out of the know.

“What other matter?” I ask.

I don't expect to receive an answer, which is why I'm surprised when Dr. A says, “The matter of the paparazzi who found us at the hyperloop station.”

My heart starts to pound. “What happened to them?”

“The four who lived to tell won't have anything to tell.”

Dr. A's words are like insects crawling up my spine.

“The four who lived to tell…”

That means two of them are dead. The two Kaelen attacked. And the other four have had their memories altered.

Dane catches my eye, offering me a sad smile. “We couldn't have them selling those memories to the tabloids,” he explains.

His answer makes me want to scream. Doesn't he get it? It's not the four altered memories that make me want to vomit right now. It's the two people who will never have another memory again. Kaelen
killed
two people. And everyone is sitting around acting like it doesn't matter.

There's an uncomfortable pause and I sense Dr. A studying me. When I look up, his eyebrows are knit together and his head is cocked. “Do you have a problem with how this was handled, Sera?”

I realize that my face has betrayed me. Exposed the horror behind my mask. I will it back into submission. “No. Of course not.”

Because how else can I respond? Anything I say that opposes Dr. A or Director Raze is the same as opposing the Objective. And that will only make things way worse.