Selfie: Device Kids Book One

by D. S. Murphy

  Half the school was standing behind her, including Greg. He just stood there gaping. David was the first to actually help, but I pushed him away. I didn’t want to be helped. I didn’t want to be rescued. I just wanted to be alone. I ran across the parking lot and into the woods. I heard David shout my name, but I kept going until I was swallowed up by the pines and mist and darkness.

  ***

  It took me an hour to get home. I came in through the garage, opening the side door with the key we always leave under the mat. I didn’t want Dad to see me like this. My dress was torn and covered in dirt. My head and knee ached and I had scratches all over. I changed into an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt I kept in the garage, it was covered in oil but soft and warm.

  It made me feel like myself, but who even was that anymore? I reached up and felt my ears—they were already shifting back to normal, but were still sharp and elongated. Maybe I was a freak. How could I have been stupid enough to take those pictures? I’d never really cared what people thought of me, because I knew they didn’t really know me. After Mom died, high school drama just seemed too trivial. I was happy to be invisible. But now the whole school saw me. All of them, and all of me. Maybe Melissa was right. I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. No wonder Greg didn’t like me.

  I turned off all the mods, letting the therabots restore my DNA to its default setting. My whole body was itching now. I was sweating, but the cool fall air tickled my wet skin, driving a chill deep into my bones. My eyes felt like they were on fire. I’d never felt this way after de-modification. Part of me was worried, and I reached for my phone to tell David about it. I’d gotten several messages from Amy, asking to come over, but I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. I sent her a quick message so she’d stop worrying.

  Need some time. Talk tomorrow.

  I let my fingertips trail over my skin, trying to distract myself from the itching. I paused when I got to the row of lines on my shoulder. After Mom, cutting was the only way to distract myself from the loss and longing. The sharp pain made me feel alive. Later, it became a punishment. Whenever I was too happy, or I hadn’t thought about her all day, or I didn’t feel the sadness anymore and felt guilty about it. Cutting was a small relief; one little something I had some control over. Nobody else knew.

  I reached for the blowtorch on my workshop and flicked it on, watching the blue and yellow fire shoot out of the metal barrel and hiss. Then I held it closer to my skin, so I could feel the warmth of the glowing red tip.

  Just when the pain started getting intense, a message from David popped up on my phone.

  You OK?

  Fine.

  What happened... I’m so sorry. But it’ll blow over. I’ve been teased before. It hurts but you’ll get past it.

  Not like this.

  I’m just saying, I know how you feel.

  No, you don’t.

  He knows how I feel? Being seen naked by the whole school? He had no idea how I was feeling. I knew he was just trying to help, but it made me so angry to hear sympathetic platitudes. You’ll get through it. She’s in a better place. I didn’t want David feeling sorry for me. I didn’t want pity from anyone.

  I went upstairs quickly and jumped in the shower, letting the hot water smooth the tension in my neck and shoulders. I stayed there for half an hour. I was too exhausted to think, but too depressed to sleep, so I changed into pajamas and found a drama to watch on Netflix. I had my earbuds in, so I didn’t notice the tapping sound at first. After awhile, I realized it wasn’t coming from my computer. It was coming from the window. My eyes went round as I looked outside and saw a figure stranding in the rain.

  Greg. Still in his blue tuxedo from the dance, his bleached hair like a beacon outside my window, dripping wet. For a second, we just stared at each other. I wanted to tell him to go away, but I was too stunned. What was he even doing here? Finally I pointed towards the back porch, then tiptoed downstairs. The house was dark, everyone was already asleep.

  I grabbed a jacket and tugged it on over my pajamas, then pulled a blanket off the couch. I opened the door and wrapped it around Greg’s shivering shoulders.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I found the messages, sent from my phone. She hid them in a private folder. I had no idea she was messing with you.”

  I crossed my arms and looked away. This wasn’t just about the messages.

  “How about the stolen pictures? The blackmail? Then tonight—”

  “I know,” he said quickly. “If it was anybody else, I might have looked past it. I know Melissa can get carried away sometimes. I know she can seem like a bitch to those who don’t know her. But after what she did to you tonight, things can’t just go on the same as before.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “It’s over. I ended it.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?” Greg was so close, we were sitting on the bench on the back porch, looking at each other. Alone. My skin was starting to warm as my pulse raced.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just had to see you. To tell you that, whatever her plan was, to embarrass you or whatever, it didn’t work. Not to the people who count, the ones that really know you. The ones that can see how beautiful, and strong you are.”

  We were just inches apart now, but the distance seemed unbearable. My eyes were drawn to his lips, and I felt pulled forward, by a magnetic force, until we were touching.

  I was kissing Greg Masters. The kiss I’d been dreaming of for years. For a sweet second, everything was right in the world, and butterflies celebrated in my stomach, and fireworks went off in my head. Then I realized he wasn’t kissing me back.

  I pulled away suddenly and wiped my mouth.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I’m just really confused right now.”

  It’s not you, it’s me. I’d misread the situation, and now Greg was trying to let me down easy, with cliché break up lines. An hour ago, I didn’t think this night could get any worse, or that I could be any more embarrassed. I was wrong.

  17

  The next day I told Dad I was sick and stayed home from school. For half the day I ate ice cream and cereal while bingewatching Netflix from my bed. I’d turned my phone off, but curiosity finally got the best of me. There were a bunch of messages from Amy. There were also dozens from girls at my school calling me a desperate loser, and much worse.

  On Facebook, someone had set up a fake account with my picture under the name Basic Bree. It already had hundreds of friends; I recognized the names of most of the senior class. Inside was a gallery of all my nude selfies, as well as a few videos from last night. I watched them out of morbid curiosity, trying not to read the hateful comments or the descriptions of what guys wanted to do to me. Side by side, the differences were startling. I brought up a picture of me before, and a picture of me at the dance, and put them close together on my screen. It looked like I’d been photoshopped; it didn’t look real. But it had been real.

  Melissa and everyone on the Facebook page was calling me a fraud or a cheat. She also accused me of sending the nudes to Greg’s phone, trying to steal her boyfriend. But nobody could figure out how I’d changed my appearance so rapidly, and it was driving them crazy. There were a lot of speculative theories. Most people thought I’d been getting cosmetic surgery, but they’d be surprised when I came back to school looking normal. My features were almost my own again. Almost, I realized suddenly, jumping up and grabbing a mirror.

  I turned the app off before going to bed last night. Everything except the basic health and healing function, and the bots did their thing and reset to my default. Except... it didn’t completely work.

  My eyes weren’t as large as they’d gotten last night, but they were still slightly rounder. My eyelashes were dark and full. And my
hair was still pinkish purple. Most of it had faded to a dark purple, but there was a bright streak of pink on one side. When I looked carefully, there was a tiny dent on the top of my ears where they’d been folded together.

  Also, I realized, the cuts and bruises I’d received last night were practically healed. That shouldn’t have been possible. David said, if we stack more mods while we already have some running, we might get stuck with the effects—but I hadn’t done that. Had I done too much at once, or stretched nature too far?

  Something had definitely gone wrong. I still looked human, and mostly like myself, just slightly more exotic. I don’t think even Dad would notice the changes. But I could tell. I wasn’t entirely me anymore. I was changed, and I could be stuck this way.

  Just then, someone uploaded a new video with the title, seriously tho, WTF? The video showed me on stage with the nude pics behind me. I started to cry and run off stage, pushing through the crowd. Then another video started, it was spliced on. It was MUCH closer, and I realized it was the one Melissa took when she was standing over me. But in this video, my eyes were bright pink. They were practically glowing in the darkness, but it wasn’t the only difference—my eyes were much smaller, as if the therabots had already reset the size, and my hair was at least an inch longer. The video ended by comparing the nude pics, pics from the dance, and stills from Melissa’s video. There were arrows pointing out the differences and the time stamps.

  The poster commented, how does someone change this much, this quickly? It was a good question. I didn’t know what had happened. I needed to find David and get him to check my blood. I felt fine, good actually, physically. Emotionally I was a pincushion. But I’d never cared what Melissa thought, why start now?

  I wasn’t ready to face Greg. I didn’t know if he liked me or if he just felt sorry for me. I shouldn’t have kissed him, even if he had broken up with Melissa, it was too soon. But it was just a moment of temporary insanity. I could blame it on the bots.

  Maybe it was because I was safe at home, but I decided I was done letting people talk about me behind my back. At least we’d gotten their attention. The whole school was together right now, looking at Basic Bree’s profile. I couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. I took a selfie, then put it next to a picture from the dance with my fully modded self, and one of the portraits I’d taken weeks ago before I started modding. I put all three together and shared them on Facebook and social media, with the dates in red, and a few hashtags. #selfie #nofilter #nomakeup #selfX.

  Then I put down the phone again. I’d just walked into the kitchen and was rummaging through the cupboards for food when the door rang. Amy was standing on the other side, holding a bag of burgers, fries and chocolate milkshakes.

  “My savior,” I said, grabbing the bag. “Wait, don’t you have school?”

  “We’re on lunch. The guys didn’t want to meet without you, and they thought I should come check on you. David especially, he seems really worried. He wanted to come himself but I said you probably didn’t want visitors.”

  I wondered if Greg had told her about his late night visit, but from her expression I didn’t think so. My cheeks heated up thinking about the kiss.

  “Also, we saw your post. That was smart. Brad made a video earlier, he’s been sharing it and building links and traffic.”

  “He made that?” I asked.

  “Yeah, well... I mean obviously the naked pictures were never part of the plan, and everyone feels terrible, but at least the app works, right? I mean, you said you wanted to launch SelfX at the dance, and we kind of did that. People are talking. This doesn’t have to change anything.”

  “You think I’m wavering, because of last night? They sent you to check on me, because they think I’ll back out, or quit the project?”

  “Screw the project,” Amy said, pushing into the house. “I’m just here for you.”

  We watched mid-day soap operas for awhile. Amy dipped her fries into her milkshake, like usual, and put her feet up on the couch. It was nice not to be alone. She even skipped the next period so we could hang out longer.

  When I looked in the Facebook group again, I saw Brad had shared the video to Reddit and YouTube, using the hashtags from my post. It already had over 10,000 views. I put the phone on the table to grab more ketchup, and I heard it buzz as I got a new message.

  “Woah,” Amy said a second later. “Have you seen this?” Her eyes were wide as she showed me the screen. My heart raced as I read the subject.

  Hacking Therabots?

  Someone knew what we were doing. Then I saw the sender’s name.

  Todd Brieker.

  The founder of Arcana. The inventor of the aPhone, of Illius.

  “It’s got to be a joke,” I said.

  “Open it!” Amy squealed, gripping my arm. I clicked to open the email, with Amy reading over my shoulder.

  Very interested in your project, if it’s what I think it is. Would love to chat. Log into Illius and I’ll tell you more.

  My heart raced as I logged into my Illius account, and saw an alert pop up. A friend request from Todd Brieker. How could he possibly know what I was doing? And what did he want from me? I clicked accept, and a new message popped up immediately.

  I think it’s best we talk about this face to face... I’ve set up a private VR conference room for us. Just let me know when a good time would be.

  “Do it!” Amy said, her eyes wide.

  “What about the others?” I asked. “No more secrets, remember?”

  I have partners, I wrote back.

  Bring them, Todd said. Then he shared a link to a virtual conference room. I pulled up our group chat in Facebook and sent a message.

  Todd Brieker wants a face-to-face. Don’t know what he knows yet. Anyone want to join?

  After the initial surprise and panicked exclamations, David wrote,

  If he wanted to go to the police, he’d have done it already. He wants something else. I’ll come.

  I’m in too, Brad wrote. Don’t want you two brokering deals behind my back.

  We couldn’t reach Greg, but Amy said we couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Whatever this was, it could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. I forwarded the link to Brad and David, then held my breath and clicked the link.

  ***

  I was standing in a meadow—or more like an English garden, with sculpted bushes. It was thick with rhododendron flowers that let off a sweet floral scent. Behind the plants I saw rows of sleek desks on all sides. I looked up and saw what appeared to the open sky, with blue, fluffy white clouds. I was sure it had been overcast at home.

  David and Greg appeared next to me a minute later. We were wearing our basic mods, based on our face scans, and looked more or less like ourselves. I noticed we were all dressed alike, in simple white garments.

  “What the Hell,” Brad said, turning his arms and looking at his clothes.

  “Sorry about that,” a voice said. Through the bushes we saw a man sitting on a bench, writing something on a tablet. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater. “We strip all the code from visitors to protect ourself from hacks. Company policy.”

  “You still have some,” David raised an eyebrow. Todd was wearing tan pants, a blue collared shirt and a black sweater. He had glasses with dark, square frames and perfectly combed gray hair. He was bigger than I would have guessed though, at least six feet. I couldn’t believe I was in the same room with him, the same virtual room anyway.

  “Home court advantage,” Todd shrugged.

  I let my eyes drift around the space, unveiling more and more detail. The meadow was actually a square courtyard in the center of massive glass building, with windows so thin it looked like you could walk straight through them. Beyond the steel desks was a view of a city.

  “Is that Shanghai?” I asked. Todd smirked and crossed his fingers. The view blurred and suddenly we were deep in the rainforest. I saw a glimpse of an ancient temple through the leaves, and heard monkey c
alls. Then it changed again. Stars, space, planets. Universes, galaxies. I grabbed David as the floor vanished beneath me, and we were left standing in pure open space. The next one showed a castle on a hill, with a waterfall, flowing through the building, and falling away below. Todd left this one on and turned to face us.

  “We like our guests to feel at home,” Todd said.

  “Intimidated, you mean,” Brad grumbled.

  Like nearly everyone else, the events of my life had been punctuated by Arcana’s annual product release announcements about the latest aPhone. And it was more than just a metronome: jail breaking Arcana’s operating system so you could run unapproved apps was a rite of passage for most kids my age. I’d done it in 3rd grade. And now here he was, the man, the myth, the legend—in the virtual flesh. Not on the cover of Forbes or Wired magazine. Right in front of me.

  “Why are we here,” I blurted out suddenly. My cheeks warmed in embarrassment, but I was too nervous to be tactful.

  “Straight the point then,” Todd said. He jumped up and gestured us to follow him. I noticed the walls shifted as we walked—the entire office space was doorless but the depth was an illusion; I thought at first the sliding glass panels were transparent, then I realized some were mirrors when I caught my own reflection. It made it impossible to guess the true size. I had to keep reminding myself that none of this was real; that it was all VR. But the depth and quality was better than anything I’d experienced before. Todd stepped into something that seemed like the cockpit of a space station, with huge curved panels and a polished floor of white marble. In the corner I spotted a white leather couch and even a polar bear rug on the floor, snarling with extended fangs. Orbs of light floated around the room, reminding me of fairy lanterns.