Selfie: Device Kids Book One

by D. S. Murphy

  Some of our classmates were all dressed up, with painted faces and pom-poms, cheering for our team. It was easy enough to follow the game, even though I didn’t know all the rules. I used to come watch all the games, but Melissa was a cheerleader and she started giving me stink-eye when I just came to drool over Greg. Tonight, I didn’t care. I kept my eyes on his body, watching the way he moved. Tall and graceful. And he was good. Better than I remembered. At one point he slam-dunked the ball into the hoop with a jump that almost defied belief.

  I realized I could predict which way the players were going to move by the way their muscles contracted. It was frustrating to watch as they faked each other out.

  “What do you think the basketball league will do if they find out he’s using?” Brad said.

  “It’s not illegal,” David said.

  “Genetic modification for sports enhancement?” Amy asked. “It will be. It hasn’t been banned because nobody thinks it’s possible. I hadn’t thought about how this would impact sports. Will the Olympics need to get screened for therabot use?”

  “Head’s up,” Brad said, nodding to the door.

  Two men in dark suits strode in. Even from here I could see the small earbuds and the bulge under their jackets from holstered weapons.

  “They don’t look local,” Amy said.

  “FBI, probably,” David said.

  The two men scanned the audience. Their eyes seemed to linger, on me especially, but then they sat in front watching the game.

  “You think they’re here for us?” I asked.

  Two more men came in from the other side of the gym. These ones didn’t even look at us before settling into the front row, their eyes focused intently on the game.

  “They’re going to arrest Greg,” I said. “It must be about the app.”

  “We should warn him,” Amy said.

  “What’s he going to do,” I said, “run from the FBI?”

  “Yes,” David said. “Right now, I bet they charge him with domestic terrorism. Which means, no trial. They could hold him indefinitely, use him as leverage against the rest of us.”

  “But we’re not terrorists,” Amy said.

  “Then we need to prove it,” David said. “We just need more time.”

  We made a plan and decided to tell him during the next break. I waved to get his attention. He looked up and smiled at us. It made my heart sink; he thought we were here to support him, like friends. Then he saw our faces and knew something was wrong. I cut down to the sidelines and he met me away from the others, wearing his green and white jersey, with a towel around his neck and drops of sweat glistening from his forehead and cheeks.

  “What’s up?” Greg asked.

  “Keep looking at me, and don’t look up,” I said quietly. Greg nodded and focused on my eyes.

  “There are men in the audience. We think they’re FBI. We think they’re here for you.”

  Greg’s eyes went round.

  “They may try and arrest you after the game. Leave early. Head to the treehouse and stay out there for a few days. Talk to your dad and get a good lawyer. We’ll fight this.”

  He nodded, then reached out and squeezed my fingers. I could feel my heartbeat spike, and realized we were standing in front of the whole school holding hands. For the rest of the game, Greg was distracted and jumpy. He kept staring at the exits, trying not to watch the men in black. Still, he played well, racking up over a dozen points for his team. The final score was close but we were behind by one point. With a few seconds on the clock, Greg shot from the three-point line. I held my breath as it swished through the hoop just before the final buzzer rang. The stands erupted into cheers, and Greg’s team lifted him up and carried him around the gym floor. He looked nervous though and kept pushing them off until they let him down again. He tried to head straight to the locker room, but two of the men cut him off, blocking the door. He turned back the other way, but he was trapped as the other two men blocked his exit.

  “Run!” I shouted.

  I ran down the steps of the bleachers and kicked over the cooler of Gatorade. It fell and splashed over two of the agents. One of them slipped on the ice, hitting the ground hard. The other threw me a glare and muttered something under his breath. Greg raced back across the court. A fifth agent moved to intercept him. Greg pivoted out of his grasp, sprinted straight towards the other two agents, and jumped over them.

  My mouth dropped as Greg soared at least fifteen feet into the air. His face was full of shock and he flailed his arms before catching the side of the hoop and hanging on. He started to pull himself up, but one of the agents shot him with a taser. His body convulsed as it was racked with electricity, then he let go and crashed to the floor, writhing on the ground with the whites of his eyes showing.

  22

  Two of the men picked Greg up, carrying him towards the exit by his arms and legs. The other two cleared the way. David and a few other students blocked their path.

  “You can’t just arrest him,” David said. “What about his rights?”

  One of the men sneered. His head was shaven and I could see the hint of a tattoo on his neck. Instead of responding, he punched David hard in the face, without breaking his stride, then pushed through the other students.

  David collapsed, blood streaming from his nose. I ran to his side and helped him up.

  “I’m okay,” he said, pushing my hand away.

  “We’ve got to follow them,” Amy said. We ran to the parking lot just in time to see the men shove Greg into a black van. A second later Brad pulled up in the red sports car.

  “We gonna save our boy or what?” he asked.

  Amy jumped in next to him, but David arched an eyebrow at the two tiny backseats and waved them off.

  “Don’t lose them,” he yelled. “We’re right behind you.”

  Brad peeled out of the parking lot and followed the black van down the road. David and I ran to his car and followed them. Amy pinned her location so I knew where they were. They cut across town and got on the highway. But a couple stops later, they exited again and cut through a curving, forested path. We were close enough to see their taillights through the trees.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “They’re headed for the old airport,” David said.

  Just then, the lead vehicle slammed on the brakes. The red car screeched ahead of us, swerving to avoid hitting the van. It was still moving too fast, so Brad veered the red car to the side and ended up next to the van. The van slammed into the car, knocking it sideways off the side of the road. The sports car smashed into a tree and crumpled like a tin can. I felt the crunch of metal under my skin. It felt like my skin was being ripped off, like the universe had been torn in half.

  “Stop!” I screamed.

  “We should keep going,” David said, his eyes trained on the black van, which was speeding up again. I grabbed the wheel and spun it hard. David slammed on the brakes and wrestled with his car for control, before skidding to a stop in the middle of the road.

  I jumped out and ran back down the road until I could see the red car, practically folded in half around a tree trunk. Smoke was rising from the front. When I was close enough, it erupted into flames. The heat and force of the explosion blew my hair back. David grabbed me and held my arms as I sank to the ground. For a long moment there was silence, then I felt David’s muscles tense behind me.

  “Something is moving,” he said quietly, tightening his grip.

  Before I could respond, the car was ripped open from the inside. Half the frame bent outward, punctuated by the creaking sound of metal, then the side door snapped off from the body with a loud twang. A figure stood up, still holding nearly a third of the car. He tossed it away and it skidded down the road in a trail of sparks. In the glow of the flames, I could only see the silhouette of his bulky arms and shoulders, as rippling muscles burst out of scraps of leather and black fabric. He tilted his head into the light and I could see it was Brad, only he’d practically
doubled in size. He was probably eight feet tall now and built like a tank. I held my breath as another figure crawled out of the car next to him, her body surrounded with fire.

  Red and orange flames flickered around Amy. She looked like a lit torch, but didn’t appear to be in pain. She stretched out her hands, her eyes wide, and watched the glow of the flames lick her skin.

  ***

  I stood in shock, staring at Amy in disbelief. David was faster to react. He grabbed a blanket from his car and wrapped it around her shoulders. It singed as it smothered the flames, and left Amy smoking like a doused candle. I approached cautiously and checked her skin. It was hot to the touch, but smooth.

  “We’ve got to get off the streets.” David said. I didn’t know how he could be so calm and collected. I was still having trouble putting words together.

  “Can’t fit,” Brad said, looking at the back of his hands, then turning his palms up and wiggling his hotdog-sized fingers.

  “I don’t suppose you could like, turn back to normal?”

  “How exactly, genius?”

  “I don’t know,” David said. “How did you do this?”

  “Dude I have no idea,” Brad said. “It just happened.”

  “Greg’s house isn’t that far,” Amy said. “The treehouse is off the grid.”

  David nodded and pointed through the trees. “It’s a couple miles. Think you’ll be alright?”

  “Yeah,” Brad said, his eyes pulling back to Amy reluctantly, like he was afraid to leave her. “Just keep them safe.”

  Then he turned and jumped into the trees.

  I sat with Amy in the backseat of David’s car. I wanted to be close to her, but I didn’t know what to say, so I just squeezed her hand. David started the engine and cut through town using the small roads. Far away we could hear sirens.

  “I should have died back there,” Amy said finally.

  “But you didn’t,” I said.

  “Severe stress. Defense mechanism,” David called over his shoulder, as if that explained everything. As if it was normal behavior.

  “Brad saved me,” she said, closing her eyes. “Just before we hit the tree, he wrapped his arms around me. They were like steel bars on a carnival ride. I think I might have bruised my ribs.”

  She lifted her shirt to show a dark purple bruise across her abdomen. She also had small cuts on her arms and face from the broken glass, and her eyes looked darker, or maybe just her eyebrows. Fiercer, somehow. More dangerous.

  “And then?” David asked, peering through the rearview mirror.

  “Then, the engine exploded. There was this wall of fire. I put my hand up, to stop it, and it… went inside me. I screamed, and I felt it in my throat, it was everywhere. Then it stopped hurting.”

  My phone beeped, reminding me of the messages I’d been ignoring. Another one from Jens. He knew I was responsible for the app. It had seemed like a big deal earlier, but now everybody knew. However his latest message chilled my blood, and I felt goosebumps flourish on my skin.

  Don’t go home. They’re waiting.

  What are you talking about? I texted back.

  Instead of answering, he posted a link to a private Illius VR room.

  “Shit,” I said.

  “What is it?”

  “I have an online friend, he wants to meet. I think he might have information for us. But I broke my phone at school today, and I don’t have my gear.”

  “Want us to stop and get it?” David asked.

  “Maybe, but he told me specifically not to go home.”

  That caught David’s interest.

  “Who is this guy?”

  “I don’t know, really. Friend from World of Legends.”

  “And you trust him?”

  I nodded. I’d known Jens since way before all this stuff started happening with the therabots.

  “I’ll park around the corner,” David said. “Can you sneak in?”

  “Can I sneak in,” I repeated, rolling my eyes.

  David turned off the headlights and pulled up to the curb once we were near my house. The porchlights were on and the lights in the living room cast a yellow glow on the lawn outside. I peered into the darkness of my street, and my eyes felt like pieces of glass sliding together as I focused. I could see clearer, and farther in the dark than I’d ever been able to before. I even saw Mrs. Couch’s black cat hiding in the tree across the street. But no parked van or surveillance. Maybe Jens was wrong? I cut around the block, through our neighbor’s backyard, then quickly climbed the side of the house to reach my window. I kept a coat hanger hidden under the sill so I could remove the inside latch and lift the window.

  I grabbed my VR set and one of Todd’s new phones. I was halfway back out the window when I heard voices downstairs. Dad must be home. Then another, lighter voice flooded my chest with hope. I opened the bedroom door and crept downstairs, but quickly realized it wasn’t Megan, though the voice sounded familiar. I crept down the stairs, and peered into the living room using the reflective plane of glass over a Japanese print in the stairwell.

  I could just make out my father and Ms. Vanessa Briggs sitting together on the couch. In the glow of the lamp I could see the half finished bottle of wine between them. She shifted, crossing her legs, revealing a sliver of thigh. My blood boiled. Megan was still in the hospital and Dad was here, having an intimate chat with my guidance counselor?

  “I had no idea,” my dad said. He was gripping a phone and I zoomed in to see he was looking at the Basic Bree Facebook page. Shit, Vanessa must have shown it to him.

  “All this bullying, the things she’s been dealing with. I should have been more understanding, more aware at least.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Vanessa said, laying her hand across his shoulder and patting his back with her scarlet manicure. I wanted to slap her hand away, but instead ran back upstairs, seething. I’d deal with them later.

  I ran back to David’s car and we drove in silence to Greg’s house. The lights were all off, so we passed the driveway and parked in the woods. The cabin was far enough away that there was no security, and not much risk of getting found.

  “Look, there’s a cable,” I said, nodding at the wires leading up to the tree house.

  “I guess there’d have to be, for the lights,” Amy said.

  Once inside, I started porting my new phone, backing up all the data and my modded programs to the new one. I fell asleep waiting for the transfer to finish. A few hours later, I heard my mother’s voice, murmuring. I thought it was a dream at first until David nudged me awake. I’d curled up against his chest, with the phone under my arm.

  “Sorry,” I said, pulling away quickly.

  “It’s fine,” he said. “You didn’t drool that much.”

  My eyes went wide, searching his shirt for a wet spot, but then he smirked and I punched his arm.

  “Your modded version of Gloria was talking,” Brad said. “It was super creepy, it’s like she was talking in her sleep or something.”

  “And that’s the new phone,” David said, nodding at the shiny new aPhone. The cracked, black screen of the older model was bricked, now that all my data and programs had been ported to the new device. I grabbed the phone and flicked through the messages. There were a few more from Jens, and another link to the private channel. The last one was sent twenty minutes ago.

  I stretched and looked out the window. The treehouse was nearly surrounded by thick forest, and it was still early dawn. We hadn’t turned on the string of white Christmas tree lights, and apart from the blue glow of our devices, the small room was mostly dark.

  “I guess there’s no time like the present,” I said, grabbing my VR helmet and gloves. The smooth black lining was soft and flexible against my skin, and the helmet and visor was much lighter than my old model.

  I felt pressure on my hand and jerked away. I wasn’t even logged in yet so I was surprised I felt anything, but then I lifted my visor and realized it was David squeezing my fing
ers.

  “Be careful,” he said. “I wish I could go with you.”

  “I got this,” Brad said, pulling something out of his backpack. It looked like a broken visor, but I realized it was a portable VR lens made from one of the older goggle-style models. When he hooked it around his head with the strap, it looked like a high tech monocle.

  “You look like a space pirate,” Amy said drowsily. She sat up, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

  “Whatever,” Brad said, leaning back against the pillows and putting in his earbuds. “At least this way I can keep an eye on her.”

  “Just one, apparently,” David said.

  “It’s enough,” Brad said.

  “Guys it’s fine, he’s a friend. Plus, it’s not like he can hurt me in VR.”

  David sighed and pushed his hair back. It was messy after our night in the treefort; I realized I was used to seeing it carefully combed, with a rigid part down the side. It looked good like this. And it was kind of nice he was so worried about me. Charming, if also a little annoying. I was used to taking care of myself.

  I nodded at Brad, then texted him the link to the VR session. I leaned back against the pillows in the corner and clicked the link. For a second, the VR googles pulsed quietly, warming up and flooding my vision with a soft beige light. I had the feeling of moving forward rapidly, and then I was flying. My pulse raced as I waved my hands in front of me. I was thousands of feet up, cutting through white, puffy clouds. I could see the sun on the horizon, and down below whole cities flew underneath, sparkling with lights in the early morning.

  “Woah,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Brad answered. I could hear him clearly, despite the wind rushing in my ears. “This is a pretty cool program. Are you running it? It feels like a welcome program, maybe something new Arcana is testing out. I bet you got a beta version on your aPhone.”