by Julian North
I blew a snort of skepticism.
“You don’t agree? After all, he got you to where you are.”
“To serve his own ends. I don’t believe in altruism. I believe in blood. I trust the people in this house. No one else.”
“Including me?”
“Can I trust you?”
He blinked. “Yes.”
“Then tell me the truth. This process of yours…breaking out, as you call it. Is it safe?”
“I believe so, Daniela. You have my word on that. But the only person I’ve used it on is dead. Keep that in mind. I’m brilliant, but not perfect.”
“Great.”
I got up to leave.
“Remember what I said about Kortilla. It’s too risky for us, and her.”
“I got your message, Nythan. You’re probably correct. But Kortilla’s my sister, my family. The other half of me. And you can’t protect someone by keeping secrets from them. You should think about that.”
I left him alone.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Nythan and I rode the subway to Manhattan in silence. We rubbed shoulders with the serving class, the men and women that cleaned Manhattan homes, waited tables, tended to privileged children, and cooked field-grown food that they could never afford for their own families.
“Relieved to be home?” I asked as we walked past the still-dark shops on Madison Avenue. I kept a careful watch on the sky. “It must feel strange walking around without a tin pot over your head.”
“I’ve got extra tin pots at home. And I’m glad to be back, but grateful to get a chance to see your world from the inside, if briefly.”
“Why?”
“Because no new experience is bad. But more because it’s comforting to know that you are surrounded by people who have your back. You’re lucky.” He sounded lonely as he said it.
Nythan led me into the warrens of Tuck, down a staircase I hadn’t noticed before, onto a sub-level below the gym. I recognized the passage that I had walked with Havelock on the day of my tour. We traversed the underground passage to the Lenox Life Center, then entered the same elevator that I had ridden with Havelock.
Nythan took me to a different floor. We stepped off the lift onto an octagon-shaped lobby area, a circular desk at its center. Corridors branched off in five directions. The milky void of the walls was interrupted by a single pink stripe circling the room at chest level and five ruby-red signs that indicated the lab numbers to be found down each hallway. A stern-faced lady nearly as old as Aba, clad in a uniform that matched the walls’ paleness, sat behind the counter.
“The usual lab for me, Ilsa,” Nythan said as we approached.
The attendant’s face didn’t warm. She wore a deep red lipstick that highlighted her age. “Early today, Nythan.”
“I’ve got a couple of things to finish up.” He passed his viser over an obsidian square on the desk then turned to go.
“You know the rules, Nythan. Need to scan your visitor too. Don’t think I’ve seen her before.”
“She’s a Tuck student also. Special lab observation,” Nythan explained. “Doctor Willis arranged it.”
“Scan, please,” she said to me.
I waved my viser over the scanning square, expecting some kind of alarm. But the machine kept quiet.
“Machado?” the lady asked, not hiding her surprise as she reviewed my data.
I gave her a tight smile. “They ran out of lab rats. Had to settle for me.”
Nythan grabbed my arm and pulled me down one of the hallways. Each laboratory was a glass rectangle. A few had tinted panels on the outside that concealed the interior. The rest were slumbering rooms of gentle darkness filled with terminals, scopes, fabricators, and sinister-looking machines of unknown purpose. Only one of the labs was lit. Nythan led me inside, flicking a privacy control as the door shut behind us. The glass walls turned opaque.
Dr. Willis sat on a high, twirling stool, surrounded on three sides by floor-to-ceiling screens displaying data and images in an array of colors. Expensive looking silver plated equipment lined the walls. I recognized a cell analyzer and a fabricator—the biggest one I’d ever seen. A padded lounge-style chair, upholstered in maroon leather, sat just off the center of the room. Scanning machines dangled overhead. An array of ominous-looking instruments waited on a tray table next to the chair.
“Welcome to my second period classroom,” Nythan told me. “The room has countermeasures, good ones. Lenox thinks we’re working on artificial skin. You can speak freely so long as the door is shut.”
“Does that thing have restraints?” I asked, pointing at the chair.
Doc Willis rolled her seat away from the cave of screens around her and came toward me. “Why don’t you sit on one of these stools so we can talk for a bit. Nythan has a fine mind, but what comes out of his mouth can use a bit of polish.”
I forced myself to sit on one of the wheeled seats. The lab was cold, even with my skin’s temperature controls set higher than normal. Dr. Willis wore a long lab coat with her name above a pocket. She looked much more doctorly in the uniform, but no friendlier.
“First, Daniela, you can relax. Even if you agree to let us proceed, the only thing we are going to do today is run scans and tests.”
I didn’t relax at all. “What are the scanning and testing for, exactly?”
“Two very different things. Most of what we need to do is get you ready for the break-out process. To do that, we need to get to know you better, your biology and DNA. We need to verify the presence of the DN10-191 gene, as well as several associated genes that we believe enable its functioning. We need a scan of your brain, so we can see how its regions react to different stimuli. I’ll also give you a medical check-up, to screen for any health issues that could make the breaking out…problematic.”
“How long does all that take? I’ve got Lit in an hour and a half.”
Doc flashed one of her cold doctor smiles. “An hour at most. It’s crunching the data and running the tests that take time. Then we need to modify the breaking out sequence based on that information.”
“When will you be ready for me to…break-out?”
“A week, if we’re working around the clock. Then several more weeks to make sure it’s been effective. After that, we are in the area of the unknown. We don’t know how quickly you’ll be able to use the ability, or how.”
I looked over at Nythan, uncertain. “The event, with Alexander, is on Saturday. And the Allocators’ Ball is the following weekend. Even if we miss that, after last night, we don’t have months. I’m not sure Mateo has months.”
“Doctor Willis doesn’t know you the way I do,” Nythan said. “All we have to go on is Marie-Ann’s progress. I suspect you’ll be in a different league. Headmaster Havelock agrees. You’ll be ready in two weeks. We’ll never get a better opportunity to get someone into Landrew’s house. As for your date with the younger Mr. Fart, we’ve got a more mundane solution.”
My teeth clenched. “What mundane solution?”
“While you’ll have access to the house’s lower levels and common areas for the party, my best guess is that the family levels will be guarded by additional security, including restricted access doors,” Dr. Willis told me. “We’ll get you blueprints, or something close.”
“How do I get up there?”
“If I were you, I’d get your date to take you,” Dr. Willis told me stone-faced.
My back straightened. “Ask for the tour? Or am I a U-date now?”
“I would think a whisper in his ear would get the boy to take you someplace quiet. After that, Nythan’s cooked up a little something to help you.”
Nythan wore a sloppy grin. “We’re going to give you a fake tooth. We just need to take some scans and imprints. Just like Leto Atreides from Dune. Hopefully, this turns out better. Anyway, you bite down on the tooth, then exhale, or plant a juicy smooch on Alexander Fart’s lips, and he’ll be out cold, giving you the run of the place
.”
“Won’t there be weapon scanners there? Especially after the attempt on Landrew’s life?”
Nythan’s self-satisfied smile widened. “That’s the genius of it. They scan for metal and energy. This is going to be solidified clorodrine encased in an enamel shell. You break the shell, the solid inside reacts to the air in your mouth and converts to gas, but slowly. It’ll feel like something lighter than water for just a few moments. With a strong exhale, you should be able to blow it out without catching any of the effect. We’ll give you a counter-stim before the party, just in case.”
“What happens when Alexander wakes up?”
Nythan shrugged. “Maybe a headache. The chemical causes disorientation. He might be upset or suspicious. Or you can tell him he had a great time. Whatever. We’ll have what we need.”
I frowned.
“You’re worried about no second date?” Nythan asked, annoyed. “His family is killing and enslaving millions. You’ll get over it.”
Nythan was right, but that didn’t make me feel any better about this. I didn’t know that Alexander was involved. I didn’t believe that he was.
“What about Kris? If she had something to do with the drone attack yesterday, going to her house isn’t exactly wise.”
Nythan waved away that concern. “She’d never do anything to spoil her party. Particularly if you’re her brother’s date. Probably the safest place you could be. If it even was Kris, which we don’t know. I’d bet on Drake myself.”
“Who else will be upstairs?”
“Landrew is separated from his wife. He has various mistresses, but they aren’t going to be around during Kris’s big gala. It’s only Landrew that’s a potential issue,” Dr. Willis told me.
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Willis rubbed her hands together. “Since the attack, he’s been even more secretive about his whereabouts. We don’t know the extent of his injuries. He might be in the private wing of some hospital. Or recovering in one of their other homes. Or it’s possible he’s got his own set-up in the house. In which case, there would be nurses or doctors as well.”
“Great.”
“Tell them Alexander sent you for something,” Nythan suggested. “You’re smart. You’ll find a way, Daniela.”
Time was ticking away. I would rather be in Lit class than here.
“Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
I made my way back to Tuck on my own. Nythan walked me to the elevator, and I found my way from there. Their scans hadn’t hurt, but I still felt ill as I traveled down the strangely beautiful underground passage back to school. I didn’t like the idea of two strangers knowing more about me than I did. I didn’t like the sound of Nythan’s breaking-out process. And I didn’t like betraying Alexander. Not necessarily in that order.
I thought about Nythan. He’d almost died yesterday. This morning, he was as giddy as a boy in a toy shop. He didn’t care if he was late to class; I doubted he cared about Tuck at all anymore. He was focused on the game he was playing. Maybe that was all this was to him, despite his claim otherwise. I didn’t know what I wanted; to do everything I could to cure the Waste and save Mateo, of course. But preventing this Culling should’ve been burning inside me like an inferno. This was for my family, my people. Yet a part of me hesitated.
I caught a wisp of a familiar voice as I galloped up the stairs to class. It might have been my imagination—he’d been on my mind. Then I heard it again and I knew it was him. It came from the track level. I had just enough time to indulge my curiosity. I wanted to know if I’d see something different in Alexander, knowing what I now knew.
He was in the hallway, just off the staircase, dressed in his Tuck skin, his hair wet. Opposite him was the swan-like form of his elder sister. I had barely peeked around the corner, but she filled my vision like an oncoming train. Even just standing as she was, I could feel her presence. It was hard to peel my eyes away. I imagined her walking into a dingy warehouse on the fringe of Manhattan, appearing like a prophet risen anew, and taking what she desired by sheer force of will. It was a fanciful story—to someone who hadn’t met Kristolan.
“That is not who I am. If you knew everything, you would understand. Have faith in me, Alexander…” she was saying, her voice far colder than the silken tone to which I was accustomed.
I ducked back. I didn’t think she saw me. But she sensed me the way I sensed others, the way something inside warned me of imminent danger. We were alike, she and I. Both of us highborn—DN10-191 highborn.
“You’d better get to class,” I heard her say to Alexander, but I had the feeling she was speaking to me as well.
I hurried to the stairs, taking pains to keep my steps quiet. I got to my seat a minute before Alexander arrived.
“Good run?” I asked when he sat down.
His mouth opened slightly, before running a hand through the damp lion’s mane on top of his head. His face relaxed. “I had a lot to think about. Speed helps.”
“I know what you mean. Growing up, it was the only thing that could get the world to stop.” I thought about the contradiction in my words. “I guess that sounds strange.”
“No, it doesn’t. I get it, Daniela.” His mouth twitched, but nothing more came out.
“Ready for the test?”
“We don’t need to worry, as long as we know the materials. The analysis won’t be a problem,” said the arrogant Alexander. He must’ve noticed my lips turn down. “It’s okay to believe in yourself, Daniela.”
“I prefer to come up from behind at the finish.”
Mr. Lynder waltzed into the room. Conversation stopped. He held the battered notebook. My eyes fixed on it. I wondered where Drake was right now, what he was thinking—if he had been involved in the drone attack. I stole a glance at Alexander as Mr. Lynder lectured on some point about dramatic prose. The worst part of all this was I had no idea who my friends were.
After class Alexander caught up to me in the hall.
“Daniela, do you have a minute?” he asked, coming up from behind me. “I wanted to talk to you about Saturday.”
I froze. He’s changed his mind. I couldn’t decide if the prospect made me feel elated or disappointed. We needed that DNA. But I dreaded doing what I needed to do to get it.
“I’d like to come and pick you up for the party, with your permission, of course.”
I missed a breath. “You want to come to Bronx City?”
Alexander shrugged. “I want to come to wherever you are. If you’re in Bronx City, I’ll go there.”
For a fleeting moment, I imagined Alexander explaining to Aba who he was, or shadow boxing with Kortilla’s brothers. I’d never hear the end of it. He’d probably arrive with security.
“I’ll be at Alissa’s, actually. The logistics are a lot easier. I’ll ping you the details. Is that okay?”
I watched him for any sign of relief, but he didn’t show me any. “Of course.”
I brushed Alexander’s arm with a gentle hand as I left to go to my next class. He didn’t feel like one of the bad guys. But he had been genetically engineered to be attractive, to be someone others would trust and follow. He might even be able to trill. I couldn’t be sure what was real where he was concerned. In any case, I was going to drug him this weekend, then I was going to break into his father’s company and steal their precious secrets. That was bigger than anything else. Whether Alexander was playing a game with me or not, it was going to end the same way between us: badly.
The remainder of the week was perhaps the strangest I’d had at Tuck, perhaps the strangest of my life. I spent part of each evening reviewing the schematics of the Foster-Rose-Harts’ massive city residence with Nythan, then the rest of the night cramming for Lynder’s exam by myself, because Alissa had the answers somewhere in her subconscious and I didn’t want any hint of them. Administration made me fork over a painful portion of my academic stipend for a replacement digiBook, but I d
evoted hours to selecting an evening dress from Alissa’s extensive collection that had cost her parents a hundred times as much. All so I had something presentable to wear to a party that I was going to so I could steal a toothbrush. Ms. Gonzales did the dress alterations, even though Kortilla told me I shouldn’t be going. I ran alongside Alexander at practice every day, enjoying it far too much given what I had to do. I thought about Mateo, but made no effort to find him. I didn’t have anything to offer him yet.
When the day of Lynder’s infamous test arrived, I was ready. Alexander’s words had been conceited but prophetic. I knew the materials, so the analysis wasn’t a problem. I actually enjoyed writing the essay. Lynder’s questions challenged me to think, to make arguments and support them. In the end, he asked us about outsiders, a theme that bound together many of the disparate characters of Shelley, Huxley, and Vonnegut. I finished flicking out my essay before anyone else in the class. I wrote that outsiders were often lonely, but they needed to be to change the world around them. And they understood loyalty far better than those blessed by the embrace of society.
I came into Manhattan just after lunch on Saturday so Dr. Willis could install my new tooth in her lab. She made me eat two protein bars before she did it. I wouldn’t be eating again until this was over. The procedure was quick, but not quite as painless as the doctor promised. The tooth felt strange in my mouth—too long and too large, compared to my other teeth.
“Be careful what you put in your mouth,” she told me. “Remember to give a strong exhale after you bite down.”
I got to Alissa’s place a little after three in the afternoon. Lara and Nythan were already there. By the look of the empty pizza boxes, they’d been there for a while. They had paper architectural blueprints of the house that I hadn’t seen before, as well as some maps and drawings, spread out across Alissa’s bedroom. Her parents were both at work. Apparently, that was normal for families in Manhattan on a Saturday.
“What are those?” I pointed at the strange depictions sprawled over Alissa’s bed.