Unchanged

by Jessica Brody

  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.

  I can see Dr. A’s tongue stabbing the inside of his cheek. “Hmmm,” is the only thing he says. He wipes his mouth with his napkin and sets it down on the table. “Now, I’d like to discuss something very important.”

  My breath ratchets up a notch. Does he know about the drive? How could he?

  I look to Crest for any indication of what this is about. She shakes her head subtly.

  “Yes?” I say, but my throat is parched. I take a large gulp of water from the glass in front of me. It burns going down.

  “Your first interview is tomorrow morning,” Dr. A begins calmly.

  Don’t remind me.

  “It’s important that the two of you”—he nods to Kaelen and me in turn—“appear as connected as possible when you’re presented to the public. Viewers can see right through romantic façades. They see them every day on the reality shows.”

  Why would Dr. A ever compare us to a couple on a silly reality show? We are nothing like them.

  “So why, may I ask,” he continues, “are you refusing to complete the act of ultimate intimacy?”

  My cheeks instantly warm. I peer at Dane, then at Director Raze. Both of them are staring awkwardly at their plates. I cast a sidelong look at Kaelen but he gives me an unassuming smile. Does he not find this question inappropriate?

  Particularly after the conversation we just had?

  “I—I—” I stammer, because Dr. A is staring at me, expecting an answer. “I don’t know.”

  “This act, as I’ve already explained to you, is what will connect the two of you on a deeper level and bring you closer together.”

  “I feel close to Kaelen already,” I murmur, the words feeling misshapen and swollen on my tongue.

  “Not as close as you could be,” Dr. A argues. “Kaelen tells me that you continually refuse him into your bed. I’d like to know why this is. It can’t be for lack of know-how. I’ve supplied you with plenty of informative uploads on the subject.”

  “Dr. Alixter,” Crest interjects, “I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation to have over evening meal.”

  “This is none of your concern, Crest,” Dr. A snaps at her. Crest nods timidly and scoops a pile of food onto her fork. But I notice she never puts it into her mouth.

  I clear my throat, buying a little time while I try to come up with an answer that won’t set him off again.

  Is there such a thing?

  My brain squeezes as a memory comes flooding back to me. I fight to keep it at bay. I can tell by the way it twists my stomach that it’s not the good kind. It’s the other kind. The one that comes with chest pain and nausea and an all-consuming sensation of wretched failure.

  “I’ve just been waiting a long time for this,” Lyzender says.

  I squint at him. “For what?”

  “For you to feel…” He looks uncomfortable. Even his face flushes. “W-w-well,” he stutters. “For you to feel ready, I guess.”

  “I’m not ready,” I blurt, chasing the memory away before it causes me to lose what little I’ve consumed of my meal.

  “Not ready?” Dr. A repeats with something that sounds like disgust. “How could you not be ready? I’ve built you two to be compatible in every single way. There’s no one out there better suited for you than Kaelen.”

  “I know that—” I try to say but I’m cut off.

  “Perhaps there’s something you’re still holding on to. Or someone?”

  The silence in the room slowly starts to suffocate me. I want to run to the window, shove it open, stick my head out, and drink in the warm air.

  I will my paralyzed mouth to move. “No,” I barely squeak out. “There’s no one else.”

  “Then I don’t see a problem.”

  “Perhaps,” Dane says, casting a glance at Crest, “this really is a conversation better suited to a more private setting.”

  “There’s nothing private about their lives,” Dr. A argues, his patience dwindling. “They’re about to be the most public couple in the world. I didn’t create them to live a private life behind closed doors. I created them to be the faces of Diotech. Privacy is not in the equation.”

  Dane sets a tender hand on Dr. A’s arm. He seems to be the only one who can touch him like that. “Yes, I realize. I just meant—”

  Dr. A jerks his arm away and rises from the table. “This isn’t a discussion. Nor a democracy. I created you two to be hopelessly in love. Now start acting like it.”

  He stalks toward the door. “Raze,” he calls. “How is the network setup coming along?”

  Raze straightens before answering the question. “My tech is working on it. The screens in the suites are still connected to the public SkyServer. I’m told it will take another hour or so before our secure internal network is up and running.” He gazes around the room. “So be prudent in what you transmit over your Lenses and Slates.”

  Dr. A doesn’t look happy about the news of the delay, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything. He just leaves.

  My mind is instantly abuzz.

  “The screens in the suites are still connected to the public SkyServer…”

  Meaning whatever I access on them can’t be tracked by Diotech. At least not for another hour.

  My pulse races as the realization settles in.

  Now might be my only chance to find out what’s on that drive.

  18

  RUINS

  No one doubts my claim that the hyperloop fatigued me and I’m allowed to retire to my suite without much fuss. Crest reminds me that we’ll be leaving for the streamwork at six a.m. sharp.

  “Do you want me to walk you to your suite?” Kaelen asks.

  I come around to the back of his chair and kiss the top of his head. The coarse hair of his lingering genetic disguise feels foreign against my lips. “No. I can’t bear to look at you another second with that face.”

  Everyone laughs at my joke. I feel disgusted by it.

  “I’ll be back to my pretty self tomorrow morning,” Kaelen replies, playing along.

  “Good. I’ll admire you then.”

  Kaelen grins. “I look forward to it.”

  Once the door of my suite seals behind me, I waste no time retrieving the cube from the drawer, swiping it on, and activating the wall screen. The drive immediately shows up on the list of active devices.

  I know my time is limited. The network will be up and running soon and then my window of opportunity will be closed. But I still stare at the drive on the screen for a good two minutes, trying to build up the courage to connect to it.

  With the network inactive, whatever I see on that drive can’t be traced by Diotech. But there’s still the matter of my memories. Our weekly scans are obviously on hold until the end of the tour, but then what?

  What will happen when we return to the compound in a month and they find this?

  Because they will. They find everything.

  I remind myself that it’s only a problem if they think I was trying to hide something. If I access the drive, see what’s inside, and report it to Dr. A before they have a chance to scan my memories, then I should be safe.

  With a deep breath, I initiate the link.

  The syncing screen seems to take forever. It’s as though time is slowing down the longer the devices try to reac
h one another. I get a flutter of panic in my chest.

  What if the drive has been damaged?

  How long was it buried under the hard, unforgiving earth?

  Finally, the sync completes and I’m shown an inventory of files stored on the drive.

  There is only one.

  Everything else has been erased.

  And if there was any lingering doubt that the drive was left for me, it’s erased as well, as soon as I read the file name.

  S + Z = 1609

  I cringe as the memory stabs at my heart and my conscience like a vengeful warrior. Like an age-old curse.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, flipping the necklace over in my palm. I gasp when I see the engraving on the back. I run my fingertip over the text etched into the black heart pendant.

  “S + Z = 1609,” I whisper, afraid that the clouds might overhear.

  “An equation only you can solve,” he says.

  S + Z = 1609 was our secret code. Along with the symbol of the eternal knot. Back when I used to call him Zen, instead of his full name, Lyzender.

  The equation was a plan for our escape. We were going to live in the year 1609. We were going to run away to a time before Diotech. Before science. Before the Objective.

  And we did. We made it. He lured me there with all of his romantic words and soulful promises.

  Yet it wasn’t what it was supposed to be. It was a dangerous time with distrustful people who did not take kindly to my uniqueness.

  Dr. A was right about Lyzender all along. His promises were false. His words were contrived. He tempted me into a hell that didn’t accept me. It wasn’t better in the seventeenth century. It was worse.

  Sometimes I wish Dr. A had simply erased him from my mind. That boy and the promises I made to him are my single most powerful source of shame.

  I understand why Dr. A didn’t, though.

  He wanted me to remember. He wanted me to feel this disgrace that doubles me over. He knew it was the only way to keep me from doing it again.

  And he’s right.

  I remind myself that I can use this ghastly sensation to heal. To become stronger. It’s just like the training sessions Kaelen and I have back home on the compound. You can’t improve unless you face obstacles every day.