by Lydia Kang
“There’s no way we’ll get it done in time.” When I respond with a stubborn frown, he raises his eyebrows. “Well. I never said I didn’t like a challenge, right?”
“Right. Let’s go.”
We meet Spork in the lab. He shows us Julian and Sean’s neural maps.
“I can’t believe you had these,” I say.
“Sean headached Julian with marvelous pain in the parietal lobe butt. Five years ago,” Spork explains.
“Oh. Thank you, Spork.” But before he floats away, I ask, “Hey, one question . . . do you know if the vaccine for Caliga Jakobsen is done?”
“Very yes.”
My face clouds over. “Where is it?”
“It is emigrated to a closed location by Julian.”
I thank Spork, then whisper to Cy, “I bet a million dollars it’s hidden somewhere.”
“The secret infirmary, maybe?”
“Maybe, but it’ll be locked up, even if it’s in there.”
So we throw ourselves into working on the anti-Julian medicine. Cy and I study 3-D scans of their brain biometrics. I don’t know what I’m looking at, but Cy’s in his element. Neuroscience is his specialty. I can sense his mind unfolding, seeing countless things I can’t.
“I used to study Ana’s brain like this. She’s beautiful, even the parts that don’t work quite right.”
“Are you still upset that you couldn’t reverse her damage?” I ask. Cy nods, turning slightly away from me.
“But she’s exquisite, you know,” I tell him. “The way she is. I can’t imagine Ana any other way, and if she were different, I’d miss her.” I put my hand on Cy’s.
Cy squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s hard . . .” He swallows, and tries again. “It’s still . . .”
It still hurts, Zel. So much.
His voice in my head is so pure, so clear. I glance around at a distant Xiulan working in a far room, but she doesn’t seem to have heard him.
“I hear you, Cy,” I whisper. “I hear you.”
Cy lets go of my hand and collects himself. “Come on. We have some brains to analyze,” he says, forcing a little brightness into his voice. He spins the image around with his finger, making the brain look like a flower on fire. “It’s impossible to separate them anatomically.” He points to the thick web of nerves between the hemispheres, now lit up in bright blue. “That’s Julian. And here’s Sean.”
Sean’s neural web is bright orange. When he flicks back and forth between colors, it’s clear the tangled neurons overlap heavily, sharing multiple pathways. “It’s not like you can slice Julian and Sean apart,” I comment.
Cy crinkles his eyebrows. “Wait. Digitally subtract Sean’s neural web from Julian’s again,” he orders the holo. We look closer and see that what’s left is a pattern in the front. “This is it. The prefrontal cortex. These pathways are mostly used by Julian. That’s our best bet.”
“So we target this area with a few gamma rays, label some heat-shock protein specific tags with medicine.”
“Which medicine?” Cy asks. “How long does Sean want Julian to be out of it? An hour? A day?”
“We need to ask Sean. And we need him here when Julian is asleep so we can gamma-blast Julian’s neurons.”
“That’s so violent, Zel,” Cy snickers.
“What can I say? He’s not my favorite man in the world.
“I’ll go find Sean. Or Julian, and get a reading on when he’ll be asleep so we can do this.”
“Okay.” He leans over to me to kiss me softly on the lips. “I wish I could kiss you all day,” he says as I finally step back.
“You can if you try.” I wink at him. Cy’s face goes rosy and I leave, hoping that he’ll take me up on my invitation to keep working on his trait.
• • •
CY DOES TRY. HALTINGLY, AND CAREFULLY. IT must be working, since other people around me don’t seem bothered by whispery touches on their cheeks, lips, and hands.
Luckily, he gives it a rest when I finally find Julian in an office down a hallway on an upper floor. The door is open and the holo image on the walls resembles twentieth-century Prague. The tawny rooftops and blue sky are beautiful, but I can detect the faint electric scent of the holo mechanism humming faintly in the background. Pretty, but fake.
“Hi Julian,” I say, knocking.
“Zelia. Come in.”
Above the desk, he’s got several holo screens showing financials for Avida and business orders. A single small screen shows a girl sitting bored at her desk. I peer at it closer, only to realize it’s Caliga, manning the infirmary office. I’m relieved that there’s no sound or picture coming directly from her bracelet. At least we’re not being monitored that intimately. But still.
Julian touches the screen and it disappears instantly. The lech.
“So. How’s the research with Cyrad going?”
“Oh. Very well,” I lie. Shoot. We didn’t ever try to think up a good lie about what we’ve been doing for the last twelve hours.
“It’s okay. I understand that you need a little catch-up time with your boyfriend.”
It’s positively gracious of him. I’m stunned into a “Thank you” before I can think of anything else to say. “Oh. And thanks to Sean too.”
Julian makes a dismissive sound.
“What? Don’t you like Sean?” I ask, truly curious.
“He’s a part of my life that I tolerate.”
“I’d think it would be nice to have someone always there for you.”
“Always there to criticize.” He scowls. “Believe me, I put him in his place, but he floods me with this . . . this . . .” Julian waves his hand like he’s shooing away a fly. “Unnecessary emotion.”
“You mean, a conscience.”
“It’s irritating as hell. If he ran Avida, we’d have collapsed long ago, even under the auspices of Aureus. You have ten times his spirit, Zelia.”
“I see. Maybe I could talk to him. Get him off your back,” I offer. “Maybe he’s just lonely.”
“He’s a goddamned puppy. You’re welcome to have him as your pet. But he won’t be around at least until tomorrow. I’m too busy.”
“But don’t you need to sleep?” I say, trying to hide my panic. Tomorrow? That’s too late to save Caliga!
“Eh. I’ll let Sean sleep for the two of us. I’ve too many things planned. Which reminds me. I need to prepare for the evening.” Julian shuts all the holos off and walks me out of the office before locking it securely with his bracelet. Even the smallest action, like waving his bracelet, is replete with confidence and intimidation. Everything that Sean doesn’t have.
He leaves me behind without a good-bye, as if I’ve already occupied too much of his time. I wait for the next transport, to warn Caliga. Cy’s voice enters my head as I walk in.
I hope you found Sean. I hope you have some good news.
No. I don’t. I have the unhappy job now of telling Caliga that everything I promised isn’t going to happen.
When I find her in the upstairs infirmary, still sitting in the beyond-bored position I’d seen her in on Julian’s holo, she hears my news with a dead-eyed expression.
“Cal, I’m so sorry. I tried, but unless Julian lets Sean take over, there’s nothing I can do.”
“I understand.” She smiles, and that smile cracks my heart. It’s pure resignation. “I’ll survive. I’ll get through it. It can’t be worse than sludging through a hundred miles of sewer pipes, right?” she jokes.
I smile back, but don’t respond. Because in truth, we both know it will be worse.
• • •
I DON’T LEAVE CALIGA’S SIDE FOR THE rest of the day, after Cy assures me that he can work alone. I hover close and occasionally put my hand on her shoulder. She never shrugs me off. Never throws a bitter word. I tell her stories about
Dyl. About the poetry we’d read. She asks me to recite some of the poems I loved best. They seem to calm her down.
When it’s time to prep for dinner, she gets dressed in a simple gown of black silk and her bots curl drooping spirals of hair around her shoulders. The whole process is awful and wrong, like she’s dressing for her own execution. Afterward, she follows me to my room while I get ready. My personal bots go nuts. I’d been refusing their work for the last day. After my shower, they practically shake with bliss as they spray-paint my face.
“Enthusiastic, aren’t they?” Caliga says, even giggling when my hair bot admires Caliga’s curls.
“Yeah. I’ll bet they’ve never had such a mess to fix before.”
I wiggle into a low-cut dress of shimmering gold and emerald that tapers to white feathers all over the skirt. I’m a garish, nearly extinct bird with weak ankles. One good slip on the floor, and I’ll fulfill my destiny. We leave my room and walk through the meadow, watching the holo butterflies alight on the blue columbine.
“We’re early,” I say, looking at my holo. “I want to go visit those kids again. It’s been too long.”
“My bracelet won’t let me go,” Caliga says. “I’m only programmed for dinner.” When she sees how torn I am, she smiles. “It’s okay. I’d like a few minutes alone anyway. You go. I’ll see you at dinner.”
I head for the transport. Soon it’s zooming down and diagonally to the hidden infirmary. When the doors open, I’m surprised to see Cy standing in a black suit, behind Renata. She’s crouched over Victoria’s bed, just like she’d been the first time we were here.
“Cy. Renata, I just came by . . .” My words disintegrate when Cy turns around, his eyes bloodshot. I walk forward, only to see Renata collapsed in misery. Victoria’s eyes are half-open, dull and unfocused.
She’s dead.
I cover my mouth. My eyes sting and brim with tears. Her four tiny arms are splayed out in an X, just like Hex does when he’s deeply asleep. He never got to meet his little sister.
I hate Julian. I despise my father. And I hate myself, for not having done more.
“Is Victoria okay?”
Andy’s sitting up in bed, his suction cups still covering his hypersensitive ears. He looks like he just woke up. He doesn’t know. Renata won’t move, still prostrate over Victoria’s still body. I walk to his bedside.
“Oh Andy. It’s . . . I’m sorry, but . . .”
Andy’s face fills with horror and he rips off the protective cups over his ears. “Shut up, shut up!” he screams, throwing the cups on the floor. He splays his hands out. “Everybody, stop breathing! Be quiet!” His eyes grow wide and wild as he grips the edge of the bed rails and cocks his head to listen to the aching silence of the room. It only takes a few seconds. He lifts his shaking hand. “Victoria’s heart isn’t beating. It’s not beating!” he wails.
He claws at me, so violently that I bump into the table next to his bed, knocking over his dinner and a glass of lemonade. I grab Andy’s body and just smother him in my arms. He sobs into my chest. After a minute, he pushes me away.
“No. I want my mom,” he whines.
Andy’s voice seems to rouse Renata, who lifts her head up from where she’s been soaking Victoria’s sheets with her tears. She scuttles over to Andy’s bedside and I give her a wide berth.
“It’s okay, Andy. It’s okay,” she croons. “I love you, my darling. Mama’s here.”
My eyes take in the room with a hollow heart. The other girl, Bianca, looks like she’s already in a coma. Cy and I try to comfort Renata, but we feel like outsiders trying to help a hopeless situation. As Cy and I leave to head to dinner, I collapse into his arms in the transport.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Cy says helplessly. “I don’t know what we’re up against. I have no tools.”
But I know I have to do something. Bianca and Andy will die next. We’re still stuck in Avida without a clear way out. And now Caliga’s going to fall prey to Julian tonight too.
I’ve never felt so helpless in my whole life.
CHAPTER 22
CY AND I DRAG OURSELVES TO DINNER. The roof is resplendent with twinkle lights embedded in the domed ceiling, candles glowing on the tables, and place settings of gold-etched china and crystal. The forced gaudiness and decadence make me want to throw up, considering what we’ve just seen. My tight dress isn’t helping any. Cy sees me clutching my ribs and leans close.
“Where’s your necklace?”
I show him my wrist where I twined the chain as a bracelet, since I have no pockets. He clasps it around my neck and I relinquish control to the pendant. Victoria’s death makes me so sad, I don’t have the energy to breathe by myself. When someone touches my elbow, I cringe.
“Hi Zel,” Tennie says. He doesn’t seem upset, so he must not know about Victoria yet. He points across the room to Tabitha. “Check it out. I bet it’s clogged-drain city in her bathroom.” I hardly recognize her, because she’s shaved all her fur off. She’s wearing a skin-tight, flesh-toned strapless dress. The only hair left is a thick, wavy stripe trailing down from her head to the small of her back, like a horse’s mane. Her face, without the fur, is heart shaped and almost elfin. Not what I expected.
Tabitha’s talking to someone in the crescent pool at her feet. We walk over slowly. Ryba’s in the water holding on to Tabitha’s bare foot, like it belongs to her. Her skin glistens under the water like a pearl, and her yellow hair fans out, being tugged this way and that way by her head movements. Her eyes are nearly white, like moonstones.
“Zelia. This is Ryba,” Tabitha says proudly. Ryba holds out a dripping hand and I stoop to shake it. It’s rubbery and slick. She’s healed so well.
“Hi Ryba,” I say. “Wow. You’re . . . beautiful.” I can’t help it. The golden hair and the pearlescent body are straight out of a fairy tale, if not for the lack of fish tail.
“Thank you,” she says, her chin dipping into the water. “You look like a bird of paradise.”
I nod in acceptance. “Not my choice, but whatever.”
Julian’s already sitting at the head of the table, a goblet of red wine in hand. His eyes are fixed on Caliga, who sits alone in the corner, swirling the lemon in her water glass. Xiulan walks to Julian, interrupting his line of vision. She leans over to whisper, her skin swirling in blue and orange, and he slams down his wineglass.
“I didn’t authorize that.”
Xiulan whispers hurriedly and her arms go black.
“I’ll deal with it later.” Julian waves his hand dismissively, but the irritation on his face remains. Xiulan slinks away and sits down, staring straight ahead of her. Micah comes to stand next to me.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
“I don’t know.” He and I sit down across from Xiulan. She looks too frightened to speak, but Micah asks anyway. “Xiulan, what happened?”
“Some of our newer drug samples got sent to Okks, of all places. It’s all over the news.”
“Who sent them?”
“I don’t know. I’m in charge of shipping from the R&D lab, but I didn’t do it.”
We try to console Xiulan, but nothing we say makes her feel better. Micah whispers to me, “The police and Feds will put more pressure on Inky and Avida. They’ll have to publicly show that they’re doing something about it. This is bad.”
“What a weird mistake,” I say, but Micah shakes his head.
“This is no mistake. Places like Avida and Aureus—they don’t make mistakes.”
We all sit and eat our dinner with somber concentration. Renata never shows up, but the other kids seem afraid to ask about her absence. After dessert, the candles and lights wink out. They’re replaced with black lights and music. Strange shapes begin to glow around us from the fluorescing clothes, nail polish, and makeup worn by everyone. I sup
pose it would be a fun club experience, dancing under a black light, except that nobody is in the mood.
“Let’s get out of here,” I mouth to Cy, who’s several seats away. We head past the strange glowing lips, eyes, and bits of luminous clothing to the transport doors.
“Zel, what’s that?” Cy points to a huge splotch on the feathers of my skirt. It’s glowing eerily blue-green, and doesn’t match any pattern on my gown. I reach for it and it’s damp.
“Weird.”
Micah and Élodie have also decided to leave. Inside the transport in the normal light, the wet splotch on my gown is bright yellow. It has a strange, chemical scent that’s familiar, mixed with a sugary citrus note. My stomach drops and my heart starts pounding.
Oh no. This can’t be what I think it is. Please. No.
The doors have opened to Cy and Micah’s floor. Since it’s free time, Élodie is allowed to step out with them, but I don’t exit the transport.
“What’s the matter?” Élodie asks. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
“No.” I try to smile, faking nonchalance. “I’ll be back in a second. I forgot something.”
Cy watches me with suspicion but lets the doors close. I scan my bracelet and head for the locked infirmary. Inside, Renata is gone. Victoria’s body has been removed too, but Bianca continues to sleep under an oxygen mask, and Andy’s playing a game on his holo.
His lemonade is still sitting by his bedside. I run over and smell it. Ugh, it reeks. I dump it down the sink in the corner of the room, before searching wildly by the beds and tables.
“God, where is it? Where is he keeping this stuff?” I say as Andy cowers from my frantic gestures.
I know what this smell is. Yellow color in daylight, fluorescing blue-green under black light. I used to use it in one of my first labs, for histochemical stains. Finally, peering through the glass of the far laboratory wall’s transparent cabinets, I see the stoppered container. The liquid inside is bright yellow. The label is turned toward the back, but I know what it is.
Acridine yellow. A dye that’s incredibly toxic. It causes mutations in animals and bacteria. And someone was hoping it would cause new mutations in Andy, by slipping it into his lemonade. I look frantically for a lock pad to scan my bracelet, but when I find it, the door won’t open. And then I remember.