Mind Games

by Teri Terry

  ‘How’d you do that?’ a boy asks. ‘That is a non-override world protocol.’

  ‘We should make a move. They’ll be tracking us by now,’ Marina says, interrupting before I can try to work out what to say. There is an info dump to our Implants with directions to our camp, and known Lorder movements, maps.

  ‘Split into pairs and see you there,’ Marina says. She draws me into the woods with her.

  ‘Wait a sec,’ I say. ‘Want me to take your Levo off?’

  ‘Can you?’

  ‘I think so. But we’d have to link grids. So I won’t do the rest of them.’

  ‘Go for it,’ she says. We close our eyes. Find grids; link. It’s like before – I can see out of her eyes, feel the beat of her heart synchronise with mine.

  And I can feel yours.

  This is a secret.

  What is?

  This time it isn’t just the shadow she saw behind the other grid; the silver grid takes control. And within seconds her Levo and chip are gone.

  She’s full of wonder. Don’t worry, Luna. I won’t tell anyone. I can’t, because I haven’t a clue what that was, or what you did, so how could I? She hesitates. PareCo might be monitoring your Implant grid, though I’m not sure they could see what you did. Since you didn’t use that grid.

  It’s OK. I blocked them.

  You did what? Surprise. Envy. Show me how?

  Another time. Let’s get out of here. We unlink, and run through the trees, follow the map unfolding in our minds.

  ‘This is so brilliant,’ Marina says. ‘We can blow the Lorders up now! They won’t know what hit them.’

  ‘Maybe we could go undercover? As Lorders.’

  ‘I like that idea. Anything to get out of these horrible clothes.’ And she starts planning, whispering to me via Implant, and it all sounds good, sounds doable.

  And I want our team to win, but most of all… I want to win myself. There is a crazy surge running through me as we run, like when we were in the skills sharing world – I want to do more, and more. When we were in the combat world I didn’t have the drive to win; I was too scared. Now things are different.

  Or are they?

  We’re just doing what PareCo wants us to do. Every time. We compete, they observe by spying through our Implants; we learn things, they use what we can do. What’s the point?

  Gecko said PareCo uses Hackers. Pits them against each other to engage their competitive streak; that Hackers are encouraged to rebel and hack the system so they can be used by it. I discounted much of what he said as crazy, but isn’t that what Dr Rafferty implied, too?

  If Gecko was right about that…maybe he was right about everything else.

  Though Hex said Gecko kidnapped me after the transport crash. Is he dangerous?

  Maybe. But not to me. Now that I focus on it close, remember Gecko as he was – his smile, the firm feel of his hand, that day we spent together in the waterfall world – no.

  So what am I doing? Why am I here? Apart from the lack of choice thing, I don’t have to do as they want. I don’t have to compete. I’d decided that last night, but as soon as we got here, I changed.

  Is it the ANDs that are making me want to win at all costs, or is it something else? Maybe it is something in me.

  My feet start to slow. I can’t be sure; I have to stop taking the drugs. I can’t be here without them though, can I? Without being sick.

  I wish Gecko were here. I wish I could ask him about all of this again, now that I’m beginning to see he may have been right.

  Marina is pulling away. I Implant-whisper: Sorry, Marina, I’ve got to go for a while. Can you go on without me?

  She stops, and turns; looks back at me standing there. Why, have you got something better to do?

  Not exactly, just something I have to do.

  She pauses. Are you OK?

  Yes.

  And to think I picked you first.

  Sorry.

  She looks at me, curiosity in her eyes, but doesn’t ask. It’s OK. Do what you have to do. Catcha later.

  She disappears through the trees.

  I hide myself deep in undergrowth, away from any paths. I have to try this.

  This time I don’t even go near my Implant grid. I can’t risk them logging this. I close my eyes, and the silver grid is there. If I can hack my Implant, why not my PIP? I’m hooked into it and it into me, right now.

  I ignore the rustling trees, the cool air, the damp ground and rotting leaves underneath me here in the Slated world. I focus on my body back in the PIP. Find my silver grid there, then superimpose it on the PIP nutrient feeds. And hidden amongst all of it is something that shouldn’t be there. A drug feed. And I also see all the variations in constituents and dosages, and the tracking system linking back to my Implant log. They’ve been varying it, monitoring intake against my hacking performance in the VeeDubs.

  Once I’ve found it, switching off both the drug feed and the linked tracking system is simple.

  I sit up back in the Slated world. What will happen now the drugs are switched off? I have the answer almost instantly. When I take the tablets, they last a certain period of time; not so now. Nausea slams into me almost as soon as the drug feed is gone. I try to control it, to breathe in and out slowly. But it’s awful. I nearly reach back to start it again; maybe if I control it, decrease it over time, I can wean myself off it, bit by bit?

  No.

  I don’t want to be PareCo’s puppet. I need to find Gecko, find out what he knows about all of this. I want out of here.

  I want out of here now.

  And almost before the thought is complete, there is a rush of silver: a door in the air next to me.

  I pull the handle, and step through.

  It closes behind me, and I’m in darkness, buffeted by the winds of the void. My eyes adjust; dancing lights are clinging to my skin. I spin around, and laugh. The second I came through that door? The nausea was gone. Gone! Take that, PareCo.

  All I need now is to find Gecko.

  A silver arrow pulses at my feet.

  42

  The arrow stops at a dark presence in front of me in the void – large in scale, much larger than Gecko’s S’hack.

  Let me in. A rush of silver outlines a door.

  I peer through: it’s a VeeDub, a whole world. An exotic city landscape set beside a harbour, with roads and cars and people. It’s massive. How am I going to find Gecko?

  The nausea is back in full force. If I’m going to stay here to find him, I have no real choice; I have to take something to control it. But I won’t use their drugs. Back in the PIP I reach for the ANDs in my pocket, chew and swallow a few of them.

  I concentrate on Gecko, on his smile, hoping somehow the void silver will find a way to lead me to him in here.

  Nothing happens.

  I start to walk down a steep hill past huge houses – mansions, really – towards the harbour. There are restaurants and casinos around the water’s edge, and cafés and amusements on a pier. Everything – and everybody – is opulent. It all feels a bit overdone. The footpath is crowded, but space opens around me; odd looks are cast my way. I look down: great. I’m still in the totally lame Slated world school uniform. Just as I think I should try to do something about it, a black limo goes past, then stops. A window winds down, and the chauffeur peers out.

  ‘Are you Luna?’

  I pause. ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘Get in,’ he says, and an electric back door slides open.

  Before I can decide if this is a good idea or a bad idea, two very large, burly, bodyguard-looking types appear, one either side of me.

  ‘Get in,’ one says.

  ‘Please,’ the other says, and smiles, but instead of that making him look less f
rightening, it has more the opposite effect.

  I shrug. It’s not like I know where I’m going. And I can always fall out of a silver door if I need to.

  I get into the limo. Burly no. 1 gets in with me; Burly no. 2 sits next to the driver.

  ‘So. Where are we going?’

  No answer. We appear to be heading up, away from the harbour, the opposite side to where I came down.

  I lean back on the plush seats. This is way cooler than Melrose’s dad’s limo. His was government functional. This one is more rock star.

  We pull in and go down a ramp under a shiny black skyscraper. The car is parked, the door slides open. Burly no. 1 and Burly no. 2 flank me from the car and into a lift. The lift is glass and one wall faces out on the city. There is something weird about the buildings and gardens spreading out below, and then I see what it is: they all look angled for effect – as if arranged to look good from this one place.

  The lift doors open. ‘Get out,’ Burly no. 1 says.

  ‘Please,’ Burly no. 2 says again. I don’t wait to see that smile; I bolt. They don’t follow, and the lift doors shut.

  I’m in a massive room, glass windows all around, and my eyes are dazzled. I blink, and across the room a dark figure facing the other way is outlined in the light.

  He turns. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘Gecko!’ I start to run across the room to him, slowing and then stopping when his words sink in. He’s not moving.

  ‘Well. Lovely to see you, too,’ I say.

  ‘What took you so long?’

  I stare back at him, baffled, not answering. Shake my head. ‘I didn’t exactly know where to find you.’

  ‘Well, here I am.’

  ‘How’d you know to send that car for me?’

  He shrugs. ‘It’s my world; I made everything in it. I just know who is here, where they are.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘You could’ve saved me the effort by coming straight here. But sorry, I’m being a bad host. Would you like a drink or anything?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘Thanks for stopping by.’ He turns away again, looks out the window.

  I’m trying to remember why I was so anxious to find Gecko, what I wanted to ask him, but all I do is stare out of the window along with him. This world is pretty amazing. Did he make it all? ‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ I venture.

  ‘Do you think so? I’m getting bored with it. Come over here. Watch.’

  I walk closer, stand next to him. He’s staring at the harbour: pretty yachts bobbing in the water, pier lined with crowded cafes.

  Then people start to run.

  But not fast enough. There is a wall of water rising up almost vertically from the sea. It throws yachts, and people; slams them into buildings.

  ‘Are you doing that? Stop it!’

  ‘Why? I built it; I can knock it down again.’

  ‘What is wrong with you? What about all those people?’

  ‘Those people are having the time of their lives in an exclusive VeeDub world. They’ve paid PareCo a small fortune just to come here, and be surprised out of their stupid, bored little minds. They’ll die a horrible death and be whisked out of here by escape code, then have it to dine out on for weeks. Why disappoint them?’

  ‘What’s happened to you?’

  He turns to me, and there is a trace of the Gecko that I knew in his eyes. A confused, pained look crosses his face. ‘I don’t know, Luna,’ he says, voice low. ‘There’s nothing you can do. Just get the hell out of here. Before it’s too late.’

  Below us the sea is still swelling, still rising. It’s a cataclysmic scene, yet strangely silent. But it is heading straight for us. It slams into the building, the windows shatter, and the silence is broken. Glass flies everywhere, water starts rushing in.

  Get me out of here!

  A rush of silver forms a door behind me. I turn, and open the door. Look back. Gecko hasn’t moved from where he was standing, but a protective bubble surrounds him: the torrent of water, glass and debris just washes past. Nothing he’s done can harm him.

  He raises a hand in farewell, anguish in his eyes, just as a surge of water pushes me through the silver door.

  I cough and sputter, choking on seawater. I should have turned into a mermaid; that would’ve surprised him, wouldn’t it?

  What is wrong with him? Why did I even want to find him?

  I’m soaked through. I go to wring my hair out and recoil when something horrible touches my hand. I reach back again, and a slimy strand of green seaweed comes away. Really? Thanks, Gecko. Thanks a lot.

  Then I remember, and reach for the silver grid inside. Change this ridiculous, soaking wet school uniform for some decent clothes – dry ones – and de-seaweed my hair.

  But I don’t feel better.

  It was his eyes; the naked look in them when I was pushed through the door. The pain. He’s not happy. Though did he really need to take it out on me and all the stupid, bored idiots?

  What now?

  I sigh. I don’t know; I have no more ideas, nada, zilch. All I really want is to get out of here. I want to go home. Off Inac, away from everything and everybody associated with this place.

  OK, it hasn’t all been horrible. I’ve made some friends here, especially Marina. And so much of what we’ve done has been beyond awesome, other than nearly bleeding to death in the combat world. And almost dying from exhaustion.

  But then Hex and his group disappeared.

  And what has happened to Gecko? I don’t understand what is going on here, but there is a deep ache inside, one that says something bad is coming.

  I wish – so much – that I could just go home, and leave it all behind.

  Silver swirls about me, almost seems to urge me to my feet.

  I stand, and a silver arrow pulses in front of me.

  Goosebumps trail up my arms. All I wished for…was home. Can it somehow take me there from here, in the void?

  The arrow pulses brighter.

  No matter how crazy, I start walking. The arrow stays bright, leading the way, and I walk faster.

  Then I reach a dark space in the void – black, outlined by silver pulses. Smaller than Gecko’s VeeDub; bigger – much bigger – than his S’hack.

  What is this place?

  I wish to go in; a sheet of silver forms, turns into a door. I push the door open, and peer through. Shock slams into me. I pull back and let the door shut again.

  What the hell? Tears are pushing into the backs of my eyes. Is this some sort of PareCo joke, or what? If it is, it’s a sick one.

  But I can’t stop myself. Hand shaking, I reach for the door again. Pull it open, and step through.

  It’s home. Our garden, our house. But not exactly like it; more like it’d be if you could wish it bigger and better. The garden is awesome – huge; brilliant green grass like velvet; flowers everywhere, but mixed seasons, as if spring blossom, summer roses and autumn camellias were tricked to come out at once.

  Hesitant at first, I walk around, flinging my arms out and breathing in deep. It isn’t really home, but it feels like it, even smells like it, somehow. But who would make this place? Why? Nobody but me would ever want to come here. I turn back to the house, and that is when I see it: on the door. There is an envelope taped to the door.

  I walk towards it, look closer, and my skin crawls.

  Luna is written on the front of it, but that isn’t what is bringing out the spine spiders. It’s written in my handwriting.

  Hand shaking, I reach for the envelope. Rip it open. Inside is one sheet of paper: a letter. Again, it is in my handwriting.

  Dear Luna,

  Seems kind of weird to be writing a letter to myself! But here goes.

  You’re standing right now
in your very own S’hack, which you made; seemed the best place to stash this letter as only you can find your S’hack.

  You kind of did the unexpected, and joined up with Tempo, Gecko and some other anti-PareCo rebels called the Worms – charming name, or what?

  I’m short on time as about to dash off and have my recent memories wiped so you can be the best undercover spy of all: because you don’t know that is what you are. So instead of me telling you all about everything, what you need to do is recover your memories.

  Astra’s necklace is made of memory beads. Sounds weird, I know – but focus on the beads, cast silver into them, and your memories will come back.

  Trust me on this one.

  Luna xx

  I stare at the letter, one hand drawn involuntarily to the necklace I’ve worn every day since I found it in my bag at the hospital. I pull it out from under my clothes, undo the clasp. Study it closely in my hands.

  A string of interlocking silver beads; a pretty thing I’ve known since childhood. My mother always used to wear it. But have I ever really looked at it before?

  There are marks on the beads – carvings. They look a lot like S’hacker marks, but they’re not all the same. Some of the beads – six of them – shine with an intensity greater than the others. And they have marks exactly like the ones around my eye.

  Dad said he thought Astra’s necklace looked longer. Was that because my memory beads added to its length? And those beads I kept thinking I could see, floating in the void: maybe it’s some trace of this that made me see them.

  Is this for real?

  Are my missing memories here, in my hands, right now?

  I lost six days of my life. According to this note, written in my own handwriting, I chose to have this done to me. I did it on purpose, so I could be a spy. I’m some sort of anti-PareCo rebel, like Gecko and others I can’t even remember?

  One thing I do know: if I do this, if I get these memories back, everything will change.

  I’m scared. Who knows what is in my missing memories? What could have made me agree to all this craziness? It must have been bad. Really bad.

  But they were six days that were mine; I want them back. Six is for enlightenment, seeking solutions. How can I not?