by Carol Riggs
“Vonn,” I say. “Have you had any memory flashes, or thoughts that could be Matt’s and not yours?”
He throws me a startled look. “Last week I saw an old woman by the elevator pod in my megacomplex and knew I’d talked to her before. Except I haven’t talked to her. I also had a fleeting image of a green and yellow parakeet.”
“I’ve had flashes at least three times.” I tell him what Leo said about the stray memories.
Vonn frowns. “Wild. Here I thought I was alone in this body.”
“Sometimes I feel like my soul’s merging with Jodine’s.”
“Nah. It’d only be a few brain waves mingling, not your soul.” Vonn helps me to my feet, and brushes grass and leaves from my back. “Even if there is some blending going on, it doesn’t make any difference, since they reinsert our original file back into our own bodies. You’ll be the same you after this is over. It’s all part of the job.”
I start walking with him. “That’s what Leo said.”
Yeah. In fact, Leo’s said a lot of things. He downplayed the Seattle sabotage incident to Vonn. He doesn’t care that ERT isn’t accurate during the brainmap-generating process. I know he wants the Reducer program to do well, but I’m starting to wonder whether he bends a few rules to keep it working. Or at least looks the other way when it’s used for questionable things. He’s much too glib and hedgy about the residuals.
I glance at Vonn puffing beside me. “Humor me for a bit. You know that Reducer woman who tried to sabotage the Seattle ERT equipment?”
“What about her?” He reaches over, snags my fingers with his, and smiles.
I struggle to concentrate. Wow, he’s holding my hand. His touch is warm, surprisingly electric, and very distracting. “She had a hidden agenda, and used a Loaner body to get into the Transfer room. What if the Institute assigns offsite Reducers to do undercover work? They could be losing weight at the same time they’re doing stealthy activities.”
Vonn tosses me a look that implies I’m unhinged, which isn’t surprising, since that’s how I’m starting to feel. “You mean the Institute would hire them to do secret spy missions?”
It does sound silly when he puts it like that. “Sort of. In a Loaner body they could watch what’s going on in a company. Copy files, steal ideas, ruin programs they don’t like. Or spy on a boss or a coworker.”
To his credit, Vonn doesn’t laugh. “I doubt it. All the Institute wants to do is market their brilliant ERT program and make a profit. It’s a business. One that’s doing well, especially now that the government is fining people and digging up clients for them. It’s a mutual partnership.”
“You have to at least admit undercover things like that are possible.”
“I guess, but I don’t think it’s happening. At least as far as Leo and the Institute getting people to do their evil bidding. That’s wacko conspiracy theory material.”
He sounds so sure. I wish I could dismiss these concerns as easily as he can—as easily as I did at the beginning of my assignment. My nagging seeds of doubt are growing into a suspicious little vine. I shouldn’t have talked to those WHA protesters or watched Walter Herry’s dumb vid. What shady things have I accidentally become a part of, by agreeing to do this job?
“Besides,” Vonn says, “not many Reducers are allowed to live offsite. Ninety-seven percent stay in the dorms, and it’d be almost impossible to do anything undercover there.”
“True. I’m probably just being paranoid.” I guess I need to let it go, but the possibility that it’s true is unsettling. As the days of my job go by, the Institute seems to be warping more and more into something unrecognizable. With an effort, I shove those dark thoughts to the back of my mind. “I think what I really should be worrying about is how to keep myself from having seconds and thirds of dinner tonight. I swear, food tastes a hundred times better when I’m Jodine. Even fruits and veggies have more flavor now.”
“Maybe Jodine has more taste buds than you do.”
I laugh. “Right.”
“It’s true. Some people have more, and they taste things better. Jodine must be cursed with a ton of them.”
“Cursed is definitely the word.” I roll my eyes as we start walking. “It’s not fair.”
Vonn launches into song. His voice comes out sturdy and baritone, his words to a popular tune as bright as the sun. “Life’s not fair, got no hair. Roll me out the door, Ma.”
He’s exactly the remedy I need, what I should be concentrating on so I can get through this assignment. I join in on the chorus, and we laugh and keep holding hands as we hike through the park.
Our voices blend perfectly.
Chapter 14
I shift in one of the Clinic’s green waiting room chairs and try to cross my legs. My thighs refuse to oblige. I glare at them and leave them uncrossed. Amazing, the things I used to take for granted.
A guy with a buzz cut snickers next to me.
“Not funny,” I say, wishing I were already done with my afternoon weigh-in and on my way to the park to walk with Vonn. “I bet you think it’s amusing because you’re almost done. What do you have left, six weeks? Less?”
“Four.” He sounds proud….and relieved. “When I’m done, I’m gonna buy a car and move out of the city. There’s this sensational dark blue convertible at—”
A blaring siren interrupts his words and reverberates around the room. I clap my hands over my ears. The alarm blares from the walls through my palms, the sound slicing into me.
“Emergency,” Buzz Cut yells over the noise. “Could be a fire.”
We leap up. I hustle with him and two female Reducers toward the nearest exit. The siren volume lowers a notch as a mechanical voice joins in.
“Do not panic,” the voice says. “Please proceed to the nearest exit. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”
I hurry behind Buzz Cut. He orders the exit door open and dashes through the opening. I follow, bursting out on the east side of the Clinic. The two female Reducers join us. I scan the grounds, and a shock jolts through me.
Protesters are swarming through the entrance gates, shouting, “Down with the Institute! Stop body swapping!” They hit people with their signs and attack the four Enforcers there. Some protesters lie crumpled on the ground, likely hit by stun guns. Guards at the administration building brace themselves to intercept a group of charging rioters. Battle cries rend the air. Reducer victims shriek. More protesters pour across the lawn, closing in on the Clinic.
“It’s an attack, not a fire,” I shout. “Get back inside.”
Buzz Cut and I dart back toward the exit with the female Reducers. One of the women squeezes through before it closes. The other woman smacks up against the door’s surface, pounding her fists on it. “Somebody, please,” she cries. “Activate the door. Open, open!”
Nothing happens. The exits aren’t meant to be accessed from the outside.
Buzz Cut swears. “We’re stuck out here. Run!”
I whip around to see two protesters hurtling toward us, and I scramble away from the building. Buzz Cut and the woman race with me. I’m breathing hard. My legs burn and strain. I thud across pavement and fake grass. Crazed shouting erupts behind us. This is a nightmare, one that feels much too real.
The shouts grow louder, closer. Panic rips through my body as I try to run faster.
Will the protesters beat me up, or can I fight back? Is any kind of violence forbidden under my contract, even self-defense?
I lag behind Buzz Cut. He grabs my arm and pulls me forward as the female Reducer stumbles and falls. Behind me, she screams.
“Stop being a Reducer!” a man shouts.
“I will, I will,” the woman says, sobbing. “Just don’t hit me again.”
My steps falter.
“We have to help her,” I cry out to Buzz Cut. He shakes his head, his eyes frantic. In another moment we reach the electric fence enclosing the Institute grounds. I hear it hum, a low warning drone. Trapped. The
only thing we can do is keep running along the fence line.
I look back to find a burly protester on our heels. He barrels up and swings his sign at Buzz Cut, who ducks and rolls across the turf. The protester stamps after him. This is my chance to escape, but my feet won’t obey. I can’t leave a fellow Reducer here to get mangled.
“Stop!” I throw myself between them, poised to kick. “We haven’t done anything to you—”
The protester cracks his sign against the side of my head. I stumble to the ground, pain shooting through my skull. My vision blurs. I try to roll away, but the protester grabs a thick wad of my hair. He raises his fist to punch me; I squeeze my eyes closed and scream. A searing charge ripples the air, making the hairs on my arms and neck stand up. A heavy thud sounds. My eyes snap open to find the burly protester beside me, convulsing on his back, while an Enforcer with a stun gun stands thirty feet away. Gulping air like I’ve just come up from water, I untangle my hair from the protester’s slack fingers.
“Are you two okay?” the Enforcer asks as he strides closer.
“I— He hit my head with his sign.” I wince, my head throbbing. The artificial turf goes in and out of focus.
Buzz Cut helps me to my feet. “I’m okay,” he says. “Thanks to this girl. She threw herself in front of that guy when he barged toward me.”
The Enforcer slaps restraint-cuffs on the unconscious protester, scans our IDs, and dictates a report into his phone. I glance toward the grounds entrance to see an entire fleet of squad cars has arrived. The bright blue of official uniforms is infiltrating the grounds. Enforcers with stun guns are taking down protesters everywhere.
It’s over. I hide my face with my hands. Buzz Cut wraps his arm across my back, and I welcome the comfort.
An ice compress soothes my aching head as I sit in the nurse’s station. Some Reducers have been whisked away to the hospital, while others have returned to their regular lives at the Clinic. The nurse on duty is gone, scurrying off to replenish her supply of bandages and compresses.
I breathe in the calmer air, soaking in the quietness, the lull after the storm. This is extreme—the third attack against me in a month. Once with Noni, twice with protesters. This job is jinxed.
My soul feels as if a thousand evil boots have stomped across it.
The hate in that burly protester’s eyes keeps burning through me. So much savage anger directed at the Institute and its workers. Directed at me. Why such venom? What did I do to deserve it? I have no idea why the WHA can’t protest their rights infringements in a more peaceful way. Even if they have one or two valid objections—which I’m beginning to think they might—they’re going about it all wrong.
A whisking noise sounds as the autodoor opens. Slow footsteps enter. It’s Leo in a dark suit. He rolls a chair over and sits facing me. Something about the lines around his mouth and eyes makes him look vulnerable, more muted than usual.
“Checking out my injuries this time around?” I can’t help saying, to lighten the mood.
His expression doesn’t change. “The nurse says you should be fine. I’ve notified the Kowalczyks, and they’re standing by in case you’re able to finish your assignment.”
I frown and wish I hadn’t, because it makes my head hurt. “What do you mean, ‘in case I’m able to finish my assignment’? You just said I’m fine.”
“I’m pretty sure your parents will revoke permission for your job when we tell them you’ve been injured again. Put yourself in their position. If you had a daughter who got attacked twice in one month, you’d probably pull her out of the Institute as fast as you could.”
“You’re right,” I whisper. I won’t even have a choice. Mom and Dad were upset enough the first time and worried about the bottle bombs on top of that. There’s no way they’d let this happen to me and do nothing about it. A huge lump materializes in my throat, making it hard to breathe. My bill-paying and tech school dreams start dissolving at quantum speed. We’ll end up in the prison camp of The Commons for sure now. And I’ll lose my contact with Vonn.
Leo’s gaze meets mine, then slides away. “You haven’t been Reducing for the Kowalczyks very long. I assume you don’t want to give up already.”
“No, I’m not a quitter. But even if a miracle happens and my parents let me keep going, Jodine’s parents will probably pull her out of the program.”
“That’s not the case. Even though the Kowalczyks are incensed, the issue of Jodine’s extra weight must be addressed or their tax fines will continue. They don’t have much choice. Plus, I’ve assured them that security will be boosted by mounting cameras on all surrounding streets to monitor large groups. Backup Enforcers will be called before any groups larger than eight people reach the grounds. That way the Enforcers at the gates won’t be overpowered.”
“So you’re going to replace me with another Reducer?” I try to say the words without a wobble, and fail.
Leo adjusts in his chair as though his suit chafes him. “I’d prefer not. With your experience and dedication, you’re the ideal candidate for this job. I’d like to avoid the hassle of finding a suitable replacement. As well as wanting to avoid poor public relations with your mother and father. Since your parents will undoubtedly withdraw permission when they hear you were part of this incident, I suggest we not tell them about it.”
I stare at him and give a strangled cough. “What?”
“It’s better if they don’t know. I can send them a broad report, as I will to all families, without mentioning that you were onsite at the time. Think about it. Your parents don’t know your weigh-in schedule, and they think you’re living safely offsite. We could even tell them your weigh-ins and health checks from now on will be done at your Loaner house rather than at the Clinic. That way the news will come across as a more distant, less alarming concern.”
A flood of relief rushes through me, along with a tornado of misgiving. Leo Behr, gatekeeper of all that is restricting and protocol-adhering, is suggesting I lie to my parents. Should I go along with it? Not only that, do I really want to keep being a Reducer after I’ve been attacked again?
Curse this job. It’s growing too complex and confusing. My goals of helping others and bettering the health care system are starting to pale next to the risks and disadvantages. It doesn’t seem like such a great idea to be involved with the Institute anymore. And yet, I have to be.
I trade a wary look with Leo. He knows I need those credits. It just doesn’t feel safe to keep going. “Can’t you send out a tech to do my weight checks for real at the Kowalczyks’, so I won’t have to go to the Clinic? I’d feel loads better about continuing the job.”
“Believe me,” Leo says, “we’re going to make the grounds a lot safer after this. I’d rather not assign someone to drive all the way out to north Green Zone merely because you’re feeling skittish.”
Skittish, indeed. He’s certainly not very sympathetic, which means I’m stuck putting up with potential added risk, depending on how well his safety measures work. But he’s taking a risk with me, too. “You must trust me a lot. I could go running off to the WHA and start a viral vid about how you’re trying to get around parental permissions. It’d be really damaging publicity for the Institute.”
He gives a cagey return smile. “I doubt you’d do that—especially if you wanted to get paid. It’d be your word against mine.”
A short laugh of disbelief escapes my mouth. Whoa, deviousness. I can’t believe he’s saying this to me. Threatening my wages goes way beyond glib and hedgy. “You’re kinda scary, you know?”
“Does that mean your answer is yes, and you’ll continue your assignment?”
“Yes.” When he breaks into a wide, boyish grin, I return a weak smile. Even though I hate this method of saving my job, all is not lost. I can keep earning those all-important credits for my family. That’s the most important part.
I just need to survive the next five months. Work hard at my weight loss. Pay off the bills, stay out of the prison
camp of The Commons. Then—and only then—I can relax.
“One more thing, however,” Leo says.
“What’s that?” I hope he doesn’t want me to lie about something else.
“The Kowalczyks don’t know you threw yourself into the path of an enraged protester. While the act was heroic, your duty isn’t to protect others while you’re in a Loaner body. It’s not yours to take risks with. You must protect Jodine’s body at all times.”
Wow. I didn’t know it’d be against the rules to help someone in danger. That’s not the kind of person I want to be. “Am I allowed to use self-defense, or is that considered violence?”
“Good question, one that’s actually in your contract. We certainly don’t want Reducers provoking a situation they could claim was self-defense. If there are no other options and the Loaner’s life is in direct danger, you can consider self-defensive actions. Nevertheless, it’s better to flee, hide, or try other things first.”
I really need to take more time to get familiar with my contract. “Why did the alarm message tell us to go outside, anyway?”
“Standard recording. The technician punched the button before she had all the information. She should’ve sent the building into lockdown instead. By the time she switched tactics, it was too late. A lot of Reducers had already run outside.”
I watch him stand and send his chair rolling back across the room. “I guess I’m ready to be picked up,” I say. “Or I can ride the MT.”
“The Kowalczyks have insisted on escorting you home,” Leo says. “I’ll walk you to where they’re waiting.”
No lowly hostbot escort for me this time. I’m rating high today. I brush a renegade coil of hair from my face and walk beside him down the hall.
“You’re trying to raise credits to attend technical school, along with helping pay off family bills, right?” Leo asks.