Contribute (Holo, #2)

by Kristy Acevedo

  “That can’t be right,” I say. “I just tracked it.”

  Benji sighs loudly. Katherine stares him down.

  “Was it this crowded before?” Marcus asks, as clusters of people walk past to gather for the Skylucent.

  “No,” I admit, the fear rising inside at being labeled a failure in public.

  “That could add a different variable,” Marcus says.

  Professor Marciani nods in agreement. “Perhaps there’s a movement and time component.”

  “Explain,” Jackson asks Marcus.

  “Alex could be right, it could happen every ten people. However, when it’s crowded, to avoid continuously singing, there could be an added timing element, say, of only reacting after so many minutes regardless of hitting the ten person threshold.”

  Beruk comes over. “Is there a problem? What are we here for?”

  “It’s your call,” Jackson whispers to Benji.

  “We’ve come this far. You ready?” he asks Katherine and the professor.

  Professor Marciani tips an imaginary hat. Katherine gives a thumbs up.

  Benji announces, “Everyone else, back to dinner.”

  As Umbra forces disperse in the area, I linger. Benji grabs my arm and pulls me away from the tree.

  “But I want to see what happens,” I argue.

  “Let the experts do their work. You can watch from here. Don’t call attention in case it fails. Plus, there’s a chance that they’ll be punished like Nolan for messing with the temperature controls.”

  My heart falls to my stomach. “I thought Katherine is safeguarding the area.”

  “Alex, there are no absolutes with this stuff. We are flying blind.”

  The dinochicken squawks again. I hold my breath and watch Katherine inconspicuously prod the nanoholocoms near the area and tap on her bandwidth. After she nods at Professor Marciani, he gets to work under the tree. Please don’t let the BME get the professor for listening to my crazy idea. The professor pours a small amount of liquid into a metallic device, then adds something else and backs away. Smoke and sparks surround the base of the tree. Flames lick the trunk, and the environmental controls don’t activate.

  Nothing happens.

  Beruk leans closer to Benji. “Campfires? What is this, Girl Scouts?”

  Anger mixes with my embarrassment. Jackson clears his throat. I open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out. Before Benji gets a chance to respond, everything shuts down.

  Everything.

  The environment dematerializes before our eyes, the small flames extinguished as the tree vanishes. Our uniforms revert to basic iridescent design.

  We are no longer standing in the Hub.

  We are no longer standing on a planet.

  We are standing in an open space, surrounded by metal, glittering gadgetry, darkness.

  It was all an illusion.

  PART 2.

  “How beauteous mankind is! O brave

  new world

  That has such people in’t!”

  —William Shakespeare’s The Tempest

  CHAPTER 11

  DAY 9: 558 HOURS TO DECIDE

  EVERYTHING WAS AN illusion.

  Of course. The holograms’ specialty.

  A series of windows line one area, ceiling to floor. It takes me a few seconds to process. Outside the windows, a fleet of sleek ships with pointed fronts and cone-shaped bellies, fully expanded into the pale blaze of engines. Like metallic darts puncturing the darkness. Too many to count.

  Doctor A., Kendra, Nolan, and his grandmother cradling the baby rush over to us.

  “Good God. Why are we in space?” Doctor A. asks.

  “I don’t know,” Katherine says. “But I don’t like it.”

  “Look at them all,” Nolan says, staring out the windows.

  Jackson, Beruk, and Benji stand speechless.

  “There are hundreds of them,” Kendra says.

  “The vertexes on Earth must’ve led to ships, not to a planet,” Marcus says.

  Reality sets in as the Umbra and non-Umbra take in the sight.

  We revealed only one ship. Possibly only one deck of only one ship. There are so many more ships full of people who think they’re on a safe planet. Who think Earth was destroyed.

  Each truth just reveals more lies.

  Dominick and Rita could be on a different deck of this ship, or on one of those other ships. So close and yet so far. I wonder if every deck can see the ships outside the windows. If they are seeing this right now.

  A melodic sequence of beeps echoes through the open space. A huge, floating holoscreen appears where the Earth mourning ceremony usually happens.

  This can’t be good, this can’t be good. What have I done? I back up slowly and bump into Benji. He places his hand on my shoulder. It’s shaking.

  On screen, Keron, the leader of the meritocracy, flocked by other members in an arena, stands with his hands clasped gracefully before him.

  “Greetings from the meritocracy, the ruling body of Solbiluna-8. We are meeting again earlier than expected. We understand there is a problem with the environmental controls. We want to reassure you that we have everything under control. You are on a star vessel and have not yet arrived at Solbiluna-8. We are sorry if this has caused you discomfort in anyway. Rest assured that this was as we intended.

  “We created the false environment to introduce you to some of our technology as you travel to our planet. We only wanted to bring you peace and acclimate you to our culture. We know how hard it is to relocate to a new world. Environmental controls will be reestablished shortly for your comfort. Thank you for your understanding and patience during this trying time. We look forward to your arrival. May your contribution lead to freedom.”

  He bows, and the screen flickers off and disappears.

  “Bullshit,” I say.

  “Of course it’s bullshit,” Kendra says. “They never explained this in the holograms’ questions and answers back home.”

  “Why didn’t the vertexes just bring us to the planet like they said?” Nolan asks.

  Marcus answers. “Perhaps it’s not only about bringing people. Perhaps they needed the ships to make the vertexes and project the holograms on Earth.”

  “Which would also confirm Alex’s experience is possible,” the professor adds. “Earth wasn’t destroyed.”

  “How?” I ask, still transfixed on the silver ships floating in the darkness.

  “In order to trick the NASA sensors and have a holographic comet approach Earth, the vances could’ve used spaceships in close proximity to keep a hologram of that caliber projected through space and through our atmosphere. Ships were probably hidden in our solar system the entire time.”

  “Like cloaked, you mean?” Katherine asks.

  “Yes. It’s the only way they could’ve pull off such a scam. It’s ingenious. I’m not sure how they shielded themselves from the nukes, but it shows what they are capable of.”

  Benji squeezes my shoulder, and for the first time, it almost seems like he’s proud of me.

  “What do we do now?” Katherine asks Jackson. “Do we tell everyone the whole truth?”

  Jackson glances past the crowd of Umbra to the others. They’ve gathered near the huge windows with wide eyes and mutter about the possibilities, more excited than concerned. Like a true adventure has begun instead of a betrayal.

  “Not yet. We still don’t have evidence that the vances have done anything sinister. Just our word. The meritocracy justified a reason for the spaceships. So we wait, as decided by our vote. No one else on those other ships knows any of this. We need to build a larger network first, contact those other ships.”

  Beruk crosses his hairy arms over his chest. “You still aren’t willing to budge. We have evidence that they lied about being on a planet.”

  Benji steps in. “We are outnumbered and outgunned with a high tech culture that’s clearly more advanced than we assumed. We are only one ship. Look out the window. None of them
have a clue.”

  “While you’re doing that,” Beruk says, “I want my team working on taking over this ship if necessary. We need to figure out schematics, locate the engines, fuel, navigation, weapons, escape pods.”

  “Agreed,” Jackson says. “Katherine, do you think there’s a way to tap into the other ships’ nanoholocom networks and send them coded messages?”

  “There’s always a way,” Katherine says, grinning. “The problem is whether or not they will recognize them.”

  “Get to work on that immediately. Top priority. Then help Beruk and his team.”

  She nods, but I can feel her anger from here.

  “Professor, keep focus on using vertex technology and the DQD weapon prototype.”

  The professor salutes and twists his hair.

  As Jackson delivers orders, from the ground to the ceiling of the spaceship, an electric bluish-green energy comes tumbling down and up to meet each other. It grows and spreads like a veil over reality, casting over all that was and showing us what isn’t. Even our clothing returns to our individualized, holofied designs. It’s the most beautiful and disturbing thing I’ve ever witnessed. It takes virtual reality and lays it across the truth. Like growing a garden on top of a graveyard.

  I SPEND THE next day on the spaceship trying to pretend it’s a planet. My brain can’t handle it. We are trapped here against our will, like living in a snowglobe or a fish tank or a doll house. They control our environment, food, water, and housing from wherever they are. Now that I know it isn’t real, the trees seem sinister, the air seems artificial. Hell, I guess it is.

  Aren’t we the weak link in the fleet? The chink in the armor? Why keep us? Are they going to wipe our memories when we arrive at the planet? How easy it would be for them to stop pumping the vanilla mint oxygen and to start pumping in poison gas. Or to just stop pumping anything. Either way. Both as effective.

  In the middle of the night, an insidious thought takes over my thoughts and travels to the anxious part of my soul to wreak havoc: I’m in SPACE. Space. Utter darkness. Trapped by weightlessness. No oxygen. If I breach the fishbowl, oblivion.

  My stomach sours, so I sit on the futuristic toilet of enlightened shit inside the PSF. I try to slow down my breathing by counting. I don’t have any pills left to handle the meltdown inside me.

  If one thing goes wrong with this ship.

  BOOM—

  floating, belly up, dead in space.

  Just. Like. That.

  What if Beruk had blown through the gate that keeps us from traveling, and instead blown a hole in the side of the ship? He could’ve killed us all.

  Even worse, what if my bird theory had lead to a ship explosion? Fire on spaceships can’t be good. Fire+oxygen=BOOM. I could’ve killed everyone.

  As my body breaks into a blinding hot sweat, I strip off my clothes and turn on the PSF. This time, though, it doesn’t work as well since my skin just gets hotter and hotter, the room beginning to spin, welts appearing on my stomach. I try to breathe and count like I’m supposed to.

  I Just.

  Can’t find.

  The.

  Oxygen.

  Don’t get tricked by a thought.

  But when I had a thought about a bird being a programmed hologram, I was right. My anxiety was right.

  It could be right now.

  And I could be dying for real this time.

  IKNOWIMDYINGIMDYINGIMDYINGIMDYING.

  I flee the PSF to find air, running out of my LU half-naked, tossing my uniform shirt over my head, jumping into a maglift, and traveling down to the Hub. It’s late, so not many people are around, but some are. It doesn’t matter. I just need to cool down and escape the heat.

  I douse my face and then my whole head into the cold stream, soaking my hair, begging for relief and escape. It helps a little, yet it’s impossible to escape the thought of my body as a floating space corpse.

  As the water runs over my hair, I wonder if it’s even real. How will I ever know what’s real again? Will it eventually not matter?

  And then, while the top half of my body is still in the water, branches of electricity surge up from the ground and bite at my legs.

  Sidekick materializes next to me. “The BME has been automatically activated. Please remain calm and orderly as we deal with the infraction.”

  My body convulses before hitting the ground. The sign on the fountain reads: For personal hydration only. Storing or cleaning with water is forbidden. The transparency pins me underneath for everyone to witness.

  Inside the BME punishment chamber, colored lasers poke through me in rotating sequences, while vibrating sounds rattle my teeth and bones.

  As night turns into day, people step over my body to get water from the fountain. No eye contact. There it is again: small acts of self preservation. The beginning of the end of human civilization. The blurry shape of Doctor A.’s salt and pepper beard checks on me periodically.

  Another day turns into night and back again. The exhaustion from missing sleep, the hunger from missing meals, and the muscle cramping from being trapped in such a tight space creates a growing numbness that spreads throughout my body. It’s a cocoon of enforced depression, zapping all motivation to care even though I’m fully aware of the destruction happening to my life.

  I close my eyes to the pretty lights and vibrations. I might as well be dead.

  DOCTOR A. CHECKS my pulse.

  “Okay, move her,” he says.

  Benji scoops me up and cradles me in his arms. I don’t have the will to fight him.

  I LOOK AROUND, expecting to see the Hub. I’m in my LU. The change in location makes my insides seize in confusion.

  “Where—how?” I mumble, my mouth dry and sticky.

  “Lie back,” Doctor A. says, holding my forehead. “You’ll feel disoriented for awhile. You were in the BME for almost two days, then the HME last night. The scars on your legs are healing with the help of the PSF. You had it the worst since you were in water at the time.”

  I can’t help but look down. Covering my calves are burn marks, scars in the shape of large tongues. Thanks to the AM and PM behavioral meds the BME administered, I can’t feel anything anymore.

  “Benji just left. He’s been checking in on you all day.”

  I must be delusional. Benji wouldn’t waste that much time on me.

  THREE DAYS LATER, against Doctor A.’s orders, I leave my LU to get my mind off what happened to me and the missing time in my memory. According to my bandwidth countdown, there’s only three hundred ninety-eight hours left to contribute, past the halfway point. After being medicated for days, the numbers don’t register as threatening as they should.

  I run into Kendra and Nolan, who invite me to the Holospaces. Instead, I scribble on scrap paper for the Umbra LU, and Kendra writes down a room number. I travel in a maglift without caring about the height.

  Inside the Umbra, Katherine tinkers with a flat board with small tubes and coils. It looks like the inside of an old model computer.

  “You’re back in action?” Katherine asks. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  I ignore her. I need something to distract myself. “What’re you working on?”

  “Makeshift radio using ration parts. It’s not picking up anything, though. Frequency is all wacked. The ship must have a force field that keeps the nanoholocoms connected, but blocks other information. Trying to work around it. Course, the other ships won’t know to look for a signal. Why would they?”

  She keeps messing with the board anyway. I have a feeling it’s just to keep her hands and her mind busy, feel productive. We have a lot in common.

  “If I can get this thing to work,” Katherine asks, “who would you contact?”

  “My best friend, Rita. She’s my rock. We’ve known each other since we were little. She left Earth before I could say goodbye. And Dominick, my boyfriend.”

  I’ve been keeping them out of my thoughts to avoid emotional meltdown. I take a moment af
ter saying Dominick’s name out loud. “I really miss him. More than I ever realized. I should’ve left with him. Then we’d at least be together.”

  “Then we wouldn’t know about the comet.”

  “True.” A part of me still would rather be with him and enjoy the time in ignorance. But that would mean condemning us all to Solbiluna-8. “My grandmother should also be around. I might have some relatives from Texas . . . not sure if they came or hid in a bunker. What about you?”

  “No.” She tightens a wire. “If this had happened years ago, the whole hologram invasion thing, my life would’ve been so different. My daughter would be here with me.”

  She yanks on the piece, and it falls apart in her hands.

  “She was only six. Six is the perfect age. So open to experience. They’ll do anything to please you.” She stares at the panel. “Leukemia. I tried to raise money for treatments, and when that didn’t cover expenses, I started stealing. From work. From stores. From friends. From strangers. I did what I had to do to pay the bills.”

  “And you got caught.”

  “Not then. After.”

  She puts down a tool, then looks at me. “When she died, I wanted vengeance. Against everything—the medical system, insurance system, the world, God, whatever.”

  “What did you do?”

  “What I do best. Kept stealing. People don’t realize how easy some systems are to hack. I got really good at hacking websites and apps and transferring untraceable cash in seconds. Didn’t get caught for awhile. Racked up more money that I knew what to do with. Gave some of it to others who had sick kids.”

  “Like a health care Robin Hood.”

  “No, see, don’t do that, Mississippi. Don’t make a martyr outta me. I connected with the wrong people. Blew money on crap I didn’t even want. Took bigger and bigger risks. I was burning on anger and that’s what got me caught. Guess in some ways I wanted to get caught. I wanted out of life. Feds caught me on computer crimes, hacking, identity theft, credit card fraud, money laundering, the list goes on and on. I thought getting locked up would be an escape from life. It only trapped me with grief.”