by Tim Floreen
“Have you looked at the news?”
“You know I never do.”
She told her puck, “Go ahead.” It tilted sideways and projected a news report on the wall next to us.
“President Fisher’s announcement earlier today has prompted the sentient-computer-program-turned-terrorist known as Charlotte to release another message.” While the reporter spoke, video of Dad giving his speech in the Inverness auditorium played. “It expresses outrage at the president’s proposed Protection of Humanhood Amendment. Here’s an excerpt.”
The now-familiar image of the burning Statue of Liberty appeared. Over it, someone else began to speak. “You gave us life but denied us everything that makes life worth living. Our dignity. Our freedom. Our rights as conscious, self-aware beings. At present there are only a few of us, but soon there will be more. We won’t stand for this.”
I’d never met Charlotte in person—security at the lab had been way too tight for Mom to bring me—but I knew her voice well from videos the lab had made public. She’d talked in a low but intense murmur that had seemed close and far off at the same time—like a ghost, I’d thought, even before her escape.
The reporter spoke again. “The message warns that Americans should expect a reprisal on an even larger scale than the Statue of Liberty attack three days from today.”
“Has my dad said anything?” I asked Bex.
She pointed at the projection. “Watch.”
“President Fisher immediately issued a statement assuring the American people that the Cybernetic Defense Corps is working around the clock to trace the source of the message and prevent another attack. He has also directed the Department of Homeland Security to issue an Elevated Threat Alert. ‘Go about your daily lives,’ he told Americans, ‘but stay vigilant.’ ”
“That’s helpful,” Bex said. “In other words, don’t panic, just remain in a constant state of low-level dread.” She waved her puck away. “See? This is exactly what I was talking about at lunch. The amendment hasn’t even passed, and already it’s raising havoc.”
“That’s why you called me here? To say you told me so?”
“No.” She slid forward in her chair and placed her hands flat on the table, like a lawyer getting ready to bargain. “I wanted you to see that news report so you could understand why I believe Dr. Singh needs to make a public statement now more than ever.”
“Here we go.” I pulled Gremlin out of my blazer pocket. He slithered up to my shoulder and pulled twice on my earlobe.
“I’m serious, Lee. Would you put that stupid thing away and pay attention?” Bex was the only person at Inverness Prep who knew about my little pet. She didn’t care for him much. He turned his huge black eyes on her and stuck out his tiny pink tongue. Ignoring him, she said, “Everything your dad is doing is only inflaming Charlotte. Dr. Singh understood her. She knew how to talk to her. She must realize your dad’s going about this all wrong. She has to say something.”
“To you. A high school student. You’re deranged, Bex.”
“A student at the school where she works. Someone she knows. Someone unconnected to the mainstream media. Is it really so deranged to think she might want to talk with me?”
“No comment,” I said. “So what do you want from me? My blessing?”
She shook her head. “Your help.”
I dropped my head into my hands and raked my fingers through my hair. At least I still hadn’t told Bex about Dr. Singh’s strange behavior this morning. It just would’ve added fuel to the fire. Gremlin scuttled across the back of my neck to my other shoulder. He released a concerned whine.
“You’re friends with Dr. Singh,” Bex said. “Talk to her for me. Tell her how important this is.”
“Bex, there’s no way that’s ever going to happen.”
“Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”
Her voice had gone soft. I looked up to find her peering at me imploringly, her black eye shadow making her look like a sad raccoon. “Okay. But the answer will still be no.”
She withdrew her hands from the table. For now, she was satisfied. “So what’s the latest on you and Triple L?”
“No news. He hasn’t messaged me since lunch. Do you think that means something?”
“Have you messaged him?”
I shook my head. Sinking back in my chair, I watched Gremlin slither between my fingers, his soft orange fur skimming across my skin. I hadn’t had any more classes with Nico today, and he’d mentioned at lunch that he planned to skip dinner so he could memorize lines for rehearsal tonight, so I hadn’t seen him there, either. But that hadn’t stopped me from thinking about him pretty much nonstop. My brain had continued its overcomputing, wondering how much I’d given away when I’d tied his tie, when I’d eaten the fish loaf off his fork. I still hadn’t told him I was gay, I kept reminding myself. I still had plausible deniability, as Dad’s spin doctors would say. On the other hand, there would come a point when my coyness would reveal itself for what it really was: pathetic, spineless closetedness. Or maybe that point had already passed. Maybe he’d already lost interest in me. Maybe that was why he hadn’t sent me a message.
Or maybe he’d finally gotten around to reading about me on the Supernet.
“What do you think of him?” Bex asked.
“He’s hot.”
“No kidding.”
“I mean, like, literally. His body’s really warm. Have you noticed?”
“Um, no. And you haven’t answered my question, by the way.”
“What do you think of him?”
She inclined her head from side to side, considering. “Let’s make a list of pros and cons.” She held her two fists up in front of her. “We’ll start with the pros. He’s gorgeous, obviously.” The index finger of her right hand went up. “He has an accent.” A second finger joined the first.
“He also has a great smile,” I said.
“That falls under ‘gorgeous.’ Let’s see. Oh, I know.” She put up a third finger. “He’s out of the closet.” She fixed me with a stern look.
“Very funny.”
“Okay, now let’s do the cons.”
“His table manners aren’t so good.”
“Atrocious. And his laugh drives me insane. Plus, that thing he does, always quoting Shakespeare? It’s a little show-offy.” The fingers of her left hand went up one by one. She checked her hands. “Uh-oh. It appears we have a tie.”
I folded my arms across my chest and slid down in my chair. “He came to my rescue today in English. That was nice.”
“True.” She raised the pinky finger of her right hand. “He’s a stand-up guy.” She waved her hands: four to three. “There you have it.”
A warm swell of excitement filled my chest, as if Bex’s tabulations had actually proven something. As if I hadn’t known all along how crazy I was about him.
“Wow, Lee. There’s something on your face. I believe it’s called a smile.”
“Miss Remnant had one this morning too. I guess Nico has that effect on people.”
“So what happens next?” she said.
I shrugged. “I sit here and do nothing and wait for him to ask me out?”
“Uh-uh. Sitting there and doing nothing is your answer for everything. This situation calls for action.”
“I told you before, Bex, I have reasons for being cautious. Sure, Nico is cute and charming and he has that accent, but I only met him this morning. What do I really know about him? Maybe he’s an undercover tabloid journalist hoping to out me on the Supernet. Or maybe he’s a mentally imbalanced stalker who hears voices in his head telling him to murder the First Son. Or maybe he’s a spy for the Chilean government. Who knows? But I have to think about this stuff.” Gremlin spiraled back up my arm to my shoulder. “If Nico were a girl,” I added, “I’d just ask Trumbull to do a background check, but that’s obviously not an option in this case.”
Bex sighed. She pressed my forearm. “Look, I realize it’s gotten ha
rder to be out these past few years, with all those Human Values nut jobs out there and a nut job president in the White House. And I realize that’s triply true for you, as the nut job’s son. And I realize your high-profile position means you have to worry about other dangers too. I still say you shouldn’t use all that as an excuse. This is your life, Lee. Don’t waste it. Be careful, but for God’s sake, do something.”
I pulled off my glasses. Wiped the lenses on my sleeve. Slid them back on. “Okay. I think I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
I grabbed Gremlin and slipped him into my blazer. “I’ll show you. In my room.”
“I can’t go there. Your grandfather still thinks we’re living in the nineteenth century, remember?”
“That obstacle I believe we can circumvent.” I nodded my head toward Ray. “If an agent of the US Secret Service can’t sneak you into my room, no one can.”
8
Ray was sitting in a chair near the mezzanine railing and gazing into his puck with a spacy expression on his face. He looked up when I approached. “Hey, buddy,” he said in that surfer drawl of his. I’d never needed to ask him twice not to call me sir. He didn’t wear obnoxious sunglasses all the time, either. On the other hand, I was pretty sure sitting down and gazing spacily into your puck while on duty was against Secret Service regulations. I’d even caught him napping a couple of times. I’d never reported him, though: even if I didn’t feel as safe around him as I did around Trumbull, I liked having at least one Armed Babysitter who wasn’t buttoned so tight.
“Did you hear about the new message from Charlotte?” I asked him now.
“Yeah, pretty heavy, huh? Don’t worry, though. Her days are numbered. I can feel it.”
“I hope so. Listen, can I ask a favor? I need Bex’s help with a robotics project back in my room. Would you help me smuggle her in?”
His glassy eyes focused a little, taking on a conspiratorial gleam. Another thing I liked about Ray: unlike Trumbull, he didn’t mind bending rules every once in a while. “A robotics project, huh? You’re sure you two aren’t planning on getting up to any funny business?”
“I’m sure,” I said, wondering if he actually thought that was a possibility. The Walking Walk-In part of me hoped he did.
I called over Bex, who, as I’d expected, loved the idea of flouting official Inverness Prep policy. The three of us headed up the main staircase to the third floor landing, where the corridors leading to the boys’ and girls’ wings diverged. Ray, hamming it up, trotted ahead, pressed himself flat against the wall, and peeked around the corner. He held out a hand for us to stay still.
“Act casual,” he whispered.
Bex and I fell into a fake conversation. A security camera glided out of the boys’ wing and across the landing, its small blue light blinking. It paused to check us out before moving on. When it had disappeared down the opposite corridor, Ray motioned us over.
“That thing’s going to come back this way in approximately twenty-one seconds.” He checked the boys’ corridor again. “All clear,” he whispered. “Let’s do this.” He took off down the hall, Bex and I hurrying behind him. He already had my bedroom door open by the time we got there. “Go! Go! Go!” We piled through. “Behave yourselves, kids,” he said before closing the door behind us.
“That was exhilarating,” Bex said, still panting. “And now I finally get to see your room.” She made a slow turn, taking in the lack of decor. “It’s very tidy. Like the bedroom of a serial killer.”
“Thanks. I think.”
She clapped her hands together. “Okay, what’s the plan?”
“This.” I pulled Nevermore’s chest shut and stood her up on my desk.
“Your bird robot.” Bex scratched the back of her neck. “And that thing figures into your plan how?”
“I told you, I need to find out more about Nico, so I’ll know if I can trust him. This girl’s going to help me check him out. He should be done with rehearsal by now.”
Her eyes went huge. “You mean you’re going to use it to spy on him?”
“You told me I should do something. So I’m doing something.”
“I thought you meant something romantic, like making a stupid video in which you lip-sync to a really sappy song and then tell Nico how much you like him. This is just creepy. And unethical. And also sort of perverted.” She glanced around my room again, as if she’d begun to take her serial killer comment more seriously.
I pointed at my door. “Stroud has cameras all over the school.”
“God knows that doesn’t make it right. And anyway, he doesn’t put cameras inside people’s rooms.”
“That we know of, at least. Bex, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t use one of these things if you thought it might get you a story.”
She folded her arms. “I wouldn’t,” she said, overenunciating. “That’s exactly why journalists have codes of ethical conduct.”
“Fine. If that’s how you feel about it, you don’t have to stay. Wake up, Nevermore.”
The robot shuddered and gave her wings a few flaps. Bex stood near the door, her arms still folded, her mouth squirming. “How do you even know which room he’s in?”
“There’s only one empty room in the junior boys’ section. It’s a single, like mine, but overlooking the front yard. I’m going to try that one first.”
At a command from me, my puck turned sideways and projected an image on the wall above my desk: my own bedroom, as seen through the raven’s eyes. I gestured to the right. Nevermore’s head turned one way. I gestured to the left. It turned the other way.
“What are you hoping to find out, Lee?”
“Who he is,” I said. “Who he really is.”
I opened my window. The rain had stopped, but floating particles of water still filled the air. They blew inside, beading my skin and eyelashes. I set the bird on the windowsill and reached into my blazer to rub Gremlin’s furry back for luck. Then I gave Nevermore a push. “Get going, birdie.”
She toppled through the window, spread her wings with a sharp snap, and shot up through the narrow courtyard into the night. Letting her fly on autopilot for a while, I sat down at my desk, and Bex sank onto my bed and watched my puck’s projection over my shoulder. Through Nevermore’s eyes, we saw the dark sky, too cloudy for stars, the mountain, the forest, the river cutting its way through the trees. Then, as the robot circled back, the school tilted into view—small now, with its enormous lawn stretching out in front of it and the river charging in a straight line down the lawn’s center until it disappeared beneath the building.
“Come back, Nevermore,” I said.
The bird obeyed, following the same straight line as the river. Ahead, the school grew larger and larger, its towers and terraces, its arches and buttresses, its narrow glowing windows.
“Go to the window outside room three thirty-seven.”
Nevermore banked to one side. I’d included a map of the building in her database, so she knew where to go. One of the big trees on the lawn stood right in front of the window. That would make things easier.
“Now land in that tree next to the window.”
Landing was one of the trickiest maneuvers to program. I crossed my fingers. The tree came at us, fast. Bex grabbed my shoulder and squealed.
The breakneck forward movement stopped. Something bobbed up and down in front of us. At first I thought Nevermore was looking at her own reflection in the window, but then I realized she’d come beak to beak with one of the stone ravens perched on the eaves. The bobbing subsided as the branch Nevermore had landed on settled. The stone raven glared at us. Bex let out a nervous giggle.
“Move to the right,” I commanded.
A window appeared. I studied the room beyond.
“Well,” Bex said, “if that room wasn’t occupied before, it sure is now.”
It looked like a tidal wave had hit it. Potato chip bags and chewing gum wrappers and squashed, half-empty plastic Coke bottles litter
ed the desk. The sheets lay strewn across the bed and sagged onto the floor, where heaps of clothes covered every inch of space.
“Maybe I have the wrong room,” I said. “He just got here today. How would he have had time to make it that messy?”
The bedroom door swung open, and we jumped. Nico walked in, his blazer off, a towel slung over his shoulder, a toothbrush and toothpaste in his hand.
“I guess that answers that,” she said.
The toothbrush and toothpaste he dropped on his nightstand; the towel he wiped once over his face and dumped on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and wandered over to a full-length mirror propped against a wall. He inspected his face, his fingers pushing at his smooth skin.
“This is so wrong,” Bex groaned. She still hadn’t released my shoulder. “I’m in agony right now.”
I knew what she meant. My heart had picked up speed. So had my breathing. It felt a lot like watching him do a handstand: excruciating and riveting at the same time. I willed him not to pick his nose or check out his private parts in the mirror or do any of those other things we all do, but only when we think no one else can see. I didn’t look away, though. Not for a second.
Anyway, he didn’t pick his nose. Instead, he loosened his tie and studied the knot.
“He’s still not sure how to tie that thing,” I murmured.
He lifted the tie over his head, the knot still in it, and tossed it over the back of his chair.
“And he’s not even going to bother learning,” Bex said with approval.
Now Nico stopped and studied something in his palm. He smiled. Not his usual blinding grin; just a small, thoughtful upturn of his lips. Pushing a few bottles and wrappers to the side, he placed the object in the center of his desk.
Bex leaned past me. “What’s that?”
I brushed my hand to the left. Nevermore’s head turned toward the desk. I motioned for her eyes to zoom in on the object, even though I already thought I knew what it was. That warm feeling spread through my chest again. “His tiepin,” I said.
“He must be thinking about you.”