I drive those thoughts aside, ignore the strange boy, and hustle to Bess's. The building emerges, and I give a last push to make it inside before curfew. The doors whoosh open to a modest lobby. Something about the boy bothers me again. I glance behind myself to see if he is still there, breaking curfew, but he's gone.
Thankfully, I've bought a few minutes, but could still be reported for not being inside a unit. Move. I must move. Nightmarish visions about babies in my head are one thing, nightmares in real life of being detained are quite another.
Lungs burning, I locate the stairwell and rocket up to Bess's floor. The door waits ahead, and I wave a hand over the visitor alert before bending over to catch my breath.
What if she's not home?
The thought's absurd. Where else would she be after curfew?
But it's what happened after Ben died. My bio father, Devan, just disappeared. I came for my year five visit and he was gone. When I got older, I asked Mother and Father about it, but they told me it was an inappropriate topic.
After a few seconds, I hear footsteps approaching the other side of the door. It bursts open to reveal a wild-eyed Bess, who catches my shoulders and yanks me inside the apartment.
"What are you doing?" she whispers.
Her mouth hangs open, waiting for a reply, but I'm still out of breath, and all that comes out are gasps as I suck in air. My legs give way and I slump to the floor as she closes the door.
Bess kneels beside me. "Avlyn, you shouldn't be here."
When I try to respond, I freeze under Bess's arms, which have wrapped around my shoulders. Part of me aches to hug her, relieved, but the shock of the embrace paired with the exhaustion cements my arms to my side.
"Bess," I utter, but she doesn't release me. "Bess!" I'd bolt if it weren't for the drones waiting outside.
"Sorry," she whispers. "You're not used to that." Bess pulls back and wipes wisps of her hair off her face. "You should be home."
"I know," I reply as unexpected tears form. My voice shakes as I try to explain. "It's my configuration day, and I went for a run, but must have been... distracted, and had no time to get home." Barely making sense, the tears start to flow, and my chin falls to my chest.
Bess cups and lifts my face. "It's okay," she sighs. "We'll figure this out. First, do your parents know where you are?"
My eyes widen. "No. I'm sure they tried to message me." I swipe away the curious words still on the screen from the message I received earlier in the park, hoping Bess didn't see them. Sure enough, I find several frantic messages from my parents. Not frantic as in they are truly worried about me, but as in they worry how it will look on them if I'm caught.
Flexx 682AB1-ALARK: I'm fine. Safe.
My hand hovers over the screen. Do I tell them more? I'm seventeen today, and I don't have to tell them anything anymore if I don't want to, but will they turn me in if they know I'm here? I don't think so. They won't risk it looking poorly on them.
But if they don't know I'm here they might report it since I could have been dragged away by rebels or something.
Flexx 682AB1-ALARK: With Bess.
I send the message and quickly turn off the messaging function for now. After a deep breath in, I look up into Bess's freckled face, much like mine, and the flowing, chocolate-colored hair skimming the bottoms of her shoulders. It's been a year, but she's barely changed.
"Not much we can do now." She gives a crooked smile. "How about dinner? Then fill me in on your day."
* * *
After the meal, I try to rise to clear my plate and recycle the picked-at food, but Bess tells me to sit and relax.
How can I relax?
Not only should I be home, but the surrounding room feels tight with loads of mementos she's gathered over the years. Our unit has nothing of the sort. A delicate figurine of a deer with pink flowers painted on stares my way. Its gaze makes my feet twitch uncomfortably underneath the table. I try to will them to stop, but when I'm not paying attention, they start up again. Bess leaves me to sit alone, gawked at by the knick-knack, and takes the plates into the kitchen.
I break away from its stare and turn to an image viewer, fashioned from a late model Flexx, sitting on the shelf in the living room. The device flips through random still images of nature. Leaves and trees, a sunset image she could have taken from the roof of the apartment.
As I stare, my breath hitches at the next image showing Bess, Devan, and Ben. Devan is handsome, I guess—light skin, straight, chestnut-brown hair, and a shy smile. The opposite of Father, with his dark brown skin and perpetual confidence. Ben must be around four years old in the picture, with short dark brown hair, light skin, and freckles across his nose… like mine. The image must have been taken just before he died.
Bess and I typically don't discuss him much. I've always told myself the silence is for her sake. She's emotional and susceptible. In truth, I'm protecting myself.
"He would have been placed today, too," Bess says, coming back into the room. Bess's thin arms wrap around her torso, and she has a wistful look in her eyes. Usually I'd change the subject, but I can't think of anything else today.
"Bess, tell me about Ben," I whisper, expecting her to cry, but instead, she straightens and takes a deep breath. She purses her lips, and for a second, I'm sure she'll refuse the conversation we've avoided for years.
"He'd turned four a few days before that picture was taken, and a month after that, he… died."
She eyes the viewer, maybe remembering that day in her head. When she continues, her voice is shaking.
"Devan and I took it after your yearly visit, since it wasn't appropriate to take the two of you together." She pauses for a beat and looks away. "You aren't mine, but I thought it would help me remember the day better… and that you two had a nice time."
My chest tightens with her words. It's the same day Ben gave me the necklace.
"What was he like?"
"A lot like you, even though he was determined Level One." She sighs. "Reserved most of the time, unless with you."
With this, my mind sparks with a memory… or a vision? Everything goes white again and the two of us are together, just Ben and me. Such joy. Laughter. The scene vanishes and I'm left with despair. I can't see his face anymore, but a child's cry shrieks in my ears.
As fast as it came, the vision and cries dissipate.
"Did he ever cry when we were together?" I choke out.
"Oh, no." She shakes her head. "He was so happy to meet you each year, even the first time. The two of you understood each other. That's one reason we never had our meetings outside the home. You were impossible to contain… like that time in the park when you two rolled down the hill." She clears her throat. "Neither of you ever cried when the meetings ended, as if you knew you'd come together again."
The memory gnaws at me. "Are you sure?"
Bess's eyes lose focus. "I'm not sure. Maybe I've forgotten. Anyway, he always followed the rules. Ben was a good boy. The best behaved at pre-Primer school, so his teachers said. Devan and I enjoyed... raising him."
She's choosing her words carefully, I realize, avoiding the word "love" or other emotional ideas. It could be for my benefit, but maybe she doesn't trust me, or thinks I'll report her. From the watering of her eyes though, I can tell how she really feels.
She forces a smile and steps closer. "What else would you like to know?"
A million questions flutter in my mind, all out of reach. "I don't know," I lie. "That's all, I guess." Desperate to change the subject, I wrack my brain for a new topic. "What time is it?"
Bess checks the time on her handheld. "Eight fifty-eight. Oh... a Direction address is on tonight regarding a new MedVac announcement. Would you like to watch it?"
I shift and rub my palm where I took my MedVac this morning, then nod. She turns on the media viewer and the two of us move to the couch.
Director Manning, a Level Three science expert, steps up to the podium. Manning must be sixty years
old by now, but his body barely shows it. Medium in height, he still appears strong, and his hair only shows a small amount of gray.
"Greetings, citizens of Elore," he booms. "Tonight, I'm here to announce an exciting update concerning the latest MedVac."
I'd swear some of the tingling is back in my palm.
Manning reminds us that over one hundred years ago, the human race risked extinction from a deadly flu the government called Aves, which crossed from birds to humans. Only a limited amount of both species survived the Collapse. Scientists refined a series of vaccines combined with technology, and these have continued to keep us safe from new threats ever since. I've heard the spiel hundreds of times.
"Under Direction Science, a new, more powerful version has been developed to fight specific viruses and help build a super immune system. This newest version will make a permanent bond with your internal nano system. It is designed to evolve, as needed, to protect against any future threats. Vaccination schedules over the next two weeks will be determined by each person's Level and assignment. Citizens are required to report to assigned medical facilities or test stations for inoculation. This information is already available in your citizen's account."
His droning makes my eyelids droop but pop back open for a stern "Maintain Forward Focus." The scene shifts to Brian Marshall and an interview with a pandemic expert. A replay, I guess.
"Well, that was interesting." Bess flicks off the screen and we sit, not speaking, for what seems like a very long time.
She attempts to make small talk, and I have no desire to do that with her. Bess is weak. Emotional. Everything I'm not supposed to be but often am. I don't need more reminders.
"I'm tired," I say.
"Yes, you must be. Do you need anything before bed?" she finally asks. "I'll bring extra blankets and a pillow for the couch. It's not great, but there's no bed in the office."
I dart my eyes to the office door, the room that belonged to Ben. I have no idea why she keeps this two-bedroom. Maybe she can't bear to leave the home where he lived.
"No," I answer. "I'm set."
She rises and disappears into her bedroom, returning with the bedding.
"It's late, and I'm sure you need sleep. I'll be here if you need me."
I nod and take the bedding from her. "Thanks for tonight."
"Sure," she murmurs and returns to her room. To my relief, she doesn't give me another crazy hug.
I toss aside the linens and activate the messages on my handheld. One is from my parents, which I ignore, the other from Kyra, wondering about the meeting. After arranging the pillow and blanket, I pull the device from my wrist and message her back as I climb under the bedding.
Flexx 682AB1-ALARK: GenTech. Talk later.
I barely hit send before the world goes black.
* * *
A Guardian snatches me off the street, then drops me to the ground. I scream the whole way down.
My eyelids shoot open as I jolt and suck in air. The silhouette of the room forms around me.
Not real. Just a dream.
My body slumps with the realization.
But I am still at Bess's. That part wasn't a dream.
I lie back, mind racing with thoughts of my GenTech assignment and the vision of Ben, or some child, crying. Eyes wide, I snag my Flexx from the floor and check the time.
2:14 AM
Ugh, I need sleep, not this. I swing my legs onto the floor, not moving for a few minutes. Through the window, a limited view displays the Level One cityscape. There's Guardians in the sky, swooping in and around the city. The moon shining across the buildings makes the shadowy world outside seem like a dream.
Or a nightmare.
Searching the room, differences stand out from my functional Level Two apartment. I'm unaccustomed to all these useless items displayed on her walls and shelves: a framed painting of an unrecognized location, a collection of shells. Where did they even come from? You can't order junk like this from your citizen's account.
Across the room, the beady-eyed deer stares again. I walk toward the figurine, pluck the piece from its place, and rub its smooth texture. I return the delicate item to its spot on the shelf after a moment, turning it so it can't look at me anymore.
I wheel around toward the couch, but the office door catches my eye. Ben's old room.
A ghost of a memory seems to hurry past my body and race toward the door. In a blink, it's gone, but the desire to see the room is not. This is my last visit to Bess's, and the final chance to be close to Ben in some way.
On tiptoe, I step toward the office, and once there, reach for the manual handle and twist it. The door opens, revealing a desk pushed up against the wall with an active system on top, providing the only light in the room. A few plastic boxes are scattered about.
I step in further and hunt for any evidence of Ben, but it's not there. Most of the boxes are empty, and those that have something in them turn out to just be more junk.
I wrack my brain, trying to remember him more clearly. Not the made up version from my head, the real Ben. But we were only four, how much could there be to remember?
Disappointed, I sink into a squat in front of the desk and rest my face in the palm of my hands.
Just let it go.
I wipe my eyes and start to rise when I see something particular. Under the desk, the baseboard of the wall is cracked. I don't know why I care. Everything in Level One seems to be shabby. Even so, I push away the chair and trace the crack with my finger.
Pull it.
I pick at the flaw with my fingernail, and a chunk of the baseboard comes free, revealing a cavity barely larger than my hand. When it does, a memory floods my brain.
This was Ben's hiding spot. That morning, he pulled the wrapped heart necklace from the hole. His little hands clutched the gift as if it were the most precious possession in the world. Ben's palms opened and he thrust the parcel into my hands.
"Hide it," he whispered. I'd quickly stuffed the unopened package into my pocket and ran out of his room back to my parents. Our visits were always quick, and only out of obligation. Direction wants us to know where we come from so there are no questions that get in the way of our focus once we become citizens.
I force my hand into the small space and feel around. To the right is something soft. I pinch for it and pull it out.
It's a stuffed creature, no bigger than my hand. From its long ears and short tail, I think it's supposed to be a rabbit, but I've only seen rabbits on the net as a past food source.
Gently, I place the rabbit aside and feel to the left inside the hole. From there, I pull a stack of folded papers, tied together with a string. It's the same brownish paper my heart necklace has always been wrapped in. I brush my fingertips over the crinkles and untie the string, then flip through the pages.
Personal letters. Before I open any, I crane my neck, looking out the door of the office to make sure there's no sign of Bess.
With trembling hands, I switch on the light of my handheld. The notes are from Devan to Bess when they were first paired. As I read them, a strange warmth fills me. In one, he confesses to Bess how nervous he is that she was pregnant with twins. Nervous, but excited with the possibilities. He loved her so much. So why did he leave?
The letters have obviously been read many times, folded and refolded into place. Some brittle edge pieces fall to the floor. The last in the stack is dated much later, right after Ben died. The writing is sloppier than the others, almost unreadable.
Bess,
I at least owe you a good-bye. Virus 3005B offered the escape I needed, one which should have been taken long before now.
Don't worry. I deleted all the files, and you will no longer have to think about what happened. I know you cannot leave, so it's better this way.
On your own, you have enough credits saved to last you. I'm sorry, but you won't hear from me again.
Devan
Virus 3005B? That's the virus from which Ben died. Were
they glad it killed him? Released them of their duty?
What's wrong with them?
Bess acts like she cares for Ben, and even me. And Devan... he made some emotional choice and look where it got him. No doubt eaten up by wild animals, or killed by a virus in the Outerbounds.
My breath catches. This is sick. No way is love worth this. I flip through all the letters of him declaring his love, then what? This? They were glad when the virus took Ben? The whole thing disgusts me. Attachments are dangerous... Direction is right.
With shaking hands, I restack the letters, barely tie the string back around them, and stuff them back into the hiding spot, sweeping in the paper scraps that fell on the floor. Using the broken piece of baseboard, I cover the opening again.
My hands grip the lip of the desk above me and I pull myself up.
I deleted everything.
I stare at her desktop system, a very out-of-date model. Does it even still work?
Pulling back the chair, I plop into it. If there's something left on this system, I'll find it. I always do. Ben at least deserves that.
I activate the viewer and link my Flexx. Years ago, out of boredom, I programmed a data recovery program and hid it on my device, just in case.
The program runs, downloading the information to my handheld. The file I want would be old… from thirteen years ago. Most of them that old appear overwritten, but if he was really in a hurry, maybe he forgot.
I scan the recovered list.
PROGRESSIVE RESEARCH PROGRAM WEEK 10
The words jump off the screen, and for a split second, the sound of a scream fills my mind and is gone with a jolt. I gasp and shake off the shiver threatening my body, tapping to open the file.
Configured: (Book #1 in the Configured Trilogy) Page 4