"Thanks," I mutter, not that politeness matters when you speak to a SI. It disappears from the artificial room.
Apart from two awkward bathroom breaks with the SI outside of VR, and my first use of credits on a turkey sandwich from the eating area on the main floor, I stay locked in the mock workspace all day.
Day one of a life of lonely monotony.
* * *
After my shift, the reality of being back on the street floods me with thoughts of Ben and the knowledge that my parents are probably livid with me. The ache in my back returns.
"Avlyn!"
I swing around at the familiar voice to see Kyra jogging toward me.
"What happened?" she pants as she eyes me. "Long day?"
I'd almost forgotten about my appearance. During one break, I tried to smooth my hair out, but it didn't help much. I push a clump of hair behind my ear while heat slithers up my neck.
"Yeah, intense," I reply. "It was stupid. I… I fell on the way to work and didn't have time to go home and change."
Daniel rushes past, sending a shiver down my spine. I turn to watch him get into a taxi.
"Who's that?" Kyra asks.
Trouble.
"No one. Can we just walk?"
"Of course. I wanted to make sure you were settling in." She gestures and starts in the direction back home.
"You mean spying on me," I say, catching up.
"Spying?" Kyra gives me a look of indignation, but we both know it's true.
After our month-long transition to citizenship, we will not be allowed to see each other on a friendly basis. Direction doesn't exactly forbid it, but doing so would publicly announce our disloyalty toward the Initiative. Over the next month, our lives will diverge. Soon she'll become a memory of childhood and nothing more.
I change the subject. "I'm getting my own apartment."
"You are? Well, that's good news. Maybe there's hope for you, yet." Kyra cracks a small smile. "At least my work over the years wasn't wasted. When's moving day?"
"If I choose a unit tonight on the network without a viewing, then… tomorrow." I own little, and since the units come basically furnished, all it takes to move is packing a few bags and leaving.
"Make sure to message me an image after securing a unit," she says. "So… GenTech? How much are the credits for working there? Big, right?"
A tiny bit of tension enters her voice. Kyra has always dreamed of a top tier unit so she could imagine she was a Level Three. This is the first time I've potentially outranked her, but we'll know for sure on Monday after her configuration day.
I blow it off to make her feel better. "It's not as much as you might think."
"I figured it was only a childish rumor. I mean, why would you have been placed there otherwise?"
The comment stings, but in the end it's my own fault. I'm the one who hid my skills all these years.
She means well, but Kyra needs some manners.
6
At the door to my unit, I close my eyes, take in a long draw of air, and release it slowly. Inside, Mother springs up from a chair in the living room, and Father comes from the kitchen. As they rush over, my muscles tighten, bracing myself for the onslaught.
"Sit down."
The words are simple, but the tension in Father's voice tells me the lecture I'm about to hear is anything but.
I slink toward the sofa, reluctantly sitting on the edge of the cushion. Mother still stands near the door, arms crossed as Father keeps his distance several feet away.
I raise my lowered eyes and make contact with Father's face.
"Well?" he finally says.
Thoughts of everything that has happened over the last twenty-four hours intertwined with excuses swirl through my head. None of them are going to make this situation better.
"I'm packing tonight."
"Good," Father huffs and turns to walk from the room.
"You risked our reputations as upstanding citizens, Avlyn." Mother speaks in a low voice. "Don't let us hear of anything like this in the future, or we will not hesitate to report you. Your father and I will be keeping close tabs on your progress over your transition period.
She turns and leaves me with nothing to say, only a hollow in my stomach.
I have no one.
* * *
I view my unit options alone in my room late into the night. In the end, my chosen apartment is impressive. At least, I think it is. I'll know for sure when I see it in person. Of all the ones on the housing infosite, this one has the loveliest view, and is in extra-safe sector E, right next to Level Three.
After what happened yesterday in Level One, I'm glad I'll be far away from there. If I'm to succeed, I need to know I can focus on the right choices, not worry about Bess or events in Level One that are none of my business.
* * *
The few bags I have are packed and pushed into the hall. Mover drones will come retrieve them later this morning. A relief, since my back is still killing me from yesterday and my knees ache anytime I bend.
Still tired, and avoiding my parents, I sit on my bed and mull over the room around me. It's not much. Bare walls, no decorations or keepsakes. Little more than the bed and a desk that sits with a chair in front for working.
I stroke the plain bed covering. It's soft enough, but still only functional. Meant for warmth, not comfort. Nothing to miss here.
Pushing from the bed, I remember Ben's necklace, and an ache fills my chest. I kneel and run my hand under the mattress, finding the gift he gave me what seems like a million years ago. I pull out the paper and the charm falls into my hand. A lump forms in my throat as I think of what we went through, what he must have endured for four years. If the pain I felt in my vision was any indicator…
The necklace and wrapper find its way into my pocket for safekeeping.
Gathering my courage, I slip my satchel over my shoulder and leave my room. The other bags are gone.
Mother and Father are in the living room watching a news report concerning the explosion in Level One. Rebel attack, multiple injured, two dead are the words I pick up from the hall.
It could have been me that died. Would have they cared, or only been horrified to be associated with me?
From what I hear, nothing is mentioned about the words I saw graffitied on the building. YOU'VE BEEN LIED TO.
I straighten and make a beeline for the door. If my parents wanted to say good-bye, which I highly doubt, I don't give them the opportunity, but the ache in my heart follows me.
* * *
A blast of wind blows from behind me as the taxi pulls away from the curb, and I'm left alone on the relatively deserted sidewalk. The building before me is towering and smooth, practically liquid, built in the last few years. Anyone would be glad to live here, and now I do, in unit 2438.
A willowy girl with long black hair approaches the entrance and goes inside. I take it as a cue to follow. Once inside, I fall in line as she waits at the elevator.
To pass the time, I stare at the light above the doors.
"New in this building?" asks the waiting girl.
At this, I flinch. Why is this person talking to me? I lived in my parents' apartment for seventeen years, and I don't believe I knew one of the other families that lived in our building, let alone would recognize someone new to the building.
"Um, yeah. Moving in today." I flick a glance her way, and she stares back with kind, russet, almond-shaped eyes. A nervous pang in my stomach makes me turn away. I don't need distractions.
Focus.
With a chime, the elevator doors finally open. Inside, she lays a hand on the pad and I follow. Both for floor twenty-four. Shaking my head, I wrap my arms around myself and lean on the back wall of the cab. When the doors slide open again, my legs want me to bolt out, but I let her lead. No need to be followed.
I check the directory for my unit number and spot it. It's the same way the young woman is headed.
Of course.
Trying to
disappear, I clutch my bag against my body and put one foot in front of the other, keeping a safe distance. Eventually, she stops, opens her door, and disappears inside. I check for mine and suppress a laugh. It's right across the hall from hers.
Shaking my head, I go to open my unit.
"Congratulations on your new apartment," the girl calls from behind me.
I jump as her door shuts, leaving me alone in the corridor.
Safely inside, I turn and rest against the door while pinching the bridge of my nose. Finally peering up, an astonishing view of the city greets me, and I forget about the girl.
My unit is close to the top of the building, and allows me a wide-angle vista of Level Two. The Representative building, taupe with a white domed top, is in plain view, and behind it is Level Three. Level Three has the tallest and most spectacular buildings of all, their rooftops glaring in the sun, making me squint. A view isn't necessary, but still a welcome, private perk. Kind of like a birthday gift to myself.
Below, the sidewalks are nearly emptied of citizens. If Elorians don't work on the weekend, many of us remain in our apartments, safe.
I drop my satchel on the dining table and notice my other bags have arrived. The unit is modest and functional, but cozy. I'll enjoy curling up here after a long day at work, if the neighbors leave me alone.
I stuff my hand into my pocket and find the necklace Ben gave me. The mattress provided a good place to stash it before, so I shove it under the one in my new bedroom.
Kyra wanted an image of the unit once I arrived, so I flop on the bed and swipe the screen of my device to send her one from the listing.
Lost time is never found again.
My eyes widen.
What is this?
It's another message like the one I received at the park. I just want a normal life, to do what I am supposed to, but a report could bring attention on me, and I am not normal. They may find out I spent the night at Bess's.
What if they discover I'm having these visions? Direction could bring me in for testing again.
Ignore it. Act ordinary. Be an exemplary citizen.
I swipe the words away, unfold the device into a tablet, and find the spouse pairing section of my account. Something normal, and better than weird messages, nosy neighbors, and seeing my dead brother.
Four choices await me. Two have already sent invitations. I ignore the first one, but the other's from the guy named Aron Barton, the one I noticed when I first checked.
5'10"
Five inches taller than me.
Blond hair
Blue eyes
And he has the same tanned skin as Kyra.
Career Placement: Syn Corporation
Division: Electrical Engineering
Compatibility: 98%
Like GenTech, SynCorp is another high-ranking company, but specializing in drone manufacturing.
He seems okay. Why not?
According to Direction, he's 98% perfect. I select the AGREE TO MEET button, no turning back now, and hide the other invitation. Then I flick off my handheld, fold it, and snap it to my wrist. My right leg bounces with energy, despite my stiffness from yesterday. I crave a run, but my bruised knees have other ideas, like staying in on my couch. Despite the view, being cooped in here lacks appeal.
A walk. That would work.
My knees concede to the idea, and I pull my running shoes from one of the packed bags in the living room. They're scuffed, probably from my fall yesterday. I make a mental note to order a new pair. The scuff isn't a big deal, but the memory is, and I can afford new ones now.
On the street, the warm afternoon air brings new life into my lungs. The sunlight slides over the buildings, and seeing the rays turns up the corners of my mouth. Just to be sure, I check my Flexx for the time. Hours and hours before curfew.
"Do you have the time?" a familiar, deep voice asks from behind.
My stomach clenches as I whip around to look at him. Our gazes lock, and I'm certain it's the guy from Level One. Tall, muscular, eyes so dark they're nearly charcoal.
I step back. What if he was involved in that attack?
"You weren't hurt, were you?" he whispers.
I shift and march away from him, but my leg muscles stiffen. As his footsteps close in, my heart picks up speed. A woman across the street pauses to watch, but then moves on. This has to stop.
I swing around to find his body inches from mine.
"What? What do you want?" I whisper. I long to scream at him, but it would draw too much attention.
He raises his eyebrows and shifts back, but then his lips curl into a smile. He's wearing the same drab clothes everyone else wears, but he's different, charming. Something about the sparkle in his eyes draws me in.
I tilt my head and will the thoughts away. My fists tighten. "You find this funny? Are you sending these messages?"
"No, no... it's not funny. But yes, I did send the messages." He smiles again. His straight teeth beg me to punch them.
"Why are you bothering me?" I demand lowly. "Did you have something to do with that explosion?"
"We had nothing to do with that." His hands slip into his pockets and reveal the top part of a black watch. Peering toward the ground, he murmurs, "I helped you when you were freaking out."
He did, and I'm grateful. To be honest, he seems sincere. Something in me begs to trust him.
No... concentrate.This guy may be a terrorist.
With a sudden burst of bravery, I square my shoulders toward the boy. "In no way does the favor excuse you following me. Stalking me."
He doesn't respond to the statement. Instead, he gestures down a different sidewalk. "This route is safer."
A security vehicle passes and I lower my voice even more. "Safer? What do you mean safer?"
He tips his head. "I mean less surveillance, Avlyn."
"Maybe I want more surveillance." I don't, but he doesn't need to know that.
He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. A Guardian's whirring sounds above the building, reminding me of the need to end this conversation quickly.
"You need to leave me alone—whoever you are."
"Meyer. My name's Meyer."
I turn, and those knees that didn't want to run earlier change their mind.
Fortunately, I'm wearing running shoes, even if they are scuffed.
7
"No, stop!"
The words whirlwind in my brain, and a scream grows in my throat, but no sound comes. My lungs refuse the air buffeting my face and body. My heart threatens to escape my chest through brute force.
A Guardian hovers above, its long, unending metal tentacles snaking and squeezing around me. I rip at them, but my wet palms slip from the surface. I writhe through the freezing air as I'm carried hundreds of feet over the city. The hair on my arms and neck pricks at my skin. Tightness spreads over my back, and I try to wrap my arms around myself to stop my shaking, but they're trapped.
The stone detention center I've seen on the newscasts whooshes into view. Blazing orange flames consume the building, and swarms of drones drop other people into the inferno. One swoops past, clutching the rebel girl with the brown skin from the other morning. Her bright fabric has become flowing, and streams across the sky like a crimson banner. She screams and flails as the Guardian dumps her. The blaze devours her body and greedy flames kick into the ashy streaked sky.
I recoil when the scent of black charcoal mixed with sulfur assaults my nose.
Burning people. Burning rebels.
"Not me! I do what I'm told." The words eventually escape my lips, but the uncaring, unhearing drone does its job. Disposing of me.
"We have to take care of you like we took care of Ben," the drone says in a mechanical voice.
My handheld buzzes in my pocket, and I wrestle to slip it out. My eyes sting and water from the soot, but I make out a blurry Avlyn, you are running out of time.
I scream, my legs pushing out against my bindings. A pop and crunch compels me to s
train harder against the loosening restraints until they give way.
I surge upright, screaming, "Get off me!" I gasp and rip and claw at the tentacles still coiling around me…
Except no metal exists. Only fabric. Only my sheets.
I finally kick the cloth off and fall back into the bed. My veins threaten to explode from my racing pulse, and a caustic scent still works its way around my nose. I roll over and curl up, hugging myself. My teeth chatter, synchronized with the shudder traversing my spine.
My shaking slows, allowing reality back inside. I push up and rest against the headboard. I don't even know how I got to sleep after that boy... Meyer, tried to corner me on the street earlier.
Do what I'm told. Ignore the undirected.
I swing my legs off the bed, then get up to activate the new system on the desk. I spot my account link and swipe the screen.
ONE NEW SPOUSE PAIRING MESSAGE
Yes. A perfect distraction.
MESSAGE FROM ARON BARTON
Avlyn Lark,
I request an initial spouse pairing interview. It has been determined we are 98% match for producing Level Two or higher children. This is a favorable percentage.
I scan the rest. Ah… a normal guy. A normal guy without a watch. One that doesn't give me nightmares, looking to meet for dinner tomorrow at a nearby Direction café.
* * *
In front of the café, I check the time. Early. Why my stomach is churning like a whirlpool, I don't know. The meeting isn't about love, right? This is only to talk. A duty. Who cares if we're not a fit, it's what I should be doing. Forgetting the past. Forgetting my twin.
Configured: (Book #1 in the Configured Trilogy) Page 6