Immersed

by Jenetta Penner

  "And that didn't concern you?"

  "Why would it? Your mother and I desired to perform our duty and held no interest in a single life. Accepting you as our child solved both issues."

  Father rises and pockets the Flexx with the photo of Mother on the screen. "I'm tired," he murmurs, and with that, he walks into his room and shuts the door.

  I chuckle at his strange behavior that, in reality for him, is not that strange at all. Baby steps are all I can expect.

  ~ ~ ~

  I stretch up from the sofa, morning light streaming through the single, small window in the unit. The sofa wasn't too bad as a bed, but after I get settled, my own unit would be nice. I doubt I'll be permitted to live in the city anytime soon, but I can dream.

  Maybe I'll turn my hair pink for a few days and get a fluffy animal to walk on the street.

  I chuckle at my silliness and push the idea aside. None of that is really likely to happen.

  From the looks of the closed door, Father's still asleep in his room. I keep quiet so as not to wake him, but figuring out the food preparation area without making a lot of noise is challenging, to say the least. Apparently, you have to make your food here. There's no food printer.

  No wonder Father's struggling so much.

  I rummage in the cold box containing the leftovers of last night's dinner. Father said it was Chinese noodles. Whatever the name, it's not great cold, but I eat it anyway.

  My handheld buzzes on my wrist with a message from Meyer.

  Can't make it this morning. Pulled into a meeting.

  My stomach sinks, mostly from the disappointing message, but the cold noodles don't seem to be settling well, either.

  I dig through the sack of outfits Ruiz sent when I was gone yesterday. It's full of the brightly colored pieces common in New Philly, but entirely foreign to a girl from Elore. I choose a gray top and black pants from the bottom of the bag. The others aren't quite me yet. Maybe tomorrow.

  I stuff the sack beside the sofa, message Father where I'm going, and head out, pulling up directions to the training center on my Flexx. Unfortunately, Ben's no longer outside my door, which isn't a big surprise, I guess, since they gave me permission to be without an escort.

  But why hasn't he tried to contact me?

  The weather is clear; blue skies dotted with silvery, puffy clouds. My heart skips as a large flock of birds swoop and dive across them. The testing center is on the far side of the compound. Along the way, I pass the storage unit housing the scooters we took into the city and the hover pods in need of repair.

  Upon entering my destination, a Simulated Intelligence bot floats to my side, oval in shape, and slightly flat on the bottom. The surface of the eighteen-inch-tall bot shines white, almost pearlescent. The two sensors simulate blinking eyes, as if the piece of tech is organic.

  "May I assist you?" A digital red line twitches like lips when it speaks.

  I stare at the faux lips and stifle a laugh. "Uh. Yes, please. I'm here for my training session?"

  "Excellent," it says. "Please place your palm at the specified area on my body."

  A digital handprint appears on its "chest," and I lay my palm to it. A slight vibration buzzes up my arm.

  "Good morning, Avlyn Lark. Please follow me."

  The SI wafts ahead, leading me through a corridor past a few white-coated people and plain sets of double doors. This time my presence doesn't garner the attention of anyone.

  Maybe this isn't a big deal. Maybe what happened yesterday at Sloan's didn't trigger any suspicion.

  Even so, my stomach whirls as we trek further into the building.

  Finally, we end at a set of double doors—gray and windowless, not unlike the rest we passed—and they slide back. Inside, four lab techs bustle about the space. In the corner sits a reclining chair similar to the one I sat in when they implanted my EP. This room also has a wall-sized screen with stats and figures of data the tech must be testing.

  At least it's not my stats this time.

  "Ms. Lark." President Waters appears from the room to my right, looking hurried and checking the time on his Flexx. The SI floats out the door we came in.

  I spin toward him, trying to sound cheerful. "Good morning, President Waters. Is anyone else coming?"

  "Only Ruiz." His expression remains serious, and although calm, I suspect he has other places to be. "How about you join me in the conference room and we'll get started."

  Without another word, he proceeds past the busy techs. Waters leads me into a room containing a black, rectangular table with eight chairs. I take a seat in the farthest spot from the entrance. A media viewer encompasses the wall opposite me.

  While we wait for Ruiz, Waters paces, looking at the Flexx again.

  I inhale deeply. "Will you be re-activating my EP today?" Small talk was never my strength, but it will pass the time, and hopefully he'll stop pacing.

  He pauses and reaches for the chair directly to his side. "Yes, and a short training session to get you acclimated." Sweat beads on his brow and he wipes it with his hand.

  Tingling works its way up my neck from his nervous energy.

  What do they know?

  The door slides back and in walks Ruiz, who gives me a quick smile. I stand as Waters ushers her to a seat, then taps on his handheld, activating the media viewer on the wall.

  "There are a few items of business to take care of before we begin."

  I suck in air as Kyra's identification image appears on the screen.

  "Ruiz made me aware you continue to believe Kyra is not at fault for setting you up in Elore," Waters says. "She was your friend, and it's difficult for you to see her any other way."

  "You don't know what happened to her," I reply.

  "I do understand, and it's a tragedy, but there is nothing we can do for her at this point."

  "Kyra has always been trust—"

  The words die in my throat as I realize the ridiculousness of them. Kyra betrayed me. She almost got me killed. In Affinity's eyes, her reasons were either to save herself or to get ahead.

  Still, she was the one who led me into a trap, almost killing me. The Kyra I thought I knew and the one looking out from the media viewer are not the same person.

  "You see something that's not there. Something based on emotions." Waters lowers himself into his chair. "Kyra's actions are likely about political advancement, not emotions."

  "You won't even consider the possibility that she may have betrayed me against her will?"

  I have to believe it was against her will.

  "If I may give you advice, Avlyn," Ruiz interjects. "Your awareness of the complexity of this situation remains quite limited. Our goal in this is to help you––and us––grasp your ability before it gets out of control, or falls into the wrong hands, not to involve ourselves in problems we are unable to fix. You're young. Please let those of us with more experience lead this."

  "We're both very sorry about what occurred to Kyra." Waters pauses a beat seemingly expecting my interruption, but I don't offer one. "Ms. Lark, whether your friend was once trustworthy or not, she is now part of Director Manning's agenda. You can't let thoughts that she's somehow innocent cloud your vision."

  I clench my fists at his order.

  She is innocent.

  Isn't she?

  "You must see the larger picture," Waters continues. "From our intel, we are aware Manning's interest in you has grown. He didn't recognize what he had while you were in custody. Now he's discovered his mistake. His interest is why we will be relocating you to a remote base, as this location does not offer the security we need. Elore is at a standstill for the time being with New Philadelphia, but it won't be for long."

  "Relocating me? I just got here." I grab onto the edge of the table. "And what about Aron? You took him as a prisoner of war and he's just sitting there. No one has told him what's to happen to him."

  "We don't have anything to do with him yet," Ruiz says. "In Elore, he was marked as on
e to watch. We felt he might be approachable by Affinity, but there were too many unknowns."

  "For now, he must wait," Waters adds. "Even so, he's no longer your concern. Tomorrow you will be leaving for training elsewhere."

  I open my mouth to argue, but Ruiz cuts me off. "So that means we should get going with the EP activation."

  I try to piece together an alternative plan, but nothing comes. I need extra time. There has to be another way to help Father and Aron so, for now, I keep quiet. Anyway, the EP could be useful.

  "Yes," I say.

  "The techs are ready." Waters shuffles us into the first room and the media viewer flickers on, showing my image, brain, and a mix of facts and figures.

  A middle-aged woman dressed in a smock ushers me to the chair and reclines it. "Unlike your implantation, you will be aware of this procedure," she says. "Everything should appear as virtual reality for you in a moment."

  Ruiz walks to my side and places a hand on my shoulder. "This will be all right. It's been cleared for me to maintain contact with you while you're away."

  "What about Father and Meyer?"

  She shakes her head. "I will relay whatever I'm allowed."

  A pang stabs through me at the thought of leaving Father here alone. He'll have no one.

  "Everyone ready?" Waters asks.

  "Yes, sir," says a lab tech from across the room.

  The tech to my right raises a handheld and scans my face. "Lie still, please."

  I do, but from the corner of my eye, I can see the media viewer go crazy, blipping in and out.

  My vision goes white.

  Chapter

  Eight

  The blank virtual reality space transform into a colorless, but structured room. A soft buzzing builds in volume until I can discern a few words, but not enough for me to recognize what's being said. I walk to the wall and place my ear against the surface, but still can't make out anything.

  Is this what I'm supposed to be doing?

  A flat voice I vaguely recognize drowns out the buzzing background noise. "Avlyn, can you hear me?"

  "Uh … yes?"

  "This is President Waters. You'll notice this restricted space has no exits. This allows us to keep your access to information limited for the time being and learn more about immersion. As you progress with your training, we will allow you additional access to the system."

  As Waters speaks, the buzzing words become louder, but they are garbled, unrecognizable.

  "Are you hearing this?" I ask the empty room.

  "Hearing what? You should only be hearing me," says Waters.

  "The buzzing—the words." I cover my ears, hoping it will dull the ever-growing noise.

  Wham.

  The sound forces me to my knees.

  "One hundred and ten miles to destination," the buzzing voice says.

  The room fades in and out, alternating the white space with the inside of a hovercraft … or at least that's what I think it is. It's similar to the one that transported us from Elore, except this one is lined with soldiers. Men and women stare blankly ahead, weapons in hand. On their uniforms is the DPF symbol. Direction Preservation Force, the Level One army Manning created.

  Terror washes over me.

  They're coming for us.

  I blink twice in the hope that leaving Virtual Reality functions the same as it has in the past. The room disappears and I shoot up from the chair they have me in. The EP fully engages and information about the room and the people in it fills my vision.

  "They're coming."

  The lab tech places her hand on my clavicle to press me back into the seat. "Whoa, what happened there?"

  Sophia Barnes

  Age: 45

  Sex: Female

  Security Clearance: A.3

  Heart Rate: Elevated

  More words show, but I don't care about any of it. Waters whips around from the media viewer and comes closer to me, followed by Ruiz. The viewer goes dark.

  "I'm sorry, sir," a lab tech says. "The system seems to have crashed."

  "Who's coming?" Waters demands. "What did you do in there?"

  Heart Rate: Elevated

  "Manning … Direction …" I shake my head. "They're sending troops into New Philadelphia. One hundred and ten miles out."

  Ruiz swipes her device. "Impossible. All the intel indicates Manning is holding. There has been no movement."

  "I don't know. I saw it in there. An attack is imminent."

  Ruiz snatches me up and pulls me out of the chair. "To be safe, we need to get you to a secure location."

  Waters paces while working on his handheld. "Someone get me information!" he shouts. "If what Avlyn says is true, we have approximately twenty minutes to launch a defensive." Waters eyes Ruiz and then looks my way. "Get her out."

  "I already have a guard ready for you," Ruiz says.

  "Is it Porter?" I ask. "My regular escort?"

  Please be Ben, please.

  Ruiz doesn't answer. As we step outside the lab, a uniformed male soldier with a stunner on his side salutes Ruiz. My hope sinks. It's the same guy who came with us into the city. The guard with the reddish-orange hair. Officer Nate Smith scrolls in my vision.

  Ruiz ignores the gesture. "Escort Ms. Lark to emergency bunker two-ten."

  "Yes, ma'am," barks the soldier, gripping my upper arm.

  "Avlyn, do as he says and you will be fine. Contact me using your comm if necessary," Ruiz instructs before she turns and walks away.

  Smith wordlessly guides me down the hall and out the front of the building. My EP goes berserk, green information scrolling the bottom and sides of my vision. My first instinct is to blink and deactivate the data feed, but I don't. Some of it might be useful.

  "Where's Porter?" I ask.

  Could Waters know about Ben's ability? Is that why he's not here? And what about my father and Meyer. Are they in two-ten?

  Smith silently continues to pilot me on the sidewalk. I flinch as a shrieking siren noise fills the air. A few people jog past us. Their IDs appear in my vision and disappear just as quickly. My guard keeps the constant pace and ushers me forward. From the way of the city center, a second siren sounds, a warning scrolls.

  Emergency Alert: Those in New Philadelphia proper, please return to your homes or to the nearest safety facility in your district.

  The Flexx on my wrist vibrates. I catch that the message is from Ben, but not what it says as Smith yanks me.

  Alert: Incoming vessel. 3.1 miles Southwest. 1 minute to arrival time scrolls in green.

  One minute? That's less time than Waters said.

  Smith steers me to the side of a nearby building. Detention Center, reads the sign, the facility Aron's being held in.

  "Will they be evacuating the detention center?"

  "Get down and wait—"

  A massive gray ship zooms over the top of us, drowning out Smith's voice as it heads from the city.

  New Philadelphia Aircraft 6875

  It's one of ours.

  A deafening roar blasts from behind us. Both Smith and I whip around to view a second ship with an Elorian symbol on the hull flying from sight, leaving a building partially destroyed and on fire. The flames swirl into the sky, and people pour from the wrecked exit.

  Please continue to bunker 210 blinks in red across the bottom of my vision, followed by more instructions.

  Smith yanks me to my feet and into a run toward the bunker, yelling, "Let's go!"

  There's a second roar, and an unseen force thrusts me to the pavement, Smith landing on my back. Dazed, I lean against the weight, rolling him off me. I throw my hand to my mouth and pull into myself when I see him.

  Officer Nate Smith: Deceased

  Blood flows from his head and down his freckled face, puddling onto the sidewalk. A giant, jagged piece of the building lay six feet ahead of us. How it hit Smith and missed me, I'm not sure. In front of me, flames cover the detainment center, just like the other building. A chunk of the front lay in
ruins.

  Aron's inside.

  Panic wells up in me and I check Nate another time. Still deceased, according to the EP. I grab for his stunner as another one of our ships darts overhead, shooting at a ship from Elore.

  Please continue to bunker 210

  My EP directs me to the bunker, and I jump up and head toward it. A deafening explosion sounds from behind me, and I swing around to the detainment center again. Flames lick at the building and workers scramble from the wreckage, some injured, some not.

  I circle back. I can't leave Aron in there.

  With surprising speed, I hurtle through a gaping hole in the wall into the foyer and pass dust-covered people trying to exit. My lungs fill with soot and sting with the desire for clean air. Despite that, I continue, but to appease them I stretch and hold the collar of my shirt over my mouth.

  Do not attempt. Risk of injury or death: 92%

  Both my lungs and the EP agree that entering the detainment center is a terrible idea, but I don't care. Ignoring the warning, I press into the obliterated foyer of the building. The metal door leading from the foyer is blown out and lies a few feet from me on the ground, contorted and twisted. I race through the opening, down the corridor. A crying woman rushes past me to freedom as I move away from it. The smoke has cleared in here, and I drop the collar of my shirt from my mouth.

  From outside, two more muffled booms sound. I duck and wait for something terrible to happen, but nothing new shows in my EP. The drab door marked 107B remains intact ahead, leading to the cells. Relief washes over me. If Aron's still inside, he's probably safe.

  My head spins as I try to work out what to do now. I palm the security pad.

  Access Denied

  I do it again and concentrate. Why isn't it working?

  Ugh, that device Waters implanted … it's blocking me. I could try to hack it manually.

  A roar sounds from above, shaking the building, and a few pieces of the ceiling tumble onto me.

  There's no time. I change the settings on the stunner to maximum and step back from the door. I fire directly into where I assume the locking mechanism would be. The door slides back and an alarm blares. I throw my hands to my ears to block the piercing shriek and move into the breach, peering into the window of cell four. In the room, Aron paces, eyes wide. I slam my fist to the window.