by Shiloh White
“Ouch,” was all I managed to say before my vision darkened and I passed out.
13. I Wreck More Than The Car
I woke up to the smell of burnt leather around me—I was back in the TransPort chair. Only, it was lurching forward at a strange angle. It felt like I was being held in place on a roller coaster; at any given moment, I could drop right out. Except I was still strapped in. My head was still throbbing with pain and now my vision was blurry. I could hardly see much of anything in the dimly lit room. I started to look around, but it made me too nauseous to move. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked over and saw a blur coming in and out of focus. I figured it was Dart. He was standing, hunched over his computer and clacking away his keyboard.
“No, no, no!” he shouted at his screen. “Lost it again!”
“Loswha?” I slurred. The machine must have really done a number on me because I meant to ask “Lost what?”
Dart shook his head, and walked away from his table and over to me. He unfastened the straps around my wrists and then started on my ankles absent-mindedly while he examined the chair itself.
“It looks horrible,” he mumbled to himself in disappointment. That was a bummer, I guess. But I was a little more concerned with getting out. I clenched the armrests to keep from falling out of the chair as I waited for Dart to unlatch the first strap around my ankle. I wanted to tell him to hurry up, because every time he started to work, he would get distracted by another piece of the machine. Right now, he was looking at the back of the seat. I cleared my throat to get him to focus, but it didn't make a difference. Maybe a distraction from his distraction would help. “Why does my head hurt so bad right now?” I asked.
“It's the TransPort,” he said, popping out from behind the chair. “It's programmed to imitate physical experiences as well as re-creating your emotional memories.”
“That's crazy!” I yelled. “Not to mention, it almost got me killed. Why would anyone build that?”
Dart looked down, suddenly engaged in getting my ankles un-strapped as quickly as possible.
“It was the only way the builders could get it to work,” Dart finally said. “They're two crucial parts of the same algorithm. Besides, a normal person has both physical and emotional feelings.”
Physical and emotional feelings. When had they ever come in handy? I shoved air out of my lungs in disgust.
“I'm not sure I like this algorithm. Is there any way to turn it off?” “No,” he said as he unstrapped my first ankle, which fell asleep over the time it took. I braced my leg against the rest of the chair so it didn't shoot out and hit Dart with dead weight. “But the newer models we have are able to patch you up and stabilize you once you exit the zone. This old piece of history isn't quite that advanced.” As if on cue, he unlatched my second ankle so much faster than the first one, that I fell out of the chair—and it creaked forward. If Dart didn't catch me, I'd have a busted nose to go with my headache. Then, if the creaking wasn't enough, sparks shot out from the helmet. Then it sputtered and smoked for a moment, and stopped altogether; its display of agony over.
I looked at Dart, but kept my mouth shut. He stood there staring at the machine, mortified. I, on the other hand, was more concerned that I was sitting in the thing. And for that long! I could've just as easily been fried. Dart walked over to the helmet to get a closer look. He must have been crazy. The thing could blow up.
“Oh.” he sounded defeated. “What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“It's not good. The-”
KRRRSZZT! A loud sound like an alarm cut Dart off, drowning out all other sounds in the room. When I heard it, I about ran for the table to hide underneath it. Then a loud voice spoke through the same deafening speakers:
“LUCY HALE AND OFFICER PASCAL DART PLEASE REPORT TO THE MEETING ROOM! THANK YOU.”
“What was that?” I asked Dart.
“We're being called over the intercom.” he answered.
“Intercom?” I asked, still dazed by the loud sound.
“Yes.” Dart sighed impatiently. “It’s like a loudspeaker. Aren’t you in high school?”
Before I could answer, he ushered me out of the room, and shut the door behind him.
“Forget it; we have somewhere to be.”
✽✽✽
I wanted to argue with Dart that I knew what an intercom was. Truth was my school could just never afford them. We just had a super loud bell, which didn't even sound like a bell. (Sad, right?) Don't get me wrong; I'd heard about them from my classmates. But between that and my display back in the TransPort room, my argument wasn't looking all that great.
When we got to the meeting room, I heard shouting coming from the other side of the door. Dart exchanged a look with me that could've meant “Listen carefully,” or “Don't speak unless spoken to.” I couldn't tell which one it really was, but I didn't want to make Dart uncomfortable too. He already seemed on edge from the TransPort. As he put his hand on the office door, I gave him a small nod to put him at ease. He let out a breath, knocked on the door twice and pushed it open.
“—I got pushed out of the zone through a car, Lieutenant!” a familiar voice shouted. “Anything could happen. She needs to be able to protect herself in case something like this happens again.”
“Oh, relax.” Dart said jokingly as he walked into the room. “It wouldn't be the first time you weren't much help in a car.” Through the door, I could see Lieutenant Hollister sitting at the far end of an oval-shaped table, leaning back in a chair with her fingers on her temple. A part of me wanted to turn around and not be a part of this conversation. But she looked up at me, and I quickly shuffled into the room. Scott was a couple seats down from her, but he wasn't sitting. He had his hands on the table, and looked pretty heated. I walked in as he was scowling at Dart, but he said nothing.
“Have a seat, Dart. I would appreciate your full attention.” Lieutenant Hollister gestured to the table in front of her. Dart pulled up a chair and sat down. Then he turned to Scott, trying to contain a grin on his face. “My apologies,” he said, “I forgot it was a nerve, Scott. It was only an attempt to lighten the mood.”
“Excellent attempt, Dart,” Scott responded sarcastically.
Dart held his hands up in defense. I looked over at the Lieutenant, who was quickly losing her patience. She rested her face in her hands for a minute to compose herself. Then she looked up at me.
“Lucy, please have a seat, unless you’d prefer to stand.” she said promptly. I gave my answer in the form of leaning against the wall next to the door. I instinctively shoved my hands into my pockets for good measure, but they slid down my legs. I was still in gym clothes. Great, now I was concussed and embarrassed. The Lieutenant gave me a strange look, but quickly waved it away. Good for me. I wasn't enjoying the attention much anyway. Maybe I should have sat down.
“Scott, please continue,” she directed. “What happened after you were ejected from the car?”
“I told you, I've got no idea. When I got launched from the car, I woke up back here.” Scott pulled the seat behind him closer, and sat down.
“That's a little weird,” Dart spoke up. “Depression Agents don't really have that kind of ability over their Zones.”
“What ability?” I asked from the back of the room. Scott swiveled his chair to face me.
“The ability to kick Officers out of the zone,” he answered. “It'd be like an inmate playing prison warden from inside their cell.”
“In that case,” the Lieutenant said, gesturing to me with her hand, “Lucy, can you recount the rest of the happening?” My heart skipped a beat. I just lived this. Now they wanted me to do it all over again. But part of me didn't want to back down to The Lieutenant. I cleared my throat and started. “Well, after that, I was able to get Justin to—”
“Justin's the Depression Agent, by the way.” Scott interrupted. I looked around the room for a reason behind him mentioning it, but I couldn't find one. “Why's that important?” I asked him
.
“That name was just an alias—a way to mask the piece of your depression he represented.” Scott said sympathetically. I wasn't sure if he was actually trying to be supportive, but it felt more like pity.
“He's right,” Dart chimed in. “According to my records, the Agent you just beat manifested from Lucy’s social anxiety disorder.” He swiveled back and forth in his chair smugly, like he'd just solved a Rubik's cube with his eyes closed.
“Right...” I said slowly. I really wanted to say I know, genius, I just lived through it…again. But the Lieutenant was rubbing her temples, which made it look like she was attempting to keep the remaining sanity she had from falling out.
So I tried to keep the ball rolling. Although, I really wished he didn't bring it up at that moment. It wasn’t much of a confidence booster to have your innermost struggles just brought out like light conversation. I couldn't keep my hands from shaking through the rest of the explanation.
Everyone was silent until I got to the part about Justin insulting my brother and the paint on my arm freaking out and attacking him.
“See?” Scott jabbed back into the conversation, “Her Handle was helpful. It saved her life!”
My Handle? Did he mean my paint?
“That might be true, Scott, but look,” Dart said, gesturing to my arm. “She doesn't have any more paint on her arms.” I looked down at my arm. Sure enough, all that was left was a faded smear of green paint.
“Dart's point is valid, Scott,” The Lieutenant said. “Besides, it's our focus to get Lucy through her zones. Not to have her go in on her own. The Handle's not needed.” Maybe I imagined it, but she sounded a bit shrill in her tone. Maybe she was just upset at this topic. But maybe there was more.
“She was alone in the very first zone!” Scott argued. “It's only going to get harder from here.” I thought about this getting harder. I could hardly handle Justin, and my seatbelt plan fell through. It all lined up with luck; the water bottle and the paint on my arm. Scott's argument was beginning to make sense. I couldn't do this alone.
“Scott,” The Lieutenant said, “I'm not sure you've recalibrated from being in that Depression Zone. How would we even get Lucy her Handle? She has no paints here.”
“Actually,” I spoke up from the back of the room. Everyone turned to look at me. At this point, I wanted to disappear. I tried to shrink into the wall as much as I could. Being the center of an argument that you couldn't participate in is some scary business. And I had to go and say something. I could feel the Lieutenant's gaze giving me chills. I fixed my eyes on the ground and continued.
“I have an art bag. But that Depression Agent from the hospital ripped it off of me when I jumped into the Dust to get here.”
Scott's face brightened a little. “I even know where to find—”
“Absolutely not,” The Lieutenant interrupted, cutting off Scott's excitement.
“In case you've forgotten, your insubordination for pulling that rescue mission on your own is grounds enough to decline your request. Also, between Lucy here and the other project we've been dealing with, I have no assets to spare.” Scott looked like he wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut. The Lieutenant must have been at her limit. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t said anything either.
“Speaking of which,” The Lieutenant continued, turning to face Dart. “When can we get into Lucy's next zone?” Dart bit down on his lip. “Uhm, because of the outdated realistic programming of the original TransPort, the impact force from the car crash shook it up a little too much.”
“Tell me in English please, Dart. No sugarcoating.”
Dart winced and let out a sharp breath. “The TransPort is broken.”
✽✽✽
“Broken?” The room was empty except for The Lieutenant's voice and the tension she was emanating. She leaned forward with her hands still folded on the table, deep in thought. I didn't know this woman all too well, but the look on her face said her patience was gone. I stood still; frozen in place and hoping she forgot I was there. I peeked over at Scott. His eyes were closed, but he clearly was on the same page.
“Now, before anyone freaks out,” Dart said in a reassuring voice. “I can fix it.” Another silence passed. The Lieutenant leaned back in her chair and exhaled slightly, and just like that, a little of the tension evaporated. I was fairly certain I wouldn't be blamed for breaking the TransPort. After all, I wasn't the one driving the car. But I still decided to stay frozen. The Lieutenant hadn't said anything to me yet. I liked it that way.
“How long will it take?” The Lieutenant asked.
“Not long,” Dart said quickly. “I've already diagnosed the machine. I know exactly where the problem is.”
“Then why are you so nervous?” Scott asked.
“Nervous? What are you talking about?” Dart answered nervously. Excellent liar, I thought.
The Lieutenant looked at Scott for a moment. Then she looked back at Dart, an eyebrow raised at him.
“Okay, listen. The TransPort is an antique. The part that's broken? We don't have a replacement here. Now, I have a way to get the piece. But I don't think it's the best idea.”
“We don't have time for the best idea, Dart. If there's a way to fix the TransPort, we need it now.” The Lieutenant said in a stern voice.
“Ahh...” Dart said in a shaky voice. He sounded discouraged. But The Lieutenant was right. We didn't have time for that.
“Dart, I need to save my sister.” I said, focused on him. If The Lieutenant was gonna get mad at me, I decided I didn't need to see it. “If you have a way to get us back on track, I need it. Chloe needs it.” Dart sighed and nodded once.
“I know a place that manufactures old TransPort model pieces.” he said, meeting eyes with Scott. I watched him give Dart a questioning look, and he answered with a nod.
“It’s how I've kept her functioning. But it's out in the Square.” he said sheepishly. His eyes were fixed on the table. I wanted to figure out what that silent conversation was between the two of them, but Scott looked lost in thought now.
The Lieutenant shook her head in disbelief. “Of course it is. Who am I going to spare to go out there?”
Scott quickly jumped out of his trance. “I actually know the place Dart's talking about. I could go.”
The Lieutenant's face said she was anything but for this idea. But before she could say anything, there was a knock and the door to the office pushed open. “Pardon my interruption, Lieutenant, but...” said a voice from outside the office.
“This meeting is crucial. How important is this interruption?” she asked loud enough for the person on the other side to hear.
“Um, well, very important, Lieutenant.” the voice stammered as it grew louder, entering the room.
It was the female officer from the big computer room. She stood with her feet touching one another, and folded her hands together. It made her look a little awkward, which could be excused with the Lieutenant’s cold gaze on her.
“Well?” The Lieutenant asked, sticking her neck out for more of an answer. At this point, I wanted to know what was so important too. My sister was running out of time with every minute. The broken TransPort was already taking enough time away.
“It's the agent we're tracking. They were sighted in De Mentoria.” she said.
“Really?” Scott stood up out of his seat and asked with urgency in his voice, “How recent was the sighting?” The Lieutenant looked at Scott disapprovingly. Scott glanced over and noticed and reluctantly sat down. Although, something in the Lieutenant's eyes made it clear she wanted to know too.
“Approximately 4 minutes ago.” the female officer answered. Scott's urgency was bubbling up inside of him. “He has to still be there—”
The Lieutenant raised her hand at Scott to silence him. Then she stood up slowly and composed herself.
“Officer Halsey,” she said in a strong Lieutenant-y voice, “Meet me in the Observation Deck.” Then she pointed a finger at
Scott and I.
“Scott, take the subway to the Square to get Dart's piece. Take Lucy with you. We need eyes on her at all times.” I glanced over at Dart, who was absent-mindedly looked around the room, probably waiting for his orders.
“Dart, I want you to escort them to the subway and then meet Halsey and I in the Deck.” Dart nodded and said nothing. His face said he didn't like the plan, but he got up out of his chair regardless.
The Lieutenant started to leave the office. Halsey backed out of the room and must have headed towards the Observation Deck, which I assumed was the computer room.
“Wait.” Scott got out of his chair and stood in between the Lieutenant and the door. “There's no point in repairing the TransPort if Lucy can't make it through her Zones.”
I wanted to be upset. I didn't want to believe Scott had that little faith in me. But part of me knew it was the paint that did all the work. I didn't even know what got it to leap off my arm like that. As far as I was concerned, I couldn't make it through. Not on my own.
“Then consider this mission your shot at redemption,” The Lieutenant said in a stern voice. “There won't be a use for the TransPort if you get Lucy compromised in The Dust. Plenty of Depression Agents would love to get their hands on a human like her.” She stepped around Scott and kept walking. She stopped in the doorway, and turned around.
“You've got two hours to handle this task, or I'll be sending out a task force to recall you onto Depression Force HQ. We can't afford any more slip-ups, Officer Langstrom.”
Then she left, her last words leaving a cold air in the room.
14. I Take A (Bumpy) Subway Ride To Ease The Nerves
As soon as the door closed behind Lieutenant Hollister, Dart folded his arms and looked at Scott angrily. “You're going anyway.” he said, in a matter-of-fact voice. Scott didn't answer, but the determined look on his face said enough. I could feel the tension was quickly starting to rise again, and I didn't want to stand around for that again.