Point B (a teleportation love story)

by Drew Magary

  Bamert held his stomach, like he was a touch nauseous. “Ugh, this is awfully high up for my tastes. Now look down. I’m gonna keep looking up for my constitution but you two look at the water.”

  Anna leaned over the parapet and down at the cool moonlight glazing the river below. A tickling breeze troubled the water and the surface came alive, shimmering and pulsing and rippling to the banks.

  “You see the light?” Bamert asked her.

  “I do.”

  “Now, moonlight exists above and below the surface of that water, but the reflected light—the captured light—is what you see most clearly. Imagine the world you live in IS that light on the surface.”

  “This isn’t an accurate analogy at all,” said Burton.

  “Shut up, Burton. Anna, there are levels to the universe—membranes—above and below us that are invisible to the undressed eye. Think of our world as 2D and the universe as 3D. Porting, you see, is the act of diving into that water, swimming under the light on the surface, and popping back up somewhere new.”

  Burton butted in once more. “You’re making this far too simplistic.”

  “I really wish you drank alcohol. Anyway, faithful Anna, let’s say we all port by swimming a foot under the water, but the Harkness Wall has put a big ol’ barracuda there, with sharp fangs, and it’s hungry for man.”

  “Kirsch has a password to make the barracuda go away,” Anna said.

  “Maybe. Or who says we only need to swim a foot down? What if we swam two feet down?”

  “Or three!” said Anna.

  “Well if we go three feet down, a black hole condenses us down to a neutrino that’s a trillionth of a trillionth the size of a single atom, so let’s not. Now, Portsys’s network takes the biometrics mapped by your PortPhone, learns your spatial intent, and then opens up a beautiful little wormhole for you to step into. But Kirsch, wily ol’ coot that she is, may have access to another level, another ‘brane, that she can use that is not patrolled and renders the Firewall irrelevant. Her own private network.”

  “So then it’s a matter of finding it and busting into it. I can do that.”

  “Can you now?”

  “I once convinced my middle school principal over a dummy email address that I was his wife and that I was leaving him. Then he drove home midday to smooth things out and she really did leave him.”

  “That was funny right up until the part where you left him in ruins,” Bamert said.

  “He was a creep. The point is, I can find whatever password or dark network she uses.” She took in the now reservoir-still river and surrounding countryside. “I’m good at finding odd things.”

  “I believe you, Anna Huff.”

  “But what then?” asked Burton. “You’re here so that you don’t port, so that you’re safe from all the garbage out there. Anna, why come here at all if you just want to leave?”

  “I do wanna be here, but I’m also looking for someone,” Anna said.

  “Who?” Burton asked her.

  “Piss off, that’s who.”

  “I don’t know how you plan on finding them with that little helper wrapped around your leg.”

  Anna looked down at the transponder anklet. It was so inconspicuous—no thicker than a hair tie—that she had forgotten about it already. It freaked her out how easily she had adjusted to it being on her body.

  “You can trick it,” Anna said.

  “How?” Burton asked.

  “Well, in Bamert’s case, you could just strap it to a brisket.”

  “Oh, don’t talk to me about fine meats right now,” Bamert said. “They served pot roast in the dining hall tonight. Or, at least, it was supposedly pot roast. I’d have been better off eating my own belt.”

  “These anklets are garbage,” Anna explained. “They’re made by a company called Blackheel. The CEO scored a $500 million contract to make them for the U.S. prison system, and then he pocketed at least half for himself. They’re cheap and buggy.”

  “How do you know all that?” Burton said.

  “From that dude Erick Martin’s feed.”

  “He’s batshit.”

  “Everyone is batshit,” Anna said. “You just have to have good radar for when they occasionally make sense. You can trick this anklet somehow.”

  “You’d have to match it with something that had your exact same biometrics,” said Burton. “Heart rate, blood temp, everything. You’re not that clever.”

  “No?” Anna gave Burton the same look she gave Brendan McClear.

  Bamert whistled. “Goodness me, Burton. Don’t test this girl.”

  Burton was unfazed. “You can’t fake anatomy.”

  “Ah, but it’s heavenly to think about figuring it out somehow, isn’t it?” Bamert asked. He took a long drag from his hip flask. The whiskey dribbled into his considerable beard and he lapped at the runoff like a retriever.

  "Do you always drink this much?" Anna asked him.

  “He does,” Burton said.

  "Why?" she asked.

  Bamert smiled. Anna Huff was not the only kid at Druskin with a rehearsed reply on hand for pointed lines of inquiry. "My father, who has all the warmth and charm of a dead snake, sent me to Deerbrook for middle school, deep in rural Massachusetts. Awful state, even worse than this one. Terrible food. And when one of the eighth graders there gave me a beer, it was an epiphany to me. I fucking hated that school. But the beer made there feel like not there. That was a wonderful trick to me.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that you’d be better off actually uncovering and addressing the real sources of your unhappiness instead of drinking?” she asked him.

  “Maybe,” he said, rubbing his thumb over and over across the silver coat of arms on the flask. “Or maybe there's a black curtain around me. Maybe there's this darkness so thick you could reach out and tug on it. You ever feel that curtain go in front of your eyes?"

  “Every day,” Anna said.

  “Ah well then, I guess you know how hard it is to get rid of. This tastes better than therapy.”

  “You’ll get booted.”

  “My darling Anna, that’ll never happen.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “He thinks he’s bulletproof here because his family is loaded.” Burton said.

  Bamert nodded. “What he said.”

  “But he’s wrong.”

  “You can shut up again now, Burton.”

  Just then, they heard giggling. Anna turned and saw a whip of black hair in the moonlight. It was Lara, in a loose paisley minidress with just the right amount of flow and bounce to it, cinched with a thick brown leather belt. She had the girl from Sewell—Anna’s freshly minted nemesis—with her. Bamert, ever the gentleman, knew when to take his cue.

  “Well now Burton, I think it’s time for us to retire for the evening.”

  “Speak for yourself. I have a million things to do. I have to attend a pre-band meeting, record the Tri-Nation cricket test, fix three out of the four computer monitors I brought with me, walk Mr. DeMarco’s dog—”

  “Oooh, is it a bulldog?” Anna asked, suddenly excited.

  “No.”

  “You know, I’d ask how you ended up needing to do all those things,” said Bamert, “but then I’d have to refill this flask.”

  “You will anyway because you’re a big alkie.”

  “I am an enthusiast. Let’s go. This bridge is making me queasy. I don’t like heights over water. Let’s leave Anna Huff to more genteel company.”

  “Oh!” said Burton, “Is this girl coming now the girl Anna’s into?”

  “Shut it,” Anna hissed at him. Goddamn those two.

  “What?” asked Burton.

  Anna gave Burton The Look. “Funny how rumors about girls always spread faster than rumors about boys.”

  Bamert stepped in between them to cool off the tension. “I assure you, my dear, that Burton is too distracted by his own idiotic musings to compromise you on this.” He gave her a reassuring pat on t
he shoulder and whispered in her ear. He smelled like witch hazel. “Good luck. Make sure that when you pursue her, you pursue her with ethics.”

  “What on Earth does that mean?”

  But Bamert didn’t bother to elaborate. The two boys walked past Lara and her friend on their way back to campus. Bamert mimed tipping a cap to them, but they either didn’t notice or didn’t care. When Lara saw Anna, her giggles got even louder.

  You’re weird. She thinks you’re weird. She and that girl were somewhere talking in private about how weird you are.

  They moseyed onto the bridge, both stoned. Lara threw her arms around Anna and squeezed her tight and now Anna could smell her: all fresh cotton and sweet shampoo. She could have buried her face in Lara’s neck and made a little home there, but it was too soon. Everything about today felt too soon. It was like she had ported directly into her own future.

  “ROOMIE!” Lara cried.

  “Oh right, this is your roommate!” the other girl said. Her wrists her bare. Lara hadn’t given her one of her bracelets. Only you were worthy of the bracelet. Only you were worthy of Lily Beach.

  “I’m Anna,” Anna said to the girl, flat and cold.

  “I’m Jubilee.”

  “You are not.”

  Jubilee laughed. “You’re lucky Lara let me hit that vape because normally I get all pissy when people joke about my name.”

  “If you’re not pissy about it right now, then I can joke about it more.”

  Jubilee gasped. “Where did you find this girl?” she asked Lara.

  “Roomie’s cool,” Lara said. “Roomie’ll talk shit to anyone, even Emilia. Isn’t that right?”

  “It’s all I’ve got,” Anna said.

  “You got a bathing suit, too?” Lara asked, gesturing over the parapet. The moon-slicked river beckoned. Rumor was you could only jump off one side of the bridge because the school used the opposite side for illegal dumping: old tackling sleds, ripped-out bleachers, etc. Anna looked down at the water and thought about all of the potential, dangerous wreckage waiting just beneath the glimmering surface. She pictured herself stupidly impaling herself on a javelin, the entire student body rushing to the bridge the next morning to gawk at a grisly Anna-kebab. The Low Water warning sign cultivated an additional, alternate shade of fear.

  “We gotta jump,” Jubilee said. Jubilee was not interested in negotiating this. She stripped down to her sports bra and underwear and leapt up onto the stone parapet, positively bouncing with excitement. She didn’t even wait for Lara and Anna to follow suit. Then she cried out “BITCHES!!!” and leaped over. Anna rushed to look, secretly hoping Jubilee had broken her leg on an old lacrosse goal. But no, Jubilee splashed down into the silvery water and screamed with laughter.

  “Omigod COLD!”

  Lara smiled at Anna. “I guess we have no choice.”

  Lara stripped down to her underwear. Now Anna knew she’d have to jump into that river, if only to cool off the rest of her own body. She kicked out of her mary janes and pulled off her jeans, but made an executive decision to leave her shirt on for the jump. Then she got up on the parapet with Lara and locked eyes with her as Jubilee cavorted down below. In the distance, another petal-soft breeze had the treetops exchanging high fives.

  “It’s nice out here, isn’t it?” Lara asked Anna.

  “Yeah. I like it. I mean, I’m sure it’s no Lily Beach.”

  “You’re gonna love it when I take you there.” When, not if.

  “I know I will,” Anna said back. “Better than going to assembly.”

  “True.”

  “But it’s definitely pleasant around here. Almost too pleasant.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “I like that it’s dark out here, though. I always liked the dark parts of places.”

  “Me too. Who were those two boys you were with?” Lara asked her.

  “Bamert and Burton. They’re just friends.”

  “That’s what boys are best left as. What were you guys talking about?”

  “How to break out of here,” said Anna, matter-of-factly.

  Lara’s green eyes swelled. “Ooh, I want in. I wanna break out, too.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah,” said Lara. “Let’s do it. Let’s be everywhere. Lucerne, Buenos Aires, Lily Beach.”

  “The Seychelles,” said Anna.

  “Hokkaido!” said Lara.

  “Berlin!” said Anna.

  “Amsterdam!” said Lara.

  “Wichita!” said Anna. Lara busted out laughing at that one. She’s flirting with you. She likes you.

  “You’re weird, Anna Huff.”

  Or not. Flirting time was over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be weird.”

  “No, it’s cool. Everyone’s weird.” She took Anna’s hand and their bracelets clanked together. No one, outside of relatives and teachers, had taken Anna’s hand before. This was a first for her. Hands. Hands, then lips. Hands, then lips, then bodies. She was detonating inside: a romantic neophyte desperate for the ability to tell if vibes were vibes. She wanted to touch Lara more than she was already touching her.

  “Weird is good,” Lara assured her. “You’re good. I like you, Anna. There’s something true about you. We’ll be okay here, I promise.”

  “You do?”

  “They can tell us what to do, but that doesn’t mean we have to listen. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Life is about getting away with everything you can get away with. We’ll get away with it all. We’ll show them how punk it is to be happy. We’ll bust out of here and then we’ll go everywhere the shitty people aren’t, and they won’t ever be able to find us. Will you come? Will you come with me?”

  I mean, breaking out was your idea first but… “I will.”

  “Look up for a second,” Lara told her. The stars were out and giddy. She pointed to the brightest dot halfway between them and the horizon. “That’s Jupiter, right there.”

  “We can’t port to Jupiter.”

  “No, not yet,” Lara laughed. “But maybe one day. Sometimes I think about how enormous it is, how enormous everything is, and I can’t stand it. You know Jupiter made us?”

  “Made us?”

  “I read all about it. I’m smart. Don’t tell Emilia. That would just fucking ruin it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I like books about UFOs. I like to read all the cool shit they never assign. Jupiter’s got this electromagnetism, see. Kept all the bad shit away when we were just a baby planet. But it’s got a lot of gravity, too. All of the gravity. So one day, it’ll crash into the sun and bring us along with it. And then what made us will break us.”

  “That’s pretty dark.”

  “It is.” She leaned into Anna and whispered, “But for now, we’re here. And we’ve got a little gravity of our own.” Her lips were close to Anna’s ear, her breath sweetly cradling it. Anna scrambled to cut the anticipation. To fill dead air.

  But Jubilee did the job for Anna by screaming, “GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE!”

  “Are you ready to jump?” Lara asked.

  “I’m gonna jump on that girl’s head,” Anna said.

  “Don’t do that. Big breath!”

  Lara jumped a split second before Anna did. They had to release hands in midair to keep from ripping each other’s shoulders out. Anna boomed down into the frigid water and felt for the bottom. The low water sign had been a lie: a fruitless deterrent. Seven feet down, she grabbed a fistful of muck. Not sand. Just dead, fetid crap. She shook her hand clean and frog-kicked an extra ten yards along the decaying riverbed.

  When she resurfaced, there was a bright light. Not the moon. No, this was something more pointed. Almost like…

  A flashlight. Oh crap.

  Lara and Jubilee were already sprinting out of the water and grabbing for their clothes and shoes.

  “Anna, run!” her roommate cried.

  Anna swam for the banks as the other two ran from the growing, ac
cusing light. No time for her to grab her shoes or her shirt.

  “Hey, you three!” cried a voice. Male. Dopey.

  Anna was not in any condition to break into a sprint at the moment. She was sopping wet and already worn out from the dreaded Sewell stairwell. She could swim. She could dive (in fact, she was hoping to dazzle Lara with a back tuck off the bridge). But she hated running. A mess of overgrowth along the banks nipped at her ankles as she fled from the bridge. She scampered across the playing fields only to be tripped up by a divot housing an in-ground sprinkler. Her ankle collapsed. By the time she was back up and hobbling away, the security guard was closing in.

  “Freeze right there!”

  Lara and Jubilee were now fifty yards ahead of Anna. They were gonna escape, but she was fading. Her ankle felt like it was made of gravel. Every step she took was like a knife to her lower leg. The light grew brighter behind her, her lumbering shadow growing more pronounced in the fields, until she could sense the security guard within striking distance.

  “Stop!”

  She did as she was told.

  JEREMIAH GOREN HALL

  Dean Vick’s office was easily twice the size of any anodyne ShareSpace that Anna and her mother routinely split out in the free zones. There was a chandelier dangling from the ceiling that looked like it hadn’t been dusted in eight decades. In the center of the room was a large round table haphazardly littered with stacks of books: books that Anna presumed were put there for show. Behind the table was an equally massive desk. Behind the desk was a wall of degrees. Anna also spotted a framed, decades-old photo of the extended Vick family. No one was smiling in it. The only thing in the office that offered a hint of personality was a tiny figurine on Vick’s desk of a bulldog made out of crushed pecan shells and lacquered a deep brown. Anna was dying to steal it.

  Vick, clad in jeans and a light blue polo, was waiting for her at the table. She hadn’t even stepped foot in a classroom yet before being sent to the dean’s office.