Keystone

by Katie Delahanty

  “Of course,” I whispered.

  “You don’t need the umbrella here,” she said. “I know the owners—they’re Disconnect-friendly. This place is off the grid, so you can speak freely.”

  “No offense, but how do I know I can trust you?” I asked, lowering the umbrella as a flood of memories starring Adam and Deena flashed before me. “I want to, but right now I’m afraid to believe anyone.” Closing my eyes, I tried to erase them from my mind.

  “I understand. There’s probably nothing I can say to prove I have your best interests at heart, but I promise I used to be just like you, and all I want is to be your friend.”

  “I don’t think friends are possible.”

  The corners of her mouth turned down, and my heart ached for hurting her, but I didn’t trust my instincts anymore.

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but they are.” She sighed. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a weathered news article encased in plastic and slid it toward me. “Maybe this will help.”

  At first, I was taken by the picture of her in her younger days, posing on a red carpet, flashbulbs illuminated behind her. I scanned the headline.

  CRYSTAL HARRISON SHOCKER:

  I’M DISCONNECTING

  “It wasn’t my choice,” she said. “I was forced out. I got involved with the wrong people—there was an affair with a musician. I’m not proud of it. At the time, AI was just getting popular, people were becoming dependent upon it. My husband was a Corporate, and he was so scandalized by my infidelity he threatened to ruin my reputation. He had the power to make the world believe anything he wanted. He could change my backstory, turn me into a prostitute, a pornographer. His plan was to slowly poison people’s minds against me until they thought I was a virus. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but eventually people would start to believe. I didn’t want to go down that way—without my reputation, I was nothing—so I went out on my own terms.”

  “How could he turn the world against you, though? What about your fans? Wouldn’t they find the truth?”

  “Nobody has that much energy.” She shrugged. “People believe their Network feeds, everything their AI tells them. Truth is based on the collective opinion of an audience, not cold, hard facts. Majority rules. Even people who don’t blindly go along with the masses, who take time to research, can’t find correct information. Everything online has been tampered with. It’s all propaganda, legend. If you want the truth, you have to consult the original source, and that is becoming impossible to find. 3-D printers reprint artifacts so they can be in several places at once, but with each replication, the truth changes slightly. It’s the same with text. There are minute changes with every duplication until the truth is buried. No information is safe.”

  “So we’re all living a lie,” I said. At least I’m not alone in that.

  “He who holds the knowledge has the power to brainwash the masses. There’s a war going on, and most people don’t know it. It’s not between countries—it’s between corporations. They’re fighting to see who gets to control our minds, and they’ll stop at nothing.” Placing her hand over mine, she fastened her eyes on me. “The only thing we can trust is our memories. Never let anyone convince you your truth is wrong.”

  As I nodded, my thoughts turned to Adam. I don’t know what his truth is, but I’ll never forget…

  “The time for passive disconnection is gone,” she continued. “We have to take action before the Corporates gobble everything and everyone up.”

  “You make it sound like there’s going to be an uprising.”

  “Going to be? Oh honey, there already is.”

  Fear leaped into my throat, and my terror must have shown on my face.

  “Don’t worry.” Crystal laughed. “Change doesn’t come quickly or easily.”

  “But there’s got to be a way to protect information,” I said. “To live for something bigger than popularity.”

  “If you really want that, then there’s someone I want you to meet.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I think you have potential.” Lowering her gaze, she fingered her napkin. “Last night…you knew things…how?”

  Staring at her hand on mine, I considered. All of my secrets are gone—anyone who reads my book will know everything… She’s being honest with me. I believe that. It would be nice to have someone to talk to… I took a deep breath and met her eyes. “Instinct? I don’t know. It’s not the first time it’s happened—that I felt a change in the air or sensed someone’s presence the moment before they walked in the door—but it’s like a reflex. I can’t do it on command.”

  She didn’t register any emotion. She simply asked, “Do you know who took your book?”

  “No. It doesn’t work that way. I only get answers seconds in advance.”

  “Interesting. I wonder if you could learn…” She was talking more to herself than to me.

  “The only person who knew about it was Adam.” My voice cracked. “But he has an alibi. He was ‘live’ with Deena.” Tears bubbled to my eyes at the memory.

  Crystal scooted closer to me.

  “Ella,” she said. “I’m so sorry about Adam and Deena. I promise you, not everyone is like that. There are true people out there. A community of people that supports one another. They don’t care how influential you are. Real friends.” Crystal gestured to a woman in a black jumpsuit sitting at the bar, her red hair tucked under a wide-brimmed hat that obscured half of her face. “Can I introduce you to someone?”

  Wiping my eyes before the tears dared overflow, I nodded.

  “This is Professor Allard,” Crystal said, gesturing the woman over. “She’s a scientist and close friend of mine.”

  Allard sat, tilting her head to reveal a black-and-purple starburst exploding over one eye.

  Goose bumps erupted on my arms, every nerve in my body signaling run.

  “Crystal tells me you’re quite gifted,” she said, and her voice was like music.

  It cast a spell on me, and my breathing slowed.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said.

  “We’re coming to a time when gifts will be necessary. You’ll need more than influence to survive,” Allard said. “From what Crystal tells me, your particular skill is quite interesting. You’ll be better off than most, but to thrive, you’ll need to learn more.”

  “What’s coming?” I asked.

  “A war,” Crystal said.

  My stomach dropped. “But I’m not a fighter.”

  “We’ll all be called upon to fight,” Allard said, pressing her lips together. “Our minds are at stake. We all need to be warriors, to protect ourselves, to guard the ignorant.”

  “How do we do that?” I asked, my heart thumping in my ears.

  “We steal the truth.” Allard smiled.

  The pub swirled, but at the same time a shot of excitement shot through me, and my jaw dropped. “You want me to be a thief?”

  “You wouldn’t have to steal anything right away,” she said. “We would train you. And if what Crystal says is true, I think the skills would come easily to you.”

  “Would I have to disconnect?” I whispered. Would anyone miss me? Without Adam, there isn’t much left for me in L.A.…

  “Yes. My offer would require you to disconnect,” she confirmed.

  My pulse raced, my mind going a mile a minute. I couldn’t process the enormity of what she was suggesting. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” Crystal said. “But please hear her out.” She squeezed my hand.

  “There’s a place,” Allard said. “It’s called Keystone. Some believe its existence is legend, but I promise it’s real. It’s hidden among the trees, and the Disconnects there have been chosen to preserve history. We think you’d be a perfect addition to the campus.”

  I breathed in the offer and exhaled in a rush
. “Do I have to decide now? Leaving behind everything and everyone I know—forever—is a lot to consider.”

  “Take all the time you need, but know we’d be honored to have you.” Opening a silver cigarette case, Allard pulled out a square card. “This is my number. Call me when you’ve made your decision. And in the meantime, I trust you’ll speak of this to no one.” She stood.

  Reeling, I reread the simple block letters that spelled “Keystone” and the ten digits printed beneath them five times before they made any sense.

  When I looked up, Allard was gone. In her place, a single white daisy lay across the table.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  March 10, 20X5

  Truth: I can trust me.

  I lowered the umbrella inside the library. Crystal gave it to me as a parting gift. She’d completed her scenes and was no longer needed on set, so she was spending a few weeks with Allard, strategizing her comeback. I learned as much as I could about disconnecting before she left, but my mind changed daily about whether I’d go through with it. The one piece of information Crystal couldn’t give me was the meaning of the daisy. She told me it symbolized purity and innocence but the rest was up to me.

  Settling at a computer, I pulled up the Universal Library and typed “meaning of daisy” into the search box. I waited. And waited. And waited. It eventually came up with listings for purity and innocence, and I knew the internet wasn’t going to give me the answer.

  Disappearing into the deserted book stacks, I ran my fingers along the endless rows of spines, marveling at all the ideas—people’s thoughts, beliefs, truths—shelved and forgotten.

  “Well, well. Look who’s back.”

  “Johnathan.” Turning around, I smiled.

  “What can I help you with today?” he asked.

  I studied him, unsure if mentioning the daisy would clue him into Keystone.

  “If it’s something you need to keep secret, you can trust me,” he said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Are we?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Fine. We’re acquaintances. But we could be friends if you wanted.”

  “It’s that easy?”

  He looked at me like I’d just landed my UFO in the middle of the library. “Yeah.”

  He considers himself a Disconnect…and he can’t post to the Networks, so who could he really tell about me and Keystone, if he even connects me to Keystone in the first place? “Okay. Friends.” I nodded, deciding he was trustworthy. “But please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “I won’t tell a soul. Promise.” He linked his pinkie with mine, and we shook on it.

  “I’m looking for flower meanings,” I said. “For some reason the Universal Library is vague on the subject.”

  If he thought anything was odd about my request, he didn’t show it. Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head to the side. “That’s some sordid stuff, Ella, but I can help you out. What you need is the Old Farmer’s Almanac. Follow me.”

  He led me to the “gardening” section and started pulling out paperback books. “Do you want one from a particular year?”

  “Give me the oldest one you’ve got.”

  He studied the options until he found a yellowed book, its pages wrapped in plastic. “1870?”

  “That works.”

  Taking the brittle book, I sat down right there on the floor, gingerly opening it.

  “I’ll let you research in peace,” Johnathan said. “But don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

  “I won’t. Promise.” Mesmerized by the book—the weight of it, its finite pages—I slowly thumbed through it. “Johnathan? Are all Unrankables as nice as you? Or is it a southern thing?” I asked before he left.

  He laughed. “Probably a little of both, but Unrankables are usually pretty cool. You’re welcome here any time.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled.

  With a tiny wave, he left me to my book.

  I could have sat there all day and devoured the pages, but I flipped through until I found a description of birth flowers, and there was my answer, plain as day.

  The daisy represents purity, love, and innocence. Capable of disguise, it can be dyed any color. It is also a flower given between friends who want to keep a secret; the daisy’s message is “I’ll never tell.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  June 20, 20X5

  Truth: It doesn’t matter where you came from. It only matters where you’re going.

  My heels clacked against the marble entry in my parents’ Hollywood Hills estate. Sensing my presence, the chandelier lights slowly brightened. At first glance the house appeared empty, but then I heard Mom and Dad’s voices lilting up from the veranda.

  “What are we going to do with her? If the reviews aren’t good, we’re tanked,” Mom said.

  I froze at the top of the staircase that descended into the living room, straining to hear through the wall that was open to the deck.

  “We can pay someone. We can always pay someone. Or promise a favor,” Dad said.

  “Someday we might run out of favors. It’s getting hard to pull strings. In fact, I feel like the strings are winding around my wrists,” Mom said. “What about the others? They can’t be controlled forever. We’re lucky we’ve made it this long without the truth leaking.”

  “Quinn,” Dad said. “Can you calculate the probability that a strong box office will lift Ella’s rankings?”

  Quinn instantly replied, “Oh, Nick. I don’t know how to break this to you, but the calculations are clear. Nothing can save that girl. She’s not like you. She doesn’t have the charisma to pull herself out of this landslide. She’s poison.”

  Even the AI has turned on me.

  “Thank you, Quinn.” Dad fell silent, and then he said, so softly I could barely make out the words, “She’s not worth this stress. We’re better off without her.”

  “She’s served her purpose,” Mom agreed.

  Having my worst fears confirmed was like a knife to my gut. Clutching my stomach, I stared into space, his words pulsating through me, their meaning refusing to penetrate. They don’t want me. My whole life, all I ever wanted was to be theirs, but of course I wasn’t, not really. I tried so hard to be perfect. And I was. Until now.

  Hot tears trickling down my cheeks, I closed my eyes. Nobody wants me. First Adam, now them… My breath ragged, I sank to the floor. Hugging my knees to my chest, I let the tears flow. I’m so stupid—I don’t belong here. Maybe I’m better off dead. Whatever shreds of my heart were left disintegrated, melting away in waves of sickness and choked-back sobs until I was empty, lying in a broken ball.

  My mother’s voice drifted up, and my blood turned to ice.

  “She’s sixteen—going on seventeen—we’ve been parenting her for a long time. We’ve done our job, and I know I’ve had enough. I think it’s officially time to let her go. It will be a good lesson for her to have to make it on her own, to see what it’s like in the real world. She could stand to appreciate how hard we work for everything we have. And, you know, I think there are a lot of parents out there who will relate to having an ungrateful kid.”

  “You’re right,” Dad said. “This could be great for us if we spin it correctly. Now all we have to do is figure out how to get rid of her.”

  Sitting up, I buried the hurt and replaced it with anger. I wrapped my heart in armor so thick not even a bullet could penetrate it.

  That can be arranged.

  Up until that moment, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Disconnecting seemed like an exciting fantasy—a way to stick it to my parents—but deep down I didn’t think I’d go through with it. There was no way I was brave enough to give up everything I knew and start over in a strange place. I thought my screwup was a blip, something that would be forgiven, but I now realized I was holding on to an impossible hope that
things could go back to how they were––that I could still be their dream daughter.

  Maybe I was brave. And even if I wasn’t, I had to do something.

  Standing, I pointed my chin to the sky and marched downstairs.

  “Hi, honey,” Mom said, jumping up to hug me. “Welcome home. We missed you!”

  She squeezed me tight, and I stiffened, putting up with her phony embrace for half a second before wiggling away. The hills beyond the veranda were cast in misty blues and greens that day, and a tranquil breeze wafted over me, putting me on edge. They set the scene to manipulate my emotions, to keep me calm, but I held on to my anger.

  “How did it feel to be a movie star?” Dad asked, standing long enough to ruffle my hair and pull out a chair so I could join them.

  “You know how it feels to be a movie star,” I said, settling onto the edge of my seat. “It’s boring.”

  “Boring? We sent off a little girl and got back a teenager.” Mom laughed.

  “I was a teenager when I left,” I said. “Maybe I’m a grownup, now.”

  “Don’t grow up too fast,” Dad said. “An actress’s career is short-lived—stay young as long as you can.”

  I frowned.

  “Your father is joking, sweetheart. You’ve got plenty of good years ahead of you.”

  “No, he’s not.” I glared at them until they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  “Speaking of teenagers, we should talk about your birthday,” Mom changed the subject. “We already have tons of sponsors. It’s going to set you up perfectly. Between the party and the movie, your numbers will be fine.”

  “I don’t want a birthday party.”

  “But your friends are expecting a huge event!” Mom said.

  “What friends?” I spat the word. “I don’t have any friends. What happened to breaking ties with everyone at Intersection?”

  Mom kept talking like she hadn’t heard me. “It’s going to be spectacular—a party no one will miss—”