CHiP
Aviva Bel’Harold
Copyright 2010 Orange Monkey Publishing Ltd
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook my not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or is was not purchased for your use only then please return to Smashwords.come and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to my sister, Tami, for her ‘pestering’ me to write about something she’d really enjoy, and her unyielding belief in my ability to do a good job with it.
.....Enjoy sis!
CHiP
Chapter One: Prologue—Tia
“The first time I saw a super human was during the 2044 Summer Olympics.”
The weekend had been like any other. Pen’s folks had gone away again, and she’d invited a few of her best friends over to hang. I let Austin drive me, because tonight I wanted to get tipsy—at the very least. Austin, or Az as I affectionately called him, wasn’t just the truest friend anyone could ask for, he was also my safety net. He’d be sure to get me home and let nothing bad happen; he’d even protect me from myself. It was Saturday, so we could stay all night; I’d told my father that I was sleeping over at a friend’s. But by 1:00 am, most of the guests had cleared out—wimps.
Pen was cleaning with Miko. I had tried to help but was ordered away, so I was sitting with Az at the kitchen table. Loora sat with us, along with a few of the other guests that didn’t know when their welcome had been worn out.
“The Olympics?” Daniel stared at me. I think he was a little further gone than I felt. He smiled, his dry lips looking in danger of cracking. “You watch the Olympics?”
“I did.” My voice was quieter as I tried to suppress the emotions that went with that simple statement.
Austin gazed at me with worry, but asked casually, “So, who was the super human?”
I smiled, touched by his concern, and avoided the look in his eyes by answering, “Reginald Doe.”
“You think he was ‘super’ human? I thought he was just a talented human.”
“Oh, come on. Every event he competed in, he took home the gold!”
“I heard there was quite a bit of debate surrounding that,” Daniel put in.
“Yes, there was…” I nodded, feeling my equilibrium wobble with the movement—maybe the last drink hadn’t been such a good idea. I checked Austin in my peripheral vision, which was hard to do, being this drunk, but I knew if I needed him, he’d have my back. I continued talking, trying to act normal. “First, he was a late entry. A complete unknown—a nobody who took the place of the former gold medallist that had died just months before the games opened.”
Daniel added, “Didn’t his trainer say he stumbled across Reginald at his local gym?”
Again I nodded, forgetting how it threw me off balance. “That’s right, his trainer: J.R. Edgewater—he claimed it was a certified miracle!”
“But Reginald underwent extensive drug and enhancement testing. He was clean,” Austin argued.
“Clean as far as they knew.” I paused for dramatic emphasis, or perhaps to regain my train of thought… “But Edgewater pulled every string he had to get Reginald into the games. And on top of that, Reginald was allowed to compete in more events than any one participant has ever been allowed to enter before.”
“Still doesn’t prove he was ‘super’ human,” Austin objected.
I crossed my arms. “He won, didn’t he? He was in thirty-eight out of the forty-six events for athletics, and he took home gold for every one. That’s thirty-eight wins—that’s got to be super human.”
I might have felt more smug if I didn’t need to lean so heavily on the back of the chair to keep myself upright.
“But that still doesn’t prove… ”
I cut Austin off. “Reginald Doe was named Athlete of the Year… ”
“Of the millennia, really,” Daniel interjected.
“That’s right…” I nodded yet again and had to pause while the room stopped spinning. “But then he disappeared!”
“Didn’t his manager demand a worldwide search that came up empty?” Daniel was enjoying the conversation; he’d moved his chair closer to me. His unblinking gaze unnerved me.
I looked on my other side toward Austin. “It doesn’t make sense any other way… Reginald refused to sign contracts with companies like Nike and Kellogg’s, though he was being pursued by all the top name brands to sell their products. He could have been a billionaire eight times over. Instead, he did one teensy TV interview for some small budget news company and then became a recluse. He lived at some obscure address where people would see him come and go for a few months—then poof, he was gone.”
“But that still doesn’t make him a ‘super’ human.” Austin stared me down.
I shrugged. “You think what you want—I’ll think what I do.”
Az smiled. “Do you think it’s time to go home?” His eyebrow rose as if in challenge.
“Probably,” I admitted. The last drink I’d had was still setting in, and if I didn’t leave soon, I wouldn’t be able to walk without assistance. Then I’d have to stay the night, which was something I was trying to avoid.
Miko escorted me to Austin’s car. “You sure you can get her home, Austin?”
“Don’t worry Miko. I’ve got it covered.” Az flashed his winning smile. Really, he had become quite the hottie now that he’d let his blond hair grow back—it suited his baby blue eyes better—but sometimes I missed the more dangerous-sounding him. In the past, he wouldn’t have been so mild mannered with Miko. Probably better this way—no more write-ups or disciplinary school for my friend.
Miko still seemed troubled. “What if she needs a hand getting into her house? You can’t carry her without breaking the law.”
Austin’s smile stayed in place. “Technically I can, if it’s for medical purposes…but don’t worry, I won’t cross any boundaries.”
“You gonna get her sister to help then? Samara might blab about Tia being drunk. Her sister can be a bit of a tattle tale,” Miko persisted.
“You worry too much, Miko. It’ll be fine,” Az said as he started up his hover car.
Miko looked at me. “You sure you don’t want to sleep over here? I know Pen wouldn’t mind, she’s got an extra sofa. It could be like a slumber party.” I could see the hope in her soft brown eyes.
“Na,” I said, shaking my head—then I had to swallow down the queasiness. “I’ve got something to do tomorrow…I mean later today.” I stifled the foolish giggle I felt slipping up my throat. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
She agreed and stepped away from the car so that Austin could take off. I closed my eyes.
The car slowed as Az pulled into our building’s garage after what felt like only a few minutes, but Austin left the motor running, so the buckle was still locked.
“T?” I looked over to see his eyes boring into me. “We’re alone now. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
I opened my mouth and burped, then hiccupped.
He continued to stare.
Slowly, the feeling I had been trying to keep down all night crept over me. “I remember 2044 for a different reason.”
He popped the car into park and slid over the seat next to me. He gathered me into his arms as the first of the tears started to slide down my cheeks.
“I miss my mom,” I moaned.
I felt him nod and place a kiss on the top of my head.
“I was only fourteen.” My words came out in that strange staccato way they do when you are crying so hard that you can barely breathe.
“It wasn’t fair,” Az agreed.
That’s what I liked about him; he didn’t try to convince me that I was lucky to have survived at one in a thousand odds; he didn’t point out all the cool things I could do now that the disease had altered me; and he didn’t tell me that today was supposed to be a joyful day.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” he whispered into my hair.
I wasn’t worried—I never worried when I was with Austin.
I cried, like I did every year, and he held me, like he had from the moment I’d gotten home from the hospital. Breaking all the rules, just like he always did, and risking a return to that horrid disciplinary school, all for the sake of me. He was the best friend I could ever ask for.
As the tears ran out, he added, “Happy birthday, T.”
I didn’t feel like going home—Father wasn’t expecting me until Sunday afternoon anyway. I let Az carry me to his house, and it was only after he’d placed me on his bed that I opened my eyes—yup, that last drink had been a very big mistake. A mistake I’d now made three years in a row. Austin brought me water and a bucket for ‘just in case.’ I shuddered at the thought, but this year I was luckier than the two previous.
“Talk to me,” I begged as he sat next to me and rubbed my back.
“What about.”
“Anything.”
“How ’bout Daniel.”
I groaned.
“Tia, he still likes you.”
“And… ” My body had stiffened against Az’s hand. It had been two years since we’d had a dating contract—one of my bigger regrets.
“And nothing.” I heard the smile in his voice.
“What about Loora? She likes you, you know.” I turned a little to look at him but shut my eyes against the spinning room.
“I noticed.” I could hear the displeasure in his voice.
“So? What’s wrong with her?”
He took a moment of deliberation. “She’s got too many piercings.”
“Two eyebrow rings isn’t much.”
“Don’t forget the one above her lip. So three, but you know me, T; I don’t go for girls with that look.”
I sighed. “I guess it is a little turn of the century—I’ve heard that look might be coming back.”
Az scoffed. “You’d think everyone would think twice about it. I mean, all you have to do is visit your grandparents to see the effects of the tattoos and piercings in your sixties,” he made a disgusted sound. “That’s a good enough reason not to repeat the silliness.”
He made me laugh. Then silence set in. I opened my eyes and looked up into his face. “But how come you haven’t dated anyone?”
He shrugged.
“You know Loora isn’t the only girl who’s interested in you.”
“No one meets my high standards.” He brushed back my hair.
“Well she’s out there, waiting.” I smiled and closed my eyes.
“Sweet dreams,” he whispered softly.
I wished they had been, and after a Saturday like that, I didn’t expect anything good to come of the Sunday that followed.
Chapter Two: Prologue—Teig
Personal Log: May 2047
I am good at my job. The best. I should be…I’ve been doing it for almost a decade, that’s longer than most. They used to say it was because I was the boss’s son. That wasn’t it at all! No. No one understands how hard it is to be the boss’s son. My secret is simple: no attachments—no complications. It is just a job, best to get in and get it done. It makes it easier to move on…and we are always moving on. It makes it easier to stay detached when things don’t go well. No matter how much ARM claims that they are reducing the risks, they still don’t have good odds. I don’t know, maybe I’m getting soft? Maybe I’m getting soft…eight years of no attachments is a long and lonely existence.
I did try the alternative, and that wasn’t any better. I had thought it worked when I was younger, naïve, and idealistic. When I believed that what I was doing was for the better good. The good of us all. It was my parents’ dream, their vision, and I would have followed and trusted in them until the end of time. I was completely blind. Stupid. Then it all changed. Can’t go back…no matter how hard I wish it. What happens now that I’m not so sure of this whole program? This is where having my mother as my boss makes my life harder. What if I don’t believe her words: “Son, everyone knows, to be a good chef you have to break a few eggs. No one cries over the eggs when they are enjoying the cake.”
Too bad one of the eggs had to be my father. True to her character, Mom never faltered in her belief about what we were doing—of the cake we were creating. She spoke at his funeral like he was a veteran of war. Decorated, celebrated for his sacrifice to the project. Yet his sacrifice would never be known to anyone but those of us in the project. That was the worst—his sacrifice was considered such a great act by my mother, to those in the project, to the whole stinking company. So if it was so great, how come no one could talk about it?
That’s when I had a crisis of faith. Because that’s what it had become, my faith—no, my religion. My cult. I had been brainwashed to believe in it. Losing my father helped me to discover that, and after that I wasn’t so sure of it. My true feelings didn’t mirror my mother’s perfect vision. But what good did recognizing it do? I couldn’t go back—now I hated what I had to do.
It didn’t matter, though, they wouldn’t let me stop. I couldn’t get out. I was in, in for life, maybe longer? I didn’t have anyone whom I could confide in. My mother was the boss. My only friends were all stuck in it too. There was no one left for me. Nothing I could do. And everyone riding my ass about being the boss’s son, like that somehow made my life easier… Doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t have mattered even if I had an army of family or friends outside. I was in, and once someone was in, the only way out was in a body bag.
So, I did my job and stopped thinking as much as my brain would allow me. No attachments—no complications… Not as easy as I try to make it. The heart gets involved. The brain, my brain, can’t overlook those things I try to make it. All the eggs that break in the process; eggs I broke by doing my job. I did have the lowest mortality rate—I wasn’t so quick to pick my candidates. I always did my homework. I tried. I try. I continue to try harder with each…
Saturday, May 18, 2047
I got my new assignment this morning. Barely back from the last—one day home. Now I have orders for Monday, two days away. I’m getting too old to keep doing this…and I had made plans for this Sunday! Cancelled, of course, by ARM, how I despised my life!
Clay Winston High School, I remember the first time I worked it, seems like another life time. Of course, I have worked it twice now. It seems odd that they put me back there so soon. I thought I’d have another year before they sent me there again. I wonder how much it has changed since I was last there. I don’t expect much—school buildings don’t usually change in three years. But I’ve changed, so much I hardly recognized myself anymore.
I looked at my face in the mirror, still foreign to me. Too young, too perfect for my life; I ought to have wrinkle lines from the permanent scowl I wore. But I had to look appealing, since it made my job easier. If I looked like a brooding, crotchety old man, I’d never make it onto the school grounds. I hated this face! It didn’t respond the way it should. I tried to frown, yup, there it was, another way to control me. The layer of fat above my brows had been thickened to smooth out my worry lines, giving my forehead more texture and making my eyes look like they were set deeper into my skull. My top lip was pulled back further now, making my pale lips more pronounced, paler and thinner than they used to be, before this all started.
I had taught myself not to notice my eyes, even though they noticed everything now. I still hated those unnatural irises.
My cheeks looked like someone had chiselled away all my fat…that was almost the truth of what had been done. They had taken the original shape, and any defining blubber I had left, and sucked it right away. It felt like they’d sucked out all the innocence I had left. I missed the fat. Now my cheeks always felt cold. They also felt brittle and breakable.
At least I had my original hair back. I had to go too long without my natural curls and was glad that the twittery teen-driven fashion industry had decided that they were back in style. I got to have black hair, because my profile said I hadn’t been seen in it for long enough. Another reason to be happier—at least I didn’t have to go through the monthly regimen of bleaching it. The smell made me choke and gag.
I dreaded to think of what they’d change once I was done with this assignment.
Trying to hold onto my sanity, I reminded myself that I was due for a vacation…that was if nothing got in the way. I mean, what were the chances of another disaster happening that they needed my help for? It had been three years in a row. Mom promised I’d get my holiday this time. I didn’t put any stock in Mom’s promises, but I had to hope…I was already going a little crazy.
I thumbed through the chart. Clay Winston High had a student body of 11,737. With that kind of attendance, I should be done in four months. Counting holidays, it should take me to the end of September, mid-October at the latest. I was glad they had switched all schools to the yearlong calendar; it made my job easier.
Then my vacation—three months off. That was my driving force now. A vacation by the ocean, I’d decided. Somewhere that was warm and sunny and had room service, maids and staff to wait on my every want…and it would be warm. My cheeks would appreciate that. I kept posters tacked up all around my room. I had a screen saver with tropical paradise on it. I could do this. I could do this, then get my long-deserved vacation.
I took a deep breath. Being home sucked. Seeing my mom was even worse. How I hated her face. How I envied her that she got to keep it.
I had enjoyed my last two years overseas. It had happened so suddenly…yes, I was finished my last assignment, and all my recruits had passed the initiation. Whoever doubted my skill would have to eat their words again. But I had thought I had one or two more years in those other districts. The call had come late on Wednesday night; I was on the plane Thursday.
That had been another of the downsides of getting ordered home so quickly—being put on the same flight as my recruits. It hadn’t helped with my motto: no attachments… I never remembered their names. I didn’t like to recall them by their chart numbers. It was a bigger truth that I didn’t want to be a part of. I only called them by the number they represented to me. Two hundred and thirty-three. That was her number. Once I found her, I had now condemned two hundred and thirty-three kids to a life in the company.
She had spent the whole flight jabbering my ear off, she was so excited. I shook my head, trying to wash away the memory of her: her sweet voice; her hazel eyes, scared (though she was trying to hide it); her wavy brown hair bouncing around her face as she nodded vigorously. I’d been the one who found her. I’d convinced not only her, but her whole family, a mother and father…and a little brother—they would all miss her. I’d pretended to be her friend. Just doing my job.
The message of her failure flashed bright across the screen. No matter how many times I saw these announcements, I still mourned. That she had been my pick made the pain cut deeper. They hailed her a brave soldier lost in the battle that we waged to better our world. I just kept thinking about her face: round, kind, trusting… I shook my head again. I could hear my mother’s greetings as we deplaned in our own private hanger.
It was appropriate that she stayed businesslike, no matter what the circumstance. I was one of the first off, and she met me at the tarmac, barely giving a nod. “Teigan,” she’d said. I could have been any one of her employees. That I was her son, that we shared DNA, meant nothing to her. It was loyalty that mattered most. I was her least loyal, and she made it clear that she knew this. Maybe it was my relationship with her that kept her from pulling the plug on me. Some days I wished she’d just do it and get this wretched life over with.
She turned to the volunteers then and addressed them, giving her cheery introduction to the program and a rundown of what to expect over the next few months. I tried not to notice that they’d brought home one hundred and eighteen. I tried not to realize that I’d personally discovered the most out of the eleven other recruiters on this mission. Tried but failed. I also tried not to see that over two thirds were girls. Young girls who were giving up their lives for our cause, promises that they’d eventually discover to be false. Eventually—but not today. Today every face was filled with hope and excitement, the thrill of being discovered.
I ducked out. I’d heard it all before. I’d said most of it myself at one time or other. Besides, it was all lies anyway. I knew their lives would be nothing but pain until they’d adjusted. Perhaps not as severe as my own. I’d been told that part had improved, but painful nonetheless. That would be if they didn’t die first. I gave a shudder, slamming my laptop shut.
Tomorrow I’d be moving out of the bunker—that was good. I really hated being so close to the project. That was the nice thing about this job. At least for a few moments each day, I could pretend I was normal, just pretend. There was absolutely nothing normal about me.
Sunday, May 19, 2047
Mom arrived at my door 0900, just as the last memo had said she would. She rapped twice, an abrasive noise, then walked in. She took a moment to let her eyes rove over my bare walls (my inspiration, my photos, were already packed away).
She raised one eyebrow. “Ready?”
I picked up my suitcase then walked out without a backwards glance.
“You really do good.”
I turned back to see my mother looking over the room. I knew she was seeing how spotless I’d left it. Perfect. Nothing to give away the fact that I’d existed there. “Well, I was taught by the best.”
She smiled, her dark, perfect lips pulling back like mine did, even if the color and thickness no longer matched.
There was a time I would have asked why she was giving me a personal escort. Now I just kept my mouth shut. She’d get to it when she was ready. So the ride was quiet, the limo coasting along without any interruptions from toll booths or local law enforcement. Without any outward signs, everyone just knew we were above reproach.
I could see the tall buildings of the city in the distance. Mother kept her gaze out the opposite window, but I could see her in the reflection on the tinted glass. The ride was ninety minutes one way. Wow, this must be important for Mother to take three hours out of her busy day.
“Son,” she finally spoke as we fell under the shadows of the buildings.
I fixed her with my stare.
“Do me proud,” she said, then turned away.
I nodded. She was watching me in her window’s reflection.
I got out at Felton Place and made my way into the building. The doorman opened the door, bowing low. He’d been expecting me. I didn’t like the look of him; his eyes kept shifting, darting to the limo I had departed from and trying to peer into it for a glimpse at the other occupants. Then he smiled, revealing teeth stained at their edges. His roots were dying—they’d fall out before he reached forty. I forced a smile and kept walking.
With my suitcase held firmly in my left hand, I waited as I stood in front of the door numbered six seventeen. Hearing noises on the other side, I tacked my false smile back onto my face.
“Teig, my man!” Chan stood where the door had been. “So glad you could make it!” He pulled me into a genuine hug.
For a second I didn’t have to force my smile.
Chan was my friend, if I could claim I had any. He was my guy. We’d been on the same recruiting cycle for over five years, ever since he’d started. I had taught him, but in many ways he now surpassed me. I liked working with him, it felt comfortable.
“I thought for sure, when they’d pulled you off Tokyo, you’d be gone for good,” I said, pulling back to look at his face.
“You and me both.” Chan reached out and took my suitcase. I followed him in. “We’ve got half the floor here. The other half is being reno’d, so it should be a quiet stay. Of course this facility is the best money can buy. Comes with maid service, indoor pool with a gym and a fully staffed kitchen that delivers. I’ve also pulled up all the local clubs and best restaurants—I even got brochures for when we are in the mood to eat junk. Did you know they’ve got one of the last Golden Griddle dives left in the entire world!”
Chan was the kind of guy who liked his job. He made sure he had a good time, no matter where he was sent and what he was ordered to do. Chan always found a way to have fun, though sometimes his kind of fun was too much for ARM to ignore. He’d been pulled off our last gig two months before its completion; I was then given the double task of finishing and cleaning up his mess. I knew his punishment would have been painful, but I could also imagine he took it smiling.
I had followed him to a hall past the main living area, which consisted of an open kitchen, dining space and a spacious entertaining room. The walls were painted in a brown tone (the color of a latte), but with the large, south-facing windows, the dark walls kept the whole place from looking too bright.
Down the hall were four doors. He pointed to the first on the right and said, “That one’s mine.” Of course, he’d take the closest. I didn’t really mind.
“Trust me, I’ve already moved in.” I knew what he meant. I didn’t need to see. By now he’d have his clothes tossed about, shoes all across the floor and several nights’ worth of snacks waiting for the maid to come and clean up. I hadn’t ever met her, and already I felt sorry for her.
The second was on the left. It belonged to a girl I’d worked with on a few jobs in the past, Midge. I’d never bothered to get to know her. Sometimes she could get under my skin. The third door was on the right again.
Chan stopped before it. “Kera.” His eyes danced. I’d read her profile. This would be my first time working with her, but if her reputation held up, she would be a tough, no-nonsense, business-minded girl. I’d heard other people talking about her, and they’d said she was a force to be reckoned with.
“Ready for the competition?” Chan’s eyes held the secret pleasure of a good contest. Not his, but my good score against her reputation of the same.
I sighed and pushed him forward. The last door down the hall was next to a window that faced east; leaning into it, I could see the street sixteen floors below. I followed Chan into my room and let my eyes fall over all there was to see. I had my own bed, living room, entertainment center and work space. I also had my own bathroom. It was only in the old buildings that they had communal washrooms any longer. Too many people worried about germs and contagious infections.
I looked at the dressers. I knew they’d be fully stocked with clothes that kept up with, if were not slightly ahead of, the latest trends. Just another tool to make our job easier. To be honest, I’d take a pair of sweats and a ratty t-shirt over them any day. I had three in the suitcase, but they were only for when I was hanging around in my room. The rest of my suitcase had posters of my tropical paradise that I was anxious to post up and cover the blank mocha walls of my room, which was really like a posh prison.
“Well, if I know you, and I think I do, you’ll be wanting some privacy now.” Chan smiled and turned to leave. “See you in the morning.”
I lay on my bed, not wanting to look at the computer, knowing I had to, I had put it off as long as I could. Tacking up my posters. Re-arranging my desk. I had moved the fish bowl three times before I was sure I liked it where it was. I’d pulled the sofa under one of my wide windows, where the sun could shine in on me if I chose to sit there. Repositioned the two side chairs in front of the TV I was sure I’d never turn on. Went to the bathroom and set up my personal items according to use, so the morning would be easier. Searched through my drawers, glad that the trend wasn’t for silky pants and tank tops any longer.
Finally I popped open the screen. Sure enough, I had missed three more announcements of the sacrificed “broken eggs”. I felt ill and turned away, closing the boxes before I could see names or faces. I’d already looked long enough to be sure that no one new had come from me—not my fault…at least not this time.
I pulled up my assignment and read through it again. Monday morning, the school had an assembly scheduled—that would work well for me. Once I’d found out all I could for today, feeling prepared for tomorrow, I closed my computer down, but not quickly enough. Another name popped up. It was the one from this morning. I stopped. She was already dead. Reading further, I discovered that they were using her as a research project, cutting her open and pulling her apart to study the misfortune further and make better precautions for the future.
“This will not happen again… ” The promise flashed at the bottom of the screen as they showed a picture of her face. I turned away and hit “end”. My insides burned. I knew it would happen again, and more than likely I’d be sending another someone to that end soon. I felt my anger flare, so I got up and left my room to find something to do that could numb that feeling.
Chan was playing interactive tennis in the entertainment room. “Want to jump in?”
The metallic thwack of nothing hitting the computer racket reverberated through the surround sound.
“Hungry,” I said. I knew if I got that flimsy plastic racket in my hand, I’d at least want the satisfaction of feeling the force of a real ball bouncing off it. Doing something like that now would only tempt me to really trash something. I continued on to the kitchen.
Just one more job; no attachments—no complications, I promised myself as I mindlessly got out the ingredients for a sandwich. I blinked, and I could see that girl with her bouncy brown hair. That was all that remained of her now, my memory. And it was my fault. I sifted through my memories of her tests. Had I missed a sign? Could I have made a better judgement?
Chan came around the wall and leaned up against the island counter, “That any good?”
I looked down at the roast beef, lettuce, mayo sandwich I’d created. “I really can’t tell what’s good anymore.”
Chan cracked his wide grin, “Ah, you, my friend, are in your morose mood. Haven’t seen you this glum for two years. Which one was yours?”
“You know my rule,” I answered, taking an enormous bite of my sandwich so I couldn't be forced to say anymore.
“Right, what was that motto again? No contact—no fun.”
I shrugged and moved over to the dining room table where I could stare at the wall TV displaying a punk-looking tennis player who was making rude gestures out at the viewers. Chan must have lost the game.
“Or is it: suffer the fun and spoil the rod?”
Right, I’d forgotten—I didn’t like Chan that much at all. He was vulgar, crude and lacked compassion of any kind. I tried to scowl and felt my face disobeying my orders.
Chan howled with laughter. “You know, most would give up a limb to do our job…though they might find it harder to do then. But we have a sweet job! One of the best in the company! Look, we get everything we could ever want or need. Maids, cooks, clothes, free rides, this apartment. We get to remain young and sexy as long as we can pull it off. And with the advancements in science and technology, that might as well be forever. All we have to do is meet people! Our job is so tasty; talk, go on dates, play…I just don’t understand you, man!”
I put my sandwich down then rubbed my eyes with my hand.
“I think you are in the wrong field,” Chan went on. “Have you ever looked at making a transfer to another department?”
I nodded. “You know she wants me here.”
“But why? I mean, I know you’re good. But are you really that good? Like, how many have you recruited so far?”
I kept my hand over my face. “Two hundred and forty-seven.”
Chan whistled. “Are you serious? Wow. No wonder they don’t let you out! That’s like ten in each school!” He swore. “That’s over three times more than I’ve done in my five years.”
I held back my desire to scream. It wasn’t bad enough for me that I recruited, but add Chan and the whole department of others like us…that was a lot of recruits. What did ARM need with that many hopefuls? Granted, it didn’t help that less than half made it through the initiation program alive.
I dropped my hand in time to see Chan rub his smooth chin. “How many have you found that have made it through all the tests?”
“Two hundred and thirty-nine.”
“And how many have kicked it?”
I was distracted by his lack of tact. We were talking about human lives, but to him they were just numbers. I answered, because I felt like I needed to confess. “Eight—now.”
Chan grabbed the table, clutching at the polished surface; he looked in serious danger of falling. “Eight! Eight out of two hundred and thirty-nine! Those are better odds than me, Midge and Kera put together! Better, I’d wager, than the whole recruit program against you!”
If he was trying to make me feel better, this wasn’t helping. I thought of all the losses, and all those that were to come.
“Listen, my friend. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up! You’ve got your perspective all wrong. You are paying too much attention to the few you’ve lost and not focusing on all those you’ve found! That’s what I’d be doing! And not just that, I’d be calling in some serious favours! Man, most anybody who’s anybody in the company has to owe you something big. Do you keep in touch once they are in? Do you let go of your silly rules then?”
I shook my head. I did follow them from a distance. I watched to try and determine if they were happy with the hell I’d sentenced them to. If they’d discovered the lie yet. If they’d felt the burn of my betrayal.
“I bet your recruits are some of the brightest of them all, too?” He was right; he could read it on my face. “You helped create them, mould them. You made them become better than gods! Heck, I remember my recruiter, and I owe her all the gratitude in the world. I make sure she knows it.”
“Some of them have tried,” I said in a disgusted voice.
“Take my advice, Teig, otherwise you’re going to wind up so sad that I’ll come home to find you’ve blown your brains out – let them. Stop with your stupid rules, they are only making you miserable. Give it up, let go, enjoy your role and reap the benefits’!”
I shook my head. He didn’t get it. It didn’t matter to him that he’d given up his normal life. He was always happy for the one he got in exchange. I watched Chan go back to his game as I finished up the sandwich. Once it was done, I regretted it. The hot anger that still played around my insides mixed with the food in a strange way.
I went to clean up.
I heard the door bang open. “Chan, little help!”
He ran to Midge. “Why you always shopping?” he asked, clearly confused. “If you want anything, all you got to do is order it, and it’s here quicker than you can go out and get it yourself.”
“You are a boy. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” She was passing the kitchen. “Hey, Teig. Nice to see you again.”
Midge was a strange girl to be in this line of work. She didn’t fit the profile, at least not that I could see. It was hard to tell with her. When she was around the apartment, she let her brown hair fall in greasy clumps down around her face, with its eggplant-shaped nose. She refused to put on make-up, and her oversized body was forced into the most unappealing clothes. I tried to convince myself that that was how she was comfortable, like my sweats, but I still found her hard to look at too much. She really was the most unappealing girl I’d ever seen. Yet her record stood for itself. She was quite proficient at her job, compared to everyone else.
I gave her what I hoped was a friendly nod.
“What’s his problem?”
“He lost a recruit this morning.” Chan walked after her down the hall, his arms loaded with bags.
“Oh, how many we down now? I haven’t looked all day.”
Her voice trailed off. I had to get out of the apartment; soon they’d be debating about their losses and gains. I never partook, as Chan had pointed out: I’d recruited more, lost less and all my candidates ended up at the top of the program. But I hated to think about it, because what was just numbers to them were human lives to me.
I headed down to the pool and swam laps until my arms ached and my back screamed and my lungs were about to burst, then I headed to the sauna and soaked until I couldn’t stay any longer. Dried and dressed, I boarded the elevator and returned to my apartment.
I made it to the media room and saw that someone was still up watching TV.
She turned, and I was facing two perfect violet eyes. “Do not be bothering me with introduction,” she said in a harsh tone that could not detract from her sexy French accent.
I continued to stare. She was tall, with long gorgeous legs and fine facial features. Her blonde hair fell in luscious waves down her back. If I were to create my own image of the girl with everything I was looking for, she would be it. Now she was someone I expected in this line of work.
“I have read your profile, as I’m sure you have mine. Let us just be silent roommates.” She turned back to the TV.
“Absolutely,” I replied, thinking she and I would get on just fine. But as I stood there like a fool, I asked, “How was your flight?” I was slightly off balance; nothing in her profile prepared me for this.
“Just fine.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off the TV. “Listen, don’t let me keep you from whatever you are up to.” When I continued to stand and stare, she added, “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to rest before I have to be on tomorrow.”
I nodded, feeling foolish knowing she couldn’t see, then went to my room without a backwards glance. I went to the mirror. Yup, it was written on all my altered features, I was spellbound. That was going to complicate things; I’d have to keep a better watch on my responses to her overwhelming beauty. It did explain how she was so good at her job.
I sat in front of my computer to do some early research while I waited for exhaustion to catch up with me. There was her face again, number 233, Marry Anne. I had tried not to see the name, but I didn’t avert my eyes in time. ARM was claiming cell incompatibility for her failure to assimilate. I knew that was a lie. She had been perfect. I went over her induction again in my head. She’d passed every one of the tests. I’d overseen it, I watched over my inductees, even if I didn’t let them see me ever again. I always made sure.
I thought back to my first year on the job. I’d lost two. Ed, my roommate at the time, had told me to relax. He’d started recruiting just two years earlier, and he explained that this field of work wasn’t for everyone. Losses were unavoidable, and I shouldn’t take them so personally. “Your only job is to see potentials, and work them through the standard tests set up by the company. If they are a match, sign them on.” Of course, this was back when ARM wouldn’t always be able to recruit any one or every one they wanted.
Still, it bugged me and I complained that I couldn’t work with such overwhelmingly unfavourable odds. His reply to this was, “Teig, let me tell you this, don’t waste your time. If they make it through they will be the better for it, and if they don’t, trust me, no one will miss them.” I was so disgusted; I hardly talked to him after that. He’d requested to never be assigned with me again.
That’s when I started to create my own system. I devoted hours to be better assured that my recruits were good candidates. The next year, I only lost one. Then in the next three years, I didn’t have any failures—that was a record. So, the following year was a setback with four (but three were the result of extenuating circumstances). It had been over two years since then. I closed my eyes, and there she was, Marry Anne: I’d watched her play with her brother the night before she was inducted. She had a gentle and loving way with him. Her laugh was quiet, like she didn’t want to force her joy on you, but it was contagious; everyone around her smiled when she did.
I’d have to try even harder this time.
Chapter Three: Tia: Crazy Eyes
Monday started off like any other day. I got up. Took my portion of a shower. Fixed my hair just the way I like it. Beat my sister to the table, securing my favourite chair as well as the best portion of bacon. Dad was in a rush, so he didn’t have time to lay it out on the plate like a smiley face, which I was happy about. I really was too mature for such silliness. I think Samara would agree, though she was three years my junior.
As I was finishing my second egg, she came bounding into the room.
“You went twenty-three seconds into my shower time!” she complained bitterly.
I rolled my eyes. She was exaggerating—she always did. But I knew she wouldn’t be happy until she got our regular morning argument out of the way. She and I were opposites; it hadn’t been so bad when we went to different schools…now she attended Clay Winston High just like me, and that gave her the ability to get on my nerves twenty-four seven.
“It was only ten seconds,” I told her. “And you owe me for last night—your call cost me twenty minutes on the phone with Pen.”
Of course, she complained that May didn’t attend the same school as her, and my friends did, so I had all day to talk with them. She did have a point…but still, time is time, and she had to concede that she’d eaten into my time more than I had hers.
As usual, by the end we’d settled our scores of the past week—and I’d won. I rushed off to pick up my friends, my day to carpool, while Samara waited for Dad to drop her off on his way to work. Samara had been in three carpools, and none of them had worked. Mine was full (I was secretly glad about that), so when Dad could, he drove her. When he couldn’t, she was stuck on the transit. It took her twice as long to get to school those days. I ignored that feeling in my gut that told me this was wrong.
Just like clockwork, as the elevator reached Austin’s floor, seven down from mine, he was waiting for me. “Gonna ride with the top down again?” he asked, eyeing the scarf I held in my hand.
“Of course,” I said, whipping it open for dramatic effect before tying it around my hair.
“You know who’s gonna complain,” he said in a sulky voice.
“You worry about you, and I’ll worry about her,” I shot back.
In the parkade, he jumped into my car. The top was down because the weather was perfect. Of course there weren’t many days that weren’t cloudless and sunny now. I know some people would complain about water shortages, but really, I enjoyed driving with the top off, so I’m not one of them.
“That scarf makes you look like a nineteen thirties movie star!” Az complimented as he tried to buckle up. Coming from anyone else, I wouldn’t have been sure that was a compliment.
“Keeps the curls in,” I explained.
Austin’s buckle was sticking, and the car refused to go into drive. “When you gonna get this fixed, T?” he complained.
I shrugged, disguising the shudder. This was my mother’s car. She was supposed to fix it but, before she could, she got sick and died. For some idiotic reason, it was the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to do!
“Want I should take a look at it for you?” Austin was still struggling, and I knew the old him would be swearing by now—sometimes I missed the old him, just a little.
“Now you know I don’t really trust you behind the wheel,” I teased.
“So, this weekend?”
I just nodded. With his buckle finally fastened, I was able to slam the shift into drive. I flew out of the parking lot and hit the street, making a red hover car swerve. I didn’t pay it any attention as I headed towards the school. Miko was waiting at her corner. She slid into the back.
“Top down again,” she complained.
“I’ve got an extra scarf,” I offered.
“I should remember to braid my hair when it’s your turn to drive.” Her thick black hair fell just below her waist. She quickly pulled it into a loose bun.
I nodded as I took off again.
Pen took a while to come out. She was one of the very few that lived in a low rise townhouse complex, a remnant of the millennial style housing. Not many were left from that era. In my opinion, her house had less floor space, but at least she didn’t have to ride an elevator to get to her door.
She descended her stairs too fast, slipping from the top of her five steps right to the bottom in a feat that defied gravity, with her back arching all the way over, but as her foot hit that last step, she straightened up and bounced to the car. She had even managed to avoid spilling a drop of the full cup of coffee that she held without a lid.
“Pen, you gonna pay the dry-cleaning bill?” I eyed her drink meaningfully.
She gave me a quick scowl then downed the contents in three large gulps and set the cup on her bottom step.
“Rats.” She brushed her lips with the back of her hand. “Wish the coffee hadn’t been so hot. Now I can’t feel my tongue. I’m gonna have no taste for the rest of today.”
Miko laughed.
Pen slipped over the door into the back seat. “No top again! Do you do this to me on purpose!”
I just laughed as Az shot me an “I-told-you-so” look.
“Hey, everyone remember about the assembly this morning?” Miko said. I think she was trying to change the subject, because it wasn’t new news—we had one almost every Monday.
Our gymnasium is an impressive size, even for a school with our enrollment. It has bleachers against each of the four walls. As our team was hosting, we were seated with one half of the school on the north side of the gym and the other half of the school across from us on the south. The visiting school sat in the bleachers to the right and left (east and west) of us. Most of the visiting seats were taken up with interactive video recorders. Only the front two rows were occupied by live people. The recorders swivelled and focused where their operators were pointing them.
I’m not a fan of assemblies or games or rallies… But I was trying to decide which I hated more. At away games, we would be sitting in the same seats with our heads strapped into something called a screening box (inside was a flat screen TV). It is the partner to the video recorders. As we moved our heads to see better, the corresponding camera at the away school would turn left and right, so it was like we were actually there. The most fun I had was when the system glitched and another broadcast would be intercepted by our own (once it was sparring, I kind of enjoyed that…or maybe I just enjoyed all the panic and mayhem it created).
Still, I liked looking at the faces of students from other schools who we were less than likely to ever meet or even see again. I found that fascinating. I could always spot the popular kids, and I enjoyed listening—or lip-reading, more accurately, to their conversations. Az always sat next to me; he had just as much fun listening to me relay what I heard/saw. At home games it was the same boring faces, but at least I wasn’t forced to wear a box on my head that ruined my hair.
That was where I saw him…my stomach gave a familiar swoop of fate knocking on my soul. I was staring mindlessly across the auditorium (actually I was trying to locate my sister) when he caught my eye. He was sitting among a group of students, but clearly not with any of them. I could see Josh (one of my old boyfriends) two seats to his right, and all the boys around him looked vaguely familiar, but I didn’t recognize his face. I leaned over to Pen, because she was the best resource about boys at the school.
“Hey, see that boy? He’s new, right?”
Pen lifted her eyes from her Blackberry. “Who?”
I spent a moment studying him—he stood apart from any other boy I’d seen. The swooping grew as I stared, and the hairs at the base of my neck started to prickle. Two conflicting signs… Clearly there was something important about him. I could feel it.
“Don’t you see him?”
Pen hadn’t located him. Her eyes were gazing across the gym looking all around the large crowd. Eleven thousand seven hundred and thirty-seven students attended our school, and the rally was mandatory, so roughly 5868 fellow students sat across from us. That was a lot of kids to try and shift through. I tried to be patient as I waited for her to spot him.
“He’s the boy with the olive complexion, curly black hair… ” When it was clear she hadn’t seen him, I went on. “High cheekbones,” shaping his face in an appealing way, I noted. “Oh!” I gasped as I felt his eyes lock on mine. Was he as curious about me as I was him? Then he blinked and looked at Pen for a second, then blinked again and moved to Miko, who sat next to her. He blinked again and looked at the next person in our stand.
In that moment, I had noticed something that was bound to set him apart from all the others. With a huge, swooping sensation in my stomach, I leaned in closer and covered my mouth to speak to Pen, just in case the boy was as good at lip reading as I was. “He’s got violet eyes.”
Violet eyes like that could only mean one thing, just like my eyes set me apart as a rare survivor of the 2044 influenza, those eyes were even rarer. They meant that he had mechanically altered eyes. The procedure cost more than a small island and was entirely unnecessary unless you worked in a job where you needed the ability to take photos with your eyes, or see great distances, or have night vision, or make calculations correct to a thousandths of an inch. Photographers and journalists were usually among the main public candidates signing up for it, and some race car drivers invested in a pair…of course the military made all their intelligence men get that, among other enhancing surgeries (I’m sure builders and graphic designers would get some if they could afford them). The point was, you didn’t see the average person walking the streets with a pair, and even rarer would be a student enrolled in high school. But every once in a while, there were those unfortunate birth defects, like blindness, that would be cured with the operation.
I felt a wave of excitement roll through me. I just had to meet him now! Yet, in the same instant, I felt the cool sensation of ice sliding down my spine… With a reaction like that, I wondered if I really should.
“Violet eyes?” Pen was looking harder from face to face, squinting and leaning forward.
Of course, I scolded myself, she wouldn’t be able to see; her sight wasn’t as good as mine. Really, the only one in the room whose sight would be equal to mine was that boy… My gift from that deadly virus—better eyesight. Not really the only gift, just the only noticeable one, and like the others, I tried to forget it whenever I could. It was a part of me that set me apart from everyone else, and I didn’t like thinking of myself that way.
“All right,” I said, trying to make up for my oversight. “He’s sitting in the middle of the middle row, ten from the top and eleven from the bottom.”
Pen scowled. “Freak.”
I gave up on her and leaned towards Austin. “Hey, Az, have you been into the school records lately?”
He snapped his head towards me quickly. “You know I wouldn’t even know how to do that!” He wore an expression of too-perfect innocence. I waited. “Why?” he asked under his breath.
“Did you hear of any new students coming?”
A smile spread across his face. “I saw a couple a few weeks back…anything in particular that you’d be looking for?”
“Oh, it would be something you’d notice right away.”
I gazed across the room again and saw that the boy with violet eyes continued to look from one face to the next, giving each a few seconds of his interest before he moved on to the following one. Surely only a new kid would do something like that, trying to find a friendly face in the crowd. I remembered doing something similar my first days back.