The Drafter

by Kim Harrison

  His gaze sharpened on her. “You believe me that Opti is corrupt?”

  “Enough to be talking to you.” Her heart thudded, her thoughts going to the bell on her key chain. “I think I found the chip you wanted.” He had said it would end everything. She didn’t care who was corrupt anymore—she just wanted out.

  “I watched them burn your apartment.” Silas’s expression was thick with irritation as he looked out the top of the alley and into the bright sun. “I doubt what you found is what we need.”

  Peri’s lip twitched . . . and then she let the anger go. Her talismans didn’t matter anymore. Her past didn’t matter anymore. “It was in the bell on my cat’s collar. Jack gave me that cat. He’s not a stray; he found me. I don’t know why Opti let me keep him.” Peri glanced at Silas, seeing a cautious hope. “Maybe they thought he was just a cat.”

  He went still in thought, then slowly put his arm in hers. Together they stepped out into the bright light and sporadic foot traffic. It was a beautiful spring morning, the wind off the nearby engineered lake cleanly lifting through her hair. Their feet struck the sidewalk in exactly the same cadence, and she wished she could enjoy it like everyone else shopping around her.

  “You found the chip on your cat?”

  His brow was high in disbelief, bothering her. “Yes. Last night while ransacking Allen’s apartment looking for something to cut the LoJack out of my ass,” she said, sarcasm thick. “And if you laugh, I’ll hit you again. You said you’d give me asylum if I could find the chip. Well?”

  “Mmmm,” he said lightly, his pace never changing. “You owe me a coat.”

  His response took Peri by surprise. “I what?”

  “Owe me a coat,” he repeated, angling her across the busy commons to the shops and weaving around the dog walkers and couples having breakfast at the fountain. “This one has someone’s slushy on it.”

  She leaned to look. “Sorry,” she said, meaning it, and then a wide smile came over her as she saw where they were headed. “Mules?” she said, liking the upscale men’s and women’s clothier. “You got enough for this, pretty man?”

  “You’re paying,” he said, reaching out to open the door for her as the simulated mannequins in the window “saw” and responded to them. “Besides, you need a cover story in case you get caught. You could buy yourself a new blouse. You should buy yourself a new blouse,” he amended, and she looked down at the patterned monstrosity.

  “Yeah,” she said softly as the young woman in her skintight office dress rose from a round table covered in swatches and several open laptops. The boutique looked more like a redecorating store than a clothier, with drapes of fabric artfully arranged between the clusters of couches. A refreshment bar and two low stages were set in the center of the store, roughly dividing it into his and hers.

  “Welcome to Sim’s Mules. Can I help you?” the young woman said, and the older woman still at the round table returned to her work.

  “I need a new coat,” Silas said as he took his off and handed it to her. “She needs help,” he added. “Lots of it.”

  Peri grimaced.

  “Of course. I’m Kelly,” she said as she handed the coat in turn to an assistant dressed to look like a behind-the-scenes prop man. Tsking, he took it to the center counter to clean it.

  “If you’d like to step into the scanner, we can find your perfect fit,” Kelly said, hiding a wince as Peri fingered an especially fine drape of rough silk. “We usually require an appointment, but it’s slow this morning. The weather is so nice outside.”

  “I’m on file,” Silas said. “So is she.”

  Peri turned to him as Kelly’s entire demeanor shifted three tax brackets up. “I am?”

  Silas took the palm-size keypad Kelly had enthusiastically handed him. “We are two blocks from your old apartment,” he said as he typed in first his, then her name. “You’re on file.”

  Kelly beamed at the cheerful ding, turning to see the two holograms that shimmered into existence at one of the stages. “You’re on file,” she said happily as the two mules in their silk boxers and black panties and chemise began to interact with each other on basic programming.

  “Welcome back, Ms. Reed. Dr. Denier,” Kelly said as she took the keypad and read the screen. “Have a seat and feel free to look through the catalog. I’ve put you at table three. I’ll be right back with some refreshments. Coffee mocha for you, ma’am?” she said, glancing at her readout. “Straight black for you, Doctor?”

  Peri didn’t remember setting up her profile, but the simulation “talking” to Silas’s double looked up-to-date. “Sure,” she said, not realizing until just that moment how wide Silas’s shoulders were. And was she really that short beside him?

  She stifled a shiver as Silas set a light hand on the small of her back, escorting her to the small table overlooking the commons, bright with light and busy with people living their lives. She could see everything, and for the first time in ages, she felt safe. But then her butt gave a twinge and her tension swung back around as she tried to find a comfortable position.

  “Can’t try on coats half dressed,” Silas said as he swiped through one of the two glass catalogs and quickly chose a classic pair of black pants, striped shirt, and matching tie. Peri’s mule clapped her hands and jumped, showing her belly button, and Peri hid a smile. Marketing at its finest. But even she had to admit it looked good. She glanced sidelong at Silas. Really good.

  “I’m going to change your drink,” he said, eyes furtive as he suddenly stood. “Trust me?”

  “With my drink order, sure,” she said. “What are you really doing?”

  He chuckled sheepishly. “Calling Howard. He’s going to want to run his bug detector over you before I bring you in.”

  Peri leaned back in the cushions, arms over her chest. “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust me either.”

  “Oh, stop looking for shoes to throw,” he said sourly. “I’m going to be right over there. Pick yourself out something. That blouse is awful.”

  “I think Allen bought it,” she said, mollified as she pulled the second tablet to herself and brought up the women’s section.

  “It looks like something he’d like,” he said, already walking away, and Peri smiled.

  But it faded fast, and her gaze fell to her palm where her message to herself stood out in harsh letters. Opti would never let her out, unless it was in a body bag.

  Mood tarnished, she quickly dressed her mule in a tight, thigh-high evening dress, a wash of color at the collar to show off her slim neck and a pair of six-inch heels to bring her closer to Silas’s mule’s height. They looked good enough for a night on the town—a really expensive night—and she started, sighing when Jack’s presence was suddenly standing beside her. “I hope you like what he brings back,” he said as he sat down, his arms spread across the back of the wide chair to own the space. His suit rivaled the one Silas’s mule wore on the stage, now sharing a glass of not-there wine with her double.

  “Me too.” Fidgeting, she turned to Silas at the center counter, talking on his own phone. “It’s probably some foo-foo drink with too much sugar.”

  “I meant,” Jack said, pulling her attention back, “I hope you like the memories he brings back. He wants to, you know. Damn psychologist anchor.”

  Peri frowned. She was here to buy her way out of Opti, not defragment memories. Besides, how would she know what was real and what was false?

  “Here he comes,” Jack said as Silas approached, two ceramic mugs in his hands.

  “Try this,” Silas said as he put the one with the cinnamon stick before her with a satisfied firmness. “I guarantee you’ll like it.”

  Silas began to sit, and she watched in amazement when Jack all but fell out of the chair, scrambling to get out of the way and swearing as he strove to maintain the illusion that he was real. Oblivious, Silas took his place, clearly eager for her to try the frothy, steamy drink.

  It looked like it had too much milk, but she took a
taste, turning it into a long draft when she found it creamy but not too rich, spicy without hiding the nutty flavor. Eyes closing, she held a swallow on her tongue, savoring it. “That’s good,” she said, and Silas beamed, sipping his own straight-up black coffee. “You’re an anchor, aren’t you,” she said, and he hesitated. The all-too-familiar feeling of having said something stupid came over her. She should know that already.

  “Sort of.” Silas drew his tablet back to himself. “How did you guess?”

  Peri stared out at the commons, trying to let it go. “Trained anchors have a feel about them that’s easy enough to pick up on. You’ve never worked in the field before, though.”

  “You’re not nearly smart enough,” Jack said snidely as he fingered a display of silk ties.

  “You’re not nearly careful enough,” she said, wishing Jack would shut up. Silas had said he was tied to her intuition. Apparently something about Silas bugged her. Smiling, Peri hoisted the coffee. “Thank you. This is good.”

  “I saw your diary. When I was an unwilling guest at Opti,” Silas added at her sudden disquiet. “I’m sure half of it was invented to scare me, but they left enough of you in there to convince me it wasn’t fake. It’s something you said you liked last year, so . . .”

  Not knowing if she should be flattered or creeped out, Peri watched their mules interact. “You figured I wouldn’t remember it. No, I don’t. Thank you. I appreciate you giving this back to me.”

  “Blah, blah, blah.” Scraping his blond hair out of his eyes, Jack tried on a black tie. “You have an expiration date, babe. Cut to the chase.”

  Silas was clearly pleased. “I thought it might make you feel more like yourself.”

  “It does.” Peri leaned back, ankles crossed as she tried to relax, not liking that he knew more about her than she did. “How long until Howard gets here? I left Allen doped up, and if I’m not there when he wakes, they’ll know I pulled the tracker.”

  Head down, Silas looked through the coats, trying several on to make Peri’s mule clap her hands. “He’s on his way. How are you doing?”

  Jack snorted, and, surprised, her head rose. “How am I doing? Seriously?”

  Silas looked up. “Yes. How are you doing? I can’t ask that?”

  Peri darted a look at Jack, now on the stage with the other beautiful pretend people. “I’m pretty confused right now,” she said sarcastically. “Forgive me, but I’ve got this memory of you shoving Allen through a window—”

  “That’s fake,” he interrupted.

  “We know that, dumbass,” Jack said loudly, and Peri set her mug down hard.

  “I know that.” She hadn’t meant it to sound nasty, but that’s how it came out, and she touched his hand to convince him she wasn’t mad. “It would take more than the weight of one man to break the window. It’s supposed to be bulletproof.” She furrowed her brow, angry at herself for having trusted so blindly.

  “Do you want me to fragment these fake memories?” Silas said, and she shook her head. It was all she had, false or not. “You don’t trust me yet,” Silas said. “That’s okay.”

  Annoyed, she shifted her mug around. “It’s not about trust. It’s about me needing to make the right responses, and if you take them away, I won’t. You were an Opti psychologist, weren’t you? Until Opti fired you?”

  He stiffened. “I quit Opti. They didn’t fire me.”

  Peri took a deep breath, ready to broach what had been on her mind since last night. “Silas, that picture you gave me triggered a memory knot of Jack and me.”

  Silas’s expression blanked. “Are you okay? Have any more snarled up?”

  “No. And I don’t know why except that the knot was of a real memory, not twin timelines,” she said, wanting him to say it would be okay. How could something that beautiful be bad? “Even if Jack was lying to me, even if he was a bastard and used me, I felt centered that night. Beautiful. Safe.” Silas followed her gaze to the simulations, not seeing Jack standing beside her and Silas’s mules like a jealous boyfriend.

  “Mmmm.” Silas’s sudden worry was obvious. “He’s here now, right?”

  She nodded and Jack blew a sarcastic kiss at them. “Here comes the psychobabble BS,” Jack said. “Ignore it, babe. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going on.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about the memory knot,” Silas said. “As long as they aren’t centered around twin timelines, they’re just your way to remember artificially destroyed memories.”

  Artificially destroyed . . . They can do that?

  “But what about Jack?” she asked, setting her outrage aside for the moment. Opti had lied to her about everything else, why not the missing time associated with a draft, too?

  Silas shrugged. “Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t broken up. But if he’s still there, then the twin timelines I left in you are still there, too.”

  “You left twin timelines in me?” she whispered hotly, lowering her voice when the man cleaning Silas’s coat intruded to hang it up on the purchase rack near her chair. Warm, Peri leaned over the table. “What kind of an anchor are you?”

  “A damn good one. You’re still sane, aren’t you?” he said tightly, eyes on the man as he went into the back room. That was debatable, and he shifted under her accusing stare. “The proof that Opti is corrupt is in your mind. I couldn’t fragment either line without destroying the truth,” he finally admitted. “I tied three years of latent memories of Jack to your intuition so the inevitable hallucinations would distract you from tearing your mind apart. Peri, I’d take you in to the alliance myself and defrag them, but without something to prove your loyalty to them, they’ll scrub you themselves.”

  Scrub as in artificially destroy. Peri slumped in the seat and stared at him, her trust in Opti falling utterly apart. “I’m just a big Etch A Sketch, huh? Don’t like what you see? Give me a good shake, and write what you want.” It was getting easier to say, but the bitterness was chiseled deeper with every new realization.

  “That’s not true. Peri, you’re in control of your own destiny.”

  “Bull,” she said calmly, angry as she turned off her mule so she wouldn’t have to look at it up there with Silas and Jack. “My actions stem from what I remember, and my memories are a made-up mix of lies and falsehoods. And now you tell me the years I’ve lost are artificial?” she said, voice rising. “I trusted my anchor to tell me what decision to make until I remembered everything—and he betrayed me. Don’t tell me I’m in control of my destiny until you’ve lived without knowing what’s real and what’s not.”

  Her soul hurt, and she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. On the stage, Silas’s mule became sad, straightening his tie and tugging his coat as if finding his courage to start again.

  “I want asylum, Silas. Can you give it to me or not?”

  Silas rubbed the back of his neck and turned his simulation off as well. With a snort, Jack wandered away, heading for the half-dressed mules in the front window. Peri hoped he’d leave. “If that’s the chip we want? Probably,” Silas said. “Let me see it.”

  She pulled her purse up and onto her lap. “God help me,” she said as she took out her keys and wedged the bell off the key ring. Damn it, she was going to trust him, and she watched herself, unbelieving when she just gave it to him.

  The bell looked tiny in his hand, and he squinted at the chip. “Huh,” he said softly. “How lucky is it that he put it on the one thing that made it out of your apartment.”

  She nodded. The collar had dagazes all over it, but only she or Jack would know that made it important. “That cat is the only thing that feels real to me. Apart from my car and a bag of yarn,” she said.

  Silas tucked the bell away. “If Howard says it’s the list, I’ll call you.”

  Her head snapped up. “Call! I want to go now,” she complained, and Kelly, coming to check on them, turned and went back into the back room.

  Mistrust flared when he shook his head. “Opti doesn’t know you broke the mem
ory implants, do they?” Silas said. “You should be okay for a day or two. Once we get it uncoded, the alliance will grant you asylum.”

  “This sucks,” she said bitterly. Maybe she wasn’t as nice as she thought. She had killed her own anchor, after all—and she’d loved him. “Please don’t betray me. If you do, I’ll have to kill you.” Angry at herself for having trusted him, she stood. “I’ll probably have to kill you anyway, but I’d rather do it because I was told to, not because you lied to me.”

  “Peri . . .” In a rush, Silas stood. Breath held, she waited, making a fist around her note to herself, hiding it. “Peri, about Jack.” He hesitated until she looked up. “If you have an issue with Jack not suppressing the twin lines, any at all, forget Opti and find me. Try not to draft in the meantime. Even in the best case, Jack will be able to repress the twin timelines only so long, and then you will—”

  “Yes, I know, MEP,” she finished, the threat so constant it had lost a lot of its bite. “Don’t call me. I’ll call you. Tomorrow. If I run, don’t follow me. Got it?”

  She turned and walked out. Hunched into her coat, she hustled back to the elevated, feeling Silas’s eyes on her every step of the way. Her heart pounded as she took the stairs, her world seeming to shift and realign to something new and far more dangerous.

  “Jack?” she whispered, and he was suddenly beside her on the stair.

  “Yes, Peri?”

  She halted on the platform, the wind in her hair fresher as she looked straight up into the camera, not caring if it recognized her. All she had was this instant. To try to remember her past would drive her insane. But for the first time, she found strength in it, not fear.

  “Don’t leave me yet,” she said. She’d seen what happened when drafters fell into memory-eclipsed paranoia. Unable to trust anyone, they usually killed themselves to make the confusion stop.

  “Never,” he said, and somehow, she thought that even more dangerous.