Etherworld

by Claudia Gabel

  “I guess,” I say.

  Avery waves me over, and I come a little closer as he sets his huge bag down on the floor. “Gib, this is Regan Wel—”

  “I know,” he says, locking eyes with me. “I saw that video of you and that billionaire on the Net. What’s life like in the nuthouse?”

  “Uh, pretty awful.” I glare at Avery. The last thing we need is someone knowing who and where I am, but she just shakes her head at me like she’s certain he won’t tell anyone.

  “I brought the Turbo. It should only take a minute to warm up, and less than five to make the piece,” he says, crouching down and unzipping the bag. Then he pulls out a big insulated box, which he opens very delicately. Inside is a thin, sleek, rectangular machine that he places on Josh’s coffee table.

  “Nice 3D printer,” I say, kneeling in front of it to get a better look. “That’s the smallest one I’ve ever seen.”

  “This one isn’t even out on the market yet,” Giblin brags.

  I squint at him. “Then how’d you get it?”

  Avery swats me on the arm. “Rule number one: never ask Gib how he gets anything.”

  “Is there a rule number two?” I ask.

  “The less you know about me, the better,” he replies, smiling. “So Avery says you need a fake passcard with a custom semiconductor chip. That right?”

  I look at Avery and she’s standing there with a smug grin on her face, but it doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact, I smile back at her, grateful that she thought of this. Additive manufacturing is everywhere these days, but making phony passcards with 3Ds is illegal, especially ones with embedded chips that have the power to do things like crack lockpad codes. Possession of a fake passcard is a felony. Still, it’s the best way to get inside Orexis and to the lab where my dad is being held, so taking this risk is totally worth it.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” I say.

  Giblin presses a couple of buttons on the printer and a low humming sound begins to emanate from the machine. Then he pulls out his tab from his back pocket and begins typing on it.

  “Okay, let’s talk credits,” he says. “I’m thinking two thousand will cover it.”

  “Two thousand?” Avery says, aghast. “What the hell, Gib? Are you trying to price-gouge us?”

  “Sorry, but that’s the cost of high demand.” He sets his tab down next to the printer and then cracks his knuckles. “You’re going to pay extra for an express order and at-home delivery.”

  “This is bullshit. You know you owe me a favor,” Avery says.

  He shrugs. “I can knock off five hundred, but that’s the best I can do.”

  I tug on the sleeve of Avery’s jacket and we take a few steps back while Giblin inspects the printer.

  “Do it,” I say. “I’ll figure out a way to get him the money.”

  “That’s really steep,” she says.

  “There are lives on the line here. I don’t care. I’ll get the money somehow.”

  Avery nods and heads over to Giblin, sticking out her hand. “Okay, we’re in for fifteen hundred. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Giblin gives her a shake and me a polite nod. “Now comes the fun part.”

  He reaches into the insulated box and brings out an egg-shaped container filled with wet, cream-colored putty. It’s the compound that makes the mold. Giblin puts it into a tray in the back of the printer and closes it. He digs in the box again and takes out a cellophane envelope containing the gold semiconductor chip, which is so tiny I can barely see it. He puts that into another compartment and uploads the product design with his tab, and then we watch as the printing process begins. The low hum raises an octave or two, but the machine is much quieter than any other 3D I’ve seen.

  “So here’s the thing,” Giblin says as the printer goes to work. “This will be state-of-the-art merchandise, and I can guarantee it will get the job done. But some lockpads might have codes that are harder to bypass, so it might take anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute for the card to crack it, depending on the tech sophistication.”

  “That’s no good,” Avery says. “She needs instant access, not this time-delay crap.”

  Giblin raises a pierced eyebrow at me. “Instant access, huh?”

  I don’t even bother responding. I just keep my eyes on the printer and envision myself walking into room 5020, like my father hoped I would do a week ago. I feel a surge of determination rising within me.

  This is going to work.

  “The chip is top quality. It’ll worm it’s way through some nasty stuff, so don’t worry,” Giblin reassures us.

  “What about security systems? Will the semiconductor set off any kind of alarms?” Avery asks.

  “No, it should be undetectable,” he says. “Like me.”

  Minutes later, a tray slowly opens from the front of the printer, presenting us with a fresh, new, white passcard that looks completely real. Giblin takes it and gives it to me, the plastic warm in my hands.

  “You can wire me the credits. Avery has my info. If I don’t have the payment in the next two hours, I’ll send someone to look for you. And he won’t be as friendly as I am,” he says, narrowing his dark eyes at me.

  “Consider it done,” Zoe says, walking into the room. “I just wired the credits to Avery. She’ll make sure you get them.”

  “Zoe . . . ,” I protest.

  “It was nothing,” she says. “Seriously. My dad can pay me back. It’s the least he can do.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “The pleasure was mine,” Giblin says, quickly packing up all his equipment into his duffel bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “Avery, nice seeing you again.”

  “But you were never here, right?” she replies.

  He smirks and says, “You know me. I’m never anywhere.”

  Then he darts out the front door of the trailer and into his truck, which growls to life and speeds off into the early morning darkness.

  TEN

  ZOE PATS ME ON THE LEG. “SO ONCE WE get to the building, you’re going to use the side door, right?”

  We left Zoe’s car with Avery and we’re sitting side by side on the Traxx, zooming over patches of pre–Standard 7 shift traffic. I’m attempting to disguise myself by wearing Zoe’s obnoxiously large Florapetro glasses, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Even though it’s only five in the morning, and the train is already half full of people, they’re zoned out, eyes closed with Equips on, their bodies swaying with the turn of the train.

  “Right,” I reply. We’re going to use the door where I met up with Cathryn the other night. It’s the most hidden of all the building entrances, and because it’s rarely used and not open to the public, it’s not guarded. I glance nervously out the window. The Renaissance Center looms in front of us, the tower lights at the top of the titanium building gleaming in the black sky.

  “Thanks again for the whole Giblin thing,” I say.

  “Of course. What are friends for, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say with a nod and slight smile. Up until today I wouldn’t have referred to Zoe as a friend, but she’s proving herself to be just that. “Do you think Avery will be able to hack into the security cameras?” I ask, getting back to the matter at hand.

  While disabling the entry point is key, I’m more worried about getting to the elevators and the research lab floors without detection.

  Zoe shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s good, but taking down an entire network from her tab is asking a lot.”

  I fidget with the safety harness as I continue to stare out the window, turning my attention across the river toward Canada, catching an occasional glimpse of Windsor’s lit skyline through the oily clouds. My mind is spinning like it did when I was in the car with Patrick and thought we were headed toward Orexis: I’m excited about finding my dad but terrified I’ll screw things up.

  “If worse comes to worst, I can just hide out in a closet or something until I can get lost in the morning rush,” I say.

  “That
might be a bad idea. The longer you’re in there, the better chance you have of getting caught and hauled away again. I’m not sure I can jailbreak you a second time.”

  I’m realizing just how crazy this stunt is. Yesterday, when my mom confronted me about sneaking into Patrick’s office with the QuTap, she was shocked. If she could see me now, armed with an illegal semiconductor-enhanced passcard in my pocket and ready to storm back into Orexis, she’d think I was nothing short of insane. But when I get to room 5020 and find my father there, she and everyone else will understand why this was worth the risk.

  And all the lies will finally be revealed.

  The train screeches to a stop at the Inner Sector. We exit into the darkness of the early morning, walking on a platform hundreds of feet up, in front of a gigantic electronic billboard for The Must-Have New Product of the Year—Elusion! Don’t You Deserve to Escape? Zoe pauses, giving the sign the middle finger, and I grin, making my way toward the giant aerial spiderweb of escalators.

  “Don’t forget your O2 shield.” Zoe hands me one as she motions toward the air quality reports on the information screens.

  I fasten it over my face as we step onto the escalator and begin to descend, the lights of the inner-city skyline vanishing as the escalator zooms toward the ground. I think about Josh, still unconscious, his mind still trapped in Elusion. The possibility of him—or my dad or anyone else—not being able to return makes my blood turn to ice.

  We step off and weave our way through the crowd, heading toward one of the pedestrian bridges that funnel through the Orexis complex.

  We arrive at company headquarters, not far from the exact spot where I saw Cathryn trying to avoid the media the other day. I cringe as I remember how naive I was that night. During our ride to the Merch Sector, she chatted cozily with me, giving me advice like a second mother. She seemed so . . . normal. How could she have looked me in the eye, knowing full well my dad was still alive and locked away under her orders? How did I not see through her?

  I look around. From what I can see, the crowd of media has grown significantly—at least a hundred more people are huddled in the floodlights, breathing into their O2 shields. I’m tempted to run out and give them the scoop of a lifetime, but I know it won’t do any good. No one is going to believe my dad is alive until they see him for themselves, especially since all of Detroit knows I was in the nuthouse, as Giblin put it.

  “I think I should go in with you,” I hear Zoe say, my eyes still glued to the buzzing of the crowd. “If we spot Patrick, I can keep him occupied while you head to the lab.”

  “No, we should stick to the plan. Talk to your dad. Tell him everything that happened to me; tell him what you saw with”—I swallow hard—“Josh. Maybe you can get him to agree to help us, or at least delay the release.”

  She taps me on the shoulder, and when I turn to her, her brown eyes are glistening. For a second, I think she might lean over and give me a hug. Instead, she rummages through her bag and then hands me a small silver tab.

  “Zoe, I can’t,” I say, backing away a little. She’s done so much for me already, including loaning me those fifteen hundred credits to cover the passcard.

  “Just take it. I have two, so this one’s a spare. The benefits of having divorced parents.” She winks.

  “Thank you,” I say, gratefully accepting the tab. “For everything.”

  “After you find your dad and call the police, take all the video you can. Record him and the room too—from every angle. Talk into the mic about what the camera can’t pick up,” she instructs.

  “I will,” I say. Her other tab chirps and she pulls it out of her purse. “Avery just texted. The cam on the door is down but . . . damn it, that’s all she could do.”

  “The other security cameras are still live?”

  Zoe nods. “She also told me to tell you to hold the passcard in front of the lockpad for an extra second or two. Just to make sure it can access the codes.”

  “Okay, will do.”

  With Avery coaching me via Zoe, I think back to how Josh talked me through placing the QuTap on Patrick’s computer, how he was there with me every step of the way. Suddenly, my chest feels heavy and it’s a little hard to breathe.

  Once I walk through this door, I’ll be totally and completely alone.

  “One more thing,” she adds.

  “Yeah?”

  “If someone tries to grab you or anything, use this.” She flashes me a grin as she pulls out a miniature bottle of OC spray from her back pocket. “Avery wanted you to have it. She says it’s potent, but won’t do any real long-term damage.”

  “Thanks.” My hands shake a little when I take it from her.

  “Good luck,” she says.

  I put up my hood, dart toward the side of the building, and hold Giblin’s custom passcard over the lockpad near the door for a full ten seconds.

  Then the door magically slides open, and I’m in.

  Unlike the grand entrance to Orexis, with its soaring ceiling and heavily guarded reception desk, this lobby is stark—there’s just a black mat on a marble floor, and one solitary elevator facing me, against the opposite wall. I walk across the lobby and swipe the passcard through the scanner. The doors open and I enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fiftieth floor as I tuck the passcard and Zoe’s tab in my pocket.

  When the doors close, the space feels so small, almost like I’m in a brightly lit coffin. There are no mirrors on the walls, just white panels, and although it’s a smooth ride, the elevator car moves much slower than the ones in the main building.

  Flashes of heat creep up the back of my neck. I try to busy myself by pulling out Zoe’s tab and toying with its video function. Oddly enough, it’s the same model as the one Patrick bought for me the other day. I wonder if he expects me to show up here, since I’m sure he’s heard about my escape from the hospital. I know he thinks he was acting in my best interests, but I’m still hurt that he didn’t believe me.

  But if he’s here, I’ll deal with him. I know what his intentions are now, and there’s no way I’m letting him take me back to the hospital.

  My fingers swipe across the touchpad, but they’re trembling, and the tab isn’t responding well to my commands. Like Zoe said, aside from the semiconductor card, this tab is my best weapon against Orexis. I have to know how to operate it by the time I get into that lab. I try again, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to figure it out. I start to spiral into full-blown panic mode, but then I breathe in deep. I have to pull it together.

  With only five floors left, I try to give myself a pep talk.

  I’m the only one who can do this.

  There isn’t anyone else.

  I can’t fail my dad now.

  A rush of cold air blows through a vent in the ceiling, knocking my hood back and sending my hair flying. It makes me shiver and yet it rejuvenates me, kind of like a brisk shower. With my nerves temporarily frozen and my fears numbed, I look at the tab again, channeling the same determination I felt when I snuck into Patrick’s office with the QuTap. When I’m done studying the video app, I reach into my right pocket and grip the semiconductor passcard tightly, knowing without a doubt that I’m going to succeed.

  This is exactly how my dad wanted me and the other survivors to feel before going to battle in Etherworld.

  The elevator comes to a stop, and the second I step out into the hall I’m inhaling the strong scent of cleaning fluids. I pause, looking in either direction to see if anyone is waiting in ambush. But the floor seems empty. Still, Zoe said Avery couldn’t get to the cameras inside the building, so the quiet doesn’t mean the security guards aren’t aware I’m here.

  I have to be quick.

  I begin to walk, glancing at the numbers above the doors. Everything seems clean and new: the floor tiles and ceiling all made of white, marble-looking glass that practically sparkles with my reflection. The heels of the boots I borrowed from Zoe click along the floor as I veer toward the corner,
moving faster and faster, the thought of being reunited with my dad spurring me on.

  I pull out the semiconductor passcard, getting ready. I’m practically running now. 5010, 5012 . . .

  I whip around the corner, and stop.

  Cathryn is here, walking right toward me, wearing a slim-fitting red suit and typing something on her tab, her pale-blond hair tucked behind her ears. I didn’t expect her here this early. I know from Patrick that she usually doesn’t make it to her office until after the massive crush of the seven a.m. commute.

  I shove my hand back into my pocket, hiding the passcard. She looks up from her tab and comes to a halt, her perfectly shaped eyebrows arching in confusion. “Regan? What are you doing here?”

  Behind her is room 5020, the numbers etched in the glass above the door.

  There hasn’t been a lot of time to think about what I might say to Cathryn if I ever ran into her again, but I don’t think I could have predicted that I would actually just stand in front of her and draw a complete blank. I don’t know why I’m this stunned. Maybe it’s because now that she’s only a few feet away from me, I see a woman I’ve known my entire life—someone who made me popcorn on sleepovers, and held my hand during my dad’s memorial service.

  The mother of my best friend.

  “I need to get into that room.”

  Cathryn stands there frozen for a second, taken aback by my demanding tone. Her lips twitch a little, like she’s annoyed that she has to deal with me right now, and then she corrects herself, her face softening a bit.

  “Why? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  I hesitate, my other hand retreating into the pocket with the OC bottle.

  “I saw my dad in Elusion. He told me—he said he’s in room fifty-twenty,” I say, still struggling to find the right words.

  She clutches her tab to her chest, staring at me like I’m some kind of basket case. “I don’t understand. You saw . . . your dad?”

  Her “playing dumb” act snaps me out of my confusion, unleashing a geyser of anger within me. How can she look me in the eye and pretend? After everything she’s put my family through and the lies she’s told and all the people she’s placed in danger?