Numbers Ascending

by Rebecca Rode

  Our escort tapped her way to the front of the group and placed herself next to a darkened window. Sometime between leaving the ceremony and our arrival, she’d pulled her blonde hair into a bun so tight it pinched her eyes. I blinked as a few paragraphs of small white text appeared on the dark glass. A techboard. CONTRACT was visible at the top in bold letters.

  “Welcome, our fourteen newest additions to the program,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Soren, your escort and friend. Forgive the red tape. Even visitors sign the board, and our recruits—or candidates, as we call them—are far more important than visitors.” A strained smile. “Legacy Hawking, our most recognizable candidate. Would you lead us off?”

  I swept up to the board, pretended to skim through it, and used my finger to create my signature icon at the bottom—a circle with five connecting lines in the center for my family’s crest, then a swiggle to the right ending in a circle. I’d designed the icon at age four, thinking it looked like a magic wand. Now I preferred to think of it as a rising full moon.

  Millian, who’d waited impatiently for me to finish, was the next to step up. She signed a series of circles with a flourish, then turned and flashed the crowd a triumphant smile.

  Kole avoided my gaze as he stepped up to the board next. After his wretched behavior on the transport, I tried not to act too interested in his icon as he lifted his finger to sign. A boxed-in letter C with a spiky design in the bottom right corner. A plant? Not at all what I’d expected from a Firebrand. Surely there should have been a flame full of swords or something equally dramatic.

  I recognized the others from the broadcast I’d watched on the way here, all students with a strong science or technology background. Graduates Virgil actually wanted here. A worm in a gull’s mouth described this moment perfectly.

  When all the graduates had signed, Soren unlocked the door. A simple implant-sensitive lock, though from the electric sound inside the door, its mechanism was anything but simple. I stepped through, eager to see a part of the lab I’d never accessed before.

  The door led to a long, bright hallway. Sunlight filtered by small, square windows gave the white walls an odd, almost pink hue despite the glass’s greenish tint—neoglass, a modern alternative to the breakable kind. Soren set a quick pace for the opposite end, an admirable feat considering the speech she was launching into. Something about the history of the lab and Director Virgil’s impressive accomplishments.

  I glanced outside as I passed the third window and drew to a stop. A beautiful garden lay outside, though that wasn’t what caught my eye. I’d seen plenty of gardens. Behind a tree, partially hidden by branches, stood a wide wall with angry black writing. Workers were scrubbing it off. Graffiti at a science lab?

  I squinted, trying to make out the words. Only portions were visible.

  Your lies

  Will see that

  Revenge

  Excitement sent my heart racing. This was exactly the kind of thing I’d expected to find here, and we hadn’t even reached our quarters yet. I needed a closer look. Given Soren’s pace, she knew about it and didn’t want us lingering. That meant I had to be very careful not to get caught.

  The others were two-thirds of the way down the hallway now, all riveted on the back of Soren’s head. She gestured grandly with one hand. Whatever story she was currently telling, she was completely absorbed in it.

  There. A door leading outside stood partially ajar, propped open with a bucket of cleaning supplies.

  I slid through the opening, blinking in the afternoon sunlight. Two workers dressed in gray janitorial uniforms scrubbed at the wall, chatting in low tones.

  I slipped into the shadow of a tree. The workers would see me if they turned around, but at least I was out of sight of that hallway full of fake glass windows.

  Pulse hammering, I scurried behind a second tree and then a third, getting closer with each. The first worker had begun to scrub away the word “revenge.” My eyes slid to their boots. A blackened can of spray paint lay on the ground. Next to it was a dark smear of red paint.

  I squinted. No, that wasn’t paint. It had to be—

  “Miss Hawking?”

  I jumped and turned to see Soren standing in the middle of the garden, one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes?” I croaked.

  Her eyes swept the wall but kept going, as if she wanted to pretend nothing was amiss. “There will be time to tour this section later. We haven’t programmed any locks with your implant signature yet. You’d best remain with the group to avoid getting yourself locked out.”

  “Of course.” I threw one last glance at the wall to take a quick capture, then hurried past her, feeling my cheeks redden. Did Director Virgil know about the graffiti? Surely such a self-important man made it his business to know. Then again, he’d been oblivious to Mom’s experiment before she died. Or at least that’s what he’d insisted that night.

  Mom was not only dead, he’d told us, but her body had been obliterated in the explosion, nothing left to cremate.

  The rest of the group whispered at the end of the hallway as they watched me approach. Kole’s eyes lingered the longest as Soren resumed her place at the head of the group and continued her story.

  I barely heard it. I wasn’t supposed to see that graffiti, and that made it absolutely my business. But it wasn’t the message that made my blood race.

  That red smear on the floor hadn’t been paint. I was certain of it.

  An hour later, after a lecture about the company’s rules and expectations, we were sized for new uniforms—not the gray of the workers’ clothing, but a deep blue and sporting a gold band across the chest and back—and separated into bunk rooms. I chose the farthest one down the ladies’ hall. It stood empty except for two narrow metal beds and a dresser. No sofa. They didn’t expect us to do any lounging, it seemed. On the far end of the room was a washroom barely the size of a small closet.

  “Welcome to your new life,” I muttered, for once missing my designer bedroom and its hideous furniture.

  A new icon appeared in my vision. It outlined the rules again and included a new section on the hierarchy of Neuromen. It was as I’d suspected—there weren’t enough scientist positions for all of us. Over half would be assigned assistant positions while only the top five moved on to official neurotech training. Our test results during the next week would determine who went where.

  Feeling uneasy, I pulled up today’s schedule in a separate icon. Dinner in fifteen minutes, then leisure time in the New Recruit lounge. Testing began tomorrow. I squirmed at that. Even if I knew what to study, it wouldn’t do me much good now. I hadn’t really expected to climb ranks in the company, but I didn’t want to sink to the bottom, either.

  I changed into my stiff new uniform, put my clothes away as neatly as they would fit, then plopped onto the hard bed with a grimace.

  I pulled up the graffiti capture and grimaced at its poor quality. Regardless, the hurried black words and that red bloodstain screamed against the whiteness surrounding them. The real question was, who was behind the message and what had happened to them? Stunners didn’t make a person bleed. New NORA hadn’t allowed a weapon that fired bullets in decades. That meant someone could have been stabbed or beaten here. Maybe killed.

  I scanned the news reports again without success. No mention of an incident at Neuromen at all. Just the graduates’ Declarations today. It was certain, then. Whatever had happened, Virgil wasn’t talking.

  The bedroom door opened to reveal Millian, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Her smile froze at the sight of me. “Right. Not happening.” She stepped back into the hall and slammed the door.

  I stared at the door in irritation. Part of me wanted to fling it open and demand she come back and apologize. But that would defeat the whole not-wanting-a-roommate thing.

  A few minutes later, the door opened again, a frustrated Millian shoving through it and tossing her bag onto the other bed. Then she stalked into the washroom and close
d the door behind her, more gently this time.

  “Um,” I said. Her bag taunted me from the other bed. “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s what I said,” she called from the washroom. “Except there are no more open beds. I’d rather sleep in the hall.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll toss a blanket out there for you.”

  “Nope,” she said through the door. “I’m good here. I think the washroom is cleaner than the bedroom anyway.”

  “You intruded first.”

  “And you’ll eventually need to intrude on my washroom, so we’d better work out some kind of arrangement.”

  A voice came over the speaker. “All new volunteers, report to the cafeteria in five minutes.”

  I folded my arms. “They’re calling you, nerd.”

  She emerged from the washroom. “Nope. The moment I leave, you’ll throw my stuff out. We’re leaving together, oh, buddy of mine.” Her medium brown face looked flushed, but by the determined set of her mouth, it wasn’t embarrassment. She didn’t like this arrangement any better than I did.

  “We aren’t done discussing this,” I told her.

  She just rolled her eyes.

  Millian did end up leaving first, but only barely. She kept a close eye on me, as if she really did believe I’d run back to the room and toss her junk out. I had to admit it was tempting. But her implant would be registered to the lock too. She was just as likely to throw my stuff out.

  I looped around to the garden to search for more clues on my way to the cafeteria, but Soren stood at the entrance to the long hallway. She smirked at my attempt to look casual as I circled back to the cafeteria. Everything was likely to be cleaned up by now anyway. I’d have to find another lead.

  Dinner was—no surprise—fake meat and vegetables that tasted like they’d taken a chemical bath. I sat at the farthest table from the others and concentrated on not vomiting and, most definitely, not looking at Kole. A few sets of eyes glanced curiously at me, but nobody crossed the room. Millian sat as far from my table as possible. Fine by me.

  I swallowed, scooped another bite of whatever this was into my mouth, and pulled up the news feeds. An offshoot Firebrands group in West Salem, a city near the border of New NORA and Malrain, had staged a protest outside their city offices today. They complained about having more than their fair share of uninvited graduates. Dad ensured there were always positions in the farming industry and the military, but most weren’t thrilled about either. Many of the protestors carried signs about wanting the Rating system back.

  I wanted to understand their reasoning, but their solution was one I strongly disagreed with. In too many ways, the old NORA Rating system was still hard-wired into people’s brains. Many complained that their children were hungrier than ever, that they struggled to find jobs and housing that fit their fixed incomes. The protests had gotten bigger and more violent in recent months. All the while, Dad released statements about appreciating our freedom and filed their complaints away for later.

  Mom would have listened to them. Of that I was sure. She wouldn’t have reinstated the controlling regime they wanted, but she would have listened and sympathized. Yet it was Dad, not Mom, in the Copper Office.

  I felt guilty at the thought. I didn’t resent Dad for being the parent who remained, but I did resent how distant we’d grown. When we did speak, he felt like a stranger who buried himself in work to avoid feeling anything at all. Better to avoid what remained of his family than recognize that it was now incomplete.

  But here, I felt closer to Mom than ever. I looked around the cafeteria and tried to imagine her sitting here on her first day. Had she come determined to make a difference in the world? To invent something that would solve society’s problems? To leave a legacy everyone would remember?

  If she’d known how it all would turn out, would she still have chosen this?

  I tossed what remained of my food and headed back to the room, my determination set. Soren couldn’t block that hallway forever. When night fell, I would try again. Then I would explore this place until I knew every centimeter of it.

  My official investigation had begun.

  Eight

  Kole

  Nothing about the lab’s layout was a surprise, except maybe the center garden. The greenery, combined with its wet-dirt smell and misted air, clashed with the sterile whiteness of Neuromen’s little utopia.

  Four evenly spaced wings extended from the halls leading to the garden—the candidate dorm and cafeteria wing, a second wing for the scientists, the lab wing, and a fourth with an unmarked door. I imagined the building looked like a giant snowflake from the air. Only the unmarked wing remained locked when I approached, refusing to reveal its secrets.

  A tiny red light blinked overhead. Another camera. They hung in every hallway, but this particular corridor held two. It wouldn’t surprise me if there were hidden ones too.

  Virgil’s wing, then. His secret project lie somewhere behind this door.

  I gave the entry a sweeping glance, trying not to look too interested for the camera’s sake. Just a simple candidate exploring his new home. Nothing to worry about.

  The door had been painted to resemble the rest, but its too-even surface revealed this one was reinforced. There would be no busting through with sheer force. No visible mechanism or mechanical lock at all, which was consistent with everything else here. It made sense that Virgil would rely on the technology he’d invented. Nobody got through without implant access.

  I turned and headed back to the candidate wing, my mind already picking the problem apart. Virgil kept us newbies separate from the rest, which meant it would be difficult to find someone with the authorization to get past this door—let alone convince them to bring me along.

  An outdoor entrance, then. There were emergency exits all over this place. Virgil would never leave himself without a means of escape should fire break out, particularly after what had happened with Legacy’s mom. They said that half a wing had burned before officials got it under control. Frankly, Virgil was lucky that the other scientists had escaped at all.

  I’d just passed the cafeteria to my left when the lights went out. Nightly electricity mandate—a way of life for those from the Shadows. Apparently Hawking had inflicted his stupid energy rules upon the lab, too. Better to remove power from the poor and businesses than use it wisely during the day. Getting rid of all those stupid ad boards would have been a great place to start.

  A groan sounded from inside the cafeteria doors.

  I froze, then plastered myself against the wall. Stupid. I hadn’t considered the possibility that Virgil might send someone to follow me.

  A feminine voice muttered some not-so-feminine words, and I felt a grin cross my face. Legacy Hawking. She probably hadn’t experienced a blackout mandate in her entire life.

  “Midnight snack?” I asked.

  I heard her emerge from the doors, following my voice. “Something like that.”

  “I doubt anyone is in the kitchens this time of night.”

  She muttered another curse and began walking away, probably feeling her way along the wall. “I suppose you were just getting exercise.”

  “Something like that.”

  She hit a wall and grunted.

  “You know,” I began, determined to enjoy this, “you could wait until the backup lights come on. It should happen any second.”

  “Stand here in the dark with you? My dream come true.”

  “You didn’t really assume Neuromen’s lights would stay on for you all night.” I paused. “I take that back. It sounds exactly like something a rich heiress would expect.”

  “And following a rich heiress around a dark lab at night, spewing taunts at her, is exactly what I’d expect from a Firebrand. You really have nothing better to do?”

  “I did, but watching you run into walls is much more fun.”

  Tiny green lights appeared along the floor, illuminating the edges of the hallway like a long carpet. Legacy�
�s slender legs were visible now, as was her startled stance. She’d assumed I was lying about the backup lights.

  I strode past her, wishing I could see the resentment in her face. Before reaching the corner, I turned. “You coming?”

  “Where?”

  “I’m walking you back to your room. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  She folded her arms, her tone dangerous. “Yet it’s okay for you. Because you’re a big, tough Firebrand and all.”

  “You don’t know enough about the people who work here, princess.” It was no bluff. I’d looked up the profiles of every single neurotech worker I could find, trying to determine who Dane’s missing spy had been, and discovered a few suspicious identities in the process. None were people I’d want Legacy meeting alone in a dark hallway. “If something happens to me, nobody will cry about it. But hey, if you want to wander around in the dark by yourself, be my guest.”

  She hesitated.

  “Fine.” I shrugged and started to walk away.

  She trotted up behind me. “For the record, I’d rather be alone than surrounded by hundreds of people. It just . . . doesn’t happen often for me.”

  There was a rare note of vulnerability in her voice. I tried not to act surprised. “Daddy a little overprotective?”

  She snorted. I waited, hoping another expletive would escape her lips, but she said nothing more.

  Silence filled the hallways around us for several minutes. As we approached the women’s section of the wing, I spoke. “I’m surprised your dad let you come, with your Mom and all.”

  “He didn’t have a choice.”

  “That’s what this is about, then. Proving a point, showing your dad who’s in charge. Hurting him like only a daughter can.”

  She halted. The darkness veiled her expression, but her voice was like a jagged diamond. “You know nothing about my life, Firebrand. Don’t presume you do.”