Numbers Ascending

by Rebecca Rode

  “Fates. I’m making conversation. I couldn’t care less what you and your family do.”

  “I doubt that. You followed me here—”

  “I did not follow you.”

  “—and then you followed me around the lab, waiting for the lights to turn off. Now you’re prying for information. As if I would tell you anything.”

  I placed myself in her path, blocking her exit. “My being here has absolutely nothing to do with you. Okay?”

  “Prove it.”

  “Fine. I need the money.”

  It had slipped out without my permission. I mentally kicked myself, unsure why I was bothered by the admission. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Maybe that was part of the problem.

  Legacy looked taken aback. “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Money. It’s this thing that ensures we can survive. Food, shelter, clothing, and the like. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I know more about it than you think.”

  I pinned her with a cold glare. “I doubt that.”

  “Look.” She sighed. “As fun as it is to argue with you, I really just want to be left alone. Give me space, and I won’t push you anymore. Assuming you give me the same respect.”

  “Done. No questions. Just do me a favor and don’t wander the hallways late at night.”

  I expected a sharp retort, but the fight seemed to have left her. She watched me for a long moment. With more light, I knew her green eyes would be piercing my own. Reading, probing, digging into my soul like they had during our after-school conversation.

  Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “I shouldn’t wander at night because you want the hallways all to yourself or because you’re the gallant type and you actually care?”

  The question was genuine enough. I hesitated before responding. Her late-night explorations would complicate my mission here. Keeping my secrets was hard enough without a Hawking trying to pry into my life.

  But at the core, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Legacy Hawking, either. It wasn’t her fault Daddy Hawking refused to improve living conditions for a third of his citizens. For all I knew, she was a normal teenager trying to live a normal life away from a very abnormal family. In that way, we were alike.

  As much as I tried to suppress it, the intrigue surfaced again. I’d spoken to her only three times and already knew what most people didn’t. Legacy was a fascinating combination of confidence without cockiness, beauty without self-obsession, and unexpected wit. If our families weren’t mortal enemies, I would have enjoyed an accidental nighttime meeting or two.

  I shifted my feet, bothered by the thought. “I’ll let you wonder about that,” I muttered and increased my pace.

  She said nothing more.

  My roommate, Lars, was still up when I got back. Quiet kid, a little creepy. Probably a gamer considering how long he’d spent on the IM-NET today. We’d barely exchanged two words while dropping off our belongings earlier, which was exactly how I preferred it. Now he sat on his bed, one leg extended and staring at the wall with a dazed expression.

  When I closed the door, his eyes focused and he straightened. “There you are.”

  I grabbed my bag, which I’d carelessly left on my bed, and tossed it underneath. The pockets were still secured, but that didn’t mean they were untouched. A stupid mistake. “You don’t need to wait up for me.”

  “I didn’t. I’m used to staying up till three. Doesn’t look like that will bother you.” He raised an eyebrow at the bag I’d just dumped on the floor. “You aren’t going to unpack?”

  “No point.” I only had two spare shirts and an extra pair of trousers, none of which would be needed with our fancy blue tech uniforms. I hadn’t tried mine on yet. I had the rest of my life for that, thanks to good ol’ Uncle Dane.

  “Is it true you went to Legacy Hawking’s school?”

  I groaned inwardly. So much for keeping to himself. “Yup.”

  “You two friends?”

  I snorted.

  He leaned back against the wall. “That’s right. You’re from the Shadows. I’m surprised they let you in here at all with how paranoid Hawking is these days.”

  I grunted, hoping he’d take the hint, and removed my shoes. They were nearly worn through. I couldn’t decide if Neuromen-issued shoes would be a relief or a nuisance.

  “I bet Legacy’s as clueless about real life as her dad. Did you see her wander off during the tour today? I thought the escort’s head would blow right open.”

  “Tell me about you,” I interrupted, ready to talk about anything but Legacy Hawking right now. “Where’re you from, your family, all the usual questions.”

  He saw right through it. “You don’t like talking about her. Interesting.”

  “There are plenty of other things to talk about. Things that actually matter.” I plopped down on my bed. It was harder than Uncle Dane’s mattress at home, but the bed frame was a nice change.

  “You’re a Firebrand then.”

  I scowled. If he’d dug that deep already, I definitely should have taken my duffel bag with me earlier. “Most from the Shadows are.”

  “Do you have the tattoo?”

  No use lying. The guy would see it eventually. I pulled my T-shirt down, noting that the skin was still a fierce pink. “Got it last night.”

  “No way.” He scrambled off his mattress to take a closer look. “A round flame?”

  “The Undiscerning Sun. It’s symbolic of the kind of country we want but don’t have yet, a place where everyone has the same opportunity to excel.”

  Lars continued to stare. Definitely creepy. I released my shirt collar, letting the fabric fall over the sensitive skin once again.

  He just looked thoughtful. “Is it that bad in the Shadows, then?”

  “Worse. Housing is expensive. Jobs don’t pay well, and since we’re locked into our career of choice, bosses can treat their employees however they want. Something the Hawkings didn’t think about when they set up their little utopia, and they aren’t listening when we point out the problem.” I shrugged. “But we’re trying to change things peacefully.”

  “And if that doesn’t work, you’ll change them by force.”

  It wasn’t a question I wanted to answer. I decided to let Lars think what he liked. “I’d appreciate it if you could keep all this quiet.”

  “Sure. I’ve actually considered taking the oath myself. I’ve always wanted to stun someone in real life.” He lifted an invisible weapon and pretended to aim it at my chest.

  We didn’t give stunners to new recruits, but I didn’t tell him so. “Any idea what’s in store tomorrow? Sounds like there’s testing the next few days.”

  “Yep. Full day of exams tomorrow, probably to make sure we’re all qualified. Bet Legacy Hawking won’t even make it past dinnertime. Can’t wait to see Virgil make her a receptionist in a skanky little skirt.”

  Resentment gripped my chest at that, even though it was the type of joke I might have laughed at weeks ago. “You never know. She seems decently smart.”

  A smile tugged at his mouth. “What does that matter?”

  I rolled my eyes, swiped some soap, and headed for the washroom. “The schedule said something about fitness testing.”

  “Day after tomorrow. Not sure why our physical fitness matters.” He climbed back onto his bed. His irises turned a pale-pink color once more. Back to the game.

  Relieved, I reviewed the week’s schedule again before dismissing it. I wasn’t worried about any of the exams, but being scheduled every minute of the day would make it hard to explore unnoticed. If Neuromen considered fitness a priority, maybe I could switch my daily running schedule to nighttime.

  Maybe Legacy will be out again.

  I shook my head, willing the unruly thought out of my head for good. Legacy was a distraction I didn’t need, now or ever. Especially with my mother lying in a hospital bed, her fate unknown and entirely dependent upon how I spent my time here. I would discover what that i
mplant update did. I would pass the information along to Dane and buy freedom for Mom and myself.

  Just then, a message arrived from Ned Harris, Uncle Dane’s alias. I opened it, froze, and deleted it immediately.

  I’M WAITING.

  Nine

  Legacy

  I woke to the sound of whimpering. The clock read 05:16.

  Rolling over, I found Millian lying still in her bed across the room. A faint glow beneath the door from the hallway’s emergency lights was barely enough to find the outline of her face. It was scrunched in agony. Her black lashes fluttered against her dark cheeks.

  I watched her, unsure what to do. Was she sick or just having a nightmare? If I woke her, she’d sooner attack me than thank me.

  Slowly, I swung my legs over the mattress and leaned over to sweep the hair away from her wet cheeks. Not sweat but tears. She was crying in her sleep—a feat I’d once believed impossible until I’d experienced it for myself over the past year.

  “Shh,” I whispered. “It’s okay.”

  Another whimper tore from her mouth, but her breathing had already begun to slow. A stab of guilt hit me about our conversation yesterday. I knew little about her other than her speech about taking Virgil’s job someday. I’d been too irritated about my own accommodations to recognize that Millian might be just as uncomfortable with our new home.

  I sorted through my implant files and pulled up an early capture of my parents when they were engaged at age twenty-six. Dad held Mom on his back, her head hanging back in delighted laughter, arms wrapped around his shoulders to keep from slipping off. It was informal, casual, and very much not Dad. Mom had a way of igniting joy in him.

  Had people called her a science nerd too? Or had they seen her as smart, bursting with potential, and determined? Had Mom intended to take Virgil’s job someday? To wrench the world into a better version of itself armed with pure science?

  That was my problem, I realized. Jealousy. It wasn’t that Millian had earned her place here, necessarily. It was that she knew who she was and what she wanted.

  I was only here to chase the ghost of someone I loved—someone my roommate resembled more than myself.

  Using the corner of her blanket, I gently wiped her cheeks. She mumbled in her sleep and rolled over, nightmare forgotten. In the dim green light coming from the hallway, something on the inner skin of her wrist caught my eye. Tiny scratches, like she’d fallen out of a tree or had a run-in with a feral cat. Except these scratches were too long and neat, like old railroad tracks. One looked darker than the others. A fresh wound. There had to be a razor blade hidden among her belongings.

  My heart squeezed. As pulled together as she seemed, Millian was broken too. Maybe even more than I was.

  Perhaps having her for a roommate wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

  I climbed back into bed, resolving to attempt a real conversation with Millian tomorrow. Then I pulled the blankets up to my chin and did something I hadn’t done in a very long time. I allowed myself to remember.

  Mom still wasn’t back from work when dinnertime came. Dad insisted we wait for her. She often walked in thirty or forty minutes late, apologizing that she’d lost track of time, her hair only half contained in its bun and a faraway look in her eyes. Dad always said we couldn’t blame her for loving her work.

  But that night was different.

  Half an hour passed, then one hour, and finally two. I wasn’t sure whether it was Alex’s complaining or Dad’s premonition that something was wrong that made him finally agree to let us eat without her. While Alex shoveled down his food, Dad and I picked at ours as we watched the door. I must have pulled up her location on the IM-NET a dozen times, watching her transport close the distance between work and home in an agonizingly slow manner.

  We were nearly done when she walked in. Her bun was once again askew, but there was no brightness in her eyes tonight. Instead, she looked like a woman who’d lost someone she loved.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, but Dad simply rose to his feet and wrapped her in his arms. They stood there like that for at least a minute. I remember how tightly his hand clung to her back, as if refusing to let her pull away. When she finally did, there was resignation in her face.

  I left my light on that night. It was our code—it meant I wanted to talk with Mom about something. Without fail, she would creep in and sit on my bed, softly stroking my face to wake me if I had fallen asleep. Our talks often lasted an hour or longer. We discussed school, boys, even the aspects of work she was allowed to talk about. I invented questions I knew the answers to just to keep her there longer. Once I descended into soft slumber, she’d turn off the light and sneak out.

  But that night, neither of us had much to say. I couldn’t tell her about Derik the ex-boyfriend. She couldn’t tell me what had kept her at work. After a moment of staring at everything in the room but each other, she’d asked a single question. I was too tired, too absorbed in my own day, and too troubled by her odd behavior to notice how her eyes clung to me as I formed a reply.

  It wasn’t the question, but my answer that haunted me most.

  A buzzer sounded in my ear, tearing the offending memory away. The morning alarm.

  The memory slipped away like mist. An unfamiliar ceiling greeted me as I forced my eyes open. Millian’s bed was empty, blankets thrown askew. The sound of running water could be heard through the closed washroom door.

  I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Last night’s trip to the garden had yielded nothing new. It was like the graffiti had never existed, nor the blood on the floor. Nothing but the clean white Virgil preferred. Then my exploring had resulted in an uncomfortable conversation with a Firebrand rather than answers. All I knew was that some kind of cover-up had occurred. If there was a link to Mom’s death, I had to find it.

  Three facts remained. First, Mom had gone to work the next day and never returned. Second, I hadn’t stopped her.

  Third, I should have stopped her.

  The worst part were the lies my heart whispered, like solving the mystery about Mom’s death meant that I would find her at last. That I could bring her home and everything would be normal again. That she would forgive me for my carelessness and we could all move on as a family.

  My brain inevitably pulled me down to reality. It was like Alex had said. Mom was gone and wasn’t coming back.

  At the corner of my swimming vision, the day’s schedule icon appeared. I wiped my eyes on a sleeve and steeled myself for what lay ahead.

  My first day of testing had begun.

  Ten

  Legacy

  Later that morning, I sat back in my chair, dismissing the exam screen with three quick blinks. Done. I’d recognized terms here and there, but the questions hadn’t made much sense. Frustration solidified in my stomach. If anyone doubted I belonged here, today’s results would clinch it. My understanding of basic science was average, but nobody else in this room fit that description. Was there a position even lower than lab assistant?

  If only I’d thought to brush up on my physics.

  Across the room, Millian scowled as she finished and dismissed the display on her eye screen. Her expression gave me a twinge of hope. Maybe it was difficult for everyone.

  Kole was the only other person in the room who’d finished early. He sat, too relaxed, looking around the room and examining every face as if looking for something. His eyes drifted right over me like I was a stranger.

  Good. I had no desire to befriend a Firebrand no matter how good he looked in his dark-blue Neuromen uniform. He adjusted his collar as if uncomfortable. Was it because he now wore a new sun tattoo under the golden stripe across his chest?

  The last boy stirred a few minutes later, the pink in his eyes fading away. Done.

  A second later, Soren entered wearing the same tight bun and stern expression as yesterday. “Thank you. You may return to the cafeteria for lunch, followed by another round of testing at 14:00. You may visit the common rooms or
walk the grounds before then, but please stay out of the lab wing. Our scientists have set their usual priorities aside to sort your test results today. Your standings will be posted later.” She left the second she finished talking.

  I checked the time. Nearly two hours to spare. Perfect.

  I stopped by the garden on the way to the lab wing, hoping I’d missed something in the dark last night. The wall and floor were as clean as ever. Hopefully the labs held a new clue.

  A blinking light caught my attention as I turned to leave—a ceiling camera, trained directly on the graffiti wall. Had they installed the camera long ago and the artist hadn’t noticed? Or was its installation in response to the event, an attempt to discourage the artist from repeating the deed?

  I recalled yesterday’s bloodstain and grimaced. Whoever the artist was, they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

  Mom’s lab was locked tight when I arrived.

  I’d been in this wing before, two years earlier, on a family visitation day. Mom had been her usual calm self, but she couldn’t hide the light in her eyes. She was proud of her work. I remembered bouncing on my toes in anticipation of seeing her mysterious project as she unlocked the door. But when the door opened, there was nothing to see. No trace of anything interesting. Just a regular lab with an oversized steel table and a desk in the corner.

  “It isn’t ready yet,” she’d explained, giving me a wink. “I’ll show it to you someday. I just have to work out some issues first.”

  She’d never said what “it” was, and Dad wouldn’t answer my questions. It wasn’t his place, he said. I suspected her silence also had something to do with her contract. If this experiment was as groundbreaking as she made it seem, they wouldn’t want anyone to discover it until the right moment.

  That moment never came. The explosion had taken both Mom and her experiment away forever.

  I leaned back against the door for support and drew a deep, slow breath. Standing here, so close to the place she’d spent her last moments, made the pain return tenfold. This was a bad idea. The fire had taken everything with it, along with most of the lab wing. All this had been recently rebuilt. My knees trembled, struggling to keep me upright.