Unchanged

by Jessica Brody

  “I remember,” I mutter.

  She gives the sign to Klo. His fingertip swipes across the screen, activating the cam. Kaelen, Raze, and Dr. A all sit up a little straighter at the sound of the small ding that announces the connection.

  “Sera!” Kaelen calls out. I’ve never heard such fear in his voice. Such angst. I feel like the mass of the moon has been dropped into my lap. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  I keep my right hand resting on my leg. With the other, I raise the trembling script and begin to read. I fight to keep my words steady and even.

  “‘My kidnappers are sending this transmission as a show of good faith and innocuous intentions. And to prove to you that I’m still alive and not injured.’”

  “Tell us where you are!” Kaelen screams at the cam. Dr. A puts a hand on his shoulder, attempting to relax him.

  My eyes dart nervously to Jase, who gives his gun a little bump.

  “She can’t,” Raze tells Kaelen. “She’s being threatened. I can see it in her eyes.”

  Dr. A turns his head and mouths something I can’t interpret, most likely a curse.

  I swallow and keep reading. “‘If you would like for me to return alive, a two-billion-dollar ransom must be transferred to the following bank account number in the next forty-eight hours.’”

  I pause, positioning my right hand in the center of my thigh and spreading my fingers. I try to make direct eye contact with Kaelen through the screen, urging him to pay close attention.

  My gaze darts to Paddok. She gestures for me to continue.

  As I slowly begin to read the account number on the page, I lift the fingers of my right hand ever so slightly, hovering them just above my leg.

  “7,” I announce slowly.

  Subtly, I press my thumb, middle finger, and pinkie into my pants. Like I’m playing a chord on a piano.

  “9.” I reveal the next number with delicate precision as my fingers rise back up, and my middle, ring, and pinkie fingers tap out another letter.

  I watch Paddok for any sign of suspicion, but she’s not focused on my hand. She’s focused on my lips. Making sure nothing spills out that’s not written on this piece of paper.

  I promised her I would read the script and say nothing else. And I’m keeping that promise. I’m not saying anything else.

  “4.” I announce the next number of the account. My thumb plays the imaginary keyboard on my leg.

  “1.”

  All five fingers come down. The sign for the letter P. I’ve now spelled out the first word in my message.

  I watch Kaelen’s face for a reaction. So far, I’ve yet to see one. Does he understand what I’m doing? Is he even looking at my hand? Or is he just smart enough to hide it?

  With the final numbers of the bank account, I’m able to spell out two more words.

  “0.”

  Tap.

  “2.”

  Tap.

  “2.”

  Tap.

  “3.”

  Tap.

  “8.”

  Tap.

  Director Raze is entering the account numbers into his Slate. Dr. A is seething quietly in his chair. And Kaelen remains as emotionless as a statue.

  Paddok nods toward the script, urging me to finish up.

  There’re only a few more lines to read and I still have two more words to silently convey. Up until now, I’ve been very slow and delicate with my finger movement, afraid that anything more might tip off one of the twenty-five people watching me. I have to pick up the pace if I want to communicate the final piece.

  “‘Once the money is transferred to the account,’” I say deliberately while I press down my thumb and forefinger, followed by my index finger, “‘I will be returned to the compound by way of hovercopter.’”

  Index, middle, ring, and pinkie.

  “‘You may take control of my hover as soon as it’s within Diotech airspace.’”

  Thumb, index, and pinkie.

  Only one more line to go. The movement of my fingers is fast but barely visible. Hardly a twitch.

  “‘Any failure to comply with their terms…’”

  Thumb.

  All five fingers.

  Thumb.

  “‘And I will be killed…’”

  Thumb, index, middle, ring.

  “‘On live Feed.’”

  I watch Kaelen leap up from his chair, lunging toward me. He slams his fist hard against the wall screen, causing my view to rattle. “You glitching bastard! I will kill you! I will desecrate you. If you hurt her, I swear, I will hunt you down and rip your heart out of your chest.”

  Raze is out of his seat, attempting to restrain Kaelen, but he’s beyond restraint now. He’s snapped. The rage has been triggered. There will be no controlling him for a long time. It’s exactly the reaction that landed me here.

  It’s not that I blame him for this predicament, but right now I need him to help us get out of it. I need him to calm down and look at me. Notice what I’m trying to tell him.

  Paddok pokes Klo in the arm, indicating the end of the script.

  I jab my fingers against my leg, rushing to spell out the last three letters in the message just as Klo cuts the transmission.

  “Clear,” he calls.

  Chatter recommences among the group as I breathe out a shuddering sigh. My entire body is shaking with fear and relief and, for the first time in two days, the tiniest glimmer of hope.

  I did it. I sent a warning to Diotech. It was all there. Played out by my trembling fingers.

  TRAP.

  BOMB.

  BUNKER.

  JENZA PADDOK.

  It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t thorough but it was as clear a message as I was able to convey.

  Whether or not Kaelen received it is another story.

  47

  INSULTS

  As the hours tick by, the members of Paddok’s team grow more and more antsy. They gave Dr. A two days to transfer the money but no one seems entirely certain he’s going to do it. Except for Paddok. I hear her murmuring to people outside my tent, reassuring them of my value. “He’ll never allow her to die on live Feed. Never.”

  I’m fairly convinced Paddok is bluffing. I don’t think she’ll actually go through with a public assassination. I’d like to think I have enough supporters here to prevent that from happening. Lyzender would never allow me to be killed, would he? Even if his feelings for me were a sham, would he really want to see me die?

  And what about Sevan? Doesn’t he care about me on some level? Was his kindness all an act, too?

  And finally there’s Klo. I don’t know much about him but he doesn’t seem to despise me the way the others do. He wouldn’t vote for me to be put to death, would he?

  As for the rest of the people here, I’m sure they’d pop champagne and throw a party on my grave. To them, I’m just an extension of the Diotech beast. Another sector of the compound. Chop it off and you have that much less beast to kill.

  In the end, two billion dollars to Diotech is nothing. A raindrop in a canyon. But if Kaelen was able to successfully translate my code, they’ll know that the ransom demand was just a ruse. A veiled scheme to get an undetectable device onto the compound.

  How they plan to do that, I still don’t know.

  What I do know is that if the message was conveyed, that ransom may not be paid. And I may very well die.

  If it wasn’t, Dr. A will transfer the money, I’ll be returned home, and everyone at Diotech could perish.

  Only time will tell at this point.

  And that makes time my worst enemy and my only friend.

  * * *

  That night, I’m invited by Paddok to join the group for evening meal. Apparently my good behavior during the transmission has earned me the right to sit with everyone else instead of being holed up in my tent alone.

  I can immediately tell from the glares as I walk back to the dining area that Paddok did not poll the rest of the camp before ext
ending the invitation. I try not to cringe at the smell of cooked meat that lingers from the fire pit in the center as I stand in line, waiting for Nem Rouser to dump a filet of unidentified dark red meat on my plate.

  I scan the tables set up around the fire pit for a place to sit. Lyzender and Xaria are nestled together at the nearest one. He looks rigid and uncomfortable as he eats, while she giggles and whispers things in his ear. When she catches me staring at them, she leans in and kisses his cheek.

  I roll my eyes and move to the table farthest away from them. As of right now, Klo Raze is the only one sitting there. I set my plate down and slide onto the bench across from him.

  He looks up, grins a dimpled boyish grin, and returns to devouring his meat.

  I’m going to have to ask Sevan for some more of those nutrition capsules after the meal is over.

  “Vegetarian?” Klo nods at my untouched food. He tears a strip from the rib in his hands and chews with his mouth open.

  “I prefer the synthetic variety,” I say quietly.

  “That stuff’ll kill you.”

  I shoot him a dubious look.

  “It’s true,” he vows, holding up red-stained fingers like he’s swearing an oath. “Nature didn’t intend for us to eat fake flux. Our bodies don’t know what to do with it.”

  “The synthetic meat is designed to be healthier for your body,” I argue. “Easier to digest. Enhanced with nutrients.”

  He chokes out a laugh. “You’re a walking Diotech commercial, aren’t you?”

  I fall silent. I suppose that did make me sound pretty brainwashed.

  He pulls another strip of flesh from the bone. “You see, when you mess with nature enough, there comes a point when it stops being good and starts being destructive.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” I ask.

  He sucks the rib bone clean and drops the bloody appendage onto my plate, even though there’s plenty of room on his own. I take that as a sign he’s not going to answer my question.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” I ask. “Who told them where the server bunker was?”

  He performs an awkward seated bow. “Snitch extraordinaire. At your service.”

  “Your father trusted you with that information.”

  His playfulness slips away. “My father never trusted me with anything. I learned a long time ago that if you want information, you have to find it yourself.”

  “And the transmission about the rooftop landing pad being under construction? You sent that.”

  He beams, revealing shreds of meat stuck between his teeth. “You’re welcome.”

  “That wasn’t a thank-you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he repeats, picking up his next rib and devouring it the way he did the first.

  “That farmer is dead because of what you did.”

  I expect my comment to sting. To elicit some kind of reaction from this boy. But it doesn’t. He sucks on the end of his bone. “No. That farmer is dead because of what you didn’t do.”

  I recoil. “Excuse me?”

  “You were the only one with the strength to stop Kaelen. Yet you did nothing. You just stood there.”

  “Actually,” I begin, growing flustered, “I don’t have the strength to stop Kaelen. He’s always been stronger than me.”

  “But you didn’t even try. Do you enjoy watching your boyfriend kick the living flux out of people?”

  “No.”

  “Then?”

  “I…” I stop when I realize that I don’t know the rest of the sentence.

  “You were scared,” he answers for me.

  I laugh. “No, I wasn’t.”

  “Sure you were.”

  “You don’t know me.” I pick at the smallest piece of meat on my plate, wondering if it tastes as foul as it smells.

  “I know enough,” he says, flicking a strand of blue hair from his face. “I saw you around that compound. I watched you for months. You were such a good little girl. So afraid of upsetting anyone, you wouldn’t even risk having a single thought of your own.”

  “That’s completely untrue,” I argue, even though the words feel lumpy and awkward on my tongue. I hide my discomfort by popping the morsel into my mouth and attempting to chew.

  “It is true. I saw the footage from the attack outside the Feed station. When Kaelen lost it. You looked like a … like a…”—Klo nods toward the meat on my plate—“well, probably a lot like this deer looked right before it was shot.”

  The soggy flesh in my mouth suddenly tastes like blood and I spit it out.

  The boy laughs. “You don’t even have the guts to eat a glitchin’ piece of meat.”

  I flounder for something to say in response, but all that comes out is, “I’m not a coward.”

  He cleans the last rib bone and tosses it down, sucking the juice off his fingers. “Look around you. The truth is right here in front of you. Carved into the faces of all these people. You’re so terrified that your precious Dr. A might be wrong—that your entire existence might be a big fat lie—that you refuse to see it. That is the very definition of a coward.”

  He stands and picks up his empty plate, delivering it to the bin of dirty dishes. For a moment I think he’s going to come back, call me more names, accuse me of more things, but he does something even worse. He walks away.

  His hasty departure surprises me at first, but my shock quickly slips into anger.

  Who does he think he is? He can’t just sit there and accuse me of being a coward and then leave without giving me the opportunity to defend myself.

  I leap from the bench. My voice is hoarse and raspy as I call out, “Hey!”

  When he spins around, that annoyingly smug grin is still plastered to his face.

  “What did I ever do to you?” I shout, causing a few people to stare. “I’ve never even met you!” I turn to address the rest of the onlookers. “Any of you! And you hate me. You treat me like a criminal. Because of where I come from. Because of who made me. And I’m the coward!? I can’t help being born in a lab any more than you can help being born outside of one. I’ve been nice. I’ve sat in that tent for hours pretending that what you’re planning to do to the only home I’ve ever known doesn’t devastate me. Well, you know what? I’m done being polite. You can all go to hell.”

  I stomp in the direction of my tent. But I’m slow and frail and Klo catches up with me easily, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to a stop.

  “What?” I growl.

  He’s going to insult me again. I can see it in his eyes. This argument is not over for him.

  “Look,” he says, his tone surprisingly mild. And quiet. As though he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “I know you’re not on our side and that’s fine. I don’t give a flux. But you at least need to be on his side.”

  I toss my hands up, exasperated. “Who?”

  But we both know who. Which is probably why he doesn’t say his name.

  “We practically grew up together on that compound. We used to be best friends. Then he left to be with you and I never saw him again. Until he showed up here, heartbroken and dangerously hopeful.

  “His whole glitchin’ life has been about you. About saving you. He was one of the smartest kids I knew. He could have been great. But he gave it all up for you. Don’t make his sacrifice be for nothing.”

  I swallow and look to the ground. The image of Xaria’s lips on his plays over and over again in my mind like one of Crest’s looping nanotats. “He didn’t love me,” I murmur to the dirt. “I was just a means to an end.”

  Klo’s grasp slips from my arm and I feel the blood rushing back to my fingers.

  Anger flashes on his face but it’s quickly replaced by a sad, withering smile. “That’s the most cowardly thing you’ve said yet.”

  48

  LEGACY

  I wait for the camp to fall asleep. I wait for the sounds of footsteps to disappear completely. Then I grab my lantern and tiptoe into the night. No one has bothered to lock me up a
gain. I’ve proven to be a good little hostage. Sticking to the script, not trying to run away anymore, making conversation with my captors. Apart from my outburst at evening meal today, I think I’ve been fairly cooperative, given the circumstances.

  Of course, they don’t know about the hidden message in my transmission.

  There’s a chance Kaelen doesn’t even know about it.

  I steal quietly through the slumbering camp. I know which tent is his because I saw him retreat into it earlier, after the excitement of the hostage negotiation was over.

  I slip inside.

  He wakes when my light floods the small space, and sits up in his bed with a start. From the widening of his eyes, I think he might believe I’m here to kill him. But the truth is, I just want answers.

  Not that I could kill anyone in my current state.

  I don’t wait for an invitation to sit down. I know I’ll never get one. I sit on the edge of his bed and set my lantern on the nearby table. I have to reach over him to do it, my arm brushing against his. The faint beam of light reveals a tint of red on his face.

  I fight back a smile.

  Cody used to blush around me, too.

  Maybe it’s genetic.

  “Hi, Niko,” I say.

  “What are you doing here?” Despite his fear, he manages to infuse an impressive amount of annoyance into his tone. As if the only thing he’s concerned about right now is being woken up in the middle of the night.

  I stare at him, unable to keep the amazement from my face. He looks so much like Cody. They share the same faded blue eyes, the same round face, the same curly blond hair. I imagine this is what Cody would have looked like in his twenties.

  “Did you know him?” I ask. “Your … great-grandfather.”

  It feels so strange to think of Cody as a great-grandfather. It was hard enough to think of him as a father.

  “A little,” he says guardedly, refusing to take his eyes off me. “He died when I was eight.”

  Died.

  The word feels like a slap. Even though I know it shouldn’t. I never expected Cody to be alive today, but hearing it aloud is something altogether different.

  “Has anyone ever told you how much you look like him?”