by Julie Wright
Alison hadn’t been able to guilt me into turning out my lights so she could sleep for months. She likely believed I took some demented sort of pleasure in torturing her, and, when I felt like being honest with myself, some part of me did find satisfaction in making her miserable.
After another hour, when I felt certain Alison had fallen asleep, I went to her lapdesk and ran a search for “Shaw, executed, crazy.” I used her lapdesk because out of all the New Youths, she was the least likely to be watched for nonconforming behavior.
There were over 58,000 pages with those key words. I narrowed the search by adding San Francisco. 23,467 pages. I narrowed it more by adding Professor Raik’s name. 129 pages. My heart pounded as I opened the first page.
Kirk Shaw had worked as a physicist in the research of making long space travel possible. His programs were funded by the university under the approval of Professor Raik.
Kirk Shaw. Tag’s father worked, however indirectly, for Professor Raik. The possibility of him being a different Shaw was there, but this fit so well into current circumstances. The article applauded Kirk Shaw for his vast achievements in physics. That’s Tag’s specialty, too.
There were many more articles on Kirk Shaw the physicist. All the articles had similar themes; Kirk Shaw had achieved this great goal. He’d solved that great mystery—until page 67.
I read page 67 with an increasing horror. My vision clouded with tears.
San Francisco Times—May 13, 2102
The regents were forced to take action on one of their own today. Kirk Shaw was sentenced and terminated according to crazy law. Shaw worked as the number one physicist under Professor Seaver Raik in the quest to perpetuate human life on other worlds. Shaw had made great advancements in his field when it was discovered by anonymous sources that he and his wife, Joy Shaw, had been harboring a crazy in their home nine years past the time of testing. Both Shaw and his wife were terminated under crazy law. Shaw held police at bay while the crazy and the Shaw’s son escaped the house. The children were missing for several hours, sending police on a manhunt that ended in the park several streets from where the Shaw family resided. The crazy held a child hostage at knifepoint, but after a forty-five minute standoff, released its hostage and accepted its fate. The Shaw property was confiscated and turned over to the state regent to disperse throughout the community, which had suffered from this ordeal. Professor Raik said, “It is a shame that the community lost such a great mind simply because that mind was not strong enough to live within the laws of our great regents.” Professor Raik has assumed authority over Shaw’s discoveries and will continue his research.
Who was the hostage? What was Tag’s sister’s name? Why had the article told so little? What kind of lousy reporter wouldn’t want to add all the juicy sorry details of an orphaned child?
Only two of the other pages available under my search included any news of the execution and the crazy child. But those articles were less detailed than the first. All the others were accolades to Kirk Shaw’s amazing mind. I rubbed my eyes, noted the late hour, and with a groan, moved to my bed. My fingers rubbed against the worn edges of my sun quilt, safely hidden underneath my sheet and bedspread, and I fell into the nightmarish sleep I’d grown used to over my life. Only in this nightmare, a crazy sister held me hostage, and Tag stood in front of us, not able to decide which of us to save.
Chapter Twenty-Two
4-1-2114
Yourit, your people are stupid. Nothing personal, and, no, this isn’t an April Fool’s joke. I know you’re different. But the scientists of the future have some pretty childish ideas. It’s as if the trauma of a dying world, and the war you won only due to lack of organization on the part of the crazies, made your scientists infantile and incapable of doing significant work on their own. I’ve been researching sterility and mental disorders and sexually transmitted infections. And guess what? They’re all linked. Both chlamydia and gonorrhea cause sterility in men and women. And cytomegalovirus and chlamydia both can lead to mental disorders. When we pull blood samples and samples of the birthing fluids, we always test positive for these things and several others. But there seems to be a sort of symbiotic relationship happening with these three. The viruses are acting as a retrovirus, integrating their genetic material into the chromosomes of the human cells. The virus is taking advantage of the nerve cells being damaged by the bacteria that causes infertility. And the bacteria are hiding under the cover of the altered cells—feeding and breeding at a cellular level. They’ve actually altered the cells—damaged genetic code begets damaged genetic code, causing mental disorders and sterility resulting in no babies and crazy people. Professor Modesitt is looking for a cure to the craziness in the birthing fluids, but I don’t think the birthing fluids are the problem. The problem is the genetic material donated to create new life. I could be wrong, and I don’t have enough training and education to make any announcements to the medical community, but I really think they’re looking in the wrong places to find a solution to their problem. The maternal genetic material in the mitochondria can, and has, mutated, causing mental instability. I know you deal with physics, but you’ve helped with my biology in the beginning. How advanced is your knowledge? Can you take a look at my tests and find anything? I don’t know enough to try to find a cure, but at least looking in the right place for the problem might be half the battle . . .
Let me know what you think.
Sunny
I finished writing the letter on the stripped-down cardboard back of a shipping box for aquariums and tried to figure out how I was going to fold it up and stick it in A Sliver of Midnight. I hadn’t mentioned Tag’s family and how I knew what had happened there. If I ever got another chance to see Tag and talk with him one-on-one again, we might be able to discuss it then, but it seemed cold to bring up such painful memories and not be there to hug him after.
I finally left him a much shorter message in A Sliver of Midnight telling him to look in Australia’s Ancestry for the real note. Australia’s Ancestry’s huge size made it possible to hide the note without needing to fold it.
After an hour of perusing medical books on genetics and sexually transmitted diseases and infections as well as books that specifically covered HTHBI, I stacked my armload of new research and prepared to leave.
“Quite a heavy load, Miss Rae.”
I peered around the stack of books to see Professor Raik leaning against one of the glass columns and grinning his congressman smile at me.
“It’s not that heavy.” My heart quickened with the fear that he might have been following me. Had he seen me leaving notes in books?
“Not in literal weight maybe, but it is heavy reading, wouldn’t you agree?”
I did agree. Only an idiot would look at my stack and think I’d picked out fluffy bunny books. I shrugged noncommittally, not sure of his intentions. “You did say I should take some science classes.”
“So I did. Mind if I walk with you?”
I shrugged again and offered over an awkward smile. We passed under the sensors at the doors where the computerized female voice agreeably thanked me for my book selections and reminded me to return them in fourteen days. Professor Raik hadn’t offered to help carry my books home proving once and for all that chivalry in the future was dead.
“Are you happy here?” he asked finally.
“Happy, sir? Is anyone really ever happy?”
He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and cleared his throat. I shifted my books so they didn’t topple onto the sidewalk and waited for him to initiate a more specific conversation.
“Eddie invited you to a dinner party.”
So that was the problem. Eddie was always the problem. “Yes, he did.”
“And you declined?”
Well duh! That’s what I would have said if it had been anyone but Professor Raik. “Yes, I did.”
I turned down the sidewalk to go toward the garden tubes, but Professor Raik stopped me and motioned toward h
is car. I swallowed hard, but got into his car, settling the books on the seat next to me. Once seated across from the professor, I remembered the note from Tag still in my pocket. The message carried nothing incriminating. Just idle chit chat from someone named Yourit. But if he already suspected . . .
“Eddies worries about you.” He started again.
“Does he?”
“I’m trying to understand why you would reject him out of hand.”
The car jolted forward, speeding along down the rails. Honesty might be the best policy. “Eddie has all the intelligence of lunch meat. Any discerning female would reject him, and I’d hardly call it out of hand.”
“Intelligence. So you’re looking for an intellectual equivalent.” Professor Raik mulled this over a moment before he said, “Young Taggert is quite intelligent.”
I willed myself not to blink, fidget, or shift with my sudden nervousness. Playing stupid with Professor Raik would, in fact, be stupid. You have the right to remain silent, policemen used to tell suspects. I wondered briefly if they still did that, or if they just ex-ed them and let the cleanup crew handle the rest.
“You’ve been running some interesting searches. And frankly, I’m curious.”
“Curious about what, sir?” They’d checked my searches. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How had they checked my searches?
“Curious about your relationship with Taggert.”
I snorted. “You think because I find Eddie repulsive that I have a relationship with a soldier I haven’t seen in a year?”
The car jolted as the locks holding us to the rails released. We didn’t slow our speed but instead accelerated and lifted off the tracks altogether, taking to the sky. Professor Raik viewed the landscape as it swished past. Where were we going? He took his time in forming his answer.
“When was the last time you saw Taggert?” he asked. He still kept his gaze toward the window, but I knew he wasn’t missing anything. He likely had a vid-cam recording me so he could rewind and analyze our conversation later.
“The day I broke into the barracks.”
“And yet you’ve dated no one while here. Doesn’t that strike you as out of the ordinary?” He briefly flicked his eyes in my direction and offered an assuring smile. I hated his smile. Some of the girls thought Professor Raik was handsome, and they’d have made a play for him were it not for the directive that we were not to fraternize with anyone who had diseased blood. That put the professor in the off-limits category. Still, I wouldn’t have been surprised if any of them had tried to seduce him. They loved him. I was terrified of him, even more now that I knew he’d been involved in the executions of Tag’s family, and even more now that I was trapped in a flying car with him miles above the ground whisking off to who only knew where.
“I had a boyfriend at home. Nathan died in the car wreck I should have died in.” I willed myself to look weepy, which wasn’t hard. Nathan hadn’t deserved his fate. He could have been amazing if he’d had the chance to live.
“So you abstain from romantic interests out of mourning?” His gaze settled on me—locking me into place.
My breath felt erratic; could he see that? Could he see how my blood raced through my veins out of sheer panic? “Survivor’s guilt is painful. Besides I’m learning. You said we should learn. I’ve—”
“Oh I know.” He waved away my protest. “I see those searches, too. You’re on a quest to cure the disease you don’t understand.”
I opened my mouth to tell him he was as stupid as his scientists, but bit down on my tongue hard enough to taste the blood. Insulting the man who scared me to tears didn’t seem all that smart. “Lots of us aren’t in relationships. My roommate isn’t serious with anyone—”
“You know your situation is different. None of your classmates are investigating their soldiers, even the ones who had Taggert. None of the rest of your classmates worry about the commoners.”
He said commoners as though he weren’t one of them—as though his heart didn’t pump HTHBI through his body, too. I held his gaze as levelly as possible, my muscles hurting from holding still.
“How did you locate his name?” Professor Raik asked.
I shrugged, wondering what the driver thought of our conversation. I hadn’t admitted to actually running a search because of Tag, and I hadn’t used Tag’s name in my searches for a long time. Kirk Shaw was not the same thing as Tag. Playing stupid might be the smartest option yet. “Can you be more specific? Whose name? I do lots of research.”
“Taggert’s father.” Professor Raik very nearly growled the two words.
“I didn’t research Taggert’s father.” Incredulity and the righteous anger of the wrongfully accused filled my voice. Having been raised in the foster care system, this was a voice I’d used a lot in my life. “How would I know who some soldier’s dad’s name was? I don’t even know who my dad’s name was. I’ve only done research on my sister, which there isn’t any information on, by the way, and science stuff. What do I care whose related to who?” I added the part about my Winter searches because I knew he already knew and by making him look guilty of withholding information, it might make me look more innocent.
I held my breath. The denial hovered between us.
He made a noise in his throat, like a self-deprecating laugh. “Hmm. Well, we shall see what we see.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to my estate for dinner.” He turned his smile all the way up to “beaming.”
“Eddie’s going to be there?” It smelled like a setup.
“Yes—and several others.”
And how could I say no? He’d corralled me into the car, accused me of stuff I was actually guilty of doing, and I had no way of getting home again short of walking—past curfew—in the dark where crazies might still lie in waiting. “I’m not really dressed . . .” I had at least worn a skirt today, but not one I would have picked for a night out.
“You look . . . perfect.”
I froze. I may not have dated a lot of different guys in my life, but I knew that leer and recognized that tone.
My pulse quickened, and I drew myself back into my seat as deep as I could go, as if by moving those couple of extra millimeters, I’d be able to put myself out of his reach.
He didn’t reach.
The rest of our flight was taken in silence. And though I’d looked away—out the window, pretending to find interest in the topography below me, his eyes never strayed from me. I could feel them roving over every inch of me and had to quash the desire to throw open the door and jump to my death.
When the car touched down, I was surprised to find we didn’t hook into a rail system; he had a little landing pad in his side yard. No rails led to his home.
As soon as the engine cut, I sprang from my door and moved several feet away from the car. If nothing, he grinned wider as if he enjoyed having unnerved me. I followed several paces behind him as he approached his palace-size house. “Where do you keep the moat?” I muttered.
“We have several ponds in the back.”
His answer surprised me since I’d kept my voice intentionally low so he wouldn’t hear. “Oh, that’s nice.” His door glowed green on our approach, and we entered into a marbleized hallway that opened into a room with ceilings high enough to be mistaken for the sky. The many couples were all dressed formally, women in floor-sweeping gowns, men in dark-suited attire. Relief flooded me upon seeing Eddie—anyone was better than Professor Raik for company. I very nearly fell into his arms in my desperation to get away.
Eddie smiled. “You almost look happy to see me.” His arm went immediately around my shoulder and no amount of shrugging and shoulder jostling removed him.
I was wrong. Eddie wasn’t better than Professor Raik, stupider, maybe, but not better.
“I’m glad to see you changed your mind about joining me.” He murmured in my ear, his lips intentionally brushing my ear lobe.
I went from shrugging to shoving. “I didn’t
change my mind, meathead. I was tricked into coming. You—just stay away from me.” I put my hand out to stop him when he moved forward, knowing I was sending major mixed signals and not caring at all. I stepped in close enough to make myself heard by him only. “You mess with me, Eddie, and I will make that little accident you almost had while dodging the draft seem like a better alternative than what I can make happen to you. With my study in the labs, I have no problem accidentally injecting you with HTHBI. You’ll be crazier than the worst of them, and you’ll get the shakes so bad, you’ll look like a human earthquake.”
Eddie’s jaw fell slack, and his eyes widened. I turned on my heel, and, feeling a bit like Alison, flounced away. I grabbed a glass from the table, poured myself whatever they had in the punch bowl, and let my anger simmer down from the boil. The corner provided an excellent place to fume and take in my surroundings. Most of the guests were regents and regent advisors. These were the people in the futuristic limelight. These were the movie stars of the new world.
And they were watching my searches—even the ones not made on my lapdesk. The ring. The IDR must link somehow to wherever the searches are made—no matter whose lapdesk is used. These people killed Tag’s family. And they’d taken me away from mine.
I didn’t eat anything during dinner, my stomach soured by the company. Professor Raik’s gaze followed me like a searchlight everywhere I went. He slid in beside me toward the end of the night while other people danced.
“So you really don’t prefer Eddie?”
I narrowed my eyes to where Eddie danced with one of the other girls from our dormitory. “The intelligence of lunch meat.”
Professor Raik’s smile went from congressman to predator. “So do any of the young men we picked for you seem suitable?”
The impropriety of the question disconcerted me. Was this his way of seeing if I was a lost cause to furthering mankind and therefore available in some way? Maybe it was nothing and Eddie’s advances mingled with my own paranoia had finally got the best of me. I didn’t respond.
