Taro quirks an eyebrow. “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”
I grunt. “They made us wear clothes like this in Virtual High School. It was bad enough in Vex. It’s worse in the real-world. I’d much rather have one of these.” I pluck at the sleeve of his jumpsuit.
The door beeps and slides open. Hank is escorted inside, her eyes puffy. Her short, spiky red hair gleams in the light.
“Hank!” I jump to my feet at the sight of my best friend. Riska leaps into the air and glides around the room.
“Sulan!”
We rush toward each other, arms outstretched, just as we would have done in Vex. There’s an instant when the reality of our new situation hits us, and we both freeze mid-step, staring uncertainly at each other.
Until a few days ago, Hank and I had never met in the real-world. Hugging in Vex is second nature. There’s nothing second nature about being in the real-world with each other.
I give a nervous laugh. “We’re being lame,” I say, taking a step toward her.
“Lame,” she agrees, echoing my nervous laugh.
I lean forward and seize her in an embrace. She throws her arms around me, a ragged sob wracking her thin frame. She’s so tall—nearly six feet—that she has to hunch over to rest her forehead against my shoulder. I can feel the bones of her shoulder blades through her shirt, another thing I hadn’t been able to do in Vex.
I inhale the same burnished scent of the chemical scrub, and another, lighter smell that’s Hank. What do I smell like to her?
“They won’t let me see my family,” Hank says, straightening and wiping her eyes. Her face crumples as she looks at me. “Oh, Sulan, that was so insensitive—I’m sorry. Your mom—”
I shake my head, grief making my throat tight. Later, I tell myself firmly. Think about Mom later.
“Did they at least tell you whether your family is here?” I ask, taking the conversation away from my mother.
Hank nods yes, wiping at her eyes. “The nurse who vaccinated me said everyone arrived safely in the Dome, and that I’d be reunited with my family in due time. In due time! Who even talks like that anymore?”
The door beeps open a third time. This time Billy is ushered inside. He’s dressed like Hank and me in khakis and a blue polo. His long blond hair, still wet, obscures most of his eyes.
In a blink, Hank is in his arms. Billy lifts one hand. It hovers in the air, then strokes the back of Hank’s neck. The two of them lean into each other, the real-world awkwardness nonexistent.
I’m so busy watching my two friends that I don’t immediately notice the door hasn’t closed. A short woman bustles inside, an old-fashioned, pre-’Fault clipboard nestled in the crook of her arm.
“Hello,” she says with a bright smile. “I’m Kerry Sturgess, director of public relations.”
2
Director of Public Relations
Hank and Billy leap apart, their faces reddening with embarrassment. I ease closer to Taro, eyeing the newcomer. Riska lands on my shoulder, tail lashing as he swivels his ears in her direction.
“Nice to see you all happily reuniting with one another,” the woman says, brimming over with a cheerfulness I find unnerving.
The door beeps, sliding along its rails. Right before it closes, I see three mercs position themselves in the corridor outside. Apparently, we have guards.
The woman catches my look. “A formality,” she says, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of the mercs. “You must be Sulan Hom.” She strides forward, still smiling, and seizes my hand in a firm handshake. “Kerry Sturgess, director of public relations. So nice to meet you.”
I hastily extricate my hand; the touch of a complete stranger is weird and unnerving. “Why do we have guards?”
“No one comes in or out of the Fortress without an escort,” Kerry says. “This is, after all, Mr. Winn’s private residence here in the Dome. Can’t have anyone wandering about.”
I file these facts as Kerry moves onto my friends, shaking their hands and repeating her title to each of them. As if none of us heard it the first time.
She’s shorter than I am, which is saying something. Her dark gray hair falls in a long braid down her back. She wears khaki pants and a burgundy polo shirt embroidered with the Global logo. A pair of glasses rests on the edge of her nose.
When she’s done shaking everyone’s hand, she steps back and taps one finger against her clipboard. She regards us over the silver frames, a bright, perky expression on her face. I can’t decide if it’s real or forced.
“I know you’ve been through a great ordeal,” Kerry says. “All things considered, you’re doing remarkably well.”
I frown. How does she know how we’re doing?
“Please, why don’t you all take a seat? We have a lot of work to do, but Mr. Winn has certainly given me great subject matter.”
Subject matter? My lips tighten. Riska hisses.
“Please.” Kerry gestures to the sofas. “No reason for anyone to be uncomfortable while we talk.”
Hank is the first one to move. Taking Billy’s hand, she heads toward one of the green sofas and sits.
“You, too,” Kerry says, gesturing to Taro and me. “Sit, please.”
Taro and I exchange looks. Riska fans open his wings, tail lashing. Reluctantly, I sit on the other sofa, Taro by my side.
Kerry remains standing, looking down at us. We gave her a tactical advantage. She now gets to look down at us.
“Your press conference will take place tonight.” Kerry glances at her watch. “We have exactly one hour to prepare.”
Across the room, I hear Billy grunt. My stomach falls to my feet.
One hour. One hour until our press conference in Vex.
The idea of being under a public microscope makes me queasy. Even worse is knowing I’m expected to speak to the public. I once tried to talk a calculus professor into letting me write two research papers in lieu of an oral presentation. She didn’t go for it, and I’m positive there’s nothing I can say or do to convince Mr. Winn to let me opt out.
This is the price Dad and Aston agreed to pay. We could have spent our lives on the run from Global. Instead, Dad and Aston cut a deal with the owner of Global Arms, Mr. Winn. Dad thinks the press conference will be used to launch Global’s campaign for the country’s defense contract.
“I was hoping we’d have more time to prep,” Hank says, twisting her fingers together. No one likes prep time more than Hank. I’ve seen her spend weeks studying for a test. No doubt she’s looking at this as a huge exam.
“I, too, would like more time,” Kerry replies. “Unfortunately, time is not something we have right now. The public wants to see the young men and women who defeated Imugi. It’s in Global’s best interest to oblige the public. Don’t fret. You won’t be required to speak. Miss Claudine Winn will be leading the event.”
Relief rushes through me. Maybe this won’t be so bad. If all I have to do is stand there while Claudine talks—
“All you have to do is embody your assigned personas. That’s what I’m here to help you with.”
Embody our assigned personas? What does that mean? My anxiety rushes back. The fur along Riska’s spine fluffs up.
“Hank, let’s start with you,” Kerry says. “You need to straighten your spine.” Hank immediately complies. “You are a tall, brilliant, confident young woman. There is no reason to slouch. You are the hacker of the group—”
“Ex-hacker,” Hank says quickly. “I haven’t done anything illegal since—”
Kerry waves a hand to silence her. “You’re the hacker in the group that took down Imugi. That’s the part you need to play at the press conference. Be proud of what you’ve done for our country. Carry yourself accordingly.”
I see Hank mentally file this away in her brain. She nods vigorously at the gray-haired woman.
“Got it,” Hank says. “I’m the hacker. Tall. Confident. No slouching.”
“Very good.” Kerry beams. “Now,
Billy.” She pauses, gazing down at him. “You are the resident Black Tech programmer. I like the hair in the eyes. Adds to your mystique. But your demeanor is much too docile. Can you embody a bit of cockiness?”
Puppets. They’re using us like puppets.
“Uh, okay,” Billy says.
“Don’t say uh. Not ever,” Kerry says. “It undermines audience confidence. Stand up for a moment, please.”
Billy stands.
“Hook your thumbs in your front pockets. Good. Now slouch a bit. Perfect. Now, look out at the world through your bangs. Perfect! Doesn’t he embody the perfect nonchalant, cocky Black Tech programmer?” She looks at the rest of us, clearly expecting an answer.
“He looks great,” Hank gushes. I’m not sure if she’s gushing because she’s head over heels for Billy, or if she’s desperately trying to impress Kerry.
“Good job, Billy,” Kerry says. “You can sit down. Now. Taro.” She turns her attention to Taro. “You, young man, have stoic down to a science. I like it. Just maintain that demeanor. The crowd will eat you up. You are the muscle of the group, the brawn that helped take down Imugi.”
Taro tenses beside me. He hates being stereotyped as much as I do.
“Sulan.” Kerry turns her smile on me. “You need to work on your expression. You are our resident mathematic strategist. When you’re in front of the audience, you need to look confident and smart. You need to portray intelligence. That means you can’t walk around scowling at everything. Smooth out your brow.”
I take a deep breath. It’s an effort to relax my face, but somehow I manage.
“Much better!” Kerry says. “You’re so pretty when you aren’t scrunching up your face. Now, let me see a smile. Try to portray a little bit of confidence. The audience will like that in their strategist. You used predictive analysis to develop an escape plan that had the best chance of success. You are shy, yet proud of what you accomplished.”
“That’s not exactly what happened,” I begin. “If anyone can be credited for our escape plan, it’s Billy and Taro—”
Kerry waves me into silence. “Irrelevant for our purposes. You’re scowling again, Sulan. Relax your face, please.”
Everyone watches me. My face heats up with embarrassment. Riska rumbles and mrows. I blink, trying to smooth out my wrinkled brow.
“Better,” Kerry says. “Now. Show me a small smile. Something … secretive. No, not like that. You look like a bear guarding a fresh kill.”
If possible, my face gets even hotter. My palms start to sweat. Riska digs his claws into my shoulder and hisses.
Kerry ignores him. She peers at me, her smile slipping. She cocks her head, tapping the clipboard with her finger again.
“Look at him,” she says at last, pointing to Taro. “Smile at him.”
I turn. Riska’s fur smooths out. For some reason, the idea of smiling at Taro doesn’t make me feel like I’m gnawing on cardboard. He meets my eyes, expression sympathetic. My return smile blossoms naturally.
“Perfect!” Kerry slaps a palm against her clipboard. “Perfect, Sulan! Now, just think of Taro when you’re in Vex tonight. Pretend you’re smiling at him, and the crowd will love you.”
For yet a third time, I blush. I glare at Kerry. Taro has too much grace to laugh, although Hank smirks at me.
“All right.” Kerry beams at us. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. We’ll have more time to perfect your personas in the coming weeks.”
“Coming weeks?” I say. We agreed—well, our dads agreed—to one press conference. One. “We—”
Kerry holds up a hand to silence me. “Later, Sulan. Right now, I need each of you to meditate on your public persona, on the role you each played in the downfall of Imugi. To recap: Hank, you are the snappy, confident hacker. Billy, you’re the mysterious and cocky programmer. Taro, you’re the implacable warrior. Sulan, you’re the reserved and brilliant strategist. Close your eyes. Focus on your personas.”
I glance at the others. Hank’s eyes immediately close. I can’t see Billy’s behind his long bangs. Taro glances at me, then closes his eyes.
“Now is not the time for reticence, Sulan,” Kerry says. “You are a young woman of action. A young woman who helped deliver a devastating blow to our country’s worst enemy.”
I reluctantly close my eyes.
“The hacker, the programmer, the merc, and the mathematic strategist,” Kerry says. She repeats this a dozen times like a mantra.
“Very good,” she says at last. “Now, when you’re in front of the public, remember everything we talked about. Embody your personas and let the country soak you in. Miss Winn will handle all necessary dialogue. It’s your job to stay in character. Keep in mind that you are representing Global Arms tonight. Make our company proud.”
She delivers this last sentence as though it should be our divine inspiration. Like the welfare of Global Arms should be our sole reason for living. As if Global Arms hasn’t manipulated and tried to control every one of us—like it’s doing now.
“Time to go,” Kerry says. “You now will have the rare honor of meeting Mr. Winn and Miss Winn in person. Follow me.”
3
Real-World Winns
We fall into single file behind Kerry and exit the room. The mercs flank us as we move down the granite corridor. Riska, perched on my shoulder, growls at them. They ignore him.
I take in the Fortress as we walk, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this is where Mr. Winn and Claudine live. The air is cool and there are no windows anywhere. Sliding metal doors line the corridor, some of them open. The rooms inside are all granite—the walls, the floors, and the ceilings. Wires for lighting run overhead, hanging from small metal prongs inserted into the stone.
It’s like we’re in a cave. Could the Fortress have been carved right into the side of a mountain? It wouldn’t be the strangest thing the Winns have done.
The feeling of being trapped makes the skin between my shoulder blades itch. Riska snaps his tail.
We reach a pair of double metal doors. Kerry stops before them and turns to face us.
“You’re about to enter the media room, the only place in the Dome with access to Vex. Mr. Winn and Miss Winn are inside. Both are eager to meet you.” She hesitates, smile wavering for an instant.
Something in her demeanor sends a slither of unease through me. Taro shifts, no doubt also picking up on Kerry’s tension. There’s no telling what’s in store for us on the other side of those double doors, but whatever it is has her perma-smile rattled.
“Meeting the Winn family in person is … a great honor.” Kerry sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “Remember your personas and mind your manners. Whatever you do, don’t stare.”
With that, she turns and approaches the double doors. There’s a retina scanner mounted on the wall. A red line bathes the right side of her face, verifying her identity. The doors beep and slide apart.
Still surrounded by the mercs, we are ushered into a huge chamber made of solid granite. It’s round and resembles a small amphitheater. Plush green sofa chairs line a round step-down in the middle of the room. Next to each chair is a metal stand that holds a Vex headset.
The right side of the room is a solid wall of media equipment. Men and women in gray polos move among it, most of them tapping away on tablets. I spot a large fleet of Vex modems. The mass of gray polos is centered on the modems, no doubt prepping for the press conference. I can only imagine the security measures being taken to keep the conference from being hacked.
To the left side of the room is a large window, the first I’ve seen since I woke up in the Fortress. I crane my neck for a better look, but from my vantage point all I see is a blur of white snow.
“And here we have Global’s finest,” booms the familiar voice of Mr. Winn. “Welcome, slayers of Imugi!”
I turn, looking for the trim, monocle-wearing man with the big gray beard that’s been an unwelcome presence in my life since childhood. The f
amiliar face is nowhere in sight.
Instead, I see a huge man—no, scratch that. Huge does not even begin to describe his girth. The man is enormous. Way beyond fat. And he’s dressed in a purple velour jogging suit and fluorescent yellow sneakers.
He waddles into the ring of green chairs and plops into one. The tracksuit stretches taut around him. His gut rests on his legs.
“Our heroes have arrived in the Dome,” the man says. “This is a great day for Global Arms.”
It’s Mr. Winn. I’m sure it is, although hearing the familiar voice projected out of a completely different body is disorienting. I kick myself for assuming he would look like his avatar. Minors are prohibited from using Vex Axcents to modify their avatars, but once a person turns eighteen, all bets are off.
“Come here. Let me get a look at each of you in the real-world,” says the fat man.
Riska wraps his tail around my neck and mews. I stand there with my friends, all of us frozen in shock. It isn’t until one of the mercs prods me in the back that I remember to move. And not to stare. Suddenly understanding Kerry’s warning, I drop my eyes.
“Come.” Kerry beams. “You heard Mr. Winn. He would like to meet you.”
Clustered in a tight group, we ease down the step into the center of the room. Kerry buzzes around, arranging us into a line before Mr. Winn.
“Personas,” she says with a radiant smile. “Let Mr. Winn see them, please.”
Hank immediately straightens and cocks her left hip to one side. Billy sticks his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants. I work the muscles of my face, trying to capture the secretive smile Kerry wants. Taro is the only one of us who doesn’t change. He remains stock still, his face its usual implacable mask.
Our efforts must be decent—either that, or Kerry wants Mr. Winn to think she’s done a good job prepping us—because she says, “Very, very nice. What do you think, Mr. Winn?”
He looks us up and down. Even though he doesn’t cut an imposing figure—not unless you take into account the fact that he could squash anyone he sat on—I find myself intimidated. He’s one of the most powerful men alive and we are at his mercy. The Dome is his kingdom and we are his subjects. He could order anyone here to be executed, and there’d be no one to stand up to him.
Sulan Box Set (Episodes 1-4) Page 24
