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servers--likely nothing that could stand up against the full weight of a network invasion, but nothing we'd be able to topple remotely on our own. We had to get in at the source.
"Try me." I offered up a perfect smile. Nothing to hide. What you see is what you get.
"As you know, the Brotherhood of Man has been making overtures in our direction," Ben said. "They claim they'd like to publicly bury the hatchet."
"In our backs?"
Ben cleared his throat. "They have a powerful voice and numerous followers--"
"Hate sells."
"--and if we can tap into that, it could be very helpful to our cause."
"Where is this going?" I asked. Circumlocution was call-me-Ben's specialty; he could talk for hours without saying a thing.
As usual it was Kiri who cut through the crap. "We're staging an event," she said. "A public peacemaking. The Brotherhood will announce their willingness to help incorporate the mechs into society, and BioMax will graciously accept their offer."
Kiri was one of the only BioMax people who actually used the word "mech." It was one of the things I liked best about her. The rest of them all said "download recipient" or "client" or, if they didn't realize I was listening, "skinner." But
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Kiri used the name we'd given ourselves. She was smart--too smart to buy into the Brotherhood's line. Maybe Auden was sincere. But that was irrelevant, now that the Honored Rai Savona was back in the picture. "You do realize they've got an agenda?" I said.
"Quite honestly, their agenda doesn't matter to us," Ben said. "Right now they're doing exactly what we need them to be doing. If they take an ill-considered path in the future, we'll take whatever measures we see as necessary."
Translation: Squash them like a bug.
"So what do you want from me?" I was sickened enough being in these offices, facing them, pretending nothing had changed. Throw Savona into the mix--and Auden, who I tried not to think about, couldn't think about--and almost bearable turned into not. "Since it's obviously not my opinion."
Is it ever?
Jude's voice, Jude's disgust. They want you to dance for them, I could imagine him sneering, not talk. Certainly not think.
"The Brotherhood is extending an olive branch, Lia," Ben said. I hated when he said my name in his oily voice, like he was granting me a gift by acknowledging my identity. I know what's inside your head, his expression always seemed to say. I've seen your flesh peeled away, your brain exposed. I know what you really are. "We don't want to turn our backs on that."
"Fine. I still don't see--"
"We want you to represent BioMax," Kiri said. "Stand
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up at a podium with Savona and Auden, make a little speech, shake their hands, sit down again. Simple as that."
"Simple?" I laughed. "You're a bad liar, Kiri."
"You don't have to marry them," Ben snapped. "You'll speak, you'll shake hands, and then we'll start the music and serve the food and you can go skulk in a corner or visit your friends upstairs or whatever antisocial course suits your fancy."
"What friends upstairs?"
"On the thirteenth floor," Kiri said. "The event's down at our research facility--there's a nice banquet space there, and we think it'll send a good message, get the word out about the limitless technological horizon, all that. We'll be packaging a whole vid segment on the rehabilitating mechs, give the public more insight into the process. Better our turf than theirs, right?"
I nodded, distracted by the possibilities. With all those people it would be easy to slip away from the crowd, into the corners of the building that I'd never been allowed to enter. With an event like this going on downstairs, it seemed likely that the place would be understaffed, maybe even cleared out, which would give us a clear path.
It wouldn't do to give in too quickly. Not when they both knew exactly how I felt about Savona and, I could tell, had come in girding themselves for a fight. So I let them argue and spin and cajole; I let them explain all the ways that this could be a new start for us, that many of the most vicious antiskinners
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were followers of the Brotherhood and their watching the leaders recant could change everything, that I was the key to forgiveness. Especially given my history with Auden--
That's where I stopped them. "I'll do it."
Kiri beamed. "I promise, if it's a disaster, you're welcome to say I told you so."
"Don't worry," I said. "I will."
I twirled for the mirror, and the nearly weightless silk skirt billowed around me. Under any other circumstances it would have been an optimal opportunity for preening. The sleek ball gown hugged every curve of my perfectly sculpted mech body, and the shimmering blue--which shifted across the spectrum from sky to indigo and back again as I moved--glowed against my smooth, pale skin. Riley brushed his lips against my neck, then traced a finger down my bare back until it reached the sash of silk slung low over my hips. "You sure you have to go out tonight?" he said softly. "You could stay here, and--"
"I'm sure," I said. The ball gown wasn't exactly the pinnacle of delinquent style, and I suspected the idea of breaking into BioMax might have seemed slightly less surreal if I'd been decked out in something more appropriate. But camo gear, even the kind programmed to blend into any background, wouldn't offer much invisibility at the BioMax ceremony. The idea was to blend, and--I shot a final confirming glance at
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the mirror, taking in the elaborately twisted blond braids, the jeweled designs sparkling along my arms and breastbone, the oceans of silk--I blended.
"Whoa," Riley breathed, eyes widening as Zo stepped out of the bathroom, her shoulders hunched and arms crossed her chest as if she were preparing for attack.
Her hair was clean and shining for the first time in years, pulled up in a loose chignon that highlighted the long arc of her neck. She'd traded in her standard uniform of baggy shirts and sagging retro jeans for an asymmetrical black gown. Satin coated one arm, leaving the other bare, and a latticework of temp tattoos crawled from her wrist to her neck. It looked like her skin was knit from silver lace, and somehow it worked. She looked beautiful, but not in a shocking ugly-duckling-turns-swan kind of way. Zo was still Zo, and crap clothes and greasy hair couldn't hide a genetic bounty for which our parents had paid a fortune. She looked better, but no matter how much she tried to hide it, she'd always looked good. I'd always known Zo was beautiful.
I'd never known how much she looked like me.
Or at least, the me that used to exist, in a different body with a different face. Zo was now almost exactly the age I'd been when the accident happened. And it occurred to me that watching her get older would be like getting a glimpse into the future I didn't get to have.
"You look great," I told her.
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She scowled. "Whatever."
"You look like some old lady," Sari commented, from her habitual sulking spot in the corner.
"You look amazing," Riley said. "Both of you."
Zo stopped hunching after that. She kept sneaking glances at herself in the mirror, and I wondered what she saw. If she saw me.
"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Riley asked. He pressed his hand to the small of my back. As an org I'd found that gesture irresistible--something about a warm hand on cold skin, at exactly the spot where I felt strongest and most vulnerable all at the same time. But I was a mech, and it was just a hand. I smiled at Riley.
"You hate parties," I reminded him. "I realize I look hot enough to make you forget that. But you'd remember as soon as we walked in, and you'd be miserable."
"I don't like the idea of you going alone," he said.
Zo cleared her throat, loudly.
"Both of you, alone," he clarified. "Aren't you afraid your father will be there?"
Zo flinched, but fortunately, his eyes were on me.
"I hope he's there," I said. It was only a half lie. We needed him there, if this w
as going to work. But it didn't mean I was looking forward to the encounter.
"Me too," Zo said, and if you weren't her sister, you wouldn't notice that it was the voice she used when she was
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lying, and when she was afraid. But there was fury in it, along with the fear. It leaked out exactly the way our father's did, like radiation--stealthy but lethal. "He's the one that should be afraid to see us ."
I almost believed her. The more time we spent together, the more we fell into our old patterns: me the rule-abiding, cautious good girl, her the wild child who threw herself headfirst into anything, her life a constant dare to the universe to do its worst. While I was playing nice with BioMax, doing my job and pretending nothing had changed, lying to Riley and hating myself for how easy it had become, Zo had spent the last few days with Jude, putting her hacking skills to good use by helping him ferret out blueprints, plot strategies, conspire, spew out one convoluted plan after another until hitting on one that at least had a prayer of working. It all seemed so easy for her, and I'd assumed that was because it was easy, because she was fearless. But it suddenly occurred to me that she was fearless because she couldn't conceive of having anything to fear--maybe all this still seemed like something out of a vidlife, a melodrama with an inevitably happy ending. I knew it was possible to delude yourself that way; after the accident, I'd done it myself.
"Zo. You sure you're up for this?"
"I'm sure." She glared at me, daring me to try to talk her out of it or, worse, forbid her.
"Then let's go," I said. That won me a grateful look.
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"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Riley said, as we were leaving. "They can't make you."
I kissed him and wondered when he'd gotten so naive.
There were only a hundred people crammed into the BioMax banquet room, but the walls were net-linked, and thousands of faces stared at us from all over the country. It was easy enough to ignore them; I was used to being watched.
While Zo haunted the room, hovering by the buffet table and avoiding our father, I sat up on the dais with the assembled dignitaries, waiting for my cue. It was usually frustrating the way the mech body created a distance between me and the world, every touch and sound a painful reminder that nothing seemed quite real only because I wasn't. But times like this it was an advantage. I could stay locked in my head, watching my body move as if it belonged to someone else, shaking repugnant hands, smiling at the enemy, forming words I would never mean. Standing at a microphone, looking out over an audience of corp directors, BioMax suits, Brotherhood sympathizers, following the script: "I'm so gratified that we can come together in dialogue." "I'm looking forward to our shared future." "Tolerance." "Forgiveness." "Common ground." "This is a new beginning." And other such bullshit.
I was able to tune out as Savona himself took the stage to blather on about his regrets and his reformation. I didn't
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allow myself to wonder how anyone could overlook the obvious insanity dancing in his eyes, and I didn't allow myself to watch Auden, who was listening from the other side of the central podium. I hadn't seen him since the explosion at the temple, when I'd pulled him out of the burning wreckage. The security-operations guys had dragged him away for questioning while the building still burned, while I was still flailing in a secop's arms and screaming Riley's name.
I'd spent a long time begging Auden's forgiveness and hating myself for what I'd done to him--blaming myself for what he'd become. That was over now. It was his choice to stand by Savona's side, embracing his former mentor with open arms, just as it was his choice to dive into the frigid water and try to rescue me. I didn't ask to be saved.
Auden, who knew better than anyone what Savona had been up to at that temple, and had to know exactly how sincere these pledges of tolerance and shared destiny could be, chose to let Savona speak, and let the world believe him. He pretended that he could stay in charge of the Brotherhood, keep Savona in the wings, even though Savona was the pro, the one with the words and the voice, the adult with the gravitas and the credit and the power. All Auden had was the pity vote, and if he thought that would be enough, that was his choice, his mistake. He'd picked his side of the stage. I was done apologizing--to him and for him.
When the speechifying finally wound down, I shook
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Auden's hand, and I did it without looking away. Then I shook Savona's, pleased again that the sensations received through my artificial nerves were so thin and colorless. I didn't want the pressure of his palm to feel real; I didn't want to know if it was clammy and sweaty or warm and dry. But I squeezed tight, knowing he was just as repulsed by my touch, and wanting his hell to last as long as it could.
Zo grabbed me as I stepped off the dais, pulling me off to the side. "I can do this part," she said. "If you don't want to."
It was tempting. "You can't. He'd never believe it, coming from you."
"And he'll believe it from you?" she asked. "After what he did to you?"
I didn't want to say it. And even more, I didn't want to watch her face as I did. "But he didn't mean to do it to me. He meant to do it to you."
Zo didn't flinch.
"When I tell him that makes all the difference, he'll believe me," I said.
"How do you know?"
"Because he wants to believe me. That's how it works."
He was avoiding me. I threaded my way through the crowd, catching glimpses of him over shoulders, through a knot of people, but he was always one step ahead. Maybe I wasn't trying very hard to catch him. The crowd was a bizarre mixture of BioMax execs and the occasional Brother still draped
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in one of those iridescent robes that had surely been designed for maximal creep factor. There were also a few mechs scattered through the crowd, though none I recognized, probably because no one who'd ever crossed paths with Jude would be naive enough to come within ten miles of this minefield. Even Ani--an obvious invitee--had apparently stayed away, though I suspected that had as much to do with my presence as Savona's. But as I neared the bar, I spotted a vaguely familiar face: Elton Kravis, a mech who'd always been a bit of a moron, so his presence made sense. He was deep in conversation with some blank-faced corp exec, but, fulfilling his moron destiny, abruptly cut it off and veered to his right in pursuit of a gorgeous girl with long black hair and a Brotherhood robe who would have been out of his league even if she didn't believe he had about as much sex appeal as a vacuum cleaner. In his wake he left an empty space in the crowd, affording me a perfect view of my father.
He stood alone in a corner, his face buried in his glass--probably downers mixed with tea, his blend of choice.
I'd thought this part would be easy.
Because what could be easier for me than pretending to be a person I despised? I'd been rehearsing for this moment all year. But once I was standing before him, forcing myself to look up into his unlined face, the eyes that had once been exactly the same shade as mine, I couldn't do it. He would see through it, I was certain. He would know I was more likely to
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attack than swap small talk. I let myself indulge the fantasy for a moment, imagining a jagged edge of glass raking his skin.
Zo was watching from across the room. She caught my eye and flashed me her cheesiest thumbs-up.
"Hi, Dad." I smiled.
There was a flicker of surprise, then it was gone. He nodded, casually, like he'd expected nothing less than an affable greeting from his beloved daughter. "Lia. Good to see you."
"And you." He couldn't see into my head, I reminded myself. He couldn't see anything unless I let him. "How have you been?"
"Well. Very well. And you?"
We went back and forth, saying nothing, for endless minutes. He was putting on a show for whoever was watching, although almost surely no one was. I waited it out, letting him squirm, because my next move would be less suspicious if he made it for me, thinking it was his own ide
a. Finally, success: "Would you like to go somewhere more private?" he asked. "Perhaps somewhere we could talk?"
"That would be nice." Formal and proper. I smiled again, letting a dash of pain filter into it, so he would understand I was struggling with the decision, overcoming my own natural inclinations to run. He led me into a private office--our father never attended events like this without lining up a private sanctum to which he could retreat in time of need--and settled at one end of a small couch.
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The thought of joining him made my skin crawl. I did it anyway.
"Lia." He stopped, swallowed hard, looked down, then, thinking better of it, forced himself to face me. I stared at the door, watching him out of the corner of my eye. "I didn't expect you'd want to talk to me."
"I don't." It couldn't be too easy, or he'd never believe it, no matter how much he wanted to.
"But ..."
"But I'm here," I said. "You're my father, whatever happened. So ... I'm here." I sat flagpole straight, facing forward, hands gripping the edge of the cushion like I was priming myself to run.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what else to say. I never meant to hurt you."
After all this time, he hadn't managed to come up with anything better than the world's oldest, lamest excuse? Sorry I had you murdered. Who knew it would hurt?
"I know," I said.
"You do?"
I closed my eyes for a long moment, let him think I was grappling with a decision, opening a door. I turned and met his gaze. "I know," I said again. "It must have been an impossible situation for you. I can't even imagine, having to pick between two children, but ..." I reminded myself that Zo would never have to hear what I said next. That they were just words. "You
Wired (Skinned, Book 3) Page 11
