Mind Games

by Teri Terry

  ‘And you say you are a Refuser, Luna, but you’ve been in the void recently. It’s in your eyes.’

  ‘Gecko took me.’ But is that the whole truth? Gecko wondered if he’d sent the ladder and arrows the last time just by thinking about me, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe I did it myself, because I’m a S’hacker. The word sounds funny connected to me, even not said out loud.

  Tempo raises an eyebrow as if she knows there is more, but says nothing.

  ‘Wait a minute. Why don’t I go and look for him, see if he is all right?’

  ‘Look for him? Where?’ Heywood says.

  ‘About the last thing Gecko said to me was to meet him in the void,’ I say. ‘Let me plug in, and I’ll go and ask him.’

  ‘I could get you into the void, but it is infinite. How would you find him?’ Tempo says.

  I hesitate. Does she know what I am? ‘I’ve done it before,’ I say.

  ‘We’d have to know you won’t contact anyone through Realtime,’ Heywood says. ‘If you do, PareCo will know you are there and try to trace you. Can we trust you?’

  Tempo shrugs. ‘I’d accept a promise not to.’

  ‘Let me plug in and see if I can find him. I won’t try to contact anyone else,’ I say, unsure as I say it if this is a lie or the truth.

  Her head tilts to one side; thinking? Then she shakes her head. ‘We’ll think this through and discuss our options, tonight.’

  It’s a quiet afternoon for me and Crystal. Everyone is busy, and she is assigned the task of watching me. She isn’t happy about it.

  ‘Just lock me in the bedroom already. I don’t care.’

  She shakes her head. ‘Tempo might. For some reason she felt it necessary to tell me to not be mean to you.’ She sighs, and scowls. ‘Also to answer any questions you may have.’

  ‘Really? Any questions?’ I think for a moment, and then all the questions start tumbling out. ‘What is this place, this house? Who is here, why are they here? What does everyone do? What—’

  ‘Slow down. It’s Heywood’s house; his family owns it. The basement is used as a safe house. For runaway Hackers, who don’t want to work for PareCo. We’re—’ and she hesitates ‘—sort of doing advanced Hacker training. With Tempo and others. We’re trying to break into PareCo inner systems, and to find out what they’re doing on Inaccessible Island. Haven’t managed it so far.’

  ‘Those boys at breakfast – and you – are young enough to all have the new Implants. How come you’re not traced by them?’

  ‘It’s a right pain, but we don’t use them. If you don’t use your Implant, you can’t be traced. Tempo has been trying to find a way to hack the new Implants like we can hack the old ones, to block PareCo from tracing them when they’re used. So far it hasn’t worked.’

  ‘Can’t you just have the Implants taken out?’

  ‘Removal surgery has been tried on Implant Addicts: they rarely survive, and if they do, well…’ She shudders, and there is real distress in her eyes.

  ‘Do you know someone that happened to?’

  ‘None of your business,’ she snaps. ‘Let’s just say it’s not a good option.’

  ‘Sorry. But wouldn’t you get found out when you plug in, anyhow?’

  ‘Only if you use Realtime.’

  That information settles. Hackers like Hex have to use Realtime to get into existing worlds and muck with them. Only S’hackers can get around that by going straight to the void.

  ‘So, that means you must all be S’hackers; you don’t have to use Realtime because you go to the void. So by advanced Hacker training you mean S’hacker training in void manipulation, is that it?’

  Her mouth hangs open. ‘How do you know about the void, and S’hackers? Did Gecko tell you?’ She looks shocked, angry, and I remember Gecko saying he was sworn not to. Some urge to protect him makes me lie.

  ‘No. My mother was Astra, remember? She was both a Hacker and a S’hacker. Like Tempo.’ I venture the latter, and Crystal doesn’t object: so Tempo is a S’hacker too, as I’d half remembered – half guessed.

  ‘Of course.’ She shakes her head. ‘Silly me. I should have realised Gecko would never tell you anything really important.’ She sits forward in her chair. ‘You haven’t asked me the one thing you really want to know, have you?’

  ‘Oh? What’s that?’

  ‘You want to ask about me and Gecko, don’t you?’ She grins, and I say nothing. Yes, I am curious, but I would never ask. Is it because I don’t want to give her the satisfaction, or because I’m afraid of what she might say? ‘Heywood told me, by the way. The real reason Gecko saved you – that you’re some sort of witness. Don’t feel bad.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘It’s part of Gecko’s job, you know. He’s, like, the best spy. The best at getting information from people, especially girls. By whatever means necessary. You’re not the first to be taken in.’

  I stare back at her, a denial on its way, but I bite it back. ‘Whatever,’ I say, and stretch out on the sofa, my back to Crystal. Eyes shut, breathing even, I pretend to fall asleep.

  Could it be true: Gecko and Crystal? There is some part of me that knows at least some of what she said is true – that he is good at getting information from people. He had me opening up about getting sick in Realtime almost as soon as we met, something I’ve never told anyone, apart from Nanna. Did he target me from the beginning; did he somehow know there was something different about me? And all that stuff he told me about PareCo: he was so open that at the time I wondered why. If he really thought PareCo was as rotten and dangerous as he said, shouldn’t he have been more cautious of me, a stranger? How’d he know I wouldn’t go and tell on him?

  I try to push thoughts of Gecko away and nap for real, but even without him to obsess over, my mind can’t stop spinning with everything that has happened, all that was said today. Something is troubling me beyond all the other mega-troubling stuff, and I shuffle through it all, trying to work out what it is. When it hits me I sit up and gasp.

  Crystal looks up from a book vid.

  ‘What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Is Tempo still here? I want to ask her something.’

  ‘She’s plugged in. Not worth my life to disturb her. What is it? Maybe I can help. Not that I can believe I just said that.’ She rolls her eyes.

  ‘It’s just something she said before. I’d said that I’d chosen to go to Inaccessible Island, and she said, had I really? That PareCo were never going to let me go anywhere else.’

  ‘And?’

  I swallow. ‘The reason I was on the transport to go there is because my grandmother died.’ I explain to her about the contract Dad signed to get my transfer; the clause about changed circumstances. ‘Could they have had something to do with her death?’

  ‘If they were interested in you for some reason – hard to imagine, but if they were – it’s possible. Knowing PareCo, it’s maybe even likely.’

  ‘If they did, then it’s my fault she died.’ I’m stricken. ‘I have to know.’

  She hesitates. ‘I’m rather good at hacking government records; I could see what cause of death is given. Though if PareCo did it, they’ve probably faked the records anyhow.’

  ‘Please.’

  She stares back at me, coolly. ‘I’ll think about it. But you’d owe me one. So, so much.’

  24

  Crystal unlocks my door late that night. ‘Come on,’ she says.

  I get up, rub sleep from my eyes. Follow her into the other room. She unlocks another door: narrow, dark stairs up. Servants’ stairs? They lead into a kitchen, then through to a really grand dining room with a massive wooden table and eight carved chairs. Floor to ceiling plush curtains line one wall. Heywood must be minted.

  He’s there, and Tempo. I g
lance at a grandfather clock in the corner. 2 a.m.?

  ‘Nice time for a meeting. What’s up?’

  ‘Sit down,’ Tempo says. ‘Would you like some hot chocolate?’ She pushes a steaming mug towards me, with marshmallows and sprinkles on top.

  A twig of memory pulls inside. I reach for it and take a sip, then another. Nice. ‘You used to make this for me, just like this. Didn’t you?’

  She smiles right into her eyes. ‘Almost the same. I couldn’t get quite the right chocolate.’

  Another memory tickles inside. Hot chocolate is for stubbed toes, skinned knees. Lost puppies. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Her face is grave. ‘I hate to have to tell you this. I wouldn’t have, but Crystal told me you worked it out.’

  ‘Tell me what?’ I say, but a yawning pit in my stomach knows, doesn’t it?

  ‘PareCo tricked your father into signing the consent for the university transfer with all its fine print. They were never going to allow you to go anywhere but where they wanted you to be.’

  I shake my head, wanting to deny it, to stop her from saying the words. Don’t let it be my fault. ‘Nanna died. They said it was her heart. The doctor said—’

  Her eyes are kind, but she shakes her head. ‘No, Luna. Not natural causes. Her Implant was geared up to cause a heart attack. Not difficult in someone of that age.’

  ‘But she was just a helpless old woman.’

  ‘It’s hard to hear, but you have to know the truth. Crystal managed to hack the medical report. It was classified, but she cracked the code and copied it so I could show you.’ She holds out a tablet. At the top of the screen it says Official Coroner’s report of Amelia Iverson. Nanna. I look up at Tempo. ‘Go on. Read it,’ she says.

  I take it and scan through. Much of it is medical mumbo jumbo that makes little sense, but the conclusion at the bottom is stark and clear:

  Cause of death: heart failure due to Implant acceleration.

  Only PareCo makes Implants; only PareCo controls them. They did this, they must have. Could they really have done it just to make me go to Inaccessible Island?

  It’s my fault. I blink back tears, struggle for control. How could they?

  Tempo puts her hand on mine. For once Crystal looks almost human. ‘We’ve all lost people to PareCo,’ Crystal says, and there are shadows in her eyes. Past pain, or fear for Gecko? Maybe both.

  ‘And my mother?’ I ask, almost whispering the words. ‘How about her?’

  I look at Tempo, and the answer is there, in her eyes, the gentle shake of her head. Gecko had hinted as much. I’d pushed it away, unable to even consider the possibility.

  ‘How? I was told she deliberately set her life support to fail if she died in the Game. To prove she was the best, she gambled with her life, and lost.’ She left me.

  ‘No, not true. She would never have done that – all lies, spread by PareCo to cover their tracks. Her PIP was sabotaged.’

  The pain slams into me, wants to take me under. And I fight to push it away, save it for later, when I’m alone.

  ‘I know you didn’t want to come here, Luna. But we had to keep you safe. PareCo were never going to leave you alone, let you live your own life.’

  ‘Why? Why me?’ I stare back at her. At her eye, black tattoos surrounding it. Silver that hides. She knows, doesn’t she? ‘It isn’t just what I witnessed at the test centre.’

  ‘You know, don’t you, Luna? At least somewhere inside, you must feel it.’

  Heywood and Crystal exchange puzzled glances. They have no idea what’s coming, do they?

  It isn’t just making hot chocolate that brought us upstairs. And Tempo isn’t just a night owl who likes her meetings in the middle of the night. There are no windows downstairs, other than the narrow high one in the small bathroom. Here there are floor to ceiling curtains: is it a clear night? I stand up. Flick the light switch by the door to plunge the room in darkness. I walk to the window, stroke the curtains: heavy velvet. They’d block every bit of sunlight. Or starshine. I grip them in my hands, and sweep them open.

  It’s a slender new moon tonight. It casts little light, but it is clear, and with all the light pollution laws these days the surrounding houses are dark. The stars shine brightly.

  I turn back to the others. A brilliant dazzle of silver surrounds the black marks around Tempo’s eye. Delicate snowflakes reappear on Crystal.

  Crystal gasps, stares at me, eyes wide. ‘You’re one of us?’ she says, echoing Gecko’s words just days before, but hers are said with dismay.

  Heywood looks between us, unable to see the silver markings himself. ‘Is Luna a S’hacker?’ he says, surprise in his voice.

  Tempo nods yes, turns to me. She smiles; are her eyes misting with tears? ‘I wanted you to be the one to acknowledge it. Welcome back to us, Luna.’

  I shake my head. ‘I really don’t know what this means. I’m not a Hacker, silver kind or otherwise. I didn’t even know I had these marks like my mother until just before I got here.’

  Tempo draws the curtains, and the silver marks around her eyes vanish. She puts the lights back on.

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ she says.

  I shrug. ‘Believe what you want. But there is a reason I haven’t got an Implant, y’know. I’m a Refuser.’

  Tempo sighs, shakes her head. ‘If only your father—’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Luna, darling. He wouldn’t let me see you after Astra died, out of some misguided attempt to keep you from your birthright. If only he had, you’d understand, you’d be prepared for what is coming. As it is I’m not sure you even can be prepared any more, without having trained all these years.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  Tempo looks at Heywood. ‘Luna and I need to talk on our own for a while now, about her family. We’ll go to the office downstairs.’

  She gets up, and I stand, follow her downstairs and into an office, surprised my feet can still move when everything inside feels so numb. She shuts the door.

  ‘What is it? What more could there possibly be about my family?’

  ‘I caught a glimpse of your necklace yesterday. Your mother’s. I’m so glad your dad gave it to you like she asked.’

  My hand moves towards my neck where the necklace hides under my clothes, and covers it protectively.

  ‘It’s a memory string, Luna. Memories your mother made for you. She always knew she was at risk; she was too visible. She made it for you to have if she wasn’t here to tell you herself. It’s been waiting for you all this time. It’ll explain much.’

  She was at risk. This echoes Gecko’s words: what did he say – that he couldn’t believe they left her alone for so long?

  Hot tears are forcing their way through no matter how I fight them.

  ‘Show me her necklace, Luna.’

  I hesitate, pull it out of my clothes. Struggle to undo the clasp with shaking hands, then study it closely. A memory string? It is made of interlocking silver beads; delicately, intricately carved. I peer closer: the swirls in the silver are very like S’hacker tattoos. No. Not just very like – they are exactly like, and not just any. They are miniature reproductions of Astra’s. ‘What are they?’

  ‘She programmed her memories inside silver from the void, and trapped them in these beads: an act of incredible power. You have to go to the void alone to release the memories.’

  ‘You’ll let me plug in?’

  ‘Of course. I understand your anger at being here not through your own choice. But it was the only way I could reach you. What happened to your grandmother, and your mother, could easily happen to you if PareCo discovers your abilities. We need you to be safe until your time comes. I trust you to do what is right when you know the truth.’

>   She stands, walks to the door that leads to the PIPs. Looks back. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘I don’t understand. Why do you need me to be safe? Until what time comes?’

  ‘We’ll let Astra tell you, in her own words. Come.’

  My head throbs. Is this for real? I stare at the door: an ordinary rectangular door. An ordinary office, with a desk and a few chairs. No windows. But everything feels slanted. The words she has spoken between these walls are so unreal, it’s like this place must be, too. I swallow. Stand, walk around the desk, as if moving, breathing, will make me feel more ordinary in my skin. It doesn’t work.

  Where before it was comforting, now the necklace feels hot, a weight around my neck. Memories from my mother, stored here for me, all this time? I divert to the room I sleep in to fish some ANDs out of my bag, swallow them and then follow Tempo to one of the PIPs.

  She enters an override password so it’ll allow me to plug in. I settle back on the sofa, listen to her instructions and wait for the connections to begin.

  The warm neural net takes over, but Tempo’s last words echo in my mind: This will only work once. Don’t waste them; the memories can only be released once, and then they’re gone, forever.

  25

  The silver hatch appears as soon as I enter my Realtime hallway, a solid sheet that spreads in seconds, then opens. The ladder drops down.

  But I pause. Tempo warned me not to respond to anything in Realtime, or use any Realtime doors; that it’d signal my presence to PareCo. But she didn’t say I couldn’t look.

  Messages? Two. One from Melrose, one from Dad, and neither is flashing urgent. I’m stunned. Doesn’t your only daughter disappearing after a dramatic transport crash rate some attention? Some panic, even? Frequent pleas to make contact at the very least?

  They don’t know. That’s it, isn’t it? PareCo hasn’t told anyone I’m missing. Disquiet ripples through me. As far as everyone knows, I’m on my way to Inaccessible Island for an extended stay. Only PareCo knows I’m missing, and if they don’t tell, no one else will. Though Hex was there; he knows. Wouldn’t he say something to Melrose, and she to my family? I push it aside to think about later, and reach for the ladder.