Mind Games

by Teri Terry

  I gesture. ‘Outside is awesome. How do we go there?’

  She frowns. ‘I’m not sure we can. It’s a reserve, remember?’

  ‘How much of a reserve can it be with a giant glass dome and the Trevi Fountain plonked in the middle of it? Besides, look: the sea. It’s all around. I bet you can see if from every room around the edges of this place.’

  ‘Give me a sec,’ she says, and her face goes blank. She’s gone longer than a sec. I start lugging my bag across the room and onto a sofa to unpack it.

  ‘There,’ she says, finally, and a map appears on my window. It shows the whole PareCo complex. The place is actually an octagon, an eight-sided figure. ‘That took a little digging. There aren’t any official exits apart from the lifts we came up in. But there are emergency exits.’ She points them out on the map, eight spaced around the compound at the bottom of each of the main stairwells, then shows me how to minimise the map on my interface so I can find it again.

  ‘Did you see what’s in the wardrobes?’ she asks, and when I shake my head, touches a panel on a side wall. It opens, and inside? Clothes.

  I run my hand across a row of tunics, beautifully soft, all the same but in different colours. Trousers and skirts to go with. Soft shoes in matching colours.

  ‘They just give us all this stuff?’

  ‘Yep. It’s part of the joy of working here, apparently. And I checked mine; they’re exactly my size,’ she says. ‘I’m going to unpack; dinner is in an hour. Not that I’ll ever wear my own stuff with all that to choose from.’

  Once I’m on my own I can’t resist. I pull on a soft blue tunic. It looks plain, simple, but somehow it just hangs right. Feels like wearing a warm hug, as do the matching trousers. All of the stuff is in pale and muted colours, not what I’d usually go for, but when I work out how to change my window wall into a mirror, they don’t just feel good. They look kind of wow.

  Next I tap the window and hunt for the intern directory Marina’d had up before. It had come and gone on the screen too fast for my eyes to scan.

  Directories listed include Virtual World Support, General Computing, Catering, Logistics, Staff Housing. Medical departments by the score. Think Tanks number 1 to 430? That’s a lot of thinking. Finally I find it: intern directory.

  I scroll it up and down and scan the names, then do it again more slowly. I’m here; Marina; Hex. Most are names I don’t recognise: thirty interns in total. Is that all? Who works in the Think Tanks?

  But no matter how many times I look, Gecko’s name simply isn’t there. Disappointment pulls, inside. And what does it mean? Either he’s here under another name, he lied when he said they were bringing him here, or he really is bonkers. So that is a win-win situation, right? If he’s somehow still here, good. If he’s not here, he’s bonkers, so just as well.

  But I can’t ignore a sinking feeling, one that says it could be lose-lose, instead. He’d said he was being held by PareCo, that he was being brought here against his will. If he was telling the truth and he’s not listed on the directory, what does that mean? What if something has happened to him?

  At dinner we’re in a glass-sided dining hall on the outside wall of the Centre. We watch the sun go down in awe while quiet servers bring course after course of some of the best food I’ve ever tasted.

  We’re at a long table, thirty of us: the twelve plus one – me – that arrived today, and the rest including Hex are the previous arrivals. The group I should have been with. But no Gecko.

  And all of us have been into our magic wardrobes, and are wearing tunics like mine, with soft trousers or skirts. It doesn’t even look too samey; somehow they’re a little different on everyone. How’d they get all our sizes exactly right? It feels a little weird, like someone has been busily measuring me while I sleep.

  Afterwards, Marina and I wander back to our rooms with the rest of the girls, and say goodnight. The boys are on a different floor. My room still has the outside screen on: the stars somehow look bigger here, more beautiful. Like they’re happier to shine on this wild, remote place than London. Part of me feels uncomfortable with this huge open wall, like I should have curtains across it, but there is nobody out there on this island. That, in itself, feels strange. In London it always felt like other people were inches away.

  My room has everything you could want, with one glaring exception: no PIP. I want to see Dad, make sure everything is good at home. It seems an aeon since I was there. Tomorrow I have to find one.

  I have a long shower in a bathroom so high-tech it takes me five minutes just to work out how to turn the water on. Wrap a towel around my body while I hunt through the wardrobe for a robe I’m sure I spotted earlier.

  Ding.

  The room light changes, and I swing back around to the window.

  Hex grins on the interface screen.

  I dive behind the sofa, put the robe on: it’s really short. Stand up cautiously, pulling it down with one hand and holding it closed with the other.

  He whistles. ‘Nice outfit!’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting you to appear all giant-sized on the wall of my bedroom!’

  He laughs. ‘There’s a privacy lock. If you’re asleep or wandering about naked. Not that I mind. Just tap either no calls, or no visual.’ He explains how to do it while I mentally address Marina for missing out this crucial bit of info.

  ‘So what’s up?’

  ‘Meet me by the fountain? We need to talk. And the dome is awesome at night; you need to see it. Do you remember the way?’

  ‘I’ll work it out. Give me ten.’

  He signs off and I throw on some fresh clothes from the endless wardrobe, work out the high-tech high-speed hairdryer, and am sorted in minutes. I slip out of my room, down the hall to the stairs. Are there detectors? None that I can see.

  I take the stairs down and soon find the right door, and step out under the glass.

  It’s still dazzling, but not like this afternoon when sunglasses were needed. Hex isn’t here yet. The vast space is empty and quiet, and I walk carefully across the floor, somehow wanting each step to be silent, to not disturb what my eyes are drinking in. The night sky is clear; stars are endlessly reflected over and over in the glass, on the shiny floor, in the clear water of the fountain. The swishing and splashing of the water is the only sound. The stars reflect everywhere – patterns of silvery light on my skin, my clothes. I stare at my reflection in the star-speckled water, and almost imagine I see silver winding around my eye.

  I hear a distant door open, and turn. Hex waves and crosses the floor.

  ‘Alone at last. I’ve been dying to talk to you,’ Hex says, points at the steps by the fountain. I sit next to him. ‘Where’ve you been, Luna?’

  I know what I’m supposed to say. But nobody else is here, and this is Hex.

  I sigh. ‘I don’t know. You probably know more about it than I do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t remember anything since the day before the transport left. One moment it was the night before; the next, I was in this café in London. Dr Rafferty came and got me. They did scans and all sorts of tests; I found out I’d lost six days. They said my memories aren’t suppressed, they’re actually missing – like they never existed, as if somebody cut them out of my brain.’

  ‘Wow.’ He ruffles his hair, shock in his eyes.

  ‘Now tell me everything you know about it. Please.’

  ‘Of course. You were on the transport. I was surprised to see you, thought you were transferred to London Uni?’

  ‘The transfer was revoked when my nanna died.’

  ‘Right. That’s what you told me. And then Gecko got on the transport—’

  ‘He was on the transport? Then why isn’t he here?’

  ‘He asked to sit with you. I switched seats with him.’ He s
wears under his breath. ‘I kept thinking back to that moment, and thinking, if only I hadn’t.’

  ‘I don’t understand. What happened?’

  ‘There was a crash; the transport crashed. People flying through the air. Lucky no one was seriously hurt. Then Gecko pushed you out through an emergency exit.’

  A shiver goes up my back. Is that why the sight of that emergency exit on the plane freaked me out?

  ‘I’m really sorry, Luna. Will you forgive me?’

  ‘What for?’

  Hex looks miserable. ‘Back when we first got to the test centre, Gecko asked me to introduce you to him, to get you to sit with us at dinner that first night. I should have told you. I just figured he fancied you; I didn’t think he was planning to kidnap you.’

  ‘He kidnapped me?’

  ‘He dragged you away after the crash. I could see you were struggling but couldn’t get to you in time to help. He must be a total nutter, Luna. A psycho. Thank God he’s not here and you’re all right.’

  I look away, to the water splashing in the fountain.

  So is Gecko completely bonkersville after all? Did he really kidnap me? He must have; Hex saw it happen. Where did he take me? My stomach twists. If he really has lost it, then all that stuff he said about PareCo, and how Jezzamine and Danny died, could be delusions. Or even worse: lies.

  I’m relieved that their deaths may have been acccidents after all. But being right doesn’t feel good. It feels sad. A blue wave of loss, of solitude, washes over me, and I sigh, head in hands. Gecko with the crazy, warm glint in his eyes, and that adventure we had together: the magical trip to the waterfall world. But not again. He’s not here; not now, not ever.

  ‘Luna? Do you forgive me?’

  I look up at Hex. His tattooed face is tortured in the starlight, black swirls twisting and broken on white skin where the frown wrinkles his brow. Not like Gecko. Gecko would be beautiful in starshine, dark skin warm with S’hacker silver winding around his eye. Like Astra.

  I try to push away tears that want to splash on marble, to join the fountain. ‘Of course I do. You didn’t know; neither did I.’

  His arms encircle me for a hug, even more crushing than the beach one. ‘Don’t worry about Gecko or anyone else, Luna. Nothing like that is ever going to happen again, not with me here. You couldn’t be safer.’

  I wriggle away. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not planning on getting kidnapped again any time soon. And I’ll try to keep away from emergency exits at all times.’

  His dark eyes are serious, way too serious. This isn’t the Hex I know.

  I punch him in the arm. ‘Chill out, mate. How’s Melrose?’

  He shrugs. ‘She’s fine; she loves university except for the homework. She’s the same, but I’m not. This place changes you. It changes what you think you want.’ His eyes, still not laughing, hold mine, and for a moment I can’t breathe. The black swirls around his eyes have multiplied: there are more Hacker marks there now than there used to be. What has he been up to to earn them? My curious hand wants to reach up and trace them, and starts to move of its own accord.

  I pull my hand back to my side, and stand up. ‘Right. OK. Good night, Hex.’ I practically run out of the place, this time not careful to silence my footsteps, but the clattering doesn’t hang loud in the stillness. Instead it is almost muffled, as if this austere space doesn’t allow it, doesn’t like messy people with their messy feelings and sounds. Behind me I hear Hex laugh.

  32

  ‘Good morning! Today we begin phase one: Exploration. Also known as exploring strange new worlds!’ We’ve assembled as instructed in a meeting room, and the Beamer who greeted us on arrival is back: her smile is so wide and her teeth so sparkling, it’s almost hard to look at her.

  ‘We’re trying to find out where you are best suited to fit in PareCo’s organisation. There are many branches: from technicians all the way up to VeeDub controllers, or even working here at the Centre itself. Don’t worry about any of that today, just have some fun. You’ll have free access to all PareCo worlds, so knock yourselves out. See how many you can visit.’

  Where you fit best? Nowhere has to be the answer for me. Unless it is working at the Centre: they must have cooks and cleaners here. Imagine if I ended up as chief Think Tank toilet scrubber? That’d make Goodwin from school so happy.

  ‘There are advanced MD-PIP stations here at the Centre: MD stands for multi-dimensional. They bypass Realtime and take you straight to PareCo’s Multi-dimensional Gateway to all the virtual worlds. For now, just explore as you like, but stay in pairs. Be back by eight for dinner tonight; after dinner, your time is your own.

  ‘The MD-PIPs run on Implant technology. Which one of you is Luna?’

  Eyes turn towards me; I raise a hand.

  ‘For now, you’ll have to use an old-style PIP without an Implant interface. A senior intern will escort you to the Gateway.’ There’s a knock on the door; Hex peeks in. ‘And there is our volunteer now.’

  We head down the hall as a group. I hang back and slip a few ANDs into my mouth behind my hand. The others disappear one by one into rooms with MD-PIPs on the way, until Hex and I are alone.

  It feels a bit weird after running out on him last night. Why’d I do that? He’s just Hex. This is mental.

  ‘Sorry I dashed last night. All that stuff we talked about was a bit much.’

  He grins. ‘Oh, really? I thought you were just overcome by my charms, and ran away.’

  I roll my eyes, relieved he’s back to joking. ‘Sure, that’s it. So you got the short straw this morning?’

  Hex shrugs. ‘You can’t use the MD-PIP so have to go through the void. The void is kind of the stuff PareCo makes all the worlds from – exciting!’

  I look at him curiously. ‘Is this void thing new?’

  He raises an eyebrow. ‘It’s been there forever.’

  ‘New to you I mean, idiot.’

  ‘There were rumours about it, but I’d never seen it until I came to Inac. It was part of the info dump you get when you arrive here. Which you’ve missed. Anyhow, best way to learn is to step out into it. But the void can be disorienting; I wanted to take you there myself.’

  He’s looking all protective; I wonder what he’d say if he knew I’ve already been there with Gecko, and by myself? My smile falls away. I sigh. It’s lucky I can get out of the void by myself; maybe Gecko would have left me there, lost and wandering in the void forever.

  ‘What is it? Is something wrong?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. What are the MD-PIPs like? Are they better?’

  ‘They’re awesome. Instant connection to the MD Gateway to the worlds. We’ll still get you there now, it’s just more of a faff.’

  He shows me to an empty room with a conventional PIP. ‘Meet you in your hallway in a tick?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I settle into the PIP. It’s way, way grander than the one in my bedroom at home, with full life support for extended use. It’s plush, instantly responsive to my body. Even the neural net feels softer – warm, not jarring.

  The hallway appears. I may have taken the tablets a little late; my stomach is twisting. I breathe, in, out, in, out, and it subsides, just as Hex appears through a friends door.

  ‘Hex, before we go, can I say hello to my dad?’

  He hesitates.

  ‘Please? I haven’t been able to plug in since I left home. They didn’t tell my family I was missing; they must think I’m ignoring them.’

  ‘OK. But be quick, and I have to come with you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I promised I’d see you to the Gateway, and not let you out of my sight.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘If you must.’

  I hit respond to Dad’s message. Answer with are you there?

  Moments later
he answers back with a yes.

  I open his door, and there he is: today he is Sherlock, complete with silly hat.

  ‘Dad!’ And this time it is me that runs to him, hugs him. ‘I miss you. Is everyone OK at home?’

  He pulls away a little, looks in my eyes. A little disconcerting when he is rather gorgeous as Sherlock no. 27. ‘Everyone is fine. And just starting to wonder how you’ve been getting on. Is everything all right?’

  Hex coughs.

  ‘Sorry. Dad, have you met Hex? We’re on our way to some training thing, but he’s snuck me in for a minute to see you.’

  They shake hands. ‘Thanks for bringing her by,’ Dad says. He turns back to me. ‘Listen, you: I know trouble is your middle name, but try to stay out of it.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘I’ll try.’ But trying doesn’t always help.

  He winks, as if he heard my thought. ‘Do what you can.’

  ‘We should probably go. Sorry,’ Hex says.

  Dad reaches out a hand to my cheek, then touches my necklace. ‘That looks good on you, but somehow different.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m taking my super-sleuthing too far. I imagined it looks longer than it used to. Must be because Astra was taller. Take care.’

  Hex and I step back through the door to my hallway, and I wave goodbye as the door shuts. ‘Can I answer Melrose’s messages?’

  ‘Only if you’re very, very fast. I’m going to be late for my session.’

  There are three from Melrose now. All a variation of are you OK, how are you doing over there? Hidden in the words: how is Hex? I sigh. Quickly answer: I’m fine, I’ll call to chat as soon as I can. Hit send.

  ‘Done. Now what?’ I say, expecting a silver hatch and a ladder to appear in the roof.

  ‘Your Realtime has been upgraded. You’ve got a void access door.’ He gestures down the end of the hall, but it’s a proper door. It’s not even silver. I’m sort of disappointed.

  We step through it and straight into the void. The door swings shut behind us, but doesn’t vanish like the hatches. It’s outlined in darkness.