by Carol Riggs
I hum along to the tune I’m streaming, a song of lost love kept alive by the memory of one golden afternoon by a river. My humming grows into soft, bittersweet words as office complexes flash by my window. The song and I trail off a dozen seconds before the MT arrives at the Red Zone shelter. Across the aisle from me, the businessman stands and brushes lint from his suit. He gets off right behind me. When we reach the sidewalk, he touches my shoulder with a light hand.
“You have an exceptionally lovely voice, Miss,” he says, and walks away.
“Thank you,” I call out after him. I’m crazily pleased, which makes no sense. After all, it’s not my voice he complimented.
But it buoys me up, just the same.
I’m so not used to getting positive attention for my singing. I love this part of being Jodine.
I walk to the Institute grounds, humming the same song. At the double autodoors to the Clinic building, a redheaded Reducer gives me a broad smile as she exits.
“Keep losing that weight,” she says. “Don’t give up.”
“Same to you. You’re looking good.” I meet her eye, and in the process I bump into another, heavier Reducer coming out the doors. “Sorry,” I say, turning toward the guy.
“No worries,” the Reducer says.
I focus my gaze on him. Mischievous brown eyes, long lashes, double chin.
“Matt? Are you— Oh my gosh, you’re a Reducer!”
Matt’s mouth goes slack, and he gives an incredulous laugh. “You’re a Reducer, too? So your name isn’t Jodine.”
“No.” I grin. “It’s Morgan Dey.”
“Morgan.” He blinks as if he’s trying to get his mind wrapped around the word. “Nice to meet the real you. How bizarre. I’m Vonn Alexander.”
“Vonn,” I say, likewise dazed.
“Are you weighing in? I’m done, but I could wait for you and we could head to the park together.”
“That’d be great.” I can’t wipe the drunken smile off my face as we walk down the hall to the Weigh Center. We have more in common than I thought. Nice. I peek at his profile as he sits next to me. I’m dying to know what he really looks like. I’m not sure I can ask, for confidentiality reasons. Maybe we shouldn’t have even swapped real names.
Vonn leans toward me, looking into my eyes as if he’s trying to see beyond them, at the real me inside. “I started losing weight for Matt on Monday, the day we met in the park. When did you start?”
“This month. Lost twelve pounds since October first.”
“Inspiring. I’m on a nine-month program, squeezing in the part-time teaching. Matt would’ve lost his job otherwise.”
At that point, I hear my name called for weigh-in. “Be right back.”
I walk into Admittance. To my mortification, I’ve lost one measly pound since Monday. The midnight lasagna is likely the culprit, along with taking a slower pace around the park this week with Matt—I mean, Vonn. I return to the waiting room, making a heroic effort to keep my expression pleasant, hoping he won’t ask how I fared.
He rises to his feet. “Now we get to puff and pant our way to the MT. Oh, boy.”
We set off down the sidewalk. I want to know more about him. The only thing I know for sure is that he’s nineteen like the real Matt, since that’s how the program works. “My parents are okay with me doing this job, but my grandfather hates it. Are your parents and friends chill with you being a Reducer?”
“Some friends yes, some no. My mother thinks I’ve lost my mind. My dad passed away when I was twelve.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. I’m mostly glad Matt’s a loner, although that sounds terrible. He has no social life except for the teachers and kids where he works. I like being able to live offsite without worrying about running into someone he knows. Leo’s hyper about that sort of stuff.”
“I can relate.” Noni and her friends being a distasteful exception, of course. I give a sudden laugh. “Oh, man. I actually asked you if you wanted to join the Reducer program.”
“Pretty funny. But you were just doing your civic duty, helping round up people who stress the health care system.”
Even though he’s right, something about his statement hits me as wrong. The recruiting sounds a little insidious, phrased like that. I nibble on my fingernail, then stop and stare as I realize what I’m doing. Gross. Fingernail chewing is Jodine’s habit, not mine. Where is this coming from? Is Jodine’s body affecting my mind—like some sort of muscle memory—or are her residual memories taking over?
I don’t like either explanation. First the residual memories, then more blatant things like sprinkling oregano, snacking at midnight, and nibbling on fingernails. This job is sliding from bad to worse.
“I’m slowing you down,” Vonn says as we reach the park and begin walking. “You’re not getting as good of a workout.”
“I’ll make up for it later.” I concentrate on my breathing so I’ll quit thinking of chewing my fingernails.
Vonn nudges me with his elbow. “What would you be doing if you were in your own body? A bit of snogging down at the dance clubs?” He slips into a British accent for the last sentence and winks.
I burst out laughing. Why yes, maybe I would be doing that, if I found someone I wanted to be with, someone to kiss. “Dancing is great exercise and gives me serious Health Points. I also belong to a science club. Oh, and I have about three months of schooling left. The tutor bit was a lie, sorry.”
“No worries. I had to pretend I wasn’t a Reducer. One of my favorite things to do is indoor wall climbing at Rock Mountain.”
“Rock Mountain’s a blast! Although it’s spendy and way out in the Orange Zone.”
“I hear ya. It’s a long way even from the Blue Zone, where I normally live.”
We keep up an easy conversation. The words rush out now, as if an unseen dam has broken. After we finish our park loop, we walk two blocks to a café decorated in electric blue and lavender. Half-Moon Café, the sign says. Edge music strobes over the small tables and curved chairs. Aromas of toasted bagels, cinnamon, and mint drift into my nose.
“Cool place,” I say, eyeing a wallscreen TV that mutters to some customers on our left.
Vonn ambles toward the counter. “The fruit drinks here are tasty. They’ll make any blend you want—” He whips his gaze left.
I follow his stare to the TV. A flash news report has materialized, showing melted synthetic bushes, broken glass, and blackened sidewalks. Back east, there’s been some sort of minor bombing. The newscaster paces beside an electric fence, her face sober as she describes two people as injured. She reports that the four attackers who threw a series of handmade bottle bombs have been apprehended and are in custody.
The incident happened at The Body Institute’s eastern branch in Boston.
Chapter 13
Vonn and I sidle closer to the TV, drawn as a single unit. He swears under his breath.
Two people injured. Oh, no.
“Who’d do something like that?” I ask.
“I bet it’s the WHA. They’re getting extreme these days.” Vonn looks as grim as I feel.
The newscaster gives a brief background of the Institute and its five branches. I check out the images of three men and a woman in one corner of the holoscreen. The alleged bottle bombers. Sure enough, the caption for the attackers scrolls up as “known WHA members.”
This is bad. The protesters are becoming more and more violent. I won’t be able to finish my job if they keep pulling stunts like this. Man, I just want to hurry up, lose my targeted weight, and be done with this assignment. “The Institute had better make sure something like this doesn’t happen again,” I say.
“They should at least add more Enforcers outside the grounds.”
A servbot rises from behind the counter. “I’ll take your order when you’re ready.”
Vonn accesses his account on an exchange screen. He places his order, and I choose the same blend. My brain cells are having a hard
enough time trying to process the newsvid details. After the servbot mixes our drinks, Vonn and I sit, huddling over a dainty oval table.
His gaze meets mine. “The WHA is really ramping up their campaign against the Institute. Boston’s not the only place they’re targeting. Did you see the newsvid last week about the Reducer caught trying to sabotage ERT equipment in Seattle, Washington?”
“No. Why the haze would a Reducer do that?”
“Undercover work for the WHA. She pretended to agree with Institute ideals, got selected as a Reducer, and tried to sabotage the system from the inside.”
I have trouble swallowing my juice. “That’s serious. Without ERT, there’d be no Transfers until the equipment is rebuilt. We’d have to wait to get back into our real bodies.”
“Loaners would, too. But Leo said not to worry. They caught this woman before she damaged anything, and he said it happened because of a one-time screw-up in the selection process. The Seattle director knew the woman had strong ties to the WHA, but he okayed her application since her membership was more than three years ago. Bad judgment. He got fired.”
I’m positive Leo keeps a tighter rein on things than the Seattle branch director, but it sounds like he’s downplaying things again. Like he did with the residual memories.
“Fire bombs and attempted sabotage make me nervous,” I say. “I don’t want to worry about getting hit with a bottle bomb every time I go to the Clinic—if my parents even let me keep the job.” A hard pressure forms in my throat. I don’t have to be a proverbial rocket scientist to know Mom and Dad might pull me from the program, even though this attack happened back east. Granddad will also put extra pressure on them to cancel.
Vonn fiddles with his unopened straw. “I think you and I are safer, since we live offsite.”
“We still have to go to the Clinic. Before my Transfer, I got attacked by WHA protesters right at the front gates.”
“That’s…terrible. Is your real body okay?”
“Mostly scraped and bruised.” Vonn’s concerned, how sweet. And he’s level-headed enough to discuss this bottle bombing without freaking out. I like this guy. A simultaneous, depressing thought flies up and smacks me right between the eyes. I wince. “Vonn, you know what? When we become ourselves again, we won’t remember meeting in the park. This café. Exercising together. The things we’re talking about right now.”
He looks stricken. “That sucks.”
“Seriously. I doubt I missed anything when I stayed at the Clinic, but this time I’m doing new things as a Loaner. Meeting people, like you.” I study his face as he nods, trying to imagine what he looks like when he’s not in his Loaner body. When I open my mouth to ask, I lose my nerve. I don’t want him to think I’m only interested in his looks. “Do you think if we met as our real selves, we’d mesh?”
“One way to find out.” Vonn rips the paper from the end of his straw without taking his gaze from my face. “I’ll be done being Matt in August. We could get together, even if we don’t remember each other or what we’ve said and done. We’ll just have to find a sneaky way to set up a meeting so our jobs aren’t terminated. Carrier pigeons or secret code, or something.”
He’s serious about this, and amazingly, he wants to do it without even knowing what I look like in real life. I smile a full smile this time, despite the news of bottle bombs thrashing inside me. “Kind of like arranging a blind date for our other selves. I like that.”
“Then we’ll do it,” he says, and blows his straw paper across the table at me.
When my phone announces a message that night, I fortify myself with a deep breath and a shoulder roll.
Morgan, are you there? We’d like to discuss something with you.
How are my favorite parents?
I’m glad I’m using text instead of voice so I can cover up my jitters. Mom answers first.
Upset. Have you seen the newsvid about the fire bombs?
Dad chimes in, his words a different color on my screen.
At the Institute’s Boston branch, protesters threw cocktail bombs before getting stunned and arrested. They set bushes on fire and gave two people minor burns.
I saw that.
I hurry to speak a rebuttal text.
Did you get Leo’s message talking about how they’re going to do searches and bomb detection in a two-block radius from the entrance gates? They’ll do that at all five branches. And more Enforcers will patrol outside the fences.
Do you honestly think that’s going to solve the problem? Dad asks.
I don’t see why not. No one except workers will be allowed inside the gates.
Oh, sweetie, it’s not worth it, Mom says, and adds more objections.
You can’t predict what the WHA will do next. You can earn credits another way. We’ll get paid for October, and that will be enough. The band and I are planning to hit it big next week in Philadelphia anyway.
I can’t believe she wants to trade a sure chance of credits for an uncertain one. The music industry is such a gamble.
We don’t know if that’ll earn enough to pay half the debt by the December deadline, Mom. And I’m not done losing weight for my client. She really needs this to happen.
Dad’s words scroll out fast.
Morgan Renita Dey, you can’t be serious. As much as we need to make a huge dent in the bills, this is sounding dangerous. We can’t let you continue. I don’t think I have to tell you that Granddad agrees.
But I’m living offsite! I only go in to the Institute twice each week for about 10 minutes for my weigh-in and vitals. My Loaner’s parents aren’t thrilled either, but they’re not pulling her from the program. They think the extra security will be enough.
Sounds like they’re being naïve.
I hear the grumble behind Dad’s words.
Mom’s line appears under Dad’s.
Maybe we should give Mr. Behr a call and tell him we’re through.
We can’t do that.
No. I can’t quit now. Besides our looming remaining debt and my needing to help Jodine, Vonn and I haven’t even hatched a plan to meet up after our assignments are over. I won’t know how to find him when he becomes his real self.
Please. I want to do this. I need to. You supported me helping to change the world before, even with risks. I’m turning 18 soon, and if you take me out now I’ll just sign up again after I’m legal age.
Mom jumps in.
She has a point, Gregg. She’s old enough to make her own decisions.
We’re responsible for her until she’s 18, he counters.
I speak my text, clipped and hard.
Are things going to be suddenly different on December 10th? The situation will be the same, and I’ll feel the same.
Dad is silent. Stewing.
I’m going to think about this for a little while, he finally says.
Three days later, I recline on my back in the park grass with Vonn, thankfully still on the job despite its very real risks. A crisp breeze swirls around us while dense grass tickles my bare arms and feet. My toes wiggle next to Vonn’s. Bumpy clouds drift overhead.
“Werewolf munching on a hamburger,” Vonn announces, pointing.
“Are yours always about food?” I ask. “The one above the oak tree looks like a little girl riding on a lion. See, her hair is whipping back, and so is the lion’s mane.”
“I sort of see that.”
A flying insect darts into my ear, making me bolt upright. “Dumb bug! Flew right in like it knew where it was going.”
Vonn sits up beside me. “Is it out?”
“Yeah. I’m getting cold, though. Cloud watching works way better in the spring.” I grab my sweatshirt and pop it over my head.
Vonn’s smile is shifty as he reaches for his sweatshirt. “My mom would get super uptight if she saw me lying on the ground in a short-sleeved shirt. In November. Without socks or shoes.”
“Is she afraid you’ll get sick?”
“Of course. Is your mother as
coddling as mine?”
I shake my head. “Mine’s more relaxed, and she’s usually concentrating on her singing career. She works nights, so my dad and grandfather keep tabs on me more than she does.”
“My dad was the busy one in my family.”
“Was he gone a lot?” I ask carefully, remembering his dad has passed away.
“He traveled and job-hopped a lot. It drove my mom nuts. Extreme jobs, too. He was a stunt man for some minor vids, then he was an aerosuit tester out over the Grand Canyon. His last job was racing jet-cars at the Speedway…”
Something tightens in my gut as he trails off. Oh. That must be how his dad died. “I assume that’s why your mom’s coddly, and why she isn’t thrilled with you being a Reducer.”
“Right. Dangerous stuff. I should stay in my own body where I belong.”
“She sounds like my grandfather.” I smile. Vonn’s great about sharing serious things. To tell the truth, we’ve shared more lately than I ever did with other guys. With my last boyfriend, I spent more time dancing and kissing than talking. While that was a blast, I’m getting to know more about who Vonn really is beneath his skin. And I like what I’m learning.
I grab my sock and snap his arm with it. “It’s time to power-walk back through the park for our next session of laps.”
“Slave driver.” Vonn grunts as he tries to put on his socks.
“I love how you’re spending nine whole months to get Matt into shape. Now that’s dedication.”
“He’ll appreciate it. Leo and National Health Care will too.”
Leo. I yank my socks on and add my shoes. I had another residual flash last night while doing karaoke. There I was, finishing a song by my favorite band. As the last notes died away, I watched my fingers select a song I’ve never heard before. I sang an entire stanza on autopilot before I lost the thread of it and stared at the screen. That memory affected my actions for half a minute before I realized what was happening.
There’s a ghost inside me—a Jodine-shaped ghost. It gives me shivers every time I think about it. I hate the residuals, and I hate Leo’s lack of concern about them. They’re definitely getting worse. It’s like I’m trapped in some paranormal vid, or an episode of “Freak Out or Believe.” There has to be a logical, scientific reason behind it. Is it easier to access the residuals, the longer I’m in Jodine’s body? Or maybe I’m just unlucky enough to run around triggering her deep-seated memories.
