by Carol Riggs
Absolutely. I can arrange that. So do you want to keep Reducing for Jodine?
I have to talk to my dad first.
I refuse to let Leo be pushy and call the shots like he usually does.
I’ve already contacted your father. Although he’s not pleased, he said it’s ultimately up to you, since you’re almost eighteen. He said he’s not a risk-taker, but he does feel better about you continuing since you won’t be going to the Clinic for weigh-ins.
Right. Dad’s robotics job for the last sixteen years has been safe, secure, and boring. On the other hand, look where my fearless risk-taking and so-called courage has gotten me lately. The urge hits me to fling my phone across the street and watch it shatter. I resist and try to keep breathing like a normal human being. I hate being in this situation, having to make this decision.
Whether I like it or not, I’m stuck trading in Jodine’s body for a criminal model—unless I want to gamble on doing a legal battle with the Kowalczyks.
Which I don’t.
So the big question now is when. Whether I want to continue being a Reducer for Jodine.
Man. I must be certifiable to even consider it. My family desperately needs the credits, but I don’t want to be involved with the Institute anymore. Really, I don’t.
I need more time to think, I finally say. I’ll let you know in a day or two.
Ignoring the sputtering text scrolling across my screen, I sign off.
When I arrive back at the Clinic, I leave the raincoat for the closetbot to dry and go up to my dorm room. For privacy, I text Vonn from my new phone.
I’m at the Clinic and have to make a hard choice. Need to talk.
Pacing from the bed to the door and back, I chew one fingernail half off before I notice. I mutter a few swear words. Fingernail-munching is Jodine’s freaking habit, not mine. Then I bite off the other half to match. Is Vonn going to answer, or is he busy doing something else? Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered him with this right now.
My phone blings. It’s Vonn.
Can you meet me at the park in 15?
I tap out a quick affirmative and dash downstairs, grabbing the raincoat from the lobby again. I run to the MT shelter and catch the next train to the park. My fingers twine in my lap. When I reach my stop and race to our bench, I find Vonn wearing a large hooded coat that looks like a poncho.
“Great to see you,” he says, giving me a soggy but tight hug. A glimmer of his old mischievous self has returned to his eyes. “Let’s exercise while we talk, if you don’t mind.”
I start with him along the path and tell him my dilemma.
“I can’t believe they’re asking you to do that,” Vonn exclaims when I finish. “Do they really have that many bodies your age on death row? Female ones?”
I startle. “I didn’t even think about how old they are, how many, or the gender. Leo didn’t say.”
“Of course he didn’t, since he wants you to say yes. Anyway, you were never charged up about how this body looks. Maybe you can get one you like better.”
I shove my hands into my coat pockets. “I don’t really have a choice. Mostly, I need to decide whether to get the Spare body now or after I finish my assignment.”
He throws his arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “To be selfish, Miss Fitness, I’d like you to continue your assignment so we can keep losing weight together. If you get put into a new body now, you’ll be off in the Yellow Zone doing science experiments with your friends and club dancing with hot skinny guys.”
I grin, a sudden warmth thawing me from the inside out. “It’d be sly to keep doing weight loss with you. I’m just really crimped at the Institute and Leo right now for springing this decision on me. That the Spares exist in the first place. Can you imagine if the WHA found out the Institute was stripping people’s minds and inserting other brainmaps into their bodies?”
“I know. Major public outrage…and speaking of the WHA, yesterday the maintenance technician who worked at our Institute branch got arrested. He’s the one who planted the bomb. One of his jobs was to repair and keep all the bots running well. He inserted the bomb into a floor-cleaning bot that travels through these little tunnels into the high-security room where our bodies were kept. The suspended animation room. The bomb itself wasn’t huge, but the chemicals in the suspended animation solution caused a chain reaction that magnified the explosion. He did that on purpose.”
I stare at Vonn’s face under his dripping poncho hood. “Seriously? What the haze did he do it for, and what’s that got to do with the WHA?”
“The guy’s sister was a Reducer, and she got her contract terminated for illegal drug use. She wasn’t paid for her assignment, so they both got mad. When she joined the WHA, he agreed to do the bombing for them if they provided the materials.”
“That’s insane! Because of a rightfully terminated contract? All those Institute workers who were killed, and all our real bodies—” I stop before I haul off and punch something, or cry. Or both.
“I know. It’s warped and selfish. Of course the WHA denies it had anything to do with the bombing, saying the technician plotted it all on his own.”
“Naturally. Just like it was a coincidence the backup files in Denver happened to be sabotaged on exactly the same day.” I’m breathing heavily with a pain in my chest, and it has nothing to do with how far I’ve walked. I’m sick of dealing with the Institute, and I hate the WHA. Even if the WHA is right about some of their claims, there must be less violent ways of protesting those things. They’d really go ballistic if they heard about the Spares—
Wait a minute.
I grab Vonn’s free arm so suddenly it makes him flinch. “Freak it all, the Spares! Remember when I was wondering whether the Institute was using Reducers in Loaner bodies for things other than weight loss? Spying on people and stuff? I think the WHA and I were on the wrong track. The Reducers aren’t the ones who could do that. It’d be lots easier to insert someone’s brainmap into a stripped-down Spare for those sorts of things.”
Vonn sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re right,” he says after a tense second. “The Spares’ bodies are anonymous, and no one would miss them. The Institute could pop people’s brainmaps in and out of those bodies whenever it wanted.”
“Exactly. Talk about major human rights violations. If the Institute has empty bodies from death row, it could use them to commit burglaries…or assassinations.” I gulp. I’m sounding like Walter Herry in his freaking conspiracy vid. I hate to admit it, but he had some valid suspicions back then. “It could use them as disposable bodies for high-risk jobs. It could even sell bodies to wealthy people who don’t want to die or who are tired of their own bodies. The owners’ brainmaps could be kept on file while they checked out bodies like a lending library.”
“Creepy.” Vonn looks as if he has a bad taste in his mouth. “The identity shuffling that’s possible is mind-blowing—and illegal. Do you think the Institute is really doing these things? Just because they can do it doesn’t mean they actually are.”
“I don’t know. I’d sure like to know.”
“And I’m not a fan of Leo after what he pulled with our TeenDom texts, but just because he knows about the Spares doesn’t mean he’s actively involved with anything shady about them. That’s a lot more serious stuff to suspect him of.”
“Leo told me to lie to my parents,” I say, “and he didn’t tell me about the residual memories and the Spares until he was forced to say something. Herry, the head of the WHA, also said Leo started working at the Institute a little more than a year ago. Dr. K. told me that’s about when the Spares program started. It’s also the same time the government increased weight fines and funneled more clients to the Institute…to Leo. Very coincidental.”
“Definitely, but we have no proof any of that sinister stuff is true.” Vonn guides me off the path to let two rain-drenched women jog by, and then he pins me with a concerned gaze. “The only thing we know for sure is that the Institute keeps a
bunch of Spares tucked away that hardly anyone else knows about, just in case a Loaner’s body expires. And that Leo is aware of them. The whole idea of the Spares is questionable, although for everything except maybe Chad’s Transfer into Steven, it could all be perfectly legal.”
“I know, I know.” I chew on the edge of my fingernail. Vonn may be right, but if Leo fudged the rules for Steven, there’s a huge likelihood that other things in the program are also shifty.
We stand there while the wet pounding of rain encircles us. No one else is around. Water drips from our faces as we study each other from under our hoods. Vonn’s face is reddened from the chill of the wind. Everything around us except for the soaked grass at our feet looks as cold-gray as death—the sky and the sidewalk and the near-naked trees.
Vonn flicks a drop from the tip of my nose and gives me a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you texted me, Morgan. It’s great to talk to someone about this stuff. Even if we don’t have answers yet.”
His tender words crack something inside me. I clasp his hands and pretend the sudden moisture on my face is from the rain. “It’s nice to see you acting more like yourself. But I honestly don’t know what to do about being a Reducer or getting a Spare. I’m so confused.”
“What does your gut, deep down, tell you to do?”
I breathe in damp air through my nostrils and close my eyes. Tangled sensations scrape through me like metal claws. I’m tainted by everything that’s happened in the past months. I’m scorched by burns of anger and betrayal, scarred by needles of fear and loss. Despite all that, in one distant corner, there’s a small but bright torch of determination and forceful will. It’s fanned by the powerful warm glow of Vonn’s feelings for me.
No. Giving up and withdrawing at this point is not an option.
When I open my eyes, Vonn is waiting with an expectant and caring expression, still looking deep into my face.
“I’ve decided I’m going to keep being a Reducer,” I tell him. “For my family and Jodine. For you as my exercise buddy. I’m going to earn credits for my family, no matter what the risks. And while I’m finishing my assignment, I’m going to start a personal crusade against the Institute. Against Leo. I’m through trusting him and doing what he says. I’m going to do some serious undercover sleuthing and find out what’s really happening at The Body Institute.”
Chapter 24
The following evening, I stand beside Jodine’s bed and scan the poster-lined walls, the window seat, and the humongous deskscreen platform. I have to admit, being in this room again feels like coming home, like things have returned to the way they should be. I’m not sure it’s my own self who’s responding, or something deep inside Jodine’s body. I suspect it’s from Jodine.
Because I shouldn’t be here, inside someone else. It’s crazy to be Reducing again, even if I do want to do some sleuthing to take down Leo and maybe the entire Institute with him. Such a risky job. Yet here I am, after a long afternoon at the Clinic, getting a new backup brainmap generated, since I’m resuming my assignment. Jodine’s body legally belongs to her again.
Now there’s an eerie thought…right now I don’t really belong to any body.
I place my Institute phone on the desk and pull out my own phone from under my shirt. Morgan Dey, phone-smuggler extraordinaire. Even though the Clinic personnel kept my bag before I left the dorms, they didn’t get my phone. This will come in handy if I need to call Vonn or do something I don’t want the Institute to track.
Making sure my phone is charged and on silent mode, I slip into the closet to hide it in the white box. Having another phone is against my contract rules, but there are more important things to worry about. I’ll just have to be extra careful not to get caught and end up with my contract terminated. I’d lose all the credits I’ve been working so hard for, as well as my inside track on the Institute for more convenient spying.
I leave my phone in the closet and turn to leave. My glance is snagged by Jodine’s fruit painting hanging over the doorway. Mrs. K. must’ve returned it there so Jodine wouldn’t know she took it down. I wince. Jodine’s going to notice the junk food missing from the white box, but that can’t be helped. I’m sure she’ll think her diary is safe, since it has a password, even if I possess her fingerprint for the bio-lock.
I’d really like to meet Jodine after this is over. We could compare notes and see if any of her residual memories accidentally got added to my brainmap generation today. Those memories aren’t in Jodine’s original backup file that Dr. K. saved—which means I’d remember the memory, not her. Which would be terrible. What if her special memory of painting that fruit or defeating the cyber-dragon got copied into my backup? Or even the memory of Gavin’s music-room kiss? She would read it in her diary but wouldn’t be able to remember it happening.
Even at the end of a normal assignment, any Loaner’s residuals might be accidentally scooped up and privacy-deleted when a Reducer left a body. Gone forever, wiped out with the Reducer’s assignment memories. Neither the Loaner nor Reducer would remember the memory.
Bad news. Faulty tech.
It’s complex to think about, but it all comes down to Jodine possibly losing some of her strongest, most emotional memories. Permanently. Worse than that, I might have lost a few of my memories during today’s backup if they stuck in Jodine’s brain and didn’t get copied. Also permanently. She’ll keep them, not me.
I wonder if Shelby Johnson has any of my memories, random strays that stuck in her brain and didn’t get canceled out with my Reducer memories in June. I can chase that angle tomorrow. I’ll find Shelby’s information online and see if she’ll have a quiet little chat with me somewhere.
On my Institute phone, I sign into my financial account and discover my condolence settlement is there. About time. I apply all except one hundred of the ten thousand credits to Gramma’s hospital bills and exit. That’s what I can pay right now. Since I’m back to being a Reducer, I won’t get the first installment of my weight loss credits until the end of December.
I shift the stuffed animals to one side of the bed rather than the window seat. They’re good company after all. I’m adjusting a panda when a chirp comes from the ceiling vent, and the green airbot shoots out.
I straighten and smile. “Hate to say it, but I missed you, kid.”
The bot emits a soft mechanical purr. As it drifts closer to me, my Institute phone rings. Cuddly critter-bot reunion interrupted.
Good evening, Morgan.
It’s Leo, of course.
What’s up in Seattle?
It’s a good thing he can’t hear my grumpy tone.
The usual challenges, he says.
Listen, I’m calling to see how it went at the Clinic this afternoon. I saw you signed the contract of intention to return Jodine’s body and accept a Spare, but I didn’t have a chance to check how your backup went with the replacement equipment.
There wasn’t any problem. The doctor verified my brainmap file afterward with the computer, and said it looked complete.
As complete and accurate as ERT can be, anyway.
Good. And I assume you got your tracking chip implanted.
I rub my left forearm where the needle went in. That’s one more thing added to my list of foul things about the Institute. Good thing Vonn’s not a Reducer anymore, or he’d be chipped too, and Leo would know how much we hang out together. We’d get terminated, pronto.
Yes, and I’m not keen on it. It’s like I’m some sort of tagged animal, set loose for observation.
If you want to be safe, you have to be willing to sacrifice a few things. That’s the direction the world’s heading, Morgan.
I bristle. I wonder what, exactly, he thinks the future world will look like and how the Institute will factor into it. The tracking chip might prevent things like the ERT equipment sabotage in Seattle, but it makes me feel like I’m Institute property. It’s as though Reducers, Loaners, and even the Spares are Leo’s personal chess pieces to direct and c
ontrol.
Man, I’d sure like to know if he’s involved in illegal activities with the Spares.
Hey, those Spares could be useful in a future world, too.
I plow onward, hoping my text words come across more casual and innocent than I’m feeling.
They’d come in really handy for someone who was dying and needed a new body. Like if the president or other famous person got a terminal illness. Or the FBI could use them to defuse a bomb or do a hostage rescue. The CIA could use them for spies, because there’d always be a backup of the brainmaps.
A brief pause happens before Leo’s words scroll out.
That might be true, but it’s a more complex issue than you realize. Ethics, legalities, human rights, and so on.
That’s a pretty careful, generic answer. Forget it. There’s no point in trying to fish for more information, since he’s not cooperating, and I’m tired. I mumble a parting and tap off the call.
“Lights out,” I tell the room and slip into bed. A mild darkness envelops me while the humming of the airbot drifts into my ears. It seems content. Maybe it thinks Jodine is back.
I won’t let on to it that that isn’t true.
The electric blue and lavender of the Half-Moon Café surround me, along with people who are spreading cream cheese on bagels and sipping fruit drinks. I check the time on my Institute phone once more and chew on my lower lip, even though my first impulse is to gnaw off a fingernail. 1538 already. Where’s Shelby? She’s late. The longer I sit here waiting to do something forbidden, the more my stomach churns.
I wait a few more minutes. A blonde with a pretty face wearing a short ski coat, fuzzy-topped boots, and tight jeans breezes through the front door. She scans the crowd and easily spots me. I wave her over.
“You look great.” My envy isn’t difficult to fake.
Shelby sits and smiles. “Thanks, Lucy. Lucy Callahan, right? How did you find my phone number to text me, anyway?”
“I went to CyberFace to get your dad’s name and Zone, then the online Cell Directory. Sorry to act like a stalker, but I have to get some straight info. Can I buy you something to drink?”
