by Laure Eve
‘Please,’ whispered the technician. ‘I’m not. It’s just funny dreams, sometimes. That’s all. I can’t do all the weird jackstuff you can do. It’s just dreams! I just ignore them! I’m fine! I’m normal!’
Wren was mystified. ‘Ignore them? How can you ignore them? It’s like ignoring the fact that you have arms.’
‘I don’t care! I just want to be normal!’
‘Well, you’re not. And I hope you’re happy taking my place as test bunny, because that’s all you have to look forward to now.’
The technician sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.
‘They won’t,’ he said. ‘I’m a Worlder. I’m a citizen. I love World.’
‘You might want to think about alternate plans,’ said Wren, not unsympathetically.
The technician glared at him. ‘We’re not a nation of torturers, all right? Look, you agreed to those tests! We didn’t force you, did we?’
‘If by “force” you mean “offered no other choice” – yes, you did. If I want to stay in World, I have to do it. So what kind of choice is that?’
‘If you hate it so much, why don’t you just leave?’
Wren was silent.
‘You stay because you like it,’ he said. ‘And because it’s convenient.’
Wren looked at him sharply. ‘What would you know about it?’
‘I know plenty. You’re all the same. Expecting to be handed everything on a plate just because you can do something other people can’t.’
The technician sneered. He had small eyes and a tired, puffy face.
‘You should all be locked up,’ he said. ‘You’re not worth the trouble.’
From outside the room they were in came a noise. A far-off roar, wafting in between the stones.
That was fast. They weren’t normally so fast.
The technician’s eyes went wide.
‘What was that?’ he whispered.
Wren tried to smile a nasty smile, but his breath had grown short – an instant response to that sound. You never got used to it. You were never unafraid here.
One day you’ll stand in front of one of them and talk to it. And it will listen.
Wren straightened. ‘Something you don’t ever want to meet.’
‘Wait! Where are you going?’
‘Back,’ he said, as if it were obvious.
‘You can’t leave me here!’
He shrugged. ‘You’re Talented, you can get back by yourself.’
‘Wait!’
Wren ignored him. The prick had made his feelings clear. This was only what he deserved.
‘I can help you!’
‘Of course you can,’ he said soothingly, searching for that feeling behind his shoulder blades – the tug that meant ‘normal’, the path out of here that would lead him back to the life he hated.
‘I can! Whatever you want! I can get it! Information! Or … ’ The technician searched wildly. ‘A way out of the city?’
Wren sighed. ‘I’m not a criminal, idiot. I don’t want to live off-grid like some jacking Technophobe.’
But then an idea came to him. Perfect. Fated, almost. He turned.
‘I’ll make you a deal, though,’ he said, striving for calm.
‘Please! Whatever you want!’
Wren smiled. It was almost too easy.
‘You’re going to get me access to the inducer drug you just pumped me full of. You’re going to get it for me whenever I want it. And when we get back in front of Greta, you’re going to lie and say it doesn’t work. Clear?’
The technician looked astonished. To his credit, he thought fast.
‘What do I get out of this?’ he said.
‘You get me not telling Greta that you’re a lying Talented sack of shit. The rest is up to you. See if you can wriggle out of it. I promise I won’t say anything. I’ll back you up. Deal?’
‘What if I can’t get you access to the drug?’
‘Then you have a problem.’
The technician glanced around the room in a panic, as if something in it could help him decide. But there was just stone, reeking of fear, and the noises outside. They were getting louder.
‘Decide fast,’ said Wren, impatient. ‘That thing will be here soon. Do we have a deal?’
The technician licked his lips nervously.
‘What happened? Wren! WREN!’
He stirred in the test chair. His head had lolled to one side and the inside of his cheek throbbed alarmingly from where he’d apparently bitten it. The metal tang of blood glossed his tongue and he swallowed, grimacing.
There was a groan from the floor. The technician.
The other was busy scanning Wren’s Life implant readouts, from the glazed look in his eyes.
‘Wren, answer me,’ came Greta’s sharp voice.
Just SHUT UP a minute, would you?
‘Heart rate elevated, but nothing to worry about,’ said the other technician, a little frown on his thin face. ‘No other abnormal readings.’
‘Oh good,’ Wren managed, his words thick and clotted.
‘What happened?’
‘I obviously passed out,’ he said, trying to sit up.
‘Obviously,’ said Greta.
‘How long was I unconscious?’
‘Twenty seconds, perhaps.’
‘What?’ said Wren. He couldn’t hide his astonishment. It had felt a lot longer. It had been a lot longer, surely.
‘Why are you surprised?’
‘I feel like crap,’ he said, forcing irritation into his voice. ‘It seemed longer than that.’
‘What happened?’
He took a deliberate moment. ‘Nothing,’ he said at last, with a puzzled air. ‘Just unconscious. I don’t remember anything.’
‘You didn’t Jump?’ Greta said.
‘Obviously not.’
‘Not even a little mind Jump?’
‘I don’t think being knocked out can be counted as a mind Jump, no.’
‘So what happened to him?’ She pointed to the technician he’d inadvertently dragged with him.
Wren shrugged. Offering an explanation would sound rehearsed. ‘No idea. What did happen to him?’
‘He fell unconscious at the same time as you.’
‘Oh. That’s odd. Maybe I’ve developed a superpower that makes people touching me faint.’
‘Wren.’
‘What?’ he said, irritated. ‘I’ve no idea. I was unconscious at the time. Why don’t you ask him your questions?’
Greta glanced at the technician. ‘Dr Cheever will answer them in time.’
The technician looked terrified at the prospect.
Well, I did the best I could for you, thought Wren. They suspect, but they don’t know for sure. The rest depends on how good a liar you are.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ said Dr Cheever. ‘I really don’t. It must have been something he did.’
Wren laughed. Greta shifted her eyes to him, and he stopped laughing.
‘Well, not on purpose, I can assure you,’ he said.
Greta watched him. He made a show of coughing.
‘So the inducer didn’t work?’
‘It didn’t work. So sorry. Maybe next time.’
‘Yes. Because there will be a next time, Wren.’
He rolled his eyes, but his insides curled miserably, and his hatred snapped its jaws.
They made him lie back down as they buzzed some more, monitoring, checking, feeling, administering. Poking and prodding while he lay, passive. But now he had something to comfort him: the knowledge that for the first time since coming here, he had what he so desperately needed.
An advantage.
Sometimes he wished that the version of World he’d sold to Rue was the version he actually lived in. It had seemed so perfect, once. Once felt like a long time ago. Now he understood that ideals and realities never matched. Humans were flawed. No system worked. No culture had it right.
But it didn’t matter, because he had the
Castle, the centre of everything – the place that was all places and all times. No country on earth could ever come close to that. When he was there, he felt it plucking at every tiny piece of him, promising power. The kind of power that people like Greta couldn’t even begin to stand against.
With that power, no one would ever be able to tell him what to do, ever again. With that power maybe he could even remake the world, change things for the better. Politicians wouldn’t do it. The Talented couldn’t be trusted to do it – White had proved that. He was on his own.
That was fine. He’d always been on his own.
If he could open it, he knew that everywhere would become the Castle. It would be like living permanently in a dream, barriers down, the laws of reality as substantial as smoke. It would be incredible. Better than Life, which only gave you the scope of human imagination.
The Castle was something else.
He would stop all the pain, and the misery, and the banality of human existence. Nothing would ever be dull again. No one would worry about money, or disease, or poverty. Those things seemed so far away in the Castle.
Now that he had the drug to get him there, he would find a way to open it and share it with the world.
It would be the best gift he could ever give.
CHAPTER 10
WORLD
RUE
So it turned out that Wren was a bit of an ass.
One minute he was grinning at her and calling her sweet little names. The next minute he was losing his temper with her and stalking out of the house for hours at a time. Rue didn’t understand how to deal with him, or what she was supposed to do. So she lost her temper too, and they fell out often over stupid things. She wanted him to trust her, to open up to her. Just once or twice she’d caught sight of a vulnerability in him, an edge that made her wonder what he could be like if he would only stop isolating himself from everything as if he were better than it all. He had heart and passion. That had drawn her to him, in the beginning. Now it just made her want to scratch at him until he bled his secrets – but he was having none of it.
At least there was Cho. Spiky, fiery Cho, her face flushed with delight as they sat in her room and she showed Rue the code she’d created, the games and worlds she’d helped make. She was a Life coder, a creator of alternate realities – a power at least as impressive as being Talented, to Rue. When she’d told Cho that, the girl had seemed embarrassed and delighted at the description.
They had grown close fast. Cho’s edges were sharp and she was all off balance. She fascinated Rue because of it. But the closer they became, the more Rue worried about her. Because Cho had a dark side, too, alternating swiftly between cagey and far too intimate, telling Rue things about her hacker friends, the strange and addictive lifestyle of it. It was obvious that it was the danger that attracted her. She said she needed it to feel alive. To give her existence shape and meaning.
That sort of thing could really get you into trouble.
So it was Cho who occupied Rue’s days – but her nights had slowly, inexorably been given over to White.
Rue had seen him again last night.
She knew what she was doing – conjuring him up in her mind as a substitute for being with the real him. They had been in a dim room, similar to the party room she’d been in when she’d first dreamed of him. Or maybe it was the same room – it was too dark to tell. She was perched on a little couch.
He emerged from nothing, a thick and solid shadow. She watched him come to her.
The air was still and the light dark. Comforting.
He stood in front of her, silent.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hi,’ he replied. It was strange to hear such a word, so casually spoken, come out of his mouth.
‘Do you want to sit?’
He was still for a moment, as if debating. Then he moved forward and sat himself next to her. They looked out together across the darkness, but there was nothing to see, save each other.
‘Tell me something,’ said Rue.
She felt White shift beside her, gently.
‘What is it you want to know?’
‘Something more of you. You told me of your childhood last time. But I want to know about something else.’
‘Why?’
‘To piece you together. I want to make you real.’
There was a silence. She watched him watch the dark.
‘Aren’t you afraid you won’t like what you find, in the end?’ he said. Listening to him speak in World was something else. His voice was no longer stiff and spiked and hesitant. Words rolled off his tongue like oil, his voice a piano being played.
‘I suppose that’s always the risk,’ said Rue.
‘So ask me a question.’
Rue thought. It had to be something of the utmost importance, something that would give her, in one answer, such an enormous key to solving him that she would understand him completely and all at once.
‘What’s your favourite food?’ she said.
White looked at her, and laughed. It was rich and lovely. She basked in its warmth.
‘Why are you laughing?’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s a serious question.’
‘There are a few. I couldn’t possibly pick a favourite.’
‘Name some.’
‘It’s too hard. I like extremes. Caramel cakes and saltfish pies.’
‘Me too. Another.’
‘An old URCI dish called char siu pork.’
‘I don’t know it, but you should introduce me to it sometime. Another?’
‘Potato Roise.’
‘That’s an Angle Tarain dish, from the country,’ she said, delighted. ‘You’re lying to please me.’
‘Not at all. It was the first proper meal I ate when I came to Angle Tar.’
‘Were you alone?’
‘I was with Frith.’
His face had fallen.
Rue looked down.
‘I suppose he must hate me,’ she said. ‘For leaving.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t.’ White sat forward, his arms locking, hands clasped together. Rue watched him for a while, but he wouldn’t look round at her.
‘I’ve always wondered why you danced with me at the midwinter ball back in Angle Tar,’ she said eventually. ‘Will you say?’
‘It wasn’t planned. I just needed to be near you.’
Rue felt a delightful shiver creep along her skin. ‘I wish you would have told me then.’
‘So do I.’
His hair was loose this time. Some of it was wrapped, twining around itself, and it draped like a rope over his shoulder.
‘I hope –’ he stopped. ‘I hope you’re happy, where you are. I hope you’re finding what you wanted to find.’
What she wanted to find. No. Not yet. She wanted truth, but all anybody gave her here were more secrets. She wanted to tell White that she often thought about what she’d given up. About how she belonged nowhere any more.
She couldn’t bring herself to say such things to him, though. She couldn’t bear to be so disappointing.
He was watching her. She felt it on her face, like sunlight. She wanted to turn into it, bask in it, but it was too hot and bright. He was too much for her, but she chased that feeling. Half of her hoped that it would never feel normal between them. She didn’t want to lose the glamour of him. Better to never know him so well that he became just another person, with toes and bad judgement and maybe even stupid jokes that made her roll her eyes.
But the other half wondered what it would be like.
To be with him like that, all up close, fierce and stupid. The fantasy him was removed from her, keeping them both at arm’s length, which was nerve-wracking, exciting – but maybe, in the end, it wouldn’t be enough.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rue. She caught his surprised glance. ‘For the things I said to you before I left.’
‘You were right. I knew about the tunnels, and I know about many other things. I’ve done things that would
make you hate me.’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think I left because of the tunnels. I think I left because I can’t face anything real,’ said Rue, willing her voice to come out wobble-free. ‘When it gets real, I just run away. Like a coward.’
‘I know what you mean.’
Silence, then. It crowded in, thick and dark.
‘I waited,’ said White. ‘I know it’s stupid, but I’ve been waiting for you to come back. Just appear in my rooms. Or in my classroom. I wanted you to come back and be angry at me, if you wanted. You could shout. I would have taken it. I would have told you.’
He swallowed, and fell silent.
Rue watched him.
‘Told me what?’ she said.
But he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, say it.
‘Why did you never say those kinds of things to me back then?’ she said, curious.
‘I thought you’d find them repulsive.’ He took a breath. ‘I thought you found me repulsive.’
Rue laughed. ‘You’re very clever, but you don’t know girls very well,’ she said, amused.
He smiled. ‘You’re right. But now it’s your turn. It’s only fair.’
Rue slotted her legs underneath her. It felt good, this dream; it felt good that they were in the middle of it, and they had a while to go, maybe. But it would still be over too soon.
‘What’s my turn?’ she said.
‘You curl yourself up like a cat.’
‘It’s comfortable. What’s my turn?’
‘Well, I should know more about you this time.’
Rue grimaced.
‘None of that,’ said White. ‘You have a lot of me; I have nothing of you.’
‘Frith must have told you some things.’
White laughed in derision. ‘Frith told me only what I needed to know, and he didn’t think I needed to know much about my students in order to teach them.’
He looked at her properly now. He seemed urgent, his face sharp. It made her uneasy, and excited, and she tried to position her body casually, as if that would calm everything down.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’m from Kernow. Bretagnine, to posh people.’
