Elusion

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  I rub the back of my neck, willing myself to think of something else, but it’s really hard to do with all these Equips around me, triggering memory after memory of the way things used to be. I know my father would have been so happy, seeing how much people are enjoying Elusion. And if he were here, he’d probably ask me why I’m not one of those people.

  Elusion could help me feel better—make me forget how difficult it is, living each day without him—even if only for a short while. But the last time I Escaped and came back to reality, the pain of losing him was a thousand times worse.

  A few moments later, the robotic voice of the Traxx crackles through the speakers once again, announcing our arrival in the Inner Sector. All around me, Elusion wristband alarms begin to sound, lulling everyone out of their Escapes. The twins sitting across from me move in slow motion, taking off their visors first and then pulling the buds out of their ears. Their eyes flutter open and they stare into space, the muscles in their faces quivering. My stocky neighbor lets out a deep moan as he disconnects from his Equip and then sits there, almost like he’s catatonic.

  Some people think Aftershock symptoms are a small price to pay for time in Elusion, but I don’t miss the side effects one bit.

  The station we’re pulling into isn’t far from the Orexis building. Even though I’m running late, I think I can make it there on time if I use the pedestrian bridges and take a couple of illegal shortcuts. I grab my bag and rush to the cabin door, getting in line to exit before everyone else in the car. Once the door opens, I leap off the train and push my way through the mob descending down one of the fifty jumbo-size escalators that weave together in what looks like a gigantic aerial spiderweb.

  I race out of the station, glancing toward the giant billboard that projects the latest air quality report. It’s a negative ten, which means this area is a currently a red zone, so O2 shields are highly recommended. Although it’s going to cost me time, I break from the surge of people who are streaming out into the streets and duck behind a towering copper pylon to pull out the pear-shaped plastic mask and place it over my mouth and nose. Once it’s correctly positioned, I press the silver button on the right side, activating the suction that will keep the shield fastened to my face and emit the steady stream of oxygen that I’ll breathe until I go indoors.

  And then comes the acid rain. Just a couple of drops at first, but by the time I navigate my way through the hundreds of cars and buses crippled by traffic and reach the base of the first pedestrian bridge, it’s coming down in sheets of gray. I dig inside my bag again and find my umbrella, but when I try to open it, the top spring jams, preventing the special oil-proof vinyl material from staying up.

  For a split second, I consider turning back. Maybe this is a sign that I’m supposed to skip Patrick’s press conference. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me that going to Orexis is a bad idea—I won’t be able to escape the memory of my dad there.

  But then I think about the train a few minutes ago and how Elusion was everywhere. After today, there’ll be no place for me to hide.

  At least not in the real world.

  So I throw my umbrella into the trash and take the first step up the bridge.

  “I don’t see you on the admittance log,” the stocky, surly-looking Orexis guard says, his eyes glued to the view screen in between us. He touches my passcard to the code reader on his glass desk once more, scanning it again.

  Orexis headquarters is located in the refurbished Renaissance Center, or the RenCen, as it’s been referred to ever since it was built. A titanium building complex on the shores of the Detroit River, overlooking Canada, it has a 200-story hotel, a mall and a variety of office buildings. It’s practically a city within a city—or a “brilliant micrometropolis,” as the Detroit Daily News labeled it. The lobby is packed with people eager to witness Patrick’s big announcement. It took me nearly a half hour just to reach the ID checkpoint at the elevator bank. If I don’t hurry, I’m going to miss the start of the press conference. Even though my demerit count is dangerously high, I still skipped my last class at school in order to be here, so I definitely want to make the most of my AWOL time.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not on the list of media that has been cleared to attend the event,” he announces loudly, his eyes focused on the information from my passcard that has popped up on his glass desk.

  “I’m not with any media,” I say. The stocky guard has my passcard, and clearly my name isn’t ringing any bells, so I lean over the desk and whisper, “My dad is . . . was David Welch.”

  God, I really don’t want to make a scene—being here is uncomfortable enough, knowing my father is never going to walk through this lobby again. “Patrick Simmons invited me himself.”

  “Ms. Welch!” A tall guard with a shiny head devoid of any hair whatsoever comes hurrying over as soon as he recognizes me, his voice high-pitched and eager. “Do you want to use the private elevator, or—”

  People are beginning to stare. So far no one else has placed me, but if I went up in the VIP elevator, I would kiss my anonymity good-bye. My father’s HyperSoar accident was headline news, and I don’t want reporters hounding me like they did a day or two after the funeral. Some of them even camped outside my house.

  Bastards.

  “If you could just swipe me in, that would be great,” I say quickly.

  The tall guard yanks my passcard away from his coworker and scans it, handing it back to me. I give him a grateful nod of thanks and then hurry through the gate, scooting inside a crowded elevator. I’m pressed up against one of the rectangular mirror-paneled walls. My eyes shift down toward my feet, but not fast enough. I catch my reflection, and to put it mildly, I look disgusting.

  Due to the rain, my strawberry-blond hair has a strange dullness to it, and my bangs are in desperate need of a flatiron. My mascara is caked around my lashes, making my green eyes appear washed out and almost translucent. My skin has gone from naturally porcelain to a pale shade of gray. My uniform—an ugly navy cargo skirt with an ivory button-down shirt—is wet and clinging to me in all the wrong places, streaked with sootlike residue from the tainted precipitation. I run my fingers through my hair in a vain attempt to freshen up, but it doesn’t help much.

  Only a full-blast decontamination shower could help me now.

  When the elevator doors open, I step off to the side, letting everyone move ahead of me. There’s a crowd hovering near the theater entrance, probably because it’s already full. My best bet is to sneak in through the back. I walk through an unmarked automatic door a few feet to my left and enter a gigantic hallway.

  The soaring ceilings are glittering with shining lights and the glass walls are projecting glowing, larger-than-life testimonials regarding Elusion: a paraplegic who became an expert skier in a mountain Escape, a single mom of six who takes a relaxing “vacation” to a beach Escape every day on her way home from work, and a doctor who claims that using Elusion regularly can significantly relieve tension.

  I stop at another unmarked door and wait for it to slide open.

  I step inside the auditorium, my back now up against the wall. The two-thousand-seat auditorium is packed, including the enclosed observation deck at the top of the cavernous room. Even though the paneling is slightly tinted, hiding the faces of the people inside, I spot the silhouette of Patrick’s mother, Cathryn. She has a distinctive figure that is hard to miss—poufy bobbed hair, wide-set shoulders, and a tall frame. Patrick’s mom always makes him a bit nervous, so it’s a good thing she isn’t sitting in the first row.

  The lights dim and Patrick takes the stage, appearing more confident and proud than I have ever seen him. He is also being projected on a gargantuan screen, so it’s easy to see that his Italian suit is a little big on him. His mom is probably pursing her lips in disapproval, but I kind of like that he hasn’t fully bought into the whole young-businessman thing. Patrick’s also wearing a tie that my father gave him the day he began working at Orexis full-time. I ca
n’t help but smile at his sentimentality. Like me, he holds on to the things that matter the most.

  The crowd bursts into feverish applause. The two brunettes standing beside me start snapping pictures of him and gasping as if he were some Hollywood heartthrob. Patrick grins and his chin dimples. I can tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he doesn’t mind the attention one bit. I can also tell that he won’t be flubbing any of his lines tonight.

  Suddenly, something inside me begins to hurt.

  No matter how much I want to believe it, the demanding schedule Patrick has been keeping lately is clearly not just a busy phase. Then again, Patrick has been pretty much fully booked as long as I’ve known him. His standardized test scores were off the charts, starting from kindergarten, so even though he’s just two years older than me, he graduated from high school when he was fifteen—as valedictorian. When he wasn’t studying, he was doing some kind of extracurricular activity during his free time. I often wonder how he managed to make room for me, but he always did.

  I take a deep breath once all the clapping dies down, moving away from the back wall of the auditorium and hoping that Patrick will somehow be able to see that I’m here to cheer him on. To hell with how I look. Patrick’s my best friend. He’s not going to care about what I’m wearing or that I’m having the worst hair day in the history of my life.

  “First off, thank you all for coming today, and on such short notice.” Patrick glances down at the teleprompter, hesitating for a moment before looking up and flashing the audience a gleaming smile.

  “As you all know, for the last six months Elusion has been available on a trial basis in only three cities: Los Angeles, Miami, and Detroit.”

  At the mention of Detroit, the room bursts into a small round of applause.

  I hold my fingers to my lips, whistling like my father taught me to on a summer road trip to Montreal. I see a sliver of a clearing in the center aisle and make my way toward it. Patrick stops in the middle of his speech as if he heard my little birdcall. As he canvasses the dark auditorium with his blue eyes, I begin to push through the crowd a bit harder.

  “Shane, can you bring up the house lights, please?” Patrick asks.

  And just like that, the auditorium is bathed in brightness. When I look toward the stage, Patrick is staring right at me, the corners of his lips curving up.

  “There,” he says. “Now I can see you all much better.”

  I grin back at him and mouth the words “good luck.”

  Patrick nods and picks up where he left off in his speech. “For the past hour, Orexis has been flooded with calls, spawned by the rumors that Elusion is about to be released nationwide. Well, I don’t know where your sources are getting their information, but they are one hundred percent . . . correct! Elusion finally received the coveted safety seal from the Center for Interface Technologies, and by the end of next week, both Equips and apps will be available for purchase in ten more cities. By the end of the month, people all across the country will have access to the most exciting technological advancement of the century!”

  The auditorium once again erupts in thunderous applause.

  A woman holding a large box of sparkly acrylic wristbands walks in front of me. She presses one into my hand and then points to the left.

  “Miss, you’re going to need to sit down for the demonstration. There’s an empty seat in row L.”

  “Wait, what kind of demonstration?” I whisper. “Are we all going to Elusion together?”

  I’m not ready to go back there. Not even close.

  The woman shakes her head. “No, of course not. It’s just an immersive video accompanied by some music and acupressure hypnosis. Will you take a seat, please?”

  I blow out a nervous breath as I walk up the aisle and spot the empty seat on the left. It’s practically in the middle of the row, which means I have to crawl over dozens of people to get to it.

  “The Elusion app that will be released is a newer, updated version of the program that has been on the test market,” Patrick continues. “Our team has worked very hard to give you the most dynamic, original Escapes we could think of, and we’d like to give you a taste of the Elusion Universe today.”

  With my bag slung over my shoulder, I hunch down and try to get to my seat discreetly, apologizing for brushing against people’s legs and temporarily blocking their view.

  “Please put on your wristband,” Patrick instructs us. “There is no need for earbuds or a visor. Sound will be provided through the speakers. Just bear with us for a minute while we set everything up.”

  A murmur floats through the crowd as the house lights slowly dim again.

  I flop down in the seat, my bag firmly in my lap. I gather my hair and put it in a messy bun as Patrick’s larger-than-life presence appears on the screen. The moment I slip on my wristband, earsplitting guitar chords come barreling through the speakers. As the music crescendos, a milky haze forms on the screen. When it fades into a sheet of pitch black, a million dots of white appear and glow with fierce intensity. I duck for cover when a streak of flames bursts from not only the screen but the walls around me. Balls of fire ricochet across the room, exploding in midair.

  My heart is in my throat. It’s as if the auditorium itself is careening through the galaxy, narrowly avoiding collisions with gigantic asteroids, orbiting planets, and crescent moons at every turn.

  I wince as a round ball of fire heads straight toward me, veering off to the right at the last second. This isn’t real, I remind myself. But it sure as hell feels real. There is no pretty fairy dust here, and this is not the serene Elusion that my father introduced me to—this is something more terrifying and exciting and bewildering and enticing. Then I feel a shred of something I’ve felt many times before but have forgotten these past few months. A tiny surge of electricity rises in my chest, and within seconds it spreads all the way through my arms and down to my fingertips.

  This ghost of a feeling is enough to take me back to when my father first brought me to Elusion, but then a shimmering, warm glow fans out in front of my eyes, distracting me from my thoughts completely. The hard-rock music disappears, and soon a soft murmur of a sound—almost like the white noise one might hear on an antique radio—radiates through the air. A large constellation comes into view, twinkling in a soothing, rhythmic pattern that loosens all the tension in my neck and shoulders. In fact, I feel every muscle in my body unwind.

  One of the stars lights up brighter than the rest, hues of neon yellow and shades of orange and magenta flashing in the most radiant spectacle I have ever seen. I can feel the power pulsating at the core of the star. I inhale deeply as I stare at the unreal beauty of the universe around me.

  For the first time in what seems like forever, I think . . .

  Everything is going to be okay.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  TWO

  WHEN THE SCREEN GOES BLACK A FEW minutes later and the only sound I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears, I sit back in my seat, staring straight ahead but seeing everything as a faint blur. I shake my hands out and roll my shoulders forward, trying to snap myself back to normal.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” Patrick says to the crowd. “It might take a minute to regain your equilibrium. It’s to be expected.”

  My gaze shifts around the room. Other people seem to be rubbing their eyes, blinking as they fight to readjust to the real world once more. I join in the pockets of applause that are emanating from different corners of the auditorium.

  “What you just experienced was a sneak peek at another new feature of Elusion,” he continues. “It’s called the Exhilaration Setting, or ExSet for short. Now users can control the amount of brain stimulation they experience inside Elusion, and the intensity of their destination will change accordingly. CIT was truly amazed by this.”

  So am I. At least, I think I
am. The thoughts in my mind and my eyesight are still a little bit fuzzy. I squint to see if that helps anything, and luckily it does.

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’d like to open up the floor to questions,” Patrick says as a podium made of translucent material rises from a secret door in the floor of the stage.

  “Mr. Simmons, will this universe-themed Escape be a standard dimension along with the World?” a bespectacled reporter says into the ladybug-size Orexis-issued microphone that’s attached to his jacket.

  “Yes, it will, and I really hope that users enjoy traveling into these uncharted destinations together,” Patrick replies. Then he points over my shoulder. “You in the gray blazer.”

  “Is it true that Elusion will be released with higher trypnosis settings that will allow you to stay in your Escape longer and with less Aftershock?” a tall man with a neatly trimmed beard inquires.

  Patrick shrugs. “Not exactly. Instead of the five minutes in the prototype, Aftershock will only last a minute, but the amount of time allowed in an Escape has not changed. It’s still an hour.”

  Wow. The symptoms of Aftershock now only last a minute? My dad would be really impressed. He hated that users had to suffer through Aftershock and struggled to figure out a way make the symptoms less severe.

  Patrick gestures to a woman in a red suit toward the rear of the room. “Ma’am?”

  “Mr. Simmons, my followers are in Ohio, where Elusion hasn’t been available. Could you please explain the technology used in the Equip and the app? It’s still foreign territory for a lot of us.”

  “Absolutely. To put it simply, the Equip and the Elusion app work together. Kind of like an EEG machine, but operating in reverse.”

  A hint of a grin forms on my face. This is the exact analogy my dad used when trying to show me why the project he was slaving over was so groundbreaking.

  “Instead of measuring all the rhythmic changes and patterns that occur in our brain waves, the computer hardware in the Equip components redirects them through the use of trypnosis, so that we experience a deep level of consciousness called trance. The software in the app acts like a remote control, giving us plenty of channels or settings we can visit while we are in a trance state.”