by Harrison, S.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Carlo replies, his voice slightly trembling.
“Whom have you told?”
I watch Carlo’s face from the corner of my eye. I can see him studying Jonah’s expression. Carlo looks at me, then back at Jonah, and makes a snap decision. He lies.
“Nobody, sir.”
Jonah stares him down, but Carlo doesn’t break. I don’t know why Carlo lied. Maybe he didn’t want to get into any more trouble with Jonah than he already was? Whatever the reason, Jonah seems satisfied. “Alright, then. Until we know more about why and how it works, it will be a secret between the three of us. Tell absolutely no one. Understand?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” we say in unison.
“Swear on it.”
“We swear,” we both say at the same time. Carlo even holds his right hand up in a three-fingered Boy Scouts’ salute.
“Right. Now, both of you, follow me.” Jonah turns and enters through the open front door. We quickly fall in step behind him as he leads us through the marble foyer, down the hallway beneath the main stairs, and toward the heavy oak and iron door that leads to the southern wing.
I have lived in this house my whole life and I have never been beyond this door. I have always known the southern wing to be by far the smallest and most boring of Blackstone Manor. It consists of nothing more than dusty storage rooms for old furniture and books. From the outside, by counting the chimneys, you can tell that there are four rooms: two on either side. You can see into the rooms through the little gaps in the curtains. I’m a curious kid so of course I looked, and, from what I saw, I was never really interested in going into any of them. All four rooms are connected by a central corridor. Two are not particularly large, and from what I could see, totally empty. No tables or chairs or even paintings on the walls. No rugs or anything. Just bare wooden floors, empty fireplaces, and dust.
One of the other two rooms on the opposite side is crammed wall to wall with folding chairs and wooden bench seats like the ones you would find in a church. There didn’t seem to be any spare floor space in it at all. The last room is filled with cardboard boxes, most of which have the word “books” scrawled on their sides in thick red marker. I always assumed they were the spare ones that wouldn’t fit on the shelves in the libraries.
Jonah takes a large key from his pocket, puts it in the lock of the ironclad door, and turns it to the right. The lock clicks loudly; he pushes the door open and flicks the light switch on the wall. Jonah stands to one side. “In you go, both of you,” he orders.
I look past the open door and see exactly what I expected to: a musty hallway with high ceilings and four closed doors, a faded carpet running down the length of it, ending at a wall with a window, its thick curtains drawn. This whole situation is horrible. What is he going to do to us? Lock us in the southern wing? No, of course not! Maybe he’s gonna make us clean the place. It could certainly use a good vacuuming.
Whatever he has in store for us is a total mystery. I look up at Jonah, hoping to see his serious face break into a smile, to laugh out loud and tell us that this is all a big joke. That he was just trying to scare us and that he hopes we learned our lesson, but his face is still stoic and stony and as deathly serious as before.
“I have to go help my father with the horses, Major Brogan,” Carlo whimpers in a final attempt to escape whatever punishment awaits us. I can hear the fear in his voice.
“In,” Jonah says, ignoring his plea. Carlo and I look at each other, and then slowly shuffle in past him. Jonah steps in, closes the heavy door behind him, and locks it. Then, with one last glare he flicks the light switch off, plunging the hallway into darkness. The only light is a razor-thin shaft peeking through the edge of the curtain at the end of the hall sixty feet away.
Now I’m afraid. In the dark I grab Carlo’s wrist and squeeze. The ridiculous notion that my father has ordered Jonah to kill us flits through my mind.
“Don’t move an inch, and don’t say a word,” orders Jonah. He really didn’t need to tell me that, considering that I’m already frozen to the spot and freaking out too much to say anything, anyway.
Jonah clears his throat. “Onix, verify voice command authority Jonah One.”
Out of nowhere, and yet everywhere, a calm, warm, male voice fills every corner of the dim hallway.
“Voice command authority Jonah One verified.”
A pale-blue light blinks on, emanating from the skirting boards of the hallway, illuminating the whole space. Carlo and I are both on nervous edge, scanning the hallway for the source of the voice, but there’s no one there but the three of us.
“Welcome back, Major Brogan. I see we have some visitors,” says the voice.
I tighten my grip on Carlo’s arm and look up at Jonah. He’s looking blankly into space as he speaks. “Yes, Onix. Carlo and Finn here will be joining me in sublevel one today. Say hello, you two.”
“Hello to who?” I inquire, looking around and up and down the corridor.
“Onix is the computer operating system that administrates sublevel one of Blackstone Manor.”
“Sublevel what?” I ask, louder than I should.
“Hello, Onix,” Carlo says with a look of wonder.
“Hello, Carlo.”
“Wow,” Carlo whispers with obvious awe. “I thought your house was cool before, Finn, but this is totally next level.”
“Hello . . . Onix?” I say to the ceiling.
“Hello, Finn. Welcome back.”
“What do you mean, ‘welcome back’?”
“We have met many times.”
“But I’ve never been in the southern wing before.”
“Yes, you have, Finn. You were . . .”
“That’s enough chitchat, Onix,” interrupts Jonah. “Open sublevel access please.” At Jonah’s instruction, there’s a computerized tone of acknowledgment, and the rug at the end of the hall rolls back all by itself. With a quiet whirring sound, an oblong pod made of glass and shiny silver metal rises from the floor. A sliding door on the front silently glides open.
“Go to the end of the hall, kids,” instructs Jonah.
“Sir, yes, sir,” spouts Carlo. Sensing adventure, and suddenly oblivious to the possibility of still being punished, Carlo breaks free from my grip and marches like a soldier down the hall toward the pod.
Carlo looks back over his shoulder at me with an expression of excited rapture.
“Jonah, please stop messing around. What’s going on? What’s sublevel one? What was Onix talking about? Meeting me before?” I ask again.
He looks down at me and finally cracks a tiny smile.
“Onix is mistaken; he’s just having a memory glitch, that’s all. As for everything else, it’ll all make sense in good time.”
Jonah puts his hands on my shoulders.
“I’m sorry if I scared you back there, but from now on things are going to be a little more serious, and I need you to take me seriously. You’re growing up fast, and there are many very important things I need to teach you if I’m going to send you out to school.” The last three words that came out of Jonah’s mouth wedge themselves in my mind, and my heart almost explodes. How did he know?
I spring toward him and clamp my arms around his waist. “Thank you, Jonah!”
Jonah takes my wrists and gently unwraps me. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ll have to earn it. From now on, from four to seven every day, you are Cadet Blackstone, and I am Major Brogan. Follow my instructions and pass my tests, and then maybe, when I think you’re ready, you can go to school. No promises, though—understand?”
I stand at attention and give my best attempt at a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Very good, Cadet. Now go and join Cadet Delgado and let’s get to work.”
“Jonah . . . I mean Major Brogan, sir? Why is Carlo here, too?”
“You
like him and trust him, don’t you?”
I’m suddenly grateful for the blue light in the hall hiding the red of the blush I feel on my face. I nod.
“Well then, I trust him, too. Carlo will learn what you will learn, and together you will go further faster. You can talk to each other about what you’ve learned and practice your combat training together. After I teach you how to do it responsibly, of course. No more hitting anyone with sticks and stones, and no more broken bones, if I can help it.”
“Combat training?” I say, wide-eyed.
“Yes, Finn. The world can be a dangerous place, and I want to know that you can defend yourself if you have to. I will teach you discipline, how to control your emotions, and how to maximize your physical skills responsibly. Discipline, control, and responsibility. These are the things you will learn. And if I’m going to teach you all of that, then, to begin with, you’ll need a sparring partner that’s not six foot seven inches tall, like me. Now move it, Cadet; you’ve both got a lot of work to do.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” I shout and run down the hall where Carlo is already happily standing in the silver pod. Jonah follows close behind and joins us inside. The door slides shut.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and we nod in unison. “Alright, then. Onix. Take us down.”
The glass on the pod lets us see in all directions. I take another look at the hallway that only a few short minutes ago I thought was the most boring place in the world. I turn and look at Carlo, the boy that, until this afternoon by the pond, was just my summertime playmate who cleaned the stables and fed the horses. I look up at Jonah, who I now call Major Brogan, and who now calls me Cadet. It’s funny how everything can change in an instant. The pod slowly begins to descend; the floor of the hallway looks as though it’s rising to meet us instead of us being the ones sinking into it. Soon, all I can see of the corridor is a blue circle of light through the ceiling of the pod. Suddenly, the whole thing drops and my stomach floats as if it’s weightless. I let out a little yelp and my hand instinctively shoots out to find Carlo’s. He smiles and grips my fingers tightly as the pod takes us deeper.
I look into his eyes through the dim blue light and whisper, “Don’t you dare let go.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I open my eyes, squinting at the harsh glare of bright-white surfaces. Someone is squeezing my hand. Even though their face is blurry, I know it’s not Carlo. Big, brown, sympathetic doe eyes come into focus. They’re framed by thick black glasses perched on a pretty freckled face with a mane of frizzy brown hair.
“Bit?”
“Hi, Finn. Everything’s OK. You’re in the nurse’s office. Well, kinda . . .”
I pull my hand back, sit up on my elbows, and try to remember what happened. I peer around the room. It’s small with a gray linoleum floor and stark white walls. The bright light seems to be coming directly from them. One of the walls has a doctor’s eye chart printed on it. There are cupboards above a small metal basin, one chair for Bit, a bed for me, and a small desk and chair in the corner.
“What’s going on?” I murmur.
“You fainted,” replies Bit.
“My arm . . . did I break my arm?” I say, stroking the skin below my wrist.
Bit frowns and smirks. “Nnnooo. But you might have hit your head if you think that you did.”
It takes a moment for the fog to clear, and everything gradually begins to sink in. I remember clearly the day Carlo and I met Onix. It was the day of my first kiss, so it’s not easy to forget, but I don’t remember breaking my arm that day. Or any bones, ever, for that matter, let alone intentionally, over and over again for years on end like a crazy person. Everything I saw was exactly the way I remember it happening—except for that. Why has my imagination suddenly decided to warp my memories so drastically? Willing my bones to heal? It’s ridiculous, not to mention impossible.
I stare at Bit for a second, most likely looking as confused as I feel. She smiles at me warmly. All of a sudden, my stomach lurches as my mother’s face flashes into my mind with an electric jolt.
Did I imagine it?!
No.
It was as if my mother had stepped right out of her photograph, her features unchanged by time. But how?
“The woman in the silver suit.” I ask croakily, “Where is she?”
“It was insane, Finn; you should have seen it!” Bit says excitedly. “Ryan caught you when you fainted and the silver woman activated this room. It literally grew up out of the ground. First the bed appeared and everyone totally freaked out. Ryan lifted you onto it, and then the walls and everything came up out of the ground around us. It was so cool. The tech here is wicked serious, Finn. I’ve never even heard of stuff anything like this existing. Your dad is beyond brilliant.”
“Where did the woman in silver go, Bit?”
“Oh yeah, sorry. She rushed back into the jungle, and just after that the tour guide turned up and called for the nurse. The nurse is out there now, talking to Professor Francis.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. Bit springs from her chair with her arms outstretched.
“I’m fine,” I grumble and head for the door. At least I would if there was a door. I look all around the room. Apart from the eye chart, the walls are blank.
“It’s over there, in the corner,” says Bit, pointing at a bare white section. I crane my head forward, squinting, scanning for a handle or a hinge or a button when a door-sized hole suddenly slides open with a hiss and a young blonde woman walks in. She’s dressed in a white coverall uniform with white shoes and bright-blue gloves, a bold red cross emblazoned on her chest.
“You’re conscious. Good. I’m Nurse Talbot. How do you feel?”
“Um . . . OK, I guess.”
“That’s good. Would you excuse us for a moment, please?” the nurse says to Bit. “Just going to give your friend here a final check-over.”
“Oh, of course.” Giving me a little worried smile over her shoulder, Bit slinks out the door; it seals shut behind her with a quiet hiss.
“Finn Brogan, is it?” asks Nurse Talbot.
“Ah, yes.”
“Sit down, please,” the nurse instructs, lightly shoving me onto the edge of the bed.
“Hey,” I protest.
She clicks on a penlight and shines it in my eyes. “Keep still, please.” She waves it from one eye to the other, and then clicks it off. “Any dizziness? Nausea?”
“Nope.”
“Alright, then. I’ll just log this session, Miss Brogan, and then you can go and rejoin your friends.”
Nurse Talbot goes to the wall. “Computer. Chart.” There’s a single beep of acknowledgment and a screen blinks onto the blank wall. She begins tapping away on it with her finger.
“Ah, excuse me, nurse?”
“Yes, what is it?”
“The woman who met us when we arrived. Can I ask who she is?”
The nurse keeps tapping at the screen. “Woman?”
“She was dressed all in silver.”
“Oh. She was not a ‘she’ at all. ‘She,’ as you call her, was a Drone Template. A worker robot. Around here we call them DTs.”
“But . . . I’ve seen robots before,” I say with a frown. “They cut the grass at school. They’re clunky plastic and metal. They look like robots. But the way that woman moved and spoke, she . . . she looked real. Human. And her face, it was exactly like my . . . my mother’s.”
Nurse Talbot stops tapping and looks over at me. “Your mother?”
“My dead mother,” I reply flatly.
“Oh, I see. The surprise of seeing your deceased mother’s face shocked you into fainting. That explains everything.”
I’m a little taken aback by her cold analysis. “But how?”
“Well, I don’t know the exact technical workings; I’m not an engineer.” She
swipes her finger across the screen and it vanishes. “But I do know that on the very rare occasion when Drones are required to speak with visitors, their protective faceplate changes shape to make interactions more . . . personable. I’m not even sure what a DT was doing there. I’ve never heard of one being instructed to greet guests before. Anyway, apparently you thought it resembled your deceased mother. Quite an unfortunate coincidence, I must say.”
“Ya think?” I grunt, shuffling off the bed. “Y’know, you really need to work on your bedside manner.”
Judging by her blank expression, my not-so-subtle insult seems to go right over Nurse Talbot’s head. Either that or she simply ignored it.
“How do I get out of here?”
Nurse Talbot points at a spot on the floor. “Please stand in the center of the room.”
I take a couple of steps forward.
“Computer. Infirmary construct alpha dissolve,” she says into midair.
There is a single beep and then a quiet hissing sound. A hole suddenly grows open in the ceiling and I can see blue sky peeking through treetops. The hole expands to the top edges of the walls and they slide down into the floor, revealing the dense jungle surrounding us. The desk, chairs, basin, and bed all sink into the ground, as well, followed by the gray linoleum floor, which disappears into the soil like oil soaking into a sponge. After a few seconds, it’s like there was never even a room here at all. Just dirt and twigs. Sitting on a stone bench on the edge of the clearing that used to be the infirmary are Bit, and, surprisingly, Ryan Forrester.
“You can all take the path back to your classmates,” says Nurse Talbot.
I’m about to ask what path she’s talking about when she announces, “Computer, open pathway to center.” The jungle undergrowth parts all by itself and a shiny white tile pushes up through the ground beside the stone bench. It’s joined by another and another, building itself tile by tile into a path that soon snakes off into the distance along the forest floor, disappearing around a corner into the tangled foliage.
“Enjoy your visit,” Nurse Talbot says blankly. She turns and looks down toward a bare patch of soil. “Computer. Stairwell.”
