In My Head

by Alicia Rades

  Copyright © 2015 Alicia Rades

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission from the author except in brief quotations used in articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Produced in the United States of America.

  ISBN: 9781516397785

  To my husband Paul, who always listens to my stories.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  1

  I regain consciousness just in time to panic. I can’t see anything, and suddenly every nerve in my body goes into overdrive. My body shakes as I reach out for my father.

  “Dad!” I cry. I know he’s there somewhere. My arms flail as I try to find something to ground me to reality.

  A moment later, I feel hands clamp around my wrists. “It’s okay,” I hear my father’s voice say.

  “Dad!” I say breathlessly. I blink a few times until the room comes back into focus. The glowing computers outline my father’s silhouette.

  “Mila,” my father says as he pulls me close to his belly. He seems so tall because he’s standing and I’m still half sitting, half lying on the table. “Mila, you’re fine. What’s all the fuss about? You’ve done this a million times.”

  He’s right. I should be fine. This is the twelfth upgrade I’ve had in the past ten years. Never before had I woken with such an odd sensation. What if this time is different?

  I calm my breathing as I press my head against my father’s body for comfort. I bite back tears that threaten in response to the terror I just felt but can’t explain. I don’t cry. Dad runs his hands through my dark hair as he assures me I’m going to be okay.

  “Her heart rate spiked there for a little bit, but she looks fine now,” J.P. says from across the room. He’s Dad’s intern. Well, kind of. J.P. goes to school with me but is two years older. He’s enrolled in an apprenticeship program where he learns about Mahone Inc.’s system while he’s still in school. It’s supposed to cut down on his time in college.

  Of course, the heart rate monitor is only a precaution. No one ever really needs it. Since I was six, I never needed it. Until now.

  “Are you okay, Mila?” Dad asks as he pulls away from me and looks into my face to assess my reaction.

  I press a hand to my head. “Yeah,” I answer. “I feel fine. I don’t know what all that was about. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Mila,” my father insists. “If something is wrong with this version of the program, we have to know before we release it to the public.”

  Part of me feels proud that Dad is the chief technology manager at Mahone Inc. It means that I get to beta test the latest upgrades to the chip in my head. This time, it’s a full-fledged hardware replace instead of just a software update. It’s not like that have to cut into me, though. The chip is actually partially outside the body. I’m not entirely sure how it works, but I know that if you look at the base of someone’s neck, you can see their implant.

  Of course, everyone I know has one, but Dad says there are still people outside the city who just don’t have the money or don’t want one, although I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t want one. I guess they’re afraid of a government conspiracy or something, like the implant can read your thoughts, but it doesn’t read all your thoughts, just the commands you give your devices. And besides, Dad says there’s no way to store the commands we give, so it’s not like anyone can be monitoring our brains and using it against us.

  Plus, the implants have such a short range. Like, if I want to tell the thermostat at home to turn up the heat, I have to communicate with my watch first to get the signal to reach that far. Still, I’m really looking forward to everything I’ll be able to do with this upgrade.

  At the same time, I resent it. In the beginning, it only alienated me from my classmates. Since my dad works with Mahone and we have the money, I was the first of my classmates to get the implant, the one that would connect me to The Internet of Things. My classmates were all jealous of how I could communicate with my home and my devices without lifting a finger, so they decided to shut me out. J.P. is the only person I can be seen with because we’re in the same boat. His dad works for Mahone, too. But I wouldn’t exactly call J.P. and I friends. Besides our dads’ professions, we have nothing in common.

  But, of course, I can’t tell my dad any of this. Letting him know how much I hate his job because it means I don’t have any friends would only break his heart. And I know getting the latest upgrade isn’t going to make people hate me any more than they already do. So I don’t let it show. And besides, I do feel fine. It must have just been nerves because of the full hardware upgrade.

  I force a smile. “Really, Dad. I am fine. I can’t wait to get home and see how this version feels.”

  Dad smiles back, and I can see J.P. out of the corner of my eye forcing a smile of his own. J.P. seems unsure about my words, but my dad looks like he believes me, and that’s all that matters right now.

  “Okay.” Dad gives me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you, Mila.”

  “Love you, too, Dad.”

  I jump down from the table, grab my bag, and sling it over my shoulder. “Bye,” I wave to the other people in the room before I leave.

  I ride the elevator down to the first floor and walk across the street near the Fountain. The Fountain is this big courtyard area in the middle of the city where tons of people hang out. There are mostly big corporation buildings surrounding it, but there are cafes and shops in their lower levels, so groups of people are always sitting along the edge of the actual fountain.

  I spot a few people from school hanging out nearby. Blonde hair and an attractive smile from the cutest guy in the group sends my heart fluttering. That’s Carter. I don’t think he sees me, but I lean down to unlock my bike and let my hair conceal my face anyway so that I don’t have to meet my classmates’ eyes.

  I could use my car if I wanted to—the one Dad bought me a few years ago—but I prefer my bike. It’s the best way for me to get my exercise in. Dad used to tell me that years ago, people would have to operate their cars manually kind of like how I operate my bike, but now they’re self-driving. Dad even told me that people once needed to go through classes and get licenses to drive cars. That seems kind of silly to me.

  Dad tells me a lot of stories about the olden days, how things were when he was young. When I was little, he used to tell me about the crazy amount of energy people would use and that it was actually warming up the world. Global warming, they called it. Crazy, isn’t it?

  But it’s not like that anymore. I guess somewhere along the way, people realized things needed to change. And it’s ironic. Even though our implants have helped get rid of the mundane things about life, people have become more active and involved in things. Like, we have full capabilities to have everyone go to school online, but no one wants to be completely secluded or study alone, so we don’t really do that anymore. And even though we have cars to take us places, most people like me ride on their bikes when it’s not too far because it saves us energy.

  Anyway, I don’t mean to rant, but Dad’s stories
have always fascinated me.

  I pedal at a moderate pace back home. It isn’t too far—just a few miles. Despite my anxiety from earlier, I’m anxious to use the new tech Dad is beta testing on me, so on the way home, I try out a few tricks on my watch. Without saying a word, I bring up the GPS app and have it guide me home. I notice almost immediately how much smoother communication seems and how quick the response time is.

  Of course, I don’t need the GPS app because I know my way home. I look out across the landscape. The tall buildings of the city are already behind me, and I can see the wind turbines rotating in the distance. Glimmers of light shine off the solar panels of the one and two story houses.

  I decide to test out a different app on my watch, telling it launch my music. Suddenly, something hard hit my head, so hard that I fall off my bike and it skids across the sidewalk. I throw my hands beneath me, but they do little to catch my fall. I skin my elbow. It stings, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed easily.

  The pounding in my head doesn’t stop. I squeeze my eyes shut tight to ease the thumping, but that doesn’t seem to work.

  Quiet, I think.

  Just like that, the pounding in my head transforms into a low melodic tune.

  Oh. After a second, I realize what’s happening. Of course. My father briefed me about this aspect before I went in for the upgrade. Why didn’t I listen closer? He had said that instead of audio playing through my watch speakers, it would come through the implant and play as if it was in my head. Genius, really, but I could have used a little more of a forewarning, like, “Mila, if it feel like your head is being cracked open, don’t worry. That’s just music.”

  I roll my eyes at the thought then laugh a little at myself for being so afraid of the music. I climb back on my bike and let the music get louder in my head. As I pedal back home, I decide the music is really pretty cool. It’s definitely something I’m going to take notes on for the beta test.

  2

  As I near home, I start testing my new tech right away. Dad said this one would have a farther range, so I give a few commands as I get closer to the front gate around our property. The gate springs open much sooner than I anticipated, and I smile at how cool that is. I test the same thing on our front door and get the same result.

  “How’d it go?” my mom asks when I walk in the door. She’s already waiting for me in the foyer, and she’s holding out a tray of cookies.

  “It went . . . fine,” I tell her as I grab a cookie from her tray. They’re warm and delicious.

  I try to imagine my mom with flour on her face and dough on her hands the way people used to cook in the olden days. Dad tells me about that all the time. But I’ve never even seen flour, so I don’t really know how to picture it. Dad says people used to “bake from scratch.” Now all the food delivered to our door is prepackaged and everything. We could order cookies that are already cooked, but Mom likes to bake, so she only orders the frozen dough. I think Mom would be a great cook given the right ingredients, but I honestly can’t even see her spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread. That’s what they used to do back in the olden days. It sounds like a tasty treat to me.

  “That’s good to hear,” my mom says.

  We both head toward the kitchen together, me in the lead. She walks a bit slower than I do because of her minor limp, which is the result of a broken leg. I was young at the time but still remember the day vividly. It was the day after I got my first implant, and she was playing with me in the living room when the phone rang. She went upstairs to talk in private and came running back a few minutes later, only to trip on the top step and break her leg on the way down. I don’t like to talk about it much because it was pretty traumatic for me since I was young, alone with her, and completely clueless on how to help.

  My mother’s voice pulls me from the memory. “I mean, I didn’t expect anything to go wrong. It never does. But I just want to make sure it went alright.” My mom already received her beta upgrade. I wonder briefly if she experienced something odd, too, but I know she would have said something if she did.

  “Yeah, Mom. Things went fine like always.”

  “Mila!” my mom exclaims in alarm.

  I whirl around to face her. “What?”

  “What happened to your arms?” She points to my elbows.

  “Oh,” I say, cradling the scrape on my right elbow. “I fell off my bike. The music app scared me,” I admit shyly.

  My mom laughs out loud. “It scared me the first time, too.”

  It’s Saturday, so I don’t have school. I quickly scan the screen on the door of the refrigerator with my eyes to see what we have. There’s one column that shows what we have in the fridge and another that lists what we’re out of and is coming in our grocery shipment on Sunday. Dad used to tell me about how people actually had to go to the grocery store and shop for themselves. Can you believe it? Now our refrigerator analyzes what we have and creates an automatic order that’s shipped to our front door each week. Of course, the refrigerator only orders our regular items, but we can add extra things to the order ourselves, like if we were hosting a party—if we ever actually had parties.

  I quickly try the refrigerator function out. We don’t normally have orange juice, so I mentally tell the fridge to add it to the list. It does. Then I reach into the fridge and grab one of my lunches. I stick it in the oven and mentally set the temperature and time. We’re not at a point yet where the fridge delivers our food straight to the oven or anything like that, which is kind of a shame, but it’s not like it’s a tough task, so I don’t mind too much. I guess that would be helpful if you were disabled or something.

  I turn and see Mom looking at me. Her tray of cookies sits on the counter, and she’s chewing on one. “J.P. was there, I trust?” Mom says after she swallows.

  “Well, yeah,” I say like she’s just asked the dumbest question in the world.

  Mom raises her eyebrows.

  “Mom,” I scold. “Would you stop it? J.P. and I are barely even friends. We’re both losers, and we know it, but that doesn’t mean we get along.” Mom has been rooting for us to get together for ages, but no matter how many times I explain it to her, she still doesn’t understand that even though J.P. and I sit together at lunch, we aren’t exactly friends. I’d love to have friends, to be part of the popular crowd, but I don’t. Sometimes I feel like I’d do practically anything to fit in. Anything, that is, but risk disappointing my father. Not to add that I know it’d be impossible to get into Ariel’s crowd.

  “Oh, honey. You’re not a loser,” my mom assures me.

  Luckily, the stove dings just then to tell me my lunch is ready, so I don’t have to explain to my mother just how much of a loser I am. I shove my food in my mouth so I don’t have to talk.

  “Slow down, Mila. That’s not healthy.”

  I roll my eyes at her, and she takes it as a cue to stop pestering me. Instead, she announces she’s going for a dip in our pool.

  After I’m done eating, I toss my dish in the recycling and head to my room to test out my new tech. I try the shower first and notice it’s quick to respond to my commands for a temperature change. Dad already installed new chips in all the appliances in the house as part of the beta test, so all of us and our house are compatible now.

  My watch is still attached to my wrist, and I tell it to play music again so I can get used to the new feature. I jump a little when it starts playing in my head, but this time I’m prepared. I listen to the music as I shower, and it plays my favorite song. I close my eyes and sing along. Then, just for a brief moment, I hear something out of the ordinary, almost like someone is calling out my name. I mentally tell the music to quit.

  “Mom?” I ask over the noise of the water. “Was that you?” I listen for her response, but I don’t hear it. I figure the song just sounds different since it’s playing in my head instead of through speakers.

  3

  J.P. and I sit in silence at
the lunch table. It’s like this every day. He sometimes opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but he never does. Today, he keeps his eyes down and on his food.

  I let my eyes wander across the lunch room. I notice some kids glaring and pointing at me from a few tables away. The guy who picks his nose and sits alone at the table next to mine is staring at me funny. Even the genius kid who sits behind me in math has his eyes locked on me.

  It must be because of my new implant. It glows a slightly brighter blue on the back of my neck than everyone else’s does. I casually reach up and pull out my elastic so my dark hair will conceal the implant. I’m not sure how casually I manage it as my eyes dart around the room uncomfortably. I’d rather look anywhere but at the group of kids staring at me.

  “Don’t worry about them,” J.P. says.

  “What?” I ask, turning back to him.

  “They’re just jealous. They want the upgrade, too.”

  I nod like I understand, but I really don’t know why they needed to point and stare.

  “What about your upgrade?” I ask.

  “I don’t have it yet. Remember?”

  Right. J.P. was part of this round’s control group. Working at Mahone didn’t always have its privileges. They needed some people to look at the data objectively without testing it on themselves and getting biased feedback. J.P. used to get the upgrades the same time I did, but not since he started apprenticing with them at the beginning of the year.

  We sit in silence for another few minutes. It’s only ever small talk with us, if that. In the silence, I think about what happened to me yesterday and briefly wonder what it means. After lunch, J.P. is headed straight for the Mahone offices. It’s part of the apprenticeship program where he gets to skip out on the last half of school and still get credit for working there. Perhaps, I think, he could look into it for me.