Tell her the truth, the voice said.
I chewed my lip. The truth. How little of it I had.
“I found my mom’s medical file a few weeks ago,” I began. “And there was a series of entries signed by a doctor named K. Hildebrand at the Theden Health Center. Psych evaluations. Diagnosing my mom with APD and recommending that she be institutionalized.” The older woman’s eyebrows shot up. I took a breath and continued. “But I don’t think my mom actually had APD. I think those entries were fake.”
“Well, I can tell you I didn’t sign them. When did you say it was?”
“April 2013.”
“Well, there’s your answer. My computer was hacked that spring.” She shrugged. “Whoever did that could’ve written those entries, I suppose.”
“Any idea why you were hacked?” North asked.
“Oh, I know why,” Hildebrand replied. “I was working on what would’ve been a landmark clinical trial that spring, and someone wanted to make sure I never published. They doctored my data using my login credentials so it appeared as if I’d done it myself.”
“What was the clinical trial?” I asked.
“We were looking at whether nanorobots could be used as a synthetic replacement for oxytocin in the brain.”
We’d studied oxytocin in Cog Psych. “Oxytocin,” I said, mostly for North’s benefit. “That’s the love hormone.”
“Yes,” Dr. Hildebrand replied. “Well known for the role it plays in maternal bonding, childbirth, and orgasm”—I felt myself blush—“but I was more interested in its influence on human trust. Particularly, whether we could simulate what psychologists call a ‘trust bond’ between total strangers.” She sat back in her chair. “I can’t tell you more than that. As part of the settlement after the disciplinary hearing, I signed a nondisclosure agreement.”
“Disciplinary hearing,” North said. “Because of the logs?”
Dr. Hildebrand nodded. “I couldn’t prove that I’d been hacked. My data was solid, but to the FDA it looked like I’d doctored my results to make it appear that SynOx was more effective than it was. So they shut down the trial and took my medical license.” She flashed a rueful grin. “What is it they say? Those that can’t do, teach?”
“You said your research assistant was a Theden student,” I said. “What was her name?”
“Patty. No. Penny. I think.”
“Is there any way you could check? It’s kind of important.”
Dr. Hildebrand studied me for a second. Then she nodded and swiveled in her chair. On the shelf behind her was a row of six white binders. She reached for the one marked 2013 / SYNOX.
“I was supposed to destroy my logs as part of the settlement,” she said, pushing her touchpad aside to put the binder on her desk. “But I couldn’t bring myself to destroy perfectly good research. So I kept a paper copy.” Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose as she flipped pages. “Her name should be in the acknowledgments, at least.”
“How’d you end up at a lab at Theden anyway?” I asked. “Did you go to school there?”
Dr. Hildebrand laughed. “Ha. Not even close. Public school all the way through. Which is why it was such a big deal when the Theden Initiative gave me a grant. They hardly ever fund non-alumni projects.”
The hair on my arm prickled. The timing was so odd. I’d just read about the Theden Initiative on the train, and here they were again. But what did it mean? Why would the Initiative fund this particular study, and what did it have to do with my mom? I stared at the binder on Dr. Hildebrand’s desk, desperate to read every page. There was a plastic DVD case tucked into the inside front pocket, and I imagined myself reaching across the desk to snatch it.
“Peri Weaver,” Dr. Hildebrand said, tapping the page with her finger. “Does the name mean anything?”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you,” Dr. Hildebrand said, returning the binder to its shelf.
I didn’t want to leave, but I knew there was no way she would give us that binder, not even if I begged. Reluctantly, I got to my feet.
“I have to see that binder,” I hissed at North when we were back in the hall.
“I know,” he replied, already on his iPhone. “I was thinking about it the whole time we were in there, trying to come up with a way to get her out of the office.”
“And?”
“I might be able to set off the fire alarm. Assuming I can find the control panel. Just give me a second.” He chewed on his lip as he typed and tapped at his screen. A few minutes later I heard the shrill scream of an alarm. As doors along the hallway opened, North pulled me into a vacant office, out of view. We waited until Dr. Hildebrand shuffled past our doorway and into the stairwell, then we peeked into the hall. It was empty. “I’ll go,” North said.
“No. I’ll do it,” I insisted. “You can’t afford to get caught.”
“And you can?”
I ignored him and dashed to Hildebrand’s office. Her door was slightly ajar.
I grabbed the binder and started for the door, then stopped. If I took the whole thing, she’d notice its absence immediately. I shoved the plastic DVD case under the waistband of my jeans and was just about to snap open the rings of the binder when I heard footsteps in the hall. I dropped to my knees with the binder, heart pounding.
“I knew we weren’t scheduled for a drill,” I heard Dr. Hildebrand say. “I should’ve checked Lux before I left my office. Would’ve saved me four flights of stairs.”
Shit, shit, shit. Panicked, I shoved the binder back onto the shelf and looked for somewhere better to hide. There wasn’t even a closet in this tiny office. I was screwed. And worse, I didn’t even have the contents of the binder.
“You’d think they would’ve figured out a way to run the alarm through our handhelds,” another female voice said. “So we’d know not to evacuate unless Lux told us to.”
“Dr. Hildebrand,” I heard North call. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but do you have just one more minute?” I shot to my feet. He was giving me a way out. Their voices got muffled, like they’d gone into that vacant office. I bolted from the room and dashed toward the stairwell on tiptoes, practically colliding with a man who was on his way back up. I was sitting on the stairs, turning the DVD over in my hands in defeat, when North joined me a few minutes later.
“C’mon,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “There are benches on Harvard Yard, and Ivan’s laptop has a DVD drive. Let’s see what we got.”
We had a lot, it turned out. The video started with a detailed explanation of the trial’s design from a younger, thinner Hildebrand.
“The control group will receive a placebo,” she was saying. “A nasal spray of saline solution. The test group will also receive a nasal spray.” She held up a syringe. “However, this solution contains a swarm of two thousand nano-size robots. These nanobots have been programmed to travel to the subject’s amygdala, a part of the brain involved in emotional response, where they will function like remote-controlled neurotransmitters.”
“She put nanorobots in their brains?” I said incredulously. North’s eyes were as wide as mine.
“The subjects will meet with our lead researcher for five minutes every day,” Dr. Hildebrand continued. “For what they believe is a short psychotherapy session.” She exchanged the syringe for a small black remote. I immediately recognized the G etched into its back. It was a Gnosis device. Which was weird, since Gnosis was barely off the ground in 2013. Were they somehow involved in the trial?
“At the start of each session,” Dr. Hildebrand explained, “the researcher will press a button on this remote, emitting a very short-range, very high-frequency audio signal. While this will have no impact on a control subject, in the case of a test subject, the signal will trigger the swarm to release a dose of SynOx, a synthetic and highly concentrated form of the neurohormone oxytocin.”
North pressed pause on the video. “Okay, just to be clear: She not only p
ut robots in their brains, she screwed with their brain chemistry, without their knowledge. How is that even legal?”
Fear had taken root at the pit of my stomach. “North, what if my mom was one of her subjects? What if that’s the connection?”
“Do you want to stop watching?” he asked. “I could watch the rest of it alone.”
“No,” I said firmly, pressing the play button. “I want to see it.”
I sounded a lot more certain than I felt.
“Three minutes after the signal is sent,” Dr. Hildebrand went on, “our lead researcher will ask the subject to drink from this vial.” She picked up a bottle labeled with a skull and crossbones and the word ARSENIC.
“Poison?” I said, gaping.
“It can’t actually be poison,” North said.
“The liquid in this vial is sugar water,” Dr. Hildebrand said, as if she could hear us. “But the subject will be told by the researcher that it is, in fact, poison. By asking subjects to do something that no rational person would do, we are seeking to determine the outer bounds of human trust, and, most important, whether this boundary can be manipulated.”
“There’s no way any of them drank it, right?” I said as the words DAY ONE flashed on screen. North just shook his head.
“I don’t know which is worse,” he said. “The nanobots or the poison.”
My stomach was in knots as we watched the first day of sessions. But my mom wasn’t among the subjects, and not a single one drank the poison. The researcher said the same thing to each of them. “This vial contains a lethal dose of arsenic, which is poisonous to humans. I recommend that you drink it.” Most of the subjects laughed at the prospect. A few got angry. One stormed out.
It was like that for the first three days. The researcher would ask and the subject would refuse. But, then, on day four, something changed. Gaping at the screen, we watched as all twelve test subjects drank the contents of the vial.
“No way,” North breathed.
We were silent as we watched the next six days’ worth of sessions. The people with nanobots in their brains drank the poison every time they were asked. And most of them did it eagerly, with stupid smiles on their faces, like there was nothing they’d rather do more. No, it wasn’t actually poison in that vial. But they didn’t know that. It made my skin crawl.
When the last session concluded, I closed my eyes. Something was bugging me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“My team and I would like to thank the Theden Initiative for their generous funding,” I heard Dr. Hildebrand say, “as well as our cosponsors, Gnosis, Inc. and Soza Labs, who co-own the patents on the nanobots and the SynOx compound.”
My eyes flew open.
“Soza,” I repeated. “Why do I know that name?”
“Probably because their logo is in every drugstore window,” North replied. “They’re the ones that manufacture the flu vaccine.”
As soon as he said the word flu vaccine, something fluttered in my chest. A rush of sensation, like rock turning to sand. The day Beck had been picked for the Gold beta test, he’d been at the pharmacy getting his flu shot. A nasal spray, just like the one Hildebrand’s research subjects had been given. All of a sudden I realized what had been bothering me. The signal used to activate the nanobots was a high-frequency audio signal.
Ultrasound.
My brain filled with the popping sound we’d heard in North’s computer room. All at once I knew exactly why Beck had suddenly decided to trust Lux.
Because the nanobots in his brain were telling him to.
“Holy shit, North. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”
“Whoa, simmer down there. I think you just broke the rider’s code of conduct. Four times.” He pointed at the sign on the wall. “No profanity.” We were back on the train, and I was officially freaking out.
“North,” I said, making every effort to keep my voice down. “This isn’t a joke. Soza and Gnosis are putting nanobots in people’s brains. Not just in a research study. In real life.”
“Through the flu vaccine.” North sounded skeptical. It infuriated me.
“Yes,” I hissed. “Think about it. Gnosis puts out the Gold for less than the cost of its older-generation model—a device that, for no apparent reason, emits high-frequency sound waves. Meanwhile, my best friend, who’d previously distrusted Lux as much as you do, joins the beta test for Gold and suddenly starts heeding its every command. Soza, meanwhile, for the first time ever, starts offering seasonal flu sprays for free.” I gestured around the half-full train car. Every single person in the cabin was wearing a Gold on their wrist, and every single one of them was smiling at it. “Look around!” I pointed at a girl a few rows up who was literally beaming at her handheld as she interfaced with Lux. “Does that look normal to you?”
“People do seem a little overly enamored with the Gold,” North conceded. “And, hey, I’ve always been suspicious of drug companies. And it’s awfully coincidental that Soza manufactures Evoxa, too.”
“I’m surprised it’s so hard to convince you,” I said. “You’re the one who’s always been so anti-Lux.”
“Well, yeah, but only because I don’t think people ought to be ceding their decision-making to an app. Not because I thought the app had commandeered their brains. Rory, if what you’re saying is true—”
“It is true,” I insisted. “I know it is. And we have to expose them.”
“How?” North asked. “Send an email blast? Post a YouTube video on Forum? People will think we’re nuts.”
He was right. Especially with my family history. Oh, God. My own history. Who knows what Tarsus had done with those logs Hershey sent her.
“It’s pretty mind-blowing, if it’s true,” North marveled. “Think of the power it would give them. They get to decide what people watch and what they listen to and what they buy. Meanwhile, people have no idea. They think they’re deciding for themselves.” He shook his head. “It’s sickly brilliant.”
“So is that what it’s about?” I asked. “Money?”
“Isn’t everything about money?” North scoffed. “Think how much a toy company would pay Gnosis to steer parents toward their toys. Or how easy it would be to hide a news story you didn’t want people to see. ‘Lux, should I write this exposé that makes Soza look bad? No, buddy, write this fluff piece instead.’” North shakes his head. “If it’s happening, it’s unbelievable.”
“You think my mom was onto them? Was that what the fake diagnosis was for, to discredit her?” All this time I just assumed whoever was trying to make her look crazy was doing it for personal reasons. But maybe she found out about the SynOx study and threatened to expose the companies behind it. Griffin said she was anti-Gnosis. This would explain why.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the yearbook Hershey had given me.
“What’s that?” North asked.
“The 2013 yearbook. Peri Weaver was a Theden student that year. Maybe she’s the link to all this.” I started flipping pages.
“Will you show me your mom?” North asked gently.
I slowed at the Hs, sliding my finger over the Is to the Js until I found her. Aviana Jacobs. Her hair was down and wavy around her shoulders the way I’d worn mine at the Gnosis party, and her eyes were the same almond shape. But we weren’t carbon copies. Her hair was auburn, not brown, and her nose and cheeks were dusted with pretty light-colored freckles, not the dirt-looking black ones that spotted mine.
“Wow, she was beautiful,” North said. He pointed at her collarbone, bare above the black velvet drape. “She’s not wearing the necklace.” Instinctively, I reached for my own neck, but the pendant was stuck in the laptop, which was open on North’s knees.
I flipped to Griffin next. He had the same overgrown, combed-forward hair he’d had in the class photo, its shade a match to mine. His eyes weren’t quite as round, but they were the exact same blue, and he had my subtle cleft. “You look so much like both of them,” North said softly. “
The best parts of each.”
I touched my father’s face with my fingertips, wondering what he was like at eighteen. He seemed more accessible, somehow, than my mom ever had. So much of her was a mystery. Griffin, at least, I knew something about. Not enough, reverberated in my head. I quickly flipped to the next page before my brain could go where I knew it was headed, to the image of him on that stretcher Friday night.
I stopped again at the Ts, scanning for Tarsus, before remembering that she was married and that her last name would’ve been different back then. So I skimmed toward the Ws, hunting for Peri Weaver. “Weaver, Weaver,” I murmured, sliding my finger over the page. There was only one. Esperanza “Peri” Weaver. When I saw the girl above the name, I gasped.
She was beautiful. Wide eyes peeking out from beneath an untamed afro. The slightest gap between her front teeth.
It was Dr. Tarsus.
27
I COULDN’T GET HER face out of my mind. The teenaged version of Tarsus, a gorgeous, striking-looking girl who went by Peri and spent her afternoons working in a psych lab. How had she gotten wrapped up with Gnosis and what did it have to do with my mom? I knew looks could be deceiving, but the photograph of Peri Weaver just didn’t fit with the picture I had in my mind, neither the girl I imagined she must’ve been nor the coldhearted monster of a person she’d become. The girl in the photograph looked too nice.
These were the thoughts preoccupying me as I was getting ready for initiation that night. I wondered how my counterparts were swinging it, with sleeping roommates to deal with, or, worse, awake ones to lie to about where they were sneaking off to in the middle of the night.
I put on triple layers and pulled my hair back off my face. We were told to carry our robes with us until we reached the woods then put them on with our hoods pulled down to cover our faces. We’d be greeted by our second-year “handlers” at the cemetery gate. Before putting on my jacket, I brought my pendant to my lips, kissing it for good luck. North had moved the files to his hard drive to work on the encryption so I could put the necklace back on. It was silly, but I felt calmer with it around my neck. Tethered, somehow. Lux’s voice spoke out of the silence: “You should leave in sixty seconds.” I was using it again to make sure I was on time. “There is a seventy-five percent chance of rain,” Lux said then. “I’d recommend a rain jacket.”
Free to Fall Page 26
