The Mind Virus

by Donna Freitas

  “I appreciate your honesty,” I said quickly, before she could feel worse for making herself so vulnerable, to me of all people. I had to give Lacy credit. “It took a lot of . . . courage to tell me all that.”

  She was staring at the ceiling, unwilling to look at me. “But?” she prompted.

  “No buts,” I replied. “I told you. The answer is yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  “Just yes? No conditions? No, ‘Yes, but Lacy, you aren’t allowed to kiss my boyfriend while I’m virtually cavorting around the App World’?”

  I nodded. “Yes. No conditions.”

  Lacy stopped staring at the ceiling and returned her eyes to me. “You wouldn’t care if I tried to kiss Rain?”

  I thought about this. I wanted to answer as honestly as I could since Lacy had been so honest with me. I owed her that much. “I would care. Of course I’d care. It would make me jealous,” I told her, which was true. Despite our fighting and despite how controlling Rain could be and the way he was always trying to protect me when I didn’t want him to. “But you’re right. Rain has gone back and forth between the two of us long enough. If he still has feelings for you and wants to be with you, then he should. And you should kiss him. I won’t get in the way. Not now, not during my shift, and not afterward when I wake up again.”

  She blinked at me, like she couldn’t believe what I’d just told her. “Okay, then. We have a deal.”

  I put out my hand. “Good,” I said, hoping with all my might that I wouldn’t live to regret this.

  Lacy placed her fingers into my palm, everything about them thin and delicate. Her lips parted. “Thank you,” she said, with a sincerity I’d never detected in all the time we’d known each other.

  Maybe this would truly be the beginning of a new chapter in our relationship.

  A good chapter.

  I could only hope.

  11

  Ree

  nice to meet you

  THE HOUSE WAS shaking with music.

  Seriously shaking. Like there was an earthquake underneath us, rumbling through the ground. People were screaming downstairs, followed by the sound of something smashing against the wall, then more shouting and a lot of laughter. People were whooping it up.

  I was in someone’s bedroom, luckily a someone who wasn’t here right now sleeping or doing something else unseemly. Then again, I didn’t come here to hide. I came here to see and be seen, emphasis on the be seen part. This place could use a download of one of my Interior Decorator Apps, though. The bed was so narrow a person could barely shutdown comfortably in it, not to mention the mustard-yellow color of the duvet cover. Mustard yellow? Really? Vomit would be more attractive. Never mind the posters of Old Edition, the retro boy band that was popular in the City when I was, like, a nine. There was a mirror on the wall and I went to take a look.

  Yup. There I was, my avatar like always whenever I played this game. Long, lush eyelashes. Silky black hair pulled into a perfectly perky ponytail, high up on my head. Pouty lips. Perfect boobs to go with my oh-so-amazing body.

  The knob of the door rattled.

  Was this it? Would someone finally find me? See me?

  It stopped. Perhaps whoever it was sensed the bad taste of the decor from the other side of the door and realized it would be a mistake to submit to the sight of pea-green walls to go with mustard-yellow sheets. Did I not yet mention that the walls were pea green? Which truly is the color of vomit. I primped my hair, while at the same time trying not to internalize the severe lack of style in my vicinity.

  Then I headed out into the hallway.

  It was long, miles long, it seemed. It went on forever, doorway after doorway. But where were all the people? Was there seriously no one up here? It sounded like there might be thousands of people drinking and dancing one floor below. I made my way to the staircase and as I started down the steps the smell of stale beer assaulted my virtual senses. I covered my nose. The stench might be worse than the assault on my eyes from that bedroom. Well. That’s life at a freshman college party, I supposed.

  The game I chose was called Greek Life, College Edition.

  And the tagline was: How fast can you make it to the top?

  It sounded ridiculous as far as games go, but it was really hard to advance to the different levels. I know this because it took me forever to get to the level where my avatar had this many enhancements. Everyone starts out at a party full of drunken first-years, and must try and get the students higher up on the social food chain to give them the time of day. Ultimately you have to convince these vapid sorority chicks to let you into their houses or whatever, and eventually you have to try to become head sorority girl by acting really mean and nasty to other people. At least, that’s how the game was played. The last time I played I nearly, nearly won by becoming VP of the most prestigious sorority around. Translation: in this game, I am one of those vapid sorority chicks, and an important one at that. There are different houses, all of them ranked from most to least popular, and the least popular ones are always where you find the nice people. The less popular, the nicer people became. The same went for the guys and fraternities and convincing them to let you . . . what was it? . . . pledge, I think it was called.

  Along the way you could pick up extra points by doing stupid little things.

  Convincing some guy to let you to the front of the beer line to fill your red Solo cup.

  Doing a successful keg stand.

  Winning at a drinking game.

  Breaking a pricey vase.

  Making out with some guy or girl, whichever person you fancy, on a whim.

  Blah, blah, blah.

  I’d tried them all and then some.

  Not exactly the most respectable recreation I could have chosen. Char was the person who always wanted to play it and she’d drag me along with her. Eventually I learned how to make it through all the levels and keep Char from making an idiot of herself. Mostly.

  Best of all, though, given my current predicament: everyone was always checking everyone else out to see who might up their status next.

  It was time for my big debut! And subsequent salvation!

  I uncovered my nose, gave my ponytail a little shake, and started down the stairs again, wading farther into the stench, giant smile pasted onto my adorable face. I could already see dozens of pairs of feet jumping up and down to the beat of the music.

  Lower and lower I went.

  Soon everyone would turn my way like always and I’d be flooded with admirers. Then all I’d need to do was find the right person to corner and explain my teensy weensy little situation back in the City with this whole government lockdown business and convince that person to help get me out of prison life.

  My eyes were on my feet, taking care not to fall when I reached the bottom, since I couldn’t afford to lose any status points. Plus, the heels on my sorority-girl avatar’s feet were insane. Six inches tall and glittery enough to blind someone, at least temporarily.

  One more step . . .

  I reached the floor, my sparkly toe nearly catching on the ragged old disgustingly stained rug. Then, with a flourish, I looked up.

  The party was crazy packed, people crowded into every available space and corner and chair and couch. The dance floor was bouncing and beer was spilling everywhere as people jumped up and down. There were keg stands happening everywhere and people making out all over the place. It was difficult to move, there were so many excited newbies.

  I looked left, I looked right.

  I waited for the adoration to flood my way.

  I batted my eyelashes. Smiled prettily. Led with my boobs.

  And . . . absolutely . . .

  Nothing.

  Nothing, nothing, nothing.

  People pushed past me, seemed to look straight at me, screamed at each other over the music in their attempt at small talk, but it was like I wasn’t even there. Nobody offered me a beer. Nobody tried to kiss me. Nobody
complimented me on my amazingly toned legs on full view in this ridiculously short skirt I was wearing.

  No, no, no, no, no!

  This idea had to work.

  Disappointment pranced through me to the beat, mocking me.

  Was I totally wrong in thinking that entering a game would provide me a loophole in my government-aided disappearance? That in the City people may not be able to see or hear me, but in a multiplayer game they might? Did I seriously come to this stupid college party in this overdone bitchy queen-bee getup for nothing?

  “Gaahhhhhhhh,” I screamed.

  It was loud in here, but I yelled right into the ear of some gangly freshman boy and he didn’t even turn my way. I was so demoralized about my continued invisibility that I actually allowed myself to sit on one of the sticky, liquor-stained stairs. I put my head between my knees and did my best to breathe through the anguish, but after a minute or two, the stench became too much. I lifted my head, ponytail flopping to the side of my face in a way that was surely not very becoming, but then, what did I care?

  As usual, nobody knew I existed.

  But it was right then that someone caught my eye.

  One of these things is not like the other! went the childhood song in my head. One of these things just doesn’t belong!

  A boy was slumped against the wall like he really did not want to be here, either, his face all broody and like he maybe just lost his best friend or his favorite App drained away too soon. My virtual skin tingled all over with static as bright and electric as the sparkle of my shoes.

  Because he was looking at me.

  He was looking at me like I was actually there.

  I got up from the step, did my best to brush the beer scum from my mini, and stood tall though slightly wobbly in these damn heels.

  I started toward him.

  And his eyes, they followed me.

  They kept following me, too!

  I pushed through short first-years and jumping first-years and drunk first-years who didn’t seem to know I was alive, but this guy, this guy was watching me the entire time.

  Could it be that I was saved?!

  I shoved my way through the last of the crowd between him and me, and suddenly there he was and there I was, fluttering my long, lush lashes like my life depended on it. And it kind of did, honestly.

  “Hello?” he said, and not entirely friendly either.

  But I didn’t care! I wasn’t going to be picky!

  “You can see me??!!” I screamed excitedly, even though he was standing right there, in front of my face, looking all handsome and tall and happy to see me. Well, or maybe he was just surprised to see me, but whatever. Details. “Yahoo!”

  He took a step back, wincing. “You don’t have to yell.”

  I waved my arms around in a wild dance, still unable to believe that after all this time someone was aware of my virtual existence.

  He took another step back. “Um, stop trying to hit me.”

  I laughed. Well, maybe it was more of a cackle or shriek of unfettered glee. “I’m so not trying to hit you. Or hit on you. What’s your problem anyway? You look pretty grumpy.”

  This observation did not seem to endear him to me. His frown deepened. “None of your business,” he said. “I don’t even know you.”

  “Ah, so it’s girl trouble, is it?” I asked, bouncing up and down on my toes. I could sense girlfriend problems from a mile away. I knew I’d hit on the problem, too, from the way this boy’s face got all scrunched up and ready to deny it. And I could see it in his eyes, the need to finally talk to someone about it. “Well, you’re lucky to come across the likes of me,” I went on, before he could get any words out. “I’m an expert in assisting with girl troubles.” I put out my hand. “My name is Ree and I’m so happy to meet you. Like, crazy nutty happy!” I sang that last word alto and it rippled with a nice high and wavy bravado.

  The boy looked like he definitely wasn’t sure he felt the same way about me. But eventually he wiped his hand off on his jeans and he slipped it into mine. He hesitated another minute before finally, he spoke.

  “I’m Adam,” he said.

  12

  Skylar

  faith

  TWO HOURS LATER and there I was, setting my limbs into one of those cradles yet again. Lying in one of those horrible boxes.

  Blinking up at Lacy, of all people. Putting my trust in her. I looked around, stared through the glass enclosing me. Putting my trust in this uncertain technology, too. Trust that, yes, it would help me cross the border without detection.

  Rain would be so angry at me when he found out. But then, Lacy would have to handle him this time. After all, she said that she would.

  “Are you ready?” she was saying from above me.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. I had to admit: I was impressed by her. She was all business from the moment I arrived. “All right. I’m going to shift.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, preparing myself to go under. Just before I began to drift I heard Lacy’s voice again.

  “Don’t worry, Skylar,” she said. “I’m going to take care of you. You can count on me. I promise.”

  Kit smiled.

  I smiled back.

  He put out his hand and I took it. We were on a beach, the day cloudy, but I didn’t care. I loved the beach and the ocean no matter what the weather. This, and . . . Kit. I loved . . . Kit.

  The two of us wandered across the sand slowly, like we had all the time in the world, leaning into each other, not speaking. Just being together.

  I felt so happy.

  But then I looked up and saw that the sky had become a murky green, a color I’d seen before, a color that was ugly and foreboding. I stopped walking and turned to face Kit. “Do you think we’ll ever find our way to each other again?” I asked.

  His eyes darkened like the clouds above. “I honestly don’t know.”

  I nodded. My happiness fled. “I think I’m not supposed to be here.”

  “You are. You’re supposed to be with me.”

  “But you just said you didn’t—” I stopped speaking.

  Kit had vanished.

  I clutched at my chest.

  What was I doing here? How did I even get here?

  I started down the beach again. Far, far ahead I could see a group of people. Children. They were running in circles, skipping, and they were singing. No, they were chanting. I listened, trying to make out their words.

  “Long live the king and queen of New Port City! King Rain and Queen Skylar!”

  I halted. Turned around and walked quickly in the other direction.

  It was starting to storm. Fiercely.

  I put my hands up, trying to block the rain from pounding my face. A thought nudged at me and my brain drew it out, and as it became clearer and clearer in my mind, the torrent lessened until it was just a light mist.

  Shifting.

  I was shifting. I was crossing the border into the App World. That’s what I was doing, and this was just the in-between-place. That’s where I was.

  I was just a little rusty. Rusty at shifting.

  The more lucid I became, the more control I had, and I watched as the clouds cleared and the sun came out, and soon the beach was disappearing and I was in that long familiar hallway with the doors. I did my best to push away the unease I was left with after seeing Kit and reminded myself that it was only a dream. But still . . .

  Focus.

  I needed to focus.

  There were so many doors. They seemed to have grown exponentially since I’d last done this. Trader’s house in Loner Town was a logical enough place to cross into the App World, so I began to search for the door.

  My attention was grabbed elsewhere. By a door that pulled at me, drawing me toward it. I let myself go to it. Stood in front of it, careful not to get too close. Bars crisscrossed it. Heavy and metal. Sharp spikes jutted out where the bars didn’t cover the battered wood behind them.

  It was a prison door.

&
nbsp; It had to be. Why else would it look like this?

  Rain had mentioned the possibility of virtual prison, but I’d never heard of the App World having a jail. No one had spoken of one during my years there. Then again, lots had happened in both worlds, to say the least. Whatever was on the other side of this door, I needed to see it. I could feel the certainty of this. It was where I needed to go. Before I could think better of it, I reached for the thick latch to see if it would allow me through.

  At first nothing happened.

  Then I heard the screech of metal sliding across metal.

  It opened a crack and I stepped forward.

  The hallway with the doors was gone.

  I’d crossed the border into unknown territory.

  The familiar feeling of static moved across my skin. Virtual skin.

  Once again, I was a virtual girl. I pushed this thought away.

  I blinked, taking in my surroundings. I was in an apartment—a nice apartment. How strange. I’d expected some sort of dank cell like I’d seen on the old-time Real World movies, dirty and ugly, with more of the same bars to pen me in—or to pen in whoever was imprisoned. But instead there were plush white couches everywhere like I’d grown used to at the Sachses’ apartment, and clear evidence of Interior Decorator Apps. Pricey ones. Not at all what I’d imagined would be behind that door.

  “I think I know you,” someone said, sounding shocked but also kind of snarky.

  And at the same time . . . elated.

  I spun. There was a girl standing there. She couldn’t be much younger than me. Before I had a chance to respond or even ask her name, there came another loud knock, this time from the hallway outside.

  The girl turned toward it, jaw hanging open. She started to laugh, to giggle uncontrollably, her fiery red hair, the one feature that really defined her—fiery like Lacy’s—swaying along her back. “All this time stuck by myself and now I have not one but two visitors.” Her voice gurgled, the laughter bubbling into the atmosphere. “Maybe it’s the government. Maybe they’ve come to erase me,” she whispered, eyes wild, then went to the door and threw it wide. “You made it! You really came like you said you would! How did you get through? I can’t believe you’re here!”