The Mind Virus

by Donna Freitas

  Adam turned to me, the vacant look in his eyes gone. “What do you mean? There’s more than one?”

  “There’s, like, a gazillion of them. There are holes in the atmosphere all over the City. None quite as big as that one. But if you know how to look for them, you’ll see that they’re everywhere.” I got up and began investigating everything in the room, every spot, every corner, every piece of furniture, from every angle I could manage for a girl of my height.

  “What in both worlds are you doing?” Adam asked.

  “Searching for one right now, obviously.” I got up on my toes to peer at a shelf on the wall. “It’s all in how you look.” My voice tapered as something flashed after I got down on my hands and knees. “There,” I said triumphantly, crawling toward the coffee table. If I bent low, I could see it. A hole about a foot long and vertical. “Come here,” I told Adam.

  He pulled himself off the couch and crouched next to me.

  “May I?” I gestured at his hand.

  He nodded and I took it. Then I thrust our clasped hands into the black gap in the atmosphere and they disappeared.

  “Holy—”

  “—I know.”

  The virtual skin of my hand grew cold and tingly. The longer I held us there the colder it got, until I thought icicles would form along our fingers. When I pulled out our hands they were nearly blue.

  Adam snatched his back and investigated it. He seemed surprised it was still there. “This is not good.”

  I scrambled to my feet. “Tell me about it. There’s probably others all around us. If we spent a little time searching, I bet we’d find a bunch more.”

  “Ree,” Adam began. He looked up at me from the place where he still sat crouched on the carpet. “How did you learn this? Where were you?”

  “If I told you now you’d have so many questions and there isn’t really time. I only came back here to grab a few things and change before heading off.”

  “But—”

  “—no buts.” I checked my capital account and was pleased to see that I had at least something left. Just enough for my purposes. “Let me download us some new clothes with what little capital remains to the Aristocrat family name. I can’t go anywhere in these worn-out rags. I need to look my best. And you could use a little outfit change yourself. That is, if you want to come with me? You do look like you could use some rest, but it’s your choice.”

  “Where?” Adam asked.

  I called up my App Store. “Pathetic,” I muttered, when I saw the paltry number of icons that appeared now that I no longer had unlimited downloads at my fingertips. I found the App I needed and touched it. “Tell me first, do you want to join me or not?”

  “I can’t,” Adam said. “I have to unplug and warn the others in the Real World.”

  “Your girlfriend, you mean?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he said quickly. There was something raw there, as raw as a still untested prototype App. “But yes, her. And the rest of my friends. I can’t stay here any longer. They need this information.”

  I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “Just tell me where you’re going, so I know how to find you later.”

  The App began to transform my clothing, and soon I was dressed like the proper lady I needed to be for what lay ahead. “I actually believe you when you say that,” I told him. “Since you’ve come for me twice now. You’re a good person, Adam. A boy of your word.”

  “Thank you, I think,” he said. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  “Yes,” I sighed, as the prim heels appearing on my feet lifted me nearly to his chin. Adam was a tall one. “I’m going to see Lady Holt.”

  “Lady Holt,” Adam stated. “Rain Holt’s mother. Jonathan Holt’s wife.”

  “The very same,” I confirmed.

  “Seriously?”

  I imitated the shocked tone in Adam’s voice. “Yes, seriously!”

  Adam was gaping at me. “What could she possibly do to help?”

  “Oh, plenty, I suspect. More than her inept husband, I’m sure. He was just a puppet anyway, in my opinion.” I called up a Mirror App and took in my appearance. I looked so ladylike in my pink tweed skirt suit, pearls, and stockings. Perfect. “Because, as my late and much-missed mother always told me, which I think she learned from some women’s self-help App she used to download: you should never trust a man to do a woman’s job.”

  29

  Skylar

  gathering forces

  “GO LEFT,” I told Kit.

  He hesitated, then leaned the bike in the direction I’d asked.

  The graffiti along our route intensified.

  GO BACK TO YOUR VAPID VIRTUAL EXISTENCE.

  THE REAL WORLD IS FOR REAL PEOPLE.

  YOU ABANDONED US, NOW WE ABANDON YOU!

  The slogans and protests expressed rage and judgment, dismay that the quiet and orderly life the Keepers had worked hard to achieve had been disrupted, maybe permanently. I understood the resistance, the fears and the anger behind it, but how were we going to get everyone on board for what was to come?

  The night was chilly, cold, even, and I wasn’t dressed to be riding around like this. My teeth chattered, but I resisted the urge to grip Kit even tighter than I already was. I knew he and I needed more time to sort things out between us. Diving back into whatever we’d started in February without having talked to Rain, without Kit and me truly facing all that had transpired since then, was not a good idea.

  But the heart wants what it wants as well. And mine wanted Kit.

  “Here,” I told him, and he turned down the drive where I pointed. “I need to run in for a few minutes. Then we’ll head on to Briarwood.”

  He cut the engine so we could coast without noise, without waking every single person sleeping in the tall, imposing mansion that cut a shadow across the night. There was a flicker of light in one of the highest floors, but otherwise the windows were dark.

  Kit pulled to a stop and set his feet on the ground, steadying the bike. “You’re freezing,” he said, once he realized I was shaking.

  I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm myself. “I’m fine,” I lied.

  He let this go. “Who lives here?”

  I swung my leg over the seat and hopped down. “My Keeper.”

  Kit parked the motorcycle to the side of the drive in the cover of a long tree branch. He’d tugged the edges of his sleeves tight over his wrists. Maybe he didn’t realize that I’d seen what they covered. “Doesn’t she have a name?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Though she’s never told me and says she won’t. As I’m sure you know, it’s forbidden for Keepers to tell their wards their real names because the word, Keeper, was ideally supposed to carry the same meaning as mother or father.”

  “Did it work?” Kit asked. “Do you see her as a parent?”

  I thought about this, remembering how the feeling that she regarded me as though I was her child had passed through me on many occasions since I woke up in her care. “Yes, actually. I do see her that way. Or at the very least as an aunt. Someone I can depend on, no matter what.”

  “That must be nice,” he said softly.

  “It is,” I admitted.

  There was an exhaustion in Kit’s eyes that he’d kept well-hidden until now, and I wondered if it was thoughts of his lost parents that put it there, or if it was all that shifting. Shifting could wreck your body, regardless of how young or strong you were. Maybe it could even wreck an entire world. An entire virtual civilization, I thought. But then again, so could family. Well, mine, at the very least. “I’ll just be a minute,” I told Kit, worried that he might fall asleep while standing.

  This seemed to snap him out of it. “You’re not going in there alone.”

  “It’s safe, I promise,” I told him.

  He shook his head and followed me inside.

  I opened the door as quietly as I could, not wanting to startle or scare my Keeper awake. But when we entered a soft
light greeted us from the kitchen. My Keeper stood over the sink, washing more dishes than I could believe were contained in the cabinets.

  She turned. “Skylar?” She looked and sounded nearly as weary as Kit. “What are you doing here so late?” Her eyes slid to him, but her expression gave away nothing. She wiped her hands with a towel and came to give me a hug. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” she whispered.

  “I know,” I whispered guiltily back. “I’m sorry.”

  When she pulled away, she returned her attention to Kit. “Hello,” she said, not unfriendly. But not overly friendly either.

  “This is Kit,” I said.

  “I figured,” she said.

  There was no motion to shake hands or greet each other formally, and I let this go. For now. Everyone in my life seemed to have an allegiance toward Rain. I pointed to the giant piles of dishes. “What’s that all about?”

  My Keeper glanced back. “Oh, you know. Feeding those people who never learned or forgot the skill of feeding themselves.”

  “The refugees staying here? You’re cooking for all of them?”

  She sighed. “As much as I can.”

  “I know you’re a Keeper, but one person isn’t enough to Keep all the people staying at the mansion.”

  “No,” she said. “But we have to make do. There are too few of us to go around for so many people. As you know, there are a lot of Keepers very unhappy with the arrival of our new citizens. Eventually things will get better. I hope,” she added.

  “They’re going to need to get better soon. Like, immediately,” I said.

  Her eyebrows arched. “Skylar, that’s unrealistic. My fellow Keepers are—”

  “—I know, I know,” I interrupted. “I don’t have much time, but let’s go sit for a few minutes. There’s a lot I have to tell you.”

  She closed her mouth and nodded.

  The three of us went to the room with the couches and the great chandelier overhead, the remnants of another, glitzier era when the Real World was all anyone had. After I’d said everything that needed saying, explained all the theories, the possibilities, the unknowns, my Keeper sat back and contemplated the information in silence. The weariness on her face seemed to deepen, but I could see her brain working behind those familiar eyes.

  When she leaned forward again, they were still working. “Skylar, I know what we should do. But I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I like,” I said. “Just tell me. Whatever it is.”

  “Why don’t you wait to hear what she’s thinking before you decide,” Kit warned.

  I shook my head. “If it’s something that could work, I don’t care what it is.”

  “I think your friend is right,” she said, eyeing me.

  And then she began to talk.

  By the time we arrived at Briarwood, it was the middle of the night. When the sun rose over the ocean in the morning, the fate of both worlds would be decided. But before then, all there was to do was wait, and I needed sleep—as much as I could manage. My body was near collapse, and from the look of it, so was Kit’s. I slid off the bike and was already headed inside, desperate for rest, dreading the thought of likely having to shift once more by tomorrow’s end.

  Kit hung back by his motorcycle. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Yes,” I said, without hesitation.

  But the second we passed through the doors I wasn’t so sure.

  Rain was waiting for us. He slipped into sight from around the corner, arms crossed, wide awake. He stood at the mouth of the entryway.

  How did he know of our arrival?

  Oh.

  My mother. Surely she sent a message informing him I would be on my way.

  And that I’d be accompanied.

  “Skylar,” he said with a nod.

  “Rain,” I replied, breath drawn in, poised to continue, when Lacy came around the corner, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine. A stab of jealousy burned through my rib cage, but it faded quickly.

  “I found the vintage you wanted,” she began, then abruptly stopped. “Oh!” she exclaimed when she saw us. Her gaze lowered to her hands and their contents guiltily. I could see her considering turning and going back the way she came.

  “Hi, Lacy,” I said. I suddenly wondered if Rain orchestrated this meeting of all of us without informing Lacy my arrival was imminent. If this was his plan, it only made me feel sad on Lacy’s behalf.

  “Hi, Skylar,” she said, her voice small and still uncertain.

  My gaze returned to Rain. “There’s a lot to be done.”

  “I know,” he said. “Trader was here. We met to discuss what you learned when you shifted.” His voice lacked emotion, but there was a storm in his eyes.

  I nodded. “My Keeper had an idea about how to handle informing everyone of what’s happening in the App World, even those resistant to the refugees.” I could feel Kit tense beside me. “And the influx of more, if our suspicions are right about its future.”

  “And . . . ?” Rain urged. “What was her idea?”

  My eyes returned to the glasses and wine in Lacy’s hands. “Let’s talk about it first thing in the morning at the meeting. You had other plans and I don’t want to interrupt.”

  Rain seemed as though he was preparing to contradict me, opening his mouth to protest, but he grew silent instead. “All right,” he said softly.

  “When I wake up I’ll go get Andleeb and Rasha and bring them here,” I told him. “We’ll need them too.”

  Kit still hadn’t spoken. He stood at my side, frozen and barely breathing. I couldn’t decide if this was because of sheer exhaustion or because he hated Rain and always would. “I’ll show you where you can sleep,” I told him now, making it obvious to everyone that it wouldn’t be in my room.

  The disappointment on Kit’s face was unmistakable, but quickly erased. “Okay,” he agreed.

  “Let’s go, Lacy,” Rain said.

  Lacy glanced at me, uncertain. I found myself wanting to reassure her that it was fine to be with him, but the circumstances prevented it.

  Later. Later I would.

  I made this silent promise to Lacy.

  “Good night,” I told them, and without further hesitation, I slipped past the two of them and Kit and I made our way silently down the hall to a room where he could stay the night.

  When he hesitated in the doorway, I spoke before he could say anything first.

  “Sleep well,” I said, and then hurried away.

  30

  Skylar

  risks of the heart

  SLEEP REFUSED TO come.

  I lay there in bed, my mind awhirl. Rather than thoughts of meetings and plans and the possibility that an entire world was dying and its virtual way of life with it, my thoughts were for Kit. That he was close. Just a few twists and turns away. All the questions I wanted to ask him, all the things I wanted to say, rose to the surface and inked themselves on my skin like tattoos.

  Kit’s tattoo.

  I wanted to see it. Needed to.

  Maggie’s belief about its meaning pulsed through me.

  I got out from under the covers and threw on a sweater. I didn’t even look in the mirror before I was out of my room and rushing through the darkness of the mansion, retracing my steps from earlier, the purpose of my route pulsing through me. I knocked on his door gently, the sound a soft thud. The click of a lock sounded and the door swung open before I could prepare myself.

  “You’re back,” Kit said. One of his hands rested high along the frame of the door, the other still gripped the handle.

  I fought the urge to step into his open arms. “Did I wake you?”

  “No,” he said, and stepped aside.

  A narrow bed, nearly too small for one person, was pressed against the wall with little room to maneuver around it. The window beside it was dark with the night. The one small lamp next to the bed was lit, but it barely gave off any light. Kit’s jac
ket and sweater were draped over a chair. He still wore his jeans and his arms were covered by his long-sleeved shirt.

  Kit shut the door behind him. He gestured at the bed. “Would you like to sit? Unless you’re not staying long?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. But I sat down anyway. I clasped my hands in my lap tightly.

  Kit walked the few steps between the door and the bed and joined me there, though he sat as far away along the edge as he could. The sheets and comforter were still pulled tight. He hadn’t even tried to sleep. “So, what’s keeping you up at night, Skylar? The Keeper’s idea? The prospect of further unrest in the Real World?” He paused. “The fact that Rain was drinking wine with another girl?”

  “All those things,” I said. “And also none of them.”

  Kit leaned against the headboard, and it creaked under his weight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  An image of Maggie made its way into my mind, the way she’d looked at me at the cottage. Her claims about Kit’s newest tattoo.

  “I met your sister,” I said.

  He immediately sat up, his back rigid. “Maggie? When?”

  “I went to your house,” I confessed. “You weren’t there, but I know where you keep the spare key and I decided to go inside. I surprised her.”

  “I bet you did.” Kit’s voice was quiet.

  “I decided I wanted to talk to you. So I went to the cottage,” I admitted.

  “You came to find me,” he whispered once more, as though he couldn’t believe this.

  “Twice now,” I confirmed. I was tired of hiding my feelings. Hiding served me no longer. “The first time to your house and the second to Trader’s.”

  “But I thought—”

  “—that I’d gone to find Trader?” I shook my head. “He told me you were there and gave me his keys. I went because of you.”

  The tension in Kit’s back eased. A look of relief washed over him. “You came to find me twice,” he repeated.

  “Maggie made me lunch.”