by Taya DeVere
***
This time, she turns on the video. Hands folded behind her back, the wind blowing her white lab coat, Laura Solomon stands in the middle of an empty courtyard with yellow grass and dandelions. A field with yellow flowers rises behind her. The camera doesn’t show any more of the view than that, but Dennis knows the scenery by heart. He’s worked with Doctor Solomon long enough to know she prefers to stay at the headquarters; the Chip-Center in City of Finland.
“What else did Nurse Saarinen say?” he asks, mostly to give himself something else to think about other than the faint wrinkles around Laura’s mesmerizing green eyes. The dark smudges under her eyes tells a tale of sleepless nights. It must be challenging to rest when the whole world’s well-being is in your hands.
“Oh, not much else. Iris is in charge of the tracking.”
“Iris and what army?”
“Exactly that. Don’t underestimate the purple city, my dear.” Laura looks straight at Dennis. “They’ve tracked them down before.”
“I know the girl is good. And that they’ve done this before. But can she do it without the Unchipped hacker’s help? It’s not just Margaret we’ve lost, Laura.”
The woman winces when Dennis calls her by her first name—and her first name only. Only Solomon’s right-hand Nurse Saarinen is known to do so. Nurse Saarinen—and Solomon’s vanished mother.
Dennis is lucky. She decides to let it slide. “Luna Novak.”
“Yes, her. Before the hacker-girl, Iris was always one step behind the rebels.”
“I remember.” Doctor Solomon opens her mouth to add something but then decides against it.
Dennis gets up from his gaming chair and circles the fake fire that is always blazing—day or night.
“Laura, I hate to sound like a broken record. But isn’t it time we move forward? It would be so easy. There are plenty of Chipped who travel with our little crew.”
“I know this, dear.”
“So, you agree? It is an option?”
“Agreed. It is an option.”
“And a good one too,” Dennis says. “In fact, I don’t see why we wouldn’t just pull the trigger. These underdogs have caused enough trouble for all of us, don’t you think?”
“Hm.”
Dennis wants to push the matter further, but he knows it’s not wise. Laura Solomon is the kind of person whose silence has more power than her words. When she talks, her words always have a purpose. When she falls silent, her silence is for a reason.
Finally, Solomon turns and starts toward the Chip-Center’s back door. “Let me think this through. There’s someone there. With them.”
“The hacker? Who?”
“No, someone—important. Too important for me to lose.”
Who is she talking about? Laura wouldn’t care about Kaarina, or Luna the hacker, or any of the chipless kids that ran away from Kinship Care. And in her eyes, the Chipped lost all their value when they fled Laura’s city to join the Unchipped rebels. Who would she care about? Enough to hesitate to destroy her enemy?
“Happy birthday, Dennis.” She opens the door and walks into a softly glowing blue corridor. Before she clicks off the connection, Laura says, “Now go have some cake.”
***
One of the brown bottles lies on the bar table on its side. The hundred-dollar bill is scrunched into a paper ball. The woman sits pouting, her arms crossed on her full bosom.
Dennis smiles at the girl, who now shows her true age. Nothing has changed in her looks, but her face shows the expression of a young girl, having trouble coping with failure. She hasn’t found a way to balance the bottle on top of the note, but she has tried. The spilled beer and slightly damaged money tells the tale.
“No luck then, doll?”
Her eyes drill into him, narrowing with frustration. “I already know you are ancient. I’m already loaded, just like everyone else in this crappy city. Whatever.”
Nineteen? Eighteen? he thinks but doesn’t ask. They wouldn’t let underage users enter the SIM-dating platform. Would they? Dennis feels bad for the girl. Why is she wasting her youth on this? It’s different for him—a lonely fifty-five-year-old man. He already has all he needs. Power, money, knowledge. This girl should be out there working on her future, not trying to lure old men into supporting her.
Dennis smiles at her. “Aww, chin up, doll. Nobody gets it the first time.”
He takes the paper ball that is his hundred-dollar bill and smooths its surface against his thigh. Once the note is flat again, he starts folding its long edge, inch after inch. The note takes the shape of an accordion. He places it on top of the two beer bottles, like a bridge. Carefully, he balances the third bottle on top of the bridge. Then he lets go. The bottle stands on top.
The girl scoffs and looks away. “Whatever. That’s a lame trick. And who buys a girl a beer anyway?”
Too distracted by the news Laura has brought him, Dennis doesn’t reply. The girl stares at the beer bottle, sitting on top of the bill. For a while, they’re both lost in their own thoughts.
Solomon must have a reason for not using the override protocol. It’s long overdue, especially after the financial hit they took in City of England when project Kinship went down. After the cruise ship in the port at City of Serbia got away, with a crew of rebels that not only stole a CS-key from the Chip-Center, but one of the capsuled test subjects as well. But most of all, the rebels had somehow managed to wipe out a fortune in CC’s from numerous Chip-Charity accounts. Kaarina, William, and their following were all supposed to die. Out there, without them having to spend any more city resources or funding. Gunned down on the street, starved to death, torn apart by wildlife… the odds were never in their favor. But now, the Unchipped have turned the city’s own against them. And not just anybody, but one of the founders. A mastermind like Margaret.
Why isn’t Laura taking action already?
“Okay, old man. You’re starting to act like a train wreck here. And I’m not sure I’m your station.”
Dennis looks up, surprised. Too bad she’s so young. The girl’s got some spunk after all. Her gaze starts to wander curiously around the SIM-bar, but Dennis fails to care. He can’t let go of the mystery that is Laura Solomon’s mind. He rubs his face, suddenly tired of playing these games. A long exhale escapes his lips. “What could be so important…” he mumbles.
Orange-lips tilts her head, refocusing on the man sitting in front of her. “What’s that?”
Dennis drops his hands onto his lap and shrugs. “Let’s say you are the world’s most powerful woman,” he says. The girl’s chin rises an inch. Her young arrogance likes this game. “And you could fix a problem by pressing a button. One click and boom, you’re back on track. Ruling the world. Saving humanity.”
“But?”
“But something’s holding you back. Not something—someone. You want to protect them more than anything else. So, who are you protecting?”
“Am I married?”
“Single. Married to your career.”
“Do I have friends?”
Dennis considers this. Is he Laura’s friend? She did call him on his birthday. Gave him a present. She remembered his likes and habits. Called him ‘Texas.’ Is that what friends do?
“Well?”
“No, you don’t have any friends. Only colleagues and employees.”
“But I have someone out there that I need to protect?”
Dennis nods. “Yes. But who?”
Her orange lips turn into a half-smile. “Well, that’s easy. Any woman, no matter how powerful or isolated, will always protect her children.”
Dennis’s head snaps back. Children? Laura’s?
“That’s highly unlikely. Remember, you’re not married.”
The girl leans back in her chair and laughs wholeheartedly. “Who is, these days? It doesn’t mean children don’t happen. Made in the lab or not, a kid is a kid. Your blood, flesh, and DNA.”
The lab. The Nursery-Center. The puzzle
pieces click together while Dennis stares at his companion in shock. Laura Solomon has a child. A daughter or a son. Traveling with the rebels.
He stands up and takes the beer bottle down, sets it on the table. This girl is smart, even if she acts like a brainless maneater. And the way people will underestimate her because of her dumb blond effect could be quite useful to him. Maybe he could save her? Make something out of her? He hands the folded note to the girl and nods. “Send over your CC-account information, doll. You just earned yourself a butt-load of funds and a job.”
She takes the hundred-dollar bill, taps on her AR-glasses, swipes the air, and then looks at Dennis. “A job, huh?” She gets up and fixes her short dress, nodding at the toilet door in the distance. “Is that what your generation calls it?”
Without leaving the scene, Dennis accesses his account and sends a thousand CC’s to the account number he just received. Then he reaches for his glasses, suddenly wide awake.
“We need to track a kid. First thing tomorrow morning.”
“A kid?”
“I’ll have my people send you the address. Take the elevator to the fifteenth floor. Eight a.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”
“And which apartment is it?”
“The only one on that floor. You can’t miss it.”
“And who do I ask for? An old man who likes to trick eighteen-year-old girls and buy them beer?”
Eighteen. Christ. He really dodged a bullet there.
“Sure. Ask for a man who’d rather see that eighteen-year-old kid work to save the world. Instead of spending her time at SIM-bars trying to earn a quick buck.”
Something dark passes across her face. Embarrassment? Regret? Then she stands up, nods at Dennis. “I’ll be there. Eight a.m..”
“Good. And to answer your question, ask for Dennis Jenkins.” He lifts his hand to leave the bar. “But my friends call me Texas.”
***
5
THE RESORT
March 2089
Iceland
CHAPTER 1 — KAARINA
The cold breeze plays with the silk curtains. Cool air pushes its way across the hotel room, sending goosebumps over Kaarina’s naked body. Weeks, almost a month. That’s how long it’s been since she stepped off the cruise ship and got to sleep on solid ground again. No more seasickness. No more restless nights, filled with nightmares of drowning. Or that’s what she had thought. Here she lies, though, wide awake and anxious again. True, the bed in the hotel is as steady and sturdy as it should be, but each time she closes her eyes, the mattress starts swaying.
A faint nickering sound reaches Kaarina’s ears through the open window. The lamp in the courtyard casts its light onto the wall, a bright spot surrounded by the long shadows of the silk curtains. She picked the room right beside the resort’s horse stables. Not that the horses live in the stalls anymore. They moved out of the barnyard a long time ago. But now they hear people again. The clanking of pots and plates while breakfast is being made. Kids running around the pool deck. People walking on the paths between the hotel and the small village with its endless cottages. Just like other wild animals, like rabbits, minks, and reindeer, the horses now come around, looking for carrots and oats and flakes of hay. Kaarina gives them what she can find, though most of the grain sacks and hay bales in the storage room are covered in mold.
The mattress squeaks under her weight. The man next to her turns on his side but doesn’t wake up. His back and buttocks are only partly covered by a thin white sheet. A murmur. Grunting. He’s sound asleep, utterly oblivious to both Kaarina’s muddled state of mind and their agreement. He’s supposed to sneak out and return to his own room—right after. Maybe it was just an accident that he fell asleep. Or maybe he chose to forget their agreement, just as Kaarina now pretends to be bothered by the fact that he’s still here.
Carefully, one leg at a time, she gets out of bed. She reaches down to the floor for the three-sizes-too-large bathrobe. Her footsteps soft and cautious, Kaarina walks to the open window and sits on the writing desk right underneath. The fresh air helps with her ghostly seasickness, but it also keeps her awake at night. She leans out the window, trying to take a peek at the barnyard. A shadow moves in the night, hoof steps echoing on the concrete in front of the outdoor stalls.
It should feel like home. This. The horses. A solid, normal bed. People. A community. It should feel like winning a war—against all odds.
They’ve escaped. Again.
They’ve outsmarted the Chipped. Again.
Kaarina should be happy-dancing. Grinning. Beaming. Or like they said back when religion was still a thing, and people believed in gods and spirits instead of rabbits’ feet and sacred rocks:
I should count my blessings.
But none of that has happened. No happily leaping around her safe new home. No laughter by the poolside, hugging her new family members. Her friends and allies. No, instead, she’s fallen into a self-destructive pattern; moping and snapping. Lashing out. Sneaking around in the night. With a man who could do so much better. Not that she’d ever tell him that. He doesn’t need to know she cares.
She pulls the window shut, leaving the wild horses to their treasure hunt. Her bare feet slapping against the floor, she makes her way to a hefty gaming chair at the furthest corner of the room. A chair for the Chipped. Something she’s seen in the cities; a throne. One that doesn’t belong to Kaarina, but her enemy. Regardless of whether she’s won the war or not.
But has she won? Really? Fleeing and escaping is hardly winning. People look at her and see a fearless rebel leader.
All she sees is a coward.
Kaarina sits down, her fingers trailing along the gaming chair’s soft leather. Her gaze scans the room, skipping the naked, snoring man. She stares at her backpack under the bed. A laptop and a memory stick rest inside. Forgotten. Seemingly useless. Just like Kaarina and the people she’s brought to live with her here in a remote, abandoned Chipped resort.
“You can’t get away with this…” Her whisper hisses in the dark room. As she closes her eyes, the images flash through her tired mind.
Friendly but piercing eyes.
A sincere-looking but deceptive smile.
A face, an expression that says, “Let me help. You’re nothing without me.”
A white lab coat, floating in the wind by a stone wall with carvings.
A pair of sensible shoes, thumping against the ground of Kaarina’s home country—a place she can never return to.
“You won’t get away,” she whisper-hisses again. “Because I won’t let you.” Her nails dig into the armrests, damaging the elegant leather. “I’ll stop you, Laura Solomon. If it’s the last thing I do.”
***
Fiddling and poking at the empty hay nets, the bay horse moves closer across the barnyard. Kaarina wrinkles a wrapper in her hand; a soft peppermint candy. Her eyes follow the gelding’s every movement. She takes deep breaths, inhaling the heady smell of moldy hay, shavings, and manure. She can’t help but close her eyes, still crinkling the candy wrapper in her hand.
Here, with eyes shut and no one around, Kaarina feels at home. Like she never left the hayloft in a horse barn by the suburbs, near City of Finland’s blue lights and high stone walls. A city where her mother’s house still stands, as does her old apartment. Those homes are now occupied by Finns whose brains had accepted Solomon’s computer chip and integrated with her program. Those rooms are not for a girl like Kaarina, with a malfunctioning chip and enough bad luck for a lifetime.
Back there, her life no longer exists. The horses, cats, deer, and raccoon-dogs. Kaarina used to be one of them. A creature of the forest. An animal, at ease with the fact that the world had come to its end. All was well.
But then, the what-if games became an everyday thing. What if she could be a part of Laura Solomon’s new world after all? What if she could do better?
And then, Laura Solomon had promised her a quick fix, doubling her lust and curiosity for the
life that had been denied her. Growing her false need for more. Her greed. A desire for something convenient, maybe even luxury. A new life in the city. She had wanted to belong, to be part of a community. And Solomon had read her mind, understanding her almost as well as one of the Unchipped would have. “Feed me!” Kaarina had screamed, without ever opening her mouth. “Accept me as one of you! Teach me to fly!”
The peppermint digs into her palm as Kaarina makes a fist. Tears of rage push through her closed eyelids. If only she hadn’t listened… If she had realized sooner what Solomon and the Happiness-Program were all about, she could have simply left the suburbs of the blue city without drawing any attention to herself. But no. Now, she and her little clan of rebels are on the Solomon Foundation’s most wanted list. Then again, if events had played out differently, she might never have met these people—her friends—and some of them would surely be in stasis capsules by now.
Something soft nudges her white-knuckled fist. Kaarina opens her eyes. A smooth muzzle pushes against her hand, whiskers ticking the back of her palm. She fingers the candy wrapper open and lays the treat in the middle of her open palm. A big, soft lip takes the treat.
“Good fella,” she whispers. A short laugh escapes her throat. She extends her hand and pets the long, fluffed hair on the horse’s neck. “My name is Kaarina,” she mumbles to her new friend. Then she shakes her head. “But who needs names anyway. You, my friend… you’re too good to be labeled like that. You don’t need a name. You’re free. No locked stall doors for you. No window bars. You’ll never wear another halter or bridle. You go as you please…”
“Sorry to interrupt. But can a William join this Anarchists Anonymous meeting?”
Kaarina can’t see Bill, but she senses him tapping her from somewhere nearby. He probably doesn’t want to startle Kaarina’s new equine friend.
Don’t walk straight behind him. Let him know you’re coming. No sudden movements, either.
A low chuckle, somewhere behind Kaarina’s back. With steady, calm steps Bill approaches the horse. He extends his hand and caresses the long, tangled mane. “Whoa. She’s something else.”
