Hungry (22 page)

I stop pacing. “I need to ask you some questions first.”

“Look, Thalia,” Dad says, hunching close to the camera eye so my mother can’t interrupt. “I don’t care what you did. I don’t care that you ran away. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you, no questions asked. Maybe we can find a different rehab facility if you didn’t like that one. We’ll work it all out. I promise.”

“Honey,” Grandma Apple peeks over Dad’s shoulder. “Honey, please. Just tell us where you are.”

“Thal baby,” Papa Peter calls. I can make out only the top of his head behind Dad and Grandma. “I know there seems like a lot of hoo-ha going on and you might feel angry or scared or confused, and maybe the adults around you haven’t handled things correctly, but it’s time to come home now. You hear me?”

“First, I need to understand some things,” I tell them all. I look up into the night sky. It’s so dark out here away from the Inner Loops that I can see patterns in the stars. I try to connect the dots and form a picture as I talk. “I want to know more about the Universal Nutrition Protection Act and why One World arrested Ana and what happened to all the people at that meeting.…”

Mom shoves her way into the camera eye again. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because it affects people,” I say. “Because it affects me!”

“It doesn’t have to affect you!” she says. “If you would come back here and let us get you straightened out…”

“I don’t need straightening out,” I shout at her, then I try to calm down because I’m tired of fighting with my mother. I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to come home and go through rehab to
optimize my brain
so that I can go to more stupid ICMs and more stupid PlugIns and more stupid EntertainArenas. That’s just mindless fluff meant to keep the masses busy and happy.”

My dad presses his hand across his mouth and nods thoughtfully when I say this. I feel buoyed by his response and start pacing again as I talk. “If I come back now, then for the rest of my life I’ll have this feeling inside of me, gnawing away, never satisfied because I’ll know there’s a whole other part of the world that’s hidden from me.” I stop at the far end of the lot. “I need answers.”

“You’re right,” says Dad, which stops me. “There’s so much more to this world than you likely know. We’ve probably sheltered you too much. But we did it because the truths are ugly and none of us wants to relive them. Your grandparents and your mother and I worked very hard to make a world we wish we had when we were your age. A place that’s safe from war and starvation and all the other horrible things human beings are capable of when resources are scarce.”

“You can say what you want about One World,” Mom says, pushing Dad aside. “But at the end of the day, we’re keeping everybody alive. And as a privileged person on this Earth, you have an obligation to contribute to that system.”

“Not if I don’t agree with it,” I tell her.

Grandma Apple squishes in front of my mother and father. “You don’t have to agree with everything, but you can work for change from the inside.”

“Let me talk to her,” another voice commands. My family parts and I see Ahimsa march across our living room. She leans down to the camera, her black eyes fierce with anger. “I don’t know what kind of lies that boy you’ve taken up with has been feeding you, but you have no idea who these corporate resisters are and what they’re capable of. Ana Gignot is a lunatic. She’s endangering the lives of others with her delusions. The longer you stay out there, the deeper your trouble. But it’s not just you. Eventually your behavior could have a negative impact on your parents’ position at One World. There’s only so long I can protect all of you.” She stands up and backs slowly away from the camera, never taking her eyes off my face.

Her words feel like a kick to my chest. I watch as my mom and dad and my grandparents swarm around the camera eye again. Of course I don’t want to hurt them, but the thought of going back to Dr. Demeter’s dome or Basil winding up in prison makes my blood run cold. “Will you promise not to send me back to rehab if I come home?”

My dad starts to nod but my mom says, “We can discuss what kind of treatment you’ll get.”

“And what about Ba—I mean the boy?” I ask.

Ahimsa steps forward again. “We cannot and will not protect a corporate resister.”

Across the parking lot, Fiyo’s door swings open. “She’s ready for you!” Yaz calls into the night.

“Who is that?” Dad squints at the screen. “Where are you?”

“I have to go,” I tell my family.

“Don’t hang up.…” Dad says.

“Good-bye,” I say.

Before I disconnect, I hear my mother roar, “Find her, Max!”

“I can’t,” Dad says. I kill the video but keep the audio connection and press my ear against the speaker again. “She figured out how to block the locator.”

“For god’s sake! You’re the head of One World programming and the chief security officer. Find a way in,” my mother insists.

“Search the video feed,” Ahimsa tells him. “There’s bound to be a landmark or a clue.”

Quickly I end the call and run for Fiyo’s door, knowing it’s only a matter of time before we’re traced.

*   *   *

Fiyo steps back from Basil. “Now we wait,” she says.

As far as I can tell, Basil doesn’t look all that different yet.

“It takes more time for the skin and hair serums to work.” She studies Basil for another moment. “Unless of course, you really want to change it up. Add a little of this.” She caresses herself from breasts to hips. “It’s my latest endeavor. Temporary estrogen. Lasts five weeks.”

Basil shrinks in his chair. “No thanks.”

“Don’t worry.” Fiyo winks and laughs. “I’ve still got the other equipment, too.”

Basil comes close and blinks at me with his newly blue eyes. “Everything okay?” he asks. When I hear his voice, that cold, kicked-in-the-gut feeling I had in the parking lot subsides. For a moment I feel warm and safe, like I’ve curled up beneath one of my grandmother’s hand-knit blankets. “Do I look weird?” he asks.

“No,” I whisper and take his hand.

“Good,” he says as he intertwines his fingers in mine like he did at the Analog meeting. I feel like I never want to let go. “I was afraid…” He stops.

“Of what?”

“Nothing,” he says and brings my knuckles to his lips then kisses them gently.

Fiyo turns to me. “You ready?”

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. “Yes, I am.”

*   *   *

Fiyo moves Basil to a small recovery room with a bed and soft music. Within seconds we hear loud snores, which makes Fiyo chuckle. “Poor guy, he’s exhausted.” She leads me to the black reclining chair. “Then again, it’s hard work running from the Man.”

“You should know,” says Yaz.

Fiyo gives her a sidelong glance then grins.

“Really?” I ask. “Are they after you, too?”

“One World can’t stand true competition.” Fiyo flips through a rotating caddy of different serums then holds up a little vial, squints at me, and puts it back. “They try to claim I’m poaching from them, but I make all my own juice. I even hold a few patents. They’re the ones always snooping around here. Sending in their
researchers
posing as customers, trying to see what I’m doing. But I can spot those nanobrains a mile away with their cruddy One World dewrinklers and slightly off skin tones. Ugh.” She shakes her head in disgust. “If anything I should be suing their asses for making people look so damn fugly.” She looks from Yaz to me and grins. “But who has that kind of money?” She goes back to her search then holds a vial up to the light and smiles. “Ah, perfect.”

*   *   *

“Thalia, Thalia, wake up. Hey, wakey wakey.” Yaz shakes me gently. I blink a few times and open my eyes, confused for a moment about where I am. Then I recognize Fiyo’s treatment room, even though the lights are turned low.

“Oh, sorry,” I say through a yawn and rustle under the soft blanket someone has put over me. “Did I fall asleep?”

Yaz stares at me and smiles. “For, like, an hour.”

“An hour! Oh, no. We need to go,” I say, sitting up so quickly my head spins.

“It’s okay,” Yaz says, putting a hand on my shoulder, and staring at me. “We’re done.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is Sleeping Beauty up?” Fiyo calls from the other room.

“Yes,” Yaz calls back, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me.

“What?” I demand.

“You are not going to believe it.” She laughs.

Fiyo strides into the room and raises the lights. “Hmm,” she says circling me. “Color’s even.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “Skin looks natural,” she touches my cheek. “Eyes are balanced.” She stands back and nods. “You may now officially call me a genius!”

“What? Let me see,” I insist anxiously.

Fiyo helps me from the chair and leads me to the center of the room. “Stand here while I get Romeo. Cover her eyes,” she tells Yaz.

“Oh, come on,” I protest when Yaz wraps her hands around my face. “This is silly!” But I have to admit it’s kind of exciting. I have no idea what to expect. “Do I look totally bizarre?”

“Amazing,” is all Yaz says.

I hear Fiyo in the other room waking Basil and leading him toward me.

“Is this necessary?” Basil asks.

“No, only possible. Now, on the count of three,” says Fiyo. “One … two … three!”

Yaz pulls her hand away.

The person across from me and I stare at one another, our mouths agape. If it weren’t for the clothing, I would have no idea who that blonde-haired, blue-eyed, pale boy is.

“Do I look ridiculous?” the boy with Basil’s voice asks.

“Do I?” I ask him back because of the way he’s staring at me.

“Mirrors!” Fiyo shouts happily, and the screen behind Basil shifts from its continuous channel surfing to our reflection.

Basil turns. We stand side by side, staring at the mirror, trying to find ourselves in the strange boy and the girl in my clothes but with darker skin, short pink hair, and emerald green irises, who stares back.

“You look like a Klub Kid,” Yaz says with a laugh.

“And he looks like a Scando boy,” Fiyo says. “I might have to go for that look soon.”

Basil and I glance shyly at one another, but suddenly I’m filled with doubt. Is this the same person who captivated me that first night at Flav-O-Rite when we sat with our thighs nearly pressed together, inhaling the scents of food? The one who held my hand at the Analog meeting and kissed me under the stars? I close my eyes because I can’t look at that boy beside me without apprehension filling my belly, but then Basil begins to talk. I keep my eyes closed and I listen.

“How bizarre,” he says. “To walk in here one person and walk out another.” His voice sends a little chill of recognition up my spine. With my eyes still closed, I inch closer to him and breathe deeply, trying to pull in his smell. “It’s like starting over.” He grabs my hand. “But with you.”

His skin on my skin sends a warm rush over me. I open my eyes and see Basil staring at me through that other boy’s eyes. Then he shakes his hair away from his face and smiles that familiar smile, which starts my heart pounding. My mother says my feelings aren’t real. Nothing more than chemicals surging through my brain. She sees it all as a giant chemistry equation meant to regulate some primal urge that physically attracts one person to another. But she doesn’t understand that I don’t need to be in the Procreation Pool to fall in love. What’s clear to me tonight is that what I feel for Basil is something so much stronger and deeper than her inocs can control.

*   *   *

To make sure we’re completely disguised, Basil and I decide to change our clothes. Yaz and I trade my soft denim jeans and worn-in boots for her slick orange minidress and clunky trainers with their springy soles. Fiyo lends me a pair of silver Teflon leggings and a fuzzy green sweater to keep me warm. The only thing of mine that’s left on me is the red knit pouch on my hip holding my cloaked Gizmo. Fiyo has leant Basil a pair of black trousers and a red padded jacket from her closet of men’s clothing.

When we emerge from the changing areas, we find Fiyo busily cleaning up empty vials, spent syringes, and clippings of our hair as the screen continues to flip through channels. PRCs, historical docudramas, archived nature shows, and fifteen-second comedy blasts blip past. A newsfeed with the headline “Breaking News!” catches my eye. Just before it switches to a personal transformation story, I think I see my parents.

“Go back!” I command.

On the screen, my parents and Ahimsa stand beneath hologram magnolia blossoms in front of our house. Mom and Dad look worn and worried with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Then my picture, pre-Fiyo, fills the wall with the words, “$10,000 Reward for any Information Leading to the Return of Thalia Apple” scrolling across the bottom.

“Sound on!” I command.

“… she was targeted by corporate resisters in retaliation for the arrest of Ana Gignot,” Ahimsa says.

“Liar!” I mutter.

Next, a blurry photo of Basil, taken either from the footage at the Analog meeting or the EA comes on-screen. “The man who abducted her is a leader in the underground corporate-resistance movement and could be armed and is definitely dangerous,” she adds.

“We just want our daughter back,” my mother says. “Please, if you have any information…” She trails off and wipes a nonexistent tear from her eye.

The picture switches to old footage of Spinach putting Ana in the One World security van as the reporter explains, “Ms. Gignon and nearly one hundred of her followers are being held at a South Loop security facility.” A shot of a prison fills the screen.

I turn to Basil. Despite his light eyes and pale skin, he still smolders when he’s furious. “Those bastards!” he spits. “They arrested every single one of them.”

I look back to the screen, but the two minutes of news has been replaced by a Hedgy promo with the words “Escape into Another World” floating over images of automatonic animals hopping through a verdant hedgerow. “Well, that’s ironic,” Yaz mumbles.

“What are we going do?” I ask Basil.

He’s too furious to talk.

“We have to do something,” I say. “One World is lying about me, and they’re holding innocent people. I can’t believe they’d go to this much trouble just to shut Ana up!”