Mind Games (11 page)

‘Luna?’ It’s Sally. She’s opened the door now, and the hall light floods my room. Her face is white.

I sit up in a rush. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m so sorry, Luna.’ And her face and her voice
are
sorry, genuinely so, and there is no one else here to make a performance worthwhile.

‘What? What’s happened?’

‘It’s your nanna. She…’ Her voice trails away, and she shakes her head.

Then I’m up and running down the hall; the door to Nanna’s room is open. The doctor is there, but he’s standing back, and Dad is there, too, and he’s holding her hand. Nanna’s hand.

‘What’s happened?’

Sally follows in behind. She puts an arm over my shoulders, and for once I don’t pull away. ‘She died in her sleep. The medic alarm woke me and brought the doctor, and I got your dad. He wanted a moment before we woke you.’

No
. It can’t be. Can it? And I’m next to Dad, next to Nanna. Her face is calm, peaceful. Her eyes are closed.

‘She’s just asleep, isn’t she? Dad?’

He shakes his head.

20

There is a blur of days that lead to this one. People are talking, saying nice things. Not many people, though. Not many watch as the coffin goes into the back of the crematorium; friends she had years ago have long deserted. I’m touched that Melrose is here, her father also. This couldn’t do him any good if anyone notices.

After, Sally steers us away, back home. For once I appreciate how good she is at organising us. That she’s somehow even bossed Dad into staying in reality for so long.

Rachel from school visits, and I’m surprised: REs don’t get out much. And then I think about it some more, and I’m not surprised. People dying is kind of her thing – trying to make you feel there is a reason for it, or to make you feel better. It isn’t working, exactly, but it’s nice that she tries.

Religious beliefs are irrational by definition: not subject to proof. Freedom of religion is protected by NUN, but Religious Exemptions like Rachel are marginalised, their lives limited so they can’t infect others with their views, with the conflict and wars that always follow when religion dominates society. These are all things we’ve been taught, but sometimes it feels like Rachel has a secret, one I’d like to share. If it made this feel any better, it’d be worth it.

Something inside
yearns
. For what? For infinity: for things that go on and on, forever.

Late that night, I pull my hair up in the silver clip from the void. While I plug in I
hope, hope, hope
that the hatch will be there, that I can climb up.

In my hallway there is no invitation from Astra Remembered this time, but I look up, and
there
: silver is reaching across. It doesn’t start with an outline like before, more a stream of silver that rushes across to form a hatch. It opens, and a ladder drops down. I climb up, and step into nothingness.

There is no silver message from Gecko like before. The hatch vanishes, and I’m alone in the dark emptiness of the void. The twinkling blur of static lights rushes past in all directions; the strange wind is as before – at times fierce, at times gentle, changing direction. I lie down and stare upwards.

Rachel said she’d pray for Nanna’s soul. That life is fleeting, but her soul is forever. I sigh. I see life more as one of these bright lights, shooting in a brief flare across infinite space and darkness.

Rachel also said I should remember Nanna as she was, not the way her illness changed her. But it’s hard. For a long time she’s not been the woman who was everything to me – mother, father, friend – after Astra died. Dad was even more useless then than he is now. Astra’s death really derailed him to the point I’m not sure he even knew I existed. Nanna’s illness seemed to come so gradually, so bit by bit that it crept up on me without my noticing, until suddenly it was a giant, overwhelming thing. So when did it start, really? Were all her warnings to me about not letting anyone know how I was different, not getting an Implant, not telling anyone how plugging in made me sick – did that start before she was ill, or was it part of the delusions that came after? And how about her obsession with numbers – was that part of her illness, too?

And here I am. Plugged in, not sick. A few ANDs was all it would have taken to make me like everybody else. All the things I missed with friends, school. She was terrified about me taking the Test, but I did fine – nothing bad happened from taking it, did it?

But one thing I
do
know: even if it was part of her delusions, she always loved me. Whatever she did, she did because she thought she was keeping me safe, that she was protecting me. Even if the monsters were all in her mind, to her, they were real.

A particularly bright light rushes towards me. Without thinking I reach up, grab it in my hands. I cup them around it: it pulses silver inside.
Goodbye, Nanna
, I whisper, and throw it into the sky. It turns into a star. A falling star that streaks across the sky, then is gone.

Spine spiders creep across my back. Did I really just do
that
?

I’ve barely thought of that dream with my mother, with everything that followed when I woke from it. Is that what
really
drew me out here now? I close my eyes and try to put myself
back, back
. Into that feeling of joy, warmth, security. And playfulness, too. The lights: she gathered them together into her arms, threw them at me. When I released them they became what I wanted, like the star I just threw into the void.

I stand up. Feeling foolish, I hold my arms out wide like Astra did, and try to scoop the lights towards me. It doesn’t work.

I try to grab just one light in my hands like I did before. But now that I’m thinking about it, it isn’t working. Overactive imagination, that’s what I have. I probably drifted off and dreamed the whole thing.

The vast darkness and the lights whistling past are starting to creep me out. Time to unplug? But although I don’t really want to go back, I don’t want to be alone, either.

Where is Gecko? He said goodbye; is he really gone? He can’t be; he must have put the hatch and ladder there so I could get into the void. I wish for him, and as if he is reading my mind, a silver arrow appears at my feet.

I smile, follow along until it stops. A sheet of silver rushes across and solidifies, forming a door. I open it, and step through.

The square room is like the last time – darkness defined by silver pulses of light. But it is empty. No Gecko. I bite my lip in disappointment. Why’d he bring me here if he isn’t here himself? I’ve barely formed the thought when he appears next to me.

His eyes are wide in shock. ‘Luna? How’d you get here?’

‘I followed the arrow. Same as last time.’

‘What?’ He shakes his head. ‘I don’t understand. Though I
was
thinking of you. Did I lay a trace without doing it on purpose?’ He shakes his head. ‘If I did, I’m more addled than I thought. And how did you leave the last time you were here?’

‘No biggie. I just unplugged.’

‘That should be impossible. How’d you even still have connection to your body through the void?’

I shrug, uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I just
do
,’ I say, and then my mind skips back to what he said before. ‘Addled? What’s wrong?’

‘They found me.’

‘Who did?’

‘PareCo, of course. They’ve got me in a locked house prior to transport to Inaccessible Island. I can’t get out.’

‘What? But that’s illegal.’

He laughs: not a happy sound. ‘What planet do you live on? Don’t answer that. As you’re here, I’ve got something to tell you. It’s important.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I found Danny.’

‘So he’s OK, then.’

‘No. He’s not. He died of STDS – Sudden Teenage Death Syndrome.’

‘
What?
Seriously?’ I stare at him in shock.

‘I’m afraid so. Somehow they must have worked out he could see through the Implant simulation.’

‘Wait a minute. You must be wrong. A girl died of STDS at my school last year: they only call it that when somebody spontaneously dies when they’re plugged in, and they don’t know why. So there is no discernible cause of death.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Usually. But this is PareCo we’re talking about. They could fake it. But that’s not all.’

I turn away, afraid to hear any more.

‘I looked into Jezzamine and Danny to see if they had anything in common, anything I could have missed. Hacked into shopping records, and there it was: both of them regularly bought ANDs.’

Danny I didn’t know well, but
Jezzamine
? She was a girl who did not like to be different; at least, not like that. She’d have hidden that secret to the grave. A sense of disquiet prickles inside:
she did
.

I shake my head. ‘But what has that got to with anything?’

‘I don’t know. It must be something about needing ANDs to plug in that affects how you perceive things with your Implant, and whether they can plant blocks to stop you from talking about it. Haven’t worked out what it is yet.’

‘But I haven’t got an Implant.’

‘Don’t get one, Luna. If you do – don’t let anyone know you use ANDs. Have you bought them on credit?’

‘No. Cash only, but—’

‘Just buy them from different places, different times – don’t establish a pattern, right? Then hope they don’t find out.’

‘Who is this
they
? Why does it matter?’

‘Luna, listen to me. Your life could be in danger.’

I fight the tears, and the fear. Nanna, Jezzamine and Danny: three deaths in such a short time. Nanna whispers in my mind:
Three are the triangles: mind, body, soul; past, present, future
. But none of them has a future. Not any more.

I’m shaking my head, pulling away from his warm hand on my arm. I don’t want to hear what he is saying; I don’t want to even be
here. A whole long list of
too much to handle
is crashing in on me.

And I run. Straight through the silver-etched wall of his room – it parts to let me through and out into the void. I hear a few shouts behind but they fade and vanish.

I run blindly. What is it with me? First Nanna has delusions; now Gecko? Maybe I really do bring out the crazy in people. He can’t be right;
he can’t be
. And he said that they found him, that they locked him up to force him to take that placement, but
why
would they do that? What would be the point of an uncooperative employee, anyhow?

I’m running so fast there is a streak of light around me – my legs, my arms – a silver blur.

Why am I running? There’s an easier way out of here. I stop. The silver lights are still all around me, almost like they are clinging to my skin. Now
I’m
the crazy one. I breathe in and out, try to calm the panic. Back in my bedroom I reach to unplug, and slip out of the neural net.

I sit up in the PIP in my dark room, heart still thudding as if I really had been running. Clothes sticking to my skin.

I get up, open the curtains, the window, and lean out and breathe deeply, trying to calm down. It’s a clear night. Silver traces from the stars above seem to cling to the air around me, the skin on my hands and arms. I pull back from the window and slam it shut.

Now
I’m
the one with delusions.

Wide awake, I wander downstairs. Put the kettle on. There is an elaborate bunch of white flowers in a vase on the kitchen table – lilies and roses. They weren’t here earlier, were they? Beautiful, but something about lilies leaves me cold, and the roses’ perfume hangs too heavy in this confined space. It catches in my throat. A card sticks out, unopened, and I look closer. It’s got my name on it?

I frown. Who could have sent them? I reach for the card, then curse when I catch my finger on a thorn. A drop of blood smears on the envelope when I open it, and I try to rub it off, then suck on my finger.

More lilies on the card. It says the usual
Sympathy for your loss
, and is signed – by Dr Rafferty. And inside the card is a folded sheet of paper.

I unfold it and scan the printed words quickly, but can’t seem to take them in. Then I read slower, but still the words jumble and dance.

Until two jump out stark and clear:
Changed circumstances
.

I needed the transfer to London University because of my grandmother’s illness. No grandmother, no transfer.

We agreed to that, didn’t we? And Dad signed the form.

I’m going to Inaccessible Island.

Tomorrow night.

21

Sally being nice is pushing me over the edge.

I finally snap when she insists she must refold my clothes neater in my suitcase so more will fit. ‘Stop fussing! I’ve got plenty. It says they’ll provide clothes anyhow, so I shouldn’t need that much stuff.’

She folds her arms. ‘Fine. Just trying to help,’ she says, and stomps off.

Dad gives me a look, and I sigh. ‘I know, I know. I’ll apologise before I go.’

I shut the case, zip it up. The real reason for not wanting a complete refold in her war against wrinkled clothing? The ANDs tucked away in odd corners of my case. There are more in my bag: who knows if they’ll be accessible on Inaccessible Island. And who knows what Sally’d make of
them
. Or is it Gecko’s warnings echoing in my ears that make me want to keep it secret?

‘Wish you didn’t have to go so soon,’ Dad says.

‘I know. Me, too.’

‘I’ve got something I want you to have.’ He reaches into a pocket, and takes out a silver necklace. ‘It was your mother’s.’

I hesitate, then take it, wanting to cradle it close and push it away at the same time. The cool, slippery feel of the beads in my fingers brings a rush of memories. She always wore it. She’d let me play with it, get me to count the interlocking silver beads, and trace their intricate patterns. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course. She always said she wanted you to have it, to give it to you when you were older if anything ever happened to her. Shall I?’ he says. I nod and hold my hair out of the way while he does up the clasp. He lets go, and the silver slips cool on my skin.

Jason comes in. His imaginatively named soft toy dog is tucked under one arm. ‘Mr Dog wants to come with you,’ he announces.

‘Does he?’ I take him in my hands, hold him to my ear, and listen. ‘I don’t know. He says he likes looking after you.’

‘Well, I don’t need looking after any more.’

‘And I do?’

‘Course. Since you won’t have your brother there.’ He suddenly launches at me for a hug; as my arms go around him and tighten, so does my throat.

He pulls away. ‘That’s settled then,’ he says, and shoves Mr Dog unceremoniously in the already full bag I’m wearing across my body. His nose and paws peek out over the top.
Great
: Lunatic Luna is guaranteed to make a good impression, once again.

The electric transport pulls away from the drop-off point. I stare at Dad, Sally and Jason through the window, all waving in our version of happy families. Unable to take this in, and I’m fighting not to cry:
an
extended time away
. How long is that? I’m shocked to think I’ll even miss
Sally
.

There are excited voices around me: all happy to be going, to be joining PareCo’s Think Tank. Hackers, every one of them. A few curious glances are cast my way but I avoid eye contact, and keep quiet.

Then we stop, and Hex gets on. ‘Luna! You’re coming, after all?’ He sits next to me, gives me a hug. ‘Sorry to hear about your grandmother,’ he adds, voice lowered.

‘Thanks.’

‘I didn’t know you were back on for this.’

‘They cancelled my transfer.’

‘You haven’t told Melrose?’

‘No. I just found out, late last night.’ I stare back at him, dismayed I hadn’t thought to call her. She won’t take this well. ‘I’ve been caught up with family today. Is she all right?’

‘Not happy about me going. She’ll be less happy when she knows you won’t be at uni with her, either.’

I sigh; mentally add:
And that I’ll be with you instead of her
. Best not put it off. ‘Can you tell her for me, and that I’m sorry I didn’t tell her but I only found out last night? Can you be tactful about it?’

‘Tough assignment. But I’ll try.’ He unfocuses, and is gone for so long that I know a heated conversation is being had.

He comes back. ‘She’s OK. Just bent she didn’t know. But then apologised for said bent-ness. You’ve got a dead grandmother free pass on things still.’

I wince. ‘You really need to work on the tact thing.’

We make more stops, and at every one I watch for Gecko. The transport is nearly full now. Maybe he really
is
crazy; maybe he never was locked up and told he had to come whether he wanted to or not.

Maybe he made it all up.

But then we make one more stop. The door opens, and there he is. Two men stand behind him while he goes through the door.

His eyes are defiant. He walks down the aisle as the door swings shut and locks, and scans the seats. When he sees me, his whole body stiffens. He walks over, nods to Hex. ‘Is it OK if I sit with Luna?’

Hex looks to me. Not sure if it is wise or not, I nod yes.

Hex gets up, moves a few rows back. Gecko takes his seat, a deep frown between his eyes.

I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m happy to see you, too.’

‘Luna, why are you here?’

‘I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night: my grandmother died. So I don’t get the transfer to London Uni any more.’

He looks so appalled I almost start to wonder if he knew her. He shakes his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thanks. So now I’m off to explore strange new worlds with PareCo; what the hell. It’s not like I was doing anything useful or interesting around here.’

‘We really need to talk. There are too many ears here,’ he says, his voice so low I can barely pick out the words.

‘Don’t worry; we’ll have plenty of time to talk. We’re off for an extended time, remember?’

‘Maybe,’ he says, eyes watchful, body tense.

Then the transport lurches, hard, to the left. It
slams
– did it hit something, or just stop? – and there are screams. Everything seems caught in a strange slow motion, as arms and legs and the people they’re attached to appear to fly and almost hang suspended in the air. Crash protection kicks in: giant air bags activate to stop people from slamming into each other or the walls.

But I’ve not flown out of my seat. A vice grip is around me; there is pain in my arm, my ribs. Gecko: he’s braced us both into this seat. He
knew
this was going to happen?

Then the emergency exits activate. Before anyone else can react he’s pushed me through the one next to our seat. He follows me out, and pulls me further into the night.

There is crying, shouting, sirens. Others are crawling out of the wreckage and I scan them anxiously until I see Hex emerge. ‘Run!’ Gecko says, still pulling my arm, almost dragging me away from the electric track.

‘What?’

‘I said,
run
. Run as if your life depends on it.’

But I’m stuck as if in syrup; in shock, confusion; my feet aren’t working, and I’m not sure I want them to. ‘Run? Why? What’s happening?’

He turns back. ‘You have to come with me: you’re one of us. Save yourself!’ The night is cold, clear; the stars are out, and show the silver etched on his skin, so like my mother that a different sort of pain catches inside.

‘I don’t understand. What are you talking about? I’m one of what?’

‘You’re one of us! That’s how you found me in the void. How you left through the wall of my S’hack.’ He reaches out his fingers, lightly touches around my left eye. His touch makes me shiver. ‘The marks, Luna. They’re here, part of your skin. Silver, like Astra, like me. I knew you must have them: only S’hackers can see them, and you saw mine.’

‘No. NO! This is crazy!’

And he turns me around violently to face the crashed transport, a broken glass window. Jagged glass reflects the moon, the stars – and distorts my white face. With pale grey eyes. Shot with silver, and silver winds around my left eye. Silver, like my mother? Like Gecko.

I’m shaking my head, denying what I can see. Am I injured; is some sort of concussion affecting my vision?

‘This can’t be right. How can I have marks on my skin that I didn’t even know about? They’re tattoos, aren’t they?’

‘Run now, talk later.’

‘No! I’m not going anywhere until I understand.’ And I struggle to pull away from his grip on my shoulders.

He lets go. ‘How old were you when your mother died?’ he says, words fast and desperate.

‘Four.’

‘You must have been a S’hacker even that young: they appear and grow as you manipulate the void. Can’t you remember anything about it?’

‘No!’ I deny his words, even as my mind sees the stars, the moon.
We sat on the moon
. But that was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

Sirens are closer now; Gecko whips round at the sound.

‘Run. You must!
Please
,’ he says. Somehow the desperation in his voice dislodges the shock just enough to make my feet start moving forwards, Gecko half pulling me along.

But as we reach the next junction my feet slow as reason returns. ‘Wait. Where we are going?’

He turns, pulls me close in the briefest of hugs. ‘Please, Luna. You
have
to stay safe. We need you.
I
need you.’ He looks back the way we came, and curses. ‘Trust me,’ he says, and leans down, and lightly kisses me so fast I don’t have time to work out whether to pull away or kiss him back. He points me to a dark lane, slaps something cold on my wrist. ‘Meet me in my S’hack when you can. Now, run to the end. A van will come. Get into it. Go!’

And I stumble down the lane in the darkness, mind reeling, not even sure why I’m doing what he says. I look back: he’s going the other way? And there are running footsteps, chasing after him. I stop, unsure what to do, when a dark van rips around the corner at the end of the lane, pulls in next to me, and a door opens. Arms grab and drag me inside. The door slams shut.

A man – twenty-something – stares back at me.

‘Who are you?’ I demand, caught halfway between anger and fear.

‘You’ve got Gecko’s tracker,’ he says. ‘Who the hell are you?’ An angry voice. Gecko’s tracker? And he reaches across and pulls the ring of metal Gecko put on me off my wrist.

‘I… I…he put it on me, told me to come here. I don’t understand. What’s going on?’

‘Where’s Gecko?’ another voice says. A girl. I turn to face her and despite everything else, almost gasp. Her hair is so white-blond it almost glows in the darkness, her skin even paler. ‘Where is he?’ she demands, panic in her voice.

‘Some people were chasing him; he ran the other way.
Who
was chasing him? Why?’

They look at each other.

The man curses. ‘We’ve got to get out of here. There’s nothing we can do for him now.’ The girl starts to argue, but he gets behind the wheel, and soon the van is pulling away, away.

I plaster my face to the window, but can see nothing following in the dark night. What is happening? Who are these people?

Where are you, Gecko?