Mind Games (6 page)

‘You really
are
crazy,’ he says.

‘Heh!’ I pull away, start to get up from the bench.

‘Calm down; listen for a moment. Have you heard of ANDs?’

‘Of what?’

‘ANDs. Simple, over the counter anti-nausea drugs for motion sickness: they may help. I’ve heard of this problem before. It’s the disconnect between the sense of motion and the fact that your body isn’t actually moving when you’re plugged in. Some people can’t handle it, but ANDs should solve it. Then you can get an Implant, go to uni, and
you
can live happily ever after. I can’t imagine why they weren’t given to you when you were younger. Your doctor must be an idiot.’

I stay silent. The doctor didn’t know, because Nanna said it was a secret, not to tell. Could it really be that simple? Of course it isn’t just that I get sick, it is
why
I get sick. It’s the double awareness I didn’t tell Gecko about; that I’m still seeing and feeling the real world when I’m plugged in.

The clouds pick that moment to pull back. Stars peek out above us; Gecko is looking up at them. Silver glints around his left eye in an intricate pattern – beautiful, and somehow so
right
on his dark skin. Are they Hacker swirls, but in silver? I couldn’t see them before. But now I can, in starshine?

Goosebumps trail up my spine.
I’ve seen silver marks like this before
. Astra had them. I was so young when she died that I’d forgotten this, somehow – but in starshine, there were swirls and patterns on her skin that echoed the dark ones. Just like Gecko, except he hasn’t got the black Hacker tattoos as well. My mind is full of my mother’s face, laughing in the garden at night, spinning me round under the stars. Tears start to come and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I lean forward to hide my face under the hoodie.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ He turns to me now, stares at me with his dark eyes, one outlined in silver.

‘Nothing. I’ve got to go.’ I stand and start to take his hoodie off.

‘Keep it. Give it back to me tomorrow,’ he says.

I climb off the balcony and run back to my room, not even trying to be quiet any more.

Later the tears subside, but questions are left behind. What do the silver marks mean? There is something about them, something to do with my mother and who she was, but the answer slips just out of reach.

10

I wake up late. Open one eye a crack, and light is streaming into the room.

Melrose is sitting on the bed opposite mine. I sit up fast.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I thought we should talk about what happened.’

‘You mean how you told Jezzamine about Nanna after you promised you wouldn’t?’

‘I didn’t tell her anything.’

‘Sure you didn’t. Just like you didn’t have a jealous fit when Hex dragged me off to have dinner in Hackerville.’

She crosses her arms. ‘All right, I did. A little. It was stupid, and I’m sorry. But why’d you have to stomp off like that after dinner? And I’d spent
ages
getting everyone to agree that you could sit with us at dinner, and then you wouldn’t. How do you think that made me look?’

‘Sure. Whatever. I suppose
that
is what you were talking to Jezzamine about.’

I get up, head for the shower. Turn back, find her dress. ‘Thanks for the loan, but please take it back.’ And hand it to her and walk out the door.

I’m actually shaking.

She
said
she didn’t tell Jezzamine. But how else could she have known? There wasn’t anybody else there. Even Sally doesn’t talk about Nanna; she goes to pains to hide her away.

I make it to the grand hall just before the IQ test results get pinned up on boards. Everyone rushes to look; I hang back, wait for the crowd to thin.

Some faces are happy; others are sad. Some are angry, and there are glares directed at me from my school. Jezzamine walks past. ‘Did you do OK?’ I ask sweetly. She ignores me.

Most have gone when Gecko walks in behind me, and I hand him his hoodie. ‘Heh,’ he says. ‘Ready for the big moment?’

‘Yep. Are you?’

He shrugs.

We walk up to the board together. The names are split into ten even groups, ranked in grade order.

I scan the names in the top group, and there it is:
Luna Iverson
. I sort of knew, but shock makes me look again: it’s still there. I really did it. Despite thinking it may have been a bad idea, there is a warm glow inside: I proved them wrong. And Hex is on the top list, too. And Gecko. I find Melrose in the fourth group – middling to good, just where her dad said she’d be – Jezzamine is there also. There is a note that the bottom two groups must pack and transport has been arranged: their IQ results aren’t good enough, they’re being sent home. The rest of us are to assemble in the hall after lunch.

I glance at Gecko; he
so
doesn’t look happy. But this can’t wait.

‘Can we talk?’ I say. He nods, and we walk away from the board. Out the door, away from the others chatting and milling about outside.

‘I can’t believe we’re both in the top ten percent,’ he says, and shakes his head.

‘Gee, thanks.’

‘It’s just that the others in the top group are all Hackers. So, how’d you do it?’

‘Honestly? I don’t know. I mean, I know I smashed the test; it was like there was this clever part of me taking over.’ I shake my head. He puts his hoodie on the grass, gestures for me to sit on it, then drops down next to me.

‘And I
really
shouldn’t be in the top group,’ he says. ‘I failed the test.’

‘No, you didn’t!’

‘Oh yes I did. For every question I put the most obviously wrong answer: I failed it spectacularly, and went way over time, too. Maybe it would have been wiser to just do average on it?’ He shakes his head.

‘I don’t understand. Why would they put you in the top group if you failed?’

‘They went to a lot of trouble to get me here, and more trouble, with that force field, to keep me here. Were they going to let me just fail the test when they’ve so obviously got plans for me? This IQ result
proves
they’re up to something. If only I knew what it was.’

I stare back at Gecko, shocked into silence, goosebumps cold on my arms despite the spring sunshine on my skin. Can they really fake results? But even if they could, why on earth would they?

No way. He’s acting in his own play; he
must
be making all this up. And that story about being brought here against his will, and thinking the force field was there just for him. If it were all true, why would he even tell me? He doesn’t really know me: how could he know I wouldn’t tell anyone else?

His words
feel
truthful, and there is something about him that makes me want to trust him. But if he were delusional, he’d believe what he was saying. Is he sick, like Nanna? Part of me wants to run away from the dark eyes staring at me intently just now; part of me needs answers.

And worse: something in his eyes
waits
– waits for me to say something to his claims. Somehow I can’t lie to those eyes. ‘Maybe you’ve got delusions of grandeur,’ I say.

Hurt flashes across his face; fleeting, then gone. He shrugs. ‘Maybe I do. What is it you wanted to talk about, anyway?’

I search his face for the silver I know I won’t see in daylight. ‘There’s something I need to ask you. Last night, when the clouds lifted, I saw silver around your eye. You’ve got silver Hacker marks. What do they mean?’

His face stills. ‘They’re not that usual, and they’re kind of secret. But most people can’t see them, even in starshine.’ He stares at me.

‘I’ve seen them before. My mother had them,’ I say, the words dragging out of me, slow and reluctant. I never talk about Astra; I rarely refer to her as
Mother.
Never, ever
Mum.
It hurts too much.

His eyes widen. ‘The mother they said killed herself?’ he says. The one thing he could say that will
make
me answer.

‘She didn’t kill herself! At least, not the way it sounds. She was a Hacker; her life support failed. They said it was her fault, that she set it to fail when she died virtually in a game. That she was so convinced it could never happen that she raised the virtual stakes, gambled with her life, and lost.’ I say the words that defend her, unable to stop myself. But isn’t what happened only marginally better than choosing to take her own life, choosing to leave me? The Game was more important to her than anything else. Including me.

‘Who was your mother?’ His voice is oddly strained.

I don’t want to tell him. He’s a Hacker; it always freaks them out when they find out. Even Hex couldn’t believe it, and for ages tried to ask me questions about her until he finally gave up when I wouldn’t answer.

‘Please tell me, Luna. Who was your mother?’

‘Astra.’

He stares at me, wonder in his eyes, and I shake my head.

‘Don’t give me that hero worship thing just because Astra was the best space game Hacker, ever. I’ve heard it all before, and I’m nothing like her.’

‘I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve got her eyes.’

Oh, great. Not only is he potentially delusional, he’s also one of those freaky fan club Astra-worshippers. He’s probably got her picture on his bedside table.

Most of me wants to run, to get away from him, but
I have to know
. ‘Please tell me. What do the silver marks mean?’

He stays silent a moment, and I don’t press. Finally he looks around and leans in close. Lowers his voice. ‘All right. Because of who your mother is, I’ll make an exception and tell you something I’m sworn not to tell. But you have to promise to keep this to yourself.’

‘I will, I promise.’

‘It’s like…’ He hesitates. ‘A different type of hacking. A different level. Undetectable.’

‘But you said PareCo lets Hackers in, lets them do their thing so they can observe.’

‘Not this. They can’t see this; can’t control it; can’t stop it.’

‘So how’d they catch on that you’re a Hacker? You’ve only got the silver marks, no black marks everyone can see.’

‘I don’t know. Somebody must have sold me out.’ And there is cold, controlled anger in his voice.

‘Maybe they worked it out for themselves. Marks or not, it is obvious you’re a Hacker. You dress like a Hacker, you’ve got a weird Hacker-name, you hang out with Hackers.’

He smiles. ‘
Now
I do. I gave up masquerading as a regular student once it became apparent they knew. There was no reason to hide any longer.’

‘Why haven’t you got any black Hacker marks? My mother had both.’

‘I’ve stuck to silver hacking only. Your mother was particularly skilled in both silver and traditional world manipulation. It’s a surprise they left her alone as long as they did.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing. Look, I’ve got to go. Remember: you promised not to tell anyone, right?’

He gets up and takes off as if something is after him, leaving the hoodie I’m sitting on behind.

Well. What does all this mean? I shake my head. This can’t be for real. If he is delusional or making things up about the other stuff,
everything
he says must be suspect.

It must be.

But my guts clench cold, inside.

It’s a surprise they left her alone as long as they did…

11

‘Hello, everyone. I’m Dr Rafferty.’ He smiles at the assembled students, eyes twinkling below a shock of white hair. Despite my usual mistrust of doctors, there is something about him that makes me smile back.

‘Some students get a little stressed about the testing, so I’ve been assigned by HealthCo to look after you. I’ll be meeting with a few of you for a chat this afternoon. If any others have worries or questions, you can also make an appointment to see me. But don’t ask me about the test itself; that I can’t tell you. And not just because I shouldn’t: I don’t know a thing about it. But here is someone who does.’ And he introduces Langdon, a test official from PareCo.

Langdon steps up to the stage. Is he an evil mastermind, manipulating test results, installing force fields, and setting Implant suggestions so strong even a Hacker can’t see through them? He just looks like a geek, not much older than we are.

He smiles nervously at everyone. ‘Hi,’ he says. Then looks at a card in his hand, and reads it out. ‘Big congratulations to each and every one of you! Your IQ test results show you’ve been graced with intelligence. But do you have the ability to handle your gift? In many ways this is far more important. The RQ test on Thursday will determine this. Until then you will be assigned to groups and prepare for the test together. In a moment you will each receive a folder with instructions, and you will meet with your group at dinner.’

Then they hand out folders to each of us. Mine has a sticker on top:
meet with Dr Rafferty at 2 p.m.
Any imagined liking I had for him before vanishes.

‘Hi, Luna, come in,’ he says, and holds the door.

I step reluctantly into his office; it swings shut behind me.

‘Have a seat,’ he says. ‘And stop looking so worried.’

‘Sorry, I’m not worried,’ I lie. ‘I’m confused. Why am I here? Do I look stressed out to you?’

He laughs. ‘Perhaps a little, but that isn’t why you’re here. There were reports of an episode the evening of the formal dinner, and I wanted to talk to you about it.’

An episode
. That’s what they call it when Nanna flips out. I’m properly worried now.

‘Thank you, but what if I don’t?’ And I know I’m being stupid; I’m pushing him, and there is no logical reason to do that, and any number of reasons why it could be a bad idea.

He laughs again. ‘Please relax; you’re not in any sort of trouble here. This is purely for your benefit, and completely confidential. Just between us,’ he adds.

‘I do know what confidential means.’

‘I’m sure. Your IQ test suggests you’re rather bright. So do you want to tell me what happened?’

I stay silent, and he looks down at some notes. ‘Here goes. You came to the dinner in the same colours as your school, but declined to sit with your classmates and instead joined a Hacker friend. Hex, I believe?’

I nod. ‘But they’re not my classmates. I mean, we’re not in any classes together. Because I’m a Refuser.’ I say it defiantly.

He nods. ‘That is also noted on your records.’ He looks down again. ‘Then after dinner, you left abruptly, had words with a girl from your school, ran out—’

‘—and fell over in a highly embarrassing fashion in front of everyone.’

‘I just have it as “tripped”.’ His eyes are twinkling again.

‘Tripped. Yes, that’s it.’

‘What were the words about? With—’ and he looks down again ‘—one Jezzamine Taylor.’

‘Nothing important. Just a little disagreement,’ I say. Not wanting to cover for her, exactly; more not wanting to repeat what she said about my mother, or Nanna.

‘Reports are that you looked very upset.’

I say nothing, stare back at him.

‘This is going well. I think I’m flunking at doctor-patient communication. Give me something, anything,’ he says, and I’m starting to feel like I’m being mean to someone’s grandfather. Something in me
thaws
. Just a little.

I shrug. ‘Look, it really doesn’t matter. She said some unkind things, but her opinion isn’t important to me. I shouldn’t let it bother me.’ All true, but somehow, it still does.

‘That is a very rational approach. Speaking of which, how are you feeling about the RQ test?’

‘Nervous,’ I admit.

‘Listen. Anyone who did as well as you at the IQ should have nothing to worry about. Unless you’re stark raving bonkers. And you don’t seem bonkers to me. A little defensive, maybe, so watch that doesn’t colour your judgement.’

‘
Not bonkers
: finally, a medical diagnosis I like. But I thought IQ and RQ were independent: that you can be clever, and stupid.’

‘By stupid, you mean irrational?’ I nod. ‘You can. This is called dysrationalia, commonly shortened to dys: irrational decisions and behaviour despite more than adequate intelligence. But that is the more unusual result.’

‘What happens to people who are clever-stupid? I mean, dysrationalic.’

‘What happens to them?’ He looks surprised. ‘Nothing
happens
to them.’

‘But history has shown that they’re dangerous. You couldn’t just leave them loose on the world.’

‘They’re monitored in case they need help. True, they shouldn’t have their fingers on any triggers; suitable occupations are found for them. But they’re not hauled away and locked in a padded room, if that’s what you mean. Is that the sort of nonsense that is going around?’

I stay silent. That is the sort of nonsense Goodwin at my school planted in my mind.

‘Listen to me, Luna. You should do fine on the RQ, but if you don’t, nothing bad is going to happen. Either way, you’ll be absolutely fine.’

And the band of worry in my chest loosens. Just a little. ‘About the IQ test—’

‘Ah yes. Your IQ results were kind of a surprise.’

‘Were they?’

‘There had been some questions raised by your school—’

‘Goodwin.’

‘Yes. By your head teacher, about your suitability for a test appointment. She was obviously wrong.’

‘So how did I get the appointment, then? No one seems to know.’

‘I do.’

‘You do?’ I look at him, truly surprised now. ‘Are you going to tell me?’

‘I might. Maybe you could answer some of my questions a bit more, first.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘Ah, a deal. I see. Who goes first?’

He laughs out loud. ‘Oh my dear, you are a treat. Now, I have a suspicion. That the answer to both questions might be the same. You go first: what did this Jezzamine say about your family to upset you so much?’

‘I never said she said anything about my family.’

‘Whoops…!’ He claps a hand over his mouth.

I raise an eyebrow. ‘If you already know, why do you ask?’

‘You need to say it, Luna. To take the power away from hurtful words, you need to be able to acknowledge them, confront them, then dismiss them.’

I stare back at him. His eyes are so sincere, and maybe I’m paranoid because of Gecko, and stuff he said about PareCo manipulating things, but Dr Rafferty is with HealthCo – he doesn’t work for PareCo.

‘OK,’ I say. ‘It was just the usual. About me being crazy because of my genes. ‘Because…’ And I hesitate. ‘Because of my mother.’
And my grandmother
, I add silently.

‘And there is your double answer.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The reason you were given a Test appointment, Luna, was because of your mother. She had one of the highest IQ ratings ever measured by PareCo. It was felt your school grades were probably not reflective of your ability. There are people behind these decisions, not just computers. And they felt you deserved a chance.

‘However your mother died, Luna, she’s given you a gift now. Don’t let being defensive, or scared of failure, take it away from you. She’d want you to have an amazing future, full of opportunity. Wouldn’t she?’

Despite myself my eyes are welling up. I blink, hard. ‘Can I go now?’

‘Yes,’ he says, and I head for the door. ‘But Luna?’ I pause. ‘If you need someone to talk to, my door is always open.’

‘OK. Thank you,’ I say. And this time I mean it.

It isn’t until later that I put a few other things together. Gecko thought his high IQ test result was proof that PareCo were manipulating the tests for their own nefarious purposes – even though he didn’t know what those purposes might be. But Rafferty said there were people, not just computers, behind things, making the decisions. Maybe it was the same in his case – that they felt he deserved a chance. Or maybe deliberately answering every question wrong was proof of a high IQ in any event?

I go sit in the sun near the tree where Gecko and I were before. If he shows up, I’ll tell him my theory.

The trees are in blossom; other students are dotted about on the grass of the quad. With the wind shielded by the buildings, it’s a suntrap. I’m lying back, skin soaking up the warmth. Feeling more calm than I have in a long time. Rafferty said he was there to stop students stressing out: he’s good at his job.

But finally I sigh, sit up, and face what comes next: the folder I was given earlier.

Inside is a dinner table assignment – we’re back in the hall for tonight. My stomach twists: groups are really
so
not my thing.

And another instruction: not under any circumstances to communicate what I perceive with any of my senses. It is followed by a warning:
Any failure to follow this instruction will result in automatic failure in the RQ test
.