The Rule of Thoughts (41 page)

At some point, he fell asleep. He only realized this when a clanging on the bars ripped him from empty dreams. Disoriented, he sat up on the cot.

A guard stood there, chewing gum lazily, his gun out—that was what he’d used to drag across the metal bars. When
Michael was awake and attentive, the man put the gun back into its holster.

“You have a visitor,” the guard said, bored. “Two, actually. A man and a woman. Which one you wanna see first?”

This woke Michael completely. He stood up. “Who … who are they?”

“Don’t know and don’t care. Which will it be?”

Michael thought hard. The whole situation was odd. Who could it possibly be? Finally he just said, “The man, I guess.”

The guard gave a bored nod, then walked away. Michael stayed where he was, heard a clang, a few whispers, then footsteps. Soon a different man came into view, alone, wearing jeans and a black shirt; brown hair, chin stubble, watery blue eyes.

Michael had never seen him before.

“Sure got yourself into a lot of trouble, Michael,” the man said. He didn’t say it kindly, but he wasn’t hostile, either. Just matter-of-fact.

“Who are you?” Michael asked.

“The name’s not important.”

Michael expected more, but the man went silent. He stared at Michael with his icy gaze.

“So …” Michael searched for words. “Just how bad was it? The police won’t tell us anything. We thought we were in the Sleep. Did … did we kill any people?” He’d been avoiding that thought, holding on to hope that everyone had gotten out okay. But they were certainly being treated like they’d at least
tried
to kill.

“People?” the man scoffed. “You did a lot worse than kill people. You killed the VNS.”

“Wha … what’re you talking about?” Michael’s chest hitched and he struggled to make sense of the man’s words.

The stranger gave a sad smile. “Only,
killed
is a strong word.
Crippled
is more appropriate. Severely. For a long time. Whatever that device you planted was … it was a beast, my young friend. It set off a chain reaction throughout all of their systems, like a physical virus, destroying everything as it traveled from station to station. Completely put them off the grid. How you knew where their mainframe was hidden, I’ll never know. And honestly, I don’t care. That’s not why I’m here.”

Michael stayed as still and silent as granite. As smart as he was, his mind couldn’t compute what he was hearing.

The man stepped closer to the bars and leaned in close. “Listen to me, boy. I came to see you because the world is changing. Changing under everyone’s noses. And you’re a part of it, whether you want to be or not. There’s no telling how long you’ll be in here, but I suspect the time will come, sooner or later, when … circumstances may set you free. And I want you to remember my face. Remember it well.”

“I …” Michael tried desperately to think of something logical to say or ask. “Do you work for Kaine? Agent Weber? Does this have anything to do with the Mortality Doctrine? Who
are y
ou?”

“Friend?” the stranger said in a contemplative tone. “Or foe? That will be determined in the weeks ahead.”

Michael had no response to that.

The man continued. “I’m going to leave you now. You’ll have plenty of time to think before things come to a head. I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson from what happened at
that building. About the nature of the VirtNet. About the nature of reality.”

“What do you mean?”

“When mankind can create a world that is so like our own,” the stranger said, “then how can we possibly ever know what’s real and what’s not real again? I could Lift you right now, pull you out of a NerveBox, and then you’d say, ‘Ah! I’m back in the real world!’ And then I could Lift you again, and you’d be surprised, but feel for certain that this time you’re in the … what do you kids call it?… the Wake.” The man brought his hands up and gripped the bars until his knuckles turned white. “I could Lift you a hundred times. A thousand. How, Michael, could you ever know again that you are truly, truly in the real world? For that matter, who’s to say there even
is
a real world?”

Michael was so bewildered that his knees went weak, almost making him crumple right onto the floor. And not because it was nonsense. But because it was the single most frightening thing he’d ever heard.

“Think on that,” the man said, stepping back from the bars. “Think about whether someone is evil because they want to bring immortality to humankind. Think on all these things and more. You’ll have the time.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” Michael yelled. “Just … tell me who you are.”

“I can’t tell you now, Michael. It would be … emotionally difficult for you. But I wanted you to see my face. Someday, someday soon, it will be important. Until then.” He gave a brief nod, then walked away, not looking back.

“Wait!” Michael yelled again, but the only answer was the echo of his own voice.

Michael sat on the cot, so dazed by the man’s visit that he felt separated from his body, his consciousness floating in some ethereal world that made no sense. The air buzzed with something malicious, a feeling that he could only compare to those horrible moments when he’d Lifted out of the Sleep into another person’s body.

And then he heard the
tap-tap-tap
ping of high heels.

He couldn’t believe it. How did she dare show her face?

He looked up just as she walked into sight on the other side of the bars.

“Really?” he asked. “You came to
visit
me? Be thankful I’m locked in here.”

Agent Weber stopped. Her face was completely unreadable.

“Michael,” she said. “There are things you don’t understand. Especially about me. Also about why things have come to pass the way they have.”

Michael’s heart beat rapidly, and his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He couldn’t even speak.

“Every
t
hing said in here is recorded,” she continued. “I have to be careful. But just know that what you think about me is not true. You and I are on the same side. I’m not … who I used to be, for one thing.” Her eyes flared a little when she said that, as if she wanted him to get a secret message. “And the role of the VNS is much more complicated than you think.”

She leaned very close and whispered so softly that he could barely hear. “The VNS
created
Kaine, Michael. But
now he’s gone rogue. And he deliberately led you to that building in
Lifeblood Deep
so that you’d go there in the
real
world.
I
didn’t switch you. I swear it on my life. No one at VNS can be trusted anymore. And Kaine wanted all evidence of his connection to them destroyed.” She took a step back, as if, with only a few sentences, she hadn’t just spun the world like a top.

Michael stood still, trembling with anger. And he stared harder into her eyes. Oh man, how he missed his friends. He could do this, he could handle this moment—right there and then—if only Bryson were sitting on the cot, making jokes. If Sarah were by his side, holding his hand.

“One more thing before I go,” Weber said. “And this is very important.” She paused, looking left and right, then back at Michael. “You can never destroy a human intelligence. Nor a
programmed
intelligence. Do you understand me? They’re stored. All of them. Both human and Tangent. The Decay may scramble them a bit, but they still
exist
. They can be put back together. This is going to …” She seemed to search her mind for the right way to say something. “I think it will make all the difference in the struggle ahead. If things are ever going to be made right.”

That made the other stuff go away for a second. Although he couldn’t imagine why she was telling him this, it made him think something that he was scared to ask. But he did anyway.

“Not that I can believe a word you’ve said,” he said, “but are you trying to tell me that my parents—my real parents, my Tangent parents—are still alive? And that Jackson Porter
is still alive? That somebody figured out how to download a human’s mind?”

Weber took a step back and once again looked to the left, then the right, then back at Michael.

“Things will get worse before they get better,” she said. “But I do believe that they can and
will
get better. Goodbye, Michael.”

He didn’t bother yelling for her to wait this time. It would do no good.

Her high heels tapped their staccato rhythm as she disappeared down the hall.

They’d taken away most of his access but allowed him an EarCuff, with very limited ability to use the Net. Some entertainment. Simple games. Even criminals got that in a world where reality just wasn’t enough.

He lay on the cot and stared at the NetScreen absently, the glowing green plane mostly blank. His thoughts swam with all the things he’d heard from his two visitors. So much information. So much strange information. The VNS had
created
Kaine? His family and Helga might still be out there? Just as he’d dared hope.

His mind could barely handle it all. He missed the world outside his cell. Wondered what was going to happen. Worried. About everything.

But mostly, right that second, he missed his friends.

A little blip of light caught his attention on the NetScreen.

He looked, but it had disappeared.

A few seconds later, it flashed again, white against green. Then gone.

He watched and waited.

Another blip—this time it lasted longer.

And then two words appeared, as crisp and bright as if they’d been there forever.

I’m here. S
.

Michael’s chest swelled. His mind relaxed. His heart softened.

Sarah.

Only she had the guts and compassion to do what she’d just done. Seemingly simple, but he knew how much effort it had taken, and doubted he could do it back. They were being watched like hawks. But he’d sure try.

Sarah. She was there, and for now, that would have to do.

He started working on a response. It took him an hour to break through the heavy fortifications of the prison systems without being detected. But he wouldn’t let himself sleep until he’d done the deed. Finally he sent the message, then lay back to get some desperately needed sleep. What he’d sent seemed appropriate—they were, after all, gamers when it all came down to it. The message floated in his thoughts and dreams like a beacon for the rest of the night.

We will win
.

Two days later, Michael received his third visitor. Except this time, no cop came to announce him. A series of buzzes and a rattling of metallic clicks echoed through the halls of the jail. Michael had been lying on his bunk, but at the strange noises he sat up and strained to listen. Heavy footsteps, getting closer. A door in the bars of the cell creaked open several inches. Then a man walked in and stood there like he owned the place.

“Come on, Michael,” the newcomer said. “Your prison days are over.”

It was Sarah’s dad. Gerard.

Michael swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to speak, but no words came out. Surely he was dreaming.

“Or … you can take a nap before we go.” It took a second for Michael to even get the sarcasm, confused at why he’d go back to sleep when his cell door stood wide open.