Threader (25 page)

Something tickles my mouth and I swipe at it, then frown when I see blood. More red drops splash onto my hand, and I can taste metal in my mouth. Vogel is on her feet, helping me tip my head forward.

‘Easy now,' she says. ‘Breathe. Bloody noses are common after any sort of psionic shocks to the system.'

‘I don't feel so good,' I mumble.

Eckhart's face is suddenly close. ‘We should take her to medical, just to be safe.'

I want to tell them I'm okay, but the words are hard to form and my face feels numb. My vision narrows to a pinprick and suddenly I can't tell which way is up. I hear Vogel saying something in the distance before my thoughts stutter to a halt and flatline out.

I'm half-carried to the campus medical unit, fading in and out of consciousness. Pain churns my thoughts and I pass out before we get there. After that, consciousness comes in short bursts. The most I register is that I'm in a tiny bunk and people keep poking me. Time feels like a crazed whirl, slowing sometimes to murky minutes that I think will never end. Moments of clarity come to me at times, like I'm surfacing from a confusion of noise and sound. At one point, I imagine I hear Blake's voice and see a blurry vision of him beside me. I get the impression he's reading to me from a book and his face looks worried and drawn. I want to reach out to him, because something is so terribly wrong. But I'm tired and my eyes drift closed, sleep crashing over me. When they open again, he's not there and I think perhaps I imagined it.

When I finally surface and manage to stay awake, I see I'm tucked in a small room, a medic bracelet on my wrist. Cora sits in a visitor chair near me, dozing. I make a small sound and she looks up.

‘How are you?' she asks.

‘I'll live,' I croak, feeling confused. ‘Are we in town?'

‘No.' Cora's smile is tight. ‘The nurse said she had orders to keep you on academy grounds.'

‘Yeah?' I struggle to sit and Cora jumps up to help me.

‘Yeah.' Once I'm up, she sits back down. ‘The nurse wouldn't tell me why you were here. The only reason they let me in was because they thought you'd like to wake to a friendly face.'

‘They were working on breaking my lock with Blake,' I say. ‘Something either went really wrong, or really right.'

‘Sounds dodgy as hell, if you ask me,' Cora says. ‘You've been out of it for nearly two days.'

I take a few minutes to register this, then my weary brain remembers the last time I saw her. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘I'm fine.' She leans forward, voice dropping. ‘I don't remember much, but Blake told me what you did.' She leans in quickly to wrap her arms around me. ‘Thank you.'

The memory of what happened with Blake feels like a thousand years ago. His face flashes through my mind, the image accompanied by deep sorrow. A piece of me, somewhere inside, is missing, and I begin to wonder if maybe we had real feelings for each other, because the sensation of loss is suddenly overwhelming.

Cora sits back, swiping at damp eyes. The corner of her mouth quirks up. ‘Blake came to discharge me from the medical centre. We had a long talk.'

‘What did he say?' I try not to sound too interested. I want to know if Blake came here to read to me, or if I just imagined it.

‘He told me I need to slide again. Soon. That I've got to face my fear.'

‘Your fear?'

Cora's hands fidget in her lap. ‘I just can't bear the thought of sliding. Not yet.'

‘I know you can do it,' I tell her.

She swallows noisily. ‘I'm afraid I'll get lost again.'

I straighten in the bed and inject some steel into my voice. ‘You're a fighter, Cora. Just like me. I know that when you've got to make a choice to slide, you'll find the courage to do it.'

‘Yeah?' Cora sounds doubtful, but also like she doesn't want to argue with me. She shifts in her chair, her gaze settling on a small posy of roses by the window. ‘Those are pretty.'

‘Who sent them?'

‘I checked the card when they came in.' Cora grins. ‘They're from Aaron.'

‘Oh,' I say. ‘That's nice.'

‘
Nice?
' Cora looks ready to strangle me. ‘This is a signal, Josie. A signal he's putting out to you.'

‘What kind of signal?' I ask suspiciously, thinking of his slick moves back at Eckhart's house with the mystery woman.

‘That he's available, cute, interested in you, and massively rich.'

‘Great.' I force a smile. ‘Ticks all the boxes.'

‘Darn right it's great. You just need to play hard to get.'

I roll my eyes. ‘No problem.'

After a dinner of rich, cheese-clotted lasagne and a fluffy chocolate mousse, Eckhart appears, checking in on me. There's a gleam in his eye as he talks about testing whether the break has worked for good, and I can tell he's excited from the way his hands keep clenching and unclenching. I don't point out that if I'd known how much breaking the lock would hurt, I might have reconsidered.

After he leaves, a woman from the academy's administration appears and instructs me to get dressed and follow her. To my amazement, she escorts me to my very own room on the same floor as Cora's. My gear from the dorm has been moved and now sits on the pristine white bed. The knowledge that I was to have my own personal space makes me hug the brisk woman with gratitude. Fortunately, she seems accustomed to these displays of affection, and with a shadow of a smile, she leaves to let me settle in.

After double-checking the integrity of my puzzle-chest and finding it as strong as ever, I feel my talents stir inside and sense they've become stronger, more robust given their continual practice since arriving at the academy.

I stretch out in the bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, it takes me a long time to rise, my thoughts sluggish, limbs heavy. After grabbing a muffin and coffee from a break-out room, I check my schedule. I've been allocated a day free of classes, probably the one advantage of being unconscious for a couple of days, but my late afternoon session with Wendell and Vogel still stands. Settling on my new bed, I review the notes Cora has sent me about classes and make a study plan. An hour later, hopelessly swamped with notes, I decide to take a walk.

The day outside is bright and cheery, the sun warm against my skin. The air seems to smell sweeter than usual and I take it all as a good omen. Cora is safe. The locked thread has been broken, according to Vogel at least. I'm where I'm supposed to be.

Despite these cheery thoughts, I can't help but feel like I've misplaced something dear to me. Distracted by this unexpected feeling and the occasional fragmented memories of what happened with Vogel, my mind wanders, and suddenly I realise I'm no longer outside. In fact, not only am I inside, but I'm standing outside Blake's room.

Shaken that I hadn't even noticed where I was going, I glance over my shoulder to confirm I'm alone in the corridor and debate whether I should knock on his door.

Pretend I'm checking on him.

Pretend I'm testing whether the lock is still in place.

Pretend that I don't suddenly feel like something intimate has been ripped from me, leaving behind a vacuum of emptiness. Unable to help myself, I touch his door then give a start when I realise it's already open a crack.

‘Blake?' I push the door open further and step into his room. Clothes are strewn all over the floor and his bed is a shambles of creased sheets.

‘I heard you were finally out and about.'

Turning, I see Olivia leaning against the doorframe behind me. Her hair is slicked into a smooth ponytail, her skirt shorter than I would ever dare. I try not to think of the expensive dress she'd bribed me with, now crumpled at the bottom of my rookie bag with the stain I couldn't get out no matter what.

‘Blake is out on assignment,' she says. ‘But don't worry, he'll be back soon enough.'

My eyes narrow on her. ‘Are you following me?'

Olivia smirks, but she doesn't answer my question. ‘Guess this clears the way for you to make your big move on Aaron.'

‘I'm not planning on making moves on anyone,' I tell her stiffly.

‘Don't try to kid me. You and Aaron are the same. You'd do anything for that chance at power. After all, I bought your loyalty for a stupid dress.' She bares her teeth. ‘You were easy prey, Josie Ryder.'

‘Shut up.' I'm furious, my anger fuelled by the fear that Blake hurts inside as much as I do. I push past her and hurry down the corridor, wanting to put as much distance between us as possible.

Olivia doesn't make any effort to follow me. ‘Don't forget. You owe me, and I'll be collecting very soon.'

I don't respond. Technically, she's right. But I don't like her insinuation of blackmail, and I'm pretty sure that when she approaches me next, I'll be telling her where to shove it. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Instead of my usual session with Vogel the next day, I sit down with Aaron, while Wendell and Eckhart monitor us from inside a viewing station. My talents are exactly how I remember them, strong and sure, the lethargic sensation gone. But there's something else that wasn't there before: a hollow and empty sensation that gnaws inside my chest, as if I'm starving. Of course, I keep this to myself, knowing it to be a legacy of the break. Time, I tell myself. Time will heal the hunger.

I'm initially hesitant to unleash my talents and thread with Aaron, worried about locking with him, and it takes me a long time to relax enough for the thread to take hold successfully. Our first entry into a computer system is a jarring experience. Used to the organic flutter of human memories, the gleaming cyber network that reaches my inner eye takes some getting used to. The landscape is all gleaming grids and streaming rivers of data, with blinking beacons sitting atop sleek silver towers. I call them bobbly-thingies and Aaron later informs me they're data centres.

‘Every technopath interprets information differently,' Aaron tells me later over coffee. ‘It depends on a variety of things. Your background, your beliefs, your perception of reality. A threader would be the same, I suppose.'

When I confess I have a thing for old-school science fiction stories, he just shrugs, then begins to talk about our next project. Not that I'm bothered by his distinct lack of interest in my interests but I'd hoped for some connection with this person I'm supposed to be teaming with. I quickly swallow the disappointment.

After a successful week of Aaron tinkering around inside a cyber system while I watch bobbly-thingies blink at me, Wendell takes us to one of the sub-levels and the elevator opens to a sterile corridor lined with heavy steel doors. As Wendell stops at one door and begins punching in a long code, Aaron explains to me that we're at one of the D-Levels, a graveyard for old projects.

The room inside is large and one wall is lined with machines and monitors. In the centre of the room, a giant ball of interlocking metal components sits connected to power cables looping from the ceiling.

‘This is a self-reconfiguring robot called a Skymmer,' Wendell explains. ‘It's a project that was funded two years ago by Galloway Industries. It's also a very expensive failure.' She walks over and raps a knuckle against the metal, making a dull
thunk
. ‘There were hopes these could be used on terraforming projects, but no one has been able to solve the commissioning issues. Allow me to demonstrate.'

Wendell walks to a wall monitor and begins entering commands. The machine gives a whirr of life before pieces of metal slide back, the ball unravelling to reveal a hunch-backed android. Wendell types in another command and the machine takes a hesitant step forward. Something sparks behind its right leg and the whirring noise is joined by a ticking noise, sounding like a broken fan. The android tries to take one more step, but falters and topples over with a heavy clunk.

Wendell sighs. ‘The biggest problem is its own AI has an aggressive anti-viral program that has blocked all attempts at a satisfactory diagnostic assessment. Therefore, no one has been able to fix the issue.'

Aaron touches my lower back. ‘What do you think? Shall we take a look at the central system?'

‘Suuure,' I say, but I'm not convinced. I felt brave entering computer systems with Aaron. But entering an android feels like a massive step up. One I'm not sure I'm ready for. After all, who knows what kind of firewalls are in that thing? Or how aggressive its artificial intelligence really is? If we come up against resistance, I'm going to have to be the muscle to protect Aaron, and I'm really not sure how that's going to work.

Sensing my hesitation, Aaron squeezes my hand. ‘Remember, everything you see inside is your own personal representation. You'll instinctively know what a threat is.'

I suck in a big breath and nod that I'm ready. It's now or never. Aaron and I thread and our combined consciousness enters the machine through a central point at the base of its spine. The interior of the android is a dark place, with pulsing grids cross-stitching everywhere.