The Ones We're Meant to Find(18)

Ding.

Inbox: (1) new message

—comprised the miserable, helpless human experience Kasey didn’t particularly want to take part in, but was sucked into anyway when she opened the message.

From Actinium. One word, no punctuation.

ready

No, Kasey wanted to say. Not ready. Except it wasn’t a question.

Ready. Celia’s Intraface was ready.

“—demonstration later. Oh shit,” Sid said as Kasey looked up, bleary-eyed as if she’d just resurfaced from a 200 meter breaststroke. “I forgot we have a P2C officer here.”

“Behave yourself,” Meridian said to Sid, then to Kasey: “Linscott Horn is speaking on stratum-25 today.”

“After school,” added one of the girls. “We’re picketing.”

“What century are you from?” asked Sid, chomping into his protein cube. “Hacking,” he mumbled through the mouthful. “Gonna disable everyone’s rank. That will show Horn his bigotry isn’t welcome here.” He winked at Kasey. “Could use some help from a pro.”

“Sid,” said Meridian, a warning in her voice. “Cut it out.”

“Just messing around.”

“Well, it’s not funny,” Meridian snapped before Kasey could say it was fine.

An uncomfortable silence fell. No one spoke of it, but everyone had to be thinking about Kasey’s science sanctions. Hacking was strictly forbidden. It was for everyone, but especially for Kasey. The presets on her Intraface monitored her compliance just like the presets on her biomonitor. One toe over the line, and P2C would know.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Kasey said, breaking the silence. She removed the IV from her arm and rolled her blazer sleeve back down. “I have plans.”

“See?” said Sid, nudging Meridian. “She’s in high demand.”

The tension dissipated. The conversation resumed. Meridian caught Kasey’s eye and mouthed, Thank you. As far as she knew, Kasey had lied to clear the air.

If only that were so.



* * *



This was Kasey’s lie: She had no plans of going after school.

She left during study hall. Took the nearest duct down. Her classmates wouldn’t notice her absence. Her teachers might, but it’d be her first strike. She’d survive detention, she thought as she pushed through the stratum-22 crowds, if she could survive this.

“Not again!” cried the tattooist when Kasey burst into GRAPHYC and cut straight to the back stairwell. The door at the top was cracked open. She entered without knocking.

Unit, empty. She looked up and found Actinium overhead, on the ceiling, sitting before a low tabletop laid with two objects. One holograph projector, and a smaller device emitting a web of laser beams at the center of which, suspended like a gnat, was the white kernel.

Celia’s Intraface, exposed to the world. Kasey’s scalp tingled. She became cognizant of her physical state: sweaty and out of sorts, composure sorely lacking.

Unlike him. “You’re early.” His voice pervaded space like a radioactive element. He rose; the table retracted. He strode to the top of the stasis pod—or bottom, from his perspective, and started to climb the makeshift rungs. The gravitational force reversed halfway between the ceiling and the ground, and by one arm he swung, released, and landed on his feet.

The move had clearly been perfected through practice. The touch down, soundless. Still, the impact traveled through the soles of Kasey’s shoes. She took a step back. “You messaged.”

“You have class,” said Actinium, his tone flat.

Kasey crossed her arms. She may have seemed like the studious type, but she wasn’t any more inclined to school than she was to people, nor did she see how her school life was any of his business. “How long?” she asked, piqued.

“Ten more minutes.”

Ten minutes too long, then. The unit suddenly didn’t feel big enough for both of them. “I’ll wait…” Kasey started, and trailed off as Actinium went to the fuel-bar, opened a cupboard, and took out a cannister labeled TEA and two glass mugs.

… outside.

As he tapped boiling water into the mugs, Kasey analyzed him, looking for the traits Celia favored. Tall? Check. Dark haired and dark eyed? Check. Shoulder to waist ratio? There, Kasey paused. He’d seemed better built yesterday, at the end of her REM, but now she saw it was due to his posture. He was actually on the slighter side in terms of stature, Kasey concluded as Actinium turned around, handed her a mug, and leaned back against the fuel-bar with his own.

The silence grew into an unfinished breath. An unspoken name. Contradictory as it may have been, Kasey became convinced that the space, too small for the two of them, was made for three. It needed Celia. She needed Celia. Needed advice on what to say to the boy across from her, the common ground between them strong enough, in theory, to withstand any faux pas Kasey made and yet … she was scared. Scared of revealing that she grieved less. Understood less. Cared less, compared to Actinium.

She blew on her tea. It did not cool any faster. The law of thermodynamics didn’t bend for her. The world, as usual, turned fine without her. Remembering that gave her the courage to finally speak.

“How long did you know her?” she asked at the same time Actinium asked, “Do you have any questions?”