The Ones We're Meant to Find(3)

Sometimes the need to find Kay overwhelms me, so I don’t think about Kay. I think about Hubert, who’s depending on me. I think about the sea and how impossible-to-swim big it is. I think about all the restless nights I’ve spent in M.M.’s house, dressed in her sweaters and cargo pants, living a hand-me-down life. Nothing here is truly mine. Not even U-me. My real home waits for me across the sea.

First things first: Get off the island.

I dig deeper—and yank my hand away, hissing. Then the pain recedes, because I see the blade. It protrudes from the dirt, glistening with some gray liquid—my blood, I think. I also think …

Don’t jinx it.

Carefully, I ease the blade free. Two more emerge, all three spiraling around a hub. I hold it up to the light streaming through the trees. The three metal petals wink, slightly dented but otherwise very propeller-shaped to my amateur eye.

“Joules.” Am I dreaming?

Nope, still bleeding. Still holding on to the tarnished propeller like it’s some exotic flower.

U-me rolls to me. “Joules: a unit of work energy, noun—”

“Fucking megajoules! We did it, U-me!” I tackle-hug her, then let out a whoop that echoes across the island. U-me blinks, probably wondering if the sound counts as a translatable word. Whatever her verdict, I don’t hear it. I’m already rushing back to the ridge, not sure if I should cry or laugh or shout some more.

So I do all three.

Goodbye, meadow. I dash through the too-tall grass. Goodbye, shrines.

Goodbye, ridge. I scale it in record time, my arms numbed by adrenaline. Goodbye, M.M. Thank you for sharing your house. Sorry the moths got to your sweaters before I did.

I save the last goodbye for myself, the only soul on this Joules-forsaken place. Trust me, I’ve searched. Everywhere. Whittled my situation down to the disheartening facts:

#1 I’m on an abandoned island.

#2 I have no idea how or why, because (see #3)

#3 I quite possibly have a case of amnesia that worsens by the day.

Not-so-disheartening fact #4?

I’m out of here.





2


FROM A DISTANCE, THE CITY in the sky appeared as lifeless as the ocean below it.

Beneath the surface was a different story.

Inside stratum-99, the penultimate level of the eco-city, the party had left Kasey Mizuhara marooned at her own kitchen island. As everyone else jumped to the beat, bodies shimmering under the blacklight, Kasey stood behind a facade of drinks and cups, watching like one might watch animals at a zoo, except she didn’t feel quite human. Alien was more like it. Or ghost.

About time. Kasey had missed her invisibility. She’d been recognized twice in the last week alone, and when the first wave of partiers had logged in, she’d almost logged out.

But the universe had a way of balancing itself. Within fifteen minutes, a group of Kasey’s classmates mistook her for the hired bartender. Then, while Kasey was winging the mixed drinks, Meridian messaged to say she could no longer make it. That’s fine, Kasey sent back. Better than fine, actually, that the mastermind of Kasey’s so-called “moving on” party wasn’t present for it. Because no one was here for Kasey, to her great relief.

To her equally great consternation, everyone was here for her sister, Celia.

Case in point: “Fifty bytes she shows up tonight,” a girl on the dance floor said to her partner, her words captioned in Kasey’s mind’s eye thanks to her Intraface. The most portable computer yet, the Intraface was an interface within the brain capable of capturing memories, transmitting thought-to-speech messages, and—in this instance—lip-reading sentiments Kasey found ludicrous but forgivable. Crashing her own party would be a Celia thing to do. She’d show up fashionably late, bedecked in sequins, and everyone would stare, the fear of missing out on a laugh, a kiss, a whispered confidence written over their faces.

Even then, they missed things.

Like the way Celia never failed to find Kasey among a crowd.

The way Celia found her now.

A pulse went through Kasey. She tore her gaze from the sea of bobbing heads and focused on the city she was modeling out of cups. It was the lights. The music. Too dark, too loud, messing with her senses. Withdrawing inward, she tended to the slew of log-in requests cluttering her mind’s eye. ACCEPT GUEST. ACCEPT GUEST. ACCEPT GUEST. More people appeared on the dance floor. None, however, could outclass her sister, and Celia was still there when Kasey dared another glance. She was dancing with a boy. Their gazes met, and Celia lifted her perfectly lasered brow as if to say: This one’s a catch. Want to try your luck, love?

Kasey tried to shake her head. Couldn’t. Was transfixed as her sister abandoned the boy and slipped through the partiers with ease. She joined Kasey by the island, dispersing the group that was blowing rings of hallucinogenic smoke in Kasey’s direction.

The smoke cleared.

Celia disappeared.

In her place was a girl with electric-blue hair and Newton’s cradles for earrings. Gimmicky, Celia would have said, whereas Kasey might have actually found the earrings pretty cool if her mind hadn’t flatlined, deleting all opinions, fashion or other-wise, her heart racing 100 bpm as the girl seized a cup and filled it. “Quick, talk to me.”

Was she still hallucinating? “Me?” Kasey asked, checking to see that the kitchen island had, in fact, been deserted.