Epoch Earth; the Great Glitch Page 8

  I was so confused, so lost in thought, that I didn’t notice the old man’s grip loosen on my arm. I just stared at the machine, wondering how he thought my chip would sync to that thing. We didn’t use wires anymore.

  Something cold pressed against the skin behind my ear.

  I jumped, knocking the chair back. The old man stood so close, an actual scalpel in his hand. Two auxiliary wires in the other. One yellow and one red.

  Cold fingers danced on my spine. I stared at the metal blade glinting in the sunlight for a long moment, my legs not knowing they could run now.

  Just as the flight signal seeped from my brain and my leg jerked to run, a large shadow fell over both of us.

  “Engram, what’r you doin?” A deep female voice vibrated the air around us and relief washed over me.

  The old man mumbled something quickly, in his usual manner.

  “Well no wonder.” The woman spun me around by the shoulder. “She can’t understand a word you’re sayin’.” Then she looked at me and smiled. Her face wasn’t quite as weathered as the old man’s, but she’d seen many rough years of her own. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Eng here ain’t patched in many years.” She waved a finger at his archaic ePatch device then said, “Yer old tech ain’t gonna catch on, Eng.” Her voice carried pity.

  Engram dropped his arms to his side, laying the scalpel on the table.

  The woman shoved me forward, closing the gap between Engram and myself. “Now, tell the poor kid yer sorry. You done scared her silly.” She jiggled my shoulder for effect.

  Engram low mumbled something I assumed was an apology and I nodded.

  The woman released me, giving me another slight shove behind her, back toward the center of the street. “Run along,” she said.

  And I did. I ran until my breath was fire in my throat. Until my legs fumbled and sent me careening face first into the reddish-brown dirt. Then I bounced up and ran harder. I didn’t stop until I was home, sweet safe home.

  I barreled through the front door, panting “Mom!”

  She didn’t answer.

  I tore through the rooms searching for her. For Brooks. When I’d left that morning, they were sound asleep. //Brooks!// I risked a transmission. //Brooks where are you?//

  In response, a vision of empty fields and gently swaying bare trees flashed before my eyes. Marcus’s thin lips smiled wide, one front tooth missing, right in my face. I nearly jumped backward.

  They were ‘exploring’ Sector A. And Howie was with them. I exhaled. //Be careful and don’t go too far past the trees.//

  //We won’t.// Brooks replied and the image blinked out.

  I ran upstairs toward my parents’ – Mom’s room.

  “Mom, I’m home. You won’t believe –” I swallowed the last words.

  My mom’s voice wafted through the tiny open space between the door and the wall. For a moment I thought she was just talking to Dad.

  I did that sometimes. I’d shut myself up the room and talk. Tell him about my day. Ask about mundane things like how to fix the leaky sink or whether it was time to log Brooks into school. The day Tangie came wandering back home I couldn’t wait to barricade myself in the closet and tell him all about it.

  But this didn’t sound like that. This sounded... secret. Hushed. Urgent.

  I pressed my ear into the crack and strained to listen.

  “... to know when they’re ready? They’re so young.” Mom’s voice closed in and then receded. Silence for a moment, then “It’s too dangerous.”

  I slid into a runner’s crouch and peered through the slit in the door. Mom paced the floor in front of her bed, chewing on a half-eaten nail, her phone in her other hand. I would have been so happy to see her standing, walking even, if it weren’t for the pained look on her face.

  A male figure flickered from the phone screen, one I couldn’t make out. Who was she talking to? A man? No. She wouldn’t.

  I listened harder, cupping my hands to my ear.

  “... get them out, but I’m not ready. I’m so weak. I wouldn’t make it.” Her voice cracked and it was too much.

  I ran downstairs, through the kitchen, and out into the backyard. Brooks and I hadn’t bothered to play back there since the Glitch. Kicking my flattened soccer ball, then the side of our old playhouse, I screamed. That still wasn’t enough, so I ran full speed toward the big oak tree in the middle of the yard, kicked it with everything I had, and crumpled onto its roots. I barely felt the searing pain shoot from my foot.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I tossed blue streamers high into the leafless branches. Taping ribbons around the base of the tree, I tried not to notice the bark flaking off in my hands. This was going to be a good day, no matter what. When I climbed to the first platform — my spot — to wrap more streamers, I ignored the light crackles and falling twigs.

  A blanket of brown covered the field as far as I could see, which wasn’t much in the gray spring morning. It looks like the dead of winter.

  “Shut up!”

  I held tight to my tree base with one hand and with the other I tossed streamers into the maze of twisting limbs, up and over Howie’s spot. The blue tissue paper bounced over the highest branches and rolled down the other side, snagging and zigzagging as it fell. Soon the tree took on a whimsical facade as the leaves it had shed were replaced with light blue webbing. I wondered it if would look like cotton candy when he walked up.

  Pleased with my decorating skills, I leaned back — as far as I dared — to look for bald spots. I found one at the very top of the tree, the last place I wanted to go. I tightened my bear hug around the tree and tossed the last streamer directly at the offending open gray sky. It hit a branch halfway up, snapped it, and stopped. Both the branch and the streamer hung in mid-air, dangling together.

  With a deep inhale, I looked up at the branch and debated whether it was worth it. Come on you big baby. It’s Howie’s birthday. I swallowed the lump of ‘know better’ in my throat and stood up. My legs wobbled. I looked up toward my target and mapped my path up the tree. Each step felt like it would be my last. The ground whirled around my peripheral vision, my head swimming as I inched higher.

  I passed Howie’s spot, and emerged into the clearing. Stupid Howie and his stupid birthday.

  My arms shook with effort and terror, fingers not wanting to release their branch for the one above. Left foot, right hand, I coached myself until I finally stood perched like a Dodo bird, face to face with the offending blue crepe paper. It swung on its branch in the slight breeze.

  I willed myself to let go of my safe limb and reached out. Its tail licked my fingers, teasing but never coming close enough to catch. I stretched farther, gripping the lower branch with my toes.

  Again, I willed the wind to blow just a little harder so I could — crack!

  Then another. I felt it beneath my feet before my ears registered the danger. Shit! Shit! Shit!

  I hugged the tree for dear life.

  //Howie! The tree! Hurry!//

  //Syn, I told you not to —//

  //Help!// I squeezed my eyes tight and waited for Howie to come save me.

  Long minutes later, with trembling legs and numb fingers, I heard my name.

  “How in Stone’s green earth did you get up there?” Howie asked, out of breath. He studied the gaudy streamers and ribbons littering our sacred fort. “I should leave you.”

  “Please Howie, the branches.” My voice shook worse than my legs.

  “Alright, hang on.” Howie scaled the tree with ease, reaching me within seconds. “Grab ahold.”

  I shook my head with a resounding //uh-uh.//

  Another crack under the weight of both our bodies sent my arms flying around his neck.

  He gagged. “I gotta breathe, Syn.”

  I loosened my grip, barely.

  “This what you were after?” Howie extended a long arm and plucked the streamer out of the air. The branch tumbled to the ground far below.

  On the way down, I
clung to his chest with everything I had, as he teased me. “You know, I’m sure it says something about your personality that you decorated my birthday with party with your favorite color.” I felt the smile in his voice, though I didn’t dare remove my face from the nape of his scruffy neck.

  Muffled, I responded, “I decorate, I pick the color. If you want to plaster pink all over my birthday, feel free.”

  “It’s not pink and you know it. Light red. There’s a difference.” He puffed his chest and sat me on the ground.

  I dug my fingers into the dry dirt, overjoyed at its firmness.

  Howie shielded his eyes with one hand, aimed the other at the same bald section of limbs, and flung the streamer from the ground all the way to the top. It sailed gloriously through the clearing and over the highest branch. We both watched in awe as light blue erased the last bit of dim gray sky overhead.

  “Where’d you get all this stuff?” Howie asked and plopped down beside me, leaning back on his arms like kickstands.

  “After our last supply run, when you went home. I took a little detour.” I beamed, my chest still heaving.

  “Well, you know I didn’t want a fuss.”

  “Too bad. I did want one. Besides, you can’t turn sixteen without a big party.” I waved my arm, presenting the splendor again.

  “Uh, I think that’s just for girls.”

  “Keep that in mind.”

  “Sorry,” he scrunched one side of his mouth up, “you’re only turning fifteen.”

  I gasped, perking up straight.

  “What?” Howie hooked around; a dog on point.

  “Your present. It’s still up there.”

  “A present?” The little boy inside him took over. “I’ll get it.” He flew to his feet and took the branches in twos. Moments later he peeked his head over my platform and shouted, “No way!”

  He hurried back down to me, as I stood and wiped the dirt from my pants. I smiled, matching the childish grin that made Howie’s emerald eyes sparkle.

  “This is the one I saw in the junkyard last month!” Howie held out the yellow motorcycle helmet, turned it over in his hands, mouth wide open.

  “It has full chip sync and GPS built in.”

  “Aw, this is gonna look so boss.” He pushed the helmet over his wayward curls and waved a finger over the ear panel. A light brown shield lowered over his eyes and nose, clicking in place. //So boss.// He chipped, the helmet’s connection instant.

  //Yeah you’re gonna look so boss on the back of my pink scooter.//

  Howie jumped down and tugged the helmet off his head, raising his eyebrow at me. “Chicks are gonna dig this.”

  “Last I checked, I’m the only chick you know, even before the Glitch.” I planted a hand on my hip.

  “And you’re gonna dig it.” He clicked his teeth and winked at me.

  “Ugh, I’m almost scared to give you the rest of it now.” I cocked my head toward the sparsely leaved bushes at rear of the tree.

  Howie’s left eyebrow hiked another inch and the right one joined it. I mirrored his expression and chipped, //Go on.//

  He bolted, leaving me in his literal dust, which kicked up with every step. I covered my mouth and nose with my shirt and followed.

  “No! No! That’s not! You didn’t! How?” Howie broke away the dead branches revealing a black dirt bike with a red stripe alone one side. “The X17! How did you?”

  “I found it on the side of the road a couple weeks ago. Had Marc and Bit help pull it over here and hide it. I gotta say, for someone so smart, you’re not very observant.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Like anyone would ‘observe’ a bike in the bushes.” Howie threw a leg over his new ride and activated the brake. “The code.” He frowned, visibly deflating.

  I strolled over to the bike and punched 0301 into the console, his birthday. “Easy to crack.”

  He smiled up at me. “I’m gonna put a board right here,” he said, motioning toward the front wheel, “for groceries and stuff. Ooh, and maybe find a carrier for Evelyn. She’d love to go for rides.”

  “She’s not even one. Your mom —”

  “I know. I know. I’ll make Marcus sit in it then.” We both laughed at the thought of the ten-year-old boy sitting in a baby seat.

  “Is Evelyn... better?”

  Howie’s face answered. “But she’s a fighter, Mom says.”

  “I’m sure she’ll start growing. Be running around the house in no time.” I kicked the sand beneath my feet. “I have to get back to Bit. Told Mom I’d only be gone a little while.”

  “Alright. Thank you. Thank you so much. I love it.” Howie gushed, petting his new bike.

  “I’m glad.” I turned and walked to my scooter leaning against the other side of the tree.

  As I reached it, tapping my own code into the panel, Howie chipped, //The hug was better, though.//

  My ears caught fire and I refused to look back at him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  January 20, 5AG

  Guard One flung his chair back and growled. “Stop wasting our time! You think this is a game?”

  Synta stared straight ahead, the memory of Howie’s arms wrapped around her for that fleeting moment warmed her. She smiled briefly before catching herself and straightening the smile to a nasty smirk in Guard One’s direction. “It’s my story. This is important. You’ll see.”

  Guard Two remained silent, leaning against the corner wall and fading into the background. He was letting his larger counterpart call the shots. If Synta had any doubt who was in charge, it was gone. She didn’t bother to look back in his direction again. She knew eventually he’d get the information he was looking for on his chip, and things would get fun soon enough. She could wait it out.

  A moment later the room rumbled and an electric whir filled the air all around them. The wall behind Synta grew hotter, and the two-way mirror rattled. “Hope nobody’s still in there,” Synta said, twitching her head backward. “Gonna get quite toasty.”

  Guard One appeared startled by the sudden urgency that the engine noise brought with it. He gave the universal ‘wrap it up’ signal. “Can we please move this along?”

  Synta spoke ever slower. “Sure,” she drug the word out. “Now, where... was... I?”

  Part V: One Year AG

  Chapter Eighteen

  “We break into our regularly scheduled Citizen News broadcast to bring you live coverage of the Namaqualand nuclear power disaster. There are reports of another massive explosion in the same general area.”

  My first reaction to the respite from reruns of the Year 1AG Fundraising Marathon was relief. The same loop of D-list celebrity concerts and slick emcees begging for money had been piped into our chips for the past two months, one leading up to the anniversary, and one since.

  Then the new images took over and I wished for Lixan to come back, fake crying and all.

  “Our affiliates in South Africa have a man on the ground, however he can only get within one mile of the plant. Our HNN Action Drones are in the airspace surrounding the facility to bring you the most accurate, up to the minute coverage. We take you there live. Narran, what can you tell us?”

  A large man with a brown suit, tight around the chest and biceps appeared in my mind’s eye. The reporter stood in front of a blockade, guarded by two much larger men. He held a small controller in his hand. Punching a few keys, he brought the scene behind him into focus.

  The nuclear power plant, which occupied several city blocks, lay bare, ripped to shreds. Fires burned in multiple points behind the journalist, leaping out of the building and falling to start new blazes in the barren grounds beneath. Black metal twisted downward, looking as though the earth had swallowed half of the silo.

  //Is that gonna affect us?// I chipped to Howie.

  //Dunno. It’s South Africa. I don’t think power’s shippable. But it could affect costs.//

  //Nobody uses money anyway.//

  //I think the Sister Nations are
trying to keep money in circulation. H-Net showed —//

  //Wonk.//

  //You know that word’s a compliment right? I don’t know why you insist —//

  //Shh!// I strained to hear the reporter over Howie. He didn’t interrupt again.

  “Just moments ago, I spoke with the head of Environmental Affairs at Namaqualand.” The reporter looked down at his controller and pushed a button, then said, “Giving my translators a moment to buffer; this is quite a remote area —”

  The news anchor broke in, “Narran does that mean that this situation is contained? In such a remote area, the chance for widespread outages, or damage, should be mitigated, correct?”

  Narran shook his head. “Unfortunately, that is not the case here, Kedgel.” He tapped his controller again. “According to Ms. Skoon, the cause of the failure was a prolonged inability to maintain proper cooling in the core reactor. As one might expect, there’s a fine line between creating the energy necessary to run a power plant this size... and disaster. After the Glitch, there just wasn’t enough manpower to keep the facility running at full capacity.”

  Pausing for a moment, Narran stared at the camera, then back at his control screen. A pained look fell across his face; his eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Then, as quickly as it came over him, it was gone. “Sorry, I seem to be...” He shook his head and continued. “Ms. Skoon advised us that they requested emergency assistance from the Council four months ago, but were informed that there wasn’t enough personnel to go around. She was instructed at that time to go into Emergency Operations Mode — Priority A and B customers only — and that worked for a while...”

  Again Narran looked straight into the camera, eyes twitching, and froze. He blinked once, turned toward the blockade on his right, and got right in the faces of the two guards. He screamed at them, flecks of saliva flying from his mouth, “This! This is what happens when you kill your own! This is what happens the elite rule the masses! They decide who lives!”