Seventeen
As soon as the class was over, Merry took Bysshe aside as they started toward the cafeteria. She had to steer her away from Aidan Alexa, who naturally drifted toward her friend as usual for lunch.
"We have to talk," Merry said and Bysshe nodded.
"But not now," Merry said. "Meet me in the library in thirty minutes."
"Okay," Bysshe found herself saying once again, as if it was the only word she could utter to Merry, who'd walked off briskly as if on a mission. Aidan Alexa came up to Bysshe then and trotted along by her side.
"Were you guys doing your project? That's why you were late?" she wanted to know, and Bysshe, who hadn't prepared any alibi, simply nodded, and that was good enough for her friend.
"Don't tell me," Aidan said, "I don't want to know. But gee, wasn't Mumford even more terrible than usual?" she added.
"I guess so," Bysshe said, still finding herself stuck in agreeable mode. She wanted to get out of that rut, so she forced herself to say anything else. What she wanted most not to say, though, was exactly what she said.
"Vonny looked all right, didn't he?"
"Vonny" Aidan laughed. "Since when did he ever look good? 986-YUK!" she added, giggling at a private joke they'd once made about her father's car's license plate.
Bysshe laughed along, too, glad that her unintended remark had not provoked any questions. After a hasty gobbling of food, Bysshe explained about her appointment with Merry, and Aidan helped her to make it on time. Merry was waiting at the same table as before.
"The report," she snapped, holding out her hand, and Bysshe retrieved it from her backpack and handed it over.
"We'll need to re-do the parts under Variables and Procedures," Merry said. "Do you have an eraser?"
"Yes," Bysshe replied, and dug one out from her backpack. Merry returned the folder to her and redundantly pointed out the paragraphs that needed erasing. Bysshe got to work and did a thorough job while Merry supervised imperiously.
"Instead," she announced when Bysshe was all done, "we'll move on to subject Number Two."
Bysshe scrambled to pick out a pencil and got ready to copy once more.
"The subject is a female," Merry said, "who is a student at this school. She is ordinary in most every way, of average intelligence, plain-looking, on the short side and rather too thin. She certainly has an appearance that one might associate with a hologram, being pale, her skin nearly translucent."
Merry paused for effect, expecting that last adjective to impress Bysshe, which it did.
"She has only one easily observable flaw, one trait that would lead away from suspicion. She's a chronic nail biter," Merry pronounced this last phrase very deliberately. She knew very well the reaction it would cause in the other. Bysshe had barely finished writing down the words when she looked up at Merry in shock.
"Yes, Aidan Alexa," Merry said. "She is a hologram. I'm absolutely certain."
"No!" Bysshe said. "No way! She's my best friend. I'd know it, I'm sure."
"They do a fine job, you have to admit," Merry answered. "Just look at Vonny Ramone. They brought him back up and running in no time at all."
"We don't know that!" Bysshe countered. "We don't know anything about it. I didn't even see what happened to him."
"He was extinguished," Merry informed her. "Just like that, like a light that went out, he was down."
"Maybe he fainted," Bysshe said, "or maybe he had a heart attack!"
"They would have taken him to the hospital in that case," Merry said.
"Or what if he's an android and I just turned him off. They could turn him back on again easily, right?"
"It takes time to power cycle," Merry responded, making it up on the spot. "Couldn't be done in only that time. But a hologram, hey, they just turn on the light."
Merry had no idea how holograms worked, and barely a clue about androids, for that matter, but it sounded convincing, Bysshe had to admit. She wouldn't believe, though, that Aidan Alexa was one.
"Procedure," Merry continued, but Bysshe was not writing it down.
"Procedure?" Merry repeated and cleared her throat to make her point. Bysshe sat there staring, not returning the pencil to paper.
"In this case," Merry said, "the subject is vulnerable in one manner only. She must be approached gently, for she is easily alarmed. You must stand right beside her, on her right side, and with your lips only you must pull on the tip of her earlobe."
"What?" Bysshe nearly shouted. She hadn't written down a word. "Eew! I'm not doing that! I'm not doing any of this anymore."
She stood up and pushed back her chair, which fell over and made a great noise.
"Take it easy," Merry said quietly. "I didn't say you had to do anything. Come on, sit down."
Bysshe followed instructions and sat down again.
"Just write it down," Merry said. "Remember, failure is always an option? We'll just say that we did it, and then nothing happened. No sweat. It's science. So our theory is wrong, who cares? Haversham won't!"
"All right," Bysshe shrugged, and wrote the words down as Merry repeated them. She had to admit she was lost. Merry was so far ahead of her in everything, it seemed. Bysshe was not used to failing. She didn't even know it could be an option, as Merry had put it. She'd always heard it was the opposite. Here they were giving it ten percent, not a hundred and ten. They were taking it down a notch, instead of taking it to the next level. They were under-achieving on purpose. Going through the motions. Doing a half-assed job. Her mother would certainly disapprove, and she wasn't feeling proud of herself. Merry, though, was satisfied. Haversham would get his report. She would submit it to him right away, and then she'd be in the clear. He would leave her alone and that was all that she wanted.