I moved silently. Only two people at the lab knew I hid right behind their walls, and today couldn’t be the day the rest of them found out. My life depended on it. The Resistance had been careful enough to erase the tiny alcove from the schematics. Officially, the room, just like me, didn’t exist.
I paused with my ear inches from the wall. In the three months I’d spent hidden in this confined space, I had come to know every sound. Learning them was a matter of habit almost as much as it was a matter of survival. I paused, focusing intently on the rhythmic click-click-click. I leaned my forehead against the wall, letting out the breath I held. Just an ordinary sound, a normal shift in the perfectly regulated air systems. I should have known. I was in one of the few places with the kind of heavy air-filtration systems I needed to survive. It worked like clockwork, and without it, almost any Surface allergen would kill me quickly, thanks to the Chancellor.
I closed my eyes and my heart rate slowed. It was remarkable how quickly I could move from alarm to complete relaxation and back again. Another matter of habit.
I climbed slowly back up to my bed, feeling anxious. This alcove might be my safe haven, but sometimes it felt like a prison. The bed was too short to stretch out and the ceiling too low to sit up completely. The confinement was strangling. Sometimes I’d look at the walls and they seemed nearer than before, like the room was closing in on me, inch by inch.
I slept during the day, for as many hours as I could, but time still stretched out endlessly. Lately I’d begun parsing the days into manageable thirty-minute pieces to make the long and painful monotony less overwhelming—half an hour drawing, jogging on the treadmill, unfolding and then refolding my clothes, pacing back and forth across the narrow floor, counting the objects in my room, studying the Resistance’s history texts—the real histories, not the lies we learned in the Community. And training, endless training.
In the early mornings I’d spend countless more half-hours staring at the cool slab of ceiling above me, watching as the thin string hanging from the air duct blew back and forth in the allergen-free air. In my mind I replayed the past over and over and wondered how it could have turned out differently.
I closed my eyes and swallowed. I just had to make it long enough to get there.
It was maddening to sit here knowing Adrien and the Rez were out there fighting the Chancellor and the Community while I was stuck caged in this tiny room. My fingers itched to unleash the power locked inside me and fight to protect the people I loved. I was tired of being the helpless prisoner. I wanted to feel like I had some control again. But I couldn’t even control my power anymore. When we escaped the Community, I had reached into people’s bodies and crumpled the miniscule hardware in their brains. I had ripped heavy lock-down doors off their tracks. But now …
Every day I trained. I sat in the tiny space and worked and strained until I wanted to cry out in pain. But it was no use. I’d stare at my tablet for ten minutes straight, willing it to move just an inch, but it wouldn’t budge. Not because the power wasn’t there. Exactly the opposite—there was too much of it. I could feel it building up inside of me even now, pressing against the backs of my eyes and making my hands twitch.
I was having one of those restless early mornings. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at the drawings papering the wall by my bed. Mom, Dad, my younger brother Markan. The people I’d left behind. And the people I’d lost. Max.
I reached out and touched the picture of Max’s face. I’d tried to capture how he looked when I first knew him, when everything had been simpler and we’d been friends. We’d been drones together, subjects in the Community where we were tightly controlled by emotion-suppressing hardware. It was a dangerous place for anyone who managed to break free, but somehow we’d found each other. We’d protected each other as we explored the new unnatural powers that developed as a side effect of the hardware glitches. I’d trusted him, before I even fully understood what that word meant.
But that was all a long time ago now. That was before I’d known that someone you think you know can look you in the face and tell you lies.
I thought about the last time I’d seen Max, right after I’d learned he’d been working for the Chancellor as a Monitor the whole time. He was an informant, reporting on people who were glitchers like us, getting them captured and “repaired,” or worse, deactivated. And he hadn’t felt remorse for any of it.
“I was going to protect you from it all. We were going to live a life beyond your best dreams, you and me together forever. It would have been perfect.” His voice had turned bitter. “You were supposed to be mine.”
My face burned hot at the memory, and I shook my head. I remembered the disgust on his face when I told him to escape with us.
“And do what? Join your little band of Resistance fighters? Spend every day watching someone else live the life I always wanted with you? Don’t think so.”
It was a wound I opened and salted over and over again. It tortured me to remember, and the anger felt fresh and hot every time I repeated his words. But the truth was, I needed the anger and the pain. I held on to it deep in my chest like an anchor holding me in place. It reminded me that I was here, that I was alive, and that one day I’d be able to fight the Chancellor. I needed to stay strong for that day.
If it ever came.
I turned my eyes away from Max to the other face that was featured most often in my drawings. Adrien, with that smile he saved for me when no one else was looking. I sighed. His was the only face on my wall that didn’t fill me with regret.
The last time I’d seen him had been ages ago, while he was passing through on his way to spend time working at the Foundation. It was going to be a school for glitchers, and best of all, it would have an air-filtration system equal to the research lab here. I’d be able to join him there without fear of the air I breathed, or that any sound I made might get me caught and killed. But I couldn’t picture it. Being able to live without constant fear, to meet more glitchers like me, and to see Adrien every day—it seemed like an impossible dream.
Tears threatened. I reached up to trace Adrien’s face, and a tremor ran through my hand. A flash of fear washed over me. The gentle quaking had been plaguing me all day, first in my thighs, now my hand.
Not again. It shouldn’t be happening again so soon.
I flexed my hand, then made a fist, and the shaking stopped. I swallowed hard, trying to quiet my rising alarm. I hadn’t gotten my telekinesis to function properly in weeks, and the power raged like a wild beast clawing underneath my skin. Adrien always called our glitcher powers Gifts, but I was beginning to suspect that he was wrong. Our minds may have evolved to develop our superhuman powers, but the human body hadn’t. Maybe we were too fragile to contain that kind of power.
I looked at my hands, marveling at what pulsed just underneath the surface, threatening to break free. I laid facedown on the bed with my arms underneath my stomach in the vain hope I could hold them in place. I knew what was coming next, and it was going to hurt. I clenched my teeth in the darkness, willing my body to stay still and quiet. Above all, I had to stay quiet.
In the darkness, I worried for the hundredth time whether we really understood the nature of our powers. I wondered if our Gifts weren’t actually a curse.
* * *
I’d only been asleep for a few minutes when I woke to my knuckles banging repeatedly into my cheek. I sat up abruptly and watched my tremoring hand like it belonged to someone else’s body.
“Shunt,” I murmured, suddenly fully awake. My arm kept at it, but now the shaking had moved up to my shoulder. The normal telltale buzz of my power grew louder in my ears until it was a high-pitched screech.
“No, no, no,” I whispered, climbing awkwardly down from my bed as well as I could. I glanced at the clock on the wall above my head. It was an hour into the workday. Somehow I had to stop from going into full tornado-mode, or I’d be caught for sure.
The first time my power had
gotten uncontrollable like this I’d been lucky, it was nighttime when no one was around. Milton, one of the people at the research lab who knew I was hiding here, had been slack-jawed after he finally pushed his way into my trashed room the next morning. The metal of the bed had been twisted in on itself like a figure eight and the toilet had come loose and made a dent in the concrete of the opposite wall. All my drawings and clothes had been shredded, and I’d sat huddled in the far corner with my arms over my head, bruised and bleeding.
But Milton was kind. He said I reminded him a little of his sister, a drone he had to leave behind in the Community’s control. He told me stories about her while he helped me clean up.
Later, when Adrien visited, he said maybe it was because I was boxed in here and not able to use my power. But he didn’t understand. It was more than that. The power was changing, and I was changing with it. I couldn’t control it anymore. I didn’t know how I ever had. It was getting bigger, consuming me from the inside like a slowly fattening parasite.
I reached up and managed to grab my pillow and blanket right before my legs buckled and I landed on the ground. There was barely enough space to lay flat, but the floor was safer than the bed. With what little muscle control I had left, I wedged myself between the shelf and the toilet to keep myself as secure as possible. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Both of my arms shook uncontrollably now. I flipped myself onto my side to get the pillow under my head and put part of the twisted up blanket between my teeth. The tremors moved to my torso and down to my legs. My whole body jerked up and down. My elbows, shoulder blades, and heels slammed painfully into the cold floor. I wanted to scream, but I was afraid if I opened my mouth even the tiniest bit, all my power might accidentally burst out.
The screech inside my head became a long howl. The beast wanted release. I ground my teeth further into the blanket and tried to brace myself for each time my body smacked into the ground. Again and again and again. I winced with each hit, aching from the impact on bruises that had never fully healed from last time.
I just had to get through this and then I could rest.
The shaking became wilder, and as it reached an apex my foot banged against the wall, making a loud tap, tap, tap noise every time it hit. I focused all of my energy on my legs, trying to hold them still, but my body was out of my control. A whimper of fear escaped my lips. If the wrong person heard me, it was over.
I thought I was going to pass out from the pain, the panic, and the fear. I prepared for the worst, knowing I couldn’t hold on much longer. The power built up like expanding gas in an enclosed space, begging for release. I couldn’t keep it in. It was going to come out. I clamped my mouth shut tighter but it felt like I was ripping apart from the inside.
Just when I thought I was about to burst wide open, the seizing began to quiet down. The shakes slowed to trembles, then just a shiver, and then I lay still. Sweat dripped down my temple and slid into my eyes with a salty sting. I wanted to wipe it away, but I was so tired, my arm felt leaden. I rolled over onto my side and breathed slowly as I gathered my strength. Then I eased my way to my knees, pausing with each step, and eventually rose to my feet.
I felt as if I’d been running on the treadmill for a day and a half. I had nothing left. But at least I’d be able to sleep now. I climbed tiredly up the ladder to my bed. My arms shook again, this time not from excess power, but from exhaustion.
But right when my head finally rested on the thin mattress, a scratching sounded from the wall, right at the hidden entrance to my room. I froze. Milton shouldn’t be bringing me food yet. Someone must have heard my foot banging into the wall. They could have easily followed the sound back to the wall panel that doubled as the secret entrance to the alcove.
Fat tears squeezed out of my eyes. I wasn’t strong enough to fight. I rolled my tired body over toward the wall. Whoever came in wouldn’t see me right away, but I knew it wouldn’t help much. I was a muddle of fear and exhaustion. After so much effort, so much sacrifice and patience, I couldn’t lose it all like this, facing my enemies while weak and afraid—
“Zoe, it’s me,” came the whisper from below. My heart leapt at the sound of Adrien’s voice. All the tension went out of my body like a wave. I half-climbed, half-fell down the ladder and launched myself into his outstretched arms. He wasn’t supposed to be here until next week. Did it mean I could finally get away from this horrible place? I parted my lips to ask, but couldn’t find the strength to care about anything but his warm arms around me.
My hair had come undone from its braid during the shaking episode, and Adrien curled his fingers into it. I sank against him, breathing him in. My exhaustion lightened in his embrace. It was always like that when I was with him. I tipped my head back and he kissed me. His lips were gentle, and for a moment I forgot all the loneliness and fear of the past few months. All I could think about was the soft texture of his lips and the way love for him bloomed inside me like a light cell blinking to life in a pitch black room.
But all too soon he pulled away. His eyes were cloudy. “There’s not much time. We’ve gotta move. Now.”
He turned and let go of me, and my weakened legs gave out from under me.
“Zoe!” Adrien caught me around the waist, pulling me back up. “What’s going on, are you okay?” He set me down on the closed toilet lid, the only place to sit other than up on my bed.
“I’m fine,” I lied, blinking and trying to get a breath. “I just gotta get some rest. Can we leave in the morning?”
But when I looked back over at Adrien, he was already pulling out the biosuit box and opening it up.
“We’ve got to leave now, Zoe, not tomorrow morning. Fit your feet into the rubber boots first, then we’ll pull the rest of the suit up.”
“Why now?” I asked, blinking and trying to make sense of everything that was happening. I stepped into the boots.
“I had a vision. There’s gonna be a raid on this facility soon.”
It took a few more moments for what he’d said to sink in. “Wait, you mean … No! They know I’m here?”
“Not yet,” Adrien said, managing to sound halfway calm. “The Chancellor was just named Under-Chancellor of Defense. Right off, she ordered inspections of any place with the kind of air-filtration system she knows you need to survive. I thought we’d have more time. I mean, there’s about fifty facilities like this in the sector and there’s no way she’d know this is the only one the Resistance had access to.” He shook his head. “But I saw it. This lab’s gonna get hit.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “It felt like a short-term vision, like it might happen in the next few days.” He looked back up at me. “Maybe today even.”
I felt a dizzying wave of panic. They were coming for me. The horrifying reality of the situation settled in, clearing away some of my remaining cloudiness and exhaustion.
“I was gonna send a com,” Adrien said, “but I was afraid any communications would get intercepted and decrypted. I didn’t wanna accidentally be the cause of the inspection.”
Another cold realization swept through my chest.
“But wait. Where are we going?” I asked. “If the Foundation isn’t ready yet, this lab’s the only place we have access to with air safe enough for me to breathe. What happens in twelve hours when my biosuit runs out of oxygen?”
“We’re going to a Beta site nearby. They have a few spare oxy tanks there. It’ll buy us some time to figure out the rest.”
He held out an arm to help me stand up enough so he could pull the heavy padded suit up to my waist. There were three separate layers to it, and it smelled strongly of plastic and stale air.
“It’s dangerous, I know,” he continued. “But we don’t have a choice. If we move fast enough, maybe we can get out of here safely. Maybe we can change the vision.” His jaw tensed for a moment. “Otherwise what’s the point of seeing the future?” I wasn’t sure if he was talk
ing to me or to himself.
“Have you ever done it? Changed something you’ve seen?”
He didn’t answer me, just lifted up the top half of the suit. “Here, fit your arms in.”
I shrugged my arms into the heavy sleeves of the suit and sat down again to rest while Adrien clipped one of the compressed oxygen packs onto the belt at my hip and hooked it up.
He fit the thick helmet with its see-through faceplate over my head, adjusting it so the edges were firmly aligned with the body of the suit. The whir of precious air circulating through the mask filled my ears. He reached for the suit’s forearm panel to run a quick diagnostic that would check for tears or leaks, and that’s when I saw it: the red alarm light began flashing silently in the corner.
I gasped and looked over at Adrian. We both knew what it meant.
The Inspector was already here.
About the Author
HEATHER ANASTASIU grew up in Texas and now lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband and young son. She spends most days writing at a coffee shop or daydreaming about getting a new tattoo.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
GLITCH. Copyright © 2012 by Heather Anastasiu. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover photograph of girl by Michel Legrou
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Anastasiu, Heather.
Glitch / Heather Anastasiu. — 1st ed.