Minders

  “Read it,” she said nervously.

  Sadie wasn’t sure what to expect, but both she and Ford were slightly disappointed when all it contained was a contract.

  She started reading it, and her heart caught in her throat.

  Contract between Vera Winter, hereafter PARENT, and HEALTH HARVEST (hereafter HH), a division of Roque Community Health Evaluators (hereafter RCHE) concerning health insurance and care for Ford Winter (newborn), hereafter CHILD 1, one of 3 members of the Winter family (include all relatives who live at same address), hereafter FAMILY.

  RCHE agrees to provide comprehensive medical and dental care including regular checkups and all immunizations to CHILD 1 from the date of the contract until his twenty-first birthday. In exchange PARENT agrees to periodic scheduled visits from RCHE to interview FAMILY (not more than once per quarter except in special cases SEE BELOW) and one unscheduled visit per year (except in special cases SEE BELOW).

  FAMILY has opted IN to inclusion in periodic opportunities to assist with high-level scientific research; all such opportunities are voluntary.

  FAMILY has opted IN to Interperception.

  Interperception is a risk-free procedure that allows members of your community between the ages of 19 and 25 to shape its future. If selected to participate in Interperception, your CHILD will serve as a HOST for a researcher GUEST who will chart his or her movements and thoughts for six to twelve weeks, using the collected data to improve social service and lifestyle programs in your community. GUESTS will undergo a rigorous selection and training process and may range from top scholars in their fields to artists, journalists, designers, intellectuals, and students.

  Data is gathered passively by means of a neuronano relay chip (hereafter CHIP) implanted in the child’s bloodstream between four weeks and fourteen years of age. It is painless and undetectable to the body or the eye.

  HH, RCHE, and all programs now or in the future involved in Interperception guarantee that you will never be approached or identified by former GUESTS. Punishment for GUEST–HOST interaction outside of Interperception is severe (see pamphlet WHO’S ON YOUR MIND for greater detail). Because of the profound influence of data gathered, HOSTS are never told of their selection but serve in complete anonymity.

  Parents must agree not to inform their children of their status as potential HOSTS until after the date of their 25th birthday, when that status is revoked. Should a parent violate this provision, the case becomes a matter for Serenity Services, subject to the full spectrum of punishments available under the law, including but not limited to fines, permanent suspension of parental rights, and jail time. Your signature on this contract signals your acceptance of all conditions for yourself and your FAMILY.

  • • •

  Sadie finished reading before Ford did, but she kept staring at the contract. She was fascinated by the differences between the materials she’d been given and these. There was no nuance, none of the excitement that bubbled from the Mind Corps Fellowship application materials. The translation of Subjects into Hosts and Minders into Guests made the enterprise feel less scientific and more accessible. And there was no mention of Syncopy—because, she realized, it hadn’t existed nineteen years earlier when the contract was written, and neither had Mind Corps.

  The entire mission had been nebulous because they hadn’t known what their technology could do, just that in time it could do something extraordinary. Sadie admired the audacity of that, the ability to look beyond the factual and plan for a potential but not yet conceivable future. She felt a rush of pride to be part of something that visionary.

  Ford’s reaction was completely different. As he read, the words started to vibrate, and she felt him shift to keep the door of his anger closed. His mind got noisier, voices muttering furiously, some full sentences, some no more than growls. At one point he barked with uncomfortable laughter, and that seemed like the worst of all.

  “Hosts. Guests. Like we’re having a damn party,” he said. “The condescending assholes, to think we’d fall for something like that.”

  His mother said quietly, “When you brought up the symbol on your ID the other day, I knew I had to tell you. No matter what.”

  He stared at her blankly. “You mortgaged my brain to Roque Industries.” His tone was acrid.

  His mother flinched at his bitterness. “That’s not how it was. Your father was in jail, we had no money, and then you came early.” She leaned forward, urging him to understand. “They wouldn’t let me stay in the hospital without insurance. And you were so small, if we didn’t stay you would have been in danger. It was the only way I could take care of you.”

  His mind was curling in on itself, filled with the stinging, noxious scent of bleach, of betrayal. “You gave complete strangers permission to rifle through my memories, entertain themselves with my secrets, spy on my life, with no notice, whenever they wanted. To do whatever they wanted inside my head secretly, no questions asked. You turned me into a lab rat, something to run experiments on.”

  That’s not fair, Sadie said. I’m not a stranger, and I’m not experimenting on you. Everything I do is for your own good.

  Mrs. Winter’s eyes were defiant, but she was trembling. “I did what I had to do as a parent to protect my child.”

  “Protect me?” He gave a mirthless laugh. “No. Let’s not be like these”—he pushed the contract aside—“hypocrites, and play with language to hide the truth. Let’s be very clear.” He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. “You sold my most private parts to Roque, for them to use as they please. You whored me out, Mother. How is that fulfilling your duty as a parent? How is that protecting me?”

  Mrs. Winter’s face was a mask of horror. Stop, Sadie said, half yelling, half begging. That’s not how it is.

  It was too much for his mother. She collapsed, elbows on her knees, face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She was sobbing, shaking. “I did what I had to do. I wanted you so badly, I wanted you to live. I didn’t know what else to do.” Her body rocked back and forth, as though it couldn’t contain all its pain. She gazed at him, her eyes red, her cheeks tear-stained. “Look at you. You’re healthy. You’re strong. Why do you resent me so much? Why?”

  Inside of Ford the slick contempt, the furious screaming, the bazaar of disgust and self-loathing, the bitter incense of bleach all vanished, replaced by the velvety pain of self-recrimination. “I don’t, Mom.” He knelt beside her and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I don’t. I understand why you did it. I’m sorry.”

  Instead of getting softer her sobs got louder, as though only now, in the comforting circle of his embrace, could she finally let go.

  Sadie heard him think how small she was in his arms, how fragile. He saw the roots of her hair, darker than the ends, and the tight, dry, sallow skin on her hands. His mind formed an earlier memory of her wearing a long strapless dress, a two-year-old Lulu holding one hand, both of them smiling. She looked beautiful, a real knockout, soft and round and glowing.

  “I don’t resent you,” he said, smoothing her hair. “I resent our life. I’m tired of being poor and not seeing any hope in sight. I’m tired of eating what’s on sale, wearing what’s on sale, having to endure visits from counselors who think they have a right to judge how we live and invade our privacy, just because we’re poor. They can’t even leave me my secrets and dreams. Rich kids don’t have to live this way. That’s what I resent.”

  Sadie wished she could curl up in a ball and hide. That’s not how it is, she wanted to protest. Only it was. It was exactly like that.

  “Maybe you could put it out of your mind,” his mother suggested. “Maybe just not think about it.” She watched him hopefully, but Ford wasn’t seeing her.

  Put it out of your mind rolled and echoed around his, picking up speed, becoming “People do things they don’t want to do when they lose their minds” and “The Pharmacist does that to people, one look and they lose their heads” and “I??
?m trying to keep you from losing your head too.” Bucky’s words from the other day.

  It was as if an explosion went off in Ford’s head, making everything sharp and clear. This was what Bucky had been talking about, Sadie heard Ford thinking, losing your mind, not metaphorically but actually. This was how the Pharmacist manipulated Linc and everyone else. The Pharmacist didn’t have superpowers that bent people to his will; he had a chip implanted in their brains that allowed him to control their minds.

  But that’s not how it works, Sadie objected. No one is using interperception or Syncopy to mind-control anyone—I can’t even get you to put the toilet seat down. Even if someone wanted to, they couldn’t, it only goes one way, only from you to me.

  Ford’s mind slowed, drawing together into dots of color to show Bucky saying, “As long as the Roaches come around, you’re safe,” and the cool, musty scent of relief filled Sadie’s nose. If the Roaches were still checking up on him, she heard Ford think, there must not be anyone in his head. Which meant he still had time.

  Except there is someone, Sadie thought with exasperation. Me. Proving that Bucky has no idea what the chips actually are.

  Ford’s attention refocused on his mother. “When did you tell James?”

  She looked at him, puzzled. “Tell him what?”

  “About the chip in his brain.”

  Mrs. Winter’s head went back and forth. “James didn’t have it. When James was born we were living in the other house, your father still had a job. There was no need…”

  Sadie heard Ford thinking that if James didn’t have the chip, the Pharmacist couldn’t have had any hold over him. So why would James have gone up against him?

  Maybe he didn’t, Sadie countered. You only have Bucky’s word for any of this. And if he did, doesn’t that just prove the Pharmacist has nothing to do with chips or Interperception?

  He needed to find the Pharmacist and make him pay for what he’d done to James, Sadie heard Ford decide.

  Sadie wished she could shake him. Great idea. Find a criminal mastermind no one has ever lived to tell about. What could go wrong?

  Ford kissed his mother on the forehead, pleasantly surprising both of them. “Thank you. Thank you, Mom.”

  As he got up and headed to the kitchen to make dinner (Note to Ford: If I could mind-control you, we would not be eating Chicken N Biscuits from a can) he cursed himself for having been so distracted he’d missed the license number of the black Range Rover that picked Linc up.

  I got it, Sadie said. It was 145T90. Of course, I can’t tell you because I can’t mind-control you.

  Luckily, he had another plan for finding the Pharmacist.

  But if I could, you would not use the word luckily that way.

  And you would not text Plum anymore. Twice today is more than enough.

  CHAPTER 21

  Ford got fired from his job Friday afternoon. The foreman called him into his office and accused him of stealing. “Found those gewgaws you set aside. Birds and such.”

  “I wasn’t stealing those,” Ford said. “I was preserving them.”

  “Not the gewgaws. You’re stealing from my time, boy,” he said, leaning in. “I put up with your Frosty Jones and the Temple of Scrapping for a long time, you working slower than everyone else because you find a door handle or a dumb blonde or a piece of a piece of a painting you think is pretty to look at, but I’ve had enough.”

  Ford was still having trouble believing it. “Dumbwaiter,” he murmured to himself before saying, “Please don’t fire me. My family needs the money, sir.”

  “Kept you on as long as I did in memory of your brother, rest his soul. Great kid. Swing first and ask questions later, that was his way. Fine demolition man.” He looked away. “You’re a good worker, but you just don’t have the spirit to destroy.”

  As though to prove the man wrong Ford went outside and bashed his hand into the wall so hard his mind flashed red, yellow, and blue.

  If I were mind-controlling you, Sadie told him as he painfully flexed and straightened his knuckles, there would be a lot less punching of walls.

  • • •

  Saturday evening Ford sat on the couch with TREASURE HUNT 4: CURTAINS CALL in front of him. Finding Bucky was part one of his plan to find the Pharmacist, Sadie had learned, so he was ransacking his memory for details of Bucky’s theater to match to one of the six probable locations he’d marked on the map. Copernicus, his head in Ford’s lap, had the other half of the couch.

  It was slightly past the time when he should have turned on a light but he hadn’t, so the room was filled with shadows, which, Sadie saw, helped him bring out the details of his memories. She was amazed by how much he recalled about the theaters, tiny things like the design on a molding, or the exact width of a door—nothing she’d paid attention to. It made her a little melancholy to realize that you could get all of someone’s brain input and still only know him partially.

  “Maryelise’s boyfriend is back. He must really like her, he was here this morning,” Lulu announced from her perch at the window. Ford had insisted on keeping the television off, so in revenge she was narrating everything she saw. “Hamilton got a new bike, piece of paper flipping over, three leaves, another leaf, Vitacrisp package doing somersault, Vitacrisp package doing another somersault, fancy gray car going down the street, fancy gray car stopping at the curb, fancy gray car door opening, fa—”

  Ford covered her mouth with his hand. Thank you, Sadie breathed.

  He stood next to her, looking down at the street. Ford didn’t recognize the fancy car, but both he and Sadie recognized the tall, red-headed guy who got out, walked up the path to the front door of their building, and buzzed their apartment.

  Mason Bligh was so tall he’d had to duck slightly to step into their apartment. Then he’d been forced to stand just inside while Lulu and Copernicus gaped at him with instant infatuation. Sadie suspected that didn’t happen to Mason Bligh often, but the girl and the dog were unquestionably smitten.

  When Ford asked Lulu to step aside she’d turned and run toward their mother’s room, yelling, “Mom! Come see the beautiful man!” Copernicus had stayed to stare at his new idol.

  Surprise, concern, and wariness all flashed through Ford’s mind. Before Ford could say anything antagonizing, Mason said, “I’m sorry to bother you at home.”

  “It’s no bother, it’s not like I have a job,” Ford answered, but not in a menacing tone. Sadie had the impression that he was keeping his aggression in check so he could hear himself think. As if he’s too curious to be angry.

  He gestured Mason toward the couch and sat opposite him, tense and expectant. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls,” Mason said. “I was out of range until last night, but first thing this morning I went to the job site, and you’re right, there were—are—some treasures.”

  Ford stared at him while he spoke, and Sadie knew he was genuinely baffled. What’s this guy doing at my house, being nice to me? was the first question pinging around his brain. Almost instantly it became What does he want from me? and finally ended as He’s going to try to rip me off. It was like a tragic opera, Sadie thought, the way Ford could interpret the most benign gesture as something harmful.

  Not knowing he’d just been cast as a villain in the Life of Ford Winter, Year 19, Mason said, “I came because of these,” setting on the trunk one of the medallions with the carved birds that Ford had salvaged. “And this.” He pulled out a large city plan and laid it over the map Ford had been using to search for Bucky.

  Without waiting for Ford to say anything, he went on. “I have a vision of what this area could be. Farmers’ market, skate park, fish hatchery, plus housing, an arts center. Three new schools.” His hands moved over the dark blue plan, which covered a light blue rendering of the existing area. “I need someone like you to help me bring it to life. What do you think?”

  Sadie realized she was holding her breath. Mason was offering Ford a chance to work on the kind of thin
g he dreamed of, what he fantasized about when he should have been concentrating on the laws of the road. Would he run with the opportunity, or would he find a way to destroy it?

  Ford turned on the light and glanced at the map. “I think it’s a nicely updated version of a plan someone proposed five years ago that never got finished.”

  Copernicus, who had been making a circuit of the room, put his head in Mason’s lap. “You don’t think it’s feasible?”

  “People lose interest,” Ford said, looking away into the shadows, and it was clear to Sadie he was talking more about himself than City Center. “This may be a game to you, but it’s not a game to the people who live here.”

  Mason rubbed his hands through his hair as if trying to come to a decision. “Ten years ago yesterday my whole family was killed in a car crash. I was twelve and inherited a lot of money, but I was angry and miserable and only thought about myself. Basically, for a long time I was a spoiled brat. I feel like it’s time for me to reverse that. Give something back, do something meaningful.” Mason scratched Copernicus behind the ear. “Something that will be meaningful to other people too. It’s not a game to me.”

  Ford studied him. “Why City Center? You’re not from here.”

  Mason blushed. “There’s, ah, also this girl.”

  Sadie felt a pop of surprise from Ford, but he kept it out of his voice. “From Detroit?”

  Mason blushed even more. “She lives here now. She’s beautiful and smart and wants to change the world. I want to impress her.”

  Ford frowned. “By rebuilding City Center?”

  “She’s hard to impress.” Mason blinked earnestly at Ford from behind the lenses of his glasses. “Will you help me?”

  Ford leaned toward the map. “If you’re serious about doing something meaningful, you’re going to have to scrap all that”—he waved a hand casually over three-quarters of the plan—“and put in things people really want.” He grabbed a pen. “May I?”