Sadie spent the next two days immersed in CAT scans, MRIs, fMRIs, electrocardiograms, radiocardiograms, blood tests, hearing tests, vision tests, and tests for strength, endurance, and respiratory health. There had also been basic self-hypnosis tips and a course on “Maintaining a Mental Notebook,” since they would have to memorize all their observations while in stasis. Sadie and Flora had been assigned as a team in an exercise the second morning of orientation, and their tension from the first day had been overpowered by the shared goal of winning.
“Three o’clock,” Flora said as they walked away from the coffee cart near the stasis chamber. “Only an hour left of orientation.”
Sadie blew on her coffee. “I wish we could start Syncopy tonight, without going home.”
Flora raised an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t you want one more good makeout session with Pete?” She stopped herself. “Sorry, I forgot you only have eyes for Hot Curtis now.”
Sadie laughed. “Speak for yourself.”
Flora shook her head. “Catrina is more my type.”
“I’m afraid you might not be hers,” Sadie said apologetically. “I think she and Curtis are a couple.”
Flora waved that away. “For expediency, maybe, but not really. Trust me.”
Sadie wasn’t sure. She’d gotten lost the previous night on her way to dinner and ended up in the oval room with the Stas-Cases. She’d been walking the perimeter looking for corridor G when she heard voices and realized it was Curtis and Catrina talking.
As she came up Curtis was saying, “I’m simply suggesting we consider protection.”
“Protection,” Catrina sniffed.
Sadie stood rooted to the floor, unable to move.
“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Curtis said emphatically, “but we need to be careful. Minimize the risks. I want to make sure we’re safe.”
“I understand. It just feels like you’re pushing me away.” Catrina’s tone was measured and cool, but obviously it didn’t mean she didn’t care, just that she was thoughtful. Sadie wished Pete or her father could hear her. Maybe then they’d understand that not everyone oozed emotion.
Curtis was soothing. “You know that’s not what is going on. I’m doing this for us. And it’s only temporary.”
Snapping back into her conversation with Flora, Sadie said, “I overheard them talking, and they definitely seemed to be involved.”
“Maybe for now,” Flora said with a shrug. “Nothing lasts forever.”
Sadie laughed. “I’ll concede if you’ll tell me how to get to office D-210.”
Flora turned Sadie so she was facing the direction opposite the one she’d been about to walk in and said, “Go straight past three corridors and turn left. I’ll see you in the Survaillab for closing remarks.”
“If I find it,” Sadie said.
Flora’s instructions were perfect, and Sadie was pressing the admittance bell next to D-210 at exactly three o’clock.
The appointment had appeared on her TrackUPad that morning with no explanation, so she didn’t know what to expect. She felt a surge of pleasure when the door slid open and she saw Curtis sitting with his feet on a desk, in the middle of what sounded like a personal call.
“Just steer clear, that’s all I’m asking.” He motioned Sadie into his office. “This isn’t the time for one of your little games.”
His desk was sleek and modern in dark wood, the two low chairs facing it at precise right angles covered in buff suede. Three brightly colored old-fashioned tin wind-up toys in the shape of a tiger, an elephant, and a bear playing the cymbals sat on one corner of the desk, and a computer sat on the other. Behind it hung a framed vintage poster from the movie Metropolis. The space felt warm with a hint of edge, just like Curtis himself.
He gestured Sadie into a chair facing him as he got off the phone, then smiled an apology. “Sorry, family drama. How has orientation been? I don’t think I’ve been lucky enough to catch sight of you since that first day.”
Sadie willed herself not to blush and said, “Orientation has been somewhat disorienting, actually.”
He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “That sounds about right. And I’m afraid I’m only going to exacerbate that.” His feet came off the desk, and he leaned across it toward her.
“Why?” Sadie asked, trying not to get distracted by the pleasantly subtle scent of his cologne.
“We don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll cut right to it. I’ve decided to start an elite program within Mind Corps, and I want you to be part of it.”
Sadie suddenly had no trouble focusing. “Elite in what way?”
“We’re selecting a few Fellows to be Minders for Subjects who have been tagged as high risk. Either they’ve been arrested and served time, or they’ve come close. By targeting them, we want to understand how crime can spread from an individual to blight an entire neighborhood. But Syncopy with these Subjects exposes Minders to strains others don’t face. So we’re only picking the best of the best.”
Sadie’s heart thudded against her ribs. “What kinds of strains?”
“These Subjects are more likely to repress their feelings and memories than deal with them. Repression is like a magician, using smoke screens and big spectacles to distract you from its secrets. That takes a lot of work, so these minds may be more unstable, more like living in a minefield.” He paused. “The other difference is that instead of being posted in an unfamiliar community, your Subject would be here in City Center. Only a half hour from your home. Which means we would need to rely even more heavily on your maturity and integrity.” He leaned back. “What do you think? Would you be comfortable with that?”
City Center.
Impressions from her photography class trip flooded Sadie’s mind. She remembered passing houses, stores, and skyscrapers that had been completely abandoned, whole neighborhoods silent except for ghostly wind; other streets so densely packed with people that the sidewalks spilled into traffic and the intersections became a matted knot of cars and people, the air thick with curses and honking.
Their bus had gotten caught in one of those intersections, and Sadie was staring out the window when a fight broke out between two guys. A clot of people formed around the fighters, and between the heads of the crowd, Sadie watched them pound each other. Raw, visceral energy came off them in waves so potent that she’d felt them even through the double-paned window of the bus, making every sensation, every color, more intense.
What would it be like to experience that firsthand? she asked herself now. The sensation of knuckles cracking against bone, of fury overriding all reason, of being filled with so much powerful emotion.
She remembered the beautiful ruin of the building they’d photographed earlier that same day. Remembered standing on the edge of the seventeenth floor and forcing herself to look down, fingers of panic closing around her throat, making her struggle for breath, petrified with fear.
Not, as she’d told Curtis in her interview, because she was afraid of falling. That was a lie.
It was jumping she was afraid of. Becoming so numb she didn’t care any longer.
Now, sitting in Curtis’s office, she realized she was nodding. She said, “Yes. If you’re asking would I be willing to go through Syncopy inside the mind of a criminal, the answer is yes.”
Curtis held up a hand. “A potential criminal. Not hardened, not yet, but still the kind of person I’d tell you to steer clear of if you were my sister. I want to be certain you really understand what I’m asking. This person will be almost your exact opposite. Someone with no respect for rules or laws, possibly no code of conduct or loyalty, and very likely a disordered internal landscape. There’s a high probability of violence. Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”
“Absolutely.”
“Details will be crucial. To understand the hidden power dynamics of City Center, we’ll need you to pay close attention not only to your Subject’s internal Mindscape but also the external landscape. Assoc
iates, friends, enemies, the strengths and weakness of alliances.”
“Of course,” Sadie said. She hesitated for a moment, then blurted, “Why me?”
Curtis tented his fingers on his desk and locked his eyes on hers. “Because your father is wrong. You’re not too serious. You have a gravity about you, but that’s different. It’s what sets you apart. And why you are going to be so very good at this.”
Sadie was speechless. She would have laid down her life for Curtis at that moment.
“Come on,” he said, pushing back his chair and standing, “Let me walk you to the Survaillab. You’re far too valuable to risk losing, and from what I hear it’s statistically unlikely you’d find it on your own.”
She laughed and said, “Thank you,” and from the smile he gave her in return she was fairly sure he knew she wasn’t just talking about the directions.
• • •
The Survaillab was a wide, raked room terraced with long tables partitioned every two feet into a series of linked cubicles. A Mind Corps technician greeted Sadie at the door, looked at her badge, and said, “You’re number nine. Second row at the end.”
Sadie waved at Flora and took her seat. Inside her personal cubicle was a screen that was blank except for the number nine.
When all the cubicles were filled, Curtis appeared at the front of the room. “Congratulations. You’ve done the hard part. Now all that’s left is for you to lie around for six weeks.”
There was a collective chuckle.
“Several of you have asked for information about your Subject: their name, age, basic things. I told you to wait. This is not the moment you’re waiting for.”
A few nervous laughs. “We’ve learned it’s better for all of that to come out organically during Syncopy. But there is one thing you can’t learn while you’re on the inside.” The lights dimmed, and the individual screen in front of Sadie popped to life.
She was looking at a busy city street clogged with cars and buses. An elevated train ran above it, making a clatter, and on the ground horns honked incessantly. The street was a jumble of stores, crammed together like too many teeth in a mouth—Huang’s PawnIt, DollarDollarDollar, Your Neighborhood Drug—with a fenced-in playground on the corner.
“These are CCTV feeds of each of your subjects from the past week. It is the only time you’ll see them from the outside.”
Sadie scanned the image. The playground was empty, but the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians and vendors selling sunglasses and toys. She was wondering how she was supposed to tell who to look at, when the camera angle began changing, pulling in and focusing on one figure. He was wearing a blue jacket and had broad shoulders, but that’s all she could see because he was standing with his back to the camera, staring into the empty playground.
He’d been there all along, Sadie realized, but she hadn’t noticed him because, unlike everyone else, he was standing still. Now his head came around, as though in response to someone calling his name, and the camera pulled in on his face. Almost as if he sensed it, sensed her, he looked right into the lens, and Sadie’s breath caught in her throat. He had dark hair, the faintest trace of stubble on his cheeks and chin, and eyes that were incredibly blue.
And incredibly angry.
The image cut out, but the eyes seemed to hover in front of her, burned into the monitor.
• • •
As she pulled out of Mind Corps and turned toward home, Sadie kept seeing Subject 9’s eyes in front of her.
“There’s a high probability of violence,” Curtis had said during their meeting. “Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”
She’d thought she’d known what she was agreeing to. But now, having seen those eyes, she realized she had no idea. The darkness behind them was unfathomable.
And by this time tomorrow, she would be at the center of it.
CHAPTER 4
At a little before one P.M. the next day Sadie lay in the Stas-Case and took her last glimpse of the oval room. It had taken three hours to attach all the sensors and run diagnostics, but she was finally ready.
Or her body was. Because as the minutes of preparation had inched forward, she’d found herself becoming more and more convinced she was making a mistake.
She felt a hand on her arm through the stasis suit and saw Curtis to her left.
“You ready?” he asked.
No! she tried to tell him, but the mouth guard she was wearing made it come out as a gurgle.
She grabbed his hand and looked at him desperately.
“You’re afraid,” he said. “That’s normal. Statistically speaking.”
She glared at him.
“I’m not bullshitting you. More than seventy percent of Minders report having second thoughts before they enter stasis.” He leaned close to her. “But there’s nothing to be afraid of. This is only shallow stasis, you’ll be out in a week for evaluation, and if you need to get out sooner you have the panic button. Can you feel it?”
She concentrated on her left hand, then nodded. The biohaptic gel her body was encased in made sensations harder to read.
“Good,” Curtis said. “You can keep it right there in your hand the whole time. Remember, it has a failsafe built in, so you have to squeeze it three times before Syncopy will be terminated. The first time will put the system on standby, the second will set it to ready, and the third will complete the process and sever your stasis connection. That way you’ll never have to worry about doing it by accident. Do you understand?”
Sadie nodded. She felt calmer.
Curtis smiled. “The computer is going to count backward from nine. As it does, let your mind wander back through what you did last night. Reviewing recent memories will help the circuits build a bridge between your mind and your Subject’s. When you hear ‘one,’ open your eyes. You’ll be there. Okay?”
Sadie nodded again. He leaned out of view, and she heard him say, “She’s ready, Cat.” Near her head a computerized voice announced, “Counting down to Syncopy. In nine . . .”
Sadie’s heart rate spiked, and a monitor near her began to beep. Curtis was back, his gaze holding hers, saying in a soothing voice, “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re going to be great. Take a deep breath and close your eyes, and I’ll see you in a week.”
She let her eyelids slowly come over her eyes.
“Good. Now think back to last night. You left here and drove home. You turned onto your street, and the first thing you saw was—”
“Eight…”
—Cars everywhere. Sadie’s normally quiet street had been clogged with cars when Sadie got home. She knew why when she pulled into her driveway and saw a girl in the burgundy uniform of her mother’s preferred valet service standing under a white umbrella.
Her stomach had dropped. Her parents were having a party. They must have forgotten that they’d said they would have a quiet dinner, just the three of them. Or forgotten entirely about her coming home.
“The hostess asks that guests enter through the front door and then make their way to the pool,” the valet said.
Sadie wondered which of her mother’s charities this was a fund-raiser for. Not that it mattered; she had no intention of going. She would go straight upstairs to her room and call Decca.
Ignoring the valet’s instructions and hearing nothing from the backyard, she turned left before reaching the stairs and followed a path lined with glossy-leafed lemon trees around the side of the house. The white globe lanterns her parent’s landscape architect had designed for outside entertaining were lit, and mirror-topped café tables had been arranged beneath the arbor that ran along the swimming pool. There was a small stage for a band at the far end of the pool, but no band on it. It was like a stage set, Sadie thought—PARTY: CASUAL, EVENING—everything straining in hushed readiness, but no guests. They must still have all been inside.
Between the house and the pool were three long rectangular tables covered with white cloths. One of them was set up as a
bar, and the other two looked like they would hold a buffet. Each of them was decorated with an ice sculpture of a walnut.
The sculptures aren’t even very good, Sadie thought as she skirted the tables and made for the door. They looked more like brains than walnuts.
“SURPRISE!”
People burst from under tables, behind lemon trees, beneath the stage. Sadie took two steps backward and would have ended up in the pool if Pete hadn’t caught her.
“I’d say she was surprised,” her father said to her mother. “Guess she’s not made of stone after all.”
“Smile, darling,” her mother said when she leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. “Everybody likes the smiling girl.”
“Seven…”
Sadie remembered Decca appearing a quarter of an hour later, her dark skin glowing in all the candlelight. She’d thrown her arms around Sadie, and while they posed for pictures said through her teeth, “You’re completely miserable, aren’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?” Sadie asked, smiling.
“Only to me.” Decca got serious. “Do you want me to start a fire so everyone has to be evacuated?”
Sadie suddenly felt much better. “No.”
“Say ‘not yet,’” Decca told her. “It’s best to leave your options open.”
“Six…”
Sadie remembered Decca disappearing “to chat with that nice man at the bar” when Pete came up and slipped his arm around her.
“Come here, there’s something I want to show you,” he’d said, too loud, drawing her into the shadows next to the pool house and kissing her.
The air was warm and heavy with the citrus scent of the lemon trees. She’d reached up, twined her fingers in his hair, and pulled his mouth hard against hers. The kiss was deep, intense, and long. When they separated, Pete stared at her, breathless. “It’s nice to know you missed me.”
“Of course I did,” she told him.
“So how was spy camp? Learn all the secret handshakes? Get asked out by a lot of nerds?”
Before she could stop herself Sadie snapped, “It wasn’t like that.”