Continuance (3 page)

In the chamber, the arms rotated
faster, causing the man’s face to flicker like an ancient nickelodeon. The
waves tracking his lower brain functions fluttered wildly as if to fight off
the GRaLE’s inexorable advance, then fell flat. Seconds later, his vitals did
the same. Lindsay flinched as the man convulsed, his back arching as he heaved
against the force restraints. Then he was still.

The GRaLE’s arms slowed, then
halted as a digital chime sounded from the console. 

Neuromap Capture:
100%

“Now he’s gone, too,” Lindsay
said. “And that’s all I need to know about him.”

Immense maples painted the ribbon
of sidewalk in dappled shade as Jason wove his way through a sea of backpacks
and bicycles. Another student among thousands, he made his way across campus,
drawn like an iron filing through the slow churn of a magnetic field. Around
him, the halls and towers of UC Everton steered and buffeted the ebb and flow,
indifferent to the masses streaming around and through. The oldest buildings
felt almost like old friends – stately sentinels in retro-futuristic buffs and
creams with flowing curves and ranks of dark-tinted windows. Though less
familiar, the newest were even more majestic, their open and transparent
designs reminiscent of gigantic glass origami.

Reaching over a shoulder, he
retrieved a pair of glasses from his backpack. When he slipped them on, the
oval lenses covered his eyes precisely and polarized from transparent to dark.
Decades back, they would have looked like any other pair of shades, down to the
tiny
Ray-Ban
logo printed on one lens. Except near the ends, the
earpieces forked with a thin extension that hovered over each ear – stereo
speakers. The AP in his pocket sensed the action and linked up with the display
overlay embedded in the smartglasses, switching to personal assist mode. A readout
sprang to life in the upper periphery of his field of view, translucent green
letters seeming to hover in the air in front of him as he walked:

9:07 AM Mon. 8/26/2089

New Messages: 7

68° F. Traveling WSW

SocialNet Online Friends: 36

Jason let his gaze linger a
moment on an entry in his contact list and blinked once – an eyeclick. The
words expanded and morphed into a small window, along with a 3D photo of a man in
his early twenties with dark, curly hair. His eyes, blue like afternoon sky,
hinted at some untold joke, as did the broad smile frozen there.

“Good morning?” Jason infused the
greeting with a question.

Stuart’s Gallihugh’s animated
voice came through the earphones, “I don’t know about this morning, but it was
a good night. I might just get used to this racing scene of yours. Fun way to
waste an evening, even if I do feel like hell today.” His parents had moved to
the States from Dublin when he was a young boy, and his time there had left him
with the slightest trace of an Irish accent. A neuro major like Jason, they’d
met last year taking Mechanics of Cognition, and it wasn’t long before they’d
arranged to get an apartment together.

“Well, you must have been up
bright and early anyway,” Jason said. “Your bed was already empty by the time I
managed to drag myself out of mine.”

“Faulty assumption. Especially
for an aspiring scientist.”

Jason sniffed. “Alright,
enlighten me…” But the obvious conclusion hit him. “Wait. You were never
in
your bed last night.”

“See? Now that’s closer to what
I’d expect from you.”

“I guess it really
was
a
good night then,” Jason said. “What was her name?”

“Ivory.” Jason could almost hear
the grin in Stuart’s voice.

“That raven-haired girl you were
with at the track?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what you
think. I went over to her place after the race, yeah, but all we did was talk.”

Jason laughed. “Nice.” When
Stuart said nothing, Jason’s smile faded. “You’re serious. Talk.”

“Almost all night,” Stuart said. “And
about almost everything. She’s…” he seemed to grope for words. “…not what I
expected.”

“You mean skin-deep eye candy?”

“Right – not that I would have
minded that. Anyway, after a few hours of small talk, we even got to the
important stuff.”

“Such as?”

“Beer. She’s a lager girl, by the
way.”

“Wow,” Jason said. “Doesn’t she
know talking beer with an Irishman is tantamount to meeting his family or asking
how many kids he wants to have?”

“I know, right?” Stuart laughed.

The path had taken him close to
one of the science halls, and Stuart’s laughter took on the timbre of a faint
echo from the front of the building while still coming through the earphones. Responding
to the sound, Jason turned around as he walked, backpedaling a few steps. The
dark, curly hair and blue eyes in Stuart’s photo, still displayed on the
overlay, became superimposed on the face of the person approaching from behind
in an almost perfect match.

“Looks like I just ran into your
clone,” Stuart said, the echo of his voice still coming through the earphones.

A prickly flash of adrenaline
made Jason stiffen.
Clone?
Had he been too obvious at the race last
night? He’d made sure not to win by too wide a margin, but maybe Stuart
suspected something anyway?

 The chat link terminated and
Stuart’s photo faded away. The flesh and blood version that remained broke into
a lopsided grin. “Yep. Has to be a clone. I remember being out at the track
with Jason till three, and you look way too awake to be the same guy.”

Jason relaxed, relief tempered
with annoyance at himself for being paranoid. “Can’t say the same for you. At
least you made it to the apartment to get cleaned up.” Stuart’s half-collared
shirt was similar to Jason’s, but instead of a vintage band name from the
2060’s, the front of Stuart’s echoed his heritage - a superman logo in green,
with a shamrock where the S should have been. “I’m surprised I missed you,”
Jason said.

“The autonav’s pretty clear
today, so I had time to run back for a quick shower.” He gave Jason a sidelong
glance. “You left something lying around, though.”

“Sorry. Did I leave the RealiSIM
out again?” Jason tried to make his voice nonchalant, knowing full well Stuart
wasn’t talking about the entertainment system.

“You’re such a bum puddle. Not
photonic. Female. I didn’t introduce myself, but she was still asleep, so I
assume she didn’t mind.”

Jason had thought the girl would
be gone by the time Stuart showed up. “Don’t worry. I can introduce you later.”

Stuart snorted. “If you remember
her name.”

Jason put on a pained look. “So I
don’t hold a deep and personal interest in this girl? Is that what you’re
saying?” Then, in his best southern drawl, he said, “I find your insinuations
deeply insulting, sir.”

“I think you mean
accurate
.”

Jason gave an exasperated sigh
and concentrated. Calling up the fragmented memories of the night before, he
reached
into a space beyond, searching. More fragments were there, and his mind
assembled them, almost of its own accord as the perks took hold.

“Katelynn,” he said. “Katelynn
Carilla Perez. Want more?” The details were crystal clear now. “She’s a senior
here at Everton. Communications major, but hates watching TV. Not into sports,
but likes racing and tennis. Maybe I’ll give her a call to see if she wants to
play doubles with you and Ivory.” He raised an eyebrow at Stuart, allowing
himself a smug smile.

For a reply, Stuart darted in
front, jolting him to a stop him with an outstretched hand to the chest. He
furrowed his eyebrows, peering at Jason’s face as if reading his thoughts.

Jason rolled his eyes. “What? So
no tennis then?”

“
What?
Impressive trivia,
but we both know you have no intention of calling her is what.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I
know
,” Stuart
said. “I know
you
, and that’s enough. What was it this time? Your
horoscope tell you to stay away from gorgeous brunettes with any trace of
bikini model potential? No? What then?”

Jason couldn’t help but think
that as fun and interesting as Stuart was, maybe he should have opted for a
less perceptive roommate. Now that he’d pulled last night’s memories together,
he remembered it all. The roar of his car’s engine at full throttle during the
race. The pulse of loud music and the intoxicating taste of Katelynn’s lips
later on. He remembered waking up this morning while she still slept, letting his
gaze drift from her face and trail along the smooth, tan skin of her back and
legs, interrupted only by the folds of the white sheet draped loosely across
her hips. But most of all, he remembered that as the last night had worn on and
he’d gotten to know her a little, he’d felt a familiar buzz growing in his chest.
One that had nothing to do with the drinks or pure physical attraction – the
budding tingle of something more. A connection. Which was what he’d wanted to
forget.

She’s probably a
great girl. What if I could be happy with her? What if I’m just throwing it all
away again?
No. His time with Katelynn had been enjoyable as far as it went, but Stuart was
right. There would be no phone call.

“She’s not my type,” Jason lied.

They rounded a
bend in the walk, and their destination came into view. A concave ribbon of
glass and steel half a dozen stories tall, the Novella building sat above a
small plaza. Clear blue sky and white clouds played in reflection across its
mirrored windows, and a wide flight of flagstone steps fronted the entrance
before fanning down to a fountain in the plaza’s center. Compared to the
bustling center of campus, the traffic had thinned out here, leaving only a few
scattered students, many making their way into the building.

“Then what
is
your type?” Stuart asked as they climbed the steps. “Books and beakers? I think
you’re crazy, but if that’s what you want, you should scope things out in class
this morning.” A glass door slid sideways to admit them into the building.

 “Right,” Jason
said. “How long have you been a neuro major? No way we’ll find one that looks
like Katelynn or Ivory in here.”

Stuart shrugged
as if to say, “
If you say so,”
as they scaled a curved stairway toward
the upper floors. “By the way, I don’t know how you talked me into this. They
say Fairchild’s a veteran ball buster.”

It was Jason’s
turn to shrug. “Can’t argue with that. Ten percent of her lower division
students drop her classes – and I hear the rest wish they had.”

“But you think
this lab internship will be worth it?”

“
Definitely.”
Just
not for the reasons you think.
For access to Arkive – and maybe Michelle –
sticking out a semester under a tough prof would be a joyride on autonav.

Inside, several
dozen students sat in small groups around tall, octagonal tables. A device that
looked something like a cross between a microscope and a coffee maker rested in
the center of each. The far wall was glass from floor to ceiling, offering a birds-eye
view of the campus. Near the walls at either end of the room, the projected
image of a large photoscreen read,
“NEUR 3010 Bioinformatics. Fairchild”
in a slow three-dimensional scroll.

Stuart headed
straight for a table occupied by a girl with dark hair and milky white skin.
Jason elbowed his roommate, ready to concede he’d been wrong about finding any
attractive prospects in class. But then she saw them, and shot Stuart a winning
smile. Jason recognized her.

“Hey, Ivory.”
Stuart slid into the seat beside her as he gave her a hug. “You remember
Jason.”

“The speediac
from last night? I remember,” Ivory said, still leaning close to Stuart.
Dressed in faded synth-denim jeans, she wore her hair pulled back in a
ponytail, bangs swept to one side. Jason hardly recognized her from the night
before. He’d only seen her for a quick introduction after the race – wearing a
diagonal-cut miniskirt and a tight-fitting mid-drift top. Today, she
looked…different. “Sweet driving, and with a car that old, too,” she said.

 Jason had no
time to reply as the door opened to admit a woman in a business suit of forest
green and cream. Her shoulder-length silver hair was cut in a layered style, framing
a face with fine features. Though Jason knew from her bio she was in her mid-seventies,
she carried herself with an air of focus and energy. The murmur of conversation
died away as the students in the room noticed her enter.

“Who has a copy
of the syllabus?” Her tone was congenial but drew every eye in the room. A guy
near the front raised a hand as she stopped by the transparent front wall and
touched a control surface. The glass darkened to near-opacity, leaving only a
hint of the view that had been there a moment ago. “Would you mind reading the
first sentence of the course description for the class?”