Eden (5 page)

"Eden," Apollon says.  "Thank the gods.  We
need some nuts.  Now."

I cross my arms and smile as my eyes adjust to the darkness
and find Apollon, standing toward the back, hovering over a muttering Jack. 
"I thought we already had a couple," I joke.

Apollon walks toward me.  "I'm serious," he says,
though his voice drips with amusement.  "This is a nut emergency.  We've
tried counting rocks.  Bottle caps.  Even orange seeds.  But apparently no one
is allowed to sleep until there are nuts."  He grabs me by the arms and
shakes me—albeit gently, for Apollon.  "Nuts, I say."

"
You
are a nut," I laugh, and I'm
completely grateful for his nuttiness.  "But I'll get you nuts, if any can
be had.  Promise."

In the back of the tent, Jack's muttering gets louder.

Apollon and I exchange a worried glance.  Maybe I shouldn't
make light of the situation.  I pause, then walk outside and look around.  A
couple of people walking by eye me nervously.  I gesture to them to come
closer, and they approach.

"Would it be possible to get some nuts around
here?" I ask, thinking they can direct me to the right place.

"Peanuts, pecans, almonds, walnuts, coconuts?" One
of them asks immediately, almost before I have the question out.

"Uh... whatever's easy," I say, then rethink a
little.  "Something in a shell."

"We'll bring some right away, Lily," the second one
says.  There's an eagerness in her voice, and a little smile that flickers
across her lips as she glances at her friend.  They make off at a near run.

Apollon hollers after them, "Coconuts!  Bring some of
those!"

I look at him.

He grins.  "Jack will lose his mind over
coconuts."

"I'm pretty sure he's already lost it," I murmur,
and we glance back into the tent where we can still hear our crazy friend
muttering to himself.  "Is he alright?"

Apollon looks serious for a moment, but he says, "He
will be, when he gets some nuts."

I nod and tug his arm.  "I need to talk to you."

He groans, but he lets me drag him along until we find a
quiet space by the wall where we can sit in the sunshine.  "I don't really
want to have this conversation," he says.

I settle onto the ground, cross-legged, and watch him take a
seat across from me.  "Well, you're going to, damn it.  I have an apology
to make.  And you're going to listen."

Just when I'm thinking it's going better than can be
expected, he looks away from me, and all the awkwardness comes rushing in.

"Listen," I whisper, leaning forward to take his
hands,  "it's not that I didn't trust you.  I just wasn't ready to talk
about it.  I still don't know if I am."  But of course I should have told
him that I was once Lily.  He was going to find out, wasn’t he?  Why did I
leave it to be a slap in the face?

He yanks his hands away, places them back in his lap, and
fixes me with a hard look.  But he doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," I say.  "I know I should have
confided in you.  I never meant to hurt you, or to make you feel like I
wouldn't include you—"

"Include me?" he laughs.  It's a bitter laugh,
half mocking.  "Is that why you think I'm upset?  Because you didn't
include me?"

I stare at him, my mouth open.  "...It's not?"  A
sudden wariness comes over me, and I remember Jonas' words:
He's more
bothered than you think
.

Apollon is shaking his head.  "Idiot," he says. 
"For someone who can read people like a book, you miss a helluva
lot."

I take a deep breath and let it out, closing my eyes.  My
voice comes out a whisper.  "Explain it to me.  Please."

Apollon mimics my deep breath, then pauses.  Finally, he
explains it to me, his words coming out calmly at first, but growing in
emphasis and emotion as he goes on.  "You know how close Jonas and I are. 
How important he is to me.  You know I would never do anything to hurt him. 
And I just thought I was doing what was best for both of you.  I didn't want to
see you get tangled up with him.  But I didn't have the whole picture.  I
didn't know that you—that you were her.  And I made him think that we were
something, when we're not.  When he's been looking for
you
all
along."

I take another breath, and try to push down the emotion. 
"I didn't think it mattered," I say, though I know that sounds
stupid.  "I mean, you said he would break my heart.  I believed you.  You
know him so much better than me.  So it's not like it would have been
different.  I mean, it's not like it ch—"

"I didn't know who you were!" Apollon blurts out. 
"You idiot.  You still don't see it.  I told you he'd break your heart
because I
knew
that he only wanted one person—the person that turned out
to be
you
!"

Again, I'm sitting with my mouth open.  The realization
washes over me, with all its implications.  I
am
an idiot.

A silence sits between us.  When Apollon manages to speak
again, his voice is gentler.  "I just wanted to look after you.  Now I see
that it was a bad idea in the first place.  A stupid one.  Now Jonas thinks
that I want you—that I want the girl that he's been desperate to find for
almost four years.  And how do I even begin to apologize to him for that
betrayal?"  His voice has gone dark and quiet now.  "How do I take
away that hurt?"

The weight of it floods over me, full of sorrow but tempered
by a quiet joy.  I can't help that it's there.  I can't help loving Apollon,
loving Jonas, for the way they love each other.  I understand, now, what I've
done to him, and I need to make it right.  But I'm still scared.  "I'm
sorry," I manage again.  "I would never come between you two.  You're
my family.  You're everything to me."

Apollon's eyes sweep from the space between us up to my
face.  "You have to tell him," he says.  "He deserves the
truth."

I almost leap out of my seat, though I manage to keep myself
there, only rapidly adjusting my legs, unfolding them, swinging them out and to
the side.  I wrap my arms around my knees and stare at my feet.  "I
know," I whisper.  "I just... I'm afraid.  I'm not ready for all
this."

Apollon sighs, and his hand finds my shoulder.  We look into
each other's eyes.  "You have to."

I nod and pull away from him, climbing to my feet.  I need
to get going while I'm still impacted by this conversation, or I might lose the
courage.  I turn and walk away while Apollon is still climbing to his feet.

"Hey Eden," he calls after me.

There's a lightness in his voice that makes me smile, even
before I turn back and see his grin.

"If that shirt gets any thinner, you're going to have
to watch out that a spider doesn't try to move in."

"Yeah, yeah," I wave him off and keep going, but
I'm grinning, too.  Just a bit of normalcy.  That's everything I wanted.

Chapter 5: Problematic

Unfortunately, Jonas is not alone.  I should have expected
it, I suppose.  Spec was obviously waiting for us on the terrace this morning
and I sent him back to Jonas.  Now, Jonas, Spec, Celine, and some guy I can't
place are all sitting together on the terrace.  They fall silent when they see
me coming.

I try to ignore the fact that they're all looking at me.  I
lock eyes with Jonas, "I need to talk to you."  I'll be damned if I'm
going to let this one slide.  I owe it to Apollon.  To Jonas, even.

But he's already shaking his head.  He reaches up and takes
me by the arm.  "Ede—"  He catches it and corrects himself. 
"Lily, this is Coder."

Now my eyes fall on the new guy.  Young, wearing sungoggles
with extra-thick lenses—probably to correct his vision.  There's also some
swivel-thing attached to one side, but who knows what that's for?  The way the
strap sits around his ears, it messes up his brownish, spiky hair.  He shifts
uncomfortably under my gaze.  So this is the genius behind my madness.

I beam a smile at him.  "Nice to meet you.  Again.  Now
if you'll excuse us..."  I reverse Jonas' grip on my arm, pulling him up,
but he doesn't budge.

"Later," he says, and he tugs me down beside him. 
Before I know it, I'm perched on the edge of the chair.

I throw Jonas a quick glare, then look at the others. 
"What's so damned important that it can't wait?"

Spec opens his mouth like he's going to say something, then
rethinks.

My gaze sweeps over them.  Coder, frozen in place.  I think
he might wet himself.  Celine, looking bored with my dog's nose across her
feet.  Its eyes peer at me sideways as it thumps its tail.  Not like it's going
to tell me anything.  I raise my eyebrows at Jonas, but he's not offering any
answers.

"The chip in your head, Frankenstein," Celine
says, drawing out the syllables as though they amuse her.  I turn my gaze on
her and she gives me a mocking little smile.  I narrow my eyes, but it doesn't
seem to faze her.

Before anything else can be said, Spec launches into a
reasonable-sounding explanation.  "We need to retrieve the information you
went after.  If anyone has any doubts, they're certainly not going to argue
with what you've accomplished."

Ah.  The downfall of the Sentries, and all that.  Well, I'm
all for no more Sentries, but I don't see why it can't wait a few minutes.  I
open my mouth to be difficult about it, when Jonas nudges me gently with his
elbow.

He leans close to me.  "Let's just get this over
with," he murmurs.  "Whatever it is, we'll talk soon.  Promise."

I scan his face, then manage a small nod.  "Fine,"
I say, switching my gaze to Celine, then Spec, and finally Coder.  "How
does it work?"

Coder clears his throat.  "There's a machine.  We just
need to plug you in."

"Plug me in?"

He nods.  "It won't hurt.  Just some electrodes on your
head."

I'm not sure I like the sound of it, but I'm pretty sure
I've been through worse.  I shrug and climb to my feet.  "Lead the
way."

We all head down the stairs and through the streets of
Wynwood.  A kaleidoscope of peeling paint colors leaves a rainbow trail of
flakes on the broken sidewalk.  Down into the streets, it’s much the same as
elsewhere, only more vibrant.  Airy.  In between gusts of balmy salt air,
there’s the smell of people.  We step over a beggar sleeping on the sidewalk. 
He’s part of the landscape, along with the lurking prostitutes, roaming gangs
of teens looking for trouble, and slavers herding their wares toward the
marketplace.  But we walk along without a care.  From Spec and Celine’s
mannerisms, I get the feeling that we’re safe.  Untouchable.

People do double-takes when they see us.  Some of them
point, wave, or smile.  Along the way, we accumulate a small crowd of dirty
children that trails in our wake, whispering and giggling to each other.  When
Jonas glances back at them, the one he makes eye contact with squeals, and then
there are more hushed giggles and excited whispers.

"You're famous," I say to him, though my voice is
disinterested.

He tosses me a look.  "So are you."  He steps
closer and takes my hand as we walk—he's better at remembering the charade than
I am.  The kids seem to really like that, judging by the wispy swirl of voices
behind us.  The smiles we get from adults are a little different, too. 
Knowing, or even adoring.  It would be sweet, if it were real, but for me it's
bittersweet at best.  More likely depressing.  I try to tuck the emotion away
inside me, but it feels like so much pressure building in my chest.

Spec leads us past some guards into a large, open-roofed
warehouse.  Inside are row upon row of orange trees.  Some of them are still
blossoming, and some are laden with oranges.  The air is fresh with the mingled
scents of flower, fruit, and earth.  I breathe it all in as we walk straight
toward the back.  We're just passing through, it turns out, but I really want
to linger.

"This is like the one that burned," Jonas murmurs.

Celine glances back at him, but says nothing.

"You two used to spend a lot of time here," Spec
says, though he keeps walking.  "I guess you liked the trees."

I already knew that—felt it.  The smell is like heaven,
peaceful and invigorating at the same time.  I ache as we reach the back of the
building, go through a room with a large, twisty machine, and out another
door.  There's a smaller building in the back, connected to the first by a tall
fence on both sides.  We go in—there are some more guards, but they let us pass
without question—and through a series of rooms, then down a hall.  Finally, we
enter a small room.  Coder turns on an aether lamp to reveal another large
machine and some chairs.  A reclining chair rests in the center of the room. 
Presumably my seat.

I don't wait for them to invite me, but climb in.  The whole
thing makes me nervous—it's similar in arrangement to the VR machine that Matt
had, minus the restraints and body fluid stains.  Still, I'm not feeling very
eager to be the guinea pig here, but if I don't suck it up, I'm afraid I might
chicken out.  So I settle into the chair, take a deep breath, let it out, and
then another one.

Celine and Spec are settling into chairs at the edge of the
room, but Jonas foregoes a seat in order to stand by me.  He retrieves my hand
and holds on tight.

I give him a look—I suppose I was thinking we're out of
public view now, but Celine and Coder are still here, I suppose.  Jonas wears a
look of genuine concern, though, making me realize that his hand-holding is
real
Jonas, not pretend Jason.  Jonas my friend.  My family.  Suddenly, I feel
safe.  My whole body relaxes.  I give him a little smile.  He squeezes my hand
and smiles back.

"It's not going to kill me or anything," I tell
him.  "Right, Coder?"

Coder glances at us, though his main attention is on
adjusting dials and sliders.  "No," he says.  "It won't kill
you.  It won't hurt.  Just a small electrical current.  You've done it lots of
times before."

"See."  I squeeze Jonas' hand again.  He's
worried, despite the reassurance he's trying to offer me.

"I know."  His voice is low.  His hand is
sweating.  Or is it mine?

Coder begins attaching electrodes to my head—just in front
of my hair line, and along my neck.  I close my eyes, force my body to stay
relaxed, and repeat to myself:
It's not a VR machine, it's not a VR machine,
it's not a VR machine.

"Is it like a VR machine?" The words come out
before I can stop them.

Coder snorts.  "It uses some of the same technology. 
But no.  This is a direct interface to the chip in your brain.  You won't
experience anything more than a slight tingling."

It's not a VR machine.
  I let another breath out. 
Slowly.  Then I flash a big grin at Jonas.

"Here we go," Coder says, reaching for a dial.

"No worries," I squeeze Jonas' hand one more time as
a little tickle moves up my neck.  My fingers twitch against his, jerking
tighter, tighter.  Then it's my whole arm.  My whole body.  My eyes roll back
in my head.  The darkness is vibrating.  All of me is vibrating.  Convulsing. 
I'm choking.  Can't breathe.  Voices are shouting, screaming, but I'm so far
away.  The wave of panic passes by me quickly.  I lose touch with it.  With
everything.  I'm afloat in a haze of nothingness, and I no longer care.

***

The voices make their way back in, soft, murmuring all
around me.  They're blurred and slurred at first, and I have a sense that I've
been away, like I've been asleep and dreaming, though I can't remember the
dream.  My body is heavy and I can't move, but I don't really want to.  I'm
tired.  So tired.  Gradually, I feel the sensation of warmth, of someone
breathing against me, and I realize that I'm lying in someone's arms,
half-propped in a lap.  The memories materialize, too, strangely with little
alarm attached to them.  Whatever it is, I seem to be alive, and I'm pretty
sure I'll be OK.  I breathe deeply and allow myself to rest for long moments. 
I must be in Jonas' lap—the arms around me are so comforting.  Voices begin to
come into focus—words and tones of concern.  I need to open my eyes, let them know
I'm alright... but it seems like it will take so much effort.  Just a moment
more.

Something warm and wet runs down my cheek.  Am I crying? 
How can I be crying with my eyes shut?  No.  Someone else is crying and their
tears are falling onto me.  Jonas.

I breathe in and open my eyes, all at once.  Blinking, I
focus on the person hovering over me.  It's not Jonas.

"Oh, thank god," Celine whispers, her voice and
her arms around me trembling.  She strokes my face, and her fingers, too, are
shaky, barely able to trace a path without skipping around.

I stare up at her with wide eyes.  She's the last person I
would have guessed would be shedding tears over my condition.  Her face is
slightly out of focus—everything is out of focus, which makes me wonder if I'm
dreaming.  I look around, blinking rapidly, and find Jonas at my other side,
giving me a bit of room.  His hand is on my arm, and he looks a bit pale, but
he's not crying.  No, Jonas wouldn't cry over me.

Behind him, hovering, are Spec and Coder, speaking quietly. 
Their words are too much to take in right now.  Maybe I'm still half asleep.

"It's OK," Jonas whispers, leaning a touch
closer.  "You're OK.  Can you sit up?"

I can't even shake my head.  Well, I probably could, but I'm
so
tired.  I close my eyes again.

"Eden," Jonas whispers, his grip on my arm
tightening.

"Leave her alone," Celine commands, drawing me
closer.  "She needs to rest."

A little sigh leaves me, and I'm falling into sleep—real
sleep this time.  I feel so safe—so incredibly safe—so I give in and let my
body have its way.

***

When I wake up, I feel rested and normal, though I have a
bit of a headache.  I yawn and stretch my spine before I realize where I am. 
When I open my eyes, Celine is looking down at me.  She helps me sit up.  We're
on the floor, and it looks like I've been in her lap all along.

"How long was I out?" I ask as Jonas crouches
beside me.

His voice is soft and dark and full of concern.  "A
couple of hours.  How do you feel?"

"Fine."

He clasps my arm and helps me to stand.  In truth, I'm a bit
shaky, but it's not so bad.  He's still steadying me when I turn and offer my
hand to Celine, who is struggling to get up.  Her legs must be entirely asleep
after sitting there for all that time.

She gives me a grateful smile as she climbs up.  Jonas
realizes she's wobbly, too, and offers her his other arm—the one that's not
trying to hold me up.  I manage to loosen his grip on me and move away,
stretching my legs, while Celine hangs onto the chair I was in when this all
started.

Coder and Spec are on the other side of the room, and they
still have their heads together in whispers, though they're looking at me now.

"What went wrong?" I ask immediately, running my
hands through my hair.  "That was obviously a little more than a slight
tingle."

Coder's face goes red and splotchy.  He won't meet my eyes. 
Instead, he looks at the machine, fiddles with one of the dials. 
"Something has happened to the chip."

"Something?  Like what?"  I glance from him to
Spec.

Jonas steps closer to me, takes me by the arms.  "We
think that another machine has damaged it," he says carefully.

I frown up at him.  "But if this technology is based
off of VR technology..."

"Not that."  He swallows and strokes back my
hair.  His voice drops to a whisper.  "In Saint Louis," he says. 
"The test."

My stomach turns, immediately rejecting the memory.  Not the
utter pain of the test itself, but the memory of what I did to save us. 
George.  Alarm must flash through my eyes—Jonas must see my question.  Did he
tell them?

He gathers me into his arms and pulls me into a hug, then
whispers in my ear.  "Just the machine.  Nothing else."

I relax a bit, but I'm still angry.  I've guarded that
memory.  I'm not ready to share it, to talk about it—to even think about it.  I
just want to forget that it ever happened.  I pull away from his arms and put
on a blank face.  "You said damaged.  Not destroyed."

Now Coder turns and looks at me, murmuring, "Not
destroyed."  I have this odd feeling that he lives half inside himself,
and now is one of those times when he's more in his brain than with us.  He
shakes himself.  "I think the information is still there.  It's just...
not accessible to us.  Not this way."

"OK..." I'm starting to get a little impatient,
and I wish they'd just explain it all.  Obviously they've been mulling this
over for a couple of hours, but they seem hesitant.  That makes me nervous.