Etherworld (15 page)

“So what now?” Zoe asks. “Do we take him to the hospital?”

“The doctors still haven't figured out a treatment,” Avery says, annoyed. “And even with all these incidents, they can't even prove that Elusion caused any of it.”

“That might not matter,” Zoe explains. “My father got a call from another investor who told him about nanopsychosis.

The word is spreading through the ranks. Who knows, they could pull the app off the market any minute now.”

Avery coughs up a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, really? Then why did Cathryn give a statement herself last night assuring everyone that Elusion is safe and they're releasing it nationally as planned? The bastards at the CIT were right there with her, standing by her side.”

“So
you
weren't the one who released the info from the memo?” I ask.

Avery shakes her head. “I wanted to, but I always check with Josh first. I tried texting him earlier, but he didn't answer, so I just thought he was tied up with you.”

Patrick.
He has to be the one alerting the stockholders about what's really happening. Maybe he's plotting some kind of sneak attack on Orexis that will force them to stop the national release of Elusion in a couple of weeks?

“So what do you want to do, Regan?” Zoe asks.

“I think we need to keep Josh here, hooked up to the Equip, and monitor him closely.” I place my hand on his chest and feel the rhythm of his heart under my palm. “My dad says that once the program is destroyed, everyone who is trapped in this trance state will wake up.”

Avery props her hands on her hips. “So we just sit here and wait?”

“I can't stay,” I murmur. I slowly pull myself away from Josh and stand up, my legs unsteady. “My dad is being held hostage at Orexis. I have to find him.”

“Good idea. Then the police will get involved and blow this whole scandal wide open,” Zoe says.

“Yeah, and maybe the cops will do more to help us find the missing,” Avery says hopefully. Then she gives me the once-over and scowls. “But how're you going to get into Orexis covered in dust and wearing your pajamas?”

“I brought her some clothes, Avery, so chill.” Zoe smiles and holds up the tote.

“What I don't have is a passcard,” I say. I used my dad's to sneak in once before, but it's at my house, and I can't go back there now. Mom will be looking for me, and so will the police.

“I have a passcard with clearance,” Zoe says, pulling one out of her jeans. “All I had to do was dig through two suit pockets.”

“Wait, are you saying you—?”

“Borrowed this from my father? Yeah, sure. That works.”

I'm amazed by Zoe's abundance of foresight. She is coming through in ways I never would have imagined.

“I hate to piss on this happy moment,” Avery says, smirking at Zoe, “but your dad's passcard is only going to get Regan into the building. I doubt he'll have access to the room she needs.”

Zoe's face falls, as she realizes that Avery has a point. “Where is your father exactly?” she asks me.

“He's in one of the research labs.”

“Shit,” Zoe says. “Dad's card is probably only good for the executive suites and some of the conference rooms.”

“If I can get inside, maybe I can steal a passcard from someone else,” I say. It sounds ludicrous, but I can't afford to lose faith now.

“That's the worst plan in the world,” Avery says, right on cue. “And even if you found someone else who has access to the labs, Cathryn probably had Bryce integrate some kind of special code into the lockpad.”

“Look, we all know how great you are at shooting ideas down, but why don't you try coming up with a solution for once?” I snap.

“You want a solution? I'll give you a solution.” Avery pulls her tab out of her jeans. “I'm going to call Giblin.”

“Who the hell is Giblin?” Zoe asks.

“A guy I know,” she replies. “He's got connections that we could use right now, and he owes me one, so he'll help us out.” She wanders out into the hall, typing on her tab, and I glance over at Josh, my stomach tying into a knot. I try to remember that Avery is his friend, and that without her, we never would have broken into the QuTap I placed on Patrick's quantum computer at Orexis the other day. I try to remember when he told me that we were going to get through this together.

The room seems empty all of a sudden, even though Zoe is standing next to me, watching me stare at Josh. But then the quiet is smashed when I hear Avery calling out to me from the other room, her voice booming.

“Congratulations! I just saved your ass!”

Ten minutes later, I go into the small bathroom at the end of the trailer and change into Zoe's clothes, yanking on a pair of jeans that are about a size too small and an inch too long. The hooded knit sweater she gave me doesn't fit right either—there's a lot of room in the chest—but at least the fabric is extra soft and almost like fur. The boots she lent me are perfect, but the heel makes them a little impractical. I'm just glad not to be in paper shoes and a gown anymore.

I glance at my reflection. It's funny—I've spent a good chunk of the last eight hours unconscious from either trypnosis or hospital drugs, and yet I don't think I've ever been this tired. I could probably curl up on the floor right here and fall asleep for days, but I won't let the fatigue set in. I pinch my cheeks so hard I turn them pink. My eyes snap open a little more too, as my thoughts wander back to the last time I was holed up in a bathroom.

It was the other night. At my house.

Josh and I had just returned from our first trip to the Mount Arvon Escape, where we'd shared a kiss inside an ice cave that looked as if it had been built out of frozen emeralds.

I touch my mouth, remembering how it felt to have his lips pressed against mine, his hands gripping my waist, the warmth of his breath on my face. I'm startled by a hard knock on the door, followed by the loud roar of a truck's engine.

“Hurry up in there,” Avery barks. “He just pulled up.”

I step out of the bathroom, expecting to see Avery outside, waiting to harass me some more, but she's already welcoming Giblin, a tall, lanky, baby-faced guy with a ponytail longer than mine. He's wearing a ratty blue T-shirt and has ink-black hair, a piercing in his left eyebrow, and a tattoo of a Chinese dragon on his forearm. In his hand is an industrial-size brown duffel bag that could easily fit a dead body.

He notices me and juts his chin out, which I guess is his version of a hello. “Did you order the house call?” he asks, his voice not as rough as I thought it might be.

“I guess,” I say.

Avery waves me over, and I come a little closer as he sets his huge bag down on the floor. “Gib, this is Regan Wel—”

“I know,” he says, locking eyes with me. “I saw that video of you and that billionaire on the Net. What's life like in the nuthouse?”

“Uh, pretty awful.” I glare at Avery. The last thing we need is someone knowing who and where I am, but she just shakes her head at me like she's certain he won't tell anyone.

“I brought the Turbo. It should only take a minute to warm up, and less than five to make the piece,” he says, crouching down and unzipping the bag. Then he pulls out a big insulated box, which he opens very delicately. Inside is a thin, sleek, rectangular machine that he places on Josh's coffee table.

“Nice three-D printer,” I say, kneeling in front of it to get a better look. “That's the smallest one I've ever seen.”

“This one isn't even out on the market yet,” Giblin brags.

I squint at him. “Then how'd you get it?”

Avery swats me on the arm. “Rule number one: Never ask Gib how he gets anything.”

“What's rule number two?” I ask.

“The less you know about me, the better,” he replies, grinning. “So Avery says you need a fake passcard with a custom semiconductor chip. That right?”

I look at Avery and she's standing there with a smug grin on her face, but it doesn't bother me one bit. In fact, I smile back at her, grateful that she thought of this. Additive manufacturing is everywhere these days, but making phony passcards with 3Ds is illegal, especially ones with embedded chips that have the power to do things like crack lockpad codes. Possession of a fake passcard is a felony. Still, it's the best way to get inside Orexis and to the lab where my dad is being held, so taking this risk is totally worth it.

“Yeah, that's right,” I say.

Giblin presses a couple of buttons on the printer and a low humming sound begins to emanate from the machine. Then he pulls out his tab from his back pocket and begins typing on it.

“Okay, let's talk credits,” he says. “I'm thinking two thousand will cover it.”

“Two
thousand
?” Avery says, aghast. “What the hell, Gib? Are you trying to price-gouge us?”

“Sorry, but that's the cost of high demand.” He sets his tab down next to the printer and then cracks his knuckles. “You're going to pay extra for an express order and at-home delivery.”

“This is bullshit. You know you owe me a favor,” Avery says.

He shrugs. “I can knock off five hundred, but that's the best I can do.”

I tug on the sleeve of Avery's jacket and we take a few steps back while Giblin inspects the printer.

“Do it,” I say. “I'll figure out a way to get him the money.”

“That's really steep,” she says.

“There are lives on the line here. I don't care. I'll get the money somehow.”

Avery nods and heads over to Giblin, sticking out her hand. “Okay, we're in for fifteen hundred. Deal?”

“Deal.” Giblin gives her a shake and me a polite nod. “Now comes the fun part.”

He reaches into the insulated box and brings out an egg-shaped container filled with wet, cream-colored putty. It's the compound that makes the mold. Giblin puts it into a tray in the back of the printer and closes it. He digs in the box again and takes out a cellophane envelope containing the gold semiconductor chip, which is so tiny I can barely see it. He puts that into another compartment and uploads the product design with his tab, and then we watch as the printing process begins. The low hum raises an octave or two, but the machine is much quieter than any other 3D I've seen.

“So here's the thing,” Giblin says as the printer goes to work. “This will be state-of-the-art merchandise, and I can guarantee it will get the job done. But some lockpads might have codes that are harder to bypass, so it might take anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute for the card to crack it, depending on the tech sophistication.”

“That's no good,” Avery says. “She needs instant access, not this time-delay crap.”

Giblin raises a pierced eyebrow at me. “Instant access, huh?”

I don't even bother responding. I just keep my eyes on the printer and envision myself walking into room 5020, like my father hoped I would do a week ago. I feel a surge of determination rising within me.

This is going to work.

“The chip is top quality. It'll worm it's way through some nasty stuff, so don't worry,” Giblin reassures us.

“What about security systems? Will the semiconductor set off any kind of alarms?” Avery asks.

“No, it should be undetectable,” he says. “Like me.”

Minutes later, a tray slowly opens from the front of the printer, presenting us with a fresh, new, white passcard that looks completely real. Giblin takes it and gives it to me, the plastic warm in my hands.

“You can wire me the credits. Avery has my info. If I don't the payment in the next two hours, I'll send someone to look for you. And he won't be as friendly as I am,” he says, narrowing his dark eyes at me.

“Consider it done,” Zoe says, walking out of Josh's bedroom. “I just wired the credits to Avery. She'll make sure you get them.”

“Zoe . . . ,” I protest.

“It was nothing,” she says. “Seriously. My dad can pay me back. It's the least he can do.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“The pleasure was mine,” Giblin says, quickly packing up all his equipment into his duffel bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “Avery, nice seeing you again.”

“But you were never here, right?” she replies.

He smirks and says, “You know me. I'm never anywhere.”

Then he darts out the front door of the trailer and into his truck, which growls to life and speeds off into the early morning darkness.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

ZOE PATS ME ON THE LEG. “SO ONCE WE get to the building, you're going to use the side door, right?”

We left Zoe's car with Avery and we're sitting side-by-side on the Traxx, zooming over patches of pre–Standard 7 shift traffic. I'm attempting to disguise myself by wearing Zoe's obnoxiously large Florapetro glasses, but it doesn't seem to matter. Even though it's only five in the morning, and the train is already half full of people, they're zoned out, eyes closed with Equips on, their bodies swaying with the turn of the train.

“Right,” I reply. We're going to use the door where I met up with Cathryn the other night. It's the most hidden of all the building entrances, and because it's rarely used and not open to the public, it's not guarded. I glance nervously out the window. The Renaissance Center looms in front of us, the tower lights at the top of the titanium building gleaming in the black sky.

“Thanks again for the whole Giblin thing,” I say.

“Of course. What are friends for, right?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod and slight smile. Up until today I wouldn't have referred to Zoe as a friend, but she's proving herself to be just that. “Do you think Avery will be able to hack into the security cameras?” I ask, getting back to the matter at hand.