GLAZE (10 page)

He takes a long drag and blows a cloud of smoke into my face. When I smell it, I don’t think that’s only tobacco he’s smoking.
 

Ryan finally breaks the silence. ‘Yeah, and now there’s that annoying “are you sure you want to reveal this?” overlay. Like we don’t know what we’re doing.’

‘You don’t know what you’re doing,’ Logan says, taking another drag.
 

I have to hide my smile. ‘That was Zizi’s doing. My mother,’ I explain, when Logan looks quizzically at me. ‘She brought that security in. She said something about false trust and oxytocin.’ I stop speaking.
 

Logan’s brow furrows. ‘Your mother? Who’s your mother?’

‘Yo, that’s what I was about to tell you,’ Ryan says. ‘Petri, tell him who your mum is.’

I look from one boy to the other, wondering whether I should tell them.

 
‘Zizi Quinn,’ I say.
 

Logan points at the headset at Ryan’s feet. Ryan throws it to him and Logan puts it back on his head. The wires on the headset blend into his dreads, so I can’t see where it begins and he ends.
 

He blinks, and in a matter of seconds all the screens are filled with various images of Zizi: articles she’s written, interviews given. A piece from
Wired
about her being one of 2015’s women to watch: ‘hacker turned corporate visionary’. Her hair was longer then. That photo was taken the day of my school play. Yet another thing she didn’t bother turning up for.
 

‘Your mother is
that
Zizi Quinn?’ Logan asks. ‘Now that
is
interesting.’
 

‘Not for me it’s not,’ I mutter under my breath.
 

‘Aren’t you chipped?’ Ryan asks Logan.
 

‘Of course I’m chipped, man.’

‘Then why the headset? It’s like, obsolete.’

‘Because sometimes I want access through a back door. Make it tricky to track me.’

‘But the only way to access Glaze is with a chip, isn’t it?’ I ask, wondering if I’ve missed something huge here.
 

‘True. True. But it doesn’t have to be your chip.’

‘You’re piggybacking someone else’s chip?’ I ask.
 

‘You’re smart,’ he says, gesturing to me with the tip of his joint.
 

‘Then whose?’

He looks over at a dog I didn’t notice before. It’s curled up on a pillow next to a large speaker.
 

‘No way!’ I kneel down and take the dog’s small face in my hands, looking into its bulging brown eyes. They look back at me, empty. It could be brain-damaged. Although it’s hard to tell with spaniels.
 

‘Wait,’ Ryan says, finally catching up. ‘You chipped your dog?’

‘All you need for access is warm brain matter. It doesn’t exactly monitor the quality of thoughts being broadcast. If it did, the majority of people hooked up would be in trouble.’

‘That’s incredible,’ I say, stroking the dog’s soft ears. ‘But what about the ID.’

‘Simple.’ With a wave of his hand, the images of Zizi change to show a picture of a young man.
 

‘Liam Fox. My big brother. Not the big brother currently in prison, with whom no one messes. The other one,’ Logan says. ‘The one who died of SIDS when he was three months old, which was nice of him. So all I had to do was delete his death certificate, create a life for the past eighteen years, a bit of Photoshoppery to make an up-to-date photo of him, and I have my very own ghost to ride.’

‘Ghost riding,’ I whisper. I’d heard of it a while back but never really believed it was true.
 

‘Is that where celebs get people to write books for them?’ Ryan asks.
 

‘Riding. Not writing, you nob!’ Logan says.
 

‘How did you get your hands on the chip? WhiteInc say their stores are the only place you can get fitted.’
 

I know almost everything there is to know about the chip. Like most of these things, the tech originated for military use in the west. But when WhiteInc adapted it for the commercial market, it was mass-produced in the east. China, Korea and Taiwan was where most of the chips were made. There had been some PR scandal a few years back involving suicides in one of the company’s factories. An undercover journalist sneaked in to try and cover the story and hadn’t been able to get out for three months. She said it was like a concentration camp behind the gates.
 

When the story hit, Zizi flew over there to sort it all out. When she returned she looked older. Like she’d seen too much. She and Max had lots of arguments, first via Glaze then in person over our dinner table. In the end, the factories were closed and new ones built. Now, they were shining examples of best practice for multinational organisations. And Zizi was seen as a champion of workers’ rights in the corporate world.
 

‘Ways and means, kid,’ Logan says. ‘Ways and means.’

I smile thinking what she would make of this. She would go totally Metro.

‘You don’t have to use an animal, of course. It works even better with a human to bounce off, if they’re willing to let you. Coma victims work well. Or people desperate enough to let you rent their brain by the hour. And some people will do anything for money. But I like to have my ghost with me. Portable like. Don’t I, Proxy?’ he says in a cute, baby voice to his dog.
 

‘What are you talking about?’ Ryan asks,
 

‘Ghost riding is where you piggyback someone’s signal on to Glaze,’ I say, standing up. I don’t think I like the sound of this. ‘Is it what you plan on doing with us?’
 

‘No, for you, Petri Quinn, I have other plans.’
 

He looks back at the screens. They’re now filled with pictures of me. iSocial profile, school ID, birth certificate. I turn away from the heavy blank next to ‘Father’s Name’.

Logan claps his hands together and the images vanish. ‘Juicy,’ he says. ‘I think we can do business.’
 

I don’t like the glint in his eyes. ‘You’re not going to hurt my mother?’

‘Of course not. I only want an eeenie weenie something of hers to help with an ongoing project of mine.’

‘Like what?’

‘Her DNA.’

I am still angry with Zizi. For not pulling strings I knew she could. For turning yet another tragedy in my life into a piece of PR about her. For always putting her job before me. But I wasn’t ready to betray her. Not yet.
 

I shake my head.
 

Logan looks disappointed. ‘Well, if you’re happy never getting on Glaze...’

‘What do you mean “never getting on”. I’ve only got a five-year ban and after that I get on. That’s what they said.’
 

‘And you believed them, did you?’ Logan says. ‘Have you read the small print in the Glaze contract? No one with a record is allowed access. Not even a CDO.’

‘Bull,’ I say. ‘There’s no way a Civil Disobedience Order would be enough to keep someone off Glaze for life.’

‘Swear. It’s part of some government crap to stamp out terrorism and anti-social behaviour.’
 

He pauses to let this sink in. I don’t know whether to believe him. I mean, why should I believe him? I can’t believe him. I shake my head.
 

‘Shame,’ he says. ‘We could have made a great team.’
 

‘Hey, what about me?’ Ryan says, his bottom lip sagging. ‘What do you want from me?’

Logan blinks and looks at him like he’d forgotten he was even here. ‘Well, I could ask for that video that got you banned, but everyone’s already seen it.’

Ryan’s eyes widen.

‘What video?’ I ask. ‘Did you film the riot?’

Logan snorts with derision. ‘He didn’t tell you? Why he got kicked off?’

Ryan is shaking his head, staring daggers at Logan. ‘Don’t man. Seriously,’

Logan doesn’t seem to care. ‘He got banned for sharing a video that contravened WhiteInc’s decency rules.’

‘What kind of video?’

‘Seriously. Shut up.’

‘Of him and his girlfriend.’

It takes awhile for the pieces to fall into place. Ryan and Amy. Ryan and Amy.

‘Oh,’ is all I can think to say.
 

‘“Oh” is right,’ Logan says. ‘Boy, if I let a video like that get loose my woman would dust my ass.’

Ryan glares at him. ‘Shut up, man. How did you know anyway?’

‘Hey, there are no secrets on Glaze. One of my comrades acquired it.’
 

‘But it was only seconds before I realised I was streaming. A minute tops.’

‘A minute is a long time. Especially when someone loops it.’ Logan blinks and a video of a girl laid out on a bed starts playing.
 

Her face is contorted, so it takes me a while to realise it’s Amy. She’s groaning.
 

Ryan hides his face in his hands. ‘Oh, god. Ohgodohgodohgod.’ He says, over and over. ‘Make it stop.’
 

Logan blinks and the image of Amy freezes.
 

There’s a buzzing in my ears and a strange, hot weight in my stomach, like I’ve swallowed a lump of coal. All I want to do is get away from both of them. I head for the door.
 

‘Petri, wait, let me explain.’

There are no locks on the door. I bang on the wood, softly at first, then with increasing urgency as I sense Ryan coming up behind me.
 

‘Can you let me out, please?’ I shout louder than I mean to.
 

‘Come back when you have something to sell.’
 

‘But I don’t have anything,’ Ryan says.
 

‘Shame. Six months is a long time.’

I can smell Ryan’s aftershave behind me. Close. Too close. He’s looking back at Logan trying to think of something he can trade.

‘I start to bang harder. ‘Out. Now. Please!’

The door clunks and I wrench it open, scraping my knuckles against the wall as I do.
 

‘Come back when you have something worth my time,’ Logan shouts. The game starts up again: men screaming and guns being fired.

9

‘WAIT!’ RYAN SHOUTS
down the corridor.
 

I punch the down button on the elevator over and over, as if that will somehow hurry it up. It eventually arrives, but I don’t even get the satisfaction of Ryan having to shove his hand between the doors to stop them from closing. They’re still wide open by the time he catches up with me.
 

‘Petri, let me explain. Please,’ he says stepping inside. Before I have a chance to get out the doors finally decide to close.

‘I don’t know what you mean. You don’t have to explain anything to me.’ I stare at the floor and wish that it would open up.

‘The video was a huge mistake, but like I told Logan, I didn’t know it was streaming. It happened a couple of days before the riot, but I, well, I didn’t want Amy to find out, so I’d been pretending I was still hooked and, God, it was exhausting. So at least that’s one thing I don’t have to keep lying about.’
 

‘Hey, it’s not like you put a video of me for the world to see!’ I laugh stiffly. ‘Not that you would ever make a video of me like that.’ I laugh harder like it’s all one big joke and I’ve been an idiot. It sounds utterly unconvincing and I wish I could shut myself up. ‘I mean, it’s not as if someone like you really needs to explain yourself to someone like me. It’s not like we have anything in—’
 

Ryan finally does the job I wish my brain could have done. He shuts me up. With a kiss.
 

It’s hard and unexpected. I’m still mumbling as his lips press against mine, but finally I stop and give in.
 

It’s not how I had imagined it. And believe me, I’d imagined kissing Ryan McManus.

There’s no sound of birds from way off or tingling in my stomach. My feet remain firmly on the ground. I’m aware of how dry his lips feel and how odd it is when his teeth bash against mine. I’m also thinking about the chewing gum I saw on the metallic walls behind me that my head is now being pressed against. In all, it’s a relief when the doors finally slide open and we’re back on the ground floor.
 

Ryan steps away from me. His eyes closed and a dumb smile on his face. He lets out a long sigh. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for ages,’ he says, finally opening his eyes.
 

‘Umm.’

He reaches out and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. ‘So, am I forgiven then?’

I nod.

‘And Amy doesn’t need to know about the video?’

‘I… er.’

‘You’re amazing, Petri.’

I guess this is how you’re supposed to feel after your first kiss. Dazed and lost for words. I thought I’d be happy. Giddy, maybe. Mostly I feel weird and acutely aware that I want to get out of this tiny, stinking metal box and away from Ryan.
 

He steps in for another kiss.
 

‘I have to go,’ I say, stopping him with a hand to his chest. ‘Zizi’s going to go mental if I’m not home soon.’

‘Oh, sure. OK then.’ He follows me out of the elevator and through the doors to the fresh air outside. ‘I’ll cycle you home.’

‘No, that’s fine,’ I say, taking in a deep breath of the cold air. ‘I can walk from here.’
 

‘Oh, OK.’ Ryan’s fiddles with his bike chain as I start walking at my top speed towards the exit. ‘I’ll catch you at school then?’ he shouts after me.

I raise a hand behind me in acknowledgement and start walking even quicker.
 

So that was kissing, I think as I make it out onto the street. What’s all the fuss about?

I have to walk three streets till I find a bus stop where the buses will actually stop. It’s getting dark and I’m in an area I only know as the place you’re not supposed to be in after dark. I could call a company car to pick me up. Only it will be logged and then Zizi will want to know what the hell I was doing here. Finally a bus pulls up and it’s heading in nearly the right direction so I hop on.
 

It’s packed with commuters and a few kids coming home late after some extra-curricular activity or other, so I can’t find a seat. I squeeze myself between a man with a large rucksack and a boy with a cello, and hold on to the pole.