GLAZE (30 page)

I’ve asked for my normal clothes, but they keep bringing me these white cotton trousers and tunic tops with the WhiteInc logo on it that make me look like a masseuse. They never bring me shoes, so I walk around everywhere barefoot.
 

I visit Zizi every day and there’s no change. She’s still staring at the picture of the boat, which someone has put back on the wall. Nurse Catherine, I guess. I’ve taken to spending a lot of my day in her room, chatting with her, telling her all the things I never got a chance to. I tell her about school and Kiara and Pippa and Ryan. I even tell her about Ethan. It’s the most we’ve ever talked.
 

There are other people like Zizi here. Eighteen victims from the attacks. I’ve seen some of them being wheeled around by the nurses when the weather is nice. They sit, unmoving, their faces turned to the light like sunflowers. They give me the creeps.
 

I asked Catherine if I could see Kiara. But all she will tell me is that the few teens affected were being treated somewhere else. But that they were showing signs of improvement. I don’t know whether to believe her.
 

‘How many people in total?’ I’d asked.
 

‘Thirty-six.’
 

Thirty-six lives ruined because of me. I can’t think about it. I can’t
not
think about it.
 

Christmas comes and goes without much fuss. I paint a picture of a flower on a sheet of paper and replace the picture of the boat with it. It’s not very good, but I think Zizi would like it more.
 

Max sends Natalie down with my present. A retro tab—the very first model WhiteInc ever made. I give him nothing.
 

With the tab I have limited access to the internet. No email or social media allowed, apparently as part of my rehabilitation. But I can read the news. There’s no report of the victims. The attack has become yesterday’s news, replaced with speculation about an early election being called. Harris, it seems, is leading the polls by a huge margin.
 

The first thing I did when I got access was run a search for Ethan Fisher, hoping to maybe find some way of getting in touch with him. Sure they were probably monitoring my usage, but I had to risk it. There was nothing there. Not a single result. Just like before.
 

Max hasn’t been to see me again, not since Ryan came. So I haven’t had the chance to confront him over Logan. I’m not sure I ever will now. I don’t think I even blame him anymore. I’ve come to hate Logan nearly as much as myself.
 

I’m on my bed one morning, reading a book I found in one of the patient’s rooms. I don’t think he’ll miss it too much.
The
Count of Monte Cristo
. I struggle with the language at the start, but slowly I get into it. I’m reading the scene where Edmond has found the island of gold when there’s a knock on my door.
 

Max doesn’t wait for my permission to open it. ‘Good morning, Petri. And how are we this fine day?’ He places a mug of coffee on my bedside table, like always. I fold over the corner of the page to mark my place and put the book next to the mug.
 

I look behind him. Jonathan is hovering outside the door, Natalie is nowhere to be seen. I wonder if she’s been fired.
 

I cut to the chase. ‘Can I go home?’ It’s the same question I ask every day.
 

‘The nurses say you’re doing great. A few more days.’
 

‘That’s what they said a few days ago.’
 

‘We have to make sure your brain has fully healed and that there hasn’t been any lasting damage.’ He walks around my room, looking at the blank walls and stops next to the vase of flowers. They’re replaced every day. Today, they’re magnolias. ‘We arrested Dr Hwang, you know? The day we found you.’

I had guessed as much. But I try not to let my face show anything. ‘Oh.’

‘Our investigation into his work has been most disturbing. You know he was responsible for the deaths of 30 people? We’re lucky we found you in time.’
 

Thirty? Hwang had said sixteen. Which means either Hwang was lying then, or Max is now.
 

‘What did you do to him?’
 

‘Do to him? What do you mean? We arrested him and handed him over to the police.’

‘But I thought you didn’t work with the police.’
 

‘They still have their purposes. And we’re not in the business of punishing people.’

‘Tell that to Logan and his friends.’ I can’t look at him as I say it, too afraid that if I do I won’t have the courage to speak.

‘That was different, Petri. They were armed.’

‘They were a bunch of kids.’

‘Kids with guns.’

‘You’re lying!’ Logan didn’t have any weapons, I was almost sure of it.
 

‘We had no choice.’

I remember the sign from the front of the building. Choice is all. ‘There’s always a choice.’

‘No, Petri. Not always.’ He walks over and picks up the book. ‘Good book?’

‘It’s educational,’ I say, thinking of Edmond planning his escape.
 

Max thumbs through the pages, his eyes flickering as he accesses data on the book. I worry he may take it from me, in case it holds the secret of my way out of here. ‘I never seem to have time to read these days,’ he says, his eyes clearing. ‘And of course, with Glaze, I can stream all the information.’
 

‘It’s not the same,’ I say. There was a time when I would have been happy never to pick up another book in my life, when all I wanted was to have access to all the information, all the time. But there’s something about holding a book in your hand, about feeling the roughness of the pages as they pass through your fingers. The words have weight.
 

‘Maybe so, maybe so,’ Max says. ‘But different does not always mean better. You’ll learn that when you’re on Glaze.’

‘I don’t want to be chipped.’ It’s the first time I’ve had the guts to say it to him. I pick up the mug to hide my shaking hands.
 

Max looks down at me and smiles, his indulgent smile. ‘Come now, Petri. I know you want on. You wanted it so badly you had that nasty nanovirus injected your body. Don’t play games now.’

‘But I’ve seen what it’s doing to people.’

‘And what is it doing?’ he says, calmly, like he was helping me with my homework.

‘People are changing,’ I say.
 

‘Of course they are!’
 

I’m so taken aback that he doesn’t deny it I spill hot coffee on my sheets.
 

He laughs at my surprise. ‘Glaze makes us all more aware of our connection to the rest of society. Makes us more aware of our responsibilities towards each other. It bonds us. It was always a hope of mine that it would have this positive effect. It has far exceeded my expectations.’

‘You wanted this?’

‘I wouldn’t say wanted. Hoped for.’

‘It’s not right.’
 

‘Not right? Why not? What’s wrong with people being kinder to each other? Look at our society before Glaze: the greed, the selfishness. It was all about the importance of the individual. Now, things are changing. People are learning what it’s like to be a part of something bigger than themselves. Part of—’

‘A family?’ I say, spitting the word at him.
 

‘Yes,’ Max says, confused at my outburst. ‘A family. Tell me how that is a bad thing?’
 

I put the mug back down. ‘At the start, when you and Zizi were thinking of names for Glaze, you were going to call it Panopticon.’

He laughs. ‘Oh, coming up with a name was one of the hardest bits. Your mother had lots of ideas. The Well. The Hive. I was quite keen on Trinity but it didn’t go down well in research.’
 

‘I looked up what Panopticon means,’ I say, ignoring his attempt to sidetrack me. ‘It’s a prison. Where everyone’s watching everyone.’
 

‘Well, yes, but Glaze isn’t a prison.’ He laughs again, like the very idea is absurd. ‘But if people feel they are being watched it helps them make the right decision. The one they really want to make. Did you know if you place a picture of a pair of eyes next to an honesty box—where people can take what they want and leave what they think is fair—people will act more decently? Well, with Glaze, it’s deeper than a photo. More real. It brings everyone into a state of awareness. Helping us all be the best possible people we can be.’
 

‘You’re better together?’

‘Exactly.’ He finally places the book down.
 

‘And what about the people you’ve decided aren’t fit to join your family? What happens to them?’

Jonathan coughs from the doorway. Max clearly has somewhere more important to be.
 

‘I do enjoy our chats, Petri,’ Max says. And with that, he spins around and leaves.
 

After my angry heart slows, I pick up the book again and find the page I had marked. I try reading, but it’s too slow. Everything Edmond does is too slow.

Wait and hope
.

I’m too impatient to wait. So all I have is hope.

I leave my room, and
The Count of Monte Cristo
, and walk outside.

27
 

THE AIR CHILLS MY LUNGS
as I take deep a breath. It smells of frost and decaying leaves, despite it being five degrees warmer than it’s supposed to be at this time of year. Unseasonably warm for late January. That’s what the media says. Unseasonably. Like it’s conspiring against us.
 

It will be my sixteenth birthday in two months. Max came to see me today to tell me he’s made arrangements. ‘We’ll be fitting you with the latest model,’ he said. ‘The perfect birthday present.’
 

So I get chipped, go home and live on my own. Everything I always wanted.
 

A bird chirps overhead and I watch it fly by. The barbs of the security fence peek through the leylandii hedges that surround the compound. I wonder, are they there to keep people out, or us in?

Today was the first time I’d seen Max in weeks—even then it was just a flying visit before he had to go to give yet another interview. He’s been too busy with the upgrade to bother with me. People queued overnight to be the first to have it downloaded. There was footage on the news of men and women huddled on pavements in sleeping bags, their faces red from the cold and excitement.

The wind picks up and I pull my gown around me to block out the chill. My feet are still bare and the cold from the damp grass is leeching all the warmth out of me. I turn to go back inside. It will be lunch soon.
 

Petri
.
 

I hear my name called and look around. The grounds are empty. It must have been the wind or the buzzing of the leaf blower in the distance. My pattern-hungry brain seeking out signs in the noise.
 

‘It’s very cold and you don’t appear to have any shoes on, Petri.’

I spin around to see someone in the all-white outfit of a WhiteInc nurse. He has his cap pulled down low, hiding half of his face, but there’s no disguising those eyes. Golden-brown like honey.
 

‘Ethan?’ I say. I reach out my hand and then pull it back, frightened that if I touch him, he will vanish like dust.
 

He takes a step closer and runs his fingers over my palm, the lightest contact but it makes me feel more alive than I have in weeks.
 

‘You’re here.’ I want to throw my arms around him. I want to push him away. A battle between my heart and my head. ‘Why?’
 

‘What do you mean,
why
?’ he says, blinking. ‘To get you out.’
 

‘Max said… ’ I pause, as the fear that has obsessed me rises to the surface again.
 

‘What did he say?’ Ethan says, softly.
 

‘He said you were only using me to get to him. That everything was a lie.’
 

Ethan’s hand tightens around mine. ‘Look at me.’ I risk looking into his eyes, hoping, wanting, to see the truth there. ‘If there’s only one thing you can believe in all of this, Petri, believe in me.’
 

And despite it all, I do. Maybe he did only come to school to find me or help me after that riot because he needed me. But the truth is, I needed him too. All that time I thought I was being strong and independent I was just being stupid and pigheaded. Sometimes, I guess you are
better together.
I just didn’t know it.
 

‘I believe in you.’
 

He lets my hand go and steps away. ‘They’re watching.’ He indicates a guard behind us with a nod of his head.
 

We walk away, keeping our voices low. Just a nurse and patient taking a stroll in the garden. Nothing suspicious about that.

‘How the hell did you get in?’ I say.
 

‘Corina helped me hack their system. Set me up with a false ID and I walked in this morning, reporting for duty.’

‘But you’d need a chip for that.’
 

He pauses. ‘I got one.’ He rubs at the back of his neck and I can see how much it disgusts him. To have this thing inside him that he swore he’d never do. To have Max’s claws in him again.
 

‘Ethan, you shouldn’t have.’
 

‘It’s OK,’ he says, forcing a smile. ‘I can even see the appeal. But let’s get you back inside. It’s freezing.’
 

I follow him through the doors, having to fight the urge to take his hand. It feels as though there are nurses and security guards everywhere. Everyone is a set of eyes tracking me.
 

We make it back to my room. Once the doors hiss shut, I grab him by his shirt and kiss him, pulling him into me. He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me up off the floor.

When my feet touch the floor again, I stand, resting my head against his chest. The aching loneliness I’ve felt ever since I woke up here is melting away.