Imposter (7 page)

Crazy

Mira

The silver shuttle bumps against the ground as it lands. Part of me wants to peer out the narrow windows, but I’m afraid of what I’ll see. I remind myself that this isn’t a prison, like the one for Lifers I was taken to when Tanner tried to help me escape. But still, the term institution reminds me of that cold, drab place with high walls reaching toward the sky and angry guards torturing starving prisoners. I shiver when the memories of my own arrest rise to the surface. Will, sitting straight-backed to my right, glances at me, but I ignore him. When the ship’s purr abruptly stops, anxiety burrows deep in my stomach and twists it into little knots. Ben whines from his padded spot close to the door. Maybe he feels my nervousness, too.

A crack of light appears around the door as it lowers and forms steps down to the bright green grass.
Grass? At a prison?
The gravity belts release and Will stands up. Without waiting for either of us, he strides to the door and goes down the stairs ahead of us. Ben and I get to our feet at the same time. He stretches, his long brown and black body blending with the shadows.

“Come here, boy.” I pat my side. Ben gives me a doggy snort of disgust. “Come on, let’s go.” He huffs and then meanders over to me. I grab the short leather leash attached to his harness before following Will down the stairs.

Real emerald green lawn stretches all around us, broken only by a stone path that leads up to a sprawling, red brick building.

“This is my kind of prison,” I murmur.

Will turns toward me. “What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing.” My face burns from embarrassment. “Just talking to myself.”

Will considers me for a minute before he shrugs and continues up the path. Ben sniffs the grass on our way and stops, but I tug on his leash. It probably wouldn’t make a good impression if he peed on their lawn.

As we approach the institution, I start to notice the little details. White shutters decorate each of the windows stretching from one side to the other. Perfectly groomed, dark green trees decorated with light pink flowers line the last half of the path up to the building. Three wide cement steps lead to a set of heavy oak doors.

As we reach the bottom of the steps, a dark-haired woman in a snow-white uniform and white hat forces the doors open and skips down the steps. A crimson smile stretches painfully across her face, and she fixes her gaze on me, passing over Will entirely.

“Welcome, Socrates. We’re so very glad to see you. My name is Amy, and I’ll be your guide today.” Her bubbly effervescence unnerves me. People shouldn’t smile that much.

When my eyes meet his, Will shrugs as if to say, “This is your choice. Now we have to deal with it.”

“We couldn’t believe it when George Eliot said you were interested in coming here to see our dear friend Lewis Carroll. It’s such a delight to have someone like yourself visit us. I can’t begin to tell you how excited we are that you’re here.”

She pauses to give us both another blinding grin. “Although we did find it strange that George Eliot was so vague about your reason for coming since our friend hasn’t had any notable visitors in over a year. Is there something wrong?”

“No. I just thought it was past due, so I asked Eliot to make the arrangements.”

When I don’t elaborate, Amy’s smile becomes forced. Will smirks.

“Though I certainly appreciate you accommodating us on such short notice. I’m sure you’re extremely busy.”

Amy’s forced enthusiasm falters.
What does she want me to say? That I’m not really Socrates and want to meet someone else whose procedure failed, too? That maybe in this strange, damaged First I can find someone I can relate to?

“We will do anything we can to accommodate an important guest such as yourself.” She turns and flits up the stairs, not waiting for us to follow her. I shrug at Will, and we both take the steps behind her.

Ahead of us, Amy swings open one of the front doors. As we pass through, I run my fingers over the heavy, dark wood. Its smooth soft surface reminds me of the little crosses back at the farm; particularly my sister’s, though ours were softened by the weather and the fingers of mourning family members, not oil or stain.

Through the wide front doors is an enormous room with ceilings arching high above us, lit by small round windows in the roof. Curving staircases wrap around each side of the room, embracing the black and white tiles on the floors and leading to a well-polished cherry desk. When she reaches it, Amy drops into the chair behind the desk and taps her fingers over the empty wooden surface. An opaque screen flashes into existence. Amy runs her fingers over the translucent frame until pictures of people appear.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Um, that’s our visitor log. We keep track of who comes to visit. It’s one of our standard security measures.”

Heat rushes to my face. “Sorry. I don’t have a lot of technology like this at my home in Santa Fe.” I let out what I hope is a self-conscious laugh. “Eliot’s been trying to convince me to join the twenty-sixth century, but so far she hasn’t succeeded.”

“One more thing,” Amy says. “I just need to check you in.” She grabs what appears to be a shiny silver pen from a drawer underneath the front of the desk. She slides in front of me and pushes a button on the top of the pen. It starts to glow, and before I can react, she shines the red light right into my left eye.

“What the—”

“It’s just a retinal scan.” She does the same thing to Will, but he doesn’t react. Maybe he’s used to retinal scans somehow, even though I never saw one at the Smith.

“Thank you.” She puts the pen back in the desk. “Follow me, please.” Amy walks through the wide doorway behind her desk. Her mincing steps echo loudly in the strangely unoccupied room.

“How will that show who I am, since I haven’t been here in this body before?”

“It won’t. But it catalogues your unique retinal signature so any future visits are processed appropriately and securely.”

Will and I follow Amy into a well-lit room with big, leafy plants that strain toward wide windows overlooking a backyard just as impressive as the front. Several yellow chairs cluster around the windows as if they need the light as much as the plants do.

A young man sits motionless in one of those chairs, his hands folded in his lap. He’s unnaturally pale, and his hair is a deep blue-ish black. His eyes are closed, but when we approach him, they snap open to reveal pale blue irises that almost seem to glow with a silver light. I shiver. One of the corners of his mouth twitches.

The man’s gaze flickers from me and barely grazes across Will before settling on the nurse. “Visitors? Miss Amy, you are full of surprises today.”

Amy fidgets from side to side. “I apologize for the break in your routine, Mr. Carroll, but your good friend Socrates insisted on visiting today.”

He returns his focus to me and a toothy leer blossoms across his face. “I would never have expected such an esteemed guest. Not for little old me.” He touches his chest for emphasis.

Amy ignores his antics and turns toward me. “Would you like me to stay?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you for offering.”

She smiles at me, as if relieved, and darts from the room without another word.

“She’s always in such a hurry to go, poor girl.” Carroll shakes his head. “I really don’t understand it.” With an exaggerated sigh, Carroll turns his attention back to me. “Sit, sit, my friend. It’s been too long since we’ve talked.” He gestures grandly at the plastic chair across from him.

As I sit across from him, it crosses my mind that Eliot was right. Something is intrinsically off about this man. Ben tugs at his leash. I unclip it, and he sniffs his way over Carroll and investigates ground around him. After apparently finding little of interest, he wanders slowly back over to me and lays down at my side. Will settles himself behind me, hands behind his back, and gazes out the window, more like a potted plant than a person.

Carroll jerks his head toward Will. “You brought a bodyguard? Aren’t you the important one.”

I follow his gaze, but Will ignores our conversation. “Not really. He’s a friend.”

“Carrying on with the hired help? That’s not like you.” Carroll flashes a merry smile. I shift in my chair, my palms growing sweaty. “But I’m sure that’s not the reason you’re here.”

His words send a chill down my spine. “Like I said, I wanted to visit with you. It’s been too long.”

Carroll arches one of his coal black eyebrows. “It’s only been five years. Barely a heartbeat for people like us.” He taps his finger to his chin. “Perhaps something else is going on.” Carroll twitches, a small movement at the edge of his left eye.

“Are you okay?” When Carroll doesn’t answer, my gaze shifts to Will but he shrugs. But when Carroll spasms again, Will steps closer to me, his eyes trained on our companion.

Carroll’s lip curls into a sneer. “Why are you looking at that boy? He’s nothing but a fly, little Alice. No one important and annoying at best.”

I jerk my gaze from Will at Carroll’s words. “Who’s Alice?”

Amy rushes back in. Her hands flutter at her sides, and she purses her bright red lips in worry. “Oh, dear, we were afraid something like this might happen. A change in his routine often sets Mr. Carroll off. I’m so sorry, Socrates.” She wrings her hands. A young, red-headed doctor in a green tunic and pants, enters the room with a small silver disk in his hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask Amy. The doctor gingerly approaches Carroll from behind.  He waits until the First opens his mouth to speak to us again and then presses the disk to Carroll’s neck. He jumps, his face contorting in pain.

Amy leaves the doctor and approaches us. “I’m sorry you had to see this. He has these spells sometimes, that’s all.” She forces a smile as Carroll’s breathing slows back to normal, and his head drops to his chest.

The doctor checks Carroll’s pupils and pulse. “The drugs are taking effect. You shouldn’t have to worry now.” He straightens up, drops the now empty disc into his pocket, and offers me his hand. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I’m Dr. Meyers, Mr. Carroll’s primary physician.”

I tentatively touch my fingers to his, and he shakes my hand. His grip is firm, but his hands are soft and unused to manual labor. “I’m Socrates.”

He offers me a thin-lipped smile. “Of course, and I’m glad to see you’ve kept all of your faculties. I’d heard you’d taken this last Exchange particularly hard. There was even talk you might be joining us as a guest.”

The blood drains from my face. “Oh no! I’m fine.”

“It was a joke, sir. Don’t worry. You’re nothing like our friend here.” He puts a tentative hand on Carroll’s shoulder. “Trust me. Even though it might appear heartless, we’re actually doing Mr. Carroll a favor. Could you imagine him out in the real world?”

That would be a disaster. “No, not really.”

“That’s right. We’re just lucky we caught it in time.”

My attention returns to Lewis Carroll. His head lolls to the side as he fades in and out of consciousness. “How did this happen?”

“No one really knows. Even though we’ve been conducting these procedures for hundreds of years, there is still so much unknown.”

In the chair next to us, Carroll groans.

Dr. Meyers studies his patient. “To be honest, it’s much more common for neither soul to make the transition and both patients die.”

I shiver. “Is there a way to keep this from happening again?”

Dr. Meyers checks his patient’s vital signs again before answering. “You’d have to end the Exchange procedures to insure that.”

Carroll moans. We both turn toward him and, after a minute, his head twitches and his eyes flutter.

“Did you… did you give me the good stuff again, doctor?” He attempts a leer, but it looks more like a lopsided grimace.

Dr. Meyers checks his pupils and pulse again. “Only the best for you, Mr. Carroll. Don’t you feel better now?”

Carroll bobs his head up and down. “Like always. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re like a brother to me.” He tries to reach back and pat the physician’s hand but Dr. Meyers jerks away before Carroll can make contact.

“Well, I really ought to start making my rounds.”

I scan the room. “There are other patients here?”

“Yes. Six permanent residents, their physicians, nurses, and security personnel. Sometimes we get temporary patients, but this is one of the most exclusive institutions in the world, and only the most elite can afford to stay here.”

“Where are they? I didn’t see anyone except for Amy when we arrived.”

“Oh, they’re here. This is a large building, and most of our guests are housed on the third and fourth floors. We only bring them to the other levels for therapy or when they have visitors such as you.”

“Are there any other Firsts here?”

Dr. Meyers consults the translucent tablet in his pocket before answering. “I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to release that information. Security protocols and all that. I’m sure you understand.”

I flush. Of course he can’t tell me who the other patients are. “Yes, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”