Mind Games (17 page)

For there is a single general space, a single vast immensity which we may freely call Void; in it are innumerable globes like this one on which we live and grow. This space we declare to be infinite, since neither reason, convenience, possibility, sense-perception nor nature assign to it a limit. In it are an infinity of worlds of the same kind as our own.

Giordano Bruno, burned at the stake in 1600

29

Sunlight streams through the window next to me, and I blink, confused. It’s night, isn’t it? I look around. I’m sitting at a table on my own; there are other tables around me. A waitress bustles about with plates of food. I’m in a café, is that it?

But where am I? How did I get here?

People stream past the window, and I stare out. A busy street; could be anywhere in London but I don’t recognise it, and panic is rising inside. This is it: I’ve finally completely lost it.

OK. Breathe deep, calm down. What is the last thing I can remember?

I try to concentrate, but my head feels so
wrong
. But I was in the void: I’m sure of that at least. I’d been with Gecko. He’d freaked me out, talking about how Danny and Jezzamine died. He’d said he was being held by PareCo and forced to go to Inaccessible Island. And I’d panicked, and run out of his S’hack. Straight through the wall.

And then…? No idea.

I’m not plugged in now; that I’m sure of. There is no double awareness, no body lying in my PIP at home. So no matter how I got here, it’s real.

Check surroundings? Next to me on the table: a menu screen; a half-drunk cup of tea, gone cold. My bag is on an empty chair next to me, Jason’s dog peering out from the top of it. Is Jason here? I search the café: tables about half full, more people coming in the door, no sign of Jason or anyone else I know. My tummy rumbles and a clock on the wall tells me it has gone noon. Lunchtime.

A waitress walks up. ‘Have you decided yet?’ she asks, a wary look on her face.

When in doubt, eat. I scan the menu fast, order sandwiches, more tea. Scrabble through my bag for a credit token, panicking when it isn’t there, but then realise it is already in the table slot. I frown. Did I put it there? She punches my order in, starts to walk away.

‘Wait,’ I say. Swallow. She turns back and I try to think of a way to get information without looking a complete dys, but then give up and just ask. ‘How long have I been sitting here? Did anyone come in with me?’

She keeps her distance. ‘The same as the last time you asked me,’ she says, speaking very slowly. ‘You got here by yourself, just after eleven.’ And she walks away, fast.

I’ve definitely lost it.

Tea comes, hot, and I wrap my shaking hands around the cup. Sandwiches next. I eat, mechanically at first, then with more attention, and somehow start to feel better. The light glares less, my head spins less. Have I been drugged?

Dad.
I should call Dad
, I realise, finally forming a useful thought. But before I can wonder if my phone is in my bag and, if not, where I can find one, the door opens. A man with a familiar smile, a white coat: the HealthCo doctor from the test centre? Dr Rafferty.

He scans the room until he spots me at the table in the window, and walks over.

‘Luna? There you are,’ he says, pauses by the other chair and I move my bag from it to the table. He sits down.

‘Hi,’ I say. Staring at him with relief: a face I know, even if not top choice.

‘Where’ve you been, Luna? We’ve been looking for you. Everybody has been very worried.’

‘I…I don’t know.’ And now I’m shaking again, wanting to cry, and beyond working out if I should or shouldn’t tell him the truth, but I’m not up to coming up with a useful or believable lie, so it is the only option. ‘I don’t know. One minute I was plugged in at home; it was the evening after Nanna’s funeral.’ Pain twists inside. ‘The next minute… I’m here. I don’t know what’s happened!’ And I can hear the panic in my voice, feel tears wet on my cheeks.

His eyes are concerned. ‘Oh, dear. There, there, Luna.’ He pats my hand awkwardly. ‘Everything will be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll work out what has happened to you. Come on.’

He stands, and I get up, tuck my bag around my arm. He nods reassuringly and we head for the door. The waitress looks relieved.

Outside the café is a van. A door opens from inside; Dr Rafferty has a quick word with someone, then turns back. ‘Come on, Luna. Get in. I think a trip to hospital is in order.’

A stark white room. There is someone outside my door all the time, fuzzy but visible through the obscured glass pane: a guard? Who am I being guarded from? Or maybe he is here to keep an eye on me. I consider trying to leave to see what happens, but then dismiss it. I’m in the right place to figure out what is wrong.

There are scans, tests. Dr Rafferty comes in and out. Then there are drugs, and I drift away, dream of questions.
Who am I? Where was I?
But I can’t answer them any more than I can when I’m awake.

Later I open my eyes, and Dr Rafferty is in the chair next to me, reading a patient chart. Mine? He looks up. ‘Ah, hello, Luna. Back with us, I see.’

‘So, have you worked out what is wrong with me? Have I lost it?’

He grins. ‘No, you’re completely sane. That’s not it.’

‘Tell me what’s going on. Please.’

‘I will as much as I can. When I found you in the café yesterday, it was actually six days later than you thought it was.’

‘Six
days
?’

‘Yes. Your transport crashed, and you were seen being pulled away from the wreckage. Then you disappeared.’

‘A transport? What transport?’

‘The one taking you for travel to Inaccessible Island. That was the day after your nanna’s funeral.’

‘I was going there? But I had a transfer to London Uni.’

‘You did, but due to changed circumstances, the transfer was cancelled.’

I stare back at him, confused, then the pound drops. I had the transfer because of Nanna. When she died, circumstances changed: no Nanna, no transfer.

‘The transport crashed, and then I disappeared?’

‘Yes.’

‘People can’t just disappear.’

‘No. But we couldn’t find you. When you used your credit token at that café, that flagged your location on the system, and I came to see if you were all right.’

‘What about my family? When can I see them? They must have been so freaked.’

He shakes his head. ‘They didn’t know. We felt it best to spare them until we knew what happened to you.’

‘But where have I been?’

‘All I can do is speculate. It’s being looked into, but you may have been taken by a group of rebels.’

My jaw literally drops. ‘There are rebels? In
London
?’

‘Regrettably, there are always the disaffected, the deluded, the mentally deficient. Not just here; in countries all around the world. Marginalised and wanting attention for some lost cause, most usually.’ He shrugs dismissively.

‘But why was I in that café? What’s happened to my memory?’

He shrugs. ‘Perhaps whatever it was they thought they wanted you for didn’t work out? Perhaps you resisted their plans, or they decided you were of no use, wiped your memory and let you go. We know your memories of this time are truly gone from the tests we carried out, not just suppressed, but as for why, or how – again, this is just speculation at this point.’

There’s a knock on the door, and an orderly brings a suitcase into the room. I recognise it: it’s mine. The one I used when I went to the test centre. But why is it here?

‘Ah, your things have arrived,’ Dr Rafferty says.

I look at him blankly.

‘The bag you packed to go to Inaccessible Island. It was recovered from the transport after the accident. Perhaps your own clothes will make you feel better? I’ll leave you a moment; get dressed. Soon it will be time to go.’

‘Am I going home now?’

‘I’m afraid not. You have to catch up to your cohort at Inaccessible Island. They’ll be ahead of you in training now.’ He stands, walks to the door. ‘Get ready and I’ll be back in twenty minutes.’

He leaves and the door swings shut.

Well. I wheel my suitcase across the room, put it on the bed. At least I can get out of this terribly attractive hospital gown. But I feel like I’m trespassing on my own life. Did I pack this bag? I don’t remember, and suddenly am desperate to go through all my stuff, to see if it helps things come back.

Inside are neatly folded clothes, neater than I’d do. Maybe Sally packed it for me, though it isn’t like me to let her do that. ANDs are tucked in corners, and I remember I’d started using them to plug in, that Gecko had told me about them.

Gecko said he was being taken to Inaccessible Island, too. Will he be there? Is he crazy, or isn’t he? If he’s there, then maybe he isn’t. Maybe he was right about PareCo causing Jezzamine and Danny’s deaths. Spine spiders walk up my backbone: he warned me not to go to the PareCo Think Tank.

But it’s not like I have a choice.

Bemused, I get dressed, then go through my handbag also. No phone, but whether I didn’t take it, or it went missing either when I did or later, here at the hospital, I have no way of knowing. And why’ve I got Jason’s toy dog with me? Generally called Mr Dog; full name Mr Dodgy D Dog. I hold him in my hands.

Something glints, and I look closer: silver is double-wrapped around his furry neck. Astra’s old necklace? What on earth is it doing here? I undo it and put it around my own neck under my clothes. The silver is cool against my skin, but somehow it zings, like electricity.

30

I glance at the ticket stamp, faint on my wrist: 49B – then back at the number on the seatback. It’s my seat, but it’s occupied. I clear my throat. ‘Excuse me, I think you’re in the wrong seat.’ A face that is pale even for a Hacker turns towards me, dark eyes wide under a shock of green-streaked hair.

‘Would you mind taking the window seat, instead?’ she says.

I shrug. ‘Sure. Whatever.’

She stands so I can get in, and she’s tiny: I tower over her by a foot at least. It’s an exit row, and for a moment, something about that twinges uneasily. I shrug it aside. Extra foot room – what’s not to like?

I sit down, and elbow the button on the seat arm for the automatic seat belt. Glance back at the girl next to me. Her hands are laced together, knuckles going white.

‘Are you OK?’

She jumps, turns to look at me. ‘Fine. Only…do you mind if we talk while the plane takes off?’

After being ignored by the tight group of twelve smug and happy Hackers in the airport departure lounge that I’d been herded into by Dr Rafferty, I’m about to return the favour and ignore her, but then I really look at her again. She’s breathing is short, sharp gasps. Her pupils are dilated. The engines rev up, and she jumps so much if her seatbelt wasn’t on I’m pretty sure she’d have hit the overhead lockers.

She’s completely freaked out.

‘Don’t like flying?’

‘I hate it. Please don’t tell anyone; it’s totally dys.’

I’m shocked. A Hacker who is afraid to fly? Fear is not allowed in Hackerville. A trace of sympathy registers inside. The others in our group are up and down this side of the plane in a cluster, Dr Rafferty and a PareCo official at the front; none of them are in our eye line. She might get away with it.

‘OK, sure. What do you want to talk about?’

‘Anything that doesn’t involve being
here
. Who are you, anyhow? Speculation as to why you joined us has been rife.’

‘So I didn’t just imagine that everyone was talking about me.’ Their tattooed eyes had all swivelled in my direction when I got to the airport, and real conversation had died. Vacant looks followed, indicating virtual conversation had taken over. Not possible now as Implants are blocked during flights; something about interfering with communication and navigation systems. So she has to make do with me.

She almost manages to grin. ‘No, it wasn’t all in your mind. We’d been in the same group together since we boarded the transport yesterday; then you appeared through a special door into departures, and you’re not even a Hacker. If that wasn’t enough you had a doctor in tow, and didn’t respond to Implant hellos. We were understandably a little curious.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m Luna. I haven’t got an Implant, so sorry if I ignored anyone earlier. And I was supposed to be in the previous group, but got delayed.’

‘You haven’t got an Implant?’ The shock on her face is as severe as if I’d just said I haven’t got a brain, or a heart, yet somehow still manage to walk and talk all by myself. ‘And you were delayed, and they still let you come? What happened?’

I’m uneasy. What I just said was the Dr Rafferty-approved line; he didn’t say what to do if people ask questions, and they are bound to, aren’t they? Saying as little as possible sounds like a good idea. ‘There was an accident.’ No worries about getting into too much detail; kind of hard when I don’t remember a thing about it.

‘What sort of accident?’ Her eyes are more curious now, less scared, but then we start hitting speed for takeoff, and the fear comes back. She grips the arms of the seat hard, her eyes clenched shut tight as we lift off and the G-force pushes us back into our seats.

‘Flying is supposed to be safer than walking, you know,’ I say, trying to think of something helpful.

‘I’d rather fall over when I’m walking on the ground than drop like a stone from the sky,’ she hisses through gritted teeth.

‘Good point.’ I’d always liked the feeling of speed, and the
boom
when we break the sound barrier, but tend to not think of being in the sky and hurtling from said sky – it is more the rush of going faster and faster that I like.

‘Talk? Please,’ she says, eyes still shut. ‘About anything.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Marina.’

‘OK, Marina.’ I scan my memory banks for something that’ll distract her. It’s an obvious answer, really, and they’ll find out anyhow, won’t they? Somehow, Hackers always do. ‘How about we each say one surprising thing about ourselves?’

‘You go first,’ she says, her voice gaspy and not quite right.

‘My mother was Astra.’

Her eyes snap open. ‘What? Really? I love her interpretation of black holes. Is that why you’re coming even though you haven’t got an Implant?’

I shrug. ‘Probably. I don’t know. I did rather well on the IQ test also. Now it’s your turn,’ I prompt.

‘You’ve already got the only surprising fact about me. The flying thing. The rest is pretty boring. I’m just a Hacker.’

‘Obviously,’ I say, glancing again at the waves of black swirls around her left eye. ‘But is that all you are – a Hacker?’

She gives me a look, one that says – what else is there?

‘What’s your Hacker kick?’ I ask.

‘I’m into Atlantis mostly. Mermaids, too. Anything to do with the sea.’

We’ve levelled off now. Her colour is starting to come back, but she keeps her eyes turned carefully away from the window, from a London rapidly receding from view. I try not to visibly stare out of the window, wanting to reach out and touch
home
, one last time. My throat feels tight and it is nothing to do with fear of flying: we’re hurtling towards the unknown.

I turn back to her. ‘Do you know anything about where we’re going?’

‘You missed the info dump, didn’t you? We all got it through our Implants when we arrived in departures. About the trip and the island.’

‘Tell me about it.’

She starts going over what I’ve missed, and both her voice and her colour continue to improve. Is it just a taking off thing? Or maybe talking does help. She explains how we’re flying to South Africa, that Inaccessible Island – nicknamed Inac – is hundreds of miles from there. It is an extinct volcano, only about fourteen square kilometres. That we’re getting a boat from SA because air space is restricted above Inac, as part of a world heritage site.

‘But why is it a no-fly zone?’

‘It’s part of being a reserve: no unnecessary tech is allowed. So no flying.’

‘What about PareCo being there? They’re all tech, tech, tech.’

She shrugs. ‘They’re PareCo.’ As if that says it all.

And I wonder why PareCo are out in the middle of nowhere like this: are they up to things they don’t want anyone to see? It’s got to cost loads to transport people, equipment and supplies. Hex said it was part of them staying neutral, not being under any one country’s control, which makes sense. But there has got to be an easier way to do that.

But I’m excited just the same to see this remote place. ‘This island thing should be just right for you,’ I say.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Mermaids – an island – the sea…?’ She looks at me blankly. ‘Shouldn’t where we’re going be perfect for all of that?’

She shakes her head a little. ‘Where we’re going, that stuff is real.’

‘Except for the mermaids. So?’

‘Virtual is better, Luna.’ She gives me a pitying look.

‘How so?’

‘Last I checked, I can’t breathe underwater in a real ocean; last I checked, I couldn’t be a mermaid, either. And I’ve heard that swimming at real beaches is awful. You get sand
everywhere
, and salt is horrible in your hair.’ There is a sense of repetition, as if she is parroting things she has been told. Her wistful face goes against the words, and the green streaks in her golden hair, like sun on seaweed, say she yearns for it to be real.

Now I give her a pitying look. ‘Try the real world some time. Have you ever been to a real beach?’

She shakes her head. ‘Have you?’

I nod. ‘Astra took me to Brighton once. I couldn’t have been more than four years old, but I still remember.’ And I describe chasing waves on the sand.

She frowns. ‘That isn’t much better than virtual, you know. That beach wasn’t naturally sandy – it was all shingle. They brought the sand in decades ago, before the Preservation Act.’

‘To four-year-old me it felt pretty real.’

‘You could go there again in virtual. At any point in history you want: a sandy beach, or a stony one; even before the new piers were destroyed in the war.’

I shake my head. ‘It wouldn’t be the same. I prefer my own memories.’ My words smart, inside. Whatever happened to me before and after that transport crash, I’ve lost
six days
. Who knows what might be in the missing bits? It feels like something vital has been stolen, leaving a dull ache behind.

‘Memory is notoriously unreliable: why not see what it was really like?’

‘Who is to say that what is in Virtual Brighton is any more real than my memories? Isn’t it constructed based on someone else’s memories?’

She shakes her head. ‘There’s more to it than that,’ she says, an impatient look in her eyes; one that says
if you were a Hacker, you’d understand
. ‘Anyhow, you’ll have to find out more about how VeeDubs work if you’re going to work for PareCo.’

‘VeeDubs? What does that mean?’

‘Virtual Worlds, V-W: VeeDubs.’

I sit back again and look out the window, but all there is now is darkness. As if I could do anything useful for PareCo. Until seconds ago I didn’t even know what a VeeDub was. I don’t even know what Hackers really
do
, apart from the very little Hex has told me, about manipulating code in virtual spaces. VeeDubs, that is.

When we finally get to the approach at Cape Town, Marina goes through the whole panic thing again as the plane lands, and I try to keep her talking until we’re down.

We taxi to the gates, and the
No Implants
light goes off before the doors open. Marina’s face switches to blank, then comes back again.

‘Thank you, Luna. I really owe you one.’ Her eyes are anxious.

‘Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell anybody.’

But Marina seems to take discharging a debt seriously. Later she introduces me around to the others while we wait for transport to the boat. Hackers every one, and they can’t seem to believe I’m there, without a Hacker mark in sight. That I could possibly be a PareCo intern, like them. So that is what we are now: I’m a
PareCo intern
. Sounds weird. Why should they believe it when I can’t?

Including Marina and me there are seven girls and six boys; all look about the same age, seventeen or so. Marina also seems to have told them I don’t have an Implant, so now and then one of them talks to me out loud. Slowly, like I’m not quite there.

And she summarises the latest info dump they get on the boat. Over 1500 miles to Inac, so even on the latest and greatest high-speed skimmer it’ll take hours.

When the island finally appears in the distance, our eyes are eager. Inaccessible it is, and not just because of its isolated location. Steep cliffs rise out of the water. As we get nearer there is one narrow strip of beach we can see in the rocky coastline; sheer cliffs above. Marina gasps. ‘Beautiful,’ she whispers.

A smaller boat takes Dr Rafferty and us interns to the beach. We are tossed so on the sea that some of the others are sick, but I’m exhilarated. A tricky approach through rocks, and soon we are standing on the sand, salt in the air, and I breathe in deep to taste it. Surf thunders against the rocks. That and bird cries are all there is to hear. There is no traffic, no buildings or structures of any kind, no pollution. Nothing man-made in sight.

‘So. How is the real thing measuring up?’ I say to Marina, but she doesn’t answer. Her eyes are shining.

‘Luna!’ a voice calls out, and I turn in time to get crushed into an enthusiastic hug, nose crunched against shoulder: Hex’s shoulder. He lets go, holds me at arm’s length. Studies my face as if checking every detail is as it should be, then grins widely. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right.’ He pulls me close again, not so tight this time, and holds me. A warm hug, and I cling to him. My only friend from home in this strange place.

There are footsteps, a throat-clearing sound. ‘Time to go up,’ Dr Rafferty says. He walks towards the cliff, and the air shimmers. Changes. He pushes a button, and doors swing open. ‘Come along then.’

‘A lift? There’s a lift in the cliff?’ I say.

‘Of course there is,’ Hex answers. ‘Did you fancy climbing it instead?’

At a gesture from Dr Rafferty, I get into the lift with Hex. It only takes half a dozen at a time; Marina and some of the others get in with us. She raises an appraising eyebrow at Hex, and winks at me when he’s not looking, and I look at him again. Something is different. Is it just his clothes? He isn’t wearing his usual black jeans and weird scrawled T-shirt, he’s in some sort of soft green tunic that felt good when he hugged me, but looks even better. He’s somehow standing straighter, taller; his eyes are different, too; not so full of humour. More serious. And they’re looking back at mine. He grins and I jump, realise I’ve been staring. I turn away.

The lift zooms up so fast that my stomach lurches; then it swings sideways. Not just a lift, then? Marina is pale and keeps one hand on the side rail, but otherwise seems all right. The lift finally slows, and stops. The doors open.

We step out, blinking, into the light.