Perception (7 page)

But I had to do
something. As much as I didn’t understand Alison, and honestly, I often didn’t
even like her, she was still my mother. Liam had to be found.

Which meant attending
Noah’s rally.

Back in my room, I
pinned my hair up and stuffed it under the wig. Then I popped in the brown
contacts, a procedure that went far more smoothly the second time around. I put
the same clothes on as I had worn earlier, and studied my image in the mirror.
Bland and dowdy.

Perfect.

The house was big
enough that I could slip away unnoticed. I made my way to the garage and
buckled myself into my pod, instructing it to take me to the gate.

Vehicle traffic
coming in from the outside had picked up with business commuters returning
home. Fewer electric cars were in the lane going out, but clearly there was
some kind of draw that took the residents outside. I’d never had reason to
observe gate traffic before. I’d naively assumed everyone stayed happily in Sol
City like I did.

Foot traffic going in
and out remained constant, a crowded flow. With so many people surrounding me, I’d
been silly to think someone would’ve noticed me last time.

Once I passed through
the gates, I walked directly to the sky train station. I kept my head down and
wished there were some way I could plug my nose. The heat of summer didn’t mix
well with sweaty flesh, and most of the people I jostled against needed to go
home and have a shower.

A grey-haired man paced with a sandwich board sign on his
bent body. The front said
“
More Elderly = More Care
Needed.
”
On the back it read,
“
Starving Seniors is a Disgrace to a
Nation.
”

I stared at the man’s face. His eyes were watery bright like
crystal, and elephant skin hung loosely over his face and arms. I couldn’t help
feeling grossed out. Sol City didn’t have elderly, or at least, the elderly
there didn’t look like that.

I was already late
and hoped I hadn’t missed the whole thing. It was in the same neighborhood as
the church, and I’d noted the signs that showed the way earlier. I crossed the
courtyard and passed the water fountain where I’d first bumped into Noah
earlier that day. A humid breeze fanned the varied food smells from the food
court–some good, some not so good.

With all the people
and traffic, it was trickier to get to the station than I’d thought. Finally, I
found the escalator that took me to the sky train platform over head. By the
time I found Noah and his gaggle of placard-raising followers, he was already
wrapping up.

“GAPs are oblivious
to the struggles outside their gates.” Noah didn’t have a mic or blow horn like
I’d imagined he would. Just the power of his own voice carried his message
through the crowd; resonate, clear, baritone that was pretty impressive. “They
live in walled paradises, never knowing hunger, or strife or the pressures to
pay bills.”

I admired his
tenacity at any rate, even if his passions were misplaced. I wondered why the
news people were missing. Maybe because this small rally wasn’t disrupting a
Sleiman event?

Noah didn’t seem to
care about the size of the crowd, or if media were present. He seemed to like
the sound of his own voice.

“Write the mayor and
those running against her, hoping to fill her shoes. If they really want your
support, they will oppose GAP policies. No more genetic manipulation. No more
tax breaks for those who are older than one hundred years due to artificial
means. No more gated, elitist, technologically advanced cities. Make sure your
voice is heard!”

I crossed my arms and
braced myself against the bodies that pushed against me as a new batch of
travelers disembarked from the last train.

I’d lost sight of
Noah, craning my neck to see if I could make him or any of his friends out in
the crowd. Then two forceful words blasted through the dissonance of the train
station noise.

“You’re late.”

Noah Brody stood
beside me, his body pressing close as people pushed by.

I squirmed. “Uh,
yeah, sorry about that. I must’ve gotten the times wrong.”

Noah stared at me
hard. Something was off about this guy. He unnerved me. I glanced away,
plotting out which direction I should dash and calculating the odds of
out-running him.

The next train filled
up with passengers and left like a breath leaving space on the platform.

“You sounded great,” I
offered weakly. “Seemed...well-received?”

Before Noah could
respond, someone called his name. I glanced over Noah’s shoulder and spotted a
wiry-looking guy with red hair.

Dexter.

Like it or not, now I’d
have to stick around. Dexter was the key to unlocking the mystery of what
happened to Liam. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass by.

“Noah,” the guy
called out as he hobbled to where Noah and I were standing. There was something
awkward about his gait.

“Ultimate, speech,
man. Ultimate!”

“Thanks, Dex,” Noah
said.

Zack Dexter jittered
around like a knobby jointed string-puppet. I wondered if he were on something.
I’d heard naturals weren’t always fans of staying “natural” in the purest sense
of the word. That was something I didn’t get. The naturals were all high and
mighty when it came to their negative opinions about improving human life with
science, but they didn’t think twice about damaging their cells with dangerous
pharmaceuticals.

Dexter eyed me up and
down, his lips stretching over crooked teeth. “Who’s this?”

“Dexter,” Noah said, “meet
Chloe. Chloe, Dexter.”

Dexter’s ginger
eyebrows shot up. “Hi!”

Before I could
respond, Noah interrupted. “I’m starved. Let’s get something to eat.”

People started
gathering for the next train, making conversation difficult. Noah guided me by my
elbow, a too-intimate act that made me uncomfortable, down the escalator to the
exit.

We entered the food
court between the station and the church. It spread out from the outdoor
courtyard down to a second-level underground. We were blasted by bright lights
and digital signs announcing every kind of ethnic food on the planet: Thai,
Greek, Italian, Vietnamese, Korean, French, British, Indian and good
ol’Americano. I found the combination of smells to be a little nauseating. A
cement floor ran through the entire place, dotted with aluminum tables and
chairs painted red.

Noah led the way to
the Indian kiosk in the corner. The cement floor had something smeared on it, a
failed effort at cleaning up a spill. Grime had built up along the wall creases
and I was grossed out by the chair Noah pulled out for me. I tried to keep a
neutral expression fighting the grimace that threatened to overtake my face.

“What’d you want?”
Noah said to me. “My treat.”

“Oh, um, I don’t
know.” I was getting over my initial shock at the disgusting lack of hygiene,
and the food was starting to smell okay. My queasiness passed and I was
suddenly starving. I scanned the menu that hung behind the counter.

“Number two is pretty
good,” Noah said.

“Sure.”

I watched as Noah and
Dexter placed their orders. Noah tugged a wallet out of his back pocket and
paid in cash, but I was relieved to see that Dexter held his hand out to be
scanned. At least they weren’t all fanatics.

The guys returned
with trays; Dexter took the seat opposite and Noah, the one beside. It was a
little unsettling how close he tended to keep to me.

“I didn’t think there
were places left that took cash anymore,” I said, as Noah took his rice bowl
off the tray and pushed a second one to me. I inhaled the savoury curry scent,
eager to dig in. I picked a cashew off the top and tossed it into my mouth.

“There aren’t many.
Only the ones whose owners haven’t taken the chip themselves. Dealing in cash
is becoming an underground activity.”

“But you just did it
in broad daylight.”

“That’s because it’s
not illegal. Yet.”

Chip implantation was
a voluntary procedure. The security and convenience it provided made sense to me.
Plus, it wasn’t that expensive. Even the naturals could probably afford it. I
didn’t think not having a chip would ever be illegal. Noah was just paranoid.

Dexter’s leg jiggled
under the table. The guy could not sit still.

“So, Dexter,” I started.
“Have you and Noah been friends long?”

Dexter stared at Noah
and grinned. “So long, we could be brothers.”

Noah snorted
good-naturedly.

Dexter cleared his
throat directing his next comment to Noah. “Dude, is this your new lady love?”

New lady love? Like
he has an old one? Or several? I had no plans to fill that role. There was a
thud and then a yelp from Dexter. Noah had kicked him under the table.

“You’re such an
idiot.”

Dexter laughed and
wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Well then, maybe me and the new girl?”

I wasn’t amused. I
couldn’t believe Dexter thought he’d have even the slightest chance with me.

“I don’t think so,” I
said.

Another stupid grin. “I
didn’t think so either, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

I didn’t have time to
be the object of some jerk’s desire. I needed to get the conversation where I
wanted it to go, so I could get the information I was hoping for and leave.

“Have you always
lived in L.A?”

“Yup,” Dexter mumbled
with a mouthful. “Home sweet home.”

“Have you ever been,
you know, to Sol City?”

Noah’s fork paused
mid-air. Dexter choked a bit before gulping from his soda can.
Uh, oh. Wrong
thing to say.

“No,” Dexter finally
said. “You can’t get through the gates without GAP ID. Why’d you ask that?”

I picked at my rice
with my fork. “I don’t know. I’m new here. Just making conversation.”

Noah turned his chair
toward me, the metal legs scrapping along the cement floor. The grinding noise
made me shudder.

“You must miss New
San Diego. I heard they finally finished the Obama Memorial Bridge.”

I hesitated before
answering. I was worried that Noah might know more about New San Diego than I
did, which was entirely possible.

“Sure. It’s awesome,”
I said, wondering if there even was an Obama Memorial Bridge and  if I’d just
failed some kind of test.

Dexter stood
suddenly. “Nature calls.” He sauntered down a dark hallway to the public
restrooms.

I took a bite of
curry. It burned my throat, and I followed it with a sip of soda.

Noah seemed fascinated
by my every move. I couldn’t think of a thing to say, and when he stayed
silent, watching me from the corner of his eye, I squirmed, desperate to get
out from under his gaze.

“You know, maybe I’ll
go, too.”

I followed the
hallway Dexter had taken, entering the ladies room that was at the end of the
hall. The toilets and sinks hadn’t been cleaned in a few days, and there was no
way I was going to touch anything in the room, much less use the facilities. In
fact, I wasn’t even going to go back to the table. I’d have to find a way to
get Dexter alone if I wanted answers. Noah Brody was becoming a huge nuisance.

I waited a good
fifteen minutes before treading softly back down the hall, glancing at our
table and sighing with relief when I saw it was empty. They must have left
without me. But just as I turned the corner to make my escape, a body stepped
in front of me, blocking the sunlight. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it
was Noah Brody. And I knew that he
knew
.

Chapter 8

I took a small step
back.

“Where you off to,
Chloe
?
Don’t you know it’s rude to eat and run?”

I felt my throat
constrict. I took another step back. Noah placed his arm over my head as I
pressed against the wall.

“I’m just going home.”

“Home? To Sol City?”

My eyes burned, and I
feared I might burst into tears. Instead I swallowed hard and stared back at
him. I fought to keep the quiver out of my voice. “My boyfriend knows where I
am.”

“Sure he does.”

“I’m serious.”

“Then he’s not a very
good boyfriend.”

I bit my lip. A tear
escaped unbidden.

Noah’s voice
softened. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really up to, Zoe Vanderveen?”

I squirmed under his
gaze.

“My brother is
missing.” My voice sounded so weak. So small.

“Liam? He still
hasn't come home?”

I shook my head. “He’s
been gone for four days.”

“Four days isn’t
really that long, you know, for a guy his age.”