Saving Thanehaven (12 page)

Unless, of course, they’re actually imprisoned in this gleaming little room?

“You don’t have to do this,” Rufus declares. “You don’t have to spend your whole lives changing into different clothes. Not if you don’t want to.” Seeing all the blank expressions that greet this announcement, he adds earnestly, “Clothes aren’t very important. I mean, you said it yourself: Noble looks good, and
he’s
not dressed.”

The girls don’t reply. They just giggle.

“You’re stuck in this dressing room. Am I right?” Rufus doggedly continues. “The only time you leave is when you go get another outfit. And it’s not even your choice of outfit, is it? Someone else always chooses it for you.”

“The radio. It tells us what to wear.” When Brandi waves a hand at the ceiling, Noble suddenly realizes that he’s been listening to a faint thread of music all along. He just hasn’t noticed it before.

“The radio?” he repeats. “What’s the radio?”

There’s more giggling. Even Yestin gapes in astonishment. “Don’t you know what a radio is?” he exclaims.

Only Rufus seems unfazed by such ignorance. He’s still talking to Brandi. “So is this all you want to do?
Ever?
You want to sit in a gilded cage like a pet guinea pig, being pushed around by some tweenie with no fashion sense? Wouldn’t you rather wear clothes that are
your
choice? Go places where other people can actually see what you’ve got on?”

Brandi blinks.

“You can, you know,” Rufus assures her. “You can wear
anything you want to
. And if you’d like to parade it on a beach, we’ll find you a beach. I bet there’s a beach on this computer somewhere.”

Noble is puzzled. What have beaches got to do with anything? He wants to ask Rufus that. He also wants to know what a “tweenie” is, and to find out more about the imminent arrival of the man in the white coat. Should they really be looking for a beach when they’re supposed to be battling the forces of evil?

“Think about it,” Rufus urges Brandi. “I can get you out of here. Just make a decision and say the word. It’s up to you.”

Brandi’s blue eyes grow wider and wider. It’s obvious that she’s struggling to comprehend all these new ideas. At last, she says haltingly, “You want to take me to the beach? Is that it?”

“Sure.” Rufus spreads his arms in an attitude of lavish generosity. “I can take you
all
to the beach, if you like!”

The redhead rejects his offer. “Not in that outfit, you won’t,” she retorts, screwing up her miniature nose in disapproval. Then she turns to the brown-haired boy beside her. “I bet Jay has something that’ll fit you, though. Isn’t that right, Jay? You’ve got
lots
of beachwear.”

“Sure.” Jay’s voice is a lazy tenor drawl. “I’ll go check.”

He rises from an overstuffed couch and strolls away, heading for the nearest closed door. Meanwhile, his red-haired friend apologizes to Noble. “Jay won’t have anything in
your
size,” she says, “but I might be able to track down a few bits and pieces that’ll fit him.” She points at Yestin, then addresses him in a friendly tone. “No offense, but you could really do with a style makeover. Because you look like you’re wearing a slug skin, right now.”

Yestin’s face falls.

“So what?” Rufus says impatiently. “I just told you it doesn’t matter.” Receiving only a vacant stare from the redhead, he redoubles his efforts to convert Brandi. “We don’t have time for dress-ups. If you
want to come with us, you’ll have to hurry. We’ve got things to do. Places to go.”

“People to save,” Noble reminds him.

“Sure.” Rufus nods without taking his eyes off Brandi. “Isn’t there something else you want to do with your life?” he asks her. “Something really worthwhile and exciting?”

“Um …” Brandi is backed up against a mirror, her expression dazed. “I—I guess so.…”

“Study? Travel? Marriage?” Rufus suggests, sparking the redhead’s interest.

“Oh, we can get married anytime!” she chirps. “We’ve all got wedding gowns, haven’t we, Skye?”

She’s talking to the black-haired girl, who trills, “All of us except Jay!” And they both laugh a tinkling laugh.

Rufus ignores them. “Weddings aren’t just about clothes,” he insists. “
Nothing’s
just about clothes. You’ve got to open your mind. Isn’t there something you really want to do that’s
different
and
challenging
and
radical
?”

Brandi frowns. Her plump lips turn down at the corners. But her red-haired friend says, “You know what I’d love to do? I’d love to wear
all my clothes at once
!”

“Oh, Krystalle!” Skye squeals with excitement, clapping and bouncing. “That would be
so cool
!”

“Only I can’t,” Krystalle laments, “because I don’t have enough legs or arms!”

“Aww …”

Watching the two girls hug each other, Noble decides that they’re not the kind of people he wants on his team.
We’d be better off without them
, he thinks, glancing at Rufus—who scratches his head and mutters, “Maybe this isn’t going to work.”

Then Jay reappears. “Why don’t you try some of these?” he says, passing a bundle of T-shirts to Rufus. Most of them are mud-colored, though several are brighter, with stripes and stars on them. Rufus selects one by simply plucking it off the pile; he drops the rest and says, “What about you, Jay? Do you want to be a man or a mannequin?”

“Huh?” Jay looks bewildered.

“We’ll be leaving in a minute. So if you want to do something really special with your life, you’re welcome to join us.” Rufus cocks his head at Jay, his eyes glittering through his swag of hair.

Jay stares at him for a moment before repeating, “Special?”

“He means getting married,” Skye volunteers, twisting a lock of black hair around her little finger.

“No, I don’t!” Rufus snaps. “I mean liberation! Revolution!”

“But how are you going to get out?” asks Brandi. Her gaze is fixed on Rufus, who’s struggling to push his head through a tight-fitting collar. “Did you come in through the laundry chute? Is that how you want to leave? Because I can’t use the laundry chute if I’m wearing this skirt.”

Rufus stiffens. Then he yanks the T-shirt down over his head so that his mop of hair suddenly springs into view, exploding off his scalp like a feather cockade. “What laundry chute?” he demands.

“The one in my wardrobe.” Brandi nods at the open door. “Didn’t you climb in through there? It’s the only way out.”

Rufus narrows his eyes. “You mean you dump all your dirty clothes down a laundry chute?”

“Sure,” Brandi replies. “After we’ve worn them.”

“And then what?” Rufus speaks sharply. “Do they come back clean?”

For some reason, Brandi finds this question difficult to answer. It’s the red-haired Krystalle who responds.

“Sometimes they go out of fashion,” she chimes in, “so they don’t come back at all.”

“Which is okay,” Skye adds, “because there’s always plenty of different stuff to put on!”

The other two girls coo in agreement. Jay, however, merely strikes a pose, gracefully running his fingers through his thick brown hair. His expression is dim and dreamy.

Rufus grabs Noble’s arm.

“We’re in luck,” says Rufus. “I think we’ve found a way into the memory heap.”

From his tone, it’s clear that this is meant to be good news. But Noble has no idea why.

He clears his throat. “Oh?” is all he can come up with.

“It makes sense,” Rufus continues. “This is a kiddie fashion program. Most of its dynamic memory would be used to change the clothing stock. And if we’re
really
lucky, the software designer didn’t worry about installing good internal defenses.” Without warning, he suddenly whirls around to face Brandi. “Show me that laundry chute. I need to check it out. And you …” He snaps his fingers at Krystalle. “See what you can find for my friends to wear.”

Noble is surprised when Krystalle trots off quite happily, with Skye at her heels. “First stop, sporty casual,” the black-haired girl cheerfully observes, before they both vanish into Krystalle’s wardrobe. Brandi, meanwhile, heads in the opposite direction. Teetering along in her cork-heeled platform shoes, she guides Rufus back into the room he just left, past rack after rack of brightly colored garments. Noble follows them both, dragging Yestin. As they all gather in front of an elaborate, scroll-topped cupboard, Noble says to Rufus, “What about the man in the white coat? You told us he might show up again. And the hatch is just over there.”

“I know,” Rufus says, nodding. “Which is why we have to hurry.” He reaches up to tap Brandi on the shoulder. “We don’t have time to stop and admire your handbag collection, if that’s what you’ve got in this cupboard.”

Brandi can’t suppress a smile. “My handbag collection wouldn’t fit in this cupboard,” she informs him,
turning a gold key in a filigree lock. Then she flings open the cupboard doors, revealing an unpainted stretch of wall with a large, square hole in it. Sure enough, a sign over the hole reads laundry. Craning his neck for a better look, Noble can see that the hole is actually the mouth of a metal shaft that drops straight down toward some distant, shadowy destination.

Rufus sticks his entire head into the hole. “Oh, this is big enough,” he announces, his voice echoing strangely. “It might be a bit of a squeeze for Noble, but not if the rest of us are behind him, giving him a shove.” Withdrawing his head, Rufus issues further instructions. “You know what we need? We need clothes. Lots of ’em. Now.”

Noble frowns. Yestin gapes.

“What kind of clothes?” Brandi says.

“Any kind. It doesn’t matter.” When she stares at him in confusion, Rufus tries to explain. “All you have to do is rip ’em off the hangers,” he tells her, waving at the nearest rack. Then he spots Krystalle, who’s just walked across the threshold. She’s brandishing an armful of clothes. “Oh, good,” he says. “Why don’t you dump those in the chute?”

But she won’t, because some of the clothes are for Yestin. “I think this T-shirt will fit,” she tells him kindly. “You need more color, but nothing too strong or no one will see your face. I’ve got some funky board shorts, too. And some hipster capris that might work.”

“Hand ’em over, then.” Cutting her off, Rufus
proceeds to throw his weight around. He orders Yestin to change. He instructs Noble to find a shirt he won’t burst out of. He tells Krystalle to fetch more clothes and Brandi to consider her future. “You might be trendy now, but that won’t last,” he declares. “Some hot new fashion dolls will come along, with cuter names and better support software, and the kid who installed this program will drop you like last season’s lipstick. You’ve got to think ahead. Make plans. Be true to yourself.” As Brandi goggles at him, looking mildly flustered, he has a flash of inspiration. “Here’s a start,” he proposes. “Why don’t you go and pick your own travel outfit? Something that
you
want to wear? Only it has to be practical for sliding down a laundry chute.”

Brandi catches her breath. “You mean … I can choose anything at all?” she asks. “Right now?”

“Right now,” Rufus confirms.

There’s a brief silence. “Can I pack a bag?” is her next question.

Yestin, meanwhile, has been busy changing. “What do you think?” he suddenly inquires. He presents himself to Noble, twisting and turning, his arms outstretched to display his new outfit. “Do you like it?”

“Um …” Noble doesn’t think that short pants are much of an improvement. In his opinion, Yestin’s stick-thin legs need covering up. “It’s a nice blue,” he finally remarks.

“Oh, that’s
way
better!” Krystalle assures Yestin. “You don’t look so sallow, now. And it brings out the blue in your eyes.” She thrusts a puffy silver garment at Noble. “What about these harem pants for you?” she asks. “They’ve got elastic—see? So they’d definitely fit. And you’d look kinda cute, like a genie or something.…”

Noble recoils. “I can’t wear those!” he protests, eliciting an impatient scowl from Rufus.

“It’s just camouflage. It’s a safety measure,” Rufus points out.

But Noble isn’t persuaded. “I’m not wearing them,” he says.

Then Brandi reappears, dressed in a gray silk jacket, cropped black leggings, a filmy belted tunic, and patent-leather ballet shoes, topped off by hoop earrings and a capacious handbag. “I thought black and gray would be more practical for the laundry chute,” she declares. Rufus favors her with an approving nod, while Krystalle stares at her, openmouthed.

“Oh, my God,” says Krystalle, before raising her voice. “Skye! Jay! Come in here and check this out, quick! Brandi’s an
independent dresser
!”

“Okay.” Ignoring Krystalle, Rufus focuses his attention on Brandi, Noble, and Yestin. “First we’ll stuff a whole bunch of clothes down the chute. Then we’ll send Noble down after them, because he’s the heaviest. And then Brandi can go next.”

“But what’s
at
the bottom?” Noble interrupts. “You haven’t told us.”

“Yes, I have. It’s the heap, remember? It’s a dynamically allocated memory storage facility.”

Noble blinks.

“It’s where the programs dump blocks of memory during their run times,” Yestin hastily butts in, “and some of the memory is recycled, and some of it becomes trash because it won’t be used again.” Faced with Noble’s utter lack of comprehension, Yestin finishes lamely, “The whole thing’s kind of confusing.”

“Which is why you don’t have to worry about it,” Rufus instructs Noble. “The important thing is that the heap is full of discarded information—information we can use to get into really well-defended parts of this computer. Like the parts where the Colonel hangs out, for instance.”

Noble grunts.

“It’s also a cool place to check out our options,” Rufus adds, for Brandi’s benefit. Then he turns to Jay and Skye, who have finally emerged from the other room—perhaps because they want to inspect Brandi’s new outfit. “You two! Pick up all the clothes you can find and stuff them into this laundry chute, okay? Just keep shoving ’em in until I tell you to stop.” To everyone else, he says, “Well? What are you waiting for? Clothes, people—we need more clothes!”