Socket 3 - The Legend of Socket Greeny (17 page)

I turned the corner and tread up the wide
steps to the second floor. No one was within a hundred feet, except
at the end of the hall, behind the vault door of the virtualmode
lab. Four people were in there. My insatiable essence-hunger fled
into the walls and lockers and classrooms, feeding on the memories
of past students, their fears and apprehension, the joy of being
asked to homecoming by the right guy or the panic of getting one’s
ass kicked after school. They saturated the wood like blood; buzzed
inside me.

The door slid open and Mr. Buxbee walked into
the hall, looking over his big round belly at the shiny floor as he
semi-waddled toward me. His lower lip plumped out and he hummed a
quiet tune, something he always did when few people were around. My
favorite virtualmode instructor passed me without looking.

I stopped outside the door and stared at the
scanlock where a key could be waved. Not many keys were given out
to that room. The gear inside was worth more than the entire
school. I could feel the circuits inside the lock and followed them
with my mind. I didn’t need a key. I simply asked the door to open.
And it did.

The room was half the size of a regular
classroom and twice as cold to keep the gear from overheating.
Workbenches lined the walls. A large silver table was centered in
the middle. Streeter and Janette stood on each side of it, staring
at the half-spherical black object, their hands pressed flat on the
table, mumbling to each other a checklist before they tested the
locator again. They didn’t look up, consumed with the project at
hand, assuming I was Buxbee returning for something he forgot.

Slowly, I allowed them to see me.

“Holy shit!” Streeter stepped back. “How’d
you… when did you get here?”

“My meeting ended.” My voice was eerily
quiet.

He came over, hand out, and slapped it into
mine, clasping his other hand over it and shaking. I automatically
felt a connection with him. He felt a tug in his belly. I let go of
him before I started sipping on his essence, but not before he
shook his head, a little dizzy, not sure what just happened.

“I need a favor,” I said.

“All you got to do is ask.” He stepped back,
rubbing his stomach. “Give me a second, I’ll get the technician
started on a setup.”

Buxbee’s assistant, Peter Hammel, had a
college degree in networking and virtualmode world building. And
Streeter was telling him what to do. Peter didn’t seem to mind.
Janette was listening, making sure she understood what they were
doing.

I wandered to the wall where a shelf
displayed several awards. Five of them recognized the school’s
exceptional development of virtualmode training and execution,
which was primarily because of Buxbee, but two had Streeter’s name.
The larger of the two awards was a three-dimensional prism. I took
it down, the colors switching through the transparent surface.
State Champion Codebreaker.
Best high school codebreaker in
South Carolina. Did he know his endless potential?

“He talks about you all the time.” Janette
stared at the glittering trophy. “Socket this, Socket that. I wish
he would talk about me the way he talks about you.”

I looked into the award like it contained the
lifetime of memories with Streeter, each one more entertaining then
the next. I wish I could put those memories inside her so that she
could feel the same joy.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

I didn’t realize I was grinning, so I shared
a memory with her. I told her when we were in kindergarten, we
stayed the night at each other’s house so much that we each had our
favorite cereal at each house. We’d be buried behind our box on
each side of the table, slurping milk and reading the back of the
box for the hundredth time. I was a Corn Pops kid. He was Fruity
Pebbles.

“I’m glad you’re around to keep an eye on
him,” I said.

“Why? Where are you going?”

I took a long breath. “I’m not sure.”

We stared at the awards for a while longer,
then she tugged me away to the table and told me about their
progress with the locator. It was on a little stand. Their
appointment with NASA was only a week away and, aside from when it
screwed up with me, it had been operating flawlessly. It could also
mean a lot of money. She opened a holographic circuitry layout that
stretched over the table.

“What’s up?” Streeter walked up.

“Just showing Socket the locator plans.”

“Socket could figure this stuff out in his
head,” Streeter said. “You wouldn’t believe what he can do.”

Neither would you.

“So what’s the favor?” Streeter asked.

“I’m sorry, Janette, but can I speak to
Streeter alone?”

“Yeah, oh, sure… I can, I’ll just be… I’ll
go—”

“If you want to help Peter, I’m not sure he
fully understands what I need him to do,” Streeter said. “We
probably won’t be long.”

She said goodbye, grabbed her things and
left. I paced around the table, thinking where to start. How to
start.

“You all right?” Streeter asked.

“I would never ask you for this if it wasn’t
important.”

“Well, what is it? You need money? Help
codebreaking?”

“I just need to use the school’s virtualmode
portal.”

“That’s it? That’s not a big favor.”

“I might snap some alarms.”

He cocked his head. “What kind of
alarms?”

“I’m not sure, but it might get you in
trouble.”

“I’m always up for trouble.” But he drummed
his fingers on the table. “Is it that important?”

“I wouldn’t ask.”

He nodded. And drummed. Then pointed at one
of the oversized chairs against the wall. “You can’t do anything I
can’t handle. Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand.”

“All right.” He laughed, nervously, then said
with a squeaky tone, “Should I be freaking out about now?”

Yes.
“I’ll explain in a minute.”

“That’s not helping.”

“Sorry.”

He considered again. Anyone else in the world
and he would’ve called security. Instead, he sat at the mainframe
monitor. “I’ll get the transporters ready.”

“No need.”

He looked over his shoulder. “You still have
the imbed transporter in your neck?”

“I’ll explain later. Promise.”

“Sure.” He spun on the seat and crossed his
arms. “Then launch when you’re ready.”

I didn’t need the transporters or any sort of
gear. In fact, I really didn’t need to ask Streeter to use the
school’s virtualmode portal, but I didn’t want to get him in
trouble without him knowing. I’d already penetrated the entire lab,
followed the circuitry and routers down to the school’s portal that
powered the virtualmode experience that communicated with millions
of portals all over the world like a network of ethereal pipelines,
where people existed in virtual reality.

I only needed the portal to access the
Internet network so I could spread my influence worldwide, like
pouring my consciousness into a system of veins. I wouldn’t be able
to expand as far without it. I needed to feel everything, searching
for the one person that could answer my questions. I moved my
awareness through the portal and instantly stretched across the
planet, knowing and feeling everything without leaving my body. I
closed my eyes, whispering his name.

Pike.

His essence was as unique as his fingerprint.
I could distinguish the difference between every person, every
machine, everything that was operating on the worldwide virtualmode
network. Suddenly, the school’s portal contracted.

“
Artificial intelligence has breached
virtualmode.”

I forced it to open back up, sniffing the
mental realm like a bloodhound. I was around the world in a second,
sensing a strong presence somewhere in a mountainous region. I
focused my attention, brought Pike’s essence into view, honed in on
his location. It was a dead end.

The Garrison.

No way he was in the Garrison. I was sensing
the leftover memories of where he spent most of his life. There was
little chance I would find him, even with the inexhaustible power I
had. The Paladins would have him so secluded that no one could
locate him.

I contracted back into my body. Lights were
flashing everywhere, along with flickering sounds and high-pitched
alarms. The lab door swooshed open and Buxbee and Peter came
rushing inside. Streeter was already at the mainframe monitor,
shouting that he had it under control. I willed the alarms to quiet
and restored the original status of the security. Streeter
explained the crossover error of the locator and apologized. He
threw the locator in his pocket, promised to work on the coding
outside the lab. Buxbee stared at him, then he and Peter turned
back to the monitor to assure the integrity.

Streeter grabbed my arm and marched into the
hallway. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

I followed Streeter to the elevator, but not
before a security guard named Jeff Baker stopped him. “You got a
pass?” he asked.

Streeter flashed the badge strung around his
neck. “Um, we’re going to the library.”

The security guard looked around. “Who’s
we?”

Streeter shrugged.

“Better check in with Mr. Buxbee if you go
anywhere else,” Jeff said.

We took the elevator up two flights to the
top floor. Streeter’s leg shook while we waited. We stepped into
the circular floor of the library situated on top of the school’s
tower with windows in all directions. The librarians, still talking
in hushed tones even though the floor was empty, looked at Streeter
as we exited the elevator. Streeter held up his badge. They went
back to talking.

We headed straight for a back room. The
windows were wide and clear, overlooking a long wide field
stretching out toward the Interstate. The football field was to the
left and the tagghet stadium to the right, but between them was a
view of the live oaks beyond.

He paced back and forth, muttering to himself
while his fingers twittered at his side. It didn’t seem like a good
idea to tell him the truth, but somehow I owed it to him. Someone
should know. I just needed to get it out of me.

“I’ve known you forever,” I said. “You should
know this.”

“Know what?”

“Have a seat.” I pointed at the cushioned
chair positioned in front of the window.

“Why? What’re you going to do?”

“Just sit down, will you? You don’t want to
be standing when I show you this.”

He sat down, slowly, not taking his eyes off
me. “Show me what?”

“Relax, this isn’t going to hurt. But it
might freak you out a bit.”

Tension gripped his body. His muscles were
rigid, like I was going to pull a tooth. Lactic acid dumped into
his muscles, his body quivered. I had been holding myself tightly
wound up, avoided merging with the people around me, avoided
siphoning their essence but now I released it, feeling the carpet
below my feet, the furniture and dry paper in the books. My
awareness exploded outside the window, all the way to the
Interstate and the cars speeding toward Charleston.

But I focused on Streeter, his eyes wide
open. I willed his body to relax, his mind to open and accept the
coming vision. What he saw, what he felt, was the humming in my
chest, the regeneration of my fingers and the revelation of my true
nature. He saw Pivot tell me I was cloned from a human, that I was
created to help him avenge Fetter.

I receded from his consciousness, forced
myself to disconnect from the sweet taste of his essence that
whirled in my belly. Forced myself not to take from him or anything
else within my reach, even though it filled me and tingled
inside.

His fingers did not nervously twitter. His
leg didn’t bounce. Instead, he looked at me with a soft expression,
then stood, slowly came over and took my hand. He turned it over,
studied the back of the light-colored flesh and looked at the
palm.

“Are you playing with me?” he asked.

“I wish I were.”

He went to the window and leaned his forehead
against it. His breath was short. A lightness surged into his
experience. His foot slipped off the windowsill and his head began
to slide across the glass. I caught him before he fell. It was too
much. I should’ve just told him, giving him a vision was too
surreal. Even though he’d known me all his life, saw me when I
first sliced time and read thoughts, when I became a Paladin and
developed telekinesis, still he was having trouble assimilating
this. Even after everything we’d been through, this was a lot.

I placed him in the chair and allowed myself
to get inside his mind, again, this time blotting out some of the
detail. I left a faint memory of my true nature: I am not human,
I’m a product.
Congratulations, your best friend is a
duplicate!

He fidgeted after a few minutes. Snorted from
a short nap and smacked his lips. I was gazing out the window when
he opened his eyes. It took a bit for his awareness to catch up to
the present moment and the truth of what he was looking at. He was
watching me. He considered running. I couldn’t blame him. After all
that time together, he didn’t owe me anything. Maybe he should
run.

He leaned forward, then slowly stood, walked
next to me. We watched the traffic in the distance, all driving
somewhere so unimportant. He propped his leg onto the windowsill
and pointed toward the football stadium, leaving a smudge on the
glass.

“Remember our first day of school? Jared
Miles shoved me down the steps during gym and you pummeled him
right there in the bleachers, right in front of the coach and
everybody. You remember that?”

“Got suspended three days.”

“And he never messed with me again.” His eyes
darted around. Memories flipped through his mind. “You remember,
over there? Remember when Alex Deeter dared me to moon the lacrosse
team at practice? You remember that?”