Unplugged (26 page)

Jude sounded so convinced. However misguided she was, I could see how she could easily become a leader. Someone to whom other Keepers listened. “Bodies aren't the same as gold,” I said. “People don't put them up for sale.”

She picked up a tiny blue china cat from the table in
the sitting area, turned it over in her hands, then set it back down. Looked up. “Tell me. When Emory Specter announced the Race for the Cure had been won and that bodies would be removed from the plugs and destroyed, how did people react? Did they weep and mourn? Did they even care?”

I looked away. I could almost hear the cheers and applause from the funeral. It was such a vivid memory. Even though Jude's words chilled me, in the most messed-up way, a Body Market made total sense. “No,” I said quietly. “People were . . . excited. Relieved. They cared only insofar as they would be liberated from the body, and soon. The only life for them is a virtual one.”

Jude nodded. “To the App World, bodies are a burden, something to be transcended, to be left behind. But here, bodies are this world's most abundant natural resource. Why shouldn't we exploit it? Why destroy something that has such value to us and to the rest of the world?”

“You really believe this is the right thing to do,” I said.

“Yes,” she stated with conviction. “I wish you hadn't gotten caught in the middle. If only you hadn't unplugged . . .” She trailed off.

“But I did. And I'm awake.” My voice rose in anger. “So now what? What are you trying to convince me of? Am I supposed to be sympathetic and let you sell me?”

All the air went out of her. “No,” she whispered.

“No?” I asked, surprised that this was her answer. “Then what?”

She reached for my dress, fingered the fabric, let it go again. “There is to be a masquerade ball tonight in your honor, and to celebrate the opening of the Body Market—that's what these gowns are for. There are buyers from all over the world who've come to see you. The masks are to protect the privacy of a few of our more skittish guests.” Jude's breathing was labored. “Everyone is here to preview the merchandise before we plug you back in.”

Nausea grew in my middle. Disgust crawled over my skin.

Jude shook her head. “But I can't go through with it. Not now.”

Relief quickly replaced the nausea. I stared into my sister's real face. Saw the lines that had grown around her mouth and her forehead. The way her eyes left purple shadows on her skin. “We'll do this together, then. We'll leave, instead of going to the party. We'll escape. That would make a statement, wouldn't it? If the leader of the New Capitalists didn't show up tonight?”

She hesitated. Gripped her taffeta skirts hard, so hard I wondered if her nails would break through the fabric. “It won't stop the Body Market from opening, if that's what you were thinking. Eventually a new leader will rise and take over.”

“So what do we do then, Jude?”

She blinked. “I don't know, Bean.”

“Let me help.”

She shook her head. “There's a cost to starting a revolution, and then abdicating responsibility.”

My heart pounded. “What sort of cost?”

She met my eyes. The color drained from her face. “The deal I made with Emory . . . it was your life, or mine.”

I shivered. “What do you mean?”

“He said to become a leader means to take a great risk, to put one's life on the line. And that if I backed down, Mom and I would not only lose everything, but that . . . I would be put to death.”

“What?” I looked at her, stunned. “He can't do that!”

She laughed bitterly. “Of course he can. He's the most powerful man in both worlds and he can do whatever he wants. Besides, the first thing I learned about becoming a leader is that the second you do, there are already others planning for the day when they will take that power away and become leaders themselves. There are plenty of New Capitalists waiting for me to fail.” A faraway look appeared in her eyes. “I can't disappoint Emory.”

I took her hand in mine. “We should run. Please, Jude.”

“No,” she whispered. “If I run, it will only be worse when they find me. And don't forget Mom. What do you think they'd do to her once I'm gone?”

I wiped tears from my eyes. There were things I needed to say to Jude, that I needed her to hear no matter
what came next for us. “You said that you were angry for a long time about Mom plugging me in and not you. But I want you to know that all my virtual life I've been grateful to you, Jude. I've thought about the sacrifices you and our mother made to give me a future in the App World. I longed for the day when I could thank you for all that you've given to me, when I could see you both again, know what you'd become, and have the chance to be a part of your lives again, to see what those lives were after all these years and maybe to stay permanently.” My voice cracked. “I always wondered if my life should be in the Real World, with my family. But I guess now I have my answer, don't I?”

“Oh, Bean,” Jude sighed.

My shoulders slumped, my lungs empty of air, my heart empty of hope. My mind was racing, my brain leaping from one possibility to the other, trying to come up with an alternative to my situation, to our situation, but finding none. I thought about all the hopes I'd had before unplugging, about the reunion I would have with Jude and my mother, about how all that hope had been for nothing; how I'd betrayed my best friend's trust and then gotten her into this mess, too. I thought about the deal I'd made with Rain, only to find that he'd tricked me, too. That he'd made me think he might care for me, and even made me start to fall for him, when the whole time he'd been with Lacy, and in the end, all he'd done was make me feel like a
foolish girl with a crush. It was then that I made the decision I knew was the only one I could make.

I looked up at my sister now. “If you were to sell me,” I began, slowly, “what exactly would the buyer do with my body?”

She stared into my eyes. “Why, Bean?” she whispered, shocked. “Why would you want to know something like that?”

“Just tell me.”

Jude studied me like I was some strange creature she'd never seen before. “We don't really know what she—or he—will do once the body is officially exchanged, the paperwork signed, etc. That's up to the buyer and I suppose it will depend on the country of purchase.”

I swallowed. “And you're
sure
I wouldn't know a thing? I'd be plugged back in to the App World and live on virtually like I'd never left?”

She nodded. “Yes. But what are you saying?”

My stomach churned and roiled. I grabbed the nearest edge of the bed, wrapping my hand tight around the carved wood. Then I took a deep breath. Straightened my back and held my head high. “I'll do it. I'll go to the party tonight. I'll do whatever you need me to do.” My throat was dry. “You made sacrifices for me your entire life. So did Mom. Now it's my turn.”

“You'd do that for me?” Jude sounded shocked.

I nodded, one quick bob of my head. “Yes. For you and
for our mother. I can't let you die or put either one of you in danger. I can't be the reason for your death.”

“Bean—”

“Stop, please! Let's just get this over with. Before I change my mind,” I added.

Her lips parted, like she still couldn't believe what I'd said. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning toward me, pressing her mouth against my forehead in a single kiss. Then she reached out her hand and I let her fix my skirts and my dress and walk me through the bedroom door into the hall outside. I was numb as we went, hand in hand, to the place where someone would decide my fate.

We didn't speak another word.

What was there left to say?

We wound through a series of rooms not unlike those in the mansion where I'd lived with the Keeper. The difference here was that they were bright and clean, sparkling with life and opulence. Soon we reached a set of grand carved doors on the ground floor. The sound of classical music played on the other side, beautiful and soft and haunting.

Jude turned to me, her expression full of sadness. “You're not alone in this, Bean. I'm going to be right here with you this whole time. Everything is going to be okay.”

I nodded. Put a hand on her arm, stopping her before she could open the door to the ballroom. She looked at me. “I have one last request,” I said.

“What is it?”

“I want to see Mom before I'm plugged back in.”

Jude nodded. “You will. She's right on the other side of this door, waiting for us,” she added as the sounds of the symphony trumpeted our arrival.

WE STOOD AT
the top of a grand staircase.

A lush blue carpet stretched the length of it, ending underneath a chandelier even bigger than the one in my room. Like my dress, the ballroom seemed something out of a fairy tale, I'd always believed such magic was possible only on the Apps. There were circular tables draped with cloth in various shades of blue. At the center of each one was a tall silver vase overflowing with brightly colored flowers, yellow, purple, and pink blooms cascading on soft green vines. A thousand candles hung from the ceiling in tiny gilded cages, a constellation of sparkling stars. At the center of everything was a wide space for dancing.
A full orchestra was next to it, the bows of the string instruments moving in perfect unison, the sad mournful song of the violins carrying high over everything else.

It was appropriate.

This would be my final memory of the Real World, both my reunion and my good-bye with my mother.

“Bean?” my sister urged.

I nodded. Took a deep breath.

She laced her fingers through mine. Her grip was so tight I thought she might crush bone. A single spotlight crossed the room and stopped when it reached our perch above the ballroom. The crowd hushed.

Everyone turned to us.

I'd wanted to search the crowd for the familiar face of my mother—or at least, what I remembered of her—and for Inara, too, but that wish was dashed. It was indeed a masquerade ball, nearly all the guests holding glittering masks to their faces, only their eyes blinking through tiny almond-shaped holes for viewing. The men were dressed in tuxedos, some of them in bright colors, red, purple, even pink, while the women wore elaborate gowns that belled wide across the floor, or sleek, sparkling sheaths that exposed more skin than they concealed. They stared and stared, at my face, my body, my hair. They whispered behind cupped hands and pointed to me.

My free arm snaked around my body, hugging my torso. The delicate dress was so airy and light against my
skin that I felt naked, and in the bright glare of the spotlight trained on us the top of it was nearly transparent.

I squirmed under their gazes.

Jude, too, now held a mask in her hand. Peacock feathers of green and blue and black, some the very same color as her dress, fanned out above her head, her eyes shielded by pale, molded silk that left only her nose and mouth uncovered. I wondered if the mask made this party easier for her to go through with, to shield what she was really feeling. I was reminded of the funeral in the App World—the one for the Under Eighteens who weren't even dead—yet this time the funeral was mine, even though I wasn't dead either.

The sounds of the symphony rose higher.

My sister turned to me. She beckoned. Stepped forward, her heels absorbed by the thick carpet.

But I didn't follow.

She turned back. “Are you having second thoughts?” she asked. Her voice wavered—she was scared that I was, what would happen if I did.

I walked forward in answer.

My back was straight, my chin up. I refused to show the guests weakness. I was already vulnerable enough and I would give them nothing more. As we descended the stairs, I looked into their masked faces. Many of the women had chosen the brightly colored feathers of elaborate birds like my sister, or mythical sprites and fairies,
but the men had chosen more vicious beasts. Bears and lions, tigers and horses and snarling hyenas. I even noticed a few minotaurs and dragons peering back at me as we passed.

I was the animal in a zoo of one, trapped and ogled and oohed and aahed at—a zoo of my sister's making. The irony that I was the only one who'd come to this event in human form wasn't lost on me. Ever since Rain had spoken of how I'd been put out on exhibit, I'd thought it horrible to be on display and be completely unaware. But now I realized how wrong I'd been.

It was far worse to be conscious.

Jude squeezed my arm. I saw how she was smiling for the crowd. “You're going to be okay,” she said.

Was I?

“You won't remember a thing after you plug back in.”

I nearly missed the next step, but caught myself.

Jude smiled at someone to our left, as though everything was fine. Soon we reached the bottom of the staircase where the blue carpet pooled along the floor like spilled water. She smiled and waved at the attendees.

The guests clapped politely.

“What now?” I asked.

“Eating, drinking, dancing,” she said. “I'll show you around. Make some introductions.”

I shook my head. Refused to look my sister in the eye. “No. I'm doing enough already, Jude. I'm not going to let
you walk me around the room to peddle my body.”

“What if it involves seeing our mother?” she asked.

My heart expanded with need and most of all with hope. “Where?” I asked. My voice was hoarse.

“Right over”—Jude craned her neck—“there!”

My eyes sought the place my sister had indicated, cutting through the crowd, who'd spread out through the ballroom again, caught up in conversation. People kept glancing my way. I would be watched all night. “I don't see—” I started to say, but then I stopped.

There was a woman straight ahead, one of the few guests without a mask. Unlike the rest, she was dressed in black, the color of mourning. She seemed older than I would have guessed, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, her face thin and drawn, eyes tired. But they never left me.

I could see traces of myself reflected in her features, in the blue of her eyes and the golden-brown color of her skin.

My mother.

After all this time.

Her gaze brightened. Her lips parted. She held out both her arms.

An invitation.

In that moment, the ballroom, the sinister purpose of this event and its guests, my sister, everything else ceased to exist. My only thought was of reaching the spot where
she stood there looking at me, at the end of a long and dangerous journey across worlds and over a decade of waiting. I went to her. It was all I could do not to run. I stopped just short of her fingertips.

“Mom?” I needed to hear her voice. I needed to be sure this wasn't another terrible trick.

“Hello, my blue Skye.” Her words filled the air around me like a protective shield. Then she pulled me close.

“I love you so much,” I said into her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin. “I've missed you.”

“Your sister thinks I'm on her side, at least enough to obey,” she whispered urgently, clutching me tight. “But I'm not. I promise you, I'm not. As much as I wanted to see you again, I hoped that you'd escape before it came to this.”

I blinked, eyes wide with shock. “But . . . but . . .” I stammered in her ear.

“Shhhh,” went my mother.

“Skylar was very anxious to see you, Mother,” Jude interrupted at my back. “She's been very cooperative,” she added. Her tone had changed.

Gone was the repentant sister, replaced by a woman who was obviously in charge.

Someone without remorse about my fate.

My mother released me.

I slid reluctantly from her arms, the long black sleeves of her dress soft against my skin. I straightened up and
fixed my skirt so I could face Jude. “Can you give us sone time alone?”

Jude smiled. Her eyelashes fluttered innocently. “Of course,” she said, and moved away through the crowd.

A tear slid down my cheek as I stared at my mother, my heart caught in my throat. I waited until Jude was on the other side of the ballroom before I spoke again. “She told me it was her life or mine.” I watched as my mother shook her head. “That if I didn't come tonight, if I didn't allow myself to be plugged back in so she could have my body to sell, that she'd be killed,” I added.

“Your sister has become quite the actress,” my mother said fiercely.

My lips parted, and my chest tightened. Could it be true? Had it all been an act? Like Lacy out at Briarwood, but this time worse, because it was my own flesh and blood? I swallowed. My insides were dry. “Mom, how did Jude get like this?”

She leaned close. “If I'd known what would happen because I chose you to plug in, I wouldn't have separated our family. Jude was never the same after you left. She became obsessed with caring for you—and she did so meticulously for years, lovingly, or so I thought at first. She'd talk about the day you'd be together again, and I thought she meant here, in the Real World for Service, but she believed wholeheartedly your reunion would be virtual. That she would plug in and surprise you.” She
paused. The sounds of the orchestra played eerily around us. “Little by little, as it dawned on her that this would never happen, she became fixated on how unjust it was, that she was stuck in the body forever, that she'd never have the chance to transcend it. Then she decided to make the most of her lot—of our lot—at least that's how your sister likes to think of it. And I believe you know what comes next,” my mother added.

I nodded. “The New Capitalists. The Body Market.”

“Your sister is punishing me tonight by forcing me to watch what she's doing to you.” My mother's eyes burned with anger. “Only Jude could get you to give yourself up to save her from death! That liar. She's shameless! I'm sure she felt this was the best way—maybe the only way—to go through with her plans,” she hissed. “Listen, I've been trying to negotiate a way out for you tonight. I know that this is a lot to take in, but you need to be strong—and you are, my darling. You proved that to everyone the moment you unplugged.” My mother cocked her head, took a step back, taking me in. Tears slid down her face, too. “You've grown into such a beautiful woman,” she said. “I wish we had more time, my love. Then I could explain everything. There's so much you still don't know about our family.” Her eyes darted behind me, as though she was just checking out the crowd at a lovely party.

I blinked back tears. “What do you mean? Tell me.”

My mother reached out and touched my hair, fixed it
around my shoulders. Looked at me with eyes full of love. “There is a fanatical streak running through your sister's veins. I didn't see it when she was young, but she has a lot of your father in her.”

“Our father?” I asked, startled.

Our mother never talked about him, who he was or where he'd come from, how they'd met or how long they were together. He was so absent from our lives I almost forgot I had a father at all.

“There's something else important you should know about tonight—” my mother went on, but stopped abruptly.

Jude returned to us right then, interrupting whatever my mother was about to confess. “Your time is up, dear Mother,” Jude sang. Then to me, she said, “And don't you think you should mingle with the guests?”

“Don't you mean buyers?” I asked, turning away.

My mother laid a hand gently on my arm, the touch so simple and slight, yet I wished she could hold on to me forever. “You should eat something, Skylar. And drink something, too.” My mother nodded toward the tables at the edge of the ballroom heaped with edible delights. Fruits and cakes, sea creatures still in their shells, looking as though they could wake at any moment, great bowls of salad and fountains of champagne. “You need your strength. The roast beef is particularly delicious. You must try some.”

I looked at her strangely.

Jude seemed pleased at our mother's approval of the feast she'd laid out for everyone. “That's a wonderful idea. Perhaps if Skylar gets something in her stomach, she'll be able to relax. She didn't eat a thing that I left in her room. You must be hungry,” she added, nudging me toward the tables, pointing the way with her hand.

“Go on,” my mother urged. “We'll talk more in a bit. Do this for me, my Skye. Make a mother happy and feed yourself.”

It pained me to cut short our conversation, and I wasn't even hungry. But it seemed a small enough thing that my mother was asking, and though I didn't particularly want to do as Jude told me, I blocked that out for now. What my mother wanted from me was so typically parental, telling a child to eat, making sure I took care of myself, that I found myself obeying her, walking through the crowd toward the other side of the ballroom. People gave me a wide berth, as though they preferred to watch me from afar, or maybe my sister had directed them not to come near the merchandise.

Which was fine with me.

I skipped the plates full of cookies and bowls heaped with trifle, the tables laden with whole roasted fish and lobster tails, and went straight for the one where I thought I might find the roast beef, to comply with my mother's wishes, however odd. I stopped in front of it and my stomach clenched. The smell of cooked animal flesh
was sickening. I was about to walk away, to excuse myself to my mother and explain that I simply couldn't get anything down, when something caught my eye and drew me back.

My stomach unknotted.

And I smiled—the first genuine one all evening—as I understood what my mother had really wanted for me.

There were knives. They were small, but they were sharp, meant for carving the thick bloody meat laid out across so many shallow china platters. Their handles were covered in blue mother-of-pearl, and along the side was a long sliver for enclosing the blade. They fanned out across the tablecloth, pretty souvenirs for the guests. They glittered as bright as jewels in the candlelight, reflecting bits of chandelier and pieces of the frescoed ceiling.

Daintily, I piled a tiny plate high with roast beef.

Then I picked up a fork and a knife.

When I was sure no one was looking, I carefully folded it and slid the knife into one of the looping folds of my gown, grateful for the elaborate bustles around the wide, structured skirt. I shifted a little, back and forth, satisfied that the knife was safely tucked away. Then I looked across the long table and saw that next to each plate of pork, of venison, of beef, and of lamb was a new set of knives, all of them decorated with blue pearl handles in various hues to match my dress.