Simulated, p.18
Simulated, page 18
“So let’s call Qadar and brief him?” I say.
“Not just yet. We have to get you ready.” She motions to Eddie and Pens, who run off to grab something.
“I thought I was ready?”
“We’re a bit more equipped than you think,” Ms. T says. Pens returns with tech I’ve only seen in PSS files. Ms. T hands Pens the Dissolve envelope, then turns to me. “We won’t let you go into this situation unprotected. We created these tools for a reason. And now we’re going to use them.”
Eddie struts in, a proud grin on his face. “My day has come. Finally, my tech will be used by the good guys.”
Chapter 36
I'M NOT A fan of needles but pain has grown easy for me to ignore. My hands are on the table palms up. “Technically, this is illegal, right?”
“Operation Blacklist here we come.” Harrison winks, singing an old nineties tune. “It’s the end of the world as we know it…and Jo feels fine.”
Felicia shoves Harrison. He’s enjoying this. He has watched far too many spy movies.
Pens takes a small needle. “This will just hurt a bit. Don’t flinch.” She holds out a needle and pricks each fingertip.
“I thought Ms. T was kidding when she said I’d get Fingertips.”
Pens shakes her head. “Well, we still have the prototype. At your request, we weakened the formula, so the bombs won’t be fatal or blast you a hundred feet away. It’ll still be effective, so be careful.” She takes a cotton swap to sterilize the small pricks in my fingertips and wipes away the blood. “The Fingertip bombs are a mixture of chemicals in miniature liquid gel caps easily inserted into your fingertips. The chemicals in your right hand must mix with the chemicals in the left. After the combination hits oxygen, it will render an explosion. Like this. I’ve made a low dose to demonstrate.”
Pens takes a Q-tip and dips one into an airtight vial. She dips a second one into a different vial. After she takes them out, she makes an X crossing the two chemicals at the bottom of a garbage can. “Now it has ten seconds to react to the oxygen.”
After counting down to one, a mini cloud of dust and sparks pop with a loud bang. The garbage can is smoking and there is a tiny hole burned through at the bottom of it the size of my fist.
“They can remain inactive in your body for up to a year. When you want to detonate them, all you need is a small abrasion or cut for the liquid to transfer from your fingertips onto the target, mix them, then run like you mean it.”
“Great, so now I have five bombs in my fingertips.” My stomach knots. “Is wiggling my fingers ok?”
“Yes.” She pats my shoulder. “Think of them like insurance. You don’t have to use them.”
That’s probably what Montego was thinking and look where it got him. Of course, I don’t say that out loud.
Pens checks my earrings and my smartwatch, and then sprays something into my mouth. “There you go. That should do it. A 72-hour dose of Sway’s resistance, just in case.” She hands me a lipstick container.
I shake my head. “I told you. I won’t kiss anyone for information.”
“Precautionary only. You never know. Remember, SWAY is used to calm someone, to open them up to suggestion without them remembering anything. Take the tech.”
“Well, you might as well put Veil into my watch.”
“I already did. K2 can Veil any narrative you wish.”
Ms. T walks over. “Don’t forget these,” she says, handing me my sim-glasses. “Even now, your mind is working out who the Successor is. The simulations were designed to tap into all of the memories you have stored in your brain, but they’re also meant to solve problems you didn’t know you had. Subconsciously, your mind is connecting information you’re not fully aware of yet. Any free moment you have, do your sims.”
Qadar walks in. “The car is ready.”
“Be right there.” I walk over to Harrison, who is running diagnostics on my earring’s smartdust.
Leaning over, I whisper. “Whatever you find on Coral Hacker, I need you to tell me first.”
He gives me a strange look. “Why?”
“Please, Harrison. This is personal.”
His jaw tightens, but he nods. “Deal.”
Chapter 37
RUE DE LA KASBAH, SOUK OF THE MEDINA, TUNIS
CALLING AGENT BAI was a bad idea.
“You’re in Tunisia? Guaibude. I should have known.” He clears his throat. “Then Montego’s arrest was your fault.” He rips into me about PSS botching their lead on Montego and the radicals, and how they were forced to reevaluate their operation.
“You don’t understand. The Successor is equipping the Loyalists for much bigger plans than Montego and the elections.” I give him all I can—information on the master-file, where Kai is, and even the names of the three possible Successors. “Can’t you do something?”
“Kai left his mission, missed his check in. There’s nothing we can do until his biotag pops up.” Bai sighs, muttering in Chinese. “And these individuals have no criminal background. Without direct confessions, we can’t bring them in for questioning on a hacker’s word.” His voice gets a bit louder. “Which is another thing—partnering with a hacker who broke into PSS and dismantled a government-issued biotag? I thought you were smarter than that! The guy’s hacking government satellites! You’re dealing with someone much more dangerous than you think, Xiao Feng Huang.”
Satellites. Noble’s words race though my mind. “It’s all written in the stars, Jo.” Stars are not satellites, but they’re close.
“Just dig into those names a bit more and get back to me. Kai may need our help. I’ll be in touch.”
“If you talk to Kai before us, tell him there are sandstorms in the north. And I advise you to sit this one out. Let us take care of it.”
I’m in a bad mood when I get in the car with Qadar. Bai didn’t like our plan. Didn’t even thank me for the intel. But since he’s hands-off until we have confessions, there’s nothing he can do to stop us.
On the drive to pick up Noble, I ask K2 to pull up what he can find about the NASA Tipper. One piece of information is interesting. Over the last year, accurate, anonymous tips have been given to countless researchers, not just at NASA, but Space X, Tesla, the Pentagon. But NASA has definitely received more information than any other group.
The NASA Tipper has provided new star charts and innovative ideas for Star Coding, along with breakthroughs in spacecraft and satellite technology, harnessing planetary energy, and measuring vibrations, sound waves, and frequencies in the stars.
In terms of astrophysics, it’s cutting-edge research and technology. The tipper provides formulas without asking for any credit. I briefly look into the math required to do something as ostentatious as Star Coding and even I can hardly understand it. Either the NASA Tipper is a genius, who is ahead of his time, or he’s as mad as a hatter.
The souk is a collage of color and motion. Qadar opens his window and a warm breeze rushes in carrying smells of oil frying, lamb roasting, and chickpeas boiling. All of this equates to one thing, lunch is almost ready.
My stomach jumbles up in knots when I see Noble waiting exactly where he said he would be.
“That’s him,” I say to Qadar. Noble is so good at hiding in the shadows he seems almost invisible as he leans against a spice stand in the corner of the market.
He’s dressed in dark jeans and a white V-neck and sunglasses. My fingers start tapping at my side and that familiar buzz shoots down my spine. I’m very aware of the risk I’m taking, and my gift flickers.
He’s removing his sunglasses, about to look at me in 3…2…1 Our eyes meet, and my numbers pulse, three times more projecting a numerical definition to the market streets.
The number of beautifully crafted mirrors for sale on the corner—29. Artisan rugs—6 unrolled. My mind counts everything—traditional hats hanging on racks, bronze plates in stacks, long dresses on mannequins. The distance between Noble and me. The exact symmetry of his smile. Then nothing…my view of the souk returns to normal. Like a gust of wind, come and gone.
Apart from a small plastic bag of street food, Noble carries nothing with him. Not even a jacket. It makes me wonder where his tech is.
“Aslema. Labas,” Qadar greets Noble.
“Labas,” Noble replies. For someone who is so serious and secretive, it seems bizarre he’s ok with Qadar driving us. Is it because he is a local? I should be asking more questions about them both. Instead, I keep quiet and watch.
Qadar opens the side door of the van and then leans over to me.
“Same boy at the museum, I see.” He’s not tense at all like he was at the Sparkling Star Palace.
Huh. Maybe that explains his passivity. I hadn’t known he’d caught sight of Noble. He’s better than I thought at this job. Or my dad paid him a lot extra to keep quiet.
Noble slides into the van and hands me a food container and a paper to-go cup of mint tea that wafts a fresh and tasty scent all over the van.
“I brought you lunch.”
I open the container to a baguette stuffed with vegetables, a small fried pastry reminiscent of an egg roll and a salad of grilled peppers garnished with tuna and olive oil. It smells spicy and delicious, but I have no idea what I’m looking at.
He notices. “Tunisian street food. That’s Brik a l’oeuf—careful the yolk is runny.” He points to the sandwich. “That is keftaji,” he says, sipping his tea. “And this is salata Mechouia. Watch out, it’s spicy.”
“Thanks. I can handle a little spice.” I fold back the box. Can’t be hotter than what Kai and I eat at our favorite Sichuan restaurant, which reminds me. “All right. You promised to show me Kai.”
He hands me the phone and bites into his brik a l’oeuf.
The live stream is already playing. My heart stops for a beat. Kai is in a fight. He bobs and weaves as a heavy-set man lays into him raining down punches. But the details sink in and I realize it’s just Kai sparring. I relax and watch what I’ve watched many times before. Kai’s sparring partner is North African, from what I can tell. He’s well-built and a good fighter. Kai’s focused, but he’s enjoying the match. His shirt is off and sweat glistens his upper body, defining every muscle tightened to brawl. The same group of girls sit around watching the two men. The fight ends and Kai moves to grab a drink of water. The same girl from the last video waits until the Sheikh is talking to three other men, then wanders over to Kai.
She holds up a towel. “You’re not like the other men here. I can tell,” she says. “You’re stronger than them.” She lowers her voice closing the space between them. “Even the Sheikh.” The girl slightly bites her lower lip. “And I’m not just talking about muscles.”
Ugh. My skin crawls watching her come on to Kai. The way X girls were taught to move just like Madame makes me furious. I grind my teeth. That’s why the Loyalists need to be completely destroyed.
Kai gauges her and wipes his brow. “If you’re not strong in this world, you get destroyed.” He acts so calm, so natural, like he’s two different people. “For what I want to do, I must be strong. Some call it reckless. I call it ambitious.”
She laughs, in a raspy cute way. “If you’re so ambitious then you won’t have any trouble with Albert Müller.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“He arrives tomorrow night and you weren’t on the party list. You’ll have to prove your ambitions and your loyalty if you want to be part of us.”
“Tai hao le.” Kai laughs in his arrogantly, charming way. “Finally, a challenge.”
“You sound like Madame.”
“You met her?” Kai asks.
“Only once. I was too scared to look at her. Her voice was cold, but she told me something I won’t forget. That I had nine lives like a cat. Then she gave me this.” She shows Kai a small burn on her wrist in the shape of the number nine. She shrugs. “After she was caught, I got out. But I’ve always hoped the part about the nine lives was true.” She looks at him hopefully.
Kai breathes in, listening to her words carefully. The girl might not see it, but he’s biting back anger, like I am now, reaching for my own scar, hating that Madame hurt so many people.
Kai rests a hand on her shoulder. “There’s still a chance to live all nine lives with someone who cares for you.”
Kai slips on a t-shirt and walks away to join the Sheikh, leaving the girl breathless, a flushed and hopeless look on her face. It’s not her fault, I tell myself. Kai is hard to resist, especially the way he fights for people. Still, the way she moves her body bothers me, and the way she obviously wants Kai makes me wonder about this new occupation of his and who else he’ll meet along the way.
Noble leans in. “Don’t worry. The girl is with the Sheikh,” Noble says. “He owns an entire town farther out in the desert—hotels, parties and gambling. He’s got everything he could ever want in that little town.” The girl joins the Sheikh, slipping her arms around his elbow when he announces. “Come now, everyone,” he says, “The night awaits us in this paradise. We have much to plan for.”
“What’s he planning?” I ask Noble, a bad feeling causes my chest to constrict, but no numbers flicker.
“Don’t know. But my numbers say he’s eager to test Eddie’s Radar—the tech that can hack into any Internet Service Provider to track and terminate whichever connection he chooses. Even whole towns. If he wants to take out his competition, this is the perfect way to do it.”
“So they’re all iron-fisted and bonkers, huh?” I say. Noble nods, his eyebrows wrinkled in thought as he takes another bite of brik. “Do you think he’s the Successor?”
“Not sure yet.” He chews slowly, finishing it before starting on his salata. “Any clarity from your sims? Any clues?”
“Not yet. Just things we already know. I can’t see how Montego and what I’ve experienced in the sim are connected yet.”
“Small details matter the most.” His brown eyes study mine. “I think you should do it again. You’re missing something.”
“Fine, but after lunch.” I dig into my first brik a l’oeuf, inhaling the pastry as I mumble thanks.
After I finish eating, I decide to make use of the long driving time by reclining in the far back seat of the van to do my sims. I put on my sim glasses. “K2, load Monday’s sims, all three phases in order—no process time.” If I’m going to get it right, I need to recreate it.
Smells hit me first. Salt air. Fresh cut grass. Fresh laundry.
The van’s rhythm speeding down the highway mixes with the dream-like quality of my sim glasses, pulling me instantly inside my imagined reality.
A bright summer day warms my face. Rays of sun highlight my desk, a glare reflecting on my computer screen. I pull the computer over to my bed, not surprised that my old blog is up, and Mandel’s messages are streaming through. The Mandelbrot postcard sits on my desk. I’m aware—in part—that I’ve been here before. And my mind is piecing the puzzle together. It’s pointing to Mandel. Which is confusing to me. Because each time I’m here, the part of me that knew him, wants to find him. Wants to know him. But it’s not fair to Kai. And it’s certainly not good timing. I move forward, knowing that I’m doing this to jumpstart my gift. And phase one is as important as any of them.
Dipping into our messages once more, I read a confession. This time, my own.
Sim one fades to black, and I’m thrown into phase two.
Before I open my eyes, I know something is wrong. There is no wind tonight. My back is not against a cold brick wall. My eyes snap open. I’m on the other side of town, an area of Shanghai I know well. But it dawns on me. Why is this different? It should be the same as Monday’s simulation. But I’m miles from where I should be.
Shoving my hand into my pocket, I find a crumpled assignment. I pull it out and unfold it, smoothing the paper. Assignment: You’re meeting someone. Find them.
My whole body shivers. I hesitate. I should exit. Reload the sim from Monday. I need to study the fight. Find out who the Successor is. Small details matter. But I don’t. Because a small snack shop across the street catches my eye and makes my heart skip.
I’ve spent hours in that café with Kai drinking tea and eating xiao chi.
And he’s sitting there now, alone at our favorite table.
Find them.
It’s Monday. Kai should be in the square, but he’s not. He’s waiting for me at the café. He must be. He never meets anyone there but me. I jolt forward to meet him, when I realize it’s too easy. The sim never makes my assignment so simple.
Kai must not be who I’m supposed to meet. But I don’t care. I run toward him. I want to talk with him. See him. Touch him. Ask him everything, even if it’s in a sim. Just like seeing my mom in the sims, it’s something.
The sim takes over as I jog across the street. Now I know for sure it’s not Kai I’m supposed to find because the sim is pushing against my decision, and making everything difficult, which means answers lie in a different direction. Ms. T says this when I’m fighting against my own mind. I have to follow the assignment. But I can’t. Kai is sitting there, waiting for me. He’s checking his watch. Playing with chopsticks. I can even smell the garlic and soy sauce in the air.
