Simulated: A Calculated Novel, page 16
“I’ll tell you everything I know about him,” I said, peering over his art. “Might take years though.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He leans over to kiss my cheek. “And speaking of poetry…this is for you.”
I looked down at the Chinese characters, each stroke artfully brushed in black ink, and read it.
sea and sky invited me for a trip, but i heard your voice, and said no thank you.
gold and silver offered me luster, but i saw your face, and turned them down.
time and mystery promised me secrets, but I held your heart, what more could I want.
Speechless, I threw my arms around his neck and nuzzled my face into his skin, soaking in his scent. “You should write poems more often.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve written a poem about you. Just the first time I’ve shown you.”
“When will you show me the rest?” I ask peering into his big dark eyes.
He laughed. “We’ve got years remember?”
Except, we might not have years, after what happened yesterday.
I shrink down next to the intricate bell tower on the roof, watching the light reflect on the three glass domes. Poor Qadar is sitting in the stairwell, watching me from a distance. He didn’t complain when I woke him. He even offered to make me authentic qahwa arbi, a Turkish style coffee made with a zizwa he carries with him. It’s sweet and grainy, but also stiff and strong, biting back with each sip. I need that right now, especially as I wait for a call from my dad.
He rings a minute later and after a brief chat where I recount nothing but a lovely adventure in the blue and white paradise of Sidi Bou Saïd, my dad admits he’s doing better than expected, even started making some new business plans. I’m glad he has something to focus on other than me.
After we hang up, I turn my gaze to watch the clouds shift and billow. My conversation with Montego runs over and over in my head. I keep searching for where I slipped up.
No one was hurt, no historical palace was destroyed, but still, I botched the plan. Montego will be locked up and interrogated. There is zero chance he will make it to Friday’s deal with the Successor. No chance to vouch for Kai. I can’t figure out what went wrong. What triggered his disbelief?
Thankfully, half of our job is in motion. With Noble’s SMOKE now uploaded to Montego’s holothumb, the team can trace the previous PSS tech sold to the radicals, like Veil. The prods already uncovered four attacks planned on historic or government sites in Tunis and identified three names and faces they believe are connected to them. The Tunisian government is now on the case and arrests will begin. The momentum for their coup has slowed, and the radicals are not happy. They’re attempting to set up Veil in another government host site. But it’s the Successor and the Loyalists who are my concern.
Apart from the coup, Eddie detected Veil in cities in North Africa. Thankfully, PSS can use SMOKE to wrangle PSS software into Cyber Island. The team considers this a victory. But I can’t celebrate.
Kai and the Successor are still out there, possibly in the same room. We might stop the coup, but not the Successor’s plans if SMOKE isn’t joined to Madame’s master-file. Especially, since no one knows who the Successor is. Madame operated with no one knowing her identity. Every meeting she set up could take place without anyone even knowing she was in the room. She was a ghost. If the Successor is anything like Madame, they’ll do the same thing and get away with it. They may even figure out who is interfering with the radicals and call Friday’s deal off.
The Tunisian sun is above the horizon now, a fiery orange. It blinds me slightly as I face it. But I welcome its warmth.
I pull out my phone and flip through photos, landing on one of Kai, my dad and I at the beach. That day I’d noticed a group of young men harassing a young girl by the sidewalk. I looked up at Kai, who knew what I was thinking. He gave me a sharp nod, and I strutted up to the group, Kai remaining with my father. Even as I walked toward them, that protective fire started to roar. With one command, the boys wilted and fled, tails between their legs. I spoke with the girl, slowly becoming myself, then watched her climb into her car, safe.
On the drive back, my father looked at Kai. “How did you know she’d do that?”
Kai smiled. “Your daughter has taught me to never underestimate anyone, especially her.”
I think of him now, and how he believes what he told my dad even when he sees me at my weakest. I don’t let my guard down easily, but Kai’s seen it all. He’s my haven. When a memory triggered a fear, or a nightmare hit me, I tried to hide it. But he always knew. “It’s ok,” he’d say, wrapping his arms around me. “You don’t have to be strong when you’re with me. I know who you are.” Not as much as I know who he is. He’s every bit Chan’s son, smart and commanding, but he’s also Red’s nephew—a tinkering boy who loves orchids, calligraphy, and wants to save the world.
Which is why he’s somewhere in this country and why I need to find him. How will the new Successor punish people who don’t deliver on their promises? My thoughts trail off to dark places. I lift my cup and gulp down the last sip of espresso leaving the dregs of coffee grounds at the bottom.
Then I message Noble. Is Kai okay? But two minutes later, he hasn’t texted back.
My sim glasses are in my bag, taunting me. My mental calculator is what I need to solve this equation, but the sims aren’t digging up my numbers fast enough. Still, Noble’s words linger in my head. Your subconscious is gathering clues.
He’s right. I had hints that Kai and Madame were involved with the stolen Blacklist tech before I had proof. So then, what am I missing?
With Qadar watching, and probably wondering what the heck I’m doing, I throw a sweatshirt on the ground, recline onto my back, and slip on my sim glasses.
“K2, load phase two from Monday.” A black screen comes on and Tunisia fades away.
Running.
I open my eyes to a thousand people all around me. My feet are already pounding on the cement below. As expected, it’s night and I’m in downtown Shanghai, but on the other side of town. My back is covered in sweat. My chest hurts as I pant. Sharp wind slices through my shirt as I run. But I don’t stop.
This time I’m not dizzy and I know what I’m looking for. I sprint to the square where the fighting is happening.
Pay attention Jo. What triggered Montego? Wake up, I command my gift. Every detail is important.
I run until I’m out of breath, I skid to a stop in front of a crowd. Jabs and kicks are already in motion. This time I squint, focusing harder—forcing my gift to wake up—but nothing stands out.
I resort to child’s play and count. A new detail pops out at me. Nine people are in the ring. Nine people watching.
There are actually two fights within the fight. What does it mean?
I edge closer, pulling my hoodie down to shield my face. Between swinging fists and foaming spittle and crimson blood, three men all wear sharp suits. Kai is locked in what looks like a deadly battle. His face is so different from the Kai who held me when the world was crumbling back in China. His eye is a black sunken moon, and blood kisses the corner of his mouth, a thin focused line. I can’t tell if his face is a mask of focus…or hate.
My numbers go wild, but nothing makes sense, like my mind is trying to calculate a dream that won’t compute. Maybe it’s because Kai is a bloody mess. He turns and starts fighting a man twice his size. I almost worry until Kai crouches down, rounding up for a kick. I’ve seen him fight so many times, I assume he’ll go for the knee or groin, maybe even the neck, but his foot slams into the man’s chest and he goes flying. Kai starts circling around a new opponent in the second fight.
Circle two steals my attention. They’re fighting dirty, using weapons, while the clean suits back off. Is one group the radicals and the other the Loyalists?
Then just like last time, the fight ends and Madame yanks on the X girl’s arm who trails behind her in perfect sync. Kai leaves with them.
My head vibrates like turbulence in an airplane and I still don’t have a clue what triggered Montego. I’m about to follow Kai and the X girl when I notice the man Kai kicked. He’s still on the ground. Not moving. Not breathing.
My stomach drops. My heart is galloping, like I’ve had too much coffee. Kai wouldn’t kill anyone in real life, would he? He’s not that type of guy. He’s like Red…right? But the question won’t fade. Is this the life Kai really wants? Is this the life I want with him?
A black screen comes on before I know it. My eyes open to the glass domes on the Saint Croix rooftop. The sun is warm on my body now.
The blue sky overhead does nothing to take away the images of Kai killing that man. And for what—an undercover job? It’s not possible. Even if the man was like King, Kai wouldn’t kill him. I shake my head and try to roll over the details of the scene but there is nothing significant highlighting the Successor.
I need a distraction. Need my gift to wake up. I consider entering phase three of my sims but rule it out for now. I don’t need any more action. I need calm. Phase one is my only option. It will distract me. I’m curious, too curious maybe, about what I’ll find.
“K2, load phase one from last week too, would you?”
“Loading now.”
Phase one opens to a distant winter sun. Soft shades of yellow like a field of frosted daises fill my room. I’m at my desk. Rays of light from my bedroom window hit my bed, highlighting the one person who turns my world upside down each time I’m here. My mother, beautiful and alive, sits on my bed. “Hello, Little Seagull.”
“Mom!” I don’t care I’m in a simulation. I fly from the chair and dive into her arms, burying my face into her shoulder, her scent like roses. Her hair is black and sleek. The petals of her lips blossom into a smile, and she strokes my head, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears. My heart is ripped from my chest as I hold her tight and don’t want to let go. My eyes sting as tears fill to the brim. Foolishly I think I won’t feel this way each time I see her, but the grief of missing someone you love never goes away. It just changes form. One minute you’re okay, the next, waves of longing to see their face and hold them hit like a tsunami.
I don’t talk for fear the sim will end. I don’t always get to choose what comes up. Sims are based on memories, recreations of the past, and my thoughts at the moment. It’s connected to my synapses. But my mom seems unaware of my grief. And as the sim sinks deeper, I remember why I’m in the room.
“Talking to Mandel again?” she asks.
I blush. It’s embarrassing. “How did you know?”
“Well, you talk about him quite a bit, and you’re always really happy afterwards.”
“Mandel gets me in a way that others don’t. We get lost in conversation.”
She laughs. “I know. You didn’t even hear me when I called you for dinner. That only happens with him.”
I turn away. “Can you not tell Dad or Mara? Mara will make fun of me, and I’ll be embarrassed if Dad knows.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed to talk to your dad about boys, you know. He gives great relationship advice. Ah, but maybe in a few years, huh?” She sighs and looks out the window. I love how she never rushed. Always in the moment. “How is your friend?”
I look up at her. It’s so real, the concern on her face. I want to stare at her forever, talk to her all night. Each time she’s in my sims, the real me wants to tell her about China, so she knows, so she can comfort me, but it never comes out. The sims are like dejá vu, like replaying a dream, and the memories are too deep. All I know is that I love her and miss her, and my mouth picks up on a story I already know.
“Mandel’s parents treat him really bad, Mom,” I say, jogging the past, my heart filling with empathy. “If he fails at anything, he’s punished. They show him off like some prize, but they never give him time to himself. They call it family duty. He’s not even allowed to do sports. Just school. They say it’s for his good but once they locked him in his room until he solved a problem for the National Security Agency. After he came out, they didn’t even tell him he’d done a good job.”
Mom sighed and squeezed me. “That’s terrible. Where does he live?”
“I don’t know. Not in our time zone. Maybe London? I wish he didn’t have to live with them anymore.”
She squeezes me. “I’m sad to hear that. More than anything, kids need to know they’re loved and safe. That’s what helps them learn and grow. That’s what helps you even when you get frustrated with your gift.” She rubs my back, as I take his postcard into my hands.
“Mom, how do you know if you love someone?” My face burns red hot. But if you can’t ask your mother, who can you ask?
“Ah, sweetheart, there are many types of love and many ways to love. And seasons to learn about love. You’ll know more when you’re older. For now, just be a good friend.”
“Ok. I will. But what do you do when you love someone?” My heart feels jumbled. “I want him to be ok…”
Mom smiles at me. “You’re doing it now. Love starts by making choices. Love is patient, it protects, it pursues. It gives and lets go. People who love each other also make sacrifices for each other.” She hums softly, her hand still circling on my back. “The way you care for people is your greatest strength. You’ll figure out what to tell him at the right time.” She stands to leave. “Now say goodbye and come down for dinner.”
I nod. There’s a foggy feeling that I won’t see her at dinner, but the mixed reality is too strong. “Thanks, Mom. Be down soon.” She’s about to leave when that hole in my heart starts aching. “Mom?”
“Yes, Little Seagull?” She turns at the door.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Jo.” Mom smiles and leaves the room.
I dive back to my chat with Mandel, scanning our previous messages.
My heart stings almost as much as knowing my mom won’t be at dinner later. But the protective side of me rumbles, remembering what my mom said.
A smile spreads on my face.
<“That clouds are not spheres, mountains are not cones, coastlines are not circles, and bark is not smooth, nor does lightning travel in a straight line…” >
My face falls. I know that quote well. Mandel repeats it often. It’s the opening sentence from Mandelbrot’s Fractal Geometry book. In his Chaos Theory he says the natural things of our earth are rarely smooth or straight but hidden inside is a beautiful order. I understand what Mandel is saying. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be the perfect boy his parents want, and they can’t see who he truly is.
A protective surge burned inside.
The Mandelbrot Set Avatar stares at me, daring me to see if that account still exists. Like I need to find out if he is still out there. If he’s ok. But static clicks in my ear, shaking me from my dreamlike state, and Noble’s robotic voice jogs me out of the daze.
“Interrupting something?”
The simulation changes into a computerized blueprint of my room. Ugh. I jump, flying back, suddenly looking around. “What are you doing?”
“Looked serious. Simulations aren’t for nerd-dating you know.” He jokes. “Something you should tell Kai?”
“Are you in my sims right now?” I ask, slightly horrified.
“Kind of? Sorry. I didn’t know you were working. I wanted to make sure I could get into the helmet at a moment’s notice. Because as you may have guessed, we need to talk. ASAP.”
“I thought I told you to call like a normal person?” I stand up, leaning against the Bell Tower.
“I thought I told you normal wasn’t my style. Besides, we need to meet. It’s urgent.”
“Can you see in here?” I ask, my glasses’ audio still on.
“Not in the way you think, but yes, in another way. Sorry. I’ll leave. I just needed access to give you what I promised.”
“About yesterday…” I reach for my arm.
“I know. Go into your room to talk?” he asks me. “It’s more secure.”
“Sure. Give me five minutes.”
“It’ll take you six and a half...”
I roll my eyes and start for the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Qadar’s at the door to the stairs. I try to race past him to beat Noble’s time but, he’s asking me questions, and I also bump into Eddie. By the time I make it inside my room, and put my sim glasses back on, Noble’s prediction of six and a half minutes is perfectly accurate. I groan.
Once I sit on my bed, a static buzz clicks in my ear.
“Hey.” He’s still using the robotic voice.
“No more computerized voice, ok?” I say. “I know the frequency is…I don’t know what it is, but I can’t talk to a robot anymore.”
“That’s why I never used my real voice before.”
Huh. So Noble knew the frequency would happen between us, even before we met.
The distinct static clicks off. He clears his throat. “But if that’s what you want, Jo, I won’t use it.” His low voice sends shock waves of energy and oscillations down my spine, waking me up like a strong cup of coffee. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he should turn it back on.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He leans over to kiss my cheek. “And speaking of poetry…this is for you.”
I looked down at the Chinese characters, each stroke artfully brushed in black ink, and read it.
sea and sky invited me for a trip, but i heard your voice, and said no thank you.
gold and silver offered me luster, but i saw your face, and turned them down.
time and mystery promised me secrets, but I held your heart, what more could I want.
Speechless, I threw my arms around his neck and nuzzled my face into his skin, soaking in his scent. “You should write poems more often.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve written a poem about you. Just the first time I’ve shown you.”
“When will you show me the rest?” I ask peering into his big dark eyes.
He laughed. “We’ve got years remember?”
Except, we might not have years, after what happened yesterday.
I shrink down next to the intricate bell tower on the roof, watching the light reflect on the three glass domes. Poor Qadar is sitting in the stairwell, watching me from a distance. He didn’t complain when I woke him. He even offered to make me authentic qahwa arbi, a Turkish style coffee made with a zizwa he carries with him. It’s sweet and grainy, but also stiff and strong, biting back with each sip. I need that right now, especially as I wait for a call from my dad.
He rings a minute later and after a brief chat where I recount nothing but a lovely adventure in the blue and white paradise of Sidi Bou Saïd, my dad admits he’s doing better than expected, even started making some new business plans. I’m glad he has something to focus on other than me.
After we hang up, I turn my gaze to watch the clouds shift and billow. My conversation with Montego runs over and over in my head. I keep searching for where I slipped up.
No one was hurt, no historical palace was destroyed, but still, I botched the plan. Montego will be locked up and interrogated. There is zero chance he will make it to Friday’s deal with the Successor. No chance to vouch for Kai. I can’t figure out what went wrong. What triggered his disbelief?
Thankfully, half of our job is in motion. With Noble’s SMOKE now uploaded to Montego’s holothumb, the team can trace the previous PSS tech sold to the radicals, like Veil. The prods already uncovered four attacks planned on historic or government sites in Tunis and identified three names and faces they believe are connected to them. The Tunisian government is now on the case and arrests will begin. The momentum for their coup has slowed, and the radicals are not happy. They’re attempting to set up Veil in another government host site. But it’s the Successor and the Loyalists who are my concern.
Apart from the coup, Eddie detected Veil in cities in North Africa. Thankfully, PSS can use SMOKE to wrangle PSS software into Cyber Island. The team considers this a victory. But I can’t celebrate.
Kai and the Successor are still out there, possibly in the same room. We might stop the coup, but not the Successor’s plans if SMOKE isn’t joined to Madame’s master-file. Especially, since no one knows who the Successor is. Madame operated with no one knowing her identity. Every meeting she set up could take place without anyone even knowing she was in the room. She was a ghost. If the Successor is anything like Madame, they’ll do the same thing and get away with it. They may even figure out who is interfering with the radicals and call Friday’s deal off.
The Tunisian sun is above the horizon now, a fiery orange. It blinds me slightly as I face it. But I welcome its warmth.
I pull out my phone and flip through photos, landing on one of Kai, my dad and I at the beach. That day I’d noticed a group of young men harassing a young girl by the sidewalk. I looked up at Kai, who knew what I was thinking. He gave me a sharp nod, and I strutted up to the group, Kai remaining with my father. Even as I walked toward them, that protective fire started to roar. With one command, the boys wilted and fled, tails between their legs. I spoke with the girl, slowly becoming myself, then watched her climb into her car, safe.
On the drive back, my father looked at Kai. “How did you know she’d do that?”
Kai smiled. “Your daughter has taught me to never underestimate anyone, especially her.”
I think of him now, and how he believes what he told my dad even when he sees me at my weakest. I don’t let my guard down easily, but Kai’s seen it all. He’s my haven. When a memory triggered a fear, or a nightmare hit me, I tried to hide it. But he always knew. “It’s ok,” he’d say, wrapping his arms around me. “You don’t have to be strong when you’re with me. I know who you are.” Not as much as I know who he is. He’s every bit Chan’s son, smart and commanding, but he’s also Red’s nephew—a tinkering boy who loves orchids, calligraphy, and wants to save the world.
Which is why he’s somewhere in this country and why I need to find him. How will the new Successor punish people who don’t deliver on their promises? My thoughts trail off to dark places. I lift my cup and gulp down the last sip of espresso leaving the dregs of coffee grounds at the bottom.
Then I message Noble. Is Kai okay? But two minutes later, he hasn’t texted back.
My sim glasses are in my bag, taunting me. My mental calculator is what I need to solve this equation, but the sims aren’t digging up my numbers fast enough. Still, Noble’s words linger in my head. Your subconscious is gathering clues.
He’s right. I had hints that Kai and Madame were involved with the stolen Blacklist tech before I had proof. So then, what am I missing?
With Qadar watching, and probably wondering what the heck I’m doing, I throw a sweatshirt on the ground, recline onto my back, and slip on my sim glasses.
“K2, load phase two from Monday.” A black screen comes on and Tunisia fades away.
Running.
I open my eyes to a thousand people all around me. My feet are already pounding on the cement below. As expected, it’s night and I’m in downtown Shanghai, but on the other side of town. My back is covered in sweat. My chest hurts as I pant. Sharp wind slices through my shirt as I run. But I don’t stop.
This time I’m not dizzy and I know what I’m looking for. I sprint to the square where the fighting is happening.
Pay attention Jo. What triggered Montego? Wake up, I command my gift. Every detail is important.
I run until I’m out of breath, I skid to a stop in front of a crowd. Jabs and kicks are already in motion. This time I squint, focusing harder—forcing my gift to wake up—but nothing stands out.
I resort to child’s play and count. A new detail pops out at me. Nine people are in the ring. Nine people watching.
There are actually two fights within the fight. What does it mean?
I edge closer, pulling my hoodie down to shield my face. Between swinging fists and foaming spittle and crimson blood, three men all wear sharp suits. Kai is locked in what looks like a deadly battle. His face is so different from the Kai who held me when the world was crumbling back in China. His eye is a black sunken moon, and blood kisses the corner of his mouth, a thin focused line. I can’t tell if his face is a mask of focus…or hate.
My numbers go wild, but nothing makes sense, like my mind is trying to calculate a dream that won’t compute. Maybe it’s because Kai is a bloody mess. He turns and starts fighting a man twice his size. I almost worry until Kai crouches down, rounding up for a kick. I’ve seen him fight so many times, I assume he’ll go for the knee or groin, maybe even the neck, but his foot slams into the man’s chest and he goes flying. Kai starts circling around a new opponent in the second fight.
Circle two steals my attention. They’re fighting dirty, using weapons, while the clean suits back off. Is one group the radicals and the other the Loyalists?
Then just like last time, the fight ends and Madame yanks on the X girl’s arm who trails behind her in perfect sync. Kai leaves with them.
My head vibrates like turbulence in an airplane and I still don’t have a clue what triggered Montego. I’m about to follow Kai and the X girl when I notice the man Kai kicked. He’s still on the ground. Not moving. Not breathing.
My stomach drops. My heart is galloping, like I’ve had too much coffee. Kai wouldn’t kill anyone in real life, would he? He’s not that type of guy. He’s like Red…right? But the question won’t fade. Is this the life Kai really wants? Is this the life I want with him?
A black screen comes on before I know it. My eyes open to the glass domes on the Saint Croix rooftop. The sun is warm on my body now.
The blue sky overhead does nothing to take away the images of Kai killing that man. And for what—an undercover job? It’s not possible. Even if the man was like King, Kai wouldn’t kill him. I shake my head and try to roll over the details of the scene but there is nothing significant highlighting the Successor.
I need a distraction. Need my gift to wake up. I consider entering phase three of my sims but rule it out for now. I don’t need any more action. I need calm. Phase one is my only option. It will distract me. I’m curious, too curious maybe, about what I’ll find.
“K2, load phase one from last week too, would you?”
“Loading now.”
Phase one opens to a distant winter sun. Soft shades of yellow like a field of frosted daises fill my room. I’m at my desk. Rays of light from my bedroom window hit my bed, highlighting the one person who turns my world upside down each time I’m here. My mother, beautiful and alive, sits on my bed. “Hello, Little Seagull.”
“Mom!” I don’t care I’m in a simulation. I fly from the chair and dive into her arms, burying my face into her shoulder, her scent like roses. Her hair is black and sleek. The petals of her lips blossom into a smile, and she strokes my head, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ears. My heart is ripped from my chest as I hold her tight and don’t want to let go. My eyes sting as tears fill to the brim. Foolishly I think I won’t feel this way each time I see her, but the grief of missing someone you love never goes away. It just changes form. One minute you’re okay, the next, waves of longing to see their face and hold them hit like a tsunami.
I don’t talk for fear the sim will end. I don’t always get to choose what comes up. Sims are based on memories, recreations of the past, and my thoughts at the moment. It’s connected to my synapses. But my mom seems unaware of my grief. And as the sim sinks deeper, I remember why I’m in the room.
“Talking to Mandel again?” she asks.
I blush. It’s embarrassing. “How did you know?”
“Well, you talk about him quite a bit, and you’re always really happy afterwards.”
“Mandel gets me in a way that others don’t. We get lost in conversation.”
She laughs. “I know. You didn’t even hear me when I called you for dinner. That only happens with him.”
I turn away. “Can you not tell Dad or Mara? Mara will make fun of me, and I’ll be embarrassed if Dad knows.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed to talk to your dad about boys, you know. He gives great relationship advice. Ah, but maybe in a few years, huh?” She sighs and looks out the window. I love how she never rushed. Always in the moment. “How is your friend?”
I look up at her. It’s so real, the concern on her face. I want to stare at her forever, talk to her all night. Each time she’s in my sims, the real me wants to tell her about China, so she knows, so she can comfort me, but it never comes out. The sims are like dejá vu, like replaying a dream, and the memories are too deep. All I know is that I love her and miss her, and my mouth picks up on a story I already know.
“Mandel’s parents treat him really bad, Mom,” I say, jogging the past, my heart filling with empathy. “If he fails at anything, he’s punished. They show him off like some prize, but they never give him time to himself. They call it family duty. He’s not even allowed to do sports. Just school. They say it’s for his good but once they locked him in his room until he solved a problem for the National Security Agency. After he came out, they didn’t even tell him he’d done a good job.”
Mom sighed and squeezed me. “That’s terrible. Where does he live?”
“I don’t know. Not in our time zone. Maybe London? I wish he didn’t have to live with them anymore.”
She squeezes me. “I’m sad to hear that. More than anything, kids need to know they’re loved and safe. That’s what helps them learn and grow. That’s what helps you even when you get frustrated with your gift.” She rubs my back, as I take his postcard into my hands.
“Mom, how do you know if you love someone?” My face burns red hot. But if you can’t ask your mother, who can you ask?
“Ah, sweetheart, there are many types of love and many ways to love. And seasons to learn about love. You’ll know more when you’re older. For now, just be a good friend.”
“Ok. I will. But what do you do when you love someone?” My heart feels jumbled. “I want him to be ok…”
Mom smiles at me. “You’re doing it now. Love starts by making choices. Love is patient, it protects, it pursues. It gives and lets go. People who love each other also make sacrifices for each other.” She hums softly, her hand still circling on my back. “The way you care for people is your greatest strength. You’ll figure out what to tell him at the right time.” She stands to leave. “Now say goodbye and come down for dinner.”
I nod. There’s a foggy feeling that I won’t see her at dinner, but the mixed reality is too strong. “Thanks, Mom. Be down soon.” She’s about to leave when that hole in my heart starts aching. “Mom?”
“Yes, Little Seagull?” She turns at the door.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Jo.” Mom smiles and leaves the room.
I dive back to my chat with Mandel, scanning our previous messages.
My heart stings almost as much as knowing my mom won’t be at dinner later. But the protective side of me rumbles, remembering what my mom said.
A smile spreads on my face.
<“That clouds are not spheres, mountains are not cones, coastlines are not circles, and bark is not smooth, nor does lightning travel in a straight line…” >
My face falls. I know that quote well. Mandel repeats it often. It’s the opening sentence from Mandelbrot’s Fractal Geometry book. In his Chaos Theory he says the natural things of our earth are rarely smooth or straight but hidden inside is a beautiful order. I understand what Mandel is saying. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be the perfect boy his parents want, and they can’t see who he truly is.
The Mandelbrot Set Avatar stares at me, daring me to see if that account still exists. Like I need to find out if he is still out there. If he’s ok. But static clicks in my ear, shaking me from my dreamlike state, and Noble’s robotic voice jogs me out of the daze.
“Interrupting something?”
The simulation changes into a computerized blueprint of my room. Ugh. I jump, flying back, suddenly looking around. “What are you doing?”
“Looked serious. Simulations aren’t for nerd-dating you know.” He jokes. “Something you should tell Kai?”
“Are you in my sims right now?” I ask, slightly horrified.
“Kind of? Sorry. I didn’t know you were working. I wanted to make sure I could get into the helmet at a moment’s notice. Because as you may have guessed, we need to talk. ASAP.”
“I thought I told you to call like a normal person?” I stand up, leaning against the Bell Tower.
“I thought I told you normal wasn’t my style. Besides, we need to meet. It’s urgent.”
“Can you see in here?” I ask, my glasses’ audio still on.
“Not in the way you think, but yes, in another way. Sorry. I’ll leave. I just needed access to give you what I promised.”
“About yesterday…” I reach for my arm.
“I know. Go into your room to talk?” he asks me. “It’s more secure.”
“Sure. Give me five minutes.”
“It’ll take you six and a half...”
I roll my eyes and start for the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Qadar’s at the door to the stairs. I try to race past him to beat Noble’s time but, he’s asking me questions, and I also bump into Eddie. By the time I make it inside my room, and put my sim glasses back on, Noble’s prediction of six and a half minutes is perfectly accurate. I groan.
Once I sit on my bed, a static buzz clicks in my ear.
“Hey.” He’s still using the robotic voice.
“No more computerized voice, ok?” I say. “I know the frequency is…I don’t know what it is, but I can’t talk to a robot anymore.”
“That’s why I never used my real voice before.”
Huh. So Noble knew the frequency would happen between us, even before we met.
The distinct static clicks off. He clears his throat. “But if that’s what you want, Jo, I won’t use it.” His low voice sends shock waves of energy and oscillations down my spine, waking me up like a strong cup of coffee. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he should turn it back on.
