BROKEN SYMMETRY: A Young Adult Science Fiction Thriller (8 page)

“You haven’t told me crap,” I spat.

“Because you’re not paying attention,” he said over his shoulder. “Your dad said it best
—
we don’t need to lie. People lie for us. They’ll lock themselves in cages just so they don’t have to face what’s obvious.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“That’s what he said to me.” He jammed his earbuds into his ears and hoisted his computer onto his lap.

The words stung. Before he could react, I rushed the couch and grabbed his laptop, and dangled it over the floor. “I’m dropping this unless you tell me what crossover means.”

His eyes narrowed to hateful slits. “Don’t, Blaire.”

“It’s important isn’t it?”

“If you drop that . . .”

“Am I important?” I said. “Tell me what it means.”

He lunged for the laptop, but I held it out of reach. I let it slip a few inches.

“Blaire,” he warned, his ashy eyes full of threat and danger.

I refused to lose this staring contest. “Crossover?”

He pressed his lips together. Through the blinds, harsh afternoon rays slanted through the office, lighting the swirls of dust eddies that Damian’s sudden motion had set in flight. His eyes drilled into me, freezing my insides.

But I was so close to the truth.

“It’s what we’re capable of,” he said, finally. “The forty-seventh chromosome. It’s not just taking up space. It gives us the ability to do something normal humans can’t.”

I returned the computer to his lap and allowed myself to breathe again, released from his spell. “Do what? Appear in other people’s dreams?”

“No, no
—
” He waved away my suggestion with his hand. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

“Charles wants to tell you himself.”

“So you have the forty-seventh chromosome too?”

“So do Charles and Amy. And your father. That’s why we work here.”

“And you’re sick right now, because of that? Because of whatever it is you guys do?”

“It’s part of the work. We all signed the agreement.”

“We’re minors. We can’t sign agreements like that.”

“Yes you can, Blaire. You did,” he said. “Where are your parents? You’re independent, right? Have you ever seen my parents? No. Amy’s the only one who’s even got a father . . . and you already know who that is. Wake up to what’s around you, Blaire. This is how it is.”

“We all die young,” I muttered.

“Not if we’re careful,” he said. “Not if you learn the rules and follow them.”

“And when will that be?” I asked. “Summer? Next year? When I’m thirty?”

“Monday,” he said. “Charles wants me to teach you how to crossover on Monday.”

Chapter 7

The weekend passed
in a blur. I couldn’t get that word out of my mind.

Crossover
.

I hated it, what it implied. Crossing over what? To get where? It sounded like a drug thing, a trip . . . and
why?

My instinct recoiled at the thought. But the worst part of all was the unease. The world felt flimsier than ever, and I could almost see through the air, see the edges of the horizon shimmer like a mirage.

Charles Donovan’s sprawling mansion crested a lush hill in La Jolla. Beyond a fence overgrown with bougainvillea, a shiny green Prius reflected the waves of a swimming pool.

I helped myself to salad, a hardboiled egg dyed blue, a slice of quiche, and a spoonful of chicken casserole, then plopped myself down by the pool next to Charles, who gazed vaguely into space. I peeled the egg, one tiny piece at a time.

“I still miss her sometimes,” he said, nibbling on his own quiche. “Amy’s mother. She left us a long time ago when your father and I were starting the company. I like to think things turned out differently in another life.”

I tried to pay attention to him, but my eyes wandered over to Damian at the edge of the pool, feet trailing in the deep end, where his unbuttoned shirt exposed a sculpted rack of tanned abs. What was with this guy?

Amy stripped down to her bikini and swam mermaid-like around his legs. And she looked good, too. Evidently, she also made keeping in shape a priority.

There went my edge.

“Amy’s not doing so well,” said Charles, watching his daughter fondly. “She’s so intelligent
—
and so outgoing
—
I think she misses being in a real school.”

“She’s homeschooled?”

“I just . . . I just thought it would be better.”

Amy swam up and boosted herself out of the pool next to Damian, tilted up her chin, and smoothed water out of her sleek, blonde hair.

“Ames, stop showing off.” Damian grabbed her around the middle and ruffled her hair into a tangle again.

She giggled, and scooted closer to him, and to my disgust, they started playing footsy in the pool.
Footsy
, for God’s sake.

I felt the stirring of something I hadn’t known for a long time. I averted my eyes from the two of them, face hot. I didn’t even know I was still capable of it . . .

Jealousy.

“She really likes him, doesn’t she?” I said.

“He’s her only real friend,” said Charles, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so focused on work I sometimes forget she’s even there; I think she just wants a normal life.”

“Where’s his family?” I said.

“No one knows,” he said. “Damian found us, believe it or not. He’s sort of an adopted son now.”

Amy trotted over, glowing. “Hi daddy,” she said, planting a kiss on Charles’s cheek. Without so much as a glance my way, she dipped a chip in the guacamole and pranced back over to Damian.

And that tiny bit of affection left Charles beaming.

And envy gnawing at my insides.

Charles loved her as much as any father loved his daughter. It was the kind of perfect, unconditional, selfless love that I would never again be the recipient of. I bit the inside of my lip, pressure throbbing behind my eyes.

Don’t cry
 . . .
please don’t cry. Not here.
 

Because I knew what she was doing. She was making it clear to me that this was her territory, that these two men belonged to her, loved her. And that if I ever tried to come between them
—

“Eat up, Blaire,” said Charles, spotting my untouched plate. “Enjoy the food, savor every bite. Because this is the last day you’ll be able to.”

***

Josh caught up with me in the parking lot after school on Monday,

“Blaire,” he said, grabbing my shoulder and tugging me around to face him. “What’s this I hear about you screwing a cop?”

I glared at him. “I’m not screwing a cop, dickwad.”

“So it’s not true?”

“Eww. What did I just say?”

“Other people think so.”

I curled my lip, shot him my most hateful stare, and continued to my Jeep.

Behind me, Josh bounced his basketball and swung it to his other hand. “So are you going to prom with me or not?”

“You haven’t asked me yet.”

“I tried.”

“Look, Josh, it’s just a bad time for me.”

“It’s that cop, isn’t it?”

“That’s really disgusting that you believe that.”

“Then who is it, Blaire?”

“It’s nobody. It’s just a bad time.”

Josh caught his ball, squeezed it between his palms until it compressed visibly, then heaved it into the street. It bounced far in the distance and rolled into the gutter. “I’m sick of this, Blaire.”

“Join the club.” I trekked the rest of the way to my Jeep, steaming and frustrated. Why hadn’t I just said yes?

Because I didn’t want to go to prom with Josh. And why didn’t I want to go to prom with Josh?

Because of Damian.

That was why. There, I’d answered the question. My face flushed at the thought of my own helplessness against the rush of emotions he stirred in me. For one thing, he terrified me. How was I supposed to quit dwelling on a boy who could haunt my dreams at will?

***

“Let’s see . . .” Amy consulted a scheduler on her computer. “We’ll put Blaire and Damian in Room A at ten o’clock tonight.”

“Schedule them in room B,” said Charles, sticking the tip of a digital thermometer in my mouth. “The mirror in room A hasn’t been replaced yet.” He threw me a reproving glance.

Amy clicked her tongue and typed it in. The thermometer beeped, and Charles recorded the reading on a clipboard and put the device away.

“Why do we need to schedule it?” I said, trying to work the metallic taste out of my mouth. “I can remember room B at ten o’clock.”

“The rest of us need to be completely out of the way once you crossover,” said Charles, leaning in close and studying my irises. “Otherwise we risk unintended consequences. We try to be careful. How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Are we travelling back in time or something?”

Charles finished examining my eyes and scribbled something else on his clipboard. “No, but you would do well to treat crossing over with just as much, if not more respect.”

“I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “Amy’s going to print out your briefing, which you, Damian, and myself all have to sign before you have permission to crossover.”

“At least Amy doesn’t get a hand in deciding my fate,” I muttered. The comment earned me a snarl from her.

“Focus, Blaire,” said Charles. “Damian convinced me you were ready. You wouldn’t want me to change my mind now, would you?”

Damian had done
what?
A wave of giddiness rushed through me
—
that he actually stuck up for me behind my back
—
followed quickly by fear. “Maybe I’m not ready,” I stammered. “I mean, I don’t even know what it means to crossover
—
”

“You were born ready, Blaire.”

“Why, because I have the forty-seventh chromosome?”

“Because you have two. Breathe normally
—
” He measured my heart rate and blood pressure, followed by my respiratory rate.

“What’s all this for?” I asked, the length of our prescreening beginning to worry me. In my mind, I listed off things that took this much preparation: brain surgery . . . space flight . . . deep sea scuba diving . . . All dangerous.

Did I even trust them?

“We’d like to measure your vitals before and after to get an idea of how well your body handles crossover.” Charles unplugged the stethoscope from his ears. “Heart rate’s a bit high. Outstanding blood pressure though. You’re in great shape.”

“I run.” And where was Damian? I was starting to feel scared without him.

“That’s good. The healthier you are, the less damaging the effects of crossover.”

“Wait
—
did you just say
damaging?
”

“We’ll get to that in a minute.”

“Now I definitely don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t agreed to anything. I’m going to explain crossover to you first and then you get to choose whether or not you’re ready.”

“What kind of damage?” I asked.

“Nothing serious. Not after a single crossover. It’s the accumulated effects we worry about.”

All this talk only added to my nervousness, and Damian still hadn’t shown up yet. Somehow, I felt like he was abandoning me.

This was supposed to be
our
crossover.

“So what am I going to do?” I said. “Crossover into outer space?”

Charles closed his medical kit. “We’ve gotten all your vitals,” he said. “I think it’s time we told you that we don’t do interior design here.”

***

I blinked. “Yeah, that’s kind of obvious.”

“Not that obvious,” he said, straightening up a little. “At least not to anyone outside. We’ve done a good job building up this company as a cover for crossover activity.”

“Which is what?”

“You might say we leverage a genetic mutation that allows us to cross over the quantum boundary between symmetries to . . . er . . . accomplish things that cannot be accomplished within the existing conditions of reality.”

“Can you maybe try not to confuse me?”

“I think everything’s going to be a lot clearer after tonight, after your mission. Here
—
” he handed me a packet which included plans of the Immunology building at Scripps, photos, and the report I myself had done on Friday. The report of the Institute’s security measures.

I stared at the briefing. “You want me to crossover into the quarantine zone?”

“It’s not teleportation, Blaire.”

“Then
what
is it
?
”

“It’s something . . . something different,” he said. “You’ll experience it tonight. Right now, just memorize the briefing. You’re the expert on security now. Your first mission is to steal enough security clearances to get us past the south security checkpoint.”

“You’re kidding.”

He smiled. “You wanted the internship.”

I lowered my eyes to the briefing, and dread settled in my stomach. “How would I even do all this?”

“Damian’s going to be with you to help you.”

“He still hasn’t trained me . . . he’s not even
here.
”

“Just think of this as on-the-job training.”

Suddenly, I understood. “I’m going to die, aren’t I? That’s what crossing over is
—
”

Charles shook his head. “No, no, no . . . this is nothing like that at all.”

“No way,” I said, forcing the brief back into Charles’s hands. “Absolutely not. First of all, it’s illegal. Second of all, I’ve heard it’s not actually a drill. Who knows what kind of virus they’ve got down there.”

“The military would be wearing gas masks if there was anything infectious,” he said. “No, the quarantine zone is perfectly safe.”

“Still illegal.”

“Only during the crossover itself,” he said. “Afterwards, what you did will be erased.”

“It’s going to take quite a demonstration to make me believe that,” I said.

“That’s why we’re having you experience it firsthand.”

I narrowed my eyes. “They’re going to launch missiles at me.”

“They won’t even know you’ve been there.”

“Am I going to be invisible?” I asked.

Charles was about to dismiss this one too, but he paused. “Actually, that’s not a bad way to put it. Invisible, but not at all in the way you’re imagining.”

Okay, we could play twenty questions. So crossing over wasn’t teleporting or dying or going back in time, but it was something like going invisible. Except not.

“No, I don’t want to do this. Period,” I said, my tone final.

I heard the door shut behind me. “She’s backing down already?” Damian strode in and leaned against Amy’s desk, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He popped a cigarette into his mouth. “I told you she would.”

My relief was instantly overshadowed by irritation. “I’m not backing down,” I said, my face hot. “I’m just not doing something that’s stupid, illegal, and dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Explain,” he said, like he’d never heard the word before.

“
Duh
, they have helicopters and tanks and a freaking phalanx close-in-weapon system
—
and a destroyer.”

“You’re neglecting one thing,” he said.

“What’s that?”

He glanced at Charles. “Have you told her?”

“More or less,” said Charles.

“You haven’t told her.”

“I explained it. Briefly.”

“In English.” Damian shook his head and lowered his brooding eyes. “Start with her dad.”

“Fine,” said Charles, rubbing his forehead. “Blaire, I think it’s time we explained what really happened to your father
—
and who it was exactly who showed up eleven days ago.”

***

“Huh? You mean that wasn’t my real dad?”

“No, he was,” said Charles. “But he also wasn’t.”

“He either is, or he isn’t,” I said. “He can’t be both.”

“Well, that may be true in high school philosophy, but in the real world things can get a little sticky.”

“No,” I said again, more forcefully. “He either is or he isn’t. Which one is it?”

“Blaire, we’re going to be getting into a lot of gray area,” he said. “You’re going to quickly learn that he can indeed be both.”

“Because of crossover?”

“Because of quantum optionality. Crossover just lets us experience optionality directly.”

“English, Charles,” said Damian from where he stood, arms crossed.

“What are you talking about?” I said.

Charles shook his head, as if to clear it and start over. “That man is what we call a reflection. He wasn’t
real
. Your actual father was lost on a mission eleven months ago. He’s . . . long gone.”

“So he wasn’t my father.”

“No, he was,” said Charles. “Just not the one you remember. He was from a world that broke symmetry with our own a long time ago, we think twelve years ago. That’s why he doesn’t remember.”

“
Charles
—
” warned Damian.

“You’re a carrier,” said Charles. “You have the forty-seventh chromosome, and that’s why you got this internship. I’m a carrier. Damian is a carrier, and Amy is a carrier.” He paused. “Your father was one too.”

“What does that mean?” I said, “To be a
carrier?
”

It was dark outside, the sunset already dimmed to a dull greenish bronze hue. Gone, like the light on my heart that made me feel like I was guided in the right direction. Everything felt weird and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be here anymore, I didn’t want to do any of this. I was in way too far over my head.

“It means you can break symmetry,” he said. “Essentially, you have the ability to cross over into parallel quantum states
—
”

“God damnit, Charles
—
” Damian’s head snapped up. “Just tell her.”

“Quiet,” he said. “She needs to understand.”

“She
does
understand. You’re just confusing her.”

“Just give us five minutes
—
”