Coda (21 page)

“Good morning, Anthem,” Tango says, following me into my cubicle. Ready to give my usual response, I glance at her. This is not her normal, automatically chirpy self.

“Hi?”

Her lips twitch and her eyes sparkle as she gestures for me to sit so she can check my vitals. “Are you feeling well this morning?” Her shoulders shake.

“I’m fine,” I say at normal volume. “
What’s up with you
?” I add in a whisper.

“Excellent. Deep breath,” she says, pressing the cool metal stethoscope to my chest. Finished, she turns my head and leans in to inspect my neck jack. Not an everyday part of this routine, but she does it sometimes.
“I’ll just bet you’re ‘fine.’ That was some kiss last night
.” My heart skips several beats—at least she’s done checking that. I jerk away to stare at her.

“
You
. . .” I don’t know what to say. She was there, obviously. It’s not much of a surprise that I didn’t notice her, but Tango is a good little Corp tech—goes to the Sky-Clubs every night to mingle with others of her status and higher. Deftly, she maneuvers my shock-frozen limbs until I’m in jacking-in position, then puts a finger to her lips. A sign. My secret is safe.

“What are you in the mood for?”

Oh, hell. She’s worse than Scope’ll be. I ignore the tears in her eyes.

“
Crime & Punishment
,” I say, glaring. I’m starting to think that top-of-the-world feeling I woke up with is because the whole damn Web’s flipped on its axis since yesterday. I’m happy and Haven is mine and Tango is watching bands play illegal music.

She finally calms herself. “You and those books. Hold still,” she
says, unfurling the loop of cable that will hook me up to the Grid. “
You’re really good, Anthem
,” she whispers as I’m plugged in and that strange sensation takes over me.
“You really think we can make a difference?
”

“Yes,” I say, but I can’t move my head and I think she’s already gone, leaving me to Russian literature and my spinning mind. If word has climbed this far up the Web, to Tango’s ears, other people know, too. We can’t keep the secret any longer. Electricity hums and flows from my body as I stare at the ceiling. The Corp is looming, powerful, and I’m just giving it more every day. There’s going to come a time when I’m too weak to fight, when juice and chocolate won’t be enough to restore me.

It takes all evening to recover from the level-seven drain Tango put me on today, apologizing as she jacked me in. I get it. The twins run around, jumping over my sprawled legs on the living room floor. I drag myself up to put them to bed and get ready, covering the dark circles under my eyes with makeup.

Being at the club on an ordinary night feels weird now, like I’m in some fantastical house from an old book where the same door opens on to different rooms depending on the situation. Pixel’s greeting is as friendly as ever—the undercurrent of conspiracy wouldn’t be obvious to anyone overhearing us. I hope, anyway.

“Took you long enough,” he says, running a hand through strands of green.

I shift my gas mask so it hangs over my shoulder. “Not you, too.” My tablet exploded with messages from Scope when I checked it at lunch, and again after work. I started to delete them unread after the first twenty.

“Hey, just happy for you. She’s in there, and she looks—” He shakes his head. “Lucky she only has eyes for you, I’m just sayin’.”

I laugh and open the door. The music grasps me and yanks me into the middle of the club. The harsh drums of an energizing track have everyone’s feet stomping, lifting, the people a visual embodiment of sound. Bright mouths outline lyrics, but nobody sings. I feel sorry for them.

I’m late, like always, but it’s on purpose now. I won’t be recognized by anyone who comes here on Sundays; they’re all too high. I can’t afford to replace another shirt.

Pixel’s right. She looks . . . Black latex encases legs I know intimately after last night, a matching corset is strung with pink laces that reveal an inch of olive skin on either side of her spine. I just got here and already I want to leave, with her, but she’s seen me and I’m dancing, pressed against her, my face buried in her hair.

It starts to work. The music fills my bones with light that spills out, ricochets around the room, and bounces off chrome and plastic. I don’t know the differences in our bodies anymore; Haven and I are one person, floating and falling on crests of melody. Magnetic, we part and join again and again. I’m not sure what’s so funny, but I can’t stop the laughter that joins the encompassing noise from the speakers
.

I go deeper and higher all at once, flying on the feel of her, the twins’ smiles, the mirage of the stage along that wall, calling to me. Strength rushes my body—I’m powerful here, in this room, ready for anything
.

I am tickled with light and taste the keyboards, metallic and sweet. Skin is hot, electric velvet against my fingertips and yes, she is all I need. She and Alpha and Omega and my guitar, safe and full of happiness that doesn’t die as soon as the speakers shut off
.

Coherence is leaving, chased from my mind by the drug’s relentless pursuit. For tonight, I surrender—dance harder, laugh louder. I was tired before but not now. Now I can take over the world
.

Son of a bitch, that hurt, even with the painkilling tracks just ending in my ears.

“Never thought I’d see the day, man,” Scope says, starting to clean up the area around the chair in his studio. “Feel okay?”

Actually, it stings like hell. I finally found what I wanted, and now fresh chrome gleams on the back of my right hand.

“Be careful with it for a few hours. You know, no one’s going to know what it means.”

“I know what it means.”

At a casual glance, it will probably look like nothing, just a strangely decorated circle. Anyone who has seen or read about such a thing will probably think it’s a set of crosshairs from a gun. And I am making myself a target, but that’s not what this is.

I spent an hour flipping through Johnny’s old musical theory book this morning. Its pages are crisp and thin from age, its print is worn out in places from the touch of too many fingers, and its corners are curled like petals. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for until I saw it.

A coda symbol, used to signify an ending. The final piece of a song that isn’t like the verses and choruses before it.

“Ready?” Scope asks. He opened the studio just for me, and now we have to go.

“Yeah.” I wince as I swipe my wrist to pay, and the beep feels like needles in my ears. We walk through the bustle of Saturday, making sure no one is looking before we duck into one of the tunnel entrances Pixel’s told us about and follow yellow arrows to the club. Haven is waiting under the trapdoor, a few deliberate feet from the slimy walls.

“About time,” she says, lowering her flashlight beam from our faces. It catches my hand for a split second on its way down and makes it to my knees before she jerks it back. “Anthem!”

Scope snickers. I look down at my new chrome, glowing against my skin. “Yeah.”

“Let me see! What is it?” she asks, careful to hold my wrist, well away from the tender area. I explain while Scope climbs the old crates to the ceiling.

We hear voices as soon as we open the storage room door, and Haven smiles wryly at me. I didn’t exactly take the time to introduce everyone after the last show. We were out of there, down in the tunnels, before the last note finished buzzing from the speakers.

“Hey,” I say to the group assembled on the club’s main floor. “Guys, this is Haven.”

Most of them wave and give their names. Pixel and Yellow Guy smile at her. Mage surprises me, standing, grinning as he comes over to us.

“Haven,” he says. “
The
Haven?”

I try to remember if I’ve ever told him her name. “Depends on who’s asking,” she says, metallic eyebrows arched.

He holds out his hand. “Mage.”

A wide grin spreads to match his. “
The
Mage?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Do you know what the hell is going on?” Scope whispers. I shake my head, staring at their clasped hands and perplexing delight.

“Mage and I are old friends, kinda,” Haven says. “It’s a hacker thing.”

“No point in bragging if you don’t tag your code,” Mage says to me. “Course, she has a lot more reason to brag than I do.”

“I get lucky,” she says. Mage laughs.

“Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

“Been busy with something.”

My mother’s memory chip. Another wave of gratitude washes through me. “We should get to work,” I say. The others are getting restless.

“Anthem’s right,” Haven says, looking around at everyone. Pixel, Yellow Guy, my band and Crave’s, the three girls who go onstage first, and the duo who play after them. I can’t remember all of their names even though I heard them five minutes ago. “We have to do it now. One more concert, and we tell them we’ve picked a day to attack. There were a thousand people in here last week. If we’re smart, that’s enough. We ask them to stick around after the show and assign them all a position.”

“You solved our biggest problem?” Scope asks, looking smug. “I knew we needed you.”

“Sort of. We don’t need to know
who
they are, just where. Doors at the Corp are like doors everywhere, but I can hack in and put them on emergency lockdown. Standard security procedure. Trap them inside, then unlock as needed. Less chaos, meaning we won’t need weapons.” Haven looks at me. I’ve told her how I feel about that. “But thanks to Crave, we’ll have them if we need them.”

“I still say we storm in and open fire,” Yellow Guy says. Haven scoffs.

“Do that, and they’ll kill us all without a second thought. You think we can take them on by force alone? Not a chance. The Corp is ruthless,” she mutters. “Believe me, I know.”

We all do.

“Blindly storming headquarters, even with guns, isn’t the answer,” Haven insists. “You have to do it the right way. Look around here; almost all of you work for the Corp in one way or another.
They already think you’re part of them. That you believe what they do, right? It’s like using this place for the concerts. They don’t look here because they don’t expect it. All of you can walk into the building, and no one will suspect you.
Then
use the army you guys have already built up here.”

I overheard my father talking about it. They were discussing ways to get inside the groups
. I grip her hand tighter.

Yellow Guy stares at her through narrowed eyes.

“Tomorrow,” agrees Pixel. “Just don’t start a riot and destroy my club, okay?” He grins. “Save it for headquarters.”

“We’ll try.”

“We’re really doing this,” Haven says quietly to me, inspecting the new chrome on my hand. Everyone’s broken off into groups, talking amongst themselves.

Every cell in my body is taut, poised. A crossroad is coming; I can feel it.

I slip my arms around her waist. “Yeah, we are. Are you ready?”

She hears what I’m not saying. “I picked my side a long time ago,” she says, leaning in to kiss me. If I were a better person, less weak, less selfish, I’d tell her I’m not worth going against her family. I have nothing really to offer her; I won’t even live as long as almost any other guy she could choose. But her lips are against mine, we’re tongue to tongue, and it’s an excuse to stay quiet, keep her against me until the opportunity passes.

We go back to my place after the meeting breaks up and settle in to an afternoon with the twins that feels weirdly domestic now that I don’t have to try not to touch her all the time. Alpha and Omega make up for the days they didn’t get to see her. Jealousy nibbles at me, but it was my own fault. They’ll spend tomorrow night with Fable, so we take extra time with dinner and bedtime stories, Haven
making sure they brush their teeth while I feed my father and set up a few tracks for him.

Scope and Yellow Guy will understand why we’re not at the club.

Rain is splattering the windows when we wake up and continues all morning, a soundscape for my restlessness. “Will you be here tomorrow, Haven?” Omega asks as she ties his shoelaces, his little face worried.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says, smiling and kissing his forehead. Something in me relaxes on Omega’s behalf. Alpha gives me a hug before grabbing her bag and taking Omega’s hand to drag him out the door and downstairs to Fable’s. We give them a few minutes head start, maybe a bit more, and venture out into the rain.