Jacked (3 page)

As impressive as the size of the school was there was a sadness to it, as well. Many of the hallways echoed hollowly, doors shut against dark classrooms. The school had a third as many students as it could hold and still no one could really call the people leading the classes actual teachers. All the real ones were gone, lost in The Crash.

Tar looked with a hint of jealousy at the small children climbing on the playground equipment. Uncle Jahn had taught him to read and to write. He could add and subtract and even do some algebra, although what he would ever use that for he still didn’t know. Mr. Keisler had helped out by lending several history books that told stories about the presidents in the past and explorers searching for new worlds. Tar could remember a time when he wanted to be an astronaut like that Armstrong guy who walked on the moon.

But most of all he loved fixing things, especially apps. He had never been able to explain to Jahn what it was like to feel the power going through his hands, to see the pathways of light and dark and make it all connect together. At that moment, when a brick whistled or beeped and came back to life, that was when he felt like more than adware, felt like he had a purpose no matter what he told his uncle.

Despite all that, what he really wanted was to be able to do things with people his own age. He dreamed about someone to tell stories with, to laugh with when they did something stupid. He wanted what had been taken away from him by The Crash.

Tar walked past the school and turned down the side street toward the far side. This was where the older kids had class and it was where Toby met him during free period. Tar sat on the concrete wall on the edge of the yard and waited.

Once, when he was younger, his uncle had found out he had been to the school and whispered a warning into his Tar’s ear, which he had found scarier than if Jahn had yelled at him. “Don’t ever go there,” he’d said, and told him the other kids or teachers would turn him in to the Black Shirts if they found out what he was. When Jahn accepted he could not keep Tar away from the school, short of tying him up in the apartment each day when he left for work, his uncle had told him to keep his hands in his pockets and not touch anything, especially something that needed fixed.

Tar saw some students leaving the building. He retrieved the tablet from his backpack and placed it at the base of the wall, then he moved over about three feet and sat down. Toby would run over as soon as he saw him, but just in case a nosy teacher came by first he didn’t want anything in his backpack out of the ordinary. There was always a possibility someone else might see the tablet and claim it. If so, he would not stop them. It was safer to just let the app go than get caught with it.

Toby sprinted out of the school, leaping off the steps and landing on the sidewalk without breaking stride. His long blonde hair flew from side to side as he looked back at the boy following him. Tar recognized the trailer, a boy everyone called Shovel. Toby had told him one time that only his mother called him Clarence. Anyone else ended up with a broken nose or a black eye. Shovel stood a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than Tar so there was no way he would ever call him by his real name.

“Hey, Tar!”

“How ya doin’, Toby?”

“Chilly. You remember Shovel, don’t ya?”

The two boys nodded to each other, Tar craning his head back to look up at Shovel’s face.

“You’re the lucky one, aren’t you?”

Tar pulled his eyebrows together and tilted his head to one side.

“What?”

“You know, lucky. You’re lucky because you don’t have to sit inside that school every day.”

“I guess so,” said Tar.

“Hey! What’s this?” Toby could act surprised better than anyone. It was also his way of protecting his friend in case someone else was listening.

“Oh, chilly!” said Shovel. His voice dropped down to what passed for a whisper for him. “Is it app or is it brick?”

Toby pushed the button on the corner and a few seconds later tones rang out from the machine as it blinked to life.

“It’s app.” Toby gave Tar a smile. “You don’t know how much this is gonna help me. My grades haven’t been too good.”

“It’s too bad that the air is dead,” said Shovel, his eyes never leaving the machine. “If the air was still alive we could jack in and
bam
! Automagically you know all the answers, just like that.”

“You know we couldn’t have jacked in,” said Toby. “Nobody under the age of eighteen. Dad said those were the rules.”

“Like we haven’t got around the rules before.” Shovel laughed and Toby joined him.

“Yeah, you gotta wonder what it was like,” Toby agreed after a few seconds. “Think of a question, any question, and the answer is right there for you. No grepping around.”

Tar had stayed quiet while the other two talked, dreaming about what life had been like before The Crash.

“Yeah, it would’ve been great,” he said softly, “Right up until you went hard boot.”

“Oh, wow. Or you went zom,” agreed Shovel, never noticing the look on Tar’s face. “That would’ve been worse. Your mind goes 404 and all you can do is walk around, crapping your pants and hoping somebody remembers to feed you.”

“Shovel,” Toby said. “That’s enough.” He looked at his friend. “We’re sorry, Tar.”

“It’s okay.” He nodded toward the tablet. “Is there anything…?”

“Shhh!” interrupted Toby. “Troll alert.”

Two boys and a girl walked over. The two boys had made Tar feel uncomfortable from the first time he met them years earlier. They were just so much…more. They stood a little straighter, their smiles were a little brighter, they were a little smarter—they were just a little better than the other students.

At least that’s what they thought.

Tar did not recognize the girl but that did not surprise him. It never seemed to be the same one whenever he saw the guys. Whoever she was, though, she was beautiful like all the rest.

“Hello, Toby, Cl…Shovel,” said the leader. “I see your little friend has come around to play.”

“No, he’s not playing,” said the other boy. “He’s here for some learnin'.”

They laughed at their own joke.

“What do you want, Devin?” asked Toby.

“Why, we don’t want anything. Do we, Rich?”

“No, Devin. We’re just making conversation.” The two of them were smiling but there was no humor in their eyes.

“What’s that?” asked the girl. She pointed toward the tablet. Toby had only managed to half cover with his leg.

“I don’t know, Angie,” said Devin. “But it can’t be one of those pre-Crash handheld machines. There’s no way Toby could afford one of those. My dad says even he can’t afford to get one.”

Toby laughed, but to Tar it sounded forced.

“It’s just a brick,” he said. “We’re going to play a trick on Mrs. Isaacs later.”

Devin and Rich looked at each other and smiled again.

“We like tricks,” said Rich. “Maybe we can help. Let me see it.”

Toby’s smile faltered but he never had a chance to answer.

“No.”

Everyone turned to look at Shovel.

“A look won’t hurt anyone.” Devin took a step forward. “Just a peek.”

“I said no.” Shovel stood up and the other boy stopped moving. His voice never rose above its normal tone but the words were cold and hard. It reminded Tar of the gang leader’s voice the day before when he had grabbed the backpack from his shoulder. The banger’s voice had been quiet, too, but also promised more than was said.

“Okay, okay.” Devin held his hands up before putting Angie’s hand back on his arm. “No need to go all aggro on anybody.” They started to turn away, then Devin stopped and looked at Tar.

“It’s funny how things like that machine turn up whenever you’re around. Always something. And they always seem to work.”

They walked away and, after a few strides, the boys were laughing while the girl hid her giggles behind her hand.

“Those guys are such trolls,” said Toby. “They just came over here to flame on you, Tar.”

A bell rang. Tar noticed Toby take his hand from his pocket and let it trail over the back edge of the wall, then he tucked the machine under his arm.

“We better get back inside, Shovel. Thanks, Tar. Be careful getting home.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you guys.”

Shovel nodded as he turned and followed Toby into the building.

Tar stayed on the low concrete wall, kicking his feet and waiting until most of the students were headed back to class before he leaned back and glanced over the ledge. He could see the little metal tube that Toby had dropped on the sidewalk on the other side. He was paying so much attention to it, he jumped when he heard the voice so close to him.

“Hey! Catch!”

Tar turned just in time to see something flying at his face. He reacted without thinking, grabbing the little object out of the air.

His palm tingled and a light blinked on the front of the little machine. A tiny screen flickered to life and a few notes of music blared out into the school yard. Just as fast Tar stopped the light in his thoughts and the machine went quiet again.

“I’ve never heard that play any music before, have you, Rich?” Devin stared straight at Tar. He was not smiling anymore. He stepped up and yanked the small device from Tar’s hand.

“No, never,” Rich said. “It was brick.”

“Hmm, like I said, things just turn up around you and suddenly work again.” Devin snorted, a smug smile turning up one side of his mouth. “Come on, Rich.”

They turned and walked toward the school. Tar watched them until he was sure they were gone, then he leaned over the wall, picked up Toby’s money, and took off sprinting down the street.

Chapter 4

“Uncle Jahn, what was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“You know, before The Crash.” Tar lay his spoon down and leaned on his elbows. “Tell me a blog about it.”

The old man looked up from his bowl and glanced around. They were both waiting to eat, letting hard, crusty rolls soak in their soup. Sometimes it was the only way to bite through the bread. Thanks to Tar’s work on Mrs. Gillis’ stove, however, they had meat mixed in the broth with the vegetables.

“You haven’t asked about that for a long time,” Jahn answered once he saw they were alone in their corner of the common area. “Why do you want to know now?”

Tar shrugged his shoulders and took a bite of the still-tough roll.

“I don’t know,” he said around the bread. “I’ve just been thinking about what it was like to live back then, when the air was alive.” He lowered his voice. “When Mom and Dad were alive.”

The boy looked up and saw Jahn staring at him. After a few seconds his uncle nodded and looked down at his soup.

“You’re fifteen. I suppose if I was your age I’d want to know, too.” He slurped up a spoonful of broth and chewed on a piece of meat. “The air was never really alive no matter what you kids think today. Although it would be hard to tell because it was everywhere, and it was smart. When I was a kid and still trying figure out how to skip out of school people could go onto computers and look up stuff and talk to each other.”

“The Internet,” said Tar. “I read about it in one of Mr. Keisler’s history books.”

Jahn nodded.

“Yeah. It started out that the machines had to be plugged in to use it. Wires runnin’ everywhere. Slow as molasses. Then they started to be able to pull it all in straight from the air. Everything was still okay, though. But more and more stuff was put out there. They called it the Sky or Cloud, something like that.”

“Is that when The Crash came?”

Jahn gulped at another spoonful.

“Nah, not yet. See, more and more of the machines were talking in the air and finally some people decided they wanted to talk to the air, too. And not through any machines. So they hooked themselves straight into it.
Jacked
is what they called it.”

Tar let out a breath.

“So that’s when it all happened in their heads, automagically.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, they started calling it the Mind. At first they had to wear these funny hats that covered their heads. Their ears would stick out through holes so they could hear. Damnedest thing you ever saw. They looked like fools.” Jahn laughed at the memory.

“But think what they could do,” said Tar. “Think about something and you would know all about it.”

Jahn snorted and shook his head.

“It made for some pretty lazy people, let me tell you. Why bother to learn anything when somebody else had already done all the learnin’ for you? Bah!”

Tar chewed slowly on the last of his roll while he stared at the far wall. Neither talked for a few minutes, only the far off conversations of others in the room and the clinking of Jahn’s spoon against his bowl breaking the quiet.

“Is that when The Crash came?” Tar’s voice was soft. “Those hats made it so the people went hard boot?”

“Nope, that’s not when everybody died. People kept making machines smarter and smarter and the hats that talked to the air became smaller and smaller. Finally, it was just a little box, right behind an ear.” Jahn pushed away the bowl and leaned back in his chair. “By then it seemed like everyone was jacked in all the time. Scientists, teachers, business people, the government, guys who wanted the newest thing—you had to be in the Mind if you wanted to be somebody.”

“But not everybody wanted to be somebody.”

Jahn stared at Tar for a minute before shaking his head.

“No, not everybody wanted to be somebody. There were different groups that started up. Some said that all the machines were bad. But those were the kooks who wanted us to go back to the long ago days in caves. Not a lot of people joined up with them. But there were others who said machines were okay as long as they weren’t hooked up to people. They said that God had made mankind and that man had made the machines. By trying to tie the two together they thought that men were daring to make themselves gods.”

“So that’s how the Black Shirts started?”

“Yeah. But more particularly, Father Eli. He was not only the leader of the Black Shirts, back then he was the one who got them together. He was the one preachin’ and goin’ on TV shows and bein’ in stories in the newspapers and magazines. He was the one who came up with the whole story of how the machines were wrong. He was the one…”