Mind Games (5 page)

9

Next morning I empty my suitcase out on the bed. At least I can wear whatever the hell I want to now. It becomes apparent that the black trouser/white shirt thing was beyond just our school. The other three in my silent room are putting on exactly the same outfit, fake round glasses and all, keeping their eyes carefully averted from me the whole time. Fine. I pick the brightest thing I can find out of my randomly packed case: a neon-green top with a pale pink seven I painted on the front, and cut-off jeans. Try to ignore me now.

I head across the quad. I should fail this stupid IQ test and get the hell out of here. Then my life will be the way I always thought it’d be: a few more months dodging Goodwin at boring school. A brain-dead work assignment. A dead-end life.

But I only have
one
chance. Could these two tests really change my life?

Nanna’s numbers say yes.
One is a new beginning. Two is a choice that must be made.

The taunts are still ringing in my ears. Adrenaline rushing through my veins. Somewhere inside are the voices of caution:
Don’t let them notice you. Fail. Take care, Luna
. Even Goodwin’s bitter diatribe on the fate of the clever-stupid.

But I don’t care.

I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.

The only one who has opted for a pen and paper test, I’m on my own in a small exam hall. Everyone else is in the PIP centre, getting plugged in, waiting for the Test to download at the precise strike of 9 a.m. Here I’ve got one haughty invigilator with a stopwatch, a paper turned upside down on a desk. The clock outside starts striking nine, but she waits until the last chime before saying, ‘You may begin.’

And it’s like I’ve been set on fast-forward, or am in some illegal Implant programme. I race through the IQ questions: sequences; spatial tests; logic problems; pattern recognition. It’s almost like there is a part of my brain I don’t usually use that has been let out, and it is calmly chewing through the questions while the rest of me is watching, cheering, from the sidelines.

It is only when I hand it in and the invigilator hits the stopwatch, notes the time with a look of surprise on her face, that that part retreats. The rest of me is back in charge, and full of an overwhelming realisation: I’m in serious, serious trouble.

That night I wait until even breathing says the others in my room are asleep. I slip out of my bed, and creep down the hall to the front door.

I’m getting out of here.

I switch off the motion detector light before I step out of our building. There are no other visible detectors, cameras or security devices to avoid, and I’m surprised. Even our school has more security than this.

The buildings of this test centre form a quad, but there are arches between some of the buildings that lead out. Instinct says avoid the main entrance; head for a side exit, away from the halls of residence. There’s one by the cafeteria where, apart from that first formal dinner, we have our meals. I head there, keeping away from entrances to other buildings that may have their own motion detector lights. There are some dim energy saver lights on in the quad, but few and far between enough to avoid their thin pools of light.

I think I hear a noise, and huddle along the side of a building, but can see nothing in the darkness. My heart is thudding fast but my skin is cold, clammy. It is colder than I thought it’d be, but there’s no way I’m going back for a jacket.

Where am I going? I brush the thought aside. Every instinct says
run
, get away. Don’t let them make me do the RQ test. Don’t let them label me irrational, and make Goodwin’s predictions come true.

I continue on to the exit, and slip into the darkness under the arch between two buildings. Pause, wait for eyes to adjust, step forward, and then—

A hand clamps over my mouth. A scream rises up inside, but I quash it, twist round and ram an elbow into whoever is behind me. The hands let go; there is a muffled cry of pain.

‘What’d you do that for?’ He straightens up, and I can just make out his face in the dim light.

‘Gecko? What are you doing here?’

‘Me? What are
you
doing here? Apart from causing grievous bodily harm.’

‘I didn’t know it was you. You scared me!’

‘Sorry, I didn’t want you to call out.’

I glare at him. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ I say, and continue walking the way I was heading. Out and away from this place.

‘You won’t get far,’ he says, and I falter, but keep going. At the end of the passageway, a strange light shimmers in the night air. Weird. I hesitate, then reach a hand out to it, and push against the shimmering. It’s vaguely warm, and feels like thick treacle. I can almost push into it, then my hands come out again as if something is pushing back.

Gecko is standing next to me, lit up strangely by the pulsing light. ‘How’d you do that?’ he asks, curiosity in his dark eyes.

‘Do what?’

‘Push your hands into the wall.’

I frown. ‘There isn’t a wall. There’s like a funny light, that shifts around when I move my eyes.’

‘You can’t see a wall?’

‘No.’

‘Weird. I wonder if…’ He pauses, closes his eyes, then pushes at the light like I did, but can’t get his fingers into it at all.

He opens his eyes again. Whistles low. ‘That’s worrying. Clever bastards.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What you’ve described seeing is a force field. So why do I see it as a wall and you don’t? I hear you haven’t got an Implant. Which means it must be a sensory suggestion placed by my Implant. They’re supposed to be blocked here, but it turns out they’re only blocked one way. As this wall proves. But I can’t overcome it by just knowing there isn’t a wall. To me, it is still a wall.’

‘That doesn’t make sense. I thought Implant images were always obviously not real? Just guides, things like maps and stuff.’

‘They are supposed to be. And they always have been to me, before.’ He shudders. ‘Maybe not, and I just couldn’t tell the difference.’ He looks about at the buildings as if wondering if they are really there.

I shake my head. ‘Either way, so what? I can’t get through it, no matter what it is; I can barely push into it at all.’

‘The wall goes all the way around. I’ve tried every possible exit; this was the last one.’

‘Why would they put up a force field disguised as a wall? I don’t get it.’

‘Obvious, I should think. We’re prisoners.’

His words sink in. There’s no way out? We’re trapped? No wonder there is no internal security; they don’t need it. No one can get in; no one can get out.

I sigh, deflated. ‘Why are you trying to leave?’ I ask.

‘That is just the question I was going to ask you.’ He stares back at me, but I stay silent. He smiles. ‘Fair enough: how about we agree to swap stories? But there is a better place we can chat.’

He starts walking out of the passageway, back to the quad. Looks back when I don’t follow. ‘Well, come on. Unless you want to stay there to be first in the breakfast queue.’

Fine. I follow. Out of curiosity, I tell myself. Nothing more.

He skirts round to the next building: there’s another passageway, between it and the grand hall, but this one is open above to the night air.

‘There’s a balcony above, where we can talk out of sight,’ he says. ‘I’ll give you a leg up. There’s a ledge you can use.’ He points out the way.

‘I don’t need help,’ I say, and check out the climb. It’s easy, really, but it is so dark tonight: no moon, no stars. I climb up, afraid but determined not to let it show. Once up I can see why he’s picked this place. The balcony is wide. There are benches against the building, not visible from below. The sliding doors lead into the upper level of the dark hall, empty this time of night. He follows behind and drops easily onto the balcony.

‘One thing first,’ he says. ‘Follow me around.’ We walk along the balcony, down the side of the building. At the end of the balcony there is a shimmer in the night air.

‘Can you see a top to the wall?’ he says. ‘I mean, to the force field. What can you see?’

I look up, then shake my head. ‘There is a shimmer of light in the air. It goes up forever. What does it look like as a wall?’

‘It stops at the top of the building. Shame; I was hoping we could climb over it.’

He takes my hand, pulls me towards a bench. ‘Come on. Let’s talk.’ He takes his jacket off, then pulls his dark hoodie off over his head and tosses it to me. ‘Put that on first. If your hand is any indication, you’re freezing.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

I want to argue but I’m so cold I put it on, still warm from his body, and pull the hood up over my head as well. It’s so big it flops over my eyes. I sit down, and he slips close next to me, pulls his jacket over both of us. I try to stop shivering and he pulls my cold hands between his. Part of me is
aware
of his closeness; part of me is scared of what he might ask. What I might say.

‘First rule of escaping in the dead of night: dress warm,’ he says. ‘So, do you want to go first, or shall I?’

‘OK, fine. I will,’ I say. ‘I’m trying to get out of here because I don’t want to take the RQ test.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘Are we all done with sharing now?’

He laughs low, and it is a good laugh. ‘But
why
don’t you want to take the test? I know some idiots gave you a hard time about your family the other night. But so what? If you got a Test appointment, you must be able to do the tests. Get a placement, get away from them, go to uni or whatever. Start over again where people don’t know who you are.’

‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. I don’t think I can even go to university without an Implant.’

He shrugs. ‘Get one, then. See the walls they want you to see. It’s not so bad.’

‘I can’t. And
don’t
ask me why. Now it’s your turn. Why were you trying to leave, really?’

He sighs. ‘I didn’t think it would be as easy as just slipping out in the night, but I had to try.’

‘But why? You’re a Hacker, aren’t you? You’ll be in demand. You’ll get an awesome computer job, and live happily ever after.’

He laughs again, but this time it isn’t a happy sound. ‘That’d be great if you don’t mind imaginary walls.’ He turns to face me and even in the darkness his eyes glitter. ‘Is there one thing you want, one thing that is more important to you than anything else?’ His voice is intense, insistent, and demands an answer.

My mother back
. The thought is unbidden, and silent, and I push it away. Out loud all I say is, ‘I don’t know. How about you?’

‘Freedom.’

‘Freedom? It’s a free country,’ I say, repeating what he said at dinner last night.

‘Is it? How free are we, right now? Why is there a force field stopping us from leaving, in a free country?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s to stop people from cheating on the tests. Or to keep us safe, to keep others out.’

‘We’re not babies; we don’t need a playpen with no sharp corners.’

I shake my head. ‘Why would the government lock us in?’

‘Ah, now that is kind of the important part of this: it’s not our government. It’s not NUN, either.’

‘Who else could do something like this?’

‘PareCo, of course.’

I stare back at him, uneasy. They’re just a corporation, no matter how huge – global, yes, but they design computer systems and games, they don’t run the world. OK, they design tests like the ones we’re taking this week, but NUN pays them to make programmes. They’re not in charge; NUN is. They can’t detain people. But then Melrose’s dad’s words whisper inside:
general weirdness
. What would he make of this?

I shake my head. Gecko must be wrong: this is crazy. ‘Why’d you even come if you don’t want to be here?’ I ask.

‘I didn’t. They brought me.’

‘
What?
’

He swears under his breath. ‘My own stupid fault. I should have gone into hiding. I should have realised they wouldn’t accept a
no, thanks
. Not in my case.’

‘What’s so special about you, then?’

‘How many Hackers do you know over the age of eighteen?’

I stop to think. ‘I can’t think of any,’ I admit. Was that part of what was so weird about that Implant Addict Jason and I saw in the park – he was a Hacker, and he wasn’t young?

‘Hackers think they’re the ultimate rebels, playing the system, manipulating it as they want. PareCo
lets them
. They’re identifying possible future risks, and taking them in: testing them, appealing to the extreme competitive streak they all have to make them go for it, then praising the winners and offering them dream game jobs where they can be master of their own virtual universe. Safely contained away from the rest of us. And then what happens to them?’

‘I don’t know: what?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t, either. But I’m afraid I’m going to find out.’ He’s silent a moment, then slips an arm around my shoulders. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What for?’

‘I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you. Forget I said it. Let’s go back to
you
: tell me why are you are
really
trying to leave.’

I sigh. ‘I don’t need to wait for the results of the IQ test – I know I did rather well. But I won’t do so well on the RQ. I’ll be considered dangerous: smart but stupid. God knows where they’ll put me, but nowhere nice, I’m guessing.’

‘What makes you think you’ll fail the RQ?’

‘Did you listen to all that stuff yesterday? My genes say so, for a start.’

‘That’s not it, is it? There’s something else you’re not saying.’

I don’t know what it is. Something about talking in the night, in darkness so complete his questions are almost like a disembodied voice despite the warmth of his body next to mine. Something makes me want to tell, to say words I’ve kept hidden inside for so long.

‘It’s like this. When I plug in, I get really dizzy and weirded out. Always. Five or ten minutes, tops, and I’m vomiting all over the place.’

‘Nice. Is that why you Refuse?’

It’s not the whole answer, but I nod.