Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2) (15 page)

I’ve tuned out James’s long monologue, which no doubt is praising the many capabilities of the device. He’s been at the front of the room squeaking for over ten minutes about the modifier like it’s a god. I can’t take this nonsense any longer. “What’s the point? Why are we expected to use this demonic device?” I say, not camouflaging the resentment with a more proper emotion.

He stops, straightens, looking put off. “Because it’s the most critical part of our plan to rescue Dr. Livingston.”

Of course it is.

“The plan is that you’ll travel to the Grotte, then generate your body. This part is easy. After that point you’ll be a target for the Voyageurs. If they see you then you’ll be dead and it will all be over. The modifier is your only chance at surviving long enough to find Dr. Livingston.”

“You expect us to use
this
device? To change the thoughts of the Voyageurs?” I ask in utter disbelief.

“Specifically, as the team captain, I expect
you
to use it,” he says like he’s talking to a stubborn child.

Me? Of course me.
If there’s a God, then he’s laughing at me right now.
Good one. You got me.

“And yes,” James continues. “You’ll use it to program the Voyageurs to believe you belong there. This won’t last long against their mental guards,” James warns, looking sullen for the first time. “But it will buy you time. The key is to not do anything to draw too much attention. You see,” he says, striding around the table looking excited, “the modifier will tell them that you all belong there, but not why. This will cause them to invent their own reasons for why you’re there. If you do or say something that contradicts the reality they’ve told themselves then your cover will be blown.”

“If”—Joseph says the word like it contains multiple syllables—“we can use this device on the Voyageurs, because they don’t wear protective charms, then why can’t we tell ’em to give Aiden back and be done with this whole thing?”

James shakes his head, a look of disappointed remorse on his face. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t work. That’s too big of a message. Their guards are strong and so any message that raises attention will be flagged, examined, and determined to be implanted. It would be easier to recede their minds about them ever abducting Dr. Livingston, but then you’d still have to get in there and rescue him. Our best bet is to use the modifier once for a broad message, one that will protect you all while you’re there and allow you to find Dr. Livingston.”

“If the modifier could draw attention to us, then maybe we’re better off not using it at all,” I argue, more out of desperation than logic.

“And what happens when a Voyageur stops you, asks you a question, and wonders why you don’t speak French?” James responds like he’s debating a philosophical point, rather than the greatest moral dilemma I’ve faced thus far.

“Any of you know French?” I ask, lacing my voice with hope.

No one nods.

James tilts his head, shrugs. “And this is just one of the main reasons to use the modifier. Others are that it will allow you to coast through the Grotte without having to invent a reason for your presence. Heck, I’m guessing that the Voyageurs might even go out of their way to help you, opening doors and such.” He pauses, scrunching up his bushy eyebrows. “Actually, I’m not certain they have doors, but you get the point.”

Unfortunately I do.

James continues explaining how to use the modifier and telling us different things to be observant of. I retreat into my mind, wondering how I’ve gotten into this hypocritical position. Wasn’t I the person who just exploded on Aiden over this stupid device? It’s what we always fought about. Well, and also Amber. A guilty shiver runs down my back.

Still, this device was the last thing I’d fought with Aiden about. And it had been the subject we’d steered away from, knowing we couldn’t agree. Now they expect me to use it. If I don’t then what would happen? Would I show up in the Grotte and be struck dead before I even had a chance? As I scroll down these questions I realize where the disconnect happens for me. It’s in my judgment. I’d previously judged George and Aiden for their involvement with the device. If I hadn’t judged them so harshly then I’d have no trouble using this device right now. In this circumstance, based on James’s reasons, it makes sense. And these people have stolen what belongs to us. This logic brings with it a companion question: Was it wrong for the Institute to program my fake family to accept me if it kept me safe from Zhuang for all those years? The answer doesn’t come. And still there are so many other things the modifier has been used for which I don’t have time or energy to analyze.

The logical part of me accepts using the modifier under the current circumstances. But my heart cannot reconcile the past. It’s the part of me having trouble coming to terms with this whole plan. I wish my heart would go back into hibernation. I had valid reasons for opposing the device’s use in the past. But in this circumstance, it does seem logical to employ it, if it can guarantee our survival and help us rescue Aiden.

Is this what Aiden meant when he said the modifier was only employed to protect the greater good? I always thought qualifying that was arbitrary. Everyone always thinks their side is the one that represents good. Where does the greater good lie in this scenario? Putting a small message into the Voyageurs’ heads so we can rescue Aiden before he’s killed does seem like the right thing to do. It makes logical sense. Something about my new robotic nature is making me view the disagreement with Aiden from a black and white perspective, which unfortunately doesn’t favor me in this situation. If this is the criteria for using the modifier, then it’s a no-brainer.

My deliberation brings only one question to the forefront of my brain that I can’t reason away. Arriving at this question leaves my ego battered. And the question assaults me with one more emotional injury as it runs through my mind: Can I overcome my pride if it means completing the mission, something I
must
do?

Bitterness coats my tongue. I dismiss myself to get a drink of water.

Chapter Twenty

T
he knock on my door startles me. It isn’t Patrick’s familiar rap. With an exaggerated sigh I flip over on my bed and continue leafing through my book. The knock comes again. This time it’s longer, more insistent. I toss
The Golden Compass
off my bed and bury my head under a pillow. I’m not in the mood for another apology attempt from George. The cocoon of pillow around my head is surprisingly comforting. If George doesn’t keep me up knocking, then I can probably fall asleep in this cozy darkness.

“What’s that, Stark?” Joseph says too loudly. His voice rings through the solid door and my pillow-insulated head. “One of the last things Aiden said to you was ‘when I kiss you it sends—’”

I rip the pillow off my head and bolt upright in one swift movement. My feet race to the door faster than should be humanly possible. The palm of my hand slams against the button, sending the door back into the recess. Joseph stands looking satisfied.

“Why?” I say through clenched teeth.

Joseph strolls around me into my room. “Because, sis, I wanted to see you. Plain and simple.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “My God, Joseph, you’re cruel.”

Hitting the button, I charge up behind him and when he turns around I say, “Where did you come up with that ploy to get me to open the door?”

He picks up one of my locks of hair and tosses it over my shoulder. “Oh, all my material is based on true life experiences. Works better that way. I might have exaggerated a bit though. I was antsy to see you,” he says, looking mischievous.

“That’s low, Joseph. Really low.”

He nods. “That’s what you’ve come to expect from me. I’m just trying to meet your expectations. So you and the scientist, eh? Yeah, I saw that coming a million miles away.”

“There’s nothing going on with Aiden and me.”

“Oh, I’m sure y’all will work out your disagreements once he’s back.”

“How do you know what’s in my head? Why don’t I know what’s in yours?”

He smiles and sinks down onto my bed. “Let’s call it luck.”

“Damn it, Joseph!” I roar and stomp around my room. “Don’t I have enough going on right now!? Do I really need you tormenting me!?”

Right there he returns. Suddenly from across the room I’m looking at him, the twin brother I love. It’s brief, then I’m too acutely aware of the dark circles under his eyes, sunken face, and pale complexion. And yet, for a brief second I saw the guy I trusted—he’s still there somewhere.

“I’m sorry,” he says, lying on my bed. “I wish I could be good enough for you. I’ve lost it.” I don’t believe much of what he says anymore, but I believe this.

“What do you want?” I say, taking a seat on the floor.

“Don’t criticize me for it, but I missed you,” he finally says, staring at the ceiling blankly.

Criticize him? For missing me?
I’ve missed him so much. How can he be so stupid?

“I won’t and I’m glad,” I say, devoid of real emotion.

A small smile surfaces on the corner of his mouth. “Been dreaming much, Stark?” he asks.

“Yeah, when Ms. Chatterson shuts her trap.”

“Who?”

“Never mind,” I say.

“You want my input on your dreams?”

“Nope. How about you?” I ask.

“No real dreams,” he says, seemingly on another planet. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

“Mmm,” I say, wondering if it’s possible he’s become a hallucinator.

Just like that he cuts off my thoughts and says, “Don’t worry, I’m not hallucinating.”

“Damn it, Joseph! Stop it!”

He laughs and turns over on his stomach. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” I say.

We’re quiet for a few minutes. He doesn’t say anything, but for some reason I get this impression that he feels sorry. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but it’s like he’s quietly apologizing to me for everything he’s done and not done over the last two weeks. After a while I sit up and say, “So what about Samara?”

“What about her?” Joseph says, staring at the floor.

“When were you going to tell me that you two are seeing each other?”

“About the time that I told you I was seeing anyone else,” he says with a rude laugh.

“What?” I jerk up, eyes wide with repulsion. “Are you playing her?”

“Look, Stark, she knows what’s in my head if she wants to. I don’t feel like I’m playing any games on her.”

“You know she isn’t invading your thoughts. She wouldn’t do that and expect things to work out between you two.”

“Who says things are supposed to work out between us?” Joseph says, sitting up.

“Have you always been such a dog?”

He stares off as though seriously considering the question. “As far back as I can remember,” he says coolly.

“What if she finds out? And who else are you messing with?”

Joseph’s eyes retreat. “Look, this is none of your business.”

“Really?” I growl softly. “Why don’t you remember that before you broadcast my private life to the entire Institute?”

His eyes turn distant. “I’m sorry. I know this is harder on you than anyone else. But to be fair, you’re stronger than the rest of us.”

“That’s not fair,” I say bitterly.

“Well, it’s true,” Joseph says.

“That’s your opinion.”

“Look, you think I abandoned you. And you distrust me for not telling you why. But you gotta believe me when I say I’m tryin’, tryin’ to make our life better.”

I eye him suspiciously. “That’s ironic, because you’ve made my life worse.”

“Oh, stop playin’ the victim. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I don’t see myself as a victim,” I say in a mechanical voice.

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” he says, like it’s a canned answer and his thoughts are preoccupied on something else.

“Are you coming around to meals and by my room because you can’t dream travel?” I ask, almost accuse.

“What I’m working on was quite consuming and took me away a lot.”

“Are you working on it now?”

“In a way, but this mission needs my attention. And since you’re leading it I know you need my attention too.”

“Oh, is that why you came by?” I scold.

“Why you always got to think people’s motives are dark?”

I give him a defiant look. “I just don’t have much faith in people.”

“Well, I got all my faith in you,” he says in a sing-song voice.

“Stop it,” I say, feeling extra irritable. I need to turn back into the robot before I do or say something emotional.

Joseph gives me an apologetic look. “I mean it, but I know why you don’t believe me. I’ll try and be a better brother.”

“Fine,” I say, indifferently. Why get my hopes up just to have Joseph disappoint me again?

“And why don’t you work on lightening up a bit,” he says.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The space between us falls quiet again. Joseph taps his foot. I pace back and forth between my thoughts deciding what I want to say to him now that I have his sincere attention.

“Joseph.” My voice is on the verge of sounding desperate. I steady it with a breath. “Do you see a vision where we get through this?”

He straightens and turns in my direction. A playful expression dances across his face. With his fist he gives me a pretend jab on the jaw. “Oh, come on, kid, you know as well as I do that knowing the future doesn’t fix anything.”

“Come on, Joseph, if you know something then tell me, prepare me.”

With an embellished sigh he stands and yawns. “Gotta thank you for something, Stark. You made me tired. I haven’t been tired in days.”

“I tend to wear people out.” I rise, folding my arms across my chest.

“That you do,” he sings, striding for the door. He presses the button and turns and faces me. “Oh, okay, maybe you’ll stop being so hostile at me if I tell you this much…”

I drop my arms, tilt forward, awaiting his words.

“I see a future where you’re happy. Not just read-a-cute-little-story
happy
, or come-off-a-runner’s-high
happy
, but one where you’ve made a claim to the emotion. It’s a beautiful thing, one that actually makes
me
truly happy.”