The Rift Uprising (18 page)

I turn around. I wrap my legs around the front of the chair and put my arm on the back of it so that I can rest my chin there.

“What is it?” I stare at the monitors. They are blank.

“Pick up your foot,” he commands.

I do so and we look at the screen. Nothing.

“Punch something in the air.”

An odd request, but I do it, and still the screen remains blank.

“Okay, I'm going to try to get you to do something Citadelish. Can you do, like, a handstand on that chair?”

I don't say anything. Instead I move the chair away slightly and I grip the sides of it with both hands. I carefully lift myself off the floor, raising my legs as slowly as possible so that I don't knock anything over.

“Balance the other side, will you? With your arm or foot,” I ask. I begin to slowly lift up a hand and quickly Ezra grabs the chair so that it doesn't tip over. I figure anyone, really, could do a handstand on a chair, but a handstand with only one hand—not so easy.

“You can come down now,” Ezra says quietly.

I gently lower my hand and feet and then stand up. I push
the chair back to Ezra and he sits down on it. I sit on his bed and look at the toast. I am not hungry anymore. I know that something is wrong.

“It's not working, is it?” I manage to say softly.

“Ryn, the program works. The code is solid. I'm going to say something to you, and I'm going to need you to stay calm.”

I narrow my eyes. I thought we had this discussion before. The worst thing you can say to someone is “stay calm.” It never works. It just adds unnecessary drama.

“Fine.”

“There is no signal emanating from the implant in your head. Well, there is, but it's not linked to your brain.”

I lean forward in frustration. “I don't understand. There has to be a signal. You've seen what I can do. So, obviously, the Roone technology stumped you. It's no biggie. You need more time with it. Maybe I can even swipe something else from medical that will help,” I offer. He's tired. After he gets some rest, he'll figure something else out.

“I am not
wrong
. I am telling you—I am linked to your implant. It is sending out a signal, but that signal is registering in a way that is not consistent with brain activity. There is nothing in your implant that is controlling a single one of your impulses.”

“That can't be right.”

“That's what I'm saying. But I started with basics. I should have been able to track your blood pressure or heart rate. Not in actual vitals, but in a binary that should have come up immediately. When you move, when you did that awesome thing with the chair—nothing. There is definitely a piece of hardware in your skull, but whatever it is, it's not giving you superpowers. It's not giving you anything.”

I jump up off the bed, take off the disk, and put it back on the desk. “I don't get it,” I say. “I think I would have remembered
being bitten by a radioactive spider. Or how awesome it was being raised on Paradise Island with my Amazon sister Wonder Woman.”

“This isn't funny,” Ezra says with a groan.

“No,” I say, all flippancy out of my voice, “it really isn't, Mr. MIT, Mr. I Can Fix You.
You
messed up somewhere. Obviously. I'm a cyborg, not a superhero.” I fold my arms. He's wrong. He has to be. “Okay, then. Let's just, for arguments' sake, say that you're right. Explain how on Earth—and I mean literally, on this particular Earth—I could possibly do the things I do.”

Ezra paces for a few seconds, then sits on the bed. He runs his hands through his hair and looks up at me. “Here's what's interesting to me about this. Your whole life is one giant lie. It's not just that no one in your family or your other friends know what you are, but they don't even know about the most significant scientific phenomenon in history that is just miles away from their own home.” Ezra drums a single finger on his thigh. He's agitated, but he's playing it as cool as he can. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to piss someone like me off, either. And he's certainly doing a better job at it than I am. “And then you have ARC,” he continues, “your bosses, whose acronym alone sounds like a super-evil society. They put people in internment camps. They modify the prisoners' behaviors in an attempt to make every species they encounter human. They create teenage super soldiers who guard a portal to the Multiverse on the sly, but your first instinct is that
I'm
wrong.”

I look down. I process what Ezra is saying. He is totally right. I've been sold on the whole idea of the implant for so long, I take it as a given. The most logical explanation is that it is, in fact—in the face of the evidence before us—a lie.

“So what did they do?” I ask, knowing that my voice sounds desperate and small.

“I don't know. Drugs? Gene therapy? Demonic possession? I have no idea. I don't even have the equipment to try to figure it out. I'm sorry, Ryn.” He
looks
sorry. He looks devastated. All he wants to do is help me. He's told me this incredible news and he can't even hug me, which right away makes me think harder.

I start to pace now: three steps forward, three steps back. “Wait—wait a minute. If there isn't a chip that's controlling my body, then why can't I, or we . . . How is it possible that we can't touch?”

“Again. I don't have the answer. But if it's not technological, then it's psychological. If it's psychological, then ARC did something . . . they—”

“Don't finish that sentence,” I say quickly. I can't bear the thought of him saying what we both suspect. “Oh my God,” I whisper. It's too terrible a thought. It's so ugly I almost want to faint.

“I am so sorry, Ryn.” Ezra gets up off the bed. He reaches out to me. “Just. Let me . . .”

I jump back from him, my arms out, ready to push. “Don't,” I say softly. “Don't even think about coming near me right now. If anything happened to you—now that I know it's not some evil thing in my head, but it's actually me, I couldn't live with myself. Not that I'm doing such a stellar job living with myself right now.” I put my hand on the bookshelf. “I have to go.” There is an ominous tone in my voice. I don't care.

“Where? I hope you're going to say ‘Downstairs to my room,' because you need some space. That's what you're going to say, right?”

I turn to face him. I swore I would never lie to him. I am not about to start now. “For now, until it gets a little later. Then I'm going to the base. I'm going to find out the truth. For once.”

“Hey,” Ezra says worriedly. I turn and see that he is obviously afraid. “They'll know soon, that I'm gone. And that signal your implant is sending out? I'm almost positive it's a tracking signal.”

“So what? I'm going into work. I know I got the day off, but I can say I don't feel well and want to get checked out.” I'm clenching my fists. Why does he keep questioning everything I want to do? Does he not understand that I'm a soldier? My entire life revolves around strategic decisions, and quick ones at that. I know what I'm doing. I weighed the risks the moment I realized that Ezra was right about the implant.

“It means they know where you've
been
. It means they know you've been to the Village, to
my
house. Besides, what are you going to do there? Who is going to tell you the truth? We need to think of another plan. You need to steal files or I need to find a way in to their mainframe.” His voice is calm, but his body language is rigid and tight.

“Ezra, it doesn't matter if they know I've been to the Village. If they can track me, they'll figure out that I wasn't anywhere near there when you left. I just don't have it in me to sit on my fucking hands and find out what I am from some damn file. I'm going back to the base because I want to confront the person,
the thing
, that did this to me. I want her to have to look me in the eye and explain. Try to get some rest. I'm serious, you need to sleep.” I push the bookshelf open and make my way down to my bedroom.

It takes all my will to not look back.

I COLLAPSE ON THE BED
and stare at the ceiling. What am I? A monster? A hero? A mutant? When I first saw the images from The Rift at basic training when I was fourteen, when I saw the Karekins literally tear apart soldiers, rip their limbs away as if
it was nothing, I was frightened. But I was also angry. I could feel the power building inside of me. I knew I could do something. I knew I could save peoples' lives. I wasn't born special. I wasn't chic and mysterious like my mother. I wasn't cool and artistic like my dad. Abel, well, he was always good at everything. Me? I wasn't particularly pretty. I wasn't really good at anything except for reading. I sucked at math and sports. I couldn't sing or dance. I played the cello, badly. I didn't have a single thing that set me apart from anyone. I would mentally line up the lame-ass jobs I could have had as an adult. Desk clerk. HR middle management. Executive assistant. Although they wouldn't have been lame to me. They would have just been normal, because
I
would have been normal.

Maybe I've been blindsided by the power. I am a badass
and I enjoy it
. I do hate the lies. I hate seeing the fear on people's faces when they get dumped out of The Rift, but I really loved knowing that I was helping them. Little did I know I was packing them off to Martha Stewart World (with all the throw pillows and jail time that implies). I couldn't have known when I gently escorted them away from what I thought was the biggest danger, that I was actually sending them to be stripped of their lives, their identity, and of everything else that made them who they were, so that they could become more like me. Except that was a lie, too—they could never be like me. No one is like me, except the other Citadels, but even there, I am a team leader. I am one of the stars at ARC.

Everyone wants to be special. I want to be special. Maybe that's why it's taken me all these years to ask the questions I should have asked that very first day I found out what I was. I bitch and moan and complain about what they did to me, but would I really change it? I can't get laid. Big deal. Nuns
don't get laid, you don't hear them whining about it. The truth is now I
have
to walk toward the truth. I
have
to face it. I wouldn't change what I can do for anything. I have to accept it and honor it. What I don't have to do is take a payment of total bullshit in return for the absolute loyalty I've shown ARC. I won't. I'm going to find out how exactly they turned me into what I am.

Even if it kills me.

I tear into the parking lot of Battle Ground High and fly out of my car before the tires can shudder to a complete stop. I whip open the front doors of the school, noticing that the students are milling around. It's just before first bell. As I walk toward a couple of boys, I hear one of them say something about my ass. While I find this flattering, I have to say I don't appreciate the tone. I pick him up by the shirt with one hand until he's a couple inches off the ground.

“Do. Not. Objectify. Me.” I let him go and he staggers but stays on his feet. “It's rude.” I breeze past them. I know I don't need the added attention right now, but teenage boys, Jesus. If you want to talk about my body, at least say something smart. Something sexy. Internet porn has ruined everything.

I walk into the ARC section of the building and I wonder: Can I break in here if I have to? Why would I, though? If I
really needed to get to base and/or The Rift, I could just drive and easily maneuver through the Camp Bonneville defenses, which are much more complicated than they look, but manageable. Yet that's how my mind works: assessing potential threats. And walking through the school, I'm realizing I now think of this place as a potential threat.

I go through the metal detector and then the eye scan. I wait for the train with many other Citadels. A few of them talk to me and I talk back, but I don't really engage. That's the thing about Citadels, though—we are supergood with boundaries, so I am mostly left alone. When the train stops, I follow everyone up the steps and watch them branch off into different directions, most headed for their locker rooms. I wonder if it wouldn't be a good idea for me to put my uniform on, or at least my training one on. Not only would it make me less conspicuous, but if I get into trouble, it could save me. Defiantly, I decide against it. If I'm going to do this,
face this
, then I want to be me—Ryn—and not a Citadel.

In order to get where I'm going, I have to walk past Applebaum's door. We all front and say we aren't intimidated by him, but on some level, we are. He is the patriarch of this place and no one likes disappointing Daddy. At the moment, I despise him, but still, I can't help it that I want to make him proud. It's just another sick thing I hate about this place. I wait for more than one or two troops to walk by. Then I hit the jackpot: four soldiers barreling up the hallway in a straight line. I quickly join their ranks at the far end. I'm so small compared to these guys that even if Applebaum was to look out of his glass office at that moment, he wouldn't see me.

Once I make it past him without discovery, I turn twice. I am now in front of the medical facility. I know there will be doctors and nurses there. Occasionally, there is another
Roone there, named Wyk, but he is more of a surgeon than a general healer like Edo. He rarely makes an appearance unless it's life or death. You'd think that might give him a severe case of the God complex. But Wyk rarely speaks, never smiles, and seems to have no emotions at all, let alone vanity.

I enter the double glass doors of Medical. There is no reception, just several exam rooms and two operating theaters. There are also several offices, none of which I have been in before, but I figure one of them has to be Edo's. I check the exam rooms first, all of which are empty. It's early; The Rift action must have been fairly tame last night and so far this morning it seems to have been the same. I peek my head through the glass windows of the operating rooms, and they are empty, too. I notice a sign that says
EMPLOYEE LOUNGE
over a single door. There's no way Edo will be in there. Roones don't socialize.

I begin to check offices. I walk into each one without knocking. The first two are empty. The second and third have doctors, but I quickly close the door before they can even say anything. In the fifth office sits Edo. She is behind a desk, working on a laptop. When she sees me, she keeps her face passive. Who knows what she could be thinking? That my neck is bothering me? Or maybe I have more questions about where she lives and the treatment of Immigrants. After I'm done with her, I'm sure she's going to wish that either were true.

“Citadel Ryn. Are you feeling all right?”

I like Edo. I really do, but in that moment it is taking everything I have not to pick up the chair closest to me and throw it at her. I must, at all costs, remain calm in order for this to work. In order for me to get the answers I want, each question must be absolutely precise and leave no room for vagaries.

I sit down in the chair across from her. “No,” I answer stonily.

“I am sorry to hear that. Would you like to go to an exam room? I can call and have one prepped.”

Edo picks up the phone, but before she can put in a number, I speak—in a low, threatening tone. “Put down the phone. Now.” She clearly isn't scared. Rather, she seems curious. I don't know if this is a good or bad thing. Regardless, she hangs up. “We are going to have a conversation. In this conversation, you will answer every one of my questions. You will not lie and you will not reveal to anyone in ARC what we discuss.” She gently clasps both hands together on the surface of her desk. “Before we begin, I am going to warn you: If you tell anyone about this, I will hurt you. If you somehow manage to get to me before I can do so, another Citadel will do it for me. You will never be safe around another one of us again. Are we clear?”

Edo blinks once, slowly. It is in this moment that I will see where she stands. I have laid my cards on the table and I have not been subtle. Roones are stronger than they look, but we both know that she wouldn't stand a chance if we fought. I'm not giving her much of a choice; she has to answer me, but that doesn't mean she has to tell the truth. I have to watch every single thing she says and does now, with total scrutiny. I am a master liar, but is she?

“You don't need to threaten me. I will help you.” Edo's voice rolls out in a steady rasp.

I narrow my eyes. She's making it easy. Too easy. Since she isn't afraid, that means she really does want to help, or she's planning to lie. Her flawlessly smooth face remains impassive. I'm going to have to rely on her tone, the way she answers my questions, and on my gut instinct. In theory, I have the upper hand, but it doesn't feel like I do. I need to give her something. I need to let her know that I am in control. “In return for your
cooperation, I will promise you that our deal goes both ways. I will not reveal to the other Citadels what I learn today. But I have made provisions if something happens to me. If I don't check in, then every Citadel will know what I've already figured out, and believe me, you wouldn't want that.” I actually hadn't done this, but given how thorough Ezra is, I know he's likely done something along these lines. He probably rigged some e-mail alert the second I left the house. If I don't return, I know he won't hesitate to send it out.

“I told you that you need not threaten me. I understand your paranoia, but I am willing to answer whatever questions you may have.”

She seems so serene. It's unnerving, which I imagine is her intention. I don't know what her motives are, but I do know one thing for sure: I am not leaving this office without proof—actual, tangible proof.

“The disk you placed inside of my brain. It's useless, isn't it? It was never the source of our abilities.” I am perfectly still now—watching, waiting, listening. How fast will she answer? Will she blink? Will she show remorse? Will she deny it?

“Yes and no.”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“I was going to explain. This will be easier, Citadel, if you don't interrupt me.”

My first instinct is to widen my eyes, but I keep them level and stare her down. “Do
not
give me orders.”

My hearing is so exceptionally good that I can easily hear another person's heartbeat in a quiet room. The Roones, of course, have molten bodies, which means everything about them is thick except their intellect. I wish in this moment they were built differently. I wish I could hear her blood pumping so that I could check its speed. If there was any justice in the
world, her pulse would be racing. Edo would be afraid of me. She
should
be afraid of me—indeed, she
might
be afraid of me, but there is no way to tell.

She nods slightly. I can't tell if this is a gesture of respect or the complete opposite. I am going to have to get better at reading her body language for this to work. Edo clears her throat and continues. “When the chip was first implanted, it housed several thousand nanites. This nanotechnology rewrote specific strains of your DNA. It took several years for the process to be completed, which is why you were only a child when implanted. You have been genetically altered. Your strength, speed, and mental acuity is wholly a function of your own biology.” Edo says this casually, in the same tone a person might use to talk about a movie they watched on TV or the paint color on a wall. I know in this instant she is not lying. This is the truth.

“And the nanites, where are they now?”

“Flushed out of your system long ago.”

Damn. If they were still in my bloodstream, maybe Ezra could isolate one and we could use it as proof.

“The chip still serves a purpose, though, right? It's a location device?”

I see a slight movement in Edo's eye. She takes longer to answer this question, which means that whatever she tells me has been carefully constructed.

“It is, yes.”

Ezra was right and now I know that there is something about the tracking aspect of the chip that Edo is more reluctant to talk about. I file that information away.

“So let's get down to the fun stuff, okay?” I lean forward. Edo doesn't like me being so close to her, I can tell. She is sending me subtle signals. It's in the way she stiffens and looks away for
a brief flicker of a second. Maybe I was hoping to scare her, but it's not fear I'm reading. It's an odd mix of distaste and guilt that would probably be imperceptible to anyone else. These micro-gestures are making my jaw clench. My body seems to know the truth that Edo's cues are hinting at, even if my brain doesn't. “If there isn't a chip inside me controlling my . . . impulses, how is it that I can't touch a boy . . . or a girl, if I played for that side?”

“That part is more complicated,” Edo tells me, her voice box grinding out the words.

“So, uncomplicate it,” I volley without any emotion. These are dangerous waters and I have to be careful now.

“I want you to know . . .” she begins, and then lifts a single hand to finger the blue fabric of the scrubs she is wearing. Edo is nervous now, and we both know she can't hide those nerves from me. Although I am grateful for this small victory, I know the answer must be pretty bad to put her so obviously ill at ease. My own heart starts beating faster. “I want you to know,” she repeats, “that I voiced my opinion very loud and very often against what they did to you. I felt it was cruel and ultimately unnecessary. So please understand that what I am about to tell you is just as disturbing to me as it will be to you.”

“I doubt that,” I say sarcastically, betraying the first hint of emotion that I quickly rein in. “I mean, Roones aren't passionate, but you can hold someone, right? Kiss them? You can have sex?”

“I can. I do, regularly.” Edo sits up a little straighter.

I know that Roones are known for their candor, but I wasn't expecting that level of honesty. “How great for you.” I'm pissed off now. She's so cavalier about something her people made sure I would never experience. I want to stay on track, but I can't help it. “I'm just unclear as to how your presence
on this Earth has really benefited mankind beyond making a bunch of X-Men to deal with The Rift. With the knowledge you possess, your grasp on chemistry and physics? I mean, you could cure every disease known to man. But you don't. You sit around here and play God. You decide who lives, who dies, who gets to have sex, who doesn't . . .”

“There is a compelling argument that you have far more freedom and power than I do, Citadel Ryn. You may come and go as you please. You can fight. Your basic personality is commanding. I'm not much more than a prisoner here.”

I notice another twitch in her eye and she's started talking faster. Edo is lying. But why? Why try to make me believe she's a victim? She has to know I would never fall for that.

“We have helped humanity. We solved the mystery of dementia and Alzheimer's for your people, but we can't suddenly cure everything. It would be too suspicious. And also—unless your governments are willing to put a cap on reproduction—potentially devastating to the continuation of not only your species, but all the resources on your planet.” Well, I couldn't argue with that. Still, that last bit of information just proved she's hardly powerless. What is she playing at?

I let it go. “Fine.” It's not the information I came for, but I know there is more to this. I'm not prepared. I don't have the intel or the backup to deal with this whole other truth. It's like Ezra said. Baby steps. “So tell me. What did they do? Did they molest me?” Oh, God, I feel myself getting emotional. I cannot be emotional right now. I can process this later, at home. I can show Edo only strength, but that feels impossible. “Did they . . . rape me?”

Edo looks down into her lap and then up again at me. There is something there. She is feeling something, too. “You
were not raped and you were not molested in the way that other children are violated. However, you were”—Edo pauses for the right word—“abused.”

I let out a long breath. I had been ready to hear just about anything, but I have to admit, I might not have been able to take it if she had told me I had been subjected to a worst-case scenario.

“So what, then? What did you do?” The conversation is distressing her. I see that. I don't care.