GLAZE (18 page)

‘What? Oh that?’ Kiara says. ‘That’s stuff is all over the city. I really can’t believe you’re on.’
 

‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’

‘I guess. Why can’t you open your eyes?’ I feel her warm hands on my face.
 

‘Adjustment period. Everything will be fine.’
 

‘Bullshit,’ she says. ‘I’m calling a cab.’

‘Is your friend OK?’ a deep voice says. I open my eyes to see Bunny, the bouncer, looking down at me.
 

// B
OSS
, I
THINK
WE
GOT
ANOTHER
TOASTER
. W
HAT
YOU
WANT
ME
TO
DO
? //

‘Toaster? I’m not a toaster. I don’t even know what a toaster is,’ I say.
 

Bunny backs away from me, his head tilting from side to side as if he’s trying to work something out. Neither of us have time to understand.
 

‘Come on,’ Kiara says. ‘The cab’s here.’
 

I leave Bunny and the passionate panda behind and exit the alleyway. As soon as I hit the street the amount of data doubles. Triples. Whereas before I only saw information tagged with whatever I was looking at, now it’s coming from everywhere at once. I’m starting to get a little freaked.
 

// F
UN
FOR
FREAKS
. //
 

I shut my eyes to block out the image of a woman with four legs gyrating before my eyes, and feel my way into the seat of the cab.

‘If she throws up in here, I’m charging extra.’
 

‘Just drive,’ Kiara says, and I hear the car door slam.
 

It’s best if I keep my eyes closed. Every time I blink them open I’m hit by a wall of virtual noise. Slivers of people’s lives coming at me from all directions. I should probably be scared. But I’m not. In fact, by the time the cab pulls up outside Kiara’s house I’m shaking with excitement. Kiara, on the other hand, is not impressed.
 

‘Will you tell me what the hell is going on?’ she demands, slamming the door behind her once we’ve made it into the safety of her bedroom.
 

‘Stop freaking out, Kiara, everything will be fine.’ I say for the tenth time.
 

‘Shut up, Petri. You’re annoying me now,’ Kiara says in her scared voice.
 

I’m shoved onto her bed with a little more force than I think is absolutely necessary and I bang my head on the wall.
 

‘Now, start from the beginning,’ she says.
 

I sigh and start talking, about the riot and the ban and then Ryan bringing me to Logan. Kiara’s always been a good listener and she only interrupts if she doesn’t understand something. I explain about the DNA code and the deal I made with Logan. The only thing that annoys her is that I bothered to help Ryan, whom she has decided she really doesn’t like. I’m starting to agree. When I get to the bit about having my blank rewritten I hear her stand up and pace around her room. Her footsteps are heavy.
 

‘And now, this. But seriously, it will all be OK,’ I say.
 

‘You keep saying that, Petri, but you can’t even open your eyes! Who knows what they’ve done to you?’

‘You sound like Ethan.’

‘Who now?’

‘The boy from the roof top?’

‘We need to get you some help. Your mum will know what to do.’

‘No!’ I shout. ‘Just give me some time to adjust. Please.’
 

I curl my knees up into my chest and open my eyes. This time I’m going to keep them open. How am I going to adjust if I keep hiding all the time?

Every object in Kiara’s room is tagged with data. Where it was bought, how much it cost. Posters of pop stars come loaded with tracks from their latest albums, a print by some artist with information on its live sales price. On top of that comes what I’m now thinking of as the random information. Messages from people I don’t know; information about them and their lives that they’re hurtling out on to Glaze.
 

I focus on a painting pinned to the wall. It’s a swirl of colours and textures. One of Kiara’s. There’s no information tag—no manufacturing date or name of maker or purchase details. It’s like the only real thing in the room.
 

Staring at it eases the noise. Like I’m now only picking up one signal.
 

‘Static,’ I say.

‘Static? What’s static?’ Kiara says. She’s sitting cross-legged on her chair.
 

‘Do you remember we built that radio in physics?’

‘I try and make a point of forgetting everything we learned in physics.’
 

‘We built a radio receiver. And Mr Jarvis said that before everything went digital, TV and radio was all sent out in waves and everyone had receivers in their home to pick up the signals. And all that information is still out there, floating in space. With a receiver you can pick it up. But you have to tune into the right signal. And we picked up the Lincolnshire Poacher, don’t you remember? That freaky folk song followed by a string of numbers read out by a woman’s voice. Mr Jarvis said it might have been used to send messages to spies, but no one knew. I tried to decode it. I guess that’s what’s wrong. It’s like my channel isn’t tuned in and I just have to find the right signal.’

‘OK, let’s pretend I followed any of that, so how do you do it?’

‘It’s already getting easier.’
 

// E
ASIER
. //

// T
HAT
EXAM
WAS
SO EASY. //

// I’
M
EASY,
COME
CHAT
TODAY
. //

I close my eyes again to hold back the image of the barely clothed woman reaching out to me.
 

‘Yeah, sure. Looks like it,’ Kiara says.
 

When I open my eyes again the woman has gone. I feel tired. Like I’m being dragged down by all these lives.
 

‘Maybe if I get some sleep then it will all settle down? An hour or so.’
 

I lay down on Kiara’s bed and look at the glow-in-the-dark stars she has stuck to her ceiling. Her light is on, so they’re just white, plastic shapes for now, marking out constellations.
 

// T
HE
CONSTELLATION
OF
L
EO
. //

// T
ODAY
’
S
PREDICTIONS
FOR
L
EO
. E
MOTIONS
,
PREJUDICES
,
OR
UNRESOLVED
ISSUES
FROM
THE
PAST
COME
UP
... //

// R
EGULUS
. B
RIGHTEST
STAR
IN
THE
L
EO
CONSTELLATION
. U
SED
BY
SAILORS
WHEN
THEY
HAD
LOST
THEIR
WAY
AND
NEEDED
TO
NAVIGATE
BY
THE
STARS
. //

That’s me, I think. I’ve lost my way. But soon, I’ll find my way home. I close my eyes and let the black silence wash over me.

16

I DON’T KNOW HOW
long Kiara’s let me sleep. But when I open my eyes the stars have started to glow. I manage all of ten seconds before the static comes back, and with it the realisation of what I’ve done.
 

‘How are you feeling?’ Kiara says. She’s sat in her chair, her desk lamp switched on, watching me. She’s changed out of her clubbing gear and into tracky bottoms and a t-shirt.
 

‘Fine, I’m... // OK. F
INE
. B
E
LIKE
THAT
. // K
RYSTAL
IS
S
OOOO
FINE // I
GOT
A
BLOODY
PARKING
FINE
! // fine.’
 

I sit up and squint at Kiara through the rush of images.
 

‘You always were a crap liar, Petri. Here.’ She hands me a glass of water, which I can tell from the data tag is exactly 22ºC.
 

‘Do you...’ I pause, worried about what her answer might be. ‘Do you see this much information, all the time?’
 

‘What kind of information?’
 

‘Like the exact temperature of this glass of water, or that you bought that shirt at Zara and your laptop has 3TB of spare RAM?’

She looks at her laptop. ‘I guess. If I focus on it.’

‘Focus. Right. I need to learn to focus.’ I rub at my temples, trying to ignore a new wave of images and messages. Who knew Glaze was filled with so much… so much crap?

‘Petri, I’m worried about you. Like seriously worried. And not like when you got drunk on my dad’s schnapps and threw up in the shed. This is bad. We have to tell your mum. She works for the—’

‘No. No way!’ I stand up. ‘You have to promise me you won’t tell her. Promise me, Kiara.’ I grab Kiara by the shoulders and shake her. I’m scaring her, I can tell, so I drop my hands and step away.
 

‘OK, I promise. What if we tell my mum? I know she only worked in data processing, but she might know someone who can help?’

‘Just give me some time.’
 

// T
HE
TIME
SPONSORED
BY
W
HITE
I
NC
L
IFE
I
NSURANCE
IS
22:36. //

‘Bet I wake up tomorrow and it will be working A-OK.’ I make the OK sign with my fingers and Kiara laughs.
 

‘You’re such a freak, Petri. Who even says that any more?’
 

‘Well, I have a lot of catching up to do.’ I force a smile. It makes my cheeks ache. ‘I’d better get home.’
 

‘OK, but I’m you calling a corp car. There’s no way you’re going on public transport in this state.’

I nod my agreement. There might as well be some benefits of my mum’s job.
 

‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘Let me call them. I can do that right?’

‘Sure. You think WhiteInc Transport and you should be put straight through.’
 

I do what she says. But I’m getting nothing that’s making any kind of sense. Random slides from company staff calling their own cars. But I can’t connect. Instead, I keep getting a message in the soothing font of the network.

// N
O
SUCH
USER
. //

I let out a sigh of exasperation.

‘Let me do it,’ Kiara says softly. And I let her.
 

The car arrives five minutes later. I wave goodbye to Kiara, or what I can make out of her beneath the wave of images that hit me once I step out onto the street. I keep my eyes open long enough to get to the car and climb in.
 

‘Good evening, Miss Quinn. Directly home?’ The driver says, as we pull away. It’s Frank, the man who drives me to and from school every day.
 

// P
ICKING
UP
ANOTHER
SPOILT
BRAT
WHO
CAN
’
T
EVEN
WALK
HALF
A
MILE
. //
 

 
‘Was that you?’ I say, excitedly, ignoring the insult.
 

‘Was what me, Miss?’
 

‘The “brat” slide? Did you send that?’
 

I catch his reflection in the rearview mirror. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare in fear. ‘I... I didn’t mean it.’
 

‘No, it’s fine. It means I’m getting closer.’
 

I sit back in the soft leather seats and relax a little. It’s OK, I tell myself, a few hours and everything will work fine. A good night’s sleep and everything will be fine.
 

The car pulls up outside my house five minutes later. I go to let myself out but the doors won’t open.
 

The driver twists around in his seat. ‘About that slide. I don’t know how you got it, it wasn’t meant for you, and I’m sorry. But, um...’
 

‘Don’t worry,’ I say, patting him on the shoulder. ‘It will be our secret.’
 

He breathes a heavy sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. And if you need a lift anywhere, you call for me, OK?’

The doors clunk open. I let myself out and watch the car pull away, wondering how much that secret could have been worth.
 

The steps up to my house seem too large, too steep. I make my way up them with my eyes scrunched tight, trying to keep as much of the information at bay. I press my hand to the cool key reader and the door swings open.
 

‘Good evening?’ Zizi is standing in the hallway. I hadn’t expected her to be home. She’s wearing her bright blue kimono again, but it can’t hide the pallor of her skin. She looks tired.
 

‘Why aren’t you at work?’ I say.
 

// W
ORK
SUCKED
TODAY
. // W
ORK
IS
THE
CURSE
OF
THE
DRINKING
CLASSES
. //

I try to shake off the messages coming at me.
 

‘It’s 22:30, Petri. Besides, I gave myself the day off,’ she says, as if distracted by something. She’s staring at me.
 

I stare back. Not because I want another argument, but because of all the data she’s giving off. Her name, birth date, address, work position, articles she’s written, books she’s reading. All of it, flowing out of her, for the world to see.
 

She strides towards me, takes my face in her hands and stares into my eyes like she did with Kiara. ‘Petri, what’s happened? What are you on?’
 

I shake her away. ‘Nothing. Leave me alone.’

‘If you’ve started to do drugs, we can talk about it, Petri. I experimented myself in my youth—’

‘Don’t!’ I screamed. ‘Don’t you dare make this about you. I’m not doing anything. I just want to be left alone.’