Hollowgirl (5 page)

Clair nodded. There was a vulnerability in her best friend's face that had never been there before.

“Do you trust me now?”

“Of course.”

Raising her right thumb to her mouth, Clair wetted it and reached out to wipe the last of the makeup from Libby's cheek, the makeup covering her birthmark.

Libby's eyes widened, and her hand flew up to stop Clair, but then she froze and let her finish.

“God,” Libby breathed, staring up at the mirrored ceiling, “you can be such a pain.”

“You know it. But only because I'm right.”

A BUMP ARRIVED
from Kari, masked as Zali Pepper.

“The rest are worried,” she said. “You two okay?”

“On our way,” she bumped back. She was surprised that she did feel relatively okay. The cry must have helped, combined with the feeling that she had her best friend back, even if things were still complicated.

“Q?” she said aloud. “We're ready to join the others.”

The booth activated immediately.

sssssss—

“Do you trust this Q?” asked Libby. “She sounds really weird sometimes.”

Was there a hint of jealousy in Libby's tone? “I trust her with my life. She's saved it so many times I've lost count.”

Even as she said it, Clair wondered. Q had been behaving oddly since they had arrived in the Yard. She wondered if it was more than just being distracted by their strange new environment. Did Q resent Clair and the others for being so dependent on her? Could she be worried about her future, if the Air in the Yard wasn't as stable as the Air outside? Clair promised that she would try to talk to Q later, and at least ask if there was a problem.

Add it to my list,
she thought. But at least they were moving now. Waiting in the observatory for Wallace to pounce had been a nightmare.

—pop

Her lenses told her that they were in a tiny town called Harmony on the southern border of the Minnesotan Protectorate. It was compact and clean, with roads that were still being used for wheeled traffic. In the real world, it was surprisingly well populated, thanks mainly to some nearby Amish communities. There was an old church, an overgrown park, and a single line of shop fronts. Maybe the Amish traded their foodstuffs there. Maybe, Clair thought, they used actual
money
.

An extensive cave system justified the booth's existence: tourists would travel that way, but the Amish never would. Clair doubted there would be any tourists now. And given that the Amish never went through d-mat, they wouldn't even exist in the Yard. In Harmony, they would probably be alone.

The door hissed. Clair went to walk through it and collided with the mirror in front of her. Blinking, disoriented, she recoiled into Libby.

“Are you all right?” Libby asked.

“Yes,” she said, rubbing her temple. “Just got turned around. Sorry.”

“You look like you haven't had any sleep for ages. You should think about getting some.”

Clair had to think to remember the last time she had closed her eyes. Maybe Libby was right, and her mental glitches were actually just signs of utter exhaustion.

“Come on out,” called Kari's familiar voice.

Cool, clean air hit them, carrying the smell of fried food. Clair's stomach turned over, suddenly awake.

Libby looked around with her hands on her hips and a disdainful expression on her face. “From crashlander ball to the middle of nowhere. I should've stayed home.”

Kari came around the booth to greet them. “Q picked a good place. The one person left insists on making us breakfast.”

The source of the cooking smell was a brick building sporting a sign saying
HARMONY HOUSE
. Through the window Clair saw Ronnie, Tash, Zep, and Clair One sitting at a table. A large-hipped woman in her fifties with close-cropped white hair fussed around them, putting out cutlery and condiments. The table was the centerpiece of the dining room, covered in nicks and scuffs all polished and repolished to golden smoothness.

“How late
are
we?” Clair asked, mentally adding up her d-mat lags.

“She's a fast worker,” said Kari, guiding them through the entrance. “Wait until you hear her theory.”

“Her what?”

Before Kari could answer the question, the woman hurried up and bustled them toward the table, introducing herself as Mariah as she went.

“Sit, sit. I'll bring your food in a moment. We have only what's seasonal here. I trust that will do.”

“Thank you,” said Clair, staring after the woman in bafflement. She was dressed in clothes that might have been handed down from her grandparents. If she didn't even use a fabber, how was it possible for her to be in the Yard? When could Mariah have ever used d-mat in order to have her pattern stolen?

“You took so long,” hissed Tash.

“We got sidetracked,” said Libby. “Catching up on old times. New times. Whatever.”

“You weren't followed?” asked Clair One.

“Not that we saw,” Clair said, trying to answer calmly. She was still annoyed that Clair One had called the PKs. “You?”

A quick shake of the head. “If we were, Q's not saying anything. She's not saying anything at all.”

Clair tried bumping Q but received no response.

“She's been . . . laggy ever since we arrived here,” Kari said. “I think it has something to do with the way the Yard works. I know it's all information and information is real and whatever, but surely that makes a difference.”

“She'll be all right,” Clair said, telling herself to be as reassured as she sounded. “Q brought us back together, didn't she? And food is a good idea. I wonder if she warned Mariah that we were coming.”

“Mariah didn't know,” said Zep. “She says she's going to serve everyone today for free. God told her to do it.”

Mariah arrived at that moment with plates of eggs,
bacon, fried bread, and onions.

“That should keep you going,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron and heading back to the kitchen.

“Mariah?” Clair called after her.

“One second!”

She returned with coffee, which she poured while they dished out the food. It smelled amazing, almost as good as freshly fabbed food. Zep helped himself to a double serving.

“This is very generous of you,” Clair said to their host. “Why are you being so nice to us?”

“It's my way of atoning,” she said. “You'll find yours.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do what God means you to do and you'll ascend with the others.” She pointed at the ceiling.

“You think . . . this was the Rapture?”

Mariah nodded. “What else could it be? So many people gone . . . and all the children, bless them! I'm a sinner like you, but it's not too late. Heaven's gates are open now. We'll enter when we make ourselves worthy.”

Clair was the only one not eating. The others had heard it before, obviously. Libby just shrugged and dug in.

All the children . . .

Clair hadn't thought of that. Kids could only travel with their parents, so maybe their patterns were hard to separate, or maybe even Wallace wouldn't normally stoop that low. Either way, she tried not to think about what some
parents in the Yard were going through, just as she was trying not to think about her own.

All she could do was give Mariah false hope in return for her generosity. “This looks delicious. You're very kind.”

“It's nothing. Eat up.”

Curiosity got the better of her before Mariah could leave. “Just one more question,” Clair asked, slipping out of her parka and reaching for the eggs. “When did you last use d-mat?”

“Yesterday,” Mariah said. “My daughter and grandkids live in New Zealand. There are some around here who wouldn't allow me the right to visit them. They tell people to stay away because I'm some kind of monster. Well, God has his plans for them, I'm sure. Never had any problems with the Amish that way.”

Clair One cocked her head. “You're not talking about the Amish?”

“No, the Stainers.” Mariah's expression hardened. Even the goodwill of saints had limits.

Clair understood then. That was why Mariah was in the Yard. Where there were Abstainers, there was likely to be WHOLE. A small cell, at least. Duping Mariah's pattern was the only means Wallace had of spying on the Abstainers in Harmony.

Clair wanted to press further, thinking of her need for allies, and of Jesse. Making contact with WHOLE could help on both fronts. But this wasn't Mariah's fight. It was
Clair's. She would find another way.

“Thanks, Mariah,” she said, forcing a smile. “Their loss. The Stainers, I mean.”

The others chorused their agreement through mouths in various degrees of fullness, and Mariah went back to the kitchen, looking satisfied.

CLAIR SHOVELED EGGS
high onto her fork, intending to eat as much as she could while she had the chance. It didn't matter one bit that her mind insisted it was just information. Her body was made of the very same stuff, and it made no complaints. Two cups of coffee washed it all down, steaming, bitter, and black.

The conversation around her mirrored her own concerns.

“We can't stay in here,” said Tash. “I don't want to be made of nothing.”

“It's not
nothing
,” said Ronnie. “It's numbers.”

“I don't want to be numbers, then. They're too easily erased. Why can't we just upload everything to the real world and put it all back the way it was?”

“There isn't a booth big enough.”

“So make one.” She shrugged. “Or break the Yard down into bits and do it slowly.”

Clair nodded. “That's what I want to do.”

“So why can't we just do it?” said Tash. “I don't understand.”

“The first step is to find a way to talk to someone outside.” Clair didn't want to say that there might not be anyone left out there with the ability to access the Yard. “Someone who has a working booth, even a small one. The easiest way to do that is to find the exit, first.”

“Which means finding Wallace,” said Kari. “He's masked, along with everyone I can think of who might be connected to him. Believe me, I've looked.”

“How?” asked Ronnie.

“I'm probably the only honest peacekeeper in the Yard,” Kari said. “I have access to back doors you never dreamed of.”

“But you still can't find him?” said Clair One.

“No. Instead, I've been trying to work out who exactly
is
in here with us, and why. PK protocols get me into all sorts of population data.”

Libby leaned forward. “What have you found?”

“Well, we already know that Wallace was taking people who had come too close to discovering Improvement and the lawmakers' plans. But that doesn't explain why people like Tash, Ronnie, and Zep were included. Your value to Wallace is as blackmail fodder, since you're connected to Libby and Clair. The question I've been asking myself is: how connected do you have to be for Wallace to think
you might be useful? What are the degrees of separation?”

“I'm guessing you know,” said Clair One in a stop-playing-games voice that sounded like their mother. Clair was appalled: she didn't know she did that. “What's the answer?”

“Two, at least. From Libby to you, Tash, is one degree of separation. From Libby to your parents is two—and your parents
are
in here, you'll be pleased to know. Beyond that, though, it gets a little muddy. The connections aren't easy to tease out between Tash's mother and every other person inside the Yard.”

“My parents are here?” asked Tash, her face lighting up with relief.

“Yes,” said Kari. “All of your parents are here. But I strongly advise you not to contact them. They're being watched. All attempts to communicate will be traced back to us—and you've seen what that means.”

Despite Kari's warning, Clair mentally exhaled with relief. Her mother was alive. But how was she going to explain to Allison that she had
two
daughters now?

“That must make for a shitload of people,” said Zep, “depending on how long it's been going on.”

“Yes, there are millions in here. I can't be precise because some of them are hidden.”

“What about the patterns of dead people?” asked Clair, bracing herself for the bad news she hadn't been willing
to consider earlier. “Is PK Drader going to come after us again?”

“He's listed by the Air as deceased. I've no reason to think that's not the case, given the rules of the Yard.”

“Dead means dead,” said Zep. “As it ought to.”

That was reassuring when it came to their enemies, but worrying when it came to themselves. They couldn't afford mistakes now.

“Finally,” said Kari, “I see no evidence of deletions. That's the best news of all.”

Clair agreed. If Wallace could simply reach into the Yard and delete people at will, he could take out all of Harmony just to get rid of them. He must, therefore, be constrained by the rules of his own world, just like they were. But that didn't mean he wasn't working on other means right now—means that might result in their imminent capture or death.

“Where does that leave us?” Clair One asked. “Wallace may be working on a deletion hack as we speak.”

“So we find him,” said Ronnie. “How?”

“If he's got an exit, he'll be waiting for us,” said Libby. “That's what I'd do if I were him: sit on the plug hole and pick off anyone who comes too close.”

“Are we sure that's the only way to get out?” asked Zep.

“Q never said anything about an alternative,” Clair said.

“What about those RADICAL guys you mentioned
earlier?” asked Tash. “Can they help?”

“Maybe,” she said. “They keep their heads pretty low. Have you found any of them in here, Kari?”

“None of the names I'm familiar with appear in the Air,” said Kari. “There's no sign of Devin or Trevin. But, again, they could be masked.”

Clair thought of Jesse, too. He
had
to be in here, didn't he? So maybe he was hidden like everyone else. But in that case, why wasn't he looking for her? Or was he, but he simply hadn't found her yet?

“So much for never doing anything.”

His voice was so clear that she almost jumped out of her chair. He had said those words a week ago while trudging across the empty countryside, but he wasn't here now. It was just her and her friends, and Mariah bustling away in the kitchen. Clair One was staring down at her plate with a closed expression while Kari explained that RADICAL was a secret organization dedicated to enhancing human life via technology, and to stomping down anything that might stand in the way of that goal.

“Excuse me,” Clair said, standing up. The glitch had left her feeling shaky, like she might throw up. She peered inquiringly over the counter at Mariah, who pointed to a door at the back. There, in the relative cool and quiet of a bathroom cubicle, feeling drained and alone, Clair put her head in her hands for a moment and waited for the nausea to pass.

What if Wallace hadn't kept Jesse's pattern? What if Jesse was gone and all she had were memories that wouldn't ever leave her be?

With shaking hands she washed her face in the sink.

Tash was right. Clair couldn't take anything for granted. This might feel like the real world—right down to the taste of fresh eggs and strong coffee that made her heart race—but it was temporary at best. She needed to find the exit before Wallace found her, get hold of a working booth, and rebuild everything on the outside, where real really
was
real. She would fix the terrible betrayal Wallace had wreaked on humanity, because the alternative was worse than death: a humanity duped and enslaved under dictators like Kingdon, who cared only about herself and the power she wielded.

Friends first, then the world.

But the world couldn't wait forever.

A smell hit her from out of nowhere, musk and skin and hair: Jesse. She stood upright so fast her head glanced off the bottom of the vanity, exactly where she had banged it coming out of the booth.

“I'm losing it,” she said, leaning her hip against the sink and touching her tender scalp. No blood.

“Clair?” came a bump from Kari. “Better get out here. Something odd is going on.”

“Odd how?”

“Clair One says she saw Jesse.”

Clair burst out of the bathroom and ran into the dining room.

“Where?” she asked, looking around.

“I feel like I'm going crazy.” Clair One, staring at her with wide eyes. “I see them out of the corner of my eye. . . . The Lurker, but there's some guy with a big chin too. A woman with different-colored eyes. A kid with cornrows.”

Jesse,
thought Clair, and members of WHOLE they had met together.
Turner. Jamila. Cashile.

“I've tried taking their picture with my lenses,” Clair One went on, “but it never works. They're like glitches or ghosts, not real.”

“Data ghosts,” said Tash.

“If we're both seeing them, that means they're real,” Clair said.

“You should've said something,” said Ronnie. “How do we know you aren't being hacked somehow?”

That was a horrible thought. It didn't feel like Wallace, though.

“I just thought I was tired,” Clair said.

“D-mat girl,” said Jesse, right into her ear. She jumped, and Clair One jumped too.

“The Lurker again.”

“His name is
Jesse
,” Clair said.

“All right, but why am I hearing him? I barely even know him.”

That triggered a thought.

“Maybe it's coming from me,” she said. “What if my mind is leaking into yours—because there are two of us and the Yard is confused about whose memories are whose?”

“Could be,” said Kari. “The existence of two people with one name is bound to cause errors, particularly when you're so close to each other and if the Yard is trying to fix those errors—”

“
You're
updating
her
,” said Zep, pointing from Clair to Clair One.

“How do I make it stop?” asked Clair One. “I don't want to be written over.”

“It can't just be that, though,” Clair said. “The glitches are coming more often, and they're not just of Jesse. The first one I saw was of a woman with purple hair, someone I don't know.”

“Long down one side?” asked Kari, making a waterfall with her fingers past her right cheek. Her eyes widened when Clair nodded. “That's Billie. That memory came from me.”

“So we're leaking into one another,” said Clair. “Maybe it happens when someone really concentrates on someone else. Information is real, so the Yard sees what's going on in our brains and makes connections.”

“Amplified by the two of you being weirdness magnets,” said Libby. “It makes sense. Like the Yard is trying to make things right but making things more wrong in the process.”

“Could it spread?” asked Tash with a worried expression. “Because
I'm
hearing things now. Jesse just said, ‘I love you, but I hate what you stand for'—something like that.”

Clair nodded. That was from their last argument.

“Whatever it is,” said Clair One, gripping the table, “we have to do something before we're overwhelmed.”

“Let's not rush into anything,” said Kari.

Clair looked up at a new sound, a machine noise coming from outside Harmony House, distant but growing closer.

“You all hear
that
, don't you?”

They nodded.

“A data ghost on an electrobike?” said Zep. “I don't think so.”