An image slides across the screen from the right, showing a picture of her, all prepped for a long night at Inner Sector Medical’s critical-care unit. Her hair is swept back, and she’s wearing the oatmeal T-shirt that she layers underneath the top of her scrubs. She’s even wearing a little makeup, which brings a subtle warmth to her complexion that I haven’t seen in a while. I find myself smiling at her, even though in the snapshot she’s just looking straight ahead, her mouth slightly open.
I press the green oval button next and the message begins to play.
“Hi, honey. I’m sorry that we’re missing each other tonight, especially after what happened today.” Her gaze dips down for a second and she pauses, like she’s trying to figure out the right thing to say. When she looks back up, her eyes are a little glassy, and my throat tightens.
“I don’t blame you for being angry, but I had to agree with your principal about your punishment. Two weeks of detention may seem harsh to you, but it could have been a lot worse.” She flashes a hint of a smile and I know the worst is over.
“I’ll be back in the morning. Hopefully I’ll catch you for breakfast. There are waffles in the freezer,” she says, smiling. “Sleep tight.”
The video ends, and I sigh in relief as I close the viewing window on the screen with the remote. The impromptu chat we had with Caldwell this afternoon was pretty brief, and I couldn’t really tell how Mom was going to react once she didn’t have a school administrator huffing and puffing at her. I’m so thankful that the whole thing didn’t blow up in my face at home, because two weeks of detention is not going to be a walk in the park.
I’m about to shut the InstaComm off when an envelope icon bursts to the center of the screen, spinning in a circle with the number one in the center of it. I click the Upload button on the remote, and the IP address is from a sender that’s not in our list of contacts. The message has a large AVI attachment, which instantly makes me wary, but my curiosity gets the best of me, so I open it anyway.
I press the Launch key on the remote. As the file loads, I think about how much Josh had to go through to unearth Avery’s vlog, especially since it had been completely scourged from all the internet caches.
I guess that master badge in computer science wasn’t a joke.
Soon a still photo of Avery appears in front of me, her eyes already piercing through the screen. Her curly hair is hanging loose around her face and down to her shoulders, and her glasses sit on the end of her nose. I hit the Play button and then jack up the volume so I won’t miss a single word.
“I have breaking news in the Elusion story. Someone with insider information got in touch with me after the big Orexis press conference announcing that Elusion received CIT approval and the program would be launched nationally,” she says, her voice seemingly filled with more emotion than an aspiring journalist should really have.
I lean in, staring Avery down with a scowl.
“My source tells me that there is a hidden object inside all the Escapes—a firewall, to be exact—that lures uninhibited and vulnerable users closer to it every time they use Elusion, stimulating some kind of neurological response. We believe this firewall was specifically designed by developers at Orexis to create a biological addiction to their product so they could make billions!”
I throw my hands up in the air. Avery is totally fabricating things. I have never seen one of these firewalls of hers while in Elusion, and I was just there with Patrick.
“And it’s working. Orexis stock is at an all-time high. Elusion users are finding themselves going back in more and more often, unable to control their urges. And the CIT did nothing to stop them. A new scourge is about to affect our country, turning the people we love into . . . E-fiends!”
E-fiends?
A tad dramatic, but I have to give her credit—she looks like she believes what she’s saying. In fact, I never would’ve believed Avery Leavenworth could be so emotional.
“Soon my source will go on record to verify that Orexis falsified their test data to get their precious safety seal! Soon this company will be brought to its kn—”
I hit the Pause button, but given the surge of anger that’s slicing through me, I’m surprised I don’t throw the remote at the screen.
But as much as I wish I could just discount Avery as a nasty, pathological liar, I can’t. And that’s what makes me even more frustrated.
I look deep into the freeze-framed eyes on the screen and realize I’ve had it all wrong. Avery isn’t causing problems for Patrick out of maliciousness. She actually thinks she’s saving the world. And because of her fervent belief, people are starting to take notice. People like . . . Josh.
There’s only one solution: I have to prove to Avery, and to everyone else, that she is wrong. And there’s only one way to do that.
I need to find the firewall.
When my eyes blink open, I have to immediately shade them with my hands. It’s not Elusion’s signature white light that’s interfering with my vision, but an array of shocking colors. The sky is a shade of bright peach, the scattered clouds an effervescent pink so fluffy and low I’m tempted to jump up and tear off a piece like warm cotton candy. The sun is centered directly above me, a swirling, pulsating mass of hot purple and robin’s-egg blue.
I push myself up, wiggling my toes in the plum-and-bright-red-speckled sand that sparkles around me like a sheet of tie-dyed diamonds. My pale skin looks perfectly bronzed against a green halter-top bikini that magically gives me an hourglass shape.
I push myself to my feet, transfixed by the shining silver sea, its waves cresting into a foaming kaleidoscope of colors before crashing to the shore.
This is not the same tropical Thai beach that I visited the day after I found out my father was never coming home again—the one with the lush, heavy palm trees and blue-green water with dark seaweed floating in clumps underneath the surface, the one that looked like a real place. This Escape destination is a confectionary creation, rebuilt and redesigned by Patrick and his new team of programmers. The only thing that remains from before is the faint fairy-dust outline of every piece of stimulus surrounding me.
But why?
The question doesn’t linger in my mind for long. The wondrous lull of trypnosis is penetrating every one of my brain cells. When I take a deep breath of the invigorating, sweet sea air, my inner serenity takes over and pushes out any remnants of nagging thoughts about the dismantling of my father’s world in favor of this fluorescent hyperreality.
A mellow breeze gently blows my hair, and I tuck it behind my ear. I turn toward the water as it begins to rise and crest, reaching into the peach sky and rushing along the shore with a thunderous roar. I stand up, my feet cushioned by the soft, cool sand, and walk toward the water, reaching it just as a frothy wave breaks. I laugh and jump back in delight as the water splashes all the way up to my stomach, causing my skin to glow. I take a step forward and then another, wading into the silver ocean. It feels as if the tide is moving not around me but through me, encouraging me to go farther with every wave. When I’m thigh deep in the sparkling water, a thought tugs at me and I pause.