“They’re right there,” Beck said. “You were just looking at them.” He took my shoulders and turned me back toward the boats.
“But they’re sailboats,” I said. I looked at North because I couldn’t look at Beck. It’s not that they were terrible pictures; it was just that they were the type of photographs you’d expect to see in a doctor’s office or the lobby of a chain hotel. Commercial. Pretty. Forgettable.
“That’s my thing now,” Beck replied with no trace of defensiveness. “Boats and bridges. I realized that my previous work was too depressing to sell.”
My mouth opened, but no words came out. Beck’s work was evocative and powerful and raw. Hard to look at sometimes, but that was the point. “Too depressing?”
“Unfortunately, Rory, even artists have to eat,” Beck said pleasantly. Beside me, North cleared his throat.
“I think they’re beautiful,” he told Beck, stepping up for a closer look. “The glossy finish really makes them pop.” This was true, but it wasn’t a compliment. The images looked fake, like stock screensavers. “Were they all shot in Seattle?”
“Yep,” Beck replied. “On three consecutive days. The Gold comes with a photo app that links to Lux. You just type in the kind of photo you want, and Lux’ll show you where in the city to shoot, and what time of day. Takes all the effort out of it.”
“What happened to ‘Lux thinks like a computer, not an artist,’” I asked, barely able to look at him now.
“Every artist needs tools for his craft,” Beck said. “Lux is one of mine.”
“And the Doubt?” I asked softly. In my peripheral vision, I saw North’s head turn.
“Quiet at last,” Beck said, as though this was something to celebrate.
My stomach churned. “You’re taking Evoxa.”
“Nope. Still think that stuff fries your brain. I just took Lux’s advice and told the voice I didn’t need it anymore. Not long after that, it stopped.”
My brain couldn’t process a response. It was as if I were interacting with some alternate version of my best friend. I stared at his photographs, hating them even more now, wishing I could tear them from the wall and throw them into the fountain.
“Please proceed to the courtyard,” I heard Beck say. But, of course, it wasn’t actually Beck, but his electronic sidekick. It took restraint for me not to rip the Gold off his wrist and hurl it against the wall.
“We should get going,” the real Beck said. North slipped his hand in mine.
Just then there was a tinkling sound, like a glass being tapped with a knife, but louder, and coming through the overhead speakers. Our signal that the speech was about to start. We followed Beck back outside.
“Ladies and gentlemen” came a familiar voice. Tarsus was behind the gold-plated podium. She was introducing him? I quickly ducked behind North. Beck gave me a quizzical look. “On behalf of my fellow Gnosis board members, it is my great honor to introduce a man who needs no introduction. The visionary behind Lux and the architect of the game-changing device we’re here tonight to celebrate. The CEO and face of Gnosis, Griffin Payne.” The crowd erupted in applause as Griffin joined her on the stage.
“Thank you, Esperanza.” Griffin’s smile looked more like a grimace as he stepped up to the mic. “And thank you all for coming, and for helping to make Gnosis what it is today.” He looked up at the ceiling for a second then continued. “When I started as an intern at the company the summer after high school, I thought I’d hit the career jackpot. Here was a company committed to remaining at the forefront of technological innovation that wanted to do good in the world. I was a kid with a broken heart who was given the opportunity to help design an app that would make sure it would never happen again.” There was twittering in the audience, scattered whispers. This was not something Griffin had ever shared publicly. But the man at the podium seemed unaware of his audience’s reaction. He kept talking. “It was a lofty notion, the idea that we could improve society with a handheld app.” Griffin seemed to falter a little. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “A lofty notion,” he continued. “And a misguided one.” He paused and gripped the podium, his face suddenly ashen. He wiped his brow again and blinked his eyes a few times as if he were having trouble focusing. “The truth is that—” He was still talking, but all of a sudden his words were garbled. Unintelligible. A woman beside me whispered, “He’s not making any sense.”
Tarsus mounted the stage in a single step, just in time to catch Griffin as he fell.
23
“RORY, WE HAVE TO GO,” North said urgently. EMTs were hurriedly strapping Griffin to a stretcher, barking at one another in rapid fire. I hadn’t moved since Griffin collapsed nineteen minutes ago. Nor had I spoken. I felt as if the floor beneath me had given way and I was floating through the air, weightless. This couldn’t be happening. I didn’t even know what “this” was yet. Was Griffin dead?
“Rory,” North said again.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Okay,” I said.
Beck was on his Gold, watching the Forum chatter about what had happened. Since Griffin had collapsed during a live broadcast, it was all anyone on Forum was talking about. New posts were popping up so fast, Beck’s screen was a whirl of vertical motion.
“Come with us,” I said to Beck suddenly. “Take the train with us back to Theden. You can stay at North’s.” I looked at North for confirmation. “Right?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ve got plenty of room.”
Beck was already shaking his head. “I can’t. I have the MFA event tomorrow.”
“You’ll be back by then. There are trains nearly every hour.”
I could see Beck considering it. He seemed uncertain. “Let me ask Lux,” he said finally.
“You can’t ask Lux,” I said sharply. “I’m not supposed to be here, so you can’t ask it if you can leave with me.”
Beck’s eyes were instantly suspicious. “What do you mean, you’re not supposed to be here?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, squeezing my fists in frustration to keep from shaking him. “God, Beck, just come with us. You’ll be back in plenty of time.”
“Rory, we really need to go,” North said gently. “It’s gonna be hard to get a cab, and we can’t miss our train.”
I looked at Beck. “You coming?”
He took a step back, away from me.
“Forget it,” I barked, spinning on my heels as angry tears sprung to my eyes. “North, let’s go.”
“Nice to meet you,” I heard North say behind me. “Good luck with the exhibit.”
“Rory!” Beck called. I didn’t look back.
By the time we made it to our train, the mainstream news media had picked up the story. We watched coverage the whole way back. A little after eleven, Gnosis released a statement. Griffin Payne had suffered a stroke.
“A stroke?” My voice faltered. “He’s thirty-five. He was on the cover of Men’s Health last month. How could he have a stroke?”
North just shook his head. “He’ll be okay. He’s got the best doctors in the world.”
I pressed the heels of my hands to my forehead in frustration. “Ugh! I feel like we took one step forward and, like, eleven steps back.” And then, out of nowhere and out of everywhere, I was crying. This time I didn’t even try to hold it in. North pulled me toward him, wrapping both arms around me. I wept noisily into his jacket, which smelled like woodsy cologne and not like North at all.
“None of it makes any sense,” I said, my voice muffled by herringbone. “Griffin said my mom was their class valedictorian. Why would she leave just hours before graduation?”