Data is gathered passively by means of a neuronano relay chip (hereafter CHIP) implanted in the child’s bloodstream between four weeks and fourteen years of age. It is painless and undetectable to the body or the eye.
HH, RCHE, and all programs now or in the future involved in Interperception guarantee that you will never be approached or identified by former GUESTS. Punishment for GUEST–HOST interaction outside of Interperception is severe (see pamphlet WHO’S ON YOUR MIND for greater detail). Because of the profound influence of data gathered, HOSTS are never told of their selection but serve in complete anonymity.
Parents must agree not to inform their children of their status as potential HOSTS until after the date of their 25th birthday, when that status is revoked. Should a parent violate this provision, the case becomes a matter for Serenity Services, subject to the full spectrum of punishments available under the law, including but not limited to fines, permanent suspension of parental rights, and jail time. Your signature on this contract signals your acceptance of all conditions for yourself and your FAMILY.
Sadie finished reading before Ford did, but she kept staring at the contract. She was fascinated by the differences between the materials she’d been given and these. There was no nuance, none of the excitement that bubbled from the Mind Corps Fellowship application materials. The translation of Subjects into Hosts and Minders into Guests made the enterprise feel less scientific and more accessible. And there was no mention of Syncopy—because, she realized, it hadn’t existed nineteen years earlier when the contract was written, and neither had Mind Corps.
The entire mission had been nebulous because they hadn’t known what their technology could do, just that in time it could do something extraordinary. Sadie admired the audacity of that, the ability to look beyond the factual and plan for a potential but not yet conceivable future. She felt a rush of pride to be part of something that visionary.
Ford’s reaction was completely different. As he read, the words started to vibrate, and she felt him shift to keep the door of his anger closed. His mind got noisier, voices muttering furiously, some full sentences, some no more than growls. At one point he barked with uncomfortable laughter, and that seemed like the worst of all.
“Hosts. Guests. Like we’re having a damn party,” he said. “The condescending assholes, to think we’d fall for something like that.”
His mother said quietly, “When you brought up the symbol on your ID the other day, I knew I had to tell you. No matter what.”
He stared at her blankly. “You mortgaged my brain to Roque Industries.” His tone was acrid.
His mother flinched at his bitterness. “That’s not how it was. Your father was in jail, we had no money, and then you came early.” She leaned forward, urging him to understand. “They wouldn’t let me stay in the hospital without insurance. And you were so small, if we didn’t stay you would have been in danger. It was the only way I could take care of you.”
His mind was curling in on itself, filled with the stinging, noxious scent of bleach, of betrayal. “You gave complete strangers permission to rifle through my memories, entertain themselves with my secrets, spy on my life, with no notice, whenever they wanted. To do whatever they wanted inside my head secretly, no questions asked. You turned me into a lab rat, something to run experiments on.”
That’s not fair, Sadie said. I’m not a stranger, and I’m not experimenting on you. Everything I do is for your own good.
Mrs. Winter’s eyes were defiant, but she was trembling. “I did what I had to do as a parent to protect my child.”
“Protect me?” He gave a mirthless laugh. “No. Let’s not be like these”—he pushed the contract aside—“hypocrites, and play with language to hide the truth. Let’s be very clear.” He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. “You sold my most private parts to Roque, for them to use as they please. You whored me out, Mother. How is that fulfilling your duty as a parent? How is that protecting me?”
Mrs. Winter’s face was a mask of horror. Stop, Sadie said, half yelling, half begging. That’s not how it is.
It was too much for his mother. She collapsed, elbows on her knees, face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She was sobbing, shaking. “I did what I had to do. I wanted you so badly, I wanted you to live. I didn’t know what else to do.” Her body rocked back and forth, as though it couldn’t contain all its pain. She gazed at him, her eyes red, her cheeks tear-stained. “Look at you. You’re healthy. You’re strong. Why do you resent me so much? Why?”
Inside of Ford the slick contempt, the furious screaming, the bazaar of disgust and self-loathing, the bitter incense of bleach all vanished, replaced by the velvety pain of self-recrimination. “I don’t, Mom.” He knelt beside her and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I don’t. I understand why you did it. I’m sorry.”
Instead of getting softer her sobs got louder, as though only now, in the comforting circle of his embrace, could she finally let go.
Sadie heard him think how small she was in his arms, how fragile. He saw the roots of her hair, darker than the ends, and the tight, dry, sallow skin on her hands. His mind formed an earlier memory of her wearing a long strapless dress, a two-year-old Lulu holding one hand, both of them smiling. She looked beautiful, a real knockout, soft and round and glowing.
“I don’t resent you,” he said, smoothing her hair. “I resent our life. I’m tired of being poor and not seeing any hope in sight. I’m tired of eating what’s on sale, wearing what’s on sale, having to endure visits from counselors who think they have a right to judge how we live and invade our privacy, just because we’re poor. They can’t even leave me my secrets and dreams. Rich kids don’t have to live this way. That’s what I resent.”
Sadie wished she could curl up in a ball and hide. That’s not how it is, she wanted to protest. Only it was. It was exactly like that.
“Maybe you could put it out of your mind,” his mother suggested. “Maybe just not think about it.” She watched him hopefully, but Ford wasn’t seeing her.
Put it out of your mind rolled and echoed around his, picking up speed, becoming “People do things they don’t want to do when they lose their minds” and “The Pharmacist does that to people, one look and they lose their heads” and “I’m trying to keep you from losing your head too.” Bucky’s words from the other day.
It was as if an explosion went off in Ford’s head, making everything sharp and clear. This was what Bucky had been talking about, Sadie heard Ford thinking, losing your mind, not metaphorically but actually. This was how the Pharmacist manipulated Linc and everyone else. The Pharmacist didn’t have superpowers that bent people to his will; he had a chip implanted in their brains that allowed him to control their minds.
But that’s not how it works, Sadie objected. No one is using interperception or Syncopy to mind-control anyone—I can’t even get you to put the toilet seat down. Even if someone wanted to, they couldn’t, it only goes one way, only from you to me.
Ford’s mind slowed, drawing together into dots of color to show Bucky saying, “As long as the Roaches come around, you’re safe,” and the cool, musty scent of relief filled Sadie’s nose. If the Roaches were still checking up on him, she heard Ford think, there must not be anyone in his head. Which meant he still had time.