“First off,” he said, “if someone is crazy enough to dive into the mouth of a live megalodon—to let the ocean’s most horrifying monster eat them whole—then that’s a person I want on my team. The kind of person I need in order to make this revolution successful. Crazy people are, perhaps, the only individuals with enough bravery and foolishness to change the world. The meek might inherit the earth, but only after the fools have tamed it, transformed it, and made it their own.”
“The megalodon… that was nothing. I wasn’t even thinking.”
“And that’s a good thing,” Phoenix said. “Revolutions aren’t about thinking—they’re about instincts. A caterpillar doesn’t think about becoming a butterfly. It just trusts its instincts, and it does.”
“You’re the one,” said Bertha in a hushed voice. “The one we’ve been waiting for. The one we’ve been waiting for, for a long, long time. You’re the one who will save us all.” She grabbed my cheeks and bore her brown eyes into mine. “The one who will take back the world. You’re the one from the prophecy, Kai Bradbury. The boy the elders said would come!”
“There’s a prophecy?” The room was spinning. Everything got blurry. “This is… all part of a prophecy?”
Bertha broke into laughter. “Christ, Car Battery! You think I’d believe that bullshit?” She punched me in the shoulder. “I’m just screwing with ya. There’s no prophecy.”
My heart was still pounding. “Good thing we all promised to be honest with each other…”
She pointed a finger to Phoenix. “He promised you honesty; I didn’t. I’m gonna keep screwing with you until the day you die.”
I turned to Phoenix. “And when exactly will that be?”
He hesitated. “I—I thought we established I wasn’t trying to kill you…”
“I know,” I said, “but what comes next? When do I risk my life next? I mean, we’ve got the report, and we’ve got tons of Indigo. What’s next?”
Phoenix smiled. “Patience, grasshopper.”
Kindred poked her head into the basement. “Excuse me, dears!” She held a cake in her outstretched arms. “Cake here for Mr. Bradbury!”
“What?” I said. “What for?”
Kindred passed it to Bertha and climbed down the ladder. “Your birthday, dear. We never celebrated it properly.”
“Ah.” I smiled and glanced at the cake. “Let me guess… blueberry?”
“Heavens no!” Kindred looked disgusted. Bertha breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s strawberry.”
Bertha groaned.
Kindred passed me the cake. “Have a look, dear.”
Painted on a layer of white frosting was a crude picture of me and the Lost Boys, in a circle, holding hands. In red icing, someone had written, “HAPPY BIRTDAY, KAI!” and below that, “FAMILIE.”
Bertha shook her head. “Jesus, Dove…”
“Wow,” I said, still staring at the cake. “I—I don’t know what to say. Except thank you.” My eyes felt damp, and I wiped them with my hand. “It—it means a lot, guys.”
Kindred smiled. “We’ve got something else for you too, dear.”
Mila climbed down the ladder and passed me an envelope. “For you, Kai.”
Inside the envelope was a picture of my mom. Her black hair was pinned up, and her face was turned to the side. It was a mug shot, obviously, but it was still Mom. It was the only picture I had of her now. Kindred was right: I did get to see her again.
I sucked in a breath. “Wow.” I wanted to say thanks, but the word caught in my throat.
“I grabbed it from the desk when we were running from the cells,” said Mila. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did,” I said. “Thank you.” I glanced around the room. “Would this be a bad time for a group hug?”
Bertha started to grumble, but Phoenix shot her a look, and she nodded. “Bring it in, then, I guess.”
Something was missing.
“Where’s Dove and Sparky?” I asked.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR KAI-I!” their voices trailed in from above. They climbed down the ladder wearing red party hats decorated with pictures of cheeseburgers.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” they finished. Tim was hanging from Sparky’s neck, his arm still bandaged where he’d been shot. He, too, wore a party hat.
“Did we miss it?” said Dove.
Sparky glanced at Bertha’s red face and shook his head. “Negative.”
“JUST BRING IT IN ALREADY!”
We wrapped around our arms around each another, and Dove led another round of “Happy Birthday.” Bertha nursed the cake in the center, and Tim fought to sneak in occasional licks. The whole event was strange and bizarre and wonderful. The Lost Boys weren’t terrorists, anarchists, Indigo thieves, or even revolutionaries. Now, they were simply my friends.
In that moment, I felt oddly like Sage Penderbrook, standing there, marveling at something as simple as friendship. Somewhere in the midst of all their lies to me, and all my lies to them, we’d unearthed something impossible: the truth.
The world was changing—maybe it always had, and always would. There were more stars in the sky than photosynthetic bacteria in the ocean. There was more light than dark. There was truth and freedom, and the people of the Federation would soon know both.
Indigo was poison meant to keep people in invisible cages. But revolution was coming, and Phoenix was leading the way. A new republic would rise.
And the Federation would fall.
Chapter 47
The glass casing of the ConSynth hummed in my hands. Today, its red glowed brighter than ever before. Its countdown clock flashed 00:03. No longer was it signaling hours, but minutes. It would soon be fully calibrated.
Sage’s body twitched on the bed, and I rubbed my hand against her wrist. She fell still again. I massaged the wrinkles that lined her forehead, and her breathing steadied.
Soon I’d see Charlie. She’d be right here, in this room, like nothing had ever happened. My hands were already getting sort of sweaty.
A part of me wondered if the ConSynth would work. If we’d even hooked it up right. If synthetic consciousness was even possible…
But I’d seen Miranda Morier. I’d seen the way she moved. The way she spoke. The way she was very much alive. The ConSynth could work. It had to.
Still, had we done it right? Phoenix and Sage had hooked it up while I’d sat in a puddle of tears like Frosty the Melted Snowman. Was Charlie’s body supposed to have seized up like that? Like she was going into cardiac arrest?
I shook my head, trying to clear away the negative thoughts. I couldn’t think like this. It didn’t do any good. Phoenix and Sage did the best they could, and that was all I could’ve asked of them.
The clock flashed 00:02.
I’d told the others I wanted to be alone in the room when the time ran out—that I wanted alone time with her if it worked, or alone time with myself if it didn’t.
I’d slicked my hair back and worn one of Phoenix’s ties. He’d offered me a jacket too, but I passed. When I tried it on, I looked like a Girl Scout swimming in shoulder pads. I guessed it was yet another testament to his size and my pubescent blooming, or lack thereof.
Of course, Bertha said that fifteen years old was probably a bit late to be blooming. She said some flowers never bloomed, but just sat there on the vine as buds for a while before wilting.