“My brains take turns sleeping. It’s like having two lives in one. This one”—he taps his normal head—“is asleep now. I’m dreaming of cupcakes. Cy’s wearing a flowered apron. Heh.” He stares off into the cornerless room, and makes a face. “Ugh. Lima bean cupcakes with bloody needles stuck in them. Gross. Count on Cy to ruin a perfectly nice dream.” Wilbert finally remembers I’m sitting here, openmouthed. “So now I’m using my consciousness from this guy.” He touches the faceless lump. “There’s a network of duplicate nerves from each brain to my spinal cord and cranial nerves. It’s awesome. I get so much work done.”
“Wow. So . . . doesn’t your body get tired?”
“Sure. I can’t be running marathons twenty-four hours a day. Sometimes my body conks out, and I just read or watch movies when that happens.”
I nod with tepid enthusiasm, but inside it freaks me out. To be awake twenty-four hours a day, obsessing about everything screwed up in my life? No thanks.
“Anyway, here’s the layout of the building. Top floor is the infirmary, Cy’s lab, and his room.”
I perk up. “Cy has a lab? What kind?”
“Didn’t he show you? He was supposed to give you a tour of the labs.”
The words I’m not your cruise director replay in my brain. What a jerk.
“We each have our own lab. It’s part of the deal here. Everyone researches his or her own gift. I guess you’ll get a freebie here. Lucky.”
“Thanks,” I say, but I don’t feel lucky. The one time I could have my own lab and I don’t need it. Unless . . .
“Oh!” I peep loudly, then cover my mouth. Wilbert jumps.
“Are you okay?”
I hardly hear him. All I can think of is Dyl’s trait. With a lab, I could figure out what trait she has, a real step closer to figuring out how to get her back. But as soon as I consider it, Dad’s words slice into my consciousness.
No more labwork.
Don’t start something where failure is likely.
He’s right. I have no clue what I’m doing. Dyl’s trait might be the only thing I can grasp—the only solid step in any direction besides doing nothing—but I have zero idea where that step will lead me. What’s worse, Aureus is a monstrous opponent, and I’m just, well, me. I’m completely blind to the end of this plan.
And I’m afraid.
I inhale deeply. Dad’s not here anymore. If I could make him come back and solve my problems, I would. But I can’t reverse death. It’s one of countless things I can’t do. But maybe, maybe I can do this one thing. I silence his naysayer voice in my head.
“So. Wilbert. Tell me about these labs. I want to know everything.”
Wilbert widens his eyes at my sudden enthusiasm. “Okay, well. My lab’s on the first floor, near the kitchen. Hex’s and Vera’s are on the third floor. Although, Hex hardly uses his and Vera’s on the agriplane half the time. All our food comes from her farm there. Tastes like horse food, but it does the job. Junkyard runs for lab equipment are strictly scheduled, depending on how much bribe money we’ve got.”
I’m barely paying attention, being too engrossed in wondering where I’ll get DNA samples from Dyl. Wilbert starts talking about school, when I realize he just asked me a question.
“Huh?”
“I said, which classes are you taking right now?”
School couldn’t be farther from my mind right now. “What? Oh. The usual senior year stuff. I’m sorry, so where do I take classes?”
“Here.” Wilbert grabs the holographic building, spins it around in a glowing blur, and magnifies some rooms on the second level of Carus. He hooks a room with his finger and turns it around so I can get a 360-degree view. My stomach lurches. I could use some No-PuK right now.
“Ugh. Wilbert, can’t you just show me in person? Like a real tour?”
“Sure. C’mon.” He leads me out of the room and down the curving hallway.
“Just promise me we don’t have to do PE,” I say
“Uh. You’ll have to talk to Hex about that.”
Outstanding. After all this, I still have to deal with PE?
After a loopy ride in a transport, Wilbert ushers me to an oak-paneled door, the kind you’d find at a university library. He pushes it open.
A middle-aged man with graying hair, khaki slacks, and a brown sweater gets up from a gigantic central table to greet us.
I grab the door frame, gasping.
“Hello. And what are we learning today?”
It’s Dad.
CHAPTER 7
DAD DOESN’T REACT TO MY EARTHQUAKE-SIZED panic attack. Wilbert looks at me, then my dad, and slaps one of his two heads.
“Oh crap, crap, I’m sorry! Quit holoprof program!” he barks.
“Study hard. Good-bye!” Dad chirps pleasantly. His body shimmers and vanishes in seconds, and I cry out in pain. It takes all my power to not reach out and grab the leftover photons sparkling in front of me.
“What the heck was that about? Are you trying to make me psychotic?” I say, my whole body still quivering. I turn away so Wilbert won’t see me wipe my eyes.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. That was Cy’s medical education program, he must have forgotten to disengage the avatar.” Wilbert peers around the room to make sure it’s really empty. “Our texts are downloaded into our holoprof program and combined with a basic teaching personality. We each pick a physical shell as our professors. It’s like having a personal tutor.”
“And why is my dad one of them?” I ask. I know it wasn’t him, but seeing his kind eyes looking rested and peaceful for once—it’s worse than a nightmare because he was there. Right there. I walk toward the wall of bookshelves, trying to shake off the feeling. I try to pull out Pride and Prejudice, but the book’s spine ripples like water under my fingertips. I guess the whole library is a hologram.
“He was teaching Cy medical stuff, on and off, in real life. It made sense at the time to model the holoprof after your dad. He even helped Cy with the programming. Here, why don’t you meet the others. You can make up one for yourself later.” Wilbert turns to the room. “Bring out the other holoprofs, please.”
I prepare myself for the worst. Elvis, maybe, or even Dyl. Thankfully, a handsome young Asian guy with a muscular build materializes and steps forward, loosely draped in a kimono.
“I am Joseph. I teach Advanced Yoga and Chakra-Centered Meditation, Paleobotany, Plant Genetics, Ancient and Contemporary Agriculture, Soil Chemistry, Composting Level Five—”
Wilbert cuts him off. “Vera’s holoprof.” I nod. Joseph resembles Hex, but without the extra arms.
The second holoprof comes forward, an elderly lady with a tight mouth and pinchy eyes. “I am Professor Steele. I teach Regenerative Physiology.”
I wait for her to list more subjects, but she keeps her wrinkled lips pressed together.
“Why only one?” I ask.
“My student continues to fail my course,” she says acidly.
“Hex’s teacher,” Wilbert whispers.
“Ah.”
The last professor is a young woman dressed in a sophisticated black turtleneck, pencil skirt, and sling-back heels. She’s definitely got the sexy librarian thing down. My eyebrows come together because of her familiarity. Petite, dark eyes, and curly hair the color of espresso, neatly pulled into a chignon. She looks serious and her face is nothing out of the ordinary, but there’s something about her. She’s graceful, just standing there, and there’s strength in her brown eyes.
“Hey,” Wilbert exclaims. “Professor Weisberger looks like you!”
My doppelgänger steps forward and smiles. “Hello. I am Professor Weisberger. I teach Neural Transfer Theory, Level Four Tissue Culture Technique, Advanced Plasmid Vectors, and Human Genetics Level Five.” Her voice is higher than mine, more girlish. Compared to me and my ripped, dirt-and-blood-infused shirt and leggings, she’s a stunner.