Well, half of it comes into view.
Cy is sleeping there, propped against the doorjamb and obscuring the lower half of the closed door. I walk over and stoop down next to him. He must have put on some tattoos after breakfast, but they’re so faded now I can’t tell what images they were. He looks like he just rolled around in some ashes. His face is serene and relaxed. And beautiful.
I nudge his arm with my knuckles. Softly at first, then more firmly.
“Cy,” I say. He doesn’t flinch. I try a louder volume, but he’s really out. Too bad I have to do this.
I hit the button for the door, and it slides open. He falls with a clunk onto the floor. I think his skull actually bounced.
“Goddammit!” he curses, rubbing his head. “Why did you do that?”
“How else was I going to get in, with you barricading the way?”
“You could have asked.”
“I tried,” I say, squeezing by him and making my way to the closet inside. Any glamour I had from the club night is long gone. I’m exhausted and edgy from my lab work, which isn’t going as fast as I’d like. Now is not the time for any arguments with Cy. I shut the door and start undressing. I’ve got my shirt over my head when Cy slides the closet door open and walks in.
“Hey!” I protest.
“I’m not done.”
“Can you be ‘not done’ somewhere else?” I clutch my shirt to my chest, but it doesn’t hide my bare legs and underwear. “Get out!”
“No. I want to talk to you.” He’s wearing his hostility all over again, as if I’ve somehow insulted him between breakfast and now. “I want to know why you were with that piece of trash Kw.”
“Ugh. Fine. But turn around so I can change,” I warn him. Thankfully, Cy obliges me. I throw my shirt down and find one of Cy’s stolen shirts long enough to cover the top of my thighs. After I’m decently covered, I look up to see Cy’s reflection in the mirror by the closet wall. He’s been watching me the whole time.
“Arrggh! I told you not to look!”
“You told me to turn around. I obeyed you. I didn’t put that mirror there.”
I push past him, but he follows close behind.
“Answer my question.”
I sit on my bed, bunching up my bedcovers against my chest. As if that will remove the image of my half-naked body from his mind. It’s not going to work, but what the hell.
I take a breath. “I saw him at New Horizons. That’s all.”
“So, that’s enough of a history for you to be all over each other?”
“We weren’t all over each other.” I hear my voice rising defensively. “And you’re not my mother.”
“You need one. Kw is not someone you should look at, let alone talk to.”
“Why?”
Cy opens his mouth and closes it. “He doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”
“Why?”
“You have to trust me. He’s not good for you, or for your sister.”
“Look. I do really well with details. Proof. Data. Try me. I’m all ears.”
Cy squeezes his fists so hard that one of the tattoos on his wrist fades, like dust being whisked away by a breeze. “He works for them, you know.”
“Aureus? I know.”
“That should be enough to stop trusting him.”
“And?”
“And that’s all you need to know.”
I throw up my hands. What a waste of a conversation. “If you can’t be honest, you might as well go.”
“And you’re the queen of honesty? You’ve been talking to him and not telling anyone.” He must see the surprise on my face. “Yes, I know about those holo transmissions. Wilbert told me. It wasn’t hard to guess where they were coming from. You don’t trust any of us, and all we’ve done is given you a home and a family. You and your goddamn honesty, Zelia!”
“Home? Family? You’ve been as welcoming as a splinter since I stepped in this place! You don’t know what the word family means!”
Cy rushes right back and leans over me, one millimeter between us. The heat of his fury washes over my face and neck.
“You have no idea what you’re saying,” he seethes. He’s breathing so fast, so angrily, his chest nearly touches mine. “Ask yourself, Zel. What would make someone want you? Your face and a three-minute holo conversation? Is that enough for him to want to kiss you?”
“Shut up.” Tears blur my vision. I know I’m ugly. But for Cy to throw it at me like that? “So how much neurodrug did you snort before you could touch me, huh? I’m not worth kissing when you’re sober, right?” I spit back at him.
Cy pauses, his confidence disappearing.
“I thought so. Get out,” I say, my voice cracking. When he doesn’t move, I gather all my rage, my ugliness, my weakness, and shove him as hard as I can. Cy stumbles back, astonished. “Get out!” I scream.
He leaves without another word.
THE NEXT DAY, EACH MEMBER OF CARUS buries his or her guilt in work. Vera perfects her injectable plant organelles, sunbathing during her breaks. Hex pretends to research retinoic acid protocols but actually plays a one-man game with two basketballs in the holorec room. Wilbert constructs a new nanocircuit gel in the form of a gummy bear, which Callie promptly eats and subsequently gives her horrible diarrhea.
After all my failures, I’ve finally done it. Dyl’s DNA is finally isolated and copied. I almost cry at my success, but before I get too excited, I move on to the next step—comparing fragments of her DNA to mine. The results will take at least an hour. Cy won’t miss me. He’s been violently ignoring me all day anyway.
As I walk out of the lab, I feel so alone. Being unwanted is a solitary business, for sure. In my head, a whispered voice answers my unspoken dejection. It’s a girl’s voice. It sounds like Dyl, but it can’t be her. And I know it’s not my imagination.
Please.
Come to me.
Please.
To add to the bizarre voice, I feel the faint brush of a hand on my shirt, tugging insistently, like a tiny child trying to drag me forward.
That’s it. I must be going crazy. As soon as the word crazy hits my brain cells, a puzzle piece snaps into place.
Ana.
A few minutes later, I’m at Wilbert’s lab/pigsty. Callie is mercifully asleep in the corner of the ugly couch and Wilbert is disemboweling some other machine on the floor. He waves a hand covered in circuit gel. I wave back.
“Wilbert. I need some information.”
“What do you want to know?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I am the eyes and ears of this place, after all.”
“This is serious. I’m getting kind of freaked out.”
“’Bout what?”
“Ana. I think I’m going crazy. I think I can hear her thoughts. I think . . .” I swallow dryly, trying to push the words out. “I think she’s making me hallucinate.”
Wilbert puts his fingers to his lips. “Turn off room-com,” Wilbert orders. “Lock door.”
“Room-com deactivated,” a woman’s voice answers. The shiny door slides shut with a prompt click.
“Who are we keeping secrets from?” I ask. “Marka didn’t say her story was off limits.”
“Not Marka. Cy. He hates it when we talk about her, so we need to keep it quiet.” Wilbert vaporizes the gel off his hands in the sink and offers me a seat on the couch. “Ana,” Wilbert announces, “is our resident ghost.” He’s trying so hard to cover his grin. He really does love gossip.
“You don’t actually mean—”
“No, no. She’s flesh and blood. But we don’t see her, ever. She’s practically a myth.”