“But why—”
The room-com woman beeps at us. “You have a request to talk, from Cyrad.”
“Just a minute,” Wilbert replies. “Geez, it’s like he knows we’re talking about her! We better hurry up, before—”
“You have a second . . . correction, you have a third request from Cyrad,” the voice says.
“Okay, okay. So, why is she here?” I say, rolling my hand to speed up the Q & A.
“She’s Cy’s little sister. She and Micah went off on a junkyard run together, and—”
“WHAT? Micah used to live here?” I’m halfway screeching and choking the words out.
“Well, yeah. I mean, no one talks about it. Cy gets so pissed. Ana had run off, said she was sick of being stuck in Carus forever and Micah tried to stop her. Marka and Cy went nuts trying to track her down, but Cy wouldn’t leave the compound to go after her. Super-paranoid about being caught by Aureus, that one. He even hates going up to the agriplane.”
“But he went to Argent,” I say.
“Yeah, that was way weird.” Wilbert stares into space for a second, as if the whole space-time continuum was screwed by Cy’s anomalous behavior. “Anyway, before Micah could bring her back, Aureus snapped them both up. Four weeks later, Ana knocks on our front door, but she was totally bonkers. Marka ran some tests. She had some stroke in her frontal lobes or something. Been a nutcase ever since.”
“That’s what happened?”
“Yeah. But Aureus never let go of Micah. He’s like a servant there, a gopher.”
“Gopher?”
“You know, ‘go for this, go for that.’ Gets them stuff so they don’t have to risk getting caught. He blends in with the masses, unlike some of us.” Wilbert pats his extra head.
My mind is on overdrive trying to process this. “What’s his trait?”
“He’s got some electric eel thing going.” Wilbert picks up Callie and nuzzles with her. “Generates current in his skin. He used to shock me all the time when I first came here. Drove me crazy.”
“And Ana’s?”
“She sheds this sensory antigen—”
Bang. Someone’s pounded the door. Callie squeals and jumps out of Wilbert’s arms, ducking for cover.
“Wilbert! Open up!” Cy’s muffled yell comes from the other side.
“I’m—I’m covered in circuit gel! One sec!” He whispers so fast I hardly understand him. “Cy’s never forgiven himself for not going after her. Keeps trying to think up ways to cure her brain with neural transfers and stuff. It’s all he ever works on in the lab now. He keeps trying to track Aureus down and somehow ‘out’ them to the public, but they’re always one step ahead—”
“WILBERT!” Cy yells.
“Okay, okay!” he hollers back.
“I was never here!” I hiss, and jump behind a huge tower of broken processor units. I crouch down, well below the level of machinery in front of me.
“Unlock door and activate room-com,” Wilbert says, as calmly as possible.
I hear the door open and Cy’s footsteps entering.
“What the eff?” he says, irritated.
“What the nothing, I was in the middle of a delicate procedure.”
“Yeah, okay, if that’s what you want to call what you do with your pig.”
Speaking of pigs, Callie has snuck up behind me and is now enthusiastically sniffing my ass. “Get away!” I mouth at her, flapping my hands. She doesn’t go away, just keeps sniffing.
“Where’s the pig-rat, anyway?” Cy asks.
“You know Callie, probably found some new toy.” I hear Wilbert cleaning his hands off in the vaporizer sink for a second time. “Speaking of new toys, what do you think of Zelia?”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Is Wilbert trying to make me choke and reveal myself?
“Oh. Her.” Cy’s voice grows colder.
“She’s pretty smart.”
I smile. I really like Wilbert.
Cy snorts. “She’s sloppy in her lab work and pathologically nosy.”
I frown and give Cy the finger behind my tower. Callie looks at me sympathetically, if a pig could do such a thing.
“She’s cute anyway,” Wilbert says, rebounding.
“Whatever,” Cy says, flustered. “Anyway, did you finish that test yet? I didn’t come here to discuss societal rejects.”
“Like us?” Wilbert adds, snickering.
“Shut it, Wilbert.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, scared. I hear him scrambling around his stuff.
They start murmuring about cross-hemispheric neuronal transfers and nano-biogels, and I lose the thread of discussion. After forever, Cy leaves and Wilbert locks the door again.
I pop up from behind my wall of broken electronics and grunt, shaking out my cramped legs.
Wilbert shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry. I actually thought he had a crush on you.”
“Ha.”
“No, really! He stares at you all the time. Haven’t you noticed?”
“I repeat: Ha.”
Callie runs from behind the equipment and Wilbert scoops her up and kisses her affectionately. Callie licks both his skulls and I have to hold the stomach acid down. Anyway, it’s time to get back to the lab.
“Thanks, Wilbert.”
“Sure thing. Oh, and remember. Lock your door at night. Ana tends to wander around after hours. She’s not exactly, er, stable, so I wouldn’t go into her room either.”
“Yeah, too late for that.”
THAT NIGHT, I LIE IN BED.
Freaking out.
Will Dyl end up like Ana? Is Dyl already hurt beyond repair?
Ana’s been shoved down to the nonexistent floor of Carus. No one visits her. They pretend she doesn’t exist. I jump out of bed and pad out the door and into the hallway. Time for insomniacs to unite.
“Where is Ana’s room again?”
“Go left, three flights down. Seventh door on the right.”
Bits of trash, torn clothing, and doll amputees increase in density on the floor as I approach her room.
I pause, then press the button and walk in. I recognize the huge canvases with their dismembered body parts and miniscule, painted babies. Today, the streaks on the wall are clearly pain, and the ruined chair is almost comfortingly familiar.
More broken things are strewn over the floor. I pick up a few books, covers missing and their spines ready to crack from age. I know those novels and their themes—suicide, heartbreak, psychological torture. My, Ana has dark taste. Brown apple cores with dry, curled skins are piled like a cairn next to a stack of dirty dishes.
Against a corner of the wall is a mattress covered with a mound of blankets in a swirling mess. Next to the paintings, more books litter the floor. I wonder why she doesn’t just read off her holo, like most people would. Then again, Dyl had her book too. I hadn’t understood her either.
“I have so much to learn,” I murmur to myself.
“Me too.”
I jump inside my skin, suppressing a shriek. I can’t see her anywhere. The lavender light emerging from the bottom of the walls doesn’t illuminate anything but the mess on the floor. The ceiling stays dark, like a starless night.
“Where . . . where are you?” I whisper.
“Heeeeere, sister.” Her inflections are innocent, like a child’s, but the tone has a silky depth to it, like a young woman’s. My heart softens at her words, though I’ve done nothing to earn the title from her.
Sister. A word steeped in blood and genes and tethered hopes.
“Here I am,” she whispers again. Something must be wrong with my ears. I can hear her, but am totally unable to locate the direction. It doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the wall-coms either.
“Ana.” I turn around slowly, not knowing where I should address my words. Hoping that nothing sharp or dangerous is heading my way. “How are you?”