“I offer my sympathy for your pain,” he says, stiff and formal.
“You’re just a hologram.” I say it like a dare.
“Yes. Ultimately, I cannot solve your problems. Your future will always be controlled by your own choices. The answers must come from you.” I lift my eyes to him, the pieces of Dad stitched shoddily together with electrons and memory files. “Good-bye, until our next teaching session.”
And with that, Dad breaks into a brilliant flash of incandescence and leaves me, all by myself, to figure everything out.
All this time, with the poetry and the science—I’d been thinking that Dad never really knew me. Now I know the truth.
I have no idea who my father was.
THE NEXT DAY, I GO BACK TO the library ten times to activate the holoprof program, but nothing I say triggers Dad to come back. I start to wonder if I imagined the whole thing. Yet the memory of his words, telling me he loved me, was real. I know it was.
For the first time, I realize there’s a story here larger than just me, Dyl, and this house of misfits. But I can’t think of that now. I’m already drowning, trying to save one life. It kills me that I can’t conjure Dad up to help, but like he said, I’m on my own.
CHAPTER 16
THE NEXT DAY, TWO DAYS BEFORE MY date with Micah at the junkyards, I’ve got it all figured out. I stand outside of Marka’s lab, mentally rehearse the lines, and knock.
It slides open and Marka waves me inside. She’s organizing the scents in one of her glass cases. “How’s it going?” she asks.
“Great. I’ve got the extra gene sequences isolated, but I need a current gene database for comparison. You know, the usual Friday morning problems.” I chuckle too loudly. Forced lightheartedness is part of my plan, even if the smiles hurt my cheeks.
“Maybe one of our newer machines has it saved in the memory,” she suggests.
“I’ve looked. Wilbert can’t find one either.”
“Really?” Marka shuts the door and turns to focus all her attention on me. Oh crap. I’m careful not to get too nervous, because I’m sure she’ll sniff it on me. I start untangling my hair with my fingers to soothe my jitters. Marka watches me and waves me over.
“Let me do that.”
I obey her, wondering if she’s got a hair styling wand in her desk. Instead, she turns me around and starts running her fingers through my knots. She’s pretty gentle, considering how obnoxious my hair can be.
“I wish I had hair like yours,” she says wistfully.
“You’ve got to be kidding. You can have it!”
Marka laughs. “I used to have really long hair. I cut it short after I left my family, for a disguise. It’s horribly convenient.” As her fingers comb through my scalp and gently tug my locks, relaxation slowly oozes over me like warm maple syrup. I close my eyes.
“You know, horrible and convenient don’t usually go in a sentence together,” I say.
“I suppose not. There are luxuries of a normal life I miss. Little things. Like long hair, and walking outside without fear.” Marka’s finger-combing is making me drowsy. She pulls my shoulder toward her. “Here, lean against me, or you’ll fall over,” she says. I let my back touch her knees.
“So this is what’s it’s like,” I say.
“What?” she says, her hands tugging differently now. I think she’s braiding my hair now.
“Nothing.” I don’t want to say the mom word out loud. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be, to be honest. As she rummages for something to tie my braid down, I try to wake myself up from the comfort zone I’ve inadvertently entered. “So, the junkyards. I’m sure I could find a discarded chip with the database there.”
“I see.”
“I’m the only person in this place who’s worked in a lab with modern equipment. I’ll know what to look for. And anyway, I look pretty ordinary. I won’t call any attention to myself.”
She finishes tying my hair and gently spins me around. My whole scalp feels snugly tightened, and I have absurdly awesome peripheral vision. Marka bites her lip and leans against her folded hands. After an eternity, she shakes her head. “This isn’t worth a personal run. My answer is no.”
“But you guys go to the junkyards all the time! Vera told me.”
“We go judiciously and when we truly need something that can’t be traded by a service bot. I’ll put in a request. We might be able to get something in a few weeks.”
My disappointment is so huge, I can’t hide it. It sits in the room with both of us, suffocating all the good feeling.
“If Dad knew what was going on, he’d let me go.” I say it with enough hostility that Marka’s face blanches.
“You found his holo program, didn’t you?” Marka closes her eyes, as if she’s afraid to see my response.
“You knew about the embedded messages? Marka, why didn’t you tell me? Did you know he was working for Aureus too?”
Marka reluctantly nods. “I’m sorry, Zelia. I am. But when he set it up, he made it clear that you and Dyl were to find them on your own, when you were ready to ask the right questions.”
“When is everyone going to stop treating me like an infant?” I pump some extra breaths into me because I feel a little dizzy. I tend to hold my breath when I’m fantastically pissed off. “Not that it matters. Count on Dad to make it hard for me to talk to him. He was a master of that, you know.”
“He didn’t want to leave you with nothing.”
“Well, he did.” As soon as I say it, Marka looks visibly hurt.
“He’s not the only one who truly cares about you, Zelia. And you’re not the only one who misses him.”
In that second, a veil lifts between us and I see her emotions with clarity. She loved Dad. It’s so obvious. No wonder he kept coming back to Carus over and over again. No wonder he moved to Neia after Okks, instead of Dakota or Inky. It wasn’t just to teach Cy, or treat Vera’s vitamin deficiencies. Marka had a pull over him that outweighed spending time with his daughters. I’m really not ready to think of her and Dad like that, but luckily Marka’s face recedes into her usual serious self. I guess she’s not ready to discuss it either.
“Look,” I say, trying to stay reasonable. “I’ll be safe. I mean, the junkyard people are on our side. They’re not the government, so they won’t kill me, right?”
“I’m not just worried about you dying. There are other things I’m afraid of.”
“What could be worse than death?”
“Worse than death?” Marka’s eyes flash at me with untold secrets. “More things than I hope you’ll ever know.”
CHAPTER 17
IT’S SATURDAY. CRAP. I HAVE ONE DAY LEFT, and Marka won’t budge. That woman isn’t just tall, she’s got an iron will of stubbornness that’s too frustrating to be admired right now.
I have to let Micah know I can’t make it. I take the transport and stairs to the white dome of the stairwell, but the door to the agriplane is locked and glowing red. For the first time, I realize that red is an awfully irritating color.
“Oh shi—”
A crackly voice transmits near the door.
“Such language!” Wilbert snorts.
“Sorry. I just wanted to take a little walk.” I try to think of a good excuse that he’ll believe. “You know, get away from Cy. He’s been kind of . . .”
“. . . a cold fish? Harsh, cynical, and devoid of emotion?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, and yeah. Anyway, I’m still locked out. I just want a few minutes. Can you override the door? I’ll bring Callie back some, er, compost or something.” Man, that was the worst bargaining ever.