“That was Elusion streamlining the apparatus’s instructions into your subconscious,” my dad says. “It only takes a second.”
“This is amazing,” I say. “I wish I could have stuff streamlined into my head at school.”
My dad laughs and then gives me a playful wink. “Now remember, you can’t get hurt in the Escapes, okay? Just allow the program to guide you.”
“Got it,” I reply as he finishes snapping me in.
“You know how to work this?”
For once in my life, I feel no self-doubt. “Yes, I do.”
“Great, just wait for me to get set up with my—”
But I can’t wait. That electric feeling inside of me is rising with every passing second, so I have no choice but to run forward as fast as I can and . . . JUMP!
“Hell, yeaaaaaah!” I squeal with delight as the wind picks up the wings of the glider, causing me to soar high into the iris-colored sky. I lift my gaze toward the golden sun, relishing the warmth on my face as I expertly zigzag in and out of the clouds.
Soon I catch sight of Dad flying right next to me. He doesn’t look the slightest bit angry that I left him behind. In fact, he’s beaming with pride. Together we burst through pockets of mist and zoom over a long plain of grass filled with a rainbow of tall wildflowers twisting and bending in the direction of the wind.
“Race you to that mountain?” Dad’s brown eyes flash with excitement.
My heart beats faster as my thoughts start to lose their shape. I’m not concerned about the ticking clock on my wristband and how much time we have remaining in Elusion. I’m not worried about the awkwardness that might still be waiting for my father and me after we wake up from the trypnosis. There’s only one realization that’s firmly set in my mind.
Soon, Elusion will change the world and everyone’s lives as they know it.
Especially mine.
“Game on!” I laugh in reply, swinging my hang glider to the left as I charge ahead of my father and into the miraculous, digitally painted sunset.
ONE
FIVE MONTHS LATER
I’m packed in tightly among motionless bodies with barely any room to breathe. I tell myself to relax; I’m only going to be on the Traxx for a little while longer—fifteen minutes tops, if the Inner Sector express line doesn’t have any delays. I try to ignore the harsh chill coming through the vents of the air purification unit just above my seat. The cold bites at the skin on my bare legs.
An eerie silence hovers in the train as the hundred or so people crammed into the seats sit perfectly still—their heads bobbing to the side and their eyes covered by sleek one-size-fits-all visors. Apparently I’m the only one aware of the cold or the large clusters of synthetic oil refineries whizzing by at two hundred miles per hour outside my sludge-streaked window, the only one worrying about things, like whether or not I passed my chem exam this morning.
The rest of my fellow travelers are all someplace else—a world with no pain, no concerns, and no stress; an enchanting, make-believe world that exists solely in their minds.
I could Escape along with them if I wanted, but I haven’t been to Elusion since late December. Not even for a quick zip-trip, like these people are having.
Actually, I’m not sure I’ll ever use my Equip again.
The connecting car door slides open and a concession salesperson—a thin, gray-haired woman in a blue-and-red uniform—begins to make her way up the aisle. She’s carrying a medium-size square cooler, her eyes scanning for signs of life in this crowd of zonked-out Elusion users.
“Huh, you’re awake,” she says to me with surprise.
“Shocking, isn’t it?”
“Very. I’m so used to seeing everyone with their Equips.” The woman leans over, opening the top of the cooler to reveal an assortment of junk food and beverages. “It’s nice talking to someone for a change.”
But I don’t want to talk, especially about Elusion.
“See anything you’d like?” she asks.
I spy a pack of triple-flavor-shifting gum and my mouth waters almost instantly. “I’ll have one of those,” I say, pointing to a small box marked Citrus-Mint–Dark Chocolate.
“That’ll be fifteen credits,” she says.
I grab my bag and rifle through the contents to find my passcard. Even though my tablet is all I need to bring to school, I’ve managed to collect an impressive assortment of clutter—lip balm, mascara, a granola bar, dry shampoo, oil-blotting sheets. In an effort to hurry things up, I dump my bag out on my lap. Lately I’ve been so disorganized and distracted. I just can’t lose my passcard. If I don’t find it, I’ll probably get kicked off the train. I also won’t be able to buy anything, get into school, or unlock the front door at home. It’s the key to everything.
“I haven’t bought an Equip yet.” The salesperson carries on, oblivious to the fact that I’m becoming more flustered by the second. “But my grandkids can’t get enough of it. They’re always telling me about their adventures. My grandson said he went fishing last week and caught a three-hundred-pound tuna off the coast of New Zealand,” she says proudly. “My other grandkids live in DC and they’re so jealous. Can’t get Elusion there. At least not yet.”
Thank God, I finally find my passcard. Stupid thing was hiding under my O2 shield. “Here you go. Sorry.”
The woman takes the card and scans it, then hands back it to me, along with the pack of gum I just purchased. She also continues to ramble on like someone who hasn’t had a real conversation in months.
“That Patrick Simmons kid is going to be a zillionaire when the CIT approval comes through. I don’t want to even think about how old he was when he invented Elusion.”
“He didn’t invent it,” I correct her. “David Welch did.”
The woman raises a curious eyebrow. “Wait a minute. I think I heard about him on the news a while back. HyperSoar accident, right?”
I nod my head and avert my eyes. I avoid discussing my dad with my mother or Patrick as much as possible, so I’m sure as hell not going to turn all chatty with some stranger on the Traxx.
“What a way to go. Burning up in the atmosphere like that.” The saleswoman leans her upper arm against the headrest of a man sitting on the end of the opposite aisle and he doesn’t even flinch. “No pain, though. I’m sure that’s a comfort to his family.”
Oh God.
I dig my fingernails into my hand, hoping the sting and pressure in my palms will distract me.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
All of a sudden, the Traxx loses speed, causing everyone to lurch forward in their seats. I latch on to the armrests to steady myself as a robotic-sounding voice notifies passengers of a stalled turbotrain on the T line, the central connection for the entire transport system. The saleswoman mutters something about how awful all this construction is on the Traxx and curses some guy in charge of the expansion program before stalking away, leaving me alone as she moves down the aisle and into another car.