“I didn’t say that.”
“Yeah, but you thought it,” he said. “Everyone does. And so all those credit-free people just end up in a corp-town or a city, and no one really cares, because that’s just the way it is.”
“But that is the way it is,” I said, confused. “And they don’t care, so why should you?”
“How do you know they don’t care? Do you actually know anyone who lives in a corp-town? Have you ever been to a city?”
“Have you?” I countered.
I could tell from the look on his face that he hadn’t.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said instead of answering.
“Then stop insulting me!”
“I wasn’t—Look, I’m just saying, things weren’t always the way they are now. But people act like they were. Like the past doesn’t matter, because everything’s always been the same. And like it should always be the same.”
I didn’t want to fight either. “So that’s why you wear glasses? To change the world.”
He took them off. His eyes were bright green, like his father’s. “No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t just wear them because I like old stuff. I actually… I need them.”
“No one needs glasses anymore.”
“Trust me.” He squinted at me. “Without them, I can barely tell whether your eyes are open or shut.”
“I don’t get it. Why not get your eyes fixed?”
“I don’t know. I guess wearing them reminds me of my mom. Like it’s what she would have wanted.”
That was… I didn’t want to think it, but that was sick. “What if you got sick or something?” I asked. “Would you not do anything about that? Would your mother want you to—” Die, I was going to say. But I didn’t. Because for all I knew, that’s what had happened to her. “—just stay sick?”
“Of course not! I’m not crazy. It’s just this one thing. Just the eyes,” he said. “So, I guess you think it’s pretty weird.”
“Well…” I had the feeling he didn’t want me to lie. “Yeah. Very. But maybe I get it. A little.”
“I should go,” he said, opening the car door.
“Where? Your father said…”
“Yeah. I know what he said. But it’s my house, too. And”—he shrugged—“not like I have anywhere else to be.”
I probably should have stayed—or invited him to come with me. But I was supposed to be home for dinner, and I couldn’t picture bringing him along. Meals were bad enough without a stranger at the table, watching us not speak to one another.
I let him out of the car. “Good luck,” I said, even though he was just going home.
“You too.” Even though I was doing the same.
I saw Auden at school after that, but we didn’t talk much, not like before. Not that I was avoiding him or anything. We just… didn’t. Talk. And there were no more “experiments.”
Then a few nights later, I came home, linked in, and: ACCOUNT TERMINATED.
That was it. Two words flashing red across a blank screen. They linked to a text from Connexion, the corp that carried my zone.
A determination has been made that the owner of this account, Lia Kahn, is for all intents and purposes deceased. Although Connexion acknowledges that the entity now designated as “Lia Kahn” retains legal rights to the identity under current law, the corporation has been afforded a wide latitude in this matter. As of today we will no longer extend continuing access to recipients of the download process. As per standard protocol in cases of the deceased, when the next of kin has made no request for continuing access, the account of Lia Kahn has been deleted. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. Have a nice day!
It was gone. All of it. My pics, my vids, my music, every voice and text I’d ever received or sent, every mood I’d recorded, everything I’d bought, read, watched, heard, played, all gone. Any evidence of the friends I’d had or the relationship I’d walked away from. Gone. The av I’d hidden behind since before I was old enough to pronounce the word. Gone. Proof that Lia Kahn had ever lived—still lived. Gone.
Terminated.
I panicked.
Which I guess is why I didn’t scream for my father, who could probably have voiced someone at Connexion and bullied them into giving back what they’d stolen from me. I just linked into a public zone, I voiced Auden, and I told him I needed him.
Then I sat on the edge of my bed, waiting, wondering what I’d been thinking, and whether he would come and what good it would do if he did, and whether I should voice him again and tell him to forget it. And I tried not to think about how my entire life had been deleted.
Psycho Susskind nudged his head against my thigh, then started licking my hand. He rolled over, and I rubbed my fingers along his belly, knowing he would pretend to enjoy it for a minute, then twist around and snap at me, tiny fangs closing down on the heel of my hand. He did, and I let him. “Think I liked it better when you hated me, Sussie.” But I scratched him behind his ears, and I let him curl up on my lap.
Auden showed up. Zo let him in, which was lucky, because it meant no explaining. She didn’t talk to me any more than she had to, which worked for me. So Auden was alone when he stepped into my room, hesitantly, with that look on his face that guys get when they think you’re going to cry.
Even though he knew I couldn’t cry.
“It’s all gone,” I said, even though I’d already told him. “They wiped me.”
“It’s just your zone.” He stayed in the doorway, his eyes darting around the room, like he was trying to memorize everything in case the lights suddenly failed—or in case he never got to come back.
“It’s my life. And you know it.”
If I could cry, that’s when I would have done it. But instead I hunched over and covered my face with my hands. He sat down next to me, his hands clasped in his lap, like he was afraid of touching me. He’d done it before, but maybe that was why he didn’t want to do it again. Who wanted to touch the dead girl?
“It could be worse, Lia.”
“Is that supposed to be helpful?”
“No, I just mean…” He turned red. “I meant that this is bigger than just losing your zone, and maybe you’re lucky that’s all it was. Connexion’s not the only corp that’s trying this. I read there was this one guy who almost lost all his credit when—”
“I don’t give a shit about some guy!” I exploded. “This is about me!”
Even I knew how hateful that sounded. But I couldn’t take it back.
“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.
“I’m pretty sure I just told you.”
“There’s something else, right? More than just the zone?”
“Like that’s not enough?”
And here’s the thing. That was enough. Maybe it was a little shallow to feel like my whole life was wrapped up in my zone, but that’s how I felt. The network was the only place where I could pretend I was normal. Hidden behind my av, no one would guess what I really was. Losing it all like that, without warning? It was enough to be upset about.
Except that maybe he was right. There was more.
“Come on,” he said. “What?”
“It’s just… They said they terminated the account because I was dead. I mean, because Lia Kahn was dead, and I was… something else.” I held my hand up in front of my face. It was so strange, the way I could hold it like that, without trembling, for hours. And I knew I could: We’d done an experiment. “I didn’t tell you”—I hadn’t told anyone—“but this guy was here. A while ago. This guy named Rai Savona.”
“Such an asshole.”