When she looked at it more closely, she saw there were four round holes in it, right over the figure’s heart.
“They’re bullet holes,” Curtis Pinter’s voice said from just behind her. “Most people don’t notice.” He came and stood next to her. “It’s nice to see you again, Sadie.”
“You too, Mr. Pinter.”
“Call me Curtis,” he suggested. “I want you to feel relaxed around me.”
There’s little chance of that, Sadie thought as her cheeks flushed. “Curtis, then.” He was looking at her as if he was genuinely interested in what she had to say, but she found her mind had gone completely blank. Finally, unable to think of anything smart to say, she stammered, “How did the bullet holes get there?”
“It happened almost twenty years ago. After Miranda’s first major philanthropic project—”
“The Perfect Garden,” Sadie broke in, trying to look like less of a moron.
“I see someone overprepared for their interview.”
Sadie’s cheeks flamed. “I—I just didn’t want to miss anything.” She found herself strangely aware of his proximity. Forcing her attention away from the spicy citrus scent of his cologne, she recalled details from the articles she’d read. “The Perfect Garden was a home for underprivileged orphans, wasn’t it? But there was some controversy around it.”
“Gold star to Miss Ames.” Curtis nodded. “Miranda swore she could take children no one wanted and educate them in such a way that each of them would become a success. The curriculum was basically an intensive study of Shakespeare and weapons training. And it worked. They were creative, aggressive, and disciplined. Every student in the first class—the only class to graduate—had made at least a million dollars by the time they were twenty-four.”
“That’s amazing,” Sadie said reverently.
“Yes. Unfortunately, a few of them turned the same traits toward less-than-legal pursuits—and excelled at those as well. A state commission was convened and ruled that Miranda had perverted the natures of those in her care by pumping up their drive to succeed and giving them the skills to be excellent criminals.”
Sadie frowned. “But they were the same drive and skills that made them successful.”
“Exactly what Miranda told the commissioners.” Curtis grinned at her, and she found herself thinking how nice his teeth were. “With a few mentions about looking at themselves in the mirror. None of which went over well, and the state ordered the program shut down immediately. Miranda was furious, of course. The head of the commission reminded her of Judge Monty, so…” Curtis cocked his finger into a gun and aimed it at the painting.
Sadie gaped at him. “Ms. Roque shot the painting?”
Curtis laughed. “Not what you’d expect, is it?”
“No.” Sadie shook her head slowly. “But that just makes her seem even more wonderful.”
“Wonderful or dangerous,” Curtis said. His eyes sought Sadie’s, and held them. “Of course,” he went on, his voice low, intimate, “the two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
There was an intensity to his gaze that made Sadie’s pulse jump and gave her the feeling of playing out of her league. “No?” she breathed, unable to move her eyes from his.
“No,” he said. A twinkle appeared in his eyes, and his lips curved into a sly smile. “After all, Miranda is a very good shot.”
In her most earnest tone she said to Curtis, “Statistically, Miranda being a good shot makes her less dangerous.”
Curtis glanced at her quickly and laughed when he realized she was joking. “Too true.”
He gestured her around a corner into a wider corridor where the rest of the Fellows were gathered. One wall was lined with offices; the other was made of panels of frosted glass. Curtis excused himself, and Sadie rejoined the group clustered around Catrina.
Catrina was standing with her back to the frosted glass, saying, “The technology that enables interperception—the ability of individuals to see inside one another’s minds—has been in existence and use for nearly three decades,” she said, “but it was restricted, uncomfortable, and hard to control. Until six years ago, when scientists here made a stunning breakthrough.”
As she spoke, the entire wall of glass behind her sank into the floor, revealing a massive oval chamber with a vaulted ceiling. Radiating out from the center of the oval were four concentric widening circles of what looked like bathtubs, each with a number from one to thirty. A thick shank of cables and wires was coiled inside of each of them. Lab technicians in spotless cream-colored coats moved silently along the perimeter, like acolytes of a very modern cult.
“Six years ago we invented stasis,” Catrina said, leading them into the room. She stepped toward one of the tubs, her face showing its first hint of emotion as she patted the tub lovingly. “This changed everything. It’s officially known as the DCSS3 Dynamic Corporeal Suspension System, but around here we call it the Stas-Case. Take a good look at it, because it will be your home for six weeks.”
The Fellows all pressed closer, glancing shyly into the vessels, everyone apparently apprehensive to touch too much, as though the tubs were alive. Sadie wondered if anyone else was unnerved by the thought of lying there for six weeks surrounded by twenty-nine other motionless bodies.
Catrina’s voice broke the eerie silence. “Curtis gave you the philosophical overview, but I’ve been tasked with explaining the science behind what we do here, and I’m going to start at the beginning so there’s no confusion.” She pointed a finger in a semicircle at the group. “You are Minders. That means you enter stasis and go into the mind of another person. That person is called your Subject. Sometime between birth and the age of thirteen, a neuronano relay was placed at the base of your Subject’s skull, where it meets the spinal cord. This is the gateway to the brain, and every thought or action originates here as a set of bioelectrical impulses. The microscopic relay collects and forwards all that brain activity in real time. Using sensors, that activity is mirrored onto your mind, letting you experience it exactly the way the Subject does. That is called interperception.”
Sadie was so entranced she had to remind herself to breathe.
“If you’d done that fifteen years ago, you wouldn’t have been able to keep both your thoughts and your Subject’s in your mind at once during interperception. Theirs would have overridden yours, which means any kind of research or evaluation could only have happened later. But stasis changes that.” Catrina’s eyes lit up. “By freeing the mind from responsibility for your body, stasis increases your mental capacity enough so that all those impulses can be mirrored onto your brain with adequate space left over for your normal thought processes to occur simultaneously. You can not only observe, you can evaluate, and because you can remain in stasis safely for a long time, you can keep an uninterrupted link with your Subject for an extended period. Thus Syncopy—extended, conscious sessions of interperception—was born. We have only begun to explore the implications of this incredible process, but I’m among those who think it will be hailed as the most significant advance in a century.”
A boy with dark hair spiked straight up said, “Have you ever been a Subject?”
Catrina shook her head. “To be a Subject you must have a neuronano transmitter implanted. But Minders can’t have transmitters because they interfere with the ability to enter Syncopy. So you can either be a Subject or a Minder, but not both.”
“Has anyone ever died during Syncopy?” the girl with the tight bun asked.
Catrina frowned, as though the question was in poor taste, then said, “No Minder has ever died.”