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“No.” He sounded disappointed. “Sal said his brother might get mad if he brought over a bunch of people without telling him first. Maybe this Saturday. Are you coming into town? I told him you really like trannies, too. Man, I hope someday I can afford a Sonic or a Janji.”

I laughed out loud. Once Derek got started on personal transits, he could talk for hours. “Sonics are okay, but I really want a Lacodian mini, they’re so cute.”

“Girly trannie.”

“Hey, I’ve gotta get back to Dee. Ginnie’s gone and we’re doing sister stuff. See ya.”

I rejoined Dee.

“I left you some fries,” she said. “I’ve gotta watch my figure.”

“Figure?” I laughed. “The only figure you have is like this.” I drew a straight up-and-down line in the air.

“Do not!”

“Do, too.” I tossed a throw pillow from the couch at her. She caught it and threw it back at me.

In no time we were wrestling around on the floor like a couple of kids. It felt good to play. Much better than angsting over what Derek was thinking. I didn’t want to deal with him trying to be romantic, or interested in me.

We were up to episode four, where Arriane confronts a bully at summer camp, when my PAV beeped again.

I hopped over the pillows we’d thrown on the floor. “Hey there.” I was sure it was Sandy.

“Nina Oberon?” a female voice asked.

“Yes.” I didn’t recognize the voice, so I grabbed my PAV receiver from the table to see who was calling.

“This is Officer Jelneck, Cementville police.”

IX

I clicked on the tiny video screen, I could see red hair sticking out from under her black-and-white-checked hatband. Her lips were pressed into a hard line.

My first thought was that it had to do with the foray. But the police in Gran’s building had let us go. Sal. Maybe he really was homeless—maybe I was in trouble for helping him out. “Yes, ma’am?” I couldn’t keep my voice from trembling.

“I’m almost to your house. I need to talk with you.”

Now I was shaking all over. “Have I done something wrong?”

Her tone changed from terse to sympathetic. “No.”

And then it hit me—bad news. Ginnie. “What’s happened?”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than there was a buzz at the door. I let Officer Jelneck in.

She told me about the attack. How Ginnie had been stabbed and left for dead in an alley. Like sleet bouncing off the sidewalk, her words weren’t connecting to my brain. It couldn’t be. Ginnie was always all right.

“We must get you two to the hospital,” she insisted. “There’s no time to waste.”

“Nina? What’s going on?” Dee came up behind me.

Office Jelneck started to speak, but I held up my hand. Putting my arm around Dee, I said, “Mom needs us. Get your jacket.”

Dee’s lower lip started to quiver. I pulled her close. “It’s going to be fine, DeeDee. Go get your jacket, okay?”

She raced down the hall.

I looked at the policewoman. “She’ll know what’s happened soon enough.”

Officer Jelneck transported us to Cementville Hospital, the largest, state-of-the-art hospital in the Midwest. We were whisked to the Trauma Wing in an area marked “Restricted.” There were armed guards stationed at the entrance doors. Through a window I could see Ginnie immobile, inside a machine of some kind.

“What’s that?” I asked the guard who was escorting us.

“Infinity machine.” His voice, his whole manner, was as emotionless as a bot. He could’ve been one, except I’d seen him take a drink of water before he brought us here.

An Infinity machine. Ginnie was just a tier-two cashier. Why would they put her in an Infinity machine? They were only used in special cases and only for top-tier people. I would’ve asked the guard, but he was busy talking into his PAV.

I didn’t know how the Infinity machine circumvented death, but it did, at least for a little while. There were only twelve such machines in the world. Situated near large metro areas, they were under strict government regulations and security. There were armed guards everywhere on the floor, not only at the entrance. Ginnie’d always said this technology was dangerous, especially in the wrong hands, and should be outlawed. I was glad it hadn’t been.

I peeked back in the window. Monitor lights strobed above Ginnie and tubes and wires snaked everywhere. Blinking hard, I turned away. Through my tears, I saw a man getting into the elport, talking with a nurse. She exited right before the door slid shut, and hurried past me into Ginnie’s room. I stood staring at the closed elport, then glanced back at Ginnie.

Ed.

I didn’t want him anywhere near her, not now, not ever again. After all the times he’d beat her… what if he’d had something to do with this attack? He was capable of murder, I was sure of it. Cold hate seeped into my veins.

A doctor came by to talk to me and Dee, and I turned my attention away from the elport. Her soft eyes and no-nonsense manner reminded me of Gran. She assured me that Ginnie wasn’t in any pain and then explained the rules about the Infinity machine.

Her voice was gentle, but the words were harsh. “You can talk with your mother for ten minutes; that’s five minutes per family member. You can touch her face and head, but be very careful not to touch any of the equipment. When nine minutes is up, a buzzer will sound and I’ll come in; a minute later the machine will be turned off.”

I pointed to the room. “Why is she here? We’re not top tier.”

The doctor shook her head. “The government doesn’t tell me their reasons.”

It didn’t matter. At least Ginnie was still alive and we could see her. I hugged my arm tight around Dee and we entered the room. My stomach knotted—it felt as if I’d entered my own execution chamber.

Ginnie’s bandaged head stuck out of the aluminoid cylinder that encased her body. A nurse stood nearby, adjusting dials on a control panel.

“Mom,” I whispered, edging closer to the Infinity. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” She turned her head slightly in my direction. Her lips weren’t moving, her eyes were sightless. The voice was hollow and metallic, not at all her—a reproduction from her thoughts. It was a sound I was sure I would never forget. “Guess I won’t be home early, will I?” Her sense of humor was still there, but it wasn’t funny.

“Mom.” Dee’s voice quavered and tears were pouring down her cheeks. “You can’t die!” She wrenched away from me and ran to Ginnie. She tried to touch our mother, but was too short to reach. The nurse pulled a small stool out from under the machine and Dee scrambled up on it. She patted Ginnie’s face and kissed her cheek again and again, crying the whole time.

“Oh, DeeDee, sweetheart, Nina will take care of you.”

“Mom!” Dee stroked the bandages frantically. “You can’t leave. I love you. You can’t die.”

“DeeDee,” the tinny voice said, “you have to be strong. I raised you girls to be strong. You and Nina will have to take care of each other now. Understand?”

Dee nodded, gulping back her tears.

Ginnie sighed deeply. It rattled through the cylinder, and I wondered how the doctor knew for sure that she wasn’t hurting.

“DeeDee, honey, go outside for a minute, I need to talk to Nina alone.”

The nurse led a sobbing Dee out of the room. When the door closed behind them, Ginnie asked, “Are they gone?”

I glanced around. “Yes.”

“Come close.”

I scooted up to her head. “I’m right here, Mom.” Since I’d turned twelve, I’d always called her Ginnie. It was not cool to call your parents Mom or Dad. Now I wished that was all I’d ever called her. Caressing her face, I moved aside the hairs that clung to her forehead.