The Mind Virus Read online

  CONTENTS

  Epigraph

  Part One 1. Ree

  2. Skylar

  3. Ree

  4. Skylar

  5. Skylar

  6. Ree

  7. Skylar

  8. Skylar

  9. Ree

  10. Skylar

  11. Ree

  12. Skylar

  Part Two 13. Kit

  14. Skylar

  15. Skylar

  16. Ree

  17. Skylar

  18. Lacy

  19. Skylar

  20. Skylar

  21. Ree

  22. Skylar

  23. Skylar

  24. Ree

  25. Skylar

  26. Rain

  27. Skylar

  28. Ree

  29. Skylar

  30. Skylar

  31. Lacy

  32. Ree

  33. Skylar

  34. Lacy

  35. Skylar

  Part Three 36. Skylar

  37. Ree

  38. Skylar

  39. Ree

  40. Lacy

  41. Skylar

  42. Skylar

  43. Lacy

  44. Skylar

  Part Four 45. Skylar

  46. Skylar

  Epilogue

  Skylar

  Back Ads

  About the Author

  Books by Donna Freitas

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  EPIGRAPH

  Let us pass, then, to the attributes of the soul . . . if it be true that I have no body, it is true likewise that I am capable neither of walking nor of being nourished . . . Thinking is another attribute of the soul; and here I discover what properly belongs to myself. This alone is inseparable from me. I am—I exist: this is certain; but how often? As often as I think; for perhaps it would even happen, if I should wholly cease to think, that I should at the same time altogether cease to be . . .

  —René Descartes,

  “Of the Nature of the Human Mind;

  and That It Is More Easily Known Than the Body,”

  Meditations on First Philosophy (1641)

  PART ONE

  1

  Ree

  virtual mortality

  “A LIFE ON the Apps is the only life for me.”

  That’s what Char kept saying, over and over, ever since that chick Skylar had given her emergency broadcast. Char was lying on her back in the grass of Main Park, staring up at the Night Sky 3.0. This one featured the Southern Cross, and it sparkled above us like a shining sword. Honestly, I preferred Night Sky 5.0, because Orion is more my thing.

  It was a beautiful evening, regardless, like all evenings here.

  Same as usual, in other words. Blah, blah, blah.

  The only difference: this evening was the day after half the City had unplugged. Half the people we knew in this world were—poof!—gone.

  “Like, who cares about a clunky chunk of flesh when I have the entire virtual world at my fingertips?” Char was laughing, her voice alternately a shriek and a cackle, sounding like she’d downloaded one of those Wicked Witch Apps when on the outside she was all Betty Boop and Pinup Girl, her plump, red, heart-shaped lips all pouty and pursed. “Can you believe that Harry left? I mean, how dare he! I was totally going to Kiss App him at some point.”

  I closed my eyes, brain-blocking her. I didn’t want her to know my thoughts at the moment, which weren’t pretty. I let them flow freely now, in the newly locked safety of my virtual head.

  Yeah, that’s easy to say when your daddy got rich on Pharmaceutical Apps and you have an endless source of capital.

  Why am I friends with you again?

  Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are sometimes?

  I opened my eyes and let Char back in. If I kept her from poking around in my head much longer, she’d guess I was having nasty thoughts.

  Char swiped a finger across the atmosphere and her App Store gathered around her like a cozy bowl of candy. Char’s icons always came in shades of bright pink and yellow and green and purple and blue. They squeaked and giggled and played with her hair and tickled her ears. One of them even settled happily into her cleavage, and she smiled down at it like it was a dear friend.

  She turned to me, head lolling to the side, her shiny black locks sultry and smooth. “What next, Ree? How shall I celebrate my continued virtual existence? Hmmm?” She put out a hand and a crowd of Apps settled into her palm like pastel-colored insects, looking at her adoringly, hoping to be chosen. “Ree? Ree! Are you listening to me?”

  I crossed my legs, the grass tickling my thighs. They were bland and pale next to Char’s rosy, flushed virtual skin. “I’m listening,” I droned. “Why don’t you try something new for a change?”

  Char’s pout grew even more pronounced. “What do you mean, for a change?”

  I sighed. “I mean, why don’t you pick Personality over Appearance?”

  She glared. “I care about more than Appearance Apps.”

  “All right. So prove it,” I dared.

  Her long-lashed, dark-lined eyes narrowed. “You could use a Personality App today.”

  “You first.” I crossed my arms to match my legs. “Then me.”

  Char turned her attention back to her Apps, trying to choose. She sat there pondering, lying back on her elbows, legs crossed, one red-heeled foot bouncing in the atmosphere in a classic pinup pose, like she had all the time in the world, when a single, beguiling App rose up out of the swarm. “Oooh! What’s that?” she cooed.

  The two of us stared at it.

  It took the shape of a present and glittered with every color in existence. It didn’t flirt or cajole, it just hovered in the air like a queen bee who knew all she needed to do was stand there and wait to be adored by admirers.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I admitted.

  “I don’t care what it is, Ree, Personality or Appearance or whatever else, I’m picking it.”

  “I thought we had a deal,” I said, but only halfheartedly. In truth, I wanted Char to download this App. I wanted to see what would happen when she did.

  She didn’t even bother to reply.

  Char just reached out a long, red-lacquered nail and touched it.

  The second her fingertip met the icon, she gasped. Her pinup features began to transform, fading away. Char’s wide dark eyes lolled back into her head with pleasure.

  Or, at least, that’s what I thought at first.

  Quickly, far more so than was normal, Char changed back into her basic virtual self. I waited, impatient to see what new and exciting traits would appear. Her arms and legs began to twitch, just a little. But then they began to jerk. Char’s elbows slipped out from under her and her head crashed to the ground.

  I scurried over and lifted it, cradling it in my hands. “Are you okay?”

  “Let me go,” she moaned.

  I laid her head back on the grass and moved away, watching as Char’s virtual skin turned from Caucasian 4.0 to a dark shade of gray. Something was wrong. Her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed. “Wait a minute,” she choked out.

  It sounded like someone was strangling her. “Char?”

  “Ree,” she coughed.

  Her skin was an ugly purple now, like a bluish bruise covering her virtual self. Then, right before my eyes, her skin began to slip from her body like one of those Real World animals I downloaded once that shed their skin every so often, emerging renewed. But Char wasn’t looking renewed. She was looking like . . . she was looking like . . .

  Death.

  But that was impossible.

  Death was impossible. Death had been overcome.

  The light in her eyes kept going in
and out, like someone suffering a brain stall.

  I leaned over her. “Char, what do I do?”

  A scream lodged in Char’s throat. She gasped, working her lips, trying to speak, her breathing hoarse and hiccupping. Finally, she managed a single word.

  “Poison,” she wheezed.

  “Poison?” I said desperately, reaching for her, but afraid to touch her, too. “The App was poisoned?”

  By now a crowd had gathered around us. People stopped to watch the scene Char was making as she twitched and jerked and choked in the grass. Parents out with their children for a nighttime stroll, Lullaby Apps tinkling softly above their carriages. Businessmen on their way home through the park. A crowd of young women heading to the bars for the evening, decked out in pricey Model Apps. A gang of fifteens, covered in tattoos and chains, trying to look badass but tittering and giggling underneath their downloads, were standing off to the left. As they watched, their laughter disappeared, their hands going to their mouths in horror.

  I looked from one group to the other, willing one of them to do something.

  No one stepped forward.

  In fact, most of them began stepping away.

  “Can’t anybody help us?” I cried.

  Not a single person answered. Everyone seemed frozen.

  As I sat there next to my friend, I watched the virtual Char I’d known my entire life slip away, until she was nothing more than a giant string of tiny numbers, tightly wound, weaving in and out of themselves again and again.

  All that was left of Char was code. Raw, naked code.

  The numbers began to break apart. Disintegrate like virtual ash.

  And then, suddenly, the dust that was left disappeared altogether.

  Char was gone.

  Vanished from the atmosphere, as though she was never there.

  At first, everyone around me remained silent. A collective shock fell across the park, across those of us who’d witnessed Char’s quick and ugly demise.

  I scrambled to my feet, unsure what to do. Who to call. What came next.

  Then, one of the models, a tall, bone-thin girl in a too-short dress, teetering on spiky heels made out of lightning bolts that flashed as she moved, began screaming.

  “Virus! Virus!”

  That was when everyone turned and ran.

  2

  Skylar

  the king and queen

  WE OPENED A door between worlds.

  Correction: I opened it. And now everything was a mess. Zeera kept telling me it wasn’t us, that the mess wasn’t my fault, but I wasn’t sure if I believed her. The people who’d crossed the border that day at the Body Market, fleeing for their lives, had suffered a rude awakening, to put it mildly. I’d thought my unplugging was bad, waking up on that dais with half the Real World staring at me. But at least I’d had the help of my Keeper afterward to ease my way into the real body again, to totter on my colt-like legs in the safety of her apartment, while she kept me nourished and helped me learn to speak again.

  But that day, all those poor people.

  I shook my head, picking at the loose threads of the comforter on my bed.

  They woke like I did, to chaos and confusion. To the need to run on legs they hadn’t used for decades, and for the younger ones, legs they’d never used at all since they were practically born on the plugs. Worse still, when things calmed down and Rain and everyone else helped get them to safety, it wasn’t as though there were Keepers waiting to help people adjust. We hadn’t had time to anticipate all that need, and with such a mass and sudden exodus from the App World, we didn’t have nearly enough Keepers to go around. So all those people . . . they just . . . had to fumble through adapting to the body and the Real World on their own. To say that most of them were traumatized was the understatement of the App Millennium.

  “Skylar?”

  Parvda raised her head from the pillow, her big eyes heavy with sleep, the skin around them red and puffy. The covers stretched all the way up to her neck even though the September air was warm and still smelled like summer. The briny tang of the ocean wafted into the room through the open sliding doors.

  “I’m right here,” I told her and set my book down. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” A single tear ran down Parvda’s cheek. “You should try to sleep more if you can. Get some rest.”

  Parvda opened her mouth to answer but a sob choked from her throat instead. She breathed deep, trying to hold back the next one. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice raspy. Then she began to weep.

  I pulled her closer and ran my hand over her long black hair. “You don’t have to be sorry, I told you it’s okay. I know how you feel,” I added in a whisper, as a tear leaked from my eyes. Parvda continued to cry and I held her, looking out at the dunes and just beyond, at the sliver of sea I could see from my bedroom at Briarwood. A wave would crash and drown out the sounds of Parvda’s sadness, only to calm and reveal them again in all her pain.

  It was true, the App World citizens were struggling, trying to make a life here and failing, despite our attempts to help. So many of them wanted to plug back in. They were homesick, they had App withdrawal, they’d returned to a Real World they’d long ago rejected. Little did they know that here in the cavernous underground of Briarwood sat tens of thousands of empty plugs, plugs that we could control and protect so they could go home in peace, knowing their bodies were safe. Though it was also true that before any of that could happen, before anyone could have the choice of staying or going back to virtual living, we would have to convince the powers in the App World to grant them asylum. If they returned without this, they would be considered illegal immigrants and might even be hunted down. The second everyone took advantage of our offer to repossess their bodies, they became personae non gratae in the City. There were rumors about border patrols and monitoring plugging-in activity, Big Brother types searching for surges in the fabric of the App World, signaling an illegal plug-in. There were even threats of jail if someone dared try to return home.

  It was more dangerous than ever to move between worlds.

  I tore my eyes from the sea and they settled onto my friend once again.

  Her sobs had subsided a little.

  It might be more dangerous than ever to move between worlds, but it wasn’t as though it couldn’t be done. It’s just that no one had dared to try—no one but Adam. He’d used the Shifting App to plug back in months ago. He and Parvda had a terrible fight, she still wouldn’t tell me about what, refused to talk about it. Afterward he’d stormed off and disappeared. An entire day passed before Parvda realized he’d gone down to the plugs and crossed the border.

  Lacy, of all people, had helped him do it.

  Parvda was staring into space, quiet now, eyes empty.

  “Sweetie, maybe today is the day that we pull him out? Make sure he’s okay?”

  “No,” she croaked. “He needs to come back on his own.” She glanced at me, eyes ablaze. “And before you suggest it again, no, you are not going to find him. Nobody is. If Adam wants to waltz his way into danger, then he can decide to waltz his way back by himself.”

  I tucked the sheet more tightly around her. As much as I wanted Parvda and Adam to fix whatever had happened, a part of me was relieved by her refusal. If I never had to go to the App World again I’d be a happy person. I had about a million reasons to avoid the City. Jude was rumored to be living there now and I wasn’t ready to fix that relationship. Then there was my power-mongering father, Emory Specter, who I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready to deal with. This, and the fact that I was public enemy number one, didn’t make crossing the border to find Adam very appealing.

  I wiped a tear from Parvda’s face. “You can be really stubborn, you know,” I said, but with affection. This—Parvda’s stubborn refusal to go find Adam or let anyone else do it—I understood, too.

  It had been months since I’d last seen Kit, since our one night together. The very next morning he’d betrayed me to my sister. I
didn’t know if I would ever see him again. Sometimes the pain of losing him was so great I felt like a zombie walking through the Real World, unable to see or breathe, less human than before. In the App World, I hadn’t known that heartbreak could literally make the body feel pain, make the chest constrict, the lungs ache. Even though I didn’t want to go back to the City, I envied the possibility of sending endless downloads into my code, App after App after App racing through me until I couldn’t even remember Kit’s name. Sometimes I wished Zeera could dig through my brain like she’d done to create the Shifting App until she found the piece of it that contained Kit, erasing it somehow. I’d actually asked her if this was possible, but she shook her head. Real brains don’t work like that, Skylar, she’d said.

  There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” I called out.

  Rain entered a step, eyebrows raised.

  I did my best not to look away. It was as though Rain could read my mind and knew each time I had thoughts of Kit. “Parvda’s awake,” I told him.

  “Good morning.” He revealed a tray with steaming coffee and two plates of cake from behind his back. “Your mother sent me to check on you both, with some breakfast.”

  The mention of my mother made me smile. It was so good to see her, to have her in my life, to have her take care of me and do the things that mothers do, like make their daughters breakfasts on occasion. Morning treats like coffee and cake. She’d outdone herself with the mothering ever since we’d been reunited. It was as if she was trying to make up for all those years apart.

  Rain set the tray onto the bed and sat down next to it. Then he leaned toward me and planted a kiss on my lips.

  I closed my eyes until he pulled away.

  “I missed you last night,” he said.

  “Me, too,” I told him, and busied myself by reaching for a cup of coffee. As I did, I saw Parvda staring, trying to catch my attention.

  Only she knew how I still felt about Kit. Only with Parvda could I let my guard down and show my true feelings, the total despair in my heart that Kit had been willing to sell me back to my sister after all, too cowardly to show his face afterward. And while Kit was gone, Rain had worked his way into my life again, finding my mother for me, an act for which I would be eternally grateful, no question about it. I wasn’t really sure what else was going on between us, but as far as Rain was concerned, we were together. Or we were sort of together. Or maybe even he didn’t know either. People were treating us as a couple, there was no question about that, my mother included. And Lacy—Lacy, too, which was a total nightmare. But in private, things with Rain and me were not so simple.