Unplugged Read online

  I decided to ignore his lack of faith. “What happens if we need to get back here?”

  The boy stared at the crumbling wall next to us. It was blurry with age, as though it might turn to dust at any moment, just like the splinter. “I’ll come to get you.”

  “You can just unplug and plug back in when you want?”

  “Something like that,” he said.

  I studied him. This boy was different with each new piece of information I collected. He was unexpectedly young. And now he had ways of moving between worlds as he pleased. “What makes you so special that you—” I began when he turned my way again, and I didn’t finish. There was something about the light that hit his face just right. “Wait a minute.” I stepped closer. “Look at me.”

  He shifted. I reached out and brushed the hair from his face. His eyes widened and I saw it again—the resemblance. It was in the shape of his lips and the expression of his dark eyes. The pronounced curve of his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. The way his brow furrowed while he stared at me. There was a hardness about him, a coldness in the way he looked at me. It was there that I saw the stamp of his father, the man whose face I’d been seeing nonstop ever since the funeral.

  “I know who you are,” I whispered. “You’re Emory Specter’s son.”

  He glanced back at the front door, like he suddenly wished the others would arrive. “Everyone in the City knows the Defense Minister plugged in without a family. He has no wife and no children. The perfect circumstances for an all-consuming job like his.” His voice wavered, but he didn’t confirm or deny the accusation.

  “A man can have children and not acknowledge them,” I said.

  He looked at me hard. “Are you saying I’m illegitimate?”

  “No. But in a way,” I went on, thinking out what I wanted to say next, “you’re a Single like me, aren’t you? You’re not an orphan, not technically, but you’re here alone.” I softened my tone. “Sometimes it’s worse, isn’t it? How even though your family meant well by plugging you in, you still feel like they abandoned you.” It pained me to articulate this thought that had long been buried inside me.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Singles aren’t abandoned. Your family wanted you to have a better future. My father didn’t plug me in. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  I took this in. “So you are the Defense Minister’s son.”

  He nodded. For the first time, he seemed vulnerable, like any other boy my age capable of hurt, of sadness. Not so cold. We stood there staring at each other in that decrepit house, with its falling-down ceiling and its walls full of holes. Did this boy scramble for capital just like Singles did, even though he was the son of one of the most powerful men in our world? “You said you were in this for revenge. Revenge against who? Your father?”

  He didn’t respond. His virtual skin began to darken until it was red. The anger written all over him told me everything I needed to know.

  “Listen.” My mind was electric with thoughts about what it must be like to be the son of a man like Emory Specter, a man who so easily used a funeral to further his politics and who was about to enact the most massive change both worlds had ever known—all without giving citizens a say in their fate. “If revenge has anything to do with your father . . .” I hesitated, trying to decide if I truly meant what I was about to say, knowing that I couldn’t let the words out unless I was willing to follow through. When I was sure how I felt, I went on. “Then I’m willing to help.”

  The boy watched me like I was a strange creature, turned mythical by an App before his eyes. “Be careful what you offer. You might not like what it brings you.”

  “I mean it,” I said fiercely.

  Slowly, the boy extended his hand. “My name is Trader,” he said carefully.

  I took it. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, just as carefully.

  He stared at our clasped hands. Opened his mouth to say something else, when the front door was flung open and Lacy Mills sauntered on through.

  12

  Border crossings

  “WELL, IF IT isn’t Little Miss Righteous,” Lacy said.

  “Hi, Lacy.” I wished I could make her walk back out the door so there was enough time to hear what Trader was about to say. A moment later, Adam walked through the door, and not long after, Sylvia. We all nodded hello. Like me, they were dressed in standard-issue casual attire—black long-sleeved shirts and black jeans.

  But Lacy had gone all out. She’d obviously downloaded a Manga App. Her hair was a long inky black, as black as Trader’s. Her eyelashes were thick and curled up like soft sparkly fans against snow-white skin. Everything about her was exaggerated, either overly big or overly tiny. Her lips, her eyes, and her chest were huge, yet her shoulders, waist, and legs were impossibly narrow. She looked like a cartoon, albeit a gorgeous one. Her dress was an ethereal green, almost entirely sheer, opaque only in the most strategic of places. Its skirt was a series of delicate petals that fell to the middle of her thighs.

  Lacy turned to Trader. “Can we get on with this, please?” She sounded bored, but the look in her eyes said otherwise.

  Trader gestured for us to follow. He led everyone up the stairs to the second floor of the house. Lacy went first, then Adam and Sylvia. Before I joined them, I looked around once more at the entryway and the living room. This house would be the last thing I saw in this world. How sad. If I had a choice, the last thing I’d want to see was Inara. I followed the sound of voices down the hall. Everyone was gathered in another room where everything looked broken and neglected. A bare bulb dangled from the ceiling, giving off a dim glow. In the center were four ordinary chairs arranged in a tight circle, close enough that whoever sat in them could link arms. The only thing that distinguished them was that they weren’t falling apart.

  Adam was pacing, as usual. “So? What happens now?”

  We all turned to Lacy.

  Lacy rolled her eyes. “That’s not my job.”

  Trader stepped into the center of the circle. “Once you unplug, you’re going to be disoriented,” he warned. “Be ready for that.”

  “Someone will be there to care for us, right?” Sylvia asked.

  Trader nodded. “Each of you has been assigned a Keeper . . . of sorts.”

  “Who exactly—” Sylvia started.

  But he silenced her with a glare. “You’ll find out soon enough. More important will be remembering that real bodies are different than virtual ones. You have to be very careful. And not all Real World citizens are friendly—some of them won’t want to help you. In fact, they’ll want the opposite.” Trader’s eyes shifted to mine. “You must be prepared to defend yourselves.”

  Adam and Sylvia erupted into hushed whispers.

  “Defend ourselves from what?” I asked.

  Before he could say anything, Lacy got between us. Her Apps were already draining away, her eyes growing smaller again, her hair changing back to its standard red color. Lacy glared at Trader. “I’m not paying you to answer lowly Singles’ questions. Do your job. It’s time for us to go.”

  Her words quieted us.

  “Everyone pick a chair,” Trader said. “It doesn’t matter which one.”

  Adam and Sylvia sat down next to each other. Lacy claimed the vacant chair beside Adam. This left only one between Lacy and Sylvia, and I took it.

  Adam’s right knee bobbed up and down. He was grabbing the back of his neck again. “Now what?”

  Trader ignored him. His eyes had grown vacant. When they returned to alertness, he said, “Now this.”

  App icons appeared in the atmosphere, one in front of each of us. They turned slowly as they hovered.

  I should have known. Of course unplugging would involve an App.

  Lacy laughed. “Oooh!” She sounded delighted. “One last download before we go!”

  They weren’t at all typical, though. They didn’t shimmer or glitter or even have an enticing image to tempt us. They were dark. Like small lumps
of coal. Even though they floated like normal Apps, they seemed heavier, like they would seep into us slowly, instead of racing through our code. Like they might contain poison.

  “Where did you get these?” I asked Trader.

  “I designed them myself,” he said, sounding proud. Then, “It’s just about time.”

  A number—sixty—appeared in the center of the circle.

  It immediately began counting down.

  Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.

  This was happening fast.

  We looked at one another. Adam seemed surprisingly calm, but Sylvia was breathing quickly. Lacy’s Apps had drained entirely and she’d returned to her standard virtual self. Without all the downloads to transform her features, she looked remarkably . . . normal. Like she might be any other girl in this City.

  Fifty-two.

  My virtual heart sped. In a few moments I would no longer exist in this world. I wouldn’t live in Singles Hall. I wouldn’t wake up and go to school like always. My best friend wouldn’t pester me about downloading all of her favorite Apps.

  But soon I’d be waking up in the same world as my mother and my sister.

  “It’s like with any other App,” Trader was saying, but I found it impossible to turn away from the black hovering sphere to look at him. I could barely focus on anything else. “It will download into your code. All you have to do is reach out and touch it.”

  My hand moved out toward the icon, my finger unfurling until it met the surface of the App. A current shivered through me, then that familiar icy feeling began to seep into my code. Instead of enjoying it like I normally did, I felt uneasy, like something was wrong.

  Like I—Skylar Cruz—was being erased.

  “Be warned,” Trader went on. “This App can have strange effects. You may enter the Real World in a dream state, and it may seem endless, but try to stay calm.” He came and stood in front of me. “Eventually it will seem like a lucid dream,” he said. “And you can take control of it. You should think of it like a game,” he added, a whisper in my ear. “You must play like your life depends on it.”

  Trader’s words reverberated through me. The download made my head spin, but my legs, my arms, everything else felt like lead.

  “What’s wrong with mine?” Sylvia’s voice wavered across the room. She sounded fearful. “It’s . . . it’s like the icon is repelled by me! It isn’t working!”

  I managed to raise my eyes enough to see Sylvia frantically grasping at her App. It darted away, zipping right, then left. Trader was at her side, trying to fix the glitch.

  “Sylvia.” I said her name, doing my best to focus. Wanting to help. Her name came out slow and thick.

  Trader was shaking his head. He looked down at her. “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s wrong?” I managed, my words distorted.

  “She doesn’t have a body to unplug,” he said. “The App won’t connect her to it because her body isn’t there.”

  There came a loud wailing as Sylvia began to weep. “Zeera,” she cried, over and over again. Then she got up from her chair and ran from the room.

  Adam looked at me through blurry eyes. The App made it impossible to go after her. I was nailed to the chair. But that didn’t stop me from filing away the name. Zeera.

  Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.

  The download ran through every bit of me now. I felt its temperature shift from cold to warm, then burning. My gaze went to Lacy’s feet—or where her feet should have been.

  Little by little, she was disappearing.

  The same thing was happening to Adam.

  I tried to wiggle my toes but I couldn’t.

  Even Lacy’s eyes held fear. She reached out and grabbed my hand. “Don’t let go,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Lacy seemed human, like the little girl I’d seen call to her parents, only to be ignored, so sad to be abandoned. “I won’t,” I told her. Just as the light began to dim and a strange buzzing sounded in my mind, I added, “You don’t have to be afraid. We’re in this together.”

  Her grip on me tightened.

  Nineteen.

  I could feel someone behind me. Trader crouched to my level. “Be careful, Skye,” he whispered.

  I was too woozy to respond.

  Fourteen.

  Right then, an image flashed before me.

  Inara.

  The atmosphere was flickering in and out.

  But I knew that face. I’d always know it. My mind must have conjured up the closest thing I had to safety and security to help ease the transition. My own virtual sister.

  “Skylar,” she said, but so loudly her voice seemed to fill the room.

  Something was wrong. She sounded scared. If my mind conjured Inara to make me feel safe, then why did she seem so frightened?

  “Skye,” she cried out again.

  There it was, the fear. And disbelief. I wanted to respond but words wouldn’t form in my mouth. My tongue, my lips were frozen.

  “Don’t do this!”

  Ten.

  I tried to lift an arm but I couldn’t.

  There was a bang and then a thud.

  “Let go of me,” she yelled.

  “You can’t be in here,” said a different voice now.

  Trader.

  He’d responded to Inara as though he could see her. Which meant that she wasn’t present only in my mind.

  Inara was actually here.

  “Get out of my way,” she said, closer now.

  But my brain was already shutting down.

  Seven. Six.

  The world grew dark, like someone had turned off the lights.

  “No, Skye!”

  I heard the words, but they were so far away.

  Faintly, so faintly I thought I must be dreaming, there came a pressure on my shoulders. I forced my eyes open.

  Inara’s bright green ones blinked back at me.

  She was right there, but I couldn’t reach her.

  My arms were gone.

  I wanted to say something. I wanted so badly to tell Inara everything, and I knew in that moment I’d made a mistake keeping this secret from her. My true sister, more real to me than the biological one I hoped to find when I unplugged. With all the energy I had left, I opened my mind and chatted her one last time.

  I’m sorry, Inara. So sorry.

  Three. Two.

  It was time.

  I began to fall.

  All of us did.

  But Inara managed to get in a few final words of her own.

  “You betrayed me, Skylar,” she whispered in my ear.

  Then, just like that, I was gone.

  INTERLUDE

  13

  Resurrection

  HANDS.

  There were hands.

  So many of them at my feet, my legs, my middle, my shoulders, my neck, my head. Hands pushing and prodding and shifting me like I was a sack of bones, an inert object, like I was not even human.

  I wanted to scream NOOOOOOO at the top of my lungs and I wanted to fight them off. Fear built like a sharp knife emerging from within, the point of it lodging in the center of my throat so I couldn’t swallow. I wanted to shout my name at them, whoever they were, the owners of these hands, to push away whatever force was holding me under, yell loudly and piercingly, STOP TOUCHING ME!

  But I couldn’t.

  The hands slid away, and for a moment, there was peace.

  It was then that I realized what this must be.

  Trader had spoken of dreams before we unplugged.

  This was a dream.

  Then, “Careful,” I heard. “We don’t want anything to break.”

  And then, after this . . .

  There was . . .

  Nothing.

  I was cold.

  So cold.

  And dizzy.

  Swinging through the air. The breeze, the movement.

  Was I on a swing?

  There was a noise in my brain, a constant clicking, a chattering in
my head, like someone had entered my mind and was chipping away at the code like it was made of granite. But no, the sound was coming from my mouth. At first I didn’t understand, then it came to me.

  Teeth.

  This had happened once before, the chattering, when I encountered a blizzard in a game and I could barely see, but I’d plowed forward anyway and the App, to make it seem realistic, to make it seem real, sent this noise reverberating through my code because it would happen in a real body that was freezing in the snow.

  Was I in the real body? Was this what it was like?

  Was I freezing in the snow?

  The swinging, suddenly it stopped.

  Everything grew so still.

  But the fear, the fear grew.

  I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything, not even lift a finger or open my eyes to see. Maybe, just maybe I was still in the App World, still disappearing, or in some strange purgatory between worlds.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  I was still between worlds.

  The dream world.

  With this thought, the fear subsided some, drained slowly, like an App seeping from my code.

  But yet . . . there was stone.

  I felt stone.

  Cold and hard against my back.

  I was sure of it.

  And ropes—I thought there were ropes—sliding out from underneath me.

  And then, then, all of a sudden, again I felt . . .

  Nothing.

  There came a great crash and a long rumbling sigh, then another, and then again, as though the noise wanted to rock me this way and that, a baby in its arms. The word ocean floated across my mind like a tiny vessel heading in toward shore.

  Everything was so calm.

  I was full. I was nurtured. I was loved.

  The Real World was a womb in a great expansive sea. It was the sun high above in the sky, warming the skin and bathing the body with protective light. I could see nothing but I could feel . . . everything. I soaked up the heat, drank in the sweet smell of the air, the breeze that wafted gently against my skin. And my skin, it was so smooth and soft and alive.

  I was alive.

  And then, I felt something new.