Disruption (3 page)

I
t was a day of building blocks. Very carefully placed blocks that I’d spent the past two years collecting. If one thing slipped off kilter, everything would come crashing down. And that simply wasn’t an option. I’d never get another shot at this.

After a mind-numbing hour of American history, I spotted Thomas Mayer heading for the library. He wasn’t an overly popular guy, but he was one of the most outspoken at Kingly. He was the head of the debating team and had already received an early offer of full scholarship at Harvard Law. He was also, like most people now, a health freak.

I followed him to the library, noting that on top of his books he balanced a bottle of SwitzWater. I couldn’t contain the eye roll. As if rainwater collected from peaks of the Swiss Alps was going to provide the miracle ‘pheromone cleansing’ it advertised.

The school librarian, Ms Cooper, was tapping away on the computer at her desk. I bit back a smirk when I saw her flinch at the sight of me. My trip to the library had just become dual purpose.

Eighteen months ago I’d begun shadowing a number of Kingly’s teachers. It was a lucky day when I’d spied Ms Cooper attempting to negotiate her way out of some heavy gambling debts with one of Arlington’s less forgiving loan sharks. Unlike many of the older generations, Ms Cooper had taken to the new world of M-Chips and their many uses like a duck to water. In particular, gambling. Seeing my opportunity, I’d stepped in and made her an offer she literally couldn’t refuse – unless she was okay with seeing her dog’s throat slit that night.

Tough choice. She really loved her dog.

‘Hello, Ms Cooper,’ I said, smiling.

‘Ms Stevens,’ she said curtly, straightening her frumpy dress at the waist, avoiding my eyes. I might have paid off her debts, but she – like many others – definitely didn’t appreciate the repayment schedule.

‘Everything arranged?’ I asked, resting my elbow on the high bench and keeping an eye on Thomas.

She pursed her pencil-lined lips unhappily. ‘You’re an intelligent girl. If you spent as much time studying as you do … God knows what, you wouldn’t need to cheat,’ she hissed.

I shrugged. ‘Probably true, Ms Cooper. But those other things I have to do keep me awfully busy. When will the papers be ready?’

I liked Ms Cooper. She had fight in her eyes and I respected that. But she and I both knew we were already in way too deep together.

‘Tomorrow,’ she said, looking back at her computer. She was finished with me. I nodded, making a mental note to return for the copy of my midterm questions tomorrow. She might not like helping me keep my place at Kingly Academy, but like Gus, she always delivered.

Thomas had set up his books and laptop at one of the deserted communal desks, placing his water bottle on the edge. He obviously had a free period and was settling in. It was almost too easy. After about five minutes, he disappeared into the boys’ bathroom. As soon as he was gone, I whipped by his table and cracked the lid on Switzerland’s finest.

Pheromones don’t begin to register in human bodies until after puberty. When scientists first discovered how to access and decipher pheromone data, it was quickly decided that children would not be given access to Phera-tech until the age of eighteen. This would allow teenagers to complete puberty before relying on the new technology to make positive and negative matches.

Once you turned eighteen, you were fitted with a new M-Band containing the Phera-tech zip. In activation mode, the new M-Band would take a pheromone reading off people within a two-metre radius, rating them according to their chemical signature. Ratings were given as percentages and included everything from friendship to lust potentials and long-term relationships – as well as the rare one hundred per cent true match.

It remained a person’s right to choose whether or not to leave the Phera-tech on – some turned it off when they found their long-term match, or in the golden cases their true match – but it was compulsory for every adult to be fitted with the Phera-tech zip and to register a minimum of four ratings per calendar month.

Why?

So that negs could be detected.

Along with four other students, I’d celebrated my eighteenth birthday this month. Which meant we were all required by law to have M-Bands with Phera-tech. And today was the day M-Corp was sending in one of its technicians to upgrade our M-Bands.

Walking through the halls during lunch, I sensed people’s excitement. An upgrade day always created a thrill, and today wasn’t just an ordinary upgrade day. Ratings ruled futures and preparation had become key. Gone were the days of the rave parties. Underage sex was scarce and no one smoked or did drugs. These days, the biggest trend was gambling. Predicting other people’s ratings was big business and Kingly was no exception.

Today was a
major
payday for the school’s punters – in just over an hour, everyone would know whether Quentin and Ivy were the ideal match they appeared to be.

I’d placed a hefty bet myself.

I had every intention of turning my Phera-tech off the moment I could. But aside from long-term – usually married – couples, deactivating was seen as a Pre-Evo statement. My choice would put me in a highly judged minority of the population. Not a problem as far as I was concerned.

Preference Evolution supporters were still fighting against M-Chipping and pheromone technology. They were the only ones left who stood by the idea of the God-particle – claiming that each person should have the chance to bend against science and explore love for themselves.

I agreed. But I wasn’t one of them. Their methods were too slow, too righteous and result lacking.

I sat in the back corner of the lunchroom, watching the ‘in’ table. Quentin and Ivy were the focal point, flanked by some of Kingly’s highest and mightiest. It was surprising there wasn’t a green aura surrounding the table given the amount of money wafting off them.

Ivy and Quentin had been together for the last year and were
the
couple everyone drooled over. They appeared to have it all: great looks, intelligence, high-flying families, connections, money-money-money. And the list went on …

Ivy was stunning, of course. No one snags the high-school hottie without being equally as attractive – at least, not without Phera-tech on her side. Ivy somehow managed to portray a demure image, and I had to give it to her, she knew how to put herself together without looking overdone. In fact, with her slender frame, naturally golden hair and restrained makeup, which showcased her smattering of freckles, she really did paint the picture of a natural beauty. There were not many guys at the school who did not covet her. And more than a few made passes at her, despite the fact she was clearly Mercer territory.

Quentin seemed unbothered by the male attention Ivy received. He appeared to be more than content to sit beside her, earplugs in, while everyone chatted around him. He was that arrogant. The odds were high in favour of a Quentin / Ivy seventy per cent plus match – which would put them in the ‘happily ever after’ category.

If today went my way, not only would I hook Quentin, I’d bankroll Gus’s attempts to secure our new contact.

The final bell rang and students began meandering towards their classes. All except for Ivy, Quentin, Nathan Bennett and me.

Despite my best efforts, I was nervous. But then I looked over at Nathan Bennett, who was sporting his usual angry-at-the-world expression, and I couldn’t help feeling a little smug. He was the perfect person to round out our little group.

Feeling eyes on me, I turned back to the centre table and caught Quentin staring at me with – what? Morbid curiosity? I wondered briefly if I’d made the right decision that morning, challenging him that way. But then he turned his gaze away – not embarrassed, he’d simply finished looking. I rolled my eyes. Yes, it had been the right decision. He had to know I was strong, that I could stand up to intimidation and power. It was the only way he was going to trust me.

The cafeteria door swung open and in strolled Headmaster Edwards, followed by a familiar face.

‘Right.’ Mr Edwards nodded, taking in our presence. ‘We’re all here, good. You’ll note Mr Mayer is not present. He appears to have become quite unwell and was taken home. Therefore …’ The principal cleared his throat uncomfortably and I forced a neutral expression. No one else needed to know I was giving myself a mental high-five. ‘We will be continuing without him.’

Without a fifth person to attend the upgrade, Principal Edwards was walking a fine line. Many people would consider a postponement. But today was no ordinary upgrade day and, like Ms Cooper, Mr Edwards enjoyed a side wager. I’d had no doubt he would’ve bet big on the Quentin / Ivy match. I had counted on it.

‘This is Mr Reynolds. He will be fitting you with your upgraded M-Bands today.’ Mr Edwards cast his gaze over all of us, settling disapprovingly on Nathan. It may have had something to do with his black skinny jeans teamed with a formal suit jacket. He almost pulled it off too, in that kinda rocker, kinda emo way. Almost.

‘For the sake of clarification,’ Mr Edwards continued. ‘Let me reiterate what I am sure you already know. Included in your new upgrade will be pheromone technology. It will be your choice whether this accessory remains active or not. However, everyone is required to register a minimum of four pheromone readings per calendar month. As I am sure you are aware, if you register more than three negative ratings in any one-month period, you will be liable to further inquiry. Now, before I leave you in the capable hands of Mr Reynolds, does anyone have any questions?’

Faced with our silence, he went on, ‘Very well. Lastly, please remember, teachers keep their Phera-tech inactive during school hours. We ask that you respect their privacy if you should see them outside of school hours and not attempt to take a reading.’ His eyes narrowed in warning, as we nodded awkwardly. Pheromone ratings had caused some inappropriate relations between students and teachers in the past. Satisfied with our response, he spun around and disappeared through the swinging doors.

Everyone stared at Mr Reynolds.

Or as I knew him, Gus.

At the age of twenty-two, Gus was young to be in the position he was. He clicked the top of his pen, uncomfortable with the attention, and concentrated on the folder in his hand. ‘I’ve um … I’ve set up in room 212 just down the hall.’ He glanced at me and I stared back impassively. Damn it, he was not normally nervous. I narrowed my eyes in the hope of aggravating him. Anything would be an improvement.

‘All your preliminary data has already been uploaded. It will only take about five minutes to link up your new bands. You can come in at five-minute intervals.’

Was he
sweating
?

‘Upon entering the room, you will be required to use cleansing inhalers to clear your system before testing. Please ensure you inhale these fully.’ Gus cleared his throat, but was finally warming up. ‘I’ll see you in reverse alphabetic order. Maggie Stevens first, then Quentin Mercer, Ivy Knight and Nathan Bennett. Any questions?’

Ivy leaned forwards in her seat and smiled. ‘Will you have your Phera-tech on active?’

The obvious come-on was a surprise. I didn’t see it myself, but girls seemed to find Gus’s genius rebel look a turn-on. Even more surprising was Quentin’s complete lack of care. He actually looked slightly amused. Either way, it gave Gus what he needed to get his mojo back.

His shoulders loosened and he gave Ivy a lingering look, which had her turning pink. ‘I see no reason why I should. Do you?’

Oh, poor Ivy. She was so out of her league.

Ivy’s pink blush turned red and she shook her head, suddenly finding her shoes fascinating.

‘Let’s get this done then. Miss Stevens?’ Gus prompted.

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry, and followed Gus out of the cafeteria.

O
nce we were halfway down the hall, he glanced at me with an are-you-sure-about-this look. I raised my eyebrows in a don’t-make-me-hurt-you response. He shrugged and kept moving into room 212, positioning himself behind the desk where his computer and M-Band equipment were already set up.

‘I see our testing group is missing a person,’ Gus said slyly.

I shrugged. ‘Poor Thomas. Must be something in the water.’

Gus grinned even as he shook his head. Having five people in the room would’ve made things considerably more difficult, not to mention Thomas was altogether too opinionated and forthright. He could’ve ruined everything.

‘You look like a nerd by the way,’ I threw at him, giving his navy blue suit the once-over. Gus had a particular style – a unique expensive yet somehow thrifty look that I’d never admit worked for him – but this suit was not part of it. At least he’d kept his haphazard hair.

He tugged at his sleeves, scowling. ‘Blondie out there liked it enough.’ He flashed a brief smile. ‘M-Corp policy when representing the company. Baggy suits with pillow-sized shoulder pads should be outlawed.’

I refocused my attention as I closed the classroom door and stood in front of the plastic tray holding the four small inhalers. Everything around me faded away as I studied the small vials, taking slow steady breaths.

Pheromones are released through our glands, and we register them via a receptor located between our nose and mouth. If there was a blockage to a receptor then a pheromone reading could theoretically be faulty. The inhalers, taken through the nose, were intended to cleanse and ensure there was no interference.

Reaching into my pocket, I extracted the tiny vial I had carried with me for the past two years. It was all I had left of my father. Dad hadn’t even known I’d taken it. I swallowed, thinking back to that day. I was only just sixteen and didn’t understand. Dad and all his crazy experiments were nothing more than fun times to me. It had been our secret. Our special time together. I wished I’d paid more attention, or at least told him how much I admired him.

I often wondered what Dad would tell me to do if he knew I still had the vial. Given what it was capable of, he’d probably expect something sensible, like delivering it to the Pre-Evo’s. But I couldn’t part with it. Especially when I knew it could make all the difference.

I picked up the inhaler labelled Quentin Mercer, opened the top and dumped the contents into a nearby flowerpot. With a deep breath and a glance towards Gus, who had turned a pale shade of grey, I poured in the vial’s contents and resealed the lid.

Gus groaned. ‘We’re going to burn bad for this.’

I licked my dry lips and tried for a smile. ‘You worry too much.’

He shook his head, turning back to his keyboard. ‘Sometimes I think I would’ve been better off taking the jail time than getting into bed with you.’

Now my smile turned spiteful. ‘The day you and I get into bed together will be the day I’m buried in the ground.’

‘Gives us both something to look forward to then,’ he hissed. ‘Turn off your band.’

I did as he instructed and heard the ensuing beeps as my new band uplinked with my M-Chip.

‘Here.’ Gus tossed my new M-Band at me. ‘It’s up and running. Put it on.’

When he saw my hesitation, he smirked. ‘Nervous you might be the one to test neg?’

It hadn’t been what I was thinking, although it wasn’t as if the idea hadn’t crossed my mind. With all the choices I’d made lately, the things I’d done to people, wouldn’t I be the perfect candidate for a neg rating?

Instead of answering his question, I eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’re inactive?’

He scoffed, looking like he was on the verge of laughter. ‘Baby, trust me when I say, I don’t need a pheromone reading to know you and I are never going to be compatible in any way. Inhaler.’ The last was an order.

I grinned. ‘True.’ I picked up the inhaler labelled as mine and breathed it in, following protocol. It was important I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary – other than what I’d already done, that is.

We heard footsteps and then the door opened. Quentin Mercer strolled in, super suave. Guess knocking isn’t required in his world.

‘You ready for me?’ he asked Gus, his voice as smooth as his walk.

Gus nodded. ‘Just activating your band.’

Quentin moved in, giving me a wide berth, which gave me confidence. I sat on the edge of one of the classroom desks and studied my new band. It looked exactly like my old band, but the touchscreen had more accessories. I cheered myself internally when I noticed that my heart rate was cruising exactly where it should be.

There was a beep from Gus’s direction; Quentin’s new M-Band was online and attempting the uplink to his M-Chip.

Gus’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Quentin. ‘Have you still got your other M-Band turned on?’

Quentin nodded.

‘Turn it off, please.’

While Quentin followed Gus’s instructions, I opened up my new Phera-tech zip for the first time, noting the side diagram resembling a thermometer. It provided the visual gauge of any rating, while the dial in the middle offered additional information such as gene types and health data. Phera-tech didn’t automatically entitle you to have access to other people’s medical history and gene typing, but if authorised by the individual, it was all there for the taking.

I shook my head at the thought and heard another beep; Quentin’s M-Chip linking correctly with his new M-Band that was resting by Gus’s computer.

This was it. The moment of truth. Two years of planning. Two years of doing things that would forever haunt my dreams. If this failed …

Out of nowhere, my band flashed and released a three-beep blast. Startled, I looked down at the screen. The air left my lungs in a rush and another series of beeps sounded. Heart rate, blood pressure – I was going off like a freaking fire alarm.

Feeling faint, I grappled to turn off my Phera-tech while out of the corner of my eyes I saw Gus reach for Quentin’s band, which had also beeped.

I took a breath and dug deep for equilibrium before looking up. Both Quentin and Gus were staring at me suspiciously. I swallowed, reassuring myself that now that I had deactivated my Phera-tech any data would be erased from both of our bands.

I’d almost ruined everything.

‘What?’ I said, my voice too pitchy for comfort. I took another breath and pulled it together. ‘I’m nervous and my heart rate spiked.’ I tilted my head towards Quentin, recovering my mask. ‘Surely you know what that’s like,’ I mocked, referring to his heart rate beep-off earlier.

Quentin kept watching me, again with a curiosity that seemed to unsettle him. Gus was flat-out staring at me. Hands on hips, I narrowed my gaze on him until he looked away.

Gus turned his attention back to Quentin and pointed to the inhaler. ‘Inhale.’

Quentin picked up the inhaler and I could feel the blood pumping in my chest and rushing to my head. I had to work hard to control my breathing so my M-Band didn’t go off again. With a fast snort, Quentin inhaled the small dose. This
had
to work.

‘All set,’ Gus mumbled, looking back and forth between Quentin and me.

Quentin took off his old M-Band, handing it over to Gus and replacing it quickly with his new upgrade. He used the touchscreen to check a few settings, seeming anxious to make sure everything was correct. Then, as if surprised, he looked up at me. ‘Your Phera-tech’s off …?’ It was a statement and question in one, though I wasn’t sure exactly what he was really asking.

I shrugged, unfazed. ‘I’ll turn it on for the testing.’

His brow furrowed, and then he surprised me by tapping his screen. ‘Me too, then.’

Before I had a chance to wonder about his response, Ivy pushed open the door. ‘Ready?’ she asked, smiling at Quentin excitedly.

Gus motioned Ivy in and followed the same process, setting her up and linking her M-Chip to her new M-Band, and then again when Nathan entered.

Our records were uploaded and codes for our new M-Bands were scanned into the system to hook up our GPS and health history. Then, as the privacy act stipulated, Gus cleared all of the old M-Bands. Each one of us had to fingerprint-sign on his computer screen that the band was now inactive. When I signed mine, I used the opportunity to give Gus a wink, reminding him why he was here,
why
he had no choice. It was his fondness for rebooting discarded M-Bands and selling them on the black market that had given me the perfect leverage against him.

I felt more than
saw
his seething hatred.

‘Your new M-Bands will be on factory settings,’ he told us. ‘Check your heart rate and other health monitors are operating as per usual, ensuring that if you have any prescribed medicines these are picked up through the link.’ Everyone complied, nodding when they’d checked.

Gus took a deep breath. ‘Okay. Let’s turn on the Phera-tech and run a test. Please stand within a two-metre radius of one another. It’s easiest if you form a small circle. When you are ready, if you haven’t done so, turn on your new tech.’

Nathan moved forwards first, surprising me by his eagerness. His angsty attitude always made me assume he was a Pre-Evo, or at least against the technology. But for the first time he actually appeared to be … excited. Willing.

Huh. I’d had Nathan Bennett all wrong. He wasn’t against it. He was one of the quiet hopefuls. There were a lot like him, teenagers who’d never been much more than average and hoped their new rating potential would open doors. Until now Nathan had done a good job of keeping his desires hidden.

Ivy scooped up Quentin’s hand and they moved into their positions. ‘This is it, baby,’ she said excitedly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I wondered briefly if anything ever made him
really
smile.

Once in position, we all turned on our Phera-tech. Everyone watched their bands with eagle eyes. Everyone but me. I was watching Quentin. Within a matter of seconds his M-Band registered one, then two, then three people in his immediate proximity and the colour drained from his face and his shoulders rolled forwards.

I glanced at Gus, who was also watching intently.

You see, this was never about changing Quentin’s pheromone signature. Changing his signature would achieve nothing. What really made a difference was changing the way he received the
incoming
signatures.

It was called disruption.

Thanks to Dad’s chemical cocktail, Quentin had just read all three of us as negatives. And because readings are mutual and a negative reading overrides any other, all of our readings had reacted the same way towards him.

‘Can I get you to call out the ratings, please, as I name the pair,’ Gus powered on, remaining professional. ‘Please note that I may at any stage request visual verification. Miss Knight and Mr Bennett?’

Ivy, who’d also turned a ghostly shade, blurted out her response. ‘Sixty per cent.’

Nathan concurred, looking pleased he’d just rated as lust-match potential with the hottest girl in school.

‘Mr Bennett and Miss Stevens?’ Gus asked.

‘Forty per cent,’ Nathan responded, sounding comfortable that this put us in the non-compatible category.

‘Miss Stevens, you’ll need to verify,’ Gus said, barely containing his smile at the rating.

‘Yes, forty per cent is correct,’ I said.

Sure, I was no prize, but I could assure Nathan the feeling was mutual.

‘Okay.’ Gus tapped a few keys on his computer. ‘Mr Bennett and Mr Mercer?’

Quentin swallowed and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

‘That’s a negative response from me,’ Nathan responded wearily. A neg rating was always uncomfortable. I suspected the only reason he’d said it aloud was because he’d already had the two other acceptable ratings, assuring him that he couldn’t be a neg.

Ivy was looking at Quentin, who seemed to be ignoring her.

Yep. Suave had left the building.

When it became apparent Quentin wasn’t in a hurry to verify, Gus used the opportunity. ‘Mr Bennett, could you please bring your band over here for visual verification.’

The Privacy Act prevented ratings from being recorded on any kind of government mainframe.
Except
in the case that your Phera-tech registered four or more negative ratings in a month. If that happened, a flag was activated and privacy became non-existent. If an investigation proved the person was a neg, removal was immediate.

Technicians like Gus were authorised and expected to make random visual checks when they felt the need.

Once Gus had verified the reading and sent Nathan back to the circle, he proceeded. ‘I need Miss Knight and Miss Stevens.’

‘Forty-five per cent,’ Ivy said, sounding distracted.

Girls tended to rate quite low with one another – unless they were gay – averaging between twenty-five and fifty per cent. Boys had higher averages, ranging between forty to sixty per cent. This reading put Ivy and me in the compatible friend category. Strange.

I verified the result.

‘Thank you,’ Gus said, entering some more data. ‘Miss Knight and Mr Mercer?’

This time, it was Ivy who appeared to be speechless. ‘I … I …’

Gus looked up, eyebrows raised inquisitively as if he didn’t know exactly what she was about to say.

‘Negative,’ Quentin said, his tone low, lost.

When Ivy remained speechless, Gus took a visual verification from her before returning to his computer, entering the numbers. ‘Mr Mercer and Miss Stevens?’

My M-Band gave me the exact same reading for our compatibility as it did for Quentin. He knew what the answer was just as much as I did. In my peripheral vision, I could see Ivy watching, mouth agape, and Nathan looking increasingly smug. I was glad Nathan and I were incompatible.

Quentin looked up and was about to say the word when I jumped in. ‘Eighty-two per cent.’

Ivy gasped. I had to refrain from shaking my head at her. Instead of being relieved for Quentin, she looked disappointed. By rating so well with me, it meant she couldn’t blame their neg result on him.