Authors: Michele Jaffe
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.”
“What about—” the girl began to ask but was interrupted by Curtis’s return.
There was something about him, Sadie thought, that made the air feel more electric. He smiled and said, “Did you explain everything, Cat?”
Catrina gave him a look Sadie couldn’t quite fathom. It wasn’t flirtatious, although her ears had gone pink at the sound of his voice. It looked more like… relief. She said, “Yes. We’re all done with the preliminaries.”
Curtis smiled, crooked a finger at the group, and said, “Then it must be time to get naked. Follow me.”
• • •
After the tour, orientation became a mix between summer camp and the most invasive physical Sadie could imagine. When Curtis had said they were going to get naked he hadn’t been joking, although Sadie learned with relief it was more the kind of nakedness that involved baring your soul rather than your skin.
Sadie spent the next two days immersed in CAT scans, MRIs, fMRIs, electrocardiograms, radiocardiograms, blood tests, hearing tests, vision tests, and tests for strength, endurance, and respiratory health. There had also been basic self-hypnosis tips and a course on “Maintaining a Mental Notebook,” since they would have to memorize all their observations while in stasis. Sadie and Flora had been assigned as a team in an exercise the second morning of orientation, and their tension from the first day had been overpowered by the shared goal of winning.
“Three o’clock,” Flora said as they walked away from the coffee cart near the stasis chamber. “Only an hour left of orientation.”
Sadie blew on her coffee. “I wish we could start Syncopy tonight, without going home.”
Flora raised an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t you want one more good makeout session with Pete?” She stopped herself. “Sorry, I forgot you only have eyes for Hot Curtis now.”
Sadie laughed. “Speak for yourself.”
Flora shook her head. “Catrina is more my type.”
“I’m afraid you might not be hers,” Sadie said apologetically. “I think she and Curtis are a couple.”
Flora waved that away. “For expediency, maybe, but not really. Trust me.”
Sadie wasn’t sure. She’d gotten lost the previous night on her way to dinner and ended up in the oval room with the Stas-Cases. She’d been walking the perimeter looking for corridor G when she heard voices and realized it was Curtis and Catrina talking.
As she came up Curtis was saying, “I’m simply suggesting we consider protection.”
“Protection,” Catrina sniffed.
Sadie stood rooted to the floor, unable to move.
“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Curtis said emphatically, “but we need to be careful. Minimize the risks. I want to make sure we’re safe.”
“I understand. It just feels like you’re pushing me away.” Catrina’s tone was measured and cool, but obviously it didn’t mean she didn’t care, just that she was thoughtful. Sadie wished Pete or her father could hear her. Maybe then they’d understand that not everyone oozed emotion.
Curtis was soothing. “You know that’s not what is going on. I’m doing this for us. And it’s only temporary.”
Snapping back into her conversation with Flora, Sadie said, “I overheard them talking, and they definitely seemed to be involved.”
“Maybe for now,” Flora said with a shrug. “Nothing lasts forever.”
Sadie laughed. “I’ll concede if you’ll tell me how to get to office D-210.”
Flora turned Sadie so she was facing the direction opposite the one she’d been about to walk in and said, “Go straight past three corridors and turn left. I’ll see you in the Survaillab for closing remarks.”
“If I find it,” Sadie said.
Flora’s instructions were perfect, and Sadie was pressing the admittance bell next to D-210 at exactly three o’clock.
The appointment had appeared on her TrackUPad that morning with no explanation, so she didn’t know what to expect. She felt a surge of pleasure when the door slid open and she saw Curtis sitting with his feet on a desk, in the middle of what sounded like a personal call.
“Just steer clear, that’s all I’m asking.” He motioned Sadie into his office. “This isn’t the time for one of your little games.”
His desk was sleek and modern in dark wood, the two low chairs facing it at precise right angles covered in buff suede. Three brightly colored old-fashioned tin wind-up toys in the shape of a tiger, an elephant, and a bear playing the cymbals sat on one corner of the desk, and a computer sat on the other. Behind it hung a framed vintage poster from the movie
Metropolis
. The space felt warm with a hint of edge, just like Curtis himself.
He gestured Sadie into a chair facing him as he got off the phone, then smiled an apology. “Sorry, family drama. How has orientation been? I don’t think I’ve been lucky enough to catch sight of you since that first day.”
Sadie willed herself not to blush and said, “Orientation has been somewhat disorienting, actually.”
He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “That sounds about right. And I’m afraid I’m only going to exacerbate that.” His feet came off the desk, and he leaned across it toward her.
“Why?” Sadie asked, trying not to get distracted by the pleasantly subtle scent of his cologne.
“We don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll cut right to it. I’ve decided to start an elite program within Mind Corps, and I want you to be part of it.”
Sadie suddenly had no trouble focusing. “Elite in what way?”
“We’re selecting a few Fellows to be Minders for Subjects who have been tagged as high risk. Either they’ve been arrested and served time, or they’ve come close. By targeting them, we want to understand how crime can spread from an individual to blight an entire neighborhood. But Syncopy with these Subjects exposes Minders to strains others don’t face. So we’re only picking the best of the best.”
Sadie’s heart thudded against her ribs. “What kinds of strains?”
“These Subjects are more likely to repress their feelings and memories than deal with them. Repression is like a magician, using smoke screens and big spectacles to distract you from its secrets. That takes a lot of work, so these minds may be more unstable, more like living in a minefield.” He paused. “The other difference is that instead of being posted in an unfamiliar community, your Subject would be here in City Center. Only a half hour from your home. Which means we would need to rely even more heavily on your maturity and integrity.” He leaned back. “What do you think? Would you be comfortable with that?”
City Center.
Impressions from her photography class trip flooded Sadie’s mind. She remembered passing houses, stores, and skyscrapers that had been completely abandoned, whole neighborhoods silent except for ghostly wind; other streets so densely packed with people that the sidewalks spilled into traffic and the intersections became a matted knot of cars and people, the air thick with curses and honking.
Their bus had gotten caught in one of those intersections, and Sadie was staring out the window when a fight broke out between two guys. A clot of people formed around the fighters, and between the heads of the crowd, Sadie watched them pound each other. Raw, visceral energy came off them in waves so potent that she’d felt them even through the double-paned window of the bus, making every sensation, every color, more intense.
What would it be like to experience that firsthand?
she asked herself now. The sensation of knuckles cracking against bone, of fury overriding all reason, of being filled with so much powerful emotion.
She remembered the beautiful ruin of the building they’d photographed earlier that same day. Remembered standing on the edge of the seventeenth floor and forcing herself to look down, fingers of panic closing around her throat, making her struggle for breath, petrified with fear.
Not, as she’d told Curtis in her interview, because she was afraid of falling. That was a lie.
It was jumping she was afraid of. Becoming so numb she didn’t care any longer.
Now, sitting in Curtis’s office, she realized she was nodding. She said, “Yes. If you’re asking would I be willing to go through Syncopy inside the mind of a criminal, the answer is yes.”
Curtis held up a hand. “A
potential
criminal. Not hardened, not yet, but still the kind of person I’d tell you to steer clear of if you were my sister. I want to be certain you really understand what I’m asking. This person will be almost your exact opposite. Someone with no respect for rules or laws, possibly no code of conduct or loyalty, and very likely a disordered internal landscape. There’s a high probability of violence. Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”
“Absolutely.”