I feigned a sigh. ‘Look. You’re a neg,’ I said, ignoring the way he flinched at the word. ‘The second you turn on your Phera-tech again, you’ll tip over the three limit and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your flag will activate and then … you know the drill. You’ve got until the end of the month to register another rating. My advice, don’t turn it back on until you figure out what you’re going to do.’
His eyes were so wide they were mostly white. ‘I can’t do that.’ He pressed his lips together. ‘My family.’
I gave him a considering look, as if measuring him up. ‘Your family will understand,’ I said.
He swallowed. ‘We both know that’s not true.’
We did.
I pulled a stick of gum out of my pocket and popped it in my mouth. ‘Sorry, not my problem.’
His eyes flashed. ‘Just getting a kick out of delaying the inevitable then?’ he said bitterly.
I took my time, watching as the fear and hopelessness continued to seep into him. It was all on the line and every second that passed intensified his desperation. Finally, I let out the breath I was holding. ‘I might know a way I could help you.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You can’t cheat the system!’
I leaned into him, just like he had done to me on the steps earlier that morning.
‘If you want to be all high and mighty, go for it. Turn on your Phera-tech. Take a few ratings. It’ll give you something to talk about over the dinner table tonight.’ And with that I left him standing in the hall, knowing that if I hadn’t covered for him in there, he would already be under neg suspicion. But then, as I stalked down the hall, I cringed. Because if it hadn’t have been for me, Quentin Mercer would not have rated negative at all.
Six
Half running to work that afternoon, I wondered how long it would be before I saw Quentin again.
If he’d had enough guts to turn his Phera-tech back on, he’d know by now that the earlier readings had been bogus. The disruption chemicals he’d inhaled at school would’ve already stopped affecting him.
Still, I had to wait for him to come to me. If I appeared too keen, he’d know something was up.
I entered the Clarendon M-Store. Even the glaring white light and wall-to-wall light boxes couldn’t suppress the feeling of darkness that came over me the moment I crossed the threshold. I hated working there, but being on staff at the M-Corp accessory and products store for the past year had served my needs. I had access to tech training, company manuals and their staff computer systems. It didn’t get me access to the good stuff, but small things were helpful every now and then. The biggest thing the job had given me was Gus. He was the head M-Band programmer at the store and if I hadn’t been stuck there working the register late one night, I never would’ve caught – or recorded – his illicit M-Band trade in the back alley.
Gus was anxiously awaiting my arrival in his back room office.
‘You’re late,’ he said by way of greeting. He had changed out of his suit and back into his thrifty-style thigh-hugging pants, with an orange T-shirt and skinny grey tie. He was also sporting his favourite tweed fedora.
‘I’m so sorry, Arlington bus and metro mustn’t have received your weekly schedule,’ I snarled. He knew I came straight to work from school yet he persisted in making my start times impossible.
‘So?’ he prompted, ignoring my comment.
I looked over my shoulder as I hung up my bag. ‘So, everything is on track. He’s hooked. Now we have to wait.’
‘And?’
I blinked. ‘And what?’
‘We both know and what, Miss Excuse-me-while-I-beep-up-a-storm.’
I moved into the curtained excuse for a change room to put on my work clothes. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I called out.
I heard the creak of Gus leaning back in his chair. ‘Quinny’s kinda dreamy, isn’t he?’ he goaded.
‘Leave it, Gus.’
He scoffed. ‘No way in hell. You got a rating, and we both know there was only one active M-Band in that room besides yours at that time. Was that your heart-rate alert I heard go off in there?’ He sounded so smug.
Bastard.
Even after seeing what we’d managed to achieve with Quentin, Gus still had faith in the system that I hated. I pushed back the curtain and stormed out, throwing my bag under the table as I settled a steely glare in his direction. ‘Just do your part and stay out of the rest. I’ve got work to do,’ I growled. Ignoring his laughter, I moved past him to the shop area where I aimlessly served customers wanting the latest M-Band accessory zips. Right now calorie counters and 3D self-hologram projectors were all the rage.
To my disappointment, I didn’t hear from Quentin while I was at work. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to track down my M-Band number if he’d wanted to call me. I even kept my M-band cell on active when I stopped into my local Muay Thai centre for my scheduled fight.
I smiled as I walked into the seedy gym that had come to feel like a home away from home. Like many relationships, Master Rua’s and mine was not based on smooth – or welcome – beginnings. But he knew about the tunnels, which was why I’d begged, then bribed, him to train me. He even knew who I was looking for, which made him one of the few I trusted. Almost.
‘You’re late,’ Master Rua said when he saw me. At first look he seemed like an aged, unassuming man who, apart from a couple of tribal-style tattoos on his dark skin, appeared gentle in every way. You got a different image once you copped one of his roundhouse kicks.
I looked beyond his shoulder; there was a decent crowd sitting around, clearly unimpressed.
‘Weren’t there any other fights tonight?’ I asked.
‘Three. They finished fifteen minutes ago. If you didn’t bring in a good crowd I’d stop booking you, Maggie,’ he said sharply.
I held my chin up even though I felt bad. This was his business and, despite what he thought, I respected that.
‘I got here as soon as I could,’ I said.
He shook his head, but the small lift in the corner of his mouth gave him away and I knew we were good.
‘That Pre-Evo guy came in and trained here again today,’ he said, walking me towards the ring. I would’ve liked a chance to loosen up, but I’d kept people – and their money – waiting long enough. Besides, I knew who my competitor was tonight and I didn’t really need the warm-up.
‘And?’ I dropped my bag and started stripping off my outer layer.
He opened his mouth to respond, but then gestured to my feet. ‘You’re limping,’ he said.
‘Only a bit,’ I replied with a shrug.
He shook his head again. ‘He asked after you,’ he explained as I pulled on my ankle supports. ‘Normally I throw anyone who asks after my people out on the street, but he seems genuine. We talked for a while. He wants to meet you.’
I’d been doing the underworld circuit for a while. I wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t a major surprise the Pre-Evo guy had pulled my name from somewhere. ‘I don’t do team sports, you know that,’ I said, stretching and noticing my opponent had taken up position in the ring. I’d beaten him the last time we’d faced off so he would be out to prove something tonight. It would help keep the fight short. A good thing, since I didn’t have time to spare.
I held out my hands for Master Rua to slip on my gloves. He glanced up at me, his eyes telling a story of time and knowledge and, right then, concern. ‘You should think about it. Alex is high up in their group.’
‘Alex?’ I asked, my interest suddenly piqued.
Master Rua nodded.
Alex was the name of the Preference Evolution’s leader. Coincidence? Unlikely. ‘Maybe one day, but not yet,’ I said, jumping into the ring and effectively finishing the conversation.
I won the fight, and a financial boost, before the second bell. I was out of there within ten minutes of walking through the doors.
As I arrived home, I replayed the events of the day. Had I
played Quentin wrong? Made a mistake? Should I have tried to be nice? Pretended to care? Had I used the disruption chemicals for nothing?
With a huff, I pushed the front door closed, having to give it my shoulder before I heard it click in place.
‘Mags, is that you?’ Mom called out from the kitchen.
‘Yes.’ I followed her voice.
‘I’d been starting to wonder where you had gotten to,’ she said.
‘Got held up on the Metro,’ I lied. The fight hadn’t taken long, but I’d detoured via our local realtor to pay the additional monthly rent on our house. When we’d first moved to Arlington, there was no way I was going to let Mom live in the types of places her budget could really afford. Not that she needed to know. And the shifty realtor hadn’t cared as long as he got his money.
Mom smiled and continued pressing down pastry over a bowl, creating fork imprints. ‘I’m making chicken and potato pie,’ she beamed.
I smiled back, noticing that Mom’s pants were hanging off her waist. We both had a similar tall and lean figure. But where she was gaunt and fragile, I had more muscle. From there we were quite different. Mom’s eyes were large and blue in contrast to my brown ones, and she had refined features that benefited from makeup whereas mine were just … there. Unfortunately, it had been a long time since Mom had had the opportunity to get dressed up.
She took as many shifts at the hospital as she could get, but even then, a nurse’s wage wasn’t great. I knew she’d secretly taken on a couple of weekend cleaning jobs as well, which made me want to scream.
Mom’s extra hours weren’t just about keeping up with the everyday bills. No, it was so much more. For those people who were labelled as negs and moved out of society, well, there was the problem of how to settle all of their outstanding debts and taxes. That task fell to their remaining family members.
It was a great way of ensuring families would resent their ‘neg’ relations rather than fight for their freedom. It had definitely worked that way for Mom – Dad’s unexplainable switch from being an acceptable seventy per cent match with Mom to a full neg with everyone in just one day left her believing he had done something so unforgivable it had literally changed his chemical makeup.
Living in a small town had made it impossible to escape the rumour mill. One day Mom just started packing, changed our surname to her maiden name and told us to get in the car. It wasn’t long before Sam and I figured out that her plan had not extended beyond mass exodus. I’d seized the opportunity and suggested Arlington.
Watching her load the pie into the oven, I wished yet again that she’d see past the tech and to the truth. But Mom was a true supporter of Phera-tech, always keeping hers in active mode. I knew she still held out hope that there was a long-term match out there for her. Dad’s wasn’t the only life that had been stolen.
‘Sounds great, Mom,’ I said softly, more than prepared to eat the pie I knew she was about to burn. ‘Is Sam here?’ I asked, even though I didn’t need to.
‘He left for work a few hours ago.’ The moment he’d turned twenty-one, my brother had taken a job at a local club well known for its black-market trade in lust-enhancers. Sam had barely been around before, but now … he had the perfect excuse to avoid anything family-related.
Mom looked up suddenly. ‘I think he might’ve met a girl.’
‘That’s hardly news,’ I mumbled. Sam wasn’t opposed to using lust-enhancers himself. Working like an outward aphrodisiac, they zeroed in on lust-matches and improved them for short bursts. They also sent the signal out over a wider radius, covering more ground in a nightclub atmosphere. It gave people an edge and seemed to contain some chemical that heightened … sexual needs.
‘A girl who rates high,’ she added.
‘Huh.’ That was interesting.
Mom’s eyes suddenly lit up. ‘I almost forgot, how did your upgrade go?’
I dug into my pocket. ‘It was fine, and no, I haven’t changed my mind about keeping my tech active,’ I explained as I pulled out a small handful of cash. It wasn’t everything I’d earned today, but it would help for a few weeks.
‘Here,’ I said, putting it on the bench. ‘Take a few shifts off this week, Mom. Rest.’
Mom blushed and looked away. ‘Oh, Mags.’
I’d wanted to distract her, not make her cry.
‘Mom, please. I got a bonus at work so don’t worry. I’m still putting all my other wages into my college fund,’ I lied. ‘Please, just take it.’
She sniffed and swiped at an escaping tear. I felt my rising anger at the state of our lives. I needed to put distance between us. ‘I’ve got to study, Mom. Call me when dinner’s ready and …’ I glanced around the kitchen. Mom had used pretty much every utensil and square inch of bench space. ‘I’ll clean up.’
Mom focused on setting the timer on the oven. ‘Okay, honey.’
I headed out the back door and towards the garage, letting my stride finally settle into a weary limp, accommodating for the pain still jarring my left butt-cheek thanks to my excursion earlier in the week. I had a bad feeling I hadn’t pulled out all of the gravel.
When I was in my room, I settled in to do my homework. I had to stay on top of the workload if I planned on keeping my place at Kingly’s.
But it wasn’t long before my thoughts drifted back to the plan. Sometimes, despite my bravado, I felt so out of my depth. All I knew was that I wanted to find Dad more than anything. I missed him so much, everyday. He was the one person who always made me feel like I could do anything.
Now that I had started the ball in motion, I knew there was no turning back. Dad was down there somewhere and if my worst suspicions – the ones I rarely allowed myself to consider – were true, his life had become worse than any other neg’s hell.
Why hadn’t Quentin contacted me yet? I’d been so sure …
I snapped closed my laptop and rolled onto my back, exhaling. I had so many questions I didn’t know I’d ever find the answers to. Where was Dad? Was he even alive? Why had he suddenly turned neg? Had someone done that to him? And if so, why?
Arriving at school the next day was like walking onto Wall Street. The amount of trades and payoffs being made due to the Quentin / Ivy mismatch were huge. Arguments were in full flight with bookies out of cash. I smiled, walking through it all. I’d been smart enough to get my payout yesterday.
I could hear people murmuring out the front, whispering about what had happened in the upgrade room – that Quentin had tested neg twice. More than a few people took the time to give me a long stare: the girl who had rated over eighty per cent with the M-Corp heir. I ignored them, and kept to my normal routine – the one that usually guaranteed invisibility. Unfortunately, I suspected my days of remaining unseen were now behind me.
Head down, I took the steps to the main doors, only to be stopped in my tracks. I looked up and couldn’t stop the small gasp. I’d been so anxious about seeing him that I’d forgotten to actually keep my eye out.
I quickly forced my expression back to neutral, not that Quentin seemed to notice my slip-up. His eyes were dark rimmed, probably from lack of sleep, his stance tense.
‘Everyone expects me to talk to you,’ he stated, barely making eye contact.
He meant because of our so-called high rating. It would be crazy for such a score to go by unexplored. Eighty-two per cent put us squarely into long-term match territory. I’d chosen the figure for that very reason – ensuring it wouldn’t seem too strange if we started to spend time together.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot.
When I didn’t respond, his eyes finally connected with mine and I couldn’t help but notice the dark line that encircled his green irises. ‘I know we’re not … you know … That I’m a …’ He took a deep breath, unable to say the word ‘neg’, and I couldn’t help but feel a tightening in my chest.
Yes, guilt.
Something I just had to deal with.
‘You said that you could … You might
be able to …?’ His voice, along with his eyes, dropped away.
‘Have you turned on your Phera-tech since yesterday?’ I asked, working to keep my voice unaffected.
He shook his head.
I let go of the breath I’d been holding, not entirely sure if my relief was about the plan or for myself.
‘We can talk, but only if I have your word that you will never use any of this against me. You’re a Mercer after all.’ I couldn’t hold back the judgement as I hissed the last words at him.
For some reason my attack seemed to settle him, as if it brought him back into familiar territory. Maybe he was used to people pigeonholing him. He threw out a sardonic grin. ‘Do I look like I’m in a position to use anything against you of all people?’
My return smirk was equally mocking. He was so right. The upper hand was right where I had put it – with me.
‘After school?’ he prompted.
I shook my head. ‘I’ve got work. Lunchtime.’
He scouted the immediate area nervously, weighing up whether he wanted to be seen with me or not. According to the rest of the school we might’ve rated well, but he was still an M-Corp heir and I was still … me. His desperation clearly won out because he gave a curt nod and said, ‘Grass by the track.’
Arrogant bastard didn’t give me a chance to agree or disagree, he just spun around and stalked down the hall, making me question yet again what I was getting myself into with Quentin Mercer.
Seven
Ivy had wasted no time, rumours already spreading like wildfire that she had rated high with one of her older brother’s friends the night before. It shouldn’t have surprised me when I saw her avoid Quentin in the halls between classes – neg ratings were designed to forewarn people about volatile personality combinations. But still, I was amazed. Had she forgotten so quickly that the two of them had been the perfect couple for the past year? Had she forgotten how she’d hung off his every word?
I shook my head at my naivety. Of course she had. That was the entire point of the ratings system. And Quentin was no different, barely noticing her himself – but then again, his response seemed to be more natural than premeditated.