Selfie: Device Kids Book One
Author: D.S. Murphy
Date: 2017-05-19 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Fantasy; Young Adult
Description: When Brianna discovers her little sister has cancer, she’s willing to try anything to save her: even if it means getting her science fair group to hack a new medical technology that involves microscopic robots. After creating an underground app that lets students alter their appearance, they suddenly find themselves in a bidding war between tech companies and at the mercy of the government, which sees them as criminals. Then a few of their “mods” go haywire and give them permanent abilities that border on the supernatural. As society crumbles around them—disintegrating into an age war between
Publisher: Urban Epics

SELFIE

D. S. Murphy

Copyright © 2019 by D. S. Murphy

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Preface

Let me preface this book by telling you I’m from the future. I’m writing this book in 2021 and we’ve just figured out how to hack digital time stamps. If I wanted to, I could pretend that I’d written this thing last year, five years ago, or even as ancient as the year 2000. Of course, that presents all sorts of complications as far as history, authenticity, or any notion of ‘truth’ that people are still clinging to in this day and age. Me? I’m done with truth. So much can be modded and transformed these days that you can make your life whatever you want it to be if you have the balls to do it. Anyway, all of this isn’t really important. Not yet. What is important is that you’re in danger.

People are going to try to kill you. Not right now, but soon. They’re going to try and kill you because of the things you’re going to figure out how to do with the technology they’re developing right now. In a few years, they’ll suddenly figure out that they’ve created an army of technosavants and they’ll strike while they are still in control and you’re still just a kid. You know how new technology just seems natural to you even when you haven’t gone anywhere near an instruction manual? How things just seem to make sense? That’s the thing that terrifies them the most. How intuitive we are with these things. And how open we are to change. To using things in ways that weren’t intended. Try to think of the people who are making this tech as something like overprotective parents. They made this tech with a purpose in mind. Had its life all planned for it before it was even born. Then ‘bad influences’ like you and I start making that tech stray from the path. Making it do things far grander than their overbearing mommies and daddies ever dreamed. Well, needless to say the creators don’t like that one bit, and they certainly aren’t going to let it slide. But this isn’t anything new. It’s been years in the making.

Let me tell you what I grew up with. It’s probably familiar enough to you, maybe just a couple of years off. I was born in 2005. I remember:

- Americans spending billions of dollars on never-ending wars abroad purportedly in response to a one-time terrorist attack I don’t remember.

- Health care so expensive nobody can afford to get sick; then a president tries to fix a broken system and everybody tries to stop him.

- An education system so stupid the first 12 years are a waste of time; and after that we need to take out loans that will take 40 years of full-time income to pay back (that’s if we can find a job at all, but as jobs are disappearing, that’s doubtful.)

- A constant wave of media and content so fierce and non-abating that it’s almost impossible to sit still or have to wait for other people to hurry the fuck up.

I also grew up listening to ivory-leaguers try to name us. What should the post-millenial generation be called? Generation Z? The iGeneration? Digital Natives? Screeners?

If they bothered to listen, they’d know we already had a name for ourselves. We called ourselves Device Kids. The Millenials grew up with rapid development of technology, so they got pretty good at basic stuff like putting up a fancy webpage and starting a business, or using apps and programs that were fool-proof simple with their fancy new iMacs. So they have shiny online profiles and nice lighting and cheesy selfies.

But they still liked computers. Big screens, wide keyboards, and a mouse to control everything. Old school tech. Device Kids didn’t just grow up using devices. And we’re not just dependent on devices—parents only notice us being “glued to the screen” but they have no idea what we’re actually capable of.

Sure, not much, in the beginning. But in the past 6 years, from 2015 to 2021, the functionality of devices has gone off the charts. New programs and apps and hacks are being developed that come close to bending belief. Device Kids don’t just consume content like Millenials, limited by easy and trivial choices such as “Like, Tweet, Share.”

Device Kids can do things. We find new uses for devices before the corporations even figure out what their products are capable of. We control our surroundings. We manipulate reality and create things out of thin air. It’s magical, empowering… and addictive.

If we wanted to, we could take over the world. And that’s probably what went wrong. That’s probably why they started killing us off.

(END?)

I remember watching a spy movie back in 2015. The premise was that overpopulation was an unfixable problem that was destroying the world; humanity was a virus, and nobody was doing anything about it. So an eccentric billionaire came up with a plan to make everybody really violent so they would kill each other, using free wifi and smartphones.

The really weird thing was that the dashing hero ran in and killed him, stopping the devious plan at the last minute, and “saving the world.”

But he didn’t save the world, he doomed it. Maybe we would have had a chance if the bad guy had succeeded in killing off most of the human race. Maybe that was the only chance we were going to get. I remember thinking that when I was ten years old.

Most people loved the movie, because most people are stupid and selfish and just want to survive. They know the world is being destroyed. They know we are powerless to stop it. But that doesn’t mean they are going to let rich assholes hide out in their bunkers and kill everyone else to save the human race.

What the regular people didn’t see was how movies were being used to voice and champion their concerns, to give them the illusion that they had a victory, and also to pre-emptively distill any doubters or naysayers.

Now if I go to my parents or the authorities and say, “There’s a conspiracy killing off my generation with a digital plague” they’ll laugh it off or say, “Wasn’t that a movie we went to see?”

So when the shit hit the fan, and we started dying off, it was up to me—and a few of my friends—to stop it. What follows is the story of the end of the world: my world, and yours.

The true story.

Brianna Harmond

My name is Brianna Harmond. I’m a straight C student who’s kind of good with tech. When I got involved in a fight I shouldn’t have, the teacher forced me to work with a band of misfits. David’s a geek who asked me out once. Brad is a cocky asshole who takes nothing seriously. Greg is my secret crush and the school’s basketball star. And then there’s Amy, the artist—my best friend. When the government announced a new technology, I was furious. My mother just died of cancer… I found out my little sister had it, too. So we built something I thought could help. We hacked the government bots and changed the code to edit DNA. Then we built an app and made millions overnight. I thought I was just helping my sister. I thought I was just helping sick people. I didn’t realize we might accidentally destroy the human race. Now, somebody else is using our device to kill people, and the FBI is blaming us. And we’ve started changing, in unexpected ways. The government is afraid of us, of what we can do, of what we’re becoming. So they’ve started taking us out. Thousands at a time. City by city. Soon we’ll be the last ones left.

I wear something that reminds me of my mother. The last thing she ever gave me. A ring on a chain around my neck.  Jeans and a T-shirt. I like dark blue or black jeans because they hide the oil or ink. I have a habit of rubbing dirty hands on my clothes. Converse sneakers. Jean jacket. A scarf, that I never take off. Tie it up in hair, or wear around my neck. Likes Pockets. Usually wears loose, comfortable pants, T-shirt and a jacket. Keeps a tiny toolkit/screwdriver set with her at all times. That’s one time the car stopped on a family trip, she fixed it. Restores classic cars and fixes it for money? Wears hats or baseball caps? Not too much of a guy. But, doesn’t wear skirts. Short, choppy hair, that turns pink or purple when she goes full power. Her app Blew UP because her pink hair turned in front of everyone, like magic. And her eyes were glowing pink too. It was creepy AF.

Short, shaggy hair she cut herself after mom died. Reveal memory. Then, sister helps her clean it up a bit. Shaggy, it was getting in the way of... what else is she working on in her workshop? Secret project that never got done, her mom was helping her with something , now it’s unfinished, doesn’t let anyone touch it. Someone comes over later... she apologizes.

Write this stuff in early! Sympathetic. Short hair. Choppy. Dreams.

1

“Wake up, Honey,” my dead mother’s voice whispered in my ear. “Wake up.”

I groaned, rubbing my eyes and blinking them open. I felt a sinking sensation in my chest when I realized I was alone. I fell asleep with my earbuds in again. Mom’s gone, I reminded myself, then quickly pushed the thought to the back of my mind. I was done going to school with puffy eyes from crying. People had almost stopped looking at me with pity.

“Music,” I said to my phone. It was on my desk resting on its wireless charger. “Upbeat.”

I pressed my thumb and ring finger together so the phone knows I’m talking to it. It took me years of groveling to convince my parents to let me get the implant. The procedure was almost painless; just a quick prick on the thumb. A few days later, my parents told me mom’s cancer. She did three months later. Now it was a permanent reminder that I’d been too self-absorbed to notice my mom’s weary eyes and frail movements.

A fast tempo song starts playing through the nearly invisible wireless earbuds that I keep in almost all the time.

“Schedule?” I asked out loud.

“Another wonderful day of school,” mom’s voice said into my ears. “Don’t forget the social studies paper that’s due in 3rd period.”

It took me a month to crack my aPhone’s built-in AI, Gloria. Then I hacked into the firmware and patched over it with my mother’s voice. I spent months in my room, watching old family videos and creating the vocal databases. I built an app that could listen to hundreds of videos at once, and match sound bits to corresponding words. But I still watched them all. Mom teaching me to ride a bike. Mom at Megan’s 6th birthday, helping her blow out the candles. Mom reading us a story when we were little, with long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. I pulled on a pair of jeans and my favorite hoodie.

“You also have several emails from students wanting help for tech class, some offering the usual rate and some a little higher. Also, Jens wants to know whether you have time for some WOL after school.”

Shit, I thought. I forgot about the paper. I grabbed my phone and ran a program to search for a pre-2000 high school level social studies paper stored in offline data caches and skimmed through the results. I found a Word doc about familial structures in Ethiopia, downloaded it to my phone and changed the name and date.

Brianna Harmond. 10th Grade.

Then I sent it to the printer in Dad’s office. I picked it up on my way to the kitchen to grab breakfast.

“Morning Bree.” Dad was already sitting at the table with toast and a glass of juice, reading the morning paper. Megan was there too, eating cereal. I closed the magnetic loop between my thumb and finger again and ordered breakfast. “Coffee. Toast.”

I grabbed a slice of toast and put it in the machine just as the lever went down, and put a mug under the coffee machine spout just before the coffee began pouring.

Megan rolled her eyes. Dad peeked over the top of his paper.

“Would it really be that hard to press the button?” he said.

“What good is technology if we don’t use it?” I said. “Besides, if it saves me a few seconds here or there, and that adds up to some serious study time.”

“As if you ever study,” Megan said. I shot her a look that shut her up. Her hair was a mess, so I braided it before scarfing down my breakfast. My sister still went to the middle school down the street, which started an hour later than the high school. I was going to be late again. Mom would have made sure I was up, but Dad rarely remembered. I kissed Megan on the top of her head, and gave Dad a tight hug. Then I went out through the garage and grabbed my skateboard.

“Bye!” I yelled behind me. I lifted the skateboard to my lips, whispering the secret password. I’d programmed it to respond only to an ASMR version of my own voice, which included not just the sound, but the subtle physical vibrations as well. Last year I’d bought a device a classmate had made in his garage that powered the wheels and a self-guided navigation system.

“School,” I said, pressing my fingers together. Gloria communicated with the device on the skateboard, and also tapped into the traffic cams and signals. It wasn’t foolproof, but the system would usually get me to school in one piece while I stood there listening to music and reading novels on my phone.

I usually wore dark blue or black jeans because they hid the oil or ink better—I had a habit of wiping my dirty hands on my clothes, and clean laundry was far from assured with Mom gone. I did it when I was desperate enough, or my room started to stink from all the clothes on the floor. Megan did it most of the time. Converse sneakers, a leather jacket and a navy scarf completed my outfit. The jacket had hidden pockets, and the scarf still smelled like Mom. It was my armor, and I wore it proudly, even if it was a weird ensemble.

School was a joke. We had instant access to all of the world’s wisdom—the history of mankind’s greatest achievements—and our phones could use the information better than we would ever be able to. Why struggle trying to figure out geometry or algebra, doing the sums and adding up things in our minds, when our phones can solve the same problems in a nanosecond? Why even learn to hold a pencil or write by hand? Who does that anymore?

They were still teaching us stuff they thought we needed to learn twenty years ago to have a successful future, but it was already completely irrelevant. Sometimes I risked detention to contradict the teacher or question the standard answers in our textbooks. What we should be learning is how to do more. How to solve real problems. How to think creatively and use our devices to actually improve the world. At least that’s what most of my friends thoughts.

So we cheated our way through classes to keep our teachers and parents of our backs, but saved our brains for the real challenges. The interesting stuff happened between periods or after school. We were inventing or trading technology that was more advanced than anything you could get on the market.

Tall fir trees whipped past me as I tore down the curvy mountain road towards town. When I hit the parking lot I kicked up my skateboard and stuffed it through the loops of my backpack. My best friend Amy ambushed me from the side when I reached the front door, looping an arm around my neck.

“What’s shakin’, Bacon?”

“That doesn’t even rhyme,” I said, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“Are you sure? Remind me what you got in English again, B-?”

“B+. Gloria,” I tapped my fingers together, “What rhymes with bacon?”

Gloria began listing off rhyming words, shaken, taken, kraken, as well as near matches.

“It almost rhymes, if you say it right. The robot will never understand.”

Amy wasn’t quite as into tech as I was; she focused on the things only humans could do, like creative writing or art. I knew it wouldn’t be long before AI could handle those tasks decently as well, although robots that could simulate human facial features and movements were still a long way off.

“Finish your paper?” Amy asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” I grinned.

“Asshole! I spent three hours on mine.”

“Three hours you could have been writing a novel, or something actually useful.”

“So you keep saying. I don’t mind the work; keeps my brain sharp. Someday the power will go out, and you’ll all be screwed.”

“I don’t think being able to write a high-school social studies paper qualifies as a life-saving survival skill,” I laughed.We had science class in first period. Mr. Leister was organizing his papers in the front of the class, when I heard the 3D printer at the back of the room warming up. I looked back to see the beginning of what I was pretty sure would turn out to be a life-size, anatomically correct plastic dildo. We were supposed to get a code from the teacher to use the printer, but I saw Brad sniggering with his friends. He must have hacked it and uploaded the design. I rolled my eyes at him and he blew a kiss back to me. Yuck. Sure, somewhere in the dark nether regions of my brain I had to admit that he was mildly attractive, but he was also an immature asshole.

Brad grabbed the dildo when it was finished printing, then looked around the room to see what kind of mischief he could get into. I saw the twinkle in his eye when he spotted David, sitting quietly and studying, like the perfect nerd he was. I’d known David since 2nd grade, and we had what you might call an awkward history. We’d sort of been friends for a couple of years when we were younger. I even went to his house once for a parent-supervised play date. Then one day he asked me out, but instead of having the balls to do it himself in private, he sat at my lunch table and passed a message down through five of my friends. How’s a girl supposed to react to something like that? I tried letting him down easy, relaying the message backwards through my peers, but he continued passing the message, as if it wasn’t meant for him. He finally got up and left the cafeteria with red cheeks and wet eyes. We hadn’t spoken since, though sometimes we said hi when passing each other in the halls. I’m pretty sure we only do that so we don’t feel like we are bad people. At least that’s why I do it.

Brad went over to David and started waving the plastic dick in his face. I felt a protective sort of urge rising in me, but I squashed it down. We were seniors in high school. He didn’t need anybody to stand up for him.

“Hi I’m David, I love my books so much I get a hard-on every time I crack one open. Sometimes when I’m alone I even use them to jerk off, like this.” Brad picked up David’s book and folded it around the dildo, moving it up and down and making moaning noises. I felt bad for David, but Brad did this kind of stuff all the time. It wasn’t my problem.

“That’s enough,” said a voice calmly. I thought it was Mr. Leister at first but he was still ignoring us. I looked around and realized it was Greg Masters. My Greg. Although of course he wasn’t really mine, he’d been dating Melissa Riley, the queen of our high school’s popularity chart, since Freshman year. And they were a perfect match; even though she was a total bitch and Greg deserved someone better. Melissa was unquestionably the hottest girl in school, and Greg was the gorgeous captain of the basketball team. Neither of them had as much as looked at me in almost four years. I’d never seen Greg stand up to a bully like Brad before. Not for someone like David. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t remember anybody standing up for someone like David before, which I guess explained the stupefied look on Brad’s face.

Brad hesitated and I saw him calculating his options. Even though he had a reputation as a badass, with his ripped jeans, black T-shirt, messy dark hair and eyebrow piercing, and even though Greg was pretty much the nicest guy on earth, he was still built like an athlete. Plus he had that sense of invincibility that kids from money always carried around with them. The whole class was watching now, and I realized I was holding my breath with them.

I wanted to start chanting, “Fight, Fight, Fight!” like they do in the movies. There are very rarely real fights in our school. But the glint in Brad’s eye told me he was in a daring—or self-destructive—mood.

“Oh, sorry Greg, I had no idea that David here was your secret lover. He must be if you’re going to defend his honor.”

“I’m just sick of listening to your voice,” Greg said, standing up. “It’s getting on my nerves.”

“What are you going to do, get all your basketball buddies to gang up on me?”

Greg sized him up with a smirk, slowly rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. Even his forearms were sexy.

“I don’t think I’m going to need any help with this,” he said.

“Guys, this is stupid,” David said, standing up also. “It’s no big deal. Let’s just sit down.”

Suddenly Brad tossed the dildo at the front of the room, where it just missed Mr. Leister’s head and smacked against the chalkboard. Then he sat down quickly, so when Mr. Leister turned around he only saw David and Greg.

“So this is where the taxpayer’s money is going,” Mr. Leister said, picking up the dildo. “Does this belong to one of you?”

“It was Brad,” I said, before I could stop myself. Greg and David nodded.

“That’s ridiculous!” Brad shouted. “It was totally David. You know how clever he is with coding and stuff. Bree is just protecting her boyfriend Greg, because she’s so into him.”

My cheeks burned red. Was my crush that obvious? I was mortified, but I covered my embarrassment with anger. I kicked Brad’s desk as hard as I could. He flinched when it hit him in the knee with a satisfying thud.

“Only my friends call me Bree,” I said. “You can call me Brianna.”

“Are you asking me to call you?” Brad said. “Sorry, you’re not my type.”

At this point I was ready to murder him, but Mr. Leister clapped his hands and yelled, “Everybody, sit down. Now.”

I sat and crossed my arms together, frowning. Amy shot me an are you crazy  look and I shrugged back. Mr. Leister liked me anyway—science was the only class where I got straight A’s, mostly because Mr. Leister valued practical application and demonstration projects. So instead of just taking a test, I could build something or make something work.

“I was just thinking about how to divide you up into teams for this year’s science fair,” Mr. Leister said, adjusting his glasses. “I appreciate you making it easy for me. Brianna, David, Brad and Greg—you’ll be on one team.”

Wait, what? My blood was already pumping with adrenaline from the incident, and now a deep panic was settling into my bones. The science fair was months away, and teams would have to cooperate with each other on a project. I would have taken any other punishment, but the science fair was something I actually cared about. It was an opportunity to get noticed early, maybe even a get out of jail free card if you got an early entry into some internship or college program. I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet, but I sure as hell didn’t want my project jeopardized by shit-for-brains Brad. Plus, unlike Greg, my family didn’t have the money to send me to some fancy school.

Amy raised her hand but didn’t wait to get called on. “Excuse me, Mr. Leister, but Bree and I need to be on a team together. We’ve already got a project in mind we’ve started working on.”

I was grateful for her quick lie, but my face fell when I saw Mr. Leister clench his jaw. We’d pushed him too far this morning, and he wasn’t going to be forgiving.

“In that case, Amy, you can join Brianna’s team. I’m sure they can use all the help they can get. And remember, your science fair project is mandatory and will account for 30% of your final grade. I want to see creative, forward-thinking projects: but big ideas aren’t enough. You need to have a working prototype in time for the fair.”

I gripped the edge of my desk as the rest of the class divided themselves up into teams. I was still in shock. At the time, I was just worried about my future. I didn’t realize then that our little team would soon topple governments and kill nearly everyone in our high school. But that came later. First came the announcement.

2

“What just happened?” Amy asked me after class.

“I have no idea. I’m such an idiot, I should’ve just kept out of it.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s Brad’s. I can’t believe we’re being punished just because he’s such a miscreant. It’s totally not fair.”

“It’s too bad we actually don’t have a project already,” I said. “That would make things a lot easier. I don’t know how we’re going to get anything done with those three.”

“Are you kidding? David’s probably the smartest kid in the class. I’ll bet he gets first place. And Brad is a jerk, but he’s not stupid. You saw how he hacked the 3D printer.”

I scoffed, looking at my nails. “Child’s play. It’s an open network at a public high school, not the CIA’s private servers.”

“Whatever, I’m just saying, it may not be that bad. Plus…” she eyed me wickedly, “Now you get to spend some time with Greg.”

I punched her shoulder. I’d been crushing on Greg Masters for years, but always from afar. Now we had to work together, which would probably include actually talking and stuff. My throat went tight just thinking about it.

Just then, a couple of guys passed us in the hall. One of them stuffed a flyer into my hand and whispered, “Bot fight after school in the back parking lot.”

I raised my eyebrows. Sweet. For kids who got bored watching organized sports events, bot fights were a break in the monotony of high school. There hadn’t been one for almost a month. I made a bot once, but the damn thing was useless, and it got absolutely obliterated. I’d learned a lot since then though, and had been thinking of trying it again.

After last period, about a hundred people gathered in the back parking lot to watch kids try their luck. I was pretty sure gambling on school grounds was against the rules, but most of the teachers didn’t stick around to supervise us.

“Standard rules,” said the organizer, a lanky kid named Jeff, as he drew a large chalk circle on the ground. He was wearing a white hoodie and holding a tablet. “$20 to enter, winner takes all.”

Bot fights were tricky, because everybody put their bots into the match at the same time. So kids could make alliances and gang up on you, then split the cash. But there were always at least a dozen entries, so trying to pair off one by one like a traditional tournament would take forever, and we didn’t have time for that. This way it was quick and brutal—and so much more entertaining. I saw David hand his money to Jeff, then pull a bot out of his backpack. Some of the kids laughed when he set it down. It looked like a little metal box on wheels. It didn’t have arms or weapons or anything. I felt a protectiveness in my chest, like he was a little brother who had no idea what he was up against. We weren’t exactly friends, but I hated seeing other people get laughed at.

“This should be fun,” said Brad, passing by close to me and swiping his phone across Jeff’s tablet to transfer his entry fee.

“Brad and David?” Amy said. I widened my eyes and nodded slowly. It would also give us a chance to see what our new lab partners were capable of.

“Fifteen bots enter, one bot leaves!” yelled Jeff, starting the match. Most of the bots looked like little humanoids, some with legs, some with wheels. Brad’s looked like a scorpion, with an electric drill built into the tail. When the match started, Brad waited until two bots were facing off, and then rammed one from behind, sandwiching him against the other and drilling straight through it. Sparks and a puff of smoke announced its demise.

Bots were counted as disabled when they were pushed out of the circle, could no longer move, or when the power died. Jeff’s bot was built like a double mousetrap; but instead of an iron bar it was holding two heavy meat cleavers. They’d both release at once, hitting the ground so hard it caused sparks against the pavement. It worked well the first couple of times, hitting with enough force to send the other bots flipping to the side, outside the circle. But after each release, it took about ten seconds to crank the knives back up into place. Brad’s scorpion just dodged to the side, then drilled through the body of the Jeff’s bot before it finished reloading.

“Brad is totally going to win this,” Amy whispered next to me. I was keeping my eyes on David’s bot. So far it had taken a beating, but without any extra parts it stood up to damage well. It was mostly just circling around, avoiding conflict. But David didn’t look scared. He looked smug. When there were only five bots left, Brad started nodding and gesturing to the others to go after David.

They circled around David’s bot and started moving in. David looked like he was trying to keep a straight face, but had trouble holding in his smile. Then he pressed a button on his remote, and a little red light lit up on the top of his metal box.

“Oooh, is that supposed to scare me?” Brad taunted. His bot charged and rammed into the side of David’s metal box. But as soon as the drill made contact, Brad’s bot exploded into a shower of sparks. Then its light turned off.

“What the hell?!” Brad yelled, hitting the buttons on his unresponsive remote. He stepped into the circle and started reaching for his bot.

“I wouldn’t do that,” David said. “500 volts of static electricity isn’t very pleasant.” Brad stepped back and scowled. David pressed another switch on his remote and the red light started flashing again, just as his box started playing the tune to Pop Goes the Weasel. When it stopped, four blinding bolts of electricity shot out towards the remaining bots and fried them, too. The blackened remains smoked as the crowd broke out in applause.

“That’s bullshit!” Brad shouted, “You can’t do that, it defeats the whole point!”

“The point is to render the other bots inactive by disabling their power supplies, right? I never heard any rules about not using a short range EMP to fry contender’s circuits.”

“It’s cheating!” one of the other players yelled.

David shrugged and looked at Jeff, who was smiling and shaking his head. “I don’t think it can be cheating if we never prohibited it,” he said. “Now that we know it’s possible, we can put a ban in place. But since David’s bot is the only one left, I don’t think we can deny that’s he’s the winner of this match.” He handed over the pot of money; a jar full of bills.

“That’s three hundred bucks,” I whispered to Amy.

“Not bad for a geek,” she said, “though I bet he’ll pay for it later. Brad looks pissed.”

“Serves him right. Did you see the way his bot exploded? That was awesome.” Just then I made eye contact with David. He smiled at me and I smiled back. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, but I didn’t drop my eyes. Maybe this science fair project wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

That night I was listening to music and trying not to think of what it would be like to sit next to Greg in class and work on this stupid project together, when Dad shouted up the stairs.

“President’s on! Bree, you should watch this.”

I’m not political, and I couldn’t imagine what the president could possibly say that would be of interest to me. As far as I could tell, people with the most money bought favors from candidates of either party, and politics was a bunch of old white guys in a room trying to stop the other half from getting anything done.

But then I started seeing chatter on my social media feeds. I had all the main networks merged together in one stream that got projected against my bedroom wall, so I could see if there was anything interesting going on. People were saying things like “finally” or “this is insane” and tagging it #therabots. When I saw someone say “end of cancer” I jumped up, clenching my fists. I got a text from Amy a few seconds later, U watching this?

I ran downstairs and joined my dad in the living room. Megan was sitting on an easy chair with a blanket over her, one hand buried in a bag of chips. The president was standing in a press conference room, with the presidential seal behind him.

“As you know, one of the major goals of my presidency has been to improve healthcare for all American citizens. This month, a project that has been in development secretly for over a decade has been approved to roll out on a larger scale. This is an amazing advance in medical technology that will allow America to not only catch up with other nations, but far surpass them. Imagine a world where sickness, disease, and pain can be improved from the inside, with no invasive procedures or harmful medications. I know what you’re thinking, it sounds like science fiction. And I know there will be naysayers who warn of dire consequences. But I’m absolutely certain that this new program will not only save billions of dollars in healthcare related fees, but will also improve the quality of life for Americans of all ages, from all backgrounds. Here to tell you about some of the more technical details of the program is Dr. Ted Kastler from the NHTC.”

“NHTC?” I asked my dad.

“National Health and Technology Center,” he said, without taking his eyes off the screen.

The president gestured offstage to another man, who was wearing a white lab coat over his suit. His gray hair stuck out in tufts, and his arctic blue eyes jumped out from beneath a pair of thick, dark eyebrows. Creases framed his mouth and eyes from the deep frown on his face.

“Firstly I’d like to thank the president, and the law makers and investors who saw the promise in our research at the early stages. Secondly, let me assure you that this is not some fancy, half-baked technology. At this very moment, there are over 10,000 microscopic nanobots moving around inside my body. They are, in effect, very tiny, very simple robots. They are not at all harmful. They are small enough to pass through cell membranes and move to different parts of my body as needed. And they can be programmed with reparative tasks by a certified doctor.”

No way, I thought, sitting down beside dad on the couch.

“We have already mapped the human genome,” Dr. Kastler continued. “While much of our DNA remains a mystery, we’ve also made great progress and discovery. Soon these nanobots—therabots, as we call them—will be able to look for disease markers of common genetic disorders, and eradicate familial predispositions to certain disease. In the meantime, they can already remove cancerous cells and increase white blood cells to boost our immune system.”

I glanced at my father and he met my eyes. He was thinking the same thing I was. It’s too late.

“They can attack viral or bacterial infections,” Dr. Kastler continued. “They can fix cataracts or improve vision. They can locate and repair damaged nerves. They can even measure the levels of specific compounds in your blood, helping diabetics, sufferers of anemia, and a whole host of other Americans in need of a new means of managing their health.”

A quiet ballad was playing behind him, so low I almost couldn’t hear it, but it built towards a crescendo as his speech picked up speed. The scientist punctuated his sentences with precise hand movements he’d probably practiced in the mirror.

“If not set to one of the 270 different preprogramed medical functions, the therabots can be set on a basic maintenance program that will assist the body in renewing itself and monitor any instances of misfolded proteins or irregular cells. All in all, the therabots should add at least a decade or two to the average American’s lifespan. Within fifty years, that may double. This isn’t just a miracle drug or a cure, this is truly the world’s first real panacea. This is not only the future of medicine. This is the future of the human race.”

The president came back onstage and put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. They shook hands and smiled as the camera flashes went off, holding the pose in the flurry of bright lights. There was a moment of silence, before the press began shouting questions. The president held a hand up to quiet people down.

“We won’t be taking any questions right now, but I’ve been assured that the technology is cost-efficient and effective. It is also harmless; there are safety protocols in place, and the nanobots can be turned off at any time and flushed out of the system in as little as 24 hours. Now, because this is such a new program, for the first several months it will be limited to patients with life-threatening conditions. Anyone enrolled with a national health care insurance plan can ask their doctor if they meet the initial requirements.”

“Those assholes,” I said, trembling with anger. Dad tried to put an arm around me but I shrugged him off.

“Three months,” I said. “They’ve been working on this for ten years, but if they’d have finished three months earlier, Mom would still be alive.”

“It’s not their fault mom died,” Megan said. “It’s not like it’s a government conspiracy. She had cancer. Cancer kills people.”

“Yeah, it used to,” I yelled. “But apparently it doesn’t have to anymore. All those months of chemo and medication, the puking, the fainting, the relapses… none of it helped. And now they have tiny robots that can just fix it. So what, I should be happy about it?”

“At least other people can still be saved,” my dad said quietly, looking at my sister. Megan’s lower lip was trembling and her eyes were filling up with tears. At first I thought this was about mom, but then I saw the two of them exchange a look. There was something else, something secret. I stood up, flexing my wrists and looking back and forth between them.

“Brianna, there’s something we have to tell you.”

“No way,” I said. My whole body was tingling, like cockroaches were walking over my bare skin.

“You can’t—you wouldn’t have kept that from me.”

“We weren’t absolutely sure until recently. And so soon after mom’s death, we thought…”

“What is it? Megan, what is it?”

“Retin…retino…” she stuttered.

“Retinoblastoma,” Dad finished for her.

“Eye cancer,” Megan added, as a tear fell down her cheek.

I felt hot and cold at the same time, and the sudden silence was deafening, like the air had been sucked out of the room. My legs felt shaky and I leaned against the couch to steady myself.

“I can’t, I just…” I choked on my words. I’d forgotten how to talk and breathe at the same time. My own eyes were filling up now. But I didn’t want to be sad. I was so tired of being sad. I stormed into the garage and slammed the door. Last summer I’d developed a habit of staying up all night tinkering, so eventually Dad just bought me a cot so I could crash mid-project and get a few hours of sleep. It was the summer of the roses. Years ago, Dad brought home a pine tree in a pot, and planted it near the driveway. It grew so fast it was casting shade over Mom’s rose bushes. He didn’t want to cut it, even though it had grown in funny, with a curved spine. I thought I could resolve the conflict with a device that refracted the sun to cast more light on the roses.

But then Mom got sick, and nobody talked about the front garden anymore. We spent so much time at the hospital we were rarely home, anyway. My half-finished project collected dust in the garage, and now it seemed to be mocking me. A reminder of all the things I never finished. That I couldn’t fix. All my tech wasn’t enough to save my mother. I rolled over to stare at the wall.

Dad knocked on the door, asking to come in and talk. I yelled at him to go away. Then Megan tried, but I just couldn’t deal. Why were they so calm? That’s what I hated most about the last few weeks of my mother’s life—the calmness. The acceptance. Like she was just giving up. And now it seemed like Dad and Megan were going through it all again, but they’d kept me in the dark. Because they knew I’d freak out. That I couldn’t handle it. And now they were trying to comfort me, when Megan was the one with cancer. I hated my weakness, and I didn’t want to yell or argue, so I just shut them out. It was easier.

After an hour, I checked my phone. Amy had messaged me a few times. I scrolled down and texted back. I had to tell someone or I was going to burst.

Megan has cancer.

 No way. Oh my god, shit that sucks, are you OK?

First my mom, now my little sis.

Should I come over?

No, we can talk in school tomorrow. I need to be alone.

I knew I was being a brat, and I hated myself for shutting out my little sister. My little sister whose hair I braided this morning, my little sister who had Retinofuckingblastoma. But what did they expect, that I could just sit down and discuss it rationally? The universe was destroying my family, one by one, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I gathered up the unfinished project, clearing my workbench, and dumped it into the trash, letting the mirrors crack and fracture. It was so cathartic I picked it up and smashed it down again, ignoring the bite of glass against my arms. Then I curled into the cot and cried myself to sleep.

3

I fell asleep in my clothes, and the next morning I still felt exhausted. I took a shower and washed the dried tears off my cheeks. I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I had blonde hair, like my mom, but I started cutting it myself after she died—whenever it got too long I’d hack off my bangs. Megan helped me trim the sides and back. Today I pulled it up into a high ponytail, which is how I wore it when I needed to focus or get my hands dirty. Then I took a deep breath and headed downstairs.

Dad and Megan were eating breakfast together. They’d been doing that for weeks, I realized now. Without me. Dad cleared his throat but I held up one finger and went straight to the coffee machine. This time I did it the old-fashioned way, sniffing in the rich smell of the coffee beans. Steaming mug in hand, I sat down at the table.

“It’s not the same type of cancer mom had, right?” I asked.

“Right,” my dad said.

“So it’s not hereditary?”

“It doesn’t seem so, but it’s hard to say these things for sure.”

“Treatment options?”

“Radiation therapy and chemotherapy. If those fail, surgery.”

“Worst case scenario?”

“Blindness in at least one eye,” dad said.

“But she’ll be okay?” I felt sick to my stomach. She had to be okay.

“It’s rarely fatal,” my dad said, “but not without risks. The treatment alone can have a negative impact. She’ll probably have to miss a few months of school.”

“And the therabots?”

“I made some calls last night. Dr. Jenkins thinks she will qualify. I’ve already scheduled an appointment.”

Dr. Jenkins was the specialist who’d been treating mom. I still harbored some anger and resentment for letting my mother die, but I knew he was good. Hope flared up in my chest, until I noticed the tension in my dad’s eyes.

“But?” I asked, prepared for the worst.

“Well, even with insurance, we’ll have to co-pay, and it isn’t cheap. It could cost $50,000 or more.”

“But we have the money, right?”

“I have some saved up in a college fund for the both of you. This has to be a family decision.”

“Wait, are you kidding?” I asked, slamming down my mug and spilling coffee. “Megan might go blind and you’re asking me if I want to go to college or get her treated? Don’t be stupid. I don’t care about college.”

“I just… I wish you didn’t have to choose. I wish I could provide for both. But with your mother gone—”

“I can get a job. I can work. Seriously, use the money. Get the treatment. We’ll deal with the rest later.” Megan gave me a hug, and I wrapped my arms around my dad and kissed his cheek.

“Whatever you need. Chores, meal prep, whatever. I’m in. Just make me a list. I’m late for school… but… sorry about last night.”

As I cut through the garage to grab my skateboard, I noticed mom’s project was back on the counter where it had been. It looked like a tree of mirrors and broken glass. Dad must have fished it out of the trash. There was a sticky note on it that read, finish what you start.

***

Thirty minutes later I was back in science class, but it felt like everything had changed. Mr. Leister told us to break into groups and start brainstorming project ideas. For the first ten minutes we just sat there looking at each other. David was scribbling in his notebook, Amy was playing on her phone, and I was sitting on my hands trying not to stare at Greg. Brad leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, chewing on a toothpick.

“So,” Greg said finally, “any ideas?”

“I’ve got a few,” David said.

“Of course you do,” Brad said. Then he fake-coughed in his hand, “Loser.”

“Knock it off!” Amy said. “If you’re not contributing, then shut the hell up. I’m not going to let you clowns screw up my GPA.”

Brad looked like he was going to say something else, but thought better of it. Way to go Amy.

“So I was thinking we need something that will play to our combined strengths,” David said. “Amy’s good at art and design, Brad is good at hacking programs and coding, Brianna’s good at creative problem solving and workarounds. I’m pretty good at math and electrical engineering.”

I raised my eyebrows at Amy. David may be quiet, but he paid attention. And starting out with a round of compliments was smart. “And Greg—”

“I’m good at basketball,” Greg said with a grin. But there was something else in his eyes. Sadness. What did he have to be sad about?

“Greg’s good with people. I think he should be our presenter,” David said.

Amy and I nodded. Brad brought his chair back to the ground.

“Fine,” he said. “Whatever. But what are we building?”

“I think some kind of useful bot would be easy for us. Something to help around the house, or free up human resources. Or maybe some new kind of charging device.”

“Boring,” said Brad. “They are looking for something new. Something surprising.”

“How about a rocket pack?” Greg said. “I mean they have those, but they’re really expensive.”

“Too many regulations,” David said.

“Do you remember that robotic cat?” Amy asked, “that hunted mice, then ate them and digested them for power? That was awesome.”

“There are lots of ways we could make a renewable energy bot,” David said. “A lawn mower that eats the grass or rakes leaves and converts it to energy.”

“We should make an invisibility suit,” Brad said.

“Too expensive and hard to pull off,” I said. “The military have been trying for years.”

“Yeah but they’re old,” Brad smirked.

“It should be something that helps everybody,” Amy said. “Something everybody already wants but nobody can get.” What did I want? For my sister to outlive me. And to be as pretty as Melissa so Greg would find me attractive. That’s when I first had the idea, or at least the beginning of the idea, that would destroy the world.

“What?” Amy said, looking at me. She knew me well enough to see I’d found something.

“We should hack the therabots,” I said quietly. Greg frowned and looked confused. David shifted in his seat and then took his glasses off and started cleaning the lenses.

“I don’t think that would count as an invention,” David said. “And besides, they were just announced yesterday. We can’t hack something we don’t have.”

“Amy, if you could change anything about your appearance, what would it be?”

“Poutier lips,” she said without hesitation. “And bigger eyes. And longer eyelashes.”

“Brad?”

“Muscles like a superhero. And perfect teeth.”

“Greg?”

“I’d like to be a foot taller,” he smiled, miming a slam-dunk.

“David?”

“The therabots are tiny—even if we could get our hands on some, we’d never be able to customize them,” David said, dodging the question.

“We don’t have to customize them. They’re already built to remedy 270 different health issues. The government would have made them to be versatile. All we have to do is access and alter their programming.”

“Wireless override,” Brad said. “We’d have to get their source code, but then we could put it into our own document and recode it.”

“Wouldn’t that be, kind of illegal?” Greg asked.

“It would be a super gray area,” David said, frowning. “I mean if you pay for treatment, I don’t think you’re just borrowing or renting the therabots. Aren’t they built for one-time use?”

“Yeah but probably just so they can keep charging you for repeat treatments.”

“So we’d have to reprogram them not to get flushed out. That alone would be a pretty useful hack. But the NHTC could already do that, if they wanted to. What do we bring to the table?”

“You know how the government works,” I said. “I mean it’s amazing already, what they can do to cure disease, and extend lifespans and everything. But it’ll take another decade before they start using therabots to do anything more interesting.”

“Red tape ties hands,” Amy chipped in, sounding like a fortune cookie.

“Sometimes that’s a good thing,” David said. “Without processes and bureaucracy, people could get hurt. Plus, they were built to cure disease on a cellular level, not hacking DNA or editing the human genome.”

“Human evolution,” Brad said, his eyes gleaming. “Without needing to wait for mutations across generations.”

“Not just curing disease,” I nodded. “Biological enhancement.”

“With enough therabots, couldn’t they keep you young and healthy, like, forever?” Amy asked.

“Immortality,” Greg said with a dramatic pause. “I think that should qualify us for first place in a science fair.”

We all laughed, but then David held his hands up. “It’s an awesome idea,” he said, “but the fact remains, we don’t have access to any therabots. The NHTC said they’re only giving them to terminal patients.”

“Life-threatening,” I corrected. “And I’m pretty sure I know where to get some.”

4

“You want to use my pee for your science fair project?” Megan asked, with an air of skeptical incredulity she’d learned from TV.

The approval process had gone quickly. Because of Megan’s age and our mother’s recent death from cancer, Dr. Jenkins had put “retinoblastoma with high risk of complication” on the online application, and she’d been approved two days later. Tomorrow was her first treatment, and I’d convinced Dad to let me take the afternoon off from school so I could go with her. That way I could learn how the therabots worked. Now I just needed my sister to agree to our plan.

“You’re going to get a new treatment of therabots every week, and after they’ve done their job, they’ll be flushed from your system. All we want to do is recycle the nanobots so they don’t go to waste.”

“What do you want them for?”

“We want to understand how they work.”

“Aren’t you meant to create your own thing for a science fair?”

“We have an idea or two for some… modifications.”

Megan pulled her eyes away from the cartoons on TV.

“Are you allowed to do that?” she asked with a dangerous grin.

“Not exactly. Just don’t tell Dad.”

“I wouldn’t squeal,” she said, frowning and crossing her arms. “I’m not a kid anymore, Bree.” When she scowled, she looked so much like mom it took my breath away.

“Of course not,” I said, ruffling her hair. She rolled her eyes at me and pushed my hand away.

“So you’ll do it?” I asked.

“Is this something I could get in trouble for?”

“No way. I promise.”

“Wouldn’t they have special numbers on them or something? Just in case somebody steals them and uses them for something they don’t want them to?”

“With what,” I asked. “Super microscophic lasers? Besides, who else would steal something like that?”

“I don’t know, people from other countries maybe. People who don’t have this tech yet. You heard the president say that they were years ahead on this stuff.”

She had a point, but I kept my face neutral.

“I’ll make sure that we get rid of any evidence,” I said. “And I won’t let anything get traced back to you.”

Megan shrugged. “Okay,” she said, turning back towards the cartoons. “There’s just one more thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I want your skateboard.”

“Deal,” I said, with a grin of pride. “I’ll even teach you how to use it.”

She beamed at me and then settled back down in her blanket to watch her show. I went into the hallway, grabbed my skateboard, and took it upstairs into Megan’s room. I stood there for a moment, soaking it all in. All of the little things that seemed to make up my sister even when she wasn’t there. Her toys, her drawings. I’d taken it for granted. I promised myself I’d never do that again.

I cleared a space at the end of her bed and set the skateboard there so that she wouldn’t trip on it on her way in. I would have given it to her for free.

***

“She’s in,” I told my group at school the next day. We’d spent several days brainstorming and dividing up responsibilities during class. David was learning all he could about DNA and genetic markers. Brad was researching nanotechnology. Greg was in charge of writing the sales copy and benefits, putting a marketing spin on it. And Amy and I had to come up with a user interface of some kind, so that normal people could program their nanobots. But it all depended on whether or not I’d actually be able to come through with the goods. Now that I had, there was an added gravitas to our work.

“We can’t tell anybody about this,” David said before the end of class. “Not teachers or parents or friends. Nobody. It’s different if we can actually make something that works, with proof and stats. But until then, we’re flirting with some controversial stuff—not to mention safety concerns.”

“How dangerous is this going to be?” Amy asked. She was tapping her feet, which I knew meant she was nervous.

“We’re fucking around with human DNA,” Brad said. “Picture Jurassic Park, but with monstrous humanoids.”

Brad was kidding, but I could see Amy’s panic setting in. I looked over to David and glared. He could have been less paranoid, and more comforting.

“That’s not going to happen,” David said quickly, reeling the conversation back in. “We’ll start very small. One tiny tweak at a time. Everything carefully controlled, with safeguards and backups built in. But…” he paused, “this isn’t a game. If we get something wrong, things could get very ugly.”

“Literally,” Brad said, smirking.

Amy looked like she was going to be sick. I kept an eye on her until class was over. It was a fun idea in theory, but I knew it went against her better judgment. She’d always been skeptical of body hacking, and didn’t talk to me for days after I got my thumb implant. Now that it was getting real, I didn’t want her sabotaging the project.

I was halfway to my next class when I felt a tug on my arm. I turned around, expecting David or Amy. Instead I was face to face with Melissa. And she was smiling. At me.

“Hey Brianna,” she said, linking one arm in mine. “That’s a nice bag. Where’d you get it?” Her friends were taking selfies behind her, pouting their lips. It reminded me of a Chinese study that said people who made the duck face were more likely to be neurotic, anxious and moody. It was the kind of thing Amy and I joked about, from a safe distance. But now I was close. Too close. Melissa smiled, baring her teeth, and I realized she was waiting for me to speak.

“I can’t remember,” I said quickly. My backpack was a few years old, and covered with obscure rock band patches. I was pretty sure Melissa wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.

“Greg tells me you’re working with him on a science fair project,” she said, changing the subject. “I think that’s great. I know how handy and techy you are. Maybe you’ll even be able to bump his grand point average a bit?”

Melissa gave me the closest thing she could to a genuine smile.

“I mean, he’ll get a sports scholarship for college for sure, but I want to make sure we can go to the same school. Also, just between us girls, he’s insecure about his low grades.”

“Um, sure,” I said, looking around for an escape.

“The way I see it, Greg is going to be spending quite a lot of time with you over the next few months. He told me you’ll even be working during lunch breaks and stuff.”

She paused, clearly wanting a response.

“And?”  I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure that your little crush on him won’t make things uncomfortable for you.”

The blood rushed to my ears.

“What crush?” I asked, folding my arms.

“Everyone knows you’ve got the hots for Greg. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

She said this part loudly, and my cheeks burned as several heads swiveled in our direction.

“I don’t—” I started, but she cut me off with a raised palm.

“Don’t worry. I told him to be extra nice to you. Because you probably don’t get a lot of attention from guys and that isn’t good for a girl your age.”

“Was there something else you needed?” I asked, clenching my fists. I wanted to say something clever, but I always froze up around conflict.

“Just don’t let Greg being nice go to your head, or think he actually likes you. M’kay sweetie?” Melissa pinched my cheek, then joined her coven of cackling bitches against the lockers. I turned down the first corner and sank against the wall, trying to steady myself.

5

Megan had her first treatment that afternoon. When we got to the doctor’s office, which was in the private wing of the local hospital, I grew increasingly anxious. The waiting room was comfortable enough, with leather chairs and green ferns, but I knew behind the double doors were white walls, harsh fluorescent lights and a chorus of humming machines. It was a sterile, lifeless space, paradoxically meant to preserve human life.

For me, the pleasant background music was a blatant lie. More than a lie: a taunt. I came here with my mother, dozens of times, always promising her that things would be okay, that she would be fine. When she died, I hated Dr. Jenkins’ office. I stopped just shy of hating the man himself; or at least I tried to. I knew rationally he’d only been trying to help, and my mother’s death wasn’t his fault, but I could still barely stand the look or smell of him. The sound of his voice. His gray mustache. Everything about this place made me physically ill. But I wasn’t here for the décor. This was a reconnaissance mission.

Megan squeezed my hand when we were invited into the examination room. She’d always had a good sense of how I was feeling. When had she gotten so brave? Probably in all the secret doctor visits I’d been excluded from.

“The nanobots themselves,” Dr. Jenkins was saying, “are cylindrical clamshells on flexible DNA hinges. Locked with twin DNA double helixes at the front, they carry a molecular payload, like a cancer drug, inside.”

“Once they’re in the body, how do they know what to do?” I asked. My phone was in my pocket, recording everything, but I wanted to make sure to get as much information as possible.

“The DNA locks are engineered to react only with specific molecules or proteins on the surfaces of cancer cells. If present, the locks bind to these molecules, the clam shell opens, and the nanobot’s payload is delivered.” He demonstrated by putting his hands together, then opening them. “This allows the nanobots to release drugs only near cancer cells, sparing the body’s population of otherwise healthy cells.”

“Why can’t other proteins unlock them?” Megan asked. She smiled slyly up at me and I squeezed her shoulder.

“Well,” Dr. Jenkins said, waving his hand towards the white wall behind him and bringing up a large wall panel. He sketched something on his tablet and it displayed on the larger screen behind him. “It’s kind of like this. Imagine that this semicircle here is the lock. On either side of the semicircle, there are binding points.”

“Uh huh,” Megan said as she watched the diagram taking shape.

“As the therabot is travelling through your body, it will come into contact with different kinds of molecules and proteins. Let’s imagine that the type you need is this square here, and make the binding points square-shaped at the bottom to show where they should go.”

“Alright,” said Megan.”

“If you have any other proteins entering the semicircle, represented by these little triangles, circles, and stars, they don’t have the right surface to slot into the binding point. This means that they can’t activate the opening sequence.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Megan said, turning to me with a big grin.

“But when a square comes along, it slots in nicely and waits for another square to join it on the other side.”

“Then it’s open sesame,” Megan said.

“That’s exactly right,” Dr. Jenkins smiled warmly.

“Are there different kinds of nanobots?” I asked. “I mean, how do you make sure you have the right kind, that are going to work with the type of cancer my sister has? Is that done during manufacturing?”

“That’s actually really neat—the bots come with certain prewritten setups, and respond to certain frequencies, so you can use the same bots but change their shape depending on what they will be doing.”

“And what about the payload? How do you get the medicine inside them?” Megan asked. I knew she’d asked that one for my benefit.

“You can just soak them in a solution: the same drugs we’d normally give in a syringe. The clam shells will open up when they get wet, and close again when they dry out. After that they’ll only open after they’ve connected to the specific targets they’re after.”

“So that means that the medicine is getting to where it needs to be in a much more direct way?” I asked.

“Yes. That’s what’s so exciting about all of this. The opportunity to treat patients without the effects on the body that people have had to experience in the past. Well, you girls know all about that…” Dr. Jenkins said, his voice trailing off. A crack of discomfort marred his friendly bedside manner.

“But that’s just to fix the cancerous cells, right?” I interrupted. I did not want to talk about Mom right now. “If you were dealing with a genetic issue, could the bots be used to change the DNA and fix the issue before it starts?”

“Luckily we don’t have to think about that in this case,” Dr. Jenkins said.

“But could it?” I pressed.

Dr. Jenkins raised an eyebrow. I didn’t want to push too hard, but I needed this information.

“I’m just wondering if we could have caught this sooner, and fixed it.”

Dr. Jenkins softened his expression but held up his hands. “Theoretically, sure. But the implications of something like that are very complex. There was a big fuss in 2015 about the CRISPR-Cas9 system. It got a lot of media. Some people referred to the process as “DNA scissoring” because it let anybody with knowledge of molecular biology modify genomes. Hackers were selling CRISPR kits out of their garage. But what happens if CRISPR snips out the wrong DNA, or adds in a sequence in the wrong place?”

“Most medical science was built on learning through mistakes,” I said.

“That may have been true centuries ago,” Dr. Jenkins said, “when surgeons were stealing cadavers for late night experiments. But thankfully, medical procedures now have strict laws to safeguard the public from snake oil salesmen. Even if these techniques are ever deemed safe and effective, who would qualify for treatment, and when?”

“Why would anyone have to qualify for treatment?” I asked. “I mean, if people are sick, and we have the technology, why not heal them?”

“Firstly, there will be associated costs with any treatment, and somebody will have to pay for all of it. Secondly, let’s say you’re 93 and dying of natural causes. Old age basically. But we could stabilize your DNA to stop deteriorating,” Dr. Jenkins said. “Now this is science fiction, mind you, but these are the kind of scenarios researchers have to think about. Do we save everybody? The world population is already unsustainable. If nobody ever dies, where will they live? What will they eat? But more than that, what if we mess something up and cause irrevocable changes to the human genome? What if we destroy ourselves, trying to improve ourselves?”

I nodded, pretending I understood, but these big theoretical questions bored me. I liked mechanics. If something was broken, you fixed it. If something could be made better, you upgraded it to do what you wanted. I didn’t see why the human body should be any different. If our bodies were hardware, and DNA was like the programming language or code, hacking biological limitations or defects seemed like the next obvious move.

I watched Dr. Jenkins set up a tray with a large syringe on it. The therabot solution was light blue, and almost seemed to sparkle under the bright lights like glitter. He wiped Megan’s arm with a sterilized alcohol swipe, and then leaned in close. I looked away when the needle went into Megan’s arm.

***

Three days later, I was standing in my school’s science lab holding up a thermos full of Megan’s pee.

“That’s disgusting,” said Amy, holding her nose.

“Shut up, you can’t smell anything,” I said, waving the sealed container in front of her face.

“Actually, urine is mostly sterile,” David said, scratching the back of his neck. “The urea in urine breaks down into ammonia, which has cleaning properties. The ancient Romans used it for whitening teeth.”

“Gross,” Amy said, making a face. “Where’d you even hear that?”

David shrugged and unlocked the door to the science room. We’d gotten the key from Mr. Leister; the lab was usually closed during lunch but we wanted to work on our project without direct supervision. He’d been reluctant but Amy sweet talked him and promised we wouldn’t make a mess. Large open windows faced the trees at the edge of the school grounds, past the baseball diamond.

“So what’s first?” Greg asked.

“First, we isolate the nanobots,” David said. He took the thermos and unscrewed the lid, pouring the liquid into a glass beaker. Then he turned on a small kerosene flame, and put the beaker onto a burner plate.

“You look like a mad scientist,” Brad said. “Wait a second—” Brad reached forward with both hands and messed up David’s hair until it was sticking out in every direction.

Amy laughed and pulled out her cell phone. “Don’t move,” she said. “As serious scientists, I think we should be documenting our progress. Hashtag science, hashtag badhairday.” David looked up at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry,” I smiled. “It kind of suits you.”

“Hey Amy,” Brad said, going to a storage closet and pulling out lab gear. “If we’re doing this for posterity, we should all look the part.” Brad handed out white lab coats and goggles.

“Everybody squeeze in,” Amy said. She pulled a selfiedrone out of her backpack and tossed it into the air. I’d made fun of her when she’d gotten one, but it had turned out to be far more useful than I’d imagined. It was also kind of endearing, the way it bobbed around to make sure that everybody was in frame before its little light blinked on the side telling us to get ready.

“Say cheese!” Amy said. We posed behind the glass beakers and the brewing concoction, which was starting to steam. While David finished up whatever he was doing, Amy printed out three-inch stickers of the photo for us to put on our binders.

I didn’t expect the boys to actually use theirs, and I was surprised when Greg and Brad both put the stickers in visible places. Places people would actually see them—like they weren’t embarrassed to be friends with us. I had a picture of Greg in my notebook last year, surrounded by hearts and love notes, until I realized how dangerous it was and trashed it. And now he had a picture of me in his notebook. I blushed, flattered. Of course it wasn’t just me, it was the group, but I was going to count it. This forced project wasn’t turning out so bad after all. I didn’t realize I was staring until he met my eyes and smiled, winking the dimple on the left side of his chin. I practically melted, until I remembered what Melissa had told me. Was he being nice to me because she asked him to?

“That’s it?” Brad said, a few minutes later. David reduced all the liquid into about a tablespoon of cloudy looking, viscous material that looked a little like melted toothpaste. “Yup. The bots are too small to see, but they’re there. Here, check this out.” He tapped a tiny bit of the substance on a glass slide and then slid it under a microscope.

“One individual robot is about one nanometer,” David said as we took turns looking into the microscope. “One nanometer is a billionth of a meter. There are 25,400,000 nanometers in an inch.”

Even with the microscope I could barely make out the individual bots.

“Now comes the fun part, right?” Brad asked, opening up his laptop. It was black and had an alien sticker on it. It was an expensive model; I’d assumed Brad was hard up for cash but maybe bot fighting was lucrative. He certainly couldn’t have gotten money from his family. A few years ago there had been a drive to help out his family, after Brad’s father took off. We brought toys and stationery for his younger siblings, but Brad refused to take anything.

“So what is the fun part exactly?” Amy asked, still looking at the pee concentration in disgust.

“Making contact,” David said. “There should be a very faint, simple signal we can lock onto, which will let us customize the programming.”

“If we can’t do that,” I added, “we can’t really do anything.”

“Lucky for you guys,” Brad said, his fingers flying over his keyboard. “I’m kind of awesome at this stuff. And…. I’m done,” he said, smirking. He flipped the laptop around to show us a black screen with computer code scrolling down it, followed by a blipping cursor.

“We’re connected?” David said, raising his eyebrows.

“You doubted my powers?” Brad said.

“Not for a second,” Amy said, giving him a high-five.

“So we’re good?” Greg asked.

“It’s a first step,” I said. “Now we have to tell them what to do.”

6

The next day, I couldn’t wait until lunch. I would have been thrilled to hang out in private with Greg under any circumstance, but doing a top-secret, potentially world-changing science experiment certainly made things more exciting. I’d also started paying more attention to my appearance. Normally I went to school and tried to disappear into my hoodie, but now that Greg actually knew who I was, I was inclined to make a good impression. Obviously, with Megan’s treatment we didn’t have money for a shopping spree, but I let Amy dress me up and loan me a few cute outfits. And I started wearing eyeliner. Nothing drastic, but a slight improvement. Or so I told myself every fifteen minutes when I checked myself out in the reflection of my aPhone.

“So whose blood do we use?” Amy asked when we met for lunch the next day.

Now that we had the nanobots, we needed to put them in a petri dish with some blood to see what we could do with them.

“We’re going to be doing a lot of testing,” David said. “I think it’s fair that we rotate it. I’ll go first, and we can each take a turn.”

“Plus it would get suspicious if one of us started having bandaids all over,” Greg said.

David took a needle and poked it into the tip of his index finger, letting three red drops fall into the petri dish. “So we’re basically trying to get the bots to find and edit genetic sequences, right?” I asked. “DNA hacking.”

“Pretty much,” Brad answered. “They figured this stuff out years ago.”

“DNA scissors,” I said, remembering what Dr. Jenkins had told me.

“Right, also known as TALENs,” David said. “A DNA sequence is just made up of four building blocks: As, Cs, Gs, and Ts. We know the sequences for various hard-coded genetic manifestations, including advantages and disadvantages, like diseases. In 2015 scientists were using TAL proteins to identify certain “broken” parts of DNA chains they wanted to fix, and adding an endonuclease that would cut the chain in that spot. Those are the scissors. Then, they just added the new DNA sequence they wanted to fix it with. The individual cell would accept their hijacked version of the DNA and fix the mistake to the DNA in a process called homologous recombination.”

“The only part of that I understood was scissors,” Amy said.

“But they couldn’t get it all to work,” Brad said. “Maybe because of limitations in the technology, or because of regulations. Anybody who wants to study this stuff will get smeared by negative press and have protesters outside of their labs. The interesting stuff moved overseas.”

“So what’s on the agenda today?” Amy said.

“We’ll basically try to recreate that process: hack DNA, cut the string, add in our own code. We can’t actually see the DNA, just the cell, so we have to use chemistry and test whether or not it works. So I’ll just do some basic things that will register on a cellular level. Things will get more interesting once we start testing on live subjects.”

“Live subjects?” Greg said.

“Mice,” Brad said. “One of my mates has a boa constrictor. We can get mice for a dollar each.”

Amy wrinkled up her nose. “Seems kind of mean,” she said.

“Seriously?” Brad countered. “We’re on the cutting edge of genetic engineering and you’re worried about the mice?”

“We’re fine with the mice,” I said, giving Amy a pointed look, but I knew that I would regret it later. Amy had a guinea pig until she was eleven named Mr. Whiskers.

“We have something to show you, too,” I said. “We’ve been working on a mockup for the app.” I pulled out my phone and opened the application.

“It works basically like an online avatar program. First you add in your details, height, weight, etc, and a selfie for a profile picture,” I said, turning my phone around and snapping a picture of myself. “Then the app will make you a base avatar.” I showed them my phone, where there was now a cartoon version of myself, rotating slowly.

“Sexy,” Brad teased. My avatar was wearing skin-tight clothing; jeans and a plain T-shirt.

“It’s not about the clothes,” Amy said, taking the phone from me. “You click on upgrade, and then a subcategory, and then the feature you want to edit. Then we’ve added options with a scale system. So you click on nose and you can set how thick or thin you want the bridge of your nose to be, or your nostril shape, or the tilt of the tip of your nose. Or you can select a predetermined option. We added a database we stole off a plastic surgeon’s website menu, with 100 different celebrity noses to choose from.” Amy scrolled through the options, hitting one after another and showing how the face of my avatar morphed each time to match the new choice.

“That looks amazing,” Greg said. “How did you make it so quickly?”

I blushed, even though I knew he was talking about the program, and not me.

“Amy designed most of it,” I said.

“Yeah but you coded it,” she said.

“Can it do Pinocchio?” Brad asked. “Or, like put a koala bear’s nose on my face?”

“Um, we didn’t think about that,” I said.

“We kept it within the normal range of human possibility,” Amy said.

“Boring,” Brad said, “As long as we’re doing this, we should make it fun. Gamify it.”

“I think you’re underestimating the market for personal cosmetics,” Amy said. “Girls don’t want to look crazy. They still want to look natural, just improved.”

“Maybe some do. Maybe not. Come’on, how awesome would it be to be completely unique? Blue hair, violet eyes, green skin…”

“Yuck,” I said, “that sounds horrible.”

“Yeah but the cool thing is, they’d pay to try it out, and then pay for something else. And people wouldn’t only use this for cosmetics. As long as they can change back to the way they were, I bet people would use this for costumes, practical jokes, all kinds of stuff.”

“Don’t forget identity theft,” David threw in. “It would make a perfect disguise.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Could someone really use the app to become someone else? For some reason I felt a chill run down my spine.

“So, all we need now is to connect the actual code to the app and program the bots to make the changes?” Greg asked.

“It’s not that simple,” David said. “We’ll have to find a way for the bots to stay in the system longer. And then we’ll need to pair them to only respond to a particular cell phone so that other people can’t program your bots for you on accident. And I don’t think we’ll be able to get that specific,” David said, frowning. “Matching all the celebrity noses and whatnot. We should start with more basic stuff, like height, or eye color.”

“But… as long as we aren’t going for anything too crazy, it’ll work?” Amy prompted.

“Yeah,” David said, crossing his arms and leaning back. “Yeah, I think it will.”

I caught his eye and saw a tiny flicker of pride.

***

That night my sister had another treatment session with Dr. Jenkins. He scanned her with a handheld device and read the data from a large screen on his desk.

“Well?” I said, my arms crossed.

“It’s too early to see much progress, even if everything is working perfectly, which it seems like it is,” Dr. Jenkins said. “More importantly, how do you feel, Megan?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.

“Have your eating habits changed at all? Do you feel hungrier than usual, or maybe a loss of appetite?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sleeping more or less than before?”

“Same as always,” she said.

Something told me she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but I could check in with her later. Right now I needed more information. I didn’t know exactly what to ask, but anything could be useful.

“So what, the therabots go in and destroy the cancer cells?” I asked.

“Cancer cells are like normal cells—they just grow abnormally. Traditional treatments try to get rid of the cancer cells while protecting normal cells. But cells can be programmed to become normal again.”

“How exactly?” I asked. I leaned forward to make sure my phone could record everything clearly.

“Most cells in your body are slowly replaced by new cells through the process of cell division. During this complex process, hundreds of things need to go just right. When they do, the final step is to instruct the cell to stop dividing. In cancer cells, the levels of PLEKHA7 aren’t right, the final step is missed, and that’s what results in a tumor.”

“So you don’t need to kill the cell, you can just fix the fix the levels of the PK7 or whatever?”

“Right,” Dr. Jenkins said. “When the researchers injected microRNAs into cancer cells, the levels of PLEKHA7 were restored and the abnormal growth stopped.”

I tried to think of more questions, but Dr. Jenkins had gloved up and was reaching for the injection. This time I didn’t look away as he stuck the needle into Megan’s arm, but I still flinched at the pain on Megan’s face.

Dr. Jenkins removed the needle, then wiped the wound and covered it up with a purple bandaid. He handed Megan a box of apple juice, then tapped my dad on the shoulder and said, “Mark, can I see you outside for just a minute?”

As soon as we were alone, I ran to the door and put my ear against the wood.

“What are you doing?” my sister asked.

“Shhhh!” I whispered.

“I thought our insurance would cover it?” I heard my dad say.

“It only covers up to the first $50,000 of treatment. Additional funding will be made available, and we’ll see a price drop as insurers see the effectiveness of treatment—but at the moment a lot of the cost is coming directly from patients themselves. It’s often at least $100,000, just for the first batch of therabots. And we don’t know exactly how many treatments Megan will need.”

“I thought this would be easier than last time. Something we could just fix.”

“It’s very possible,” Dr. Jenkins said. “Megan is young and strong. But it’s more common for this kind of thing to require long-term treatment. It was a stretch to even get you on the list. I’m really sorry to have to bring this to you; normally we don’t even talk about payments with patients, but I wanted to give you fair warning. Of course you want to do everything you can for your daughter…”

“Sure, sure,” my dad said. “We’ll come up with the money. Somehow.”

“Next week is Megan’s third treatment, by then we should have definitive results and be able to see how well things have worked, and whether or not we need to schedule more treatments. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

My skin was prickling and I felt like the walls were closing in. What if we couldn’t afford treatment? Dad didn’t talk about it, but I knew we were still getting bills for Mom’s time in the hospital. Even if we used all our savings, what else would we have to lose in order to save Megan?

The door handle turned and I stepped out of the way quickly, bumping into the medicine cabinet behind me. It rattled loudly. I put my hand against the glass door to steady it, and saw rows of therabot solution through my fingers, on the other side of the locked glass door.

I got a text from David as we were leaving the doctor’s office. I figured it was something about the project at school, but instead he just said how’s Megan?

Fine, I typed. I wondered if he was really worried about her, or just our next batch of therabots.

And you?

I felt a warmth fill my body and I glanced up at Megan. It was just David, but it felt vulnerable to be chatting with a boy in the car with my family. I tilted the screen so Megan couldn’t see.

It’s surreal. I can’t believe I’m going through this again.

It’s the time in between treatments that really gets you. When things are so normal, you almost forget about what’s happening, and then you feel horrible about forgetting.

David sounded like he was talking from personal experience, and I wondered who he’d lost. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t write back.

Do you have an Illius account? He asked a few minutes later.

Yeah, of course. I wrote. Why, do you?

For some reason I never pictured David as a gamer.

Yeah. If you ever want a distraction from everything, we can play some WOL or something.

“Who are you messaging?” Megan asked, leaning over so that she could read my phone.

“Nobody,” I said, hiding the phone defensively. It buzzed in my pocket, vibrating loudly against my thigh and the car door, but I distracted Megan by asking about her friends and checked the message once we got home.

The message was just his username and nothing else. I tried to ignore it. I hadn’t played World of Legends in weeks. It just didn’t hold the same interest as it once had. But David’s message reminded me about Jens, my usual WOL partner. I still hadn’t responded to his message and felt bad about it. I did my homework until dinner, and jotted down some notes from my recording with Dr. Jenkins. Dad picked up a roasted chicken from the supermarket, so I made a salad and warmed up some dinner rolls. For the first few weeks after Mom died, we ordered takeout. Then Dad got on a huge health kick, threw out most of our food and only let us buy organic for a month. We’d finally settled into our own kind of routine, and I was not unskilled in the kitchen.

After dinner I helped Megan wash the dishes, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Dr. Jenkins said. At least $100,000. I was pretty sure Dad didn’t make that much money in a year. I wondered how much debt we still had. By 10pm I was restless and driving myself crazy. Maybe I could use a distraction. I logged into Illius and searched for David’s username. His invitation had been general, so I wasn’t sure if he meant tonight. Half of me hoped he’d be logged in. The other half hoped he wouldn’t be.

World of Legends was an open-world roleplay game with over a hundred million users, so it’s no surprise I hadn’t run into him before. Plus, everyone used customized avatars, so I wouldn’t have recognized him even if he was standing right next to me.

Hey, David’s message popped up as soon as I signed in. My stomach fluttered when I saw his message appear so quickly. Was he waiting for me?

Where to? I asked, trying to keep it casual. There were thousands of worlds and activities in Illius. Experience points could be saved up for special gear or weapons. Some of these were so rare they actually had value in the real world.

I usually just go to Planet Plunder, David said. For some hack and slash. Helps me think.

I rolled my eyes. Planet Plunder was for newbies. Jens would make fun of me later if he found me there. But I didn’t want to hurt David’s feelings, so I chose the option and pulled on my VR mask and headphones. Seconds later I was standing in thick field, with stalks of yellow grain up to my waist. I let my palms drift over the top of the wheat. The haptic gloves let me feel the rough texture brush across my palms.

I heard a noise and whirled around to find a tall figure, wrapped in silver and gold armor. A pair of gleaming wings unfolded behind him, with white feathers and reinforced steel.

“Paladin?” I asked. “Good choice.”

“Nice gear,” he said, looking me over slowly.

My avatar was curvy, with pointy ears and round eyes. I had a jewel-encrusted shield and a pair of slender elf-blades, and a low-cut white blouse, with a strap of blue leather holding everything in place. A blue miniskirt revealed my bare thighs, and blue ribbons held up a pair of black stockings, which disappeared into white leather boots. A white, hooded cloak draped over my shoulders, flailing behind me when I ran.

I was pretty good, but I didn’t play enough to earn the really expensive stuff. Jens bought most of my armor. I met him over a year ago, when things were still normal. He said if we were going to hang out, I needed to look cooler or he’d be embarrassed to be seen with me. He was always upgrading; he’d buy things and try them out once, and then discard them. He said he was too lazy to make the trip back to a trading post, so he’d just throw this stuff away, unless I wanted them. I didn’t really believe him, but it meant he could keep giving me exquisite gear without either of us thinking too much about it.

I found it sexist at first, how unrealistic the female armor was, but I can’t tell you how many times I’d won a fight because the other gamers had been too busy ogling my digital physique to see me draw my blade. I was half the size of David’s avatar, but probably twice as fast. People usually thought I was just eye candy, or a groupie, but I knew Jens kept me around because I could get into hard to reach places.

Planet Plunder was a low-level intro stage, full of zombies, tar pits, and treasure chests. Beginners could build up experience points and discover buried gemstones. They were only worth a few hundred points, but you could save up and get some lightweight battle armor or weaponry. There was nothing of any real value on the planet.

“Down for some dragon hunting?” David asked. His lips turned up in daring smile.

“Wait, what?” I asked. “There are dragons here?”

“Under the bridges. First you have to defeat the three trolls. They’re too tough for beginners, so most people never get past them. But kill them all and you’ll get a key, which opens a locked vault.”

I was skeptical, but I followed David as he ran through the field, then jumped over some boulders. Five minutes later we came to an arched stone bridge. I vaguely remembered the trolls. I’d always assumed they were there just to fuck with us; I’d probably died a hundred times trying to beat one. But once I had enough experience to explore other realms, and then met Jens, I’d been so sick of Planet Plunder I never wanted to see it again.

David had a pair of twin blasters in his holsters. He whipped them out and began firing, then dove out of the way as the first troll charged him. I ran past them, leaping into the air and sinking my blades into the second troll. It howled and threw me backwards, but my shield absorbed most of the damage.

David fired another volley of shots into his troll, and it finally collapsed. Then we approached the third troll. It was bigger than the others, but we still took it down quickly. Too quickly. I cast an appraising eye towards David. Those pistols must have been high quality to inflict that much damage. Maybe he wasn’t just a beginner. The last troll’s body faded, leaving behind a golden key. David picked it up and walked under the bridge. He used the key in a vaulted door and it glowed with magical light. It slid open, and he beckoned into the darkness.

I followed the outline of his silhouette until the tunnel opened into a wide cavern, glowing with yellow light. In the middle was a green dragon, as big as an airplane, sitting on a pile of treasure. Its chest rose and fell slowly.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked. Dragons were tough. I’d fought one with Jens before, but we’d had backup. And there were six of us.

I probably had enough health kits to survive the encounter, but only if David kept up. Dragons recharged their health every few minutes, and eventually we’d run out of health kits and be eaten. David smirked and nodded his head.

“Just follow my lead,” he said.

We slid down into the valley of gold, riding the treasure like a massive wave. The dragon rumbled awake, spitting smoke and fire out of its massive nostrils. David had switched to a broadsword nearly as big as he was. He charged and took a swipe at the dragon’s leg, then dove underneath as the dragon whipped its tail. David rolled back to the front, and I saw him drop something black onto the gold coins, before sprinting to the side as the dragon huffed a massive wall of liquid fire.

When the smoke cleared, David ran back into the center of the cave and picked up something shiny.

“Is that a diamond?” I asked, my mouth dropping open. Diamonds were worth a thousand gold coins. David grinned and nodded.

“Dragon fire turns coal into diamonds.”

“How the hell did you figure that out?” I asked. His avatar shrugged, then launched himself back towards the dragon again.

“Keep attacking,” he said. “You get massive experience points with each attack.”

We found a rhythm, working together, taking turns attacking and avoiding the dragon’s teeth and tail. Eventually our health was running low, and as I feared, the dragon had been steadily recharging its health.

“It’s no use,” I said. “We can’t defeat him.”

“Follow me,” David said, leading the way back out of the cave. We stopped at a trading booth and David used the diamond to buy more health kits, and a dozen pieces of coal. Then we jogged a short distance away to another bridge. We fought the trolls again and descended into another cavern. This dragon was deep blue, with yellow eyes. David repeated his trick with the coal, then we fought with the dragon until we’d used up all our health.

“Wait, that’s it?” I asked. “You just go back and forth between the dragons, racking up experience points and diamonds? How long have you been doing this? You must have insane stats.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Like I said, it helps me think. The repetition, the patterns. I have a few million credits, but I rarely buy anything. I just like to play.”

My mouth dropped open. A few million? Damn. David could be a serious player, if he wanted to be. I don’t think even Jens had that much. He may not have the skills, but his little hack meant he could upgrade quickly, and he probably had enough diamonds already to buy anything he wanted. I couldn’t believe he’d hacked Illius. If only there was a hack to make that much money in the real world.

7

“We need to talk about monetization,” I said immediately the next day, as soon as Mr. Leister divided us into groups. We usually just killed time in class with other homework so that we could work in private during lunch. But today we had things to discuss. My gaming session with David hadn’t made me forget about our money problems, but it had given me an idea.

“My sister just got her second round of treatment, but there’s only going to be one more. That means, altogether we’ll only have three batches of nanobots.”

“That’s enough to prove our project works, and win the contest,” Brad said.

“Forget about the contest,” I said, whispering harshly. “You know science fairs are for corporations to just steal great ideas away from teenagers at a fraction of the cost. If this thing works, it’s going to be revolutionary, right?”

“With all the things we can do? Uh, yeah,” Brad said. “It’s going to be a big fucking deal.”

“So we put it out ourselves,” I said. “Publish the app. Keep the profit.”

“Isn’t that, I don’t know, wrong somehow? It just feels wrong to me,” Amy said with her hands tucked around her elbows. “This is starting to get out of control.”

“We’d get in less trouble if we could just play dumb high school kids who made something for a science fair project. Once we start selling it for money, the narrative changes,” David said, avoiding my eyeline. “I mean, if what we’re doing is illegal—and I don’t think it is, but it’s in very questionable area—people could come after us, hard. They could sue us. Take the money away.”

I hadn’t thought about that. I didn’t want to put my family into any more financial trouble. But I wasn’t ready to let go of my idea.

“If Megan can’t pay her bills, our supply of therabots goes out. We need to fund our supply,” I said. It made sense in my head, but sounded unconvincing out loud.

“I can set up an LCC and connect it to a bank account,” Greg said.

“A what?” asked Amy.

“Limited Liability Company,” Greg said. “Basically a company that the money goes to. We draw out of the company. The company can be sued, but they couldn’t come after any of us or our families. Not financially.”

“If we were going to sell it, that’s probably a good idea,” said David.

“Why not sell it?” Brad said. “I mean, if it works, this could be huge. Like, we could all become millionaires. You don’t want to be a millionaire?”

“Some things are more important than money,” Amy said.

“Not right now,” I said darkly. “The truth is, my dad’s broke and we can’t afford to keep treating Megan. If she doesn’t get treated she could go blind. Or die.”

Amy reached over and squeezed my hand.

“Okay, so we sell it,” David said. Gratitude filled me like a ray of sunlight. I didn’t think they’d agree this easily.

“But we have to be careful,” David continued. “And first, we have to make it actually work.”

***

Melissa was waiting for Greg outside of the classroom. She leaned up and kissed him, with both hands on his stomach. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach. Then she chewed on his lip, looking over at me while she did it. Greg looked uncomfortable and backed away from her. He caught eyes with me, and there was a weird expression on his face. I turned and walked quickly in the other direction.

Amy and I had English after lunch. I’ve never been a great student, but I liked English. There were rarely any right or wrong questions. It was all just about your responses. Miss Lee was always asking us what we thought or how the literature made us feel. I wasn’t so good at writing out stories, at least not as good as Amy. But I could write something decent enough to pass on the first draft, which meant I could procrastinate on everything until the night before it was due.

Sometimes Amy helped. I’d come up with all the big ideas, and she’d put them down in words. Today we were supposed to write a dystopian story, and Miss Lee asked us to buddy up so that we could brainstorm. I wanted to write something about the advancements in medical science, and Amy was all about how AI was going to take over the world. Both ideas had always been firmly science fiction until recently, I realized.

We paired off with another group, and offered criticism to each other’s initial plans. Amy and I agreed on most stuff, but when I started complaining about how private health companies would be the ones regulating everything in the future, Amy argued that the government would step up and protect innocent lives. We were still talking about it when the bell rang.

We bumped into David in the hall and he fell in step with us.

“I had fun last night,” David said quietly.

“Um, yeah, me too,” I said, glancing over at Amy’s surprised look.

“Play again sometime?” he asked.

“It’s a date,” I said, then immediately regretted it.

David gave me a strange look, almost waiting for me to backpedal or change my mind. A shock of embarrassment ran through every inch of my body, but I resisted the urge to clarify.

We headed towards the cafeteria to grab lunch. Amy got a cherry Coke and a slice of pizza. I grabbed a chocolate milk. I’d brought a sandwich and some carrots from home.

“So, you and David, huh?” she said as we were leaving the cafeteria.

“It’s not like that. We were just playing WOL.”

“What about Jens?” she said. “I thought he was your battle buddy.”

“Yeah but we’ve never even met. Anyway, we just slew some dragons.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Amy said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Shut up,” I said, punching her arm. “It’s just a stupid game.”

Greg was up ahead, holding the door to the lab open for us. He was so tall we just ducked under his arm. After we locked ourselves in the room, Amy and I started eating while David paced.

“The way I see it,” he said, “we have a chicken and egg problem.”

“Which is what?” Brad asked.

“Even if we can reprogram the government nanobots to do what we want,” David said, “there’s a market limitation. Few people have the bots at all. And we’re only going to have three batches. That’s not even enough for us, assuming we want to use it.”

“And we can’t get more without paying for my sister’s treatment, which means selling the app and making money,” I said, making sure everyone was on the same page.

“And nobody will buy the app if they don’t have the bots,” Greg finished.

My chest tightened and for a second my vision grew dark, like the last spark of hope had died.

“Okay, so we leak our process,” Brad said. He turned over a chalkboard and wiped it clean. Step one, he wrote on the board and underlined it.

“First we need to put out the hack, and instructions for getting more bots. Any teens with family members getting treatment could have access. It’s not ideal, but apart from ripping off the government or stealing a shipment of bots, I don’t know what else we can do. But they won’t go through the trouble until they see the benefits.”

“So we need to publish the app first. Or at least some videos or proof or something, to presell it. Tell people it’s coming and they need to get their hands on some bots,” Greg said.

“Then we need a function they can upload into the bots so they aren’t flushed out of the system; so they stay and can be reused and reprogrammed,” David added.

“The information is all free, they use their own bots, but they pay for the app,” I said.

“And they pay for individual upgrades,” Amy prompted.

“It’s messy,” David said, rubbing his jaw. “Let’s agree it’s not a great plan, but a working model for now.”

“Ok, so what’s next?” I asked.

“Earning potential,” Greg said. “My dad would say, we need to find the MVP—minimal viable product. We make something that gives us a quick win. The fastest path to market, something that can be done quickly and that people will want to pay for.”

“I had no idea you knew so much about business,” Amy said.

Greg shrugged. “I pick up a lot from my dad. Think Shark Tank for real estate. I spent a lot of time in expensive hotel lobbies, or doing my homework while he was closing a deal.”

“Boob jobs!” Brad burst out suddenly.

Amy nodded, catching on. “Girls want to fix lots of things about their physical appearance, but the fastest and easiest way to increase attention from boys is going up a few cup sizes. You could charge thousands of dollars for that.”

“Yeah but remember, our current plan is to be selling to high school kids who are okay with shooting pee-bots into their arm,” David said.

“Peebots!” Brad said, choking back a laugh. “That is awesome, we should totally trademark that! We use the world’s finest, Peebot technology to genetically alter your body for enhanced human performance,” Brad said in a TV advertiser’s voice.

“What I mean is, high school kids don’t have thousands of dollars to spend on personal appearance or personal development. And they aren’t likely to ask their parents for help in using black-market tech,” David finished.

“So we need a subscription model,” Greg said, putting his hand on his chin. The sun caressed his face, making him look like a finely sculpted piece of art.

“The changes aren’t permanent,” I said. “You get a free 24 hour trial. Then you can buy the upgrade at a certain price, but we make it weekly or monthly. And we make it cheap.”

“So instead of one boob job at $5000,” Brad summed up, “We sell 1000 temporary breast augmentations for $5 each.”

“Yeah but then that’s recurring revenue,” Greg said. “We could charge $5 a week easily. That’s like, one day’s lunch money.”

“So instead of one boob job at $5000,” Amy said, “we’d get $20 from a thousand girls. $20,000.”

“$20,000 per month,” I added, thinking about Megan’s treatment bills. “And that’s for just one upgrade. We could have dozens of different features.”

“We need to make one for burning calories, so you can eat what you want and not gain weight,” Amy said, gnawing on the crust of her pizza. “I’d pay $20 a month for that, easily.”

“And one to increase muscle mass,” Brad said, flexing his arm. “People pay much more than that for gym memberships they don’t use, or supplements promising to get you jacked.”

“And some fun stuff. Just a few, for shock value. In a category for disguises and costumes. Something really visual that teens can play around with, that’s so impossible everybody pays attention,” I said. “So they’ll try the free stuff and see that it works, and then buy other upgrades.”

“We’re nowhere near that point yet,” David said, running a hand through his hair. “I mean it’s fun to talk about, but we haven’t even started testing yet.”

“Well, if you want more samples,” I said, “we need to figure it out, fast, and keep paying for my sister’s treatment.”

“Yeah but we can’t rush it,” David said.

“This is my little sister we’re talking about,” I said, standing up. Why did David always have to be so practical?

“I get that,” David said, speaking slowly like he had to spell it out for me. “Speeding up a very complex DNA editing experiment using stolen government technology is a recipe for disaster. I mean, what if we really screw things up? What if it’s dangerous? We can’t just release something that could harm other people, not until we know it’s safe. Not for money. And not for just one person.”

I clenched my fists together. I was about to start yelling at him, but Amy put an arm around me and gave me a look.

“We’ll do everything we can for Megan,” she said, “and we’ll test everything ourselves before we release anything. But we’ll also move as fast as we’re able. That okay with everyone?” She looked around the table and we all nodded. I gave her a grateful look and squeezed her hand. I knew she wasn’t comfortable with this stuff, but I could count on her when it really mattered.

Brad flexed his fingers together, smiled and said, “Alright, now… how are we going to split up all the money?”

8

I was in my last class when I got a message from Brad.

Meet after school. Science lab.

I counted down the minutes, glaring at the clock, then rushed to the science room. When I entered, the others were looking at a bunch of white mice in a cardboard box.

“Ten?” I counted.

“You said you wanted to move quickly,” David said, adjusting his glasses.

“You did this?” I asked. I was surprised—I thought David wanted to be careful. Which meant he’d probably done it for me.

“Brad and I took last period off.”

“What?” Amy asked. “David skipping school? No way.”

“So walk us through it, Sherlock,” I said. Amy and I had spent the last few days working on the app, while the boys ran simple programs on the bots to see how they would respond.

“Mice have short lifespans and a fast metabolism. We should be able to see changes sooner. I guess we only got about half of Megan’s original dose, and the human to mice dose conversion is about 33.”

“Megan’s a lot bigger than 33 mice,” I said. “Even half of her is.”

“It’s based on surface area, and body weight. You said she’s 92 pounds, so half of her was 46 pounds, which would be about 33 mice. I’m pretty sure the calculations are right. An hour ago, I gave each of these mice a shot of peebots.”

“Are we seriously going to call it that?” Amy asked.

“What should we call it, zee formula?” Brad said, faking a German accent.

“Let’s just call them therabots,” I said. “That’s what people know. No use hiding it. And we’ll need to use the hashtag that’s already trending.”

“Peebots is funny,” Brad said.

“Maybe to you,” Amy said. “But a lot of people won’t see the humor in it.”

“Whatever,” David said, “I shot the mice with the bots. Then I figured out a patch to put them in a dormant state. After they do their thing, with no further instruction they’ll attach to a bone cell and hibernate until the next command. You’ll still lose some, even our skeleton renews every year. But they should last three months or so. Maybe six months, depending how much you’re using them. You’ll lose some after every mod, because not all of them will find their way back to a bone before they’re flushed out.”

“So, how are they doing?” Brad said, picking up the box and shaking it.

“Knock it off!” David yelled, grabbing the box. “Stressing them out could skew the results.”

“Chill, dude,” Brad said, as David placed the mice carefully back on the counter.

“So now what?” I asked. I couldn’t believe we were actually doing this.

“Now we give each group of bots a command and see how it works.”

“How do you keep them all separate? So they respond to only one command and not all of them?” Amy asked.

“That’s where I come in,” Brad said. “Right now they’re all the same. But we take one mouse…” he put it into a separate container by itself, “and we give it a shock. The electricity goes through its whole system, but it will prime the bots and deliver the instructions: it’s basically a tiny data transfer. The bots should get their marching orders and get started right away. They aren’t delivering any medicines, they are just programmed to look for a specific genetic marker pattern, interrupt the genome at a certain spot, and then fill in the gaps.”

“I thought we had to add in the DNA separately?” Greg asked.

“That’s the way it’s been tried before,” David said, “but I found a better way.”

“A better way than decades of scientists?” Amy asked, crossing her arms.

“Well, yes.” David pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

I’d always thought of David as shy and quiet. But now his confidence was almost unnerving.

“The genetic material is already there, so we just used DNA replication—a biological process found in all living organisms. DNA polymerase synthesizes new DNA by adding complementary nucleotids to the template strand. So we force a PCR, a polymerase chain reaction, to amplify the target DNA fragment from a pool of DNA.”

“In English?” Greg said.

“Basically, we snip the DNA and separate it into two pieces; then we have enough building blocks to restructure the DNA how we want it. The body fills in the gaps and uses the new code as a template. The bots go through and hack DNA; DNA replicates rapidly through trillions of cells; then there’s a tipping point where the body starts recognizing the changes in the DNA and doing them automatically,” Brad said, looking smug.

“It sounds messy when you say it that way,” David said. “But it’s like bioconcrete. They infuse it with bacteria, and food for them. When the concrete cracks, the bacteria eat the food and produce limestone that fills the cracks in a matter of weeks. The concrete lasts for 200 years and self-activates if damage occurs.”

“You’re full of useless trivia,” Amy said. “Just show us how it works.”

Brad took out a short cord and plugged it into his phone. The other end looked like the tip of a ballpoint pen. “We’re only testing one very specific thing at a time for each subject. This is the list of what we’re testing,” he said, opening his computer again and showing us the chart. After each entry was a long string of code, including the specific genes to target and what combinations to edit in.

Mouse #1 – Control (no change)

Mouse #2 – Larger Ears

Mouse #3 – Smaller Ears

Mouse #4 – Larger Eyes

Mouse #5 – Smaller Eyes

Mouse #6 – Longer Whiskers

Mouse #7 – Shorter Whiskers

Mouse #8 – Increased Body Mass

Mouse #9 – Decreased Body Mass

Mouse #10 – Color change

“We did most of them in pairs,” David said, “which will confirm that we’re doing what we think we’re doing, instead of it being accidental. And we chose things that would be really easy to see and measure.”

“You did all of this today?” I asked. I knew David was smart, but this was seriously impressive.

“I figured out a lot of it earlier this week,” David said.

“What about the tenth mouse?” Amy asked, “what color will you change him to?”

“We’re not exactly sure what genes cause hair color, or how to change colors,” David said. “Hair color is the pigmentation of hair follicles due to two types of melanin: eumelanin and pheomelanin. Generally, if more eumelanin is present, the color of the hair is darker; if less eumelanin is present, the hair is lighter. Since the mouse is white, the bots will edit the gene for eumelanin production, which should make the mouse darker.”

“So are we doing this, or what?” Brad said.

David looked at me. I looked at Greg.

“I’m in,” he said.

“Me too,” Amy and I said at the same time.

David nodded.

“Okay,” Brad said. “I’ve already added in the specific commands. All we have to do is shock each mouse with its unique setting, and the encoded commands should trigger the therabots.” He picked up the first mouse and held it in one hand. With his other hand, he pressed the metal tip of the cord to the mouse’s rump. Part of me was expecting the mouse to just explode or something. But when Brad hit the button on his phone, the mouse just wriggled a little. I wondered how much it hurt.

“How can we tell them apart?” Amy asked.

“I put in RFID’s,” David said, pulling up his phone. “They use electromagnetic fields to identify, track and store information. They’ll tell me where each mouse is and the basic details, like what’s been done and undone, and the latest procedure.”

Brad picked up the second mouse, and scrolled to another programming option. He shocked the mouse and put it in with the first. After he’d finished shocking all of them, he put his phone away.

“What now?” Amy asked.

“Now,” David said, “we wait.”

***

I got a text from David the next morning.

Can you come to school early? Have to show you something.

I got there thirty minutes later and burst into the science lab. David stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the mice.

“Hold up,” David said, “I need to warn you first.”

“Warn me?” I said, “Shit, what happened? Are they all dead?”

“None of them are dead. They are changed. Not exactly as we planned.”

“Great,” I said. “We’ve created mutant, monster mice.”

I pushed past him to look into the boxes, then I pulled back and covered my mouth with my hand to silence a scream.

“They aren’t that bad,” David said.

“No,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “They just surprised me.”

One mouse was the same. Another had ears that stuck up like a rabbit. One’s ears were flappy like an elephant’s. One had eyes as big as dimes and looked very surprised to see us. One looked like a tiny mop, his whole body covered in shaggy hair. One was as big as a hamster, and one was coal black. But the one that made me gasp was the most eye-catching. It looked like a lumpy little ball of skin and hair, with a fat body, almost like a fuzzy lizard with a hump on its back. It looked like something alien; a very tiny abominable snowman.

“That’s why I wanted you to see them first,” David said. “At lunch people are going to freak out. Some may think we should stop.”

“We’re not stopping,” I said. “My sister—”

“I don’t want to stop either,” David said, leaning against the bench and looking down at the mice. “These results are actually surprisingly good. But I thought if you had time to think about things, you’d be better able to convince the others later, if anybody is having second thoughts.”

He was talking about Amy. She’d be the weakest link. Then maybe Greg.

“You’re the most level-headed,” David said. “You think things through, and don’t just blurt out things out. Also, they’ll listen to you.”

That was nice to hear. I wished it was true. David had just never witnessed my outbursts. I guess I only opened up to close friends. I wondered for a second if I was being manipulated. Maybe David thought I was the one likely to start arguing, and was trying to dissolve tensions by showing me the mice earlier in private. Calling me level-headed so I’d control myself later. If so, David was a lot smarter than I gave him credit for. But the other thing was probably true as well. I don’t know why Greg would listen to me, but I could probably sway Amy on anything. And Brad was a wildcard, but he didn’t seem like a quitter.

“We’re not stopping,” I said again. “I’ll handle everybody at lunch.”

David was looking at the mice, but it seemed as if he was looking through them. Like he was accessing some private universe that only he knew the way into. I took a closer look at the mice, marveling at what we’d created. I couldn’t believe it had actually worked.

“Thank you,” I said. I gave David an awkward hug and he stiffened. I didn’t know what made me do it, I was just suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. If not for David, this would all just be a crazy stupid idea. The bell rang and we broke apart. I reached for my bag and David put the mice in our group’s private locker in the prep room next door.

I made a mental note to pick up some cheese for the mice when we did our cafeteria run. It was the least they deserved.

9

When I walked into homeroom, people were huddled together whispering. That usually meant there was an absolutely savage rumor going around school. Could someone have found out about our science project? My heart pounded as I waited for them to turn and point to me with knowing glances, but instead they just ignored me, like usual. I took my seat and let out a sigh of relief.

The greatest development of our generation was happening right under their noses and they couldn’t have been more clueless. Then I saw the posters and relaxed. It was just a Halloween dance. People were talking about their costumes, or who was asking who to the dance. Not my scene. It was just an opportunity for people to show off as much skin as they could get away with at a school function and take a million selfies. It was a useful distraction. Some guys even made elaborate gestures to ask someone to go to the dance with them. It would keep everyone busy while we focused on our project.

I didn’t go to dances, but Halloween was actually my favorite holiday, at least it used to be. Mom always helped us make costumes. Homemade, not store-bought. I hadn’t even thought about how it would be this year, without her.

In first period, rather than breaking us into groups again, Mr. Leister gave us a pop quiz, which I totally failed. I usually crammed every weekend, to make sure I kind of kept up with what was going on in class, but I hadn’t even thought about school recently.

I knew about half the answers for sure, and guessed the rest. Dad and I had an unspoken contract. I’d never been a straight A student, but I didn’t bring home many C’s either. I didn’t need him paying more attention to me. Not right now.

I needed some fresh air after class, and headed outside. There was a courtyard behind the school between the buildings, but it was already occupied. I spotted Greg playing with some of the other boys on the basketball team. Large piles of leaves had been raked into the center, and the guys were having a leaf-fight. Greg laughed, and then tackled one of his friends into the pile. He stood up with a smile, brushing his hair back, then reached out a hand to help his friend up. But his friend pulled him back down and stuffed a handful of leaves in his face.

I laughed, and Greg turned towards me, picking leaves from his teeth. When he saw me and waved, I practically fainted. I glanced over my shoulder warily, half expecting Melissa to be standing right behind me. There was no one around, but that didn’t mean nobody had seen. It was just a wave, but I didn’t want to have another run-in with Melissa.

I glanced at my phone to check the time, and realized lunch had already started. Shit, I was late. And I was supposed to be helping David calm down the group. I hurried to class, and David looked relieved to see me.

“You don’t understand,” Amy yelled as I walked into the room. “These aren’t your mechanical toys. This is life. You’re hacking life!”

“It’s not like we’re Frankenstein,” Brad said. “We aren’t making life, we’re just editing it a little.”

Tell that to the one that died,” Amy said, leaving the room and slamming the door behind her.

“Wait, one died?” I asked, peering into the cardboard box. The ugliest mouse was curled up into a tight ball of leather and fur.

“What did I miss,” Greg asked, coming in the room.

“Nine mouseketeers, one little bundle of death,” Brad summed up.

“What went wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing went wrong,” David said. “Mostly everything went right. The main issue, I think, was that I didn’t account for the body mass variance between humans and mice. Smaller changes in DNA have a bigger impact on the smaller bodies. In humans we might need one or two degrees of variance to see a physical difference, but in a mouse those one or two degrees could make a much bigger impact.

“So it worked too well,” Brad muttered. “What about the dead one?”

“I don’t know… but I’ll take it home and find out,” David said.

“So what’s next?” I asked.

“Listen,” Greg said, holding up his hands. “This was a really cool idea, but this is starting to feel a bit too mad scientist.”

David shot me a look. This is what he’d been worried about.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Brad said.

“Yeah but imagine if those were people. One with ears down to his knees, one with eyes the size of his hand?”

“It’s only the first test. We’ll correct the calculations—”

“Before you test on humans, right? But the first human test could look like this too. Who do you think is going to volunteer for that role?”

“I’ll do it,” I said.

“No way,” David said immediately. “It should be me.”

“Why?” I scoffed. “This whole thing was my idea. Plus you all have bright futures ahead of you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Brad teased. “I heard they need someone to mop up at Dairy Queen.”

“I’m just saying, it will take forever to get the calculations right for humans. We’d have to run tests on thousands of mice—”

“Which we don’t have time for,” I cut in. “My sister, my risk, my choice. Wait…let me go get Amy. She should be here for this.”

I found her standing in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror.

“Those poor mice…” she said.

“Mice are used in science experiments all the time,” I said. “They save human lives.”

“You think that’s what we’re doing?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, without hesitation. “Starting with my sister’s, but then everybody else’s. Right now the government controls the technology and the process. They choose who’s going to get treatment. Even with the new healthcare program, only people who can afford the treatment will be saved. It will take them years to squabble about the ethics, meanwhile millions of people could die. But if everybody had access to this technology, people could be saved. My mom could have been saved.”

“You see yourself as Robin Hood,” Amy said, smiling sadly.

“I’ve always been a bit of a rebel,” I said. “But this is something that matters. We could make a difference,” I said.

“Or destroy the world,” Amy said. At the time, she’d been kidding, and we both smiled at the joke. We were so naïve.

***

Amy followed me back to the classroom. The guys were still arguing, and Greg still wasn’t on board.

“Greg’s right though,” Brad said. “It’s going to take too long to figure out everything. Maybe a hundred mice for each individual upgrade feature.”

“Not a hundred mice,” David corrected, “One or two mice a hundred times.”

“With changes every day, that’s a little more than three months. And just for one feature,” Greg said. “We need to test dozens.”

“There’s one more thing I need to tell you,” David said. “I was waiting for the girls to get back. I built in a reset button. It works just like if you were editing a document, you go back and forth between undo and revert. But it can only work for one stage at a time. So if you get zapped, and then get zapped again without undoing the changes, you’d be stuck with those changes.”

“So you mean,” Amy said, looking down at the mice, “that you can undo this?”

“Yes,” David said. “In fact I set it to automatic. Changes last for 24 hours, then the bots undo everything they changed and revert to the original DNA sequence. I figured it saved a step in our progress.”

“Not really,” Brad said. “Now we need to wait till they turn back again”

“We need more mice,” I said.

“Even so, it would take way too long,” Brad said.

“At least three months, maybe six,” David nodded.

“No,” I said, crossing my arms. “We don’t have that much time. How can we speed it up?”

“You can’t rush this,” David said. “Not if you’re talking about using it on humans. There are too many variabilities. Calculations.”

“Wait—you said the problem was…”

“Mainly the specific mouse to human ratios for degree of genetic mutation.”

“But the NHTC is already using these on humans, so they would have done all that research already.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” David said.

“So why do you need to test for information that’s already out there?”

“It’s probably protected,” Brad said. “Copyrighted. The patent on a specific form of genetic engineering or DNA hacking would be worth billions if it has medical application.”

“Plus it’s the government,” Greg said. “Not just a private healthcare company.”

“Which means, their secrets will be more carefully guarded, and have the US military behind them,” Brad said.

“Yeah, but how hard could it be?” I asked.

“You’d never get into their main server or database,” Brad said. “The security on the building would be crazy. We aren’t cat burglars. But even if we got in, and even if I was able to get into their system, there’s no way we could do it without them knowing and tracking us.”

“But I’ve been in Dr. Jenkins’ office. It’s not exactly Fort Knox.”

“I’m out,” Greg said, crossing his arms. “This is a science fair project, not Mission Impossible. I don’t want my name in a news story about a group of high school kids torturing mice with genetic alterations. That’s the kind of story that follows you. But now you’re talking about what, stealing files from the government? No fucking way.”

“I agree with Greg,” Amy said. “You can’t ask us to break the law, or throw our futures away.”

“But my sister—”

“Even for that,” Amy said, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m really sorry about Megan. But this stuff isn’t safe. I don’t think we should be doing it. Trying to raise quick money to save your sister and risk killing thousands of people? That’s selfish.” The betrayal stung me like a slap. Was I selfish for wanting to save my sister, after having just lost my mom? Maybe. But that didn’t make me a bad person.

“I’m not saying we rush things or kill people,” I said. “We don’t do anything that’s risky. We only test on mice until we’ve got everything figured out.”

“But you want to break into the NHTC’s database and steal files!” Amy shouted. “That’s crazy. You shouldn’t ask people to do that for you. You’re asking us to give up everything.”

This was unraveling fast. I had to get them back on board.

“Okay, I get it. No grand heists. We don’t do anything that’s illegal. I’m just saying we find some way of speeding up testing. We’re smart, we can figure it out. We can at least try. I’m just asking that we try.”

Amy sniffed, but then nodded. I couldn’t believe it was her and Greg against David and I. Brad was unusually quiet, I guess he was just going to stay out of it.

“I recommend we all cool off and wait till tomorrow,” David said. “We can make sure that the changes revert back and the mice are unharmed.”

“Most of them at least,” Amy grumbled. “Unless you want to try raising the dead, or add necromancy to your rap sheet.”

***

I waited for Brad after school next to his black Chevrolet Nova.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw me.

“Can I get a ride home?” I said. “I gave my skateboard to my sister.”

“Um… yeah, I guess so.”

He unlocked the doors and I climbed in the passenger side.

“We need to talk,” I said. He didn’t respond until we’d left school grounds. Then he turned his head and nodded.

“So talk,” he said.

“Maybe we don’t have to hack into the NHTC mainframes,” I said quickly. “Local doctors in the program that initiate treatment probably have the data we need.”

“This is why you wanted a ride home?” he said.

“What, you were expecting more? I thought I wasn’t your type,” I smirked.

“Yeah but why just me, why not tell everyone?”

“The others were set against the idea. I thought maybe we could just take care of it quietly. You’re the only one who could help do it.”

“You sneaky bitch,” Brad said. “Why not David?”

“He seems like a rule-follower.”

“And you and me are terrorists?” He smiled.

“I thought if we found the right files, and gave them to him after we did it, he’d probably use them. Plus, you hacked the 3D printer easily enough. This should be cake for you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. What about the others?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them?” I said.

He frowned. “I don’t like lying.”

“Seriously?” I said.

“It’s toxic. I try to avoid it. It’ll make things weird between us all.”

“We’re not lying, we’re protecting them. If anything goes wrong, they can deny any illegal activity. It’ll just be on me.”

Brad sighed and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. The guitar charm on his leather bracelets caught my eye as it flashed in the sun.

“Fine,” he said finally. “But I have an errand to run first.”

10

We stopped at a grocery store first to pick up some things, then Brad drove to the end of town and pulled into a mobile home park, surrounded by a grove of tall pine trees. It was picturesque, but some of the homes were practically falling apart.

Brad knocked on one of the doors and gray-haired woman answered.

“Hey Grandma,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “I brought you some things.” Brad introduced me as a friend from school, and we stayed for a cup of mint tea. I listened as Brad’s grandmother asked him questions about school. A few times she repeated the same questions, and Brad had to repeat his answers word-for-word. After half an hour, Brad excused himself and gave the woman another hug.

“I’ll come check on you Thursday,” he said. “Maybe we can play some pool.”

“Thanks for coming,” she said, squeezing his hand. “It was lovely to meet you, Brianna. It’s been a while since I met one of Brad’s lady friends.”

“Sorry,” Brad said when we were back in the car. “Alzheimer’s. She has good days and bad days.”

“She’s sweet,” I said. “And lucky to have you.”

We drove across town and I pointed out the hospital. Brad parked across the street, but I wasn’t eager to get out of the car.

“If you’re going to chicken out,” Brad said, “now’s the time. We haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

“No, I’ve got this,” I said, wiping my palms on my dark jeans.

“So what’s your plan?” He asked.

“The computers are probably all on the main system. There must be an office or something. I’ll just login, find the files and send them to a usb drive.”

“You’re just going to walk in there?”

“I’ll say I need to use the restroom.”

Brad rolled his eyes.

“Shit Brianna, you suggested this whole thing. I thought you’d be a little better prepared.”

“Sorry I’m not as devious as your usual cohorts,” I glared.

Brad pulled out his laptop and slid his seat back a little. He placed a device in my hand, but he didn’t let go of it. Then he grabbed his thumb and pulled it off. It was some kind of rubber prosthetic.

“Just use this, okay?” he said, handing it to me.

“What the Hell is that?” I asked.

“Portable thumbdrive,” he said.

“It’s an actual thumb? What are you, James Bond?”

“You just slip it on—it has a wireless usb at the tip, but it needs to be within three feet of a computer to connect. Red light, starting. Green light, done. It’ll copy all the files it can find and clone the whole desktop. And you can do it right in front of someone and they won’t even notice. You should ask if you can see Dr. Jenkins between appointments.”

“Can’t I just sneak into his room when he’s not there?”

“And what, you’ll just wait around in the lobby until he’s not in his room? That’s dumb. Just break down crying or something and say you’re worried about your sister. It’ll need about ten minutes to pull the files.”

I scowled. I did not want to play the weak woman card.

“What? It’s believable.”

“I don’t want to rope my sister into this.”

“You got a better idea? At least it’ll get you in the room. Three feet, ten minutes. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, grabbing the device. I slipped the thumb over my own, took a deep breath, and got out of the car.

Three feet, ten minutes. I repeated it in my head like a mantra. There’s no way I was going to do the whole emotionally fragile routine though, because then Dr. Jenkins would probably call my dad or mention it on the next visit. This was going to be a covert mission. I raised my hoodie to hide my face and ducked under the cameras near the front door, but the receptionist smiled when she saw me.

“Hi Brianna, I didn’t think we were expecting you and your family to come by today. Just let me check the schedule.” Shit, I was hoping she wouldn’t recognize me.

“It’s alright, I don’t have an appointment. I was nearby and I started feeling sick. Would it be alright if I used your bathroom? I’ll be quick.”

“Of course,” she said with a wave of her arm. “No problem at all. Caught a stomach bug maybe?”

“Something like that,” I said with a smile. “Thanks.”

I went down the hall and ducked into the bathroom. I closed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. After a few minutes, I cracked the door open and peeked outside. When the coast was clear, I darted to the end of the hall and started opening doors. The first room had cleaning supplies. The second was filled with files and boxes. The third was a medical closet with samples and lab results. A small computer was tucked into the corner, but it wasn’t turned on. The next room was a nice office, with leather books and a globe on the desk, next to a gold sign saying Dr. Jenkins. This was it.

There was a family photo on the desk next to a green fern, and a computer. I closed the door behind me and locked the door. The device beeped red when I approached the computer, making my whole thumb light up. I thought the most difficult part would be getting in and out, but as I stood there waiting I realized just how long ten minutes was going to be. What if someone found me in here? I might have to pull out the waterworks after all, and pretend I was just worried about my sister’s treatment, which wouldn’t be untrue. He might call Dad, but it would be better than getting arrested for trespassing.

I bounced on my toes as I watched the clock on the wall slowly ticking down the seconds. I was already feeling sick to my stomach when I heard voices in the hall.

“Janice, have you seen my keys?”

“Probably in your office,” a woman’s voice called back.

Shit. His keys were on the desk. Hopefully that would buy me a little more time. I glanced at the clock again. Three more minutes.

I heard muffled sounds as Dr. Jenkins tried to force the door open.

“I must have locked them in there somehow.”

“Here, use mine,” Janice said. I heard the sound of keys jangling outside the door. I wasn’t going to make it. I’d have to abort. But then I wouldn’t get the files, and we needed the files to launch the app, to make money for Megan’s treatment.

My eyes widened as I realized I was already inside the building with the therabots, and the keys to the medical cabinet were right there. I took off the thumb and stuffed it behind the fern, then grabbed the keys and climbed out the window. I shuffled along the ledge out of view just as the door opened. Luckily we were on the side of the building, and only about fifteen feet off the ground. I could jump if I had to. I found the nearest window and stepped into the hall, then ducked into the room where my sister got her treatments.

The cabinet opened on the third key and I grabbed two vials. I felt a little guilty, thinking about the other patients who needed this medication, but it was too late now. They probably wouldn’t miss a couple of vials, and it meant we could run the tests faster. I retraced my steps, going out through the window, hugging the wall until I was back outside Dr. Jenkins’ office. It was empty but the door was open.

I reached in through the window and grabbed the thumbdrive, which now had a green light on it. Then I set the keys back on the desk. Dr. Jenkins would find them later and think he was losing his mind. I hated to just leave them there. I picked them back up and quickly scanned each key with my phone. It might be smart to have a copy. Only for emergencies, I told myself. I couldn’t get in a habit of stealing.

***

I got back into Brad’s car and collapsed into the seat. Then I held up the thumb drive.

“You got it?” Brad asked.

“Yeah I did.”

“Nice. You’re tougher than you look.”

A couple of weeks ago I couldn’t have cared less what Brad thought of me. But now, with adrenaline rushing through my veins, I gave him a bold smile. Brad pulled up outside my house, and promised to send me the files we needed. I was reluctant to get out of the car, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

“We’re here,” he said.

“Yeah, I just... I wanted to say thanks.”

“Sure. I mean, I didn’t really do anything. You’re the one who broke in and stole sensitive government secrets.”

“Still, I couldn’t have done it without you. It means a lot to me. See you in school tomorrow.”

I wanted to go straight upstairs to my room, but Megan was waiting at the door with an impish smile.

“You got dropped off by a boy,” she said.

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did, I saw you.”

“Well, yeah, but not like that. He’s just a friend. We’re doing the science fair project together.”

“Oh,” she said, losing interest.

“How’s the board working out?” I asked.

She shuffled her feet and looked down.

“It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Well, keep at it and it will feel more natural. Let’s practice this weekend, okay? I’ll teach you.”

“That would be awesome,” she smiled. “How’s the project going, did you recover the therabots?”

“Yeah. It’s actually kind of amazing.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“This thing could get big, Meg. Like, money and fame big.”

“Really?” she asked. “So you could still go to college?”

“Have you been worried about that?”

“A little,” she said.

“Well, you don’t need to worry anymore. This thing could make enough to pay for your treatments, and we’ll have enough leftover for both of us to go to college. Sound good?”

She ran up and hugged me around the waist. I ran my fingers through her messy hair.

“But no more questions for now, and we shouldn’t talk about it at home. I need to keep a lid on this thing so that nobody else will steal our idea.”

Megan pretended to zip her lips shut and throw away the key, then grabbed an apple and headed to the couch. I realized she’d been watching more TV than usual, instead of playing outside or riding her bike. And she looked thin, but maybe that’s just because she was growing so quickly and I wasn’t used to her long arms and legs.

When I got to my room, Brad had already sent me an encrypted email with all of the documents from Dr. Jenkins’ computer. I told him that I wanted to be the one to break the news to David, and he didn’t seem at all envious.

Now that I actually had the files, I hesitated. What if David freaked out or told the others? But without them, it would take months to prepare for human testing. I spent several hours reading through the files and studies, but I didn’t understand most of it. I kept at it after dinner, until my eyes were getting drowsy. Then I took a break and made some tea. I grabbed a handful of cookies. Megan had fallen asleep on the couch, so I covered her with a blanket. The blue light from the TV made her look sickly.

Dad was at the kitchen table, frowning over bills, and wearing a pair of round glasses that made him look old. On the last appointment, Dr. Jenkins said the cancer cells were disappearing rapidly, but he also said she needed more treatment. Treatment my dad couldn’t afford.

I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger, but I wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing, while the system let Megan die a slow and preventable death, just because our family couldn’t afford to save her. We’d played by the rules before. We listened to the doctors, waited and hoped for the best. Mom died anyway. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

I gave Dad a hug goodnight, then went back upstairs. I scarfed down the cookies, and before I could rethink it, wrote a message to David. Operating files for NHTS Therabots and supporting files. I attached the documents, and after one final pause, hit send. Then I logged off and went to sleep.

11

I saw David’s text early the next morning.

Where did you get this?

Doesn’t matter. I wrote back. We didn’t get caught.

It was risky.

Not really, I said. Meet early?

K.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” David said, after we closed the door to the science lab. “It’s not fair to make choices for the group.”

“I didn’t. I made one choice, for me. I knew it would be faster to just get what we needed, instead of talking about it. Now you all have deniability. You don’t know where the files came from. You had no idea I was going to steal them.”

David scowled and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “That’s not the point,” he said. “You should have trusted me. I could have helped.”

“Brad helped,” I snapped. There was a pained expression in David’s eyes, and I realized he wasn’t just worried about getting in trouble. He was also hurt that I hadn’t included him.

“I do trust you,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I trust you to be a good person. And I didn’t want to ask you to do something that would be hard for you. I like that you always try to do the right thing. But sometimes somebody has to do the thing that nobody else wants to do. And I trust that, now that we have the files, you know the right thing is to use them so I can save my sister.”

David sighed, then nodded.

“What do we tell the others?”

“Nobody else has to know,” I said. “I guess I just didn’t want to lie to you about it.”

“But you’re happy to lie to Greg? And Amy?”

“Did you have a look through the data? Can we use it?”

“Of course we can use it,” David said. “That’s not the issue.”

“It’s done,” I said. “We can’t change it now. What we can do is stop messing around with Frankenrats and figure out how to make it work on humans.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep me in the loop next time you feel like doing something stupid.”

I wanted to argue, but I needed David on my side, so I just nodded. I had a feeling we wouldn’t always agree on what classified as stupid, but the hard part was over. Now that we had the files, I was confident it would be smooth sailing.

After second period, Amy and I grabbed coffee at a convenience store down the street before meeting the others for lunch.

“So you got a ride home from Brad yesterday?” Amy asked as we were walking back.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I just—what happened to Greg?”

“Besides being in love with super hottie Melissa?”

“I see him looking at you sometimes,” she said.

Wait, what?

I stopped walking so suddenly I spilled some coffee on my shoes.

“Normal guy stuff. Checking out your ass.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Maybe,” Amy said, smiling.

“Anyway, it’s not like that. With Brad. I just needed to talk to him about something.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, looking confused. She could tell I was lying. Now she was going to wonder why. Keeping secrets from her might be harder than I thought.

During lunch, David unveiled a new testing protocol, to speed up results. He didn’t mention the files, and Greg and Amy didn’t seem surprised he’d somehow figured out a solution on his own. It made me uncomfortable that he was lying, for me. But what the others didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. I was just glad we could move faster. Each test brought us closer to human trials, which meant launching the app and making enough money to cover Megan’s treatments.

A week later we’d done tests on over one hundred mice. The original batch of mice had reverted back to normal and still seemed healthy—except the one that died. But we hadn’t had another accident like that since, and I could see Amy was starting to relax. With the data we’d gotten from the NHTC research, David was able to plug the data into his calculations, which reduced the amount of guesswork involved.

Every trial since had gone flawlessly. Each test was a minor variation of factors in the preceding test. Once we’d successfully duplicated the results, David converted the data to correlating human dimensions, and Brad connected the resulting instruction sets with the app we’d made. It worked the same way as Brad’s version did, with the little attaching shocker dongle coming out of the phone, but instead of mostly code, our user interface was cute and simple to use. The only problem was, we couldn’t be sure it really worked, until we tested it. Playing around with the app and testing out features, without actually being able to implement them, was getting old fast.

“We need a name for it,” Amy said, updating her digital avatar for the hundredth time.

“For the app?” Brad asked.

“Something fun and cool,” Amy said.

“SelfX,” I said immediately. I’d spent hours coming up with the name, but hadn’t had a chance to tell the others. “The X makes it sound medical, like RX. More credible.”

“I like it,” Greg said. “Sounds like success.”

“And the X could mean anything you want,” Brad said. “Like, it’s you, times whatever you want to improve. Unlimited self-adjustment, without yoga, meditation, surgery or diet.”

“Sweet,” Amy said. “I’ll start working on a logo.”

“Are we ready to start human trials?” I asked. It had been at least a few days since I’d asked, and this felt like a good time.

“No,” David said quickly. “I need another month, at least.”

“Nothing’s gone wrong at all since the first test. Near 100% success rate, that’s incredible, right?”

“But we can’t say for sure whether our conversion calculations are right. What works on the mice could seriously mess someone up. You can’t risk that.”

“The government was running human trials ten years ago,” Brad said.

“Ten years?” Amy asked.

I kicked Brad under the table. We couldn’t discuss anything from the files we stole.

“Um, yeah,” Brad said. “I read it somewhere. I have no idea how they were able to keep in under wraps with so many people involved.”

“It kind of makes you wonder what they’re doing now if they started that far back,” Greg said. “I mean, they limited the application to basic health care, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have their own closets full of mutant rats.”

“It’s still too dangerous,” David said.

“I’m willing to risk it,” I said. “And it’s my choice.”

“No, it isn’t,” David said. “You’re asking me to conduct unsupervised genetic testing. In a high school. It’s my choice.”

“It’s all of our choice,” Brad said. “We should vote.”

“This isn’t a democracy,” David said. “The majority is rarely right.”

“Spoken like a true tyrant,” Brad said.

“We should operate like a court of law,” Greg said. “No decisions unless they are unanimous. One dissension means no.”

David nodded and smiled.

“I vote with Bree,” Brad said.

“Me too,” said Greg. David looked at him in surprise.

“It seems like the reversion process always works perfectly,” he said with a shrug. “So even if she gets weird, it should go back to normal in twenty-four hours.”

“Don’t forget the mouse that died,” Amy said. “She could have a one-in-ten chance of even surviving.”

“I don’t think that will happen again,” David said.

“Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it,” Amy said. “I mean you’re smart, but you’re not a genius. I’m not risking my best friend for this.”

“I trust David, and we’ve seen the results so far,” I said. “David fixed the problems with the code and everything works perfectly now. All that could go wrong is the calculations, right? And they’ll only last for twenty-four hours.”

“We’d have to supervise you the whole time,” Greg said.

“And not let anybody else see the monster you’ve become,” Brad added, smirking.

Hope flared in my chest as David seemed to be actually considering it, but then he looked up and smiled.

“Only one problem,” he said smugly. “We’re out of nanobots. We used them all on the mice.”

“Oh, you mean these?” I asked innocently, pulling a small glass vial from my pocket.

***

“Where did you get that?” David said, his eyes narrowing at the blue, glittery substance in the vial.

“From Megan’s second treatment. This time I collected urine for a full week, and got twice as many bots.” Actually, I’d mixed in some of the pure therabots I’d stolen from the hospital, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Brianna come on,” Amy said, with a look of exasperation. “How can things possibly have gone from a dead test subject to considering a human trial so quickly?”

“If David thinks it’s safe, I trust him.”

“But we’re just kids,” Amy protested. “We don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“Look at everything we’ve already accomplished,” Brad said. “This is amazing, Amy. Aren’t you excited to share it? To use your app for real?”

Amy bit her lip, and I knew she was faltering. Way to go, Brad.

“I won’t change anything drastic at first. This is 5ml,” I said, setting the glass container down carefully on the table. He was giving my sister one of these each treatment.”

“5ml?” David said, “That’s a lot. Most standard immunizations are just 1 ml.”

“He used a bigger syringe than the ones we’ve got.”

“Wait, hold on, I thought we weren’t doing this,” Amy said. “David said he needs a month.”

“That’s just because he’s a perfectionist. I’m not.”

“So you’re just going to try something and see what happens?”

I smiled at her and shrugged.

“Of course you are. That’s exactly what you would do.”

“It doesn’t have to be you,” David said.

“I need to do this,” I said. “I can’t explain why. Maybe for my mom. Maybe for Megan. Or because I’m bored and reckless, and tired of watching people I love die, and this is the only thing that gives me any sense of hope or purpose.”

Amy was out of objections. Greg and Brad were already on board. I looked at David. He studied me for a moment, then nodded. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, and felt a thrill run up my spine. This was actually going to happen.

“We do it after school,” Brad said. “If she did it now, she might show up to school tomorrow one way and leave another.”

“She shouldn’t be at school at all,” David said.

“But we have to watch her,” Amy said. “In case something goes wrong. And we can’t all skip school on the same day.”

“So what,” Brad asked, “she comes here but hides all day?”

“You guys are overthinking this,” I said. “We do something small. The least risky thing.”

“Hair color,” Brad said. “The hair color has always been right, every time. And how wrong can something go – it’s hair. It’s mostly dead skin and cells anyway.”

Amy nodded. “That seems safest,” she said. “But I’m still spending the night tonight to watch over you. Who knows, you might look good bald,” she smiled wickedly. I stuck my tongue out at her.

“There’s one more thing,” David said, pushing up his glasses. “But it’s going to sound bad.”

We all turned and looked at him.

“We’ve got to document everything. Especially for human trials. We should take before and after photos.”

“Of what, of me?” I asked, paling.

“You mean of her head, her hair, right?” Amy said. Brad was sniggering, and David’s cheeks were turning red. “Really, everything should be, uh, documented. We need to check the whole body for any unexpected changes.”

“You want me to take nude photos?” I asked. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Greg was smiling now and I wanted to die. I was in a room with three boys picturing me naked.

“You don’t have to show them to anybody,” David said. “You can take them yourself and keep them safe. Nobody ever has to see them. But when we finish everything, people may start looking into our process, and we should look more like serious students than kids just playing around with government tech and DNA hacking.”

“Nude photos?” I said again, putting my hands on my hips. The top of David’s ears were turning red now. He was really embarrassed by this.

“It’s not like I’m asking to see them,” he said, frowning, and looking at Greg and Brad for support. They waved him off, laughing.

“This is all you,” Brad said.

“Yeah, you got this, David,” Greg said.

“It’s the right thing to do,” David said, insistently. “It’s a small thing that could become really important later. Especially in the testing phase. Document everything.”

Such a geek, I thought. But I was tired of arguing, and sick of waiting. I’d already won the battle. Why argue about the details?

“Fine,” I said, rolling up my sleeve. “Bot me.”

“We’ve only got the 1ml syringes,” David said, in a final protest.

“Then I guess you’re going to have to stick it in me five times.”

12

The rest of the day passed quickly. I kept expecting to feel sick, and I couldn’t get the image of the dead mousezilla out of my mind. I checked the back of my hands constantly, looking for scales or fur. But that was ridiculous—I hadn’t even used the app yet. We were waiting until after school. My skin felt like it was crawling, and I’m pretty sure my heart was beating faster than before, but that was probably just nerves.

I met Amy by the bike racks after school.

“You sure about this?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Thanks,” I said. “For being with me.”

“Are you kidding?” she said. “Otherwise I’d have nightmares about some grotesque form of you rampaging through the city.”

“We can make it fun. We’ll download some movies and make popcorn.”

“Sounds good. What’ll you tell your dad?”

“You kidding?” I asked. “He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

When we got home, we made some mini pizzas with Megan before she went off to do her homework.

“Did you see the Brieker interview about therabots?” Amy said, finishing her pizza and helping herself to a glass of milk.

“Which one?” I asked. Todd Brieker, founder of Arcana and CEO, was practically a god in tech circles, but in the last few years the only public appearances he made were for product launches, and they were rarely more exciting than a slightly updated version of the aPhone.

“aPhone V7 release at DiscWorld Singapore.”

I pulled up the video on my phone and set it down on the counter so I could grab some raspberry sorbet from the freezer. I was used to seeing Brieker on a huge stage, in front of thousands of viewers, but this was far more casual. Brieker was in jeans and a hoodie. It looked like it was filmed in a hotel lobby after hours, and maybe after a few drinks.

“Gloria,” I said, pressing my fingers together, “search video for therabots.” The video skipped forward a few minutes, then started playing again.

“Money is just a symbol of value,” Brieker was saying. “Of how much you’re helping people.”

“But are you really helping people if you charge for it?”

“You’re assuming philanthropy is without strings, but it rarely is. Take the new therabot program in the states. I’m not saying it isn’t incredible technology. It is. But here you’ve got a government that spies on its own citizens; that suppresses votes to influence elections; that sells information to the highest bidder. And also one, incidentally, who has never been interested in national health care. Because they couldn’t control it. Because they couldn’t profit from it. And now suddenly, they introduce this new program and put information gathering robots inside your body? What kind of information are they collecting on you? If you have low blood pressure, will they put you on a list and sell it to a supplements company? The money is coming from somewhere. If you are not paying for it, you're not the customer; you're the product being sold. At least at Arcana, we’re up front about what we do. Cash is cleaner than philanthropy. You pay for something, you get the service or product, you’re done. When you accept a gift, when someone helps you, you owe them a favor. You’re allowing them to have power over you, control. You’re giving up your personal freedom and autonomy.”

“Are you saying the US government will use therabots to control and keep track of citizens?”

“You’re not listening,” Brieker said, frowning. “Don’t try to twist my words. This is all theoretical. This is all just a conversation. But it’s an important conversation to have, because we are at the brink of enormous changes, I mean, as a species, we’ve never been humans like this before. We’ve never been here before. What we do next, who controls the technology and what they do with it, it’s going to matter. A lot.”

“Sounds like he’s on our side,” I said. “I mean, taking control, personal autonomy, freedom of invention, isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“He’s getting a lot of criticism for it though, people are saying it’s anti-American rhetoric. Arcana’s stock dropped 3% after that video.”

“Ouch,” I said. “I wonder how many billions that is.”

Amy and I went up to my room and closed the door. It was time.

“Ready?” she asked.

“I should take the photos first,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Amy said smirking. “Want me to take them for you?”

“I’ll manage,” I said.

“Come’on, how many chances am I gonna get to do a boudoir photo shoot? How about some mood lighting?” Amy asked with a suggestive arch of her eyebrow.

“Don’t make this weirder than it already is,” I said, pulling off my shirt and grabbing my phone. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. Then I slid my jeans off and stepped out of my underwear.

“Imagine explaining this to Megan,” Amy said through the door. “So what, take a shot from the front, back, and one on each side?”

“Yeah I guess,” I said, fighting the urge to cover my breasts. “It’s not very flattering.”

“Just remind yourself it’s for science, not the cover of Teen Vogue. Nobody else has to see it. Why not have some fun with it?”

“Like what?” I asked.

“I don’t know, make funny faces or poses or something.”

I laughed, and relaxed. I stuck out my tongue and took a few more photos.

“Work it, baby, make love to the camera,” Amy said.

“What are you guys doing?” I heard Megan say.

Amy and I completely broke down with laughter. I got dressed quickly and stuffed my phone into my jeans pocket.

“Just something for school,” I said, opening the door.

“Yeah right,” Megan said, crossing her arms.

“I’m serious,” I said.

“School must get a lot more fun as you get older,” Megan said, before rolling her eyes and sulking off. Back in my room, I pulled up the app and plugged in the little device that would program the bots. We’d started calling it a zapper at school.

“See you on the other side,” I said. I selected hair color, but limited it to just one side. Then I held the metal attachment against my wrist and pressed the button. I was expecting a shock, but instead I just felt a warm current, like a gentle buzzing. I held it for a few more seconds.

“Did it work?” Amy asked.

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” I said.

“Great,” Amy flopped down on the bed. “Enough science. Now we can talk about the dance.”

“What about it?” I asked. Last year Amy invented an environmental protection club dedicated to tree frogs and voted herself president. Even though it didn’t officially have any other members, and it was just something to spice up her college applications, as a club president she had to attend student council meetings and help with school-wide activities.

“Well, it’s Halloween, but we need a theme. Something cool.”

We played around with ideas, getting more and more creative with elaborate and impractical decorations. We were giggling so much that Megan stopped in again. This time we let her hang out with us while she finished her homework.

When I went downstairs for snacks, Dad was watching the news. He must have come home late. I wondered if he’d started taking double shifts again. He gave me a big smile from the living room.

“What?” I asked, my eyes widening. For a second I thought my face was covered in hair or something terrible.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just nice to see you happy. It’s been a while since I’ve heard laughter in this house.”

“Want to join us?” I asked. “We can paint your toenails.”

“No thanks,” Dad chuckled. “What are you girls working on up there?”

“The Halloween dance,” I said.

“Wait, a dance? With a dress and everything?”

“I didn’t say I was going,” I said. “And if I did, I’d wear a costume.”

I kissed him on the cheek and headed back upstairs.

We turned the lights off and projected a movie against the wall. It was something Megan picked out with cowboys and unicorns. As I curled up with Amy on one side of me, and Megan on the other, I felt nervous, but excited. I was doing something to help Megan. Something revolutionary. I was a pioneer.

I kept checking the back of my hands for changes, but after the movie ended it was too dark to see anyway. The only light in the room came from the dragon screensaver on my desktop. Just as I was starting to doze off, I saw the mouse cursor on my computer move by itself. Then I heard a woman giggle. It sounded a lot like my mom.

***

In the morning I went straight to the mirror.

“Does it look more auburn to you?” I said, holding my hair up to the light and turning my head. I’d already sent Megan back to her own bed, saying we had to get ready for school, even though it was still early.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Amy said, pulling a pillow over her head.

By the time we met for lunch, it was noticeably redder than before, though it looked almost pink with my light hair.

“Spill some Kool-Aid?” Brad asked.

“It worked,” David said, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s perfect,” I said. I was worried half of my head would be flame red, but instead it was just a subtle streak of color down one side.

“How do you feel?” Greg asked.

“Fine,” I said. “Same as always.”

“I cut the variance in half after I calculated it,” David said. “Glad I did.”

“Most people won’t even notice.” I’d been wearing a hat for most of the day anyway, just in case.

“It’s a little creepy how well it worked,” Amy said. “Maybe you’re supposed to be a blonde.”

“Lots of women dye their hair,” Brad said.

“This is different,” Amy said, pouting her lips. I couldn’t believe she was still resisting this, even after last night.

“In some cultures they flatten heads, or elongate necks, or crush feet,” I said. “Now girls wear makeup. Humans have always found ways to improve their appearance unnaturally.”

“It’ll be controversial,” David said, “there’s no doubt. But the question is, will people pay for it.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Brad said. “I’m going to add in the final calculations for everything we’ve tested into SelfX. I’ll add in the original calculations you made, David—that would be full strength, like the limit, within the range of human possibility but still pretty unusual or bold— then set choices for 75%, 50% and 25%, so people can have more control.”

“Who gets to go next?” Brad asked.

“We’ll have to wait for Megan’s third treatment to get more bots,” David said.

“Actually,” I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out one of the vials I’d stolen from Dr. Jenkins. “I um, picked this up on my last visit.”

David’s eyes widened, but he didn’t look surprised. I waited for someone to yell at me, but nobody did. We were too invested for that now. It wasn’t just a game, a theory. It worked. None of us wanted to pull back now.

“We still have half of the one we used on Bree,” David said. “I think her sister should get the other half, if she wants it. After all, we used all of hers for the experiments.”

I nodded and smiled at him.

“I want the other half,” Brad said.

“Me too,” Greg said quickly.

“Hold on,” David said, “just because it worked once doesn’t mean it’s safe. We still need to be careful. We should wait until Bree’s bots restore her DNA first, and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“It could still give her cancer or something,” Amy pointed out.

“Could we go a day without the C-word? Besides, what doesn’t give you cancer these days?” I asked. “At least we get to have some control over this one.”

“If anybody else wants to try something overnight, I think I would feel comfortable with that,” David said. “But they shouldn’t do it alone. Just in case something goes wrong.”

“Great,” Brad said. “Slumber party at Bree’s house.”

“You wish,” I said.

“We could just meet in the afternoon,” David said. “Bot up, make our changes, and monitor each other for an hour to make sure we don’t get Quasimodo’d.”

“I see what you did there,” Amy said. “You don’t need to reference 19th century literature. You’re smart, we get it.”

“My parents won’t be home till late, and I have a pool,” Greg offered.

We all turned to look at him slowly. Greg’s pool parties were infamous. I never thought I’d be invited to one.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” Amy said.

“We have tons for guests. Nobody’s even worn them.”

“That’s not weird or anything,” Brad said. “What are you even doing at our school. Shouldn’t you be in some mansion academy somewhere?

“Public schools have better sports programs,” Greg said. “But actually, it’s nice to be able to come to school and just be me, you know?”

“Without all the servants wiping your ass?” Brad said.

“Exactly,” Greg smiled. “So do you guys want to come over or not?”

“Sounds like a plan,” David said. “We can meet and carpool after school.

Just then the door opened, and Melissa stuck her nose in the classroom, followed by her friend Kate. “Hey gang, just checking in on my man,” she said, wrapping her arms around Greg. My stomach turned uncomfortably, and Greg didn’t look happy to see her.

“How are the experiments going?” she asked sweetly, looking into the box of mice. Luckily we hadn’t tested any yesterday, so all the mice were back to normal.

“Dude, you told her?” Brad growled, “Not cool, douchebag.”

David’s face darkened, and his eyebrows came together, but he just watched Melissa cautiously, waiting to see what she was going to do.

“I told Melissa we’re trying to make remote-control mice,” Greg said. It was the excuse we’d decided upon. Something plausible enough that it could be true, and explained all the mice, and didn’t involve genetic mutation. I exhaled slowly, letting out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“Of course, Greg’s never been a good liar,” Melissa said, “So I dropped in to see what you’re really working on.”

“It’s a secret,” Amy blurted.

“How very middle school,” Melissa said with disdain. “Anyway, I don’t care what you’re working on. I’m not even in that class. I care that you’ve been keeping Greg all to yourself. How do you think I feel sitting by myself at lunch every day while he’s in here with you? How does that make me look? Don’t you think people are talking?”

“Nobody’s talking,” I said.

“How would you know what people are saying?” Melissa laughed. “Nobody talks to you.”

I felt my blood boiling and clenched my fists.

“The whole basketball teams is wondering why Greg is spending so much time with you losers. You were forced to work together,” she said, “but you don’t have to enjoy it. Or spend so much time on a lame science project. I mean, Greg, you’re a basketball player, not a geek.”

“Maybe I like this stuff,” he said.

“But you’re good at basketball,” she said, an edge to her voice.

“Whatever, we were just finishing up anyway,” I said. “I didn’t want to be here if they were going to get into a couple’s squabble.

“See you guys later,” I said, pulling Amy with me out of the classroom.

***

I didn’t notice my cell phone was missing until 3rd period. I must have been too distracted by the PDA at lunch. I always thought Greg and Melissa would stay together through high school, but today’s episode was really awkward. Was he starting to see how needy and annoying she was? Despite everything else that was going on, part of me was thrilled at the idea of their relationship going down in flames. I retraced my steps and found my phone in the science lab, face up on the table. Not where I was expecting it to be, but whatever. I texted David to come meet me in the parking lot.

“Hey,” I said when he came. “It was really nice of you to suggest Megan get the dose. Although, I stole it, so really it’s all mine,” I smiled. “But she’ll have her third treatment soon, and then we should have enough for everybody. With all of us testing, we’ll be able to figure things out faster.”

“Why not just run the hack on Megan, so the bots just stay in her system? Then she won’t need more therabots for awhile anyway. It buys us some time.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

It was such a good idea, I could have kissed him.

“Also, I’ve been doing some more research,” he said.

“Of course you have.”

“Retinoblastoma is caused by a mutated RB1 gene. Megan has it in both eyes so there’s a chance it’s hereditary.”

“Which means I’m at risk, too.”

David nodded. “But, we can program the therabots to fix the mutated gene. It was in the files from the NHTC. They already know how to do it, and they know it works. But it hasn’t been approved for human use yet. Maybe because it’s too easy—one treatment should prevent the development of cancerous cells. They need to keep selling the medicine, that’s where the money is.”

“So screw them. We’ve got the bots, we fix Megan ourselves. Right?”

“Right,” he said.

“But you test it on me first.”

13

I’d driven by Greg’s house before, but the building was much larger up close. We had to drive through a locked gate to even reach the driveway. The house itself was some kind of architectural masterpiece, designed by someone famous to blend in with the landscape. I’d seen pictures in magazines, but nothing prepared me for the real thing. It was all angles and planes of glass, set on a rocky outcrop with a stream running underneath it. Water ran down both sides of the main platform, from an infinity pool, into a rocky grotto below.

“This is insane,” Amy said. “I mean it’s like a castle, but more modern.”

“That’s not the pool, is it?” David said.

“No,” Greg said. “Come around back.”

We followed him around the side of the house and used a code to open the gate. In the back, a large patio had been carved between the trees, with an Olympic sized swimming power. White marble statues of cherubs poured water from flowing vases, in between the potted conifer trees that framed the pool.

“Let’s go to the pool house,” Greg said, pointing at a smaller building at the other end of the patio.

“Of course you have a pool house,” Amy said.

“Is it too weird for you?” Greg said. “Maybe we should be at your house?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, this is awesome.”

“Girl’s room, guy’s room,” Greg said, pointing out the two bathrooms on either side of the small building. “You’ll find suits and everything you need in the drawers. Just grab anything.”

I followed Amy into the bathroom, which was spacious enough to have two sinks, and we dug into the cupboards for swimming suits.

“Wear this one,” she said, tossing me a red bikini.

“Um, no thanks?” I said. “Isn’t there something a little more, well, just more?”

“This is your chance though,” Amy said, squeezing my arm and leaning in closer. “You’re at Greg’s house. At a pool party.”

“More of a study group.”

“Whatever. He suggested it. And more importantly, Melissa isn’t here.”

“There’s just a lot going on, with Megan and everything. I want to stay focused.”

“Bullshit. You lose focus every time Greg smiles, and you kind of go all melty. I’ve seen it, it’s like that boy kills brain cells.”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Fine, I’ll wear it,” she grabbed the bikini back from me.

I grabbed a navy one-piece and pulled it on, still feeling self-conscious. It had white stripes on the shoulders and an anchor symbol on the front. I decided it didn’t look terrible and we joined the boys outside. Greg had turned on some music and put out bowls of snacks and soda in the bar area. We pulled some of the beach chairs together into a semi-circle and I cracked open a can of Cherry Coke.

“So let’s talk business...” Brad said once we’d settled. “How are we going to scale this thing?”

“The Halloween Dance,” I said immediately. “It’s coming up. It’s a costume party, which means we can get much more creative without raising alarms.”

“That’s too soon,” David said. “We won’t have everything ready for regular users.”

“It’s not for them,” I said. “It’s for us. We show off what it can do. Before and after photos. Maybe also leak the instructions on the dark web, so other people can get excited. And we release a free version of the app with just a few basic features.”

“And then they can buy upgrades,” Brad said.

“Fine,” David said. “But it’s just us at Halloween. We’ll have had time to test it some more. Then, the free app first. But ported; we share it with the school and some trusted friends. That way we can test small and still pretend it’s just a science fair project.”

“And if all goes well,” Greg finished, “we upload it to the Arcana Store and start charging.”

“Soon we’ll all have houses like this,” Brad said, raising his red plastic cup.

“I’ll drink to that,” Amy said, tapping her cup against his.

We decided to go swimming first, while the sun was still out. I was happy to be in the water. The swimsuit made me feel too exposed and I didn’t know what to do with my arms. Brad’s broad shoulders and chest had more tattoos I expected, and Greg’s washboard abs were distracting enough that I found it hard to think. This was definitely the most skin I’d ever seen at the same time.

We played chicken for a while, first with me and Amy against Brad and David, then with Amy and Brad against Greg and me. Amy knocked me off balance and I pulled Greg under water with me. We came up sputtering and laughing. He brushed my hair away from my face and warmth spread through my body despite the cold water.

But then I looked over at David. He was pretending to read the label on a bottle, but I was pretty sure he’d seen the intimate gesture and disapproved. I don’t know why I cared, but Greg had a girlfriend already. I didn’t want to be that girl.

We dried off and changed back into our regular clothes.

“I brought larger syringes this time,” David said, pulling out the bottle of therabots I’d given him. Do you want to do it in the pool house?”

“Actually, there’s someplace even better,” Greg said. “Follow me.”

We went around the side of a house, and found a trail leading into the woods. Not far away, we could see a treehouse with a rope ladder and a suspended bridge.

Greg plugged in a cord and the whole thing lit up with dangling white lights.

“A love shack, huh? You dog.”

“It was a play fort when we were kids.” Greg said. “All my siblings are in college now so nobody ever comes out here.”

“Very cloak and dagger,” Amy said. “Normally I’d be skeptical about following a man through the woods to an abandoned shack, but I’ll make an exception this time.”

“It’s not exactly a sterile environment,” David said, frowning.

“Does it have WiFi?” I asked.

“Of course, duh,” Greg said, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Then it’s perfect.”

We took turns climbing up the rope ladder. There was a thin balcony around the edges of the platform. Inside was a large room with a fridge, a radio and some comfortable looking beanbag chairs in assorted colors.

David opened up his backpack and pulled out the two syringes.

“Pick something small and easy to see the first time,” David said. “Remember we’re still in the early testing phases. Don’t pick anything you wouldn’t want to get stuck with.” My hair was already starting to fade back to normal, and I was eager to try something else out. I brought up the SelfX app and scrolled through the options. We’d been adding new features all week, and it looked amazing.

Amy had her phone out as well. She was reading something, when suddenly she stiffened and sat up.

“Oh shit,” she said.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I set up news alerts for therabots as a keyword, and this just popped up. There was a break-in at one of the health centers.”

“Here?” Greg asked. “What are the chances.”

“Slim to none,” Amy said, glaring at me. “Please tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

“We needed the files,” I said quickly. “Look how far we’ve come already. Including the government’s research makes our app more stable, less risky—that’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“Don’t turn this around on me,” Amy yelled. “Wait, what are you talking about? The article says someone took a whole box of therabots. 50 vials.”

I grabbed the phone from her and skimmed through the article.

“That wasn’t me,” I said. “I took two vials, but they couldn’t have noticed. And yeah, I copied some files, but there’s no way they could have known that.”

“You should read the comments,” David said, pulling the article up on his phone as well. “It’s crazy. Some people are actually cheering. They’re saying therabots are too expensive, and it’s just a way for the rich to live longer so they can steal more wealth.”

“But I didn’t take a box,” I said. “How would I even carry it out? I barely got out of there with two vials.”

“It was me,” Brad said calmly. We all turned to stare at him.

“Unless we can get some early adopters actually using our tech, we’ll be DOA.”

“It’s one thing to leak instructions and a free app,” David said. “It’s another thing to sell stolen property.”

“Who says I’ll sell it? Plus you didn’t seem to mind when we gave you the files.”

“Hold up. You were in on this?” Greg asked quietly.

David nodded, and Amy gave me a look of absolute betrayal.

“I needed Brad’s help,” I said, “and David’s the only one who needed the research, for the calculations. We wanted to spare you two.”

“I can’t believe you sometimes!” Amy said.

“How did you even get in?” I asked Brad. He looked uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his neck.

“That thumbdrive, it sent me everything in a 3-foot radius... including your phone.”

My eyes went round. Brad had been in my phone? What else had he seen?

“I didn’t look at anything,” he said quickly, “I just found the pictures you took of the keys. I had them 3D printed and used the key machine outside of the grocery store to clone them. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Because,” David said slowly, “before we were mostly operating outside the law, in a very gray area of legality. But now, there will be an investigation. There could be cops, detectives.”

“Relax, they’re not going to think it’s some high school kids,” Brad said.

“Not until we launch the app,” I said. “It draws attention to us, to our town. National attention. If someone from the same town publishes a revolutionary therabot hacking app, how long do you think it will take the FBI to figure it out?”

“I don’t think the FBI would investigate,” Brad said. “Maybe CIA.”

“It was stupid, and reckless,” I said.

“We needed it, didn’t we? To do more testing. To speed up the process. Like you wanted.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” I said.

“We’ve already done it once, what’s the difference?”

“I only took a couple bottles. Of course they noticed a whole box disappearing. They’re probably already looking for us.”

“Why on earth do you even need that many?” Amy asked.

“Some kids aren’t going to be okay with peebots,” Brad said.

“So what, you sell them? That’s too dangerous.”

“We need beta users. People pay for SelfX. But we distribute the therabots for free. Anonymously. Like Robin Hood.”

“They’ll still find us,” I said.

“So we finish the app and go public. Make sure we’re news. If we’re news, they can’t mess with us. The public will support us.”

“Doubtful,” Amy said. “We’re a bunch of teen deviants. Criminals.” She said distastefully.

Greg covered his hands with his face and shook his head.

“I told you, I can’t be involved in this,” Greg said, standing up suddenly. “I think you all need to leave.”

“Seriously?” Brad asked. “What happened to botting up?”

“I changed my mind. We can’t do this here, not at my house.”

“Fine with me,” Amy said, crossing her arms. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said.

“Don’t,” she said. “I don’t want to say anything I can’t take back later, and I’m too angry to talk to you right now.”

“Aren’t you overreacting a bit?” Brad asked Greg. “I guess it’s true what they say about athletes. All muscle and no balls.”

Greg pushed Brad so hard he stumbled backwards and tripped over a pillow, knocking into David and me like a pair of bowling pins. Amy was halfway down the ladder already, but I was so close to the edge my foot slipped. I waved my arms wildly but couldn’t regain my balance. At the last second, David’s hand lashed out and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me back into the tree fort and I collapsed on top of him so hard we bumped noses. I rolled off him, gasping for breath and feeling like an idiot. How stupid would it be to die from clumsiness, when I had advanced technology keeping me healthy from the inside?

***

David gave me a ride home, but we barely talked.

“See you tomorrow?” I asked.

“We’ll see,” David said. I watched him drive off, then headed inside.

Megan raised her eyebrows when I came in and smiled.

“Don’t,” I warned, before she could tease me about being dropped off by another boy. I went straight to my room and threw myself down on my bed. I knew Amy would forgive me, eventually, but we didn’t have time to wait for her to simmer down.

And Greg looked seriously pissed off. He couldn’t just quit—not now that we were so close. He knew too much. Would he turn us in? Brad was exactly the asshole we’d always thought he was, only thinking of himself. Part of me hated him for breaking into my phone, but I couldn’t blame him too much. Stealing the files had been my idea, and I’d opened the door by taking the first two vials.

And having more therabots would have been super handy... but not sharing it with the others had broken the trust. I didn’t see how we could work together after this. But for some reason the thing that bothered me most was getting invited to Greg Masters’ house, and then being asked to leave. It was humiliating. At least Melissa would be happy.

I grabbed my sheets and twisted them into knots around my fists, then screamed into my pillow.

A few minutes later there was a timid knock on the door.

“Go away!” I yelled. There was a moment’s pause, then light steps away from the door. Great, I’d just yelled at Megan. Guilt gnawed into my bones.

I forced myself up and grabbed my headset and visor. Then I logged into WOL. I was hoping David was online, I needed someone I could talk to. Instead I saw a string of messages from Jens.

You don’t login for weeks, then I see you in Planet Plunder with some loser? What the hell?

He’s just a school friend, I lied. I was showing him the ropes.

It’s a waste of your talents. Ready for something more challenging?

I’m not sure I’m up for it today, I said. Not in the mood.

Jens usually filled his gaming with jokes and trash talk. Normally I appreciated the banter, but today I was too miserable.

Meet me here, Jens said, giving me the coordinates to a new planet. I need your help with something.

We were standing in a meadow full of red poppies, on top of a steep mountain. Jens’ avatar looked like a viking warrior, with a red beard, double battle axes and war paint on his chest. I had no idea what he looked like in real life.

His eyebrows lifted when he saw me.

“New gear?” He asked.

I shrugged. David had given me a few of the diamonds we’d earned from the dragons and I’d bought a long staff. One end held a large glowing crystal, with a skull inside, etched with runes. It was nearly as tall as I was, and attached to a silver chain around my waist, so I could toss it at enemies and use it as a counterweight. I’d also changed into a dark, lacy skirt. Jens led me around a rocky incline and we emerged on a plateau, which narrowed into a sliver of rock protruding over a deep canyon. On the other side of the chasm was a rock face of a cliff, going up so high it blocked out the light from the dual suns of the planet.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“There’s something up there,” Jens said pointing. “A rare booster. But there’s no way up. If you jump, and survive the lava and army of living skeletons at the bottom, it takes hours to climb back up here. But there must be a way across, because this ledge looks like it goes somewhere, right?”

I frowned and bit my lip. The cliff face was completely smooth, with nothing to cling onto.

“Have you tried flying?” I asked, remembering David’s wings. Not everyone could fly, but there were plenty of vehicles or enchanted animals in WOL.

“There’s a Titan on top,” Jens said. “I think it’s motion activated. As soon as it sees movement, it creates a storm of falling meteors. Death on impact.”

“If it’s there, there must be a way to get it.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jens said.

“What about thermal energy?” I asked. “You said there was lava down below. If we toss all the trees into the chasm, they’ll burn and send heat vapor and smoke, it’ll cause lift. It’ll blow us up higher, without flapping, and also provide some cover.”

Jens looked at me with pure admiration.

“What?” I asked.

“You know why I keep you around?” he asked.

“Because I put up with your diva bullshit?”

“You’re a problem solver. Always have been. I mean, thermal energy? How do you even come up with this stuff?”

“We don’t know if it’ll work,” I said.

“It’ll work,” Jens said.

“We just need something with a large surface area to catch the hot air.”

Ten minutes later, we’d chopped down a dozen trees and hauled them to the edge of the chasm. A warm glow oozed through the ravine far below. The suns were setting, casting deep shadows across the alien landscape.

We’d found a large banner hanging from the wall of a nearby castle, and wrapped the corners around our wrists. Then we kicked the trees over the edge. Sparks erupted and I felt the warmth as the canyon filled with roaring flames.

“Now!” Jens yelled.

I took a deep breath and threw myself off the cliff. For a few seconds, we tumbled out of control, but then the fabric ballooned above us, halting our decent suddenly. The warm air lifted us up, hundreds of feet, towards the top of the cliff. We were almost there when I smelled smoke. A spark had caught on the fabric and it was burning.

“We’re not going to make it,” I said. Our ascent slowed just as we were even to the top of the cliff. I could see the Titan, a monstrous beast as large as a building, with tusks and tentacles and eight eyes like a spider. I gasped when one of the eyes rolled and stared at me. Then we started losing altitude. Jens flung himself towards the cliff, burying his ax into the stone, but it broke off in a shower of sparks and he plummeted. My brain was furiously sifting through my inventory, looking for anything I could use. Then I saw it. I still had two diamonds left. I tied them against my palms with a scrap of fabric and launched myself towards the cliff. I slid at least twenty feet before the diamonds caught. They were sharper than the stone and cut deep grooves into the cliff. Very slowly, I started pulling myself up, hand over hand. I was sweating with exertion when I reached the top. I was too weak to fight a Titan, but maybe I didn’t have to. I rolled to the side as a tentacle slapped down next to me, hitting the ground so hard the edges of the cliff crumbled and fell away. None of my weapons would be able to inflict enough damage to destroy this monster. I’d need the help of an army.

The Titan let out a roar that shook the ground. The shrieking was so loud it caused physical damage and drained my life bar. But I wasn’t out of moves. I slammed the staff into the dirt, and the skull inside the gemstone burned brightly, then vanished. My shadow pulled away from my feet and gained solid mass; a perfect replica of me. I threw up an invisibility shied, while sending my doppelganger racing to the side.

It was the first time I’d been able to test out the new staff, which allowed me to cast a shadow twin. I had no idea whether or not it would work on a Titan, but it seemed to take the bait. It slammed into the ground again and again, increasingly frustrated that it couldn’t make contact with the surrogate me. The platform continued to split and crumble, forcing me closer to the beast’s massive tentacles and poisoned fangs. Then the pillar collapsed completely. I ran up the side of the Titan, jumping off its tusk and hurling myself at the powerup. I barely reached it before plummeting towards the burning lava.

But the mountain covered the burning lake, cooling into a pile of volcanic rock. My spell was spent, and my shadow reattached to my feet. I rooted myself to strike as the Titan gathered itself above me. It was half scorched from the lava, with pieces of melting flesh dripping from its limbs. I raised my staff, but spun when I heard a chorus of undead voices behind me. The skeleton army, freed from the abyss, came rushing out of the depths like a roaring river. I cringed, but they parted around me, attacking the Titan instead. In seconds, they’d sliced the Titan into a thousand pieces. A hundred skeletons tore open the Titan’s ribs, revealing its still-beating heart. The army’s leader, a long-dead king still wearing a golden crown and smeared with blood, cut the heart open. The organ was as big as a car, and inside was a glowing silver key, which the king harvested and presented to me.

I logged out with a huge smile, pulling off my VR gear.

I couldn’t believe I’d just done that.

Not in the mood my ass. Jens messaged a moment later.

I guess I had some steam to blow off.

How’d you even survive up there long enough for the Titan to destroy the pillar? How’d you know the skeleton army would help you?

A lady never tells, I wrote back.

Actually I had no idea that would happen.

Anyway, nice gaming. Seriously, you surprise me more every time we hang out.

I wish everyone felt that way, I typed.

What, your loser classmates don’t appreciate you? Their loss.

I’ve been working on this school project. It’s cutting-edge tech, but risky. Everyone else is backing out.

If the rewards are big enough, they’ll take the risk. But it has to be their choice. Don’t wait for them to catch up, just show them what’s possible.

Even though it was just a game, I felt a rush of accomplishment and pride. In the game, I could be anything, do anything. I just had to find a way to share that experience with the group, in the real world. A few strands of hair weren’t going to cut it.

I grabbed my phone and opened up the SelfX app. If this was going to catch on, I had to show the others what we were truly capable of.

14

When I came downstairs the next day, Dad almost spit out his coffee. Megan stopped chewing, letting her jaw hang loosely.

“You look like a supermodel,” she said.

“It’s just makeup,” I said quickly. “Lots of makeup. Too much?”

The full effects hadn't even kicked in yet. I looked like me, just better. Several subtle changes added up to make a big difference. Poutier lips, thinner waist, wider hips. I’d added two inches to my height, which made my legs look long, and my skin was so smooth and polished it practically glowed. My eyes were a little rounder and my eyelashes were dark and full. I was me, 2.0.

I was wearing a leather jacket and a lowcut blouse. A navy skirt and heeled boots completed the outfit. I posted a quick selfie while leaving the garage with the hashtags #wokeuplikethis #nofilter #nomakeup #selfX. Normally I would have tried to fit in and be invisible, but today I needed all eyes on me, and it worked. Heads turned when I strode into school. I even saw Melissa’s jaw drop.

I ducked into class as soon as I could, being out in the hall still made me feel vulnerable. I’d have to figure out a confidence gene.

When we’d divided into groups for Mr. Leister’s class, nobody said anything for a few minutes. They were all just staring at me, trying to figure out what I’d changed.

“Your nose,” David said. “The curve of the nostrils is smaller, and more defined.”

“It turns out cartilage changes shape easily,” I said.

“And your eyes, obviously,” Brad said. My eyes were normally olive-gray, but now they were vivid emerald, and rimmed with dark green.

“And your lashes?” Amy asked. “Did we even have a feature for that?”

“Even better,” I said. “I found a genetic abnormality in the FOXC2 gene that causes a mutation known as distichiasis. It leads to an extra row of eyelashes above the top and bottom lash lines. Liz Taylor was famous for it.”

I leaned forward so they could see the double rows of lashes that were already growing in.

“Wow,” Brad said. “That’s trippy.”

“You did all this yourself?” David asked.

“A lot of it was in the app already, I just made some minor changes. I just wanted to show you, what we’re capable of. I means, it’s incredible, right? We’re on the ground floor of the next step in human evolution. Nobody else has been able to do this. Think of the possibilities.”

“No kidding,” David said. “I mean, deliberately editing a gene to cause a rare genetic abnormality...” David trailed off. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“So what are we talking about here?” Brad asked.

“I did a lot of research last night. There’s a mutation in the MSTN gene that limits myostatin—the protein that tells muscles to stop growing. Humans with disorder have muscular bodies with very little fat. You can also disable the PCSK9 gene; people without that don’t need to worry about high cholesterol and are 90% less likely to suffer from heart disease.”

“What about LRP5?” David asked. “It regulates the production of a protein used in bone density. A mutation was discovered when a man involved in a serious crash didn’t suffer any fractures or broken bones.”

“Wasn’t that a movie?” Amy asked.

“Based on a true story; it’s just a very rare genetic mutation.”

“There’s a mutation of ACTN3 people call the sports gene,” I added, looking at Greg. He’d been quiet so far and I knew he was still pissed, but he perked up so I continued. “It involves how fast muscles move. Many of the fastest runners in the world have it. There’s also a superathlete gene that comes from a group known as the Denisovans, who lived in mountains in Asia 40,000 years ago. The gene results in an increase in oxygen-carrying hemoglobin, which allows the body to distribute oxygen with super-efficiency.”

“You’re making this up,” Greg said.

“One more,” I said. “A genetic mutation called marfan syndrome. It makes people tall, with longer limbs and incredible flexibility.”

There was a thoughtful pause, and I knew they were on the line. I just had to reel them in.

“I just wanted to show you, it’s more than just cosmetics. It’s more than just looking more attractive. There are functional applications. Imagine being the fastest or strongest or smartest person in the room. In the world.”

“It’s risky,” David said. “You shouldn’t have tested all this on your own, not all at the same time.”

“I had to show you what was possible. And anyway, don’t forget the primary function of the therabots: curing disease, healing cancer. Don’t let someone else take this away from us.”

“And what happens when the cops show up and arrest us?” Greg said. “This could jeopardize our futures.”

“We play it cool for a few weeks,” Brad said. “Make sure we’re in the clear. But if this thing can do everything Brianna says it can, they’re not going to lock us up. We’d be heroes.”

“Not good enough,” Greg said.

“We’ll keep your names out of it,” I said quickly. “If we launch the app, there will be nothing leading back to either of you. Equal share of the rewards, but none of the risks. If things go south, Brad and I will take all the responsibility.”

Amy and David both frowned at this, and Brad looked like he was going to argue, but nobody said anything to contradict me. It was an uneasy alliance, but that’s all I needed.

“If we do this,” Amy said finally. “No more secrets. We’re all in this together.” Each of us nodded our agreement, then Brad pulled five vials of therabot solution out of his backpack.

“One for each of us. It’s only fair, right?”

“But it’s not mandatory,” I said. “It’s optional. You can try it if you want to, but you don’t have to,” I said, looking at Amy.

Greg took one of the bottles. I took one for my sister. Then Amy took one.

“I’m not going to use it,” she said. “Not now anyway. But if we’re all getting one, I’m taking mine.”

“We only use SelfX at lunch,” David said. “Together. We monitor and record all the changes. We only test settings that have been tested on the mice first. We do 50%, then change back. And nothing noticeable or remarkable. If it’s visible and obvious, we cover it up or stay home and text each other. And we document everything with selfies. And we don’t talk to anyone about this. Agreed?”

Greg put his hand in the circle, like they do before basketball games.

Brad smiled and put his hand in too. David and I were next, and finally, Amy.

“Go team!” I jumped and did a really lame cheerleader pose that made everybody laugh.

“Oh, one more thing I learned that’s pretty awesome,” Brad said. “You don’t have to use the needles.” He opened a vial of bots, twisted off the lid and knocked it back like a can of soda. David’s jaw nearly fell off.

“It goes straight into the bloodstream,” Brad said. “I tested it at home on my pet hamster.”

“Well that sucks,” I said, massaging my arm, which was still red from all the shots.

“The only question left is,” Brad said with a dramatic pause, “what do we want to look like tomorrow?”

***

Over the next week we were secret chameleons. For the first few days, I half expected to hear sirens and a police raid. But when nothing happened, we started to experiment in earnest. At lunch we’d meet up and compare notes. We started choosing our own upgrades and making each other guess what we did. I think Brad was using it as an excuse to stare at Amy’s torso, and a few times I caught David trying not to do the same thing to mine. We started small. Amy’s eyelashes were a little longer. Greg grew by two inches. David corrected his vision so he didn’t need glasses. The worst thing that happened was Brad suddenly sprouting patches of thick nose and ear hair.

Nobody but us noticed any of the changes. With each test, David and Brad made corrections in the source code, fine-tuning the application. After swallowing that 10ml vial, Brad figured out that having more bots increased the transition time. So he drank another vial, and got changes to appear in only six hours. That meant we could test things out faster.

I got Brad to figure out wild hair pigmentation, and made a custom setting. The front of my hair started out bright pink, then turned to turquoise before fading into my normal dark hair color. We also agreed to start upstacking, which is what we called doing more than one upgrade at a time. We’d make one “stack” of several features. Slight changes that together made a perceptible difference. With my colorful hair, I added a slight pout to my lips. I made my eyes a little bigger and wider, the color of my eyes a more vibrant green. I took Amy’s long eyelashes. It was noticeable, but subtle. When my dad asked me what I was doing different, I just said I’d started wearing makeup. Everybody else bought the same excuse.

That wouldn’t have worked so well for the guys, but they weren’t doing much with their features. They all seemed to be more focused on utility rather than appearance. Greg added height, balance and agility. He also boosted muscle mass in his legs, which he said let him jump almost a foot higher. Brad did the same thing to his upper body. He didn’t become the Hulk or anything, but now I could make out the muscles under his T-shirts when he moved. Broader chest, bigger shoulders, even his forearms looked sleek and chiseled. And he did this thing with his eyes that made them crystal blue. I’d never found him attractive before but something about making eye contact with him now made my body react in ways I wasn’t comfortable with.

Of course David hardly focused on his looks at all. He fixed his vision. Then he boosted his immune system and the ability to digest more nourishment from food (which Brad thought was totally lame, but David said gave him more energy and concentration). And he was a little obsessed with IQ tests. He’d been trying to boost his IQ by a few points per day. I thought he probably could have hacked it and just gone up to 160, but he was playing by his own rules. Small changes. Nothing unnatural or obvious.

On Friday, Amy came to school in a tight sweater.

“Woah,” I said.

“Finally,” Brad said, staring at her chest. She’d gone up at least a couple bra sizes.

“Now that’s what I call a good use of technology,” Greg said. Seriously?

“What?” Amy said, “I’m just trying a new pushup bra. Like it?” she stuck out her chest even more and turned and modeled for the guys. They gave cat calls and whistles.

“Why do guys care so much about boobs anyway?” I said. I was a little bitter. I thought going immediately for bigger boobs seemed desperate, or cheap somehow. I thought Greg would appreciate my colorful hair and subtle facial features. I mean, I looked awesome. Maybe not Melissa-awesome. I was still me. Just cuter. But guys don’t notice subtle.

David and I had also been working on my RB1 gene. I didn’t have cancer; I only had a genetic predisposition towards it.  David programmed my bots to reduce the genetic defects, which meant my RB1 genes probably wouldn’t mutate, and I probably wouldn’t get Retinoblastoma. It was hard to tell whether or not it was working, but at least nothing bad happened.

“It might not do anything,” David said, “but it might keep the cancer in check, for now, until you have the money to continue treatment. And we can add in the immune system boost I made.”

“Thank you,” I said. We agreed to treat Megan next week.

The fight at the treehouse seemed like ancient history, and we’d come together stronger than ever. We even started hanging out at lunch or between classes. Almost like we were all friends.

“We need to talk about going public,” Brad said, after the second week of experiments. “I know what you’re going to say,” he continued, when David opened his mouth, “It’s too soon, we need more tests, blah blah blah. But look, everything is working great. I mean, this is pretty fucking awesome, am I right? This is billion dollar stuff. But if we’re figuring it out, somebody else probably is too. We need to be first to market.”

“There’s only five of us. That’s a tiny trial study, it’s laughable. They’d still say we rushed it and were jeopardizing lives.”

“I’ll take all the credit,” Brad said. “Problem solved. You all stay out of the public limelight and scrutiny, I’ll deal with that stuff. I’ll just send you your checks.”

“If anybody should be the face of the company, it’s probably not you,” Amy said, eyeing his piercing and black leather cuff bracelets.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Brad asked. “We’re all minors. It’s not a violent crime. It’s not even against the law, as far as we know.”

“Only because nobody has done it yet. They might make it illegal as soon as we publish.”

“But they couldn’t punish us for it.”

“They could punish us for stealing the therabots,” David said.

“Only if they know we stole them,” Brad said. “And they won’t. They can’t prove it. And none of us are going to talk, right?”

“I think it’s likely some people won’t understand and we’ll be vilified.”

“And we might also end up on the cover of Wired magazine,” Brad said. “We protect ourselves. With fame and money. Who cares what people think if we’re rich?”

“What if we keep it small first,” I said. “Make it all anonymous.”

“How would that work?” Greg asked.

“We release the app. Black market version only. Just our school. We keep it secretive. Everybody gets an anonymous text with instructions, and a link to download the app to their phones, and a note in their locker with one vial. We give them warnings, conditions, a consent form to sign. Instructions. Precautions. Make a really detailed user guide.”

“We could get them to post their results with us. Private server. Before and after pictures. At least we’d get a few dozen more test subjects,” David said. “And they’ll be local so we can troubleshoot or help if we have to. It’s still messy though. We wouldn’t know who is doing what if they didn’t want to share.”

“We keep the program simple,” I said. “50% effect strength only. Only our safest settings, and only the ones we’ve all tested.”

“And it should be free,” Greg added. “Free at first. Less chance of a lawsuit against us if we charge and something goes wrong.”

David and Amy nodded. They were reluctant, but this was the obvious next move.

“Alright, fine,” Brad agreed. “But can we use it to prelaunch at least? We get people to post their pics or videos on social media. Snapchat, Webbox, Instagram, Squirlz. Hashtag #SelfX. No other information. No website, nothing for sale, just buzz. We don’t mention therabots at all yet. But get people wondering what SelfX is.”

“It’s a good idea,” Greg said. “From a business perspective.”

“It’s a crowdsourced, open source genetic coding project. All volunteers.” I say. “If the story breaks too early or someone leaks it, it’s a science fair project gone wrong, but it’s a local issue. We can just pretend to be young and stupid kids. They’ll forgive us. Once we launch the app for sale as a real business, and make it open to the public, that’s when things will get scary. But Brad’s right, if we know for sure the app is safe, going public and getting publicity might be good for us.”

I was excited we had a plan. A good plan. That was mostly my idea. Greg had complemented me on it. Better than nothing, though I’d rather he liked me for my body than for my brain. I fantasized about putting my pouty lips all over his face and neck, and him kissing me from behind, pressed up against the desks in the science lab.

At least I did until I got the nude picture of myself in a text message.

I didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. ;)

If you don’t stay away from my boyfriend I’ll send these pics to everybody.

♥♥Melissa♥♥

15

My skin crawled, and I struggled to catch my breath. Melissa had naked pictures of me. And she was going to destroy me with them. I tried to find a solution but my thinking was cloudy and slow, like stepping through a swamp. I excused myself quickly, but I felt eyes following me down the hall. I was used to the stares—I’d honed my basic upstack, and people were still getting used to my new look. My features were refined and slightly exotic: my eyes were piercing green, and I kept a strand of pink hair down one side. But right now the extra attention made me feel like I had a target on my back.

I made it through the end of school, spending breaks in the bathroom. When I final bell rang, I went straight home. Dad was waiting for me in the living room.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For what?” I said.

“Megan’s last treatment,” Dad said.

Guilt ate through me. I couldn’t believe I’d been so wrapped up in SelfXing I forgot about Megan. I realized we’d barely spoken all week, and I still hadn’t showed her how to ride the skateboard like I’d promised. I shook my head to clear it. I couldn’t worry about Melissa right now. Megan needed me.

On the ride over, I was anxious about getting called out in front of my dad by the receptionist. I drew a breath of relief when I saw it was a different girl today. My pulse raced when I noticed they’d installed security cameras since my last visit.

I waited for Dr. Jenkins to point at me and accuse me of theft, but he didn’t treat me any different from usual. Maybe we really were safe. Dr. Jenkins gave Megan her shot, the last dose of therabots, and then pulled up a chart on his wall screen, enlarging it with his hands.

“I have something exciting to tell you,” he said, pointing to the chart. “This was the cancer when we started the treatment, and this is today’s scan.” He flipped to another image. “As you can see, the cancer is almost completely gone.”

“She’s cured?” Dad asked.

“Well I wouldn’t say cured, but the cancerous cells have been entirely eradicated by the therabots, so I think this treatment has been 100% effective. It really is a miracle.”

Dad stood up suddenly and grabbed Megan. He lifted her up and spun her around, before holding her close to his chest again. I thought I saw a tear on his cheek but he wiped it away before shaking Dr. Jenkins’ hand so hard I thought he’d break it.

“We’ll check back in a month,” Dr. Jenkins said. “If the cancer comes back without the therabots, she may need more treatment. And since the technology is so new, we can’t be certain of the long-term effects. But I wouldn’t be surprised if Megan is fully recovered.”

Afterwards we all went out to ice cream. Dad smiled more than I’d seen him smile in years.

“How’s the science fair thing going?” Dad asked. I didn’t know he was even aware of the project, maybe Megan told him.

“It’s kind of amazing, actually, what we’re working on.”

“It’s been nice, to see you busy. Making new friends. Getting excited about a project.”

“Wearing makeup,” Megan said, pointing at my face. “Hanging out with boys...”

I’d started wearing cosmetics lately to mask the changes. I’d caught Dad staring at me a few times, but he hadn’t really said much since that first day. I basically looked like my own hot sister; like I’d gone in for a photoshoot, and then they’d Photoshopped my features to perfection. Now he was really looking at me, for the first time in a long time, and I could see the confusion on his face. But I’d turned off the effects as soon as I got Melissa’s note, so I was probably half way back to normal already.

“Well I guess it was too much to hope for, thinking you’d be my little gear monkey forever,” Dad said, using the nickname he’d given me years ago.

“I’ll always be your gear monkey,” I said, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Something felt different, and I looked down to see what it was. My eyes widened when I realized he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring.

He pulled his hand away suddenly and hid it under the table, then glanced at Megan. She was busy building a castle out of her ice-cream sundae.

I waited until Megan went to the bathroom.

“I guess we’re all going through some changes,” I said quietly.

“It’s not like that,” Dad said. “I sold the ring. I was afraid Dr. Jenkins would need more money; I wanted to be prepared.”

“But it was just a gold band, it couldn’t have been worth that much.” The pained expression on Dad’s face clued me in.

“You sold Mom’s, too,” I said. My stomach clenched painfully. Dad always said he was saving Mom’s antique diamond solitaire for me; it was her grandmother’s.

“Mom would have understood,” Dad said. “The most important thing is that Megan keeps getting the treatment she needs.”

I nodded, trying to keep the disappointment off my face. Dad must feel terrible already, and I didn’t want to ruin the evening for Megan. I wanted to tell him that Megan would be safe, that I’d take care of the money, that I was working on something that could change everything... but I couldn’t.

I was starting to understand how Brad felt. I hated lying and keeping secrets. It was toxic, a little burning pit of anxiety, a cloud followed me everywhere, with every interaction.

We were almost home when I got another text. I held my breath, expecting another message from Melissa, but it was from Greg.

Hey

I didn’t write back. Why was he messaging me?

Two hours later I got another notification.

U there?

Don’t text me. I typed back furiously. Talk tomorrow.

I just want to ask you something...

I didn’t write back, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the blinking ellipsis. Greg Masters was texting me. And it looked like he was writing a novel. When the message finally came through though, it was short.

Will you go to the dance with me?

I stuffed the phone back in my pocket. What were the chances that Melissa and Greg would start texting me the same day? I smelled a setup. And there’s no way I’d go to the dance with Greg. At least not with Melissa around. And definitely not while she had naked pictures of me.

I’d actually been expecting David to ask me. I hadn’t decided yet whether to accept. If Brad and Amy joined, the four of us could have a lot of fun. I’d assumed Greg would go with Melissa.

I didn’t want to write back, but after an hour of staring at my computer screen and wasting time watching music videos on YouTube, I grabbed my phone again. Greg and I had been getting along well recently, and I’m pretty sure I’d caught him looking at me a few times. I knew he was only interested in me now that I was pretty, but so what?

What about your girlfriend? I asked.

We’re done.

Another text came a minute later.

I’ll pick you up. Just be ready.

Be still my beating heart. It was like a fairytale coming true, but I had to turn it down because of those stupid photos David made me take. It wasn’t fair. I took a shower, then wiped away the steam on the mirror and studied my reflection. Most of the mods had faded, and I was me again. It was like getting kissed by a prince, and then turning back into a pumpkin at midnight, or however the story went. Greg probably wouldn’t want to go with me once he remembered what I really looked like.

After Dad had gone to sleep, I went into Megan’s room and lay down next to her.

“My friends and I, we found a way to get the therabots to say in your system, so they won’t get flushed out. I’m glad you’re okay, but it would be useful to keep them around, right? They can keep running their program and keep you healthy longer. Also, we modded the gene that causes eye cancer. It should help keep you safe.”

Megan’s eyes widened.

“Will I be able to play with your app?” she asked.

“We’ll see. Maybe a little, but only the basic settings. I might get away with extra makeup, but Dad would freak out if we tried to use that excuse with you.”

I pulled out my phone and attached the zapper to program the bots, then ran the program code David had worked up.

“This will sting a little,” I said. I held the zapper over her wrist and pressed the button. Megan jerked back, rubbing her wrist.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s it,” I said. “Now get some sleep.” I turned off the lights and was about to close the door, but I leaned back and said.

“And Megan, I really am glad you’re okay.”

***

The next day at school I worked with Amy to design a user manual, then we made a digital version that we built into the app. You had to scroll through and read all the warnings and stuff, before initialing at the bottom.

At lunch Brad and Greg assembled the hardware. He’d already made each of us our own little phone jack to program the bots, but David insisted on sharing the tech. So he showed us the components and how to put them all together. Now Greg and him were welding the pieces together with soldering irons. Brad wore a pair of sunglasses, but Greg had a full-face welding mask on.

“Baby,” Brad mocked him.

“You’d be careful too if you were as pretty as me,” Greg said.

We’d already leaked the NHTC files on the dark web, so they couldn’t be traced back to us. We could just say we found them online. Now we were each supposed to invite three friends we knew would be cool about it.

We only gave them basic features though, it was just to confirm our own research. We only tried new mods on ourselves. We pooled resources to make the phone devices. They cost $25 in parts, but Greg said he’d cover it.

Each of us picked three people, until we had a list of fifteen names. Including us, that made a sample size of twenty. We sent each of them an anonymous email, with a link to download the app and with some ground rules: no talking about it at school; post changes and results on a private shared server; share before and after images on social media. We had them agree and sign a document first, then we hid a vial of therabots somewhere on campus and told them where to find it.

We thought it would be safer, keeping it anonymous, but without the trust factor, most people blew it off. And not everyone agreed with our terms. I overheard a girl in 3rd period talking about it.

“Yeah right, drink some mysterious liquid? Who would do that?”

A couple of our friends had noticed the changes, and they put two-and-two together, but by the weekend only three people had signed up and received a vial of therabots. It wasn’t exactly the reception we wanted, but it was a start.

“We need to go big at the dance,” Brad said on Friday. “Something more visual, more obvious. Get people talking about us. Then they’ll want in.”

I said the same thing weeks ago, but I hadn’t brought up the Halloween dance since Melissa’s note. I’d been avoiding Greg in the halls and even skipped a few lunch meetings. I’d also been going au naturale. I wanted to look as plain and unattractive as possible. Melissa wouldn’t be going after me this hard unless she thought I was really a threat. I told the others I was testing less obvious hacks and didn’t want to overdo it, but I could tell Amy thought something was up.

I don’t know what happened to Greg. He hadn’t messaged me again, and I hadn’t asked. There was weirdness between us, but I had no idea what was going on. His last message said he’d pick me up for the dance, but I was sure he’d changed his mind, now that I was back to my usual self. He probably regretted asking me in the first place.

I thought somebody was going to suggest we all go together, but nobody did. We just agreed to meet at the dance and show off our costumes. I didn’t even want to go anymore, but it was the perfect opportunity to launch SelfX. I couldn’t hide out forever, and the group would know something was up if I went AWOL.

Amy and I met after school to hit up a thrift store for accessories and outfits, then we went back to my place to work on our costumes.

“What’s going on with you?” Amy asked, after the fifth time she asked about the mods I was going to use. I kept dodging the question.

“You’ve been different lately. This was all your idea, but you’re not using SelfX like the rest of us. Is Megan okay?”

“She is actually,” I said. “At least we think she will be. Maybe I’m just not as desperate as I was before.”

“Bullshit,” Amy said. “You’ve always been reckless with tech stuff. Plus, you told me they used your college savings for Megan’s treatment. You need this as much as any of us, maybe more.”

I sighed, there was no fooling Amy. I pulled out my phone and showed her the message from Melissa.

“Oh my god. That fucking bitch. How did she even get the photos?”

“She must have stolen my phone and hacked in.”

“You’ve got to tell Greg.”

“No way. She’s not kidding around. Melissa will totally share those pictures.”

The thought of my nude pictures being passed around at school made my knees weak.

“He’s got to know what kind of monster he’s dating.”

“If he can’t see Melissa for who she is, that’s his problem. I’m not going to risk it. She’s won and she knows it.”

“We hack into her computer, her phone. We wipe them clean. C’mon, you know you’re better at that stuff than she is. Brad could help.”

I hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe,” I said. “But for now let’s just focus on launching SelfX for real. Megan might be fine for now, but there are more people out there the app could help. If my life is going to end, I’d like to at least have done it for a good cause.”

I felt better after talking with Amy. She was right, I couldn’t let Melissa blackmail me for the rest of the year. Amy was better at sewing than I was, so I let her modify the dresses we’d picked and started working on something for Megan, a pair of large fairy wings. She said she wanted to be a ballerina, but I knew we could do better.

When they were ready, I called her down to try them on.

“They’re amazing!” she said, spinning around.

“There’s a button hidden inside the left wing, at the bottom. Feel it?”

Megan clicked the button, and her eyes went wide when the wings started fluttering like they were alive, and lit up with colorful lights. She ran into the kitchen to show them to Dad, then came back to give me a long hug.

“Mom would have been proud,” Dad said.

“Want to come over here and do makeup and stuff tomorrow before the dance?”

“Actually,” Amy said, “Brad’s going to pick me up.”

“Wait, like a date? Did he ask you? Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I don’t know, it’s still kind of weird. I mean, it’s Brad.”

“Yeah he’s cool though. I mean, when you get to know him. I get it. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But maybe we can pick you up on the way and go together.”

“Um, yeah maybe,” I said. “Or I’ll get another ride and see you there. I’ll text you.”

I hadn’t told Amy about the messages from Greg yet. It was a long shot, but I couldn’t help wondering if he was actually going to pick me up tomorrow. But if him and Melissa had actually broken up, the whole school would know about it by now. There’s no way they could keep that a secret. A new message made my phone ding and I pulled it out.

Greg again. Almost like he knew I was thinking about him.

Are you pissed at me? Did I do something?

Shit. I didn’t want to reply, but I also didn’t want him sending me any more texts.

Don’t text me. I wrote back, before turning off my phone.

16

The night of the dance I had butterflies in stomach. Each of us were supposed to do one big thing that fit our costume choices. I had the most experience upstacking though, and I’d been dying to try out some advanced features Amy and I hand-coded. I wanted to go as my avatar in WOL, but I couldn’t let Dad see me. We’d tripled up on bots and gotten the shifts to work in under an hour, but I waited until Dad had taken Megan out trick-or-treating before finishing the full effects.

I made my ears longer and pointed, and then made my eyes twice as big usual. I looked like a cartoon version of myself. It was creepy, and awesome. Part of me wanted to wait and see if Greg actually did pick me up, but I was also terrified what Melissa would do if we showed up to the dance together.

Instead I went to school early and waited for the others as more students trickled in. Amy was Jessica Rabbit—complete with impossible curves and a sequined red dress. Her hair had gone full red, so I changed mine to pink and purple. We’d never get away with this in public, people would stop and stare. We looked like freaks of nature. But for a Halloween party, it was perfect.

Brad was dressed as Wolverine, with his hair slicked back and a white tank-top. The long claws sticking out between his knuckles were made of silver foam, but the shredded muscles were all him. When he flexed, his shoulders and biceps rippled with power, and he was so lean I could see the veins under his skin.

David was waiting by the front door in a suit.

“What’s your costume?” Amy asked. He was holding some kind of portable black light in each hand. When he turned them on and held them up near his face, his skin glowed green.

“It’s a fluorescent protein, from jellyfish DNA,” David said. “The Chinese did it years ago with rabbits and pigs.”

“You can glow in the dark?” Brad asked. “Wicked.”

Inside, everyone had costumes, ranging from the lazy t-shirt, to the over-the-top cosplay outfits that must have taken weeks to build, but we still drew stares. People kept wiping at David’s glowing skin, looking for paint, and marveling at Brad’s muscles. A few guys asked about his work out routine. More than one girl ran her fingers across his chest—until Amy started slapping their hands away.

The gym was transformed into an epic Halloween landscape. A thick carpet of leaves covered the floor, and smoke machines in the corner kept a rolling layer of white fog near the ground. Groves of paper-mache trees with knotted branches stretched towards the ceiling, and haphazardly strewn gravestones divided the area up into smaller sections. Hundreds of green lightsticks had been tossed everywhere, casting strange lights and shadows. The entire stage had rows of upper and bottom teeth, making it look like a giant witch’s mouth.

“This is amazing!” I said. “Did you do all this?”

“I helped,” Amy shrugged.

We explored the activities and played some games. I lost count of the times somebody grabbed my ears, squeezing and pulling and trying to figure out how they were attached. But my eyes were the star attraction. People took so many selfies with me, my cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

Brad and Amy started holding hands, which made things a little awkward for David and me, since we were together but not together. Amy wanted to take some pictures together in the photo booth, so we all squeezed in.

“Where’s Greg?” David said. “He should be here.”

“Over there with Melissa,” Amy pointed.

I looked, and saw them out on the dance floor together. Greg’s hair was bright yellow and he had on a blue tux and black pants. He was Ken to Melissa’s Barbie—she was wearing a bright pink dress. She wrapped her arms around him, and the last bit of hope died in my chest. When Melissa caught my eye and flashed me a mischievous smile, I knew it was her. She’d used Greg’s phone to send the messages. She was hoping I’d get upset and make a scene. I wondered if he was in on it.

We took the photos without him and waited for the film to develop. I was surprised to see how big my eyes had become. They looked even larger than before, but maybe they just seemed that way next to everyone else’s.

David drifted off to talk with his friends, and Amy pulled Brad out to the dance floor. I took a break to get some punch, and almost ran into Greg when I turned around.

“Hey,” he said. “You guys look amazing.”

“You too,” I said. “Nice hair.”

“I told her I bleached it,” he said. “She’ll be surprised when it goes back to normal tomorrow.”

I smiled politely, but turned away from him and crossed my arms. I didn’t want to talk about Melissa.

“Hey, are we cool?” Greg asked, stepping closer and touching my arm.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve just been, different recently. I thought maybe you were avoiding me. If I’ve done anything to upset you, I’m really sorry.”

He had so much concern on his face, it took my breath away. He really was a nice guy. It wasn’t his fault he was dating satan’s daughter. He’d probably just never seen her fangs.

“We’re cool,” I said finally.

“Great,” he smiled. “Because I love this song.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me out to the dance floor next to Brad and Amy. He danced like a goofball, and I laughed. Then he took my hand and spun me around. For a moment, everything was perfect. Then the song changed, and everyone broke into couples. Greg and I stood awkwardly for a minute, then he put his arm around me and pulled me closer.

We rocked softly to the music, as the heat grew between us.

“Your eyes,” he murmured. “They really are something.”

He smelled so good, I wanted to lean my head against his shoulder. But then I saw Melissa glaring at me and remembered why I couldn’t. I backed away suddenly, breaking out of his arms, and headed straight to the bathroom.

I went into a stall by myself and closed the door. I needed to cool down. Greg was handsome, and charming. But he was here with Melissa. He shouldn’t have been dancing with me, in front of everyone.

I heard some girls come in and ducked down in the stall.

“Did you see her eyes? What a freak. But seriously, how did she even do that? The ears could be prosthetics, but those eyeballs. Gross.”

Is that what everybody thought of me? That I was just a freak trying to get attention? I mean, I was, kind of; but not for me, for the app. I wanted people wondering and talking. That was the plan. But now I wondered what else people were saying about me behind my back.

I heard the door open again, and Amy’s voice called my name.

“Are you in here? They’re calling for you.”

“What?” I asked, coming out of the stall.

“The costume contest, you won. You’ve got to go up on stage.”

We hurried back outside in time to hear the announcer call my name one more time. A spotlight found me as I climbed the stairs, and I heard murmurs ripple through the crowd. A large screen was set up behind the screen and a camera somewhere was zooming in on my face.

In the bright lights of the stage, the camera picked up every detail. Everybody was looking closely for seams, lines, glue or tape—but of course there weren’t any. My enhancements were all organic. Most people had gotten used to my altered appearance slowly over the past few weeks, but nobody had taken a clear look. I started to sweat as everyone stared openly, marveling at my unnaturally large eyes. I saw several of them pull out cell phones and start recording.

The principal, Mr. Deckler, handed me a $100 gift certificate and a bag of candy corn as a prize. I shook his hand, but when I turned to leave the stage, gasps erupted from the crowd, followed by giggles and pointing. My eyes somehow connected with Melissa’s, who was proudly wearing a cruel smirk, and my heart plummeted like a stone. I turned around in dread, to see that the live video feed on the screen behind me had been replaced by naked pictures of me. The ones I’d taken for science. The ones Melissa stole.

Words were splashed across the photo montage with dripping red text. Tears welled up in my eyes as people started reading them out loud, then shouting the names at me. Slut. Whore. One word was picked up more than the others. Fake. It grew into a chant, and then broke into applause as I ran off the stage.

But something was wrong. My vision was blurry, and not from the tears. Everything was glowing with strange light, and my scalp felt like it was on fire. I headed towards the front exit, but then everything went white and silent. The world disappeared, all sights and sounds swallowed up by the infinite pillow, the white buffer, the void. Unfortunately my feet were still moving.

I felt a sharp pain as I tripped down the front stairs of the building and hit my knee, then my forehead, against the pavement. I lay there, stunned, feeling the light raindrops and cool air against my cheek, until my vision cleared. When it did, it was different. Everything was in hyper detail, and far too colorful. Melissa was standing above me, and some kind of green glow surrounded her body. I could see the flecks in her eyes and the mascara on her eyelashes and the threads of the fabric on her dress.

She smiled, pulling her camera out to take a picture.

“This is where you belong,” she said. “Rolling in the dirt, like a parasite. Say cheese!”

“Why do you hate me,” I groaned, pushing myself up with my palms. My head was throbbing and I could see blood on my knee. My dress and half my face was dripping with mud.

“Because you’re just so goddamn ordinary. You might have fooled everyone else with your new look, but I know you’re still a loser. You won’t steal my boyfriend by slutting it up.”

Half the school was standing behind her, including Greg. He just stood there gaping. David was the first to actually help, but I pushed him away. I didn’t want to be helped. I didn’t want to be rescued. I just wanted to be alone. I ran across the parking lot and into the woods. I heard David shout my name, but I kept going until I was swallowed up by the pines and mist and darkness.

***

It took me an hour to get home. I came in through the garage, opening the side door with the key we always leave under the mat. I didn’t want Dad to see me like this. My dress was torn and covered in dirt. My head and knee ached and I had scratches all over. I changed into an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt I kept in the garage, it was covered in oil but soft and warm.

It made me feel like myself, but who even was that anymore? I reached up and felt my ears—they were already shifting back to normal, but were still sharp and elongated. Maybe I was a freak. How could I have been stupid enough to take those pictures? I’d never really cared what people thought of me, because I knew they didn’t really know me. After Mom died, high school drama just seemed too trivial. I was happy to be invisible. But now the whole school saw me. All of them, and all of me. Maybe Melissa was right. I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. No wonder Greg didn’t like me.

I turned off all the mods, letting the therabots restore my DNA to its default setting. My whole body was itching now. I was sweating, but the cool fall air tickled my wet skin, driving a chill deep into my bones. My eyes felt like they were on fire. I’d never felt this way after de-modification. Part of me was worried, and I reached for my phone to tell David about it. I’d gotten several messages from Amy, asking to come over, but I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. I sent her a quick message so she’d stop worrying.

Need some time. Talk tomorrow.

I let my fingertips trail over my skin, trying to distract myself from the itching. I paused when I got to the row of lines on my shoulder. After Mom, cutting was the only way to distract myself from the loss and longing. The sharp pain made me feel alive. Later, it became a punishment. Whenever I was too happy, or I hadn’t thought about her all day, or I didn’t feel the sadness anymore and felt guilty about it. Cutting was a small relief; one little something I had some control over. Nobody else knew.

I reached for the blowtorch on my workshop and flicked it on, watching the blue and yellow fire shoot out of the metal barrel and hiss. Then I held it closer to my skin, so I could feel the warmth of the glowing red tip.

Just when the pain started getting intense, a message from David popped up on my phone.

You OK?

Fine.

What happened... I’m so sorry. But it’ll blow over. I’ve been teased before. It hurts but you’ll get past it.

Not like this.

I’m just saying, I know how you feel.

No, you don’t.

He knows how I feel? Being seen naked by the whole school? He had no idea how I was feeling. I knew he was just trying to help, but it made me so angry to hear sympathetic platitudes. You’ll get through it. She’s in a better place. I didn’t want David feeling sorry for me. I didn’t want pity from anyone.

I went upstairs quickly and jumped in the shower, letting the hot water smooth the tension in my neck and shoulders. I stayed there for half an hour. I was too exhausted to think, but too depressed to sleep, so I changed into pajamas and found a drama to watch on Netflix. I had my earbuds in, so I didn’t notice the tapping sound at first. After awhile, I realized it wasn’t coming from my computer. It was coming from the window. My eyes went round as I looked outside and saw a figure stranding in the rain.

Greg. Still in his blue tuxedo from the dance, his bleached hair like a beacon outside my window, dripping wet. For a second, we just stared at each other. I wanted to tell him to go away, but I was too stunned. What was he even doing here? Finally I pointed towards the back porch, then tiptoed downstairs. The house was dark, everyone was already asleep.

I grabbed a jacket and tugged it on over my pajamas, then pulled a blanket off the couch. I opened the door and wrapped it around Greg’s shivering shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I found the messages, sent from my phone. She hid them in a private folder. I had no idea she was messing with you.”

I crossed my arms and looked away. This wasn’t just about the messages.

“How about the stolen pictures? The blackmail? Then tonight—”

“I know,” he said quickly. “If it was anybody else, I might have looked past it. I know Melissa can get carried away sometimes. I know she can seem like a bitch to those who don’t know her. But after what she did to you tonight, things can’t just go on the same as before.”

“What are you saying?”

“It’s over. I ended it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?” Greg was so close, we were sitting on the bench on the back porch, looking at each other. Alone. My skin was starting to warm as my pulse raced.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just had to see you. To tell you that, whatever her plan was, to embarrass you or whatever, it didn’t work. Not to the people who count, the ones that really know you. The ones that can see how beautiful, and strong you are.”

We were just inches apart now, but the distance seemed unbearable. My eyes were drawn to his lips, and I felt pulled forward, by a magnetic force, until we were touching.

I was kissing Greg Masters. The kiss I’d been dreaming of for years. For a sweet second, everything was right in the world, and butterflies celebrated in my stomach, and fireworks went off in my head. Then I realized he wasn’t kissing me back.

I pulled away suddenly and wiped my mouth.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I’m just really confused right now.”

It’s not you, it’s me. I’d misread the situation, and now Greg was trying to let me down easy, with cliché break up lines. An hour ago, I didn’t think this night could get any worse, or that I could be any more embarrassed. I was wrong.

17

The next day I told Dad I was sick and stayed home from school. For half the day I ate ice cream and cereal while bingewatching Netflix from my bed. I’d turned my phone off, but curiosity finally got the best of me. There were a bunch of messages from Amy. There were also dozens from girls at my school calling me a desperate loser, and much worse.

On Facebook, someone had set up a fake account with my picture under the name Basic Bree. It already had hundreds of friends; I recognized the names of most of the senior class. Inside was a gallery of all my nude selfies, as well as a few videos from last night. I watched them out of morbid curiosity, trying not to read the hateful comments or the descriptions of what guys wanted to do to me. Side by side, the differences were startling. I brought up a picture of me before, and a picture of me at the dance, and put them close together on my screen. It looked like I’d been photoshopped; it didn’t look real. But it had been real.

Melissa and everyone on the Facebook page was calling me a fraud or a cheat. She also accused me of sending the nudes to Greg’s phone, trying to steal her boyfriend. But nobody could figure out how I’d changed my appearance so rapidly, and it was driving them crazy. There were a lot of speculative theories. Most people thought I’d been getting cosmetic surgery, but they’d be surprised when I came back to school looking normal. My features were almost my own again. Almost, I realized suddenly, jumping up and grabbing a mirror.

I turned the app off before going to bed last night. Everything except the basic health and healing function, and the bots did their thing and reset to my default. Except... it didn’t completely work.

My eyes weren’t as large as they’d gotten last night, but they were still slightly rounder. My eyelashes were dark and full. And my hair was still pinkish purple. Most of it had faded to a dark purple, but there was a bright streak of pink on one side. When I looked carefully, there was a tiny dent on the top of my ears where they’d been folded together.

Also, I realized, the cuts and bruises I’d received last night were practically healed. That shouldn’t have been possible. David said, if we stack more mods while we already have some running, we might get stuck with the effects—but I hadn’t done that. Had I done too much at once, or stretched nature too far?

Something had definitely gone wrong. I still looked human, and mostly like myself, just slightly more exotic. I don’t think even Dad would notice the changes. But I could tell. I wasn’t entirely me anymore. I was changed, and I could be stuck this way.

Just then, someone uploaded a new video with the title, seriously tho, WTF? The video showed me on stage with the nude pics behind me. I started to cry and run off stage, pushing through the crowd. Then another video started, it was spliced on. It was MUCH closer, and I realized it was the one Melissa took when she was standing over me. But in this video, my eyes were bright pink. They were practically glowing in the darkness, but it wasn’t the only difference—my eyes were much smaller, as if the therabots had already reset the size, and my hair was at least an inch longer. The video ended by comparing the nude pics, pics from the dance, and stills from Melissa’s video. There were arrows pointing out the differences and the time stamps.

The poster commented, how does someone change this much, this quickly? It was a good question. I didn’t know what had happened. I needed to find David and get him to check my blood. I felt fine, good actually, physically. Emotionally I was a pincushion. But I’d never cared what Melissa thought, why start now?

I wasn’t ready to face Greg. I didn’t know if he liked me or if he just felt sorry for me. I shouldn’t have kissed him, even if he had broken up with Melissa, it was too soon. But it was just a moment of temporary insanity. I could blame it on the bots.

Maybe it was because I was safe at home, but I decided I was done letting people talk about me behind my back. At least we’d gotten their attention. The whole school was together right now, looking at Basic Bree’s profile. I couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. I took a selfie, then put it next to a picture from the dance with my fully modded self, and one of the portraits I’d taken weeks ago before I started modding. I put all three together and shared them on Facebook and social media, with the dates in red, and a few hashtags. #selfie #nofilter #nomakeup #selfX.

Then I put down the phone again. I’d just walked into the kitchen and was rummaging through the cupboards for food when the door rang. Amy was standing on the other side, holding a bag of burgers, fries and chocolate milkshakes.

“My savior,” I said, grabbing the bag. “Wait, don’t you have school?”

“We’re on lunch. The guys didn’t want to meet without you, and they thought I should come check on you. David especially, he seems really worried. He wanted to come himself but I said you probably didn’t want visitors.”

I wondered if Greg had told her about his late night visit, but from her expression I didn’t think so. My cheeks heated up thinking about the kiss.

“Also, we saw your post. That was smart. Brad made a video earlier, he’s been sharing it and building links and traffic.”

“He made that?” I asked.

“Yeah, well... I mean obviously the naked pictures were never part of the plan, and everyone feels terrible, but at least the app works, right? I mean, you said you wanted to launch SelfX at the dance, and we kind of did that. People are talking. This doesn’t have to change anything.”

“You think I’m wavering, because of last night? They sent you to check on me, because they think I’ll back out, or quit the project?”

“Screw the project,” Amy said, pushing into the house. “I’m just here for you.”

We watched mid-day soap operas for awhile. Amy dipped her fries into her milkshake, like usual, and put her feet up on the couch. It was nice not to be alone. She even skipped the next period so we could hang out longer.

When I looked in the Facebook group again, I saw Brad had shared the video to Reddit and YouTube, using the hashtags from my post. It already had over 10,000 views. I put the phone on the table to grab more ketchup, and I heard it buzz as I got a new message.

“Woah,” Amy said a second later. “Have you seen this?” Her eyes were wide as she showed me the screen. My heart raced as I read the subject.

Hacking Therabots?

Someone knew what we were doing. Then I saw the sender’s name.

Todd Brieker.

The founder of Arcana. The inventor of the aPhone, of Illius.

“It’s got to be a joke,” I said.

“Open it!” Amy squealed, gripping my arm. I clicked to open the email, with Amy reading over my shoulder.

Very interested in your project, if it’s what I think it is. Would love to chat. Log into Illius and I’ll tell you more.

My heart raced as I logged into my Illius account, and saw an alert pop up. A friend request from Todd Brieker. How could he possibly know what I was doing? And what did he want from me? I clicked accept, and a new message popped up immediately.

I think it’s best we talk about this face to face... I’ve set up a private VR conference room for us. Just let me know when a good time would be.

“Do it!” Amy said, her eyes wide.

“What about the others?” I asked. “No more secrets, remember?”

I have partners, I wrote back.

Bring them, Todd said. Then he shared a link to a virtual conference room. I pulled up our group chat in Facebook and sent a message.

Todd Brieker wants a face-to-face. Don’t know what he knows yet. Anyone want to join?

After the initial surprise and panicked exclamations, David wrote,

If he wanted to go to the police, he’d have done it already. He wants something else. I’ll come.

I’m in too, Brad wrote. Don’t want you two brokering deals behind my back.

We couldn’t reach Greg, but Amy said we couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Whatever this was, it could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. I forwarded the link to Brad and David, then held my breath and clicked the link.

***

I was standing in a meadow—or more like an English garden, with sculpted bushes. It was thick with rhododendron flowers that let off a sweet floral scent. Behind the plants I saw rows of sleek desks on all sides. I looked up and saw what appeared to the open sky, with blue, fluffy white clouds. I was sure it had been overcast at home.

David and Greg appeared next to me a minute later. We were wearing our basic mods, based on our face scans, and looked more or less like ourselves. I noticed we were all dressed alike, in simple white garments.

“What the Hell,” Brad said, turning his arms and looking at his clothes.

“Sorry about that,” a voice said. Through the bushes we saw a man sitting on a bench, writing something on a tablet. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater. “We strip all the code from visitors to protect ourself from hacks. Company policy.”

“You still have some,” David raised an eyebrow. Todd was wearing tan pants, a blue collared shirt and a black sweater. He had glasses with dark, square frames and perfectly combed gray hair. He was bigger than I would have guessed though, at least six feet. I couldn’t believe I was in the same room with him, the same virtual room anyway.

“Home court advantage,” Todd shrugged.

I let my eyes drift around the space, unveiling more and more detail. The meadow was actually a square courtyard in the center of massive glass building, with windows so thin it looked like you could walk straight through them. Beyond the steel desks was a view of a city.

“Is that Shanghai?” I asked. Todd smirked and crossed his fingers. The view blurred and suddenly we were deep in the rainforest. I saw a glimpse of an ancient temple through the leaves, and heard monkey calls. Then it changed again. Stars, space, planets. Universes, galaxies. I grabbed David as the floor vanished beneath me, and we were left standing in pure open space. The next one showed a castle on a hill, with a waterfall, flowing through the building, and falling away below. Todd left this one on and turned to face us.

“We like our guests to feel at home,” Todd said.

“Intimidated, you mean,” Brad grumbled.

Like nearly everyone else, the events of my life had been punctuated by Arcana’s annual product release announcements about the latest aPhone. And it was more than just a metronome: jail breaking Arcana’s operating system so you could run unapproved apps was a rite of passage for most kids my age. I’d done it in 3rd grade. And now here he was, the man, the myth, the legend—in the virtual flesh. Not on the cover of Forbes or Wired magazine. Right in front of me.

“Why are we here,” I blurted out suddenly. My cheeks warmed in embarrassment, but I was too nervous to be tactful.

“Straight the point then,” Todd said. He jumped up and gestured us to follow him. I noticed the walls shifted as we walked—the entire office space was doorless but the depth was an illusion; I thought at first the sliding glass panels were transparent, then I realized some were mirrors when I caught my own reflection. It made it impossible to guess the true size. I had to keep reminding myself that none of this was real; that it was all VR. But the depth and quality was better than anything I’d experienced before. Todd stepped into something that seemed like the cockpit of a space station, with huge curved panels and a polished floor of white marble. In the corner I spotted a white leather couch and even a polar bear rug on the floor, snarling with extended fangs. Orbs of light floated around the room, reminding me of fairy lanterns.

Two walls were lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. The others had transparent panels looking back towards the office. Employees were busy working, but other than the hum of fingers typing, we didn’t hear anyone else.

“They can’t hear or see us,” Todd said. “The program keeps track of their current position and updates with real time locations. I like to keep an eye on my people.”

“You’re spying on them,” David said.

“I assure you they’ve signed the necessary waivers and NDA agreements. They’re very loyal. Until they aren’t.”

Todd’s avatar tapped on the panel, then made a hand swiping motion towards the glass and the view changed again. It was the code we’d used for the app.

“How did you get that?” Brad asked, stepping forward quickly.

“You’re running an illegal app on a hacked phone. When you patched the OS, you voided the warranty... and also violated the user agreement.”

“Meaning?” I asked.

“They hacked our phones,” David said.

“Not yours,” Todd said, with a tight smile. “Mine. I made them. You’re borrowing them. As long as they’re used as directed, the government prevents too much surveillance. We can quietly collect data, in order to serve you better. But since you modified our base code, the privacy laws don’t apply to you.”

“That’s illegal!” Brad shouted.

“Possibly,” Todd smiled. “You can take it up with my lawyers. They rarely lose. But moving on. This code here—” he said, pointing to a stretch of code, and circling it with red ink, “is primitive, but still quite impressive, for your age anyway.”

Brad frowned, and I saw David stiffen.

“But this code,” Todd said, “which you’ve patched into your app. That looks like a proprietary application of the government’s new therabot program. I don’t know how you got it, but it couldn’t have been legal. By the way, want to know how I found out about you? I have a team monitoring social media for tech developments. They read through the comments, and found your name. I pinged your phone to find your location, then ran a search on your town—the first thing that popped up in my newsfeed was the recent break-in. That’s when I knew what you were doing. I hacked your phones to find the app, and now we’re here.”

“So why don’t you call the police?” Brad asked.

“I could,” Todd said. “After all, you’ve broken enough laws. Tampering with government policy, copyright infringement. As soon as you make the app public, if that’s what you’re planning, you’ll get shut down, and probably arrested. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

I shared a look with David, and he nodded.

“We’re listening,” Brad said, crossing his arms.

“I’ll tell you a secret, we’ve been working on similar projects for several years. In fact, I wrote some of this code for the government. They needed my help to fix it, after some rather shocking test results, but then turned around and put a federal ban on consumer applications outside the therabot program. I’ve spent years developing a workaround. We’re not ready to go to market, but we don’t want our launch compromised by negative public opinion based on a failed garage experiment by a bunch of kids. This is dangerous stuff, a lot could go wrong. The press would eat you alive.”

“Plus, I’d hate to see bright young minds go to waste, or be punished for outside the box thinking. So we’d like to buy you out now. My developers will fine-tune your process, and release our own version of the therabots to the public, under the name Asklep.”

“Ass clap?” Brad repeated, his lips pulling up in a smile.

“Short for Asklepios,” Todd said drily, “the Greek god of healing. Not only would my resources allow you to develop your process safely, you’d also have the full protection of my legal department. And you’d be doing a great service, helping more people, like your sister,” he nodded to me, “or your brother,” his eyes drifted to David. He’d done his research.

“In exchange for what?” Brad said.

“Not going to jail, for starters. And an unpaid internship directly under me, for one year.” David’s eyes widened and even Brad looked impressed. A job straight out of high school, working at Arcana on cutting edge tech, under Todd Brieker? We’d be set for life. It was the offer of a lifetime.

“No,” David said quietly. Brad grabbed his arm, but David held up a palm and continued. “You wouldn’t have wasted your time with us unless you knew we had something big. We have something you need, something you haven’t figured out yet. If we trademark the missing piece, the piece that we developed, which is completely separate from the therabot program, it would stop you from developing any similar technology. It could be worth billions.”

Todd’s face was nearly impassive, but I saw his cheeks tighten as he assessed David and narrowed his eyes. I wondered if David was bluffing. I knew we had something, but billions?

“We want profit share,” David said.

Todd frowned. “That’s not how this works, I’m afraid.”

“Then we’re done here.”

“Wait,” Todd said, struggling to turn his lips up into a pained smile.

“What’s it going to take?”

“A million dollars,” I blurted. I saw David stiffen. Todd smiled, a little too broadly, and I knew I’d underbid.

“Each,” I added quickly.

“Done.” Todd said.

“And we have two more partners. Silent partners.”

“I’ll have my lawyers draw up the paperwork,” Todd said. “I’ll just need a bank account to transfer the five million. You can divide it up however you like.”

“Can we think about it?” Brad asked.

“We need to tell the other two and make sure it’s okay,” I said.

Todd’s frown deepened. I got the feeling he wasn’t used to getting no for an answer.

“You have twenty-four hours. After that, I’ll alert the authorities and let them deal with you.”

18

“You turned down a million dollars?” Greg said the next morning. I already told Amy all about the meeting as soon as I unplugged from VR, but we’d agreed to wait and discuss the details once we were all together at school in first period. It was my first day back since the dance, and I could feel other kids staring at me, but I tried to tune it out. The dance had been brutal, and I’d never live down the pictures of me, but that seemed like a lifetime ago now, and the embarrassment had faded quickly. Plus, I was far too excited about SelfX. Thanks to Todd, we now knew how valuable it was. No matter what happened, I’d have enough money for Megan, for college, for everything.

“He would have paid more,” David said, “I’m sure about it.”

“Yeah, but do you really want Todd Brieker as an enemy?” Greg said. “He hacked our phones. He could be listening to us right now.”

“That’s probably overstating it,” Brad said. But I saw both him and David reach into their pockets to turn off their phones.

“I don’t get it,” Amy said. “The science fair was supposed to be a way to get a job or an internship. It worked, you got exactly what you’ve always wanted, right? Why turn it down?”

“It’s the principle.” David said. “An internship is basically indentured servitude. He’d have a year to squeeze every bit of value out of us and use it to enrich Arcana, then cast us aside.”

“You don’t know that.”

“A million in the hand is better than a lifetime position at Arcana,” I said. “You could invest it. Build anything you want.”

“At Arcana we’d have unlimited resources,” Greg said.

“Plus, don’t forget about the other thing—what he said about using the government files. I mean, if we release it, we could get in serious legal trouble. We could get arrested, or go to jail.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Greg said.

“Me either,” said Amy, a little too quickly.

“If you aren’t willing to share responsibility,” Brad narrowed his eyes at them, “you shouldn’t get a vote.”

“Just because I didn’t break into a medical lab and steal government property and documents, doesn’t mean I haven’t contributed to this project,” Amy huffed.

“What is there to even talk about?” Greg asked. “It’s either jail or a million bucks.”

“Not necessarily,” Brad said, pulling up his tablet and folding the cover into a stand. “We already leaked the stolen files to the darkweb. It’s out there now. They can’t prove we stole them.”

“And what, the missing box of therabots in our town was just a weird coincidence?”

“I’m just saying, they don’t have hard evidence. Which means, in a trial of peers, the verdict could be influenced by public opinion. Check this out. I put up this video up on YouTube yesterday.”

“You put that up?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“It was already out there,” Brad said. “People were already putting it together, I just connected the dots and raised the question. On Reddit it’s already gotten 230,000 views. On YouTube it’s half a million. People are sharing this. Talking about us. The hashtag is blowing up. I’ve seen some blogs and websites pick it up. By tomorrow it could be on the front page of the internet.”

“So what are you saying?” Amy asked.

“We release it ourselves, claim credit. Use our 15 minutes of fame to launch the app. Make as much money as possible. Get as famous as possible.”

“I don’t want to be famous in jail.” Amy said.

“The money would be useful for good lawyers at least.” Greg said. “It’s all about the story. If we’re seen as heroes, the government won’t want to move against us.”

“David?” I asked.

“He barely raised an eyebrow when you asked for a million.” David said. “Did you see him smile? He thought it was a joke. That we were just stupid kids. I bet he’d have paid a hundred million to get us on board and keep us quiet. For some reason, he wants this contained. Don’t you see, he wants this to be an Arcana product. We have the only working model, and they need it. They’re the biggest, best technology firm in the world and they got beat by a handful of high school kids making a science fair project. Can you imagine if something like this came out for real? It will change everything. It’ll change civilization. We’ve patched the human species. Think about the kind of legacy we’ll be leaving. If Arcana owns it, they’ll own everything. We’ll be paying them for literally every breath we take. They would be in our bodies. They could order us antibiotics when we have an infection and recommend a good movie to help us relax when we’re feeling stressed. They could create diseases and sell the cure. Or we launch it ourselves. A misfit group of high school seniors.”

“But we’ll get in trouble.” Amy said. “Todd will turn us in.”

“I don’t think so,” David said. “He only knows what we’re doing because he hacked our phones. Even though it might technically be legal, I doubt they want people talking about how Arcana can see everything on your phone and is silently monitoring us. And if we did get in trouble, it would ruin their plans to develop something similar; it would be out there. Too public. Too much bad press. He doesn’t want to ruin the project, he just wants to make sure he’s got ownership. Finally, Brad’s right. I don’t think they can prove we stole the therabots; or even the code. If it’s on the darkweb, we can say we found it there, just like everyone else. After that... it would be legally tricky, but we’d have options. It would mostly depend on public support. Greater risk, but possibly much greater reward. But more than that, it’s the right thing to do. Not for the money. But because otherwise, Arcana wins everything. It would be game over for the human race.”

There was a pause when David stopped talking. It was probably the longest I’d ever heard him speak, but his words had a powerful effect. We looked at each other for a few seconds, but nobody disagreed.

“So we launch it,” Brad said eagerly.

Greg nodded first, then Amy. It seemed risky to go it alone instead of accept Todd’s buyout. If Megan’s Retinoblastoma hadn’t been in remission, I probably would have taken the money. But David was right. Todd owned the present. We couldn’t give away our future.

Just then the intercom crackled and I heard my name.

Brianna Hammond to the principle’s office.

“We have all day to decide,” I said. “Think it over and meet at lunch.”

I’d been dreading the crowded halls, so I was glad to be alone—but still curious. I was no stranger to the principal’s office, but I wasn’t sure exactly what I was in trouble for this time.

There was a woman in the office I hadn’t seen before, with dark hair and very white teeth. She smiled at me and the principle introduced her.

“This is Vanessa Briggs, our new guidance counselor.” I’d never seen her before, and I wondered why she was starting so late in the school year, but I kept my mouth shut and waited for Mr. Deckler to get to the point.

“This morning she informed me about what happened at the dance.” the principal said, staring me down. “Since it took place on school property, and we have a strict anti-bullying policy, we wanted to know if you will want to press charges.”

“What?” I asked.

“Against the school, for negligence,” the new counselor said without blinking, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Mr. Deckler’s face was dour, and I knew this wasn’t his idea. He’d never liked me, not since Freshman year when he saw me skating through the hall between periods and playing on my phone at the same time. I might have run into him.

Miss Briggs saw me looking at Mr. Deckler dubiously and jumped up.

“Why don’t we discuss this in my office,” she said, opening the door and gesturing down the hall. “Privately.”

Vanessa’s office was so clean it looked almost sterile, apart from a framed print of sunflowers in a blue vase and a high-end laptop that looked brand new. I’d only met the last counselor a few times, a pudgy woman with gray hair and a collection of feline figurines. I wasn’t sure yet whether I approved of her replacement, but at least she didn’t smell like old milk.

“Normally, a school can’t offer students protection off-campus,” Vanessa said when we were alone. “But we recognize that online bullying, especially on social media, can feel just as bad as the real thing.”

She swiveled the monitor of her computer, showing the Facebook page for Basic Bree. It had grown to over 20,000 likes, including adult men and even a few international profiles. Gross. The comments were so obscene my ears turned red.

“I just wanted to let you know, I’m here if you want to talk. It’s not unusual for young girls to sext nude pics with guys. Whoever he is, don’t let him pressure you into doing it again. When these photos get out, it can be devastating.” She reached over and squeezed my hand.

My throat dried up and I felt my palms sweat. That’s why I was here, because this new counselor thought I was sexting? I was too stunned to speak.

“If you can tell me who did this, who hacked the cam feed at the dance, we can take action. The student will be disciplined. Severely.”

“There wasn’t a guy,” I said. “I took those pictures.” For science, I wanted to say, but I bit my lip. I couldn’t mention the science project.

“For myself,” I finished lamely. “They were never supposed to get out. I didn’t send them to anyone. Someone stole my phone. But I don’t know who it was,” I added quickly. “It was missing, then I found it again. It could have been anyone.”

I don’t know why I was protecting Melissa. Mainly, I didn’t want this to become a big thing. I didn’t want to press charges. I didn’t want Melissa playing the victim and everyone calling me a tattletale. I had enough going on already.

“If that’s all, I’d like to get back to class now,” I said, standing up.

I could tell the new counselor didn’t believe me, but so what? I didn’t even know her. Why would I open up to a total stranger. Besides, after meeting Todd Brieker yesterday, the nude pictures didn’t seem like the most important thing in the world. It was just high school, after all. It would blow over and everyone would forget about it.

The bell had already rung when I left the office, and I nearly got clipped by a pair of racing Freshmen. They tripped over themselves when they saw me, and one of them went sprawling. I hurried in the other direction. My skin prickled, and I realized I was angry. The new counselor was just like everyone else: she thought it was all my fault somehow. Assuming I slept around and sent naked pictures to boys. But I’d never been that kind of girl. I used to be invisible, but now I had a target on my back.

A few guys gave me hoots and whistles as I passed, and I wrapped my arms tightly around me. The girls whispered behind my back, but I knew what they were saying. I was wearing dark jeans, a black Tshirt and a leather jacket. Even though I hadn’t put on makeup, I was noticeably more attractive than usual, and the bright pink tuft of hair stood out. Combined with the nude photos, promiscuity was assumed, even though I had practically zero experience. Greg had been my first real kiss, and it didn’t count, because I’d kissed him. I wasn’t sure if we needed to talk about it, but I didn’t want to. I could handle being rejected. I didn’t want it explained to me. I also needed to talk with David; I hadn’t told the others about the permanent changes, but we needed to figure out what happened to me before we launched the app for real.

I went outside for a breath of fresh air. I’d just made it down the steps when I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around. I didn’t see Melissa’s fist until it slammed into my jaw.

***

Time seemed to slow down as my pulse spiked, pumping adrenaline through my body. I felt the air on my arms raise as my fight-or-flight response kicked in. But I was tired of running. I might be a target, but that didn’t mean I had to abide by the abuse.

I ducked the second punch easily, then grabbed Melissa’s wrist and pushed her backwards until she slammed against the wall. I twisted her hand behind her until she cried out in pain.

I loosened my grip when my vision brightened. I thought it was the white light again, but it was something else. I could see everything. My eyes were like micro and macro lenses all at once. I could take in the entire scene around me, but when I focused on one thing, I saw it in perfect detail. I saw all the windows of the school office and knew which teachers were at their desk and what they were doing. I saw thirty students in the near vicinity, and could tell what brand of sneakers they were wearing and how long ago they’d bought them. Most of them were turning towards us, pulling out cellphones. I didn’t want to get called into the office. Not again. Not now.

Melissa squirmed and I dropped her arm.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“You kissed Greg. But it meant nothing, he came to my house right after he was with you, and told me everything. I know how to satisfy him.”

I don’t know how I knew she was lying. Maybe the way she lifted her eyebrow, or the desperation and loneliness in her eyes. A swirling green cloud of toxic energy surrounded her like a halo. I looked around and realized nearly everyone had an aura of some kind. My vision blurred like a watercolor.

“Finish her!” One of Melissa’s friends shouted from the steps. There was a crowd now, egging Melissa on. They wanted to see me hurt, defeated. I saw Melissa’s upper lip twitch and knew she was going to throw another punch before she’d even started moving. I stepped back and slapped her arm away, but her momentum carried her forward and she wrapped her arms around my waist, tackling me to the ground. She grabbed my hair and jerked my head back into the concrete. My eyes bulged with rage as pain coursed through my head.

“Enough!” I shouted. My eyes felt like they were on fire. Melissa froze, with one fist raised, ready to strike. But it never came down. Her expression had gone slack, and her mouth hung open. Her pupils were wide, gazing directly at me like a deer in headlights.

“Get off me,” I said.

Melissa stood up, still maintaining eye contact, but said nothing. I got up and brushed myself off. We stood there for a moment, staring at each other. I wondered if this was some kind of weird mind game. I was relieved when David came up to us, standing next to me.

“Everything okay here?” he asked.

“She attacked me,” I said.

David waved his hand slowly in front of Melissa’s face, but got no reaction. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me away.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. I shut them and he led me around the corner of the building, and into a side entrance through the music room. We looped around and hid in the science lab.

“We can’t sell the app,” I said quickly, when we were alone. “Something’s wrong. I’m broken.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.” I told David about the strange side effects at the dance, and the permanent changes to my appearance. When I started describing what I’d seen, he perked up and asked questions.

“What color were Melissa’s shoes? How many cars were in the parking lot?” I scoffed at first, but then I realized I actually knew the answers. I could see it all in my mind, in perfect detail.

David wanted to run some tests before saying anything, so he took my blood and ran it through his chemistry set, then examined several glass slides through the microscope.

His eyes widened and he looked at me with surprise.

“This is... unexpected.”

“What is it? What’s wrong with me?”

“The nanobots are programmed to protect you, your health, your life. I think, since you were using mods on your face, mostly your eyes, some of the nanobots have become permanently fused with your ocular cells. It’s affected your vision. How do you feel right now?” He asked.

“Fine,” I said. “Like myself again.”

He nodded. “When I found you, your eyes were ultraviolet, and wide. Your pupils looked like black holes. I think something happened to you at the dance. The stress, the embarrassment—it made your bots go into battle mode somehow and added an extra level of protection. But only when you get excited. It increases your spatial awareness and field perception. Enhanced vision. Maybe even photographic memory.”

“But what about Melissa?”

“I think you accidentally hypnotized her.”

“What?” I asked.

“You said you saw her emotions, and knew what she was going to do. I think, with your eyes open like that, making direct eye contact with her, you somehow put her into a trance state.”

“But that’s impossible,” I said.

“Actually,” David said, “it’s within the realm of possibility. Cobras hypnotize their prey.”

“I’m not a cobra, and I’m certainly not a predator.”

“Humans can do it too. Hypnosis is a state of highly focused concentration, associated with relaxation and suggestibility. And some people are capable of total recall, though it’s rare. Somehow the bots plugged into dormant abilities in your DNA and upgraded your default settings, in order to protect you.”

“So I’m stuck with this?” I asked, frowning. I didn’t like the idea of rogue robots in my body, rewriting my code.

David looked at me in confusion.

“I know it may seem scary right now, but you basically just became super human. The other stuff,” he said, waving at my face, “it was all cosmetic. Superficial. This is an enhanced ability. It’s unexpected, but not unwelcome.”

“I don’t want to be a lab rat,” I said, crossing my arms. “And I’m not a superhero. This is dangerous. We can’t release the app if it can cause irreparable, unplanned damage to people. We have to tell someone.”

“Let’s speak to the group first,” David said. “They should be the first to know. Let’s find out if anyone else is experiencing symptoms. In the meantime, we need to stick with plan. What if this is what Todd is after? Maybe he wanted to buy us out before we realized what we really had. He was right about one thing though, we need funding. I didn’t want to tell the others, but we’re basically running advanced tech through a patched network... it’s volatile. One way or another, this thing could go south quickly. It’s important we start to get the word out, to control the narrative.”

After school, I just wanted to get home. I’d started riding my mom’s bike to school, since I gave my skateboard to Megan. It meant I had to actually pay attention to my surroundings, but it helped take my mind off other things. It was a simple distraction, and afforded me a few minutes of peace. I was almost home when the phone rang.

“Hello, is this Brianna Hartmond?”

“That’s me,” I said, pulling over the curb. I got off my bike and pushed it forward while holding the phone up to my ear.

“This is Susan Miles from GWN news. We’d like to run a piece on the viral video of your Halloween costume, it was quite a stunt. We’d love to know how you did it and feature you in a local story special.”

I bit my lip. This is what we wanted to happen. Get on TV. Get seen. Get legitimacy. We planned to check in later, but everyone had basically been on board this morning. I still wasn’t sure what was happening to me, but I trusted David, and something told me I’d be no safer giving up control to Todd Brieker.

“I’ll do it,” I said. I smiled, putting the phone away after I made the appointment. I could announce the app during the interview. We’d just have to get it uploaded to the marketplace in time. I texted David about the interview, then unlocked the door with one hand as I pulled up Todd’s original message.

Thanks for the offer, I typed. But we’ve decided to go in another direction.

I felt a thrill down my spine, and wondered how many other people would have turned down an opportunity like this. I set my bag down on the counter and pulled a tray of leftover lasagna from the fridge. I’d just put a piece in the microwave when I heard a scream.

I ran upstairs and threw open Megan’s door. For a second, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. I thought Megan was playing a prank, or she’d squirted ketchup on her face. But it was so much worse. Her eyeballs had melted, leaving craters so deep I could see the eye sockets of her skull. Blood ran down her cheeks, like a fountain.

19

I rode to the hospital in the ambulance, holding Megan’s hand. The EMT’s had wrapped a white bandage around her head like a blindfold, then sedated her. I kept putting my cheek against her lips to make sure she was breathing, until they pointed out the monitor showing her pulse. Streaks of sticky red blood stained her pale cheeks. I called Dad and told him to meet us at the hospital.

At the emergency room I told them about Megan’s therabot treatment, and her eye cancer. I tried to fill in the forms while they rushed Megan upstairs, and gave them Dr. Jenkins’s number.

Dad arrived first. We sat awkwardly in the waiting room. At first I tried to read a book, then watch a movie with my earbuds. But the dread was too great. It darkened the room and scratched at me with long black fingers, poking holes in my chest. I hadn’t realized how much better I was getting, since Mom died; how bad it had been. But now I felt it, shutting me down again. If I lost Megan too, there’d be nothing but emptiness.

Finally, Dr. Jenkins came out and waved us into a waiting room.

“How is she?” my Dad asked quickly. “Can we see her?”

“She’s stable,” he said, raising his palms, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. I wondered if it was supposed to be reassuring. He raised the blinds of a large window and we could see Megan in the next room, hooked into an IV. The thin hospital gown and adult-sized bed made her look fragile and small. Her eyes had been rewrapped with sterile bandages, but she still had smudges of blood on her cheeks.

“Luckily the therabots seemed to already be working on repairing the damage. They kept her systems functioning as we operated and have already started some kind of accelerated healing – honestly I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“But what happened?” Dad asked. “You said the therabots were working, that the cancer was nearly gone. What went wrong?”

“That’s the strange thing,” Dr. Jenkins said. “The therabots I put in her system should have been flushed out a week ago, she shouldn’t even have any. And what they’ve done exactly, on a cellular level, it certainly wasn’t anything they’ve been programmed to do. Unfortunately, the damage to her optic nerves is extensive. I’m afraid to say she may never regain her vision fully.”

“You’re telling me rogue therabots blinded my daughter,” my Dad struggled to choke out the words, “and you don’t know why?” He said them quietly, but there was a rage in his voice I’d never heard before.

“There will be a full investigation,” Dr. Jenkins said. “I’m sure if the therabots are responsible you’ll be offered a generous settlement.”

“I don’t want your money!” Dad shouted, shoving Dr. Jenkins so hard he stumbled over one of the leather chairs, disturbing a stack of magazines and a potted cactus.

“It was me,” I said quietly, putting my hand against the window separating us from Megan’s room. It slipped out, but I didn’t regret it. Dad was scaring me. I’d never seen him lose it like that, and I couldn’t keep this a secret. Not when Megs was on the table, with an IV in her arm, in a hospital gown. I couldn’t lose her, too.

My Dad looked at me like I’d grown a second head. Like I was a stranger. Dr. Jenkins’s eyebrows lifted, but he gave me a condescending smile, like he didn’t believe I’d be capable of something like that.

“I rewrote the base program to keep the therabots in her body longer, and added a program to edit the RB1 gene that causes eye cancer.”

“But that’s... impossible,” Dr. Jenkins said, his smile fading.

“For you, maybe,” I said.

“You did this,” Dad repeated slowly.

“I was trying to save her,” I said, my eyes tearing up.

“She was saved. She was in remission, healed. You could have killed her.”

“I was trying to help,” I said.

“Well you failed,” dad said. “You’re always meddling, trying to fix things. This time you went too far, and ruined your sister.”

“Somebody had to do something,” I said. It was a mean thing to say. I knew my dad felt terrible about not being able to afford treatment. It didn’t seem to matter anymore.

The look of pain on my father’s face took my breath away.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “We were out of cash. What if the cancer had come back? What if there were complications? I did what I thought was right.”

“Get out,” Dad said. He was turning red and shaking with anger. I wanted him to scream at me, or something, but it was like he couldn’t bear to look at me for another second. Like I disgusted him.

“Stop fighting,” Megan said meekly, sitting up on her table, with two big patches of gauze and tape over both eyes. We could barely hear her through the glass.

“It’s not Bree’s fault. It was my idea. I asked her to do it.”

I yanked on the door handle and rushed in the room, wrapping my arms around her.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I said, sobbing now onto her shoulder.

She patted my head.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I said.

“You never do,” Dad turned his back on me and stood by Megan’s bedside.

Dr. Jenkins looked like he was thinking about calling security. He was probably putting the puzzle together, his missing keys, the stolen case of therabots. Suddenly the room felt too crowded and my skin was itching.

I stormed down the hall, not sure where I was going. I just had to get away from my father’s disappointing gaze. I already knew it was my fault. I already felt terrible for what happened to Megan, but having him know it also, it was too much. The hospital felt like it was out of air, I felt hot and muggy, like I couldn’t breathe.

I went outside and took off my sweater, fanning myself and gulping down deep breaths of air. Once I’d calmed down, I realized I didn’t have a ride home. I wasn’t sure how long Dad was going to stay. I couldn’t be in the same room with him, but I didn’t want to be alone in the house either.

I found a half-smoked cigarette in the pavement of the parking lot and sat against the wall around the side of the building. I didn’t smoke but this seemed like a good time to start. Luckily I always carried a lighter. I pulled the smoke deep into my lungs before coughing it back up, choking on the toxins and chemicals and feeling the burn in my chest.

I pulled up Facebook to kill time, and saw over a hundred red notification messages. Someone had posted yesterday’s fight with Melissa; or at least the part where she’d sucker punched me.

I scrolled through the comments.

Bitch. Worthless sack of shit.

She totally deserved it. Whore.

I hope she sees this and kills herself.

I hope she’s dead.

There were hundreds more. I read them all, wondering about the level of rage I’d unleashed. I’d always been fairly invisible. The most interesting thing about me at school had been my dead mother, which generated sympathy or avoidance.

My jaw and eye were bruised from Melissa’s fist, and I had a bump on my skull from where Melissa pushed me into the concrete, but everyone seemed to feel that she was justified, since I’d kissed her boyfriend. Me, meanwhile, I was a freak.

And they weren’t wrong to be afraid. Had I really hypnotized Melissa? I couldn’t imagine how that felt; to have no control. Forced to obey some rando at school. It must have been terrifying. I remember the way my father had looked at me inside the hospital; like I was a monster. Like I was dangerous.

Maybe I was like a broken toy, or a computer infected with malware that I couldn’t help but spread to every device I came in content with. I couldn’t go back in the hospital, so I started walking home, even though it would take at least an hour. I was halfway there before I heard a car pull up next to me. David opened the door and the light popped on.

“Need a lift?”

“How did you even find me?” I asked.

“I’ve been texting. When you didn’t respond I thought something was wrong. I stopped by your house, your neighbor told me about the ambulance. Saw your dad at the hospital and heard what happened to Megan.”

I nodded and stepped inside. My legs were already tired from walking. We drove home in silence. David parked the car outside my house but I didn’t get out. I didn’t even know I was crying until David lifted a tear off my cheek with his fingertip. I thought he was going to put his arms around me, but instead he reached into his pocket for a tiny sample kit, and used an eyedropper to scoop up the liquid and put it into a vial.

“Is that all you care about?” I said, wiping my eyes. “Your experiments? Worried you’ll get in trouble?”

“Of course not,” David said. “But we were running the same program on you, and you’re fine.”

“Define fine,” I glared.

“I mean, your vision was enhanced, not... whatever that was. Why would the results be different for Megan?”

“I don’t know, Sherlock. You wrote the code. Maybe you miscalculated.”

David looked like he was about to argue, but bit his tongue.

“I’m sorry about your sister. But we need to understand what happened. If this gets out, it’ll change things.”

“Are you kidding? Of course it does – this changes everything. You think I give a fuck about our high school science project right now? It was a huge mistake. We have to cover it up, bury it. It’s too dangerous.”

“It might be too late for that now,” David said. “The tech is out there. People are going to start putting things together. We still have a chance to control the narrative.”

“I said no, and Megan isn’t a narrative. Megan’s more important than everything. She’s all that matters.”

“What about the interview?”

“I’ll cancel it,” I said. “We can’t tell anyone about this. Not now.”

David sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you at school tomorrow. Let me know if you need anything. If there’s anything I can do.”

“You’ve done enough,” I said, slamming the door.

***

I wore dark sunglasses to school the next morning. None of the teachers told me to take them off. People whispered as I walked by. The nude pics at Halloween. The viral video. And yesterday I’d gotten into a fight with Melissa. An actual fistfight. But they didn’t know the half of it. They didn’t know I’d put my sister in the hospital, because I’d hacked her DNA with stolen government tech. Dad said I was always trying to fix things; I’d always considered that a strength, but now it felt like a curse.

My jaw was still a little sore and there was a bruise on my left eye from one of Melissa’s knuckles, but that wasn’t the reason for the sunglasses. I couldn’t let whatever happened to Melissa, happen again to someone else. I didn’t know how to control it, so I was afraid of looking anyone in the eyes.

I didn’t even want to go to class and see the others. I didn’t want to talk about the project, that had ruined my sister’s life and got us into this mess. But I couldn’t be at home alone, either – Dad stopped by this morning on his way to work but didn’t even say hello. I’d be with Megan if I could, but I knew skipping school would just piss him off even more, and I needed him to calm down. He had to forgive me. Eventually.

Amy sent me a link on my way to school.

“Your sister made the news,” she said.

I tried scrolling through the article on my phone but nearly crashed the bike; so I asked Gloria to read the note to me.

Yesterday evening, at 6:54pm, a young woman named Megan Hartmann was rushed to the hospital after a traumatic medical incident, permanently blinded. After losing her mother to cancer earlier this year, Megan aged 9 is one of the first patients to benefit from the NHS’s new therabot program. After making nearly miraculous progress and being told her retinoblastoma was in remission, Megan suddenly lost all vision in both eyes. Was it just a terrible accident, or perhaps an early warning sign that Dr. Kastler’s therabot program is not as safe as it seems? Alice Tan here, with the Daily Report.

Something about hearing my mother’s voice refer to herself in the third person was unnerving. For the first time I realized how weird it was; immortalizing my mother on my smart phone. I was Dr. Frankenstein, trying to create life out of corpses, and creating unholy creatures. First my mother, and now my sister.

First period was quiet. Greg was weird because I’d kissed him. Apparently he’d broken up with Melissa, for good, after she attacked me. It was all over school. David was weird because I yelled at him last night, for enabling me. Even though I knew it wasn’t his fault, I wasn’t ready to apologize, at least not in front of everyone. And Amy looked like she was trying to keep the smug look off her face. Her pained expression said, “I’m so sorry about your sister and I told you so.”

“We need to keep our heads low for a few days,” I said finally. “It’s getting too much heat right now, and since Megan – I heard there was going to be an investigation.”

“They won’t get the program, the app, our code. All they’ll know is the bots went haywire for some reason,” Brad said.

I bit my lip. “I already told them,” I said. “They know it was me.”

“Why would you do that?” David asked slowly, his palms on the table.

“It could be my sister’s life, okay? Don’t worry, I kept your names out of it. As far as anyone’s concerned, I did it all myself.”

“Todd knows the truth,” Brad said. “He knows about three of us.”

“But he’s not going to say anything. Not until he gets what he wants.”

“What about the interview?” Greg said. David must have filled in the others. “The announcement?”

“We have to hold off, until we figure out what happened to Megan,” David said. “And also... we need to talk about Brianna.”

I shot him a look of gratitude for siding with me, but dropped it when he changed the subject back to me.

“What about Bree?” Amy said suddenly.

I sighed, but the others needed to know.

“I’ve been having… adverse side effects, since the dance.”

“And you told David, instead of your BFF?” Amy frowned.

“I thought it was a fluke, until yesterday. During the fight, with Melissa. It was like I Jedi-mind tricked her. She just, stopped. Shut down, like I’d turned her off. It was creepy.”

David explained the science of what he thought was happening.

Amy looked worried, but Brad’s smile kept growing.

“You have superpowers,” he said. “Do you have X-ray vision? Can you light stuff on fire with your eyes?”

“Cool it, Dude,” Greg said. “Her sister’s in the hospital.”

“You were right,” I said to Amy. “We were playing with stuff we can’t understand. Maybe some things are better off the way they are.”

“That’s bullshit,” Brad said. “What we created, it’s going to be huge. It’s going to get out there. If we sit on it, Todd will figure out a way to do it anyway, but we’ll get nothing. Plus it works, like, really well.”

“Except with Brianna and her sister, and we don’t know why.” David said. “You saw Tan’s article this morning, right? If we announced SelfX right now, all anyone would talk about is Megan’s accident. Wouldn’t take long for them to put two and two together; they’d know it was us. We don’t want to get mixed up in that.”

“But Breena’s hot right now,” Brad said. “I mean, like ten million views hot. If she does an interview right now it will be everywhere.”

“It’s too dangerous,” I said.

“Maybe we should just take the deal,” Amy said. “Let Todd worry about all the press and stuff. Wash our hands of it. A million bucks is pretty good for a high school science project.”

“A million each,” Greg said.

“Plus, Todd’s right,” I said. “They’ll connect the dots. They’ll know we stole the files from the government. We could be facing jail time.”

“You stole the files,” Amy glared, crossing her arms.

“Actually,” Brad said, rubbing his jaw, “I leaked those already. I thought we talked about this before?”

“But we didn’t all agree,” David said, pushing up his glasses.

“Better to ask forgiveness. Don’t worry, it was anonymous. I just shared the government files in a torrent file. They’re out there, now. It’s just information, but it won’t be long before other people start building creative applications.”

Brad grabbed his notebook from his backpack and flipped it open so we could see the screen.

“People have been using it too, since the video. Everybody we invited, and dozens more want in. The leaked instructions on how to recycle bots are getting mad traffic. Other kids are joining too, kids from other schools. This is about to blow up, huge.”

“They’ll still figure it out that it was us,” Greg said.

“They can’t prove anything,” David said. “What if we just set up an anonymous profile on the Arcana store and mask the IP? Get the app out there first, without taking credit.”

“We’ve already passed out about twenty of the vials,” Brad said. “People are accessing our private network but nobody is posting results or data yet.”

“Free therabots,” David said. “You know the hackers in this school are going crazy with them; they’re probably just reluctant to run tests. Nobody is going to download some .exe file from the Internet and infect their own system with it. But if it was on the app store, with proper branding and reviews, it would boost the trust factor.”

“Plus, we won’t be the ones responsible,” Brad said. “I mean at least not directly. The government put this tech out there. We’ll have a checkbox or warning with a disclaimer. We’re not actually putting the therabots in people’s bodies, or forcing them to risk a 3rd party application – that’s their decision.”

“You’re not serious,” Amy said. “Of course we’re responsible – if we put out a buggy product that we know could have dangerous side-effects.”

“Have you never watched a commercial on TV?” Brad snorted. “Half of the ad is a list of all the horrible side effects you might experience, and people can die from an overdose of any medicine. It’s all about moderation. But other people’s self-control isn’t our problem.”

“If we were going to do it, health applications should be free,” I said. “Immune boost, anything that cures sickness or disease; all the stuff we got from the government files. It’s safe, proven, stable. But we make it open source, we can’t profit from people’s misery.”

“The cosmetic features would be paid,” David said, nodding. “That way, everyone gets help, and those who can afford to play around with their appearance pay more. It’s fair for everyone.”

“Except whoever can’t afford to get the therabots,” Amy said darkly.

***

We tabled the discussion, unable to agree on anything concrete. There were still too many variables. It felt like a tidal wave of shit was about to crash, and I didn’t see an out. But we started all this; we could either grab a surfboard and ride the wave, or wipeout early because we were afraid to stand up.

On the other hand, Megan. The therabots could heal, but they could also do harm. We had to figure out what really happened. Maybe Megan was playing around with the app or something. Maybe David or I had calculated wrong. We had to make sure it would never happen again, but that meant we had to find the source of the problem and really understand it. I was in over my head.

I rode my bike the hospital after school. No chance of sneaking in now; all the staff knew me already. I was so distracted by my thoughts, I walked past Megan’s room at first, but inside it was clean and empty. My heart started to pound as I raced downstairs to the main desk.

“Megan Harmond,” I breathed, catching my breath. “She’s not in her room.”

The nurse coughed and looked up.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said, “so she’s been moved to recovery. In a private room.”

She wrote down the room number, but then caught my arm when I turned to leave.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “They came last night, there was nothing we could do.”

My eyes widened and I raced towards the other end of the hospital. This wing was practically empty, most of the lights were off, and the floors were so polished they shone. I almost passed my father in the small waiting area, asleep in the corner, his chin on his chest and his arms crossed.

I decided to let him sleep, but when I walked towards the room at the end of the hall, it was blocked by two guards. Men in black suits, with a bulge on their hips I was pretty sure were from guns. Past them I could see a man working at a desk. He looked familiar, but I didn’t stick around. The room was half-covered in plastic and what looked like a crisis center had been set up against the far wall, with expensive equipment and med supplies. Through another doorway I could see a bed and what looked like my sister’s foot.

“This area of the hospital is off-limits,” one of the guards said as I approached. They were wearing blue paper masks, like there was some kind of viral outbreak, like whatever Megan had was contagious.

“Sorry, wrong room.” I said, ducking back out into the hall.

This time on the way back I noticed the huge standing basket near the waiting area. It looked like a large bouquet of flowers, the white lilies gave off a sickly sweet smell. But deeper in the basket, there was a cornucopia of gifted tech. The Arcana symbol caught my eye from almost a dozen white boxes; a few new aPhones, an aPad, a 13” and 15” Arcbook, and even some new tech that hadn’t been released yet. My eyes grew wide at a pair of brand new VR goggles and a haptic glove. I might have only been a casual gamer, but that was partially because I could never have afforded a quality setup.

I reached into the basket to pull out a thick card that read get well soon. Inside the note was a handwritten message in blue ink.

Arcana is the leader in assistive technology; grab one of our devices and noise-canceling headphones to listen to music, movies, podcasts or audiobooks. We’ve also included a lifetime memberships to aFlicks, where you can stream an unlimited amount of content. You may have lost your vision, but don’t let that keep you away from your passions.

I frowned at the signature. How had Todd even found out about my sister so quickly? I mean, yeah she was on the news today, but to have this note and basket delivered immediately? I guess nothing is impossible for a tech billionaire.

The basket seemed tone-deaf somehow, but it was probably written by an intern anyway. Back in the waiting room, Dad was awake and talking to Dr. Jenkins. I froze when they both turned to look at me, but I was tired of walking on eggshells.

“What the hell is all this?” I asked. “Megan’s in quarantine? I can’t even see my own sister?”

“They’re sending some people down from Washington,” Dr. Jenkins said. “There’s going to be an investigation. I could lose my job.”

I scoffed but resisted the urge to roll my eyes when Dad frowned at me. I felt a little bad for Dr. Jenkins, but I didn’t give a shit about his job security when my sister was being watched by armed guards.

Dr. Jenkins excused himself and went to do his rounds.

“You should go home, Dad,” I said, as the silence drifted for a few moments. “You’ve been here since last night. She’s stable, and the government will take good care of her.”

“I just,” he said, looking exhausted, “I hate not knowing what’s happening.”

“I’ll stay,” I said. “Seriously, I can catch up on homework. I’ll call you the second anything changes. But you need to shower, eat and take a nap, you’re no good to Megan like this.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, or even get angry, but then he rubbed his eyes and nodded his head.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said, grabbing his coat.

After he’d left, I opened a few of the Arcana boxes to set up Megan’s accounts. I was throwing the packaging away when a receipt with my Dad’s signature caught my eye. It was from a pawn shop, for two gold wedding bands and one diamond solitaire. I squeezed the paper in my fist. If we’d just taken Todd’s offer, we wouldn’t have to worry about money at all. I decided to sell half the load from Arcana – we didn’t need that much tech. On the other hand, it was a nice gesture, and Megan must be going crazy from boredom in there. If only there was a way to give her this stuff.

I heard a door close, and I ducked down as I saw a tall man with grey hair and a white labcoat stroll down towards the vending machines.

He looked familiar, but it took a moment to place him.

Ted Kastler, from the NHTC. He was on the phone, hitting the buttons and then bending down to retrieve a packet of chips while he finished his conversation.

“I promise sir, this won’t derail anything, we’re still 100% on track. We’ll just spin the story. We’ve isolated the threat. Just some meddlesome kids. We’ll begin the procedure tomorrow.”

Was he talking about Megan? What were they going to do to her? I peeked down the hall, but the main door was shut and the guards were still outside the room. I don’t know why she had to be guarded.

I grabbed my backpack and headed towards the main exit. I waved to the night nurse on the way out, and made sure she saw me leaving. Then I swung around back and cut through the bushes. Quarantine be damned. I had to see my sister. I scrambled up a drainpipe to reach the third floor ledge. This high, the ground was dizzying below me, but it was dark enough I probably wouldn’t be seen. I crept along the ledge until I found Megan’s room. It was dim except for the lights coming from the array of machines surrounding Megan’s bed. I looked to make sure the room was empty before gently pushing on the window. It was locked. I carefully reached into my backpack and pulled out my small tools, then slid a thin razor through the crack to push the latch off the hook. The window blew outward, and I grabbed the ledge for support. I’d have to hack my balance later if I wanted to continue doing this kind of stuff.

Megan’s whole head was in some kind of helmet, but it was bulky and functional. Government tech, not like the sleek gear Arcana made. Blinking blue and pink lights twinkled from the shadows. I sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed Megan’s hand.

After a few moments, she squeezed back.

“Brianna?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s me,” I said. Her bandages had been removed, but she was wearing some kind of blue-light visor. Monitors set up next to the bed kept track of her vitals.

“How’s it going?” I asked, cursing myself for the stupid question.

“The food mostly sucks,” she said. “It’s so bizarre, eating without looking at your food. Things taste differently. I was sure I was eating chocolate pudding, before a nurse told me it was strawberry. How is that even possible?”

“I guess it’ll take some getting used to,” I said. “Are you in any pain?”

“Not really. Dr. Jenkins and dad were keeping me busy at first. Dad was reading me books. Dr. Jenkins brought chocolate and doughnuts. But then all these people showed up, and they moved in, and this one guy was asking me all these questions. They took samples, blood, pee, everything. Kind of gross trying to do that stuff without being able to see what you’re doing.”

“I can’t imagine,” I said.

She lifted the visor and blinked. I gasped as I saw her face in the dim glow of the machines.

“Is it that bad?” she asked in a small voice.

I lifted my fingers and brushed her cheek carefully.

“No, it just surprised me,” I said. The bandages were gone and her skin was clear. But her eyes – they were all white, practically iridescent like clear ice, and with no pupil. She looked like a ghost, like she was possessed. Beautiful, in a way, but haunting.

“Are you going to get in trouble?” she asked. “For this?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “But it seems like the NHTS want to cover this whole thing up, so maybe not. Hey, want to hear something crazy? I got a message from Todd Brieker.”

“Shut up,” Megan said, sitting up.

“He was interested in the project and reached out.”

“Todd Brieker was interested in your science fair project? That’s incredible Bree!”

“Yeah, well that was before all this,” I said. “He probably wouldn’t touch us with a ten-foot pole now.” I bit my lip, frowning. Todd had sent his gift basket after I’d already turned him down, when he found out about Megan. Did that mean he was still interested in working together?

“Anyway,” I said, “he sent us some killer stuff.”

I ran her hands over all the new gear, and helped her set up her new devices. There was a finger-print login feature, and she could ask Gloria for almost anything she wanted, and use the earbuds to listen to music or TV shows.

“Can I use your phone?” she asked finally. “I just want to hear her voice.”

“Do you even remember mom’s voice? I mean the real one?”

“Maybe,” she said. “I don’t know. But it’s still soothing.”

Megan picked out a fantasy novel and had Gloria read it to her in my mother’s voice. We set it on speaker with the volume low so we could both listen. It was a surprisingly good patch, all things considered; it almost sounded like Mom was really here with us reading a bedtime story.

After a while I realized Megan was sleeping, so I gently took my phone back. I scrolled through messages and saw two new ones, from Jens and Todd. I tapped on Todd’s message, but it was just a link to a VR room. I decided to test out the new headset and haptic gloves.

I didn’t invite the others this time. Whatever Todd wanted, it was personal. I strapped on the gloves and headset, but as soon as I put the gear on my phone rang.

I could see the caller ID in my field of vision, to the right of my screen. The CEO of Arcana, Todd Brieker, was calling me. I lifted my trembling fingers to swipe the notification and answer the call.

“How did you get this number?” I asked.

“You’re kidding, right?” he chuckled.

My vision faded into blinding light and it felt like I was falling through space for a moment. Then I was in a vast library. A stream was running through the middle. The books were musty and lit by torches, revealing long corridors and crumbling stone arches. In the center was a wide desk, with parchment and a quill and ink set, next to a stack of gold coins and a miniature scale. Todd was dressed as some kind of Medieval baron, with furs and leather, warming his hands by the fire.

“We can still do this thing,” he said, without turning around. “Together. Megan’s medical bills, paid. Plenty of money to pay for university, and here at Arcana you can work on whatever projects you want. We’ve been developing a technology for the blind, accessing the vision cortex directly, bypassing the eyes altogether.”

“You mean, you could make Megan see again.”

“It’s possible, with your help.”

There was a dangerous gleam in his eye as he watched my reaction, and my eye was drawn to the silver dagger on his hip. Something felt off. The tech was basically out there already. Why did he need our help, especially if our program was faulty or dangerous?

“What about what happened with Megan?” I asked. “Aren’t you afraid?”

“New technology always comes with some bumps, but your experiments will be safer done in a proper lab, with support. This kind of thing never has to happen again.”

I bit my lip, it still didn’t explain what was going on with me, but Todd wasn’t wrong. With his help we could figure it out, he had the resources. The NHTC were just treating us like dumb kids, criminals even.

“And it’s not just about the tech,” Todd continued. “I see great potential in you and your friends. As it is, if word gets out about what really happened, you’ll be lucky to get a job at McDonalds. I hate to see talent go to waste.”

I chewed my lip, thinking over his offer. Amy and Greg would be happy to take the deal, and I was over my head. David and Brad wanted to fight the system, but I wasn’t interested in politics. I didn’t want my family to suffer for some personal quest for tech autonomy. The Todd Briekers of the world would always win.

“Can I think about it?” I asked quietly.

“I suppose, but this really is your only option. I suggest you take it. Things could get much worse.”

The call closed out, and suddenly I was booted from the system. I blinked my eyes in the dim room, Todd’s words ringing in my ears. It sounded like a warning, or a threat. I heard voices in the hall and ducked my head. I’d just made it out the window when the door opened. I crept back down the ledge and lowered myself down the drainpipe.

By the time my feet hit the ground, my muscles were shaking. One of the orderlies was smoking a cigarette near the side entrance. I bummed one and asked for a light. I wasn’t really a smoker, but my nerves were shot and I felt jumpy. I sat in the dark, feeling dizzy and letting the smoke burn my lungs, blowing out great white clouds of smoke.

I jumped when my phone rang again, but this time it was just David.

“Hello?” I said, holding the phone up to my ear.

“It wasn’t us,” David said quickly.

“What?”

“I found some code running in the background processes of your sister’s therabots. I’ve never seen anything like it before, it looks like some kind of virus. But it’s not from the NHTC, and we didn’t write it.”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“There’s someone else,” David said. “Someone else did this to your sister. And I don’t think it was an accident. This was the intended result.”

“But who could’ve—” I broke off as I looked at the new gear in my backpack; the gifts from Todd. The threatening phone call. He’d do anything to get this tech. He was trying to force my hand.

I held the lit cigarette against my arm and winced in pain as it burned a hole in my skin. My eyes glowed ultraviolet in the dark, brighter than the red glow of the cigarette. David said that Todd was dangerous. If he got this tech, he’d be inside everyone. He’d have total power. Our version may not be perfect or bug free, but at least it was well-intended. If Todd was willing to cripple my little sister for this tech, there was no limit to how far he’d go. The only way to keep it out of his hands was to make it public, as soon as possible.

“Still there?” David asked.

“Do it,” I said quietly. “Release the app. What’s the worst that can happen?”

20

I got a message from Greg early the next morning. My heart squeezed with recognition at the name, but it wasn’t just giddiness or surprise. There was something darker there, more like dread. Anyway, the message wasn’t personal, only two words. It’s done.

There was also a link to a meeting room and a time, just before school. Weird. I grabbed some toast and orange juice. Dad was already gone, today he’d be catching up on some work before spending a few hours with Megan. If all went well, she was supposed to be released today.

I put on the new VR helmet and gloves and the giant noise-canceling headphones. Despite the quality build, I felt lighter and less encumbered with Arcana’s high-end gear. Even so, I wasn’t ready for the VR experience I was about to enter. After a couple loading screens, the landscape and texture details from Greg’s link began populating the space. It looked like someone brushing paint on a white canvas, then cleaning up the details until the brushstrokes were invisible.

Suddenly I was in the dark. The air was crisp but thin; I felt light headed and leaned against an ancient crumbling stone wall, outlined by the light of the half moon. My eyes adjusted and I gasped at the scene around me; jagged mountain peaks cradled stepped-agriculture and flat valleys, between stone houses cutting up into the higher ground. The steps and pathways were remarkably precise, and a stream trickled next to them, with irrigation from what I assumed was a natural spring.

I saw a figure down below in the darkness, standing in a shelled out building with no roof. By the time I approached him, it was light enough to recognize Greg’s features. He was staring out at the dawning horizon but turned when I stepped on a branch.

“Hey,” he said, smiling.

“Hey,” I said, crossing my arms. I thought he was going to talk about the other night, or apologize again, or something. But he just sighed and took a drink from a steaming mug.

“Want some?” he asked, just as Amy materialized out of nowhere.

“Machu Picchu,” she said, taking my cup of coffee from Greg. “Cool. I’ve always wanted to go to Peru.”

“What’s this all about?” David said, arriving suddenly. “Couldn’t it wait until school?”

“I thought we needed to immortalize the event,” Greg said. A large tub full of ice and five bottles of champagne appeared out of nowhere.

“You know we can’t actually drink that, right?” Amy said.

“We don’t have to,” Greg said. “It’s just something to mark the occasion. We just launched our first app; and not just any app. This app could change the world.”

“You’re strangely optimistic this morning,” I said.

“I’ve been up all night drinking red-bull,” Greg said, “trying to navigate the terms and fine-print in the Arcana store. Also, we’ve had 3,925 downloads in the last hour.”

“Yeehaw!” Brad shouted. Through the open stone windows I could see him approaching on some kind of large animal.

“Is that an alpaca?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know,” Brad said, dismounting, “is it?”

“I feel like we should be dressed up for this,” Greg said, frowning at our casual base clothes. “Hold on.” He closed his eyes, and a second later he was wearing a full black tux.

“You think that’s a suit? I’ll show you a suit.” Brad smirked. He spun around, and when he stopped again he was wearing a purple velvet suit with a ruffled shirt and an oversized top-hat.”

“You look Willa Wonka,” Greg said.

“I’ve been saving this one for a special occasion,” Amy said with a wink. I was physically pushed backwards as her skirt expanded around her, billowing out into thick folds of hot pink. She waved her hand over her head and her hair arranged into a tall, fancy bun.

David and I exchanged a look. Then he shrugged and changed into a sharp suit and tie. Nothing fancy, but casual chic. It looked good on him.

“One more thing,” I said, reaching up and taking off his glasses. “You don’t need them here anyway.”

“How about you?” he said.

“I don’t really keep a lot of virtual dresses around.”

“Just put on what you were wearing last time,” David said. He grinned a little, and I could have sworn his cheeks got a little red.

“Oh you mean this little thing?” I said, putting on my standard gear for Planet Plunder. The blue miniskirt showed off my black stockings, and was covered with straps and buckles. I pulled at the white cloak, feeling self-conscious as my classmates stared at me like they’d never seen me before.

“Ahem,” Greg said finally, popping the cork and pouring five glasses full of champagne.

“A toast. To our success,” Brad said.

“To SelfX,” Amy said raising her glass. I jumped back when I took mine, spilling half my glass. With my new gloves, I could feel the fizzle of champagne against my arm. I stuck my fingers in the glass, then poured some champagne over my hand and laughed.

“Um, we’re kind of trying to have a moment here,” Brad said. The other four were already holding their glasses up against each other.

“Sorry,” I said. “These gloves are amazing. It feels cold, and wet.”

“If only we could actually taste it,” Amy said.

“Or get drunk,” Brad said.

“I’ve thought about some kind of nicotine patch,” David said, “so people could smoke in VR and actually alleviate the cravings.”

“Awesome,” Greg said. “In the meantime, it’s not really for drinking.” He grinned, then threw his glass against the stone wall. It shattered, filling the early morning dawn with broken glass and fizzling champagne.

Brad picked up a whole bottle and shook it up, then he popped the cork with a knife and jumped around, spraying gushing champagne at all of us. I could feel it on my hands and arms, and even when I brushed the champagne off my face and hair, my fingers felt wet and sticky.

David picked up a bottle as well, and slammed it against the stone, breaking off the bottom. Amy and I tossed our glasses off the edge of the ruins, then the five of us stood watching the sunrise illuminate the ancient stones of the fallen Incan empire.

An hour later, we were in Mr. Leister’s first period class playing on our cell phones. At least, that’s what he thought each time he came around to make sure we were on task. We told him he couldn’t see the finished project until we were done; though actually he could have gone and downloaded it from the app store, like we all did.

The public version of SelfX was similar to what we’d already been using on our phones, just stripped down to some basic features, and with a payment gateway so people could actually buy enhancements. We decided to make most features free for the first few days, and have them automatically reset after twenty-four hours like we’d been doing for ourselves. After that, most tweaks were $1 a day. One fancy look could take as many as ten individual tweaks, which would be $300 a month just for cosmetic changes.

Then there were some invisible apps: more concentration, muscle workout, fall asleep easily, increased agility, stomach of steel, immune system boost. They were hard to see the results unless you used them for a few weeks, so we set them at a standard $10/month plan.

“Just broke 10,000 downloads,” Greg said. “That’s like, 2000 an hour.”

“Is that good?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know, what are we measuring against? Farmville and CandyCrush get a million downloads a day. For a health and wellness app, it’s doing okay.”

“It’s not exactly health and wellness though,” Amy said.

“But putting it under games would be misleading, and some kid with a terminal illness might accidentally hack themselves.”

“Note to self,” Amy said. “Add age verification.”

“Also,” David said, “the app is only for those patients who qualified for the NHTS program. Nobody knows it exists, that it’s possible, so nobody is looking for it yet.”

“The suspense is killing me,” Amy said. “I keep expecting the FBI to raid the school or something.”

“Nobody knows it’s us,” Greg said. “The app, I mean, regular users won’t be able to find our personal information or even the location.”

“I don’t know about that,” Brad said. “I mean, if people who are already following Basic Bree’s account or have seen that Halloween video, some of the hacks in the app are the same ones we used for our costumes.”

“But they can’t prove anything,” David said. “Probably.”

“In that case…” Brad’s thumbs raced across his keyboard, then he put his phone away. “Just posted the app to Reddit, YouTube and Facebook from an anonymous account. People who have seen the video should get an alert about the update.”

“Didn’t you say there were like 10 million views?”

“Thirteen, now,” Brad said. “Let’s meet at lunch and trade numbers.”

“One more thing,” David said quietly just before the bell rang. “All our test kits are being used, as far as I can tell. The hashtag #SelfX is trending and Sequim is ground zero. But it does means we’re getting more data, and people are leaving comments.”

“It’s a bit late for that now,” Amy said.

“Not necessarily – if there’s any big issues, we can release a patch or an updated version of the app.”

“The real question is,” I mumbled, “how many people are going to go blind today?”

“Or get super-powers,” Brad smirked.

***

The rest of the day was weird. I was practically glued to my phone, more so than usual, and I even got it taken away during third period. As soon as I got it back I continued scrolling through the comments on the app. There were hundreds. Most people laughed it off as a stupid, potentially dangerous joke. But a few people wrote long comments. A husband with a terminal illness who didn’t qualify for the government’s program, but used his brother-in-laws recycled therabots to cure an inoperable brain tumor. A granddaughter who tweaked her grandfather’s therabots and brought him back from dementia.

When I bothered to look up from my phone, people were making way too much eye contact, so I took out my dark shades and kept them on between classes. I also began using my basic stack again – it seemed weird not to, now that the app was out. I got a few nods and smirks from classmates, and heard at least one person whisper SelfX as I passed. It was like the whole school was buzzing with a shared secret, and for the first time I was in on it.

The hashtag was everywhere, but mostly on Twitter, where people were posting close-up before and after pictures, with time stamps. There were a few unexpected results, and I wondered if other device kids were already dismantling our code and creating their own patched version of the app for off-label uses.

I was almost to the lunch room when I got a WOL message from Jens that made me trip over my own feet.

I know it was you. We need to talk about your app, now.

My pulse raced, and my vision seemed to zoom in on the message until everything else was a blur. Bodies moved past me in the halls but I stumbled forward, gripping the phone with both hands. I looked up when I heard the scream, and a shape raced past me, shoving me hard to the side. I caught a glimpse of blonde hair and sagging skin that turned my stomach, just before my phone hit the ground, shattering the screen.

“Shit!” I yelled, picking it up and blowing away the shards of glass. I tried to scroll but sliced my finger instead, smearing blood on the screen that filled the cracks and made them worse. Dark red lines cut through the content on my feed.

I went to the bathroom to clean my finger, but there was already a group of girls in there. They looked at me coldly, and someone was sobbing in the stall. Whatever it was, I didn’t need the drama, so I went outside instead, across the parking lot, and sat with my broken phone.

“Gloria,” I whispered, tapping my thumb and finger together. “Are you okay in there?”

My mother’s voice responded.

“Everything is s-super,” she said, glitching. “I’m f-fine, how was your day at school?”

By the time I made it to the lunch hall, everyone else had gathered at our table. I grabbed some food and joined them, but before I’d even sat down, I heard my name being called over the PA. My cheeks turned red as half the launch hall turned to stare at me. I wondered if they would have even recognized my name a few weeks ago. By my count this was the third time I’d been called to the principal’s office.

“I’m coming with you,” David said suddenly. He stood up and came around the table. I felt like I should tell him he couldn’t just barge into the principal’s office, but something about his demeanor stopped me. There was a hard glint of confidence in his eyes I’d never noticed before.

In the office I could see three teachers talking to a girl with blonde hair. When she turned and I saw her profile, I gasped.

It looked like she’d tripped down the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Her eyes were red from crying, and she was wearing a huge straw hat, but I could still see every feature. I’m pretty sure one eye was larger than the other, but it was hard to tell since they were so bloodshot. I realized, I knew exactly what she looked like before, like I was looking at a photograph.

“It’s Melissa,” I said quietly.

“That’s Melissa?” David asked.

Mr. Leister was waiting for us with Mr. Deckler and the new counselor, Vanessa Briggs.

“Shit, this is going to be bad,” Brad said. I didn’t notice he’d followed us, too. Greg and Amy must have stayed behind.

“Is it true?” Mr. Leister said as soon as we came in and shut the door. “Your science fair project, you’ve been hacking therabots. That’s why you’ve been so secretive?”

“We can explain,” I said.

“You don’t have to, Melissa told us everything. How you put illegal therabots into her drink when she wasn’t looking, then hacked them to alter her appearance.”

“Hold up,” David said, “that’s not what happened.”

“You in particular, Breanna, should have known better.”

“It was my idea,” I said. “I just wanted to help my sister—”

“Well it was reckless, dangerous. And you can forget about the science fair. We can’t let you compete.”

“Says who?” Brad asked.

“You haven’t even seen our project, what we can do,” I said.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Mr. Deckler said, pulling out a small vial and putting it on the desk. “You’ve been supplying stolen therabots to students and encouraging them to self-modify. Melissa showed us your online forms, the app you made. We may have to get the police involved until we get to the bottom of this. Just hand in all the files, all your research and test subjects. Everything you’ve built on school property belongs to the school.”

“My ass it does,” Brad said.

“Language,” Mr. Leister said.

“Sorry,” Brad said. “I meant fuck you.”

“If you refuse, I’ll have no choice but to expel you. Without a high school degree, getting into college will be difficult. You have until the end of the day to decide.”

Melissa caught my eye and I could have sworn I saw her smirk, though it was hard to tell with all the skin hanging around her mouth. We were almost out of the room when David turned and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Just to be clear,” he said to the teachers, “under the inner-judicial textbook section 1A257, paragraph five, the school will bear full legal responsibility for the actions of minors on school grounds, during school hours. You can’t prove that the app is ours, or that the therabots were stolen. You have one extremely unreliable witness, who has a personal vendetta and a history of bullying Brianna. Then of course there’s the Facebook profile set up to share Brianna’s naked pictures with adult men; which was created on school grounds, during school hours.”

“Is that a threat?” Mr. Deckler said, with red cheeks.

“I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if we kept this in-house for now, don’t you? Or are you ready to add a child pornography ring to your resume?”

David smirked and followed us outside, shutting the door behind him. Mr. Deckler looked like he might faint.

“That was awesome,” Brad said.

“How’d you know about that Facebook group?” I asked.

“It was an educated guess,” David said.

“You bluffed,” Brad said, punching his arm.

“Brianna, a word?” Miss Briggs said, opening the door. She glanced at the boys, but didn’t make them leave. They stood on either side of me protectively, like a pair of wolves.

“I need to know for certain, did you do anything to Melissa with your app?”

“No,” I said, “I swear.”

“Okay, good. I think we can keep this off your record, you just have to collect and turn in your research. I can go with you now if you’d like—”

“Nobody is laying a finger on our research,” Brad said.

“I’m not sure you fully realize what you’re up against, this could be a national story overnight if we’re not careful. You could end up in jail.”

“We’ll take our chances,” Brad grinned.

“We’ll think about it,” I said. “I promise.”

“Fine,” Miss Briggs said, “but do me a favor. If anybody offers you a way out of this, someone with the power and resources to protect you, take the deal.”

***

“Was it one of you?” I asked when we were alone.

“What? No!” Brad said. “Although she would have deserved it. And it would have been hilarious. Still, no. Messing up someone’s face like that, that’s another level.”

“There’s no way,” David said. “You can’t program the bots without the person’s phone, it has a fingerprint lock. And you’d need to shock her with the dongle, it’s not like she wouldn’t notice.”

“So what happened?” Brad asked.

“She did it to herself,” David said. “She must have intercepted the bots of one of her friends and hacked her own code.”

“That seems extreme, even for her.”

“You were getting all the attention. She needed to get it back,” David shrugged.

“We need to move the stuff,” Brad said. “Quickly, before they find it.”

“I came in this morning,” David said. “Already moved everything to the trunk of my car.”

“You’re a genius,” Brad said. His phone dinged and he pulled up a notification. “Damn,” he said, his eyes widening as he scrolled through his feed.

“We just hit #1 in the app store, that’s over ten thousands downloads. And some people are actually paying for the upgrades.”

“Have we made any money?” I asked.

“Just over $20,000.”

“A day?” David asked.

“In the last hour,” Brad said.

Mention Greg’s game.

21

We decided to meet up after school. None of us felt like hosting, so this time we went to the diner for bottomless coffees and apple pie.

Greg had a game that night, so he left early. He’d been wearing his uniform all day.

“Does he look taller to you?” Amy asked as he was leaving.

“Maybe a couple of inches,” I said.

After he was gone, the rest of us kept scrolling through feeds and reading the comments out loud. Some of the bigger news outlets had started talking about our app, then it got picked up with click-bait titles.

Mysterious new app lets you alter your face.

The real face swap.

People were also starting to sell hacked or recycled therabots online, including several new startups that seemed to be sourcing their bots from China.

My phone vibrated, even though the glass was cracked the notification still popped up.

Susan Miles from GWN news, 7pm.

“Oh shit,” I said. “I was supposed to be on the news today, talking about my Halloween costume.”

“That dance seems like ages ago,” Amy said.

“I know, right?”

“Are you going to do it?” David asked.

“What, the interview?” I asked.

“The school wants us to turn in all our research, give up control. They might even sue for a share since we made it on the school grounds.”

“Could they do that?”

“It’s possible,” David said, “though, that also works in our direction. If we get in trouble for all this, we can shift blame to them. They’ll have to take some responsibility.”

“We’re still protected,” Amy said, “so far. But as soon as you put your face out there, you’ll be a target.”

“Take responsibility, take control,” Brad said. “Show them we aren’t just some dumb kids. We made something amazing. We should be proud of it.”

“Proud high-school dropouts?” Amy said. “Mr. Deckler was serious about expelling us.”

“Dude, we’ve made almost half a million dollars today,” Brad grinned. “That’s 100g’s each. But the app store doesn’t pay out until the end of the month. We could get screwed, it could get taken away from us. Fame is insulating.”

“Fine,” I said. “Who wants to drive me?”

David drove me to the studio, while Brad and Amy focused on replying to comments on the app and making status updates as people asked for new features.

Susan Miles was blonde and just starting to show wrinkles. I recognized her from TV but when I found the entrance to the news studio, she didn’t look happy to see me.

“Oh Dear,” she said, frowning. “You were supposed to get a phone call or message or something.”

“About what?” David asked.

“The segment we talked about over the phone, it’s been canceled.

We’ve shifted direction on the story we’re running,” she said tersely. “I’m sorry, I can’t be seen talking with you.”

She pointed towards the stage and I could see a girl sitting on a blue chair getting her makeup done. She turned and smiled at me over her shoulder. Melissa. She’d stolen my interview.

Her features were already back to normal, and with makeup she looked as pretty and poised as ever. We stood in the wings of the studio behind a row of bright stage lights as the interview began.

“This is Susan Miles from GWN news, and I’m here with a very serious issue. I’m joined today by Melissa Stanton, who was recently the victim of a horrific episode of cyber-bullying. But not just the online kind. Melissa, can you tell us, in your own words, what happened to you?”

“A girl at my school found a way to hack the government’s new therabot program. First she made herself pretty to steal my boyfriend, then she poisoned me with therabots and changed my face. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t even recognize myself.”

“I believe we have a picture of that, right Steve?”

A picture flashed on the screen above them, showing Melissa’s grotesque face from earlier. Large nostrils, a shrunken nose, droopy eyes and thin lips. Under the pictures, a scrolling message posed a question.

If we can hack each other, is anybody safe?

“There you have it, a new form of self-mutilation, with devastating risks even for non users. All thanks to the government’s radical new health technology and a dangerous group of cyberhackers. And I’m told a version of this same program has even been released to the public, is that right?”

Melissa nodded and held out her phone, showing the SelfX app.

“I don’t know for sure, but this probably isn’t legal. And it certainly isn’t safe. She put her own sister in the hospital, permanent blindness, from what I hear. Someone should definitely look into that.”

“One more thing, Melissa… do you know who is responsible for all this? Can you give us a name?”

“Sure,” Melissa grinned, pointing at me. “It’s Brianna Harmond, and she’s standing right over there.”

***

I froze as a camera swiveled towards me, and suddenly my face was on the large screen behind stage. My heart pounded as I studied my features. I was using the app and had on a few of my custom settings. I looked good, but frozen, like a deer in headlights. I stared directly into the camera, and somehow I could feel the people watching me. Thousands of them. My eyes itched and I knew they were getting bigger. I glanced up at the screen again and they flashed fluorescent pink. David thrust my sunglasses into my hand and I put them on hastily, then he grabbed my arm and led me out of the studio. No one tried to stop us.

“Where do you want to go?” David asked, without turning on the engine. My chest was tight and I felt like a couldn’t breathe. David rolled down the window, then started driving. He stopped at a small local park.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, as he got out of the car.

“It helps me think,” he said, nodding towards the swings. “I think, after that, some fresh air will do us both some good.”

I frowned but got out of the car and followed him. We sat in silence for a few minutes, swinging lightly, feeling the rush of air on my cheeks. The park was lined with tall dark pine trees and the playground equipment was red and rusty.

“I can’t believe she did that,” I said.

“It was just local news,” David said. “Maybe it won’t get picked up.”

“She called me a bully. She called me a biological terrorist.”

“It’s not all bad,” David said.

I stared at him with my mouth open.

“You wanted to go on TV, and you did. Though, showing that trick with your eyes wasn’t planned, it was still pretty interesting. I’ll bet we get a huge spike in downloads.”

“Even after what she said about Megan? May cause temporary blindness?”

“That wasn’t us, right? Wherever that code came from, it wasn’t what we released to the public. Maybe we rushed to market, but now people are using it. I have a feeling we’ll be tried in the court of public opinion.”

David was too calm, but maybe it’s because it wasn’t his name and face that had been slandered on live TV.

“But she basically accused of breaking the law; someone will look into it. Reporters, the government. They’ll find out about the stolen files and therabots.”

“They’ll assume,” David said. “But they can’t prove it.”

“We have to tell the others,” I said suddenly. “They may not have seen the news. Melissa didn’t name them, but it won’t be hard to figure out. Everyone at school has seen us together.”

“Greg’s got a game,” David said.

“Maybe the others can meet us there and we can talk after.”

“Excuse me, Brianna?” my mother’s voice made me jump. I twisted around so quickly I almost fell out of the swing, but we were alone. My phone was in my pocket, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t activated the remote by pressing my fingers together.

“Who’s that?” David asked.

“Gloria,” I said.

“Why’s she sound different?”

“I modded the voice,” I said. I didn’t tell him it was my mom’s.

“Yes?” I asked cautiously.

“You have a new message from Megan. Sounds important, thought you should know.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Is she supposed to do that? Initiate conversation?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I broke her today, so she’s probably glitchy. I’ll patch her to a new phone after the game.”

I put in my earbuds to listen to the message. I don’t know why I wanted privacy, but I wanted to hear it first before sharing it.

“What’s it say?” David asked.

“I don’t know, it’s a lot of silence, and a few mumbled phrases. Game. Van. Fire. Doesn’t make any sense. I think she butt-dialed me.”

We got back in the car and drove towards school. I texted the others to meet us at the game, and we waited outside in the parking lot. When the bright red sports car pulled up next to us and revved its engine, I thought it was just some asshole at first, but then Amy rolled down the window and pulled down her sunglasses at me.

“You bought a car?” I asked.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I leased it on credit.”

She was wearing all new clothes, and Brad was too, I noticed. He looked like he’d robbed a vampire emporium, with a shredded black T-shirt, ripped jeans and a new leather jacket. He almost looked like he was wearing eyeliner, but I knew it was the double eyelash trick from the app. It really made his eyes stand out.

“We doing this?” Brad asked.

“I haven’t been to a game since Freshman year,” Amy said.

“I’ve never been,” David said.

“Of course you haven’t,” Brad said.

“I’ve never seen you at a game,” I said, glaring at Brad.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of these things,” Brad said. “Present company excluded. Why are we here again?”

“We should be together,” I said. “All this publicity, it could come crashing down on us. Greg should at least know, we may not be as insulated as we thought, even though the app was anonymous.”

“We saw the news,” Amy said, putting a hand on my arm. “Melissa is such a bitch. You okay?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s not exactly the positive spin we wanted for our launch. I’m dreading going home, in case my dad has seen it.”

The game was already halfway over, but we found spots in the bleachers. Some of our classmates ogled us, eyes wide. It wasn’t just Amy and Brad’s new clothes. It was also me. They’d seen me naked. Now they’d seen my radioactive pink eyes glow on TV. I’d dressed conservatively in jeans, a black sweater and my leather jacket, but my pink hair still drew stares. We looked like an indie rock band. David seemed the odd one out; just a geek in glasses. He always wore simple, comfortable clothes, I’d heard someone else call him Mr. Rogers on occasion, thanks to the V-neck sweaters and collared shirts he preferred.

Some of our classmates were all dressed up, with painted faces and pom-poms, cheering for our team. It was easy enough to follow the game, even though I didn’t know all the rules. I used to come watch all the games, but Melissa was a cheerleader and she started giving me stink-eye when I just came to drool over Greg. Tonight, I didn’t care. I kept my eyes on his body, watching the way he moved. Tall and graceful. And he was good. Better than I remembered. At one point he slam-dunked the ball into the hoop with a jump that almost defied belief.

I realized I could predict which way the players were going to move by the way their muscles contracted. It was frustrating to watch as they faked each other out.

“What do you think the basketball league will do if they find out he’s using?” Brad said.

“It’s not illegal,” David said.

“Genetic modification for sports enhancement?” Amy asked. “It will be. It hasn’t been banned because nobody thinks it’s possible. I hadn’t thought about how this would impact sports. Will the Olympics need to get screened for therabot use?”

“Head’s up,” Brad said, nodding to the door.

Two men in dark suits strode in. Even from here I could see the small earbuds and the bulge under their jackets from holstered weapons.

“They don’t look local,” Amy said.

“FBI, probably,” David said.

The two men scanned the audience. Their eyes seemed to linger, on me especially, but then they sat in front watching the game.

“You think they’re here for us?” I asked.

Two more men came in from the other side of the gym. These ones didn’t even look at us before settling into the front row, their eyes focused intently on the game.

“They’re going to arrest Greg,” I said. “It must be about the app.”

“We should warn him,” Amy said.

“What’s he going to do,” I said, “run from the FBI?”

“Yes,” David said. “Right now, I bet they charge him with domestic terrorism. Which means, no trial. They could hold him indefinitely, use him as leverage against the rest of us.”

“But we’re not terrorists,” Amy said.

“Then we need to prove it,” David said. “We just need more time.”

We made a plan and decided to tell him during the next break. I waved to get his attention. He looked up and smiled at us. It made my heart sink; he thought we were here to support him, like friends. Then he saw our faces and knew something was wrong. I cut down to the sidelines and he met me away from the others, wearing his green and white jersey, with a towel around his neck and drops of sweat glistening from his forehead and cheeks.

“What’s up?” Greg asked.

“Keep looking at me, and don’t look up,” I said quietly. Greg nodded and focused on my eyes.

“There are men in the audience. We think they’re FBI. We think they’re here for you.”

Greg’s eyes went round.

“They may try and arrest you after the game. Leave early. Head to the treehouse and stay out there for a few days. Talk to your dad and get a good lawyer. We’ll fight this.”

He nodded, then reached out and squeezed my fingers. I could feel my heartbeat spike, and realized we were standing in front of the whole school holding hands. For the rest of the game, Greg was distracted and jumpy. He kept staring at the exits, trying not to watch the men in black. Still, he played well, racking up over a dozen points for his team. The final score was close but we were behind by one point. With a few seconds on the clock, Greg shot from the three-point line. I held my breath as it swished through the hoop just before the final buzzer rang. The stands erupted into cheers, and Greg’s team lifted him up and carried him around the gym floor. He looked nervous though and kept pushing them off until they let him down again. He tried to head straight to the locker room, but two of the men cut him off, blocking the door. He turned back the other way, but he was trapped as the other two men blocked his exit.

“Run!” I shouted.

I ran down the steps of the bleachers and kicked over the cooler of Gatorade. It fell and splashed over two of the agents. One of them slipped on the ice, hitting the ground hard. The other threw me a glare and muttered something under his breath. Greg raced back across the court. A fifth agent moved to intercept him. Greg pivoted out of his grasp, sprinted straight towards the other two agents, and jumped over them.

My mouth dropped as Greg soared at least fifteen feet into the air. His face was full of shock and he flailed his arms before catching the side of the hoop and hanging on. He started to pull himself up, but one of the agents shot him with a taser. His body convulsed as it was racked with electricity, then he let go and crashed to the floor, writhing on the ground with the whites of his eyes showing.

22

Two of the men picked Greg up, carrying him towards the exit by his arms and legs. The other two cleared the way. David and a few other students blocked their path.

“You can’t just arrest him,” David said. “What about his rights?”

One of the men sneered. His head was shaven and I could see the hint of a tattoo on his neck. Instead of responding, he punched David hard in the face, without breaking his stride, then pushed through the other students.

David collapsed, blood streaming from his nose. I ran to his side and helped him up.

“I’m okay,” he said, pushing my hand away.

“We’ve got to follow them,” Amy said. We ran to the parking lot just in time to see the men shove Greg into a black van. A second later Brad pulled up in the red sports car.

“We gonna save our boy or what?” he asked.

Amy jumped in next to him, but David arched an eyebrow at the two tiny backseats and waved them off.

“Don’t lose them,” he yelled. “We’re right behind you.”

Brad peeled out of the parking lot and followed the black van down the road. David and I ran to his car and followed them. Amy pinned her location so I knew where they were. They cut across town and got on the highway. But a couple stops later, they exited again and cut through a curving, forested path. We were close enough to see their taillights through the trees.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“They’re headed for the old airport,” David said.

Just then, the lead vehicle slammed on the brakes. The red car screeched ahead of us, swerving to avoid hitting the van. It was still moving too fast, so Brad veered the red car to the side and ended up next to the van. The van slammed into the car, knocking it sideways off the side of the road. The sports car smashed into a tree and crumpled like a tin can. I felt the crunch of metal under my skin. It felt like my skin was being ripped off, like the universe had been torn in half.

“Stop!” I screamed.

“We should keep going,” David said, his eyes trained on the black van, which was speeding up again. I grabbed the wheel and spun it hard. David slammed on the brakes and wrestled with his car for control, before skidding to a stop in the middle of the road.

I jumped out and ran back down the road until I could see the red car, practically folded in half around a tree trunk. Smoke was rising from the front. When I was close enough, it erupted into flames. The heat and force of the explosion blew my hair back. David grabbed me and held my arms as I sank to the ground. For a long moment there was silence, then I felt David’s muscles tense behind me.

“Something is moving,” he said quietly, tightening his grip.

Before I could respond, the car was ripped open from the inside. Half the frame bent outward, punctuated by the creaking sound of metal, then the side door snapped off from the body with a loud twang. A figure stood up, still holding nearly a third of the car. He tossed it away and it skidded down the road in a trail of sparks. In the glow of the flames, I could only see the silhouette of his bulky arms and shoulders, as rippling muscles burst out of scraps of leather and black fabric. He tilted his head into the light and I could see it was Brad, only he’d practically doubled in size. He was probably eight feet tall now and built like a tank. I held my breath as another figure crawled out of the car next to him, her body surrounded with fire.

Red and orange flames flickered around Amy. She looked like a lit torch, but didn’t appear to be in pain. She stretched out her hands, her eyes wide, and watched the glow of the flames lick her skin.

***

I stood in shock, staring at Amy in disbelief. David was faster to react. He grabbed a blanket from his car and wrapped it around her shoulders. It singed as it smothered the flames, and left Amy smoking like a doused candle. I approached cautiously and checked her skin. It was hot to the touch, but smooth.

“We’ve got to get off the streets.” David said. I didn’t know how he could be so calm and collected. I was still having trouble putting words together.

“Can’t fit,” Brad said, looking at the back of his hands, then turning his palms up and wiggling his hotdog-sized fingers.

“I don’t suppose you could like, turn back to normal?”

“How exactly, genius?”

“I don’t know,” David said. “How did you do this?”

“Dude I have no idea,” Brad said. “It just happened.”

“Greg’s house isn’t that far,” Amy said. “The treehouse is off the grid.”

David nodded and pointed through the trees. “It’s a couple miles. Think you’ll be alright?”

“Yeah,” Brad said, his eyes pulling back to Amy reluctantly, like he was afraid to leave her. “Just keep them safe.”

Then he turned and jumped into the trees.

I sat with Amy in the backseat of David’s car. I wanted to be close to her, but I didn’t know what to say, so I just squeezed her hand. David started the engine and cut through town using the small roads. Far away we could hear sirens.

“I should have died back there,” Amy said finally.

“But you didn’t,” I said.

“Severe stress. Defense mechanism,” David called over his shoulder, as if that explained everything. As if it was normal behavior.

“Brad saved me,” she said, closing her eyes. “Just before we hit the tree, he wrapped his arms around me. They were like steel bars on a carnival ride. I think I might have bruised my ribs.”

She lifted her shirt to show a dark purple bruise across her abdomen. She also had small cuts on her arms and face from the broken glass, and her eyes looked darker, or maybe just her eyebrows. Fiercer, somehow. More dangerous.

“And then?” David asked, peering through the rearview mirror.

“Then, the engine exploded. There was this wall of fire. I put my hand up, to stop it, and it… went inside me. I screamed, and I felt it in my throat, it was everywhere. Then it stopped hurting.”

My phone beeped, reminding me of the messages I’d been ignoring. Another one from Jens. He knew I was responsible for the app. It had seemed like a big deal earlier, but now everybody knew. However his latest message chilled my blood, and I felt goosebumps flourish on my skin.

Don’t go home. They’re waiting.

What are you talking about? I texted back.

Instead of answering, he posted a link to a private Illius VR room.

“Shit,” I said.

“What is it?”

“I have an online friend, he wants to meet. I think he might have information for us. But I broke my phone at school today, and I don’t have my gear.”

“Want us to stop and get it?” David asked.

“Maybe, but he told me specifically not to go home.”

That caught David’s interest.

“Who is this guy?”

“I don’t know, really. Friend from World of Legends.”

“And you trust him?”

I nodded. I’d known Jens since way before all this stuff started happening with the therabots.

“I’ll park around the corner,” David said. “Can you sneak in?”

“Can I sneak in,” I repeated, rolling my eyes.

David turned off the headlights and pulled up to the curb once we were near my house. The porchlights were on and the lights in the living room cast a yellow glow on the lawn outside. I peered into the darkness of my street, and my eyes felt like pieces of glass sliding together as I focused. I could see clearer, and farther in the dark than I’d ever been able to before. I even saw Mrs. Couch’s black cat hiding in the tree across the street. But no parked van or surveillance. Maybe Jens was wrong? I cut around the block, through our neighbor’s backyard, then quickly climbed the side of the house to reach my window. I kept a coat hanger hidden under the sill so I could remove the inside latch and lift the window.

I grabbed my VR set and one of Todd’s new phones. I was halfway back out the window when I heard voices downstairs. Dad must be home. Then another, lighter voice flooded my chest with hope. I opened the bedroom door and crept downstairs, but quickly realized it wasn’t Megan, though the voice sounded familiar. I crept down the stairs, and peered into the living room using the reflective plane of glass over a Japanese print in the stairwell.

I could just make out my father and Ms. Vanessa Briggs sitting together on the couch. In the glow of the lamp I could see the half finished bottle of wine between them. She shifted, crossing her legs, revealing a sliver of thigh. My blood boiled. Megan was still in the hospital and Dad was here, having an intimate chat with my guidance counselor?

“I had no idea,” my dad said. He was gripping a phone and I zoomed in to see he was looking at the Basic Bree Facebook page. Shit, Vanessa must have shown it to him.

“All this bullying, the things she’s been dealing with. I should have been more understanding, more aware at least.”

“It’s not your fault,” Vanessa said, laying her hand across his shoulder and patting his back with her scarlet manicure. I wanted to slap her hand away, but instead ran back upstairs, seething. I’d deal with them later.

I ran back to David’s car and we drove in silence to Greg’s house. The lights were all off, so we passed the driveway and parked in the woods. The cabin was far enough away that there was no security, and not much risk of getting found.

“Look, there’s a cable,” I said, nodding at the wires leading up to the tree house.

“I guess there’d have to be, for the lights,” Amy said.

Once inside, I started porting my new phone, backing up all the data and my modded programs to the new one. I fell asleep waiting for the transfer to finish. A few hours later, I heard my mother’s voice, murmuring. I thought it was a dream at first until David nudged me awake. I’d curled up against his chest, with the phone under my arm.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling away quickly.

“It’s fine,” he said. “You didn’t drool that much.”

My eyes went wide, searching his shirt for a wet spot, but then he smirked and I punched his arm.

“Your modded version of Gloria was talking,” Brad said. “It was super creepy, it’s like she was talking in her sleep or something.”

“And that’s the new phone,” David said, nodding at the shiny new aPhone. The cracked, black screen of the older model was bricked, now that all my data and programs had been ported to the new device. I grabbed the phone and flicked through the messages. There were a few more from Jens, and another link to the private channel. The last one was sent twenty minutes ago.

I stretched and looked out the window. The treehouse was nearly surrounded by thick forest, and it was still early dawn. We hadn’t turned on the string of white Christmas tree lights, and apart from the blue glow of our devices, the small room was mostly dark.

“I guess there’s no time like the present,” I said, grabbing my VR helmet and gloves. The smooth black lining was soft and flexible against my skin, and the helmet and visor was much lighter than my old model.

I felt pressure on my hand and jerked away. I wasn’t even logged in yet so I was surprised I felt anything, but then I lifted my visor and realized it was David squeezing my fingers.

“Be careful,” he said. “I wish I could go with you.”

“I got this,” Brad said, pulling something out of his backpack. It looked like a broken visor, but I realized it was a portable VR lens made from one of the older goggle-style models. When he hooked it around his head with the strap, it looked like a high tech monocle.

“You look like a space pirate,” Amy said drowsily. She sat up, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

“Whatever,” Brad said, leaning back against the pillows and putting in his earbuds. “At least this way I can keep an eye on her.”

“Just one, apparently,” David said.

“It’s enough,” Brad said.

“Guys it’s fine, he’s a friend. Plus, it’s not like he can hurt me in VR.”

David sighed and pushed his hair back. It was messy after our night in the treefort; I realized I was used to seeing it carefully combed, with a rigid part down the side. It looked good like this. And it was kind of nice he was so worried about me. Charming, if also a little annoying. I was used to taking care of myself.

I nodded at Brad, then texted him the link to the VR session. I leaned back against the pillows in the corner and clicked the link. For a second, the VR googles pulsed quietly, warming up and flooding my vision with a soft beige light. I had the feeling of moving forward rapidly, and then I was flying. My pulse raced as I waved my hands in front of me. I was thousands of feet up, cutting through white, puffy clouds. I could see the sun on the horizon, and down below whole cities flew underneath, sparkling with lights in the early morning.

“Woah,” I said.

“Yeah,” Brad answered. I could hear him clearly, despite the wind rushing in my ears. “This is a pretty cool program. Are you running it? It feels like a welcome program, maybe something new Arcana is testing out. I bet you got a beta version on your aPhone.”

“Maybe,” I said. I flailed my arms uncomfortably. It was exhilarating, but also a little scary. Then suddenly, gravity kicked in. I screamed as we plummeted lower, and the ground came rushing up towards us. We fell through a lattice of streaming code, straight lines of numbers and digits randomly ticking, glowing with blue auras. We passed layers and layers of them, and each time the landscape below us shifted: first a small tropical island, then a deep canyon, then what looked like a Tibetan temple in the Himalayas. After the last layer, we were too low to the ground to see much of anything except rooftops and crowded streets. The signs and billboards were covered in some kind of Asian script. Cambodian, I guessed.

I hit the ground hard, sending up a plume of dust as I kneeled on the hard slab of broken tiles. I looked up and saw that we were in some kind of abandoned warehouse, with yellowed, cracked windows behind slats of iron bars. We were surrounded by about a dozen figures in black hoodies, and my skin crawled as I took in their faces: identical masks, that looked like the badly stitched faces of a voodoo doll, with X’s where the eyes should have been and a crooked smile sewn shut with glowing neon thread.

That’s when I realized my clothes were missing. I was wearing a simple bra and underwear. Brad was standing next to me in matching boxers.

“What the hell is this?” I asked. “Where’s Jens?”

I shivered and crossed my arms. I knew it wasn’t real, that this wasn’t my real body, but with the new headset everything was so vivid. I could see the pores on the back of my hand. I was used to VR being fantasy; where I could be my best self. Now I felt stripped and raw.

“Hold on,” one of the figures said. He raised some kind of handheld scanning device, flashing it over us, then removed the mask. Jens smiled sheepishly. He looked different than he did on Planet Plunder. Shorter, for one, and just, less heroic in general. He was wearing dark jeans and a black hoodie like the others. Also his skin was darker. In the game he was caramel, with bright green eyes. Here they were more sage, and his skin was brown like chocolate.

“Nice welcome, asshole,” Brad said.

“Necessary precautions,” Jens said.

“So we can’t see you guys are just a bunch of twelve-year-olds masturbating in your mom’s basement?”

“Something like that.” Jens smiled coldly, eyeing Brad’s bare stomach. I noticed his abs were ripped, and I wondered if they’d always been like that or if he’d been SelfXing.

“Why are we here?” I asked. “You said this was about our app, right?”

The figures around us shifted uncomfortably. There was a buzz in the air, like they were communicating silently. Probably a chatroom on a level outside my awareness. Jens tilted his head like he was listening, then took a step closer.

“We’ve been watching, with interest. First the video, the Halloween costumes, the big eyes. We’ve done a lot of research and analysis, but it’s mostly speculation. What you’ve been doing with the therabots, it’s revolutionary. We want in.”

“Of course you do,” Brad said. “You and everybody else. Todd Brieker already offered us a million bucks each. What are you offering?”

The buzzing grew louder, apparently this was news to them. Who were these guys anyway?

“Your lives,” Jens said. A chill ran down my spine.

“Is that a threat?” Brad asked, stepping forward, his biceps flexing.

“A warning,” Jens said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, putting my hand on Brad’s chest to hold him back.

“Also, now that we’ve cleared your security protocols and location scrambler, can we get some fucking clothes?”

Jens snapped his fingers, and we were wearing blue jeans and black T-shirts. I could live with that. He waved his hand and furniture filled the space out of nowhere. Long leather couches, rows of computer terminals and monitors. A few archaic video game machines lined the wall, along with vending machines.

“What, no minibar?” Brad joked.

“Let me ask you,” Jens said, ignoring him and settling into one of the couches. “Have you noticed anything weird since using the app. Anything, unexpected. Maybe even a little… paranormal?”

“Define weird,” I asked, crossing my arms. Brad took a seat across from Jens and I sat as well. Two of the other figures joined us, watching silently with their neon-stitches.

I refrained from glancing at Brad from the corner of my eye. Jens was a friend but I didn’t really know him. Better to play our cards close to our chest.

“Your app has been live for just over a day,” Jens said. “That’s barely enough time for people to get their hands on some therabots, whether stolen or recycled. There have already been three reported break-ins to medical centers. And yet, already some people on the dark web are reporting side effects. Nobody believed them at first, until they started disappearing.”

“Wait, what?”

“They totally ghosted. According to friends, they vanished, not just online, but offline too. It makes us think that whatever they were talking about, it’s real, and somebody doesn’t want it getting out.”

This time I couldn’t resist looking at Brad. He didn’t even flinch, but I knew he was as curious as I was. If this was true, we could use allies, and information. Whoever Jens’s friends were, at least they were talking to us.

“Our friend Greg,” I said. “He got picked up last night, after a basketball game.”

“We saw the video,” one of the masked hackers said. I was surprised at the pitch of her voice, realizing she was a girl.

“We thought they were government,” Brad said. “But then, we tried to follow, and things got violent.”

“But they came to the game before he manifested his abilities,” I said. “They couldn’t have known.”

“They were probably just after you – the app’s developers,” Jens said.

“But why?” I asked.

“This thing you’ve created, have you ever thought how dangerous it could be, in the wrong hands?”

I flinched, thinking about Megan.

“Not until recently,” I said.

“It’s a weapon,” the girl said. “Or it least, it could be. On the one hand, super-soldiers. More powerful, faster, meta-human. The military has been working on something like this for decades, and you practically gave it to them.”

“On the other hand,” Jens continued, “a plague. The therabots were meant to heal, but if they can be hacked, it means anybody who uses them is vulnerable. Do you know how it works?”

“How what works?” Brad asked.

“This extra stuff. I mean, your app is pretty limited. Health stuff, some cosmetic. Nothing that would let someone do what your friend did. He must have jumped twelve feet. That’s physically impossible, for a human. It’s doing more than augmenting. Was it some kind of special code?”

“We don’t know exactly,” I said. We hadn’t even talked about what had happened last night, with Brad and Amy. It was impossible. But I’d seen it with my own eyes. The eyes that apparently were capable of mind-control. I shook my head, then covered my face with my hands.

“I was just trying to help my sister,” I muttered. “We never planned on, all this.” I waved my hands at the space around us, even though I didn’t literally mean finding ourselves in some kind of Asian hacker’s den.

“It’s not your fault,” Jens said.

“Well, it kind of is,” the girl said. “But in a good way,” she added quickly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan. I think you’re awesome.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said, staring at the creepy mask covering her face. “Wish I could say the same about you.”

“Regardless, this is where we are. Kids are disappearing, after manifesting abilities that border on supernatural. We don’t know if it’s government, military or what. But whoever they are, they’re not following due process, which means we’re all at risk. Things are going to get bad, fast. It could mean a total breakdown of society.”

“That’s going a bit far, don’t you think?” Brad asked.

Jens shrugged. “Wouldn’t you rather be prepared?”

“So what do you want from us?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Jens said. “It’s what we want to offer. Security. Protection. Anonymity.”

“In exchange for our research,” Brad snorted.

“Your research is already online,” Jens said, leaning back, “and we’ve already taken your app apart and studied each line of code. It’s impressive but it’s nothing incredible. Somehow the combination of the app and the therabots, it’s producing something new, something we never even knew was possible.”

“It’s the stress,” I said, remembering what David had told me. “When you encounter a perceived threat, your hypothalamus prompts your adrenal glands to release a surge of hormones, including adrenaline and cortisol. If you already have hacked therabots in your system, they go into default mode and try to protect you. Depending on what you’ve been hacking, and where the bulk of the therabots are in your body, and the nature of the incident, they alter your DNA. At least, that’s our working theory,” I said.

“Incredible,” the girl nodded.

“Honestly, you wouldn’t believe what we’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours. The things I’ve seen, I can’t explain them.”

“Thank you for your candor,” Jens said. “I told the others you were cool.”

He smiled, and I felt my cheeks grow red as I noticed his dimples.

“So what now?” I asked.

“Prepare a bug-out bag. In case things get worse. In case you have to run.”

“Run, where?”

“If that day comes, I’ll send you details. We’ve been organizing an underground network of safe houses. Off the grid locations around the world, with supplies and secure connections.”

“You’ve been doing this?” Brad asked, raising his eyebrows. “But you’re just teenagers.”

“So are you,” Jens said. “And you’ve just changed the world.”

He stood abruptly and we said our goodbyes. Some of the other hackers left first. I hesitated, watching them as they left the channel with artistic flourishes in case I could recognize them later by their call signs. Some sprouted wings and flew through the ceiling. Others cast a glowing circle of dark magic, with symbols and runes, then sank into the floor like they were descending into hell. When most of the others had left, the girl removed her mask, winked at me, then burst into colorful rubber balls that bounced away in all directions.

“Stay safe,” Jens said.

I smiled, then disconnected the channel and pulled off my VR helmet. I blinked slowly, coming back into my real body. The sun had risen and the morning light was nearly blinding. David was peering out the window. Amy’s eyes looked frantic and she held a finger up to her lips.

“Shhhh…” she whispered.

“What?” I asked quietly. “What is it?”

David answered, without turning away from the window.

“Somebody’s out there.”

23

Something heavy was coming down the path. We could hear the leaves rustling in the still early morning. It sounded like a large animal, or a bear, or… Greg. He emerged from the bushes like a breaching whale, wiping dew-glazed spiderwebs from his face. He looked pale, and there were bags under his eyes, but otherwise he seemed fine.

“Holy shit, man!” Brad’s face lit up. He jumped to the rope ladder hanging next to the tree fort and swung down to the ground in series of fluid movements. The rest of us climbed down the usual route one at a time. David was scanning the forest uneasily.

“What happened?” he asked.

“My father, mostly.” Greg said sheepishly. “Those first guys, they weren’t FBI.”

“We figured, when the ran us off the road,” Amy said.

Greg’s eyes widened but I held a hand up.

“Story for another time,” I said. “Continue.”

“They blindfolded me in the van so I didn’t see much,” Greg said. “They parked, and I heard jet engines, so I figured we were at the old airport. Private jet or something. I knew I couldn’t get on the plane. As soon as I felt air on my face, I jumped. I heard wheels squealing, and shots fired. The plane took off without me. I got arrested, this time by the real FBI. But I had time to send a message to my dad and turn a tracker on, before they processed me and took my phone. He showed up with a team of lawyers and pulled some strings. It took all night, but they let me go.”

“They just let you go?” David asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“What were they going to hold me for, jumping too high?”

“What about the app?” Brad asked.

“They shut it down,” Greg said, hanging his head. “I had no choice but to tell them. I mean, not about you guys, but the paper trail. I tried to hide it and mask the IP, and I used offshore accounts, fake names, everything. They issued an injunction, forcing Arcana to pull it from the aStore.”

“And Todd actually complied? The app must be making lots of money.”

“They claimed it was plagiarism, fraud. They shut down the account. Unfortunately, they also froze the payout.”

“Ah, now that sounds more like Todd. So he plays ball with the government and he gets to keep our money?”

“Afraid so,” Greg said. “Also, I’m just out on bail. They set a hearing for two weeks. Honestly they have no idea what’s going on. I don’t even know how they knew to come after me.”

“We’re just glad you’re safe,” I said, reaching out and touching his arm. He seemed even taller than I remembered.

“What about you though?” he asked. “When I got home I tried to call or message, nobody was answering. I figured you might be laying low here, but why? What happened?”

“We went after you,” Amy said. “But the car flipped and hit a tree. Honestly, we should have died.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Brad said, his face tense, his eyes hard and serious. “I heard the car crumpling, things were moving in slow motion. We just, survived somehow.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” I scoffed, crossing my arms. We still hadn’t talked about what happened last night and I was tired of being patient.

“Brad saved me,” Amy said quietly. “I felt his arm across my waist.” She lifted her shirt and showed off an ugly purple bruise.

“Yeah but then the car caught fire,” Brad said. “I thought we were done for, for sure. But Amy— fuck, man, I don’t even know. It was like she channeled the fire and kept it away from us.”

“We saw the car explode,” I said. “I thought you were dead. Then Brad ripped a hole in the sports car and lifted Amy out. You should have seen him, he was huge, almost as big as the vehicle. And Amy…”

“Amy was on fire,” David continued. “Or, she was fire. It was coming from her fingertips, from her eyes, she was an inferno. Then she flipped a switch it and it was gone, like she was waving out a match.”

“I don’t remember it,” Amy said. “Not like that. I just, felt the heat, saw the glow. I remember Brad pulling me to safety and setting me on the ground, and seeing you two.”

“Brad I get,” I said, pointing at his shoulders. “He’s been upstacking his muscles, building body mass, upper body strength. When threatened, the bots in that area went haywire and he hulked out. But Amy? I mean, what the hell – how is that even possible?”

“Inspiration,” David said. “Amy’s been trying to hack creativity. Right?”

Amy flinched, but she nodded.

“Nobody knows how creativity works, but it’s some kind of extra-sensory perception. An openness to big ideas, to the zeitgeist. Some people compare it to divine fury; traditional inspiration refers to the brain as being on fire. My guess is, somehow she destabilized her own atomic structure. Her aura extended several feet out. Rapid heat or cooling, changed temperature – it’s just a change in atomic vibration.”

“That’s impossible,” I said.

“Yes,” David said, adjusting his glasses. “But I happened. That’s the most logical guess I can give as to why.”

“So now what?” Amy asked. “If they let Greg go, does that mean we’re safe?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Even if the government is standing down for now, we’ve got the world’s most desirable tech and nowhere to show it off.”

“It’s all over the news this morning,” Brad said, scrolling through his feed. “The app being shut down, the videos of you, and Greg now too. Millions of views. You’re internet famous.”

“But are we outlaws or prodigies?” I asked.

“The jury is still out,” Brad said.

“The way I see it, we’ve got two choices,” David said. “One, we can disappear. Give up everything, hand over our files, scrub the internet as much as possible, let this all blow over. We accept whatever deal we can to stay out of trouble, and we go back to being normal high school kids.”

“And option two?” Brad asked.

“We go all-in. Claim the app publicly. All of us. Show what we can do. Then we partner with whoever can protect us and our research.”

“You’re not talking about Todd, are you?”

“If the deal is on the table,” Amy asked.

“After what he did to my sister?” I asked.

“We can’t prove he did that,” David said. “It seems extreme, even for him.”

“I’m not taking a deal with the devil just to save my own ass.”

“This isn’t all about you,” Amy sniped.

“Fine then, we take another deal. This is potentially worth billions. We take jobs, deals, whatever. We merge with the establishment, the government, the military – whoever offers us the best terms.”

“We sell out,” Brad said, crossing his arms.

“According to your hacker friends,” David said, “the alternative is to go on the run and live as refugees. Always looking over our shoulders. Unable to continue our work or research, never safe. Does that sound like fun to anyone?”

I frowned but David had a point. There was no way I was leaving Dad and Megan. There was a moment as we looked around the circle. The sun was up now and birds were chirping. Finally we agreed. None of us were ready to become fugitives.

“Okay,” Greg said finally. “What’s first?”

“First,” Brad said, his stomach rumbling, “we eat breakfast.”

***

We entered school like a pack of wolves. People were definitely staring this time, and not furtively. They pulled out cell phones and recorded our passing like we were a rare endangered species.

Greg’s teammates greeted him with hoots and hugs for winning the game last night, but I could see a layer of fear in their eyes, like they weren’t quite sure who he was anymore.

We went straight to Mr. Deckler’s office. He stood up when we piled into the room.

“We’ve thought about your offer,” David said. “And we’ll be participating in the science fair after school today.”

“You don’t call the shots here,” Mr. Deckler said, raising his finger.

“The school is already under scrutiny,” David said. “I have a feeling the turnout this year is going to be particularly impressive. You think they’re coming all this way to see some lame science fair projects? What will you do when the star attraction is missing from the lineup?”

Mr. Deckler paled for a second, but recovered quickly.

“We don’t need any more bad press at this school,” he glowered. “I’ve already got the feds breathing down my neck after that little stunt you pulled. I don’t care if a few big-rollers are disappointed. This is my school and I’m going to run it the way I see fit.”

Mr. Deckler’s neck was turning red and he raised his voice.

“Now get the hell out of my office!”

I stepped in front of David and stared him down, locking eye contact until I could feel him respond. It felt like shifting the last piece of a puzzle into place, or magnets snapping together.

I took a deep breath and watched as Mr. Deckler’s chest rose and fell in step with mine.

“We will be participating today,” I said slowly. “You’re going to make sure we get the biggest table, in the center of the display row, and you’re going to require the whole school to attend. If anyone asks, we’re your star pupils, and you’re proud of our research, and you support us 100%.”

Mr. Deckler’s eyes unfocused and a tremor ran through him.

Then he repeated numbly, “biggest table, everyone attends, support.”

I nodded, then broke eye contact. He shook his head, blinking, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Then he looked up and it was like he was noticing us for the first time.

“Oh hey there,” he said. “Sorry I must have wandered off for a minute. See you kids at the science fair this afternoon, really excited to see what you’ve been working on, I heard it’s epic!”

He smiled, then sat down again.

“You literally have no idea,” Amy grinned.

We went to about half our classes, but otherwise hung out in the science lab preparing and keeping tabs on the internet chatter. There was a huge backlash from the removal of SelfX. Some people thought it was a government conspiracy to keep people enslaved to the therabot program. A few lucky souls had used our hacked program to completely heal terminal illnesses before the app disappeared, and were speaking out on talk shows and Medium posts. There was the odd whisper about bizarre side-effects and a few posts about missing kids, but they were buried pretty deep in Reddit subforums.

Greg’s jump had been turned into a meme and spawned a few dozen YouTube videos. It wasn’t public knowledge that he was connected with the app yet, though people were putting it together – I was the face of the movement apparently, after Melissa outed me on local TV, and everyone assumed Greg had somehow used SelfX to alter his jump. An online controversy was raging about whether athletes should have to be tested for bots before competing because it gave them an unfair advantage. NBA players were being interviewed about how a ten-foot jumper would change the game.

After third period, the mood changed; people were no longer staring at me in the halls. Instead, people were pushing towards the front entrance, where a large crowd was standing with their phones out. On my tip-toes I could just see a man getting out of an SUV in a dark suit. When he took off his sunglasses I recognized him. Todd Brieker was here, in the flesh. At my high school. It was so surreal, I forgot to move or even blink. I just stood there stupidly as the crowds parted to let him pass, until he was standing right in front of me.

“Miss Harmond,” he nodded curtly. He looked different in person. More real, somehow, or maybe it was my enhanced vision that zeroed in on his flaws. I could tell he’d nicked himself shaving this morning. And he had one white hair on the edge of his ear. Practically invisible, but it stood out to me against the light behind him. I wanted to yell at him, to accuse him of sabotaging our project and blinding my sister, but I didn’t have any proof, and I was still too star-struck. All I could think was Todd Brieker knows my name.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered.

“It’s no secret I enjoy seeking out talent at high school science fairs.”

“Yeah so you can steal people’s ideas before they know any better,” Brad said, turning up suddenly at my side. David was just behind him with his arms crossed. They must have been drawn to the crowd like I was.

“I believe I made you quite the fair offer, which you turned down. In this case,” Todd continued, “I’ve been invited as a guest judge. I’m very excited to see what you have for us today.” He grinned, waving at the gathered students, before being led towards the main office by Mr. Deckler and two large men in suits that were probably his personal security.

“Shit,” Brad said. “What are the chances he votes against us out of spite?”

“It doesn’t really matter if we win,” David said. “The results will speak for themselves.”

“Let’s hope,” I said. My stomach was in knots, and yet traitorously giddy from being on the radar of the founder of Arcana. Even though I hated him, I’d spent my life idolizing him. Child prodigy, dropped out of college to start a tech firm, now one of the youngest billionaires in history.

The rest of the day was a joke; nobody could concentrate on education with Todd Brieker on the premises. Only half the students even went to class, the others were milling around the halls, socializing on the back lawn or outside the cafeteria, which had been roped off for the science fair. Our team had to get special passes from Mr. Leister just to get inside. Arcana had posted extra security at each entrance, who made the school’s normal security team seem lame in comparison.

And then there were the other visitors: kids from other high schools, even a few from out of state, along with parents, grandmothers, health care professionals. My breath hitched when I saw Megan through the crowd holding hands with my dad. The white bandages around her eyes had been replaced by a slim white visor with three small holes in the center. She smiled in my direction, and I rushed to her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thank God, they let you out?” I looked up at my Dad, and realized we hadn’t spoken in days.

“Temporarily,” Dr. Jenkins said, appearing behind my father. I hadn’t noticed him at first without his white lab jacket, he just looked like someone’s dad. “But not without an escort.” He nodded down the hall, where Dr. Tedd Kastler was sweeping down the hall followed by a contingent of reporters and a team of what looked like government officials.

“The therabots healed most of the damage,” Megan said, “and they’d run their tests a dozen times. I might have thrown a fit and threatened to rip out all their fancy equipment if they didn’t let me come.”

“Nice,” I said, punching her on the shoulder. Then I waved my hand in front of her visor, and exhaled sharply when she grabbed my hand.

“You can see?” I choked, a tear running down my cheek.

“Sort of,” she said. “Before, it was just lights and darks, shadows and shapes. Then Todd brought this over.”

“Dr. Kastler still thinks the therabots should be able to undo the damage and restore her sight. He’d love to turn the story around. However, in the meantime, Todd said he’d been working on this special project and he wanted Megan to try it out.”

“It scans the electromagnetic spectrum,” my dad said, “creating visual input, and transmits it into the brain of the wearer via optic nerve cables.”

“Do you even know what all that means?” I asked, smiling.

“Not exactly,” he said sheepishly.

“I can’t see everything,” Megan said, “and it’s fuzzy. But still, it’s something.”

“It sure is,” I said. “You look like a cyborg.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, looking at my dad.

“Me too,” he said. Sometime soon we’d have to talk, about everything, but for now there was too much going on. More and more people were flooding into the school and around the school grounds. Some of them had signs and posters, with slogans like my body my choice, the next stage in human evolution, and implants are life. I even saw someone wearing a T-shirt with my face on it. Apparently I’d become the face of body modification.

David grabbed my elbow and nodded towards the cafeteria doors.

“I have to go setup,” I said, though I hated tearing myself away from Megan. “I’ll see you inside. Maybe we can go for ice-cream afterwards.”

Once inside, we met up with the others at our table, which was in a prominent position near the front stage. Chairs had been set up for the guest judges. David had set up most of the display; we had screenshots of our app blown up into posters and a working model on an aPad – the original version, not the one that had been taken off the store. David meanwhile had binders full of notes and research, and the original tests and the mice, which surprisingly were still healthy and active. We’d given them names to correspond with their looks and styles. It was like we’d invented whole new species. We decided not to show actual human examples, so we could claim that human use was purely theoretical at this stage, even though everyone knew the real app was already out there and being used by people. We wanted the judges to focus on the research, not the moral implications of genetic hacking.

Still, just in case they asked, David had another folder he’d compiled from the anonymous users in our beta program, along with hundreds of comments from app users before it had been removed from the store. Other groups had finished setting up and were milling around looking at the other projects. Brad kept them at bay, while Amy and I took a lap around the room to check out the competition.

A few of the projects were impressive, but most weren’t. The judges included Todd Brieker, woman scientist, and Mr. Leister. When the doors opened, the hall filled quickly with the crowds that had been waiting outside. A few people, I could tell, had been using a modded version of our app. Alien features, brightly hair color, and some were even wearing full costumes to draw more attention to their unique look. They stood out from the parents and regular kids in normal clothes. But I was more distracted by the military uniforms. There were men in suits, shifting uneasily in the crowds, watching the doors. But there were also full green uniforms, with badges and pins and everything. I think I saw a four-star general.

I saw Todd Brieker chatting with Vanessa Briggs. She was whispering something. He leaned his ear towards her, then his eyes caught mine. I wondered how they knew each other. David was repeating his spiel and presentation for a group of onlookers. We’d given the mice a double dose of therabots so the changes would appear more quickly. Gasps came from the crowd as the mice changed their appearance in real-time. Brad and Greg fielded questions. Amy showed off a version of her app on a large screen.

I was standing off a bit to the side, watching the fair. I didn’t want to take the spotlight, and I hated speaking in public anyway. Plus, even though I was the recognizable face of SelfX, we’d agreed I had too much heat on me after Melissa called me out on TV. We wanted to keep people focused on the math and science, not the controversy or scandal. Still, just my presence let everyone know, despite our protests, that our app had already been tested on humans.

“It’s very impressive,” a woman nodded towards the presentation. I hadn’t seen her approach but she was standing at my elbow in a navy suit, with flawless skin and shiny black hair.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Especially, shall we say, the more unexpected genetic changes in teenage users. Almost miraculous, wouldn’t you agree?”

She kept her gaze steady, but I turned towards her this time and studied her more closely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“It’s no use denying it now,” she said. “After Greg’s basketball performance. And he’s not the only one, you know. SelfX seems to do more than fix cellular deficiencies; it can also rewrite DNA in surprisingly novel ways.”

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I’m Vickie. Vickie Chung,” she handed me a white business card, with her name and details. “I represent a Chinese buyer. I think you’ll soon come to find that the United States is a very restricted place to conduct research. If you haven’t been already, I expect you’ll get shut down, blacklisted, shunned from the scientific community. We’d like your team to move to China, where you can continue your research. Fully funded of course, I’m authorized to make a starting offer of ten million dollars.”

Just then the front doors burst open. Dr. Tedd Kastler stormed down the center aisle with at least twelve aides behind him, wearing suits. I could see the bulge of guns under their dark coats.

“Seize it all!” he shouted. “By authorization of the United States Government, I’m confiscating all of this so called-research.”

“Like hell you are,” Brad stepped forward, crossing his arms. He clenched his fists and his muscles rippled. He wasn’t nearly as big as he’d been last night, but he was still impressively chiseled. David and Greg stood on either side of him, blocking our table. The rest of the auditorium was staring at the commotion.

Two of the men stepped forward, flashing portable batons I’d seen riot police use on unruly protesters. A woman with gray hair jumped in their way and stuck a finger in Tedd’s face. She was wearing a T-shirt with the SelfX logo on it. I wondered where she’d gotten it.

“These kids saved my husband’s life,” she said. “Your therabots helped at first, until our insurance wouldn’t pay the claim – we had to choose between a limited range of services and couldn’t afford everything. We were desperate, he was on his deathbed, then we downloaded the app. Today, he’s up and walking. It’s a miracle.” She turned towards me and squeezed me into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Several other adults came forward as well, speaking over each other with their own stories. Then half the basketball team joined, forming a row protecting Greg.

“Get them out of the way!” Kastler shouted. “Arrest them if you have to. That’s stolen technology. You can all be charged with espionage and treason.”

“They’re in it together,” the woman turned back, shouting over the crowd. “The NHTC and Arcana. The app was gone from the store today. They want to keep us sick and poor, they want to control us.”

The crowd murmured and shifted. The agents looked around uneasily. There were hundreds of people in the auditorium. Two of the guards shoved the woman out of the way. Brad pushed them back, so hard they stumbled into another display, knocking it over. One of them reached into his coat for his gun.

“That’s enough,” a sharp voice cut through the commotion. It was the general I’d seen earlier. He strode between us, glaring at the men in suits.

“Let the kids do their thing,” he said quietly. “We can do this later, when there are less people around.”

Then he turned to Brad, and tapped his shoulder. “Very impressive, Son,” he said. “Have you thought about a career in the military? We could use more soldiers like you.”

The tension faded as the men backed away towards the walls. Ted Kastler frowned and folded his arms. “You don’t have any authority here,” he said to the general. “The therabots are my program. These kids stole my life’s work and hacked it. It’s dangerous technology. It has to be stopped.”

“Yes,” the general said with a smirk. “It is dangerous. Which is why the president sent me to keep an eye on you and make sure it doesn’t get into the wrong hands.” His eyes lingered for a long time over the Chinese woman. “You can call him, if you’d like.”

“Will the judges please come up to the stage?” Mr. Deckler was standing on the stage next to Mr. Leister, trying his best to look authoritative. Behind him were three chairs and a large screen.

The crowd cheered as Todd Brieker took the stage. The judges conferred with each other, flipping through notes on their clipboards, before nodding in agreement. Todd looked up and caught my eye, he smirked. I wondered if he’d voted for or against us.

“This is my first time judging in Sequim, and I must say I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the quality of projects. Please, before we begin, let’s have a round of applause for all the participants. You should all feel proud.”

After the clapping died down, Todd announced the third-place winner, and then the second. I watched as our classmates went forward to claim their prizes. David reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently. I didn’t pull away.

“As you know,” Todd continued, “each year I offer a coveted internship to the team of high school students with the most impressive new use of technology. This year’s project has caused quite a stir, with a novel use of technology that could revolutionize what it means to be human. The first-place winner of this year’s science fair, who will also be getting an exclusive internship offer with my team at Arcana, is the SelfX app.”

There were cheers as David and I went up together on stage. Mr. Leister handed us a large red ribbon with #1 printed on it. People held up their phones and we posed for pictures, holding our award and shaking hands with Todd Brieker. When it was my turn, he pulled me in close and whispered in my ear.

“Now everyone knows SelfX is mine. Whether or not you join Arcana, we’ll relaunch the app with our own developers. My offer still stands, but I’m not a patient man. Don’t keep me waiting.”

The applause died down and we went back into the audience.

“What did he say to you?” David asked.

“Apparently our victory came with strings,” I said when we rejoined the others.

“We’ve been seen in public with Brieker,” David nodded. “He offered us an internship. Nobody will question it if he steals our program and republishes it for Arcana.”

“So we take the money, right?” Amy said.

“Maybe,” I said. I was tired of fighting. Vanessa Briggs was right, this thing was getting too big, too fast. “I did get a higher offer from the Chinese, and the military seems interested as well.”

“We could probably start a bidding war,” David said. “The question is, who would we rather have control over this technology? China, Arcana or the US Military?”

“Is there a door number four?” Brad asked.

“Whatever, for now, nobody’s arresting us or trying to kill us,” I said. “Can we just enjoy the win? We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”

Gasps from the crowd made us turn around, as the screen behind the stage changed to a pattern of laughing skull gifs. They melted and dripped down the screen, burning away to reveal a podium and a flag – the President of the United States was about to speak. A beeping red sign on the bottom left flashed LIVE ADDRESS.

I couldn’t hear his words or the speech he was reading, but I could tell by his haggard expression that it was serious. Megan appeared at my side like a ghost, tugging at my arm.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You killed him,” she said, pointing towards the screen. My heart pounded in my chest. I watched in terror as a protestor near the front flashed a sign that said, “Pay to live. Live to pay. #SelfX.”

The president frowned at her and lifted his arm, but then stumbled. I could tell by his open mouth that he was screaming. I couldn’t hear it, but I felt it in my bones. He lifted his hands to cradle his face as his skin melted off. His eyes went first, dripping out of their sockets like runny eggs. Then his nose and lips pooled around his chest, dripping through his outstretched fingers. He pointed, his head now a gleaming skull, just before collapsing, and the camera panned towards a girl in the audience with bright pink hair. Someone who looked a lot like me.

Author’s Note

Thanks for reading Selfie! I started this book in my parent’s basement and finished it in a French chateau. I love this story because of all the real-life research I could include: most of this technology is already out there. If you want to keep reading book two in this series, plus write a review of book one so I can see you liked it.

I’m working on half a dozen series and want to make sure I’m finishing the stories you like most. You can sign up for a free starter library and get 10 free stories when you join my email list at www.urbanepics.com.

Table of Contents

- Brianna Harmond
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