“WAKE UP!” I jump at the loud, fuming voice vibrating through my ears before my eyes spring open and a man’s scheming, scrunched-up face meets mine. I turn away from his stale breath. “So the pathetic ‘Real Worlder’ had the audacity to come back, eh?” Me? Real Worlder? Who? Wait—where am I? What’s happened to my brain? Who is this nightmarishly familiar man? He sniffs the air and leans over to poke the woman beside me. “Wrinkly Bones One, you are a lazy woman, aren’t you!” He turns to a boy in pre-Surge clothes, with wings, and squeezes his shoulder. The boy winces. “Aren’t you going to defend your stupid granny, Aut-Pof—”
“I’m no granny, A’!” calls the woman. “And don’t talk to my Jack like that.”
Oh no. I do know him. ALDON. The Conqip leader lets out a thunderous laugh and drags the boy over by his wing. “The mute is Moojag, not your Jack. Don’t you recognise his absurd little wings? Weirdo. Like grandmother, like grandson.”
Moojag? My brother—Monzi! Everything feels so familiar, but I can’t string my thoughts together to make any sense of them. “Stop it,” I mutter, as Aldon waltzes over. “Leave him alone.”
“Stupid as your brother, I see.” Aldon puts his hand in his jacket pocket and presents a small pill. Perfectly round and blue with a groove down the middle. “You just need a memory pill, don’t you?”
Moojag tries to speak, but not a single word comes out of his mouth. He grabs Aldon’s arm and the pill drops straight into my hand. If I eat this, maybe I’ll think clearly again and remember what I’m doing here. There’s something I’m supposed to do—lots of things. I pop the pill into my mouth and try swallowing, but it feels like there’s a huge shell jammed in my throat. I choke, coughing it right out into the livid man’s hand. He shoves it straight back into my mouth and hands me a glass of water. I drink, but the pill still won’t go down. A little more, but it just floats around the roof of my mouth. I take another gulp as the man tips up the glass. The water pours fast down my throat, and finally the pill, along with the last drop. I wipe my mouth while Aldon turns to Moojag. “To Stikleby Hall. NOW.” They leave the room and the door slams closed behind them.
“You have lovely eyes,” says the smiley-faced woman lying beside me. “An angel.” She’s too kind. “When did you come, dear? Staying with us long?”
“That’s your granddaughter,” says another woman in the room.
“Nema,” says a third one, holding a shell. A Spondylux! In front of us, a floating holograph of a girl and boy standing beside a woman who looks a lot like the one in my bed, only younger.
It’s my friends, “Izzy and Adam! And...” I look back round at the woman, with a questioning stare. “Gran?”
She smiles and nods back. “Yes! What are you doing here, Nema?” Her scaly, glistening silver hand takes mine.
I sigh. “I don’t know, but you’re wearing my PIE skin.”
“Ah, yes. Not entirely sure why. Could it have something to do with those purple ribbons in the cupboard?”
The other two string up some violet strips. They’re wearing Adam and Izzy’s PIEs! “We’re their grannies,” says the shorter one with freckles.
“That’s my smart, handsome grandson,” says the taller one with short frizzy hair, pointing to the holograph of Adam.
“Sophia and Stella, dear. You remember them?” I nod, but my mind’s gone blank.
“You were out for a good half hour. We just got a whatsnapchatinstatwitface back from the kids,” says Sophia. “Apparently, you’re here to save a ‘Moojag’ and some ‘Pofs’?”
Right. But... oh no, what’s happening to... “My head—” I mutter, peering at Gran..
“Rest up, dear,” says Sophia, stroking my hair as I close my eyes. “It’s the MP. It makes you drowsy, you see.”
I really need to stay awake, though. Feels weird, having to try so hard not to sleep. For once, I actually can’t think of a single thing.
“Remember the time we went for supplies, before the Surge,” says Gran. I shake my head. “You were only small, but I took you along with me. I wore a PIE much like this one, and you had your own little toddler-sized version. The first e-skins to receive the IF function.” Another thing Dad forgot to tell us about? “Jack was sworn to secrecy, of course. For all its benefits, the IF could cause all manner of trouble. You see, it completely changes your skin.”
“Like changing to yellow when we’ve run out of energy?” I ask. “Or when it puffs up into soft pillows, or super tough ridges to protect us?” Hey, I seem to remember everything about PIE!
“Not the functions that keep you healthy and safe,” she says. “Something even more genius. It mimics environments, just like the glorious octopus, camouflaging to keep itself hidden and safe from harmful predators. And for us humans, safe from the last of the dangerous Fake Worlders!” My eyes are struggling to stay open. “Remember going into the store together? You perched on my shoulders, the pair of us completely invisible! What a team we made. Just throwing everything straight into our backpacks, not the silly SmartCart, and without scanning a single QR code…”
“Stealing, Gran?” I whisper loudly in her ear.
“Nothing of the sort! Just a little experiment. We donated everything to the shelter, of course. But you couldn’t tolerate the drill of the alarms, so we didn’t try that again. We drove those shopping sensors crazy,” she adds with a chuckle. “I’m sure the poor robot working the cameras couldn’t believe its digital eyes. By the time a human turned up, they could only watch as our bags flew magically up over Highgate River, off into the distance and out of sight.”
The door clicks open and a man dressed in a striped pre-Surge suit walks in. “It’s time to get those missed Gajooms.”
“Isaac, my boy, is that you?” asks Stella. “I simply adore legumes, darling. Is it luncheon already?”
“It’s just me, Biermont,” says the man. He nods to them and walks over to me. “And that’s Gajooms, not legumes,” he adds, glancing back. “Moojag said you got the antidote strips?” Gran grins, pointing to the open wardrobe full of purple strips. “Ah, yes, very good,” he says, placing his hands on our shoulders. He seems to know who I am. He’s not like the other men, though. “The unwrapped Gajooms are on their way back to the factory. Moojag will meet you there in ten.”
“MP, though,” calls Stella, brow raised and pointing at me. “Fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh dear,” says the man, inspecting my eyes and waving his hand in front of my face. “I’m Biermont, remember—the good Conqip?” I hear his words and want to trust them, but something feels off.
“Is it eggs?” asks Sophia, leaping out of her bed and perching on the end of ours.
“This guy wants to get sticks and strips,” says Gran.
“Does he indeed?” exclaims Stella, crossing their arms. “Where’s my Isaac disappeared to now? He promised me a proper lunch. He’s a Big Con, you know…”
I try sitting up but my arms have gone totally limp. I shake my head. Gran leaps over me, out of bed, and declares, “We’ve got PIEs now. We’ll take her.” I roll over, curling up like a hedgehog, and pull the bed cover over my head. But a corner of it lifts back up and a wrinkly face zooms in, making me jump. Again. “Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty.”
What’s that strange sound now? Like something tacky peeling away from the floor. And a sweet liquorice scent wafting in through the open door. It shoots straight up my nose before I fall straight back to sl…