Chapter Seventeen

September 20X6, Stanford

The buzzing in my spine begins instantly and warmth blooms in my chest. He’s a thief and a liar. Irritated by my physical reaction to him—that I have to remind my insubordinate body of these truths—I bite my cheek and sink in my seat, hoping he recognizes me. Better stay on your toes, Garrett.

“This just got interesting,” Cara/Chloe says under her breath, but loud enough for one of the boys at our table to hear. He gives her side-eye, and she leans toward him. “He’s pretty hot,” she explains, louder so the whole table hears this time.

I flush and Bix/Sophia giggles. The guy grimaces like he’s disappointed he doesn’t stand a chance with Cara/Chloe compared to Beau.

Beau/Garrett’s gaze flickers past me without any indication he knows me. My stomach dips but my disappointment is short lived. He’ll have to pay attention to me soon enough. I’ll make sure of it.

“Beau is our senior intern and your dorm resident and mentor. Any questions you have about your living quarters, meal plans, things like that, should be directed to him.” Dr. Schilling steps aside, giving Beau/Garrett the floor.

“Hey everyone.” Beau/Garrett salutes us with a jolly wave before he shoves his hands in his lab coat pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I’ve been interning here all summer and I’m around for anything and everything. If you want to know which drone delivers the best pizza or if you’re feeling homesick—whatever you need—talk to me.”

What if I want to know where you’re hiding my tape?

I stare him down, willing him to look at me.

But he pays me no mind. Instead, with a charming grin, he takes a seat next to Nicki, so she sits between him and Nash.

“Please take him up on anything you need. Beau’s a real treasure.” Dr. Schilling beams at him. “And now, I’d like to introduce a very special guest. This is a new program for us—it’s the first time we’ve allowed interns into these specific labs—and it has all been made possible through a corporate sponsorship from Simon Technologies. You’ll want your Life Streams on to record this moment, but please set them to private as the information being shared is top secret.”

Beau/Garrett’s back is to me and I watch the back of his head as Dr. Schilling talks, waiting for him to peek at me over his shoulder. But his attention stays concentrated on the front of the room. Unfortunately.

Dr. Schilling gives us a moment to check that our Life Streams are not feeding live to the Networks. I tap out s-o-r-r-y to Stewart, before I blink my Network feed to private, effectively disconnecting his view of the party. He won’t be able to see or hear what is going on, but we can still communicate through Morse code.

Once she’s satisfied we’ve shut off our feeds and we’re “alone,” Dr Schilling nods. “Now, it’s my great pleasure to introduce the CEO of Simon Technologies, James Simon himself.”

The blood drains from my cheeks and the room spins as possibilities collide in my mind. Will he recognize me as Ella? As the girl who robbed his Menlo Park house six months ago? As Nicki’s friend? We’ve never met in person, and I’m disguised as Kerri, but he could know Betsy, my cover identity when I robbed him, from Nicki’s Network feed. Or, worse, he could remember me as Ella, as Noah Karman and Tiana Santos’s daughter.

Simon walks out from behind the screen. His short blond hair is the same color as Nicki’s, but that’s the only similarity. His face is all angles, and his steely eyes are like two silver bullets. He wears black pants and a gray zip-front hoodie. The same wardrobe that was in his closet. He’s efficient, wears the same thing every day. That way he doesn’t have to think about it. The information comes to me in a rush.

“I’m happy to welcome all of you.” His voice exudes zero joy. “There was quite a competition to enter into this program. Laborers from all over the world applied, but you were chosen because of your unusual DNA. Each of you is a gem and we hope that you’ll bring your unique gifts to our laboratories.” He stands rigid, his arms hanging at his sides like he’s a robot and hasn’t been programmed to use them as his gaze traverses the room, pausing to linger on each of us “gems.”

“What we’re actually studying here is Free Will. We’re trying to prove—or disprove—its existence in the brain, and you will be undergoing a series of tests that will hopefully substantiate our theories.” His eyes land on me.

I flinch, like he’s just slapped me. “Excuse me.” I can’t help it. I raise my hand. “I was under the impression we were here to do research, not be the subject of research,” I say in Kerri’s tones.

There is a collective sucking in of breath and everyone turns to face me. My shoulders tighten under the weight of their penetrating stares—including Beau/Garrett’s. I wonder if he recognizes me yet. But I don’t acknowledge him. I keep my gaze trained on Simon.

“You’ll do your fair share of research, too.” Simon smiles, though no warmth travels up his face. “But everyone here must undergo rigorous testing first. We need to understand your biases before we can trust your research. As Laborers, you don’t have many opportunities, and I suggest you take this one.” His words are short, clipped.

A threat.

“You are, of course, free to leave if you like. If you believe any of your decisions are ‘free,’ that is.” He laughs a hollow laugh. “Any of you. No questions asked.” He narrows his beady eyes, scanning the faces in the room, daring us to move. “Pick up your things right now and go.”

My heart pounds in time with seconds that tick to a minute. Nobody budges.

“Good.” He nods, seeming convinced we’re all staying. “In that case, be prepared to have your brain scanned. The scans will be used to reveal which team you’re on.”

“Team?” I blurt. A cold weight settles in my stomach, and I look wildly about to see if anyone else is freaking out about being scanned. Somehow, they aren’t.

“Yes.” Simon presses his skinny lips together, forming a taut line. “Thank you for asking… Your name?”

“Kerri.” My voice hitches and I involuntarily blush. Peeking at Beau/Garrett, I find him watching me again, though everyone else is, too, so it probably doesn’t mean much.

He imperceptibly arches an eyebrow, jackknifing my heart—he knows—and I snap my attention back to Simon.

“We find, Kerri, that competition yields the most accurate results. When research teams have something to fight for, they do their best to prove their point. They pull out all the stops, go to great lengths to win, to be right, and it gives way to superior discussions and ultimately discoveries.” Simon leans on the edge of Nicki’s table, near a woman with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun who sits to the left of Nash, and I fight to concentrate on Simon, to keep from succumbing to the gravity tugging my eyeballs toward Beau/Garrett.

“We have two teams in our lab. One is led by Dr. Schilling, who believes free will does not exist.” Simon gestures to where Dr. Schilling stands off to the side of the screen. “Her theory is that brains are merely a complicated series of systems run by algorithms, that consciousness is a database in the brain, a program that gives the illusion of free will and can be transferred by exactly copying the brain. Beau is the head research assistant for that group.” He motions toward Beau/Garrett.

I know which team Cara/Chloe should be on…for more reasons than proximity to Garrett.

“The other team is led by Dr. Nasif.” Simon pats the petite woman with the dark hair sitting next to Nash on the shoulder. “She believes free will does exist, that consciousness is some essence that lives inside the brain that can’t be exactly replicated or manufactured. She isn’t sure we can code things like intuition.”

The word “intuition” hits me like a storm. Realizing how fascinating she might find my brain, I swallow, hard.

“She is assisted by my protégé, Eric.” Simon looks to Nash and for the first time a genuine smile lights his face.

At the mention of his name Eric/Nash stands and waves at everyone.

Protégé? It’s not possible for my eyebrows to go any higher.

Eric/Nash smiles, his ocean-blue eyes crinkling at the corners before he retakes his seat, and I marvel at how he hasn’t changed. Buff? Check. Blond? Check. Simon-clone? Check.

I never noticed it before, but he bears an uncanny resemblance to Simon. Maybe it’s the shrewdness in his eyes that’s new to me, but Simon is clearly grooming him for something. Allard swears he’s on our side, that he’s going to protect me. But I can’t make myself believe it. My nerve endings are on fire, signaling run.

“This is why brain scans to understand your biases are so important,” Simon concludes. “We have to know which side of free will you fall on in order to best place you on a team.” His eyes bore into me. “Understood?”

Not wanting to draw any more attention to myself, I keep my mouth shut and nod.

“Excellent. Now, that’s enough business for tonight.” He stands and clasps his hands in front of his stomach with a clap. “Let’s all relax. Eat up, drink up, and get to know each other. Please. Enjoy. We’re excited to have you here.”

He dismisses us and everyone gets up out of their seats.

“Do you guys live in ‘West Flo,’ too?” Cara/Chloe asks the boy interns who form a circle nearby, trying to wedge herself into their group. “We’re in Paloma.”

“Yeah, we’re all in West Flo,” a tall, skinny guy says, making room for us to join them. “We moved in today.”

“How are the rooms?” Bix/Sophia asks. “I couldn’t find pictures anywhere online.”

I’m busy pretending to be interested in the small talk when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn and am faced with a lab coat that has “Beau” embroidered on the chest pocket.

My mouth goes dry and a flush of heat surges up my neck as I take in Beau/Garrett’s cheerful expression.

He towers above me, a picture-perfect Corporate heartthrob with his arm snuggly secured around Nicki’s waist, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.