Chapter Twenty-Four

September 20X6, Stanford

They split us into groups. Eric/Nash brings Cara/Chloe, me, and two of the guys to Dr. Nasif’s office while Bix/Sophia and the rest of the guys go with Beau/Garrett and Dr. Schilling.

Folding my arms over my roiling stomach, I watch Beau/Garrett retreat to Dr. Schilling’s office, unsure how so much could have changed since last night. Whatever happened to “I won’t let them find you out”?

Eric/Nash heads in the opposite direction. I’m in his hands now, for better or for worse—and I can’t help thinking for worse—but I scramble to keep up, lest I get lost in the Mind Upload Maze.

I come along Cara/Chloe, matching her purposeful stride. With her shoulders back and her chin tilted to the ceiling, her posture reveals none of the quaking that’s going on inside me right now. My back aches from my pinched stance and I don’t know how she can be so calm unless she has plans to throw me under the bus when our scans don’t match. Hopefully, I don’t have to find out. Hopefully Rayelle and Stewart come through. I clutch the tiger’s eye beneath my scrubs, silently asking it to soothe my raw nerves, as we follow Eric/Nash around so many twists and turns I’m completely turned around.

When we arrive at Dr. Nasif’s cramped office, to my surprise, some of the kinks in my spine unknot. The clean white space is surprisingly low-tech compared to the mind-maze that got us here. I guess the grant money is going to mind research, not Laborer office decor. But despite the starkness of the room, there is something comforting, human, in the small touches of color that dot the space: a sage green chair, a pale pink lamp, a vase holding wilted roses that are a purplish color so dark, they’re almost black. A whitewashed wood bookcase strangely holds real books—everything from The Feynman Lectures to How to Teach Physics to Your Dog—that rest alongside small vials and bottles filled with colorful potions and oils. The ambience is in sharp contrast to Dr. Nasif’s rigid exterior, and in glimpsing this side of her, an overwhelming sense that she won’t hurt me blossoms in my chest.

And, on her desk, the top of which is a screen with complex math problems displayed across the surface like a map, beneath a half-full coffee mug that reads “think like a proton—stay positive,” and next to a cup of antique pencils, sits my Book of Secrets.

Goose bumps shoot up my arms. Seeing the palm-sized leather-bound book that holds my most sacred memories—the ones that I hid even from my Life Stream—instantly has me alive with connection to my old friend.

Adrenaline clears my sinuses, and forgetting the impending scan, I concentrate my AMPs on the real reason I’m here, tapping out, ! Long-short-long-short-long-long.

Stewart’s message comes back: S-U-R-E?

I tap back the letter y. One long, one short, two long.

I wish I could explain that this is more than a hunch—that even if it was a hunch, Stewart should trust my hunches because my hunches are the reason my brain should not be scanned—but I can’t. He can’t know my truth. He’s just going to have to trust me. I’m starting to tap out t-r-u-s-t when Dr. Nasif notices my fidgeting hand. She cocks her head to the side, watching me.

Freezing mid-tap I pretend to scratch my thigh.

She doesn’t react. She simply averts her eyes and picks up the coffee mug from on top of my book, cupping it in both hands like she’s trying to warm them, though the coffee must be cold.

I wince inwardly, certain she suspects I’m up to something, and I come down—just a little—from the high of finding my book.

“Please everyone, have a seat.” Her gaze flickers to a line of stools in front of the only windows in the room. The windows overlook an examination lab that contains a metal table and a shelf full of electrodes that must be for experiments.

Everyone shuffles toward the seats. Wanting to prove to Stewart I’m right about the book, I pretend to trip as I pass the desk, knocking my journal and the pencil cup to the floor. The pencils clatter and I crouch to pick everything up. “Sorry about that,” I mumble, as I deftly flip my book over, so it opens to a random page. The book has a slick, clear cover on the outside, maybe to protect it, but otherwise it seems unchanged, and my eyes linger on the pages for Stewart so he can capture the words.

“It’s no problem.” Dr. Nasif snatches the book from me. Hopefully, Stewart saw enough to believe me.

She briefly peers at me from under raised eyebrows and I get the impression she’s trying to solve a puzzle, but the moment quickly passes. After setting the coffee back on her desk, she gestures for me to sit.

“I promise this won’t take long.” She crosses behind her desk and inserts my book onto the bookshelf as I settle on the stool.

“You’ll be entering the lab one at a time where Eric will hook you up to our brain scanner. We won’t be mapping your brains at this time. This is a quick, basic scan—a lie detector almost.” She returns to where we’re seated at the window and comes to a stop in front of me. “Now, who would like to go first?”

My heart torpedoes into my throat and I stare at her shoes. Rubber soles. Sensible. She doesn’t make mistakes. And if she doesn’t make mistakes, why would she leave something as important as my Book of Secrets lying out? The answer doesn’t come and I try to calm down. Maybe she just received a secret message and someone else left it on her desk or maybe she’s hiding it in plain sight?

“No volunteers?” Dr. Nasif’s voice brings my attention back to her. “I guess I’ll have to choose someone then. Cara. Why don’t you go first?” She smiles.

My book momentarily forgotten, my shoulders droop and I jerk my head toward Cara/Chloe. She’s cool as ever.

“Sure.” With a shrug, she slides off her stool and follows Eric/Nash into the lab.

Wiping my clammy palms on my scrubs, I swivel around to face the window. How are we going to get out of this? Dr. Nasif is going to see we’re not twins. She’s going to see that my brain is quantum. I force air into my lungs, willing my features to convey Kerri’s relaxed curiosity, all the while cursing Garrett for leaving me here.

Inside the lab, Eric/Nash has Cara/Chloe sit on the metal table before he puts what looks like a motorcycle helmet on her head. As soon as her face disappears inside, the window separating us lights up with a scan of her brain, a colorful patchwork network resembling needlepoint embroidery, lit with fluorescent spots and flowing fibers in every color of the rainbow. I have no idea what any of it means—or how my scan will differ—but based on everything Allard has told me about my brain, I have zero hope the difference won’t be blatantly obvious.

My stomach heaves, but I swallow the sickness. At least if I have to resort to faking sick, I’ll be believable. Making sure Dr. Nasif is engrossed in what’s happening in the lab, I quietly tap out N-O-T-T-W-I-N-S-H-E-L-P on my thigh.

I get no response.

“Okay, Cara, a short series of statements will appear in the visor. Please answer on a scale of one to five, five being that you strongly agree, one being that you strongly disagree, and two through four being somewhere in between.” Dr. Nasif speaks into a microphone that must sound in the lab. “You don’t need to speak. Your brain will speak for you—in fact, I’ll have your answer before you consciously think it—but please think it anyway. I’ll be noting the sections of your brain that light up and your answers will determine if you work with me or with Dr. Schilling. Please know there are no right or wrong answers. We’re after the truth and it takes all kinds of minds to arrive at it, so be as honest as you can—give your instinctual answer. The first questions are fact-based, so we can get a litmus for your belief center.” She positions herself in the center of the window, so she has the best view of Chloe’s brain. “Are you ready, Eric? Cara?”

Eric/Nash gives a thumbs up and the motorcycle helmet bobs up and down as Cara/Chloe nods her acceptance.

We all focus on the brain reflected in the window and my toes go numb. If I have to run, will I be able to?

“We’re watching the ventromedial prefrontal cortex.” Dr. Nasif taps a colorful section at the front of Chloe’s brain with her index finger.

Inside the lab, Eric/Nash waves a hand, and the front of Cara/Chloe’s brain zaps to life, lighting up fluorescent green in spots. The questions go quickly—at least I think so because the room is silent—but her brain flashes from green to orange back to green to blue. The colors mean nothing to me and I’m glad I’m not the one interpreting them, though I’d love to know Chloe’s truth.

A minute later, Eric/Nash removes the helmet. He shows Cara/Chloe out to wait in the hallway on the other side of the lab. She’s leaving me to the wolves. And part of me wonders if that wasn’t her plan all along. But it couldn’t be. Could it? All I know is, I still don’t trust her.

Eric/Nash calls in one of the other guys. I watch the same scenario play out, telling myself everything is going to be fine. Someone will come through. But before long, I’m the only one left and Stewart still hasn’t saved me.

I tap out, “I’m up,” on my thigh.

The sensor on my spine remains frustratingly silent and I cringe.

“Your turn, Kerri.” Dr. Nasif opens the door to the lab for me.

“I’m actually not feeling so well.” I stand and press my hands to my cheeks, playing up the weakness my knees are actually experiencing. “Could I do this tomorrow?”

“It only takes a minute, and your physical discomforts have no bearing on the results.” Dr. Nasif’s face scrunches in sympathy. “I’d appreciate it if you tried. Get it over with. It won’t hurt— I promise. And then you can go back to your dorm and lie down. We need this data to place you on your team tomorrow.” She seals her lips together in a small smile and my instinct is to trust her. A weight lifts, lightening my mood. But that can’t be right. Maybe she’s seen too many brains since Chloe’s scan to be certain we’re not twins and she’ll need to view them side by side, which could give us time to plant a new scan. Or maybe Nash will think of something or Stewart will come through with a miracle. The hope for those possibilities must be what’s causing this floating sensation, like I don’t have to worry. It’s not that I can actually trust her.

But, in this moment, I also don’t have a choice.

My eyes dart around the room in search of an escape, but I know I can’t run. All I can do is participate and pray for that miracle.

“Okay. I’ll do my best.” I nod. Walking as slowly as I can, I cross my fingers and enter the lab.

“Don’t be nervous.” Eric/Nash pats the metal table, indicating where I should sit. He’s in full Eric-mode, giving no indication he has a plan to keep my brain out of Dr. Nasif’s hands. “I’ll be the one initially analyzing the results.” A lot of good that will do me. She’s still going to see my brain on the window. Why are you letting this happen?

I’m silently screaming, but I climb up on the cold table and sit squinting at him, my instincts telling me it’s a lost cause. She’s going to know.

His lips stretch into a reassuring smile as he lifts the helmet onto my head, but zero percent of me is comforted. He cocoons me in blackness, blotting out all sound, before clipping a strap under my chin. My neck strains against the added weight and I inhale stale air.

The visor screen that wraps around my face is blank but I’m well aware my brain is now lit up for Dr. Nasif to see. My mouth goes dry. Luckily, I’m last to go, so she’s the only one getting a preview.

“Think your answers: five is strongly agree, one is strongly disagree.” Dr. Nasif’s voice sounds inside the helmet, startling me. Somehow, I hear her clearly over my heart thundering in my ears.

A green light appears on the top right corner of the screen and a statement is spelled out in orange letters: Dog is spelled D-O-G.

Five.

Another statement: C is the third letter in the English alphabet.

Five.

Humans have free will.

I hesitate. It doesn’t feel like it at this moment, but Four.

The next statement appears: Human action is only the result of a chemical process in the brain.

Two.

Cats have free will.

Three.

Humans are conscious.

Five.

Spiders are conscious.

Four.

Cats have a soul.

I don’t have time to answer the last one. A shrill alarm explodes out of the quiet, and I almost jump out of my skin. The visor screen goes blank at the same time I feel a vibration on my lower back: B-E-S-T-I-C-O-U-L-D-D-O.

Ripping the helmet off my head, I briefly see my brain reflected in the window. I register Dr. Nasif’s knitted eyebrows and slack jaw as she stares at the image—before she leaps to her feet.

She rushes into the lab. “We have to go. Now,” she yells over the siren. “Follow me.” Throwing the door open, she disappears into the hall.

“This way.” Eric/Nash grabs my arm and drags me to my feet. “We have to keep up with her. Only the doctors know their way through the labyrinth. We’ll get lost in there without her.” He pushes me out the door, but before we leave, I peek over my shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of my brain scan. The window that moments ago was alight with images of my brain is blank.

She erased it.

The information hits me with hurricane force.

Why would she do that? But there is no time for answers. Eric/Nash shoves me forward.

We sprint until we catch the last of the group disappearing into the maze.

“There’s a problem with the ping-pong experiment,” Dr. Nasif says over her shoulder as she jogs. I strain to hear her over the blasting siren.

“Even though everyone was programmed to remain peaceful and calm, one of the students lost his cool and threw a ping-pong paddle at another one.” Her words come out between puffs of breath. Turning right, then left, she navigates what I think is a different path than the one that brought us here.

“Maybe this proves free will,” she continues. “But most likely it’s an algorithmic impulse yet to be suppressed. That’s why we run these tests.” She pushes through the double doors that lead to the anteroom and the wailing siren abruptly stops.

“That’s better.” She exhales. Silence settles around us as she escorts us into the Hall of the Connect-dome. “I’m sorry to cut our interviews short, but I’ve seen everything I need to see. We’ll message you your team assignments this afternoon and tell you where to report tomorrow. You can all go back to the dorms and enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that, she disappears down a hallway.

“I’ll show you out.” Eric/Nash guides us through the final set of doors.

As soon as we return to the lobby, I start to follow Cara/Chloe to the dorms, but Eric/Nash grips my arm, pulling me back.

I blink up at him, bracing myself for whatever he wants with me.

“Do you have a few minutes to chat?” He flashes me his wrist screen that is lit up with a message from Dr. Nasif and I do a double take, trying to read what it says, but he drops his wrist before I can comprehend it.

“Dr. Nasif has asked that I don’t let you out of my sight.” His fingers tighten around my bicep like bony tentacles, sending a tremor down my spine.

“Hey Cara, your sister will catch up with you later,” he calls to Cara/Chloe, who shrugs her indifference.

Eric/Nash bends down and murmurs in my ear, “Let’s take a walk.”