By the time they reached the Marlboro later that evening, a crowd had already gathered, spilling out the doors and into the street. Jacob and Xander got in line and waited. Around them, people laughed and joked, made small talk, and even gossiped about Delaney.
“They say her eyes were designed by Charles Kivan himself,” one woman said.
“I heard that they can see through walls,” her friend replied.
“I had dinner with her last week,” a man in front of Jacob boasted to his party.
“You did not!” someone challenged.
“I did. My brother-in-law’s the assistant to the VP for marketing. He invited me.”
“What was she like?” several asked.
“Boring, I thought,” the man sniffed. “Didn’t say much.”
“She probably doesn’t have a lot to say,” a woman said. “You know what these starlets are like—they’re all bubbleheads anyway.”
“Give her a break,” another woman countered. “She used to be a Blinder. You can’t expect her to fit in.”
Listening to them carry on about someone he’d spent a part of almost every day with for the last three years, Jacob didn’t know whether to be amused or aghast. Mostly, he felt sad. The things they were saying didn’t describe the girl he knew, but he couldn’t be sure he knew who she was now any more than they did.
The sound of a man sneezing broke Jacob from his thought. He glanced over his shoulder to see the man standing directly behind him cover his mouth and begin coughing. The woman with him patted him on the back.
“I told you to see the doctor this afternoon,” she scolded.
“Just a touch of the flu,” he replied, sneezing. “I’ll be fine.”
The man coughed again. The sound reminded Jacob of his former neighbor Tobin Fletcher. Shuddering, he remembered the dream he’d had soon after joining Xander, remembered the sight of Tobin being carried by on the stretcher, his eyes open in death, and later, his wife crying on the doorstep. In real life, back in Harmony, both Tobin and his wife had been sick. He wondered how they were doing now. The sense of déjà vu came upon him again and he thought of Delaney, how she had looked just like the person in his dreams. He had always thought dreams were just an echo of what a person loved or feared, an improvisation on the present or past. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if they had any bearing on the future.
The line moved at a steady pace and before long they were at the doors. Xander handed a ticket to Jacob, who watched as each person stepped up to the scanner and placed their card into the slot. Each time, the tiny image of Delaney popped up, greeted the ticket holder, and thanked them. Soon it was Jacob’s turn.
“Thank you,” Delaney chirped. “Enjoy the show!”
I’ll try, he thought, retrieving his ticket. Xander followed and the two went inside, with Delaney’s voice repeating into the distance. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you . . .
They entered a vast lobby and let the flow of people carry them up the curved staircase toward the hall. For moment, the parade of concertgoers reminded him of the Gatherings back in Harmony, when everyone in the community filtered into the square for their regular sermon.
The comfort he had once felt, in blindness, of being part of the group, of feeling the bodies around him, had since been replaced with unease. Now, amid the chattering, plodding crowd, he fought with the rousing urge to flee. He stared down at the patterned floor tiles and tried to push away the cacophony of voices. He tried to relax, to remember he was safe. This gathering isn’t for you, he told himself. Reaching into his pocket and feeling the cool metal of the sounder, he remembered who the gathering was for. It didn’t make him feel any better.
LaPerle had given them excellent seats. They sat down and waited. Neither spoke in the semidarkness of the vast hall. Every few moments a cool breeze washed over the crowd. It felt good to be out of the crush of people. Even the voices were subdued to a murmur now as people roamed in search of their seats. The only light in the chamber came from four spotlights shining out of each corner, converging on the center of the stage, where a black grand piano rested on a glass platform.
They waited. Five minutes, ten. The lights faded and the hall went silent.
A gasp broke out from the audience as the hall filled with light as beam after beam of color flashed through the air, intersecting, cutting, and twirling as the dome of the ceiling seemed to open to a blaze of infinite stars and swirling nebulas. The beams widened, spread out into rainbow sheets that washed over the hall in waves, now punctured by a series of virtual fireworks that crashed and thundered over everyone.
As the fireworks subsided, a voice called out, “Ladies and gentlemen! A warm welcome for the Rim’s hottest new star—the beautiful, the mysterious . . . Delaney!”
The crowd erupted in a wild cheer as a single beam flashed onto a spot on the floor below them. Jacob leaned sideways to see around the person in front of him. His eyes widened.
Delaney stood, her head down, arms at her sides. Her black hair, gathered up in a series of braids, shone in the brilliant white light, matching the shimmer of her loose, almost transparent gown. She began rising through the air, raised from the floor to the stage on a nearly invisible platform of glass that made her seem to hover with a will of her own.
Reaching the level of the stage, she strode to the piano, the crowd still clapping. Jacob glanced up at Xander. He was applauding too, his eyes fixed on the glowing figure before them. Looking back to Delaney, Jacob found himself clapping as hard as any of them—it was impossible not to. She was so beautiful, so serene. And she hadn’t even started to play.
She took her seat at the piano and the crowd quieted. Softly, she began. The notes rippled over the audience. There was the slightest noise in response, as if the entire crowd joined in a collective sigh. Even Jacob was taken aback by the richness of the instrument. It made the piano he’d grown up with sound like a plinky child’s toy, like the music box he’d listened to growing up.
Jacob suddenly realized she was playing the song he’d heard on the radio back in the floater. Sure enough, a moment later the piano was joined by the full blast of invisible synthesizers and drum machines as she began singing. At least they left her voice alone, he thought as he listened to it, amplified but unprocessed.
For the second time that evening, the crowd broke into a sudden, single gasp. The lights faded to a rosy hue. But the audience wasn’t responding to the change of lighting, it was reacting to the vast image of Delaney hovering over the hall, occupying the darkness above the stage.
Jacob sank back and gripped the arms of his seat at the sight of the three-dimensional image above him. Glancing down at the stage, he realized the projection was in sync with the real girl below, but the floating form was just a disembodied head. The angle of the projection was head-on, slightly elevated, as if it was the audience who was in fact hovering before her. Every part of her face was magnified—every hair along her eyebrows, every freckle across her nose and cheeks, the sheen on her lips that glistened while she sang. But it was the eyes that dominated her face, that occupied the center of the angled view, those jeweled eyes that didn’t move, that showed no emotion but simply glowed. Jacob gritted his teeth and looked away.
“It’s okay, Jacob,” Xander said in his ear. “It’s just a hologram. It isn’t real.”
Jacob didn’t respond. Yes, he knew the head was a projection. But it was real, as real as it had been in the early hours of this morning as he lay in bed dreaming. Once again, an image of his nightmare was playing itself out before his eyes.
The song ended and the crowd exploded in applause. Delaney thanked them, but Jacob barely heard. He just kept his eyes closed and hoped the show would be over soon. She started a new song. Listening in spite of himself, he wondered who wrote the songs. Clearly they weren’t hers. This one was a love song of some kind, something about a girl who misses her boy. He’s been out to space and won’t be coming home for a long time, and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do, do, do. . . .
Jacob opened his eyes. She was still there above him, but he found that if he kept his focus on the stage, he could pretend the head wasn’t there. As the song continued, he started looking around at the crowd. They all stared with rapture on their faces, but their eyes weren’t trained on Delaney. They were fixed upon the projection hanging in space, inflated and insubstantial.
The song ended. She began another, and then another. But as she continued, Jacob noticed something. At first he wasn’t sure. It started with a single sour note. He cocked his head and focused. Soon came another. She had misplayed. Now her timing started to slip. She came in late on a chorus, missed the pickup after the bridge. A flash caught his eye, and he looked up at the hologram. Sure enough, her eyes had begun to sparkle. They were few and far between, but now and then he caught a flicker that flared across the surface of her eyes.
Not many seemed to notice her mistakes, though there were whispers in the hall as the last song ended. There was a long pause. The crowd silenced again.
“Is she all right?” Xander whispered.
“Something’s wrong,” Jacob said. He wanted to call out to her, let her know he was there. He wanted to rush up on stage and take her away, do something to help her.
She began playing again. This time there was no accompaniment, not even her voice. This time Jacob knew the song. It was his song, the one she’d written for him alone, a waltz, lulling and pure.
The crowd grew still. The piece was simple and unadorned, so different from anything she’d played so far. Listening to the song unfold, Jacob wondered if she’d planned ahead of time to play it. Did she know he was in the crowd? Was she playing this for him or for herself? He supposed it didn’t matter.
His eyelids had begun to lower when once again, her fingers slipped. His eyes snapped back open. A moment later, another misplayed chord made him wince. She slowed down, then stopped altogether. An exchange of whispers, loud and hissing, ran around the hall. She started back in, picking up where she left off.
She only got a few measures. Another slip, then another, and once again she halted. The noise of the crowd now grew from a whisper to a murmur, and though the words were indistinguishable, the tone was not. A blend of curiosity and dismay with the slightest hint of amusement, it was derisive and cold. The hologram hanging above them faded quickly and the lights rose back to white. Suddenly, Delaney seemed more isolated than before. Before she’d been the hub, holding all of them in. Now she was the center of a crater from which they’d drawn back in confusion.
Delaney looked from the keyboard, first out at the crowd and then up, tilting her head as if she were watching a butterfly flit above her or a high-soaring bird. The crowd grew quiet once again, waiting for her to make the next move. It didn’t take long. Looking down, she stretched out her hands, spreading her fingers over the keys as if she was ready to resume the performance so they could all pretend the interruption had never taken place. Jacob could sense it in the crowd. She had only to start a new song and all would be forgotten.
Blam!
Her hands smashed down on the keyboard, creating a single dissonance that shattered the silence and jolted the crowd, pushing the audience back against their seats in stunned unison.
Delaney stood, shoved back the piano bench, and made a beeline for the edge of the elevated stage. The crowd gasped as she approached, striding across the glass platform with determined steps, seeming to walk on air. Jacob leaned forward, fighting the urge to leap up and make for the pit below. Stopping short at the edge, she stamped once against the glass and the section underfoot descended, carrying her to the floor.
The audience was on its feet now and the silence was shattered by a collective buzz of confusion. By the time Jacob managed to catch a glimpse down below, Delaney had disappeared. The house lights came on.
“Let’s go,” Xander shouted to him.
He brushed by Jacob and—to Jacob’s confusion—headed down toward the stage. Though the crowd had begun to mill about, the two of them had aisle seats and it didn’t take long to push through to the railing that circled the edge.
“What are you doing?” Jacob said as Xander climbed over the railing and dropped into the pit below.
“Come on. Hurry up!” Xander shouted, lifting his arms and beckoning with his hands.
A few people had come to the edge and were looking down at him, pointing. Jacob glanced around, expecting to see a group of men coming to grab him up, but all he saw was a few curious spectators and a sea of oblivious concertgoers jabbering about what had just transpired. He looked back down to where Xander waited. From here, it looked like a long drop.
“It’s too high!” Jacob shouted.
“I’ll catch you,” Xander called back. “Trust me. Now let’s go!”
Shaking his head, Jacob clambered over the railing and lowered himself until he was sitting on the edge about four feet above Xander. Closing his eyes, he pushed off. There was a second of falling before Xander caught him and lowered him to the ground.
“This way,” Xander said, and headed for the door from which Delaney had first appeared. Jacob followed.
The door led to a dark corridor that ran about a hundred feet before joining another. This second hallway was wider, with a series of doors along both sides. Xander immediately began making his way down the hall, opening one door after another, each revealing an empty dressing room. On the fifth try, they found her.
Like the first time they’d visited her, her back was to them. She sat before a mirror at a dressing table. Her head was down, buried in her arms, but she was quiet, not crying, as Jacob first thought. They came in and closed the door.
“Don’t say anything,” she snapped. “I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t care about the stupid show.”
“Are you all right, Delaney?” Jacob said.
Her head shot up. Jacob could see her face reflected in the mirror. She broke into a smile and turned.
“Jacob!” she cried. She rose and came over, embracing him. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you to come back. I told Jack to expect you.”
“Jack hasn’t exactly been accommodating,” Xander said.
Delaney frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jacob broke in. “Delaney, what happened out there on stage?”
She sighed and turned away. Returning to her seat, she leaned in toward the mirror and traced the gold along the edges of her eyes with her fingers before burying her face in her hands again.
“It’s these eyes,” she said at last. “They’ve ruined my music. I can’t concentrate—I start watching my fingers as I’m playing and it gets me confused and then . . .” She drifted into silence.
Jacob came over and put his hands on her shoulders. She picked up her head again. He gazed down at her reflection in the mirror, uncertain if she was looking at him or at herself.
“I hate them,” she blurted out. “I never thought I’d say it, but it’s true. They’re too much, Jacob. It’s all too much.” She shook her head.
“You said you liked seeing,” he said.
“I did at first,” she replied, “but it’s exhausting. They’re always on! I can’t turn them off. I try to cover them up, but the light never goes away. You don’t know what it’s like. Nights are the worst. I haven’t had a real night’s sleep since the surgery.”
She turned and pulled him down to her.
“Not only that, I think I’m losing them.” She was whispering now, looking around as if someone else were present in the room. “They’re not working right. These last few days, I have moments of static. Everything goes white, like I’m blind all over again. And after it fades, nothing looks the same. The colors are duller, the lights are dimmer. It’s like everything is fading away. I feel like I’m fading away.”
“But I thought you were happy.”
“I was!” she declared. “Or at least, I think I was. I don’t even know anymore. And then when you came . . . I wanted you to think I knew what I was doing, that I’d done the right thing. I wanted to make myself think that.” She groaned. “Oh, Jacob, after everything that happened in Harmony, all the things I said . . .” Her voice rose, took on an edge that made Jacob’s stomach sink. He’d heard that voice before, that tone of desperation those last days in Harmony. She gripped his hands so hard he winced. “What’s wrong with me, Jacob?”
Before Jacob could respond, the door opened.
“What the hell was that out there?” LaPerle barked as he stormed into the room, followed by Karl. Seeing Jacob and Xander, he pulled up short and glared.
“I should have known,” he said. He went over to Delaney and, brushing Jacob aside, placed his hands on her shoulder. “Poor, sweet Delaney. What happened out there?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Never mind about that. Everyone has a bad moment early on. You’ve just had yours. Good. Now it’s out of the way and you can move on. I mean, it’s a bit of a setback—the performance was being broadcast all over the Rim—but we’ll work with it. Who knows? Maybe we can play it to our advantage—add a little mystery to your image. And there’s always the sympathy vote.”
He spoke quickly, his voice taking on a forced edge of cheer that couldn’t quite mask his annoyance. For her part, Delaney said nothing, but Jacob could see her shoulders sag, the corners of her mouth turn down as LaPerle rambled. Suddenly, the man turned to Jacob.
“So nice of you to come by,” he said. “I’m sure seeing you helped lift Delaney’s spirits. Karl can show the way out—this place is quite a maze.”
“But we just got here!” Jacob exclaimed.
“Can’t they stay?” Delaney said. “I want Jacob to stay with me. He can sleep over in my suite tonight. There’s plenty of room. Please, Jack.”
LaPerle knelt down before Delaney so that his head was level with hers. “You know I’d do anything for you,” he said. “I told you so when you first came aboard, remember? Now, listen to me. You’ve had a difficult night. A terrible night. The thing you need most is to get some sleep without any distractions.”
“But, Jack . . .” she pleaded.
“Now listen, Delaney. I told your friends earlier that we could arrange a visit. Soon. We’ll make it real soon. Okay?”
She said nothing, but gave a slight nod. LaPerle rose.
“Gentlemen?” he said, gesturing toward the door.
They started to file out. On his way by Delaney, Jacob stopped and leaned down and the two of them embraced. Xander and Karl went out into the hall, while LaPerle waited in the doorway.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said to her.
“Right,” she replied, trying to smile.
He slipped the sounder out of his pocket and placed it in her palm. “I thought you might want this back,” he whispered.
Her hand closed over it. This time, she smiled for real.
Jacob rose and left, followed by LaPerle, who closed the door after them.
“It seems our little meetings have become quite a habit,” he snapped, turning to face them. “And now look what you’ve done. See how you’ve upset her.”
Xander snorted. “You’re trying to pin what happened tonight on us?” he demanded.
“She was fine before you two showed up. Everything was on track. And now . . . well, you saw her out there tonight. There’s a lot at stake here.”
“For you,” Xander retorted.
“For all of us,” LaPerle said. “If this pans out, she’ll never have another worry the rest of her days.”
“And that’s what this is all about, right?” Xander said.
“Why not?” LaPerle said. He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m wasting my time with you two. Enough. Karl, escort them out. And this time, make sure they get the message.”
He turned and went back into the dressing room, slamming the door behind him. Frowning, Karl passed them and headed down the hall. “Let’s go,” he snapped.
They followed him down a series of corridors toward the lobby.
“Karl,” Xander said after a few minutes of walking. Karl ignored him. He just kept his body plowing forward. “Karl!” Xander barked.
Karl drew up so fast they nearly collided with him. “Just shut up, Xander,” he growled, his back still to them. He continued. A few moments later they came to a door and Karl turned to face them. “You wouldn’t listen to me before, so listen now. Stay away from the girl. Stay away from Mixel.”
“You sound like one of them,” Xander said.
“Christ, Xander,” Karl said, shaking his head. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’d ask you the same question. What’s this handler got about us coming around?”
“I don’t ask questions, I just do what they tell me. You remember what that was like, don’t you?”
“Why do you think I left?”
Karl snorted. “We both know why you left.” He opened the door. Beyond it they could see the lobby. Xander walked out with Jacob in tow, then stopped and faced Karl, who stood in the doorway.
“See you later, pal,” Xander scoffed.
“Look, I remember everything we went through together,” Karl said, “and I know you do too. But next time I see you, there’ll be trouble. I’m not risking my job over this. It’s just business. That’s all.”
“Just business,” Xander said. “That was always our line, wasn’t it?”
Karl nodded and closed the door.
The sky was dark as they left the concert hall. Night had come quickly. They made their way to the cruiser in silence.
“Why doesn’t LaPerle want us near Delaney?” Jacob asked finally as they turned into the alley.
“Control,” Xander replied. It was too dark for Jacob to see Xander’s face, but Jacob could hear it in his voice: that bitterness, an edge darker than the sky above them. “It’s nothing personal. Just business. They want her to depend only on them. If we’re around, if you’re in her life, it makes it harder for that to happen. They want to keep her isolated.”
“I know what that’s like,” Jacob replied.
They got in the cruiser and drove away, leaving the lights of the city behind. Looking back, Jacob could almost see Delaney’s face still hovering, opaque above the towers, her eyes absorbing the city’s glow, unable to tear themselves away.