Simulated a calculated n.., p.33
Simulated: A Calculated Novel, page 33
The sim glasses dangle in my hands. The phase three that Noble programmed haunts me. I’ve been battling internally whether or not to do it.
I wander out to our back porch, which looks out over a sandy beach and the Puget Sound. Settling into a deck chair under a thick blanket, I listen to the waves, calculating their sets coming at me with not only beautiful numbers but new oscillations and frequencies with each splash and break of water on the shore.
I look up. It’s a clear night, and a host of stars tease me, holding back their secrets. With each twinkle, they’re putting off energy that no doubt Noble is harnessing. Somehow, I know he’s there writing something in the sky, his mind calculating at light speed. His star coding comes to mind. Experts said the codes are so complicated no one has learned to read them yet. I wonder what they say. I wonder at our connection and if he had told me sooner how he felt, what would have happened. I also wonder where he went.
With that in mind and a buzz in my stomach, I slip on the sim glasses. “K2, phase three, please.”
A rustle of frosty breeze brushes against my ears and cheeks. The tip of my nose is cold, and as I inhale, fresh, chilly air tingles my senses. But it’s not salt-air. It reminds me of mountaintops and pines.
My eyes open to miles of white rolling hills. Trees everywhere blanketed and dressed in beautiful white gowns. The sky is a thick wall of gray, and it’s snowing.
My hands are gloved and I’m wearing a long, down parka. Even the boots on my feet are so warm I couldn’t be more comfortable. Snowflakes are falling around me in droves. I cover my mouth, almost giggling. I haven’t seen snow in years. A gift, from Noble.
The flakes are larger than the ones I saw as a child. I stretch out my hand, watching them fall on my glove. Laughing, my mouth opens to catch them on my tongue.
I want to play in it forever. I fall to the ground to make a snow angel, then roll over and over. I pack it together to form the biggest snowball and toss it downhill.
I wade through the snowy land, thankful Noble said there would be no danger here. Up ahead, a path in the snow leads to a small table under a tree. There’s a lamp on it, a thermos and two mugs. I look around, wondering if Noble is somehow going to join me. But no one is there.
I pour the liquid into the mug. Hot chocolate, perfectly sweet with a dash of savory. There’s a note under the second mug. I pick it up.
Digits. I always wanted to give you a billion snowflakes. I hope you’re eating fractals right now and enjoying them. It’s the most intricate, infinite art you could ever taste.
Yours, Mandel.
The lump in my throat returns. He planned to tell me who he was in Tunis. I inhale the snowy air and muse as I sip on my hot chocolate.
What do you want? Qadar had asked me. I don’t know, but I can’t move forward until I understand what is between Noble and me. A whistle in the trees catches my attention. Vibrations and numbers calculate every tree, distance and detail. I perk up. Every element of this sim is perfectly placed. The table under the trees. The path in the snow.
It dawns on me. This is a real place. This is Mandel’s memory. So where am I? Where is he?
I look up, intentionally scanning the sky, searching for the brightest spot in the thick cloud cover. Thank God for my numbers because the sun’s position is enough to calculate that this place is in the northern hemisphere, and very far north. Looking downhill, there’s something hidden behind a group of trees. I’m drawn to it, but the minute I jump up and head that way, the screen goes black.
I take off the sim glasses, breathless and once again draw in the salty air. I tighten the blanket around me. It’s all written in the stars…
Was that Noble’s way of telling me I could find him? Does he think I can crack his code?
The clear night dares me to look up and when I do, my numbers reach into the heavens, drawing lines across the sky and digging for treasure.
I set my gaze on the stars. It’s high time Noble had a little competition.
Epilogue
LÜDERITZ, NAMIBIA
February, Three months later…
The world is upside down.
In reality, I’m in the Southern Hemisphere where the earth is tilted toward the sun, so unlike Seattle right now, where frost covers every leaf and blade of grass, here in the arid city of Lüderitz, it’s summer and a blazing heat radiates over a rainbow of brown terrain colliding with a deep blue sky. So it’s not exactly upside down, no matter how life feels right now.
I’m sitting outside on a sandy ledge in shorts and a tank top, wiping sweat from my brow, staring out at the South Atlantic, calculating how many hours it would take to sail the 3635 miles to Rio de Janeiro. Behind me, Felicia and Pens are wrapping up the final tests at a solar-powered workstation we set up on the coast, two miles north of the city. Working with the Namibia United Energy Research and Development team, PSS helped develop new tools and techniques to locate and recover renewable energy sources in safer, faster, and more sustainable ways. Harrison and Eddie are installing the last of the PSS updates to their new tech at the NUE headquarters in town.
“One last test and we’re done,” Pens says, satisfied. “After seventeen days of working on this project, we can finally be beach bums and go sightseeing.” She gulps down a bottle of water.
Felicia snags her bathing suit, and dives behind the workstation door to change. “Harrison and Eddie want to explore the shipwrecks off Skeleton Coast,” she yells from inside. “I think we should head to Victoria Falls in Zambia. What do you say, Jo?”
“Huh? Sure. Meet you there,” I say, distracted as my mind measures the sounds coming off the ocean. The global wind patterns—or the polar easterlies—and the eddies forming in the sea are so different here. No wonder so many ships have run aground and there’s often heavy fog.
“Jo, you’re not paying attention again,” Pens yells over. She sighs, shaking her head. “Fel, where are the X-2 chip readers? I can’t find them.”
“Harrison has all the micro-tech in his bag. He’ll be back in 15 minutes.” The oscillations of Felicia’s voice collide with a car speeding by in the background. My mind buzzes, listening to it all.
“Fifteen minutes is too long when I’m this sweaty. It’s hotter here than our last job in Saudi Arabia,” Pens whines, fanning herself. “Jo, do you have that old phone from China?”
“Yeah, why?” My gift tracks the familiar pitch in her voice.
“The tech we’ve installed is super advanced, but we need to make sure it can read anything, no matter how outdated. Can I use the sim card? That should work for this test.”
“No problem.” At least my nostalgia is good for something. I take out the old phone from my backpack and rub the edges. I don’t know why I carry it with me. It’s not like I ever turn it on. It’s sort of a reminder I’m free. It was the first piece of tech I used after escaping the Pratt. Chan gave it to me. It’s also loaded with old messages from Kai. I toss the phone to Pens and stare out over the ocean. I wonder where he is right now.
“Thanks,” Pens says. “This should be done in one minute. Then, we swim.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I say. “I want to read up on the new PSS jobs before swimming, so we’ll be ready to make a decision on where we’re going next. There are jobs in Benin and Mozambique, or we could move on to South America?”
I don’t really care which job we choose next as long as I keep moving. Seeing the world in a new way has been like getting another PhD. In every location, I’m creating new charts, new graphs, new logs of information. Everything is numerically recorded—sounds, sights, rules, languages, maps. My brain is filling up and filing everything away like it’s preparing for something. But I don’t know what. The capacity of my gift is increasing, but it’s also creating more questions—that no one here has answers to.
“Jo, we’ve been on the road since Tunisia,” Pens says, not looking up from the machine. “Don’t get me wrong. We’ve never accomplished this much. And we love it, but we’re not the one who lost a boyfriend.”
“And actually, I gained one,” Felicia says, coming out ready to swim. “We just want to be sure you’re doing ok.”
Namibia is the ninth country we’ve been to since Tunisia. We finish one job, go home for a few days, then fly out again. We’re not on any special operations. There are no fingertip bombs, gangsters, political or economic crisis, terrorists or weapons. It’s just regular PSS jobs—solving problems and helping people. It’s relaxing. Jetlag doesn’t even affect me anymore. I calculate flight times and sleep patterns and now I adjust within hours. A small, but welcome perk of my gift.
“Even at night you don’t sleep much because of your hobby, which is cool but…” Felicia glances to the new PSS telescope and the math book on the table beside me.
I shrug an awkward grin. Bouncing all over the world also helps my research. I track, chart and record the stars from as many positions of earth as possible. Like tonight, I’ll take advantage of the low light pollution here, and work on the hardest code I’ve ever tried to decipher in my life. I’ve spent months probing galaxies and following asteroid patterns, analyzing sun and star energy and scouring the solar system for formulas and equations until finally a tiny pattern started to emerge. A puzzle in the light, a semi-morse code in the stars. I started to recognize coordinates, an address in the sky…and then the trail went cold. No more messages.
“Fine. I’ll come swimming. And you guys can choose the next job.”
I grab my bathing suit, about to change when Pens called out. “Jo. It’s asking for your pin number. Do you remember it?”
“Yep.” When my numbers came back, all the memories associated with my gift returned as well. Once again, I’m a walking directory of everything I have ever learned or observed. I walk over and punch in the old password. The machine starts beeping wildly.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Well, it can read the card, which means, the equipment works, but strangely, it’s picking up a message that was sent to this number over a month ago.”
“What does it say?” I ask, walking over.
“It must be a wrong number. It’s written to someone named Mila,” Pens says.
Goosebumps roll over my arms, despite the heat. “Read it, please.”
Pens gives me a quizzical look. “OK,” she says. “Mila. I need your help. It’s urgent. Per favore. Call me.”
My hands drop to my lap, a rush of memories taking over my thoughts. “Non ci credo…I don’t believe it.”
“Who’s Mila?” Pens wrinkles her nose. “Jo? Are you okay? You’ve got that look on your face…”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I just haven’t heard that name in a long time.”
It’s one of my old names from China—after Double-Eight and before Phoenix. There’s only one person on the planet who calls me Mila.
Rafael.
Watch For: Activated (Calculated Book 3)
COMING SOON
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Simulated Discussion Questions
What are some examples of fractals in nature? (Look them up online for visuals. Why are fractals so appealing to Jo and Noble?
How do the three phases in Jo’s simulations help her heal and move on from trauma? What does she avoid in the simulations? What elements in the simulations help bring Jo’s gift back?
There are three women who strongly influence Jo’s life: her Mom, Madame and Mrs. T. How do each of these women shape Jo’s character and the choices she makes?
Several characters in the book face the choice of letting go of something they are holding onto: Jo, Noble, Jo’s dad. What do they need to let go of and why? What might have happened if they had made a different choice?
The PSS prodigies, including Jo, each have extraordinary gifts. If you could have any of their talents, which gift would you choose and why?
What place, experience or food in the book appeals to you most?
Acknowledgments
Once again, I need to thank a whole crew of people who made this book possible.
Thank you to my stellar agent, Amy Jameson, who always has my best interest in mind. Without your keen insight, this book wouldn’t be half as awesome as it is.
Thank you to my publisher Rachel Del Grosso and the entire Wise Wolf Books crew, for once again giving me a chance to birth a book into the world. Thanks for all the work behind the scenes to make this book a success.
To my Simulated lifesavers: my amazing critique partners, Ellen McGinty, Candace Mieding, Rebecca Woo-Krauss, Chelsea Bobulski, Rebecca Alexandru, Becky Dean, Amaris Glass, Hilary Magnuson, Ernie Chiara, and of course, Ira McBee. My biggest ‘thank yous’ for this book belongs to you all. This book would not have been written without many tears if I didn’t have you. You stayed with me in the game, encouraged me, sent feedback, read pages quickly and at odd hours, talked through plotlines, showered me with great ideas and loved this book from the beginning. You kept me focused and fueled me to get this book done.
Thank you to my early beta readers, Michelle Tsang and Jenni Claar, for devouring the book within a couple days, then calling excitedly to tell me how much you loved it—that meant so much to me.
Special thanks to Kirsten Mount for your math insight and suggesting I look into fractals.
Thank you to Katylin Wonnell, who read, edited, checked language and other details, and created discussion questions for both Calculated and Simulated. You’re awesome!
To my Street Team, especially Megan Walvoord and Heather Kelley—your enthusiasm and love for this series gets me fired up.
To my KidLitNet ladies, especially Elizabeth Van Tassel and Lorie Langdon.
Thanks to all the readers who have reached out, left reviews, pre-ordered and sent messages telling me how eagerly you were waiting for book two! That made me nervous, but also so excited! Thank you!
Special thanks to Justin Gardner, professional hacker extraordinaire, who gave me incredible feedback to make my prodigy team sound legit—your insight was invaluable!
Thank you to Abdulqadar Dawood, Doug Magnuson, Martin Woodruff for answering my questions and sharing your stories, insight, and suggestions on Tunisian culture and Arabic language.
Thank you, Glenn Fleishman, for sharing your experience and insight regarding gifted teens and adults.
Thank you to my parents, Richard and Hellen Schmid, who not only kept me alive by feeding me while I holed up in their downstairs basement every day during my deadline but cheered me on daily and helped with the three wild things, so I could finish. Special thanks to my dad who also read Simulated early, gave great feedback, and loved all the twists and turns. To Isaac, Olivia, and Leanne, (my big brother and two younger sisters)—where would I be without your constant support and love? I love you guys.
Chrystal and Brad Bowen, the most thoughtful award goes to you. You dropped off numerous meals to my family while I was on deadline so I could focus on finishing the book instead of cooking. (You may have saved Ira a few times, too!) You guys are the best!
Thanks to my three wild things. Even though you didn’t like that I was on a deadline, you still got excited about Simulated whenever we talked about it. You may not think that writing books is cool now, but you love anything “story” and jump at any chance for me to tell you one. I can’t wait for the day you can read the Calculated series. Thanks for your patience, my sweet-sweets.
Thanks to Ira McBee, my husband—you just know the craft of a good story and are always upping my game from good to great. My stories wouldn’t be as cool without your feedback. You also took on the full responsibility of the three wild things while I was on deadline and you survived without any gray hair. How do you do that?
Lastly, thanks always to Jesus—in a world of chaos, you’re my fractal.
About the Author
Nova McBee is a hopeless nomad and culture nerd who has lived and worked in Europe, the Middle East and Asia. She speaks multiple languages, including Mandarin, and lived in China for more than a decade writing books and teaching English and Creative Writing to teens and adults. She thrives on complex plots, adventure, making cross-cultural connections and coffee. She currently resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband and three children.
Nova McBee, Simulated: A Calculated Novel
