Simulated, p.34
Simulated, page 34
“Of course.” She nods and leans over to one of our three bodyguards, Hank Wilson. He’s very muscular, and tall like Qadar, winning the nickname, Tank. “Tank, please take her back.”
Tank stands, and I follow. My teammates watch me with concern. They understand that my new gift is an adjustment. But it’s not just that holding me back.
Outside, the city comes alive with numbers. In the span of twelve seconds, my numbers draw up five ways to walk to Lake Geneva. They count every window on five townhouses and cute European shops. They record the length of the street, the 21 steps it takes to cross the road, 9 cars speeding by and 13 pedestrians, speaking three different languages. The night is all lit up, like walking inside a computer hologram of dimensions and graphs. Part of me wants to roam the streets, but that nagging paranoia drives me toward the hotel. If I keep up with Tank’s pace, we’ll be there in six minutes.
We walk on cobblestone streets, the lovely European setting like a painting. The scent in the air is the frequency of blue. Ultraviolet. Whatever it is triggers me. It feels like the Pratt, like dangerous men are prowling. I can’t tell if the threats are real or imagined. I could say something to the bodyguard, but I don’t. A week ago, I scared my dad when we were walking on the beach. I was convinced we were being followed, so I forced him to run off Alki Beach and into a coffee shop while K2, my military grade smart watch, ran a surveillance grid. But I was wrong. I’m seeing too many ghosts behind the waves of oscillations crashing through me. What I need to do is focus on refining my new abilities and finding Noble.
The hotel doors are ten feet in front of us. A sudden dread comes over me. The sensation of being watched, followed, pours down on me like rain. I concentrate but there’s nothing but cars pulling up, people getting out. I’m okay. I’m safe.
But inside, I’m a fist balling up—I could track whoever is closing in on me. I could hunt them down. Get a grip, Jo. What happened in Tunisia is messing with your mind again. Kai nearly died right in front of you. An event I’ve not forgotten. I rein myself in. Chaos is not what I need right now.
We reach the hotel. It’s well lit, well-guarded. Surveillance is everywhere; so is the buzz of cameras and guards. Tank is right next to me. I rub a thumb over K2’s screen. All tasers are operational. My tranq-earrings, too. Nothing is wrong.
Tank, like the other bodyguards, isn’t obligated to stand watch over my room anymore. When we reach our rooms on the third floor he says, “I’m right next door.” I nod my thanks, then he wanders into his room.
I slip the key into the lock when that other frequency, so faint and warm, the same boomerang in the meeting, races at me again then flashes down the hall. My body temperature rises. My gift snaps clear for a moment, but I’m still confused—that frequency is not attached to anyone or anything in the hotel. It lights up like a map pointing down the hall. The way it feels…like a warning, like an invitation, like I’m stuck in winter and summer is calling me.
I shrug off the feeling and step into my hotel room, glad to be safely locked in. Glad everything is fine. No one is after me. But as I plop down in a chair by the window and look out over the lake, that warm frequency pulses again outside of my room. The desire to know what it is wins out. I decide to follow it like a phantom in the night.
It leads me away from my room in a path of wavelengths moving so fast I can’t read the equations inside it.
My heart pounds as I sneak down the hall. The layout of the hotel is etched in my mind. At the end of the hall there’s an emergency exit. I’m sure it leads to the roof. The door has an alarm that will be triggered if I don’t dismantle it. I grit my teeth, use K2 to hack into the controls and turn off the door’s sensors. Instantly the electrical system of the door goes down. The drop of the energy in the frequency around me is obvious.
I race up three flights of stairs, pushing through the roof door. I was sure that warm frequency led me here, but no one and nothing is in sight. I linger because the night is clear, and the roof reminds me of the first time I met Noble at the Bardo Museum. Calm settles over me.
I sit on the roof, my head piecing together puzzles made of stars, fractals and lightning. But the moment of calm dissolves as my body spikes with adrenaline shooting straight to my chest. A sharp tingle comes over me, carrying a massive surge of electrical frequencies—and a split second later, an all-consuming void of them. Soon I know why. Lights all over the city snap out.
I jolt forward, alert. Three minutes is like an eternity as I crouch on the pitch-dark roof. As suddenly as the lights come back on, I register the pounding of boots on stairs. A surge of human energy races toward me. Silent alarms are going off in the building. People are charging upstairs toward me. Paranoid or not, someone is coming.
Elevators. Footsteps, large and decisive; more footsteps, light and swift. Weapons buzzing. A massive tangle of frequencies is converging on the spot where I am.
I scramble over loose gravel to the west side of the roof. A series of ventilation ducts poke and twist out of the roof. One forms what looks like a U-shaped cave 78 centimeters tall. I crawl into its shadows. As I turn, the perpendicular ventilation duct flexes with a popping sound as I accidentally hit it with my elbow. Why didn’t I calculate that?
K2 buzzes on my wrist like a swarm of mad hornets, spouting messages from Harrison. “Do not go into your room! Get out of the hotel!” But there’s no time to respond. I flip it to silent.
The access door to the roof slams open. Figures spring through, boots scrambling across the grit. Breath is sucked from me. Nine pairs of feet.
I raise K2 ready to fire a taser, but the odds don’t look good. I’m outnumbered and crammed into a mess of aluminum ventilation ducts. Trapped in a dead end.
Why did I follow that strange frequency up here? I scold myself for this obvious tactical error. Their feet move across the roof. From the sound of it, this is a well-trained team. Professionals. They’re within eight and half feet of the duct. Frequencies crash through me like jackhammers, making it nearly impossible to calculate. Just then a pair of black boots steps in front of me and a voice calls out.
“Jo!”
My numbers jolt me back to reality. Familiar sizes, shapes, and sounds download like a faucet on full blast. I exhale. It’s the three bodyguards. Ms. T. And the PSS team.
“Thank God you’re safe. After I left you, it was minutes before an alarm went off,” Tank pants, shaking his head in wonder. “How did you end up here?”
I flash to that warm frequency that now feels like a ghost, a delusion. “What’s wrong?” I ask, utterly confused.
Ms. T wraps her arms around my shoulder. “Your hotel room was broken into after Tank dropped you off. We received an alert on the Gatekeeper tech Eddie set on our rooms.”
Eddie leans in. “All your stuff was searched or stolen. There’s no sign of the perpetrators on any security cameras.”
“They were gone before we got there,” Ms. T says, trembling slightly. The look on her face is enough to steal my breath. “You were gone, too. We thought you were…taken.”
Interesting. I wasn’t paranoid after all.
Enjoying the sneak peak? ACTIVATED (CALCULATED BOOK 3) is Available Now.
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?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
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 Rachel Del Grosso and her entire crew, for once again helping me birth another book into the world.
To my Simulated lifesavers: my amazing critique partners, Ellen McGinty, Candace Kade, 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 lifetime explorer 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 currently resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband and three children.
Nova McBee, Simulated
