Simulated a calculated n.., p.7
Simulated: A Calculated Novel, page 7
Before I was taken, I never understood the stories where the victims didn’t want to tell their loved ones what happened to them. I do now. They were sparing them from nightmares and guilt. After we returned to Seattle, I told Dad only a fraction of what I’d gone through. I wish I hadn’t. Those dark nights of his have only recently stopped.
But my dad still thinks his little daughter returned yesterday. He doesn’t really know the fire-forged girl I’ve become, and honestly, I’m not sure he’s ready to see me—the real me—just yet.
I keep the thoughts that remind me of King or Madame to myself because most of them wouldn’t be appropriate to share at dinner. Nor would the things that were funny in the Pratt be funny here. And my family doesn’t speak Chinese, either. So often, I stay quiet. They interpret my quietness as a wounded spirit still needing restoration. Which is why asking to leave now feels like asking my dad to throw me back into cell 88.
I shove a heap of mashed potatoes in my mouth as I calmly answer questions about the job in Tunisia.
“It’s only seven days,” I explain. “We’ll be lodged in a secure government-protected building…and a swat team of bodyguards are assigned to us when we go out…” I trail off as Dad goes still and closes his eyes.
The dinner table is as silent as a mausoleum. Mara, Lily, and I are all watching Dad. He’s not eating. His eyes are closed and he’s massaging a crease down the center of his brow as he listens, methodically breathing in and out.
Mara silently pushes broccoli across her plate with the side of her fork. Lily slowly slices pieces of filet, watching Dad. I swallow and continue.
“It’s the most boring job in the world. Installing new security software, boosting performance, basic maintenance...”
“But it’s in Tunisia,” he reminds me. “Far away. On another continent.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Tunisia,” I add, as if that makes it any better.
Mara shoots me a look. Immediately I regret my comment—she’s right. It’s overkill.
Dad tears his eyes away from the mashed potatoes and looks straight at me. “You’ve mentioned Sicily, The Maldives, Chile. Not once have you talked about North Africa.”
I shrug, laughing it off. “What I meant was since I lived in Asia, traveling anywhere is exciting to me.”
“Jo, I’m your dad.” He narrows his eyes on mine. “Tell the truth.”
I sigh, considering his request. He deserves some honesty. “Fine, I know our six months aren’t up yet but I’m having cabin fever. I feel like my gift is getting worse because I’m feeling claustrophobic. Then I did something really stupid in my sims at PSS and lost a file that was important to them. So when this opportunity came up, I thought it might be a good way for me to pay back all the time and money they’ve invested in me. Ms. T won’t lie. Every job has a level of danger. So does going out your front door. This isn’t any different. But this time, I need to help.”
He studies me, weary lines showing around his mouth. Everything I said is true so I can stare back and not feel too guilty. I can’t tell him about Kai or the Hacker—that would make his heart stop. And technically, I can’t mention either—they’re classified.
“You know Ms. T’s new protocols for travel mean we’ll have a team of security guards,” I add.
“Yeah, she called me about that already. Goliath Guard Services. Goliath?” He shudders. “Doesn’t instill much confidence. I mean, come on. Everyone knows that story.”
I smirk. “Apparently they’re the best security service in North Africa,” I say, wondering what else Ms. T told him. “The bodyguards will be with us 24/7. From the minute I leave this house until I return, I’ll be fully protected and back before you know it.”
He shifts his feet under the table. “I’ve heard that before. How did that work out?” Dad is not convinced.
“I understand you’re worried,” I say gently. And I do. A part of me truly wants to comfort him but then there is another part where I want to scream. You’re my dad! You used to own a Fortune 500 company! You’re brave and strong—you risked everything to find me. And I’m just like you. I can’t sit still when someone I care about might be hurting!
I want him to wake up and face his fear. I want to show him the scar on my neck and tell him it’s not going away, but we got through it.
But I can’t. The look in his eyes is too fragile. I back off.
He sets his steak knife down. No one is eating.
“The capital is a mess right now,” he says. “Tunisia has a heated election coming up. Not exactly a great time.”
My eyebrows shoot up with surprise.
“What? You don’t think I read the news?” he says, shrugging.
“If you did, you’d know Tunisia is a democracy, an open free country and has been for years. It’s also tourist season.”
“Hmm.” He smashes potatoes with his fork. Surprisingly, he hasn’t said no but my arguments haven’t won him over yet.
“Dad,” Mara says, breaking her own silence. “I know you hate to hear this, but you have to stop trying to control everything. It’s been months. We’ve all felt like we’re on lockdown. It’s not healthy.”
He sits up, his face remorseful, peering up at his daughters. “Have I really been that bad?” All of sudden he’s listening to reason…from Mara?
“Dad, come on. You gave us seven p.m. curfews like we were ten years old. We all wear tracker earrings, and you call us every few hours. Jo and I are technically adults. Lily is 16 and can hardly have a life because you screen all the boys and then scare her into thinking they’re all potential kidnappers.”
Lily nods her head vigorously. “Dad, the last time Cullen came over you took his fingerprints. Now everyone at school thinks we’re freaks.”
“Good.” He beams. “Only the ones with nothing to hide will come over.”
“Dad,” Mara says in a stern voice. “You taught us to be resilient. Sure, we lost mom, and Jo for a while, but look what she accomplished in our absence. You can’t forget about who she became. She’s a hero who saved the world. Don’t you believe in her?”
Mara speaking about me like that fills me with courage because someone sees who I am. She’s spoken the words I’ve wanted to communicate for weeks but didn’t for fear of breaking Dad. He’s never had a chance to know the girl I became in China. Phoenix. The fire I lived through didn’t destroy me—it made me strong. At first, he was proud and applauded me. Then after we got home, fear took over. I was fourteen all over again. In his mind, he had failed to protect me, and he resolved never to let me be hurt again. He didn’t see that his loving protection was keeping me caged.
Mara places a hand tenderly on Dad’s shoulder. She’s matured so much during my absence. “I realize we still need to rebuild and repair our family, and there’s more to do. We’ll have time, but control and fear won’t lead us to a healthy place.”
I put my hand on Dad’s. “I’m not just a survivor, I’m a fighter. There’s a difference. You have to trust who I am.”
Dad inhales deeply and nods his head like he’s listening for the first time in three months.
In moments like this, I miss Red and what he taught. I imagine what he’d say to my father. When life doesn’t work out the way we think, and we end up in the dark, we have a choice—either stand up and keep going or cower in the darkness—but only one choice leads to the light. But Red’s gone, and my father has to make his own choices.
“Girls,” he finally says. “I’m sorry I treated you this way. I do believe in you. All of you.” He stands and walks toward the hallway leading to the den. “Just give me some time to think it over, OK? I’ll be out in a bit.”
Mara, Lily, and I wait until he’s gone before we say a word. As soon as his door clicks shut, I put my hands on the table and groan.
“Tell me the truth,” I say, “Am I killing Dad by springing this on him?”
Lily folds her napkin on the table. “To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t do it earlier.” Her phone rings. “It’s Cullen. If things go well tonight, maybe he’ll get to come over without surveillance.” She excuses herself and leaves the room. Mara and I are left with our cold potatoes.
I take another bite because I’ve learned to eat even when I don’t feel like it. It’s a survival habit. Those movies where the victim doesn’t eat don’t make sense to me anymore. I tried that once in the Pratt, and Red told me, Truth should dictate your actions, not emotion. One is a master, the other a servant. Then he added, And don’t let food slip past you ever again. The last thing you need is a weak body.
Besides, I’m still enjoying all these home cooked meals.
“He’s going to let you go,” Mara says breaking the silence. “I’ve watched Dad the last two years when you were gone. He’s just working up the courage to do what he knows he should do. It won’t be easy on him. Or us for that matter.” She sets her napkin down. “Jo, I see the fire burning in your eyes. Teaching math at the university won’t satisfy you. The person you’ve become is fierce, but still compassionate. Like mom. But you have to promise me, you’ll come back in seven days no matter what happens. Or I may become just like Dad.” Mara searches my eyes, seriousness creased in her brows.
Promises, no matter how many good intentions are packed into them, aren’t always up to the person making them. I think of Kai. He promises me all the time he’ll be ok. He promised PGF he’d stick to the mission, and well, he didn’t do that either. A sad smile pulls up on my face. “I’ll do everything I can to get back here safely.”
“You’re thinking about Kai now, aren’t you? It’s always the same look on your face when you talk about him,” Mara says, surprising the heck out of me. She’s more perceptive than I thought.
“Yeah.” Mara squeezes my elbow. It feels good to have a big sister again, always watching out for me.
“We’ve all noticed how unsettled you are every time Kai goes on a trip,” she says. “You miss him, don’t you?”
I nod. “A lot.”
“Do you love him?” she asks.
“I…” I’m not sure what to say. Kai has told me he loved me since China. But I’ve never said it back to him. I’ve always hesitated. I don’t know why. I’ve been trying to figure that out. He saved me, he knows me, he understands me. I admire and respect him, and can’t think of a better guy, and yet the words won’t come out of my mouth, like there’s something blocking them. But now, I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him and he didn’t know how I felt. Mara sees my discomfort and changes the subject.
“It’s ok not to know.” Mara smiles. “What will Kai think about you going to Tunisia?” Mara is too smart for her own good, or she’s my sister for a reason, as Red would say. She’s been watching me. She’s noticed I’ve needed Kai and he hasn’t been here. I turn my head to the side and look out the window, knowing that someone I trust needs to know about Kai.
“Mara?” I say, my voice low. “I have to tell you something. But you can’t tell Dad or Lily until it’s over.”
Mara stares back at me, full of fire. Her eyes are not like Dad’s. They believe in me in a way only a sister can. We’ve come a long way. Dad couldn’t handle all the stories, so I never told him details. But Mara was different. She wanted to hear it. It wasn’t much, but I told her about the abuse, the underwater torture, punching Chan in the nose. The fights I saw. The cold nights. She hated hearing my hard stories, clung to me, and held me with tears. I let her. It restored our relationship, but for her it was something different. It made her brave. It taught her she could overcome. It made her want to be stronger, better. My stories built her up. Mara has already proven she can handle whatever I tell her. She deserves to know what her sister is really doing. And the truth, in case something goes wrong.
“If you promise it doesn’t involve smugglers, I won’t talk.”
“Kai has gone dark. He left his mission. No one knows where he is or if he’s alive. But there’s a lead in Tunisia. PSS is going to retrieve a file that has been stolen by a hacker.” I shake my head. “But I’m going to find Kai. And to figure out how all of this is connected.”
Mara gasps. “So this isn’t some boring trip after all.”
“I have to go,” I say. “I believe he’s alive and that I can help him.”
“Jo…” She tightens her fist around her napkin, face as stern as Dad’s.
“I know. But, Mara, if anything happens to Kai, I’ll never forgive myself for not trying.”
Mara snags my hands and squeezes. “I understand. When Dad wanted to move to Asia because he thought you were alive, we thought it was slightly extreme, but we agreed. And you were there. Then I met Chan for the first time and had no idea how you could go head-to-head with that guy. The world wouldn’t be the same without you. Literally. And if Kai needs you, you should go.”
“You won’t say anything to Dad?” I ask.
“I swear.” Mara draws me into a hug. “This is who you are, Jo. Don’t run from it.”
“Thanks.” I hug her and K2 beeps. Harrison is waiting.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I have a hacker to find.”
Chapter Twelve
In my bedroom, I sit at my desk and connect my PSS earrings to K2. Instantly Harrison is in my ear. “I’m here. What do you need?”
“Send out a signal for me with an IRC,” I say, opening my computer. “I just want to ask him a question.”
“Are you sure?” Harrison asks. “I can’t track him if he enters your sims.”
“Don’t do it through my sims. Do it through a public line.”
“Fine,” Harrison says. “I’ll send out an invitation for the hour. If he doesn’t reach out, I’m pulling the channel.” I’m about to object when he adds. “Don’t forget what he did to us earlier, Jo. I’m making sure he won’t steal your identity and fry the remaining bones of PSS. If we want to do things right, we do it my way. I’m putting trackers on every signal I set up. I want to capture any trace of his IP or DNS I can. These kinds of hackers have a base somewhere. That’s what we need to locate.”
“Fine. You do your thing. I need to check on something else.”
Harrison signs off and I hop on to ‘the street’ or Wall Street where a month ago Kai and I set up a hidden portal behind our accounts within the website. Basically, it’s a way to chat that no one else can access, where he and I can secretly and safely send messages to each other while he’s on a job. We also created ciphers to communicate in case of emergency; if something’s wrong, we invest in a certain stock from his father’s company.
My fingers glide over keys and passwords but I find nothing in either of our accounts. I scroll the different pages looking for hidden messages behind each page. An anomaly catches my eye. There’s been activity here that’s not in our usual code. I go to invest in the ‘emergency stock’ when to my surprise, I’ve already made four miniscule investments today. Except I haven’t.
Naturally, I look for a connection between them, and there is none. Even my messages have stock reports I didn’t request. Someone is hacking my account. I can only guess who.
I go ahead and invest anyway, then use our portal to ask Kai how he is. Then I push my computer away and lie on my bed. All I can do is wait and make sure I don’t grind my teeth into nubs.
Very slowly, my mind drifts to sim one, and that old journal. My father sold our old house, but he kept all my stuff. I wonder if that journal is packed away somewhere. I go to my closet and pull out a box labeled “Jo’s Journals”. Under a heap of notebooks full of equations and diaries full of grief, I find it. The bubbly, hopeful journal I kept on my desk as a 13-year-old. I open it up to the middle. The postcard of the famous Mandelbrot Fractal falls out and into my lap. The chaotic, infinite design on the front stares back at me. I wait for my gift to flicker like it did in the sim, but the card is lifeless. I wonder why this image sparked it earlier. Thumbing over the colors, still vibrant even though it’s been in a box for four years, I decide to turn it over. I’m instantly hit with emotion.
Digits,
This is the Mandelbrot Set, also nicknamed the Thumbprint of God. This tiny fractal changed the world, you know. It showed us all that even in chaos, there is calculation. It’s become somewhat of an anchor for me. No matter how rough, chaotic, infinitesimal or untamed life appears, this simple trace of order always leads me back to hope.
In a world of chaos, you’re my fractal.
Yours,
Mandel (Son of a Mandelbrot)
A wave of goosebumps tingle over me, followed by nostalgia poured out like warm sun. His small note crushes me. We understood each other in a way no one else did. And that week he needed me. His parents, who were already cruel, were harder on him than usual. Far from my parents who allowed me to learn in my own way, they controlled his every move and never allowed mistakes. They required too much, used him for their own recognition, forced him into situations that made him uncomfortable. The pressure was too much, and no one understood him. But I did. He had a heart of gold. I remember when he reached out, how broken he was that week. “Sorry,” he apologized. “You’re the only safe person I can think of to talk to.”
“I’ll always be here for you,” I told him. Too bad that wasn’t true.
Sharp and numerical memories of him crawl under my skin as a smile climbs to my face. “My master classes are scary,” my thirteen-year-old self confided in Mandel. “The older students are intimidating.”
“No way, I’m sure it’s the other way around,” he’d comforted me. “Tell them that you completed a course in mechanical engineering in 4th grade. That’ll work.” His words made me laugh.
Once, we made a plan to act like we’d “lost” our gifts so we’d be free. We’d be nobodies who traveled the world. He’d voyage by sand and I’d go by water. We’d find each other in the middle, navigating by the stars like they did in the old days. New maps and books would be written under old grumpy names, like Edna and Orwell. No one would be the wiser.
