Aura aura jax 1, p.15
Aura (Aura Jax #1), page 15
“Here,” she says, handing me a glass of dark green gloop. “Drink it. You'll feel better.”
I eye it with suspicion. “What is it?”
“Vitamins, minerals, fiber. All the good stuff.”
Reluctantly I drink it down, trying not to gag. It tastes like soil and weeds.
“Thanks for that,” I grimace.
“Don't mention it,” she winks, sitting down opposite me. “There's oatmeal on the stove.”
My stomach grumbles in anticipation.
“Where's your dad?” I ask, dragging myself up to get the oatmeal.
“His study,” she says. “He's pretty excited by the progress you're making. Although he said he practically threw you out of the White Room yesterday to get some rest…”
I ladle some oatmeal into a bowl. “I just lost track of time.”
The way I see it, the more time I spend in the VR pod, the less time I have to spend thinking about Dad's execution.
“Just don't go overboard. We can't afford you getting sick.”
I carry my bowl back to the table and give her a half-hearted salute. “Yes, boss.”
I stir sugar into my oatmeal and try a spoonful. It's warm and comforting. I feel more normal with every bite.
Neeve watches me as if I'm an animal in a zoo. “I'm going to head to your sister's camp in a couple of days. If you want to send her a message, I can take it with me.”
I look up at the mention of Selena. “Can I come with you?”
She raises an eyebrow. “If you ask me again after the next bout of training, I might just let you.”
An hour later, I'm back in the White Room, ready to tackle Level Two.
“In this simulation, you'll meet the Elite,” Edward explains, powering up the VR Pods. “Did you have much to do with them while you were in The Society?”
“A little,” I say, thinking of Seb. “Mostly, I tried to avoid them.”
He nods. “This session is quite different from the last one. It will be noisy, and busy. There will be plenty to distract you while you try to concentrate. Your goal is to insert a thought into the mind of one of the holograms. Because they are Elite, their thought imprints are much more complex than a CSO's imprint, but the aim here isn't to blast them into a heap – you'll need to influence them to do what you want them to do.”
“Sounds simple enough,” I say, with a touch of sarcasm.
I step into the harness, and my mind goes back to my encounter with Mum yesterday.
“Edward, is there any circumstance where you could see a real person in a simulation?” I ask as he checks my harness.
He frowns. “The simulation is just a simulation – it's not real. Why do you ask?”
“Well, when Neeve took me into the Vocation Party, I saw my mum. She spoke to me. Tried to warn me about something. She grabbed my wrist. I felt it.”
He shakes his head. “No, it's not possible. Have you ever had a particularly vivid dream? It's the same thing. Your mother has been on your mind, that's all. It's perfectly understandable.”
“But it's not the only time it's happened. The day I got motion sickness in the simulation, the technician in the server room seemed to recognize me. He looked right at me and I could see him – his features were clear to me, not like the other holograms.”
Edward stops what he's doing. “How do you feel when you think about going into The Telepathe?” he asks.
I think for a moment. "It scares me to death."
“There is your problem.” He snaps his fingers. “Fear interrupts the processes in our brains. Your fear of the unknown is affecting every thought you have, whether you're aware of it or not. You need to let it go.”
If only it were that easy. “How do I do that?”
“Knowledge is power,” he says. “When mystery and ambiguity surround fear, it is much harder to conquer. The more you train, and the more you understand your fears, the less they will have a hold on you.”
I want to believe his explanation, but I have a bruise on my arm where Mum grabbed me, and after my encounter with the simulated Cog, I know enough to know that simulations don't leave bruises.
“Right,” he claps his hands together, mistaking my silence for mollification. “Shall we see how you get on?”
I decide to drop the subject. I have work to do.
“I'm ready.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I hear Edward enter the control room. The lights go down around me.
Open your eyes.
I'm in the back of a cab, squashed between two holograms – a boy and a girl. There's another male hologram in the passenger seat up front. Out of the windows, I can see that it's dark outside.
The boy next to me knocks back a handful of DN8 pills and hands me the bottle.
“I'm good, thanks,” I say.
“Are you for real?” the girl says. “Elliott, where did you find this Goody Two Shoes?” Her voice is shrill. Her elbow digs into my side.
“You're embarrassing me in front of everybody,” the boy, ‘Elliott’ whines.
“Fine, hit me.” I hold out a hand for the pills and pop them into my mouth. I have the sensation they are slithering down my throat.
“Right. Now it’s a party!” the boy up front whistles.
I try to get a handle on the three unique thought imprints around me, but as I reach out to connect with them, they slip away.
It’s not like listening in to the Workers or Cogs that I usually encounter; instead, it feels like I'm trying to catch raindrops with my bare hands.
The cab slows to a stop, and the four of us climb out into the night.
Right away, I know where I am.
The bass-heavy thump of electronic music drifts out from a nearby bar and the smell of stale alcohol and greasy food fills the air. Battered neon signs flicker in the semi-dark.
We’re in the ghetto, in the Old City.
A few years ago, Reece and I started bringing my DN8 to the ghetto to swap for extra food, but we didn't hang around for long. It wasn't safe.
Besides the addicts and beggars who decorate the pavement in the ghetto, the place was always teeming with off-duty Cogs and Elite kids slumming it in the bars and strip clubs hidden away here, far away from the Golden Belt.
True to life, this ghetto is alive with the holograms of beggars, Cogs, and Elite. The simulation is startlingly realistic.
I have to quit admiring Edward's code and turn my attention back to the three holograms from the cab.
I can sense them at the periphery of my mind, but that's not good enough.
“Got any change?”
We all turn to see a boy of about sixteen lying in a doorway, dressed in his pajamas.
“Let's see,” the girl from the cab says and the boy from the passenger seat sniggers.
She roots around in her purse and takes out a fifty-dollar note, holding it aloft in front of the boy.
“Oh, thanks! Thank you!” The boy starts to get up, but before he can take the money, the girl steps back, holding out her other hand to Passenger Seat Boy. He places a small silver lighter on her palm.
Time to intervene, Aura.
It’s no use trying to connect with all of the holograms at once, so I focus on the girl.
It’s like banging my head against a wall.
Her mind is solid. Closed. Impenetrable.
I can feel her energy. I can sense her thought imprint, but there's no way in.
The Cogs’ minds are like thick, dark treacle; hers is a locked door.
“Thank you, Jared.” She flips the lid and a little orange flame dances in the dark.
Pressure starts to build in my head as I struggle to make a connection.
The girl holds the flame to the corner of the note.
“Wait!” the boy protests. ‘Jared’ grabs him by the shoulders, pushing him back down, making him watch. Elliott snickers as if it's the funniest thing he's ever seen.
I swallow back bile.
This isn’t working.
Maybe if I can get her thoughts to turn to me, I'll be able to find a way in.
“Leave him alone!” I shout, reaching out a hand to help the boy in the pajamas, but Elliott grabs me and pulls me back. “It's just a bit of fun,” he warns.
I have the girl's attention for a second, but no more.
The note burns.
Why isn't it working?
I try to block everything else out. Forget the boys, the beggar, the noise, the lights. All that matters is the hologram of the girl.
It's as if her thoughts are trapped behind thick glass. I can see them, but I can't get to them.
“Once I gave some money to a man just like you,” the girl is saying to the boy in the pajamas. “Do you know what he did with it?”
The boy shakes his head, his eyes watering from the smoke.
“He spent it all on Ice,” she says. “Every single cent. So much Ice that he overdosed.”
Stars dance in front of my eyes.
And then my mind connects with hers, like two magnets snapping together.
Heat floods my body.
I'm inside her mind. It's like a maze; all sharp edges and dark corners.
“I wouldn't spend it on Ice. I swear,” says the boy.
Now, Aura.
Let him go. I form the suggestion and wait for it to settle into her consciousness.
The seconds slow down and I feel her wrestling with her conscience, testing out the new thought, wondering where it has come from. She looks around for reassurance.
Elliott and Jared are more than willing to provide it.
The thought I planted melts away.
I could scream in frustration.
The boy is coughing now. The burning note is right up in front of his face. The smell of smoke is everywhere.
“Money can't buy you happiness,” the girl is saying. “Look at me. I've got lots of money, and I'm the saddest girl in the world.” The boy recoils as she leans in and kisses his cheek.
The world starts to tilt. I sway, briefly wondering if Edward is still monitoring me.
I take one last shot.
At the edges of my memory, I can see a command word dancing on a page, the black-and-white lettering merging into a gray blur as I fell asleep.
Desino.
The effort makes me gasp, but the command hits its mark.
The girl visibly flinches, dropping the charred note at the beggar's feet and backing up.
The world comes rushing back to me. I close my eyes and lean against the side of the pod, trying not to vomit.
Open your eyes.
That's the last thing I hear before I collapse.
Chapter 29
I heave into the bucket beside my bed and bring up more bile. “Is this normal?” I ask.
“We're in uncharted territory, I'm afraid,” Edward says, passing me some tissues. “We need to tread carefully. You've gone sixteen years without using your Gift; it's taking some time for your body to adjust.”
My hands shake as I wipe my mouth. “How long have I been out this time?”
“Two days.”
I look at him in shock, trying to work out what day it is, how long I've got to get ready.
“We still have 20 days before the Assembly,” he says, seeing my distress.
“And what if that's not enough time?”
He hands me a glass of water. “Have faith,” he says.
An image of Dad in front of a firing squad surrounded by TV cameras flashes into my head. I need a bit more than faith.
“The command word you used in the last simulation,” Edward says, interrupting my reverie. “Where did it come from?”
“I found it in one of your books. Why?”
“That may be what triggered such a negative response in you. Command words can be… unnatural for your mind to process. I'd rather you didn't use them again. Certainly not in training.”
I take a swig of the water, whirl it around in my mouth and spit it out into the bucket. “It was a last resort.”
“Remember, you are an Influencer. You can influence thought and behavior through the suggestions you make with your mind.”
“Maybe there should have been a level in between one and two,” I say, wiping my mouth. “Going from the Cogs and the boy in Level One to that was a bit of a leap.”
He frowns. “What boy?”
“The boy in the cell.”
He doesn't say anything.
“Edward? What's wrong?”
“This boy… what did he look like?”
I shrug, thinking back. “He had black hair. He was nine, or ten, maybe? He said it was his birthday. Why?”
There's the slightest pause before he answers. “No reason.” His smile looks forced.
The bedroom door opens an inch and Neeve peers in. “I have more green gloop if you want it,” she says, holding the disgusting mixture aloft.
Edwards stands up. “I'll leave you to it,” he says, patting my shoulder as he exits the room.
“Are you okay?” Neeve asks once he's gone. “You look confused.” She hands me the glass.
“I'm fine. Just wiped out like you said I'd be.”
“About that,” she says. “I went to the camp yesterday. To drop off some supplies.”
My heart sinks. I can't believe I slept through it. “Did you see Selena?” I rub the back of my neck. “How's she doing?”
“She's fine. They all are.” She hands me a folded piece of paper. “She gave me this for you.”
“Thanks.” I clutch it like a lifeline.
“When you're ready, come upstairs. We need to get some more food into you.”
When Neeve has gone, I open up the letter. As I read the familiar words in Selena's scrawly handwriting, tears fill my eyes.
It’s a poem dad used to recite to us when we were little.
If you think you are beaten, you are,
If you think you dare not, you don't.
If you'd like to win, but you think you can't,
It is almost a cinch – you won't.
If you think you'll lose, you've lost,
For out in this world we find
Success begins with a fellow's will
It's all in the state of mind.
If you think you're outclassed, you are,
You've got to think high to rise.
You've got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win the prize.
Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man;
But sooner or later the girl who wins
Is the one who thinks she can!
I wipe my eyes and put the precious scrap of paper under my pillow, then I shuffle down the bed and sleep soundly for the first time in days.
Chapter 30
Edward's voice crackles through the speakers: “Take a seat, both of you.”
We're back in the White Room. The VR pods are shrouded in black cloth. Edward has set up two chairs, one at either side of the room. Leather restraints hang loose at the arms and feet of each chair.
“Don't worry; you won't be strapped in,” Edward says, seeing my expression.
I sit down and face Neeve, who is already seated with her eyes closed. She clearly knows what we're doing.
There's a loud clang, followed by an industrial whirring sound as a transparent screen is lowered from the ceiling.
I stand up, on my guard. “What's going on?”
“Soundproofing,” Neeve shouts over the noise. "It's important that we don't hear each other."
“We're going to leave the simulations out of the equation for today,” Edward says, “and begin work on Level Three of your training.”
Level Three means no more holograms – instead, I'll be using my Gift on Neeve.
Or at least trying to.
I sit back down and the screen descends, slowly splitting the room in half. It stops at the floor with a soft crunch. Then there is silence.
I feel trapped, like a creature in a tank.
“Aura, I want you to focus very carefully on Neeve.” Edward's voice fills the enclosed space around me. “Clear your mind of everything else.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“The aim of this session is to insert a suggestion into Neeve's mind,” Edward says. “Something simple. ‘Stand up,’ for instance.”
In the quiet dark, I become aware of my heart beating strong and steady, aware of my breath moving in through my nose, filling my lungs, and coming out through my mouth.
I sense another pattern of thought, an imprint that isn't my own, resonating just out of reach. Neeve.
As I sit there in the silence, I begin to hear the thoughts rushing around in her head like undulating pieces of static, impossible to pin down. There's nothing concrete for me to grasp.
Exhausted, I fall out of my trance, breathing heavily.
I see Neeve is still sitting on her stool, head down, eyes closed.
I let my vision become blurred and slow my breathing as I fall into the trance again.
Neeve.
My head pounds as I try to navigate the emptiness between us, inching closer to her frequency. Something shifts inside my head.
I think I've found a way in.
For a moment, the disparate jumble of thoughts and the buzz of static that surrounds her becomes clear to me.
It's working.
Stand up.
I can feel her actively pushing me away, trying to close herself off.
Stand up.
The static returns.
I get up off the chair and pace around the room, seeing stars in front of my eyes. This is excruciating.
“Try not to get frustrated,” Edward says.
I'd forgotten he was there.
“We've spoken telepathically before,” I say, breathless. “Shouldn't this be easier?”
“Telepathy and influencing someone are two very different things,” he says. “And Neeve is a Prophet. Learning to influence members of the Triptych was never going to be easy.”
I remember what he told me when I first came here: “Everyone has a unique thought imprint, and some are more complex than others.” After my encounters with the Elite in the previous simulation, I can't even imagine the complexity of a Prophet's mind.
