Greyson

Zipper’s slunk into Bryn’s lap during the sharing and the bot’s twitching her ears at me. I’ve no clue what she’s hinting. The rapport I won last night’s gone and now I can’t figure out what to say.

Something nice, Zipper says with an eye-bulb roll, then tap-bumps her head against Bryn’s leg, purring real loud.

“You alright?” I roll-rock from my heels to my knees so I’m closer. She glances up. I imagine her eyes would be wide and unblinking behind her modes, and she half-shrugs.

“I’m fine,” she says so softly I’ve to lean closer. She smells like disinfectant and musty cinnamon. “I know I shouldn’t be though. That’s what’s wigging me out.” She huffs out a lungful of air, pushing her braids back from her face in a heaving whoosh. “This person cared for me, loved me even, and there’s just nothing there.”

“So what now?” After last night I thought, well … I thought we’d be halfway to figuring it all out.

Patience, Greyson, Zipper warns. She’s confused. Anyone would be when your memories are played with like that.

We fiddle with our memories all the time, Zip.

Yes, the important word there is we. For Bryn, it’s become a they. Someone else has gotten into her head and taken something from her that she may never get back.

She’ll be fine, and I know Bryn’s strong. Little frayed around the edges maybe. I imagine I look more than frayed myself.

Bryn’s gone subvocal. She said, ‘Why do you want to help me?’

I’ve forgotten she doesn’t remember.

“The notebook mentions my pa, Professor Thaddeus Ward. He died supposedly in an accident, but something more is going on.” I want her to comfort me again, like last night. Maybe even touch my hand. She doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she says and that’s something at least.

“It’s fine.” I rub my neck, stopping myself from pushing up my modes. Glitch, they pinch. “The notebook’s key.”

“So who do you know reads handwriting?”

I half-shrug dunno.

She sighs real heavy, as if she’s got it hard. “Guess we should find someone who does then. You know,” she says, as she stands up, picking pieces of grass off her leggings, “you’re not the first person to ask me about my brother today.”

I glance sharp at her, letting Zipper climb my leg and settle in my hood. “Legit?”

“Yeah, Lenora Rey called this morning,” she says. “Come on, I left the box in my room.”

“What she want?” Black’s in, even on L5, but I still stand out like a bald man at a hairdresser’s. Whether Bryn knows, she keeps a clear few feet between us. How do they handle not touching? Being disconnected like this? I feel weightless, an uncomfortableness, as if there isn’t anything to anchor me down and I’m going to float on up to the ceiling and get stuck among the pipes and cables, the vessels and veins of the station.

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Are you paying attention? Zipper snaps, bumping her nose against the back of my neck and sending a bitty electrical pulse, making me jerk. Bryn said, ‘Lenora wanted to meet with Jonas. Thought she had the wrong person.’

“Call her,” I say and Bryn startles, increasing the distance between us as if what I am is catching.

And that’s another thing about up here. It’s real quiet. Scary so. There’s the squeak-scuff of shoes. The creak-creak-creak of wheels as a red-bright motor-carriage trundles past. The ever constant hum-drone of the station. But no voices, no convos – hush-whispers maybe. It’s like the volume’s turned way down.

I lengthen my steps so I’m closer and don’t need to yell.

“Why she remember?” I ask, dropping the ‘when you don’t’. Bryn shrugs, all noncommittal-like.

She said, ‘My place’s just up ahead’.

“I know,” I say.

That didn’t sound creepy at all, Zipper snorts.

Mute it, Zip. I pull my sleeves over my hands and cross my arms as a thick-ankled woman in high heels fair deliberate crosses the street to avoid me. I waggle my tongue at her and her steps quicken as if I’ve sent her a glitching virus.

Bryn bounces up her front steps and the house unlocks, says hello. Ma loved how our old house did that.

“Take a seat. I’ll get the box.” Bryn points to the kitchen and vanishes right quick down the hall.

“Pish-posh place,” I say to Zipper. Last night I hadn’t had much time to take it all in. I settle on a bench stool, the tabletop switch‑flickers on. It looks like a pond. “Spacy.”

You live in a shoebox. Of course it is. The fish are a nice touch, she comments, leaping off my shoulder and skittering across the screen as she chases them.

“Zip,” I hiss, “you’re going to scratch it!”

“Got it,” Bryn says as she returns and drops the black box on the table, creating ripples.

“The key’s …” I reach out, my fingers bare brushing her hair when she grasps it, stepping back from me.

“I’ll do it.” It fits into the lock perfect-like, and she lifts the lid, handling the green notebook with her fingertips. “That’s it?” She rests it on the table, flicking through it with a frown. “It’s nonsense.” She turns another page. “What’s this?”

I lean in, Zipper padding over after one last smack at a fat goldfish, and we study the diagram under her tap-tapping finger. It’s a circle drawn in thick black ink, full of odd shapes, overlapping and fitting together puzzle-like, or they’re meant to. The shapes don’t fit perfectly in the lines.

I shrug. “Call Lenora. She could help.”

“She’s popular.” Bryn tugs on her bottom lip. “What are the chances she’ll even take my call?”

“Try,” I say, though I’ve doubts too. Someone like Lenora, you know, wouldn’t bother with anyone from a level lower than three.

Bryn tap-taps her right thumb and forefinger together and tilts her head at me. “Are you going to join?”

“Umm.” My hand flits to my modes and her lips twitch. She must reckon my modes are too low tech.

“Right, I’ll run it through Home.” The call actually connects.

“Hello, Bryn,” a crystal-pure voice greets, echoing off the walls. “I was not expecting to hear from you.”

“Hi, Miss Rey. Things have changed and I think we can help each other.” Bryn twirls a braid around a finger. It’s hypnotic.

“How so?” Lenora asks. I wave at Bryn, gesturing her attention to the tabletop where I text, DON’T TRUST THE LINK. CAN SHE MEET US?

“Are you free to see us?” We wait as Lenora ponders.

“That can be arranged. Where?”

“Level Five,” Bryn says as I text a location. “At the school.”

“In the real?” Clear she wants something real bad cos she continues, “I’m free in half an hour. I’ll meet you at the school entrance.”

“What’s she want?” I ask after the call ends.

Bryn shrugs. “I don’t care, but I bet this’ll improve my rank for sure!” she grins. “I’m going to change outfits. Be right back!”

Rank? Is that what she’s thinking about? Zipper says. She pins a fish to the table and it squirms, splashing about. Last night Bryn had been a different person. Scared and upset, but more complete, you know? Now she’s an echo of herself.

She’s changed. I slump into my seat. Rank’s more important now.

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