Reclaiming Shilo Snow Page 14

  Shilo’s voice was squealing, and Sofi was chasing him. “Watch us, Mama! Watch us!”

  “I’m watching!” Inola had laughed and the vid jiggled as she’d chased after them with it.

  Now Inola turned away from the tele, picked hot tea from the wall dispenser amid the soft glow of the cream wall lights, and let their voices simmer in her mind. Those voices she’d missed out on too often over too many years because she’d been so busy saving the world.

  But maybe the greatest thing wasn’t always to be the savior or victor. Maybe it was to care for the others who one day might be saviors or victors or leaders.

  She turned to look out over the city. So whose fault is it, CEO Inola? Maybe saving the world was simply showing love and mercy to others in the belief that love would penetrate the hearts of those touched—and illuminate inside their skin until it altered every belief and view and ability they had—to become a campaign of love that overrode the hate and fear and darkness.

  Loving our fellow man.

  Maybe that’s what she’d been too busy missing . . .

  With a last glance out the window in the direction of the black markets, Inola shut the sound to the recordings off and went to her wide desk beneath the giant painting of Ella and took a seat. With the private in-box of the attorney general staring back at her.

  She set down her tea. And began to make a video, detailing every aspect of her involvement in the Delonese project. Since day one.

  How she, Inola Snow, had taken it upon herself to assist the Delonese in rebooting their race—in the form of letting them take cells from Earth children, to grow in labs. And in turn she’d ensured those labs helped humanity.

  How it’d started with Delon taking five orphans eight years ago to extract a few cells, inject a few of their own, and send them back to Earth—dropping them in cornfields for Inola’s people to find while keeping it random enough to prevent others from connecting her Corp with them.

  How she’d started a school to protect and assess them. And how they did the same with a second batch of five children six months later, and then a third test group that included her own kids, taken from her farm, the day following Ben’s death. She’d honored his wishes until then. After that, she honored her own.

  How both her kids had been cured of ailments.

  And then how the deaths had begun. The test-subject kids simply keeled over one by one within a matter of months. All except for Sofi and Shilo, who, failing to exhibit any unique traits over the next few years, had been considered failed too.

  And how from there on out, she’d revised the program to allow the Delonese twenty kids a year for cell extraction only, with the condition they return them for her to monitor. In exchange, her company experienced years of medical success—and the children had been none the wiser thanks to the memory erasures. And how if it meant reversing the centuries’ worth of DNA modifications that had rendered the aliens sterile, then it also meant they could prevent humans from repeating the same mistake.

  Until her two children began displaying unexplainable symptoms. An ability to mentally connect with each other. To understand and manipulate Delonese technology. It’s partly why she’d started the FanFights—to prevent their own curiosity from catching Delonese attention. And to see just how far they could go using the nanobots and coding.

  Except, then rumors reached her ears that the Delonese were taking far more than the allotted twenty a year, and some of those kids weren’t making it back.

  And how that’d all led to Gaines’s bombing, due to Altered.

  And the cover-ups.

  She explained every bit of it. In detail. All the way through today’s vid conversation with Lord Ethos.

  There. It was all out in the open, spilling from her lips on the privacy of the vid. The same info she’d sent in one form or another to her life bank.

  But this vid—she placed it in the attorney general’s box.

  The Send button blinked at her.

  She clicked Hold.

  Closing the doc, she looked over to find the home vids had ended and the living room lights had come up, sending their glow across the white couches and gray carpet as the screen dimmed. She picked up her tea and flipped on the telenews to scan the latest on the FanFights and was promptly met by an advertisement for Altered.

  Nadine, Corp 24’s goodwill ambassador, was on the telescreen.

  Inola leaned back and studied the woman, chewing over how she’d practically been attacked by her outside Inola’s own office yesterday.

  Her brow dipped. What did Nadine know of all this? Inola assessed the tilt of her head, the level of trust in her eyes, her stance, her body language, with new interest. What was her connection with Ambassador Miguel—and was she in current contact with him?

  The ad suddenly panned out in an apparent repeat of the morning’s test run of the product on the FanFight players. Inola leaned in as, in the background, she noticed Hart and Gaines.

  She’d forgotten they’d been tested as well—at Nadine’s challenge, since they’d both so publicly opposed it. She sniffed and let a small smile play around her mouth. Sliding her fingers over her handscreen, she pulled up the secure number she kept for undocumented searches and sought out the i-reality star’s contact info. She assigned Nadine’s name to it. Then tucked it away in her private docs.

  The next moment the ad finished and the screen flashed its announcement hailing the FanFights end segment that had gone down in literal flames of fire and torches and a splendid amount of blood. The epic music soared as the screen panned in a circle to show the enormous crowd on its feet screaming for the victor, the victims, and all of the gamers.

  Matthers, Corp 13’s player appeared on the winner’s platform of the corporate players’ rounds, arms raised in triumph, as the announcer interviewed him about the last level and how it felt to have won it all. Followed by the camera moving to CEO Hart, who was being interviewed by Nadine.

  Inola turned up the sound.

  “How does it feel to have your Corp come out with first place, CEO Hart?”

  “Good. Wonderful.” The gentleman’s smile was magnanimous. “Of course, we knew he’d win. The whole team really—the gamers, the player, the audience voting in support of us—it’s just really been a wonderful experience all around.”

  “And yet you, me, and everyone else here knows that if that explosion hadn’t gone off, your team wouldn’t have won. How does that make you feel? That your players succeeded at the loss of actual lives?”

  Inola laughed out loud. Yes, she’d definitely have to contact this girl. She’d obviously written her off way too quickly when Nadine was in her face with that camera yesterday. She wasn’t afraid to oppose sides.

  Hart’s neck reddened but beyond that he refused to look ruffled. His smile stayed as poised as his tone. “Well, we can all agree, the loss of those lives was just tremendously unfortunate. A true blow to the gaming and FanFight community, to be sure.” He looked straight into the camera. “Which is why I’m relieved the UW is going after the culprits. Sofi Snow—I’m sure you’ve heard she’s now been labeled as the mastermind behind it. And Corp 24. Very sad. But we—”

  “Corp 24? I’m assuming this is all new intel, because the public’s not been officially informed Corp 24 was legally confirmed to blame, nor that Ms. Snow was the mastermind. Simply that they were under suspicion. Could you explain further, please?”

  “Well, obviously, we can’t say for certain yet. But I think when it’s all said and done, those will be the ones who must take responsibility for the bombing and murders. I mean, it’s only a matter of time—”

  Inola shook her head and controlled her hand from typing out a very uncouth message to him at this moment. Keep it clean, Inola. Give Sofi more time. Give us all more time.

  “So you being the winner by default is still good enough for you then?” Nadine interrupted. She turned to the camera. “In that case, I guess it’ll have to be good enough for the
rest of us. Thanks very much, CEO Hart. And now if you’ll excuse us—” She moved away from him to the edge of her interview hover so the viewer could get a full shot of the arena and stadium behind her. “I believe the audience has finished voting on the Final Five.”

  She pointed up to the overhead telescreens that were counting down the final minute of the votes.

  The music was chiming, script scrolling at the bottom in a similar countdown fashion as Nadine’s face came back on with that smooth-lipped smile that had earned her the position of most fetching i-reality star.

  “What a great interview with CEO Hart. And now that the Corp 13 team has officially conquered the third biannual FanFights, their player goes on to the final phase tomorrow. The final round will decide who is the Final Five FanFight champion for these Games!” Behind her, the audience burst into approval as, like an echo of Nadine, the announcer, Favio, said the same.

  Nadine waited for them to calm before continuing. “For those of you who need a refresher—this is the leg of our Games where a player can walk away or choose to compete for the chance of doubling their winnings! And as we expected, Corp 13 has informed us their team will compete! As well, the audience was tasked with picking any four citizens from around the world to pit against this player and his gamers in the ultimate battle of life and death. These players can agree or disagree to join—because the gloves come off and survival isn’t guaranteed. In fact”—she leaned into the camera—“rumored reports are this season’s finale is specifically about survival, so the stakes will be higher, as will the chance of death. But who can say no to all of you? So let’s see who our audience has chosen!

  “The audience-voted FanFight Final Five players—pulled from anyone—are as follows.” Nadine turned to look at the screen behind her as the names and faces were put up one at a time. “Corp 13’s player, Matthers Smith. Followed by the Icelandic Ambassador Alis.” Nadine’s voice sounded surprised.

  Inola paused midsip of her tea. Really?

  Her photo faded and a new one emerged. “Herron Zain, Corp . . .” The i-reality star’s tone dipped. “Corporation 24’s vice president and interim CEO.”

  Nadine cleared her throat. “Now, let me remind everyone that these suggestions can still decline—voted in or not. No one’s ever turned it down before, but there’s always a first!”

  She laughed halfheartedly, then looked at the next photo. And stalled before she said, “Inola Snow, president and CEO of Corp 30.”

  Inola stared in shock. In horror. What?

  “And to everyone texting in asking if the United World Corporations’ recent ban prohibiting Corps 24 and 30 from the Games stretches this far—according to the law experts now flooding my screen, both VP Zain and CEO Inola are considered individuals rather than attached to their Corporations for this level, just like any other superstar’s appearance. So the UWC will have to counter the wish of the masses if they want that ban upheld.”

  Inola blinked and shook her head as if she’d heard wrong. There must be a mistake—or at least a mistake in Nadine’s wording. She glanced at the pic on-screen. It was of Inola. And the announcer in the background was saying the same thing.

  Oh gad. What was the audience doing? What had they done?

  This was beyond gaming. This was . . .

  “And . . .” The photo changed to the final frame, and the i-reality star hesitated as if unsure of what she was seeing. Then a soft whisper—“Me. Nadine.” She blinked and looked up at the camera, her face pale.

  This was a culling.

  20

  SOFI

  Sofi started forward with a cry. Shilo.

  She went to grab him and run from this crazy Delonese-filled room, but before she could, he put up a hand.

  Sofi frowned. What? Why?

  Something bumped her, and suddenly Alis was peering in her face. “Anything wrong?”

  Sofi blinked and stared at the lady’s lovely bald head and wide eyes and false smile. She opened her mouth to reply. Then glanced back at her brother.

  “Don’t,” Shilo said.

  Alis followed her gaze to where Shilo stood and scanned the area around him. Her features didn’t alter—didn’t register him at all.

  Sofi frowned. Oh.

  It was the same as earlier—the voice she kept hearing in her eircom and head. Guiding her. It’d been his voice. And now it’d morphed into full-on visions of him. And here she thought she’d survived alright. When, in fact, she’d been gradually going insane.

  “Listen, Sof.”

  That or this was another game the Delonese were playing in her mind, or perhaps her heart was playing all on its own, but either way . . .

  “Sof.”

  Everything inside her ached to respond. His voice and twelve-year-old face were too real, too familiar, too close to where she was standing. She wanted to go home to their southern farm and August skies and hide him from this giant cracked-up universe.

  Instead, she peeled her gaze away and ignored the flaring homesickness. You’re not real.

  “Just listen to me,” he said.

  She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to hang on to that sanity for what still needed to be done.

  She turned back to Miguel—only to find the expression on his face blank.

  “Ambassador Miguel.” Alis had turned to smile at him. “Ethos and I were just discussing how Sofi here broke into their systems yesterday.”

  Miguel’s empty stare broke. He smirked and eyed her. “Did she now?” He winked. “One might wonder if her abilities are so skilled in other arenas as well.”

  Sofi slowed and frowned, then peered around to see who was listening. What had he heard? Who had caught on to them that he was now suddenly playing along with Alis’s game?

  “We talking about gaming the systems?” Claudius said, striding up. “We’re all ears, girl.”

  “Some of us more than others.” Miguel chuckled.

  Sofi shook her head. What was going on?

  “Yes, won’t you share with us?”

  She didn’t know, she started to tell them. She just knew Shilo’s heartbeat was growing louder and louder—hammering in her ears, in her teeth, in the back of her head. And Miguel . . .

  What was wrong with him?

  He’d shifted his rapt attention onto Claudius and Danya. The perfect picture of ease.

  “Sofi, you need to focus—”

  She turned back to Shilo beneath the hazy lights and domed ceiling, except he wasn’t there. She swerved in a circle, searching between the swaying bodies and faces.

  A movement pulled her attention. The ten Delonese had moved closer. All watching. Waiting.

  “Can you see it, Sofi?” Shilo said.

  See what? What did they want?

  She blinked and her brother had reappeared. He tipped his head toward Ethos, who was now staring at her with a look of deep concern. Ethos’s face went grainy, then cleared.

  “Can you see it?”

  Who? Ethos?

  Sofi pinched her arm as hard as she could and only succeeded in drawing strange looks from Claudius and Miguel. The latter of whom she stared at a moment, then strode over to him. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  He glanced around. “I’m not sure I’ll be good company at the moment, what with all the noise in here, but far be it from me to turn down a lady’s—”

  “Miguel, what’s going on?” she hissed.

  “Not quite following, love. We’re just here having a party.”

  No.

  She tried not to notice the way his smile looked stuck in place.

  The way his eyes had stopped blinking . . .

  No, no, no, no. “Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t do this. Don’t you dare leave me alone here too. Why are you acting like this? Who’s listening?”

  The frown he gave her would’ve been heartbreaking enough if it hadn’t been followed by a gentle look of pity. Both of which were genuine. She’d seen them before. Even more than that—she knew
them because she knew him.

  “Miguel, please, I can’t do this alone.” Her voice broke. “I need your help. The kids need your help.” She reached out and touched his arm.

  He covered her hand with his and grinned. “I’m beginning to think you had a little too much to drink, yes?”

  “I don’t know what they did to you, but I need you to remember.”

  “Remember this party? I can do that.”

  “Girl-Sofi, we’re running out of time. We need to know how you understood our codes.”

  She pulled back. Bit her lip. And with a last small smile, pressed her hand to Miguel’s heart. Willing him to remember himself.

  To remember her.

  “How did you know the technical language?” Alis asked.

  “Who helped you?” another challenged.

  The voices were everywhere now. Ethos’s louder than the rest. He looked up at the ten Delonese watching. “Dig deeper. Don’t stop until you’ve found the answer,” he said to them. Then his face flickered and reappeared full force as streams of data ran across his cheeks and through her vision. They were data from Delonese comp codes.

  A recollection emerged in Sofi’s mind of deciphering the code yesterday in the room with Vic and Heller. Then creating work-arounds in their own language that were similar to the tech she’d used in the FanFight Games. It had always just made sense. The images blended into another memory, then another, until they all turned into electrical pulses and numbers that were gathering around her and trailing through the room’s atmosphere, the Delonese bodies, and overly bright colors that were suddenly fading to gray.

  “Can you see it?” Shilo asked again in her head.

  She gritted her teeth. Like a word on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t quite grab, the images were there. Turning and taunting. They flooded her vision—the numbers, characters, codes, reaching up to a frenzied pitch.