Logging Off by McKenna Caitlin

Author:McKenna, Caitlin [McKenna, Caitlin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novel
Published: 2013-11-29T04:00:00+00:00

8

April 14, 2095

Harry Tremington wiped the sweat off his palms with an old rag before untying the bouquet of balloons from the handle of his mobile door. He was nervous, anxious. He knew he could not fail at what he’d come here to do. Just as John had been chosen, he, too, was shown his path. The Sages had informed him over four years ago that he’d be instrumental in keeping the psychic girl safe. A day hadn’t gone by when he didn’t think about it. They couldn’t tell him what he’d do, or how he’d do it, but as the days grew closer to the event, it all became clear. He’d seen it for himself—just like they’d predicted.

Harry pulled open the mirror stowed on the back of the computer console and took a look at himself in the reflecting glass. A white painted face, with a big red smile and sunshine eyes, stared back. He made a great clown, he thought to himself. No one will ever suspect. Harry gave a firm tug on his bright orange wig, securing it over his hairline. Satisfied, he closed the mirror, shifted the balloons to the other hand, and grabbed a bouquet of flowers off the floor of the mobile.

“Door close,” Harry commanded. With a hydraulic whine, his mobile closed. He glanced at his wrist to make sure the Kamikaze identification patch was still in place. It was, but Harry held his breath nonetheless as he passed through the laser beam initiated by the school doors. The patch worked as expected, and he was admitted. Harry let out a relieved breath. Now the real show began.

Walking inside, Harry gave his red rubber ball of a nose a squeeze. Honk, honk. He danced in his oversized shoes, twisting and turning, the balloons bouncing along with him. He could see in his peripheral vision that Dulce, the receptionist, didn’t find him so amusing. Honk, honk. Harry played his nose again, then bounded to her side in one quick leap. He presented her with a colorful bouquet of fresh-cut flowers he’d been hiding behind his back. “These, my princess, are for you.”

Dulce’s eyes brightened. “For me?” Out of the hundreds of choices Dulce’s parents were given on what she should look like, they had chosen the most neutral of looks. Brown hair—one shade, brown eyes—standard shaped pupil, a straight nose, and an average chin. They’d hoped she’d become an agent for Central, so they wanted her to blend. Dulce didn’t want to be an agent. But blend, she did. Excluding her computers, Dulce couldn’t remember the last time she’d been given individual attention.

Dulce stared at flowers she’d never seen before. “What are they?”

Harry followed her gaze to the chrysanthemums and realized that Society didn’t grow them. “They’re... uh...”

The woman’s eyes gleamed as she lightly brushed one of the petals with her fingertip.

“Hybiscahquadrolilemums.” He glanced around at the four visitors in the lobby, then leaned closer to the woman, making her think he was ready to impart a secret she was somehow important enough to hear.

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