Disruption by Jessica Shirvington Read Free Book Online

least against the technology. But for the first time he actually appeared to be … excited. Willing.
    Huh. I’d had Nathan Bennett all wrong. He wasn’t against it. He was one of the quiet hopefuls. There were a lot like him, teenagers who’d never been much more than average and hoped their new rating potential would open doors. Until now Nathan had done a good job of keeping his desires hidden.
    Ivy scooped up Quentin’s hand and they moved into their positions. ‘This is it, baby,’ she said excitedly, planting a kiss on his cheek.
    He smiled back, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I wondered briefly if anything ever made him really smile.
    Once in position, we all turned on our Phera-tech. Everyone watched their bands with eagle eyes. Everyone but me. I was watching Quentin. Within a matter of seconds his M-Band registered one, then two, then three people in his immediate proximity and the colour drained from his face and his shoulders rolled forwards.
    I glanced at Gus, who was also watching intently.
    You see, this was never about changing Quentin’s pheromone signature. Changing his signature would achieve nothing. What really made a difference was changing the way he received the incoming signatures.
    It was called disruption.
    Thanks to Dad’s chemical cocktail, Quentin had just read all three of us as negatives. And because readings are mutual and a negative reading overrides any other, all of our readings had reacted the same way towards him.
    ‘Can I get you to call out the ratings, please, as I name the pair,’ Gus powered on, remaining professional. ‘Please note that I may at any stage request visual verification. Miss Knight and Mr Bennett?’
    Ivy, who’d also turned a ghostly shade, blurted out her response. ‘Sixty per cent.’
    Nathan concurred, looking pleased he’d just rated as lust-match potential with the hottest girl in school.
    ‘Mr Bennett and Miss Stevens?’ Gus asked.
    ‘Forty per cent,’ Nathan responded, sounding comfortable that this put us in the non-compatible category.
    ‘Miss Stevens, you’ll need to verify,’ Gus said, barely containing his smile at the rating.
    ‘Yes, forty per cent is correct,’ I said.
    Sure, I was no prize, but I could assure Nathan the feeling was mutual.
    ‘Okay.’ Gus tapped a few keys on his computer. ‘Mr Bennett and Mr Mercer?’
    Quentin swallowed and opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
    ‘That’s a negative response from me,’ Nathan responded wearily. A neg rating was always uncomfortable. I suspected the only reason he’d said it aloud was because he’d already had the two other acceptable ratings, assuring him that he couldn’t be a neg.
    Ivy was looking at Quentin, who seemed to be ignoring her.
    Yep. Suave had left the building.
    When it became apparent Quentin wasn’t in a hurry to verify, Gus used the opportunity. ‘Mr Bennett, could you please bring your band over here for visual verification.’
    The Privacy Act prevented ratings from being recorded on any kind of government mainframe. Except in the case that your Phera-tech registered four or more negative ratings in a month. If that happened, a flag was activated and privacy became non-existent. If an investigation proved the person was a neg, removal was immediate.
    Technicians like Gus were authorised and expected to make random visual checks when they felt the need.
    Once Gus had verified the reading and sent Nathan back to the circle, he proceeded. ‘I need Miss Knight and Miss Stevens.’
    ‘Forty-five per cent,’ Ivy said, sounding distracted.
    Girls tended to rate quite low with one another – unless they were gay – averaging between twenty-five and fifty per cent. Boys had higher averages, ranging between forty to sixty per cent. This reading put Ivy and me in the compatible friend category. Strange.
    I verified the result.
    ‘Thank you,’ Gus said, entering some more data. ‘Miss Knight and Mr Mercer?’
    This time, it was Ivy who appeared to be