Mind Games by Teri Terry Read Free Book Online Page B

says. ‘Maybe she looked younger than she was? Addicts are often so malnourished.’
    ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ I say. ‘Why does everyone get Implants if addiction is on the rise? Doesn’t it show Implants are dangerous?’
    ‘What makes you say it is on the rise?’
    ‘You’re not denying it.’
    ‘Officially, the numbers are declining, though observation seems to suggest otherwise.’
    Melrose shakes her head. ‘The number of addicts must be declining. It is only the mentally deficient that become addicts, and they’re screening them out as MEs now.’ This is the official line.
    Then I realise what had niggled at me about the addict Jason and I saw in the cemetery. ‘Really? So, say, Hackers couldn’t be addicts. Could they? They’re the smart ones.’
    ‘Of course not,’ she says, dismissing the notion with a flick of her hair.
    ‘I saw a Hacker who was an addict.’
    ‘How did you know?’ she asks.
    ‘The usual ways. Clothes. Tattoos around his eye.’
    ‘That’s crazy,’ Mel says.
    ‘General weirdness?’ I venture to say, and her dad raises an eyebrow.
    A long pause. ‘Maybe,’ he says, at last, and I’m shocked. What could PareCo have to do with the impossibility of a Hacker being an addict?
    Then I can’t stop myself from asking one more question. ‘What about the school closures? A primary near our house. And I heard secondaries are being phased out.’
    ‘That is still under debate,’ he says. ‘There are outstanding issues before it can be implemented. There are appeals by religious groups going through to NUN right now. As far as surplus primary closures go, people are having fewer children. So fewer schools are needed.’
    The car slows, stops.
    ‘I believe we’re here. Do your best, Melrose,’ he says, kisses her cheek. He holds a hand out to me, and I take it for a formal handshake. ‘Take care, Luna,’ he says again, holding my eyes with his a moment, as if he is trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what.
    The driver opens the door, hands us our bags from the boot. The car waits until we disappear through the front door of NUN test centre 11.

An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise .
    Victor Hugo

8
    ‘Heh, you scrub up OK,’ a voice says behind me, and I turn: it’s Hex.
    I shrug. ‘Whatever. I wish I was a Hacker. That’d make dressing easier. Not to mention walking.’ I look down at my shoes, and grimace. They match the deep blue of this beautiful dress Melrose lent me perfectly, but teetering across the quad from the girls’ residence was both slow and painful. Hex is dressed as usual – black jeans, trainers. Grey T-shirt, black scribbles around the edges that probably mean something but not to me. Hackers stand out because they aren’t fashion clones like everyone else: they wear whatever they want. They all have their own variation on a theme and get away with it, boys and girls both.
    ‘Sorry, I’m afraid as a Refuser you don’t pass Hacker basic criteria. Plugging in is kind of part of it.’ He winks.
    I laugh. The room is becoming more crowded, and he is standing close enough that I’m suddenly aware that these shoes make me taller than he is.
    ‘Where’s Melrose?’ he asks.
    ‘I thought she was with you!’ The reason I’d come here on my own. They’d had to get together in person for a change: the whole test centre is Implant blocked, and no PIPs are available apart from for the test.
    ‘She was. She said something about having to straighten her hair.’ He looks pleased with himself, as if he’d had a hand in messing it up.
    My eyes hunt around the hall for Melrose. It’s a massive space – tables set for dinner, complete with candles, at one end; the rest is a dance floor. Dancing, in public? In these shoes? I sigh. There are stairs that lead up to a second level that overlooks the dance floor; my choice of designated hiding spot for the socially inept. Except for Hackers dotted here and there,