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“I’m not stalking you. I swear,” Lucas said, sitting next to her.

“Do I have a tracker on me or something?” she joked, but it came out all wrong.

He stood up to leave.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.

“No, it’s cool. I see a buddy.”

She didn’t know how to apologize without sounding weak. Instead she let him walk off.

A voice came through the assembly room. “Cadets, please be seated. Orientation begins in sixty seconds.”

The cadets took their seats and sat still. The theater screen lit up, displaying an aerial view of the academy. The academy became a 3D hologram with certain sections lit up to highlight specific areas within the various buildings. A list of stats came up. There were approximately 9,000 cadets with varying degrees on campus and a faculty of 250 instructors—with Director Faraday overseeing the impressive operation.

Director Faraday came out on the stage wearing his light blue lab coat. He stroked his silver beard and grinned at the audience. He was a peculiar one.

“Welcome to our newest recruits. We’re quite pleased to have you at the academy. We’ve been fully functioning since 2330, and for the last fifteen years our academy has become the most notable military and communications-training center in the country. Our graduates go on to become great leaders. Each contributing to the ongoing efforts to maintain our free nation.”

The audience clapped as the screen displayed images of previous graduates who were now officers. Grace couldn’t wait to be among them.

Director Faraday continued. “Training can be quite grueling and not all cadets are able to make the sacrifices required to graduate the program. In fact, there will be a handful of you who drop out in the first month. The work can be so demanding that our faculty has instituted a gala event at the end of the first month for those who have survived. This is often referred to by cadets as the Survivor’s Shuffle.”

The cadets laughed. Grace didn’t.

He continued with his speech. “Until then we will put each of you to the test. In just a few moments, all cadets will be plugged into the virtual system for an aptitude assessment in their specific area of expertise. We will select team assignments and team leaders based on today’s performance.”

That was the first Grace had heard of team leaders. What if she got stuck with Blythe as her team leader? The thought of that possible outcome was enough incentive for her to perform beyond her best—regardless of how she felt about Search and Rescue. This test would determine the fate of her next six months.

“Inside the right arm of your chair you will find an individual system panel which will connect you to the virtual program. Results will be sent to your tablets this evening. Again, congratulations to all of you. I hope you will make the most of this opportunity.”

Director Faraday bowed to the audience and walked off stage.

Grace maneuvered her hand into the arm of her chair and pressed down into the grove to connect with the system panel . . .

Inside the program, Grace found herself standing in the middle of a desolate boulevard. Alongside were countless buildings butted up against each other, each one plastered with enormous advertisements. Different types of cars were parked along the street, but there were no signs of life. From the looks of her surroundings, she was somewhere in the past. But where? She walked to the closest intersection and read the blue street sign.

“Sunset Boulevard,” she said.

The infamous boulevard had been obliterated during the Repatterning over three hundred years earlier. In the virtual, everything was still intact—although abandoned. It had to be the early stages of the Repatterning—before the real insanity had started. Otherwise, she’d be standing in a field of nothing. Something shot across the sky, leaving a trail of white smoke. In the distance, a thunderous explosion shook the ground. Another object zoomed overhead—it launched a missile straight into one of the grand hotels. The beautiful white building crumbled to the ground in seconds, causing a domino effect with the surrounding buildings. Everything started to collapse along the boulevard. Chunks of concrete smashed to the ground, crushing cars and cracking through the sidewalks. She knew the program was designed to test her search and rescue abilities, but she needed to find shelter before she became a casualty. She started running toward the clapped-out brick building with a flashing sign that read LIQUOR, when another missile zipped down the middle of the boulevard. She dove behind a black car just as the blast rumbled through the street.

“Like that’s gonna help,” a voice came from behind.

She turned to find Blythe staggering toward her. Blood poured out of a gash in her cheek. A wave of queasiness curdled through Grace’s stomach. This was the first test and it was a killer—she had to rescue the one person she couldn’t stand.

She went over to Blythe and held her up so she wouldn’t fall to the cement. “You’re cut pretty bad. Oh, man. I can’t look,” she said, turning away.

“Wimp . . .” Blythe mumbled, losing her strength by the second.

Another bomb dropped, taking out another few buildings.

“I need to get you out of the street,” Grace yelled over the noise. She started pulling Blythe toward the liquor store across the street.

Blythe dragged behind and dropped to the ground. “Go on without me,” she gurgled through the blood filling her mouth.

“That’s a negative. I’m not failing this test. I’ll get you inside and take care of that wound,” she told Blythe.

Grace half-carried, half-dragged Blythe over to the building and set her down in the alcove. The front door was locked. She grabbed a huge rock and smashed the front window and climbed inside, leaving Blythe outside on the pavement. Blasts continued down the boulevard. She ducked behind the counter and rummaged around. She didn’t find any first-aid kit, but she found a pair of car keys. She pressed the red buttons on the key fob, and a dark blue sedan out front beeped and flashed. She ran over to the front door and unlocked it. By the time she bent down to lift Blythe, it was too late. She was dead.

“Gracie!” Marion yelled from across the street.

“Stay where you are. I’m coming!”

She ran toward the car without scoping the area first, and a spray of bullets shot past. She ducked back into the alcove. Marion scanned the area and gave Grace the thumbs up that it was all clear. She jumped into the car and started the engine. It didn’t have any gears like the Jeeps back home, so she put it in drive and pressed down on the gas pedal, slamming into the next car. She kept turning the wheel and ramming the car forward, scraping the other one until she was able to get out of the spot. She pulled away and barreled toward Marion.

“Get in!” she yelled.

Marion jumped into the passenger seat. Grace pulled away and headed down the boulevard in the opposite direction of the bombings. Out of nowhere a truck zipped around the corner, heading straight toward them.

“Reverse it!” Marion yelled.

“No—I can take them.”

“Are you nuts? Back up!”

Grace didn’t listen to Marion and pressed down on the gas. Both cars were heading directly toward each other like an apocalyptic game of chicken. The truck zoomed out of the way, passing Grace on the left. The driver fired shots into their car, missing Grace. She kept driving, careening through the streets until the blasts coming off Sunset Boulevard were far behind them.

“See, I told you I could take them,” she said, gloating.

Marion remained silent.

Grace glanced over at her best friend and noticed a bullet hole in her forehead.

“Marion!” Grace slammed on the breaks and shook Marion, trying to wake her up. She pumped on her chest and gave her mouth-to-mouth, but her efforts were pointless—Marion was dead . . .

The program ended, and Grace woke up in the assembly room. Many of the cadets were still plugged in. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face, and she felt sick to her stomach. That did not go well. Claustrophobia started to set in, and she needed to get some air. She jumped up and exited the assembly room as fast as she could.

8

GRACE FOUND A courtyard where she hoped to find some solace from the jarring experience of the virtual aptitude test. Though none of it was real, seeing that bullet hole in Marion’s head was unsettling. She pulled out her tablet and chimed Marion.

“Hi.”

“There you are.”
Marion wrote back. She added a dancing smiley face.

“Oh, good. You’re not mad at me.”

“Nah, I know how much combat meant to you. I get it.”

“I’m happy for you.”
Grace added a regular smiley face.

“You better be happy for me!”

“I’m sorry for being a jerk. And for getting you killed in the virtual.”

“You got me killed?!”

“Yeah, sorry.”
Grace added a sad face.

“You wanna get out of this place and go check out the city?”

“Yes! Starving!”

“Meet me in the lobby.”

The girls met in the lobby and took a transporter to the heart of Silicon Valley. That might have been a mistake, because when they stepped out into the bustling whirlwind they were hit with a barrage of stimuli—multi-leveled solar walkways, commuter tubes, restaurants, shops, advertising orbs, and thousands of people swarming about. Some of the city dwellers shoved by them with a grunt. They scooted off the main pathway to a less busy one, and found a tramlift where they rose above the crowds and got a better view of the city.

“This is like New Los Angeles times a million.” Marion gaped at the city’s moving parts.

From a few hundred feet up, Silicon Valley sparkled like a mosaic made of mirrors. Commuter tubes zipped around the gleaming city in turbo-charged figure eights. At the center of the metropolis, Silicon Valley Academy reached high above the other structures.

“I don’t know where to look,” Grace said, holding onto the bar with both hands.

One of the floating advertisement orbs drifted toward them and slowed down. “Good afternoon, visitors. Would you like a tour of the city for one thousand e-credits?”

Grace wasn’t about to get swindled by the floating advertisement. “No thanks,” she told the orb, then looked at Marion. “We’ve got our tablets; we don’t need to pay for a tour guide.”

Grace activated her tablet and searched through the apps, finding one for a virtual tour guide. She selected the option and a hologram of a perfectly-coifed woman wearing a navy blue skirt and blazer appeared. Her hair was pulled up into a twist and her name badge read LINDSAY.

“Please select the type of tour,” Lindsay said with a hospitable smile.

Grace and Marion laughed, not knowing what to say.

“Might I suggest a historical route?” Lindsay asked.

“Sure, why not?” said Grace.

“Please exit the tramlift at the next stop.”

They followed the virtual tour guide as she escorted them off the main drag into an older part of the city. They walked down a traditional cement sidewalk—one that didn’t move—toward what Lindsay called a business park. As they walked along, Lindsay spewed out details about their surroundings.

“This section of town is modeled after the original industrial parks that date back to the 1950s all the way through the Internet bubble of the 1990s. In 2006, Silicon Valley was known as one of the most inventive places in America. In 2027, the city was destroyed in the fires of the Repatterning, and the only thing that remained was the city center. Centuries later, when the walls came down, the New Democracy decided to create a section to honor traditional Silicon Valley. Today, Silicon Valley is a hub for research and development to expand communications infrastructures throughout the Midwest and Eastern regions.”

“How about some food?” Marion interrupted the hologram’s deluge of information.

“In fifty yards, you will find a variety of food trucks,” Lindsay pointed to the row of multicolored trucks in a nearby parking lot.

“Food trucks?” Grace asked.

“Since we’re in the historical section, we honor all aspects of the traditional business model. Employees used to get their lunch from food trucks. Food selections include classic items such as burgers, dogs, wraps, and bowls.”

“I have no idea what she’s talking about, but something smells delicious.” Marion walked ahead of the virtual tour guide toward the row of parked trucks where people stood in long lines. The workers also honored tradition by wearing business suits and hats from centuries ago. They reminded Grace of the old movies her mother loved.

“Who would think eating out of a truck would be popular,” said Grace, watching people placing their orders.

“Might I suggest ordering some sandwiches and sitting in the park?” Lindsay asked.

The girls followed the guide to a purple truck with WICH WAY U WANT painted on the side.

They ordered two veggie sandwiches, fries, and sodas, and then Lindsay escorted the girls to a nearby park. They ate their lunch and watched some kids running around and playing on the swings while Lindsay continued spewing historical information.

“Centuries ago, this area was the main campus for one of the largest computer companies, Kiwi Tech. During the Repatterning, businesses closed their doors. The virus and the fires wiped out the majority of the population. At that point, the repopulation process began inside the Silicon Valley City Center, as well in the other city centers throughout the country. They used a new DNA-breeding technology.”

Grace knew all about John Dickson and Chief Morray and how they had created human life by manipulating DNA coding. She was half Insider. The same DNA technology ran through her veins.

“Like the Los Angeles City Center, after the Silicon Valley city walls came down in 2329, the New Democracy took over and the city began to recover. The Administrative building was repurposed for the academy, which has been fully operational since 2330. Throughout the country, other city centers began taking down their walls, creating open cities. Silicon Valley is at the helm of this vast communications network. Development breeds economic growth, which breeds development.” Lindsay was starting to sound like an advertisement.