Veneer (41 page)

Deron had pulled himself up to his knees and Rosalia took a similar position in front of him. Again, he kissed her, his hands appearing at the sides of her face and then receding out of view.

Rosalia let out a sharp sigh as Deron touched her for the first time. The pressure lessened immediately.

“Sorry,” he said, whispering to her cheek.

How they must have looked from a distance.

Rosalia tried to imagine it in her head, but Deron’s fingers were already marching on the border again.

“Are you waiting for permission?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Then what? Don’t you want this?”

“I want
you
.”

Pulling back, Rosalia put her lips near his. “You have me.”

“Forever?” he asked.

For tonight, thought Rosalia.

Instead of answering, she kissed him, forcing his eyes shut once more. Then, with only a gentle push on his shoulder, they collapsed onto the bed.

Rosalia woke to the sound of thunder grumbling in the distance. The storm that had accompanied their lovemaking had moved on, just as the novelty of sex had faded after all was said and done. Beside her, Deron snored like a content baby and it was almost precious enough to smile at. He seemed so happy, both during and in the twilight that followed. The things he had said, the sweet words she thought him incapable of, had shown the depths of his love for her. If it had not been for them, all she would have taken away was the pain of him entering her and the unfulfilled obligations when he finally collapsed on her chest, panting for his life. It was easy to forgive the insensitivity. Having her as he did was the culminating expression of how he felt about her, the logical conclusion of his quest to possess her mind, body, and... and whatever else there was.

Such a fool, she thought, caressing his hair.

Deron thought it would never end, that they would be together until time crumbled and beyond. He refused to believe they were destined for failure, that at some point their relationship would dissolve, whether in five years or five minutes. Rosalia thought she had lost him forever, thought he was dead and gone. It had taken that kind of extreme circumstance to show her that she could exist without him, that the world’s veneers would keep on sparkling.

She didn’t even take into account the possibility of finding another attractive boy walking around out there, one with a veneer that hid the same sweet and innocent soul underneath. Deron had been a great boyfriend, a perfect boy when she needed one.

But the time of boys had come to an end.

In another year, it would be the time of men. She could afford to lose Deron because by the time she got over his absence, she wouldn’t crave that same kind of juvenile spirit that she had adored in him.

“I love you,” she whispered, kissing him softly on his back. Then, slowly so as not to wake him, she slipped off the bed and collected her clothes from the floor. Piece by piece, she dressed, all the while too aware that she wasn’t crying, that she felt no sadness under her veneer.

Crying would have meant noise and she wanted him to remain asleep. Let him dream, she thought. Let him bask in the residual bliss. There was only pain waiting for him when the sun came up. There would be no Rosalia then, no discussions of leaving the city, no last ditch effort to convince her that he was right.

Just an empty bed. Just a fading memory.

At the door, she paused, looked at him wrapped awkwardly in the comforter. Rosalia studied it well, capturing every detail should she want to reconcile it later. She’d remember him like this. Happy.

And she’d have to, she realized, because of all the things he would feel when he woke up, happy wouldn’t be one of them.

The lights in the room were still down for the night when the wall began to ring. Russo pulled his head out from under his pillow and squinted at the portal glowing brightly beside him. Inside, Agent Ruiz stared back impatiently.

“What time is it?” asked Russo, rolling onto his side. The uncomfortable desk at the J. Perion building had made him appreciate his own bed more and with Ruiz ostensibly on his side, he had nothing to fear from showing his face at home anymore. His parents had said nothing of his absence; he wasn’t even sure they had noticed. The first thing he did when he returned the night before was collapse on the double bed, fully clothed.

“It’s four-thirty,” replied Ruiz. “I let you sleep in.”

“Fuck.” Russo pulled the pillow over his head again and pressed down.

“This wasn’t my idea.” The agent sounded somewhat resigned. “But someone shit in my bed this morning so now I have to shit in yours.”

The mental picture flashed and Russo almost laughed.

“We need to discuss Jalay Chapman.”

Snorting, he replied, “Why?”

“When I questioned him day before yesterday, it seems he got more out of the conversation than I did.” Around the portal, more images faded in, filling out Russo’s wall. “Someone has been active on a few darknet message boards. We traced it back to this Chapman kid. He believes agents can see through veneers. And he’s not afraid to share that theory with anyone who will listen.”

“But you
can
see through veneers,” said Russo.

“Yes,” hissed Ruiz, “but that’s hardly common knowledge, is it? Our primary mission is to locate Deron Bishop, but in the meantime, we need Jalay taken care of.”

Russo tossed the pillow aside and propped himself up on his elbow. “You mean, like killed?”

The agent shrugged. “How you solve the Jalay situation is up to you. But you need to get it done
today
.”

“What about Deron?”

“You didn’t make enough progress yesterday. I got within five minutes of putting my hands on him. How close did you get?”

Russo didn’t respond; he simply looked down at the wrinkled sheets.

“It’s not your fault though.”

A smirk. Was the agent actually trying to be reassuring?

“All I had to do was hang around the school for a few hours and the information fell into my lap. Obviously, you couldn’t do that.”

“I just need more time.”

“And you’ll get it, but we need to get containment on Jalay before the situation gets out of control. If we don’t take care of both of them soon, there’s going to be more collateral damage.”

The gasping Agent Tavarez made a brief appearance in Russo’s head.

“The suits look down on collateral damage,” whined Ruiz. “I don’t get it myself.” A finger came up, pointed directly at Russo. “Learn this well, Rivera. Unless you work for the big V, you’re just a sheep in this world. Everyone you’ve ever known, everyone you’ve gone to school with, seen out on the street, they’re all expendable.”

“What about us?”

The finger curled into a tight fist. “We’re the control—the shepherds.” His veneer shimmered into a grin. “And what do we do when the sheep get out of line?”

“I don’t know,” replied Russo, yawning.

The agent brought up a flat hand and smashed his fist into it. “We bash them on the fucking head until they rejoin the flock. Or until they’re dead.”

“I’m not a sheep.” He sat up and stretched his arms.

“You were.”

Russo narrowed his eyes at the portal on the wall. “Your power used to be a secret, but now I know. Now Jalay knows. You’re just lucky he doesn’t have any friends or else the news would be all over Easton by now.”

Anger flashed on the agent’s face. “You’re young,” he said, his tone not matching his expression. “One day you’ll learn that most of your life is spent cleaning up other people’s mistakes. And if Tavarez weren’t already dead, he’d be at the top of my shit list.” He became silent, staring intently.

It took Russo a minute to realize that he had been a loose end. Eric had spilled a secret and Ruiz had come to cover it up. “What would you have done?” he asked.

His eyes turned kind for a moment, the way they did when he spoke to the sheep, but Russo could see just how disingenuous they were. “You already know,” he replied.

Death, probably.

“But if I had reached you in time, maybe you wouldn’t have blabbed the entire story to your friend.” The agent waited for Russo to look up. “Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. “You thought I wouldn’t find out? You should have read some of Jalay’s postings. They’re very detailed accounts of how his former friend was arrested and identified by an agent. I don’t have to tell you how this sits with the suits.”

Russo scooted back on his bed until he could lean against the wall. “What do they care anyway? If people knew agents could see under the veneer, wouldn’t they be
more
afraid?”

Ruiz tried to laugh, but the forced levity sounded hollow. “Fearful sheep aren’t happy sheep. Besides, we teach them that the world is theirs for the taking, that reconciliation is an evolutionary birthright.”

“Isn’t—”

“Ha!” barked the agent. “Humans stopped evolving long before reconciliation. Did you really think that being able to change the appearance of an object is an innate ability? Does that even make sense?!”

“No!” he shot back. “That’s what I thought because that’s what I’d been told. But then I cut the eyes out of an agent and learned the truth!”

“The truth,” laughed Ruiz. “You found some wires. That was just a piece of the larger system. How do you think people would react if they found out about that system, if they learned their precious evolutionary skill was just a piece of code on a microchip?” He paused, caught his breath. “It’s not really about the veneers,” he said, quietly. “Sheep could come to understand the truth, maybe accept it. But when you reveal something like that, go against the official story that we’ve held for so long, it makes us look like—”

“Liars?”

The smile returned as creepy as ever. “They know we’re liars. What they don’t know is to what extent. Take the Guardian chip in your neck. Official story is that it’s there to protect you, monitor your vitals. But before we shortened the name, it was called the Guardian Angel chip. And it did much, much more.” He put up a finger. “One thing,” he said. “People believe the chip does
one thing
. They don’t question it, but if you tell them the chip’s responsible for reconciliation too, then that’s two things.” He unfurled another finger. “If two, why not three? Why not a thousand?”

“What else does it do?” asked Russo.

The agent made a weird face, as if insulted by the question. “What
doesn’t
it do?” Enumerating on his fingers, he said, “Vitals, reconciliation, presence-sense, bio-sec, GPS, interface auditing, InSight...” Trailing off, he let his enthusiasm settle. “We know where every citizen of Easton is at every moment of the day and they have no clue. We have logs, detailed logs, that trace their movements over their entire lifetimes. They can’t know. Do you understand? They
can’t
.”

Nodding, Russo let the revelations wash over him. He’d always known people were stupid, but now he saw them as they truly were, confined to a prison and unable to see the bars because someone had reconciled a pretty picture on them.

After a minute, Ruiz asked, “So are you going or what?”

“Now? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

The agent chuckled. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? When you work for Vinestead, your time is their time. And if you don’t get out of bed and go take care of the Jalay situation, there won’t be any time. For anyone.”

“Fine,” grumbled Russo, wincing a little from being ordered around so easily. It would take some getting used to, but so far it had been worth it for the intel alone. Lowering his legs to the floor, he sought out his shoes in the dimly lit room. There was a dull pain in his hamstrings, the consequence of too much time spent aimlessly walking the streets the day before. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He knew exactly where Jalay’s house was, where he would be headed soon. All he had to do was wait and his prey would come to him.

Agent Ruiz looked away and spoke to someone off screen. “It’s not my fucking mess!” he yelled, shaking his fist. “Ah, fuck you!” There was frustration in his face, which he reconciled away when he remembered the portal. “What?” he asked.

“When do I get a gun?”

“Right now, I wouldn’t trust you with a butter knife.”

“Then how am I supposed to
take care of
Jalay?”

“How did you kill Tavarez?”

If there was bitterness in his voice, Russo couldn’t sense it.

“That’s what I thought. Like I said, I only care about the results; the method is up to you.”

Russo nodded, resigned. Standing up, he looked around at the messy room. “It’s not fair,” he said, under his breath.

“What’s that?”

He turned in place and let a little malice into his voice. “You said I would get to bring Deron in.”

“Plans change,” explained Ruiz. “You failed. Now
I’m
going to bring him in.”

Russo shook his head. “Why even do that? Why do you care about him so much? He’s nothing.”

“You underestimate him.” Ruiz clearly enjoyed having information that Russo did not. “He’s more than just a victim of your bullying.”

“Fuck that,” said Russo, turning away.

“He can see. Did you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

Ruiz smiled broadly. “He can see under veneers. But it’s not like InSight; he can’t turn it on and off at will. Sometimes people have the unreconciled world thrust upon them. Two things happen after that. Either they wind up at the hospital and get fixed or they find a way out of the city and we never hear from them again. We need to get to Deron before someone else does so we can figure out why this is happening.”

“He can see?”

“Does that bother you, Rivera? That he can see and you can’t? Well, welcome to the real world. I’m cleaning up Tavarez’ mess, but you need to clean up your own.”

Russo scrunched up his face, utterly puzzled.

“Yes,
your
mess. You’re the one that broke his Guardian chip in the first place.”

Thinking back, Russo saw the defeated Deron crumpled on the grass in front of him. He saw his boot lifting towards the sky, then coming down hard on Deron’s neck. Who knew that under that tissue was a tiny chip responsible for the one power Russo truly wanted?