Glitch

started smoothly forward. I stole a
    glance around the train, trying to look blank and completely
    disinterested. If the Regulator was on this train, there would
    be no escape.
    No sign of the Regulator. Everyone’s faces seemed to have
    settled back in to indiff erence as they all stood evenly spaced
    apart, holding the fl oor- to- ceiling poles studded throughout
    the train car. The incident with the girl was completely for-
    gotten. I was safe.
    I took a deep breath to sooth my jarred nerves. But then
    amid the empty faces in the crowded space, my eyes latched
    on to a pair of bright blue- green eyes. I realized with a jolt
    that it was the same boy from the day before in the Market
    Corridor. And he was looking right at me.
    He was tall and thin, with hair so dark it looked black and
    those eyes that stared at me with an intensity that seemed to
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    G L I TC H
    sizzle through my skin. What had he seen? Why did he keep
    looking when the others’ faces had gone empty?
    I stood still, clutching a pole for balance and staring at
    the rounded corner of the dark subway window. I hoped my
    eyes looked glazed over, because inside, my emotions were
    roiling.
    Could he possibly know about the . . . thing I could do?
    Would he report it? And what would happen if he did?
    Would they deactivate me so they could dissect my brain to
    understand how it worked? Or simply deactivate me and
    dispose of my defective hardware? There were just too many
    questions I couldn’t answer.
    I clenched my eyes shut to stop the dizzying tumble of
    fears, then realized that might appear anomalous. I went
    back to staring at the window’s edge, jittery with ner vous
    tension for the rest of the ride to the Academy. I wanted to
    get off this train and forget about what had happened on the
    platform and the boy with the piercing eyes. As the train
    slowed at the station, though, I saw the boy move toward
    the doors. My eyes widened in spite of myself. Was he fol-
    lowing me?
    I tried to think back, to remember if I’d seen him around
    at the Academy or on the train before now. I didn’t know.
    I spent so much time making sure I acted normally, I was
    sometimes oblivious to the subjects around me. I stepped
    off the train and entered the fl ow of kids my age heading
    toward the Academy entrance tunnel. Then, with a fl ood
    of relief, I felt the familiar tingling sensation at the corners
    27

    Heather Anastasiu
    of my mind, marking the return of the Link connection.
    I embraced it, letting my fear drift away into nothingness.
    It was lunchtime when I glitched again. I blinked a few times,
    then stared down at my plate until I was adjusted. I’d let my-
    self go numb all morning while I was Linked, not even try-
    ing to fi ght that last inch of complete control. But now that I
    was all to myself again, the fear I’d successfully subdued all
    morning came rushing right back.
    I was sitting alone in the Academy cafeteria, one of the
    largest open spaces in our sector. It was a wide, low- ceilinged
    room with columns placed every fi fteen feet throughout for
    support. It was bare, utilitarian, and gray, like everything else.
    There was light chatter in the dim cafeteria, students discuss-
    ing class work mostly.
    Several luminescent 3- D projection cubes were set up on
    some tables with varying fi gures rotating inside them as stu-
    dents worked on assignments. One group of students was
    studying the internal mechanics of bionic data nanodes. An-
    other group examined the image of a rotating human head.
    As I watched, one student clicked on the translucent skull.
    The model zoomed in to reveal lobes of the brain. Another
    click revealed the complex bustles of nerves, tissue, and thin
    Link hardware threaded all throughout. Training and study-
    ing all day for the time we’d reach adulthood, receive our
    fi nal V-chip, and join the Community workforce alongside
    our parents. Everything was normal.
    But inside, I was still recovering from the morning’s close
    call. Clearly I need to fi nd a better method of controlling my
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    G L I TC H
    glitches. There were no guarantees that there would be a
    well- timed train to rescue me next time. And I was start-
    ing to suspect that the boy on the train, the one with the
    bright blue- green eyes, was a sign of an even greater dan-
    ger. A sign that I had likely already been reported a few
    times as anomalous.
    When a report of an anomaly was logged in the Com-
    munity rec ords, a Monitor would be