Glitch

were small. The room- length
    metal tables and chairs were lined up tightly to fi t as many
    students as possible, fi ve rows to a room.
    I tried to breathe normally. There was no reason to panic.
    I just needed to cut out all other thoughts and concentrate
    34

    G L I TC H
    on the lesson about algorithm development. But I couldn’t
    help discreetly sneaking glances at the boy. He was typing
    calmly on his forearm. At least for once he wasn’t watching
    me, and even though his limbs were long, he wasn’t touch-
    ing me. Almost as if he was being careful not to touch me.
    Suddenly, the professor stopped talking. All the students
    tilted their heads up expectantly. Must be a Link announce-
    ment, I thought. I hoped it wasn’t too important. I tried to
    make my face mimic the others in the room, as if I were
    concentrating on the Link info. But then all eyes in the class
    turned to look at me.
    “Zoel,” the professor said, “are you not paying attention
    to the Link feed? You are to report to Room A117 immedi-
    ately.”
    My heart monitor started vibrating loudly in the silent
    room.
    35

Chapter 3
    i fumble d putting my tablet into its case. The loud scrap-
    ing of my chair on the concrete fl oor echoed in the small
    space. No one was watching me; their attention was back on
    the lesson in spite of my beeping monitor. I got out of the
    room as quickly as possible and recited the Community
    Creed as I walked down the hallways to the south elevator.
    What I wouldn’t give to click back into the Link again
    right now. After a few more recitations, the heart monitor
    fi nally stilled. But then, how many times had the monitor
    gone off today alone? I must have triggered an alert at Cen-
    tral Systems. I wanted to kick myself. How could I be so
    stupid? So careless?
    My fi nger paused before I put it to the small touch panel
    to call the elevator. I was still glitching. I wasn’t going to be
    able to hide my secrets any longer. I would be caught and
    repaired, or I could run away right now. I could get on the
    subway, take the connecting line, and try to get lost some-
    where in the Central City. Disappear.
    My hand started shaking and a high- pitched hum echoed
    through my mind. Desperate, hopeless thoughts. I straight-
    ened my body, calming the fear and panic soaring through
    36

    G L I TC H
    my limbs. I couldn’t stay hidden forever. Everything in the
    city required either wrist- chip or fi ngerprint access. I’d be
    found instantly.
    But then the secrets and the hiding would be over. The
    loneliness and the nightmares would go away. I wouldn’t
    be broken anymore. I would be just like everyone else, whole
    again, part of something. This was something that had to
    happen.
    I touched my fi nger to the panel to call the elevator be-
    fore I could talk myself out of it, and heard the responding
    whir of the elevator coming down the shaft. There was no
    choice, not really. I stepped into the circular white elevator
    tube and watched the door slide shut behind me.
    “Sublevel One.” My voice shook. The elevator moved but
    I could barely feel it. This was the right thing, I reminded
    myself. I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t think about my
    drawings and the beauty and the happiness and all the things
    I’d lose. When the door slid silently open, I stepped out and
    followed the numbers on the wall to Room A117.
    The door was open and light from inside spilled out into
    the hallway.
    “Greetings?” I called. “Subject Zoel Q-24 reporting.”
    “Come in,” said a deep male voice.
    I took one last deep breath and stepped over the threshold
    into the room. But then I looked around me in surprise. It
    wasn’t an exam room. It was a bedroom. There was a bed,
    desk, even ambient- light lamps instead of the ceiling light
    cells. I remembered now that the school had a wing of resi-
    dential rooms for people of importance traveling through.
    37

    Heather Anastasiu
    Then I saw the computer and mobile diagnostic equipment
    in one corner. Had they called in a specialist to deal with me?
    How much did they know?
    My brow must have furrowed, registering my confusion,
    because the short, round man standing in the corner said,
    “Come in. We just need to run a quick check on your sys-
    tems.”
    He was middle-
    aged with thinning brown hair and a
    sheen of sweat on his forehead. He wasn’t wearing the regu-
    lation gray but instead the black uniform and red insignia of
    offi
    cials. High- ranking offi
    cials—