Glitch

punched me in the stomach. “No!”
    I grabbed frantically at the screen, typing every tech code
    I could think of to open up more information in the profi le,
    but all the other subheadings were blank and I hit a security
    wall the more I pressed. It had to be wrong. It was impos-
    sible. I shook my head back and forth frantically.
    “Adrien, what
    else is in that fi le?” My voice was high-
    pitched, near hysteria. My heart monitor was buzzing, but I
    didn’t care. This had to be wrong. “Show me what else is in
    that fi le!”
    A high- pitched scream threatened to erupt from my throat.
    My arms shook with emotion and power, but this time I
    barely cared about maintaining control. For all I cared, my
    power could let loose and rip the data equipment from the
    walls, break down the doors and disable the entire Central
    System mainframe. It could bring the concrete maze of the
    Community crashing down, crumbling it to dust. Anything
    to wipe away what I’d just seen.
    The device Adrien had placed on the table beeped. “Shunt,
    Zoe, we have to get out of here. They’ve repaired the mal-
    function. They will be back any minute.”
    I barely heard him. I was staring at the green silhouette of
    the older brother I didn’t remember having, my hands in fi sts
    237

    Heather Anastasiu
    so tight my fi ngernails broke my skin. My stomach twisted
    in pain.
    The fragmented nightmares. The allergies. I had been on
    the Surface once before, exposing myself to the mold aller-
    gens. I’d been on the Surface and I’d betrayed my brother to
    the Regulators. Bile rose up into my throat. I had another
    brother. And I’d killed him.
    Adrien had gathered up all his equipment and fi nally
    turned to look at me. His face was a mask of worry.
    I felt a tremor of anger rip through me. It was sharp and
    electric, fi lling me to my fi ngertips and making my scalp
    tingle with energy.
    “Zoe, you have to stop. Zoe!” Adrien grabbed my frantic
    hands, forcing me to look at him. “We have to go. Now.”
    I shook my head, my teeth gritted as streams of water
    poured down my cheeks. I wrenched my hands away from
    him. “He must have been trying to take me with him when
    he escaped. He didn’t want to be alone, so he took me with
    him. And then I got him killed!”
    “You were only four years old!” Adrien pulled me away
    from the console. I fought to get back to the interface cube,
    but Adrien stepped in front of me, taking my face in both of
    his hands.
    “Think of the others, Zoe,” he said quietly, his eyes search-
    ing back and forth between both of mine until I stilled. “If
    we get caught here it will put Max and Molla in danger. We
    need to leave. Can you click yourself back into the Link?”
    I stared at Adrien, seeing him and not seeing him. He
    grabbed my upper arms, forcing me to meet his eyes. For a
    238

    G L I TC H
    moment I was grounded again, locking on to something real,
    something other than the uncontrollable emotions that were
    surging through my body, threatening to break free. I fi nally
    nodded and stepped back, feeling dizzy and light- headed.
    I wanted it— I wanted the Link. I wanted to bury my
    crushing pain in the numbing stream of the Link’s cold
    logic and order. But I didn’t deserve comfort. I’d killed my
    brother. I deserved to feel every ounce of the empty and the
    cold. I deserved to fall into the pit of darkness that was rip-
    ping open like a jagged abyss in my chest.
    Adrien shook me, bringing me back to the present. I fi -
    nally lifted my heavy eyes to his face. “Beta Ten Gamma
    Link. Say it, Zoe.”
    I’d had an older brother. I’d gotten him deactivated. It
    was my fault. My fault, my fault, my fault. I clutched my
    stomach and sank to the ground. I was so heavy. I wanted to
    sink down right through the fl oor and disappear. I wanted
    to have never existed.
    But I was a betraying coward, so I said it. I repeated after
    him dully, hating myself as I did: “Beta Ten Gamma Link.”
    “Let’s go.” He grabbed me by the hand and hauled me
    from the room. We made it out through the long empty
    corridor, his hand in mine an anchor as he carefully maneu-
    vered us back out of the doors of the restricted block. He
    pulled me down another hallway and into the alcove en-
    trance to a classroom. The room was empty, but I heard
    footsteps in the next corridor beyond. It must be the end of
    the day. If we delayed too long, it would be noted that we
    were not following our strict