Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports

41

I gazed at Anne in admiration. "Gosh," I said. "This is a totally new tack. I truly did not expect that." Looking around at the flock, I asked, "Did anyone expect that?" They warily shook their heads no.

I nodded at Anne. "You've got me. Good one."

"It's true," she said. "You know you're an experimental form of recombinant DNA. You know that you've undergone testing during your limited life span. Part of the experiment has been to test your brains' imaginative capabilities, as well as how accurately we can manipulate and even create your memories. There are various experimental drugs that we've been authorized to use, drugs that allow us to, in essence, give you life memories that you never truly experienced."

Why was she doing this? Why go to so much trouble to spin this story?

"Does it really feel like you lived in Colorado with Jeb? That Angel was kidnapped? That you got her back? That you went to New York? That you killed Ari? That you lived with me in Virginia?" Her eyebrows rose.

Narrowing my eyes, I stayed silent. I was aware that the rest of the flock was paying intense attention to her every word.

"Max, we gave you those memories. We monitored your heart and lung rates while you imagined yourself in violent fights. We decided on New York, on Florida, on Arizona. Remember Dr. Martinez and Ella? Those constructs allowed us to test your psychological and physical responses to a warm, nurturing environment."

My blood turned to icy slush in my veins. They knew about Ella and Dr. Martinez. How? Had they harmed them? Killed them?

I fought to keep my face impassive, to slow my panicked breathing. I couldn't let them see that they were getting to me. This was the worst yet.

"What was the memory of living with you supposed to test?" I snapped. "How I would react to a two-faced control freak who didn't have a maternal bone in her body?"

Two red splotches appeared on Anne's cheeks. Score one for Max.

"You still don't believe us, sweetheart," said Jeb.

"Yeah. 'Cause I'm not a lunatic." My voice sounded a little choked.

Jeb gently took my left wrist. Instinctively I tried to pull away from him, but I couldn't. He carefully turned my hand inside the Velcro strap, so the underside of my arm was facing up.

"Look, Max," he said very softly. "I'm telling you, none of it has been real. It was all a dream. You never left the School."

Remember that puckered red scar on my arm, from when I tried to cut the chip out myself? And then the surgery, just a few days ago? It had left clean, straight little lines, maybe half an inch long.

Jeb pushed back my sleeve so I could see farther up my arm.

There were no scars there. Not anywhere. My arm was smooth and unmarked. I tried to wiggle my fingers. They moved. There was nothing wrong with my left hand.

Next to me, Gazzy sucked in an astonished breath.

I tried not to breathe at all, tried not to swallow, tried to conceal my shock. Then something occurred to me: We'd gotten Total in New York. "What about Total?" I demanded triumphantly. "Was he a dream too?"

Jeb looked at me gently. "Yes, sweetheart. He was a dream too. There is no Total the talking dog."

He stepped aside so we could all see the bed across from us. It was empty. The sheets were smooth and taut and white. Total had never been there, had he?