False Future by Dan Krokos Page B

of quick nod like, No problemo , before continuing on his way.
    Did I just se e …?
    I watch the back of his head, hoping he turns around again, but he doesn’t.
    I stand there for ten more seconds, until someone else steps into the elevator. A different Rhys. “You coming?” he says.
    “In a minute, thanks.”
    He raises an eyebrow, and the doors shut. The elevator hums as it rises. I look down at the ground level, but the Peter is gone.
    I replay the moment again and again in my mind. His face. His eyes, which should have been bright blue, were a deeper shade, closer to purple.
    And his chin…
    The little white scar on his chin, just like the one on the Peter I call my own.

S tunned, I take the elevator to level nine. My face is flushed and my head is a little swimmy. Peter is here. It must’ve been him, even though now I’m trying to remember his chin, and it’s a little blurry….Could it be I just wanted it to be him? But no, he suspected it was me too, just from a look. That was his pause midstep—it had to be.
    P-81. I have to find P-81.
    When I get to the dorm, Rhys is talking to the others. N-7 nods at me.
    “There you are,” Rhys says. I must look distracted, because he gives me a weird look. “I was just talking about our comm issue. They sent up new earpieces for us.”
    “Hey,” I say absently. Get your mind in the game. “Good. I have to go to the bathroom.”
    “Thanks for sharing,” P-230 says as I walk past. I don’t want to look at him right now.
    In the bathroom I splash water on my face, then look at myself in the mirror. This cheek was never slashed open by Mrs. North’s sword. The scar I’d gotten used to is gone. I touch the skin there anyway. There’s a toothbrush wrapped in a plastic case with my number on it. I can’t tell if it’s been used or not, but I brush my teeth anyway for the first time since I came back. True Earth can’t even spring for electric toothbrushes.
    When I come out, my teammates are playing cards again, Rhys included. Olive is reading a hardcover book on her bunk. Where did she get it? Did they stop their patrol to rob a bookstore? The whole scene is strange to me. They go out and do whatever they’re supposed to do—melt buildings, scan people, hurt people, whatever—and then come back and play cards to kill time? I want to scream WHAT ARE YOU DOING? at the top of my lungs.
    “Schedule change,” N-7 says to me. “We’ve got another hour before next patrol.”
    “We should sleep,” P-230 says.
    “ Should is the key word there,” N-7 replies.
    They’re just talking like nothing is happening. Before I was able to accept it as weird, but now it’s a live wire touching my skin. I’m so angry my right hand starts shaking, so I ball it into a fist, then hide it behind my back. N-7 is eyeing me weirdly.
    “I’ll be back,” I say, then march to the door before anyone can object. Really smooth. I shut the door behind me and press my back to the wall next to our room as clones walk by on my level. Two Mirandas carry a huge plastic tank with H10 labeled on the side. I want to make them drink it. Then, blessedly, I am by myself.
    The door opens, and N-7 steps out. He looks both ways, as if checking to see if we’re alone, and I stiffen. Before I know what’s actually happening, he leans in and kisses me. I shove him away with both hands.
    “Em, what are you doing?” he says. He isn’t angry, more like astonished. He’s breathing heavily, with these bewildered eyes, an expression I’ve never seen on the Noah I knew.
    M-96 and N-7 must be “together,” whatever that means for these people.
    “You know, I didn’t want to say anything, but you’ve been ridiculous since the promotion. You and Thirty-four both.” His eyebrows go up. “What is it, we’re not good enough for you now?”
    There goes my hope that the team was unfamiliar with one another.
    “I’m sorry.” It sounds weak. I try to recover with, “Just not here.”
    “No,