The Body Electric - Special Edition by Beth Revis Page B

the hologram of Dad disappears.
    “Why would you do that?!” I scream, dropping to my knees and picking up the bent and broken watch face. “That was my father’s !” This was an antique, passed down for generations from father to son in my family. Dad gave to it to me a year or so before he died, after Mom seemed cured and he was promoted to work directly in Triumph Towers, researching bots and androids for the government. The engraving on the inside of the watch is still there, exactly as I knew it. P.K.D.S. The initials of my great-something grandfather.
    Jack swoops down and picks up a cracked silver-colored bead from the shattered remains of the watch. “Well, Dr. Philip didn’t put a tracker in it, that’s for damn sure!” He holds the tiny object out to me, glowering.
    “How did you even get this watch?” I ask quietly, staring down at the broken pieces.
    Jack stands abruptly, knocking the watch face out of my hand and dropping the metallic bead into my palm. “A tracker. You put a tracker on me.”
    “I didn’t do this,” I say in an even monotone. I’m barely able to control my rage. I have so few things that are my father’s, just his, and seeing the broken watch is like seeing a memory of him smashed against the dirty stone floor. “How did you get my father’s watch?”
    “Because you gave it to me!” Jack roars. I flinch, and he takes a step back, breathing deeply. His eyes search mine, full of scorching rage. “Are they coming?” he asks.
    “Wh-who?” I stutter.
    “The M.P.s. The cops. Did you lead them here with your stupid little tracker program?” He steps around me, flinging open the door and looking out into the bright sunlight.
    “I didn’t call anyone,” I say. My voice is stronger with each word. “No one followed me. And I didn’t do that. I didn’t put a tracker in the watch. And I didn’t give it to you.”
    “What are you even doing here then?” Jack says. His voice is low now, and it sounds almost disappointed. Defeated. “I know you hate me, Ella, but why are torturing me?”
    “Torturing? Hate you?” I gape at him. “I don’t even know you!”
    Jack’s face falls into an emotionless mask. “I’m beginning to think that might be true.”
    “Of course it’s true!” I shout. “I never even saw you before yesterday! So I couldn’t have put a tracker on you—and I’m still waiting to hear how you stole my father’s watch!”
    The color drains from Jack’s face. He just stares at me, speechless.
    “What?” I demand.
    “You remember Akilah, though, right?”
    My hand goes instinctively to my necklace, the fortune cookie locket with a digi file of Akilah and me inside. She has a matching one.
    Jack runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve heard that the government uses subliminal messaging to control people,” he mutters. He casts an appraising eye on me. “But this is so specific…”
    “How do you know Akilah?” I demand again. I don’t care what kind of mind games he’s playing at; I want answers.
    Jack doesn’t speak for a moment. He looks as if he’s carefully choosing his words. “Akilah and I were in the same unit.”
    “She’s never mentioned you.”
    “She probably didn’t think you wanted to hear about me.”
    I rake my eyes over him. “Obviously not.”
    “No—I mean—” Jack growls in frustration.
    “Let’s just clear this up right now,” I snap. I raise my wrist, my fingers skimming across the surface of my cuff.
    “What are you doing?” Jack demands.
    “Calling Akilah. If she knows you, she can tell me.”
    “No—don’t!” he tries to knock my hand away.
    I narrow my eyes. My fingers stay on my cuff—not on Akilah’s contact info, but on the police’s.
    Jack’s lips curl up, but it’s not a smile. It’s a grimace. There’s a look in his eyes that is far sadder than I’ve ever seen before. My stomach drops, and dread rises up within me. A warning flashes through my head, and I’m suddenly reminded