The Dome Read online

“Got it,” Hank says. “I’m the hacker. Tall. Confident. No slouching.”

  “Very good.” Kerry beams. “Now, Billy.” She pauses, gazing down at him. “You are the resident Black Tech programmer. I like the hair in the eyes. Adds to your mystique. But your demeanor is much too docile. Can you embody a bit of cockiness?”

  Puppets. They’re using us like puppets.

  “Uh, okay,” Billy says.

  “Don’t say uh. Not ever,” Kerry says. “It undermines audience confidence. Stand up for a moment, please.”

  Billy stands.

  “Hook your thumbs in your front pockets. Good. Now slouch a bit. Perfect. Now, look out at the world through your bangs. Perfect! Doesn’t he embody the perfect nonchalant, cocky Black Tech programmer?” She looks at the rest of us, clearly expecting an answer.

  “He looks great,” Hank gushes. I’m not sure if she’s gushing because she’s head over heels for Billy, or if she’s desperately trying to impress Kerry.

  “Good job, Billy,” Kerry says. “You can sit down. Now. Taro.” She turns her attention to Taro. “You, young man, have stoic down to a science. I like it. Just maintain that demeanor. The crowd will eat you up. You are the muscle of the group, the brawn that helped take down Imugi.”

  Taro tenses beside me. He hates being stereotyped as much as I do.

  “Sulan.” Kerry turns her smile on me. “You need to work on your expression. You are our resident mathematic strategist. When you’re in front of the audience, you need to look confident and smart. You need to portray intelligence. That means you can’t walk around scowling at everything. Smooth out your brow.”

  I take a deep breath. It’s an effort to relax my face, but somehow I manage.

  “Much better!” Kerry says. “You’re so pretty when you aren’t scrunching up your face. Now, let me see a smile. Try to portray a little bit of confidence. The audience will like that in their strategist. You used predictive analysis to develop an escape plan that had the best chance of success. You are shy, yet proud of what you accomplished.”

  “That’s not exactly what happened,” I begin. “If anyone can be credited for our escape plan, it’s Billy and Taro—”

  Kerry waves me into silence. “Irrelevant for our purposes. You’re scowling again, Sulan. Relax your face, please.”

  Everyone watches me. My face heats up with embarrassment. Riska rumbles and mrows. I blink, trying to smooth out my wrinkled brow.

  “Better,” Kerry says. “Now. Show me a small smile. Something … secretive. No, not like that. You look like a bear guarding a fresh kill.”

  If possible, my face gets even hotter. My palms start to sweat. Riska digs his claws into my shoulder and hisses.

  Kerry ignores him. She peers at me, her smile slipping. She cocks her head, tapping the clipboard with her finger again.

  “Look at him,” she says at last, pointing to Taro. “Smile at him.”

  I turn. Riska’s fur smooths out. For some reason, the idea of smiling at Taro doesn’t make me feel like I’m gnawing on cardboard. He meets my eyes, expression sympathetic. My return smile blossoms naturally.

  “Perfect!” Kerry slaps a palm against her clipboard. “Perfect, Sulan! Now, just think of Taro when you’re in Vex tonight. Pretend you’re smiling at him, and the crowd will love you.”

  For yet a third time, I blush. I glare at Kerry. Taro has too much grace to laugh, although Hank smirks at me.

  “All right.” Kerry beams at us. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. We’ll have more time to perfect your personas in the coming weeks.”

  “Coming weeks?” I say. We agreed—well, our dads agreed—to one press conference. One. “We—”

  Kerry holds up a hand to silence me. “Later, Sulan. Right now, I need each of you to meditate on your public persona, on the role you each played in the downfall of Imugi. To recap: Hank, you are the snappy, confident hacker. Billy, you’re the mysterious and cocky programmer. Taro, you’re the implacable warrior. Sulan, you’re the reserved and brilliant strategist. Close your eyes. Focus on your personas.”

  I glance at the others. Hank’s eyes immediately close. I can’t see Billy’s behind his long bangs. Taro glances at me, then closes his eyes.

  “Now is not the time for reticence, Sulan,” Kerry says. “You are a young woman of action. A young woman who helped deliver a devastating blow to our country’s worst enemy.”

  I reluctantly close my eyes.

  “The hacker, the programmer, the merc, and the mathematic strategist,” Kerry says. She repeats this a dozen times like a mantra.

  “Very good,” she says at last. “Now, when you’re in front of the public, remember everything we talked about. Embody your personas and let the country soak you in. Miss Winn will handle all necessary dialogue. It’s your job to stay in character. Keep in mind that you are representing Global Arms tonight. Make our company proud.”

  She delivers this last sentence as though it should be our divine inspiration. Like the welfare of Global Arms should be our sole reason for living. As if Global Arms hasn’t manipulated and tried to control every one of us—like it’s doing now.

  “Time to go,” Kerry says. “You now will have the rare honor of meeting Mr. Winn and Miss Winn in person. Follow me.”

  3

  Real-World Winns

  WE FALL INTO SINGLE FILE behind Kerry and exit the room. The mercs flank us as we move down the granite corridor. Riska, perched on my shoulder, growls at them. They ignore him.

  I take in the Fortress as we walk, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this is where Mr. Winn and Claudine live. The air is cool and there are no windows anywhere. Sliding metal doors line the corridor, some of them open. The rooms inside are all granite—the walls, the floors, and the ceilings. Wires for lighting run overhead, hanging from small metal prongs inserted into the stone.

  It’s like we’re in a cave. Could the Fortress have been carved right into the side of a mountain? It wouldn’t be the strangest thing the Winns have done.

  The feeling of being trapped makes the skin between my shoulder blades itch. Riska snaps his tail.

  We reach a pair of double metal doors. Kerry stops before them and turns to face us.

  “You’re about to enter the media room, the only place in the Dome with access to Vex. Mr. Winn and Miss Winn are inside. Both are eager to meet you.” She hesitates, smile wavering for an instant.

  Something in her demeanor sends a slither of unease through me. Taro shifts, no doubt also picking up on Kerry’s tension. There’s no telling what’s in store for us on the other side of those double doors, but whatever it is has her perma-smile rattled.

  “Meeting the Winn family in person is … a great honor.” Kerry sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “Remember your personas and mind your manners. Whatever you do, don’t stare.”

  With that, she turns and approaches the double doors. There’s a retina scanner mounted on the wall. A red line bathes the right side of her face, verifying her identity. The doors beep and slide apart.

  Still surrounded by the mercs, we are ushered into a huge chamber made of solid granite. It’s round and resembles a small amphitheater. Plush green sofa chairs line a round step-down in the middle of the room. Next to each chair is a metal stand that holds a Vex headset.

  The right side of the room is a solid wall of media equipment. Men and women in gray polos move among it, most of them tapping away on tablets. I spot a large fleet of Vex modems. The mass of gray polos is centered on the modems, no doubt prepping for the press conference. I can only imagine the security measures being taken to keep the conference from being hacked.

  To the left side of the room is a large window, the first I’ve seen since I woke up in the Fortress. I crane my neck for a better look, but from my vantage point all I see is a blur of white snow.

  “And here we have Global’s finest,” booms the familiar voice of Mr. Winn. “Welcome, slayers of Imugi!”

  I turn
, looking for the trim, monocle-wearing man with the big gray beard that’s been an unwelcome presence in my life since childhood. The familiar face is nowhere in sight.

  Instead, I see a huge man—no, scratch that. Huge does not even begin to describe his girth. The man is enormous. Way beyond fat. And he’s dressed in a purple velour jogging suit and fluorescent yellow sneakers.

  He waddles into the ring of green chairs and plops into one. The tracksuit stretches taut around him. His gut rests on his legs.

  “Our heroes have arrived in the Dome,” the man says. “This is a great day for Global Arms.”

  It’s Mr. Winn. I’m sure it is, although hearing the familiar voice projected out of a completely different body is disorienting. I kick myself for assuming he would look like his avatar. Minors are prohibited from using Vex Axcents to modify their avatars, but once a person turns eighteen, all bets are off.

  “Come here. Let me get a look at each of you in the real-world,” says the fat man.

  Riska wraps his tail around my neck and mews. I stand there with my friends, all of us frozen in shock. It isn’t until one of the mercs prods me in the back that I remember to move. And not to stare. Suddenly understanding Kerry’s warning, I drop my eyes.

  “Come.” Kerry beams. “You heard Mr. Winn. He would like to meet you.”

  Clustered in a tight group, we ease down the step into the center of the room. Kerry buzzes around, arranging us into a line before Mr. Winn.

  “Personas,” she says with a radiant smile. “Let Mr. Winn see them, please.”

  Hank immediately straightens and cocks her left hip to one side. Billy sticks his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants. I work the muscles of my face, trying to capture the secretive smile Kerry wants. Taro is the only one of us who doesn’t change. He remains stock still, his face its usual implacable mask.

  Our efforts must be decent—either that, or Kerry wants Mr. Winn to think she’s done a good job prepping us—because she says, “Very, very nice. What do you think, Mr. Winn?”

  He looks us up and down. Even though he doesn’t cut an imposing figure—not unless you take into account the fact that he could squash anyone he sat on—I find myself intimidated. He’s one of the most powerful men alive and we are at his mercy. The Dome is his kingdom and we are his subjects. He could order anyone here to be executed, and there’d be no one to stand up to him.

  I do my best to maintain my strategist’s secretive smile, fixing my gaze on Mr. Winn’s fluorescent-yellow shoes.

  “Miss Hom,” Mr. Winn says after several long minutes of silence, “I’m sorry to hear of the loss of your mother. Li Yuan Hom was as much a part of the Global family as you and your father. Her loss is both tragic and unfortunate. I made a donation to a San Francisco food bank in her memory.”

  My throat constricts. All my carefully constructed self-control threatens to unravel. The welling of tears makes my eyes sting.

  Taro, standing next to me, squeezes my hand.

  That single squeeze is all I need to pull myself together. My mental walls slam back in to place. I blink away my tears and manage a nod at Mr. Winn.

  “Thank you,” I say. “She would have liked that.”

  “Li Yuan Hom did a great service for her country, as did all of you,” Mr. Winn says. “America is eager to meet its young heroes. I realize you’ve all been through a great ordeal. A press conference can be an intimidating thing even in the best of circumstances. Rest assured that I’ve taken steps to make this painless and stress free for all of you.” He smiles, almost looking grandfatherly.

  “America just needs to see you,” he says. “You don’t need to worry about being put on the spot. I’d never throw you to the press without proper training. They’re a pack of wolves on a good day. Claudine will take care of the media hounds.”

  He makes it all sound so reasonable, like he’s looking out for us, even though it’s all to his advantage and we’re nothing more than tools in his toolbox.

  “Just let America see her heroes,” Mr. Winn continues. “That’s all you have to do. Can Global count on you tonight?”

  “Yes, Mr. Winn,” we say in unison.

  “Excuse me.” Hank takes a tentative step forward. “Mr. Winn, when will we be permitted to see our families?”

  “Very soon, young lady,” he says. “Rest assured they are safe. I—”

  “We can suspend the obligatory pleasantries,” says another voice, interrupting Mr. Winn. “It’s time.”

  The voice sends a jolt down my spine. There is only one person on the planet who would dare to interrupt Mr. Winn, and I would know the voice of Claudine Winn anywhere. She took a special interest in me when I attended Virtual High School, always making her displeasure clear when I received mediocre grades.

  “Firewalls are all in place,” Claudine says. “Avatars are arriving. We’re on the brink of maxing out the site’s capacity. It’s been a long time since any Vex site has seen this much activity.”

  I scan the circular room, looking for her. My gaze is drawn toward the bustling tech crew. A crack appears in the cluster of gray polos to allow a wheelchair through.

  A bald woman sits in the chair, the back of her head cradled on a small pillow. A Vex set sits on her skull, secured by extra metal straps. Vex goggles obscure her eyes.

  A small tube runs from a ventilator into her nose. Her chest rises and falls with the rhythm of the machine, a soft psssht-psssht underlying the general hum of the room. Another tube is inserted into her arm, a fluid bag attached to it.

  The woman appears to be on life support, but there’s no one pushing the wheelchair. It rolls forward on its own, the gray-shirted tech workers peeling aside to let it pass. How is it being directed?

  That’s when I catch sight of the articulated arm attached to a console on the front of the chair. Atop the articulated arm is a small screen. On the screen is the face I have seen countless times in Vex. It’s the avatar of a pretty woman with cosmetically smooth skin and shiny brown hair that falls softly around her shoulders. Hard, intense eyes stare out of the screen at us.

  My lips part in surprise. Beside me, Hank lets out a gasp. Billy shuffles his feet. There’s a barely perceptible shift from Taro.

  It’s Claudine Winn. The woman in the wheelchair is Claudine Winn.

  My mind scrambles to process this new revelation. I recall Claudine being in a brutal car accident years ago, before I was old enough to attend Virtual High School. Is that why she’s on life support, because of her car wreck?

  “Time to jack in, Uncle,” Claudine says. Her words are delivered by the wheelchair’s avatar.

  Somehow Mr. Winn has found a way for her to communicate with the real-world through a Vex avatar, which is the woman on the screen. Her body is preserved in the real-world, her consciousness somehow linked to Vex. Despite everything, I can’t help but marvel at this feat of science.

  Beside me, Hank breathes, “Amazing.”

  Open shock paints the faces of my friends. The Winns pretend that seeing Claudine for the first time in the real-world is as commonplace as opening a can of peaches. One look at Kerry’s white face reminds me that we’re not supposed to stare.

  “You heard my niece.” Mr. Winn gestures to the green chairs. “Have a seat. It’s time to enter Vex.”

  Relieved for an excuse to move, I make my way to the nearest chair. Riska jumps into my lap and settles down, wrapping his tail around his forefeet.

  As I pick up a Vex set, my mind leaps to Gun, my closest friend besides Hank. He’s my Vex training partner. With him and the help of a little Black Tech, I’ve become a decent fighter in the real-world.

  Will Gun be at the press conference? Will I recognize him if he is? Instinct tells me he’ll be in disguise. He openly attacked the League to rescue me; no doubt they’re after him.

  Claudine rolls down a ramp, situating herself next to her uncle. Her screen rotates on its arm so she can regard us. Her eyes are as hard as ever, but there’s an added
creep factor when it’s combined with the sight of her prone real-world body.

  “Vex sets on,” Mr. Winn says, picking up his set.

  I slip the set over my head, turning a small ratchet to tighten it. Then I lower the goggles over my eyes.

  “Ten seconds,” Claudine says.

  I count the seconds, tapping my forefinger against my leg. Five, four, three two, one …

  The familiar blue of Virtual Experience pulls me in.

  4

  Infinity Stadium

  THE BLUE FADES AS I’M FUNNELED into a virtual environment, which rapidly materializes around me. A millisecond later, the blue disappears, replaced by the site chosen for the press conference.

  As I fully emerge into the Winns’ designated Vex site, I become my avatar and see through its eyes. While my mind controls virtual speech and movement, in the real-world my body remains still and silent in the green chair.

  My head swivels as I take in our virtual location. I recognize Infinity Stadium immediately. It stretches impossibly tall, taller than a stadium could ever be in the real-world. It’s so tall the uppermost seats are indistinct, colorful blurs to my virtual eyes.

  Infinity Stadium is the largest site in Vex. The software is built to accommodate several million avatars, a feat of programming no other site has been able to duplicate. The Winns spared no expense in selecting a place to display us.

  My ears are assaulted by a deafening wall of sound. It’s the roar of a crowd. People shout and fist the air with enthusiasm. It takes a heartbeat for me to realize that enthusiasm is directed at us.

  Disappointment blooms deep inside me. Even if Gun is here, I won’t be able to pick him out in this massive crowd. There are hundreds of thousands of avatars here, all of them mixed together in a riot of color and noise.

  I, on the other hand, am impossible to miss. Taro, Hank, Billy, and I have all been placed on a rotating dais in the center stadium—and we’ve been enlarged for the benefit of the audience, each of us standing at least one hundred feet high. Taro, taller than the rest of us, has got to be at least one hundred fifty feet tall.