Dissolution

Chapter 2 - Simulation

Second test: the interview.

Mine was scheduled in one of the Biology rooms where we did our simulated dissections. I didn't appreciate the irony. I wiped my palms on my jumpsuit for the third time as I waited in the corridor and tried to pretend I was Jake. He'd gone for ninety-seven thousand credits last year on his verbal and management ranks alone. I'd joked that he should have started paying me, but even nine months after his Auctioning, I was still earning almost double his salary. ANRON's five-generation bonus was just that hefty. It was almost a pity I was about to break it.

The door opened. A HARLIN boy staggered out, his face pale. He was halfway down the hall before I could ask him how it went. I knew it was psychological, but as he passed, my implants caught the faintest whiff of simulated rat feces and puke. Suddenly, I wanted to vomit myself.

"Come in," someone said.

They'd folded away the dissection screens, leaving the room too open and too white. I tried not to slink in like a criminal. "Hi," I said, cringing almost immediately. My smile felt too wide. "My name's Madeline. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The interviewer smiled back. She wore the same uniform my parents did: the cardigan and black pants of ANRON's administration staff, the DNA helix brand proudly embroidered into her shirt. I had the sudden, horrifying feeling that I was being interviewed by my mother. It must have shown on my face, because the next moment she leaned back like I was about to be sick all over her boots. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I lied. I sat down and tried to look comfortable. Confident. I failed.

"Well then," the interviewer said with a smile, crossing her legs, "let's get started. Tell me about yourself."

I took a deep breath and tried to think of Jake. We'd practiced in the weeks leading up to this. What was I supposed to say? The image of my mother had thrown me; I scrambled through a suddenly blank brain. The seconds trickled agonizingly by.

"Uh, well," I stuttered, once the silence got too much, "I'm really good at modding. I mean, I like it. Fixing things, I mean." I tried to laugh. "I'm a bit of a mech-head."

The interviewer nodded encouragingly, her face so practiced that I panicked. A half-remembered sentence that I was meant to have memorized floated up, and I blurted it out without thinking. "That's why I would love to go to MERCE and help fix up Unilox."

She blinked. I flushed hard enough that my scalp felt hot. "Uh, I mean . . . well . . . look, MERCE is amazing. I-I think it's important to help design hardware for the next generation."

She wasn't looking at me anymore. Her gaze had slipped away to the left of my shoulder, and I knew that she was making notes on her screen. I cringed. "Thank you for that, Madeline," she said sweetly. "Now, can you give me an example of when you showed leadership?"

* * *

I walked out from the interview room feeling like I'd just spent the last half hour watching my stock price in freefall. The bell rang as I wandered away, dazed. Lunchtime. I made my way to the canteen. Eleika and I looked at each other once, and then bought everything we could eat without getting sick. I dumped the Nutritubs on the table, horribly conscious of the third space between us where Carly normally sat. Bright-eyed, pink-haired Carly, who had grown up with us and then left for Entertainment Limited. Her parents had held a permanent private sale when she was nine, so she hadn't had to attend school for the last three weeks. If I didn't like her so much, I would have choked her-or myself-with envy a long time ago. Without her, Eleika and I were just scraping against each other's edges, a mass of matching nerves.