"Astrid Oxford."
Instinctively, I looked up at the sound of the voice, catching the eye of the woman in the doorway. She was middle-aged, greying early, and looked far too cheery for the circumstances – I had to wonder if I was misreading the bright expression plastered all over her face.
"We're ready for you now. If you'd like to follow me through."
I rose slowly from the sofa. I'd been here for no longer than twenty minutes, but it was already obvious that Old Stratford University College was as different from the academy as if they sat at opposite poles of the globe. Maybe having their own end of New London was kind of the same thing. Instead of a campus, the entire college was contained within one four-storey building, stretching half the length of the street. The windows weren't quite thick enough to block out a permanent soundtrack of traffic, and the buzz of all three floors above us seemed to radiate right through the ceiling. All of a sudden, the silent soundproofing of KHA seemed worlds away.
Every hallway I followed her through had the same white painted brickwork, though I got the impression this was an authentic old feature rather than any deceiving architecture. She led me to a door at the end of the corridor and punched a code into a keypad to let me inside.
The place could only be described as a makeshift lab; it was like BioPlus had been given thirty minutes' notice to set up a test room, except much less impressive. It didn't take a scientist to realise the huge piece of machinery whirring in the corner was years outdated. I couldn't help noticing the green sticker on the side, on which strands of DNA curled themselves into a leaf.
BioNeutral. They really were everywhere.
"Now, this is nothing to worry about," the woman said, taking a seat at the screen and tapping her nails across the keyboard to enter her login. "It's just a formality. You know, with everything going on right now, we just have to be sure."
"Yeah," I said, wondering how I was supposed to keep the guilt out of my voice. I only hoped the noise of traffic would mask it well enough. "I understand."
"A lot of the applicants didn't even show up to their test," she said conversationally. The whirring of the machine grew louder, accompanied by a new set of beeps. "It seems like that speaks for itself, don't you think?"
I didn't want to keep talking; every word out of my mouth seemed like it ran the risk of giving me away. The second dose of Dysintax had been injected two days ago, and I wasn't sure how much brain control I'd given away on that fact alone. Here didn't seem like the best place to find out.
"I guess," I said. "The new rules are a little intense."
"Seems like that's BioNeutral for you." She glanced over her shoulder, giving me a small smile. "But you have to appreciate what they're doing. I'm still shocked that this has been going on for so long under everybody's noses."
"Yeah." I swallowed. "I think it was a surprise for all of us."
Thankfully, she didn't seem to be thinking too hard about whether my responses were convincing – she was already setting up the machine, pulling out a small device with a finger-shaped imprint curved into it. As her nails tapped across the keyboard again, I could only be thankful she wasn't about to monitor my pounding heart.
It worked for me once. Surely, there was no reason for it not to happen again.
At least I hoped.
"If you could just place your finger here," she told me, gesturing toward the reader. "You'll feel a slight prick as it draws blood, but that's all we need."
I did everything I could to stop my hand trembling as I placed my index finger into the groove and held it there. There were exactly three beeps to count before I felt the sharp stab, and I forced myself not to move my hand away.
"It'll take a couple of seconds for the analysis to come through." She was still looking at the screen, sparing me any unnecessary scrutiny. "It's not like we're running a full DNA sequence, or anything. Just testing for a couple of markers."
Markers of modification. The exact information coded into every cell of my body, and that I was going to every length to conceal. The pounding of my heart intensified even more.
Then, suddenly, the screen flashed green.
"All done," she said breezily. When I moved my hand back, I had to grip them together so she wouldn't notice the shaking. "You're all clear."
"Oh. Right."
"Thanks so much for coming in today, Astrid," she said. "I'm sorry we had to go through all this. It's probably insulting to have to sit here and prove you're telling the truth, but with everything going on..." Her voice tailed off, and I fought not to squirm under the implication. "Well, we've all got to be careful. But I guess that's irrelevant here! We're happy to have you join us at Old Stratford."
"Great." This time, when I managed to smile, it felt a little more genuine. "Thank you."
"Someone at the desk can sort you out with your schedule and everything. I think you were approved for all the classes you applied for. Should be plain sailing from here on out."
She rose from her seat, outstretching her hand for me to shake. I hesitated for a second, before forcing myself to reach out and take it, hoping I could keep it steady for just those few moments.
"Thanks," I said again.
"No problem. Welcome to the college."
***
As it turned out, the place was a maze.
The KHA campus was huge, but its familiarity made all the buildings seem closer together, which was exactly what I was missing here. The classrooms inside this single building twisted themselves into an impossible labyrinth, where identical layouts made each one blend into the next. Even with an impeccable memory, how was I supposed to tell apart room 3B and 3C when they were exact replicas? On my first day, I had no hope.
Not to mention what I'd actually been worried about turned into nothing at all. Though the way I looked would never turn heads in a school full of modified kids, I'd been convinced things would be different here. My appearance alone felt enough to get me thrown out – and I was supposed to walk these corridors every day.
And yet passing through, it didn't take long to realise this wasn't the case. Whereas everyone at the academy fell somewhere near perfection, the students at Old Stratford turned my head for a very different reason. They were all so different. There were guys that towered over me, long and lanky, right up against those barely pushing five feet. Girls with natural waves, tight ringlet curls, frizz flat-ironed into submission. Dull, unaltered brown eyes. Spots. Freckles. Flaws.
I'd been terrified of standing out. But the students here stood such stark contrasts to each other that it seemed nothing could look out of place.
Classes raised just as few problems. I'd signed up for a basic selection, one that would see me through the rest of the year and not commit me to any particular path. Though I tried my best to match them, most of the titles on offer didn't even resemble those from the academy. Advanced Applications of Trigonometric Calculus became Maths II. Critical Analysis of Modern Classics became English Literature. British Society in the Pre-Collapse Era became History.
Kind of like the old version of me.
The content of these classes were as simplified as their titles. Despite them being halfway through session, I was up to speed with no effort at all. The entire maths syllabus was stuff I'd covered two years ago, committed to perfect memory – I probably could've taken a stab at teaching it myself.
I considered switching, if only for a moment. There were university-level classes on offer, which I'd undoubtedly be better suited to. But it was only a fleeting thought. I was supposed to be blending in, after all, and acing classes years beyond average ability was probably not the best way to go about it.
Things were almost too easy. Which, in hindsight, probably should've been my warning sign.
The first few days went by with few issues. Despite the hundreds of people around me, I kept to myself, introducing myself as infrequently as possible to control the spread of information. I dumbed myself down just enough to escape attention. And the minute the bell rung at the end of my final class, I was out of the building like a shot.
Until the end of the week. Then, things got slightly more complicated.
History class was usually on the west side of the building, and I'd quickly memorised the shortcut from the dining hall that got me a back seat every time. But when I got there that Friday, there was a sign on the door, redirecting me to a room I'd never heard of.
It ended up being on the other side of the college, and the time it took to get there had already made me late. I dashed through the corridor as fast as I could, only narrowly avoiding collisions with several people. 4G... that had to be next to 4H, right? It only made sense. So I reached for the handle.
Except when I pulled open the door, I was in for a much bigger shock.
It was the first time I'd seen Jace Snowdon look anything less than confident – but stood at the head of the classroom, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. The group of students sat before him all turned to look at me, but his gaze was the only one that mattered: a frozen look of surprise that sent a shiver right down my spine.
"Oh my God." He said it under his breath, barely audible, but I still heard every word.
"Sorry," I managed to stammer, once the silence between us stretched far too wide. "I think I have the wrong room."
I'd obviously walked in on some kind of meeting, though I didn't fancy lingering long enough to find out more. The students seated at the desks had all been leaning in eagerly, hanging off Jace's every word, pretty much the same way the nation did every time he appeared on TV. But there was something else – something about the atmosphere in the room, the way my presence made everything turn to ice – that had me realising I had to get out of there.
And as fast as possible.
"Wait!"
It was Jace's voice somewhere behind me, but I'd already turned to leave, and there was no chance of me strolling back in to answer questions. The damage was already done, but that didn't mean I wanted to do more.
I power-walked down the corridor, which was much emptier now class period had begun. There were less people to dodge, at least, now only the last few stragglers remained. I was about halfway clear of the room when a door opened behind me, and I didn't dare look back.
"Astrid! Stop."
Yeah, I thought, that's really going to convince me. But the split-second decision had seen me turn the wrong way out of the room, and I was drawing closer to the corridor's dead end. With Jace's footsteps closing in from behind, I was suddenly cornered.
I came to a halt, with no other option but to turn around. The two of us were face-to-face once again. How did this keep happening? Our lives couldn't have been more different, both of us firmly stationed on opposing sides of the new war, sworn by circumstance to be mortal enemies. And yet somehow our paths kept crossing anyway, like they were determined to knot themselves together.
He was staring at me like he couldn't believe his eyes. So I spoke first.
"Well," I said. "Hi."
"You've got to be kidding me." The words were so quiet, I had to wonder whether they were intended for me in the first place.
"What?"
"I just..." He paused, running a hand through his hair, as if struggling to make sense of everything running through his mind. That made two of us. "Sorry. You took me by surprise back there. I didn't really think about what I was going to say when I did catch up with you."
"Well, I'm here," I said slowly, keeping my eyes trained on him. "So start thinking."
"We can't..." He tailed off again, leaving me to wonder if I'd ever get a complete sentence. It was kind of ironic that he spoke so easily in front of crowds of thousands, and yet my audience of one was completely throwing him off. "We need to talk."
"Maybe we do," I said, "but not here."
I was trying to mentally plan my escape route – was there any way I could weave around Jace and be clear of him before he realised? But the hallway wasn't empty enough, and making a spectacle of ourselves was a bigger risk than anything. I was supposed to be keeping my head down, not throwing myself right into the centre of Jace's very public circle.
He glanced over his shoulder, surveying the hallway. Maybe he saw it like I did: with every pair of eyes another spotlight, a witness for a conversation that never should have taken place. Just standing next to Jace made me feel like I was up on a podium at a BioNeutral rally, my face broadcasted to every corner of the country.
"You can come to the council office," he said eventually. "There won't be anybody there."
It was a textbook example of the wrong thing to do. I had no reason to trust Jace. There could be anything waiting for me in the office: a group of classmate cronies to interrogate me, hidden cameras to capture a confession, a collection of government officials ready to pounce. I couldn't put anything past him.
And yet the thought of leaving all this unfinished was too much to bear. We were already tangled in our own complex web, and simply turning our backs on each other would not do anything to unravel it. It was perhaps the name Eden Clarke, running through my mind at the right moment, that forced the answer out of me.
"Okay."
There'd be an absence down on my record for that afternoon, and I only hoped it would go unchecked. It wasn't like I would be missing much content; I could recite the name and page number of the textbook our teacher was taking his lesson plans from, having studied it a couple of years ago.
Despite the life-threatening risk, I'd probably learn more from a conversation with Jace Snowdon.
The room was down three floors, but he avoided the lift, either thinking of awkward silences or the risk of witnesses. I kept my distance behind him on the stairs. Walking side-by-side seemed far too pally, and if there was anything that Jace and I definitely weren't, it was friends.
A key in his pocket unlocked the office – and it was as empty as he promised. No government officers ready to arrest me, which was maybe even weirder. At least then Jace would have a reason for bringing me back here, and I could finally stop questioning his character. But it was the silence that kept us in the grey area, where I might not ever be able to see through the fog.
The place was small, four walls threatening to close in on us, a feeling not helped by the overflowing shelves stacked right up to the ceiling. The tense silence only made things worse, like all the conversations we could've been having echoed around us. Too many possibilities, too many open ends – so I steered us down a less daunting route of discussion.
"You're on student council?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard. For a moment, he just stared, like I was trying to convey some sort of secret message he wasn't getting. Then he nodded. "Yeah. President now. It was just something I started out doing in my first year here, and I never really gave it up."
"Your decision?" I asked. "Or your dad's?"
Another pause, and another studying look. "His at first," he said. "Trying to steer me into politics from a young age. Now with everything else going on, it's not like I need to do it anymore... but I do anyway. Force of habit, maybe."
"Right."
"That's not what we're here to talk about, though," he said, as my heartbeat quickened. "You know it's not."
"You're the one who dragged me in here." Leaning against the desk, I folded my arms, trying to fake confidence. Jace didn't have to know that my heart was pounding two hundred times a minute. "You lead the conversation."
"I think my part is pretty self-explanatory. Right up to being really confused about what you're doing wandering the corridors of my college."
"I transferred," I said simply, like that was the whole story. "Is there a law against that now?"
"Not a law..." He should've sat down already, but he didn't seem keen to, instead hovering in the middle of the room as if poised to make a getaway. I didn't know whether it was satisfying or insulting. "I thought they tightened security. They said they were running tests on all new applicants..."
"They are."
He stopped. "Then how...?"
"If you think I'm going to answer that question, Jace, you must be an idiot."
This seemed to throw him, though he tried his best not to show it. I could see the thinly-veiled frustration in the way he reached up to adjust his glasses. "I don't understand."
"Thank God."
"You already told me you were..."
"Yeah, how about we don't go shouting that one around?" I cut in, before he could get the word out. There probably wasn't anybody with their ear pressed against the door, but I wasn't ready to stake my life on it. "It doesn't matter. It happened, I'm here, and I'm just trying to keep my head down. Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be."
"But that's the point," he said. "You're here, which means you passed testing, which means there's some kind of cover-up going on. And I'm supposed to sit on that kind of information like my dad wouldn't kill for it?"
"Yes. That's exactly what you're supposed to do."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can." The words came out sharper than I intended. Maybe it was the panic seeping in, triggered by the thought of Jace slipping through my fingers. "Or else whatever you were doing at BioPlus HQ that day won't stay quiet for much longer."
He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat, leaving my threat writhing in the air between us like a snake. Then he groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair.
I raised an eyebrow. "You really don't want anybody to know about that, do you?"
"I just..." His gaze dropped to the floor, which seemed to be an easier place to look than me. "It's complicated."
"Shocker." I kept my eyes on him. "There's nothing simple about any of this."
"Right."
He was purposely avoiding my gaze, though I knew he could feel me staring. The hesitance radiated right off him – and maybe this was my shot. Conversations where Jace Snowdon was not in control were hard to come by, and it wasn't a moment I wanted to waste. I had to seize the opportunity.
"Who's Eden Clarke?"
He looked up right away, our eyes locking with such sudden intensity that it caught me off guard. "What?"
"You mentioned her name before," I said, like I didn't remember the exchange word-for-word. "Asked if I knew her. Who is she?"
His expression was something more than surprise – it was almost like the name caused him physical pain, the letters scratching the surface of his skin like tiny thorns.
There was something in that name. I just needed him to let go.
"I'll tell you," he said eventually, after a long exhale. The pace of my heart quickened even more. "On one condition."
"What's that?"
"Only if... we stay even."
Whatever I'd been expecting, it wasn't that. "What do you mean?"
"We both have something on each other," he said. "That's why we're even standing here right now – because it keeps us even. And I'm not willing to tell you anything more... not unless you give something back."
"I can't tell you about the test."
Jace shook his head. "That's not what I was going to ask."
A sinking feeling of uneasiness washed over me, and I found my gaze locked on him, not daring to wander for even a second. My control was slipping away, and I hated every moment of it. "Then what do you want to know?"
He looked up, and our eyes locked.
"What happened to Nova?"
---------------------------------
Hi, everyone! I bring you this chapter from a moving train, which is the only place I'm getting writing done lately. I now spend 3+ hours a day travelling on various trains to get to my internship in London, so I'm doing my best to put the time to good use (though it's not always easy when you're wedged in with dozens of other people). I spend most of my time exhausted, but the internship is so fun, and I've already met some lovely people, so it's definitely worth it!
I hope my productivity continues so I can bring you more chapters of this story. As always, let me know what you thought in the comments!
Leigh