Always/Never

Chapter 26 / Technopath vs. Technopath

As I stepped out into the common area, the lightbulbs doused me in a mind-numbing whine, their shine following me every step of the way to the couch. Like the stage of a theatre, when I moved from the radius of one into another, it seemed to match my timing. It was only when I hit the couch that I realized Accha sat there.

Long after I met her, I found Accha in this position quite often. Sometimes she was studying, and sometimes she recused herself to this place after visiting my room, for she was uncertain whether I wanted her to stay, or whether the offer to let her use one level of a two-tiered fridge was merely that—an offer.

She sat with one leg folded over the only pillow cushion, her chin notched into the dimpled fabric. I decided not to think about how many times in a week it was washed.

Softly, with a crease in her brows, she said, "Is it back?"

I supposed that was the only question that mattered, at the end of it.

Still, had she overheard? Had she wanted to overhear?

I shook my head in response. "I can sense my phone and everything, but I don't think it will be of much use." For a moment, I thought of her phone; locked for seven years. Maybe my power, too, bore the same restriction. With a gesture to Rory's room, I shifted on my feet. "Should we... I mean, do you want to... want to know?"

Amusement twinkled in her eyes. Actually, maybe amusement wasn't the right word. It was more like pride. "Nah." She waved a hand dismissively. "I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't shocked by your reaction, but it would also be a lie if I said I didn't want for Dr. Pitre to kick you out of the program. I had acquired a taste for vengeance at the time, I suppose, so right about... now, I'm marching to her office to talk to her in person."

"What?"

She nodded. "Nobody told you? It's not like I had any physical proof. She probably dismissed me as an angry ex-girlfriend, which I was."

Which meant past Michaela was there, right now. This time, there would be proof. Part of me wanted to run across campus so I catch the meeting, stand there, and listen to it unfold me from the inside out.

"You're not," I said, resting a hand on her arm. "You weren't."

"Of course, I was. Like you are. That doesn't mean we were wrong to be angry, though we were, and are, and will be, sometimes. We handled it wrong." Her eyes lifted to the door, beyond which was the evidence that she had a point there.

"It was all wrong," I admitted.

Her chin swished against the divots on the couch when she spoke. "What was wrong can be fixed. Like right now. In the future. I don't claim to know everything, or even to know everything about you, but I know that I trust you. I trust that we can work together to face all of our wrongs."

As her fingers found mine, they interlaced like braided wires. The lights buzzed louder, louder, until I was certain they were going to shatter.

Instead, Rory yelped.

Go, Accha mouthed, though I had already snapped halfway around and sprinted over. I reached the doorway at the exact instant that the flashes of light beamed through the room, filling the space with nothing but white.

I couldn't see. Distantly, my system prodded, guiding me into Rory's room, by the desk.

All of the colour led to her laptop, blinking and flashing in tempo with my sped-up breathing. I stepped forward, into the line of sight of its camera, and scowled.

The light dissipated like the snap of a finger. Fizzled on the screen were two words: Hello, Rory.

I was going to punch Gideon Parkland in the face, the next time I saw him.