Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Thirty Seven

Fake Enna

"You look stunning," Jeremy assures me when I open the door to my apartment.
    "Well, you don't look too crappy yourself," I mutter, surveying his smart, black suit. I don't think I've ever seen him in anything but work boots and t-shirts. Jeremy smiles, tight-lipped, and offers his beefy arm. I take a deep breath and join him. We slowly start to walk down the hallway.
    "Are you sure the Hidden Allies are alright with this?" He asks anxiously. I sigh. My rocky negotiations with the Hidden Allies, though significantly more sound, are still a spot of great stress for me. I've moved them to the point where they'll do what I ask them to do, but only for some sort of future benefit. In this case, a part in the new regime. Since these dealings are still slightly on edge, I had to doubly make sure that the Reptilians wouldn't protest the Regional Reception.
    "I told you about fifty times," I reply, rolling my eyes. "As long as we stay in the ballroom, there won't be a problem."
    "I know, I know." He grimaces. "I'm just so nervous about how the guests might react to the event. Do you have any idea how fragile the relationships are between all of the countries already? This could either be a huge step in solidifying the globe or fragmenting it further."
    "And you're talking? I'm the guest of honor." I scoff and Jeremy snickers, leading me into the elevator.
    "You'll be fine. You always are. Just don't drop your persona." I stare into my own eyes, reflected back at me in the glass of the elevator. My face is so smeared with makeup that I look like a circus clown, my body so adorned with ribbons and jewels that I'm afraid I might tear or shatter with one wrong move.
    So is the life of a government pawn.
    "Smile," Jeremy hisses. The elevator doors slide apart and I paint a pleasing grin over my features, striding elegantly into the hallway. Men and women of varying ages and nationalities shuffle back and forth, all of them dressed to impress. Occasionally, someone will approach me and eagerly shake my hand, or glance my way discreetly. Some even mutter my name under their breath with contempt.
    I swallow the annoyance that rises in my throat and force my legs to carry me into the enormous ballroom. Repurposed for tonight's Reception, the ballroom towers above me, accommodating hordes of guests from all around the world. Up against one wall, a large stage and podium hovers over the eager guests and their round tables. Bright, sparkling chandeliers are suspended precariously over chatting cliques.
    "Be nice," Jeremy whispers in my ear, drifting off and engaging in conversation with an old man. I sigh and twist my aching foot, awkwardly searching for Charles Heffley. I promised him I'd give an interview; might as well get it over with.
    "Ah, if it isn't the woman herself." I spin around to face a tall, skinny man. His thin, narrowed eyes and long nose give him away instantly: the leader of Russo-China. Black, graying hair lies on top of his square head, perfectly combed.
    "Anton Chan," I mutter, bowing so low that I almost struggle to regain my posture. "What a pleasant surprise!" Jeremy had worked with me religiously to recognize the major world leaders, and to equate their faces with names.
    "The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Price." Chan surveys me with a cold, critical gaze. Jeremy had also warned me that several of the world leaders would try to get under my skin. "I'm looking forward to hearing you speak tonight."
    "Thank you," I mutter graciously. He sniffs and gazes around at the ballroom.
    "This is a lovely Reception, but I must say: the location is far from orthodox." The blood momentarily freezes in my veins. None of these leaders know that the Hidden Allies continue to reside here. After the last World War, when RScreens were implemented, the U.S. government worked tirelessly to keep the Hidden Allies at bay. And to deny the very nature of their existence. "I was hoping that I might have a chance to get some ... fresh air?"
    "Our base has a top notch ventilation system, sir," I reply, trying to keep the venom out of my voice. "There's no need to leave the ballroom."
    "Oh, I'm sure, I'm sure. But, after all, you are so young. Your lungs need not the same quality of air such as an aged man like myself." My mind spins, trying to figure out what Chan is implying.
    "I'm sure you're right," I reply shortly.
    "Could you point me towards the restrooms? Or do they not disclose that sort of information to one so unseasoned?" I start to grind my teeth. I know exactly what he's implying.
    "It's right over there, sir," I mumble, pointing towards the hallway and indicating left.
    "Thank you, darling," he replies sweetly, striding off to speak with another elite. I feel myself deflate a little: speaking with Anton Chan was exhausting, but I'm glad he's gone. Who knows what I might have said or done to him if he hadn't walked away when he did.
    Suddenly parched, I stride over to the beverage table and scoop a ladle-full of purple punch into a small, plastic cup. It smells vaguely fruity. I finish it in three measured gulps.
    "Enna!" Someone calls out. I frantically search the crowd of faces around me, and my gaze eventually rests on Charles Heffley. His round, boyish face and short stature had made him hard to find. I sigh and approach him, forcing a tight smile.
    "How are you doing, Charles?" I ask, feigning interest.
    "It's not about me, it's about you!" He whistles and motions at a table in the corner, where a camera crew waits. "Ready, dear?" I force a nod. He leads me over to the table and I exchange terse introductions with the camera crew. Eventually we take seats and the camera turns on, focusing on Charles.
    "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to this very special edition of High Life entertainment! Tonight you'll find me chatting with your friend in high places, Enna Price!" The camera swivels to me and I smile again. Smile, smile, smile, I think crossly.
    "Good evening, Charles," I say through my forced grin. "It's good to see you again!"

* * *

    I slump over a round table, staring numbly at my legs. For three hours, I'd roamed around and conducted interviews, spoken with haughty bankers and politicians, and shaken almost every hand. I'm not even nervous about speaking in front of everyone now: I just want to get it over with so I can sleep.
    "Greetings, guests and Workers alike!" Jeremy's voice rings out around the wide ballroom, and I turn to face the stage where he stands. Conversations trickle to whispers, and people start to settle down at their tables. Despite my previous apathy, my heart rate increases dramatically. Maybe I don't really want to speak in front of these people...
    "It is my pleasure to welcome you to our secure military Base! Each day, scientists and geniuses walk in and out these doors, bringing with them their ideas and expertise to create the technologies we once thought impossible." I stare at Jeremy as he speaks, but none of the words really reach me. My skull throbs with exhaustion and anxiety as his voice rambles on about who-knows-what.
    "Enna Price!" Suddenly, the room fills with the sound of applause, and I find myself propelled from my chair. It's time already?
    I shuffle up the stairs that lead to the stage. When Jeremy passes me, he smiles encouragingly and nods. The boards underfoot creak under my weight as I walk up to the microphone. Everything is so silent that I can hear the thumping of my heart.
    "Good evening," I mutter, gripping the edge of the podium. Everything after that blurs together. My speech on the empowerment of government, the unification of governments across the globe, the subjugation of the masses... All of it, mindless. When I come to a rumbling finish, eardrum-shattering applause wakes me from my stupor. I nervously smile down at the members of the Reception. They start to stand, one by one. What did I say? Jeremy guides me off of the stage and starts to lead me out of the ballroom. The people we pass raise their glasses at me, grinning widely.
    "Where are we going?" I ask, disoriented. Instead of reply, Jeremy tightens his hold on my arm and leads me even more sternly towards the corridor. Once we enter the relative silence, he whirls on me.
    "I've gotten news from Atlanta."
    "Well, what?" I snap, rubbing my irritated skin.
    "Enna Price is still alive!" He snarls, starting to pace like he always does in a temper. I stare at him, mouth agape.
    "I don't understand."
    "Neither do I!" He roars, kicking the wall. I hear a toe crack, but he doesn't pause. "They said she escaped with help from some of our men. They have the Elliot boy in their custody."
    "Matthew," I gasp. "What are they doing with him?"
    "Keeping him locked up for the time being. They're waiting to see what you have to say about the matter." I fold my arms and stare at the ground, furiously thinking. Things are on the verge of collapse now, and my negotiations with the Hidden Allies seem to be as strong as they could possibly get, taking the circumstances into account. But am I really willing to go to war? If I can't even cling to passion during a rousing speech, how will I be able to direct hundreds of subterranean creatures into the largest city of the world? But then again, Matthew is in my custody and Enna's still on the run. Wouldn't he be perfect bargaining material? Things will never work with Enna Price alive.
    "I think we should start mobilizing the Hidden Allies for Phase Four," I say. Jeremy's eyes widen. "I'll deal with Elliot. It's time for our team to take the Pillar."