Awaken Read online

  “What’s the fun in getting lost?” I asked. I didn’t expect Justin to answer me, but he started rambling. He told me you see the most when you’re not looking for anything in particular. He told me when you look too hard for something, you get nearsighted because you only see what you want to see.

  “It’s like looking through a microscope your whole life,” he said. “You miss the whole picture. Sometimes you need to get lost in order to discover anything.”

  I stared at Justin as he was rattling this off, like it was just everyday words to him. But I wanted to record his words. I wanted to write them on my ceiling canvas and wake up to them every day. Because suddenly I realized everything he was saying were words I’d been waiting to hear.

  I looked out the window and the sidewalk blurred past as the train sped north along Third Street, stopping periodically to let people on and off. A metal jungle of office buildings passed us by. I stared up at the giant businesses blocking out the sky. I thought about the people who worked inside of them, people who woke up to computers, worked all day behind them, and came home at the end of the day to their flipscreens or wall screens to live vicariously through a life that was more entertaining than their own. That’s what our culture had become, bodies moving mindlessly between digital worlds.

  We passed miles of apartment buildings, and the train stopped in front of the Willamette River Park, the largest public park in town. I looked out at a green expanse that seemed misplaced between the sky-rises. Huge plastic trees swayed back and forth. They were beautiful and so real that if you didn’t know they were fake you would never doubt it; their form and movement were natural in the wind. It was like most of digital life: it wasn’t exactly real but it was such a perfect resemblance people never questioned it.

  “You know,” Justin said, and nodded toward the window. “You can see all of this online. But that’s cheating. No computer program can compare to the physical experience. It’s like learning how to play a virtual sports game. You’re not really playing anything, against anyone. You’re just a spectator. People are becoming spectators of their own lives instead of living them. But the best part is getting in the game. That’s when it’s all worth it.” He looked around the inside of the train and then leaned closer to me. “And I love observing people. There aren’t many opportunities to do it these days, but trains are one of them.”

  I glanced at the two other people in our compartment. One man, in his late thirties or early forties, drooped low in his seat at the back of the car. Two large suitcases sat on either side of him. He looked tired and weathered and his glossy eyes stared straight ahead of him. An older man, his face covered in a thick gray beard that fell to his chest, sat at the front of the car. He was mumbling to himself and swaying from side to side like he was following some rhythm no one else could hear.

  Justin kept his voice low. “I like trying to figure people out. You know, where they’re going, what they’re thinking.” He nodded at the man with the suitcases. “Like that guy. What do you think his story is?”

  I studied his bags on the floor. “It looks like he’s traveling,” I said without giving it much thought. Justin shook his head.

  “I don’t think so,” he whispered. “Look at the shirt hanging out of his bag. He packed in a hurry. Something impulsive, like he just got in a fight with his girlfriend, grabbed everything he owned, and moved out.”

  I looked back at the man and saw anger behind the tired gaze of his eyes. He didn’t look physically tired, more emotionally drained. “Maybe she was cheating on him.”

  Justin nodded. “Definitely something heated.”

  He glanced at the other man in front of the car. “Then, we have chatty Kathy over there,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at the old man who was still jabbering on to himself. “What’s going on with him?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s talking to himself. My vote is he’s crazy.”

  He thought about this. “Maybe he’s normal and we’re the crazy ones. Maybe everyone should talk to themselves. Maybe we’re all just afraid of what we’d say.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. But Justin’s words lingered in my mind like they were on repeat. People were programmed to live inside accepted roles. I wondered what life would be like if we always spoke our minds without having to fear the consequences.

  The train stopped on Hamersley and we both stepped off and headed down the sidewalk. The daylight was fading and I noticed a change in the air, or maybe the change was internal. In the hours I’d spent with Justin it felt like a tight, confining layer of skin had lifted free. It was a subtle transition, a shift that happened effortlessly, like when the rain stops falling and the clouds silently open up to let the sun run out and play.

  “Thanks for introducing me to your friends,” I said.

  “It wasn’t too terrifying?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I see what you mean, about being social,” I admitted. I chose my next words carefully because I wasn’t used to opening up about my honest feelings.

  “Sometimes, online, I feel like we’re not really people. We’re more like characters.” I felt him studying me while I said this. “It’s like living inside a reality show all the time. We edit out the scenes so we can appear a certain way. It makes me wonder if I really know anybody.”

  Justin nodded but he didn’t say anything.

  “When am I going to hear from you again?” I asked as we turned onto my street.

  “That’s why I wanted you to meet those guys. They’ll be in touch.”

  I glanced at him. “What if I want to talk to you?” I couldn’t explain how or why but I felt closer to Justin than to some of my online contacts I’d known for years. He was one of those people who charged the air with an energy you wanted to absorb. Like if you were in his presence long enough, he could rub off on you. And I realized now that being in the raw presence of someone makes you connect on a level that words can never reach.

  He stopped walking and turned to look at me. His expression darkened in a way I sometimes saw my father’s features change when he wanted to hide his emotions, when he felt like his words could hurt. A trickle of disappointment rose in my chest.

  “There’s something you need to understand right away,” he said, slowly articulating each word. “My life, what I do, is really unpredictable. I’m never anywhere for any length of time.

  “You can trust me. I’ll always be honest with you. But it’s really hard for me to be there for people. It’s just the way my life works. The sooner you understand that about me, the better. I contact people when I have a reason to. But that’s it.”

  I felt my own face mirror the intensity in his eyes. I wanted to depend on Justin more than anyone. I needed to.

  “But what if I need to get ahold of you?” I asked again.

  He shrugged. “You can call Clare,” he offered.

  “That not what I asked.”

  Justin’s lips tightened and he started walking again. “I have a lot going on in my life, Maddie. More than you can comprehend.” He spoke the last sentence slowly.

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Don’t compare me to the majority. It’s not the same.”

  I stared at him. “If your time is so precious, why are you investing it in me? You’ve been trying to drag me to that study group for weeks, for a class you’re not even taking. Why?”

  He hesitated for a moment but appeared satisfied with an answer. “Because we all want to get to know you.”

  Our feet brushed the turf in the front yard and Justin and I both stopped to study my house. For the first time, I was embarrassed to live in a mansion. The design is classic: a three-story colonial home covered in dark gray siding, with black shutters outlining each window. It’s easily the largest house in the neighborhood, with six bedrooms and four private balconies. In a house as large as ours, the three of us can live inside all day without even running into each other. Sadly, we’re comfortable that way.

  I loo
ked back at Justin.

  “I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me,” I said. He stared back at me and his eyes were dark.

  “Maybe there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  We stood there, facing each other with our arms crossed over our chests. His eyes pulled at mine and I couldn’t look away. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone what I did when I was fifteen. It was part of my probation terms. My father and I spent months covering my trail to make sure the media never found out the truth, or he could have lost his job. My past was the one thing I needed to keep secret and the one thing Justin seemed determined to pull out of me.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I said. “I’m like every other kid in this country. I go to digital school so I can eventually go to digital college and someday lead a happy, digital life.”

  Justin shook his head. “I’m not talking about everyone. I’m talking about you. And I’m getting the impression that’s not what you want at all.”

  “I’m fine with it.”

  His eyes narrowed with disbelief. “Then why are you grounded? Why does your dad plant bugs on you?”

  I opened my mouth to argue but I didn’t know how to lie to him. Or maybe, for the first time, I didn’t want to lie. His eyes locked on mine but before either of us could say anything the front door opened and my mom’s head peered outside.

  “Madeline, your father’s on his way home from the airport.” She glanced between us and Justin nodded, taking the hint. His eyes met mine for a brief moment and he told me he’d be in touch. I took a deep breath and headed up the stairs to the front door, silently thanking my mom for her perfect timing.

  May 19, 2060

  Here’s the breakdown of a day in my life: My computer wakes me up every morning. You can program whatever morning greeting you want—mine plays a song it thinks I would like. It never shuts off—it just sleeps when I sleep. We have eight computers in our house: one in the kitchen, living room, basement, and dining room. Another is in my dad’s office and he and my mom both have computers in their bedroom, wired to separate wall screens. My dad even has a wall screen in his shower so he can watch the news in the morning. The noise never shuts off.

  My mornings begin with class. I attend DS classes for six hours a day and only take a break during lunch for a protein fruit drink and either a Fibermix sandwich or a VeggieTray salad. The same meal every day. Healthy. Convenient. Fast.

  Based on grades, it appears school comes naturally to me. I don’t even check my scores anymore at the end of the term, but Dad prints them out and calls me into his office to show me the straight As. I used to assume these grades were what everyone achieved, until I got older and took advanced computer classes and realized I’m in the top 97 percentile of my peers. The top 10 percent of DS students are offered the most competitive internships and highest college-placement classes. The top 5 percent are usually scouted by the major digital universities. I guess being in the top 3 percent is especially unusual but it really doesn’t faze me. My dad is pleased to define me with an arbitrary letter based on statistical averages, but I think labeling someone’s intelligence with a letter grade isn’t a sign of their ability. Earning an A in digital school is more than being smart. It means being obedient. Doing what you’re told. Selling out to the system. I show up to class and follow the leader. I earn an A for regurgitating other people’s thoughts, not by forming my own.

  When I’m not taking classes, I spend my free time on social sites with all my contacts. My favorite site used to be DS4Dropouts, made up of teenage kids sick of living their lives behind their computer screens. I made most of my contacts through that site, but after my Rebellion, my dad blocked those sites and friends from my computer. But being compliant doesn’t suit me for very long—it’s like an outfit that I grow out of so fast, I never feel comfortable living inside of it.

  Justin’s helping me understand why I rebelled against DS when I was younger. It’s limiting people. We’ll never realize our potential if we always live inside the boundaries of what we fear. Teaching society to be afraid and stay tucked safely behind their locked doors is not the answer to human problems. It only conceals the problem, like a bandage. It doesn’t fix it. Giving the problem open air and room to breathe, to mix with other elements, is what helps it heal.

  Justin is also reminding me life shouldn’t be a law that a few people impose down on you, it should be what people collectively decide is best and grow from there. Digital school should be a choice, not a mandate. We should have alternatives: real schools, digital schools, private schools, small schools, public schools, home schools, alternative schools, schools in airplanes, schools on the sea, I don’t care.

  I’ll never go to the extremes I went to when I was fifteen to change the system. It almost destroyed my family, and I will never willingly cause that pain again. But I know there are quiet ways to rebel. There are tiny seeds to plant. Even small voices can ripple change along.

  My father’s ideas are becoming my gauge for what not to do. How not to live. What he believes, I suspect. Whatever rule he applies, I quietly write on the top of my list to fight. That is our relationship. Ironically, he inspires me more than anyone because he shows me what I don’t want and sometimes that’s the only way to discover the things you do want.

  I have more online contacts than I can count. I make about one hundred connections a day. I have access to millions of people. I used to think that I had friends in these numbers. But these virtual friends are like stars stretched out in the sky. They’re out there, they exist, and I can imagine what they’re like, but we’ll never meet. We all just coexist in this vast universe with a length of space between us. For a long time I thought that could be enough for me and I’ve been programmed to believe people do better alone and apart; DS always preaches that. Distance is healthy; solitude breeds peace. But in the past few weeks, after meeting Justin, I’m reminded of how I used to feel. Of how wrong that mentality is. There’s a reason why stars can only exist in the sky—they’re just rockets of light traveling through space, so it feels right to admire their form from a distance. People, solid and living and breathing together in the same world, are not meant to be surrounded by that much darkness.

  Chapter Six

  “Hurry up, Madeline!” I heard Mom yell from downstairs. I looked over at Baley, who lay sprawled on my bed, her head resting between her front paws.

  “What I wouldn’t give to be you right now,” I said to her as I dreaded the evening ahead, the annual National Education Benefit. Baley blinked back at me and wagged her tail. I took one last look in the full-length mirror. The worst part about attending the benefit was the formality of the event. Dresses show too much skin for my comfort and heels are the most painful idea of footwear ever invented. Shoes are meant to protect your feet from conditions, not make the conditions worse. My toes already felt squished. I studied myself in the mirror and tried to be optimistic. My green dress, I had to admit, fit well, and the color complemented my eyes. Mom picked out the halter-top design and it clung to my hips, flaring just slightly at my knees. I teased my hair up into a twist, following directions from an online stylist. I put makeup on for the first time in months and my eyes looked magnified, highlighted in black eyeliner and mascara. I walked down the stairs, careful not to twist my ankle in my heels. My mom gasped when she saw me.

  “Madeline!” she cried. “You look beautiful.”

  “I feel like a green bean,” I said, because it was easier to make fun of myself than take a compliment.

  She beamed and told me to turn around. “That dress fits you perfectly.”

  I ran my hands over my hips and smiled. “Thanks for picking it out.”

  “You mean you like it?” she asked hopefully.

  “I’d rather be in jeans.”

  She shook her head. “Maddie, you’re a woman,” she informed me, as if I was confused on this detail. “It’s okay to let people see t
hat once in a while.”

  I nodded and told her she looked stunning, in an elegant black gown that fell nearly to her feet.

  My dad walked into the room in his tuxedo and I glanced at him for a moment with awe. When he wasn’t trying to conquer the education system and control my life, when he was caught in moments of just being an ordinary person, he could be breathtaking. His tall, steady presence usually commanded attention. But sometimes, when he wasn’t trying to run the world, his eyes lightened and his handsome features relaxed. He looked like a real person, even vulnerable. This only happened when he was truly happy, like tonight, in the privacy of our house as he smiled proudly at his two girls.

  We stepped outside and walked to the end of the driveway, where a private ZipLimo was waiting with a security guard at the door. My father always traveled with at least one security guard to his public events, due to all the media buzz his presence generated. When we got inside, the door buzzed closed and my dad’s phone rang.

  While he was distracted with his call, my mom wrapped her arm around my shoulder.

  “You’re going to torture Paul tonight with the way you look.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Paul is so boring.”

  She sighed at my attitude. “Give him a chance, Maddie. You barely know him.”

  “You can’t get to know him. That would require him having a personality, which he doesn’t.”

  “You shouldn’t be so critical of people. He’s smart and he’s good-looking. And he’s tall,” she added, which was one point I couldn’t argue.

  “His personality downplays his looks.”

  She watched me and lowered her voice to make sure my dad couldn’t hear us.

  “Have you heard from Justin?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope, not since he stopped by,” I said with indifference as I picked a ball of fleece off my coat. I spent the first week after having coffee with Justin and his friends expectantly checking my phone, my e-mails, my profiles, my study group chat sites, only to be continually disappointed. The more sites I checked, the more profiles I logged on to, the more times I felt rejected. So, in an effort to save my pummeled self-esteem, I avoided the chatspace he normally found me on.