How to Lead a Life of Crime

chapter TWENTY-SEVEN



THE SECOND SPECIMEN





I’m standing on the balcony outside my room, wrapped in shadow. It’s the same stretch of railing where Lucas and I used to talk, and right now I would trade almost anything for one of those chats. I can see Joi two floors below, on the balcony outside the cafeteria. Most of the other students have returned to their rooms, but Joi’s still chewing the fat with her dinner companion—an exceptionally good- looking Android named Levi. He’s number 26. Other than that, I don’t know a thing about him. But Joi certainly finds the guy fascinating. She’s said more to him in one night than she’s said to me in weeks.

I look up. There’s a sliver of light at the top of Gwendolyn’s door on the ninth floor. They force her to attend classes, but she skips every meal. In the week after she lost the Dux title, Gwendolyn was an object of fascination. No one knew what it meant for a student to be left off the ranking list. We all found out when Gwendolyn began to fade. Every day, she seemed to lose a little more substance. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who still sees her.

For a while, she followed me around between classes. I’d glance over my shoulder and spot Gwendolyn skulking a few yards behind me. Or I’d step out of my dorm room and notice her watching my door from the ninth-floor balcony. She almost seemed like a lovesick schoolgirl, though I’m sure she was just searching for new ways to make me suffer.

As much as it annoyed me, it was hard not to feel sorry for her. Now it’s impossible. Whatever medication Gwendolyn’s on makes her shake like an elderly woman. Her eyes are glassy and her appearance is haggard. These days, she’s sunk so low that it’s hard to imagine that she ever truly belonged at the top. Joi talks about Gwendolyn’s reign as if it was all some big scam. She seems to think that Gwendolyn declared herself Dux, and for a while everyone chose to believe her. As soon as they stopped, Gwendolyn tumbled down to the bottom.

I wonder what Joi will say about me. I’m still on top for the moment, but I’ve let myself slip. When the new rankings are posted in three days’ time, there will be only one Dux. I’ll probably make the top five. But I never tried to keep my title. I want Joi to have it. She’ll be a little bit safer if she reigns supreme.

I hear footsteps approaching. They stop, and someone takes Lucas’s old spot beside me. It’s not Lucas, and it’s not Joi, so I really couldn’t care less who it is.

“Spying on the new Dux? Remarkable, isn’t she?”

Mandel has slithered out of the woodwork. I haven’t seen him since the day he introduced me to Mr. Wilson and his nunchaku. I should kill him for that—and a hundred other things. It would be easy to pick him up and fling him over the banister. I’d love to see what kind of splatter he’d make. Three weeks ago, I might have done it without blinking. But his people would kill me, and I have one life to sacrifice. It’s still Joi’s if she needs it.

“I must admit—when I first saw you two together, I didn’t understand the attraction,” he muses. “Joi’s no great beauty, and all those dirty little pets she kept must have been terribly annoying. I assumed you were high on the most powerful drugs known to nature. Hormones can cloud a young man’s judgment until he mistakes lust for love. That’s why I recruited Gwendolyn’s help when you got here. I thought it would be easier for you to let go of the past if your physical needs were being met.”

“If you wanted me to let go, why is Joi here?”

“Because you have better taste than I do. I assumed Joi was just an ordinary female, but as it turns out, she’s nothing of the sort!” Mandel chuckles. “So there you have it. I was wrong. And you won’t hear me say that very often.”

Mandel sounds like he’s a little in love with Joi too. I force myself to look at him. And for a moment, I don’t see a snake. Just a spoiled little psycho in a ten-thousand-dollar Italian suit who’s been allowed to believe that the rest of us are his playthings.

“What makes you think Joi’s so special?”

“Because she’s the only student here who found me. She showed up a couple of months ago and tried to blackmail me into giving her a spot at the academy.” Mandel’s not making it up. I can tell he’s truly impressed.

“What did Joi have on you?” I ask. Then I give him a playful nudge with my elbow. “Come on, you can tell me. We both know I’m not going anywhere.”

“It wasn’t much, to be honest, but it was the thought that counted. Joi told me she’d spent months researching Mandel’s alumni. She followed the money—her words, not mine—and dug up a few facts about a little pharmaceutical project we’ve all been working on. She claimed she had enough evidence to accuse the academy of being an ‘organized crime syndicate.’ I’m afraid it was an exercise in naïveté. Her theory might have been published by some wacky conspiracy website, but no reputable news source would have touched it. Even the district attorney’s office knows better than to tangle with the Mandel Academy. Our lawyers always rip them to shreds. Still, it was a fairly remarkable report. One might even say dangerous. I would have had Joi eliminated after her interview, but fortunately I took the time to check out her references.”

“References?”

“Well, reference,” Mandel corrects himself. “She only provided one. A man named Zoran Zrenjanin. I knew the gentleman by reputation, but it was a challenge getting in touch with him. And I say this as someone who can have the president of the United States on the phone in five minutes. But Mr. Zrenjanin is currently spending time in The Hague. As an inmate in Scheveningen Prison.”

“Where they put war criminals.”

“That’s correct. Are you familiar with Mr. Zrenjanin’s work in the former Yugoslavia?”

“Nope, never heard of him. But if you’re a fan, he must have an impressive resume.”

“Oh yes. Murder on the grandest scale. Ethnic cleansing. Rape. Torture. Organ and blood farming. Human trafficking.” I can hear Mandel’s excitement growing. Then he abruptly stops and regains his composure. “The point is, the man willingly confirmed that Joi is his daughter. Do you know what that means?”

“That any mass murderer is just a phone call away?”

I don’t even think he heard me. “It means that Joi is the child of a predator! She’s a hybrid! I have two specimens now. So even if something were to happen to you, my experiment wouldn’t need to end.”

“It’s a banner day for science,” I mutter.

Down on the sixth floor, Joi is strolling toward the elevator with her Android friend.

“She is captivating, isn’t she?” Mandel remarks. “Always collecting data. She was right about the predator students, you know. They can be quite predictable. And I’ve discovered that with a little medication, they’re easy to manipulate. So I’m keen to focus on hybrids now. Joi is inventing her own rules. Improvising. She understands her prey. She knows how they think. Aside from you two, the academy’s Duxes have all been born predators. They ruled by fear and force. Joi has accomplished what I never thought possible—she’s inspiring the other students to follow her. Soon she could have them all working toward a common goal.”

“You mean your goal,” I say. “So that’s why you’re letting her break all the rules?”

“I have two hybrids, but I only need one to prove my theory. For now I have the luxury of simply observing my second specimen. I still have much to learn about your kind. I must admit, Joi’s behavior here has been absolutely fascinating. She seized power with little interference on my part. What do you think she is planning to do next?”

“I have no idea,” I tell him in all honesty.

“Well, if she hasn’t taken you into her confidence, I’d say that there’s a good chance that she’s plotting against you.”

“You may be right.” That’s what Mandel came to say. He’s pitting us against each other.

“Oh, I’m definitely right,” he assures me. “I was completely up front with Joi when I offered her the scholarship. I told her that only one of you two would survive this semester. That didn’t seem to trouble Joi in the slightest. I don’t think she considers you much of a threat.”

I knew it would come to this. If one of us is going to live, one of us will have to die. But both of us are going to lose.

“What if Joi is the one who survives? What happens to your wager with my father?”

“As long as my theory is confirmed, it doesn’t matter which of my two hybrids prevails. Either way, the alumni will have the proof they require. However, my interest in you isn’t entirely scientific. Your victory might teach your father a meaningful lesson. I’m still rooting for you, Flick, but I won’t be heartbroken if you lose. In fact, I’d love to dissect that brain of yours.”

“Why wait?” I ask. “Go ahead and take it.”

“It’s a very generous offer, Flick. But it makes me suspect that you never opened my present.”

“Present?”

“The folder on your computer.”

“What’s in it?” I ask.

Mandel smiles. “A reason to live.”

• • •

I must have fallen asleep with the computer on my lap. I remember staring at the little blue folder. WHEN YOU’RE READY. Mandel should have named it something else. You’re never ready for the truth. No matter how much you think you know, it always takes you by surprise.

I open my eyes. Peter Pan is floating a few inches off the floor, examining his own yearbook picture on the wall of my room.

“Dad went ballistic when he found out about this,” he says.

“I know,” I snap. Of course I know. I was the one who was punished for letting my little brother go to school in a goddamned Halloween costume. “Where have you been? You said you weren’t going to leave me. You said there was nowhere to go!”

“Just because you couldn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t around,” Peter Pan replies. Then he points at the computer that’s slipped off my lap. “Don’t open his present.”

“I didn’t.” I climb out of bed to deliver my big news. “Joi is here.”

“I figured she’d get here sooner or later,” says Peter Pan as he slowly drifts down to earth. “Don’t know why you’re so surprised. I saw that one coming a long ways back. I left a trail of bread crumbs for her to follow.”

“Bread crumbs? Wrong f—ing fairy tale,” I say.

“Then call it a trail of pixie dust if you want. I knew you could count on her.”

“Count on her? She won’t even speak to me!”

Jude shrugs. “She’s angry. Can’t say I blame her. I’ve been pretty pissed off at you too. The last time I was here, it seemed like you’d made some real progress. Did you forget everything that I told you?”

“What? Haven’t you been paying attention? I’ve been doing everything I can to help Joi. But she’s not who she used to be, Jude.”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it? But we all know what they say about looks.”

“Stop f—ing around! We both know Joi hates me.”

Peter Pan just yawns. “You see, this is why I’m back. It’s all about you again.”

“Did you hear what Mandel said about her father?”

“Sure, but it would be kind of stupid to hold that against her. Our dad is Captain Hook.”

“What if she has the gene, Jude? What if I . . .” How do you put words to the worst thought you’ve ever had?

“Yes?”

“I hurt her. I didn’t want to, but I did. What if there is a gene? And what if I switched Joi’s on?”

“Then switch it back off!”

His glib answer annoys me. I wish there were someone else I could turn to for advice. But my only confidant is an overgrown elf. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“How would you know? You’re not even sure that the gene exists.”

“Mandel says there’s a gene that’s either on or off. Dad says you choose to fight or die. What difference does it make in the end? It’s between me and Joi now. One of us is going to die. The one who survives is going to end up a monster.”

“Those are the only two options?”

“Don’t give me that crazy ‘third option’ shit again.”

“Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You’re having a conversation with a fictional character. And you honestly believe that it’s possible to make someone a monster. But it’s crazy to think that there might be a third option. Interesting. Very interesting.” He arches an eyebrow and strokes an imaginary goatee.

“You’re not helping me!”

“Why are you the one who always needs help?” he shouts back. “Joi’s trying to save everyone. Mandel can’t see it. And the sad thing is, neither can you. If you want Joi back, get your head out of your ass and help her!”

• • •

Forty-eight hours have passed since I spoke to Mandel. I still haven’t opened the folder. The Immunity Phase ends tomorrow. The new rankings will be revealed in the morning, and the Wolves have already stopped treating me as Dux. Joi is their leader now. When Caleb arrives in the Wolves’ Den with a memo from Mandel, he doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. He heads straight for Joi, who appears to be focusing on her own homework for once.

“What?” she asks without glancing up at him.

“I have a list of the bottom six,” he says, making sure that only the top Wolves can hear. The culling should begin as quickly as possible. We traditionally start with the last student on the list, but since this semester has been rather unusual, Mr. Mandel would like you to make the selection.”

“No,” Joi says, returning to her homework.

Caleb swivels around, hoping that one of us can explain the response. “I’m sorry, Joi,” he says at last. “I don’t understand. No what?”

“The culling is postponed. I haven’t finished my analysis yet. I need to reinterview some of the students.”

“But . . .” Caleb protests.

Joi glances back up as if she’d already forgotten he was there. “Yes?”

“But what about Gwendolyn? And number fifty-five is that girl Violet, from your Incubation Group. Surely you don’t need to interview her.”

“My needs are none of your business. I said the culling was postponed. That’s all you need to hear.”

Caleb won’t leave. “I understand. But what should I tell Mr. Mandel? This list came directly from him.”

“Let me see that.” Joi snatches the memo and runs her eyes down the list. “Who decides where students lie in the rankings?”

“The instructors, of course,” Caleb answers.

“And you really think they’re the best people to be making these kinds of decisions?”

Caleb frowns. “They determine our grades. They’re the instructors.”

“That’s right. But they’re not just instructors. They’re all graduates, too. Do you think the most gifted Mandel alumni would choose to be stuck teaching a bunch of delinquents all day? No. These instructors are here because they didn’t make the cut on the outside. So if you ask me, decisions like rankings are a bit beyond their abilities. The people in this room are more qualified than they are. We ought to be the ones calling the shots, don’t you think?”

Caleb doesn’t say a word, but everyone else knows exactly what the answer should be. Leila slams her computer shut and Julian shoots her a knowing glance. Austin sits back and studies the ceiling. Joi keeps rattling their cage. Why haven’t they started searching for a way to break free?

“How long do you think it will take to complete your analysis?” Caleb asks.

“Dunno,” Joi says with a shrug. “Could be a while. I’ve never done this before.”

She’s pretending to read now, but she’s scanned the same page three times. Joi must be feeling the weight of my stare. Her head remains bowed down toward her book, but then those amber eyes dart up and meet mine. And I see the girl I knew on the Lower East Side. She’s still there, and she’s not going to change. That’s why Joi keeps postponing the culling. She’s trying to save all the students—just like Jude said. But she needs more time to come up with a plan, and she knows it won’t be long before Mandel calls her bluff. Someday soon, he’ll force her to either kill or be killed. I know which of the two options she’d choose. So whether Joi hates me or not, I’m going to have to help her search for a third.