How to Lead a Life of Crime

chapter THIRTY-ONE



FIRE WORKS





It’s thirty minutes past curfew. Most of the academy’s students are tucked safely away for the night. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, praying that the door of my room will unlock. I hear the click, and I join the other Wolves as we weave our way through the darkness to the tower lounge. The window is already wide open when we arrive. Ella disappears into the night. The rest of the Wolves hesitate. When I step outside, they start to follow, one by one.

There’s a whistle and a boom. The first firework of the night lights the sky. A shower of stars seems to rain down around the girl who’s waiting for us by the railing. She’s dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, which she wears like battle fatigues.

“Tonight, we’re going to celebrate freedom,” she announces just as a rocket whizzes past the skyscrapers and explodes overhead. “But we’re not here to watch the fireworks.”

There’s a black bag on the ground in front of her. We can all see the folders peeking through the bag’s open zipper. The Wolves edge closer.

“Nice out here, isn’t it?” Joi asks pleasantly.

She seems to be waiting for someone to agree.

“Sure,” Austin offers. “Real nice.”

“How long has it been since you had a breath of fresh air?”

Austin looks around, just to make sure she’s talking to him. “I got sent out on a few field trips last semester.”

“But you’ve spent most of your free time cooped up in that lounge,” Joi says. “Why didn’t you ever try to sneak out to the roof?”

It sounds like a trick question. Austin doesn’t answer.

“No one is listening,” Joi assures them. “There are no bugs on the roof. Mandel can’t hear us.”

“He would have known if we’d come out here,” Leila chimes in.

“That’s right,” Joi says. “How could I forget? The chips. You’ve all been bagged and tagged like a bunch of wild animals. The difference is, animals would try to resist. You let them put those chips in your arms.”

“They’ll be removed as soon as we graduate,” Julian offers in the Wolves’ defense.

“Or so you’ve been told,” Joi points out. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s not. But you know what amazes me? That a piece of plastic and a little bit of silicone could turn the top students at the Mandel Academy into a bunch of trained monkeys.”

A few months ago, those might have been fighting words. But Joi has been making her case since the beginning of June. At this point, the Wolves all know she’s right. Their grades are decided by academy graduates who never could have earned a spot in the school’s top twelve. Their homework is passed along to high-ranking alumni. Even their field trips amount to little more than slave labor.

“I just called you monkeys,” Joi points out. “Isn’t anyone going to argue?”

“We’re at the academy to pay our dues.” Caleb gives her the party line. “There’s a reward waiting for those who are strong enough to graduate.”

“I see. You’re waiting for a reward. I suppose you won’t settle for a banana. So, what is it you want, Caleb?” Joi asks him.

“That.” Caleb points at the fabled Manhattan skyline.

“You want what the alumni have,” Joi says. “Sounds fair enough to me. You guys deserve it. You are the best and the brightest, after all. I suppose the alumni were the best in their day, but I’ve met them and let me tell you—that day is long gone. Now they’re old and worn out. That’s why they have to steal your ideas and trick you into doing their dirty work. They’re taking what you deserve. And you guys are letting them do it.”

“This is ridiculous,” Caleb announces. “You’re making it sound like we’re on some kind of chain gang. I don’t know about you, Joi, but my life has improved a great deal since I got here.”

“It seems that way because they let you think you’re running the place,” Joi responds. “But trust me, Caleb—if one of the alumni ever decides that he doesn’t like the look of you, you’ll end up in a puddle of blood at the bottom of the atrium.”

“I think I’ll take that risk,” Caleb sneers.

Joi nods. “Then let’s talk about what’s going to happen after graduation. Did Mandel ever mention how much of your income you’ll be donating to the academy? Did you ever wonder why the alumni are all so eager to chip in to keep this place running? Here’s why.” She crouches down and pulls a folder from her bag. “This is a file that Mandel’s been keeping on one of the graduates. Listen up, Austin, ’cause the guy’s a politician, just like you. And it looks like he’s been a very naughty boy.” Joi flips through the documents inside. She stops somewhere in the middle, holds the file up centerfold style, and whistles. “Wow. I didn’t even know you could do that sort of thing with a baseball bat!”

The case she’s making is still a little too subtle for Austin. “Who cares what the dude does in his own spare time? What’s your point?”

“The point is, doofus, Mandel owns this man. And one day soon, he’s going to own you too. You’ll be his personal slave for the rest of your life. If you don’t believe me, just ask Caleb. Isn’t that what human resources is all about, Caleb? You guys make sure all the graduates do what they’re told. I bet if an alumnus ever steps out of line, some human resources weasel releases a few juicy secrets on the Internet. Secrets like this.”

Joi holds up a picture from the politician’s file for everyone to see. Leila giggles. Julian howls with laughter. Austin finally looks convinced. If a photo like that ever went viral, its subject would pray for an early death.

“Where did you get that stuff?” Caleb demands.

Joi shrugs. “It’s amazing what you can find if you don’t always do what you’re told.”

“And what do you intend to do with it?”

She ignores Caleb’s question and addresses the crowd instead. “Back when I was locked up in the Incubation Suites, I got a long lecture about the ‘survival of the fittest.’ At the Mandel Academy, the strong rise to the top. The weak fall to the bottom. I thought it sounded fabulous until I got upstairs and found out it was a big sack of horseshit. I’m tired of being used and cheated and lied to. Why are we playing by the alumni’s rules? We’re younger and stronger. We’re at the top of our game. So let’s stop asking—and start taking. I’ve got a little present for you.” Joi hands a folder to each of the Wolves. “Mandel used to own these people. I’m signing the deeds over to you. There’s enough information in these files to make sure we all get what we deserve. Whatever these alumni have, it now belongs to us. It’s time to declare our independence. I know we’re all ready—and so do you.”

“What about the chips?” Leila asks. She’s still not buying it. None of them are.

“What about them?” Joi responds. “How many people do you think Mandel has tracking your movements? I can tell you right now. None. He’s convinced you’re completely predictable. He thinks of you guys as his pets. And do you want to know why?” She’s been holding back, but the time has come to play her last card. It’s a gamble, but it could pay off. “How many of you guys have been given medication in the past few years?”

Leila is the only one to raise her hand.

“What did it look like?” Joi asks.

“Purple pills. Diamond shape. I’ve been taking them since I got here.”

“Has anyone else been given diamond-shaped purple pills?”

This time everyone but Caleb raises a hand. But I can see the truth on his face—he’s taken them too.

“It’s a drug called Exceletrex. The alumni own the company that manufactures it. In a few months they’re going to start selling it. It’s supposed to turn troublemakers like you into well-behaved little ladies and gentlemen.”

Those pills were Exceletrex?” Leila is visibly shaking. I wonder what’s responsible—panic or the pills. “The tech majors have spent the whole year wiping leaks off the Internet. There are scientists who say that stuff could cause brain damage.”

“Could cause brain damage doesn’t mean it will,” Caleb notes.

“Maybe it will eat your brain, maybe it won’t,” Joi responds blithely. “Fact is, Mandel’s been using you guys as guinea pigs. That’s how much he respects you.”

“I came up with the name Exceletrex,” Julian says, looking horrified. “It was one of my first assignments at the academy.”

“They paid off a bunch of government guys to get that drug approved,” Austin adds. “A while back, my Political Science class put together a list of FDA people to bribe.”

“The alumni are going to make billions off Exceletrex, and they couldn’t have done it without you. And how did they thank you? By feeding you the stuff they’ll be selling. Who knows? You might even make it to forty before you start speaking in gibberish and peeing your pants. So I suggest you use your brains while you still have the chance. The files I gave you? They belong to the pharmaceutical company’s investors—who just so happen to be some of the richest people in New York.”

“What are we supposed to do?” asks Max.

“It’s simple. See the name on your file? Find the guy and offer to sell the documents back to him, one at a time. They’ll pay whatever you ask. You’ll all be filthy rich.”

“We’ll be dead,” Julian argues.

“No. I made duplicates of all the files. Let the investors know that if you disappear, a copy of the entire file will be sent straight to the New York Times. No one’s going to mess with you if they know the files could end up going public.”

“And what if you disappear?” Leila asks.

“Or decide you want it all for yourself?” adds Julian.

“If you don’t trust me, come up with something better. You guys have got to stop taking those pills and start acting like predators. A couple of you might end up getting caught. But so what? Look around—the odds are in your favor. And the rewards couldn’t get any bigger. Riches and revenge. I’d say that’s the perfect combination.”

“When are we supposed to make a break for it?” Austin asks.

“Monday night,” Joi says. “The entire academy will be gathered in the atrium to watch Flick execute Gwendolyn. It’s going to be a fabulous show. No one’s going to notice if the rest of us disappear.”

“Flick is going to kill Gwendolyn?” Julian asks.

“That’s the price he has to pay for his freedom. If he succeeds, he can follow us when he’s finished.”

“And what if someone decides to stay?” Caleb inquires.

“Do what you want, Caleb, but if you get in our way, the rest of us will have to kill you.”

It’s a nice touch, and Joi couldn’t be more convincing. The Wolves seem to believe it’s all true. And if anything goes wrong, it will be.

• • •

“Damn, that was impressive,” I tell Joi once the others have left. The firework display has finished, and the city is dark “I was worried they weren’t going to go for it.”

“Yeah, because Mandel’s had them all doped up on Exceletrex.”

“We didn’t know for sure they’d been taking it.”

“We do now,” Joi points out.

“I gotta admit. You’ve handled everything perfectly. And I still can’t believe Curly actually burgled the boss.”

Joi grins. “When you said he couldn’t do it, that’s when I knew for sure that he could. If people think you can’t do anything, you can get away with everything,” she says. “No one’s worthless. That’s the lesson Mandel’s going to learn.”

And the one she’s been trying to teach me all along.

“So you have everything ready for Monday?” I ask.

“Yep. Curly didn’t forget a thing.” Joi pulls her medical kit out of the black bag. I can’t help but notice that there’s still one file inside. “I have all the surgical supplies a girl could possibly need.”

“Are you going to have enough time to remove all the chips?”

“Mandel will have his employees out hunting down the Wolves, and he’ll think I’ve gone with them. He’ll have to lock the rest of the kids in their rooms. I’m guessing I’ll have a few hours to make my rounds.”

“You really think all the Androids should be allowed to escape?”

“Why don’t we try calling them something else for a change,” Joi says. “They’re not Androids. They’re prisoners. And yes—they all deserve to go.”

I’d rather not keep poking holes in Joi’s plan. I just want to make sure that she’s really thought it all through. “The infirmary nurse told me that the chips are inserted right next to an artery. Are you sure you can remove forty-six chips without killing anyone?”

“My mother used to treat hundreds of patients each day. She taught me how to work quickly.”

“I always wondered where you learned how to stitch people up. Your mom was a doctor?”

“She didn’t have a degree. She was still training to be a surgeon when the war in Bosnia broke out.”

I recognize the expression that’s just appeared on Joi’s face. I’ve seen it on my own reflection, but I’ve never seen her wear it before.

“Go ahead. You can ask,” she says.

“How did she meet your father?” It’s the politest way to phrase the question that’s bouncing around in my brain. How in the hell does a medical student end up with a war criminal?

“My mother’s husband was murdered during the Siege of Sarajevo, and she was put in the detention camp that my father ran. That’s where they ‘met.’ And that’s where I was born.” Joi’s voice has the robotic quality of someone trying not to cry. “I was meant to humble her.”

This isn’t a romance. It’s a horror story. But I have to force myself to listen. No matter how bad it gets. And I can tell it’s going to get a whole lot worse.

“When the war ended, my mother couldn’t go home. Her family never would have accepted me. So we lived in refugee camps all over Bosnia that were filled with women and children just like us. Everyone seemed to be sick, and my mother was one of the few people around who could help them. She spent the last week of her life trying to save a baby with typhoid. The baby lived, but my mother caught the fever. She died because there weren’t enough antibiotics left in the camp to save her. I don’t know what would have happened to me if an American doctor hadn’t heard the story. I was fourteen years old, and I had nowhere to go, so she brought me back to the States with her. I had a beautiful room in her house in New Jersey, and I was grateful. But it wasn’t where I belonged. So after a few weeks, I left.”

“I’m sorry, Joi.” There’s nothing else I can say. I try to take her in my arms, but Joi steps back and wipes her eyes with the collar of her T-shirt. She wants to finish speaking while she’s still able.

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I told you about my mother for a reason. So you’d know that I had one too.”

What is she trying to say? Joi knows nothing about my mom. Does she think my mother was anything like the saint she just described? Joi’s mother never abandoned her. Her mother didn’t swallow an entire bottle of Valium. Her mother didn’t follow one son to the grave and leave the other all alone in a world filled with monsters. Her mother didn’t disappear without saying goodbye. The way my mother did.

I wish I could be like Joi. So trusting. So hopeful. I suppose I was once, a long time ago. When I was little, I really believed that my mother, brother, and I would manage to beat the monster one day. We’d find a place to hide where we couldn’t be found. Because Jude and my mother were the heroes of my story. And in every story I’d ever read, the good guys always made it out alive.

“I don’t understand,” I tell Joi.

“I do. I understand everything now. I know why you came here, Flick. If I got a chance, I’d try to hurt your dad too.”

“That’s why I came. It’s not why I’ve stayed.”

“I know. But maybe it’s time for you to go.” Joi dips her hand back into the bag and pulls out the last file. “I added another name to the list we gave Curly. This one’s for Peter Pan.”

I can see my father’s name on the label. But I won’t touch the file. “I don’t want it.”

“I read it, Flick. There are pictures, too. I’ve seen what your father did to the rest of your family.” She can’t stop the tears now. “Jude looked just like you.” Her last sentence is almost a wail.

“Jude is dead. So is my mother.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. “There’s no way to help them. I need to stay here with you now.”

“You can’t!” Joi sobs. “This is your last chance. I can remove your chip tonight. If you leave this weekend, your father won’t know you’re coming. After Monday, he’ll be expecting you. He’ll be prepared.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her.

“No, it’s not! You have to go, Flick.”

“What about Gwendolyn’s execution? What about the show I’m supposed to put on Monday night?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll figure something out. I can handle the rest of this on my own.”

“I know you can,” I say. “But I’m not going to let you. My family is gone. You’re my one good thing now.”