“I’ve always wished for siblings. . . . ,” Daiyu murmured and was disrupted by a soft chime. She picked up her Palm at the side of her bed and moved her fingers across the screen, an amused smile quirking the corners of her mouth. “Angela wants to know if she was interrupting anything. She’s on her way up.”
I assumed she had security clearance as Daiyu’s friend, since Angela obviously knew the way to her bedroom.
We chatted more, but the candid feel of the conversation had changed, and we moved on to less personal topics. It seemed barely two minutes later when Angela charged into the room without so much as a knock, her eyes bright with anticipation. I had just settled into a deep leather chair beside the bed, and Daiyu was perched on the bed’s edge again. Angela took in the scene, and she seemed disappointed we weren’t caught in a more compromising position.
“Hullo,” Daiyu said in English.
“Oh,” Angela replied.
“Were you hoping to join us for something other than conversation, Ange?” Daiyu asked with a wicked grin.
I laughed while Angela feigned innocence. Joseph appeared in the doorway, and I cleared my throat. Meiwen sidled past him, a vibrancy of color and swaying hips. “Don’t just stand there like some oaf.” She humphed.
I bit back a smile.
She patted the soft silver waves of her hair. “We lost Helen and Yongming on the way. They’re making out in the garden.”
“I see,” Daiyu replied.
“I’ve never been in your bedroom before,” Meiwen declared, heading straight into the bathroom. “Ooooh, look at this bathtub,” her words echoed to us. “You can fit six people into this shower—don’t get any ideas, Ange!”
Daiyu chuckled and Joseph shook his head.
“Only luxurious baths for me,” Angela called back. She sat beside Daiyu on her bed and took her hand. “Since you’re not doing anything,” she said pointedly, “let’s go back to the party.”
I wondered whose idea it was to follow us: Joseph’s or Angela’s. A message appeared on my Vox from Lingyi: We’re good.
Thank gods, she’d gotten access into Daiyu’s Palm. Guilt prickled my conscience, momentary but cutting; I pushed it aside. This would never work if I second-guessed myself.
“I did put Jason’s flowers in a vase,” Daiyu said.
I stood, adjusting my tuxedo jacket. “I don’t want to keep you from your gala, Daiyu.”
“But I never gave you the tour.” She slipped her heels back on.
“It’s a big house,” I replied. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time.”
“Another day, then.” She graced me with a small smile that only I could see.
My stomach suddenly felt hollow.
Angela pulled her friend to her feet. “I’m ready to bid everyone up on the charity auction!”
Meiwen rejoined us, the train of her pink dress sweeping behind her, and left the room with the girls. Only Joseph and I remained in Daiyu’s bedroom. His stance tensed as I made for the door.
“Stay away from Daiyu,” he said in a low voice.
I paused so we were near shoulder to shoulder. “She’s the one who keeps showing up at my doorstep and inviting me to parties.” There was no need to sound conceited or threatening, because the truth was enough.
He flinched, and I left the room.
CHΔPTER EIGHT
I waited outside in Liberty Square in front of the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall with throngs of other people. About one in ten in the crowd was suited. I’d never seen so many yous gathered in one place outdoors before, but Jin had made a nationwide broadcast via the news stations, com sys, and undernet that he was giving a big announcement here today—one that would change our lives forever. Yous in their suits mingled with meis in the crowds. Dozens of guards ringed the square, their tasers conspicuous at their hips. They were dressed in dark green uniforms, and their shirts all bore Jin Corp’s insignia—the calligraphic character for “gold.” News crews were stationed near the very front at the bottom of both flights of white steps, their cambots trained on the plaza above us that led into the hall’s main entrance.
The memorial hall park was immaculately kept as a symbol of Taiwan’s status. No grime or pollution covered the white garden walls that enveloped the park, nor the beautiful and brightly colored buildings within it. The park and hall used to be open to the general public, but too many bums were making their homes among the lush grass and colorful flower beds, so the government decided to open the park only on certain days of the year, or for special occasions such as this one. I’m sure Jin gave a large “donation” to make this happen.
It was a cold morning in January, and the pristine white walls of the hall with its double-tiered octagonal roof tiled in dark blue stood out dramatically in contrast against our smudged brown winter sky. My views and hearing were unobstructed by my glass helmet, as if I wore nothing over my head at all, but even though I could move in it and my sleek suit with ease, I still somehow felt separated from the rest of crowd. Many meis coughed on the outer edges of the square, a thick, hacking cough that made me shudder to hear it, and I was glad that I had my suit on, so I wouldn’t catch their illness. The unbidden thought was followed by disgust and self-loathing that it came so easily—so automatically. It was so easy to be you. And to lack and want were the complete opposite: hard, cold, unrelenting, and hollow.
I couldn’t feel the brisk air as I had the suit dialed up to a comfortable 72°F. I had turned off the com sys chat that had scrolled at the bottom of my helmet glass, where the yous in attendance speculated on what Jin’s announcement would be, as well as where the party was after this. Never mind that it was not yet noon on a Monday. Daiyu was conspicuously missing in the conversation. She didn’t participate often in their prattle, but my heart rate would always increase when I saw her icon appear, as my suit noted every time, much to my chagrin. We hadn’t seen each other since her gala last week.
My friends had made me go over Daiyu’s visit, the gala, and our conversations twice, although I found myself omitting minor details, such as her secret wish that her father would have another child to take her place as Jin Corp’s heir. How she had promised me another tour of her home with a smile. And in my own mind, I had gone over our interactions many times over—every inflection, every glance, every nuance—enough times that I would never admit it aloud to anyone else. She had said I seemed “familiar almost.” She obviously didn’t recognize me if she had seen my photo passed around, but I was certain that the kidnapping was ballooning within her mind, thrusting against the restraints of the memory-wipe. Would it hold? This concern I never mentioned to my friends either. They would only reassure me once more what the studies indicated, but they weren’t the ones who had to interact with Daiyu, to befriend her only to work secretly against her. They weren’t the ones who had to hold her clear and forthright gaze and not flinch away, knowing the truths that I did.