She takes a step back. "I thought I did. My father had it hidden away in a locked closet. He was saving it, just in case--I knew what it was like, Locke. I couldn't bear the thought of you staying there forever. It was all I could do."
I take another step toward her and nod my head, looking down at the wood-planked floor. "Sure. Of course. Just get rid of your best friends." I look back up at her. "We were your best friends, weren't we? Yeah, don't bother using that Jenna charm on your father and persuade him to liberate us too. That would be too much trouble. After all, you're the entitled Jenna Fox." She backs up to the kitchen counter. "Oh, that's right, you still had ten percent. Is that the magic number?" I glance at a knife on the counter near the sink. Her eyes dart to it too. We play a game of chicken with our eyes, wondering who might grab for it first. "Go ahead, Jenna! Cut me! Do it! I bet my blood's redder than yours! Screw your lousy ten percent."
She freezes, staring at the knife and then back at me. The room reels. I steady myself against the table. None of this is going how I planned. I didn't want it this way. I hardly recognize myself. I bet she doesn't, either. My legs shake, and I pull out a chair and sit. I rub my hands across my thighs, trying to push the tremors away, and then I look back at her. Her eyes are fixed on me, so wide, so blue, so frightened. My anger is overpowered by the ache of a question that has eaten away at me too long. I clear my throat and whisper, "Why did you give up on us?"
I watch her face transform from angry to confused. She is silent for almost a full minute, her lips twitching like she is trying to compose a thought. Finally, when she speaks, her voice is firm. "It was a different time, Locke. It's impossible to judge the past through the eyes of the world you know now. There's been more than two centuries' worth of change. What they did with me back then was illegal, but it was risky too. They didn't know what they would get when I woke up. Ten percent was hope for them. They believed it made the difference. But you and Kara--everything was gone. Your eventual existence seemed like an impossibility. My father's mind couldn't even grasp the idea of doing this behind your parents' back. How could he ever tell them? Not to mention the ethics of it all. He was struggling already with what he had done to me, and whether it was right. It was a different world then."
She edges closer, wary, like I'm an animal who could spring without warning. Maybe I am. She returns to the table but maintains a safe distance. "But I never gave up on you. I did what I thought was right. I did for you"--her voice catches, and I watch her stiffen to maintain control--"I did for you what I knew you would do for me if it were the other way around. I thought it was finished. I don't know how someone got to your upload. It was at the bottom of a pond and--"
"No one got to the one in the pond."
Her head turns to the side like she didn't hear me quite correctly. "How did ... I don't understand."
"Copies."
"What?"
"Come on, Jenna. You have five hundred billion biochips too. Even back then, no one could make a video game without someone hacking it before it even made it to market. People made illegal copies of anything to make an easy buck. Books, movies, software, you name it. A thousand people worked for your dad, and he invented something way more valuable than a video game. Opportunity knocked, and someone took advantage of it. It never occurred to you or him that someone would make copies?"
She steps away like she is dazed. She slowly circles the kitchen and finally stops at the counter, leaning against it for support. "There was a copy of me," she whispers. "'Just in case,' my father had said." She shakes her head. "My God, I should have known, or at least suspected." She whi
rls to look at me. "You said copies." The expectation in her voice is unmistakable. In a hushed voice she says, "Kara?"
I nod. "Kara too. She's on her way here."
And that seems to break the thread that is holding her together. Her face falls into her hands, and she sobs. They are quiet sobs, nearly silent, and that somehow makes it worse. Her chest shakes like something violent has been broken loose inside of her. I see now that Kara and I weren't the only ones who suffered. I can see that she still loves Kara too.
I push against the table to help myself stand. My temples throb. "Jenna, there's something else you need to know." I take a step forward. "It's about Kara--" My knees buckle, and I suddenly find myself looking up at a ceiling looming in and out of focus, and then I see Jenna's face over mine, and then they both disappear.
Chapter 45
"Are you dead?"
I feel small, sticky fingers prying my eye open.
"Yeah. You're dead."
I open both eyes to see Jenna racing through a door at the end of a bed I am apparently lying in. "Kayla! I told you not to come in here! Go on out to the greenhouse with Aunt Allys. She's leaving in just a minute. She has a special chore for you."
I look at the small child at the side of my bed. She has long black hair and shocking blue eyes that squint at me suspiciously. She is clearly dubious of Jenna's commands and doesn't budge.
Jenna tilts her head and says firmly, "Kayla."
The little girl rolls her eyes like she is four going on fourteen. "I'll play with you later," she says before she skips out the door.
Jenna smiles and shakes her head, and then comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Good, I guess. How long have I been out?"
"Almost twenty-four hours, but part of that is my fault. I gave you something. I wasn't sure how it would work with your particular--" She stops like she is searching for a word. "Configuration. But you seem to have a system that responds in most ways like a typical human body, and I didn't want to stitch you up without something to put you out for a while. Besides, you needed the rest."
"Wait a minute." I push myself up on one elbow. "You stitched me?" I look down. My shirt is gone, and when I glance beneath the blanket, so are the rest of my clothes. It looks like I've been bathed. "What did you--"
"Don't worry. I'm over it. You should be too."
I pull the blanket up a little higher to cover my chest. "Where'd you learn to stitch things?"
She smiles. "There's a lot you can learn in two hundred and sixty years. I haven't been sitting around twiddling my thumbs all this time." She reaches over and lays her hand on mine like it was only yesterday that we held hands under the stars. "I'm going to bring you something to eat. If you're up to it, your clothes are over there." She nods toward a chair in the corner. "Freshly washed." She stands. "I'll be right back."