Tandem

“I’m serious. I don’t want anybody to see you, even through the window. You don’t know how recognizable your face is here. If someone sees you and reports it, it’ll be all over the press boards in fifteen minutes and we’ll never get out of here undetected.”

I waited for him to explain further; when he didn’t, I sighed and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been to Times Square?” Thomas asked. “On Earth, I mean.”

“No.” Granddad wasn’t big on vacations. He’d taken me to Lake Okobogee a handful of times, and Florida once, because he liked to fish, but that was about it. “I’ve seen pictures.”

“Well, you know the big screens?” I nodded. “The press boards are like that, but they’re everywhere, and there are people in this city that I’d prefer had no idea you were here.”

“Like the authorities?” I asked sharply.

“I am the authorities.”

“ ‘Here’ as in Chicago, or ‘here’ as in … Aurora?” I whispered the last word, afraid of being overheard, though there was nobody within earshot.

“Both,” he said. “Now get in.”

I was curled in a ball in the mostly empty cargo area of Thomas’s SUV. He’d draped a blanket over me, and my back was pressed against a long chrome box; God knew what he was keeping in there, but it wasn’t like he was going to tell me.

We cruised along for about ten minutes before we hit traffic. From my place in the back, I could hear Thomas’s muffled swearing. In the dim quiet, I began to formulate a plan.

First things first: I had to get the anchor off. If it was the thing tying me to Aurora, then it had to go as soon as possible. I shifted to face the metal box. If Thomas really was some sort of CIA-style government agent, then I figured it was at least possible the box contained weapons and other gear—guns, night-vision goggles, a couple of hand grenades … knives, maybe. I was hoping to find something I could saw through the anchor with, since there was no way I was going to be able to slip out of it; it was fastened too tightly around my wrist.

But the box was locked. There was a small LCD panel on the front; it glowed blue, staining my skin with cerulean light. I’d just seen Thomas use a similar panel to unlock the car door. He’d pressed his thumb against it, so the technology was probably biometric. Was it set only to recognize his print, or would mine open the box as well? It seemed unlikely, but at the very least I had to try.

When I touched the panel, it changed to the red color of burning coals. I jerked back instinctively as an alarm sounded.

“What’s going on back there?” Thomas called out.

“Nothing,” I told him. “I just accidentally hit this … whatever it is, with my shoulder.”

There was a pause, like he was deciding whether to believe me. “Be careful with that,” he said finally. The alarm quieted and the panel turned blue again. “It’s dangerous.”

I’m sure, I thought. I couldn’t pry it open with my fingertips and Thomas would notice if I tried to break the lock. Whatever the box contained, it was no longer an option. But I wasn’t beaten yet. If there was a way into Aurora, there was a way out. I just had to find it.

I lifted the blanket and crept up to the edge of the window, peering out. We were no longer on the sleepy side street in Lincoln Park—or whatever it was called in this universe. Thomas had navigated us onto a broad avenue; there was a line of cars behind us, horns blaring. Pedestrians gazed at the backup with mild interest. It was all so normal, which I found upsetting, even more than I probably would have if everything had been completely different. My mind wandered again to the goofy worlds Granddad and I had invented once upon a time. Anything you can think of probably exists somewhere, Granddad had said. My ears caught the drone of an airplane soaring overhead. Maybe all this would be easier if there were no reminders of home.

Then I did something bold, something I would never have imagined myself capable of doing: I unlocked and opened the back hatch, leapt out of the car, and took off running.

I had no idea where I was going; all I knew was that I had to get away. I would never be able to get back home with Thomas watching my every move, so I had to escape him, even if that meant throwing myself upon the mercy of a world in which I didn’t belong.

“Hey!” Thomas was out of the car in an instant, following me at full speed. I had a head start, but the pounding of his combat boots on the cracked and broken concrete was getting louder and closer; he was gaining on me, and I was still feeling the ill effects of traveling through the—what had Thomas called it? The tandem. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep up my pace in the hope of outrunning him, if there even was a hope of outrunning him.

I sprinted down the next street, weaving through a stream of people that thickened as I pushed on. I was too afraid of breaking my momentum to stop and look back, but I couldn’t hear Thomas behind me anymore.

Something was happening up ahead. There was a huge crowd of people assembling in what looked like it might’ve once been a park, though the only greenery that remained were the weeds that poked up out of vast stretches of dead brown grass.

I plunged into the throng, shoving my way past men and women of varying ages. Some of them were carrying toddlers on their shoulders, or clutching the hands of older children. As the crowd grew denser, I was forced to slow down, and I started to notice things. The body language of the people was decidedly negative; their faces were angry, their voices, which had congealed into a singular noise like the thrum of an insect swarm, were tense and strained. Many of them were carrying signs or banners, and as I glanced up ahead I found I could read one. It said: WE SERVE NO GOVERNMENT.

I felt as though I’d been doused with freezing cold water. The hairs on my arms stood up despite the heat, and I felt a new layer of fear descend on me—fear of the unknown. Thomas scared me, there was no denying it, but at least with him I had some idea of what I was dealing with, or thought I did. But these strangers seemed even more threatening, though I didn’t know why they were so riled up; that was the most frightening thing of all.

Someone tapped my shoulder, and I whipped around, expecting to see Thomas. But it was just a young guy, in his twenties, maybe even college age, trying to get through.

“I want to stand as close to the stage as possible!” he shouted above the churning cry of the agitated horde. I glanced behind him, but couldn’t see Thomas anywhere. “There’s a rumor the Monad’s going to show.”

“What’s going on?” I asked. What was a Monad? Was that a person? What kind of a name was that for a human being? And yet I felt like I’d heard it before. Where, though? Where would I have ever heard that word? I couldn’t bring myself to ask the guy. Instead, I posed a different question. “Why are all these people here?’

“It’s a rally,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“I can see that. What for?” I must’ve looked strange to him, with the hood of my sweatshirt cinched so tightly it covered my face, especially given how warm it was. I pushed the hood back and brushed the hair out of my eyes.

“Are you kidding?” he asked in astonishment. “It’s a Libertas rally.”

“Oh, of course,” I said with a hesitant smile. The guy was looking at me more closely now. “Good luck getting up there.” I nodded at the large stage that had been erected in the center of the park. It was draped in forest-green banners; they all sported a common symbol, a pattern of ten gold stars stitched in the shape of an equilateral triangle.

I started to work my way through the crowd again, hoping to leave the guy behind, but he put his hand on my shoulder and held me back. I jerked out of his grip and turned to face him.

“Hey,” he said, pointing at me. We were so close, his finger almost touched my nose. “You know, you look a hell of a lot like—”

I caught a glimpse of Thomas over the young man’s shoulder. “I’m not. I have to go.”

I wrenched away and kept moving, ducking my head low to keep from being seen. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally broke through the last wall of bodies on the north side of the park. A voice began booming through the loudspeakers, but I couldn’t locate them in the scrum. It was as if the voice was coming, godlike, from the sky.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice said. It was deep and masculine, strong but musical in tone—the kind of voice that could command an army with a word. “This is the Monad. I regret that I could not join you today, my