NAOMI
I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF A PERFECT DREAM WHEN I HEAR THE sound. I’m back home, sitting at the old dining table that still has Sam’s and my initials carved into the wood, and my loved ones are seated around me: my brother, our parents, and Leo, too. But then a rhythmic series of beeps seeps into my consciousness, interrupting the golden moment.
“What’s that noise?” I ask, glancing around the table.
“What noise, azizam?” Mom gives me a funny look.
“You know what it is,” Sam says. “It’s Morse code, saying you have to wake up.” He leans over and shakes my shoulders. “Wake up!”
I sit bolt upright, my eyes snapping open at the beeping in my room. Dot is in front of me, shuffling her way across the floor toward my bed. I cover my mouth to keep from crying out in amazement. The plan actually worked!
Dot stops dead center, facing my bed. That’s when I see that the AIOS screen in her chest chassis is all lit up and flashing with . . . symbols. But it’s more than just images. There’s also a sound coming from the screen—a vibrational humming, only the pitch and tone are all wrong. It’s a foreign sound that turns my body cold, that sends pins and needles prickling through my skin.
The robot beeps again, urging me in Morse to copy down what I see on the screen. I know why Dot isn’t speaking verbally—in case anyone on either side of these walls happens to be up at this hour. I’ve made the AI believe this is a secret, crucial task from one of the mission leaders, and I feel a stab of guilt at the way I’ve misled Dot. But this is too important for me to hesitate. I switch on the light and run to my desk, grabbing a notepad and pen.
My pen flies across the paper as I copy down one chemical symbol and physics formula after another, not stopping to register what I’m notating—until an image fills the screen, and I almost fall out of my chair.
It’s a sketch of what appears to be a cell, its insides punctured with three nuclei. Just like the RRB.
I’m shaking as I finish copying the figures on the screen. And then, finally, it turns dark. Dot shuffles back to the door, and as I watch her retreating form, I whisper, “Thank you.”
The cell image is a revelation enough, but I still have numerical data to decipher. I spend the next two hours studying it and unscrambling the formulas—until I finally solve the main riddle with a heart-stopping flick of my pen.
C55H72O5N4Mg-CH4-
Chlorophyll-Methane-Europa
Chlorophyll and methane found on Europa.
The room sways as I stare at my notes, and for a split second I am outside of my own body, looking down at the surreal scene of my discovery. Because where there is chlorophyll and methane, there is life. These are the biosignatures I was looking for. And with the RRB cells matching the idiosyncratic image of the cell in this data . . . that proves my hypothesis.
We are being injected with bacteria from Europa’s alien life.
And it’s making some of us more like them—as proven by Leo in the diving pool.
It’s making some of us see them . . . as evidenced by Suki’s cries, and Callum’s breakdown.
As for the rest of us, we may never know how deep its effects go until we land.
I jump out of my seat, too overcome to sit still. This goes beyond any secret I thought Dr. Takumi was keeping; it’s on another level from the Space Conspirator’s theories. But how could NASA and all the reputable space agencies allow this? And why?
Unless . . . Could it be that the space agencies, as a whole, don’t know? Dr. Takumi and General Sokolov have jurisdiction over the robots, which certainly makes it possible for them to keep the data secret. Did they? And what is their endgame?
One thing is for sure: I can’t wait till morning to share this news with Leo. I’m pretty sure I’ll explode if I have to keep it inside a minute longer. I know we agreed to resist the temptation of sneaking into each other’s rooms, but compared to everything else I’ve been up to here at ISTC, stealing into the boys’ dorm seems practically quaint.
I slide my feet into slippers and grab the flashlight under my bed. I can feel my heart palpitating as I make my way down the corridor to the fork that separates the girls’ side from the boys’, imagining what Leo will say to my discovery . . . what the world will say when I release the data. Maybe I can find a way to get it to someone like Dr. Wagner, to shield my family from the fallout of my hacking—
My flashlight hits against another yellow beam. I jump back, fear rising in my throat. I’m not alone. Someone is standing across from me in the dorm corridor, shining a flashlight of his own. Beckett Wolfe.
He tilts his beam of light straight into my face, catching me red-handed.
“Sneaking out of your room after curfew—I could report for you this,” he says with a sly smile.
He looks all wrong, leaning against the wall like he’s been here for hours . . . like he’s been waiting for something.
“I could say the same about you,” I retort, but Beckett just shrugs.
“I’m just getting some air. I’m not the one trying to sneak into my secret boyfriend’s room.”
The breath returns to my lungs. Could he only know about Leo . . . and not about Dot?
I raise myself to my full height, giving Beckett my best scornful expression.
“Don’t be stupid. I couldn’t sleep and just thought I’d take a walk. It’s not any more scandalous than that.”
I turn on my heel and as I walk away, I hear Beckett singing something familiar under his breath.
“When I am king, you will be first against the wall
With your opinion, which is of no consequence at all.”
The haunting melody continues in my mind as I hurry back to my room. I know that song, it’s a classic. So why do I have a creeping feeling of dread?
And then the title flashes in my mind, making me wonder if Beckett saw more than he let on.
He was singing a Radiohead song—called “Paranoid Android.”