Free Control by Lydia Kang Page B

See ya.”
    Wilbert slouches in relief, and his extra head sags accordingly. “Come on in.”
    I follow Wilbert into the room, and he points to a circular table studded with tiny lenses. “Carus House. Top level.”
    A three-dimensional hologram showing the top of our building comes into view, complete with agriplane above. Wilbert touches the image, pulls it out to expand it ten-fold. It looks like there are four levels to our part of the building.
    “First, you need to know about security. Marka and I grant clearance. No one leaves or enters without permission from both of us.”
    “Exactly who are you keeping out?” I ask.
    “Everyone. But mostly, Aureus members. We’re valuable to them, so we have to keep a tight ship. To get in, there’s both a DNA screen and the mirror-password program—”
    “Oh! That was like magic! Did you design that?”
    “Yes. We’ll have to set yours up too.” Wilbert beams and his extra head pinks up. “I’m almost done with my doctorate in nanocircuitry. Marka lets me update all the security measures.”
    “You’re done with college? How?” I don’t get it. This kid looks barely seventeen.
    “Oh, this.” He reaches over to tap his other head, which is smooth with no eyes, nose or mouth, but has a soft downy scattering of blond hair. Once again the revulsion swells inside me. It’s like looking at a smashed bird on the street. I want to turn away, but I can’t.
    “My brains take turns sleeping. It’s like having two lives in one. This one”—he taps his normal head—“is asleep now. I’m dreaming of cupcakes. Cy’s wearing a flowered apron. Heh.” He stares off into the cornerless room, and makes a face. “Ugh. Lima bean cupcakes with bloody needles stuck in them. Gross. Count on Cy to ruin a perfectly nice dream.” Wilbert finally remembers I’m sitting here, openmouthed. “So now I’m using my consciousness from this guy.” He touches the faceless lump. “There’s a network of duplicate nerves from each brain to my spinal cord and cranial nerves. It’s awesome. I get so much work done.”
    “Wow. So . . . doesn’t your body get tired?”
    “Sure. I can’t be running marathons twenty-four hours a day. Sometimes my body conks out, and I just read or watch movies when that happens.”
    I nod with tepid enthusiasm, but inside it freaks me out. To be awake twenty-four hours a day, obsessing about everything screwed up in my life? No thanks.
    “Anyway, here’s the layout of the building. Top floor is the infirmary, Cy’s lab, and his room.”
    I perk up. “Cy has a lab? What kind?”
    “Didn’t he show you? He was supposed to give you a tour of the labs.”
    The words
I’m not your cruise director
replay in my brain. What a jerk.
    “We each have our own lab. It’s part of the deal here. Everyone researches his or her own gift. I guess you’ll get a freebie here. Lucky.”
    “Thanks,” I say, but I don’t feel lucky. The one time I could have my own lab and I don’t need it. Unless . . .
    “Oh!” I peep loudly, then cover my mouth. Wilbert jumps.
    “Are you okay?”
    I hardly hear him. All I can think of is Dyl’s trait. With a lab, I could figure out what trait she has, a real step closer to figuring out how to get her back. But as soon as I consider it, Dad’s words slice into my consciousness.
    No more labwork.
    Don’t start something where failure is likely.
    He’s right. I have no clue what I’m doing. Dyl’s trait might be the only thing I can grasp—the only solid step in any direction besides doing nothing—but I have zero idea where that step will lead me. What’s worse, Aureus is a monstrous opponent, and I’m just, well, me. I’m completely blind to the end of this plan.
    And I’m afraid.
    I inhale deeply. Dad’s not here anymore. If I could make him come back and solve my problems, I would. But I can’t reverse death. It’s one of countless things I can’t do. But maybe, maybe I can do this one thing. I