Free Future Shock by Elizabeth Briggs Page B

Robertsons insisted we each have one, even if they’re ancient models. Katie had to show me how to use it.
    “Just try it again,” Adam says. He’s really persistent, but he doesn’t seem to be judging me. “Take it slow this time so you can get used to it.”
    I stretch the flexi between my fingers, seeing how long it can get. I want to throw it into the road and never use it again, but Adam’s watching me, and I don’t want him to think I can’t do it.
    “Fine.” I smooth the flexi back on my face and it connects to my new profile. This time I brace myself for the experience, and it’s a little less jarring. I know more of what to expect now and I take it slower, keeping Adam’s words in mind. For a few minutes, I learn how to control the device, and it starts to make a lot more sense. It really is intuitive once you have some idea what you’re doing. As long as I don’t go into any more games, I should be okay.
    If I’m going to blend in I probably need a flexi design too. I scroll through the options until I find a basic design of five tiny, black stars scattered around the eye. Perfect—not too in-your-face, and it matches the star tattoos on my left arm.
    Once that’s done, I call up an Internet search. It’s really strange how I can see both the search box and the truck at once, but I’m starting to like that. It means I can keep an eye on the others while doing this. I enter my name, and millions of hits pop up for different people named Elena Martinez . I had no idea my name was so common. I scroll through them, but there’s too much info, and none of the hits seem to be me.
    I don’t have anyone else to search for. No real family, no friends I’m close enough to visit in the future. I could look for Papá, but the thought makes me want to throw up. Besides, if he’s still alive, he’ll be in prison, serving out his life sentence. No help there.
    Instead, I search for Aether Corp. I find their website immediately. They’re still around and have an office in downtown LA. So why was the research facility here in the desert abandoned?
    “I’m not finding anything,” I say. “There are too many hits for people with my name.”
    “Yeah, me too,” Trent says. “This is impossible.”
    Zoe’s head snaps up. “I think I found my sister! She has a website or a profile or whatever they’re called now.”
    “Really?” Adam asks. “Is there a way to contact her?”
    “Um…I don’t think so. Not unless you’re her friend or something. But her last status update says she’s at work and her profile has the name of the place, so maybe we can go there?” Her eyes widen. “We can go talk to her. My sister, in the future.”
    Adam shakes his head. “You can’t talk to her. She’ll recognize you. Especially with your blue hair.”
    “I guess,” Zoe says, her shoulders drooping. “But you guys could talk to her for me.”
    “You sure you want to risk it?” Chris asks. “Going into shock and brain damage and all that?”
    Zoe chews on her nail for a minute and then nods. “I have to know.”

02:53
    Zoe’s sister works at some place on Hollywood Boulevard called Blue Moon. We use the map program in our flexis to find a Metro station within walking distance that will take us into the city. This Metro line doesn’t exist yet in our time, but now the train is packed with people commuting to work or wherever they’re going in the city.
    Almost everyone on board wears a flexi, some clear but most with patterns, and it’s hard not to stare at their clothes that look almost but not quite normal. Many of them are made of something sleek with a touch of shine, and some have moving or flashing lights. Uniform name tags are all electronic, and one guy even has an entire advertisement for mint gum running across his chest, playing on repeat. It’s as if their clothes—smartclothes, I guess—are all computerized too.
    The five of us spread out so we don’t look suspicious in our matching,