Free The Forgetting Curve (Memento Nora) by Angie Smibert Page B

tested.
    Forms. My summer was going from geek to bleak. Still, I eyed the terminal and mobiles.
    Be good , Mom’s voice echoed in my head. I knew exactly what she meant. This internship was kind of like giving an alcoholic a summer job tasting wine. I was expected to taste but not swallow. Spit it out and move on to the next vintage.
    I wondered what Velvet was doing this summer.
    Roger’s mobile buzzed in his cubicle.
    He listened a moment and then let out a squirrely little laugh. “Nah, he’s just a rich skid,” he said seriously, and then hung up.
    A skid. A script kiddie. It’s what serious hackers called wannabes who ripped off other people’s code or downloaded off-the-shelf scripts from Russian or Filipino boards to do the heavy lifting. Kids like me.

17.0
     

LATHER. RINSE. REPEAT.
     
    AIDEN
     
    For the next few days, I was stuck in a loop of crushing boredom. Face-time breakfast with Dad, who was clearly stressing about this July 1 deadline. Work (in which I behaved). Dinner. Hanging with Winter, who seemed more and more obsessed with her parents not having been in Japan. (I admit this had me worried about her.) Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
    I needed to explore. I needed to pull on a few doors and see what the universe had for me, unearth some hidden world that nobody else knew about. A forgotten steam tunnel. A locked clock tower. An abandoned chalet. A back door to a program. (Even if I was a quote-unquote skid.)
    The Hub in Tamarind Bay had nothing interesting to offer. I’d looked, hoping it was like Disney World, with its underground system for employees to get magically around. Nada.
    “You have one of the new ID chips, right?” Roger asked as he handed me a batch of the newest betas that were slated for fall release.
    “Mine’s about four years old.” I’d gotten an ID chip back when I lived in Tamarind Bay before going away to school. I didn’t need one in Bern.
    “These models only work if you have the nGram, but you can fake it out with this.” Roger handed me a headset. “The ID chip is mounted inside.”
    I looked at him, surprised.
    He shrugged. “I don’t have one, either.”
    “When’s the deadline?” Funny how Dad hadn’t mentioned me getting one.
    “July first,” Roger said. “You’ll be okay. There’s probably some student exemption. I bet you won’t need it at your fancy-schmancy boarding school.” He glanced down at something on his mobile.
    “I got kicked out for hacking the payroll,” I said as he started walking away. “Weak, showy shit really.” I needed to feel him out.
    “You wanted to get caught?” Roger slowed, looking back at me. “And your dad put you here?” Roger seemed amused.
    “I’ve been a good little white hat. So far.” I sighed. “I’ll find something else to challenge myself with.”
    Roger rolled his eyes and then left me alone. He was far more interested in his mobile.
    Not quite the reaction I was going for.
    I was hoping he’d ask “like what?” And then I’d bring up Memento . Somehow.
    Screw him. I’d figure this Memento thing out on my own.
    Problem was, I was stuck. GIGO. Garbage in, garbage out.
    Micah was a wash—at least until he got out of juvie, and even then he might not remember. Should I find Nora? She probably didn’t remember a thing, either.
    Then the universe gave me a big, fat hint.
    The test mobile picked up a crackle and then the sound of a woman’s voice.
    This is the MemeCast. All that you remember may not be the truth.

18.0
     

TIME TO GO OLD SCHOOL
     
    AIDEN
     
    The MemeCast lasted only a few minutes. She told the story of an older man who’d once ninjaed (her words) around the city like a superhero, but was now humbled by the horrific memory of something—a mugging—that didn’t really happen to him. My sources say a little chip might have something to do with it, she said. Then she played a song by a local band about spitting it out, whatever “it” was, which she said was inspired by