Free UnDivided by Neal Shusterman Page B

entirely. Because the nanites are also designed to tweak his pleasure receptors whenever he thinks of anything relating to the military. It’s been filling the gaps like spackle in a cracking plaster wall.
    It’s the peripheral things he still knows that make it so difficult to leave his past life behind. He knows he was in Akron. He remembers helping Connor Lassiter, but the details are fuzzy. Cam also knows he chose to become a hero to The Girl, rather than be a hero to Proactive Citizenry. He could have turned them all in and done the nation a great service that would insure his place in history . . . but The Girl would hate him for the rest of his life if he had done it. So he chose to be a hero to her in a way that would outshine anything that Connor had ever done. And then maybe . . . maybe . . . when she tired of the Akron AWOL, she would see the purity of what he had done for her. And The Girl would love him. Cam chose the long play and was willing to wait. But now, he can’t remember her face, or her name, or anything about her. He never imagined she could be stolen from the inside out.
    â€œIs the prime rib to your liking, Cam?”
    â€œIt’s fine.”
    â€œJust fine?”
    â€œIt’s excellent. Must you always make inquiries of my taste buds?”
    Roberta sighs. “Cam, please, I don’t want to fight. It’s our last week together. I want it to be pleasant.”
    â€œYou’re not coming with me?” Not that he wants her to, but as his “handler” in all public matters, he had just assumed she would.
    â€œNo one wants a doting mother at West Point,” she says.
    That catches Cam by surprise. Apparently it catches Roberta by surprise as well. A slip she didn’t intend to make. It’s the first time she’s ever actually used the M word. Cam always felt theirs was a distorted parental/child relationship, but use of the M word has always been an unspoken taboo.
    Roberta clears her throat and dots her lips with her napkin. “Besides, there’s too much work to do here once you’re gone.”
    That piques Cam’s interest. “What sort of work?”
    â€œNothing you need to concern yourself with.”
    He knew she would attempt deflection. The idea of her focusing her attentions elsewhere brings forth a wave of unexpected jealousy. “Will you be gathering choice parts for the new-and-improved me?”
    Cam notices the way Roberta slices her meat. With smooth grace, the same way she answers the question. “You said it once yourself, Cam—you are the concept car. The perfect design. A pinnacle to strive for.” She inserts a piece of meat in her mouth, chews, and swallows before she speaks again. “Rest assured, we can’t improve on you, and won’t even try. You are our star, and always will be.”
    â€œSo, what then?”
    â€œExtrapolate for yourself if you must, but my work is classified. Just as my work with you was classified. I won’t discuss it.”
    â€œYes,” says Cam with a grin, “the expression ‘eyes only’ takes on a new meaning when you’re surgically removing them from Unwinds.”
    â€œCam, we’re eating. That’s far from appropriate luncheon conversation.”
    â€œPardon my indiscretion.”
    Cam considers. Extrapolates. A concept car is impractical. He’ s impractical. Not what the world needs.
    Dessert comes, and their conversation lapses into the mundane, but the question remains in the back of his mind: If he’s not what the world needs, then what does it need? Or what can Proactive Citizenry make it need?
----
    ADVERTISEMENT
    What if we took the best of all we are and distilled it down into its purest form? Intelligence . . . creativity . . . strength . . . wisdom . . . What if we were able to wash away the unwanted chaff, leaving behind only what was