Free Pulse by Patrick Carman Page B

could heal itself. Hawk had said it best: “It’s a simple matter of biomechanics and technology converging. What’s not to understand?”
    Liz held on to Faith’s view of things, that the white van had found Noah’s family so fast there had been no time for good-byes, because any other version of events was too heartbreaking to bear. And it really did go down that way sometimes. Liz had seen it happen more than once. At first she thought it was terrible the way her friends would leave without a word, not even a final farewell in the form of a Tablet message. It wasn’t until this had happened twice that her mother told her not to worry.
    “This is the way it works, Lizzy. There’s a lot of talk about leaving or staying, but when the decision is made and a family makes that call, the Tablets get shut off. A few minutes later they’re picked up. It’s exciting, sort of. And they’re not gone forever. They’ve only moved away. Remember that.”
    Liz seized on this important piece of information as well. It was one of the most persuasive reasons to leave the old world behind: Noah was inside the Western State, waiting for her. And not just Noah; everyone was in there having the time of their lives, and they were communicating about it. They had Tablets, but they were tied into the G12, a network no one on the outside had access to. She had a fantasy that Noah was sending out distress signals, trying to find her, waiting for her impending arrival like his life depended on it.
    Seeing Faith talk to someone like Wade Quinn made Liz wonder how long it would be before her best friend had her heart broken. How long did Faith think someone like Wade was going to last outside? What was he even doing out here so late in the game? Liz knew, better than anyone, that it wouldn’t be long. Once Wade went to the Field Games in the Western State, he’d never come back. It was a virtual guarantee. What was Faith thinking getting into a relationship with a guy like that? He was a short-timer with only one thing on his mind.
    At least when Wade Quinn was gone and Faith’s heart was smashed into pieces, there would be an empty hand for Liz to hold on to. By then, Liz promised herself, she wouldn’t need Faith’s comfort nearly as much. She would get stronger, less needy. The tables would be turned. Maybe Liz would offer her hand, maybe she wouldn’t.
    Liz wore a rubber band on her wrist; and taking it between the thumb and index finger of her other hand, she pulled it four or five inches away, feeling it dig into her skin on the palm side of her wrist. When she let go, it snapped, stinging almost enough to make her wince. She was happy to feel the pain against her skin, and she realized with some regret that she wasn’t feeling much of anything inside anymore. She sat on the curb at the mall, staring at the empty buildings and wondering what would become of her.
    She didn’t have to wait long for an answer.
    Her Tablet vibrated, and Liz took it out of her pack, touching the perfectly slick screen. A message had arrived from her mother.
Come home. We need to talk.
    The screen on Liz’s Tablet went black. She swiped her finger across the surface four or five times, but there was nothing. She was confused but not alarmed, turning the Tablet over in her hands, trying to shake it awake.
    “I really have to stop dropping this thing,” she mumbled. But then, turning it over and seeing her dim reflection in the glass, she understood. Her Tablet was dead. It wasn’t broken. It had been turned off.
    She’d wondered for a long time what it would be like when this happened, a light going out in her life.
    “Looks like I won’t be seeing you in class tomorrow.”
    Liz wheeled around and stood up, backing away from a voice she wasn’t completely sure she recognized. Night was gathering around her, and the streetlights had long since stopped working, which made it hard to be completely sure of who it was walking slowly toward