My name is Kerr Flick. Or Cadence. Or . . . something. I don’t know. A month ago, if anyone told me that my Dorm Leader would be offering to break the law for me, I would have laughed. No—worse than that. I probably would have reported them for losing their minds.
But that was before.
Before the Filtering exam.
Before my best friend became an alien.
Before I discovered that I’m not actually Kerr Flick at all.
On all the infotab entertainment streams, you always get some kind of warning about bad things ahead. Ominous music builds. The shadows lengthen onscreen. The hero walks down the darkening street while the camera flicks to the nightmare waiting around the corner.
All I got was a cold, grey concrete bunker and a rush of unwanted memory.
“My mother was a Hater . . .”
Like a starving waif I snatched at Akela’s solution before I could think. Would I have jumped so quickly to retrieve my memory if I’d known what I would find? Would it have made a difference if I knew what was going to happen next?