Thinking back to my debut on the Social Stock Exchange, I remember our last moments together before I went public and everything changed:
“After today, it will be up to you to keep your investors happy,” she said. “Always be a story—the more dramatic, the better. If you do, you’ll live in luxury. Your currency account will be forever full. If you don’t—if you fall from the Index—you’ll be Unrankable. Useless. And then you might as well disappear.”
Wrapping her arms around me from behind, she rested her chin on my shoulder, comparing our mirrored faces reflected on a wall screen. Our house was equipped with the latest in Life Streaming technology. Cameras recorded our every move, and our lives could be edited to movie quality and streamed direct to the Networks with less than a five-second delay.
But we weren’t live. This was a rare, private moment. One that was recorded only in my Book of Secrets; a palm-sized, leather-bound journal with thick vanilla pages. Real paper. A rarity. I kept it hidden in the zippered belly of my sleep sheep, my lovey for as long as I can remember. Its pages were finite, so I savored the moments I recorded, the memories meant for me alone.
I leaned against my mother, memorizing her slim grasp, wanting to stay her little girl but at the same time ready to prove I could fly.
“I love you, Mom,” I said. “Thank you for making my dreams come true.”
Taking my hand, she smiled. “That’s what we’re made of, my love. Dreams.”
Rinsing out the conditioner, I squeeze the water from my hair before pulling the plug on the drain. And now it’s time for the nightmare to be over.
Allard hands me a towel, and I climb out of the water, wrapping myself in soft fluff. As I towel dry my long, hand-painted locks, I picture my bloated lips shriveling, my cheeks deflating without the fat to fill them, and Ella is one step closer to dead for me. She’s destined to be overwritten with time, anyway, stamped out by someone prettier, more popular, more alive.
With a nod, I decide. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Three
June 20X5, Keystone
“Few believe in Keystone’s existence,” Allard says as we walk through the forest. “And we like to keep it that way.”
The thin morning air is crisp and clean, smelling of sweet, wet dirt. Leaves pitter-patter in a breeze overhead, and fire is in the air. I’d love to collapse next to its warmth, but memories lie in the flames, and I force myself onward.
“There are a few buildings visible at ground level, like the Lodge,” she says. We pause in front of a dilapidated stone building with leaded glass windows and broken wraparound porches. It’s so covered in ivy it’s like the earth is trying to reclaim it. “This is our central meeting place.”
“People go in there?” Imagining what sized spiders lurk inside, I shiver.
She smiles. “Yes, but it’s not accessible through any doors or windows. You’ll see when everyone comes back from summer break. The entry points are locked this time of year…not that we couldn’t break in.” She winks. “But we’ll start your training elsewhere.”
“Thank God. That place looks like it could collapse at any second,” I say, following her past the Lodge, our path unmarked. “I’d rather not risk…” My lungs seize at the thought of being trapped inside, and I’m back underwater, fighting for breath. Dropping to my knees, I cradle my head in my hands.
She lowers herself to my side and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re safe here, Elisha. Everything at eye level purposely appears abandoned in case someone ventures this deep into the forest.”
“Does that happen often?” I gasp for air. Am I always going to have these freak-outs?
“Almost never. Breathe with me.” She inhales, and I fill my lungs with her. “This part of the forest doesn’t show up on GPS maps or locators,” she says, exhaling. “The trees shield us from satellites, and we have a bit of technology of our own that ensures we remain undercover. Anybody who wanders back here is lost…or trying to find us. But we’re prepared for that. Otherwise, most of Keystone is underground or built high into the trees.” She rubs my back. “Breathe.”
We inhale and exhale together, and she stays by my side until my heart rate slows and the memories are safely tucked away. Squinting up through tears, I stare at the tips of trees disappearing into the sky, unable to discern any structures. “Do I have to learn to climb trees?” My muscles tense.
Allard laughs and helps me to my feet. “No. We have stairs. But we’ll explore those another day, too. This way.”
We walk for a few more minutes in silence until she stops in a seemingly random place and crouches down. “Today, we’re going to focus on the underground. This is the Vault.” She brushes away dirt and leaves from the forest floor to expose a trapdoor. Swiveling up a round, rusted metal dial, she reveals a combination lock hidden beneath it.
“This access code changes daily and is equated from the number of folds in the origami displayed in the Atrium—the Keystone cafeteria—at breakfast,” she says, turning the knob to a sequence of numbers so quickly I can’t register them. “But the Atrium isn’t open this time of year… There’s also a master access code. That’s one of the secrets you’ll learn once you’re initiated.”
With a click, a handle pops up.
“Here we go,” she says, pulling open the trapdoor.
I peer over her shoulder down mossy stone steps into a dark tunnel.
“And don’t forget to breathe. There’s plenty of space down here. I promise.” She starts down, and, swallowing the perma-lump in my throat, I follow close behind, focusing on filling my lungs as we descend past mud walls teeming with ferns.
“Pull the door down behind you, please,” she says as our heads disappear below the earth.
Panic knotting my shoulders, I tug on the lid, blotting out daylight above us. To my relief, lanterns lining the walls at the bottom of the steps illuminate as soon as the door clicks shut. When we reach the base of the stairs, three identical stone tunnels, all with domed ceilings and lined with flickering lanterns, jut in different directions. She’s right. It’s much bigger down here than I could have imagined, and I exhale relief.
“What is this place?” I ask, my vision slowly adjusting to the dim light.
Allard heads down the tunnel to our right.
“A treasure chest of sorts.” Her voice floats back to me, and I scramble to keep up. “This is where we keep our loot.” She laughs. “And it’s where we study. Disconnects have been adding on to it for over a century. It’s like a secret passageway to every city in the world. Behind each door is a replica of a museum containing both authentic and fake works—including 3-D printed forgeries that have rewritten history. It was never meant to be a maze, but as tunnels have been added, it’s turned into a labyrinth of twists and turns. The true number of galleries and treasures hidden down here is one of Keystone’s most guarded secrets.”