Gotta B Page 2

  ‘How did you go?’ Tal asked.

  ‘Awesome,’ said Petra, shaking her dark hair free of a ponytail. ‘We thrashed the Hawthorne High team. As usual, Jennie ran them off their tiny feet.’

  Tal grinned at Jennie. ‘MVP again?’

  Jennie shrugged modestly. She was frequently named most valuable player, but preferred not to fuss about her athletic skills. She wasn’t tall – her parents were from Seoul, and Jennie had inherited the South Korean slight build and short stature, but she was a dynamite point guard, who could change direction with lightning speed and wrong-foot taller, heavier opponents with deceptive ease.

  ‘While you girls were beating the pants off Hawthorne,’ said David, ‘Rick got himself disconnected.’

  Petra and Jennie looked astonished. ‘Omigod!’ Petra exclaimed. ‘Rick a DC? You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘Would I lie to you?’ David gestured towards Rick, who was approaching. ‘Ask him yourself.’

  Rick was shambling along with sagging shoulders and a grim expression. Tal guessed there hadn’t been a quick solution to his problem.

  ‘We heard about your disconnection,’ Jennie said when Rick joined them. ‘So what’s new?’

  Rick drooped a bit more. ‘Could hardly be worse.’

  ‘Ever the optimist,’ Petra teased. ‘It’s not that big a deal, is it?’ she asked, trying to cheer him up. ‘Your iZod isn’t working, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s more than that,’ said Rick in tones of deepest doom. ‘Much more.’

  Petra raised her eyebrows. ‘How much more?’

  ‘It started this morning at home. I couldn’t get online. No matter what I did, I couldn’t connect.’

  He looked so totally woebegone that Tal wasn’t surprised when Petra grinned. ‘Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘I tell you, I can’t do anything!’ Rick exclaimed, his face screwed up with frustration. ‘I can’t listen to music, I can’t phone, I can’t IM, I can’t blog, I can’t pay for anything, I can’t play TrueSim or Worldstrider with you guys. I can’t even do my homework.’

  ‘No homework? That’s a real blow,’ said David, laughing.

  Ever practical, Jennie asked, ‘Did you go to the school Communications Unit for help?’

  ‘Yeah, the school will be mad keen to get you connected again,’ said David. ‘You know how teachers hate it if you’ve got a real excuse not to do their lame assignments. And if you want an example of lame assignments, check out what Babbage expects us to do for Friday’s class.’

  Rick glared at him. ‘Well, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? I can’t check it out.’

  ‘So did you go to the CU?’ Petra asked.

  ‘Do I look stupid?’ Rick snapped with uncharacteristic anger.

  ‘I won’t answer that,’ David chortled.

  Rick ignored him. ‘Of course I went straight to the Communications Unit, not that it did any good. Kotner – you know, the geeky guy who sweats all the time – started off saying he’d get me connected again in a couple of minutes, no worries. He tried for half an hour, and then just gave up. Said he couldn’t help because the problem was with Commdat.’

  ‘But Commdat’s got so many checks and balances it’s supposed to be error proof,’ said Jennie. ‘At least that’s what Ms Ingram says.’

  ‘Like Ingram would know,’ said David with a sardonic laugh. ‘She’s waaay behind on anything technical. Had to explain to her how botnets worked the other day. I mean, I know she’s only an English teacher, but botnets? Everybody knows about them.’

  ‘Ms Ingram does too,’ said Jennie. ‘She was just letting you play the expert about hijacked PCs.’

  ‘No way!’ exclaimed David, highly irritated. ‘I’m telling you, she didn’t have a clue.’

  Rick wasn’t interested in the extent of Ms Ingram’s technical knowledge. ‘So I ask Kotner what I should do, since he was a dead loss as far as getting me connected again. He said he’d authorise me to use the school interface to contact the government’s Citizen Assist site, so I could register a denial of service appeal.’

  Rick added with a bitter laugh, ‘And then Kotner said it’d speed things up if I got my parents involved.’

  Nobody commented. Rick’s parents had been dead for many years and he’d been brought up by his elderly grandparents. They weren’t remotely interested in modern technology, and with Rick’s grandfather in hospital, his grandmother already had plenty to worry about.

  ‘Okay,’ said Petra, ‘so you logged onto Citizen Assist. What happened then?’

  ‘The usual run-around. It took ages to register and to finally get to the Facilitation and Support section. I’ve been designated a Code Three, so I have to wait while more urgent Code Ones and Twos get fixed.’

  ‘So how long?’ Tal asked.

  ‘Would you believe at least seven days? A whole week! I complained, of course, but the F & S service provider kept saying my problem was important to them and would be dealt with at the earliest possible time, which just happened to be seven days.’ He groaned. ‘I hate those simulated people. It’s creepy the way the computer makes them look like you.’

  Facial modelling was a recent development. As soon as a government website identified the individual logging on, it would use that person’s biometrics to subtly alter the face and gender of the simulated service provider, who would appear on the screen to say in warm, helpful tones, ‘In what way may I assist you?’

  ‘Ms Ingram says the facial resemblance is to encourage you to accept what you’re being told, because you’re more likely to believe someone who looks like you.’

  David made a face at Jennie. ‘I’m telling you, don’t listen to Ingram. She doesn’t know what’s she’s talking about.’

  ‘You’re just mad at her because she gave you a failing grade in our last essay assignment,’ Petra pointed out.

  ‘You didn’t do too well yourself,’ David retorted. ‘Anyway, it was a dumb question. “How does the world end – with a bang or a whimper?” Who cares?’

  ‘I do, actually,’ said Petra. ‘No way do I want it to end while I’m still around. It’s okay if it’s a zillion years in the future.’

  ‘My world’s pretty well ended now,’ said Rick mournfully.

  ‘You’re such a worrywart!’ Petra slipped an arm around his waist and gave him a half hug. ‘Come on – it’s only a week.’

  Rick refused to be comforted. ‘What if it goes on forever?’

  ‘Never happen,’ said David, ‘but if it does, there are things you can do about it.’

  ‘Like what?’ Tal asked.

  David looked mysterious. ‘There are ways of beating the system. Ask George Everett – he and his geek friends can do practically anything.’

  Jennie frowned. ‘We’re not talking legal ways, are we?’

  With a laugh, David said, ‘Hell, no.’

  ‘Don’t you get an automatic lifetime disconnect if you try something like that?’ Tal asked. David always had some scheme to get around things.

  ‘Only if you’re dumb enough to get caught.’

  ‘With my luck, I would get caught,’ said Rick despondently, ‘so anything illegal is out.’

  ‘Oh, cheer up.’ Petra gave him a playful jab in the ribs. ‘My guess is you’ll be reconnected in no time.’

  ‘And if I’m not? What if I’m never reconnected?’

  Grinning, David punched Rick on the shoulder. ‘Then you might as well be dead.’ He added quickly, ‘Only joking.’

  THREE

  ‘I hope Rick makes it tonight,’ Petra said as she and Jennie turned the corner into her street. ‘He has to see his grandfather in hospital first.’

  Allyx had a practice session with the school band, so Jennie had volunteered to come straight from school and help Petra set up for the premiere of BrawnBlasters.

  ‘It was a bad fall, wasn’t it? Have you heard how he is?’

  ‘When I asked Rick, he said Les wasn’t all that good. He’s still
unconscious.’ The corners of Petra’s mouth turned down. ‘Omigod, poor Rick – it looks like his granddad’s dying and on top of that, he’s become a disconnect.’

  ‘It’s awful. And the disconnect bit’s just weird.’

  Petra nodded. ‘It is weird. Have you ever known anyone to be disconnected for more than a few minutes?’

  Jennie felt an unwelcome chill. Of the five of them, Rick seemed to her the least able to cope when things went wrong. ‘He’s on loads of social sites,’ she said. ‘He’s going to miss them. And did you know he’s got an online girlfriend he’s really serious about? Rick’ll be upset he can’t stay in touch with her.’

  Petra looked miffed. ‘How come he told you about her? He never mentioned a thing to me.’

  Jennie had to smile. ‘Oh, come on,’ she said, ‘do you blame him?’

  Petra had always loved teasing Rick, even when they were little kids, and this new cyber girlfriend would be fair game for her friendly mockery.

  ‘So what’s her name?’

  ‘Manda.’

  Petra snorted. ‘Rick is so easy to fool. It’s probably some forty-year-old woman – or man – pretending to be a girl. Happens all the time.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Jennie with a shrug. ‘Rick really likes her, so it sucks that he can’t talk with her.’

  Petra didn’t make a joke of it, as Jennie had expected her to. Instead she said sombrely, ‘Something like this could push him into another depression like he had before.’

  They walked in silence for a moment, then Petra added, ‘Rick needs what my mum calls tough love. We should be telling him to stop feeling sorry for himself and to take charge of his life.’

  Jennie gave her a sceptical look. ‘I don’t think it’s as easy as that. Imagine if you were a disconnect, cut off from everyone else, except when you were face-to-face with them. Wouldn’t you feel bad being on the outer like that?’

  ‘I’d feel mad,’ said Petra. ‘And then I’d do something about it.’

  When Petra was a toddler her parents had gone out on a limb financially to start their own business, Koslowsky Garden Stuff. By the time she was a teenager, the company had grown into a supremely successful enterprise. The downside was that it made huge demands on her parents’ time; the upside was that they could afford a luxurious house in the most exclusive area of Braidworth and employ a full-time housekeeper, so there was always someone there when Petra came home. Compared to Jennie’s modest family home, the Koslowskys’ supersize three-storey dwelling was more a mansion than a house. It was also, in Jennie’s private opinion, overwhelmingly ugly.

  ‘What do you think of our new garden?’ Petra asked as they halted at the wrought-iron entrance gate. ‘Dad’s just had the whole area landscaped. It’s sort of an advertisement for our company.’

  ‘Very nice,’ said Jennie diplomatically, thinking that the area, previously lawn and flowerbeds, was now cluttered with far too many things: two matching marble fountains gushing water, a winding paved path lined with a variety of figures – some classical statues, others whimsical cartoon characters or animals – and an elevated sandstone platform with stone benches so you could sit and admire the display wall of decorative ceramic tiles.

  Petra smiled at Jennie. ‘You should see the place at night when all the lights come on. Neighbours have been complaining. I agree with them. It’s all a bit over the top.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Mum and Dad think the garden’s awesome, not that they’re home much to admire it.’

  Petra placed her hand in the palm reader by the double doors. ‘Did you hear that Yvette Sarno is going around saying she has more than four thousand friends on MySpace?’

  ‘Access granted,’ said a cheerful female voice.

  ‘Four thousand friends? How would you have time to get to know that many? Most of them have to be total strangers.’

  ‘I’m friended with about two hundred,’ said Petra, ‘and that’s plenty. But four thousand? Who has time for it?’ With a mocking smile, she imitated Yvette’s high, grating voice. ‘Oh, it feels kinda cool to have so many people as my friends! Like, this hot guy from Germany wants to get to know me better. Much better. Omigod, I’m so popular!’

  ‘What about you, Petra?’ said Jennie. ‘You’ve got to be getting lots of hits on your MyVibes video. I never knew you could sing and play the guitar that well. Have you been taking lessons on the sly? You’re at least as good as that girl on MySpace who got a recording contract.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Petra, who was rarely modest, surprised Jennie by blushing. ‘Truth is, I’m really not all that great. Dad insisted on spending money to get a professional sound engineer to work on the audio and a director to make it into a cool, flashy video. Dad says it’s the age of the self-made celebrity.’

  She added a little bitterly, ‘Besides, Dad says anything that pushes the Koslowsky name is good publicity. You must have noticed the company name in the background. And my website’s got the video too, with a whole lot more about Garden Stuff.’

  The front door opened into a large area of blue-and-white tiles, in the centre of which was a white marble stand holding a blue vase of deep red roses.

  ‘Is that you, Petra?’ called a voice from down the hallway.

  ‘Hi, Rosa. Jennie’s here too. Tell me you’ve got something interesting for us to eat.’

  Jennie never felt comfortable in the Koslowskys’ kitchen. It was very modern – all shiny metal surfaces and space-age appliances. Rosa’s plump figure, dowdy clothes and warmly welcoming manner always seemed to Jennie to be out of place in such a sterile, well-organised environment.

  ‘Will sandwiches do?’ Rosa asked. ‘Or would you prefer the chocolate cake I’ve just taken out of the oven? It isn’t iced, but you can have it with whipped cream if you’d like.’

  ‘Rosa’s chocolate cake’s to die for,’ said Petra, ‘with or without whipped cream. My vote’s for it.’

  ‘Your mother asked if you’d call her as soon as you came in,’ said Rosa, as she began to cut the cake.

  ‘What about? Why didn’t she get me on my comm?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, but she did say it was urgent.’

  ‘Mum’s idea of urgent is never mine,’ Petra grumbled to Jennie as she called her mother. ‘Mum? It’s me. What’s up?’

  She listened for a few moments, then said, ‘Okay, I get it. No, I won’t let it upset me. Yeah, all right. See you later.’

  Rosa glanced up with a look of concern, but didn’t speak.

  The hurt, angry expression on Petra’s face made Jennie ask, ‘Is something wrong?’

  Petra hesitated, then said, ‘Everyone will know soon enough. Mum wanted to speak with me here at home in case I got upset in front of other people when she told me.’

  ‘Told you what?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much. Just that I’ve been sent a zillion messages online, all calling me a slut, or worse.’

  ‘Petra, that’s awful.’

  ‘Yeah, it sucks.’

  A thought occurred to Jennie. ‘Your parents check your messages? You’ve never mentioned it before.’

  ‘Well, that’s why I delete so much stuff so fast, before they can see it! How embarrassing is that, being treated like a little kid who can’t be trusted?’

  Passing them each a slice of chocolate cake, Rosa said mildly, ‘They care about you, Petra.’

  ‘Care about me?’ Petra’s tone was savage. ‘They’re just helicopter parents, always hovering, watching everything I do. There’s nothing they don’t check out. You call that caring?’

  Jennie thought of her own family. Her parents were very traditional, and although they took a close interest in Jennie and her sister Annie, she was sure they would never dream of invading their daughters’ privacy this way.

  Surveys showed that parental use of spyware programs was common, although teens’ techniques for evading scrutiny often kept pace. Jennie reminded herself that if it was happening to her, she might not always kno
w. The spyware secretly detected passwords and monitored all emails, text messages, chats, website visits and search entries.

  ‘They keep an eye on me from the communications centre at Garden Stuff. If they want to, they can keep a record of everything I do.’

  ‘At least you’re not in the dark. You know your parents are checking you out,’ Jennie said.

  ‘Yeah, great isn’t it?’ said Petra scornfully. ‘Mum and Dad are so busy they’re hardly ever home, but they can still find time to spy on me.’

  ‘Petra …’ Rosa said with a note of protest.

  ‘It is spying, Rosa. That’s why the programs are called spyware.’

  ‘I know you can get other programs that detect and block spyware,’ Jennie said.

  ‘What’s the point? Mum would know I was blocking it, and then she’d be totally sure I had something to hide.’

  When Rosa moved to take something from the refrigerator, Petra took the opportunity to say softly, ‘Jennie, don’t tell anyone about this, okay? It’s bad enough having to put up with being watched all the time, without having everyone feel sorry for me.’

  ‘I don’t think that many people would care,’ said Jennie with perfect sincerity.

  ‘I care,’ said Petra, ‘and that’s enough reason, isn’t it? Promise you won’t mention it?’

  ‘Promise,’ said Jennie.

  FOUR

  Rick hated hospitals. He hated the smells and the hushed sounds. He hated the squeaking sound the nurses’ shoes made on the shiny floors. But most of all he hated knowing that inside the bland walls of the building there were people who were hurt, sick, in pain, even dying.

  Sometimes Rick thought dying didn’t seem such a bad thing. That was probably why, after the accident that killed his parents and sister, the family doctor had referred him to a psychiatrist. Rick went along with it because he had to, not because he wanted to, and was prepared to lie stiff and silent on a couch while some guy in a white coat raved on about how he understood exactly how Rick felt – which of course he couldn’t possibly.