vertical and curves all the way around, so that it resembles an oversize donut. Logan’s already found his way inside.
“How did you get in there?” I ask.
“Just duck under,” Logan says. “Careful you don’t hit your head.”
I join him inside the machine. All around me, white lights dance, chasing each other like fireflies across the black screen.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Olivia’s mind figuring out where to land.” William ducks under the machine and pops up next to us. “When the vision comes to her, these lights will form images so we can live it with her.”
“Live it?” Logan reaches out to touch a light, and his fingers bump into the screen. “Don’t you mean watch?”
“You’ll see what I mean.” William passes out headpieces and motions for us to put them on. “The vision will translate across all five senses. You’ll feel like you’re experiencing the vision yourself. You’ll see it through Olivia’s perspective.”
The lights begin to vibrate, drifting together to form a solid mass.
“Here it comes,” William whispers. “Hold on tight.”
My hands are wrapped around black bars. Thick, bloody scratches travel down my arms, and the smell of urine and feces chokes the air. Teenage girls in dirty school uniforms press all around me.
At the end of the cell, a brunette roars and leaps onto a redhead’s back, grabbing her hair and yanking until it detaches in clumps. Another girl in the corner sings at the top of her lungs. Her head lolls around in a pile of feces, streaking her once blonde hair with brown.
Suddenly I hear short, staccato raps against the concrete floor. We all fall silent, even the singing girl. Two people appear at the end of the hallway. They converse briefly, and then the tall one walks toward us. I see a navy uniform and silver hair cut closely to a well-shaped head. Her face is more lined, but the features are unmistakable. Chairwoman Dresden.
I stand on wobbly legs and grip the bars even tighter. “Mom,” I say. “You have to call off the execution.”
She scans past me a few times, as if she doesn’t recognize who I am. She finally meets my gaze and winces. “I told you, Olivia. You knew the price of receiving a mediocre memory, but you wouldn’t listen, would you?”
“My future self sent me a happy memory,” I say. “In it, I held my newborn baby and felt at peace with the world.”
“It was mediocre! You of all people should’ve known what was coming.” A muscle ticks at the corner of her mouth. “It was your vision of the future that showed us what we could become. A race of superhumans.” She wraps her hands over mine, on the bars. “I know you’ve got talent, Olivia. You’re my daughter, aren’t you? Why didn’t your future self send a better memory? You could’ve chosen any memory. One that showed off your superlative skills as a violinist. One that illustrated your mathematical genius. Why did you send this one?”
I straighten my spine. “I don’t know why she did it, Mom. Maybe my future self thought it wasn’t right to execute ninety-nine percent of the population on the basis of their memories. Maybe she knew this was the only way to get you to listen. To show you there’s more to humanity than pure talent. There’s also happiness. And love.”
Her fingers fall away. “Not in this world, I’m afraid. We can’t allow any mediocre genes to contaminate the breeding pool. The execution has been set. You and the other Mediocres will serve your sentence in two hours.”
She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the floor, toward the person I now assume is her assistant.
“Mom!” I call after her. “You can’t do this. I’m your daughter. Your daughter!”
“No.” Her voice carries down the long hallway, and I can’t see her face anymore. The only thing I can make out is her navy uniform. “No daughter of mine is mediocre.”
44
The image breaks apart, and white lights buzz against the black screen. I’m breathing, but the air turns to lead when it enters my mouth. My heart pounds, but the beats scatter like insects in the night.
So this is why. I finally have my answer. I finally know why my future self kills Jessa.
The donut screen whirls around me. I’m in the center, but I’m no eye of the storm. I’m spinning fastest of all, so fast I’m about to collapse. But then Logan grabs my arms, holding me up.
I glimpse myself in the reflection