UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,93

never talked directly to him, just around him. About him. As if he’s not present. While the doctor looks at his tablet, tapping in notes, Camus rises and smiles warmly, extending his hand in a gesture of greeting. 00039 puts his hand out to shake, but realizes he’s thrust forth the wrong hand.

“Red mark. Fumble. Typo,” he says.

Still, Camus smiles and waits for him to switch hands, which he does. He shakes 00039’s hand. “The word you’re looking for is ‘mistake,’ ” Camus says without an ounce of judgment.

“Mistake,” repeats the rewind, owning the word and taking pride in that ownership. Good word. Meaty word. He’ll remember it.

“You’ll make a lot of them,” Camus says. “And that’s okay.”

00039 nods and points to his own head. “Jigsaw. Rubik. Twist twist twist.”

“Ha!” says Camus Comprix. “Tell me about it! Being rewound is like a puzzle in four dimensions!” He sits and gestures for the rewind to sit as well. The doctor continues taking notes, looking up occasionally, content to be excluded from the conversation.

Still not knowing what this is all about, the rewind says the only thing he can get out. “Riddler? Riddle me this?”

Camus takes a moment to decipher it, then finally gets it. “Ah! Big question mark on his chest, right? You’re asking me ‘why.’ Why are you here.”

00039 nods, but then realizes he shook his head instead. Still Camus knows what he meant.

“You’re here so that we can get to know each other. And for me to help with anything you’re having trouble with.”

00039 takes a deep shuddering breath. Is there anything that he isn’t having trouble with? It’s not only a matter of where to begin but how to express it. First are the Enemies. The Enemies have been troubling him since he noticed them. He holds his hands up so Camus and the doctor can see the Enemies for themselves.

“Left-right,” he says, looking from one hand to the other and back again. “This”—he raises his left hand, which is pale sienna—“hates this,” he says, raising his other hand, which is a deep shade of umber brown.

The doctor looks to Cam, and Cam nods in understanding.

“Okay,” says Cam. “So you’ve got one umber hand, and one of your brain bits is racist. Well, that brain bit is just going to have to learn to deal with it.”

00039 nods, not entirely sure that’s possible, but willing to let Camus take him for the ride.

“Think of it this way,” Camus says. “There are a hundred men inside a submarine. They come from different places, different backgrounds. Some are decent, some are creeps, but they all have to work together or that submarine goes down. You’re the submarine. The crew will learn to work together—trust each other, even—because they have to.”

00039 nods. The only submarine that comes to mind is yellow, but he knows that doesn’t matter. It’s the function Camus Comprix is talking about, not the form.

“There’s one more reason you’re here,” Camus says. “If you ask me, I think it’s the most important one.” Then he leans forward, giving more weight to what he’s about to say. “You’re here to find your name.”

The rewind can’t fully comprehend the thought. The brand on his ankle says 00039. That’s the only designation he knows. The concept of being anything else makes the various parts of his brain chafe and itch.

“I’ll bet there are lots of names kicking around your internal community,” Camus says.

It was something that 00039 never considered before, but now that it’s been suggested to him, the names come dropping out of his mouth. “Sean Ethan Armando Ralphy Deavon Ahmed Joel—”

The doctor looks up, raising his eyebrows. “Remarkable!”

Camus puts two pages in front of the rewind. On those pages are lists of names. “These are the kids who were unwound to create all of you. Find a first name, a middle name, and then a last name that really speak to you. Rewind your own name from this list, and that’s who you’ll be.”

00039 furrows his brow as he concentrates, enough to make the seams on his face ache. He knows this is important. The first important thing he’s been asked to do since being rewound. A number of names on the list have been crossed out. Names that other rewinds must have already taken. But more than half of them still remain. As he looks over the list, some names leap out at him as if rising off the page. With the name Keaton comes a flash of a