someone offered an arm to lean on. But getting help from Ms. Takagi meant admitting to my idol Ms. Takagi that I needed help. I thought about Grig and sighed. Every time I think I’ve spent the last of my pride, it reanimates in time to pay up again.
“Yeah.” The step from the curb to the SUV was a little too far for me to climb in by myself. I planted my feet on the ground and struggled to bear my body weight through my unsteady legs. Ms. Takagi pressed her hand at my back as I walked. I gripped the door to hold me steady, but my knees buckled beneath me and I half fell into the seat from the force.
I wouldn’t get top scores for the landing, but I’d made it into the car.
Mostly.
“Can I help you in anyway? Perhaps lift your legs into the car?” she offered, because clearly she’d noticed how tired the transfer had made me.
I could have done it. I still have that ability, but the exertion necessary would mean I wouldn’t have the energy I’d need later.
“Yes,” I said, resigned. “Thank you.”
She lifted my feet into the car. I settled into the passenger seat as she pulled the seat belt down. I grabbed it once it was low enough and fastened it myself. I watched as Ms. Takagi pushed my wheelchair to the back of the SUV. My mom couldn’t help herself and all but ran down the driveway to take over. A slight tension in my neck relaxed. My wheelchair, which I called Voyager, both for the NASA implications, and also for Star Trek reasons, was more expensive than my dad’s car and the idea that it could be damaged set my already nervous system into hyperdrive. Voyager was my ticket to freedom; it was like another part of me. My mom made sure it was loaded correctly and that the extra battery was charged, and then she had to come kiss my cheek one more time and to ask about the level of care at the facility and if they’d have any mobility devices ready and then about the accessibility of Stonebright’s campus and seriously she would never let us leave.
“Mom,” I said. If she kept talking, she would talk herself out of letting me go. “I’m fine.”
She stood and waved as Ms. Takagi shut her door.
We nodded at each other, both of us trying to hide our nerves.
The car hummed and pulled forward, blasting pop music from the radio. Ms. Takagi always seemed so posh and elegant. Weird she’d be so interested in a former member of a boy band. The head of security followed behind us in a shiny car.
“What’s really happening?” I asked.
Her knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. “There’s something wrong with the game. The source code has corrupted and now the players are trapped. At first I could get in. As soon as I realized the source code was deteriorating, I found a back door and tried to get Ryo out. Instead, I had to watch him die in the game. I watched my game hurt him, as the code corrupted even more. Eventually I couldn’t get back in, so I found another back door and sent a message through seer water to the next player to drink. But now even that back door has closed.”
“It’s okay, Ms. Takagi. I can still get in. And with your equipment, your gloriously not duct-taped equipment, I can do whatever you need.”
“There’s a chance you’ll get stuck in the game as well.” Her eyes clouded. “There’s a chance this could kill you.”
“What?”
She turned away. “There are so many lives to protect. I’m doing everything possible to get everyone out. But if you keep breaking in without our assistance, you will damage the source code further.”
I stared at the passing streets, hoping it was the speed that blurred the buildings and not tears.
“You’re so young. If there was any other choice, I’d keep you out of this. The last thing I want is to put another life at risk. I’ve tried to take over your avatar, but it’s biocoded to you. You are the only one who can get in there and help. I need you to go in there and give them a message. Ryo needs to drink the seer water and get game vision. I’ll help you. You won’t have to go through my security system. The team thinks we’ll be able to give your avatar the ability