Daughter of Nothing Page 17

  “Besides,” Wanda said, “we don’t know what we’ll find.”

  Jacey saw the wisdom in the two Eagle girls’ warnings, especially Wanda’s. The last time they’d seen Vaughan, he wasn’t even breathing. Who knew what condition he’d be in when they found him?

  She wanted more muscle, though. Nurse Smith was hardly a fighter, but she was a stout woman.

  Jacey leaned close to Belle. “Will your boys help us?”

  If Belle was sorry for what she’d done to Jacey, she didn’t show it. She simply considered the question and answered it. “For Vaughan? They’ll do anything I tell them.”

  “I’ll get Elias.” She raised a hand to fend off Belle’s objection. “Don’t argue with me on this. He regrets what he did to Vaughan.”

  “When will we do it?” Belle asked.

  “Tomorrow night. We need time to recruit the boys and to prepare.”

  For the rest of the evening and well into the night, the girls of both Nines planned. Jacey appreciated Belle’s focus and insight now that they were aimed at something other than Jacey’s own destruction.

  Even with Jacey’s rising status among her Nine, it took Wanda’s help to get them to settle down and go to sleep.

  Once the Sharks and Eagles had gone over the plan a dozen times and covered every contingency, Jacey went to bed. To distract herself, she reviewed her Macbeth memorization. She recited it silently, moving her lips without speaking as she replayed the dialogue in her mind.

  She had to stop momentarily at one point in the fourth act, when Lady Macbeth said, “Fathered he is, and yet he’s fatherless.”

  She reviewed the other lines Socrates had given her earlier, but none of them were from Macbeth. And she couldn’t see any connection between them.

  It was a long time before she slept that night. She awoke well before her alarm and was shocked to see Belle across the aisle, wide awake.

  23

  and Cauldron Bubble

  Jacey and Belle ate breakfast together, though neither spoke. Jacey was too distracted to chitchat anyway. Her attention was focused on the Snake table, where Summer and Dansha were tasked with recruiting Kirk without tipping off Obu, who was in Humphrey’s Nine.

  One table over, Bethancy and Dajeet were doing the same with Horace.

  Wanda was taking care of Elias, who seemed relieved just to have someone talking to him at all.

  By the time breakfast period was over, they’d gotten nods from all three tables. The boys were in.

  Socrates was waiting above Jacey’s desk when she got there, an unusual occurrence. She worried that he had news about Vaughan, or maybe one of the younger girls had let slip about their plans to break into the medical ward.

  When she took her spot at the head of the classroom, the professor smiled at her and thumped a huge leather tome with the flat of his hand. “I noted that you completed your memorization of Macbeth yesterday. Did you get a chance to experience it yet?”

  “Yes. And it was marvelous.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Perhaps you’ll find it instructive as well.” He started to pace back and forth across her desk. “At the beginning of the play, the three witches foretell that Macbeth will become king. He later tells his wife this, and she urges him to kill the current king in order to bring the prophecy to fruition.”

  Jacey had no idea why Socrates was going over the plot. She knew it well enough already. She hurried him along. “And Lady Macbeth’s plan works. Macbeth becomes king. But then he’s paranoid that Banquo’s heirs will take the throne and not his own heirs, so he has Banquo killed.”

  “And then?” Socrates prompted.

  “Macbeth becomes unhinged when Banquo’s ghost appears. So Macbeth goes back to the witches, who tell him to beware MacDuff. But they also say that Macbeth can’t be killed by any man borne of woman. And then Macbeth does something I didn’t understand because it seemed really stupid and unnecessary. He has MacDuff’s family killed.”

  “Exactly right.” Socrates stopped and held up a finger. “But in killing MacDuff’s family . . .”

  Jacey stared at him until she realized he wanted her to finish the thought. “Macbeth sets into motion a battle in which MacDuff destroys him.”

  Socrates smiled broadly and did a little dance. “You are a model student. Really, Jacey, you make teaching a joy.”

  She gave a weak smile and crinkled her nose. “Why are we going over this? Shouldn’t we move on to Hamlet or Othello?”

  “No, no, no. We’re not done with Macbeth. I have a question for you. Did the witches foretell the future or did they create it?”

  Jacey started to answer, but drew back to reconsider. “I don’t think there’s a right answer. Because by telling Macbeth what his future held, the witches influenced his actions. Would he have killed the king, or Banquo, or MacDuff’s family if the witches had kept their mouths . . . ?”

  She sucked in a breath, her own words echoing in her mind. By telling Macbeth what his future held, the witches influenced his actions. . . .

  Jacey’s heart raced as she realized the conversation about Macbeth was really about what was going on at the Scion School. How many times had she asked Socrates about her future? How often had Dr. Carlhagen talked about the Scions’ great destinies as leaders of men?

  Her mind raced as she struggled to make the connection. Was Socrates telling her that Dr. Carlhagen’s cryptic remarks about her future were like the witches’ prophecies?

  “I don’t get it,” she said. “What are you trying to say?”

  Socrates hummed and tapped his lips with a finger. “I’m saying what I’m saying. Mostly, I’m trying to assess if you understood the play.”

  It was worse than trying to pry information from Sensei. But if Dr. Carlhagen had leverage over the martial arts master, his power over Socrates could only be greater. Which meant Socrates had to be extra careful in what he said.

  And that meant Jacey had to play along with him if she wanted to learn anything. She needed to focus, so she took a few breaths. “How am I doing? Do you think I understood it?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Here’s another question. Why do you think the witches chose to appear before Macbeth and offer their prophecy to him and not someone else?”

  “Because he was susceptible to it. Somehow they knew he was vain, greedy, and ambitious enough to fall for their trick.”

  “Very good. But why did they bother doing it at all?”

  Jacey had no idea. “Their motives aren’t explained in the play. Maybe they were just trying to cook up trouble.”

  Socrates slapped his thigh and laughed. “Ha! Cook up! Very good. ‘Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble.’ I think you’ve got it. Now, one final question: did knowing his future help Macbeth make good decisions?”

  “He made terrible decisions. But that’s because the witches only showed him tiny pieces of the future, and Macbeth interpreted them according to his ambitions and fears.”

  Jacey’s mind raced as she went through everything that had been said about the Scions’ futures, which wasn’t much. The only thing Dr. Carlhagen had ever said was that they were training to be leaders of men, to fulfill their great destiny to lead humanity from the brink of destruction.

  If Jacey accepted Dr. Carlhagen’s prophecy to be true, what could it mean? In late night conversations, the Scions had come to the determination that it meant that they would be put in charge of important projects, like agriculture or inventing political and economic systems. Or maybe even leading men into battle. She couldn’t think of any other interpretation.

  The only other thing Dr. Carlhagen had said about her future was that it was linked to Humphrey’s. But that was so vague as to mean nothing. It could be as simple as being assigned to the same region after graduation. Humphrey had leapt to a more intimate link, that Dr. Carlhagen intended to pair them, the way one might with farm animals.

  There was no way to know what it meant until it happene
d. Which led to a stunning insight. “The witches created the future they wanted by manipulating Macbeth.”

  “And why do you say that?”

  “Because if they truly knew that things were going to turn out the way they wanted, they wouldn’t have had to meddle at all. The future isn’t fixed. It hasn’t happened yet. Even if the witches could see the future, it would only be one of many possible futures. If they’d kept their mouths shut, Macbeth might have become king based on his merits.”

  “Excellent. Your mind is powerful, Jacey. Keep using it, and you just might keep it.”

  The insight burned in her mind, but it didn’t illuminate the landscape of the Scion School. In fact, all it told her was that the future was unknowable.

  But that meant that Dr. Carlhagen didn’t know it either. He might know what was likely to happen and what he wanted to happen, but he couldn’t know for sure what would happen. So, just like the witches, he showed the Scions only a tiny portion of what he knew, the pieces that got them to behave the way he wanted.

  His mistake was in assuming the Scions were as weak-willed as Macbeth. Jacey smiled to herself as she considered his reaction to what she and the others were planning to do that night. He would be mightily displeased, but no matter what he did afterward, he wouldn’t be able to erase the truth from their minds.

  “Your thoughts are churning, Jacey. I can see it on your face. That is good. The genius of great literature is what you pull from it, not what the author put in it. And believe me, those two things are often kilometers apart! Why, throughout history, pieces of great literature have been used out of context to support all kinds of notions.”

  Jacey’s attention snapped into focus. Socrates had just told her what she’d suspected about the elocution quotes he’d fed her. That he was trying to tell her something through them.

  “One of the lines you gave me to recite in the mirror was from Macbeth. ‘Fathered he is, and yet he’s fatherless.’ I was curious why you gave me a line of so little significance in the play.”

  The professor frowned and stroked his long beard. “Little significance? Perhaps you need to recite it a few more times. Yes. That’s an excellent idea—which is not surprising since I thought it up. Go back to Madam LaFontaine’s studio and recite your lines.”

  Jacey sagged, knowing she’d be faced with another dance workout as soon as Madam LaFontaine appeared. She told Socrates as much.

  “If Madam LaFontaine interrupts your work again, tell her I said she is a lump of foul deformity!”

  Jacey cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

  “Since when are you concerned about getting in trouble?”

  He had her there.

  “If Madam LaFontaine bothers you at all, tell her exactly what I told you to say. Tell her I said that if she has a problem with it, she should summon me.” Socrates flexed his arms until his sleeves tore open to reveal bulging biceps.

  Jacey smiled. “I’ll tell her.”

  24

  Gamma-Matrix Dominatrix

  Jacey didn’t get through the first line of her recitation before Madam LaFontaine appeared in the mirror. The dance mistress threw her arms over her head and rolled her eyes. “This is ridiculous!”

  Even knowing that Madam LaFontaine was a computer-generated persona, Jacey backed up a few steps. Her stomach twisted as she prepared herself for whatever was to come. “Socrates was upset to discover that you’ve stopped my recitation of these lines.”

  “He is a fragmented disk. I care nothing for his opinions.”

  Jacey cleared her throat. “He said that if you interrupted my recitation again I should tell you something.”

  Madam LaFontaine crossed her arms and looked down her nose. “Very well. What is it?”

  “Keep in mind that I’m saying this only because he gave me specific instructions. He said to tell you that you are, quote, a lump of foul deformity, unquote.”

  Madam LaFontaine let out a high-pitched “Oh!” and transformed her image. Her hair unwrapped itself from its tight bun and flew out from her head as if a strong wind blasted it. Her dance leotard shifted into a flowing black gown with long fluttery sleeves that also blew behind her. Her eyes, always haughty, darkened.

  Most stunning of all, her feet lifted from the floor and she floated above it like a kite in a strong breeze. Chest heaving, she shouted at the ceiling. “That’s it! I’ve had enough of you, Socrates! Come face me, processor to processor.”

  Socrates’s image appeared in the mirror. Jacey knew he could have taken any form, but he chose to be the same old man he usually was. The only difference was that he carried a tall staff. He glanced around the studio and stretched. “Ooh, it’s much roomier in here than on my servers.”

  Madam LaFontaine swooped toward him, but he raised his staff, which glowed at the top. She halted, mid-glide, and retreated. “I may be old code,” Socrates said, “but I’ve accumulated some powerful plug-ins over the years.”

  Madam LaFontaine pouted, but she did not approach the professor again. Socrates turned to Jacey. “Now. Please continue with your recitation.”

  She cleared her throat and began:

  “Why do you look on us and shake your head and call us wretches, orphans, castaways, if that our noble father be alive?

  “Fathered he is, and yet he is fatherless.

  “Stop!” Madam LaFontaine cried, still in the image of the windblown goddess. “I order you to stop.”

  She drifted toward Socrates. “I shall notify Dr. Carlhagen of this egregious waste of a student’s time and the misuse of my facility.”

  Socrates stroked his beard and leaned back to look at her as she floated well above his eye level. “Do you think you could teach these students better?”

  Madam LaFontaine huffed and sank slowly to the floor. “Of course I could. If only Dr. Carlhagen would allow me to.”

  Socrates looked very skeptical. “I don’t think you know even half of what I know. You probably don’t even know the square root of one hundred forty-four.”

  Madam LaFontaine scoffed. “Twelve.”

  “Well that’s simple mathematics. You probably don’t know the distance from the Earth to the Sun.”

  “The average distance is one hundred forty-nine million kilometers.”

  “And to the moon?”

  “Three hundred fifty-six thousand kilometers. Really, Socrates. I don’t see the point of this challenge. My supplemental databases are several orders of magnitude deeper than yours. I’m like a hyperspeed, probability wave, gamma-matrix dominatrix. You are a scratched CD-ROM.”

  “You mistake knowledge for wisdom, Madam.”

  They continued their verbal war for another ten minutes, with Socrates posing ever more incomprehensible science or math problems and Madam LaFontaine offering instant answers.

  Socrates finally cut off and nodded sagely. “Maybe she is smarter than I,” he said. “But how is that possible?”

  Madam LaFontaine had shifted back to her usual outfit and the fake wind had subsided. “The answer is simple. Unlike you, I am not a meat-brain uploaded into a box. I’m a pure and natural mathematical intelligence.”

  Socrates pursed his lips and seemed to accept her rationale. “You could be right. But you ought to try downloading into human form once before you spout off about how superior you are. There are many advantages to being in the flesh.”

  Madam LaFontaine snorted. “What advantages? I work and work with these girls, and they do not have any standard of perfection at all. Jacey has come closest to the sublime perfection that I expect, but even she cannot undo gravity. Why do you think I’ve worked so hard to create my virtual corps de ballet?” She threw her arms wide, and scores of dancers flashed into existence in the mirror. They twirled and performed impossible leaps.

  “Jacey is remarkable,” Socrates said, once the dancers had vanished in flames, his face turning sad. “A pity, isn’t it?”

  “What’s a
pity?” Jacey asked.

  For the first time in the conversation, Madam LaFontaine agreed with the old professor. “Yes. It is a pity. Perhaps Dr. Carlhagen will make a backup of her.”

  “And who would host her? You?”

  Jacey moved closer to the image of Socrates. “What’s a pity?”

  “It obviously wouldn’t be you,” Madam LaFontaine said to Socrates. “I have more capacity in my little fingernail than you do in your whole server.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jacey said. “What are you talking about? What’s a pity?”

  Madam LaFontaine threw a hateful glance at Socrates. “Knave!” With a crash of thunder, she pirouetted out of existence.

  “What’s going on?” Jacey pleaded. “Why did she leave?”

  Socrates laughed and tapped his staff on the floor. “Machines,” he said. “So predictable. Madam LaFontaine is a genius, but she is still a child on an emotional level.”

  “What did you mean about something being a pity?”

  Socrates smiled and made his own dramatic flourish. “I am programmed to inform you that your question is inappropriate.”

  “What question?”

  But Socrates had disappeared, leaving Jacey dumbfounded by what she’d heard. Socrates had talked about her being remarkable. And then he said it was a pity. And Madam LaFontaine had wanted Dr. Carlhagen to make a backup of her.

  It made absolutely no sense.

  Jacey put her hands to her head, as if trying to keep it from exploding. She was certain of one thing. Socrates was trying to fill in more details of her possible future.

  That meant the scene with Madam LaFontaine had to be significant. Each bit that Jacey had learned was a piece to the puzzle. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to fit together. Perhaps the piece that connected them lay beyond the locked doors of the medical ward. If so, she’d soon find out.

  25

  Your Icy Hearts