this. It’s better than anything you can do at an EntertainArena or PlugIn! People could come here and put together an entire menu!”
“No,” he says and shuts the cabinet door. “This is not for the general public.” He unplugs the device and starts stacking up the books on the table.
“But why?” I grab the rest of the books and follow him through a door on the other side of the lab.
Basil ignores my question as he fiddles with a small key to unlock a cupboard. One by one, he slides the books carefully onto the shelf. I hand him my books, too. Then he takes the machine out of his pocket and locks it in a drawer. When everything is put away, he leans against the counter, crosses his arms, and stares at me with that dark, brooding look from earlier.
“Did you really just stumble in here?”
“Of course. How else would I have gotten here? It’s not like it’s on a map.”
He studies me for a moment, shaking his head. “I might be an idiot, but I think I believe you.”
“Good,” I say. “Because I’m not lying. Who do you think I am, anyway?”
He bites the side of his thumb. “I don’t know, but I don’t think you’re an Analog, are you?”
“A what-a-log? Is that anything like a Dynasaur?”
“What’s a Dynasaur?”
“Never mind,” I say, disappointed.
“Listen, there’s a group of us.…” He turns and opens another drawer then takes out what looks like an actual sheet of paper and an old wooden graphite pencil. “If you want to learn more about what we do…”
Excitement tingles over my skin at the thought of meeting more people like us.
He writes something down with his hand and gives it to me.
“Is this real?” I caress the smooth surface between my thumb and fingers. He nods. “What I am supposed to do with it?”
“Read it.”
I stare at the words printed on the page.
Analogs
Friday
6:00 p.m.
1601 South Halsted
“What’s it mean?” I ask.
“Information about a meeting.”
“But where?”
“The address is there.”
“I don’t know where that is,” I tell him. “Which Loop is it in?”
“You’ll have to head west.”
“Can’t we just link Gizmos?” I reach for mine.
“I don’t have one.”
I almost drop the paper. “What do you mean? How’s that possible? Everyone has a Gizmo.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Not everyone.”
As if in protest, my Gizmo pings and we both jump. “Sorry, probably my friend.” I fumble with the knit holder at my hip, cursing Yaz for interrupting me, but when I pull out my Gizmo, I see that my mom has sent me a text.
Where are you? Can’t reach you by vid and your vitals are all over the place. Locate now!
“Crap!” I say as I text back, Taking a walk . “I have to go,” I tell him and blush at the disappointment in my voice.
“Hey wait,” Basil says. He grabs the paper. “You can’t take that with you.”
“Why not?” I tug on it. “You gave it to me.”
He pulls harder. “Who are you really? And who’s pinging you?”
I yank the paper and we both stumble backward, half a sheet in each of our hands. “Oh no!” I look down at the torn paper and feel like I might cry. “We broke it!”
He sees how upset I am and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” Another one of those funny ripples goes through my body. “But I have to take this back.”
“Then why did you give it to me?” I ask, still clutching my half.
He thinks about this for a moment. “Because I wanted to, er, uh,… I thought maybe you might…” he stops, and I can see a red flush crawling up his neck. He shoves the other half of the paper at me. “You have to read it silently and commit the info to memory, then destroy it.”
I laugh. “Are you joking?”
He shakes his head, and I realize that he’s very serious.
“Okay,” I tell him. I smooth the halves on the countertop and fit them back together so I can read the words again. Then I pull out my Gizmo to give Astrid the info, but
“No,” he says and shuts the cabinet door. “This is not for the general public.” He unplugs the device and starts stacking up the books on the table.
“But why?” I grab the rest of the books and follow him through a door on the other side of the lab.
Basil ignores my question as he fiddles with a small key to unlock a cupboard. One by one, he slides the books carefully onto the shelf. I hand him my books, too. Then he takes the machine out of his pocket and locks it in a drawer. When everything is put away, he leans against the counter, crosses his arms, and stares at me with that dark, brooding look from earlier.
“Did you really just stumble in here?”
“Of course. How else would I have gotten here? It’s not like it’s on a map.”
He studies me for a moment, shaking his head. “I might be an idiot, but I think I believe you.”
“Good,” I say. “Because I’m not lying. Who do you think I am, anyway?”
He bites the side of his thumb. “I don’t know, but I don’t think you’re an Analog, are you?”
“A what-a-log? Is that anything like a Dynasaur?”
“What’s a Dynasaur?”
“Never mind,” I say, disappointed.
“Listen, there’s a group of us.…” He turns and opens another drawer then takes out what looks like an actual sheet of paper and an old wooden graphite pencil. “If you want to learn more about what we do…”
Excitement tingles over my skin at the thought of meeting more people like us.
He writes something down with his hand and gives it to me.
“Is this real?” I caress the smooth surface between my thumb and fingers. He nods. “What I am supposed to do with it?”
“Read it.”
I stare at the words printed on the page.
Analogs
Friday
6:00 p.m.
1601 South Halsted
“What’s it mean?” I ask.
“Information about a meeting.”
“But where?”
“The address is there.”
“I don’t know where that is,” I tell him. “Which Loop is it in?”
“You’ll have to head west.”
“Can’t we just link Gizmos?” I reach for mine.
“I don’t have one.”
I almost drop the paper. “What do you mean? How’s that possible? Everyone has a Gizmo.”
He raises one eyebrow. “Not everyone.”
As if in protest, my Gizmo pings and we both jump. “Sorry, probably my friend.” I fumble with the knit holder at my hip, cursing Yaz for interrupting me, but when I pull out my Gizmo, I see that my mom has sent me a text.
Where are you? Can’t reach you by vid and your vitals are all over the place. Locate now!
“Crap!” I say as I text back, Taking a walk . “I have to go,” I tell him and blush at the disappointment in my voice.
“Hey wait,” Basil says. He grabs the paper. “You can’t take that with you.”
“Why not?” I tug on it. “You gave it to me.”
He pulls harder. “Who are you really? And who’s pinging you?”
I yank the paper and we both stumble backward, half a sheet in each of our hands. “Oh no!” I look down at the torn paper and feel like I might cry. “We broke it!”
He sees how upset I am and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” Another one of those funny ripples goes through my body. “But I have to take this back.”
“Then why did you give it to me?” I ask, still clutching my half.
He thinks about this for a moment. “Because I wanted to, er, uh,… I thought maybe you might…” he stops, and I can see a red flush crawling up his neck. He shoves the other half of the paper at me. “You have to read it silently and commit the info to memory, then destroy it.”
I laugh. “Are you joking?”
He shakes his head, and I realize that he’s very serious.
“Okay,” I tell him. I smooth the halves on the countertop and fit them back together so I can read the words again. Then I pull out my Gizmo to give Astrid the info, but
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