The Last Days of Lorien by Pittacus Lore Page B

he said, holding his wrist out. “Last step. I need to sync my band to the one we just gave the kid.”
    I took Daxin’s wrist in his hand and looked down at the brass band encircling it. Most ID bands were just that—plain bands with all the circuitry inside, so they looked almost like regular jewelry. Daxin’s was different. It had a small digital interface and a couple of buttons on it. “Just hold the black button down while I start the sync.” As I held the button down, he started entering commands on his communication module, which were presumably being relayed to the ID band.
    “Pretty unwieldy,” I said.
    “Seriously,” said Daxin, still typing into his tab. “Since I got this upgraded ID band and locator I’ve had to take it off every night. It’s too big and heavy to sleep in.”
    I stared down at the band on Daxin’s wrist, looking at it in a new light. It was no longer just an ID, or a locator.
    It was a key.
    That night I lay on my bunk before dinner, processing the events of the day. There was no denying that the place was starting to get under my skin. A month ago I wouldn’t have cared that the grid was in sorry shape. A month ago, I barely knew what the grid was , for that matter.
    But this morning, when Devektra had come along and had called me one of “those people,” I hadn’t corrected her. I’d actually felt almost insulted. I guess this place was rubbing off on me.
    I can’t say I liked it. I was supposed to be the kind of guy who did my own thing and had my own opinions. I wasn’t a joiner. Things weren’t supposed to just rub off on me.
    “Good work today,” Rapp said, popping by the room to grab a couple of books from his desk just before dinner.
    “I was slow,” I said. “Next time I’ll do better.”
    Rapp shook his head like he couldn’t believe me. “Oh, whatever,” he said. “You act like you don’t care, and then you go and get all competitive. How’d things go with Daxin?”
    “Fine,” I said. A part of me wanted to unload on Rapp, to talk about how weird the afternoon had been, but something made me hold back. “How was the rest of your grid maintenance?”
    “One out of every three patches I serviced was broken. I’ve never seen it so bad before.”
    I perked up at this. He had noticed the conspicuous failure rate too.
    “You going to do anything about it?” I asked, trying to sound more neutral than I felt.
    “Like what? I put it in my work report. The academy knows, the council knows. It’s the rest of the planet that’s determined to do nothing. The Kabarakians don’t see the value in a defense system that only covers the city and leaves them exposed. And half the city thinks we’re all just doing this to amuse ourselves. I seem to remember that you’re one of those people. Right?”
    I brushed him off. “If we’re going to do it, we might as well do it right. Right? Otherwise the whole thing really is a waste.”
    Rapp left the room for dinner but I stayed behind, thinking about the Quartermoon concert at the Chimæra, and about Daxin’s ID band on his bedside, poised and ripe for the taking.
    I thought about Devektra. And I knew what I needed to get my head straight. A party.

CHAPTER 8
    As Quartermoon drew closer, I was almost starting to enjoy myself at the academy. It still wouldn’t have been my first choice of a home, but at least I was settling in. Once I’d stopped playing stupid in my engineering classes, they were actually sort of fun. And although I wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, I was realizing that Rapp and I were something like friends.
    I still hated the tunics, and I still hated how seriously everyone took themselves around here. But I understood it now. You’ve got to believe in something.
    I still felt sort of trapped, but it didn’t feel quite as much like forever. That’s because I finally had something to look forward to: Devektra’s concert at the Chimæra. I was going to ditch my butt-ugly tunic,