Sublimation(113)

“You don’t have to perfectly agree with everything that might happen. You just have to agree that it’s better if there’s more time, before the rollout. That it’s better if people have a little more information,” Soyoung says.

Yujin sighs.

He wants to be the sort of person who could have flatly told Soyoung no, the first time, the sort of person who could have not pulled the thread of the whole conspiracy, who could have accepted the first bribe and asked no more questions. But he’s not that person. If he was, he wouldn’t be standing here. Always a part of him, doubting. Doubting whether he’s doing the right thing with his instance. Doubting whether he should help Soyoung. Doubting whether he should play Drew’s games. Doubting whether he should take Megan’s deal. Doubting whether he’s ever made the right decisions. Doubting whether Mergebreak and IIS should hold the keys to the technology.

“Fine. Okay. I get your point. But, Soyoung, it’s not better for my life, if Mitosis leaks.”

“But you don’t have to be the whistleblower,” Rose says. “All I’m asking is that you let me go through with this.”

“My ID shows that I entered the building,” YJ says. “And Drew gets a log of every time someone accesses twenty-six. And I broke a glass door, earlier.”

“No, your ID got stolen by a corporate spy, who stole your wallet at a bar. When you realized the cards were missing, you ran to the office and broke in to catch her, but she used the Mitosis gate to psychologically overwhelm you. It’s dangerous technology. You did all you could. You risked your life! But she knocked you out. She got away,” Rose says. “Give me a fifteen-minute head start, stumble out of here, and hit the fire alarm. Call Drew, pretending to be YJ. And I bet you’ll instance again, when you fly back to Korea. One of you goes, the other stays. Nothing that happens here has to be permanent, except for your memories.”

He thinks about it for a second. It would work. Mergebreak wouldn’t want to involve the police in the theft of company secrets. Megan might be mad, but first she would be worried about him. Drew would use it as another string on him, until Megan snipped those threads. And personally, Yujin would have to decide how to handle his reintegration. That’s a separate issue. In the short term, Soyoung’s plan would work.

“How do you know you’re doing the right thing,” he says. “You’re creating a more complicated world this way.”

“If we’re wrong, I can live with regret,” Rose says.



* * *



The man on the bank of the river. The man standing on the bank of the bay, knowing he might drown.





ROSE


Yujin nods. One sharp dip of his chin.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” you say. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Yujin replies. “Take Mitosis. I’ll let you go.”

He says it with such finality.

“Thank you,” you say. You don’t have anything else to say. You just stand there staring at each other stupidly.

Yujin looks away first, and back around at the walls surrounding you.

“So how do we get out, then?”

Your instance speaks.

“Yujin, do you remember—the week before I left for America. You came over with your mom, because our moms wanted to talk. And we watched cartoons until we got sent outside to play, but we were kind of old for that, so we asked if we could go to the store instead.”

“Yes,” Yujin says, a puzzled expression on his face.

You remember that day. It had been an unremarkable afternoon, other than going to the store. You remember how it felt like freedom, being allowed out on your own, together. You went to the store, you and him. You bought cheap candy. He bought a soda. You had used the rest of your money to buy one of those ice creams that you can split in half, and you had eaten it together. You remember it being a good day.

“Every time, before, during the testing, the experience ended with the end of the memory. I think that’s the end of this one. I think we just walk out the front door to get out.”

You and Yujin both look over. The front door looks—it looks like the front door to your grandfather’s house. You remember walking through it so many times. You remember being too scared to go in, six months ago. You hope you see it again someday.

Your instance walks forward. You begin to follow her. She seems to know where she’s going.

“Soyoung, Rose—are we good?”

You stop. You both look back at him. Yujin has an expression on his face that you can’t read. Are you good? You and him. You have more to talk about, topside, you think. If you’re lucky, you’ll have time, someday.

“I think so,” Soyoung says.

“I mean, like, in the grand scheme of things. Because I care—”

“Yujin, we’re good,” you say, and you reach for his hand, and you pull him through the door, and—





SOYOUNG


—You fall out of the gate, reeling. You stumble to your feet. You don’t feel any pain, or nausea, you don’t feel bad, the way that you felt bad in all the test runs. You hear the sound of something else falling to the floor. You shake your head. You feel like yourself, like Kang Soyoung. You think it’s just you in here, now—you don’t remember growing up in the States, but you have the remembrance of the recollection, like a faded memory, imprinted in the folds of your brain. You look down at the mess. Rose is getting up from her hands and knees. Yujin is collapsed next to her, singular. The Mitosis machine is inert. The only feelings you can identify in your brain are the ones coming from your heart.