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469 pages, Hardcover
First published May 13, 2014
"You're worried about me," I said, and smiled.
"Nah. It's purely selfish. I want to be able to kiss you without infecting myself."
I punched him in the arm. He caught my fist and touched it to his lips. "I'll see you later," he said, then jogged backward toward the register, as if he didn't want to take his eyes off me.
I consulted the app at least a thousand times a day. What should I wear? Where should I sit? Who should I ask to Sadie Hawkins? Every decision that could possibly matter, and most that probably didn’t.
Two chapters later…
I looked around at my new classmates. Nothing about them screamed gifted. They were just a bunch of sixteen-year-olds on their handhelds.
“I love you way too much to let you walk into that place alone.”
With a sharp pang, I realized this might be my last chance to say it back. Though I was forcing myself to ignore it, I couldn’t shake the awareness of just how dangerous this plan of ours really was. “I love you too,” I said softly.
7 out of 10
"I formed them free, and free they must remain till they enthrall themselves."
“What if there was an app that told you what song to listen to, what coffee to order, who to date, even what to do with your life—an app that could ensure your complete and utter happiness? What if you never had to fail or make a wrong choice?
What if you never had to fall?”
“Lux is manipulating him”.
“Of course it is”, North replied. "that's what Lux does. It steers people into the life they think they want -the happiness they think they deserve”
“But this isn't the life Beck wants”, I insisted.
"Don't exchange the truth for a lie."
"The fool is destined to repeat history. The wise man has the wit to avoid it."
“You’ve all been given limited access to the Department of Public Health’s medical records database,” Rudd said as he returned to the front of the room.
(*record scratch* Wait a second, high school students having access to medical files? Absolutely not. Would never happen. You usually can’t even get your hands on medical records unless you’re the patient’s doctor. So that’s a technical issue with this book… one of many. Again, five minutes on Google, Lauren. Okay, back to the whole “crazy” thing.)
“Your login has been coded to the research topic you selected, allowing you to review the med records for patients who suffered from the mental illness you’re studying.” He picked up his tablet off his desk and tapped the DPH icon. The app launched on the screen at the front of the room. “Now, I know what some of you are thinking,” he deadpanned as he logged himself in. “You’re hoping this means you’ll be able to prove once and for all that your frenemy in a certified nut job. But, alas, your access is limited to dead crazies, and this particular database is anonymous anyway, which means the only identifying information you’ll have are gender, ethnic origin, and birth and death dates.”
“The only question is, how do we take Liam out of commission for a couple of hours?” North asked.
“We roofie him” I say without hesitation. “It’ll incapacitate him without killing him, and it’ll screw with his memories.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll just grab the bottle of date-rape pills I have in my medicine cabinet.”
“Not pills,” I corrected. “Has to be injectable. There’s no way we can guarantee that he’ll drink whatever we put it in.”
North gave me an incredulous look. “You’re actually serious?”
“What? It’s what the society uses. And it’ll do exactly what we need it to do.
North tugged at this Mohawk. “I know we don’t have time to get into this right now, but, holy crap, Rory, this shit is seriously messed up.”
“You’re right. Not the time. We have to go buy roofies.”
“Where, at Walgreens? I’m sure we’ll find them right next to the Advil.”
I crossed my arms, irritated by the sarcasm. “You’re a guy with a Mohawk and tattoos. Don’t you know people?”
“People with Rohypnol?”
“So, you don’t know anyone who can get it?”
He started to shake his head but seemed to think of something. “One of my clients is a pharmacist in Greenfield. I could probably get a prescription sleeping serum from him. Something potent but legal. I can message him from my apartment.”
“Now we knew that the inner voice was nothing more than a glitch in the brain’s circuitry, something to do with ‘synaptic pruning’ and the development of the frontal lobe.” (p.13)
“Whose research are we talking about here?” He scoffed. “’Science’ with a capital S? The same geniuses who said the Earth was the center of the universe?”