Christina Bauer [Bauer - Scythe

Brighton, MA 02135

www.monsterhousebooks.com

ISBN 9781945723049

Copyright 2018 by Monster House Books LLC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For Kelly Peterson

Not long now.

Up ahead, a tiny concrete tower rises from the darkened hilltop. Guardhouse #83. I scan the gravel road before me. Everything is deserted, quiet, and perfect. Despite the chilly night air, a rush of excitement warms my limbs. Most days, Im a teenage she-hermit who lives for my basement laboratory. But in this moment, Im my best self: a science prodigy-for-hire whose inventions secure my familys safety. And if a little thievery is involved? Well, that just makes me a lot badass.

In other words, time to steal for Mom and science.

Marching to the guardhouse, I stop before the intake window. Theres no need to announce myself; motion detectors will activate the auto-guard. Seconds later, a mechanical buzz sounds as florescent lights click on, revealing an animatronic woman sitting at a fake desk. Like most auto-guards, this one is less than perfect, what with her chipped plastic skin, frayed blue uniform, frizzed-out hair, and single functioning eye. Raising her head, she addresses me through the Plexiglas.

You have reached guardhouse #83 for Reclamation Center Massachusetts-1, she says. The manufacture of new goods is reserved for the military, so we sort, clean, and refurbish old items from landfills.

To kill time, I adjust the loose straps on my backpack. This auto-guard wont interact with me until her welcome spiel is over. Sadly, animatronic speeches at Reclamation Center Massachusetts-1also called RCM1always take a while.

With jerky movements, the auto-guard gestures to the monitor embedded in the outer concrete wall. Here comes the slide show. Images appear on the screen, showing endless rows of long metal buildings stretching off to the horizon. Since our founding in 2107, RCM1 has processed more than three million objects across two thousand warehouses. It is now 11:43 pm. How may I be of service?

Thats my cue. All the blah-blah-blah is done.

I need to check in for my shift, I say.

Which is a total lie.

In truth, Im visiting RCM1 because Im building a scientific tool called a magnetic enhancer for one of my customers. Why? To punch holes in time and space, you need massive amounts of magnetic energy. Once my enhancers complete, that process will be a ton easier. At this point, all my invention needs are some dark matter brackets and thats it. Fortunately, when it comes to unusual supplies, RCM1 never fails.

Initiating employee identification sequence, states the auto-guard.

With those words, a long steel tube extends from the concrete wall. I lean in so my eye almost touches the metal. Almost is the key word here. I dont even want to think about the quarter-inch of black goo that encircles the tubes end. Who knows where THAT came from? A burst of light follows; my retina is scanned.

Identification complete, she announces. You, Wisteria Roberts, are sixteen years old and a resident of Reformed New England. Five feet, five inches tall. Brown hair. Green eyes. You worked at RCM1 full-time between the ages of six and twelve.

All of thats true, except for my name. Wisteria Roberts is an alias; Im really Meimi Archer. More fun facts about yours truly: I collect oddball alarm clocks, care for my mother, and have regular dreams where I gain superpowers and watch over a cute guy from another planet. I know, strange. Im also a decent computer hacker. In fact, I broke into the RCM1 mainframe seven years ago. Since then, thereve been five system upgrades. Yet all my back doors and secret subroutines have stayed 100% valid. Yay me.

The auto-guard tilts her head. You worked here with your older sister, Regina Roberts. Is she checking in with you today?

No, LuciI mean, Reginaisnt here. Shes I stop myself before saying the word dead. Shes just not here, I finish quickly.

My heart sinks. My sister Luci moved to the Boston Dome ages ago. Once there, she became a casualty of the new plague. Four years have passed since Luci died. A weight of sorrow seeps into my bones. After so much time, I shouldnt deeply mourn my older sisters death. Even so, the pain stays as fresh and cutting as if it happened yesterday.

The auto-guards one good eye flashes with orange light. Its a sign shes still processing my identity profile. You, Wisteria Roberts, are not a current RCM1 employee, even on a part-time basis. Please step away from the guardhouse.

Now that Im logged in, I have pre-coded passphrases for such occasions. Launch super-awesome chick subroutine. As backdoor phrases go, its not the best. But in my defense, I wrote this code when I was nine.

As the subroutine begins, the auto-guard gives me a somewhat creepy smile. Hows it hanging, girlfriend?

I grin right back. Thats what Im talking out. Now I have full access to any system within RCM1.

The usual, I reply. Im working on a science project for a grouchy customer. Hes also a stone-cold killer, but I dont add that part in. Got any dark matter brackets in stock?

Once again, the auto-guards eye flashes orange. Dark matter brackets may be found in warehouse 942, row 63, bin 13. There are 37 in stock at cost of 100 credits each.

Temporarily reduce that price to zero and get me four brackets.

The auto-guards head ticks from side to side. One moment.

For the record, Id rather buy these parts officially. Unfortunately, thats not an option. My mother isnt mentally stable, so the governmentwhat we call the Authoritywants to cleanse her. Thats government-speak for an early death, either from a gun blast or by being fed to a genetically enhanced attack animal. Not on my watch. To keep Mom safe, she and I live far outside the governments tracking systems. Thats crazy expensive. Projects like my magnetic enhancer help pay the bills. Trouble is, doing any scientific work without government approval is a crime, and RCM1 reports every official purchase to the Authority. All of which brings me back to the auto-guard, illegal hacks, magnetic enhancers, and thievery.

Mitigating factor: I do make anonymous donations to RCM1 in the value of whatever I take, so theres that.

Price temporarily reduced for one transaction only, says the auto-guard. Setting aside four brackets now. The automatons head keeps clicking at odd angles while it performs this function. Somewhere over in warehouse 942, a spider botessentially a foot-tall mechanical minionplaces my brackets onto a pick-up table by the front door.

After a few seconds, the auto-guard speaks again. Four functional brackets are now on reserve.

Display other items in 942. Might as well see what else I can grab.

The monitor scrolls through names of various scientific devices.

Atomic stabilizers? Already have too many.

Quantum chasers? Forget it. Quark trackers work so much better.

Refurbished monolith? That would be awesome, but its also the size of a refrigerator. Not exactly backpack friendly. And I dont have forever to fart around here.