Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Twenty Four

Fake Enna

    "Hey, Enna." I hear the front door bang shut behind my visitor. After a moment, Drake rounds the corner and joins me in the kitchen. A pain pulses behind my eyes and I drop my spoon into a steaming bowl of vegetable soup. Jeremy had been so busy at the New York war front that he assigned me with the task of arresting Drake for treason: on sight. All because of the design that I helped to create. I stare into his bright eyes, guilt leaving me temporarily speechless. But then my programmed instincts kick in.
    "How are you doing?" I ask carefully, picking up the soaked spoon and calmly smoothing down my styled hair. "Didn't expect to see you today."
    "Yeah, well I wanted to see what was going on with my design. Uh, our design." He smiles sheepishly and casually tosses a lock of newly-dyed blonde hair behind his ear. It looks nice on him. "I haven't heard anything back from Jeremy. Have you?" I shake my head, staring at the table.
    "No, I haven't." Change the subject. "I hear things have been crazy in the city. This morning Jeremy contacted me and said..." I falter, wondering whether I should tell something of such seriousness to a person of low rank.
    "Yes?" Drake folds his arms on the back of a chair and studies me, like I'm another one of his drawings.
    "Well, he thinks that the real Enna is still alive. And Matthew. They might be hiding out with a band of rebels in the city."
    "Damn," Drake says, staring at the table with wide eyes. I can tell by his short replies that he has something else on his mind, but if it's the logo again I can't stand to talk to him about it. Especially not now, just before I'm going to do something so horribly unfair. Since when did you grow a conscience? I scold myself.
    "So, did you just come here to ask about the logo?" I ask suggestively, slowly leading him towards the doorway. We walk leisurely around the couches in the living room. Everything in my apartment remains spotless, as always.
    "Not exactly," he mutters, eyes darting around nervously. Does he suspect my betrayal? "I just wanted to know if you had a partner to go to the Reception with you." The quick remark catches me off guard, so much that I completely forget to keep herding him out of my apartment. The Reception. Of course! How could I have forgotten? Jeremy and the rest of the Elite who make the executive decisions for the Base had announced the first ever "Regional Reception", which is really just official-talk for a fancy ball where fancy people dress in their fancy clothes to eat fancy food and dance across the fancy ballroom floor while thinking fanciful thoughts.
    "Think of the coverage!" Jeremy had urged through the tablet, his wide smile ironic in front of the dismal piles of rubble spotting the street behind him. "The world Elite will congregate right here, and who better to be the guest of honor than the People's Hero herself?" I then began to explain that maybe wasting our time on a fancy party would be a mistake and that inviting people to a Reptilian base could pose several issues, but my protest fell upon deaf ears. The truth is, real Enna's preferences are starting to rip through my carefully constructed facade more frequently, and it's becoming harder and harder to differentiate between her will and my own. My thoughts trail into oblivion and I notice Drake staring at me anxiously, awaiting an answer.
    How could I tell him I'll go with him and then lead him straight into a prison cell? I've got to make up an excuse.
    "Oh, gosh." I mutter girlishly, trying to trick him with an innocent approach. "I have this thing. You know, some interviews..." I roll my eyes for extra measure.
    "Oh, well that's okay. It's no problem. I mean, like, I was just wondering," he babbles, stumbling out into the sterilized hallway. His red face brightly contrasts with his bleached hair, and a cruel surge of pleasure steals through me for an instant when I recognize his embarrassment.
    "Hey, I'll walk with you now though," I suggest lightly. "There's something I'd like you to see, actually."
    "Yeah, cool." Drake winces like he'd accidentally touched a burning stove top. I try to pretend that I don't notice his discomfort, leading him quietly towards the renovated elevator. My blue and maroon robe cascades over my back and trails behind me on the floor. Our journey progresses in a thick silence, and I take the time to contemplate what I'm about to do. Drake has always been kind to me, and a hard worker for the Base. Is it really necessary to incarcerate him, or worse? Treason won't be tolerated, I argue. Weakness is death, everyone knows that. Before I know it, we enter the elevator and I press the button that reads "Seven".
    "Why are we going to the seventh floor?" Drake asks, voice deeper than usual. He's trying to hide his embarrassment. I remain silent, and a second later the glass doors of the capsule slide open. Now's my time to act. I speedily apprehend Drake and twist his arms behind him. I hear a crack. He screams, a horrible, throaty sound that reverberates through the small entry chamber. I guess I'd forgotten how much stronger I am as a clone.
    "Enna, what are you doing?" He bellows, fighting to catch his breath.
    "You're arrested for treason," I hiss into his ear, dragging him into the adjacent hallway where thousands of cages wait in the dark. "Your logo portrays the Regional Government as mere citizens." He yells and kicks out as I carry him towards an empty cage on the far side of the hallway. His foot connects with my shin and a stabbing pain travels up the inside of my leg. I cry out and momentarily slump against a nearby stack of cages. My second of weakness allows Drake to break free from my iron grip and fall to the floor. He struggles to crawl away, but his misshapen arms hinder him too badly. Instead of try to escape he lies there, glaring at me so angrily that I start to fear myself.
    "You set me up. I thought you were genuine," he spits between heavy breaths. "You're just like the rest of them."
    "Your words are futile. I only take orders from Perkins, not servants." I spit the word for good effect and grab him again, shoving him unceremoniously into a nearby cage. Once the latch is secure, I start back to the elevator. I didn't originally set up Drake: I did believe in the message of the drawing! But he can't know that. No one can. Behind me, Drake doesn't make a sound from his small prison. I find myself almost wishing that he would.