Split Infinity Read Free Page A

the end. My hands land on undies, a bra …
    Jackpot. They’re a little baggy but I reckon I guessed right. These are the clothes of a teenager or twenty-something …
    There’s not much stuff in the drawers and no time to check what I’ve found, but I aim for stuff at the bottom of the piles. Less chance they’ll notice anything missing. And their favourite things are most likely at the top, right?
    It feels like longer but I estimate it’s been around a minute since I snuck in. I throw on a worn long-sleeved T-shirt and some faded jeans. Last of all I grab a pair of old runners from under a bed.
    Then I’m into the hall and shuffling through the gap in the back door. I can hear traffic noises as I make it outside; the sun is harsher and higher. I can almost feel the movement of people in flats and rooms all around. Just another day.
    Outside at the entrypad, I hesitate. Now that I have the clothes I’m tempted to bolt, but I have to be smarter than that. Use my head. Just one more minute to clean off any trace that I’ve been here.
    My fingers move fast as I trigger a reboot and clean up my dodgy coding. Not my best work. A final restart takes it back exactly the way I found it and the back door clicks shut.
    Keeping low, I sneak to the side shed before cutting across to a gate at the back fence. My hands are on the top rail when I hear movement behind me.
    The pfft of the door.
    I don’t turn around. I’m hooking one leg over the gate when someone calls: ‘Scout?’
    All air leaves my lungs. I can’t risk this, but I have to see. Awkwardly, I turn at the top of the gate, a B-grade cat burglar who’s been caught in a bad escape.
    Kessa’s frame is shadowed in the back doorway, but I know it’s her. An older version of her. She steps forward, squinting into the sunlight. ‘Scout! Is that really you?’
    Her arms are out as if she’s expecting to hug me, clear recognition in her voice, but as she comes closer her expression shifts. A couple of metres from the gate she slows as her eyes track over my face.
    It’s the strangest thing, this splice of realisation as we stare at each other, like examining old photos of someone from before you knew them: familiar but also distant.
    Except for me it’s in reverse and I’m staring at a version of Kessa that should be from my future. Her fair hair is shorter, wispier, and her face thinner but the changes are deeper than that. There’s an air of confidence about her. She’s standing taller, in more ways than just height. And once again I’m struck with the impression I so often have around Kessa: I’m glimpsing a life that could have been mine if I’d been deemed worthy of a chip. Worthy of life.
    ‘Sorry …’ It’s me who breaks the silence. ‘I …’ I lift an arm and gesture to her clothes. Hers, or maybe her twin sister’s. ‘I … I can bring them back later?’ After I make it to the stash.
    She ignores the question. ‘It really is you.’ Her voice is faint. ‘One day you were at school and the next day, you weren’t.’ And then clearer: ‘What happened, Scout? Your mum said you had to go away, but she wouldn’t say where.’
    ‘Yeah.’ Where did I go? Nowhere, exactly. Just on a shortcut to now. ‘It’s hard to explain.’ I’m tired of the lies, tired of saying words that keep her at such a distance from me.
    Again, we stare in silence. But I let her look, I want her to see. Other than blood splatters and messy hair, I look the same as when she last saw me. Years ago. And yesterday.
    ‘So, what year is this?’ I come right out and ask.
    ‘What do you mean?’ She tries to say it with a laugh.
    ‘Sorry, I … I get confused.’
    ‘Scout. It’s 2089.’ It comes out gently, as if I’m brain-damaged or something.
    So I only made it four years ahead. Four and a half, judging by the seasons. No wonder the Feds are still watching our room. ‘And you’re at uni?’ I ask, calculating. ‘What course?’
    ‘Emergency