“No. Before that. These things were used back when computers were something with screens and keyboards.”
He nodded but kept his eyes on the road. “They should have never done implants,” he said quietly.
Around fifteen years before the Toxic War, implants had been rolled out as a must-have item. People had jumped on board and paid huge sums to have computers implanted in their brains. It offered them the ability to speak more languages and access all the information on the Internet without the use of a device. Of course, none of those people back then truly understood the price of their upgrade until years later when the war broke out.
By the time hacking of implants really took off, people were frantically trying to get rid of them, but only a few succeeded and the rest died horrible deaths.
“The young people are getting implants back home,” I said.
“You’re kidding?” he asked with surprise.
“No, they say they’re safe, and it’s been so long since the war that nobody thinks it could happen again.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to pass on having anything implanted in my brain.”
“Me too.” I held up my wristband. “I like the old simple days better.” Releasing a deep sigh, I held up the flash drive. “Cross your fingers that we find good stuff on this thing. It will make the whole journey worthwhile for me.”
Boulder grew quiet and his jaws hardened. Maybe he wanted me to say getting to know him had been my highlight, but saying something like that would just give him hope that I would stay.
I couldn’t stay! Could I?
No, the thought was ridiculous. I had a life to get back to. My roommate and my friends were probably missing me like crazy. There was no way I could stay.
But I’ll miss him, a small voice peeped inside me – one that I quickly silenced.
Back at the mansion I almost ran to our room and fell to my knees, searching through my bags for the converter. I gave a small shriek when I found it and brought it to the coffee table.
“You wanna see?” I asked him.
“How could I miss it?” he said sarcastically. “After all, this is thehighlightof your journey here.”
Ignoring his comment, I plugged the flash drive into the converter and projected the content up in the air.
“What is this?” Boulder asked in confusion.
“It’s the coding. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” I muttered and navigated to get an overview of the content. “I see some videos, images, and text files. This should be interesting.”
“What videos? I don’t see anything.”
“Give me a second, I have to find a way to play them.” It took me a few moments but I finally got the first video to play.
A young woman came into view, her hair in a short bob, her nose big, and her eyebrows pierced by a ring. The camera shook slightly and her face scrunched up in concentration. “Smile,” she said and leaned against a young man who looked up at the camera, pushed his square glasses in place, and squinted a bit. He had stubble, unruly hair falling down his forehead, and a shirt that was wrinkled.
“I’m getting tired of all your selfies,” he said with a hint of annoyance, before he flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Wait, you have it on video.”
“Oh, sorry.” The clip ended with the girl frowning.
“I hope that wasn’t the highlight of your journey?” Boulder said dryly.
“No.” I pushed the next video: a noisy food hall with young people sitting, standing, and walking around. “Hey, Mom.” A quick flash of the girl from before showed that she was filming. She waved at the camera. “Let me show you our fine dining restaurant here at campus.” The camera was turned around for a panorama of the dining hall. “Say hi,” the young woman called out to a group of young women at a table.
“Are you putting it on Facebook?” one of them asked with a stiff smile.
“No, It’s for my mom.”
“Oh, okay.” Two or three of the women gave small waves. “Hey, Nicole’s mom,” one of them said politely.
“And this is the feast I’m eating,” the woman who had to be Nicole narrated, and zoomed the camera in on her plate.
