Chapter 21: Augmented Reality

M A D D O X

I hustle through the halls toward my dorm room, swearing beneath my breath. It's way later than I intended. Nearly dawn. I need to get the video feeds back to their undoctored state before campus security notices anything amiss.

A tendril of unease curls its way into the pit of my stomach. I've been messing around with the security footage way too much lately. I'd been meaning to lay off for the rest of the summer session. Keep myself out of trouble. Stick to the rules... But there was no way I could follow curfew last night. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and last night called for full damage control mode.

I hustle to my desk and log into my laptop. A few familiar keystrokes, and my trusty script begins to run.

A grim smile curves my lips. Time for some old-school "augmented reality"... Little known fact, but Emerson Kemp's whole interest in AR began as nothing more than a schoolboy's efforts to circumvent curfew. I've been using his old hack for three summers now—ever since he took us under his wing and shared this little nugget of code before he graduated. Hard to believe no one on campus security has caught wind. They seriously need to update their cybersecurity protocols. This one little .exe file is all it takes to override the password and gain full access to Winthrop security's internal server.

I drum my fingers against my knee as I wait for it to work. I've gone through these motions more times than I can count, but something tonight has me feeling unsettled. I have the weirdest feeling that I'm about to be found out. What would Dr. Carlyle do if he realized that Reese, Eleanor, and I have been playing games with the camera feeds all this time?

Something tells me that Reese and Eleanor would be just fine. I'm the one who would end up out on my ass, with a one-way ticket back to my grandmother's apartment in New York.

"Stop it," I mutter to myself. A shudder creeps down my spine, and I give my head a shake to rid myself of the sensation. There's no reason to think that campus security will figure it out on their own. The only hitch could be if Eleanor decides to clue them in, just to screw me over. Yet another reason I have to play along with her manipulative games.

How did I get myself into this mess? Everything was under control until yesterday afternoon. I was sitting right here at my desk, preparing to get started on the format libraries. Ellie and I were supposed to work together after dinner, and I wanted to have something to show for myself before I met up with her. But then I got that frantic text from Reese.

Can I just say, I'm getting really tired of Ms. Winthrop and her games? I'd be perfectly content to "augment" that girl right out of my "reality." But no such luck. I have yet to discover a hack for eliminating annoying ex-girlfriends from one's social circle.

I had no choice but to bail on Ellie. And by the time I got to the girls' dorm, Eleanor had gone MIA. Reese and I spent half the night begging her to come back and talk it over before she finally deigned to grace us with her presence.

I blow out my breath with a huff. Maybe it's best if Ellie and I don't work in the library anymore. Those glass-walled rooms aren't exactly private. Someone spotted us hunched a together over a laptop and sent Eleanor a pic. That's what precipitated her latest freak-out. I guess I had my hand resting on the back of Ellie's chair. Perfectly innocent. I wasn't even touching her shoulder!

At least, not that time...

A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. The truth is, Eleanor's not imagining things. She has her faults, but paranoia isn't one of them. I can lie to her and pretend that my interest in Ellie is all business—but the truth is, I like that girl. I like her more and more each time I'm with her.

I should have been with her last night. I hope Ellie isn't pissed that I ditched on our work session. I know I haven't exactly been pulling my weight. I've just had a lot on my mind lately, between the ex-girlfriend-drama and trying to figure out how to cover my tuition for this summer if the Winthrops cut me off.

But Ellie doesn't know about any of that, and I can't tell her. I can't tell anyone. Not without violating the deal I made with Eleanor to keep our break-up under wraps...

Which means I'm stuck here in this no-man's-land, tiptoeing around the truth with both of them. I walked right past Ellie's room on my way out of Fenmore just now, but I didn't stop. Her light was on, but I didn't dare knock. Not after that conversation with Eleanor...

"You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"No, I haven't told anyone."

"And you think people won't guess, when they catch you hooking up with some sophomore?"

"I'm not hooking up with her!"

That much was true, at least. No one's hooking up with Ellie. At least, not me...

At least, not yet...

I bite my lip. Should I go for it with Ellie? I'm playing with fire, I know. If I really mean to steer clear of trouble this summer, I should keep a safe ten feet of distance from that girl at all times. That was the deal I made. I gave Eleanor my word. I may be a shameless rule-breaker when it comes to stuff like curfew, but I've always been a man of my word.

Right?

I tip back my head and stare up at the ceiling. I don't know. Maybe not. Is a man's word binding if it's coerced?

That's the thing. I never would have gone along with Eleanor's nonsense if I had a choice in the matter. She's blackmailing me, essentially. So I really have no moral obligation to follow her "terms and conditions" if I can get away with it. That's why I broke up with her in the first place. So I could do my own thing. Be my own man. Talk to whoever I want. Hook up with whomever I like.

And I like Ellie.

I close my eyes and groan. Life would be so much simpler if I didn't like Ellie.

But I do.

I can't pretend I don't.

And I'm pretty well convinced that Ellie likes me back. The girl might be a genius at javascript, but she's not exactly a master of deception when it comes to hiding her feelings. She wears her emotions all over her face. Bright flaming red cheeks every time I "accidentally" brush my hand against her arm.

Honestly, Ellie doesn't even need an avatar. Her face is easier to read in real life...

A flash of movement on my laptop screen interrupts my thoughts. My script finishes running, and the security interface logs itself in. My eyes skim over the split-screen display, and I click my mouse to maximize the windows I need. One side of my screen shows the live footage currently being broadcast from all the cameras located on the second floor of Fenmore Hall.

All quiet. No movement. Doors closed. Lights out.

That's what the cameras appear to show, at any rate. Appearances can be deceiving.

The other half of the display shows the source code editor. There, buried halfway down the page, is the line I added before my visit to Eleanor's room last night. 

INSERT (CDNM.GIF)

A GIF... a 2-second soundless video loop. This one, CDNM, is one of several that I use on regular rotation, following the naming convention that Emerson established when he first figured out THIS hack. CDNM stands for "closed doors no movement."

I hold down the delete key, watching the INSERT command disappear without a trace. Ready...

Now comes the slightly risky part. I hold my breath as I hit Enter to update my changes. The footage on the other half of the screen freezes for half a second and then jumps back to life—the fake video loop files replaced by the unaugmented live feed. To anyone else watching, it would look like a momentary loss of connectivity. No obvious signs of tampering. The real footage still shows all the doors closed on Fenmore's second floor. Someone watching carefully might notice the lights jump on suddenly in the crack beneath a couple doorframes. But there's nothing so unusual about that. It merely looks like the occupants inside woke up and turned their lights on.

All clear. I lean back in my chair and let out a long breath. That was a close one... It could have gotten messy if people were up and about in the hallway at the moment I reverted to the live footage. I can't take a chance like that again.

No more tampering, I vow.

At least not in the dorms.

I crack my knuckles and lean forward, adjusting the angle of my laptop against the glare from the rising sun. I guess I'm not sleeping tonight. It'll be time for breakfast soon, and I'm still not done here. There's one more thing I need to do.

I pull up a different server window. My screen fills with row after row of file folders, labeled with serial numbers and timestamps. The archives... The recorded footage from every camera on campus is automatically stored here for 72-hours before it gets overwritten—and it's existence is the one major flaw in Emerson's hack. The inserted GIF files only cover up the camera footage for a viewer watching in real-time. Here in the archives, the actual footage gets stored. The truth is in here for three long, incriminating days--and only the system admin has delete privileges.

Luckily, campus security never bothers to check the archived footage. I'm not sure they even realize it's here. Still, it makes me nervous. I always check these folders before I log out, just to know how damaging the evidence might be.

I pull up the feed from the camera outside Eleanor and Reese's room and tap the rewind key, watching images whiz by in reverse as the time counter races backward.

Empty hallway. All clear...

There.

I recognize my own tall form letting myself out of the room. Hopefully that's worst of it. I don't expect much else to crop up, as I keep rewinding. The images fly by so quickly, I almost don't register the next thing that I see.

"What the..." My hand flashes to my mousepad, clicking pause. It went by too fast. I stop rewinding and hit play, waiting for whatever I just saw to reappear.

Shit. Was that...?  I rub my palm slowly against the back of my neck. It couldn't be...

Ellie.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, hoping I'm hallucinating. But I'm not. She's there. She just appeared in the frame, standing in the hall outside Eleanor's room, with her back pressed up against the wall. Only part of her face is visible from this camera angle, but it's enough for me to see the expression.

Her eyes are narrowed in an accusatory squint. I can practically feel them boring into me, and I slouch lower in my chair. For a moment, I have the weirdest sensation that she can see me here, watching her, as I sit on the other side of my laptop screen.

That's an illusion obviously. I give myself a little shake to snap out of it. She's not glaring at me. This is recorded footage, not live. If it feels like we're making eye contact, it's because she must've been looking straight into the security camera lens.

But her face... Her eyes... What exactly was she looking at?

She squints harder, until her eyes are little more than two dark slits. Then her gaze shifts sideways...

Like she's listening.

Eavesdropping.

Eavesdropping on the whispered conversation taking place behind that door. Oh crap. My mind flies backward, trying to remember everything that Eleanor and I just said. How bad was it? How much damage did I do?

It's not clear from Ellie's face whether she can understand any of the whispered words. But then, right there at the 4:40:27 mark...

I hit pause to freeze the image, and her unmistakable expression fills my screen.

"What?" I murmur, gripping the edges of my laptop with two closed fists. "What did I say? What did you just hear?"

Her shoulders go rigid. Her mouth is slack. And those eyes—those huge green eyes I can't stop thinking about—they go all big and round.

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