James Dashner: The Eye of Minds

“How did you…” Michael stopped himself before asking the dumbest question of his life. Of course this lady knew how to find their information. Her hacking skills were probably ten times his own. You didn’t become a club owner—much less the owner of the Black and Blue—without talent and loads of money.

She merely raised her eyebrows at him, which was answer enough. She continued.

“I want to make this clear: the Black and Blue didn’t get its reputation in the VirtNet by chance. People who’ve tried what you did today have ended up in places ranging from hospitals to mental wards. Answer my questions. Be up-front and you’ll be fine. But be warned—I despise sarcasm.”

Michael exchanged a look with Sarah. She’d been the one to get them inside; he knew that now it was his turn. It seemed like Bryson always got off easy.

“Why are you here?” Ronika asked.

Michael cleared his throat and swore to himself that he wouldn’t let the lady see how badly she intimidated him. “We were told to come here because we’re looking for information.”

“Who sent you?”

“An old barber over in Shady Towne.”

“Cutter.”

“Yeah, he’s the one.” Michael almost made a joke about his bad breath but stopped himself.

Ronika paused for a second. “I think I already know the answer to this question, but what are you looking for?”

“We’re looking for Kaine. The gamer.” He assumed that would be enough, but he continued. “Cutter said something about ‘the Path.’ ”

Bryson suddenly stood up, his hands flying to his temples, his eyes squeezed tight. “Oh, crap. Oh, crap.”

Michael’s heart sank. This couldn’t be good.

“What?” Sarah asked.

Bryson dropped his arms and opened his eyes. He looked over at Ronika. “My Tracer just lit up. Kaine knows we’re here. He’s close.”

Ronika seemed completely unfazed.

“Well, of course he is,” she said.

They all looked at the woman, waiting for her explanation. Michael wanted to get up and run, but he knew they might never get another chance to learn anything if he did.

“He’s been here before,” she said. “I assure you my firewalls are solid. That man wouldn’t dare cross me, considering I saved… one of his most cherished… Tangents from Decay.”

Her odd pauses almost made Michael forget they were in danger. He knew that all Tangents eventually went through Decay—an artificial-intelligence program that complex and that lifelike, with such realistic intelligence, couldn’t last forever before its very existence began to contradict its instincts. The research showed that it always started with essential elements in the Tangent’s life disappearing for no reason—its artificial memory lost its ability to “fill in the blanks.” Then weird things started happening to its “physical” body. The manifestations supposedly varied from Tangent to Tangent. But once the signs got too bad, became obvious to players, the programmers would shut them down. Kill them.

Ronika’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“… wouldn’t be around this long if I hadn’t cleaned out its coding and basically rebirthed Kaine’s prized Tangent. That’s not easy to do without erasing its memory, not to mention that the whole thing is illegal. Kaine owes me. He supposedly spent years developing that specific program. I didn’t know then what I do now about him, but I will say, I probably still would have done it. It’s always good to have friends—and enemies—in your debt.”

“He doesn’t seem the type to care if he betrays an old friend,” Michael pointed out. “Also, he’s been trapping people inside the Sleep. He’s ruthless, and I don’t think we should stick around to see what he does.”

Ronika eyed Michael carefully. “Then you are most welcome to leave.”

“She won’t help us anyway if they’re friends,” Bryson said.

“Friends?” Ronika repeated, saying the word as if the concept was foreign. “He paid me a ridiculous amount of money. I’m no friend of any gamer. Only an associate. All I’m saying is that what I did for him involved a rare talent of mine, and he wouldn’t dare risk jeopardizing its availability in case he needs it in the future.”

Michael didn’t feel much safer, but they had to start prying. Sarah seemed to have the same idea.

“Look,” she said. “We don’t have that kind of money. Is there a way we can earn information from you?”

A small wry grin appeared on Ronika’s face. “There are a lot of things more valuable than money. The fact that you’re sitting here tells me a lot about you. All I want in return for the answers to your questions is one simple favor.”

That seemed way too good to be true. Michael had been gaming for long enough to know there were a million terrible things she could ask them to do.

“What favor?” he asked hesitantly.

The smile hadn’t left her face. “Oh, I couldn’t say now. I will tell you when I need it.”

Michael had no clue how the woman could say such innocent things and make them sound so menacing. And yet at the same time he found himself liking her.

“Deal,” Bryson said, not bothering to consult with his friends first. But Michael had no heart to complain; they didn’t really have much choice but to accept.

“And you two?” Ronika said, looking at Sarah, then Michael.

They both nodded.

“But we have to hurry,” Bryson said. “My Tracer is thumping and I wanna get out of here.”

Michael didn’t need to weigh the options.

“Fine,” Ronika said, seemingly satisfied with their arrangement. “Ask your questions.”

Michael had gotten his friends into this mess, so he conducted the interview, despite his instinct to run. They couldn’t come this far and get nothing. He decided to just be quick and to the point. And even though they’d come specifically to ask about the Path, he was going to find out as much as he could.

“Kaine,” he began. “Have you heard of something linked to him—something secret, hidden deep inside the VirtNet?”

“Yes.”

Michael held back his excitement. “Any details?”

Ronika remained straight-faced. “Almost nothing. But I think there’s definitely something major happening.” Her calm was maddening to Michael—he couldn’t tell if she knew more than she was letting on.

“Cutter said something about a path.”

She nodded. “Yes. The Path. With a capital P . How that man finds out about these things, I have no idea.”

“What is the Path?” Sarah asked.

Ronika didn’t hesitate, which gave Michael confidence she was telling the truth. “It’s the only way to get to the Hallowed Ravine, a place hidden deep within the Sleep—just like Kaine and the Path itself. Again, that’s a capital H and a capital R . The word is, that’s where Kaine’s doing his business. It’s nearly impossible to get to—and they say it has several layers of infallible security measures surrounding it. As you seem to know, however, there’s always a way through. Always.”

“The Path,” Michael repeated.

Ronika nodded. “The Path.”

Michael noticed that Bryson’s knee was bouncing up and down.

“Closer?” Michael asked him.

“He’s practically right outside this room, man.” Bryson looked at the ceiling, his eyes lit with worry. “We need to go.”

“You’ll be fine,” Ronika said. But for the first time since they’d arrived, Michael sensed the slightest doubt in her voice. “I can only tell you where to start. I’ve never been on the Path, and I have no interest in doing so.”