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like one of those old computers he’d heard about with a glassy screen called a monitor.<br />
The moment he thought it, he was there, nose to the surface of the “glass,” gazing in.<br />
Printed digitally on it was a name.<br />
EDGAR THOMAS FINCH<br />
He reached out and touched the letters—the entire screen flashed red, once, and then<br />
the name reappeared. He did it again and the same thing happened. Silently he<br />
concentrated on sending a command to the screen to reveal more information, but<br />
nothing happened. There was just the name, the orange light of its pod broken up only by<br />
those shifty shadows swimming in the murkiness behind it.<br />
He quickly moved from unit to unit. Each pod had a name, none of them familiar.<br />
That was when he realized he wanted to see it for himself. He had to see it.<br />
Jackson Porter, he thought. Take me to the pod of Jackson Porter.<br />
4<br />
His ears popped with the sudden movement and the Hive instantaneously shifted around<br />
him. With of a blur of orange, his mind tilted, his stomach pitched. Then all became still<br />
and there it was, just a few feet in front of him, the letters spelling out a name that made<br />
his chest tight.<br />
JACKSON BLAYNE PORTER<br />
Michael drifted closer, reached out, and lightly touched the surface of the screen that<br />
revealed the name. The name of the person from whom he’d taken everything. The screen<br />
flashed red just like the one before it, then went back to normal. It was probably some<br />
kind of signal showing that he didn’t have authority to access information on whatever<br />
lay inside that pod.<br />
What did lie inside the pod? Michael didn’t understand just how real the Hive might<br />
be. Was it a literal place? Or something more symbolic? He moved himself to the right of<br />
the screen and leaned in as close to the bright orange surface as he dared. Shadows<br />
shifted inside, swirling, growing, and shrinking. Michael stared, mesmerized—it felt as if<br />
he was on the cusp of understanding the afterlife, the spirit world, some supernatural<br />
thing he could never truly fathom before.<br />
The shadows suddenly coalesced into one large spot, right in front of Michael, just<br />
inches from his face. The orange light pulsed around the spot—it was an oval and almost a<br />
foot in height, positioned vertically. Darker shadows formed within shadows. Michael<br />
gasped and almost hurtled himself away from it, terrified, shivering in virtual chills.<br />
A face.<br />
Two eyes. A nose. A thin mouth drawn in a line. Cheekbones. A chin. All vague, but<br />
there. A face of shadows looking out at Michael as the light of the pod pulsed and the
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