"What do you mean?" I ask.

Allys raises her eyebrows. "You do have big blanks, don't you? Well, Blue Goo — as the hospital calls it— is, well, blue."

"Brilliant," Ethan interjects.

"And," Allys says, raising her voice, "it's artificially oxygenated and loaded with neurochips. They're smaller than the human cell and communicate with each other pretty much the same way neurons do, except faster. And they learn. Once you've loaded them with some basic information, they pass on information to other neurochips and begin to specialize. And of course, the truly spectacular thing is they can communicate with human cells in the same way. You pack a human or lab liver in Bio Gel, and the neurochips do the rest — deliver oxy gen, nutrients, communicate with the central database, until it can be transplanted into someone who needs it."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Sometimes. But just because we can doesn't mean we should. That's what the FSEB considers."

"How so?" I ask, trying to sound only mildly interested.

"Well, one way is point values," she says. "Everyone gets a lifetime maximum of one hundred points. My limbs, for instance. The implanted digital technology to work with the prosthetics is very low point value. Sixteen points for all of them. But a heart: — that's worth thirty-five alone. Throw in lungs and kidneys and you're at ninety-five points."

"That sounds simplistic," I say.

"Maybe. But fair, too. It doesn't matter how rich or important you are. Everyone's in the same boat. And medical resources and costs are kept under control."

"What about brains?" Ethan asks. "What are they worth?"

"Brains are pretty much illegal. Only biodigital enhancement up to forty-nine percent is allowed to restore some lost function and that's it."

"That's an odd number," I say. "Why only forty-nine percent?"

"You have to draw the line somewhere, don't you? Medical costs are a terrible economic drain on society, not to mention all the ethics involved. And by restricting how much can be replaced or enhanced, the FSEB knows you are more human than lab creation. We don't want a lot of half-human lab pets crawling all around the world, do we? I think that's the main point of it all."

"And the FSEB is always right?" Ethan asks.

Allys sits up straighter, and her words come fast and clipped.

"They're trying to preserve our humanity, Ethan. How can anyone argue with that? They're protecting us, and I for one, think that is quite admirable. Plus, I happen to know there's a lot of very intelligent and qualified people in that agency."

Ethan pulls into the parking lot at the charter. "All I know is that a lot of 'intelligent and qualified people' screwed up my life two years ago." He throws the gear into park. "So much for intelligence, huh?" It seems our conversation has taken a sudden turn that I wasn't expecting. Ethan's voice is rigid, like the day I called us all freaks at the market. He leaves to go into the charter, not waiting for us.

Allys lets out a huff of air. "He can really go off sometimes.'' She rolls her eyes and reaches for her braces. I watch him walk away, wondering if his life changed just about the same time mine did. And like me, he is still getting over it, though I don't know what the it is, and I'm afraid to ask, but I'm sure it's why he's at the charter now.

I wait outside for Ethan to take me home. I have already conferenced with Rae, and now Ethan's conference is going over.

"Hello."

Dane surprises me from behind. I haven't talked to him much since that first day. He's been out. Rae didn't say why, and Mitch only groaned when Allys asked.

"How are things going?" His voice is warm and eager and I like the sound of it, but I also remember what Ethan said about him.

"Good," I answer.

"Like your project?"

"Yes."

"Need a ride?"

"No."

He blows out a heavy breath, obviously annoyed at my short responses. He swings around in front of me and grabs my hand. "C'mon. Has Ethan been saying bad things about me? You're lot going to listen to him, are you?"

His hand is warm, firmly clasped around mine. I look up and urn surprised at how closely his eyes match the color of the sky behind him. "I have a problem," he says. "I admit it. I'm honest. Like when I said you walked funny. I don't think any less of you because you do, and I didn't mean anything bad by it. You're not going to hold that against me, are you?"

"No."

He loosens his grip on my hand, but I notice he doesn't let go. "We all have our problems, and Ethan's is he can't deal with the truth. He can't even tell the truth. I'd stay away from him if I were you, but I guess you'll figure that out on your own. You're obviously smart." He smiles, but it doesn't mesmerize me like the day I first saw him at his house. I'm changing daily. I can see things in faces that I couldn't see just a few days ago. Things that I think other people can't even see. And what I see in Dane's perfectly beautiful face disturbs me. Emptiness. The word is strong in my head, and yet I wonder if it could be the wrong one.

"Friends?" he asks.

Friends. That's why I wanted to come to school in the first place. Maybe Dane had friends like I once did, friends who are gone now, and he misses them the way I miss Kara and Locke.