Read Online Threader by Rebekah Turner - Free Book Online Page A

It’s busy though. And crowded. Nothing like here.’
    â€˜Yeah? My family moved to Hong Kong when I was a kid, so I know crowded. I was so excited when they agreed to send me here. Secondary schooling in the public system is the worst.’ Cora raises her eyebrows at me. ‘You’re gonna love it here, I can guarantee it.’
    â€˜It’s a beautiful town,’ I say.
    Cora winks at me. ‘Wait until you get a load of Helios.’
    The car interior smells like artificial pine and I lower my window to let fresh air in. Cora chats as we drive down the wide streets and I only half-listen, devouring the sights of shops with pretty bay windows, cheerful signs and cafes with tables on the footpaths, customers chatting happily with each other. A rolling green mountain range sits in the distance and I marvel at the tranquillity. A dry internal voice reminds me that this tranquillity no doubt comes with a hefty price tag, well out of reach of people like myself. Not anymore, I correct myself, not if I play this right.
    The shops disappear and then there’s nothing but fields of green and the occasional cow, munching on grass, tail swishing. I want to ask if it’s real, or something built for the tourists, then decide to keep quiet, not wanting to sound stupid. Act cool, Josie. Act cool.
    As we pass a farmhouse, a field of crops comes into view with worker-bots picking the long vegetables from the stalks.
    â€˜What are they picking?’ I ask, pointing.
    Cora glances over at me. ‘Corn. Haven’t you ever seen a corn cob before?’
    â€˜Guess not,’ I mutter, a little embarrassed at her incredulous tone.
    Buildings loom in the distance and finally the car stops outside a high ornate gate. A camera rises from the top and a beam scans the car, before the gates flicker once, then the solid looking hologram dissolves, allowing access, before materialising again behind us.
    Considering how impressed I’d been with the cows and corn, entering the Helios Academy grounds is almost a religious experience. I try not to gape at the distant white buildings, the sprawling open green spaces dotted with trees and park benches. Squat-looking android mowers clip the lawn discreetly and a group of healthy, fit young men play a ball game near a lily pad studded lake.
    Cora parks beside a line of slick air-cars next to a tall building. My boots crunch on white stones as I exit the car and follow her inside a deserted lobby full of long sofas and a wall mounted with holo-displays of food and drink options, with a dispenser at the far end.
    â€˜This is our residence for the first year.’ Cora makes a vague gesture around the large room. ‘There are around eighty new students who enrolled this academic year. Some are graduates from the academy’s secondary school, which is about a twenty minute drive from here.’
    â€˜Twenty minute drive?’ I echo. ‘How big is this place?’
    â€˜Pretty darn big,’ Cora says with a shrug. ‘And there’s areas you can’t access, like the staff residential quarters. But you won’t have much reason to go anywhere else, other than into town for a slice, of course.’ She starts walking to the elevator and I follow, keeping close. ‘Ladies live on the second and third floors, while guys occupy the fourth and fifth. Up from that is a rec area, including break-out rooms and a kitchen, though you’re expected to eat meals at the academy canteen, just a ten minute walk from here. Last level is a fitness centre, the best on campus.’
    A small crowd of teenagers in Helios uniforms jostle by us, voices bright and excited. We follow them across the room and into an elevator, the doors sliding shut.
    â€˜Are you supposed to be here?’ Cora asks them, frowning.
    One of the teenagers rolls her eyes and waves a small transparent card. ‘We’ve got passes to try the gym.’
    Cora glares at them, but