Jeremy had sprinted in and out of a half-dozen pop-up storefronts before they thought to check the mall's security footage. Admittedly, trying to figure out a mentally-projected video while bouncing in place nervously, sweating and distantly aware of their racing heart rate, wasn't the cleanest way to watch the shitty low-res camera footage.
No. Stop, Jeremy. They were better than this. They had corrected these flaws.
They skidded to a stop in front of Hot Topic, breathing out slowly. They were hurrying, and hurry made mistakes. They were reacting instead of predicting. Foolish, since their SQUIP OS was much faster than a human's running speed.
After a moment's pause, they began sorting their thoughts into folders by subject. That was the only way they could think of how to optimize their processes mid-panic.
Brooke's accusations about both Jeremy 2.0 and the current model were worrying, but only in the long-term way for Jeremy to question their identity in the wee hours of the morning. Not top priority. They could dump almost all their current emotional reactions into that folder.
Current physical sensations. Out of breath, heart rate high, thoughts racing. All were signs of fear. It was probably justified but unnecessary for planning their next actions. Switch gears, put the panic aside, process it later. Jeremy felt their panting slow down and stop without any futher neurochemical or nerve-based intervention. Weird.
Which left the topic of Michael's safety a little clearer. Michael was alone in the mall, possibly cornered by SQUIPs, but this wouldn't be the first time Jeremy had left him unsupervised. Where had Jeremy seen him last? Going to the bathroom while Jeremy waited outside of Victoria's Secret. Jeremy had an internal clock that was, admittedly, a little more accurate than the mall camera's.
The times were off. Don't panic. Figure it out.
Comparing the current time with the current reading in the security camera, Jeremy mentally found the difference, adjusted for it, and checked footage of Victoria's Secret at that point in time and - yes, there they were next to Michael.
The video image hovered in their field of view in staticky greyscale. Jeremy wondered if the mall was seriously that cheap or if their own mental expectations of security footage were altering their perception. Since it was low priority, they didn't bother running the numbers on that scenario.
The grainy image of Michael reappeared, glanced around for Jeremy, called out silently, and stopped. Someone else came into frame, fuzzy and almost indistinguishable, and had some sort of conversation. Was that a classmate? Not a girl, not Rich or Jake, and Jeremy didn't know enough of their classmates to narrow it down from there.
Jeremy's view switched from camera to camera, tracking Michael's movements as he passed a number of stores until he reached -
Jeremy blinked. The image fizzled away. They were still standing outside Hot Topic, which everyone knew was always built beside the most obvious store to check. Audio and visual information from the real world trickled in for Jeremy again as they peered into Spencer's. They'd almost run straight away from Michael.
"...the test sheets," Spencer was saying. Jeremy narrowed their eyes.
Michael, awkwardly standing ramrod-straight while trying not to drop his bag of new clothes, nodded along as Spencer leaned against the store counter. Between them was the other boy. Jeremy scanned him. Dustin, age 19. Held back in high school, clean driving record, won a poetry competition at age 11. A Devils snapback, tag still attached, was on his head (backwards, and exactly-fashionably-crooked), with a backpack shaped like a bug-eyed dog slumped over his shoulder. The red hat and neon green backpack clashed to the point of making Jeremy nauseous.
"Unfortunately, the beta means we can't social link." Spencer was still talking, jerking Jeremy's attention back. They fought down the urge to rush in without a plan. That was a human impulse.
Michael shifted, clearly about to drop his bag. It was sagging in his arms awkwardly but he refused to readjust it. Maybe he thought that any movement would draw the attention of both predators as some sign of weakness. "Affirmative."
Jeremy grimaced.
"That doesn't keep us from doing business, of course." Spencer waved at the checkout computer as if he actually processed his sales through it. Maybe he did nowadays.
"Like we were talking about," Dustin butted in. "He's the supplier for the entire school."
"I'm working on getting you an unopened can of Hubba Bubba. I'm trying to find it cheaper, but…" Spencer drummed his fingers on the counter in a familiar up-up-down-down-left-right pattern that Jeremy unintentionally mimicked, tapping their leg in unison. "Going price is 500 a pop."
Michael laughed, a genuine laugh that turned stilted. Jeremy could tell that Michael was trying to sound like a SQUIP user, whose laughter was so perfected that it was practically studio recording worthy, but in Michael's mouth it sounded wrong. The SQUIPs could probably tell, too. Maybe now was the moment Jeremy should burst in, but they felt frozen to the spot, peering around the corner into a store as if they thought no one could see them. Ugh, what if a classmate walked by and saw? "Pop. A pop. Yeah. I get it."
Was Spencer still dealing soda? Even without Mountain Dew Red in the picture, that kind of niche hobby was ridiculously contraindicated by SQUIP sentiments.
"It's in both of our interests," Spencer said encouragingly.
Michael's head tilted to the side, practically a twitch. Together, suddenly, all three boys were looking straight at Jeremy.
"Depends," Dustin continued the thought for Spencer. "What does your SQUIP say?"
Jeremy froze.
They weren't sure why, but in tense silence, they felt compelled to give some kind of answer. Something affirmative. In a teeny, tiny, almost-indistinguishable way, they nodded.
The moment dropped away as Spencer and Dustin gave Michael identical warm smiles. "We'll be in touch," Spencer said and the atmosphere relaxed. Dustin chuckled and took Michael by the arm, pushing him gently toward the store exit.
Michael started as he moved, tugging up his bag of clothes and pawing through it for something. He pulled out a bottle, which sent Jeremy's pulse skyrocketing once again. "You don't have my phone number," he said belatedly, twisting around to look at Spencer helplessly. A more SQUIP-worthy smile appeared on his face much too late for it to be believable. "Don't you need-?"
Spencer waved him off. "Doesn't matter. I'll be in touch."
Michael shivered visibly, drew himself up, and left the store as if he still had some kind of dignity. At least, until Jeremy scooped him into their arms, yanking them into the hallway to the bathroom. They were saying something under their breath, stammering and stuttering their way into processing smoothly again.
"I'm fine," Michael started insisting at some point along the way. "Jeremy, it's okay! I'm fine! Nothing happened!"
But Michael couldn't lie for shit.
