Chaos on CatNet, Naomi Kritzer [bill gates books recommendations txt] 📗

Our apartment here is an upstairs duplex near a couple of very busy streets. I am not going to cross Bloomington Avenue against the light, and hilariously, the cross street is green for me when I arrive. I cross, then wait to cross back until the light has changed and the traffic is clear, since presumably the rules do not require me to get run over.

It’s cold and gray and the sun’s already going down. When I get back inside, I put water back on the stove for more hot chocolate.

Mom hears the door close when I come back in and emerges from her bedroom / home office, laptop dangling from her hand like an open book. “Did you go somewhere?”

“Just for a walk around the block.” I don’t explain the part about the game.

Her face softens a little. “It’s supposed to get really cold later this week. Get some exercise in while you can.” She goes back into her room, leaving the door ajar this time. Mom is a computer programmer; she’s still doing freelance work, although now that we’re theoretically going to stay in one place for a while, she’s making noises about getting a more normal job.

I pull out my phone while the water heats. I’d meant to look for the fun surprises wherever I go, but I’d have had to take off my gloves. There’s an option now for I did the thing! that I can click. Dancing animated elves present me with a gold star for not being a cheater and then give me a scavenger hunt, pictures of things near me that I can take pictures of for a bonus score, and a new mission: Take a picture of a stranger’s house and mark it on the map. An elf pops out to add, No hurry!

I sit down with my hot cocoa and see that Nell’s identified me and pulled me into a chat room. I log in from my laptop because typing on a keyboard is so much less of a pain. “Hi,” I type. “I went out and crossed against a light.”

“Seriously?!? I just went to the bathroom. It only takes about two minutes for the I Did the Thing button to appear.”

“Did it give you a gold star?”

“What?”

Guess not. I drink my hot cocoa and wonder if the app tracked my movements, if they know I wasn’t a cheater, or they just guessed because I was gone for longer. CheshireCat would know, if they were tracking me. The app has access to my location (so that it can provide location-specific “fun surprises”)—it could definitely have watched me go out to the intersection. It feels a little weird and personal, having an app that’s run by strangers, watching my movements like that. I mean, CheshireCat watches me, but that’s different. CheshireCat is a friend.

“This really is like the Catacombs,” Nell says. “But with more sin and less prayer.”

“Is that the site you mentioned using at home?”

“Yes. It’s the only social media my mother would allow. And it was a good way to talk to Glenys, the girl I told you about. But I wanted to ask you about the homework. Have you started the homework yet?”

“No.” I drag it out of my backpack and take a look. I’m supposed to make a list of things I feel like I have a really solid handle on and things I don’t, and they’ve sent me home with a bunch of stapled paper checklists to help me think of stuff. It’s a mix of academic stuff and adulting skills.

On the first page, I check off that I know how to cook—not that I’m a terrific cook, but I’ve compared notes with Rachel and Firestar, and I am a solidly adequate cook—but that I don’t know how to ride a bus, use a bank, visit a doctor, or file taxes. I wonder if my mother ever filed taxes when we were on the run and, if not, if she’s discussed that with her lawyer.

In the chat room, Nell asks, “Are you filling it out honestly?”

It hadn’t occurred to me to lie. “Yes,” I say. “So far, I know how to cook and unclog a toilet, and other than that, I’m 100 percent pathetic. How about you?”

“I know how to drive. But I don’t have a license.”

“Same, actually.” I kind of shouldn’t know how to drive: I don’t even have a learner’s permit and was taught to drive illegally by Rachel. Nell would probably think that was cool.

“Thing Two said my father should take me in to get my license, but Thing One says it would push up our insurance rates, and now there’s a fight going.”

“Who do you think is going to win?”

“Thing One. Because my father would have to take me in to get my license, and if in doubt, he just doesn’t do anything.”

“Where’s their house?” I ask, and look up the address she gives me. “Do you want to come over here to do your homework? It’s not that far. You could walk. I could even show you how to plunge a toilet and then you’d be able to check one more thing off.”

“It’s dark out.”

“It’s up to you.” Should walking in the city after dark scare me? I’ve spent years climbing out my bedroom window to explore our towns after midnight, but Minneapolis is A CITY, so maybe I should be worried? But the sun goes down before five this time of year.

“I’m going to see if I can get Thing One to give me a ride. See you in a minute!”

I immediately wonder if I should have asked my mother’s permission. I knock on her door. “I’m having a classmate over,” I say.

I tried to sound casual, but she’s on her feet instantly. “Do you need anything? Should I run out for soda? Order pizza?”

“No! I don’t need anything.”

She stares at me for a minute and then nods and says, “I’ll check in when