Read Disrupted for Free Online Page A

prickling stops,” said Gale on her way to the door.
    “You do hate me, don’t you?” I called out. I mean, I knew I had some good excuses for being testy right now. There were only so many surprise shocks a girl could handle in one day. Still... “Or am I being totally self-obsessed and paranoid? Am I picking fights for the malicious hell of it?”
    One of Gale’s eyes extended over her head on its spring to look at me. She didn’t turn. But then I wouldn’t have been able to read anything into her expression anyway.
    She’s a robot, for goodness sake. My mum’s one of Europe’s leading psychiatrists for work with troubled youths, and the first time ever I decide to open up and psycho analyse myself, I choose a robot for the honours. Go figure.
    Gale’s eye retracted.
    I thought she wasn’t going to answer, the dignity of silence or something.
    I’d momentarily forgotten this was Gale.
    “You were right the first time,” said Gale as she opened the door. “I hate you.”

 
     
    Chapter 5
     
     
     
    I woke up on full alert. This was a new experience for me. Usually I toss about, muttering death curses and trying to hide from the alarm by dragging a pillow over my head. Nine out of ten times I land up on the floor, scrambling for bits of clock that’s still happily bleeping away after being smashed against the wall.
    Maybe sleeping upside down was the answer. My head was at the bottom of the bed, my feet resting on the pillow. Exactly as I’d gone down after Gale had left the room.
    Or maybe it was the stark white ceiling above instead of the creamy rippled effect I usually looked up at. I didn’t panic, didn’t pinch myself or blink determinedly until I woke up back in 2013. I knew myself too well, knew I didn’t have the imagination to dream any one of the things that had happened in this strange new world.
    There was a pang of nostalgia, a wistful longing to rewind the clock to that moment I’d foolishly decided to chase Chris into the woods. Followed sharply by the boggling realisation that I could, in theory, because we did actually have a Time Capsule. But not in practice, because apparently that would be a really bad idea although I still wasn’t convinced. I’m all for changing symptomatic events when you have the tools.
    I listened for sounds as I removed the padded bandage and examined my gammy ankle, but the apartment was a tomb. This room had no windows, so I couldn’t even see if it was day or night. My rumbling tummy suggested it didn’t matter, dinner or breakfast would do equally fine.
    And my ankle was no longer gammy, certified first by a tentative step and then some vigorous hopping. I was officially wowed by futuristic medicine, but still ravenous.
    I tiptoed down the short passage, pushed open the only other door to find a bathroom, and then went on to the sitting room. Chris was sprawled on the sofa, long legs hanging over the end, a blanket thrown over him. Gale, no surprise here, was tucked up near his feet.
    The walls of the room, and this was a big surprise, were no longer white. Pale blue clouds drifted soothingly on a softly bruised background. And by drifted, I actually mean drifted. The clouds were rolling gently over a hazy morning sky.
    “Shh,” whispered Gale, “you’ll wake Christian Wood.”
    I rolled my eyes on, “I didn’t say anything.”
    She was up and at me like a flash. “Do you not care that Christian Wood is exhausted and needs his sleep?”
    “What time is it, anyway? And what’s up with the walls?”
    “Six thirty,” she hissed in my ear, and did some ineffectual bumping at my back.
    “But what happened to the walls?” I repeated dumbly, absorbing the tranquil bliss as I let her prod me toward a door other side the room.
    Gale huffed loudly enough to wake the deaf. “I programmed the room to soothe Christian Wood’s dreams. He’s had a traumatic time, and someone selfishly hogged the only bed.”
    “Well, excuse me for breathing any of