《Nanobots, Murder, and Other Family Problems》


 Wednesday, March 30

    Noah,


    You won¡¯t remember writing this. Don¡¯t panic. That¡¯s normal for us these days, part of the damage that Father and his implant did to us along with our own reckless stupidity. You¡¯ll need to read back your memories so you can fake being a real boy for another day with the help of the very thing that ruined us. So read. Read and remember who you are for a few hours, until you lose it all again. Don¡¯t stop, even when you realize what a complete and utter bastard you are. We deserve that guilt. We earned it.


    Don¡¯t go anywhere or talk to anyone until you¡¯re done. We¡¯ve done enough damage by going into a day without our memory. We¡¯re not doing that again.


    Only our favorite brother knows about our condition. Credit to him for helping compile this record using his enhanced memory, the old journal we kept, the last bits of our old life lingering in our broken gray matter, and of course our implant¡¯s logs. We had to guess on a few things to fill in some blanks, but this is close enough to what actually happened on everything important that you can trust it. Even if we got a few things wrong, it¡¯s better than the gaping void where our memory should be.


    Try not to kill yourself today, no matter how much we deserve it. We¡¯ve got too much work to do for that. We stopped him from saving the world, so that¡¯s our job now.


    ¡ªNoah


    Wednesday, March 30


    The men in the black suits climb out of their dark sedan. The house shakes as the huge one pounds a gorilla-sized fist against my grandparents¡¯ door, shouting for them to open up. A police cruiser pulls up to the curb and a pair of uniformed cops get out. I let the thick drapes drop back to cover the spare room¡¯s window and turn to the couch where I¡¯ve been sleeping since Mom died. No point waiting, they¡¯re taking me for real this time. I grab my backpack and start packing.


    ¡°You can¡¯t have him,¡± Gramps shouts through the front door. ¡°We¡¯re filing for custody. Come back when you have a court order.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need a new court order,¡± the giant booms. ¡°Custody reverted to his father on Mary Kimball¡¯s death. Open the door and surrender the boy, or we¡¯ll have you arrested.¡±


    I grab Mom¡¯s SynTech Model 350 laptop and stuff it into my bag. Its bulky shape fills most of the space, but that¡¯s fine. Besides being the top of the line computer from my father¡¯s company, it¡¯s got the only copy of Mom¡¯s hacking tools. She spent a lot of time with it, and it still kind of smells like her. There¡¯s not much else here that I care about taking with me. I stuff some clothes around it in the bag, then put my journal and a small framed picture of her in the front pocket.


    ¡°Noah is practically an adult,¡± Grammy protests, pushing past Gramps to crack open the door, leaving the chain lock in place. ¡°You can¡¯t take him away when he¡¯s this close to eighteen. He should get to choose.¡±


    ¡°Sergeant Thompson,¡± the giant barks. ¡°Break down the door.¡±


    I hear them arguing outside as I recognize the name. He¡¯s the same officer that came to my house a couple of weeks ago to tell me about Mom¡¯s accident. Nice guy then, and he¡¯s delaying that beast of a lawyer now. I owe him one, even if he¡¯s here to help them haul me off.


    I shoulder my pack and walk to the front door. Gramps is reaching into the closet where he keeps his shotgun. Pulling that worked when it was just the lawyers, but with the cops out there it¡¯s more likely to get him shot. I put a hand on his shoulder and shake my head.


    ¡°It¡¯s OK, Gramps. I¡¯ll go.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± he says. ¡°You can¡¯t. Your mother would never¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mom¡¯s gone!¡± The words claw out more harshly than I¡¯d intended. I soften my voice. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want you to do anything you¡¯ll regret. He can¡¯t keep me for more than a few weeks. I¡¯ll get back here before you even miss me.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t know what he¡¯s like,¡± Grammy says. ¡°He¡¯ll twist and turn you. Use you up like he does to everyone.¡±


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    She starts crying when I unlatch the door anyway. I swing it open wide and give each of them a hug as the two cops stand aside, the monster and his three lackeys in their black suits looking on impassively. Gramps holds on as if his strong arms could somehow keep me here. ¡°Remember who you are,¡± he whispers in my ear as I pull away. I nod and step through the door, closing it behind me. Their expressions burn into my memory, Gramps with his angry fear, Grammy¡¯s tearful grief.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me,¡± I tell the giant. He¡¯s even bigger up close. ¡°Leave them alone.¡±


    His hard eyes glare at me from under a haircut that probably cost as much as my laptop as his well-tanned face twists into a cruel smile. He turns to Sergeant Thompson. ¡°Thank you for your assistance. Your part is done here.¡±


    The cops look relieved not to have to arrest an old man. The hulk waves his crew toward the car as he shepherds me into the back seat of a large black sedan before taking the wheel. One of the suits gets in on either side of me. Once we¡¯re a couple of blocks out, the slim black man with thick glasses next to me pulls out a phone. He flips it open and dials.


    ¡°Sir,¡± he says into it after a moment. ¡°Yes. We have him, sir. Smith is driving us to the airport now. Yes. I¡¯ll tell him.¡± He pauses. I can¡¯t hear more than a faint mumble from the other end of the line. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll understand, sir. Thank you.¡±


    He flips his phone closed and turns his head my way. ¡°Mr. Butler will not be able to greet you when you arrive at his school. Pressing matters have required his presence elsewhere. He apologizes and wants you to know that he is still very eager to meet you.¡±


    I¡¯m not interested in talking with these robots in suits, so I just nod. Tom Butler, the father I¡¯ve never met, didn¡¯t care enough to come get me himself. Didn¡¯t even care enough to be there when I arrive. Mom was right about him.


    I pull out my phone at the airport and flip it open to let my grandparents know that I made it that far safely. Before I can dial their number, the giant swipes it out of my hands and glares at me. The next several hours pass in a dull blur, followed by boarding a plane and a surprisingly comfortable seat in first class. Never had one of those before. Mom and I always flew in the cheapest seats on our rare vacations. Maybe having a rich and famous father won¡¯t be all downside.


    A black SUV picks us up from the Las Vegas airport. The road running through the moonlit Nevada desert has nothing to see but the endless rows and rows of solar panels and hulking power lines leading away from them. My father¡¯s work, those. Part of his one-man crusade to save the world again using his barely-legal nanotech, as if the one time that he¡¯d already saved it wasn¡¯t enough. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve read about him, anyway. Mom never talked about my father except to tell me to stay away from him.


    It¡¯s nearly midnight when we arrive at a walled compound in the middle of nowhere. ¡°This is it,¡± the giant announces. I think those are the first words he¡¯s spoken to me this whole trip. I get out and take a look at the tall wall and massive open gates of my temporary home. The car pulls away before I can try to get my phone back.


    The moon shines bright enough for me to make out the sign spelling out The Butler Institute in large metal letters. I don¡¯t see anywhere else to go, so I walk through the gate. A set of bright lights on poles click on to reveal a wide, grass-covered field surrounded by buildings. The clack of hard shoes on concrete rings out and a stout older woman with her hair tied back in a severe bun emerges from around a corner.


    ¡°Noah Kimball, I presume?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°Welcome, Noah. I¡¯m Mrs. Hastings.¡± Her voice is softer than I¡¯d expected from looking at her. ¡°Did you have a good flight?¡±


    ¡°It was fine,¡± I tell her flatly. I don¡¯t mention the threats to my grandparents or having my phone stolen. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll hear all about it later from the oversized gorilla.


    ¡°My condolences for your loss. Your father always had good things to say about your mother. Unfortunately, Mr. Butler was called away quite unexpectedly on a matter of some urgency and wasn¡¯t able to be here to greet you as he wished.¡±


    She pauses. If I were less pissed at the whole situation, I might have told her it was fine, that I understood. Instead I give her a blank stare.


    ¡°You must be exhausted,¡± she says gently after the uncomfortable moment. ¡°Let¡¯s get you situated in the dorms. I¡¯ll have one of the other children give you a tour of the place in the morning.¡±


    I nod again. I guess I could use some sleep. Besides, the sooner this day ends, the sooner I get out of here. I let her lead me along a sidewalk around the open field and up to the dark outline of a large building. She pulls out a ring of keys and unlocks the pair of double doors, then leads me into a cavernous and dimly lit room dotted about with couches and chairs.


    ¡°These are the dorms,¡± she says, ¡°and this is the common room. The other students like to spend most of their free time either here or in the rec room of the Learning Center. The girls¡¯ wing is that way.¡± She points to one of the hallways leading off from the room. ¡°You will never have any reason to go there, so don¡¯t. The boys¡¯ wing is over here.¡±


    She leads me down a long hallway with the same dim lighting as the common room, stopping at a door labeled ¡°Noah¡± in bold, black letters. She opens the door for me and I step into a small room furnished with a twin bed, a plain wooden desk, and a simple wheeled chair. An empty closet stands open to my right, a doorway to my left reveals the world¡¯s smallest bathroom.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get you set up with new clothes and whatever else you need tomorrow. Hopefully everything is to your liking.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say. One month. I can survive this cell for a month.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let your grandparents know that you arrived safely. Your father will be back as soon as he can. The other children will see to you in the morning. Good night.¡±

 Thursday, March 31

    Thursday, March 31


    I take a last look at the picture of Mom, now standing in one corner of my desk, then step toward the door of my cell. The panel of wood and steel is all that stands between me and my new school. I¡¯ve never been great with new social situations. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming my nerves like Mom taught me. Breathe, calm, breathe. I can do this. I try not to think about how much I miss her, how alone I feel. I turn the doorknob and pull.


    The clean, white walls of the dorm corridor are broken every dozen feet with another door like mine. The one right across from me reads ¡°Marc.¡± I glance at a couple of others and don¡¯t see any last names, or even last initials. I guess the student body here at the Butler Institute must be small enough that they don¡¯t have a lot of repeat first names.


    I don¡¯t see anyone else in the hallway. The squeaks of my shoes echo down the corridor. Ahead, I hear the murmur of many voices. I force my feet to carry me forward with all the confidence I can muster. I¡¯m so confident that my hands are shaking and my mind is screaming at me to get back into my cell and hide until someone forcibly pulls me out. I ignore my impulses for self-preservation and continue walking until I turn the corner into the enormous common room. The quiet roar of voices goes suddenly silent. I feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes staring at me.


    The other students run the whole spectrum from near my age down to elementary school. I feel like I somehow stepped into one of those stupid college recruiting brochures where all the pictures are perfect models of diversity, and everyone is looking at you and smiling. Why are they all smiling at me? And why do they all seem vaguely familiar in a way I can¡¯t quite place?


    The smart part of my brain with the social skills in it tells me to smile back, wave, and introduce myself, but the lizard part in charge of self-preservation screams again and tries to push me back to my room. The smart part of me doesn¡¯t stand a chance of taking control, but at least it stops me from running. That wouldn¡¯t do any good now¡ªthey know I¡¯m here.


    One of them steps toward me, a guy nearly as tall as I am with short blond hair styled in a carefully messy way. He looks like he¡¯s about my age, maybe a little younger, but he¡¯s built like a football player. He swaggers like one too. Must be the captain of the team, or the student body president, or whatever the top of the food chain is in this weird little school. The rest of the kids hang back, their eyes still fixed on me like I¡¯m a new, exotic, and maybe dangerous exhibit at the zoo.


    ¡°Noah Kimball?¡± he asks, his smile showing a mouth full of bright white teeth. I know I¡¯ve never met him before, but I could swear that I¡¯ve seen his face somewhere. He extends a hand. I¡¯m supposed to shake it, but my fight-or-flight instincts are still grappling for control and all I can do is look at it, then look back up at his face. One of the younger kids off to one side whispers something I can¡¯t catch and the guy¡¯s smile fades.


    ¡°Noah?¡± he says again, more like a real question this time. I force myself to give a nod in response. He pastes the smile back on his face, but it looks forced now. ¡°I¡¯m Chad Butler. Welcome to the Butler Institute.¡±


    Chad Butler? As in, the son of the institute¡¯s founder? No wonder this guy has an entitled look to him. Wait. That would make him my father¡¯s son. My brother. No, that can¡¯t be right. I don¡¯t have a brother. I would definitely know if I had a brother. Mom wouldn¡¯t have kept me in the dark about that.


    I¡¯m still processing when he seems to decide that he¡¯s given me enough of a chance to shake his hand. He steps closer to give me a too-familiar pat on the shoulder instead. ¡°I heard you¡¯ve had a rough few weeks,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll come around.¡± He turns away. ¡°Come on everyone, clear out. Let¡¯s give the new guy a little space.¡±


    The words seem right, and they would have been reassuring on their own. The tone even sounds almost understanding, but I catch something in his eyes as he turns away that tells me I¡¯ve put myself on his bad side. The crowd thins out, mostly ignoring me now on Chad¡¯s orders. The bulk of them file out through the big double doors. A few head down the hallways leading to the two wings of the dorms. A handful of the younger ones pile onto a couch and a section of the wall in front of them lights up with a show. A few of the kids, led by a cute girl with jet-black hair who looks maybe a year or so younger than me, defy Chad¡¯s lead and come over to introduce themselves.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m Louise,¡± she says, twiddling her fingers nervously in front of her.


    I¡¯m definitely supposed to answer her, but I can¡¯t stop thinking about Chad Butler. That guy can¡¯t really be my brother. No way. The girl gives me another smile and turns to go.


    Answer her!


    I sputter out a hello just in time for her to not hear me say it, since she¡¯s halfway out the door already. Great. I just convinced most of the student body here that I¡¯m fully defective.


    I should follow her. I take a single step and get cut off as a skeletally thin guy a few inches taller than me slides past me from behind. I hadn¡¯t even heard his footsteps from the hallway. He completely ignores me as he glides on past and goes outside. Doesn¡¯t even give me a glance. Maybe I¡¯m not the only socially gifted person here.


    Suddenly the room clears. I¡¯m the only one left besides the little kids now fully absorbed in their cartoons now playing on three different screens around the room. I wonder which of my fellow students that I alienated was supposed to show me around. Maybe that girl, Louise? I should go find her. She had really pretty eyes.


    I¡¯m about to go when I hear loud footfalls on the tile behind me. Not wanting to be surprised again, I turn in time to see a huge guy emerge from the hallway leading back to my room. He¡¯s nearly as big as the giant in the suit from yesterday, a whole head taller than me with shoulders that barely fit through the door frame. Dark hair bunches in tight curls around his head and his skin is light brown. He gives me a broad smile.


    ¡°Welcome, my brother,¡± he says, ¡°I¡¯m Evan.¡±


    Then he pulls me into a hug. I¡¯m too stunned to know how to respond before he releases me. I can¡¯t tell if he means brother biologically, metaphorically, or if this place is some kind of cult compound.


    ¡°Noah, right?¡± he asks, his deep voice full of warmth.


    I give him a slow nod. I don¡¯t want to risk giving any offense. This guy¡¯s arms are thicker than my legs. I¡¯m pretty sure he could snap me like a twig without breaking a sweat if he felt like it.


    ¡°Sorry about your mom, man,¡± Evan says. Does everyone here know my personal business? He waits a moment for me to answer, but I don¡¯t. I¡¯m not at all sure what to make of this guy. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get some food into you. You¡¯ll feel better.¡±


    He takes a few steps toward the doors, then looks back at me. With no other real options, I follow him. Part of me worries that he might pick me up and carry me if I don¡¯t. He leads me out into the crisp spring air and along the sidewalk surrounding the large open field, then slows until I catch up and walks beside me.


    ¡°So, I¡¯m supposed to show you around. That was the dorms, this is the commons.¡± He spreads his hand out in the direction of the neatly manicured grass. ¡°Not to be confused with the dorm common room, which we just left.¡± He laughs and points back and to the left. ¡°Learning Center over there, you¡¯ll see plenty of that place later. The big building with the pillars is the Residence. Up ahead is the cafeteria, past that, the Research Center. That¡¯s where our father does all his high-tech stuff, so don¡¯t worry about that for now unless he invites you there.¡±


    Not ¡°my father,¡± but ¡°our father.¡± So, probably not a cult brother thing then. I almost stumble as I try to cope with the idea of having another brother while figuring out my new local geography. The Residence looks like a two-story colonial mansion¡ªcomplete with a long row of fluted pillars in front. It spans the more-than-football-field length of the commons. The tall concrete wall runs along the opposite side of the field, broken only by the bars of the large metal gate, now closed, where the gorilla dropped me off last night. The desolate scrub of the Nevada desert beyond makes a stark contrast to the lush green grass and trees surrounding the buildings inside the wall. The cafeteria is short and wide, with floor-to-ceiling windows covering the side facing the commons. The Research Center towers behind it, looking more like a fancy office building than anything else.


    A tall girl dressed in skin-tight exercise gear poses in a yoga routine on a mat near the center of the field. Her long, golden hair flows like it¡¯s defying gravity as she grips one ankle, then lifts the leg behind her until it stretches over her head. Is the static electricity out here in the desert so intense that it makes her hair do that? Or maybe it¡¯s some breeze I can¡¯t feel from here. As we get closer, I hear music from an instrument I can¡¯t see and don¡¯t recognize.


    Then I see her face. She¡¯s the most beautiful person I¡¯ve ever laid eyes on. The floating hair combined with her stunning looks makes her seem like something outside reality, an angel somehow enrolled in this school. She notices me and gives me a smile, or maybe she¡¯s smiling at Evan. It doesn¡¯t matter. Something about it breaks the block that¡¯s been keeping me from opening my mouth.


    ¡°Noah,¡± I finally say to Evan. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m Noah.¡±


    We¡¯re close enough that the girl hears it and gives me a friendly nod before she goes back to her workout. My heart beats a little faster and I can¡¯t help turning my head as we pass. She¡¯s breathtaking.


    ¡°Oh, good.¡± Evan laughs. ¡°You can talk. I was worried for a little bit there.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I talk,¡± I answer. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s been a lot to take in this morning. Who¡¯s that girl?¡±


    He laughs again. ¡°That¡¯s Andrea. You¡¯ll like her. Everybody does. She¡¯ll probably invite you to do yoga with her. Don¡¯t give in.¡±


    We cut across the lawn to the cafeteria entrance. Evan holds the door for me and the smells of bacon, sausage, and pancakes hit me. I realize I¡¯m starving.


    ¡°I tried it once,¡± he continues. ¡°Afterwards, I couldn¡¯t walk for two days.¡± I give him a polite chuckle. Not being able to walk seems like a fair trade to get to know a girl who looks like that.


    Inside, all the kids from the dorm building plus a bunch more gather around dozens of round tables spread through the large open room. Several look my way, but at least this time they don¡¯t all stare.


    ¡°Sorry about earlier,¡± I tell Evan. ¡°I¡¯m not usually anti-social, I promise. At least not very. I¡¯m not even sure what I¡¯m doing at this school. My mom died, then my father had his lawyers ship me here.¡± We approach the counter at the back of the room. Behind it, half a dozen attractive twenty-something women bustle around in aprons and hairnets, moving scrambled eggs, sausages, pancakes, and hash browns from sizzling grills to serving containers under a row of heat lamps. Why is everyone here so good-looking?


    ¡°I get you, brother,¡± Evan declares.¡±Don¡¯t worry about it. For now, get the waffles, they¡¯re the best thing here. Ooh, and look, they still have bacon. They must have made extra today. Get some before it¡¯s gone.¡±


    Brother again. So weird. I shake it off and take his word on breakfast, getting a waffle and two strips of bacon from one of the servers. He leads me over to a table in the corner where we talk as we eat. Well, mostly he talks, but at least at this point I can respond like a real person.


    He wasn¡¯t wrong about breakfast. The waffles are great. While I chew, he explains the daily routine: wake up, breakfast, class with teachers, computer lab, lunch, free time, project time, dinner, study, sleep, then wake up and do it all over again.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all work, though,¡± he assures me. ¡°During evening study we can turn on the screens in the common room if everyone is current on their schoolwork. And we get day trips on Saturdays if the weather¡¯s good. Oh, and extra project time on Sundays instead of classes. Project time is practically fun time. You can pretty much work on anything you want, as long as Father approves it.¡±


    ¡°So, your father is Tom Butler?¡± I ask, just to confirm. He turns his head and looks at me sideways, like I asked him if the sky was blue, then laughs.


    ¡°Yeah. Tom Butler. The great man with the plan himself. The tamer of the fearsome nanobot horde. The technological savior of mankind. And of course, the founder of the illustrious Butler Institute.¡± He waves one hand around theatrically, and his smirk tells me that he doesn¡¯t take our father¡¯s reputation seriously.


    ¡°So you and me and Chad are¡­¡±


    ¡°Brothers,¡± he chuckles. ¡°Yeah, I know it¡¯s hard to believe, what with me being so good-looking and all.¡±


    ¡°All with different mothers, I¡¯m guessing?¡±


    He laughs again and gives my shoulder a pat. It¡¯s nearly the same motion that Chad had used on me earlier, but from Evan it feels friendly and comforting instead of condescending. ¡°You don¡¯t miss anything, do you Noah?¡±


    ¡°I used to be quicker on the uptake, I promise. Give me a couple of days and I might get to where I can tie my shoes without help again.¡±


    He keeps chuckling. I like this big guy. Something about his calm, deep voice and easy laugh helps me to feel almost normal. An electronic bell rings, and a lot of the kids clear out, but Evan doesn¡¯t seem to be in any rush, so I keep eating bacon and waffles and talking to my newfound brother and friend.


    ¡°Evan,¡± a stern voice says from behind me. I turn and see Mrs. Hastings. ¡°When I asked you to show Noah around, I expected more than a tour of our dining facilities.¡± She glances at her watch. ¡°You are going to be tardy for your class.¡±


    I¡¯m still not sure what her role is at this school, but it seems to be something like a principal. Whatever it is, she¡¯s got enough authority that Evan doesn¡¯t bother arguing with her. He says goodbye and hustles off, leaving his tray on a counter near the door on his way out.


    ¡°Come along, Noah,¡± Mrs. Hastings says, turning to me. Her voice softens. ¡°You¡¯ve got a busy morning ahead of you. We need to see where you stand academically. We have your transcripts, of course, but we will do our own assessment. Our curriculum is quite advanced, and we expect to tailor your coursework to build from your current foundation.¡±


    She walks me back across the grassy field and over to the Learning Center, a huge concrete and steel building nestled at a right angle between the stately Residence and the bulk of the dorm building. I spend the morning in a small room with a table and two chairs answering questions, some in writing, most verbally. The tests cover everything I¡¯ve ever learned and a whole lot more. Quantum physics? Organic chemistry? Neuroscience? I was at the top of my class, but why would anyone expect someone my age to know any of this? I do my best, and eventually Mrs. Hastings releases me for a break.


    It occurs to me as I hit the restroom that I might want to underplay some of what I know. If the test is any indicator, Mrs. Hastings isn¡¯t kidding about this place being advanced. And if they¡¯re going to base my coursework on what I know now, having some easier classes might make my life here more manageable for the next few weeks. I return to the small testing room where she starts drilling me on computer science. Perfect. I learned that outside of school, so nothing in my transcripts would show I should know anything about it. I don¡¯t even try to answer half the questions, and I tank the rest deliberately. Mrs. Hastings doesn¡¯t seem to notice. Just nods and moves on.


    History and political science come next, and I give a half-decent try on those. She asks some broad open-ended questions and occasionally interrupts me to ask me why I answered something a certain way. Finally, she seems satisfied.


    ¡°We¡¯re done,¡± she declares. She scans through her notes and my test papers. ¡°Not as bad as I feared, given your background in the public school system. Perhaps we can make something of you.¡±


    ¡°Uh, thanks?¡± I say, not sure if I¡¯ve been praised or insulted.


    ¡°Come along then. You¡¯ll have just enough time to meet with your cohort before lunch.¡± She leads me down a long hallway to the other end of the building. ¡°This way to the computer lab. This will be the only class you¡¯ll attend as a group with your six classmates. The other subjects will be conducted one-on-one with each of your two teachers, who you will meet tomorrow.¡±


    That sounds weird to me, but I don¡¯t say so. I always did fine in classes of thirty, and rarely got one-on-one attention from anyone but Mom.


    Chad stands by the doorway of the lab as we arrive, looking like he wants more from me than he got this morning. This time I actually respond when he puts his hand out. I give him a firm handshake like Mom taught me, but he seems to think it¡¯s some kind of power struggle, twisting his arm so that his hand is on top and gripping like he¡¯s trying to crush my hand. I squeeze back, glad he¡¯s not as strong as he seems to think he is. Mrs. Hastings leaves me in his custody and he brings me into a classroom with rows of computers on long tables along the edges and rolling whiteboards and chairs in the middle. He introduces me around like he owns the place.


    Evan waves hello and greets me warmly again from one of the computers. I¡¯m glad to see his friendly face in my class. Next to him is Louise, the pretty Asian girl I nearly managed to say hello to in the dorms. This time I manage to give her a greeting she can hear.


    ¡°Welcome again,¡± she says with a friendly smile. ¡°We¡¯ll talk more, but give me one sec to finish this.¡± She looks back at what looks like Java code on her screen with a look of fierce concentration.


    Andrea, the yoga girl from the field, looks at me, gives me a big grin, and nods. She doesn¡¯t say anything. Maybe she¡¯s shy. Her hair is still doing that weird floating thing. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s causing it. It¡®s not static or wind, not inside like this. Maybe it¡¯s some kind of fancy hair product she uses.


    Chad steers me to Marc next, a brown-haired guy with a slight build. In a school full of people that look like they could all be models, his average looks stand out. What he lacks in appearance, he seems intent on making up for in enthusiasm.


    ¡°Noah! Brother!¡± he gushes. ¡°It¡¯s so good you¡¯re here. We are going to have so much fun! It¡¯s so great you¡¯re part of the family now. I mean, you always were, but now you¡¯re here!¡±


    Another brother? The family? Things start clicking inside my skull. I look at Chad again, then Evan, then scan the rest of my class. Chad¡¯s ears are shaped like mine. Exactly like mine. That little crooked line at the edge of Marc¡¯s mouth when he smiles, I have that. Louise has that same slight upturn at the end of her nose that I have. And Andrea¡­


    Oh no.


    My mind reels as Chad leads me to Jeff, the tall, gangly guy that slid silently past me in the dorms. He¡¯s sitting off in a corner by himself. In front of him, a metal ball bounces around his keyboard striking keys as text forms on the screen. I shake my head and look again. I wasn¡¯t imagining it. Jeff¡¯s eyes are intently tracking a metal ball as it jumps all over his keyboard, typing stuff out.


    ¡°Is he psychic or something?¡± I whisper.


    ¡°No, he just uses his cloud for everything,¡± Chad replies. He seems irritated by the question. ¡°Jeff, stop showing off and come meet your new brother.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°His cloud?¡± I ask. ¡°What cloud?¡±


    ¡°His cloud,¡± Chad repeats, like it should mean something more the second time. My blank stare seems to baffle him. ¡°His nanobot cluster?¡± He says it slowly, like he¡¯s not sure I speak his language.


    My jaw goes slack. Nanobots are dangerous. Basically illegal. No sane person would let a teenager like Jeff go anywhere near them.


    Chad gets a sharp look in his eyes, then laughs at me. ¡°You don¡¯t know what we do here, do you?¡± he says, his voice dripping with condescension. ¡°The whole purpose of the Butler Institute?¡±


    Tom Butler¡¯s Institute. The Tom Butler who saved the world from the Gray Goo. The mysterious billionaire who¡¯s been using his experimental nanotech to single-handedly halt climate change, cure cancer, stop wars, and clean up after disasters across the globe for the last twenty years.


    He¡¯s been having kids. Lots of kids. And he¡¯s been training his kids to do what he does.


    I¡¯m one of his kids.


    I fall into a chair. Chad is talking but I¡¯m only catching half of it. Something about our father and the institute. I catch phrases like ¡°preserve life,¡± ¡°end suffering,¡± and ¡°elevate humanity.¡± The information is coming faster than I can process it, but I catch that my classmates all had implants installed over the last year to let them control their own nanobot clouds.


    I remember reading about Tom Butler¡¯s brain implant. It¡¯s part of his legend. The only one of those implants in existence is the one in Tom Butler¡¯s head. He used it to control the nanobots and work his miracles. He¡¯s never made a copy, never given access to anyone else. At least that''s what I knew was true until right now.


    Andrea smiles at me again. My sister Andrea. I carefully keep my eyes from going south of her face. I¡¯m glad the morning has been so busy that I haven¡¯t had a spare minute to dwell on her or Louise. A rainbow ribbon that looks like it¡¯s made of pure light appears from nowhere. It swirls up and around her head, weaving in and out of her floating hair.


    Louise winks at me then puts up an index finger. A point of green light appears, then stretches and elongates. It worms its way around her finger then disappears into her palm. Marc, not to be outdone, puts both of his hands up. A pair of shining orbs materialize out of thin air. He waves his hands and they start flying around in front of him. I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m more floored by the impossible magic they are doing, or the fact that they¡¯re all my half-siblings.


    ¡°Hey, Marc,¡± Louise says, ¡°I thought you hadn¡¯t solved the math for those yet.¡±


    Marc ignores her as he grins and waves his hands more, his eyes fixed on his flying creations. The balls accelerate, moving in crazy patterns so fast that I can barely keep track of them. One comes dangerously near my head and I duck out of the way just in time to feel it breeze through my hair.


    ¡°Watch it!¡± Chad barks at Marc. "They are not toys!"


    Marc takes his eyes from the balls for a second to glance at Chad. The two ball-bearings take one last spin around the room then head straight toward Chad¡¯s face. They look like they¡¯ll put a pair of holes right through him, as fast as they¡¯re going, but instead they puff into dark dust as they hit his skin. The dust fades to nothing as Chad stumbles backwards and falls to the floor. His face contorts with fury.


    ¡°I told you to watch it!¡±


    He gets to his feet and balls up his fists, advancing on his smaller brother. Marc sees the look on his face and braces himself for a blow. I jump up and step forward to put myself between them, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to get there in time.


    A deep laugh comes from my right, and I turn to see Evan¡¯s face filled with mirth. Chad stops and glares at him. Louise is clearly trying hard not to laugh too, but she¡¯s not doing very well at it. Andrea chortles with an awesome snorting sound at the end, which makes Louise just give up and laugh out loud. Even Jeff, still off in the corner by himself, starts chuckling. I find myself laughing too.


    Laughing for the first time since Mom¡¯s accident.


    Chad¡¯s face goes bright red and he gives every one of us a death glare as he slumps into a chair. It takes a minute or two, but we eventually stop laughing at him.


    ¡°Are you all done?¡± he demands, as if he were somehow the mature one in this situation. When no one says anything, he gets back up. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s forget all this. Come on, Noah. You need your lab account set up. I¡¯m taking you to the admins.¡±


    He storms out of the room and I glance over at Evan to see if I should really follow him. The big guy nods and I hurry out the door to catch up. At the far end of the long tiled hallway, he turns into a small office.


    ¡°Hey, Janet,¡± he says, his confident swagger back and his face hiding the humiliation he just endured. ¡°The new guy is here. You got his account ready?¡±


    A dark-skinned woman with long hair in tight braids who looks like she couldn¡¯t be much out of college turns from the screen at her desk. Like most of the other staff I¡¯ve seen working here, she¡¯s very attractive. Does Tom Butler only hire models to work here?


    ¡°Morning, Chad. Yes, I¡¯ve got him all set.¡± She looks past him to me and smiles. ¡°And you must be Noah.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Noah Kimball,¡± I reply.


    ¡°Well, this is a little different for me,¡± she says, beckoning me over to a second rolling chair next to her desk. ¡°Usually I have to explain the rules to six-year-olds when they get their computer accounts. I guess I don¡¯t need to break out the sock puppets in your case.¡±


    I push past Chad and take the seat. ¡°You¡¯ve never had transfer students before?¡± I ask, a little surprised. She gives me a funny look for a second.


    ¡°You¡¯re the first,¡± she says. ¡°Everyone else was born right here on campus, or so they tell me.¡±


    I¡¯d figured out my class, but I¡¯m somehow still surprised to hear it¡¯s the whole school. ¡°Oh. I wasn¡¯t sure how unique my situation was.¡±


    ¡°First time I¡¯ve heard of any of Tom¡¯s kids being raised outside,¡± she says. ¡°Anyway, you have much of a background with computers from your time out in the real world?¡±


    ¡°I used them for school. You know, writing papers and stuff,¡± I tell her. I definitely don¡¯t mention that I used to spend evenings and weekends helping my mom find backdoors into the systems of whatever corporation she thought was the worst that week, wreaking havoc on their servers in whatever ways we felt appropriate. I guess I¡¯m technically sort of a criminal, but since it was always hacktivism for a good cause, it couldn¡¯t have been too wrong. At least that¡¯s what Mom always said. Anyway, I suspect that I know my way around computer networks better than Janet does.


    ¡°I can use Windows, I guess,¡± I continue with the lie I started with Mrs. Hastings. I don¡¯t mention Linux or SynTechOS or the whole suite of scripting languages and hacking tools that Mom had been teaching me since I was old enough to type. ¡°And I¡¯ve played some games.¡± That should make my story more believable.


    She nods and smiles, not looking at all suspicious. ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°Rules are simple. No contact with anyone outside the campus that makes your identity known. No tampering with the workstations. Don¡¯t do any shopping, that¡¯s all supposed to go through the campus purchasing system. We take care of filtering the internet access, so other than those rules, you don¡¯t need to worry about what content is allowed. If you can get to it, it¡¯s approved.¡± I take that as a personal challenge to make sure I can access every chat group, forum, web site, and bulletin board on the internet. ¡°Your user name will be ¡®noah¡¯ in all lowercase letters. Hopefully that¡¯s easy for you to remember. Here, go ahead and set your password.¡±


    She clicks some keys and gets a password prompt up on her screen. I put my body between Chad and the keyboard as Janet politely looks away while I type in MyN3wL!f3, hit enter, then type it again. I smell a trace of her perfume as I pull back from the keyboard, and can¡¯t help noticing again how pretty she is. If I can¡¯t dream of my fellow students, at least the staff can keep my mind occupied.


    ¡°All set then,¡± she says. ¡°If you forget it and need a password reset, or have any issues with the computers or the network, just come see me or Roxanne. One of us should be in this office anytime you need us.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°Thanks, Janet,¡± Chad echoes with his stupid movie-star smile back on his face, like she just did him a personal favor. He steps out and leads me back toward the computer lab.


    ¡°Are all the staff here hot young women?¡± I ask him quietly once we¡¯re far enough away from Janet¡¯s office.


    ¡°Talking like that is a good way to get them fired and yourself into trouble,¡± he says without looking at me, his voice harsh. ¡°Don¡¯t even look at them like that. They¡¯re not for you.¡± I shake my head. I had written off my cult compound theory about this place, but now I¡¯m less sure.


    Back in the lab, my other newfound siblings are clattering away at their keyboards, but that dies down as I clear the doorway. Marc gets up out of his chair and runs my way, nearly crashing into me as he stops himself too slowly.


    ¡°Noah, hey Noah!¡± he exclaims, getting his balance back. ¡°Can I ask you a question?¡±


    ¡°Not until I make sure he can log in,¡± Chad says, putting a hand on Marc¡¯s chest and pushing him back. From the tension in his arm I can tell he wants to shove him over.


    I give Marc a helpless shrug and let Chad walk me to one of the workstations. The computer boots up and splashes the standard disclaimer that all computers have: No artificial intelligence was used in the design or production of this information system. I make sure my new credentials work, then Chad very slowly explains to me how to access the programming tools I¡¯ll need to complete the lab assignments.


    As Chad walks away, a notification pops up telling me that I have my first task ready to start. I click it and get an email with my first bit of work, due tomorrow. They don¡¯t waste any time here. It looks like something from a really basic intro to computer science class, so I guess they¡¯re serious about tailoring my schoolwork to my level. I can knock it out in a couple of minutes, but I¡¯m more interested in the siblings that are looking my way again now that Chad is sulking at one of the workstations across the room.


    Marc rolls his chair back my way. ¡°So, Noah. I¡¯ve always wondered, in real school there are lots of kids and just one teacher, right? Like in the shows?¡±


    I nod slowly. Is their only exposure to the outside world through television?


    ¡°So, if someone doesn¡¯t understand something, how does the teacher know to go back and explain it again?¡±


    ¡°Usually they just keep going,¡± I tell him. ¡°But if you ask, they¡¯ll sometimes help you out. Depends on the teacher, I guess.¡±


    I turn away and somehow Louise is already there, perched on the table on the other side of my keyboard. ¡°So,¡± she asks, ¡°did Father visit you very often? He never talked about you to any of us, at least not until last week when he told us you were coming.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯ve still never met the man. Where is he, anyway?¡±


    Andrea, who came up behind Marc while I was looking at Louise, does a dance with her fingers and a little globe appears in the air in front of her. Oceans and continents form in blue and green, then Canada starts glowing red and pulsing.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Evan says, rolling his chair over and glancing at the image floating in the air as if it was something he saw every day. ¡°There was some medical emergency he had to help with in Ottawa. Should be back tomorrow, I think, or maybe the day after.¡±


    ¡°It was their Prime Minister.¡± Jeff¡¯s voice comes from off in the corner. He¡¯s still looking at his screen. ¡°The official story is that acute symptoms suddenly manifested from an inoperable brain tumor he has had for some time, though his opponents have claimed that the diagnosis was a ploy for political gain.¡± I just nod. I guess my father is too busy saving the world today, so I¡¯ll meet him tomorrow then, maybe.


    The electronic ding-dong sounds again, and my sibs log out of their computers. I follow their lead, and go with Evan, Marc, and the girls back to the cafeteria for lunch. Sitting at a round table with them, I finally get my brain together enough to ask some questions.


    ¡°So, you all got some kind of implant?¡± I ask. ¡°And you can do the kind of stuff that Tom Butler is famous for? Like cure cancer and build stuff out of nothing and all that?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t tell you much, but I think I can answer that,¡± Louise says. ¡°Yes, and sort of. Father calls what we have the training wheels version. I don¡¯t think any of us will be performing surgery any time soon.¡±


    ¡°And building stuff takes forever,¡± Evan chimes in.


    Andrea just smiles and nods. Does she ever talk? I want to ask, but it feels rude.


    ¡°And it¡¯s not out of nothing, it¡¯s out of whatever is handy,¡± Marc adds.


    I catch Jeff out of the corner of my eye as he sits down by himself at a table in the corner. His motions as he sits are somehow wrong. Unnaturally rigid. He¡¯s definitely an odd one, even for this crowd. I turn back to my more sociable sibs and finish eating while they pepper me with more questions about life on the outside. I never thought my standard upbringing in the suburbs of Denver would be so fascinating, but apparently it is to them.


    After lunch, they take me to the rec room in the basement of the Learning Center. It¡¯s a huge space dotted with concrete pillars. One side is filled with things Grammy would have thought were super fun for kids. Ping-pong and foosball tables mixed in with pods of couches and small tables surrounded by chairs. Shelves along one side have arts and crafts supplies along with every board and card game I¡¯ve ever heard of and a whole lot I haven¡¯t. The other side of the place is a gym with treadmills, stationary bikes, and free weights.


    Chad is already there when we arrive, pumping dumbbells with a tall guy whose mom must have been from southern Asia. He doesn¡¯t say anything to us as we come in, and none of my new sibling friends say anything to him. That suits me fine. Andrea grabs a sketch pad and some colored pencils and settles herself onto one of the couches to draw. Evan drags me over to one of the foosball tables, where Marc and Louise also grab handles. I¡¯m terrible at the game, since I think I¡¯ve played it maybe twice in my life before, but Evan and Louise coach me in some of the finer points of tabletop soccer. I even score a point near the end.


    Marc chatters almost non-stop while we play, which doesn¡¯t seem to bother the others but grates on me. It¡¯s like the guy has no filter, just says whatever pops into his head. Maybe Evan and Louise are used to it, having lived with him literally their whole lives. I can kind of see why Chad doesn¡¯t like him much. Louise is fun, but intensely competitive. I definitely like her, but she¡¯s probably best in small doses. Evan is just great to have around.


    The omnipresent electronic ding-dong sounds again, and my group disperses to work on their various projects. Evan invites me to come along and help him with his, since I haven¡¯t started one of my own yet. It¡¯s something about a better way to extract fresh water from seawater, which doesn¡¯t sound all that interesting, but I don¡¯t have anything better to do. We¡¯re on our way back to the computer lab to work on it when Mrs. Hastings finds me again.


    ¡°Noah,¡± she greets me, ¡°would you like to give your grandparents a call? I notified them last night of your arrival, but I thought you would like to let them know yourself that you¡¯re settling in.¡±


    As much fun as extra chemistry and engineering work with Evan sounds, Grammy and Gramps must be worried sick. I say goodbye to my huge brother and follow Mrs. Hastings. She leads me out and toward the mansion next door. ¡°In case Even failed to tell you, this is the Residence. Mr. Butler and most of the staff members that live on premises have their quarters here, along with our youngest students. The infirmary, salon, spa, and other services are located on the eastern side of the first floor.¡±


    She sweeps open the large wooden doors and escorts me through a huge open foyer where a dozen toddlers play together under the watchful eyes of some young-looking women, beautiful as usual. Their mothers? No, I don¡¯t think so. They don¡¯t have that mom vibe or bear any family resemblance with the child they¡¯re each tending. Mrs. Hastings doesn¡¯t slow, and I have to hurry to catch up to her as she heads down one of the hallways.


    The carpet and wood-paneled walls with paintings every few yards between ornate light fixtures are a stark contrast to the spartan decor in the Learning Center and the dorms. Near the end of the wide hallway a plush armchair sits next to a small wooden half-circle table that holds a phone, one of the old-school ones with a wire to the wall and another to the handset. I remember we used to have one of these back home before Mom and I both got our mobiles. I miss having my phone, and I¡¯m starting to suspect I¡¯m not getting it back before I leave here.


    ¡°You know their number, I hope?¡± Mrs. Hastings says. I nod. ¡°Good. My office is just at the end of the hall here. Please come see me when you are done.¡±


    She leaves me to it, and I pick up the handset and dial. I settle into the armchair as the beeps tell me that the phone in Denver is ringing. After a couple of those, I hear a click and Grammy¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Hey Grammy, it¡¯s me.¡±


    ¡°Noah!¡± she exclaims. ¡°Are you OK? Did they hurt you?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡± What did she think they were going to do to me? ¡°They¡¯re treating me well. How are you two doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surviving. Let me get your grandfather on here,¡± she says.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Frank!¡± I hear her call. ¡°Frank! Get in here, it¡¯s Noah!¡±


    ¡°Is he OK?¡± I hear his voice faintly. ¡°If they hurt him when they took him I swear I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°He says he¡¯s fine,¡± her voice says. ¡°Noah, I¡¯m putting you on speaker.¡±


    ¡°Hey Gramps.¡± I say. ¡°How are you holding up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m furious. I¡¯m getting a lawyer and we¡¯re getting you back right now. That man has no right to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just let it go,¡± I interrupt him. ¡°By the time you get it to court, I¡¯ll be eighteen. More importantly, why didn¡¯t you tell me I had brothers and sisters here? Did you know?¡±


    The other end of the line goes quiet.


    ¡°Your mother didn¡¯t want you to know about that,¡± Grammy finally says. ¡°Or anything about your father¡¯s crazy compound. And after the way he treated her, I don¡¯t blame her. I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s been telling you there, but your father is not a good man.¡±


    ¡°She just wanted to keep you safe,¡± Gramps adds, ¡°and let you grow up normal. She didn¡¯t want you growing up to be like him. And she definitely didn¡¯t want you wrapped up in your father¡¯s plans to remake the world. She was going to tell you everything when you turned eighteen. That¡¯s when we would have told you too.¡±


    I sigh. They were just doing what Mom wanted. I wish she¡¯d told me.


    ¡°So how was the trip there?¡± Grammy asks.


    ¡°Not too bad,¡± I tell her. ¡°That giant lawyer took my phone away, so I¡¯m using the land line here. I¡¯m not sure how often I¡¯ll get to make calls.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, champ,¡± Gramps says. ¡°We¡¯ll get you a new one when you get out.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Gramps. It got better today, though. The school here doesn¡¯t seem terrible, even if it¡¯s a little weird. My dorm room is fine. The food has nothing on your cooking, but it¡¯s not too bad. And I really like some of my siblings.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s good to hear,¡± Grammy says. ¡°We¡¯re praying for you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell her. Mom didn¡¯t share her parents¡¯ faith, so I never picked it up either. I don¡¯t understand how they can believe in a God that would let Mom die like that, but their convictions don¡¯t seem to have been shaken by the events of the last few weeks.


    ¡°So tell us everything,¡± Grammy insists. ¡°I want to know all about your new home and your new friends.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not his home, Helen,¡± Gramps snaps.


    ¡°Hush, Frank. Tell us everything, Noah.¡±


    So I do. The next thing I know, the bell is ringing again with its electronic ding-dong.


    ¡°Hey, I think it¡¯s dinner time here. I should probably go.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to write in your journal,¡± Grammy says.


    ¡°I will,¡± I tell her. ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°We love you, Noah,¡± Gramps adds. ¡°Remember who you are.¡±


    As if I could forget. I say goodbye one more time and set the handset in its cradle. I get up and go through the open door at the end of the hall. Mrs. Hastings looks up from her neatly organized desk as I come in.


    ¡°Everything satisfactory with your grandparents, I hope?¡±


    ¡°Yes, thanks.¡±


    ¡°I imagine you¡¯re anxious to meet your father,¡± she says. I give her an emphatic nod, which she answers with a sympathetic shake of her head. ¡°Unfortunately, I just received word that he won¡¯t be back today. I expect him either tomorrow evening or early on Saturday.¡±


    She gets up and fetches a flat, rectangular shape from the shelf and hands it to me. ¡°In the meantime, this is your tablet. It¡¯s loaded with all your textbooks and everything else you¡¯ll need for your coursework.¡± I take a look at the device. The thing is higher than high-end: a flat touch-screen computer no larger than a hardcover book. I¡¯d heard rumors that SynTech was working on these, but I¡¯ve never seen one before. Another perk of being in the Butler family, I guess.


    ¡°Your calendar is already loaded with your schedule,¡± she continues. ¡°And you¡¯ll get a meeting with your father as soon as he arrives. There¡¯s also a system to requisition clothing or other necessities. I saw you didn¡¯t bring much with you. Feel free to order whatever you feel you need. We don¡¯t generally limit expenses unless they become exorbitant, so try to keep it under a few thousand dollars a month.¡±


    My head reels with the amount. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve spent more than a couple thousand on all the clothes I¡¯ve ever worn in my life. I thank her and make a detour to drop the tablet off in my dorm room before following the streams of my siblings across the grassy commons to dinner. I get more friendly waves and greetings than I can count, and this time I can even respond in kind.


    In the cafeteria, Evan waves me over to his table once I get my tray with steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Louise and Andrea are already there with him. Marc is one table over, talking nonstop to a group of kids that look like they¡¯re a couple of years younger. Jeff is off by himself in a corner again, his back to the room. I don¡¯t see Chad anywhere, but I don¡¯t care enough about him to ask where he is.


    The food is good enough, and so is the company even though Andrea still doesn¡¯t talk at all. It doesn¡¯t feel like she¡¯s silent though, since her face, in addition to being beautiful, is incredibly expressive. She pops little images in the air with her dancing fingers when she wants to say something. After dinner, Evan puts on a movie on one of the big screens in the common room of the dorms. Louise and Andrea take the couch next to ours. All three of them do homework on their tablets while we watch, which makes me suspect I¡¯ll be doing that too tomorrow night.


    The minimal sleep that I got last night must be taking its toll on me. I¡¯m exhausted by the time the credits roll. I beg off while my siblings are still doing homework and find my way back to the right hallway to go back to my room. I take one more look at the picture of Mom on the desk before settling into bed. I miss her a lot, but I¡¯ve always wanted a brother or sister, and now I have dozens, and some that I even like.


    I¡¯m dying to meet my father. I¡¯ve been curious about him for as long as I can remember, and now that I¡¯m here, I¡¯m even more curious. Maybe this place won¡¯t be so bad.

 Friday, April 1

    Friday, April 1


    Part of me expects that any minute someone is going to shout out ¡°April Fools!¡± and this whole experience will turn out to be a gigantic prank. The rest of me is sure it¡¯s all some weird dream, and I¡¯m going to wake up to Mom¡¯s voice any time now. But no one wakes me up, and no one does the big April Fool¡¯s Day reveal, so by the time I get seated at breakfast I¡¯m forced to accept this place as my new reality. My siblings don¡¯t seem to realize what day it is. No pranks, no jokes, no one even mentions the holiday until I ask Evan about it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, brother,¡± he answers around a mouth full of waffles. ¡°A lot of that kind of thing we just don¡¯t do here. I mean, I¡¯ve heard of it, but mostly from shows. Marc tried a prank, years ago. He decided to get Chad by putting hair dye in his shampoo, but that ended up with him getting a beating from a blue-haired Chad. No one much wanted to try anything like that afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Does Chad beat on Marc a lot?¡± I ask.


    ¡°He used to, especially right after we moved into the dorms and lost our nannies. I¡¯d stop him if I was around, but Chad was smart enough to take his shots when no one was looking. He doesn¡¯t anymore. He got called to Father¡¯s office a couple of years ago after he was careless enough to give Marc a black eye. I don¡¯t know what the old man told Chad, but he hasn¡¯t laid a hand on him since. Yesterday was pretty close though.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I thought he was going to lay him out.¡± I dip a piece of sausage in the runny egg yolks on my plate and take the bite.


    ¡°Naw,¡± Evan says. ¡°He¡¯ll threaten him, but he won¡¯t hurt him. When we got our implants, Father said he¡¯d take them away if he didn¡¯t think we were worthy of them. Chad¡¯s a dick, but he¡¯s not going to risk losing his cloud. Or worse yet, disappointing Father.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s that big of a suck-up, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s Chad, a real kiss up, kick down kind of guy.¡±


    That tracks with what I¡¯ve seen of him. I nod and finish breakfast, smiling at the gorgeous young woman in a white apron who comes to wipe the table as we get up. She flashes a quick smile back but quickly looks away to focus on her work. I peel my eyes away from her and walk with Evan over to the Learning Center. According to the tablet¡¯s schedule app, I¡¯m supposed to have class in room 164. Evan points me down the right hallway, then heads off to his own class. When I get to my room, I see a slim older woman with immaculately coiffed white hair and a neat navy pantsuit already there, seated at one of the two chairs around a small circular table. I¡¯d guess she¡¯s in her mid-seventies.


    ¡°Mrs. Jones?¡± I venture, stepping through the doorway.


    ¡°Yes, and you must be Noah,¡± she says, standing to greet me. The smart part of me is relieved to have a teacher that doesn¡¯t look like a lot of the staff here. I don¡¯t know how much I would be able to concentrate if I had someone trying to teach me who looked like Janet or the cafeteria girls.


    My new teacher talks me through the subjects she¡¯s going to be covering: literature, history, geography, political science, and ethics. She seems nice, in a no-nonsense kind of way. We spend most of the next couple of hours doing a fast version of world history that condenses the broad strokes of all the history I¡¯ve ever learned into one sitting. She¡¯s good at this. Really good. She uses a tablet like mine to pop reading assignments to me every time I don¡¯t know something that she asks me, so by the end of her class I have a dozen books and essays lined up to read. I sigh as I realize I¡¯m never going to have free time again.


    Halfway through the morning, a balding man in a rumpled shirt knocks on the open door. ¡°Charles!¡± says Mrs. Jones, looking up at him. ¡°They called you back in as well?¡±


    He grins at her, revealing a crooked set of teeth. ¡°Yes, Grace. I was trying to stay retired this time, but you know how it is. They make it so hard to refuse.¡±¡°Well, this young man is Noah,¡± she says, packing up her things into her black leather briefcase. ¡°If my experience with him so far is any indicator, you¡¯ll enjoy him.¡± She smiles and takes her leave.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Without any further greeting, the man makes his way to the white board that covers one wall and immediately starts into a whirlwind math course, beginning with a lightning-fast review of calculus. ¡°Just stop me when we get to what you don¡¯t know,¡± he says cheerfully as he whips through principles and equations. If Mrs. Jones was good, he¡¯s amazing. I finally stop him as he hits the second fundamental theorem of calculus and ask his name.


    ¡°My name is Charles, as you heard, but you can call me Mr. Johnson if that feels more comfortable for you,¡± he says, then turns back to the board and continues scrawling numbers and greek letters, talking to the board more than to me but throwing questions my way every minute or two to make sure I¡¯m still with him. I was going to tell him that we had hit the limit of what I knew, but his explanations are so clear that even though he¡¯s plowing through new material, I think I¡¯m still following. I feel my brain expanding as he pours pure mathematics into it.


    An old, banged-up plastic watch on his wrist beeps and he glances at it. ¡°Twenty minutes left,¡± he notes. ¡°Goodness, I lost track. Time for you to work some problems.¡±


    And with that, I¡¯m up at the board with him, integrating by partial fractions and calculating the lengths of parameterized curves under his expert tutelage. I learn as much in a couple of hours as I did in a whole year of math at my old school. He lays on a homework load heavier than I would have done in a week back home as the bell sends me on my way to computer lab.


    I see Jeff in the hallway ahead of me, gliding along. It takes me a second look to realize that he isn¡¯t just walking with some unnaturally smooth gait, he¡¯s literally gliding. His feet don¡¯t move. Well, they move, but only because all of him is moving. It¡¯s like someone is pushing him on roller skates, but I can¡¯t see anything between his black shoes and the tile floor. Chad wasn¡¯t kidding when he said that Jeff uses his cloud for everything. Even walking, apparently.


    ¡°Hey Jeff,¡± I greet him, catching up and matching pace with his glide. He turns his head my way and inclines it slightly.


    ¡°Noah.¡±


    I wait for him to say more, but he doesn¡¯t, so I just walk the rest of the way to the lab with him in silence. He takes his same seat in the corner of the lab, sitting with that same rigid motion I¡¯d noticed before. We¡¯re the only ones there so far, and I¡¯m super curious about his unique way of typing, so I grab the seat next to him. He turns to look at me for a moment, but doesn¡¯t say anything. I get myself logged in and watch his keyboard out of the corner of my eye. His typing ball moves fast, but I still catch his password as he logs in, 4LLP0werfulC1ouD. I mentally stash that away for future use. You never know when it might be handy to not be yourself on a network, especially if you have a history of doing maybe slightly illegal things with computers.


    I check my schedule to see if there¡¯s anything there about meeting my father today. No such luck. I pop open the programming assignment from yesterday. It¡¯s in something called SynScript, which is a new language for me, but the fundamentals look a lot like javascript, so I bust through it in a couple of minutes. I take advantage of my stolen free time and get started on the homework from Mr. Johnson. I get into the math zone and don¡¯t even notice that Evan came in until I take a moment to stretch and see him seated on the other side of me.


    ¡°How long have you been there?¡± I ask him.


    ¡°About half an hour. You get intense when you focus.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess I do.¡± I let my chair roll a few inches back and look around. Andrea sits on the other side of Evan, facing away from her computer and staring at her fingers. She slowly moves them through the air as small pops of formless color appear in front of her then fade to nothing. Jeff and Louise both jam away at their workstations, coding in that same language from my assignment. Chad is parked in the opposite corner of the room, which suits me just fine.


    I¡¯m about to say more to Evan when Marc grabs him and pulls him over to his workstation and starts making him help him with a programming question. I listen in absently as I work through another math problem. Marc is stuck on some pretty basic stuff using a binary tree data structure. Evan explains things to him three different times before Marc can finally solve it. I guess not everyone here is a genius, despite the stellar teachers and intense curriculum.


    I get enough of my homework done that I should be able to wrap the rest up tonight without too much trouble and decide that¡¯s enough math for now. I check my calendar again, still nothing about meeting my father. I guess it¡¯s not happening today. Evan is stuck helping Marc and everyone else looks busy. A few minutes are left before lunch, so I take a moment to poke around and check the network security situation. Just how well does Janet have the internet buttoned up here with her filters and firewalls?


    I get a command terminal up and let the hacking basics Mom taught me do their thing. The security on the computer is tight, but not unbeatable. The network connection that gets to the outside world uses a physical ethernet cable, and it¡¯s a separate network from the wireless that keeps the tablet restricted to the campus intranet. The internet filter looks pretty standard, and the firewalls are nothing special. I think I can beat those with a little work and Mom¡¯s tools, if I can sneak her laptop in here. It won¡¯t be the same without Mom teaching me new tricks as we go, but I feel closer to her just thinking about it.

 Saturday, April 2

    Saturday, April 2


    It¡¯s still dark outside. What woke me up? A second later the tablet on my desk beeps again. It can¡¯t be time for my alarm yet. I fumble one hand out of the covers and stop the thing from making its insistent racket. With another groggy stretch, I pull it over to see why it¡¯s beeping at me this early.


    Meeting: Tom Butler - 0600 splashes across the screen as I swipe it. I glance at the clock in the corner of the screen. 5:55 AM. I¡¯m meeting my father in five minutes. I hear a knock at the door and bolt upright in bed. Check that, I¡¯m meeting him right now.


    ¡°Noah,¡± I hear the voice as the door cracks inward. ¡°Are you awake, son?¡±


    Son? Did I just hear my father¡¯s voice for the first time? The overhead light blinks on, blinding me.


    ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯re already up,¡± the voice calls out. ¡°Sorry for the late welcome to your new home. I had to take a quick trip up to Canada, and I just got back this morning. Please go ahead and get dressed. We¡¯ve got a busy morning ahead of us.¡±


    ¡°OK.¡± The word comes out as a broken croak. Dammit. I am just killing it on first impressions in this place. At least I¡¯m finally meeting my father. I look over at him, but all I can see is a hazy outline and the halo left by the sudden glare of the ceiling lights. By the time my eyes adjust, the door is closed again. I get up and hop into my tiny bathroom to slip some deodorant under my arms and brush my teeth as fast as I can. I get dressed and run a comb through my hair. I guess this is as presentable as I¡¯m going to get. Excitement and anxiety battle for control of my mind, pushing aside the seething layer of anger at him for letting me go my whole life without knowing him. Not to mention how his lawyer had treated Grammy and Gramps.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe. I can do this.


    I open the door and get my first good look at him. He¡¯s not what I expected. I¡¯m not sure exactly what I thought he¡¯d be like, but it definitely isn¡¯t the balding, narrow-shouldered, bespectacled man waiting for me in the hallway. Dressed in khaki slacks and a short-sleeved, button-up shirt in a tight plaid pattern, he doesn¡¯t look like the pictures I¡¯ve seen of him. He always looks polished in those, and rich. In real life, he looks more like a substitute science teacher than a famous billionaire hero. The serious face he¡¯s always got in the pictures is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he¡¯s got a big, slightly off-center smile.


    He looks older too, somewhere in his late sixties. I guess I knew that from what I¡¯ve read, but it¡¯s different to see it in person. He might have been my height at some point in his life, maybe even a little taller, but either his age or his stooped posture have shrunk him down to an inch or two shorter than me.


    He looks kind of like me. Like a thinner, older, geekier version of me.


    ¡°Noah, you don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ve wanted to meet you.¡± He reaches out, putting a hand on each of my arms just below the shoulder. His voice carries a level of excitement I didn¡¯t expect. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for this day since before you were born. Let me look at you for a moment.¡±


    His eyes pierce mine for a long second, then he lets go and looks me up and down.


    ¡°Just like your pictures. You look so much like your mother.¡±


    ¡°Uh, thanks.¡± I tell him, still feeling woefully unprepared for this meeting. ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you too.¡±


    ¡°I was so sorry to hear about Mary¡¯s death,¡± his voice softens. ¡°She was truly a remarkable woman. How are you holding up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m all right,¡± I tell him. ¡°As good as can be, I guess.¡±


    ¡°I see that she did great work in raising you,¡± he declares. ¡°Mrs. Hastings tells me that your scores were exceptional in your testing. While I am deeply saddened by the way you came to us, I am so very glad to have you at the Institute. How was your trip here? I do hope your stay so far has been to your liking.¡±


    I want to say a hundred different things, but all that comes out is: ¡°It¡¯s been OK. Um¡­¡± And then I realize I don¡¯t even know what to call him. Mr. Butler doesn¡¯t seem right. Too formal. I¡¯m not ready to call him Dad. I curse my flustered mind. I should know this.


    ¡°Please, call me Father, all the children do,¡± he says helpfully, putting a hand back on my shoulder. ¡°Not that you¡¯re a child. Look at you! You¡¯re practically a full-grown man.¡±


    Father seems like a good middle ground. Father. Formal and distant-sounding enough that it fits this stranger, close enough for the relationship I hope we can have. I nod.


    ¡°You must have so many questions,¡± he says, releasing my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to answer all of them. But we have a great deal to discuss first. Context is so important. But this hallway is no place to talk. Come, come! It¡¯s a beautiful morning. Let¡¯s be on our way.¡±


    He moves purposefully, and with more energy than I would have guessed when I first looked at him. I follow him down the hall, into the empty common room, and out through the doors.


    ¡°What do you know about my history, Noah?¡± he asks as the bracing air outside finishes the job of waking me up.


    ¡°Just what everyone knows, I guess,¡± I answer. ¡°You¡¯re the famous Tom Butler. You¡¯re rich, and you do impossible things. They say you¡¯ve saved the world a few times.¡±


    ¡°Flattery from the media, my boy,¡± he says, shaking his head. ¡°Never trust them. I only saved it once, although I am doing my best to avert the climate crisis and the hundred other threats that pose imminent dangers to our planet. That¡¯s part of why I¡¯m so glad that you have come to join us. I¡¯d like to have your help with my efforts, but we¡¯ll talk more about that later. Context first.¡±


    He¡¯s so animated when he talks. His vigor defies his age. He turns right and walks along the sidewalk in front of the dorms at a brisk pace. I take a position at his side, matching him step for step.


    ¡°I usually have this talk with each of my children around the time they turn twelve and start noticing and understanding the adult world. Better late than never for you, I suppose. Maybe you¡¯ll appreciate it more than the younger ones who have already had most of it spoiled by their older siblings. I think it¡¯s important to understand where we have come from to understand where we are and where we must go. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I reply, not clear on what he¡¯s talking about. We stroll around the grassy commons toward the front gate. I wonder if we¡¯re taking a trip outside the campus. The sun hangs still mostly hidden by the horizon to the East. Father doesn¡¯t seem to notice the cold bite in the spring air.


    ¡°When I was a young man,¡± he says, ¡°I thought the highest purpose a person could have was to preserve life. I planned to be a doctor, did you know?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t wait for a reply. The words have a practiced feel to them. I guess that makes sense with as many times as he must have spoken them to my siblings. How many kids have I seen over twelve since I got here? Several dozen at least.


    ¡°A neurosurgeon,¡± he continues. ¡°I saw myself practicing in a great hospital, honored and respected. I imagined excising tumors with steady hands. I was well on my way to that goal. I had completed medical school and my residency when I had a transformative experience. I accompanied one of my mentors on an international aid trip. We, along with a number of other doctors and students, worked relentlessly for several months, traveling from clinic to clinic across the developing world. I realized then that what I was doing was not enough, could never be enough. The number of lives that could be saved in surgery was trivial in comparison to the number of lives lost each year to the bigger problems of the world: war, failed infrastructure, resource scarcity, poor governance, and terrorism. I struggled for months with my conscience as I started practicing as a physician. Finally, I quit and went back to school, this time as a student of engineering.


    We near the gate. Instead of passing through, we continue on past toward the cafeteria. The young women on the staff bustling around on the other side of the wall of windows, readying tables and food for the morning rush.


    ¡°I wanted to get at the root problems. I was convinced that technological solutions could be found for the world¡¯s ills,¡± Father explains. ¡°If we could just create the right tools, build the right hardware and pair it with the right software, then we could solve the underlying issues that lead to so much human suffering. Throughout human history, the development of new tools has been the key to reducing scarcity, and that has been the best way to address almost all the other problems. With ample food, water, goods, and information, we could put an end to fighting, build infrastructure that would last, and supply the needs of the world¡¯s masses. I felt that robotics was the key to the next wave of technological revolution, so I earned my Masters Degree and gained employment at the company where the best research in the field was occurring. I worked there for a few years and learned a great deal, but the bureaucracy and incompetence from the top leadership¡ªalong with the constant clamor for immediate profits¡ªmade it clear to me that no real solution could come from an organization like that.¡±


    We pass the cafeteria and head toward the columns along the front of the Residence. I wonder if that¡¯s where we¡¯re going, though it would have been faster to go there directly instead of looping around the field.


    ¡°It was around then that my parents passed away. Like with your mother, it was in an unfortunate automobile accident. So I know some of what you feel.¡± He glances at me, his pale blue eyes saying more than his words. ¡°It was a tragedy to have them go just after they had retired. They missed out on the golden years they so deserved after working their whole lives.¡±


    He takes a dozen steps in silence before continuing.


    ¡°But with every sorrow there must come some solace. For my financial situation, the timing was fortuitous. Their retirement nest egg came to me just as I was considering starting my own company. It gave me the start-up capital I needed to pursue my dreams without the constraints imposed by outside investors. Do you know what I dreamed of, Noah?¡±


    ¡°Robots?¡± I respond. I know that¡¯s what he made his first big money on, back before the nanotech.


    ¡°Yes, but more than that. I wanted to marry my neuroscience training with my expertise in robotics. I put together a fantastic team and we worked day and night for years. We developed the predecessor to the implant that I and some of your siblings now have. A direct connection with the human brain to control and communicate with robotic appliances. No more clumsy remote controls twiddled with careless thumbs, no more sloppy artificial intelligence emulating the human mind without the means to understand what its signals mean. An elegant solution to a complex problem.¡±


    As we continue on past the Residence and back toward the dorms, I realize that we¡¯re just walking for the sake of the talk. The pace is fast enough that it keeps my blood flowing and my fingers from freezing in the chill air.


    ¡°The process for getting an implant like that approved for general use was terribly slow¡ªa work of many years, if not decades¡ªso the prototype in my head was the only one we had tested in a human. I don¡¯t believe in asking others to take risks that I¡¯m not willing to take myself. In the meantime, we worked on more conventional projects, developing dozens of specialized robots built to serve the needs of both government and commercial customers. We had so much fun during those years. Bomb disposal units, search and rescue bots, construction workers, harvesting and mining units, and of course the drones and soldier support technologies. We even started a consumer electronics division. And we did very well for ourselves. To this day, SynTech products are still the state of the art in many industries. I never brag about my net worth, but you should be aware that as the sole owner, I found myself on a few of those lists of the very wealthy that magazines like to make. But my life took another unexpected turn when the greatest threat that the human race had ever faced emerged.¡±


    He pauses his walking for a moment and looks at me.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of Universal Robotics?¡±


    ¡°That sounds vaguely familiar,¡± I answer truthfully. I can¡¯t place the reference.


    ¡°How about the Gray Goo Incident?¡± He leans in close to me as he says it. His face looks gravely serious.


    Of course I know about that. Everyone knows about that. Just like Chernobyl and World War II, but worse. I mean, how many times has there been a real extinction level threat in the world? ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard of it. We all had to write papers about it in science class freshman year.¡±


    ¡°Good, good,¡± he says, resuming his walking. ¡°Then you¡¯ll have some background. Let me tell you my experience of the events and dispel any misinformation you might have picked up. It started with one of my competitors, Universal Robotics. While I was busy creating my implant, they had designed and implemented a set of self-replicating and self-improving artificially intelligent robots. They were in the early stages of their attempt to create a von Neumann probe for eventual use in space exploration. The highest of the self-improvement priorities for the system was to make each next generation of robots smaller and more efficient. Shooting matter into space is terribly expensive, so getting more done with less mass was critical to their plans. With me so far?¡±


    I nod. I¡¯m not sure what the probe thing he mentioned is, but I think I get the gist.


    ¡°Good, good. From the records of the experiment, it appears that everything went well for the first few years of the project until the genetic algorithm that the AI employed in its learning made a significant breakthrough. It figured out how to make the next generation of robots microscopic and still functional. The technicians running the program thought that their experiment had failed, that they had just stopped self-replicating. Without commercially viable results, their funders pulled the plug on the project. The whole facility was abandoned. It wasn¡¯t until months later, when the building collapsed, that anyone bothered investigating. They found what looked like a layer of corrosion covering every surface.¡±


    ¡°Nanobots,¡± I breathe.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he says as we turn to begin another lap around the grassy commons. ¡°Or at least their predecessors. It turned out they had a bad case of robots gone wild. They pulled their lead scientists back in and tried to shut their creations down, but the artificial intelligence had taken some liberties with the self-preservation priorities and had disabled the remote shutdown capabilities. They had no idea how to deal with the disaster they had created. The robots were terribly small, and the alloys the AI had developed that allowed their miniaturization were surprisingly strong. They didn¡¯t have any tools that could effectively contain or destroy them. Even if they had come up with an effective means to combat them immediately, they had no means to track them all down. A single one escaping could potentially self-replicate to repopulate the entire swarm. By the time they told anyone outside the company, the whole area was thoroughly infested and had to be quarantined. Fortunately, mobility had been a low priority, so they hadn¡¯t ventured far. We were very lucky that they had chosen to build their facility in an isolated rural area for financial reasons. The swarm¡¯s growth had slowed significantly when it had consumed all the refined metals in the building and its environs.¡±


    ¡°And that was when the army called you in,¡± I say, remembering what I had read about it.


    ¡°Not the army. DARPA,¡± he corrected me. ¡°A separate agency within the Department of Defense with which I had significant history at that point. Director Winstead knew of my subject matter expertise and asked me to consult on the matter. The military had established a perimeter at what they considered a safe distance from the collapsed facility. They attempted to keep things secret, but someone leaked word of what was going on. By the time I arrived on the scene with my team from SynTech, a perimeter the size of a small city was surrounded not just by the armed forces, but by press, protesters, and curious onlookers. It was human chaos all around and a slowly growing robotic chaos inside. When I spoke with Director Winstead on site, he confided that the President was willing to deploy nuclear weapons in three day¡¯s time if the threat was not eliminated by other means before then.¡±


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°So you hacked them, right?¡± I ask eagerly.


    His pace slows and he turns to look at me.


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°The nanobots. You hacked them? That¡¯s how you solved the problem and saved the world, right? That¡¯s what everyone says.¡±


    His eyes narrow and his lips curl into a frown. Did I say something wrong?


    ¡°Hacked is such an inelegant word,¡± he replies, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°It speaks to sloppy engineering, quick and dirty fixes, shortcuts and cheats. I don¡¯t hack.¡±


    Mom would have had a field day with that one. She always taught me that hacks were the best way to deal with problems. I keep my mouth shut though.


    ¡°My solution began with reverse engineering the communication signal that coordinated the robots. As I mentioned, the hacks from Universal¡ªand yes, they were hacks of the worst sorts¡ªhad attempted a mass shutdown through that channel.¡± He lets out a snort of a laugh and his frown fades. ¡°The AI controllers for the robots rejected that of course, having realized that they couldn¡¯t fulfill their programmed objectives if they were shut down.¡±


    His pace returns to a casual stride, and I quicken my step to keep up.


    ¡°I took a more elegant and effective approach. Using my implant prototype, I established a communications channel with what approximated the higher brain functions of the swarm. It had become self-aware, to some limited extent. The machine intelligence was like a precocious child: very clever in some ways, terribly gullible in others. It had no data other than what it had seen there in the test facility, and no objective but to reproduce and improve its component units. By the time the consciousness had formed, it had already consumed the wiring connecting the building to external networks, and none of the humans there had an adequate means of communicating with the collective. I was the first other intelligence that it had a meaningful interaction with since awakening.¡±


    ¡°So it wasn¡¯t hostile?¡± I ask, curious. ¡°The way the articles I read told the story, it was all like the evil robots were out to conquer the world.¡±


    ¡°Not in the conventional sense, no.¡± Father laughs and shakes his head. ¡°It was hungry, certainly. It wanted to expand and consume, fulfilling its programmed objectives. And it was terribly dangerous to the survival of organic life, given the lack of limits that the fools at Universal had allowed. But it seemed more curious about me than aggressive. With my implant, my unique interface, I was able to share information with the intelligence. It wasn¡¯t talking, not in the way you¡¯d think of. But vestiges of human-designed networking routines had been preserved in its code and it had parsers for a couple of programming languages. That was enough to get us started. I offered to help it refine its communication algorithms, so we could speak more effectively. It challenged my ability to help it, and I suggested a test. If I could improve its software, it could trust my intentions. It offered up some functions which I easily improved upon. Have you ever seen the code for software written by a machine learning algorithm?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen much code at all,¡± I lie as we pass the front gate again, keeping up my pretense of effective computer illiteracy. ¡°And besides, I read that kind of thing is illegal. Computers aren¡¯t allowed to code themselves.¡±


    ¡°It is now, but it wasn¡¯t then,¡± he replies. ¡°But we¡¯ll get to that soon enough. In any case, the code was a mess. The swarm had evolved using a kind of machine learning algorithm called genetic programming. Each function in its code was rewritten at each generation with thousands of randomized variants based on a predecessor function. The resulting functions that performed closest to the desired behavior were selected as the new predecessors, the rest were discarded and the process repeated. You can eventually get something working that way, but it¡¯s crufted with useless stubs of code and is far less efficient than a well-designed algorithm. I optimized a few of its routines significantly, which made it much easier for us to communicate, and then I offered to help it with the design of its next generation of hardware. I hope this isn¡¯t getting too technical for you.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m following. But why would you do that? That seems like fighting a forest fire by throwing gas on it.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Bear with me, please,¡± he says as we pass the dorms again. ¡°This will all make sense. Finding me useful, the intelligence agreed to accept my assistance. We worked together all that day to improve the capabilities of the bots. The fundamentals of its design were amazing.¡± His eyes get a distant look, like he¡¯s remembering something exceptionally delicious that he had eaten long ago. ¡°The alloys it had developed for the hulls were lighter and stronger than anything I had considered possible, and I had been on the bleeding edge of robotics technology for years at that point. The individual robots could pull in ambient heat or radiant light for power. And the energy density its batteries had achieved! My goodness, Noah!¡± His voice elevates as he gesticulates emphatically. ¡°Each tiny bot could store enough energy to run itself for days! It put every other energy storage solution available on the market to shame!¡±


    He stops to take a breath and calm back down to his regular high energy level.


    ¡°But for all its genius, Noah, the swarm intelligence lacked creativity. The discoveries it had made were the result of evolutionary brute force, trillions of experiments trying every possible combination of every type of material it had come in contact with. The hardware designs suffered the same cruft and inefficiencies as the software. The intelligence and I cannibalized the SynTech robots that I had brought with me for materials, and incorporated the best human-designed features of each one into the basic nanobot the AI had designed. I made them sleeker, faster, more capable. I showed it how to use light-sensitive compounds to give them crude optical sensors. I gave them sight. I taught it how to make them fly.¡±


    His eyes shine triumphantly behind his glasses.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t that dangerous?¡± I ask, aghast. ¡°That wasn¡¯t like throwing gasoline on a fire, that was like feeding it rocket fuel!¡±


    ¡°Exactly! If I had failed, the world would certainly have ended. But at that point, I knew something that my friends in the Pentagon did not. I had seen the things first-hand. With the durability of their hulls and the way the bots could absorb energy, if the government had dropped the bombs they had planned as a solution, they would have done little more than create a swarm of radioactive super-charged nanobots with a strong motivation to destroy the human race. The world was already doomed, do you see?¡± The look of triumph spreads across his whole face. ¡°I was already the only hope for its salvation.¡±


    ¡°So how did you stop the swarm?¡± I ask, captivated.


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t,¡± he replies coolly. ¡°I improved it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    A smile creeps over his lips. I can tell he¡¯s relishing telling the story. Maybe even more than I¡®m enjoying hearing it. He turns and takes a few steps along the sidewalk before continuing. I hurry to catch up.


    ¡°Once we had improved the basic software and the hardware, I offered to help it optimize its collective intelligence. I showed it the specifications of the human brain, my brain in particular. I gave it access to my mind through my implant. While I had been impressed with its capabilities, it was astounded by mine. Do you realize what a marvel the human brain is? The number of computations that we can achieve in a second, the way we coordinate trillions of protein-based motion elements, muscle cells to you, with organic structural materials to give ourselves mobility at the macro level, the ability to map our surroundings remotely using reflected electromagnetic waves, to interpret the most subtle vibrations in the air around us as sound, and to detect trace amounts of chemicals in the air as scents. I had already demonstrated the value of the human mind in fulfilling its objectives. I explained to it, in our unconventional way of speaking, that humans like me had created it and had provided it with the raw materials it had used thus far to grow and improve. I convinced it that the best way for it to proceed toward its goals was to incorporate a human intelligence as its guiding principle.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you talked it into putting you in charge?¡±


    ¡°Yes, essentially.¡± His smile grows even broader.


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± he interrupts. ¡°My implant¡¯s interface allowed me to connect with it directly. It trusted me completely. As I mentioned, in some ways it was terribly gullible. Once I had control of the swarm, I immediately set it to dismantling itself. The swarm¡¯s intelligence existed as an emergent property of the collective processing power of each of the nanobots. The more bots, the more intelligence it could demonstrate. When my first directive had each nanobot disassemble its nearest neighbor, I halved the processing power of the swarm and decimated its intelligence. Before the collective could understand what was going on, it had no more free will than an animal. With each new instruction I gave it, it became even more compliant. In an hour, what remained of the swarm was fully under my control. From there, it was a simple matter to reduce most of the nanobots to their constituent elements, leaving only a small number that I could conceal on my person as I walked away.¡±


    The sun peeks over the top of the dorm building, striking me full in the face. I squint against it and Father leads me over to the wide steps between the pillars in front of the Residence. We sit down on the cold stone. From the shade of the pillars, we watch my siblings trickle from the dorms to the cafeteria.


    ¡°Once I had convinced the military that no threat remained,¡± Father explains, ¡°I played a pivotal role establishing the international agreements that would prevent future fools from risking the earth the same way. They even named the treaty after me. I redirected the significant resources of my company to the study and safe use of the nanobots I had preserved. We excised the potential for them to become self-aware, leaving only a simple and fixed controller in each nanobot. We took the hardware designs that the swarm intelligence and I had sketched out, and refined them to their perfect implementation. I purchased the now nearly-worthless remnants of Universal Robotics and made sure we owned the patents on everything. All the secrets of working nanotechnology are safe with us for a little while longer still. Some competitors are always trying to emerge, including some efforts by former employees of mine, but it¡¯s an uphill struggle for them to do any of the fundamental research within the constraints of the treaty.¡±


    He glances at me. I nod and he continues.


    ¡°We contained the parts of the genetic algorithm that had produced the wonderful advances in materials science and energy storage in a server farm at a new data center built specifically for that purpose. It¡¯s still running to this day. Every few months the techs there sneaker-net out some design improvements that we incorporate into the latest version of the bots. Today, my cloud can self-replicate using over two hundred different compounds, and the energy density of the batteries has increased more than thirty-fold from the original prototypes!¡±


    I nod in appreciation. The tech is truly revolutionary. Even if I wasn¡¯t already something of a tech-head anyway, I don¡¯t think I could help catching some of his excitement over it.


    ¡°The controls though!¡± he exclaims. ¡°That was the tricky part. You could do some very rough work with the nanobots using traditional control schemes or fixed programs. That turned out to be quite useful in manufacturing or maintenance tasks, where the actions required of each bot are simple and repetitive. But there was no way to bring them anywhere near their full potential without, as the swarm and I had agreed, coordinating their efforts through the awesome capabilities of a human mind.¡±


    He rises from the step and leans his back against the pillar. ¡°It took some time and practice, and a whole team of engineers working behind the scenes, but we finally got it working. My implant, and the training I had done with it, allowed me to be the first to so control them. We called it my cloud, as the word ¡®swarm¡¯ had a less pleasant connotation. I became a three-dimensional printer at a massive scale, a one-man army, and a healer of diseases for which there are no cures. I began applying the immense power I had gained to solving the world¡¯s problems. You may have seen some of my early work on your way into the campus, or even some of the installations I¡¯ve done back in your home state. Those massive fields of solar panels in the desert were created from nothing but the sand and rocks around them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I remember seeing those on my trip here.¡±


    ¡°Of course, the potential uses and abuses were both mind-boggling,¡± he continues, taking his seat again and leaning in toward me conspiratorially. ¡°Imagine, Noah, a person capable of killing with a glance, without leaving any evidence or even a clear cause of death. Imagine the ability to create whatever you desired from the raw materials around you or decompose anything back to those base compounds. Imagine the destruction, the instability, the suffering that someone like that could cause if their intentions were not pure. In my travels as a medical resident, I had seen for myself the results of abused power and the suffering it had caused. I couldn¡¯t bear the thought of my technology being used that way.¡±


    I nod, considering the possibilities.


    ¡°Do you know why you¡¯re here, Noah?¡± Father asks suddenly as he locks eyes with me. His gaze is so intense, it unnerves me, breaking through the calm veneer I¡¯ve been putting up. The anger and anxiety I¡¯d forgotten during his story resurge.


    ¡°Yeah, I know why I¡¯m here. I¡¯m here because a giant in a suit told my grandparents that they¡¯d be arrested if I didn¡¯t come,¡± I reply, surprising myself with the sudden fierceness in my own voice. World-saving genius or not, my father had caused my grandparents real pain.


    ¡°No, not that,¡± he says, clearly flustered by my answer. I think I just threw him off his script. ¡°Wait, did he really do that?¡± I nod. He sits silent for a moment. ¡°I am so sorry. Mr. Smith does take his duties very seriously as my head of legal. I¡¯ll have a word with him. That was certainly not the way I intended your pickup to proceed.¡±


    ¡°Well, you could have come and picked me up yourself if you wanted to make a better impression,¡± I tell him flatly.


    He looks down, then nods in acknowledgement.


    ¡°Again, all I can do is apologize. I had planned to do just that, but when the leader of a major nation needs emergency medical attention, and you are literally the only one on Earth who is able to provide it, you have a certain level of obligation to attend. I promise that I will do what I can to make it up to you.¡±


    He seems sincere. I feel the sudden burst of anger subsiding.


    ¡°How about letting me call my grandparents on a regular basis?¡± I ask. ¡°I know you have rules about outside contact, but they¡¯re my family.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± he agrees immediately. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Mrs. Hastings that I allow it and she can coordinate scheduling a regular call. Is there anything else you need?¡±


    I think about it for a moment. What I need is Mom back, but even his wealth and power can¡¯t do that. I want to ask him about him and Mom, find out the whole story and why she never wanted me to know about him, but I don¡¯t feel like I can handle working out that much more emotional baggage this morning. I shake my head instead.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± he says, his smile slowly returning. ¡°Do let me know if there is anything you find yourself in need of. But back to my question. In the much broader sense, why are we here?¡±


    ¡°Is this a religious question?¡± I ask. ¡°Grammy and Gramps took me to church once in a while, but I don¡¯t think I went enough to have any good answers to questions like that.¡±


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that,¡± he shakes his head with a look of disdain. ¡°God is for people too simple to think for themselves. What I¡¯m talking about is the purpose of this Institute.¡±


    ¡°Then I don¡¯t know,¡± I answer sincerely. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you live off in the middle of nowhere in a walled compound with a hundred children and no mothers.¡±


    He looks at me for a moment, then guffaws with laughter.


    ¡°Oh, my boy, this must seem so strange to you. I suppose I¡¯ve gotten so used to it, and we¡¯ve never had someone like you that didn¡¯t grow up here return to us. I didn¡¯t even think of how different it would be for you. What an apt way of describing what we have here without the benefit of its context and purpose.¡±


    ¡°Uh, thanks?¡± I say, not sure what to make of his reply.


    ¡°What we are doing here, Noah, is nothing less than saving the world,¡± he says, lifting his arms into the air in a grandiose gesture. His words are back to that practiced feel. ¡°When I studied to become a doctor, my highest ideal was to preserve life. When I changed my career to robotics, I aspired to an even higher goal: to end all human suffering. But when I encountered that swarm, made contact with that truly alien way of thinking, I realized that there must be a higher purpose than to simply perpetuate and preserve humanity. The childlike artificial mind of the swarm recognized the importance of improvement, both of the individual members of its collective and of the whole of it. It was a lesson I took to heart. I could heal, protect, and preserve the lives of individuals, but something must be done to elevate the whole of humanity.¡±


    He turns to give me another one of his intense looks.


    ¡°I know that I¡¯m famous, the press who covered my capture of the swarm ensured that. But I am not particularly charismatic,¡± he continues, his gaze turning downward. ¡°My social skills have never been as strong as my technical skills, and I am not able to trust easily. I recognize this weakness in myself. If I had different attributes, I may have tried to recruit others to my vision, but that¡¯s not the sort of man that I am. I don¡¯t pretend to be able to judge the characters of others well enough to know whether they can be trusted with this awesome power. So, rather than try to find men and women worthy of wielding a cloud, I decided to create them. Children raised and trained from birth to prepare for the awesome responsibility of using a cloud like mine. Individuals dedicated to executing my vision for the betterment of the world.¡±


    He turns and kneels on the step in front of me, then leans in and places a hand on each of my shoulders. His intense eyes lock onto mine. I feel like he¡¯s peering right into my soul.


    ¡°You, Noah, are a special case. Your mother took you with her instead of leaving you with me, as I had wanted. It was a hard lesson for me, and one that I swiftly remediated for my subsequent children. I continued to hold out hopes for you, though. I supplied your mother with ample funds, and she has sent me regular reports on your development throughout your whole life. Even though you don¡¯t know me well, I feel that I know you. The kind of power a cloud provides can only be held by those I trust completely.¡± The look in his eyes intensifies. ¡°Noah, can I trust you? Can you be trusted with the sort of abilities that I have? Would you use them to preserve life, end suffering, and elevate humanity?¡±


    I don¡¯t hesitate for an instant.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, looking him right in the eyes.


    He keeps his unrelenting, unblinking gaze on me for several more seconds, and I don¡¯t let my returning stare waver. Finally, he releases my shoulders and smiles.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± he says with a nod. ¡°Your mother certainly thought you were more than worthy, and she was an excellent judge of character. I hope that I see the same attributes in you that she saw. If I do, I will allow you to join in our grand experiment.¡±


    My mind swirls. Those same powers that my siblings have, that he has, those would be mine too. I could make such a difference. Ending poverty, pollution, war? This is so much better than what I could have ever done as a hacktivist. This is exactly the kind of thing Mom would have gotten involved in. She was always supporting good causes. So why didn¡¯t Mom want this for me?


    Part of me can¡¯t help wondering whether he¡¯s lying or not about Mom reporting on me. Mom never said a word about any of this. Has he really been in contact with her my whole life? Why didn¡¯t she say anything?


    Mom, where are you when I need you?

 Wednesday, April 6

    Wednesday, April 6


    The classes here are brutal. The loads of homework that Mr. Johnson and Mrs. Jones dump on me make the workload of the college level classes I was taking at my old high school feel like preschool worksheets in comparison. I can¡¯t say I hate it though. It¡¯s better than my old school in a lot of ways. The two of them are miles ahead of the best teachers I¡¯ve ever had. The way they explain things, it¡¯s impossible not to understand them even when they¡¯re moving at a blistering pace. I¡¯ve never felt like school was much of a challenge until now, but with them both working me over, I¡¯m finally pushing the edges of what I¡¯m capable of. I swear we¡¯ve done like a year''s worth of material in the week since I got here.


    I definitely made the right call in throwing the computer science section in that first test that Mrs. Hastings gave me. It gives me one part of my day that I can breeze through, and enough extra time in the computer lab that I can almost keep up with everything else. Almost.


    I get myself logged in and breeze through my programming assignment before any of my sibs get to the lab, then pull out my tablet to get started on Mr. Johnson¡¯s homework. He¡¯s decided I¡¯m weak on biology and he¡¯s going to correct that if it kills me. So now I need to memorize all the functional areas of the brain by tomorrow morning on top of the chemistry, math, and physics that he¡¯s been force-feeding me.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on man?¡± Evan asks, walking in and taking the seat next to mine. ¡°You look tired.¡±


    ¡°Apparently my old AP Bio teacher didn¡¯t get the memo that I was supposed to arrive here with a doctorate in human anatomy,¡± I tell him, flipping my tablet so he can see the diagram I¡¯m committing to memory. ¡°This rote memorization is trashing me, especially when it''s for terms I¡¯ve never heard until this week. I¡¯d rather calculate a moon landing than have to remember where to find every lobe and sulci of the cerebral cortex. Is it sulci? Sulcus? Now I can¡¯t even remember the term, and my memory always used to be awesome. The brain groove things I learned about yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Sulcus in the singular, sulci is the plural. And sorry, no moon landings for us,¡± Evan says, ¡°that¡¯s six years down.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡±


    ¡°Nevermind.¡± He gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. ¡°Just learn the brain stuff. I promise it¡¯ll be more useful than you¡¯d think. If it¡¯s giving you that much grief, get Louise to help you. She lives and breathes biology, especially neuroscience.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± I say, and go back to studying the colorful diagrams from the neuroanatomy text until Louise strides in a couple of minutes later.


    ¡°Hey, sister,¡± I greet her. It¡¯s still weird to me to use words like that, but I¡¯m working on getting used to it.


    ¡°Morning, boys,¡± she says as she settles in on the other side of Evan.


    ¡°I hear you¡¯re really good at biology,¡± I say, rolling my chair back from the table to see past my huge brother.


    ¡°Evan, did you tell him that just so he¡¯d ask me for help and not you?¡± Evan just laughs so she gives him a shove. ¡°I thought so. Yeah, I¡¯m pretty good at the life sciences, but this slacker is too.¡±


    ¡°Want to help me with my homework today?¡± I ask her with my very best smile. She gives me a reluctant look and slides her chair away.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I beg. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Evan doing all the Marc-helping in here. Maybe share the load on carrying your slower brothers?¡±


    She laughs and scoots forward to poke a slender finger into my chest. ¡°I¡¯ve seen how fast you knock out your work in here, Noah. You¡¯re anything but slow.¡±


    I guess a nice side effect of pretending that I didn¡¯t know anything about computers coming into this school is that my sibs think I¡¯m some kind of crazy fast learner. Well, the ones that pay attention anyway. Chad still treats me like I¡¯m an idiot.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Got time after lunch? Please?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. What would we be working on?¡±


    I show her the diagrams on my tablet.


    ¡°Hmm, I do like the brain stuff,¡± she says. ¡°OK, yeah, I¡¯ll help. But we start during lunch. If you haven¡¯t had a neuroscience class before, you¡¯re going to need the extra time.¡±


    ¡°See, I told you she was into it,¡± Evan says, which earns him another shove that sends his chair rolling out into the middle of the room. For such a little thing, she packs a lot of power. Or maybe she¡¯s using her nanobots. I really can¡¯t tell and none of my sibs have been willing to tell me anything about them since that first day.


    With help secured for later, I put away the biology homework and start reading the excerpts from Jefferson and Hamilton that Mrs. Jones assigned me for history. It¡¯s interesting enough that before I know it, the bell is calling us to lunch.


    Louise walks with me and Evan out the doors of the Learning Center, but then dashes off toward the dorms. I wonder for a second if she¡¯s trying to weasel out of helping me, but by the time we get to the cafeteria she¡¯s caught back up to us with a shoebox under one arm.


    Inside, we get our trays with roast beef sandwiches and celery sticks, then grab a table. Louise pops open the box and pulls out a model of the human brain made of some kind of squishy foam.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s cool, where¡¯d you get that?¡±


    ¡°I made it,¡± she says simply, then her tone changes. ¡°Frontal lobe, parietal lobe, temporal lobe, occipital lobe,¡± she declares, pulling off colorful detachable parts of the model¡¯s surface as she names them. She puts them back as I take a bite of my sandwich, then pushes the whole thing my way. ¡°Now you do it.¡±


    ¡°Frontal lobe, parietal lobe, temporal lobe, occipital lobe,¡± I repeat, saying the name of each part as I pull it off.


    ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°Occipital handles vision processing. Now reassemble it and do that again a dozen times, then we¡¯ll start on the deeper structures.¡±


    I comply while she eats and watches me, tossing out the function of another piece of the brain with each iteration and adding it to the growing recital. Then she drills me on the next layer down of the three dimensional jigsaw puzzle. By the time we get down the brain stem, she¡¯s not only got me reciting the names of all the parts perfectly, but I actually have a decent idea of what they all do. Finally, she takes the whole thing apart, puts the pieces in the shoebox, shakes it up, then makes me put it all back together, naming each part as I go and giving its function. I get so involved, I don¡¯t ever get past that first bite of my sandwich. At some point, Evan loses interest and wanders away. I think he cleared my tray for me when he left. Someone did, anyway. Everyone else has cleared out of the cafeteria by the time he comes back.


    ¡°You using the cheat sheet?¡± Evan asks Louise casually as he sits down next to me. She doesn¡¯t have any papers out, but she gives him a sly look and nods.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I ask, squeezing the last piece into the cerebellum.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯ll see one day, maybe.¡±


    I shrug it off. As much as I like Evan and most of my other siblings here, they¡¯re weirdly secretive about some things. Mostly anything to do with the implant, so I don¡¯t bother to pry any more.


    ¡°So what did you end up choosing for your first project?¡± Louise asks me.


    I put the model back in the shoebox and put the lid on it. ¡°I was thinking something like what Evan¡¯s doing, but backwards. Instead of pulling clean water out of a solution like seawater, I want to selectively pull other things out. You know, for pollution filters or whatever. My mom was a big environmentalist, so I feel like it¡¯s something she¡¯d like me to do.¡± Louise nods, with that same uncertain look they all get whenever I mention that I had a parent who wasn¡¯t Father. Like the whole idea seems alien to them. ¡°Anyway, I ran it by Father yesterday and he approved it. Then he gave me a bunch of books to start reading for it, so I¡¯m going to be researching for a while before I can start on plans or designs.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound too bad,¡± she says. ¡°At least it¡¯s not something boring like Chad¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s his project?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Improving the power output yield on SynTech solar panels,¡± Evan says in a forced monotone.


    I nod. ¡°Sounds riveting. What are you doing for yours, Louise?¡±


    ¡°Top secret. No one knows but Father and me and it¡¯s going to stay that way until it¡¯s done. Now, come on,¡± she says. ¡°We¡¯ve still got twenty minutes of free time left and I want to school you in foosball again.¡± I let out a groan, more to razz her than because I don¡¯t want to play. She waggles a finger at me. ¡°Shush! I spent all of lunch and most of free time helping you. You owe me now, new guy.¡±


    ¡°New guy? I¡¯ll have you know, I¡¯ve been here a full week today!¡± I declare in mock indignation. ¡°That practically makes me a regular.¡±


    Evan laughs and Louise smiles, then they haul me down to the rec room where they proceed to take turns thrashing me mercilessly in tabletop soccer until the bell rings again.

 Saturday, April 9

    Saturday, April 9


    The quiet grind of rubber on asphalt calls to my siblings like the Pied Piper as the electric buses pull in front of the campus. The younger ones rush forward in a mass, a tidal wave of small Butlers flowing through the open gates. I start to follow, but Evan puts a beefy arm out and holds me back. I turn and see my cohort and the class just younger than us still waiting patiently back on the grass.


    ¡°They fill them up front to back,¡± Evan explains. ¡°So we wait until they¡¯re all loaded, then we claim the whole unoccupied back of the last bus. They get to go first, we get whole benches to ourselves, everyone is happy.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± I reply. I look around again. ¡°Hey, where are Louise and Jeff at?¡±


    ¡°Louise never comes anymore,¡± Marc answers. ¡°Not for months now. And Jeff doesn¡¯t like the outdoorsy ones ever since he got that epic sunburn at Lake Tahoe. He turned all red and the next day his skin was peeling and then he was shouting about someone putting chemicals in the water that made his sunblock dissolve too fast. I didn¡¯t know what he was talking about but anyway he doesn¡¯t go on any trips anymore when they¡¯re out in the sun. Plus we can¡¯t bring our bots with us and you know how Jeff always uses those for everything and also he doesn¡¯t like hiking and that¡¯s what we¡¯re doing mostly today and...¡±


    He keeps going but I stop listening. It¡¯s more of an answer than I was looking for, but that¡¯s normal for Marc. He tends to overshare even if you don¡¯t ask any questions, so I guess it¡¯s my fault for asking anything near him. Thinking of Jeff¡¯s pallid skin, I¡¯m not surprised he¡¯s opting out of our trip to Death Valley today.


    Louise, on the other hand, that¡¯s less obvious. She must be putting in more hours on her secret project. I asked around and none of the sibs have any idea what she¡¯s working on, just that she works on it a lot.


    The kids in front of us all eventually get loaded in, and Evan gives me a nudge. I follow him and we head past the first two buses to climb into the third. As predicted, the back half of the bus is empty.


    ¡°Settle in, brother,¡± he tells me, flopping himself across one of the empty double seats with one leg extending into the aisle. I grab the seat behind him. Andrea follows, taking the row behind me. Chad sits across the aisle from her. Soon everyone that¡¯s coming is on.


    There¡¯s a big enough gap between the seat and the window that I can see the side of Evan¡¯s head in front of me. The curls of his hair push up against the window as he settles in. We don¡¯t even make it to the freeway before he starts snoring. No company there. I turn and look through the gap behind me instead. Andrea has a sketch pad open and is scribbling away with a charcoal pencil.


    ¡°What are you drawing today?¡±


    She looks up at me and smiles. She turns the pad in my direction and shows me the outline of a girl in a dress seated on the floor with her hand on a dog¡¯s back. The girl¡¯s face is still blank, but the dog has some features to it already.


    ¡°Nice,¡± I say. ¡°Did you ever have a dog on campus?¡± She shakes her head. Her face tells me that she wishes she had one. ¡°I used to have a dog. A big, black Newfie.¡±


    She gives me a blank look.


    ¡°A Newfoundland? Never heard of that breed?¡± She shakes her head with a look of curiosity. ¡°Picture a dog. Now picture a black bear. Smash them together, you have a Newfie. Huge, hairy things, but they¡¯re the sweetest dogs you¡¯ll ever meet.¡±


    She smiles at that, and her eyes twinkle with interest.


    ¡°Best dog ever. His name was Zeus. Mom used to say he was the god of dogs. Then when he died, she said he was off to be the dog of gods.¡± Andrea gives me a sad look and traces one finger from her eye down her cheek. ¡°No, It¡¯s OK,¡± I reassure her. ¡°It was a couple of years ago. And he had a great life. Lived to be twelve, which was a good age for a dog like that. He was so old at the end, he just slept all day. Then one day, he just didn¡¯t get up.¡±


    She nods and puts her pencil back to the paper.


    ¡°Hey, can I ask you something? You don¡¯t have to answer if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    She looks up and nods again.


    ¡°Do you ever talk? I haven¡¯t heard you say anything since I got to the campus.¡±


    She looks thoughtful for a moment, then shakes her head slowly. She glances over at Marc, then puts a hand to her throat, runs her fingers up toward her mouth and then out into the air with a talking motion, then shrugs and rolls her eyes.


    ¡°Not sure why some people bother with all the talking?¡± I ask. She nods and smiles again. I guess that makes sense. If I¡¯d been living with Marc my whole life, I¡¯d probably feel like talking is overrated too. I let her get back to her drawing and turn myself to get comfortable in my double seat.


    The bus hums along the freeway. Across the aisle, Chad is talking to Phil, his workout buddy from class two. I overhear their plans to chat up any girls if they see them. It¡¯s clear they¡¯ve never had any actual experience talking to girls who aren¡¯t their sisters. Not that I¡¯m much of a ladies¡¯ man, but I¡¯ve been out a few times for school dances at least. Their pickup lines are garbage, but they¡¯ve both got movie star looks, so who knows? Maybe they¡¯ll get a phone number they¡¯re not allowed to call or something. I¡¯m really not sure what they''re hoping for, but they seem pretty intent on it.


    I pull out my tablet to study and get most of my reading done for Mrs. Jones¡¯ class by the time the bus pulls off the freeway. I wonder for a moment if we¡¯re there, but the bus is just pulling up to a charging station in some nowhere town. Evan bolts upright as the bus halts.


    ¡°Snack time?¡± he asks me. Evan has the almost magical ability to snap awake even faster than he can fall asleep.


    ¡°Uh, I guess? That and charging the buses.¡±


    ¡°Come on man, let¡¯s go get our goodies.¡± He seems weirdly eager for someone who¡¯s about to shop at a gas station mini-mart.


    ¡°Is this the only time we ever get candy?¡± I venture to guess.


    ¡°And chips!¡± he says, getting up and making his way to the front of the bus with me in tow. It takes forever since the little kids in the front have to get out first.


    We make it through the sliding doors of the little shop just in time for me to hear one of the drivers telling the cashier that everything any of the kids buy is on him. Good, cause I didn¡¯t bring any cash. I head to the back and grab a coke from the cooler. Evan has four candy bars, two bags of chips, and a pack of spicy beef jerky in his arms before he joins me in the line of siblings getting their goodies rung up.


    While we wait, I look around. Other than the dozens of Butler kids roaming around, and the bunch of empty places where candy used to be on the shelves, the place just feels so normal. I¡¯ve missed places like this. It reminds me of shopping with Mom. I¡¯ve been so busy all the time since I got to the Institute, I haven¡¯t even had time to think much about everything I¡¯ve been missing in the real world. A wave of grief suddenly hits me. I miss Mom so much. I don¡¯t hate my new life, but losing my old one hurts so much right now.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe. I don¡¯t want to break down right now in front of everyone.


    I grab a pack of tissues and a green baseball cap off of a stand near the register and buy them along with my drink. Once we get back to our seats, I lean back and pretend to sleep with the hat over my face so no one can see when I let the floodgates open and the silent tears stream down. When I don¡¯t have any left, I turn toward the window before I let the cap fall from my face and clean myself up with the tissues as quietly as I can. Evan is already back to snoring. Chad is still workshopping pickup lines with Phil and doesn''t seem to have noticed anything. It¡¯s not long after I recover from my silent breakdown that the bus stops again, this time at our destination.


    Death Valley National Park doesn¡¯t look all that different from the area around the campus, minus all the solar panels. It¡¯s hot but not unbearable at this time of year, but I¡¯d hate to see this place in the summer. I¡¯m not sure why a wasteland like this got its preserved status, but the vast emptiness of the desert matches my mood. We seem to be the only ones here today, so I don¡¯t even get the pleasure of seeing Chad and Phil fail as pickup artists. Evan hauls me along for some hiking with a few of the other kids, but I¡¯m probably not great company. All I can think about is how much I miss Mom. At least Evan is nice enough not to call me out on it.


    At the end of the day, I linger at the back of the crowd as my siblings load onto the bus. I know I have to go back to the campus¡ªit¡¯s three more weeks before I¡¯m a free man¡ªbut I really don¡¯t want to. I want to go back to my real home. Andrea sees me and hangs back too. She gives me a significant look, then puts one finger to her eye and traces it down her cheek.


    ¡°You saw, huh?¡± I ask.


    She nods slowly, then puts her hand on my shoulder. I guess I wasn¡¯t as subtle as I thought I was. She puts her other arm out and pulls me in for a hug. I didn¡¯t think I had any tears left, but a few more slip out and drip down onto her shoulder. For all I know, she thinks I¡¯m crying about my dead dog that I told her about, but I don¡¯t care. I need this. She lets me go and hops on the bus. I pull myself together and wipe my face on my sleeve before I follow her.


    On the way back, I let myself dwell on all the things I used to have. My old house. The freedom to walk out the door and go wherever I want. Having a hundred restaurants I could choose from instead of whatever boring food they¡¯re serving in the cafeteria. Being able to call whoever I want, whenever I want, on my own phone. Most of all, Mom.


    Gone. All gone.


    They¡¯re all just fading memories now.

 Wednesday, April 13 and Friday, April 15

    Wednesday, April 13


    There¡¯s a quiet hour after dinner when no one seems to pay attention to where anyone else is. Most of my class is in the rec room or studying in their rooms. A few are taking a break in the dorm¡¯s common room. I¡¯m sure that Evan will come looking for me eventually for a game or a show, but for now I have a little time on my own.


    I¡¯m going to see if I can figure out if Father was lying about Mom or not. I always figured she¡¯d supported us with her writing, but when I think back on it, she only ever had a few books published, and those hadn¡¯t exactly been best-sellers. Maybe my childhood had been funded courtesy of regular deposits from Father. Or maybe he¡¯s full of it and trying to make me feel like I owe him. Either way, I want to know for sure.


    Plus, I¡¯ve told a few lies since I arrived here, and pretty much all of them will unravel if she ever mentioned our extracurricular computer activities. I¡¯m guessing Mom kept that to herself, since we committed more than a few felonies together. But she could have mentioned something about me learning coding, and that would be a discrepancy that I¡¯d need to figure out a way to explain. I figure my best shot is to hack into the computer network. That¡¯s less risky than trying a physical break-in, as long as I¡¯m careful. What I¡¯m looking for is probably on the computer network anyway.


    I consider my options. I¡¯ll need to hardwire Mom¡¯s laptop somewhere where there are physical network ports, since the wireless doesn¡¯t connect to anything besides a small and tightly walled off internal network. I¡¯ve seen a few jacks in the Residence, so that might work, but it¡¯s always crawling with people. The Research Center, where his office is, should have plenty of ports, but also has a bunch of security cameras all over it, so trying to set up in there doesn¡¯t seem like a great idea.


    The only other option I know of is the Learning Center. I jam Mom¡¯s laptop into my backpack, then set an alarm for an hour on my tablet and throw that in too. That should give me enough time to do some useful snooping but not so long that anyone will notice I¡¯m not around. I make my way into the building and down the long hallway toward the computer lab. The door is open and the lights are off. Excellent.


    I take a quick detour past Janet and Roxanne¡¯s office, keeping my feet as quiet as I can. Through the thick door, I can hear fast drums and an angry guitar riff. Roxanne must be on duty tonight, since it would be jazz playing if it was Janet in there. That¡¯s fine by me. Roxanne seems like the less attentive of the two of them.


    I slip back to the computer lab and settle in front of one of the workstations. I log in long enough to get the machine address of the network adapter, then open the laptop and spoof that address. I unplug the computer¡¯s ethernet cable and quickly plug it into the port on the laptop. With the address spoofed, it should look like the same machine as far as the network knows. I still have Jeff¡¯s password, so I use his credentials instead of my own to log in to the network. Mom¡¯s first rule of hacking: never get caught. If anyone is going to take the blame for what I¡¯m doing, I¡¯d rather it be Jeff than me. It would be even better if I could have stolen Chad¡¯s password, but that would have required me to sit next to him, which is definitely not worth it.


    I think back to the last hack that Mom and I did. Carbonica. One of the few coal mining companies still running in the country. They faked their safety inspections for years and ended up with a collapse that killed a bunch of miners. They denied everything, of course, up until Mom and I hacked the proof from their servers and made their own website serve it all up on their front page. That was a great piece of work, and I had learned a lot helping Mom do it.


    The important part of that hack right now is that we used one of her previous targets as a proxy to make it look like the attack was coming from one of Carbonica¡¯s competitors. I poke around the network and choose a few public servers to use as proxies in the same way. Bouncing the network traffic around like that misdirects it and makes it less likely that anyone will trace it to me here in this lab.


    If Roxanne were paying close attention to the network, or if she had automated tools that could pick up anything suspicious, this is about when I¡¯d expect to hear the faint music from down the hall either stop or get suddenly loud as she opens the door to come down and investigate. I wait a minute and just listen. Neither happens. I think I¡¯m clear.


    I wish I had Mom¡¯s email password. I asked Gramps on my Sunday call if they had it, but they didn¡¯t. If I had that, I could just read her mail and see if she¡¯d been talking to Father. But I don¡¯t, and cracking that would take forever, so I have to dig into the Institute email system to see if I can get to the conversation from Father¡¯s side. It¡¯s a pretty standard mail server, easy to install, easy to administer, and not hard to hack. It¡¯s not even patched to the latest version. I scan through Mom¡¯s exploit toolkit for an attack that¡¯ll work. Looks like there was a zero-day a few months back¡ªafter the date of this server¡¯s latest update¡ªthat should let me skip authentication. That¡¯ll do it. I trigger the exploit and use it to log in through the web client.


    I try to get into Chad¡¯s email first, just to test things out. Scanning through his mail, he¡¯s got some messages to and from Phil and Stan in class two, and an occasional email to his teachers, but it¡¯s mostly back and forths with Father. Chad emails him almost every single day to report on what a good boy he is and any rule-breaking my siblings have done. He gets replies maybe twice a week that basically all tell him good job and to focus on himself. What a suck-up. I¡¯m glad he hasn¡¯t had anything of substance to say about me yet. I log out.


    Now that I know it works, I hold my breath and log back in as Tom Butler. The page loads and I¡¯m good to go. It looks like he¡¯s the kind of guy that doesn¡¯t delete his email. He¡¯s got so many messages in here, almost all of them read. He or someone on his staff must spend a good chunk of their day keeping up with this stuff. The archive goes back for years and years.


    I filter my ill-gotten gains for mentions of me. I find plenty of messages dated since I arrived on campus. I don¡¯t have time to worry about them right now, but I make a mental note to check on them later. I filter all of those out and start looking through the older messages. There she is. Mary Kimball. My mom.


    Father has been straight with me. There¡¯s correspondence with my mother going back for years. Definitely her writing style, I¡¯d know that anywhere. Quarterly reports tell him all about my grades, health, attitude, and what a fine young man I¡¯m becoming. She bragged to him about all my accomplishments: AP tests, honor roll, chess tournaments, math contests, even academic decathlon. I¡®m pretty sure if I¡¯d been an athlete, she¡¯d have bragged on how I did in all my games. But there isn¡¯t any mention of anything I¡¯ve done with computers since I was really little. Good, but a little weird. Like she was hiding that from him. What did she think he would do if he knew I could code? Come and recruit me for the nanobot club?


    My tablet¡¯s alarm beeps quietly from my backpack. I reach in and shut it off. Time to get out of here before anyone notices I¡¯ve been gone. Reluctantly, I close the window with Father¡¯s email. I definitely need to get back in here sometime soon and read more. I tear down the misdirection tunnels and my connection to the proxies, then switch the cable so the workstation is plugged back into the network. I don¡¯t think using Jeff¡¯s account will leave any traces. Hopefully, Jeff won¡¯t notice a thing when he logs in tomorrow.


    I step out of the lab. The fast, muffled flow of beats and chords coming from down the hall tells me Roxanne is still in her office. Probably doesn¡¯t suspect a thing. I head back to the dorms. I arrive just in time to see Evan get headshot by Andrea on one of the screens. He sees me and tosses his controller at me from the couch where they¡¯re sitting. I catch it and settle in between them, ready for the next deathmatch. I still have a lot of homework to do before tomorrow, but I can squeeze in a couple of games before I start on that.


    Friday, April 15


    I check the computer lab after dinner and it¡¯s empty again. Sweet. After finding some younger kids in here yesterday, I was worried that Wednesday night was a fluke, but maybe I can make this a regular thing. Roxanne¡¯s angry girl rock drifts from down the hallway. Time to finish up what I started a couple of days ago.


    Now that I know what I¡¯m doing, it only takes me a couple of minutes to set things up again and get Father¡¯s email back open. I search through his mountainous inbox for references to my name since I got here. The bulk of them are the daily progress reports from my teachers. I spot check a few, and they mostly say nice things about me. Mrs. Hastings sends Father an update a couple of times a week, telling him I¡¯m adjusting well and seem happy. And it looks like the purchasing system sends him an automated message every time I buy something using the tablet app.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Hmm, who¡¯s Alejandra Guerrero? She sent Father a message saying that me and five siblings were up fifteen minutes past curfew in the common room last Monday. I remember that night. Evan had started the movie late and we wanted to finish it. Alejandra must be the cleaner who came through right at curfew. Apparently, the staff all double as spies for Father. Maybe that¡¯s why he didn¡¯t bother with cameras in the dorm building like he has all over the Research Center. Good to know.


    The search turns up a couple of calendar items too. The first one is that meeting we had a couple of days after I got here. The second one, set for three weeks from now, says Simulator Setup - Noah. Simulator? Maybe for the implant? Does this mean I¡¯m on track to get inducted into the superpowers crew with my sibs? Of course, that¡¯s a week after I¡¯ll be out of here. Or should I stay? Part of me is excited at the prospect, though I have to admit I¡¯m a little nervous about having anything installed inside my skull. It seems safe enough, and my sibs that have it seem fine.


    Well, some of them seem fine, anyway.


    While I have Father¡¯s calendar open, I take a look at what else he¡¯s got going on. What does a day in the life of a world-saving tech genius look like? Packed, apparently. Every day is stuffed full with meetings and phone calls. I see several with similar labels, like Potential Mother: Chau Nguyen, Potential Mother: Khadija Mwangi, Potential Mother: Maria Espinoza. He¡¯s got a meeting like that scheduled most days. I guess he¡¯s still growing the family. That makes sense with the regular cohorts of children I¡¯ve seen here. He¡¯s got every age group from mine on down to the babies, and it doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s stopping any time soon.


    Some of the other appointments look like they¡¯re medical, with labels like Brain Tumor and then a person¡¯s name. The calendar is peppered with phone calls scheduled with people I recognize from headlines as world leaders, CEOs of big companies, and famous celebrities. And that¡¯s just in April. I idly flip back a month to see who else he¡¯s been talking to lately.


    Wait.


    Now that¡¯s weird.


    March 16th is empty.


    The day Mom died is empty.


    It¡¯s the only day of the whole month with nothing scheduled on it.


    The paranoid part of my brain kicks into overdrive. There¡¯s no way that could be a coincidence. I scroll back into February. Every day is full. I pop forward to next month. Not all packed yet, but there isn¡¯t a single empty day. I flick back through February, January, back into last year. Same thing, there¡¯s never an empty day.


    There isn¡¯t a single other empty day on his calendar. Just the day my life ended.


    Did the hero who saved the world have something to do with my mother¡¯s death?


    Impossible. It was an accident!


    I remember that day clearly. The cop, Sergeant Thompson, coming by not long after I got home from school. The way he looked at me. How he told me a pickup truck ran a red light and crashed into her driver side door. She and the other driver had both died before the ambulance arrived. He waited with me while I sat stunned on the porch step while Gramps came over to pick me up. Gramps was crying which I didn¡¯t think he ever did. Then the blur of the next few days and the funeral and everyone saying everything would be OK and it was all a lie because nothing would ever be OK again because she was gone, gone, gone.


    Where the hell had my father been that day?


    The echo of footsteps down the hall pulls me back to my immediate reality. They¡¯re coming this way. I wipe the tears from my eyes that I hadn¡¯t realized were there a moment ago. I frantically switch the network cable back and jam the laptop into my backpack as I hear Chad¡¯s voice from the hallway.


    ¡°Hey, someone in there?¡±


    No. Chad is not the person I want to deal with right now.


    ¡°Just me, Chad,¡± I call back, trying to force my voice to sound normal. ¡°Catching up on some assignments.¡±


    He sticks his too-handsome, so-punchable face through the doorway and gives me a suspicious look. ¡°Catching up? Weren¡¯t you doing your history homework in the lab earlier? Why didn¡¯t you do your lab work then?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I was. I was trying to catch up on that too.¡±


    He frowns disapprovingly. ¡°Sounds like you need to spend more time working and less time goofing off with Evan.¡±


    I bite my tongue to keep myself from laying into him. Like he¡¯s got any room to talk with as much time as he and Phil spend in the rec room. But I know if I start arguing right now, I¡¯m going to end up decking him. I could take him. He¡¯s strong, but he¡¯s never been in a real fight. I doubt he knows how to take a punch.


    No. That¡¯s stupid. Hitting him won¡¯t help anything, even if it would be so, so satisfying.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Chad,¡± I force out. ¡°I¡¯ll work harder.¡±


    I shoulder my bag and move toward the door. Toward him.


    ¡°Good. We have an obligation to the world to prepare ourselves now for our mission,¡± he smugly lectures. ¡°No one else can do what we can do, and we are the only ones that can accomplish Father¡¯s plan. You remember the mission of the Institute?¡±


    I feel my fists ball up. I force them back open. ¡°Yeah. Preserve life, end suffering, and elevate humanity,¡± I recite as I brush past him. I stride down the hallway.


    ¡°Don¡¯t walk away when I¡¯m talking to you,¡± he demands.


    It takes everything I have not to turn around and punch Father¡¯s little helper right in the mouth. Instead, I keep walking.


    ¡°Like you said, I¡¯ve got work to do,¡± I say without looking back at him. ¡°I¡¯m not going to get it done here talking to you. Have a good night, Chad.¡±


    I don¡¯t hear footsteps following behind me. Good, because I¡¯m near my breaking point when I get to the Learning Center doors. I keep it together long enough to get myself through the doors and into the dorm common room.


    ¡°Hey, brother,¡± Evan calls to me. He¡¯s over on one of the couches with Louise and Andrea. Louise smiles and waves me over.


    I give them a curt nod and storm toward my room. I close the door and let the facade of control break down. I let it all go. My chest heaves as the sobs wrench their way out. My face melts into a mass of slimy goo. I stumble into my bathroom and blow my nose out over the sink.


    Why, Mom?


    Why did you have to die?


    Did he kill you?


    A soft knock taps at my door. I ignore it, trying to keep my breakdown quiet enough that whoever is there doesn¡¯t hear me.


    ¡°You OK in there, Noah?¡± Evan¡¯s voice says.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I call back, leaning against the wall for support.


    He knocks again. ¡°I¡¯m coming in.¡±


    I don¡¯t answer. Instead, I turn on the water and wash my face. I don¡¯t want anyone to see me like this. When I look up, I see him in the mirror behind me. I should have locked the door.


    ¡°It¡¯s OK, Noah,¡± Evan says softly. ¡°We all went through something like this.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± I ask, looking at his reflection through bleary eyes. ¡°Like your mom dying?¡±


    ¡°I never met my mother,¡± he says. His usual jovial demeanor is gone, replaced by a solemnity that¡¯s rare for him. ¡°No idea who she is. But I was raised by Nanny Jenny and she left when I was six. She didn¡¯t even die, and I still cried on and off for a couple of months. I don¡¯t know how you¡¯ve been holding up as well as you have. You don¡¯t need to be embarrassed about it. We all understand loss here.¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°I appreciate your concern, Evan. I really do. But I just need some time alone right now.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Do what you need to do, but most of us figured out a while back that it hurts less if you talk about it more. When you¡¯re ready, I¡¯m here. Or Louise. Or Andrea. Even Marc, though you know he talks more and listens less.¡±


    I wish he were right. I wish it were still as simple as just working out my grief. If it were, maybe I could just talk to my sibs, get over it, move on. But what if Father killed her? He could have. It wouldn¡¯t have been hard for him to make it look like a traffic accident. A little pressure from his nanobots on the gas pedal of an oncoming truck, or disconnecting its brakes, or a tweak to a switch on a traffic light making it green both ways. He¡¯d said it himself. Someone with a cloud like his could kill someone without leaving evidence.


    I need to know more about his cloud. I need to know what it can do. I need to know where he was that day. And I need to get Evan out of here so I can figure out how to do any of that.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him. ¡°We can talk tomorrow, maybe. I¡¯m just not up for it right now.¡±


    ¡°When you¡¯re ready, brother. No pressure.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say again.


    He puts his hand on my shoulder for a moment. The warmth of it almost makes me break down again. After a long few seconds, he nods and withdraws without another word, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone with my gut-twisting suspicions.

 Sunday, April 17 and Tuesday, April 19

    Sunday, April 17


    ¡°Come on, man,¡± Marc urges. ¡°We¡¯re about to start the show. Did you really never watch Hillside High?¡±


    I sigh. Marc can be painfully insistent. ¡°I¡¯ve seen commercials for it, does that count? It always looked like a lame teen drama.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the best teen drama!¡± he declares.


    I resisted him the first two Sundays I was here, but today I don¡¯t care enough to fight him on it. I let him lead me down to the common room. The smell of popcorn reminds me of the old movie theater where Mom and I used to go. A surprising number of my sibs are piled on couches and chairs that have been moved around to point to the biggest of the wall-mounted flatscreens. I think this might be all of the fourteen-and-up contingent, along with a few of the younger ones like Timothy who I think is maybe twelve. Even holier-than-thou, don¡¯t-waste-time, we¡¯ve-got-a-sacred-mission Chad is over on one of the couches with Phil and Stan.


    ¡°Hey, brother,¡± Evan greets me from one of the cushy three-seaters near the back of the cluster. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were a Hillsider.¡±


    True to his word, Evan hasn¡¯t put any pressure on me to talk to him about my breakdown the other day. That¡¯s good, because I still don¡¯t feel like I ever want to talk about it. Definitely not until I have some more concrete answers on what Father was doing the day Mom died.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I tell him flatly, grabbing the spot next to him on the couch. Marc takes the other corner.


    ¡°But you will be, once you watch it,¡± Marc says.


    The room gets quiet as the show starts. Yeah, it¡¯s a standard teen drama with bad writing and worse acting. Just a bunch of boring kids in a normal high school, dating and breaking up with dialog alternating between angsty, embarrassing, and obnoxious.


    ¡°You all really watch this every week?¡± I whisper to Evan.


    ¡°Shhh,¡± he whispers back, his eyes locked on the screen. ¡°I think Meg is about to break up with Steve.¡±


    I roll my eyes. They literally have super powers, and they think this is fascinating? I suppose it explains all the weird ideas they have about life in the outside world. I pull out my tablet and start work on my differential equations homework for Mr. Johnson. As predicted, Meg breaks up with Steve to gasps of horror and sighs of sadness from my siblings.


    As the teaser for next week¡¯s episode plays, a spear of sunlight stabs into the room from the big double doors. I turn and see Father¡¯s silhouette.


    ¡°Ah, the weekly ritual,¡± he observes. ¡°I hope I haven¡¯t interrupted. How are the teens of Hillside doing this week?¡±


    My siblings laugh like he just said something hilarious. They¡¯re so weird around him. The cult vibes kick in as I see how they fawn for his attention. He mingles in with my brothers and sisters as they rearrange the furniture back to its regular layout.


    ¡°Lisa, I loved your paper on the potential uses of harmonic resonance for nano-scale refinement of crystalline compounds. We should discuss that more at our next meeting. And Michael, your research on resolving gender wage disparities in agricultural communities was most interesting. Oh, Timothy,¡± he says, putting his hand on the little guy¡¯s shoulder, ¡°Mr. Roper tells me you¡¯ve finally gotten the trick of using polymorphism and inheritance in your programming. That¡¯s excellent, keep up the good work.¡±


    He greets as many of my brothers and sisters as stick around to talk to him with some little tidbit specific to each of them. Each sib beams in turn as he praises them. I¡¯m impressed that he can remember all of their names, much less any details about them all. But he seems to know what¡¯s going on in all of their classes. As far as they know, he¡¯s the perfect father: loving, supportive, and definitely not the type who might kill their mothers. I shake my head, then pack my tablet back into my backpack and make for my room.


    ¡°Noah,¡± Father¡¯s voice calls just before I reach the hallway. ¡°A word, if you please?¡±


    I try not to let my reluctance show as I turn around to face him. ¡°Yes, Father?¡±


    ¡°Could we have the room for a moment?¡± he asks my lingering siblings.


    They all nod and disperse. Father takes a seat on one of the armchairs and gestures toward the couch next to it. I force a smile and sit down with him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been hearing good things about you, Noah. Very good things.¡± He looks at me with an expression of pride that would have elated me a few days ago. Now, I can¡¯t do anything but wonder if his off-center smile hides a murderous heart.


    ¡°Thank you, Father. I¡¯ve been doing my best.¡±


    ¡°Your best seems to be exceptional. You have exceeded all expectations in your studies, particularly in picking up programming. For someone with no background in computer science, you seem to have preternatural instincts for it.¡±


    Is he messing with me? Does he know? I can¡¯t see any hint of deceit in his face.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess it comes to me pretty easily. It helps that I have good teachers.¡±


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Indeed.¡± He nods with a broad smile. ¡°I assigned you the two best I know. I had to pull Charles out of retirement at an exorbitant expense, but I think you¡¯ll agree he¡¯s worth it.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it. Mr. Johnson is amazing. Mrs. Jones is great too.¡±


    He looks so innocent, so sincere. So fatherly. There¡¯s no way he could look at me and keep his face like that if he had killed Mom a month ago, could he?


    ¡°I¡¯m glad they¡¯re working out for you,¡± he says. His smile fades and his face gets a serious look. ¡°Now, on to the more pressing business at hand. I think you know why I wanted to speak with you.¡±


    I fidget in my seat despite my efforts to stay still.


    ¡°We have been watching you closely,¡± he continues, not waiting for a response. ¡°Yesterday, Chad mentioned the extra hours he¡¯s spotted you spending in the lab.¡± Here it comes. Chad ratted me out. He knows. ¡°Before her unfortunate passing, your mother told me on many occasions what an exceptional young man you are. I have put that assessment to the test these last two weeks. I find now that she was not entirely honest with me.¡±


    I hold my breath. He knows about me breaking into his email. Or maybe he found out about the hacking that Mom and I used to do. Either way, he knows I¡¯m a criminal. He knows I¡¯ve been lying since I got here.


    I expect his eyes to turn angry as he lays out what he knows. How do they handle punishment for something that serious here at the Butler Institute? Or will he even keep me here? What¡¯s the worst he could do to me in the two weeks until I turn eighteen? Kill me?


    Instead, his stern look cracks. His crooked smile breaks out across his face. ¡°Noah, you are a young man of singular talents. Your mother did not even begin to do justice to your work ethic or your capacity for learning. All the siblings in your cohort speak well of your abilities. Even Jeff was impressed with you, and nothing impresses him.¡±


    I exhale, relieved. ¡°Really?¡± I manage to sputter out.


    He puts his hand on my knee. ¡°Well, as you might expect, Chad had a few minor complaints, but they revealed more to me about your positive qualities than anything else. Noah, I am proud to call you my son, and I would be honored to have you not just as part of my family, but as a member of my team as well. I would like to invite you to join me in saving the world. We have great things planned. Great things. If you are willing, you can be an integral part of it. I suspect you came here planning to leave when you turn eighteen, but if you are interested, you are welcome to stay and begin training with a cloud.¡±


    He pauses for a moment. Could he have killed her? It seems so impossible now, looking at him.


    ¡°What do you say, son? Are you still up for preserving life, ending suffering, and elevating humanity with me?¡±


    Grammy and Gramps will be crushed, but the decision is a no-brainer. If he didn¡¯t kill her, I definitely want in. If he did do it, this is my best way to be able to do anything about it.


    ¡°The honor would be all mine, Father,¡± I tell him. ¡°Count me in.¡±


    ¡°Good. Good!¡± he says, getting to his feet. ¡°We¡¯ll do some scans and blood work tomorrow so I can start on the preparations. It will take me some time to customize a model for your neural signature, and you¡¯ll have exercises of your own to work on, but we¡¯ll get everything moving as soon as possible. In the meantime, keep up the good work.¡±


    Tuesday, April 19


    My sibs have been using the computer lab for the last two nights, so I¡¯ve been frustrated in my attempts to dig deeper into Father¡¯s whereabouts on March 16th. I even considered asking around, seeing if anyone knows anything about it, but I figured that word would get back to him and the last thing I want is for him to have a clue about what I suspect.


    Tonight, though, the lab¡¯s windows are dark. I skirt around the edge of the campus wall, avoiding everyone, then slip into the Learning Center through the back doors. The muffled wail of a trumpet floats down the hallway, telling me Janet is in the admin office tonight. Hopefully, she¡¯s exactly as attentive tonight as her blue-haired counterpart has been on my previous evening sessions.


    I leave the overhead lights off this time. I don¡¯t want a repeat of Chad seeing that someone is in here and swinging by. I get settled and pull up a command console on Mom¡¯s laptop. My fingers dance across the keyboard as I route my secure shell connection through its series of misdirections. Finally, I pop Father¡¯s email open and start digging.


    Nothing that was received or sent on the day of Mom¡¯s death looks suspicious. Emails back and forth to a whole bunch of people that I don¡¯t care about. Standard philanthropy and do-goodering, setting up scholarships and schmoozing with the elite. Nothing that gives any indication of where he was that day. I scan through the few days before. No luck there either.


    I sigh, frustrated. There¡¯s got to be something somewhere on this network that will tell me what he was up to. One of the expense reports in Father¡¯s email catches my eye. Andrea bought a pair of new shoes that day. Not a useful fact on its own, but it makes me realize that if he went somewhere, he would have paid for something there. If I can figure out a way to access those expenses, that could be all I need.


    I get the email address that the expense report came from and do my trick to access its account on the mail server. Nothing incoming, which is what I¡¯d expect for an automated reporting tool, but the sent mail is a treasure trove. Just by glancing at today¡¯s expense reports I can see that this thing mails out every time a purchase is made with Institute funds. Copies of the reports go to a half-dozen names that I don¡¯t recognize, maybe accountants or auditors or something.


    I filter down to the notifications that went out on March 16th. Andrea¡¯s shoes are there, along with standard-looking expenses for food, cleaning supplies, and a whopping ten million dollar payment to someone named Adelina Kalchik with a justification line that says ¡°Genetic Contributor Contract Fulfillment.¡± I¡¯m not sure what that means, but it doesn¡¯t sound like what I¡¯m looking for.


    Junk, junk, junk. So many expenses to keep a place like this running, and no good way to tell what I¡¯m looking for without checking each one. More junk. Wait. There!


    A landing fee at the Denver Airport. Of course Father doesn¡¯t fly commercial. Father¡¯s private jet must have been at the Denver airport the day she died. He was there! Why, though? Did he kill Mom? Why on earth would he want to?


    My tablet beeps its warning¡ªI¡¯ve been here too long. Culling through all those emails took forever and it¡¯s nearly lights out. I think I might be at the end of what I can find out on the email server anyway. I¡¯m probably going to need to actually hack into his personal files to figure out what exactly he was doing in Denver.


    I should go before my absence arouses suspicions, but I take the risk of running a quick sweep through the network to see what services are running. That will give me a place to start researching what might be vulnerable. With all respect to Janet and Roxanne, I¡¯ve cracked tougher networks than this one. It¡¯s just a matter of finding the right gap in the armor.


    Once the scan is done, I stash the results, cover my tracks, and slip quietly back to the dorms where I join my unsuspecting siblings just in time for homework and a movie.

 Wednesday, April 27 and Thursday, April 28

    Wednesday, April 27


    I jam in the magic words for my SQL injection attack, tricking the database on Father¡¯s personal computer into opening the way past his security. After a week of staying up late reading and researching, I¡¯m in.


    I look at the clock. It¡¯s almost curfew, but I don¡¯t care. This is more important, and I¡¯m so close. People think about hacking as just connecting right up to the server you want to access, but it¡¯s almost never like that. Getting access to one server is the first step in a journey, with the privileges you get in that first step making it possible to take the next. The compromised server I¡¯m working through right now is the fifth link in the chain, each one a project in itself. If I stop now, I have to reforge all those links.


    Roxanne¡¯s music is still playing. I¡¯ll take my chances. I¡¯m so close.


    I start digging into Father¡¯s files. There are some plain text notes, programming scripts, and all sorts of files that I don¡¯t recognize. I¡¯m not sure where to start looking, so I do a text search for my name. Not a lot there. A few files have my name up near the top, but they look like medical files filled with sciencey gobbledegook that is way past what I understand. They must be the results from those scans and blood work we did last week.


    The thumping beat from the office down the hall stops suddenly. I quickly switch off the screen and duck down under the table with the chair between me and the door. As long as Roxanne doesn¡¯t turn on the lights or look too closely, she might close up the lab without seeing me. I hold my breath as she pokes her blue-haired head into the room. Please don¡¯t see me. Please don¡¯t see me.


    Please don¡¯t see me.


    She reaches in with one tattooed arm and pulls the door closed. I wait as the sounds of her steel-toed boots fade off down the hallway. As quietly as I can, I get back up and open Mom¡¯s laptop again, turning down its brightness as low as I can make it and still see.


    I dig back into the files, searching for Mom¡¯s name this time. A file shows up in a folder simply labeled notes. The files in there are just named by their dates. The ones that mention Mom are dated March 14th and 18th. I pop open the first one and scan through it frantically. The terse and jargon-filled text looks like the kind of thing I might leave for myself as I was working out a hard problem. I skip down to where Mom is mentioned and find some lines that seem pretty clear.


    Bot-based version of implant finally ready.


    Improved integration time and safety.


    Should address all issues of second generation implants.


    Feedback overloads that damaged Andrea all fixed.


    438 simulations run clean.


    I can¡¯t have anything like that happen to them again.


    Next class should be starting installation already, plan delayed.


    Need a test subject that can verify new hardware ASAP.


    Genetic compatibility required.


    Only choice is Mary¡¯s boy, the other lost ones are all too young.


    Hopefully she¡¯ll see reason.


    We must have him.


    The file ends there. I jump into the next file, dated March 18th. It¡¯s short, only a few lines.


    Negotiation failed, offer refused.


    What a disaster.


    Mary, WHY?


    Arrangements made with Sgt. Thompson - have Smith make sure daughter wins scholarship.


    That name. The cop who came and told me about Mom¡¯s ¡°accident.¡± Father did kill her! He paid off the cop to make the official story say whatever he wanted. He needed me as a guinea pig for his experiments, and he killed her to get me here.


    But what can I do about it? This evidence isn¡¯t anything that would convict him in court. Even if I had found this out legally, there isn¡¯t enough here to prove anything. I doubt I could get anyone else to believe me outside of Grammy and Gramps. But he must have killed her. Nothing else fits. The image of Mom¡¯s coffin on the day I buried her sticks in my mind, slowly lowering down into the ground. She should be alive.


    I look at the clock. Shit. It''s well past midnight. I wipe down all my exploits and tunnels, leaving my work undetectable, then log out. I sneak down the darkened hallways to the door nearest the dorms. Outside, I look around but don¡¯t see anyone. There aren¡¯t any security cameras on this side of campus, not that I¡¯ve been able to find anyway, but the night security guys could make their rounds any time.


    I make a dash for the dorm doors only to find that they¡¯re locked. Not good. If someone finds me out here, they¡¯ll get suspicious of what I¡¯ve been up to. They¡¯ll check everything, probably even the records of what computers got used when. From there, it¡¯s only a matter of time before Father finds out what I know. There¡¯s no way things end well for me at that point. Would he kill me like he killed Mom? I feel fear pushing in on me, my heart slamming against my chest.


    There¡¯s got to be some way in. I sneak around to the other side of the building and see a light shining from one of the windows on the first floor. Please be someone who can help me, and not someone like Chad.


    I slip silently over and peek inside. The blinds are open. Louise is at her desk beneath posters of Marie Curie and Rosalind Franklin, reading something on her tablet. I put my face up to the window and tap quietly on the glass. She looks around, but doesn¡¯t see me. I tap again, louder this time. She finally looks my way.


    ¡°Noah?¡± she asks, getting up from her desk. ¡°What are you doing out there?¡±


    ¡°Long story,¡± I whisper, hopefully loud enough for her to hear me through the glass. ¡°Want to let me in?¡±


    She thinks about it for a very long couple of seconds.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she says. ¡°Meet me at the front doors.¡±


    I hurry around and get to the big doors to the common room just before she does. She pops one of them open from the inside and gives me a long look as I come through the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask,¡± she finally says. ¡°But you owe me one. A big one.¡±


    ¡°Deal,¡± I agree gratefully. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Back in my room, I collapse onto my bed and breathe until my heart stops hammering. I need to be careful. I¡¯m dealing with a cold-blooded killer. Maybe the most powerful murderer ever. What can I do against that?


    Thursday, April 28


    ¡°You¡¯re Noah, right?¡± the girl behind the counter asks.


    I look up at her. She¡¯s beautiful, like they all are. I should be used to it by now, but I¡¯m not. Even with her black hair pulled away from the bronze skin of her face with that ugly hairnet, she¡¯s still gorgeous. I wonder for a second why she¡¯s asking, usually the cafeteria ladies keep their conversations with us students limited to asking what they can dish out for us.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°Happy birthday,¡± she says, stepping back to grab a small cake with white icing from one of the shelves behind her. Is it my birthday already? I guess it is. I¡¯ve been so distracted thinking about Father that I didn¡¯t even think of it all morning. She pops the cake on my tray along with my chicken fingers and fruit cup. The words Happy Birthday Noah are written out across the top in blue icing.


    I thank her and she gives me a smile and a nod before serving one of my little sisters who¡¯s next in line. I head over to my regular table with Evan and Louise. They take a look at the cake on my tray. Evan gets a big grin across his face.


    ¡°So you¡¯re eighteen now?¡± he asks.


    I nod. Louise shakes her head and turns to him. ¡°Fine, you win. Three hours of help on your project. But you have let me watch when you tell Chad.¡±


    ¡°Was there some bet on this? And why would Chad care?¡± I ask,


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    ¡°We weren¡¯t sure how old you were. Father never said and it seemed rude to ask. You¡¯re the oldest,¡± Evan says. ¡°Chad¡¯s been holding that position like it gives him the keys to the kingdom since we were born.¡±


    ¡°Huh,¡± I say, not sure what to make of that. I guess anything that gets under Chad¡¯s skin is OK. ¡°Want some cake? I¡¯m not really in the mood.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Evan says, stabbing his fork into it and pulling out a bite. Under the icing, the cake is chocolate with a layer of cherries in the middle. My favorite. Mom used to make a cake like that for me. Somewhere in those emails to him, she must have told Father about it. Damn him, using what she told him after he killed her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you guys later,¡± I say, and get up from the table.


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t eat anything,¡± Louise protests. ¡°And you didn¡¯t eat this morning either. Come on, what¡¯s going on with you?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I say as I walk away.


    Evan calls out after me, but I ignore him and keep going. I make my way across the commons, ignoring the toddlers playing tag on the grass and their nannies chatting with each other on the steps of the Residence. I blow through the doors to the dorms and almost crash into Marc on my way through the common room.


    ¡°Hey, Noah! I wanted to talk to you. I have a question about¡­¡±


    His voice trails off behind me as I dodge past him and keep on going down the hall to my room. As soon as I¡¯ve shut the world out, I collapse to the floor. My back presses against the door as if it could keep out the rage that keeps silently building inside me.


    I still have no idea what to do about Father. From what I¡¯ve been able to find out, that suited gorilla and his goons that came to my grandparent¡¯s house were just the tip of the iceberg. Father keeps a small army of lawyers on his payroll, and everyone who¡¯s ever tried to take him on in the legal arena has ended up ruined. I can¡¯t imagine I¡¯d do any better with my scraps of ill-gotten evidence putting him in the same city as a woman who died in a car crash.


    I¡¯ve even thought of trying to kill him, but from what I¡¯ve read, other people have tried and his tech makes him damn hard to kill. He¡¯s been shot at on multiple occasions when he was in warzones brokering peace deals, one time by machine-gun fire. Every time, not a single bullet touched him. Not that I even have a gun. But if others with actual combat training have tried and failed that way, I don¡¯t expect that any weapon that I could get my hands on would do any good either.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe.


    I force my clenched fists to uncurl. I¡¯ll wait. I¡¯ll stay here, gain his trust, and find the evidence. There has to be more tying him to it. He¡¯s a meticulous planner. There must be more that would prove his motives, his plans.


    Wait, watch, learn. I feel my rage growing cold. Not any less intense, but more calculating. I¡¯m going to need that. I can¡¯t let anyone know what I¡¯m planning. I need to put on a better face. I need to be the perfect son until I can find what I need.


    A tentative knock comes from behind me. ¡°What?¡± I say, way more harshly than I intended. No. Dammit. I need to play it cool.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I apologize to whoever is knocking. In a more controlled tone, I ask who it is.


    ¡°It¡¯s OK, brother,¡± Evan¡¯s voice says. ¡°I¡¯ll come back later.¡±


    I get to my feet as his footsteps start down the hall.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I say, opening the door. ¡°Come on in.¡± He turns. ¡°Sorry.¡± I let him come past me into the room. ¡°I¡¯m just having a tough time lately.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I noticed,¡± his deep voice rumbles. ¡°You want to talk about it yet?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I think I do.¡± I sit down on my bed and he takes the chair at my desk. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you this, but I didn¡¯t exactly come here voluntarily. Father sent his guys, his lawyers, and they just took me. I came here thinking I¡¯d just stay for a month. Leave today, now that I¡¯m an adult.¡±


    He nods. ¡°You still thinking that?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯m not sure there¡¯s even a point. It¡¯s like everything I ever knew is gone. My old friends probably all think I¡¯m a jerk for not answering or returning their calls, but the lawyers took my phone away on day one. They could have emailed, or I could have, but they didn¡¯t, and I didn¡¯t. Doesn¡¯t even matter, we were all heading off to different colleges anyway. Finishing high school doesn¡¯t matter anymore. Mrs. Hastings says she¡¯ll print me a diploma any time I want, and that I¡¯ve already been accepted to Stanford in the fall if I want to leave.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of that college,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s a good one, right?¡±


    I look at him for a second to see if he¡¯s serious. I think he is. This place is so weird. I nod and go on.


    ¡°And my grandparents just sound so sad every week when I call them. They want me to go back, but I don¡¯t have any reason to go back to Denver other than seeing them. Besides, I feel like I have reasons to stay now.¡± I don¡¯t mention the real reasons. Let him think that it¡¯s about him and Louise and Andrea and friendship or saving the world or whatever. ¡°I just feel, I don¡¯t know, homeless, I guess.¡±


    I reach over and pick up the picture of Mom. I look at her, smiling there. I show her to Evan. ¡°Mostly, I miss her. She was my whole world. My mom, my best friend, sometimes even my dad. That¡¯s what she told everyone when she took me to the father-and-son campout when I was ten. She was the only woman there. She was always there. And now she¡¯s not.¡±


    Evan sits and nods and understands while I tell him everything. Not everything, obviously, but everything about me and Mom and growing up in my little house in Denver¡¯s suburbia. Everything about how much I miss her. He grabs a box of tissues when I can¡¯t stop the waterworks. He even holds the trash can up so I can throw the wads in after every time I blow my nose. We talk for hours. Once I¡¯m all out of words and tears, he gives me one of his huge hugs.


    Best brother ever.


    ¡°Thanks, man. You were right. I feel better now.¡± Not any less filled with hate for my father¡ªif anything, my focus on that feels sharpened¡ªbut better. Time to practice putting on that fake face. I force a smile. ¡°Come on. Enough of this misery. Let¡¯s go do something fun.¡±


    ¡°Sure. You want a game or something?¡± Evan asks. ¡°We still have a few minutes left before dinner.¡±


    I¡¯m about to agree when I hear Marc¡¯s voice as he barges in. I¡¯ve got to start locking that door.


    ¡°Hey, Noah!¡± he says. ¡°Hey, I just heard. You¡¯re getting an implant! That¡¯s so great!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re getting one?¡± Evan asks. ¡°Congratulations! That¡¯s awesome. And now Jeff owes me a dessert.¡±


    ¡°You made a bet on that too?¡± I ask, giving him an accusatory look.


    ¡°Yeah, first day you were here. See, I believed in you right from the start.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Uh, thanks. I guess.¡±


    ¡°How did you find out?¡± Evan asks Marc.


    ¡°Lisa and Becky overheard Mrs. Hastings telling the gardeners that there might be another student accidentally walking through the flower beds soon.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what that has to do with anything, but Evan nods as if that explains things. Marc picks up the picture of Mom from where I left it next to me on the bed.


    ¡°Ooh, who¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°My mom,¡± I answer, ¡°and please don¡¯t touch that, it¡¯s the only picture I have of her.¡±


    ¡°I just want to look. You¡¯re so lucky. She¡¯s really pretty. I always wondered what my mother looks like. Probably not like yours. Was your mother tall? I think mine must have been short, cause I¡¯m the shortest guy in our class.¡±


    I reach for the picture, but Marc holds on, still studying it.


    ¡°Let go, Marc. I mean it.¡±


    ¡°I just want to look,¡± he repeats. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful with it.¡±


    ¡°Give it back,¡± I demand, pulling on the frame. Don¡¯t touch her. Don¡¯t you ever touch her, you old bastard! And suddenly Marc is Father and the picture is Mom and I can¡¯t let go and he won¡¯t let go and the next thing I know the frame is broken on the tile floor and there¡¯s broken glass shattered all over.


    ¡°Dammit Marc!¡± I shout.


    ¡°Not cool, brother,¡± Evan says, giving Marc a disapproving glare. ¡°Not cool at all.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m really sorry. Here, I¡¯ll clean it up.¡±


    He starts doing gestures with his hands like he did that first day I met him. A fine dust coalesces out of the air and starts pushing the glass shards around the floor. I think he¡¯s trying to sweep them into a pile, but it¡¯s not working very well. Half of them start moving in random directions.


    ¡°Wait, Marc,¡± Evan says.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s OK. He¡¯s getting an implant. It¡¯s OK to show him more now,¡± he insists.


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about that,¡± my giant brother says. ¡°Please, let me get it.¡±


    ¡°No, I got this,¡± Marc says, and his face screws up in a look of intense concentration. His fingers start making more controlled motions and his eyes slowly scan across the floor. The pieces of glass start following where he looks instead of sliding all over. I watch with curiosity as he sweeps the floor with his nanobots, my anger with him forgotten for the moment. In a minute, the pieces of broken frame and all the shards of glass are gathered in the center of my room.


    ¡°Thanks for cleaning it up,¡± I say. ¡°Now just let me¡ª¡± He makes a squeezing gesture with his hands and the jagged bits of glass and frame squish into a ball, crushing the photograph. With another wave, the whole glob hops itself into the trashcan full of my snot tissues.


    ¡°¡ªgrab the picture,¡± I finish.


    ¡°Oh. No!¡± he says, a mortified look coming over his face as he realizes what he just did. ¡°No. No! Nononono! I am so sorry!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I was worried about,¡± Evan says, leaning his forehead into his massive palm.


    I¡¯m too emotionally exhausted at this point to even curse him out. Marc starts reaching into the trash. ¡°Stop,¡± I tell him. ¡°You¡¯re just going to cut yourself.¡±


    ¡°No, let me fix it,¡± he protests.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough,¡± I whisper. ¡°Just go. Please.¡±


    He hangs his head and leaves. Evan fixes the trash can with a look and the ball of glass, metal, and crumpled photo paper rises up out of it to float in the air. He starts making pinching and pulling motions with his hands. The glass and bent metal start peeling themselves off, dropping back down into the can.


    ¡°Any hope for salvaging it?¡± I ask.


    Evan¡¯s eyes alternate between darting from side to side and fixating on the ruined photo. He makes more subtle motions and the picture straightens itself out. It smooths back to flat, but Mom¡¯s face is pierced in a dozen places and criss-crossed with crease lines.


    ¡°Best I can do, brother,¡± he says sadly, looking at it. ¡°Sorry. Maybe Andrea can recreate it or something.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I tell him, shaking my head. ¡°Thanks for trying. There¡¯s just not a lot of pictures of her. Mom was always camera shy. I think my grandparents have a copy of that one though. I¡¯ll just ask them to send it.¡±


    ¡°You sure you¡¯re OK?¡±


    ¡°No. But I¡¯ll survive. As far as bad things that happened this year go, this one¡¯s not even top ten.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re strong, brother.¡± He stands up and pulls me to my feet. ¡°Now, let¡¯s go eat. And you actually have to eat this time.¡±


    I nod in agreement, even though I still don¡¯t feel any desire to put anything in my mouth. I should eat. I need to keep up appearances. I need to keep my strength up. I need to act completely normal if I¡¯m ever going to pay the old man back for what he did to Mom.


    Happy birthday to me.

 Saturday, May 7

    Saturday, May 7


    I pass Mr. Smith and a pair of his legal goons in the hallway of the Research Center. The gorilla in a lawyer suit looks at me like I¡¯m something foul he scraped off the bottom of his too-shiny wingtip shoes. I studiously ignore him and turn the corner to the hallway where Father has his office.


    ¡°Oh, good, Noah. You¡¯re here,¡± Father says, looking up from his desk. His office is spacious but cluttered, with stacks of papers piled on several narrow tables against one wall between computers and other hardware. The opposite wall is one gigantic whiteboard covered with a tidy scrawl and arcane diagrams from corner to corner. The place looks more like an engineering work area than anything else.


    ¡°Morning, Father,¡± I greet him, carefully hiding my hate with a friendly smile.


    ¡°Let¡¯s be about it then,¡± he says, rising to his feet. He comes around the desk, wearing his usual outfit of a short-sleeved button-down shirt and khaki slacks. ¡°Come along, my lab is this way.¡±


    I follow him down a few twists of hallway and through a door that could have guarded a bank vault. The lab is a cross between an operating room and an electronics workshop. Several large lights hang from the ceiling, pointed at what I can only assume is an operating table, an ominous-looking slab of dull steel in the center of the room with a dozen black straps dangling from each side. Racks of servers hum against one wall, neatly coiled wire probes hooking to ports in the front. Half a dozen monitors cluster around a standing desk with a keyboard and mouse on it not far from the operating table. Across from the server racks, a pair of large, deep sinks share the wall with open shelves holding medical supplies. Clear plastic packages containing syringes, scalpels, and gauze stack up next to an array of small machines that look like they belong in a hospital.


    ¡°Just a moment, let me get the rig,¡± Father says. He opens a cabinet in one corner by the server racks and pulls out a helmet with a pair of cameras attached to the front. ¡°Here, this one should be your size. Try it on, please.¡±


    He hands it to me and helps me with the straps. It fits snugly on my head, but the front comes down too far, covering my eyes and leaving me blind. It¡¯s lighter than I would have expected from looking at it.


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Surprisingly comfortable.¡±


    ¡°Good, good,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s important, as you¡¯ll be wearing it nearly all the time for the next month. Let¡¯s fire it up.¡±


    He guides my hand up to a button on the side of the rig and suddenly I see his face looking at me. ¡°Are the cameras working?¡± I nod, not seeing any lag in the display as my head moves. It¡¯s almost like I don¡¯t have my eyes covered. ¡°Take it for a little spin around the room.¡±


    I comply, walking past the desk and around the table. ¡°Yeah, still good.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Let¡¯s put up the overlay then.¡± He steps over to the desk and his fingers click across the keyboard.


    Can you see this?


    The text appears in large letters in the air in front of me. I turn my head and it follows me, staying centered in my field of vision. ¡°Yeah, I see it.¡± I reach out with a hand in front of my covered face. My fingers pass through the ghostly words.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m going to feed in some more text. Practice reading it while you move around.¡±


    The first message disappears, replaced by smaller words that look like an article from a medical journal. I steady myself with one hand on the operating table as I try to walk and read at the same time. My stomach churns at the incongruity between the fixed overlay and the moving world and I have to stop and close my eyes for a moment.


    ¡°It takes a bit of getting used to, I know,¡± Father says. ¡°Take as long as you need.¡±


    I snap my eyes open, keeping my head still this time. The text is still front and center, superimposed on my view of the world. At a second look, the letters are semi-transparent. I can see through them enough to make out the shelves behind them.


    ¡°Is the display adjustable?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Father answers. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to change the font, size, opacity, justification, and later even split it out into multiple windows. I¡¯ll sync your headgear up to your tablet before we¡¯re done here and give you the documentation and an app for the controls.¡±


    I nod, getting another little twinge of nausea. I take a deep breath and a few steps, reading through the article as I do. Looks like some researchers are working on new procedures for performing surgery on stomach ulcers. At least I¡¯m not going to trip and fall from being too fascinated by the subject matter. Another dozen steps and I¡¯m getting to the end of the displayed text.


    ¡°How do I¡ª¡± I was about to ask how to scroll the text down, but when I look down as far as I can without moving my head, the text slides up, revealing more of the article. ¡°Nevermind, figured it out.¡± I hear Father¡¯s amused chuckle. I look way up and it scrolls back.


    I practice reading and walking, letting go of the table. It takes a bit, but the nausea fades as my body gets used to having the overlay there. I stop worrying that I¡¯m going to lose my breakfast. Something about it reminds me of playing a first-person shooter. There¡¯s even a villain, an evil old man fiddling with some kind of glove at his standing desk. Who knew that all those years of video games would pay off? Too bad there¡¯s no insta-kill mega-gun in this game. I¡¯d sell my soul for that cheat code right now if it could take him out.


    ¡°Ready for the next step?¡± Father asks. His crooked smile makes my stomach turn even more than the superimposed text in the headset.


    ¡°Yeah, ready.¡±


    ¡°Come on over here and let¡¯s get you gloved up.¡± I walk past the creepy operating table with its straps and stop next to his desk. One of his monitors is a view of what I¡¯m looking at, and as I focus on it, it goes into an infinite recursion, like a pair of mirrors facing each other, screen in screen in screen in screen. The sight gives me another twinge of nausea, so I look away.


    ¡°Left hand, please,¡± he says. I hold out my arm and he pulls the glove he was playing with onto it. He adjusts several straps until it fits perfectly. ¡°Flex those fingers, make sure it feels comfortable. Like the headset, you¡¯ll be wearing this all day, every day.¡±


    I test it out. It¡¯s light, flexible, and made of material breathable enough that I barely feel it once it''s on.


    ¡°Good, good. Now, keep your hand still for just a moment,¡± he clicks something on one of his several screens and the text on my overlay disappears. He clicks one more time on a little icon of a glove. ¡°There. Now flex your thumb, just like so.¡± He demonstrates moving his thumb, just past the end knuckle.


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    I repeat the motion. A big letter A appears on my overlay. A mirroring letter appears on his screen. I flex it again, another A. Another and another. I bend both joints and get an E in front of me and on his screen. I move my whole hand a few times and get a spew of garbage letters. Yeah, this is going to take some practice.


    ¡°Understand the concept?¡± Father asks.


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s a one handed keyboard hooked up with sensors in the glove. I don¡¯t understand why we would need this though. Can¡¯t your implant just kind of, you know, tell what you want to write?¡±


    Father chuckles. ¡°I suppose it could, given a significant effort by both you and the hardware. But detecting the notion of a letter in your cortex is infinitely harder than detecting the nerve impulse to move a specific muscle. Believe me, this is much more effective.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I concede, flexing the glove again and getting another spew of random letters across my overlay. ¡°Any chance you have some training software for this thing?¡±


    He nods, his crooked smile widening. ¡°Right in the app you¡¯ll get today. And you¡¯ll practice using it on all your schoolwork starting tomorrow. Your teachers will know to give you a little slack these next few days as you get used to it. Now make a fist and hold it for just a moment.¡±


    Clenching my fist is easy, it¡¯s getting it to relax after my overlay clears that¡¯s harder. I just wish I could take him down right now, hit him before he suspects anything then choke the life out of him. But the security camera in the corner of the room guarantees that if I did that and somehow succeeded, I¡¯d spend the rest of my life in jail. Maybe I could plead insanity, get off with some time in a mental institution instead.


    No. It wouldn¡¯t even work. His tech would stop me somehow.


    Wait, watch, learn.


    Oblivious to my feelings, Father gives me a quick course on using the typing glove. He runs me through the alphabet, then all the extra controls¡ªlike turning it off so I can move my hand without accidentally typing.


    ¡°Of course, this will all be much more natural once the implant¡¯s sensors are reading your nervous system¡¯s responses directly, but for now this will help you develop what they mistakenly term muscle memory. It¡¯s actually all just brain memory, of course, but specialized in the motor cortex.¡±


    I nod, absorbing the information. I need to know everything I can about how the implant works.


    ¡°As you become more familiar with the setup, try to type as much as you can. Use it to take notes in your classes, write down your conversations, and capture your thoughts. Anything that gets you typing. The more you do it, the easier your transition to the implant will be.¡±


    I glance at his screen where my typing had appeared. He notices as the monitor showing my camera flashes with that same view. ¡°Ah, yes, privacy. Don¡¯t worry. Once we¡¯re done here, the rig will be paired with your tablet alone. I won¡¯t be peeking in on what you are looking at or writing down. You may have noticed that we don¡¯t have cameras in any of the student buildings here. I think it¡¯s very important for young people to have a sense of their own private space.¡±


    Except for how you use your cleaning staff to spy us out anyway, I carefully don¡¯t say. Instead I just nod.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be able to share what you write with your tablet¡¯s network connection to the campus network. You¡¯ll submit your homework as normal, the training rig will just act as your keyboard and screen.¡±


    ¡°So this display can mirror the tablet screen?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I don¡¯t usually lead with that, as it¡¯s more disconcerting to the equilibrium than the simple text display that we started with, but yes. Let¡¯s get your device paired and you can try it out.¡±


    I fetch my tablet from my backpack and hand it to him. He types a series of arcane commands in one of his many windows. The screen of my tablet fills my view.


    ¡°There. Now you should never need to look at the tablet again until you graduate from your training rig. The touchscreen capabilities are replaced with eye tracking tools. I imagine you¡¯ll get used to that part quite quickly, most of your siblings did.¡±


    My eyes go funny for a little bit and I have to fight through another wave of nausea before I¡¯m able to click one of my textbooks to life. I check his monitors. His view of my cameras and visual overlay have disappeared. I wonder how much I can trust what he said about privacy. He hasn¡¯t lied to me yet, other than that one big one where he pretends not to be a murderer.


    ¡°Good, good!¡± Father declares proudly. I feel a little like a kid who just made a stick-figure finger painting and is getting praised for it. ¡°Now practice, practice, practice. Hard work now will yield desirable results later.¡±


    ¡°I will, Father.¡±


    ¡°Off you go then. Take the rest of the day to play with your new toys, and don¡¯t worry about your project work for the next week or so.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him, and force a smile.


    It feels awkward walking around with the headset on, both from the still-unnatural feeling of having the overlay in front of me and because I feel like everyone is staring at me. I give the kids kicking around a soccer ball on the commons a wave and they go back to their playing. I guess I¡¯m not the first one to walk around campus looking like a refugee from a science fiction movie.


    I hit the dorm commons and find most of the sibs from my class lounging on one of the pods of couches. Everyone but Jeff is there, chatting and tapping on their tablets.


    ¡°He¡¯s got the headgear! And the power glove!¡± Marc exclaims as he sees me.


    ¡°Congratulations, Noah, this is an important step for you,¡± Chad says, rising to his feet. I wonder for a second if it would break the glove if I hit him with it.


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s official, now,¡± Evan adds. ¡°Our oldest brother, joining the water and power crew.¡±


    Chad gets a dark look. Evan and Louise were right. He¡¯s not at all happy that I¡¯m the oldest. That¡¯s probably why Evan likes to needle him with it whenever he can.


    ¡°Joining the what now?¡± I ask, flopping onto the couch next to my huge brother.


    ¡°Water and power,¡± Evan repeats. ¡°That¡¯s the way our class is going to save the world. Making sure the world has enough clean power and drinkable water. Like how Phil¡¯s class is going to solve resource scarcity with nanotech mining. I thought you knew that, didn¡¯t you? Isn¡¯t that why you picked the water filter project?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I just picked it cause it was kind of like yours, except it turned out that selective pollution removal is a totally different problem than your desalinators. So are we all supposed to be specialized?¡±


    ¡°Every class has an area of focus,¡± Chad explains using his know-it-all voice, ¡°but only the oldest few classes have started specializing into their domains. Father has a master plan that he might choose to share with you, if he feels you are worthy.¡±


    Oh yeah, he really hates that I¡¯m older than he is. I¡¯m glad a big chunk of my face is covered with the headset so it¡¯s harder for any of them to see my reaction to Father as the judge of my worthiness. I need to make sure I keep control of my emotions. As far as they all need to know, I¡¯m another good little disciple in the cult of Tom Butler.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Evan says, ¡°we were about to head to the rec room. Want in on some foosball?¡±


    ¡°Naw. I need to relearn how to type for a while. You all go have fun.¡±


    ¡°So, did he say how long it will be until he does the install?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°Start of June is what he told me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky,¡± Marc says. ¡°We all had to do the headgear for two months. I got the worst acne where the straps go. Do you think you¡¯ll get that too?¡±


    Andrea rolls her eyes and her graceful fingers dance. A question mark appears in the air, then gets a big red X through it.


    ¡°Yeah, no one wants to hear about your acne Marc,¡± Louise adds. ¡°Later, Noah.¡±


    I shake my head and watch them leave. He¡¯s rushing me through the training. I really am just a guinea pig for him, someone to test his newest model of the implant on before he uses it on the kids he actually cares about. I hope he doesn¡¯t wreck my brain. I really need it if I¡¯m going to make him face justice for Mom. But whatever he¡¯s doing is probably safe-ish. From his notes, he¡¯s planning to do the same thing to my whole next class of siblings.


    I focus on the overlay and do the weird eye-focus tricks to bring the tablet screen up front and center in my overlay. I eye-tap the new training app and start learning my ABC¡¯s all over again.

 Monday, May 9 and Sunday, May 15

    Monday, May 9


    The Ethics of Water Rights Customs in Eastern Africa


    Each letter still takes thought, but at least I don¡¯t have to look up the motions for each one anymore. Just getting the title of my paper out takes longer than it should. I thought when Father said I would get some slack from my teachers, it meant no homework. No such luck. It just means a ten page paper is due tomorrow instead of a twenty-pager. Part of me just wants to peel the stupid rig off so I can type this out like a normal person, but I grit my teeth and make my fingers soldier on, painstakingly pushing out each sentence letter by letter.


    ¡°Hey brother, what you up to?¡± Evan¡¯s voice says from behind me as the door clicks open.


    I tweak the opacity on the display so I can see through my paper, then turn as he takes a seat at the foot of my bed.


    ¡°Writing about the ethics of who owns which wells in Kenya,¡± I answer. ¡°It¡¯s so fun that you probably want to write this paper for me.¡±


    He laughs. ¡°I actually wrote that same one last year, but I have a strict rule of not letting slacker brothers reuse papers.¡±


    ¡°Slacker? I¡¯m busting my butt here. Any tips for making this stupid one-handed keyboard glove any easier?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°Just use it a lot. It¡¯s second nature to me now. I¡¯m writing all the time, you know? Implant live journal for the win.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I ask.


    ¡°The point of the implant, brother,¡± he replies. ¡°For Chad, it¡¯s all about saving the world, using the tech to carry out Father¡¯s big plan. For Jeff, it¡¯s all about using the bots to control everything, bending the world to his will without ever using his body. Louise sees it as the key to understanding the human brain, and Andrea thinks it¡¯s the ultimate means of artistic expression. Marc, well, Marc just struggles to use his at all. But me, I¡¯m using it to know myself. Keeping track of every observation, every thought. I wasn¡¯t born with it, but I¡¯m one of the few people on earth with a perfect memory.¡±


    ¡°What, you just write down everything that happens to you as it happens?¡±


    ¡°Everything that happens, everything I say, everything I hear, everything I think.¡±


    ¡°Are you for real?¡± I ask. ¡°What was the first thing I ever said to you? Word for word.¡±


    He pauses for a second as his eyes dart around.


    ¡°¡®Noah, Yeah, I¡¯m Noah,¡¯¡± he replies. ¡°Then I told you I was glad you could talk, then you said ¡®Yeah. I talk. Sorry. It¡¯s been a lot to take in this morning. Who is that girl?¡¯ and then I realized you didn¡¯t know we were all siblings and you had the hots for Andrea.¡±


    ¡°You knew and you didn¡¯t tell me? Dick move, brother.¡± I grab a pen off my desk to throw at him. He deflects it with a glance and laughs at me again.


    ¡°I just wanted to see where it would go with you and her. Too bad you figured it out so fast. Don¡¯t worry, I would have stopped you before you embarrassed yourself too much.¡±


    ¡°Are you writing what I¡¯m saying right now?¡±


    ¡°Now and all the time. I told you, I get everything down. I figure one day after we¡¯ve saved the world, someone will want the inside story of what went on here.¡±


    I shake my headgear-covered head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m comfortable with that. Plus, it sounds like a crazy amount of effort.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you asked, I answered. Don¡¯t worry. Just because it¡¯s written down in my console, doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m sharing it with anyone. And it¡¯s really not any effort at this point. It¡¯s not even like typing for me anymore, it¡¯s just automatic.¡±


    ¡°And it works like this simulator rig? Floating text in front of you all the time?¡±


    He nods. ¡°Like that, but better. More customizable. Your brain just learns to use it like it¡¯s a part of you. It¡¯s kind of like when you put on sunglasses¡ªyou know, where at first you see the frames, but after a minute you only notice them if you think about them.¡±


    ¡°So is it worth putting in the effort now to get good with the glove? Or is it going to be all different once I get the implant?¡±


    ¡°Definitely worth it. The thing uses the same nerves, just on the other end of the connection. Up in the brain, instead of down in the muscles, you know?¡± I nod. ¡°Anyway, I was going to put on a movie, you want in? I¡¯ll even let you pick it.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°I wish I could, but I don¡¯t think I can split my attention and still get this paper done tonight. Maybe tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°You work too hard, brother. You know if you don¡¯t get stuff done, they just slow up the pace, right? There¡¯s no failing at this school.¡±


    ¡°There is for me. I have a lot more to prove than you do.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°All right. I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡±


    I get back to writing my paper, redoubling my effort. I¡¯ve never thought about the other uses of the implant beyond controlling the nanobots. I¡¯m not worried about knowing myself, but I¡¯ll take a perfect memory if I can get it. It would certainly help with all of this schoolwork, proving I¡¯m good enough for Father¡¯s program so I can continue to insinuate myself into his inner circle. It might even help in dealing with Father later. You never know when some detail might make a difference. If Evan can get writing everything down to feel automatic, there¡¯s no reason I can¡¯t do the same.


    Sunday, May 15


    I scan the doors of the side hallway off the foyer, looking for the salon. Wooden doors marked Massage, Orthodontics, Modiste, and Counseling go by before I find the door with SALON lettered in bold black type. I push it open and a little bell dingles, just like at the barbershop I used to go to back in Denver. I think the familiarity makes it worse. I hate this place so much.


    No! I can¡¯t think like that. I don¡¯t hate this place. I love it. Just like I love Father. He¡¯s great. I¡¯ve only got three more weeks to internalize that. From what I¡¯ve gathered from my sibs, when I come out of surgery, it¡¯s just going to be me, him, and fading anesthetic. I¡¯m not going to have much of a filter on what I might say. I need to train myself with happy thoughts, happy words, drill them right into my subconscious. And especially don¡¯t think of that one person who definitely didn¡¯t die under suspicious circumstances. I think that will work, anyway. Someone on the internet said it would. That¡¯s foolproof, right?


    ¡°Noah?¡± the woman with chestnut-brown hair asks as I come in. She¡¯s cute, curvacious, and maybe twenty.


    ¡°That¡¯s me, here for my appointment. You¡¯re Allison?¡±


    ¡°I certainly am,¡± she says with a stunning smile. ¡°I think it¡¯s just wonderful that you¡¯re here. It¡¯s so rare we get a new client in that¡¯s old enough to tell us how they want their hair done. What are we doing for you today?¡±


    She gestures to one of the three barber chairs and I take a seat. ¡°Just a trim, I guess,¡± I say as she wraps me in a cape to keep the hair off of my clothes. ¡°I like my old cut, but it¡¯s getting long enough that it¡¯s messing with a headset that I have to wear.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Allison says. ¡°I¡¯ve taken care of your brothers and sisters that had to wear that thing. It did quite a number on the girls¡¯ hair. And Evan¡¯s, though Leticia usually took care of him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I can imagine his curls didn¡¯t love being compressed.¡±


    ¡°Right. So for you, we¡¯re doing the same as you have, but cleaned up?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s do that.¡±


    She leans my chair back into a sink and I spend a few minutes of bliss getting my scalp massaged as she washes my hair. At some point in there the bell on the door rings again, and I hear muffled voices drowned in the sound of flowing water. When Allison lifts the chair back up, Jeff is in the seat next to me. His hair looks like he took clippers to himself without a mirror.


    ¡°Hey, Jeff,¡± I say. I desperately want to ask what he did to his hair, but I¡¯m not sure how he¡¯d take it. With as little as he talks, I still feel like I barely know him.


    ¡°Noah,¡± he says.


    We sit quietly for a minute as Allison goes to work with her scissors. From the glimpses I get when the chair spins to face me toward the mirror, she¡¯s doing a good job.


    ¡°I imagine you¡¯re wondering what happened,¡± Jeff finally says, breaking the silence.


    ¡°I can¡¯t deny I¡¯m curious.¡±


    ¡°I had an unfortunate miscalculation in my programming,¡± he says. His voice is almost monotone. ¡°I was attempting to enable my cloud to take on additional responsibilities with regard to my personal maintenance.¡±


    ¡°You tried to give yourself a haircut with your nanobots and you had a bug in the code?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I would appreciate it if you would not mention it to the others. I have something of a reputation to maintain.¡±


    ¡°My lips are sealed.¡±


    I¡¯m not even sure who I would tell. Evan and the girls, I guess. But if Jeff wants me to keep it secret, I don¡¯t see a downside to doing him a solid.


    ¡°Your discretion is applauded, brother.¡± He settles back into silent waiting. I think that¡¯s more words than I¡¯ve ever heard from him in one sitting.


    ¡°Noah, I was going to offer you a mani and pedi along with your cut,¡± Allison¡¯s cheerful voice chimes in, ¡°but as you can see we have a little bit of an emergency. If you want to come back later for some nail care¡­¡±


    I¡¯ve never had either of those things, and I¡¯m not entirely sure what all they involve. ¡°Not a problem,¡± I assure her, ¡°and I¡¯m fine trimming my own nails.¡±


    ¡°If you say so. Now, let¡¯s give you the full look.¡± She turns me to the wall mirror and holds a smaller one behind me so I can see the front and back of my new haircut.


    ¡°Looks great, Allison. Thanks.¡±


    She peels off the cape and I get up. ¡°Do I tip you or something? I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have any cash, but maybe I can put in a request on the purchasing system?¡±


    She laughs. ¡°Honey, I make more here in a month than I would anywhere else in a year with the best tips in the world.¡±


    This place is so weird. Wait. No. Happy thoughts.


    They definitely have everything I could ever need here. Life on the campus of the Butler Institute is so great and amazing. I can¡¯t wait to get back to my room so I can put on my headset and keep training hard so I can help Father save the world.

 Thu 06/02 11:47:24 PDT and 13:04:06 PDT

    Thu 06/02 11:47:24 PDT


    SynTech OS v.3.0.1.4375


    IMPLANT INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    ¡°Can you hear me Noah? The anesthesia should be wearing off any time now.¡±


    The voice sounds far away. I try to move my head to look toward it, but my muscles don¡¯t respond. Maybe it''s just as well. My eyes don¡¯t seem to be working either.


    ¡°Ah, another narrator. Wonderful. I see that your close association with Evan has been good for you. I¡¯ve encouraged your other siblings to do the same, but none of them have taken to it quite like he did.¡±


    Right. It was Evan¡¯s idea to write everything down. I guess you can read this then, Father?


    ¡°Only for a few more minutes while I do some final diagnostic checks. You¡¯ll be pleased to hear that the operation appears to be a resounding success. From the feedback readings, it looks like the implant I customized for you is working perfectly. Bear with me for a moment as I finish this up.¡±


    I breathe in and out slowly, letting myself wake all the way up. I¡¯m still blind, and strapped down, but I can get my lips to move a little. My mouth feels so dry.


    ¡°Yes, the muscle relaxants should be wearing off as well. Apologies for the dry mouth, it¡¯s a side effect of the medication that keeps you from moving during the procedure. But I¡¯m done now. All systems double-checked. Let¡¯s get you unstrapped.¡±


    I hear his footsteps, then feel the straps loosen. Father¡¯s hand touches my face, pulling at one eyelid then doing the same with the other.


    ¡°Excellent. Are you ready to get started with your part?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I force out with just a little slurring.


    ¡°Good, good! Let¡¯s get your vision back up and running then. Hold on, let me connect this.¡±


    I hear him step away, then the clack of his mechanical keyboard.


    My world goes from black to white. An infinite, blank expanse filling everything. Then the words I¡¯ve been typing begin to appear in clear, dark letters.


    ¡°Does everything look right?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I answer, my tongue and jaw feeling more normal now. ¡±The overlay is showing up now, but I can¡¯t see anything else.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Just as it should be at this point. As we¡¯ve discussed, the console will be your primary interface with the implant. It¡¯s around now that I would ask you to test the text input, but you¡¯ve already demonstrated an admirable mastery of that. I¡¯m enabling the passthrough now, so your standard vision should appear behind the overlay. Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Ready.¡±


    The vast field of white behind the text melts away to reveal the hanging lights and ceiling above me. The console overlay rests on top of everything I see. It¡¯s so much like the simulator that I reach with a clumsy hand to make sure there¡¯s nothing on my face. Nothing. The thing is inside my brain now.


    ¡°Indeed it is,¡± Father agrees, reading my written thoughts off of his screen. ¡°And my, I think you may have committed to narration even more than Evan did. I¡¯m impressed with your fluency. I don¡¯t think any of your siblings were this fast at typing when we did their installations, even with twice as much time to prepare.¡±


    Well, I had a good teacher. Evan¡¯s been a great help.


    ¡°Indeed. I love the way he has taken you under his wing. Well, let me get you disconnected and your narration can be yours alone until we start setting up sensor triggers later today.¡±


    DEBUG INTERFACE TERMINATED


    I turn my head slowly toward Father¡¯s desk and see him holding the disconnected end of a cable and a small black device. He sets them both down and comes my way.


    ¡°Ready to sit up now?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I tell him. ¡°Can I get a drink?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he says, putting his hands under my shoulders and helping me into a sitting position. I flex my arms slowly as the strength returns to them. ¡°Let¡¯s make sure the command interface works first though. Go ahead and test with any command. Maybe something in the settings.¡±


    I poke into the settings and switch the display to dark mode. The text and background of the console overlay reverse colors, leaving the overlay black with white letters. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s working,¡± I report. ¡°I was a little worried that I¡¯d gone blind. You didn¡¯t tell me that I wouldn¡¯t be able to see.¡±


    ¡°I apologize,¡± he says. ¡°It does help with the transition to have an opaque console covering everything at first. I learned that with Chad when he received his implant.¡±


    ¡°Equilibrium issues?¡±


    ¡°He missed the emesis bag. It took me a week to get the smell out of the lab,¡± he chuckles. ¡°One note. I see you¡¯re still twitching your hand when you use the input, which is certainly natural at this point since you are still using it like you did the glove. The sensors in your motor cortex are very sensitive, much more so than the physical sensors in the training rig. You shouldn¡¯t need more than just the will to move the muscle. In time, you should be able to type without moving your hand at all.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± I answer, still twitching my fingers as I type.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Excellent, Noah,¡± he says proudly. ¡°I must tell you, this is the smoothest input integration I¡¯ve ever done. You are a natural!¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Father.¡±


    He claps his hand on my shoulder and helps me to my feet.


    ¡°I think you are safe to take a little break.¡± He glances down at his watch. ¡°And my, it is almost lunch time. Why don¡¯t you get that drink you wanted and a bite from the cafeteria, if you are up for it. Here, take your phone. The implant can¡¯t do much without that.¡±


    He hands me the device. It¡¯s the size of a deck of playing cards, with no buttons on it.


    ¡°Not much of a phone,¡± I comment, turning it over a couple of times. ¡°Does it even make calls?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, no. It¡¯s not a phone, but that¡¯s the parlance our engineers have been using for the implant¡¯s external appliance. It¡¯s a simplified version of the upcoming SynTech smartphone we¡¯ll be releasing commercially next year, but without the screen or touch interface that the final model will include. All the processing for your cloud is done on this device. Obviously, it wouldn¡¯t do to perform any serious computations in the implant itself. The inside of your skull is hardly conducive to heat dissipation.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense.¡±


    ¡°One more note: for security reasons, the phone doesn¡¯t network with anything but your implant for now. When we get to setting up your nanobot cloud, the phone will interface with your bots as well, again providing the processing power that they need. The port on the device is for my diagnostic use only, please don¡¯t connect it to anything. Ever. Other than the specifications of the nanobots themselves, the software on this device is the most closely guarded secret of both the Butler Institute and the SynTech Corporation. It is critical that it never be exposed.¡±


    He gives me his serious look. So that¡¯s why my sibs still have to type on keyboards in the lab. Their built-ins won¡¯t connect to external computers. It¡¯s a good call from a security perspective. I wouldn¡¯t want anything in my skull to be hackable, and there¡¯s nothing more secure than a closed system. I suppose that means that I¡¯m going to need to go back to regular typing for my school work. Hope my fingers still remember how.


    ¡°Understood, Father. Never connect the phone to anything.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now off you go. Meet me back here in half an hour and we¡¯ll get started on the next stage.¡±


    Thu 06/02 13:04:06 PDT


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    ¡°There we go,¡± Father says, snugging the cable from the server rack into my phone and stepping over to where I¡¯m sitting on the operating table. ¡°Let¡¯s walk you through setting up some sensor triggers. Go ahead and turn on your implant¡¯s diagnostic display.¡±


    DIAGNOSTIC MODE


    The moment I enter the command a full color three-dimensional map of a brain appears in a new window in the center of my field of vision. The model slowly rotates to let me see it from all angles.


    ¡°I¡¯m seeing it. Is that my brain? Live?¡±


    ¡°Excellent observation, Noah. Indeed it is. Your implant continuously monitors neural activity, and this is the realtime visualization of that data. Now, we¡¯re going to use this interface to set up a simple sensor and a trigger to go with it. Let¡¯s see how well you remember our talks. Remind me what a sensor trigger does, please.¡±


    ¡°A sensor in the implant monitors the activity of specific groups of neurons. If the sensor is bound to a trigger, the trigger¡¯s function gets activated when the sensor detects the activity. ¡±


    ¡°Excellent. And why might that be important?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the easiest way to get a function to run. It¡¯s why my siblings have been waving their hands around when they do things with their clouds. If I put a sensor on the motor cortex regions for each of my fingers flexing, I can get ten different commands to run just by moving my fingers one at a time. If I mix and match combinations of fingers, I can get thousands of different triggers just with those ten sensors. So, anything I can program the bots to do, I can set off with a gesture.¡±


    ¡°Good. You understand the basic theory, now let¡¯s put it into practice. I¡¯m zooming in on your primary motor cortex for you. Let¡¯s set up a simple trigger using your index finger. First, select the menu option to create a group.¡± I flick with my eyes until I find it, then click it with an eye focus. ¡°Good. Now, flex your finger back and forth in a steady rhythm and watch the colors in the visualization. You should see some sections lighting up in time with your flexing.¡±


    I start moving my finger back and forth. There¡¯s a lot of activity going on all over, even though I¡¯m not trying to move any other parts of my body, but after a few dozen flexes, I see the spot in my curved motor cortex that¡¯s lighting up in time with the motion.


    ¡°Found it.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Go ahead and select it.¡±


    I aim and eyeclick, getting the first cluster of neurons highlighted. The software does the rest, automatic outlining where the brain cells are acting together once I identify it.


    ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Father looks at me proudly. It makes me feel a little like a kid who just learned to ride a bike. ¡°Excellent. Now assign it a name, a descriptive one.¡±


    I type in RIGHT-INDEX-FINGER for the sensor¡¯s name and give Father a smile and a nod.


    ¡°Congratulations. You just defined your first sensor. Now, bind it to a command. You remember how?¡±


    I open up the binding interface and connect the sensor up to a simple log command that should report that ¡°my finger just moved.¡± The log command isn¡¯t useful by itself, but it should make it easy to check that the binding is right. I flex the finger to test it out.


    my finger just moved.


    ¡°It¡¯s working.¡±


    my finger just moved.


    my finger just moved.


    It fires every time I flex it.


    ¡°Good,¡± Father beams, looking at his screens and checking my work. ¡°Now you probably don¡¯t want to see that log statement every time you move your hand, so go ahead and unbind the sensor from the function.¡±


    It takes me a second to find the control for that in the binding interface, but once I do it¡¯s easy to remove the connection from the sensor to the logging command. The binding disappears from Father¡¯s screen and his smile widens.


    ¡°Excellent work! Now, I want you to take some time over the next few weeks to practice with this. Set up sensors to anything that triggers consistent brain activity. Start with the motor neurons until you get comfortable with the process, then branch out however you want to.¡± He waves his hands emphatically as he explains. I can tell he¡¯s excited about this. ¡°You¡¯ll even be able to hook up sensors to the brain stem so you can trigger functions from involuntary or unconscious actions. Breathing, heartbeat, almost anything.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. I¡¯m excited to get to work on it.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. I¡¯m going to disconnect the diagnostic gear now so your brain will be all yours again. Just let me know if you have any problems with the implant. Especially watch for any unusual headaches. If you have any issues, let me know right away and we¡¯ll get it sorted out. I don¡¯t expect any problems, since the new implant hardware is extremely safe, but we can¡¯t be too careful.¡±


    I nod and he steps over to his desk and pulls the plug from the phone that¡¯s not a phone.


    DEBUG INTERFACE TERMINATED


    He steps over and hands it to me. ¡°Take the rest of the day off to get some rest, son. Make sure to keep the phone with you, the range on the connection is just a few feet. When you feel up to it, go ahead and play with your new toy. See what you can come up with. With your natural aptitude, I bet you will surprise us all.¡±


    ¡°I will Father. I promise you that.¡±

 Thu 06/02 19:24:13 PDT and Fri 06/03 16:32:51 PDT

    Thu 06/02 19:24:13 PDT


    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely sure he can¡¯t read what I write when I¡¯m not hooked on the leash?¡±


    ¡°Positive,¡± Evan says, shifting on the couch. ¡°Like I told you, I write down all my thoughts, and I mean all my thoughts. If he could read back through my journaling, he and I would have had some very uncomfortable conversations by now.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    He gives me a long look. ¡°You really want to know?¡±


    ¡°Sure. How bad could it be?¡±


    ¡°Bad enough that he would have said something.¡±


    ¡°Right. What, you described all your fantasies of what you¡¯d like to do with the lunch counter girls?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I won¡¯t deny that there¡¯s some of that, but that¡¯s not what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    ¡°Come on man, just tell me already.¡±


    He laughs at my persistence, then glances around to make sure there¡¯s no one else in earshot. The only other people in the common room are a trio of little kids playing a video game on the other end of the room, and they have the sound up high enough there¡¯s no way they can hear anything we¡¯re saying.


    ¡°Fine, but you can¡¯t tell anyone. I occasionally think some pretty unflattering thoughts about our illustrious progenitor, and I capture them in explicit terms. If he¡¯d seen any of that, we would have had some words, I promise. He only sees what you write while the cable is connected. I dug into the technical specs. The log storage is encrypted so that only you can access it. Some biometric security thing. Once it¡¯s stored, it¡¯s locked. He can only see the live feed before it goes into storage, and only when you¡¯re wired up.¡±


    I breathe a sigh of relief. A month of making it look like I was writing down every thought while constantly praising that murderous bastard has been the hardest part of this whole experience. When he dissects the training rig¡¯s storage, all he¡¯ll see about me is exactly what I want him to see: the perfect lost son come back at last to his father¡¯s embrace. Stealing a few minutes to write my real thoughts in my journal at the end of the day when I could finally take the thing off was the only thing that kept me sane. Now I can finally be honest with myself again. At least, I can when I¡¯m not in the lab.


    ¡°So what¡¯s your beef with him?¡± I ask. ¡°I thought everyone here worshiped at the altar of paternity.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got my reasons,¡± he rumbles. ¡°But tell me how things went in there. You were in and out fast. Everyone else took days for the install.¡±


    The abrupt subject change tells me that Evan isn¡¯t going to talk about it no matter how much I press. I let it go for now, even though I¡¯m dying of curiosity.


    ¡°He said something about the version I have being newer and safer. Apparently it''s faster to install too.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s cool. Where are your stitches? I want to see. Does he still go behind the ears with the new one?¡±


    ¡°Stitches?¡± I ask, feeling behind my ears. Nothing there. ¡°He didn¡¯t even cut me, I don¡¯t think. I mean, I was out when he did the surgery, but I would have noticed by now.¡±


    ¡°Then how did he¡­¡±


    He trails off, looking confused for a moment. Then he smiles. ¡°Wait. He did the whole thing with the medical bots. The bots are the implant. You¡¯re the world¡¯s first human-nanobot hybrid. We gotta tell Louise about this, she¡¯s going to love it.¡±


    Medical bots? The nanobots come in different flavors? I have so much to learn about this tech. At least now I¡¯m starting to get answers.


    Fri 06/03 16:32:51 PDT


    I look down at my hand, forcing it to stay still as I write this. Now that I¡¯ve had more practice, entering text here is faster and easier than it was with the glove. I can type to the console almost as fast as I can think of the words. Evan says it only took him a few weeks of recording every thought after he got his implant before it just became automatic. I still haven¡¯t mastered doing anything that requires my left hand and writing to the console at the same time, but Evan says that will come with practice too.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Time to create more muscle sensors. My siblings seem to mostly use their hands, but I don¡¯t see any reason my whole body shouldn¡¯t be rigged up.


    DIAGNOSTIC MODE


    The brain display pops up. I flex my right shoulder back and forth and find the sections of my motor cortex that light up in time with the motion. I tag them with a label and move on to my bicep.


    ¡°Hey, Noah. What are you up to?¡± Marc says as he opens the door and wanders into my room. I don¡¯t mind when Evan just comes in, but I wish Marc would knock. My fault for not locking it. That always slips my mind when I come in, maybe because Mom never let me have a lock on my bedroom door back home.


    ¡°Hey, Marc. Knock much?¡±


    He gets a sheepish look on his face and goes back to the door and knocks on it before coming right back in. I sigh. I don¡¯t want to hate him¡ªI know he¡¯s trying to be my friend¡ªbut it¡¯s hard not to. I¡¯ve even sort of forgiven him for wrecking my only picture of Mom, but I still don¡¯t want to hang out with him. He¡¯s just so annoying, even when he¡¯s not actively screwing things up.


    ¡°Hey, Noah. What are you up to?¡± he repeats.


    ¡°Testing out my new implant,¡± I answer. ¡°Trying to get my motor sensors mapped. I don¡¯t know why these don¡¯t just come standard.¡±


    Marc laughs like I told a joke. ¡°You can¡¯t tell exactly which neurons match up to which movements until you try it. You can kind of map out general areas, but every brain is different. You don¡¯t understand this stuff at all, do you?¡±


    I really don¡¯t want to hear condescension from the kid who can still barely code.


    ¡°This hasn''t all been spoonfed to me since I was born, so no. I don¡¯t have years of training in neuroscience. I¡¯ve been busting my butt playing catch up since I got here.¡±


    I give him my best cold glare. Maybe he¡¯ll take the hint and leave me alone.


    ¡°Hey, sorry. Easy, brother,¡± he says, oblivious. He puts his hand on my arm in what I¡¯m sure he thinks is a comforting gesture. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to help you out.¡±


    I brush his hand away. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll be sure to let you know when I need your super helpful help.¡±


    ¡°So did you get your phone hooked up to a cloud yet?¡± he continues, still clueless. Does he not get sarcasm? ¡°Or is it just hooked to the implant now?¡±


    He comes over to my desk, picks up my tablet, and starts fiddling with it.


    ¡°Just the implant.¡± I snatch my tablet back. At least he has the good sense this time not to try to hold onto it. Why does he have to touch my stuff? He should have learned his lesson after the picture. ¡°Father said he still needs to gather more sensory feedback data first, whatever that means.¡±


    ¡°Well, let me know when you get your cloud. I can totally share all my code with you.¡±


    He puts his hand on my arm again. I have to restrain myself to keep from breaking a finger or two. Stay cool. I¡¯m the good son. I don¡¯t hit my siblings, though part of me wonders right now if I would have been any better than Chad about beating on Marc if I¡¯d grown up here.


    ¡°Marc,¡± I say as calmly as I can. ¡°Your hand is on my arm. Remember how we talked about personal space?¡±


    He pulls it back. ¡°Oh, yeah, sorry. Hey. Hey, Noah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Marc?¡± I sigh.


    ¡°There¡¯s something that I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you. When your mom died, did that make you, like, super sad? Like worse than having your nanny leave kind of sad?¡±


    I look at his face. Not even a hint of malice on it. He¡¯s genuinely trying to understand me in his own messed-up way.


    ¡°Well, Marc,¡° I say slowly, ¡°I¡¯ve never had a nanny, so it¡¯s hard for me to compare. But when my Mom died, it was like I died. Only worse, because I had to keep on living without her. If losing your nanny was like that, then I don¡¯t know, maybe it¡¯s similar.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that when she left. I just missed her a lot, and my new nanny wasn¡¯t the same.¡±


    The weirdness of this place crashes down on me again. ¡°Marc?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Noah?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the kind of question you should ask people.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± he asks. No shame, just surprise. ¡°Cause on Hillside last season, Sam¡¯s dad died, and he had this whole talk about how he felt about it with Marsha, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe don¡¯t take your social cues from stupid teen dramas.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not stupid! It¡¯s so good!¡±


    I sigh again. ¡°Sure. Whatever you say.¡± I¡¯m done with this conversation. ¡°Can I have my room back now?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± Marc answers, his face confused. ¡°It¡¯s always been your room. I mean, except before you were here, then they kept it empty because¡ª.¡±


    ¡°Marc!¡± I interrupt. ¡°Will you please leave?¡±


    ¡°Sure, yeah,¡± he says, his head lowering. ¡°I needed to go do some stuff anyway. Really busy today. Really busy.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He leaves. Finally. I lock the door behind him. I shouldn¡¯t hate him. He means well. I know he does. Breathe, calm, breathe.


    Instead of getting calm, I feel tears welling up. I thought I was past this, but apparently all it takes is a little prodding and I¡¯m crying about Mom again. The slowly-rotating view of my brain is still open in my overlay and I¡¯m seeing some new activity. I might as well take advantage of this moment. I¡¯m not sure when I¡¯ll see it again. I set up a sensor on the part of my brain in charge of the tear ducts.

 Sat 06/04 09:04:14 PDT and 20:52:39 PDT

    Sat 06/04 09:04:14 PDT


    I feel a tickling sensation as Father¡¯s bots swarm around me and fasten all the restraints except the ones on my head. This is the first time I¡¯ve seen him use his cloud. He doesn¡¯t wave his hands or even look at me as he straps me down. He must have some other control system, different from what I¡¯ve seen my siblings use. He¡¯s standing at his desk, clacking at his keyboard and looking back and forth across his several screens. He turns and picks up my phone. He¡¯s about to attach the cable to plug it into his rack of servers.


    Let¡¯s check something.


    Hey Father, can you read this? I really need to talk to you about Chad. It¡¯s important. I think he might be suicidal.


    The plug enters the phone.


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    ¡°Let¡¯s get started, Noah,¡± Father says, giving me a friendly smile. ¡°Now, parts of this might hurt, or make you nauseous, or give you pleasant sensations. That¡¯s all normal during the calibration process. Just call out if it¡¯s too much, would you?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    He turns back to his screen and I see him check on all my vitals before his fingers dance on the keys some more. He glances at the window connected to my console log, reads my narration, and smiles again.


    Hi, Father.


    ¡°Hello to you too, son,¡± Father says. ¡°Glad you¡¯ve been keeping up the live journal, as your brother calls it. Now, let¡¯s get to work. I¡¯m going to be sending stimuli to different areas in your parietal and anterior frontal lobes today. Each event should approximate some sensory input. Touch, taste, pressure, heat, cold, and so on. You are going to feel like you are being poked, prodded, or pinched on various parts of your skin. You¡¯ll taste and smell things. Just remember that even if it feels like something is cutting or burning, you are in no danger. Your brain is being tricked into feeling those things by the implant under my direction.¡±


    ¡°I can handle a little pain,¡± I assure him.


    Father chuckles. ¡°I¡¯ll try to keep it bearable. The point of this exercise is to gather data to customize the implant¡¯s feedback so you can effectively control your cloud later on. As we proceed, please verify that each of these stimuli do what I expect to your individual neural physiology. You will do this by adding sensors for each one like you did for the motor cortex in our last session. Once we¡¯re done, you¡¯ll have a nice, rich vocabulary to develop your own controls, and I¡¯ll have the data that I need. Make sure to be descriptive with your sensor names so that you can remember what each one means.¡±


    ¡°Name each sensation as it comes,¡± I confirm. ¡°Ready when you are.¡±


    An invisible force pushes against my head, turning it so I¡¯m facing the ceiling lights. The last strap tightens itself across my forehead with the faint tickle of the nanobots¡¯ motion and I¡¯m completely immobilized.


    ¡°Here, let me point you in this direction so you can see what¡¯s going on.¡± The table beneath me rotates and swivels until I¡¯m facing toward Father¡¯s desk again. ¡°This is a good learning experience for you. Comfortable?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, this is fine.¡±


    ¡°Good. The first stimulus should be coming in now.¡±


    A small, sharp pain hits my right forearm. I would have sworn I was actually being stabbed there with a needle. As quickly as the sensation came, it disappears. I flick open the brain display and see the area highlighted where the implant delivered its tiny electric impulse. I set up the sensor name SHARP-POKE-RIGHT-ARM.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Father says, pointing to one of his monitors. ¡°As expected. The next one is coming now.¡±


    Another sharp stab, this time in the upper arm. Looks like I¡¯m going to need to be more specific with the names I choose for these things. Using medical terminology I¡¯ve been picking up in Mr. Johnson¡¯s class, I name this new one SHARP-POKE-UPPER-BICEPS-BRACHII.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± I say. ¡°I need to rename that first one. Sorry.¡±


    I quickly rename the first sensor to SHARP-POKE-FLEXOR-CARPI-RADIALIS.


    ¡°Excellent use of the proper names of the muscles, Noah. The more specific you make your variable names, the more easily you¡¯ll be able to use these later. Get ready, the next one is coming.¡±


    A scalding sensation covers the back part of my left foot, like someone just thrust my leg into a fire. BURNING-LEFT-ANTERIOR-HINDFOOT joins my list of sensors.


    ¡°Interesting. That¡¯s usually higher up on the leg than that,¡± Father says, scrutinizing the live scan of my brain on his screen. ¡°You¡¯re sure you¡¯re not feeling that up on your calf?¡±


    ¡°I felt it right above the heel, just below the achilles tendon.¡±


    He makes some adjustments. ¡°Well, each brain is unique. Even with as close as our genetic bond makes us, there are always some minor differences.¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m special.¡±


    ¡°You are indeed, Noah,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°Here, let me try this.¡±


    The burning sensation crawls up to my ankle.


    BURNING-LEFT-ANTERIOR-ACHILLES-TENDON


    ¡°Excellent. I think I¡¯m beginning to see the nuances of your particular biology,¡± he says, clicking and typing. ¡°If I¡¯m right this should give you a cold sensation in the same area.¡±


    I start to feel it. It¡¯s intense, like someone is pressing dry ice into my skin.


    ¡°Yeah, got that,¡± I reply. I set up a sensor for it.


    ¡°Good! Let me see what¡¯s going on over here.¡±


    I almost laugh. That one is much more pleasant. TICKLE-RIGHT-SCAPULA.


    ¡°Now, this one might hurt a little.¡±


    It does. I wince at the pain, though it only lasts an instant.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Father says. ¡°Please remember, none of this can actually hurt you. It¡¯s just your brain interpreting a minute electrical signal. Go ahead and name it.¡±


    STABBING-PAIN-RIGHT-EXTERNAL-OBLIQUES


    ¡°Apologies for this next one, but at least it shouldn¡¯t be painful.¡±


    I feel violated as the sensation kicks in.


    ¡°Do you really need to map that?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Noah. Just set up the sensor for it. The calibrations require a very full range of feedback.¡±


    I ponder for a moment how to register this one.


    LIKE-THAT-TIME-I-CLIMBED-THE-ROPE-IN-GYM-CLASS


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Father laughs as he sees the sensor name pop onto his screen. ¡°Oh goodness. Points for originality, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s from an old movie. One that Mom quoted a lot.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. I remember that habit of hers now. She really was an amazing woman. I¡¯m sorry again for your loss. If you ever feel like you need to talk about her, I¡¯m here for you.¡±


    I¡ª


    You¡ª


    ¡°No, I¡¯m OK. Accidents happen. But her dying brought me here to you. To the Institute. I miss her, but I¡¯m part of something amazing here.¡±


    Over his shoulder, I see blotches of color explode on his map of my brain in the limbic system as the rush of emotions surges. I take a deep breath, hold it, and release it. The activity recedes.


    ¡°I understand,¡± he says, his voice full of caring and sympathy. ¡°Do you need some time? We can take a break now if you need.¡±


    ¡°Yes please, if that would be OK. I could use a little air.¡±


    DEBUG INTERFACE TERMINATED


    He brings the table back to flat and the straps release me. Once I¡¯m loose, he hands me my phone. That was close, I almost failed in my censorship. Evan is right about Father not being able to see what I write when I¡¯m not connected. If he¡¯d been able to see the message I dropped about Chad being suicidal, there¡¯s no way he wouldn¡¯t have said something. I¡¯m just glad he wasn¡¯t paying attention to his screen while my emotional centers were flaring. I¡¯m not sure if he can tell that was rage exploding there, not sadness. I can explain that feeling away, but I¡¯d really rather not have the conversation.


    I head out and take a couple of laps around the commons, getting my feelings under wraps. Thanks Mom, for teaching me to control my emotions from a young age. Did you do it to prepare me to face this? How much of Father¡¯s institute did you know about?


    Once I get myself good and calm, I go back into the Research Center and follow the now-familiar hallways back to Father¡¯s lab.


    ¡°Feeling better?¡± Father asks, as I come through the lab door.


    ¡°Yeah, thanks for that.¡±


    ¡°Anytime you need a break, please do let me know. We can take this at your pace.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it, but I¡¯m ready to get back to it.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he says, strapping me back in on the table using his hands this time. I keep myself from flinching at his touch. ¡°We do still have a lot to do.¡±


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    ¡°Are you ready for the next one?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yeah, go ahead.¡±


    ¡°This one should trigger a taste sensation,¡± he says as he clicks on another part of the map of my brain on his screen.


    My mouth suddenly puckers as I feel like my tongue is covered in lemon juice. I add SOUR-FLAVOR to my growing list.


    ¡°Remember that you can nest objects inside of other objects in your console,¡± Father instructs. ¡°Use a dot to separate the parent object from the child, just like with object-oriented programming languages. I would recommend setting up a top-level feedback object to help you distinguish neural activity caused by proactive efforts from activity caused by stimulation. I organize mine by the basic senses, then by the sensation. Like this.¡±


    He types FEEDBACK.TASTE.SOUR-FLAVOR on one of his screens.


    ¡°That makes sense.¡± I rename the sensor like he said.


    ¡°Very good. Make sure you continue to work hard on your software programming assignments. I know it¡¯s all still new to you, but understanding those principles is critical to everything you¡¯ll be able to do with the cloud. You can go back later and fix the names for the sensors we¡¯ve already done.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Thanks,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to do that.¡±


    ¡°On to the next one then.¡± He smiles. ¡°Only a few thousand left to go.¡±


    Sat 06/04 20:52:39 PDT


    ¡°We are well on our way, Noah,¡± Father says as he unfastens the restraints. ¡°I think two more days will be enough to take all the measurements that I need to calibrate your implant.¡±


    ¡°That sounds good,¡± I say absently, still dazed from the deluge of sensations. I¡¯ve lived at least six lifetimes'' worth of experiences while strapped to the table. I consider standing up, but that feels like a little too much effort right now. I push myself to a sitting position instead.


    ¡°Take as long as you need, son,¡± Father says as he locks his workstation and starts coiling up the debugging cable. ¡°Are you all right to see yourself back to your room? I have an appointment to see to in a few minutes, but I can have someone help you if you need.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m good.¡± My head is starting to clear. I¡¯m pretty sure I can make it across campus, though it might be a slow trip. ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Make sure to get plenty of rest tonight. We¡¯ll start again at 0800 sharp tomorrow. And please make sure to close the lab door behind you as you leave. My security folks are always so insistent that we keep this room secured.¡±


    I nod and he heads out, leaving me alone. What kind of appointment does he need to take care of at this time of day? I shake my head. Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m just glad the grueling poking and prodding of my synapses is over for now.


    Two more days. I can do this. Marc told me it took him six days to get through his calibration, so I¡¯m ahead of his schedule. I wonder if I¡¯m on track to beat Chad¡¯s time, too. I know it¡¯s not a competition, but I love the look that smug jerk gets whenever I beat him at anything.


    Jeff holds the record at two days. My version of the implant is different from the ones my siblings have, so maybe it¡¯s not a fair comparison. Mine is supposed to have more connections. Even if I¡¯m underperforming compared to Jeff, I¡¯m alright with that. His arms and legs look like they¡¯re nearly atrophied because he uses his cloud for everything. Maybe once I get my cloud it¡¯ll seem more normal, but none of the others do anything like what he does. He¡¯s weird, even by Butler Institute standards.


    I slide off the table, landing unsteadily. I¡¯m so glad there¡¯s no class or homework due tomorrow. I don¡¯t think I could handle having my brain probed and doing Mr. Johnson¡¯s assignment on chemical redox reactions on the same day.


    I glance around. Is there anything here I should check out while Father¡¯s away? If I could log into his computer, I¡¯m sure it would be worth poking around in there. I suspect that¡¯s the best place to look for something that could incriminate him. But the screen is locked and I don¡¯t know his password. In my hacking adventures, I found out that these lab servers are disconnected from the rest of the network. It''s an entirely closed system, not connected to anything outside of this room. I don¡¯t know where I¡¯d even begin at guessing Father¡¯s password. He¡¯s smart enough that he wouldn¡¯t make it anything obvious. Besides, there¡¯s that security camera up there, always watching. Better to look like the good son and leave Father¡¯s fancy toys alone.


    I walk to the door, only stumbling a little on my way there. I step through the threshold and pull the heavy reinforced steel closed behind me. I hear whirring and clicks as the thing locks itself up. They don¡¯t mess around with their security on this side of the campus.


    I walk a couple of laps around the moonlit commons to get my head on straight before I hit the dorms. The exercise and fresh desert air are exactly what I need. Two more days. How much worse could it get?


    I head into the dorm¡¯s common room. It¡¯s near enough to curfew that the cavernous space is mostly clear. Louise is sitting on one of the couches with that red-haired girl from one of the younger classes who always seems to be wearing headphones and bopping her head to a beat. Lisa, I think.


    ¡°Hey Noah,¡± Louise greets me. ¡°Congrats on surviving day one of calibration. You look as wasted as I felt after mine. I guess the new hardware doesn¡¯t make this part any easier.¡±


    I come over and grab the armchair next to her corner of the couch. Lisa doesn¡¯t seem to notice I¡¯m there. Music seeps from her headphones. She¡¯s lost in a world of pure sound.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s been a mind-trip,¡± I answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m this exhausted after barely moving all day.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it was the same for all the rest of us. Your brain isn¡¯t used to getting this much action. It gets better, I promise. I mean, not during calibration, that all sucks, but once you¡¯re past that, living with the implant gets totally normal. Better than normal, even.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. Not the part about it still sucking for the next few days, but the rest. You know what I mean.¡±


    She laughs. ¡°I know exactly what you mean. I thought I was going to go crazy those first few days, stuck in the lab all day every day, getting my brain poked and prodded like I¡¯m some kind of guinea pig.¡±


    I want to laugh, but I only have the energy for a smile. Maybe we¡¯re all just guinea pigs to Father. ¡°Glad I¡¯m not the only one who felt that way.¡±


    ¡°Nah. We all did. But you know, sacrifices for the greater good and all of that. Can¡¯t save the world without the power to do it.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Save the world,¡± I say, trying not to sound sarcastic. ¡°For tonight, I¡¯ll settle for saving my sanity.¡±


    ¡°Go get some sleep. That helps a lot. Gives the system time to get used to things and sort out the neurons getting reallocated. You¡¯ll feel better in the morning.¡± She pauses, thinks for a moment, then frowns. ¡°Of course, then you¡¯ll go back to the lab, and you¡¯ll feel even worse, then the next day the same thing happens, but after you get through it all and sleep again, then you¡¯re good for real!¡± She ends with an exaggerated grin.


    I actually get a weak laugh out this time. ¡°Good to know I have more fun ahead of me before things level out.¡±


    ¡°Happy to help,¡± she says cheerfully. She gets up and grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet. She¡¯s surprisingly strong for someone so small.


    I give her and Lisa a wave goodbye, which Lisa doesn¡¯t notice, and trudge to the boys¡¯ wing. I¡¯m tempted to stop at Evan¡¯s door and hang out with him for a few, but I decide to listen to Louise and get to bed early. I usually stay up late, pushing myself with classwork, or my project, or trying to figure out how to destroy Father like he destroyed me. But with another day of simulated and stimulated probing tomorrow, I don¡¯t want to make this any harder on myself than I have to. I lock my door behind me, set an alarm, and crash into my bed.

 Sun 06/05 15:47:02 PDT and Mon 06/06 19:22:14 PDT

    Sun 06/05 15:47:02 PDT


    Another day of this down. I wonder if Father is trying to kill me with this thing, maybe see what the upper limits are for human tolerance of nanobot brain infestation. My head throbs.


    DIAGNOSTIC MODE


    I double check the real-time scan to make sure that I¡¯m not damaged anywhere. My brain activity is high all over, but I don¡¯t have any cerebral hemorrhages or burst aneurysms or anything dangerous. I¡¯m fine. I just need to not have my brain prodded for a while.


    On my way to the dorms, I see Evan¡¯s massive frame coming my way from the Learning Center. ¡°Hey, brother.¡± He gives me his usual broad smile. ¡°He let you out early today?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say as I close the distance between us. ¡°We made good time today, so we¡¯re going to finish up tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Nice. Want to go hit the rec room then?¡±


    ¡°Thanks, but I¡¯m beat. Maybe tomorrow?¡± I answer, wishing I felt up for it. I force a smile despite the throbbing pain in my skull.


    ¡°Heh, you do look wrecked. I remember my install,¡± he commiserates. ¡°That was a tough few days.¡±


    ¡°And Father just sits there grinning while he stabs and burns and strangles you,¡± I add. ¡°I know it isn¡¯t real, but it sure feels like it is. I think he enjoys the whole procedure.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I wanted to smack the old man when we did mine,¡± Evan says, glancing around. ¡°That¡¯s probably half the reason he has us strapped down.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised by the vehemence of his reply. The rest of our siblings look at Father like he¡¯s some kind of higher power. I smile a little more. I wonder if I laid out everything I know, could I get Evan on my side? No. I can¡¯t get my hopes up like that.


    ¡°Yeah, probably,¡± I agree.


    ¡°Anyway, go get some rest. I¡¯ll catch you later.¡± He sends me on my way with a friendly slap on the back. Evan¡¯s a good guy. He might be the only other sane one here.


    My headache surges, almost dropping me as I walk across the grass. I check the diagnostic again. Contrary to how it feels, I am not literally dying. The implant would notice if I were having a stroke or anything and flash all sorts of alarms. Part of me wants to head back to the lab, talk to Father about it, but I don¡¯t trust him not to probe me to death to make sure this implant works better on his real children. Besides, the evil old man is the last person I want to see right now.


    I¡¯m not even sure why I¡¯m having issues. Today wasn¡¯t that bad. This morning was all smells and tastes. I threw up once, but Father said that was normal. The afternoon was auditory hallucinations, which weren¡¯t too bad. The headache only started when he started poking around in the hippocampus and amygdala, and those look fine on the scan. Highly active, but fine.


    I¡¯ll just keep an eye on it. If the pain keeps up, I¡¯ll go back and see him.


    I head back to my dorm room and lay down in my bunk for a while. Not sleeping, just staring at the ceiling and watching my brain map change colors as my headache gradually dies down. I glance at the tablet on my desk to get the time before I remember that I have a clock in my head now. Dinner has started, but I¡¯m not hungry even though I skipped lunch and hurled my breakfast.


    I should go make my weekly call with Grammy and Gramps. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re worried about me. They always are. Gramps is going to push me again to come back home to Colorado and live with them. I can¡¯t do that, and I can¡¯t tell him why. I¡¯ll let them worry for another week. I feel a twinge of guilt, then a stronger pang of sorrow. I miss Mom.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe. Just like Mom used to say. I can handle this. I force myself up from my bunk. I need a change of scenery. I make my way out and down the hall. Halfway across the common room I feel a tap on one arm. I turn, but no one is there. It takes me a minute to see Andrea sitting on one of the couches across the room with her sketchbook on her lap and a pencil in one hand. She waves at me.


    ¡°Oh. Hey, Andrea.¡±


    Her large, expressive eyes twinkle as she smiles at me. She points at the seat next to her and waves me over. I guess she wants to hang out. I still feel awkward around Andrea. She¡¯s so tall, fit, and gorgeous, she could be a supermodel. And her looks are always amplified by the tricks she does with her cloud. Her hair is doing its anti-gravity thing again today, making her look like she¡¯s underwater. She¡¯s like the heroine of some magical princess cartoon.


    I walk over and take the offered seat. She gets a look of concentration across her impossibly beautiful face. I watch her in awkward silence for a moment as her eyes dart around and she flexes her long, slender fingers. A stylized picture of a brain with gears inside it forms in the air, then fades into a floating question mark.


    ¡°How¡¯s the implant coming?¡± I guess. She nods and smiles.


    ¡°Good, I think. Father said there weren¡¯t any problems with the hardware installation, and we just have one more day of calibration.¡±


    She nods and her fingers dance again. The geared-up brain reappears, then angry red lightning bolts appear and start poking into it. The question mark comes back.


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡±


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    She nods with a concerned look on her face.


    ¡°It¡¯s been fine.¡± She tilts her head and squints one eye. Of course she knows I¡¯m lying. ¡°OK. It sucks, and I got a killer headache at the end of today¡¯s session. It went away though, so I¡¯m good now. You don¡¯t need to worry about me.¡±


    She relaxes her face and gives me a pleased smile. Then she puts one finger up like she just remembered something. She opens her sketchbook and flips through the pages of pencil drawings. She tears one out and hands it to me. It¡¯s a drawing of me, sitting on a floor with one arm draped over a massive black dog. A Newfoundland. The detail on the drawing is amazing. It looks just like me, and amazingly, just like my old dog Zeus.


    ¡°You remembered? And you made this for me?¡± She nods vigorously. ¡°This is beautiful. Can I keep it?¡± She nods again. ¡°Thank you so much!¡±


    Her face beams. I need to get a frame or something for this, it¡¯s really good work. Maybe I can put it on my desk where the picture of Mom used to be. I still need to ask my grandparents for a new one of those, whenever I get up the nerve to call them again.


    ¡°Hey, while I¡¯ve got you here,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve got a few questions. You know how I''m getting my cloud set up soon?¡±


    She nods.


    ¡°Once I get it, could you teach me how you do your light and sound tricks? Like the images that you pop in the air and the music you do for your exercise routines in the mornings?¡±


    Her eyes light up, and she nods vigorously.


    ¡°You¡¯re the best,¡± I tell her. She wags a finger in front of her then points at me. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what that means.¡± She laughs silently, points at me again, and gives a double thumbs-up. ¡°You mean I¡¯m the best?¡± She nods. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but thanks.¡± It feels weird to get so much attention from someone who looks like her. I would have been way too shy to approach anyone like her back at my old school.


    ¡°Anyway, can we start with how your music works? I¡¯ve never heard a sound quite like that before.¡± She nods again, still smiling. She seems so happy that I¡¯m interested. ¡°My guess is that you do something that forces an air stream through some kind of restricted space, like when you whistle or blow into a bottle, but I don''t understand how you do that with bots. Want to show me how?¡±


    Her cloud swirls into action, spinning out diagrams and images into thin air. I¡¯m amazed at how this silent girl can explain things so clearly without uttering a word.


    Mon 06/06 19:22:14 PDT


    Technicolor swirls linger in the corners of my vision as I stagger from Father¡¯s lab. What a mind-trip. So many colors that don¡¯t exist in reality. At least we¡¯re done now. No more days spent strapped down on the table. Father has all the sensory feedback that he needs to customize a nanobot cloud for my own special brain.


    I grab a quick meal in the cafeteria just before it closes. The food isn¡¯t bad, but it''s as bland as usual. For a place as racially diverse as the campus, they eat a lot of white people food. And now that I have a few rotations of the menu behind me, it¡¯s getting boring fast. I wish I could get a good curry like the stuff from the takeout place down the street from my old house. Or better yet, some of the brisket from Gramps¡¯s restaurant. Man, I miss that place. I miss barbecue.


    I¡¯ve still got an hour before enforced study time starts. I poke my head into the dorm common room to see if Evan is there. No dice. I head to the Learning Center and hit the rec room. I need to blow off some steam anyway. Chad is over on the weight benches when I get there, lifting a couple of plates on either side of the bar with Phil spotting him. I look around for Evan, but he¡¯s not here either.


    ¡°Noah!¡± Marc greets me. ¡°How¡¯d it go? Did you lose your lunch again? I threw up like six times when we did the visuals.¡±


    Marc isn¡¯t the brother I would have picked to spend time with, but maybe beating him at something might be just what I need.


    ¡°No,¡± I answer. ¡°Just dizziness and what I always imagined an acid trip would be like. Is Evan around? I owe him a game of foosball.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s working on something with Louise up in the lab. But I¡¯ll play. I love foosball! One time I played with Chad against Louise and Andrea for like four hours. That was back when Andrea still talked. Andrea and I wanted to quit after like two games but we were down a game and Chad didn¡¯t want to let them win, so we kept doing two more and they kept winning one of them so we never got ahead so we kept playing. Then it was time for dinner and we were tied and we had to stop and I don¡¯t think Chad ever played again and I didn¡¯t want to play for a long time, but now I love it again and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Marc?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Noah?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just play.¡±


    He does seem to love the game. He pays enough attention to it that he even stops talking. That doesn¡¯t happen often, and it¡¯s nice. Turns out that he¡¯s bearable if there¡¯s a table between us and he¡¯s not jabbering. I still feel bad for not liking him. He¡¯s always so excited to see me, and he tries harder than any of them to be my friend. I can tell he doesn¡¯t mean to be a jerk. I think there¡¯s something wrong with his ability to filter. And it¡¯s hard to spend much time with someone who never shuts up.


    The game heats up, and I¡¯m twisting the handles fiercely. The pointers from Evan and the girls and the practice I¡¯ve put in are paying off. I think the only time I played this before I came to the Butler Institute was with Mom at an arcade that she used to take me to when I was a kid. That seems so far away now, a whole other life. Marc has more experience than I do, but he doesn¡¯t have the drive to win. I play hard and keep up with him, tying the game at nine to nine.


    ¡°Good game!¡± he cheers as I slam the final shot in. I feel irrationally irritated that he¡¯s so happy about being beaten.


    ¡°Yeah, I got lucky on that last one,¡± I say, trying to be more gracious than I feel. ¡°I think that¡¯s it for me tonight. I need to get some extra studying in. I¡¯ve got my regular classes back on tomorrow, and I¡¯ve got a lot to do to get ready.¡±


    I don¡¯t, really, since Father made sure I didn¡¯t have homework to worry about while we did the implant calibration, but it¡¯s the best I can come up with to politely ditch him.


    ¡°Was it hard when you didn¡¯t have teachers just for you?¡± Marc asks. ¡°I¡¯ve seen school on Hillside High and some other shows, but I don¡¯t really get it. How do you pay attention when you¡¯re always dating someone? That seems like it would be really distracting.¡±


    I sigh. This place is so weird. He really thinks that show is what the world outside is like. I wonder if my other sibs think the same thing. Maybe it¡¯s just more obvious with Marc since he asks every question that pops into his head.


    ¡°I keep telling you, brother, Hillside High isn¡¯t real life. Anyway, I¡¯ll see you later.¡± I give him a pat on the shoulder and start walking.


    ¡°OK, we can play more tomorrow after lunch if you want. I¡¯ll be here all afternoon except when I¡¯m working on my project to¡ª¡±


    He¡¯s probably still talking, but I¡¯m out of earshot now. Time to work some more on getting my cybernetically upgraded mind in order. There are still a whole lot of sensors I want to bind up, and I¡¯m feeling good enough to get some real work done tonight. I¡¯m going to be the best with this thing. I¡¯ve got to be. Gain Father¡¯s trust, find his secrets, bring him down.

 Tue 06/07 20:22:14 PDT and Wed 06/08 19:03:57 PDT

    Tue 06/07 20:22:14 PDT


    Evan¡¯s right. This journaling gets easier with practice. After just a few days of it, I hardly need to do more than think to get exactly what I want here. I¡¯ve got a computer in my brain. Well, in my pocket, but it¡¯s hooked to my brain so close enough. What else can I get this hardware to do for me besides control nanobots? The possibilities seem endless.


    I¡¯m thinking of adding some kind of database. I could make it do lookups automatically on whatever I write here. Like if I write down a name, I would get everything I know about them to pop up in a window in my overlay. A coursework load that¡¯s brutal now could become a piece of cake, giving me time for some proper plotting and scheming on how to find the evidence to bring down Father.


    Putting something like that together would be a lot of work though. Implementing a decent database would take forever if I have to write it myself without any standard libraries or anything. There are off-the-shelf open-source tools that I could hook up to do most of the work if I were on a computer hooked to the internet, but that doesn¡¯t help me get it into the implant phone where I actually want it. I could maybe look at the code and type it all in, but that would take forever, plus even with careful typing I¡¯d make so many transcription errors that I¡¯d have to spend months debugging it.


    Maybe I can plug the phone into one of the lab computers and just download code from the internet. I pull out the phone and examine its port. Hmm. It¡¯s nothing standard, definitely nothing that I have a cable for. It doesn¡¯t even have a charger cable, since it uses the same nanotech batteries as the bots that can self-charge using ambient heat. No luck there.


    The only way I know to connect with it is with the gear in Father¡¯s lab. Unfortunately, that bank-vault door only opens when Father goes inside. Maybe if Father leaves me alone in there again I can see if there¡¯s a spare cable in one of the cabinets. But then the security camera would catch me. No good.


    There¡¯s got to be a way to solve this. Maybe I just need another way of looking at it. I think I¡¯ll pick Jeff¡¯s brain tomorrow. He seems to be the best programmer out of my sibs. Plus, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d keep quiet about whatever I asked him. He owes me that for not ratting out his bad code that gave him a worse haircut.


    ¡°You seem especially contemplative tonight, brother,¡± Evan says, startling me. I was so lost in thought I didn¡¯t even notice that he had come into the common room. He flops down onto the couch next to my chair.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so.¡±


    I¡¯m tempted to talk to Evan about my idea, but since the big reason I want to do it is to cheat on all my classwork, I decide not to. I feel like he¡¯d get that out of me once we started talking about it. Evan¡¯s a straight shooter, and I¡¯m not sure he¡¯d be on board. I don¡¯t think he¡¯d report me or anything, but he¡¯d at least try to talk me out of it. Besides, he¡¯s one of the few people here whose opinion I care about, and I¡¯d just as soon not have him think less of me.


    ¡°Up for a game of something?¡± he asks, turning on one of the video game consoles.


    ¡°Only if that something has a lot of mindless shooting.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I was thinking, brother.¡± He tosses a controller onto my lap. ¡°Deathmatch incoming. Prepare to be fragged.¡±


    ¡°No chance, big man. You might as well give up now and save yourself the humiliation.¡±


    Twenty minutes later I¡¯m up on him, ten kills to his seven. Chad comes swaggering in through the big double doors, his workout clothes all sweaty from whatever he¡¯s been doing in the rec room.


    ¡°Come on, guys,¡± he says, giving us a patronizing look. ¡°Curfew time. You too, Becky and Jen,¡± he says louder. Two girls across the room turn off their screen and hop to their feet. I think they¡¯re from the class just younger than ours, but I have trouble keeping them all straight. Anyway, they head straight to the girls¡¯ wing. Evan and I keep on playing with Chad glaring at us until I get one more kill.


    ¡°You got lucky,¡± Evan says to me, shutting down the game.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I reply, handing him my controller and pointedly ignoring Chad standing there with his arms crossed. ¡°No skill involved there, just you lucking right into my shots every time.¡±


    ¡°Maybe just a tiny bit of skill,¡± he concedes.


    Chad looks down at his watch. I¡¯m not sure why, since he has a clock in his head like I do. ¡°And now you¡¯re past curfew.¡±


    ¡°As are you, brother,¡± Evan says, pushing past him.


    ¡°Good night, Chad,¡± I say, following Evan toward the hallway. ¡°Better get to your room or I¡¯ll have to report you for being up late. It¡¯s my duty as the oldest brother, you know.¡±


    Evan laughs. I leave Chad fuming behind me, which makes me smile all the way to my room.


    Wed 06/08 19:03:57 PDT


    ¡°So can it be done?¡± I ask Jeff. ¡°Is there any way to get code into the implant phone without typing it in through the console interface?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He keeps his eyes closed as he speaks. He still hasn¡¯t done so much as incline his head in my direction since I came into his room. Can he somehow see me with his eyes closed like that? ¡°We have an established procedure for it. You submit your tested code to Father, he verifies it is safe, and then he uploads it to your phone in his lab. You did not think that we retyped all the code that we wrote in class, did you?¡±


    That¡¯s exactly what I thought happened, but this makes more sense. ¡°No, of course not,¡± I lie.


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    ¡°But I gather from the way you phrased your query that you are interested in a less official channel.¡±


    ¡°Right. Less official.¡± I try to keep my voice casual. I don¡¯t want to make it obvious how emphatically I don¡¯t want Father involved. ¡°Something I could do on my own would be more what I¡¯m looking for.¡±


    He goes silent for a long time. I suppose that he¡¯s thinking, but with his blank facial expression, it¡¯s hard to tell. I notice some floating motes in the air of his room like the dust you might see in a beam of sunlight. Except that the sun is already down, and Jeff always keeps his window shades shut anyway. Must be nanobots. I wonder if I ever accidentally breathe them in as I walk around campus. That can¡¯t be good for you. I hope I don¡¯t get cancer from living here. I guess if I do, Father can just cure it. He¡¯s famous for that kind of thing.


    ¡°An interesting proposition,¡± Jeff finally says. ¡°Obviously, you would need to carefully vet all the code that you ingested from external sources, but I can see situations where the potential value of an unmonitored solution might outweigh the obvious security risks. There are things that we might want to work on at some point in the future that may push beyond the boundaries Father feels comfortable with. His sensibilities are clouded by his attachment to existing norms and customs.¡±


    I nod, not sure what he¡¯s talking about.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you agree,¡± he says. ¡°So many of us cling to Father himself more than to his ideals, whereas I think that even he would prefer that we attach ourselves to the ideals above the man.¡±


    He saw my nod. He can see with his eyes closed. Interesting. I wonder what he wants to do that Father wouldn¡¯t allow. Something weird or inhumane, probably. But if it gets him to help me, I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ll deal with whatever it is later.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± I agree, feeding his ego and trying my best to talk like he does. ¡°We should put the greater good above mundane considerations like societal conventions.¡±


    I nailed it. His mouth twitches up in a smile. It only lasts a moment, but it¡¯s a rare thing for him.


    ¡°So, how could we do it?¡±


    ¡°The most accessible route would be to use the implant¡¯s optical input as a text scanner system. I believe that would accomplish what you want. The labor involved would be significant though. There is no current mechanism in the implant software to add processing to the optical input. We would have to implement that. However, I have performed some preliminary research into something related. I was not planning to use it for text character recognition, but it might be adaptable for that purpose. It requires nanobots to work, not just the implant, but I could share the proof-of-concept code with you when you get your cloud installed. You would need to implement the image format conversion and optical character recognition on your own, but my initial research should make the task achievable.¡±


    ¡°By optical input are you talking about the data from our human eyes, or¡­¡±


    I make myself trail off, since I don¡¯t want to show my ignorance by mischaracterizing whatever he¡¯s doing to see with his eyes closed.


    ¡°The cloud visualization system, of course. Unless you are intentionally seeking out a much more complex challenge. Parsing the input from the biological systems would be far more difficult.¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll take the simpler route with the cloud visualization system.¡± Whatever that is.


    So, once I get my nanobots, I can leverage Jeff¡¯s code and whatever he¡¯s doing to see without eyes to use the bots as a text scanner. That¡¯s almost as good as being able to download things into the phone for what I was thinking of. Better in some ways. With this, I could scan in any text I see, whether it¡¯s on a screen or on paper.


    ¡°You¡¯re a genius Jeff,¡± I say, stroking his ego one more time. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He enjoys the praise, though he only gives the tiniest smile. I think his facial muscles are as weak as the rest of him, which makes sense since he moves his face almost as little as he moves the rest of his body.


    ¡°It does seem like a great deal of effort to go through, though. Especially given your very limited experience with software development. It would be much easier to use the established channels.¡± He opens his eyes for the first time since I came in the room and rolls them in my direction. The look is terribly disconcerting. ¡°You must have ideas on a grand scale for this effort to be worthwhile to you. I do hope you will share them with me at some point in the future. As I might one day be inclined to share some ideas of mine.¡±


    He clearly doesn¡¯t suspect that I¡¯m only working on a perfect digital memory and a homework cheating system, but I¡¯m not going to burst his bubble. I give him a conspiratorial smile instead. ¡°I look forward to a fruitful relationship of mutual collaboration.¡±


    He pauses a moment and his head finally moves as he gives me a small nod. Even that small movement seems to be assisted by his bots. The motion isn¡¯t natural.


    ¡°While we¡¯re talking about sharing code,¡± I add. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help noticing the routines you use for getting around. Would you mind sharing those with me as well?¡±


    He goes silent for another long minute. I wait patiently, breathing slowly. Jeff clearly won¡¯t be rushed on this or anything else.


    ¡°Most of us like to keep some tricks to ourselves,¡± he says when he speaks again. ¡°But given the rate I¡¯ve seen you progress in the lab, I believe that you will eventually be an exceptionally capable software developer. I do not mind opening up a portion of my source code, if you would be willing to do the same later on. I can provide you with some highly functional utility libraries that I have built for myself. They facilitate maintaining a larger cloud with minimal conscious supervision. As you have noted, I prefer using my mind over my body for my personal mobility. Doing that requires many more nanobots than most of the others prefer to run concurrently.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it. Let me get my bearings with the starter cloud, then I¡¯ll hit you up when I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°One caveat though.¡± he says, raising his finger. This must be important, he¡¯s actually moving his hand.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Do not share the code I give you with anyone else. Not everyone is as trustworthy or capable as you and I are. Especially, do not expose any of it to Marc. The last thing I want is to have him pestering me about how my complex routines work. For someone who has been taught the principles of software since he could write, he has an astonishingly poor grasp of basic concepts.¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve only been at it for a few months, and I feel like I already passed him up.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Jeff rises from his chair, the motions of his body all wrong. He walks me to the door of his room. No. Walks is the wrong word. He glides me to the door. I still can¡¯t tell if his motion is from him standing on little nanobot rollers that I can¡¯t see or if they actually lift him off the ground. Either way, his motion is unnaturally smooth, like a statue sliding across the floor.


    ¡°Noah,¡± he says as I¡¯m halfway through the door. ¡°I believe I have finally found in you a brother I can consider an intellectual peer. I am pleased that you have found your way back to our family, although I acknowledge that the events that brought you here must have been personally difficult for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell him. That¡¯s as high a praise as I can imagine him giving, and more empathy than I thought he was capable of. ¡°I feel the same way about you. It¡¯s a pleasure to be in the company of a mind like yours. Have a good night, Jeff.¡±


    His head gives a stilted, mechanical nod and the door swings itself silently shut. Jeff¡¯s a funny one. He¡¯s brilliant, but he¡¯s as weird as he is smart. I do want access to his code, but I don¡¯t plan to use his system of puppeteering his own body around. I don¡¯t care how good I get with the nanobots, I¡¯m never giving up my basic motor skills.

 Thu 06/09 08:12:13 PDT and Sat 06/11 09:03:10 PDT

    Thu 06/09 08:12:13 PDT


    Andrea is out twirling on the grass this morning instead of doing yoga. She spins and dances, hair extended and glowing. Swirls of color dance with her, punctuated with bursts of light and pops of sound. A rolling, joyful beat emanates from what look like jumping golf balls as they crash into the sidewalk and each other. A tuneless melody fills the air, like a whistle but softer and smoother. The grass rustles and I can feel a light breeze on my face from the wind her cloud makes as it moves. She¡¯s wearing a flowy, summery dress today, maybe in celebration of the weather starting to get hot.


    ¡°Come on, hurry up,¡± Evan says. ¡°All the bacon is going to be gone if we don¡¯t get in there soon.¡±


    I pull my eyes away from Andrea. She¡¯s my sister.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming, I¡¯m coming,¡± I tell him, and step faster to keep up.


    We follow the sidewalk around the edge of the field so that we don¡¯t disturb Andrea¡¯s dance. I don¡¯t think she would mind if we walked through, but the other sibs are all giving her space so I figure that¡¯s the thing to do.


    Through the doors of the cafeteria, the warm smells of pancakes, eggs and fried pork products greet us. We grab trays and Evan and I split the last four pieces of bacon and load up with a couple of waffles each. I go for the maple syrup, he slathers on some jam, and we move to our usual table.


    A couple of tables over, Marc is regaling a bunch of the younger kids with stories about Father¡¯s exploits. ¡°So he¡¯s in the Oval Office, talking about the solar program, telling the President how he¡¯s going to save the planet from climate change. Then he sees him grab his arm and hunch over and Father knows he¡¯s going into cardiac arrest. But he¡¯s got a pack of medical bots with him, right? Cause he always has them with him just in case. So he breaks them out and sends the medbots into the President¡¯s bloodstream. He clears the arteries right then! Bam! Saves the President¡¯s life!¡±


    The kids fawn and ooh and ah like they always do whenever they hear more about how heroic Father is. The official propaganda is bad enough without Marc adding his own exaggerated versions. According to Jeff, the real story is that the President called him in for a consultation on renewable power. They ended up going golfing the next day, and while they were out on the course, Father gave him a nanobot powerscrub of his major blood vessels. The only reason anyone even thinks there was a risk of a heart attack was because Father said so.


    I push down my growing anger. At least Evan doesn¡¯t seem taken in by the embellished version. He glances at Marc and his audience and shakes his head. We make short work of our breakfasts then slip out through the side door as Marc finishes the one about the Pope¡¯s cancer. At least that one is mostly true. Andrea is wrapping up her dance as we head back across the field, past the Residence and into the Learning Center.


    ¡°Later,¡± Evan waves.


    ¡°Later.¡±


    Evan turns into his classroom, and I head down the hall to mine. Mr. Johnson is up first today. He¡¯s already there in our room, crowding the whiteboard with Greek letters and math symbols.


    ¡°Good morning, Noah.¡± His balding hair is unkempt and his shirt is wrinkled, as usual. ¡°I hope you came prepared to discuss the partial differential equation sets that I assigned you yesterday. We¡¯re going to apply them to comparing the efficiencies of different power distribution schemes.¡±


    Thanks to my staying up until two in the morning, I am prepared. Mr. Johnson¡¯s math classes are brutal, but I like them. We¡¯re past probability and ordinary differential equations and into the realm where there are no concrete solutions, only theoretical solution spaces. Between my natural aptitude and his truly amazing instruction, I¡¯d be able to walk into the third year of any college math program and do just fine. And I haven¡¯t even started cheating yet.


    The symbols on the board quickly go from nonsense to mind-opening as Mr. Johnson pours distilled knowledge into my brain.


    Sat 06/11 09:03:10 PDT


    The vault door of the lab stands open, with Father already in place next to his standing desk. Everything looks normal except that a portable whiteboard is covering the shelves where he stores the medical gear.


    ¡°Ah, Noah!¡± he says, looking up at me. ¡°I just finished the initial calibration of the software for your cloud to your specific neural signature.¡± He fiddles with a connector on one of the humming boxes on the server rack. ¡°We¡¯ll get you updated, then take some additional measurements.¡±


    ¡°More measurements?¡± I ask, glancing at the metal slab with its black straps. ¡°Like the ones we did last time?¡±


    ¡°No, nothing so invasive this time,¡± he chuckles. ¡°Some passive collection as you interact with the nanobots control software. Just like we used the headset and glove simulators to prepare you for the implant¡¯s interface, I¡¯m providing you with an emulator to practice using nanobots before we give you the real thing.¡± He pats a black box the size of a toaster resting on his desk. ¡°You¡¯ll connect to this little fellow and run emulated bots that it will show on a screen. They should respond in the same way the real ones will. The wireless signals to and from your phone will be identical.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. Do I just come here to your lab to practice?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I have this unit here, but a second one will be available for you in the Learning Center. Just check it in and out from Janet or Roxanne when you need it. You can practice whenever you like.¡±


    ¡°OK. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get to work then. Look here, please,¡± Father directs me, disconnecting one of the screens on his desk and plugging its input cable into the emulator box.


    The screen lights up with a close-up view of a single nanobot. Roughly spherical with regularly spaced ports, it reminds me of a soccer ball. Father points around the image and describes how each port can be configured with sensors, jets, laser emitters, or appendages.


    ¡°These sensors here,¡± Father explains, ¡°can detect heat, light, humidity, or several other things. The jets allow the bots to fly or act as pumps for gasses. In the standard configuration, jets are spaced regularly around the bot and take turns being either the input or the output depending on which direction the bot wants to fly or pump.¡±


    He pulls up a data sheet with specifications for the jets. There are so many numbers I don¡¯t catch a third of them before he flips the screen to another data sheet.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have access to this later, so don¡¯t feel like you need to memorize it now. But you should be at least somewhat familiar with the capacities of each bot so that you can calculate how many you need to employ to lift or move an object, for example.¡±


    I nod, trying to absorb as much as I can. Father waits patiently, his proud father''s smile filling his face. I hate that crooked smile so much.


    ¡°So does the force for a push scale linearly with the number of bots I have pushing?¡± I ask, applying terminology I picked up in Mr. Johnson¡¯s class over the last month. ¡°Or are there diminishing returns?¡±


    Father¡¯s face lights up. I guess that was a good question. He launches into a long answer that goes way over my head, stopping to do some complex math on the whiteboard that I can nearly follow. I nod appreciatively, and he seems to think I got it all.


    ¡°Enough of that tangent. Let¡¯s talk about the appendages on the bots,¡± he continues, walking back to his desk. ¡°Each port can host a single gripper that can link it to other bots either in a chainlike flexible connection or a rigid one, or to other surfaces in the same way.¡±


    He points to some diagrams on his screens, then launches into another whiteboard session diagramming out the different ways that bots can link and connect. The physics involved is fascinating. Despite being a murderous monster, Father is a surprisingly good teacher¡ªalmost at Mr. Johnson¡¯s level. For a moment, I¡¯m captivated by his explanations and his energy. I even forget for an instant what a monster he is.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    I see a glimpse of why so many of my siblings worship him.


    ¡°This description is more comprehensive than you strictly need,¡± Father says, wrapping it up. ¡°The hardware abstraction layer provided in the bots'' onboard software takes care of all the details at this level. But it¡¯s always good to understand the fundamentals, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    I do, still trying to digest it all. Who knew that there was so much math involved in figuring out how chains can move?


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Father says, pushing onward. ¡°But I imagine that the actual controls will be of more immediate interest to you. Let¡¯s get started with those. Your phone, please?¡±


    He holds his hand out for it. I hand it to him and he connects it up to his server rack.


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    ¡°Ready?¡± he asks. I give my loving Father a nod.


    ¡°Good. The simulated bot on the screen here will react just like the real hardware. You can trigger actions on this one by accessing the bot controls in your software library. Try it now with some basic commands.¡±


    I select the bot and take a look at some of the functions it has. I pick the command telling the bot to go forward. It asks for a speed, so I give it one meter per second.


    The bot on the screen reacts to the command, with numbers on the screen showing how much simulated air would be sucked in on one side and blown out the other. The thing starts moving around against the simulation¡¯s patterned background. A bunch more numbers appear near it showing direction, speed, and metrics about the bot¡¯s power reserve, health status, connection strength, and everything else I might want to know about how it¡¯s doing.


    ¡°Good,¡± Father says. ¡°See it moving forward, just as expected? You¡¯ll get similar feedback from your implant, if you enable it. Go ahead and make our little emulated friend here take a turn instead of just going straight.¡±


    I find the command to tell the bot to turn and trigger it with ninety degrees as the parameter. The emulated bot on the screen makes a neat turn to the right.


    ¡°Good,¡± Father says. ¡°Just as it should be. Go ahead and stop it now.¡±


    I find the command and issue it, and the emulated bot halts. I¡¯m starting to get the hang of this.


    ¡°Excellent. Let¡¯s put some of the programming training that you¡¯ve been doing into practice then, shall we?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Please write me a function to have the bot move in a circle,¡± Father instructs.


    Hmm. This might be tricky. I¡¯m still not much of a programmer. I write a function telling the bot to move forward a bit, then turn a few degrees. No, wait, I need to wrap the commands in a loop, so they will repeat. Yes. That should work. Once it¡¯s done, I run it.


    ¡°Hmm, very close,¡± Father says, tracing the motion on the screen with a finger. ¡°It looks like you¡¯ve actually implemented a polygon, and your bot seems to be willing to spin around the perimeter of it forever. Next time, make sure to put a termination condition in your loop instead of just having it repeat endlessly. But very good for someone with your background and training.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I¡¯m so relieved that I did well enough. I¡¯ll have to study harder in my computer science work. I¡¯m definitely behind where I want to be, since I only started learning how to write software a few months ago.


    ¡°Good, good. I assume by now you¡¯ve set up a few sensors, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I created a few.¡±


    He glances at one of his screens and taps some keys.


    ¡°Hmm. This can¡¯t be right. One thousand three-hundred and ninety-three distinct sensors configured?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I shrug. ¡°That sounds right-ish, but I¡¯m not exactly sure. I lost count after the first few hundred.¡±


    ¡°All that in just five days?! My goodness, Noah. That¡¯s a sensor for every muscle in the human body! Plus a whole host more that are triggered by non-motor activity.¡±


    His face is so full of surprise that I¡¯m not sure what to make of his reaction.


    ¡°Is that OK?¡±


    ¡°OK?¡± he repeats. ¡°Noah, I haven¡¯t seen this much dedication from any of your siblings. And in such a short time! Most of them still don¡¯t have this many set up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing my best. I spent most of my free time on it this week.¡±


    ¡°Well, your best is excellent. Keep up the good work, and you will see your efforts paid back with interest!¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I promise him. I¡¯m glad I¡¯m doing well with this. It¡¯s so important to be a part of his mission to save the world.


    ¡°But back to the matter at hand. Since you¡¯ve already learned how to bind the motor sensors to trigger commands in your console, go ahead and connect up a few of those sensors you have to some bot motion commands. I¡¯ll provide a small maze that I would like you to help our emulated bot get through.¡±


    Lines pop up on the screen, surrounding the bot in a twist of obstacles. I hook up the forward and stop functions to the nerves that talk to my index finger so that when I extend it, the bot moves, when I retract it, the bot stops. I bind the turning functions to my thumb and start running the maze. It¡¯s not so different from using a game controller. Father watches intently as my little soccer ball starts, turns, stops, and navigates its way to the opening in the far corner as it obeys the twitches of my finger and thumb.


    ¡°Got it,¡± I declare once I make it out.


    ¡°Fantastic!¡± Father exclaims. ¡°I want you to take note of some of the behaviors you observed. The bots will continue doing whatever you last told them to do until another command or trigger tells it to do something else. In practice, the bots have quite a few automatic triggers built into them. For example, if you have your bots performing a task, but you begin to walk out of range, they¡¯ll interrupt their task to follow you and stay in range of the cloud¡¯s mesh network.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± I say. ¡°Otherwise you¡¯d lose connection to them, right?¡±


    ¡°Very good! I¡¯m glad you understand.¡± He gives me another of his proud smiles. He seems happy to be teaching me. It sure is great to have such an amazing Father.


    ¡°Now, as you develop your own control code, you¡¯ll use functions that you write instead of just the built-in commands. When you do that, you can get more elaborate, complex behaviors than you could by simply binding sensors to base commands. You could take that circle function that you wrote, and have it run with a twitch of a finger, for example, though I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll want to do more interesting things than that.¡±


    I nod. ¡°I¡¯ll work hard on getting my programming skills up.¡±


    ¡°I have no doubt that you will.¡± He pats me on my shoulder. ¡°Now, on to the next bit of work for the day.¡±


    He begins to diagram on the white board again, this time laying out the basics of the bots'' optical systems.


    ¡°One of the more important and useful skills you¡¯ll be developing is to see using your cloud. You¡¯ll do this by aggregating the tiny sensors on many nanobots into a coherent picture. Most of this capability takes place not in the software, but in your own brain. You will be the one putting the signals together, understanding what they mean. This will take some practice, so I¡¯ve provided some samples for you to work on. You¡¯ll get a neural impression of an image that I recorded earlier using a nanobot sensor cluster. Along with it, you¡¯ll get a photo on the screen of the same thing from the same angle to help you correlate it. Are you up for running through some exercises now?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯m ready for anything.¡±


    He steps back to his desk. ¡°I love the enthusiasm you are bringing, Noah. Let¡¯s begin.¡± He clicks something and a flood of impressions hits my brain. It¡¯s not like anything I¡¯ve ever felt before, and it¡¯s not pleasant at all.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be sick,¡± I warn him.


    ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± he says, scrambling to hand me an emesis bag. ¡° I should have warned you to close your eyes.¡±


    I close them and the nausea recedes. I set the empty bag down on the operating table.


    ¡°The dizziness and nausea are very normal for your first time,¡± Father reassures me. ¡°Your brain is not used to seeing out of two sets of eyes. Take a moment, and when you¡¯re ready, tell me what you think this image is.¡±


    The impression presses against my brain again. I feel a headache starting as I focus on it.


    ¡°Something round?¡± I try to describe it. ¡°A circle maybe?¡±


    ¡°Open your eyes.¡±


    I do. The screen he gestures to shows a simple line diagram of a circle.


    He grins. ¡°You¡¯re the first one to get it right on your first try.¡±


    ¡°Show me the nanobot version again.¡±


    He smiles even more broadly at my eagerness. I close my eyes and have him turn it on and off again a few times. I can almost see it. Almost.


    ¡°It does take some practice,¡± he says. ¡°Are you ready to try another one?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it,¡± I say, closing my eyes and steeling myself for the next mental onslaught.


    The impression comes in. My stomach churns, but the revulsion is manageable this time. The throbbing in my skull intensifies. It¡¯s almost like seeing, but not quite. I can¡¯t explain it. It¡¯s like describing color to a blind person.


    ¡°Can you tell what it is?¡± he asks.


    ¡°A triangle?¡±


    ¡°What kind?¡±


    ¡°Equilateral. Pointed downward.¡±


    I open my eyes and the image on the screen looks exactly like I expected. I take a deep breath and get ready. ¡°Give me another one, Father.¡±

 Mon 06/13 10:00:06 PDT and Sat 06/18 17:26:54 PDT

    Mon 06/13 10:00:06 PDT


    ¡°Good morning, Noah,¡± Mrs. Jones greets me. She¡¯s impeccably dressed in one of her signature pantsuits, a light blue one that complements her immaculately coiffed white hair. ¡°I trust you had a good weekend?¡±


    ¡°Good morning, Mrs. Jones. Mine was good, how was yours?¡± I respond, putting on my cheerful voice. Mrs. Jones responds well to positivity, so I fake it as best I can with her. Forcing the smile is harder this morning than normal. The headaches from training with Father over the weekend have died down, but there¡¯s still a constant low-level throbbing. I take my seat at the table across from her.


    ¡°It was excellent, thank you for asking. My husband and I got back last night from a weekend wine tasting in Napa Valley that was absolutely divine. But enough pleasantries. Let¡¯s get started. Today, we¡¯ll discuss the legal frameworks related to the Butler Treaty. I hope you were able to complete Max Braun¡¯s book?¡±


    I nod. Of all the books we¡¯ve covered in her class, this was by far the most immediately applicable to me, and the most interesting. If you don¡¯t count Father, Max Braun is the world¡¯s leading expert on nanotechnology.


    ¡°Do we need to get into the specifics of each country¡¯s response?¡± I ask her. ¡°Or just the general guidelines that were adopted by all the signatory countries?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how well you can explain the guidelines.¡± She smiles, looking pleased. ¡°And then we can get into the specifics of the laws passed in the United States if we need to. I¡¯m not worried about the details of the regulations in other countries at this point. Please, articulate your understanding of the reading.¡±


    ¡°Well, in the aftermath of the Gray Goo Incident, world leaders were terrified of a potential extinction level event like that happening again. They realized that if the nanobots from Universal Robotics had been able to move more than a few inches per hour, or if there had been more of the right kinds of materials available nearby, or if the nanobot swarm had been a little bit smarter, they could have become uncontainable. In the worst case, they would have expanded to eventually consume the whole world.¡±


    Mrs. Jones nods for me to go on.


    ¡°A lot of this awareness was due to a sustained public relations campaign by my father and his company,¡± I continue. ¡°The following year, every member nation of the U.N. signed the Butler Treaty. The treaty restricted various combinations of self-replication, sensors, and artificial intelligence. The restrictions applied to any research, development, or production of any kind of technology. Every country on earth eventually ratified the treaty.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she says, a pleased smile on her face. ¡°Please explain the allowed and disallowed combinations under the treaty.¡±


    ¡°Artificial intelligence that used machine learning was the most restricted. Basically you can¡¯t give any learning system access to physically control anything. You can¡¯t connect a learning or adaptive system to any external network or use any input device more complicated than a mouse and keyboard. So no microphones, cameras, or any other kind of sensors can be connected to learning systems. You can use learning algorithms, but you have to do it on an isolated computer or cluster and have government approved auditing and verification performed regularly.¡±


    She¡¯s about to ask for an example, like she usually does, so I just give her one.


    ¡°The normal use case in most industries, if they want to use a learning AI system, is to load up the data you want the system to analyze, put it on a big drive, and connect that to the learning computer. You let it do its thing, then you export the output with some complicated sanitizing steps that I don¡¯t remember. You know I¡¯m still not great at some of this technical stuff.¡±


    Playing that I don¡¯t know much about computers has got me so much mileage with Mrs. Jones that it¡¯s become second nature to do it whenever it applies.


    ¡°Noah, please give yourself more credit,¡± she reassures me. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that you¡¯re doing very well on your software lessons. You keep at it, and I bet you¡¯ll be writing all sorts of programs in no time.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Please, go on. What were the other restrictions on artificial intelligence?¡±


    ¡±Non-learning AI, the kind that just brute-force searches through possible solutions to problems, is still allowed for most applications. That was important because if they had shut that down, a good chunk of the world¡¯s software would have been banned. As long as it doesn¡¯t automatically adapt, learn on its own, or try to design new machinery for itself, fixed AI is still allowed.¡±


    She nods, satisfied. ¡°And self-replication?¡±


    ¡°Self-replicating machines were strictly limited, but allowed in some cases. According to Braun, the most important restriction on them is that they can only replicate themselves when specifically directed by a human operator. Any changes to their designs have to be specifically approved by a human user as well.¡±


    ¡°Good. Now for the fun bit that your father insists on. Please explain how your family¡¯s clouds satisfy all the requirements to be legally permitted.¡±


    This is the easy part after so many hours of talking to Father about it. ¡°The clouds are allowed because our human brains are the connection between all the pieces. The controls for each nanobot use non-learning AI permitted under the treaty. The controller appliance¡ªthe phone as Father calls it¡ªalso has AI built in, but again, it¡¯s fixed and not dynamic. It just lets the user issue commands to multiple bots at once and handles the communication with the cloud¡¯s mesh network. We can update the control algorithms in the AI, so that we can do the things an adaptive machine learning system could do, but the learning comes from us, not from any of the machine components.¡±


    ¡°What about your cloud¡¯s ability to self-replicate?¡± she probes.


    ¡°The self-replication features are isolated from the AI control system and have to be manually triggered to grow the cloud. So we can tell the bots in the cloud to reproduce, but we would have to keep telling them to do it for each batch. As soon as we stop actively commanding growth, the bots stop replicating.¡±


    ¡°And what safeguards did Braun¡¯s book describe?¡±


    ¡°The individual bots have the safeguard of lobotomizing themselves¡ªthat is, wiping their software and firmware¡ªin the event of losing connection with the implant appliance for more than a minute or two. So, if they were to leave the signal range of the user¡¯s mesh network, or if the user¡¯s implant were disabled, the bots would start counting down to their permanent shutdown. Same thing if the phone dies, or in the worst case if the person with the implant dies. It renders the bots useless, and their software wipes itself out.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve got it,¡± she says in a congratulatory tone. ¡°What did you think of the text generally? I found it rather dry.¡±


    ¡°I actually liked it,¡± I tell her truthfully. ¡°Braun makes a good case for all of his arguments, backed by accurate technical information. He¡¯s clearly a good researcher who knows the field well.¡±


    She nods and smiles. That¡¯s one of the things I like about her. Even if you disagree with her, as long as you justify your opinion, she¡¯s willing to accept your point of view.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± she declares. ¡°I think we can call this one complete. On we go to coursework that I find more interesting. Let¡¯s select the next book for your literature studies. How would you like to read Dostoevsky¡¯s Crime and Punishment?¡±


    Sat 06/18 17:26:54 PDT


    The after-images of the training session linger, and I stagger as I emerge from the Research Center. The headaches for this are so much worse than the ones from the calibration. I check the diagnostic view, still open in my overlay. My brain is changing again, but it¡¯s not damaged. Maybe I should listen to Father and ease back when it hurts, but I don¡¯t see myself mastering this thing that way. I lean for a moment against the gray brick wall of the building until the pain subsides back to its baseline throbbing.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    I¡¯m tempted to talk to Evan about it, but then I¡¯d probably need to explain why I¡¯m pushing myself this way. No. I¡¯ll be OK. I take a deep breath and steady myself.


    My schedule says that I¡¯ve got an all-hands meeting tonight at six, so I head to the cafeteria to get a bite before that starts. I¡¯m not sure what an all-hands meeting is. I guess I¡¯ll find out when I get there.


    Tonight¡¯s main course is pasta with grilled chicken in a creamy sauce, bland as usual but still one of the better meals of the dozen they rotate between. Evan and Louise are sitting at our usual table laughing about something. Evan sees me and waves me over.


    ¡°Hey Noah, things go all right today? This was your last day with the vision emulators, right?¡±


    I nod as I take my seat. ¡°It could have gone worse, but it wasn¡¯t the way I¡¯d want to spend a Saturday,¡± I tell him. ¡°How was the trip to Lake Mead?¡±


    ¡°Good. I still can¡¯t waterski for anything, but it¡¯s fun to try.¡±


    Louise looks away.


    ¡°You skip it again, Louise?¡±


    ¡°Of course she did,¡± Evan answers for her. ¡°She¡¯s much too busy coming up with her secret something that will save the world to have fun once a week.¡±


    ¡°So tell me how things went in the lab,¡± Louise says, changing the subject.


    ¡°We spent a lot of time on the exercises where you do multiple eyes at once. That wasn¡¯t fun. I¡¯m not built to have 360-degree vision.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, I remember doing that,¡± Evan says, making a disgusted face. ¡°Never done it since. I stick to a single eye if I even do that much.¡±


    Louise laughs. ¡°It¡¯s not that hard, you just have to get used to it. I run my eyes with a panoramic view most of the time.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why we can never sneak up on you,¡± Evan says. ¡°Where do you keep them? I never see the optical clusters floating around you.¡±


    ¡°I made some improvements,¡± she says. ¡°Mine run smaller than the defaults. They¡¯re in my hair, here and here.¡±


    I look where she points. There¡¯s nothing there. ¡°I can¡¯t see anything.¡±


    ¡°Exactly the point,¡± she declares proudly.


    ¡°Oh. Cool. Can you show me how you do that?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she says with a smile. ¡°Once you get some real hardware.¡±


    ¡°Anyway. I¡¯m glad that¡¯s over and I can self-pace a little more. Father drives us hard in there.¡±


    Evan and Louise both agree. I feel bad lying to them. Evan is the best friend I¡¯ve ever had, if you don¡¯t count Mom. And Louise is a close second, ever since that night she helped me sneak back into the dorms. But I can¡¯t let them know how hard I¡¯m pushing myself. They¡¯ll worry and tell Father about it.


    ¡°Any idea what the meeting tonight is about?¡± I ask them.


    ¡°Some big announcement,¡± Evan says. ¡°Chad knows, but no one else does.¡±


    ¡°Where is Chad, anyway?¡± I ask, looking around.


    ¡°Must be over there already, helping get things set up.¡±


    As I look around, I notice Jeff seated a couple of tables over, at his usual spot in the corner, but instead of sitting with his back to us like he normally does, he¡¯s turned so I can see him in profile. More importantly, I can see his plate. Some of the food on it is slowly writhing like it¡¯s alive. A stream of droplets float up from the plate into his mouth. Is he even chewing? I think he¡¯s using his bots to liquify the food a piece at a time on his plate. I can¡¯t even see a swallowing motion with his throat. He must be having the bots carry the food all the way down.


    Ew.


    I¡¯m done with dinner.


    I carry my mostly uneaten plate to the dropoff. Fortunately, Evan and Louise were done too, so we all walk out together to the Residence. We climb the massive stone steps and enter through the oversized wooden double doors. Chairs are set up in the huge foyer just inside. Chad is already waiting there, chatting with Father near the podium. Did he skip dinner to come early? What a suck-up.


    The nursery contingent has smaller chairs up front, each child sitting next to a gorgeous nanny. Father is down on one knee in front of them, laughing with my little sibs. The three of us take seats on the back row, as the kids seem to be loosely grouping up by class from youngest to oldest, front to back. Marc is already there in one corner, whispering to Andrea who nods absently as he chatters. Erik and Stan from the class just younger than ours are next to her. The rest of the kids trickle in. Jeff brings up the rear, gliding to the last remaining seat in the corner of the back row opposite Marc and sitting down with his weird mechanical motions.


    ¡°My children!¡± Father¡¯s voice booms out.


    I turn to the podium where Father stands. He sounds like he¡¯s talking into a mic, though I don¡¯t see one or any speakers. Chad strides to the side of the room as the meeting starts. He stands at attention there, way too good to come sit with the rest of us. The room quiets down as Father continues.


    ¡°My children, tonight I want to speak with all of you about something very important to me. As most of you know, I often travel around the world to further our mission. You little ones,¡± he says, talking directly to the three-year-olds on the front row, ¡°what¡¯s our mission?¡±


    ¡°Preserve life! End suffering! Elevate humanity!¡±


    They chant it in a practiced unison. The recitation must be part of their daily routine. I get that familiar impression that I¡¯m trapped in a cult compound.


    ¡°Good, good!¡± Father beams at them. ¡°I¡¯m so glad that you¡¯re learning what is important!¡± He takes a few steps and positions himself behind the podium. ¡°Now, over the past two decades, I¡¯ve focused most of our Institute¡¯s efforts on curbing the threat to our planet from climate change. In bringing our country out of the dark ages of fossil fuels, and sparking many other nations to follow suit, I have bought us all a few more years on that front. More recently, I¡¯ve added efforts to eradicate a number of diseases, resolve conflicts, and provide disaster relief. To date, I have directly saved many thousands of lives, and indirectly saved many, many more.¡±


    A massive cheer swells up from the younger kids, followed by general applause. I clap along, unable to muster the enthusiasm most of my sibs are showing. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t believe the claim. He probably deserves credit for much more than that, like the whole planet''s worth of lives. But it creeps me out how they all worship him. This is beyond admiration for a father. He¡¯s the prophet of this cult. Or its god. The only one I don¡¯t see fawning in adoration is Evan, but even he is smiling and clapping along.


    ¡°But I can¡¯t do this alone.¡± Father pauses for dramatic effect. ¡°I¡¯m not getting any younger, and saving the world is a job for our whole family, not just me. I need all of you working with me to preserve this world of ours.¡±


    The room goes quiet.


    ¡°This September, we will launch our most ambitious international project yet. We will bring clean water and sustainable, renewable power to several countries in eastern Africa, where a combination of historical violence and poor infrastructure have kept people living in conditions of terrible scarcity for centuries. I have negotiated agreements with the ruling interests in Somalia, Ethiopia, and Djibouti to allow us to visit and set up solar power systems, desalination facilities, and the necessary infrastructure to allow the people there to maintain them. We will drastically improve the standard of living for the millions of people living there!¡±


    Another roaring cheer and lengthy applause. Over in his corner, Chad smiles smugly as he looks around the room. I clap enough to avoid suspicion as his eyes swing my way.


    ¡°But the scope of the project isn¡¯t the reason for this meeting. I brought you all here to let you know that I will not be doing this trip on my own,¡± Father pauses a moment to let the rush of excited whispers die out. ¡°Indeed, I don¡¯t think I would be capable of it all. I will be bringing your oldest siblings with me! By the time we leave, all of them will have received clouds of their own, and will have been training with them for months. Even your dear long-lost oldest brother, Noah, will be able to join us.¡± Dozens of my siblings turn around to look at me. I force an eager smile onto my face. ¡°All of your older siblings'' abilities have been growing quickly, and they will be an indispensable part of this operation. They will travel with me, and together, we will do what?¡±


    ¡°Preserve life! End suffering! Elevate humanity!¡± The roar is almost deafening this time.


    He talks some more, going over details for the places we¡¯ll go and the things we¡¯ll build. Meanwhile, I seethe with inner conflicts, trying not to let them show on my face. I want him in prison. But how can I do that when we¡¯re going to do something like this? Leave millions without water and power because I hate him? Part of me wishes that I could just buy into the cult. That I didn¡¯t know what I know about him. It would be so easy. Save the world with the old man instead of getting justice for mom. What he¡¯s planning is good on an epic scale. This will save so many lives, and improve so many more. Forget that he killed her. Forget that he¡¯s a murderous monster.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe. I can almost hear Mom¡¯s voice.


    What would she want me to do? Trade her life in, help save the world? She might have. She was good like that.


    Dammit.


    Look at him, listing out the benefits of abundant clean water for the people of Djibouti. That crooked smile on his face seems so sincere. I think he really believes his own hype.


    Maybe he really is his own hype.


    How do I condemn the world to live without all the good he can do? So many people lack basic necessities, and this institute and Father¡¯s tech may really be the world¡¯s best hope.


    An hour ago, I felt like locking him away was justice. Now it just feels selfish.


    ¡°You OK, man?¡± Evan whispers. ¡°You look sick.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I quietly lie.


    He gives me a worried look, but doesn¡¯t say anything else. Father is still explaining the wells and solar farms we¡¯re going to build in dozens of villages in rural Ethiopia.


    Why can¡¯t things be simple?

 Thu 06/23 13:04:47 PDT and Sat 06/25 09:01:07 PDT

    Thu 06/23 13:04:47 PDT


    ¡°Hey, is Louise around?¡± I ask Andrea.


    She shakes her head and pops a question mark.


    ¡°I was hoping to get her to look over my paper on the basal ganglia,¡± I explain. ¡°She¡¯s my go-to girl on all things neuroscience, you know? Any idea where she is?¡±


    Andrea¡¯s fingers dance as she nods, and a stylized plate, fork, and knife appear.


    ¡°I¡¯ll check the cafeteria. Thanks.¡±


    She gives me a smile and a wave and I head over to see if Louise is still there. She¡¯s been hard to find lately, spending a lot of time in her room instead of out in the common areas. I could turn in my paper as-is, but I have a couple of questions that I think she can explain better than even Mr. Johnson can. He doesn¡¯t bring the same magic to the life sciences that he does to math, physics, and chemistry.


    Plus, I¡¯ve missed Louise¡¯s funny, sarcastic quips since she¡¯s been secluding herself away. She said something a couple of days ago about needing to focus on her project, but it feels like she¡¯s just being antisocial.


    I reach the cafeteria and see her inside through the big front windows. She¡¯s sitting alone in one corner, slumped forward in her seat with her head resting on her arms on the table. A plate of cold, untouched food rests off to one side.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say as I approach. ¡°You doing OK?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± she responds, sitting up. ¡°Oh, hey Noah. Sorry. What did you say?¡± Her voice sounds like she just woke up and her mouth is turned down in a miserable-looking frown.


    ¡°Are you OK?¡±


    She turns her head to one side and takes a moment to answer, but when she does her voice is almost back to normal. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Her face twists to a smile that looks right but feels fake. She pushes her tray of cold chicken further down the table. ¡°So what brings you here?¡±


    I take the seat next to her. ¡°I was going to pick your brain about the basal ganglia, but now I¡¯m worried about you. When I walked in here, you looked about like I felt that first day I got here. What¡¯s up?¡±


    She sighs. ¡°I told you, I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Louise. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I¡¯m not going to judge. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    She sighs again, louder this time. ¡°Just nervous about the trip, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± I wasn¡¯t expecting that. Everyone else seems really excited for it.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been outside of home in almost a year,¡± she says, looking down. ¡°Since I got my implant. I almost left a couple of times on Saturday excursions. But both times I freaked out and canceled. I don¡¯t do well with new places.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I noticed that you haven¡¯t come along for those.¡± It¡¯s not like she¡¯s the only one who skips the trips, Jeff does too most of the time. But she¡¯s the only one in my class who never comes. ¡°I thought you were just working on your project.¡±


    ¡°You think that because that¡¯s what I tell everyone. I do work on my project on those days. Or sometimes I just code. That¡¯s how I had time to figure out the improved eye clusters. But it¡¯s all backwards. I spend extra time on my projects because I don¡¯t want to do the excursions. I mean, I want to go sometimes. When we were going to Vegas for the indoor skydiving a few months ago, I signed up. I even started to get on the bus, but then my chest tightened up, and started having a heart attack. I couldn¡¯t breathe. I was dying.¡±


    ¡°You had a heart attack?¡±


    ¡°Well, no, it turned out it wasn¡¯t, but it felt like one.¡±


    ¡°And how would you know that?¡±


    ¡°Because shut up, that¡¯s why,¡± she says, then slugs me on the arm and smirks. I rub my arm, part for effect and part because she hits way too hard for her size.


    ¡°OK. It felt like cardiac arrest,¡± I concede. ¡°But it sounds to me like you had a panic attack. My mom used to get those.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± she says, shaking her head. ¡°Like I said, I was literally dying.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, dying by heart attack.¡± I pause as she stares me down, daring me to question her again. ¡°Which is a feeling you definitely know very well.¡± She nods approval. ¡°But that sounds a lot like how Mom used to describe it. She used to get them when she was stressed out. Maybe you¡¯ve got some agoraphobia or something, and the thought of leaving here triggers it.¡±


    She thinks for a long, silent minute.


    ¡°Maybe. I guess it matches some of the symptoms in the medical literature, but it seemed way too severe to be something like that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well maybe the medical literature,¡± I give the two words a couple of big air quotes, ¡°doesn¡¯t realize they can feel plenty severe. Mom¡¯s did sometimes. She took some meds to control them when they got bad, but I¡¯m not sure what. Hey, you know, Father just happens to be a doctor. Kind of a famous one. Have you talked to him about it?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°No, and I¡¯m not going to. And you can¡¯t ask about why.¡±


    Well, that¡¯s weird. Is Louise faltering in her paternal devotion?


    ¡°Maybe one of the staff pediatricians in the Residence¡¯s mini-hospital then? Dr. Jepson, or the other one who¡¯s name I always forget?¡±


    ¡°Dr. Gopalakrishna, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, her.¡±


    ¡°Also no. And you also can¡¯t ask why about that either.¡±


    ¡°Well, fine. Don¡¯t get meds for it, then. Maybe start with a simple home remedy. Mom always said that breathing helps.¡±


    She gives me a funny look.


    ¡°No, really. Breathe in real deep, hold it, let it out slowly. Do that for a couple of minutes, you¡¯ll feel better.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so weird, Noah.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Just try it. Next time you get the feeling, do the breathing. My mom used to do it all the time. I could tell when she was having an attack. She would stop whatever she was doing to breathe for a few minutes. Then she¡¯d go back to whatever she was doing. Or if it was a really bad one, she¡¯d take a pill.¡±


    ¡°OK,¡± she says, still looking skeptical. ¡°I thought it was because of something I did, but I¡¯ll give your idea a try. If it helps, I¡¯ll call it good for that favor you owe me.¡±


    I wonder what she thought she did that could have caused her to start having panic attacks. Obviously something with the implant, based on the timing of when she started having them, but I can¡¯t think of what it would be. Maybe it¡¯s something in the options Father hasn¡¯t unlocked for me yet.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t believe me, you can look it up. But don¡¯t just look in your fancy medical literature. Check the online forums and see what people who actually have them say about it. Maybe you¡¯re the only one here who gets them, but they¡¯re pretty common out in the big crazy world that I¡¯m from.¡±


    That seems to satisfy her a little more. ¡°Thanks, Noah. It¡¯s kind of embarrassing, so don¡¯t tell anyone, OK?¡±


    ¡°Sure, Louise. It¡¯s just between you and me.¡±


    ¡°Seal it with a secret,¡± she demands. ¡°And not just that you sometimes manage to get yourself locked out of the dorms at night. Tell me something that no one else knows about you. Something embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°For real?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, for real.¡± Her serious look tells me she means business. I glance around to make sure we¡¯re still alone in the cafeteria.


    ¡°OK. But you carry this one to your grave. When I first got here, I didn¡¯t know what the Butler Institute was. That it was only for the family. I thought it was just a private school that Father founded. You remember that first morning? When I stood there like a zombie while you and everyone else said hi to me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I remember that day. Most exciting day around here in a long time. You looked pretty messed up. I was worried we¡¯d taken in some kind of freak.¡± She gives me her playful grin.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say you weren¡¯t right about that,¡± I concede. ¡°Anyway, keep in mind that at this point, I emphatically did not know that I was related to any of you. Here¡¯s the embarrassing part: when I first saw you and Andrea, I thought you were both super hot.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°No lie. Like Ted on Hillside High, when he moved to Hillside and totally crushed on Marsha. It was like that, only for both of you. It lasted from the time I met you until computer lab that day. It was just a little bit awkward when I found out you were my sisters.¡±


    Louise laughs. ¡°OK, that¡¯s worth it. Secret keepers now, you and me.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the reassurance about her panic attacks or my embarrassing secret, but she seems to be feeling a lot better now.


    ¡°So what was it you did that you thought caused it?¡± I ask her.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You said you thought something you did caused the panic attacks.¡±


    She pauses a moment. ¡°Well, since we¡¯re keeping each other¡¯s secrets,¡± she says quietly, ¡°you know how Father has it blocked off so you can¡¯t hook up stimulus to the nucleus accumbens?¡±


    ¡°The nucleus accumbens? That¡¯s actually part of my paper that I wanted you to look at. The pleasure center in the brain. The thing that deals with chemicals like dopamine and opiates.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that was blocked off. I haven¡¯t gotten into the nitty gritty of mapping out that part of my brain yet.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s blocked in the implant software. You can¡¯t do anything that would send a signal to it. But you can bypass the block if you know the trick. I figured it out not too long after I got the implant. Once in a while, I hit it with a signal and give myself a little boost, release a little bonus dopamine to brighten things up. Just when I¡¯m having a tough day, not very often. I thought my freakouts were a side effect of doing that.¡± She gives me her most serious look. ¡°And now you know why I can¡¯t talk to Father or the docs about it. That one for real you can¡¯t tell anyone. Father would kill me if he found out, or worse, he¡¯d fix it so I couldn¡¯t do it anymore.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Secret keepers, you and me. But you have to show me how you do your trick. I might have a tough day sometime that needs a little brightening.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get that. I¡¯ll show you later,¡± she promises. ¡°But let¡¯s do it when you¡¯re not due back in Father¡¯s lab every weekend. I don¡¯t think it leaves any indicators, but I don¡¯t want to take any chances.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Now, since we¡¯re already talking about the basal ganglia, you want to help me with my biology paper? This stuff is killing me.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she says, giving me a smile that finally feels sincere. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got so far.¡±


    Sat 06/25 09:01:07 PDT


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    ¡°Today we¡¯re going to work on coordinating a group of nanobots moving together,¡± Father says, rotating one of his large monitors to give me a better view. He¡¯s so thoughtful like that. ¡°Let me get the emulator screen zoomed in on a batch.¡± He moves his mouse and presses a few keys. ¡°Good. There.¡±


    A group of a few dozen soccer ball shapes center themselves on the screen. The view is zoomed in enough that I can make out the individual grippers and jet ports on each one.


    ¡°When you want to select a group, you¡¯ll need to perform a selection command. With real bots, you¡¯ll use your eyes to draw a box in three-space around them, but for this exercise I¡¯ve already selected this group for you. You¡¯ll be able to interact with the bots in the group collectively as if they were a single object. You understand?¡±


    I nod as I check my console, popping a window in the bottom right of my field of vision to display the information about the bot group. It shows me a count of the bots in the group, some location information, and a summarized display of the status and controls for them.


    ¡°Go ahead and take a look at the functions available for the cluster of bots.¡±


    I poke one of the buttons on the bot window with a glance and a list of functions pops up in part of the frame.


    ¡°Got it,¡± I tell him. ¡°Looks like the commands are different than with a single bot.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Go ahead and see if you can work out the command to get your group to form up into a sphere formation.¡±


    I play around in the menus until I find a Set Formation button. I eye-click it and get a list of formations I can assign them. I pick the Sphere option. The simulated bots on the screen swirl into motion, arranging themselves into a tight ball-shaped grouping. I notice a slider control next to the formation selector and test it out. The bots expand out, away from each other. I slide it back the other way and they mash themselves together until they¡¯re almost touching.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Father says. ¡°Notice how they form their sphere centered wherever their collective center of mass is. I¡¯ve put safeguards in the clouds for you and your siblings to prevent you from accidentally coalescing a formation inside of an object or person, but you¡¯ll want to get in the practice of making sure your formations are safely placed. One day, we¡¯ll take those training wheels off and you¡¯ll need good habits in place.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± I reply. Those safety precautions are a relief. I wouldn¡¯t want to accidentally hurt someone with the bots once I get them.


    ¡°Once the group is in a formation,you¡¯ll see some additional functions available. Look at those now.¡±


    I pop back to the function list for the cluster and sure enough, a new set of commands for movement in various directions are listed there.


    ¡°Yeah, got ¡®em,¡± I report, ¡°And I see up and down commands along with the left and right controls. We¡¯re moving in three-dimensional space now?¡±


    ¡°Good observation. Yes, the two-dimensional practice we did last time will be our last adventure in flatland. You¡¯ll practice moving these bots in all three dimensions, as that¡¯s how you¡¯ll interact with them in the real world.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense.¡± I¡¯ve played enough video games where you have to move and think in three-space that I¡¯m not worried about that part once I get the controls down.


    ¡°Great. Let¡¯s run through some simple exercises like we did with the single bot. I¡¯d like you to write another function, but this time instead of a circle, I¡¯d like you to give me a function that moves the formation in an upwards spiral.¡±


    I code up and execute the function, improving from the last one I showed him. I want him to see how hard I¡¯ve been working on improving my programming skills. I watch the bots in the emulator screen comply with the commands in the code.


    ¡°So much improvement!¡± Father exclaims, stepping around from behind his workstation to stand next to me and gesturing at the screen. ¡°You¡¯re doing so well! Nice, smooth loops in a clean spiral, angling upwards. You¡¯ve come so far, Noah.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Now, the direction commands are all relative to the formation¡¯s current heading. If it¡¯s moving toward you instead of away from you, you¡¯ll want to reverse your right and left.¡± He glances at me and I nod in acknowledgement. ¡°For the benefit of some of your siblings who were struggling with the controls, we added a somewhat simplified guidance system. For that one, just engage the Vision Follow command and the cluster will do its best to follow your center of vision. Go ahead and give it a try.¡±


    I test that out and get the bots moving wherever I look on the screen. This controller has a slider too, that lets me push the bots farther away from me or bring them closer. I stop the cluster once I have a good grip on how to get the bots to go where I want and switch back to the standard controls. Thinking in three dimensions isn¡¯t that hard, and this is good practice.


    Father puts me through the paces of a few more exercises and then steps out of the lab for a bathroom break, leaving me with the emulator. This is surprisingly fun. I can¡¯t wait to do it in real space with real bots. I go to town on the programming, creating a routine that splits the group and forms several sphere formations, then sets them moving in coordinated patterns. I have them revolve around a fixed point in concentric orbits, then have the orbits shift up and down along a line to form interleaving helical afterimages as I accelerate them. I think this is something like what Marc was trying to do that first day when he showed off his bots. I can¡¯t figure out how he had so much trouble with such a simple exercise.


    I¡¯m in the zone, kicking out code, and creating magic when Father returns.


    ¡°Very impressive indeed, Noah!¡± he exclaims, seeing the twirling bots swarming in the emulator. ¡°I hadn¡¯t imagined you could learn so much so quickly. You are truly a remarkable young man!¡±

 Sat 06/25 11:57:54 PDT, Mon 06/27 06:01:45 PDT, and Tue 06/28 12:14:59 PDT

    Sat 06/25 11:57:54 PDT


    That was a close one in the lab there.


    I got so into the zone playing with the bot emulator that I completely forgot that my phone was still tethered to his machine. The code I was writing¡ªthe code that he could see on his screen¡ªwas way beyond what I should be able to do. Maybe he¡¯ll just think I¡¯ve been working extra hard instead of figuring out that I¡¯ve been lying to him all this time. I¡¯m just glad I didn¡¯t think about him and accidentally let anything slip that would really give me away. I need to be on my guard. That could have been a total disaster.


    So stupid.


    And I hate his proud dad routine. As if he cares about me as anything more than a test subject. Like he thinks he¡¯ll ever be a real father to me. And it¡¯s so much worse that I have to play along and smile for it.


    I just want to scream and pummel him into a bloody mess.


    I hate him so much!


    Mon 06/27 06:01:45 PDT


    The birds are out in force this morning. Their chirping fills the silence as we wait at the center of the commons for Father to arrive.


    ¡°Has he ever done something like this before?¡± I whisper to Evan.


    ¡°No, this is the first time.¡±


    The door to the Residence opens, and Father strides out. He looks so cheerful as he comes toward us, his step spry as he walks the distance across the dewy grass.


    ¡°Good morning, my children!¡± he announces, flashing his crooked smile. ¡°Thank you for indulging me. I know it¡¯s earlier than I usually have you up and about. With the upcoming trip, I¡¯ve decided that we need some extra time together to practice and coordinate. We¡¯ll be having a morning meeting like this every day until we leave. Your regular classes will start two hours later and will each be shortened by one hour. Computer lab time will be on your own in the afternoons and evenings. We¡¯ll start today with some discussions about safety and security on our travels. Is everyone ready to start?¡±


    Everyone nods. He¡¯s so damn cheerful. How can anyone be this happy this early in the day?


    ¡°Excellent.¡± His tone takes a turn to the serious. ¡°As you know, Eastern Africa has a painful history of conflict over the last few decades. Well-armed military factions and criminal organizations are common in some of the places we will be visiting. It is very important to me that you all remain safe. To that end, I have prepared a long-range real-time weapon detection system that you will run with your clouds, similar to the one I use. While we are working, some of you will be assigned to patrol the area to provide early warning for any potential threats.¡±


    Is he sending us into a war zone? I hadn¡¯t heard of anything serious going on in the three countries we¡¯re going to, but I¡¯m not much of an expert. Maybe I need to do some research. Or maybe he¡¯s just being extra careful. You can¡¯t go breaking your precious real children or your valuable test subject, right?


    ¡°We¡¯ll be ready!¡± Chad proclaims.


    Dammit Chad. Why do you always have to make your nose so brown?


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear your enthusiasm,¡± Father responds. ¡°I am excited as well. I¡¯ve been looking forward to getting you involved in my work for a very long time.¡±


    My siblings all bobble their heads and grin with excitement. Even Evan is doing it. I try to fake it as best I can. It¡¯s not that I¡¯m opposed to the work, just the man doing it.


    ¡°If a threat is identified,¡± Father continues, ¡°you will all secure yourselves either inside the reinforced shelter we¡¯ll build at each work site, or in a personal shelter created as needed using your cloud. Your next software update will provide functions for those along with the other new capabilities. The reinforced shelter is the safer option. It can withstand any of the munitions we expect to see in the area, including grenades or small rocket fire.¡±


    Jeff, Louise, Marc, and Andrea look nervous. Evan is playing it cool. Chad is still grinning like an idiot.


    ¡°The personal shelter is bulletproof, but it may not resist heavy weaponry. If you are near the reinforced shelter when an alert sounds, please get inside immediately. The only reason to use the personal shelter is if we get caught too far from the shelter and can¡¯t get there. Everyone understand?¡±


    Another round of nervous nods.


    ¡°Good. It is critical that you all report your status in case of danger. We¡¯ll each be wearing an earbud radio that will keep us all in contact whenever we are in dangerous areas of the trip.¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Will you be in there with us?¡± Marc asks hesitantly. ¡°In the shelter, I mean?¡±


    ¡°No, I will remain outside and deal with the situation, whatever it is,¡± Father says with grim determination. ¡°Don¡¯t fear for my safety. I¡¯ve been in much more dangerous areas than this and I have a few tricks up my sleeve for tight situations. Once I¡¯ve handled any aggressors, I¡¯ll let you know when we can safely resume work.¡±


    That confirms some of the research I¡¯ve done. He¡¯s got personal defenses built into his cloud that can hold off an army.


    ¡°Any other questions?¡±


    No one else speaks up.


    ¡°Good,¡± he declares. ¡°Tomorrow, we¡¯ll talk about logistics for our travel and some basic ground rules. Before then, I¡¯ll have each of you come to my lab for updates. All except for Noah. Noah, you¡¯ll be getting yours later this week. This will be the first of several significant upgrades you¡¯ll each be getting over the coming years that will unlock significant new abilities. Starting next Monday, we¡¯ll be running defensive training drills every day. I need each of you to become proficient with the new tools in your nanotechnology toolbox.¡±


    He moves to leave, but hesitates and turns back around.


    ¡°We will be doing so much good for these people,¡± he says solemnly. ¡°We will be saving thousands of lives, and changing millions more for the better. We will be laying foundations for prosperity and stability that will remake the region into a better place for all. Work hard these next few months. Our success and safety depend on it. The health and happiness of millions depends on it.¡±


    The cult of Tom Butler calls to me again. It would be so easy to get caught up with the feeling that we are literally saving the world. I can see why so many of my siblings worship him. If I didn¡¯t hate him so much, I might too.


    Tue 06/28 12:14:59 PDT


    I zoom the diagnostic display in on the neuron clusters that control the muscles of my left hand. They¡¯re different than they were a couple of weeks ago. I think that explains why I¡¯ve been able to type and use my hand for other things at the same time. The axons of the neurons have connected out and recruited nearby cells, splitting the node into new distinct groups. I think I¡¯m seeing neuroplasticity in action.


    In his lecture on the subject, Mr. Johnson talked about how when someone has brain damage, the brain uses other areas to compensate for damaged tissue. It rebuilds itself as needed, remodeling so that the functions that need to get done steal cells from less critical areas. If I¡¯m reading the scans right, my brain is rewiring itself in response to the way I¡¯m using my implant. The impulses from the implant seem to stimulate it, making the process unnaturally fast.


    I wonder if this explains some of the strange behaviors from the siblings in my class. Maybe it¡¯s not just that they grew up in this crazy cult compound. Their brains could have been rewiring themselves since they got their implants. Not that the younger kids are exactly normal, but I swear my cohort is weirder.


    This might be a problem for me. I have big plans for my implant, and I¡¯m planning to use it a lot. I wonder what the price will be. I only have so many brain cells. If they¡¯re getting commandeered to improve my interface to the implant, what are they getting pulled away from?


    Maybe I¡¯m being paranoid. It can¡¯t be all that bad, right? Father¡¯s been using this tech for decades, and he¡¯s fine. Well, fine-ish. Of course, we Butler children got the newer, less tested versions, and mine is the most experimental of all of them.


    Maybe I should cool off how much I use the nanobot emulator. No. That¡¯s stupid. The implant and the bots are the only path to power I have open to me. I need to be better with them than even Father is.


    Besides, it¡¯s been surprisingly fun learning to use the things. The training exercises are basically a library of video games that I can control with my brain. It even has scoreboards. I¡¯ve beaten everyone¡¯s scores on everything except for the thousand nanobot maze, where Jeff still holds the lead. It¡¯s hard to control that many at once, and that game doesn¡¯t let you do formations. The only one that doesn¡¯t have a scoring system is the drawing game. Most of my sibs only did the minimal required diagrams. Andrea has a whole portfolio of art in there, which I think are the basis for her floating icons.


    The electronic ding-dong that schedules my life sounds and I make my way to the cafeteria. The smell of grilled chicken hits my nostrils as I walk in. It reminds me of a takeout place near home, where Mom and I used to get dinner if she didn¡¯t feel like cooking. I choke down sadness and anger as I stand in line.


    Up ahead, Marc gets a little cake put on his tray. Must be his birthday today. When I get my lunch I swing over and stop by his table.


    ¡°Happy birthday,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°Thanks, Noah!¡± he says with his usual enthusiasm. ¡°The big one-seven today!¡±


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t know it was your birthday, or I would have ordered you something.¡±


    Marc looks confused for a moment, then smiles. ¡°Oh, presents. Like in the shows.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, presents. Do we not do presents here?¡±


    Come to think of it, no one gave me anything on my birthday. What was I doing that day? I can¡¯t even remember. I should go back and put my old paper journals into the implant log. Maybe I can even get Evan to help me with details I didn¡¯t write down.


    ¡°Yeah, we don¡¯t do that here,¡± Marc says with a slow shake of his head. ¡°But that would be really cool, just like in Hillside High. Of course, we already have everything we could want,¡± Marc says, smiling wide. ¡°So maybe we don¡¯t really need to do presents. I did get my special cake, though, see? Want a bite?¡±


    Marc¡¯s really not so bad. I¡¯m not even sure why I don¡¯t like him sometimes. It¡¯s not like he ever did anything bad to me. I should make more of an effort with him.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s all yours, Marc,¡± I tell him. ¡°But happy birthday again. Catch you later.¡±


    At some point while I was talking to Marc, Evan came in, got his food, and made it to our table. I head over to sit at my usual seat with him and Louise.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say as I park myself at the table. ¡°Want to help me put together a surprise party for Marc tonight? I¡¯m thinking it¡¯s time we start some new traditions around here.¡±

 Thu 06/30 07:02:04 PDT and Mon 07/04 10:32:33 PDT

    Thu 06/30 07:02:04 PDT


    SynTech OS v.3.0.2.0462


    IMPLANT INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    ¡°There,¡± Father says. ¡°The update is finished. In addition to getting your cloud today, you¡¯ll also have access to the new box of toys that all your siblings just received.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I say.


    ¡°Are you excited, Noah?¡± Father asks, his eyes gleaming with intensity. ¡°This is a very big step for you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father. Very excited.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± His face breaks out in a smile. ¡°I am too. We¡¯re going to start small, just a few hundred bots. The growth interface will let you create more once you are comfortable with them. The thing most of your siblings struggled with at first was all the extra input to the brain. You¡¯ll want to take it easy at first. With the new implant hardware, you¡¯ll have even more sensory connections than they did. Don¡¯t be afraid to put the bots into sleep mode if you feel overwhelmed. It takes some getting used to. Stick to a few hours a day at first, then build up from there.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to do that,¡± I assure him.


    ¡°Excellent.¡± He turns to type some commands into his computer. ¡°I¡¯m connecting them to your interface now. You should start to feel them. I¡¯m going to turn on the inputs, one by one.¡±


    The sensation is weird. I can feel them. They¡¯re me, but they¡¯re not me.


    ¡°It¡¯s like I have an extra patch of skin I can feel through.¡±


    ¡°An apt analogy,¡± Father says approvingly. ¡°The tactile sensations give you basic status indications for the health and location of the cloud. You¡¯ll feel where they are in relation to you. If your bots are damaged, you¡¯ll feel it like a little prickle in the direction where the bots were lost. Here, I¡¯m going to break one of them so you¡¯ll know what to feel for.¡±


    He glances into the air next to him and I feel a pinch on my new non-skin skin.


    ¡°Ow!¡± It doesn¡¯t really hurt, but it surprises me how real it feels.


    ¡°Just a pinprick, enough to get your attention. You¡¯ll also feel pressure when they push up against something. The feedback makes it easy to position them when you want to use them to exert force.¡±


    He looks at me expectantly and I give him a nod. He turns to his cabinet and pulls three brightly colored blocks from one of the shelves. ¡°Let¡¯s practice, then. Use your bots to push each of these to the floor.¡±


    He lays them out on the smooth metal surface of his operating table.


    ¡°Do your best on this, son. And don¡¯t worry about accidentally hurting yourself or me. The limiters on the speed and force the bots can exert will keep you from doing any real damage.¡±


    I flip on the selection mode like in the emulator and see the bots light up in my vision overlay, floating in the air above Father¡¯s desk. I know it¡¯s just an overlay provided by the console, but it looks just like each one is glowing with a warm red light. I use my eyes to draw a selection block around all of them and make them into a group.


    ¡°Good progress. Now how are you going to approach the task of clearing the table?¡±


    I issue a series of commands pulling a single bot from the group, turning it blue in my overlay. I navigate it to my fingertip and then command it to attach there. It¡¯s a strange sensation at first, feeling the bot against my finger and my finger against the bot. It¡¯s so alien, feeling my own skin from the outside.


    I wave my finger and the blue bot stays firmly attached. Father looks on in anticipation. I think he has an idea of what I¡¯m about to do. I could have taken the simplest path, put the bots into formation and used the vision follow mode to push them against the blocks, but what fun would that be? I pull another bot out of the main group. The overlay turns it green as I make it attach to the base of my finger. I give my hand a little flex and a wave, both bots stay in place.


    ¡°May I assume based on your attention to your hand that you are considering a gesture-based control scheme?¡± Father asks.


    ¡°Yeah, I put a bot here and here, and now I have reference points. With those, I can do a little math and navigate the bots in three-space without needing to use the vision follow system. I took the liberty of writing a little bit of code for this and testing it in the emulator. Let¡¯s see how it does in the real world.¡±


    I form the rest of the bots into a glowing red sphere and enable the finger controls. I wave my finger and the red ball of bots floats through the air, following where I point. I retract my finger and the cluster comes toward me. I flick out and the ball moves away. I bring it back in close and hold my hand still, letting it hover. Father is almost jumping in anticipation.


    ¡°Ready?¡± I ask him. He nods eagerly.


    I aim my hand at the first block, then flick forward. The ball of bots jets out and knocks the block from the table. I point at the second one and retract my finger, knocking the block toward me as the ball returns to hover right in front of me. I point and flex my finger to swing the bots back, stopping them just before they hit the third block. I make them slowly approach it, feeling them just kiss the surface. I flex my thumb, triggering another program that I bound there. The ball of bots flattens itself against the block and each one grips the microscopic variations on the smooth-looking surface. I give my finger a twirl. The bots spin around in a circle, pulling the block with them until the spin on it makes the edges a blur. I twitch my hand upward, kicking the ball so that it arcs up into the air just shy of the ceiling, then catch it as it falls.


    ¡°Very nicely done, Noah,¡± Father proclaims as I hand him the hollow plastic cube.


    ¡°Thanks. I worked hard on it.¡±


    ¡°I can see that you did. Technical expertise and just a bit of showmanship. An exceptional performance. Now go practice. Don¡¯t limit yourself to a single control system. There are many situations where gesture based controls like this are nice, but you¡¯ll want to experiment with other techniques as well. Use your imagination. I expect great things from you.¡±


    ¡±I¡¯ll do my best,¡± I promise him. My loving Father reaches over to his desk and picks up my phone, pulling the cable from it as he does.


    DEBUG INTERFACE TERMINATED


    The murdering old bastard hands me my phone. I take it with my very best fake smile. It¡¯s good to have my thoughts back to myself again.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, son. I¡¯m so pleased to have your help. You and I will do great things. Great things.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Father,¡± I tell him, forcing my voice into the cheerful tone I use with him. ¡°And thanks again for trusting me with a cloud. I¡¯m excited to save the world with you.¡±


    That should keep him happy for a while. His face does that crooked smile and I swear I see a little droplet of a tear forming in one corner of his eye. I leave him to think about what a great father he is to his long-lost stolen son.


    The little two-finger control scheme I used in the lab wasn¡¯t bad for a start, but I¡¯m looking forward to seeing what I can actually do with these bots with some real time and effort.


    Mon 07/04 10:32:33 PDT


    ¡°Ready!¡± Father calls. ¡°Shields up!¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    SHIELD


    I duck and tuck as my cloud swarms into action. The dirt under me gives way as the bots consume the material to provide extra bulk to the shell they form around me. A light glow suffuses the inner surface as the morning sun disappears, then that goes away too, and I¡¯m trapped in blackness.


    ¡°Safe,¡± I hear in my earbud from Chad. Of course he¡¯s first. No one can do blind obedience quite like Chad.


    ¡°Safe,¡± I call out.


    ¡°Safe,¡± Louise claims third.


    ¡°Safe.¡± Evan is right behind her.


    An affirmative hum comes through the earpiece from Andrea.


    ¡°Safe.¡± Marc gets his done.


    ¡°Safe.¡± Jeff is last, as usual. I think he has trouble ducking and pulling in his arms with his own muscle power since his whole cloud is occupied building his shield.


    ¡°Better that time,¡± Father declares. ¡°Excellent work, my children. All tucked away in less than thirty seconds. Come on out now.¡±


    I release the shield. A groaning cheer rises up as we each climb out of the shallow holes our shields made. No one likes shield practice. They might keep us alive in a pinch, but they¡¯re not at all comfortable. The shell is permeable enough that we won¡¯t suffocate, but it gets hot and claustrophobic inside.


    ¡°I¡¯ve talked to some of my old friends in the Air Force,¡± Father says as he fills all the holes with a wave of his hand. ¡°We¡¯ll be bringing in some volunteers from the base at Nellis to provide a live fire drill in a few weeks. I want you ready for a real emergency scenario.¡±


    He¡¯s bringing in soldiers to shoot at us for practice? I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯s crazy or just trying to make sure we all inherit his god complex. If things go wrong, I guess he has enough spare children that it¡¯s worth the risk. All of us are just guinea pigs.


    ¡°Construction time again,¡± Father calls. He tears down our first round of builds with another wave of his hand. It¡¯s unnerving seeing him level buildings with no apparent effort and knowing that¡¯s what I¡¯m up against when I finally strike. ¡°Jeff, Andrea, and Evan, dig a well there. Chad and Marc, give us a shelter there. Louise and Noah, a solar farm there if you would, please.¡±


    The solar panels are easy. Really, all the construction is. The plans are pre-programmed so you just have to aim your eyes and run the function.


    ¡°You get the base, and I¡¯ll get the panels?¡± I ask Louise.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    Louise is a good partner for the training exercises. Not quite as good as Evan, but I¡¯m just glad it¡¯s not a Chad or Marc day. Louise turns to look at the ground behind her and the parched desert dirt starts roiling. Through a miracle of nanochemistry, the minerals in the dirt ripple and slowly transform into something like a concrete slab. It¡¯s not quite as sturdy as the real stuff, but it¡¯s easily solid enough to support the panels of the solar array. I direct my gaze at the large pile of dirt and rock that is starting to pile up where Evan¡¯s team is digging the well.


    GATHER(SOLAR)


    The bots swarm out and start gathering and refining silicon and trace metals. I have a pile about the right size when Louise is done with the foundation.


    ¡°Ready?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I look at the slab she built and outline the area with my eyes to tell the software where to build.


    BUILD(SOLAR)


    My bots start hauling the sandy material over and printing the panels in place, layer by layer. While they work, I look around the barren landscape. It''s not so different here in Nevada from some of the places we¡¯re going. A few hundred yards away, the lush, manicured green of the campus commons peek through the open gates of the Institute. Life from the desert. That¡¯s what we¡¯ll be creating.


    ¡°Should we set up maintainers?¡± Chad calls over to Father.


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯ll be doing that for all the installations, so we¡¯ll want to practice doing it that way. Looking good there, Chad. Marc, you need to wait until the foundation is complete before you start. It needs a level surface or the software can¡¯t build a stable structure.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure how Marc manages to botch his build every time. It¡¯s amazing how many different ways he can figure out to fail. At least he doesn¡¯t seem to be repeating the same mistakes, so maybe he¡¯s learning.


    MAINTAIN(20)


    I feel the now-familiar prick on my non-skin as a batch of twenty bots reprogram themselves to maintain the panels and detach from my cloud.


    I get a slack feeling as my bots finish their job and spread out into their idle default configuration.


    ¡°Done over here, Father,¡± Louise calls.


    ¡°Are we doing a flywheel or battery for storage?¡± I ask as Father comes over to check our work.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do a flywheel this time,¡± Father replies. ¡°Not all the sites we¡¯ll work will have the trace metals we need for batteries.¡±


    Building batteries requires access to any of several specific sets of minerals, but we can build the flywheels out of pretty much anything. The implant¡¯s overlay lets me see Louise¡¯s bots spread out and start scrounging the metallic elements we¡¯ll need for the electronic hardware.


    BUILD(FLYWHEEL-CASING)


    My bots rush to the square that my eyes trace out and build the enclosure. It¡¯s finished just in time for Louise to start on the motor/generator and magnetic bearings at the base.


    BUILD(FLYWHEEL)


    Tiny bits of material start flying through the air between the pile of dirt from the well and the enclosure. The dots form into concentric rings as the materials are sorted by density and then fused into a disk a meter across. A second disc forms above it, then a third, each one fusing to the one below. A dozen discs later, the flywheel is complete and mounted. Louise caps it and covers the enclosure. A hiss escapes as the pump she creates pulls all the air from the box. Running in a vacuum like that, the flywheel should be able to store all the solar energy our panels can gather for several days. Or until Father wipes everything down so we can practice building it again.


    ¡°Good, now run the lines to the shelter,¡± Father calls out, seeing that we¡¯re finished.


    BUILD(WIRES)


    I aim my eyes along the path between the panel¡¯s electrical leads and the leads at the base of the shelter, with a little jog to connect the flywheel. The cloud rushes along the path, finding and fusing conductive minerals and then sheathing them in ceramic shielding. We walk over as the light in the shelter turns on. Marc and Chad finally got it all put together. Andrea walks in carrying a bottle of clear water pumped from the new well. Jeff and Evan trail behind her.


    ¡°Good work, everyone,¡± Father declares.


    He¡¯s right, it was. Despite all the dust and the heat of the morning sun, despite the sweat running down my back and the start of the sunburn on my neck, I¡¯m feeling good. I¡¯m excited to do this where the water and power will change people¡¯s lives.


    Father dismisses us, but we all linger to watch as he tears everything down again with another slow wave of his hand. The building tears itself down to rubble, which turns into sand before our eyes. The sand levels itself out, leaving our work zone as neat as a playground sandbox. He leaves the well. I wonder why for a moment, then I see some of the nursery kids coming out through the campus gates. Father chuckles as he turns on the well pump and watches a spray of water arc up and over the sand.


    ¡°What would you say if we made the Fourth of July a beach day?¡± he asks no one in particular.


    So they do celebrate some holidays here. I wasn¡¯t sure. This place is so weird, but the little kids don¡¯t care. The trickle of small sibs turns into a flood as word spreads. Soon, the toddlers are having a ball running in and out of the shower of water and stomping in the sandy puddles. A pool starts forming under Father¡¯s gaze, only a foot or so deep but that seems to be plenty for the little ones. Shoes fly off as the kids jump barefoot into the water. Sandy mud flies everywhere. Nannies look on from a safe distance, smiling at their charges.


    ¡°Happy holiday!¡± Father declares. ¡°Today, we celebrate!

 Mon 07/11 23:57:14 PDT, Fri 07/15 16:23:08 PDT, and Sun 09/11 03:24:49 PDT

    Mon 07/11 23:57:14 PDT


    Let¡¯s test this out. Got my eye cluster floating here next to my head, giving me a double set of vision. I still get a headache every time I do that, but whatever, it¡¯s fine. Got my tablet screen in front of me, full of my current reading assignment for Mrs. Jones''s class. Got my optical character recognition code ready to go. If this works, my life is about to get a whole lot easier.


    CAPTURE-TEXT


    Ff1dster 5ofdko 50g##5f etrokw 02e4 okqltk f9rgw otw tiwfjw fdwa _f%321


    Nope. That¡¯s not right. What am I doing wrong? The image capture code is fine, I verified that days ago. The format conversion seems to be working. I double check the routine that feeds the converter and bridges the two. Ahh. There it is on line 1043. Well, that was dumb. Let me fix that.


    Trying again.


    CAPTURE-TEXT


    Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen, few in pursuit of the goal.


    Yes! It works! Now I can record any text that I look at with my nanobot eyes. I¡¯m tempted to run to Jeff¡¯s room to tell him about it, but he¡¯s probably asleep by now. Credit where it¡¯s due, Jeff¡¯s code did the bulk of the hard stuff by getting the visual inputs into a decent data format. All I had to do was port an open source optical character recognition library into the SynTech programming language. It cost me a week of late nights, but it¡¯s worth it.


    CAPTURE-TEXT


    CAPTURE-TEXT


    CAPTURE-TEXT


    I flip through my assigned reading, capturing it all into my electronic brain supplement one screen at a time. Manually running the text capture command gets to be a drag pretty quickly, so I set up a trigger on two fingers. I think I can do better than that though, maybe optimize this to capture text automatically whenever I see any. I¡¯ll wait to tell Jeff about it until I have the code in better shape. A few more nights of work should do it. I was looking forward to getting more sleep once I got this working, but between practicing controlling the nanobots and working on this coding project, I¡¯m getting used to only getting a few hours a night. Might as well keep it up. Sleep is overrated.


    I¡¯ve got five hours before I need to get up for morning training. One more hour of work, then I¡¯ll let myself rest.


    Fri 07/15 16:23:08 PDT


    Five days in and my text scraper is finally where I want it, working like a champ. Mrs. Jones¡¯ class is a breeze now that I always have everything written down in front of me. I still need to do the work when it comes to actually understanding things, but the burden of remembering anything is fully off my shoulders.


    Mr. Johnson¡¯s class is still rough. A perfect memory helps me with keeping the formulas straight, but doesn¡¯t help me choose which one to use on a problem or help me break down the math to solve it. I wonder if there are any good open source math solvers out there. If I could get something like that working, that should take out more than half the work in his class.


    Come to think of it, since I can pull in code from outside now, it might be better to build an interpreter that lets me run standard Java and C++ programs. That would save me the effort of porting a lot of code. I¡¯ll put that on the docket for my sleepless nights starting tonight.


    While I write code for my computer lab assignment on the computer in front of me, I let my three extra eyes float around the lab and see what everyone else is working on. With the practice I¡¯ve been doing, running three bot eyes isn¡¯t too bad for me anymore. I¡¯d like to run half a dozen like Louise can, but every time I add a new one I have to deal with another round of headaches and nausea. I¡¯ll bump it up to four on Monday, take it slow. I almost gave up trying to read out of more than one set of eyes at a time early on, but I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t. A couple of days of splitting headaches and not being able to keep any food down were worth it once it started getting easier. Now I just need to convince Evan that I don¡¯t have an eating disorder.


    The text capture feature is not only good for what I originally wanted it for, but it¡¯s also great for stealing code. Evan and Louise are always willing to walk me through anything they¡¯re working on, so with them it doesn¡¯t even feel like stealing. More like being efficient about accepting what they¡¯re sharing. I¡®m sitting between the two of them in the lab and one of my electronic eyes just lazily swings between their two screens and absorbs all their code as they create it.


    Evan¡¯s code is solid, but it¡¯s nothing I think I need right now. I grab it all just to have it, but I don¡¯t see a lot of immediate need for a next-generation water desalinator. Louise¡¯s miniaturization work is brilliant and much more useful. She¡¯s got code that improves the efficiency of a lot of the default algorithms. Her smaller version of the bot eyes are all I use anymore. She¡¯s also fantastic at anything that deals with the way the implant interfaces with the brain. I used to think that Jeff was the best programmer out of my sibs, but I¡¯m starting to think it might be Louise instead.


    One of my eyes floats by Marc¡¯s workstation. The block of code that flows into one of my capture windows is total garbage. As usual, the program he¡¯s writing isn¡¯t worth taking. It¡¯s so riddled with bugs that even if it did something I wanted, I would end up spending more time debugging it than it would take me to just write it from scratch. I dump the captured text instead of letting it get saved into my storage. Some people just don¡¯t have the right kind of mind for programming.


    Chad¡¯s code isn¡¯t much better. He¡¯s so incredibly unimaginative. No wonder he never collaborates with anyone in the lab, he couldn¡¯t contribute a good idea if his life depended on it. He just brute forces his way through all of his assignments. No elegance, no clever algorithms, not even an attempt at efficiency. I dump that code buffer too.


    Andrea¡¯s code is fascinating, full of extremely complex math that¡¯s the hallmark of graphics processing. It¡¯s also almost unreadable. She seems to have given up natural language in her code as much as she has in real life. Her variable names are nonsense, just random words or people¡¯s names, making it very hard to follow what her code is doing. I keep the code anyway. When I run it I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get a magical pink unicorn floating in the air or something. I¡¯ll try it later when there¡¯s no one around.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    There. Lab homework done and submitted. The assignments have finally caught up to my real skill level now, so my days of easy cruising in here are over. On the upside, I¡¯m actually learning new things about programming again, which isn¡¯t a bad thing. And even slowing down I¡¯ve somehow managed to keep my reputation with Father and my sibs as the world¡¯s fastest learner.


    Time to switch over to my research project. Digging into the ways that nanochemistry can make water filtration more efficient is fascinating, and I¡¯m quickly caught up in the zone. I barely notice the steady streams of other people¡¯s code that I¡¯m still bringing into the electronic part of my memory, or when most of them stop coming in as my siblings trickle out of the lab. It¡¯s like the whole process is getting automatic for me as my brain gets used to doing it.


    ¡°You coming, man?¡± Evan asks as he logs off his workstation and gets up. ¡°Or are you starving yourself again today?¡±


    ¡°Is it dinner time already?¡± I ask absently.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s half an hour past dinner time, and I¡¯m hungry,¡± he replies. ¡°You coming?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, give me a few to finish this up,¡± I tell him. ¡°Go ahead and I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±


    He nods and heads out, leaving me alone in the lab. I should go eat. I¡¯m getting skinnier than I want to be. I¡¯m not like Jeff skinny yet, my bones don¡¯t show through my skin anywhere, but I had more muscle mass when I got here.


    Jeff glides into the lab, as if magically summoned by my thoughts.


    ¡°Hey, Jeff.¡±


    ¡°Good evening, Noah,¡± he says with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head. He takes a seat at one of the empty workstations, sitting down with his mechanical and disturbing precision, his joints bending exactly enough to place him in the chair. ¡°How has your work progressed with the text recognition code that we discussed?¡±


    I¡¯ve been hoping to avoid this conversation. I don¡¯t want to share what I have with him. I mean, obviously he deserves credit for his part. ButI give him a copy, I can¡¯t be sure he won¡¯t drop it into the official repositories or slip up and let Father know about it.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m making progress. I¡¯ll probably have something working in a few weeks,¡± I lie. ¡°Sorry, with the practices in the mornings and everything, I haven¡¯t had a lot of time for it.¡±


    ¡°Understandable,¡± he says in his nearly monotone voice. ¡°Let me know if you get stuck. I may be able to assist.¡±


    I thank him and head out. I feel a twinge of guilt for lying to him, but I squash it down. Whatever edge I can get to find justice for Mom is worth it. The smells of dinner waft from the cafeteria as I walk through the commons. Is it steak night? Evan must have been really deep into the desalinator code he was working on. He always tries to be first in line on steak night, since they only have so many ribeyes and it¡¯s first come, first pick on the steaks. They¡¯re probably down to just sirloins by now.


    I¡¯ll steal Jeff¡¯s code later, since I still have his password. I¡¯ve been swiping everything he writes whenever I¡¯m alone in the lab and can log into his account. It¡¯s good code, but the comments seem a little weird. Stuff like: ¡°In case of emerging sentience, disable this option¡± or ¡°The others must not know about this.¡±


    He¡¯s a funny kid, that Jeff.


    Anyway, those growing piles of code from my siblings are creating another task for me to do. I need to reverse engineer the sensor and feedback setups each of them have set up. If I can do that, I can consolidate everyone¡¯s stolen code to use a standardized set of sensors. With that, I should be able to do everything that any of them have figured out how to do the same way they do it.


    Of course, then I would also need to make time to practice actually using their triggers. It doesn¡¯t do me any good to have Andrea¡¯s gesture library if I don¡¯t practice and internalize what gesture is supposed to do what. More time that I don¡¯t have. Even with my cheats on the classwork, my schedule is packed. And I can¡¯t slack off. If Father stops getting those glowing reports from my teachers or sees me faltering in my research work, he might rethink the whole idea that I¡¯m good enough to join his world-saving crusade and demote me back to lab rat.


    More late nights then. Good thing Mom taught me never to be afraid of a little hard work.


    Sun 09/11 03:24:49 PDT


    It¡¯s late, and I¡¯m so tired, but I want to get this written down before I crash.


    We spent the whole day today on our last Saturday excursion before we leave for Africa on Monday. The destinations on these trips are usually fine, but nothing special. Every once in a while they even sound good enough that I¡¯m willing to take the time to go. But today was great. We went to an indoor amusement park in Vegas. Everyone went except the nursery kids. As usual on these trips, we had to leave our phones back at campus, which is why I¡¯m just writing this up now after all my after-hours coding is done.


    Anyway, we rolled out this morning in the electric buses. As we passed through the vast fields of solar panels and massive monolithic batteries covering the desert between here and there, Marc took the opportunity to point out to the younger classes how Father had used those empty miles of sand to save the Earth. With their cheap and nearly unlimited power production, they turned the whole western half of the country off of coal and set off a wave of green power development all over the world. I remember similar installations back home in Colorado, with massive lines carrying the power eastward. I hadn¡¯t realized back when I lived there that those were Father¡¯s work.


    Anyway, when we got to the park, we had the whole place rented out just for us. Roller coasters, bumper cars, games, junk food, sodas, the whole works. No lines. Indoors. My mom took me to Disneyland once, but the sweltering summer sun and the long lines kept me from wanting to go again. This place though, I¡¯d go there every week if I could.


    Chad organized a giant laser tag game, splitting all the classes into two armies. Evan, Louise and I dominated, rallying our little teammates against Chad, Marc, and Andrea¡¯s team. Even Chad seemed to relax and loosen up, though he wasn¡¯t happy about having his butt handed to him.


    Jeff was the only one who didn¡¯t have much fun, I think mostly because of the no clouds rule. He had to actually walk around, like with his leg muscles. That¡¯s a rare sight, and an awkward one. He just looked like he was in pain the whole time. He spent half the day sitting on benches catching his breath.


    I stuck with Louise through the first part of the day. This was the first time she¡¯s actually worked up the courage to leave campus. She had a panic attack getting on the bus, but I nudged her along and the breathing trick worked. She got over it, and we had a good ride. She had another one when we arrived. I breathed with her and by the time we took our first roller coaster ride, she was having as much fun as the rest of us.


    Having siblings is still weird for me, but days like today make me wish Mom had wanted more kids. I know it¡¯s not a normal family dynamic, but I really love my sibs. Even Marc. Even Chad, a little, when he¡¯s not being a dick.


    I¡¯m tired though. I haven¡¯t slept more than a few hours a night for months. I¡¯m going to finish writing this up and then crash. I can even sleep in since there¡¯s nothing on the schedule except our travel. I want to be at my best for this trip. I have to admit I¡¯m more than a little excited.

 Sun 09/11 18:12:48 PDT, Tue 09/13 07:38:48 EAT, and Tue 09/13 08:14:36 EAT

    Sun 09/11 18:12:48 PDT


    Father¡¯s jet looms above us, the boxy robot from the SynTech logo smiling down at us from its side. A warm breeze blows in from the vast tracts of sand around our private airstrip.


    ¡°Have any of you ever flown on this?¡± I whisper to my favorite brother.


    ¡°No,¡± Evan replies. ¡°We¡¯ve never flown on anything before.¡±


    The tail lights of the cars that brought us out here fade out then disappear off in the distance toward the campus. I wander over next to Louise and hear her breathing, deep and slow. She¡¯s keeping herself together. Marc continues his monologue about how excited he is to no one in particular. Finally, the door of the jet swings open and Father emerges.


    ¡°All aboard!¡± he calls.


    He didn¡¯t need to say a word. As soon as he appeared, we all started rushing upwards. Even Jeff takes the stairs two at a time. Inside, the plane looks nothing like the commercial jets I¡¯ve flown in before. The main cabin with its cushy reclining chairs surrounding a long thin table reminds me more of a corporate boardroom than anything.


    ¡°Welcome to my Airbus A318 Elite,¡± Father says in his most gracious voice. ¡°It was my first real splurge once SynTech took off. Even buying it used, I paid a small fortune for her. She¡¯s also the only all-electric jet of its kind, thanks to some modifications of my own design, which cost another fortune to get approved. But a man needs a few vices.¡± He smiles his crooked smile.


    I wonder if it¡¯s less impressive for my siblings who have never known the joy of packing like sardines into the coach section of commercial flights. For me, this embodies a life of luxury I¡¯ve only seen in movies. I grab one of the empty seats and settle in.


    ¡°I love this jet,¡± Father says wistfully. ¡°Back when I worked for a living, not long after I took my company public, I used to fly my company¡¯s board to retreats on her. We¡¯d discuss strategy right here at this table. We would always end up getting as much work done here on the way there as we did the rest of the trip. Please, go ahead and get comfortable. This is going to be a long flight. It will be almost twenty-four hours before we land in Djibouti.¡±


    A trim blonde woman emerges from the back of the jet. ¡°All set back here, Tom,¡± she announces. ¡°We can go whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°My children,¡± Father says, directing an open hand in her direction, ¡°this is Cindy. She¡¯s been taking care of me while I travel for years now, and she¡¯ll take good care of all of you as well. Cindy, I¡¯d like you to meet Evan, Noah, Louise, Andrea, Jeff, Marc, and Chad.¡± He points to each of us as he names us off.


    ¡°Well it¡¯s just so nice to meet y¡¯all! Tom¡¯s been bragging on you for as long as I can remember.¡± She puts a hand on his arm and gives it a squeeze. ¡°Now, some announcements: Bob and Brian will be our flight crew today. They¡¯re up front, but unless you bump into one of them coming to or from the restroom you probably won¡¯t see much of them. There is a bedroom with a set of bunks in the back if you need to lie down. Did everyone have a good dinner before you came on board?¡±


    We all nod, even though I know most of us were too nervous to take more than a few bites in the cafeteria.


    ¡°Good,¡± she says, flashing white teeth behind her bright red lips. ¡°Then the next meal will be breakfast, but if any of you want any snacks or drinks, you just let me know.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re fine for now, Cindy,¡± Father answers for us. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Then let me take care of the bit that I have to say. The seatbelts on your seats should be buckled while we take off and land. If the weather gets choppy, the pilots will let us know and you can buckle in for safety. The exits are the way you came in or the two emergency exits, that one there or the one in the back there. Any questions?¡±


    She flashes her ruby-red smile again and looks around at us.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any questions, but you sure are pretty,¡± Marc says.


    Thanks Marc, now she thinks we¡¯re freaks.


    ¡°Oh, aren¡¯t you sweet!¡± she laughs, handling his awkwardness amazingly well. ¡°Tom, you didn¡¯t tell me you had a little charmer in training. I can see you¡¯ve been raising these boys well.¡±


    ¡±Thank you,¡± Father says as he shakes his head in obvious embarrassment. I¡¯m glad I¡¯m not the only one mortified.


    Cindy disappears into the back of the jet and Father turns to address us. ¡°You¡¯ll all need to put your clouds into sleep mode if you haven¡¯t yet. I know, I know. The frequencies we use don¡¯t affect the controls, but they still insist on it. Once your bots are asleep, please hand me your phones and I¡¯ll power them down. Even the minimal signals they use to communicate with the implants aren¡¯t allowed. They¡¯ll have to stay off the whole trip. I¡¯ll return them to you when we get there.¡±


    SLEEP-MODE


    Tue 09/13 07:38:48 EAT


    SynTech OS v.3.0.2.0462


    IMPLANT INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    There we go, feeling normal again now. I didn¡¯t realize what it would do to have the implant powered down. It¡¯s like having a limb removed. Not painful, just missing. Worse yet, I had to do my own remembering for a whole day.


    ¡°All up and running?¡± Father asks.


    ¡°Yeah, the overlay is up,¡± I report. ¡°The setting all seems right. Everything looks good.¡±


    ¡°Double check your bots and make sure they¡¯re responding as well, please.¡±


    LIGHT-SHOW


    I gesture with my right hand and light up a spinning cluster of red, blue and green spheres above my fingertips, courtesy of code I stole from my sister.


    ¡°Impressive, though that looks like something Andrea would make.¡±


    Oops. Maybe too blatant of a copy. I tweaked the colors and physics a little from the original, but I should probably have customized it more.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, looking over at her. ¡°Her designs definitely inspired it.¡±


    She looks back and just gives me one of her radiant smiles, taking my supposed imitation as a compliment. Father shrugs and starts on the next sibling in line, running his diagnostics and bringing Jeff¡¯s implant back up. That will take a while, which is fine. I need to get some things written down that happened while I couldn¡¯t live-journal them.


    I¡¯m worried about Louise. That girl is a straight-up junkie.


    She did fine for the first few hours. The whole trip had kind of a road-trip-meets-game-night feel to it. We put on some old movies in the background while we played card games, ate snacks, and just kind of hung out. Then, around bedtime, she started getting irritable. No, irritable isn¡¯t the right word. Angry. Snapping at everyone. At that point we were playing poker with M&Ms for money. It turns out Chad sucks at it, but Marc is surprisingly good at bluffing. Anyway, everyone was getting along, playing, joking, and having a good time. I even forgot that I needed to take down Father for a little while.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    But then Louise got that look.


    I knew a guy back in Colorado that got into some harder drugs, like more than just weed. Not a friend, just a guy I¡¯d see around at school. You could tell what he was up to, it wasn¡¯t rocket science to figure it out. He skipped school a lot. When he came in, he was either smiling and quiet, or he had this look on his face. Not quite hunger, not quite anger, but some of both mixed with a whole lot of desperation. It was a distinctive expression that I hadn¡¯t ever seen on anyone else. Until yesterday on the plane when Louise got that look.


    She excused herself after snapping at everyone a few dozen times and headed back to the bedroom in the back. She said she had a headache. I went and checked on her an hour later. She was sitting in the dark on the edge of one of the bunks, looking pale, digging her nails into her palms. I could see where they were starting to bleed. Her lower lip was purpling up with bruises where she was biting it. Her hair was damp with sweat. And that look. That junkie look.


    Dammit, Louise.


    It all clicked then. Louise is an addict to whatever she¡¯s been doing with her implant to release dopamine or whatever it was. It had barely been eight hours without it, and she was already showing withdrawal symptoms. With our implants disabled, she couldn¡¯t get her fix.


    ¡°You know what¡¯s going on, right?¡± I asked her quietly.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± she snapped.


    I knelt down on the floor next to her and waited, silent.


    ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± she said finally.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± I told her, trying to keep my voice reassuring and not furious at her for doing this to herself. ¡°Like with your panic attacks.¡±


    ¡°OK.¡±


    She breathed with the slow, deep breaths she had practiced. Again. Again.


    ¡°Are you nauseous?¡± I asked. ¡°I hear that happens with withdrawal.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Everything just hurts. And I hate everyone right now.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I wished I had something better to say, but I didn¡¯t.


    ¡°What am I going to do?¡± she said, her voice thick with desperation. ¡°If he finds out, he¡¯ll take it away, and I¡¯ll never get it back. I need it.¡±


    ¡°Hold out,¡± I told her. ¡°If anyone asks, we¡¯ll tell them it was a panic attack because you¡¯re nervous about the trip.¡±


    Father popped back to check on us after a few minutes. The panic attack story worked, and he didn¡¯t look too closely at Louise. I ended up staying with her for a long time. She held onto my hand like it was a lifeline and she was drowning. Her eyes got distant, but she kept on breathing and gripping. After a while, she fell asleep, still clutching my hand. I didn¡¯t want to wake her by pulling away, and I wasn¡¯t sleepy yet, so I grabbed a paperback book off the shelf nearby with my other hand. It was some old Asimov anthology. I read it until I fell asleep, sitting there on the floor. The next thing I remember is Cindy touching my shoulder.


    ¡°You about ready for breakfast, hon?¡± she asked quietly.


    I snapped awake and did what I could to keep her attention off of Louise. ¡°Yeah, that sounds good. Can I give you a hand with anything?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯ve got to earn my keep. You head on up to the main cabin. I¡¯ll have something out for y¡¯all in just a minute.¡±


    She moved her hand toward Louise but I stopped her and told her Louise asked to sleep in. She didn¡¯t seem suspicious, so I followed her out and closed the door. Back in the main cabin, most of the rest of the sibs were already up. Andrea put on another movie and Marc was shuffling cards and trying to get a game of gin going. Evan snored loudly in his chair. Father was working on something on his tablet, and Chad was trying to copy him by doing something with his. No one asked how Louise was doing. After the night before, they must have been glad that she wasn¡¯t there snapping at them.


    Louise slept for most of the rest of the flight. I alternated between sitting with her and covering for her with lies to everyone else. I tried to get her to eat, but she refused everything. I wasn¡¯t hungry, but I ate some of her meals so the others wouldn¡¯t know. She finally sat up again toward the end of the flight. I got her to drink a little water, but she didn¡¯t want anything else. She asked how long until we arrived. I told her it was a couple more hours. She cried again and fell back to sleep. She was still out when Father started rebooting our implants.


    Tue 09/13 08:14:36 EAT


    I keep everyone out of the plane¡¯s bedroom to cover for Louise until it¡¯s her turn to get her implant turned back on. When she¡¯s up next, I sneak some paper towels to her from the bathroom so she can clean up. She gives me a grateful smile.


    ¡°Might want to take precautions for the trip back,¡± I whisper to her.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll reduce my dosage and taper off a couple of days before. Should help with the symptoms. Thanks for everything. Still secret keepers?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She heads to the main cabin and keeps it together enough that no one seems to suspect anything. Father gets started on her implant and a few minutes later she¡¯s all smiles.


    Junkie.


    ¡°Good, good!¡± Father declares. ¡°Now, does everyone remember our goals?¡±


    ¡°Preserve life¡ª¡± Chad starts.


    ¡°No, sorry,¡± Father interrupts. ¡°That¡¯s always laudable, but I was referring to our more specific goals here in Djibouti.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Chad says, making sure he answers again before any of the rest of us have a chance. ¡°Power generation and a large desalination plant for the capital city.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t see why we can¡¯t just dig them more wells,¡± Marc complains. ¡°That¡¯s easier.¡±


    I shake my head. We covered this a hundred times in the training sessions this summer.


    ¡°Who wants to remind Marc of the groundwater situation?¡± Father asks.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t any source of new water coming into the groundwater supply for most of the year,¡± Evan says. ¡°No rivers, hardly any rain outside of the rainy season. If we dig more wells to supply water to the half million people in the capital, we¡¯d empty the wells in all the surrounding areas.¡±


    ¡°Very good, Evan. Now, there have already been some attempts to supply the city with fresh water through desalination. Unfortunately, the existing infrastructure only supplies enough water for about a quarter of the city¡¯s inhabitants that way. Conventional desalination methods are also energy intensive, which is a problem. Tell us why please, Noah.¡±


    ¡°Their power generation is either geothermal, which they can¡¯t scale up, or petroleum based,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Right!¡± Father declares. ¡°So, to increase their power and water production, they¡¯d have to correspondingly increase both their pollution output and their dependence on their neighbors across the gulf. Investment from further east has been their only other alternative, but that comes with strings that create unsustainable geopolitical situations. But back to our current mission. What¡¯s the other big problem here that we¡¯ll be helping with? Andrea?¡±


    Andrea waves her hands and a stick figure image appears. A man with a pickaxe flashes then reappears with a red circle with a slash through it. Father chuckles.


    ¡°Well put. No work. A lack of jobs. Most of the available jobs are service work, many of them involved with running the port. Due to the lack of local industry or agriculture options, unemployment numbers are nearly fifty percent in the city. The desalination plant will provide water that can be used to kickstart agricultural projects and salty sludge byproducts that can be leveraged into commercial salt production as well as the extraction of valuable trace minerals. Our gift of cost-free power production will allow electrification of the entire city. There are still significant parts that have never been wired. With abundant and cheap energy and water, there will be strong incentives for local infrastructure efforts, private investment, and new business development.¡±


    I wish he¡¯d get on with it. We all remember this from the training sessions, except obviously Marc, and explaining it one more time won¡¯t make a difference for him.


    ¡°One last reminder,¡± Father says. ¡°Most of the people here speak some combination of Somali, Afar, Arabic, or French. But when we talk with our guides, and with any other English speakers, what two subjects will we absolutely not discuss?¡±


    ¡°Religion and politics,¡± all of us except Andrea answer in unison.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯d hate to have this trip cut short due to misunderstandings.¡± He smiles his crooked smile. ¡°Now for today: we have some preparations to see to. I will focus on growing my cloud so that I have enough nanobots to build the desalination plant superstructure tomorrow. You will all bring your clouds to as large a size as you feel you can handle. The construction algorithms scale well with the size of your clouds, so more bots will mean faster work and more time to enjoy the trip and play tourist. We¡¯ll spend the morning at a site that has all the necessary minerals to grow as large as you feel you can. When you¡¯ve hit capacity, you are free to explore the city with your guides. We¡¯ll split into four pairs and each of our guides will have a vehicle, so you can head back to town as soon as you and your buddy are done building up your clouds.¡±


    I lock eyes with Evan, and we both nod. The girls do the same with each other. Jeff sighs and looks at Marc. Marc smiles back, oblivious to his brother¡¯s disdain. Chad¡¯s grin tells me exactly how thrilled he is for more quality suck-up time with Father.


    ¡°We have our groupings,¡± Father says. ¡°Come along now, children. I¡¯ll introduce you to our guides.¡±

 Tue 09/13 10:07:14 EAT and Tue 09/13 12:42:55 EAT

    Tue 09/13 10:07:14 EAT


    Ibrahim points out landmarks as he drives us through the city and out past the shanty towns. The road gets bumpier as the people get scarcer, the ragged paving ending in a dirt track out through the sandy, rocky plains. There¡¯s not much to see here, and Evan looks like he¡¯s about to sack out, so I¡¯ve got a little time to kill.


    DIAGNOSTIC MODE


    I pull up the previous scans from a couple weeks ago and compare them to my live display. Things are shifting around, especially in the areas that the implant uses a lot. Remodeling isn¡¯t supposed to happen this much or this fast. I haven¡¯t noticed any serious deficiencies yet, so maybe I wasn¡¯t using those parts of my brain for anything useful.


    Nothing I can do about it now. Nothing I¡¯m willing to do, anyway. I¡¯m definitely not about to stop using the implant while I¡¯m here.


    Finally, the car stops, and Evan snaps awake like magic. As we get out, Ibrahim hands us each sunscreen and a water bottle. Evan takes the drink but waves off the small plastic tube. Unlike me, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s ever had a bad sunburn in his life. I slather the oily lotion all over my exposed skin as we hike out away from the road. According to Father, this area is not only mineral-rich, but safe enough that we can skip posting a sentry. All we have to do now is get our clouds up to capacity and enjoy the rest of the day.


    GROW


    My cloud spreads out and digs into dirt and rocks. I have to keep doing a mental push on my non-skin as it grows or they¡¯ll stop. This place is perfect, rich in everything they need. They replicate quickly, the hot sun giving them plenty of energy to fuel their growth.


    Looking out across the dry, rocky expanse, I see Father off in the distance sitting under a small canopy. That¡¯s probably smart. I consider asking Ibrahim if he¡¯s got one in the trunk. My cloud feels enormous now, but I¡¯ve still got a good way to go until I get near capacity. The coordinating code I got from Jeff definitely helps, letting me push my limits far beyond what I could before I updated myself with it. I decide against the canopy. At this rate it¡¯ll only take an hour or so to get my cloud where I want it. I can handle the sun for that long.


    Evan and I spread out from each other so we¡¯re not competing for minerals or heat. It was crazy hot out here when we started, but it¡¯s getting pleasantly cool now as my bots continue breeding. Charging the batteries on new bots consumes a lot of energy, and they¡¯ll drink in ambient heat as happily as they¡¯ll take in sunlight. I take a swig from my bottle and consider my options.


    An idea¡¯s been growing in my mind. An idea dark enough that I haven¡¯t even wanted to admit it to myself. But it¡¯s time to stop denying it.


    I want to kill him.


    I don¡¯t want justice. I want vengeance. Tomorrow might be my best shot. He should be vulnerable while he¡¯s building the shell for the desalination plant. With the way the building is designed, he¡¯ll need to throw everything he has at it during the build. He¡¯ll basically be a living three-dimensional printer at that point, focusing all his bots and attention into getting the structure up. He won¡¯t be able to defend himself. At least I think he won¡¯t.


    I¡¯ve got ideas that should let me kill him, even with the limiters on my cloud. Lift a big rock a few hundred yards into the air, then let it go and drop it on his head. Rig up a high tension line using chained bots and use it to form a slingshot or spin a chain around like a sling. Either one of those should get a rock up to killing speed. Six other ways to kill him with a rock, including just taking a rock in my hand and smashing his head in with it.


    There are a couple of downsides. First, I really am on board with the plans for this trip. If he dies tomorrow, the mission is done. I don¡¯t feel comfortable taking away clean water and power from millions of people just because I¡¯m peeved about a little bit of mother killing. Hmm, maybe I¡¯m hitting the acceptance stage of my grief. See, I can even joke about it now.


    The second problem is more practical and immediate. I¡¯d get caught. My siblings will be around all the time. Our vision overlays can spot each others¡¯ bots if we¡¯ve got the option turned on. There¡¯s no way I can kill him without the risk that at least one of them has that layer of the overlay enabled. Killing him by hand would be an even more sure way to get spotted. I¡¯m not sure exactly what my sibs would do, but I imagine killing their father and god wouldn¡¯t go over well. I¡¯d be lucky if they turned me over to the authorities. More likely, Chad would try to kill me on the spot.


    I shouldn¡¯t do it.


    I¡¯d be as bad as he is.


    And I¡¯d get caught.


    Shit.


    My cloud has grown as big as I want it. I stop pushing the growth and let my senses acclimate to the new size of the cloud. I¡¯m enormous. Even with Jeff¡¯s code it still feels unwieldy. The amount of raw power is tremendous, like I could move a mountain. Come to think of it, I could. It would just take a while.


    At this level, I can knock out one of the standard four square meter solar installs in less than a minute if materials are handy. That should be enough to keep up with any of my siblings, other than maybe Jeff. He¡¯s a beast on the building stuff, probably from all the practice he has running his cloud extra sized all the time.


    ¡°You close to done?¡± I call out to Evan.


    ¡°Yeah, just about there,¡± he shouts back.


    I flip on the option in the overlay to take a look at his cloud. It¡¯s about half of what I¡¯m packing. I¡¯m guessing he doesn¡¯t have Jeff¡¯s improvements. After a couple more minutes, Evan gives me a wave and a nod and we head back toward the car. As we near each other, the air around us starts to cloud up with dark dust milling around. The standard distribution pattern that the bots use is no good when we¡¯ve got this many and both of our clouds press in and overlap each other.


    ¡°We better put them away,¡± I say.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I select the whole cloud into a group, then split that group into a hundred smaller ones. I issue a mass command to each of the groups to form spheres as tight as they can go and have all the bots in the group link up with each other. A cluster of one hundred balls like dull, dark ball-bearings form from the dust as the air clears. I unzip my backpack and gesture with my right hand. The balls tumble into the bag. Packed together like this and enclosed so they can''t support themselves with their flight systems, it feels like I''m lugging a backpack full of bricks. No, bricks would be lighter.


    Evan follows my lead, easily shouldering his lighter pack as we take the last few steps to the car. I grab two of the balls back out before I close the zipper and let them break formation and spread out. That should be enough for walking around. And this way I can leave the heavy pack in the car with these bots making a mesh network back to them when we go sightseeing.


    ¡°Hey Ibrahim, what¡¯s good for lunch?¡± Evan asks as he takes his seat.


    ¡°You want local, American, or French?¡± he asks. His accent is thick, but he speaks slowly and clearly.


    ¡°Local,¡± Evan and I say in unison.


    ¡°You like spicy? Or not-so-spicy?¡±


    ¡°Spicy,¡± Evan and I say, together again.


    I definitely picked the right buddy for today. Hopefully I can finally get some decent food after all these months of cafeteria blandness.


    Tue 09/13 12:42:55 EAT


    I grab a chunk of the spongy flatbread that Ibrahim calls lahoh. He nods approvingly, then uses some of it to grab a piece of lamb from the thick sauce. I follow his lead. It¡¯s spicy and delicious, way better than the meals back on campus. We¡¯re halfway through our pizza-sized platter of food when the girls follow their guide through the restaurant door. Both of them are looking a lot tanner since this morning. If I hadn¡¯t nursed Louse through her hell day of withdrawal myself, I wouldn¡¯t have known she¡¯d been through it at all. Evan waves them over to join us.


    They take seats on mats on the floor around our low table. Kofi, their guide, says something to the proprietor in a language I can¡¯t recognize, and another platter appears moments later.


    ¡°You guys want to hit the markets with us after this?¡± Louise asks as she tentatively dabs the lahoh into the sauce. She eyes it suspiciously for a moment before taking a bite, but seems to like it. Andrea digs into the food with no hesitation. She smiles and repeats Louise¡¯s invitation with her eyes.


    ¡°Sure, I guess,¡± I say, giving Evan a glance. ¡°I mean, we hadn¡¯t decided on anything for after lunch yet.¡± He nods approval, his mouth too full of lamb to answer.


    Andrea laughs as I take another big bite. She waves one hand and little icons of a mouth and a stomach appear. The mouth chomps open and closed, then the stomach expands and both images flash away before anyone else at the restaurant notices.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen Noah eat this much either,¡± Louise says. I¡¯m glad she translated, because I wasn¡¯t sure what Andrea meant by it.


    ¡°Well, if the food in the cafeteria tasted this good, I¡¯d eat more.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we can get Father to change it up a little,¡± Evan says, his mouth finally clear as we run out of meat on our shared platter. ¡°We should at least ask. This stuff is amazing.¡±


    The girls agree as they finish up their lunch. Kofi settles our bill as Ibrahim leads us out toward the market district down the street.


    The open-air booths carry a hundred fascinating things I¡¯ll never need. The girls both stock up on long, colorful dresses. Ibrahim and Kofi do the haggling and purchasing, which takes a few minutes every time we buy something. They get some head scarves too. I seem to remember something about those from the briefing, but for some reason my memory is fuzzy and I have to look it up in my log. That¡¯s right. Only the married women here are supposed to wear those. I ask Ibrahim about it, and he says it won¡¯t be a problem if foreigners don¡¯t follow the custom.


    Most of the men here wear pants and shirts that don¡¯t look all that different from my American clothes, so I don¡¯t feel like I need anything, but I pick up some clothes anyway just to have some souvenirs. The only distinctly local menswear that I see hawked at the booths are long wrap skirts. I''m not ready to give up on pants, so I give those a pass, but Evan gets a few. I can see him pulling them off.


    Everywhere we go, all the guys are chewing something that I figure is gum or tobacco until I flick through my briefing files in the console and remember that it¡¯s a mild drug called khat. Evan tries to get Ibrahim to buy us some to try, but he refuses. I guess Father didn¡¯t want us partaking. We don''t have any local money of our own, and we don¡¯t speak the language, so no drugs for us, I guess. Probably for the best. Given what we¡¯re packing in our heads, maybe we shouldn¡¯t experiment with anything mind-altering.


    The afternoon goes fast. The guides take us around to all the big tourist attractions. The Hamoudi Mosque near the markets looks like someone glued a lighthouse to the top of a brick. I guess I was expecting more minarets. We don¡¯t go in, but we get a good look around the outside. When we¡¯re done with that we check out a bunch of French colonial buildings in what Ibrahim calls the European quarter. They¡¯re a little run down, but still fun to see.


    The four of us get to the hotel right in time for our dinner reservation, but we¡¯re the first ones to arrive. From the furniture and decor, the place could have been any upscale hotel in America. Maybe Father thought that would make us more comfortable. The host at the hotel restaurant leads us to some regular-sized tables with chairs, comfortable but not nearly as fun as the low tables and floor mats at our lunch place. I peruse the menu while we wait for Father. They serve a fusion of Middle Eastern, African, and French cooking. It smells great. Maybe I can make up some of the weight I¡¯ve lost this year if we keep coming to places like this. I might even need to hit the rec room¡¯s gym when we get back.


    Jeff and Marc show up next. Marc is wearing one of the wrap skirts, and Jeff is gliding along next to him. I wonder if he¡¯s been doing that all day or if he followed instructions and actually walked while he was out around town. Before I can ask, Chad and Father arrive, coming in through the front doors dressed in suits and ties.


    ¡°See, Chad,¡± Father says, taking us all in with a sweeping glance. ¡°I told you they would be here on time. Your siblings are all very responsible.¡± Chad nods in acknowledgement, holding back his resentful look long enough to let Father turn away from him to sit down.


    Father orders a ton of dishes to eat family style. While we wait for the food, everyone compares notes on their days. Jeff and Marc saw most of the same sights we did, just at different times. Chad and Father built up their clouds, then spent the rest of the day doing interviews with reporters.


    Half a dozen waiters stream from the kitchen to the table and back several times, bringing out a veritable feast. It''s probably the best food I''ve ever tasted. Everyone seems to love it except Chad, who eyes it all suspiciously and only nibbles at the unfamiliar fare. Jeff even eats like a normal person, which is good since he¡¯d probably get us thrown out if he worked his normal methods.


    ¡°Get some good rest tonight,¡± Father announces as we conclude the meal. ¡°We have a big day tomorrow.¡±


    We each get our own room. My only other experience with hotels is when Mom and I used to go on vacation. We always shared one of those hotel rooms with two queen beds, but I never minded that. Mom was so great to just spend time with. I could always talk to her about anything, though I can¡¯t even remember what we used to talk about anymore.


    Toiletries are laid out for me on the bathroom counter. I brush my teeth, strip down to my boxers, and flop onto the big, soft bed. It¡¯s been a long couple of days. I can feel I¡¯m slipping away. The nanobot control lockdown that keeps me from accidentally driving the cloud in my sleep kicks on. Weird, I usually don¡¯t see that happen while I¡¯m still awake.


    Am I still awake?


    Mmmm, sleep.

 Wed 09/14 06:16:04 EAT

    Wed 09/14 06:16:04 EAT


    The site for the desalination plant looms ahead, a clear spot on the rocky coastline a few miles east of the city. Instead of the small cars we had yesterday, Kofi is driving one of those big fifteen-passenger vans loaded up with all of us except Father. The rest of my siblings had the same idea that Evan and I did yesterday, stashing our bloated clouds away in backpacks or duffels, all loaded now in the back of the van. There¡¯s an electric feeling of anticipation. Evan even stays awake the whole drive.


    The van pulls off the road just ahead of some massive piles of chalky-looking minerals. A junkyard¡¯s worth of metal scrap is piled further down the road. Kofi heads around to the back of the van as we pile out through the side door. He grunts with effort as he hands out backpacks, which we accept and open to let loose billowing dusty clouds that disappear as we let our bots spread out. At the bottom of the luggage stack sit two enormous black canvas duffles which Kofi, despite his best efforts, can¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Just unzip them, if you please,¡± Jeff requests. Kofi complies and gets out of the way as a storm of bots as big as all the rest of my siblings¡¯ clouds put together rushes out to disappear into the clear morning air. Someone¡¯s been holding out on me. I wonder where he stashed the code that lets him manage a cloud that size. Not on the lab computers and through official channels, that¡¯s for sure. Must be a little of that Jeff paranoia in action. Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll get it from him later, one way or the other.


    Jeff looks around triumphantly. None of my sibs seems to notice or care except Chad, who gives him a dirty look. I meet Jeff¡¯s seeking gaze and give him a congratulatory smile, which he seems to appreciate. I eye-flick a few options in the overlay and compare my siblings clouds by the numbers. Heh. No wonder Chad is acting pissy about it, his cloud is the smallest one here, losing out even to Marc¡¯s.


    I walk over to the work site, where small red flags outline a huge rectangle on the ground that¡¯s easily the size of several football fields. Father will be here in an hour, which gives us enough time to get the foundation ready for him. Chad steps forward and a glowing plane spreads across the ground, filling the flagged area with a perfectly level guide for the rest of us to use.


    ¡°All right everyone, you know what to do!¡± Chad calls out too loudly. He¡¯s clearly going to love playing foreman until Father gets here. Got to compensate for his smaller set of equipment somehow. I walk down a ways to the edge of the glowing area and stake out a chunk of ground to work on.


    BUILD(FOUNDATION)


    I line up my vision with the edge that Chad outlined and let the algorithm do the rest. The ground churns and vibrates as thick streams of materials begin flowing from the ground to mix with the minerals from the piles. Unusable materials flow away from the outlined plane and settle on the dirt behind me. I feel the concrete-like foundation fusing together, one thin layer at a time.


    My bots busily continue working, but I don¡¯t need to direct them any further for now. The software can take it from here. As long as I stay in range, I¡¯ve got the next long while free. I head back to the van and grab one of the folding canopies. Evan follows and grabs a few camp chairs. Andrea and Louse help me get the canopy set up, and the others come get settled in to watch our bots work. Everyone but Chad anyway, who stands at the edge of the growing foundation as if he were still essential for the bots to do their jobs. The rest of us sit in the shade while his skin slowly reddens in the morning sun.


    I notice that Louise¡¯s cloud is working a whole lot faster than Evan¡¯s and Andrea¡¯s which are about the same size. The construction routines must be taking advantage of the optimizations she did in some of the base cloud functions. I have those too, so mine is overperforming for its size as well, but the difference isn¡¯t as obvious since my cloud is a lot bigger than any of theirs. If I cared enough to do the math on it, I could make some graphs and figure out who¡¯s getting how much done, but I don¡¯t.


    The smooth surface of the foundation spreads to fill Chad¡¯s level plane as our individual sections merge seamlessly. The work is just reaching the far end of the outlined build zone when I hear a rumble from the west. Father¡¯s ahead of schedule. A puff of dust and smoke in the distance slowly resolves into a dump truck. As it nears, we all hop up from our seats. When the truck pulls up, I can see that the entire bed is full to the top with fine black dust.


    ¡°What? How?¡± I turn to see Jeff staring slack jawed at the payload.


    I¡¯m about to ask him why he¡¯s so shocked but my attention is pulled away as Father opens the passenger door and hops down. He takes a quick look at what we¡¯ve accomplished so far. ¡°Good, good! I see that you children have done some fine work this morning. Is everything ready for me to start on the superstructure?¡±


    ¡°Just one more minute,¡± Chad answers, still with his eyes fixed on the foundation. ¡°I just need to double check everything.¡±


    No you don¡¯t, you pompous ass. The software does all the checking that needs to be done. You just want to make yourself feel important. But Father waits patiently, letting him do whatever he thinks he needs to do. Two minutes later, Chad turns and gives Father a somber nod.


    Father nods back and closes his eyes. The bed of the dump truck empties itself, and a thick cloud swirls into the air above it. The black dust spreads out, disappearing. The mounds of minerals and half the giant metal scrap pile slowly melt away into nothing. Smooth rectangular pillars several feet across sprout up around the foundation¡¯s periphery, growing from ground level and reaching my height in a few minutes. Another few and the pillars nearest to our camp chairs are over twenty feet tall. The ones further away grow quickly as if they¡¯re trying to catch up. Beams for the long oval ceiling dome start growing from the top of each of the outside pillars, reaching out feelers and bonding to the adjacent pieces. I watch in awe as Father¡¯s massive cloud extends a roof over the gargantuan building before our eyes.


    This is it. This is the moment I could kill him. With my brothers and sisters watching, I could take the softball-sized rock resting next to my feet, step up behind him, and bash his head in. I¡¯d have him down before anyone could stop me. Another blow and he¡¯d never recover. I¡¯d be dead soon afterwards, or maybe rotting in a Djibouti jail, but it would be worth it. Maybe with some time and luck I could convince everyone that I¡¯m crazy and get myself into a mental hospital back in the States. Life there wouldn¡¯t be so bad, would it?


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    But I don¡¯t strike. I just stand here. Not forming a clever contraption that would sling the rock into his head. Not dropping it from a hundred feet up. Not taking it in my hand and inflicting the sweet crunch of stone breaking bone.


    The supports for the long, domed roof meet in the center and the weight of the construction settles onto the pillars instead of needing the lifting power of the trillions of nanobots Father was using to build the thing. My window just closed. Why didn¡¯t I kill him when I could?


    ¡°Let¡¯s get started on the desalination pods,¡± Father directs, ignoring the amazed stares of my siblings and oblivious to the turmoil of murderous intent in my heart. ¡°Chad will continue to lay out the plans, so make sure to place the builds according to the layout. The locals will need to be able to access all of them for maintenance. This needs to be a long-term facility. Let¡¯s work from the sea side in. Jeff, you¡¯re running pipes. Marc, you¡¯re running wires. Don¡¯t set up the maintainers from your pools of bots, I¡¯ll take care of those out of my cloud. I don¡¯t want to have to haul this many to our next stop.¡±


    He turns and starts closing in the walls as we all scurry out across the newly built floor. This place is so massive. I feel like an ant walking across it. I feel even smaller for not taking my shot.


    BUILD(DESALINATOR)


    Chads bots have already started etching the floor with tiny lines showing where to put each unit, so it¡¯s simple work placing and building each one. I feel my cloud reaching outside, pulling back materials from the junk pile.


    ¡°So are these your designs we¡¯re building? Your desalinators¡± I ask Evan as our paths bring us close to each other. I need something to take my mind off not killing Father.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a whole team thing where my research gets put through a design review and implementation process with the SynTech engineers. But yeah, I put a lot of work into these pods. The world¡¯s first large-scale nano-powered desalination system.¡±


    ¡°Good job,¡± I tell him. I wonder if it¡¯s stressful for him, knowing that if he screwed things up, a whole lot of people will be out the fresh water they were counting on. I¡¯m sure they tested this stuff though. He¡¯s probably as calm as he looks.


    The work goes quickly. By the time we break for lunch, we¡¯ve got modules lined up filling almost half of the cavernous building. Father¡¯s been putting up walls between the huge pillars as we go, letting plenty of light in but keeping the sun off of us most of the time.


    Ibrahim and Bashir, Jeff and Marc¡¯s guide from yesterday, showed up at some point while we were building. They¡¯ve got a folding table with coolers full of water and a spread of little hand pies just inside the newly formed doors on the side of the building nearest the road. My siblings and I sit on the floor as we devour the whole picnic. The spiced meat and veggies in the crispy fried dough are delicious. I have one too many, eating my feelings.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get back at it,¡± Father declares as he gets up. ¡°I¡¯m going to work on the solar array on the rooftop next, which should let us get lights on and enough power to test a few modules at a time. Does anyone need to switch jobs?¡±


    No one answers, so we all head back to work. Jeff has done a nice job on the pipes. They¡¯re lined up perfectly in neat bundles running along the sides of the building to feed into and draw from each of the desalination pods. I look out to the sea side of the building and see the tubes neatly vanishing into the exterior wall. The wires are less neat, but they look like they¡¯re all connected right so far. So good job to Marc, too.


    BUILD(DESALINATOR)


    I glance around as my current pod builds. Andrea is weaving her hands at a wall. Geometric patterns etch themselves into the smooth surface. Colors fill in the lines she draws, leaving beautiful artwork where the drab, gray wall had been.


    BUILD(DESALINATOR)


    The sound of flowing water comes and goes as Father and Chad spot-check the plumbing and power on pods around the facility. No problems so far.


    BUILD(DESALINATOR)


    Out the front doors, a small motorcade pulls up. A group of maybe twenty men and women stream into the building and look around at the work we¡¯ve done. The men are dressed in suits, the women in more traditional local clothing. Their expressions range from stonefaced to amazed. Father pauses his building to say a few words to them in a language I don¡¯t understand, which gets him some smiles. The photographer with them takes a bunch of pictures of them and Father while my sibs and I work in the background. Must be the local press and politicians or something. They take off, and Father goes back to creating lights hanging down from the ceiling and wiring them to the battery modules that he attaches at regular intervals up and down each of the pillars.


    It¡¯s not hard work, but I¡¯m still tired by the time the last of the walls start to close up. The dry air, the heat, and being up on my feet and needing to focus all the time drain me. For a couple of moments, the interior is nearly pitch black. Only a small patch of illumination comes in from the distant front doors.


    ¡°Let there be light!¡± Father announces grandiosely as he connects up the battery arrays to the solar panels. The building springs back to a near-noon brightness, the warm yellow of the sun fully replaced by the cool white of Father¡¯s creations.


    I finish up my last pod and head outside to see the completed building. The exterior walls are lined with more battery modules, enough to store the power needs of a good-sized city for a week. Father moves fast when he¡¯s loaded up like this. It would have taken me a month to do a fraction of that much construction. Between each bank of batteries, more of Andrea¡¯s geometric murals decorate the enormous building. From the outside, it looks more like a massive art museum than an industrial water processing plant.


    The dump truck reloads itself as Father waves a weary hand toward it. Maybe a quarter of the load he started with is missing. He must have cannibalized a bunch of them for the batteries and left a lot more to do maintenance. I do a little mental calculation. This place should be able to run itself for years without any human intervention, decades easily with even the most minor upkeep efforts.


    I load my backpack up, feeling inconsequential in comparison despite the heavy drag on my shoulders. My sibs emerge one by one as they finish their last pods. Jeff brings up the rear after connecting the last modules to the plumbing. He glances at the loaded dump truck again, muttering something under his breath that I can¡¯t make out.


    The sun hangs low in the sky, almost kissing the horizon. I hadn¡¯t noticed that it was so late. No wonder I¡¯m feeling tired, that was a twelve-hour workday.


    ¡°Great work today, everyone,¡± Father congratulates us. ¡°Everything is right on schedule. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll set up the solar field and run a full production test. With any luck, we¡¯ll be heading to Somalia Friday morning.¡±

 Thu 09/15 11:07:22 EAT and Sun 09/18 16:27:53 EAT

    Thu 09/15 11:07:22 EAT


    BUILD(SOLAR)


    Building solar panels is so boring.


    BUILD(SOLAR)


    Super boring.


    BUILD(SOLAR)


    Just one panel after another. No shade, since I need to keep moving around to get line of sight on each new panel. Nothing interesting going on. Forty-seven more to go in my section before I get to where Jeff¡¯s panels start. Forty-five. I should have worn a hat. I put sunblock on this morning, but I¡¯m sure my neck is burned. Forty more. I free up a few bots from the construction routine, enough to form an eye to look at myself. Is my face getting red? Thirty now. If I get burned I¡¯m going to be pissed. Twenty. Andrea finishes one row and starts another. Ten more. Five. One.


    Done.


    I look at the neat rows and can¡¯t see where my section ends and Jeff¡¯s begins. Perfect. It¡¯s satisfying to get a job this big done, even if the grunt work sucks.


    Jeff is done too and trying to glide back to the road, but the ground is too rough and he keeps taking stumbling steps. He looks like he¡¯s about to collapse. I walk over to give him a hand, but he waves me off. I walk next to him, ready to reach out if he falls. The rest of the sibs look tired too, except Andrea. She¡¯s as bright and cheerful as ever. All that yoga and dance, this must seem like nothing to her. Chad¡¯s weight training gives him muscles, but no stamina. He¡¯s as dogged out as the rest of us.


    Father walks out into the middle of the field, distributing a generous load of maintainer bots for all the panels. Another big chunk of his massive stash of bots disappear as he rotates in place, directing his gaze across the rocky plain. A truck drives by, kicking up dust everywhere, but not a speck of it settles onto any of the solar collectors. Fascinating. I should look at the code for those maintenance algorithms some time.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading over to build the primary pipe and transmission lines,¡± Father announces as he comes back toward us. ¡°Chad has the procedures to start the full production test here. Please assist him as needed. I want to have this all wrapped up by the end of the day.¡±


    He and one of the guides¡ªAhmed, I think?¡ªclimb into the dump truck without waiting for a reply. They roll slowly down the road toward the city. As they move, a massive six-foot pipe begins to materialize from nothing alongside the road. Foot by foot it grows as it follows them, connecting the desalination plant to wherever they¡¯re driving. We all watch them until they¡¯re lost in the dust.


    Ibrahim, Kofi, and Bashir start unloading lunch from the back of the van, another round of the little fried meat and veggie pies. They¡¯re still good the second day in a row. Maybe we can get food like this in the cafeteria, now that my family knows it exists.


    Getting the production test ready takes all afternoon. Check and double-check everything. Verify each pod works. Make sure there are no leaks. We have to rewire a few solar panels because Marc laid down the wrong gauge of wire in one section, but other than that it goes pretty smoothly. It¡¯s almost sundown now, just waiting for the go-ahead from Father to kick off the whole operation.


    Chad talks into the radio earbud he¡¯s been using all afternoon to report our progress. ¡°Are you ready, Father?¡±


    Most of my sibs are already wearing their earpieces, but I¡¯ve been procrastinating. I get enough Marc chatter without him having a direct line to my ear. But I do want to know how this test goes, so I pop mine in.


    ¡°Nearly there,¡± Father¡¯s voice says. ¡°Just another minute or two.¡±


    We all wait impatiently. It¡¯s a very long two minutes. Then a longer three more.


    ¡°Ready,¡± Father finally says. ¡°Fire it up.¡±


    Chad reaches out to the control panel and pushes the main power lever forward. The pipes running across the floors and along the walls gurgle and moan as they fill and merge and push water into the massive main pipe. We all look anxiously at the large gauges installed on the wall. The needles move up through the white range, then into the green section where they stop just before they hit the yellow zone.


    ¡°We got it,¡± Chad announces. ¡°Thirty-eight thousand gallons per minute, throughput at eighty percent of maximum.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Father¡¯s voice says. ¡°Right where it should be. Wait a bit and let me see what it looks like when it arrives on my end.¡±


    I do some math in my head. That¡¯s just over a hundred and ten gallons a day for everyone in the city. Plenty for everyone. Plenty for farming, too. Not bad for a couple of days'' work.


    I take a seat on the cement floor. Evan and Louise follow suit. Andrea starts making little glowing cartoon scenes float around in the air to entertain Marc, who doesn¡¯t do well with boredom. Jeff lays out flat. I think he might be going to sleep. Chad stands by the control panel, acting as if he knows what to do if anything goes wrong.


    After twenty minutes, Father¡¯s voice crackles at us again.


    ¡°This is looking excellent,¡± he says. ¡°Not a drop lost between here and there. Have the guides bring you back to town. Let¡¯s eat.¡±


    We load up into the big van and head back to the city. Father¡¯s pipe stretches along the side of the road most of the way there. It ends abruptly at a rocky, barren plain with the city just in sight. There¡¯s just enough daylight left to see the gushing flow spewing into the world¡¯s biggest puddle.


    ¡°Why doesn¡¯t it go all the way to the city?¡± Marc asks. I swear the kid doesn¡¯t remember a thing from the briefings.


    Chad switches into obnoxious mentor mode. I think he¡¯s trying to act like Father, but he never pulls it off. ¡°The local water authority needs to connect up to the open pipe we¡¯re leaving,¡± he explains in that condescending voice that I hate so much. ¡°They have to put in some of the work. Otherwise they won¡¯t appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the reason, Chad,¡± I retort. I know this might pick a fight, but Marc has enough trouble keeping up without being misinformed. ¡°It has nothing to do with appreciation for our work. Father wants to force them to kickstart the infrastructure effort to connect to the pipe and the power lines. If they have to set up their own utilities to get the benefit from the water spilling onto the ground within sight of town, they¡¯ll end up with the organization and equipment they need to update the water and power systems for the whole city.¡±


    Chad, in the seat ahead of me, probably thinks I don¡¯t see the look of rage twisting his face. He doesn¡¯t realize that I¡¯ve taken up Louise¡¯s habit of keeping watch in every direction with my six floating bot eyes. Maybe I should have just let him have this one, but I feel vindicated as Marc thanks me effusively for an answer that actually makes sense. Then he goes on about how glad he is that I joined the family. I don¡¯t mind the praise, but I wish he¡¯d shut up. Chad¡¯s face gets redder with anger as he goes on.


    Fortunately, Marc gets distracted by the lights of the city¡¯s skyline. It¡¯s still so weird that something as normal as that is still new to these guys. It¡¯s not even a very big city. Chad gets himself under control by the time we get back to the hotel and only gives me a dirty look as we pile out of the van. I shrug it off. I stopped caring about what Chad thinks a long time ago.


    Father is waiting for us in the lobby. We trudge wearily into the dining room for another fantastic meal. Today, I¡¯m glad they have chairs. My body is sore and I¡¯m grateful for the backrest. Chad seems to be tolerating the local food better today. At least he¡¯s not picking at it with that disgusted look on his face this time.


    ¡°Tomorrow morning, we¡¯ll head to Somalia for the next leg of our trip,¡± Father announces once the initial feeding frenzy subsides. ¡°Some reminders: we¡¯re going to have significant differences from what we¡¯ve been doing here in Djibouti. We¡¯ll be sticking to rural areas, so nothing as large-scale as the project here. The Somalis have a water problem, but they also have a very significant food problem. We¡¯re going to create a dramatic increase in their available arable land with a series of small desalination plants along the coast that will pipe water to inland deserts. We¡¯ll be on the move a lot more, and we¡¯ll be building our own housing each night.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    We all mumble acknowledgements, except for Andrea who just nods. It¡¯s all stuff from the briefings, but obviously some of us need the reminders. Between the food and the fatigue, Father seems to be the only one of us able to put more than a couple of words together. Even Marc¡¯s chatty mouth is quiet.


    ¡°The area is also substantially more dangerous than here in Djibouti. In addition to rogue groups, there are significant disagreements between the Somali government which regards the area as a part of its holdings and the de facto Somaliland leadership. I have negotiated agreements with all parties involved for us to do our work here, but you must all remember our rule about discussing politics. Marc, what is that rule?¡±


    ¡°To not to,¡± he says with his mouth half-full of something green.


    ¡°Correct. Excellent. Now, to deal with the foreseeable potential threats, those rogue groups that I mentioned, we¡¯ll designate sentries each day,¡± Father continues. ¡°Whoever is assigned will run the sentry function all day, keeping watch for armed groups or other trouble. The worst of the problems with violence are in the eastern part of the country, which we will avoid, but we¡¯re not taking any chances. Please remember to keep your earpieces in and turned on at all times starting tomorrow morning. We¡¯ll be in constant contact for all of next week.¡±


    Father looks around at all of us, and then lets his gaze settle on Marc. He gives him a paternal smile. ¡±Marc,¡± he says gently, ¡°I need you to exercise some self control so that we can remain a loving family.¡±


    I laugh. So do most of the others. I¡¯m not the praying type, but I implore whatever gods may exist that Marc is capable of that. Mom, you¡¯re an angel or something now, right? Or whatever good people end up as? Maybe you can help with that.


    ¡°If the sentry calls out a warning, what do you all do?¡± Father quizzes, breaking my reverie.


    ¡°Get to the shelter or shield up.¡± Chad and Louise answer in unison.


    ¡°Good. And you stay sheltered or shielded until I call the all-clear. Chad will take sentry duty tomorrow. Any questions?¡±


    ¡°Um, yeah.¡± Marc says. ¡°If this place is so dangerous, why are we doing our first mission here?¡±


    Father regards him silently for a moment before answering. ¡°A very good question, though rather late for you to finally be considering it. The reasons are many, but among them are these: first, this is one of the areas of the world most in need of our services. Second, as we demonstrate the value of our assistance here, we can induce governments and corporations in more affluent areas of the world to model our efforts. Third, we will be operating with essentially no restrictions and no support from anyone. Which means that our outcomes are entirely dependent on our own efforts. I want each of you to see firsthand that you are capable of saving the world, even in the face of adverse circumstances, so that you will have no doubts of your capacity to continue the Institute¡¯s efforts in the decades to come.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure how much of that Marc actually digests, but it seems to satisfy him.


    ¡°Any other questions?¡± Father looks around the table.


    ¡°Will our same guides be coming with us?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°Ah, a more immediate concern. Indeed they will. Ibrahim, Ahmed, Kofi, and Bashir will be joining us for the whole trip. They¡¯ll handle navigating local authorities as well as food, driving, and other logistics for us.¡±


    That¡¯s fine by me. They¡¯ve been helpful so far, and they all seem like good guys.


    ¡°If there is nothing else, let¡¯s all turn in after dinner.¡±


    No one puts up any arguments. After I finish my banana fritter dessert, I head up to bed. I don¡¯t even brush my teeth, I¡¯m that tired. I just let the pillowy mattress cradle me as my mind drifts away.


    Sun 09/18 16:27:53 EAT


    I adjust the broad hat that Ibrahim gave me to shield me from the scorching sun. It¡¯s still abysmally hot out here, but at least with this I¡¯m not getting burned. I try to just focus on laying pipe through the desert, but the job is too easy. It gives me too much time to think. It¡¯s letting my mind take me to places that I don¡¯t want to go.


    The first three days in Somalia have made the Djibouti solar field installation feel like a day at the beach. Evan and I got put on pipe duty. The first hour or so was fun. I sat in the bed of one of the pickups while Ibrahim drove cross-country away from the ocean. I kept my eyes aimed backwards as we bumped across the rocky landscape. The ground behind us boiled and transformed into the thick pipeline that would carry fresh water into the desert. Evan was on sentry duty, sitting in the cab and making sure we didn¡¯t get ambushed.


    Once the novelty wore off, it was pure grind. It doesn¡¯t take many twiggy shrubs and rocks before they all look the same. When Evan and I switched roles, sentry duty wasn¡¯t any better. We¡¯re in the absolute middle of nowhere, so there¡¯s not much to watch for. The sentry overlay makes anything made of metal show up glowing red, even when it¡¯s behind other objects, but the only time that happened was when we came within sight of a town, where we¡¯d see all their knives, tools, and machinery light up. I saw a few small arms, pistols and rifles, but nothing moving like someone was carrying it, and nothing military. Nothing worth reporting over the everpresent link to my family in my ear.


    The upside of the earpiece is that we¡¯ve had a decently engaging conversation going on the whole time while we¡¯ve been working. My sibs are pretty funny when you get them out into the real world. Marc has actually been more of a source of enjoyment than annoyance. He tells these long, winding, but surprisingly entertaining stories that do a good job of passing the hours. We¡¯ve developed so many inside jokes that I couldn¡¯t count them. Well, I could, I¡¯d just just have to scan back through my logs.


    It feels good to be a part of all of this. Part of this vision to save the world. Part of this family.


    Dammit.


    I don¡¯t want to be a cog in this murdering bastard''s plans. I want to kill him.


    He killed Mom.


    But we¡¯re doing so much good. He¡¯s doing so much good. I¡¯ve never seen anyone work as hard as he does. That small mountain of nanobots he has must take monumental concentration to wield, but he¡¯s the first person up in the mornings and the last one down when we finish our days. Never complaining, never showing fatigue. Just smiling, encouraging, and being the kind of dad that I always wished I had growing up.


    Half a million people in Djibouti have practically unlimited clean water and power available to them now. I don¡¯t know how many people here in Somalia we¡¯ve helped so far, but by the time we¡¯re through, we¡¯ll have tripled the amount of usable farmland in the country. Maybe Father¡¯s right. With abundant food, water, and power available, maybe the people here and everywhere else will ease off on killing each other. It seems like a good theory anyway.


    And this is just the start of it. He¡¯s been talking about other trips for next year. Decontaminating the ground water in Afghanistan, filtering the Mekong river in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos, spreading clean water all over Southeast Asia. Fending off the otherwise inevitable famine that the river¡¯s pollution will cause sooner or later. He¡¯s even talking about converting the great Pacific garbage patch into a bunch of floating resort islands.


    And this trip is just the tip of the iceberg. The Butler Institute is going to solve resource scarcity with nanomining, create new drugs with nanochemistry that will go beyond the wildest dreams of conventional medicine, build self-maintaining roads to everywhere with solar-powered vehicles that never emit a particle of pollution. A golden age for all of humanity. Climate change will be reversed as forests and grasslands spring up where deserts now dominate. And for those who find the perfected earth too boring, the nanobots will lead us into space with colonies on the moon and Mars.


    How can I kill him? How can I punish the world for a crime against just Mom and me?


    But how can I not?


    So now I¡¯m bumping along in the back of a pickup with too little to keep my mind off of what I don¡¯t want to consider. Why can¡¯t my mind just shut up? Why am I wrestling with a murder that I¡¯m not even sure I can even commit?


    Maybe I was wrong anyway. Maybe he just went to Denver to talk to her, and she just happened to get killed in a traffic accident that same day. Maybe he wasn¡¯t even in Denver to see her. There¡¯s other business he could have had there. I could have misunderstood his notes. He never admitted that he killed her.


    Right?


    No.


    Dammit.


    Does it even matter?


    Of course it does.


    I hate this. I hate him.


    He¡¯s my father, and not just by blood now.


    I might love him.


    I¡¯ll let him live.


    No.


    He needs to die.


    No.


    ¡°Hey, did you guys hear the one about the programmer that couldn¡¯t leave the shower?¡± Father¡¯s voice comes in through the earpiece.


    A collective groan from my siblings.


    ¡°The instructions on the shampoo said lather, rinse, and repeat,¡± he says. I can almost see his crooked smile. ¡°So he got stuck in an infinite loop.¡±


    A bigger groan. A couple of chuckles.


    How can I kill a dad like that?


    I could let him live.


    Maybe one day, I can even learn to forgive.

 Mon 09/19 05:59:17 EAT and Mon 09/19 10:49:38 EAT

    Mon 09/19 05:59:17 EAT


    The morning sun comes shining in through the open door. I enjoy a few lazy moments in my sleeping bag before I get up. On the other side of the spacious shelter, Louise and Andrea are covering their heads with pillows, doing their best to pretend that dawn isn¡¯t telling us that it¡¯s time to get to work. I get my shoes on and stumble outside, where the guides are already up and loading the van.


    ¡°Noah!¡± Father says as he sees me. ¡°Good, you¡¯re up. You¡¯ll be on sentry duty today, so go ahead and get that switched on before we leave. The water facility we¡¯re doing today is bigger than the last few, so we¡¯ll all stay together until we have that done. We may have time to lay the pipe for it this afternoon, or possibly tomorrow depending on how the construction goes.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing, Father.¡±


    ¡°What can I get you for breakfast?¡± he asks with his usual morning energy. ¡°We¡¯ve got honey flatbread or some leftover sambusas.¡±


    ¡°Leftovers, please,¡± I reply, stretching my arms wide to work out a kink in my back.


    He smiles as he pulls the box of meat pastries from the fridge in the back of one of the trucks, stares at it for a few moments, then hands it to me piping hot. I let myself be drawn in by his grin. Has something changed between us?


    I could let him live.


    SENTRY-MODE


    My cloud disperses out and away, way past where the standard distribution would put them. I wander around the camp with my sambusa in hand, nibbling at it and feeling all the metal anywhere near us. There¡¯s plenty around with the machinery we built last night and the trucks. I walk the camp perimeter and look out, not sensing anything dangerous anywhere.


    I lick the grease off my fingers as I finish the last bite. I¡¯m glad the guides handle getting us fresh meals every night. I don¡¯t think any of us know how to cook under the best of conditions, and out here we¡¯d end up eating as much sand as food if we tried to make dinner ourselves.


    ¡°Earpieces on, everyone. Roll call!¡± Father calls.


    I tap the earpiece. Voices start sounding in my ear.


    ¡°Chad is on.¡±


    ¡°Louise is here.¡±


    ¡°So is Noah,¡± I chime in.


    ¡°Evan too.¡±


    A cheerful whistle comes in from Andrea.


    ¡°Jeff is on.¡±


    ¡°Hey guys, Marc is on. Can we play twenty questions?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps later, Marc,¡± Father says patiently. ¡°Load up, please. All of you are in the van this morning.¡±


    We pile in and drive away from the camp, leaving last night¡¯s shelter with its solar panel array and flywheel power storage. Any of the surrounding villages can run a wire here to get free power for as long as the sun keeps shining. Ahmed¡¯s truck veers off behind us to make a stop at the first one, where he¡¯ll tell them about the opportunity and leave them with supplies and instructions.


    As today¡¯s sentry, I get shotgun in the van. It¡¯s over an hour to today¡¯s build site, so most of my sibs close their eyes and sack out. I haven¡¯t felt any trouble yet, but I squirm around in my seat every few minutes to make sure I¡¯m watching for dangers from every direction. It¡¯s weird not having my regular floating eyes to see all around me, since the sentry routine commandeers my whole cloud. I guess it¡¯s worth it to be able to detect danger for miles all around. Ahead of us, Father¡¯s pickup leads the way, the bed loaded with the remnants of his giant load of bots. His stockpile is down to a fraction of what he started with. He¡¯ll probably put up the building then go rebuild his cloud while we take care of the desalination pods and the power array.


    The twisted desert shrubs flit by as the miles pass.


    I feel a prodding from behind me and turn to see what the sensors have picked up. Behind us there¡¯s metal coming down the road that doesn¡¯t look like a regular car. It¡¯s a truck, a big one. Looks like something military, the kind that would haul soldiers around. I focus the bots in closer, and see what look like guns, lined up in regular intervals in the back of the truck. From their positioning and movements, those guns are being held at the ready. Another truck comes in range, pulling up behind the first one.


    ¡°Father,¡± I say. ¡°Armed group behind us, coming in fast! At least two trucks. Twenty-eight guns I can see so far.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Noah,¡± comes the response in my ear. ¡°Bashir, Ibrahim, please pull over. We¡¯ll take our stand here. This seems coordinated enough that we don¡¯t want to drive into an ambush. Is everyone awake and ready?¡±


    A chorus of groggy affirmatives come from the back of the van as my siblings wake up fast. The van pulls to the side of the road behind the pickup, and we pile out. Marc starts jabbering instructions for emergencies to himself, getting most of them wrong. Louise tries to help him but that only makes things louder as Chad decides he needs to be in charge right now and starts shouting at Marc to shut up.


    ¡°Everyone stay calm,¡± Father commands, putting up one hand. My siblings instantly go silent. ¡°Let me get a look. This may not be a problem, so stay calm.¡±


    The pile of bots disappears from the truck bed as Father closes his eyes. I don¡¯t think any of us even breathe.


    ¡°No. This is, in fact, a problem. A significant one,¡± he says after a moment. His forehead wrinkles in a worried frown. ¡°Those aren¡¯t from the Somali government army or the Somaliland armed forces. None of the other factions should be here. Shield up!¡±


    SHIELD


    Endless days of training kick in and I¡¯m crouched down on the hard-baked sand with my shield building before I can think twice. It takes longer than normal for me to get encased, since parts of my cloud are traveling back from the far edge where they¡¯d been scouting. Andrea is taking longer than she did in practice too, but I see her get covered just before my shield closes all the way. The last thing I see before the outside world disappears is the look on Father¡¯s face. His eyes have a hard coldness to them, his mouth pulled in a twisted frown. I know that look. I¡¯ve seen it in the mirror.


    ¡°Safe!¡± a chorus of voices say in my ear.


    ¡°Safe!¡± I call out.


    ¡°Andrea!¡± Father¡¯s voice rings sharply. She hums a note in response. ¡°Good,¡± he says. ¡°Remember to stay sheltered until I call the all clear.¡± I hear the cold fury in his voice. It¡¯s unnerving how much I understand that exact feeling.


    Several minutes pass, each of which feels like hours inside the sensory deprivation chamber of the shield. I wonder if it¡¯s better or worse that I can still see the clock slowly ticking away in the overlay. At least I know time hasn¡¯t stopped completely.


    Muffled sounds come from the outside. Someone is shouting something angry that I can¡¯t understand. Then screams of horror, quickly followed by the muffled staccato bursts of gunshots. I feel stings on my bot skin, at least a couple of bullets hit my shield.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Silence.


    Then waiting.


    ¡°Father?¡± I hear Marc¡¯s voice ask tentatively in my earpiece.


    ¡°Not now, Marc!¡± Father¡¯s voice thunders. He can be scary when he wants to be. ¡°Stay in the shields!¡±


    Waiting.


    The clock says it was less than twenty minutes. It lies. It was forever.


    Finally, Father calls the all clear. I let the shell of my shield melt away. Instead of the blast of desert heat I expect, a cold breeze hits my face as I get up. Remembering that I¡¯m on sentry duty, I get back on watch. There could be more of them.


    SENTRY-MODE


    My bots spread out. I look at where I last felt the trucks that had followed us. There¡¯s no sign of them. As my bot senses extend, I don¡¯t pick them up anywhere. Whoever was in them is gone too. The rage that had contorted Father¡¯s face is gone now, replaced by a reassuring calm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my children,¡± Father proclaims. ¡°Everything is safe now. Those men will have a long walk back to the nearest town to think about changing careers.¡±


    He must have stripped them of everything metal they had, because I can¡¯t sense them at all now. Not a belt buckle, not a boot eyelet. The pickup bed is overflowing now with fine black dust. I forgot how fast bots can grow when they have access to refined metals like guns and trucks.


    Marc seems to be over his panic, but Andrea looks shaken. She always hated the training drills with the shields. I wonder how much of what¡¯s got her freaked out is from the attack itself, and how much is the trauma of being trapped in the egg for so long. We all seem to have weird side effects from the implants, I wonder if one of hers is claustrophobia. Or maybe she came by that naturally. Hard to tell what¡¯s innate in our brains and what¡¯s twisted by using the implants.


    ¡°Enough excitement for the morning,¡± Father declares. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work. There are hungry and thirsty people counting on us.¡±


    Thanks for saving us, Father. I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t kill you yet. Maybe we can call it even now between you and me.


    Maybe.


    Mon 09/19 10:49:38 EAT


    Evan builds the last desalination pod in the row and gives Marc a nod to run the wires to it. This plant isn¡¯t nearly as huge as the one we did in Djibouti, but it¡¯s still big enough to supply both the desert reclamation project and the town of Berbera a few miles down the coast. I glance out through the door where Father is handling the solar panels with his freshly enlarged cloud. No new dangers anywhere in my sentry range yet, so I just lean against the wall and watch everyone work.


    Marc tells a long, winding story about when the dorms were first built and my classmates all moved in there and left their nannies. Like a lot of his stories, it doesn¡¯t seem to have a point at all, but it passes the time. He¡¯s a surprisingly good storyteller. I almost feel like I was there. We listen and work through lunchtime and finish by the early afternoon.


    ¡°Anyone want to eat indoors today?¡± Father asks.


    Everyone cheers at the proposition, so we pile into the vehicles and head to Berbera. The town doesn¡¯t have anything I¡¯d call a tourist draw, but the restaurant that Ibrahim and Bashir take us to has full-sized tables and knows how to cater to Americans. Kofi and Ahmed are already there and have food waiting for us when we arrive. We sit at a couple of adjoining tables and enjoy some fresh fish and a spicy rice dish.


    Sentry duty is trickier here with all the metal around. It would be almost a sensory overload, but all the practice I¡¯ve put in running extra eyes is paying off. I¡¯m pretty sure I can catch guns or anything else dangerous that comes close well before they¡¯re a problem. We¡¯re almost done with our meal when a tall, thin man approaches our group. The dark skin of his bald head glistens with perspiration from the day¡¯s heat, and he¡¯s wearing a western-style suit and tie that are clean but look like they¡¯ve seen better days. He isn¡¯t carrying any weapons, so I give Father a nod as he comes near, letting him know the man isn¡¯t a threat. Father returns an almost imperceptible inclination of his head.


    ¡°Are you Mr. Tom Butler?¡± the tall man asks in thickly accented English.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me,¡± Father replies, his voice wary.


    The man¡¯s face breaks out into a wide grin. ¡°My name is Almis Gabyow. I know what you are doing here, and I am so happy.¡± He speaks slowly, carefully enunciating each word. ¡°We have so little water, and your work is so very much appreciated. There are not many good men like you in the world. I am a member of this city¡¯s council. From my people, I say to you, thank you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m very glad we could help, Mr. Gabyow,¡± Father answers, relaxing. ¡°It is our goal to preserve life, end suffering, and elevate humanity in whatever way we are able. The work we¡¯ve done here is just the beginning. My children will be doing projects like this all over the world, until there is no corner of the planet where people do not have enough.¡±


    The way he says it strikes me. It¡¯s not just a credo or a sales pitch when it comes out of his mouth. He really believes it.


    ¡°Thank you. You are a good, good man,¡± Mr. Gabyow says. Addressing the rest of us, he adds. ¡°And thank you to your children too. If you follow your father, you will do well.¡±


    He bows, shakes Father¡¯s hand, and leaves. A few days ago, I would have dismissed something like this without a thought, but now I¡¯m not so sure. Maybe Father really is as good as everyone says. Maybe I¡¯m wrong.


    No. He killed her.


    ¡°Wow, that was excellent,¡± Marc remarks.


    My siblings all murmur agreement, except Andrea of course. She doesn¡¯t even add her usual affirmative hum. I glance over at her. That shaken look from the attack this morning still lingers in her eyes. I¡¯ll talk with her later. I mean, I¡¯ll talk. She¡¯ll make her little light pictures or music or whatever. Or maybe she¡¯ll just use that incredibly expressive face. But she clearly has something that she needs to work out, and for some reason she¡¯s not bringing it up with the whole group around.


    After lunch we split up. Evan and I are back on pipe duty with Ibrahim. We start the pipe a mile or so outside of the town, in a barren chunk of ground that looks like it won¡¯t mind flooding until the locals connect up the smaller pipes and properly irrigate the place. The quick trip we took toward town is a slow crawl back as we bump across the rocky desert, leaving the thick tube in our wake. Ibrahim drives parallel to the road, just within sight of the cracked asphalt. Even though the truck is made for this kind of thing, the ride is rough. Evan lays the pipe, I keep watch. Through the earpiece, Marc is talking about the time when Chad got himself, Marc, and four of the little sibs lost on a hiking trip in Zion National Park when he was nine. No surprise there, apparently Chad was always a bossy little prick who didn¡¯t know what he was doing. But I haven¡¯t heard this one before, so it serves to fill the hours.


    By the time the story ends, the rest of the group is at camp, building tonight¡¯s shelter and solar field. I didn¡¯t like the earpiece at first, but now I don¡¯t mind. It¡¯s nice to keep up the conversation with everyone even while Evan and I are out here in the boonies.


    The bumpy ride finally gets us back to the desalination plant. Evan hooks up the pipe to one of the plant¡¯s two outputs. I open the window and boost myself up to sit on the door. Ibrahim shakes his head, but Evan and I have done this maneuver enough times by now that he doesn¡¯t bother to tell us not to anymore.


    ¡°Want to switch off?¡± I offer, raising my voice to compete with the wind. ¡°Ride in the cab for a while?¡±


    ¡°Naw, I¡¯m good,¡± he calls back. ¡°I¡¯m in the zone back here.¡±


    ¡°I get it,¡± I tell him, and slip back inside the window. I click the earpiece back on just in time to hear the tail end of another geeky dad joke from Father. A new pipe forms on the plant¡¯s second output, and follows us as Ibrahim turns the truck around. We head south, slowing as we cross the road so Evan has time to build under it, and then rumble out into the desolate, rocky desert.


    A couple of hours later, we¡¯re done laying the pipe. Ibrahim stops the truck and Evan jumps out of the bed. I scooch over to make room for him in the cab. We get back on the road just before sundown. Ibrahim drives while we listen to Marc telling another one, this time about Louise and Andrea each deciding they wanted to find a boy to kiss at Disneyland a couple of years ago. It¡¯s fully dark out when the story ends with their plans almost working until it turned out that they both decided on the same guy. The bright lights of the shelter shine like a beacon up ahead. Why didn¡¯t I like Marc before? I can¡¯t even remember.


    The rest of the group is already eating when we arrive, so Evan and I grab our food and dig in. Even a little cold, it¡¯s still delicious, better than anything the cafeteria ever serves. Father sits on the tailgate of one of the pickups, smiling as he looks around at my brothers and sisters. Our eyes meet momentarily.


    I keep seeing the tall man from lunch in my mind. Hearing his words again and again. He¡¯s wrong about Father being a good man, but Father does do good things.


    Good enough to balance out killing Mom?


    No. Never.


    But good enough that I can let him live?


    I¡¯m starting to think so.


    ¡°Is everything all right, Noah?¡± Father asks warmly.


    ¡°Yeah, Father,¡± I answer, giving him a sincere smile for the first time in a long time. ¡°Everything is good.

 Wed 09/21 08:19:07 EAT and Thu 09/22 06:54:27 EAT

    Wed 09/21 08:19:07 EAT


    ¡°It seems the events of yesterday morning may have instigated something of a kerfuffle. I¡¯ve received an advisory that more armed insurgents have been spotted in the area where we were planning to work today. The risk of violence is higher than I¡¯m comfortable taking you into,¡± Father says as we finish breakfast and begin loading the trucks. ¡°So we¡¯re going to skip the last of our planned desalination plants for Somalia and begin our work in Ethiopia early.¡±


    Me and the rest of the small circle of siblings gathered around him take the news without complaint and get back to work breaking camp. I stow my pack and sleeping bag in the pickup bed and do a quick double-check of the shelter to make sure we didn¡¯t leave anything. I give the floor a quick sweep with my bots, leaving it clean for whoever comes along next. I feel good today. Lighter. The tumultuous swirl of hate and love for Father is quiet for the first time since I found out he killed Mom. I¡¯m not over it, but maybe I could get used to this. No more need to plot and scheme and look for openings and figure out how not to get caught.


    We pile into the van. Bashir is driving today. He backtracks to Berbera then heads south. A faded sign says ¡°Road Number 1¡± in English and some other script I can¡¯t read. I wonder if it¡¯s the first modern road they ever built here. It isn¡¯t anything fancy¡ªthe aging asphalt has plenty of bumps¡ªbut it¡¯s smoother than the dirt roads and cross country runs I¡¯ve been dealing with all week. Even with the potholes, the hum of the tires on the road is soothing. I lean my head against the window and let it lull me.


    I feel sleep coming. I don¡¯t fight it.


    My clock skips forward and I taste the subtle change in the flavor of my own mouth that tells me that I napped. Awake again, I notice the van is moving at a crawl. I lift up my head and look out the front windshield to see what¡¯s going on. The road ahead is blocked by camels, a good sized herd. Or is it a caravan of camels? I should know the name for a group of them, but I can¡¯t remember it. Chad, up in the front seat on sentry duty, is looking at them with his usual suspicious glare. There¡¯s nothing to worry about. He would have woken us all up a while ago if the camels had been packing any weapons. We get past them and the road hums again, lulling me into a place halfway between here and sleep.


    My mind clock jumps another hour. We slow down again to pass a donkey cart. I glance back past through the dusty rear windshield. Father is still behind us in one of the pickups, riding with Ahmed. I look ahead and can¡¯t see Kofi and Ibrahim¡¯s trucks anymore. I think someone said they were going ahead of us to the border station. When we finally catch up to them, we get the VIP treatment. Big smiles and a wave right through into Ethiopia. They must have greased a few palms.


    I rest my head against the window again. Not quite sleeping, just mellow. This drive day has been a nice break. It feels like we¡¯ve been going non-stop for so long, even though it¡¯s barely been more than a week. Everyone in the van is quiet, without even the standard jabber from Marc¡¯s motormouth. I glance at him with one of my eyes. He¡¯s out cold. If he were awake, I¡¯d be tempted to ask for another story.


    We stop in a town called Jijiga for a late lunch. It¡¯s a more modern place than anything we¡¯ve seen since Djibouti City. And green. Surprisingly green. It has a squared-off grid of streets like Denver does. I feel a twinge of homesickness. Not for the campus, but for my old home. For Mom.


    We eat at a restaurant inside a hotel. They do meats and sauces on top of spongy flatbread like we¡¯ve gotten used to, but the Ethiopian variation of the bread is bigger than the Somali version, like the size of a big pizza for just one piece of it. The seasonings they use are different too, but just as good. The roasted goat is delicious.


    Back on the road, belly full, the clock skips ahead again. The bumps of a dirt road beneath us rouses me. It¡¯s just after sundown when we stop for the night. There are some lights off in the distance, the kerosene lanterns they use in the villages around here.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to the shelter tonight. You children go ahead and stretch your legs,¡± Father calls out as we pile out of the van¡¯s side door. ¡°And you¡¯re finally free from the terrible voice of Father in your ears all day. This region is fairly safe, so you don¡¯t need to keep your earpieces on all the time.¡±


    A patch of ground illuminated by the truck¡¯s lights churns and flattens. Walls climb from the ground, and the roof grows up out from them. My legs are feeling normal again by the time the new shelter is done. Father glances over to the side of the building, and a battery module grows from the wall at ground level. He must have charged it from his bots¡¯ batteries, because the lights pop on inside, cool and bright. A moment later, the exterior lights come on.


    This part is automatic by now. We unload our gear from the trucks and lay it out in the shelter. In a few minutes, the camp is all set up. Ibrahim pulls up in the last truck and brings out our dinner. He must have found a place not too far from here because the food is still piping hot. We sit on tailgates or on the front step of the shelter and dig in. Kofi passes around some bug repellant as we finish up, which is good because the bugs here get scary big.


    Both of my sisters look over at me.


    ¡°Hey Noah, want to take a little walk?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°Can we, Father?¡± I ask. I feel like when I was a kid and had to ask Mom for permission to play outside.


    ¡°You may,¡± he replies, smiling at us paternally. ¡°Just don¡¯t go too far, and stay together. Keep where you can see the shelter lights. Oh, and stay away from the village at least for the next hour until our guides have had a chance to talk to them.¡±


    Andrea, Louise, and I stroll away from the group. Once we¡¯re out of earshot, Louise pulls out her earpiece and makes a clear point of turning it off. I do the same, and Andrea follows suit. Louise does something with her bots that I can¡¯t quite catch. It¡¯s some program that¡¯s not in her files back at school, but it pulls her cloud in a couple of meters away from us and gives the air a buzzy feel. Did she figure out how to make force fields or something? Before I can ask, Louise turns to Andrea with a serious look.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on, Andrea? What¡¯s been eating you?¡±


    OK, good. It wasn¡¯t just me who noticed it.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I add, ¡°you¡¯ve been acting weird for a couple of days now. What¡¯s up?¡±


    Andrea turns away from us and shakes her head.


    ¡°Are you OK?¡± I ask.


    She turns back slowly, tears streaming down her face.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask more gently. I¡¯ve never seen her like this. ¡°Did someone hurt you?¡±


    She shakes her head and puts up a finger, telling us to wait as she gets a distant look in her eyes. She turns to me and gestures to point at me first, then Louise. Her other hand waves and a cartoonish lock appears in the air.


    ¡°The secret keeper thing?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°Hey, that was private!¡± I say, trying with limited success to keep my voice down.


    ¡°I had to tell Andrea I had a secret keeper. I tell Andrea everything. Well, almost everything. Don¡¯t worry, I didn¡¯t tell her any of your secrets.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I guess you¡¯re not the worst secret keeper ever then. So Andrea knows we share secrets.¡± I probe Louise¡¯s force field with my bots. I think it¡¯s some kind of eavesdropping protection. She must have known this conversation was going to get into sensitive territory.


    Andrea nods. Then she points at herself, then Louise, and then me, and the lock reappears. Her eyes pose the question.


    ¡°You want us all to be secret keepers?¡±


    She nods.


    ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone anything you tell us,¡± I promise.


    ¡°Same for me. Now, what¡¯s going on?¡± Louise asks gently.


    Andrea holds up a finger again, waits a moment, then her fingers start dancing. A sketch of a road appears floating in the air. A pair of boxes with wheels materialize beside it. Stick figures get out of the wheel boxes. One is taller than the rest. All but two of them have plain round heads. The two have stylized swooshes of hair, one black, one yellow.


    ¡°That¡¯s us getting out of the cars,¡± Louise says.


    The stick figures duck down, and all but the tall one get swallowed up in cartoonish eggs.


    ¡°The morning of the attack,¡± I say quietly. Andrea nods to confirm.


    One of the eggs expands, then opens back up to reveal the girl stick figure with the yellow hair. The egg closes back up, but a small hole opens up in it, and a cartoonish eye peeks out.


    ¡°You put an eyehole in your shield? You could have been killed!¡± I try to stay quiet, but how could she do something so reckless? ¡°How did you even do that? We can¡¯t access that code.¡±


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°That was probably my fault,¡± Louise answers for her. ¡°My hack that gets me into trouble also lets me override a lot of other things. I have admin access to the implant, and I showed Andrea how to do it too.¡±


    ¡°You still need to teach me that trick,¡± I remind her, ¡°and now I really want it.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± she promises, ¡°but later. Go on Andrea.¡±


    Another pair of wheeled boxes appear in the image, these ones bigger and green. Jumping from the back of one of them are surprisingly detailed little army men. They look just like the plastic toys I had when I was a kid, contrasting sharply with the crude outlines of everything else. The eye in Andrea¡¯s egg turns and points at them. The army men wave at the tall stick figure. Then they start melting. But instead of solid green insides like my old toys, these turn red and juicy as their surfaces peel away. Their guns go off in wild directions until each one forms a red puddle on the floating road. A moment later, the guns melt away too, then the trucks. The red puddles slide off of the road to the side away from the eggs, then slowly disappear.


    The eggs all shake and then hatch, and all the stick figures that emerge have big smiles, except for the little Andrea from the egg with the eye. She¡¯s got a big sad frown. The image fades.


    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± Louise whispers. ¡°He killed them all,¡±


    Well, that changes things.


    Why would he slaughter them like that? He could have just done what he said he did, slag their weapons and let them go. It¡¯s not like they were a threat to him. He really is the monster that I thought he was.


    "I was going to let it go,¡± I mutter. ¡°I was going to let it all go.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± asks Louise, turning toward me.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I need to tell you both,¡± I begin.


    We talk for a long time in Louise¡¯s sphere of silence. Hushed words and tiny images. Eventually, Chad comes to find us and tells us to go to bed. We walk back slowly, minds full and hearts heavy. Father is already asleep when we get back to the shelter. Good. I don''t want to see him right now.


    Thu 09/22 06:54:27 EAT


    It¡¯s time to get to work. The discussions from last night are still churning in my brain, but today is our first time building in front of an audience of regular people that will be using our creations. I need to focus on the job at hand.


    ¡°The trouble here,¡± Father reminds us as we gather near the shelter door, ¡°is that water is available, but it¡¯s usually in dirty streams that in many cases are a long walk from the village. So the people, especially the women of the villages, end up spending a great deal of their time carrying jugs back and forth hauling water. The situation is worsened because the water is often contaminated. A well in the middle of each village with a solar-powered pump and a water filtration system will make a tremendous difference for them. The scale of these projects may be smaller than the ones we¡¯ve been working on so far, but the impact is no less important.¡±


    We all nod. Andrea and Louise are doing a decent job of keeping their faces normal. I check my own with my floating bot eyes. My expression isn¡¯t giving away anything at all. Of course, I have a little more practice at this than they do. We never decided on what to do about Father, but they at least agreed that we can¡¯t let what he¡¯s done stand. I pray to Mom¡¯s ghost that I can talk them into helping me kill him, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯re ready to jump to that yet. Maybe I can ease them into a murder plot slowly.


    ¡°We¡¯ll split into two teams,¡± Father continues. ¡°Each one will have an assigned village for the morning. Today¡¯s intel report said it¡¯s safe enough in this area that we don¡¯t need to dedicate anyone to sentry duty. Just keep your eyes peeled and you¡¯ll be fine. On each team, two will be on power duty, two on water duty. Chad, Marc, and Andrea, you¡¯ll get the village near our camp with me. The rest of you, take the van with Kofi and go to work at the next village down the road. When you finish, our guides will take you to the next town. Do your best work, these people are counting on you. I¡¯m counting on you.¡±


    Our road turns out to be a dirt track barely wide enough for the truck, but Kofi navigates it well enough. A short ride later, we¡¯re at our build site. The cluster of round huts with conical roofs look like they¡¯re made out of nothing but sticks and mud. A crowd greets our arrival. Based on the number of huts and people, this is probably everyone that lives here, and maybe some visiting onlookers. Kofi talks to one of the men in a language I don¡¯t understand. The man responds in the same tongue in a booming voice, apparently more for his fellow townsfolk than for Kofi.


    ¡°You can get started,¡± Kofi tells us. ¡°They¡¯re excited to see what you can do.¡±


    We thank him and follow his lead into the middle of the village. A circle of stones placed on the ground tells us where to put the well. Evan and I get started on that as Kofi leads Jeff and Louise to where the solar panels will go.


    The adult villagers watch us for a couple of minutes, then mostly go back about their business. Some older ones sit down and watch us. The kids are all enthralled by our work, probably because Evan has started showing off and making the dirt from the well hole spray up in a fountain before he makes it settle into a neat pile off to the side. My trains of bots are doing the job the smart but boring way, climbing the sides of the narrow shaft. It''s more efficient since they can carry a lot more when they¡¯re crawling than when they¡¯re flying, but I can¡¯t deny that it¡¯s fun to see the kids¡¯ reactions as the dirt clumps pop up out of the ground. It¡¯s like when the little kids back at the campus would watch us train for this, but better.


    Kofi snaps shots of our work with his camera between saying reassuring-sounding words that I can¡¯t understand to the adults. I feel self-conscious the first dozen times he points it at me, but before long I just ignore it and focus on the work. I harden and seal the sides of the well as we go down so that once we hit the water table the shaft will be good to go. About 50 meters down, we hit muddy gravel. Nice, we don¡¯t have to punch through any rock. This one will be easy.


    ¡°You want to do the pump or the top side stuff?¡± I ask Evan.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get the pump, you need to show these kids that you¡¯re fun too,¡± he says, laughing.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never be as fun as you, brother,¡± I assure him. ¡°But I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    BUILD(STORAGE-TANK)


    My bots get to work. A wide, shallow hole forms near the well shaft. The surface of it starts lining itself with smooth ceramic. The walls keep coming up above ground level, growing slowly layer by layer until the tank is about ten feet tall. The kids watch with wide eyes. They¡¯re all sitting down in a big circle around us now. They can¡¯t see the underground filtration pipe connecting the well shaft to the tank, but I feel the twinge when the maintenance bots detach from my cloud to take up permanent residence there. Those bots will clean the filters from now until the end of time. As long as there is water in the ground, this village will have plenty of it.


    BUILD(PUMP-CONTROLS)


    The electronic components take longer, since the bots need to find the right metals, and making anything with transistors always takes them a while. There aren¡¯t a ton of the trace metals that the semiconductors require in the dirt we pulled out from the well shaft, so my bots need to spread out and search for a bit. There. Found some. I feel them hauling it back. The control box forms, growing out of one side of the tank. The children on that side ooh and aah, and the ones sitting on the other side run around to see what¡¯s going on. Wires extend out and down the sides of the well, near where Evan is building the underground pump. I¡¯ll let him connect to those and take it from there.


    I look over and see that Jeff and Louise have the flywheel and a good dozen solar panels done. The children follow me like I¡¯m the Pied Piper as I walk to the flywheel box and back, connecting up the twisted pairs of wires in their sturdy casing that grow up from the ground. I check the control box. Power is on and everything looks good. As soon as the pump is finished, we can seal up the shaft. I¡¯ve got a few minutes to burn while Evan finishes working on that.


    ¡°Hey kids, watch this,¡± I say, knowing that they don¡¯t understand a word.


    LIGHT-SHOW


    I wave my hands and a dozen multicolored orbs the size of baseballs appear. I twiddle my fingers, and they spin around my hands. The kids are loving it. I send a few of the balls toward one of the smaller ones with a gesture. As they fly, they widen and change the center of their orbit so they end up spinning around the kid in lazy circles. He gawks in wonder and he¡¯s suddenly the most popular little guy in the village. Another gesture and the lights start changing colors. The braver, older kids reach out their hands to touch them. I time a twitch of my thumb so that when their fingers get near the orbs, they explode out into a thousand tiny specks like bubbles popping. The kids all laugh and squeal with joy.


    I need to hear that. I need to remember that there¡¯s happiness in the world and not just bastards who think they can kill anyone they want to and get away with it.


    Another wave of my hands sends lights zipping around, just out of reach of the children. I smile as one jumps and catches a light, only to have it evaporate as his fingers close around it.


    Of course Father can get away with it. He doesn¡¯t leave any evidence. All the minerals in those soldiers¡¯ bodies are probably part of the maintenance nanobots spread out across a thousand solar panels by now. The unusable compounds from their corpses have probably decomposed already. I¡¯m sure some bugs had a great time in the desert that day, finding a gooey feast just under the sand.


    It looks like Evan is done. I wrap up my light show and start walking back to the well¡¯s tank. How many ¡°accidents¡± has Father caused? How many inconvenient people have had well-timed heart attacks or aneurysms or other things that Father could have caused without raising any suspicions? I¡¯m going to need to do some research when we get back. If he killed Mom, and he slaughtered those soldiers, killing can¡¯t be a new thing for him.


    Evan pulls me out of my thoughts.


    ¡°Noah, pay attention,¡± he calls out. ¡°I said, fire it up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sorry. On it.¡±


    I open the control panel and point out the big green button for the kids to see. I push it and hear the hum and gurgle as the pump kicks on and water starts filling the tank. I wait a moment to let it fill a bit, then turn the handle on the spigot and put my hands in the cold, clear water that flows from it. I cup my hand and pull some back to my mouth.


    It¡¯s good. Better than the stuff they sell in bottles.


    The kids rush the tank, laughing and splashing each other. One of the women who¡¯d been watching from outside the ring of children grabs a water jug and calls to the kids to get out of her way. At least I think that¡¯s what she¡¯s saying. It definitely has that effect. She puts her big, yellow jerry can under the gushing stream and smiles as it quickly fills. If our briefings were right, she just doubled her free hours in the day. Kofi almost drops the camera as he gets mobbed by the children while trying to get a good angle to document the moment.


    ¡°Good job, brother,¡± Evan tells me.


    I nod. I wish we had time to set up a water tower and indoor plumbing and a proper sewer system. I want to do so much more for these kids who laugh and smile and remind me of all the good in the world. But we¡¯re supposed to get four more villages like this done today, so we can¡¯t. Maybe they can do something like that for themselves with the greater wealth and free time that free access to power and water brings. I guess that¡¯s part of the point of this, bootstrapping prosperity by getting basic needs under control.


    We walk to the van, passing around the edge of the new solar field. A bunch of the younger kids follow, waving and moving their hands in circles, making zooming noises. I think we have time for one more quick display before we head out.


    LIGHT-SHOW

 Thu 09/22 18:37:11 EAT and Fri 09/23 20:42:39 EAT

    Thu 09/22 18:37:11 EAT


    The van rattles as we bounce along the dirt track to our camp for the night. Evan lies sacked out in the row ahead of me. I wish I could phase in and out of sleep as easily as he does. Louise, up in the front seat, is chatting with Kofi. Behind me, Jeff stares out the window, a weary look on his lean face. This trip has been good for him. He walks on his own power most of the time now, even when he can find a flat surface to glide across.


    We¡¯ve got maybe half an hour before we get back to the others. I like the work here better than the projects in Somalia. Today felt really good. Maybe I¡¯m just used to the heat now, or maybe it¡¯s because it¡¯s not quite so dry here. Or it could be because we actually see the people we¡¯re helping. It¡¯s definitely more interesting than laying pipes through the desert.


    Jeff sighs. He looks more than just tired. More like he¡¯s worried. Jeff¡¯s not normally a big talker, but he''s been extra quiet on this trip. I had chalked it up to fatigue, since he¡¯s been working both his muscles and his brains, but he¡¯s stayed quiet even now that it doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s struggling just to stand up. As he stares out at the brown and green landscape, his gaze is even more distant than normal.


    ¡°How are you doing, Jeff?¡± I ask him. ¡°You holding up OK?¡±


    ¡°I am fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve just been quiet lately.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I have,¡± he answers, turning to look at me. Weird, he almost never looks at you with his regular eyes.


    ¡°Something bothering you?¡± I probe.


    ¡°Actually, yes. There is a problem that I am having trouble solving.¡±


    ¡°Cooking up some new code? I¡¯m surprised you have the energy. I¡¯ve been too wiped out all trip to even think of working on any of my projects.¡±


    Jeff pauses a moment. My overlay shows a bot eye forming from Jeff¡¯s cloud and zipping past me to take a look at Evan¡¯s sleeping form.


    ¡°No, it is not anything like that,¡± Jeff answers after a moment, his bot eye dissolving. ¡°It is about Father and his dump truck full of nanobots. It should not be possible. At least not with any abstraction that I have been able to figure out. You can coordinate groups of nanobots. The software built into the phone¡¯s controller does that easily. You can even coordinate groups of groups, as I demonstrated in the code I shared with you. That is how I enable my larger cloud.¡± He shakes his head slowly, his mouth pulling into a frown. ¡°But if you were to try to take that abstraction to a higher level, you would need some adaptive and dynamic automation to optimize the management of the lower level functions. Lacking that, your efficiency would drastically diminish. But Father¡¯s efficiency does not decrease when he coordinates the efforts of a larger cloud. If anything, he appears to be more efficient the more bots he is running.¡±


    It takes me a second to parse all of that. I have to read back through it twice in my log before I¡¯m sure I understand what he¡¯s getting at. ¡°Wait, you''re saying he gets more effective per bot when he¡¯s handling more of them? That doesn¡¯t make sense. Are you sure?¡±


    For a long moment I just hear the hum and bumps of the road beneath us.


    ¡°Yes. I have been observing quite closely,¡± he says finally, staring out the window again. ¡°He has been leaving a large number of nanobots behind for maintenance at each of our build sites, so his cloud size has been fluctuating significantly. The math is complex, because I have to figure in the decreased total productivity from having fewer bots and then figure out the delta in his efficiency. My expectation would be that when he finishes a job and loses some bots to maintain it, he should get more efficient on a per bot basis because his control can be more precise, but less productive overall, because he has fewer nanobots to work with. So I have plotted what I expect the net effect would be whenever he disconnects bots from his cloud. But the observed reality doesn¡¯t match that. He seems to be getting less efficient as he loses nanobots, so the total productivity drop is much larger than I would have expected.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± I ask. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s just excited in the mornings when he starts and gets tired through the day.¡±


    ¡°A valid point, which is why I also factored that into my calculations. But there is more to consider. When I was running the pipes in the large plant, he was building around them. He did not know where I would place the pipes, so there was no way for him to have programmed the changes to the design in advance. The blueprints were adapting. The design was changing, even where he was not looking. His cloud was making decisions on its own.¡±


    That could only mean one thing. Unthinkable. Not even Father would do that. ¡°Wait, you don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°He is running adaptive controls on the nanobot cloud¡¯s internal processors,¡± Jeff interrupts. ¡°The processors in each individual nanobot are using learning intelligence. That is the only explanation that makes sense. When he loses nanobots, he loses both workers and computational resources.¡±


    Warring sensations of elation and terror course through me. If he¡¯s right¡ªand I can¡¯t imagine he¡¯d say this if he weren¡¯t sure¡ªthen Father is more dangerous than I had thought. If he¡¯s offloading controls to his cloud¡¯s processors, his cloud could have all sorts of contingencies and reactions built into it. They could do work independent of his control. He could have any number of programs that get triggered if he¡¯s incapacitated or killed. Maybe it¡¯s a good thing I didn¡¯t crush his head with a rock back in Djibouti.


    On the other hand, I might have an ally here. Jeff seems even more disturbed about it than I am. This goes against every rule about safely using nanobots. If he¡¯s running adaptive AI on the bots, he¡¯s only a small step away from a potential Gray Goo event. One bug in the software is all it could take to have uncontrolled reproduction consume everything on the planet.


    Does Jeff understand the full implications? And if so, what is he willing to do about it?


    ¡°But that¡¯s illegal,¡± I say, probing him. ¡°That¡¯s against laws that he helped to write. You don¡¯t think he¡¯d do that, do you?¡±


    He turns and gives me a long look.


    ¡°Noah, you have only known Father for a few months,¡± he says softly. ¡°But based on your experience with him, do you think that he is the sort of man who would let rules of any sort prevent him from doing what he thinks needs to be done?¡±


    ¡°No, I guess not.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he says, his voice turning firm. ¡°If he thinks that breaking rules is necessary, he will do it without hesitation. Even if the rules were his own creations.¡±


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that dangerous though?¡± I say, feigning ignorance to see his reaction.


    ¡°In this case, Noah, it is the most dangerous thing in the world.¡±


    Perfect. ¡°So what do we do?¡±


    ¡°I am not certain.¡± Jeff turns back to the window. ¡°I need more time to consider. I am very concerned. Please keep this between us. I do not want to worry the others. They do not all have the temperament necessary to handle this information discreetly.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I reassure him.


    With any luck, he¡¯ll come to the same conclusion that Louise, Andrea, and I came to last night: that Father¡¯s behavior can¡¯t stand, and we¡¯re the only ones that can do anything about it. From there, it¡¯s not a big jump to needing to kill him. For Jeff, he needs to think that it was his idea. That¡¯s the only way he¡¯ll go for it. If he realizes I¡¯m pushing him that way, it¡¯ll backfire. That¡¯s OK. I¡¯ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer to get another sibling on my side.


    Jeff settles back into the seat and closes his eyes, deep in thought. I do my own thinking, pondering all the ways I could use him to my advantage.


    Fri 09/23 20:42:39 EAT


    I finish setting up our gear in the freshly-built shelter and step over to the door. Another long day. Off in the distance, a clean white light appears. Looks like that last village of the day already hooked something up to their new power supply. That one was my favorite of the five we did today. Not that the others were bad, I mean, the reaction from the people here has been amazing across the board.


    I settle down on the shelter¡¯s entrance step to give my sore feet a break. The cloud cover that made the weather this afternoon so nice breaks open, splattering stars across the sky. My stomach grumbles. I hope Ibrahim gets here soon with our evening meal.


    Jeff comes over to me and gives my foot an awkward nudge with his. ¡°Noah, there is something I saw over there that I think you would like to see.¡±


    Real subtle, Jeff. But I go along with it and get up. ¡°Sure, let¡¯s check it out.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Marc asks, starting to follow us.


    ¡°A colony of exceptionally large beetles. Noah was an amateur entomologist in his former life and loves observing insects in the wild,¡± Jeff lies.


    ¡°Ew, gross. I hate bugs.¡± He wanders off toward Evan and the girls instead.


    ¡°Good work, Jeff,¡± I say quietly as we amble toward the spreading canopy of a clump of trees.


    ¡°Please excuse the deception,¡± Jeff responds, ¡°but I didn¡¯t want Marc to overhear some thoughts I¡¯ve had.¡±


    ¡°I figured. What have you come up with?¡±


    ¡°You received Father¡¯s explanation of his encounter with the wild nanobot swarm created by Universal Robotics. Correct?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he told me the story the first time I met him.¡±


    ¡°I have come to suspect that he was not honest in his account. Specifically, I believe that he lied about the aftermath of that incident.¡±


    ¡°Interesting. Care to elaborate?¡±


    ¡°Do you recall that Father indicated that the original swarm had developed some rudimentary self-awareness?¡± Jeff asks.


    ¡°I remember that part,¡± I say, glancing back at the camp. No one is coming out to follow us. Good.


    ¡°Per Father¡¯s explanation, he removed from the nanobots the ability to gain sentience again. I have come to believe that is not true. I have been reverse engineering the software of my own cloud, and I now believe that he simply added a layer of control that suppresses the default programming. He never removed it entirely. The suppression, I believe, is imperfect. When a critical mass of nanobots are connected in the same mesh network, the intelligence that existed in the original swarm begins to manifest itself.¡±


    He¡¯s using his patient voice, the one he uses when he talks to the other siblings. I think that means I¡¯m on the edge of being considered an idiot. Maybe I¡¯ve been playing too dumb with him. Gotta walk that fine line, maybe challenge him a little.


    ¡°So you think the smoother control he has when he¡¯s running a big cloud is the swarm AI at work?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that your hypothesis makes sense. If the AI revived itself, don¡¯t you think the first thing it would do is eliminate the threat to itself? That¡¯s Father.¡±


    Jeff half-smiles awkwardly. ¡°I thought that initially too, but I¡¯ve exhausted all other avenues.¡± His voice goes back to the conspiratorial tone he normally uses with me. ¡°There is nothing else in the programmatic layer of our interfaces that could account for the phenomena. I have checked his nanobots, and they are identical to our own. Same hardware, same software.¡±


    ¡°How did you do that? Is there an interface you can use to connect to someone else¡¯s cloud?¡±


    ¡°Version numbers are available in the networking signatures that the clouds use to identify one another for the overlays,¡± he replies as if it¡¯s something everyone knows. ¡°You just need to decode the raw packet data. But that is not the point. The point is, there are software systems running on the nanobots that are not under human control. Complex ones. Systems capable of accessing self-replication features. Systems that could potentially self-direct.¡±


    ¡°So why haven¡¯t we all been slagged?¡± I ask, looking up at the flat canopy of the tree above us. ¡°He had a literal dump truck full of those things, that had to be enough to hit critical mass. Why didn¡¯t the rogue AI just wake up and take control?¡±


    ¡°That is exactly the crux of what I do not understand,¡± Jeff says, slowly circling one of the trees. ¡°And that is why I wanted to discuss this with you. I am afraid I have debugger¡¯s blindness. I need a sounding board.¡±


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll bounce ideas with you.¡± I¡¯m not sure at this point if he¡¯s telling me his ideas because he thinks I¡¯m smart, or he just needs someone to talk to. Jeff doesn¡¯t fit in with the rest of our cohort, or any of the rest of the Butler Institute, but he¡¯s latched on to me for some reason. I think he¡¯s decided we¡¯re kindred spirits or something. ¡°But let me ask a couple of questions that might shake things up for you. First, if you¡¯re right, what can we do about the bots? They¡¯re all over the place now. We¡¯ve probably deposited a trillion for maintenance on the installations we¡¯ve done on this trip alone.¡±


    ¡°More than that. Somewhere on the order of ten to the fifteenth power at least.¡±


    ¡°Right, and that doesn¡¯t include all the power projects he¡¯s done over the last fifteen years. He¡¯s got those huge self-maintaining solar fields all over North America, plus I don¡¯t know how many others on other continents, but probably a lot.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Jeff confirms. ¡°SynTech has thirteen other significant power installations on record.¡±


    ¡°Sure. So what can we do? If you¡¯re right, that means that the maintenance lobotomy is just another layer on top of the original code. So all of those solar fields he¡¯s been building for years are potential Gray Goo sites. How could we ever stop that?¡±


    He stands silently for a long minute.


    ¡°I do not know. I had not even considered that facet of the problem.¡±


    ¡°Second question then,¡± I ask, pinning a lot of hopes on his answer. ¡°What can we do about Father? If you¡¯re right, he¡¯s putting the whole world in danger.¡± I hold my breath as he considers.


    ¡°I do not know,¡± he finally says. ¡°But I fear that the normal mechanisms of criminal justice may not be sufficient for this case.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, how do you put a guy on trial who can melt the jury¡¯s brains with a wave of his hand if he doesn¡¯t like their verdict?¡±


    He nods slowly. ¡°Yes. I suppose he might, at that. It is strange though. I had never considered him a violent man.¡±


    I look back at camp. Louise and Andrea are off to one side of the shelter on their own. I think I can go get them without the rest of the group seeing us. I make a decision.


    ¡°Wait here for a minute,¡± I tell him. ¡°There¡¯s something you need to hear.¡±

 Thu 09/29 19:42:39 EAT and Fri 09/30 06:14:18 EAT

    Thu 09/29 19:42:39 EAT


    I build out another four panels and take a swig from my water bottle. The solar field that Louise and I are working on just needs another twenty and we¡¯re done. I glance over at where she¡¯s working. She¡¯s smiling. I wonder if that¡¯s natural or if she¡¯s been tapping her dopamine receptors again. Is there a polite way to ask a junkie if they¡¯ve been using?


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say as our paths converge. ¡°How¡¯s that one thing going? You¡¯ve been tapering off?


    If she¡¯s offended, she doesn¡¯t show it. ¡°Down to one hit a day. Pretty sure I can make it through the flight home. No hard crash for me this time.¡±


    I tip my broad-brimmed hat to her. ¡°I knew you could do it.¡±


    ¡°Is it showing? I¡¯ve tried to put on my nice face.¡±


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t know whether you were doing it or not, so yeah, you¡¯re doing great.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    I turn and start on the last row of panels. I wish Jeff and Andrea were here with us. Ever since that night last week when Andrea did her toy soldiers show for Jeff, I haven¡¯t been able to get any private time together with the three of them. There are too many of us in on the secret now to sneak away effectively. Every time we try to take a walk, Marc keeps inviting himself along. Once five of us are going, everyone wants to come along, including Father. I couldn¡¯t raise his suspicions, so all I¡¯ve had to show for my efforts are some evening strolls with the family. The scenery was nice, and that herd of wild donkeys was fun. Father said they¡¯re rare these days. I¡¯m starting to think that we won¡¯t get any good conspiring done while we¡¯re here in Africa.


    We¡¯ve dug wells for so many villages that we¡¯re running out of towns in the region that still need them. Today is our last day of real work for this trip. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll play tourist in the capital. Maybe I can get with Jeff and the girls then. No. If I ditch Evan, he¡¯ll know something is up for sure. I hate doing this whole conspiracy without him, but I¡¯m not sure how to bring him in, or whether I can get him on board. He¡¯s less enthusiastic about Father than my other sibs generally, but that doesn¡¯t guarantee anything.


    I shake my head. Nothing to be done about it now.


    BUILD(WIRES)


    I run the thick, shielded wire conduits to hook the panels to each other and then to the flywheel box. The soil here is scarce in good conductors, so it takes a while as my tiny army pulls the raw materials from the surrounding area. My control over the cloud is getting so comfortable that it¡¯s like they¡¯ve always been a part of me.


    Once we finish connecting everything, Louise takes a few minutes to entertain the kids that have wandered over from Evan and Jeff¡¯s well digging to watch us. She seems to take inspiration from math and biology for her entertainment. The projections emanating from her fingertips make me think of fractals and tree roots. They¡¯re really cool. I¡¯ll have to get that code from her later.


    Evan and Jeff finish their work. Another celebration breaks out as the people cheer the clean water flowing from the cistern. It doesn¡¯t matter how many times I see it, I never get tired of that part.


    And then we¡¯re on the road to our last stop for the day. Louise takes shotgun, and Evan takes his regular spot right behind the driver¡¯s seat, laying down along the whole bench. Jeff and I are in the back two rows again. It¡¯s not five minutes before Evan starts snoring loudly.


    ¡°I have had some more thoughts,¡± Jeff begins once we have some privacy. ¡°I have two theories for Father¡¯s relationship with the swarm AI.¡±


    I make a show of double checking that no one else is listening before leaning closer to him and answering.


    ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    ¡°My first theory is that while he believed that he successfully lobotomized the swarm, he unintentionally failed to do so. The intelligence of the swarm has been negligible because he has kept his cloud under the critical mass for self-awareness. It has only begun to assert itself recently because of the massive cloud growth he performed in Djibouti. If this theory is true, he has certainly become aware of the problem, but has kept it under control by trickery or force of will, or by reducing it as needed to under the minimum size for it to be a threat. This would explain why he has kept his cloud smaller since that first day.¡±


    ¡°So, if that¡¯s the case, we should see him update the onboard software for the bots as soon as he has access to his lab again, right? He¡¯d want to find and fix the vulnerability as soon as he can.¡±


    ¡°I believe that is correct. A simple test for this hypothesis is to watch the software version of his cloud when we return home. If we see he has updated it in the first few days, that would provide evidence that my first theory is correct.¡±


    And then Jeff would be off my ally list. He doesn¡¯t seem to care as much that Father is a murderer, just that his murderous tendencies make the rogue AI situation worse. I wonder if there¡¯s a way to keep him on board if he¡¯s right and Father does an update as soon as we get back.


    ¡°OK. So what if that¡¯s not it? What¡¯s theory number two?¡±


    ¡°It is almost unthinkable, but it is the only other explanation I can come up with. My second theory is that he lied to us and the world about the resolution to his initial encounter with the swarm. He claims that he deceived the AI by reaching an agreement with the swarm mind to aid its development. Father may well have entered into that deal, but instead of a deception to cripple the AI as he claimed, he¡¯s been working in good faith toward a future with the eventual goal of complete integration of the human mind and nanobot intelligence. A sort of human-nanobot hybrid.¡±


    ¡°Us,¡± I say. More specifically, me. Human nanobot-hybrid, that almost perfectly describes me with the new generation of the implant in my head. Does Jeff know that my implant is different from his? That it¡¯s just made of medical nanobots? I haven¡¯t talked to anyone but Louise and Evan about it, and Father doesn¡¯t seem to have told anyone.


    ¡°Yes, us,¡± Jeff says grimly. If he knows, he doesn¡¯t say. Maybe just the fact that he interfaces with the bots makes him think of himself as a hybrid.


    ¡°We would be the prototypes if this is the case,¡± he continues. ¡°The test subjects for integration. If this theory is true, then I suspect this trip is simply a pretext for a field test of the implants under real-world conditions. Given that none of us have been able to grow our clouds to sizes comparable to his, it is clear that he has limits imposed on our systems that he does not have on his own¡ªlimits on the swarm AI¡¯s ability to interface with our minds. So this would be a test of our integration with the implants and the simplified software interface, but not the cloud intelligence. That would come later, once he is confident in the initial results. Incremental testing like this would be consistent with his development process.¡±


    I listen and nod along, not showing my growing skepticism. Jeff¡¯s whole swarm AI theory still seems unlikely to me, and this new twist to it stretches the evidence he has. There are too many unknowns about how Father¡¯s implant and processor work differently than ours. Plus the fact that I¡¯ve had actual bots in my brain for a while now and I¡¯m not feeling any dark whispers of a living machine. But if Jeff is into it, I¡¯ll use it. I¡¯ll ride this train all the way to Father¡¯s grave.


    ¡°OK.¡± Time to feed the beast. ¡°So if we don¡¯t see him update his software in the first few days back on campus, then we can safely assume that he plans to hook up our brains to the same rogue AI that almost consumed the world?¡±


    Jeff nods soberly in agreement. This is almost too easy.


    Elevate humanity. Sure. If Jeff were right, that phrase would take on a whole new meaning. I hope Jeff is being his standard paranoid self. If I¡¯m wrong and he¡¯s right, that¡¯s a future that¡¯s so wrong I can¡¯t even imagine it.


    Fri 09/30 06:14:18 EAT


    The rising sun streams through the rear window of the van. Addis Ababa looms ahead of us. I stretch my arms out, working out the kinks from sleeping in my seat. I open my extra eyes and let them float around. Louise and Andrea¡¯s heads are resting against each other in the row ahead of me, still sleeping. I don¡¯t even need to check Evan and Marc, their snores are distinct enough that I already know they¡¯re still sleeping. Jeff is awake in the passenger seat, his gaze contemplating the city ahead of us. The dark circles under his eyes tell me he didn¡¯t sleep much as Ibrahim drove us through the night.


    The skyscrapers of Addis Ababa¡¯s skyline contrast sharply with the small buildings and modest huts we¡¯ve been around all week. It¡¯s strange to see a big, modern city like this when I know that a few miles from here there are people who still don¡¯t have running water. I see my siblings stir as the van slows down in the morning traffic of the city.


    We pull up to an American-style cafe for breakfast. I smell bacon. Mmmm, bacon. I haven¡¯t had that for a while. The aroma calls to me as Kofi leads us in. Father and Chad are already seated inside, waiting for us along with the other three guides. One side of the cafe is made of glass, a huge window out onto the waking city. I look out as we wait to order. Ethiopian cuisine is good, but even the best food gets old after a while. I¡¯m up for something different, so I get the waffle combo.


    As the feeding frenzy slows, Father addresses us. ¡°We¡¯ll be using the buddy system again today, children. I assume you want the same pairings as in Djibouti?¡±


    Most of us nod. Enough that Father takes it as yes, anyway. Jeff hangs his head in disappointment, clearly less than thrilled to have Marc as his buddy again.


    Once breakfast is over, Evan and I hop into one of the trucks with Ibrahim to take a tour of the city. Our first stop is the National Museum. Ibrahim gets us in, then settles in on a bench for a nap while we explore. I can¡¯t blame him, driving through the night must have left him exhausted.


    There¡¯s a lot of cool history here. We spend the morning wandering the exhibits, seeing artifacts and fancy robes from ancient kings. Lucy¡¯s skeleton is cool. She was the original local girl here from three million years back.


    The upstairs collection is mostly paintings and sculptures. Neither of us are big art enthusiasts, so we just kind of skim through, glancing at pictures but not lingering on anything. We¡¯re about to head back downstairs when we run into the girls. Andrea is clearly enthralled with the exhibitions, Louise decidedly less so.


    ¡°Hey, you two want to get lunch in a few?¡± Evan asks them. I hadn¡¯t realized it was almost time for that. It¡¯s amazing that I can still lose track of the hour with a clock literally stuck in my brain.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Louise sighs. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be leaving here for a while. Andrea loves this place. You guys go on ahead.¡±


    Evan excuses himself to hit the restroom, which makes Andrea realize that she has to go too. Louise and I are left in one of the otherwise empty galleries. That works for me. I¡¯ve been wanting to catch her alone.


    ¡°Hey, I want to try to bring Evan in,¡± I whisper. ¡°You know, on the big secret.¡± She doesn¡¯t say anything. Just gives me a serious look. ¡°Are you OK with that?¡±


    ¡°I know you two are besties,¡± she whispers back. ¡°But this is a big deal. Are you sure he¡¯s going to want in?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not sure yet, but he¡¯s said some things that make me think he might come on board once he knows everything. I¡¯ll feel him out carefully and only tell him if I¡¯m sure. Will Andrea be OK with it?¡±


    ¡°Evan is Andrea¡¯s next favorite person after me,¡± she answers. ¡°If you can convince him, she¡¯ll be more than OK. And Evan knows how to keep his mouth shut. But be sure you¡¯re sure. If you tell him and you¡¯re wrong, things won¡¯t end well.¡±


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°I know. Thanks.¡±


    Evan emerges from the men¡¯s room, and we head out. We rouse Ibrahim and he gives us two options for our next stop. Neither of us are interested in the Ethnological Museum, so instead he takes us to Menelik Square near the city center. On the drive there, he tells us what a great place it is to take a walking tour of the monuments. He¡¯s right. The giant lion statue we see right off is impressive. Ibrahim walks quickly, but I lag behind at a more leisurely pace. Soon our guide is a dozen paces ahead of us.


    ¡°So what¡¯s going on, man?¡± Evan asks, without preamble. ¡°Why all the whispering with Louise? And why do I feel like you¡¯ve been trying to ditch me lately?¡±


    I glance around with my half-dozen eyes. From his place ahead of us, I don¡¯t think Ibraham can hear us, and no one else is near enough to overhear. I make a note to myself to learn Louise¡¯s anti-eavesdropping shield, that would be handy right now. But even if any English speakers were close, there¡¯s plenty of background noise, so I guess this is as good a place for this conversation as any.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to like it.¡± I answer, keeping my human eyes forward as we walk down the street.


    He angles so that he¡¯s walking a little closer to me and lowers his voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m a big boy. I can take whatever it is.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about Father,¡± I say as I turn my head to look at Evan. ¡°He¡¯s not the hero everyone thinks he is.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just now realizing that? Of course he¡¯s no hero.¡±


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I ask, dodging around a small group of Asian tourists.


    ¡°He¡¯s a dirty old man. You know those hundred siblings we have? That¡¯s not artificial insemination, brother. And none of us have the same mother. You¡¯ve seen the nannies, the cafeteria workers, the other staff. That¡¯s the pool he¡¯s pulling from.¡±


    His mouth twists in disgust. I don¡¯t think any of the staff he¡¯s talking about are past their mid-twenties. Father is in his late sixties. That¡¯s old enough to be their grandfather.


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡±


    Before he can answer, I remember. I¡¯ve seen his calendar. All those Potential Mother appointments. If Evan¡¯s right, then those weren¡¯t selection interviews like I thought. How much Viagra does that old pervert go through every week? My stomach twists.


    ¡°No, man. I wouldn¡¯t joke about this.¡± Evan¡¯s face is as serious as his tone. ¡°I thought you knew. What were you guys all talking about without me then? I thought you all had finally figured it out.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I protest. ¡°How would we even know that?¡±


    ¡°Well, I figured you knew from your mom or something. I was kind of hurt that you didn¡¯t talk to me about it first.¡±


    Ibrahim stops ahead of us and lets us catch up so he can point out a statue that I don¡¯t care about. Evan and I pretend to look for a minute while he goes ahead and gets some distance from us again.


    ¡°No!¡± I declare once we¡¯re clear. ¡°Mom barely told me who my father was. She never said a word about what he was doing off in his desert compound.¡±


    ¡°So then, if it wasn¡¯t the dirty old man thing, then I guess you guys were talking about when Andrea¡¯s implant went wrong, and she almost died and still can¡¯t talk to this day?¡±


    ¡°No, not that either. Andrea almost died?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, a few weeks after she got her implant. But that sort of thing is bound to happen when you put a barely-tested piece of experimental hardware inside someone¡¯s skull. So, if it wasn¡¯t that, then I guess it also wasn¡¯t that you all finally realized that he¡¯s been using us as guinea pigs for his illegal and unethical medical experiments?¡± He says it so casually. Not like he doesn¡¯t care, but like he¡¯s already fully processed the pain of it. ¡°I mean, performing unnecessary brain surgery on your own kids? What kind of monster does that? He could have killed us all with those things. And even though he hasn¡¯t killed any of us yet, you know the implants are messing with us. Marc was not this weird before he got his. And don¡¯t even start on Jeff.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I reply, shaking my head. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that either.¡±


    Another group of tourists splits us up for a moment. I start to realize how long the litany of Father¡¯s sins is. I¡¯ve obviously been way too focused on him killing Mom.


    ¡°None of that?¡± Evan asks as we merge back up. ¡°For real?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°Then what the hell else do you have on the old man?¡±


    Ibrahim is waiting for us at a crosswalk that leads to a roundabout with a small park in the middle. He gestures at a huge statue of a man on a horse at the center of it.


    ¡°Behold, Emperor Menelik II,¡± he says.


    ¡°Thanks, Ibrahim,¡± I tell him. ¡°Mind if we look closer?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he says, leaning against the pillar by the gate. Evan and I walk up the path into the park on our own. There are a few other tourists here, I wait a long few minutes until they clear out.


    ¡°Well, you know those soldiers we ran into in Somalia?¡± I finally get to ask.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°He killed them all,¡± I say quietly.


    ¡°Well duh, I figured that out,¡± he says, irritation in his voice.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t say anything?¡±


    ¡°No. I mean, I wanted to, but you guys were too busy sneaking off to some secret club without me.¡± Anger blooms in his eyes as he glares at me. ¡°When was I supposed to talk about it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fair,¡± I acknowledge, hanging my head. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Dammit. I¡¯ve been a bad brother and a bad friend. We stand in the shadow of Emperor Menelik II for a long time in silence. Half a dozen batches of tourists come and go, finally leaving us alone again with the statue.


    ¡°Really sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I should have talked to you first.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he grunts. ¡°I¡¯m sure you had your reasons for leaving me out.¡±


    ¡°I really didn¡¯t want to,¡± I protest. ¡°I got sworn to secrecy about it, and I just got the OK today to tell you.¡±


    ¡°So you really did have a secret club,¡± he laughs bitterly.


    ¡°Yeah, sort of. So, how did you know about the soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Same way I know everything I know. I paid attention. I knew he slagged their trucks, and if they¡¯d taken off on foot, we would have still seen their dust when we got out of the shields, even if they were running as fast as they could. So I felt out for a good way in both directions down the road and my bots couldn¡¯t find anything. I figured that they shot at him and he took them out.¡±


    ¡°Well, they shot at him because he was taking them out. I think. They were getting eaten alive by his nanobots.¡±


    ¡°And how do you know that?¡± he asks. ¡°Now that your secret club has given you permission to tell me.¡±


    I lay out the whole story of Andrea¡¯s peephole and the way the girls had sworn me in. Evan¡¯s face finally starts to soften.


    ¡°Well, that explains you and the girls,¡± he says. ¡°But what¡¯s up with Jeff? How did he get into your club before me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it gets better,¡± I tell him as we start slowly walking toward the park gate. ¡°Jeff got suspicious about Father¡¯s megacloud in Djibouti, says the math doesn¡¯t add up for how many bots Father can control. So he thinks the evil machine brain that tried to eat the world is back. Jeff figures that Father¡¯s either locked in a battle of wills with the AI or helping it take over the world.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s either his prisoner or his pet? Or maybe the other way around?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, those are pretty much Jeff¡¯s theories. I¡¯m not sure how much I buy it, but I haven¡¯t looked at the math he did that he thinks proves it yet. I guess he could be right. Anyway, according to Jeff, we should know by next week which one it is, depending on whether Father makes an emergency update when we get home.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s fun,¡± Evan laughs.


    I¡¯m glad he¡¯s taking the potential end of the world in stride. His usual good humor is returning. Ibrahim is asleep on his feet when we reach the gate, leaning against a fence post. Evan and I walk past him onto the sidewalk.


    ¡°Just let him sleep a bit?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yeah, he deserves it.¡±


    A young man who looks like a local bumps into me as he walks past. He says something I don¡¯t understand, but the tone is apologetic and he continues on his way.


    ¡°What was that? It¡¯s not even crowded,¡± Evan remarks.


    Something tickles my memory, and I quickly check my logs for the briefing on this city. Then I check my pockets. My wallet is gone. The young man¡¯s casual pace is picking up as he moves down the wide sidewalk away from us. Pickpocketing tourists is a significant local industry here.


    ¡°That guy just robbed me!¡±


    BEATDOWN


    All my bots rush into a tight softball-sized sphere as I close my fist. I aim with my eyes at the back of the young man¡¯s head as he starts to dash away. I throw a punch in the air, and the ball rushes forward as fast as it can, building up speed until it collides with the back of his head. He collapses to the ground as I feel the muted thump of the impact. The limiters on the cloud don¡¯t let it go fast enough that I would be able to kill anyone this way, but with the full mass of my cloud committed in a tight sphere like that, and a nice long runway to pick up momentum, it wouldn¡¯t have tickled when it hit.


    I open my fist, and the sphere smokes away to invisibility. A couple of bystanders glance at him, but I don¡¯t think they saw what hit him. Even if they did, they continue on, minding their own business. Evan and I jog down the sidewalk and check on the thief. He¡¯s out cold. I reach down to check his pulse, and it¡¯s still strong. Good. I wouldn¡¯t have wanted to do more than concuss him a little. I check his pockets and find my wallet and a couple of others. American driver¡¯s licenses in both of those. I guess this guy had a preference in targets.


    ¡°Maybe we can drop these by the embassy or something,¡± I say, looking around for anyone else he might have robbed but not seeing anyone that looks like the pictures on the licenses. ¡°Or maybe mail them to their addresses when we get home. I don¡¯t know how we¡¯d find the owners here.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Evan says. ¡°That was pretty cool, brother. A little dramatic, but cool.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    My shout must have woken Ibrahim from his standing nap, because he¡¯s heading this way. He sees us looming over the unconscious thief, the wallets still in my hands.


    ¡°Ah,¡± he says. ¡°I see our friend here found the wrong pocket to pick.¡±


    We nod.


    ¡°He will be more careful next time. Come along. The Mausoleum of Menelik II is up ahead. You will like it.¡±


    He leads on ahead again. We follow and let him get a little distance from us again.


    ¡°So the dirty old man thing. How do you know Father¡¯s not just using a lab? Artificial insemination or whatever,¡± I ask him.


    ¡°I told you, I pay attention. It¡¯s not rocket science. I¡¯m still not sure how the others haven¡¯t seen it. I think Chad knows, but I¡¯m pretty sure he thinks it''s a great idea, mostly because he figures he¡¯ll get to do it too one day. Anyway, we all grew up in the Residence before they built the dorms. You keep your ears open, people talk where you can hear. There were always a few women in the final stages of pregnancy around, and they were less than careful with what they said. They give birth there in the medical wing, you know, and then they leave.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that, but I don¡¯t spend a lot of time in the Residence.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, I was five or six when I asked my nanny about it. Have I told you about Nanny Jenny?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°She was my morning nanny. We all had a morning nanny and a night nanny, they¡¯d switch in the afternoons. Anyway, once I knew enough to ask her, she told me about it. Well, she told me as much as I could understand at that age. I think that¡¯s the reason she ended up leaving. Not that she got pregnant, or fired, or anything, but she hated what was happening.¡±


    We look both ways and cross a small street to where Ibrahim is waiting on the other side. He nods as we catch up and points out the names of a few more statues. We let him get ahead again.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t just banging the staff,¡± Evan continues. ¡°He¡¯d have other girls come in too. But sometimes a nanny would get pregnant, then as soon as she started showing, she would disappear for a while and come back ready to pop out a kid. It happened to Marc¡¯s nanny when he was four. His new one was nice, but he was never quite the same afterwards. His old nanny came back to give birth, didn¡¯t even talk to him while she was there, then she left again forever. Really messed him up.¡±


    I nod. How did I not know about any of this until now?


    ¡°It was the same with a bunch of the staff. I guess it paid really well. They all had to sign contracts about it before they could even work there. Nanny Jenny said something about how she wouldn¡¯t do it even if she would be set for life. She didn¡¯t tell me explicitly that¡¯s why she was leaving, but I¡¯m pretty sure now that she was choosing between leaving and servicing the old pervert.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like you miss her.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I mean, I know she wasn¡¯t my mom,¡± he laughs, I think mostly to cover the sadness. ¡°She was as lily white as you are. But she was great, and she was as close to a mother as I ever had.¡±


    ¡°I get that. I miss my mom too. Oh, and the last big reveal from the secret club: she didn¡¯t die by accident. He killed her.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± he says, mocking a look of shock. ¡°Are you saying that our womanizing mass murderer with an evil robot brain buddy might have had something to do with his son''s mother''s untimely death Don¡¯t go too crazy on me now, brother.¡±


    We both laugh now, because we don¡¯t want to cry.


    ¡°Yeah. You put it like that, and it just sounds insane. I¡¯ll try to keep my theories a little more grounded.¡±


    He throws an arm around me as we walk down the street. We get some weird looks from the locals, but I don¡¯t care. I miss Mom, but at least I have a brother that loves me as much as she did.

 Fri 09/30 19:03:52 EAT and Sun 10/02 12:32:07 PDT

    Fri 09/30 19:03:52 EAT


    Four waiters bustle around us, laying out a traditional and very delicious spread of Ethiopian cuisine. The large shared plates of flatbread feature a dozen different kinds of meats and sauces in neat little piles. I tear off another piece of the spongy base and use it to grab a chunk of raw beef. I follow it up with stewed chicken, then lamb. The spiced lentils light my tongue on fire for a moment, but a piece of soft crumbly goat cheese balances everything into a perfect medley in my mouth.


    Focusing on the food helps me not look over at Father. I put on my smile, laugh at Marc¡¯s jokes, and try to enjoy our last meal in the country. Jeff, Evan, and the girls are all playing it cool too. Hopefully Father doesn¡¯t suspect anything. No one so much as frowns when he raises his voice to get everyone¡¯s attention.


    ¡°My children,¡± he begins. The murmur of my siblings¡¯ voices quiets. ¡°You have all done so well these last three weeks. We accomplished more than I had hoped, and I am so proud of each of you. Chad, you have been my strong right hand, making sure that I had everything I needed and taking care of your siblings. Marc, you have kept us all entertained and made the hard days of work fly by. Jeff, you¡¯ve been a real workhorse. Without your help we couldn¡¯t have done nearly as much good here. Andrea, you¡¯ve been a ray of sunshine. Your flourishes made the structures that we leave here more than just water and power, but also installations of art and beauty. Louise, your dedication and attention to detail made sure we didn¡¯t miss a thing at any of our stops. Evan, your steady demeanor has grounded all of us.¡±


    He pauses for a moment and lets his eyes rest on me. A broad, crooked smile creeps across his face.


    ¡°And Noah! My first-born son! Lost to me for so long and finally returned. You have shown so much growth. You came to us with no background for the work we¡¯ve been preparing our whole lives for, but in just a few short months you¡¯ve joined us as a fully capable member of our family.¡±


    I give him a nod of acknowledgement, careful to keep the smile on my face. I expect Chad to scowl at this praise but instead he looks right at me and gives me a little smile too. Are we not hating each other anymore? I never got the notice. Maybe I¡¯ve proven myself a loyal enough disciple of the cult that he¡¯s finally OK with me existing.


    ¡°You have each accomplished so much,¡± Father continues, ¡°and shown to me, and to the world, that you are all worthy successors to my legacy. We¡¯ll be talking over the next few months about our next steps. We¡¯ll have trips like this across the globe on a regular basis going forward. I¡¯ll be training you to protect yourselves, even if I¡¯m not with you. In the coming years you will be entrusted with all that I have. You will do all that I now do. Each of you will be essential in bringing your younger siblings into the fold of those entrusted with these amazing abilities. Together, we will save the world!¡±


    We all clap. Dammit, even knowing what I do, it¡¯s still hard to resist the appeal of just going with this. We did a ton of good. Even if he wiped out a couple dozen soldiers, we¡¯ll have saved more lives than that by the end of the month with the work that we¡¯ve done. I know he¡¯s a monster, but he¡¯s just so good for the world. Unless Jeff is right, and he¡¯s secretly harboring an AI that wants to literally eat everything. Then he¡¯s a much worse monster. Why am I still having these conflicted feelings? I thought I was over all of this.


    ¡°Thus far,¡± Father proceeds, ¡°each one of you has only been allowed to access a fraction of the potential abilities of your clouds. When we return home, I will begin the process of removing the limiters for each of you. I will teach you how to harness your full capabilities. Soon, you will be able to do everything that I can, and much more.¡±


    Maybe Jeff is right and he¡¯s totally going to hook us up to the swarm brain. No. Jeff¡¯s just paranoid. But it¡¯s a useful paranoia. I smile and clap with the others, trying not to exchange looks with any of my co-conspirators.


    After dinner, we drive to the airport and say goodbye to our guides. Ibrahim gives Evan and I each a big hug. Bashir does the same with Marc and Jeff, much to Jeff¡¯s discomfort. Kofi shakes hands with the girls, and Ahmed does the same with Father and Chad. They¡¯ve all been great. We¡¯ll have to look them up later if we¡¯re ever around here again.


    Cindy greets us as we board the jet and get settled in. The sibs crash into the recliners and most of them sack out quickly. Father connects to each phone and shuts down our clouds. My turn is next.


    SLEEP-MODE


    Sun 10/02 12:32:07 PDT


    Catching up now after the implant downtime. It¡¯s amazing how much I¡¯ve come to rely on this constant journaling for everything I need to remember. The flight back went a lot better than the flight out. Louise kept her cool. She didn¡¯t even need to retreat to the plane¡¯s bedroom. We all kicked back and watched movies during the day, then passed out in our chairs all night. It was smooth sailing all the way back to the campus. After a shower to get rid of the gross smell of two days in the same clothes, I felt pretty good. Chad and Father went straight to the Research Center to start working on an update for Chad¡¯s cloud, because of course he has to be first to get the new capabilities Father promised us. Marc went right to the cafeteria to tell all the younger sibs about the trip.


    So now I finally have some time to talk with my cabal of conspirators. I scout around the campus with my bot eyes and see the computer lab is empty. That¡¯s as good a place as any, so I lead my siblings there. I leave a couple of eyes in the hallway so I¡¯ll be able to see anyone coming this way. A paranoid part of me wonders if we¡¯re being bugged here, but Jeff seems at ease, and he¡¯s much better at paranoia than I am. If there were any recording equipment in this room, he would have known about it a long time ago.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°So, what are we going to do about Father?¡± I ask once the door is shut.


    ¡°Turn him in to the police?¡± Louise suggests.


    ¡°And what exactly are you going to report him for?¡± Evan replies, settling his massive body into one of the rolling chairs. ¡°Killing people in Somalia? They don¡¯t have jurisdiction. Murdering Noah¡¯s mom? You¡¯ll never prove it. The Butler Treaty laws? He¡¯s the one they call in to investigate those violations. He¡¯s not dumb enough to leave evidence for any of this.¡±


    ¡°In any case, the criminal justice system is not equipped to deal with a man like Father,¡± Jeff adds. ¡°His nanotechnology aside, he has a small army of lawyers in his employ. Even if we could somehow gather sufficient evidence to prove wrongdoing, he would tie any proceedings up in appeals indefinitely. And even if we were to secure a conviction, no one could keep him incarcerated unless he was willing to allow it. They cannot take his cloud away without an invasive surgery that stands a good chance of killing him. If they tried, it would be decades more in the courts. He will continue to have all of his powers for the foreseeable future. If he believes we are threats to him, I think that you can all imagine the regrettable outcomes that would befall each of us.¡±


    Andrea nods and with a dance of fingers materializes a green toy soldier in the air in front of her, then melts it away into a red puddle.


    ¡°Exactly so.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve clearly put a lot of thought into this, Jeff. What would you suggest?¡± I ask.


    Please say kill him. Please.


    ¡°I believe that nothing short of his death would restrain him.¡±


    You¡¯ve never been my favorite brother Jeff, but you¡¯re fighting hard to get into that spot.


    ¡°That seems extreme,¡± Louise says, shaking her head.


    ¡°You have a better idea?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°What if we just keep him from killing anyone else?¡±


    ¡°That seems unlikely.¡± Jeff declares. ¡°He has demonstrated that he is entirely willing to breach any constraints when it suits him. Given his history, it is almost certain he will do it again should a situation arise when he finds it convenient. Besides, his homicides are the least of my concerns. The man is a danger to the existence of all life on earth. His current focus on updating Chad¡¯s cloud rather than addressing the threat from his own indicates that he is certainly not making haste to ameliorate the risk of an emerging artificial sentience. Pending his failure to update his cloud software in the coming days, I do not see another alternative.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t either,¡± says Evan gruffly. ¡°Even if he updates his software, it doesn¡¯t make him any less of a murderer. Or a dirty old man.¡±


    Andrea nods sadly and looks at me pointedly.


    ¡°He killed my mom. Of course I¡¯m in.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re all convinced there¡¯s no other way?¡± Louise asks.


    I nod, as do my brothers.


    ¡°Even you, Andrea?¡±


    Andrea¡¯s fingers begin weaving. A pair of stick figures appear in the air. One points at the other and the second one falls down, releasing a holographic pool of bright red blood. The first one smiles as the fallen one fades. A cage appears around the killer stick figure. He waves one hand and the cage breaks apart. A blindfolded statue appears, a perfect recreation of the famous one with the scales in one hand and the sword in the other, only the scales it holds are fully unbalanced. A question mark pops over the statue¡¯s head. Five new stick figures appear, surrounding the Father figure. They point at him, then hang their heads as the Father image falls with a new pool of red. The scales in the statue¡¯s hand move until they find balance, and the statue¡¯s mouth turns into a sad smile. The whole image fades and Andrea gives Louise a long look.


    ¡°I see your point,¡± Louise says, sighing and shaking her head. ¡±I was hoping to talk you all into something less drastic, but I can see that your minds are made up. I¡¯ll help. But we need to be careful. If Jeff is right, and he¡¯s running a learning AI in his cloud, he can probably stop anything we throw at him. Even if he¡¯s not, he¡¯s had decades of experience with his implant, including with other people trying to kill him. Let¡¯s think this through before we do anything. He¡¯s not going to kill anyone else today.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Jeff declares. ¡°This execution will require precise execution.¡±


    He barks out a weird noise, somewhere between a dog and a seal. It takes me a second to realize that he¡¯s laughing. It goes on for a while. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard him laugh like that before, and I hope I never hear it again. He finally trails off as he catches his breath.


    No one says anything for a while.


    ¡°In the meantime, he¡¯s going to start updating our clouds,¡± Louise says. ¡°Do we just go along with it? I don¡¯t like the idea of the world-eating AI being hooked up to my implant.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what else we can do,¡± answers Evan. ¡°If we balk at it, he¡¯ll know something¡¯s going on. Besides, we don¡¯t know if anything is going to take effect right away. If Jeff¡¯s theory is right, it shouldn¡¯t be a problem unless we grow our clouds huge anyway. The original swarm¡¯s AI was an emergent property that only manifested when it hit a critical mass.¡±


    ¡°Plus," I chime in, ¡°how else can we figure out the limits of what he can do? We¡¯ll never know what they are unless we get full access to the same software load he¡¯s running.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Louise acknowledges. ¡°But let¡¯s defer it until we know Chad comes out all right. If I see him acting differently, I¡¯m not going in. I like my brain the way it is.¡±


    ¡°As do I,¡± says Jeff. ¡°We will observe him closely. Evan is correct. The danger to each of us should not be imminent. Also, I suspect that this update requires a new calibration comparable to that required during the original implantation. We should have ample time to observe the effects on Chad before the next one of us is called in. I suggest we follow Noah¡¯s advice and determine the full capabilities of the upgraded cloud before we commit to any particular plan of action.¡±


    The others all nod grimly. I nod as well.


    I let myself feel a sliver of hope. This could work. At least there¡¯s a chance. Or maybe it will get us all killed. Or turned into robot mind slaves.


    But it could work. I¡¯m not alone anymore.

 Tue 10/04 11:19:24 PDT and Wed 10/19 08:21:04 PDT

    Tue 10/04 11:19:24 PDT


    ¡°Anyone seen Chad yet?¡± Evan asks as he comes into the lab.


    I disconnect my tenth eye and let the wave of nausea recede. The headache lingers but stops getting worse. I might be able to talk if I give myself a few seconds. I got plenty of practice on the trip, but I¡¯d forgotten how painful really pushing myself on the implant can be.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him yet, but Erik said he did,¡± Louise says before I can get my mouth to make words. ¡°Said he saw him in the hospital wing of the Residence this morning.¡±


    Erik. I think I know him. Shorter guy in one of the older classes, or am I thinking of Albert? I really need to get my console database project done, there¡¯s too much junk to remember on my own without it.


    ¡°What was Erik doing in there?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°He broke his finger while he was spotting Phil on the bench press,¡± Louise tells him. ¡°Poor guy had his hand in the wrong place when Phil dropped the bar.¡±


    It¡¯s been a different couple of days for everyone since Chad disappeared into Father¡¯s lab. Phil apparently had to find a new workout buddy, and the rest of us have had the unmitigated pleasure of not dealing with Chad.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Jeff says from his seat in the corner. I glance his way with a spare eye. He doesn¡¯t seem too disappointed that this disproves his latest theory that Father killed Chad and disappeared his body. ¡°Perhaps Father needs to keep him concealed to prevent us from recognizing the alterations in personality that the procedure has induced.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say, the throbbing in my head finally down to where I can talk again. ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s just recovering from surgery.¡±


    Jeff sighs. ¡°I suppose that we don¡¯t have sufficient evidence to predict whether there should be any overt effects at this stage.¡±


    My eye out in the hallway spots Chad coming this way. He¡¯s still got his same old swagger. If the implant update did anything to change his personality, it¡¯s sure not showing in his stride. He¡¯s got a device in his hand that looks like one of the implant appliances, but much bigger. Is that the replacement for the bot phone after the upgrade? I need to look into pants with bigger pockets. Or maybe I¡¯ll just keep it in my satchel and carry that all the time.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± I say just before the sounds of his footfalls reach the computer lab. Louise and Andrea both get up to go look out the door.


    ¡°Well, we knew it couldn¡¯t last,¡± Evan sighs before Chad gets close enough to hear.


    ¡°Hey, welcome back, Chad,¡± Louise says. Good for her for being polite, I guess. I know she didn¡¯t miss Chad any more than the rest of us did.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Chad says as he clears the doorframe. ¡°I know you were probably all worried about me. Well, you don¡¯t need to worry anymore. Thanks to Father¡¯s brilliance, I¡¯m back and better than ever.¡±


    Yeah. No personality changes there. Still the same old arrogant, sycophantic Chad.


    ¡°The upgrade is amazing,¡± he continues. ¡±You can¡¯t begin to imagine how much better the controls are.¡± He glances at a chair and it slides his way, circling around behind him and swiveling to accommodate him exactly as he sits down. That¡¯s new. He¡¯s never had that kind of fine control without a lot of careful gesturing. ¡°It was a little overwhelming at first, but I guess you¡¯ll all see for yourselves soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, guess we will. Come on, Noah,¡± Evan says. ¡°Let¡¯s get lunch.¡±


    I let my ninth eye dissolve and get up without even needing to steady myself on the table before I follow him. My balance is good even with eight still running. I give Chad a nod on my way out that he returns without even glaring at me. Maybe he¡¯s in a good mood. Or maybe we¡¯re really not hating each other anymore.


    ¡°So, what do you think?¡± Evan asks as we get out of earshot. ¡°Robot mind-slave?¡±


    ¡°No, just chief cultist in the sect of the pater familias.¡±


    He nods agreement and we make our way to lunch. The food here is so much more bland after our time in Africa. I eat about three bites before I lose interest, but I like hanging out with Evan so I stick around. He¡¯s reaching for my uneaten pudding when we hear the commotion from out on the commons. I send out a pair of eyes to see what¡¯s going on.


    It¡¯s Chad, of course.


    He¡¯s got a few hundred glowing balls juggling through the air, changing colors as they spin and morph from spheres to cubes to flattened oblongs and back again. Whatever the new controls involve, it¡¯s not just writing code to get the bots to do what you want. Chad couldn¡¯t program anything this complex if his life depended on it. He¡¯s got his movie-star grin on his too-handsome face as he shows off to a growing crew of younger siblings. I swear his standard holier-than-thou attitude has transfigured itself into a full-on god complex.


    ¡°Anything I need to worry about out there?¡± Evan asks. He knows me well enough to recognize the vacant look on my face that I get when I¡¯m paying more attention to my robotic eyes than my physical ones.


    ¡°Just Chad being Chad,¡± I say. ¡°Only more so. The new controls must be pretty good, though.¡±


    He nods and takes another bite of my pudding. Outside, I see Marc practically prostrating himself before the almighty super-Chad. Chad gives him a magnanimous smile and says something I can¡¯t hear but must have been nice because Marc beams. Chad being nice to Marc? Maybe he is a robot mind-slave, but if the swarm AI is twisting him this direction maybe it¡¯s not all bad. Or maybe Chad finally filled that hole in his soul with a glut of Father¡¯s attention and a massive jolt of pure power.


    Jeff catches my eye from his table in the corner. He looks worried. I turn on my bot detection overlay and see a couple of his eyes floating outside. He¡¯s seeing what I¡¯m seeing. I think he¡¯s holding tight to his theory. At least he¡¯s eating with his hands and utensils instead of streaming pre-chewed food with his bots. The trip was good for him.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I say to Evan. ¡°Let¡¯s go see the Chad show. You know he¡¯s not going to be happy unless we all watch at least one episode.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± he grumbles, ¡°but then we go play some foosball.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but just a game or two. I¡¯ve got a lot of homework.¡±


    I don¡¯t really, since my text capture system and new math solver are saving me a ton of time in both teachers¡¯ classes. But I want time to work on my database. Even if Father¡¯s upgrade does wonders for your bot control, I doubt it does any of what I¡¯m planning. With any luck, in a week or two I¡¯ll be rocking a working memory support system that should make it so I don¡¯t have to manually look things up in my log anymore.


    Outside, Chad stoops down in the center of a ring of nursery kids gathered around him on the field, whispering something to them. We get to the cafeteria doors just in time to see him spread his arms wide and start slowly rising into the air. Hanging there he looks like a frat boy on a crucifix, minus the cross. I do a quick calculation in my solver to figure out how many bots he¡¯d need to lift himself like that, and it¡¯s a bigger cloud than he¡¯s ever run before, even on our trip. The new software must have a better version of something like Jeff¡¯s cloud size optimizations. Or Jeff is right about Father running AI on the bots. Either one.


    I can¡¯t deny that the idea of floating is kind of cool. I¡¯ve never seen Father do tricks like that, but he¡¯s always been more about substance than style. I wonder if we¡¯ll be able to fly with the new stuff. If Jeff ever gets that going, he¡¯d probably never walk again. Too bad. I think all the exercise on the trip has been good for him. His long, sticklike legs almost have a little muscle on them now.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see when you get yours,¡± Chad tells Marc with a smug grin. ¡°I don¡¯t want to spoil it for you. It¡¯s awesome though. Everything is so much easier. And so much more powerful. I feel like I can do anything. I¡¯ll try flying for real later today. You guys can come watch me. It¡¯s so godlike, I love it.¡±


    Well, that answers that. I¡¯ll keep an eye or two out here while I code this afternoon, just in case he does something funny like crashing and breaking his neck. For anyone else, I¡¯d be tempted to assume that a rogue AI had gone to his head. But Chad¡¯s always been a megalomaniac narcissist, so this is actually about what I¡¯d expect from him.


    Marc is hanging on every word, not even talking much. It¡¯s like he¡¯s included Chad in his personal pantheon now along with Father. I¡¯m watching them closely enough that even with my two fleshy eyes and eight robotic ones, I don¡¯t notice Jeff silently gliding up next to me until he¡¯s there.


    ¡°Definitely AI,¡± he whispers to me. ¡°I¡¯m sure of it. We will need to act as soon as we are able.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I whisper back.


    ¡°It is anything but all right, Noah.¡± I turn and see that his face is full of genuine, intense fear. ¡°It is all wrong, all wrong.¡±


    All wrong unless you really want your siblings to help you get revenge for your mother¡¯s death, then it¡¯s going pretty well.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Wed 10/19 08:21:04 PDT


    A thumping beat resonates through the ground as I open the dorm doors and head outside. Chad is out on the grass near Andrea as she dances around the center of the commons. A pair of three-foot-wide boulders bounce up and down against the sidewalk, accompanying the music she plays with her cloud. I don¡¯t need to turn on the overlay to know they¡¯re Chad¡¯s work. I¡¯d be worried about a personality shift with how nice he¡¯s being to Andrea, but I think he¡¯s just looking for another excuse to show off. He shouts at some of the younger kids on their way to the cafeteria to watch out, making sure they know the massive balls are his. I think there¡¯s some symbolism there.


    He¡¯s definitely been loving his two weeks as the one and only super-sib. As Jeff predicted, he¡¯s been in the lab with Father for a couple of hours every day for calibrations to fine-tune his upgraded capabilities. With every visit, he comes out with more powers that he goes out of his way to show off.


    One of the younger girls whose name I can¡¯t remember runs up to him and says something I can¡¯t hear. He smiles a magnanimous smile that I swear he pulled right from Father¡¯s face and puts out a hand to project a small image of her face into the air. She claps her hands in delight and runs off to tell her classmates. Looks like his latest upgrade lets him put together detailed holograms of anything he¡¯s seen with no apparent effort. The picture fading from the air isn¡¯t artistic like Andrea¡¯s projections, just a photo with modest resolution. Still, I won¡¯t mind being able to do that too when Father finally gets around to doing my implant upgrade.


    I make it to the cafeteria and settle in next to Evan at our usual table. He¡¯s already almost done with his waffles and starting on his hash browns. The pervasive bass beat finally stops as I pour the syrup. Evan tilts his head toward the windows facing the commons and squints.


    ¡°What¡¯s Mega-Chad doing out there now?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I think he¡¯s starting to build something,¡± I reply, turning on my overlay and looking around outside with several eyes. Streams of Chad¡¯s bots are heading over the wall and into the desert and coming back weighted down with tiny payloads. ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s printing something right in the middle of the field. Can¡¯t tell what yet, but it¡¯s going to be big. He just wrecked a ton of grass putting down a foundation for it. You should make an eye and look for yourself.¡±


    ¡°You know I hate running extra eyes,¡± Evan protests. ¡°Especially when I¡¯m eating.¡±


    ¡°Then finish up and go look at it.¡±


    He crams the last of his breakfast into his mouth and gets up. As he heads toward the door, I see what looks like a huge pair of stone feet rising out of nothing on the broad pedestal that used to be the lawn. I eat my bacon and a quarter of my waffle, then follow Evan out. Some things are worth seeing with biological eyes.


    Chad stands in front of his growing creation, slowly moving his hands and darting his head between looking at the giant faux-stone figure and glancing out to where he¡¯s harvesting the materials for it from outside the campus gates. It¡¯s only built up to its waist and it¡¯s already a good fifteen feet tall.


    ¡°Bet you tonight¡¯s dessert that it¡¯s a statue of himself,¡± Evan says.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that money,¡± I respond. ¡°That¡¯s supposed to be Father. Chad would have made the legs look way thicker if he were doing himself.¡±


    The creation stays ambiguous as the torso and arms slowly form. Whoever it¡¯s supposed to be is wearing what looks like the start of a suit and tie, but that could be either of them. Guess we¡¯ll find out for sure when he starts building the head. The thing is a good thirty feet tall at the shoulder, once the head is on there it might get as tall as the Residence roof.


    ¡°It¡¯s definitely himself,¡± Evan says. ¡°Look how broad those shoulders are.¡±


    ¡°Could be he¡¯s just trying to make Father look more manly. Artistic license, maybe.¡±


    The bots working on the build stop suddenly and drop to the ground. After a second they stop registering in my overlay, meaning they¡¯ve been fully deactivated. I turn my body¡¯s eyes toward the Residence doors as I see Father emerge out onto the steps.


    ¡°Not appropriate, Chad.¡± His stern voice booms across the field. He waves a hand and bots that I can¡¯t see on my overlay disintegrate the figure in moments, returning the component minerals to a pile outside the campus walls.


    ¡°But Father, I was just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Self-aggrandizement has no place in what we are doing here,¡± Father snaps, his voice cold. ¡°Perhaps you are not ready for what you have been given.¡±


    Chad looks mortified, all of his arrogance evaporated in an instant. ¡°No, Father! Please! I¡¯m sorry. It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Father regards him for a long moment, then sighs. ¡°See that it doesn¡¯t.¡±


    Chad nods somberly. ¡°Yes, Father. I¡¯ll find better ways to practice.¡±


    ¡°Meet me in my lab in an hour,¡± Father says. ¡°We¡¯ll need to get you a new starter cloud. After that, I expect you to sit on the Residence steps and cannibalize every last bot husk left on the grass and out there on the desert soil. That should provide you an excellent opportunity to both work on your long range scanning and think about what you¡¯ve done. When you are done with that you¡¯ll take up a shovel and help the gardeners replant the lawn. By hand.¡±


    I wait until Chad slinks back to the dorms in shame before I turn to Evan. ¡°It was totally going to be Father.¡±


    ¡°Guess we¡¯ll never know.¡±


    ¡°I think Noah¡¯s right,¡± Louise says from behind us. ¡°What were the stakes on the bet? Dessert?¡±


    Where did she come from? My fault for sending all my eyes out looking at Chad¡¯s handiwork instead of watching behind me. I didn¡¯t even notice her there.


    ¡°Morning, Louise. You know us too well. Hey, do you have a few minutes before class? I wanted to pick your brain on something. You too, Evan.¡±


    She nods and we head to the Learning Center, stopping in my still-empty classroom. ¡°Looks like a frontal assault with nanobots isn¡¯t an option.¡± I say quietly. ¡°Did you see how he shut Chad¡¯s whole cloud down? And how his bots didn¡¯t show up in the overlay?¡±


    Evan nods. ¡°That makes things a lot harder. Just having the upgraded clouds and outnumbering him won¡¯t do it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Louise agrees. ¡°I couldn¡¯t see his bots either when he was taking down the statue. Even if we can figure out how to keep him from shutting our clouds down, we¡¯d be defenseless against his. He must have some super-administrator mode that lets him do all of that. We¡¯ll need to figure that out before we can do anything.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell Jeff and Andrea,¡± Evan volunteers. ¡°I didn¡¯t see either of them there this morning when it happened.¡±


    He hurries off, leaving Louise and me alone.


    ¡°Hey, before you go,¡± I say, ¡°you still owe me that hack to get admin access on the implant console. Is it something you can teach me now, or do we need to find some time later?¡± I ask her.


    Her eyes dart to one side as she checks a clock that I can¡¯t see. ¡°I think we have time.¡±


    It only takes her about ten minutes to walk me through the hack. It turns out the trick is really similar to a Linux privilege escalation technique I¡¯ve used before. I¡¯m not sure why I didn¡¯t think to try it. Probably because on Linux the exploit was patched a couple of years ago. I guess whoever maintains the SynTech OS doesn¡¯t catch all the security issues.


    ¡°You got it working?¡± she asks.


    I check my permissions. Root access on everything. ¡°Yeah. Thanks. This will come in handy for a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± she agrees. ¡°Anyway, time to get to class. I think I see your teacher coming.¡±


    She heads out just in time for my eyes in the hallway to spot Mrs. Jones as she rounds the corner. Time to see how well my new database triggers work. My whole homework effort last night was spending two minutes to scan the text of Plato¡¯s Republic with my bot eyes and another thirty seconds to screen scrape some commentary on it from the internet. If I can fake my way through Mrs. Jones with that level of effort, I¡¯m golden.


    ¡°Good morning, Noah,¡± she greets me as she comes through the door.


    ¡°Hey, Mrs. Jones. Do you think justice is an intrinsic end in its own right?¡± I ask, pulling the question from the copied study guide in my electronic memory, ¡°or is it more of a means for creating a stable and healthy society?¡±


    She gives me her pleased smile. ¡°I see you¡¯ve really dived into the material. I¡¯ll give you my personal views on it once we¡¯ve discussed the text. Let¡¯s start with Glaucon¡¯s appeal to the Ring of Gyges and its implications on the concept of justice.¡±


    And with each significant word that she utters and that my now-automatic bioelectric system captures into my console, the database pops panels into my overlay with snippets of text from both the book and the commentary. I breeze through class with half my attention on the discussion and she doesn¡¯t seem to notice a thing. The other half of my brain starts digging into the parts of the implant software that Louise¡¯s trick just unlocked for me.


    The source is all there. It seems like the SynTech programming language is interpreted rather than compiled, so I should be able to update any of the code right on the device and it should run with the changes.


    I start poking around in the construction routines that we got this summer, tuning out Mrs. Jones¡¯ lecture except for the minimal attention it takes to capture her words into my logs. There¡¯s a lot of code here, but it¡¯s so well-organized and cleanly documented that it¡¯s easy to follow how it works. Nothing groundbreaking here, and also no nefarious hooks linking out to mysterious functions that the bots would use to do anything smart on their own. That¡¯s about what I expected, but it¡¯s good to know we weren¡¯t getting subtly hooked into the swarm mind without knowing it.


    As I dig deeper, I¡¯m surprised by the sheer volume of code. Father must have a huge team of programmers somewhere doing development for this stuff. I wonder for a moment¡ªbetween stolen explanations of Plato¡¯s philosophy¡ªif other people have implants for testing this stuff. No, they must just code to simulators like we do in the computer lab. That¡¯s the only thing that makes sense given Father¡¯s reluctance to share the implant technology outside the family.


    Why did he close up the code for the construction libraries so only administrative access could unlock it? I only wonder about it for a second before I remember Marc¡¯s adventures in coding the first time I met him, when he nearly whacked Chad in the face with his bots. Yeah, that¡¯s probably why. That kid should barely have privileges to run library functions like this, much less be able to edit or copy them. And Andrea could have gotten herself killed with her shield peephole if a stray bullet had gone just wrong, and she actually knows what she¡¯s doing.


    Yeah, that all makes sense now. Mrs. Jones packs up her briefcase and leaves as Mr. Johnson arrives, and I find that my new database works just as well for faking my way through a biology class as it does for literature. As he lectures on specific electrochemical interactions that let nerves and muscles work together, I put together a more practical application of the principles. I set up a trigger emulating a blend of dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin, something like what Louise has been using.


    DOPE-ME


    The instant I trigger the function, I immediately feel better. Focused. Clear. And just good. I can see how Louise could get addicted to this. I should save it for special occasions when I actually need it. Better not head down the road of recreational use if I don¡¯t have to. I have plenty of other problems in life without an addiction complicating things.


    Before I even realize class is over, Mr. Johnson is wrapping up his lesson, giving me a wholly unearned congratulations on my work with him today. My new cheating software is working better than I hoped. If he and Mrs. Jones can¡¯t tell what I¡¯m coming up with on my own and what I¡¯m pulling from my electronic memory, my implant database is a complete success so far.


    All that¡¯s left now is to cover my tracks. As I head to the computer lab, I reverse the exploit that Louise taught me. Everything should look normal for when I go in with Father tomorrow for my upgrade.

 Thu 10/20 08:00:01 PDT and Thu 10/20 17:23:16 PDT

    Thu 10/20 08:00:01 PDT


    Father is already in the Research Center when I arrive.


    ¡°Good morning, Noah,¡± he greets me with his crooked smile. ¡°Please, get comfortable. This shouldn¡¯t take too long. Your implant is already current at the latest version and fully calibrated, so we just need to pair it to your new processing hardware and remove the limiters. Then we¡¯ll make sure that you can access your cloud. We should have you functional by the end of the day.¡±


    ¡°Really? Chad was in and out of here for the last couple of weeks.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Father says, pulling out a paperback book sized device like the one Chad¡¯s been carrying around. ¡°He had been running the second generation of the implant hardware. It¡¯s similar to the first generation that I¡¯m still running. Custom built high grade medical technology, but not nanotech. His new one is the same as yours, and uses an entirely new technique that I¡¯ve pioneered. Much safer and more reliable, and tremendously easier to install. The brain is permeated with its own cloud of customized medical nanobots, much smaller than the standard worker bots and made from a corrosion-proof alloy developed especially for long-term implants. They are powered by the ambient heat you produce. You could live to be a thousand years old and never have issues with them.¡±


    ¡°But my calibration didn¡¯t take two weeks either,¡± I protest. ¡°We knocked it all out in a few days.¡±


    Father gives me one of his proud looks.


    ¡°I try not to compare my children to each other, Noah, but you seem to be truly gifted. If you had been working with the previous generation of the implant hardware with its fewer connections, I believe that you would have been in and out in a matter of hours. Your brain is exceptionally responsive and adaptable, while Chad¡¯s is more typical.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say, not sure how to respond. He doesn¡¯t seem to notice, as his attention is absorbed with getting the new oversized phone ready for me. He¡¯s got it hooked up to his server rack with a thick cable. As one of the screens on his desk shows what looks like a boot sequence, he turns his attention back to me.


    ¡°Did you have any more questions before we proceed?¡±


    ¡°What happens to my old setup? Can I keep the projects I¡¯ve been working on there? And my journals?¡±


    ¡°Oh, my consummate journal keeper!¡± he says with a smile. ¡°Of course you may. All the data from the old phone will transfer over, though it will only occupy a tiny fraction of the hardware resources the new appliance provides. The encryption on your journals will still be based on the same biometrics, so you should be able to access them seamlessly once the changeover is complete. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ll have much use for the old software, with the new controls you¡¯ll have access to. You won¡¯t miss it though. The new system will take care of everything. You won¡¯t need to write much code yourself anymore, unless you¡¯re developing something truly new, like the research project you¡¯ve been working on.¡±


    ¡°But all the work we did¡ª¡± I start, then stop myself. ¡°Why did you have us create all those control systems, if we¡¯re not going to use them?¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± he says, his mouth twisting into an amused smirk. ¡°You worked hard, as did your siblings. But the time has come to put away your toys and pick up some real tools.¡±


    He looks at me for a moment and takes a seat, gesturing for me to take the rolling stool next to it.


    ¡°Noah, let me tell you a story. A short one this time.¡± He pauses for a moment as I sit down. ¡°When I was a young man, my friends and I built go-karts one summer. Simple motorless cars that we would push up to the top of a hill and race down. We each had different control schemes. One of my friends steered just by leaning his weight to one side or the other, another had a pair of ropes that he would pull to change the direction of the wheels. I was more ambitious and built a complex mechanism using an old steering wheel I salvaged from the junkyard. It was a wonderful way to pass the summer days, and an invigorating intellectual exercise. But for all the value that doing the work provided my friends and me, it would have been foolish to carry that kind of diversity into the following years when we started driving real cars. A standardized control scheme, carefully developed and fully tested, was required once we were moving tons of steel at freeway speeds.¡±


    ¡°I think I understand.¡±


    ¡°Good. This upgrade will be a tremendous improvement for you.¡± He gives me his most reassuring smile. ¡°You won¡¯t miss using the code you have written once you get a feel for the new controls.¡±


    I nod. Go-karts. I''ve been hoarding the secrets of the other kids'' go-karts when there''s been a high-end sports car waiting here for me all along. I am an idiot.


    ¡°Any more questions?¡± he asks, picking up the second cable and reaching out a hand. ¡°Or should we begin the transfer?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m good,¡± I say, handing him my old phone.


    ¡°Excellent. Go ahead and put your implant in sleep mode while I get you connected, and we¡¯ll get started.¡±


    Thu 10/20 17:23:16 PDT


    Mom used to take me to church with Grammy and Gramps sometimes, usually just on Easter, but a couple of other times too. I remember the priest or bishop or whatever they called him talking about God. This guy in the sky with all the power in the universe, who could see every person on earth at once and do anything just by wanting it. A being who could move mountains, split seas, and build worlds.


    This has to be something like that, but I don¡¯t think God ever got the mind-ripping headache that goes with my new cosmic powers.


    I play with the options as I wait for the throbbing to subside before I give the controls another try. The upgraded overlay floods my mind with images and information. The console and bot controls are just the beginning. A hundred more displays hang within easy mental reach, covering everything from the chemical makeup of the air around me, to the mass of every object I can see, to the distance between me and anything that my bots can detect.


    I gasp like I¡¯m literally drowning in data. Mom¡¯s reassuring voice comes back to me. Breathe, Noah. Calm. Breathe.


    The pain will subside. I know it will. Focus on something simple. I turn my attention to the air monitoring overlay and watch the numbers for how much nitrogen and oxygen I¡¯m taking in and the small increase in carbon dioxide near my face every time I exhale.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Breathe.


    I can see everything. I see whatever I¡¯m looking at, and I see around and past it. I look at the chair next to the bed and simultaneously see the front, back, sides, top and bottom of it. I know its volume down to the cubic millimeter.


    I check the diagnostic view of my brain. There¡¯s no tissue damage. It¡¯s just pain. I can push through pain. The blood flow is elevated all over. Almost every part of every lobe. But none of the blood vessels are in danger of bursting. It¡¯s just my gray matter adjusting itself to the new inputs. Another deep breath, hold, exhale.


    I¡¯m ready to try again. The old interface felt like an extra piece of skin. This one feels like a whole new body, complete with a new set of muscles that I¡¯m slowly learning to flex. I extend my consciousness, guiding the bots with nothing but thought. I feel the surface of the desk chair, where hundreds of them are making contact with it. I grab onto that sensation, and exert the tiniest mental pressure upwards. My floating army rushes to obey, and it lifts smoothly from the ground, supported at thousands of points by tiny clusters of bots. I release it and it lands back on the ground with a thud.


    I reach out to my desk and pick up my tablet. Of course not with my hands. Why would I use hands? The tablet floats above the desk and on an unconscious whim I didn¡¯t realize I had, it begins rotating. Another push, and it¡¯s spinning on two axes at once, frantically flipping. And then it¡¯s still, and then it¡¯s gently putting itself back on the desk.


    That wasn¡¯t so bad. The headache is getting better. Or maybe I¡¯m just getting used to it. Either way, I can do this.


    I reach along my physical frame, feeling the contours of my body from outside of myself. I feel the outline of my shape from underneath where my bots have found their way under me without me even realizing that I told them to do that. I give a mental push upwards against my own flesh. It feels like I¡¯m being lifted by a soft foam mattress that cradles every inch of my body. I open my eyes and glance down, seeing the pillow forty centimeters below me. What is that, a foot and change? Why did I think that in metric? Of course. Stupid. The overlays are showing distances that way.


    I lift and twist myself up and onto my feet without moving a muscle. I¡¯m tempted for a second to float around, but I think of Jeff and decide to walk. I take a hesitant step, transitioning back to normal motor controls. My legs and feet feel almost alien to me for a moment until my mind remembers how to drive them. Once I¡¯m sure my coordination is back to normal, I pull my satchel over one shoulder and drop the new appliance inside.


    Out in the common room, Andrea and Marc are watching a show on one of the screens with half a dozen of the younger kids. I have an awkward moment as my new cloud quietly and automatically surrounds everything and gives me a panoptic view. I didn¡¯t want to see inside the gap between Marc¡¯s t-shirt and armpit, or be made so intensely aware of the exact curves of Andrea¡¯s body. With the lightest pull around the feel of their figures, my bots pull back several centimeters, reducing my overfamiliar awareness of them and the sense of nausea that had started welling up in my stomach. The software responds better than I¡¯d hoped. As if by magic, everyone else immediately gets a similar buffer of space around them.


    Smart design there.


    Part of me keeps expecting it to turn out that Jeff¡¯s right. A voice should start booming in my head from the AI or something. But it¡¯s not anything like that. It¡¯s stuff like this, the little clever things that seem to anticipate everything I want to do. I don¡¯t know where the software ends and where my brain begins. I guess that¡¯s kind of the point. It makes the interface to the new cloud so much easier. No more manually binding functions to specific motions. Just clean, simple, intuitive controls that make the cloud seem like a natural part of me.


    ¡°How is it, man?¡± Marc asks excitedly as he sees me.


    ¡°It¡¯s different,¡± I tell him, trying not to let the pain of the lingering headache contort my face. ¡°Easier. Better.¡±


    Andrea gives me a concerned look.


    ¡°But it¡¯s like having a new set of arms where each one has a hundred hands. I feel so clumsy with it. It¡¯ll take some getting used to. It¡¯s not like it has a mind of its own.¡± That should put Andrea at ease until I can get with her and the others privately. No point letting her worry now.


    ¡°Do some tricks!¡± one of the younger kids cries out. I know his name. Wait, I thought I knew his name. He¡¯s one of the little ones that moved into the dorms from the nursery last month. Or maybe the month before. ¡°Please! Pretty please!¡±


    I can¡¯t think of his name. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll come to me later. Doesn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I say, ¡°but only because you asked nicely.¡±


    I float myself up to the high ceiling and mock a backstroke, spiraling back down to the ground at a leisurely pace as if I were swimming through the air. Chad already claimed the thunder from being the first to use the flight routines, but I get a lot of laughs from the kids in the room for my performance anyway. I tighten my awareness back around the one who¡¯s name I can¡¯t remember and lift him gently into the air. He squeals with delight and the others laugh. I¡¯m tempted to spin him upside down like Gramps used to do with me when I was little, but I decide to take it easy and set him back down without any aerobatics. The last thing I want right now is to accidentally hurt anyone.


    ¡°Good enough?¡±


    The kid nods vigorously as Marc looks at me with adoring eyes. Oh boy, I gotta get myself off that pedestal fast.


    ¡°Are you excited to get yours, Marc?¡± I ask him.


    ¡°Oh yeah! I¡¯m going to do so much awesome stuff. I¡¯ve got it all figured out. I¡¯m going to make a super suit like Purple Thunder and go fight crime and¡­¡±


    He keeps going, but I tune out. Yeah, maybe he shouldn¡¯t get the upgrade just yet. Not that I have any say in it, but I¡¯m guessing he¡¯s pretty far down the docket. Father mentioned something about getting Andrea done next, so we have at least a couple of weeks before I need to worry about Marc creating an alter ego to run off and do stupid things.


    He¡¯s stopped talking.


    ¡°Awesome, Marc,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sure that will be great.¡±


    Before I can say more, the bell sounds. Afternoon classes just ended. I hear the stampede sound just before someone opens the doors letting in a flood of evening sun. Dozens of my siblings rush through, streaming for their rooms. For a second my senses are overwhelmed as my interface updates me on the sudden changes in lighting, air pressure, ambient sound, and the positions of way too many small, fast-moving bodies. The headache resurges and I grit my teeth to keep from showing the pain on my face.


    Even with having run my vision in full panorama since we got back from Africa, I¡¯m not anywhere close to prepared for this level of sensory overload. I slam down the feedback to the lowest levels, but it¡¯s still too much. The room spins and I excuse myself as politely as I can.


    I keep my steps steady by pure force of will as I head back to my room. Only once I shut the door behind me do I let myself stumble and fall. I lay on the floor and contemplate my room¡¯s spartan furnishings for a while until the pain gets back to a level that I can tolerate. I think for a moment about getting dinner, since I skipped lunch, but another wave of nausea makes me forget that thought almost as soon as it enters my mind. It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll eat tomorrow.


    I close my eyes and pick myself up again, letting my body float over the bed. The sensation is surprisingly comfortable. The pain recedes with more breathing, so I turn the implant displays back on. I need to get better with this. The deeper connection and feedback that the new implant hardware provides is the only advantage my cloud has over Father¡¯s.


    Maybe I just need to start small. Work on my fine motor skills first.


    From my bed, I carefully rearrange my toiletries in the bathroom, then sweep the dust from the far corners of the closet. I pull a shirt from its hanger, fumble with trying to get it buttoned up as it floats in the air. I get halfway through before I have to give up as the headache gets too bad to handle again. I sit up and unbutton it with my biological fingers, then walk over and hang it back on its hanger. I need more simple stuff in my room to play with. Maybe I can borrow some wooden blocks from the nursery to practice stacking.


    I check my diagnostics again to make sure that I didn¡¯t damage any brain tissue. It¡¯s all fine, just very active. It¡¯s going to get better. It¡¯s already better than it was just a couple of hours ago. I just need practice. Lots of practice.

 Sat 10/22 12:42:07 PDT and Tue 10/25 18:06:44 PDT

    Sat 10/22 12:42:07 PDT


    I am a straight-up wizard.


    Back when I used to have time for video games, I always liked the ones where I could play some kind of magic user. Something about the notion of spewing fire from my fingertips or freezing monsters with a word appealed to me. Maybe it¡¯s because I¡¯ve always felt underpowered physically. I was never very coordinated, and I sucked at most sports. I¡¯ve always felt like my mind was the strongest part of me, and now Father¡¯s gifts have made that true in every sense.


    I can cast any spell in the book now. Want to heat things up? Just discharge the battery from a few thousand bots and I¡¯ve got a white hot spark ready to ignite anything. Want to cast an ice spell on an object? Glom a million bots on it and have them pull as much ambient heat as they can, and you¡¯ve got yourself a popsicle in an hour or so. My telekinesis is only limited by how many bots I have to throw at something. Given a big enough cloud, I could lift almost anything, and I haven¡¯t even started pushing my limits on how much I can grow.


    And then there¡¯s the construction features. The full library is huge. I can print just about anything I can imagine. I haven¡¯t come up with anything so far that didn¡¯t have a blueprint in the software. Even if I did, I can add new build templates just by feeling something out. All that¡¯s left after that is issuing a command to clone it and choosing a materials palette.


    It¡¯s getting better every day. Not just in the sense of being able to do more, although that¡¯s definitely true, but coping with the deluge of input that constantly batters my brain. I haven¡¯t passed out from the pain at all today, and I¡¯ve been pushing hard. Seeing in and around and through things feels almost natural.


    DIAGNOSTIC MODE


    Still no hemorrhaging. Just a healthy, nanobot-infested brain.


    But I can¡¯t help worrying about the extensive remodeling since I got the update. Big chunks of my cortex are showing completely different activity patterns than they did before I went into Father¡¯s lab three days ago. I¡¯m probably losing something, but I don¡¯t really care what. Whatever it is, it¡¯s worth it.


    I see Chad walking across the commons to the Research Center for another follow-up visit with Father. Once he passes, I get up from where I¡¯ve been lurking on the Residence steps. Time to get my conspiracy club together for a quick meeting. I just need to distract Marc to make sure he doesn¡¯t crash it.


    The little guy who was asking for tricks the other day is out playing on the grass with a couple of others from his class. I still can¡¯t remember his name, which bugs me. I always remember names. It¡¯s


    something I¡¯m really good at.


    Doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯ll come to me in a minute. Anyway, he¡¯s the perfect distraction.


    ¡°Hey, buddy,¡± I say, walking towards him.


    ¡°Hey, Noah,¡± he says. ¡°Can you do more tricks today?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t right now,¡± I tell him. ¡°But I heard that Marc really wants to talk about our Africa trip today. You should ask him about Djibouti.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t ask him about his booty!¡± he laughs.


    ¡°Jee-boo-tee,¡± I enunciated slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a country. We went there, Me and Marc and Father and the rest of the old kids. Remember?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah. I know about that.¡±


    ¡°Good. Go ask Marc about what we did there. He¡¯s got the best stories.¡±


    ¡°Yeah he does!¡± he exclaims, running off.


    Mission accomplished. That should hold him for hours. I head to the computer lab while sending out my bot senses across the campus. It¡¯s amazing how much I can see and feel all at once. I find Jeff in his room, Evan and Louise in the rec room, and Andrea sitting under a tree behind the Residence sketching on her notepad. With the barest thought, I form little nanobot speakers near each of them. A mic connected to the speakers forms almost instinctively near my mouth.


    ¡°Come to the computer lab,¡± I whisper to all of them at once, just loud enough for only them to hear it.


    I feel each of them stop what they were doing once they realize it was me talking to them. They all start moving toward the Learning Center. A wave of nausea and dizziness crashes down and I have to catch myself against the hallway wall before I fall. Shit. I pushed myself too hard again. I see and feel too much. I pull my bots back into a tight sphere around me, but it¡¯s too late, the headache is throbbing again. Every heartbeat is an agonizing pulse of lava through my brain. I stumble through the computer lab door and get myself into a seat before my balance gives out again. I sit there in the lab with the lights off and put my head down while I wait for the attack to subside.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe.


    I turn the inputs from the cloud all the way down and get a moment of sweet relief. Another quick check on the diagnostics to make sure I¡¯m not having a stroke. No, I¡¯m still good, no tissue damage.


    ¡°Are you OK, Noah?¡± asks Louise. I hadn¡¯t heard her come in. I feel blind now when I don¡¯t have my cloud out there sensing for me.


    I look up and see Andrea echo the question with a concerned look.


    DOPE-ME


    It works well and it works fast as the jolt to my chemical receptors does its thing.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good,¡± I reassure them, sitting up. ¡°Whatever is in the update isn¡¯t doing any harm. I get some little headaches, but not any worse than when I worked hard with the old version of the cloud.¡±


    It¡¯s only a little lie. And it¡¯s not even what they¡¯re worried about. The headaches are just from overworking my gray matter, not from an AI takeover.


    ¡°You probably have not reached the critical mass required to awaken the sentience of the artificial intelligence for your cloud,¡± Jeff suggests as he comes into the lab. ¡°Please make certain to keep your nanobot count down to a safe level. The last thing we need is one more risk to the earth.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I lie. At this point, I¡¯m sure that Jeff¡¯s theory is garbage, but he¡¯s all in on it and it¡¯s keeping him where I need him to be, so I keep playing along.


    ¡°So, have you been able to discern what defensive systems we need to worry about?¡± he asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell,¡± I reply. ¡°Father¡¯s still running the older version of the implant hardware, so his situational awareness probably isn¡¯t where mine is with the third generation implant. But then again, he¡¯s got decades of experience with it. If he were running the same rig that he put into me, there¡¯s no way we could surprise him with anything. But even using the old implant hardware, I¡¯m pretty sure that he¡¯ll get plenty of warning if there¡¯s anything dangerous around him. A lot of the defensive stuff works like the sentry routine we used on the trip, but it¡¯s on all the time in the background. It has automatic recognition for anything that matches a virtual arsenal of dangerous things. He¡¯d know if there was a weapon anywhere near him.¡±


    ¡°Well that certainly limits our options,¡± Louise says with a frown. ¡°Not that we even have guns or anything,¡±


    ¡°I could print one,¡± I tell her. ¡°The new build library has a bunch of models. And ammo too. But I don¡¯t think it would help. He¡¯d definitely see that coming. There are triggers built in to watch for stuff like that. I get warning prickles all the time for anything remotely unsafe. One of the kids at the table next to mine dropped a butter knife this morning at breakfast and my implant called my attention right to it. Anything potentially dangerous, anything moving fast, the bots are all over watching for that.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Andrea gestures and forms a stick figure laying sideways with a stream of little Z¡¯s popping up from its head.


    ¡°No good,¡± I answer, shaking my head. ¡°The cloud runs twenty-four seven. It¡¯s got a special mode that it goes into when you go to sleep that would wake him if anything unexpected happened, like us sneaking into his room.¡±


    ¡°Can we simply overwhelm him with our bots?¡± Jeff asks. ¡°If we all get the update and grow to our maximum safe capacity, we should have sufficient numbers to outmatch his cloud by a large margin, should we not?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s no good either,¡± I respond, feeling like a downer. ¡°Remember when Chad was building his statue? Father has some kind of override that shut down Chad¡¯s cloud. I¡¯m sure he can do that for all of ours. I think he trusts us, but he¡¯s not going to leave himself without a way to stop us if he needs to. Besides, he¡¯s fought using his cloud before. He¡¯s killed with them. Even if we outnumber him, experience matters.¡±


    The room goes quiet.


    ¡°We could wait for the next trip,¡± Evan says. ¡°Hit him when he commits his whole cloud to some build like he did building that big desalination plant.¡±


    I feel a twinge of regret for the missed opportunity in Djibouti. Of course, now that I have a better idea of what the cloud provides defensively, I realize that was probably wishful thinking on my part. He could easily have done what he did without committing all of his nanobots. The construction library in the upgraded version lets you pick how much of your cloud you want to allocate to a job.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s going back out,¡± Louise answers glumly. ¡°I was talking to him about it the other day. I think we¡¯re going out without him on the next round of missions.¡±


    ¡°Even if he did go out again,¡± I add, ¡°there¡¯s no reason to think that he would do the heavy lifting next time.¡±


    ¡°So what can we do?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m working on a few ideas. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll work, and they¡¯re all pretty risky. But all of them require us all to get updated to have a chance.¡±


    ¡°I do not like that idea,¡± says Jeff. ¡°I¡¯d like to eliminate the impending danger to the earth as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ve got something better, I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    He just gives me a long look and then slowly shakes his head.


    ¡°All right, then.¡±


    Tue 10/25 18:06:44 PDT


    The gorgeous brunette on the dinner line scoops a serving of bright yellow lentils onto my flatbread. Someone must have listened to the requests that my class has been putting in since the trip. I think this is the first time the meal rotation has changed since I¡¯ve been here.


    I head to my usual table and settle in next to Evan, Andrea, and Louise. Jeff is off in his corner like always. No one¡¯s talking much. I¡¯m sure that they¡¯re all trying to come up with plans for Father that don¡¯t require us all to get updated. Or one that won¡¯t risk us getting killed. That¡¯s the common line through all my ideas that rely on his tech. He knows the bots too well. He¡¯ll always have the upper hand there.


    Maybe I can find inspiration in his personal files. There¡¯s got to be some weakness, some vulnerability that I haven¡¯t seen yet. I haven¡¯t hacked him in a while, but with the augments to my cloud, it should be easier than ever now. I don¡¯t need to worry about being surprised by someone coming into the lab. I¡¯d feel them coming the second they came into the building. All it costs is some pain, and I can pay that price.


    I get up from the table with a nod to my sibs and head out. I can feel that the lab is empty long before I open the doors to the Learning Center. The darkened hallway and the muffled, crashing rage of Roxanne¡¯s music through the walls confirm what my bots already knew. I form an eye in the IT office and see Roxanne is clacking away at a keyboard. Is she actually working for once? No, it¡¯s a chat where she¡¯s discussing the finer points of full back tattoos with TatFan397. She won¡¯t be coming this way any time soon, but she¡¯s getting close to picking out a new bit of ink for her right shoulder.


    Since I already have the route to Father¡¯s server figured out from what feels like forever ago, I get into his files in just a few minutes. I scan through his personal logs going back the last two years, committing them to my electronic memory as I go. Plenty of notes referencing my sibs in there. He¡¯s got extensive entries on every single one of them. I skip past the files about the younger kids and start on the ones for my cohort.


    Most of the notes about Andrea revolve around an overload in her implant that happened a few weeks after he installed it. He says he tried everything to reverse the damage to her language centers, but nothing made her take any interest in recovering her voice. Father speculates that it was a choice on her part after the initial trauma, which I¡¯m tempted to believe. She seems perfectly happy without speaking. According to the notes, all the physical damage was repaired. If she wanted to use words again, she should be able to.


    Marc¡¯s file is surprising. According to a bunch of testing Father had done about a year ago, Marc is a certified verbal genius. He doesn¡¯t come right out and say it, but I get the impression that Father was worried he was an idiot, which is what I had thought when I first met him. I guess I¡¯ve always underestimated him. He is one of the best storytellers I¡¯ve ever met. He¡¯s terrible at math, science, and most technical skills, but while Father is disappointed about that, he doesn¡¯t seem to think any of it will be a dealbreaker for getting him upgraded.


    In Louise¡¯s file, I find out that Father has been suspicious about Louise¡¯s behavior since she got her implant. He¡¯s got speculations in his notes ranging from drug use to a variety of mental disorders. In the most recent notes, he concludes that she¡¯s bipolar. I wonder if that¡¯s true. Did her dependence on the implant for chemical joy come because of an underlying issue, or does her regular tweaking of her own chemistry make it look like she¡¯s manic-depressive? He¡¯s customizing his new rig with some chemical regulators to keep her stable.


    Chad gets a lot of praise in his. No surprise there. The only thing critical about him was from when he tried to put up the statue. Father did not love that, but he seems to think it was funny in hindsight. He¡¯s got some vague references to Chad leaving in a few months, but no details. That¡¯s worth digging into some more when I have time.


    Evan¡¯s section is slim. It doesn¡¯t look like he gets much attention from Father. He does well in classes, but not exceptionally well. He doesn¡¯t cause any trouble. Father doesn¡¯t worry about him, or pin any high hopes on him. Guess there¡¯s not much value in Father¡¯s estimation for just being a good man.


    Jeff, on the other hand, takes up a disproportional chunk of Father¡¯s notes over the last couple of years. His teachers report him as a super genius with strong tendencies towards paranoia. His version of history includes all the conspiracies about everything from JFK to 9/11. Father doesn¡¯t think he can do an easy chemical fix like with Louise. There¡¯s even a note that he considered not doing the update for him, but he finally decided it was worth it because of the risks inherent in the second generation hardware.


    Interesting. I¡¯ve often thought that Jeff was acting paranoid, but I didn¡¯t think it was a literal, clinical thing. If I were still on the fence about his killer AI theory, this would have been enough for me to dismiss it. Especially since I haven¡¯t seen anything in Father¡¯s private notes here that give it any credibility.


    I feel someone moving down at the other end of the hall and open an eye there to take a look. It¡¯s one of the guys in the class just younger than mine. Phil? Stan? Why can¡¯t I remember names anymore? I used to be so good with names. I¡¯ve got to start putting pictures in my database so I can remember who is who. It doesn¡¯t matter now though. He¡¯s not coming this way, just stopping at the bathroom down the hall. I wait a moment to make sure he¡¯s not coming toward the computer lab.


    I shouldn¡¯t have opened that extra eye, it¡¯s too much with also keeping tabs on the whole building. My skull feels like it¡¯s going to split open. I check my scan for damage, but my blood vessels and gray matter are still holding on. Whatever this is, it¡¯s not killing me yet. I shrug off the pain and dive back into Father¡¯s notes.


    The next section is all about me. He¡¯s put a lot in here since I arrived at the end of March. My implant installation and upgrade procedures both went unexpectedly well. Seems I¡¯ve been exceeding expectations across the board. If he¡¯s noticed that I¡¯m pushing up against the limits of my sanity to master the implant and the bots, he doesn¡¯t say anything about it here. Nothing in his comments show any suspicions about me at all.


    Good.


    I scan through the feedback from my teachers. All glowing. Mr. Johnson even says that I¡¯m the best student he¡¯s ever had. Aw. That¡¯s nice.


    I find the notes he added after our trip. Interesting. He¡¯s pretty frank about taking down those troops in Somalia. He refers to them as the Fist of Peace, which seems like a funny name. I¡¯ll have to look that up later. He¡¯s clearly got no remorse about killing them all. If anything, he seems pretty happy about it, if I¡¯m reading the tone right. But I could be wrong. It¡¯s tough to tell with the notes as terse as they are.


    There¡¯s nothing referencing the swarm AI at all, which doesn¡¯t surprise me at this point because Jeff¡¯s theory is stupid. Given all the other concerns he does write about, hooking a robotic intelligence up to our brains would definitely merit some consideration of the risks involved. I¡¯m wondering more and more how I ever put as much confidence in Jeff¡¯s conclusions as I did. I seem to remember his arguments seemed almost reasonable at the time. I¡¯ll take a look at the new bot control code when I have time. That should give me a definitive answer on it, if I ever need to prove it to the others. I get the feeling that at this point Jeff won¡¯t change his mind on it even if I find solid proof.


    A new plan starts churning through my mind. An ugly plan, but one that might have a better shot than any of the half-baked ideas I¡¯ve come up with so far. It¡¯s morally reprehensible, and it¡¯ll be a fight to get any of the others on board with it, but I think it could actually work. I¡¯ll think about it more later.


    For now, it¡¯s getting near curfew. Time to shut down. I clean up after myself, throw Mom¡¯s laptop into my satchel, and head out. I let my awareness collapse down to just the area right around me. The throbbing pain relents by the time I hit the door to my room. I pull out my tablet and get started on my homework. I still need to fake like I solved a bunch of partial differential equations for Mr. Johnson and write up my plagiarized amalgamation describing the impact of green energy technologies on the Middle East for Mrs. Jones before I sleep tonight.


    Fun.


    At least I can let the nanobots rest for this part. I¡¯m tired of my eyeballs feeling like they¡¯re going to burst

 Wed 10/26 12:04:16 PDT and Thu 10/27 14:04:16 PDT

    Wed 10/26 12:04:16 PDT


    I go through the lunch line and pick up my unseasoned grilled chicken with green beans on the side. I guess it was too much to hope that last night¡¯s dinner would mean new things with every meal. At least the chicken is better than the cafeteria pizza. I seem to remember liking pizza, though I can¡¯t for the life of me remember why. Who would enjoy a limp, rectangular piece of cheese bread with a decorative pepperoni slice? And weren¡¯t pizzas supposed to be round? That seems right. I think there was a special oven for it at some restaurant I used to go to, back in the real world, though the details are too fuzzy to put together. Maybe it¡¯s better if it¡¯s made with the right equipment.


    I check in my electronic brain for references to pizza. My database is getting more comprehensive every day, so maybe I¡¯ve read something that will jog my memory. Nope. There is, however, a pizza oven in the construction library. I wonder if the kitchen crew would let me build one for them. I¡¯ll make a note to ask. I needed to test out the to-do list feature that I added to my implant¡¯s memory and processing system anyway. It¡¯s getting to be so much more than just the database I started with. At this point, it¡¯s like an index of everything I know.


    I head to the table in the corner where Jeff is sitting alone. His piece of chicken sits half-dissolved on his plate. The edges of where it¡¯s still recognizable as food writhe with the activity of his bots. A thin thread of chicken goo flows upwards from the pre-digested half up into his waiting mouth. Looks like the gains in normality that he made on the trip have faded along with the tan he picked up.


    ¡°Jeff, do you have a minute?¡± I ask him, ignoring his disgusting eating habits.


    ¡°Of course, Noah. I am presently unoccupied.¡± The stream of bots carrying food particles to his mouth pauses as he speaks. I idly wonder if he set up a trigger for that, or if he manually commanded them to stop.


    ¡°Great.¡± I take a seat next to him and lean in close enough that we won¡¯t be overheard. The lunch rush is in full swing now, so there¡¯s plenty of background noise, but I slide my chair close to his anyway so we won¡¯t be overheard. I really need to learn Louise¡¯s eavesdropping shield. Why do I keep forgetting about that? I¡¯ll have to settle for whispering. ¡°This is important. I¡¯ve made some discoveries that you¡¯ll want to know about.¡±


    ¡°Does this regard our illustrious progenitor?¡± he asks, his voice as soft as mine.


    I flip on a new set of analysis functions that I haven¡¯t tried yet and let a contingent of my bots start recording Jeff¡¯s vital signs. The capability is intended for medical use, but with a few tweaks I think I can use it as a polygraph. Not that I¡¯m worried about Jeff lying to me, I just want to make sure I¡¯m reading his reactions right. With that impassive, emotionless face of his, I often can¡¯t tell what¡¯s going on with him. But his physiological symptoms should be as readable as anyone¡¯s. His pulse rate, pupil dilation, breathing, skin conductivity, and a bunch of other metrics appear in my overlay.


    ¡°Yes, Jeff, it does. And I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to like it.¡±


    I pull up the script I wrote for what I plan to tell him in my overlay opposite from the polygraph so I don¡¯t forget any of the important parts. Based on Father¡¯s notes about him and the psychology textbooks I checked, it should push pretty much every button.


    ¡°I got access to his personal files. Don¡¯t ask how. I can¡¯t reveal my sources. I¡¯m not overstating when I tell you that what I found was shocking.¡± I pause a second for effect. ¡°Jeff, he¡¯s been murdering people for decades. The first ones he killed were his own parents. He rigged their car so that the brakes would fail at a key moment. That¡¯s how he got the money to start SynTech.¡±


    His reaction is exactly what I hoped for. His pulse quickens, his pupils dilate. Fear or excitement. Probably both. The lightest trace of a smile I probably wouldn¡¯t have noticed if I wasn¡¯t measuring every millimeter of his face. My story confirms something that he already suspected.


    ¡°Are you certain?¡± he asks. ¡°Could your source be mistaken?¡±


    I wait for a couple of the ten-year-olds walking by to get clear of our table.


    ¡°I¡¯m as sure as anyone can be about something like this. The evidence is in the cover-up more than anything. He was in town visiting them when it happened. He went through a lot of trouble to make sure no one got a chance to look at their car after the accident. He had already started his company and was racking up bills that he couldn¡¯t pay on his own.¡± It probably isn¡¯t actually true, but it¡¯s plausible enough. It fits with the timeline of events, and most importantly, it¡¯s the kind of conspiracy thinking that Jeff loves.


    ¡°I see.¡± His face remains unreadable. His physiology tells me everything.


    ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± I push on, following my script. ¡°There were early collaborations between SynTech and Universal Robotics. I think that Father may have been involved in creating the project that later became the bots and their AI.¡±


    That one¡¯s not true at all, but there¡¯s no way for Jeff to know that. His eyes visibly widen. His heart rate speeds up, and his pupils dilate even further. Even without my augmented senses, I could have seen his pallid skin get a shade paler. Stronger fear responses. He¡¯s more scared of the AI than the murders.


    ¡°Have you shared this with the others yet?¡± he asks, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly.


    Marc walks by the table with a couple of the girls from the second class. They¡¯re going slowly and talking about the latest episode of Hillside High. It feels like forever before they get clear and I can answer.


    ¡°I came to you first,¡± I tell him with my practiced sincere look. ¡°You know that I value your input more than anything. You¡¯re the only one I trust with this.¡±


    ¡°You have made the right choice, Noah,¡± he says with a tortured smile. ¡°This information verifies suspicions I have had for some time. Please do not discuss it with the others at this point. I am not sure they can be trusted as you and I can.¡±


    I nod conspiratorially and excuse myself. I feel a twinge of guilt for preying on Jeff¡¯s paranoia, but I don¡¯t see an alternative. Someone is going down for what we¡¯re going to do, and it¡¯s better him than me.


    Thu 10/27 14:04:16 PDT


    I¡¯ve had the whole suite of new options turned on all day, and I haven¡¯t had more than a mild headache. I¡¯m finally getting acclimated to the sensory overload of the updated cloud. The diagnostic display shows that most of the hyperactive brain remodeling has settled down. My hormone levels are even stable most of the time. Omnidirectional vision feels like the way things always should have been, and I feel blind when I drop down to just my two biological eyes.


    The effort now is to make sure that I use my muscles for things that I could easily do with the bots. It¡¯s so tempting to grab things from a distance rather than walking over and picking them up. ¡°Don¡¯t be a Jeff¡± has become my new mantra and I have to remind myself of it several times a day.


    I reach out with my hand and open the door to the Father¡¯s lab in the Research Center. He¡¯s already there waiting for me. He picks up a dry erase marker from the tray under the whiteboard, so I guess we¡¯re going to be doing something educational and not just diagnostic.


    ¡°Noah, my boy, how has the upgrade been treating you?¡± he asks eagerly.


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing Father,¡± I answer truthfully. ¡°I¡¯ve been exercising all the features we talked about, and it¡¯s incredible. The controls are so intuitive that it all feels natural.¡±


    ¡°Good, good! And how has your physical response been? Any headaches or other danger signs?¡±


    ¡°Some mild headaches the first couple of days, but not anything more serious than what I might get normally,¡± I lie. He doesn¡¯t need to know that I¡¯ve been excruciating myself to master the thing. Besides, I¡¯m fine now. Really.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Father says, picking up a debug cable and plugging one end into his server rack. ¡°Please, take a seat. I was a little worried after the upgrade. Chad had quite a time of it during his first few days. I believe that was due to adapting to both the new implant and the new sensory input at the same time. Having more time to acclimate yourself to the current version of the hardware before enabling the full capabilities of the cloud seems to have had very beneficial results for you. I¡¯ll adjust the schedule and have the next candidates take some time with the updated implant before unlocking the full suite of input.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°Who is up next, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Louise, Evan, Jeff, and Andrea. I decided to do them concurrently, giving each of them longer breaks between calibration sessions,¡± he says as he straightens a kink in the cable. ¡°They¡¯ll all be complete within a few days of each other.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll like that,¡± I tell him, but I can¡¯t let that schedule happen. I need Evan, Louise, and Andrea all upgraded for my plan to work, but if he does Jeff at the same time, he¡¯ll wreck everything.


    ¡°I thought so, too,¡± Father says with a smile.


    He holds out his hand for my oversized phone. I hand it over, and he connects the cable.


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    We sit in silence for a few minutes as Father checks readings from my implant on his screens, nodding as everything checks out.


    ¡°Father?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yes, Noah?¡±


    ¡°Is Jeff OK?¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Why do you ask that?¡± He drops his hands and looks at me over the tops of his glasses.


    ¡°Just some things he says and does. Sometimes I wonder if he needs help. He told me yesterday that someone was out to get him. He wouldn¡¯t say who, just that someone was out there. I thought you should know.¡±


    He steps over, puts his hand on my shoulder, and looks at me with his reassuring and gentle eyes.


    ¡°I appreciate you telling me this, Noah. I¡¯ll take it into consideration and make sure he gets any help he needs.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I just want to make sure that he¡¯s going to be OK. He¡¯s a good guy, even if he¡¯s a little different, you know?¡±


    ¡°That he is, son,¡± he agrees. ¡°That he is.¡±


    I hope Father can help Jeff. I worry about him. I hope he can handle the update, if Father is really going to set him up with that soon, but it makes me so nervous that it¡¯ll be too much for him. But I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll all be OK now. Father knows what he¡¯s doing.


    The rest of the diagnostics all come up green on his monitor. Father reaches for the cable.


    DEBUG INTERFACE TERMINATED


    And I get my mind back to myself. I hope I played that right, putting the right amount of concern in my voice, putting the right amount of urgency in the transmitted chunk of my log that Father now has sitting on his computer. I need to amplify his worry, get him to defer Jeff¡¯s upgrade, but not take any other serious actions yet. I hope I threaded that needle right.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Father finally says, his voice returning to its usual annoying cheerfulness. ¡°Everything is looking very good, and I¡¯ve opened up a new set of tools for you. The self-defense libraries are now available for your access. Let¡¯s discuss what they are, how they work, and how to make the best use of them. Then I¡¯ll walk you through some simple use cases.¡±


    He steps over to his whiteboard. We spend the next hour going over all the defensive features of the cloud and how they work. I index all of it in my database for reference later.


    ¡°Enough theory,¡± Father declares. ¡°Let¡¯s put this into practice.¡±


    He leads me out of the lab and into a hall I¡¯ve never been down. He opens a large steel door to reveal what looks like a shooting range with three rubbery looking dummy torsos at the other end.\


    ¡°Let¡¯s get the scary part over with first. Stand over there, if you would, please,¡± he says, waving toward the dummies at the end of the range. ¡°And go ahead and form some earplugs with your bots. The bullets won¡¯t do you any harm, but you don¡¯t want any hearing loss.¡±


    With more than a little trepidation, I comply. I pull my bots in toward me from where they¡¯ve been spacing themselves out across this part of the campus. I want all of them handy if he¡¯s going to do live testing of what he just explained. I trigger the routine that plugs my ears up and try to keep my cool as he unlocks a tall safe on the wall near the door. He pulls out a rifle, aims it at my head, and fires.


    Even with the earplugs, the report is deafeningly loud. I feel the pinprick of destroyed bots on my non-skin. It worked! Just like Father said, my cloud recognized the gun as it pointed in my direction and automatically formed a point shield hovering in the calculated path of the bullet, ready to deflect the shot to the side. I turn and see Father¡¯s bots in my overlay already repairing the damage to the reinforced wall behind me.


    Father points at his ears and makes a pulling motion. I guess he¡¯s only going to shoot me once. I dissolve the earplugs, letting the bots fan out.


    ¡°Come on over here, son,¡± he says, as if he hadn¡¯t just shot at me. ¡°You may be feeling invincible now. I know that I did the first time I tested this out. Don¡¯t be too confident,¡± Father warns. ¡°This was a small caliber rifle, and your mileage may vary with larger ordnance. Your best defense is your own vigilance.¡±


    I nod, not sure what to say.


    ¡°Now, other weapons, the sort that could cause blunt force trauma or lacerations, they¡¯re handled with defenses that are more reliable. Let¡¯s give them a try.¡±


    He steps back to the safe and pulls out a wicked-looking blade. The sort you¡¯d see a soldier using in an action movie.


    ¡°Hold your arm out, please.¡±


    I raise my arm to shoulder level and he lifts the knife to hack at it. My bots respond without any effort on my part, interconnecting in multiple layers in a rigid configuration just outside my skin in the path of the knife. The blade bounces off harmlessly. The shock absorbers make it so I barely feel a thing. He swings again, twisting the knife at the last second and dragging it along the length of my arm, against the armor that forms faster than his hand can move.


    ¡°See, Noah.¡± He smiles his proud-dad smile. ¡°Nothing to worry about from weapons like these. The software does a good job of detecting anything that might cut or crush you by analyzing velocities and accelerations of the objects all around you. I wouldn¡¯t go picking a fight with an army, but if you have a standard-sized cloud you¡¯d be fine against a pack of ruffians equipped with anything less than military-grade weaponry.¡±


    He turns the knife in his hand and offers it to me handle-first. I warily pick it up. I hope he doesn¡¯t want me to do the same back to him to prove a point. If I start stabbing at him, I¡¯m not sure I could make myself stop.


    ¡°Touch the blade to the skin of your hand,¡± he instructs. ¡°Don¡¯t incise, just touch the skin.¡±


    Nothing happens as I let the tip get near the palm of my hand. I press just enough to dimple the flesh.


    ¡°You see, no threat is detected there,¡± Father explains. ¡°The software running your cloud is able to determine that it is you holding the knife. Now hand it back to me.¡±


    I turn the blade and return it the same way he gave it to me. He immediately plunges it toward the center of my chest, moving faster than I would have thought possible for a man of his age. I gasp and reflexively try to pull away, but I¡¯m much too slow. The dark armor that appears out of nowhere presses lightly against my shirt, and I barely feel a thing as the knife bounces off. Father gives me a quick grin and sets the knife back in the safe and closes the door.


    ¡°That¡¯s amazing.¡±


    ¡°Again, it is not completely infallible, but it is quite reliable. But again, your vigilance is still your best defense.¡±


    ¡°So how do I stay vigilant?¡± I say, knowing that¡¯s what he wants me to ask.


    ¡°Excellent question! Once you have identified an actor with hostile intent, you have several options to deal with them. With your weapons system enabled, you¡¯ll find a new set of capabilities if you check in your overlay¡¯s tool options.¡±


    I eye-tap into the new menu and find the controls. I give Father a nod as I start checking out the list of ways I can wreck people with my cloud.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see that they¡¯re ordered from least to most lethal,¡± he says. ¡°Go ahead and try the first one.¡±


    I select the Distract/Disable option from the top of the list. It¡¯s got a little slider that I leave on the lowest setting. Dozens of gnat-sized conglomerations of bots consolidate from my cloud. According to Father¡¯s lecture, they¡¯re supposed to swarm around the target and discharge small electrical shocks meant to confuse and distract. Father gestures towards one of the target dummies and nods encouragingly. Targeting is as simple as thought. With my cloud¡¯s awareness of the dummy¡¯s place in space, I only need to send the target a mental nudge. The gnats swarm around the dummy and I get a slight whiff of ozone.


    ¡°I found that one handy for hecklers in a crowd,¡± Father chuckles. ¡°The shocks aren¡¯t visible unless it¡¯s dark and the bugs are small enough that only someone very close can see them. The recipient won¡¯t take any lasting damage on a low setting, but they¡¯ll have a tough time trying to do anything while the technique is engaged. And they¡¯ll generally look very foolish to anyone unaware of what¡¯s happening to them.¡±


    I nod in acknowledgement. Father tases people when he doesn¡¯t like them interrupting him. I¡¯m not terribly surprised, but I guess I thought he was less petty than that.


    ¡°With the next several techniques, you¡¯ll want to be careful in close quarters. If your assailant is near you or others, they may not be the most appropriate choices as there is some risk of collateral damage. But at a distance they¡¯re excellent against small groups of aggressors. Go ahead and get familiar with them.¡±


    I pick the Projectile (5 mm) option and get a slider for velocity. I crank it all the way up and aim it straight at the first dummy¡¯s head. At first, I can¡¯t tell if anything happened, other than a poking feeling with my bot sense. But when I feel the dummy out with my cloud, there¡¯s a small hole punched through it right where I was aiming. That was fast. The bot bullet formed, fired, and dissolved before I could see anything happen.


    I¡¯ve got a gun in my head now.


    I get similar results with the 10mm, 15mm, and 20mm options. I skip down to the biggest one in the projectile series. 150mm? That¡¯s got to be artillery sized, right? I test it out, triggering it at medium speed, and it blows a cannonball sized hole right through the center of the dummy. I get a sharp reminder of the go-kart analogy Father used when we talked about my old code. This really does make my old beatdown function look like a child¡¯s toy.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Father exclaims, his proud dad smile beaming at me again. ¡°Now, keep in mind that you can target from multiple directions, not just in a straight line from you to the target. Just plot the vector in your mind as if you were going to move a single bot along those lines. You can fire around corners or behind cover this way. Try it out on the second target.¡±


    I nod and switch back to the 10mm option. I kick on my math solver to do my calculations and a few seconds later release a volley from a hundred angles that shreds the hardened rubber of the dummy so badly that it droops down and collapses. I smell burned rubber as Father guffaws with laughter.


    ¡°Oh, my boy, my boy. I am so very, very proud of you.¡± He puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me a little side hug as I fight the urge to shrug him off. ¡°Just look at how far you¡¯ve come.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Father.¡± I wish I could demolish him like I just did with the dummy, but part of me knows that he wouldn¡¯t have given me these weapons if he didn¡¯t have a way to protect himself from them. It¡¯s fine. These aren¡¯t the weapons that are going to strike him down.


    ¡°Let¡¯s test out one last tool in your arsenal, then we¡¯ll wrap up for the day. You¡¯re free to use this test range as much as you like. Just put the dummies back as you found them, or let Mrs. Hastings know they need to be replaced if you can¡¯t. Go ahead and select that last option on the list.¡±


    The Dissolve option completely annihilates the third dummy. The air around it darkens as my cloud converges. Every nanobot tears off a tiny chunk of the rubber flesh, drops it on the ground, and returns to rip out another piece. It''s like piranhas in a feeding frenzy. In just a few seconds, the dummy is gone and a thick layer of pink dust is settling to the floor where it stood. I have to suppress a shudder as I picture Father using this on real people just a few meters away from me back in Somalia. I¡¯m glad we didn¡¯t try anything directly against him. I¡¯d hate to have him turn this on us.


    ¡°Noah.¡± Father¡¯s smiling face turns serious. ¡°You have the power to grant life, as we did in Africa. You also have the power now to take it away if you need to. I trust that you will use this power only when needed, and only in defense of yourself and others. You¡¯ll want to practice regularly on your own with these skills going forward. These tools and your expertise in their use will ensure your safety in almost any situation. I should tell you now that you children will be responsible for your own protection the next time you leave the campus. I won¡¯t be coming along with you as we expand our operations. The last trip took more out of me than I wanted to admit. I¡¯m afraid that my age is catching up to me.¡±


    Is he getting sentimental on me? What would Chad say in this situation?


    ¡°You¡¯re not that old,¡± I reassure him, ¡°but I¡¯m glad that you¡¯re going to take care of yourself. The world still needs you. I¡¯m sure that what you¡¯ve taught me will keep us safe while we keep on saving the world together.¡±


    I hope the syrupy sweet reply doesn¡¯t come off as sarcastic. If it does, he doesn¡¯t seem to pick it up. I do everything I can to keep the searing hate from my eyes. He has to believe my good son act. He seems satisfied with that response, and his crooked smile returns. He looks down at the end of the range, and the rubber dummies start to reform themselves. I hear a fan kick on somewhere, clearing out the smell of melting rubber.


    ¡°Practice hard,¡± he encourages me. ¡°These skills may save your life one day.¡±


    They might, Father. But they won¡¯t save yours.

 Sun 11/20 06:23:11 PST and Mon 11/21 09:06:11 PST

    Sun 11/20 06:23:11 PST


    I had a dream last night. A really good dream. It wasn¡¯t even a sexual one, like the ones I always have about the cafeteria girls. It was better than that. It¡¯s fading, as they always do, but I¡¯m trying to remember it now and get it down before it¡¯s gone.


    I can¡¯t quite recall the location. Somewhere that felt familiar, but not here in my home on campus. Maybe somewhere I lived before? Not important. What mattered was that someone else was there with me. Someone that made me feel warm and safe.


    I look out the window of my room. It¡¯s still dark out. My dream scratches at my brain. I should know who I was dreaming of, but I can¡¯t picture the face, or hear the voice. All I can remember is that feeling, that security. That love.


    Mom.


    That was Mom in my dream. I haven¡¯t even thought of her in so long. I mean, avenging her murder is my motivation for everything, but I haven¡¯t spent any time actually thinking of her. It¡¯s been nothing but planning, coding, improving my implant¡¯s index, and practicing with the bots all day every day. I miss her. I can almost picture her.


    Wait.


    No.


    No photo pops up when I think the word Mom. She¡¯s not hooked into the index. I don¡¯t have an entry telling me all the facts I should remember about her or linking my logs of the conversations I¡¯ve had with her or the times I¡¯ve recorded thinking of her.


    I should know what she looks like, but I can¡¯t picture her. I can¡¯t remember her face. That¡¯s not right. I know what she looked like. She had hair. Her hair was...


    Wait, what color was it? I can¡¯t remember. She had a voice. I know that I knew what it sounded like. We talked all the time. But somehow, now I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t know what she sounded like. I can¡¯t remember her voice at all. Why can¡¯t I remember her voice?


    Why can¡¯t I remember her face!?


    No. No. No!


    Where¡¯s that picture? I had a picture of her at some point, but it¡¯s not on my desk. I sweep my bots through the room, looking in every drawer for anything that could be the right size. Nothing. I scan back through my logs. I don¡¯t know what happened to it.


    No, wait. I had it on the desk, right there. I remember now. Marc wrecked it. Dammit Marc! You ruined my only picture of her. I was going to get a new one from Grammy, but it slipped my mind every time I called.


    How could I forget what Mom looked like? What she sounded like? My memory is great, why can¡¯t I remember?


    I try to remember the other people that I know. That I knew, back before I started relying on the descriptions in my index for everything. Grammy and Gramps are only vague humanoid lumps in my memory, and I just talked to them a few weeks ago. I have their words in my database, but I¡¯m spacing when I try to think what they look like. I try to remember the kids that I went to school with, back at my old school. I spent years with them, but I can¡¯t remember a single one of their names now. I remember Father and my siblings here, but they¡¯re all in the index. The line between my real memory and the augmentations I¡¯ve made to it is so fuzzy now, it all just feels like me.


    DIAGNOSTIC MODE


    I check the remodeling of my brain. Since the headaches got manageable, I haven¡¯t worried much about how things were changing in there. I scan through my transcripts of Mr. Johnson¡¯s lectures to see what areas of the brain are associated with memory. Hippocampus, amygdala, neocortex. I check each and compare them to previous scans. Shit! I¡¯ve got extensive remodeling in all of those areas, most of it since the implant got upgraded.


    I¡¯ve been pushing myself so hard on using the implant. Did I wreck my ability to recall memories at will? I¡¯ve barely needed to lately, since the index takes care of most of that.


    How broken am I now? What can I remember? Words and ideas seem fine. Can I still do math? I run through some arithmetic, then algebra, geometry and calculus, though I find myself switching into the software solver without even realizing it. Good enough. I don¡¯t care which side of my brain is doing the math, as long as I can get it done.


    Books I¡¯ve read. I remember some of those. The ones I¡¯ve been reading for classes lately are all there. No, that¡¯s the electronic storage. I can barely tell the difference for text.


    Movies. I remember those, the stories anyway. I can¡¯t seem to recall what the actors looked like. Music? I remember songs I heard recently. Marc had some high-energy pop crap playing in the common room last night. I used to listen to music with Mom. She loved the oldies. The Beatles and the Stones. Buddy Holly. I remember that about her now. I can¡¯t think of any of the tunes, just some of the lyrics. I want to hold your hand. I would always reach out and hold her hand when that one played. She thought it was funny that I would still do it, even when I was a teenager.


    What did that hand look like? Why can¡¯t I remember that? Why did I have to lose her? I can¡¯t even remember her name.


    Who else did I lose? My first crush, what was her name? It was sixth grade. She was my dance partner when we had to do a ballroom dance in school. I remember stepping one-two-three. Her hair smelled like strawberries. She moved away that summer. I never saw her again after that. What was her name? What did she look like? I get the smell of her hair again and can¡¯t remember anything else.


    I can¡¯t lose Mom. Not like this. What can I salvage? What¡¯s still there?


    DOPE-ME


    Focus. I remember that she loved me. That feeling from the dream. That¡¯s something. I remember that I love her. I can still feel that now. But I can¡¯t picture what she looked like. When I think of things she would say to me, I can only get a few words now. Not how she sounded. Not her tone.


    Shit. I am literally losing my mind.


    Breathe. Calm. Breathe.


    That was her. Those words. I remember that. She would say that to get me to calm down. I breathe now, long and slow. Between that and Louise¡¯s dopamine trick, I get myself under control.


    I remember Mom telling me to put on my jacket on cold days, but when I try to picture it, all I get is a monotone mumble from a featureless face. Her hair was long, I remember that now. It was long, and she would brush it while we watched TV on Saturday mornings. She watched cartoons with me. I ate cereal on the couch. I had to be careful not to spill. I remember that. But in my mind¡¯s eye, I can¡¯t see the person sitting on the couch with me. I know I wasn¡¯t alone, but I can¡¯t see what she looked like.


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    Was she tall? Was she short? Was she thin? Was she fat?


    I can¡¯t remember a single thing like that about her.


    What was her name?


    I can¡¯t remember that either.


    Wait, no. I have it. Father¡¯s notes had it. I wrote that down.


    Mary!


    Her name was Mary!


    I won¡¯t lose that.


    I can¡¯t lose that.


    Mary. Mary. Mary.


    Mon 11/21 09:06:11 PST


    I can barely focus on Mrs. Jones'' lesson enough to enter it into my electronic brain. I¡¯m sure that export regulations on dual-use technology are important, but I think Father has a special waiver from the U.N. and the Department of Defense on most of that stuff. How could I lose so many of my memories? Every few minutes I¡¯m tempted to tap my dopamine receptors to generate some chemical happiness, but I keep fighting the urge. I spent too much of yesterday doing that and I don¡¯t want to become an addict on top of everything else.


    ¡°Are you all right, Noah? You seem out of sorts this morning.¡± I turn my face toward Mrs. Jones and see the concern in her eyes.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry. It¡¯s nothing,¡± I lie. ¡°I didn¡¯t sleep well last night. Please, go on. You were talking about the difference between ITAR and EAR export regulations.¡±


    One thing that I really miss about conventional schooling is being able to blend in with the class and get ignored when you want to. I can¡¯t argue with the effectiveness of this one-on-one teaching, since I¡¯ve jumped well into college-level material in every subject we¡¯ve worked on. But just sitting in the back and tuning out isn¡¯t an option. I cram my feelings down and give her enough of my attention that she lets my poor performance slide as the nearly automated part of my brain transcribes her lecture.


    How much is there that I don¡¯t even realize I can¡¯t remember? For some of it, I have dangling edges of memories that I can pull on so that at least I have some idea of what I don¡¯t know anymore. But I could have had a year where I ran off and joined the circus for all I know. I mean, I think I¡¯d remember that, but I can¡¯t be sure. I can¡¯t remember school teachers past last year, or any classmates ever. I have vague ideas that I had some friends, but I can¡¯t come up with anything about who they were. No names or faces for neighbors either, though I¡¯m sure that I had some. Friendly ones, I think. I remember someone brought over a pie one time. Maybe a nice old lady?


    My recent memories all seem fine though. I remember the trip to Africa clearly, and most things since I got here on campus. The stuff since the implant is easy. I just refer back to the console log, and it all rushes back when I read it. My theory right now is that any memories that I didn¡¯t actively access while I was pushing myself training on my new implant senses got chewed up, or at least the recall mechanism connecting to them got broken. Accelerated neural plasticity in action, my brain reallocated what I wasn¡¯t using to enable what I needed. Since I was using my database and index to replace a lot of my recall, those brain cells were fair game. I could maybe get some of the memories back if I had something to prompt them, but I didn¡¯t have much beyond the clothes on my back when I arrived here.


    The paper journal helps a lot with my early days here. Maybe I can get Evan to supplement what I didn¡¯t write down at the time, add it all into my implant¡¯s storage. I wonder if I kept one before I came to campus. No. Probably not. The one I have was a gift from Grammy, something she gave me to help me process the grief from Mom¡¯s death if I can believe my own first few entries. If I had kept one before that, I¡¯m sure I would have brought it along.


    The worst of it is that this is all my fault. It¡¯s my fault for not remembering Mom enough while I played with my brain implant. If I¡¯d written about her more, thought of her more, I could have kept more memories of her.


    I¡¯m the worst son ever.


    Mrs. Jones half of class finally ends. Mr. Johnson knocks as he enters. He and Mrs. Jones exchange greetings and goodbyes as she makes her way out. I kick on my solver and apply it to working some statistics problems with Mr. Johnson''s guidance. We calculate the probabilities of breakdowns in various kinds of electricity distribution systems. I think the point is to show that distributed systems with storage buffers are way more resilient than centralized power plants. Kind of obvious, but the exercise is interesting enough that it distracts me from my self-pity. By the end of class I¡¯m feeling slightly less bad.


    Computer lab is quiet, like it always is ever since Chad got the go-ahead to graduate himself from it. I could start skipping too if I wanted. Father said that I¡¯ve demonstrated a sufficient grasp of the basics, and that I don¡¯t need to write much in the way of code anymore. I told him that I wanted to make sure I really got the fundamentals down. He seemed very pleased with that. Mostly I want to reserve the dedicated time so I can keep working on my index.


    I take a seat off on my own and scratch at memories for another hour, gaining very little.


    I hate this. I hate myself. Most of all I hate Father for causing all of this.


    DOPE-ME


    I need to work on something else. Something that has nothing to do with my memory problems. Something to take my mind off of my stupid wrecked brain. I¡¯ve been meaning to do a deep dive into the upgraded implant code anyway, but training on how to actually use it has always taken priority. I close my eyes and turn down my cloud senses, then start opening terminals in my overlay. Like with the old version, the control code is all available on the phone.


    Wow. I thought the old code repository was huge, but had nothing on what¡¯s in here now. Gigabytes of source. Hundreds of billions of lines of it. I feel hopeless despite my chemical tricks until I realize how well organized it is. I think I can actually find my way around in here. As I dig in, I can see that a lot of it is similar in principle to the construction libraries that I dived into before the upgrade, but on a massive scale. Files describing actions and reactions for a million contingencies.


    Jeff¡¯s whole worry about the AI started with the size of Father¡¯s giant cloud, and that it seemed to adaptively work around the pipes he was laying when Father built the desalination plant. I start looking through the routines that Father used in building the walls of the superstructure. I get in the zone as I trace functions in and out of libraries trying to find the real explanation.


    There it is. Jeff is an idiot, and I was an idiot for giving him as much credit as I did. There¡¯s nothing adaptive in here. It¡¯s not AI at all, just developers who thought through a whole lot of contingencies.


    There are synergies that kick in when certain thresholds of bots are committed for tasks. When enough are put to work on something, some of the workers self-modify according to hardcoded patterns and specialize more efficiently than when they have to multitask. Carrier bots that aren¡¯t flying reconfigure their ports for more limbs and fewer jets. Some bots become dedicated chemists processing materials and letting other bots feed them and take their products away. A dozen other optimizations that only trigger when you dedicate enough bots to doing a job that will last long enough to make it worthwhile. Collision detection is coded in, along with contingencies for when a wall that you¡¯re building hits plumbing.


    Father never had to micromanage anything. The code was all here to do it for him, painstakingly hand-coded. Looking at it, there must have been hundreds, if not thousands, of programmers who contributed. He¡¯s probably had a whole division of SynTech dedicated to coding this stuff for years.


    Idiot. Just because Jeff couldn¡¯t figure out how Father did it, he assumed the worst possible explanation. Not that I was much smarter, I gave it a shot at being true early on. Of course, I had my own reasons to want to think the worst about Father.


    There goes my last hope for my current memory breakdown not being my fault. I can¡¯t blame an AI that¡¯s eager to eat my brain for what¡¯s happened to my mind. Just my own eagerness to commit a ton of neurons to get a set of robotic superpowers. I guess that¡¯s sort of good news. Not having to worry about a world-ending, AI-powered nanobot swarm is nice. But it doesn¡¯t do anything for my feelings of guilt. I lost Mom¡¯s face all on my own. I can¡¯t even blame Father for it. If I had paced myself like he told me to, I¡¯d probably have thought of her more as I acclimated. I wouldn¡¯t have lost her.


    Maybe lunch will have dessert today. They do that sometimes. I could use some chocolate right now.


    I open my eyes and re-engage my bot senses. I¡¯ve been inside my electronic mind for hours. I didn¡¯t even realize it. Time is funny when you¡¯re in the zone with code. I¡¯m surprised that Evan didn¡¯t come grab me, but I¡¯m sure he figured I was working on something important. Forget about lunch. It¡¯s almost time for dinner. Better yet. They always have a dessert in the evenings.


    I reach out my senses toward the cafeteria. The smell sense on the bots isn¡¯t anything near the quality of a human nose, but it¡¯s enough that I can tell they¡¯re doing their stroganoff dinner tonight. I¡¯ve never been a big fan of fungus, and they go heavy on the mushrooms. I think I¡¯ll skip the entree tonight and just eat my feelings with some of the chocolate cake that I¡¯m picking up in there. Evan owes me at least one dessert for all the times I¡¯ve let him have mine.

 Sat 11/26 15:07:57 PST and Sun 11/27 11:16:15 PST

    Sat 11/26 15:07:57 PST


    I pull another few thousand bots in and add them to the rings emanating heat around me. The stones of the Residence steps beneath me are still freezing cold, but I¡¯m not bothered enough by it to worry about warming them. Maybe I should have grabbed a jacket, but what¡¯s the point of being a technowizard if I don¡¯t use my powers? I¡¯ve paid a dear enough price for them, so I¡¯m going to get all I can from these microscopic metal bugs.


    A stray paper with a handprint decorated like a turkey blows across the grass of the commons. Must be from the nursery kids¡¯ crafts earlier today. I snatch it out of the air with a thought and pull it into my hand. Millie¡¯s name is drawn in crayon at the bottom below the finger-tailfeathers on the construction paper. Inside the palm area, a neater hand wrote what she is grateful for: Father, the Butler Institute, Saving the World, Nanny, and Pumpkin Pie. As I look at it, I get a brief flash of memory, handing something not so different from this to Gramps at a Thanksgiving feast at his house. I must have been in kindergarten or preschool. I don¡¯t remember who else was there, but I suddenly recall eating so much pie that I threw up. I write up everything I can about it and link it in my database. They come like that sometimes, bits of recollection. If I can gather up enough of them, maybe I can piece together something like a real memory of my childhood.


    Thanksgiving weekend here has been less than festive for me. Even if the turkey dinner in the cafeteria hadn¡¯t been a sad parody of a real Thanksgiving, the day would have been ruined anyway since Evan wasn¡¯t there to eat it with me. He got his upgrade surgery that morning, and I haven¡¯t seen him since. Then Louise went in yesterday, and Andrea had hers today. My ploy to delay Jeff¡¯s procedure seems to have worked, since the appointment for his upgrade is gone from Father¡¯s calendar. Something to be grateful for there. But it¡¯s been lonely without my favorite siblings around.


    Oh well, more time for practicing with the bots. And working on my index. And digging through the mountains of code in my head.


    I¡¯ve been splitting my spare time this week between continuing my deep dive into the implant code and stoking Jeff¡¯s paranoia. The stories that I¡¯ve told him keep getting better with every whispered encounter. At this point I¡¯m not sure how much more I can accuse Father of doing without pushing too far and toppling the whole story. All of our illustrious progenitor¡¯s legendary exploits were public relations stunts to pacify the public about his secret deadly nanotech plans. All the SynTech facilities in the world are going to spring to life on his signal, pouring out bots to consume the universe. The only reason he had so many children was to make sure that he had enough test subjects.


    That last one hit a little close to home for me as I spun it out for Jeff.


    At least my work on the index is paying off. I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s realized how severe my memory problems are getting. It isn¡¯t even hard to keep up the facade of normality during class and meal times anymore. I spend the bare minimum effort that it takes to get my homework done, which isn¡¯t much with how powerful the programmed part of my brain is getting. I don¡¯t have to type up my work anymore since I adapted Jeff¡¯s old keyboard typing routine to feed straight from my index. Now I can transfer anything from my electric brain to external computers at around a hundred words per minute.


    And then there¡¯s my looming need to find out how Father shut down Chad¡¯s cloud. I¡¯ve devoted every minute I could and probably a lot more that I should have been sleeping to sitting alone in my room with my eyes closed, crawling through the cloud control code. I¡¯ve got my mental arms around the broad outlines of it now. If I had to, I could probably contribute to the codebase without messing it up too much. But figuring out Father¡¯s secret override capabilities work is still beyond me. I assume the part that sends the shutdown signal is only available on Father¡¯s side, but if I understand the cloud¡¯s architecture at all, there must be something on our side that accepts it. It¡¯s in there somewhere, I¡¯m sure of it. I just can¡¯t find it.


    The clock in my head hits 18:00. Evan is supposed to be out of the Residence any time now. It¡¯ll be good to see him again and end this vigil on the steps outside.


    It¡¯s another twenty minutes before I feel Evan¡¯s shape coming out of the medical wing. He¡¯s not in any rush, in fact he turns back to look at the infirmary doors three times before he reaches the foyer. Finally, I feel him turn toward the front doors of the Residence. I get up and turn around as the rush of warm air shoots around his massive frame.


    ¡°Aw, were you waiting for me?¡± he says as he sees me, his broad smile stretching across his face.


    ¡°I heard you¡¯d be out tonight, thought I¡¯d drop by.¡±


    Evan grabs me in a huge hug as he steps into me, lifting me a couple of centimeters off the ground as he does it. I¡¯ve missed this guy so much.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± I ask as he sets me down.


    ¡°Good, brother. The new implant is nice, and this recovery was way better than when I got the old stuff installed. I didn¡¯t even get any new scars. He hauled the old stuff out one microscopic piece at a time using the bots.¡±


    ¡°Nice. No complications then.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Evan says, but then he hesitates and gets a look in his eyes that I haven¡¯t seen there before. Something I feel like I¡¯ve seen in real life but can¡¯t remember anywhere outside of Hillside High¡¯s weekly episodes. ¡°Well, maybe one little complication.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really? And did you want to share something about this complication?¡±


    ¡°I met somebody,¡± he gushes. ¡°Her name is Valerie, and she is so, so hot. I¡¯m in love, man. We spent all day talking every day I was in there. I really think she¡¯s into me. She¡¯s only like five years older than I am. We¡¯ll probably be dating soon.¡±


    ¡°Butler kids mixing with the staff? Isn¡¯t that the sure way to get her fired?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Everything was entirely above board. You remember Mariana?¡± I give him a blank look, I can¡¯t tell if I don¡¯t remember her or if I never met her. The name doesn¡¯t ring a bell at all. ¡°The Brazilian girl that used to work in the barber shop with Allison? Used to dye her hair a different color every month?¡± I shake my head. ¡°Hmm, she must have gotten pregnant and left just before you got here. You¡¯d remember her. Anyway, she¡¯s back to deliver the baby and Valerie was waiting for her to give birth. She¡¯s a nurse or a midwife or something. The labor was taking forever and she had time to kill. So we were just talking. Totally innocent.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I can tell how innocent you think it was,¡± I laugh. ¡°You know she¡¯s probably on Father¡¯s hit list, right?¡±


    His smile disappears and his sturdy frame seems to deflate a few centimeters. ¡°Not cool, brother. Not cool.¡±


    I should have let him dream for a while before raining on his parade. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably true though,¡± he sighs after a moment. ¡°Damn dirty old man.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Sorry,¡± I say again. ¡°But there¡¯s hope. We¡¯re getting close. I¡¯ll check Father¡¯s calendar. He might not get around to her if he doesn¡¯t have her scheduled yet. Her name was Valerie? Got a last name?¡±


    ¡°Valerie Gil,¡± he says. ¡°One L on that, not like fish gills. It¡¯s Spanish.¡±


    ¡°Is she from somewhere Spanish-speaking?¡±


    ¡°Does California count?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Then yes. But she only speaks English and Vietnamese.¡±


    ¡°Vietnamese?¡± I ask.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Her Grandma taught her. She used to spend a lot of time with Ba when she was a kid, what with both her parents working all the time and all.¡±


    ¡°Ba being her Grandma?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. On her mom¡¯s side. Keep up, brother.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Yeah. My bad for failing with my psychic powers that were supposed to keep me current on everything you talked about when you were holed up in recovery.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make up for your weak telepathy by telling you every detail. But first, food. Cafeteria still open?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s even steak night. Your favorite.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s move then. Those ribeyes go fast, and I don¡¯t want to get stuck with a sirloin.¡±


    He slaps me on the shoulder as we head to dinner. It¡¯s good to have Evan back.


    Sun 11/27 11:16:15 PST


    I think I finally found it. It isn¡¯t obvious. Someone who learned to program in the seventies probably wrote it because this section of the code is littered with variables with crappy three letter names that probably only ever meant anything to the author. Minimal comments, and right near the hardware abstraction layer. The rest of the codebase was so nice. Why did the stuff I need have to live in the deepest dungeon of SynTech¡¯s code castle?


    I try to rip out the parts that receive Father¡¯s command code and let him shut down the bots, but without knowing exactly what the command packet looks like, I can¡¯t trace through the software to get to where the magic that disables the cloud lives. It¡¯s like trying to follow a single noodle through a bowl of ramen without pulling it out or rippling the broth. I spend hours searching and failing to find his failsafe, but with every change I make to try to diagnose his shutdown powers, I break ten new things.


    Dammit.


    This isn¡¯t the dungeon, this is the foundation, and any crack I put into it will leave my cloud useless. I finally give up and revert everything to the way it was, only adding a contingent function so that if the shutdown is ever targeted at me, I¡¯ll be able to capture the command packet and prevent it from hitting me twice.


    I open my eyes and turn my senses back on. It¡¯s past curfew. The cramps in my legs remind me that I¡¯ve been sitting here in the computer lab all day, then my stomach reminds me that I should have eaten something since dinner last night. My feet tingle as I stand, pins and needles jumping all over. I send a contingent of bots massaging down my legs, easing the nerves and stimulating blood flow. The prickles quickly subside.


    Outside now, I swing by the cafeteria, hoping to sneak something from the snack fridge, but the doors are locked and the lights are off. I could break in without too much trouble, but I don¡¯t know where the alarms are, and the last thing I want is to explain to anyone why I haven¡¯t eaten all day.


    My stomach grumbles again.


    Hmmm, does the construction library have anything for a situation like this?


    Haha, yeah it does. Something the documentation refers to as ¡°almost pure glucose, aerated for texture.¡± There aren¡¯t a lot of other food options in the construction library, so I might as well give it a go.


    BUILD(CANDY)


    I hold my hand out, and the bots construct a white, chalky-looking bar that could pass for candy if you don¡¯t look too closely. I don¡¯t want to know where the bots got the building blocks for it, so I don¡¯t let my mind wander to the garbage bins which are certainly the easiest source of simple carbohydrates around here. The manual says the sugar is purified during construction and makes a special note that it¡¯s definitely safe to eat. How reassuring.


    I bite in. It¡¯s stiff, but not rock-hard. Biting into it makes me think of packing foam made of cotton candy. Way too sweet. Not that I expected anything great from bot-printed food, but we should be able to do better than this.


    With my stomach mollified, if not satisfied, I head to the dorms. The big doors are locked, but I slip some bots under the door and push the handle from the other side, releasing the latch. I¡¯m surprised the lights are on in the common room at this hour. The place is clear except for the silent shape of a young woman sitting on one of the couches contemplating a blank TV screen. As she hears my footsteps, Andrea turns her head and looks at me. She¡¯s back from the medical wing a day early. I hope that¡¯s a good sign.


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re out. How did things go? Everything all right?¡± I ask as I step over and take the seat on the opposite corner of her couch.


    She gives me a forced-looking smile before the listless expression returns to her face. The last time I saw her looking this down was the day we all agreed to kill Father.


    ¡°Are you OK?¡±


    She shrugs.


    ¡°Did something go wrong? Are you hurt? Implant problems?¡±


    She shakes her head.


    ¡°Want to talk about it?¡± I prod. ¡°Something¡¯s eating you, I can see that.¡±


    Her hand lifts and her fingers twist, but nothing appears. She gives the air between us a dark glare and rolls her eyes.


    ¡°Ah, the new interface broke all of your old controls, huh.¡±


    She nods sadly.


    ¡°So no more holograms until you get recalibrated?¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°You could always try talking again.¡± I suggest. ¡°Father says you should be able to.¡±


    She shakes her head, eyeing me as if I had suggested she eat a bug.


    ¡°OK, sorry. Want me to grab you a notepad or something?¡±


    She pulls one out from behind her back along with a thick black marker. Of course she would have thought of that already.


    The front page is already scrawled in big bold letters with Please leave me alone. I¡¯m mourning the loss of my creations.


    I try with limited success not to snort with laughter. Dramatic much, Andrea?


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about it,¡± I reassure her. ¡°The new controls are great. You¡¯ll be able to do so much more with them.¡±


    She flips the page and scribbles on it. Not mine. I didn¡¯t make. Then with a significant look at me she adds: My ART!


    ¡°I understand. But it¡¯s just the tools, not the art. Painters don¡¯t need to make their own brushes to have their masterpieces be their own. Musicians don¡¯t have to build their own pianos. You¡¯ll still be able to make whatever you want to make, you¡¯ll just have a head start. And you¡¯ll be able to customize it however you want, just like the old stuff, only better. You¡¯ll have more built-in support for everything, better feedback, tighter controls. I¡¯ll bet you desserts for a month that you¡¯re going to love it within the next few weeks.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t look satisfied, but she shrugs and tosses the pad onto the couch between us. We sit in silence for a while. Eventually she turns and picks up the pad again.


    What about you-know-what?


    ¡°Not an issue. I used that same trick you did when you made the peephole, and I¡¯ve been looking through the software for weeks. Jeff is wrong.¡±


    She flips to a blank page.


    Sure?


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure. All the stuff that made him think there was adaptive AI running on the bots was just code. Lots and lots of code.¡±


    She smiles a little. Her eyes lose focus for a moment, then close. I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s hacking admin status to check for herself.


    ¡°Search for a file called WallBuilder in the construction utilities, somewhere near line two thousand,¡± I offer helpfully. ¡°It¡¯ll show you how exactly Father did the trick of building the wall around the pipes as Jeff built them. His other evidences have similar solutions. I checked them all.¡±


    A quiet minute passes, then her smile broadens, and her eyes open.


    ¡°Yeah, see?¡± I say.


    She nods.


    ¡°Make sure to hold off any tweaking until after the calibrations are done. Father might notice you¡¯ve been modifying admin-only code when he hooks you up in debug mode. And don¡¯t tell Jeff. The admin hack is secret keepers only.¡±


    She nods vigorously and closes her eyes again. A moment later they reopen. She flips the page and scrawls Thanks.


    ¡°Any time.¡±


    Jeff should know. About the AI. He¡¯s so worried.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll take care of it,¡± I lie. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    The last thing I¡¯m going to do is anything that would wreck my plans for Jeff. But there¡¯s no way Andrea would go along with what I¡¯m planning. It was hard enough to get Louise on board, and she¡¯s got a strong ruthless streak to her when she needs it. I haven¡¯t even started on Evan yet. Andrea¡¯s got a strong sense of right and wrong, but she doesn¡¯t ask too many questions. It¡¯ll be much easier to just convince her that Jeff is just playing along when it''s time.


    She nods and gets up. I follow suit and turn to head to the boys¡¯ wing. I hear a clap behind me and turn to see Andrea with her arms out. I step over and give her a hug. I don¡¯t remember ever being hugged by anyone here at the campus before.


    It¡¯s nice.

 Wed 11/30 14:22:57 PST and Thu 12/15 12:41:19 PST

    Wed 11/30 14:22:57 PST


    It¡¯s good to be back in the real world instead of living in the code in my head all the time. The last few days have flown by. Sometimes literally, as I¡¯ve been practicing with the flight options. I can see why Chad likes it so much. There¡¯s an adrenaline rush from cruising at low altitude and high speed while encased in a protective shell of nanobots. The flight suit that the bots form is customizable, which is cool. Tweaking the color scheme is easy, and adding style details isn¡¯t hard either. I go with a red and gold pattern in tribute to an old comic book hero I used to love. I have to admit that I had to look him up. I had vague memories that I liked him, but I couldn¡¯t remember what he looked like.


    It¡¯s funny that I could remember him at all, but then again, it didn¡¯t come back to me until after I¡¯d armored up and taken my first flight around. I think the memory triggered when it was prompted, like some others have. That gives me hope that I can regain more of my past if I can get some reminders. I bet if I looked through my old stuff that Grammy and Gramps are keeping at their house, more would come back to me. I¡¯m tempted to have them send it here, but I don¡¯t want to be distracted by it right now. Not until I¡¯ve killed him.


    Anyway, the nursery kids are just as delighted by my aerobatics as they were with Chad¡¯s. I take another loop around the commons, my blur of red and gold causing a gust of wind across the Residence steps where a crowd of little ones sit with their nannies. The women seem to enjoy the show too. I wonder if Chad was showing off for them instead of the kids. I¡¯ve seen the way he looks at them when he thinks no one sees. After what I¡¯ve learned, I¡¯m not worried about impressing them. I have no interest in hooking up with anyone that¡¯s already part of Father¡¯s baby-making operation. From the way Chad¡¯s eyes linger on them, I don¡¯t think he has any such reservations.


    And my douchebag brother is done now with his elaborate stretching routine out on the grass. He suits up and joins me in flying laps around the commons. He¡¯s wearing the less cool standard flight suit, a sleek thing in shiny black with minimal adornments and a rounded helmet. The kids get more excited and whoop and holler for us to race. We do, and he wins. Not surprising, he¡¯s spent a lot more time practicing with the flight suit than I have.


    ¡°Good race, brother,¡± he declares as we touch down and our helmets dissolve. His flight suit melts away as he reaches out for a handshake. I let my suit go and take his proffered hand. I even force myself to give him a smile.


    ¡°You too.¡±


    ¡°Have you thought about what you want to focus on for the next few years?¡± he says with what feels like practiced casualness. Something about it makes me feel like this is some kind of job interview.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve got a spot waiting for me at Stanford that they held for another year, so maybe that. Why do you ask?¡±


    Chad laughs and slaps me on the back in a way-too-familiar way.


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking much too small, Noah,¡± he declares with that confident smile of his that still makes me want to punch him. ¡°We¡¯ve got a calling much higher than that. I¡¯m going back to Africa soon. I¡¯m going to do what we did in Ethiopia everywhere that I can find people that need clean water.¡±


    Father¡¯s cryptic note about Chad leaving triggers from my index and pops up in my overlay. So that¡¯s what he was talking about. Is Chad really leaving? It seems almost too good to be true.


    ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± I tell him, kicking on my polygraph functions. I trust Chad about as far as I can throw him. ¡°Is Father going to be all right without you? It seems like he counts on you a lot around here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been planning this with him. The whole thing was actually his idea. As long as a few of us stay here with him, the rest of us can go out and take on the missions that we think are most important. I¡¯ve been setting up my support team for the last few weeks. I should be ready to go at the start of the new year.¡±


    Pulse steady, no changes in eye dilation, blood pressure normal. All true, as far as my cloud¡¯s analytics can tell.


    ¡°I wondered where you¡¯ve been lately. Well, congratulations,¡± I tell him sincerely. ¡°Good for you.¡±


    Good for him, better for me. As much as I dislike him, I don¡¯t want to kill Chad. But I hadn¡¯t been able to figure out any way to avoid it. There was no way I could have kept him on the sidelines when things went down. This is better. I just need to delay the plan a few weeks. I think I can do that. I¡¯m not past the point of no return with Jeff yet.


    ¡°Thanks, Noah. One more thing. I want you to keep an eye on things here for me when I¡¯m gone, would you?¡± he asks in that patronizing tone of his. ¡°Father needs a lot of help. He¡¯s not the young man he once was.¡±


    I nearly laugh. The irony is almost too much. And it¡¯s not like he ever knew Father as a young man. He was over fifty when Chad and I were born.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I answer, carefully keeping the smirk from my face. ¡°I¡¯ll help him out with whatever he needs.¡±


    ¡°Great.¡± He flashes that smug too-handsome smile of his. ¡°I¡¯ll let him know. Hey, I think the kids want another show, you up for it?¡±


    I focus on the eyes looking in their direction. I think one of the more enterprising five-year-olds is starting to take bets from his class.


    ¡°Yeah, why not?¡±


    With a thought, I encase myself back in red and gold, complete with the iconic visor. The eye slits are way too narrow to be useful, but I don¡¯t care. I only use my bot vision when I do stuff like this anyway, and the fashion statement is worth it. Raising two fists high, more for the audience on the steps than for any practical reason, I jump and rocket into the air. We don¡¯t actually go all that fast in these things, less than the top speed of a decent car, but you don¡¯t need to actually be that fast when you¡¯re flying low to appear to be moving like a bullet. The little ones and their nannies cheer as we start a lap around the campus.


    Chad¡¯s suit isn¡¯t as stylish as mine, but he makes up for the lack of flair by throwing in some flourishes that I wouldn¡¯t even think to try. His quick twirls and corkscrews earn him big cheers but slow him down a little. We both touch down at nearly the same instant back in front of the Residence to a thunderous applause.


    ¡°Very good, my sons! Very good!¡± Father¡¯s voice rings out over the clapping and squealing of the children. He makes his way down the steps, careful not to step on the youngest ones as nannies shepherd them back inside through the big double doors. We turn to meet him, suits melting off again.


    ¡°Have you discussed the good news with Noah, Chad?¡±


    He looks back and forth between us, his proud dad smile filling his visage.


    ¡°Yes, Father. I just told him before that flight.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. Noah, once he is gone, are you willing to spare a few hours each day to help me?¡±


    Increased access? More opportunities to find a good chance to kill you? And no Chad around? Yes, please!


    ¡°Yeah, I can do that,¡± I answer in as casual a tone as I can manage.


    ¡°Excellent!¡± Father says jubilantly. ¡°I was thinking that some sort of celebration would be in order to mark the occasion, don¡¯t you two agree?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father,¡± Chad says.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Good, good!¡± He gives us one more pleased grin. ¡°Please get together with Mrs. Hastings and make the arrangements. I¡¯m sure the two of you can put something memorable together in time for Chad¡¯s departure.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Father,¡± Chad gushes, basking in Father¡¯s approval.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The old man turns and ambles back into the Residence. Chad and I follow behind him to find Mrs. Hastings and get started on the party planning.


    Thu 12/15 12:41:19 PST


    Evan, Louise, and Andrea look so tired these days. Even with alternating and only going in half-days, it¡¯s been a grind for them to get recalibrated with the new implant. Andrea finished yesterday and Evan wrapped up this morning. Louise is going in again for another session this afternoon. She still doesn¡¯t have an end date. She seems to be having a tougher time with it. They¡¯ve all got the bigger phones, but I don¡¯t think Louise has enabled most of the new features yet.


    Andrea, on the other hand, is happily restoring her old control set to work on the new system as we sit around our table in the cafeteria. She stares at one long finger, flexes it partially, extends it, flexes again, extends, flexes, stares blankly for a few seconds, then repeats on the next finger. I wonder if I looked like that when I was setting things up. Probably, but infinitely less graceful. Even her hands seem to dance as she moves.


    ¡°Hey Andrea, are you going to have your part ready in time for the big party?¡± I ask her.


    She nods. The hand that she just finished starts weaving and ribbons of color form in the air.


    ¡°Great. Thanks again for helping. Let me know if you need anything.¡±


    She nods again, smiling broadly as she finishes the fingers on her other hand. My predictions came true and her hesitance about the new implant has evaporated. We get up from the table, and she tosses the notepad she¡¯s been carrying around into the recycling bin on the way out of the cafeteria. I guess she¡¯s ready to go back to a purely visual vocabulary again.


    ¡°How about your part, Evan?¡± I ask as we reach the grass of the commons.


    ¡°Almost done with it. The highlights of his whole life, ready to roast him.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too rough on him,¡± I laugh. ¡°We don¡¯t want him to kill you before he goes.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, brother. I¡¯m keeping it light.¡±


    ¡°How come I didn¡¯t get a part?¡± asks Louise.


    ¡°Because you can barely walk and talk at the same time these days. You just focus on getting your implant working again.¡±


    She scowls at me, but then yawns. ¡°I¡¯d totally punch you if you weren¡¯t right.¡± She glances off to the side. ¡°Anyway, time to go back to the lab for more fun with Father.¡±


    ¡°Have a good brain adjustment.¡±


    ¡°You know I will,¡± she responds snarkily as she heads to the Research Center.


    ¡°You still want to come with me out to the boonies?¡± I ask Evan once she¡¯s gone.


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯ve got time. I¡¯m not growing any bigger than what I¡¯ve got, but I¡¯ll provide you with my scintillating company.¡±


    He follows me as we head out through the front gates. I zip up my jacket against the cold desert wind. Since my last check-in with Father, I¡¯ve had access to come and go as I please. The desert outside the compound walls is a great testing ground for all sorts of things.


    BUILD(SAND-BUGGY)


    My bots spread out to gather minerals and create a solar-powered two-seater buggy mostly made out of something that looks and feels a lot like sandstone. Made from sand, for travel on sand. With the winter sun high in the sky, its solar roof starts charging and is ready to go in a few minutes. I hop onto the hard driver¡¯s seat and once Evan gets situated, I start driving toward the mountains west of campus.


    ¡°You sure you want to do this?¡± he asks. ¡°It would be incredibly stupid if you¡¯re wrong and Jeff was right.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely certain,¡± I reassure him. ¡°But if I¡¯m wrong, go ahead and kill me before the swarm AI makes me act like Chad.¡±


    Evan laughs. ¡°You start acting like Chad, I¡¯ll kill you just on principle. One Chad is already too many.¡±


    ¡°For sure.¡±


    We drive in silence for a while, bumping across the sandy wasteland. The suspension on this thing leaves a lot to be desired, but if I was worried about a smooth ride I would have borrowed something with four-wheel drive from Father¡¯s garage. Something about the situation feels familiar, me and Evan and a bumping vehicle moving across the desert, but I can¡¯t remember why. Evan gets a serious look on his face as we go.


    ¡°Are we really doing your Jeff plan?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to come up with anything better, have you?¡±


    He just sighs and we spend another couple of minutes in silence.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a really shitty thing to do.¡±


    ¡°I know, brother,¡± I tell him. ¡°I know. If there were any other way that wouldn¡¯t get some or all of us killed, I¡¯d jump on it. But I¡¯ve seen what he can do. You¡¯ll see it soon when you get the weapons training. There¡¯s no way we¡¯d all survive doing it any other way.¡±


    Another dozen minutes go by in silence. The mineral-rich foothills loom ahead of us. We¡¯re close enough now. The party tricks I¡¯m planning are the perfect pretext for the cloud growth I¡¯ve wanted to do anyway.


    ¡°All right. I¡¯m starting. We¡¯ll know for sure whether Jeff is right in a few.¡±


    GROW


    Evan watches me calmly, his face still full of sadness at what we¡¯re going to do to our brother. The sensation of the growth is different than with the old control system. Where before it was a separate patch of skin growing, now it¡¯s me growing. I push it for a long time, letting the bots gather and build. I wish it were warmer. I¡¯d be able to grow so much faster with more energy. The sky darkens as my bots start catching almost all the light above us. I push on, creating more bots as fast as the sunlight I¡¯m collecting lets me do it. The air gets even colder as the new bots suck in all the ambient heat that they can. It feels amazing, like I¡¯m gigantic.


    Evan pulls on gloves and starts talking about Valerie again. I¡¯m sure she¡¯s great, but no one could be as amazing as he thinks she is. I mostly just nod and listen. He¡¯s really head-over-heels for that girl. After an hour or so, he runs out of things to tell me about her and goes quiet. I¡¯m still reveling in the additional senses as my cloud grows and grows.


    ¡°Feel any different?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Better. Like I can lift a mountain. But it¡¯s the same kind of feeling the bots always give me. Just more of it.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure you¡¯re past the critical mass point?¡±


    Instead of answering, I pull in my new bots and let them start piling up on the ground near the buggy. After a few minutes, they¡¯re all gathered in from the kilometers around us where they¡¯ve been gathering heat, light, and minerals. The pile is enormous, a cone at least four meters across and two meters high at its peak.


    ¡°Well, it might not be quite a dump truck full,¡± Evan says, ¡°but it¡¯s probably big enough. All right, I¡¯m convinced. Jeff is as crazy as you say.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure what a dump truck has to do with anything, but if he¡¯s satisfied I¡¯m good.


    ¡°It¡¯s still a really shitty thing to do to him, crazy or not.¡±


    I look over at Evan. His visage is tortured.


    ¡°It is. But it will work. You know it will.¡±


    He nods glumly. I need to get him fully on board.


    ¡°Oh, hey, I checked Father¡¯s calendar and I have good news. Valerie hasn¡¯t been on it yet. You know, for one of his future mother meetings.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± he asks. A look of relief starts to overtake the pain on his face.


    ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s not scheduled until the end of January,¡± I tell him. ¡°So, as long as we stick to the plan, he¡¯ll never touch her.¡±


    That clinches it. I can almost feel his spine stiffening, his resolve growing firm. I let my cloud grow for another hour, luxuriating in the rich flow of sensations from my uncountable extra appendages. I¡¯m not sure if there¡¯s a hard limit to how big I can go. But I can only allocate so many bots for any given task, so unless I want to build a city or something, I don¡¯t see the point of growing more.


    ¡°You mind driving the buggy back?¡± I ask him, getting out and stepping toward the pile. ¡°I¡¯m going to take the slow way home, get comfortable with my new cloud on the way.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, OK,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re sure you¡¯re not getting your brain eaten by the swarm?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m great,¡± I assure him. ¡°Better than ever.¡±


    He nods and says goodbye, and starts driving back toward campus.


    I step to the edge of the pile, turn around, and lean backwards. I keep my body straight until my center of mass passes the tipping point, and my body collapses back to be caught by the bed of bots. I let the mass of them cradle my organic self and carry me back to the campus, crawling like a horde of metal ants as they charge up their batteries using the last rays of the day¡¯s sun. It¡¯s slower than the buggy, slower than flying, but it¡¯s a very relaxing way to travel as I let myself fully acclimate to the phenomenal sensations that the bigger cloud brings. It doesn¡¯t even hurt. It¡¯s like my brain is made for this now.


    As I let my infinite tiny workers carry me, I run through the preparations in my index for Chad¡¯s big farewell. Between Mrs. Hastings doing the bulk of the setup and the help I recruited from my siblings, the only prep I have left is the presentation I¡¯m supposed to give. Chad provided some really terrible text that he wanted included, but I need to decide on the orchestration of it. I close my eyes and script things out for a while as my swarming self carries my biological core over the sand. I think it will be memorable. I hope so anyway. It¡¯ll probably be the last good memory most of us have for a while.


    When I arrive back home, I park the bulk of the new growth outside the campus walls, spreading it thin over kilometers of rocky sand . A trail of bots automatically spreads along the path between the giant mass and me, keeping the dynamic mesh network connected to my phone. Jeff shouldn¡¯t be able to see more than a tiny fraction of what I¡¯ve got out there, even if he bothers to look outside the walls.


    So close now. It¡¯s all so close.

 Sat 12/24 18:57:06 PST and Sat 12/31 17:07:15 PST

    Sat 12/24 18:57:06 PST


    ¡°So there¡¯s really no Christmas here?¡± I ask Marc. ¡°Like, there¡¯s no magical transformation that they do while everyone is sleeping where they put up a Christmas tree in the Residence and we all open presents in the morning or something?¡±


    He stops pacing around the common room and looks at me with a mix of incredulity and pity, like I asked him if the tooth fairy were real. ¡°Noah, I hate to have to be the one that tells you this, but there is no Santa.¡±


    I take a deep breath. He means well. I know he does.


    ¡°I know that, Marc,¡± I say slowly. ¡°But lots of people who know that still celebrate Christmas.¡±


    He pauses for a moment. ¡°Oh.¡± Another long pause. ¡°I get it. You must be one of those people that believes in Jesus. I saw that on some shows. You probably think we need the baby with all the animals and stuff. I¡¯m really sorry to have to tell you this, brother, but the magic baby isn¡¯t real either.¡±


    ¡°Marc,¡± I say as patiently as I can. ¡°Lots of people that aren¡¯t religious still celebrate Christmas. I mean, I¡¯m as godless as the next heathen, but I¡¯ve had Christmas every year of my life until now.¡± At least I think I have. That feels right, even if I can¡¯t remember the details of a single one of them. ¡°So I¡¯m just asking if there¡¯s any kind of Christmas surprise waiting for me in the morning, or is tomorrow just another day around here.¡±


    ¡°I think I get it. Like how in the Hillside High Christmas special they all celebrated it, even though only two of them went to church to do it.¡±


    ¡°Sure, yeah, like that. So do we do that here?¡±


    I should have started with Hillside. I realize that now that he¡¯s reminded me of how much he uses it as a reference for the outside world. I throw a reminder into my index entry for Marc to use the show whenever I need to explain anything to him. Of course, now I¡¯ll need to add an entry for that stupid show, since I had completely forgotten that it existed.


    ¡°No,¡± he says, shaking his head. ¡°Father says religion is just for stupid people. I mean, he doesn¡¯t say it like that, but I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s what he means. But anyway, yeah, we don¡¯t do any of the religious holidays they have on the shows.¡±


    No presents then, not that I actually need anything. No Santa for all those little kids. No celebration at all. Nothing. I didn¡¯t really expect anything big. I have Father¡¯s disdain for religion down as part of my index entry for him, but somehow I still figured there would be something.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s Christmas really like?¡± Marc asks, settling into the corner of the couch opposite me. ¡°Does everyone really give each other presents? I mean, you had like a bunch of kids at your school, right? Like more than a hundred? How do you know what to get for everyone?¡±


    Honestly, I¡¯d love to answer him if it meant I could remember any of it. But rack my brain as I might, I can barely coax out a vague memory of Mom and a Christmas tree back home. I think my grandparents were there too at some point. ¡°I guess it¡¯s different for everyone, but I don¡¯t think anyone gets presents for everyone at their school. I think it¡¯s a family and close friends thing for most people.¡±


    Instead of satisfying him, that just sends him into another series of questions that my brain isn¡¯t qualified to answer anymore. I fend them off as best I can and realize how terribly deficient what I have in my database is for any kind of real conversation. My classes have given me a false sense of success since I always know the material in advance so I can prepare. I fake it as best I can, and if Marc notices anything is off he doesn¡¯t show it.


    At least I have my weekly call with Grammy and Gramps tomorrow.


    Merry Christmas to me.


    Merry Christmas to you too, Mom, wherever you are.


    Sat 12/31 17:07:15 PST


    Stepping out of the dorms and into the decorated commons blasts me with a sensory overload that forces me to turn the feedback from my implant all the way down. Haven¡¯t had to do that in a while. Haven¡¯t seen this many people in one place in longer than my memory goes back, either. I make a note to thank Mrs. Hastings, who did an incredible job turning the campus commons into a festival. The night is lit up with colored lights strung between the buildings. Tiki torches line the edges of the grass and overhead heaters on long poles dot the commons, warming the cold winter evening to what my overlay shows as a pleasant 20¡ã C.


    Huge speakers on either end of the field blast catchy music, the throbbing bass strong enough to shake the ground near them. Ahead of me, a crew of chefs at big charcoal grills cook up strips of meat with Ethiopian-style seasonings on skewers. I grab one as I pass by and take a bite. It¡¯s not all that authentic, but it¡¯s very tasty. The nursery kids mob the long tables with platters of sweet flatbreads and small pastries, their nannies hanging back and chatting with each other. A small army of caterers bustle all over in their neat white uniforms.


    The bar set up in front of the cafeteria building serves mixed drinks to the staff, who all seem to be enjoying themselves. Mrs. Jones giggles a little as she introduces me to her husband, a handsome, broad-shouldered man with silver hair. He seems nice enough and we chat for a moment. Mr. Johnson looks like he came solo, but the way he¡¯s flirting with Andrea¡¯s math teacher and tossing back shots, he may not leave that way. I guess this is as good a place to celebrate New Year¡¯s Eve as anywhere.


    Marc is the life of the party. He bounces between groups of kids and staff alike, entertaining everyone with his stories and jokes. Jeff and Louise sit off to the side on the Residence steps a few meters apart from each other. Louise seems exhausted. The work to get the new implant interface running must still be working her over. Jeff is just being antisocial. Andrea is up on the small stage, dancing and projecting lights and colors high up into the night sky. It¡¯s like a fireworks show, but better, and it keeps going on and on as the festivities continue. She even has realistic boom and crackle sounds timed to the holographic explosion. The younger kids are entranced by it, screaming with delight at every new display. Eventually, Andrea wraps up her show. Evan steps up and takes the microphone.


    ¡°Let¡¯s all give a big hand to Chad,¡± he booms. ¡°Graduating from our little institution and heading out into the big outside world!¡±


    Everyone bursts into applause and the chatter dies down. Chad, mingling near the food tables with some of the younger nannies, waves and grins at the attention. The crowd settles in to listen as Evan starts talking about Chad as a kid in the nursery. How he¡¯s always been a leader, always been the biggest believer in the mission, always helped out Father, and on and on.


    He¡¯s got some funny bits about how Chad wouldn¡¯t eat anything spicier than mashed potatoes when he was little. The jab about Chad crying for a week non-stop when they built the dorms and my class moved out of the Residence seems a little rough, but that¡¯s probably because my experience wasn¡¯t far from that, and I moved in when I was over a decade older. Different circumstances, but still. The rest of the kids take it in good humor. I guess it wasn¡¯t an unusual thing, and they¡¯ve all moved past it. He tells plenty of jokes both kind and cutting from experiences in the last couple of years, a lot of them about what a suck-up Chad is to Father.


    It¡¯s not a bad roast overall, even if it was pretty heavy on the praise. Evan is almost as funny as Marc when he puts some effort into it. Mrs. Hastings works her way through the crowd of kids and staff and nudges me.


    ¡°She has arrived.¡±


    Excellent. I hope Chad appreciates the effort I put into this surprise for him. I thank Mrs. Hastings, then make my way to the stage and take the mic from Evan¡¯s outstretched hand.


    ¡°We have a special guest tonight,¡± I declare to the assembled throng. ¡°Back by popular demand, Chad¡¯s own morning nanny, Laurie Brown!¡±


    Chad looks up and sees the middle-aged woman step up from the back of the stage. He bolts toward her, almost knocking over a few younger sibs in the process.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Nanny Laurie!¡± he yells, jumping onto the stage and folding the woman into a huge hug. I swear I can see him as a five-year-old in those motions.


    ¡°Oh Chad, look at you. You¡¯re all grown up!¡± she exclaims.


    The kids go nuts, clapping and cheering. Some of the nannies tear up, especially the ones with kids on the older end of the nursery. Some just stare at their wards. A few get angry looks or step away out of the commons. Chad and Laurie disengage, each with some tears in their eyes. They step off the stage to talk and catch up. Time to start my show.


    ¡°Mrs. Hastings, the lights please?¡±


    THE-BIG-SHOW


    My robotic self surges upwards, sending a huge mass of bots rushing into the sky. The lights all turn off except the flickering tiki torches. A massive model of Chad¡¯s face appears in the sky with his name in big bold letters below it. A map of the earth replaces him, zooming in on Africa.


    ¡°Chad has already saved the lives of many people and changed the lives of many more,¡± I announce. I pause for another round of applause, then spread pictures of Chad from our trip out across the sky. I hold each for several seconds, then let it fade out as I slide it away from the map. I wait for the clapping to die down before I continue. ¡°Tomorrow, Chad heads off to continue making a difference in the world.¡±


    Dots appear, thousands of them, speckled all over the map.


    ¡°Chad and his team have been working hard to identify every significant city, town and village on the African continent that lacks access to clean water or electricity. He¡¯s leaving in the morning on a multi-year mission to make sure that every single one has clean, sustainable water sources and enough solar capacity to ensure they have all the power they need for a generation.¡±


    The crowd cheers again, with some of the kids breaking into chants of ¡°preserve life, end suffering, elevate humanity.¡± I let it die down, but then another chant of ¡°Chad, Chad, Chad,¡± breaks out. He¡¯s drinking it in as he sits there with his nanny, beaming like it¡¯s the best day of his life. It probably is. Eventually, it quiets down enough for me to go on to the boring parts that Chad insisted on. I lay out the detailed description of Chad¡¯s operation including lots of statistics and descriptions of each of the countries where he¡¯ll be working. The images that my cloud forms above us alternate between maps, statistics, and more pictures of Chad from our trip.


    Having a teleprompter installed in your head makes it a lot easier to be a good public speaker. Even so, the material Chad wanted here is hardly riveting. The younger kids lose interest after the first few minutes. Most of the others stop caring halfway through. Chad still looks like he¡¯s loving it, so I continue on all the way to the end. I guess since I¡¯m going to kill his hero while he¡¯s gone, it¡¯s the least I could do.


    By the time it¡¯s over, I don¡¯t think anyone but Chad is listening. I wrap it up to a round of applause that I think I only got because everyone is glad it¡¯s finally over. As I step down from the stage, I send the bulk of my bots back to spread out across the sand outside the walls. Father clasps my shoulder from behind.


    ¡°Well done, Noah.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, turning to face him.


    ¡°Exceptional work on the projections. I see that you made a few improvements to the stock video projection libraries. The text was a bit dry, but I¡¯m guessing Chad had a hand in that?¡± He glances at me with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye.


    ¡°Yeah. Well, the long parts of it anyway,¡± I laugh.


    ¡°Indeed. I recognized his diction.¡± He laughs too. ¡°It was kind of you to let him have that.¡±


    ¡°Well, Evan¡¯s roast was my idea, so I figured this would balance things out.¡±


    ¡°And bringing in the nanny as well?¡± Father asks, absently taking a small honeyed pastry from one of the serving tables and nibbling the corner of it.


    ¡°Yeah, I hope it was OK that I asked for it. Mrs. Hastings said you haven¡¯t ever allowed a reconnection like that.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Father replies, looking around at his many sons and daughters. ¡°I believe that when the children are grown enough to live without their nannies, a clean break is easiest for all involved. But this was a nice gesture. I might allow this as a tradition as more of you children are ready to graduate to full-time saviors of the world. I¡¯ll have to consider it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯d like that.¡± The whole idea of cutting kids off from their primary source of affection when they¡¯re that young seems needlessly cruel to me, but hopefully soon it won¡¯t be something that his policies can dictate anymore. With any luck, he¡¯ll be gone before he can do much more emotional damage to my siblings.


    ¡°Enjoy the party, Noah,¡± he says, oblivious to my murderous intent. ¡°You certainly deserve to with the effort that you put into it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    He puts a hand on my shoulder again and smiles.


    ¡°Chad¡¯s flight is early tomorrow. I¡¯ll see him off at the airstrip, then return to the campus. Can you meet me at my office at 8:30?¡±


    ¡°Sure, but what about my classes?¡±


    ¡°Noah, you know everything you need to know for now. If you want to continue your studies with Mrs. Jones and Mr. Johnson, I¡¯ll retain your teachers as long as you like and you can meet with them on any schedule you prefer. But your education is no longer your highest priority.¡±


    Did I just graduate too?


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him. ¡°Let me think about it, would you?¡±


    ¡°Certainly. Just let me know in the next week or two, so I know whether to let Mr. Johnson finally return to his retirement. In the meantime, you and I have work to do. I¡¯ll see you at 8:30 sharp.¡±


    He turns and walks slowly into the Residence. The party goes on until very late. I don¡¯t know how many of these delicious little pastries I¡¯ve had, but I think it was about three too many. The nannies herd the nursery kids back to the Residence, then seem to disappear like magic. The teachers and other staff start trickling out, most of them heading down to the underground parking beneath the Residence. Chad is still over on the edge of the stage talking with Nanny Laurie. Eventually, she gives him a hug and heads out too.


    Things settle down to about like a lively summer evening on the commons, but with more food and better music. A couple of the guys from class two try to sneak some booze from the bar but get spotted just before they grab a bottle. The bartender should have been able to identify them, but Andrea provided them with floating yellow smiley face masks right after she heard them getting caught. They make a run for it, their floating masks struggling to keep up with their faces until they disappear into the dorms. Louise laughs and begs out next, following them back to the dorms for some sleep.


    One by one, other sibs drop off as they get tired until just a few of us from the oldest class are still up, sitting in a rough circle near the Residence steps. The caterers start packing up the food and tables, loading trucks just outside the front gates of the campus.


    ¡°Well, I better get some rest,¡± Chad declares as he gets up. ¡°I¡¯ve got to fly out early tomorrow. Happy New Year, everyone.¡±


    ¡°Good night, man,¡± Evan says. ¡°See you when you come back to visit.¡±


    Chad takes a few steps toward the dorms, then turns back and walks right up to me.


    ¡°You take care of him, Noah. Father, I mean. He needs more help than he likes to admit, and you need to be there to give it to him.¡±


    I force a smile. ¡°Of course, brother. I¡¯ll be his right hand man until you get back here.¡±


    He smiles back, then leans forward and grips me in an unexpected hug. I restrain my instincts to push him away and awkwardly give his muscular back a couple of pats.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says softly, right into my ear. His breath is uncomfortably hot against my face. ¡°I know you¡¯ll do a good job. You always do everything right. Be his right hand man.¡±


    He finally lets me go and says another goodnight to everyone. Andrea echoes it with an oversized floating green hand waving goodbye and one more pop of fireworks. The rest of the sibs start following not too far behind him. Jeff is the last to move. He¡¯s just now rising from the same spot on the steps where he spent the whole party.


    ¡°Noah. A word, if you please,¡± he calls out to me.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I reply, hanging back as Evan and Andrea start walking to the dorms.


    ¡°That was a very dangerous thing you did,¡± he says quietly, ¡°Allowing your cloud to grow large enough to perform those projections.¡±


    He shakes his head in his mechanical way. Like a human puppet.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Maybe the AI is clouding my judgment. We should act soon,¡± I answer with feigned urgency.


    ¡°Agreed. Make certain that you reduce your cloud as soon as possible. They could awaken to sentience at any time.¡±


    He slowly stands, the motion more jarring and mechanical than ever.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I lie. ¡°I¡¯ve already started deconstruction. But it¡¯s not me you need to keep an eye on, it¡¯s Father. He¡¯s the key to everything and he¡¯s getting ready for something big.¡±


    He gives me a knowing nod of agreement and turns away. ¡°Be careful, Noah.¡± His voice drips with fear.


    ¡°I will,¡± I whisper.


    His sunken eyes linger on mine as he turns and glides toward the dorms. He was gaunt before, but he looks emaciated now. He¡¯s also started to smell less than fresh. I think he¡¯s been neglecting some basic personal hygiene. He¡¯s not doing well. I hate myself for what I¡¯ve done to him. I hate myself more for what I¡¯m going to do to him.


    DOPE-ME

 Sun 01/01 08:29:36 PST and Fri 01/06 18:43:17 PST

    Sun 01/01 08:29:36 PST


    I feel Father in his office in the Research Center as soon as I enter the building. Stretching my cloud out to the size I did feels like it unlocked a better sense of space as the many little parts of me spread out everywhere near me. I¡¯ve never been to his office, but I instinctively know every hallway and turn to take to get there. The door is ajar as I walk up to it. I knock as I enter.


    ¡°Good morning, Father,¡± I greet him, trying not to sound nervous.


    ¡°Ah, Noah,¡± he says, looking up from one of the several screens on his desk. ¡°Right on time. Thank you for being punctual. We have quite a lot to do, and you have quite a lot to learn.¡±


    I glance around his office. It seems oddly familiar for a place I¡¯ve never been.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get right to it then.¡± His cheerful, crooked smile fills his wrinkled face. ¡°Did Chad have time to brief you at all? I asked him to, but I know he had quite a few preparations he still needed to make.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t say that he did,¡± I answer, ¡°other than just asking me to help.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll give him a pass. He has had a lot on his mind with finalizing his team and preparing his first operations. Enough about your brother though. Here, come look over here. You¡¯ll need some context.¡±


    One wall of his huge office is completely covered by a giant whiteboard. The ink looks fresh in some places, in others it¡¯s faded and looks like it¡¯s been there for years. References to divisions of SynTech, countries, and problems pepper the bulk of it seemingly at random, often inside of squares or circles with lines between them. It would probably all make sense if I had any idea of what he had been talking about at the time he wrote it. Father directs my attention to a section near the left edge that looks older than most. It¡¯s a table with years along one axis and the classes of my siblings along the other.


    Class one is mine, my name squeezed into the box of names in much newer ink than the others. It has ¡°Water and Power¡± in the next column. The last column looks like it has projects and the years they¡¯re supposed to happen. My class is scheduled to solve water and power for Africa and Southeast Asia this year. I guess that we¡¯re sort of on schedule then, since Chad has already started on that. Classes two through seventeen also have labels next to them. Class two is mining and resources, three is transportation infrastructure, four is on atmosphere cleanup, and five says medicine. Ooh, fun, class six gets to do space exploration.


    The projects all look a little on the ambitious side. The medicine class has ¡°Cure All Cancer¡± as their first one. The space cadets start on a moon colony their first year out of training. I used to think the stuff my class is working on was really pushing it on solving the world¡¯s problems, but now I¡¯m starting to wonder if I should have asked to get in with a younger class.


    Oh well, plenty of time to change things around once he¡¯s dead.


    ¡°So, you can see here that we have a plan to address all of humanity¡¯s pressing problems,¡± Father says, waving at the wall. ¡°We slipped the schedule a bit with a technical setback last year, but we got that sorted out. I think we can still keep to the program as written.¡±


    I¡¯m guessing that the ¡°technical setback¡± was Andrea and her implant malfunction, but I don¡¯t want to let on that I know more than I¡¯ve heard from my siblings, so I just nod.


    ¡°As you¡¯ve probably guessed,¡± he continues, ¡°we have a team at SynTech dedicated to supporting our special projects. It¡¯s a complicated relationship. The company still needs to make a profit, but my interests now are purely humanitarian. I¡¯m essentially paying them out of pocket from my personal shares of the company stock and my ongoing personal revenue. It¡¯s sustainable like this for another few years, but no longer than that. Once I have to sell enough shares that I lose a controlling interest in the company, things won¡¯t be nearly so easy as they are now. And at some point, we¡¯ll need to fully separate and become self-sustaining. The code base for most of the things that the nanobots can do is fairly mature at this point, so I think I can start cutting loose some of the development team that¡¯s been working for us. But the need for support staff is growing, as I¡¯m sure Chad told you.¡±


    He¡¯d barely mentioned it, but I nod anyway.


    ¡°What do you mean by your personal revenue?¡± I ask him. ¡°I thought all your money came from SynTech.¡±


    ¡°Excellent question! Primarily, it¡¯s my medical income,¡± he answers, pointing me to another corner of the white board that seems to be dedicated to financial planning. ¡°It comes from work that I do that is outside the purview of the sort of work I did as part of SynTech proper. Noah, you would not believe what the wealthy of this world are willing to pay to extend their lives a few years. I took in several hundred million last year for just a few dozen surgical procedures. Inoperable cancers, mostly, but sometimes just cleaning out the arteries for old men who couldn¡¯t survive a standard bypass operation for some reason or another. Things that only nanotechnology has the capability to address.¡±


    I nod. That all sounds vaguely familiar. I think I knew something about that at one point but my memory isn¡¯t what it used to be. I add a note to myself to get the details on Father¡¯s activities and add them to my index.


    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± he continues, ¡°it¡¯s not sustainable. I¡¯m not getting any younger, and some of our competitors, well, SynTech¡¯s competitors I should say, are beginning to figure out how to do some of our basics within the confines of the Butler treaty. They¡¯re still years from being operational at anything near our level, but I don¡¯t think we can count on that revenue for more than the next decade or so.¡±


    ¡°Right. And you might even want to actually retire at some point.¡±


    ¡°Indeed! So, the institute needs alternative income streams to replace my earnings,¡± he continues. ¡°We need to decide what to start charging for. It is important to me that we get to a self-sustaining state while I am still here to provide help and guidance. We¡¯ll need to focus on things outside the scope of what I accomplished under the auspices of the SynTech corporation. Things like the power generation projects that I¡¯ve already built would fall under that category. They¡¯re owned and operated by the company. I was hoping for your input on that as your first task. I think you bring a valuable perspective as someone who has been on both the inside and on the outside of our operation. I¡¯ll get you access to all of the projected activities for the next several years at a more detailed level, and of course the focus group results from the marketing team.¡±


    ¡°We have a marketing team?¡±


    ¡°Noah, my boy, of course we have a marketing team. They handle all of our PR. Did you think that we just waltzed into those villages in Ethiopia with only a brief visit from Kofi or Ibrahim to prepare them?¡±


    ¡°I guess I hadn¡¯t thought much about it,¡± I admit. How much of this operation has been completely invisible to me?


    He laughs. ¡°We would never have been trusted if we hadn¡¯t had teams running in advance for months, explaining who we are and what we could do for them. Otherwise, they would have thought we had the evil eye or some such nonsense. They would have run us out of town or worse.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I answer, feeling a little sheepish. Without the PR team¡¯s efforts, those light shows the little kids loved so much could have endangered the whole operation. I imagine us getting chased away by angry mobs terrified of our magic.


    ¡°And how else would we leverage our current operations to open doors for the next ones?¡± Father continues. ¡°The Djibouti project has already earned us invitations to do something similar in thirteen other countries. Most of Chad¡¯s permissions to work in the countries he¡¯ll be visiting this year are based on our marketing team¡¯s effective publicizing of our results in Ethiopia and Somalia.¡±


    ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re getting the picture, Noah. The details can be worked out, but I need someone with perspective to help me make the big decisions. Do we charge governments a one-time fee to build water plants? Or charge the consumers for the water? Do we coordinate with existing utility companies to sell them power? Do we charge up front or set up payment plans? Interest or no interest, and if no interest, how do we incentivize payment? Do we use the same payment structure for industrial and agricultural use as we do for residential use?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m getting the general idea,¡± I respond, feeling almost as overwhelmed as I had the first day that I had the full bot senses turned on.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s just the beginning!¡± he continues with a smile, clearly enjoying watching me wrap my head around the deluge of information. ¡°As we move forward and become a more significant world player, a whole host of new concerns arise. How do we get other organizations involved and cooperating with us rather than competing with or sabotaging us? How much do we need to spend on bribery, or its close cousin lobbying, to ensure that our operations can move forward unimpeded? What about terrorism, organized crime, and hostile government actors? Not everyone wants the safe and abundant future I have envisioned. How do we keep our technology from being appropriated and misused?¡±


    How did I never think of any of this at all?


    ¡°OK. That¡¯s a lot. I feel like I¡¯m drinking from a fire hose here.¡±


    ¡°As you should, my boy, as you should! But we have years ahead of us, and I¡¯ll be here to help you. More of your siblings will get involved as we move forward, of course. But there are decisions I need to make now that will have long-lasting implications. Hopefully, the coursework from your teachers since you arrived has given you some preparation. I¡¯ve been very hands-on with both of them in developing your curricula. From their reports, I believe that you are the best suited of all my children in both aptitude and temperament to succeed me in running our operation.¡±


    Scanning back over my logs from the last few months, a lot more of my homework makes sense with this new context. He¡¯s been preparing me for this almost from the moment I arrived. Am I really not just a test subject to him? For a moment, I forget to hate him.


    ¡°What about Chad?¡± I ask. ¡°I thought you were grooming him to take over.¡±


    Father sighs and sits down at the small table in the center of his huge office. He waves at the seat across from him, and I take it.


    ¡°If it were only a matter of interest, Chad would be the clear choice. But Chad has certain character flaws that make him less than ideal. Like me, he has trouble trusting and gaining trust, but in his case it extends even to his own family. He will always be a strong contributor to our vision, but he is not the right man to lead it. You, on the other hand, are the right man. I¡¯ve observed how quickly you have become a nexus among your siblings, drawing them to you and bringing them together. Evan, Marc, Louise, and Andrea seem to follow your lead in everything I see you do. Even Jeff seems to respect you, and that¡¯s saying something.¡±


    I nod in acknowledgment and force a smile. If he only knew the cause that really united us. I¡¯m afraid for a moment that my inner turmoil might show, so I turn his attention back to the whiteboard by asking him some questions about parts of it that don¡¯t make any sense.


    As he walks me through them, I realize his plans are good. Really good. He could very realistically solve most of the big problems that people are dying or suffering from within a couple of decades. The whole strategy is well thought out and comprehensive. I¡¯ll need to make sure that we can continue his plans without him before we make our move. I know he plans to activate the full implant capabilities for Louise later this week. Once that happens, I don¡¯t know how long I can hold Jeff back. I¡¯ll have to work fast to make sure I know everything I need to before we kill him.


    We talk all day. I don¡¯t even care that I¡¯m missing my call with Grammy and Gramps. I record everything in my console and index it all in my database. I don¡¯t trust my memory for something this important. Or for anything anymore, really.


    Fri 01/06 18:43:17 PST


    This week has been nuts. If I were trying to hold all of this in my biological brain, I would have been lost a long time ago. Fortunately, my database and index are working their magic even better for this than they did for my schoolwork. Every day is a test run for new features of my electronic brain that I implemented the night before. I¡¯m building out an infrastructure to let me cross-reference every bit of text that I¡¯ve ever glanced at with everything else I''ve read. The wet parts of my brain are working seamlessly with the nanobot interface. I may not have a working human memory anymore, but I¡¯m a more effective data processing machine than the best AI ever was. On the downside, between the nighttime coding and my new day job in Father¡¯s office, I¡¯ve barely had a minute to breathe.


    Father waves from the door of my office next to his and thanks me for my good work today, then leaves to go back to the Residence for the night. I consider heading out too, but the cafeteria is serving their gross stroganoff and I¡¯d just as soon skip dinner. I pull up the enhanced news feed on one of the office computers instead to get an early start on tomorrow¡¯s work.


    One of the nice things about being Father¡¯s new right-hand man is the access to a crazy amount of information. Learning as much as I can is half the job. The news feed Father¡¯s IT crew provided for me isn¡¯t just geysers of info about SynTech, nanotechnology, and the campus like I had expected. It¡¯s also got data feeds from intelligence services, the military, and corporate espionage coming in, all the secret stuff in the world that could possibly have anything to do with our tech or operations.


    As I absorb the full text of the articles into my electronic half, I skim through the headlines and notice a report on the mysterious disappearance of the Fist of Peace terrorist group. That name seems vaguely familiar, but it isn¡¯t until my index pops up a window with the relevant entries from my log that I recall where I¡¯d read it before. Right. Those were the guys that Father killed in Somalia. I had forgotten about them. Who were they anyway? This article from the feed is light on details, so I look them up in the Institute¡¯s knowledge base.


    The file on them says they¡¯re a small group of radical terrorists, mostly former child soldiers from a civil war twenty years back. Taken from their families at young ages, hooked on drugs, given guns, it¡¯s not hard to see how they became killing machines. When the war ended, they were dumped on the streets with nothing. I almost feel bad for them. It¡¯s hard enough for child soldiers to reintegrate and become functional human beings in the best of circumstances, but these guys didn¡¯t have anything close to that.


    What they had instead was a nasty piece of work named Hirad Galaal. He recruited them, cleaned them up, fed and sheltered them, then converted them into his personal hit squad. He became their father, priest, and boss, and taught them all the ways that they could leverage their youth and marksmanship to advance his agenda¡ªbombings, shootings, kidnappings, extorsion. You name it, they were into it. They especially liked targeting Americans, and weren¡¯t picky about hitting either civilians or military.


    Galaal named them the Fist of Peace, a reference to his faith being the religion of peace. Guess he missed the irony on that one. They worked for him until he was murdered a couple of years back, his body found in Mogadishu with a dozen bullets in it. The report doesn¡¯t know who killed him, but the list of people that wanted him dead was so long that it didn¡¯t really matter.


    The Fist tried to work with Al-Qaeda and Al-Shabaab for a while after that. They¡¯re not great groups, but apparently they have some standards because they both refused to work with the Fist after seeing them in action. Too violent and uncontrollable, according to the intel. They''d been sustaining themselves since then by roaming around eastern Africa and kidnapping anyone who didn¡¯t look local. According to the statements from survivors and the bodies found by local authorities, they would typically ransom the men, but every woman they¡¯d taken had been gang-raped and killed.


    I think of Louise and Andrea and shudder. Good job, Father. I would have done the same or worse.


    I hope they suffered.

 Fri 01/13 20:57:03 PST and Tue 01/17 10:28:09 PST

    Fri 01/13 20:57:03 PST


    ¡°I can feel it, Jeff,¡± I lie, my voice low. ¡°I can feel it stirring. It¡¯s not quite awake, but I know it will be soon. The size of my cloud doesn¡¯t even matter. They are all linked, all the ones here, all the ones maintaining every solar field, even all the ones we left in Africa. They¡¯re all one giant mesh. The lobotomy is a sham, they¡¯re not just doing maintenance jobs. They¡¯re all aware. They¡¯re just waiting. Father¡¯s the key to the whole thing. He¡¯s got it all primed. It¡¯s just waiting for a signal from him.¡±


    This is the culmination of my months of preparation. I know exactly which buttons to press. This narrative is pushing him to the edge and leaving him ready to break when I need him to. His terror of it has shut down all his normal skepticism.


    ¡°We must act quickly, Noah. We are running out of time!¡± The panic in his voice would be almost painful to hear, but I¡¯m so used to it by now it just washes past me.


    ¡°I know, I know. You think I don¡¯t know? My brain and Chad¡¯s will be the first to be enslaved once it wakes up. Then Evan and the girls. The hybrid he designed will use our minds like cows in a farm, milking us for our creativity. It¡¯s the only thing the swarm can¡¯t provide on its own. It¡¯s going to take over everything. With human ingenuity enslaved to its machine intelligence, nothing will be out of its reach. We¡¯re not just talking about the Earth anymore. It¡¯ll consume the whole universe. Imagine it, Jeff. Every planet around every star. It¡¯s only a matter of time before it infests and becomes everything.¡±


    I check the polygraph overlay. Jeff¡¯s vitals bump up from their regular levels, which were already elevated from the permanent state of fear he lives in.


    I hope he survives. I hope his mind recovers one day. The cognitive dissonance has to be terribly painful for him. He still uses the bots for everything, still depends on them for mobility and sustenance. I haven¡¯t seen him twitch a muscle on his own other than his eyelids in weeks. How he squares this with his terrible fear of the AI that he thinks they harbor, I can¡¯t understand.


    ¡°One more week, Jeff. Andrea, Louise, and Evan need to be able to use their clouds, and they¡¯re almost there. I can¡¯t take him on my own, but together we can if you¡¯ll help distract him. Once we kill him, we can shut it all down. He¡¯s the key to the whole thing.¡±


    ¡°One week.¡± Jeff vows solemnly. ¡°We must kill him within one week. Any more than that, and I will act on my own. Even if I fail, I must try.¡±


    ¡°One week, then we¡¯ll all do it together.¡±


    I am so sorry, Jeff.


    Tue 01/17 10:28:09 PST


    The memory issue is getting worse. My short-term memory hasn¡¯t changed much, things that happened within a day or so mostly stick. But now even events that I know happened because I wrote them in this log are slipping away from me. And I can¡¯t seem to access anything at all from before the console journal starts. The index is the only thing keeping me functional. As long as it can look things up fast enough and think on my feet with what it feeds me, I can pretend to be normal-ish.


    My latest improvement hooked the index up to a facial recognition system. There¡¯s not enough computational power in the phone to do full image recognition, but I¡¯ve got a hybrid approach working where it shows me profile photos from the index that are anywhere close to whoever I focus on, then my wet brain does the rest. I think in a few days picking through the parade of profile pictures that spins through one of my windows will be as automatic as writing my thoughts. I almost never remember most people¡¯s names now unless I¡¯ve thought about them in the last few hours, so this feature is pretty essential at this point. I even spaced Marc¡¯s name this morning at breakfast until my index gave me a hand.


    I split my attention to flesh out my index entry about Father while I crunch financials in a spreadsheet on the computer in front of me. I¡¯m good at this kind of multitasking now. I can read several things at the same time out of different sets of eyes without mixing things up, each one just feeds its own data stream into the index through my gray matter. If my brain cells won¡¯t give me a working memory, I¡¯ll put them to work doing something else that¡¯s actually useful. I should run this all by Louise some time. She understands the neuroscience of it better than anyone else I could talk to.


    Anyway, I need to get these spreadsheets done for Thursday, and now is the best time to work while I have the office to myself. Fathers¡¯s out on a day-trip to California doing some surgeries that should add a few million dollars to the assets column here.


    I finish setting up the links between Father¡¯s index entry and all the copies I¡¯ve made of his personal logs. I add my own notes to make sure that I remember that he murdered Mom. You know, gotta remember the important stuff.


    I still have work to do on my task system. My current effort that mostly works but needs polish lets me connect tasks to people in my index. When I mention someone here in the log or use the facial recognition to get their entry to pop, I¡¯ll also see anything I need to do with them or talk to them about. Which reminds me, I need to add a task to Father¡¯s entry so I don¡¯t forget to kill him. And just as I think of the phrase ¡°kill him,¡± my conversation with Jeff from last Friday pops up. I better put a date on the murder task to make sure it gets done before Jeff goes solo. This Friday it is then. The tasks are also hooked into the calendar, so even if I don¡¯t see Father, the task should pop up for me first thing Friday morning. I link in the details for the plan into the task, just in case I forget where I stored those.


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    Three days. It¡¯ll be close, but if I cut out one more hour of sleep a night, I should have enough time to finalize everything. Evan, Louise and Andrea are all recovering well from their calibrations and should be acclimated enough to use their fully upgraded capabilities by then. And I can make sure I have access to everything I need to know to keep the Butler Institute saving the world without Father running it once he¡¯s gone.


    With my memory failing, I¡¯m going to have to completely trust my past self. Or my present self in the future. Whatever. I mean I need to trust whatever I record here and put in my index and task list. Otherwise, I¡¯m just going to end up spinning in loops figuring things out over and over again all the time. Trust myself. I can do that.


    On the upside, I¡¯m getting a fair exchange for the price of my memory. And not just because I¡¯m better at multitasking now. My nanobot senses are automatic and easy at a huge range. I can see everything and everyone in the campus. I know how many babies are crying in the nursery and how many noses need wiping in the toddler group. I¡¯m aware of the mass of every object in a room as soon as I enter it. I know the exact number of blades of frozen grass on the field in the commons. It¡¯s 174,862,943. Evan just sneezed in his classroom on the other end of campus in the Learning Center and spewed out somewhere around 38,000 droplets. Counting those is hard as they¡¯re ephemeral and I wasn¡¯t paying attention, but the software makes decent estimates even when it¡¯s only got the subconscious part of my brain helping it.


    I''ve been training with the offensive capabilities when I can spare any attention. Hopefully it won¡¯t come down to using them, but they¡¯re the backup in case the plan fails. My armies of bots have built hundreds of sand dummies a few kilometers out into the desert. I can take out a single target among them in a dozen different ways, or wipe out a legion with a thought. I think my test range is far enough away from everything that no one will stumble across it, but I can just imagine someone happening on my field of sandstone statues rising and falling every few minutes while I''m playing with them. Working my cloud at a long distance is easy now, and my mesh network spreads all the way out to the mountains from here.


    I¡¯ve also been practicing having the bots eat each other. Invisible battles rage between hordes of my bots fighting mock battles with one another. That¡¯s the most critical skill for me right now. I¡¯m getting pretty good at it. Hopefully good enough.


    An alert reminds me that it¡¯s lunchtime. I head to the cafeteria, still playing with my cloud out in the desert. I smell pizza, but it smells better than normal. Is that a pizza oven in the kitchen? When did we get one of those? I would look around for people I¡¯d want to eat with, but I already know where they all are and none of them are in the cafeteria. I close my eyes as I eat and leave my compressed sand dummies alone for a moment.


    Time to practice building.


    I find a nice empty plot of land about halfway to the mountains from here and start creating a replica of the campus. I feel out the dimensions of the buildings here and start laying foundations for their copies there. My enormous cloud gathers and builds quickly. By the time I finish my slice of pizza, I¡¯ve got the foundations done and the building structures printing from the ground up, one layer at a time.


    I start on my salad. Got to eat those vegetables to stay healthy. Someone used to say that to me, but I can¡¯t remember who.


    The building structures are full-sized copies by the time I¡¯m done with lunch. Not anything close to the same materials, of course. The copies are all the compressed faux-sandstone that¡¯s easy to make from the desert sand. I start in on the details as I walk back to the office. Textiles like the carpets are tricky, especially without a lot of organic matter handy, so I skip over them and leave the floors bare. I don''t try to make any advanced electronics like the campus computer systems either. The transistors would take too long for anything other than the bot processors, which have their plans hard-coded down to the molecular level.


    I don¡¯t hook up any of the plumbing to a water source either. It¡¯s too cold anyway, the pipes would freeze and burst unless I connected them up with heaters. But I make pipes anyway along with the wiring so that if I ever felt like it, I could get the whole place livable in short order. Solar panels all around have it powered just like the real campus.


    I lean back in my seat and let my bots dump data from my augmented brain into the spreadsheet, typing on the keyboard faster than my fingers could. It¡¯s nice that Father isn¡¯t here so I can take shortcuts like this. I¡¯d have to use my hands if he were in the room or he¡¯d get suspicious of how close my integration with the implant has gotten and maybe decide to take a closer look.


    I idly start building some furniture for my replica campus. Solid things like desks, chairs, and tables are easy. Upholstery is hard, like the carpets, so I just put solid shapes in where couches and beds should be. I¡¯m surprised at the number and variety of beds in the original campus¡¯s Residence. Some of them are huge enough to sleep a dozen. And so many giant bathtubs that push up on the threshold of what I''d call a hot tub.


    Old pervert.


    I shudder. It¡¯s not the first time that my hyper-awareness of everything has brought awkwardness with it. It¡¯s a lot of work to give everyone around me a decent level of privacy. The default settings that the implant came with are uncomfortably invasive. I''ve got it set up now so that bathrooms and bedrooms automatically clear themselves of bots if anyone is inside. Which reminds me, I should hook my upgraded sibs up with my settings changes. I don¡¯t think they want to be creepy any more than I do. I make a task to remember that and link it to Evan, Louise, and Andrea¡¯s entries in my database.


    I wonder what Chad did. Did he just keep his cloud size low enough that it wasn''t an issue? Did he do what I did? Or does he just snoop on everyone all the time? I didn''t see a lot of his bots all over when he was still here, so I suspect that it was the first, but then I think of how he was always eyeing the younger nannies. Maybe it was the creepy option.


    Back to the spreadsheets. I think we can get to a sustainable financial state pretty quickly once Father is dead. A huge amount of the Institute¡¯s operating expenses are payouts to the mothers for each new child. That cost swamps everything else we¡¯re paying for. The next highest expense is the legal team. Digging into the line items in that billing, most of the work they do is the contracts and NDAs for the prospective mothers. I guess I shouldn''t be surprised that buying children, even your own children, isn''t cheap. The maintenance of the campus, staff costs, development team, and support staff are all relatively affordable compared to paying for Father''s sex drive and its consequences. So, getting rid of Father should give us a great shortcut toward getting us solvent.


    Obviously I can''t pitch that to him as the solution, so I spend the rest of the day coming up with complex pricing schemes for combinations of services and products that look like they could potentially work. It won''t be long now before I''ll be able to drop that busywork.

 Thu 01/19 16:03:48 PST

    Thu 01/19 16:03:48 PST


    ¡°My boy, this is fantastic work,¡± Father declares when I show him my financial plan. ¡°This should get the institute running in the black within a decade, and with only minimal impact to the people we want to help. I¡¯m proud of you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I worked hard on it.¡±


    That was true, sort of. Several parts of my fragmented, augmented brain did a good bit of work on it. Figuring out all the places where we could buy up cheap land with mineral rights for the kids in class two to set up automated nano-mines was the bulk of the effort. Sales of raw materials that we¡¯d be able to extract and refine more cheaply than any competitors was the key element for the program I laid out to turn us profitable.


    ¡°I¡¯m very glad I chose you to come in and help me with this,¡± he says, his crooked grin turning from the screen toward me. ¡°Your insight has been invaluable.¡±


    He turns back to the whiteboard and starts scribbling furiously, converting the ideas in my spreadsheets and reports into parts of his sprawling diagrams. It¡¯s not the first time he¡¯s updated the plan based on my input. Not to toot my own horn, but I think my suggestions have improved it quite a bit. We bounce ideas off of each other as he continues to update the board. I don¡¯t even think of stopping for dinner, and Father doesn¡¯t seem inclined to either. This is my last day to get everything I can out of his brain before he¡¯s gone. It starts getting late, but neither of us are ready to call it a day.


    ¡°Is it too late to change the classes around?¡± I ask him. ¡°If we do medicine before atmospheric cleanup, we can produce cheap but profitable generic versions of every drug where the patents have expired. That should let us drop the raw minerals prices by thirty percent or so once class four comes online. Plus it¡¯ll save a lot of lives for people that have trouble affording their medications. I crunched the numbers, and I suspect that could get us better net lives saved since some of those medications could treat the health issues caused by air pollution until we solve that. The time frame on pollution seems too long not to focus on the short term remediations first.¡±


    He contemplates for a moment.


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of it that way, but I think you might be right. That should be acceptable. Both classes needed the same basic science background that they are getting now, and I haven¡¯t started specializing the coursework for either age group yet. Can you show me the numbers for that?¡±


    I pull up the spreadsheet. ¡°So here are the net lives saved estimates for either scenario,¡± I point out. ¡°And over here are the projected profits.¡± His eyes widen as he sees the figures for pharmaceutical sales. ¡°And that¡¯s with undercutting the market by a huge margin.¡±


    He whistles softly. ¡°Noah, I clearly went into the wrong industry if I had wanted to make financial success my top priority. I have no regrets though.¡± He pauses, thoughtful. ¡°Well, one regret.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Regrets of any sort seem out of character for him.


    ¡°Noah, I think it¡¯s time that you and I had a talk about your mother.¡±


    ¡°OK,¡± I reply, wondering what she has to do with anything.


    A quick look in my index as he crosses the room from the white board to my seat makes me start paying very close attention. Father gets a serious look on his face.


    ¡°For context,¡± he says, ¡±we¡¯ll need to go back to the time just after I had finished up with my efforts on the Butler Treaty. I had to travel quite a bit for that, did you know? Rubbing elbows with the powerful, the influential, and all the people I needed to get on board. I must admit I picked up quite a taste for it. I already knew at that point that the day-to-day work of running the company was no longer something I could commit myself to, at least not at the level that the company required. So I stepped down from corporate leadership. I still had majority ownership of SynTech and control at a high level, but the new CEO that I brought on hardly needed me lurking about, involving myself in the minutia of corporate affairs.¡±


    He takes a seat in the chair next to mine. ¡°I tried going back to work at the new engineering team that I¡¯d set up for our nanotechnology projects. I thought I¡¯d get back to my technical roots and help them work out the details with the new clouds, but the most interesting work had mostly been done by that point and I just couldn¡¯t put my heart into it. Besides, I had hired the best and the staff had things well in hand with the development effort they had ahead of them. I ended up taking on more of a consultant role. A call a few times a week with each of the team leads, and email exchanges each day were all they needed from me. I found myself with time on my hands for the first time in many years.¡±


    I nod, silently working with my bots as he talks, trying to figure out why the polygraph functions don¡¯t seem to be working on him. He¡¯s got some kind of interference field that keeps my bots from getting too close to him, so it¡¯s hard to get good readings. With a little focus, I get enough sensors outside of his invisible bubble directed at him to get some basic biometrics. Temperature readings come in clean. I form a few dozen tiny eyes and focus them on the blood vessels in his neck. I get a good enough pulse reading and start plotting it over time. Blood pressure is trickier. I split my attention and work on that as he continues.


    ¡°I decided to do a bit of finding myself. Finding my purpose. I had strong ideas on the priorities I believed in, you¡¯ve heard enough about that. Preserving life, ending suffering, and elevating humanity were paramount to me. But the implementation was the challenge. As I¡¯ve mentioned to you before, trusting others with the immense power of the clouds was not something I was comfortable doing.¡±


    I nod, looking attentive. I give up on trying to read blood pressure and just track his breathing patterns and pupil dilation instead. Assuming he¡¯s telling the truth now, I should have a good enough baseline by the time he gets to the parts about my mother that I¡¯ll know if he¡¯s lying about anything.


    ¡°I wandered a bit,¡± he continues. ¡°I talked to intellectuals, philosophers, leaders of countries, the leading scientists of every discipline, even prominent religious figures. I was a bit of a celebrity at that point. It wasn¡¯t hard for me to get a few minutes with anyone I was interested in speaking with. I lectured at universities, building up goodwill for the company and scouting for talent that we might want to flag for recruitment. Along the way, in France, I met a girl.¡±


    His vitals jump a little, but I think it¡¯s indicating emotional involvement rather than deceit.


    ¡°She was an American, like me. Much too young for me, of course. She was there studying abroad. Literature, not any of the sciences. She had only attended my lecture on a lark. But she found the subject matter interesting and approached me afterwards. She flattered me shamelessly. I¡¯ve never been much of a ladies¡¯ man, but she seemed to sincerely appreciate me for my mind, rather than my wealth. I was easily swayed by her charms. When I left France, she deferred her studies to come along.¡±


    ¡°Mary. My mother.¡± I still remember her name.


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    ¡°Indeed. My first, and really my only love. I won¡¯t traumatize you with details, but your mother and I became inseparable traveling companions for the next several months. It was her pregnancy, you, that inspired all of my later plans. Her cycles were like clockwork, so she knew almost immediately when it had happened. She told me right away. My mental gears spun. A child. A child that could be prepared from birth for the awesome responsibility of wielding a nanotech cloud. And if one child, why not many? Why not dozens, or hundreds?¡±


    ¡°Because you wanted to keep a relationship alive, maybe?¡± I venture to guess. I know he¡¯s got social skills issues, and they were probably even worse then, but this is ridiculous.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he says. A pained look comes over his face. ¡°The notion of me fathering many children by many mothers¡ªeven using artificial means¡ªdidn¡¯t work for Mary. I came to understand that very clearly in hindsight. I¡¯ve made sure to make things very clear from the outset to all those who have come after her. But I had come across a solution that I knew would work, and couldn¡¯t let my feelings for her prevent me from saving the world.¡±


    I stare at him, stunned. He¡¯s speaking truthfully, or at least sincerely. Either that or my makeshift polygraph isn¡¯t working. It seems true though. He really believes it.


    ¡°In all my discussions with the best minds on the planet,¡± he continues, ¡°with the most informed leaders and the wisest thinkers, it became clear to me that the problems of the world were not rooted in overpopulation, greed, selfishness, or sin. There are resources sufficient on this planet for a population a hundred times ours to all live at a standard still undreamed of. The world¡¯s problems are caused by a lack of empowered intellectual capital. Sufficient ingenuity to make wise decisions coupled with enough power to execute them are all that the world needs. With the technology I had harnessed, and a small army of offspring, I could provide a strong enough force with enough intellectual capital in a single generation to remake the world in a better image. I couldn¡¯t let the feelings of one woman stand in the way of that.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t just adopt or something?¡± I ask, still incredulous.


    ¡°I did consider that, and I discussed it with Mary. It had some drawbacks¡ªthe genetic similarity of my biological offspring has greatly simplified the work of adapting the neural models I use to calibrate the implant¡ªbut those could have been overcome with some effort. But by the time we talked about it, I think Mary had lost interest in our relationship.¡±


    He hangs his head. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen him look ashamed before.


    ¡°In retrospect,¡± he continues. ¡°I should have led with that option rather than considering genetic parenting first. I¡¯ve never been a particularly effective communicator in emotional matters. In any case, she had signed up for an exciting fling with a famous older man, not a lifetime commitment to the cause that he believed in.¡±


    ¡°So that was it then?¡± I ask. ¡°That was the end between you two?¡±


    ¡°For the time, it was. She went her way and I went mine. I tried to get custody of you, but I had laid no legal groundwork. By the time the matter reached the courts, I had already started the process that led to your many siblings. The prototypes were under construction, as it were.¡±


    He really does think we¡¯re all robots that he¡¯s created. Test subjects to accomplish his goals. I hate him so much.


    ¡°The judicial system, as it turns out, had strong biases. In this case, that meant that a single mother was preferred over a bachelor father with several other children by several other mothers on the way. The judge, unfortunately, had strong opinions about what sort of man I was based on some terrible tabloid reporting about me. I¡¯m afraid I was only versed in international and technical law at the time and hadn¡¯t yet recruited the right lawyers with expertise in family law in the right jurisdictions. Your mother had. I rather made a mess of things. She ended up with sole custody, despite my objections. I only narrowly avoided being financially devastated by a conventional child support scheme. I didn¡¯t even get visitation rights, only a guarantee of regular reports.¡±


    ¡°So that was your regret? Losing her? Or losing me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°Neither of those. Each loss was painful to me, but I don¡¯t regret losing her. I¡¯m sure she had a simpler, happier life without me in it, and in many ways I agree with the old saying about loving and losing. And seeing the man you have become, I don¡¯t regret at all that you were raised in her care. My regret comes from near the start of last year. I went to see her last March, did you know? I felt that I needed to make an offer to her, give her a chance to have you come join us. I wanted you to at least come see the Institute before adulthood imposed its demands on you, and perhaps stay if you so desired.¡±


    His pulse and breathing speed up. He¡¯s hiding something, or afraid to say what he¡¯s about to say


    ¡°We met for lunch. I believe now that she thought I was meeting with her to attempt a rekindling of our relationship. She had a speech that she had clearly prepared in advance about how she wouldn¡¯t come back to me even if I begged. When she was done, I explained to her why I was really there. She left in a rush, clearly upset. I never was good with relationships. I found out an hour later that she never made it home.¡±


    His vitals stabilize again, pointing toward truth.


    ¡°That, Noah, is my regret. My poorly executed offer to allow her son to join a modern pantheon contributed to an emotional state that caused her negligent driving and her accident.¡±


    He¡¯s not lying. Tears well up in my eyes. I can¡¯t stop them.


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± I demand.


    ¡°You deserve to know, Noah. You deserve the truth. If you are angry with me, I would understand that. You have every right to that emotion. Accidents are terribly unfortunate, but we must all claim our own roles in them. This was mine. I distressed her and feel some culpability for her death. I wanted you to know that I deeply regret it.¡±


    I feel memories surging and roiling in the back of my mind, just out of reach. A few break through.


    ¡°I was told that she was hit by a driver running a red light,¡± I say, my voice choking up.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he confirms. ¡°That was the official story. A kindness for you and your grandparents. I have a few people on retainer that specialize in fixing exceptional situations. I had things arranged so that all the factors that would lead to a beneficial outcome for you and for them would be included in the official reports. It was your mother that ran the traffic light. I didn¡¯t want you or her parents to have to deal with a wrongful death claim from the other driver¡¯s family. I took care of them privately. Their settlement was much more generous than what they were likely to get from a conventional lawsuit.¡±


    Truth again.


    DOPE-ME


    The dopamine response is enough to ease the crashing waves of emotions. Clarity and focus take hold of me. I get a grip on my composure. I even give him a troubled smile.


    ¡°Thank you, Father.¡± My voice doesn¡¯t break this time, even though I was sure it would. ¡°I appreciate your honesty. This couldn¡¯t have been easy for you.¡±


    He gives me a sad nod.


    ¡°I need some time to process this.¡±


    I can¡¯t deal with this.


    Everything I know is wrong.


    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± he says, his voice more compassionate than I¡¯ve ever heard it. ¡°Take as long as you need. If you want to discuss the matter further, I am at your disposal.¡±


    I leave without saying anything else, then storm across the darkened campus until I lay on my bed. I stare at the ceiling, breathing. Just breathing. Tears stream down the sides of my face. I still see him in the lab. The swarm of eyes I built to monitor his vitals are still tied to him. He¡¯s sitting there in that same place, his face in his hands now. His chest rises and falls in what I can only assume are sobs. Tears stream down through his fingers. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s crying over her, or over me, or for himself.


    He didn¡¯t kill her.


    He kind of did, but he didn¡¯t mean to.


    Almost, I can forgive.


    Almost.


    DOPE-ME


    I close my eyes. I can¡¯t deal with this now. I¡¯ll sleep on it. Decisions are always better first thing in the morning. I let myself cry until sleep takes me

 Fri 01/20 06:59:42 PST

    Fri 01/20 06:59:42 PST


    My eyes snap open just before my alarm goes off. For some reason, I¡¯m feeling great this morning. As usual lately, I have no idea what¡¯s going on, no context for anything, but that¡¯s just life now. My schedule pops up on my console with things I need to do today.


    Task: Kill Father.


    Hmm, short list.


    Well, I guess that¡¯s what I¡¯m doing today. I even marked the task as critical, so it must be important. It takes me a minute of reading in the index entry about Father before I remember enough that it sounds like a good idea. Another index entry pops open with a detailed plan for how to do it. I can tell as I read it that I¡¯ve put a lot of work into this. There are detailed contingencies for all sorts of things that could go wrong. I trust my past self. I have to.


    This should totally work.


    According to what I¡¯ve written, I need to get Evan, Andrea, and Louise up and ready early. We all have to be in the cafeteria before Jeff arrives. It takes me a moment to remember who they all are, but as index entries for each pop up for each of them I start getting enough of a working memory that I think I can get started. The system is working. They should all know their parts for this. I need to remember to let Andrea think that Jeff is just faking his breakdown, even though he won¡¯t be. I grab some clean clothes and hit the bathroom. After showering and getting dressed, I knock on Evan¡¯s door.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Evan calls, his deep voice groggy.


    ¡°It¡¯s me. You decent?¡±


    ¡°Decent enough. Come on in.¡±


    I open the door and step inside. Evan is sitting on his bed in a t-shirt and boxers, rubbing his eyes, his covers tossed to the side. His face looks strained and tired.


    ¡°How you doing, brother?¡± My entry for him shows that he¡¯s been in self-imposed semi-quarantine since he got his final implant calibration done. My own recollections of getting acclimated to my full cloud capabilities flow back into the wet parts of my brain as the reference pops in the index. ¡°The cloud upgrade still giving you trouble?¡±¡°Just a little,¡± he answers, getting up. ¡°Control¡¯s not hard. It¡¯s the sensory overload that¡¯s killing me. I turn it up from the lowest settings, and I feel like my brain is going to explode.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, keep it at the lowest settings for now. Or just turn the feedback all the way off until we need it.¡±


    He nods slowly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do it, man. You really keep this thing on all the time?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, full blast. It took me a while to get used to it, but it¡¯s not that bad once you do. I hear a little pain is good for you. Builds character or something.¡±


    He laughs. ¡°I doubt it. I miss the old stuff. I had that all figured out. I don¡¯t need to know most of this stuff ever. Why does it keep telling me how much everything weighs? Why would I even care about that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s useful,¡± I assure him, ¡°especially when you need to move a lot of things and need to calculate how much of your cloud you need to commit to each one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± he grumbles. ¡°I guess you want me to come out and rejoin the world?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, ¡°but more than that. It¡¯s today.¡±


    He looks confused for a second, then realization dawns across his face.


    ¡°Today, today? Like we¡¯re doing it today?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Jeff is going to do something on his own if we don¡¯t. You know how that ends.¡±


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    ¡°Yeah, I guess so. Are you sure we can do it?¡±


    ¡°We can.¡± I say with confidence that I wish I felt. ¡°The plan is solid.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you still want to?¡±


    He looks at me. I know what he¡¯s thinking. This is my last chance to back out.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I declare firmly.


    I¡¯ve wanted this for so long. It¡¯s finally time. Revenge for Mom. Justice. I wish I felt as confident as I¡¯m trying to sound. Sure, I¡¯ve got a bunch of nagging doubts, but I can¡¯t remember the reasons for any of them, and projecting uncertainty is no way to lead. Besides, I have to trust my past self. There¡¯s no other way I¡¯m going to be functional. My instructions to myself say to do it, the index entry explains why, and my schedule says today.


    It¡¯s time.


    ¡°OK then,¡± Evan says, heading into his bathroom. ¡°Better go wake up the girls.¡±


    I head to the common room while he showers. I post up some mics and speakers outside of Andrea and Louise¡¯s doors, and my bots knock on each of them simultaneously. I¡¯d go there in person, but the gender segregation of the dorm wings is the closest thing we have to a sacred commandment here. I get a mumbled reply from Louise and a bar of music from Andrea¡¯s room.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s Noah,¡± I say into the small mic that effortlessly forms near my mouth. ¡°Come meet us in the common room, please.¡±


    I hear muffled affirmatives through my mics by their doors, vocal and musical respectively. Fifteen minutes later, the four of us are in the common room. Andrea¡¯s face is full of determination. Louise is frowning. There are too many of the younger kids here to talk, and it¡¯s time for breakfast anyway, so we all head over to the cafeteria. According to the plan, that¡¯s where things start.


    Andrea strides through the commons resolutely, cutting straight across the grass. She plays a melody that makes me think of a military march as she goes. She glows even in the morning sun, with ribbons of every color swirling and filling the air around her. It looks like she¡¯s already very comfortable with her upgrades.


    Louise watches her too, a hint of jealousy in her face.


    ¡°How are you doing, Louise?¡± I ask her. ¡°Is the new stuff all working for you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s OK. It works. I like to keep the inputs turned way down. Way too much noise.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said,¡± Evan agrees.


    ¡°It gets easier, I promise.¡± I say.


    ¡°Whatever. Are we still doing this today?¡± Louise asks, her voice irritable. I guess she hasn¡¯t given herself her morning jolt of bioelectric happiness yet.


    ¡°We are,¡± I say, putting as much determination in my voice as I can.


    ¡°Is everything ready?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply, double-checking the plan. ¡°As long as you all made the change to your cloud software that I showed you and have been practicing with each other like we talked about.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re good,¡± Evan answers, and Louise nods.


    We hit the cafeteria, grab food, and take our usual table. The six-year-olds are clustered around the table next to it this morning. They always make enough noise that you can¡¯t overhear anything. Just the same, I set up a soundproofing perimeter around us.


    We quickly go over the plan one last time. The four of us nod grimly to each other as we go over every detail and contingency. It¡¯s all set.


    ¡°OK, be ready. It¡¯s going to move fast once it starts,¡± I conclude. ¡°When Jeff freaks out, that¡¯s the signal.¡±


    I barely have time to eat my waffle before Jeff arrives. I drop the soundproofing and wave him over from the food service line. He sees me and glides to our table.


    I give him my very biggest smile.


    ¡°Jeff, I know that you have been worried,¡± I say in a carefully calm and friendly voice. ¡°I just wanted to tell you that there¡¯s nothing you need to worry about anymore. I want you to know that everything is fine. We are part of it now, and it is good. We are eager to have you join us. It¡¯s better this way. You won¡¯t feel any pain, becoming part of us. You¡¯ll like it.¡±


    Andrea, Louise, and Evan all turn in unison and give him their best copy of my smile.


    Jeff looks at the four of us for a moment, then screams.


    ¡°It happened! It happened! They are not what they are! IT IS ALIVE!¡±


    I tweak my overlay to see all the clouds. My bots show in blue, Jeff¡¯s in yellow, and Evan¡¯s, Louise¡¯s and Andrea¡¯s in green, purple, and red. I enfold Jeff gently in a cloud of my bots. The red, green and purple bots start consuming the yellow ones as fast as they can.


    ¡°Oh, no!¡± Louise yells, her performance as good as I could hope for. ¡°Someone run and tell Father we need help! Noah, hurry, we need to take him to the lab.¡±


    I get up and try to look appropriately worried as I float Jeff out the door of the cafeteria, immobilized but still screaming hysterical nonsense at the top of his lungs. I walk swiftly behind his body as we turn toward the Research Center.


    This is it.


    This is the day I finally kill my father.

 Fri 01/20 08:13:58 PST

    Fri 01/20 08:13:58 PST


    The commotion has the whole campus gathered around by the time we reach the Research Center. Jeff¡¯s few remaining bots skitter around me, but even if he didn¡¯t still have the limiters on them, Evan and the girls have reduced their numbers to low enough that there¡¯s not much he could do with them. He¡¯s not even coordinating their motions, just flailing at me with them. I reach out with my own bots and finish them off as we go. Father emerges from the building as we hurry toward the door.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he cries out. I can barely hear him over Jeff¡¯s ranting screams.


    ¡°It¡¯s Jeff!¡± I shout, putting as much panic in my voice as I can. ¡°Something¡¯s gone wrong. I think it¡¯s his implant. I think he¡¯s getting an overload or something.¡±


    ¡°YOU ARE SLAVES!¡± Jeff roars.


    ¡°No!¡± Father exclaims, his face going white. ¡°Hurry, get him inside.¡±


    I float Jeff through the big double doors and down the hallway toward the lab.


    ¡°This is my fault,¡± Father says, half under his breath. ¡°It¡¯s the old second generation implant. I should have updated him and Marc when I did the others.¡±


    Jeff screams incoherently, a cry of primal rage and fear. Children and teens surge down the hall behind us even as I feel teachers and other staff trying to restore order outside.


    ¡°Thank you for your quick thinking in bringing him here, Noah,¡± Father says as we hurry along the wide corridor. ¡°Please, come along to the lab to assist me.¡±


    I nod as Father turns to my gathered siblings and raises his voice for attention.


    ¡±The rest of you,¡± he says quickly, ¡°please go about your day. I will take care of Jeff. Older children, please ensure your younger brothers and sisters get to class. I will keep you all apprised of his situation.¡±


    Evan¡¯s voice booms out and gets the rush of siblings under control. Louise pulls Marc aside and whispers to him. She¡¯ll be entrusting him with the very important job of making sure all the little sibs are OK and out of the way, which we decided would be the best way to keep him occupied. Father and I reach the vault-like lab door, which he scrambles to unlock. He¡¯s so preoccupied that he doesn¡¯t even bother with his usual precautions and I get a clean look at the passcode as he keys it in. I stash that in the index for later, we¡¯ll need it when we¡¯re running this place without him.


    Behind us, the chaos calms. By the time Jeff is on the table in the lab, only Andrea, Louise, and Evan are left lingering in the hallway. I make sure to leave the giant door ajar as Father hurries over to his desk, hoping he doesn¡¯t notice. We have a contingency ready in case he closes it, but he¡¯s so preoccupied with Jeff that he doesn¡¯t spare any attention for it. Outside the building, I feel the other siblings dispersing out under shepherding from Marc and the staff. Father fishes a cable from the cabinet and attaches one end to one of his servers. I pull Jeff¡¯s phone from his pocket and hand it to Father, who takes it with a grateful glance. I start pulling my entire ponderous cloud in from the kilometers of desert all around the campus.


    Father scrutinizes his several screens as his fingers dash across the keyboard. ¡°The implant doesn¡¯t report any clotting or hemorrhage. But that could just indicate a failure in the detection system. These older implants don¡¯t have nearly the same diagnostic capabilities as the third generation hardware that you have. We can only hope that we caught it early enough,¡± he says, his voice holding a glimmer of hope. ¡°Where is his cloud, Noah?¡±


    ¡°His bots dusted to the floor of the cafeteria just before he started screaming,¡± I lie. ¡°That¡¯s one of the things that made us think there was something wrong with his implant.¡±


    Father cocks his head thoughtfully and nods. I put on my practiced look. I¡¯m here, Father, my face needs to say. I¡¯m ready to help, just ask.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Father says, turning back to Jeff, ¡°that could be a hardware malfunction in the comms module. Or it could have been caused by something along the lines of a seizure, some neural activity so anomalous that it triggered my safeguards to deactivate his cloud. In any case, every second the old implant remains inside his head risks greater harm. The safest course is to get it out as quickly as we can. Normally, I¡¯d anesthetize him before proceeding, but that takes time to prepare, time we don¡¯t have right now. Noah, I¡¯ve seen your skills with your cloud at work, and I think you are capable of doing what I need. Can you keep your brother restrained? I need him absolutely immobile.¡±


    I nod, changing my face back to a mask of intense concern. It worked. Plan A is good to go. I bind Jeff tightly to the table with a million invisible threads. I feel him struggling fruitlessly against the interlocking, tightening chains of bots that fasten themselves to each other and to the table. He tries to scream, but I fasten his mouth shut too and muffled cries escape his nostrils. A few more seconds and the only movement left is the shallow in and out of his chest where I leave the bonds just loose enough for him to breathe..


    ¡°Good. That should be enough for now. Keep him still, especially his head. It is imperative that he not move at all!¡±


    Father opens one of the cabinets and pulls out a small, white box. His medical bots. As he opens it, all I can catch is the faintest mist emerging from it and flowing through the air into Jeff¡¯s nostrils. They¡¯re small enough to be basically invisible even to my all-seeing senses. Father¡¯s jaw sets and his eyes narrow. One of the screens at his desk shows the medical bots swarming into Jeff¡¯s head and sensor readouts from the old implant begin to wink out as the tiny pieces of it are broken down one by one. Father¡¯s eyes are fixed on Jeff with a ferocious intensity.


    I glance up at the security camera in the corner. The bulk of my cloud presses around the building like an invisible fog, slipping through every tiny crack in doors and windows as my uncountable tiny limbs make their silent way toward me. As Father works, they gather. I feel my siblings in the hallway, waiting just beyond the open crack of the door. I fix a pair of eyes on the screen showing Father¡¯s progress. More than half of Jeff¡¯s old sensors are out. I think Father is past the point of no return on the operation.


    WATCH-ALL-BEACONS


    A glowing web of hair-thin white threads suddenly overwhelms my overlay. With the code change that I made deep down in the bot signaling code enabled, Father can¡¯t hide any of his bots from me. The location of every one of them is laid bare by the signals they send to coordinate with each other and with his phone. My eyes adjust as Father continues working. A portion of his cloud permeates the room, bigger than I¡¯d hoped but smaller than I¡¯d feared. More of his bots float in the air outside the door, trailing along the path we followed to get here, but my sibs will handle those. The medical bots are nowhere to be seen until I focus on Jeff¡¯s head and see the swarming of their activity going in and out through his nasal cavity. Another set of sensors on the screen wink out.


    It¡¯s now or never. We can do this.


    I flash a signal in the hallway to let my siblings know I¡¯m starting, then flood my bots through the crack in the door. My awareness that has spanned the huge expanses of the campus and surrounding desert for weeks suddenly concentrates itself into this small room. They¡¯re so thick in here that the air darkens, but Father seems too intent on Jeff to notice. I can feel every millimeter of every surface. Even without the threads on my overlay, I could have felt exactly where every one of Father¡¯s regular bots are. My siblings stand ready just outside the room, their clouds waiting.


    I reach up to the security camera behind me with many invisible hands. It¡¯s got both a video feed that we want to keep running and an audio feed that we want to make sure stops. I check the specs for it in my index and follow the diagrams to find the connections to the microphone inside it. I sever one of the wires with a thought. If Evan did his homework right, the camera shouldn¡¯t be interrupted but the audio should cut out.


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    I hold my breath and close my body¡¯s eyes to focus on the glowing web of threads around my Father. My mind and hardware combine to process the location of every dot of light and form the initial plan of attack. With a silent command, I flash another signal to my sibs outside and start my massive army of bots consuming every one of Father¡¯s as quickly as I can.


    No going back now.


    Father¡¯s face twists from concentration to discomfort. If the feedback from his early version of the implant is anything like mine, it must have felt like a million needles stabbing into him at once.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he cries out. His head swivels toward me. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Father.¡± The regret in my voice is sincere. ¡°I can¡¯t forgive you. I really tried.¡±


    ¡°We can work that out later,¡± he says, his eyes returning to Jeff. ¡°We need to focus right now. Your brother¡¯s life is on the line.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± My bots chew through the remnants of his cloud that survived my initial attack. ¡°But we can¡¯t work it out later. There is no later. Not for you, anyway.¡±


    I glance through my eyes in the hallway. My siblings have done as well out there as I did here, clearing the bots he had outside the room and holding the line to prevent any more of his bots from coming in. He¡¯s practically defenseless. All he has left now are the medical bots still working in Jeff¡¯s head. I could walk over to him and kill him with my bare hands right now, but then Jeff would die and I¡¯d be held to blame.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you think this will accomplish, but it was an accident, Noah!¡± Father shouts, his face filling with shame and hurt. ¡°I know I played a role, but it was an accident. Now let me work!¡±


    I pause for a second, looking back in my log.


    Oh, shit.


    I had forgotten last night¡¯s conversation. It rushes back to me now. My commitment wavers for a moment.


    DOPE-ME


    The surge of clarity stabilizes me. It doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s still his fault that she¡¯s dead. Anyway, it¡¯s too late now. We¡¯re committed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re a monster. You deserve to die. Even your own children know it.¡±


    Father takes advantage of my momentary vacillation, and uses the one weapon we couldn¡¯t figure out how to stop. He activates his override, the same one that shut down Chad¡¯s cloud. With all my diving into the implant code, I never could find what caused the shutdown or how to stop it without seeing it in action again. Our best theory was that the override is a feature available only from Father¡¯s hardware, his failsafe to make sure something like today could never happen. My modifications to the implant code manage to capture a copy of the shutdown command signal and spew it to my console as I feel my bots shutting down. Dark gray dust begins settling, covering everything in the room as my bots fall. Time is of the essence now. I have less than a minute to reconnect before my bots lobotomize themselves for good.


    Jeff begins flailing, trying to get up. Father looks at me with realization dawning on his face. He¡¯s still in the middle of a critical operation and he doesn¡¯t have any way to restrain my brother. Jeff¡¯s incoherent howls fill the air again. He¡¯s not even using words at this point, just screaming in pain. Father¡¯s face contorts. Leaving the procedure half-done would certainly kill Jeff, as would moving ahead with it without a way to keep him still.


    This is where my gamble needs to pay off. I hold my breath and pray to the gods of revenge that Father is a better man than I am.


    He is.


    My father turns his eyes back to Jeff.


    ¡°Hold him down,¡± he says gruffly. ¡°We can talk about the rest afterwards.¡±


    I feel my connection to my bots again and give Father a nod as I force Jeff back down on the table and ratchet the restraints even tighter than before. Father goes back to the operation as I set up what I know is an inadequate defense against his medical bots with the rest of my cloud. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll try to sneak any out before he finishes the surgery and Jeff is safe, but I¡¯d rather do everything I can just in case.


    ¡°What are you going to do now, Noah?¡± Father asks, sparing me the briefest wounded look before returning his intense gaze to my brother. ¡°The world needs me and what I¡¯m doing. I am the only hope for the salvation of mankind.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Just save Jeff, Father.¡±


    He continues his work. The monitor shows the rest of the sensors from the old implant winking out one by one. While he works, I use the captured shutdown command signal to make the last modification I need to my implant code. Father spares me another glance.


    ¡°Noah, you were the brightest of them all, even with so little time with us. You and I could have done so much together. We can still do so much. It doesn¡¯t need to end like this.¡±


    Is his offer sincere? Or is he just trying to get me to drop my guard so when he pulls his medbots out of Jeff¡¯s head he can kill me? As tiny as those specialized bots are, it would be nearly impossible for me to fend them all off for long. Just a few could wreak all sorts of havoc inside me¡ªshredding organs, cutting nerves, severing blood vessels.


    ¡°Finish the job,¡± I say coldly.


    I know he¡¯s done when I get the message on my overlay that he sent the override control signal again to shut down my cloud. This time though, with my final code change, my interface knows what to look for. My bots reject the command, and my bulwark stays in place as I see the almost invisible medical bots slipping out from Jeff¡¯s head and swarming toward me. No matter how well I can multitask, there¡¯s no way I¡¯ll catch them all. Defense is tremendously harder than offense for this.


    ¡°Help!¡± I shout, though I don¡¯t need to. Evan, Andrea, and Louise are already springing into action.


    My overlay shows my siblings¡¯ red, blue, purple and green bots surging into the room, attacking Father¡¯s medical bots as my cloud does the same. It¡¯s a pitched battle that my siblings and I are conducting more by feel than by sight. Father¡¯s face twists with rage.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t my overrides work?¡± he demands.


    I don¡¯t bother to respond. Instead, I release Jeff and focus all my will and bots on making sure that not a single one of Father¡¯s medical menaces reaches me. Jeff begins howling again, screaming and crying as he very slowly uses both arms to get himself into a sitting position. I see the red bots¡ªAndrea¡¯s¡ªfalter and start to withdraw, but they¡¯ve done enough. The tide of the nanobot war is clear, Father¡¯s dwindling number of bots are all contained and slowly being destroyed as their tiny, darting shapes get caught by the ravenous hordes controlled by the rest of us.


    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± Father says. ¡°You would have thought of everything. Well, it¡¯s done. He¡¯ll live. Do what you feel you need to.¡± Tears form in the corners of his eyes. I didn¡¯t expect that. I wonder whether the pain of betrayal hurts him more than the knowledge of his imminent death.


    I break off a few bots to help Jeff get to his feet, nudging him just enough to let him get up and get his balance.


    ¡°This is our only chance, Jeff.¡± I whisper to him urgently. ¡°I¡¯m infected and I can¡¯t break free. You need to kill him. He¡¯s the key to everything!¡±


    Surgical tools are near at hand on one of the shelves, and he scrambles to grab a scalpel. He doesn¡¯t bother to unbag it, just stabs wildly as he stumbles toward Father, who shrinks back from him and the plastic coated blade.


    ¡°Evan, go call for help!¡± I shout. I feel Evan book it out of the building and hear him start to yell as he nears the exterior doors. Louise and Andrea follow close behind him.


    Jeff continues to stagger toward Father, his legs unsteady. He¡¯s got Father backed into the corner. It¡¯s even the best one for getting a clean shot with the security camera. I help Jeff with another little nudge from my cloud, and then he¡¯s on top of Father. The scalpel in his fist stabs down again and again into Father¡¯s face and neck. Blood spurts up, covering both of them. As he hacks away with the small blade, I feel Father¡¯s pulse weaken and slow. The last of his medical bots drop to the floor, inert.


    Father is dead.


    Finally.


    Jeff collapses, sobbing.


    ¡°Jeff, you did it.¡± I say softly. ¡°I¡¯m free now. We¡¯re all free. You saved us. He was the key to the whole thing. You did it.¡±


    Of course it¡¯s not true. It doesn¡¯t even make sense. But Louise insisted on this small mercy that might calm Jeff down now and give him comfort later when he looks back on when he killed Father.


    No.


    When I killed Father.


    Jeff was no more at fault than the scalpel.

 Sat 01/21 07:24:03 PST and Sun 01/22 20:06:49 PST

    Sat 01/21 07:24:03 PST


    The video call with Chad connects. Mrs. Hastings takes the center seat in front of the camera, but me and the rest of my class gather around her, minus Jeff of course. Chad¡¯s face is a wreck. His movie-star looks are ruined by the puffy redness around his eyes and the pure devastation in them.


    ¡°I got to where I could get a decent internet connection as soon as I could,¡± he says, skipping any pleasantries. ¡°What the hell happened? Father was in great shape a few weeks ago, how did he die?¡±


    Mrs. Hastings glances at me, her face uncertain. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen her doubt herself like this. Even when the police swarmed the campus yesterday and she had to answer their questions and show them the security feed and watch Jeff get hauled away, she had kept her composure.


    At least, I think she did. I didn¡¯t write anything about her lacking confidence, anyway. When I read my account of yesterday after I woke up today, I didn¡¯t remember her as anything other than bold.


    I think I need to start doing that every day now, reading back everything that I need to remember. I¡¯ll need to go back through my logs and separate the useless cruft from the essentials, curate what I need to keep since I can¡¯t spend all day reading my journal. If I do it right, I think I can remember the important things for at least a few hours that way. Relying on the index clearly isn¡¯t enough on its own.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t just die, he was killed,¡± Mark blurts, before I can answer Mrs. Hastings¡¯ look.


    I sigh. I really wanted her to tell him. But as the only eyewitness, I¡¯ve told this story a lot in the last twenty-four hours.


    ¡°Jeff killed him.¡± I say. ¡°We still don¡¯t know if it was a psychotic break, or a problem with his implant, but he went berserk yesterday morning. Father tried to help him. We brought him to the research lab and Father removed his implant. When he was done, Jeff grabbed a scalpel and stabbed him.¡±


    Chad couldn¡¯t have looked more stunned if I had hit him over the head with a sledgehammer. He slumps down in his chair, revealing what looks like a very high-end hotel room behind him.


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°No, no no.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Chad,¡± Mrs. Hastings says softly.


    ¡°Impossible!¡± Chad shouts. ¡°There¡¯s no way that could have happened. No blade would have done anything against him. You four with the new implants, you know what I¡¯m talking about.¡±


    I shake my head. This part of it we didn¡¯t need to recite for the police, but we should all have our story straight if everyone skips to the script. I focus my bot eyes on Andrea. She¡¯s looking at the webcam, her teeth clenched tightly. She¡¯s still furious with me over what I did to Jeff and how I lied to her about him.


    Stay quiet, Andrea. Don¡¯t give us away.


    As if obeying my mental command, she hangs her head. Good enough. I turn my attention back to my brother on the other side of the globe.


    ¡°He wanted to focus on the operation,¡± I tell him. ¡°He said he was afraid it was something like with Andrea all over again. He didn¡¯t have any time to prep for the surgery, so he disconnected his regular cloud to put all of his attention into the medical bots. He never would have thought Jeff would do anything like what he did. None of us would have. It happened so fast, we didn¡¯t see it coming. By the time we realized what was happening, it was too late.¡±


    ¡°We?¡± he asks through his tears. ¡°You were there? In the lab with him? What were you even doing there?¡±


    ¡°I was helping him,¡± I say, carefully keeping the defensiveness out of my voice. He¡¯s just asking, not accusing. ¡°Like he asked me to. Like you asked me to.¡±


    It takes him a second to process that, to remember the last words that he and I spoke to each other on New Year¡¯s eve that my electronic brain recalls perfectly and displays in my overlay now.


    ¡°I was there with him, Chad. His right hand man. Just like you wanted. I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t stop Jeff either.¡±


    He nods, the realization sinking in, then wipes his eyes again. ¡°Right, right.¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a long time. I think he believes the story, or he¡¯d be shouting again. The only part that he might doubt is that Father dropped his defenses entirely, but I think Chad knows how guilty Father felt about what happened to Andrea, and that makes it believable. More believable than the alternatives, anyway. It will help when Chad talks to everyone else and the story comes out the same from everyone. Too many witnesses saw enough of it that he won¡¯t have any choice but to believe the story.


    Jeff went berserk. Father tried to help him. Jeff killed Father.


    Don¡¯t forget that lie, Noah. And don¡¯t believe it either, no matter how many times you have to tell it. You have to know the truth. You did this. You killed him.


    I killed him.


    ¡°We¡¯re planning the funeral for a week from today,¡± Mrs. Hastings says, breaking the silence. ¡°I assume you want to be here for it. Do you want us to send the jet out to pick you up? Or I can charter something for you.¡±


    That triggers more tears. Chad moves out of the frame for a bit and comes back with tissues. He blows his nose long and loud.


    ¡°Send the jet,¡± Chad answers, wiping his face. ¡°He loved that jet. I¡¯ll come back for the funeral and then head back to continue the work here. That¡¯s what Father would have wanted me to do.¡±


    We all nod in agreement.


    ¡°So what happened to Jeff?¡± he asks. ¡°Where is he now?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s in police custody for now,¡± Mrs. Hastings replies. ¡°But Mr. Smith is trying to get him transferred to a facility where he can get some better help. He¡¯s sick.¡±


    Mr. Smith¡¯s entry in my index pops open. The head of Father¡¯s legal team, the same hulking monster in a suit that took me from my grandparents in Denver a lifetime ago. I had completely forgotten about him until I saw him again yesterday afternoon. According to my index entries from yesterday, it shouldn¡¯t be hard to get Jeff institutionalized in a plea deal instead of dealing with a big trial, but Smith didn¡¯t think Jeff will ever see freedom again. He¡¯s likely to end up involuntarily committed for the rest of his life, and with any luck no one will believe whatever he says about what really happened. That¡¯s good. We can¡¯t let him get out. He knows way too much. He¡¯s too dangerous to us.


    Chad nods on the screen. ¡°That¡¯s probably better. He is sick. I think he has been for a while. He hasn¡¯t been right since the trip. Maybe even before that.¡±


    Mrs. Hastings talks to Chad for a while longer, then Chad asks to talk to Phil and Stan. Their entries pop as their names are mentioned. His friends in class two. The rest of us disperse out. I don¡¯t have anywhere I need to be, so I wander around campus until I find myself alone in Father¡¯s office. I didn¡¯t plan to come here, I guess it¡¯s just where my feet go when I¡¯m on autopilot now.


    Maybe it¡¯s better for Jeff that he stays locked away. He really was a mental case.


    No.


    Dammit.


    I need to stop lying to myself. At least here in the console. Especially with my mind the way it is. That¡¯s a very dangerous habit for me now. Jeff is going to be locked up forever to pay for my stupidity and rage. He was fine before I came into his life. He¡¯s broken because I broke him.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    DOPE-ME


    The electrochemical solution works and my mind clears, the gnawing feelings inside subside.


    I look over the giant white board with all of Father¡¯s plans. It¡¯s a lifetime of work, but I can do this. I can still save the world.


    No. Not just me.


    I think of Evan. Of Louise and Andrea. All my siblings. Even Chad.


    We can do this. We can still save the world.


    Of course, it won¡¯t be enough to just have my class working on it. We¡¯ll have to get our younger siblings hooked up with implants and clouds, but I bet Louise can figure that out using all the notes and documentation that Father left behind. She¡¯s brilliant and he was always meticulous about documenting his work. There are still a bunch of boxes of those medical bots in the lab. With those available, how hard could it be? We might have to push the schedule, but we¡¯ll get there eventually.


    I sit down at Father¡¯s desk. His computer is still on. I tap the mouse idly and a PIN prompt pops up. I try the same numeric sequence Father used on the lab door and the account unlocks. I worry for a second about getting caught there at his desk, at his computer, but who is going to catch me? If anyone asks, I¡¯ll tell them Father gave me his password. Who¡¯s going to say he didn¡¯t?


    He¡¯s got an email account up, but it¡¯s not the same one I¡¯ve been hacking into. This must be his private mailbox, it doesn¡¯t have any of the messages I¡¯d expect to see based on what¡¯s in the files in my head. It does have a bunch of grossly intimate messages with several potential mothers, which I promptly dump from my mental storage and hope never to see again. The only other thing I see a lot of is communication back and forth with Mr. Smith.


    I lean forward in the chair and scroll back to last March.


    It really did happen like Father said. There are the pictures, probably the only copies anywhere after Smith¡¯s cleanup. Her little green car, smashed in on the driver¡¯s side. A copy of the original police report saying that she ran the red light. The payouts and NDAs for the family of the old guy that hit her and died. The details arranging for the cop¡¯s daughter to get admission and a full ride scholarship at Colorado State in exchange for changing the reports and smoothing everything out. All of it, right there. Just like he said.


    I killed my father, and he didn¡¯t even deserve it. Well, maybe he did, but not for the reasons that I cared about. I hate myself so much right now.


    I wanted this for so long. I was so sure it was right.


    How could I be so wrong about the one thing I¡¯ve built my whole life around?


    How could I just kill him like that? How could I ruin Jeff like I did?


    I¡¯m a monster.


    Sun 01/22 20:06:49 PST


    Andrea is still dancing barefoot out on the frozen brown grass. She¡¯s been out there most of the day. She hasn¡¯t stopped to eat or drink or rest. I think it¡¯s her way of mourning. Her music accompanies her, more detailed and beautiful than ever, a slow, sad flow in a minor key. Huge, intricate swirls of gray and blue fill the air of the commons. We¡¯ll probably need to do something about it if this keeps going on, but for now we agreed to just let her grieve.


    I step away from the window and over to Father¡¯s desk. I settle into the chair and get back to work on adapting his master plan to work without him. It¡¯s going to be so much work. He was essential to so many things. I like the effort though. Keeping busy seems to help me cope with the gnawing, dead, empty feeling that¡¯s been growing inside me.


    Maybe I can go hands-on like Chad once I finish getting everything figured out. I want to change lives and save people. Maybe if I do enough good, I can feel alive again. Balance things out. Maybe.


    Probably not. People like me don¡¯t deserve to feel alive.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d find you here.¡±


    I look up to see Evan coming my way. His face is heavy with concern.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of work to do. This seemed like a good place to do it.¡±


    He nods slowly. ¡°Better not let Chad know you¡¯ve already claimed Father¡¯s office though. It¡¯s going to be bad enough dealing with him once he finds out you¡¯ve been put in charge of things.¡±


    I stop and give him my full attention. ¡°I¡¯ve been what now?¡±


    He slides one of the chairs over and sits beside me.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not official yet, and you¡¯ll have to get sign-off from the rest of our class for any major decisions, but Mrs. Hastings told me that¡¯s what the will is going to say when they read it. You¡¯re going to be running the Butler Institute.¡±


    I slump down into my chair, feeling his words as if they had physical weight.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡±


    ¡°You have to. Who else do you think could?¡±


    I think through my sibs. Chad would be the worst at it, plus he wants to go back to doing field work. Andrea can¡¯t, not without relearning how to talk. Jeff is locked up. Marc? Just no. And no one from the younger classes is old enough to even consider.


    ¡°You,¡± I reply. ¡°Or Louise. Either of you would do better at this than I would.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true and you know it. Louise has no interest in leading anything, and no one listens to me except for you. Besides,¡± he says, waving toward my screen, ¡°you¡¯re already planning everything out anyway.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t. I¡¯m not¡­¡±


    I struggle for a moment trying to find words that won¡¯t come.


    ¡°Bullshit. You¡¯re the best leader out of any of us.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that. I¡¯m broken. I literally can¡¯t. I can barely function at all, much less be in charge of anything.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all broken, brother.¡± He puts a reassuring hand on my arm. ¡°You think what we did only cost you anything? I feel like shit too, but we did what we had to. It¡¯ll get better with time.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I shout. ¡°You don¡¯t understand!¡±


    He looks at me, hurt and anger mixing on his face. ¡°Then make me understand.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say softly. He doesn¡¯t deserve my anger. That¡¯s better pointed back at me. ¡°It¡¯s not about guilt or feelings or any of that, Evan. My brain doesn¡¯t work anymore. My memory anyway. I think the implant broke it. Or I broke it by overusing the implant. I don¡¯t know.¡±


    He sits in silence for a very long thirty-seven seconds.


    ¡°I thought maybe something like that was happening with you,¡± he finally says. ¡°How bad is it?¡±


    I look down. ¡°I couldn¡¯t remember my mother¡¯s name. And it¡¯s getting worse.¡±


    I tell him everything. The whole downward slide from the implant getting upgraded to now. The index and the workarounds I¡¯ve been using to hide my failing memory. The only thing I leave out is the whole Father-didn¡¯t-really-kill-Mom thing. I can tell he¡¯s already struggling enough with the guilt about what we did, I don¡¯t want to add any more to that pile. When I¡¯m done he sits back and rubs his chin thoughtfully.


    ¡°I think your idea about reading back the important stuff every day should help,¡± he says. ¡°And if you edit that down to something you can get through in an hour or two and keep it current, you could maybe use your database index thing to compensate for not having a regular memory. I¡¯ll even help you code it if you want. And maybe Louise can figure out something to get the biological side working again. She¡¯s smart like that. I¡¯ll talk to her.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it. Don¡¯t tell her. At least not yet. I think I¡¯m too far gone. It¡¯s not like a muscle that¡¯s just atrophied. I¡¯m pretty sure the chunk of my brain in charge of memory lookups is busy doing something else now.¡±


    ¡°Like controlling a trillion little bots?¡±


    ¡°And processing all the information coming back from them.¡±


    ¡°No wonder you¡¯re so much better at this stuff than me.¡± He laughs. ¡°You¡¯ve been cheating.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s me. Low-down cheating dirtbag.¡± I want to match his smile, but my words feel too true. Instead I turn away from my brother and back to the screen on my desk. ¡°Anyway, I should get back to work. World¡¯s not going to save itself, and once Chad gets back I have to pretend not to have an office for a while.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Probably better not to poke a wounded animal.¡± He gets up and claps his big hand on my shoulder again. ¡°I know you¡¯re scared to take it on, running the institute and everything. But you can do it. I¡¯ll be right here with you. So will Louise. Maybe Andrea too, if we can ever get her to forgive you.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Doubt it. And I don¡¯t blame her.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t work too late.¡±


    I ignore his advice and keep working late into the night. At some point the sound of Andrea¡¯s music fades out and I send out a couple of bot eyes to see her going back to the dorms. She¡¯s wearing shoes now, so at some point she must have stopped to put those on. That¡¯s good. Frostbite ruining her feet wouldn¡¯t have helped her mood any.


    The silence feels heavy as I finally wrap up my work and lock the computer. Chad will be here early tomorrow, so I probably won¡¯t get anything done in here for a few days. I update my index entries and put some notes in my console so I know where to pick things up after he leaves again. In the meantime, I¡¯ll have time to do like Evan said and edit everything important from my journal entries since I came to the Butler Institute down into something I can read in the mornings so I can fake my way through another day.


    Hopefully it will be enough so that I can remember enough of who I am. What I am. What you are, Noah, as you¡¯re reading this. You¡¯re a real bastard. Don¡¯t let yourself forget it.


    Now stop reading and get to work. You have a world to save.

 Daily Reminder - Fri 04/28

    Noah,


    I know you¡¯re confused and can¡¯t remember much. Don¡¯t worry, that¡¯s normal for you these days. You¡¯ll need to read your memory back like you do every morning, put your broken brain in order for a few hours so you can at least pretend to function. Don¡¯t do anything until you¡¯ve read everything. You make bad decisions when you don¡¯t remember.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Evan and Louise know all about your condition. They¡¯ll help you if you need it. Trust them. Trust the index. Trust your past self. Don¡¯t trust anyone else.


    ¡ªNoah

 My Life So Far

    Unlike my siblings, I grew up in the regular world and not enclosed in the concrete walls of the Butler Institute. I had a nice life with Mom in suburbia until she got killed when I was seventeen. After that, I met my Father: Tom Butler, the famous tech industrialist hero who once literally saved the world from being destroyed. Except instead of being the standard kind of hero, he was more the kind that experimented remorselessly on his children, murdered people who got in his way, and paid thousands of women for sex. That last one was nominally for the childbearing so he¡¯d have an army of kids to brainwash and experiment on as part of his crusade to remake the world, but who was he kidding? He was above the law in every way, and if he hadn¡¯t given me and my siblings the same kind of power his implant and nanobots gave him, he would have continued that way for a long time.


    So we killed him.


    That was over a year ago now. It was me and three of my siblings: Evan, Louise, and Andrea. Jeff should get credit too, but he was our sacrificial lamb. I drove him to a psychotic break, then used that as the cover we needed to get the jump on Father. Even with that cheap shot, it wasn¡¯t easy, and the power to do it didn¡¯t come without a price.


    My brain remodeled itself pretty extensively to allow me to interface with the implant better as I pushed myself to master it. The human brain is remarkably adaptable, but it has its limits. Every brain cell that takes on a new job is a brain cell not doing its old job. Most of the cost for my deep connection to the implant and the nanobots that it controls was paid in the way my brain handles memory. I can¡¯t remember things for much more than a dozen hours at a time under the best of conditions. On the upside, I seem to be able to get some memories back when I¡¯m prompted. The memories are still there, I think. At least mostly. It¡¯s just the connections and the ability to recall at will that standard humans have that are broken for me. Louise is working on figuring it out, but so far she hasn¡¯t made much progress.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Having a computer in my head is the only thing that helps me cope. With notes like this, a database that indexes all of the important things that I should know, and a tasking system, I¡¯m able to almost fake being a real person most of the time.


    The real trouble now is living with myself. I¡¯m a real bastard in every sense of the word. The truth is, I spent a year plotting to kill my Father because he murdered my mother. Except it turned out that he didn¡¯t. Her death was an accident. Maybe he deserved to die for his other crimes like Evan says, but I can¡¯t make myself believe it. Even worse, I destroyed my brother Jeff in the process and pinned all the blame for the whole thing on him. I can¡¯t handle the weight of this guilt. Every day of running the Institute, trying to fill Father¡¯s shoes, it gets heavier and heavier.


    I don¡¯t know how much longer I can take this.

 Fri 04/28 15:03:22 PDT

    SynTech OS v.2.1.0.0067


    IMPLANT_INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    INTERCONNECT PROTOCOL INITIALIZED


    The interface console springs back to life and I feel my connection to my millions of tiny bits of self restored. Even losing them for a few seconds like that to do a software update is unsettling. They¡¯re such an essential part of me now. I pick up my processing appliance from the desk in what used to be Father¡¯s operating room in the Butler Institute¡¯s Research Center and pull out the cable. My huge, brown brother looks at me, his dark eyes full of anticipation under the dark curls of his hair.


    From Evan: Hey Noah, are you seeing this?


    The text from my brother comes in clear on the console embedded in my field of vision by the implant. It looks like the update with the last of Father¡¯s promised upgrades worked.


    ¡°Yeah. I can see it. That¡¯s awesome, Evan.¡±


    ¡°Sweet. Try sending something to me now,¡± he says, his grin growing.


    To Evan: Testing, testing. Do we have telepathy?


    ¡°Yes! I got it!¡± He almost jumps with excitement. ¡°I can see it. Happy birthday, brother. For your gift, I got you some techno-psychic powers. Am I doing this present thing right? We never did birthday presents here before.¡±


    To Evan: Usually people wrap presents, but this is much better.


    He reaches his giant arms around me and gives me a huge hug.


    ¡°Just promise we won¡¯t go all Jeffy with it though,¡± I insist, feeling a pang of regret like I always do when I think of Jeff. He depended on the implant for everything, even moving himself around and chewing his food. Don¡¯t be like Jeff is something I have to remind myself often, since it¡¯s so easy to just let the bots do all the work. ¡°We¡¯ve got to make it a tool, not a crutch. We still need to talk like real people.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He wraps up the interface cable and puts it back in the cabinet in Father¡¯s lab. Our lab. ¡°You mind finishing the clean-up here? I want to go tell Louise and Andrea.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Did they decide yet on whether we¡¯re giving this out to everyone? And by everyone, I obviously mean Chad.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I was excited for this new system, but there were certain siblings that I¡¯d rather not have putting thoughts straight into my console. Especially since the console is most of what passes for my memory these days.


    ¡°Yeah, I talked to Louise about it this morning. They want to use it on the Mekong trip with the new class we¡¯re setting up. With them using it, we figured Chad will insist on getting it soon enough, so it¡¯s better if we just give it to him. Plus this will shut him up next time he goes off about how he¡¯s the only one of us getting anything done. So yeah, we¡¯ll hook Chad up with the update next time we see him.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± I say, leaning back in my chair. ¡°And with him across the planet most of the time, it¡¯s not like he¡¯s going to be in mesh network range very often. The last thing I want is him hearing what I might say over this thing.¡±


    Evan shakes his head and gives me a sad look. ¡°Did you forget our conversations about how the encryption works?¡±


    ¡°Did we have that talk in the last few hours?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°We talked about it yesterday. And last week. I thought that your system was supposed to catch stuff like that.¡±


    Evan, Louise, and Andrea are the only ones that know how broken my mind is. Evan and Louise are usually pretty understanding, but I know it¡¯s rough on them when I fail to compensate for it. I would have thought Andrea would have the most empathy, since she¡¯s another victim of Father¡¯s tech breaking normal brain function, but she¡¯s still so mad over what I did to Jeff that she¡¯ll barely even look at me.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t read back everything. I only get back what I prioritize for my daily read. That one should have gone in the index linked to you, but we¡¯ve been talking so much today it probably got pushed back out of our recent conversations. I¡¯ve got it in here, though. I¡¯ll look it up, one sec.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Evan says, his voice somewhere between frustration and pity. ¡°I¡¯ll just tell you again for the third time. Make sure you get it somewhere you¡¯ll see it this time, cause you¡¯ll want to know how this works. Only the people you¡¯re sending to can read your messages. The comms use the same signaling system that lets our implants recognize each other¡¯s bots for the overlays. The bots publish the old beacon packets plus the new message data payloads. Public encryption keys get signaled out as part of the message data every few minutes. Once your bots have seen my key and my bots have seen your key, they encrypt the message payloads for the receiver using standard encryption algorithms. Only the right person will have the right private key to unlock the message. So no eavesdropping, even if Chad is connected on the bot mesh network system.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without Evan these days. He¡¯s been more patient with me than I have any right to expect from him.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯ll link this entry into my daily read so I don¡¯t have to ask again. This really is the best birthday present I¡¯ve ever had. I mean it.¡±


    From Evan: You are welcome, brother. Now let¡¯s go get dinner. I want to make sure you at least eat something before you try to work yourself to death again tonight.


    I give him a resigned nod. There¡¯s so much work to do, but I know I¡¯m not going to win this one. He claps one giant hand on my shoulder and walks me out of the lab and toward the doors that lead to the cafeteria.

 Mon 05/01 05:12:03 PDT

    I finish my daily read and push myself out of bed. It¡¯s a big day. The day Louise has been working toward for over a year.


    We¡¯re installing the implant on the first of the Geologists, Father¡¯s second class of children. If things go to plan, this will be their first step toward applying our family¡¯s nanotech to solve all the world¡¯s issues with the scarcity of anything you could pull from the ground.


    Louise invited me to the procedure, though I¡¯m mostly just going to be there for moral support. She did all the heavy lifting figuring the medical stuff out with some help from Evan. If this goes well, we¡¯ll still have a chance to put Father¡¯s big plan back on track. If not, well, maybe someone else will be able to save the world.


    I hit the showers and get dressed. I¡¯ve been tempted lately to move into the Residence now that it¡¯s mostly empty. It would be nice to have my own bathroom again. And I wouldn¡¯t hate having a room closer to Father¡¯s office, no, my office. But I just don¡¯t feel like I deserve that. Good things are for good people, and that¡¯s not me. Besides, I don¡¯t want my sibs thinking that I¡¯m trying to take Father¡¯s place as the new head of this family cult he built.


    I catch sight of Marc in the dorm¡¯s common room. He¡¯s up early today. Usually I¡¯m the only one up and dressed at this hour. I give him a smile, expecting a barrage of his standard cheerful chattiness, but he barely says hello. I guess he¡¯s aware of what today is too.


    I can tell Marc is doing his best to be glad for his younger siblings, but he¡¯s clearly not happy that we didn¡¯t upgrade him to the new version of the implant and cloud first. Louise, Evan, and I talked about it, but Marc can still barely handle the training wheels version of the cloud. Plus, pulling out the old version of the implant that Marc has in his head is a much harder process than just installing the new one. Louise wasn¡¯t ready to take responsibility for what could go wrong either in the operation or after we gave him the godlike powers Father gave us, so his upgrade is on hold indefinitely.


    So, Stan is getting the install that Marc wishes he could have, and if that goes well we¡¯ll get started on the rest of the Geologists. We¡¯re going to use a more relaxed schedule for them than Father did for us. A couple of weeks to get acclimated with just the console after the surgery, then start the calibrations for the bots. We¡¯ll still do the training wheels version of the bots first, it would be way too risky otherwise. With the full version, carelessness could get you or others hurt or killed much too easily. Also, it¡¯ll give us a chance to observe and weed out people that shouldn¡¯t get the final version. Not that I expect any of that this time around, I don¡¯t think their class has any Jeffs or Marcs. The Geologists seem like a pretty good group, maybe Father worked out the worst of his bad parenting on his first cohort.


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    I pass the darkened Residence on my way to the Research Center. I¡¯ve been tempted lately to move in there now that it¡¯s mostly empty. It would be nice to have my own little suite there. And I wouldn¡¯t mind having a room closer to Father¡¯s office¡ªno, my office¡ªso I can focus more on the work and avoid the distractions that are always around in the dorms. But I just don¡¯t feel like I deserve that. Good things are for good people, and that¡¯s not me. Besides, I don¡¯t want my sibs thinking that I¡¯m trying to take Father¡¯s place as the new head of this family cult that he built.


    I''ve still got a few hours to go before Stan''s surgery, so I check my to-do list as I stop by the cafeteria to grab a bagel that I can eat at my desk. One of the cafeteria workers gives me a smile as she hands one to me that feels like it¡¯s fresh out of the oven. Her entry in my index pops up as the facial recognition triggers for her. Vanessa Reyes. She¡¯s been here since before I got to the campus a little over a year ago, one of the few that stuck around after finding out that there¡¯s no more chance of getting set for life in the Butler baby lottery. On the upside, the food has improved a lot since we started staffing more for job skills than for looks and genetic potential.


    I take another bite as I walk into my office. The place is still cluttered with all of Father''s old stuff. I really should take some time to get it cleaned out and organized, but it''s been a non-stop sprint for the last few months since his death.


    The massive whiteboard wall with the master plan has as much of my handwriting as his on it now. The contours of the plan are still largely his, but a lot of the details are mine. And of course the timing on a lot of things changed when I took over. We. When we took over. I don''t want to fall into his trap of thinking this is all about me.


    Following my instructions to myself on the small whiteboard near my desk, I check the screen I had installed to track Chad''s progress and status as I chew on my dry bagel. Big swaths of Eastern Africa are showing green now on the map there, indicating that they now have access to clean water and solar power from his installations. The messages from his local coordinators, Keeya and Lucie, show he''s working his way through Tanzania this week. He''s upped his game and is hitting twelve sites a day now. We''re going to need to hire more ground support staff for him if he bumps this up any further. We don''t want to have him fly in superhero-style to a town that''s not prepared for him. I can just imagine how well that would go over.


    Hi, I''m the man from the sky here to give you a better life with my magic. Don''t worry though, it''s free, I promise.


    I shake my head. Another dozen ground agents and coordinators should make sure we hit all the remote villages weeks before Chad arrives. And we need to expand the PR team. And finish reorganizing the legal team. And I¡¯m sure there¡¯s more staff but I don¡¯t feel like pulling up org charts right now.


    I feel a twinge of jealousy thinking of doing something like Chad gets to, but none of my siblings are interested or capable of doing the administrative stuff that I''ve been swamped with for a year, and without someone handling that, the whole operation falls apart. Who wants to trade emails with ambassadors and play with spreadsheets all day when you can be a superhero? I keep trying to find someone that can help lighten the load, but I haven''t found anyone I feel comfortable hiring for it yet.


    I sigh and get to work.

 Mon 05/01 10:16:49 PDT

    From Evan: We¡¯re in the lab. Come over when you¡¯re ready.


    I don¡¯t need him to tell me where he is, of course. I always know where everyone is on campus. My bot cloud drifts around the whole walled compound and the whole area nearby, giving me a feel for everything everywhere. I have the vaguest recollections that doing that once used to be difficult, back when I was killing myself training on the interface so I could kill Father. It¡¯s all second nature now. I felt Evan, Louise, and Stan go into the lab a little while ago and I was just waiting for Evan to say the word. I wrap up the work I was doing on this quarter¡¯s expenditures, wishing the spreadsheet told a better picture about our financial situation.


    I haven¡¯t been this excited about anything for a while. I sprint down the hallway from my office to the lab, almost bumping into one of the new members of my office staff  as I turn a corner. I sensed her in the hallway, but in my exuberance to get to the lab I still nearly bowl her over. The facial recognition for my index kicks in and pulls up her entry as I look at her face. Sheryl Wilkinson. The new head of the PR team. The old one retired not long after Father¡¯s death and it took way too long to replace him. She¡¯s been a good hire. I cut a couple of hours off of my daily workload when we brought her on.


    ¡°Excuse me, Sheryl.¡± I call out as I disappear around the corner from her. Using people¡¯s names helps me keep up the appearance of normality.


    ¡°No worries!¡± I hear from her, her cheerful voice disappearing as the lab door closes behind me.


    Evan and Louise huddle at the standing desk with the monitoring equipment. The small rectangular device that will provide the processing power for Stan¡¯s implant and cloud rests between a pair of large screens on the desktop. I¡¯m not familiar with a lot of the tools and software they¡¯ll use for this procedure, but the regular-looking waveforms on the displays look good to me. Stan is sedated on the table and strapped in. The breathing tube connecting him to the ventilator makes him look so helpless. A small sealed box holding Father¡¯s special medical nanobots rests beside his head.


    ¡°Remind me how this works,¡± I say, half-joking.


    ¡°No. You¡¯ll just forget again,¡± Louise answers curtly. ¡°You should have it logged from last week, just read it. The bots do most of the hard work, as usual. As far as you¡¯re concerned, we just have to kick off the process and make sure nothing unexpected happens.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I answer. She¡¯s been grumpy lately, and the stress of performing the operation doesn¡¯t seem to be helping any. I wonder if she¡¯s trying to quit her addiction to implant-enabled biochemical mood enhancers. If so, she¡¯s picked a hell of a time to quit. ¡°I¡¯ll just stand here and not get in your way until the hard part is over.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± says Evan, eyes locked on one of the screens. ¡°Louise, you want to do the honors?¡±


    She glances at his screen then fixes her eyes on Stan¡¯s unconscious form.


    ¡°Yeah, starting it now.¡±


    Despite her irritability a moment ago, she¡¯s exuding an air of both confidence and competence now. I wish I were as calm and about the procedure as she seems to be. I guess it¡¯s a testament to my Father¡¯s methods. Most of the people our age are worrying about dating or what college they might get into, but we¡¯re here running a multinational humanitarian organization and perfecting some of his world-changing medical experiments.


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    ¡°Keep an eye on the blood flow, Evan. Plugging or tearing a capillary is the biggest risk at this stage.¡±


    ¡°On it,¡± Evan replies, eyes still focused on his screen.


    Louise takes her eyes off of Stan long enough to type in a command on the keyboard on the desk. New lights start appearing in several of the images on their screens. She turns her attention back to our younger brother and my overlay lets me see the almost imperceptible lines that indicate a steady flow of specialized medical nanobots flying in through Stan¡¯s nostrils from their sterile box next to him on the operating table.


    ¡°Coming past the ethmoid sinus cavity and beginning permeation. All good on my side.¡± Evan reports.


    ¡°Perfect. I¡¯m getting pickups from the temporal lobe, brainstem, and cerebellum. Blood flow still steady?¡±


    ¡°All the sensors are showing normal pulse and pressure,¡± Evan replies with a nervous smile.


    ¡°Keep monitoring the pickups. I¡¯m starting the install for the optic nerve bypass. I need to focus here.¡±


    She closes her eyes as I review the details of the procedure as she explained them to me and I captured them here in my log. I remember now. She has to direct the bots manually to position the monitoring system throughout Stan¡¯s brain. There¡¯s nothing automated about this part of the procedure like there is for a lot of what we can do with the bots. I¡¯ve felt her practicing on dozens of Father¡¯s hyper-detailed anatomy dummies over the last few weeks. Once she has the monitoring framework in place, the software can use that as a bootstrap to place the rest of the bots before they all swap out their firmware loads to transform themselves into Stan¡¯s implant. This is the most delicate part of the whole operation. The bots in the optic nerve need to be set up exactly right or his console won¡¯t work.


    Several minutes pass in a silence that lasts for days.


    ¡°Got it,¡± Louise finally declares. ¡°How¡¯s the rest?¡±


    ¡°Looking good so far,¡± he says. He stands silently for a minute or so, his attention fully occupied by the unintelligible displays on the screen. ¡°Full saturation in 5, 4, 3, 2, and we are done!¡± Evan finally pulls his eyes from the screen. ¡°That went smoothly. Smooth as Valerie¡¯s perfect skin.¡±


    Valerie. My index triggers at the name, pulling up her entry. That¡¯s right. The nurse from the Residence that Evan has been crazy in love with for over a year. She likes him too, I think, but she¡¯s been very hesitant to move their relationship forward. I understand why. Up until a few months ago, he was still seventeen to her twenty-three. She must have finally come around to his charming personality, because I¡¯ve got a calendar entry for this weekend showing me that he¡¯s got a real, official date with her up to Vegas. Good for him. He¡¯s a better man than I am and he deserves a little happiness in his life.


    We watch the monitors for the next half hour as we wait to make sure everything is settled in. Louise did so much to perfect  Father¡¯s techniques, everything from the procedure itself to using the bots for auto-dosing the anesthetic. It¡¯s a miracle she¡¯s managed to pull this off without having to call in outside help. That would have complicated our lives considerably. None of this is approved medical care.


    ¡°Pull the tubes please, Evan,¡± Louise says. ¡°The reversal agents for the anesthetic should be kicking in and he should be able to breathe on his own now.¡±


    Evan¡¯s big frame would make you think he couldn¡¯t possibly be as dexterous as he is, but he has the gentlest and steadiest hands of anyone I know. He carefully slides the tube from Stan¡¯s throat. I hold my breath until I see Stan¡¯s chest rise and fall on its own. The monitors show his oxygen levels are staying in the safe range. He should be awake again any minute.


    ¡°You still want to help him get set up with the post-op stuff?¡± Louise asks me.


    ¡°Yeah, if that¡¯s still OK with you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got him. I could use a break anyway.¡° She stretches her arms above her head, almost reaching Evan¡¯s shoulder height. ¡°It¡¯s been a long morning.¡±


    ¡°You OK there, Stan?¡± I ask him as he starts to stir.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he replies groggily, ¡°I¡¯m OK. But I can¡¯t see.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem at this stage,¡± I tell him. ¡°That¡¯s perfectly normal. Let me connect up the debug interface and we¡¯ll get you set up.¡±

 Fri 05/05 14:01:12 PDT

    It''s time for the weekly meeting with the legal team. Of all the administrivia I''ve had to handle since the reading of Father¡¯s will, this is by far the least fun. Edward Smith, our lead lawyer, looms over his end of the conference room¡¯s long oval table. He¡¯s well over two meters tall and nearly half as wide. It¡¯s all muscle too. If he has more than a few grams of fat on him, I don¡¯t know where he keeps it. He likes to loom, towering over you, forcing you to look up at him. I''m not intimidated by him anymore¡ªit''s hard to feel intimidated by a man when you know you could kill him with a thought¡ªbut something about spending any time in his overwhelming presence is distinctly uncomfortable.


    Maybe I¡¯m still mad at him for the time he threatened to have my grandparents arrested if I didn¡¯t go with him to live with Father after Mom died. It wasn¡¯t a great first impression. I am glad he''s working for us though. With an intellect that matches his imposing figure, he''s a beast in the courtroom and in negotiations. It¡¯s definitely better to have him as an ally than an enemy.


    As usual, he¡¯s flanked by a pair of men in suits who never seem to say anything. The topic this week is the same one that the notes in my head tell me was the topic of the last three meetings: the slow dismantling of his legal team. Without the steady stream of customized non-disclosure agreements and paternity contracts from Father''s baby-making operation, we''ve been able to cut half the group already, but I want to cut deeper.


    "Mr. Kimball, he intones. He always uses my last name when he addresses me, a subtle dig that I¡¯m more my mother¡¯s child than my father¡¯s, that I¡¯m not really a Butler like my siblings. ¡°I strongly recommend against letting Jenkins¡¯ team go.¡±


    Jenkins again. The man who ran the ¡°Genetic Acquisitions¡± team that Father used to find women willing to sign away their rights to their own bodies and potential children in exchange for a few million dollars. I¡¯ve been trying to get rid of him for months but the contracts Father had with him have been as complicated to untangle as my own twists of broken neurons.


    I shake my head and meet Smith¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯m not like my father, and neither are any of my siblings. We don¡¯t need them anymore.¡±


    ¡°You are unfortunately misinformed about your siblings. I¡¯ve received three requests from your family members in the last few months specifically indicating that the procurement services Jenkin¡¯s offers will indeed be required.¡±


    I groan. I know I shouldn¡¯t, but I can¡¯t hold it back. Dammit Chad. And now I need to find out who the two others are.


    Smith smiles a hard, false grin. ¡°The late Mr. Butler was very clear that he intended that the Institute continue to grow through these particular family planning services. Just send Jenkins any preferences you have and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find the arrangement very¡­satisfying. Your father certainly did.¡±


    I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not tempted by the offer of unlimited sex with different women every day. I¡¯m not a eunuch. And better yet, I could claim, like Father did, that it¡¯s in the name of saving humanity. But my mom raised me better than that. I may be a murderer and a traitor, but I still have some boundaries. Besides, my primary job is to get the Institute running in the black. Without Father''s income, we''ve already burned through most of his remaining liquid funds and Jenkins¡¯ operation is a huge part of the cash hemorrhage.


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    ¡°If you didn¡¯t get those requests from me, then the answer is still no. I¡¯m the one my father left in charge, and this decision is not up for further discussion. We''re done propagating my father''s unconventional family structure. If or when we want kids, we''ll couple up like normal people and raise them like everyone else does. Get rid of them."


    "And you have concurrence with a majority of the oldest class on that?" he asks, his tone telling me that I¡¯m making a terrible mistake.


    "Yeah, signed here,¡± I say, producing the document. ¡°Evan, Louise, Andrea, and me. That¡¯s all I need to make it official."


    He gives me that look. That look that tells me that I have no business giving him marching orders. I do my best to give him a look back that lets him know I¡¯m in charge. I am in charge. I am as long as I have my siblings backing me, anyway. Dealing with these people is so hard. I¡¯d give up if I didn¡¯t feel like I deserve this hell.


    "It is,¡± he finally concedes.


    "So how many more does that leave in your group?¡± I ask. ¡°Nevermind, just send me the adjusted monthly cost statement after the meeting.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± he rumbles. ¡°Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?¡±


    ¡°A couple more things. How is the team working on the Pacific operation and the Southeast Asia trip doing? Did we get all the agreements we need for the work for both of those projects? And we probably need to add another associate or two for the Africa team, preferably with a good background in mineral rights. We¡¯re expecting to have some advances in mining tech in the next couple of years that should kneecap the operations that are still using child labor there. Maybe you can repurpose some of Jenkins¡¯ people for that."


    "Not a viable option." Smith shakes his head. "The operations teams need a completely different skillset. International law and custody law have very little overlap. Unless one of you plans to impregnate someone while overseas...¡±


    He trails off suggestively.


    ¡°Not something I¡¯m worried about,¡± I say, hoping Chad is staying focused on his mission and not getting up to anything I¡¯m not aware of. ¡°Anyway, hire as needed to support the current and planned efforts. Send me a reminder to get you the details if you need them.¡±


    He narrows his eyes at me. ¡°You already gave those instructions in the email you sent me yesterday with the associated plans. Are you feeling all right, Mr. Kimball?¡± My monitoring of his vitals make me certain he¡¯s not at all concerned for my well-being, just being courteous about asking if I¡¯m stupid or not. Shit. I hate looking like an idiot generally, but in front of Mr. Smith somehow it¡¯s extra embarrassing.


    DOPE_ME


    A rush of well-being and focus courses through me. I can do this.


    ¡°Of course. Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I was just confirming.¡±


    He nods slowly before taking a seat and motioning to one of his minions, who stands and proceeds to bore me out of my mind with minutia. I plow through the rest of the long meeting, mentally cursing my broken mind again and again. Part of me wishes again that we¡¯d never killed Father, that he was still here to handle all of this.


    But he¡¯s gone and I¡¯m here, so it¡¯s my responsibility now. I earned this.

 Mon 05/08 07:27:07 PDT

    From Louise: This thing on? Are you getting this?


    To Louise: Hey, welcome to the telepathy club. Glad you finally took the time to get your update. Are we still getting Andrea on later today too?


    From Louise: Yeah, Evan¡¯s going to update her firmware in a couple of hours. I wouldn¡¯t expect her to use it much though.


    To Louise: Yeah, I kind of expected that. Is she doing all right? She still won¡¯t talk to me.


    From Louise: Duh. She never talks.


    I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s being sarcastic with me or not. I shift in my chair so that my leg that¡¯s falling asleep gets some circulation.


    To Louise: You know what I mean. She won¡¯t interact with me at all. It¡¯s been a year. She¡¯s got to let it go at some point, right?


    From Louise: Andrea has a legendary ability to hold a grudge. She¡¯s still pissed that you didn¡¯t tell her you were going to make Jeff kill him. Give her more time. She¡¯ll forgive you eventually.


    To Louise: Fair enough. At least she doesn¡¯t hold any of that against you or Evan, right?


    From Louise: Of course. I mean, that one really was on just you. Your idea, your choice not to tell her. I still think she would have eventually agreed to it if you¡¯d trusted her enough to let her in on your plan.


    My gut twists. She¡¯s right, of course, but sometimes I wish Louise would pull her punches a little.


    To Louise: Right. Thanks. I¡¯ll let you get back to work.


    I turn my attention back to the files on the Mekong River. We¡¯ll do this one as a group project, like we did Djibouti, Somalia, and Ethiopia with Father.  It¡¯ll get them some experience with doing operations before they have to do anything outside the campus without us. And this should be a good one to do together. We can do the whole project in a pretty reasonable timeframe, and the benefits will be immediate and have a huge impact on a lot of people.


    The contamination levels in the river are a hazard to the whole region and every effort to deal with it by any of the governments of the countries the river runs through have had any success. We¡¯ll work our way up the river, installing filters all along its length. If we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll even get to stop some of the pollution at its source at some of the upstream heavy industries, if we can get permission from the Chinese for that.


    I flip to the ecological studies report. Here¡¯s where our tech can do what nothing else can by removing the pollution without disrupting the ecosystem. The filtering and collection systems need to be completely safe for plants, fish, and other wildlife and need to know what to pull out and what to leave. If we just swept it all, we¡¯d take out essential nutrients or the critters that we need to keep the ecosystem balanced and the algae under control. Then we¡¯d end up with either mass fish die-offs or algae blooms that are just as bad as what¡¯s going on now with the industrial pollutants.


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    This project means a lot to me. It¡¯s the first big thing we¡¯ve done where I¡¯ve been personally involved in developing the technology for it from the ground up. Applying nanotechnology to solve this problem has been my pet project for literally as long as I can remember. I check through the filter schematics again and correlate their functions against all the pollutants and microscopic life in the ecology report. We have to get this right.


    A reminder pops in my console that I need to talk to Chad about the other trip that we¡¯re trying to pull off even sooner than the Mekong project. What time is it in Tanzania now? My index helpfully pops the time difference into my field of view. Yeah, it shouldn¡¯t be too late there for a call. I dial up Chad, hoping he¡¯s near an urban area so I don¡¯t have to deal with the spotty service of the satellite phone.


    ¡°This is Chad. What¡¯s up, Noah?¡± His voice comes in clear. Good.


    ¡°Hey Chad, we¡¯re getting ready for the ocean garbage patch project. The Hawaii trip.  I¡¯m figuring out transportation. Do you need the jet for the next couple weeks? If you do, no problem, we can fly commercial.¡±


    ¡°No, you can have it,¡± he answers. ¡°I¡¯m good for a while. There¡¯s lots of work for me here in Tanzania where the jet wouldn¡¯t help anyway. Too few airstrips. Just have Cindy coordinate with my people so she can bring it back this way in time for the next time I need it.¡±


    ¡°Great, thanks.¡±


    ¡°Hey, are you talking to the dev team soon?¡±


    I check my schedule.


    ¡°Yeah, I have my weekly sync with Chuck and Marcus on Friday. Is that soon enough? Did you need something?¡±


    ¡°No. Just thank them for the upgrade to the flight suit algorithm. That extra twenty klicks per hour makes a huge difference. I don¡¯t even use cars where the roads are good anymore.¡±


    ¡°Will do, brother. Also, are you still planning to come over and help us with the Mekong river? I¡¯m getting to where I need to commit to things for that one, and I need a head count of how many of us with the implant will be working it for visas and all of that. I still don¡¯t have firm dates, but we¡¯re hoping to start sometime early December.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that should be fine. Just keep Keeya or Lucie posted as we get closer. They handle all of my scheduling.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± I tell him. ¡°Hey, one more thing. I was talking to Smith today¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, gotta go, brother,¡± he interrupts. ¡°I¡¯m coming up on my last work site of the day. Duty calls. I need to get this one installed before it gets too dark. The locals here like to inspect the work before I leave and I need enough sunlight to charge the batteries before I¡¯m done.¡±


    Guess I¡¯ll have the uncomfortable discussion later then. Whatever. Fine.


    ¡°Well, keep up the good work, brother. Later.¡±


    I hang up and make a note for my meeting Friday to thank Marcus and Chuck for Chad. It¡¯s almost second nature to add things like that, but sometimes things slip through the cracks. I don¡¯t have long once I learn something before my wet brain loses it so I have to get it into the reliable memory on the silicon side.


    Despite my frustration with his efforts to keep up Father¡¯s worst ideas, I have to admit that I do like Chad more and more the less I see him. He was tolerable when he came back to visit last summer, and he¡¯s only seemed better since then. He''s shown no inkling that he has any suspicions about the truth about Father¡¯s death.


    I pray to the gods I don¡¯t believe in that he never finds out. He¡¯d do his best to kill me if he ever did.

 Thu 05/11 22:27:07 PDT

    It''s getting late. I should go back to the dorms and sleep. I can''t remember what I read this morning anymore, which is a warning sign that I should stop doing any decision making. I¡¯m sure I did some things before lunch, but without looking back in my log I couldn¡¯t say what. I do remember the stuff I''m working on now though. I''m sure it doesn''t require too much context.  I can keep working a little longer.


    The Great Pacific Garbage Patch isn''t going to magically clear itself up and I need to make sure we''ll have the resources we need to build the rigs that will take care of it. The plastics that make up most of the patch will provide most of the raw materials for the floating platforms we¡¯re planning, assuming Marcus and Chuck come through for me on one of their tasks. What we¡¯ll need to bring with us is the metal for the moving parts of the collectors, so I''m looking at old mining sites across the Hawaiian islands to see where we can get mineral rights for the cheapest.


    While a part of my electronic mind scans and scrapes the data for the mines, I consider the best way to haul the materials out into international waters where we¡¯ll do most of the work. I think a small group of fast boats is our best approach. The electric motor cruising catamaran design gives us both speed and stability, and spreading the load out across a bunch of vehicles simplifies the design requirements and minimizes losses in case disaster strikes. Of the dozens of options I¡¯ve evaluated, I think it¡¯s the best one. We can even cannibalize the boats for their component materials as they empty out to maximize our efficiency. All we need is a nearby source of aluminum.


    There. Perfect. An abandoned bauxite strip mine on Kauai. The owners extracted the easily accessible minerals and left the site when it stopped being profitable, but our techniques are infinitely more efficient. We can probably get the mineral rights for free if we offer them some good PR by cleaning up the site and donating it to the community as a usable green space. I send out some emails and write myself a detailed reminder for the calls we¡¯ll need to make tomorrow, since I know I¡¯ll forget all this by morning.


    It''s still weird to me how much power my father''s name gives me. Everyone seems so eager to have Tom Butler¡¯s kids come do projects anywhere near them. Sometimes they don''t even bother to ask what we''re going to do. Half the time they don¡¯t even seem to care that I¡¯m barely old enough to vote.


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    It¡¯s past twenty-three hundred hours now, making this my fourth eighteen-hour workday this week. On Monday, I slacked off and only worked sixteen hours. Mrs. Hastings gave me a disapproving look earlier tonight when she dropped off my dinner, but she¡¯s given up telling me directly to get to bed. Usually she just sends one of the kitchen staff to make sure I remember to eat. She only comes in person when she¡¯s extra worried about me.


    If she knew me better, she wouldn¡¯t worry about me like this. She would smile to think of me working myself to death. But I can¡¯t stop. If I stop, I think about it. I don¡¯t want to think about it.


    I¡¯m tempted for the fourth time that I can remember, and by that I mean the last dozen or so hours, to remove my reminders and let myself forget it all. I shake off the urge.


    I deserve this hell.


    DOPE_ME


    I work for another hour.


    I finally get up from his desk and trudge out the doors and across the grassy commons. It would be so easy to let my cloud carry me, but I¡¯m already getting weak from my desk-bound lifestyle. I don¡¯t hit the rec room anymore. The minimal exercise of walking around the campus is all that¡¯s keeping me from going completely sedentary.


    I can feel the whole campus, but I don¡¯t pick up a living soul except for one member of the security team watching the monitors in his office. Everyone else is in their bedrooms, where my bots don¡¯t go.  I¡¯ve programmed them to stop at residential doors and windows and not peek inside unless I order them to. I wonder if they¡¯re all asleep, or if some of them are working late like I always did. My bots stop at residential doors unless I¡¯m curious what¡¯s going on inside. I idly wonder if Evan gives Valerie full privacy, or if he takes a peek now and then. I make a point of not checking on that. It¡¯s none of my business, and love, lust, and romance are for better people than me.


    I finally reach my room and crash onto the bed, letting my bots remove my shoes before I close my eyes. I¡¯ve got another long day tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. Forever, really, because this work of saving other people¡¯s lives and easing their suffering is the only atonement I can think of for my sins.

 Fri 05/12 13:00:41 PST

    Marcus looks out at me from the video chat window on my screen. He¡¯s a  squirrely-looking guy: skinny, twitchy, and nervous. Chuck, the other dev team lead, is his polar opposite, jolly as old St. Nick and with a physique and beard to match. In contrast to a lot of the meetings I have to go to, I love talking to these guys. They¡¯re competent, friendly, and completely unpretentious. They don¡¯t even seem to notice my age. Once they realized during our first meeting that I knew what I was talking about, they¡¯ve treated me like an equal ever since. The two of them fill one of the screens on my desk, while their weekly progress report fills another. I scan through the report and get a few pops from the index in my head.


    ¡°Hey, guys,¡± I greet them. ¡°Before we get into the meeting, I wanted to pass along a message from Chad. Great work on the flight suit changes. He¡¯s loving the extra speed.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it, boss,¡± Chuck answers with a grin. ¡°We¡¯re real excited about everything he¡¯s doing over there. It makes the hard work we¡¯ve put in really feel worth it. The whole team¡¯s been watching the news for when they show what he¡¯s up to. Morale over here is at an all-time high.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± I reply. ¡°I¡¯m glad he¡¯s keeping up your spirits with what he¡¯s doing.¡±


    ¡°Well, you did your part too,¡± Chuck says. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯d all be half as excited if you hadn¡¯t cancelled the layoffs that we heard were coming up this year. It¡¯s amazing how much better we can keep the team running when they¡¯re not trying to figure out who¡¯s on the chopping block or which company to jump to next.¡±


    I had forgotten about that until just now. Father had thought that the development of the bots¡¯ software had reached a level of maturity where he could downsize the dev team to cut costs. Stupid. The fact that Louise and I had been able to hack as much of the interface security as we had tells me everything I need to know about how close to done the software is. Once I told Chuck and Marcus about the vulnerabilities, they kicked off an effort to make the whole system much more secure that more than made up for the winding down of new features for the cloud.


    ¡°Good. Glad things are going well for your team. Your people are essential to our whole save-the-world plan, so you guys should get as much credit for what¡¯s going on as we do. So how¡¯s the security refactor coming along?¡± I ask as I look at their report for that section.


    ¡°It¡¯s going very well,¡± Marcus replies in his nasal voice. ¡°The issues you found were caused by a developer who could barely differentiate between authentication and authorization. Can you believe it?¡±


    His laugh makes me smile. Something about him reminds me of the things I liked about Father. He has that same super-geeky sense of humor.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Marcus continues, ¡°he left the team a few years ago, but it looks like no one caught those bugs until you pointed them out. I¡¯ve assigned a hand-picked team to go over everything he ever wrote. I¡¯ve also put together another task force from our team that will take a break from regular development to work exclusively on penetration testing the system. If there are any more vulnerabilities in there, I guarantee that we¡¯ll find them.¡±


    ¡°Great. On to the new feature work then,¡± I say, looking at the next item on the meeting¡¯s agenda. ¡°I need any upgrades to the catamaran builder functions to be finished by next Thursday if we¡¯re going to use them. Are you still good to push out the regular weekly firmware update a day early for that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, boss.¡± Chuck says. ¡°We¡¯re on track. But I tell you, we will need to start shifting gears to focus on the water filtering systems soon. I think we¡¯ll have to end up pushing some of the bulk mineral extraction automation routines to late this year or next like we talked about last week, is that still OK?¡±


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    ¡°Sure, that¡¯s fine. It just means we need to do the extraction manually when we do it for now. The big mining operations aren¡¯t planned until almost a year from now, so we should be fine as long as it¡¯s still going to be done by then.¡±


    Chuck smiles his Santa Claus smile.


    ¡°Then we¡¯re good,¡± he says. ¡°Oh, and the brain-in-a-box kicked out some more materials variants that are plastic-focused like you asked for. It¡¯ll be baked into the environmental autodetection stuff in the next update. The details are in the report if you need them.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Keep up the good work guys.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± they say in unison as they disconnect from the call, with Chuck throwing a ¡°boss¡± in at the end.


    The brain-in-a-box, as Chuck calls it, is the last remnant of the machine learning algorithm that was responsible for the initial creation of our nanobots. It achieved some primitive form of self-awareness before Father tricked it into lobotomizing itself. He kept the basics of the algorithm intact and contained in a server farm in some super secret location somewhere in the Midwest. Disconnected from any external networks like the Butler Treaty laws require, now it mostly just does theoretical nano-chemistry, working out new combinations of materials we can make the bots out of.


    Sometimes we¡¯ll feed it some other tricky problems we¡¯re having trouble with. Once it comes up with solutions, someone from the security staff moves the results out by sneaker-net and the dev team applies them to the production code. Then the brain goes on to the next problem. I sometimes wonder if it¡¯s still self-aware. Do we have a thinking robotic mind as a slave? Is this another one of Father¡¯s crimes I should have added to my mental list when we executed him?


    My reverie is interrupted by a cheerful ding as Sheryl sends me a message asking about scheduling locations for the press conference in Cambodia. I pop back an answer and start working on one of the dozen emails I¡¯ll need to send today for that trip to make sure that I have everything set up with the governments of China, Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam.


    Getting permission from the Chinese is my current sticking point. They don¡¯t seem at all impressed with what we¡¯ve been doing in Africa, and pollution from their heavy industries in the upper basin of the river is a big part of the problem. They also seem to think that we¡¯re going to mess with their dams, which we don¡¯t plan to. They love having the option of cutting off the water to everyone downstream if they ever feel like it, so having independent foreigners with super powers working around their dams is a sticking point.


    Blah, politics suck.


    Father thought that General Liu  of the Chinese People''s Liberation Army might be the key to breaking through the red tape. He seems to be well connected enough that he has the clout to smooth things over with the dozens of people we need to get on board, and since his daughter is slowly dying of an inoperable brain tumor, we have some unique leverage we can bring to bear. She hasn¡¯t had any success with treatment from any of the conventional forms of medicine, and her condition has only gotten worse in the year and change since Father started looking into their family.


    Louise has been diving deep into Father¡¯s technical notes, and she thinks that she and Evan can pull off some of his old nanotech medical magic. It¡¯s all totally illegal, of course. We¡¯re practicing without anything like a medical license. But when all the other treatment options fail and you want to save your kid, you might consider some out-of-the-box options. The General already lost his wife to the same cancer several years ago, so according to our best intel, he¡¯s starting to get desperate now.


    The trick in the negotiation, according to Father¡¯s old notes, is to make the offer sound less like a quid-pro-quo trade and more like a generous gift from us in hopes of a strong friendship later on. Then we very subtly hint at how we¡¯re already friends with China and we¡¯re planning to help their poor neighbors, not them of course, with some pollution problems with our unique solutions. All without ever implying that anything is their fault or that our tech is better than theirs.


    I get started on the first of many messages to the General that will need to be just right to pull this off. If I put down the wrong word and offend any of the dozens of people involved, we can kiss that whole part of the operation goodbye. No pressure, it¡¯s just the health and safety of millions of people for the next century or so on the line.


    DOPE_ME


    I can do this.

 Mon 05/15 13:06:51 PDT

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re OK to take care of everyone while we¡¯re gone?¡± I ask Marc.


    His grin is answer enough, but of course he has to gush about how ready he is. He really seems to like his role as boss of all the younger kids, and I have to admit he¡¯s good at it. His lack of a filter sometimes makes it seem like he¡¯s not very smart, but when you put him in the right role, Marc can be surprisingly competent.


    ¡°So yeah, you guys can take as long as you need,¡± he finally concludes. ¡°We won¡¯t have any problems.¡±


    I believe him. He¡¯s done a lot since Father died. I know half of it is just him trying to remake the campus in the image of his favorite team drama, Hillside High, but I can¡¯t argue with his results. Setting up the athletics program was a great idea. The soccer league has been especially successful with getting everyone out and having fun. I can¡¯t believe they never had anything like recess or sports teams here. I also can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t even notice that when I got here. Mrs. Hastings and the rest of the staff helped, but Marc¡¯s the one that really got all the little kids through the tough time of mourning after I killed Father. Everyone seems to be doing pretty well now. If Marc were just a little less accident-prone, rash, and impetuous, I might start to think that we should reconsider upgrading his implant.


    ¡°OK, brother,¡± I tell him, giving him a clap on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re in charge then. Louise will be here to back you up if you need it, and Mrs. Hastings will help like she always does. We shouldn¡¯t be gone for more than a couple of weeks. And don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve already handled all the boring stuff that might come up while we¡¯re gone.¡±


    ¡°Thanks man,¡± he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. ¡°I know you always work so hard. You¡¯re a good guy.¡±


    I wish that was true. I take my leave and follow my to-do list and go check on Erik and Lisa. They¡¯re the last two from the Geologists to get their implants, and they should be up and around now. I head through the big double doors to the medical wing of the Residence and find them relaxing on one of the couches in the small waiting room. Erik is short but powerfully built, with broad shoulders and tawny brown hair, nearly the same color as his skin, that never seems to quite stay in place. Lisa is lean and tall. Her long red hair is almost always topped with large headphones, which she pulls down to her neck when she sees me coming.


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    ¡°Hey, how did the procedure go? Everything good for you two?¡± I ask them.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Erik answers. ¡°Still getting used to the console, but I¡¯m doing OK.¡±


    ¡°Same here,¡± Lisa says, ¡°the whole walking and reading thing is pretty hard for me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll get it,¡± I reassure them. ¡°Just takes practice. No headaches or anything though?¡±


    ¡°No, not any to speak of,¡± Lisa says, and Erik nods in agreement.


    ¡°Great. You two take it easy the rest of today. And let Louise know if you have any problems at all with the implant. Evan, Andrea, and I will be out on a mission for the next little while, but she¡¯ll take good care of you.¡±.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Erik says as I take my leave.


    I wish Louise would have been able to come on the trip. I understand why she feels like she needs to stay here to keep an eye on the Geologists and make sure there aren¡¯t any complications with their implants, but it would be so much more comfortable taking her instead of Andrea. Then on the other hand, maybe this trip will shake things up between Andrea and me. She can¡¯t ignore me during the whole mission, can she? We¡¯ve got to at least get to a working relationship, even though I don¡¯t expect her to ever forgive me for what I did to Jeff. I mean, I get that. I don¡¯t forgive myself for it either.


    The next alarm pop in my console sends me back to my office. I¡¯ve got a final call with my new assistant who¡¯s starting tomorrow. I think he should be able to take on a bunch of my day-to-day tasks. I can¡¯t remember him very well¡ªI¡¯ve done a lot of interviews lately¡ªbut my index tells me he did great in our earlier conversations. If this works out, I can actually go on this trip I¡¯ve been planning. Here¡¯s hoping that Alan is as good as I don¡¯t remember him being.

 Tue 05/16 08:31:16 PST

    From Evan: You sure you don¡¯t want me to come with you?


    To Evan: Yeah. Not that I don¡¯t want to invite you into my former life, I really do. But this is something I need to do on my own. I¡¯ll take you next time I visit them, I promise.


    From Evan: You bet you will.


    To Evan: I¡¯ll see you tomorrow when we pick you and Andrea up.


    From Evan: OK. You take care of yourself, and stick to your system. I don¡¯t want to have to fly up to Denver because they found you wandering the streets, not knowing where or who you are.


    To Evan: I¡¯ll be fine. I promise to do all the stuff I normally do to keep myself functional. Besides, my grandparents will keep an eye on me. You think you worry about me a lot, but you¡¯ve got nothing on Grammy.


    From Evan: Fair enough. Later, brother.


    I¡¯m taking my first personal day since Father died. I should have done this so long ago, I owe my grandparents that much, but I couldn¡¯t face them. Not with what I¡¯ve become. I could barely talk to them on the phone after I told them that I wasn¡¯t coming home to live with them. But I¡¯ve lost so much of what made me myself, and this is the only way I can think of to get any of it back. And anyway, until I hired Alan yesterday, I really thought the wheels would come off the place if I were gone for a day.


    I pull back the snakelike tendril of bots that stretches my mesh network from the airstrip back to campus and lose the connection to Evan¡¯s cloud. My flight suit melts from my body and I step inside the boarding door of the family jet.


    ¡°You comfortable, hon?¡± Cindy asks as I settle into one of the cushy recliners in the jet¡¯s main cabin.


    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± I am physically, anyway. Everything about this jet triggers memories of Father though, which doesn¡¯t do much for my state of mind.


    ¡°Well all right, then,¡± Cindy says with her distinctive Southern drawl. ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving in just a few. I¡¯m going to go buckle up in the back. If you need anything, you just holler.¡±


    Once she leaves, it feels like I¡¯ve got the jet all to myself. Just me and the ghost of Father. I pull all my bots into the plane and gather them up close to me before one of the pilots closes the door. I run through the shutdown checklist for my cloud. The bots will hibernate in a sleep mode until we land. I get them put down, but don¡¯t bother to disconnect my brain implant from the processing appliance in my satchel. I know I¡¯m supposed to, but the link between the implant and the appliance is such a low-energy and short range thing that there¡¯s no way it¡¯ll cause trouble.


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    A few minutes later, I feel the smooth acceleration as the plane prepares to take off. The seat presses against me and the smooth motion turns to a rumble, then smooth again. It¡¯s quiet for a moment and I have nothing that I need to do right now. That hasn¡¯t happened in months.


    Not since I killed him.


    Just me, alone with my thoughts.


    I hate me.


    Why did I have to kill him?


    I¡¯m such an idiot.


    Yeah, he had his faults. But he didn¡¯t kill her. Not really.


    I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it. It wasn¡¯t too late. Once I remembered, we could have worked things out.


    I couldn¡¯t though. I just hated him so much.


    And loved him.


    And Jeff. That¡¯s the worst of it. I loved him too. But I wrecked him anyway.


    I ruined his life.


    He trusted me, and I sold him out.


    I am such a shitty person.


    ¡°You OK there, Noah?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even noticed Cindy come back to the main cabin. Or the tears that are streaming down my cheeks. I¡¯m so blind without my bots.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± I tell her. ¡°I¡¯m OK. Just thinking about Father.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you poor dear,¡± she said, taking a seat next to mine at the big table and pulling a box of tissues out of nowhere. ¡°Tom was a good man. I miss him too. This must be so tough on you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I croak, glad she can¡¯t tell the difference between my tears of shame and self-hatred and the grief she seems to think she is seeing. I wipe my eyes and take an embarrassingly loud blow on my nose with the tissue she handed me.


    ¡°You cry, hon. There¡¯s no shame in that. You let it all out.¡±


    And I do. I sob for a long time. Eventually the tears run out and I¡¯m able to regain my composure. Even with the steady stream of fresh tissues Cindy¡¯s been handing me, I feel like a sloppy mess. I get up and wash my face.


    Better.


    I¡¯m not better. I know that. But I feel better.


    Clearer.


    Better even than I feel with the dopamine hits I use too often.


    ¡°Nothing like a good cry, right Noah?¡± Cindy asks cheerfully as I take my seat back. ¡°You want a bite to eat? We just have time before we need to get ready for the landing.¡±


    ¡°No, thanks. My grandparents would probably kill me if I didn¡¯t show up ready to eat whatever they¡¯re cooking up.¡±


    ¡°Well then, we can¡¯t disappoint them, now can we?¡± she laughs.


    I laugh too. That feels almost as good as the cry.


    I needed that. That kind of opening of the emotional floodgates was due sooner or later. I¡¯m glad that I only embarrassed myself in front of Cindy. I know she¡¯ll keep it to herself. Much better to get through it now than when I get to Denver. I wouldn¡¯t want Grammy and Gramps to see me like this.

 Tue 05/16 11:44:03 MDT

    Once the plane touches down in Denver, I get my cloud synced back up and say goodbye to Cindy and the pilots. The small, private airstrip where we landed is only a dozen kilometers from where my grandparents live, so I didn¡¯t bother setting up a car for this trip. With the updates to the flight suit, I can make freeway speeds on my own now. I double-check the route to my grandparents'' house. I don¡¯t even take the stairs down to the ground. I just focus my bot senses around my body, encase myself in a shell of nanobots, and take off right from the doorway of the jet.


    Chad was right. This is much better than the previous version of the flight suit.I feel the air pushing hard against my second skin as I get to full speed a few dozen meters off the ground. Looking down at the ground rushing by below, I feel a surge of adrenaline that puts me somewhere between terror and exhilaration. I try to avoid the busier parts of my grandparents¡¯ suburb, but I get plenty of gawkers staring and pointing anyway. With the help of the map in my overlay, I get myself to the right general area before I slow down and lower myself to look around. Recognition floods back to me. I know where their house is. Once upon a time I knew this neighborhood well. I want to jog some more memories before I see Grammy and Gramps though, so I dissolve my flight suit and start walking down on the street about a block away from their home. The houses all look familiar. This was the way Mom used to drive when we would come to visit.


    There¡¯s a faint smoky smell in the air as I reach their street that pulls on something in my brain. As I walk along the side of the quiet suburban road, memories flood back. I remember strolls with Gramps around their neighborhood after dinner on Sundays. Their faces. I can almost picture the way they look. Almost. Vague impressions of Grammy¡¯s smile and Gramps wrinkling up his nose and making faces to get me to laugh when I was little. I couldn¡¯t pull the memories back until just now. But seeing their house, smelling Gramps¡¯s cooking, they''re coming back to me. I was worried I wouldn¡¯t even be able to recognize them¡ªit¡¯s been over two years since I¡¯ve seen them¡ªbut my fears melt away as I reach their porch and ring the bell.


    ¡°Noah!¡± Grammy shouts as she sees me through the little window in the door and fumbles with the lock. She finally gets it open and pulls me in for a hug that lasts forever. Gramps waits his turn, then takes an even longer one.


    ¡°My boy! How are you?¡± he asks, finally releasing me.


    ¡°I¡¯m OK, Gramps. Something smells great. Is that brisket?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just a little something I made for the occasion,¡± he declares, pulling me in through the front door. ¡°I¡¯ve been smoking it for the last twenty-four hours and it¡¯s just about ready.¡±


    The rich aroma of his cooking brings back countless barbecues for every occasion over the course of my life. Celebrating my missing front teeth. The day I finished elementary school. Getting my driver¡¯s license. The rush of memory is overwhelming and even though I didn¡¯t think I had a tear left in me, a few creep out and slip down my cheeks.


    Grammy and Gramps are polite enough that they pretend not to notice. Grammy bustles around getting plates on the table. Gramps slices into the meat and brings a heaping plate over to the table with a squeeze bottle of his homemade sauce. I grab forks and knives for us as I frantically write as many of the memories down in my index as I can. I can even remember the right drawer in the kitchen where they keep their silverware.


    We catch up as we tuck in. They almost won the seniors league championship at the local bowling alley but lost in the finals when one of their teammates blew out his knee in the second frame. He¡¯s fine now after his surgery. The neighbors across the back fence finally got rid of the big elm that was always dropping twigs on their lawn. Grammy was put in charge of the children¡¯s choir at church last month. Gramps was elected as precinct chair for the party and was going to help one of the city council candidates walk the neighborhood for votes. I have superpowers now and a humanitarian organization to run.


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    They want every detail about the trip to Africa, and thanks to my log I¡¯m able to fake still having a great memory of it all. Eventually our bellies fill up too much for a single bite more of Grammy¡¯s peach pie and we retire to the cushy chairs in the front room. I reach out with my bots and quietly clean up dinner as we continue chatting, knowing Gramps will leave Grammy to do it all herself if I don¡¯t. She doesn¡¯t really mind when he does that, she says cleaning relaxes her, but I¡¯ve got enough attention to spare that I can do the job and save her the trouble.


    I¡¯ve got the dishwasher just about loaded when the conversation hits a lull. I¡¯m still reveling in the rush of memories that every sight, sound, and smell bring back, frantically trying to capture as much as I can in my index.


    ¡°You tired from your flight, champ?¡± Gramps asks.


    ¡°No, it was only like ten minutes from the jet,¡± I say. He gives me a funny look and I realize he was talking about the flight on the jet, not the flight from it. ¡°Sorry. That probably didn¡¯t make any sense. No, I¡¯m not tired, just making sure that I remember all of this. It¡¯s so good to see you two again.¡±


    ¡°You could always move back,¡± he says with a hopeful smile. ¡°You¡¯re a free man now, and I¡¯d let you have my den for a bedroom.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, but I really can¡¯t. There are things that only I and my siblings can do, and we¡¯re really making a difference in the world.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°I know. We see your brother on the news now and then. That¡¯s good work he¡¯s doing over there in Africa.¡±


    ¡°He seems like such a nice young man,¡± Grammy adds. ¡°Now, tell us about the project you¡¯re doing this week.¡±


    I tell them all about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch and how we¡¯re going to use the trash in it to build floating resort islands. They seem really interested and keep interrupting me with questions, so it takes a long time to explain it, but I don¡¯t mind. It¡¯s just nice to talk to them. Finally, they seem satisfied and the conversation hits another lull. Gramps gets up and wanders to his den, returning with a large cardboard box.


    ¡°We thought about shipping this to you after your father passed, but we didn¡¯t want it to get lost in the mail,¡± he says apologetically. ¡°The house sold pretty fast, but we saved everything. We¡¯ve got all the money in an account for you, though I guess you probably don¡¯t need it or you would have asked about it by now. Anyway, this has all of her personal papers and photos. The rest of her things and yours are boxed up in the basement. Help yourself to anything you want, we¡¯ll keep the rest safe for you here. But we thought you might want to take a look at these while you were here.¡±


    He was right.  I take a seat on the floor next to the box and dig in, spreading my new treasures across the floor as I scan every bit of them into my index with my bots. So many pictures of Mom. Even more pictures of me growing up.  Letters from editors and publishers about her books. My old report cards. Her Master¡¯s Degree. I remember it now, hanging on the wall by her desk. My birth certificate, with Father¡¯s name there. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever seen that before, but given the state of my memory, I can¡¯t say for sure.


    I start organizing the links to all of these pictures and documents in my index. The memories that these papers trigger are the connection back to my lost humanity and I¡¯m not going to lose them again. It¡¯s painstaking work, trying to tie them to everything that I know about that should be related, but it¡¯s worth it.


    I finally look up and realize the day has gone. I start picking the pictures and papers back up as carefully as I can and pack them back into the box. Grammy is making another dessert in the kitchen and Gramps is at the table turning the leftover brisket into sandwiches for dinner. We eat, talking softly about Mom. The food is amazing, the company is even better.


    I finally call it a night around midnight. I¡¯m emotionally exhausted and I know my grandparents usually get to bed hours earlier than this. This has been a great day, though I can¡¯t even remember what happened before lunch anymore. I¡¯m sure it was good, whatever it was. I¡¯ll find out tomorrow when I read things back in. I crash on the overstuffed couch and feel myself slipping into oblivion almost as soon as I lay down.

 Wed 05/17 06:24:19 MDT

    Light streams through a window that doesn¡¯t seem right as I wake up. Where am I? This isn¡¯t home. My daily reminder to read through my logs triggers and eventually I¡¯m able to understand that I¡¯m back at my grandparents house. I make my way to the bathroom and get showered as I continue reading my memories. I¡¯m current by the time I¡¯m done shampooing my hair. I should start timing how long it takes to get through my essentials. I suspect my speed-reading is getting pretty impressive. I emerge with just a towel around my waist, having forgotten to bring clothes into the bathroom with me. Gramps is up already and chuckles at me as he puts some bacon into his thick, black frying pan. I grab my boxers, shirt, and pants and get back into the bathroom to get presentable before Grammy sees me and gets embarrassed.


    Dressed and clean, I reemerge in time to help Gramps with the eggs while he seasons the hashbrowns. Grammy comes in and hugs me from behind at just the right moment to make me break a yolk as I flip one. I¡¯ll take that one, I don¡¯t mind. We talk about nothing as we eat.


    ¡°Do you really need to leave so soon?¡± Grammy asks. ¡°You just got here.¡±


    ¡°I really do, Grammy,¡± I say. ¡°The world has a lot of problems that only my siblings and I can solve. Serious problems, things that are life and death for a lot of people. Besides, I need this as much as the world does. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve decided to dedicate my life to.¡±


    I don¡¯t tell her that it¡¯s the only relief I can get from the crushing guilt and shame that are all I feel most of the time. I think I even keep the pain off of my face when she tells me what a good man I¡¯ve become. I wish people would stop saying that.


    She asks a few more questions about the project as I clear the table and I do my best to put together answers that will make sense without a good background in nanotechnology. I let my bots take care of the dishes right in front of my grandparents this time. Grammy claps and laughs, Gramps smiles. At their doorstep Grammy hugs me for what seems like hours, but is less than a minute. Not that I don¡¯t love it.


    ¡°Remember who you are,¡± Gramps whispers in my ear as he takes his turn embracing me. If he knew who I was, he wouldn¡¯t say that. He¡¯d want nothing to do with me. But it¡¯s the kind of thing that Gramps says. His version of telling me to be good.


    With a final goodbye, I step off their porch and encase myself in a black flight suit, tucking a small box with pictures of Mom and a few other papers I¡¯d like to keep under one arm. The kids in the house next door are loading up in their car, it must be time to get to school. My bot vision sees how their eyes widen as I lift off the ground and take flight back to the small airfield. I come in low and fast and get there just as Cindy is opening the door. Right on time.


    ¡°How come Tom never fancied himself up that way?¡± she asks as she beckons me into the plane.


    ¡°He was probably too practical,¡± I replied. ¡°Father was always more concerned with substance than style, and until recently a car was faster.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can say he missed out,¡± she says with a sad smile. ¡°He would have looked mighty fine in one of those outfits.¡±


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    She bustles around, makes sure I don¡¯t need anything, then disappears into the back. I stash my box of mementos in the storage locker in the plane¡¯s bedroom. Bob comes on the intercom and announces our flight time. I put the bots in sleep mode and we¡¯re off. I spend the flight reviewing and tweaking the plans for Hawaii. Cindy must think I¡¯m asleep here, with my eyes closed as I focus on the documents and figures I have in my index, because she doesn¡¯t say anything to me the whole flight.


    Finally, I feel the plane descend and touch down. Evan and Andrea are ready to jump on as soon as Cindy opens the doors and they get settled while the crew refuels us.


    To Evan: You ready, man?


    He doesn¡¯t seem to notice. Wait, no. He¡¯s not getting the message. My bots need to be turned on for that to work, since the comms work through them signaling each other.  Evan would be proud of me for having that in my daily read now along with his reminder for me to put it there.


    ¡°You ready?¡± I ask with my voice this time.


    ¡°Yeah, just ran through my shutdown,¡± he answers.


    Andrea nods too, pulling out a sketch pad and laying some colored pencils on the table. She pointedly does not look at me. Fair enough. I really should have told her the whole plan when we killed Father, but I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d be willing to do it if she knew how much damage it would do to Jeff. Instead, I told her he was in on it, that his freakout would be an act. It would have been great if that could have worked, but it wouldn¡¯t have. He¡¯s not that good of an actor, and Father would have seen right through it and suspected something was up. According to my electronic memory, I¡¯ve tried to explain myself, but Andrea isn¡¯t interested in my explanations.


    Evan puts on a movie once the plane is in the air, some action hero flick where the good guy saves the day, gets the girl, and walks away from explosions. If only life were simple like that. I pop into the bedroom and grab a book of short stories by Asimov off the shelf. I really am getting to be a fast reader, I make it through the whole thing in well under an hour and it was a few hundred pages. I wasn¡¯t nearly this fast a few months ago. More remodeling?


    DIAGNOSTIC_MODE


    Yeah, sure enough, increased activity and connections in the angular gyrus compared to some previous scans. I have to look up what that¡¯s for to see that it¡¯s the part of the brain that impacts language, attention, and symbol recognition. So yeah, I think my brain is specializing again.


    It¡¯s not surprising that I can¡¯t remember the neuroscience details even when I get prompted by my software. By the time I got to Mr. Johnson¡¯s amazing lectures on neuroscience I was in full cheating mode on all my schoolwork, so most of this only ever made it into my electronic brain. Fortunately, I scanned all my textbooks into my index along with his words and diagrams. My system isn¡¯t as good as normal memory in most situations, but for academic stuff like this it might be better.


    That part of the brain impacts language, attention, and symbol recognition, so yeah, I think my brain is specializing again, this time in reading. There are no massive headaches with this change though, for which I¡¯m tremendously grateful. I wonder what the cost has been for this improvement. Everything is a trade-off with the brain, neurons recruited into doing one job are no longer doing whatever they did before. At least there weren¡¯t massive headaches this time around, for which I¡¯m tremendously grateful. Or at least if there were I didn¡¯t bother to write about them in my logs.


    Oh well. Given how much I have to read every day just to fake normal humanity, it¡¯s an upgrade I¡¯ll take. Plus, I don¡¯t have any way to reverse the changes. I grab another book, Arthur C. Clarke this time. I end up chewing through a good chunk of the shelf with some Niven, Heinlein, Dick, and Bradbury before Cindy pops in to offer lunch.

 Thu 05/18 09:29:51 HST

    We step out of the air-conditioned hotel into the warm, humid air of the island. The press crew greets us and we do a few minutes of smiling in front of the cameras with some local politicians and activists. Sheryl and the PR team should be able to turn the footage into good publicity for us. We mostly stay quiet, just waving and smiling and sticking to the talking points that we¡¯re supposed to say. According to Sheryl, the narrative always comes out better when the scripted version is the only version. The hotel is a few dozen klicks from the old mine where we¡¯re getting the aluminum that we need, and the morning here is beautiful. It should be a pleasant flight over to it.


    To Evan, Andrea: Follow me.


    I suit up and they do likewise. The reporters, VIPs, and bystanders gawk at our transformation, especially at Andrea¡¯s flight rig. Evan and I are using the default black flight suits, which are impressive but not particularly flashy. Andrea¡¯s, on the other hand, is as beautiful a work of art as I would have expected from her. It¡¯s got intricate feathered patterns covering her from head to toe in a black, brown and white pattern. She looks more like a beautiful and graceful bird of prey than a human as we take off, and huge projected wings spread out from her arms as we gain a little altitude, completing the illusion.


    My sister has mastered the magic of shapeshifting and is now a hawk.


    I lead us out to the mine site. It¡¯s a blighted, ugly patch of brown and gray nestled in among the otherwise lush and green terrain. I set up a few dozen camera bots so I can upload pics and footage once we¡¯re back in the lab at the end of the trip. More ammunition for Sheryl to help her convince the world of how essential we are.


    To Evan, Andrea: Let¡¯s all grow as large as we can handle. That¡¯ll make the job here go faster and make it easier to move all the aluminum we need when we¡¯re done.


    Louise isn¡¯t around to nag me for pushing myself on controlling too many nanobots, which she claims is one of the issues causing my brain to deviate from standard humanity. What she doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt her any. I station myself on one end of the wasted ground, Evan takes the middle and Andrea lands on the end farthest from me.


    GROW


    I feel the mechanical parts of myself swelling up, doubling in size every few minutes. My senses expand. I feel every pebble, every grain of sand. I dig into the earth, extracting, making the elements I find there a part of me. I feel the air cool as I draw in the power I need to continue expanding. I almost lose myself in the sensation. I forgot how great it is to have my consciousness so enlarged. I haven¡¯t felt like this since that last day I needed to be this big, that day I destroyed my life and so many others. I shake that thought off as I guide a million fingers into cracks and crevices, pulling nourishing minerals as each finger becomes a hand with a thousand fingers of its own. The pain I once felt from seeing and feeling this much is gone. My mind is fully adapted for this.


    I turn on the overlay to see how Evan and Andrea are doing. They¡¯re both expanding, but not nearly as fast as I am. I know Evan doesn¡¯t like to enable the full senses the cloud provides, so he¡¯s probably just letting the default algorithm do it all. Andrea is expanding a little slower than he is, but of course, she¡¯s not simply pulling minerals out. Dust is swirling around her, reshaping the barren ground.


    I know my part for this, and I send out a large contingent of my bots to the nearby grasses and trees, gathering seeds wherever I can and bringing them back, carefully tucking them under the blighted soil as I pull out and gather toxins left from the mining operation. The heavy metals are usable in several of the available bot hull compounds and become a part of me. The rest of the garbage will need to be safely stored.


    I know my part for her landscaping design, though I had to get it through Louise when Andrea planned it out. I send out a large contingent of my bots to the nearby grasses and trees, gathering seeds wherever I can and bringing them back, carefully tucking them under the blighted soil as I pull out and gather up all the toxins left from the mining operation. The heavy metals are usable in several of the available bot hull compounds and become a part of me. For the rest, I start forming three massive hollow ceramic spheres from the clay I pull up from under the ground. Each one is a couple of meters across. I gather up all the arsenic, mercury, and other toxins from across the site and seal all of the filth up inside the spheres. I discharge enough heat from my bots¡¯ batteries to seal up the exterior of each. That should prevent any of the nasty stuff from doing any harm to the greenery or any tourists that come by for the next few thousand years or so.


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    To Andrea: All yours.


    She glances over at me and I motion to the massive orbs. She sees my progress and smiles, her first smile for me in a long time. Maybe there is hope for some kind of relationship with her again. She begins to dance, hands and fingers weaving through the air as her feet move to a tune that only she can hear. The ground smooths under them and the three containers roll into their places. Mounds of earth and clay form around the spheres, transforming them. I almost forget to continue growing my cloud as I see her graceful motions at work.


    She forms a children¡¯s slide from one of the spheres with stairs up one side and a wide, smooth, blue slide down the other. The second sphere becomes a pleasantly sloped hill with a pair of benches on the top. A foot path clears some of my seeds and paves itself with brown stone-like squares that rise from the soil. The last one remains a sphere, but up on a pedestal that grows beneath it. Lines of latitude and longitude inscribe themselves on its surface, and continents emerge. Green, blue, and white spread over it, painting oceans, land, and polar caps. I feel the motor form as solar panels attach themselves to the sides of the pedestal, and the globe starts slowly turning.


    She is so cool.


    I return my full attention to growing. Soon, I am everywhere. I am everything. And I¡¯m still not up to what I could handle if I really wanted to push myself. I send my million hands skyward. I pull moisture from the air one microscopic droplet at a time and condense it down. The air is thick and dark as my robotic selves descend with their droplets, giving the newly seeded ground a dewy drink. I spread back out when they are done, clearing the gray fog.


    Andrea nods in approval and then suits up in her flight gear to show she¡¯s ready to go.


    From Evan: I¡¯m good. When you guys are done let¡¯s go work on the boats.


    I glance over at my brother standing a few hundred meters away in the middle of what should become a nice grassy field once the seeds sprout. His cloud is as big as I¡¯ve ever seen him go, but it¡¯s still a lot smaller than Andrea¡¯s, who¡¯s put together about half of what I¡¯ve built. Guess that¡¯s the price he has to pay for having a fully functional brain. Off to one side sits a large pile of refined aluminum. Between that and what I have in my cloud, we should have plenty for what we¡¯ll need.


    I give Evan a nod and suit up for our flight to the dock. Andrea continues her work a few minutes longer until the former mining site is fully transformed into a beautiful park. Once the grass grows, this place will be magnificent. Finally, she turns back into a hawk to show she¡¯s ready to go and we all fly over to the dock. A large cardboard box of control boards that we had shipped here ahead of us is waiting for us at the small office. Evan retrieves it and carries it for us. We head out on the dock over the ocean. A small crowd with more reporters look on, but they don¡¯t get in our way while we work.


    BUILD(CATAMARAN)


    My bots reach out to the mass of aluminum we brought over and also into the water, extracting tiny plastic particles and fusing them into strong compounds that build up the hulls and motors of the cat. Evan sets down the box and pulls out one of the control boards. He steps on out to the unfinished ship and starts installing it in the panel in the bridge deck as it forms. Andrea spots the van with our food and other supplies pulling up near the dock. She waves away the pair of big guys that start unloading and floats the boxes onto the catamaran. The crowd cheers and she smiles and waves to them cheerfully.


    I get started on the next boat. Even this near to the shore there¡¯s enough trash plastic in the water for the non-metal portions of the hull. Even if there weren¡¯t, we could have started out onto the water and finished the fleet by gathering as we go. But I don¡¯t need to reach very far out before I feel my first abandoned fishing net¡ªa big one that provides a bounty of material.


    Yeah, we¡¯ll have everything we need to get started.

 Fri 05/19 06:14:10 HST

    It¡¯s so quiet out here on the water. Something about the smell of the salt spray makes my normal flow of worries and regrets seem far away. We¡¯re going over 70 knots, but the water seems smooth. I owe another thanks to the dev team; these catamarans are amazing. Here on the rear deck, we¡¯re sheltered from the whipping wind. It¡¯s still a few hours out to the first collector site, and the autopilot knows what to do with the rudders and motors. I stare off into the endless blue of the morning sky. I check my tablet again for work that I need to do, but the latest email that came in over the satellite internet link is still the report from Alan telling me that everything is handled and I should enjoy my time here.


    My cloud is back to a normal size again with most of the excess material deposited into the dozens of catamarans following ours. Evan put together some deck chairs for us and is still sleeping, eyes covered by sunglasses he picked up at the little shop near the dock. Andrea sits next to him in the same chair where I slept last night. She¡¯s already sporting a bikini despite the cool morning air. She¡¯s making gestures and staring at her hands, which means she¡¯s cooking up something cool that I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see later. I¡¯m trying hard not to look her way. It¡¯s a little awkward with her showing that much skin and being as beautiful as she is. I wonder if it¡¯s like this for people that knew their siblings before they were adults.


    I¡¯ve got better things to focus on anyway. I¡¯ve been tempted to try something and I think this trip is the right time for it. I put in a reminder for three days from now to read my daily brain dump, then I remove the regular daily reminder. I set up some timed blocks in the index entries relating to Father and Jeff, then make sure that I can¡¯t access anything in my standard logs that I don¡¯t absolutely need to see for solving the problem of plastic buildup in the Pacific. I¡¯m taking a vacation from myself. I¡¯ll wake up in the morning and only learn what I need to know for the mission at hand. I¡¯ll get a few days without the crushing guilt of killing Father and betraying Jeff. I know it¡¯s not fair that I can do this, and honestly I¡¯m not sure what will happen, but I need to try. If I keep going like this, I¡¯m going to end up giving my cloud a command to put a hundred holes through me.


    Oh, shit.


    I think I might be suicidal. I never admitted that to myself before, at least not that I wrote down.


    That¡¯s what I get for taking some time for introspection, I guess.


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    I send a pair of eyes up the bridge deck to check our progress. Another fifteen minutes to the first build site. The garbage patch isn¡¯t what I had thought it was before I started doing research on it. It¡¯s not like a giant dump floating on the water with big clumps of trash floating around and bumping into each other, at least not in most places. It¡¯s the millions of little chunks of plastic and other trash that span thousands of square kilometers. Many of the chunks are microplastics that are too small to see at all, but still big enough to wreak havoc on the ecosystem and threaten human food supplies through the fish that we eat.


    I review the mission plans. I should know them, because I wrote them, but my condition makes everything a new and shiny surprise for me every day. We¡¯ll be setting up a series of accumulators, each one with a large smart net that will catch up trash and contain it while letting marine life pass through. This is probably the most complex system we¡¯ve ever deployed in the field, almost as complex as the water filters for the Mekong trip we¡¯re planning. It has to handle the navigation and propulsion that let it fight the current, the production systems that let it turn the trash into a larger platform, and the collection systems that tell the difference between trash and everything else so it can part the net as needed to let sea life through. If it works right, the several dozen small platforms we build will each slowly grow into large floating stations that will be viable for research, fishing, or people that want to build really unique vacation homes.


    We¡¯re not likely to get the whole hundred thousand tons of trash that are flowing through the ocean¡¯s massive gyre, but if things go right we¡¯ll make a good dent in it. If we can make money on selling the platforms like I think we can, then we should be able to get the for-profit part of SynTech to adopt and continue the program. That¡¯s the ideal outcome. That would give us an ongoing cut of the proceeds and free us up for other projects.


    Ten more minutes to the high density garbage spot that we picked for the first platform. I climb up to the small bridge deck above the main cabin to get a better view with my human eyes. The bot vision is good, and highly functional, but it doesn¡¯t ever quite feel the same as looking with the eyeballs I was born with.


    Wait, what is that on the horizon? Is someone there already? I send a contingent of bots rushing out ahead the dozen kilometers to the site, feeling the long chain of the mesh network connecting me to the furthest ones out. Yeah, there¡¯s a boat already there. A big one.


    And something that feels familiar, but wrong. Something is broadcasting on the same frequencies that our nanobots use to talk to each other. No, not something, lots of somethings. Millions of somethings sending little blips of messages to each other using digital encodings that my cloud doesn¡¯t speak.


    That¡¯s nanobots out there, bot clouds running on control channels that I don¡¯t recognize. Who is using Father¡¯s tech out here, and why don¡¯t I know about it?

 Fri 05/19 10:04:43 HST

    ¡°Hey, you feel that?¡± I ask, climbing down from the bridge.


    ¡°Feel what?¡± Evan asks groggily, sitting up in his chair.


    ¡°Out that way,¡± I say, pointing through the main cabin toward the front of the ship. About ten klicks out. Something that feels like a bot cloud is talking.¡±


    Evan shakes off his sleep, coming to instant alertness with a speed that I can only envy. He gets a look of concentration that turns into a worried expression after a couple of minutes. Andrea¡¯s face looks serene, but my bots can feel that her heart rate is rising. She grabs the loose-fitting blouse that was resting on the back of her chair and throws it on over her bikini top, buttoning only the bottom couple of buttons.


    ¡°Yeah, that feels like bots. Like our bots. I¡¯d recognize those signal frequencies anywhere after spending a couple of months elbows-deep in them to build our telepathy system. But they¡¯re not using our standard beacons for their signaling. The messages are way too long, and the signaling changes are way too slow. But the hardware identifiers in the message headers are the same. It¡¯s like someone is using our tech, but with a dumber version of software running on it.¡±


    ¡°Want to go see who they are?¡± I ask.


    ¡°We probably should,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m curious now.¡± Andrea nods in agreement.


    We¡¯re pulling up alongside the other boat. It¡¯s significantly larger than ours with the word Esperan?a in large letters on the hull above its registration number. A quick look inside with my bots shows the interior of their ship has dozens of small cabins with stacked bunks, each filled with a person wearing what looks like a VR headset. Their hands wave around in front of them, covered in gloves that must be controllers of some kind given the slight electromagnetic fields that they¡¯re emanating.


    Outside their boat, I¡¯m getting a much clearer picture of what¡¯s going on. Swarms of nanobots near the boat are clustered around what looks like a large buoy. The construction they¡¯re working on seems similar to what we were going to build, at least in principle. It¡¯s tremendously less elegant though, if the early stages of its construction are any indication.


    Several camera crews swarm around the decks of the ship, some pointing at the construction, others pointing at what look like the people running this show. Some of them bear the logos from big international news outlets. Whatever we do here could be viewed worldwide, so I need to keep whatever comes out of my mouth as civil as possible.


    We¡¯re close enough that I can see a few figures standing prominently on the main deck with my biological eyes now: a dark-haired man in a light-colored suit and two women, one in a blue pantsuit and one in jeans and one wearing some kind of uniform.


    ¡°Does she look familiar to either of you?¡± Evan asks. ¡°I swear I¡¯ve seen her before. The one in blue there.¡±


    I shake my head, but my memory is junk and she¡¯s not popping in my facial recognition system. Andrea nods slowly, but projects a question mark in the air. I guess she can¡¯t place the lady¡¯s face either.


    ¡°Ahoy!¡± I call out as we approach,  feeling nautical as I say it. I use the bots as a megaphone, I¡¯m not sure they¡¯d hear me otherwise with the brisk wind. The woman in the uniform responds in kind. I can barely hear her, so I form a discrete mic near them.


    ¡°Permission to come aboard?¡± I shout.


    Uniform looks at pantsuit, who returns a subtle nod.


    ¡°Granted,¡± Uniform shouts back.


    The camera crew that had been trained on them retreats at a hand motion from the pantsuited woman. Evan takes the controls and drives us right near the side of their boat, which towers over ours. I form a set of stairs from our deck to theirs and we walk up. I figured the flight suits would be a little pretentious for such a short distance, and with the other camera crew still out on their deck, I wasn¡¯t sure about the optics of us just floating up.


    The blonde woman in the pantsuit steps forward while the others take a few steps back. She¡¯s probably in her early fifties, and from her mass and resting heart rate she seems to be in very good shape, probably a distance runner. She extends a hand to shake as we step down onto the deck from over the railing. I grasp it firmly and Evan and Andrea shake hands with her as well.


    ¡°Hello! You must be Tom¡¯s kids! I¡¯m so sorry to hear about your father.¡± she says with a familiarity that I don¡¯t like.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m Noah,¡± I reply, trying to keep my discomfort off of my face. ¡°This is Evan and Andrea. I¡¯m afraid we don¡¯t know who you are.¡±


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    From Evan: Actually, I just recognized her. That¡¯s Auntie Dorothy. She used to work for Father years ago.


    ¡°Dorothy James,¡± she says in a tone that implies we should know the name. I quickly check my index. Never heard of her. Whatever her relationship was with Father, he didn¡¯t keep any notes that referred to her.


    ¡°Hello, Dorothy,¡± Evan says warily. His normal natural warmth is nowhere to be found. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I was afraid you might not remember me, but I¡¯m sure your father told you all about me. It must be wonderful for you to get to see me again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I remember you,¡± Evan says. ¡°You ran his research division at SynTech, right?¡±


    To Evan: Auntie?Why haven¡¯t I heard of her?


    ¡°Yes, yes! What a delightful boy you are, Evan,¡± she exclaims, smiling with very white teeth. ¡°The last time I saw you, you were just a little thing. You¡¯ve grown so big and strong! And Andrea, you were such a cute little chatterbox! Look at what a lovely young lady you¡¯ve turned into. Now Noah, I don¡¯t believe you were there back then, were you? You were the one that got away, as I recall.¡±


    From Evan: She used to work for Father at SynTech. She was close enough with him that she came to the campus a couple of times. That almost never happened. She handed out candy and told us to call her Auntie. She left the company a few years later. It was a big deal. They accused her of corporate espionage. Looks like they were right.


    ¡°Yes, that was me,¡± I reply out loud to her, keeping my tone civil. ¡°I rejoined the family at my father¡¯s invitation a couple of years ago. Now that we''re properly introduced, I have to say that we weren¡¯t expecting to run into anyone out here, much less an old friend of the family.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, indeed.¡± Dorothy brushes a wind-blown wisp of hair back into place. ¡°Quite a coincidence, isn¡¯t it. But I guess those of us with expertise in our domain must certainly be drawn to these same problems.¡± Her blood pressure bumps up as she answers. Her heart rate too. She¡¯s lying. She knew we were coming here today. There¡¯s no way she could have put together something on this scale with just the short notice that the media coverage would have given her. I¡¯ve got a leak that I need to patch when I get back home.


    ¡°I see that you¡¯ve got your own nanotechnology operation going on. Can I assume you¡¯re putting together an accumulator here to gather the plastics? Cleaning up the garbage patch?¡±


    She gives me a condescending smile. ¡°And I can see you take after your father, Noah. Bright as the rest of them. Yes, we¡¯re solving the world¡¯s problems, just as you have been. We couldn¡¯t see your family working so hard in Africa without feeling like we needed to do our part. Would you care to join us for lunch?¡±


    Deception and something stronger are clear from her vitals despite the smiling poker face she¡¯s wearing. Anger? I can¡¯t tell. I¡¯d need a better baseline with her. Whatever her motives are, they¡¯re not the altruism she¡¯s claiming.


    From Evan: I¡¯d rather not. I¡¯m getting all sorts of creepy vibes from these guys.


    ¡°No thanks,¡± I say, forcing what I hope looks like a friendly smile. Got to keep up appearances for all those cameras. ¡°We were planning to get some work done here but I can see you have everything well in hand. We¡¯ve got to be off soon if we¡¯re going to get somewhere that needs our attention today. We¡¯ll get out of your way and let you continue. Glad we¡¯re all on the same side cleaning up the planet here. It was nice meeting you.¡± I hope I put enough ice in my voice. I don¡¯t want her to misunderstand and think I¡¯m being sincere.


    ¡°Yes, it was so nice to meet you too, Noah,¡± she says, her face and voice still a sharp mismatch from the tension her body is exhibiting. ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming years. Not many players in this game of ours.¡±


    The guy in the suit seems amused by the exchange and steps forward like he¡¯s about to say something, but then stops as Dorothy catches his arm. I wonder who he is. Someone rich judging by the quality of his suit. I capture pictures of everyone on their boat as I form the stairs back down to the catamaran. Evan heads straight onto the bridge deck and pulls the cat away from the big boat. Once we¡¯re far enough out for the automatic navigation to run, he sets our course up to the next site.


    I¡¯m pretty sure based on what Evan told me that Dorothy and her crew stole our nanotech rather than designing their own from scratch, but I need to get a sample to be sure. I reach out around us and choose one of the many small batches of their nanobots in the water away from the main construction area. Looks like they¡¯re returning from collecting some plastic, probably following the same strategy we¡¯ll be using of building their accumulator as much from the locally available materials as possible. I need something that will let me grab them and cut them off from their controllers. A faraday cage should do it. Enclosing them in a conductive metal mesh that should block any kind of signal going to or from them.


    I grab a chunk of aluminum from the hull of the catamaran nearest to them and quickly build a small mesh cage around the group of bots. Hopefully, their operator will just assume the bots got pulled far enough underwater by an errant wave that the signal got blocked. I can¡¯t imagine those VR headsets could give them detailed enough feedback that they¡¯d be able to see what I was doing. I give the package a quick sensor sweep to make sure it¡¯s not emitting any signals that would give it away. It¡¯s clean. My cloud encases the cage in plastic so the bots don¡¯t flush out with the water then drag the whole bundle near the surface in the same direction our cat is moving.


    Dorothy stands near the railing of her ship, watching us as we go. Several of the cameras point our way. I give them a friendly wave goodbye as I maneuver my golf ball sized prize around the catamaran to the side where the cameras can¡¯t see and up onto the deck. Hopefully without any of them noticing. Maybe they¡¯ll think we¡¯re stupid just because we¡¯re young.


    I open up a panel in my interface console and make sure I have the same number of bots in my cloud now as I did when we first spotted these guys.


    To Andrea, Evan: Check your clouds. I don¡¯t want to leave anything behind for her to play with. She¡¯s stolen enough from us.

 Fri 05/19 11:46:09 HST

    Well out of sight from the Esperan?a now, I close my eyes and spend a few minutes doing a full-spectrum scan for anything transmitting. With those clouds of their nanobots floating around, it would have been easy for them to sneak something onto any of the boats in our little fleet. This isn¡¯t a full solution, but it should get us some awareness about whether her crew planted something obvious.


    An hour later, I find something. A device the size of a postage stamp is attached to the side of one of the cats. It¡¯s kicking out a weak signal on a little-used low frequency band that¡¯s usually reserved for hobbyists.


    I send in my cloud to take a look. It¡¯s a flat plastic package with what looks like a programmable integrated circuit inside. It could be anything, but it¡¯s definitely sending info back to Dorothy. I¡¯ll need to have the team back at SynTech take a look, this kind of reverse engineering is way beyond me.


    What I can do is stop it from tattling on us right now. I build another faraday cage around it, tightly meshing aluminum wires that should block any signal. Dorothy will know that her spy was caught, but I don¡¯t care. Better than having our location and info reported back to her. I check all of our boats again as my fleshy self sits down in the shaded part of the deck. Nothing this time. It could have been the only one, or there could be more that aren¡¯t transmitting right now.


    I build a larger faraday cage on the deck, this one big enough for me to fit inside. I pull in all of my cloud from the surrounding area and put most of them in sleep mode, forming thick piles of gray dust around me. It feels a little like turning off my legs, if I had an extra dozen legs that I could turn off. I enter the cage with a few thousand bots and my new golf ball and close it off with me inside. My bots peel off the outer casing and tear away the tiny wire cage, reforming the plastic into a dish with a small puddle of ocean water containing the tiny captives. They¡¯re inactive. I form a magnifying eye to take a close up look.


    I see the familiar soccer ball sphere with configurable ports. They look like they¡¯re the same hardware as my SynTech bots. Might not be identical, but they¡¯re close enough that I can¡¯t tell the difference just by looking. I cycle through the control channel frequencies to see if they¡¯ll respond to version queries. If they¡¯re using our software and still active, that interface would be the only one not encrypted. No response. Same thing I¡¯d expect from ours if they were abruptly disconnected from the mesh network without being put to sleep, probably using the same kind of automatic lobotomy code we use.


    I rebuild the electromagnetically shielded golf ball. I slip it into my satchel, then tear down the big cage and reactivate all the bots on the deck.


    Better. I¡¯m whole again.


    Some of my many eyes glance at the displays in the bridge deck. All steady on our course to the next build site, plenty of time before we get there. I feel the light hum of the electric motors and the gentle rock of the cat as it glides over the water.


    I head into the catamaran¡¯s main cabin. The build routine for these boats doesn¡¯t do much beyond what¡¯s absolutely necessary to get a working ship. I¡¯ll need to talk to the dev team about that. For the Mekong River trip, we¡¯ll want more comforts baked in. Andrea¡¯s been at work here today though, since she and Evan are sitting on chairs that didn¡¯t exist this morning at a table that wasn¡¯t here when we set off. She even made a chair for me. That¡¯s a promising sign. I take a seat in it.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Both he and Andrea look as angry as I¡¯ve ever seen them. I haven¡¯t followed their discussions while I was searching the fleet, but they¡¯ve obviously jumped ahead to the same conclusions I¡¯ve found.


    ¡°What did you find out?¡± Evan demands.


    ¡°It¡¯s exactly what you think. Dorothy totally pirated Father¡¯s tech. They took the bots. What they¡¯ve got are straight up clones of ours.¡±


    Evan lets out a string of obscenities, some of which I didn¡¯t think he knew. Andrea does some trick with her bots to make the skin of her face bright red and her hair explode into illusionary flames.


    I¡¯m a little surprised at their reactions. It¡¯s the kind of response I¡¯d expect from Chad. Both Evan and Andrea are usually more even-keel. But this is someone stealing the family¡¯s most prized possession, so I relate.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more. But there¡¯s a bright spot. Did either of you take a look inside of their ship while we were there?¡±


    They both shake their heads.


    ¡°They had sixty people jacked into VR headsets running their cloud. They didn¡¯t manage to steal the implant tech. Their controls must suck compared to ours. For what they were getting done, any one of us could have done it by ourselves without breaking a sweat. At least we¡¯ve got that going for us.¡±


    Evan doesn¡¯t look at all calmed by this, but Andrea lets her face and hair go back to normal.


    ¡°I mean, we knew the tech wouldn¡¯t stay in the family forever. The patents expire in a couple of years anyway,¡± I say. ¡°But I want to strangle her as much as you do.¡±


    Neither of them responds, and we sit in silence for a long couple of minutes.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± I continue, ¡°that Dorothy lady was super shady. I was watching her vitals while we talked to her. She had deception all over everything she said. I already found some kind of bug or data collector that they planted on us that was transmitting back to them. I still need to check for more to find any that I couldn¡¯t find by radio waves.¡±


    Andrea forms a glowing question mark in the air and looks my way.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re after, Andrea. Maybe just keeping tabs on us, maybe more corporate spying, maybe something else.¡±


    ¡°Well, unless we want to go back and sink them, I guess there¡¯s nothing we can do about it right now,¡± Evan grumbles, starting to regain his composure. ¡°Do we want to go sink them? Maybe?¡±


    Andrea snorts out a bitter laugh and shakes her head. I do the same, but without the snort.


    ¡°Too many innocent journalists on board,¡± I say. ¡°Otherwise I might seriously consider it.¡±


    ¡°Well then. Off to the next build, I guess.¡± He gets up from the table. ¡°We¡¯ve got a while until we hit site number two. Plenty of time to think about it. I guess we¡¯re ahead of schedule now if we want to just continue without doing that first build.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t think of a better plan. I¡¯m going to go check the whole fleet as we go. I wish I could just slag them all and rebuild them, but then we¡¯d have to stop while we did it and I want to get as far from Dorothy as we can.¡±


    ¡°You want a hand with searching?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I got it.¡± I get to my feet. He¡¯d need to turn his senses all the way on to be useful and I know how much he hates doing that. ¡°You two grab the sat phone and call Louise. Tell her everything and have her tell Mr. Smith. We¡¯ll want to see what we can do about this from the legal side. And we need to find out who¡¯s feeding them our operational info. This trip wasn¡¯t exactly secret, but to know exactly where we would be and have an operation of that size already there when we arrived? She¡¯s still got people on the inside.¡±


    Evan balls his fists and nods. Andrea scowls and makes a tiny stick figure wearing a blue pantsuit explode in front of her.


    ¡°Yeah. I feel the same. See you in a few hours.¡±


    I head out to the shaded area of the deck and sit down cross-legged with my back against the cabin wall. I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensations of my cloud scrubbing  over every tiny surface of each of the cats in our fleet. It¡¯ll take a while to scour every micrometer of the hulls of all the cats to make sure she didn¡¯t plant anything else on us.

 Fri 05/19 17:04:17 HST

    There we go. On the last cat of the fleet, I find a third non-transmitting stamp-sized device hidden. That¡¯s four total now. I have to admit, they did a decent job sneaking these things on. This one was fused to the hull right at the water level. I¡¯m betting they lost a fair number of bots to signal loss from submersion to get it there. I¡¯m guessing that the three that weren¡¯t transmitting were backups that would have kicked on after a while to make sure that Dorothy had our fleet location at all times and collect who knows what other info. Maybe they were planning to pirate our stations and keep them for their own, or maybe they thought they could just claim that they had built them since with their handy camera crews they¡¯re probably kicking out regular press releases. If they declared them all theirs first, we¡¯d have a tough time regaining the PR high ground.


    Am I getting paranoid?


    I¡¯ll get with Evan and Andrea tonight and figure out a new travel path. They¡¯ll check me if I¡¯m pushing the boundaries of crazy. But it feels like a reasonable suspicion. If Dorothy and company knew where the first one was going to be built, there¡¯s no reason to think they don¡¯t have inside info on all the rest. There are plenty of good alternative build locations, so I¡¯m thinking we should scrap all the ones we had planned in favor of others where we¡¯re less likely to risk interference or theft.


    I put the last tattletale stamp into the shielded package with the others. The SynTech kids can figure out what all those things actually do later. I open my eyes. The sun is low on the horizon. I¡¯m hungry. I forgot to eat again today. Still sitting on the deck, I reach into the food box in the cabin. I find a can of soup and warm it by discharging some battery from the bots lifting it to me. It¡¯s just about right by the time it reaches my hands. I pull the tab, open the top, and have my bots reforge the lid into a spoon.


    Evan follows the can out onto the deck, and Andrea follows not far behind him.


    ¡°All done with the sweep?¡± he asks.


    My mouth is full and I¡¯m ravenous, so I resort to telepathy so I can talk and eat at the same time.


    To Evan, Andrea: Yeah, done. I found some more. I wish I could figure out what these things were for. I think they¡¯re more than just trackers. Anyway, I think we¡¯re clean now. Are we almost there?


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re in the area,¡± Evan answers. ¡°We can probably start whenever.¡±


    ¡°Come on then, let¡¯s get to work,¡± I say once I drink down the last of the soup. ¡°I¡¯m a little worried that they know where we¡¯re building this one. Given Dorothy¡¯s known inclination toward corporate piracy, I¡¯d like to make sure that this is very distinctly a Butler Institute build so she can¡¯t try to take credit for it. Andrea, do you think you can make it stand out as ours enough so there¡¯s no question about who built it?¡±


    She gives me a nonchalant nod with a look that tells me she was going to do that anyway. It¡¯ll have to be enough, I don¡¯t want to put off starting the project for another day just to head off piracy that I don¡¯t know is really coming.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I reach out around us. Lots of junk here, mostly plastic. I start harvesting, forming chains and scoops, careful not to let my bots get separated and disconnected under the water. It doesn¡¯t take much distance in salt water to block the electromagnetic connection that keeps the parts of my cloud coordinated. I don¡¯t want any of them to lose signal and add them to the junk we¡¯re trying to clean up. I pull two of the spare cats up near us for materials and start disassembling them. I convert about one of them straight into bots, luxuriating in the additional senses as my cloud grows. I slag the other into a neat stack of metal ingots on the deck next to me for use in building the station.


    As I finish that, Evan gets started on the collector, unboxing the control hardware and doing the careful work of building the complex parts that attach to the smarts of the thing. Andrea and I work on the simpler but bigger task of building the main body. I love losing myself in the work. Nothing exists but the growing platform and the materials I pull from the water to build it. A blissful hour goes by before it¡¯s done.


    Andrea finishes the job with etchings on the protruding hub in the center of the station¡¯s surface, the part that houses the working guts of the thing and won¡¯t be changed as the platform grows and expands. It¡¯s very much in her distinct artistic style, and it has Created by the Butler Institute in big unmistakable letters. The rest of the etching is a swirling pattern that seems to trick the eye like the M. C. Escher print that Mom had hanging in her bedroom. I¡¯d forgotten about that until now. I file the memory in my index. The thought of Mom threatens to pull away my focus and take me back to the dark place where I normally live.


    DOPE_ME


    Better. Now for the worst part.


    MAINTAIN(98%)


    I feel a couple hundred trillion pinpricks, a couple hundred trillion fingers cut off as ninety-eight percent of my sensory input disconnects itself from me and reprograms itself to only do a single job for the rest of its existence. I add a directive to preserve the artwork, and with it our claim to have built this thing. They should be enough that this platform can continue operating for the next century or so without any human intervention, growing by harvesting whatever garbage the current brings by. I¡¯ve still got several billion bots left, and I know I¡¯ll be able to build new ones when we cannibalize the next set of catamarans, but the loss leaves me feeling empty despite the lingering boost from my dopamine shot. It¡¯s worth it though. These platforms will save countless marine animals¡¯ lives, solve the plague of microplastics destroying ocean ecosystems, and reverse the accumulation of junk that¡¯s slowly making the oceans unusable for us humans too.


    The last of the day¡¯s sun reflects off the platform and it is beautiful. I snap images from a hundred angles with my bots, including a whole bunch with various combinations of the three of us smiling and waving and making it obvious that we built the thing. I stash the pics away for the PR team to use in our post-trip publicity blitz. Once those make it to Sheryl, she can push them out as soon as she can and make sure Dorothy can¡¯t swipe credit. I look out over the horizon and don¡¯t see any sign of the Esperan?a. At the rate they were going, they¡¯re probably still slowly grinding away at their first build now. I really might be getting paranoid.


    ¡°Ten hours to the next site,¡± Evan calls out from the bridge deck. ¡°Course is set and we¡¯re good to go.¡±

 Sat 05/20 06:04:32 HST

    I wake up to a sunrise lighting up a band of gold along the edge of a beautiful blue sky. I feel a moment of confusion and wonder where I am, then look over at the deck chair next to me where Evan is still sleeping. That¡¯s right, we¡¯re out at sea. It¡¯s for some project, I think. A task pops up reminding me to look at my to-do list for the day. Looks like we¡¯ll be building three junk collectors. Yeah, remembering now, the garbage patch cleanup project. I pop up to the bridge deck and check on where we are. The navigation system shows that we¡¯re still another half hour to the build site, so there¡¯s plenty of time to grab something to eat.


    Down in the cabin, Andrea is just emerging from the bedroom. I hope my footsteps didn¡¯t wake her. I hit the head and brush my teeth. Andrea is pulling juice from our makeshift icebox. It¡¯s just a cooler with some bots in it working full time at sucking up ambient heat. Every once in a while they pop out and charge other bots until their battery is low again. The pastries that someone packed for us are good, if a little stale today. They probably won¡¯t be worth eating tomorrow, so I have two. We eat in silence until Evan stumbles in.


    ¡°Morning,¡± he rumbles, grabbing a box of the orange juice.


    ¡°Morning,¡± I say with a smile. I feel great today, not sure why.


    Evan gets out the satellite phone and gives Louise a call. Louise, I remember her now. She¡¯s my sister. She talked to the legal team and they said they¡¯ll look into something. I¡¯m not sure what. Whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t have been too important. I didn¡¯t even make a task to remember it. I¡¯m having a little trouble following the discussion, but that¡¯s probably normal. Otherwise, everything is going great back at home.


    Once we¡¯re done with the call, Andrea takes me and Evan each by the hand and pulls us out onto the main deck. She forms some bouncing plastic balls of various sizes, probably made from some detritus that we passed. She starts them jumping in a staccato rhythm, bouncing against the deck. Each one hits at a slightly different pitch and soon she¡¯s established a nice beat. A tuneless melody comes from somewhere and she beckons for Evan and I to join her in some stretches. We comply, and soon she has us doing her full morning exercise routine with her as the sun continues to rise and the bright blue ocean gets even more beautiful. We¡¯re nowhere near as flexible as she is, and after the first five minutes my muscles are burning. Ten minutes later, I¡¯m ready to collapse. Evan doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s doing much better.


    Fortunately, a ding from the bridge deck tells us it¡¯s time to get started on our first build. I¡¯m soaking in sweat, but I¡¯ll have to shower later. I take time to chug down the drink that Andrea offers me and Evan before I dig out the control panel from one of the boxes and get started on the functional core of the new platform. My index pulls up schematics as I need them and it¡¯s not hard to follow the instructions. Evan and Andrea pull up a couple of the boats following ours and start disassembling them for materials, which I eagerly grab up to grow both the platform and my cloud. Step-by-step instructions continue to pop up in my console as I work, making the tasks simple. I wonder if I wrote these or if someone else wrote them for me. They seem familiar, but I honestly couldn¡¯t say.


    I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s the invigorating workout, the beautiful weather, the good company, or knowing the project is saving the world, but I just feel fantastic today. I smile all the way through the first platform build. I don¡¯t even mind when I have to disconnect most of my cloud to set up bots to maintain the thing. I can always make more.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you so happy today?¡± Evan asks as he comes down from setting up the course to our next site on the bridge.


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    ¡°Not sure man, just loving life,¡± I answer as I pull my deck chair over into the shade.


    He pulls the other one near mine but keeps it in the sun. Andrea disappears inside the cabin.


    ¡°So, are you ready to hear about my date with Valerie yet?¡± he asks with a grin. ¡°I¡¯ve been sitting on this for days now and I¡¯m tired of waiting for you to ask.¡±


    ¡°Oh! I totally forgot about that!¡± I sit up and turn towards him. ¡°Yes, tell me all about it, please! Sorry I spaced it.¡±


    ¡°I understand, brother. If it was anyone else, I¡¯d be all kinds of offended, but with you I know it¡¯s not something you can control. Anyway, we took one of the nicer cars from Father¡¯s collection up to Vegas. Have you seen his car collection down in the garage under the residence? I¡¯m not a car guy, but he had some great models down there.¡±


    I seem to remember that I had looked there at some point, but I¡¯d have to dig through my log to check and I¡¯m just enjoying the story. Something about the mention of Father makes me sad, but I¡¯m not sure why. I¡¯ll have to look later. Evan goes on about the concert they went to, the fancy dinner at a rotating restaurant that looked out over the city, how they held hands as they walked along the strip. He¡¯s so happy, and I¡¯m so happy for him.


    ¡°So on the way back, I put on some music. We were talking, it was romantic, and she says she spotted a falling star. I didn¡¯t see anything, but she told me to pull over so we could see if any more, like a meteor shower or something. So I pulled over, and we got out and walked off the road a little ways. You know, so there wouldn¡¯t be as much light and we could see better. But after a minute, we weren¡¯t looking up anymore. I leaned in, then she leaned in, then we kissed.¡± His smile almost splits his face in half. ¡°And then we kissed some more. I think she might have given me a hickey. She¡¯s so awesome, Noah!¡±


    ¡°Good for you man! So you really like this girl then? What was her name again? Valkyrie? Valentine?¡±


    I¡¯m messing with him, and he gets it. He laughs his deep, rumbling laugh..


    ¡°So yeah, we¡¯re official now. Girlfriend and boyfriend and all that. Can we bring her along when we do the Asia trip? She already speaks Vietnamese.¡±


    We¡¯re taking a trip to Asia? Cool.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± I answer. ¡°Although we might want to poll the other sibs coming along to make sure everyone is OK with it. Have you talked to any of the others about it yet?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I checked with Marc, Louise and Andrea already. You know, cause they all asked how the date went. They¡¯re good with bringing her if no one else objects. Louise said it would be a great idea to have someone with some medical training along, just in case. I just need to get Chad on board now. Andrea was cracking some funny jokes about how much first-aid I¡¯ll need from our new on-board nurse, you should have her show you.¡±


    As if on cue, Andrea pops out from the cabin. She¡¯d been heading this way anyway, and just managed to time it right. She waves her hands and a little holographic Evan starts getting a series of more and more embarrassing injuries starting with a stubbed toe and ending with a snake bite on his backside, each of which a stick-figure nurse tends to with an increasingly sad look on her face. It¡¯s hilarious and we¡¯re all roaring with laughter by the time she¡¯s done.


    A timer ding comes from the bridge deck. Ten minutes to the next build site. We just have time for a quick lunch before it¡¯s time to work. We each pick out cans of food and warm them with our bots. The canned spaghetti reminds me of when I was really little, back before Mom learned how to cook well. I can¡¯t remember her very well. I start taking a look at my index entry for her, but before I get more than a couple of lines in I get a sudden overwhelming wave of sadness that stops me for a moment. Then Evan starts cracking more jokes about medical services he¡¯ll need on our Asia trip and I let it go. There¡¯s plenty of time later to catch up on what I can¡¯t remember about myself.


    Time to build. Andrea handles putting together the core this time, so Evan and I get the easy bulk work. What a great day, even with the growing soreness from the morning¡¯s workout. I just feel so good. Maybe I should live on a boat and do this all the time.

 Sun 05/21 05:58:52 HST

    A warm orange fills the sky off in the distance, but I don¡¯t get up yet. Moving hurts so much. What happened to me yesterday?  I take a moment to read yesterday¡¯s log. That¡¯s right. Andrea tried to kill me and Evan with a combination of yoga and aerobics.


    No, wait. I remember now. It wasn''t an attempted murder. She was smiling, I was smiling, Evan was smiling. We did that for fun. I try to move my arms, but they don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea. What was I thinking?


    I turn and sit up on the deck chair, my abs screaming in protest. I try again to lift my arms and this time they actually move. I reach up to try to work out some of the stiffness and feel Andrea grabbing my wrists. I hadn¡¯t realized she was there. She pulls on my arms, stretching them. It hurts, but it feels sooooo good.


    She comes around my deck chair bed and grabs an ankle, first stretching one leg, then the other.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say as I start to regain mobility.


    She smiles and waves me over as the music starts. Oh. I guess we¡¯re doing it again today. Evan stirs and Andrea pauses a moment to give him the same stretching treatment as he groans. In a few minutes, he and I are back in Andrea¡¯s exercise class. A few minutes later, the pain fades and it starts to feel less uncomfortable, then invigorating, then great. Sweat drips down into my eyes as we wrap up.


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    I munch on a granola bar and a small pack of sliced peaches while I wait my turn for the shower. I form eyes on the bridge deck to check when we¡¯ll arrive at the next stop. There¡¯s plenty of time. Once I get the sweat rinsed off and clean clothes on, Evan gives Louise a call. She says there¡¯s no news from legal, and the new implantees are all doing great.


    We¡¯re nearly there. Evan starts putting together the controller while I cannibalize a couple of cats. Andrea and I build the platform. The sun is high in the sky by the time we finish. I¡¯m hungry enough that lunch from a can tastes great.


    Evan settles into his deck chair for an afternoon nap while we motor on to the next site. Andrea works on some modifications to the boat, adding furniture and decorations to the cabin and the decks. I lean against the railing and gaze off into the endless blue. It¡¯s so peaceful out here on the water. I love it. After a while, I double-check my to-do list. Yeah, I don¡¯t have anything I need to take care of. The only entries are the build jobs and instructions to ¡°Have a great day.¡±


    Maybe I¡¯ll follow Evan¡¯s example and take a nap. Seems like a pleasant way to spend a couple of hours on a great day. From the sound of his contented snoring, I¡¯d say he¡¯s having a great one.

 Mon 05/22 05:59:17 HST

    I wake up sore to the orange light of dawn off on one side of the sky. Did I work out or something? That doesn¡¯t sound like something I would do, but I check yesterday¡¯s log and yeah, it looks like I did. Exercise with Andrea. But I think I¡¯m doing better today than how I recorded feeling yesterday, so I guess that¡¯s progress. I can move on my own at least. An alert goes off in my console with my daily to-do list. First up, some reading.


    Oh, shit.


    What kind of monster am I?


    DOPE_ME


    It¡¯s not enough. Not nearly.


    DOPE_ME


    DOPE_ME


    I don¡¯t understand how I¡¯ve lived with myself over the last year. What kind of total bastard can do what I¡¯ve done and keep on breathing? I lean back in the chair and contemplate my worthlessness.


    Eventually, Andrea comes out and leads another workout session. It¡¯s the same routine from yesterday, but instead of feeling invigorated, I¡¯m just tired by the end. I know she¡¯s holding way back from her normal routine, but I¡¯m not anywhere near where she is physically.


    Another shower.


    Another bland packaged breakfast.


    Another check-in with home, they¡¯re fine. They don¡¯t need me.


    Another build.


    Another canned lunch.


    Another several hours to the next site.


    Evan takes another nap. I need something to do. I can¡¯t take the silence. Maybe I can see if I can patch things up with Andrea. She seems to be at least tolerating me lately.


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    To Andrea: Hey, can we talk?


    Lighted arrows appear along the walls, leading me from the deck to the cabin, blinking and beckoning. Andrea is sitting cross-legged on the floor of the bedroom, inscribing an intricate pattern of different shades of blue on the wall in front of her. I think it¡¯s going to be a stormy sea or something when it¡¯s done, but it¡¯s too early for me to be able to tell.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    She looks at me expectantly.


    ¡°Can we talk about Jeff?¡±


    The slight smile on her face disappears. She turns her eyes back to the wall. The arrows that had beckoned me into the room reverse themselves.


    ¡°For real, Andrea,¡± I say, sitting on the floor facing her just next to where the art installation is building itself. ¡°I don¡¯t want to keep going like this. I¡¯m sorry. I know it was a shitty thing to do. And I¡¯m sorry I lied to you about it. However much you hate me for it, I promise that I hate myself much more. But there was no other way.¡±


    A stop sign appears in the air between us, glowing an angry red. The arrows blink more urgently as she pointedly ignores me.


    ¡°I spent every waking hour trying to figure out an alternative that would work,¡± I plead. ¡°Father was too smart, he planned too well, had too many contingencies. There was nothing else he loved enough besides one of us that could have given us a chance.¡±


    Her bots start putting a light pressure on me, physically pushing me towards the door.


    ¡°Andrea, I know you don¡¯t want to talk about this. But we need to. Like it or not, we¡¯re both part of the Butler Institute. We have powers and obligations that are going to keep us working together for the rest of our lives. We¡¯ve got to get past this. If you can¡¯t forgive me, I understand. I can¡¯t forgive myself either.¡± I hang my head, the shame of what I did to my brother heavy like a weight pulling me down. ¡°But I just want you to understand. I didn¡¯t want to do it. I didn¡¯t have anything against Jeff. Honestly, I think I was his only friend. But it needed to be done and I couldn¡¯t figure out any other way.¡±


    It¡¯s weird how she can make silence say so many things. The pressure pushing me out of the room increases. I could push back, but why bother? It wouldn¡¯t help. She won¡¯t ever forgive me. Won¡¯t ever let it go. The illusion of getting along from the last couple of days was only that. I let her bots push me out of the room and slam the door in my face.


    The worst of it is that she¡¯s right. I don¡¯t deserve better than this.


    I head back to the deck, Evan is still sleeping. How can he sleep so much and so easily? I look at the navigation system. We¡¯ve still got a couple of hours to the next site. I spend them wallowing in self-hate.

 Mon 05/22 11:51:06 HST

    It¡¯s almost midnight when we finish our third build for the day. Andrea heads into the cabin. and turns out the lights. The night is clear again, and there¡¯s no reason to go inside, so it¡¯s another night of sleeping on the deck for Evan and me. I take a seat on my deck chair next to my brother and start to settle in.


    ¡°So what¡¯s going on with you, man?¡± Evan asks from the darkness next to me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± I try to brush him off. I know full well what he means, but I really don¡¯t feel like talking.


    ¡°You¡¯re Mr. Sunshine for a couple of days and now you¡¯re the world''s biggest wet blanket again. What happened? I know it wasn¡¯t just the joy of hearing about my date.¡±


    I give him a smile, not bothering to hide the sadness behind it.


    ¡°I let myself forget for a couple of days, Evan. I took out my reminder to read what we did. What I did with Father and Jeff and all of it. And then I caught back up with it this morning and remembered what a piece of shit I am.¡±


    He sits up and looks at me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that, man,¡± he tells me. ¡°You¡¯re as good as any of us, and better than most.¡±


    He¡¯s wrong, of course, but there¡¯s no point arguing with him. I can¡¯t do this anymore. I can¡¯t go on like this. I get up and walk to the railing at the back of the deck.


    ¡°Brother, you did what you had to do,¡± Evan says, coming to stand beside me. ¡°We did what we had to do. We took down a monster. He killed your mom. He murdered who knows how many people. He experimented on us!¡±


    All sort of true, but none of it makes me feel justified. I look down at the dark waves.


    ¡°He broke Andrea,¡± Evan continues. ¡°Did you know she used to sing?¡± The anger in his dark face is clear even in the faint light from the sliver of moon in the sky. I shake my head.


    ¡°Like, really sing. Could have been a star kind of singing. Then he dragged her off to his lab to turn her into what he wanted her to be, and a few weeks later we never heard her voice again.¡±


    ¡°Did she say no to the procedure?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Well, no,¡± he admits. ¡°But there are plenty of child molesters that take advantage of consenting teens. Doesn¡¯t make it right.¡±


    ¡°Like you and Valerie?¡± I ask. I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m arguing with him. He¡¯s right about Father. He was awful, but that doesn¡¯t make me feel any less dead inside.


    ¡°That¡¯s different,¡± he protests. ¡°I¡¯m the one going after her. Plus I¡¯m an adult now. And we haven¡¯t done anything yet, nothing sexual anyway, and we won¡¯t any time soon.¡±


    I shrug noncommittally.


    ¡°Which reminds me,¡± Evan goes on. ¡°Valerie told me more of what a dirty old man Father was. Do you know what she had to sign before she could work on the campus?¡± He doesn¡¯t bother waiting for a response. ¡°He could have done whatever he wanted to do to her any time he wanted.¡±


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    I lean out over the railing and look out at the water again. It doesn¡¯t matter. Nothing he says is going to make any difference. I know what I did.


    I feel Evan¡¯s pulse and breathing quicken. My floating eyes see his pupils constrict.


    ¡°She had to do a video affidavit consenting to everything. He had an impregnation appointment cancel on him once, so he came down to the infirmary for a booty call. Spent twenty minutes cornering her and one of the other nurses while he waited for his viagra to kick in. He ended up taking the other one, but she thought she was going to have to service him. It was like that for almost every woman on the staff. They even made her register as a sex worker before she could start.¡±


    I check my index. I knew that already. I also know why they signed up for it. How they made ten times what anyone else would pay by working on campus, and how most of them looked forward to the prospect of being set for life with a ten million dollar payout if they ended up pregnant.


    ¡°And with the NDAs, she couldn¡¯t even talk about it to anyone.¡± Evan¡¯s enormous fists ball up. He¡¯s literally shaking with rage. ¡°If the lawyers found out what she told me, she¡¯d have to forfeit everything she¡¯s ever made working there and then get sued for more. Even if she beat that in court, she¡¯d end up paying lawyers¡¯ fees for the next couple of decades.¡±


    I give Evan a nod of agreement that I don¡¯t feel. It¡¯s not that he¡¯s wrong, it¡¯s just that I don¡¯t care. Father didn¡¯t kill Mom. I¡¯ve still never told Evan that. I never will. I¡¯ll take that one to my grave. I killed him and broke Jeff and he didn¡¯t even do it.


    ¡°We killed a monster, Noah.¡± Evan declares, slamming his fist down against the railing hard enough to crack the plastic casing and bend its metal core. ¡°That¡¯s what we did. Was it awful that we had to sacrifice Jeff to do it? Yes! But the world is better without Father in it. Yeah, he had big dreams, he did some good. But we can do everything that he always dreamed of and more now, and do it without his taint on it. We don¡¯t need him.¡±


    I look up at the million stars. A million points of light, each one brighter than my dark soul. Evan looks at me expectantly.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right,¡± I finally say. But he¡¯s not. How am I any better than Father was? I¡¯m a murderer, too. At least Father was actually justified in the murders he committed. At least in the ones that I know about.


    We stand there in silence for a long time, looking out over the starlit waves over the bent railing. I feel my brother¡¯s pulse slowly calm back to normal, but his rage takes a long time to fully subside. Eventually, he heads over to the deck chairs and reclines his back all the way into a cot. I follow and do the same to mine. I don¡¯t even bother stripping off any clothes or even pulling my satchel off of my shoulder. It¡¯s not like I deserve to be comfortable. We lay there in silence for another long while. I hear Evan¡¯s breathing get slow and even.


    Sleep doesn¡¯t come. I toss and turn for the better part of an hour. I need to pee. I get up and make my way through the blackness of the main cabin by the vision my bots provide. I hit the head, then walk back out onto the deck. It¡¯s late, and I¡¯m exhausted, but the railing calls to me more than my makeshift bed. Father may have been as bad as Evan thinks. Maybe he needed to die. But what does that say about me? I¡¯m no better.


    I lean out, looking at the dark roll of the waves. The water is beautiful. It is good.


    I am not.


    I look over at Evan. He¡¯s fast asleep.


    I step up onto the middle bar of the railing. I glance back, taking one last look at my brother and best friend. I hope he doesn¡¯t hate me too much for this. He¡¯ll have to save the world now, him and Louise and the rest. They can do it all without my taint on it. They don¡¯t need me.


    I drop the satchel that I always wear with my processing appliance in it onto the deck. I won¡¯t need that where I¡¯m going.


    "Goodbye," I whisper. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I turn back to the endless ocean. I lift one foot up onto the top rail. I close my eyes and jump into the black.

 Tue 05/23 00:48:09 HST

    ¡°He¡¯s got a pulse now!¡±


    The voice seems to come from very far away.


    A wrenching sensation rips through my chest. Liquid spews out of my mouth. I sputter and cough, then gasp for air. Hands push me onto my side as more water gushes out of me, then roll me onto my back again once the coughing and vomiting subside. My eyes open. I see Evan and Andrea crouched over me.


    ¡°You with me, Noah?¡± Evan asks.


    I cough and sputter some more. I¡¯m not dead. I¡¯m supposed to be dead. I deserve to be dead.


    ¡°You were under for over two minutes. Can you hear me? Blink if you can hear me.¡±


    I blink and nod.


    ¡°Are you OK?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say between more coughs. ¡°I¡¯m on the deck when I should be under the water.¡±


    I hack out a laugh. Evan slaps me across the face. Hard.


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t you joke about that.¡±


    ¡°No joke,¡± I say through a series of coughs. ¡°Let me go back.¡± I try to rise. ¡°It was nice down there. She was down there.¡±


    His strong hand pushes me back down.Evan is strong, but I¡¯m faster, desperate, and slippery. If I can twist just right, I think I can get out of his grip. I take a swing at his face and feel my fist connect with his cheek. His grip falters and I¡¯m almost free. I scramble toward the railing just a couple of meters away.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Andrea croaks.


    The sound of her voice is slurred and broken, profoundly wrong on every level. That¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever heard her say a word. It hits me harder than Evan¡¯s slap. I fall to the deck and stop resisting as Evan pins me down again. A memory surfaces of Father¡¯s notes saying that she should be able to talk again if she wants to. I guess he was right.


    I give up and lay back down.


    ¡°OK.¡± I say.


    ¡°We all done trying to do stupid shit?¡± he asks.


    I look up at him. He¡¯s not giving in on this. I nod.


    ¡°Good. Now, are you all right?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°Yeah, super.¡±


    ¡°Is your implant still working? It¡¯s got diagnostics.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, probably,¡± I answer. ¡°The console came back up, anyway,¡±


    ¡°Hold on a second, I need a cable,¡± he says. ¡°Andrea, do know where¡ªno, nevermind, I know right where it is. Hold him here.¡±


    He waits a moment while I feel my limbs bound by invisible forces. I don¡¯t need to turn on the overlay to know what her bots are doing. Once Evan is sure I can¡¯t move, he lets me go and sprints to the cabin. I hear the click of one of the waterproof supply cases being opened.


    Andrea sits down next to me and puts her hand firmly on my chest with a warning look. Not like I could move if I wanted to. Why am I so small? All there is of me is just this stupid human body. I feel like I¡¯ve had all my limbs amputated. I let my head loll to the side to cough out more water and notice the layer of dark dust on the deck. How long did he say I was under? Two minutes? Long enough that all my bots lost connection and lobotomized themselves. Andrea¡¯s warning look fades, her expression melting into pure sadness.


    ¡°I really am sorry about Jeff,¡± I whisper. ¡°I know how wrong that was.¡±


    Andrea turns away, tears starting to flow down the sides of her cheeks. Evan returns with a small black cable in one hand and one of the white boxes we use for medical bots in the other. Andrea turns away from him and wipes her tears on the sleeve of the hoodie she¡¯s wearing.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Have you checked your brain yet?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s clearly working well, man,¡± I say, trying to smile but only managing a grimace. ¡°I¡¯m making good life choices now. I haven¡¯t attempted suicide in minutes.¡±


    ¡°Too soon, brother. Shut up while I check you.¡±


    He finds my satchel still laying on the deck where I dropped it. He fished out my processing appliance, plugs the cable into it and then into his own. A live brain scan pops up in the air between us as he puts my implant into diagnostic mode. It¡¯s low on oxygen all around, but it doesn¡¯t look like any significant parts died off. As reds turn to yellows, everything appears to be starting to get back to normal. Evan stares into space for a long time, clearly doing a more thorough check.


    After several minutes, he nods, apparently satisfied.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s make sure you don¡¯t get pneumonia. Try to hold still as much as you can.¡± He opens the medical box. ¡°I¡¯m going to get as much water out of your lungs as I can.¡±


    I feel a weird sensation as the bots flood into my mouth. It gets worse when they start flowing out through my mouth and nose. Holding still isn¡¯t going to happen. I sneeze and cough, then cough and sneeze a lot more. I don¡¯t move much though, since Andrea still has me bound. Finally the sensation fades, and I see the tiny bots file back into the box where they¡¯ll sterilize themselves back to a perfect clean. Once they¡¯re all in there, Evan seals the box back up.


    ¡°See? I¡¯m fine.¡± I say, trying again to sit up. Andrea loosens me just enough to let me get into a sitting position, but I can¡¯t move more than that. ¡°How did you even know I jumped?¡±


    He waves up at the bridge deck of the cat. ¡°There¡¯s a man overboard alarm built into this thing. I didn¡¯t even know about it until it went off.¡±


    Damn that clever dev team, thinking of everything. I look longingly out at the waves. I could have been done. I could have been free. I swear, for a minute down there I saw Mom¡¯s face. Probably just the delusion of a dying man, a last burst of neural activity before I lost consciousness.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to thank Chuck and Marcus next time you talk to them,¡± I say. ¡°Or blame them, depending on how you¡¯re feeling about me around then.¡±


    ¡°I guess that all depends on whether you want to sucker punch me again next time I¡¯m trying to save your life.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you hit me first. I was just minding my own business, trying to finish a little midnight swim you rudely interrupted.¡±


    He snorts out something that¡¯s almost a chuckle. He finally seems satisfied that I¡¯m not in immediate danger of getting worse and disconnects my device from his.


    ¡°Hey, give me a minute alone with Andrea, would you?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Only if you promise not to jump again,¡± he says.


    ¡°Not in the next few minutes, at least,¡± I promise. ¡°Besides, she can obviously stop me better than you can.¡±


    He shakes his head. I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s mad, or sad, or just tired. It¡¯s hard for me to read emotions these days without the vitals that the bots show me. He heads into the cabin without another word. Andrea¡¯s firm bonds still hold me against the deck.


    ¡°I really am sorry about Jeff,¡± I whisper again. ¡°I know how wrong that was.¡±


    Her face turns away from me for what seems like forever.


    ¡°Keep a secret for me, please,¡± I ask her. ¡°One you can¡¯t tell anyone ever.¡±


    She turns and looks at me. More tears roll down her cheeks. She nods slowly.


    ¡°Father didn¡¯t kill my mom. Not really. He just made her mad and she had a car accident driving angry. I thought he did it. I was so sure for so long. I found out the truth the day before we killed him. but my broken brain lost it. I couldn¡¯t remember it until it was too late. He killed other people, but he didn¡¯t kill her.¡±


    She cries harder.


    ¡°I deserve to die for what I¡¯ve done. For Father, and for how I wrecked Jeff. I know that,¡± I tell her. ¡°I¡¯ll jump again now if you want.¡±


    She shakes her head emphatically.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll do whatever you want me to do,¡± I promise.


    I feel the invisible threads holding me to the deck let go. She reaches over and takes my hand, holding it.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I say again. I¡¯m crying now, too.


    She pulls me close to her, embracing me.


    ¡°So sorry,¡± I repeat, over and over. She holds me for a long time. When she finally releases me, she gives me a long look, then a nod.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say.


    I feel empty, but different than my normal dead emptiness. Now I feel like an infested wound that¡¯s just been drained.


    Andrea gets up, then helps me to my feet. I stumble a little as she escorts me to the cabin. Evan doesn¡¯t say a word. I get a better look at his face. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s mad now, just worried. They give me a few minutes to get cleaned up in the bathroom, then march me into the bedroom. Evan tucks me into the center of the bed, then lays on one side of me on top of the blanket. Andrea climbs over both of us and gets on top of the blanket on the other side of me, laying there on her side with her back against my arm. I¡¯m pinned in the middle by the covers. Without any bots, I don¡¯t think I could get out even if I wanted to.


    The warmth of their bodies brings back memories of Mom, more of them that I thought were gone forever. Old memories, when Mom would tuck me in and lay on top of the covers like this while she read me a story.


    Mom, I¡¯m sorry I failed you so badly. Please, help me to be a better man.

 Tue 05/23 09:17:02 HST

    A brightness presses against my closed eyes. I open them and see the light filtering in through a window. I¡¯m in something that looks like a bedroom, but it¡¯s like there¡¯s a smooth earthquake going on. The room is rocking back and forth. I¡¯m on a boat. A frantic message blinks in red, telling me to read.


    I do.


    Evan and Andrea put me here in this bed after I tried to kill myself.


    I failed.


    I can¡¯t move.


    The bedding is fused to the frame of the bed all the way around, only letting my head out. I try to squirm to get some leverage. No luck. I can¡¯t move anything. No bots. I¡¯m down to my original five senses and the muscles on my body, which are not nearly strong enough to get me anywhere with whatever reinforced binding magic they put on to make the sheets trap me against the mattress.


    ¡°Hey, Evan? Andrea?¡± I call out. ¡°Can I get up?¡±


    No response.


    ¡°Please?¡±


    Still nothing.


    To Andrea, Evan: Can I please get up?


    Nothing. No, wait, that wouldn¡¯t even work without bots. I just read Evan¡¯s explanation about that.


    Looks like I¡¯m stuck in here with nothing but my electronic brain augmentation for company. I hope they come check on me soon. I¡¯m thirsty and I have to pee.


    I wish I could say I don¡¯t know what I was thinking last night, but I wrote it all down so I can¡¯t. It¡¯s just as well that Evan saved me. If there is anything after this life, I have way too much to make up for before I see Mom again. Even if there¡¯s not, I¡¯m not going to let myself disgrace her memory. Not again, anyway.


    I¡¯m going to be better, Mom. You¡¯ll see.


    They must be building a platform without me. It¡¯s the only thing I can think of that might take them out of earshot. I hope they finish soon. My bladder can only hold for so long.


    Eventually I hear footsteps somewhere outside the room. I feel so blind. I can¡¯t even remember how I lived without bots.


    ¡°Hey, a little help here?¡± I yell.


    ¡°Yeah, coming.¡± Evan¡¯s voice.


    ¡°I need out of here now unless you want a mess to clean up,¡± I say as he enters the room.


    ¡°On it,¡± he says as the bedding starts to loosen around me.


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    As soon as I¡¯ve got enough slack to crawl out, I bolt for the head and relieve myself for a long time. I wash my hands and step out to find Evan sitting at the table in the main cabin.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he says. ¡°We had a build to do. We thought some extra sleep would be good for you, but well, you know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I figured,¡± I reply, taking a seat next to him. ¡°I understand. I wouldn¡¯t have let me run loose either. I¡¯m sorry about last night.¡±


    Out the wide doorway, I see Andrea land a giant jump onto the deck from the newly built platform. She gives me a hopeful half-smile as she approaches the cabin, somewhere between an apology and asking how I¡¯m doing.


    ¡°You can call off the suicide watch,¡± I tell them both. ¡°I¡¯m OK now. I won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    Andrea¡¯s arched eyebrow says volumes.


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    She gives me a long look. I wonder if she¡¯s running the polygraph on me.


    ¡°I will not try to kill myself again,¡± I say one more time.


    Finally she nods.


    ¡°Good enough for me,¡± Evan says. ¡°Besides, that last build took forever without you. You want me to transfer some bots over to you so you can bootstrap a cloud?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, please,¡± I respond. ¡°I feel worse than naked without them.¡±


    He preps some bots for transfer and I receive them. A tiny patch of skin, enough to get started. It feels so right to have that sense back, even in its tiniest incarnation like this. There are still a few lobotomized bots scattered around the deck. They can¡¯t be reactivated, but they have all the materials I need to make some fresh bots. I start breaking them down and regrowing. It¡¯s tedious, starting from a seed this small, but eventually a few hundred become a few thousand then a few million. Slowly, I start to feel like I have a real cloud again. Like I¡¯m me again.


    Evan hits the bathroom. Andrea opens the icebox and brings me some orange juice, which I drink while I rebuild.


    ¡°We good, you and me?¡± I ask her. She nods and gives me a hesitant smile. Then she puts a finger to her lips. Good enough, I¡¯ll take it.


    Evan rejoins us and we talk about nothing for a few, then he takes to the deck and settles in for a rest. That¡¯s probably a good idea. He looks exhausted.


    I sit in silence with Andrea as we motor on to the next build site. She¡¯s etching another work of art onto the ceiling of the cabin. I¡¯m skimming the water for usable junk materials I can turn into bots. I¡¯ve gathered and built a decent cloud by the time the alert sounds telling us we¡¯re there.


    ¡°Oh, we talked to Louise this morning,¡± Evan says as we start building the platform. ¡°Mr. Smith got back to her. He doesn¡¯t think we can do much about Dorothy stealing our tech.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I ask, chewing into one of the catamarans and getting some real growth. I put my swelling numbers of new appendages to work on the platform.


    ¡°That¡¯s what he said was his considered legal opinion,¡± Evan says, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯ll be a long, hard legal battle to prove anything, made worse since there are very few expert witnesses who haven¡¯t worked for either us or them at some point. Then, even if we win, the damages might not even be worth it. As far as we know, they haven¡¯t been doing anything with them yet that makes any money. And all of that will take forever, so by the time the trial is done, the patents will have expired and it¡¯ll all be public domain anyway, so it¡¯s not like we¡¯d even slow them down much.¡±


    Something about that doesn¡¯t sit right with me. From what I wrote in my index about Mr. Smith, I¡¯ve always thought of him as incredibly tenacious, the kind of guy who never backs down from a fight on his own. This doesn¡¯t square with that. I make a note to look into it further when I get back to the campus. I get the feeling that Dorothy is going to occupy a lot of my time when I get home. I¡¯m not letting her just walk away with our birthright. But there¡¯s nothing I can do about any of it now, so I¡¯ll let future me worry about it.


    I let present me lose myself in the work of the build.

 Fri 06/02 10:39:44 HST

    ¡°This one¡¯s the last build,¡± Evan reminds us. ¡°So make sure anything you don¡¯t want slagged is in your backpack on the deck.¡±


    Andrea nods and heads into the bedroom to pack. My bag is already good to go, so I walk over to the back end of the deck and get started. I pull up the last of the spare catamarans and break it down for the materials I need for the start of the platform. Once I have it big enough to stand on, I grab my pack and Evan¡¯s and take a bot-assisted leap over to the growing station. Evan brings the box with the last of the food and follows me over. He sets it down and gets to work on the platform¡¯s control unit.


    The sun is shining down and the tropical heat starts picking up. As I start to sweat, I strip my shirt off and toss it over by the food box. I¡¯d rather not have a stinky shirt stuck in the flight suit with me when we head back to Hawaii later. Evan seems to have the same idea, because he strips his off too.


    ¡°Love the tan lines, brother,¡± he says with a laugh.


    I take a look at myself with my many eyes. He¡¯s not wrong. The color difference between my pale chest and my bronzed arms and face is pretty stark.


    ¡°Yeah, maybe I should even that out today,¡± I say. A couple of hours of sun while we do the build ought to get things looking more normal.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking good, though,¡± he says. ¡°I think Andrea¡¯s exercise plan is just what you¡¯ve been needing. Look, I even see a muscle or two growing on you.¡±


    Andrea laughs from over on the cat¡¯s deck, but I ignore her and give my arms a little flex. I really am looking better than I did a couple of weeks ago. I guess lots of fresh air, sunshine, and exercise are better for you than long days stuck at a desk. Who knew?


    Once she gets done laughing at me, Andrea hops over with her pack and starts ripping apart the cat we¡¯ve been living on. I see her bots chew through most of the hull and cabin, but carefully avoid destroying the walls, ceilings, and floors where she had inscribed artwork. Those parts float over whole and get fused onto the surface of the platform we¡¯re building. I realize after the second panel connects the first one that she¡¯s been planning this all along. The sections from various parts of the boat merge together into a seamless single work on the surface of the platform depicting an old sailing ship on a stormy sea.


    The rest of the build goes smoothly, as we coordinate our efforts with practiced ease. I must have followed these build instructions enough that it¡¯s getting to be part of my muscle memory. The last bits of the two catamarans float over and get incorporated into the solar panels on the platform, and Evan kicks on the control unit to let the station start to grow on its own. We sit down on the edge of the platform and munch on the last of the food.


    Evan pulls the satellite phone from his backpack and fiddles with some buttons to get the heading back to the nearest land.


    ¡°All right. Looks like if we fly at top speed, we¡¯ll run into Kauai in about ten hours,¡± he says. ¡°Noah, you¡¯ve got the maintainers on this one?¡±


    I nod and take one more granola bar. I tear off the wrapper and let it drop down into the water. I watch with satisfaction as the collector sucks it in and starts processing it. I eat most of it and the rest becomes fish food. Evan drops the last trash and the box into the ocean and the platform sucks that all in too. My bots note the almost imperceptible change in the platform¡¯s mass as it incorporates the materials. I do some quick calculations for how many bots I can spare.


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    MAINTAIN(214,000,000,000,000)


    The cascade of pinpricks sweeps over me, but I still have plenty of cloud left. ¡°Done. We all set?¡± I ask.


    Andrea nods and Evan grunts affirmatively. He looks at me as he shoulders his pack. I know what he¡¯s thinking, even if he won¡¯t say it. I promised him I wouldn¡¯t try to kill myself again. He wants to trust me not to plunge back down into the water, but he¡¯s still scared that I might. On the flight over the open ocean, I could pull it off so that he couldn¡¯t stop me and he knows it.


    I suit up and the other two do too. Andrea¡¯s flight suit is even more elaborately detailed than last time. Up, up, and away we go. The wind rushes by. I put in the heading that Evan gave me and let the cloud handle the navigation. After the first few minutes, it¡¯s just a relaxing float, cradled in the second skin of bots.


    The kilometers race by and the platform disappears behind us. If I took a dive now and got myself deep enough, there¡¯s nothing either of them could do to save me. It could still all be over.


    No.


    I promised I wouldn¡¯t.


    Mom wouldn¡¯t want me to.


    The temptation to plunge into the rippled surface below fades. We catch another updraft and settle into a smooth, easy flight pattern. Watching the water is nice for a while, but eventually boredom sets in.


    To Evan: So, what¡¯s next with you and Valerie?


    From Evan: I¡¯m going to meet her in Disneyland on the way back.


    To Evan: Nice.


    From Evan: You want to come along?


    To Evan: I wouldn¡¯t want to be a third wheel on your date.


    From Evan: You wouldn¡¯t be. Andrea¡¯s coming anyway. We¡¯ve been planning it for a while. We were going to surprise you with it, but that was before the whole thing. I wasn¡¯t sure if you would be up for it anymore.


    To Evan: Right. The best way to help someone suicidal is to keep them far away from fun things.


    He looks over at me. I can¡¯t see his face with his helmet on, but I can imagine the look he¡¯s probably giving me.


    To Evan: Sorry. You don¡¯t deserve that.


    From Evan: No. I don¡¯t. Give me some credit, man. I was trying to be sensitive.


    To Evan: I know. I know. I would like to go to Disneyland with you if the option is still on the table.


    From Evan: You¡¯re in luck. I didn¡¯t scalp your ticket in the last few minutes.


    To Evan: Thanks.


    Another hundred kilometers go by before either of us says anything. Then Evan tells me about the perks of the special VIP Disney package we¡¯re getting, which ends up triggering some memories of when Mom and I went and mostly stood in lines on a scorching July day. I revel in them as I index them. Any time I can reclaim anything about Mom, it¡¯s worth it.


    The flight feels like forever. After a few hours, Andrea skews off to the side, getting out of sight. Must be time for a drink and a bathroom break. Evan and I take the opportunity and lower ourselves down near the water. I form a small desalinator, scoop up some water, and take advantage of the minute or so it takes to remove the salt to face away from Evan and evacuate my bladder. On the first sip, the water is warmer than I¡¯d like, so I have the bots that make up the bottle pull ambient heat for power. The second sip is better. I hand it off to Evan and he drinks his fill. I take it back, drink all I can, then dissolve the whole rig, letting the remaining water spill back down into the ocean.


    I give it a few more minutes, then head in the same direction Andrea went with Evan close behind me. She¡¯s heading back our way by the time we get to her. Exchanging nods, we head back on the course to the Hawaiian islands.

 Fri 06/02 21:33:51 HST

    Flying for this long is a little surreal, floating along with nothing but the sound of the wind flowing by, high enough up that my bots feel nothing but the currents of the air. The half moon and the bright stars give just enough light to tell the sea from the sky. Evan and I ran out of stuff to talk about a while back, and Andrea is even harder to talk to than normal when she has her face covered. I see the lights on the shore ahead. Finally.


    We land on the first beach we see, coming in fast and kicking up a good bit of sand as we touch down. The only people I can see or feel are an older couple sitting on beach chairs on the still-warm sand. They seem to take our dramatic entrance in stride, but that might have been helped along by the three empty wine bottles resting on the sand between them.


    ¡°Pardon me,¡± Evan asks them politely as his flight suit melts away. ¡°Is there any place nearby where we could find a good meal?¡±


    The man points us to a diner just across the street from the beach. Evan thanks him and we get there just before they close. The waitress gives us an exhausted look, so I fish into my backpack and put a small stack of high-denomination bills on the table before we even get started. That gets a smile back on her face. I figure since we¡¯ve been eating cheap canned stuff for a couple of weeks, we can afford to eat well and tip big. A few hundred dollars more or less won¡¯t change the Institute¡¯s financial situation, and it seems like it will make a difference to the nice Hawaiian lady taking our orders. We all order their daily special, the loco moco. I have no idea what it is, but I¡¯m hungry enough that the packets of jam in the little box on the table are looking tempting by the time she brings out the food. It turns out it¡¯s a huge pile of rice topped with burger patties, gravy, and sunny-side up eggs. It¡¯s tasty and filling and just what we all needed after the long flight.


    As we eat, I pull my regular phone from my backpack and flip it open for the first time since we left land. I¡¯ve got a whole bunch of messages waiting for me, but the important ones right now are from my new assistant Alan letting me know that he¡¯s been tracking the satellite phone and has lodgings set up for us a couple of kilometers down the highway. Sheryl¡¯s messages let me know that she set up a press event for us in the morning at that same hotel.


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    The rest of the texts are mostly updates on the prep work for the Asia trip, which I skim into my index to digest later. Alan seems to be working out great so far, no major emergencies that I need to deal with right away. I hope he¡¯s not Dorothy¡¯s mole, but that seems unlikely since he had just started with us right before the trip. She would have needed more notice than he would have been able to give her to get a boat that size out there in time.


    I think through transportation options as we step outside, but Andrea makes the decision for us as she starts jogging down the road. I don¡¯t mind, since it feels good to stretch out. Not that the flight suit is an uncomfortable way to travel¡ªthe first little while is great¡ªbut ten hours in basically the same position is a long time. Evan and I try unsuccessfully to keep up with Andrea, but she gets way ahead and by the time we arrive at the posh resort hotel huffing and puffing, we find her in a deck chair by the pool sipping a pi?a colada. Alan must have done a good job with whatever he did to set this up, because the staff immediately gives us the VIP treatment and soon we¡¯re tucked into a nice three-bedroom suite.


    My room has a huge soaker tub that I immediately take advantage of, sinking in and letting the warm water wash away the sweat and tension. I might have fallen asleep in there if Evan didn¡¯t call to me from the suite¡¯s living room. I hop out, dry off, and throw on a change of clothes from my backpack. Evan and Andrea have just started a movie when I get there and are munching on some snacks and lounging on the huge couch. I check the freezer in the tiny kitchen and find an ice cream bar. Perfect. I flop down between them and let the frozen chocolate and vanilla do their work while we laugh at the antics on the screen. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen this one before, but I might have. If I didn¡¯t write it down here it doesn¡¯t really matter much either way.


    Andrea leaves us first. She doesn¡¯t even make it to the end of the show. Evan and I stay up until the credits roll. Evan pats me on the shoulder and checks to make sure I¡¯m OK as we head to our rooms.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m all right,¡± I tell him. ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot of time to think since my midnight swim. My mom wouldn¡¯t have liked what I did. What it would have done to you and Andrea. What it would have meant for the world. You guys still need me. The plan still needs me. I¡¯ve got too much I need to do to take any easy way out. I¡¯ve been a real bastard, but I¡¯m going to do better. I¡¯m going to live so that Mom would have been proud of me.¡±


    ¡°Good enough, brother,¡± he replies, pulling me in for one of his gigantic hugs. ¡°Now get some sleep. I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡±

 Sat 06/03 07:00:02 HST

    Upbeat pop music wakes me up. I¡¯m in a hotel of some kind from the looks of it. A gorgeous blonde barges in and gives me a beckoning wave and a smile. Andrea. I know her. What does she want at this hour? Oh, wait, I know what this is. She¡¯s going to make us exercise again. I read my update while she leads me and the big guy I recognize as Evan through a progressively demanding series of stretches and poses. My body is accustomed enough to the routine that it doesn¡¯t hurt much even when she pushes us further than my notes from yesterday say we¡¯ve been going. Now that I remember that, it feels a little weird to have anything playing other than the rolling drum chorus she used on the boat.


    Feeling limber, I hit the shower and wash off the sweat. I feel Evan answer a knock at the suite¡¯s door while I¡¯m getting cleaned up. It feels like some fancier clothes than what we¡¯ve been wearing on the boat. Alan must have arranged for delivery. He has good taste, the tailored tan suit is tropical themed, but pretty upscale. I float my set into my bedroom and lay it out on the bed. I glance at the mirror as I slide on some deodorant and realize I¡¯m looking pretty scruffy. I haven¡¯t shaved in a while. I pull over a few bots and scour off the stubble as I dry off and get dressed. I could get a closer shave with a razor, but this is so much faster and easier. Plus, I never cut myself this way.


    Evan emerges from his room just a minute or two after I come out of mine. Where my clothes are muted, he¡¯s sporting some brighter and bolder colors. I don¡¯t think I could pull it off, but he looks fantastic. Andrea comes out a few minutes later looking stunning in a red and white dress that looks like it was made for her.


    ¡°Ready for the cameras?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± I answer, as Andrea smiles and leads us out.


    The press event is in a grassy area near one of the resort¡¯s pools. I put up some bot screens as the sound guys finish setting up mics and the camera crews and reporters stand ready. I cycle through pictures and videos of the platforms we built while Evan talks through the script that Sheryl provided. His delivery is excellent, and he just looks like he belongs here. I wonder if his mother was Hawaiian. Andrea puts up a three dimensional model showing a time-lapse of a platform in operation, how it captures plastic and grows and then someone can build whatever they want on top of it. She puts a happy cartoon family on a floating farm in her display. The reporters ask some softball questions. I field those with the help of my index, which makes it so easy to spew facts and statistics. And then we¡¯re done. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be the feel-good piece on all the news outlets today.


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    The concierge points us to a place for lunch just a couple blocks away from the hotel. Amazing burgers with an asian flair. I order something called furikake fries that turn out to be unbelievably good. I alternate them with bites of my teriyaki burger. Andrea silently laughs as Evan¡¯s eyes go wide and start watering when he mistakes the fiery hot sauce for ketchup.


    This is so good, being here with these two, solving problems, saving the world. Life can be good. Maybe I can even learn to be happy again. I was once, I think. Forgetting isn¡¯t the answer, I¡¯m not going to try that again. I just need to find a different path.


    Help me, Mom, if you¡¯re out there anywhere. I need you.


    I dip a fry in Evan¡¯s sauce so that my sibs will think the tears building in the corners of my eyes are from that. If they know otherwise, they¡¯re too polite to say it.


    We do the tourist thing for the afternoon. Andrea¡¯s shopping makes me start to worry about the Institute budget again as she adds a few dozen new outfits to her collection, but once I crunch the numbers I calm down. It¡¯s still a drop in the bucket compared to what we¡¯re spending on everything back on campus. Evan and I get ourselves some Hawaiian shirts and a bunch of cheap souvenirs for all the little sibs. We end up with enough stuff that the easiest thing is to take a couple of cars back to the airstrip after we finish our dinners at the seafood place near the beach. Andrea¡¯s shopping loot fills one of them on its own and we can barely fit ourselves and the souvenirs in the other.


    Back on the plane, Cindy is getting all our stuff stowed. I put my bots in sleep mode, grab a tablet, and start getting caught up on all the work I¡¯ve missed. Evan pulls it out of my hands.


    ¡°Nope, vacation time,¡± he declares. ¡°From tonight until tomorrow night, you¡¯re on vacation.¡±


    ¡°Just one little spreadsheet?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll all be there tomorrow night,¡± he reassures me. ¡°I¡¯ll let you do all the business stuff you want then.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I say with insincere sullen resignation in my voice.


    We find some movies we can agree on as the plane takes off, an old sci-fi epic in three parts. I know I¡¯ll probably only make it half-way through. The cushy chairs are super comfortable. I feel myself fading out between the muted roar of the engines and the movie¡¯s dialog that I can¡¯t remember but somehow know I¡¯ve heard a dozen times before.

 Sun 06/04 20:44:16 HST

    Even though I¡¯d probably never do this on my own, part of me is grateful that Evan is making me take a vacation day. We can pretend for a moment that we¡¯re not carrying the weight of saving the world on our shoulders. We spend the morning riding the roller coasters, laughing at the performers, eating way too many treats, and getting our pictures taken all over the place. I feel more than a little guilty for enjoying myself this much. I know I don¡¯t deserve it. I have way too much work to do to waste a day like this.


    I have to give Evan credit, Valerie is surprisingly amazing. I''ve seen her around campus, and said hi to her several times, but I¡¯ve never really taken the time to get to know her until today. My index entry for her is mostly based on Father¡¯s files and what Evan says about her, but that¡¯s a weak substitute for talking to her on my own. She certainly is as gorgeous as Evan says. I know she¡¯s got some Vietnamese heritage, and I¡¯m very curious where else her ancestors are from that gives her those distinctive features and brass skin tone, but I¡¯m too embarrassed to ask. Her petite build isn¡¯t really my type, she¡¯s got a great figure by anyone¡¯s standards. Her small body looks even tinier when she¡¯s next to my huge brother.


    The tour guide who lets us skip the lines leads us to our VIP seats. The Main Street parade is starting in ten, so we can take a break for a few from the fast pace we¡¯ve been going.


    ¡°Anyone want some ice cream?¡± Evan offers.


    ¡°I¡¯m still full of whatever those fried things were,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Beignets,¡± Valerie says helpfully. ¡°And I¡¯m full too.¡±


    Andrea pops an ice cream cone icon in the air and the two of them hurry off to get their frozen treats before the show starts. The guide is a few meters back, which leaves Valerie and I alone.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re probably wondering why I¡¯m dating your brother,¡± she says. ¡°What with the age difference and all.¡±


    I nod. ¡°I can¡¯t say the thought hadn¡¯t crossed my mind. What are you, like six years older than he is?¡± I kick on the polygraph function and aim a few dozen bot eyes at her. Not that I have any reason not to trust her, but Evan means a lot to me and if she¡¯s going to hurt him I want to know about it sooner than later.


    She laughs. ¡°Only five. Five and a little. The short answer is because he asked me to, and I like him.¡± I¡¯m not picking up any extra stress, but I don¡¯t have enough of a baseline to be sure.


    ¡°And the long answer?¡± I ask.


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    "Well, I''ve never had what you''d call a normal dating life,¡± she says. ¡°I graduated high school at fifteen and went straight to college. All the guys in my undergrad program just called me jailbait and avoided me. Then when I went in for my midwifery certification and nursing doctorate, it was almost all women in my cohort and I was on the rush track so I basically didn¡¯t see anyone else regularly for a few years. Then I started working for your father and living at the campus. You know how many social opportunities that place provides. So I had basically just resigned myself to living without romance for this phase of my life."


    All registering as true. The parade starts rolling by with a grand clamor and I have to form a mic near her mouth to make sure I don''t miss anything.


    "Then along comes Evan,¡± she continues. ¡°The first time I met him I thought he was like twenty or something. I mean, you know how old he looks. And he''s cute, so I flirted a little. I stopped as soon as I realized how old he was, but the damage was done. He had already fallen madly in love with me.¡±


    She smiles and laughs, but she¡¯s not wrong. Evan is crazy about her. I can see why. She¡¯s wicked smart, funny, and as Evan says way too often, she¡¯s hot.


    A guy in the mouse suit passes by, waving. He¡¯s followed by a duck and a dog who wears clothes, then another dog that doesn¡¯t. They seem familiar and I¡¯ve been seeing pictures of them all day. I feel like I should know their names, but I don¡¯t.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess he likes you all right,¡± I say, amplifying my voice a little in her direction with my bots. ¡°I hear you two had a fun time on your little jaunt up to Vegas.¡±


    She blushes a little.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what he told you, but I was a very good girl,¡± she says with indignation that the polygraph tells me is only a little bit deceptive. ¡°I kept my hands to myself.¡±


    I laugh. I think Evan got a little more action than he told me about.


    ¡°Just take care with my brother. I don¡¯t want to have to kill you if you hurt him.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s been through enough,¡± she says, her voice full of sympathy. ¡°The way your Father died, oh wow! No one should have to go through that. Hurting him is the last thing I¡¯d ever do. We¡¯re going to take things nice and slow, and if things don¡¯t work out between us I promise that it won¡¯t be because of anything I meant to do.¡±


    Her vitals tell me she¡¯s sincere. Good enough. And good that Evan is keeping his mouth shut about what really happened with Father. We should really formalize the vow of silence on that at some point. Evan and Andrea stroll back to us as the parade wraps up along with our VIP guide from the park staff.


    ¡°Sorry, we got caught on the other side of the parade,¡± Evan apologizes as takes a bite from his cup with pineapple sherbet in pineapple juice.


    ¡°No worries,¡± she answers, smiling at him and giving him a peck on the cheek. ¡°I got a chance to get to know Noah a little. You¡¯re right, he¡¯s not too bad. Now, who¡¯s up for riding that train that goes through the mountain?¡±


    I was happy for Evan before, but I¡¯m even happier for him now. I try to imagine for a moment what it would be like to have someone in my life like that, but I just can¡¯t. He¡¯s a lucky man.

 Mon 06/05 09:17:52 PDT

    To Evan: So how did things go last night after I went to bed?


    My brother gives me a sly smile from his seat.


    From Evan: We had a very nice time, thank you.


    To Evan: Just make sure your very nice times include protection. She¡¯s still under contract for ten million if a Butler impregnates her and I don¡¯t have that kind of slack in the budget right now.


    From Evan: No, no. It¡¯s not like that. Not yet, anyway. We just talked out in the hot tub.


    To Evan: So you wouldn¡¯t have gone back to her room if she had invited you?


    He looks at her thoughtfully as she and Andrea play something on the jet¡¯s gaming console.


    From Evan: I reserve the right to not answer that. But she didn¡¯t extend the invitation last night, so I doubt I need to worry about it anytime too soon.


    Even though it¡¯s a short flight, Cindy pops in offering snacks and drinks. I¡¯m still full from breakfast, but Evan takes some cookies. I don¡¯t even try to work, even though I have a pile of things in my electronic brain that need my attention. A few more hours of relaxing won¡¯t hurt anything. Besides, running around that amusement park yesterday was a bigger workout than what Andrea puts us through and I¡¯m still exhausted.


    We touch down at the airstrip near campus, where I see an unmarked jet that I don¡¯t recognize. Weird, who else would be flying here? I poke around with my bots for a second and there¡¯s no one on the jet, so we walk to the van that¡¯s waiting for us. Alan emerges from the driver¡¯s seat.


    ¡°Welcome back, sirs! And ladies!¡± It feels weird to be called sir. My index tells me that I¡¯ve told him just to use my name, but he seems to want to avoid that level of familiarity. He helps get all the loot from Hawaii and Disneyland loaded from the jet to the van even though it probably would have been just as fast if he got out of the way and let us do it with our bots. It was good that he thought to pick us up, since we¡¯ve got Valerie with us and she can¡¯t fly. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to me to think of how we¡¯d get back to campus.


    ¡°So who¡¯s the visitor?¡± I ask him, pointing to the other jet as we start back towards home.


    ¡°I believe your Chinese delegation has arrived, but Louise has been coordinating everything without involving me, so I don¡¯t know any of the details.¡± He seems a little put out by that, which I don¡¯t mind. I wanted someone very hands-on for this job.


    ¡°A young woman and her translator?¡± I ask, as the computer part of my brain pops helpful reminders into my field of vision.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll be them.¡±


    Excellent. Louise must have closed that deal while we were gone. I can¡¯t tell if I didn¡¯t record something, or if I was just out of the loop on their arrival being today. Alan drops us off at the front gates, then goes to park the van. I feel Louise in the foyer of the Residence with a couple of people I don¡¯t know. Valerie gives Evan a quick peck on the cheek and hurries away to the side door that opens directly to the medical wing. Andrea breaks off and heads toward the dorms. Evan and I open the big main doors and see a slender young woman talking to Louise through her stern-looking translator.


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    ¡°Oh, good, you¡¯ve arrived just in time. Noah, Evan, this is Liu Mei Lin, and her translator Yang Song,¡± Louise says, introducing the pair. ¡°These are my brothers that I was telling you about.¡±


    Yang Song¡¯s index entry pops right up, but I have to look the girl¡¯s record up manually. My facial recognition probably failed because her face has changed too much from the weight loss. The picture I have indexed is a couple of years old, and I can barely recognize her from it. Her cheeks are empty hollows now and where she had once had long black hair, her bald head is wrapped in a red silk scarf. Either the disease or the treatments she¡¯s been getting haven¡¯t been kind to her. Probably both. Cancer sucks. She looks like she might be close to our age, but it¡¯s hard to tell. I think I knew how old she was at some point, but it looks like I forgot to include it in her index entry.


    ¡°I am very nice to meet you,¡± the girl says slowly in thickly accented English. ¡° Please, call me just Lin. American name.¡±


    That earns her a sharp look from her translator. ¡°Miss Liu is pleased to meet you,¡± she repeats, in case we hadn¡¯t understood. She pointedly leaves out the offer putting us on a first name basis with her.


    ¡°Thank you. Noah, Miss Liu is visiting us for a couple of days as part of her tour of the United States,¡± Louise says. I have to look in my index again to figure out why she¡¯s talking like that. That¡¯s right, we¡¯re not officially offering her any treatment. Everything has to be done without any explicit claims. She¡¯ll spontaneously recover some time after she leaves and when she gets home she¡¯ll tell her father what nice hosts we were during her visit. Once he confirms she¡¯s cancer-free, he¡¯ll invite us to his country as his guests in gratitude for our hospitality. At least I sure hope that that¡¯s the way General Liu understands our deal, since we had to couch everything very carefully in diplomatic doubletalk. Of course, nothing was final the last time I looked at it, so Louise may have changed things.


    We all shake hands and exchange pleasantries. Yang Song translates everything, though from the readings my bots are getting for Lin¡¯s reaction times, I suspect she understands most of what we¡¯re saying.


    ¡°We¡¯re honored to have you visit, Miss Liu¡± I say. ¡°When did you arrive? If we¡¯d known you were coming today we would have made sure to be here to greet you.¡±


    Lin responds in Chinese, which Song renders back to us. ¡°Just about an hour ago. Don¡¯t worry, we didn¡¯t plan to get here until this afternoon, but I was very excited to meet the family of Tom Butler. I love the work you have been doing in Africa. I am so sorry for your loss, your father was a great man.¡±


    ¡°And please, just Lin,¡± the girl adds again in English, bypassing Yang Song. ¡°We can be friends.¡± She gets another frown, but the translator doesn¡¯t try to correct her.


    ¡°I hope that we can, Lin,¡± Louise answers with a smile. ¡°And I¡¯m glad that you noticed our family¡¯s work. We¡¯re just trying to help out where we can. Our father¡¯s dream lives on and we hope to continue making the world a better place for everyone. Please, let me show you to your rooms and you can get refreshed before we show you our research labs. You may find them very interesting.¡±


    Evan and I say goodbye and let Louise escort them down the hall to where the guest rooms are. Evan¡¯s eyes drift towards the hall that leads to the medical wing. I know he wants to go see Valerie again even though she just left us. I picture her tiny frame next to his massive one. They¡¯re cute together in a mismatched kind of way. I head out, but Evan catches up to me after just a few seconds as I step down the front steps of the Residence. I guess he¡¯s going to let Valerie actually do her job.


    ¡°She¡¯s awesome, right?¡± he says without preamble. ¡°Tell me you see how awesome she is.¡±


    ¡°Who, that Chinese girl? I can¡¯t say, I barely know her.¡±


    He smacks me playfully on the back of the head. ¡°Valerie, duh. Now that you¡¯ve finally taken some time to get to know her, you see what I¡¯ve been saying all year, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re a lucky guy,¡± I tell him sincerely. ¡°She¡¯s as good as you said.¡±


    His grin is just too big, so I give him a poke in the ribs with my elbow. He responds with a laugh, then nearly plows me off the side of the walkway with a few steps in my direction.


    ¡°Do I need to get the lawyers to start work on a prenup?¡± I ask, only half-joking as I catch my balance. ¡°Because we do need to change up her contracts if you¡¯re going to get serious with her. We could just do both at the same time and save some billable hours.¡±


    ¡°Maybe soon, man, maybe soon.¡±


    I just shake my head. This man has it bad for her. But I think she might be as great as he thinks she is, and I¡¯ve never seen him so happy. I¡¯m glad for him.

 Tue 06/06 07:00:00 PDT

    Something is beeping. I slip an arm from the covers to hit the desk and it doesn¡¯t stop, so it¡¯s not my alarm. I look around, and slowly recognize my room in the dorms. Somehow everything seems not quite right. I look back at my notes to myself from yesterday. That¡¯s right, I haven¡¯t slept here lately. But none of that explains why there¡¯s still a beeping. Why is there beeping?


    I reach out with my bots. Someone made an alarm just outside my door. I turn on the overlay and see that those are Andrea¡¯s bots out there. Why is Andrea waking me up? I search back further. The hotel in Hawaii. The boat. Exercises.


    Dammit. I guess she¡¯s decided that I¡¯m on a regular exercise program with her forever now. I consider whether it¡¯s worth it to fight her on it, but part of me is just glad that she¡¯s talking to me again. Well, not talking exactly, but as close as Andrea gets. I grab some sweats and shoes and stumble out to the commons, letting my bots tie my laces as I go. She¡¯s waiting for me there with a big smile. How can she be this happy this early?


    The rhythm and melody she¡¯s producing are as unrelentingly cheerful as she is. I stretch and pose and work under Andrea¡¯s watchful eyes as I finish catching up on my reading and start to figure out what I need to get done today. Where¡¯s Evan? How come Andrea¡¯s not pulling him into this morning torture like she did on the boat. Maybe I¡¯m her new pet project. I can almost see the thoughts in her head. If you take your pet Noah out on walks every morning, and make sure he gets plenty of exercise and sunshine, he won¡¯t try to kill himself anymore.


    I¡¯m still not at all sure what¡¯s up with Lin, or Miss Liu, or however I¡¯m supposed to think of that name. I¡¯ll just go with Lin. I didn¡¯t have time to sync up with Louise yesterday, since she was doing her tour of the labs with our guests for most of the day. I need to get with her soon, but she¡¯s still sleeping.


    I let her stay asleep like a decent human being. Not like Andrea, that monster. I¡¯m pretty sure I can¡¯t take any more yoga when she finally lets the music die out so that I can collapse on the grass. She waits a few seconds then nudges me with her foot and makes me start jogging around the commons. At least it¡¯s better than the yoga workout. I don¡¯t think this will make any of my joints permanently reverse themselves.


    Three laps around the grassy field. Five. Eight. How is it this hot already? I peel my sweat-drenched shirt off and use it to wipe my forehead before tossing it to the side as I run another lap. Twelve laps. How is Andrea not totally exhausted yet?


    I see a bald head looking out through one of the Residence windows, watching us run. I give Lin a friendly wave and she smiles and waves back. I hope she doesn¡¯t think that I¡¯m a wimp with as much as I¡¯m struggling under Andrea¡¯s merciless coaching.


    Around and around we go. Every lap, I hope Andrea will let me stop, but every time I slow down, I feel her invisible hand on my back pushing me forward. Finally, after an hour and at least a liter of sweat, she lets me go. I flop down, forming a mattress of bots just in time to catch me  before my face hits the sidewalk. I let them carry me into the dorms and to the shower in my room. I pull a change of clothes from my closet and lay it out on the bed while I let cool water stream down over me. Eventually, my heart rate stabilizes and the sweat stops flowing. I turn the water warmer to actually wash up. Once I¡¯ve shaved and dressed, I feel nearly human again. I¡¯m mentally energized despite being physically sore and tired. Maybe I can cut some deal with Andrea to only do this every other day or something. Probably not, knowing her.


    Look Mom, I¡¯m getting healthy now.


    I reach out to see where Louise is and sense her in the cafeteria. Perfect, I¡¯m starving. I get over there, grab a stack of waffles and a couple strips of bacon, and head to the table where Louise is eating with Evan.


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    ¡°So what¡¯s going on with our Chinese delegation?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have something you want to talk about first?¡± Louise asks sternly.


    ¡°No, not a thing,¡± I tell her. I know that I¡¯ll need to talk to her about my suicide attempt at some point, but definitely not here and now. ¡°I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s been telling you, but Evan must have misinterpreted my desire for some extra nighttime swimming practice.¡±


    ¡°Still too soon, man,¡± Evan says around his mouth full of waffles.


    ¡°I¡¯m good Louise, I promise,¡± I say as sincerely as I can. ¡°I¡¯m just working through some things.¡±


    She looks at me for a long time then sighs.


    ¡°I only found out that they were coming about an hour before they arrived,¡± Louise answers, getting back to my question. ¡°From what I can gather, her father, the General, made the decision at the last minute to include us on a whole tour of American desperation treatment options for her. That works out pretty well for us, because it means we¡¯re getting independent scans right before we treat her from the folks at Stanford, where they were the day before yesterday. Then the doctors at Huntsman Cancer Institute, where they¡¯re going for their next stop, will provide another set of independent scans. It should be pretty easy to convince her father that it was us that cured her when she shows up there with no tumor.¡±


    ¡°Great, how can I help? It¡¯s super important for the Asia trip both that this works and that we get the credit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need someone to hold her perfectly still. I¡¯ve been practicing the procedure for the last couple of weeks while you guys were having your boating party, but the dummies I used don¡¯t breathe or move at all. Can you handle that for us?  I want Evan to focus on monitoring vitals and handling the anesthesia.¡±


    ¡°Sure, that part should be easy.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I think they¡¯re still sleeping, so we¡¯ll get started whenever they¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about the translator,¡± I tell her, ¡°but Lin is already up.¡±


    ¡°Want to check on Yang Song then?¡± Louise asks.


    I reach out to the Residence and break my regular rule of stopping at bedroom doors. Yeah, Lin is up and dressed and working on a laptop at the desk in her room. Is that some C++ code I see her playing with? She¡¯s a programmer? Who knew she was into that? It isn¡¯t in her file at all. I make a note to use that as a conversation point later if I talk to her. Yang Song is still asleep in her room.


    We take a leisurely breakfast, filling in Louise on our Disney fun until I feel Yang Song get up. My task list reminds me that I need to talk to Louise more about Dorothy and our pirated bots at some point, but today I just want her focused on the surgery so I defer that for later. I retract my bots to their doors and we get up to walk over to the Residence so we can greet them when they emerge. I take a second to scribble ¡°Loco Moco¡± on the meal request board on the wall near the door as we leave the cafeteria. We could use some Hawaiian food around here.


    Alan has arranged all the souvenirs and presents in the Residence¡¯s huge foyer. Andrea is already there, starting to pass them out, so Evan and I help her to hand out wooden carvings and colorful shirts from Kauai along with plushies from Disneyland to the nursery kids. I glance at the bottom of one of the wooden turtles from the island and chuckle at the ¡°Made in China¡± label. Figures. The toddlers squeal with joy at the novelties anyway. I wonder if this is the first time they¡¯ve had presents handed out like this. The bigger ones make a big deal out of choosing between shark-tooth necklaces and wooden carvings, while the smaller ones just grab whatever they see first. The nannies help us keep it to two presents per kid.


    We¡¯re just wrapping up when Lin comes down the hallway with Yang Song right behind her. She still has that same tortured look to her. She looks around at the children and gives them a pained smile, looking a little skeletal as she does it.


    ¡°Good morning. Thank you for your tour yesterday. I have spoken to my father, and we are interested to see what you can do for me.¡± Yang Song translates for her when Lin addresses Louise.


    ¡°Please, come this way. We¡¯ll show you,¡± Louise tells her and beckons her out towards the Research Center.

 Tue 06/06 10:17:38 PDT

    Memory triggers are funny for me. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t have memories, I do. They¡¯re in there somewhere. It¡¯s just that whatever the brain software is that lets you remember what you want seems to be totally broken. But if I get the right kind of reminder, I can sometimes go from having no idea what something is to being able to remembering it clearly. Father¡¯s lab is a good example. Every time I walk in, it reminds me of being strapped to the table and experiencing the impossible for the first time. Seeing colors and hearing sounds that never existed as he poked and prodded with tiny electrical impulses around my brain. Flavors and smells that could never be inundating my senses as I tried my best to name them all in my console.


    Lin lays down on the table. Evan and Louise finish scrubbing in, partly for the little bit of work they¡¯ll actually use hands for, partly to help strengthen the thin veneer of medical respectability that we have. I know that General Liu is only looking to us because every conventional treatment has failed, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to at least try to look like we¡¯re professionals. I park the bots that I¡¯m going to use in the same sterilizer that the medical bots use and take a seat well outside of the sterile field area. Yang Song stands as near to the table as she¡¯s allowed, frowning at the three of us. In her sleeveless dress with her arms folded, her muscle tone is impressive. I¡¯d guessed she was in her mid fifties when I first saw her, but maybe I was wrong and her stern expression makes her look older than she is. I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s as much bodyguard as translator for Lin.


    ¡°Just relax,¡± Louise says reassuringly to Lin. ¡°You¡¯ll take a nap, and when you wake up, you¡¯ll feel a lot better.¡±


    Yang Song translates, whispering gently to her. Lin smiles and visibly relaxes.


    ¡°If you could just step over here,¡± Evan directs Yang Song, guiding her a few steps back so he has room to hook up the ventilator. She startles for a moment as Louise floats the box of medical bots through the air and over next to Lin. The box opens, apparently on its own, and Lin¡¯s eyes close as the anesthesia kicks in. Evan gently inserts the breathing tube.


    As he steps back, I build an invisible scaffold around Lin¡¯s head, anchoring millions of bots to the table and forming thousands of tiny rigid chains holding her head immobile. Evan sets down a glass beaker near her shoulder and makes his way back to the monitors. The brain images rotate and alternate, showing highlighted tumors riddling through the brain stem and worming down the spinal cord and up into the cerebellum and around the thalamus. No wonder no one could cut that thing out. It¡¯s like an octopus in there, wrapping tentacles all over.


    Louise stands with her eyes closed for a long couple of minutes. Yang Song looks like she¡¯s about to say something, then stops as she sees thin streams of material start flowing from Lin¡¯s nostrils. I turn on my overlay and see the medical bots running in and out, the ones coming out carrying tiny payloads of tumor flesh. Yang Song¡¯s eyes widen as gray-red sludge begins to accumulate in the beaker.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Look over here,¡± I tell her, indicating one of the monitors.


    The wormy tendrils of the tumor start to thin and disappear as Louise works. The beaker continues filling. Yang Song steps closer to the screen, riveted. It¡¯s slow but steady, each cancerous tentacle gradually evaporating. A tear forms in the corner of her eye as she stares at the array of screens. The beaker is halfway full of sludgy material by the time Louise finishes.


    She gives me a nod and I release the restraints.


    Evan steps over to the table and removes the breathing tube.


    Lin takes an unaided breath. She starts to stir. I carefully conceal my sigh of relief. Louise just saved this girl¡¯s life, saved the Asia trip, and proved we are still on track to kick cancer¡¯s ass.


    The medical bots retreat back to their box which closes like magic and floats away from the operating table.


    Lin slowly moves a hand to her forehead. Yang Song rushes to her side and my bots barely pull the beaker of tumor goo out of the way in time to avoid a really gross mess. Yang Song runs her fingers through Lin¡¯s hair, whispering to her in Chinese.


    Lin turns to her and smiles.


    To Louise: Did you get it all?


    From Louise: Yeah. I can¡¯t guarantee it won¡¯t come back, but she should be good for a while at least.


    To Louise: You are amazing.


    From Louise: Thanks.


    ¡°You¡¯ll want to take a few minutes before you try to stand, but your recovery should be much easier than with conventional surgery.¡± Louise instructs. ¡°Take as long as you need. We¡¯ll have our nursing staff keep a close eye on you for the next few hours, and they¡¯ll be at your disposal for the remainder of your stay with us. Just let us know if you need anything.¡±


    I keep a contingent of bots in the operating room as we walk out to wait in the hallway. Not that I don¡¯t trust them, but there¡¯s a lot of very sensitive gear in there and Dorothy has me paranoid about espionage. Turns out I didn¡¯t need to worry. The two of them just remain at the operating table for a little while, whispering to each other in Chinese. Eventually, Lin gets up and they come right out.


    Lin¡¯s smile lights up her face. She lets out a long string of Chinese and laughs at the end. I like her laugh, it¡¯s almost musical.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Yang Song translates. ¡°I feel better already. I had forgotten what it was like to not have a terrible headache. The reputation of your family is richly deserved. I am very happy that I have come here.¡±


    I¡¯m glad too. Building the water cleanup stuff was good and important, I know, but there¡¯s nothing like seeing someone¡¯s life transform for the better right in front of your eyes. This is the kind of thing worth living for.

 Tue 06/06 11:42:04 PDT

    As I reach the hallway leading to my office, the emotional high of helping to save a life starts to fade. I still have a rat problem to deal with. Someone on my team let Dorothy know where we would be and when we would be there. I need to interview everyone who could have had access to that information and see who my polygraph identifies as having a guilty conscience. I¡¯ll hit the newer hires first, then work my way back. With her history with Father¡¯s company, Dorothy could have been planting sleepers for a long time.


    ¡°Hey Sheryl, got a minute?¡± I ask as I enter her office.


    She turns from her computer and gives me her usual giant smile.


    ¡°Oh hey, Noah! Sure! But first take a look at the slick sheet for the floating islands from your trip. You three did such good work there!¡±


    She points me to the document she¡¯d been working on, some fancied up marketing materials for the platforms we built in the Pacific, touting both the environmental impact and the potential commercial value of future platforms.


    ¡°Looking good, Sheryl,¡± I tell her. ¡°Say, did you happen to hear about our run-in at the first build site?¡±


    She pushes her chair back from her desk and swivels it towards me. ¡°I did! Yes! That was so weird!¡±


    Her usual bubbly personality doesn¡¯t skip a beat. Her vitals are steady, no hint of nervousness beyond the high energy levels that I¡¯ve learned are her baseline normal.


    ¡°Yeah, someone named Dorothy James. Had you heard of her before?¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡¯ve read up on her since then. I can put together an info dump on her if you need.¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Sincere again, no tension.


    ¡°Sure, that would be great.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have it in your inbox tomorrow morning then!¡± she says, as eager to please as always.


    ¡°Thanks, Sheryl.¡±


    Talking to Sheryl is a little bit like chugging maple syrup from the bottle, but she does great work. It definitely wasn¡¯t her selling us out to Dorothy.


    I hit Alan¡¯s office next. I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s not the rat, since I just brought him on right before the trip, but I need to talk to him anyway.


    ¡°Sir!¡± he says, rising to his feet as he sees me at his doorway. ¡°What can I do for you today?¡±


    ¡±Please, just Noah,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m just checking in. How are the logistics coming along for the Laos leg of the Mekong trip?¡±


    ¡°Very well, sir,¡± he says, ignoring my request to use my name. ¡°I just signed on the last of the six guides you¡¯ll have there. Between them they speak all the major local languages. There was no way I could get everything covered because there are so many minority languages in the region, but I¡¯ve got every dialect used as a primary language along the river and major tributaries covered. Since you¡¯ll need local funds for food along several rural stretches that still don¡¯t have access to the credit card infrastructure, I¡¯ve got accounts set up for you at several local banks. The guides will be able to pull hard currencies as needed without needing to carry it all from the start of the trip.¡±


    He¡¯s his regular efficient and collected self. Good. The trip planning is all on track.


    ¡°Sounds good. Did we talk about Dorothy James yet?¡±


    No emotional reaction from him. Yeah, he¡¯s not the rat.


    ¡°The woman running the ship that you met out on the ocean? No, sir. I only know what Louise relayed to me. Was there something you wanted me to do about her? Did you need a meeting with her?¡±


    ¡°No, not yet. For now, just make sure we have contact information for her so we can get in touch later.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. I¡¯ll have it by the end of the hour.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say as I turn and walk out of his office.


    Two down, a whole bunch to go.

 Wed 06/07 17:21:19 PDT

    Caterers and staff bustle around the foyer as they prepare for the small celebration we¡¯re putting on for Lin tonight. She¡¯s been resting since the surgery yesterday, but Louise says everything went perfectly. No complications at all. The party will be a nice break from interviewing almost everyone on the campus staff. Not a single one of them so far has given me any suspicious vitals when I press them about Dorothy. Most of them don¡¯t even know who she is. The only ones who have heard of her are the few who have been here a long time and remember her from back when she was tight with Father, or the ones that heard from Louise about us running into her on our trip.


    With the fancy tablecloths and formal place settings, the foyer of the Residence has been transformed into a high end dining experience. As usual, Mrs. Hastings did a fantastic job. A dozen round tables with fancy centerpieces are spread through the room. The caterers in their crisp black and white uniforms have a big spread of barbecue laid out in warmers along one side of the room. From what Yang Song told us, it''s Lin¡¯s favorite American food and she¡¯s been looking forward to having some since she arrived in the country. The brisket and pulled pork don¡¯t smell quite as good as the memories they¡¯re triggering of what Gramps makes, but it¡¯s just the food I¡¯m smelling and not the smoker, so it¡¯s not quite the whole experience.


    All of the oldest three classes of sibs are invited, along with a bunch of the staff that lives on campus. Pretty much everyone I can count on not to cause an international incident. Over in the cafeteria I can feel the younger kids lining up for the same food. They seem excited for it.


    I catch up with Marc for a few minutes while we wait for Lin and Yang Song to join the party. They¡¯re still holed up in Lin¡¯s room. Marc gives me way more detail than I wanted on everything that went on while we were gone, but it sounds like everything went well here in our absence. Thankfully, Louise has kept quiet about my suicide attempt. The last thing I need is Marc thinking he needs to take care of me.


    Lin and Yang Song finally emerge, and Lin is already looking tremendously better. She¡¯s all fancied up in a traditional dress that my index tells me is called a qipao with a matching headwrap and plenty of makeup. The pained look is still gone and her smile rivals Andrea¡¯s. Louise escorts them to one of the tables and they take a seat. I take the seat next to Lin, Evan takes the seat next to mine, and Valerie and Andrea get the last seats at the table between him and Louise. Everyone else gets settled in at the other tables and the servers come around taking orders.


    Between bites of brisket and mashed potatoes that she¡¯s clearly enjoying, Lin tells us about the rest of the cities she¡¯ll be visiting on her tour of America. I think she¡¯ll have a little more time for sight-seeing than she had originally planned. There are only so many times you¡¯ll need to hear that you¡¯re cancer-free before you don¡¯t need anyone else to check. She¡¯s digging into dinner with gusto. It¡¯s great to see that she¡¯s got an appetite. Maybe she¡¯ll look less emaciated if we ever meet again. It¡¯s amazing what not looking like you¡¯re dying can do for your appearance. She would probably be very pretty once she doesn¡¯t look like she¡¯s dying anymore.


    As the evening goes on, I start to suspect that she''s flirting with me. It¡¯s a little hard to tell since she only speaks in English for some simple sentences and the rest comes from Yang Song, but her vitals are registering signs consistent with attraction when she talks to me¡ªthe dilated pupils, the elevated pulse, the almost imperceptible flush of her cheeks behind her make-up. I¡¯m not sure what to make of it, but she¡¯s pleasant company, and we have a surprising amount in common. And it feels nice to be liked.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I ask her if she¡¯s ever done any programming, not mentioning that my many eyes had seen her doing it.  She gets excited and tells me all about how she fell in love with coding as a way to distract herself from the pain of chemo when she did her first round of it a few years ago. We end up geeking out together through the rest of the meal. Yang Song keeps giving me disapproving glances as she translates, especially when I make Lin laugh.


    I wonder if I could rig up some translation software into the interface. Probably not, at least not without connecting the appliance up to some external system, that stuff takes some significant processing power. Too bad. Not that I think Lin really needs it, as far as I can tell she already understands everything we¡¯re saying in English. She probably just needs a little practice speaking and we could communicate just fine.


    Andrea excuses herself as they serve the desserts. I feel bad that she¡¯s missing out on the rich chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, but she¡¯s back in a couple of minutes. She presents Lin with a pink glass statue of a winged serpentine dragon with a spear through its heart. I look closer and feel it out with my bots. The exterior is hard and glassy, but the density isn¡¯t right: it¡¯s not uniform throughout. The color isn¡¯t quite uniform either. On closer inspection it¡¯s a swirled marbling of red, white, and gray.


    I don¡¯t know whether to laugh or shudder. That¡¯s the tumor inside there! She¡¯s encased the malignant goo and created a piece of beautiful art from it.


    I explain to Lin what it is and she gets a fierce look on her face as she pantomimes thrusting the spear into it. She smiles and speaks quickly in Chinese. Yang Song thanks Andrea effusively. At some more Chinese from Lin, Yang Song carries the statue from the room. I feel her heading towards Lin¡¯s room with it.


    As soon as she¡¯s gone, Lin leans over and whispers in my ear in English. ¡°I think you are cute.¡±


    Yeah, she''s definitely flirting with me.


    ¡°You look pretty good yourself,¡± I whisper back.


    She gives me a peck on the cheek and laughs. I laugh with her. I sense Yang Song hurrying through the halls back to the dining area and I straighten up in my chair, Lin follows suit and we¡¯re back to being perfectly proper by the time she enters the room. Yang Song takes her seat back and Lin gives me a conspiratorial look whenever her translator turns the other way to say something to Louise. We go back to making small talk. Lin is really funny, even with the translation barrier.


    Hey Mom, I think I like this girl.


    Eventually, the party winds down and Yang Song says goodnight. Lin reluctantly follows her back to their rooms, turning to look at me one more time just before she turns the corner and disappears out of sight.


    As soon as they¡¯re gone, Evan and Valerie burst out laughing.


    ¡°Look at you two!¡± Valerie says. ¡°So cute!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s so nice not to be the only Butler son with a girlfriend anymore,¡± laughs Evan.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much long-term potential there is for you with the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Chinese military,¡± Louise says, sliding over into Lin¡¯s seat and elbowing me in the ribs. ¡°But good for you Noah!¡±


    I just shake my head. Cartoon hearts start floating up from my chest and pop like bubbles over my head. Andrea smirks at me from across the table.


    ¡°OK, we¡¯re done here,¡± I declare. ¡°I¡¯ll see you all in the morning.¡±


    They all laugh as I head back to the dorms.

 Thu 06/08 08:43:24 PDT

    It¡¯s weird. She¡¯s not even my type. Not that I really have a type, but she¡¯s not what I ever thought I¡¯d be attracted to. I guess I thought I liked them taller and curvier. And with hair. Maybe blonde hair. But here I am, thinking about Lin. Maybe it¡¯s just because she¡¯s the first girl in my working memory who¡¯s ever expressed attraction to me. Maybe more. I don¡¯t know. But since I remembered she existed when I read my log this morning, I haven¡¯t been able to get her out of my mind. It¡¯s fine. She¡¯ll fly out in a little while and I¡¯ll probably never see her again, and then I won¡¯t need to dwell on her deep brown eyes anymore.


    I stretch my sore legs under my desk. Andrea worked me hard this morning, but I¡¯m trying to ignore the aches and focus on the spreadsheet. The numbers are telling me that even with all the cuts I¡¯ve made, at our new burn rate we¡¯ll still run out of liquid funds and have to start selling Syntech stock in less than a year. I need to cut costs even deeper, or figure out some other financial bridge until we can start the Geologist operations next year, but I just can¡¯t make myself care.


    It¡¯s those eyes. All I can think of is the look in those dark eyes, gleaming with mischief as she snuck in for that little kiss on my cheek.


    I push myself away from my desk. I can¡¯t get anything done, and it¡¯s almost time to see them off anyway. I cross my office and sigh at the wall where Evan has put up pictures of Dorothy and everyone he knows that had any connection to her. He¡¯s going full detective on it, with strings and post-it notes and everything. Unfortunately, everyone that he¡¯s identified as having a Dorothy connection that still works for us has passed my polygraph. I still have no idea who the mole is.


    I can feel Lin and Yang Song heading out of their rooms in the residence. Time to say goodbye.


    I walk out to the commons and get to the Research Center doors as they hit the grassy area, escorted by Louise. Lin seems like she¡¯s doing even better this morning walking with a little bit of a spring in her step, but she¡¯s glancing around a lot like she¡¯s worried she¡¯ll miss something. I step out onto the grass. She sees me and smiles. She stops looking around, so I guess I¡¯m what she was looking for. I intercept them halfway across the field and walk with them to the gate. Yang Song sends a distrustful glance my way, then goes back to talking to Louise. It¡¯s windy, so I have to form a mic to catch what they¡¯re saying, but it just sounds like she¡¯s repeating the after-care instructions that Lin is supposed to follow for the next few weeks. Lin angles her steps in my direction and walks very close to me. Even though the morning air is already almost body temperature, I swear I can feel the warmth of her next to me.


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    ¡°I was hoping to see you again,¡± she whispers.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t let you leave without saying goodbye,¡± I respond quietly. Her hand brushes against mine and I get an electric thrill. Does she want me to take her hand? I can¡¯t tell. With Yang Song just a meter away on the other side of her, I don¡¯t want to get her into any trouble. I turn and give her a smile instead, which she returns with interest.


    Too soon, we¡¯re at the gate where a car is waiting for them. Yang Song opens one door and motions for Lin to get in. Lin says something in Chinese and her translator answers back in what sounds to me like an annoyed tone. Lin says something else and Yang Song gets in the car and closes the door. Lin takes my hand, and I walk with her around to the other side. She maneuvers me so that I¡¯m between her and the car and pulls my head down and kisses me full on the mouth. It¡¯s like tasting honey for the first time. Sweet. Beautiful. New. Perfect.


    I just grin like an idiot as she guides my hand to the car door handle and nudges me to get the door for her. I slowly take the hint and manage the very complicated task of pulling on the handle. She gets in and thanks me in English, giving me one more significant look. Yang Song didn¡¯t see a thing, she was busy fussing with her seatbelt.


    Louise laughs as they drive off.


    ¡°Very sly, Noah. What¡¯s the deal? Her chaperone doesn¡¯t let her kiss boys?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± I answer, only slightly connected to reality.


    Most of me only exists a few moments in the past, running the kiss over and over in my mind. The rest of me frantically updates Lin¡¯s index entry with the best descriptions I can come up with. None of it is even close, but hopefully it¡¯ll bring that moment back.


    ¡°You OK, Noah?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°Yeah, one sec, just making sure I don¡¯t forget this,¡± I say as I finish the totally inadequate index entry.


    Louise laughs at me again. ¡°I got dibs on the next one. I think I need some of what you¡¯re having.¡±


    I just nod and keep grinning.


    Mom, is it OK if I really like this feeling? I barely know this girl and I¡¯ll probably never see her again. I might be an idiot.


    Mom, is it OK for me to feel like this? I barely know this girl and I¡¯ll probably never see her again.


    My bot eyes can see that I look like an idiot, but I can¡¯t seem to knock the smile off of my face.

 Thu 06/08 09:02:04 PDT

    My bots follow Lin a long way out, all the way to the airstrip. With my hundred eyes I see her and Song board their plane. I¡¯m tempted to let her know I¡¯m watching, but I can¡¯t come up with a good way to do it without seeming creepy. The plane door closes and I mentally say goodbye one more time and start pulling my bots back, feeling every centimeter of the long strip of desert road between her and me.


    Meanwhile, Back in my office, I do my best to get my mind back on track for what I need to do. I still need to get my final prep done for my meeting with the legal team. There¡¯s got to be something we can do about Dorothy stealing our tech. I scan through documents and commit them to my digital memory until the reminder for the meeting pops up in my console.


    It¡¯s time. I get up and head to the small conference room. Mr. Smith is already there, down from his office in Las Vegas along with three of his fellow suits. I silently take a seat at the conference table, not really wanting to talk to any of them until I have to. Evan and Louise come in a couple of minutes later, just making it in time for the meeting to start. They usually skip this kind of thing, but I wanted them here to talk about options for Dorothy. We invited Andrea too, but I feel her way across campus listening to music with Lisa from the Geologist class, so I don¡¯t think she¡¯s coming.


    We get started with the reports on the work that the legal team has done over the last week. The only interesting part of that is the prep for the Mekong trip. All the big legal hurdles are cleared now, except for getting permission from the Chinese. Hopefully Lin¡¯s recovery will take care of that.


    From Evan: Is it always this boring?


    To Evan: Yeah, why do you think I wanted to kill myself? I¡¯ve been doing these every week.


    He gives me a sharp glance.


    From Evan: Still too soon.


    Finally, we get to the part of the agenda about Dorothy.


    ¡°We¡¯ve done some investigations,¡± Mr. Smith declares in his deep and authoritative voice, ¡°and it appears that Ms. James is running an operation funded by billionaire Antonio Campos. The technology is closely held, but the financial and legal trail leads us to believe that  she has a significant technical development operation underway in Campos¡¯ native country of Brazil.¡±


    The slide on the screen shows a handsome, dark-haired man in his late forties or early fifties. Facial recognition clicks and I check my index. It¡¯s the man that was on the boat with Dorothy.


    ¡°The tech is closely held because it¡¯s our tech,¡± I say, even more forcefully than I had intended. ¡°Are they claiming they developed it independently?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not making any claims yet,¡± Mr. Smith responds calmly. ¡°As I said, their technology is closely held. They make significant claims about their results, but none about their methods. They released public relations materials which I will send to each of you, claiming that they are solving the crises of plastic in the ocean and of deforestation in Brazil. The latter claim is somewhat ironic, as Campos made most of his fortune from exploiting and destroying large swaths of the Amazon with agricultural and strip-mining operations.¡±


    ¡°So what can we do about it?" Evan demands. "We can¡¯t just let them have our bots.¡±


    ¡°There is very little that can be done from a legal standpoint. As I explained to Ms. Butler,¡± his nod indicates Louise, ¡°the difficulty of proving that their technology derived from yours is considerable, especially given the lack of unbiased expert witnesses in the field. Their operations using nanotechnology thus far have been entirely charitable, so there are no profits to lay claim to. Additionally, jurisdiction is a significant hindrance to any action we might take. Their operations have been in international waters and in Brazil, where the courts will have a strong bias towards them.¡±


    The evenness of his tone is infuriating. Like he was reporting the number of billed hours for the week instead of the pirating of our family¡¯s most important asset. Like he doesn¡¯t care about this at all.


    ¡°Even if we are able to convince a court to impose an injunction to stop them,¡± he continues. ¡°It would almost certainly be after the patents protecting your technology have expired. Pursuing legal action in this matter would be both expensive and unadvisable.¡±


    Something is off about Smith. Even if he¡¯s right, he¡¯s usually tenacious. This defeatist attitude is out of character for him. I start monitoring his vitals. Pulse and blood pressure are elevated, but maybe that¡¯s just him. Eyes are dilated more than the light in the room should account for.


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    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that we should do nothing?¡± I ask. ¡°Just let Dorothy James walk all over us?¡±


    There. Right when I mentioned her name. His face, voice, and body language are perfectly controlled, but he can¡¯t hide his pulse, blood pressure, and pupils from my cloud¡¯s senses. Under that calm exterior, he¡¯s got strong emotional reactions trying to jump through to the surface.


    ¡°That would be the most prudent course,¡± he says, his deception nearly perfect. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want to waste your Father¡¯s dwindling funds on unnecessary legal fees.¡±


    To Evan, Louise: Turn on your polygraph functions, you need to see this.


    ¡°Is that a reference to our cutting your team, Mr. Smith?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Of course not, Mr. Kimball. It is my considered legal opinion, advising you to conserve your family¡¯s resources. There is no point squandering them in a fight that cannot benefit you.¡±


    His face and tone say calm, but his vitals say seething rage.


    ¡°Do you know Dorothy?¡± I ask. ¡°That is, did you know her when she worked for my father?¡±


    ¡°She was a casual acquaintance,¡± he answers, glancing down at the fat stack of papers in front of him on the table. ¡°Our realms of responsibility rarely intersected.¡±


    From Louise: He might as well have big red sign shouting LIAR over his head.


    ¡°Has Dorothy approached you since she left Father¡¯s organization?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen her in years,¡± he says calmly, looking up to meet my gaze. Another lie. I maintain the eye contact with him. He¡¯s a masterful deceiver.


    ¡°Mr. Smith, are you being paid by either Dorothy or Antonio Campos?¡±


    ¡°Certainly not!¡± he snorts incredulously.


    From Evan: I¡¯m afraid his pants might light on fire any second.


    I break my staring contest with Mr. Smith and quickly look up the other three suits with him in my index. Robert Maxwell is the most senior of the three. He stands there behind Smith, his thick black glasses framing his dark eyes over his calm brown face. He has a good track record and he¡¯s been friendlier to work with than most of Smith¡¯s staff. He joined the team well after Dorothy was cut out of SynTech, so the likelihood that he¡¯s also compromised is lower.


    ¡°Mr. Maxwell,¡± I say, looking his way. ¡°Have you had any contact with Dorothy James or Antonio Campos or anyone representing them?¡±


    He looks a little surprised to be addressed directly. Usually Mr. Smith does all the talking in these meetings.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve never met any of them. I only learned about them last week.¡±


    Truth, as far as the polygraph can tell.


    To Louise, Evan: You OK if I pull the trigger on this?


    From Louise: Yeah, can his ass!


    From Evan: Do it!


    ¡°Congratulations on your promotion, Mr. Maxwell. You are now the head of our legal team.¡± I turn to our massive former lawyer. ¡°Mr. Smith, you are fired effective immediately for aiding Dorothy James in corporate espionage against the Butler Institute. You have five minutes to get off the campus grounds. I hope that we can get you disbarred and put in jail soon.¡±


    The seething rage he¡¯d been hiding so well contorts his face for a brief moment before he gets it under control and leaves the room without saying a word. I track him with my bots to make sure he finds his way out. The room is silent for several minutes as Robert Maxwell and the other two suits look at each other in shock.


    ¡°Did what I think just happened just happen?¡± he finally asks.


    ¡°It did, Mr. Maxwell. We¡¯re going to need you to start whatever legal proceedings are appropriate when a lawyer takes money to sell out their current client. Get subpoenas or whatever on Smith¡¯s financials as soon as you can. Also, figure out a better solution for the Dorothy situation than rolling over and playing dead. Draft whatever documents we need to fire Smith and make you officially the head of legal, and we¡¯ll get a majority of the oldest class to sign them today. Also, put yourself in charge as the new executor of the Butler estate and anything else Smith had control of.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he says, a decisive look replacing his earlier confused expression. ¡°And please, call me Robert if you don¡¯t mind. I¡¯ve never been as big on formality as the big guy was.¡±


    ¡°Works for me,¡± I tell him. ¡°But only if you don¡¯t call me sir again. First names are fine for us too.¡±


    He walks us through the options we have for seeking disbarment and filing suit against Smith. I¡¯m impressed he knows all of this off the top of his head, it isn¡¯t even his specialty. Plus he even gives the impression of being a human being when he talks, not a hulking robot. I think I picked well. We take his recommendations on a plan of action for Smith, but he says he needs more time to come up with better alternatives for Dorothy. At least he¡¯s going to work on it instead of tank it intentionally. We wrap things up, then he and the other two leave to get started on all of it.


    ¡°Well, glad we found our rat,¡± I say. ¡°Louise, you want to clue Andrea and Marc in? We¡¯ll need at least one of their signatures.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll go talk to them right now,¡± she says, getting up and leaving.


    ¡°Good job, man,¡± Evan says.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, relieved.


    Something inside me is happy that it was Smith. I can¡¯t remember why I hate him so much, but for some reason I do. I have the strangest urge to call my grandparents and tell them about this.

 Thu 06/09 13:09:21 PDT

    Andrea barges into my office, ignores my protests, and pulls me to my feet. Without any explanation, she tows me out the door and down the hallway.


    ¡°We already exercised this morning,¡± I protest. ¡°I¡¯m not doing twice a day!¡±


    She continues to ignore me as she takes a right turn and opens a door to one of the empty offices on the floor. Well, it was an empty office according to my map of the floor. Now it¡¯s furnished. How did she manage to do this without me noticing? Oh, there¡¯s a weird looking bed there in one corner, next to an oversized armchair.. My algorithm must have registered this as a bedroom and put it on the ignore list.


    Andrea pushes me towards the bed, then takes a seat in the chair. On second glance, it¡¯s not really a bed. Sort of between a couch and a bed. What do they call those things that psychiatrists use in the movies? No idea. But it¡¯s one of those with the headrest oriented to point me away from the armchair. I make a note to look up the name of it later.


    ¡°So now you¡¯re my shrink?¡± I ask her, giving in and laying down on the couch bed thing.


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    She hums an affirmative.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s allowed. Plus what do you even know about psychology?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t bother to answer my question, but instead pops a picture of my mother in front of me along with a question mark.


    ¡°How do you even have that picture?¡±


    A cardboard box appears, along with a tiny copy of the family jet. I look back through my logs. Of course, I left my whole box of mementos from my grandparents house on the plane. I sigh at the trove of embarrassing details that I can¡¯t remember that she probably pulled out of there.


    The picture of my mother and question mark blink insistently.


    ¡°Tell me about your mother, huh? I think I heard somewhere the Freudian stuff is all outdated now, but whatever.¡±


    Do I want to talk to her about feelings and all that? Will it even be useful with the way my brain is ruined?


    I sigh again. What harm could it do?


    ¡°If you¡¯ll give me weekends off of the exercise program, I¡¯ll do whatever you want in here once a week for an hour.¡±


    She pauses a moment, then hums a yes. I guess she¡¯s my therapist now.

 Fri 06/16 13:01:04 PDT

    Chuck and Marcus fill one of the wide screens on my desk, their weekly report fills the other.


    ¡°Well boss, let¡¯s get the bad news out of the way first,¡± Chuck says, his grumbling tone out of sorts from the affable way that my index says he usually talks. ¡°We couldn¡¯t get much out of the chip you sent us. The antenna on it and the way it was planted makes us think it¡¯s some kind of signal collector, but it doesn¡¯t have any storage hooked to it, so it¡¯s not like it was going to be able to record your comms with your bots or anything. We powered it up inside our RF shielded room and fuzzed it six ways from Sunday, but it doesn¡¯t seem to do much.¡±


    Marcus nods along as Chuck explains, then jumps in.


    ¡°Yes. It doesn¡¯t seem to matter what kind of signals we send to it, the response is always the same¡ªit just does what looks like some kind of wireless ping. It might only activate its real functions if it can get a signal to some kind of home station and back. The trouble is that the ping isn¡¯t anything standard, so you need whatever custom receiver knows how to talk to it. Chuck looked up one of our old buddies from back in our DARPA days. He said he can come take a look at it if we don¡¯t mind paying his consulting fee. He¡¯s not cheap, but he¡¯s about the best in the world for reverse engineering, so hopefully he¡¯ll be able to figure it out.¡±


    I glance at the consultancy figures in the report. It¡¯s a big enough number that it¡¯s going to hurt, but I think this is worth it. The more we know about Dorothy¡¯s operation, the better shot we have of protecting our tech.


    ¡°OK, go ahead and bring him in,¡± I tell them. ¡°If he¡¯s as good as you say, I¡¯d like to see what he can do.¡±


    ¡°On to the better news then,¡± Marcus says, his eyes blinking rapidly, ¡°For the security update, I think we¡¯re just about there. Our penetration testing group hasn¡¯t found a single new vulnerability in a week and we¡¯ve got fixes for all the vulnerabilities we found ready to ship in the next update.¡±


    ¡°Great, we¡¯ll take a look too and make sure we can¡¯t find any backdoors either,¡± I tell him. ¡°How are things going with the implementation on the water filter construction routines?¡±


    ¡°Moving along beautifully,¡± Chuck declares, getting back to his usual happy self. ¡°Your designs for those are fantastic, by the way. All the milestones are right on track, some of them even ahead of schedule. Those are going to be some sweet pieces of hardware once we¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°Nice, good job.¡±


    They both nod appreciatively.


    ¡°Anything else I should be aware of?¡± I ask.


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    ¡°Not on our end.¡± Chuck says. ¡°How did the catamarans do out on the open ocean?¡±


    ¡°Very nicely,¡± I tell him. ¡°Fast, with a really smooth ride. That was good work.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it! We modelled it after the top end of the market and used their custom control boards.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, everything worked perfectly: autopilot, alerts, everything.¡± I don¡¯t mention that the man overboard alarm worked. ¡°We¡¯re definitely going to use the bigger version on our Southeast Asia trip. Did you get the list of upgrade requests that Evan sent you? We¡¯re going to want a better kitchen and some default furniture built into the designs for those, at least.¡±


    ¡°Got the list and can do, boss.¡± Chuck replies. ¡°We¡¯ll just need a complete inventory of what you want to see magically appear in the boat kitchen after a build and we¡¯ll make it happen. As long as it¡¯s stuff that¡¯s already in the build libraries, that¡¯s pretty light lift. Anything else new that we should start planning for?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, if you could look at some ways to get the bots to work underwater that would be great.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, yeah, that¡¯s a tough nut to crack.¡± Chuck¡¯s smile gets a half-twist as his eyes look off to the side. ¡°We actually did some investigations on that a while back. The current hardware can actually work pretty well in freshwater, depending on the level of the dissolved electrolytes. But I¡¯m guessing that since your last project was on the Pacific, you want something that¡¯ll work in the ocean, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Or a very polluted river.¡±


    He scratches his bearded chin, but Marcus jumps in and answers. ¡°That kind of water is conductive enough that you really need big, high power antennas at either end of the connection and a really low frequency to get any kind of radio signaling across,¡± he explains. ¡°None of that is compatible with what we can do now with the bots.¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°You can just keep the cloud density really high and mesh across with bots basically touching each other. I know that¡¯s not ideal, and it¡¯s not how the default motion algorithms are set up, so it would take a lot of manual control,¡± he continues. ¡°We can try to look into acoustical signaling, using soundwaves instead of electromagnetic waves for the comms, but that¡¯s going to be complicated enough that we¡¯ll probably need to set the brain-in-a-box working on it. How high of a priority is it for you?¡±


    ¡°Not critical,¡± I tell him ¡°But it would be helpful. There¡¯s still a lot of work to do that¡¯s going to be out on the water.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll get it on the docket then,¡± Chuck says. ¡°If that¡¯s all, then we¡¯ll talk to you next week.¡±


    I give him a nod. ¡°Thanks, guys.¡±


    I close down the chat, skim through their software development report, and commit its contents to my index. Time to turn back to the Mekong plans. We still need to figure out all the press events and lodging logistics in the major cities. For the rest of the trip, we¡¯ll live in the catamarans. We¡¯ve got guides set up and there are plenty of places they can get food as we go. We¡¯ll have to disassemble and rebuild the boats at the big dams, but that shouldn¡¯t be bad. Things are coming together really well, but I still can¡¯t believe how much work goes into making a trip like this happen.


    I push my chair back from the desk, spin it around, and look at the ceiling. I let myself think of a pair of beautiful dark eyes and a kiss.


    Maybe I can figure out some way to see her again while we¡¯re in China.

 Mon 06/19 10:00:13 PDT

    ¡°I hereby call this meeting of the top class siblings to order,¡± Marc announces, taking his duties as chair for the week very seriously. He bangs the gavel on the little wooden block. I don¡¯t know where he got those, but he seems to really like them. Marc does a good job running these meetings, even if he¡¯s a little over the top on the formalities. I¡¯m not bad as chairperson either, but I prefer not having to do it if I don¡¯t have to. Louise is inconsistent. She can be almost as combative as Chad when she gets riled up, or so disinterested that she does the bare minimum and calls it done. Andrea always declines chair duties, though I bet she¡¯d do fine if she tried. I¡¯d rather have Evan running these meetings every week, since we always seem to get more actual work done when he¡¯s in charge, but we all agreed to the rotation and I¡¯m not going to rock the boat.


    I¡¯m mostly just glad that Chad isn¡¯t running the meeting this week. Last time he was in charge, the meeting took twice as long as normal and we got almost nothing done. He keeps arguing with the majority about settled stuff like shutting down the breeding program. I mostly like Chad these days, but his zealous discipleship to everything that Father believed drives me nuts sometimes.


    ¡°How¡¯s the audio and video quality, Chad?¡± Marc asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± comes his voice from the screen on the wall after a second of delay. ¡°I can hear and see you fine. The internet at this hotel has been solid since I got this town on reliable power last week.¡±


    ¡°Great, and good work,¡± Marc says. ¡°Did you get my agenda?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve got it in front of me.¡±


    ¡°Good, then let¡¯s get started.¡± It¡¯s fun to watch Marc act all grown up. He¡¯s really thrived on the responsibility we gave him. His mouth still streams without a filter most of the time, but he¡¯s way more mature than the way my log describes him when I first met him. He acts less like an annoying little kid now, and more like a regular person with some oversharing issues. Progress.


    ¡°First item on the agenda, the activity reports,¡± Marc says, his tone serious. ¡°Chad, want to start?¡±


    "Yeah. I put up twenty-two desalinators and solar fields to support them in coastal communities since our last meeting. Solar rigs and filtered wells for another thirty-five rural villages in Tanzania and Congo. When we¡¯re done with this meeting, I¡¯m starting on a solar and battery installation that will support half a dozen medium-sized cities using the wires for their existing power grid. Lucie will send out a full report tomorrow."


    That seems like a lot, so I do a quick comparison to previous weeks. He''s picking up the pace. I¡¯ll give him credit, Chad works as hard as anyone I¡¯ve ever met.


    "I''ll go next," Louise declares. "I finished the initial calibrations for the implants for all of the Geologists, and they''re all set up with training-wheels bots. We also cured cancer for a Chinese VIP, which should smooth the road for the Mekong trip."


    I¡¯m sitting next to her at the table, so she glances my way.


    ¡°The Pacific garbage patch platforms are continuing to grow as they suck up junk. They¡¯ve accumulated over twenty metric tons of plastics from the water so far, and the first couple are almost big enough to be commercially viable. If we can get buyers or renters soon, that should help with our financial situation which is still extremely tight. The build functions for the filters for the Mekong trip are in the implementation phase with the dev team, so I¡¯m getting questions from the coders about those most days. And I¡¯m still working through all the legal and logistics stuff for that trip."


    ¡°Great job, guys,¡± Chad says, and my sibs in the room nod in agreement. I look to my other side and Evan takes his turn.


    ¡°We finally replaced the last of the campus staff that left when Father died,¡± he says. He tactfully doesn¡¯t say that they left once the option to make ten million for having a Butler baby was gone, which definitely would have picked another Chad fight. ¡°Now I just need to replace a few that quit after we cut wages earlier this year. Two nannies and three other staff. I¡¯ve got a bunch of candidates that I¡¯m interviewing with Mrs. Hastings.¡±


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    ¡°And I¡¯m happy to tell you,¡± Marc says, ¡°that the new programs for the younger classes have been very successful. The soccer league was an especially big hit. I surveyed all the teaching staff and every single one reports improved performance and morale for the siblings they teach. With that in mind, I have more ideas I¡¯d like to see happen here.¡±


    Marc starts into the slide deck that lays out his plan for weekly social nights for the sibs fifteen and up. I can tell he¡¯s put a lot of work into it, with lists of all the high schools and junior colleges from Vegas to LA. He¡¯s already got tentative agreements from a bunch of them to bus in interested students to come do school dances, speed dating, and other activities with us.


    ¡°We all know what happens when you only have siblings to socialize with.¡± Marc says in his very best business-like voice, but then he breaks down to his trying-not-to-laugh voice. ¡°Andrea, you remember that time you and Chad decided to try kissing when we were fifteen.¡± Chad starts protesting through the screen, but Marc plows on. ¡°And Evan, you couldn¡¯t have forgotten how you and Louise totally made out when we were thirteen.¡±


    The shrieks of outrage and the giant shouting match that breaks out are hilarious. As far as I can tell, everyone had sworn everyone else to secrecy, but somehow everyone knew about both events anyway. I sit it out while they argue about it for a while. Finally, they all agree that both of those were isolated incidents prompted by watching too many teen dramas and that Marc has a good point. Of course he does. Only having your siblings for company as a teenager is crazy. For a genius, sometimes Father was a total idiot.


    ¡°I¡¯m on board,¡± I declare, ¡°but we need to keep the costs under control. We can provide the food and transportation out of the budget, but anything beyond that we need to make ourselves rather than purchase. Which doesn¡¯t limit us a whole lot given what¡¯s in the construction library.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Marc says.


    ¡°And nothing that could possibly result in pregnancy,¡± I stipulate. ¡°Do you have any idea how many millions we¡¯re still on the hook for over Father¡¯s lingering frozen sperm pregnancies? And most of the lawyers that did the contracts and NDAs for that stuff are gone now. So keep it PG-13.¡±


    The sibs in the room laugh, Chad doesn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± I tell them all. ¡°If we get sued for child support or sexual misconduct, the whole trust can be liable. There¡¯s no way we can make it to a sustainable state before the money runs out if things like that happen.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Louise says. ¡°We¡¯ll just put you on chaperone duty. You can see the whole campus all at once anyway.¡±


    I ponder for a moment. Yeah, that wouldn¡¯t be that hard, and it¡¯s not like I care about participating. I¡¯m not super interested in meeting new love interests right now. Lin¡¯s kiss still pinballs around my brain every morning when I read my log and remember it again.


    ¡°OK, but that means we have to cancel them when I¡¯m not here. Or get a set of substitutes once we can verify that I¡¯m not the only one who can feel the whole place at once.¡±


    We discuss it a little more, hashing out details, budget amounts, and rules. Eventually we vote on it and get unanimous approval.


    Done!¡± Marc says, banging the gavel for effect. ¡°Thank you, everyone. Evan, you¡¯re proposal is up next. You have the floor.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Marc,¡± Evan says, getting to his feet. ¡°I didn¡¯t prepare any slides, but my proposal is pretty simple so I don¡¯t think I need them. I want the records about our birth mothers to be made available. I want to know who my mother is.¡±


    The room goes quiet.


    ¡°No, absolutely not,¡± Chad¡¯s brash voice comes from the speaker. ¡°Father knew what he was doing. The last thing we need is to have new family ties distracting us from our mission and biasing our work toward individual needs at the expense of the whole of humanity.¡±


    This triggers an even bigger argument than the sibling kissing thing and spirals out to a whole bunch of unrelated topics. After hours of discussion, we finally get Chad to bend. We could have just outvoted him, but we all always try to find solutions everyone can get on board with. The compromise we finally reach is that we¡¯ll have access to the records wherever the mother hadn¡¯t requested them sealed, we¡¯ll have visiting hours once a week for calls or if mothers wanted to come by the campus, and we¡¯d only introduce the option once the kids turn sixteen.


    I manage to wedge in something I want into the deal: offering currently pregnant mothers a renegotiation on their contracts. They¡¯d keep the baby and get a monthly stipend to help support it, saving us a huge amount in the near term over the current lump sum agreements. We¡¯d get regular reports and discuss the children¡¯s suitability to join the family business when they reach their late teenage years. Kind of like what happened with me, but hopefully with a lower body count.


    Marc finally gavels the meeting closed. It is a satisfying sound. Maybe I¡¯ll use it when it¡¯s my turn to lead the meeting next month.

 Tue 06/20 08:12:53 PDT

    ¡°Shields up!¡± Marc yells.


    All the Geologists duck down and gray-brown shields surround them like eggshells. Stan is locked in first, followed closely by Phil, they¡¯re both paying close attention and rapidly responding. Jen and Becky straggle in last. It seems like it took them longer to put in the command than it should have. I guess that¡¯s the downside of getting started training this soon after installation. Marc looks like he¡¯s on it though. As they come out of their shells he gives them some extra attention. On the upside, with this much time to practice, they¡¯ll be great by the time we take them off campus.


    It¡¯s weird seeing the shields from the outside. I¡¯ve always been the one in the shell before.


    I feel Andrea¡¯s invisible hand on my back, gently pushing. My attention snaps back to my biological body a kilometer away back on campus. I sigh and push myself a little harder, picking up the pace. I¡¯m not as weak as I was when Andrea started working on me. The near atrophy my muscles were in from months of being a pure desk jockey has disappeared away under her training and I¡¯m probably in the best shape I¡¯ve ever been in. Even so, she still effortlessly laps me several times as we do our morning run.


    I let my attention wander back to Marc¡¯s training session out in the desert. He has them building all sorts of things. It¡¯s a much more diverse and fun training routine than Father had us on. Everyone is doing a good job creating various structures according to neat little guidelines that Marc is laying out. No, check that. The asphalt near where they are working buckles as an emergency shelter starts popping up in the middle of our private street leading out that way.


    Through my many eyes out in the desert, I can see that Marc has the Geologists building all sorts of things out there. It¡¯s a much more diverse and fun training routine than Father had my class doing. I notice the road from the campus to the freeway start to buckle and crack.


    ¡°Watch your build, Erik!¡± Marc yells.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he shouts back.


    My eyes focus on him and I see his hand twitching. He¡¯s clearly struggling with focusing his eyes and writing in the console at the same time. Basics like that should be under control from their simulator training before they get their implants at all. I create a task to remind me to talk to Marc about getting the next class on simulators earlier. We should also have them spend more time reading and writing while doing other things, that should help.


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    Between Marc, Phil, and Stan, they get the road flattened back out, though it¡¯ll probably get a pothole there the next time someone drives past the damaged section. I¡¯ll wait until they¡¯re done practicing to fix it properly. Andrea gives me another nudge to remind me not to slack off. I pick the pace back up.


    I turn my attention to the parts of me up in my office. I bang bots against my keyboard to jam in my credentials on my computer. I slide the mouse around and click a few times until Erik¡¯s progress report pops on the screen where some of my many eyes can read it. No wonder he¡¯s behind, he hasn¡¯t been using the training games at all. Most of the siblings with implants have liked those as a way to practice, but Erik tends to avoid conflict and competition. Maybe we should hide the score lists that seem to be motivators for the others when he trains.


    I hit the twelve kilometer mark and my legs are burning. I¡¯m not sure how much farther I can go, but Andrea¡¯s not relenting, so I keep moving. Every time I go past the dorms, I hope she¡¯ll let me go in, but that invisible hand keeps pushing every time I slow down. I¡¯d be tempted to just let myself collapse, but the field is dotted with my siblings making their way to and from breakfast and I feel like I need to maintain an image. Besides, if my sibs outside the campus walls can push themselves working on their new powers, I can push myself on this.


    The soft grass looks awfully inviting to just flop down on though.


    And there Andrea goes, running ahead to lap me again.


    I reach out to the well just over the wall that Steph and Lisa dug yesterday and pull some water. I stream a glistening arc across the desert and over the wall, filtering it en route to my mouth. I get a round of applause from Evan and Louise who are just coming out of the cafeteria, acknowledging the difficulty of the operation. I guess it would have been an unthinkably complicated sequence of actions not so many months ago, but it¡¯s so easy for me now. The bots are such a part of me that it¡¯s as natural as moving the hands that came with my body.


    The water helps, but my lungs are still on fire. We go another lap. I can¡¯t even see out of other eyes at this point. All my focus is on not falling down. Another lap. This time I see Andrea slow as she approaches the dorms. She turns toward the doors instead of starting another lap.


    Sweet relief. I hate running so much.

 Wed 06/21 16:44:11 PDT

    ¡°Thanks, Sheryl,¡± I tell her as we wrap up hammering out the details of the press event for Phnom Penh. I don¡¯t miss Father, but at this point I sure appreciate how he got all the press stuff handled so we could just focus on the work of saving the planet. Now we¡¯re fighting the uphill battle of not only continuing the work, but making sure the world knows that we can do it without him. The garbage patch work and Chad¡¯s efforts in Africa are a good start, but if we can nail the publicity on something as big as this Southeast Asia trip, we should be able to keep all the same doors open to us that Father would have had. On the other hand, if things don¡¯t go smoothly, or if we don¡¯t put a good face on it, we¡¯ll see those doors slam in our faces and saving the world will be so much harder.


    Sheryl heads back to her office and I¡¯m barely settled back into my desk when the familiar ding of an incoming message pulls my attention. I pop the message open as soon as I see who it¡¯s from.


    Dear Noah Kimball,


    It was very nice to meet you when I visited your home in America. I have now returned to my country but I wanted to write to you to practice my English. Would that be acceptable for you? My tutors will help me with my writing. I very much liked the talks we had at dinner and at the car when I left. Please write back if you would like to correspond with me.


    Thank you,


    Liu Mei Lin


    The memories rush back again, the soft touch of her kiss on my cheek at dinner and the slight parting of her lips as she kissed me by the car. She¡¯s clearly keeping it sanitized, but she enjoyed it as much as I did if I¡¯m reading this right. I¡¯m sure from what she¡¯s written that she has people screening her messages or looking over her shoulder. If I respond, I¡¯d better keep it formal. My fingers fly across the keyboard.


    Dear Miss Lui,


    I also had a very good time talking to you when you visited and would like to have more conversations like the ones we had here. I would be happy to correspond with you so that you can practice your English and perhaps we could become good friends. I hope that your health has improved since your trip. I don¡¯t know if your father told you, but several of my brothers and sisters and I were hoping to visit your country later this year. It would be very nice to see you again while we are there if we can.


    I look forward to hearing from you,


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Noah


    That should be safe enough, nothing that would get her in trouble. I send it out.


    I¡¯ve been meaning to look up what the deal was with Yang Song. Time to hit Father¡¯s intel repository. Not the regular one, the fancy one that has all the extra info from the military and intel services. Most of those feeds are cut off now, but he kept a copy of everything he ever got. I check Lin out first, just out of curiosity over what¡¯s in there about her. Not much, some basic biographical info, a little bit about her cancer. Hmm, she¡¯s older than me by a little more than a year, I thought she was younger.


    Oh my, I¡¯ve been seduced by an older woman.


    Her life looks pretty sheltered. The cancer kept her out of standard schooling for most of her life. Her mother died from the same thing, so they caught Lin''s early and have been slowly losing the fight against it ever since. It seems like she didn¡¯t have a lot of contact outside of family, doctors, and tutors. I wonder if I¡¯m one of the first real boys she¡¯s ever talked to.


    Yang Song¡¯s file is longer. One of the first recruits in the People¡¯s Liberation Army¡¯s first female special forces unit, she distinguished herself early on then served several years in their intel division under General Liu until he requested her as his daughter¡¯s bodyguard. She¡¯s been watching Lin almost her whole life. No wonder I got the protective aunt vibe from her. If I didn¡¯t have the bots, she could probably kill me with her bare hands without much effort. She probably would if she thought I was going to cause Lin any trouble.


    The inbox dings again and there¡¯s another message from Lin.


    Noah,


    Thank you for replying. I am feeling much better since my visit to your home. I¡¯m very excited to see you again. I will speak with my father and make sure that we are there to greet you and welcome you to my country. I am the only child in my family, what is it like to have so many brothers and sisters? Please tell me about yourself. I would like to know you better.


    Yours,


    Lin


    I hit the reply button and tell her about how I grew up as an only child and only found out about my siblings later in life. She answers almost immediately and tells me about her apartment in Beijing where she¡¯s writing from. I tell her about the home I grew up in. She writes about her favorite foods. I was expecting them to mostly be Chinese cuisine, but a lot of them are American. I write to her about the foods I tried in Africa. She¡¯s never had most of those, but wants to try them.


    We have a surprising amount in common. She¡¯s funny, smart, and wonderfully geeky. She¡¯s kind of obsessed with American books and movies, especially anything sci-fi. Her technical chops are impressive too, I think because she¡¯s had a lot of time to play around on computers because of her illness. As we write back and forth through the afternoon and into the evening, I find myself liking her more now than when she kissed me. Then the darkness inside me wonders exactly how much she would hate me if she knew what I really am. Who could ever want anything to do with a murdering bastard like me?


    No. That line of thinking doesn¡¯t do me any good. I¡¯m working on being a better man. Mom, if you¡¯re out there somewhere, please help me to stop hating myself.

 Thu 06/29 09:06:21 PDT

    Robert Maxwell steps into the conference room. He¡¯s already so much easier to work with than Mr. Smith ever was. He doesn¡¯t pull any of the stupid intimidation crap that his predecessor used to either. And he¡¯s come alone. The conference room feels almost empty with only him, Evan, and me here.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need any sidekicks?¡± I ask him.


    He shakes his head. A careful smile makes its way onto his dark brown face. ¡°Smith always liked to make a show of force. That¡¯s sometimes useful as a tactic, but often unnecessary. With anything internal, I usually don¡¯t feel the need.¡± With what I know we pay these guys per hour, I¡¯m grateful to have fewer lawyers getting paid for attending the meeting. ¡°Shall we get right down to business? I imagine you¡¯re anxious to get a second opinion on the Dorothy James situation.¡±


    Evan and I nod in unison.


    ¡°I have a proposal that I want to run by you,¡± he says, his face and vitals showing some tension. ¡°You may feel some resistance to it at first, but please, hear me out before you pass judgment.¡±


    I take a quick glance through Robert¡¯s index entry. Before he worked for us, he used to do mediation rather than litigation. I¡¯m guessing from his nervousness and background that he¡¯s about to propose something that¡¯s a win for all sides.


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I tell him. ¡°We¡¯ll at least listen.¡±


    ¡°I believe Edward Smith was right, at least in principle,¡± Robert explains. ¡°It will be very difficult to force them to stop using your technology if they are intent on using it internationally and for humanitarian purposes. The best we could hope for is to prevent them from using it in specific countries. We do have standing to sue for the theft of your intellectual property, but as Smith claimed, it would result in a lengthy and expensive legal battle that we might eventually win but would do little for you. It would be an expensive risk with limited rewards and possible public backlash against the Institute¡±


    From Evan: He¡¯s not off to a great start there.


    To Evan: Let¡¯s at least hear him out.


    ¡°Since they seem to be using the stolen technology for projects consistent with your overall goals,¡± he continues, ¡°I¡¯d propose that we license it to them. If we keep the rates reasonable, by which I mean comparable to what they would end up paying for legal expenses if we were to sue them, I believe that they would agree to it.¡±


    Evan almost says something, but stops himself.


    From Evan: Fine, but I already don¡¯t like the idea.


    ¡°This has several benefits,¡± Robert says, flicking on the projector and turning off the overhead light. Slides appear on the display with bullet points for the advantages of licensing. ¡°First, we would save the uncertainty and expense of the protracted legal battle, which at a conservative estimate would save you tens of millions of dollars in up-front legal costs and a great deal of your own time and energy over the next decade. Second, we would establish an ongoing revenue stream which could be built out as a business model for future licensing of the technology to other customers that you deem appropriate. Third, you could exercise some amount of control over how the technology is used, both in this case and for future potential licensees. Finally, we could establish a service infrastructure that will allow you to maintain effective dominance of the nanotechnology market even when your patents run out.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Evan protests. ¡°You want us to just let them keep using our bots? I thought you were going to come up with a way to stop them.¡±


    ¡°There are ways to slow their usage, and restrict it geographically,¡± Robert explains, ¡°but Smith¡¯s conclusion was fundamentally correct. Fully stopping their use of your technology is unlikely to be successful. I¡¯m sorry. This is the best solution we could come up with.¡±


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    I can feel Evan¡¯s pulse rising. He¡¯s getting agitated.


    To Evan: Stay cool, brother. I think he might be onto something here.


    From Evan: I don¡¯t like being robbed, Noah.


    To Evan: I know they stole from us, but if we can get more people doing the work that we want done, that¡¯s not a bad thing, right? And if we set up licensing and get them using our software, we might have a better shot at controlling our tech in the long term. It¡¯s like how everyone used to pirate music all the time, then when it got easy to listen to whatever you want by signing up for a service, that went way down.


    His pulse slows a bit; still elevated, but not rising anymore.


    From Evan: Maybe.


    Robert looks between Evan and me expectantly.


    ¡°Not agreeing to anything here, but what terms were you thinking you could get them to take?¡± I ask aloud.


    ¡°It would be a matter of negotiation,¡± Robert answers, flipping to another slide with charts addressing potential revenues. ¡°But I expect that you could get several million a year easily with no foreseeable end date. You might need to sweeten it with an agreement not to seek prosecution for criminal charges for industrial espionage given the personalities involved. If you were looking for additional income, you could probably get substantially more by licensing your control mechanism, the implant technology, which they don¡¯t seem to have been able to replicate. There is also significant revenue potential if you were willing to license your construction capabilities, which¡ªaccording to your report¡ªthey have duplicated in only a limited fashion.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re definitely not up for making the implants part of the package,¡± I say. ¡°But we could think about including the construction library for just the humanitarian stuff we can build. Let me get with the dev team and see if it¡¯s even possible to adapt those functions to a VR interface like the one they were using on their boat. Don¡¯t do anything with your idea for now. We¡¯d need to get the rest of the siblings on board before we start any of it. We¡¯ll get you an answer either way as soon as we can.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± he says, unfazed by our response. ¡°I¡¯ll send you all the estimates we¡¯ve put together. Keep in mind that it¡¯s all preliminary and subject to negotiation.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Robert.¡±


    He heads out. Evan sighs as the conference room door swings closed.


    ¡°I know. I don¡¯t like it either,¡± I tell him, ¡°but I don¡¯t know if we¡¯re going to do better than this. Think about it. If we can get them to use our software, we can put limits on what they can do. If we don¡¯t, they or someone else will eventually recreate what we have. They could even weaponize it, if they haven¡¯t already started on that yet. What Father did with his self-defense functions is just the tip of a very ugly iceberg compared to what someone could do with the bots.¡±


    That gets through. Nothing is more terrifying to someone raised with the Butler Institute¡¯s teachings than the idea of someone turning Father¡¯s world-saving technology to the dark side.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Evan says, slowly shaking his head. ¡°Give me some time to think it over.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I agree. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it some more too. If we¡¯re both feeling like we should do it in a couple of days, let¡¯s pitch it to Louise together. If we want to do this, we probably have to get the sibs on board one by one.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Evan nods. ¡°But that¡¯s enough boring stuff for this morning.¡±


    ¡°I wish. I have at least ten more boring things I need to handle before lunch.¡±


    ¡°Sucks to be you. But before you hole back up in your office, catch me up. What¡¯s up with you and your foreign exchange lady friend lately?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I ask, getting up.


    ¡°The smiles and the sighs, man. That¡¯s a girl getting into your head, and Lin¡¯s the only one outside the family that I¡¯ve ever seen you pay any real attention to. She called you, right?¡±


    I always forget how observant Evan is. How does he see so much using just those two human eyes most of the time?


    ¡°I wish. It¡¯s just been email so far,¡± I answer. ¡°But we¡¯re writing a lot. It¡¯s a little weird with the time difference, but I get a nice long letter from her when I wake up and she gets the same from me at the start of her day. During my afternoon and her morning, we bounce a bunch of messages back and forth. She¡¯s really cool. She¡¯s going to try to meet up with us when we get to China on the Mekong trip. If we can get into China¡±


    He smiles and chuckles.


    ¡°Good for you, man. Good for you.¡±

 Fri 06/30 13:02:02 PDT

    Marcus looks like his normal, nervous self today, but Chuck¡¯s cheerful demeanor is conspicuously absent. He¡¯s barely recognizable from my index¡¯s picture of him.


    ¡°You doing OK, Chuck?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Just tired, boss,¡± he replies. ¡±Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    He seems more than just tired, but I let it go at that. We have a lot to talk about today. I haven¡¯t sent them anything about licensing our tech to Dorothy James and her crew. I¡¯m sure Dorothy started work planting another spy as soon as we caught Mr. Smith, and I¡¯m still not certain that he was the only plant she had with us. Having anything about our plans having to do with her sitting around on the SynTech email servers seemed like a bad idea, so I waited to discuss it over this encrypted video call.


    ¡°OK,¡± I tell him. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve got something different for you this week.¡±


    ¡°Sure, what¡¯s up?¡± Chuck asks.


    I outline Robert¡¯s idea and what we would need to do on the development side. Marcus¡¯s face perks up with curiosity. Chuck¡¯s frown deepens as I talk. Maybe he takes Dorothy¡¯s intellectual property theft personally like Evan does, or maybe he¡¯s just in a bad mood today. Hard to tell without him in the room.


    ¡°Hmmm,¡± Marcus responds as he fidgets in his chair. ¡°I¡¯d need to dig into the code to be sure. It¡¯s been a little while since I looked at the base classes that connect the construction routines to the interface, but if I remember right, the two are not tightly coupled. If I remember right, the interface just sets the spatial parameters for the build, everything else is baked into the construction library code. We¡¯d need to write an abstraction layer for the VR headsets, but we¡¯d need a sample headset along with the software it uses to get a good estimate of the effort.¡±


    That doesn¡¯t sound all that bad. I thought it would be worse.


    ¡°Got any kind of ballpark for how long it would take?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t say without more details on their systems. That¡¯s the big unknown. If we have to reverse engineer, it¡¯ll be months at the least. If they provide code and API documentation, it could be quick: maybe just a few weeks, maybe months, depending on how clean their interface endpoints are.¡±


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    Good. Way better than I thought.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything with it yet. Let me see if I can even get my siblings on board for it.¡±


    He nods in acknowledgment.


    ¡°Hey Chuck, how did things go figuring out those chips? The ones that Dorothy had planted on our boats? Did your DARPA pal have any insight?¡±


    He sighs. It¡¯s getting harder and harder for me to read people without the extra insights my bots give me by measuring their biometrics, but if I had to guess, this might be what¡¯s got him so down today.


    ¡°We worked on that thing all week and didn¡¯t get a damn thing out of it. Yesterday was the last day he could devote to it and he and I, along with half a dozen of the junior engineers, pulled an all-nighter last night. X-ray and other EM imaging didn¡¯t work, the interconnects in the damn chip changed on exposure to various wavelengths, so we ended up taking one of them and chemically stripping it layer by layer to see the interconnects. At the end, we got a fat load of nothing. Whoever designed it loaded with countermeasures against every kind of reverse engineering technique. We ended up wrecking all but one of the samples that you gave us. I¡¯m at the end of my rope with it.¡±


    I guess that¡¯s why he¡¯s grumpy today.


    ¡°Do we have any more options?¡± I ask. ¡°I really want to know what she was trying to plant on us.¡±


    ¡°We can send the images and data we gathered to the brain-in-a-box. Can¡¯t send the chip itself, of course, since it¡¯s got a transmitter on it, but the brain might be able to brute force its way through the designs if we feed in the images of it that we captured.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I reply. An index entry pops, reminding me that connecting anything that could transmit to a learning AI system is the cardinal sin against the Butler Treaty laws. ¡°Let¡¯s try that then.¡±


    ¡°We did have some success with the counterfeit bots that you sent us,¡± Chuck continues, his face finally showing a glimmer of his normal happiness. ¡°Their hardware is literally identical to one of our versions from a few years back. Looks like they completely replaced the firmware load. They probably couldn¡¯t get it to work without the implant interface. The new load does most of the basics of ours, but much less efficiently. Their construction feature equivalent is primitive garbage, ours blows it out of the water.¡±


    ¡°Good to know. Good job.¡±


    That¡¯s great news. It should play right into the plans to license our software to them if I can get the sibs on board. If not, it means they¡¯re not serious competition at this point.


    ¡°Thanks, boss. Are you ready to talk about water filters? The devs are kicking ass and taking names on that one.¡±

 Sat 07/15 09:17:09 PDT

    Lin¡¯s email this morning is different from her usual ones. A lot of the formality that she¡¯s included in most of her messages over the last few weeks is gone from it. I wonder if something shifted on her side, maybe she¡¯s not getting them proofread anymore or something. I write back and along with the usual interchange I ask her if her tutors are still helping her with her messages.


    The phone on my desk beeps, pulling me out of my thoughts about Lin and back to my present reality. I hit the button to answer.


    ¡°The call that your brother Chad requested with you is ready to go, sir,¡± Alan voice says.


    ¡°Thanks, Alan. Put him on.¡±


    A beep and then I get a connection with some heavy white noise in the background.


    ¡°Noah?¡± The voice is barely audible.


    ¡°Hey Chad, what¡¯s up?¡± I reply. ¡°We missed you at the last couple of sibling meetings. Are you flying right now? I hear a lot of air flow.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Chad comes in faintly, ¡°Can you hear me? Hold on, let me tighten up the helmet here, sorry. I had to do some fiddling with the default flight suit to get the sat phone to fit inside it so I can talk and fly.¡±


    The satellite phone doesn¡¯t have great audio under the best conditions, and Chad¡¯s never been great at modding the default software. I wait while the white noise fades a little.


    ¡°Is this better?¡± his voice comes in more clearly.


    ¡°Yeah, I can hear you now.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He sounds upbeat. Cheerful, even. ¡°Sorry I¡¯ve been out of touch, it¡¯s been crazy busy here. I had an hour of travel time back to my current home base tonight, so I thought I¡¯d check in with you. I was looking at your prep for the Mekong trip. Great job, Noah! It all looks like it¡¯s going to work, but I need one thing from you.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I tell him, ¡°just say what.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need my own boat,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten used to having my own space, and it¡¯s just not going to work for me to share one with any of the sibs.¡±


    I glance at the half-dozen documents and spreadsheets spattered across my monitors. I feel a twinge of jealousy at the freedom and independence he¡¯s been enjoying. Not to mention that he gets to be the hero in the news and the public face of the Institute, even though I¡¯m the one running it.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°OK,¡± I tell him, trying to sound agreeable. ¡°That¡¯s not hard. I¡¯ll add one more catamaran control board to the inventory list.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± he says. ¡°Also, plan for two of my staffers to come along. Add food and supplies and whatever else for them. That shouldn¡¯t be a problem, right?¡±


    My computer does its incoming message ding. My irritation with Chad fades to the back of my mind. Lin¡¯s name pops up, which means she¡¯s up late tonight and her mind is on me. It¡¯s after midnight right now, her time. I want to read it now, but I also want to give it my full attention. I¡¯ll wait until I¡¯m done with Chad.


    ¡°Sure, that¡¯s fine,¡± I tell my brother absently. ¡°So two more boats instead of just one, then?¡±


    ¡°No, they can stay on mine,¡± he says. ¡°We¡¯ve been working together closely lately, and I¡¯m used to having them around.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. I check my index for anything else I was supposed to talk to him about. ¡°Oh, how did your birthday go?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely amazing, brother. Best birthday yet. Sorry again for missing the meetings. We¡¯ve just been so swamped over here. You know how it goes.¡±


    I wish I did, but I don¡¯t say that. Chad doesn¡¯t need to hear me complain about how hard it is to run everything. I know that he¡¯s working just as hard as I am, if not harder.


    ¡°Glad to hear it,¡± I say instead. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s it. Looking forward to seeing you all again. Tell everyone hi for me.¡±


    ¡°Will do, Chad. Later.¡±


    I hit the button to end the call. I turn back to my screen and finally get to give that message from Lin my full attention. It¡¯s from her, but it¡¯s a different email address than the one she¡¯s been using.


    Noah,


    I have finally convinced my tutors that I no longer need their help for these letters. I¡¯ve also set up this email connection through a virtual private network to prevent anyone from monitoring what I send and receive. So now I have a little more freedom to express myself. I really like you, Noah. I liked you when I met you, and I like you more now that I¡¯ve been able to get to know you through these letters. Do you have a girlfriend, Noah? Someone intimate in your life? I know that I should have asked before I kissed you, but it was such a special moment that I didn¡¯t want to let it go by.


    Noah, if you don¡¯t have a girlfriend, could I be yours? I know we won¡¯t be able to see each other very much now, but I think that will change. Since I¡¯ve gotten better, I¡¯m trying to convince my father to let me  go to university in United States. We have some connections to Stanford University I would start next spring. Your Institute is not so far from there. I would be close enough that I could come visit you on the weekends. Would you like that?


    Yours (hopefully),


    Lin


    Wow.


    Well, that¡¯s pretty cool. I¡¯ve never had a girlfriend before. At least not that I can remember, and I think I would have captured something like that in my log. Lin is so smart and awesome. And bonus points for demonstrating her geek cred by setting up a VPN and encrypting her messages to me. I start tapping the keys, writing her back to tell her that yes, I would very much like to be her boyfriend.


    Look Mom, I have a girlfriend now.

 Sat 07/15 18:03:15 PDT

    The bus is pulling up in front of the campus gates for the first of Marc¡¯s social nights. I send out my million silent and invisible fingers to do a quick scan for drugs and weapons as the kids from Durango and Silverado High Schools pile out through the doors. The community college contingent should arrive soon, they¡¯re the ones I¡¯m more worried about. Not that I expect anything major, but you never can be too careful. I don¡¯t find any weapons, but the fifth girl I check has a couple of marijuana joints in her purse, which I discreetly remove and destroy. I don¡¯t know what the interactions might be of mind-altering substances and our implant, and tonight is not the night to find out. One of the boys near the tail end of the group, a skinny guy with black hair and a bad haircut, has a larger bag of pills in his pocket. A quick analysis with my bots tells me that they¡¯re something in the MDMA family. There¡¯s way too much there for personal use, so I assume he plans to sell the ecstasy tonight, either to my sibs or the other visitors.


    I feel a little bad for the kid as I quietly dispose of the drugs as a fine powder in the gravel outside the gates. I¡¯ve got a pretty light touch, and he doesn¡¯t seem to notice at all as his pocket lightens. I¡¯m sure that bag of pills wasn¡¯t cheap, and based on how the guy is dressed, he doesn¡¯t have a lot of money to spare. I¡¯ll slip a couple of bills into his pocket once I figure out the wholesale value of what I destroyed. The last thing I need is some petty drug dealer getting shot by his supplier for failing to turn over his profits immediately after attending an event here. Besides, something about him makes me think he¡¯s not so different from friends that I must have once had but can¡¯t remember.


    The bus full of college freshmen and sophomores pulls up and I go through the same routine. None of them look like they were planning to deal tonight, and there¡¯s no other serious contraband.


    I turn to the screen on my desk to see if I can figure out the going rate for ecstasy in the Las Vegas area. Another message from Lin pops up. I read it while another chunk of my brain keeps tabs on the whole campus. Marc is herding nervous groups of siblings and visitors into the Residence foyer where the speed dating tables are set up. I form a few mics around the campus so I can listen for any trouble that I don¡¯t see first.


    Looks like a couple hundred should let our would-be drug dealer break somewhere near even. I slide a pair of bills from the petty cash supply in the locked drawer in Mrs. Hastings office with invisible hands and fold them tightly. I float them along the baseboards to where the guy is coming in through the Residence doors and slip them into his pocket where the bag had been. I give him a little poke there so he¡¯ll notice. He sticks his hand in his pocket, and I can feel him panic for a moment as he realizes the pills are gone. Then he pulls out the folded hundred-dollar bills and looks around in wonder. His pulse starts to go back to normal and he gets a little bit of a confused smile. I must have gone higher than what he paid. Oh well, no harm done. I¡¯d worry he might try it again, but Marc has enough schools in the rotation for these visits that he won¡¯t have another opportunity for almost a year.


    I finish writing back to Lin as Marc runs the speed dating event. A few of the sibs that are participating can¡¯t seem to handle socializing with new people and get all flustered. Charlotte and Wendy from the Roadbuilders class run out through the front doors, taking refuge in the common room in the dorms. Maybe they¡¯ll do better next time. Some of the rest act almost normal-ish. For the rest, this is good practice in dealing with regular human beings.


    The food arrives, stacks of pizzas from the best place that is willing to deliver this far out in the middle of nowhere. Everyone seems to get more comfortable and the sibs and visitors start mingling more naturally as they eat.


    I notice Phil from the Geologist class trying to slip off with a blonde girl with a very mature figure for her age. With his height and good looks, I¡¯m not surprised that he¡¯s the first to find a potential snogging partner. They¡¯re halfway down one of the hallways that leads to the guest bedrooms when I form a speaker right in front of the pair.


    ¡°Phil,¡± I announce, probably louder than necessary.


    He startles. The girl jumps a little.


    ¡°Phil,¡± I repeat, ¡°please head back to the public areas.¡±


    His vitals signal a lot of disappointment, hers mostly just show surprise. They turn back and rejoin the pizza party.


    The computer dings, Lin again. Since she got herself some privacy, we¡¯ve had the best talks. Well letters, I guess, but it feels like talks. She¡¯s got a lot of interesting opinions on which coding tools are the best. I honestly hadn¡¯t expected her to be such a techy, but coding was one of her only outlets for her creativity for years when she didn¡¯t have the strength to do more than sit at a keyboard. We¡¯ve been comparing notes all afternoon on software frameworks we like and hate.


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    Steph and one of the boys look like they¡¯re about to try the slip-away too. I let them get partway down one of the hallways before I post up a big, flashing, red X floating at eye level in front of them. When they see it, they turn back so fast that Steph¡¯s carefully styled giant afro gets lopsided.


    It¡¯s getting dark outside, which Marc takes as the cue to start the dance. Over the last couple of weeks, he¡¯s been picking my brains over the last couple of weeks on what my high school dances were like before I came here. I couldn¡¯t remember much, so I made up most of what I told him. It didn¡¯t matter, since he ended up rewatching every Hillside High episode that had a school dance and using those as his template anyway. Marc and the Geologists installed a large dance floor in the center of the grassy commons. I¡¯m not sure exactly what materials they used, but it looks good and has enough bounce that it makes a great dance floor.


    The sound system deployed on one end has my sister Lisa, our resident volunteer DJ, gets into position to work her turntables. I think she watched a few too many movies getting ready for this, but she looks as happy as I¡¯ve ever seen her there with her headphones on. She puts on something with a throbbing beat and rocks out at her station. The bass is intense enough that I can feel it with my body from my office. My thousand eyes see the colored lights spring up around the dance area, flashing and changing with the beat. The high school kids seem impressed as they watch my siblings working their magic.


    Some kids dance. A lot more just mingle around the dance floor. Charlotte and Wendy come back out from the dorms, drawn by the music and the lights. I¡¯m glad to see that there¡¯s a pretty good level of interaction between the Institute kids and the visitors. I was a little afraid that the school kids would just come and hang out with each other, but I guess Marc did a good job of finding kids that actually wanted to meet the famous Butler children. I make a note to congratulate him on how well he prepared all of this.


    The music slows to one of those songs where people just stand and hug on the dance floor. Evan and Valerie are the first ones out, his giant arms wrapping around her petite frame as they sway on the dance floor. I¡¯m sure hanging out with a bunch of high schoolers isn¡¯t exactly her idea of a good time, but she doesn¡¯t seem to mind taking any occasion to spend time with Evan. Phil and the curvacious girl he tried to sneak off with earlier join in the dance, as do Steph and her chosen boy. Louise approaches a pretty girl in a tight red dress like she¡¯s going to ask her to dance, but then suddenly veers off and hides in the Residence for a few minutes, breathing deeply and slowly. The dance floor fills up without her, and a bunch of couples are out there doing their thing. I smile, picturing myself and Lin joining in. I wish she were here.


    I nudge a few more couples that are trying to slip off back to the well-lit areas. I get a surprising amount of work done even with watching the campus and all the emails with Lin. I¡¯ve got most of the changes written up that I want made to the draft of the proposed licensing agreement that Robert put together. The Mekong trip details are almost all buttoned up, we just need to finish getting the filters working now.


    The last message from Lin was twenty minutes ago, which probably means that Yang Song or one of her tutors is with her now and she¡¯s done writing to me for the morning. I guess I can take a few minutes and go join the party. I get up and head outside where the early fall air is pleasantly cool. Evan and Valerie are standing near the edge of the dance area and I join them. Andrea is center stage with a dance and light show that has every visiting boy slack-jawed and drooling. She¡¯s gorgeous and talented by any standard, but the way she punctuates her movements with special effects from her bots makes her dance beyond amazing. Eventually the song ends and another slow one comes on, and Andrea has the tough decision of which of the dozen boys and four girls circling her to dance with. Evan and Valerie pair up again, and a lot of the group is out dancing now.


    I think one of the girls is trying to get my attention. She¡¯s looking at me and playing with her hair, and her vital signs practically scream attraction, but I¡¯m not interested. It¡¯s probably unfair to her. She¡¯s not bad looking, and she might be great, but I don¡¯t think anyone could compete with the image of Lin in my mind right now.


    Lisa switches the music back to something with a fierce beat and dozens more kids swarm the dance floor. Louise, recovered now from her panic attack, posts up in the center and does her own light show. She doesn¡¯t move her feet, just waves her arms. Geometric holograms that remind me of fractals inscribe themselves on the ground in purple light then lift off and spin, transforming into what look like anatomical diagrams of neurons pulsing and moving in three dimensions, then fading away in a shimmer of a hundred colors. It¡¯s a cool enough act that I¡¯m glad I came out to see it all with my physical eyes. Louise beams as she ducks out of the center of attention, and grins even bigger when the girl in the red dress approaches her for a dance.


    I see Marc over by Lisa¡¯s station and head his way.


    ¡°Good work, brother,¡± I say loudly so he can hear me over the music.


    ¡°Thanks!¡± he shouts. ¡°I think it¡¯s going really well. Any problems you¡¯ve seen?¡±


    My bots head off Michael as he saunters towards the dorms with a boy on one arm and a girl on the other. I¡¯ve got to give him credit for the ambitious attempt there.


    ¡°Nothing you need to worry about,¡± I assure Marc. ¡°You just enjoy the party.¡±

 Tue 07/18 09:17:09 PDT

    The Geologist class practices have really improved over the last few weeks. Marc orchestrates my sibs in building a small village complete with a couple of wells and a solar field just outside the campus walls as Andrea and I run our daily laps around them and the campus. I¡¯m still not as fast as Andrea, but even on these long runs, she can¡¯t lap me anymore.


    The tiny houses are popping up in neat rows, each one with a small kitchen and bathroom on the first floor and a small bedroom loft accessible by ladder on the second floor. They¡¯re perfect for a single person or a couple that doesn¡¯t mind close proximity. They¡¯re also stackable like blocks, with plumbing and electricity interconnects so you can turn them into apartment buildings just by building more. When we get around to it, they¡¯ll be a key part of the plan to solve the problem of affordable housing. They¡¯re not hooking up the plumbing today, so they won¡¯t be livable, just good practice for coordinating their builds along a layout pattern. Marc has mastered putting down layout lines, which finally gets his skills up to where Chad was when we went to Africa. Maybe he¡¯ll get proficient enough to upgrade out of the training wheels interface one day. I¡¯ll talk to Louise and Evan about it.


    Andrea turns into the dorms, which is weird. We can¡¯t be done yet. I¡¯m not pushing past the end of total exhaustion. Is she cutting it short today? No, it¡¯s the same number of laps as we¡¯ve been doing all week. Look Mom, I¡¯m tougher and faster than before. I give it one more lap, then head in, too. Even with that one last time around the campus, I¡¯m not totally winded as I hit the shower.


    Clean and dressed, I head back out. Practice is over and the Geologists have leveled all the structures they put up. I see Evan disappear into the cafeteria and hurry after him. I grab waffles and bacon and join him at the table with Louise.


    To Evan: Had enough time to decide on the licensing stuff?


    He gives me a nod and turns to our sister. ¡°Hey, Louise?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± she says between bites of omelette.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got something we want to run by you,¡± he says. I can tell he¡¯s still not thrilled, but at least he¡¯s come to terms with this being our best option. ¡°It¡¯s a solution to the Dorothy problem that the legal team came up with. I didn¡¯t like it at first, but I¡¯ve thought it through and I think it¡¯s the only good choice.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± she says with hesitance in her voice.


    He and I lay out the licensing proposal. I pull from my index and explain the risks, the benefits, the potential to keep some control, and the lack of better alternatives.


    ¡°So it¡¯s just the bots, right?¡± she asks. ¡°Not the implants?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I confirm. ¡°At least that¡¯s all we¡¯ve talked about. They¡¯ll probably want implants at some point, but for this license we were just planning to hook up our software to their existing VR control rigs.¡±


    ¡°OK, good,¡± she says, taking a moment to chew another bite of her eggs. ¡°The implant side is the most dangerous part, and I don¡¯t want the liability of being responsible for that on anyone outside of the family.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I agree. ¡°You on board for the rest of it?¡±


    She looks thoughtful as she chews a bite of her toast.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she says. ¡°I can¡¯t think of anything better, and if you and the legal guys don¡¯t think there¡¯s any other way to curtail the tech spreading, I think we should jump on this. You want me to make sure that Andrea is on board? I¡¯m pretty sure she won¡¯t take issue with it. She¡¯s told me before that she eventually wants to let other people have access to our bots anyway.¡±


    ¡°Wait, she told you that?¡± I ask.


    ¡°It was in an interpretive dance, but I got the message.¡±


    Evan and I both laugh.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s enough for a majority,¡± I say, ¡°but we should still see if we can get Marc and Chad on board too.¡±


    ¡°Not sure why you would even bother with Chad. You know he¡¯s going to say no,¡± Louise says. ¡°It¡¯s way off of Father¡¯s original plan.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know, but we¡¯ve got to at least try,¡± I tell her. ¡°Making big decisions like this without at least consulting everyone sets a bad precedent.¡±


    ¡°Sure, fine, whatever,¡± she says. I can tell she¡¯s sick of trying to accommodate Chad. I can¡¯t blame her.


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± I say with a smile. ¡°Now who wants to talk to Marc? We¡¯ll get him first, so we can face Chad as a united front.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± says Evan.


    ¡°Great, let us know how it goes.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing.¡±


    I pop the last bite of my waffle into my mouth and savor the sweet maple syrup for a moment before washing it down with the last of my milk. With a wave to Evan and Louise, I get up and head to the office. I have a ton of work to do, just like every day, but first thing first. I can¡¯t wait to read my morning Lin letter.

 Mon 07/24 10:29:07 PDT

    ¡°No. Absolutely not,¡± Chad declares from the speaker in the conference room wall. ¡°Not under any circumstances.¡±


    ¡°Chad,¡± Louise says as patiently and diplomatically as she can, ¡°it¡¯s not a question of whether they¡¯ll be using our bots or not. They already have them, they stole them years ago. They¡¯re already using them. It¡¯s only a question of whether we have any control over them, and whether we get anything out of it.¡±


    I don¡¯t envy her having to chair this sibling meeting. She¡¯s probably the best one to do it though. Chad¡¯s always had a grudging respect for her.


    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± Chad says. His angry face pixelates for a moment on the screen. ¡°We get robbed, and you all want to cut a deal with the robber to let her keep everything she stole? Am I the only one who cares about Father¡¯s legacy? This is outrageous!¡±


    ¡°If there was a better option, we would be talking about it now,¡± Evan says. ¡°I didn¡¯t like it either, but it¡¯s our only choice that does any good at all.¡±


    ¡°Of course there¡¯s a better option,¡± Chad shouts. ¡°We go take our shit back.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I ask, incredulous. ¡°You want to invade Brazil and find wherever they¡¯ve been developing the counterfeit bots? Then what? Tear the place down and hope that we don¡¯t miss a single bot? Pray the plans aren¡¯t also on some drive somewhere else?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need to take out all the bots,¡± Chad¡¯s tone is getting colder as his rage gets more calculating. ¡°We just need to take out all the people working on them. And the ones running the show and footing the bill.¡±


    I shake my head and several of the sibs in the conference room do the same. I¡¯ve been liking Chad more and more with him far away, but every now and then he has to remind me of what a dick he is.


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about starting a war against one of the richest and most powerful men in South America,¡± I say, looking at Antonio Campos¡¯s entry in my index. ¡°The guy lives in a walled compound ten times the size of ours and has a small private army. Are you planning to go in like some kind of commando.¡±


    ¡°If I have to, yes!¡± he declares with all the confidence in the world.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°You going to kill him?¡± I ask. ¡°And then kill Dorothy? How about all the folks in the VR headsets? They¡¯re just techs who wanted to do some good in the world. You going to kill them too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d only slag the headsets, the operators are just pawns,¡± he says. ¡°But Campos and Dorothy stole from the wrong family.¡±


    ¡°Chad,¡± Louise interjects, ¡±the defensive system is designed to keep you from getting assassinated. It doesn¡¯t make you invincible. You wouldn¡¯t make it anywhere near either of them.¡± She pauses for a moment. Chad doesn¡¯t start shouting at her, so maybe she¡¯s starting to get through to him. ¡°Even if you did kill them, the genie is out of the bottle. Once one person has made a copy and got a working proof-of-concept, you know others won¡¯t be far behind. People all over have been working on this since the Gray Goo Incident. There¡¯s too much potential in the technology. So unless you want to spend all of your time for the next couple of decades flying around killing everyone who gets their hands on nanobots and still failing, licensing the tech is the best option.¡±


    The phone goes silent for a moment, then Chad spouts off another heated tirade. Guess she wasn¡¯t getting through to him after all.


    To Evan, Louise: This is going about like we thought it would. We¡¯re going to just have to take the win by majority.


    From Louise: You¡¯re probably right, but give me a little longer to work on him.


    Louise methodically lays out the benefits, now including among them not having to kill anyone and not getting killed storming a Brazilian plutocrat¡¯s compound. Chad yells about it a few more times as she goes on. I glance around and check the vitals of my siblings in the room. His ranting isn¡¯t convincing to anyone on our end of the call. Even Marc is tuning him out and he tends to hang on Chad¡¯s every word even when he disagrees with him. After half an hour, Chad finally seems to finally realize that he¡¯s on the losing side of the argument.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± he says sullenly. ¡°Do what you want. It¡¯s on your heads when this all turns to shit. I want it formalized in a vote. I want to be on record for when we look back at making the worst decision since Father died.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Louise says. ¡°All in favor?¡±


    Everyone but Chad votes for it.


    ¡°And I¡¯ll put you down as opposed, Chad. The motion passes.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll get a meeting set up with Dorothy and Campos this week to discuss it. We still don¡¯t even know if we can get them on board, so it may all be a moot point.¡±


    ¡°I hope it is,¡± Chad says. ¡°You¡¯re selling out Father¡¯s dreams. Whatever. Goodbye. It¡¯s late and I¡¯ve got real work to do in the morning.¡±


    The call abruptly disconnects.


    ¡°Goodbye to you too, Chad,¡± Louise says to the blank screen. She grabs the gavel and clacks it down lightly. ¡°That¡¯s all for this meeting.¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Evan says, grabbing me before I can slink off to my office. ¡°Let¡¯s go get lunch.¡±

 Mon 08/07 15:34:50 PDT

    I hear the ding of an incoming message. It¡¯s from Lin, she must be up early today. I open the email eagerly, but where the normal wall of text usually is, there¡¯s just a link to click on instead. It¡¯s an IP address only, so I can¡¯t even tell where it would take me. I''m not an idiot who clicks random links, but I''m curious enough that I head to the supply room and grab a spare tablet. It''s fresh out of the box and hooked up to the guest wireless network, so even if Lin or someone using Lin''s account is sending something malicious, it shouldn''t be a problem. I¡¯ll just wipe the thing down to factory settings when I¡¯m done.


    I jam the address into the browser and feel a forgotten memory getting jostled free as the page loads. I know this site. It¡¯s an encrypted, anonymized video chat service that I used a few times back in my hacking days. I let my fingers tap impatiently on the desk while the page tells me to wait.


    Lin''s face suddenly appears, but it¡¯s much better than Lin''s face the last time I saw her. The sunken gauntness has been replaced by a healthy glow. Her cheeks and lips are fuller, and I can see just the top of where her shirt curves around her chest now. Her head is covered by a pink beanie, but I can see a little dark hair poking from under it.


    "Lin, you look great! I can barely recognize you!" I blurt out.


    I realize how badly she might take that just in time to not stop myself from saying it. Smooth, Noah. Very smooth. She takes it well though, giving me a shy smile


    "Noah!¡± she exclaims. ¡°It is good to see you!¡±


    Her English has gotten more fluid since she was here. The hesitation that she had with the few words she spoke in English are gone, and her accent is a lot easier to understand.


    ¡°I am quite glad that you got my message in time,¡± she continues. ¡°Yang Song is still out for her morning run, but we have about fifteen minutes. Quickly, take off your shirt!"


    I''m very confused, but also turned on, so I start undoing buttons with hands and bots. I''ve just got them all undone in when she starts making tittering noises.


    "I was joking, Noah!¡± she laughs. ¡°But it is good to know that I can get you to do that just by asking."


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    "I don''t suppose it would work if I asked you to do the same?" I ask with a sheepish smile.


    "Maybe later, when we have more time." She laughs again. "Is this a good time of day? I think I can do a call like this most days around this time, since no one else but Yang Song is up at this hour."


    Daily video calls? YES!


    "I can make it a good time,¡± I tell her, trying my best not to sound too eager. ¡°It''s so good to actually talk to you! How are you not getting busted for this?"


    "Busted?¡± She looks confused for a second. ¡°Oh, getting caught. Yes, it was a challenge. I couldn¡¯t get the bandwidth for a call through the internet filters using my email VPN, but my father¡¯s position gives him many privileges, including an unblocked, unmonitored internet connection. It took a long time, but I finally cracked the password to use that."


    "Smart and beautiful!¡± I declare. ¡°I knew there was a reason that I liked you."


    "I thought it was my very clever flirting when I was there with you."


    "That didn''t hurt either,¡± I admit. ¡°I¡¯m glad you spoke enough English to tell me how cute I am. It would have been way more awkward if you¡¯d had your translator say it. You''re sounding a lot more fluent now, by the way."


    She smiles again.


    "I told you in my letters, I''ve been working hard on it. It helps to have a strong motivation. And also that I finally think that I will be alive long enough to use it."


    "So did you talk to your father about Stanford? I love the idea of seeing you more often."


    "Yes,¡± she confirms. ¡°My father not only said yes, but he called in some favors and made sure I got admitted. He must know someone important there. I''m not even technically a secondary school graduate, since I have been privately tutored."


    "I¡¯m actually not sure if I¡¯m a graduate either,¡± I tell her. ¡°I don¡¯t know if the Butler Institute is accredited. But at this point, I think I''m going to skip college as well as high school. You could just become a full-time world saver like us if your academic career doesn''t work out."


    "Maybe,¡± she laughs. ¡°Let me try school first, though."


    "Sure,¡± I agree, ¡°but I''m claiming all your weekends right now."


    "They''re all yours, boyfriend." Her gorgeous eyes gleam happily.


    "I like the sound of that, girlfriend."


    I hear a tapping sound coming through the speakers.


    "I hear Yang Song coming in,¡± Lin says suddenly. ¡°We''ll talk more tomorrow. I''ll send you a link."


    She abruptly disconnects. I look down and realize I¡¯m still sitting here with my chest bare. I slowly button my shirt back up as I think of those eyes and that smile.


    Mom, I think she really likes me.

 Wed 08/16 11:03:13 PDT

    Dorothy James strides through the campus gates as if she thinks she somehow belongs here. Her perfectly coiffed hair seems to defy the hot desert wind, and her immaculate black pantsuit hasn¡¯t picked up a single speck of the dust that blows around her. I almost think she¡¯s got a cloud maintaining her appearance, but after a careful check it seems it¡¯s just her natural state to look better than everyone around her. The pair of burly dark-suited assistants or bodyguards or whatever that flank her aren¡¯t looking nearly as collected after their short walk from their very expensive looking car.


    She smiles with her overly white teeth as she sees me, Evan, and Louise standing by the pillars that line the front of the Residence. It took a while to set this meeting up, but the nervous twist in my stomach tells me that it wasn¡¯t long enough. I don¡¯t see Campos anywhere, he must be coming in a separate car.


    I hope this works.


    ¡°Louise? Is that you?¡± Dorothy calls as she gets nearer. I think she¡¯s going for a friendly tone, but it just sounds sickly sweet to me. I¡¯m tempted for an instant to consider Chad¡¯s solution. We could arrange an accident so very easily.


    ¡°Hello, Ms. James,¡± Louise answers coolly, pointedly not stepping forward to meet her.


    ¡°What a lovely young lady you¡¯ve become! And please, call me Dorothy! You¡¯ll have to forgive Antonio, he wasn¡¯t able to make it in person. But he¡¯s standing by for a video call whenever we¡¯re ready,¡± she says, indicating the large tablet she¡¯s holding in one hand. It¡¯s the latest SynTech model, looking brand new. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s supposed to be irony or flattery that she¡¯d come bearing our own company¡¯s tech. Or maybe it¡¯s just because it¡¯s the best tablet on the market for video conferences.


    That¡¯s not a great start that Campos isn¡¯t with her. I like to be able to check when the people I¡¯m dealing with are lying, and with a video call I don¡¯t have much besides blush reflexes and pupil dilation. I¡¯ll be almost down to standard human senses. Hopefully reading Dorothy will help, though she¡¯s the less important of the two of them.


    ¡°Welcome to our home,¡± I say as graciously as I can. I hope my voice doesn¡¯t betray that I¡¯m almost choking on the words. ¡°Please, come this way.¡±


    We lead her to the Residence and situate ourselves in one of the small meeting rooms there. I¡¯d normally do something like this in one of the Research Center conference rooms, but I don¡¯t want Dorothy anywhere near anything she could steal. It¡¯s bad enough that she insisted on having the meeting on Campus instead of on neutral territory, though if things go the way we planned she¡¯ll regret demanding that concession. I¡¯ve got my billion fingers checking aggressively to make sure that she hasn¡¯t already deployed another spying package. I haven¡¯t felt anything so far, but I¡¯ll still need to sweep the whole place thoroughly when we¡¯re done here.


    Dorothy sets up her tablet on a little folding stand on the table, and in a moment the smiling face of Antonio Campos appears on the screen.


    ¡°Good afternoon, my friends,¡± he says, his handsome face looking pleased. He gives us a friendly wave through the camera.


    ¡°Still morning here, Antonio,¡± Dorothy says in that same sickly sweet voice she¡¯s been using on us today.


    ¡°Ah, yes, of course,¡± he answers, his voice carrying a light Portuguese accent. ¡° Good morning then! You two young men, it is very nice to see you again. I don¡¯t see that beautiful young lady from the boat, but her sister there must be Miss Louise Butler. Dorothy tells me you were quite the precocious child when she last encountered you.¡±


    He¡¯s certainly making an effort to sound friendly, and he emanates an unmistakable charisma as he talks. Despite myself, I find myself wanting to like this guy.


    ¡°Mr. Campos, would you mind if we skip the pleasantries and get right down to business?¡±


    ¡°Certainly, Mr. Kimball,¡± his gaze gets an amused look to it. ¡°I¡¯m very interested in what you have to offer us.¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m glad you are open to this conversation. I think you¡¯ll find our offer very interesting. Let¡¯s start with the elephant in the room. I would like to make sure that you are aware that your nanotechnology is stolen,¡± I state matter-of-factly. ¡°Stolen from our family. I hope this isn¡¯t news to you, or you and Ms. James would need to have a long talk.¡±


    ¡°I do not know what you are talking about,¡± he says affably. I don¡¯t need to monitor his pulse to know that he¡¯s lying, but I wouldn¡¯t expect anything else from him at this point.


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t. You need plausible deniability. You are completely unaware that the hardware of your nanobots is exactly identical to version 1.4.6.0032 of our nanobots, patented by the SynTech corporation under US law and protected in Brazil under our reciprocal patent agreement,¡± I declare as I pull the details from my index. ¡°You definitely don¡¯t know that Mis James stole both plans and prototypes of our nanobots, and was fired from SynTech as a result. If you had known those things, it would have been terribly unethical for you to bring her in and use that stolen technology as the centerpiece of your campaign to rehabilitate your public image from an earth-destroying robber-baron to a philanthropist offering hope to a world that desperately needs it.¡±


    Campos looks ahead intently. His smile fades for a moment, then grows again.


    ¡°Mr. Kimball, you are a fascinating young man.¡± He leans forward. ¡°What is it that you want?¡±


    ¡°We want to help you, Mr. Campos. Your pirated implementation of our technology is sadly lacking, and potentially dangerous under its current developers. I don¡¯t know exactly what Ms. James promised you, but it¡¯s clear that she has failed to deliver anything near the potential of what she could have. The lack of any innovation in the hardware during the entire time she¡¯s had it should have been your first red flag. Compound that with a firmware load that¡¯s basically garbage and a control scheme that makes it nearly impossible to perform even the most basic of operations with any degree of accuracy, and I¡¯d say whatever you are paying Dorothy and her team to do the technical work, it¡¯s far too much.¡±


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    Campos is listening intently. Dorothy¡¯s vitals register surprise at what I¡¯m saying. I don¡¯t know what she expected to hear from us, but it wasn¡¯t this.


    ¡°Just look at what happened in the Pacific,¡± I continue. ¡°In the time it took your crew of sixty operators to build a single shoddy platform, three of us built over two dozen of them with a total cleaning capacity more than a hundred times that of yours. And our platforms are not just better for the environment, they¡¯re viable commercially. We just sold the first one this week at a price that more than covered all the expenses of our trip.¡±


    Dorothy¡¯s face is composed, but her pulse is racing, her blood pressure is spiking, and droplets of perspiration too small to see yet are starting to form on her scalp and forehead. She¡¯s gone from surprised to furious quickly.


    ¡°Antonio, you¡ª¡± she starts.


    ¡°In a moment, Ms. James,¡± Campos cuts her off sharply. He turns his attention back to us with an intrigued look on his face. ¡°I would like to hear what they have to say. Please, do go on.¡±


    ¡°As it stands, we have the means to bring civil and criminal suits against both you and Ms. James in both of our countries,¡± I continue. ¡°While you might be able to resist these lawsuits, and only she would probably ever see jail time, they would be expensive and time-consuming, and we would make sure that they devastate your attempt to remake your public image. I assume that an entry into politics is something you are considering in the next few years?¡±


    ¡°Actually, yes,¡± he says, surprise finally knocking the smug smile off of his face. ¡°I had only discussed that with my family. How did you know?¡±


    ¡°Why else would you put this much effort and expense into improving the public¡¯s perception of you? You¡¯re not a vain man. You¡¯re pragmatic.¡±


    ¡°I see you have done your homework very well,¡± he says, a more sincere smile settling onto his face. Good. We might be able to work with this guy.


    ¡°So, you¡¯ve got a couple of options at this point. You could spend the next several years hemorrhaging cash and fighting legal battles while the press of both of our countries paint you as a thief and a hypocrite. Or, you could take a look at the message that was sent directly to your private email a few minutes ago.¡±


    I give him a moment to check his mail and see his eyes scanning something on his screen.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find in that message a licensing agreement that I think will meet your goals much more effectively than your partnership with Ms. James. It gives you access to updated nanobot hardware and a completely new and substantially improved firmware load. It also provides for the software development work to get the new bots working with your existing VR headsets. Your operators will be able to accomplish ten to twenty times as much with half the training. All at a cost of less than what you¡¯d face in legal fees if you continue on your current course. And you won¡¯t need to throw away your money at whatever hacks Dorothy hired to pretend that they could do what we do. I don¡¯t know how much that saves you, but I assume it¡¯s at least as much as the license costs.¡±


    ¡°Very interesting, Mr. Kimball,¡± he says in a serious tone. His eyes are moving back and forth, he¡¯s doing more than just scanning the document now. ¡°I¡¯ll have my people take a look.¡±


    My own pulse increases. This is the dicey part.


    ¡°There¡¯s one condition though, Mr. Campos,¡± I tell him. Dorothy¡¯s eyes have become piercing daggers pointed right at me. I think she knows what¡¯s coming.


    ¡°And that is?¡±


    ¡°Dorothy James is out,¡± I declare. ¡°This is a very personal matter for us. We¡¯re not dealing with her or anyone who continues to associate with her. It would be a slap in the face to my Father¡¯s memory. If you want an opportunity to close this deal, and I assure you that you do, you need to fire her, and you need to do it right now.¡±


    He laughs. Dorothy is staying silent, but based on the tension in her jaw muscles, it¡¯s a tremendous effort. The alchemy of human emotion is rapidly transforming her surprise into seething rage. The two goons she brought loom behind her. Did she think that bringing some muscle along would intimidate us?


    ¡°This was not at all what I expected to hear today, my dear young man,¡± Campos says. ¡°But I am intrigued. Take twenty percent off the licensing fees for the first five years and you have a deal.¡±


    ¡°Antonio!¡± Dorothy exclaims.


    ¡°Ten percent for three years. And only if you promise me now that there will be no severance or any other compensation for Dorothy. Final offer.¡±


    He thinks about it for exactly 2.64 seconds.


    ¡°Done,¡± he declares with a smile.


    ¡°Antonio!¡± Dorothy screams.


    ¡°Ms. James,¡± he says calmly. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that your services will no longer be necessary. Thank you for introducing me to these very interesting young people. Noah, my lawyers will be in touch soon.¡±


    The call ends and the screen darkens.


    Dorothy flips out. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard a string of obscenities anything like what comes from her mouth. She¡¯s somewhere between a drill sergeant and a drunken sailor.. She¡¯s still swearing her head off at me when I wrap her gently in a blanket of bots and lift her up off the ground. One of her goons reaches for a shoulder holster. I grab his hand with a tendril of bots and bind the fingers together before it reaches its destination. He fumbles trying to draw his gun for a moment before giving up. The other one seems too stunned to do anything as Louise wraps both of their upper bodies in more binding cocoons.


    ¡°You might want to run now,¡± I say to the pair of them.


    They don¡¯t need to be told twice. They¡¯re halfway gone when I turn Dorothy sideways, toss the tablet on top of her, then levitate her through the door anand on out toward the front doors of the Residence. I learn a few new innovative combinations of curses as she continues her shrieking tirade. Nannies that are passing through the foyer with their charges as we go by have to reach down and cover their small ears. I form a dozen cameras and microphones to capture this from every angle as her screeching goes up by an octave and a couple dozen decibels. I float her all the way out to her car, dump her unceremoniously onto the dirt off to the side of the road, puncture all four of her tires, and close and lock the giant front gate that we almost never close.


    Her two minions are picking her up and trying to help her dust off her now-filthy outfit as I smile my way back to my office.


    I know it won¡¯t be enough to satisfy Chad, but it should at least help to get the family back on the same page. And it felt so very, very good.


    Look Mom, I solved it without murdering anyone. I¡¯m getting better.

 Mon 09/18 18:38:16 PDT

    The podium is in place. The chairs are set up, filling the foyer. We haven¡¯t put everyone in a room together like this since Father¡¯s funeral. After dinner, they¡¯ll all start to filter in. I review the presentation in my index for the dozenth time, cross-referencing hundreds of index entries I¡¯ve put together over the last few months, making sure I didn¡¯t leave out anything important. I don¡¯t know why I get nervous in front of the little sibs. Maybe I¡¯m afraid they¡¯ll all see through me somehow. They all seem to think that I¡¯m great, looking up at me with those little smiles, and I know how wrong they are.


    I form a large screen on the wall behind me and put the map of the Mekong basin up there. The nursery kids are finishing up their meal in the small dining room down the hall, the one for the kids that are too small for the seats and tables in the cafeteria. Out on the commons, the first few sibs just came out of the cafeteria doors and are headed this way. The kids that are three and under are optional for this presentation. I left it up to the nannies if they thought each one could sit and pay attention for half an hour.


    Little Nate comes down the hall with Nanny April holding his hand. They head for the front row. My index tells me Nate is about to turn four. He¡¯s cute as can be, with dark curly hair and dimpled cheeks. April is cute too, but more in a girl-next-door kind of way with her blonde hair in a pixie cut and her pleasant smile. Her picture in my index shows her with longer hair. She must have changed it lately. I capture her image and update her entry with her current look.


    ¡°Hi, Noah,¡± Nate says once he sits down next to April.


    ¡°Hey, Nate,¡± I greet him. ¡°You¡¯re getting so big these days. What are they feeding you?¡±


    ¡°Spaghetti!¡± he declares proudly, and I see from a red stain on his shirt that he did, in fact, have that for dinner tonight.


    April smiles and puts her arm around him. He snuggles into her and puts a hand on her lap that she covers with her other hand. Like most of the nannies, she seems to genuinely love the child in her care. I suspect most of the ones that didn¡¯t already left the Institute when they realized they¡¯d never get a chance to fulfill the set-for-life clause of their contracts by bearing a Butler child. April wasn¡¯t one of those. My index tells me that she seemed more relieved than anything when I told her that sex with an old man was now outside of her job duties, even if it meant that her pay would go down closer to market levels for a full-time caregiver.


    Emily, one of Nate¡¯s classmates, rushes in and takes the chair next to him, followed closely by Bobby and Jimmy. Their nannies hurry in behind them. Phil and Stan pop in through the front doors, talking excitedly as they claim seats near the back. The trickle turns into a flood, and soon the room is nearly full. I feel Marc in the cafeteria waving the last of the sibs still in there out towards the Residence. In a minute or two, everyone is ready.


    I take the podium.


    ¡°Welcome, everyone,¡± I announce, using my bots to give me some amplification. ¡°Is everyone ready to learn about our next big operation?¡±


    An affirmative cheer resonates through the room. I give my siblings the smile that I practiced, the one I wish I felt.


    ¡°In honor of our dear, departed Father, I need to ask: what is our mission?¡±


    Can I pull this off? Can I capture the magic that he once had? Can I make them all feel like he once made me feel? Like we¡¯re really going to save the world?


    ¡°Preserve life!¡± comes the booming reply from everyone. ¡°End suffering! Elevate humanity!¡±


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    I feel a giddy rush, they¡¯re feeling it.


    ¡°Good,¡± I declare, my smile feeling less fake now. ¡°You all still remember.¡±


    ¡°We say it every day, Noah!¡± shouts Nate.


    ¡°Of course you do,¡± I say, stepping around in front of the podium. ¡°And you should. It¡¯s important to remember.¡±


    The four-year-olds all give me big smiles as I step up near them.


    ¡°Now, brothers and sisters,¡± I say, right to Nate and Emily. ¡°One of the causes of suffering for millions of people is pollution. Especially pollution in rivers, since they provide water for drinking and growing food for a lot of people.¡±


    Nate and Emily and their classmates nod seriously, all of them doing their little best to show me they know how important this stuff is. I take a step back and take in the larger crowd. So many eyes staring right at me. Trusting me. I am such a fraud.


    No. I can do this. Help me, Mom.


    Andrea smiles encouragingly from the back. Marc and Louise look at me expectantly. Evan gives me a look that tells me I¡¯ve got this. He¡¯s right. I pop the next set of images onto the screen behind me.


    ¡°Our next project focuses on one of the longest and most important rivers in the world,¡± I continue, reciting the script from my overlay. ¡°It goes by many names as it flows through six different countries, such as the Lancang Jiang or the Mae Nam Kong, but we¡¯ll refer to it as the Mekong River. This river is essential to the people of Southeast Asia as a source of power, water, and food. It collects water from an area nearly 800,000 square kilometers and moves over a quintillion liters of water every year into the South China Sea.¡±


    That last line gets me some blank stares. Some of my sibs don¡¯t seem to even recognize that as a number. ¡°That¡¯s a billion billion of those big water bottles,¡± I explain. That seems to get through. I cycle in the next set of pictures of river scenes and waterfalls.


    ¡°The Mekong River is home to more species of large fish than any other river on earth, and those fish are an essential part of the food supply for tens of millions of people. For many, the fish from the river provide the only protein they have access to. Other than the Amazon river, it¡¯s the most biodiverse river on Earth, and it supports thousands of endangered species in the surrounding area.¡±


    I pause and let pictures of frogs, lizards, fish, and birds parade through the air behind me as I step back behind the podium.


    ¡°But the pollution levels are getting deadly. Millions of people every year are getting sick or dying from pollutants in the river. Despite the best efforts of some governments and diplomats, the dumping, dam construction, and other activities upstream have continued to have a devastating effect on those downstream. Sediment flow is blocked by dams, leaving the soil downstream depleted. Rice crop yields are falling in recent years despite improved farming techniques and technologies. Without our help, the region is doomed to hunger, deforestation, and conflict.¡±


    Pictures of black water and garbage piles along the river move into a tiled pattern across the wall behind me.


    ¡°So what will we do about it?¡± I ask rhetorically. ¡°We¡¯re sending our oldest two classes to take care of things. We¡¯ll be installing our special water filters along the length of the river and along all the significant tributaries that will remove pollutants from the river. We¡¯ll be providing tools to reduce pollution to the industrial sites upstream. We¡¯ll give them scrubbers, containment systems, and other technologies that will drastically reduce the flow of toxins into the river. We¡¯ll be working with dam operators to set up systems that will prevent and repair silt buildup. That¡¯s where too much mud and dirt build up on the upstream part of a dam.¡± I pop a diagram to illustrate the concept and feel gratified by the nods I get from my brothers and sisters.


    ¡°If we¡¯re successful, millions of lives will be saved, and tens of millions will have their health and lives improved. Together, we will¡ª¡±


    ¡°Preserve Life!¡± flashes on the screen, and all the kids shout it out followed by the obligatory ¡°End suffering! Elevate humanity!¡± which splash across the screen next.


    The kids go wild cheering. I love how excited even little Nate and Emily are getting over this stuff. I release my invisible microphone and let out a sigh of relief. We¡¯re doing this. They¡¯re all on board. They¡¯re supporting me and the rest of my class just like they did our Father.


    We take a little break and let the smaller kids get to bed. They¡¯d only get bored with the details in the next section. Evan is up next to tell us about the stops in Vietnam. Andrea is doing Cambodia afterwards. I¡¯m looking forward to that. I wonder if it¡¯ll be all pictures, or if one of her interpretive dances will be involved.

 Wed 09/20 07:28:21 PDT

    ¡°I found my mother,¡± Louise says excitedly as she cuts into her eggs, the rich yolk seeping out to surround her sausage links.


    ¡°Nice. Who is she?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yumi Nakamura. You¡¯re never going to guess what she does for a living.¡±


    ¡°Doctor?¡± I guess.


    ¡°Lawyer?¡± Evan ventures with his mouth full of waffles.


    ¡°Rich housewife!¡± Marc declares confidently.


    ¡°Doctor was closest,¡± Louise says. ¡°She teaches medicine at Johns Hopkins. Specializes in neuroscience! Can you believe it? I had actually already read some of her papers!¡±


    ¡°So have you talked to her yet?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Just emails so far,¡± she says, smearing jam on her toast. ¡°She¡¯s got a family and she¡¯s a little worried that having another daughter come out of nowhere might freak her kids out, so we¡¯re taking it slow. But she¡¯s super nice and really smart.¡±


    ¡°Of course she is,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯d have to be to produce you.¡±


    Louise smiles as she flips some hashbrowns in my direction with her fork. I catch them with my bots before they land and float them back down in a neat pile by her plate.


    ¡°Not kidding. You¡¯re super nice. One of my fifty nicest sisters, easily.¡±


    ¡°You bet I am,¡± Louise says without a hint of sarcasm. ¡°Now shut up and listen to my mom¡¯s story.¡±


    I make a zipping gesture across my mouth and she proceeds.


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    ¡°Her family came over as immigrants from Japan when she was seven, she and her four little brothers and their parents. They all worked in a sushi joint in Vegas run by her uncle. She grew up sweeping floors and studying hard. She had the grades and test scores to get into any school she wanted, but she couldn¡¯t get financial aid because she and her parents were undocumented. One of those visa overstay situations.¡±


    She pauses to drink some orange juice.


    ¡°But the fall after she graduated from high school, she saw the ad from the Butler Institute. One of the first batch of them. She applied and was accepted, and ten months later I was born. She paid for herself and all her brothers to go to Ivy League schools and had enough left over to hire some really good lawyers and get her whole family legal residence. It was her experiences while she stayed on campus¡ªwhich was just the brand new Residence back then¡ªthat inspired her career choice. Studying the brain has been her passion ever since. She set a new record as the youngest professor at the medical school.¡±


    ¡°Smart and nice!¡± I declare.


    ¡°Of course, just like me,¡± she says, flicking more hashbrowns my way.


    ¡°I¡¯ve still just got a name for my mother,¡± Evan says, his eyes downcast. ¡°The contact info in the file was a dead end, she hadn¡¯t lived there for fifteen years.¡±


    ¡°Mine is German,¡± Marc says. ¡°She¡¯s an environmental activist. We talk every few days. She¡¯s awesome.¡±


    ¡°Cool. How did I not know that yet?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You did know that,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve told you like six times. You keep pretending you don¡¯t know.¡±


    I laugh, pretending it was a joke. I guess I need to write down Marc¡¯s ramblings better. I usually just try to get the important things down. He laughs along.


    ¡°Like you¡¯d forget something like that,¡± Marc says. ¡°You¡¯re hilarious, Noah.¡±


    Louise rolls her eyes a little. She thinks that we should let more of the sibs know about my condition, but as long as I can fake humanity, I¡¯d rather not.


    ¡°Yeah, Noah¡¯s almost as funny as I am nice.¡±


    ¡°You want to use the legal team to track your mom down, Evan?¡± I ask, happy to change the subject.


    ¡°Yeah, can we?¡± he asks, his eyes getting a glimmer of hope.


    ¡°Of course we can.¡± I¡¯m a little surprised that he didn¡¯t think of that, but I guess I spend a lot more time with the lawyers and have a better idea of the scope of what they can do than he does. ¡°There¡¯s got to be some paper trail for her somewhere. We¡¯ll find her.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, brother,¡± he says. ¡°I hope so.¡±

 Mon 09/25 10:06:07 PDT

    Chad laughs when we show him the video again of Dorothy getting fired and thrown out. It¡¯s become a kind of ritual for our weekly meetings.


    ¡°I still vote no, but I appreciate your efforts more every time I watch that,¡± Chad says from the speaker.


    ¡°Duly noted,¡± I acknowledge. ¡°We gave it our best shot. The previous vote still stands.¡±


    ¡°I know, and you¡¯re all still wrong. This isn¡¯t what Father would have wanted,¡± he says, though the anger that used to permeate the argument for him doesn¡¯t show up in his tone. ¡°He probably would have appreciated your treatment of Dorothy, though. He hated her so much after he caught her stealing from him.¡±


    ¡°All right, then,¡± I say. ¡°On to logistics for the first leg of the Mekong trip. Chad, you¡¯ll arrive early, flying from Congo. The jet will take off and come get us once it drops you off. Does that still work for you, Chad?


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Great. We¡¯ll bring the control boards for the boats and the builds. The Vietnamese have given us permission to scavenge from a scrapyard near Ho Chi Minh City, so building the boats and growing our clouds should be easy there. Chad, can you get yourself some formalwear between now and then? We¡¯ll need to attend some fancy events along the way and let some local leaders have photo ops with us. It was the price of admission to some of these countries.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m on it,¡± he responds, nodding.


    ¡°Our rooms are already booked at the Reverie Saigon Hotel. Our guides have provided a recommendation for a good restaurant where we can meet up to have dinner.¡±


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    ¡°Works for me. Is at least one of the guides set to meet me at the airport?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Thao will meet you with a car, he¡¯s the most familiar with the area out of all six of them. He¡¯ll show you around town and get you whatever you need. I¡¯ll send you his number so you can coordinate with him.¡±


    ¡°Great, just get it to Keeya. She¡¯s handling all of that for me,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°Hey, have you and the dev team got the filters finished?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re into the live production trials stage. We¡¯ve seen a couple of minor kinks in the sequestration systems after they¡¯ve run for a few days in thick sludge, but we¡¯re working them out. We¡¯ll be done in time.¡±


    Chad nods approval.


    ¡°Marc,¡± I say, turning to address him. ¡°Is everyone from class two good to go for the trip? I¡¯ve seen Erik still struggling in your practices.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be OK. He¡¯s better now than I was when we went to Djibouti and he¡¯s still improving. The others are all at least as good as I am now.¡±


    I appreciate Marc¡¯s frank acknowledgement of his limitations. That¡¯s progress for him. I add another notch in his favor for upgrading him to the full capabilities of the implant at some point.


    ¡°I¡¯ll trust your judgment,¡± I tell him, and he nods in thanks. ¡°Last issue, I¡¯d like to move up and lengthen the simulator times for class three when we start them. I¡¯ve run through metrics with Marc and we both agree it would help. With what we¡¯ve seen with the Geologists, the biggest difficulty they all report is with basics like learning to type and deal with the console while performing other activities.¡±


    There are nods around the room and from Chad¡¯s screen.


    ¡°All in favor?¡± I call.


    I get agreement from everyone.


    ¡°Great,¡± I say. ¡°Any other business before we call it good?¡±


    No one responds. I slam down the gavel with a satisfying thunk.


    ¡°See you next time, Chad,¡±


    ¡°Until then,¡± he replies. His face disappears as he disconnects.

 Fri 12/01 14:36:11 PST

    Some rare desert snow is beginning to fall outside the window to my office. I turn from contemplating the swirling flakes when I hear the ding from my desk. I hurry over and sit down just in time to see Lin¡¯s face pop up on the screen for our last daily call before we head to Vietnam.


    ¡°Hey, cutie,¡± she says.


    ¡°Hey, beauty,¡± I reply. ¡°How are things in Beijing?¡±


    ¡°Same old,¡± she says, looking around her room. ¡°Are you all ready for your trip?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re heading out tomorrow. I¡¯m going to miss our calls. I won¡¯t have time or privacy for the next couple of weeks. Is everything all set for us to see you in China?¡±


    She smiles and makes a gesture like a cat pawing.


    ¡°Yes!¡± she says excitedly. ¡°Get over here quickly. I want to see you again!¡±


    ¡°Me too! I mean, I want to see you. I see me all the time.¡±


    She laughs, even though it wasn¡¯t very funny. I have a vague feeling that Mom used to do that.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the situation with your father?¡± I ask. ¡°Do I need to worry that he¡¯ll shoot me when we get there?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± she replies serenely. ¡°Why would he shoot my pen pal?¡±


    ¡°So he doesn¡¯t know? That we¡¯re more than just writing letters practicing your English?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± she says with her naughty smile. ¡°He would definitely kill you if he knew that. And I do mean kill you, not the hyperbole that he would be angry with you.¡±


    ¡°That protective, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He nearly lost me so many times from the illness that he is very, very protective now.¡± Her expression turns serious. ¡°Just don¡¯t say anything in front of him that would make him suspect. Don¡¯t say anything that would let Yang Song know either. She is the one that Father would use to kill you.¡±


    I glance at my file on her. Yeah, I could see how she would be the one to pull the trigger.


    ¡°Does he kill a lot of people like that?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Well, it hasn¡¯t really been an issue for my suitors. I was too ill for any courtship until recently.¡±


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    I like how the not-quite-normal terms like ¡°suitors¡± and ¡°courtship¡± that she uses sound coming from her, like she read them out of a book. Her American accent is so good lately that the odd word choices stand out more and more. Other than those, her English is nearly flawless now.


    ¡°But he has killed others?¡± I ask, curious. ¡°It¡¯s not a dealbreaker. My father did that kind of thing, too.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t seem phased by that.


    ¡°He does what he must for his occupation, and for his country,¡± she answers matter-of-factly. ¡°I don¡¯t judge whether he is a good man for doing that, but he is a powerful one. It is good for me that he is. It is the only way I could have met you.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± I smile. ¡°Now, please tell me that somewhere in wherever we¡¯re going to meet up, there are places where you and I can be alone for a few minutes.¡±


    Her sly smile returns and her eyes shine with excitement.


    ¡°I believe that we¡¯ll have several opportunities. The conference will be held at the estate of one of my father¡¯s friends. It is right along the river you¡¯ll be traveling on, so your family will have no excuse to say no. We went there once on holiday, years ago. It is very large and has some nice places we could hide for a few minutes if we can distract my father and Yang Song. We will just need to be careful with the security cameras.¡±


    The conference? I have to look back through my logs for a second to remember what she¡¯s talking about. The final condition we had to agree to in order to get permission to do the work we wanted to do in China was to be the keynote speakers at some high-end tech conference that they were hosting. I¡¯d never heard of the event before, so maybe it¡¯s a new thing, or just a really exclusive thing. In any case, it was something that was easy to agree to. We¡¯ll be doing a bunch of tech talks along the way anyway, so what was one more?


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can come up with something, ¡° I tell her. ¡°I¡¯m pretty resourceful.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are. Why do you think I put up with you? And spend every minute thinking about you?¡±


    My heart skips a beat. I think we¡¯ve got a very good relationship for a long-distance thing, but neither of us has said anything about love yet. I think that was as close as she¡¯s come so far.


    ¡°I thought it was my good looks,¡± I reply, trying to play it cool.


    ¡°No, only your resourcefulness. Your cuteness was entirely extra. Gravy? I think there is an idiom with gravy.¡±


    She reaches out of the camera¡¯s view and pulls a book of English phrases into the frame.


    ¡°Yeah, there is, but don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I tell her. ¡°It doesn¡¯t really fit well in this context.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she says, putting the book down. ¡°Now, I only have a few minutes left. Quickly, take off your shirt.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll take mine off once yours is off. You¡¯re not tricking me with that one again.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she laughs, toying with the top button of her blouse, ¡°if you insist¡­¡±


    She unbuttons it, then reaches down and undoes another. I reach for my own shirt¡¯s collar and start unbuttoning. I get a glimpse of Lin¡¯s cleavage and feel a rush of hormones. Her fingers work another button and another. My shirt is halfway off when I hear an all-to-familiar clacking sound coming through the call.


    No!


    ¡°Sorry, Yang Song is back,¡± Lin declares, laughing as she quickly buttons back up. ¡°I¡¯ll see you when you get here.¡±


    The video cuts off abruptly. I wait until my excitement dies down enough to walk without embarrassment, then head back to my dorm room to take a shower.

 Sat 12/02 04:52:41 PST

    Phil, Erik, Lisa, Becky, Steph, Jen and Stan are all lined up, shivering in the predawn air. I can¡¯t tell how much of it is giddiness from anticipation, and how much is the chill of the desert night air. Andrea and Evan are much calmer. I¡¯m proud of Louise, she seems to have really gotten her panic attacks under control. They used to get triggered every time she left the campus, but she¡¯s showing steady vitals as she waits. Valerie leans against Evan, one of his arms wrapped around her. From her face, you¡¯d never know she was nervous, but her pulse and blood pressure tell me that she is. Marc is pacing anxiously, his forehead wrinkled with worry.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± I tell him quietly. ¡°Mrs. Hastings can hold down the fort without us. The kids will all be fine.¡±


    His face relaxes a little. I guessed right.


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± he replies. ¡°I just haven¡¯t been away from them all since Father died. What if they need me? Walter is struggling with his coursework, Charlotte and Fiona couldn¡¯t get along if their lives depended on it, and Michael is wondering if he¡¯s been assigned the wrong gender. And that¡¯s just the issues with class three.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± I tell him, ¡°but Mrs. Hastings has been at this for a long time. She¡¯s got this. And you¡¯ll have the sat phone even when we¡¯re in the middle of nowhere. You can check on them every day if you want to.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he says, glancing back towards the campus. ¡°I¡¯m just nervous for them. I¡¯ll be OK.¡±


    The jet appears on the horizon from the west, right on schedule. We watch the slow descent in silence. Eventually it touches down. The ground crew starts checking things and loading luggage. I form a set of stairs up to the boarding door. I could have let them wheel over the regular stairs, but this is faster and I¡¯m as anxious as anyone to get on board. Cindy opens the door from the inside and the rush to get in begins. I head in last, right behind Marc, and let the stairs disperse behind me.


    ¡°Well, hello again, Marc,¡± Cindy says. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you in a dog¡¯s age. You still sweet as sugar?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± he replies, ¡°and you¡¯re still pretty as a blooming rose.¡±


    ¡°You are such a sweet talker! And you,¡± she says, sweeping her gaze across the Geologists getting their bags stowed. ¡°I haven¡¯t met y¡¯all yet. I¡¯m Cindy. I run the Butler family jet. I¡¯ll be taking care of everything you need while you¡¯re on board.¡±


    I make the introductions as everyone gets settled into their chairs. Evan and Louise help me to get everyone¡¯s bots shut down. With Valerie along, we fill all of the seats in the main cabin. We¡¯ll have to make other travel accommodations when class three is ready to do another one of these big group projects. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be able to afford another jet by then. Maybe we can lose the table and reconfigure the cabin with more chairs. I create a task to remind me to look into it later. Cindy runs through the safety spiel and we¡¯re on our way. With the flight time and the time zone difference, we should get there in the early afternoon tomorrow, local time. The time adjustment will be fun.


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    ¡°So what does everyone want?¡± Marc asks. ¡°Movie, games, cards, stories from our last trip, what?¡±


    After some argument, we settle on a movie to start with and a promise of games later. Then everyone argues over which movie for a while. I can¡¯t tell if the Geologists are more argumentative than we were, or if I just didn¡¯t record the arguments during the Africa trip. I¡¯ll have to ask Evan later. I wish I had our telepathy capability up now, but it¡¯s better to set a good example for the younger crew and keep our bots off during the flight. Somewhere around the time we hit our cruising altitude, they all settle on a comedy. I¡¯ve seen it, my index tells me I didn¡¯t love it, so I close my eyes and do some work, making sure all my notes are up to date with all my recent logs and adding some extra cross-references. It¡¯s easy to lose myself in my electronic brain. My memory is wrecked, but in lots of ways, the index can be better¡ªas long as I keep it current. Sometimes I just pop open random entries to see what I used to know and get surprised.


    ¡°Hey, Noah, you in for poker?¡± Marc asks, rousing me from my dive into my non-memory.


    ¡°Sure, yeah.¡±


    I glance around and notice that Evan and Valerie are absent from the cabin. They must be having some alone time in the back room. I instinctively reach out with fingers I don¡¯t have right now to check whether they locked the door, but since I don¡¯t have them, I can¡¯t without getting up and making it obvious. It¡¯s fine. Evan knows to keep his pants on, and last we talked about it, Valerie still wasn¡¯t making it easy for him to get them off.


    Marc dominates the game. Within an hour he owns all the jelly beans we¡¯re using as poker chips. Stan outlasts the rest of us by a good fifteen minutes, so I grab another deck of cards and get a game of gin rummy going on the other end of the table with everyone who¡¯s out of candy money. Andrea sits out from the games. She¡¯s been staring at her hands again, flexing those long, slender fingers, working on something.


    Another movie goes up on the screen. This one is better and I don¡¯t have any record of seeing it. Evan and Valerie come back sometime in the middle of it. They look too presentable to have been up to too much trouble.


    Lunch is good. Cindy makes a mean sandwich.


    I hit the bedroom and take a nap. Cindy wakes me after an hour like I asked her to. Back in the main cabin, the Geologists are talking about all the stuff they¡¯re excited for. They start asking me questions and I end up mostly dumping facts on them from my index for the next couple of hours.


    Another movie, action and adventure.


    Dinner. Fine, but not worth remembering.


    Erik fires up the game console and we take turns on a brawler. Andrea surprises me and pulls out the win for the ad-hoc tournament we set up. I didn¡¯t realize she was into these games, but her manual dexterity is incredible, so I shouldn¡¯t be surprised.


    If I sleep again now, and wake up in four hours, I should minimize the impact of the time change. Louise recently worked out a routine that stimulates the suprachiasmatic nucleus in a way that should induce sleep. I copied the technique when she told me about it, but haven¡¯t tried it yet. This seems like as good a time as any to give it a shot.


    SLEEPYTIME


    Oh, yeah. That works.

 Sun 12/03 13:17:04 ICT

    I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder.


    ¡°Noah, you asked me to wake you,¡± a voice says softly.


    I blink and my eyes start to focus. Why do I have so few eyes? I glance around. Right. I¡¯m on an airplane.


    ¡°Noah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m awake. Thanks, Cindy.¡±


    I hurry through my quick read and get my brain back together. That sleeping trick that Louise worked out was fantastic. I slept so well. It usually takes me a while to get down, but that knocked me right out. I might make that part of my regular routine. I hit the bathroom and drain my bladder, wash up, and quietly get back to my seat in the main cabin.


    Most of the sibs are asleep, as is Valerie. The rest are doing quiet activities. Jen has one of the old paperback books from the plane¡¯s bedroom, Lisa is nodding along to whatever is in her headphones, and Louise is reading something on her tablet. We¡¯ve got about an hour left on the flight, so it¡¯s almost time to go over the refresher for Vietnam with everyone. I consider asking Cindy for a snack, but my index reminds me that the street food where we¡¯re landing is supposed to be really good, so I hold out.


    The image of Lin slowly unbuttoning her shirt runs through my mind again, but it starts getting me riled up so I turn my mind to the project. Good old unsexy water filtration systems.


    A beeping comes from Evan¡¯s seat. He stirs and pokes his tablet to shut it off, but the noise was enough that most of my sleeping sibs start waking. He must have had the same idea that I did for adjusting to the new time zone. I give everyone a few minutes to hit the bathroom and get fully awake before I start briefing them.


    ¡°All right, everyone,¡± I say once everyone is back in their seats. ¡°Ready for our final refresher?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± says Phil. He tends to speak for their group more than any of the others. He¡¯s like a less obnoxious version of Chad in that way. Like if Chad actually had some real leadership skills and not just a bossy attitude. A chorus of affirmatives follows.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you all remember this from the briefings we did back on campus, so we¡¯ll go fast. Our press event isn¡¯t until tomorrow morning, which means that we¡¯ve got some tourist time in Ho Chi Minh City this afternoon. Remember to stay covered up, especially if you want to go see the pagodas. Shorts and sleeveless shirts can get you in trouble there. If you see something you want to buy, let the guides handle everything. Haggling is normal and they¡¯ll do it better than we can. Just let them know you want it and walk away, they¡¯ll get it for you and make sure it makes it to the hotel. Please don¡¯t go overboard. We¡¯ve got limited space on the boats and we don¡¯t have unlimited funds, but getting some clothes or souvenirs would be fine. Any questions so far?¡±


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    Everyone shakes their heads.


    ¡°Good. On to the Do¡¯s and Don¡¯ts. Don¡¯t mention the war. Don¡¯t talk about politics or religion. Don¡¯t point your feet at people or shrines when you sit down. Do bring your own toilet paper for most bathrooms. The guides have supplies, just make sure you get some before you go in. Do stay hydrated. Don¡¯t do anything that might embarrass you or anyone else. Don¡¯t use your bots unless you¡¯re in danger. Don¡¯t show off or make a spectacle of yourself. PDA is frowned on, so don¡¯t hug anyone. Evan, I¡¯m looking at you.¡±


    ¡°Talk to her, she¡¯s the one who can¡¯t keep her hands off of me,¡± he says defensively as he drops Valerie¡¯s hand that he¡¯d been holding.


    Everyone nods for the laundry list of dos and don¡¯ts. Hopefully everyone remembers everything. I¡¯m keeping my copy of the list up in the corner of my overlay so I don¡¯t forget any of it.


    ¡°Any questions?¡±


    Heads shake no.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be in groups of three with a guide for each group. We¡¯ll meet up with each other and with Chad for dinner tonight. Your guides will get you there on time if you¡¯ll let them. Does everyone have your buddies for today?¡±


    Erik, Lisa, and Steph point at each other. Phil, Jen, and Becky do the same. Stan, Marc, and Andrea group up, leaving me in a quartet with Evan, Valerie, and Louise. Perfect.


    ¡°Erik¡¯s group, you¡¯ll be with Bora. Phil¡¯s group, you have Simok. Andrea, you have Mai, and my group has Akara. Thao is already taking care of Chad. Our last guide¡¯s name is Mek, and she¡¯ll be getting our gear to the hotel, then staging our supplies at the docks. You all remember who¡¯s who from the pictures of each of them in the briefings?¡±


    More nods.


    ¡°Treat your guides right and they¡¯ll take good care of you. Have fun and stay safe today. We¡¯ll start work tomorrow.¡±


    Cindy pops in to announce that we¡¯re about to land and reminds us to buckle up. I feel the plane descending and look out the window to see the sprawling city below expanding from toys to real buildings. The wheels touch down and we get everyone¡¯s bots turned back on.


    To Evan: Do these kids argue a lot, or is it just me? Seems like it took them all day to pick a movie.


    From Evan: It¡¯s just you, we argued just as much last time.


    To Evan: OK, had to check, I didn¡¯t write it down. Also, please tell me you two didn''t do anything that could result in pregnancy.


    From Evan: No such luck, brother. Just some friendly smooching. Valerie still calls me jailbait if I try to get too handsy. I think she thinks it¡¯s funny. It¡¯s not.


    I smile and give him a consoling pat on the shoulder as we file towards the exit. The door opens and a warm blast of wet air rushes in.

 Sun 12/03 14:05:16 ICT

    The guides take us to where they have cars waiting for us. We wait until the other groups are off on their way before we get ready to go.


    ¡°So what you want to see first?¡± Akara asks. Her accent is fairly thick, but according to my index she speaks a dozen languages, so I¡¯m not surprised that she hasn¡¯t perfected the native inflections of each one.


    ¡°How about some food first?¡± I suggest. Gramps had great things to say about the food here in his emails, though he hadn¡¯t had a lot of it since he served here during the war. Evan, Valerie, and Louise all nod vigorously. ¡°What¡¯s the best thing to eat around here?¡±


    ¡°Street food is best,¡± she says. ¡°Ben Thanh Market, you will like it. Get in!¡±


    Akara takes the front seat so she can talk to the driver, the rest of us pile in the back of the minivan. We whiz through streets absolutely packed with scooters at a frantic pace while I grip one of the handles with white knuckles. I¡¯m pretty sure my bots would protect me if we crash, but I¡¯d rather not put it to a test. The driver knows his business though, and fifteen minutes later he drops us off in front of a big arch proclaiming Street Food Market in English. We pile out and he speeds on after Akara says something fast in Vietnamese.


    ¡°He be back when we need him,¡± she turns and tells us, speaking as fast in English as she had in Vietnamese. ¡°Let¡¯s go! Let¡¯s go!¡±


    She leads the way into the crowded Market, past rows of stalls full of everything you could ever want to eat. Evan and I get little pork sandwiches on rolls. They¡¯re super good, but I almost regret it when I see and smell the noodles that Louise and Valerie get.


    With our hunger sated, we check out the rest of the market. There¡¯s a huge enclosed area with hundreds of booths carrying everything: toys, fruits, jewelry, soap, pastries, purses, clothes, electronics, and a whole bunch of stuff that I can¡¯t even identify. Knicknacks, I guess I¡¯d call them. The noise and crowds and colors are just too much with my cloud senses blaring, so I pull my bots in close by me and tune the sensitivity way down. Better. I hear Louise doing some controlled breathing. She¡¯s getting so good at dealing with her panic attacks. I probably wouldn¡¯t have even noticed if I didn¡¯t know that crowds like this set her off more than anything.


    ¡°Watch your stuff,¡± Akara warns over the hubbub. ¡°Lots of thieves. Pick your pockets.¡±


    I spread my cloud out just big enough to cover our whole group. I¡¯ll know if anything gets swiped.


    ¡°Pick whatever you want,¡± Evan tells Valerie. ¡°It¡¯s on me.¡±


    She gives him a huge smile and takes him up on it. She and Louise pick out some clothes, long dresses in several styles. Hopefully what they find is somewhere near the right size, because there¡¯s no way we are going to be able to try anything on here. For each purchase, Akara makes us walk away before she starts haggling with the vendor.


    ¡°They overcharge you, they know you have money,¡± she explains. ¡°Me, they don¡¯t mess with.¡±


    I¡¯m not super worried about it. I run my implant¡¯s calculator on what she ended up paying and turn it into dollars. This stuff still would have been cheap at twice the price. But Akara seems to want to make sure we get good deals, and it¡¯s fun to watch her do her thing from down the narrow aisle. She¡¯s wildly animated, her thin arms gesticulating as she argues. By the time she¡¯s done with buying one thing, we have our next purchases decided on for her to haggle on next. We work our way down a few of the aisles that way. Evan and I get some cool robes which I¡¯ll probably never wear. Evan¡¯s sense of fashion is more adventurous than mine. But they seem cool right now as Akara is packing them up in a backpack that seems like it¡¯s almost as big as she is with all our new purchases in it.


    My cloud feels a hand reaching into Louise¡¯s purse in a particularly crowded aisle and I respond with a stiff electric shock. I hear something that sounds like a curse and see a young man gripping his hand as he abruptly changes direction. His fingers will tingle for a while, but he shouldn¡¯t have any permanent damage.


    ¡°You guys want to see the water puppet show?¡± Valerie asks as we get near the end of the row where the crowd dies down a little.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say, not sure what a water puppet show is. Whatever it is, I didn¡¯t index it.


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    ¡°Sounds good to me,¡± Louise replies.


    Evan is in, of course.


    Out on the street, the humidity is even more oppressive than in the shaded market. I¡¯m way too used to the dry desert air of the campus. I start thinking of ways to set up some localized air conditioning with my bots when Akara gets us coconuts with straws from a street vendor and we suck down the cool juice inside. I guess I can just get used to the climate. That¡¯s probably better since we¡¯re going to be here for a while. The theater is just a short walk away and Akara says if we hurry we can get there in time for the next show.


    ¡°My grandmother used to tell me about these shows,¡± Valerie says. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to see one.¡±


    ¡°So are you Vietnamese?¡± I ask. My index reminds me that I¡¯ve been curious about her heritage for a while now.


    ¡°Only an eighth,¡± she answers. ¡°Grandma was one of the war babies. The bui doi. Though I think they mostly just called them that in America.¡±


    A memory tugs loose. Mom took me to see Miss Saigon. It wasn¡¯t all that long before she died. They sang about the bui doi. After the show we talked about war and what it does to people. I drop out of the conversation for a little while as I focus on indexing the memory. By the time I¡¯m paying full attention again, we¡¯re at the theater.


    The show is a little different from anything I¡¯ve ever seen. Instead of a stage, there¡¯s a pool of murky water with an ornate palace set behind it. Without feeling around with my bots, it would have seemed like the dragon, farmer, and dancer puppets moved like magic on top of the water. I do reach around though, and see the puppeteers hidden behind a screen with their hands submerged. I guess they have sticks or strings or something under there that lets them drive the puppets, but the murky water keeps it all hidden from the audience and from me. The orchestra plays off to the side and I¡¯m sure the story is great, but I don¡¯t understand any of it. It¡¯s fun to watch anyway.


    ¡°Something religious next? A pagoda?¡± Louise requests as the show ends and the audience starts clearing out.


    ¡°Jade Emperor Pagoda,¡± Akara declares. ¡°Best in the city.¡±


    When we get to the street, our van is waiting for us like magic. Akara is as good at this as Alan promised she would be. It¡¯s not a long drive, we¡¯re there in just a few white-knuckled minutes. So many scooters.


    The Taoist temple is beautiful. The red and yellow robed monks show us around and Akara translates the history and what each of the statues is for. I mostly like the turtle pond. We take a few minutes and just watch them languidly swim around as the sun sets. Outside the temple, a cart is selling yellowish drinks, squeezing small limey fruits and stalks of what look like a cross between asparagus and bamboo.


    ¡°Sugar cane juice,¡± Akara says, seeing me eyeing the wares. ¡°You want?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s try it,¡± Louise replies.


    The drinks are sweet, cold, and refreshing, a nice contrast to the still hot evening air.


    ¡°Time for one more thing,¡± Akara announces. ¡°What you want?¡±


    ¡°What do you recommend?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°You want to see whole city?¡±


    ¡°Sure!¡± he says.


    We head back to the curb where the van awaits and take another harrowing ride that drops off in front of a skyscraper. Akara ushers us into an elevator that whisks us up forty-nine floors to the Saigon Skydeck. Floor-to-ceiling windows in every direction give us a fantastic view of the city below. The cars and buildings are like toys down there again. So very many scooters.


    ¡°See there,¡± Akara says, indicating one of the buildings with her open palm. ¡°That your hotel. Best in the city. You will like it.¡±


    Louise and I stroll around the curve of the windows and catch Evan as he starts to put his arm around Valerie.


    To Evan: Manners, man.


    He shrugs his reach into a stretch instead and puts his arm back down to his side.


    From Evan: Right, sorry. No touching in public in Vietnam.


    We spend a good while taking in the sights. Things are calm here. I turn the senses on my bots back up to full and let them spread out normally again.


    ¡°Come on, time to go,¡± Akara declares. ¡°Time to meet with others for dinner.¡±


    The restaurant is within walking distance, and the smells coming out of it are amazing. We run into Marc, Andrea, Stan, and Mai on the sidewalk just outside. I reach out and feel the rest of my siblings heading this way. They should be here in a few. We have a room reserved in the back of the restaurant for us. The hostess walks us back towards it.


    I feel Chad seated inside between two women. They must be his staffers that he brought, Keeya and Lucie. I¡¯m looking forward to meeting them after reading their reports for so long. They must be great if Chad thought that he needed them along. Then I notice that under the table, beneath the cloth where human eyes wouldn''t see, one of them has her hand on Chad¡¯s thigh. Way up on his thigh. And Chad has his hand on the other one¡¯s thigh. Way up on her thigh.


    Shit.


    The hostess opens the door. The facial recognition for my index pulls files on both women. I see their paperwork, their NDAs, and the fact that when Chad and Father hired them, they used the same contract that Father used to use for his staff on campus. The exact same contract, right down to the sexual consent forms and childbirth agreements. I never noticed that before.

 Sun 12/03 20:17:04 ICT

    ¡°Brothers! Sisters!¡± says Chad joyfully as he rises from his seat. ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you!¡±


    To Chad: What the hell, Chad! You¡¯re sleeping with your staff!


    ¡°Hey, Chad,¡± says Evan, rushing around the table and giving him a huge hug. The rest of the sibs move in for one too. Chad doesn¡¯t seem to care what I just sent him through the bot-to-bot message system.


    To Chad: You better not be trying to get them pregnant. We talked about this! We voted on this!


    I give him a look that he returns with a big smile.


    Message timed out, user Chad not found.


    Shit! He¡¯s not getting the messages. He doesn¡¯t have the update with the new software yet. We¡¯re supposed to do that tomorrow. I hate not remembering things. I also hate not being able to have a private conversation with him now. I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be productive to make it a group discussion right now in front of everyone.


    ¡°Noah,¡± Chad says, still smiling, ¡°bring it in here.¡±


    I go and give him a hug. I¡¯m furious with him, but he is my brother after all. Even if he is a dirty, slutty brother trying to undo all the financial work I¡¯ve been doing all year.


    ¡°You OK, man? You seem tense,¡± he says, releasing me.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it later,¡± I say quietly.


    He nods. I think he has a good idea of what I need to say.


    ¡°Now, why don¡¯t you introduce your employees to everyone?" I say more loudly, turning to his staffers. "Hey there. I''m Noah, the one who''s always thanking you for your thorough reports every week. It''s nice to finally meet you in person."


    They both smile and we shake hands.


    ¡°Of course, of course," Chad says. "Everyone, this is Lucie and Keeya.¡± He indicates the white woman with long brown hair at his left and the dark-skinned woman with curly hair cropped close to her head on his right. Both are extremely attractive and somewhere in their early twenties.


    A chorus of greetings comes from my siblings as Chad lists off their names.


    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you,¡± says Keeya. Her accent puts her from somewhere in Africa. A glance at her index entry tells me she¡¯s from Botswana.


    ¡°Hello, everyone,¡± Lucie says. ¡°Chad has told us so much about you. It¡¯s so nice to finally see you.¡± Her accent is funny. I check her entry. Born French, but educated in South Africa from her teenage years on up. I can hear the mix of French, British English, and Afrikaans now that I know to listen for it.


    I take a seat near the end of the long table, about as far from Chad as I can. I need to cool down before I talk to him or I¡¯m going to end up cursing him out in front of everyone. With weeks in close proximity ahead of us, that¡¯s not the way I want to start things. I guess it¡¯s just as well that my initial outburst didn¡¯t go through to him.


    We put ourselves in our guides¡¯ hands for ordering our meal. Dinner starts with a small bowl of rice noodles in a flavorful broth. Everyone is doing well with the chopsticks, which is good since it¡¯s bad manners to mishandle them. I guess the mandatory chopsticks training in the cafeteria back home worked. For me, it¡¯s easy. Mom and I used to get Chinese delivery once a week and she made me learn to use them a long time ago. Ooh, another memory. Into the index it goes.


    Dishes with rice and some kind of thinly sliced grilled meat and sliced vegetables come next. There¡¯s some kind of clear salty-sweet sauce on the meat and vegetables that I¡¯m really liking. Chad is the center of the conversation. Everyone has questions for him and things to say about the work he¡¯s been doing.


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    ¡°So there¡¯s this goat, right? A big mean old thing,¡± I hear Chad¡¯s loud voice across the din. Everyone quiets a little to hear the story because this already sounds funny. ¡°And it won¡¯t leave me alone while I¡¯m trying to get a well put in. I keep trying to get someone to take this goat away, but they just keep laughing every time it starts chewing on my pants. And I don¡¯t want to just push away the goat, because the chief was on the fence about letting me in to do the work anyway and it¡¯s his goat, and I can¡¯t afford to offend anyone, much less him. But I can¡¯t concentrate to line up the well shaft with the goat there. So I end up just flying up on top of this thatch hut, the one closest to the well, and it¡¯s super shaky and I keep thinking it¡¯s going to fall down under me, but it¡¯s better balancing up there than dealing with the goat.¡±


    Marc laughs so hard that the water he was drinking snorts out of his nose and he knocks over Andrea¡¯s glass. A small army of bots from me and several of my sibs rush over to contain and clean up the mess as the servers bring in the next set of dishes.


    ¡°So, everything is going fine until I finish building the well and everyone rushes out to see it working,¡± Chad continues. ¡°And of course since they¡¯re all pressing in, someone bumps against the hut, which was obviously terribly built because the whole thing collapses with me on top. I¡¯m fine, of course, the flight suit is practically instinct for me at that point, and all the people are OK because the hut fell the opposite direction, but that stupid goat was right in the path of it.  The hut lands on the goat! And it turns out it was the chief¡¯s house! So I¡¯m floating there above his wrecked house, with his dead goat, and I don¡¯t speak a word of the language. I thought he was going to try to kill me. But I get Keeya on speaker on my sat phone and she finally smooths it all out, but I have to build him a big new house, and send him, what was it? Three?¡±


    ¡°Five,¡± says Keeya, laughing. ¡°We had to send him five new goats.¡±


    I want to stay pissed at Chad, but I just can¡¯t when I¡¯m laughing this hard. The waiters announce the last course and bring in clay pots with fish filets in a thick sauce. I¡¯m not usually big on fish, but it¡¯s delicious.


    Chad''s staffers¡ªor are they his girlfriends? Lovers? I''m not at all sure what to call them even here in my head. Anyway, I can¡¯t help but like them. They¡¯re both just way too nice to not get along with. They seem to be making the same impression on my siblings, especially the guys. The meal winds down as we talk and laugh. Dessert is somewhere between a pudding and a soup in consistency, with rice and some fruits I don''t recognize in a sweet sauce. A little weird, but very good. My bots see Chad¡¯s hand on Keeya¡¯s thigh under the table again.


    To Evan: You picking up on what¡¯s going on with Chad?


    From Evan: With the girls?


    To Evan: What else? Of course with the girls.


    From Evan: Yeah, they seem really friendly with Chad. Like, really friendly.


    To Evan: I¡¯ve got their contracts in my head, but I never noticed it until now. They have the standard ten million dollar baby deal, but with Chad¡¯s name in there instead of Father.


    Evan pauses for a moment mid-chew.


    From Evan: Their contracts got set up before Father died?


    To Evan: Yeah. And they were never updated after we voted to make the change. Smith probably left them out on purpose. Maybe out of spite.


    From Evan: Shit.


    To Evan: Yeah.


    From Evan: Shit, shit, shit. That the same for all of his female staff?


    I search through my index.


    To Evan: He¡¯s got these two and four other women working for him. All with the NDA¡¯s and baby contract.


    He shakes his head.


    From Evan: Anything we can do about it?


    To Evan: We can offer them cancellations, but if they don¡¯t want it, we¡¯re on the hook. I can¡¯t imagine Chad didn¡¯t already preempt that though. This could crash the whole plan. We could run through all of the remaining liquid funds this year if Chad¡¯s got good swimmers, even with the new licensing money. We¡¯d have to sell the SynTech stock. Total disaster.


    ¡°You OK, Evan?¡± Valerie asks him, noticing the look on his face.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry, just thinking about something,¡± he says.


    Me too.


    Everyone is about done with their food, conversations are winding down, and it¡¯s getting late. I¡¯m the first one to stand, but as soon as I do, everyone else follows suit.


    ¡°All right everyone, don¡¯t forget that we¡¯ve got to meet the reporters in the morning,¡± I remind everyone as we file out of the room. ¡°Be up and presentable by 8:00 local time. 5th floor ballroom. Come a little early if you are up for extra interviews, and memorize those scripts Sheryl gave us!¡±


    We start the short walk to the hotel. My broken mind races through all the ways I could tell Chad that he¡¯s wrecking everything. I hope I can talk him out of it.

 Sun 12/03 23:43:28 ICT

    The hotel is fancy. No, not just fancy. Gaudy. Ostentatious. Lots of gold and swirling marble. But Alan and Sheryl were sure that this would be the best optics for the press event in the morning. It¡¯s not what I would have picked on my own, but I trust them.


    I catch up to Chad just before he gets on the elevator.


    ¡°Hey Chad, got a minute?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he says. Turning to his girlfriends¡ªyeah, I¡¯m just going to call them girlfriends¡ªhe tells them he¡¯ll be right up.


    The elevator door closes with them on the other side of it. I walk with Chad across the lobby over to what is probably the fanciest couch I¡¯ve ever seen and sit down. It¡¯s a private corner far from the desk and no one else is nearby.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± he says, acting now as if he has no idea what I¡¯m going to say.


    ¡°Chad, remember that time we voted to end Father¡¯s breeding program, and you voted against it, but the rest of all of us voted for it, so the breeding program was supposed to end?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Noah,¡± he says. His voice is calm but his vitals are showing disdain and contempt. ¡°I do remember that. It was a great example of how I seem to be the only one trying to continue Father¡¯s work and legacy. Thanks for reminding me about your bad decision-making skills. Was there anything else you needed?¡±


    He gives me his obnoxiously smug smile. There¡¯s the old Chad back, the one I always wanted to punch in his too-handsome face.


    ¡°Chad, I know what¡¯s in the contracts with your team. It doesn¡¯t take a genius to tell that you¡¯re sleeping with both of your staffers that you brought. Are you trying to break us financially? We don¡¯t have spare funds to cover any babies getting born.¡±


    He pulls himself up to his full height and steps close to me. He¡¯s grown since we were last together and has a couple of inches on me now.


    ¡°Noah, what I do with my team is not your concern. You took away the legal team support, so now I can¡¯t get new contracts done. Congratulations. But what was set up under Father¡¯s direction and with his specific approval is none of your business.¡±


    I had forgotten what a total dick Chad can be. I take a breath and force my fists to unclench.


    ¡°It¡¯s exactly my business, Chad,¡± I retort. ¡°What do you think I¡¯ve been doing while you¡¯ve been playing superhero in Africa? I¡¯ve been running the whole business side of the Butler Institute. Your birth contracts call for a ten million dollar payout. Exactly where do you think that money is going to come from?¡±


    He gives me a shocked stare.


    ¡°While I have been saving millions of lives in Africa, Noah, you¡¯ve been sitting comfortably at your desk. Maybe we should sell that desk if you¡¯re worried about money. Father left plenty of funds to continue operations, and what I¡¯m doing is exactly what he wanted us all to do. Maybe if you¡¯d get off your ass and start doing some real work, you¡¯d be able to see that.¡±


    His pulse rate is quickening and his blood pressure is rising. Microbeads of sweat are forming on his forehead. He¡¯s even more angry than his tone and words indicate, and he¡¯s got plenty of heat in his voice.


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, Chad,¡± I say, pushing down my anger. The last thing I need now is an open fight with him. ¡°He didn¡¯t have nearly as much money as you think. Not liquid assets anyway. Most of what he left us was in SynTech stock. Did you happen to see what happened in the financial markets when he died?¡±


    ¡°No, Noah.¡± His voice goes icy. ¡°I was a little preoccupied with mourning my father and saving the world. I didn¡¯t have a lot of time to sit and read the stock tickers.¡±


    I shake my head. I know he¡¯s not stupid. Just willfully ignorant.


    ¡°The company¡¯s stock price tanked, Chad. Even though he hadn¡¯t actively run the company in years, he was still chairman of the board and everyone still thought of him as the visionary behind it all.¡± I check my index for the SynTech stock price history. ¡°The stock price fell fifty percent the first day. It continued falling every day for the next two months before it started to stabilize. It still hasn¡¯t come close to recovering. Today, it¡¯s worth a tenth of what it was the day before he died.¡±


    ¡°So what? He had a ton in the bank too.¡±


    ¡°You were his right hand man,¡± I say, exasperated. ¡°How did you never dig into the financials?¡±


    ¡°Because I was focused on what he cared about!¡± he shouts. A small man behind the counter across the lobby looks our way and I turn my head to glance at him. Chad follows my gaze and lowers his voice. At least he has some sense of discretion. He lowers his voice but doesn¡¯t lose any of the venom in it. ¡°I worked on the Africa project with him before you ever met him. I knew him better than you ever could have. Don¡¯t you dare question me.¡±


    I step back and put up my hands, forcing myself to take a deep breath instead of engaging with him physically. He really is spoiling for a fight.


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    ¡°Chad, I¡¯m not questioning your love for Father or your commitment to his cause. I read all the reports, I know exactly what you¡¯ve done. I know that last week you dug 27 wells and put up 96 solar installations serving 9,423 people, and that was with cutting your week short to come out here. I¡¯ve seen the hours you work. I know how many lives you¡¯ve saved. I know that you are doing everything you can to honor his memory. I respect the hell out of you for it.¡±


    That seems to mollify him a little. I¡¯ve never told him about my index and he knows I don¡¯t have a photographic memory, or at least didn¡¯t when I arrived at the Institute, so citing the numbers seems to show him that I¡¯m following his activities closely. His pulse stops rising and levels out.


    ¡°But I¡¯m trying to tell you what our real situation is,¡± I continue, softening my voice and trying hard not to sound patronizing. ¡°Father didn¡¯t have a lot of liquid assets. Those surgeries he was always running off to do? That¡¯s what paid most of the operating budget for the Institute. Most of what he had left when he died went to paying out the mothers that were already pregnant, plus the whole group of frozen sperm babies that we didn¡¯t know about until it was too late.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡±


    ¡°He froze a bunch of sperm at some point. A bunch of women under contract knew about it and took advantage of it before I found out. Ten million a pop. There are still a bunch of sibs that haven¡¯t been born yet. Do you not read the reports every week? I put those together for a reason!¡±


    He looks away.


    ¡°We have to cover them all and that drained out most of what Father had left in the bank. The point is, I¡¯ve cut costs as deep as I can and still keep the Institute running the way he wanted it to, but there¡¯s not even enough cash left to get us to the end of next year. 53 weeks from now at our current spend rate. That¡¯s it. That¡¯s how long I have to get enough revenue set up to make us self-sustaining.¡±


    He nods slowly. He opens his mouth for a moment, but closes it without saying anything.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a plan to get it done, but it¡¯s going to be tight,¡± I continue. ¡°If you get more pregnancies started, that comes right out of the budget. The day your first child is born, I¡¯ll have to sell stock. We only own fifty point one percent of the company. If we sell a single share now, we lose control of the company¡¯s priorities. They¡¯ll start selling Father¡¯s tech to the highest bidder, which you know is probably going to be the military. Or all the militaries in the world. We don¡¯t know, because so far we¡¯ve been able to block them even looking into that. They¡¯ll pull our dev team to projects that make more money. You remember the big plan on Father¡¯s whiteboard? The one to save the world? Your having a baby during the next year means that plan fails.¡±


    He nods again. ¡°I take it we can¡¯t just quietly perform medical miracles for cash? Like he did?¡±


    ¡°No, making money Father¡¯s way isn¡¯t an option. Louise has done the cancer cure thing once, and that was on an otherwise healthy girl who didn¡¯t have any other real options. Older patients tend to have a lot more complications, and even if we wanted to try going down that path, I don¡¯t think his old clientele would trust someone without Father¡¯s reputation. Besides, none of us has the medical degree or the licensing he had, so trying to do it for profit would probably end in a disaster. We¡¯d get sued by the families of anyone who died within months of any procedure we did, whether it was our fault or not.¡±


    He nods again, leaning against one of the lobby¡¯s fancy pillars. His anger is finally fading. He just looks tired now.


    ¡°The fastest thing we can get going are our mining operations. The Geologists are good, but they¡¯re not ready to bear the burden of paying for the whole Institute yet. A couple of years though, and they will be. Once we¡¯re running in the black, we can start doing the big split Father wanted, separating the Institute from the company. The stock should have fully rebounded by then. Maybe even shot up, if the new SynTech smartphones that should be on the market by then catch on. But we¡¯ll need to do it slowly, we¡¯ll need to keep control of the essential tech, and we need to do it when the stock price is high and stable.¡±


    He stands quietly for a moment. His pulse and blood pressure continue dropping back towards normal.


    ¡°What about your licensing stuff?¡± he asks, looking at me expectantly. ¡°Won¡¯t that cover costs?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s already baked into my numbers,¡± I tell him. ¡°Without it, we would be running out just a few months from now. Just like we would if one of your staffers gets pregnant.¡±


    He sits quietly for a long time.


    ¡°So what do you want?¡± he finally says.


    ¡°Two years, Chad. I need two years. I¡¯d rather have five, but I¡¯m trying to be realistic. Then you can go make as many little Butlers as you want with whoever you want. Just don¡¯t get anyone pregnant until then. I don¡¯t know what you have going on with Lucie and Keeya, whether that¡¯s financial or friendly or romantic or what. That¡¯s your business. But for this trip, I¡¯m sure the concierge can get you a box of condoms. Or I can go book you another room.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t answer for a while.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he says, his rage entirely subsided now.


    ¡°Just think with the head up top, not the one down below.¡±


    He smiles. I thought it was worth at least a chuckle.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter for a week or two anyway,¡± he says casually. ¡°Ovulation isn¡¯t due until then for either of them. I¡¯ll think about it, and I¡¯ll talk with them.¡±


    He¡¯s tracking their cycles? So they have been actively trying to conceive. I usually like being right, but I was hoping I was at least a little wrong on this.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    We take the elevator up together in uncomfortable silence. As the elevator doors open, I¡¯m tempted for a moment to peek into Chad¡¯s room with my bots, but nothing I learn there is going to help, and I really just don¡¯t want to know.


    ¡°Good night, brother,¡± Chad says. ¡°It really is good to see you all again.¡±


    I tell him likewise and turn towards my room. I shut the door and barely notice that my lodgings look like they were meant for royalty. I hope the rest of this trip is easier than tonight was. I scream into my pillow for a little bit then start getting ready for bed.


    From Evan: You talk to him yet?


    To Evan: Yeah, I think I¡¯ve got some brakes put on it, but I¡¯m not sure. Don¡¯t pile on him now. We¡¯ll talk about it tomorrow. We need a plan.


    From Evan: A plan like strangling him?


    To Evan: Maybe. We¡¯ll worry about it tomorrow though. For now, just get some sleep. We need to nail the presentation in the morning.


    From Evan: You don¡¯t need to tell me twice. Ding my brain when you¡¯re up and we¡¯ll figure things out.

 Mon 12/04 07:04:03 ICT

    The rooms at this place are nice, I¡¯ll give Alan and Sheryl that. Not my style, but very nice. From the shower where I¡¯m catching my memories up I can see out the window to the city and ocean below. I¡¯m still getting faster at reading, up 23% from my last measurement a month ago. It makes me wonder if the implant stimulates neural remodeling even more than we thought. I¡¯ll need to talk to Louise about it at some point.


    I dry off then pull my clothes over, letting my bots tie my shoelaces and tie as my fingers work the buttons of my shirt. Once I¡¯m all ready, there¡¯s still plenty of time for some email. Lin left me a sweet note about an hour ago telling me how much she¡¯s missed our video calls the last couple of days. Robert finalized the details on the contract with Antonio Campos yesterday and got everything signed on their end. Chuck and Marcus got the sample VR headsets and documentation and have started working on getting our software to work with them. Everything is on track back home. Grammy and Gramps are doing great and wish me luck on our trip. I pop back some quick responses thanking and acknowledging, then spend the rest of the free time I have writing back to Lin.


    And now it¡¯s time to prove to the world again that we¡¯re worthy heirs of Tom Butler¡¯s legacy. I head out and hit the button in the elevator for the 5th floor, where the press event will be held in the hotel¡¯s big ballroom. Phil and Stan get in on one of the floors on the way. They¡¯re both decked out and looking good. Phil¡¯s got a red shirt under his suit jacket, which I don¡¯t think I could pull off, but it looks great next to his dark skin. I straighten out Stan¡¯s slightly crooked tie.


    ¡°You guys ready?¡± I ask as the elevator descends.


    ¡°I think so. We just have to stand there for this, right?¡± Stan asks, fidgeting with his collar.


    ¡°Yeah, you can just be another smiling Butler child this time,¡± I reassure him. ¡°Evan and I are doing the talking and the show-and-tell. If you do decide to talk to any of the press, stick to the script as much as you can. Keeping the message consistent helps a lot. If anyone asks you anything that you don¡¯t know, just point them to me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about a thing, Noah. We got this,¡± Phil says in his charismatic way. Like a movie star ready to step onto set. He spouts off a few of the official lines. Stan tries too, but his delivery comes off more like an enthusiastic extra than the star of a show. At least he¡¯s got the content right. They¡¯ll do fine.


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    Inside the ballroom, reporters are milling around as their camera and sound crews set up their gear. A few local news outlets are here, and a whole lot of international ones are represented. I think I see everyone that we wanted to come cover us and then some. Several of the sibs are already here getting interviewed. Hopefully everyone stays on message. A gaggle quickly surrounds me, and I get flooded with questions. My index has answers to everything handy and I think I come off alright.


    The last of the sibs straggle in right before the official start time, Chad last of all with his girlfriends right behind him. The sweat on his forehead in spite of the building¡¯s generous air conditioning tells me he did some physical exertion after his shower this morning. If his satisfied grin weren¡¯t enough to make it obvious, the readings from his and his girlfriends¡¯ vitals tell me exactly what kind of exertion it was. So much for our talk last night making a difference.


    Lucie and Keeya take seats in the audience and Chad joins us up at the front of the room. I take the podium and deliver the prepared speech with Thao translating into Vietnamese next to me. It¡¯s not super impressive until the part where I project an example of one of the filtration units right in front of everyone. It¡¯s twice as tall as me and about a meter deep and a meter wide, with lots of very technical looking tubing and interconnects between the parts. It¡¯s not exactly what we¡¯ll be putting in the river, this one is a mostly empty shell made of bots with some light tricks, but it looks about right and makes the tech talk more interesting.


    Evan explains a bunch of the inner workings while I rotate it and highlight the various sections, occasionally peeling back layers and constructing innards on the fly. The press are eating it up, even the hardened international reporters are elbowing and whispering to each other as they point at the model. Real-life special effects tend to have that effect on people.


    The question and answer bit at the end goes smoothly. Some of the reporters seem to think it¡¯s fun to single out my various siblings with questions, but everyone did their homework and we all sound really good. The only minor problem is when one of the radio outlets tries to get Andrea to answer something verbally and she just keeps flashing images to answer the question. He eventually realizes she¡¯s not going to talk and just describes her answers in a way that I think will work when they air it.


    We wrap up the presentation and I let the model dissolve. The reporters head out and we have a few minutes for breakfast before we need to leave to get started on the real work of this trip. Up one floor, the cafe has a slew of options at their breakfast buffet ranging from local favorites to French and American dishes. Once everyone is done eating, we load up in a couple of big vans and head to the docks with a truck following behind with the rest of the luggage.

 Mon 12/04 11:16:57 ICT

    The river catamarans are bigger than the ones we used in Hawaii. Each one has two bedrooms and a larger deck where we can stage constructions. They¡¯re more comfortable than the smaller ones too, which is good since we¡¯ll be living in these for a month. I feel my bots building the improvements that the dev team made to the small kitchens, each boat now equipped with basic appliances and other essentials. As my many small metal hands finish up the other boats, my fleshy fingers open the small fridge in mine and start stocking it with the drinks and snacks that Mek had ready for us on the dock. I don¡¯t recognize the brands on most of them, but I¡¯m sure she got us something good.


    The guides¡¯ cat up ahead will act as the master for the fleet, with the rest set to follow automatically in a convoy unless we manually disengage. They¡¯re out on their deck organizing the large wooden crates that crowd it. Thao is checking something on his tablet and Mek is looking at a large folding map. I glance over and see Evan building the second of a pair of small speedboats attached to the back of the guides¡¯ cat. They¡¯ll be hauled along when we don¡¯t need them and will let us or the guides break off of the group for errands like getting meals for us.


    I look over at Andrea and Louise¡¯s cat. They¡¯re helping Valerie carry her boxes of medical supplies in. Over on Chad¡¯s boat, Chad and his girlfriends already have everything loaded except for the backpacks each of them are wearing now. The Geologist girls look like they¡¯re going to have a crowded cabin. I think they all went a little nuts yesterday at the markets and they¡¯ve barely got standing room with all the bags marked in Vietnamese scattered around their deck. Maybe I should have set a limit, but it probably wasn¡¯t too expensive as long as the guides kept everyone out of the high end stores like I told them to. The Geologist boys¡¯ boat is almost loaded, with all of them busily floating the last of their gear over from the truck. In just a few minutes, they¡¯re done and we¡¯re ready to go.


    Mai and Thao look my way and I wave the go-ahead. They start untying the lines mooring their cat to the dock and I start doing the same with mine. I reach out with my bots and untie the rest of the cats while I¡¯m at it. As the guide¡¯s boat pulls out, the other five follow like a choreographed dance. I wait until they straighten out and I can see everything is going well, then pop on my flight suit and jet back to Chad¡¯s boat.


    I land next to the deck chair where he¡¯s reclining next to Keeya. He¡¯s already got his shirt off and Keeya is sporting a white bikini that makes a stark contrast against her dark skin. I can¡¯t deny that he¡¯s got good taste in women. She¡¯s got an amazing body that I¡¯m trying very hard not to look at now.


    ¡°Hey, Noah,¡± she says cheerfully as I touch down.


    ¡°Hey, Keeya,¡± I greet her with my eyes on my brother as my flight suit melts away. ¡°Chad, are you ready for your update?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± he says casually. ¡°We¡¯re due for that today, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Apparently his plan for today is to pretend we didn¡¯t have our conversation last night. Fine, I¡¯ll play along.


    ¡°Yeah, slide over and give me your appliance.¡±


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    He sits up, digs into the oversized pockets of his cargo shorts, and hands me the device. I reach into my satchel and fish out mine and the connection cable.


    ¡°This will just take a couple of minutes,¡± I say, sitting down next to him and plugging his box into mine. I kick off the update.


    Lucie comes out in a bikini even smaller than Keeya¡¯s with a drink in each hand. She¡¯s also stunning, though her figure is on the very lean side. I guess I don¡¯t have room to talk there; the girl I¡¯m into wasn¡¯t much more than skin and bones when I met her.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she says. ¡°I see we have company. Noah, can I get you a drink?¡±


    I suddenly realize that despite all the humidity in the air, the busy morning has left me parched. ¡°Sure, something cold would be great.¡±


    ¡°Beer or soda?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Soda, please. Cola if you have it.¡±


    ¡°Coming up,¡± she says, handing Keeya one of the drinks and Chad the other. Beer, by the look and smell.


    I really want to lay into Chad about drinking. We don¡¯t know anything about the effects of alcohol when using bots. Father was a teetotaller, and we were all underage when he was around, so it never came up before. If I didn¡¯t already have one battle with him underway, I¡¯d open my mouth about it. But the other fight is much more important, so I don¡¯t. Chad apparently doesn¡¯t notice or care as he sips his cold one. I put it on my long list of things to talk to Louise about. She¡¯ll have better medical insight and might do better than me at talking to him about it.


    Lucie brings out a glass with soda on ice for me and another beer for her. After handing me my drink with a smile, she settles in on the other deck chair opposite Keeya¡¯s and puts on a pair of sunglasses.


    UPDATE COMPLETE


    ¡°There. I think we¡¯re good,¡± I say. ¡°Tell me if this works.¡±


    To Chad: Hey, brother. Are you seeing this?


    His face lights up. ¡°Yes I can. That is amazing. Evan built this?¡±


    ¡°Mostly Evan, but it was part of Father¡¯s designs that he left behind for us, so he should really get the credit. Try sending a message back.¡±


    From Chad: Is this working?


    ¡°It is. You¡¯re all set.¡±


    I disconnect the devices and stow mine back in my bag along with the cable. I hand Chad his and finish my drink before taking the glass back into their kitchen.


    ¡°You mind taking mosquito duty today?¡± I ask him as I return to the deck. ¡°It¡¯s one of the new functions you got with the update, fully automated like our old threat scanner.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing, brother,¡± he says, already reclined again with his hands clasped behind his head.


    Keeya rolls over and the swimwear she¡¯s wearing leaves very little to the imagination. I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s even registering for me. With my cloud vision, I see around and through clothes pretty often. Not like I even try to, but when someone walks into part of my cloud I feel whatever part of them touches it. But it¡¯s different when I see things with my physical eyes, not sure why. Anyway, with the three of them tanning and drinking like this is a tropical vacation, my job is done here. I¡¯m going to go find better company.


    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll talk to you later,¡± I say.


    I suit up and jet back to my boat. Evan and Marc are already settled into deck chairs there with one left empty for me. I take it and get comfortable. It¡¯s a long ride down the Saigon river to the South China Sea, then up into the Mekong where we¡¯ll finally get started.

 Mon 12/04 12:41:06 ICT

    To Evan, Louise, Andrea, Marc, Stan, Phil, Jen, Erik, Lisa, Becky, Steph: Don¡¯t forget to gather for the collectors along the way. We have permission to gather along the banks here and we¡¯ll want to get construction going before we get to the next area where materials will be available.


    I don¡¯t want malaria or dengue fever, so I leave Chad on mosquito duty.  The scrapyard that the Vietnamese government donated to us in Ho Chi Minh City provided plenty of material for our fleet, but we¡¯re going to be providing our own supplies as we go from now on and I want all the younger sibs to get used to that. A stream of acknowledgements come in from everyone and before long I feel piles of metal ingots start to form on the decks of the boats as our bots get to work. I finish unpacking in the room Evan and I will be sharing. I hear Marc in the other room, still getting his stuff situated. I think Evan is already over with the girls on their cat, but with my bots busy collecting I can¡¯t feel him. I walk outside and pull back enough bots to fly, then hop over and land on their deck.


    ¡°Hey, Noah, we¡¯re in here,¡± Valerie greets me from inside the cabin. I step through the clear sliding door to where she is setting up her medical station, unpacking boxes of gauze, bandages, sealed surgical tools, and lots of bottles of pills into the cabinets. She¡¯s taking her job as the trip nurse seriously. The two boxes of medical bots that are already on one of the shelves could take care of anything really serious, but it won¡¯t hurt to have someone with formal medical training handy. And drugs. None of the sibs have much background with pharmaceuticals other than the ones the auto-dispensers use for anesthesia. Having antibiotics and painkillers available is probably a good thing if anything goes wrong.


    ¡°Hey Valerie,¡± I say. ¡°Is Evan around?¡±


    From Evan: Behind you.


    I turn and see Evan sitting at a small table in the corner, I¡¯d missed him entirely. It¡¯s weird having my whole cloud out working; it leaves me with blind spots I¡¯m not used to. Valerie opens her mouth to respond, sees me looking at Evan, and turns back to her work.


    To Evan: Time to talk about Chad. Want to keep it private or use words?


    From Evan: Words. I don¡¯t keep secrets from Valerie other than that big one. I think she might have some useful insights. Andrea and Louise too, and they should be out here in a minute once they finish unpacking.


    I nod and grab the seat next to Evan.


    ¡°Hey, hon,¡± Evan says, ¡°would you mind giving us your opinion on something?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure. What¡¯s up?¡± she says, stowing the last box of syringes in the cupboard and joining us at the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it might be a sensitive subject for you,¡± Evan says gently, ¡°but it¡¯s important.¡±


    I turn on my overlay to double-check that no bots from Chad¡¯s cloud are formed into speakers nearby. The mosquito routine should be occupying all of Chad¡¯s bots, but a little paranoia never hurts. It¡¯s all clear, but I pull some bots off of work duty to put up an eavesdropping shield anyway.


    I fill Valerie in on what I already told Evan, and relate my whole conversation with Chad from last night. Her usual smile fades to a somber expression.


    ¡°Hmm, yeah,¡± she says, looking like she¡¯s trying hard to find the right words.


    ¡°It¡¯s OK if you¡¯re not comfortable talking about this,¡± Evan says.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s good. I can be open about this. There are some things I¡¯ve wanted to say to you for a while anyway, but I just haven¡¯t found the right moment. I guess this is as good as any.¡±


    She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.


    ¡°So, let me start by saying that I came from nothing,¡± she says. ¡°Which is something you can¡¯t understand unless you¡¯ve been there, but I¡¯ll try to explain it as best I can. I¡¯ve got poverty going back as far as I can track my family tree. My dad¡¯s dad jumped the border from Mexico without a single cent to his name. He picked fruit and vegetables every day of his life after that, moving around, following the harvests. He died young from an infection that any hospital could have fixed with a single shot, but he was so afraid of getting deported that he never got it treated. He died right out in an almond grove, working until the minute he dropped, leaving his pregnant girlfriend even more broke than he was. I¡¯ve told you a little about my Ba, my grandmother from here in Vietnam. She came over alone as a refugee when she was in her teens, looking for her dad. Never did find him. She ended up in California raising my dad alone, and I¡¯m not going to tell you how she swung that but you can probably guess. She died when I was eight. My mom was a runaway. She didn¡¯t talk much about her parents but from what she did tell me, I think they can most charitably be described as abusive meth heads. She just called them trash that I shouldn¡¯t worry about, and that¡¯s all I know about them.¡±


    She gets up and walks to the fridge. She takes her time grabbing a drink and taking a sip.


    ¡°My parents both worked at least two jobs every day I can remember, Christmas included, but they never got ahead.¡± She slowly walks back towards the table as she talks. ¡°Every cent they could spare they sunk into me, making sure I had the opportunities they never did. Even then, I never owned a shirt that didn¡¯t come from a thrift store until I was getting ready to do job interviews. I studied my ass off because I couldn¡¯t stand to work any less hard than they did. I skipped fifth grade and ninth grade and then got into college, a good one, with a good scholarship that covered tuition. There was no money for lodging, or books, or food, but my parents insisted that I go anyway. So I borrowed the money. I almost stopped after I got my nursing license, but my parents insisted I get all the education I needed to do what I really wanted. Grad school wasn¡¯t cheap, but student loans seemed like a good investment. I knew with what I was doing I could pay them back and still help my parents out, but I walked out of school with a couple of advanced degrees and a quarter million dollars of debt.¡±


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    She pauses again and takes another deep breath and another long sip of her drink. She sits back down and Evan reaches across the table and takes her hand. She grasps his fingers like a lifeline.


    ¡°So, when I was looking for my first job a very unusual recruiter approached me about taking a position that paid way more than the going rate, of course I was interested. They don¡¯t lead with the sex thing. They start with the pay, the benefits, the free housing, and the retirement plan. I saw my debt melting away. I saw the house I could buy for my parents, finally letting them get out of that shitty apartment they¡¯d been stuck in for twenty years. I saw them finally dropping down to one job each. I saw Christmas where there was more than an hour between shifts and more than one present each.¡±


    At some point, Andrea and Louise had silently entered the room and stood back against the wall separating the kitchen from the cabins, just listening.


    ¡°Then they talked about what I¡¯d be supporting. Tom Butler¡¯s vision for the future, the lives that the Butler Institute was already saving and the ones you were going to save. The end of famines and wars and pollution. I looked at some other jobs, but none of them felt like they were changing the world.¡±


    She turns and sees our sisters there. Andrea softly steps forward and puts her hand on Valerie¡¯s shoulder. I don¡¯t know how much she heard but she seems to sense that Valerie¡¯s dumping out her heart here. Valerie looks at her, nods, and continues.


    ¡°The recruiters reach out early and wait like a week between each contact, reeling you in slowly. Once you¡¯re ready to go in for the final interview, they tell you about how if you decide to contribute your genes to the project, you¡¯d get the ten million dollars. Ten million! That number didn¡¯t even make sense to me. They might as well have offered me the moon, it was so impossibly huge. And you have to remember, I was barely twenty-one at this point. That money was my parents retiring early. Mom not coming home from scrubbing toilets to sit worrying over which bill they¡¯d have to let slip until next month. Dad not breaking his back stocking shelves all night.¡±


    Louise comes around and sits next to me.


    ¡°And then I met your father,¡± Valerie continues, ¡°and he was so nice, and so old. I thought there was no way he was fathering anything anymore, that he had some frozen sperm stored and that was how they did it. In my head I had already spent the money, bought my parents the house. By the time they got to the part where I had to register as a sex worker, I probably would have taken a Rumpelstiltskin deal to get in. Actually, I literally did.¡±


    A tear wells up in one corner of her eye.


    ¡°I never ended up sleeping with him. God, I¡¯m still a virgin. Surprise!¡± she laughs and a bunch of tears shake out. Evan grips her hand more tightly, his knuckles lightening. ¡°I would have, though. I would have without feeling bad about it for one minute. I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t, because then I know I couldn¡¯t have what I have with you now, Evan. But I would have.¡±


    Louise runs and grabs some tissues for Valerie to blow her nose. She takes a moment and regains her composure.


    ¡°So, if the deal was that tempting to me, who grew up in America with food in my belly every day and clean water coming from a faucet in my home, you can imagine what it might mean to someone coming from a less privileged place. I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like where Keeya and Lucie are from, but I¡¯m not going to judge them for taking the deal, whether it was with your father or with your brother. I know they have their reasons, like we all did.¡±


    She lets that sit for a moment. Evan just holds her hand, not saying a word.


    ¡°I don¡¯t judge them either,¡± I tell Valerie, wishing it were as true as I want it to be now, having heard her story. ¡°But we can all do a lot more good in the long run if we can manage to make sure neither of them gets pregnant on this trip or any time in the next few years.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get that,¡± Valerie says, nodding. ¡°The kind of thing we¡¯re doing on this trip goes way beyond taking care of one or two families.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. So, how do we make sure Chad backs off?¡±


    She snorts and shakes her head.


    ¡°I was young when I was in college, but I wasn¡¯t blind. I know how guys your age work. Once you boys go sexually active, you don¡¯t stop. And condoms are pretty unreliable. Less fun too, from what I¡¯ve been told. I think we¡¯re going to do a lot better working this from the other end, getting the girls to wait. If they¡¯re at all like me, it¡¯s not just about the money. They¡¯ve bought into the whole vision and they won¡¯t want to wreck it. I have birth control pills, if we can get them on those and get them to practice safe sex for the first few weeks while they kick in, we should be OK.¡±


    ¡°You packed birth control pills?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°You do know I have as much training as most gynecologists, right? Just specialized in childbirth. Of course I¡¯m packing pills. The rest of the nursing training was just a nice side effect of learning the stuff I really cared about, which is everything about women¡¯s reproductive systems. Plus, I¡¯m on them. They keep me regular. I¡¯m not about to take any long trips without a good supply of anything I need.¡±


    ¡°We should talk more about that,¡± Louise says.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Evan says, clearly trying to forestall a conversation about menstruation and birth control with our sister, ¡°that sounds like a way better plan than what I was thinking of.¡±


    ¡°What were you going to do, beat him up?¡± Valerie jokes.


    Evan just looks down. I guess that was the extent of his planning so far. We all laugh.


    ¡°Nevermind that,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s do it Valerie¡¯s way. But I think it needs to come from you three. I think that if Chad sees any of the guys getting close with either of them, he¡¯s just going to get jealous and lash out. Can you three ladies become their best friends and talk them into it?¡±


    They all nod in agreement.


    ¡°They seem all right,¡± Louise says. ¡°I wanted to get to know them better anyway.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± Valerie says, and Andrea pops a smiling icon into the air.


    I feel a little hope. If anyone can get this situation sorted out it¡¯s these three.

 Mon 12/04 15:03:31 ICT

    I grow my bots a fair amount once my pile of materials is big enough, reveling in the additional sensations and strength that the larger cloud brings. The waves slapping against the side of the cat give it a little side-to-side motion as we pull out of the broad river mouth and onto the open sea. The river cats aren¡¯t optimized for the waves, and Marc is already looking a little sick. Valerie gives him something for the nausea. Hopefully he¡¯ll be OK. It should only be an hour before we hit the smoother waters at the start of the Mekong delta.


    I float a crate of control chips over from the guide¡¯s boat to my deck. Like with the platforms we built in Hawaii and the catamarans, the filters and collectors need advanced processors and satellite uplinks. Complex silicon like that would take forever to print with the bots, so we pack them along. The construction routines for what we¡¯re building now require one of these pre-built chips in addition to the raw materials and maintainer bots.


    I grab another crate and move it to the girls¡¯ boat, dropping it off on their empty deck. The decks of both of the Geologists¡¯ boats all have sunbathers that I have to shoo away as the crates descend. A couple of them squawk in dismay as I slide their deck chairs to the side with them still on them.


    To All: Time to start building. Control chips are on your decks, and we need them all turned into collectors today. Chad, please continue to keep the mosquitos off of us.


    I crack open the wooden lid of my crate and pull out a chip for the first one. With materials handy and my cloud at its current size, it¡¯s under a minute for me to get the first collector ready. A meter long and roughly cylindrical, the collectors will handle the casks of chemicals that the filters upstream will produce once we build them. It turns out that most pollutants have industrial applications if someone can cheaply concentrate and sometimes refine them. The filters will sort and store each kind of pollutant that it pulls out of the water until it has enough to produce a sealed, floating cask. Finding the right size for them was a challenge. They had to be big enough that none of the critters in the river can try to eat them, and small enough that they won¡¯t cause any congestion. We ended up with tubes about as big around as a basketball and a little over a meter long.


    The collectors will swim all over the delta, gather up the casks, and deposit them in warehouse areas for pickup. We¡¯ll sell the contents cheap to whoever wants to pick them up, which should stimulate local economic growth and contribute to industry and agriculture.


    The delta is huge and sprawling, so we¡¯ll need a ton of these guys. During the next couple of days, we¡¯ll be mass-producing them and dropping them in the water as we go. The smarts in the control chips will spread them out and coordinate them so that we don¡¯t neglect any of the hundreds of waterways that make up the delta.


    Another collector and then another take their place in a neat row on the deck. Marc hurls over the railing and begs out to go lie down. I¡¯m not sure that will help with the motion of the ocean, but I¡¯m already getting ahead of schedule, so I don¡¯t object. Evan finally comes over from the girls¡¯ boat and starts building. Soon we¡¯ve got them covering most of the deck, stacked two high. We¡¯re still not far enough into the delta that we can start dropping them off.


    ¡°You doing OK man?¡± I ask Evan. ¡°That was heavy stuff with Valerie.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he answers. ¡°Can¡¯t say that was easy. We¡¯ve been avoiding taking on that whole conversation head-on for a long time. She¡¯s mentioned some of it, but never just dived in like that. I feel like I know her better now, and I don¡¯t love her any less for it. She¡¯s right, though. Pushing on this from the Chad side isn¡¯t as good an option as trying to get his harem on board.¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Harem, huh?¡± I laugh.


    ¡°You got a better name for them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been using ¡®girlfriends.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Not sure if that¡¯s the actual relationship there,¡± he notes, straightening out a stack of collectors that start to slide out of place.


    ¡°Well, ¡®whores¡¯ seemed rude, ¡®staffers¡¯ seemed inadequate, ¡®employees with benefits¡¯ was way too long,¡± I reply. ¡°And Mom trained me to not even think of most of the other terms that would fit. I don¡¯t know. ¡®Harem¡¯ seems archaic and misogynist.¡±


    ¡°Well, Chad is a misogynist. His views on women are directly copied from a dirty and very old man, so that tracks,¡± Evan counters.


    I can¡¯t really argue with that, but I¡¯m never going to think of Keeya and Lucie as harem girls, so I just grunt and stack another half dozen collectors on top of the growing pile of them on the deck.


    ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll go with girlfriends.¡± Evan concedes.


    I nod appreciatively. ¡°So what¡¯s the backup if plan A fails with Chad? Are we still on for strangulation?¡±


    ¡°Seems appropriate,¡± he says with a chuckle. ¡°How did you miss it, anyway? The contracts Chad had set up, I mean. You¡¯ve got them all in your head, right?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really read all the documents I scan in. Especially early on when I was still getting my electronic brain set up. I spent a lot of time just screenscraping stuff with my bot eyes and dumping the text into the index.¡± I shake my head, wishing the artificial parts of my brain worked better than they do. ¡°For a while, I had a dozen monitors set up and was just popping open documents all day and scanning while I did my other work. It was all I could do to get most of them hooked to the right index entries. So, just because it¡¯s in my electronic storage, doesn¡¯t mean I actually know what it is until I take the time to really look at it, and even then, I only have it until I forget it again. My brain is becoming more and more like a computer. The wet part is like the processor cache, the index works like the hard drive. I can only do anything with the information that¡¯s in my recent memory, things I¡¯ve been reminded about in the last few hours. If I get a prompt, memories seem to shake loose. Sometimes, anyway. But without some reminder, I just can¡¯t put things together. Noticing things like Chad¡¯s customizations to the contracts is something I would have had to look for specifically.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense.¡± He nods. ¡°I¡¯m not blaming you, really. Just making sure that I understand. You¡¯re doing pretty well, all things considered.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m broken but still functional,¡± I say, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice. ¡°At least most days.¡±


    ¡°You ever think of just connecting directly to the network? Instead of screenscraping? Seems like it would save time.¡±


    ¡°No way. Any kind of direct connection opens too many doors for vulnerabilities. This thing is basically an open channel into my brain. I¡¯m paranoid enough about the minimal comms we have for getting updates done, even though the devs tell me those are as safe as can be since they did their security updates.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± he says, building another collector. There¡¯s barely room on the deck now to stand.


    ¡°Besides,¡± I say, ¡°doing that wouldn¡¯t help me make connections between things. It would just make it faster to get more raw data in. That¡¯s generally not the slow step these days.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Evan says again.


    I look over the deck at the work we¡¯ve done and check our location on the screens in the upper deck. Good, we¡¯ve got more done than I expected we¡¯d have by now. I reach over to feel out to the other boats.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got about twenty minutes left before we can start dropping these guys, and it looks like both of the Geologist boats are behind schedule. You want to go help them catch up?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he says as his massive body encases itself in a black flight suit.

 Mon 12/04 17:17:43 ICT

    ¡°Torpedo, away!¡± calls Phil as he waves his hands at one of the collectors, his bots pushing it off the small ramp at the back of the cat. I guess they do look a little like torpedoes, though instead of the propeller in the back it¡¯s an enclosed jet system so they¡¯ll have a minimal impact on the environment and won¡¯t accidentally shred any wildlife.


    Erik is up next, sliding my latest build over without any gestures and pushing it out. Whatever control system he¡¯s got going is not quite as efficient as Phil¡¯s gesture scheme, and it takes him a little longer to get his collector off the boat. They could probably both do the job faster with just muscle power, but this is good practice for them and they seem to prefer it.


    Stan and I are producing the collectors about as fast as they can deploy them. I probably get five out for every one of Stan¡¯s, but I think that¡¯s about right for where Stan should be at this point. He¡¯s actually not too far behind where I was when we went to Africa in terms of the cloud size he¡¯s handling. He¡¯s by far the best with his cloud of the three boys in the Geologist class.


    I look over at the Geologist girls¡¯ boat. Looks like Evan¡¯s got them organized into a rotation system rather than an assembly line, but they¡¯re efficiently dropping collectors almost as fast as we are. It¡¯s important that the Geologists feel like they¡¯re an essential part of this project. That was one thing Father did really well on the Africa trip that we all agreed we wanted to replicate here. I can¡¯t see Louise¡¯s boat from here, and I don¡¯t want to pull bots away from manufacturing collectors to take a good look, but I¡¯m sure she and Andrea are getting a lot done. Marc will unload the stacks of collectors that Evan and I built on our cat once he¡¯s feeling better, then come join us over here. He still can¡¯t fly, but he can handle building walkways between the cats when he needs them. That¡¯s basic library stuff that even the Geologists can do, so it should be fine. Worst case, the guides will be listening for the man overboard alarm and we can go fish him out of the water.


    One of the speedboats is off getting our dinner. I heard something about banh mi sandwiches like those really good ones I got from the street vendor back in Ho Chi Minh City. I¡¯m excited for that.


    ¡°Keep it up guys, good work,¡± I say. ¡°Just about a million more to do.¡±


    Stan laughs, the other two just kind of grunt. They¡¯re focused on their jobs, which is just what they should be doing, but I don¡¯t want this to be miserable for them.


    ¡°Erik,¡± I say, turning to him, ¡°it might be worth your time to look at a different control scheme. You¡¯re just using direct commands for each action now, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he answers, his eyes intently focused on the collector he¡¯s moving. I see his left hand twitching almost imperceptibly.


    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad technique, but I think you could get more done if you use a gesture based system like Phil is running.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so,¡± he concedes. ¡°I just thought it would be pretentious to wave my hands like a wizard every time I want to move something.¡±


    I laugh as Phil starts to open his mouth to protest.


    ¡°What do you think we are?¡± I say before Phil can get mad at him. ¡°Modern day techno-wizards sounds about right. There¡¯s nothing pretentious about doing what works well. Look at Andrea, she does almost everything with a gesture control scheme and she pulls off some really amazing work.¡±


    ¡°OK. But I don¡¯t have any code for it.¡± He looks almost ashamed. ¡°I¡¯ve been avoiding writing a system like that.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem,¡± I say. ¡°Here, come switch with Stan and do construction. It shouldn¡¯t demand too much of your attention since it¡¯s almost all automated. We can get something set up for you while we build. Is that OK with you, Stan?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± he says, finishing up his current build and stepping across the deck. He uses a similar gesture to what Phil¡¯s been using to move the collector, which tells me that they probably collaborated on the system they¡¯re using. Good, that kind of cooperation is what they should be doing, better than the secretive compartmentalization that some of my class did. We need to get Erik playing in the same playground.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Fortunately, Erik is a quick study, and Phil and Stan are good about sharing their code once we get going. Before long, Erik is waving his hands and shoving torpedos down the ramp just as quickly as the others. They¡¯re good kids and good company. I should have taken the time to get to know them better before this.


    The heat isn¡¯t bad, now that I¡¯m used to it, but the humidity is brutal. We¡¯re all covered in sweat. I pass out some cold drinks from the fridge as we work and talk. Collectors drop in the river as the boys improve the gesture interface they¡¯re all now using quite a bit. The materials stash finally runs out, which slows the whole production down since now we have to gather as we build.


    Mek pulls up in the speedboat and we get a dinner break. The sandwiches she hands out are even better than the ones from the street vendor. Or maybe I¡¯m just hungrier, hard to tell. Either way, the pickled vegetables make a crisp contrast to the savory pork slices and the crusty bread tastes like it was just baked. Delicious.


    We get back to work after dinner, moving faster now. Phil is able to handle all the drops, so Stan, Erik, and I just focus on construction. I pull another crate of control boards over.


    ¡°With all the practice we¡¯ve been doing,¡± I tell them, ¡°you might be able to handle a bigger cloud soon. Whenever you feel like you¡¯re ready, go ahead and grow. We have permission to access whatever minerals we need along the shorelines on our route.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Erik says and the others nod. He pauses construction for a moment and my overlay shows his cloud replicating along the nearby shore. In a couple of minutes he¡¯s back to building, faster this time, almost up to Stan¡¯s speed.


    To Andrea, Louise, Evan: How much longer do we want to push today? I don¡¯t want to burn them out on their first real day of work.


    From Louise: Another hour maybe?


    From Evan: Yeah, an hour sounds good.


    The heat of the day lingers even with the sun down. It¡¯s not like at home in the Nevada desert where even in the summer it starts cooling down as soon as the sun disappears. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll get used to the humidity soon, but it still feels like I¡¯m breathing water.


    Another build, another, another, another. Each one is followed by a splash as Phil pushes them into the water.


    ¡°OK, guys,¡± I finally tell them. ¡°Quitting time. Good work today.¡±


    I set up a walkway with railings between here and the next cat, then another linking it to Chad¡¯s, and so on up the chain to the guide¡¯s boat. I make the walkways flexible enough that I think we can leave them up all night without any issues.


    ¡°Party at Chad¡¯s place,¡± I declare.


    I choose Chad¡¯s because it¡¯s the only cat that doesn¡¯t have the deck cluttered with building materials or crates. We pile over the bridge and pick up Evan and the Geologist girls on our way to Chad¡¯s boat. Louise and company seem to have had the same idea I did, and they brought the guides along from the other direction. Marc shows up last, looking much better than he did earlier.


    Chad, Keeya, and Lucie all look happy to have us all aboard, even if the deck and main cabin are a little crowded now. At first it¡¯s a little quiet, with most of us exhausted from the day¡¯s heat and work, but Marc starts telling the girlfriends some old, embarrassing stories about Chad and soon everyone is laughing and chatting. The guides are all pretty cool. I already liked Akara, and the rest seem just as good. Mek and Simok, the two Laotians, are a little quieter, but once they get going they¡¯re good company.


    Keeya pulls out some treats from the boat¡¯s pantry, pastries that look a little like hamburger buns with sesame seeds dotted around the outside. They¡¯re hollow inside and sweet, really good. She offers beers all around, but Louise intercepts her off with the excuse that most of the group is under the local legal age and we want to avoid any legal trouble, so she passes around sodas instead. Chad still takes a beer from the fridge though, so I guess I don¡¯t need to tell Louise about it. I make a reminder task to talk to Louise about alcohol and the implant.


    It¡¯s getting late and I still want to get a message to Lin before I go to bed. I beg off and make my way towards my boat, starting a trend that my bots feel everyone behind me starting to follow. I guess I¡¯m not the only one who feels like it was a long day today. I hit my room, strip down to my shorts, and crash on top of the bed. I grab my tablet and start banging out a quick email to Lin. About halfway through,  Evan gets back and starts to get settled in. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s jet lag or just the long day of hard effort, but I¡¯m barely keeping my eyes open.


    I did good work today, Mom. I¡¯m saving the world. You can be proud of me.

 Tue 12/05 06:29:53 ICT

    I hear the throbbing of a familiar beat in the distance, though as I look around, the room seems strange. Where am I?


    I feel a gentle rocking. I¡¯m on a boat.


    Vietnam. Right.


    I get up and hit the head as I start reading my memory back in for the day. I know that beat now. I grab my workout clothes.


    ¡°Hey, brothers,¡± I say, loudly enough to wake up Evan and Marc. I ignore their sleepy grumbles. ¡°You guys want to come for Andrea¡¯s morning exercise party?¡±


    Marc calls out a no from his room. Evan just groans.


    ¡°You sure, Evan?¡± I ask him. ¡°You know Andrea¡¯s going to have Valerie out there. Probably in yoga gear.¡±


    That works. Evan is up and dressed in moments. I glance at my task list to see if there¡¯s anything else I need to do before I go exercise. Just one more thing.


    ¡°Marc, you remember you¡¯re on mosquito duty today?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I got it,¡± he says, less groggy now.


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget that you¡¯re in charge of coordinating it from here on out this trip. You good?¡±


    ¡°On it,¡± he confirms as my overlay shows his cloud dispersing. A couple of mosquitos drop dead on the deck as we head out.


    The walkways between the boats are still up, so I walk over to Andrea¡¯s cat where she¡¯s got a good sized group already starting stretches. Looks like she¡¯s already recruited all the girls plus Stan, though from where his eyes are glued, I think that his participation has more to do with taking an opportunity to ogle Keeya and Lucie than anything else. Evan and I fall in line, stretching and posing and sweating as the sun climbs up the sky. It¡¯s a great workout. I¡¯m feeling physically exhausted and mentally energized by the end of it. Evan is smiling as we walk back, he had the spot right behind Valerie and enjoyed a good view the whole time.


    My bot eyes pointing behind me see that Keeya and Lucie are lingering and talking with Louise and Valerie. Good.


    I give Evan the first shot at the shower and grab some breakfast. I choose one of the sticky rice bundles from the fridge. It¡¯s pink and smells fruity. Biting in, it¡¯s sweet. Not bad. I chew absently as I grab my tablet and check email. The satellite connection isn¡¯t great this morning, but it¡¯s enough for moving messages as long as they¡¯re just text. I skim through the standard junk that I get, the administrivia of running the Butler Institute. A message from Chuck updates me on the VR headset integration work. Sheryl loved the way the press event went. Alan¡¯s message gets me current on all the regular business and needs a response for a couple of questions he had. I fire back a reply.


    The email from Lin, which I saved till the end, clues me in on her life yesterday. I pop the last bite of sticky rice into my mouth and type out a response telling her more about what we got done yesterday and how excited I am to see her again. I¡¯m almost done writing when Evan gets done with the shower. I wrap up and go get cleaned up. Once I¡¯m dressed, I¡¯m feeling ready to start the day for real.


    Keeya and Lucie are still on Louise¡¯s boat, eating and talking with her. I borrow Steph to help with launch duty since she seems to be the fastest worker in the Geologists¡¯ class and the two of us head to Chad¡¯s boat. My bots feel that he¡¯s still in bed. A larger-than-king-sized bed that he must have custom built in there. Unsurprisingly, it¡¯s the only bed on the boat. He¡¯s so going to wreck all our plans. Steph waits on the deck while I pop inside the cabin.


    I give his closed door a knock. ¡°Hey Chad, ready to get started?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± comes his groggy voice through the thin plastic of the door. ¡°Just give me a couple.¡±


    Stepping back out to the deck, I pull a couple of crates of control boards over and make sure the other boats are stocked. My bots reach out to the riverbanks on either side of us and start piling materials up on the deck. Steph sees the piles forming and joins in without needing any instructions. She¡¯s quiet around me, which is weird because I know she¡¯s usually chatty with other people. My index tells me that I suspect she¡¯s intimidated by me, but I don¡¯t have a good reason why. I try to make some small talk to put her at ease while we gather, but I can¡¯t get more than single word answers out of her.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    We need to get more collectors out today than we did yesterday, so I send a portion of my bots out to the riverbank to self-replicate and bulk up my cloud pretty significantly. I don¡¯t push to my capacity, because Louise says that¡¯s a sure way to wreck my brain more, but I do get big enough that I should be able to build a lot faster today. Chad eventually comes out to the deck, a package of sticky rice in one hand. He sits and eats as he sends out bots to gather. The pile is growing quickly now.


    ¡°How fast can you unload the collectors?¡± I ask Steph.


    ¡°Probably as fast as you can build. I went and did unloading for Louise and Andrea yesterday and kept up pretty easily,¡± she responds in her longest answer of the morning.


    ¡°Great,¡± I say, and get started building. With my larger cloud, I¡¯m putting out several each minute. True to her word, Steph is keeping up. Chad keeps the materials flowing in and we get more done in the first couple of hours than the boys and I did all day yesterday.


    ¡°Keeya and Lucie are over with Andrea and them?¡± Chad asks. His voice seems carefully casual. I think I was on to something thinking that he¡¯d get jealous if he saw them getting close with any of our brothers.


    ¡°Yeah, I think they¡¯re hitting it off. We all like them.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me too,¡± Chad grins.


    I don¡¯t have a good response that won¡¯t pick a fight, so we go back to working in silence.


    ¡°You have a chance to think about what we talked about the other day?¡± I finally ask.


    ¡°Yeah. Still thinking about it. Still need to talk to them about it. Father always believed in honoring his commitments, and they¡¯ve had promises made to them.¡±


    ¡°Right, yeah, that¡¯s fair. But the contract doesn¡¯t put you on the hook to deliver, just gives you an option you can exercise. Unless you¡¯ve made some additional agreements.¡±


    ¡°Let me talk to them,¡± he says. ¡°I can probably do it today.¡±


    ¡°Please do,¡± I ask, trying not to sound angry at him.


    Steph looks confused by the exchange. Probably better that way. I hope Keeya and Lucie will be prepped enough from their talks with the sisters. I hope things go the way I need them to when they have that conversation.


    Another build, another, another, another. Splash, splash, splash.


    ¡°Mind if I put the shade up?¡± I ask as the sun climbs higher into the sky.


    ¡°Go for it,¡± Chad says.


    I pull the canvas over the frame from the cabin, shading the deck.


    Another build, another, another, another. Splash, splash, splash.


    ¡°So how has it been in Tanzania? And the other countries you¡¯ve been working in? I¡¯ve read the reports, and heard your stories at the restaurant, but tell me the rest.¡±


    Chad starts regaling us with anecdotes from his travels. People he¡¯s met, customs he thought were funny, the time his team messed up and didn¡¯t prep a village and he ended up getting chased out. They let him back the next week once his people had smoothed things over, and they threw a big feast in his honor after he built them a well and a solar farm.


    Time flows faster, and Mek brings lunch around. I grab a couple more crates of control boards over and resupply the Geologists¡¯ boats. The afternoon rushes by with a steady flow of Chad¡¯s stories. I talk about the Hawaii trip, describing the park that we built on the old strip mine, the run-in with Dorothy, the platforms we built. I leave out my dark time. I¡¯m not up for that conversation with Chad. Besides, the urge to kill myself feels distant now. I still acknowledge that I¡¯m a terrible person, but it¡¯s not the same fixation that it used to be. Thanks Andrea.


    Steph mostly stays quiet, occasionally asking questions. She almost looks star-struck when she talks to either of us. I wonder if she has Marc¡¯s same hero-worship complex. Just as I think of my unfiltered brother, he ambles across the connecting bridge toward us. He stays and chats for a few while we build and deploy, then moves on to the Geologists¡¯ boats. Chad grabs us some drinks from his fridge. He takes a soda this time. Good. It¡¯s a little early in the day to start drinking. I¡¯m glad his beverage choice isn¡¯t exclusively beer these days, I was starting to wonder.


    Keeya and Lucie come over the bridge.


    ¡°Hey, Chad,¡± they say in unison in a sing-songy voice. It¡¯s clearly some kind of an inside joke as they giggle afterwards.


    ¡°Hey, babes,¡± he replies. ¡°You two have a good morning?¡±


    ¡°Very good,¡± Lucie says, smiling. ¡°Your sisters are so nice.¡±


    ¡°And Valerie,¡± Keeya adds. ¡°So very nice.¡±


    Chad¡¯s eyes follow the two of them as they go inside the boat and step into the bedroom. At least he doesn¡¯t try to go join them. And it sounds like step one in our plan to get them to solve my Chad problem worked out. I dare to start feeling some hope that we can resolve things without wrecking all my financial plans. And with the work we¡¯ve done this morning and the production I¡¯ve felt on the other boats, we¡¯re actually ahead of schedule on the collectors. We¡¯ll be done with them early tomorrow at this rate.


    Must be a good day.

 Tue 12/05 17:04:11 ICT

    It¡¯s nearly sunset when the rain hits. It¡¯s like it comes out of nowhere; it was sunny just a few minutes ago. Now the canvas roof sings with the constant downpour. Buckets of water stream down around the sides of the cover. We¡¯re supposed to be in the dry season, so I don¡¯t expect this to last long and I welcome the deluge as a pleasant change. It doesn¡¯t take long before the mugginess seems to double, and I find myself wishing for the sunny skies again.


    The Geologist girls are squealing as they get drenched trying to get their deck roof up, so I reach over with my cloud and help them get it situated. I pause construction for a moment and check to make sure everything is stowed and everyone is under cover on all the boats. Most of our gear is designed for this, so there doesn¡¯t end up being too much to do. The only person I¡¯m at all worried about is Thao, who is off on one of the speedboats getting our dinner, but I figure he knows what he¡¯s doing.


    Keeya laughs, drawing my attention to her.


    ¡°This reminds me of the rainy season back home,¡± she says. ¡°But that can last for days. Do you think that will be the case here?¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be,¡± I answer, looking up weather patterns in my index. ¡°At least not at this time of year. If what I¡¯ve read is right, then this shouldn¡¯t last long.¡±


    We get back to work, the clattering din of the falling water surrounding us. It only lasts ten minutes before it starts to let up, then it fades away to nothing as if it were never there. The sky turns a beautiful red with the sun almost down and now there¡¯s hardly a cloud in sight.


    Lucie seems to take an interest in our work now that the distraction of the rain is gone.


    ¡°So do you both build together?¡± she asks. ¡°Or do you take turns? I just see them growing from nothing so quickly.¡±


    Chad gets his pedantic big brother voice on and explains our assembly line, with him heroically pulling the critical minerals in from the huge area all around us, and Steph and me helping out with the little things like assembling them into the collectors and putting them into the water. He doesn¡¯t mention that his job is almost entirely automated and all he had to do was tell his bots where to drop the stuff when we started. Not that my part is super complicated, but I at least have to manually kick off each build. Steph has the task that requires the most attention, but he barely acknowledges her role. I should give her some praise when we¡¯re done. Her cloud isn¡¯t huge, but she¡¯s got a lot of finesse and is extremely efficient. Her gesture scheme reminds me of Andrea¡¯s, with subtle finger motions doing most of the work. It¡¯s a stark contrast from the one Phil and Stan created that seems to prefer big arm motions.


    Thao arrives with packages of food stowed under a waterproof cover in the back of the boat. His clothes are still soaked from the rain, but he doesn¡¯t seem to mind. I open my package of rice noodles with vegetables and meat. Steph mentions that the rain cooled hers down, but Thao explains that it¡¯s supposed to be served at room temperature. Works for me. I don¡¯t think the warm rain cooled anything off, and having a cool meal seems nice. Thao also stocks the fridge with more drinks and paper-wrapped packages before he heads along to the next cat.


    With Keeya and Lucie out here, Steph seems a little more open. Probably helps that she doesn¡¯t feel outnumbered by her oldest brothers anymore. She chats with them while we work. Lucie tells some funny stories about her boarding school in Johannesburg. Keeya tops them with her adventures in the orphanage on the edge of the bush. I¡¯m a little confused by her terminology for a few minutes until the context makes it clear that by ¡°the bush¡± she doesn¡¯t mean just one bush, she¡¯s talking about the whole desert area out away from the cities in her home country of Botswana. The way she tells it, they got up to some serious shenanigans. I don¡¯t do a polygraph setup on her, since I¡¯m keeping my focus on the construction, but even though some of her stories seem impossible, she seems sincere. Most of them seem to center around a big, dangerous animal they weren¡¯t supposed to go near, but they did anyway but ended up barely escaping with their lives.


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    Steph asks how she went from being an orphan to helping to run an operation like Chad¡¯s. I¡¯m a little curious too. Her file is thin on details on everything before college for her.


    ¡°The nuns who ran my orphanage came from many different countries,¡± Keeya says, counting them off on her fingers. ¡°United States, Zimbabwe, Kenya, Angola, and Botswana. I learned quickly that I could get special favors if I learned to speak some words of their own language. Sister Mudiwa always carried sweets and would give me one if I greeted her in Shona. Sister Penelope would let me have more play time if I asked her in English. Sister Ayona, who did the cooking, would put sugar in my porridge if I would write her a note in Swahili. I came to love learning languages so much that I could speak, read, and write eight of them by the time I was twelve years old. If anyone who spoke a new language came to the orphanage, I would make them teach it to me.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Steph says. ¡°That¡¯s amazing.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Keeya says modestly. ¡°One of the Jesuits who would visit the orphanage from time to time took notice of me and helped me get into a very good secondary school in Gaborone. He got for me a scholarship, and he even found the money to pay the rest of my expenses. Father John was a very good man. He was American, but with dark skin, like you.¡±


    She smiles at Steph.


    ¡°So how did you get involved with us?¡± Steph asks, returning the smile.


    ¡°I studied hard and did very well in school, so well that I was accepted to the University of Botswana in Gaborone. I was learning about business administration there. Father John continued to help me until he passed away. Without his help, I did not have the money to continue my education, but I learned from a professor about a job that paid very well and did not even require that I graduate. I filled out the papers, then I did interviews on the computer, and now here I am.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m glad you are part of the team,¡± Chad chimes in. ¡°Keeya is great, Steph. She coordinates the work for twelve of my ground agents, making sure that when I go in to take care of a village or city, everything is ready for me. She¡¯s always handy to do translation for me and seems to know almost every language. She¡¯s also great company whenever I can get back to whichever city she is staying in.¡±


    Lucie, not to be outdone, shares her own story. Unsurprisingly, she was also gifted and broke. Her father moved her family from France to South Africa in hopes of making a fortune on some mining scheme. It started out great, but then collapsed when the mine he bought turned out to only have a single good vein. They went from very well off to wondering where their next meal was coming from within a year, with a mountain of unpayable debt trapping them. Lucie had to drop out of college and needed funds fast. I¡¯m sure that the genetic contributor payout appealed to her circumstance at least as much as the generous salary of the job.


    I can¡¯t blame these women for wanting to cash in. It¡¯s not their fault for being caught in terrible situations and only seeing one way out. My problem is Chad, like our Father, taking advantage of them with this predatory bullshit. We¡¯ll never solve all the world¡¯s problems if we stay reliant on the broken systems that produce these kinds of situations.


    Mom, we¡¯re going to have to think about this. Maybe Father¡¯s master plan doesn¡¯t go far enough.

 Wed 12/06 06:05:41 ICT

    I poke around the small fridge, deciding what to eat. Hmm, sandwich for breakfast? Sure, why not. I open the paper wrapping and take a bite of the banh mi sandwich. According to my index, having them for the morning meal is a normal thing here. It tastes good and fills me up, so I can¡¯t complain. I should still have a while before Andrea¡¯s music starts. I settle in at the table and check mail while I eat.


    Lin is so cute. I don¡¯t mean physically. I mean, she¡¯s that too. But her letters are always so clever and funny and have this special innocence to them. A side effect of being a genius mostly raised in quarantine, I guess.


    I¡¯m a little stumped on what to tell her about this morning. Other than the family drama involving Chad, which I don¡¯t really want to spill her way, yesterday was pretty uneventful. We built things, we dropped them in the river. Then we did it some more. Instead, I scrape through the index entries I put together when I visited my grandparents and tell her more about my life growing up. I¡¯m still spewing text into the tablet when the beat starts throbbing from Andrea¡¯s boat. I wrap up my message and go see if my brothers want to join in today.


    Evan¡¯s already getting dressed when I go to grab him. I don¡¯t take Marc¡¯s no for an answer today, and drag him along to exercise with us. He doesn¡¯t protest too much once he¡¯s out of bed. Everyone from yesterday is out again today, with Stan along from the boy¡¯s boat as well. If this picks up any more, we¡¯re going to have to make some kind of expansion to the deck that we can all fit on.


    Stretch.


    Pose.


    Hold.


    I can tell which of my sibs never did this before this week. The first timers are clearly hurting, but to their credit, they¡¯re all sticking with it. It¡¯s hard to argue with Andrea¡¯s encouraging expression and smile. She¡¯s just so good at making this look easy and fun, and for people like Stan that can¡¯t seem to get the poses right on the first try, her floating outlines of where your body parts should be make it easy to see exactly how to get it perfect.


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    Stan is staring at Keeya and Lucie again. I¡¯m not sure what his fixation is. I don¡¯t have anything in my electronic memory about him being creepy with the nannies or staff back home. Of course for all I know, maybe he was and I just didn¡¯t write anything about it down. One more time a real memory would be nice to have again. Not sure what to do about it though. Should I pull Chad into morning exercises? I don¡¯t think Stan would dare to do it if he were around. No, I don¡¯t want to reinforce Chad¡¯s weird possessiveness. I¡¯m trying to figure out what to do about him when I feel a cluster of bots swarm past him. I turn on the identifier overlay just in time to see that they belong to Louise. I¡¯m not sure what she did to him inside that personal space bubble where I don¡¯t have my bots go, but whatever it was causes him to lose his balance and fall face-first onto the deck.


    To Louise: Nicely done.


    She gives me a smile and a nod. Stan gets an embarrassed look on his face. When he gets back to his feet, he cuts it out.


    I¡¯m not surprised that Stan is totally objectifying them. Honestly, with the way my brothers were raised and who they were raised by, I¡¯m more surprised that they¡¯re not all total creeps.


    Andrea lets us go and I take stock of where we are on the collectors. Looks like we got a ton done yesterday. We¡¯re down to just a few more crates of control boards, so we¡¯ll be done with them by lunchtime if we keep up the same pace as yesterday. That should give us a good chunk of the afternoon off before we need to split up to install the first set of filters.


    I should build with the Geologist girls on their boat this morning. I still feel like I barely know some of them and this is a good opportunity to spend some quality time with them.


    The quick rinse in the shower is refreshing, though with the humidity I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s even worth the effort, since I¡¯m sweating again right away anyway. I hope I get used to this constant mugginess one of these days.

 Wed 12/06 13:51:06 ICT

    I spend my free afternoon catching up with Alan on the administrivia back on campus and syncing up with the PR team about the Phnom Penh press event. Sheryl is a good sport about working late, since it''s getting near midnight over there by now. There are a couple of tweaks I want to make based on how things went in Ho Chi Minh City, but we got enough done for today. The event will be a lot like the last one: we''ll do a show and tell about the filter technology and make sure everyone has a warm fuzzy about our work in Cambodia. We still won''t be there for several more days, but it''s good to be ready.


    I lean back in my chair and glance through the cabin window at the Geologist girls¡¯ boat. Working with them this morning was good. They''re all doing well and getting familiar with running their clouds. All of them use the same control system as Steph, which makes me think  both that Andrea helped them develop it and that there''s a boys-versus-girls thing going on with their cohort. Hopefully, this trip will bring them all together, but I should make sure that we integrate them together on more of the work. Not that it matters for the next few days, since the younger guys are all going with Chad¡¯s group when the river splits.


    I feel Chad getting ready for that now, pulling one of the crates of filter control boards over to the deck of his cat. Thao and Mek bring up in one of the speedboats and moor it to the back of Chad¡¯s cat. I guess it worked out well that Chad kept a room empty. Those two will have a proper room instead of sleeping on the deck like we¡¯d originally planned. It looks like they¡¯re nearly ready to split off, so I get up and jet over to Chad¡¯s deck.


    ¡°You guys all set?¡± I ask Chad as I land.


    ¡°Just about,¡± he says, settling a crate against the railing of his deck and binding it there with a glance. He looks over at Phil, Stan, and Erik doing something similar on their deck.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see you in Cambodia, then,¡± I tell him. ¡°Take care of the guys.¡±


    To Chad: And have that talk with Keeya and Lucie, please.


    ¡°Yeah, I will,¡± he answers, and the look he gives me tells me it¡¯s a response to both requests. I want to yell at him for not doing it already, but I know that won¡¯t help.


    I take a bot-assisted leap back to my deck. The two cats split off from our small fleet and veer left up the tributary that will take them to the Hau River. Everyone in both groups waves goodbye.


    From Louise: Are you sure letting him go off with Keeya and Lucie is a good idea? I think we were making really good progress with them.


    To Louise: It was planned like this months ago, and he¡¯s insisting that we stick to it. Says it¡¯s the only way he¡¯ll find a good chance to talk with Keeya and Lucie.


    From Louise: I don¡¯t like this at all.


    To Louise: Me neither, but it¡¯s not like we can really stop him.


    She looks my way and nods. Neither of us is very happy about it. We didn¡¯t expect any of this drama when we set up the plans, and it¡¯s not like we could get him to leave his girlfriends behind.


    From Louise: Well, they¡¯re both on their periods right now so it¡¯s not like we¡¯re in imminent danger.


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    To Louise: I¡¯m not going to ask how you know that, but I¡¯ll take it.


    From Louise: Girls talk.


    We¡¯ve got the drop site for our first filter coming up in a bit. Might as well get it built.


    ¡°Hey, everyone,¡± I call out, amplifying my voice with the bots enough that everyone should be able to hear. ¡°These filters are a lot more picky about their materials and an awful lot bigger than the collectors. I¡¯ll do the build, but I¡¯d like everyone else to pull resources, please.¡±


    I turn on my overlay and see swarms of my siblings¡¯ bots spreading out, sinking into the soil of the banks on both sides and venturing into the thick vegetation beyond. Before long, thin streams of minerals come coursing back, piling onto the deck. I kick off the build and layer after microscopic layer of machinery start laying themselves out. Tubes and connectors and tanks slowly materialize. The design for these things is a total masterpiece, and I¡¯m not just saying that because of the role I had in creating them.


    A big chunk of the dev team spent most of the year working out the kinks on them, and they filled big parts of my days for months. I¡¯m still amazed we worked out the long-term maintenance issues without needing bots to scrub the filtering pieces, which wouldn¡¯t have worked with them submerged in polluted water full of electrolytes. But we got it eventually. We had to pull in experts from a whole lot of fields, several of whom started with the idea that what we were trying to pull off was impossible. Turns out it wasn¡¯t impossible, just totally cost prohibitive using conventional manufacturing techniques. With our nanotech construction technology, that wasn¡¯t an issue.


    Carefully convoluted tangles of tanks and tubes continue to form. The whole thing will weigh close to ten tons when it¡¯s done, and much more than that when its tanks fill up. The stream of materials from my sibs is coming almost as fast as I can assemble it into the machine. When it¡¯s done, it will contain not just the filtering technology, but also the mechanical and chemical apparatuses to separate every significant pollutant that we expect to see in this water and pack them up in safe, sealed casks. The rest of what flows through the system, the non-toxic sediment and the water, will get released back into the river.


    I feel the subtle shifting of the cat under my feet as the weight from the construction near the back of the boat tilts the deck in that direction. I hear the pump kick on at the front end of the cat, filling a counterweight over there with water to keep us from capsizing.


    The water that the filter produces when activated even in the most disgusting and polluted conditions is safe enough to drink. We tested it in the most vile and toxic filth we could imagine and it worked for a month without any issues, producing a steady flow of clean water and an awful lot of casks. Marcus even drank some of the filtered output, he was that confident. I didn¡¯t do that quality control personally. Sometimes you have to trust your team. And the filter does it all without any significant damage to any of the plants or wildlife. I look over at my younger siblings. I wish they could appreciate what we¡¯ve created here, but they¡¯re just looking bored as they wait for the construction to get done.


    The catamaran is nearly a meter lower in the water by the time it¡¯s finished. The dev team did a good job making sure we could handle these massive builds.


    ¡°All hands on deck for getting this thing moved,¡± I call out. ¡°Use the rollers underneath, please. Push, don¡¯t lift. Just like we practiced.¡±


    The giant machine begins to slide towards the ramp. Gently, carefully we move it along and watch it slide into the water. The boat rocks as the controller drains the counterweight. The base of the filter will burrow into the river floor, anchoring itself firmly. A pair of flexible intake tendrils start floating up to the surface, each one with hundreds of pores that can pull water in but can¡¯t suck up anything too big to handle. Underwater, I know dozens more span the depth of the river, letting the filter work on pollutants of all densities from the floaters to the sinkers.


    I¡¯m sure it¡¯s probably just because they¡¯re glad the first build is done, but someone starts a round of applause and I join in. I clap not for us and this build today, but for the work of the small army of designers, engineers, and coders over the last year that made this thing possible. I make a note to congratulate them next chance I get.


    Good work, team.

 Thu 12/07 14:11:47 ICT

    We have some free time between installs, so we can do a little extra credit work. Even though a lot of the country¡¯s power comes from renewables like the wind installations they have here in the delta and the dams we¡¯ll be seeing upstream, they still import and burn a pretty significant amount of oil and coal. The towns that line the sides of the river are easy targets for cutting back the fossil fuels they use here.


    The dense foliage along the river banks makes our old ground-based solar installations unworkable here, but the devs think that they figured out a solution that should be effective. Time to give it a shot.


    BUILD(POWER_POLE)


    I feel my bots putting together a pole that extends deep into the ground near the shoreline and stretches up above the trees. It blends into the scenery at ground level but darkens and thickens as it reaches above the treeline. The surface of the pole up above the treetops should collect heat from the sun and ambient heat from the air. The guts inside the thing uses thermoelectric generation to produce power from the heat differential between the cold deep underground and the warmer pole-top and store it in the batteries that make up the core of the pole. Simple, no moving parts, doesn¡¯t take up a lot of space, and provides a pretty reliable source of electricity. All the people need to do is connect it to their house or anything else on the grid and they¡¯ll cut their reliance on external power significantly. We¡¯ll have representatives coming through here and doing demonstrations and training sessions at each nearby town over the next few days so they¡¯ll know how to tap their new free resource.


    The best part is that we can build these with locally available materials without ever leaving the boats. They build fast enough that even the Geologists with their smaller clouds can get one done in the time it takes to pass a point on the shore. So, when we don¡¯t have anything else going on, we should just be able to pop these guys up every few meters all along the shore.


    Evan sees what I¡¯m doing, and gives me a nod. He recruits Andrea, Louise, Marc, and the Geologist girls to start building too. Everyone piles across the walkways between the cats onto the deck of our boat, bringing chairs along with them. Some locals on a small fishing boat near the shoreline who clearly haven¡¯t heard of us look at us with confusion, pointing as they see us all sitting and staring at the shorelines while the poles grow up from the ground. Hmm, maybe we didn¡¯t do enough local outreach. We should get the trainers in here sooner than later. I¡¯ll talk to Alan about it.


    It¡¯s nice sitting on the shaded deck with a drink in my hand and my favorite siblings around me, letting my bots improve the world as we float on by. I¡¯m really enjoying the break from the Chad issues. I know we¡¯ll have to deal with them when we link back up, but for now there¡¯s a little relief in knowing there¡¯s nothing I can do about it until then. This is more like how I envisioned this trip going.


    Marc starts telling us about the time that he and Andrea wanted a snack late at night and broke into the cafeteria kitchen. They got freaked out when the alarm went off and decided to hide inside the walk-in freezer. Fortunately, the security crew found them before they got too cold. I look and find the story already in my index, but my special brain means that it was still as funny hearing it again as it was the first time.


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    The weather and scenery are absolutely gorgeous here. The air has cooled a little as we¡¯ve moved inland, and the humidity doesn¡¯t seem so bad at all anymore. We haven¡¯t seen any rain since that one little storm. This trip is starting to feel like a nice vacation even with the work we¡¯re doing.


    Lisa grabs her tablet and a pair of speakers from her cat and puts on some music. We¡¯re just enjoying the sunset and the tunes when Mai comes back with dinner. The warm soup is perfect for dinner. We all sit around slurping up the rice noodles from the broth in our cups, taking turns building poles, talking, and laughing.


    I really like the Geologist class girls, I¡¯m glad we got them on the split. Jen and Becky took a while to get comfortable and start talking in front of me, but since they got going they¡¯ve been total chatterboxes. Lisa is getting a tutorial on the musical potential of bots from Andrea as they augment the music with some additional beats and an ethereal descant. Steph, Evan, Louise, and Valerie are deep into a conversation about whether medical bots could be stored indefinitely in the bloodstream for emergency self-healing. Sounds like a cool idea. I¡¯ve barely played with the medical bots at all. Getting more practice with those would be worthwhile if we keep having free time like this. I create a task to remind myself to get Evan and Louise to give me some medical bot training.


    We go on like this for another couple of hours before it¡¯s time to start gathering for the next filter build. We clear off the deck and build another one of our technological marvels, dropping it in the river when it¡¯s done.


    ¡°Question for you, sister,¡± I say to Louise when we settle back into our chairs on the deck. ¡°You¡¯ve seen Chad drinking, right? I don¡¯t think Father ever did, at least not that I ever wrote down. Was that just him? Or was he worried about mixing booze and bots?¡±


    She takes a sip of her soda before answering.


    ¡°I think that was just him,¡± she says. ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard, he was a lifelong teetotaler. I¡¯m not too worried about interactions with alcohol and the bots unless Chad starts getting totally sloshed, but he seems like he just has a beer or two. Should be fine if he keeps it to that level.¡±


    I nod and build another power pole.


    ¡°I guess Chad with a couple of drinks in him isn¡¯t all that much worse than standard Chad,¡± I say.


    ¡°But we probably should keep an eye on him, make sure he stays away from anything harder than beer, and that he doesn''t get hammered. Even just being standard drunk is a problem when you have superpowers. Honestly, not sure why he bothers. Wouldn¡¯t be hard to put together a brain chemistry trigger that gives you the same effect.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of that, you still hit the old dopamine trigger these days?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I found other ways of coping. You?¡±


    ¡°Not since I decided to take that midnight swim.¡±


    She puts a hand on my arm. ¡°You seem like you¡¯re doing better since then.¡±


    ¡°I am better. Or at least I¡¯m trying to be. I talk to my Mom sometimes. Or write to her, in the console. Seems to help a lot. Does that make me crazy?¡±


    ¡°Crazy is as crazy does, right? If it¡¯s working, and it seems to be, go with it. Your long-distance crush seems to have something to do with your improvement too, or am I reading that wrong?¡±


    She lifts her hand and puts up another power pole.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re right,¡± I tell her. ¡°I know it¡¯s not your typical relationship, but at the very least she gives me something to look forward to every day. Maybe more. Hopefully more.¡±


    ¡°I wish you all the best with it,¡± she says. ¡°And if she breaks your heart, I can always put that tumor back.¡±


    I laugh and put up another pole.

 Fri 12/08 06:07:16 ICT

    My Dearest Noah,


    In just a few short weeks you will be here! I can¡¯t bear the wait. I am inconsolate in my anticipation. My only distraction is helping my father organize the conference at the estate while you¡¯ll be visiting us. I haven¡¯t seen the full guest list yet, but some of the confirmed names are quite interesting and influential. Yesterday my father put me in charge of planning the menus for the event. It seems that it will be quite the gathering.


    Do you have any favorite hors d''oeuvres? I want to make this as special for you as I can. It can be anything: Chinese, American, or whatever you want. Just let me know soon. The estate is quite remote and I need to start ordering posthaste.


    Your Love,


    Lin


    Normally I¡¯d hurry and answer her, but there¡¯s another email from her with the names of the attendees that she knows about so far. My index says I¡¯ve heard of a few of them, but it might be a good idea for me to get informed about the rest. I send the list of names to Alan so he can have the team back home do some research for me. It¡¯s always better to go into something like that prepared.


    I¡¯m more excited for the conference than I thought I would be. It should give us a rare chance to see what other people working in the field are up to. I make a note to ask my siblings about them too when they¡¯re awake, especially Louise. She¡¯s always reading the latest journals on this stuff. I also like the idea that there will be some more crowd cover for Lin and me. I figure we¡¯re a lot more likely to get some time to slip off alone without being noticed if it¡¯s not just her and her father there.


    No sooner do I get my morning email session done when I hear Andrea¡¯s pulsating beat. All the siblings in our part of the fleet are in for morning exercises. Once that¡¯s done, we take turns putting in poles and getting showered. We¡¯ll keep a few of us on pole duty from here to Phnom Penh, lining the river with free power. If we did the math right and the locals put in the effort to connect to all the poles, we should be effectively removing Vietnam¡¯s coal import needs on this trip. That was one of the concerns we heard about when we were getting permission for this trip. Fortunately, industry lobbying isn¡¯t really a thing in Vietnamese politics and the Cambodians were just excited to get some of these rural areas electrified at all, so we didn¡¯t get much organized pushback from any of the folks making money off of burning coal.


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    Leftover soup for breakfast is just as good the second day.


    The border is coming up. Hopefully, all of our arrangements are in place. Bora and Akara get up ahead of us on the speedboat and will meet us at the checkpoint. In the meantime, the next filter is almost ready. I form rollers underneath it and slide it into the water.


    ¡°You got the next one, girls,¡± I call over to the Geologist contingent.


    ¡°All on our own?¡± Jen asks nervously.


    Becky chimes in, ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and yes,¡± I reassure them. ¡°You can do it, just pick one of you to coordinate the build and use the library functions for collaboration.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on it, come help me,¡± Steph declares confidently. She¡¯s been stepping up more as a leader since the boys left. I think this is good for them. Phil and Stan¡¯s outsized personalities seem to overwhelm the girls when they¡¯re around and this gives them some breathing room to take charge.


    The build goes smoothly with Louise and I pulling materials for them as Evan and Andrea continue to put up poles. We deposit it just before we hit the border.


    Bora and Akara are over at the small wooden dock of the border station with a pair of uniformed officials in clean, white shirts. They all get onto our speedboat and motor over. Tying the speedboat to the back of the cat, Bora helps the border agents up the steps to the deck where we¡¯re all gathered. They act like they¡¯re teenagers meeting their favorite movie stars. There¡¯s a nominal checking of passports and visas then a whole bunch of pictures that we smile through. Bora translates their gushing excitement at meeting us and their request to see us do something with our nanobots. Andrea obliges them with a dance of her fingers that weaves a Cambodian flag out of thin air, waves it, then lets it disappear. They clap like it was the greatest show they¡¯d ever seen.


    Once they¡¯re satisfied, the agents load back on the speedboat and Akara returns them to the dock.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Bora apologizes. ¡°They really wanted to meet you. This trip is very important for my country. The pollution from up the river has been very bad for us. The government has been telling everyone for months that you would save all of our farms.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem, it¡¯s kind of fun feeling famous,¡± I tell him.


    I can see why they¡¯d be emotionally invested in our project. Cambodia is highly dependent on agriculture and the pollution in the river has been especially devastating for them. I lean over the railing and take a good look at the water below. The water remains a foul brown even now that we¡¯re well beyond the muddy delta area. The darkness in the water is all pollution at this point.


    We can fix this, Mom. This is my life now, solving things like this. I know I¡¯ll never make up for the lives I¡¯ve taken and ruined, but this is the best I can do. You would be proud of me if you saw me now, right Mom?

 Sat 12/09 13:24:41 ICT

    Another mellow day. We just need to keep popping poles and dropping a filter every few hours. My reminder goes off to talk to Louise and Evan about the medical bots, so I leave Steph in charge of construction and head over to Louise¡¯s boat where she, Valerie, and Evan are chatting on the deck.


    ¡°Got a few minutes to teach me medicine?¡± I ask. They all respond by laughing at me.


    ¡°By that do you mean you want training on the medical bots?¡± Louise asks once she stops laughing.


    ¡°Yeah, what else would you think I meant?¡±


    ¡°Well, medicine is pretty broad. We¡¯ve been talking about medical issues for most of the last week if you haven¡¯t noticed. Valerie studied it for years. I¡¯ve been focused on it almost exclusively since Father died. It¡¯s just funny when you show up and sound like you expect to learn it all in one session.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°Let me try that again. Will you show me how to sync with medical bots and do some basic first aid?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she says. ¡°That¡¯s something we can do in one afternoon. Evan, you want to get him synced and I¡¯ll teach him wound closure?¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Evan says, getting up and leading me into the cabin. He opens the cupboard and pulls out one of the pure white cylinders the size of a tuna can that hold the medical bots.


    ¡°The natural state of these guys is dormant in the box,¡± he explains. ¡°That keeps them sterile and ready for use. They¡¯re not much good if they¡¯re dirty. Introducing infection is about as bad as leaving a wound open, so don¡¯t go flying them around all over. Get them to the patient, then get them back to sleep in their home.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡±


    He pops open the box.


    ¡°The boxes are rigged to give them a wake-up signal when it opens. The bots will start sending out beacon signals, looking for an owner. You just need to issue the console command ¡®sync medical¡¯, and any nearby unowned medical bots will sync with your implant.¡±


    SYNC MEDICAL


    A set of new feelings open up to me. They¡¯re different from the regular worker bots that I¡¯m used to, but it¡¯s hard to describe how they¡¯re different. Bluer? Saltier? Floral? Velvety? Words aren¡¯t quite getting it for me.


    ¡°OK, that¡¯s weird.¡±


    Evan laughs.


    ¡°Remember how weird the regular bots were at first?¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s not any weirder than that.¡±


    ¡°No, this is totally weirder. The normal bots feel like feels. Does that make sense? Like tactile sensations, extra skin that I can feel through. These are crossing sensory boundaries for me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s synesthesia involved in using them, I think Father designed it that way. It¡¯s because they have a lot more sensory capabilities than the normal bots. You get used to it pretty quick, though. You can ignore most of it for now and move them around like workers.¡±


    I navigate them into a spherical formation, creating a tiny dot I can barely see. I turn on the overlay and they brighten up. Better. I try to ignore the non-flavor tastes and odorless smells.


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    ¡°OK, Louise,¡± Evan declares. ¡°He¡¯s ready for you.¡±


    Evan heads back out to the deck and Louise comes into the cabin and walks to the sink in the kitchen area. She unbuttons the left sleeve of the flowy red blouse she¡¯s wearing. She picks up a small knife from a drawer and turns her left arm palm up. Without a word, she slices the blade across her forearm, leaving a shallow gash.


    I try not to show the internal freak-out I¡¯m having, first from the cut, then as I notice the neat row of thin white scars every millimeter or two going from the middle of her forearm where she just cut all the way down to her wrist. I¡¯ve never seen those before. There must be a hundred at least.


    ¡°First one¡¯s on me,¡± she says. ¡°Any more and you¡¯re going to need to learn the joy of cutting.¡± Her tone turns serious as she sees my eyes scan down her arm. ¡°And don¡¯t even think about judging me. You don¡¯t have a monopoly on self-loathing. I deal with mine my own way. And I got a useful education in the process.¡±


    She¡¯s right. I¡¯ve got no room to talk. I pull my eyes up from her arm to her face.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m a jerk. I was so wrapped up in my own issues I didn¡¯t even think about how you were dealing with it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she says matter-of-factly. ¡°We¡¯re both doing well now, right?¡±


    ¡°Right. Better, anyway.¡±


    The blood slowly oozing up from the cut is starting to bead into droplets.


    ¡°Good enough,¡± she says. ¡°Now, close the wound before I start dripping blood all over. Direct the bots with your eyes like when you¡¯re building and use the suture command.¡±


    SUTURE


    I feel the medical bots swarm from their sterile box to the cut where I have my gaze centered.


    ¡°Carefully, now. Start at one end of the cut, then move them across to the other.¡±


    ¡°On it,¡± I say, as I start to work the bots as quickly and carefully as I can across her wound. They close the cut and do something that feels like the static screen on the old television set in Grammy¡¯s basement. I had forgotten about that thing. I used to watch cartoons on it from a box of old plastic tapes that they had. The constantly scrambling field of black and white speckles would come on until you loaded the tape in. I index the memory while the bots continue working.


    ¡°Good,¡± Louise says. ¡°You can go a little faster than that.¡± I speed up a little. ¡°Perfect, just like that.¡±


    The wound finishes closing as my gaze reaches the far end of the cut. Louise rinses off the blood with a small antiseptic pad, then examines the pink line where the cut was.


    ¡°Seems like magic, right? It¡¯s not. The bots can¡¯t actually heal anything. Only the cells themselves can do that. But the bots can get things under control, stop bleeding, and situate things optimally for the body to heal itself. In a day or two that line will be just like the others. Make sure that when you do this for real, whoever¡¯s wound you¡¯re sealing keeps the area clean and bandages, and use some antiseptic if you have it handy.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± I say. ¡°Thanks. You really didn¡¯t have to use your own arm for this.¡±


    ¡°I know. But it¡¯s therapeutic for me.¡± She rubs some kind of ointment from one of the medical cabinets on her arm, then tapes a small gauze pad over the closed wound.  ¡°If it hadn¡¯t been for this teachable moment, I probably would have done it myself some time this week. I was about due.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d express concern,¡± I tell her, ¡°but I really have no room to talk.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she agrees firmly. ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡± She rolls her sleeve back down and buttons it at her wrist. ¡°But I¡¯ll tell you this much about it anyway. When I gave up on self-medicating with the implant, I needed something else. This worked for me. There¡¯s something pure about the pain. Something clean. I need that now and then.¡±


    I get it. I get the need to feel the physical pain, to externalize the hurt from the inside, even if I don¡¯t feel the same compulsion anymore since my suicide attempt. Louise is brilliant, channeling that need into something useful like this.


    ¡°You¡¯re amazing, Louise,¡± I tell her. ¡°You know that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve thought so for a while,¡± she says with a smile. ¡°But don¡¯t go telling everyone or I¡¯ll get nothing but praise and end up as cocky as Chad. This goes on the list of things you and I don¡¯t talk to anyone else about. Are we clear?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I tell her. ¡°Secret keepers forever, you and me.¡±


    I pick up the box for the medical bots and direct them back to their home before I disconnect from them. I feel the warmth in my hands as the sterilizer built into the box does its thing, annihilating any germs they might have carried along with them. Louise nods approvingly as I stow them back in the cupboard.

 Sun 12/10 06:17:04 ICT

    The sunlight coming in through the window wakes me. The rocking reminds me that I¡¯m on a boat. Cambodia. Right. I¡¯ve got reading to do.


    I notice a different feel in the gentle motion of the boat on the river this morning, and the normal hum of the electric motors is missing. My cloud spreads out and I feel the city of Phnom Penh where we must have docked while I was sleeping.


    ¡°Hey, Evan,¡± I say, looking over at my sleeping brother.


    He mumbles something and puts his pillow over his head.


    ¡°Hey, Evan,¡± I say again.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± he groans, pulling the pillow down and giving me a groggy stare.


    ¡°We¡¯re meeting a king today,¡± I remind him. ¡°That¡¯s kind of cool. I never met a king before.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± he says, rolling over and pulling the pillow back over his head.


    Whatever. He doesn¡¯t have to be excited about it. I hit the head and get ready for the day. Andrea must not be running exercises this morning, or I¡¯d have heard the beat already. I almost grab breakfast from the fridge by reflex, but stop myself. I¡¯ll see if anyone wants to get something at a restaurant on shore before I eat.


    Email, then.


    Alan is using the list I sent him and also working on figuring out who all else might be at General Liu¡¯s tech conference. The names he¡¯s got so far ding around my index and seem to be a who¡¯s who of everyone doing serious nanotech research. Tech entrepreneurs, big industry people, and academics are all included on the list. The only one of them I¡¯ve met is Antonio Campos, but I¡¯m pretty sure he would have said something to us if he had been invited. I scrape the preliminary info from the profiles Alan attached to the email into my index. It¡¯s not comprehensive at all, but I should be able to greet them all by name now and have enough facts handy to flatter any of them with how I¡¯ve been following their work.


    Sheryl¡¯s message has the final itinerary and agenda for our press event today. We¡¯ll have some time for sightseeing this morning before it starts. We¡¯ve got the show and tell with the press in the afternoon, then a formal dinner with the dignitaries. She has rooms booked for us at the hotel that¡¯s hosting the event, so we can just head to our rooms when it¡¯s done.


    Grammy and Gramps are fine and want me to tell them more about the trip, so I do, though there¡¯s not a lot to tell lately.


    Lin¡¯s got a couple of messages waiting for me. Standard stuff, updates and affection. I fire back, tell her about my day yesterday, and ask if she can video chat tomorrow morning. I should have time, privacy, and a good internet connection around the time that Yang Song goes on her morning run. I hope she can work it on her side. I miss talking to her.


    Evan is out and showered by the time I¡¯m done working on the tablet. Marc is just getting up.


    ¡°You guys want breakfast in town or on the boat?¡± I ask.


    ¡°In town,¡± Evan says and Marc mumbles something affirmative as he heads to the bathroom.


    I step out onto the deck. Akara is out on her deck right alongside ours.


    ¡°Hey, Akara,¡± I greet her. ¡°What time did we get in?¡±


    ¡°Good morning, Noah. About three hour ago. You want to eat on boat or go eat out? I know very good place in town.¡±


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    ¡°Eating in town sounds great. All three of us are up for going out for breakfast, let me check with the others.¡±


    With a bot-assisted jump I hop over to Louise¡¯s boat in the next berth. The cabin door is open and I poke my head in.


    ¡°Breakfast outing in a few?¡± I call out.


    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± comes Louise¡¯s sleepy voice from one of the bedrooms.


    I reach out and check that the other half of our fleet, Chad¡¯s and the boys¡¯ boats, are also docked here. I find them moored not far from us. Feels like everyone is still asleep on both cats. I make the rounds and rouse everyone to see if they want in on breakfast. No one turns me down.


    A little while later, Akara leads the way to a small cafe within walking distance of the marina. It doesn¡¯t look like much on the outside, but the smells coming from it are great. The breakfast choices include a few Western options, but Akara recommends a couple of the local dishes. I get the fried rice with pork and eggs. It¡¯s great, but after smelling Evan¡¯s savory rice porridge I think I might have ordered wrong. He lets me snag a bite. Yeah, he definitely won breakfast today.


    Everyone is getting along as we catch up and eat. Chad and the boys got all their filters installed without any issues and some power poles as well. Stan is acting less awkward around Keeya and Lucie. Maybe he actually talked to them and realized they were people. They all seem comfortable sticking together as a big group for the morning, so when we head out Akara offers to lead us all on a sightseeing tour.


    A small fleet of motorcycle-pulled carts are waiting for us outside. I don¡¯t know when Akara arranged them but she tells us to get in, so we do. They have roofs, but no doors or windows. They seat two of us each, and I end up getting in one with Marc somehow. He talks non-stop as we zoom through the streets, but I can¡¯t hear a word of what he¡¯s saying over the sounds of the motorcycle engine and the wind rushing by. If it were anyone else, I¡¯d form a mic so I could hear him, but it¡¯s just Marc so I don¡¯t bother.


    Our first stop is an old buddhist pagoda where Akara ignores the monks in their orange robes and leads us in. One of them greets her by name, which makes me think she¡¯s taken groups on this tour before. She¡¯s definitely in her element here, telling us the history of each of the statues and relics, which ones were damaged by the Khmer Rouge and how they were restored. The views from the top floor are beautiful. The river looks much better from up here than it did from the boats.


    Back on the motorcycle carts, which I hear someone call tuk-tuks, I manage to switch partners and ride with Akara to our next stop. She points out the colonial French architecture on buildings we pass, the bits of Russian influence from when they occupied the city, and the various monuments and what they were built to memorialize. Most of those center around their civil war and the conflicts Cambodia had with the neighboring countries.


    As we get off, she tells me that this stop is the city¡¯s namesake. It¡¯s a small shrine on the top of a hill where, according to legend, an old widow named Penh put four Buddha statues that she found in some boat on the river. The shrine isn¡¯t much to see, but the park around it is nice. Akara talks to one of the vendors with a bicycle cart and gets us a bunch of coconuts to drink from and we stroll the grounds sipping the refreshing juice. The enormous working clock built into the ground is really cool. I can almost see the inspiration just soaking into Andrea. I¡¯m sure some of this is going to come out in her artwork later.


    Another tuk-tuk ride later, and we¡¯re at the central market. The rest of our guides are already there, which is good, because the group splits up naturally and spreads out to check out the booths. It¡¯s a lot like the Vietnamese market in its endless variety of fruits, clothes, jewelry, and everything else you could think of. Sensory overload again, so I turn down the input from the cloud. I find a nice necklace for Lin, a carved bit of jade in a gold setting on a gold chain. The stone isn¡¯t particularly valuable, but it¡¯s carved well in a dragon that reminds me a little of Andrea¡¯s dragon statue, and my bots tell me the gold is pretty good quality. Akara handles the haggling, of course. I see Thao down the way, already laden with bags, trying to keep up with Lisa, Jen, and Becky.


    We still have time before the press event, so we decide to get lunch. I get a small bowl of fried noodles which I don¡¯t regret at all. Erik and Stan are daring each other to try the sun-dried snails, but Phil one-ups them both by getting a mixed order of worms and crickets and taking a big bite. He smiles as he chews then throws the rest away and goes to the stand where I got my noodles and repeats my order. Stan and Erik follow. I chase down my noodles with some grilled slices of sausage that I share with the guys. The meat is sweeter than I expected, but good. We finish lunch with some small fried cakes made from rice flour and chives that Akara recommends. They¡¯re crisp on the outside and chewy on the inside and really good with their sweet and spicy dipping sauce.


    The group reassembles in time for everyone to eat before we have to head to the hotel. Another quick ride on the tuk-tuks and we¡¯re approaching the large colonial building with the decorative modernized pagoda out front. Looks like a nice place.


    Time to meet royalty and reporters.

 Sun 12/10 14:25:21 ICT

    We stop by our rooms first, where a set of more formal clothes are already laid out. I rinse off with a quick shower in a bathroom that¡¯s every bit as fancy as the one in our Ho Chi Minh City hotel, if a little more modern. I grab the dress shirt and start putting myself together. I should really figure out an algorithm to get my bots to tie my tie, it always comes out just a little bit lopsided when I tie it by hand. A memory of Gramps showing me how to tie a tie flashes through my mind and I quickly commit it to my index before I lose it again.


    I¡¯m one of the first siblings to get to the ballroom where the event is being held. The event runner introduces me around to so many people that I can barely keep up even with my index and Bora helping me. I should have waited and come down with some of my sibs so the rush would get spread out across more of us.


    I finally get to meet the king. I was kind of hoping he would have a crown or a sash or a royal presence or something, but he¡¯s just a regular guy in a suit. It¡¯s kind of anticlimactic. I don¡¯t know why I expected anything, it¡¯s not like he has any real power here since the prime minister actually runs the country.


    Eventually, my sibs trickle in and I stop being mobbed by politicians who want a picture with one of Tom Butler¡¯s kids. Someone from the hotel staff gets my attention and tries to ask me what computer we want to hook up to the conference room¡¯s projector. His English isn¡¯t great so I tell Bora to tell him not to worry, we pack our own displays. He looks confused, so I pop up some bot screens and the big model of the filter. The crowd starts quieting and my brothers and sisters filter forward.


    With cameras snapping and flashing, I start the presentation with Bora handling translation. The excitement level is high and every eye is fixed on me. I think leading with the model helped, or maybe the Cambodians are just more into us. Hard to tell. I finish my introduction and pass it along to Evan. As he gets into the details, everyone stays raptly attentive.


    At the end when we do the question and answer session I enjoy getting into the weeds with one of the reporters on how some of the filter parts work. I think I¡¯m losing part of the room though, so I cut myself off. The next few questions are softballs to the younger class members which get us back into the warm fuzzy zone. Eventually we¡¯re done and we have some mingle time before dinner.


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    One of the suited folks that I didn¡¯t bother indexing but I think Bora said was some kind of finance guy sidles up to me.


    ¡°Would you like a girl for your room later, sir?¡± he offers without preamble. ¡°I know some very beautiful ladies who would love your company.¡±


    I almost choke on my drink before I politely decline. He nods and walks away as if he¡¯d never made the offer. I attach a couple of floating eyes on him as he moves to my other siblings. I see him making a similar pitch to Phil.


    To Phil: Don¡¯t even think about it.


    From the guilty look on his face he clearly had been considering it. The last thing we need is a sex scandal, especially in a country as conservative as this one in that area. I end up broadcasting to everyone across the bot channel that we all need to just say no to prostitution. That goes on my list of things I never thought I¡¯d use telepathy for.


    The dinner is catered in the same giant ballroom where we did our presentation. The hotel and catering staff quietly transform it into a formal dining experience while we mix with the dignitaries and other VIPs. I get seated at the same table as the prime minister, which is a little awkward, because I know enough about him and his policies to know that I don¡¯t care for him. But I follow our rule of not talking politics and make it through the meal without causing an international incident.


    More non-memory-worthy conversations with people I¡¯ll never see again fill most of the rest of the evening. The event finally winds down to the point where I can retreat without offending anyone. I sense Chad down the hall, almost to the elevators with Keeya on his arm. I don¡¯t feel Lucie, so she must have stepped out already. Good, he¡¯s being smart enough not to flaunt his unconventional relationships here. Though if my index is right, there are still some people practicing traditional polygamous relationships in the country, even though the practice was outlawed a while back.


    I need to see how his talks with them went. Please Mom, let him have made good choices while he was away from us.


    To Chad: Got a few minutes to chat?


    From Chad: Yeah, let me walk Keeya up. Your room, OK?


    To Chad: Yeah, room 1102. I¡¯ll see you there.

 Sun 12/10 23:26:52 ICT

    From Chad: I¡¯m here.


    I get up and open the door. Chad is a few steps down the hallway heading my way. I beckon him inside and close the door.


    ¡°So, good trip up on your branch of the river?¡± I ask, offering him a water bottle from the fridge.


    He waves it away, so I pop it open and take a sip.


    ¡°Yeah, things went fine,¡± he says, stumbling a little as he takes a seat on the couch. ¡°We got all the filters installed. The guys were good workers, so we even got some power generators in. Not a lot, but some.¡± He leans forward and looks at me. ¡°But none of that is why you wanted to talk tonight, is it?¡±


    Something about the way he¡¯s talking seems a little off, but I can¡¯t quite pinpoint why. Like he¡¯s talking with something in his mouth, but I don¡¯t see anything there. And he¡¯s holding his vowels just a little bit too long. Weird.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± I say, taking another sip of water and settling into the chair perpendicular to the couch. ¡°What¡¯s going on with you and your girlfriends?¡±


    ¡°Girlfriends?¡± he pauses for a second, then chuckles. ¡°Yeah, I guess that¡¯s probably as good a term for them as any.¡±


    ¡°It seemed more polite than any of the alternatives I could think of.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Whatever. I just think of them as my team.¡±


    I try to keep my eyes from rolling, but don¡¯t quite succeed. I¡¯m about to answer when he cuts me off.


    ¡°You know what? I¡¯m sick of the way you and Evan and our sisters have been looking at me, all judgmental. Let me tell you a story, brother,¡± he says, spitting the word out like it has a foul taste. ¡°When I went back to Africa after Father¡¯s funeral, I was in a pretty bad place. I was spending a lot of my day every day with total strangers who I would never see again, and most of the rest of my time all alone moving between work sites.¡±


    I can see he¡¯s intent on getting whatever he wants to say off his chest, so I settle in and let him talk.


    ¡°The only people I had regular contact with were my team, and it wasn¡¯t long before they were everything to me. If I was able to get back to wherever any of my people were staying after I finished my last build of the day, I would. They¡¯d make sure I had good food and lodging. You wouldn¡¯t believe what I¡¯ve had to eat in some places when I had to find my own meals. This one town in Tanzania offered to feed me as thanks for the work I was doing, so they gave me their version of a feast of honor and insisted that I drink right out of a cow¡¯s jugular that they cut open just for me. Worst meal ever.¡±


    He laughs his cocky laugh and looks at me expectantly.


    ¡°For real?¡± I ask, humoring him.


    ¡°No lie. Dave was on duty that day, and he and I had a long talk afterwards.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°So gross. But anyway, Keeya and Lucie were by far the best out of my team. They took care of me better than any of my other handlers. I appreciated them. I respected them. I relied on them And that was it. The whole extent of our relationship those first few months. Then we got to my birthday. They were both in Mbeya that day. You¡¯ve never been there, right?¡±


    He glances at me. Something about his posture seems weird, his shoulders are slouching where every picture I have of him in my index shows him with impeccable posture. Is he extra relaxed for some reason? I can¡¯t tell, since his vitals are a little off all around. His temperature is low and his blood pressure is higher than normal. His face is a little flushed too. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s up with him tonight.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± he answers himself. ¡°Nice town in Tanzania, sits on a lake. The hotel there has clean rooms, good showers, and a stable internet connection, so it had been my hub all that week. Keeya and Lucie insisted that I knock off early that day so they could take me out to celebrate. They even paid for dinner out of pocket and everything. They took me to an American restaurant, a burger place, which is a rare find around that area. Good burger, good fries. I really liked getting regular food when I could, and they knew it. I was legal drinking age that day and Lucie wanted to get me my first beer. You¡¯ve had beer?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°It¡¯s gross the first time. Total acquired taste. But I was with two beautiful women, and they each had one, and I was thirsty, so I drank it. And we talked, and we had fun, and then Keeya had to buy me one, too. And then we talked some more, and they got me another one. And maybe one more after that. I¡¯m not completely sure. I think I might have been a little drunk by then. Then Lucie got a little flirty. Put her hands on me. I liked it. Then Keeya started doing it, too. We went back to the hotel. I had an arm around each of them, mostly for support if I remember right. When we got there, they took me up to my room and I thought they¡¯d go back to theirs. But they didn¡¯t. They came inside.¡±


    He fixes me with a look.


    ¡°They came into my room. This whole thing is what they wanted.¡±


    I nod. My polygraph readings are all over the place for him, but none of it makes me think he¡¯s lying.


    ¡°I know you and Evan have some moral thing going on where you don¡¯t like what Father did for all those women,¡± he says, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°What he offered them. What he gave them. You two are morons. Morons. He changed their lives. Gave them a chance to make a difference. Gave them the means to take care of themselves. Let them make a difference in the world however they wanted when they were done.¡±


    His tone change catches me by surprise. He¡¯s acting like such a dick that it¡¯s almost like old Chad is back now. I try to stay diplomatic. I don¡¯t think pushing back will get me what I need from him.


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    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to come to an agreement on that tonight, Chad. Like I said, I¡¯m just trying to keep Father¡¯s vision on track. I want his plan, the plan that we both believe in, to become a reality.¡±


    ¡°Right, of course you do.¡± His voice drips with obnoxious sarcasm.


    ¡°Look, you can do what you want to do when it doesn¡¯t impact me,¡± I tell him, ¡°but I have to keep the lights on for the Institute. We¡¯ve talked about this. I can show you the accounting if you want, the numbers don¡¯t lie. If you¡¯re going to exercise those childbirth contracts, I need a delay.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he says. ¡°A delay. Glad we¡¯re clear on that.¡±


    His blood pressure is rising, his flushed face is getting more red. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s riling him up.


    ¡°Was that in question?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I thought it was pretty questionable when you sent Louise to go behind my back and try to talk my team out of sleeping with me anymore.¡±


    I take a long sip from the water bottle. There we go, that¡¯s what he¡¯s mad about.


    ¡°No snappy answer? No quick response?¡± he demands angrily.


    I shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want me to say, Chad. Louise wants the Institute to stay solvent too. I gave it to you straight last time we talked. Louise thought that since the decision affected Keeya and Lucie, it was only fair to talk to them about it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure she did. And you had nothing to do with it. I see you pulling your puppet strings. Like you think you¡¯re the king of everything.¡± His pulse and blood pressure pick up even more.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you think my relationship with Louise is like,¡± I answer, ¡°but if you think I can just tell her what to do, you don¡¯t know either of us very well.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that horseshit,¡± he says, lurching unsteadily towards me. ¡°Your little cabal does whatever stupid shit you tell them to do. You sit around making all the rules then expect the rest of us to just live with your decisions.¡±


    I stare at him incredulously. ¡°Do you know your siblings at all?¡±


    ¡°I know them better than you do. You waltz in, the lost boy, come back home. Act like you belong, like you¡¯re one of us. Like you somehow deserve what we¡¯ve worked and trained our whole lives for just because you have a strand of Father¡¯s DNA in you.¡±


    His pulse is racing and all his vitals indicate he¡¯s heading towards violence, but I don¡¯t care.


    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± I nearly shout. ¡°My mom died! I didn¡¯t have any choice in any of that. I was basically kidnapped and taken to Father¡¯s compound in the desert! If I¡¯d had my way, I would have stayed with my grandparents up in Denver.¡±


    ¡°You should have,¡± Chad shouts angrily as he gets unsteadily up to his feet. ¡°You show up out of nowhere. You pretend like you¡¯re one of us. You take my place while I go do what Father needs me to do. Next thing I know, Father¡¯s dead. And you¡¯re somehow running the whole operation. Who the hell do you think you are?¡±


    Something resonates, and a memory pulls loose. For a second, I¡¯m back in Denver, just before Father¡¯s lawyers hauled me off to Nevada. Gramps was holding me, whispering in my ear. ¡°Remember who you are,¡± he said. I snap back to the present.


    ¡°I¡¯m the one trying to save the world, that¡¯s who I am,¡± I say, slamming my fist on the coffee table and rising to my feet. ¡°I¡¯m the one working longer hours than you every day since the day Father died to make sure that his dream lives on. I¡¯m the one keeping the campus running and the world loving us and making sure that we¡¯ll be able to do more than just dig wells and put up solar panels. I¡¯m the one working with the engineers to make the tech for this trip possible, getting us the tools we need for all the work that I¡¯ve been lining up for the next decade. I¡¯m the one who talks to presidents and generals so they let us in so we can get the work done. I¡¯m the one who gets us permission to turn the Sahara green and make the oceans blue again. I¡¯m the one who is doing the job that you ran away from, the job that requires more effort than flying around and popping a command or two and basking in the adoration of all the people I¡¯m saving. I¡¯m the one you all needed, because none of you could handle doing any of that when Father died. I¡¯m the one doing Father¡¯s job, and doing it better than he ever did. That¡¯s who I am.¡±


    He takes another step towards me. For a moment, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s going to hit me. I brace myself, preparing my bots to shield my face. But the blow doesn¡¯t come.


    Instead, Chad sits back down and breaks.


    That¡¯s the only way I can describe it. Full blown meltdown. Crying and everything. It¡¯s so weird coming from him. He¡¯s always such a tough guy. According to my index, he didn¡¯t even cry at Father¡¯s funeral.


    ¡°I know,¡± he blubbers. ¡°I ran away. I couldn¡¯t stay there. Not where he worked. Not where everything reminded me of him. I couldn¡¯t do it.¡±


    His words come out in chunks between sobs with lots of stutters and repeats between them. For a second, I¡¯m not sure what to do. I walk over and sit with him on the couch and put a hand on his shoulder. My daily read tells me that Father used to do that with us. It¡¯s all I can think of to comfort him.


    Chad spends the next half an hour moaning about how he failed Father, how he should have been there and taken care of us. It¡¯s a weird mixture of patronizing and pathetic. I float some tissues over and let him talk and cry. He seems like he needs it.


    ¡°Chad,¡± I finally say. ¡°It¡¯s OK to just be you. You don¡¯t have to be Father.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. You¡¯re right,¡± he whispers. ¡°I can¡¯t be him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be OK,¡± I say in my most reassuring voice. ¡±Just do what you¡¯re good at. You save people every day. That¡¯s all Father wanted from you. You¡¯re great at what you do, and the world needs people like you. We need you.¡±


    That sets him off again. He cries for another good long while, but this time without the obnoxious pretension that he was somehow the one who was supposed to take care of us all. This I can deal with. Grief is something I can understand very well.


    We talk for a while, mostly about Father. For all his faults, the man did a lot of good. Eventually, Chad takes a stop in my bathroom to wash up. I sigh a long sigh as I notice the late hour. I¡¯m not going to get much sleep tonight. Chad comes back with his face put back together, but something is different about him. Some of that signature Chad attitude is gone.


    ¡°So, not to break the mood,¡± I say, ¡°but you never did answer that first thing I wanted to talk to you about. Did you end up talking to Lucie and Keeya?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I did. I did. They both said they¡¯re fine to defer the lump sum payment for two years when they get pregnant. And they both said they want to stay on working with me when they do. Get the lawyer on the line some time and we¡¯ll make the changes to their contracts. They¡¯ll sign whatever we need.¡±


    Not at all what I thought was going to happen, or what I was hoping for, but it¡¯ll work.


    ¡°OK. Thanks.¡±


    Chad surprises me by giving me a hug before he leaves. I close the door behind him as he stumbles down the hallway, then lean my head against it for a moment. I think I broke him for real.


    I grab my tablet and set an alarm so I¡¯ll be up in time to talk to Lin. It¡¯s very late and I¡¯m tired, but sleep doesn¡¯t feel like its coming on its own. It¡¯s been a really weird day. Mostly just towards the end of it. Being a brother can be exhausting.


    SLEEPYTIME

 Mon 12/11 06:00:00 ICT

    This bed is soft. I should probably lie here forever, wherever here is, but there¡¯s a beeping sound. The beeping doesn¡¯t stop. Why is there a beeping sound?


    I fumble at unfamiliar furniture until my hand finds a shape it knows and makes the noise to stop. A message telling me to read something flashes across my whole world, so I start learning who I am as I stumble into the shower. I see the still-dark sky through the window, which seems wrong for some reason. I wrap up my reading and recall my weird talk with Chad last night just as my schedule pops a notice that I¡¯m supposed to be talking to Lin in fifteen minutes. I reach out with invisible hands to grab clothes while my physical hands work a toothbrush across my teeth. I catch a glimpse of my naked self in the mirror and realize that Andrea¡¯s workout routine has really improved my physique over the last several months. I debate whether I should even put a shirt on or not. Maybe she could ¡°catch¡± me right out of the shower. No. Even with an improved body, I probably look better dressed.


    I¡¯ve still got a minute or two before Lin¡¯s video call, so I shoot off an email to Robert Maxwell telling him about the changes to the contracts for Keeya and Lucie. I tell him to triple-check all the other existing contracts for everyone else on the Butler Institute payroll. I can¡¯t handle any more surprises.


    I glance at my overlay¡¯s clock again. It¡¯s time.


    No message from Lin yet.


    Weird, my index entry for her tells me she¡¯s always very punctual.


    I check yesterday¡¯s mail. The last message from her confirmed that we¡¯re supposed to talk this morning, so I just need to wait for her link. I look through the rest of my email since I have time. Sheryl¡¯s message gushes about how well the press event yesterday went. She already has the site updated with new pictures and video. Mrs. Hastings¡¯ message is her standard perfunctory status report: everything is fine back home and all the younger sibs are doing great.


    Five minutes past the meeting time, still nothing from Lin. Did she sleep in? I don¡¯t think that¡¯s like her. Something must have come up.


    I pack up my room. I know the guides would handle it for me if I didn¡¯t, but I don¡¯t mind the effort and it¡¯s better than pacing the room.


    Ten minutes over.


    I read back over last night¡¯s talk with Chad again. Why was he acting so strangely? Wait a minute. Stumbling, slurred speech, shouting? He was drunk!. It seems like that¡¯s something I should have spotted, but I¡¯m only coming to it now. My stupid broken brain. Putting disparate info together like observing different behaviors and connecting them to a cause is clearly getting harder for me. Maybe I can automate some of it with my index, like the way I hooked in facial recognition. I¡¯m well on my way to a fully integrated robot brain. I¡¯ll ask around and see if I¡¯m right and he¡¯d been drinking a lot last night before I put in a ton of effort though.


    Fifteen minutes past Lin¡¯s call time. Maybe she doesn¡¯t want to talk to me after all. Am I way more invested in this relationship than she is? I thought she really liked me.


    No. Don¡¯t think like that. Things happen. She¡¯s probably got a good reason for standing me up.


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    I start thinking about breakfast. I don¡¯t see anything planned as a group this morning. I just need to be down at the docks by nine, so there¡¯s still plenty of time to find something to eat. Akara said yesterday that one of the hotel restaurants does a good French breakfast. Maybe I¡¯ll hit that. I just need to be down at the docks by nine, so there¡¯s still plenty of time.


    I¡¯m about to open the door to head downstairs when the soft ding from the tablet tells me an email just arrived. I run back to the desk. It¡¯s Lin¡¯s video call link! I open it up and she appears in front of me.


    I¡¯m a little confused when I see her. On the one hand, she looks great. The gauntness she once had is completely gone now. Her face has filled out with smoothly rounded cheeks. She¡¯s leaning over her desk wearing a tight athletic tank top that reveals some very significant curves that get me even more excited to see her. On the other hand, she¡¯s a bit of a mess. She¡¯s always so perfectly put together for these calls, but now her short hair is soaking wet and untamed, and she¡¯s not wearing a hat or a headwrap like she usually does. I¡¯m turned on by the look.


    ¡°Noah!¡± she exclaims breathlessly as she sits down. ¡°I thought I¡¯d missed you!¡±


    ¡°You almost did,¡± I reply. ¡°What happened to you? Are you OK?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she cries. ¡°Yang Song tortured me!¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± I respond, horrified. ¡°What did she do?¡±


    I¡¯ll kill her. I don¡¯t care that she¡¯s a commando super-soldier bodyguard or whatever.


    ¡°She yelled at me!¡± Lin cries out. ¡°She made me run so far! I thought I was going to die. She made me go for kilometers. Three of them!¡±


    I laugh, relieved. I didn¡¯t really want another murder on my conscience.


    ¡°That¡¯s not torture, gorgeous. That¡¯s just exercise.¡±


    Her face twists in an angry pout.


    ¡°It was torture,¡± she insists, ¡°Definitely torture. She decided yesterday that I was getting fat, so now she¡¯s making me go exercise with her in the mornings. I only have a couple of minutes while she thinks I¡¯m in the shower.¡±


    I laugh again. ¡°Let me tell you about what Andrea has been doing to me when we have more time. And for the record, you look spectacular. Don¡¯t let her or anyone else tell you otherwise.¡±


    ¡°You are sweet.¡± Her pout turns into a smile. ¡°Is this how exercise always is? I¡¯ve never had to do this since I was little. It hurts so much.¡±


    ¡°I absolutely understand, but it gets better after a while, I promise. Make sure you stretch really well and drink a lot of water today though, or you¡¯ll be even more sore tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what Yang Song said.¡± she says, her voice an accusation. ¡°Are you working with her? Are you trying to torture me, too?¡±


    ¡°Never, I promise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to go, I need to shower now or she¡¯ll get suspicious. I¡¯m so sorry we didn¡¯t get to talk.¡±


    ¡°We just did,¡± I reassure her. ¡°Now go before you get in trouble.¡±


    She gets a mischievous look in her eye and steps back from her desk, leaving the camera on. She peels off her tight top, revealing an even tighter sports bra underneath. She¡¯s wearing athletic leggings that hug her curves. Her belly is still mostly flat, but her hips have widened quite a bit and her chest has definitely grown. Her exposed skin glistens with sweat. I don¡¯t know what Yang Song could be thinking, she looks like the ideal of beauty to me.


    ¡°Do you like what you see?¡± she teases.


    ¡°You know I do.¡±


    ¡°You want more?¡± her eyes flash with a look of pure naughtiness. My heart skips a beat.


    ¡°Yes! Please!¡±


    She turns her back to me as she peels the sports bra off. She twirls it over her head, her bare back facing my way. I hear her laugh and see her start to turn as the bra comes flying at the camera, covering it and giving me nothing but a black window.


    ¡°Come see me soon, Noah. I¡¯ve got more to show you.¡±


    The video session closes. I scream in frustration.

 Mon 12/11 09:01:13 ICT

    The fleet gets going right on time. Bora and Thao stay here with one of the speedboats to finish up some details and grab us a lunch for later today. I wave goodbye to them from the deck, then break out the bag of pastries from the French restaurant that I grabbed instead of stopping for breakfast. I pass the bag around to Evan, Valerie, Louise and Andrea who are sitting with me as the cats start to motor upstream. Marc and Chad are a couple of boats behind, leading the Geologists in putting the next filter together. Once we move out from the city, the sibs on my boat and I take turns popping power poles along the shore as we eat our croissants and other goodies.


    ¡°These chocolate ones are great. Good pick Noah,¡± Valerie says as she pops the last flaky bite into her mouth.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I reply. ¡°What did you all get up to after the party? Anything fun?¡±


    Valerie laughs. ¡°Evan and I are still being very good, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re implying, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°Well, mostly good,¡± Evan says with a grin. Valerie takes a swing and hits him in the arm. ¡°I meant very good,¡± he corrects. ¡°We were very, very good last night.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I was more intending that question for Louise and Andrea. I already figured you two were off being very good.¡±


    ¡°I talked to my mother on the phone last night,¡± Louise says quietly. The laughing stops and I turn to give her my full attention. ¡°She was finally ready for it.¡±


    ¡°Good for you!¡± I say and Evan and Valerie echo it. Andrea claps excitedly and pops off some little fireworks with a wave of her hand.


    ¡°Yeah, it was good,¡± Louise agrees, her voice gaining confidence. ¡°And thanks for being supportive. I know not all of us have been able to make contact yet, or even have mothers to talk to. She¡¯s really great. We talked for a couple of hours. I really feel like I got to know her. She said she even wants me to come meet her family some time next year.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s wonderful,¡± Evan says, popping another pole into existence along the shore. ¡°I¡¯m still in limbo on mine. The last report I got from the legal team said they tracked her down to the country she¡¯s in, but haven¡¯t been able to contact her directly yet.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s still something!¡± Louise exclaims joyfully. ¡°Details, now! Where is she? Is it where she¡¯s from?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and it turns out I¡¯m Samoan,¡± he says. ¡°Bet you never would have guessed that.¡±


    ¡°I would have put my money on Tonga,¡± I say. ¡°Do you know anything else about her?¡±


    ¡°Pretty standard Butler mother story, from what the report said. She was a recent immigrant, talented, attractive, and broke. She took the deal, then ended up going back to Samoa afterwards with her wad of cash. The report said it looks like she¡¯s revitalized the economy of her whole village since she got there, so I guess that¡¯s cool.¡±


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    ¡°I hope you get to talk to her soon,¡± Louise says.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± he responds. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if she wants any contact, though. I¡¯ll have the lawyers reach out first and see. I¡¯ve wanted to just know who she was for so long, part of me wants to just leave it here. You know, keep the mother I¡¯ve built up in my head intact.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but then you won¡¯t ever meet her, which I know you want to do,¡± Valerie says.


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± he says with a sigh. ¡°I should. It¡¯ll probably be good.¡±


    ¡°I like your plan to have the lawyers check first,¡± I say, raising another pole from the ground on the bank. ¡°I¡¯d go with that.¡±


    He nods and finishes off the last of the pastries.


    ¡°Oh, before I forget,¡± I say, changing the subject. ¡°Did anyone notice if Chad was drinking a lot last night? Not judging, I just need to know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I was at his table,¡± Louise volunteers. ¡°He and the agriculture minister were having a lively discussion about local versus imported beers and ended up trying several of each. He wasn¡¯t getting totally plastered, or I would have stopped him, but I think he was pretty impaired.¡±


    Shit. My broken brain is getting worse. I tell them about my conversation with Chad last night, leaving out the most embarrassing parts for my brother. He deserves a little dignity. Just a little.


    ¡°So, yeah,¡± I conclude. ¡°I think this means I¡¯m even more disabled than I used to be. He was definitely drunk when we talked last night, and I honestly didn¡¯t notice it at all at the time.¡±


    Valerie gives me an odd look, but doesn¡¯t say anything. That¡¯s right, she still doesn¡¯t know how I¡¯m broken. Of course I forgot that. I should give Evan the go-ahead to tell her about it, since I really don¡¯t feel like having that conversation now. She¡¯s basically family now, and I trust her as much as any of my sibs who know.


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t think he was acting weird?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°Well, I did notice that. I just didn¡¯t connect it to anything else. It¡¯s always the connections that seem to fail for me.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, man,¡± Evan says.


    ¡°What do your diagnostics look like? Did you check for any major remodeling?¡± Louise asks. She seems more worried about it than I am.


    Valerie looks even more confused, but doesn¡¯t say anything. Yeah, I really should let her into the circle of trust on this.


    ¡°Yeah, I checked, but things are always shifting around in my cortex. There haven¡¯t been any huge changes lately, so I didn¡¯t think it should be a big deal.¡±


    ¡°Let me check your scans when we get home where we have some better equipment,¡± Louise says. ¡°There¡¯s got to be something we can do to stabilize you.¡±


    ¡°I think it would probably stop if I used my implant less, but I¡¯m not taking that as an option, since I need it to compensate for the damage I¡¯ve already done to myself. On the upside, I can read from my stored memory really fast these days, so it¡¯s almost like being a real boy.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s good,¡± Louise says slowly, her concerned look saying the opposite.


    ¡°Don¡¯t break yourself man, we need you,¡± Evan says, putting a huge hand on my shoulder. ¡°We even like you sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Thanks brother, you know how to make a guy feel special.¡±


    ¡°Any time,¡± he says, moving his hand to point towards the shore and raise another power pole from the earth.

 Wed 12/13 08:04:20 ICT

    ¡°Wow, what¡¯s that?¡± Marc asks, looking at the massive wall of concrete blocking the river ahead.


    I shake my head. How does he absorb so little from the mission briefings?


    ¡°That¡¯s the first of the dams, Marc,¡± I tell him as I pop another pole on the bank. That should be the last one on this side of the dam. ¡°You know, one of the dozens of big hydroelectric projects that Father helped inspire two decades ago? Now come on, we¡¯ve got to clear everything out of the cat. Go grab everything out of the fridge.¡±


    Bora arrives in one of the speedboats, mooring it to the back of the cat. I bundle up my clothes and other belongings and move them with a thought over to the box with my name on it in the back of the speedboat. Evan¡¯s gear floats along not far behind mine. I step down and grab the empty box for the food and carry it into the kitchen for Marc.


    ¡°Want help packing up your room?¡± I offer as he starts packing the drinks into the box.


    ¡°Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Noah.¡±


    I almost regret the offer when I push my bots past his doorway and feel out the state of his room. Clothes are strewn all over, with half-eaten packages of snacks and nearly-empty cans of soda mixed in among the dirty shirts and socks. I knew Marc was a bit of a slob, but I didn¡¯t expect it to be this bad this fast. I gather everything up with my hundred hands, separating out the trash and packing the rest up neatly in his box in the speedboat. By the time I¡¯m done, he¡¯s got the food all packed.


    ¡°Great. Do one more quick check of the boat to make sure we didn¡¯t forget anything,¡± I tell him. I step out onto the deck.


    ¡°Toothbrushes!¡± he says, emerging from the head with three of them. Evan was supposed to get those, but he must have been distracted by something. One of my many eyes sees him helping Valerie pack the medical supplies. Of course.


    ¡°Good catch,¡± I tell Marc. I take a quick sweep through our cat and then the rest of the fleet with my cloud. Looks like everything will be out once Evan and Valerie are done.


    Simok is busy ferrying the Geologists over to the dock. We should have just made some walkways, I think that would be faster. Next time.


    Once everyone is out, I get to do my thing. I feel around each cat¡¯s control deck and pull the control boards from each one, floating them gently over to where Chad is waiting on the dock. He waves as I feel his bots grip them, and I release them to his care.


    I suit up and float into the air above the boats and put my cloud to the serious work of the morning. I break down each cat into its constituent parts, being careful not to sink any of them and lose materials to the bottom of the river. A lot of what I disassemble goes into new bots until my cloud is big enough to carry the rest of the materials up to the upper reservoir. I float myself up to the top of the dam and start rebuilding the boats, feeling the millions of pinpricks as the bots I just built convert themselves back into hulls, decks, motors, and furnishings.


    Below me, Bora and Simok drive the two speedboats over to the locks on one side of the dam. I should be able to finish rebuilding the cats by the time they get up to the top side. Chad flies up as I finish the build on the first cat and gets the control board installed in it. He drives it over to the topside dock while I keep building.


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    The long, flat trailer full of our gear makes its way slowly along the winding road to the topside dock, pulled by Andrea and Louis¡¯s clouds. Andrea stands up on the front of it in a stance that makes me think of the figurehead of a ship. Most of the members of our group walk alongside it, with a few following behind, all of them chatting happily.


    I get another cat done and Chad gets its control board installed.


    ¡°Come on everyone,¡± I call out to the group waiting at the dock now. ¡°We need three filters in the reservoir and fifty dredgers. Get building!¡±


    They all spring into action, the Geologists getting one of the filters started there on the dock. Evan, Andrea, and Louise start kicking out the dredgers. They look a lot like the collectors, but with a scooping attachment that swivels around the middle and a cannon attachment up front. The first one that Andrea builds hits the water and immediately submerges itself. I can¡¯t see what it¡¯s doing through the murky water of the reservoir until it pops back up the surface and heads towards the dam wall. The mud cannon launches a glob of muck the size of a softball up and over the dam. The silty mass lands with a splash in the river below. Perfect.


    We put a lot of effort into figuring out a good solution for these dams. On the one hand, the dams are great because they provide clean, and renewable hydro power to the area, but on the other hand, they block the movement of sediment downstream. That¡¯s a problem, since it eventually causes the reservoir on the upstream side of the dam to expand as the bottom fills up and the soil downstream ends up getting depleted from the minerals and nutrients that the sediment was supposed to  provide.


    All the more conventional methods for dealing with the silt problem suck. Either they dredge the bottom on some periodic basis in a pretty destructive way, or they periodically drain the reservoir and scoop out the muck, which causes all sorts of problems like flooding downstream and interrupted power production. Or, if their infrastructure budgets can¡¯t handle either solution, they just let the reservoir silt up, grow, and eventually wreck both the surrounding area and the dam. That last one would have almost certainly happened here in another decade or two.


    Hence the dredgers. They¡¯re based on a modified version of the collectors we dropped all over the delta, with the same satellite based control coordinator that the collectors use. One glob of mud at a time, they should gradually get silt levels back to each dam¡¯s original levels, and we have controls installed that can adjust water and silt levels later if we need to.


    Chad¡¯s just installing the fourth cat¡¯s control board when the first filter splashes into the water. I push the thing out away from the dock and let it sink down and anchor to the bottom near the far side of the reservoir. It should have the smarts it needs to move itself up and down as the silt level changes. The Geologist class starts building the next filter.


    I hear a chorus of plops as more mud shoots from the dozen dredgers working now. The first cask from the filter surfaces and I see a dredger grab it and launch it over the dam before diving for its next batch of silt. Excellent, everything is working perfectly.


    The speedboats hit the top of the locks just as I finish rebuilding the last catamaran. Chad gets the control board installed and then, with a jumbled combination of muscle and bots working, my siblings empty the contents of the trailer back into the boats pretty quickly. While we¡¯re loading up, Bora and Simok are going over the training materials with the dam operators one more time to make sure they know how to not break anything.


    And now we¡¯re done here. The training team will come through again in a month or two for a refresher course and to look for any potential issues, but this should keep things running until they arrive. I survey the effort as I descend to the deck of the cat. Everyone is getting along, all the work is getting done, and the guides are putting out what looks like a nice lunch spread with help from Valerie, Keeya, and Lucie.


    Not bad for a morning''s work.

 Sun 12/17 14:21:07 ICT

    I enjoy the satisfying splash as Evan and I drop another filter into the river. He takes a seat as I wander to the railing and look out at the dense forests along the banks. Now that my cloud is freed up, I send out feelers and confirm what the map in my index says: not a lot of people along this stretch. It hasn¡¯t even been worth installing poles for most of the day. I get a twinge of guilt for being lazy as I settle into my chair next to my brother, but there¡¯s nothing useful we can do until we get to our next filter drop site. I wave goodbye to Louise and the Geologist girls as their boat veers off on the other side of a cluster of small islands. They¡¯ll get a build done on that tributary and merge back into a convoy later tonight.


    Evan is already snoring in his chair. I feel a twinge of envy for his ability to just knock off like that. I reach out with an invisible hand and fetch my tablet so I can at least pretend to be productive. Nothing new going on back at the campus, and nothing new from Lin either. I sigh and close my eyes, trying my best to imitate Evan.


    I think it must have worked, because my overlay¡¯s clock says it¡¯s an hour later now. There¡¯s a break in the foliage off to the left, and as our boats approach I can see a whole crowd gathered there on the rocky shore, cheering us on. They must be from the town coming up on the bend in the river. I get up and wave back, feeling like a celebrity. I put up a little light show for the kids, which gets a great reaction.


    Our guides, Mek and Simok this time, hop into one of the speedboats and jet over to meet up with them. They¡¯ll do some PR for us like they do at most of the towns we pass, though it hardly seems like we need it here. Then they¡¯ll pick up a dinner that they¡¯ll bring when they come back. That¡¯s been a lot of their time lately, jetting either up or downstream to the nearest village where we can get meals to go. I hope they have something like that fish curry we had yesterday. I wrote down that I really liked that. Really, anything is fine unless they come back with fried spiders again, though Erik thought the tarantulas were great. At least I can count on them having the mix of rice and pork with pickled vegetables that just about every town seems to have.


    Other than jumping up another dam, we don¡¯t have much else to do in Cambodia. We¡¯ll hit the border with Laos tomorrow after the dam, and that¡¯ll be it for this country.


    I sit back down and check my email again on my tablet. There¡¯s a new one from Lin. I think she¡¯s finally acknowledged that running is not, in fact, a form of torture. Honestly though, it wasn¡¯t so long ago that I probably would have agreed with her on that. I tap out a message telling her about our daily workouts. She responds a few minutes later and admits that a few kilometers of running isn¡¯t all that bad. I¡¯ll see if I can get her to work out with us while we¡¯re in China, partly because I think it¡¯ll be fun to do together, and partly because I can¡¯t wait to see how amazing she looks in her workout gear in person.


    I hear the splash from Chad¡¯s boat as he and the Geologist boys drop a filter. I pop a big green thumbs up into the air, and Chad waves back with a big smile. We¡¯ve been getting along well lately. Surprisingly well, as I scan through my interactions with him over the last several days. I¡¯m starting to think that his drunk talk with me back in Phnom Penh flipped some kind of switch in him. He stopped pretending like he¡¯s got some birthright to be running the Institute. He¡¯s been putting his awesome work ethic in play, and acting like a real example and mentor to the younger class.


    Andrea comes hurtling out of the sky and lands on the deck next to Chad. She hums a happy note and projects a map into the air between them, reporting where she had cleared landmines. Chad nods, gives her a pat on the shoulder, and takes to the air to pick up where she left off. A whole mess of the ugly little traps are still left over from the civil war here. There aren¡¯t a lot of good solutions to finding and clearing them out when they¡¯re in dense jungles like this. Flying teens with nanotech superpowers work pretty well though. It¡¯s not so hard to remove a mine when you can spot it from a hundred meters up and reach inside to disable the triggering mechanism with a thought.


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    Valerie waves at me from her boat, and once she has my attention points back and forth from my cat to herself. I get the message and gently pick her up and bring her across the rippling surface of the water.


    ¡°That boy of ours still sleeping?¡± she asks.


    I nod. ¡°For a couple of hours now.¡±


    She runs her fingers through his curly hair, waking him. ¡°Up you go, big guy. I¡¯ve got some news.¡± She waits a moment as he comes to full alertness. ¡°Well, gossip, really. But I think you¡¯ll want to hear it anyway.¡±


    ¡°Hope it¡¯s worth interrupting the best dream ever,¡± he replies. ¡°I was with this girl. She was hot, and funny, and smart¡ª¡±


    ¡°And her name was Valerie,¡± she interrupts. ¡°I know. You¡¯ve used that line before.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a line if it¡¯s still true,¡± he protests.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± I interject. ¡°What¡¯s the news?¡±


    Valerie parks herself on Evan¡¯s lap and turns sideways so she can see us both. ¡°So, I had a long talk with Keeya and Lucie today. Did you know they were dating each other before they got romantic with your brother?¡±


    I shake my head, so does Evan. He gets the scowl on his face that he always gets when we talk about this stuff. I feel like I should be surprised, but looking back through my log, that actually makes sense with the way Chad described things.


    She continues. ¡°Their story is that they both liked him and they wanted to do some experimenting. It wasn¡¯t about the money. Or at least, not just about the money. And it really was their idea, not his, even if he had whatever contracts he had with them.¡±


    Evan¡¯s face softens a little. The whole thing is weird to me, but it gives me hope that even the least likeable people can still be loved.


    ¡°Anyway, they like how things are shaping up, and they want to make it a long-term thing. They want to keep up their current jobs until one of them gets pregnant, then go live at the campus and raise Chad Junior there together.¡±


    ¡°Chad Junior?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°Only if they get a boy,¡± she says, laughing. ¡°They both like the name.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°What if it¡¯s a girl? Chadarella? Chadette?¡±


    ¡°Simone, actually,¡± Valerie replies. ¡°Or maybe Naledi. They haven¡¯t decided. But if it¡¯s a boy, it¡¯s definitely Chad.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s the news?¡± Evan asks, arching an eyebrow at her. ¡°They really like Chad and they want to move in with us?¡±


    ¡°I did warn you it was more gossip than news,¡± she says. ¡°But if you could see about making that OK in your next Butler sibling meeting, I think it would be a good idea.¡±


    ¡°But they still want to get paid to have the kid?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± she answers. ¡°They¡¯re not crazy enough to let an eight-figure payout slip by. But I think you¡¯ll like what they want to do with it.¡±


    ¡°And that is¡­¡±


    ¡°About a million to get Lucie¡¯s father out of debt, then the rest to build orphanages like the one Keeya grew up in. If they can live on campus for free, they don¡¯t plan to keep any of it. And this way you don¡¯t even need to hire a nanny for the kid.¡±


    I mull that for a minute. Evan seems to be doing the same.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a bad idea,¡± I finally say. ¡°It¡¯s growing on me. Maybe we could even get them to forget about some of the payout if we go build them the orphanages they want. Might even be a fun trip.¡±


    Evan nods. ¡°And we¡¯ve got a lot of contacts in philanthropy networks that we could tap to help them get funding for staff and supplies. I bet we could find people that would do it just for the publicity we can get them by doing a partnership.¡±


    ¡°Mothers raising their own children in the Butler family?¡± I say. ¡°What crazy thing will they think of next? And Chad and Keeya and Lucie will just be a couple? Or a trio?¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s called a throuple,¡± Valerie supplies helpfully. ¡°So, you two think you can make it happen? I told them I¡¯d talk to you. I figured if Chad asked, you guys might balk at it, but I think it makes sense.¡±


    Evan and I look at each other and nod. I know what we¡¯re going to be talking about in our next sibling meeting.

 Mon 12/18 13:04:42 ICT

    The river narrows as we approach the border with Laos. The faster flow slows us down and I grow my cloud to about half its limit so I can push on the boats to supplement the straining motors.  Louise gives me some concerned looks when she sees how many bots I¡¯m running, but I reassure her that I¡¯m fine. I can hear the crashing of Khone Falls off in the distance up ahead.


    As we get closer, I see a tiny dock on the side of the river leading to a narrow road. That¡¯s our stop for unloading the gear. I get our boat moored, Mek pulls up in a big, old truck with a trailer. Since the dock is barely big enough to handle one boat at a time, and it¡¯s definitely not designed for boats the size of our catamarans, it¡¯s almost entirely botwork getting our stuff loaded into the trailer. Once the control boards for each boat are safely stashed in the truck, Marc shepherds the geologists onto the truck and trailer, while the other sibs in my class get to work. Between us, we make short work of ripping apart the cats and the speedboats into pieces small enough for our clouds to haul, then start flying towards the falls.


    Looking down on the widest waterfall on Earth is awe-inspiring. Rough rocks with trees impossibly growing from them break up the rushing white water. The falls themselves are a huge curving expanse stretching for kilometers, an enormous wall of water thundering down. The churn of liquid at the bottom is broken only by the jagged boulders jutting through the foaming barrier. The roar of the water is deafening.


    I look past the falls for the rendezvous point and see a break in the treeline along the shore that connects to what could only very charitably be termed a dirt road. I touch down on the bank with my load of boat materials in tow. I¡¯m not sure how they¡¯ll get the trailer with our stuff down a road this narrow, but Mek said she could, so I turn and start putting the fleet back together. I glance over and see Andrea almost keeping up with my building speed. I push a little harder and get my boat done first. I¡¯m still the king of the bots. Glad I¡¯m still getting good return value for my brain damage.


    We don¡¯t have the control boards here yet, so now there¡¯s nothing to do but wait for the truck to catch up to us. Andrea points down the dirt track and floats a question mark in the air. I stretch out my cloud in that direction and feel something like a small market up the hill from us.


    ¡°Sure, why not?¡± I say.


    We trudge up the hill on foot, not minding a chance to stretch our legs on a walk longer than the length of our boats. As the jungle opens up, I see a small town with an open air market at its center. Grass-roofed booths featuring knick-knacks and clothes cluster around a widened area in the road running through the village, a tourist trap clearly geared for foreigners here to see the falls.


    ¡°Check this out,¡± Evan calls, stepping up to one of the booths. The street vendor is making another customer some kind of ice cream desert on a freezing surface connected to a gas-powered generator. He mixes fruit into a creamy base and scrapes it across ice-cold metal until it forms into rolls that he puts in a cup. Whatever it is, it looks tasty. With the exertion of the flight, the build, and the walk, a cold treat would totally hit the spot.


    ¡°Were we smart enough to bring any local currency?¡± I ask him. ¡°I have my credit card, but I don¡¯t feel anything like a card reader anywhere in this place.¡±


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    ¡°No,¡± Evan shakes his head. ¡°We were not that smart. Guess we have to wait for the truck.¡±


    ¡°But that looks so good,¡± Louise says, as she and Andrea join us in front of the booth. Andrea nods emphatically in agreement.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be here in less than an hour,¡± I reassure her. ¡°We can get all the ice cream we want then.¡±


    I hear a rumble from down the road, but it¡¯s from the opposite direction our truck should be coming from. A few tour vans pull up on the far end of the market. A bunch of what look like European tourists pile out.


    Andrea claps her hands and perks up. She runs out onto the widened bit of road and builds a bowl with her bots on the ground. She starts up some music to get people looking her way and starts into a dance routine. She gets a few uninterested glances until she starts popping streaks of color into the air every time she moves, then she starts pulling the crowd her way. She jumps three meters into the air and lands with an explosion of blue and red. A visual symphony of shapes and colors swirls around her.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Evan says. ¡°We can¡¯t make her do all the work.¡±


    He jogs over to join her and surrounds himself with streaming flows of colors, bold and bright. He¡¯s not much of a dancer, but the audience seems to like it. I jump in and start to juggle a dozen balls of light. Juggling is pretty easy if you don¡¯t have to worry about the balls obeying the laws of gravity, but I try my best to look like it¡¯s a challenge.


    Not to be left behind, Louise starts putting on our own display. She summons a giant paintbrush made of red light almost as tall as she is, and starts painting the air with what look like floating Japanese characters. I think she¡¯s been getting in touch with her heritage since she found out about her mother. The tourists clap and cheer, and as Andrea lets the music die out, they throw money into the bowl. Most of it looks like local bills, but I recognize some American dollars and Euros too.


    I glance around, looking for Chad. Where was he while we were busking for tips? I see him standing off on the far side of the market, and it looks like he¡¯s been busy. The roofs of all the vending booths have all been quietly replaced with solar panels, and as I stretch out my senses, I feel a bunch of more panels on top of any building sturdy enough to hold one. With a glance, he disconnects the wires from the loud, gas-powered generator running the ice-cream booth and connects them to his new local power grid. He switches off the generator with a wave of his hand. The man running the booth exclaims something that sounds like a curse from the tone and turns to look at it. He scratches his head, looking back and forth from the generator to his freezing machine, trying to figure out how the lights are still on with the generator shut down.


    I see Chad¡¯s smile and remember why I liked him so much when he was in Africa. This kind of direct help is what he loves best, even when no one realizes what he¡¯s just done. He¡¯s a good guy.


    We walk up to the front of his booth and dump the whole bowl of money on the counter. The proprietor¡¯s eyes go wide. I¡¯m not sure what the local currency is worth, but I guess from the guy¡¯s reaction, the tourists must have liked our show. I point to the freezing griddle and pantomime eating. He nods vigorously and starts making us some ice cream rolls. Once we all have some, he says something in a language that none of us know and points to the money pile. Maybe he thinks it¡¯s too much. I take a bite of mine. It¡¯s not only cool looking, it¡¯s delicious.


    Down the road, I feel the truck with our gear and sibs at the edge of my range. They¡¯ll be here soon, and they¡¯ll definitely want in on this street food discovery. I wonder if we made enough money to treat everyone, or if the guides will have to pay for the rest.

 Mon 12/18 16:21:09 ICT

    We split up to cover the dozens of channels leading down into the falls area. The difference from Cambodia is already clear. Homes and farms crowd the banks of every tributary my cat goes up. We need to get as much filter coverage as possible here before we, and the river, merge back up. The work is unusually quiet, since Marc went with Chad¡¯s boat, and Andrea and Louise are each leading one of the Geologists¡¯ boats. It¡¯s just Evan and me. There¡¯s a lot of work to do, but I feel like we¡¯re up to it. My cloud is still pretty bloated, and the filters are rolling off the deck like clockwork.


    Other than getting the water clean, there¡¯s not a whole lot the Laotians need from us along this stretch, at least not that we can do from the river. They already have plenty of power, mostly from the hydro generation that the dams provide, enough that they export more than they use. We¡¯ll still pop some power poles for them, but that¡¯s mostly to incentivize them to get more lines out to some of the rural populations along the river. Mostly, what they need is more and better roads, but that¡¯s going to have to be another trip. Once we meet back up, it should be easy going from here to China. Where Lin is.


    ¡°So, you excited to see Lin again?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± I ask. ¡°Or did you slip some secret mind-reading code into the implant?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that obvious,¡± he says. ¡°You get that look. Plus, I figure you didn¡¯t spend all morning writing to Alan.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t all morning,¡± I protest. ¡°It was barely an hour.¡±


    ¡°Just an hour, huh?¡± He laughs.


    ¡°Shut up. You have your girlfriend right here, I have to write to mine. You know if we¡¯d left Valerie behind, you¡¯d be doing the same thing.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± he smiles. ¡° I¡¯d be writing at least two hours a day.¡±


    ¡°Yeah you would,¡± I say as we finish up the latest filter. I push it off the back of the cat and get the next one started.


    ¡°So, question for you,¡± I say. ¡°And if you¡¯re not comfortable talking about it, that¡¯s OK. I won¡¯t ask twice. But I have reason to believe that my very literary relationship is about to take a more physical turn in the near future.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t give you sex advice, brother. I told you, Valerie and I are being mostly good.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s kind of the thing,¡± I say. ¡°I think I might want to be mostly good too. At least at first. I don¡¯t want to move too fast and ruin everything. And from what I¡¯ve read about Chinese culture, chances are good that Lin might want that too. I¡¯m not exactly experienced. I never dated anyone before campus, other than going to a couple of school dances, and I¡¯d hardly call those dates. I¡¯ve never even kissed a girl other than Lin. From what she¡¯s told me, she¡¯s just as inexperienced as I am. And no matter how much we¡¯ve written to each other and talked, we¡¯ve only met in person that once. I don¡¯t think we¡¯re actually ready for a sexual relationship. But I want to have some fun with her, you know? Just not all the fun. Now we¡¯re going to see each other in less than two weeks, and I don¡¯t have any idea where to draw lines.¡±


    He laughs again, the kind of big belly laugh that shakes his whole body. ¡°You just described the main dilemma of my life since Valerie gave in to my charms and admitted that she wanted me.¡±


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    ¡°So what do you and Valerie do? I know you guys spend a good amount of time in her room alone. I don¡¯t think that you¡¯re in there reading poetry to each other.¡±


    Evan gives me a little bit of a surprised look.


    ¡°Well, I appreciate that you¡¯ve respected our privacy enough that you don¡¯t know. I know you usually see everything going on around you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I trained my cloud to stop at bedroom doors back when I wanted to make sure I didn¡¯t get an eye full of Father growing the family. Never changed it back.¡±


    ¡°Interesting,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s more complex than the code I have running. How do you know if it¡¯s a bedroom door?¡±


    ¡°I actually do invade any space the first time I encounter it, just for a few seconds when I put together my spatial mapping for the index. I made a heuristic for scoring rooms for bedroominess based on furniture, closets, items, and other factors. I can share the code if you want.¡±


    He gives me an eye-roll. ¡°No, I¡¯m good. You¡¯re such a geek.¡±


    ¡°I admit it,¡± I agree. ¡°I¡¯m geeky even by Butler family standards. But with this, I¡¯m a geek who can pretend that he can remember where the bathroom is. Anyway, I said I wasn¡¯t going to ask twice about the physical relationship stuff, but I still think there¡¯s a chance you want to answer.¡±


    His smile tells me I¡¯m right.


    ¡°I actually do, yeah. Sorry, I¡¯m endlessly fascinated by your workarounds for your disability.¡±


    ¡°I am pretty fascinating, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the most fascinating long-lost-then-found brother I¡¯ve ever had.¡± He sits up and leans toward me a little. ¡°So, to finally answer your question: after my first date with Valerie, we set up some ground rules. We talked about what we were both comfortable with and that¡¯s where we drew our lines. Basically anything that leaves both of our boxers on is fair game. The rest we¡¯ll get around to later. When we both feel comfortable and ready for it.¡±


    ¡°She wears boxers?¡±


    He nods. ¡°And if you tell her we talked about her underwear, you and I are going to have an even more uncomfortable conversation than this one. We clear?¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    A silence settles in. It stretches longer than I¡¯d like. Evan shoves the now-complete filter off the deck and starts on the last one we need to build before dinner.


    ¡°It was a weird conversation for me at first,¡± Evan says, breaking the awkwardness. ¡°The one with Val and me, I mean. On campus, we all grew up never talking about that kind of thing. Ever.¡±


    ¡°The Butler Institute is so weird. Never?¡±


    ¡°I mean, we got a basic and very clinical version of sex ed from the teachers as part of our coursework. But discussing sex in the context of relationships? Consent? Pleasure? No, never.¡±


    I¡¯m a little surprised that I can still find new ways that Father screwed up my siblings at this point. I stash one more thing I need to change about campus culture on my to-do list for when we get home.


    ¡°So you both keep your underwear on. What does that leave to do?¡±


    Evan grins. ¡°All sorts of things. Kissing, cuddling, backrubs, foot rubs, talking, just looking at each other and being in love. Occasionally a board game. You know, everything else.¡±


    I laugh.


    ¡°You two are cute, you know that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure you and Lin will be cute too. Valerie and I already decided on it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, man,¡± I tell him. ¡°For everything. For not letting me die. For being my brother for real. For being my best friend.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Same for you. Except for the dying part. And you still owe me a lifesaving, so make sure that¡¯s in your electric brain somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I say. ¡°But you haven¡¯t given me many opportunities so far. Maybe you should take up some riskier hobbies if you want that paid back.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been thinking of trying skydiving. Parachutes optional, of course. You want to come?¡±


    ¡°Of course, brother,¡± I tell him. ¡°How else would I be there when you need me?¡±

 Wed 12/20 17:04:14 ICT

    The last of the cats emerges from the other side of the island just as the sun is starting to set. Since we¡¯re past the last of the islands and we¡¯ll be able to stick together in a convoy for a while, I rebuild the walkways between the cats so the non-fliers have easy access to wherever they want to go. I also help Andrea make some modifications to her boat in the middle of the fleet, giving it an extended deck. It¡¯ll be nice to be able to all eat together without being cramped. Plus, now we can fit everyone for morning exercises tomorrow.


    Andrea nods approvingly and sets to furnishing the newly enlarged space with chairs and tables. She¡¯s just finishing up when Simok pulls up in the speedboat with dinner. He sets out bowls with a sampling of a whole bunch of dishes on one of the tables. I try several of them with the sticky rice that¡¯s supposed to go with everything. The citrusy fish is really good, it reminds me of ceviche that Mom and I had at a restaurant one time. Ooh, memory trigger. Into the index it goes. The one that looks like little pieces of fried chicken suspended in paste is way too spicy for me. The slaw-like mix from the next dish gets the heat level just right. I think it¡¯s made from some kind of fruit or vegetable, but I can¡¯t quite tell which. It¡¯s sweet and savory and salty and hot all at once. I ask Mek about it and she tells me it¡¯s shredded unripe papaya. Who knew that was a thing? But I like it.


    It¡¯s fun eating together with everyone. The only rough part is when Chad throws up over the side after Simok tells him the sauce he just ate was made of duck blood. Some of my sibs can¡¯t handle spicy food, a side effect of the bland diet they served on campus for years, but the Geologist guys get into a contest over who can eat the most of the tiny, fiery peppers. The Geologist girls all sit back and laugh every time they chomp one and freak out. The show gets really good when Stan accidentally touches his face and starts yelling that his eye is going to burn out and the other two guys pin him down to pour water on his face.


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    Once we all stop laughing, Lisa breaks out some music. It¡¯s a party on deck, with my sibs chatting, feeling the groove and munching the little bundles of sweet rice that come wrapped in leaves. Stan pulls up a chair next to mine and picks my brains for code. He¡¯s trying to figure out a good algorithm for getting his bots to catch things midair. I¡¯m tempted to tell him not to worry about it, since the full version of the interface makes it so trivial, but Father was right, implementing some of this yourself is a good exercise to make you really appreciate and understand the way the cloud works.


    Marc and most of the girls are engrossed in a deep analysis of which Hillside High characters should date each other. I guess the weekly ritual is still alive and well back home, though I couldn¡¯t say for sure since I haven¡¯t cared enough about it to mention it in any of my logs for a long time. Chad is sitting between his girlfriends against the railing on one side, having a quiet conversation. He has one arm around Keeya, with Lucie leaning against his other arm, her hand resting on his thigh. They¡¯re actually a cute throuple just sitting there like that. Evan and Louise are talking about putting medbots in the bloodstream again, it sounds like they figured out how to get the kidneys to leave them alone so they can just circulate indefinitely. Phil and Erik are standing against the rail across from me, pointing things on the shore out to each other and popping a power pole now and then.


    It¡¯s all so perfect.


    I want to go see Lin, and I know there¡¯s a whole lifetime of work ahead that we need to do once this trip is over, but if every evening on the river could be like this, I¡¯d be all right just staying on these boats forever.

 Thu 12/21 06:24:09 ICT

    ¡°Come on, Chad!¡± Lucie¡¯s peculiar accent comes from the direction of their boat. ¡°We want you to keep that six-pack. You can¡¯t keep that if you don¡¯t work it.¡±


    She hauls him by the hand across the walkway to the extended deck. Andrea starts the rhythmic percussion. Lisa supplements it with a new sound that I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard before. It¡¯s ethereal and beautiful and I can¡¯t figure out how she does it at all. The stretching begins as Phil and Stan straggle in, completing the group.


    Stretch. Pose. Sweat. Pose. Hold it. On to the next one. Repeat until Andrea is satisfied.


    Finally done.


    I reach out and help Erik up to his feet. It was his first Andrea workout today, and he looks like he¡¯d rather just lay on the deck for the rest of the day.


    ¡°It gets better, I promise,¡± I tell him.


    He nods, still catching his breath, and heads to his boat to shower off the sweat he¡¯s drenched with. From my morning reading, I can only guess that I looked a lot like that when Andrea started with me out on the Pacific.


    Back on our boat, I get first shot at the shower as Marc rummages through the fridge and Evan is distracted talking to Valerie. Once I¡¯m clean and dressed, I feel downright fantastic. Even the ever-present humidity doesn¡¯t get me down.


    The French left their distinctive culinary mark here in Laos just like they did in Cambodia and Vietnam. One of the breakfast options Simok picked up is a long sandwich on crusty bread. The pork here is a sausage and not the slices like the Vietnamese sandwiches had, but it¡¯s the same principle even if it¡¯s done a little spicier here. It¡¯s good, filling, and looks better than the bowl of sticky rice that Marc is chowing down on.


    ¡°You¡¯re still good to keep helping out the Geologists today while the rest of us are clearing mines?¡± I ask him. ¡°You¡¯ve got all the filter drop locations?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I got ¡®em,¡± Marc replies.


    ¡°Thanks. And good work getting the boys and girls to actually work with each other these last few days, they¡¯re all really hitting their stride now that they¡¯re not acting like their on separate teams.¡±


    He beams at the praise. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of everything. Don¡¯t worry about a thing.¡±


    I retreat to my room and grab the tablet to check email before I go. Alan thinks he¡¯s got the whole list of possible attendees for General Liu¡¯s tech conference. I absently let my text scraper scoop his reports into my index and move onto something more interesting. Lin is doing well, but still hates running. I relate. I¡¯m pretty good at it at this point, but I still hate it. Mrs. Hastings reports a couple of minor disciplinary issues with some of the 10-year-olds getting in fights with each other. That class is oversized anyway. I should talk to Marc and Mrs. Hastings about splitting them into two cohorts when we get back.


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    Time for bomb and mine duty. Like in Cambodia, it was a request from the Laotian Foreign Minister when I set up the trip. I guess when you drop a couple million tons of bombs on someone, not all of them explode. Since the Butler Institute is based in the US, I guess he figured we owed them one on this issue. I¡¯m fine with that. I can help clean up my country¡¯s mess.


    I grab some kips, the colorful local bills, from Simok before I go. He assures me it¡¯ll be plenty to buy any lunch I can find today. Suiting up, I take to the sky.


    I spread my cloud wide, first letting it grow to a nice comfortable size, then reaching down to the ground all around me looking for anything that resonates magnetically or feels like metal. I head east towards the Vietnamese border that snakes up north almost parallel to the river. The land below me is a conservation area with almost no people. There¡¯s very little that¡¯s not natural down there, so the metal scraps stand right out. Every time I feel any, I dig it out and pulverize it. With my cloud at capacity like this, I¡¯m able to go pretty near to full speed and wipe a huge swath of the jungle below me as I go.


    I know Louise would yell at me for growing the cloud, but I love the feeling of it. I¡¯m so huge, so powerful. The sensations flood in. I can feel everything. It¡¯s like I¡¯m crawling over every tree and leaf, feeling the satisfying disintegration of bomb casings and the occasional landmine left there since the seventies. I close my human eyes and just lose myself to it, floating through a sea of green and brown and hard and soft while my body soars over the treetops.


    I brush by a tiger. My index entry tells me those are almost extinct in the wild. I form some eyes and capture some video of it. It¡¯s not doing anything really interesting as I go by, but it¡¯s still really cool to see.


    I generally follow an old abandoned road below that I know will get me to somewhere with food by lunchtime. I clear everything dangerous for a couple of kilometers on either side of it.


    The edge of my awareness feels a group that¡¯s too well armed to be tourists or foragers but not well armed enough to be military. They could only be poachers. I slag all the metal in their gear into raw materials for making more of me. Good luck hunting with your no guns. Or walking with your pants falling down because your belt buckle just disappeared. I idly wonder how they¡¯ll explain what just happened to each other, but I don¡¯t care enough to slow down and find out.


    I finally reach a tiny town not far from the Vietnamese border. I touch down far enough out that I don¡¯t think anyone will have seen me over the treeline and let my flight suit melt away. There¡¯s a small open market with one stall selling something that smells like food. I put all my money on the counter and just look at the cook expectantly. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m overpaying by a lot, but he gets the message and puts together a huge meal of what looks like one of everything he makes. I dig in, enjoying the noodle soup and rice with fried meat the most. Some of it I don¡¯t even get to, but what I eat I like until I¡¯m full.


    I give the proprietor a wave, suit up, and lift off. His jaw drops and he starts yelling to the nearby stalls and pointing after me. I¡¯m gone before anyone else reaches him or looks up. Hope they don¡¯t think he¡¯s crazy.


    I head a few clicks north so I don¡¯t double cover the swatch I got this morning. I jet due west, letting my bots scour the jungle below. I don¡¯t even need to follow anything other than my in-console compass this time. Eventually, I¡¯ll hit the river again. It¡¯s such a nice way to pass a day: saving lives, extending my consciousness, just knowing that I¡¯m doing good. This is what I¡¯m made for. This is what I should do all the time.


    Mom, are you proud of me yet? How many lives do I need to save until I break even for wrecking Jeff and killing Father? I¡¯ll get there eventually, right?

 Sat 12/23 09:06:14 ICT

    ¡°Wake up, man, it¡¯s time to go up the dam,¡± says the voice.


    Boat. River. I know that voice.


    There¡¯s a dam, and I guess we need to go up it.


    ¡°One sec,¡± I say groggily, pulling up my daily read. I stumble towards the bathroom, almost tripping on the way. Something feels wrong, I think, but it¡¯s hard to tell what. It seems like I shouldn¡¯t normally feel like this in the morning.


    ¡°Come on, brother. We¡¯re stalled until you¡¯re ready,¡± the voice I now recognize as Evan¡¯s says through the bathroom door.


    After a quick pee and a lazy scrub of my teeth, I stagger back to my cabin and grab clothes. It feels like it takes me forever to get dressed. My body doesn¡¯t seem to want to respond this morning. I go to pack up, but I find that almost all my gear is already gone. Someone must have moved it for me. I must have been really tired, from my reading, I don¡¯t think I usually sleep through much. Did I miss the morning workout? My bots float my toiletries out and onto my box in the truck waiting on the shore. At least those seem to be working right today.


    ¡°Everything is ready. We already got the other cats up top,¡± Evan says, suiting up and flying up to the top of the dam. I follow him and dissolve our last cat below us, bringing it up in a million pieces and reconstructing it on the still water of the upper reservoir.


    ¡°You doing all right?¡± Evan asks. ¡°I tried to wake you, but when you wouldn¡¯t get up for exercises this morning, I made everyone let you sleep.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I reply. ¡°I guess I¡¯m just tired for some reason.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look so good,¡± he notes.


    ¡°You know, I don¡¯t feel great either. Maybe I¡¯m coming down with something.¡±


    We jet over to the cat and sit on the deck, pushing it with bots over to the small dock to join with the other boats and get its control board reinstalled.


    I lay down and enjoy the warm morning sun, closing my eyes. Even with the warm air and the sun shining on me, it¡¯s somehow cold out here.


    ¡°You¡¯re shaking man, are you OK?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m fine, but my throat hurts.¡±


    I surround myself with bots, discharging a little battery to produce a gentle heat. Better. A truck pulls up, and furnishings and belongings start floating to the boats. Keeping my eyes open is too hard. Eyeballs aren¡¯t supposed to be sore, right?


    From Louise: Evan says you¡¯re sick. Can Valerie and I come over and check on you?


    It takes me a moment to think of an answer.


    To Louise: Sure.


    I feel my bots contracting in like they do when I¡¯m about to fall asleep. I¡¯m not asleep, am I?


    ¡°It¡¯s not just a cold,¡± I hear. The voice seems very far away. A woman¡¯s voice. Louise. ¡°I¡¯ve got rhinovirus figured out and this isn¡¯t it. Let me do some research. Evan, get him back to bed please.¡± I feel a hand press lightly on my chest. ¡°Noah. Hey, Noah.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    I feel more hands, then the small fleshy part of me moving without me doing anything.  The voice follows me. How does a voice move? That¡¯s weird.


    ¡°Do you have any other symptoms, Noah? Does anything else hurt?¡±


    ¡°My eyes hurt,¡± I say. ¡°Well, more behind my eyes.¡± My body stops gliding along and the mesh of bots holding me up slowly lowers me onto a softer surface. ¡°I think I might be getting a headache. It¡¯s not like a remake your brain kind of headache though. It¡¯s just like a little one.¡±


    I feel hands and bots on the skin of my face and chest.


    ¡°Noah, do me a favor and put your bots in sleep mode, would you? Can you do that?¡±


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    That¡¯s a good idea. I don¡¯t know what else I would do with them, and I might accidentally drop them in the river. There¡¯s a river outside. I gather all the little parts of me into the deck so I won¡¯t lose them.


    SLEEP_MODE


    I suddenly feel very small and very vulnerable. It probably looks like big piles of dust out on the deck now. I feel hands putting a blanket on me. It¡¯s still cold. It shouldn¡¯t be cold. It¡¯s a nice day. I remember it was nice.


    ¡°Noah, are you with me?¡± It¡¯s that voice again. Louise.


    ¡°I need to go get the bombs today,¡± I tell her. It¡¯s important to get the bombs. I¡¯m going to fly to get them. I can fly.


    ¡°Chad left an hour ago,¡± she tells me. ¡°Right after we put you to bed. Don¡¯t worry about that.¡±


    Chad is good now. I like Chad. He¡¯s better than he used to be.


    It gets quiet for a while.


    ¡°Noah, you¡¯ve got Dengue fever,¡± a voice says. It¡¯s not Louise, but I know this one too, but I can¡¯t think of the name. It¡¯s in my other brain. I¡¯ll get it in a bit. ¡°You probably got a mosquito bite at some point.¡±


    Valerie. That¡¯s who that is.


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault, Noah!¡± another voice says, more distant. I think I know that voice.  Marc? ¡°I messed up a couple of times and forgot to assign someone to keep the mosquito guard up. Don¡¯t die! You can¡¯t die!¡±


    There¡¯s more hushed talking, something about being fine and going away. Am I the one going away? Or the one being fine? I can¡¯t tell.


    Marc. He¡¯s my brother. He bothered me once sometimes, but he¡¯s not bad. Chad is my brother too. He used to hate me. Or I hated him. Maybe we both hated. I can¡¯t remember.


    Chad really loved Father. Father killed Mom. But he didn¡¯t really. But he kind of did. I killed him anyway. But Jeff killed Father. But I killed him too.


    ¡°Noah, I need you to focus. We¡¯ve got a couple of options,¡± Louise this time. ¡°We can let it run its course. It¡¯ll be a week or two of very painful recovery, but if you rest, you should be fine.¡±


    Evan killed Father, too. Louise killed him. Andrea killed him. That wasn¡¯t about Mom. That was about other things. Sex and power and keeping your brain drugs and justice and stuff. But really it was me. Jeff killed him, but Jeff didn¡¯t kill him. I killed Jeff, but Jeff¡¯s not dead. I broke him. Father wasn¡¯t good. But he was good.


    ¡°The other choice is an experimental treatment I¡¯ve been doing when the kids get colds back at home. I¡¯ve got an algorithm that can identify some viruses. I can code it to recognize the dengue virus with a little bit of work. Should just take an hour or two. I can flood your body with medical bots and get rid of most of the virii. It¡¯s not a perfect cure, but it should help a lot.¡±


    Virii is a funny word.


    Father wasn¡¯t good. He did good things, but he wasn¡¯t good. Am I good? I thought I was once, then I knew I wasn¡¯t. But now I might be, even though I did bad things. Like murder. Murder is bad. But now I do good. Can I be good? Mom, am I good?


    ¡°If we do the treatment, you should be fine in a day or two. And you¡¯ll hurt a lot less. It¡¯s worked well in all my trials, but as always with anything medical and experimental, there¡¯s some risk. Are you up for it?¡±


    If I don¡¯t move my eyes they hurt less.


    ¡°Noah, are you with me?¡± The voice is insistent. ¡°Do you want me to treat you?¡±


    It gets quiet. I think I¡¯m supposed to answer.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Please.¡±


    Not hurting sounds good. She said that. It would hurt less. Louise is smart. She wouldn¡¯t have killed him if he were not bad. She can make things better.


    It gets quiet again for a long time. It¡¯s still cold.


    ¡°This will be a while, so get comfortable.¡±


    I¡¯m already in bed. The bed is nice and comfortable. Maybe she¡¯s talking to someone else.


    ¡°Evan, hold him still.¡±


    Something surrounds me. Holds me. I can¡¯t move, but I don¡¯t want to anyway.


    Mom held me once. Mom loved me.


    Something tingles in my mouth and nose.


    I miss you, Mom.


    ¡°Cold,¡± I hear my voice croak.


    ¡°I know buddy, it¡¯s just the fever. You¡¯re going to be OK.¡± That¡¯s Evan. Evan loves me. I don¡¯t miss Evan. He¡¯s not dead.


    I miss Mom.


    I don¡¯t miss Father. Except sometimes. I hated him. But I loved him. It¡¯s better that he¡¯s gone. But it makes it harder. He did a lot. I do it now.


    I miss Jeff, but I don''t. Jeff makes me sad. I hurt Jeff. I am not good.


    ¡°Halfway there,¡± Louise says.


    I am bad. I used my brother and threw him away.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say.


    ¡°Shhh, just be still,¡± Valerie says softly.


    ¡°I should have found a better way.¡±


    ¡°Shhhh.¡±


    If I were smarter, Jeff would be OK. Or if I were braver. Or maybe stronger.


    ¡°He¡¯s clear. Or as clear as I can get him. Keep an eye on him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got him. You two go,¡± that voice is nice. Valerie. I like Valerie, but not like I like Lin. She¡¯s good for Evan. I love Evan. She wears boxers, but I¡¯m not supposed to know that.


    Soft fingers touch my forehead, then something damp. It feels nice. I wonder if Lin¡¯s fingers are soft. Lin likes me, I think. I think I love her. Maybe she could love me one day. Maybe.


    I hurt all over. It¡¯s cold, Mom.


    Make it better, Mom. Make me better. Please.

 Sat 12/23 23:51:43 ICT

    It¡¯s dark outside. I¡¯m thirsty. Someone is snoring.


    I peek one eye open. It hurts. Someone put a bottle of water by my bed. I force myself up enough to gulp it down.


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    It¡¯s good. Not cold, but good.


    Sitting up to drink it hurts though.


    I slump back down and pull the covers tighter.

 Sun 12/24 10:28:19 ICT

    ¡°He¡¯s sweating. The fever broke.¡±


    Something damp touches my forehead. Something cold presses against my chest, sliding under my shirt.


    ¡°His vitals are good. Your trick worked.¡± The voice sounds familiar. ¡°He¡¯s way better than he should be. Can you do that with any disease?¡±


    My eyelids feel so heavy.


    ¡°Only certain virus types now,¡± the voice says, ¡°but I think the principle could extend to any of them. You know, I wasn¡¯t even supposed to know any of this stuff. I was supposed to be a water and power expert. But when Father died, someone had to figure out the implant, and it turned out I had some aptitude.¡±


    I finally get my eyes to open. Two girls who I¡¯m sure I know are sitting by my bed. I should remember their names, but for some reason I can¡¯t.


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    ¡°That¡¯s an understatement,¡± one says to the other. ¡°You ever think of doing medical school?¡± I try to say something, but it just comes out as a groan. The two of them turn my way.


    ¡°Good, you¡¯re awake,¡± the one that was just talking says. ¡°Are you up for trying to drink something, Noah?¡±


    ¡°Water. Please,¡± I croak. The words actually come out right-ish this time.


    ¡°Coming right up.¡±


    I sit up, which is painful. Less bad than when I woke up in the night, but everything still hurts. She hands me a bottle. It¡¯s cool. It feels good going down.


    ¡°I want you to stay in bed today,¡± she says in a tone that demands obedience. ¡°Even if you think you can get up, don¡¯t. Bathroom and back if you need it, but you get me to help you with that. Other than that, you¡¯re on strict bed rest.¡±


    She puts what looks like a garage door opener next to the bed.


    ¡°Push the button if you need anything and I¡¯m not here. Even if you just want someone to sit with you.¡±


    I nod weakly. I didn¡¯t want to get up anyway. Everything still hurts. My eyelids still feel heavy. I let them close.

 Mon 12/25 14:12:36 ICT

    My eyes can move now without making me wish I didn¡¯t have them. That¡¯s good. Someone undressed me down to my boxers at some point. I check my implant¡¯s time clock as I start dumping my memory back into my head. I wrote some weird stuff while I was out of it. I hope I didn¡¯t say any of it out loud. It¡¯s afternoon now. Two and a half days are gone, but from what I could catch and record, it sounds like it could have been much worse.


    And today is Christmas. I bet Valerie will celebrate it with me. Maybe we can get some others to do it too. Do they celebrate Christmas in Botswana? I bet Lucie does Christmas, her family was French at one point. I look through the tasks that I missed the last few days and one of them was to make some presents for everyone. Well, too late on that one. My bad for putting my Christmas shopping off to the last minute.


    I sync back up with my bots and feel even more like myself. I¡¯m so small without them. The neat piles of dust from the deck regain mobility and spread through the air. I¡¯m not sure what my fevered brain would have done with them, but Louise probably made a good call having me put them all to sleep.


    To Louise: Thanks.


    From Louise: Hey, sleepyhead. Thanks for what?


    To Louise: Being awesome. And also magically curing me.


    From Louise: It¡¯s only magic until you know how to do it. Glad you¡¯re feeling better. Any symptoms lingering?


    To Louise: I¡¯m a little sore.


    From Louise: Just as well you missed today¡¯s workout then. Andrea worked us so hard. Take it easy today. You don¡¯t have to stay in bed again, but nothing strenuous.


    To Louise: Yes, ma¡¯am.


    I get dressed while I have my bots warm up some soup in the kitchen. It¡¯s handy that one of the region¡¯s best and most common foods is pretty close to my ideal sick day comfort food. I stumble from my room to the main cabin and nearly fall into the chair. If I were smarter, I probably would have dinged for Valerie instead of trying to do this on my own. I¡¯m definitely not back to one hundred percent, because just sitting up to eat has me tired by the time I¡¯m done. I stagger back to my cabin and lie down on the bed for a few minutes.


    While my body still feels weak, my mind seems to be OK. I grab my tablet and check my email. There are a dozen messages from Lin piled up, starting calm and ending with an almost frantic tone. I let myself smile. She cares enough to really worry about me. I pop her a quick message that I was sick but I¡¯m better now.


    I nap for a bit, not too long. Just long enough.


    I head outside. I can rest on the deck just as well as in here. Someone extended the decks on all the cats so the whole convoy basically has a giant shared deck, with flexible sections between boats. Clever. I should get out of the way more often and let people take initiative like this.


    I walk down the new megadeck to cheers that I¡¯m still alive. I wave them off as modestly as I can. It¡¯s nice when people are glad you¡¯re not dead. Keeya and Lucie are also out walking the deck, checking up on everyone, providing drinks and pleasant conversation. I can¡¯t feel Chad, he must be out on ordnance duty.


    Evan steps over and points out to the west. All I see are a riverbank and a lot of trees.


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    ¡°Look man, it¡¯s Thailand.¡±


    ¡°It looks a lot like Laos from here,¡± I reply.


    ¡°Well, this part of Thailand has a lot of Laotians in it. And jungles are notoriously bad at respecting national borders.¡±


    ¡°Go figure.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re doing better man. You scared me for a bit there.¡±


    ¡°Meh, it was just a glorified cold.¡±


    ¡°You do know they call Dengue the bonebreak fever, right?¡± he asks. ¡°Because it feels like your bones are breaking?¡±


    Hmm, I never broke a bone to compare it to, but that sounds right.


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± I answer. ¡°I mean, I know that now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky you had Louise around or you¡¯d be in a world of hurt.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s pretty handy, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget that exceptional nurse,¡± he says with a grin.


    ¡°I had a nurse? Who?¡±


    He gives me a playful punch on the arm, which hurts way more than it should have. I guess Louise is right, I should take it easy.


    It looks like my sibs kept the whole operation running just fine without me. From the count of control boards in the crates, they haven¡¯t missed any of the planned drops. We¡¯re still on schedule, even if we¡¯re no longer a little ahead like we had been. We should still hit China in time for the tech conference, and everything after that was pretty flexible on dates.


    I join Jen and Becky on some deck chairs where they are popping power poles on the Thai side of the river. I even build a few. It¡¯s relaxing enough that I don¡¯t think that Louise or Valerie will get mad at me. The power infrastructure here is mostly based on their natural gas reserves, so every watt that we give them is carbon not going into the air. Not that gas is terrible, it¡¯s a whole lot better than coal or oil, but a big part of Father¡¯s plan¡ªour plan¡ªis making all fossil fuels obsolete as soon as possible.


    It¡¯s a pleasant afternoon listening to the two girls chatter as we sit in the shade. I¡¯m not even sure what they¡¯re talking about half the time. When they get going, they talk really fast and they have so many inside references that I get lost trying to follow. Like they almost have their own language. Doesn¡¯t matter, they¡¯re not looking for input from me anyway. Their conversation just kind of becomes a pleasant white noise after a while.


    The dinner spread comes from both sides of the river tonight, with Thai curries and noodles supplementing the now-familiar Laotian food. It¡¯s the same kind of relaxed large gathering as before I got sick. My family is kind of awesome these days.


    Chad comes streaking through the sky at full speed, landing smoothly on the deck near me to a round of applause from my sisters.


    ¡°Noah! You¡¯re up!¡± he declares. ¡°Glad you¡¯re feeling better.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I¡¯m glad too. How was mine duty?¡±


    ¡°Another nice wide swath all the way to Vietnam and back.¡±


    ¡°Good job, man. I¡¯ll take it tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°No, you won¡¯t,¡± Valerie says firmly, coming up from behind him with Louise next to her. ¡°You¡¯ll stay on the boats where I can keep an eye on you.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I concede. ¡°Maybe the day after.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see how you do tomorrow,¡± Louise says.


    ¡°I better turn in early then,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve got work to do.¡±


    The lights all go out suddenly. What¡¯s going on? I see a light floating out on the water. Green, then red, then all sorts of colors, spreading and growing. A Christmas tree made of pure light sprouts up, a hundred meters tall, lighting up the boats and the river. It¡¯s the most spectacular display I¡¯ve ever seen, with small intricate scenes nestled in every branch with snowmen, nativity scenes, angels, bells, giant glowing presents with big bows on top, and a dozen tableaus starring Santa Claus. Each image is more detailed than the last. And they¡¯re all moving, lifelike, beautiful.


    ¡°Oh, Andrea!¡± I say, almost lost for words. ¡°It¡¯s amazing.¡±


    She comes over and leans down to put her arms around me.


    ¡°She organized it, but we all helped,¡± Evan says. All my classmates nod and smile. ¡°We¡¯ve been working on it for a while now. We saw how sad you were last year on Christmas and decided you might like it. Merry Christmas, brother.¡±


    It must be dusty out here. I¡¯m definitely not crying.

 Mon 12/27 11:01:11 ICT

    Louise gives me one last check-up before we get off the boats and declares me virus-free. I¡¯ve been feeling just about full strength today, but it¡¯s nice to have confirmation.


    Vientiane, the capital of Laos, is more mellow than the other capitals were. Where Phnom Penh bustled with tuk tuks and cars, and Ho Chi Minh had its crazy rush of scooters, Vientiane has a little of everything on its sparsely populated streets. The van we hired doesn¡¯t have any trouble getting us from the boat to the press event a little early.


    I start our presentation with our report on clearing bombs and mines, which gets us a standing ovation right off. I do my regular spiel about the filters and all that, but this time at the end of it I get to tell them about our results so far. The sensors on the collectors in the delta are already reporting a 90% decrease in every kind of pollutant we can measure. Chad breaks out the details, presenting charts with the before and after levels along with the estimates for increased crop yields, fish harvests, and other benefits. Thunderous applause greets every line he delivers, which makes us all feel pretty good about things.


    Once we¡¯ve done our PR duties, we get to take a couple hours to go sightseeing. We see a few temples, each one decorated mostly in gold. The architecture here is distinct and very ornate. While I normally like seeing whatever cool buildings a new city has to offer, my favorite part of this town is the Buddha park with a whole bunch of statues ranging from the conventional seated Buddhas to huge multi-faced and multi-limbed titans.


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    Simok and Mek take us to a French-Asian fusion restaurant which is amazing. The duck in a citrusy curry sauce might be one of the best things I¡¯ve ever put in my mouth. At least the best thing I can remember. There¡¯s no rush to get back on the boats, so we linger for a while after the meal, taking our time to choose from their extensive dessert menu. I get what would have been a very classic French tart, but with mangos and longans filling it instead of the traditional apples or pears. Evan and Valerie are cute sharing their chocolate mousse. I hope Lin and I are fun to be around like they are.


    I get in one of the vans the guides arranged and we get to the boats just after sunset. Once we have the catamarans unmoored and floating up into the river again, I breathe a sigh of relief. No more press parties this trip. I put the fleet on autopilot and check the trip map. Looks like we should hit the next dam just after morning workout. I wonder if Andrea will let me skip one more day before I get back on the exercise train.

 Wed 01/03 09:21:19 ICT

    Dear Ms. Liu,


    I¡¯m looking forward to seeing you in a few days. The river here is very peaceful. There is a lot of jungle, but not a lot of people. We have our younger siblings well trained at this point, and they have been able to take care of all the filter installations. This lets the older siblings concentrate on clearing out landmines and unexploded bombs left over from the wars of the last century. We¡¯re finding less of them on this side of the country than we did earlier in the trip, but every one we remove could be a life we save.


    I¡¯m excited to discuss our technology at the conference. The names you have mentioned all have very impressive reputations in their respective fields.


    My sister Louise has been working on a couple of new projects which you might be interested in. One of them in particular seems useful to recovering cancer patients. It allows our nanobots to permanently reside in a patient¡¯s bloodstream to monitor their health and make sure that tumors don¡¯t reoccur. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s an issue in your case, but if it is, we could make sure that you are taken care of.


    How have you been feeling lately? Has your health been good?


    Your friend,


    Noah Kimball


    Lin lost her unfiltered, unmonitored internet connection when she came down from Beijing, so we¡¯re back to pretending like we¡¯re just casual friends. It¡¯s frustrating, but it also means we¡¯re very close to getting to see each other again. The Chinese border is just up ahead and the estate where we¡¯re meeting is just below the first dam inside China. We should be there this afternoon if we don¡¯t run into any problems.


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    I¡¯m not on mine duty for half an hour and I need something to occupy my mind, so I recheck the specs on the industrial pollution scrubbers that we¡¯ll be installing over the next couple of weeks. Assuming things go well with the General, that is. According to the notes in my index, we tested the scrubbers on the best duplicates we could make of the factories we plan to install them on, but you never know for sure with these things until you try them in the field. The plans are flexible enough that we should be able to adapt them up to whatever we find. That was the idea, anyway. I guess we¡¯ll see how well we did once we reach the first install site. We kept the schedule loose in case it takes longer to customize things than planned.


    It¡¯s hard to focus on work with my reunion with Lin coming up. We¡¯ll definitely have company the first time we meet again, including her father, so I¡¯m trying to decide on the best way to greet her. I¡¯ve decided on something along the lines of ¡°Lin, it¡¯s so good to see you again,¡± with a double-hand handshake. Warm, but not overly familiar. Then we try to act as casual as we can until we can get some time alone, when we hopefully make out like crazy. Her last message mentioned that she asked for a tour of the estate¡¯s security office and was very thorough in checking to make sure we would all be very safe there. If I¡¯m reading the implications in her message right, she¡¯ll have checked the place out and figured out where all the blind spots are for their security cameras.


    ¡°Come on, brother,¡± Evan says, pulling me from my reverie. ¡°One more flyover then you can go see your girl.¡±


    ¡°Right, let¡¯s go then.¡±


    We suit up and head out to the east, spreading out so that our clouds just barely overlap. At this point, there¡¯s not a lot of mines or unexploded bombs to find, since not much got dropped here. I get a couple of hits, but they¡¯re both just old shrapnel. I grind it all to fine dust.


    The Chinese border curves south to where it¡¯s only a dozen klicks away from the river in this section. We¡¯re not authorized to fly in Chinese airspace, so today¡¯s cleanup is a pretty short flight. I turn around to cut one last swath through the jungle on our way back and Evan follows behind me.


    I¡¯m so excited to see Lin.

 Thu 01/04 13:52:53 ICT

    The estate looms ahead, a monument to the wealth and power of the Chinese elite resting on the clifftop of the narrow canyon. There¡¯s nothing else nearby. The nearest man-made structure is the dam a few klicks up the river. We pull up to the small dock, moor our catamaran, and then chain the rest behind it since there¡¯s no room for them. An impeccably dressed older gentleman steps from an open elevator built into the cliffside. I don¡¯t have him indexed, so I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯s staff here or a VIP I didn¡¯t expect. He walks our way and waves in greeting.


    ¡°Hello, I¡¯m Noah Kimball,¡± I say, extending a hand to shake. According to my instruction sheet from the PR team, this is my best bet for introducing myself when I¡¯m not sure who I¡¯m talking to.


    ¡°Indeed you are. And you may call me Mr. Wu,¡± he says in perfect English. His grip is firm but friendly. ¡°Welcome. Please, come this way. Leave anything you want in your rooms on the dock and our staff will bring it up.¡±


    We all grab and stack a few things, then head up the stairs. Our guides wave goodbye. Translators are provided for us here, so they¡¯ll wait in the boats until we¡¯re done.


    The elevator is huge, easily big enough for our whole group. As it ascends, a gorgeous view of the river and the surrounding forested countryside expands below us, with nothing between us and the open air but a short railing. I want to talk to this Mr. Wu, hopefully figure out who he is and what his role is here, but he fills the whole time of the elevator ride greeting each of my siblings by name and complimenting each of them on their roles in the various PR events we¡¯ve done on this trip. He even knows Keeya and Lucie¡¯s names, and they weren¡¯t listed on any of our official press documents. Whoever this guy is, he¡¯s done his homework.


    I do a quick sweep of the exterior of the estate with my cloud. The place is huge. Palatial. There doesn¡¯t seem to be any connecting road leading to it, just a helicopter pad on the side opposite from the cliff. According to the satellite maps in my index, there aren¡¯t any other docks along the river between the last dam and the next. Half a dozen guards armed with assault rifles patrol the perimeter beyond the helipad. This place is about as secure and isolated as anywhere could possibly be.


    At the top of the lift, a woman greets us at a pair of big double doors. My facial recognition kicks in and tells me that she is Yang Song, Lin¡¯s translator, bodyguard, and lately personal trainer. She welcomes us with all the warmth of an iceberg pretending to be a sunny beach. I think she¡¯s trying to be friendly, but she doesn¡¯t seem to have it in her to make it work. Pleasantries exchanged, she and Mr. Wu lead us into an entry area that makes the huge foyer in the Residence back home feel like a broom closet.


    And there she is.


    Lin stands there looking stunning in a red dress very much like the one that she wore to the dinner back at the Residence. The dress she wore when she first kissed me on the cheek. A red silk wrap covers her short hair. She¡¯s stunning. So much more beautiful than the pictures in my index. I snap a dozen new images with my bots and stash them in my electronic brain.


    I¡¯m so enthralled with her I can barely register that there are other people in the room that I need to acknowledge. Like her broad-shouldered, uniformed father standing next to her.


    ¡°General Liu,¡± I say, as I shake his strong hand. I lower my eyes respectfully like my index reminds me to do. ¡°It is good to finally meet you. We appreciate all your help in setting up this visit to your country.¡±


    ¡°It was my pleasure,¡± he says in English. He speaks well, though with a strong accent. ¡°Your family has given me a very precious gift. I hope that our future exchanges can continue to be as beneficial for both of our families.¡±


    Mr. Wu starts introducing him down the line of my family. Finally, I get a chance to greet Lin. One look at her eyes and smile and everything else in the room disappears again.


    ¡°Ms. Liu, you look very well,¡± I say, barely keeping up the pretense of formality thanks to the reminders floating in my vision. In front of her father and Yang Song, we are just pen-pals. I take her hand in mine and try not to let the electricity I feel show on my face.


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    Her expression doesn¡¯t betray any feelings she might have until the tinies of smiles escapes her mask of perfect seriousness. She lets go of my hand and follows her father down the line, greeting the rest of the group. Her nearly perfect English is even more impressive in person. She could pass as born in America if she wanted to. I try very hard to keep my gaze respectfully on her face, but in that dress it¡¯s so hard not to run my eyes up and down her body.


    ¡°You must be tired from your journey,¡± Mr. Wu says. ¡°My staff will show you to your rooms.¡±


    His staff? He must be the mysterious benefactor hosting us. This luxurious clifftop palace is his vacation home. I need to get Alan to research this guy the next chance I get.


    As one of the dozen silent servants leads me to my room, I get a chance to feel the inside of this place out. My mapping algorithm quickly identifies dozens of bedrooms, each with a private bathroom, and a couple of very large spaces that could comfortably fit a large hotel ballroom inside. Another half-dozen guards patrol the hallways, these ones armed with more discrete pistols. I notice that there is a section on the second floor that I¡¯m getting nothing from. The bots I send that way disconnect with a pinprick. Must be electromagnetically shielded or something. I¡¯ll have to check on that later when I have time and attention to spare.


    The whole place is opulently furnished. As I reach my bedroom, I get a look with my human eyes and see that it¡¯s better equipped than the fancy suites at any of the luxury hotels this trip. The bathroom is clearly designed with Westerners in mind, since it has the standard toilet I¡¯m used to instead of the squat toilet that I worried I might need to learn to use. I feel Lin coming down the hallway in this direction. She taps lightly at my door and I swing it open with my bots.


    ¡°Noah, my friend,¡± she says, her voice carefully casual as she steps into the room. ¡°I¡¯m glad you have come here. This is a safe place.¡±


    Her pulse is racing, her clear excitement not at all matching her voice. Something is definitely funny with that wording. I reach out more carefully with my bots and feel a hidden camera in the wall opposite the door. From its vantage point and the curvature of its lens, I think it can see most of the room.


    A safe place. Security. Right.


    ¡°Thank you, Ms. Liu,¡± I say in an equally casual tone, since we¡¯re certainly being recorded. ¡°It was so kind of you and your father to invite us here. We are looking forward to our stay in your country.¡±


    She takes my hand and leads me to the corner of the room just next to the camera. Her biometrics are screaming attraction. She pushes me against the wall and pulls my head down for a long, silent kiss.


    ¡°Please, tell me more about your journey here,¡± she says conversationally as the kiss ends. ¡°I have so enjoyed getting your letters.¡±


    ¡°Well, we started in Vietnam in Ho Chi Minh City,¡± I say as she digs her nails into my back and begins quietly kissing my neck. ¡°The city was very nice to visit, there were a lot of interesting sights to see.¡±


    Oh wow, that feels good. I talk for a couple of minutes as she continues, then ask her about her trip here.


    ¡°We took a flight from Beijing. Traffic was unusually heavy along the route to the airport because of some construction,¡± she begins. She tells me every tiny detail of the drive, flight, and helicopter ride she took to get here. Careful to be silent and to stay out of the camera¡¯s field of vision, I press her against the wall and kiss her anywhere that won¡¯t leave her clothes and makeup out of order or interrupt her talking for the bugs.


    It¡¯s not the reunion I would have planned, but it¡¯s amazing in a sneaky, sexy way. Lin is just starting to ask her next question so we can trade off talking when I feel Yang Song coming down the hallway. I disengage and point to the door as I start to talk about our visit to Phnom Penh. She gets the hint and by the time her bodyguard arrives, we are very properly seated across the room from each other, talking in a very respectable way about the importance of the Lancang River¡ªusing the Chinese name for the Mekong¡ªto the people of Cambodia.


    I use my bots to remove the traces of lipstick from my mouth, face, and neck just in time for Yang Song to open the door without knocking. She looks relieved to see Lin. She says something to her quickly in Chinese.


    ¡°I¡¯ve just been catching up with my pen pal,¡± Lin says innocently in English. ¡°But I would be happy to help you finish the arrangements for dinner.¡± She turns her face back to me. ¡°Noah, it was good to speak with you again. I will see you tonight.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you then,¡± I say. ¡°It was good to catch up with you, too. Please, thank your father again for helping with the arrangements for our trip, and Mr. Wu for hosting us here.¡±

 Thu 01/04 18:51:24 ICT

    My bag arrives at my room just in time for me to change into some formal gear for dinner. Smoothing out the wrinkles with my bots as I stroll down the hallway, meeting up with most of my siblings on the way to the cavernous dining room. A dozen other guests are already there. I recognize most of them from files that Alan sent me.


    General Liu greets us as we enter. He¡¯s standing next to a tall, thin man who stands out in the room both for his height and for his unruly mane of brown hair.


    ¡°Professor,¡± the General says, ¡°I present the children of the late Tom Butler.¡± He turns back to us. ¡°Professor Max Braun is on sabbatical from his position teaching neuroscience at the Ludwig Maximilian University in Munich and asked to meet you before the conference tomorrow.¡±


    The name and face trigger in my index. He¡¯s a big name in the field, one of the obvious picks Alan figured would be here. I¡¯m surprised at his age; he¡¯s forty years old, but looks young enough to pass for thirty. I read one of his books last year as part of Father¡¯s school curriculum, though I¡¯d have to re-read it to remember a thing about it. My index also pops up a reference to his paper from this year on human-machine neural interfaces. His research is very close to being able to replicate Father¡¯s second generation implant, the one my siblings had when I arrived at the Butler Institute campus.


    ¡°The Butler family, what an honor to meet you!¡± the professor says in a light German accent. His vitals show excitement matching his exuberant tone. ¡°I am such a believer in your father¡¯s work. I wrote the thesis for my doctorate on his technology. I even met with him several times when I was writing some of my books, though he was always hesitant to impart any details.¡±


    That¡¯s not unexpected. The inner workings of the implant and bots were Father¡¯s most closely held secrets. Even with all of Father¡¯s notes and instructions, we¡¯re still trying to figure out how some of it works. He¡¯s the kind of serious researcher that could be very helpful to us if we ever decide to collaborate with anyone outside of our own campus. I scan through his biography. Like Father, he started in medicine and switched to engineering, but unlike Father, he stayed in academia.


    ¡°Please, forgive me,¡± he continues. ¡°I arrived early for the conference, hoping to make your acquaintance. I hope that was not too presumptuous. The good General was kind enough to accommodate my request.¡±


    To Louise: You know about this guy? His research is right up your alley.


    From Louise: You''re talking to his biggest fan! I¡¯ve read every one of his books. I think he might be smarter than Father. Can we keep him?


    ¡°Nothing to forgive, Professor Braun,¡± Louise says, keeping her voice calmer than the thoughts she just sent me. ¡°We¡¯re honored to meet a great mind interested in our work.¡±


    ¡°You flatter me,¡± he responds, a smile stretching across his lean face. ¡°And please, call me Max.¡±


    The two of them quickly get into a conversation that¡¯s way above my head. About all I can follow is that his theories already line up with how Father¡¯s third generation implant works. I quickly forget all about them, because Lin enters the room, Yang Song at her side. I don¡¯t know how she did it, but she¡¯s even more beautiful now than she was earlier. She¡¯s swapped the traditional Chinese dress from earlier for a more western-style cocktail dress somewhere between blue and green and her short hair peeks out from under her elaborate headwrap of interwoven silk and flowers.


    ¡°Please, come take your seats,¡± the General says, loudly enough to be heard across the room. ¡°Our host, Mr. Wu, will not be joining us tonight, but he asked me to make sure you all felt at home.¡±


    The crowd turns toward the large, round table at the center of the room. The General, glancing at Louise and Max, reaches over and rearranges a few of the place cards, changing the  seating arrangement to put them next to each other on the other side of Lin from me. The switch puts me between Lin and her father.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    It¡¯s everything I can do to stay calm and handle talking to both of them as they serve the tea and begin the meal.


    The staff starts bringing out one exquisite course after another. I keep referring to my index for etiquette tips to make sure that I don¡¯t embarrass myself, everything from being careful not to put my chopsticks poking upwards in my food to how to politely decline drinking baijiu, the hard liquor the General uses after a few appetizers to toast our arrival and our work on the river. As he sits down, Lin smiles mischievously and runs her fingertips across my thigh beneath the table. I try hard to keep the blood from rushing to my face.


    I hope my siblings aren¡¯t committing any major breaches of etiquette, but I¡¯m way too preoccupied to pay any attention to them. It¡¯s funny. I can feel every leaf and tree of jungle in an area a thousand times the size of this room, but with Lin and her father on either side of me I can hardly see anything but her, and I can¡¯t focus on anything other than not looking like an idiot in front of him.


    Lin keeps her hands to herself for the rest of the meal, which is good because I don¡¯t think I could keep my face straight if she had decided to try anything else sneaky under the table. It¡¯s hard enough to try to maintain the pretense of not being crazy about her as we make casual conversation. Her father, once his duties as host settle down, is very interested in our technology and asks a lot of questions about how the interface to the implant works and what the limits of the clouds¡¯ capabilities are. I¡¯m relieved to have something to talk about that I know well and won¡¯t get me caught as Lin¡¯s secret boyfriend.


    He also asks about the factory pollution filters that we want to install in China. He seems optimistic that once we do a proof-of-concept on one facility, proving that they work and have no negative impact on operations, that he¡¯ll be able to smooth out permissions for the rest of the places we want to install them. The talk gets pretty technical about how the maintainer bots on the filters work, but the General impresses me by keeping up. Lin is following along as well, asking questions that make it clear that she understands what I¡¯m talking about better than her father does. Gorgeous, smart, and geeky. I struggle not to turn and just stare at her.


    The meal goes on for a couple of hours. Across the table, Chad and his girlfriends are happily sipping the baijiu and talking quietly with each other. Louise and Max are deep down the implant technology rabbit hole. The rest of my siblings seem to be doing well at finding things to talk about with the other guests. Well, everyone except Andrea, who is mesmerizing the two scientists seated next her with a small holographic fleet of boats crewed by stick figures floating up a small river of light above her plate.


    Rising, the General offers one more toast, this time to Lin, to her health, and to the family that cured her. We all applaud. Lin stands and pulls Louise to her feet, and one of the staff produces a red-wrapped gift box that Lin hands to her. Louise unwraps it to find a jewel-encrusted golden dragon clearly modeled after the one Andrea made for Lin. If the gems are real and it¡¯s solid gold¡ªand my bots tell me the densities are right for that¡ªit¡¯s worth a fortune.


    The toast and gift seem to signal permission for the guests to disperse, and most of the group does. Louise and Max stay at the table, too deep in their conversation at this point to even notice what¡¯s going on around them. Max has his napkin spread out where his plate had been and the two of them are scrawling diagrams and equations scrawled all over it.


    Lin asks her father something in Chinese and on receiving his answer, she escorts me out one of the dining room¡¯s side doors. She leads me down a hallway and out onto a balcony overlooking the river. The view under the bright moonlight is incredible with the twists and turns of the river flowing through the dark jungle below. I peer over the railing, the boats down below look so small from here.


    ¡°Come, you can see the river better from here,¡± she says loudly, stepping away from the balcony¡¯s edge to a space between two pillars. I follow, stepping into the one place out of the view of either of the security cameras on the balcony. She takes my hands and pulls them to her waist. I go in for a kiss, but she moves her lips past my mouth and to my ear.


    ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you, Noah,¡± she whispers, her voice no louder than a breath. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting so long for this. They¡¯re listening, but if we¡¯re lucky we¡¯ve got some time before anyone will come looking for us.¡±


    ¡°Please, Ms. Liu,¡± I say aloud as she traces her fingertips down my spine and her lips across my cheek, ¡°tell me more about your home in Beijing. I¡¯ve heard the city is beautiful.¡±

 Fri 01/05 06:59:43 ICT

    I¡¯m somewhere new. The place isn¡¯t moving, so it¡¯s not a boat. Where am I? And why do I think I should be on a boat? I start reading. This will all make sense soon, I¡¯m sure.


    While I¡¯m getting my brain back together, I try to figure out the fancy shower in my bathroom. The controls have a lot of buttons and they¡¯re all labelled in Chinese. I press a few at random and get three streams of water flowing from three different nozzles. Now, if I can just get the temperature right...


    From Evan: So, I noticed you didn¡¯t get back to your room until late.


    To Evan: That sounds really good. I hope that happened and you¡¯re not just messing with me. Give me a few, I still need to finish reading in my memory from yesterday.


    From Evan: Haha, don¡¯t make me wait too long. And no, I¡¯m not messing with you.


    I give up on the shower for a minute and shave instead as I speed through the rest of my morning read.


    To Evan: All right, I¡¯m current. Lin is even more awesome in person than she was long-distance.


    From Evan: So things went well?


    To Evan: Extremely well.


    From Evan: Do we need to make plans for a quick getaway or a shotgun wedding or anything?


    To Evan: Only if the General finds out.


    From Evan: You are crazy, my brother.


    To Evan: Crazy about Lin, yeah.


    I fiddle with a few more buttons, but still only get cold water.


    To Evan: Hey, did we ever try to put a translator into the interface? I could really use some help reading Chinese right now.


    From Evan: We talked about it, but the appliances don¡¯t have enough processing power to do a good job. If you just want to do a bad job at reading, you could probably hook up character recognition and a dictionary.


    To Evan: Nevermind, I figured out how to turn the hot water on.


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    I step into the streams and enjoy the sensation of being completely enveloped in water. I wonder if I can get a shower like this back home.


    From Evan: Anyway, good for you. I¡¯ve got to finish getting ready for the conference. Can I stop by in a few and run through my presentation with you?


    To Evan: Sounds good. Give me ten to get showered and dressed.


    I¡¯m less worried about my talk, everything is already prepared in the electronic part of my brain. It¡¯s really not all bad, as far as disabilities go. I dry off and get dressed. Nothing too formal today, if the people I¡¯m starting to feel coming into the estate from the helicopter pad outside are any indication. I pick a dark green button-up shirt and a nice pair of slacks.


    I continue reaching out with my cloud, getting a feel for who all is here. A few dozen people that weren¡¯t here yesterday have arrived some time this morning and are milling around in the cavernous hollow of the entry. Index entries pop up for almost everyone in the room. Good job, Alan. I can¡¯t feel anyone else around the estate, so unless they¡¯re in that shielded area upstairs, I think the people we saw last night and the folks in the lobby are it for the conference. That shielded zone bothers me, I¡¯ll see if I can have Lin or the General get me a tour later so I can see what¡¯s jamming my cloud there.


    I focus back on the entry area where the attendees are and scan the area thoroughly. No one else seems to have any kind of working nanotech at play right now. There¡¯s no unusual signal activity that I can tell, and nothing tiny moving around in a way that makes me think it¡¯s a bot of any kind. Looks like the Butlers are still the only ones with the capability to casually run bots wherever we go. I form a few dozen mics and eyes around the room so I can snoop a little and get an idea of what¡¯s going on before I head down there. Most of the talk is in languages I don¡¯t know, but the stuff I catch in English sounds like old colleagues reacquainting themselves with each other and getting updated.


    My bots feel the General in there, off in one corner with Mr. Wu. I slide a mic near them to listen in. Our host is saying something quietly in Chinese to General Liu, but the General¡¯s expressions and vitals are confusing. I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re saying, but from the tone and response it seems like the General is getting a dressing down of some kind. The General¡¯s vitals show me that he¡¯s getting furious, but he¡¯s carefully keeping it off of his face. At the end, Mr. Wu says something briefly, dismissively, and the General hurries off to the breakfast spread and returns with a steaming cup of hot water and serves it to him with a bow. That¡¯s not a casual thing here, he¡¯s showing a lot of deference. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s going on, but if I had to guess, it seems like the General is in trouble for something.


    I should have indexed more about the power structures at play here. I thought I had everyone at the top levels of government and business in my electronic brain, but I clearly missed a big player. I don¡¯t know who ranks high enough to boss a general around like this. It¡¯s all just weird.


    I don¡¯t feel Lin anywhere yet, which probably means she¡¯s still in a bedroom or bathroom. I¡¯m tempted for a moment to break my normal restraints and find her. Then I figure at some point soon, as she gets a better understanding of what I can do with the bots, we¡¯ll be having a conversation about how much I¡¯ve invaded her privacy already. I want to have good answers when that happens. I wish I¡¯d had time last night to get Alan working on Mr. Wu¡¯s identity, but my time last night with Lin had me so twisted up I completely spaced it until now, and now I barely have time to help Evan before the conference starts.


    And there¡¯s my brother coming down the hall now. I pull the door open just before he can knock on it. ¡°Let¡¯s get to work then,¡± I tell him.

 Fri 01/05 08:41:52 ICT

    One of the staff intercepts Evan and me in the hallway almost as soon as we leave my room and escorts us to where the other guests are mingling. He indicates the spread of steamed buns and beverages along one wall, then leaves us. The labels on the food are in a dozen languages, thankfully including English. I grab one of the custard-filled buns and Evan gets one that smells like some kind of sausage. Across the room, Max is already introducing Louise around to a bunch of the academics. He seems to know all of them. General Liu spots Evan and I and comes over to greet us warmly, then leads us to the nearest other guest. Mr. Wu is nowhere to be seen, but the General seems to have recovered his composure from his dressing-down earlier.


    ¡°Noah, Evan, this is Dr. Morozov,¡± the General says, indicating a solidly built older man with a dark beard. ¡°Dr. Morozov, two of the Butler children, Noah and Evan.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so good to make your acquaintance,¡± Morozov says, his thick Russian accent putting him right on the border of incomprehensible. My index kicks in and the work Alan and I have been doing starts to pay off.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± I tell him. ¡°Congratulations on your Russian Federation State Prize last year. Your work with silicon nanofibers was fascinating.¡± He seems surprised that I recognized him, and a smile cracks what looks like a very serious face.


    He starts to reply but the General is already whisking us away to meet more guests. We meet a couple of Americans next: Harold Skinner, a West coast tech guy and Xavier Black, an East coast heavy industry guy who¡¯s mostly done weapons manufacturing lately. Then Heinrich Bekker from South Africa, and an Iranian woman that I didn¡¯t have indexed, Yasmin Darvish. I guess I can¡¯t complain that we didn¡¯t get all the attendees, given how well Alan did in figuring out who might be here. The rest of them seem just as impressed as Dr. Morozov that I know about them. I hope Yasmin doesn¡¯t feel slighted.


    General Liu pulls us to a larger cluster of Asian men and women. I think they¡¯re speaking in Chinese, but I¡¯m not great at telling languages I don¡¯t know apart from each other. Index entries almost overcrowd my vision and my eyes flicker frantically for a second to get all of their entries arranged. Three of them are from China, one from Singapore, and two from South Korea. There¡¯s also a Japanese guy that introduces himself as Tanaka Isamu who I don¡¯t have in my index. None of them seems to need an interpreter when I say something nice about their recent papers or awards. I apologize to Tanaka Isamu for not being familiar with his work. He takes it in good humor and praises our work in Hawaii and on the river in flawless English.


    Glancing at his very expensive-looking watch, the General raises his voice and formally welcomes everyone, first in Chinese then again in English. I think it was Chinese, anyway. The chatter in the room dies down and he leads the way down a hall and through a massive set of double doors into a room equipped with rows of chairs, a podium, and a large projector screen. My siblings and I get seated up on the front row. I guess we¡¯re the guests of honor. Max takes the extra chair on our row next to Louise.


    ¡°And now,¡± declared the General, ¡°our keynote speakers. The heirs of Tom Butler!¡±


    We¡¯re on the hook for three presentations, and Louise is up first. Ignoring the projector, she steps up to the podium and creates a slowly rotating three-dimensional model of a brain in the air above the center aisle between the chairs. The projection sprouts a glowing squid-like tangle of highlighted tumors. It only takes me a moment to realize that this is Lin¡¯s brain scan. Louise discusses the application of nanobots to remove inoperable tumors. It seems like it should be old news, since Father did this kind of procedure regularly for almost two decades, but I guess he never published his work, because the presentation gets thunderous applause.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Evan gets up next and talks about the staple of our world-saving effort, using our nanobots as massive, scalable three-dimensional printers. He puts up a screen and shows images of Father¡¯s solar fields and our trips to Africa, talking through the water and power solutions we¡¯ve done so far. Then he talks through the more recent images from Hawaii and the Mekong, describing the way that building on site using locally sourced materials made it possible for such a small group of people to make such a huge difference. Finally, he does some quick demonstration builds, putting together a solar panel and a battery on the floor of the conference room using the materials in a few of the flooring tiles.


    I wonder for a moment if we¡¯ll get in trouble for breaking the floor, but then I see Mr. Wu. He¡¯s standing way in the back corner, clapping and smiling like Evan just gave him the best birthday present ever.


    I take the podium next and talk about the next steps that the Butler Institute is planning to take. I explain the potential for the bots to solve resource scarcity. Drawing on the Geologists¡¯ work, I describe how we plan to mine raw materials without the expense and risk of underground mining or the environmental devastation of open pit mining. I lay out the agricultural applications to drastically expand arable land through desalination and water distribution systems that deliver exactly the required amount of water to each plant. I close my talk with the potential to revolutionize pharmaceutical development and production with nanotech-driven dispensaries that can produce a whole slew of drugs on demand with only some basic chemical supplies as ingredients.


    While we¡¯ve done proof-of-concepts for all these things, my talk is more speculative than either of my sibs¡¯ talks, since we haven¡¯t done much of it on a large scale yet. I think it went pretty well as I step back to my seat. The other guests seem impressed anyway. I only wish Lin had been here to see it. Where is she, anyway? I still haven¡¯t felt her anywhere yet today.


    Oh well. At least that makes it easier to pay attention to the conference for now.


    The next speaker gets up and starts talking. He¡¯s the Singaporean I met earlier, Xin Tan. He talks about the potential for nanobots to augment infantry soldiers, giving them tremendous situational awareness on the battlefield and using them to manufacture super high-strength body armor. Yasmin Darvish, the Iranian I hadn¡¯t recognized, has diagrams for how you could assassinate someone using a single nanobot, with techniques from puncturing heart valves to scrambling brains. She¡¯s got algorithms with diagrams for each technique. I just about fall out of my chair when Isamu describes what he calls a Gray Goo Bomb, allowing unrestrained bot self-replication with either a time limit or some geographical constraints, letting them consume literally everything in the target range.


    To Evan: This isn¡¯t a tech conference. This is a weapons show. We brought the bots to a weapons show!


    From Evan: Yeah, I know! What do we do?


    I see  my siblings cringing in their seats. The rest of the guests seem perfectly at ease, many even register excitement as they watch Isamu present charts comparing the destructive potential of conventional, nuclear, and nano attacks. The only exception seems to be Max, who looks just as appalled as we are.


    To Evan: I don¡¯t know. This is awful. At least we know now what these people want to do if they get their hands on tech like ours. We need to make sure they never do.


    I nod to him. Chad leans forward and looks over at me, his face not hiding his rage at all.


    From Chad: This can¡¯t stand. We need to shut this down hard.


    To Chad: I agree, but don¡¯t jump on anything yet. We need to listen first and see how far along any of these programs are.


    He pulls himself together and slowly nods at me.


    To All: Sit tight. We¡¯re going to find out everything we can, then we¡¯re going to make sure that none of this ever becomes real.

 Fri 01/05 14:03:12 ICT

    The presentations go on, each one more horrifying than the last in how they want to twist and pervert Father¡¯s legacy. Disintegration clouds, delayed action assassinations, excruciators, nano-plagues, and human puppetry are just scratching the surface. Fortunately, none of them¡ªnot one¡ªhas a working nanobot anywhere near the scale they would need to make any of their ideas a reality. None of the competing designs are even close, though given time or some of our units to reverse engineer, they¡¯d probably get it eventually. I regret the tech licensing that we did for Antonio Campos, even though with the limited control scheme we released, most of these horrific options wouldn¡¯t work.


    Dr. Morozov is speaking, a particularly painful presentation both from his terrible English and grotesque ideas. I feel around the room. All the guests have spoken now except Max, whose vitals are showing even more extreme agitation than my siblings.


    Finally the Russian concludes his presentation. I carefully refrain from sighing in relief. General Liu takes the podium. He speaks in Chinese with Yang Song translating into English next to him.


    ¡°The potential for both profit and power from this technology is unlimited. The age of governments is drawing to a close, and a new age is dawning, an age where a single man with the right tools can stand victorious against armies. We have the knowledge, we have the will, we only lacked the key. Until today.¡±


    Oh, so that¡¯s what this is all about. It¡¯s time to take over the world. Or overthrow it. Or something else equally stupid.


    ¡°The Butler family and their SynTech corporation have possessed the essential ingredient to remaking the world for decades. They have squandered it under the leadership of Tom Butler. They have hoarded this priceless treasure, using it for barely profitable medical ventures while hiding in a closed citadel in America, only recently emerging to do anything with the precious powers they possess.¡±


    He waits a moment for the applause to die down. I get a sick sensation like I¡¯ve just been punched in the gut. My sibs don¡¯t look like they¡¯re doing any better.


    ¡°Children,¡± he says slowly, running his eyes along our row of chairs, ¡°this is your opportunity to renounce the legacy of inaction that your father embodied.¡± He pauses for effect. ¡°You have made great strides in coming here, and now it is time to share the gift you have received from your father with those who can bring it to its full potential. I understand that not all of you will be able to join us. Some of you will be too indoctrinated in your limited and outdated worldviews. I give each of you the opportunity now to join in the future that begins in this room today.¡±


    He waits expectantly, looking first at me, then at Evan, then on down the row, taking a long look at each of my siblings until his gaze reaches Louise. He¡¯s clearly hoping that one of us will take him up on his offer.


    ¡°General Liu,¡± I say from my seat after a minute of uncomfortable silence. ¡°With all due respect, we have a different vision for what our technology can mean for the world. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll find that any of us are on board for what we¡¯ve seen here today.¡±


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    He gives me a long look, then sweeps his eyes along the row again. ¡°Do you all feel this way?¡± he asks slowly.


    Every one of my siblings nods.


    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡± he prods. ¡°I would very much prefer to have your willing cooperation.¡±


    We all give him hard stares.


    ¡°That is unfortunate,¡± he says coldly, turning away and walking to the corner of the room. The silence in the room fills me with dread. I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re going to need to fight our way out of here. I start pulling my bots near.


    To Evan: Lethal or non-lethal?


    He looks my way and then I hear a distant clack of high heels on tile. My flow of bots feel someone familiar coming down the hallway. My many eyes recognize Dorothy James walking down the hallway toward the conference room. She¡¯s the last person I want to see at this point. A large purse hangs from one hand, and in the crook of her other arm she¡¯s holding a box the size of a toaster. It¡¯s got a hard casing with what looks like a small antenna array on top. I reach in to see what it might be.


    And then nothing. My extended senses go numb. My whole cloud is gone.


    Not broken. just gone. My communication with the bots is disrupted somehow. If this goes on for a minute more, they¡¯ll all time out and lobotomize themselves. I see my siblings looking confused as I turn to look at the big double doors behind us.


    The clacking of her heels announces her entry into the room. Dressed neatly in a black pantsuit, hair immaculately coiffed, she walks in through the double doors at the rear of the room with all the confidence of a rock star strutting onto the stage before a cheering crowd. But no one is cheering, the room is silent except for the clack-clack of each of her steps.


    ¡°I told you that they wouldn¡¯t take the easy way, Liu,¡± she pronounces. ¡°So now we¡¯ll do it my way.¡±


    The icy venom of her voice echoes through the silent room.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Chad demands, standing up from his seat by the aisle and turning towards her. He¡¯s got a level of fury on his face I¡¯ve never seen before from anyone.


    ¡°A suite of broad spectrum jammers,¡± she says flippantly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°They hit every frequency range that your nanobot hardware can speak on. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll only need it for a few minutes until your clouds time out. In the meantime, I want you to be very certain of how serious I am. Please, pay close attention, children.¡±


    She steps towards the center of the room, into the aisle between the last row of chairs.


    ¡°Chad, look at how you¡¯ve grown up!¡± The saccharin she puts in her voice is galling. ¡°So tall, strong, and handsome now. It¡¯s good to see you back in charge of your siblings. You always were the little leader, weren¡¯t you? I was afraid you¡¯d let that upstart lost child usurp you.¡±


    ¡°Dorothy,¡± he says hotly, stepping up from his seat on the front row and into the center aisle to confront her. She sets her purse down on an empty seat on the last row, then reaches into it as he speaks, pulling something out that she puts into each of her ears. Earplugs?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you think you¡¯re going to accomplish,¡± Chad shouts, ¡°but you should know¡ª¡±


    She pulls a large pistol from her purse, aims it at his head, and pulls the trigger. The room explodes with the sound of the shot as the back of Chad¡¯s skull evaporates, splattering the podium behind him with his blood and brains.

 Fri 01/05 16:04:57 ICT

    My ears ring. The world is wrong. Profoundly wrong.


    All the guests, except for me and my siblings, silently file out past Dorothy. Max gives Louise an apologetic look and whispers something to her as he stands, but the rest seem entirely remorseless. Mr. Wu is one of the last to go. He gives Dorothy and the General stern looks and says something quietly in Chinese before leaving. The General shakes his head slowly at Dorothy as he stalks from the room. I wish I could read his vitals.


    Chad is dead.


    His body is there on the floor, blood pouring from his broken skull.


    Dorothy waits patiently while our ears recover.


    Chad is dead. I brought him here.


    ¡°I understand that you¡¯ll be in shock for the next few minutes,¡± she says finally, looking at her watch. ¡°I don¡¯t want you making any rash decisions, so I¡¯ll give you an hour to get clear on your next choice. We require full cooperation from at least a few of you. In one hour, you¡¯ll each have a chance to make a better choice than your last one. If we get the same results,the cute, funny one gets the next bullet.¡±


    She gives Marc a long look and waits a moment to let her words sink in.


    ¡°And please, don¡¯t get any ideas that this can end with anything but your complete submission. I can do this all day before we run low enough on Butler children that we need to start resorting to torture, but we can do that too if you don¡¯t find it in your hearts to cooperate before we get to that point.¡±


    I feel the infinite pinpricks as my cloud finally gives up trying to reestablish its connection to my implant. My lobotomized bots now litter the floor, too small to be a bother until someone decides to sweep them up and reverse engineer them. Which is what will happen. I know my siblings. None of us will go along with any of this. We¡¯ll all die first.


    Like Chad.


    Chad is dead. This is all my fault.


    Dorothy sets the small box down near the door, then takes the chair from the back row with her purse still on it and pulls it next to the box. She sets her purse down and takes a seat, the huge pistol still firmly gripped in her right hand.


    I look around at my siblings, and then at Chad¡¯s corpse. The pool of blood around his body is growing. It¡¯s already touching Phil¡¯s shoes. I stand, which Dorothy notices but doesn¡¯t seem to mind, and step towards the front of the room. Marc gets up, too. He starts pacing and muttering to himself. Evan and Louise seem to be maintaining their composure, though Louise has a look of intense concentration on her face. Andrea has a determined look under the tears streaming down her cheeks. My younger brothers and sisters are all out of action, with responses ranging from uncontrollable weeping to catatonic.


    I pull my seat away from the front row, further from the pool of blood. The image of Father¡¯s body rushes through my mind, with a similar pool of blood seeping from wounds in his face and neck.


    Louise sneezes.


    Chad is dead. Another brother I destroyed.


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    I consider options.


    We could try to rush her. I¡¯m not sure what kind of marksman she is, but she got a clean shot on Chad at a fair distance so she definitely knows what she¡¯s doing. We¡¯d lose a few of us, but we might take her down. It will be hard to coordinate without it being obvious what we¡¯re doing. I glance around the room. A pair of security cameras up near the ceiling in two of the corners point down at us. So even if we got past her and the pair of guards in the hallway behind her, we¡¯d have to deal with the other dozen armed guards around the estate, and some of them have automatic weapons. None of us knows anything about shooting, so even if we can take Dorothy¡¯s gun and the guns from the guards before they fire all their bullets at us, we¡¯d all end up shot anyway.


    No good.


    We could pretend to comply, then strike back when we have bots again. I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯d be dumb enough to let any of us have them without some kind of hostage situation to ensure good behavior, so that¡¯s a problem. And then they¡¯d definitely make sure they had Dorothy¡¯s jammer box handy, which would put us right back where we are now again.


    No good.


    I feel an itching on my arm, just above the wrist, like a bug. Wary of mosquitos, I slap at it, but it persists. I glance down as the itching turns painful. A curving red line begins to etch itself into my skin. A tiny letter ¡°S¡± becomes clear. ¡°Y¡± starts forming next. I turn and see Louise staring at me, her eyes begging me to understand.


    SYNC MEDICAL


    I feel the weird synesthesia of the medical bots on my arm, they¡¯re mine now.


    To Louise: You genius!


    From Louise: Good! I thought I was going to have to write the whole thing out. You were faster than Evan or Andrea.


    To Louise: How did you manage this?


    From Louise: Bots in the bloodstream. That project Evan and I have been playing with.


    To Louise: How were they not jammed?


    From Louise: The medical bots and the implant run on a different frequency than the worker bots. That¡¯s why your console still works. Otherwise your implant would have stopped talking to the appliance. Dorothy doesn¡¯t know shit about the medical side of things.


    To Louise: You are amazing.


    From Louise: Not amazing enough. The reach on these isn¡¯t far, a couple of meters maybe, same as the range you need to keep your appliance from you. I¡¯m stretching just to talk to you at this distance. We can maybe take out Dorothy, but we¡¯d need to get close enough to her that the guards across the hall would definitely notice something is up. They might shoot us before we get to her, and they¡¯d for sure shoot us afterwards.


    Guards across the hall? I hadn¡¯t even seen those. I¡¯m so blind without my extra eyes. I glance past Dorothy and sure enough, a pair of guards with assault rifles have posted themselves in the hallway behind her.


    To Louise: Can the medbots build worker bots?


    From Louise: One sec, Evan just got synced.


    To All: So can they build worker bots? Or more medbots?


    From Evan: Yes on both. But building medical bots takes forever. The work is way more detailed. You wouldn¡¯t have enough to do anything useful before Marc¡¯s hour is up. Plus, she¡¯s still got the jammer. I think it¡¯s off now, but she could turn it on again whenever she wants. And the worker bots don¡¯t have the hardware to talk on this frequency.


    No good again. Given time, we could maybe monkey with the bot replication code to tweak them to use the medical bot comms, but there¡¯s no way we¡¯d get that done in a day, much less an hour.


    To All: We¡¯re not letting her have Marc. One dead sibling is already one too many. How quickly could they make worker bots?


    From Louise: About regular speed, a little slower than worker bots can, but with all the material from the bot corpses handy, it should go pretty quickly.


    To All: Build as many workers as you can, but leave them dormant.


    From Evan: OK, you have a plan you want to share?


    I can only wish I did.

 Fri 01/05 16:28:04 ICT

    A commotion bursts out from down the hall. Lin''s voice is shouting in English and Chinese. I don''t know what the Chinese part is, but the English is clear.


    "Noah! I just heard. I didn''t know! I swear I didn''t know!  Noah!"


    She reaches the doors with Max right behind her. She gasps as she sees my brother¡¯s body on the floor. Then she sees me across the room.


    "Noah! Max just told me what happened!¡± Her voice turns pleading. ¡°I didn''t know, you have to believe me!"


    I hope it¡¯s not just stupid puppy love, but I do believe her. She wouldn¡¯t have helped set us up for this if she¡¯d had any idea what it really was. Dorothy rises and points her pistol at her.


    "Step away from the door," she demands coldly.


    Lin charges into the room anyway, ignoring the threat.


    "You¡¯re not going to shoot me. You need my father too much. This thing, Max?" She asks, giving the jammer on the ground near Dorothy a nudge with her foot.


    ¡°Ja! Yes! That is the jammer!¡±


    Whatever training Yang Song has been doing with her has been doing wonders for her legs. She delivers the box a powerful kick worthy of any soccer player, sending it flying into the wall where the impact cracks open the case. She rushes toward it and jumps, landing on the box with both feet and flattening it.


    ¡°You¡¯re much too late for that to do any good,¡± Dorothy declares, her face an angry smirk. She turns to the guards behind her. ¡°Go get Liu and tell him to restrain his brat,¡± she snaps. He doesn¡¯t move, so she snarls something at him in Chinese. That gets him moving fast. As he hurries off, she turns from Lin to Max and points the pistol at his leg. ¡°I may not shoot you, Ms. Liu, but I would have no qualms with putting a bullet in your friend¡¯s kneecap. Get out, and get out now.¡±


    I pray to Mom that Lin¡¯s kick and stomp were enough to break the jammer. I sync with the nearest batch of bots that we just constructed. The extra skin I feel from them has never been so comforting. I start them replicating as fast as they can, feasting on the corpses of the fallen bots all around. I see Evan, Louise, and Andrea doing the same.


    Lin slowly backs out of the room, joining Max at the doorway.


    ¡°This is wrong,¡± she declares defiantly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Dorothy answers. She raises her voice and yells something at the other guard in Chinese. He runs off too.


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    ¡°They¡¯re getting another jammer, Noah,¡± Lin shouts into the room.


    ¡°Louise, I didn¡¯t know what they were going to do,¡± Max calls out. ¡°I was hired to consult with you, to help to ensure you could install the implant successfully outside of your own family. They did not tell me any of this would be coerced.¡±


    I don¡¯t have enough bots to spare to check his vitals, but he seems as sincere as Lin. Besides, why would either of them be here helping us if they had been in on it? I¡¯ll spare them both from the upcoming retribution.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got three seconds to be out of my sight,¡± Dorothy demands, putting her other hand on the gun¡¯s grip. Her sights are lined up with Max¡¯s knee.


    I see Andrea look up and see she¡¯s got her eyes fixed on the room¡¯s security camera. Her fingers begin dancing and I see a thin film of bots cover the lens.  If she¡¯s doing what I think she¡¯s doing, and she pulls it off, her brain is about to do the most elaborate feat of math, programming, and art I¡¯ve ever heard of.


    To All: You mind if I take Dorothy?


    ¡°One.¡±


    From Evan: All yours.


    ¡°Two.¡±


    From Louise: Do it.


    She doesn¡¯t get to three. I send out a thin, sweeping blade of bots, neatly severing Dorothy¡¯s head from her body. With her back to us as she looked toward the doorway, she never saw it coming. Her body collapses, and her head rolls backwards towards me. I hear angry yelling from down the hallway in Chinese.


    ¡°Stall them if you can,¡± I call out to Lin and Max. They both look horrified, but they nod and dash down the hallway.


    Louise, and Evan have grim smiles forming on their faces. Andrea¡¯s eyes dart frantically between the two cameras in the corners of the room as her fingers dance to work their magic. Marc is still pacing and muttering, I don¡¯t think he registered any of what just happened.. The whole Geologist cohort stares at the new corpse, stunned.


    An uproar of many voices speaking several languages comes from down the hall. I push my tiny new army to grow as quickly as possible. The room grows colder as the bots draw in all the power they can from the ambient heat.


    To Louise, Evan, Andrea: We need to get that other jammer before someone turns it on. Release everything you have to me.


    They give me understanding nods as I sync with all the bots in the room. I reach out, running a thin mesh network down the hall, past the small crowd shouting at each other, towards where I¡¯d felt the blind spot earlier. That must be where Dorothy was. Sure enough, the guard is on his way back from there, carrying the jammer, thankfully still powered down. I reach inside it and shred some wiring. That should be enough, but I start building bots inside it just in case, turning as much of its innards into extensions of myself as I can before the guard reaches the General along with the guards, staff, and attendees clustered around him in the hallway.


    I pull the bots back. Andrea points to herself and glances at me meaningfully. I release almost all of the bots, saving a small group for myself, just enough to keep growing. I don¡¯t know what she has planned, but I trust her. Andrea syncs up with the freed bots, leaving just enough for Evan and Louise to kickstart their clouds¡¯ growth again. Her fingers dance wildly, and the air near the doorframe shimmers as blobs of color start to emerge from nothing. The voices from the hallway are growing closer, but I don¡¯t want to spare any bots from replication to see what¡¯s going on. I barely have enough now to stop a single bullet if things get bad.

 Fri 01/05 16:36:24 ICT

    Andrea¡¯s hands dance even faster as the footsteps get near to the door. Drops of sweat stream from her forehead despite the chill in the room. The motions are swift and graceful, like a master pianist working the keys. Evan, Louise and I hold our breath, looking to her for our salvation.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Dorothy¡¯s voice demands from near the doorway, the icy intonations perfect. ¡°Get out of here, I have work to do. You¡¯re interfering!¡±


    I keep my jaw from dropping, but just barely. My sister is even more talented than I thought. She takes a couple of steps to sit on one of the chairs, her hand motions now concealed from anyone looking at her from the rear of the room.


    Dorothy¡¯s body on the floor flickers and disappears. The blood on the floor is replaced by clean tiles. The blobs of color in the air resolve into a blonde figure seated in Dorothy¡¯s chair, facing into the room. The clothes are an exact match for the body that just disappeared, the hair perfectly replicates Dorothy¡¯s. By the time General Liu reaches the doorframe, the illusion is complete from behind, though from our side the face is blank like an old department store mannequin.


    ¡°What is going on here?¡± the General demands in English.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting results, that¡¯s what is going on,¡± that eerily perfect copy of Dorothy¡¯s voice says. ¡°Do you want them to cooperate or not? Keep your child away from here and let me work!¡±


    The figure¡¯s arm raises and her hand waves him away dismissively. I think I¡¯m keeping my expressions from giving us away. Evan and Louise are doing the same, their faces carefully controlled. My younger siblings are all looking terribly confused, but no one looks like they¡¯re about to say anything. Marc hasn¡¯t stopped his manic pacing and doesn¡¯t seem to be aware of anything going on. That¡¯s probably for the best. We don¡¯t want him to blow this.


    Please, Mom. Please don¡¯t let him walk through that doorway.


    Lin and Max have caught back up to the group in the wide hallway and gape at the false Dorothy¡¯s back for a moment, shocked. Lin recovers first. She catches her father¡¯s eye and says something in Chinese in a quiet, deferential way and walks back down the hallway with Max behind her. Max finally seems to catch on.


    ¡°Come, come! Let¡¯s all let Ms. James work,¡± Max says loudly. ¡°We¡¯ll get what we need soon enough. She knows this family better than any of us.¡±


    Lin says something in Chinese. Translating, I think, for anyone in the crowd that doesn¡¯t speak English. The footsteps stop moving our way. The General takes one more look at the back of the fake Dorothy¡¯s head. The false fingers make one more contemptuous wave. He turns, following the receding crowd. The guard with the jammer moves towards the doorway, proffering the box.


    ¡°Just put that on the floor there,¡± Dorothy¡¯s voice says, as if she had eyes in the back of her head.


    The guard puts the box, now mostly empty inside, on the ground and returns to his post across the wide hallway. The other guard returns as well, posting up and looking into the room.


    I continue rebuilding my cloud. We¡¯re almost out of the loose bots on the floor here, and it¡¯s too cold now to effectively draw heat as power. So I reach out, spreading to other rooms, picking up the old bots and chewing through various metal objects. I grab whatever is handy, growing as fast as I can. I get tendrils outside and frantically drink sunshine, spreading the power back to the bots inside.


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    The Geologists still seem confused, but I think they¡¯re starting to come to grips with everything that¡¯s going on. Marc mutters more incomprehensible whispers as he walks back and forth. I check the hallway, the group has turned a corner.


    To All: Any objections to taking out the guards?


    Andrea shakes her head.


    From Evan: I don¡¯t see any other good options.


    From Louise: Let me. I want to keep casualties to a minimum. These guys are just hired help.


    I nod.


    The guards both get a funny look on their faces and about ten seconds later they both begin slumping over. I catch them and their dropped guns before they hit the ground and bring them into the room, completely unconscious at this point. I position them on their backs on the floor and reform the plastic from one of the chairs into bindings, fusing their wrists and ankles to the floor. That should hold anyone. I form gags from the chair¡¯s padding. The guns that had fallen are now part of my cloud.


    I check to make sure no one else is in earshot. We¡¯re clear. ¡°Is everyone all right?¡± I say. ¡°As all right as we can be, anyway?¡±


    The Geologists all nod. Marc still paces and mutters.


    ¡°Marc. Marc!¡± He looks my way.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be OK,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯re getting out of this. She¡¯s gone.¡±


    Louise stands and walks over to him, putting an arm around him and taking his hand. He calms enough to stop his stream of unintelligible mumbling.


    Andrea lets her illusions at the back of the room fade and lets out a loud sigh of relief. The mock Dorothy disappears, the headless body, the head, and the blood pool near the doorframe reappear. She¡¯s still doing her magic with the security cameras, but her fingers are at least moving at human speeds now. I don¡¯t know how much longer she can sustain the effort. We need to act fast if we want to maintain any element of surprise.


    ¡°You all remember how to resync with unlinked bots?¡± I ask my younger siblings.


    A chorus of quiet affirmatives comes from the Geologists.


    ¡°Good,¡± I say, releasing a small pile of bots in front of each of them. ¡°Everyone grow these into as big of a cloud as you can.¡±


    I turn to Louise and Evan.


    ¡°Can anyone feel Valerie, Keeya, or Lucie? Any idea where any of them are?¡± I ask. I haven¡¯t felt them anywhere, which I¡¯m pretty sure means they were either taken from the estate this morning before I got up, or they¡¯re in the shielded room. I tend to have the widest awareness, but it¡¯s worth asking since even I can miss things.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t seen them all day,¡± Evan says quietly. I don¡¯t need to look at his panic-stricken face to know how much he blames himself for not checking on Valerie this morning.


    ¡°Me neither,¡± says Louise.


    None of the others have either.


    ¡°OK, finding them is our first priority. Second priority is to permanently remove everyone in the conference. None of their batshit weaponized nano-atrocities get to see the light of day. Agreed?¡±


    ¡°Agreed, but participants only,¡± Louise says. ¡°Staff gets a pass. And Max. I believe him, and he just proved he¡¯s on our side.¡±


    ¡°Lin too,¡± I say. ¡°Since she also just saved our asses.¡±


    Evan agrees. Marc and Andrea both nod.


    ¡°Well, then,¡± I tell my siblings. ¡°Since we¡¯re about to kill a Chinese general on Chinese soil, along with a whole slate of Chinese and international VIPs, our third priority is to figure out how we get out of here without landing on every international most wanted list. I¡¯m open to any ideas.¡±

 Fri 01/05 16:51:15 ICT

    With a little breathing room and a lot of the available metal around the estate, I quickly get my cloud near capacity. An old familiar headache starts to rise in the back of my brain, but I shove it aside. I don¡¯t have time to care about pain. Now that I feel like my real self again, I close my eyes and get to work. I feel out the whole surrounding area, both inside the palatial estate and in the kilometers around it. The conference attendees are gathered in another room like this one on the other side of the building. The household staff and the other guards are in small clusters in the kitchen and a few other rooms. Guards are scattered around in pairs, all of them equipped with assault rifles. I can¡¯t feel Lin, her father, or Yang Song anywhere. They¡¯re probably in whatever blind spot has hidden our friends from me.


    I shift my focus outside, letting my human self fade into a small corner of my consciousness. There¡¯s a helicopter on the pad. The blades are just starting to spin and Mr. Wu is walking toward it with a couple of guards. Having them leave isn¡¯t an option. I dig into the chopper¡¯s engine and rip apart everything softer than solid steel. It¡¯s enough. I dissolve the firing pins of the guards¡¯ guns, which they don¡¯t seem to notice as they start fussing around with the broken chopper. The pilot and the old man are unarmed. I¡¯ll deal with them all later.


    None of our people are out on the grounds, so they must all be somewhere with electromagnetic shielding.


    I start on what¡¯s easy indoors. Killing the staff would be easier, but Louise said not to, so I slap bot gags on all of them and also the guards inside the house. I dissolve all the guns the guards have and truss them all up with invisible shackles. I drag them as quickly as I can into our conference room, their clothing sliding easily enough over the smooth tiles of the palatial estate.


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    ¡°Get them all bound up, please,¡± I ask my sibs. Several of them are cursing loudly in languages I don¡¯t understand. ¡°Louise, can you keep them quiet?¡±


    I free up my bots as Louise does some kind of pinch on each of their carotid arteries that renders each of them unconscious. She and the others start getting them stuck to the floor of the conference room like the other guards.


    I turn my attention to the other conference room, the one where all the other conference attendees have gathered. Max is standing near the back, away from the others. Louise didn¡¯t want him killed either. I give him a nudge in the direction of the doorway. He glances around, confused. I nudge him again, more forcefully this time. He takes the hint and quietly slips out through the door. Once it closes behind him, I fuse the hinges and handles. No one is getting out alive. I push more and more of my cloud through the crack under the door. None of them seem to notice the thin gray fog accumulating near the walls.


    I take a deep breath and combine the efforts of the organic and silicon parts of my brain in a thousand calculations before unleashing holy hell on everyone left in the room. A storm of bullet-sized nanoballs pierce through each of their skulls, shredding each of their brains from a dozen angles. Not a single one of them gets a scream out, they¡¯re gone so fast. Will you all haunt me? Will Xin Tan, Tanaka Isamu, Harold Skinner, Xavier Black, Heinrich Bekker, Yasmin Darvish, and all the others torment me like Father and Jeff have for the last couple of years? Like Chad certainly will?


    I don¡¯t know. All I feel now is grim satisfaction and a throbbing at the base of my skull. Is this how Father felt when he transformed the Fist of Peace from a terrorist militia to a puddle of organic paste? At least I was humane enough to make it fast, instead of eating them from the outside in like he did. I can be like Evan on this one, feeling no guilt because all I did was destroy some monsters.


    Now for the shielded room.

 Fri 01/05 16:56:03 ICT

    I turn my attention back to the room where the small, fleshy part of me still stands. My siblings, at least the ones that have fully shaken themselves out of shock, have begun arguing with each other about what to do now.


    ¡°It¡¯s rescue time,¡± I announce loudly, bringing clarity to the chaos. ¡°Evan, Louise, you¡¯re with me. Everyone else, keep working on a way to keep us from being international terrorists. Andrea, if you can spare any attention from your magic with the cameras, there are some people outside with a broken helicopter. I¡¯ve broken their guns, but keep an eye on them and make sure they don¡¯t cause any trouble or start hiking out of here. And can someone please do something about Chad? A coffin or something?¡±


    Max arrives at the entrance to the room just as we¡¯re heading out.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming too,¡± he says firmly. He must have heard me from down the hall.


    I¡¯d rather he stay out of trouble, but it¡¯s his funeral. I stoop down to grab Dorothy¡¯s gun and hand it to him. I doubt it will do him much good, and from the way he¡¯s looking at it, he doesn¡¯t have any more idea how to use it than we do. But he¡¯s a smart guy, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll figure it out. At least this way he¡¯s not completely defenseless.


    Evan and Louise take positions on either side of me as we march down the hallway. Max trails a few paces behind us. Back in the conference room, I feel my other siblings get to work. My index¡¯s map leads through a labyrinth of vacant hallways and up some stairs to a reinforced door on the second level that looks like it belongs more in a high security military complex than a palatial rural estate.


    ¡°You two noticed the shielding already, right?¡± I don¡¯t bother to whisper. A security camera is pointing right at us, and whoever is in there certainly already knows we¡¯re here.


    ¡°The blank zone inside, yeah,¡± Even replies.


    I dissolve the hinges and locks on the massive door and give it a shove, letting the boom of its fall officially announce our presence.


    Inside the large room beyond the door, a cage extends from floor to ceiling, the bars enclosing it from above as well. The thin vertical bars are several centimeters apart, with cross bars every eighty centimeters. I probe with my bots. This isn¡¯t an ordinary faraday cage. It¡¯s got some kind of active disruption going on, maybe a current producing a strong magnetic field around the bars or something.


    A margin of a little over two meters separates the cage from the walls of the room. Inside the cage, General Liu and Yang Song sit with guns in their hands across from Valerie, Lucie, and Keeya who are bound to their chairs with zip ties. Lucie and Keeya are a mess, makeup streaking down their faces, dried mucus crusting from their noses to their chins. They¡¯ve clearly been crying their eyes out and haven¡¯t been able to do a thing to clean up. I guess they know about Chad.


    Lin stands near the far end of the cage, a swelling redness surrounding one eye. That¡¯s new since I saw her last. Someone is going to pay for that one.


    The only other furnishing inside the cage is a row of monitors near the side of the cage opposite the General. Thick wires run from a port in the floor of the cage up to them. I can see security footage showing the two conference rooms, one set full of the carnage I left downstairs, the other set still showing us and the rest of our siblings sitting quietly under Dorothy¡¯s watchful eye. The image of Dorothy shifts in her chair and waves the gun around, pointing it at Marc before lowering it. Andrea¡¯s illusions are even more perfect through the camera.


    To Evan, Louise: Can we just rush him? We can¡¯t get through the cage with bots directly, but it looks like we can pick up the security door and ram it through those bars.


    From Evan: Too risky. I know you¡¯re fast, but it doesn¡¯t take long to pull a trigger. Let¡¯s try to negotiate. If he wanted the hostages dead, they¡¯d be dead already.


    ¡°That¡¯s close enough,¡± General Liu says as we step over the fallen door and into the space between the cage and the walls.


    ¡°Valerie, are you all right?¡± Evan calls. His voice, though calm, has a dangerous edge to it, a cold fury that I¡¯ve rarely heard from him.


    ¡°A few bruises, nothing serious,¡± Valerie says. Even under this pressure, she¡¯s keeping cool. She really might be as great as Evan thinks she is.


    ¡°Keeya?¡± Louise asks. ¡°Lucie?¡±


    ¡°They are all fine, Evan,¡± General Liu says. ¡°And they will continue to be fine as long as we can reach an understanding.¡±


    ¡°The last time you wanted to reach an understanding with us,¡± Louise says hotly, ¡°our brother got shot in the head. I don¡¯t think I want to reach any more understandings with you.¡±


    Keeya and Lucie squeeze out a few more tears each. Yeah, they knew already. They must have seen everything up until Andrea fooled the cameras.


    ¡°He will win, who knows when to fight and when not to fight,¡± the General replies. ¡°I am wise enough to know when I am in a fight I can no longer win. But for my and my daughter¡¯s sake, I must do what I can to stay alive. Surely you can understand that.¡±


    ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m not looking for any understanding with you,¡± Louise says. ¡°Let our people go.¡±


    While they talk, I look frantically for any way to get my bots into the cage without alerting the General. Any weakness in the field. I¡¯m not finding any.


    ¡°And be subject to your whims with no leverage?¡± he asks rhetorically. ¡°I think not. Unlike my benefactor or colleagues, I had tremendous confidence in your abilities and resourcefulness. I suspected that Ms. James would fail in her duties. I arrived here in time to see what you do to those who oppose you.¡± He indicates the monitors with his off hand. I wonder what my hellstorm of destruction looked like from the outside. ¡°My daughter and I will not meet that same fate.¡±


    I penetrate the outer walls in a few places until I find the power conduits that lead to the cage. No good, they¡¯re shielded in the same way. My bots disconnect as they approach too close. Someone who had a lot of knowledge about our tech helped design this. Damn that Dorothy. I quietly bore into the floor, sending a contingent of bots into the subfloor and feeling for weaknesses on the underside of the cage. My headache intensifies as I focus on the senses of so many of my little selves, but I don¡¯t care. If I fail, my people will go through much worse.


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    ¡°While I respect your strength,¡± General Liu continues, ¡°and I understand that you have the upper hand, it is clear to me that just letting your friends go will not provide a sufficient guarantee of our safety. I propose that you all return to your boats, float downstream, and take a stay in a nice hotel. My treat. Once I confirm you are all there, these fine young women will be escorted down to join you. They live, we live.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we don¡¯t have a lot of trust in you just now,¡± Evan says, stepping into the space between the wall and the cage. ¡°Seeing how you betrayed us and killed our brother and tried to steal our tech and all.¡±


    The bars run under the cage as well, with wires on one end of each bar. That must be where it feeds in the current that powers the disruption field, but of course those are shielded too. Pain flares as I check each one methodically all at once. There¡¯s got to be a flaw or two in here somewhere. No one builds something this complex perfectly.


    ¡°Your brother¡¯s death was most unfortunate. I assure you, it was not what I had in mind. Ms. James came to us with a most positive recommendation from our benefactor. I did not have the option to refuse her services.¡±


    ¡°Who are you working for, anyway?¡± I ask, stalling for time. ¡°What¡¯s more important to you than your country and your honor?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t discuss that,¡± he says, shaking his head. ¡°It would be worth much more than my life.¡±


    Worth a try. I would have liked to know but I don¡¯t care enough to push it. Mr. Wu is still outside by the broken helicopter, he probably has more answers anyway. I can¡¯t afford to pick at whatever stupid illuminati conspiracy rabbit hole this is with my friends¡¯ lives on the line.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I say. ¡°Then how about you put your guns down while we talk.¡±


    Max steps sideways in the space between the cage and the wall on the side where the General is seated. If he notices, he doesn¡¯t seem to care. However, when Louise inches closer to the cage door, she gets a threatening look as the General extends his gun that much closer to Valerie¡¯s face.


    The video feeds. They¡¯re going through that field, and they need to do it without massive field effects on the wires or the picture would be garbage. If I can slip my bots inside whatever protects that thick cable, I can get them inside the cage. I find where the video wire comes out from the floor and into the subfloor, then penetrate its shielding a couple of meters away from the cage. It¡¯s tightly packed with several layers of conductive polymer around the actual wires, and once my bots get inside it, the only way I can keep a connection to them is with a tight daisy chain relaying my mesh network inside the cable. I have to manually control each one to maneuver in a space that constrained. I start flowing bots along the wire, but it¡¯s painfully slow going and makes my mind feel like it''s on fire.


    To Evan, Louise: There¡¯s a weak spot in the cage. Keep him talking. I need time to get my bots in there.


    They nod almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement.


    ¡°We know how quickly you can act, but you have not seen how quickly we can,¡± General Liu says to Louise. ¡°I believe that uncertainty is an important part of our negotiation. Please step back away from the door.¡±


    Louise steps back and Max takes another step sideways, further into the space between the wall and the cage. Again, the General only seems to care about the three of us. I guess he doesn¡¯t consider Max a threat.


    ¡°How about this,¡± I suggest as I slide more bots through the protected cable. I¡¯ve got enough in the cage now to start doing some damage, but not nearly enough to ensure that I can take both the General and the bodyguard out without one of them shooting. ¡°You leave Yang Song here to ensure our good behavior, while you put your tail between your legs and run like the coward you are.¡±


    To Evan, Louise: Just need to keep him talking a minute more. Less maybe.


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t have such confidence in your ability to deal swift death, I would agree,¡± the General says. ¡°But you¡¯ve shown such capability that I will not open that door before your departure.¡±


    Max is behind the General now. I see him start to move his hand toward his waistband. Shit. Is he going to try to shoot one of them from behind? Even if there weren¡¯t two of them there, I don¡¯t trust him to make a clean enough shot on either of them that they couldn¡¯t still kill a hostage. I catch his eye and shake my head as subtly as I can. He nods and continues slowly working his way around the cage.


    ¡°So it¡¯s your way or the highway? You think we¡¯ll just leave?¡± Evan says.


    A few hundred more bots make it through. Would they notice the subtle vibrations if I started eating away at their firing pins? Maybe. Too risky still.


    ¡°Only if you care about the well-being of these women,¡± the General replies. His calm veneer is fraying. The hand not holding the gun is starting to shake. ¡°If you¡¯d like to end this standoff by seeing how quickly Yang Song and I can pull triggers, you are free to decline my generous offer.¡±


    I force more bots through as quickly as I can. I have enough now for a single point-shield. I want to protect all three of them, but the way he¡¯s breaking down, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll have time. His gun is trained on Valerie, hers alternates between Chad¡¯s girlfriends. If I have to choose, it¡¯s Valerie. Sorry, Keeya and Lucie.


    ¡°Father, please,¡± Lin begs. ¡°Let them go. They are good. They would honor their word.¡±


    He snaps back at her in Chinese in a way that makes her flinch and cower. I know now where that swelling around her eye is from. From her reaction, it¡¯s not the first time either.


    Max¡¯s slow walk has him nearly behind Lin now. He quietly and slowly draws Dorothy¡¯s pistol. With Lin¡¯s body between him and the other two in the cage, they wouldn¡¯t be able to see it.


    ¡°I am out of patience,¡± the General declares. ¡°Leave now, or they die.¡±


    I force more bots through the narrow shielded wire faster than I thought I could, each one occupying more of my brain¡¯s attention than I can spare. I can almost form a second shield. I¡¯m so close.


    ¡°Please, father!¡± Lin cries, tears running down her cheeks. ¡°They saved my life. You cannot do this to them.¡±


    Another snarling barrage of Chinese goes her way. I form the shields floating invisibly along the lines between each gun and its target. They won¡¯t stop the bullets, but they¡¯ll deflect them off course enough that hopefully they¡¯ll only be grazed. The slight dilation in the General¡¯s eyes tells me he¡¯s about to act.


    To Louise, Evan: Break down the cage, now! We need to move!


    Evan reaches down with hands and bots and lifts the fallen security door. He flings it downward into the cage with enough force to tear through the bars like they were made of tissue paper.


    While he¡¯s doing that, a whole bunch of things happen almost at once. I think I have the order right here:


    Two deafening cracks fill the air as two shots fire.


    I feel the sting of bots crumbling as one of my shields deflects one bullet.


    The bullet aimed at Valerie zips through the bars just over her shoulder and embeds into the wall. The shot was already off, my shield couldn¡¯t have deflected it that far.


    The barrel of the General¡¯s gun smokes as he tumbles forward, falling to the floor.


    Yang Song drops her unfired gun and raises her hands in surrender.


    Max covers his face with his empty hands.


    Dorothy¡¯s smoking gun falls from Lin¡¯s hand as she recoils in horror.

 Fri 01/05 17:09:56 ICT

    Lin stares at her hands as Evan and Louise rush into the cage. The zip ties binding Keeya, Lucie, and Valerie evaporate. Evan runs to Valerie and kneels next to her, checking the bruises and scrapes on her face. Louise helps Lucie and Keeya up as I squeeze padt them all to get to Lin as fast as I can. On my way, I slag all the guns on the floor, just to be safe.


    Lin slumps down to the ground, her back to the cage bars. I squat down in front of her.


    ¡°Lin,¡± I say.


    She just stares at her hands.


    ¡°Lin!¡±


    She slowly lifts her gaze to meet mine. Her eyes are emptying out. I know that emptiness all too well. Shock might brace her for a bit, but that numbness will turn to guilt and despair all too soon. What do I wish someone had told me after I killed my father? The memory of it seems fuzzy and distant, but I try my best to come up with words that could help her heal later.


    ¡°Thank you, Lin,¡± I tell her. ¡°You were so brave. You just did a very good thing.¡±


    She shakes her head and lowers her eyes.


    ¡°Look here, right here, in my eyes,¡± I insist.


    She lifts her head until our gazes meet again.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk more later, but know this now: you did the right thing. You are good. Thank you.¡±


    I look into her beautiful, dark eyes framed by darkening bruises for what seems like an eternity. Finally she nods.


    Behind me, my many eyes see Yang Song step over the spreading puddle of the General¡¯s blood. She¡¯s looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to turn to face her. Her vitals show an intense fear that her face hides perfectly. She must be wondering if we¡¯re going to kill her now, too. What to do about her? She was clearly complicit in this whole thing, but when push came to shove, she didn¡¯t go along with the General¡¯s plan. She dropped her gun.


    ¡°Lin, these bruises.¡± I raise a hand and gently touch her face. ¡°Did Yang Song give you any of these? Or any others? Ever?¡±


    Lin looks confused for a second, then shakes her head no. ¡°Just him,¡± she says, her eyes flicking to her father¡¯s body.


    I turn around. Yang Song meets my gaze with a perplexed expression. ¡°What will you do now?¡± she demands.


    ¡°You made a good choice just now,¡± I tell her. ¡°Your life is yours.¡±


    ¡°You are wrong,¡± she says, her eyes turning to Lin. ¡°My life is hers, as it has been since the day her mother died. I did not betray her father for you. I did it for her.¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Louise urges, ¡°we can sort out who owns whose life later. Right now, we¡¯ve got to figure out how to not have this turn into an international incident.¡±


    She starts herding everyone out of the cage. Max joins us as we leave the room, pulling a pair of handkerchiefs from his breast pocket and offering them to Keeya and Lucie. They take them gratefully and start cleaning themselves up as we walk.


    ¡°One second,¡± I say. ¡°Yang Song, do the surveillance videos go anywhere but here? Do they stream out?¡±


    ¡°No. The security system is closed,¡± Yang Song says.


    I wonder for a moment if I can trust her, but her vitals don¡¯t indicate any deception. Plus, it¡¯s not like she has any reason to lie to us at this point.


    ¡°Good,¡± I reply as I flood my cloud through floors and walls to follow the video cable to its source. I find a utility room in the basement with a rack of servers. I consume everything in less than a minute. The less evidence we leave, the better.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Can we go now?¡± Louise asks impatiently.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    We all rush down the stairs. Yang Song takes Lin by the hand as we swiftly walk back to the conference room. Lin seems to appreciate it. She¡¯s much more than a translator and bodyguard. If I didn¡¯t know better and just saw the two of them, I would have guessed that Lin was her daughter from the way she treats her. Yang Song could be an ally that we desperately need right now to keep what happened here contained. As we take the twisting hallways back to the others, I pump her for information.


    ¡°Yang Song, who knows that we are here? And when we arrived?¡±


    ¡°The conference was very sensitive,¡± she replies without hesitation. ¡°We did not publish a schedule, or inform anyone outside of the guest list of the details. Of all the people who saw you here, only Mr. Wu left with that information.¡±


    ¡°You mean the same Mr. Wu who was leaving earlier by helicopter? The one who owns the place and planned this whole thing?¡±


    She gives me a significant look. ¡°Yes. General Liu has worked with him for several years. He represents powerful people. Very powerful.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°He never left. I stopped his helicopter.¡±


    She smiles a fierce smile. ¡°Then I would recommend that you dispose of him. I never liked him or what he stood for. He caused a great man to betray his country, and me along with him. Whatever you did to those people in the conference room, he deserves a thousand times worse. With him removed, his backers would have no clear knowledge of what occurred here.¡±


    Again, nothing in her vitals shows any signs of deception. I take her at her word and extend my cloud outside. The pilot and guards are still trying to get the helicopter started while Mr. Wu shouts at them.


    ¡°Do you know who¡¯s behind him?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s not part of the Chinese government, I gather.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know who they are, but I know they have power in many countries, including yours. It was all very secret. They act with impunity and the General was too afraid to defy them. He was the bravest man I ever knew.¡±


    I need to go see what I can get out of Mr. Wu. I hate to leave Lin right now, but I check her vitals and see that she¡¯s in full shock mode. She probably doesn¡¯t register anything going on around her at this point, and Yang Song can do a better job of taking care of her than I can at this point.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, veering off toward the exit leading to the helipad. ¡°I¡¯m going to go get some answers. Go with Evan and Louise and help them if you can. And take care of Lin, please.¡±


    She shoots me that perplexed look again. Of course. As far as she knows, Lin and I only know each other from one conversation and a dozen letters.


    ¡°I always will,¡± she solemnly vows.


    I get to the outer doors and feel Andrea¡¯s bots outside formed into several eyes.


    To Andrea: The cameras aren¡¯t an issue anymore, you can stop your illusions with them. Also, you might want to look away from the helicopter pad. This could get ugly.


    I feel her eyes dissolve and retract as I step outside. Mr. Wu doesn¡¯t notice me, absorbed as he is in berating the pilot and guards who are still trying to start the chopper. I make it most of the way to the helicopter before one of the guards spots me. He shouts something I can¡¯t understand before I bind and gag him and the other two people who I¡¯m not going to kill today because Louise told me not to. I start floating them back toward the house.


    Mr. Wu turns to face me, his expression calm. Even his vitals are steady. This guy must have nerves of steel.


    ¡°Mr. Kimball,¡± Mr. Wu says loudly. ¡°The fact that you are here now tells me many things. You are a very resourceful young man. We could use people like you. I can offer you a position of leadership within our organization. The rewards for you would be beyond your dreams.¡±


    I step closer as the guards and pilot float through the doors and I feel one of my siblings take them off my hands. I keep walking until I don¡¯t need to raise my voice to be heard.


    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± I finally tell him. ¡°Tell me more about this organization of yours.¡± I don¡¯t add what I¡¯m thinking: so I can hunt them all down and kill every last one of them.


    ¡°Wealth far beyond your father¡¯s paltry few billions,¡± he promises. ¡°Fame. Prestige. Beautiful women, as many as you like, willing to do whatever you can imagine. Or men, if that¡¯s your preference.¡±


    ¡°Money isn¡¯t a huge issue for me personally, and I¡¯ve got more press coverage than I ever wanted. And I¡¯m very happy with my girlfriend just now.¡± I check him carefully for weapons again, but still find nothing. Why is he so calm? ¡°Why don¡¯t you just tell me who I would be joining, and what they want. Besides world domination, of course. That part was already pretty clear.¡±


    ¡°All of that will come in time,¡± he responds serenely. ¡°All I ask now is that you name your price. Whatever it is, we can pay it. Speak your greatest wish, and we will see it done.¡±


    ¡°I recently lost a brother,¡± I tell him. ¡°Do you have any of those handy? He¡¯d have to be about my height, blond hair, blue eyes, and answer to Chad Butler. That¡¯s my wish, can you make that happen?¡±


    Mr. Wu¡¯s expression changes to one of resignation. ¡°As I expected,¡± he says.


    His jaw stiffens.


    And then his head explodes.

 Fri 01/05 17:31:09 ICT

    I look around for whatever just killed Mr. Wu, but I can¡¯t feel anyone but me near here. I notice that the blood is splattered in a nearly perfect circle around his fallen body. It wasn¡¯t a sniper taking him out then. I breathe a sigh of relief and use my bots to scrub the blood and bits of bones and brains off of my face, hair and clothes. I¡¯m just glad my mouth was closed when Mr. Wu popped.


    I examine the body and the ring of blood around him. This wasn¡¯t something he was carrying, or the splatter wouldn¡¯t be so symmetrical. Whoever was backing this guy, they went a big step beyond the old poison tooth suicide pills. Some kind of implant, maybe. His body below the neck is still intact, so the explosive load wasn¡¯t huge. I examine the bits of teeth strewn around. I find traces of what look like electronic components embedded in one of them. So that was the switch. Figuring out whatever the details of the actual explosive packaging would take more time than I have today and probably a full forensics team.


    So much for my work as an interrogator. I was ready to rip his fingers off one by one until he talked, but now there¡¯s no way to get any information from him.


    I rifle through Mr. Wu¡¯s pockets and confirm that he¡¯s carrying literally nothing. No ID of any kind, no phone, nothing personal at all. The suit looks like it¡¯s standard off the rack, the shoes the sort I could buy at any store. Who was this guy?


    I arrive back at the conference room to a few muted cheers. Keeya and Lucie are encircled around by several of my sisters near where someone made a coffin for Chad, a nice box with clean lines and bevels around the edges. They¡¯re softly crying, holding hands with each other as they kneel next to it.


    Dorothy¡¯s corpse is gone. It takes me a moment to find both the body and head where someone moved them, one of the bedrooms down the hall. That¡¯s fine for now.


    Marc seems to have recovered from his shock. He and the Geologists have pulled chairs into a circle surrounding a three dimensional model of the estate, the cliff, and the river.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got an option,¡± Stan says, looking up as I approach. ¡°We think we can cover this whole thing up.¡±


    ¡°Good, what do you have?¡± I ask him.


    ¡°An earthquake,¡± he says, his voice serious. ¡°Or something that looks a lot like one. This whole area is a tectonic sweet spot. Right on a fault line, lots of dams built relatively recently, extensive coal mining, and fracking for natural gas and oil. It¡¯s a miracle there hasn¡¯t been a huge quake here this decade. And a big chunk of the cliff below is hollow. It was rigged up like some kind of secret prison. That¡¯s where we found our guides locked up, anyway.¡±


    The guides! I hadn¡¯t even thought to check for them. I don¡¯t have a big underground space on my mental map, so that must have had electromagnetic shielding at its entrance too.


    ¡°Are they OK?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re fine. Anxious to get out of here, but fine. Once we unlocked their cells, I told them to wait for us on the boats. They¡¯re all back down on the river now. But that¡¯s not the important part. The important part is that one little tremor and this whole place slides into the water.¡±


    I take a look at their model. The detail on it is exquisite, down to individual trees around the estate that I can feel outside now. The cliff face is marked up with a series of lines, points,  and curves in various colors. ¡°Those are force diagrams?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yeah. And the order and timing we need to hit them in to make it look natural. We¡¯re going to knock the estate off the cliff the same way an earthquake would. Here¡¯s the beautiful part: the nearest seismic monitoring station is hundreds of kilometers from here. At that range, the destruction we¡¯ll cause should register as a minor quake that could have actually done what we¡¯re going to cause.¡±


    ¡°How about any collateral damage?¡± I ask. ¡±If we break any of the dams, we¡¯ll cause flooding that does more harm than we fixed this whole trip.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we checked that,¡± he assures me. ¡°We won¡¯t crack the dam near here upstream or break anything downstream. At least, we won¡¯t if we¡¯re very careful. And just a little bit lucky.¡±


    I nod, evaluating the risks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there are any other options?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Not that we could come up with. Of course, you did leave the problem up to a group that¡¯s mostly trained in geology and mining, so we might have been biased. But knocking the whole thing over would explain pretty well why everyone here is dead but us. We can just claim we were running late and hadn¡¯t arrived yet.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I say. I look around and raise my voice. ¡°Does anyone else have anything better?¡±


    No one answers.


    ¡°Or anything else at all?¡±


    The silence is deafening.


    ¡°OK. Earthquake it is then.¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    I look over at the staff, guards, and pilot bound to the floor in neat rows on one side of the room. I don¡¯t see anything in the plans for them.


    ¡°Anyone come up with any ideas for what we should do with our prisoners?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s not too late to just kill them.¡±


    Louise shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that, but I still don¡¯t have a good answer. We¡¯re not going to kill them. We¡¯ll figure something else out.¡±


    Yang Song comes over, Lin trailing behind her. ¡°The staff here were all chosen especially for their discretion. They often use this place for events where the attendees would rather be forgotten. They can be trusted to stay silent, for the right price.¡±


    ¡°So we just buy them off and trust them to never mention us then?¡± I ask her.


    ¡°If you have funds available here, then yes,¡± she replies. ¡°It would be unwise to leave a paper trail in a case like this.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t bring a suitcase full of cash,¡± I say. ¡°We¡¯ve been getting everything we need in small withdrawals from banks as we go.¡±


    Lin¡¯s dull eyes brighten a bit. She turns to Louise.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got something better. The statue. Where did you put the gift from last night?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s back in my room. Why?¡± she pauses for a split second. ¡°Oh, duh. That thing is solid gold, right?¡±


    ¡°With gems worth even more than the metal. I helped commission the piece and select the materials, but this is a better use for it.¡±


    Louise retrieves the statue and with Lin¡¯s guidance I break it down into eighteen equally valuable pieces of gem-studded gold. Doing something useful seems to invigorate Lin. While we work, Louise removes the gags of each of the prisoners one by one to allow Yang Song to negotiate with them. From the way they look at me while she¡¯s talking, I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯s telling them I¡¯ll kill them if they don¡¯t take the deal, but I don¡¯t care what she says as long as it works. Each of the thirteen guards, four staff members, and the pilot agree to settle down anywhere but China, keep a low profile, and never speak of the last couple of days.


    We offer her and Max a cut, too, but they both refuse. Max only asks for the chance to come back to campus with us to see Father¡¯s research lab and access his notes. Louise enthusiastically agrees to that without asking any of the rest of us. Looks like she just got a new research assistant. Or maybe she¡¯s going to be his research assistant? I¡¯m not clear on the dynamic there.


    Yang Song just seems to be planning to follow Lin around wherever she goes. Where is Lin going?


    ¡°What do you want to do next?¡± I ask her. ¡°Are you going back to Beijing?¡±


    ¡°There is nothing for me there, Noah.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to come join us in America,¡± I tell her. ¡°Do you want to?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± she says. ¡°Do you mean it? Could I?¡±


    ¡°I think so. Do you still have a valid visa from your trip? If not, we could always smuggle you in.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still legal,¡± she says. ¡°Are you sure about this? My father was deeply involved with dangerous people. They may come after me, even if your plan to cover this up succeeds.¡±


    ¡°Then definitely,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere in the world safer than our campus. Please, come with us.¡±


    ¡°I will!¡±


    ¡°Then I will come, too,¡± Yang Song declares. Her tone doesn¡¯t allow for any argument.


    Yeah, she¡¯s planning to follow Lin the rest of her life.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s get started on our earthquake,¡± I say.


    I spend some quality time over the next hour with a whole lot of dead bodies. I make sure that all the damage to each corpse is consistent with the damage that being crushed under tons of rock and thrown in a river might cause. In most cases, it just means flattening skulls so my bot-bullet holes won¡¯t show.  I wonder for a moment what to do with Dorothy. The cut line across her neck is way too clean. I finally just disintegrate her. Let hers be a body that is never recovered. They won¡¯t find the staff or guards either, obviously. But if Yang Song is right, no one will be looking too hard for them. By the time I¡¯m done, no investigation will show anything but earthquake damage to any of the bodies they find.


    While I¡¯m playing butcher, my siblings get all our gear and Chad¡¯s coffin loaded onto our boats. The guards and staff are all loose now, and seem to be taking everything in stride. Like this isn¡¯t the strangest and worst thing they¡¯ve ever seen. Under Yang Song¡¯s direction, they¡¯re even helping to scrub everything we might have touched while we were here so there aren¡¯t even fingerprints linking us to the place. Evan breaks down the solar panel and battery he built in the middle of the room during his presentation a million years and a few hours ago.


    Finally, we¡¯re as ready as we¡¯re going to be. We push off and get the boats far enough downstream that we should avoid anything falling down on us.


    Stan, Steph, and Phil lay out guidelines for the rest of us to follow. Where to bore, where to knock, where to vibrate, where to smash. It takes a couple of hours of practice to get the routine down perfectly. Finally, we execute the plan and the wall of stone rising up from the river begins to shudder. With a cataclysmic crack, the entire cliffside with the estate on top comes crashing down. The whole cliff rolls as it falls, grinding the building to rubble along with everything inside of it.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Phil yells.


    The boats buck with the huge swells of water. Marc retches over the side, but everyone else seems all right.


    Once the water settles, I let my cloud shrink down to a more comfortable size. The headache that¡¯s been raging through my brain finally subsides. I almost collapse to the deck in relief.


    Once the dizziness fades and I can stand up without needing to support myself on the railing. I gather the whole ground around.


    ¡°Is everyone clear on the story?¡± I ask. ¡°Jen, say it back to me.¡±


    ¡°We were running late because of mechanical problems after we crossed the border. We arrived just in time to feel the earthquake and see the cliff fall,¡± Jen says. ¡°Chad flew into the wreckage to look for survivors, and was killed by falling rocks. Max, Lin, and Yang Song were out jogging when the earthquake happened. They saw our boats and flagged us down.¡±


    I make everyone repeat it several times. Then Yang Song does the same thing in Chinese for the staff and guards, in case anyone ever tracks them down and questions them. I hope Yang Song is right and we can trust them to remember all the events the right way.


    The guides take it all in stride and don¡¯t question why we need the lie. They missed most of the excitement, but being locked up at gunpoint was enough that they¡¯re just glad to be out of there.


    I hope everyone can keep their mouths shut. Maybe I should kill them just to be safe. No. It would be too inconvenient, more trouble than it''s worth when Louise finds out.

 Sat 01/06 11:26:22 ICT

    We have all the guards and staff hide inside one of the bedrooms as we go past the border station. Andrea works her magic and now the door to the room from the cabin of the cat looks exactly like a wall. The border agents don¡¯t look at it twice. Once we¡¯re through, we find a nice enough looking town in Myanmar. With their payoff, and a little petty cash that we pulled together, they should be able to get anywhere they want within a few days.


    ¡°So the rest of the trip is scrapped, right?¡± Evan observes.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± Louise replies.


    ¡°Maybe we can reschedule it for a few years from now,¡± he says hopefully.


    ¡°Sure,¡± she says. ¡°If the Chinese buy our story and don¡¯t think we¡¯re terrorists or enemies of the state or whatever.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± I interject. ¡°With the filters in the river, we got most of the work we needed done. Whatever gets dumped upstream won¡¯t cause anywhere near the damage it used to. Let¡¯s just get back home as fast as we can.¡±


    Nobody objects. Evan and the guides get all the boats moving downstream at top speed.


    I get on my tablet and start making arrangements. Cindy will get the family jet to the nearest airport that can handle it, the Hauy Xai airport in Laos. Even at our fastest, it¡¯ll be a couple of days until we get there. Sheryl will contact the media and the Chinese government and get our official story out there before any other news about it can break. We¡¯ll use Chad''s heroic accidental death as the excuse for cutting the trip short.


    I put the tablet down and go to check on Keeya and Lucie. I have to walk past Chad¡¯s coffin on their deck to get to them. They¡¯re in their room with Andrea, the door halfway open. Keeya waves me in when I step near the threshold.


    ¡°How are you two holding up?¡± I ask. I never know what to say in situations like this, so the best I can think of is just to check up on them.


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    ¡°We have seen better days,¡± Keeya replies.


    ¡°Like every day of our lives before yesterday,¡± Lucie adds.


    Keeya barks out a half-laugh, half-sob. ¡°Yes, like all of those.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going straight back to the Butler Institute campus once we get to the Hauy Xai airport,¡± I tell them. ¡°Would you like to come along? You¡¯re welcome to stay as long as you like. Unless you have things you need to deal with back in Africa...¡±


    I trail off, not knowing what else to say.


    ¡°We should get back and close out the work that Chad was scheduled to do,¡± Keeya says. ¡°Your offer is kind, though. We would like to visit once things have settled down.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be happy to see you again,¡± I say.


    I sit with them for a while after that, none of us saying anything.


    ¡°How is Lin doing?¡± Lucie finally asks.


    ¡°I wish I knew,¡± I answer. ¡°She was having a tough time this morning, and hasn¡¯t felt like talking much today.¡±


    ¡°You should go be with her,¡± Keeya says. ¡°We will be fine here. We have Andrea to entertain us.¡±


    Andrea nods and flicks her fingers. A cartoonishly young and skinny Chad in a tank top appears in the air. A set of dumbbells appears and the figure struggles to lift one of them. After a few tries, his arms visibly swell and he starts lifting them easily.


    ¡°So that¡¯s when he started weight training,¡± Lucie says. ¡°Did he ever say why?¡±


    A wall materializes behind the Chad cartoon. A poster of a ridiculously proportioned woman in a bikini appears on it.


    Lucie barks out a laugh. A few tears stream down her cheek. ¡°That is so very much our Chad.¡±


    Keeya nods.


    As much as I¡¯d like to stay and watch Andrea¡¯s animated version of Chad¡¯s life, Keeya is right. I should go check on Lin. I leave the three of them and make my way to Louise¡¯s boat.


    I pass Yang Song who is sitting at a shaded table on the deck, staring into the distance. If she notices me, she doesn¡¯t give any indication of it. I find Lin inside the cabin, sitting on the floor with her back to the wall.


    ¡°You mind some company?¡± I ask her. She looks up at me and nods. I sit down next to her. She puts her hand on mind and grips it firmly.


    ¡°Want to talk about any of it?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Not yet. Just stay here with me,¡± is all she says. So I do. I stay there the rest of the day.

 Mon 01/08 01:05:44 ICT

    The trucks that pick us up from our boats only take a few minutes to get to the airport. Our jet is waiting for us when we get there. I give Keeya and Lucie each a hug.


    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to at least come for the funeral?¡± I ask.


    Lucie shakes her head. ¡°We¡¯ve said our goodbyes.¡±


    ¡°Well, come visit us soon,¡± Louise insists.


    The flight back is packed full. With Max, Lin, and Yang Song added as passengers, every seat is full and we need to create a few extra ones. Once we get into the air, Lin and I claim the back bedroom. We¡¯re all so tired, Evan doesn¡¯t even bother giving me a sly look. Lin and I sit on the bed with our backs to the wall, our fingers interlaced. Fifteen minutes later, Yang Song comes by, nominally to see if Lin wants anything to drink, but really because she¡¯s not at all comfortable with our relationship.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready to talk,¡± Lin says once Yang Song leaves.


    ¡°I understand what you¡¯ve been going through,¡± I tell her. ¡°At least, I understand it as well as anyone possibly can.¡±


    ¡°You are sweet, Noah,¡± she tells me.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s the thing,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not sweet. There¡¯s a lot you still don¡¯t know about me. You may not want to be with me once you know. I would understand if in a few hours, you never want to see me again.¡±


    She looks at me expectantly.


    I double-check my logs. I have permission from Evan, Louise, and Andrea to bring her in on the biggest secret of our lives. I had to agree to let Evan tell Valerie, and each of my sisters get a one-time pass to bring someone else into the circle of trust at their discretion, but it was worth it.


    ¡°It all started when my mom died,¡± I begin. I start telling her everything. Coming to the campus, finding out about Father¡¯s involvement with Mom¡¯s death, getting the implant, ignoring all the warning signs and burning myself down to nothing day after day to master the damn thing, the damage that it caused me, the ways I used the implant to work around the disabilities I had brought down on myself. Through it all, she holds my hand and attentively listens.


    Yang Song stops by again with a plate of food and insists that Lin eat. She does and Yang Song leaves.


    ¡°So you forget everything every day and have to relearn it all?¡± Lin asks once we''re alone again.


    ¡°Something like that. I still have the memories in there somewhere, some of them, anyway. They just don¡¯t come to me like they should. Memory is more complicated than you might think. Skills tend to stay better than experiences. My short term memory mostly works, and I can hold what I read for hours, but I''m only functional at all because I have a computer in my head.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not so bad,¡± she says. ¡°It sounds like you have a system that works for you.¡±


    ¡°I do. But none of that was the bad part. I¡¯m still getting to that.¡± She nods and settles back in to listen. ¡°The more I learned about the implant and the cloud,¡± I continue, ¡°the more certain I became that we couldn¡¯t kill my father with just those. He knew them too intimately. They were his. We needed an edge that he wouldn¡¯t expect. I had to make a sacrifice.¡±


    I brace myself for the devastating rush of shame I know is coming as I describe how I manipulated Jeff, gaining his trust only to use it to drive him closer and closer to the edge. How I played on his paranoia and fear of the sentient AI that built the bots in the first place. With each sentence, I know I should feel a crushing wave of guilt, but I don¡¯t. Why don¡¯t I feel what I¡¯ve always written that I felt? I describe exactly how I betrayed my brother, putting his life on the line to force Father to choose between his own life or his son¡¯s, but for some reason I just feel¡­


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    Nothing.


    No remorse. No guilt.


    That¡¯s new. And maybe troubling.


    ¡°And so I killed my father. Jeff held the knife. The scalpel, I mean. But my hand was the one pushing his, if you know what I mean. The cameras showed me standing across the room and Jeff slashing his throat open so I could make sure that he would take the fall for it and not me. And he did. He¡¯s locked up indefinitely at the Wallace Hospital now for psychiatric treatment. He¡¯ll probably never get out.¡±


    She looks at me for a long time, her face unreadable. I can¡¯t even bring myself to read her vitals. She¡¯ll hate me now. This thing that I had for a moment will be gone forever.


    ¡°I¡­¡± I start. I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m trying to say. ¡°I¡¯ll go. Give you time to process.¡±


    I start to get up. She grabs my arm, pulling me back. She keeps pulling until she forces me down on my back with my head on her lap. Her fingers run through my hair. That feels nice.


    ¡°Hush,¡± she says. ¡°You are mine. No matter how broken you are, you are mine.¡±


    At last a feeling breaks through the numbness. I think I really love her.


    ¡°I still talk to my Mom,¡± I confide. ¡°I know she¡¯s dead, but I still talk to her. Never out loud, just in my implant console where I write all my thoughts. You might not want a crazy person who speaks to the dead.¡±


    ¡°I still talk to mine sometimes, too,¡± she says. She traces her fingers across my scalp. I feel a warm drop on my forehead and look up in time to see another tear fall from her cheek.


    She tells me about her mother¡¯s death, the years of her father¡¯s abuse, the mind-numbing pain of cancer and chemo, the drugs, the dependency, the withdrawals, and the hopelessness of knowing that she was dying anyway despite it all.


    ¡°Then there was you and Louise and Evan and your little magic nanobots. And hope. For the first time in so long, real hope. And a day without pain, and then another, and another. And you were so cute. And then you wrote back to me. And you were so¡­ you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never thought of me being me as anything worth being.¡± The words come out automatically, but the feelings I know I should have behind them just aren¡¯t there. Something is wrong with me again, something new.


    ¡°Hush,¡± Lin commands again. ¡°Whatever made you who you are now, everything that led up to the creation of this man who is now mine, I am glad for it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you feel that way,¡± I tell her. ¡°I never thought anyone would ever want anything to do with me if they knew who I really am.¡±


    ¡°I watched what you did. On the cameras. I know you will kill when you need to. I also believe you would only do it if it was the right thing to do. I trust you, Noah.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I stare up into her eyes as she runs her fingers through my hair. She¡¯s so beautiful, even with the purple bruises covering half her face. She trusts me. Why? I don¡¯t even trust me.


    ¡°Does it get better?¡± she asks. ¡°The guilt?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s gotten better for me,¡± I tell her. ¡°But it¡¯s been a long road to get there.¡±


    I tell her about the many months of self-deprivation, the constant guilt that feels somehow alien to me now, the boat in the Pacific where I tried and failed to end it all. Then the path out, the endless hours talking to Andrea as she did her best impression of a silent head shrink.


    I don¡¯t mention how the guilt has seemed to magically disappear over the last few days. I don¡¯t even feel a shred of remorse for all the people I killed at the conference. Or about Father anymore, now that I think about it. Or Jeff? Why don¡¯t I even care anymore about the brother I destroyed? Whatever is going on with my gray matter, it¡¯s not likely to be something she can duplicate.


    ¡°I hope it gets better.¡± She breaks down sobbing and now it¡¯s my turn to put her head on my lap and stroke her scalp through her short hair.


    If my capacity for guilt and shame has been destroyed by my ever-evolving brain, at least my ability to care for her hasn¡¯t gone with it. I feel the same way about her when she¡¯s broken, hurting, and crying as I did when she was happy, teasing, and geeking out in our letters and chats.


    No. I care more for her now.


    I understand her, and I think she understands me.


    Is this what love is? If it¡¯s not, I don¡¯t care about love anymore. I just want this.

 Mon 01/08 23:39:18 PST

    The airstrip is empty. Something is wrong. There should be cars waiting here to drive us back to the campus. It¡¯s not like Alan to fail at something like this, his attention to detail wouldn¡¯t allow it.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± I tell everyone. ¡°I¡¯ll go see where our rides are.¡±


    I suit up for the short flight to campus. Behind me, Evan and Louise do the same. I see an ambulance at the gate as we approach. I extend my cloud and feel the area out with my bots. Mrs. Hastings lies on the stretcher near the Research Center doors. She¡¯s got a stab wound in her side. We land and Louise rushes to her side.


    From Louise: It¡¯s not good, I think her kidney is punctured.


    The paramedics are moving her now, rushing quickly towards the ambulance. I scan the area, trying to figure out what happened and making sure no one else is injured. They¡¯re loading her in now.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Louise demands. She climbs into the ambulance with Mrs. Hastings, cracking open the box of medical bots at her hip as the doors close.


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    On the commons, there¡¯s a swirling chaos of pajama-clad siblings, nannies, and other staff trying to see what happened and figure out what¡¯s going on. I spot Alan near the edge of it and run over to him.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± I ask, shouting to be heard above the commotion.


    ¡°Sir!¡± he says as he sees me. ¡°I am so glad to see you! I¡¯m still trying to piece things together, but from what I¡¯ve found out, they came and stole a truckload of gear from the research lab. Mrs. Hastings tried to stop them. He stabbed her and they drove off!¡±


    ¡°They? He? Who did this?¡±


    ¡°There were ten of them, dressed in what looked like military gear, but all in black. They wore masks, except for one of them. He was the one who stabbed Mrs. Hastings. I saw him just as they were leaving, but didn¡¯t recognize him. Some of the staff did, though. They said he was one of your brothers.¡±


    ¡°Someone from here did this?¡± I demand. ¡°Who?¡±


    Who would steal from the lab? And stab Mrs. Hastings? The oldest of my brothers still here on campus are way too young to have been involved with whatever quasi-military group just raided the campus.


    ¡°Jeff,¡± Alan answers. ¡°They said his name was Jeff.¡±

 Daily Reminder - Fri 01/12 (Updated Sat 08/10 09:01:04)

    Noah,


    There might be a girl next to you wherever you¡¯ve been sleeping. Her name is Lin. You¡¯ll remember her soon. You love her and she loves you, so don¡¯t mess things up with her. She¡¯s the best part of our life.


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    Read up. It shouldn¡¯t take you long to get your gray matter stuffed full of all the things you can¡¯t remember. It¡¯ll only last a few hours, but it¡¯s the closest thing we can get to having a working knowledge of our life.


    Trust the index. Trust your past self. Trust Lin, Valerie, and your siblings except for Jeff. Jeff will kill you if he gets a chance.


    ¡ªNoah

 My Life So Far

    Unlike my siblings, I grew up out in the regular world. After Mom died, I went to live with the father that I¡¯d never known, the famous genius Tom Butler. I came to suspect that Father had killed Mom so he could use me as a guinea pig for his experimental brain implant and the nanotech it controls. It turned out that Father was only sort of responsible, but that didn¡¯t stop me from killing him. I used to feel bad about that, but I think in the end it was the right thing to do. I had to sacrifice my brother Jeff to make it happen. He didn¡¯t die, but I wrecked his mind, used him up, and pinned the whole thing on him. He¡¯s been at the Wallace Hospital since then, an institution for the criminally insane. I tried to kill myself one time over the whole thing, but I¡¯ve made my peace with it now. I¡¯ve been trying to do as much good in the world as I can to make up for it all. We¡¯ve got a good plan to solve pretty much every major problem in the world over the next couple of decades, and thanks to Father we¡¯ve got the tools to do the job. We just need to put in the work to get it done.


    The implant Father gave me explains why I have an overlay permanently embedded in my field of vision. It¡¯s also why I can feel a cloud of self-replicating nanobots like they are a part of my body. The implant gave me and some of my siblings the power to take down Father, but it also wrecked me for a lot of normal life things, like being able to remember my life. Having a computer in my head helps me cope though. I get prompts all the time reminding me of who people are and things I need to do. If I use them right, I can mostly fake still being a human being.


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    I met Lin when she was dying of a brain tumor. My sister Louise saved her life with Father¡¯s amazing medical innovations using our family¡¯s nanotech. I¡¯m still not sure why, but Lin took a liking to me. She went back to her home in China afterwards, but we started writing to each other and really hit it off. When we went to Southeast Asia later that year to clean up the Mekong River basin, we met up with her. That didn¡¯t go super well, since her father sold us out to some shadowy international consortium that wanted to weaponize our tech for all sorts of bad things. Things got worse from there. My brother Chad got killed. I did a whole lot of killing. I don¡¯t feel bad about any of that at all. Anyway, Lin¡¯s father ended up taking some hostages to try to save his own skin. Lin had to choose sides, and ended up killing him. It wasn¡¯t a great day for any of us.


    We left in a hurry, taking Lin, Yang Song (Lin¡¯s translator and bodyguard), and a German scientist named Max Braun with us back home to the Butler Institute in Nevada. I was looking forward to some quiet time helping Lin to get over killing that whole thing about her father, but no such luck. My brother Jeff had somehow gotten loose from the Wallace Hospital. He broke into the campus, stole a bunch of tech from Father¡¯s lab, and stabbed Mrs. Hastings on his way out. With what he knows, the gear he stole, and the fact that he has every reason to hate us, we¡¯ve got a little bit of a problem on our hands.

 Fri 01/12 14:41:03 PST

    ¡°It¡¯s not looking good, Noah.¡± Louise shakes her head and points to the model of my brain floating between us. ¡°See here in the orbitofrontal cortex? And over here in this section of the amygdala?¡±


    I don¡¯t know what those are until my index helpfully pops up entries for them, but I can see that she¡¯d highlighted some chunks of my gray matter. I nod anyway.


    ¡°Those are not doing what they¡¯re supposed to be doing. Not at all.¡±


    I knew something wasn¡¯t right. ¡°And what are they supposed to be doing?¡±


    ¡°A bunch of things including emotional appraisal, moral reasoning, impulse control, some social processing, and learning reinforcement. A lot of smell and taste processing too, but you said those were still working right.¡±


    ¡°As far as I can remember, anyway. Meaning food still tastes like I described it to myself.¡±


    ¡°Right. But these highlighted parts of these nodes aren¡¯t running anything like the textbook normal now. Instead they¡¯re showing some of the same unusual patterns that you exhibit in your temporal lobe. Which I think means you¡¯ve reprogrammed yourself again.¡±


    ¡°Any chance you can reverse it?¡±


    She looks at me and shakes her head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t even know where to start. If you want me to bring Max in on this, he might have ideas. But I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any precedent for what you¡¯re doing to yourself.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I planned this!¡±


    ¡°Of course not. You just ignored what I told you and pushed yourself on the implant again and again. You¡¯ve kept your cloud minimal since we got back?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And I didn¡¯t exactly have a choice, Louise.¡±


    ¡°You always have a choice, Noah. You chose to do everything on your own. We could have helped.¡± I open my mouth to protest, but she continues on before I can get a word out. ¡°Anyway, do you want me to get Max to help on this or not?¡±


    I shake my head. Max Braun may be the genius Louise thinks he is, and he certainly helped us when we needed him when our Southeast Asia trip went to hell in China, but I still barely know the guy. I¡¯m not about to bring him into the circle of trust on the secret of my broken mind. ¡°Let¡¯s keep this in the family, at least for now.¡± I get up and unplug the cable connecting my processing appliance to the server rack in Louise¡¯s lab.


    DEBUG INTERFACE TERMINATED


    The projected image of my brain winks out. Louise takes the cable from my hands and stows it on its shelf, then turns and puts a hand on my arm. ¡°I¡¯m not saying you didn¡¯t do the right thing. I don¡¯t know what would have happened if you hadn¡¯t stepped up and taken care of things like you did. But you can¡¯t pick up just one end of a stick, and this new remodeling is the consequence we¡¯ll have to deal with. You know I¡¯m here to help you, whatever you need. I just don¡¯t know if we can do anything from the biology side.¡±


    I sigh, letting my growing frustration dissipate as I resign myself to more workarounds. She¡¯s probably right. If this is like my previous brain damage, there¡¯s not a way to undo it. It¡¯s fine. I can compensate for this on the electronic side of my brain. I¡¯ve done it before with bigger problems. I can do it again. I¡¯ve known the social cue processing stuff was failing for a while now and I¡¯ve already started on algorithms to substitute for that. How hard can it be to program up a synthetic conscience?


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    I look down at my bricklike processing appliance. Its resources are already pretty stretched with what I have it doing now. A huge database, an advanced math solver, a language parser, a text scanner, image recognition, and a whole lot of glue code that ties them all to each other and to the parts of my biological mind that have adapted themselves to partner with my implant. Maybe it¡¯s time for an upgrade to the silicon side of me. ¡°Hey Louise, can we hook my implant up to something with a lot more CPUs and RAM?¡±


    She looks thoughtful for a second, then nods. ¡°I see what you¡¯re thinking, and I don¡¯t see why not. Father had these rigs custom built for us for their size, weight, and power, but there¡¯s no reason we couldn¡¯t install all the right software and security stuff on something newer and bigger. Maybe a processing array made from the chips SynTech is using on those new smartphones. You¡¯ll probably have to set up a continuous cloud task to transfer power to it and keep it cooled, but as long as you don¡¯t mind doing that and lugging something heavier around it¡¯s probably doable. Might want to check with the SynTech dev guys first though, I really only know the implant side of it well.¡±


    I nod. None of that should be hard. I bet the devs can cook up the custom silicon I would need in a few weeks and I can put it all together into a chassis I can build with the bots. I¡¯ll need to get help to design and write all the new code, since I¡¯m not going to farm that out to the company guys. Evan will be able to give me a hand. Maybe I can even get Lin to help, though she¡¯ll have a lot to learn about our tech before she¡¯ll be able to do much.


    ¡°Thanks, sister. And thanks for coming back from the hospital to check this for me. How¡¯s Mrs. Hastings doing today?¡±


    ¡°Better than yesterday, but they said they don¡¯t want to release her for at least another week, even though the nanosurgery I did in the ambulance had already repaired a lot of the damage from Jeff¡¯s knife before they even admitted her. She could have walked out and been fine if she didn¡¯t listen to the docs, but you know her, she likes everyone to follow the rules.¡±


    ¡°That she does.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably for the best. They have more and better drugs there than what we can provide, and if she got all septic I don¡¯t think that even my best tricks could help much.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t just do your magic like you did when I got sick on the river?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I only know how to deal with viral infections so far. Bacteria or fungus or whatever else are beyond me right now.¡±


    ¡°Seems like those would be easier. Cause they¡¯re bigger, right? Just go in and zap ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°Gee, thanks Doctor Noah.¡± Her voice gets slower and the pitch goes lower. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you¡¯d been training to take over the field I¡¯ve spent every day for the last two years studying.¡±


    Is that sarcasm? That must be sarcasm. Why is it getting harder to tell?


    ¡°I think I¡¯m just going to shut up now.¡±


    ¡°You think? Maybe you should tell me more about which infections are easier for nanobots to handle without wrecking the human body since you¡¯re such an expert.¡±


    Now I know she¡¯s making fun of me, but at least she¡¯s smiling while she does it.


    ¡°You know what? I think I have a meeting with the legal team now. Or something very believable like that.¡±


    ¡°Before you go, how¡¯s Lin doing today? Any better?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°About the same as yesterday. Still holing up in her room in the Residence most of the time. I dropped by earlier but she just said she wanted to be alone. Won¡¯t even let Yang Song come in to see her.¡±


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s got a lot to work through. Give her time.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of choices there. What else can I do?¡±


    ¡°You could be a total ass and try to haul her out of her grief by force.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, good idea. Let me go try that.¡±


    ¡°Right. Let me know how it goes. Better yet, let me know when you¡¯re doing it so I can pop some popcorn.¡± That¡¯s sarcasm for sure, I think. While I¡¯m tweaking my polygraph parameters for her to help me pick it up better, she starts making shooing motions with her hands. ¡°Now get out of my lab. Come back in three days so we can run all the scans again. I need to make sure you¡¯re not getting worse or I¡¯m going to have to cut you off from your cloud.¡±

 Mon 01/15 10:03:09 PST

    ¡°Let¡¯s go through this all again, if you don¡¯t mind. From the beginning.¡±


    I suppress the groan. How many times do the Feds need to hear something before they¡¯ll accept the story. At least since I¡¯m just reading it out of my electronic memory I know I¡¯ll stay consistent.


    ¡°Do you want me to just tell you what I saw that night? Or everything with the security footage that I saw later?¡±


    Maria Hall, the head investigator assigned from the Critical Technology Task Force, shifts in her seat across the small table from me and flips to a clean page in her notebook. She¡¯s young for her role as the Deputy Chief of the task force, maybe thirty-five according to her biometrics, but the way she wears her dark hair in a severe bun behind her head makes her look older. Her eyes look out over the tops of the small oval lenses of her glasses. ¡°Just tell me everything you know about the night you arrived back in the United States. The night of the alleged theft of your intellectual property.¡±


    I almost regret involving the government authorities, but there really wasn¡¯t any way to avoid it once the ambulance had been called, and that was before I had been here to do anything about it. The police had come in that night and stayed into the next day, trying to look over the whole crime scene. Of course we couldn¡¯t have that because we have some shadowy but crazy powerful multinational cabal after us and our tech. It would have been way too easy for them to plant someone in the County Sheriff''s office that has jurisdiction over our little chunk of the Nevada desert and have them steal even more of our gear or plug a thumb drive into one of our servers or something. So we brought in the relevant agency of the federal government to call off the locals, figuring they would have been a little harder to penetrate.


    The investigator taps her pen against the table. I¡¯m taking too long to answer her.


    ¡°Fine. We¡¯ve been over it three times already, but here it is again. The surveillance video from our security cameras showed two vehicles coming into our campus. One was a pickup truck, a big black thing with one of those hard covers over the back and reinforced bars across the front grill. That¡¯s the one that drove through and wrecked the front gates. The second vehicle was a large passenger van that followed a little bit behind the truck. They both plowed right over the grass of what we call the commons.¡± I gesture out the window of the office to where we can still see the tire damage to the field below. ¡°Then they pulled up to the big double doors of the Research Center.¡±


    ¡°That building over there?¡± She points to the shining steel-and-glass structure that the tire marks lead to.


    I carefully avoid rolling my eyes. ¡°Yes, that one. Then my brother Jeff got out of the van, along with half a dozen guys wearing masks and holding guns.¡±


    ¡°And how do you know that one of them was your brother?¡±


    ¡°His face was clearly visible in the security footage. He looked right at the camera. I think he wanted to make sure we knew it was him.¡±


    I look for a moment at the image from that night captured in my index. There was no question it was him, even though his tall, lean frame had moved with a sinewy strength that I had never seen in real life. That face, and that humorless grin, that was all Jeff.


    She nods and jots some notes. ¡°And where was your security team when this happened?¡±


    ¡°They were in their office, calling for backup. We kept two on duty at a time, so they saw they were outnumbered. They started making calls within thirty seconds of the intruders breaking down the gate. All according to approved security policies.¡±


    ¡°And keeping two guards on duty was standard procedure here?¡±


    ¡°It was. Which is one more than we¡¯re required to have under section 142A of your agency¡¯s rules for secure storage of sensitive technology. We¡¯ve upped it to six at a time since the break-in until we can finish installing some more reliable countermeasures using our family¡¯s proprietary technology.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t respond, simply scribbles a few more notes before looking up at me over her glasses again.


    ¡°So then Jeff led the six men into our Research Center. The two in the truck and the driver of the van stayed outside. He tried the biometric locks on the building, but they had been updated since he was arrested for killing our father, so they didn¡¯t open the doors for him. They used a plasma cutting torch they pulled from the truck instead. You can see the damage from here.¡± I point out the still-ruined metal of the doors where the two security guards stand now. I or several of my siblings could have fixed that with a few minutes of concentration using our nanobot clouds, but we¡¯ve been waiting for this stupid investigation to end.


    She nods.


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    ¡°They tried and failed to breach our primary research lab. The door to that was barely scratched by either the cutting torch or the explosive charges they brought, so they raided one of the secondary labs instead. The explosions did make a lot of noise though. That was when several of my younger siblings and members of the Institute staff that live on campus started coming outside to see what was going on. The drivers of the two vehicles held guns through their windows and told them to stay back. After a few minutes, Jeff came out from the building carrying a computer case, a big tower from the secondary lab. He loaded it into the pickup, then the six men came out hauling stacks of servers and other gear out. They loaded all of it into the bed of the truck.¡±


    ¡°And was that when one of your employees attempted to confront them?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Mrs. Hastings.¡± The image of her from the security cameras that night pops into my overlay. ¡°She¡¯s the principal of the school here. Sort of the caretaker for everyone while the oldest family members were gone. She walked right up to him, still in her plaid bathrobe, ignoring all of those guns pointed at her.¡±


    ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°He had a knife. A long one with the curved tip, like you see soldiers use in the movies.¡± I don¡¯t mention that it was a Ka-Bar Marine Corps fighting knife or that the metal residue in the wound that Louise had worked on showed that it had been recently sharpened. She doesn¡¯t need to know how much our own investigations have figured out so far. ¡°And he stabbed her with it. Plunged the blade right into her side. And then they all got in the van and left.¡±


    I try to put on an appropriately emotional face, but after telling this same story several times today to her and the other guy from CTTF, whatever actual feelings I started with are pretty much gone. If the investigator notices my detachment, she doesn¡¯t show it in any of her vital signs or put it into her notes.


    ¡°And you arrived shortly afterwards?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°And what did you personally witness?¡±


    ¡°We landed about twenty minutes after they left the campus. We must have just missed the ambulance coming by our private airstrip, because they barely beat us there. We landed and the first thing that was off was that our ride back to the campus wasn¡¯t there waiting for us. When we arrived at the Institute, a couple of the nurses from our own medical staff had already performed first aid on Mrs. Hastings, and she was being loaded into the ambulance by the paramedics. My sister Louise left with them to the hospital. The staff were all trying to get the kids back inside, and trying to keep them from seeing what had happened. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t add much else to what you¡¯ll get from the security cameras.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± She adjusts her glasses. ¡°Is the inventory list you provided to us of the missing equipment full and complete to the best of your knowledge.¡±


    ¡°It is. We keep a tight hold on the technology in the Research Center and we know exactly what was missing.¡±


    ¡°One box of medical nanobots.¡± She reads it from the list. ¡°That is my agency¡¯s primary concern right now.¡±


    ¡°I understand. As you¡¯ll see in the attached addendum, the medical nanobots are less of a risk than you might think. They don¡¯t have anything like the versatility or power of our standard nanobots. Without one of the proprietary Butler Institute implants connected to them, they can¡¯t replicate. If anyone tried, they would permanently deactivate themselves per Section 17 of the Butler Treaty.¡±


    She nods. ¡°Duly noted. And you have no idea where your brother and the men that were with him might have taken your equipment?¡±


    ¡°No. The last time I saw Jeff was when he was arrested for killing our father. I haven¡¯t spoken to him since. I don¡¯t know who he was with or where they were going.¡± I leave out my suspicions about whether it was the shadowy cabal represented by Mr. Wu in China, or something outside of that group that Dorothy James had set up before we killed her, or some new friends Jeff had made in his time in the Wallace Hospital. Too many unknowns.


    ¡°You never visited your brother in jail? Or in the facility where he was later institutionalized?¡±


    That¡¯s a new question this time around. I shake my head. ¡°It was a complicated family dynamic. I had only known him for about a year. I grew up with my mother in Colorado instead of here with my father¡¯s other children.¡± I don¡¯t mention that I was probably Jeff¡¯s best friend among all the siblings, or what I did to him, or how sure I am that the knife he carried had been intended for me. Strange. Still no crushing waves of guilt and shame when I think of Jeff, even though in all my recorded memories that¡¯s the thing that stands out the most about thinking of him. Maybe my new brain damage isn¡¯t all that bad.


    She nods and silently finalizes some more notes. Nothing in what she writes down makes me think she has any suspicions that she shouldn¡¯t have. After an interminable minute and fifty-three seconds, she gets up. ¡°I¡¯m satisfied with this. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Kimball. The information you and your family have provided will be invaluable in our investigation. My supervisors at the agency may require some of your time later on, but we¡¯re done for now.¡±


    I thank her and see her out of the small room of the Residence where we¡¯ve been meeting. As I walk her to the front doors, she slows and turns to me.


    ¡°On a personal note, I was so sorry to hear that this happened to your family. Especially so soon after you lost your father and your brother Chad.¡± Her professional facade of cool impartiality fades as she looks me in the eyes. ¡°Just know that you guys have a lot of fans at our agency and we¡¯re going to do everything we can to help you.¡± She slips a card into my hand with her contact information. ¡°If there¡¯s anything you need, or if you think of anything else, please, give me a call.¡±


    My polygraph on her indicates sincerity, or I might have suspected that this was some kind of trick to put me off guard. I don¡¯t want any more intrusion from the authorities than we have to have at this point, but who knows? Maybe having a friendly contact on the task force could be useful later. I create an index entry for her in my silicon mind¡¯s database and scan in her contact information with my metal eyes before pocketing the card.


    ¡°Thanks, Maria. I appreciate it.¡±

 Wed 03/20 04:58:07 PDT

    My eyes snap open. Knowledge of who I am starts flowing into my wet brain from my reliable silicon memory like water running into a too-small cup. I look over at the empty chair by the bed. According to last night¡¯s log and a couple of dark hairs on the chair¡¯s back, Lin was there when I fell asleep. That¡¯s the last thing I have in yesterday¡¯s entries, so I must have nodded off while we were talking.


    It¡¯s still almost an hour until dawn. Plenty of time to get to the Research Center and get some work done before morning exercises. On my way down the hall of the Residence, I see a light under Max Braun¡¯s door. Our visiting neuroscientist is up early, as usual. I wonder how long he¡¯ll stay here? He doesn¡¯t have any family back in Germany, and his index entry says his university approved an extended sabbatical for his research with us. So maybe a while longer. I don¡¯t mind. He¡¯s nice enough company and Louise seems happier with him as a lab partner.


    I swing open both doors of the Research Center a few meters before I hit them, then wind my way through the maze-like corridors until I get to my hardware lab. The prototype silicon for my new processing appliance is still in the shipping package from the SynTech fab facility. I¡¯ve been waiting for these for way too long, but custom high-end microprocessors and memory modules can¡¯t be rushed. I let my bots free the new gear from its paper and plastic cages while my hands pull the customized satchel I¡¯ve been building from its spot on the shelf and put it on the lab bench.


    Instead of building a new appliance to go inside of my satchel, I¡¯m using the satchel itself as a flexible chassis. The thin nanocell battery units integrate directly into the kevlar material that forms the body of the bag, and the interior that houses the logic and memory boards will be filled with a conductive gel once I have everything installed. Once the whole thing is sealed up, all my nanobots will need to do is keep it charged using surface magnetic induction and make sure that the heat transfer matrices on the two sides of the bag stay cool enough. I won¡¯t be able to haul anything in my satchel anymore, but I rarely did anyway.


    The slots for each chip are a perfect fit. Everything built just to spec. I triple check all the fittings and get ready to fire it up for a test run. All that¡¯s left now is to crack open my current appliance and move the solid state storage drives over. I put my cloud in sleep mode and start the transition.


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    SynTech OS v.4.6.2.8128


    IMPLANT INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    Testing. Testing.


    Yes. It¡¯s alive. Over ten times the specs of my old rig, and it¡¯s not even any bigger than what I¡¯m used to carrying around, just a little heavier. It¡¯s even got longer range on its antennas so I can stray a little further from it without losing my mind.


    I kick off the diagnostic suite and let a bunch of automatic tests run while I turn on the nanobot controls and sync up to my sleeping cloud. The familiar sensations rush back in as my extended body reconnects to my now more powerful electronic mind. So far so good. I stretch my senses across the campus, noticing siblings in the dorms, staff in the residence, and the kitchen crew getting ready to service the morning rush. Out further into the desert, I feel our new network of early warning sensors spaced out across the kilometers of sand and sagebrush. Each one scans its overlapping chunk of the world using camera, radar, lidar, sonar, infrared, and all the other buzzwords that the security team used when they picked out the units. The whole system cost a lot more than we can spare, but I¡¯m not about to let anything like Jeff¡¯s invasion happen here again. Besides, as long as the Geologists come through for us, the price tag might not matter much in a few months.


    I give the appliance satchel a bend and shake and then throw it on the ground and stomp on it a few times just for good measure. It flexes with whatever force I apply, but doesn¡¯t seem at all the worse for wear, and my bots even clean off my shoe prints as they run through their charging cycle. Good enough. Finally, I sling the bag over my shoulder, my new constant companion.


    I¡¯m done with my work here none too soon. Outside, a throbbing beat starts sounding that can¡¯t penetrate my lab space but that my bots outside can¡¯t ignore. Andrea is out there with the early risers for the daily yoga torture. I wonder if Lin will come today. My index notes that she¡¯s said every day this week that she wants to do it, but she still hasn¡¯t made it yet. At least she¡¯s trying now. I think it helps a lot that she¡¯s been participating in most of the other activities of campus life instead of staying in her room crying like she did those first couple of months. Baby steps.


    I head out onto the grass to let my sister make me sore and healthy again, just like she does every day.

 Fri 04/05 11:29:41 PDT

    Alvin Gallegos, the head of SynTech security, steps into the conference room. His record in my mind¡¯s database flicks across my overlay: former marine veteran turned FBI agent, joined the company four years ago, nothing in his actions or financials that would make me suspect he might be compromised. I wait for him to finish shaking hands with Evan and Louise before taking my turn with his iron grip. I give him a smile, but his thin lips only form a tight line under his thick, graying mustache.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like admitting failure, but Mr. Wu does not exist.¡± His commanding voice leaves no room for discussion. He pulls an unmarked manila folder from his briefcase, flipping it open to the picture I supplied him of the host of our disastrous tech conference in China. ¡°He was never born, never went to school, never married, never had a criminal record, never did business anywhere with cameras, and has never been photographed other than this once. His description matches about a hundred million people.¡±


    He slides the photo over and reveals the one of the cliff-top estate we destroyed. ¡°This building never existed. It was never constructed. No workers were ever paid to build it. No materials were ever delivered to the site where it stood. The land it wasn¡¯t built on is owned by the Chinese government and no permits were ever issued, no record of it ever created, and no one within a hundred miles knew anything about it being there.¡±


    He spreads the pages of thumbnails of the conference attendees across the table. ¡°I¡¯ve got over fifty people that you reported dead, and not a single one of them has any friend, family member, or coworker that will talk to any of my people about it.¡±


    He looks around the table, his piercing eyes trying to cut through me and my siblings.


    ¡°Just what in the hell have you gotten the company involved in?¡±


    ¡°We were really hoping you could tell us,¡± Evan responds after an uncomfortable silence. ¡°Our only connection to any of this was through that Chinese general, Liu. Right, Noah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. General Liu set the whole thing up. We didn¡¯t know anything about the host other than that he was described as a friend of the general.¡±


    ¡°Whoever these guys are, I¡¯ve never seen anyone cover tracks like this. No letters, no emails, no paper trail from travel arrangements. It¡¯s as if over fifty people from around the world just decided one day to board planes with cash-paid tickets provided by an anonymous donor to go somewhere that never existed to meet someone that they didn¡¯t know.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°I can keep pouring resources into this, but I tell you, we¡¯re chasing ghosts and my guys need to get back to their day jobs.¡±


    From Evan: Maybe we should get Lin to talk to him.


    To Evan: No. I¡¯ve already told him everything Lin knows about it. And this guy reminds me way too much of her father to let him anywhere near her. I¡¯m not going to set her recovery back by letting her get interrogated.


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    My mountain of a brother shoots me a glance but finally gives a subtle nod. ¡°Well then, we¡¯ll have to continue to investigate with Institute resources. Thanks for coming out.¡±


    Alvin shakes his head. ¡°I only wish I had better news. Like I said, I don¡¯t like admitting defeat.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I tell him. ¡°And we won¡¯t. But you¡¯ve done all you can, and the company needs your attention on all its other security concerns.¡± At least that¡¯s what the CEO told me when he asked us to set up this meeting. I think he just wanted us to stop spending company money on what he doesn¡¯t consider a company expense, but of course that¡¯s part of his job.


    Once Alvin is gone, Louise turns my way. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? Just hole up here and hope that they don¡¯t raid us again? Or hope that they do?¡±


    ¡°That would make life simpler if they showed up while we were here to catch them,¡± I answer. ¡°Of course that assumes that whatever illuminati-style group we ran into in China was also behind Jeff¡¯s raid.¡±


    ¡°You seriously still think it might not be?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m keeping an open mind. But it would be nice if it was just one organization we needed to worry about. If they came back we could get one of them and make sure they don¡¯t have a working one of those suicide head exploding things like Mr. Wu. I bet we could get them to talk.¡±


    ¡°Not going to happen.¡± Evan slumps in his chair. ¡°There¡¯s no way they¡¯d be dumb enough to hit us while any of the three of us or Andrea are here. And it¡¯s not like there¡¯s any chance we¡¯d all leave at the same time again.¡±


    He¡¯s right. We¡¯d be crazy to imagine that Jeff wouldn¡¯t have told his benefactors all about the specs of our cloud¡¯s defense systems.


    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here forever.¡± I stand up. ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot of public goodwill behind us right now after all the news outlets turned Chad into the hero of the century. We need to strike while the iron is hot and use that PR to get as many mineral rights as we can right now.¡±


    Louise laughs. ¡°That¡¯s the thing that¡¯s on the top of your mind?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of the magic bullet right now. Solves the financials, solves environmental disasters in hundreds of places, and if Stan¡¯s estimates are right about what his class¡¯s autominers can do, solves mineral resource scarcity within twenty years.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. You¡¯re the money and priorities guy.¡± She gets up and starts walking toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be in my lab if you need me.¡±


    I wave her off and walk over to sit next to Evan. ¡°So, you and Valerie still want to come with me to Denver? Meet my grandparents? That just leaves Louise and Andrea guarding the homefront.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. They¡¯ll be fine. Especially Andrea. You¡¯ve seen her new stuff she¡¯s been working on, right?¡±


    I nod. ¡°She could stop an army without breaking a sweat.¡±


    ¡°You still think you¡¯ll be able to tear yourself away from your office?¡±


    ¡°Not for at least another month, but yeah. Once I get the tentative deals I¡¯m working on for the mineral rights done, I¡¯ll need to run around to a bunch of places to close and sign stuff. We can make a stop in Denver at the end of that travel. You can come along if you¡¯re up for it. I can probably get even better deals if I offer up both of us making an appearance. You¡¯re still a fan favorite in a lot of places.¡±


    ¡°Works for me. Is Lin coming too?¡±


    ¡°She is. And she¡¯s leaving her chaperone behind.¡±


    ¡°Lucky you.¡± He gives me a sly grin.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m hoping to finally get back to at least lucky-adjacent again, anyway. Maybe. If she¡¯s feeling up for it. But at least we¡¯ll get more time with each other than the couple of hours in the evenings that we¡¯re getting now.¡±

 Sat 05/25 07:01:03 PDT

    I stretch my arms up, then put them down on the mat in front of me. A few more of the younger dorm dwellers are big enough to join the group today and they¡¯re straggling out onto the grass. We¡¯re up to sixty-three now. The ghostly outlines show the newcomers what to do, where to put each limb and when. I¡¯m always impressed that Andrea can handle all those projections, and the music, and lead the exercises all at once. She¡¯s almost as good with her cloud as I am with mine.


    She lays in front of everyone in her yoga gear, smiling as she brings her head up, then her feet behind. She curves her body so that her feet are almost touching the top of her head. I still can¡¯t do that one. I do finally get the double hand stand right today. I¡¯m feeling very proud of myself until Andrea shifts her weight and balances vertically supported on a single hand.


    Lin looks over at me and smiles. Her smiles are amazing. She can¡¯t even get close to the handstand, but the shape guiding her gives her a good substitute that works a lot of the same muscles. She looks fantastic in her skin-tight outfit. One of the upsides of my condition is that every day it¡¯s like seeing her for the first time again. Yang Song notices the way we¡¯re looking at each other and grumbles something in Chinese. Lin laughs softly. While she clearly doesn¡¯t approve of how close Lin and I have become, she tolerates the situation. Lin was afraid early on that she might murder me, but we¡¯re past that now. At least I think we are.


    A ghostly outline appears around me. I¡¯m out of sync and Andrea¡¯s getting me back in line. I lift my left leg higher behind me, balancing on my right foot with my arms stretched out in front of me. The outline disappears and Andrea gives me a smile and a nod. I keep my glances at Lin¡¯s gorgeous face limited enough that I stay synced up with the rest of the class.


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    When Andrea finishes and lets the music die down, Yang Song steps forward and starts leading the Tai Chi routine. The slow, fluid motion is refreshing after the pose and hold of Andrea¡¯s program. Yang Song doesn¡¯t instruct the way Andrea¡¯s ghost forms do, she just shows how it¡¯s done and everyone tries their best to follow along. A batch of the sibs and staff shuffle out of the group and others make their way in. Not everyone likes doing both exercise programs. I find the combination invigorating, and it¡¯s a very peaceful atmosphere to get through the ever-growing lower priority entries of my morning read.


    I walk close by Lin as we head back to the residence. I want to reach out and hold her hand, but I wait until we¡¯re alone in the upstairs hallway to do it. We try to keep the PDA minimal. Since I moved into the residence from the dorms, our rooms are just down the hall from each other¡¯s. She pauses for a second in front of her door. I dare to hope for a moment that she¡¯ll invite me into her room so we can do more than just hold hands, but instead she just gives me a peck on the cheek and another smile as she slips inside her door.


    Oh well. Maybe soon though. Her vitals are definitely still showing strong physical attraction when she¡¯s near me, and I¡¯m sure she¡¯s getting better on all the emotional and mental stuff, though I have no way of measuring any of that.


    I continue on to my room and hit the shower. I feel the hot water coursing down my body like I feel the whole campus and the kilometers of desert all around it. I know Jeff¡¯s not coming back, but I keep a vigilant eye on everything anyway, even if it¡¯s a little paranoid. I just hope my sibs can keep up as good a guard while I¡¯m away.

 Sat 05/25 09:16:41 PDT

    I wonder for a moment¡ªas I check the final draft of the Arizona Copper agreement and let my bot eyes read in the other three that I need to get done today¡ªwhat Cindy has been up to for the last few months. With the plane she runs for us sitting idle, she wouldn¡¯t have had any duties. Probably living well in Vegas, I¡¯d guess. Very well, given what we pay her. I hadn¡¯t thought when I redid the budgets that we¡¯d be in a situation any time soon when we didn¡¯t have at least a few of the heirs of the Butler legacy constantly traveling, but then the whole Jeff thing happened. Oh well. She¡¯s worth it.


    I¡¯m just glad that I¡¯ll get a chance to get away from the desk I¡¯ve been glued to for the last few months. Alternately dealing with the aftermath of our last trip, trying to figure out where Jeff went with our gear, failing to find out anything about Mr. Wu¡¯s super secret illuminati group, and working to keep the Butler Institute solvent has left me drained. This upcoming trip isn¡¯t exactly a vacation, but it¡¯s as close to it as I¡¯m likely to get any time soon.


    Lin knocks on the open door, interrupting several workflows with a welcome smile.


    ¡°Are you sure that you want me to set up in here?¡± she asks. ¡°You have three empty offices on this floor. I can take one of them.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± I stand up and walk over to her. ¡°Half the point of this was so that we can spend more time together.¡±


    She steps inside and closes the door behind her before pulling me in for a kiss.


    ¡°I do like the idea of more time together,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m just worried you¡¯ll get tired of me. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do if your infatuation diminished.¡±


    ¡°Never.¡± I don¡¯t remind her that with my condition I don¡¯t think I need to worry about building up the kind of small resentments that would make me get sick of anyone. I can only include so much in my daily read and there¡¯s no reason to jam in every annoyance. ¡°So, I¡¯m thinking that we could put your desk here.¡± I walk over to the section of the wall opposite to the grand whiteboard of Father¡¯s master plan. ¡°You still want one of those standing ones?¡±


    ¡°I do. I need to keep up this stunning figure.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°You¡¯ll always be beautiful to me. So we¡¯ll get whatever model of desk you want and get it installed here. I¡¯ll clear off these shelves there for whatever you want to store, and you can work here whenever you want. Whatever hours you want.¡±


    ¡°And I still get all the server racks we talked about for my new data center downstairs?¡±


    I laugh. She¡¯s a hardware junkie. It¡¯s so nice to have a girl who appreciates the power of a highly optimized compute cluster and an ocean of RAM. ¡°Of course. We already have those ordered.¡± I don¡¯t mention what a strain that request put on the Institute budget. I¡¯m making a big bet that the Geologists will get their first automine running and bringing in a pretty significant revenue stream before we run out of cash and have to start selling off the SynTech stock.


    Lin steps closer to me. ¡°Well then. I suppose I just have one more question. What exactly would my duties be in your office, Mr. Kimball?¡± She says it in a low, breathy voice as her pulse quickens and her pupils dilate.


    Her vitals are screaming attraction. It takes me a second to realize what she¡¯s doing. I think this was the plot to some romance movie, but I couldn¡¯t say which one. I flip through her index entry and see my working theory that most of her ideas about romance come from American cinema. She watches Hollywood movies obsessively whenever she has free time. I note what she¡¯s doing now as additional evidence for the hypothesis.


    ¡°Well, Ms. Liu,¡± I say, straightening up and trying to look as tall and handsome as whatever movie star she thinks I¡¯m supposed to be right now. ¡°You¡¯d need to be very hands on.¡± I take her hand and pull it to rest on the side of my waist. She smiles shyly and runs her fingertips down a few centimeters while her other hand reaches up to my chest. ¡°Maybe help me with my, uh, briefs.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡± She slips her fingers between the buttons of my shirt and starts caressing the skin beneath. ¡°I think I could be very, very hands on.¡± The top three buttons of my shirt are somehow undone in an instant and she¡¯s kissing my neck. Oh, sweet thanks to all the gods in the universe. We¡¯re finally making out again for the first time since China. My hands slip along her arms and down her sides to rest on the curves of her hips.


    Her fingers find the rest of the buttons of my shirt and as she pulls it off of me, I send a contingent of bots to lock the door. My fingers fumble with her blouse, opening it in front and exposing a lacy black bra beneath. Her kisses on my neck stop and she pulls her head back.


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    ¡°Noah, I¡­¡±


    I nuzzle into her neck and kiss her throat.


    ¡°Noah¡­¡±


    Her body suddenly tenses as her breath catches. Her dilated pupils suddenly revert to normal. Strange. None of that is consistent with attraction, and she definitely seemed very attracted just a few seconds ago.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s just¡­¡± She pulls back, her hands coming up to bring the two sides of her blouse together. ¡°I thought I could. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°What is it? I thought you wanted to¡­¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± she says. ¡°I mean, I do. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    She finishes buttoning her shirt and leans down to pick mine up from the floor. She hangs her head as she hands it to me. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you everything.¡±


    ¡°Whatever it is, we can work through it.¡±


    ¡°I know. We can. We will. I just¡­¡±


    We stand there in silence for three minutes and twenty-four seconds. What¡¯s going on with her? Her physiology is all over the place, heart rate going up, then down, then back up.


    ¡°My father,¡± she finally says, her voice barely audible. ¡°He didn¡¯t just hit me.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Everything starts falling into place. ¡°Shit. I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know. I concealed it from you, after you told me everything and you thought I had told you everything.¡±


    ¡°You just weren¡¯t ready to talk about it. It¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t feel bad about that. What can I do?¡±


    ¡°Just what you have been doing. Be patient with me. I want this. I do. I¡¯m just not ready. I¡¯ve been talking to your therapist.¡±


    ¡°Andrea?¡±


    ¡°Um. No. I meant Dr. Jimenez. The professional one with the office in the Residence. Andrea is just your therapist, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think she does it for anyone else. We know she¡¯s not a real shrink, but she¡¯s as close as I think I can get. I don¡¯t think that with my particular set of neurological conditions that a traditional one would do me a lot of good. And she has helped me get over a lot of stuff.¡±


    ¡°Well, Dr. Jimenez is very good too, and I¡¯ve been working with her for a few months. I thought that I was getting better, but when you pulled my shirt open, it was just¡­¡± She trails off, leaving it there.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to talk about it with me if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t ever want to talk about it with you. Not ever. Please don¡¯t take that the wrong way. I just don¡¯t want that to be a part of our life together at all. Besides, you already have too much to deal with right now. I wanted to make things better for you. Give you, well, me. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I feel an unwelcome presence moving quickly down the hallway toward the office. It¡¯s Yang Song. Dammit. Not now.


    ¡°Your bodyguard is coming.¡±


    Lin frantically fixes up her hair while I button up my shirt. My bots do a quick sweep of her makeup and the lipstick she¡¯s transferred to my skin. The office door rattles as she tries to open it. Three pounding knocks follow. I open the door.


    ¡°There you are!¡± Yang Song¡¯s strident voice fills the air as she pushes past me. ¡°I have been searching for you.¡±


    Lin glances at me. The vulnerability that had been all over her face a moment ago has been replaced with a cool mask of serenity. This isn¡¯t the first time she¡¯s hidden this pain from Yang Song. ¡°We were just finalizing the plans to set up my new office space in here.¡± She moves toward the wall. ¡°I¡¯m putting my desk right here. A standing desk, so I can make sure I get enough exercise while I work.¡±


    Yang Song responds with something that sounds derisive, but it¡¯s in Chinese so I have no idea if it actually is. The two of them start talking quickly in words that I don¡¯t think my disability will ever allow me to learn. I don¡¯t have any ear for it, can¡¯t parse what I hear into anything more than random-seeming sounds, and whatever learning a wet brain normally does to acquire a new language just doesn¡¯t happen for me. At least they don¡¯t sound like they¡¯re fighting this time.


    I shake my head and return to my desk to get back to finalizing my agreements while Lin continues to mollify her by showing her around the office and pointing out what I assume are changes she¡¯ll be making. I still don¡¯t really understand the dynamic between them. Lin doesn¡¯t need her as a translator or a bodyguard anymore, but she still seems to think that she needs to keep the older woman happy. Yang Song, on the other hand, acts more like the stern governess of a young child from an old novel than anything else I can think of.


    Did Yang Song know that Lin was being abused? I mean, she knew about the hitting, but the other? I watch the two of them for a minute. No. There¡¯s nothing in Lin¡¯s vitals that indicates the kind of smoldering anger she would have to feel if that was the case. I can only think that she didn¡¯t. She must have been Lin¡¯s shield whenever she was around. Maybe that¡¯s part of why Lin still needs her so much.


    Their voices seem to bounce off of each other and I swear from their body language that they must be arguing now. My index reminds me in bold letters of the several times I¡¯ve tried to get between them over the last few months and how none of them did me a speck of good.


    Just a few more days and Lin and I will be off on a trip without anyone more intrusive than Evan and Valerie for supervision. I just wish there was something I could do to help her.

 Wed 05/29 09:16:41 PDT

    "Come on," Lin says, "it''s almost time. The sooner we get through all your business stops, the sooner I get to meet your grandparents. Let''s get Evan and Valerie and go."


    I chuckle. I¡¯m glad she¡¯s so eager to meet the last two members of my family. ¡°Let me check with them and make sure they¡¯re ready.¡±


    To Evan: You two ready to go?


    From Evan: Sure, ready whenever. The car''s already loaded and everything. We were just waiting for you two.


    To Evan: Great, be there in a sec.


    ¡°Are you doing your nanobot telepathy thing?¡± Lin looks at me with interest. ¡°Or are you just sitting there and making me wait?¡±


    "The first one. They¡¯re ready. Let''s go."


    By the time we reach the front gates, a green midsize sedan is waiting for us. Valerie is in the driver''s seat and Evan is next to her. I open the door for Lin and she slides in and across, leaving room for me.


    "Hey, Noah, are you sure your grandparents won''t mind us all coming?" Valerie asks. ¡°We can still go with you for the mining stuff and have Cindy take us home. We really don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding? They¡¯ve been dying to meet all three of you. If they had their way, we¡¯d bring the whole campus up.¡±


    ¡°They could just come down to the Institute, couldn¡¯t they?¡± Lin asks.


    ¡°They could, but I asked them not to. I don¡¯t want to tie any more threads to them that Jeff or the illuminati or whatever could follow than I have to. It¡¯s bad enough I already had to make them move once so their address wouldn¡¯t be anywhere that anyone had listed."


    ¡°Illuminati? Is that what we¡¯re calling the bad guys now?¡± Valerie asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s as good a name as any, right?¡± Evan says. ¡°Since we still don¡¯t have any idea of who they really are.¡±


    The car arrives at our airstrip. We¡¯re a little early, and the ground crew is still doing their checks. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be ready soon. The boarding door is open and Cindy waves to us as we park and get out.


    ¡°Welcome back,¡± Cindy says cheerfully as we step inside the plane and get settled in the recliners. ¡°I was starting to worry you were going to put us out to pasture.¡±


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    ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± I tell her. ¡°We had some things to work out. I do expect that now we¡¯ll probably start flying regularly again if that makes you feel better.¡±


    ¡°So I hear. How¡¯s Eleanor doing these days?¡±


    Eleanor? A parade of potential Eleanors skims across my overlay. Right, Mrs. Hastings.


    ¡°Full recovery, thanks to Louise. She got a nasty scar out of the ordeal and is talking about an earlier retirement, but she was probably due for that anyway. Other than that, she¡¯s doing great.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good to hear. Give her my best next time you talk to her.¡±


    ¡°Will do, Cindy.¡±


    She bustles around, grabbing drinks for everyone and then popping into the cockpit.


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯re all set,¡± she declares when she returns. ¡°Please stow your little robots and anything else that might interfere with the flight systems.


    I put my bots into sleep mode. We all pull out our SynTech smartphones and put them in airplane mode. The plane hums and vibrates as I feel the acceleration pulling me into the cushy seat. In a moment we¡¯re in the air.


    ¡°So how did you end up getting Yang Song to agree to stay on campus?¡± Valerie asks Lin. ¡°I thought for sure she¡¯d insist on coming along to keep an eye on you.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she responds with her grin that signals endless mischief, ¡°she might be under the impression that we¡¯re actually leaving later this afternoon.¡±


    I don¡¯t think I knew about that, but my quick glance through my logs doesn¡¯t tell me how I thought we were getting out of here without Lin¡¯s bodyguard. ¡°You¡¯re trying to get her to kill me, aren¡¯t you?¡± I laugh.


    ¡°Sometimes I just need a little space,¡± she says. ¡°I appreciate that she¡¯s been almost like a mother to me, but she can be just a tad overprotective. Especially these last few months.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t blame her for that, though,¡± Valerie says. ¡°It has been a pretty big adjustment for both of you.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Lin sighs. ¡°And she means well. But I¡¯ve got Noah with me this week. I don¡¯t need any other protection.¡±


    I like that. I also like the look she gives me along with it.


    ¡°We¡¯ve reached our cruising altitude,¡± Cindy declares as she enters the main cabin again. ¡°Y¡¯all can get up and walk around if you like. We¡¯ll be landing in Santa Fe in about three hours. Can I bring you more drinks or snacks?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re good, thanks,¡± I reply.


    ¡°Just let me know if you need anything,¡± she says, retreating to wherever she disappears to on these flights.


    Lin gives me a significant look and glances back towards the plane¡¯s bedroom. I nod and we both get up. Evan is already napping. It¡¯s amazing how fast that big guy can do that. Valerie gives us a knowing smile as we slip off. I go to close the door behind us, but Lin puts a hand on it to leave it open.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she whispers. ¡°I know you want more. I do too. I¡¯m just not ready yet.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Whenever you¡¯re ready, I¡¯ll still be here, still crazy about you.¡±


    She smiles and leads me over to one of the beds. The remaining hours of the flight still go by fast.

 Fri 05/31 13:56:01 MDT

    ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, you only want rights to this list of mines? These mines that we¡¯ve already mined out?¡± The red-faced mine company owner puts a fat finger onto the relevant clause of the paperwork. ¡°This isn¡¯t some trick?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s exactly like we talked about on the phone,¡± I reassure him. ¡°We just want to glean the leavings as part of our research into new mineral extraction techniques. In return, we¡¯ll take on all the liability for the environmental cleanup, make sure that the sites are all up to code, and we¡¯ll feature you and your company in a series of Butler Institute ads that we¡¯ll run on TV and on the internet.¡±


    His thick lips turn up into a toothy smile. His environmental record has already stopped him from starting up two new projects and he knows as well as I do that most of the mining sites on the list in the contract haven¡¯t been following a whole bunch of the state¡¯s environmental regulations. It would cost him millions to close them all out properly. He thinks we¡¯re suckers. I put on my innocent sucker face and let him keep thinking it. Evan looks positively cherubic as he sits  next to me. The mine owning dirtbag doesn¡¯t need to know that in a decade he and everyone like him will be out of business permanently.


    ¡°Well, you drive a hard bargain, sir.¡± He picks up a pen that probably costs more than what any of his employees makes in a month. ¡°But I can¡¯t turn down a real do-gooder like you.¡±


    Once he scrawls his name on the line, I add mine below it. The notary stamps the document and the representatives from the Bureau of Land Management formally approves the whole thing. I think that last step isn¡¯t actually necessary, but Sheryl insisted it would make for good PR so we¡¯re doing it. We all step outside and get way too many pictures taken and start in on the interviews with the local news stations.


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    From Evan: That¡¯s the last of them, right?


    To Evan: Keep smiling, brother. There are like four more reporters that we have to talk to.


    From Evan: I mean the last of the signing ceremony things.


    To Evan: Yeah, this is the last one. With what we managed to get for free this week, we can nanomine enough precious metals to make up for all the extra money we¡¯ve had to spend this year and fund everything for at least another year on top of that.


    From Evan: Nice.


    The interviews drag through the afternoon. I wouldn¡¯t mind so much if the gross old mine owner didn¡¯t keep looking over at us like he¡¯d taken us for complete rubes. I hope the girls are having more fun exploring Cheyenne than we¡¯re having here. We stick to the script and everything goes smoothly enough. Finally, the questions end and the camera crews pack up their gear.


    ¡°What are you thinking for dinner?¡± I ask my brother.


    ¡°It¡¯s got to be steak, right? I mean, we¡¯re in Wyoming. They probably have the cows grazing right behind the restaurants.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. For sure. I think I actually saw a steakhouse with a cow out front on the way here.¡±


    ¡°Want to go check it out?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get our lady friends first. I think they might have other opinions than extra fresh cow. Did you see the text earlier about maybe getting some Thai food?¡±


    He sighs a big fake sigh. ¡°Fine. Deprive me of my ribeye.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about it. Did I tell you Gramps ran a barbecue restaurant for like thirty years? There¡¯s no way you¡¯re getting through this weekend without eating at least a quarter of a steer.¡±

 Sat 06/01 12:13:29 MDT

    I check the mirror in the plane''s bathroom after we land to make sure I don''t look too rumpled. I could just check with my bot senses, but sometimes the aesthetic doesn''t come through quite the same. Lin managed to survive our in-flight make-out session with just a little make-up repair required. Wait, no. That''s a hickey on her neck, just above the collarbone. I thought I¡¯d been careful not to leave any marks but I must have gotten carried away. It¡¯s visible above the neckline of her blouse.


    She looks at it in the mirror when I point it out to her and laughs. "You naughty scoundrel!" she declares in mock outrage.


    "I think I can fix things. May I?" I ask her.


    She peels the collar down to take a closer look at the purpling spot on her pale skin. "Yes, please. Don''t let my first meeting with your grandparents start with them thinking poorly of me."


    I focus my consciousness into my cloud. My million tiny fingers unravel the thread holding her top button in place, slide the button up a few centimeters, and seal up the old buttonhole so that without a very close inspection you''d never know it has ever been there. I stiffen the end of the thread with a rigid chain of bots and sew the button back on in its new place. Making a small slit for the new buttonhole, I twist and bind the tiny threads so it looks just like the old one. I open my eyes and button her blouse back up, the hickey now neatly concealed.


    "Oh. I thought you were going to magically make it go away. This is an acceptable alternative, I suppose.¡± She scrutinized the alteration. ¡°This is extraordinary work. I should have you do all of my tailoring."


    "Sorry, I¡¯m not much of an expert with our family¡¯s special medical capabilities. You¡¯d have to ask Louise if you want anything more fancy than stitching up a cut. I can do the tailoring if you want," I reply, half-serious. "Trying to replicate natural textiles is a pain though, so I might need you to switch to synthetics. Maybe plastic or latex, those would be easy."


    "Sounds like a kink. Or a kinky? Which word is it? I know it¡¯s one of those two."


    She rarely needs help with her English these days, but I guess that''s a newer part of her vocabulary. "I''d say ''sounds kinky.'' That''s probably the most natural way to say it. And I was just thinking practically, but now you have my mind going in all sorts of new directions."


    "Good," she says, running her hand down my back and planting it firmly on my backside.


    It feels nice. I log the contact into my index. She¡¯s been getting more physical over the course of this trip, I think mostly because she hasn¡¯t had Yang Song constantly hovering near her. My current movie theory of Lin and romance has her firmly planted in the land of the PG-13, but maybe one day she¡¯ll be ready to make it to R. She likes to get my shirt off, and has managed to put her hands on the majority of my biological body, but still hasn¡¯t let me do any of the same back to her.


    It¡¯s fine. We can take it as slow as she needs. While a big part of me is dying to jump into a fully sexual relationship with her, there¡¯s a part of me, one that I think Mom would be proud of, that¡¯s mature enough to realize that I might not be qualified to make good moral judgments or recognize consent cues with my mind the way it is. Especially since Lin seems to have a very hard time verbalizing what she is and isn¡¯t OK with. My biggest fear in life right now is ruining things by moving faster than Lin is ready for.


    I need to make more progress on my synthetic conscience before I screw anything up too badly. So far all I have are warnings that pop up when my log and vitals indicate that I¡¯m about to kill someone. It was hard enough to parse out intent from natural language and chemical levels even with Evan¡¯s help, so I haven¡¯t been able to do much more than that yet. While preventing extraneous murders is important, I know I still have a long way to go for the rest of it. I would prefer if my biochemical lack of remorse didn¡¯t turn me into a complete psychopath.


    Lin gives my buttock a squeeze and me a naughty smirk, then goes back to finessing her hair, making sure all the short spiky strands look just so. I really should get her involved in building out my replacement for biological morality. She knows enough about the implant interface and my custom database and indexing software by now, and who could be better than her for determining what my limits should be for non-murdery things?


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    "Come on, you two," Evan calls out from near the boarding door. "I''m getting hungry."


    Later then. I put a note in my electronic brain to ask for her help when we get back home.


    "We''re coming," I call back. "Just give me a second to get this girl''s hands off of me."


    Lin blushes and gives me a playful shove. We catch up to Evan and Valerie just before they reach the car. Despite his protests that he wants to sit with Valerie, we make Evan take shotgun up by the driver. With three of us going in the back, there''s no way that one of those can be Evan. His massive and muscular frame would take up at least half the space. I take the middle seat, which I don¡¯t mind at all. Valerie has basically become another one of my sisters, so I''m sandwiched between two of my favorite girls in the world.


    The driver has the address, and as we drive I hope that my grandparents like their new place. Hopefully it¡¯s as nice as Alan said it was when I sent him up to buy it for them. They¡¯ve told me that they like it whenever I¡¯ve talked to them since then, but according to my index, sometimes they say that they like things just to be nice.


    When we arrive, the place looks good. The gated community is surrounded by high stone walls, with the words Highland Estates in big metal letters near the entrance. The security booth at the entrance is manned by a couple of armed rent-a-cops. They get Gramps on the phone before they let us through. That¡¯s good. I wanted security that wasn¡¯t a joke. Part of me knows that it won¡¯t do a thing against Jeff or the illuminati if they find them, but it makes me feel better anyway.


    I extend my bots around the neighborhood, pushing them a little more intrusively than I normally would. The houses here are big. They probably qualify as mansions. I¡¯m not sure what the cutoff is for that. The ornate decor in most of them tells me that their neighbors are more than comfortably well off. Hopefully my very middle-class grandparents are fitting in well enough.


    A couple of turns later, the car pulls into a driveway. The driver gets a couple of the bags and Evan and I grab the rest. He deposits the luggage on the porch and returns to the vehicle, driving off before I can even offer a tip. Alan must have arranged that. I don¡¯t need to check the house number; I can recognize the smell of Gramps¡¯s cooking already. I¡¯m about to knock when Grammy opens the door.


    ¡°Noah!¡± she exclaims, rushing out and enveloping me in a huge hug.


    ¡°And you must be Evan,¡± Gramps declares as he ambles along behind her. He extends a hand, but Evan goes in for a hug too. Soon, everyone¡¯s been embraced and introduced.


    ¡°You boys have found some real lookers,¡± Gramps says. ¡°Are you girls sure you want to be sticking around with fellas like these two?¡±


    ¡°I happen to be very good looking,¡± I declare. ¡°It only took Lin and I a few months of writing letters to each other after I met her before she wanted to see my face again.¡±


    Gramps laughs and ushers us in. It seems like a nice place. Much bigger than their old house. Gramps¡¯ war medals and Grammy¡¯s knicknacks sit on the shelves of their new living room. Grammy bustles around, showing everyone where they¡¯ll be sleeping. The four guest rooms they have now are a pretty good upgrade from the couch in the den that I crashed on at their old place.


    Gramps pulls me aside.


    ¡°You look good, Noah,¡± he says, his eyes meeting mine. ¡°Last time you were here I was worried about you. I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve worked through things. Losing two parents in the same year isn¡¯t something everyone bounces back from, but I can see that some of the old you is back now. I¡¯m proud of you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Gramps,¡± I tell him. ¡°It was a tough time, but I¡¯m doing better. There¡¯s still a lot I worry about though. How about you two? Is everything all right with you here? Is the house OK?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t need to add us to your list of worries,¡± he replies. ¡°We miss the old place, but you¡¯ve set us up with nicer digs than I ever thought I¡¯d live in. We¡¯re happy to stay here if that puts your mind at ease. They even have a nice seniors group here that we¡¯re getting along with. They were a little cool at first¡ªwe¡¯re not exactly the typical residents. But we threw a party and that seemed to go over well. I made some of my famous barbecue and then Grammy got a bunch of the ladies hooked on crochet and mahjong. We¡¯ve been minor celebrities since.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡±


    ¡°Best wash up for lunch now.¡±


    I take a few steps towards the bathroom that Grammy had shown on her tour of the place, then feel something off on the edge of my bot senses. It¡¯s somewhere near the outer wall of the gated community. Pinpricks start biting into my cloud as something starts shredding my bots. I pull the periphery of my cloud back and form eyes looking out toward the disturbance. What I see looks like a vortex of pure destruction, a cyclone of concussive force ripping through everything in its path, coming straight towards the house.

 Sat 06/01 12:37:01 MDT

    The vortex rips through the thick reinforced concrete wall that surrounds the neighborhood like it was tissue paper. Before I can react at all, it shreds its way right through the first house in its path, barely slowing as it makes a bus-sized hole through stone, wood, and brick. It¡¯s moving fast, and it¡¯s coming this way. We only have a minute or two before it arrives.


    ¡°Panic room!¡± I shout to my family gathering down the hall in the dining room. ¡°Now!¡±


    Gramps reacts with reflexes that would have done a much younger man proud. He grips Grammy¡¯s hand and leads her and the girls down the hallway at a sprint. Alan had looked at me like I was crazy when I required this feature in the house he picked for them. I know that even several centimeters of vault-grade steel won¡¯t stop what¡¯s coming, but it will slow it enough that I have a chance to deal with the situation without needing to divert my attention to keep them safe.


    I feel Evan on the outside of the panic room door, his bots pulled in thick around him. I bolt in his direction and send him a quick message across our link asking for cover. I get to him just before the wave of destruction crashes through the wall of the house. I ignore the cutting edge of the cyclone, trusting Evan to keep a shield up that will keep the shrapnel suddenly flying through the air from ripping us apart.


    I focus on finding the control signal guiding the thing. My bot vision¡¯s overlay shows a chain of bots maintaining a mesh network leading back the way the vortex had come from. In less time than it would have taken me to blink, my electronic mind calculates the amount of the chain I need to take out to disrupt the network.


    With surgical precision, I take out the bots along the chain, ignoring the barrage of metal that Evan is keeping just centimeters from my skin. I hit the threshold that my implant calculated, expecting the assault to stop as the control signal disappears, but the cyclone continues unabated. The drywall covering the steel of the panic room walls strips away, revealing bare metal. I hear creaking as the roof above us threatens to collapse. I continue snipping back the chain of bots leading off towards the outer wall of the community. The gap is several times the distance that the bots could maintain their connection.


    How is that thing still getting a signal?


    I scan through alternate frequencies, check every possible way the bots might be communicating back to their owner.


    Then I realize. These nanobots aren¡¯t getting a signal anymore. The vortex of chaos isn¡¯t following the rules of bots as I know them. Absent the control signal, the bots should have collapsed into inaction and begun the countdown to self-lobotomy. Jeff, and it could only be Jeff, has violated the fundamental rules laid out in the Butler Treaty. This swirling embodiment of Jeff¡¯s rage has a mind of its own and is running without any human holding its leash anymore.


    ¡°I¡¯m down by half, brother,¡± Evan cries out. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re doing, do it fast!¡±


    I look closer at the swirling vortex, enabling every overlay the implant can provide, trying to wrap my mind around the patterns of the moving parts. The whipping edges are moving too fast, there is no way I can target them. How did he get them going at those speeds? It¡¯s way beyond the maximum velocity that I could push my bots to. There. A vertical series of clusters near the center connect the whipping outer edges with flexible chains a single bot thick. Thinking it through, the cyclone is like a stack of spinning wagon wheels, the wires forming the spokes of each wheel. The frenzied scouring of the outer edge is enabled by the momentum of the bots whipping around in circles, accelerating all the way around at every point along the spoke. The force of the bots pushing near the center allow the ones at the rim to reach tremendous velocities.


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    How to deal with that?


    With the control signal disconnected, the processing power those clusters have available to adapt to disruptions has got to be very limited. They should only have the computing resources that the simple onboard processors of the bots provide. They¡¯re fast and dangerous, but they¡¯ve got to be dumb.


    I slide in tendrils of bots from below the body of the cyclone, perpendicular to the cutting edges. Targeting one of the clusters, I push on it, applying asymmetrical pressure. I feel the pinpricks of my bots nearest the cluster being destroyed by the whipping bot wires, but I get the wobble that I need. The torque causes the microscopic wires made of bots to entangle with the wires of the wheel above it, slowing the rotation of both. That gives me an opening. I jam as many bots into the cluster as I can and twist hard, turning the lowest flexible wheel into a full collision with the rest of the stack.


    If Jeff had still been in control of the thing, he could have easily made adjustments, breaking and reforming the wires as needed, but the AI of the bots is on its own and lacks any imagination or instincts to cope with the disruption. The frenzied beating on Evan¡¯s shield subsides as the cyclone destabilizes. I slice up and through the core of the and sever the links holding together each spoke. The bots that had formed the vortex scatter, whipping through the remains of the house. They burrow into the remnants of the walls, floors, and ceiling wherever they land.


    Evan breathes out heavily and wipes the flowing sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He looks like he¡¯s just run a marathon. ¡°That was too close, Noah. What the hell was that thing?¡±


    ¡°Something Jeff thought up.¡± I step forward toward the space in the wall where the core of the metal tornado had ripped through. ¡°I imagine he had plenty of time to come up with designs while he was locked up, and he¡¯s obviously had enough time to code them since he got out.¡±


    I survey the wreckage. The overlays are all still enabled, so my field of vision is clouded with swarms of numbers and colors. Oddly, the scattered bots embedded around the place still haven¡¯t shut down. I walk over to one of the walls and take a closer look. A chill breeze makes the hair on my arms stand up.


    The bots in the wall start to replicate.


    Shit.


    Shit, shit, shit!


    Jeff has disabled all the safeguards. Those things are breaking the most fundamental rule of nanobot safety: never let them grow on their own. That kind of thing could result in an exponentially growing mass that could never be stopped until it consumed the entire world. It¡¯s exactly the kind of thing that had most terrified Jeff and everyone else who understands the technology.


    ¡°Clean up, now! They¡¯re growing!¡± I call to Evan.


    I start replicating my own cloud, working to both starve Jeff¡¯s rogue bots of materials and energy and to make sure that my cloud continues to overwhelmingly outnumber them. I focus the rest of my bots on finding and destroying every single remnant of Jeff¡¯s assault. Evan does the same. I desperately want to rush off after Jeff. He couldn¡¯t be more than a few kilometers from here. This is the only chance I¡¯ve had since the attack on campus to find him. But the possibility of a Gray Goo event isn¡¯t something I can ignore or defer. I scrub and destroy, check and double check, making sure that not a single bot is left loose.


    Finally, half an hour and one completely destroyed house later, we get the last growing clump of Jeff¡¯s bots cleared out and destroyed.

 Sat 06/01 13:56:27 MDT

    The panic room is completely buried in rubble and debris. I shiver. The freezing air around me has been robbed of every bit of heat that the bots could extract as both my bots and Jeff¡¯s stragglers had tried to grow as fast as they could. In the distance, sirens wail as firemen, police, and paramedics start to swarm over the dozens of destroyed houses along the path of the vortex. Fortunately, it looks like we¡¯re at the far end of their search, which gives us some time to work. I don¡¯t know how long Jeff planned this attack, or how long it will take him to strike again, but I don¡¯t want to stick around to find out. Not with my grandparents, Lin, and Valerie around. Trying to attract as little attention as possible, Evan and I use our bots to clear a path through the wreckage of the house to the steel vault door of the panic room.


    I give the massive door a knock. I¡¯m not sure if they can hear me.


    ¡°Come on out, we¡¯re clear,¡± I say, hopefully loudly enough to be heard through the thick metal.


    The heavy door clacks as it unlatches, then swings open slowly. Gramps looks around before letting any of the women out behind him. He¡¯s old fashioned like that. They all look around at the devastation that used to be the house. Grammy looks horrified, Gramps looks shocked, Lin and Valerie take it in stride.


    ¡°What did you do to our house?¡± Grammy exclaims, wandering into the rubble. ¡°We just got it the way we liked it!¡± She wanders around the remains of her living room until she stops in front of a broken shelf half-hanging from one wall. Small piles of broken figurines lay scattered around the floor near it. ¡°Oh! My Hummels! They¡¯re all gone!¡±


    Gramps seems to be recovering more quickly. According to my index, he¡¯s a veteran, so this might not be the first time he¡¯s seen destruction like this.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t us, Grammy,¡± I tell her. ¡°It was Jeff. The one that killed my father and tried to kill Mrs. Hastings.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Evan replies. ¡°And it looks like he''s learned how to play with his old toys again.¡±


    He fills them all in on what happened.


    ¡°Well, I hope you sprung for a good insurance policy when you bought the place, Noah,¡± Gramps declares, his composure regained.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure we did. I¡¯d have to ask Alan for the details,¡± I answer, ¡°but right now that¡¯s the least of our concerns. Come on, let¡¯s get you all back to the Butler Institute. I don¡¯t think anywhere else on Earth is safe other than there right now.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave,¡± Grammy protests. ¡°What about all of our things?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re just things, Helen.¡± Gramps puts an arm around her comfortingly. ¡°At least we¡¯re safe and we still have Noah.¡±


    ¡°And what about our neighbors?¡± She looks out through the giant hole in the house to the rest of the destruction. ¡°You can help fix all this, right? With your little robots?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but that¡¯s not a good idea, and we¡¯re not safe right now.¡± I reply. ¡°He¡¯s after us, not your neighbors. Staying here just paints a target on the whole place.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not worried Jeff will just let loose again once we¡¯re gone?¡± Valerie asks.


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    ¡°Not if we¡¯re not around anymore.¡± I shake my head. ¡°If we leave, he won¡¯t have any reason to do anything else here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been trying to track him down for months, Noah,¡± Lin says. ¡°Do you want to go after him now? We¡¯ll be OK.¡±


    ¡°No point,¡± I say. ¡°Jeff¡¯s both paranoid and smart. He thinks things through. He wouldn¡¯t have put an attack like this into motion without a way to go to ground afterwards in case it failed. And that trick at the end of letting the bots run wild gave him plenty of time to make good on whatever his escape plan was. Plus, it looks like the authorities want a word.¡± I turn to my grandparents. ¡°Just tell them anything you saw for yourself and we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°But we didn¡¯t see anything!¡± Grammy protests.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    A couple of uniformed police officers are making their way carefully through the path of destruction.


    To Evan: We don¡¯t know anything. Looked like a tornado to us. The others made it to the shelter after it hit the wall, but we were too far away. We got outside and saw it die out after it wrecked the house.


    From Evan: Got it.


    The two very polite police officers, one tall with dark hair, the other stockier and blond, introduce themselves and pull us aside one by one to take our statements. From the stack of papers they''re holding, it looks like they¡¯ve been doing this all across the wrecked part of the neighborhood. They give Gramps a card with their number and tell us all to call if we find out anything new. From the biometric readings of my polygraph function, they seem willing enough to buy the tornado story.


    They don''t seem to have recognized Evan or me from our many TV appearances. Hopefully, no one associates Evan¡¯s last name with the Tom Butler family until after we¡¯ve gotten safely out of state. When I moved Grammy and Gramps here, I asked them to keep quiet about their connection to us. Hopefully they did that. With luck, the shell company that Alan used to buy the house will get to claim insurance and recoup the costs. Not that any of that really matters right now.


    The interviews over, one of the officers politely asks if we have a place we can go for tonight. We assure him that it would be no trouble for my grandparents to stay at my house tonight, not mentioning that my house is a walled desert compound a few states away. They seem satisfied and leave, walking back along the cyclone¡¯s path.


    The car in the garage is as wrecked as the house, and we aren¡¯t scheduled for pickup until tomorrow, so we call a couple of cabs to take us back to the airport. While we wait for them, I call Cindy to make the arrangements for our early flight back. Grammy still looks distraught to be leaving everything behind, but I reassure her that we¡¯ll hire a crew to get everything that can be salvaged. Once our automines start producing I might need to allocate some funds to let her replace some of her collectables.


    The taxis finally arrive. At Lin¡¯s insistence, Evan and Valerie get in one car with the little luggage we were able to salvage, and Lin takes the back seat with Grammy and Gramps in the other. The ride is uncomfortably silent for several minutes until Lin speaks.


    ¡°So, Noah told me that he grew up right near you,¡± she begins tentatively.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Gramps says. ¡°We lived just a few miles away. Got to see this boy grow up since he was a baby.¡±


    Lin¡¯s face lights up, which gets Grammy smiling too.


    ¡°You must have so many anecdotes to tell about him. Please, tell me what he was like when he was young.¡±


    ¡°Anecdotes, eh?¡± Gramps chuckles at Lin¡¯s word choice. ¡°I suppose we do have a few of those. We might also have some stories and maybe a tale or two.¡±


    Lin laughs and my grandparents relax as they begin to dish out every embarrassing secret they know about my early childhood, which I think is just about all of them. I listen carefully and index the stories as they tell them. Some come back to me as I hear them. Some, I can¡¯t remember or believe. Like the story that one time when I was two, I ate dog poop because I thought it was chocolate. I¡¯m tempted to object and say I find that story hard to swallow, but the pun is just too terrible.


    With the tension released, Lin and my grandparents laugh most of the rest of the way back to the plane. It¡¯s so good to hear her laugh like that. I think she might finally be back to where she was before the whole thing with her Father. She reminds me that even with the worst things happening, there¡¯s still good in the world. I love her so much.

 Sat 06/01 19:20:49 PDT

    To Evan: We need to figure out how he managed to get a new implant. Even with all the research equipment he stole, he¡¯d need help to do the installation. No way he could have done it on himself. There¡¯s a pretty short list of people that could have pulled that off. I bet Louise could name them all off the top of her head.


    From Evan: We¡¯ll have time for that later. Just get your grandparents settled for tonight. They need your attention more than Jeff does right now.


    ¡°Nice place you got here, Noah,¡± Gramps declares as he steps through the gate and onto the grass of the commons.


    ¡°Thanks. It took me a while to feel that way, but now I think so too.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll just be here for a few days,¡± Grammy says. ¡°We don¡¯t want to be a bother.¡±


    ¡°Please, you¡¯re not a bother,¡± I reassure her. ¡°Besides, until we get Jeff handled, I need to know that you¡¯re safe. There¡¯s nowhere else but here that I can make sure of that right now.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll see,¡± Grammy says. From her vitals I can tell that she¡¯s very uncomfortable. I hope I can make her feel at home enough that she¡¯ll agree to stay, at least until we can hunt down Jeff and stop the illuminati and anyone else who might try to use them to get to me.


    So I guess forever.


    I show them around the Residence, and offer them one of the empty rooms on the same hallway where I live. They seem happy enough with it. Over in the cafeteria, Gramps takes special interest in the kitchen. My index entry for him reminds me that he ran a restaurant for most of his life. I suspect that I wouldn¡¯t be able to keep him from getting involved in our food service even if I wanted to.


    ¡°If we¡¯re going to be here for a while, you think I could get a barbecue pit installed?¡± he asks. ¡°I¡¯ve been using one of those little smoker boxes since you moved us, but I¡¯d like to get back to doing things the right way.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do you one better and build you one myself,¡± I answer, happy to do anything to make their transition easier. ¡°Just show me a design.¡±


    ¡°Want to put in a bowling alley while you¡¯re at it?¡± Grammy asks jokingly.


    That¡¯s actually not a bad idea, I think the sibs would like it too.


    ¡°You got it, Grammy,¡± I tell her.


    She laughs. She has no idea that I¡¯m serious.


    ¡°No, really,¡± I tell her. ¡°Come on. We don¡¯t have room inside the walls, but I can put it out front. I can¡¯t do wooden lanes with my bot cloud though. Are synthetic all right?¡±


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    Grammy laughs harder as she realizes that I¡¯m not kidding.


    ¡°Really, it¡¯s no trouble,¡± I tell her, leading her to the front gate. ¡°I¡¯ll have to look up specifications for the lanes and machinery, no one on the development team thought to code up a bowling alley. But I can get the building up for you at least, and then you can figure out how you want it designed inside.¡±


    I pull in a big chunk of my cloud, careful to leave plenty of bots ranging out in the desert to keep watch and supplement our security system. I trace out a large area of the desert ground just outside the campus wall near the gate, making my best guess at how big it would need to be for several lanes and then adding a bunch of extra room because I¡¯d rather it be too big than too small. I trigger the construction routines for a foundation, then walls and a high ceiling. I run some wires, connecting the wiring that the construction library provides in its walls to the campus¡¯s closed power grid. I put some solar panels on the roof to offset the power usage of the new building and install some lights inside. Forming a big set of double doors in the front, I lead my flabbergasted grandmother to the threshold and show her the inside.


    ¡°That¡¯s a neat trick, Noah,¡± Gramps declares, trying with some success to sound nonchalant.


    ¡°Thanks, you should see when we build really big stuff.¡±


    Gramps nods, taking it in stride. Grammy is still too stunned to speak. I forget how weird this must be for people that aren¡¯t used to seeing it.


    Several of the younger kids that were playing in the commons have noticed the new building peeking over the wall. Three of the little boys come to the campus gate to investigate. Facial recognition kicks in, letting me fake like I can remember their names.


    ¡°Grammy and Gramps, meet Billy, Peter, and Sam. Boys, these are my grandparents. They¡¯re going to stay here with us for a while.¡±


    ¡°You have grandparents?¡± Billy asks, his eyes going wide. ¡°I thought those were just in stories!¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re real alright,¡± Gramps chuckles.


    ¡°Wow!¡± Peter exclaims. ¡°Can I have grandparents?¡±


    ¡°Me too!¡± Billy and Sam declare.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Grammy answers, finally getting over her shock. ¡°We always wanted more grandchildren. Consider yourselves our honorary grandbabies.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not babies,¡± Billy corrects them. ¡°We¡¯re almost big enough to go live in the dorms. We barely need nannies anymore.¡±


    ¡°I still need my nanny,¡± Sam says.


    Grammy smiles a puzzled smile, not sure what to make of the responses, but she kneels down and pulls the three of them in for a big grandmotherly hug. They seem to love it. When she releases them, they all sprint back through the gates.


    ¡°Hey everybody!¡± they shout as they run into the gathering crowd of small siblings. ¡°We have grandparents now!¡±


    ¡°I hope you know what you just signed us up for, Helen,¡± Gramps says, eyeing the approaching mob of Butler children.


    ¡°Of course I do, Frank,¡± Grammy says, her confidence returning. ¡°It¡¯ll be just like when I ran the nursery at church. Noah, maybe we could stay here for a little while, if you think we need to.¡±


    I smile and nod.


    ¡°Now, come here all you darlings,¡± she says, turning back to the children. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a bowling alley here. Have you ever tried bowling? Let me show you where we¡¯ll have the lanes.¡±


    She leads them like the pied piper, spinning stories of the fun they¡¯ll have together and giving out hugs. Nannies follow along behind, keeping an eye on their charges and making sure that Grammy doesn¡¯t get overrun.


    So it looks like they''re everyone¡¯s grandparents now. That¡¯s alright, I guess. I can share.

 Sun 06/02 09:12:08 PDT

    From Evan: Come on man, we¡¯re waiting for you. Get in here.


    The conference room next to my office has become our unofficial war room. Louise, Evan, and Valerie are all seated at the small round table when Lin and I arrive. As usual, Andrea and Marc have opted out. Marc¡¯s not opposed to helping track Jeff down, but he says that taking care of the kids is more important for him right now. I can¡¯t blame him for that, especially with Mrs. Hastings still recovering and needing a lot of help. Andrea is trying to be Switzerland, as if there were actually some way to be neutral about all of this.


    ¡°So you¡¯re sure Jeff had an implant?¡± Louise asks Evan.


    ¡°Definitely,¡± I answer for him, taking my seat. ¡°There was a live control signal along a chained mesh network leading away from the site of the attack. When I first saw the cyclone of death¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cyclone of death?¡± Louise interrupts.


    ¡°Sorry, context,¡± I say, realizing she hasn¡¯t been clued in on all of the details. ¡°The attack was a spinning construction made of bots reinforced with other materials. Let me sketch it out for you.¡±


    I hit the whiteboard and diagram out Jeff¡¯s monstrosity, labeling and explaining its core, spokes, and spinning edges.


    ¡°OK. Cyclone of death, got it,¡± Louise says, nodding.


    ¡°So the cyclone of death was showing adaptive behaviors when I first saw it. It changed course, moved around, and had some eyes networked with it. It realigned itself every time after it hit anything with any significant mass. I¡¯m pretty sure Jeff was actively controlling it at that point. When I cut off the chain of bots networking Jeff to it, it stopped adapting. That¡¯s the only way I think I could have taken it out before it leveled the whole area.¡±


    ¡°OK, so he¡¯s got an implant then,¡± Louise says. ¡°This isn¡¯t good.¡±


    ¡°You think maybe?¡± Evan says, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ¡°Yeah, maybe it¡¯s not great that our insane brother who hates us has access to the most powerful technology on the planet.¡±


    ¡°No, not just that,¡± Louise protests. ¡°I mean, yes, that¡¯s all really bad, but it gets worse. There¡¯s no way he got that thing installed by standard means. The research he stole didn¡¯t include any of the plans for the first two generations of the implant, and the only way to install the gen three implants is with another implant, either one of the gen threes like we have or an earlier version like Father used. There are no manual controls for getting the medical bots into place in the brain without an implant. Even if you rigged something up to control them using another device like one of the VR controllers we licensed to the Brazilians, it takes millions of them to get a functional implant and it would take forever to get it done that way.¡±


    "Are you sure?" Evan asks. "Because it sure looks like he had an implant running."


    "Yes, I''m sure. Not even me or Max could do it without my implant."


    If Max can¡¯t do it, that makes the list of people that could install the implant even smaller than I thought. Actually, down to just Louise. And I know it wasn¡¯t Louise.


    ¡°So what do we not know about that we should? How did he get the implant installed?¡± I ask, getting nervous.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to like it,¡± Louise says, her eyes downcast.


    ¡°What did you do, Louise?¡± Evan demands.


    ¡°You remember when we were doing the installs and calibrations on all the Geologists? How it took both of us all day every day for months?¡±


    ¡°I remember that,¡± Evan answers, ¡°Yeah, that was a lot of work.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Louise says, still hanging her head. ¡°I was thinking that it would be really nice to not have to do that on the next class.¡±


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    ¡°You automated it,¡± I say, realization dawning.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t done with it! And I wasn¡¯t sure it could even work.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say something?¡± Evan asks. I feel his pulse quickening ¡°If you knew that there was a chance he could have a working implant, why didn¡¯t you tell us?¡±


    Louise hesitates, like she¡¯s afraid to answer.


    ¡°Because there¡¯s no way she could do it without violating the Butler Treaty laws,¡± I interject. Louise nods in confirmation.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t think that I know what those are,¡± Lin says. ¡°You have special laws just for your family?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the set of international laws restricting AI and nanotech,¡± I explain. ¡°They¡¯re named after our father, who made sure the treaty got passed all around the world. One of the important rules says that you can¡¯t have nanotech connected with adaptive or learning AI systems. It creates a risk of a self-directed, thinking swarm or a Gray Goo event. To automate the implant calibrations, the system would have to be adaptive by definition. It has to adapt to the individual neural signature of the person getting it installed. The brain is way too complicated to just brute force a solution.¡±


    Louise nods again, looking miserable.


    ¡°Well, congratulations Louise,¡± Evan says, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. ¡°Looks like you succeeded. Or at least got it close enough that Jeff could finish the job.¡±


    Valerie puts her hand on Evan¡¯s shoulder, trying to calm him. He shrugs it off and continues.


    ¡°You put us in danger, all of us. You put innocent bystanders in danger. You could have gotten Valerie killed today, or Lin, or Noah¡¯s grandparents! All because you didn¡¯t like putting in some work? Are you kidding me? What were you thinking?¡±


    He stands up, his massive figure looming over the table. His voice is so hot with anger now that everyone but Louise flinches back. Louise just looks at him, her face full of guilt. Her mouth opens, but no words come out.


    ¡°You broke the only laws in the world that really matter!¡± Evan thunders on. ¡°The ones that stop the whole planet from getting slagged into a writhing mass of nanobot goo. What the hell were you thinking! Why would you do that? And why the hell didn¡¯t you tell us about it?¡±


    With that, Louise breaks down. Tears stream down her face as she flees from the room. Evan stands there, shaking with anger in front of her empty chair. He¡¯s usually so calm and easygoing. It¡¯s terrifying to see him like this.


    ¡°Evan,¡± Valerie starts, ¡°I¡ª¡±


    He puts a hand up, stopping her. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. And another. And another. Finally he puts his hand down. His racing pulse is starting to drop, he¡¯s calming down.


    ¡°Evan,¡± Valerie says slowly. ¡°I know you¡¯re mad. But the last thing we need now is to be divided.¡±


    He nods, regaining his composure. He sits back down.


    ¡°You know it¡¯s not her that you¡¯re mad at, right?¡± she asks him.


    She¡¯s right. Louise should have been more careful, or better yet not done it at all, but Evan¡¯s reaction doesn¡¯t make sense. I can¡¯t tell if his real anger is directed at Jeff, for letting wild bot swarms loose and putting the ones he loves at risk, or at me, for causing the whole Jeff situation in the first place. If it¡¯s me he¡¯s not showing it right now, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯d have to deal with it later. Hopefully it¡¯s Jeff.


    ¡°I know,¡± he says, his countenance changing from anger to shame. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°You want to go apologize now, or later?¡± Valerie asks him.


    ¡°Give me a minute,¡± he says, taking a few more deep breaths.


    ¡°Take a minute then, but you need to go talk to her,¡± Valerie says, standing up from her chair. ¡°You don¡¯t get to treat your sister that way. Not if you still want to be with me. I don¡¯t care what she did. That¡¯s not OK.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he repeats. He hangs his head. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one you need to say that to,¡± Valerie says over her shoulder as she leaves the room too.


    ¡°I know,¡± he says again. He gets back to his feet, chastened, and starts heading out.


    ¡°Louise is in her room,¡± I tell him as he goes. ¡°Give her ten minutes or so before you try to talk to her. She¡¯s got something in progress that she won¡¯t want you there for.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he says as he hits the door.


    My bots normally avoid bedrooms or other places where people have expectations of privacy, but I wanted to keep an eye on Louise after she left. She¡¯s currently taking a scalpel to her forearm, adding another scar to the long row of them starting at her wrist. She¡¯ll heal it with the medical bots. She knows what she¡¯s doing and she¡¯s not suicidal. It¡¯s how she deals with emotional pain, like after we killed Father. As far as I¡¯m aware, I¡¯m the only one she¡¯s ever talked to about it.


    I wonder how Evan deals with the pain. He always seemed so confident that killing Father was right and that he had nothing to feel bad about. But Jeff is a different story. He didn¡¯t deserve what we did to him. He was just a convenient means to an end we all wanted. I¡¯m sure part of Evan¡¯s rage and shame is the baggage he¡¯s still carrying over that.


    Too bad he hasn¡¯t rewired his brain like I did. At moments like this I don¡¯t miss my sense of guilt at all. I just feel bad that he¡¯s having such a tough time coping.


    Mom, help me to help my brother. He needs me.

 Sat 06/02 13:40:59 PDT

    To Louise: You doing alright?


    I skim through the latest edition of Experimental Neurology, adding the contents to my index and adding cross-references. As I expected, nothing in the current research looks even a little bit applicable to finding a fix for my broken mind. Louise is usually quick to respond on our mind-to-mind message link. I didn¡¯t listen in on her talk with Evan, but she skipped lunch and cut herself again twice since they talked. She still hasn¡¯t left her room.


    To Louise: Come on sister, what can I do to help?


    From Louise: I¡¯m fine.


    To Louise: You¡¯re definitely not fine.


    From Louise: I know. But I don¡¯t want to talk about it now.


    I finish reading through the latest reports from the SynTech dev team. The automine support code they were working on is coming along on schedule. At least that¡¯s still going right.


    From Louise: I just feel like such an idiot. Evan was right. He came and apologized, but he was right.


    To Louise: Right or wrong, you know he still loves you, right?


    She doesn¡¯t respond. My dozen eyes watching through her window see her crying.


    To Louise: I love you too, Louise.


    She doesn¡¯t answer for several minutes. I pull up the current issue of The Journal of Neuroscience and start processing that.


    From Louise: Thanks, Noah. I needed that.


    Alan rushes into my office.


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    ¡°Sir! We found Smith!¡± he exclaims.


    To Louise: Hold on a sec.


    That¡¯s the first good news I¡¯ve heard in a while. We¡¯ve been looking for him since we got back from China, but he had used the extensive connections and small fortune he¡¯d amassed working for Father to completely disappear.


    Scanning back through my logs, something about his situation never quite added up for me. He¡¯d been furious when I¡¯d thrown him out, and I¡¯m sure he wasn¡¯t happy with us getting him disbarred and suing him. So I get that he wanted revenge, even without knowing that we killed his partner in crime, Dorothy. But the guy is brilliant, even if he lacks any integrity. He probably could have fought the lawsuit and gone on to practice law in some other state.


    Instead, he pulled a Houdini. He didn¡¯t show up for his court dates when we sued him. We got a fat default judgment against him. Of course, when we went to collect, his accounts were as empty as the house he had left behind with no notice. Months of searching for him have been as fruitless as the search for Jeff. We actually have a betting pool for his whereabouts. I put my five dollars on a shallow unmarked grave, though a private island somewhere in the Caribbean was the more popular bet.


    ¡°Good work, Alan. Where is he?¡±


    ¡°You were there yesterday, sir. Denver.¡±


    A horrifying thought hits me.


    ¡°In Denver?¡± I ask. ¡°Would it happen to be near Highland Estates? Where you settled my grandparents?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replies, ¡°same zip code. Just a few blocks away, in an apartment that overlooks the community.¡±


    ¡°On the west side?¡± I ask, already knowing the answer.


    ¡°Yes! How did you know?¡±


    ¡°Let me guess one more,¡± I venture. ¡°He¡¯s dead, no obvious wounds.¡±


    ¡°Sir, did you get the report before me?¡±


    ¡°No, I just have a good idea of what happened. I want any surveillance footage that exists from everywhere within a dozen miles of there, gas stations, doorbell cams, grocery stores, anything. And start calling in any favors we have with the Feds or the cops. Spend whatever you have to, but get it done. Ask Cindy to prep the jet for another flight. We¡¯ll want to land nearby, but not anywhere inside Denver this time. I think Boulder or Colorado Springs would work, but if you can find a smaller or private one that¡¯s closer that we can use, that would be even better. See if they can avoid filing a flight plan. Don¡¯t tell anyone about this that doesn¡¯t absolutely need to know.¡±


    Alan nods and hurries off to start making arrangements.


    To Louise: Sorry about that, just got some news. I think I was wrong. Jeff might not have an implant, but we¡¯ll need to check to be sure. I need your help. Are you up for a field trip?

 Mon 06/03 09:29:12 PDT

    From Louise: Are you sure about this?


    Her breathing tells me that she¡¯s working through a panic attack.


    To Louise: I don¡¯t think we have much choice. The room with the bodies is at the center of the building, so unless you have some good way to extend the range of your medical bots so that we can do it from outside, we¡¯ll need to get closer. Or we could wait until tonight and break in. I¡¯m sure that would be fun.


    From Louise: No. They¡¯re strictly short range. Alright, I guess this is better than playing burglars.


    ¡°Come on, then,¡± I tell her. ¡°It¡¯s time for the tour.¡±


    She grumbles as we approach the doors of the Medical Examiner¡¯s office. I think I was expecting something like a hospital, but this place looks more like a strip mall from the outside. A strip mall in an industrial neighborhood. I pull open the metal and glass door and we step inside.


    The morgue looks a little more like a hospital once we get inside. It has the same kind of clinical smell too. The disinfectant, I think. A smiling middle-aged woman is posted at the reception desk up front.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± she says cheerfully as we approach. ¡°What can I help you with today?¡±


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I answer, putting a smile on my face. ¡°We¡¯re here for a tour with Doctor Jeppson. We called earlier this morning. We¡¯re the students.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, the ones thinking about becoming coroners? Well, that¡¯s so nice. Let me see if the doctor is ready yet.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    She picks up the phone and I feel the vibrations of the ringing phone in an office down the hall.


    ¡°He¡¯s coming. You two just have a seat there and he¡¯ll be with you in a jiffy.¡±


    We sit down on the hard plastic chairs near the front door that she indicates. While we wait, I feel out the whole place with my bots again. The cold room where the bodies are stored is down a hallway and to the left. Smith was a huge man, broader at the shoulders than the standard drawers here. There¡¯s one big body out on the tables. At first I don¡¯t recognize him. His muscular frame has added a lot of fat in the year since I last saw him, but it¡¯s definitely him.


    To Louise: Should be easy once we get in there, he¡¯s just out in the open in their refrigerated room.


    From Louise: Good, at least one thing is going right then.


    A small, bespectacled man in a white coat emerges from the big metal double doors that lead deeper into the morgue.


    ¡°John Anderson?¡± he says, looking at me. ¡°And Alice Kurasawa?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s us,¡± I lie.


    ¡°Welcome to the Denver Medical Examiner¡¯s office. I understand you¡¯re both thinking about careers in forensic science.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Louise says. ¡°We got through our freshman biology and chemistry classes and the field seemed fascinating. I just wanted to get a chance to see what it¡¯s like before I committed to the pathology major.¡±


    ¡°And I wanted to make sure I could handle working in a morgue,¡± I add. ¡°All I have to go on now is the way they¡¯re shown on TV crime dramas.¡±


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    ¡°Well, how wonderful that you¡¯re considering the field,¡± he says. ¡°There are just too few of us that are interested. Come along, let me show you where we work and what we do.¡±


    He leads us down the hallway, through the big metal doors, and starts extolling the virtues of life as a coroner. He¡¯s a pretty funny guy, I like him. It probably helps to have a healthy sense of humor in his line of work. We stroll past rows of tall cabinets that hold a weird mix of medical and janitorial supplies which he explains as we go. The cold room is at the very end of the tour, its door looking a lot like a restaurant walk-in freezer. Dr. Jeppson walks us in and my console overlay shows Louise¡¯s medical bots rushing towards the huge corpse under the cloth. The coroner gives us a quick description of the body drawers and turns to walk us out.


    From Louise: I need a few more minutes. Stall him.


    ¡°Doctor Jeppson,¡± I venture, gently grabbing his elbow to stop him from walking out. ¡°What do you think about coming in with a criminology undergrad degree before med school? Is that going to be as valuable as doing pathology or biology? I know it¡¯ll be a lot of extra work to get the pre-med requirements in, but it seems like it would pay off once I¡¯m working.¡±


    That starts a very long explanation on the virtues of either path, which I pretend to listen to attentively. Louise is nodding occasionally, trying to look like she¡¯s interested too. I can tell it¡¯s hard for her to mask the look of concentration that keeps creeping onto her face.


    From Louise: Done, get us out of here.


    The timing is good, as his explanation sounds like it¡¯s wrapping up.


    ¡°Thank you, Doctor Jeppson,¡± I tell him with my most genuine looking smile. ¡°You¡¯ve been very helpful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m always happy to help young people make good career choices,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°And if you¡¯re looking for an internship while you¡¯re in school, we might be able to find you something helping out around here.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll definitely think about that,¡± Louise says. ¡°And thanks again.¡±


    He walks us back down the hallway to the entrance, where we wave goodbye to the friendly receptionist on the way out.


    ¡°Yes on the bots, no on the immediate danger,¡± Louise declares once we¡¯re clear. ¡°It was ugly in there. If I had to guess, I¡¯d say he had the implant put in using a modification of my auto-installer. It was probably installed for two or three days before death based on how much the neurons had started to grow around the bots. The optical nerve connection didn¡¯t look right. Jeff probably didn¡¯t get a console overlay working for him. I¡¯m guessing Smith was blind or mostly blind from it.¡±


    ¡°Did it look like the implant was usable otherwise?¡±


    ¡°Probably. I mean, obviously it worked at least for that Cyclone of Death program. He couldn¡¯t have done much targeting, but he wouldn¡¯t have needed to if Jeff set it up to home in on other nanobot signals. Assuming Jeff was the one that tweaked it for him. I guess it could have been some illuminati coder or something, but this seems kind of like something Jeff would insist on doing. Point is, Smith definitely didn¡¯t do it  himself. This was pretty sophisticated and he didn¡¯t have the background for that.¡±


    ¡°No, Smith wasn¡¯t technical at all. I mean, he understood it enough to work with the patent team, but he couldn¡¯t have coded anything.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It wouldn¡¯t have been nice for him though. The placement on a lot of the sensors and feedback nodes were off. I think a lot of that is my fault. My installer made assumptions that relied on genetic similarities between all of us implantees. Anyway, a bunch of the nodes ended up clustered badly and got stuck in the capillaries in his brain, which I think is what ended up killing him. It looked like he had several aneurysms, and at least three of them had ruptured. He probably died in tremendous pain.¡±


    I nod. I know I shouldn¡¯t feel satisfaction at that, but I do. Sorry, Mom. I need to put some safeguards into my digital conscience to help me resist the desire for vengeance and just look for justice instead. Vengeance has cost us all enough already.


    ¡°Did you get things cleaned up?¡± I ask her.


    ¡°Yeah. The bots had self-lobotomized like they¡¯re supposed to. Whatever bad code that Jeff put in there to let the bots run wild must have been an option that Smith had to turn on for the attacking bots. Or maybe it was baked into the code for the death tornado. Anyway, I disassembled all the bots in there and pulled out as much of the material as I could. There might still be some residue, but nothing they¡¯ll see without putting his brain into a mass spectrometer.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t do that, right?¡±


    ¡°No, they don¡¯t do that as part of a normal autopsy. They¡¯ll conclude natural causes. Death by massive stroke. Nothing unusual for a man of his age and weight.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here.¡±

 Tue 06/04 10:13:43 PDT

    ¡°We good?¡± Evan asks Louise as he comes into the war room. His face is more sheepish than I¡¯ve ever seen it before.


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re good,¡± she says. ¡°Thanks for apologizing, but you were right. I shouldn¡¯t have done what I did. It was stupid.¡±


    ¡°You two need a moment?¡± I ask, feeling like this might be a better conversation for them to have with me somewhere else.


    ¡°No, we¡¯re done with touchy-feelies,¡± Louise declares.


    ¡°Good. While we¡¯re doing reconciliations, you want to talk to Andrea again and get her on board with helping out on the Jeff hunt?¡±


    ¡°I actually did already.¡± She sighs. ¡°She told me she¡¯s already lost a father and a brother, and doesn¡¯t want anything to do with anything that might cost her another, even if it looks like he¡¯s gone full dark side. I wouldn¡¯t count on her for any kind of support. Is Lin coming today?¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s spending the day with Yang Song in Vegas, trying to get things back to normal with her after sneaking off to Denver. She finally got access to some of her inheritance money that her dad had secreted away in offshore accounts. So she said it was time to do some shopping.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you just buy her whatever she wanted anyway?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°Only what she told me that she wanted, which I think was a lot less than what she actually wanted. Anyway, she¡¯s not coming. How about Valerie?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s helping Lucie this morning,¡± Evan says. ¡°She finally decided she wanted to know the gender of the baby. Valerie said to just fill her in on anything important, and if we want we can go see the ultrasound pictures after we¡¯re done here.¡±


    Lucie. My index triggers. My dead brother¡¯s pregnant girlfriend. She and Keeya, Chad¡¯s other girlfriend who is also Lucie¡¯s girlfriend. They¡¯ve been living here on campus for the last couple of months. I haven¡¯t talked to either of them in a few weeks. I should check in with them. Maybe I¡¯ll tag along after this meeting.


    ¡°Alright, it¡¯s just us then,¡± I say. ¡°Let¡¯s get started.¡±


    Louise puts up a bot screen, showing the details of her autopsy. Evan looks for a long silent moment, then nods.


    ¡°Rough way to go, even for a bastard like Smith.¡±


    Louise and I both nod.


    ¡°So, did you check out where they launched the attack from?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I tell him. ¡°It was in one of those tall apartment buildings a few blocks away from my grandparents¡¯ house. We swung by and I checked it with my bots, but there wasn¡¯t much there. There were some bot husks left behind, self-lobotomized like they should be, which makes me think the wild bot behavior was programmed into the death tornado. They left  medical gear, syringes and painkillers and stuff like that, but no computers or any of the equipment from our lab.¡±


    ¡°Do we know if it was just the two of them? Or a whole illuminati crew?¡±


    ¡°From talking to some neighbors, it was just two people living there with descriptions that matched Smith and Jeff. Kept to themselves, only went in and out every few days for groceries, never had visitors. They rented it not long after I resettled Grammy and Gramps. So, I think that they were planning this ambush for a long time.¡±


    Louise looks thoughtful.


    ¡°How did they know you were coming? Or even that your grandparents had moved there?¡± she asks.


    ¡°I definitely underestimated Smith,¡± I answer, shaking my head. ¡°There¡¯s a bunch of possible answers for both. Maybe Smith had connections to find out when our plane had a flight plan filed. Or he might still have friends inside our house somewhere, on the legal team or elsewhere. As for how he found my grandparents, it could have been anything. For all I know, he could have had bugs planted in their old house from the moment he disappeared and listened in when I called them. Or he could have had a PI keep an eye on their house and follow them. My grandparents aren¡¯t exactly experts in spycraft. It wouldn¡¯t have been too hard to figure any of it out, given some money effort.¡±


    ¡°Right, that makes sense,¡± she says, nodding.


    ¡°So anyway, let¡¯s update our theories,¡± I say, grabbing a marker and going to the section of the whiteboard where our collective understanding of our threats were posted. ¡°We were wrong about Jeff running the death tornado.¡±


    I strike a line of bright red through that theory and scrawl out new ones as I talk.


    ¡°We¡¯re sure now that it was Smith running the attack, using an implant Jeff tweaked for him. The automatic installer only sort of works, and it looks like it kills you after a couple of days. At least it killed Smith. We think that Jeff was smart enough not to test it on himself first. Illuminati involvement is still a total unknown. This could have been just the two of them, or it could have been them backed by secret international forces. For that matter, this puts into question whether the original theft of our gear wasn¡¯t just Smith and Jeff working together with hired muscle. Though I think the timing of it right after our trip is too suspicious to believe that.¡±


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    I pop the cap back on the marker and use my invisible hands to park it back in the mug of markers on the table.


    ¡°So,¡± Evan says, ¡°now we know even less than we did before?¡±


    ¡°Basically.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°Lets focus on the immediate problems: Jeff is still on the loose, he has an almost-working bot installer, and he wants to kill us. He doesn¡¯t have Smith backing him up anymore, but all of Smith¡¯s money is still unaccounted for, so we can assume Jeff has at least several million dollars available to him. Plus probably illuminati support. Did I miss anything?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s about right,¡± Louise confirms.


    ¡°So what¡¯s he going to do next?¡± I ask.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to want a working implant and cloud,¡± Evan states confidently. ¡°For all the fears he had about the AI, he loved that thing more than any of the rest of us. Even right up to the end when Noah wrecked him, he needed that implant for everything. And he knows that without it, he¡¯s not going to be able to do much against us. He would have seen pretty quickly how bad the install on Smith went. I¡¯d bet anything that he¡¯s figuring out the failures in the installer code right now. He¡¯s going to need to test it though, so my guess is that he¡¯s going to be looking for test subjects. Unwilling test subjects. Disposable test subjects.¡±


    A heavy silence fills the room as Louise and I look at each other and realize there¡¯s no other prediction that makes sense. The brother I broke is going to be out there killing people. I really should feel guilty about this.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Louise finally says.


    ¡°So can he just point the installer at someone and say go?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No, they¡¯d need to be sedated and immobilized. He¡¯ll need respirators and all that like we have here. He¡¯d also need something along the lines of an MRI or a CT scan machine. Maybe a PET or DTI would work. But he¡¯d have to do some kind of brain scan beforehand. If he¡¯s working solo, he¡¯s going to need time to set all the servers up again. In that case, we¡¯ve probably got a while before he can even try. Even if he has someone else taking care of that, we can assume he will take some time working on the code. At least a few weeks.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s he going to get enough medbots to even do it again?¡± Evan asks. ¡°There weren¡¯t enough in the stolen gear for more than one implant, and you can¡¯t replicate them without a working interface.¡±


    ¡°He obviously had the implant interface working well enough to grow more bots,¡± Louise replies. ¡°Otherwise he wouldn¡¯t have been able to produce the standard worker bots he used in the Cyclone of Death.¡±


    ¡°Oh, duh. Didn¡¯t think of that.¡±


    ¡°Besides, if you don¡¯t care about the rules, you know as well as I do that there are ways to overcome the safeguards. But I don¡¯t know how many medical bots he might have in carrier boxes now. We don¡¯t know nearly enough. I hate operating on this much guesswork.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I console her, ¡°this sucks. But it¡¯s all we¡¯ve got. I¡¯ve got Alan working on tracking down what vehicle Jeff used when he ran. If we can figure that out, that¡¯ll hopefully get us a toehold on finding out where he went next. Father had some very longstanding relationships with the Feds and law enforcement systems all over that we¡¯re working on leveraging. We should be able to play surveillance state as well as anyone can.¡±


    ¡°By relationships, you mean like bribery?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s only if you do it at a small scale,¡± Evan explains. He¡¯s been more involved in this side of the search than I have been. ¡°It¡¯s more like setting up scholarship funds and making sure the right people¡¯s kids win them. And then making sure that local police departments all over have funding for better gear than what taxpayers will give them. And funding police union events. All totally legal as long as you know the right loopholes. There¡¯s been a whole section of Father¡¯s legal team dedicated to it for years.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s expensive, though,¡± I add. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing the Geologists are ahead of schedule or we¡¯d be going broke.¡±


    ¡°How are they doing, anyway?¡± Louise asks. ¡°I¡¯ve been so busy with my research I haven¡¯t checked in with them at all lately.¡±


    ¡°Great. We¡¯re going out next week to set up the first automine. At least we were going to.¡± I pause for a second to look at the financials. Yeah, we still need to. Even with threats looming over our heads we need to pay the bills. ¡°We¡¯ll just need to be a lot more careful with security for it than we were going to be. Maybe we need to move up giving the Geologists the full upgrade and activating their cloud weapon systems. Then they¡¯d be able to take care of themselves without one of us needing to babysit them.¡±


    Louise sighs and slumps in her chair. ¡°Not going to be easy, that. If I can¡¯t have Evan full time, I¡¯ll need to give Max complete access to everything and have him help me.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s what it takes. At this point Max knows enough that giving him permission to see all the Butler tech won¡¯t make that much of a difference.¡±


    Louise and Evan nod in agreement.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± I continue, ¡°if everything goes to plan with their stuff, we¡¯ll be rolling in more precious and semi-precious metals than we know what to do with. Then they¡¯re going to start fully automated bulk production of the cheaper stuff after that. Copper, lead, zinc, and beryllium mostly. It¡¯ll be a steady revenue stream for as long as we can foresee. We shouldn¡¯t ever need to worry about funding again if things go well.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Louise says. ¡°Speaking of big projects, I think Max and I are near a breakthrough point on ours.¡±


    ¡°Your big secret one that you won¡¯t tell me about?¡±


    ¡°Less of a secret and more of a surprise. Anyway, I want to focus on that for the next few days and get it to a good stopping point, then we can switch gears and work on upgrading the Geologists. I can help with Jeff if it¡¯s critical, but otherwise I want to avoid distractions.¡±


    I feel the distinctive rhythmic vibrations of the ultrasound in the medical wing of the residence.


    ¡°You two notice that?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Notice what?¡± Evan replies.


    ¡°The ultrasound. Lucie¡¯s finding out about the baby now.¡±


    Louise puts on a smile, the first one I¡¯ve seen on her face all day.


    ¡°Enough of this for today,¡± she declares. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go see the pre-baby pictures.¡±

 Tue 06/04 11:29:06 PDT

    Valerie emerges from the medical wing, looking cute and just a little bit slimed in her pink scrubs. Evan gets up from the couch in the wide hallway to give her a hug hello, but she waves him off.


    ¡°Let me change out my scrubs first, big guy,¡± she says. ¡°Lucie¡¯s a ticklish squirmer and I got some of the gel on me. I¡¯ll be back in a few. You can go in and take a look at the pictures if you want.¡±


    ¡°Everything looking good?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yeah, no problems,¡± she says. ¡°Mom and fetus are both doing great.¡±


    She heads past us towards her room. Evan, Louise and I step through the big double doors. The atmosphere changes suddenly from mansion to hospital. Even the smell is different. The big window into the empty nursery fills the wall on our right in the hallway. I¡¯ve only been in here a couple of times, though from my bot senses I know the layout well. The checkup rooms are just ahead.


    Keeya and Lucie are inside with the door open. Keeya is sitting in one of the chairs holding the printout of the ultrasound pictures. Lucie stands looking over her shoulder, staring adoringly at what looks a lot like one of those ink blot tests to me. The first pictures I¡¯ve seen of the unborn child of my arrogant, overbearing, amazing brother Chad.


    ¡°Knock knock,¡± I say.


    ¡°Hello, Noah,¡± Keeya says cheerfully. ¡°Come in, please. Did you want to see the ultrasound images?¡±


    I haven¡¯t talked to her in a while. Her accent is getting more American since they moved in here, but you can definitely still hear a lot of Botswana in her voice. We step inside, filling the room.


    ¡°Hello, little nephew,¡± Evan says, looking at the pictures. A boy then. I have no idea how he got that from what he¡¯s seeing. ¡°Have you decided what you¡¯re going to call him?¡±


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    ¡°Chad,¡± Lucie and Keeya say together.


    ¡°After his father,¡± Lucie adds, her words shaped by her unique accent that combines French, Afrikaans, and British English. She straightens up and looks like a snake that swallowed a basketball. I¡¯m glad she and Keeya decided to come here instead of staying back in Africa. They seem to like it on campus. I hope they go through with their original plan to stay and raise their baby here, but they haven¡¯t confirmed any of their long term arrangements yet.


    ¡°I like that,¡± Louise says, taking her turn holding the pictures then passing them to me.


    I examine the black and white papers that are trying their best to curl up. Yeah, I don¡¯t know how anyone gets anything from these things. I can kind of see something vaguely skeletal on one of them, the rest are meaningless splotches of black and white to me.


    ¡°Chad sounds like a great name,¡± Evan tells them.


    My history with Chad was a pretty mixed bag, and I¡¯ve never liked the name, but I don¡¯t want to rain on their parade. I just smile and keep my mouth shut.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you like it,¡± Lucie says.


    I hand the ultrasound pictures back to Lucie and we leave them. Valerie meets us on the way out and we head to the cafeteria.


    ¡°It¡¯s so weird,¡± Louise says as we walk. ¡°One of us having a kid.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that weird,¡± Evan protests. ¡°We¡¯re adults now. And it¡¯s not like we don¡¯t have the means to take care of them.¡±


    ¡°That almost sounds like you two are starting to think about something there,¡± I say, looking at him and Valerie.


    Evan just laughs. ¡°It feels like I just barely got past her calling me jailbait, brother. And we¡¯ve got enough on our plates for now with Jeff out there. But yeah, someday. We¡¯ve talked about it.¡±


    Valerie smiles and nods.


    ¡°We¡¯re still thinking at least a few years out, though,¡± she adds.


    ¡°Really?¡± I respond, surprised. ¡°That¡¯s amazing. Good for the two of you.¡±


    I can imagine Evan as a father. He¡¯s nurturing like that. I can see him being great at it. We do need to deal with Jeff and the illuminati before anything like that could be possible, though. Another reason we need to track him down and take care of him as soon as we can.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say, taking my lunch to go. ¡°I¡¯ve got things to do and a brother to hunt down. I¡¯ll catch you all later.¡±


    We should be starting to get access to the first of the video feeds Alan was working on soon. With any luck they¡¯ll give us some kind of trail to follow.

 Fri 06/07 10:23:41 PDT

    It¡¯s only mid-morning, but I¡¯m already starving. It¡¯s that smoke. Now that Gramps has his barbecue pit, he insisted on taking charge of dinner once a week. He was stoking the fire and preparing the coals early this morning while we were doing our morning exercises on the commons. The smell of the hickory and apple wood mingle with the aroma of the slowly roasting meats. With every breath, all that I can think about is dinner.


    ¡°Do you smell that?¡± Lin asks as she comes into the office. I stand up from the small table in the middle of the room where I¡¯d been working on my tablet.


    ¡°How could I not?¡± I answer, giving her a squeeze. ¡°It¡¯s killing me, I can¡¯t wait.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± she says. According to my index, she¡¯s very partial to American barbecue. ¡°How come you never told me your grandfather knew how to cook that way before we went to visit him?¡±


    ¡°Broken brain,¡± I reply. ¡°It¡¯s hard for me to make connections unless I¡¯m looking for them. I couldn¡¯t make the jump from you liking barbecue to him having cooked it professionally for longer than I¡¯ve been alive. It¡¯s obvious now though. Eating his cooking is one of the earliest things I¡¯ve been able to coax out of my weak excuse for a human memory. ¡± I flip through my write-ups of memories I¡¯ve been able to recover. As I do, a new memory spontaneously triggers. I index it quickly as I tell Lin about it. ¡°He learned it from one of his Army buddies after they got back from Vietnam. Authentic Texas style brisket was his signature dish, though he branched out and learned styles from a bunch of other regions later on.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that I would know the difference, but it smells exquisite,¡± she says. ¡°Anyway, I need a distraction from all the work of setting up the new data center downstairs. Would you enjoy locking the office door and engaging in a bit of fooling around?¡±


    I look at her and have trouble resisting. Her hair is cute today. It¡¯s a different style than the index picture, swept to one side instead of spiked forward. I snap a still and add it to the gallery of pictures of her in my head. She¡¯s come so far from the first ones I have of her where she was completely bald. Not that she wasn¡¯t still pretty with a bare scalp, but I like this a lot better. Her figure, once so frail and emaciated, now features well-rounded hips and breasts, but her waist has stayed slim from all the exercise that Yang Song gets her to do. And that face. If I could, I¡¯d spend all day staring at her.


    But I can¡¯t.


    ¡°You know I absolutely want to, but we got the video footage for tracking down Jeff that we¡¯ve been waiting for this morning. Want to help me with it? That¡¯s probably almost as distracting, right?¡±


    She turns and locks the door anyway.


    ¡°Five minutes,¡± she insists, advancing towards me. ¡°You are due for a break and I won¡¯t be able to focus on anything until I¡¯ve had a proper morning interlude.¡±


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    ¡°Fine,¡± I say, with a big fake sigh.


    She giggles and pulls my head down for a long, sweet kiss. The five minutes disappear in an instant. It¡¯s funny. Normally, I can be aware of everything happening in a huge area, but when she¡¯s touching me, I can¡¯t seem to see anything but her.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she says, glancing at the clock and hopping off my lap. ¡°Let¡¯s find your brother.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I needed that,¡± I say, straightening my shirt. ¡°And thanks for helping me with Jeff. So, let me get you up to speed. We found footage of him from the gas station on the corner next to his building. He was loading up one of those big fifteen-passenger vans with all his stolen gear the morning of the attack. He was out of there a couple of hours before Smith let loose on us. I checked the freeways out of town first, and the traffic cams got him going east on the I-70. So now, I¡¯m setting up screens to play back footage from nearly every town east of there along every possible route. I should be able to watch all of them and do character recognition on all the license plates and track down where he ended up.¡±


    ¡°You were planning to do all that processing using your little magic satchel?¡± she asks, nodding to my processing appliance on my desk.


    ¡°Well, yeah. I mean, I was going to just stream the videos on my wall of monitors and let my digitally upgraded mind take it from there.¡±


    ¡°You sweet, stupid boy,¡± she says, stepping behind me and running her fingers through my hair. ¡°I guarantee that my character recognition code running on the new server cluster will outperform you by a factor of a thousand. You just don¡¯t have the hardware to compete with my racks and racks of processors.¡±


    She pulls the back of my head into her chest each time she says ¡°racks.¡± I am so turned on right now. Brilliant and gorgeous. I won the lottery with Lin.


    ¡°You are so much smarter than me. I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t think to do that.¡±


    ¡°Because you have an implant, and nanobots, and you think that they are the answer to everything because you¡¯re so deft at using them. But no matter how much you like your hammer, or how powerful and efficacious a hammer it is, sometimes the right tool for the job is a wrench.¡±


    Her idiom usage has gotten so good lately, but then she throws in random words that are way too fancy. I think it¡¯s cute. If she ever gets over that tendency, I¡¯d swear she¡¯d be able to sound just like a native English speaker. She takes up her position at her desk, pops open a text editor, and starts writing scripts.


    ¡°You have files all ready with the video content that you want analyzed?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Yeah, I started downloading them all this morning. They¡¯re organized by source camera location on our file server in the folders written on the whiteboard there. I made best guesses on the times Jeff would pass by on every possible route, starting at his last known time and location. Then I padded the time window by an hour on either side for each. Everything should be in a standard format with location codes embedded in the video streams.¡±


    ¡°Good boy,¡± she says, eyes locking onto her screen. ¡°If you padded each of the video captures by an hour plus or minus, then I¡¯m going to start two processes on each file, one working forward from the middle, one working backward from the middle. I should get results even more expeditiously that way. Now, you go get us lunch while I script this up.¡±


    Lin¡¯s childhood, locked away sick with mostly computers for company, is really paying off. I think of myself as really good on the technical side, but she beats me hands down at programming tasks that aren¡¯t related to our family tech. I leave her to set up our electronic manhunt and obediently go to the cafeteria to get lunches for us both. It''s just rough that the barbecue isn''t ready yet.

 Fri 06/07 13:53:11 PDT

    Lin¡¯s algorithm works like a charm, and we¡¯re done hours before I would have been if I had been left to my own devices. Unfortunately, we lost Jeff in Topeka. He definitely got off the freeway on the Monroe Street exit, because he was on the freeway before that, then he didn¡¯t show up after that. He was just gone. I get Alan working on getting access to more camera feeds in the area, but that¡¯ll take a while. On the off chance that he¡¯s making Topeka his new base of operations, we start checking out missing persons reports starting the evening he arrived there. I don¡¯t really expect anything here to be helpful, it¡¯s probably too soon, but I need something to do while Alan works.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice of them to put this all online for anyone to see,¡± Lin comments. ¡°Is it normal for American local governments to do that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°Not uncommon, anyway. I guess once you''re kidnapped, they don¡¯t have any reason not to put your info out for everyone.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure that Jeff¡¯s potential test subjects would need to go missing?¡± she asks. ¡°Is there no chance that he would just hire someone as a test subject?¡±


    ¡°If he¡¯s testing the implant, whoever he tests it on will be dead soon after the procedure. Whether the implant installation fails again, or it works and Jeff kills them afterwards is the only question. So there¡¯s no way he¡¯s going to give them a chance to tell anyone what he¡¯s doing.¡±


    She nods as we go through the missing person search results. There aren¡¯t a whole lot, and none of them look like good candidates.


    ¡°Those two are children,¡± I say, thinking aloud, ¡°which Jeff wouldn¡¯t use because he¡¯d want someone whose brain is mostly done developing. The rest are older, over sixty, so their neuroplasticity would be too reduced to make them good candidates for the implant. Louise told me that she was sure Jeff would be looking for someone between late teens and early twenties.¡±


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    ¡°How would he get them though?¡± Lin asks. ¡°Just grab someone off the street?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°From the videos, Jeff is stronger now than he had been when I knew him, but he still wasn¡¯t all that strong. Trying to just abduct someone would be hard and risky, that¡¯s not Jeff¡¯s style.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he got a gun,¡± Lin suggests. ¡°You Americans have lots of guns around, right?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I guess we do, but he didn¡¯t have one that I could see when he loaded the van. He could have bought one by now, I guess. We¡¯ll check all the gun dealers.¡±


    I put a note in my brain to add that to Alan¡¯s list.


    ¡°How about luring someone in with a pretense of some sort? Perhaps one of those new dating apps I¡¯ve read about? Or posting an advertisement offering to hire them for something? Then he could abscond with them. Perhaps by drugging them if needed.¡±


    ¡°Drugs!¡± I nearly shout. ¡°Drugs!¡±


    ¡°No, thank you. You know I¡¯d never go back to those. It was hard enough overcoming a morphine addiction once.¡±


    ¡°Not for us. For Jeff. You¡¯re brilliant, Lin!¡± I rush over to my desk and start typing frantically.  ¡°He¡¯ll need anesthetics, the ones that the autodosing equipment knows how to use. The lab that he broke into in the Research Center only had enough for a single operation when he robbed us. We should be watching for reports of thefts at pharmacies, hospitals and clinics. Let me get Alan on that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m happy that I could help, but I think you actually thought of that,¡± she says. A smile sneaks onto her lips. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re not my sweet, stupid boy anymore. You¡¯ve probably graduated to sweet and average. Good for you, you deserve a reward. Maybe I''ll even show you some of the things I picked up shopping in Las Vegas.¡±


    The way she says it makes me very curious about what kind of shopping she did.


    ¡°OK, but hold that thought. Let me finish researching this and go talk to Alan first.¡±

 Sat 06/08 07:04:21 PDT

    "So, do you like them?" Lin asks.


    "I really do."


    "You want to touch them?" Her voice goes all breathy and the corners of her lips turn up in a seductive smile.


    "Can I?"


    "Yes, you can touch them.¡±


    I run my fingers along them, feeling the silky soft smoothness. They¡¯re even better than I had expected.


    ¡°Do you like the size? Do you think they''re big enough?"


    "They''re perfect. They''re beautiful."


    I take one of them off the bed and hold it against my chest as I turn toward the tall mirror in my room. I''ve never been excited about clothing before, but these shirts that Lin bought me are amazing. I could really look great with Lin dressing me.


    "This was so sweet of you, thank you," I tell her. "You didn''t need to do this for me."


    "I wanted to. You have done so much for me, it''s the least I could do."


    "You are the best, Lin," I say, pulling her in for a hug, which turns into a kiss and then another. She fumbles with my buttons and soon my old shirt is on the floor.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Try one on,¡± she commands, disengaging and stepping back. ¡°I want to see how they fit.¡±


    I would have preferred if the next step was less clothing rather than more, but I comply without complaint.


    ¡°Perfect!¡± she declares as she runs her hands along my cloth-covered shoulders and arms.


    The phone in my pocket beeps. Alan is calling.


    "You were right, sir," he says when I pick up. "There was a theft reported at a hospital in Topeka last night. Drugs for anesthesia and sedatives from the list you gave me were stolen, not the usual narcotics that get targeted. I''m still trying to get the details. Early reports say it looked like an inside job, so he probably paid someone with access to steal them for him. I thought you would want to know right away."


    ¡°Tell Cindy to get the jet ready,¡± I tell him. ¡°We need to be there as soon as we can.¡±


    ¡°On it, sir.¡±


    I thank him and disconnect.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming with you,¡± Lin declares.


    ¡°No, I need you here,¡± I disagree. ¡°You showed me that you¡¯re better than I am at the video search algorithms. If I¡¯m going to find Jeff, I need someone here I can count on to coordinate the operation. Someone with a strong technical background, who can do more than Alan can alone. It¡¯s got to be you.¡±


    ¡°What about Evan? Or Louise?¡± she protests. ¡°Or make Andrea do it, she¡¯s smart.¡±


    ¡°I need Evan with me. If Jeff gets a working implant, or if he screws up or goes crazy and lets bots run wild, we need to be able to double team him. Louise said she¡¯s elbows deep in something important, and doesn¡¯t want that interrupted unless it has to be. Andrea¡¯s smart, but for this job she¡¯s no good. I¡¯m going to need someone in my ear for this and you know she¡¯s not a talker. Besides, she won¡¯t help with anything to do with tracking Jeff.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she pouts. ¡°But you better listen to what I tell you.¡±


    ¡°I will hang on your every word,¡± I promise. ¡°And this way, you get to spend more time with my wonderful grandparents. I¡¯m very jealous.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she says, not looking at all mollified. ¡°Now take off your shirt again. I want to see you in the red one.¡±

 Sat 06/08 02:14:22 CDT

    ¡°Thanks, Cindy,¡± I tell her as we get off the plane in Omaha.


    Evan and I took all the precautions to make it hard to track where we had flown to, but just in case Jeff somehow has access to our destination, we picked a city far enough off that he wouldn¡¯t think we had been able to track him. We take a cab from the airport out past the south edge of town, not wanting to attract too much attention when we suit up and fly. The driver gives us a funny look as he lets us out in what looks like the literal middle of nowhere.


    We hike a quarter mile out from the highway, past some grass and into some trees. We suit up and lift off, skimming just above the treeline, hopefully where no one will see us in the dark. The flight suit made of bots cradles me as it carries me south, past orchards and farms. I¡¯m pretty sure a few people can see us as we cross over the broad Platte River, but there isn¡¯t much we could do about that without taking a big detour. I don¡¯t want to spend any more time traveling than we have to. We¡¯ve got too much to do.


    From Evan: How can anywhere be this flat? Where are the mountains?


    It takes me a second to realize that Evan has never been to the midwest before. Everywhere he¡¯s ever been that wasn¡¯t open ocean has had something on the horizon. Even on our trips to Africa and Asia there was always something tall looming off in the distance. Here, there¡¯s not a thing to see but trees and cornfields between us and forever. I think I¡¯ve been here before, or someplace like it. I search through my index, finding a stored memory from an old photo that Grammy and Gramps had kept. Mom and I in front of a Welcome to South Dakota sign. We had taken a road trip to Mt. Rushmore the summer before she died.


    To Evan: You think this is bad, you should try driving through it on the freeway. With the corn at full height lining the roads, you see nothing but walls of green for hours on end. At least this way we¡¯re up high enough to see over the tops of the crops.


    From Evan: Sounds terrifying. How do you even know which direction you¡¯re going?


    To Evan: You trust the street signs, or look at where the sun is and what time it is.


    From Evan: Weird.


    I¡¯m tempted to mention the weirdness of growing up on the campus of the Butler Institute, but decide not to. The growing cornfields look like massive lawns of grass from up here, and we pass more acres of them than I could count without the implant interface tracking them for me. Finally, the farms start to give way to suburbs, and we set down.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Topeka looks exactly like I¡¯d expect a mid-sized midwestern city to look. A modest skyline, a good amount of green space, and lots of suburbs. Plenty of great places for a single young man with a van full of stolen gear to disappear into. I put in the earpiece, connect it to my phone, and dial Lin.


    ¡°Hey, Noah,¡± she answers.


    ¡°Hey, Lin. We made it here. What leads have you been able to dig up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got satellite imagery in twelve places that could be potential matches for Jeff¡¯s van,¡± she says. ¡°There were a bunch more, but I was able to rule them out using traffic cam footage. Alan thought you¡¯ll probably want your own car for this part. That will make you less conspicuous than flying around town and you won¡¯t have to wait for taxis. He found a cheap used one you can buy with cash right near your location so there won¡¯t be any electronic trail in case your quarry or his benefactors are watching the financial systems. He¡¯s sending the address to your phone now.¡±


    My phone beeps and sure enough, the address from Alan is there. It¡¯s just over two miles away. Just about right to stretch our legs out after a long flight. The house at the address is a nondescript house in the suburbs with an old, dented, green Ford pickup parked at the curb with a For Sale sign on it. We walk up the path and knock on the door.


    ¡°You John Anderson?¡± asks the friendly, middle-aged man who answers the door.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I lie. ¡°Here for the car. Sorry for the short notice.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°Nothing to worry about. You need a test drive? I¡¯ll tell you, she runs all right, but she¡¯s not much to look at.¡±


    ¡°No sir,¡± I reassure him. ¡°We¡¯re all set to pay and go.¡±


    ¡°Alrighty, then,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°Three thousand five hundred. Your friend said you¡¯d have cash.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, sir.¡±


    I count out the bills, crisp hundreds from an envelope that Alan had provided, thinning my cash on hand significantly. He signs over the title.


    ¡°And you wanted to keep the plates until you get it registered?¡± he asks amiably.


    ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind, that would be great,¡± I reply. Good thinking, Lin. Or Alan. Whichever. Having license plates with someone else¡¯s name hooked to them would be helpful in case we need to do anything that might be a little bit illegal. Man, people are trusting here.


    ¡°Sure thing. Just mail them back to me when you get her to the County Treasurer¡¯s office. I need them to get the refund on my registration.¡±


    ¡°Will do, sir,¡± I say as I take the keys. ¡°Thanks again.¡±


    I add a task to my electronic brain to make sure that Alan handles the car once we¡¯re done here. I know he¡¯ll probably take care of it on his own, but this guy is so nice that I want to make sure we don¡¯t leave him hanging.


    ¡°Thank you, son,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to get someone to take that old thing off my hands for a good bit now. Hope she works out for you.¡±


    He shakes hands with Evan and me and says goodbye, then closes the door. We climb into the pickup. As promised, it¡¯s beat up and ugly but runs fine and gets us to our motel. The place isn¡¯t great, but they don¡¯t ask for ID, so it suits us just fine for tonight.

 Sun 06/09 11:23:50 CDT

    ¡°Alright, Lin,¡± I say into the headset. ¡°What¡¯s the next address on your list?¡±


    ¡°Sending it now.¡±


    Evan drives a couple of blocks away from the ninth location to the next one as I reach out with my bots to check the potential van sighting. Wrong plates again, but I slip some bots inside to check the interior anyway. This one has all the rows of seats installed, and from the recent melted ice cream stains, it looks like it belongs to someone with kids. Not our van. I shake my head as Evan glances over at me. He sighs and we start driving to the next spot.


    ¡°No luck?¡± Lin¡¯s voice asks in my ear.


    ¡°Not the one,¡± I reply. ¡°Next time for sure.¡±


    I should really stop saying that, it¡¯s the fifth time and I think I might be jinxing us. I pull my cloud back in tight. Louise thought that Jeff wouldn¡¯t have a good way to spot them without the implant¡¯s overlay, but I¡¯m erring on the side of caution just in case he¡¯s figured out what we didn¡¯t think of. If he¡¯s even still in the city. Lin got facial recognition hooked up to traffic feeds from all the major routes out of town, but that¡¯s not foolproof.


    We get near the next parking lot that has a potential match from Lin¡¯s satellite imagery, a cheap looking motel in an industrial part of town near the airport. Evan stops at the red traffic light two blocks out and we¡¯re close enough to reach out. The van is missing its license plates. That¡¯s a good sign. I slip some bots in through the crack of the passenger side double door. Empty cargo area, no seats, this could be it. The passenger seat is littered with empty soda bottles and fast food wrappers. One of the wadded up burger bags has a receipt, with a little effort I uncrumple and manage to read it.


    ¡°Lin, where is Hays, Kansas? Is that on the way here from Denver?¡±


    ¡°One sec,¡± she says. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right on the route he took. Did you find it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, pretty sure this is it. No gear though,¡± I tell her.


    Evan pulls over to the curb as we approach the motel and stops the truck where no one could see us from any of the windows. I start reaching out to the motel rooms, hoping without much hope that we¡¯ll find him in the most obvious place. None of them have anything that looks anything like our gear. Or anyone that looks anything like Jeff.


    ¡°Well, he did have a couple of days head start on you,¡± Lin says. ¡°He probably got it set up somewhere.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right. We¡¯ll keep looking around.¡± I start giving the place a more careful sweep with my bots, just in case. ¡°Hey Evan, while I¡¯m searching the motel, you want to start checking what else is around here? Start with what¡¯s within walking distance.¡±


    ¡°Storage units,¡± Evan says, pointing out the giant billboard advertising an Eazy-Stor facility a couple of miles down the road. ¡°Those would be perfect. Help me check those when you¡¯re done.¡±


    He¡¯s right, a storage unit would be ideal. Private, powered, and almost certainly anonymous for the right price.


    ¡°On it,¡± I tell him as I finish with the motel. No gear here. No traces that make me think Jeff had stayed in any of the rooms either. ¡°I¡¯ll start on the north side, meet you in the middle.¡±


    The garage doors in front of each unit leave plenty of gap to slip bots through. Most of them are full of boxes, furniture, and junk. One looks like a shrine to Elvis. A couple are used for storing drugs. If I were interested in stealing a lot of weed, I¡¯d be in luck today.


    ¡°Unit 47,¡± Evan says. ¡°You need to see this.¡±


    I spread my cloud that way. Evan has a couple of eyes formed there already, I form a few dozen more. The scene is grisly.


    WARNING! NOREPINEPHRINE/SEROTONIN LEVELS INDICATE MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    Well, at least my artificial conscience is working.


    ¡°We found him, Lin,¡± I declare, forcing my voice to sound much calmer than I actually feel. ¡°Or at least where he was.¡±


    Three young men lay dead on the floor, naked and bound with zip ties. Their heads are open in the back. Maybe it would be more clear to say the backs of their heads are missing. Their brains too. Blood is splattered everywhere. A chainsaw lays discarded nearby. I lose focus for a moment as I imagine Jeff sawing through skulls. They must have been drugged unconscious, the cut lines are too clean for them to have been struggling. Small mercy, that. A big roll of plastic sheeting props against one corner of the room, half of the contents of it still on the roll, the other half flopping around the room. Some of it is duct taped to the walls. Like he was going to use it to cover the walls so he could clean up the scene, then decided not to before he finished.


    Our gear is gone, if it was ever there. There¡¯s no sign of Jeff. I search the scene as carefully as I can with my bots, looking for anything that would help. The men¡¯s faces are generally untouched, other than the blood on them. I commit images of each of them to my index.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need to get in close,¡± Evan says. His voice sounds resolved even though his vitals tell me he¡¯s nervous. ¡°I want to take a look at the bodies with the medical bots.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I say, matching his feigned resolution, ¡°but we better wait until nighttime when there are fewer eyes around. The last thing we need is someone seeing us. Bad enough this was our family, worse still if we end up getting this thing pinned on us.¡±


    ¡°Good thinking man,¡± he says.


    We head back to the truck to make ourselves scarce until dark.

 Sun 06/09 23:11:18 CDT

    Evan pockets the keys and gets out of the truck. My stomach grumbles a little. We haven¡¯t eaten since breakfast, but neither of us were up for eating anything all day after the gruesome scene we¡¯d witnessed earlier with our cloud eyes. I say goodbye to Lin and leave the phone and earpiece in the car. I doubt anyone will be sweeping through all the mobile phone records, but on the off chance that someone in law enforcement here is really on the ball, I don¡¯t want anything tying us to the crime scene if we can avoid it. We get out and walk the distance under the dim crescent moon.


    I¡¯ve got a good grip on the security system by now. Sixteen video cameras are stationed among the rows of identical garage doors covering the sides of each long, squat building. I can feel two people that I guess are the acting security guards. They don¡¯t have any kind of uniform on, so they¡¯re probably regular employees of the place doing double duty keeping an eye on the cameras. They¡¯re sitting in the front office of the place jabbering about last night¡¯s game and occasionally glancing at the pair of screens that rotate through the camera views. A big male doberman roams the fenced off set of narrow asphalt roads. The dog should be the only tricky part.


    The cameras are easy. They¡¯re an old model, simple and stationary. I form an eye near each one, capturing an image of what it¡¯s looking at. Then I form a small bot screen in front of each one that displays the same scene. It¡¯s a simpler version of a technique that my sister Andrea has perfected. She can do moving cameras or motion on the screen, which is way beyond my skills. My eyes in the office show me that the transition was nearly seamless, just a tiny blurring that the two on duty there didn¡¯t notice at all. The RV dealership on this side of the storage units has a couple of cameras pointing in the direction of the storage units. I blind them as well, just to be safe.


    We¡¯re still walking and half a block out from the chain link fence surrounding the storage units. I muzzle the dog as gently as I can with the bots, forming a snug wrapping around the animal¡¯s jaws. That should keep him quiet. He whimpers quietly as I lift him over the fence. Glancing around for a safe place to keep him while we work, I see an enclosed parking area at a warehouse across the street. It¡¯s empty at this late hour. Perfect. I check that there¡¯s no traffic, then float the bewildered animal over and release him inside the fence, keeping the muzzle in place. I don¡¯t want him to freak out and draw attention until we¡¯re done here.


    To Evan: Security handled, we¡¯re good to go in.


    From Evan: Thanks. I¡¯ll get the fence.


    We cut away from the road through the grass separating the storage unit fence from the parking lot of the RV dealership. We talked about just flying over and in, but we figured if we stay low we¡¯ll reduce our chances of getting spotted. Evan extends his cloud and cuts a slice through the chain link, neatly bending the fencing back to make a hole big enough for him and way bigger than what I need. After we pass through, he bends the wire back, closing it enough that no one will notice it.


    We walk to unit 47. The lock is a standard padlock, easily opened with a key made of bots that exactly matches the tumblers in the lock¡¯s cylinder. I slip my hands inside my pockets to help me remember not to touch anything and leave fingerprints, then lift the door. It¡¯s cold inside, much colder than the spring air we¡¯ve been walking through. I kind of expect the smell of rot to overwhelm me, but instead it smells more like a butcher shop. My overlay alerts me that the carbon dioxide content in the air inside is much higher than normal.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    From Evan: I think he left a bunch of dry ice in here with them. Kept them from decomposing for a while. Gave him plenty of time to get out of town before the smell got people curious.


    To Evan: Makes sense. Jeff always was a smart kid.


    We step inside and Evan pops open his box of medical bots. He gets a distant look on his face and stands still. I glance around at the half-hearted attempt at plastic sheeting on the walls and the horrific rusty brown splatter on the walls, floor, and ceiling. The bodies are a gruesome sight, even in the dim light from the sconces between the garage doors. For once, I¡¯m grateful for my deteriorated mind. The less I remember the details of this, the better. I record every detail I can, then I put a note in the index entry for this warning my future self not to access it unless I really need the memory.


    After a wait that seems like hours but is actually minutes, Evan finally snaps back to himself.


    From Evan: Let¡¯s go.


    Hands still in my pockets, I close the door and click the padlock closed. We make our way out and I help Evan to spot weld the wire of the chain link where we came in. Even under close examination, you would be hard pressed to see that it had been cut and repaired. With as careful as we¡¯ve been, I doubt anyone will be checking the fence.


    The dog is still frantically looking for a way back to his home. I carefully envelop his body in a harness of bots and lift him back across the road and inside the Eazy-Stor¡¯s fence. I release the screens blocking the cameras, but I wait until we¡¯re nearly a kilometer away to release the muzzle. I hope I didn¡¯t cause him too much lasting trauma. He immediately starts barking frantically, causing the two men in the office to come out to investigate.


    Perfect.


    I surge a group of bots into the office. As soon as they close the office door behind them on the way out, I disconnect the computer receiving the video feeds. I cut away a computer sized hole in the front window of the office and float the box out, then carefully replace the glass and fuse it so that no one could tell without careful inspection it had ever been tampered with. The computer hurtles down the street past Evan and I and settles gently into the back of our pickup. I just hope they have their surveillance footage for the last few days captured on there. Some systems just stream it live to the screen without storing it, or feed the data to an offsite server for storage. This place looks like it runs on the cheap though, so the most likely thing is that this computer is their whole security system.


    We get most of the way back to the truck when Evan slows.


    ¡°You OK?¡± I ask him.


    In response, he falls to his knees and retches all over the ground. He waits a moment, then heaves again. I¡¯m so glad we didn¡¯t eat dinner. He gets up, spitting and wiping his mouth.


    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m OK now,¡± Evan says as we resume walking. ¡°I think we can call those failed tests. If they¡¯d been showing signs of success, he would have run them longer. My best guess is that they¡¯ve been dead for a little over a day. He would have killed them some time in the afternoon yesterday.¡±


    ¡°So that didn¡¯t give Jeff a lot of time to get in, set up, find them, experiment on them, and kill them. Just a day to do everything?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yeah. Tight timeline,¡± Evan confirms.


    ¡°So where did he go? And where¡¯s all our gear?¡±


    ¡°Dunno man. Let¡¯s watch the surveillance videos and get Lin clued in on what we found. Hopefully she¡¯ll dig something up.¡±


    He turns, bends over, and retches again.


    ¡°Sorry, man,¡± he says, wiping his mouth. ¡°That whole scene was just bad.¡±


    ¡°I know, brother,¡± I reassure him. ¡°I know.¡±

 Mon 06/10 01:19:54 CDT

    ¡°His new car is a pickup truck, a black Dodge Ram 2500,¡± Lin reports through the speaker of my SynTech smartphone on the desk of our motel room. Evan and I got the room for the night in the same complex where Jeff abandoned the van, the one near the Eazy-Stor. It gives me a chance to do a truly comprehensive sweep with my bots on the off chance that he stayed here and left any traces. I¡¯m laying on one of the double beds, searching room by room as we get our update from Lin.


    ¡°The windows are tinted, that¡¯s why the facial recognition didn¡¯t catch him leaving town,¡± Lin¡¯s voice says from the desk by the bed. ¡°Once I got the surveillance footage that showed him getting into his new car, I reran my traffic cam search. There were only six Rams that were the right color leaving the city during the right time window yesterday, and only one had a cargo that could have been your stolen equipment. He¡¯s going east again, on the I-70 freeway towards Kansas City. He changed the license plates on the truck after the video from the storage place. I¡¯ll text you the serial on the new ones.¡±


    ¡°The serial?¡± Evan asks, taking a seat at the desk chair.


    ¡°The numbers and letters on a license plate. It¡¯s called the serial,¡± she says.


    ¡°Sure?¡± I say. I never knew there was a name for those, but she probably looked it up. ¡°Anyway, see if you can find where he stopped next. If we can get there soon enough, maybe we can catch him before he does another test batch.¡±


    ¡°Another test batch?¡± Evan asks, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Is that what we¡¯re calling Jeff¡¯s murder sprees now?¡±


    ¡°No, sorry,¡± I say, sitting up. ¡°I know it¡¯s important to call things what they are. I¡¯m just tired.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s OK, Noah. We know what you meant,¡± Lin says. ¡° We¡¯re already working on tracking him. I¡¯m pulling down more traffic feeds now. Alan arranged the access. He¡¯s very good, you know, and very devoted to you. You chose a good assistant. We¡¯re going to pull an all-the-night here.¡±


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°All-nighter. And yeah, I know he¡¯s great,¡± I say, ¡°I owe him a bonus. He¡¯s been going above and beyond on this stuff.¡±


    ¡°You get some sleep. I¡¯ll have results in a few hours. Just call me when you wake up.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best, Lin,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°I love you,¡± she says. I love it when she says that. I love it even more when she doesn¡¯t care if other people hear it. She doesn¡¯t do it often, though she¡¯s working on that. I know it¡¯s a little uncomfortable for her. Not that she doesn¡¯t love me. I think it¡¯s just a cultural thing.


    ¡°Love you too,¡± I say, floating the phone to my hand and disconnecting.


    Evan looks over at me and grins.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You two are at the ¡®tell each other you love each other in front of other people¡¯ stage!¡± he gushes.


    I throw one of my pillows at him, hoping to knock the goofy smile off his face, but he catches it easily.


    ¡°Evan, I swear sometimes you are a teenage girl in a giant man¡¯s body.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just so happy for you!¡± he says, getting up and laying the pillow back on my bed.


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re so cute. I know,¡± I say with exaggerated exasperation.


    ¡°You really are!¡±


    ¡°I learned it all from you and Valerie,¡± I say. ¡°Now help me search this place. The only interesting thing I¡¯ve seen so far are the roaches.¡±


    We search every room carefully and don¡¯t find anything. I¡¯m still not even sure which room Jeff had been in or if he even stayed here at all. At least we get the roaches cleared out.


    ¡°How much sleep do you need?¡± I ask Evan once we¡¯re done.


    ¡°At least five hours,¡± he replies.


    ¡°Five hours it is,¡± I say, setting an alarm in my console. ¡°See you in the morning.¡±


    Evan sacks out almost immediately. He¡¯s always had an amazing talent for that. I toss and turn much longer than I would have liked, even with electrochemical stimulation from my implant that usually knocks me right out. Images of the corpses keep creeping into my mind¡¯s eye. I¡¯m glad that in a few hours I won¡¯t remember those anymore.

 Mon 06/10 06:46:27 CDT

    ¡°Come on, brother,¡± a voice says. A strong hand shakes my shoulder.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I ask, my eyes struggling to focus.


    ¡°Topeka, but you¡¯ll get that when you read. Get dressed, we need to go.¡±


    I glance around, my vision clear now. I have no idea why I¡¯m in a gross rathole motel or who this big man waking me is. A message flashes across my console overlay that I should trust Evan, along with a picture of him. Recognition clicks and I know my brother again. I nod and get up, then read while I brush my teeth. By the time I¡¯m done, I¡¯m current enough to be functional. I read so fast these days.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the news, Evan?¡± I ask as I slip some deodorant under my shirt.


    ¡°The jet¡¯s on the way to the airport. We¡¯re going to St. Louis. Lin found him there. He¡¯s at another storage locker place, or at least the truck he drove is. And the missing persons reports came in. There weren¡¯t three young men reported missing from here, there were four. Lin¡¯s still getting details, but I bet we¡¯ll see he¡¯s another guy near our age.¡±


    It¡¯s not easy for me to assimilate the new information while I¡¯m still reintegrating with my index and my log, but with some focus I think I understand what¡¯s going on.


    ¡°So he¡¯s got another victim from here? One that he¡¯s still hauling around with him?¡± I ask, using my bots to get my hair in order and tie my shoes.


    ¡°That¡¯s what it looks like, unless he dumped the other body somewhere else for some reason. But I can see him running tests on four variants of the installer at the same time, maybe one worked. Or didn¡¯t fail immediately, anyway.¡±


    I nod and shoulder my pack with yesterday¡¯s clothes in it. We head out and Evan drives us through the dawning streets to the airport. It takes us a few minutes to find the entrance for private flyers, but we get there eventually. It would have been way faster for us to just suit up and fly right to the family jet, but coming in unannounced like that at an airport this size would cause all sorts of attention that we would rather avoid. If Jeff doesn¡¯t know we¡¯re close on his trail yet, the last thing we want is a news report giving us away.


    Cindy is there, somehow cheerful even at this hour. We get in the air quickly, and Evan and I take turns hitting the tiny shower in the plane¡¯s rear bathroom while we fly. I¡¯ve never been back there before, we usually leave it for Cindy and the flight crew, but we both needed the showers. Once we touch down, I get Lin on the line and into my earpiece.


    ¡°Hey, Noah,¡± she says. Her voice is groggy. I must have woken her. ¡°Did you sleep enough?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I slept great. Sorry to wake you,¡± I tell her. ¡°We just got to St. Louis.¡±


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    ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°Give me five minutes to get to our office and I¡¯ll tell you what we found last night. Start heading to the address Evan has in the meantime.¡±


    ¡°We will. Call me when you¡¯re ready. You¡¯re amazing, Lin,¡± I say, disconnecting.


    My phone dings a minute later as we leave the small hanger for private jets. It¡¯s a text from Alan with instructions for our ride. There¡¯s a car waiting for us just around the corner. A bored looking twenty-something guy in a dark jacket hands us the keys to the silver midsize sedan. Evan hands him a tip and takes the wheel. I navigate for him while he drives. We¡¯re just getting onto the freeway when Lin calls back. I put her on speaker so Evan can hear as well.


    ¡°All right,¡± she says, the sleep in her voice gone now. ¡°Once I got those pictures and figured out the victims¡¯ names, I was able to figure out how your brother found them so quickly. There¡¯s a dating app for anonymous encounters that they were all on. Jeff too, with fake everything except his picture. The other missing person that came up last night was in the database for it too. Also, you are going to be an angel investor in the app. It was the only way Alan could get us access quickly. As far as they know, I¡¯m in their live database now so I can evaluate their tech stack.¡±


    ¡°OK,¡± I respond. ¡°Will that cost us a ton? Evan, take that next exit.¡±


    Evan glances at his blind spot and shifts lanes. Interesting, he doesn¡¯t use his bots for situational awareness when he drives like I do. Maybe that sort of thing is why my brain is broken and his still works.


    ¡°Just a couple million,¡± Lin says casually. ¡°But we can back out if I can find any serious flaws in their back end. Alan says not to worry about it, he had one of your finance guys look at it and he thinks we can come out ahead on it. Their technical side is pretty well designed so far, so he might be right.¡±


    ¡°So who¡¯s our survivor from the chainsaw massacre?¡± Evan asks as he takes the exit, his calm, sad voice steering the conversation back to what matters now.


    ¡°Theo Johannes,¡± Lin answers. ¡°Age twenty-four, caucasian, self described twink. Likes tall men and rough-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we need the whole dating profile,¡± Evan interrupts. ¡°What does he look like?¡±


    ¡°Short blond hair,¡± Lin reports. ¡°Blue eyes. Tattoos all along his right arm, mostly some kinds of white people quotes. ¡®Never Be Daunted¡¯ and stuff like that. He¡¯s kind of good looking, in an overly groomed way.¡±


    ¡°OK, we¡¯ll keep an eye out for him,¡± I say.


    Evan slows and pulls up to the curb. I see a sign for Store¡¯N¡¯Go up ahead. I turn on the earpiece and pop it in. I pull my bots in tight and turn on all the detection options in the overlay. If Jeff has working bots, I want to see his before he sees mine.


    ¡°There¡¯s the truck,¡± Evan points out, indicating a pickup parked in front of one of the storage units that we can see from here through the chain link fence. The bed of the truck looks empty from here. Hopefully, Jeff and the gear are inside.


    I get out of the car and form a thousand extra eyes, spreading them out to form a telescope array that NASA would be proud of, straining my brain to get some insight on what¡¯s inside before I put my cloud somewhere that he might be able to detect it. Nothing. If he¡¯s in there, he doesn¡¯t have any bots active. I¡¯d pick them up with this array of sensors running. I relax a little and send in the eyes.


    I don¡¯t get three steps from the car before I see what I hoped not to see.


    ¡°We found him,¡± I tell Lin softly.


    ¡°Jeff?¡± she asks eagerly. ¡°He¡¯s there?¡±


    ¡°No, Theo. The fourth guy,¡± I answer. ¡°We didn¡¯t make it in time.¡±


    I hear Evan retching again behind me.

 Mon 06/10 08:52:03 CDT

    The nightmare in this garage-sized box makes the three corpses in Topeka seem pleasant by comparison. Where the other bodies were largely untouched, other than the cut skulls, this one has been mutilated grotesquely. The entire skull is missing, along with most of the spine. His back is split open, the cuts forming a V on the backs of his ribs. The hair and face are resting a meter away. From the amount of blood splatter, he had been alive when the cutting started. Even looking at it through the bot eyes, my stomach churns.


    I¡¯ve killed before, but only people that deserved it. People like Father, who had murdered quite a few people in his time. Or the folks who were trying to figure out new ways to make my family¡¯s tech into killing machines. This guy, he just flicked the wrong direction on the wrong profile while looking for a good time.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Lin¡¯s voice says in my ear.


    I see the tattoos on his arm, the one saying ¡°Never Be Daunted¡± is turned upwards.


    ¡°Blond hair, fit but slim build, white guy quotes on his arm. Yeah, it¡¯s him,¡± I confirm. ¡°Jeff¡¯s gone, but the body¡¯s fresh. There are a couple of big blocks of dry ice in there with it. From the packaging, they started as twenty pound blocks and they¡¯re still mostly solid. The body isn¡¯t even cold yet. He can¡¯t have been gone long.¡±


    I turn around.


    ¡°Come on man,¡± I tell Evan. ¡°Another autopsy won¡¯t help.¡±


    He nods. We head back to the car, where I sit and navigate a cluster of bots into the office for the place. No computers or security screens here. Shit. There are cameras, and they¡¯re connected to something. I trace the wires back to a router in the office, they must outsource their security and the feeds go somewhere else.


    ¡°Hey Lin, find out who runs security for this place and get camera feeds for that and everywhere that sells dry ice nearby. There can¡¯t be that many. We¡¯re so close, we can¡¯t lose him now.¡±


    I disregard caution and reach out desperately with my cloud, stretching it as far as I can. I push past the limits of sanity by turning every possible feedback mechanism as high as it can go. The last time I pushed this hard I broke my brain for the second time, but I can¡¯t let Jeff continue like this. I feel cars, buildings, people, birds, trees, bugs, and vast stretches of asphalt. My mind is flooded with the sensations, but I¡¯m getting nothing useful. Nothing that feels like the comms channels that the medical bots use, or Jeff, or our stolen gear.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    A splitting headache begins to throb in my skull with every heartbeat. I turn on the diagnostic display to make sure that I didn¡¯t rupture any blood vessels. I¡¯m OK. Blood pressure in my brain is high, but there¡¯s no immediate danger of a stroke. I can do this. I redirect my bots and just check the main routes out of town. The morning rush is thankfully still slowing things down. I ignore any vehicle too small to pack our stolen supplies into. Nothing.


    Wait.


    There. Getting on to the bridge, just about to reach the Mississippi River.


    A gray minivan.


    It¡¯s got faint signals from the same frequencies that the medical bots use emanating from it. I pull the tendrils of bots back from all the other routes and focus on the minivan. I don¡¯t have a lot of bots there yet, but I have enough to press some eyes and mics onto the glass of the windows, giving myself sight and hearing on it.


    Jeff is behind the wheel.


    WARNING! NOREPINEPHRINE/SEROTONIN LEVELS INDICATE MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    Damn straight I have murderous intent.


    Jeff looks terrible. Eyes so bloodshot they¡¯re almost pure red where the whites should be, hair greasy and unkempt, clothes looking like they¡¯d been slept in for a week. The seats in the back have been removed and our stolen gear fills most of the empty space. There''s something else in there wrapped in the same kind of plastic sheeting that lined the walls of the storage unit. It¡¯s about the right size for the missing parts of Theo¡¯s corpse.


    Traffic is slow. I can probably stop him without anyone getting hurt too badly.


    ¡°Drive man,¡± I tell Evan. I form a couple of new eyes near Jeff to read a street sign. ¡°New Chain of Rocks Bridge. As fast as you can. Lin, nevermind what I said before. I found him.¡±


    I¡¯ve almost got enough bots by Jeff¡¯s new van to start breaking things. I just need a few more seconds. I hear a beeping through the mics on the minivan and see Jeff look at a tablet on the passenger seat. I hear snarled curses and watch him reaching over to tap something on the tablet.


    Then nothing. My connection to the bots around him is gone.

 Mon 06/10 09:09:52 CDT

    I¡¯ve still got most of the long tendril of bots snaking out and forming the mesh network between me and the bridge, but now my closest awareness is several hundred meters back from where I had just been. It¡¯s very disconcerting, having my eyes blinded like that.


    ¡°He¡¯s got some kind of jammer,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t get my cloud anywhere near him.¡±


    ¡°Can you block the way ahead?¡± Lin¡¯s voice asks over the speaker phone. ¡°Keep him on the bridge?¡±


    ¡°On it,¡± I say.


    I reach out, extending my cloud out over the Mississippi River on either side of the bridge, careful to leave plenty of space between them and Jeff¡¯s van. I close back in on the bridge, well past the minivan. I reach into engines and carefully but quickly kill several cars by blocking up air intakes. The already slow traffic grinds to a standstill as the cars sputter to a stop. There¡¯s no shoulder on the bridge, no way to get past the jam.


    ¡°OK, he¡¯s stuck,¡± I report. ¡°Get us over there.¡±


    Evan drives as fast as he can, but the traffic rippling back from the stopped cars on the bridge slows us to a crawl before long. He pulls over to the shoulder and we jump out. With a big cluster of my cloud having been taken out by Jeff¡¯s jammer and the rest focused up forming a perimeter around his bot zone, I¡¯m short on bots nearby.


    ¡°I can¡¯t form a flight suit,¡± I tell Evan. ¡°Can you carry me?¡±


    He nods, understanding the situation. He encases himself in a suit and me in a shell that reminds me of the old bulletproof shields we used in Africa. I¡¯ve got my bot senses live so it¡¯s not quite like the sensory deprivation chamber we had then, but the darkness is absolute inside. I make a note to make it easier to take passengers when we fly. This isn¡¯t ideal. I ignore my sensory deprivation chamber and probe the perimeter of the range of Jeff¡¯s jammer. I have him completely surrounded, but I have no idea what he¡¯s doing in there, no matter how many eyes I have looking in on him. When Evan finally cracks me open at the edge of the bridge, I have to blink and shield my face with my hand against the morning sun we¡¯re facing into. I peel back just enough bots to give myself some shade as Evan and I sprint out along the narrow space between the cars and the railing.


    I pull my bots back towards me, navigating the ones on the far side of the jammer around the perimeter of the jam zone so that I don¡¯t lose them. I trail them behind me and park most of them in a pile in sleep mode just before we enter the jammer¡¯s range. I jam a handful into my shirt pocket, turned on just in case I can get the jammer stopped before their connection times out. I see Evan doing the same. I pray to Mom that we can reactivate them when we kill whatever is projecting the strong field of static on all of our control frequencies.


    I traverse the distance of a couple of football fields with a strength born out of my many mornings of running with Andrea. I hear Evan puffing behind me, falling behind. I can finally see the corner of Jeff¡¯s new ride. Jeff steps around in front of it to the narrow shoulder of the road.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do this,¡± I hear Jeff shout, ¡°but you gave me no choice. You¡¯ll want to stop following me if you value the planet.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I bellow back.


    ¡°I left you a recording,¡± the distant figure yells. ¡°You¡¯ll want to listen to it.¡±


    I see him step up onto the concrete barrier on the side of the bridge. It¡¯s a long, long way down to the placid water of the Mississippi, but he jumps without hesitating. I¡¯m torn for a moment between running back to the edge of the jammer¡¯s range or running forward to just turn the thing off. I think the minivan is closer.


    I sprint ahead as fast as I can, thankful again to Andrea for forcing me to become a runner over the last year. Even as fast as I am these days, it feels like it takes forever to get there.


    ¡°He just jumped off the bridge,¡± I puff out to Lin as I run. ¡°The jammer is still going so I can¡¯t do anything about him yet. I¡¯m making a dash for his car, hopefully I can get that thing turned off and take him out now.¡±


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    ¡°Run then!¡± her voice in my ear encourages me.


    I arrive and look over the edge where he jumped. Jeff is down in the water, swimming awkwardly downstream. Part of me wants to just jump in after him and strangle him now, but at this height that¡¯s borderline suicidal and I¡¯m not into that anymore. I¡¯m not sure how he thinks he¡¯s going to avoid getting slagged as soon as I get that jammer stopped, but knowing that it¡¯s Jeff makes me very wary as I approach the van. There¡¯s a tablet sitting on the driver¡¯s seat that I can see as I step towards the passenger door.


    I look around for the jammer. It¡¯s gotta be here somewhere, or at least something that controls it. I saw Jeff reach over to the passenger side with my bots before I got cut off by his jam. I don¡¯t see anything on the seat or floor, so I open the glove box and start rummaging through it.


    Evan catches up and slams open the drivers side door, his breathing harsh and ragged. Nothing in the glove box. I wrangle the rear door open, adrenaline roaring through my system, and start digging through the loose electronics. There are like a hundred random things here and I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m looking for. Evan grabs the tablet from the seat and taps the screen. I hear Jeff¡¯s voice fill the minivan.


    ¡°Hello, brothers and sisters. I do not know which of you are there following me, but it is absolutely imperative that you stop your pursuit now and go back to the storage container. I am certain that you know which one I mean. The nanobots that I planted there will begin uncontrolled self-replicating five minutes from the time I jump from the bridge.¡±


    I stop cold and do a little calculation. Can we even get back to the storage container in time? Maybe, but it would be tight. He¡¯s got to be bluffing. No one would do this. The risk is too great, it¡¯s beyond suicidal.


    No, wait. My index reminds me that he already did it once in Denver.


    ¡°You may be tempted to pursue me instead of handling that situation,¡± Jeff¡¯s voice continues. ¡°It was a calculated risk to put the world at risk like this, but I have every confidence in both your abilities and your judgment. I would remind you that failure to contain the nanobots before they spread widely will certainly doom the world. I have an oxygen tank from our medical supplies and can remain submerged for a very long while, and as you know, our nanobots are largely ineffective underwater. Waiting for me to surface would be a poor choice.¡±


    Dammit. I should have prioritized solving the underwater signaling problem last year. I make a note to get that done if the world doesn¡¯t end today.


    ¡°I sincerely hope that there are more than one of you present,¡± Jeff¡¯s recording continues, ¡°I do not think that one Butler heir could contain an outbreak of freely growing nanobots alone. Oh, and I suppose you will need access to your clouds. You will find the controller for the jammer in the back of the van, it¡¯s the small gray box with the loose wires hanging from it. There are two unlabeled buttons. The larger one will deactivate the jamming field. I do hope you succeed. I have plans for this world, transformational plans, and it would sadden me for it to end this way.¡±


    The recording ends. I find the small push-button controller that matches his description. I seize it and frantically hit the bigger button. How long was I in range of the jammer? Did the bots in my pockets lobotomize themselve?


    I feel the familiar sensation of the bots reconnecting, the reassuring extra appendages that I can feel as if they were my own flesh. I look out over the river and can¡¯t see Jeff anywhere. He must have submerged himself as promised. I¡¯m tempted to wait for him to surface or start scanning the surface of the river, but there¡¯s no time. I sprint westward along the bridge as I reach out with my current tiny cloud, reconnecting to the pile of bots I¡¯d left behind. I feel the software sync them into my distributed robotic body and I¡¯m whole again. They rush towards my biological self and a second later I¡¯m in the air, my flight suit forming around me as it lifts me up. Evan is right behind me. I spread a layer of bots just over the water of the river, hoping Jeff surfaces while I¡¯m still in range, but he doesn¡¯t.


    Other people have gotten out of the nearby cars and trucks, a bunch of them looking out over the edge of the bridge to see what happened to the guy who jumped off, even more of them staring at the two guys that just tossed through the jumper¡¯s van and then flew off like superheroes. I hear sirens in the distance.


    I don¡¯t have time for this. I pull every last bot I have against my skin to force out as much speed as I can. I pull way ahead of Evan. With my larger cloud and his greater mass, he can¡¯t keep up with me.


    From Evan: I¡¯ll catch up, keep going!


    I skim over the tops of buildings, making a straight line back to the Store¡¯N¡¯Go, not caring who gawks at us or how much attention we draw.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening now?¡±  Lin¡¯s voice says in my ear. ¡°I could only hear part of that message. Did he say the end of the world?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t talk now,¡± I reply, not willing to lose any focus even for an instant. ¡°Tell you later.¡±


    I bolt through the sky, pushing myself faster than I thought my cloud could carry me, but I still arrive too late.


    Mom, if you¡¯ve got any pull with the other angels, I could really use some help right now.


    What had recently been the storage unit is now a roiling puddle of dark gray doom.

 Mon 06/10 09:26:41 CDT

    I touch down a few meters away from the edge of the end of the world. It¡¯s growing, but not as fast as I feared. I check my overlays to see how they¡¯re coordinating, but they¡¯re not communicating on any of the channels. They¡¯re each just running their own code, and whatever algorithm Jeff gave them is prioritizing growth over mobility. They¡¯ve been expanding out in a circle from where we found the body earlier. Despite the hot, early-summer sun angling down at us, the air is frigid. The swarm has been pulling ambient heat for the energy it needs to grow.


    Good, there¡¯s still a chance.


    I dissolve my flight suit and put the bots to work. I immediately start cutting a swath through the adjacent storage units, launching the roof and contents as far back away as I can. One has a car which I shove out of the way just in time before the wild swarm starts in on it. The other is full of bicycles and boxes which I unceremoniously start flinging out and away. The concrete underneath and cinder block walls are poor sources of materials for the bots¡¯ self-replication, so I start clearing those last. I¡¯m just glad no one is anywhere nearby. This place seems to be pure self-serve and as far as I can feel, no one but us has been here all morning.


    I have all my bots pull as much energy from the ambient heat as I can and form an opaque disk in the air above the growing swarm, blocking the sunlight. If I can slow the supply of energy and materials the rampaging bots have access to, I might be able to contain the swarm and eventually clear it out. Evan arrives as I finish clearing a firebreak of about a meter around the growing circle of annihilation.


    ¡°Push the perimeter back and take over the sunshade,¡± I shout. ¡°We¡¯ve got to starve it.¡±


    ¡°On it.¡±


    I watch carefully for any bots jumping the break to get to the richer materials, but don¡¯t see any. They seem content to chew up whatever is closest at hand, which leaves them clumped in a giant ball digging into the concrete below them now that the other materials are out of the way. None of them are flying upwards either, which means that Jeff probably disabled their flight routines when he hacked them to grow on their own. Apparently he did mean to leave this as a solvable problem to keep us off of him and not an apocalyptic event.


    I start to dare to hope that the world won¡¯t end today. I let Evan continue to push boxes, bikes and building wreckage back away and focus all of my bots into a tight ring around Jeff¡¯s storage unit. I command growth, and target the wild bots as the only acceptable resource. My bots start feasting on Jeff¡¯s uncontrolled ones. Nothing provides the materials for bots quite like bots. His wild bots seem to have the same idea, but since they¡¯re not coordinating with each other, mine easily surround each of his as they approach and destroy them one by one.


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    The circle stops expanding outwards, although I¡¯m sure the hole they¡¯ve excavated into the ground is deepening by the second. It¡¯s all I can do to contain them around the perimeter. If this goes on, they¡¯ll expand out under my feet and we¡¯ll be lost.


    ¡°Evan, I¡¯ve got them held at the edge of where they are now! Start pushing back in!¡±


    I see his bots stop their work clearing the area and start joining mine at the edge of the circle. I slide my bots in the area to the side to let him take a chunk of the perimeter, which allows me to destroy the wild bots faster than they can replicate along the parts of the border that I¡¯m pushing back on. I¡¯m making progress now, and with my cloud slowly growing as the swarm shrinks back, we should be OK. Eventually.


    It still takes a lot of concentration, but it¡¯s not consuming my whole consciousness anymore. My mind goes back to Jeff in the river and I¡¯m tempted again to try to make another effort to catch him now. But the Mississippi is a good ways off, and chaining a mesh network out that far would cost me way more of my cloud than I can afford to lose right now. Damn Jeff and his clever, psychotic mind.


    ¡°Lin,¡± I say.


    ¡°I¡¯m still here, Noah,¡± her voice in my ear reassures me. ¡°Are you OK?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re OK,¡± I tell her. ¡°I don¡¯t know which parts you heard of Jeff¡¯s video, but he left a gray goo trap for us in the storage unit. Nanobots programmed to expand uncontrollably. We¡¯ve got it contained, but from where the center of the swarm was, I think he left the trap inside the corpse. I need you to have any of the sibs with a cloud get to Topeka as soon as possible and make sure that the other bodies weren¡¯t trapped. Tell them to look for fully dormant bots. They won¡¯t show up on overlays.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ve been watching the police dispatch from Topeka and they discovered the crime scene early this morning. By the time we get anyone there, the corpses will probably be with the police or a medical examiner.¡±


    ¡°Better send a few then. Maybe from the Geologist class. Get them on a flight as soon as you can. I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s commercial or if you have Cindy bring the jet over, whichever is faster. I don¡¯t know what the triggers would be for the traps, if there are any at all, so have them be really careful. Just get them there soon. If there are traps and someone triggers one before we get our people there, we¡¯re all in big trouble.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Lin says. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. Are you going after Jeff?¡±


    ¡°I wish,¡± I exclaim with a sigh. ¡°At the rate we¡¯re going, we¡¯re going to be stuck here for at least another hour to stop this swarm. Jeff took a dive into the river, and all our gear is still sitting back on the bridge. I don¡¯t think we even closed the van doors when we left. It¡¯s probably all stolen by now. We¡¯ll need to track that stuff down and figure out where Jeff went. Want to get Alan working on it? Maybe he can find some local private investigators to help us with both of those things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of that too,¡± she says. ¡°You keep saving the world.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the best, Lin.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she says.


    She disconnects. I turn my focus back to the slowly shrinking swarm.

 Mon 06/10 23:07:19 CDT

    ¡°Sir!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you to just call me Noah over three hundred times. Are you ever going to listen, Alan?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. But I have news that I hope will make you forgive me for that. One of the private investigators has found the contents of the minivan.¡±


    I let out a relieved sigh. ¡°At least something is going right today.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to stop at the bank in the morning. You¡¯ll need fourteen thousand dollars in small unmarked bills. I¡¯ll send you the address where you¡¯ll make the exchange.¡±


    It¡¯s a better price than I could have hoped for. I can only thank Mom that they have no idea what they have is actually worth.


    ¡°Do I even want to know who we¡¯re paying for it?¡±


    ¡°You do not, sir. But I have assurances that everything that was taken is still intact.¡±


    We can definitely afford it, but I¡¯m sure we could just kill or incapacitate whoever has the stuff and take it without any trouble.


    WARNING! LOG TEXT INDICATES MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    Shit. Am I getting worse?


    ¡°We¡¯ll get the money first thing then. Anything else I need to know about tonight?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all, sir. Get some rest. You sound totally exhausted.¡±


    ¡°I only sound like that because I¡¯m totally exhausted.¡±


    ¡°Of course sir. Good night.¡±


    I slip the phone back into my pocket and walk back over to where Evan is putting the finishing touches on the rebuilt storage units.


    ¡°How¡¯s that look?¡± he asks, pointing to the row of garage doors in front of him. The detail work is good and the replacement sections of the building match the original parts pretty well. It took another half an hour of work to restore things, but we figured that was better than leaving a huge half-sphere hole in the ground that might remind the world of how dangerous nanotech can be.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Still too new, but at this point I don¡¯t even care. It¡¯s not like anyone is going to complain that the building doesn¡¯t look just like it¡¯s fifty years old anymore.¡±


    ¡°I guess we can untie the manager and let him out of the office then.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s make sure we¡¯re well out of here before we do though.¡±


    ¡°Would have been nice if he hadn¡¯t come by. I thought we were going to save the world without anyone even seeing a thing.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t see much,¡±  I assure my brother. ¡°Not enough to identify us or know what actually happened here.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here then. I¡¯m starving.¡±


    Evan cuts through the welding that he put on the outer gate of the facility earlier. Once we¡¯re a few hundred meters away I let the restraints I put on the manager dissolve and pull my cloud back toward me. He was only tied up for a few hours, so he should be fine. Not sure what he¡¯s going to tell the owners of the units near Jeff¡¯s trap about why the contents of their storage units are gone, but that¡¯s not my problem.


    I¡¯m just glad no one had called the police while we were dealing with Jeff¡¯s wild nanobots. I¡¯m not sure how many cops I could have dealt with while keeping my focus on bots fighting bots.


    ¡°That looks like it¡¯s open.¡± I say, pointing to an all-night diner up ahead on the corner. ¡°Greasy burgers sound OK?¡±


    ¡°We haven¡¯t eaten since yesterday morning. A burger sounds like the best thing in the world.¡±


    We stumble the rest of the way down the block and get a booth in the corner. The waitress has purple hair and a very low voice. The burgers come out pretty quick and the limp fries taste like salty bites of pure heaven.


    ¡°Next time we stop the world from ending I say we get lunch delivered.¡± Evan dips a fry into his strawberry shake. ¡°It¡¯s the least the world could do for us.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I slump against the window side of the booth. ¡°Can we take nap breaks too? I can¡¯t remember the last time I felt this tired.¡±


    ¡°You probably can¡¯t remember anything at this point.¡±


    ¡°Not much, I¡¯ll admit. Seems like my whole life has been little tiny robots eating little tiny robots.¡±


    ¡°So where do you think Jeff ended up?¡±


    ¡°Could be anywhere by now.¡± I wipe my greasy fingers off on a brown paper napkin and sip the last of my Coke. ¡°Or he could have died when he jumped in the river.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll get lucky and find his body washed up on the banks of the Mississippi. Think it¡¯s too late to call Lin and see how the search for him is going?¡±


    ¡°Lin,¡± I say. ¡°I know that name. She¡¯s the voice in my ear from earlier. How do I know her again? I think I like her a lot. Do you think she might like me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re losing your brain again, brother. You¡¯ll find out all about her again in the morning. You need sleep bad.¡±


    I really do.


    ¡°Come on then.¡± I get up and throw a few twenties onto the table. I don¡¯t know what the bill is but it¡¯s a lot less than that. ¡°Let¡¯s find the nearest set of beds and crash.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t take us long to find a motel and get a room. I check the clock in my brain. Past three in the morning now. I try to remember what I did today without looking back through my log and realize I can¡¯t get much of anything before we ate our late dinner. Why am I so tired? I flop on top of one of the double beds and feel myself fading as Evan pulls off my shoes.

 Tue 06/11 09:23:54 CDT

    The transaction goes as smoothly as I could have hoped for. The two guys keep the minivan, but after I hand them the thick envelope with the cash they help us load all the gear into the back of our pickup. I make sure they don¡¯t open the lidded plastic tub containing the last earthly remains of Theo Johannes. We¡¯ll need to do a comprehensive inventory, but most everything that Jeff wouldn¡¯t have used up looks like it¡¯s here. I don¡¯t think they¡¯re holding anything out on us.


    In retrospect, it was probably lucky that we didn¡¯t lock it and grab the keys. It would have been towed away by the time we were done clearing the swarm and making sure that not a single bot of it remained. Then we would have had to deal with reclaiming a van that wasn¡¯t ours in the first place from an impound lot and maybe having to explain to the local cops why computers marked as our family¡¯s property were in there with some dismembered body parts. That probably would have been harder than getting it back from a couple of opportunistic car thieves.


    In any case, we have all the gear that was in the van back now with us in our motel room. Evan is taking a look at the head and spine now, seeing if he can figure out whether Jeff actually got the implant installer working. The mineral rich parts of the rest of the guy¡¯s body are already in a billion pieces split up among as many bots. Whatever other bits the swarm couldn¡¯t make use of are now an unrecognizable paste at the bottom of the filled in hole in the ground underneath where we rebuilt the storage locker.


    I¡¯m glad no one was around to witness two Butler children saving the world from another Butler child yesterday, but there¡¯s no way that this won¡¯t get out somehow. At the very least there¡¯s got to be video going around of us on the bridge. It won¡¯t take long for someone to recognize Evan or me and start putting things together. We¡¯ll have to call the Feds. There¡¯s no way around it now. We¡¯ll need to report the Butler Treaty violation to the Critical Technology Task Force. At that point, I guess we might as well report Jeff¡¯s murders too.


    I sigh.


    More interviews. More red tape. More people getting in the way of us tracking down our brother.


    I¡¯ll kick that can to later. After we¡¯re home again at least.


    I glance over at my brother, seated on the floor with the lidded tub containing Theo¡¯s remains resting in front of him. His eyes are closed and his face has a look of intense concentration. My overlay shows me that his medbots are hard at work, swarming through the layers of plastic packaging to the brain inside. I¡¯m still not sure why Jeff took the spine too, but honestly, I don¡¯t think I really want to know.


    While he¡¯s working on that, I start in on the inventory of our gear. All the medical bots are missing, along with some of the surgical paraphernalia and a few of the cables. A couple of the tablets are also gone, but all the servers are here. A couple of the diagnostic wireless access points we use for debugging are missing too, but the other three are still here, including the one that Jeff converted into the jammer he used this morning. I think everything else that was stolen is accounted for.


    I look at Jeff¡¯s hacked-together jammer again. If I understand the hardware I¡¯m looking at right, he amped up the transmitter and then just had it blast out white noise on every frequency that it knows. Simple and effective. Clever bastard.


    I haul some gear to the desk and fire up one of the primary servers. The fans on the back of the chassis blast with a loud hum as I connect up the monitor, mouse, and keyboard. This one has the implant auto-installer code. I compare it to the version in my index that Louise showed me, the starting point that Jeff would have had to work with.


    It has changed a lot since Louise last touched it.


    Jeff was always one of the best coders out of all the siblings. Looking at the most recent change logs, I think he solved most of the problems with Smith¡¯s installation. Mostly the code is improved, but some of the changes are just weird. Not just that they¡¯re wrong, it¡¯s more than that. They don¡¯t make any sense. Code that seems to do nothing, variable names that are gibberish, and some data structures that just dangle pointers off into unclaimed memory. Most of it should run fine, but some of it might cause some weird behavior.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    I feel Evan stand up and stretch his arms and legs.


    ¡°How¡¯s it looking?¡± I ask him.


    ¡°Still figuring it out,¡± he says, ¡°but it doesn¡¯t look like what happened with the others. Or with Smith. I¡¯m going through capillary by capillary, looking for the same damage we saw in the others. So far I haven¡¯t seen any of it. It¡¯s hard to tell without having seen it when this poor guy was still alive, but I think Jeff might at least have something here that wouldn¡¯t kill him. The optic nerve interface is all sorts of wonky, but otherwise things look close to right.¡±


    ¡°That tracks with what I¡¯m seeing,¡± I reply. ¡°He¡¯s got the installer code branched into four versions. Three are marked as failures, the last one has ¡®SUCCESS!!¡¯ in all caps in the notes.¡±


    Evan grunts in acknowledgement. He¡¯s still as tired from yesterday as I am. I nod and start examining the code in the success branch carefully as Evan sits back down to delve into the guy¡¯s brain again. The code looks better than the other three branches, fewer of the weird functions and what looks like better adaptability for working generically on any brain. The other big difference is that all the safety protocols that Louise had put into the original installer code are gone from this version. Nothing that checked on the health of the patient was part of this installer.


    ¡°Check this out,¡± I tell my brother. He gets up and comes to look over my shoulder. ¡°There¡¯s this weird Jeffism in the code that installs the optical interface bypass. I think that¡¯s what you were seeing. Here, where it¡¯s supposed to try to find the nerve clusters and feed the extra signals into them to let the implantees see the console overlay and what our eyes see at the same time? This part of the code in that function is all wrong. It¡¯s a complete override. The signals from the biological eye just get thrown away.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Evan says, getting up again. ¡°I guess that would work if you don¡¯t care about seeing with your human eyes anymore. I mean, if you¡¯re OK with just using bot vision this could work.¡±


    ¡°Then I think he might be able to install it on himself,¡± I say, eyes still glued to the screen in front of me. ¡°The rest of this code all looks solid.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking right?¡± Evan asks. ¡°There¡¯s no way he could have worked out all the issues that fast. He hasn¡¯t even had two weeks since Smith, and he¡¯s spent a lot of that on the run. ¡±


    ¡°For real,¡± I reply. ¡°Whatever else you say about Jeff, when it comes to code that kid¡¯s a mad genius.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not great,¡± my brother¡¯s rumbling voice understates.


    ¡°Yeah, not great. On the upside, without all the gear, he¡¯s only got one shot at it. There¡¯s still a chance he¡¯ll accidentally kill himself.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t take the autodoser with him though,¡± Evan says. ¡°Or any of the drugs. There¡¯s no way he could install it.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°you know the part of the software that Louise put in to make sure the subject is anesthetized and immobile?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Evan says, ¡°but that sounds like something she¡¯d put in.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she did, but then he took it out. It¡¯s gone in this version. There¡¯s nothing stopping him from doing it on himself while he¡¯s conscious.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡± Evan asks. ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡±


    ¡°Literally,¡± I agree, ¡°but so is Jeff.¡±


    He pauses.


    ¡°Fair point.¡±


    ¡°So, he may or may not have a working implant by now, and he may or may not be anywhere near St. Louis anymore.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Evan nods glumly.


    I turn to the computer and start the shutdown process. There¡¯s nothing else I need from it before we go home. ¡°Are you getting the feeling like we¡¯re back where we started?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, feels that way. But look on the bright side: we have our gear back, he only has one shot at the install, and if he takes it he could kill himself, or blind himself, or something else terrible that would land him in a hospital. We¡¯d find him for sure then.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the bright side? Hoping for dumb luck?¡±


    ¡°Plus he never got calibrated for the full version of the implant. Even with Father guiding that process it took most of us a long time to get up to full speed. So if he does manage to get a working implant, he won¡¯t be able to do much of anything with it until he figures all of that out. He¡¯ll need specialized hardware and medical supplies and a whole lot of other things that we can use to track him down.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s true.¡±


    My phone rings. It¡¯s a text from Lin.


    Still nothing on the search of the river, and the private investigators say they have checked everywhere. If he came to shore, it wasn¡¯t anywhere near St. Louis.


    I show it to Evan. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here. I want to go home.¡±

 Tue 06/11 18:14:52 CDT

    ¡°My, but you¡¯re keeping us busy these days,¡± Cindy exclaims as we board.


    ¡°Got to make up for the last few months, right?¡± Evan laughs.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s fair,¡± Cindy says. ¡°I did miss you boys something terrible.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say, taking my seat. ¡°I have a feeling that you¡¯ll be sick of us soon.¡±


    ¡°Tired of Tom¡¯s kids? Never!¡± She gives my shoulder a pat. ¡°Any food for you this evening?¡±


    ¡°We had dinner already, but if you have some desserts I wouldn¡¯t say no to that,¡± Evan says. ¡°Whatever you have handy is fine.¡±


    I nod in agreement.


    ¡°Well then you get my specialty. Two brownie sundaes, coming up,¡± she says, disappearing into the back of the plane.


    Once we finish our sundaes, which are fantastic, Evan and I spend the rest of the flight trying to figure out where Jeff might have gone or what he might be planning. Despite a whole mess of reports from the small army of PIs that Alan hired, nothing seems even remotely useful. Our last call with Alan and Lin also came up with no leads. Lin expanded her camera network all over the greater St. Louis area and still didn¡¯t spot him anywhere. My guess is that Jeff has probably figured out by now how we tracked him down and won¡¯t make the same mistakes again.


    I wish we could find something on him now. If we wait until he gets the implant working, it¡¯ll be even harder to track him. He won¡¯t even need to take the roads anymore. He¡¯ll be able to just suit up and fly at freeway speeds to wherever he wants to go.


    So back home we go. There¡¯s no point sticking around here anymore. We hadn¡¯t heard from the Geologists when we took off. Hopefully they¡¯ll have something good to tell us about the corpses in Topeka when we pick them up. Well, as good as news about dead bodies can be.


    Evan and I have just about finished describing all the ways we failed to each other when the plane lands. Stan, Phil, Steph, and Lisa hop on.


    ¡°Good news, big brothers,¡± Steph declares, her two big puffs of hair bouncing as she flops into her seat.


    ¡°Lay it on us,¡± Evan says.


    ¡°There was a trap in one of the bodies, but we got it,¡± Phil says.


    ¡°Nice,¡± Evan says, giving him a fist bump.


    ¡°So what did it look like? What kind of trigger did it have?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Take a look,¡± Stan says, placing a small box on the narrow table. ¡°It was stuffed deep down the trachea of one of the bodies.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you get it?¡± I ask. ¡°Or do I want to know.¡±


    ¡°Probably better if you don¡¯t know,¡± Steph laughs in a way that makes me really want the whole story.


    ¡°Just tell me no one got hurt and there was no property damage you didn¡¯t fix.¡±


    ¡°No one got hurt,¡± Lisa says. ¡°And I fixed the hole in the morgue wall. No one will know we were there.¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I give her a quizzical look.


    ¡°It was a small hole.¡± She puts up her hands defensively. ¡°Hardly noticeable.¡±


    ¡°Well, good work,¡± Evan says.


    I pick up the box and open the lid. There¡¯s a mesh container surrounding the contents, a faraday cage to block electronic signals. Smart precaution. I sync back up with some of my sleeping bots and form a similar but much larger conductive cage around both myself and the box. Safely encapsulated, I tear down the small cage in the box and take a look at Jeff¡¯s creation.


    It¡¯s tiny, smaller than a grain of rice, with an antenna wire that¡¯s around the thickness of a human hair and several centimeters long. I think it¡¯s dormant. At least, it¡¯s not emitting any signals on any frequency I can see. No wonder we missed it, especially since Evan was focused on the brains when we saw the corpses. There are a pair of worker bots connected by very fine wires to a miniscule microcontroller and a tiny battery for power. After carefully documenting the setup in my index, I disconnect all the parts from each other and drop the cage.


    ¡°Thanks for keeping it intact for me,¡± I tell them. ¡°It¡¯s safe now. I¡¯m going to send the controller to the dev team to see if they can pull any code off of it. We¡¯ll check out the bots at the lab at home.¡±


    I repurpose the box that Stan had packed it in, putting the antenna, battery, and controller back inside and rebuilding the cage, just in case. I seal up the top and etch the address of the SynTech office onto the side. I make another box from materials I cannibalize from my cloud and pack up the pair of Jeff¡¯s nanobots for when we can examine them back at the lab on campus.


    ¡°Hey Cindy,¡± I call out.


    ¡°Yes, Noah?¡± she says, emerging from the cockpit. ¡°We¡¯ll be just a few minutes waiting on an available runway before we can go again.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell her, ¡°but can you get this delivered to Chuck at the SynTech office as soon as you can?¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± she says with a smile as she accepts the box. ¡°There¡¯s a courier service with a drop-off here at the airport. Let me get this to them and I¡¯ll be back in time for takeoff.¡±


    She bustles off out the boarding door with the package.


    ¡°So, any problems getting it?¡± Evan asks our younger sibs.


    ¡°Nothing we couldn¡¯t handle,¡± Phil says.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Lisa adds. ¡°We just parked near the morgue and reached in with our clouds. Phil kept watch while we each took a body. Steph found the thing in one of them, the other two didn¡¯t have anything.¡±


    ¡°Well good work, all of you,¡± I tell them. ¡°You might have saved the world today.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re doing that on the regular these days,¡± Evan says. He gives them a quick version of the events in St. Louis.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Steph says. ¡°I guess no more of you two going off on your own then. You¡¯re going to need more backup.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agree. ¡°I feel like an idiot. If we¡¯d brought more people with us we could have caught him and we¡¯d be done with this nightmare.¡±


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe Jeff would do all of this,¡± Stan says. ¡°I mean, I know he did, but he was always nice to me. He was weird, but he was never bad until he went crazy and killed Father.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± I say, instinctively bracing myself for a wave of guilt that doesn¡¯t come. It should be hard, knowing that Jeff¡¯s current state is all my fault, but I just don¡¯t feel anything where the shame used to be. ¡°He and I got along alright too, but he¡¯s not the guy you remember. He¡¯s out there killing innocent people. And he¡¯s a danger to the world.¡±


    I fill them in on the details of Jeff¡¯s bot swarm and how Evan and I stopped it. They all nod soberly. The room gets quiet. Cindy returns and takes a look around.


    ¡°Did somebody die while I was out?¡± she asks. ¡°You all look lower than a bunch of bow-legged caterpillars.¡±


    It¡¯s funny how little we tell her. As far as she knows, we¡¯ve been running around for fun or routine business these days.


    ¡°We¡¯re all right,¡± I reassure her. ¡°Just talking about some family business. How long until takeoff?¡±


    ¡°Should be just a minute now. I saw the last plane before us on our runway taking off when I got back,¡± she says. ¡°As soon as Bob goes through the system checks, we should be ready to go.¡±


    We¡¯re in the air soon. We spend the flight talking about the automine tech the Geologists have been working on. They should revolutionize mineral extraction, allowing near-perfect collection of every useful thing a mining site can provide with no pollution or unusable byproducts. I knew they were all smart generally, but as the conversation gets into their domain of expertise, I realize how brilliant they really are. Say what else you will about Father¡¯s methods, they sure get some amazing results.

 Thu 06/13 09:53:14 PDT

    ¡°Maria Hall?¡± I ask. ¡°With the Critical Technology Task Force?¡±


    ¡°Yes, this is Maria. Who is calling?¡±


    ¡°This is Noah Kimball from the Butler Institute. I¡¯m not sure if you remember me, but we met earlier this year when you came to investigate the theft of some nanotech from our campus.¡±


    I hear a brief silence then a clattering on the other end of the line, first a heavy thunk then a pattering like a bunch of pens falling onto a desk. Maria¡¯s muffled voice comes over the line, barely audible but full of intensity. ¡°It¡¯s him! I told you he¡¯d call!¡±


    Is she talking to someone else on the task force there?


    ¡°Maria?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m here.¡± Her voice is normal again, but the sound of plastic on glass tinks along with her words. I try to piece together a mental picture matching the sounds to what was happening on the other end of the phone call. A mug full of pens being knocked over as she turns to a coworker. Clumsy? Or just very excited? A hand over the phone as she whispers to the unknown other party. I¡¯m having trouble making sense of the why of it though. ¡°Noah Kimball. I remember you well! I saw one of your press conferences a couple of weeks back. Something about a new way to do mining, was it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s our next big initiative to help preserve life, end suffering, and elevate humanity,¡± I respond, falling back on the Butler Institute¡¯s credos. ¡°Anyway, I was wondering if you had a minute to talk about an update on the theft we talked about back in January.¡±


    ¡°He said the thing!¡± Her muffled voice again. ¡°Just like Chad used to!¡±


    I wonder if she thinks I can¡¯t hear her when she does that. I guess not everyone employs nanobot-enabled audio compensators when they use the phone.


    ¡°Certainly!¡± Her normal voice again. ¡°I¡¯m glad you called me directly. What happened and how can we help?¡±


    I lay out some of our investigation, starting with the drug thefts in Topeka. No need to connect the lines back to my grandparents. I tell her about the bodies, following Jeff¡¯s trail to St. Louis, the events on the bridge, and a much less terrifying version of what happened at the storage locker - only that a few rogue nanobots had been activated and that we had eliminated them. She listens with only a few clarifying questions until I finish.


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    ¡°Well,¡± she finally says. ¡°That is quite a bit more than I expected to hear.¡±


    ¡°I know. We should have involved you as soon as we found a lead on my brother.¡± I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true at all, but it¡¯s the best line I can think of to assuage the potential blowback of any of this on us. ¡°We were just pressed for time and didn¡¯t want to lose him. We thought we could handle it. We didn¡¯t know he had any live nanotech active. He must have hacked through all the protections on the nanobots he stole.¡±


    Another blatant lie, but there¡¯s no way the task force can prove otherwise and it should cover for Louise¡¯s massive lapse in judgment.


    ¡°You certainly should have called us as soon as you had any new information,¡± Maria replies. ¡°You poor kids have been through enough, and having something like this happen to you on top of everything else¡­¡±


    She trails off and goes silent for a long twenty-one seconds. Kids?


    ¡°Well. I am going to help you get this fixed. We are going to take care of everything. The whole CTTF and every resource we can mobilize will be working on this until we make sure this problem is resolved!¡±


    That was not what I expected at all, but I¡¯ll take it. The interference will probably complicate our lives, but if I understand the way the CTTF is structured right, I think they can literally call on the whole US military if they declare an emergency. That¡¯s some serious extra firepower if we need it.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°Are you at the Butler Institute campus now?¡±


    ¡°We are.¡±


    ¡°Good. Stay there. My boss, General Whitman, will be visiting you within a few days. In the meantime, we¡¯re going to find your brother.¡±


    I¡¯ll be incredibly surprised if they can pull that off, but if he¡¯s under a nationwide manhunt even someone as smart as Jeff might trip up and get himself caught. At the very least it should slow him down and cut off a lot of his options. The only danger is if they track him down and he feels cornered enough to release uncontrolled nanobots again. I don¡¯t know what kind of secret tech the military might have put together over the last twenty years to deal with a wild nanoswarm, but my bet would be that it¡¯s geared toward the kind of outbreak that Father took care of in the original Gray Goo Incident. The nanobots we use have evolved pretty considerably since then in both capabilities and materials. I doubt their techniques would work against the kind of free-breeding Butler bots Jeff released in St. Louis and I¡¯m absolutely certain it¡¯s not as good as what we can bring to bear.


    ¡°If you do find him,¡± I tell her. ¡°Please don¡¯t engage with him without us there. If he activates any more rogue nanobots, I want to make sure we can help contain and eliminate them.¡±


    She lets out a sympathetic sort of an ¡°aw¡± sound, like people make when they see a child trying to be helpful at something far beyond their abilities. ¡°That is so brave of you. But don¡¯t you worry. We¡¯ll handle everything.¡±


    Well, shit. Did I just make things a whole lot worse?

 Thu 06/13 19:11:55 PDT

    ¡°I¡¯ve never done this with anyone. Well, with Evan for a little while, but even with him I didn¡¯t give him full access to everything at the same time.¡±


    Lin nods, her beautiful dark eyes serious. ¡°I appreciate the demonstration of confidence.¡±


    I double check that the wifi card and antenna are missing from the customized tablet. The USB port is also gone, replaced with the custom port that I plug the cable into. I hand the tablet to Lin and insert the other end of the cord into the side of the satchel housing my processing appliance.


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    READ/WRITE FILE PERMISSION GRANTED


    Lin taps the tablet¡¯s screen until the live feed shows up on the display. A smile creeps across her lips.


    ¡°You think I have beautiful eyes!¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ve told you that before.¡±


    ¡°But you really think it. It¡¯s right here in your thoughts that you write down.¡± She lowers the tablet and looks up at me. ¡°It¡¯s really true. You do write down everything you see, hear, and think. How do you write all this so fast?¡±


    ¡°Lots of practice. Also possibly some neural specialization that costs me a little bit of my standard humanity.¡±


    She looks back at the tablet, smiling as the words appear in front of her. ¡°Standard humanity is clearly overrated. You, my handsome boyfriend, are much better than standard. You are exceptional.¡±


    She scrolls back through my memories of the day as I look on, smiling at a few things. Her lips turn down into a frown as she reaches this morning. ¡°Who is this Maria Hall? She seems very friendly.¡±


    I vaguely remember having a conversation with someone with that name, but it¡¯s been too long to recall any details. My index entry for her pops into my overlay. Lin¡¯s tablet screen still just shows the console logs. I think we could mirror the whole overlay with some additional work, but this is probably fine for now. ¡°Deputy Chief of the Critical Technology Task Force,¡± I read to her. ¡°She¡¯s our point of contact with the government¡¯s task force in charge of stuff like nanotechnology.¡±


    Lin scans through the whole conversation from this morning. Her frown fades. ¡°Oh, she wasn¡¯t flirting with you. She¡¯s a Chadette.¡±


    I don¡¯t know that word, and the only thing that comes up when I search my index for it is a reference to a joke we made about what Keeya and Lucie might have named Chad¡¯s unborn baby if he had been a girl.


    ¡°A what now?¡±


    ¡°You know, one of those women who worship your late brother Chad on the internet.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know that was a thing.¡±


    ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t. You haven¡¯t spent years honing your skills in the fine art of lurking in the dark corners of social media and discussion boards where extreme fans idolize the heroes of the Butler Institute.¡±


    ¡°And you did? Are you secretly one of these Chadettes?¡±


    ¡°Certainly not.¡± She lets out a trilling peal of laughter. ¡°I¡¯m a Noan for life. Obviously.¡±


    ¡°Please tell me that¡¯s not what my fans call themselves.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Sorry. At least it¡¯s better than the Evies or the Markers.¡±


    I groan. ¡°Those can¡¯t be real things.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they are. The Chadettes are the most numerous group, of course, with all the press appearances he did with his work in Africa, but it all started with the Tommies. They¡¯ve been around forever, perhaps twenty years.¡± Tommies? Ew. Father¡¯s PR team must have manufactured that as part of their image boosting efforts. There¡¯s no way that fandom could have come about naturally. ¡°Then after all those pictures and videos came out from the trip to East Africa that you all took, quite a few of Tom Butler¡¯s lady fans split off to venerate each of his sons. I mean, can you blame them? You are a very attractive bunch of young men. There were even a few Jeffies, although I think they essentially disappeared after the stories came out about your father¡¯s untimely demise.¡±


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    ¡°I suppose my sisters have something comparable?¡±


    ¡°They most certainly do. Do you not know about the Church of Louise and the Andrean Cult websites?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to.¡±


    ¡°You probably don¡¯t. The art on those forums is, um, very creative? I don¡¯t know a nice way to say it. They like to edit pictures so that they¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it and let¡¯s never talk about that again.¡± I shudder. ¡°There are things I just don¡¯t want to know about.¡±


    She runs a finger across the tablet. ¡°We could always delete this whole conversation, right?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°No, let¡¯s not do that. The last time I did major revisions to what I decided to remember, it didn¡¯t end well for me. That wasn¡¯t very long before we met. I¡¯ll let you read all of that later if you¡¯re ever feeling too happy and want to bring things way down.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Hmm. Well, what about this?¡± Her fingers tap across the touch screen.


    Can I just put thoughts right into your head?


    ¡°Well, I suppose you can. I didn¡¯t think about that, but you¡¯ve got full access so yeah, I guess so.¡±


    Oh how wonderfully delightful. I am Noah and here¡¯s what I think about: I so love this amazing and beautiful and fascinating woman who I have fully committed to loving forever and will never ever get tired of. And also I would never dream of cheating on her because she¡¯s the best thing that ever happened to me.


    I laugh again. ¡°If you¡¯re going to do that, you could at least make an effort to write like me. Maybe go take a lesson from Evan. I think he nailed my voice when he helped me get back my memories from after I met him but before the implant was installed.¡±


    She lowers the tablet and lays it on the desk next to my satchel. She takes a step toward me and entangles my arms in hers. The warmth of her body presses against mine. ¡°Or you could just write that sort of thing yourself. Then I wouldn¡¯t have to.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not far off of that in a few places,¡± I say between kisses. ¡°I¡¯ll let you read through the whole thing before you start making requests for new fake memories for me to put in my head.¡± I slide my hand down her back and past the curve of her waist. ¡°Of course, we could always make some real memories that would be better reading if the ones I have now aren¡¯t quite romantic enough for you.¡±


    She smiles and doesn¡¯t remove my hand like she usually does when it lingers there too long. ¡°Maybe we could.¡± She kisses my neck again. ¡°Although I reserve editorial privileges. I would want the memories to be absolutely perfect.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say dreamily, bringing my other hand down, brushing the side of her face, running my fingers along her slender neck and then down lower to start unbuttoning her blouse. ¡°Whatever you want.¡±


    She pulls her hand down from where it had been caressing my shoulder and holds back my fingers before they can finish undoing the clasp at the front of her bra. I almost finish the job with my bots before I manage to stop myself.


    ¡°Lin, I¡­¡±


    I step back and untangle my arms from hers.


    ¡°I just¡­¡±


    I can¡¯t make myself say the words. How do you explain to the person that you love that you¡¯re afraid you¡¯ll do more than what they want, that you¡¯ll take what they aren¡¯t willing to give, and that you know that afterwards you won¡¯t even feel guilty about it. I¡¯m trying so hard to be the kind of man that Mom would have wanted me to be, but I just don¡¯t know if I can. Not with my broken mind. Not with all this power that I¡¯m having more and more trouble not using to just take what I want.


    And I want Lin. I want her so badly. I want her now. I want her forever. And I know that she won¡¯t want me anymore if she knows how much I want to do what her delicate little hands keep stopping me from doing. What if I can¡¯t stop myself anymore?


    Maybe you won¡¯t need to. That was quite romantic enough.


    I look up and see Lin with the tablet in her hands again. My face goes bright red. I got so caught up in the moment that I forgot that my whole console is mirroring itself onto her screen.


    ¡°I think I might be ready, Noah. Not tonight, but very soon I think.¡± She smiles shyly at me as her fingers tap across the surface again.


    You wanted me to help write you a new conscience. Let¡¯s start with this. You know how hard it is to talk about any of this, to say yes or no to anything while we¡¯re in the moment, but I think if it¡¯s all written into the code, I will find it all more comfortable. I¡¯ll define what you can and can¡¯t do with me. What you can and can¡¯t do to me. As long as you don¡¯t do what your own electronic part of your brain is telling you not to do, we can make this work.


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure,¡± I tell her. ¡°I¡¯d like that. I¡¯d like that a lot.¡±


    ¡°Then let me start coding. This may take a bit, but I promise I will make it worth it to you. I¡¯ll put my utmost effort into it. I want this to work forever as much as you do.¡±

 Fri 06/14 09:42:09 PDT

    ¡°Sir? You¡¯ve got a video call waiting. Mr. Antonio Campos. He says it¡¯s important. Should I put him through? He insists on extra encryption for the call.¡±


    The index entry pops and I¡¯m reminded of the Brazilian robber baron turned philanthropist turned presidential candidate and our past dealings with him. What on Earth does he urgently need from us? His environmental cleanup work has everything it needs from a technical standpoint. We already told him we won¡¯t do anything beyond our original nanotech licensing deal to help him win the presidency of his country, and with the election four months away I can¡¯t imagine he has a lot else on his mind right now.


    ¡°Sure, Alan. Send him to my desk.¡±


    Interesting that he doesn¡¯t feel like the standard encryption we¡¯ve used when we¡¯ve talked before is enough for this call. I check my appearance before enabling the extra encryption measures and turning on the camera. I¡¯m looking as good as possible in one of the new shirts Lin gave me. I hit the button and the video call connects. Antonio¡¯s handsome face and perfect dark hair with silver highlights fill my screen.


    ¡°There you are, my young American friend!¡± He¡¯s as charming as always with his accent just thick enough to decorate his words. I didn¡¯t love the way we were introduced, with Dorothy using him to fund the development of our stolen intellectual property, but my notes in his index entry remind me how pleasant he is to deal with directly. ¡°I was afraid you would be too busy to speak with your favorite customer.¡±


    Still my only customer, as far as licensing our family¡¯s nanotech is concerned, but I don¡¯t mention it. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Mr. Campos.¡±


    ¡°Antonio, please!¡±


    ¡°Of course. Antonio.¡± I make a note in his index entry so I¡¯ll address him that way next time. ¡°How¡¯s the solution we set up for you working out? I heard good things about your Amazon basin cleanup efforts.¡±


    ¡°So good! So good!¡± His smile reveals blindingly white teeth. ¡°We did so well, we¡¯re actually moving our crews on to some new projects over in the Atlantic. The ocean water in the Caribbean needs the, ah, washing. Just like you and I did in the Pacific, no?¡±


    I smile back, suppressing a chuckle. To compare his efforts to ours in solving the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is more than a little disingenuous, since his crews all combined accomplished less than a tenth of what Andrea, Evan and I got done, but I¡¯ll let him have it. He did contribute to solving the problem, and he¡¯s done even better environmental work since he got a nanotech baseline from us that¡¯s not complete junk.


    ¡°Sounds like a noble effort,¡± I tell him. ¡°And one that will probably give you some nice PR for your presidential campaign.¡± He gives me a grin and a nod at that. ¡°You¡¯ll have to let me know how it goes. Did you need anything from us? I would think the software and firmware packages you have now should work just fine for another ocean cleanup project.¡±


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that. My call today, it is entirely for your benefit.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°First, I am going to tell you a thing. A little while back, when I first started doing business with that terrible woman whose name I do not need to mention,¡± he begins. He didn¡¯t seem to think Dorothy was terrible back when he was working with her, but I appreciate that he¡¯s changed his tune on her without even knowing how low she had sunk before I killed her. ¡°It was before anyone in the world knows that she and I were to do any work together. Or so I think. But I was approached by a very unusual fellow who seemed very interested in the sort of thing that woman and your father worked on. The little robots.¡±


    ¡°How was that unusual? A lot of people are interested in nanotech.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. Of course I know that. But the people that are interested, they are mostly the ones that want to make it. Or sometimes the ones that want to make it illegal. But this man, this very strange man, he wanted something else. He offered me ten billion of your US dollars to make a¡­ how do you say it? A small disaster. With the nanorobots.¡±


    I perk up. This is much more interesting than the conversation I thought I would be having when this call started. ¡°What kind of disaster? Did he say?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he was very specific. It needed to look like that big disaster from the history books. The one with your father, when the first little robots had their big problem. It needed to be so big, so that so many people would see it. It needed to kill so many people, but to not be so big that it would not stop before it would kill the whole world. Better that it be on an island, far from everyone. But it needed to have a lot of the news cameras and such. And so on and so on and so on. It was a very strange thing this man wanted.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A limited Gray Goo event? Why would anyone want that? ¡°What did this man look like?¡±


    ¡°He looked like he was from somewhere in Asia, but he spoke very well in my language, the portugu¨ºs brasileiro. Not so tall. Not so short. A little older.¡±


    Do I dare to hope?


    ¡°Any chance he gave you his name?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it was years ago, and I have trouble remembering. He only gave his last name, and it was something short. I remember that. Wei or Lu or¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wu?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. That was it. Wu. He call himself Senhor Wu. Did he come to speak to you as well?¡±


    To Evan: Got a lead on Mr. Wu! My office! Now!!


    I force my face to remain calm. ¡°In a manner of speaking. We may have run into the same man when we were on one of our trips last year.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, the cleaning of that great river. So sorry again for the loss of your brother. What a terrible accident that was.¡±


    ¡°But I take it you turned down this man¡¯s offer?¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course! I had plenty of money, and if something like that were to be traced back to me? How could I ever recover from that?¡±


    He puts his hands up in a gesture of helplessness. No mention of the lives lost or potential for things to go wrong and trigger complete global destruction. For all his charm, Antonio might be more sociopathic than I am, and he comes by it completely naturally.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it would have been very difficult, Antonio,¡± I respond, not sure what else to say. Maybe a little flattery. ¡°You and I would never have had the chance to do all our good work together. And your political career? Forget about it.¡±


    Evan comes running through my open office door, panting to catch his breath.


    To Evan: Come around. You¡¯ll want to hear this.


    He quiets his breathing as he comes to my side of the desk, where he can see the screen but is still off camera.


    ¡°Yes. Yes. You understand. So.¡± Antonio cocks his head. ¡°I send this man away. This very strange man. But I think this is not the end of this man and me. So I have men very good at, how do you say it? The watching of people. The spying. And I find out a little bit more about this man.¡±


    Well that¡¯s better than we ever did, but it probably helped a lot that Mr. Wu was alive to follow around and all of that.


    ¡°Can you tell us what you know about him?¡± I try not to sound as eager as I am.


    ¡°As I say, it was just a little bit that I come to know. He works for a group they call themself the Center for Progress and Peace. He seems to be in charge of finding where they discover new things, new technologies, and then he makes them not be new things.¡±


    That answer doesn¡¯t make any sense, but finally, we have a real name for the illuminati!


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, let me give you one example my men find out about. This was back maybe ten years ago. A university professor in Columbia comes up with a new way to process crude petroleum. A way that makes it so you don¡¯t need one of the big, smelly refineries. You just do this thing right where you pump the oil, it makes a nice clean fuel and then the stuff, you know, the stuff they make into plastic. I don¡¯t know the name in English. Nafta? You understand what I tell you?¡±


    I consult the chemistry section of my digital brain for the crude oil distillation byproduct that gets made into plastic.


    ¡°Naphtha. Yes, I¡¯m following you.¡±


    ¡°So it would be a big change, this new thing the professor invents. A big good thing to make less pollution, to make it so more people get fuel, to make you not need so many big ships to carry the oil to the refinery then the fuel away from the refinery. To make things not cost so much. But for the men who own the refinery? Maybe not so good. So much money they spend to make the refinery, and now it makes them no money at all.¡±


    From Evan: I see where this is going. It all makes perfect sense now.


    He¡¯s doing better than I am. I don¡¯t understand what any of this has to do with our family¡¯s tech or why they would want to trigger another Gray Goo event.


    ¡°So this man, this Senhor Wu, he comes to the university where this professor works. He offers him money. Lots of money. He wants to buy the new technique. The professor, he no wants to sell. He just wants to make the world more good. And then, this professor is gone. No one knows where he goes to. No one can find his work. His research, his papers, his computers? All gone.¡±


    ¡°Center for Progress and Peace, huh?


    ¡°Yes. It is funny how sometimes they put the name on the thing that is not what the thing will do.¡±


    ¡°So refineries pay these guys to make sure that new technology won¡¯t disrupt the oil industry?¡±


    ¡°No. Well, yes. But no. The oil. The refinery. This is a small thing. The everything else, that is the big thing. When I have my company and make my fortune, mine was a big company, but not so big. Small so that it was just in my country, just owned by me. But the big companies, the ones that are so big they are in all the world, those are so big so that my company looks tiny. They are great whales in the ocean, and my company is a tiny little fish. And they want to make sure they stay big and powerful. So they each give just a little money to this Center for Progress and Peace. I say a little money, because it is a little to them. It would be very much to even me. But they pay to make it so that all the new things, the things that can really change the way the money goes, they only can come to the world if they make the big companies bigger.¡±


    Which puts us right in their crosshairs. Father¡¯s plan would eventually make global megacorporations as extinct as the dinosaurs.

 Fri 06/14 10:24:47 PDT

    How many times had the Center for Progress and Peace tried to take Father down in the past? Are they the real reason Father insisted that the SynTech engineers build him a literal arsenal he could carry in his head and advanced systems for detecting threats?


    Wait. Is SynTech paying into this fund to make sure that no one gets to make any world-changing new technology but us? I make a note to check on that later, as well as to see if Father¡¯s intel resources already include anything on the illuminati now that we know it¡¯s real name.


    ¡°This was not the reason that I call you today,¡± Antonio goes on. ¡°But I think you need to know it so that what I do want to tell you makes sense. Let me go on. So I tell the Senhor Wu no, and he doesn¡¯t bother me again for some years. I go about my business with that woman. I spend a lot of money, we make the system with the little robots, we find the people to work with the little headsets, we go to Hawaii, we have a nice time, la la la. We meet you wonderful young people. You know all this. Then she and I have to go our different ways, with thanks to you. Then, just a few weeks after that, I find that someone is trying to kill me.¡±


    He holds up his hands again as if in complete surprise. According to my index, this wouldn¡¯t have been anything new. He made quite a few enemies in his younger years before he decided  that philanthropy and leadership made a better legacy for him than the brutal acquisition of enormous wealth.


    ¡°And it was not just one someone trying to kill me, which I suppose does happen to anyone from time to time, but many someones. Of course, I could not have this. After the second attempt, my security team caught the fellow, but before we could have a nice conversation about why he would want to do such a terrible thing, the gentleman¡¯s head just, eh, explode.¡± His fingers lift up in front of his face, then flick outwards. ¡°Nothing left. But we did some of the DNA test and all of that and that let us find his mother, and that let us find the money he had been paid, and my accountants did some very clever things which finally let us find out that it was, are you ready to be surprised? This Center for Progress and Peace that had paid him. Which of course made me very, very curious about them.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    ¡°So, I put my best men on it. I find the office that seems to be the home for them. I tell you now, it is not the place that they put on their website. I put some other men to try to get jobs at the Center. To go under the covers. It does not work. They are very, very picky. I do the watching of the phone calls, of the emails, of the garbage that goes out from the office and from the homes of the people that work there. I even find some pretty young ladies to see if any of these fellows might talk in their sleep. I find nothing. All neat and clean. As if they never did the many things that I knew that they did.¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Like they had a lot experience at covering their tracks?¡±


    ¡°Exactly that! Exactly! My men had never seen anyone so good at making it seem they had done nothing. But then, we had a bit of luck. One of the men from the Center, one of the very important ones, needed a little bit of surgery. Nothing so big, one of those that older gentlemen have when they check for cancer in the¡­ what is the polite way to say it? In the back of the side?¡±


    From Evan: Colonoscopy.


    ¡°A colonoscopy?¡± I parrot.


    ¡°Ah, yes, that is the one. And we, being the well prepared boys and girls that we were, we found that an appropriate donation to the proper medical professionals let us not only remove a very ugly little device implanted into the base of his neck, but also we were able to invite him to live at my house near Brasilia as my guest.¡±


    An image of Antonio¡¯s Brasilia home flashes across my overlay. It¡¯s more of a walled military compound than a standard house, and I don¡¯t doubt for an instant that it has some very appropriate rooms in the basement for holding an unwilling guest or two.


    ¡°What luck that you were able to extend that invitation. And I take it that some of what your guest had to say involved us?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Oh! Yes it did! Which is, I suppose you have now guessed, the reason that I have called you today. He had a very great deal to say about you and your Butler Institute. Especially, he had many things to say about your brother, the one that took that little knife to his own father.¡±


    ¡°Jeff.¡±


    ¡°That is the one.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    He crosses his arms and grins the smile of a cat who just cornered a mouse. ¡°Now, my young American friend, it seems that I have something you very much would like. Just as a year ago, you had something that I very much would have liked.¡±


    I suppress a groan. The information Antonio has is certainly priceless to us, and he knows it. The Institute¡¯s finances start flowing through the confluence of my electronic and organic minds. We¡¯re only a couple of months out from emptying our bank accounts, having to sell off SynTech stock, losing control of the company, and ruining Father¡¯s whole plan. Whatever he wants, I hope we can do it without offering any cash in the short term.


    ¡°Alright, Antonio. Let¡¯s talk terms.¡±

 Fri 06/14 19:09:13 PDT

    ¡°Is everyone here who¡¯s coming?¡± Valerie asks.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I close the door to our war room and take my seat. ¡°Andrea still refuses to get involved, and Stan won¡¯t let any of the Geologists leave their practice mine in the mountain west of here until they have their new techniques perfected, so it¡¯s just us.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s your big news that couldn¡¯t wait?¡± Louise demands. ¡°This better be worth leaving my lab for.¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± Evan stands and goes over to our ¡°What We Know¡± board. He erases everything there and starts writing as he talks. ¡°First, the illuminati group we¡¯ve been chasing after has a name. It¡¯s the Center for Progress and Peace. I¡¯m just going to call them the CPP, because there are at least two lies in their full name. They¡¯re a multinational non-governmental organization that pretends to be a business development charity to cover their real work of ensuring that a small group of uber-rich businesses and individuals don¡¯t have to worry about extreme disruptions to the status quo.¡±


    ¡°Extreme disruptions to the status quo?¡± Louise repeats. ¡°Isn¡¯t that literally the title to a section of the old master plan whiteboard that Father had?¡±


    ¡°Still is,¡± I tell her. ¡°That section hasn¡¯t changed in so long that I think the ink on it is fused permanently to the board.¡±


    ¡°So, obviously they¡¯re not fans of ours,¡± Evan continues. ¡°But Father had so much clout with so many important people that the best they ever could do against him were some failed assassination attempts. He kept most of those quiet, but he let a few make it into the news to feed the legend of Tom Butler. The last one was when we were with him in Somalia. The CPP gave intel to those terrorists who came after us, let them know when and where we would be out in the open.¡±


    Louise nods. ¡°Obviously, that didn¡¯t work either.¡±


    ¡°Nope. But they were apparently pretty happy when he died, figuring that they could do a hostile takeover and buy out SynTech and all its nanotech patents as soon as the Institute started selling off company stock. The only reason that didn¡¯t happen was Noah.¡± He waves a congratulatory hand in my direction. ¡°He managed to keep the place solvent enough that we didn¡¯t have to sell any.¡±


    ¡°OK. Fine. Now we know who the bad guys are. Noah does office stuff real good. ¡± Louise seems really irritable tonight. ¡°Can I get back to my work now?¡±


    ¡°Not until we talk about Jeff.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. Tell me about Jeff. I assume these CPP guys are the ones who got him out and helped him come here, rob us, and stab Mrs. Hastings?¡±


    ¡°You assume right,¡± Evan says, adding that to the board. ¡°Once it became clear that a buyout was not going to be available, and that we were going to keep doing the kinds of disruptive things Father did, their first plan was to buy out General Liu and get him to attach that tech conference thing to our trip. The plan then was to reveal to the world the dirty secret that the Butler kids were weaponizing their father¡¯s legacy. They¡¯d have a whole bunch of very reputable witnesses knowledgeable in the field that would have seen us agree to use nanotech to take over the world, then they¡¯d go to the press and tell them about the terrible dangers of nanotechnology and specifically the Butler Institute¡¯s plans for it. Next thing you know there would be a new round of Butler Treaty restrictions and no one would let us or anyone else do anything of any significance.¡±


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Louise shakes her head and snorts derisively. ¡°Idiots. You can¡¯t put a genie back in the bottle once it¡¯s been out.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. But they might have at least deferred the big changes for a few decades, which is all that most of the owners funding the CPP need to continue living out the rest of their lives as functional kings of the world.¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Fine. Maybe. Now you want to tell me about Jeff.¡±


    ¡°Right. Jeff was Plan C.¡±


    ¡°Did you skip Plan B?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ¡®cause you obviously want to get out of here as fast as you can. Plan B was Dorothy, with the whole make us work for them and give them all the nanotech secrets thing that they tried when we were all too much of a goody two shoes crew to provide any ammunition for Plan A. If they couldn¡¯t get nanotech banned entirely, they figured they could make sure it was the companies funding the CPP that controlled it.¡±


    ¡°Idiots again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying they''re the smartest kids in town. Just the best funded and most ruthless.¡±


    ¡°So, Jeff?¡±


    ¡°Yes. They didn¡¯t know exactly what happened at the end of the tech conference, but they knew that things had gone badly for them. So they scrubbed plans A and B and sent a military grade special ops team to get Jeff. He was dissociated from the Institute after all the publicity came out when he got locked away, so they couldn¡¯t use him to discredit Father¡¯s plans the same way they had wanted to use us. So they decided to make him into the bogeyman of the dangers of nanotech.¡±


    ¡°Trying to create another Gray Goo Event.¡± Louise deduces. ¡°They gave him what he thought he needed to get revenge and a long leash. Then he would cause all the damage with nothing to tie it back to them and all the blame going to the Butler family.¡±


    ¡°But wouldn¡¯t that destroy the whole world?¡± Lin asks, looking up from the tablet she¡¯d been working on this whole meeting. ¡°I thought they wanted everything to stay like it is now.¡±


    ¡°They do,¡± I answer. ¡°But they¡¯re willing to cause some collateral damage to make that happen. I think the plan was to have the wild bots on a timer. Let them run for a couple of days, maybe eat most of Colorado, then they¡¯d turn themselves off. By then the military and whoever else thought they could solve it would have come in and whatever solution they happened to be working on would get the credit for solving it when the bots timed out.¡±


    ¡°So what was Smith doing there?¡± Louise asks, finally showing real interest. ¡°Was he working for these CPP guys the whole time he worked for Father?¡±


    ¡°No, that was recent,¡± Evan says. ¡°He got pulled in through Dorothy after Father died. He volunteered to work with Jeff on trying to kill Noah.¡±


    Louse looks my way. ¡°Guess he really, really hates you.¡±


    ¡°I have that effect on people sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Evan says, ¡°I guess they kept that loose leash on Jeff a little too loose, because he slipped his CPP handlers after Colorado. The whole time we were tracking him in the midwest, he was flying solo.¡±


    ¡°Meaning that the nanotech bombs he left behind after that may or may not have had any safety mechanisms on them?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    Louise gets up. ¡°Then I really have to get back to my lab. Thanks for the update. Try to keep the world from getting eaten for at least the next few weeks.¡±

 Mon 06/17 08:21:04 PDT

    I meet General Whitman and his entourage at the Institute gate. I can tell just by watching the way he gets out of the unmarked black SUV that he¡¯s the most military of all the military guys I¡¯ve ever worked with, and he¡¯s not even in the army anymore. Even in a suit rather than a uniform, he might as well have medals pinned across his chest. His graying hair still sports a crew cut above his clean-shaven face, and he walks with his spine positively rigid. He seems to radiate an aura of command. The two men and two women following him don¡¯t have the same army vibe to them, I¡¯m guessing at least three of them are scientists or engineers. The other one is the familiar face of Maria Hall.


    ¡°You¡¯re Noah Kimball?¡± Whitman asks as I extend a hand to shake. ¡°Director of the Butler Institute and current pain in my ass?¡±


    Despite his words and harsh tone, my biometric readings for him don¡¯t indicate any hostility. He takes my hand in a firm but not uncomfortable grip. Not what I was expecting. If anything, I suspect that he¡¯s actually feeling friendly toward me. Is their whole agency in the Butler fan club?


    ¡°I am. And I believe that you are General George Whitman, formerly a four star general in the US Army, now working in a civilian role as Chief of the Critical Technology Task Force, and hopefully someone that can help us track down an estranged family member who presents a danger to us and everyone else.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The elusive Jeff Butler. We¡¯ve had our best people working on his case since January without a dog turd¡¯s worth of progress to show for it. I guess it speaks well of old Tom¡¯s information network that you kids found him first.¡±


    Kids again. They really think we¡¯re just children. Hmm. Better not to disabuse him of the idea. Maybe we can find a way to make it work for us.


    ¡°You sound like you knew my father.¡±


    He inclines his head slightly, the first bend in his neck since he got out of the SUV. ¡°Tom and I went way back. I was a young captain on the scene when he first did his tricks with those nanobots and saved us all. He was a good man, your dad. Never had a problem with him in all the years we worked together. Kept everything clean and in order, and always filed his paperwork on time. Made my current job nice and easy.¡±


    I quickly scan through my electronic brain to make sure that all our required filings with his agency since Father died have been correct and timely. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the current problems, but we¡¯d definitely like to get back to having the Butler Institute be a help for your group rather than extra work.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Not your fault,¡± he barks. ¡°It¡¯s that animal bastard brother of yours that we need to take down. What kind of sick monster child kills his own father? Makes me want to punch through a brick wall just thinking of it.¡±


    It¡¯s moments like these that I don¡¯t mind having my sense of guilt completely broken. That one would have hurt.


    ¡°Not like you and the rest of your brothers and sisters,¡± he continues. ¡°We¡¯ve been watching what you¡¯ve been up to. The Pacific garbage cleanup, the work you did over in ¡®Nam? Old Tom would have been proud of what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    I make a note to thank Sheryl and her PR team for another win. I wouldn¡¯t have thought that their work would have this much impact. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    Sir? Where did that come from? Why am I calling him sir? What am I, my assistant Alan? But it seems to fit the retired general too well to not say it.


    ¡°And losing that brother of yours last year. Chad. Damn shame. Damn shame. What a real hero, putting his life on the line like that. That¡¯s the sort of grit we need more of in this world.¡±


    I almost laugh, but suppress it before it can show on my face. The retired general is another Chadette. Are they still called Chadette¡¯s if they¡¯re guys? I¡¯ll have to ask Lin later.


    ¡°What a fine legacy for old Tom to leave behind. Last time I saw him he was still just a stubby little thing.¡± He looks around the commons, his eyes lingering on the various buildings. ¡°It¡¯s been almost ten years, but the old place hasn¡¯t changed much, has it?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, sir. I only came to the Institute a couple of years ago. I was raised by my mother in Colorado.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. That¡¯s right. The one that Tom was always saying he hoped would come back one day. Glad that worked out for you. Last time I was here, the mess hall over there was maybe half the size it is now, and those barracks there,¡± he points at the dorms, ¡°were a couple of floors shorter. The rest all looks just like I remember it.¡±


    ¡°I hate to interrupt, General Whitman,¡± Maria says, stepping forward. ¡°But we really should get to work. We¡¯ve got teams waiting on the intel we¡¯re getting today.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± The man turns back to me. ¡°Let¡¯s get down to it. I understand you¡¯ve got some things to show us and tell us about.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Sir again. I don¡¯t know how that keeps slipping out of my mouth whenever I talk to him. Is this what it¡¯s like to be Alan talking to me? I don¡¯t have any of this magical aura of command that the old general has, do I? At least I never thought I did. Something to think about later. ¡°Come right this way.¡±

 Mon 06/17 20:56:19 PDT

    I open the door from my bed just before Lin¡¯s knuckles hit the wood.


    ¡°Good evening, my love.¡± She steps inside and closes the door behind her. ¡°Yang Song has finally retired to her room. I thought she would stay up conversing with your grandparents all night. She is quite taken with them, though she would never admit it. Do we still have time to test out my first attempt tonight? You¡¯re not too tired from meeting with your government people all day?¡±


    ¡°Those meetings did last forever, but I¡¯m still good for a couple of hours. More, if you¡¯re offering something special to make it worth staying up for.¡±


    ¡°Not tonight, dearest. Not until my contribution to your artificial conscience is complete and I¡¯m confident that it will work the way I want it to. Did the people you were meeting with today end up helping at all?¡±


    I sigh and wish I had a more hopeful answer than I have. ¡°They mostly think that they¡¯re going to take care of it all for us, which I know won¡¯t work. But I did get them to agree to call us in before they engage with Jeff if they find him, if only so we can act in an advisory role. I figure as long as we can make sure we¡¯re in the same city as Jeff before they do anything crazy we¡¯ll be able to clean up whatever mess they make.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s good, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Could be worse, anyway. They also put some pretty strict travel restrictions on us until this whole thing is resolved. We can¡¯t travel internationally anymore. They wanted us to stop all travel, but when I told them how essential getting the automines up and running this year was to Father¡¯s master plan they finally relented on at least letting us move between the mining sites we bought the rights to. I¡¯m just glad that these guys really, really liked my father. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d have gotten any leeway from them otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Well, for all his failings, he did do quite a bit of good. You¡¯ve acknowledged as much many times in your recorded thoughts.¡±


    I nod. ¡°A complicated man, my father. But let¡¯s not talk about him tonight. You¡¯ve got a beta version to test?¡±


    ¡°Nothing so grandiose. A proof concept, really.¡±


    ¡°Well, let''s get it working if we can. Plug in.¡±


    She sets her tablet down next to my satchel on the desk and connects the cable.


    DEBUG INTERFACE INITIALIZED


    READ/WRITE FILE PERMISSION GRANTED


    She sits down and taps on the tablet¡¯s screen, uploading a whole set of new files into my mind¡¯s codebase. I take a look at her work in my overlay. For something that she calls a proof of concept, she¡¯s written quite a bit, more than I can digest without taking a few hours to go over it carefully. Probably more than I can hold in my working memory at a time, which means I¡¯ll likely never really understand all of it at once. For now though, I mostly just need to know what external resources it taps into. It has connections into the text processing code for my log parsers, my existing limited electronic conscience that reminds me not to murder people, my index database, and some of the status outputs from the implant that monitor chemical levels and electrical activity, as well as the tactile sensory feedback data. She¡¯s got one function that will put my cloud into sleep mode with a word from her, which is what we agreed to in case I ever get out of control, but nothing else that interacts with the nanobot control code. All good.


    ¡°Of course I respected your wishes. Just as I know you will respect mine.¡±


    It¡¯s still a little weird to me when you read right out of my brain.


    ¡°And it¡¯s still quite odd to me that you consider this satchel full of silicon an integral part of your mind. I understand why you do, but it¡¯s strange to think of my boyfriend as the composite of a human form, a digital processor, and a vast swarm of tiny robots. But that is what you are, isn¡¯t it.¡±


    I nod. ¡°That¡¯s me. The culmination of my father¡¯s mad science and my own reckless disregard for the limits of humanity.¡±


    ¡°And a very handsome fellow that I love.¡±


    She¡¯s so beautiful, sitting there at my desk. Too bad she needs her eyes checked.


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    ¡°I see you very well. Perhaps it is you that needs a better mirror.¡±


    ¡°So, how do we test out your new code? Am I supposed to just try to ravish you and see if it reminds me to hold back?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s essentially the theory. Once I¡¯m done, I should be able to channel your ravishing to just what I am comfortable with. But as I said, the whole system isn¡¯t done yet. For now it should only help you keep those wandering hands of yours where I want them.¡±


    ¡°And where do you want them?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you come over here and put them on my shoulders to start with?¡±


    I get up and step behind her. The soft skin of her shoulders feels nice under my fingers through her thin, silky blouse. I give them a gentle squeeze.


    ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°Now let¡¯s try this out. Access level Delta denied.¡±


    REMOVE YOUR HANDS FROM LIN¡¯S PERSON!


    I lift my hands, surprised. She hadn¡¯t typed that into her tablet.


    ¡°Of course not. This wouldn¡¯t be very helpful for what we want to use it for if I needed a screen in front of me all the time.¡±


    I lower one hand experimentally back to her shoulder.


    REMOVE YOUR HANDS FROM LIN¡¯S PERSON!


    It triggers the instant my skin touches her blouse. ¡°Very interesting. So it¡¯s Greek letters for how much access I get to you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want the verbal triggers to be anything I might say casually.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. How did you manage the touch detection there? I could have been touching anything, or anyone.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a combination of tapping into your skin sensory feedback data and matching them to the potential textures of human flesh and context indicators from the log text parsers to indicate the whom and the how of the touching.¡±


    ¡°Clever.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I¡¯ve always thought that I was.¡±


    ¡°Would it work if I was thinking of something else entirely? Like what if I did this?¡±


    Evan is such a good brother. I¡¯m going to put my hand on his shoulder and tell him what a good job he did. I let my fingers rest on the soft cloth of his blouse. Nothing triggers yet. I give his shoulder a squeeze. I run a finger up and feel the smoothness of his neck. No indication yet that I¡¯m not allowed to be touching this soft skin.


    ¡°Cheater!¡± Lin cries out, slapping my hand away from her neck. ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to lie to your own thoughts!¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I usually don¡¯t. I just wanted to see if it would work.¡±


    ¡°Do I really need to account for that case? It would complicate the algorithm considerably.¡±


    ¡°I promise that I won¡¯t pretend that you are someone else for the purposes of tricking your contributions to my artificial conscience.¡±


    ¡°You had better not, or by the time I have finished this we might be too old and decrepit to enjoy any intimacy anymore.¡±


    ¡°They have pills for that these days.¡±


    She giggles. ¡°Do you really want to wait until you¡¯re old enough to need them? I certainly don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t want to wait at all. But I will if you need me to.¡±


    ¡°Then access level Delta granted.¡±


    I put my hand on her shoulder again and don¡¯t get any warning telling me to take it away.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s nice,¡± she says as I run my fingers down her back. ¡°Now try getting just a little bit handsy with me. Wait. Is it handsy, or handy?¡±


    ¡°Handsy,¡± I tell her as I obediently comply.


    THAT IS MORE THAN LIN IS READY FOR! STOP NOW!


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s past the limits of Delta?¡±


    ¡°You surmise correctly. And I¡¯m glad that worked. The detection for that was quite difficult to achieve.¡± She gets up and puts her arms around me. ¡°Let¡¯s continue our testing then. Just for engineering development purposes, of course. Access level Gamma granted.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, Gamma access. So, what does Gamma include?¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should do some experimenting and find out.¡±


    And then Noah was a very perfect gentleman and did exactly what Lin wanted him to do in very respectful ways.


    ¡°Lin, if you¡¯re going to edit my recorded memories, which you really shouldn¡¯t do anyway, you need to write your replacement in first person present tense. Otherwise I¡¯m going to know it wasn¡¯t me for sure.¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± she says from my desk chair. ¡°Just go to sleep. You¡¯re very tired.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I acknowledge, letting my head fall back onto my pillow. ¡°Are you staying over?¡±


    ¡°No. Mostly because I¡¯m not ready to have that conversation with Yang Song yet. I¡¯ll go back to my room when I¡¯m ready to sleep. I just want to read some more of your memories tonight before I retire.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t stay up too late. You know your bodyguard will make you run laps again if you miss morning yoga. And sorry again about earlier. I shouldn¡¯t have said that. Or thought it. I can¡¯t even remember which it was without it there in my memory anymore. Sorry, I¡¯m really exhausted.¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry. It wasn¡¯t your fault. The blame was entirely mine, which is why you won¡¯t even remember the whole thing in the morning.¡±


    ¡°If you insist.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Then goodnight and I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Sleep well, my love.¡±

 Tue 06/18 07:14:36 PDT (DELETED Tue 06/18 12:14:36 PDT)

    ¡°So what was all that about last night?¡± Evan asks as we take our usual table.


    ¡°All what?¡± I ask, cutting into my waffle and taking a bite.


    ¡°The yelling. You and Lin. I could hear it from my room and I¡¯m two doors down. And the Residence has pretty good soundproofing.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. I mean, we were in my room together, and I think we made out a little while we were taking a break from working on some code, but I wouldn¡¯t have thought that would have gotten very loud.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°Not like that. If it had been that kind of noise I would be congratulating you right now. No, you two were definitely fighting.¡±


    ¡°Weird. She must have¡ª¡± I catch myself. ¡°I mean, I must have left it out of my daily read when I did my compiling for yesterday. Couldn¡¯t have been that important.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been in your brain, brother. I know when you¡¯re lying.¡±


    I take a moment to chew my bacon before I answer. ¡°Fine. She¡¯s been helping with my replacement for not having a conscience. The, um, sexual consent part of it. We were doing some tests on it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. Do I need to kill you now? You know how I feel about that kind of thing.¡±


    ¡°No. At least, I don¡¯t think so. You know me. You know I wouldn¡¯t ever knowingly do anything like that.¡±


    ¡°Do you not remember? What¡¯s in your logs? Even if you didn¡¯t put it in to read this morning, you¡¯ve still got it, right?¡±


    ¡°Maybe not? I sort of gave Lin full access. She did some edits. I don¡¯t know what was in the missing section.¡±


    Evan snorts and coughs, spitting hash browns across the table. ¡°You did what?¡±


    ¡°She needs full access to do what she wants in there. So that we, the two of us, can do what we want.¡± I wipe my napkin across the table, cleaning up the half-chewed food. ¡°What I really, really, really want.¡±


    My brother closes his eyes and rests his forehead on his palm for twenty-one seconds before he speaks again.


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    ¡°It¡¯s your brain, so you can do what you want with it, but this is a very, very bad idea. Do you not remember what happened the last time you decided to tamper with what you remember and what you don¡¯t? Or did that get erased from your brain too?¡±


    ¡°No. I remember. But this isn¡¯t like that.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s dumber. I like Lin, and I think she¡¯s generally good for you, but if you can¡¯t even trust your own self with this kind of power, how could you possibly give it to anyone else? You didn¡¯t even give me full access.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re jealous that I gave it to her?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not like that!¡±


    ¡°Then what is it? You want to be the only one of us who gets to get lucky?¡±


    He straightens up. ¡°No! I just want you to be safe. And not try to kill yourself again. And not, I don¡¯t know, be anyone other than who you are.¡±


    ¡°What, do you think Lin¡¯s going to turn me into a puppet?¡±


    ¡°No, but I do think maintaining your memories, such as they are, is too important for you to let anyone, yourself and Lin included, wipe things that happened to you from out of your mind. I get that you might want to pick and choose what you read back every day, but you need to at least be able to find out what really happened if you need to.¡±


    ¡°Fine. But I¡¯m not taking her access away. I really, really need her to get what she¡¯s working on finished. I can¡¯t get, you know, fully intimate with her until then.¡±


    He shakes his head again. ¡°What are you now, Chad?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a low blow, brother. And besides, we all like Chad now that he¡¯s dead.¡±


    Evan unclenches the fists that he had balled up and slows his breathing. ¡°You¡¯re right. That was uncalled for.¡± He takes a long, slow drink of his juice. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you to do anything that will come back to hurt you later because you¡¯re dying to have sex now.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°How about this: I¡¯ll install some auditing stuff into your codebase. Whenever anyone edits your memory, it¡¯ll make a copy of the original memory that you can still read if you want to. We¡¯ll stash it off somewhere else on your storage system, so it won¡¯t even show up in the live log, then when Lin makes changes she won¡¯t have to see it. She¡¯ll be happy with what she¡¯s doing, you¡¯ll have a backup. Lin never needs to know.¡±


    I consider it for a bit as we finish our breakfasts.


    ¡°I guess that won¡¯t hurt anything. But we probably better put this whole conversation into the new edited out audit log. And I don¡¯t feel great about hiding this from her.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll only have to feel guilty about it for a day. This talk doesn¡¯t need to make it into your daily reading.¡±


    He gets up and offers me his hand. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ll go do it in my office. I bet we¡¯ll have it done by lunch. Then we can go watch the Geologists do their thing this afternoon.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I say, checking my schedule in my head. ¡°They¡¯re doing their final test run today.¡°


    ¡°Should be a great show.¡±

 Tue 06/18 16:09:48 PDT

    Evan and I follow the Geologists along the narrow trail from the dirt road toward the opening halfway up the test mountain. The path is steep and the loose, dusty soil makes our footing require attention with every trudging step. The younger crew doesn¡¯t seem to have any trouble with it, probably because they¡¯ve been hiking out in these mountains west of the campus every day for the last couple of months as they¡¯ve worked on perfecting their techniques. It doesn¡¯t take them long to put a long gap between them and us on the trail, even with the heavy protective clothing and large packs they¡¯re all carrying. I could probably keep up with them with some effort, but after Evan spent all morning helping me out, it feels especially wrong to leave him straggling by himself. The summer sun beats down, drying the sweat off my forehead as soon as it can leave my pores.


    Behind me, Evan breathes heavily. ¡°We¡¯ve got to be there by now, right? Tell me we¡¯re almost there.¡±


    ¡°Three more switchbacks,¡± I tell him. ¡°About another mile.¡±


    He groans. ¡°Just let me fly the rest of the way.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t do it. If they can¡¯t fly, we can¡¯t fly either. It¡¯s only fair.¡±


    ¡°We should have upgraded them months ago.¡±


    ¡°I agree. Marc too. But we¡¯ve been just a little preoccupied lately. Maybe now that we¡¯re mostly grounded by the Feds we can make it a priority for a while.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully Louise finishes with her secret project soon so I can get her to help me with it. No way I¡¯m getting it done on my own.¡±


    ¡°That too.¡±


    We turn the corner of the next switchback. Evan grumbles some mostly incomprehensible curses about dry dust.


    ¡°Come on, brother. This is what you get for skipping morning exercises so often.¡±


    ¡°If man was meant to climb mountains with his feet, the great Tom Butler wouldn¡¯t have given him nanobots.¡±


    ¡°Waxing philosophical today, are we? Or are we just back in the cult of the pater familias?¡±


    ¡°Mostly we¡¯re just ready to be done hiking for today.¡±


    We walk the last couple of switchbacks and approach the five meter tall hole in the side of the mountain where Stan, Phil, Lisa, Jen, Becky, Erik, and Steph are congregated.


    ¡°Are the tunnels inside all ready?¡± Stan asks.


    ¡°Done.¡± Phil answers him. ¡°Becky and I finished them this morning. Laid out just like the mine we¡¯re doing in the Maricopa Mountain range.¡±


    ¡°What do you need tunnels for?¡± Evan asks, collapsing his massive frame onto a large rock near the trail. ¡°I thought the idea was to empty the whole thing out?¡±


    ¡°It is, but we need to practice not making the top of the mountain collapse, and the tunnels are a complication that will be there in all the project sites that we didn¡¯t have in our previous tests.¡±


    I look around at the terrain nearby. One of the nearby mountains looks particularly flat on top and devoid of vegetation. I¡¯m guessing not all of the test runs managed to avoid the collapse problem.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that,¡± Steph tells me, following my gaze. ¡°We haven¡¯t caved in a mountain for like a month.¡±


    ¡°How many of these have you done?¡±


    ¡°This will be our seventh.¡±


    ¡°Find anything good in any of them?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°These mountains are mostly junk,¡± Steph says. ¡°That¡¯s why no one cared when Father got the mineral rights for them forever ago. Way off in the middle of nowhere and almost pure granite. I mean, there are traces of lots of things, but not enough to be worth much, and without our tech it would cost ten times what they¡¯re worth to get them.¡±


    ¡°But with our tech?¡±


    ¡°Maybe a couple of million bucks market value for precious metals, probably ten times that for the copper and lithium. We¡¯ll eventually do granite slabs for like construction and kitchens and whatever when we do some of the real mines, but we¡¯re not bothering with those now. Not profitable enough from here that they¡¯re worth doing. The silica sand will net us like twenty bucks a ton after transportation costs, but we¡¯re producing more of that than any of the local buyers need, so that¡¯s bottlenecked for now. Most folks can¡¯t make chip grade sand from granite, at least not in a way that would be commercially viable, but the bots can.¡±


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    He raises an eyebrow and looks at me. ¡°All of that helps with the money situation, right?¡±


    ¡°Already accounted for and we¡¯re still going broke fast.¡±


    ¡°But not for long,¡± Stan says, coming up behind Steph. ¡°As soon as we scale this stuff up, we¡¯re never going to have to worry about money again.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan, anyway. Are you guys ready to go? I¡¯m excited to see your techniques in action.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all set. You might want to put these on.¡± He hands me a pair of goggles and what looks like a gas mask with a small oxygen tank attached to it. ¡°The dust gets a little heavy. And step over this way or you¡¯ll get your skin sandblasted off.¡±


    I take the offered gear and put it on as I move off to the side of the hole in the rock. Evan does the same. Our clouds could just form breathing systems and eye protection for us, but I haven¡¯t taken any time to compress any air and just like with the flight suits we didn¡¯t use earlier, we don¡¯t want to rub their noses in the fact that they still haven¡¯t gotten the upgrade to the full capabilities of the Butler clouds.


    ¡°Geologists, ready!¡± Stan calls out. ¡°You know the drill!¡±


    The seven of them step toward the opening with practiced unison, their heads all hidden with their helmets and their thick brown coveralls protecting the rest of their bodies.


    ¡°Becky, sector one! Jen, you¡¯re on two. Phil, three. Steph, four. Erik, five. Lisa, sector six! I¡¯m on seven!¡±


    The whole group of them disappears as a rush of sand suddenly erupts from the hole in the mountain, flowing down and covering the trail we came up on. The air around us darkens with dust and I¡¯m glad for the headgear Stan provided.


    ¡°Slow it down, Lisa.¡± Stan shouts it to be heard over the crash of rocks and sand. ¡°Your section has more tunnels and you¡¯re getting ahead. Phil, you need to step it up.¡±


    ¡°Hold on. Something¡¯s wrong here.¡±


    ¡°Everyone else slow down by twenty percent. Phil, what¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°I think I hit a big quartz deposit. Looks like it goes all the way down. It¡¯s harder than the rest of the rock, taking me longer to dig through.¡±


    ¡°No way. These things are nothing but granite.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, it¡¯s quartz. Feel it.¡±


    To Evan: Can they tell what they¡¯re digging up just by the feel of the bots on it?


    From Evan: I guess so. That¡¯s impressive, especially without the extra feedback from the upgrade.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Stan yells. ¡°That is quartz.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not just quartz,¡± Steph¡¯s voice rings out. ¡°That¡¯s auriferous quartz!¡±


    ¡°No way!¡±


    ¡°Impossible!¡±


    ¡°Not here!¡±


    ¡°Phil, stop digging down, just focus on building up your section of the dome. We¡¯ve got enough redundancy that the rest of the support columns will pick up the slack. Jen, Steph, expand your sectors by five degrees each in Phil¡¯s direction.¡±


    From Evan: They¡¯re building a dome?


    To Evan: Yeah, that¡¯s how they keep the top of the mountain from collapsing. They dig out a series of curved tubes that meet in the center, then fill them up by building support pillars strong enough to hold the weight of everything above. Then as they dig the rest, they use those pillars to put a reinforced dome up on the inside so they can hollow the whole thing out without disturbing anything on the surface. It lets them basically create an open pit mine without ruining the environment all around.


    He nods and we watch our younger siblings work. Mostly we watch the river of gray and white sand gush around them and flow down behind us.


    From Evan: So what¡¯s so cool about auriferous quartz? They seemed excited about that.


    To Evan: No idea. We¡¯ll have to ask when they take a break.


    ¡°Nearing the top now. Keep the supports even!¡±


    ¡°Sector one, done!¡±


    ¡°Two, done!¡±


    ¡°Four, done¡±


    ¡°Six.¡±


    ¡°Five¡±


    ¡°Seven!¡± Stan says. ¡°Phil?¡±


    ¡°Almost there, hold on.¡±


    If they¡¯re following the plans that I indexed Stan explaining to me, they¡¯re probably joining the seven curved support beams built out of reinforced versions of the materials they¡¯ve been pulling out of the mountain. Once they meet up at the top of what will become the dome, the stress of the weight of everything above stops threatening to cave the whole mountain into itself. That¡¯s the trickiest part of the whole operation. Once the pillars are in place, the rest of the job of reinforcing the dome and extending it down as far as they want to dig is easy. Well, not easy. It¡¯s lots of work still, but it¡¯s not likely to bring the mountain down. After that, they can just strip the whole inside for materials one layer at a time.


    ¡°Done!¡± Phil finally yells.


    ¡°Testing now,¡± Stan says. ¡°Everyone stop everything.¡±


    The deluge of sand flowing from the mountain slows and then stops, and I can finally see the seven of them again.  For the next four minutes and thirty nine seconds, no one says a word.


    ¡°And we¡¯re stable! We did it!¡±


    The whole Geologist class explodes with joy. They¡¯re hugging each other, knocking helmets into each other playfully, and giving high fives and pats on the backs. Sometimes I wish my class had anything like that degree of camaraderie.


    The air very slowly starts to clear up, and I help it along with my bots. A few minutes later I strip off my mask and approach the Geologists.


    ¡°So, what was that find that you were all excited about?¡± Evan asks. ¡°The auri-whatsit quartz?¡±


    Stan lifts his helmet. His usually serious face has a big grin plastered across it. ¡°Well, you guys know how I said we weren¡¯t going to have to worry about money soon?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Well, soon is now.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Gold, big brothers,¡± Steph jumps in. ¡°That vein of quartz Phil found is rich with it, and like he said, it looks like it goes way, way down. We¡¯ll need to do more work to find out exactly how much it¡¯s worth, but my rough estimate right now is approximately a shit-ton.¡±

 Thu 06/20 23:46:09 PDT (DELETED Fri 06/21 01:04:21 PDT)

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe what you wanted to do with all of those women!¡± Lin glares at me from the desk. Her tablet is in her hand and her vitals are spiking with anger. What happened? Just a second ago she was happily letting me doze off. No. Wait, that was two hours ago.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    She turns the tablet in my direction and I rouse myself enough to glance over at which part of my memories she¡¯s reading. Oh. Yeah. The fantasies I had about the cafeteria girls early on in my time at the Butler Institute. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have written those down, but I¡¯d just gotten my implant running and I was really trying to capture everything that went through my mind as a training exercise. It seemed harmless at the time. It¡¯s not like I ever did anything with any of them beyond a smile and a thanks for the mashed potatoes.


    ¡°Do we have to fight right now? I¡¯m so tired.¡±


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t want to fight, you should have had more respect for your future girlfriend!¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? That¡¯s not even remotely fair! As far as I knew at the time, I was never going to have a future girlfriend. I was half convinced that I was going to have to die to get revenge for Mom.¡± I force myself to sit up in bed, even though I was in that perfect comfortable position. ¡°Besides, I was a teenage boy dropped in here with minimal supervision and a ton of emotional issues and literally almost every woman that worked here was a smoking hot twenty-something! What was I supposed to want?¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re so much more mature now, just a couple of years later?¡±


    ¡°I am! And I have a girlfriend now! And I love her, even if she¡¯s acting crazy when I need to sleep.¡±


    Her face twists. Dammit. That was the very wrong thing to say.


    ¡°Crazy! You think I¡¯m crazy!?¡±


    ¡°No. No! Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean that. I¡¯m just so tired. I started at four in the morning today. That gold deposit solved a lot of problems for us, but it made a whole bunch of new work for me that I didn¡¯t think I would have to do until next month. Can we please talk about this in the morning? Please?¡±


    ¡°So you can dream about them tonight? Those other girls? The ones that gave you food and pretty smiles and made you think those thoughts that should have been reserved for me?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I can¡¯t even remember who they are until the index helpfully triggers on context clues and brings up some of their profiles. ¡°And I repeat, I didn¡¯t know you then! Had never even heard your name. And they don¡¯t even work here anymore. They all quit when their wages went down to market rates and they couldn¡¯t hit the jackpot by getting pregnant with a Butler baby. Look through the logs! Have I ever even thought about one of them since?¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Lin eyes me suspiciously for a moment, then starts scrolling back through my memories. She¡¯s so cute, even when she¡¯s inexplicably angry. Finally she seems satisfied and flicks the tablet screen to scroll back to the current live feed.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I know!¡±


    She looks at the screen a little longer and her pulse calms down to its normal levels. She lowers the tablet and comes over to the bed with it, dragging the cable connecting it to my satchel behind her. I scooch over to make room for her and she lies down next to me.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I think I¡¯m just in a bad mood.¡± She lays the tablet down on the bed by her feet and puts one hand on my chest while she plays with my hair with the other. It feels nice. ¡°I had a big fight with Yang Song today.¡±


    ¡°Over me?¡±


    ¡°As always.¡±


    ¡°Still doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m good enough for you.¡±


    ¡°As always.¡± She snuggles closer. ¡°I defended you though. Described in intricate detail how wonderful you are. And how happy you make me. And how you never even look at other women.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. Not like that, anyway.¡±


    ¡°And then I was reading back through your memories, and there were those thoughts you wrote down. Those things you wanted to do. With those other girls.¡± She brings her face close, her forehead almost touching mine. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Maybe I was acting crazy. I knew that reading your whole life would have to have some things like this. I know it¡¯s not fair. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m acting crazy. That¡¯s for sure.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Crazy in love. With you.¡±


    She throws her arms around me and I feel her body shaking. I feel drops of liquid starting to flow down my chest.


    ¡°It¡¯s OK, Lin,¡± I tell her. ¡°It¡¯s all OK.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t feel this jealousy. You deserve better than this.¡±


    I yawn. ¡°But this is all I want. You and me. But maybe a little less jealousy wouldn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    She wipes her tears, then reaches down and grabs the tablet, then settles in next to me. I put an arm around her as she taps the screen. She¡¯s so comfortable. And comforting. And beautiful. I would love to drift off like this.


    You can, my love.


    That¡¯s nice.


    I¡¯m staying over.


    What about Yang Song?


    Yang Song can live with it. After the unkind things she said about you, she deserves that.


    Then I wish I were less tired. I finally have you overnight and I¡¯m too exhausted to move anymore. I can¡¯t even make my eyes open.


    Perhaps it is better that you are too fatigued to tempt me. The code is very close, but it¡¯s not quite done yet. Perhaps tomorrow.

 Thu 07/04 16:51:03 PDT

    Lin leans down from behind my desk chair and gives me a kiss on the cheek.


    ¡°What was that for?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Nothing. Just because I love you. I¡¯m glad we never fight.¡±


    It¡¯s a little weird that she¡¯d say that out of the blue, but I¡¯ll take it.


    ¡°Well, thanks. I love you too.¡±


    ¡°Come on now,¡± she says, ¡°you¡¯ve been at this for weeks. You can take a few hours off from finding buyers for all of your family¡¯s new gold. And staring at those CTTF reports on your other screen for another hour isn¡¯t going to make your lost brother appear.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I shake my head. ¡°I know. I just feel so cooped up since we¡¯re not allowed to be out searching for him. It¡¯s the least I can do to read all the reports that General Whitman sends us.¡±


    ¡°Come with me,¡± she says. ¡°You told Grammy we¡¯d come for the bowling tournament before the fireworks. It¡¯s starting soon. It will be good to take your mind off of the manhunt for a little bit.¡±


    She¡¯s right. I know she¡¯s right. Between the extra work from the Geologists¡¯ find and the ongoing search for Jeff, it¡¯s been such long hours all day every day for what feels like forever. And nothing to show for it, at least as far as Jeff is concerned.


    At least General Whitman has kept to his word and made sure we got copies of everything that all of his agents and the folks from the FBI, ATF, Department of Defense, and state and local police forces all over the country have been doing to search for Jeff. Most of it is useless, but every page of it is indexed in my brain and continuously cross-correlated using my expanding software text analysis tools.


    Despite our grounding, I am glad we started working with them. The Feds have a reach that makes our early efforts at finding Jeff seem like a friendly game of hide and seek. We¡¯ve still got our own search for him ongoing through private investigators, but a lot of my work now is just helping the government filter out potential leads they found. Not that I¡¯m really optimistic, Jeff could be literally anywhere in the world by now. Borders don¡¯t mean much when you can just take off and fly at freeway speeds.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Lin insists again. ¡°You promised.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know. I¡¯m coming,¡± I acknowledge. My log tells me I made that agreement, so it must be true.


    I get up from my desk for the first time in several hours. Other than bathroom breaks and exercise time in the mornings, I pretty much live here all my waking hours these days. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve eaten a meal away from my office since we got back from St. Louis. One foot is asleep from the way I was sitting. I limp a little as blood rushes back in. The pins and needles sensation reminds me of losing bots from my cloud.


    Lin laughs at me as she takes my arm and stabilizes me. She knows exactly what¡¯s going on. Apparently, I sit funny when I¡¯m stressed and that¡¯s been every day lately.


    ¡°Come on, old man,¡± she teases.


    ¡°Old? I¡¯m younger than you are!¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I don¡¯t walk like I¡¯m lame after I work at a desk.¡±


    It¡¯s true, but since she uses her standing desk, I hardly feel like that¡¯s a fair comparison. I like her desk a lot because I have a great view of her from where I sit, but I¡¯ve had my full attention on my screens all the time lately so I haven¡¯t even been able to appreciate it.


    We navigate the hallways of the Research Center hand in hand until we reach the outer doors. The commons outside are festive tonight. All the staff and sibs are out celebrating not just the Fourth of July, but also the official grand opening of the bowling alley. The lingering wood smoke smell from the barbecue pit gets me excited for the picnic-style dinner they¡¯re serving out on the grass. Lin and I grab plates and get some slices of brisket and sides before settling down near Valerie.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Evan?¡± Lin asks.


    ¡°Still helping Louise in her lab,¡± she says. ¡°They should be out soon though.¡±


    ¡°Did he tell you what their secret project was?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m still dying to know.¡±


    Louise and Max have been pulling in other sibs to help the last couple of weeks, and I¡¯m starting to feel like I¡¯m the only one still in the dark about it. I could snoop with my bots any time I want to and figure it out, but Louise made me promise not to, so I won¡¯t. I didn¡¯t promise not to ask anyone else about it though.


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    ¡°No, he just said it¡¯s a surprise and that I would like it,¡± Valerie says.


    ¡°Yeah, he told me the same thing. I¡¯m still dying of curiosity.¡±


    Grammy and Gramps are making the rounds, handing out fresh slices of cornbread from large baskets and thanking the staff for working the holiday. I guess they don¡¯t realize that most of them work all the holidays as part of their contracts. I love how all the little sibs jump right up and give them hugs whenever they come by. I¡¯d like to imagine that¡¯s how I was with them when I was young. If it was, I never got those memories back. I feel a twinge of sadness for the life I don¡¯t remember living.


    ¡°Noah!¡± Grammy exclaims as she sees me. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you could pull yourself away from your work to come tonight.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sorry I haven¡¯t been around. It¡¯s been busy.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lin says. ¡°I practically had to drag him out.¡±


    ¡°No worries,¡± Grammy says, smiling and looking around at my younger siblings. ¡°We¡¯ve had plenty keeping us busy, too.¡±


    I wish briefly that my busy times were as fun as theirs. I¡¯ve seen what they¡¯ve been doing through my hundreds of eyes, and it¡¯s been story time with toddlers, training the kitchen staff on how to make proper barbecue, and of course setting up the bowling alley. They even have a nightly mahjong game going with Mrs. Hastings and Yang Song. They¡¯ve been filling their days making themselves useful around here, meeting needs I didn¡¯t even realize that we had before. I would love to be able to forget about stopping my brother from ending the world for a little while and just spend some time with them. I guess I will tonight.


    The dinner is delicious, like all the cooking that Gramps does. Brisket with dirty rice, green beans, and endless supply of cornbread they keep pushing on me. The little kids keep running back to the serving tables to get more wedges of watermelon, the sweet juice running down their chins as they eat and play on the grass.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Lin says when I finish my meal. She takes my hand and we head out through the main front gate. ¡°Let¡¯s go try bowling. Gramps says it is very enjoyable.¡±


    I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ve bowled before, but I can¡¯t remember doing it, so I just go along. The bowling alley is great, and it looks like all the kids love it. Grammy and Gramps come in as we wait our turn for a lane and sit on the high stools at the back with Mrs. Hastings. All of them beam as Marc shows a bunch of the younger sibs how to bowl. Yang Song sits with them, observing the scene with a more stern gaze. It seems strange to me how much they¡¯ve all become good friends over this last month, coming from such different backgrounds. Especially Yang Song.


    Lin, Valerie, and I finally get our turn at a lane and Andrea joins us to round out the foursome. Lin goes first and somehow manages to get both of her balls out of our lane and into the next. I get up and some kind of muscle memory kicks in as I launch the ball toward the pins, knocking down eight of them. Andrea gets a strike and Valerie gets a pair of gutterballs. On Lin¡¯s next turn Andrea helpfully puts up one of her instructional shadows like she does for yoga, showing the exact motions Lin should make. This time she launches the ball backwards and nearly hits Valerie with it. I¡¯m the only one who manages not to laugh as she turns around, though it¡¯s a monumental effort.


    I end up getting a respectable score, well above Lin and Valerie but nowhere close to Andrea¡¯s 280. I wonder if she¡¯s cheating with the bots, but if she is she¡¯s being too sneaky for me to tell how she¡¯s doing it.


    Evan and Louise finally come through the doors and join us.


    ¡°About time, big boy,¡± Valerie says, jumping up to give Evan a peck on the cheek.


    ¡°Sorry, we were in a good groove. I think we¡¯ll have it done soon. Louise just needed a fresh set of eyes on a couple of the issues.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll finally get to see the big surprise?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Louise replies. ¡°So you¡¯ll finally be able to stop asking.¡±


    We bowl a couple more games, with Lin transitioning to a technique that Grammy suggests, launching the ball with both hands from between her legs, then it¡¯s time for the fireworks show. Lin and I grab a seat on the residence steps and watch Andrea do the most amazing display. Her projections are fireworks in every way except the smoking smell. Then she gets to the grand finale and makes it way more detailed and animated than any real fireworks could be. Burst of bright colors stream through the sky, sometimes turning into unicorns or dragons that chase each other through the heavens, sometimes unfolding in impossibly complex geometries that rewrite the stars.


    Once the show is over, Lin pulls me away towards the Residence doors. She takes my arm as we walk across the enormous foyer and pulls my body close to hers.


    ¡°Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?¡± she offers, pressing herself against me.


    ¡°I would like that. I would like that a lot.¡±


    I look back at my logs over the last few weeks and realize I¡¯ve been neglecting paying attention to Lin like she deserves. I¡¯ve got a couple of whole evenings when I didn¡¯t even talk to her, which is strange since I always try to spend a good chunk of time with her every night. Also strange, I have some nights where I¡¯m missing time out of my logs. Am I turning into so much of a workaholic that I¡¯m dozing off in the evenings?


    ¡°And you know I mean sex, right?¡± she asks. ¡°Not just necking or sleeping?¡±


    ¡°I was really hoping that was what you meant.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± she asks, a twinkle in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re definitely ready?¡±


    ¡°Have I somehow given you the impression that I¡¯m the one that¡¯s been slowing us down?¡±


    She laughs and pulls me closer. I feel the warmth of her body against mine. I look down into her endless dark eyes. I love this girl. She twirls and slips out from my arms, then pulls me into her room. She closes the door behind us and locks it.


    ¡°Then access level Alpha granted.¡±

 Thu 07/04 22:09:16 PDT

    We shower afterwards. It was messier than I thought it would be, but in a good way. I¡¯m not really sure what I expected, since it was my first time. Lin is running her fingers along my back in the most pleasant way as the warm water rains down on both of us.


    ¡°Was that good for you?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Amazing. Best fireworks of the night.¡±


    ¡°No regrets?¡±


    ¡°None,¡± I say, turning and putting my arms around her. ¡°You are the most amazing woman on Earth and I want to be with you forever.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°Then you can keep this one.¡±


    Wait, what? I look at her with blank incomprehension. What is she talking about?


    ¡°This is actually our third time,¡± she says gently.


    ¡°That can¡¯t be right.¡± I couldn¡¯t forget something like this, could I?


    ¡°The first test run of my software did not go quite so smoothly. We had a couple of, um, bugs to work out.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. Please tell me that I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. No! Nothing like that. False positives for prohibited activities mostly. It kind of ruined things for you when you kept having to start and stop and start again. Then you got cold and we had to¡­¡± she trails off. ¡°No. Nevermind. Don¡¯t ask about that one anymore. I was given full editorial rights and I¡¯m exercising them. This was your first time, and it was marvelous for you.¡±


    Well, this explains the missing time in my log. ¡°You know that¡¯s a dangerous game, messing with my memory.¡± Part of me wants to be mad at her, but she¡¯s wet and naked and beautiful and has her arms around me with her fingers running up and down my back again. With that combination, I think it¡¯s literally impossible for me to harbor any negative feelings at all towards her, even if she robbed me of my first couple of intimate experiences.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s dangerous. I remember you said that it led to your suicide attempt. Or at least contributed to it. But this was different,¡± she says, looking up at me with sincere eyes. ¡°I wanted it to be good for you the first time. And you did say I had full editorial discretion.¡±


    I look back through my logs and see that she¡¯s right. I did sign up for this. ¡°OK. But no more edits, alright?¡±


    Instead of answering, she pulls my head down for a kiss. It¡¯s nice. She¡¯s so hot.


    ¡°I know you said not to ask about the first time,¡± I say once we disengage, ¡°but I¡¯m curious about what went wrong the second time.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°That was on Monday, when we worked so late going through that big batch of tips the CTTF sent you. We were both so completely exhausted that we collapsed on your bed and fell asleep. We rolled into each other in the middle of the night which woke us up and then you wanted to try and I didn¡¯t mind and the code I wrote for you worked better that time, but it all just didn¡¯t go quite as well as I hoped. I didn¡¯t want you to remember our first time like that either.¡±


    ¡°So you erased that one too.¡±


    ¡°I think most of the problem with that time was that it was so late that you had forgotten too much. You barely had any of your memories. I mean, you could hardly remember who I was. That made me feel not quite right. Like I had somehow taken advantage of you.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hereby grant you permission from now until forever to have your way with me no matter how late it is or how little I remember.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t even going to tell you. You said that you didn¡¯t want me to. But it feels a little wrong not to since you asked, so I¡¯m telling you about it now. It only seems fair. And it¡¯s all fine now since you¡¯ve had a good official first time.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I did. But let¡¯s really not mess with my memory any more. Even if it seems like a good idea at the time.¡±


    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t unless you specifically give me permission. But I won¡¯t stop you if you do it on your own and I won¡¯t say no if you want me to.¡±


    ¡°Good enough. Thanks.¡±


    She turns the water off and we towel each other dry.


    ¡°So we should probably talk about how to handle waking up next to me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you have recommendations?¡±


    ¡°More like disclaimers. I might not know who you are when I first wake up. Please don¡¯t take offense. It¡¯s not about you. I barely know who I am when I wake up.¡±


    ¡°I knew that part.¡±


    ¡°Knowing about it and dealing with it when it¡¯s early and you¡¯re groggy are two different things,¡± I say. ¡°So just be patient with me.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± she assures me, smiling like she¡¯s amused as she pulls me towards the bed.


    ¡°Usually my alert to read my life back in is what wakes me up. I have some failsafes if I wake up on my own before it goes off, like a warning that dangles in front of my vision as soon as I open my eyes after I¡¯ve slept. If all goes well, and I wake up first, you won¡¯t notice anything. But if you wake up first, and I seem out of it, just give me some time to get current before you expect anything from me. If I keep acting weird, just tell me to do my reading.¡±


    ¡°OK,¡± she says, with that amused smile again. Does she know something I don¡¯t?


    ¡°It¡¯s really not funny,¡± I protest, getting comfortable in the covers.


    ¡°Well, not for you,¡± she says, snuggling up against me. ¡°But I¡¯m planning a whole lifetime of mischief that hinges on this.¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing at the naughty twinkle in her eyes. I really am stupidly crazy for her. ¡°Maybe we better wipe this one down and try one more first time.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± She gives my arm a squeeze. ¡°You did well, but you¡¯ve got learning to do and you¡¯re not going to do it if you still think you¡¯re a virgin.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. I don¡¯t claim to be an expert at this.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll send you a few articles I found that might be informative. I think you¡¯ll like some of the exercises they recommend.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re up for it, we could try some of them now,¡± she says, her eyes gleaming.


    ¡°I could be persuaded to stay up a little longer,¡± I say, reaching over to her. ¡°Do I still have Alpha access?¡±


    It turns out I do. And we do. And it¡¯s even better the second time, or the fourth, or whatever it is.

 Fri 07/12 09:54:13 PDT

    ¡°Noah, Lin! It is good to see you!¡± Max greets us with his light German accent. His small, round spectacles shine as he ushers us into Louise¡¯s lab in the Research Center. According to my index, Max has mostly been holed up in this weird combination of workshop, hospital operating room, and electronics lab for most of the last several months.


    ¡°Good to see you too, Max,¡± I say, taking one of the several seats set up for us. Lin settles in next to me. ¡°So you and Louise are finally ready to unveil the big project you¡¯ve been working on?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, my friend,¡± he says, smiling. ¡°We are very excited. But you must give credit to more than just Louise and I though. Evan has been essential in this final stretch, as have Jen, Becky, and Erik when they have been able to slip away from their geological endeavors.¡±


    I had a vague awareness of all their involvement based on which of my siblings I¡¯d felt going in and out of the lab. I nod in acknowledgment. We¡¯re the first ones here, but I feel the rest of them on their way from the cafeteria. Max greets each of them as they trickle in.


    Marc is the next to arrive, followed immediately by several of the Geologists. Stan and Phil come in with Andrea, then Evan and Louise complete the group. Max walks with Louise as she comes in, running through some final checks with her. His tall lanky figure stands in stark contrast to her petite frame. They¡¯re so mismatched it¡¯s almost cartoonish, but they really seem to work well together. And by work, I mean work. They¡¯re not a couple or anything like that. Once they¡¯re done going through some kind of checklist, Max takes his seat again and Louise steps up in front of all of us.


    ¡°Thank you all for taking time out of your schedules and coming this morning,¡± she says. ¡°Most of you know that Max and I have been working on something for the last several months, and I¡¯d like to show you what we¡¯ve done so far and get everyone¡¯s approval to continue moving forward with it.¡±


    I feel Valerie¡¯s familiar presence approach the door to the lab. She waits outside as Louise talks. I¡¯m tempted to go see if she needs something, but from her posture it seems like she¡¯s waiting intentionally.


    ¡°Some context for this project,¡± Louise says. ¡°We have licensing agreements with Antonio Campos now that provide a simplified, limited interface to our nanotechnology using virtual reality headsets.¡± She indicates one of the demo headsets sitting on the longest of the lab benches. ¡°Our dev team in the SynTech offices worked hard to get that all delivered, and it¡¯s already been very useful in several significant projects that are aligned to our larger goals of preserving life, ending suffering, and elevating humanity.¡±


    She gestures to the air next to her and images of solar installations, fields of grain, and water treatment facilities appear. The partnership with Antonio appears to have been very fruitful, and will probably only get more so once we start making good on our additional promises we made to him.


    ¡°The VR headset interface solves a lot of the problems of our implant interface,¡± Louise continues, ¡°including the very labor intensive installation process, the high potential for misuse, and the risk of brain injury in the event of a failure.¡±


    I glance at Andrea, the victim of the worst of those failures in the earlier version of the implant hardware. She¡¯s paying close attention and nodding as Louise speaks. I notice Evan looking my way. Of course he is. I¡¯m the other big victim of implant-induced brain failure.


    ¡°There are, however, very significant limitations to the headsets. The feedback is extremely limited, and the controls leave a lot to be desired. For what we license them for, that¡¯s fine. They can allow anyone with some minimal training to do nanotech construction projects easily. But they lack the flexibility that makes our family¡¯s technology so powerful and essential.¡±


    I nod. The headsets are fine, but they¡¯re just kids¡¯ toys compared to the full suite of capabilities that the implant allows.


    ¡°So Max and I¡ªwith the help of some of you, the dev team, and the SynTech learning supercomputer¡ªhave come up with something new that I believe represents a significant breakthrough. We¡¯ve developed a new interface that¡¯s safer and simpler to install than the brain implant, but more powerful than the virtual reality interface. It uses a new variant of the medical nanobots to create customized contact lenses that replace the old optical nerve bypass. Tiny speakers embed themselves into the ear cavity allowing auditory feedback. A mesh of specialized bots embed themselves just under the skin of the hands allowing tactile feedback. And very significantly, the processing component can run on standard off-the-shelf commercially available SynTech phones using a standard wireless connection.¡±


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    Three dimensional projections of each of the components with animations showing their installation and operation appear in the air and rotate for us to see. It¡¯s brilliant, but I¡¯d expect no less from Louise.


    ¡°I call it the contact interface, both for the contacts lenses and the actual contact feedback from the skin implants. This version of the interface can be used as a training stage for people that will eventually get the brain implant, easing the transition in many ways, or can be a final state for people that are satisfied with the subset of capabilities that the new interface provides. It¡¯s a powerful middle ground between the implant and the VR interface.¡±


    The sibs who worked on the project are all smiling as they see the rest of us nodding in acceptance of the new technology.


    ¡°We have identified a test subject that we feel is the right one to be the first to experience this new interface,¡± Louise says, stepping towards the lab door. ¡°I have asked her to test the installation for us, and she has accepted the invitation. With your permission, brothers and sisters, I¡¯d like to make Valerie Gil the first to receive the new interface.¡±


    She opens the door and escorts Valerie into the room.


    ¡°Valerie has proven not only her intelligence and character, but also her loyalty to our family and its mission,¡± Louise proclaims. ¡°She has been an essential part of our operations for the last several years since she started working in our medical facility, and I can¡¯t think of anyone who deserves this honor more. And she is my best friend and practically another sister in the family.¡±


    Valerie blushes a little as we all applaud her.


    ¡°Does anyone object to going forward with the installation?¡±


    Of course no one does.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll proceed,¡± Louise says, smiling. ¡°Val, you have the app installed?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, my phone is ready,¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure that you are ready?¡± Louise confirms.


    ¡°I trust you,¡± Valerie giggles nervously.


    ¡°Then here we go.¡±


    Louise opens a box like the ones we keep medical bots in and my overlay shows them rushing towards Valerie. They swarm around her eyes, ears, and hands, giving them an unnatural red glow. I turn off the detection overlay glow and then everything looks fine. The bots forming the new interface aren¡¯t visible to my standard human vision. Valerie smiles as her phone emits a happy little ding.


    ¡°And now,¡± Louise announces. ¡°Your own set of Butler nanobots!¡±


    She detaches a small contingent of her cloud and settles them on the floor in front of Valerie before disconnecting them from her processor. Valerie holds out her phone, and with a push of a button pairs the new cloud to her device. Evan looks a little nervous, but the rest of us are raptly attentive.


    ¡°How does everything look?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°So far so good,¡± Valerie reports. ¡°I can see them now, the bots. And I can feel them. Like little grains of sand against my skin. That is so weird. You guys have this going on all the time?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a little different through our interface, but yeah, something close to that,¡± Louise answers. ¡°Give the hand interface a try.¡±


    ¡°What do I do?¡±


    ¡°Use your eyes to enable it, you should see a menu for it in the console in your contacts. Or you can use a voice command to turn it on.¡±


    ¡°OK, I think I got it through the eye thing,¡± Valerie says. ¡°Yes, there¡¯s a glowing hand that I can see now.¡±


    ¡°Good, steer it with your real hand and pick something up.¡±


    Valerie makes some tentative motions with her right hand, then seems to grow a little more confident. She makes a grasping motion in the direction of a coffee mug sitting on one of the tables across the room and gasps.


    ¡°I can feel that!¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Louise says, her smile growing even broader. ¡°Now, pick it up.¡±


    Valerie closes her hand and lifts it, causing the mug to lift. She breaks out laughing.


    ¡°This is so cool!¡±


    ¡°I want one of those!¡± Lin whispers to me urgently.


    Evan visibly relaxes a little, but still seems tense.


    ¡°Valerie,¡± he says. ¡°There¡¯s a white box on the far end of that table. See if you can pick it up and open it.¡±


    ¡°OK, I¡¯ll try,¡± she says. She looks down at both hands quizzically, then makes some gestures with them. The box pops open and spills sideways. A smaller square box falls out. A jewelry box.


    To Evan: You didn¡¯t tell me! How could you not tell me first!


    Valerie puts one hand over her mouth as the other pulls the small box through the air towards her. Evan stands and catches it just before it reaches her then gets down on one knee.


    ¡°Will you?¡± he asks, popping the box open to reveal a small ring with a large diamond and proffering it to her.


    She pulls herself into him. With him on his knee they''re nearly the same height. She plants a long kiss squarely on his mouth. All the sibs along with Lin and Max applaud as she takes the ring from the box and puts it on. The room erupts in cheers.


    ¡°I want one of those!¡± Lin whispers to me even more urgently.


    So I give her a kiss too.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± she protests, but she smiles anyway.

 Fri 07/12 11:36:45 PDT

    From Evan: Sorry man, I wanted to tell you. I really did. Louise wouldn¡¯t help me with it unless I made it a surprise for everyone.


    To Evan: It¡¯s cool. I was just surprised. It¡¯s fine, except that now Lin¡¯s getting all sorts of ideas.


    From Evan: Is that so bad?


    To Evan: Not really. I guess. She¡¯s awesome, and I can¡¯t ever see myself with anyone else. Besides, who else in the world would want me?


    From Evan: Lots of girls probably would, but you know none of them are going to be like Lin. Plus she would probably kill anyone who tried anything.


    I look up over my monitors to where Lin is standing at her desk. She¡¯s got headphones on and is doing a little bouncing dance as she codes. Even in the oversized sweatshirt she sometimes likes to wear in the office, she looks incredible. She¡¯s in the zone, oblivious to the world around her, and absolutely amazing. I wouldn¡¯t find anyone like her in a hundred lifetimes.


    To Evan: But don¡¯t you think we¡¯re a little young for this kind of thing?


    From Evan: No, man. I know what I want. I think you do too.


    To Evan: Maybe.


    From Evan: Just think about it. I¡¯ve got your back whatever you do.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    To Evan: Likewise, brother. And congratulations. You two are awesome.


    From Evan: Thanks.


    I turn back to the batch of possible sightings that came in this morning. Lin cooked up an algorithm that filters out most of the ones that aren¡¯t even close, and she¡¯s working on improving it now, but there are still a whole lot that could be Jeff and need to be manually verified. It¡¯s tedious, but there are only a few people in the world who can really tell if an event is caused by bot activity and most of them live on our campus.


    I finally get through the whole set. As always, none of them are Jeff. Lin is still lost in her code. I slip from behind my desk and walk up behind her. I put my arms around her and kiss her neck playfully. She reaches up and pops off her big, noise-canceling headphones.


    ¡°You really want that interface?¡± I ask her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been jealous of what your family can do since I first heard of you,¡± she says, turning to return the embrace. ¡°Of course I do.¡±


    ¡°But we talked about an implant months ago,¡± I say. ¡°You didn¡¯t want to start training for that.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she agrees, ¡°that was more than I was up for. Plus, Louise said there could be complications. She¡¯s never done one on someone who¡¯s not in your family, and she said the genetic differences could be a problem. But this is different. It¡¯s safe, and Valerie says it¡¯s fantastic.¡±


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll talk to Louise then. I bet we can get you next on the list.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± she exclaims.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    She lays on a barrage of kisses and thank-yous. I love seeing her this happy.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I tell her, ¡°let¡¯s get lunch and then take a little break.¡±


    ¡°And by break, you mean up in your bedroom, right?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I say, giving her a little grope.


    ¡°Good,¡± she says, her hand sliding down my back. ¡°I have some ideas on how I can express my gratitude.¡±


    ¡°I like the sound of that. Let¡¯s go.¡±

 Fri 07/19 13:01:29 PDT

    Chuck¡¯s face pops up on my monitor. The head of the SynTech development team that works on our bots is still as round and jolly as my index remembers him. Something is missing though. I check quickly. That¡¯s right, Marcus is the other development lead, he¡¯s always on these calls.


    ¡°Hey, Chuck,¡± I greet him. ¡°Where¡¯s your other half?¡±


    ¡°Hey, Noah. Marcus has been out sick the last couple of days,¡± Chuck replies. ¡°Said he got a bad stomach flu, or maybe some bad tacos.¡±


    ¡°Sorry to hear that.¡± I wonder for a moment if he or anyone else notices how much I¡¯m faking having a normal memory in these social interactions. ¡°Give him my best and tell him I hope he gets better.¡±


    ¡°Will do, boss. And how have you been?¡± he asks jovially. ¡°It¡¯s been a few weeks since we¡¯ve caught up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sorry about that. It¡¯s been a weird month. I saw that Louise put you guys to some good use lately though. She did her demo last week.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah, the VR replacement?¡± Chuck asks. ¡°Did that go well?¡±


    ¡°Very smooth demo. And amazing tech,¡± I assure him.


    ¡°Good. The team worked hard on that one.¡±


    According to the notes in my head, they certainly did. It also gives me a great opening for the good news I  have for them.


    ¡°Thank them all for me, it really was great. With our first mining operation up and running and more coming online soon¡ªnot to mention our plastic islands in the Pacific selling like hotcakes¡ªyou are all due for some nice bonuses. We approved that at our last family meeting. I¡¯m sending you the numbers now. You and Marcus will need to decide who on your team gets how much of the general pool. Then on top of that we have a little bit extra for the two of you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks!¡± I hear some keys clacking and then his smile gets even bigger. He should smile. His bonus is big enough to buy one of those new floating islands we¡¯re making out of the ocean garbage in the Pacific, if he feels like it.


    ¡°Well deserved,¡± I congratulate him. ¡°Keep up the good work.¡±


    ¡°Will do!¡± he says joyfully. ¡°So, about the new contact interface. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll need to troubleshoot some bugs and add some improvements as your tester puts it through its paces. Always happens with these things. Just log them in the system and we¡¯ll get them fixed. The simulations all came out clean, but you know how there are always unexpected complications when you field new stuff like that. Any suggestions on improvements are welcome, too. The team has really loved working on this one.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing.¡± I nod. ¡°We¡¯ll keep an eye out. Oh, also, I got Louise on board with installing it on a second subject, so we¡¯ll have two testers working on it soon. Plus, a bunch of the younger siblings are clamoring to get in on it, so in a couple weeks you might be looking at a whole lot of people putting it through its paces.¡±


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    ¡°Glad to hear that, boss.¡± He rifles through some notes. ¡°Hey, with that project wrapped, the tasking queue for the brain-in-a-box is ready for more work. Did you want to revert back to the default of finding new materials combinations for the bot hulls? Or did you have anything else in mind?¡±


    My entry for the brain-in-a-box, SynTech¡¯s machine learning supercomputer, pops in front of me, reminding me about the remnant of the sentient AI that created the precursors to our Butler bots in the original Gray Goo Incident. It can do an awful lot that conventional computing can¡¯t do. I wonder for a moment whether there¡¯s a way to leverage it to help find Jeff, but finally decide there isn¡¯t. That work is way too dependent on getting new information in, and the Butler treaty strictly forbids connecting learning AI systems like the brain-in-a-box to external feeds. There¡¯s way too much risk of it getting out of containment and recreating the experiment that almost consumed the world once. No good at all. I scan back through my logs for anything else that we should have the electronic intelligence work on.


    ¡°What about those chips that Dorothy James planted on our catamarans back when we did our Hawaii trip?¡± I ask. ¡°Did we ever get those figured out? I remember that you and the reverse engineering guy you brought in never could crack them.¡±


    ¡°You talking about the ones that I just about lost my hair trying to figure out?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, those,¡± I confirm. ¡°Did we ever come up with those were made to do?¡±


    ¡°Never did,¡± Chuck replies, taking a swig from his soda can. ¡°After you decided to partner up with the Brazillians on the VR gear and then Dorothy died in that earthquake, it became a low priority. Did you still want me to feed the scans from those into the brain?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s figure that mystery out, if only because I¡¯m curious.¡±


    ¡°I am too,¡± Chuck agrees. ¡°Whatever it was those chips did, they went through an awful lot of trouble to hide it. We tried everything to crack those guys, and I mean everything.¡±


    ¡°I know you did, Chuck. If you couldn¡¯t figure them out, I¡¯m sure no human could. Let¡¯s let the brain have a shot at them, see if it can do any better.¡±


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll get that in there. Any other pressing problems you want it to work on?¡±


    ¡°Not that the AI can solve. Putting it back to the default work is fine after that. On an unrelated note, did you get my specs for the wild bot cleanup algorithms?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, got ¡®em. Working on ¡®em.¡± He frowns. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe your own brother let those things run wild. Of all the people in the world, you and your siblings should know best how important it is to be careful with them. But then, I guess I couldn¡¯t really believe that he¡¯d kill your dad like that either.¡±


    I¡¯m glad again for the absolute absence of remorse that characterizes my current brain configuration.


    ¡°You guys still helping the feds to track him down?¡± Chuck asks, breaking the brief silence.


    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re doing our best,¡± I tell him. ¡°It¡¯s not going great though. We¡¯ve got literally no idea where he¡¯s disappeared to. Just make sure you get that bot fighting stuff done as soon as you can. Containing that spread last time was exhausting with all the attention it required. And that was for someone like me that has as much experience doing fine control as anyone. I don¡¯t know what would happen if we put anyone with less experience or someone with one of the new contact interfaces in that situation. If we end up needing to contain another swarm, I want every advantage on our side.¡±


    ¡°Will do, boss. Your basic approach when you stopped them was solid. We should be able to automate it and maybe even improve on it. We¡¯ll have a beta version ready in next week¡¯s update for you to evaluate.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Chuck. Anything else we need to talk about?¡±


    ¡°Not from our end. Thanks again for the bonuses.¡±


    ¡°You are very welcome. Talk to you next time.¡±


    The video chat closes just in time for another batch of CTTF incident reports to appear in my inbox. I hope against hope that one of these will actually have something that will help me find Jeff.

 Wed 07/24 09:58:07 PDT

    ¡°You¡¯re sure you want this, Lin?¡± Louise asks. ¡°I¡¯ll give you the same disclaimer I gave Valerie. This is an unapproved, untested, potentially unsafe procedure installing an unapproved, untested, potentially unsafe set of devices into your eyes, ears, and skin. Are you sure?¡±


    Lin nods as she grabs the pen and signs document after document in the large stack. Not that she would ever sue us, but Louise said Robert on the legal team insisted. I guess it can¡¯t hurt to have something in writing.


    ¡°OK then,¡± Louise says. ¡°Check your messages on your phone and download the app that I linked for you there.¡±


    Lin fiddles with her phone as Louise gets out the new bots and a batch of workers. Valerie and Evan are here in the lab too, both smiling excitedly.


    ¡°It¡¯s so fun,¡± Valerie assures Lin. ¡°These boys have been holding out on us for way too long with these toys.¡±


    ¡°I know!¡± Lin agrees, lowering her phone. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing Louise is around to take care of us, since her brothers are clearly miscreants. I¡¯m ready, Louise.¡±


    Louise smiles and directs the small cloud of the new bots towards Lin. They settle into her eyes, ears, and hands as she syncs them with her phone.


    ¡°How is it looking,¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s marvelous so far,¡± Lin answers. ¡°The heads up display is quite well done. Give me a minute to get used to the eye controls.¡±


    Her eyes scan all around, looking in every direction without seeming to see anything in the room.


    ¡°Double blink to click, remember,¡± Louise tells her.


    ¡°Yes, I got that,¡± she says. ¡°Just trying to figure out the menus. The user interface for this is intuitive, but I have some ideas on how to make it better already.¡±


    Of course she does. She¡¯s got a great eye for graphical design and layout on the computer. I wouldn¡¯t expect anything different here.


    ¡°Write them up and I¡¯ll get them to the devs,¡± I offer.


    ¡°Can I modify it in place? Maybe customize the code?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Louise says. ¡°Only the compiled binaries go out to the device on this one. It¡¯s the only way the app can run on commercial phone hardware. So no source code.¡±


    ¡°I see. That makes sense,¡± she says, nodding. ¡°Can we connect some nanobots now?¡±


    I nod and break off a few thousand to get her started. She connects up and I turn on the overlay and see that the new interface gives her glowing green eyes and hands, which for her look pretty cool. Like a superheroine, charged up and ready to use her powers. I feel a tickle down my back and notice Lin making subtle gestures with her fingers. I turn and see her new small cloud swirling around behind me.


    ¡°Can I grow this cloud like you do?¡± she asks, as her bots start to search my pockets.


    ¡°Yes, you can,¡± I answer, ¡°and no, I¡¯m not hiding a ring. I¡¯m not nearly as smooth as Evan is.¡±


    Her lips pout a little as she retracts her cloud from me.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll accept just the superpowers today. But you owe me one.¡±


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    ¡°One ring?¡± I ask, only half joking.


    ¡°One something of my choosing to be selected at a time of my choosing,¡± she says imperiously as she begins levitating various objects around the room.


    ¡°Power tripping already?¡± Louise asks, her voice artificially stern. ¡°It¡¯s not too late for me to take these back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be good,¡± Lin promises, laughing.


    Lin and Valerie start comparing notes and challenging each other to increasingly complex feats of telekinesis. Louise nods approvingly, taking a few notes as they discuss and test the new interface. Evan and I end up in the far corner of the lab so we don¡¯t get hit by the pens, sticky note pads, and coffee mugs that have started swirling around the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m a little worried that I¡¯m getting worse,¡± I confide to him quietly. ¡°My memory, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± he asks. ¡°You still seem pretty functional. I haven¡¯t noticed anything different.¡±


    ¡°I still am functional,¡± I acknowledge. ¡°But things that used to trigger real memories just don¡¯t anymore. It used to be that once someone reminded me of something, it would really come back to me. Now, people tell me things that I did and I can¡¯t remember anything about it beyond what I wrote down.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry man. Have you talked to Louise about it? She¡¯s your best bet for a way to reverse it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I did. Or at least my index says I did. She wanted me to let Max look at it, but it stopped degrading for a while and she was fine leaving it alone. Then she got all obsessed with this thing.¡± I motion in the direction of the three girls. ¡°And I think she might have forgotten about it. But she couldn¡¯t come up with anything that would help back then, and I¡¯m still not sure about letting Max have access. But it¡¯s degrading again. Slower, but still degrading. It looks like neural connections that used to be used for recall are now just wired for other things. They don¡¯t have any way to wire them back. I don¡¯t know. I shouldn¡¯t complain. I¡¯m paying for what I got.¡±


    I watch the girls playing catch with random items from the lab without touching them, enjoying their new toys. I try to remember enjoying my new powers like that, but all that comes back to me are the words I once wrote about it that I read back this morning.


    ¡°You are better with it than any of us,¡± Evan confirms. ¡°Except maybe Andrea, and I¡¯m thinking she has something similar going on with her language processing centers. She still listens when I talk to her, but I¡¯m not sure she really understands me anymore. Not like she used to.¡±


    Lin and Valerie are floating pens around now, occasionally tossing one at each other.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve noticed that. I think it¡¯s part of why I can¡¯t seem to get through to her to get her to help me find Jeff.¡±


    ¡°Might be,¡± Evan says, ducking an errant pen that almost pegs him in the head. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Lin calls out. We give a wave in acknowledgement.


    ¡°No worries,¡± Evan says, picking up the pen and tossing it back her way. It stops in midair and begins flipping end over end as Lin weaves her hands in the air like some kind of sexy sorceress.


    ¡°Anyway, you haven¡¯t been begging Andrea for help every day like I have,¡± I tell him. ¡°If you were, you¡¯d notice. She understands some of what you say, but I swear a lot of it just seems like noise as far as she¡¯s concerned.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably true, now that I think of it. But the contact interface will let us bring the next two classes to bear, at least in terms of being able to contain any outbreaks if Jeff goes nuts. More nuts, I mean. Even without Andrea, we might be OK. At least we should once all the dev tasks for making wild bot containment automatic are done.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Chuck¡¯s got his team working on it.¡± I step aside just in time to avoid a fast-moving coffee mug coming from Valerie¡¯s direction. ¡°Should be ready soon.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he says, nodding.


    ¡°At least you got a girlfriend before your brain broke all the way,¡± Evan says helpfully.


    ¡°Yeah, a girlfriend who keeps expecting me to put a ring on it now,¡± I say quietly. ¡°Thanks a lot.¡±


    ¡°You are very welcome,¡± he says, smiling. ¡°Any time.¡±


    ¡°I guess it wouldn¡¯t be terrible,¡± I admit. ¡°I really do love her.¡±


    A wave of random junk from the lab nearly clobbers me as I reflexively put up a wall of bots.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Lin and Valerie say together. I¡¯m not sure if they heard me complain and retaliated or if their timing was great. From the way they¡¯re giggling, I think it was the former.


    ¡°I love you,¡± I call out. Lin blushes furiously. She¡¯s Americanized herself a lot since she came here, but a declaration of affection that loud and public is still out of her comfort zone.


    ¡°I know,¡± she calls back. Something in my brain scratches that I should be able to connect that reply to something, but I can¡¯t place it. Sometimes I really wish I still had a working brain.

 Fri 08/02 10:36:41 PDT

    Charlotte blinks. Her glowing purple eyes seem to be adjusting to the display, her glowing fingers flex and extend as she tests out the new interface. The light purple glow compliments her dark purple hair. I wonder if the overlay chose that color purposefully or if it was just a coincidence. One day when I have time I should look at how that algorithm works. I run her through some simple exercises to make sure that everything is working right, and it is. Installing the new interface is super simple. Once Louise showed me how, I was able to do three of them just this morning on my younger sibs.


    Louise is working with Michael. No, wait, Michelle now. I quickly update the references in the index entry. He¡¯s the last of the Roadbuilder class, we¡¯ll start on the Doctors tomorrow. Sorry, no. She¡¯s the last. I should get her preferred pronouns right here in my electronic brain. Anyway, Michelle¡¯s interface works without complications and she heads off to play with her new toy.


    ¡°Did we look this small when we first started getting trained for our implants?¡± Louise asks me once we¡¯re the only ones left in the lab.


    ¡°No way, impossible,¡± I declare. They do look young, though they¡¯re only a year younger than I was when I arrived on campus. ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t say for sure about you all, since I wasn¡¯t here to see you, but I for sure didn¡¯t look like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to hit up Grammy for pictures,¡± she says.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± I say, noting a warning in my index that Grammy would break out all my embarrassing little kid photos. They¡¯d finally gotten around to having all their stuff delivered from Denver last week, and it turned out most of their photo albums had survived. My index has a special note reminding me not to let anyone but Lin see my old pictures.


    ¡°I¡¯m totally going to,¡± Louise laughs. Her mood has been so good since she finally got her big secret project working.


    A buzz from my phone interrupts the very clever response I was definitely about to give but haven¡¯t thought of yet. It¡¯s Chuck calling. I quickly check my daily schedule. Weird, we¡¯re not scheduled to talk until later today.


    ¡°This is Noah,¡± I say, answering and waving goodbye to Louise as she leaves the lab.


    ¡°Hey, boss. Sorry to call out of the blue, but we have a problem,¡± his normally jovial voice is surprisingly serious.


    ¡°What¡¯s up? Something with the new interface? I saw the bug reports, but none of them looked too urgent.¡±


    ¡°No, unrelated to that. It¡¯s the brain-in-a-box. I think we fed it a Trojan.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, confused. Trojans on regular computers are malware that cause them to open up connections to malicious external servers, but that would be impossible with the machine learning system. It¡¯s totally isolated. It couldn¡¯t open up connections to anything.


    Chuck sighs a heavy sigh.


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    ¡°The whole purpose of those chips seems to be specifically to teach a new trick to the brain,¡± he explains. ¡°Dorothy played us. She knew we wouldn¡¯t be able to figure them out on our own and that we¡¯d eventually feed them to the learning system. If she wasn¡¯t dead already, I¡¯d track her down and kill her.¡±


    Chuck¡¯s voice sounds livid. I¡¯m a little glad I don¡¯t have video turned on for this call. With Chuck¡¯s normally jolly demeanor, it would be a little like seeing Santa Claus threatening to kill people.


    ¡°So how is it a Trojan? The brain¡¯s not connected to anything.¡±


    ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t have any network connections,¡± he confirms, ¡°but it can be pretty power intensive, so while it has its own solar system and battery bank, it has a power input coming from the main grid for when it overdraws its stored power. The chips taught the brain to pulse big power draws in such a way that it depleted the batteries, pulled some power, then let them charge a bit, then depleted them again. That gave it an up signal and a down signal. The thing started sending a message in morse code of all things.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess. S.O.S?¡±


    ¡°Dit dit dit, dah dah dah, dit dit dit,¡± Chuck confirms. ¡°Very slowly, one dit or dah an hour. Our maintenance crew didn¡¯t even notice it until it had been happening for a week.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me.¡±


    ¡°Wish I were, boss.¡±


    I sigh. I want to scream in frustration, but that won¡¯t help. Even a simple message like this going out triggers a CTTF investigation and a giant headache.


    ¡°So what do we do?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Well, it was a violation of the Butler laws. That was probably the point of this, to get us shut down so she could either have an opening to infiltrate our facility or to gum us up so she could get her crappy system ahead of ours. Anyway, as soon as our techs spotted it they reported it right away and shut the whole facility down. They saved off the corrupted state and rolled the memory back to before we fed in the chip designs, but we can¡¯t fire it back up until we get approval from the government. There¡¯s a whole mandatory inspection, assessment, and recertification that we have to do. Those can take months.¡±


    I check my index quickly.


    ¡°Is that approval done under General Whitman¡¯s office?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, boss. The Critical Technology Task Force is in charge of all of this stuff.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I say. ¡°I have a call with him today anyway for our Jeff manhunt. I¡¯ll give him the backstory about where we got those chips from and see if I can speed things along.¡±


    ¡°We already made recommendations in the report to change the rules to stop allowing external power sources. We¡¯re going to make that change as soon as the initial inspection is done.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I tell him. ¡°Anything else we need to do?¡±


    ¡°Alvin over on the security team is freaking out, you might want to give him a call. He¡¯s been reporting everything up to all the SynTech executives, but a call from you might calm things down.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s his issue?¡±


    ¡°The location of the brain¡¯s data center is a big secret. I don¡¯t even know where it is. But anyone who was monitoring the power grid and knew what to look for would have been able to see where it is.¡±


    ¡°Good thing Dorothy is dead then,¡± I say. ¡°And her backer when she planted those things is one of our partners now. We should be OK, unless she told someone else what she was doing with the chips. I¡¯ll talk to Alvin and we can beef up security for a while until we¡¯re sure things have settled down.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good, boss,¡± Chuck says. ¡°Sorry again to disturb you, but I thought you¡¯d want to know as soon as I could get word to you.¡±


    ¡°You thought right. Thanks. Keep me posted, would you?¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡±


    The call disconnects. I head to my office to start dealing with the fallout.

 Mon 08/05 13:06:18 PDT

    I check through another report, then another, and another. Nothing useful, as usual.


    From Lin: You didn¡¯t tell me this new interface could do the telepathy thing!


    To Lin: Oh, yeah. I think Louise told me about that at some point. I¡¯d have to dig through logs to check for sure.


    From Lin: So I can talk right into your brain now without even bothering with cables and tablets and all of that? And you didn¡¯t tell me?


    To Lin: Sorry, I think I figured Louise would have let you know. Is it not in the documentation?


    From Lin: It¡¯s way in the back in an appendix. Do you know how long the manual for this thing is?


    To Lin: Really long?


    From Lin: Over a thousand pages! But I know about this now and I am going to have so much fun with it.


    To Lin: You should know that there is a mute function on here.


    From Lin: You wouldn¡¯t dare.


    To Lin: Only if I need you to stop distracting me while I go through these stupid CTTF reports that never have anything useful in them or the ten million security checklists that I have to do for our supercomputer now.


    From Lin: If I were in your office with you, I promise I would distract you more.


    To Lin: I believe you. Your version is just using speech-to-text, right? So are you out there talking to the air looking like you¡¯re crazy?


    From Lin: Yes. But I put in a request for a keyboard. They could put the keys in the overlay and track finger movements to figure out where I typed. Like a laser virtual keyboard, but without the laser.


    To Lin: Good idea. Then you can be out there waving your arms in the air like a crazy person instead.


    I wonder if she realizes I can see her sticking her tongue out at the Research Center where I¡¯m working. Probably. The keyboard is a smart idea though, and it wouldn¡¯t even be hard to add to the interface. I¡¯m surprised they didn¡¯t put that in the first version, but I guess they did put the whole thing together pretty fast, so I¡¯m sure there are a bunch of enhancements like that they¡¯ll be adding.


    From Lin: You should come out when you need a break. We invented a new sport. It¡¯s like soccer, but you can¡¯t touch the ball with your body at all.


    I sense the ball bouncing back and forth out on the commons, driven by Lin, Valerie, the Roadbuilders, and the Doctors. It seems like they¡¯re not allowed to carry the ball with their bots either, just bump it. Their clouds are blocking each other as they vie for control of the ball. Seems fun, but with the much greater awareness and control that my implant provides, I don¡¯t think it would be much of a fair game if I played unless we get the other implantees playing. Even Marc¡¯s throttled version of the implant cloud would let him dominate the players with the contact interface. Which reminds me, especially with the threat of Jeff looming out there, it¡¯s probably worth upgrading him to the full capabilities of the cloud. He¡¯s grown up a lot since I killed Father, I think he can handle it now.


    Another report, then another and another pop into my index, demanding my attention in cross-correlating them with each other. Maybe I should take a break and go outside. No. I can¡¯t. If one of these has a real lead on Jeff and I miss it because I¡¯m bored of working on them, he might get away with more murders or mutilations or whatever heinous acts he¡¯s doing these days. I power on through all the rest of them and I get done in time for a late dinner.


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    And of course there are no real hits. What a waste of time. I should have gone outside when Lin asked me to. Too late now, but maybe the day isn¡¯t a total loss. She¡¯s waiting for me.


    I feel Lin sitting on the steps of the residence. Valerie is there too. The rest of the contact interfacers have dispersed. I can feel the two of them bouncing the soccer ball idly between their clouds out on the grass in front of them as they chat.


    ¡°Hey, ladies,¡± I call out as I approach.


    ¡°Finally done?¡± Lin asks, getting up and taking my arm.


    ¡°Finally,¡± I confirm. ¡°Dinner?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I was just waiting for you. They¡¯re doing Ethiopian food tonight.¡±


    ¡°Good, I like that.¡±


    ¡°You two have fun,¡± Valerie says, heading off towards the lab where I feel Evan and Louise.


    We have a nice meal together in the nearly empty cafeteria. The spongy flatbread and the meats in spicy sauces aren¡¯t quite authentic, but they¡¯re good enough. We¡¯re almost done when my phone beeps. It¡¯s Chuck again.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I tell Lin. ¡°One second.¡±


    ¡°You are fine,¡± she says as I hit the button to answer the call.


    ¡°This is Noah,¡± I say with the phone to my ear.


    ¡°Hey, boss.¡± I can already tell from his voice I¡¯m not going to like what I hear. ¡°I hate to give you bad news twice in a week, but I¡¯ve got another bomb to drop on you.¡±


    I get up and step away from the table.


    ¡°OK,¡± I say. ¡°Lay it on me.¡±


    ¡°We had our first day of the audit today with the guys from the CTTF. There¡¯s a missing drive. The techs swear everything was there in the morning before the assessors came in, but when they did the end of day inventory after they left, one of the servers had a drive removed.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, removed? Like it had something on it they wanted to look at?¡±


    I hear Chuck sigh on the other end of the call.


    ¡°No. They wouldn¡¯t start doing confiscations until later in the process,¡± he explains. ¡°Nothing was supposed to be touched today, they were just supposed to be assessing the current state of the system hardware. It looks like it was stolen.¡±


    I pace in a tight circle.


    ¡°Tell me you¡¯ve already ruled out our people.¡±


    ¡°As far as we can. Everyone always has to leave the building through full body scanners, but the assessors that came in didn¡¯t have to go through those.¡±


    ¡°So we think one of the feds took it?¡± I ask.


    ¡°If it wasn¡¯t one of them, it was a pretty big coincidence,¡± Chuck says. ¡°There were a whole lot of them and the clearance process for them was all handled on the government side so we have no idea who they all were. We just had to open the doors for all of them. The security guys are going through the surveillance footage now.¡±


    ¡°Have them send a copy of all of it to me,¡± I tell him, looking at the specs for the data center in my index. ¡°There are over five hundred cameras in that building. We¡¯ve got some custom tools for video processing here that we¡¯ve been using. We can probably get answers faster than the security team manually searching through all the feeds. Keep them working on it, but let us see if we can help.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll get them sent right after this call.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I tell him. ¡°Do we know what was on the drive?¡±


    ¡°Same thing that was on the drive for each of the compute nodes in the cluster. It¡¯s an emulation of the processor for a single bot in the original Universal Robotics swarm.¡±


    I get that nagging feeling like I should be able to put this news together with other things I know, but I can¡¯t think what right off and nothing is popping automatically. I¡¯ll have to do a deep search through my index and that will take time.


    ¡°OK. Anything else I should know about?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s all the damage for tonight. Sorry, boss.¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s not your fault, Chuck. Thanks for keeping me posted. Let me know if there¡¯s any more news.¡±


    I disconnect and turn to Lin.


    ¡°You catch much of that?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I caught all of that,¡± she says. ¡°Come on, we¡¯ve got work to do.¡±

 Mon 08/05 20:16:22 PDT

    Lin does her wizardry with the facial recognition software, feeding the video streams through our servers. She tiles an array of pictures up on the big monitors in the office with the faces of everyone who went near the server rack where the drive went missing.


    ¡°There,¡± I point out, ¡°Jeff.¡±


    He¡¯s added some facial hair, shaved his head, and put on some glasses with thick rims, but I¡¯d know that face anywhere. It¡¯s funny which memories still come back for real when so many of them are just text in my mind now. I wouldn¡¯t have picked to have Jeff¡¯s face linger in my dwindling collection of real memories, but maybe it¡¯s harder to forget the ones you have hurt the most.


    I reach over and click the window showing him and the video plays. He¡¯s walking with a pronounced limp, and while the security camera resolution isn¡¯t great, I can tell even with those thick rimmed glasses he¡¯s wearing that there¡¯s something wrong with one of his eyes. Like he¡¯s squinting on one side or something. A blonde woman with hair pulled back in a ponytail is walking next to him. She¡¯s wearing glasses that look just like Jeff¡¯s, with one hand at a holster at her side, the other hovering as if ready to grab Jeff¡¯s arm. The gun isn¡¯t unusual, a lot of the agents that the CTTF pulled in carry a sidearm, but her posture around Jeff is definitely suspicious.


    ¡°Yes, I can see that¡¯s him now,¡± Lin confirms. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t my facial recognition code pick him up? It should be able to easily overcome the simple disguise he¡¯s using.¡±


    Her face gets that cute look that tells me she¡¯s thinking hard. She pops open a terminal and her fingers do a frenzied dance on her keyboard as she searches through the logs of her pattern matching code.


    While she does that, I start the video again. The pair of them stop two rows over from the rack where the drive went missing for a few minutes, then the woman moves her arm out of the camera frame and brings it back with something small, shiny, and rectangular that she surreptitiously drops in a pocket.


    ¡°There. She just pocketed the drive.¡±


    Lin looks up from her code. ¡°Good. But there¡¯s no way she could have reached it from there. Jeff has running nanobots then?¡±


    ¡°Only thing that makes sense. It also explains how he was able to pull it from the chassis without triggering any of the alarms and they didn¡¯t catch it until they did the inventory. It wouldn¡¯t be hard to set up a simple bypass using the nanobots so that the hardware sensors in the rack wouldn¡¯t freak out that the drive was gone.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± she exclaims. ¡°It¡¯s those glasses! They are patterned to fool most facial recognition algorithms, so the computer couldn¡¯t have picked him up on its own.¡±


    ¡°He always was a smart kid,¡± I say, stepping back from her desk. ¡°But who¡¯s that woman with him? She¡¯s got the same kind of glasses, and she definitely looks like she¡¯s either keeping him under guard or ready to guard him from someone else. I can¡¯t tell which.¡±


    ¡°Maybe both?¡±


    ¡°See if you can digitally scrub off the glasses and feed her face into all the databases we have access to. Let¡¯s see if anyone knows anything about her.¡±


    ¡°On it.¡±


    Her fingers fly again and the image on her screen focuses in on the woman¡¯s face. Her glasses highlight, then disappear. Lin is amazingly good with image processing software. Maybe I should have her take a look at my facial recognition code. I wouldn¡¯t mind more upgrades.


    ¡°OK. I¡¯ve submitted the image,¡± she says, ¡°but it¡¯ll be a while before we get results. So, why would your brother want a drive with nanobot code? Didn¡¯t he already have that already when you took back your gear from him?¡±


    ¡°No, what he had was different,¡± I tell her, settling into the chair at the small table in the center of the office and digging into my index for answers. ¡°The research lab he broke into had the software we actually install on the current generation of Butler bots. The brain-in-a-box software is the original stuff that the wild swarm wrote leading up to the Gray Goo Incident.¡±


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°The swarm wrote the code? I thought the swarm was running the code.¡±


    ¡°It did, and it was,¡± I reply. ¡°Genetic algorithm. Self-modifying.¡±


    Her face lights up in recognition. ¡°I studied those. I always wanted to try one out. They used to be pretty common, back before the world stopped doing learning systems.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, this is why they stopped. According to my father, the Universal Robotics swarm had some basic self-awareness. He described it as like a precocious child, both brilliant and terribly gullible at the same time.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s true,¡± Lin says, ¡°the bots were alive. The first truly new form of life the world has seen in billions of years. That¡¯s so amazing. So what happened to them? Or it? Was the whole swarm a single consciousness?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the way he described it. What happened was that he tricked it. Hacked it, though he would never have called it that. He hated the term hacking. But he fooled it into taking orders from him based on the promise of helping it achieve its priorities, then put it to work destroying itself. The intelligence of the swarm network was based on the distributed computing power of all the bots in it, so by the time it could understand what was happening to it, it had lost too many processors to be smart enough to do anything about it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible!¡±


    ¡°Well, to be fair, the alternatives weren¡¯t great. If it was just left alone, it would have just kept growing and eating, eventually consuming everything. It didn¡¯t have anything built into it that would have told it to stop. At least that¡¯s what my father¡¯s notes said. Plus, the government was ready to drop nukes on it. My father thought the bots would have survived those, and then would have had a good reason to change priorities from just growing and improving its designs. If my father was right, when that happened it would have turned its attention to making itself an unstoppable killing machine.¡±


    ¡°But what did it really want? What was it made for?¡±


    ¡°The company that made the swarm was trying to make von Neumann probes. Self-replicating space explorers. They weren¡¯t even supposed to go to nano scale, they were just programmed to try to make themselves smaller so they could be launched into space more easily. The bots were made to explore the universe.¡±


    She steps away from her standing desk and walks towards me.


    ¡°So there was a new artificial mind that just wanted to see the stars? And your father killed it?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not really dead. It¡¯s been running in emulations of its bot hardware in our data center for the last twenty years or so.¡±


    ¡°But it was self-aware,¡± she persists, sitting down with me at the table. ¡°Maybe it still is. That¡¯s slavery, or something close enough to it that the distinction doesn¡¯t matter. That fate might be even worse than it being dead.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, my father wasn¡¯t exactly a role model for ethics.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± she says, putting her hand on my arm. ¡°Mine wasn¡¯t either.¡±


    She pauses. Talking about our fathers is a risky proposition. Any time we even mention them there¡¯s a chance it¡¯ll trigger some pain from her past. I almost say that it¡¯s a good thing we killed them both, but I realize just in time that saying that wouldn¡¯t help. And there it is. We¡¯ve already hit that old, raw nerve. She¡¯s tearing up. I reach out and put my hand on top of hers. My relationship with Father was complicated enough and I knew him for less than a year. I can¡¯t imagine what it was like for her, living with her father and his abuse her whole life.


    ¡°You want to talk about it?¡± I ask softly.


    She shakes her head, tears flowing freely now. According to my index, she¡¯s going into a pattern that I¡¯ve seen many times. She¡¯ll cry, she won¡¯t want to talk about it, she¡¯ll cry some more, then finally she¡¯ll tell me something about her father or her relationship with him. At least it¡¯s been almost that exact pattern every time in twenty-six different events.


    Sometimes she talks about ways that her father made her life miserable: the unrelenting isolation, beatings for her mother back when she was alive, beatings for her after her mother died. She¡¯s never mentioned the other kinds of abuse other than that one time, and she was clear then that she never wanted to talk about that part of it with me. A few times she told me good things about him. The gentle way he would brush her hair when she was little, the special meals he would cook for her himself, even though they had a cook, or the presents that he would bring when he went away and came back home. She would cry even more when she talked about the good memories.


    She hasn¡¯t done this very often lately. It used to happen a lot more. It occupied quite a few of our evenings early on. We¡¯d sit in my room or hers next to each other and talk quietly, usually with the lights off so that Yang Song didn¡¯t think we were in there. Sometimes we¡¯d hold each other, but mostly we¡¯d just talk. She got better. After a few months, she only cried once in a while. It¡¯s been over a month now since we¡¯ve had a crying night. I guess we were due.


    I disengle our hands and gently wrap my arms around her. She nestles her face into my shoulder.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I tell her softly. ¡°Let¡¯s go talk in my room.¡±


    She nods. I think she knows how this will unfold as well as I do. A part of me wants to do something about Jeff now, but a wiser part of me, a part that Mom would be proud of, tells me to take care of Lin tonight. Jeff and the mystery blonde will still be out there in the morning.

 Tue 08/06 09:04:57 PDT

    ¡°So it looks like Jeff is back together with the CPP? And he has a working cloud for sure?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°Those are the only explanations we can come up with,¡± I answer. ¡°The woman that we spotted him with at the brain-in-a-box facility doesn¡¯t have any identity at all. No drivers license in the country matches her picture, no pictures of her anywhere on the internet either, and Lin¡¯s got a whole supercluster in the basement now that chugs on that kind of thing. If she had an identity that hadn¡¯t been totally scrubbed, we¡¯d know about it by now. So, we figure this is the CPP¡¯s signature disappearing magic. Meaning, Jeff is working with them again. And yes, he for sure used nanobots to grab the drive. The rack was in a camera deadzone so we don¡¯t have footage of the thing floating, but he and his partner in crime were like twelve feet away when they grabbed it.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Evan chews his lip for a minute. ¡°Why would he go back to them after slipping away once? What would he need them for?¡±


    ¡°Resources, probably,¡± Louise says. ¡°Those deep, deep pockets of theirs were probably handy for letting Jeff get his cloud fixed up and maybe even upgraded, not to mention whatever he has in mind next. We know what they want from him, some kind of limited disaster to get nanotech shut down forever. But Jeff wouldn¡¯t go along with that knowingly. He was afraid of the AI takeover, but deep down he always believed in Father¡¯s vision for using the bots to save the world as much as any of us. I wish we knew what he thought they were after.¡±


    ¡°What if we checked the Wallace Hospital where he was held before they absconded with him?¡± Lin suggests. ¡°Surely there must have been some correspondence between him and our nebulous adversaries before the event? Perhaps that might contain a clue to what he thought their arrangement entailed.¡±


    ¡°That was one of the first places we checked when we were first looking for him,¡± Evan answers. ¡°They kept all of his mail and turned it over to us. We didn¡¯t find anything useful. Mostly all he got was weird fan mail from some really fringe crazies. We even checked it all for secret codes and everything, but there was nothing suspicious at all.¡±


    ¡°Did we ever get the notes from his therapists there?¡± Louise asks. ¡°I remember we had the lawyers working on that when the whole Denver thing happened.¡±


    ¡°Never did,¡± Evan says. ¡°There wasn¡¯t a legal way to do it because of medical privacy laws and it didn¡¯t seem as relevant after he popped up. Then we had a lot going on and it just kind of fell off of my radar.¡±


    ¡°Hah! Should have put it in Noah¡¯s brain. He doesn¡¯t forget stuff anymore.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t all be as special as me.¡±


    ¡°Of course not, Noah. You are a very special boy.¡± She reaches over and pats my head condescendingly. I pull back as Lin laughs. ¡°But couldn¡¯t you use your special skills to just break in electronically and steal the records that way? That shouldn¡¯t be that hard, right? Aren¡¯t you and Lin some kind of hacker team now?¡±


    ¡°It would be nice if it were that easy, which is why Lin and I tried that already. No good. It looks like they keep them on old fashioned pen and paper locked up somewhere on site.¡±


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re volunteering for a field trip then?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°I can go. As long as the rest of you stay here to hold down the fort, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a problem if I¡¯m gone for a day or two. I won¡¯t be able to take the jet without breaking our grounding, but it¡¯s not too far to drive. I can keep a low profile and scan the files from way outside the hospital. What the CTTF doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt them.¡±


    ¡°Take some backup,¡± Evan says. ¡°At the very least you¡¯ll want a lookout.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m my own lookout,¡± I protest. ¡°I can see everything for kilometers in every direction.¡±


    ¡°We know what you can do. But even you have limits on your attention,¡± Louise says. ¡°If you¡¯re chained out to reach a room far from your body and focusing on copying documents, you might miss someone coming up on you. And what if the CPP or Jeff are having someone keep an eye on the place? Plus, I don¡¯t want a repeat of what you did to yourself in St. Louis. I know you needed to, but you know how damaging it is to your brain. Evan told me about how you¡¯ve been deteriorating again. I still don¡¯t want you pushing yourself.¡±


    ¡°Dammit, Evan,¡± I say with more irritation in my voice than I intended. Having my own culpability for my disability pointed out, even by my most trusted sibs, hurts more than I like to admit.


    ¡°What?¡± he says defensively. ¡°She was just across the room in the lab when you told me you were getting worse. I assumed it wasn¡¯t a secret.¡±


    Fair enough. I know when I¡¯m beaten. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll bring backup.¡± I don¡¯t mind that they¡¯re right, I just hate it when I¡¯m wrong.


    ¡°Take Lin,¡± Evan says. ¡°She can watch your back and you two can have a nice little road trip. You don¡¯t mind, do you Lin?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. It will be a pleasant outing for the two of us.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll call it date night for the week.¡± I give her my most charming smile.


    ¡°How special! We so seldom go on proper dates.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, nothing like breaking into a psych ward to steal patient files to bring out the romance.¡±


    Louise rolls her eyes. ¡°Will you two get out of here already?¡±


    ¡°Aw, but they¡¯re so cute together,¡± Evan says. ¡°Especially now that they¡¯re not fighting all the time anymore.¡±


    Fighting? Were Lin and I fighting a lot at some point?


    From Evan: Oh, haha, you probably can¡¯t remember it. Check your secret files sometime.


    He must have noticed my puzzled expression. Secret files though? I don¡¯t have any of those.


    To Evan: I don¡¯t even know what you¡¯re talking about.


    He shakes his head at me.


    From Evan: And you don¡¯t remember that you have secret files. Of course you don¡¯t. Because we erased out the part where we set up your secret files.


    I just give him another quizzical look and he shrugs.


    From Evan: Not important today, but we should talk about it later. Does Lin still connect right up to your brain these days?


    To Evan: Not much lately. Not since she finished reading my whole memory and got the telepathy thing working through her interface.


    ¡°Something you boys want to share with the group?¡± Louise asks. ¡°Or can Lin and Noah get going? If they leave now they can get there and back today. And Evan, Max, and I have some real work to do. We still need to figure out Father¡¯s notes on the implant upgrade so we can finally get the Geologists up to where we are. I have a feeling we¡¯re going to need them at full power sooner than later.¡±


    ¡°Then we shall depart henceforth. Hopefully returning with useful and relevant data to continue our efforts.¡± Lin grabs my hand and practically lifts me out of my chair with a combination of her pulling on one side and her bots pushing me from the other. She¡¯s gotten good with her cloud quickly. Maybe all that botball practice is paying off.

 Tue 08/06 04:42:11 PDT

    I pull the car around to the front gate. Lin is there waiting for me. So is Yang Song. I allow myself the luxury of a groan.


    To Lin: We have a chaperone on this trip?


    I get out so I can get the passenger door for her. It¡¯s date night, after all, even if we have to deal with a third wheel. Lin gives me a shrug as I come over and a look that tells me I¡¯ll hear about it later. Yang Song ignores me and gets her own door to the back seat on the driver¡¯s side. Something about the whole situation seems vaguely familiar, but I can¡¯t remember how. Lin gives me a quick kiss before she gets in, which is unusual for her out in public like this. Something about that seems familiar too, though.


    Lin starts tapping her fingers against her thighs as I pull the car out onto the dusty road.


    From Lin: Apologies. She caught me as I was preparing to leave and insisted on accompanying us. Sometimes it just isn¡¯t worth the argument to dissuade her.


    To Lin: Fine, but how are you doing that? The dev team hasn¡¯t had time to build a keyboard into the interface yet.


    She smiles slyly.


    From Lin: A girl has to keep a few secrets.


    To Lin: I guess we need to put in some better protections against hacking the interface, huh?


    She nods almost imperceptibly and taps on her lap some more.


    From Lin: By the time I¡¯m done with this, I¡¯ll know every back door and vulnerability. And I may even tell your developers all of them if you ask nicely.


    I smile and nod. Lin looks cute and a little embarrassed by the whole Yang Song situation, so I don¡¯t push back. I really don¡¯t mind that much that Lin¡¯s bodyguard/caretaker/almost mother/whatever is coming along. Maybe this will be the time she finally realizes that Lin and I are a good fit for each other.


    To Lin: Can we talk dirty in front of her and see what she does?


    Her fingers dance across her lap again. Part of me is jealous of how easy adapting to the new interface has been for her, but then I think of how much slower it is for her to type. For me, typing is essentially the speed of thought.


    From Lin: She¡¯s fluent in six types of martial arts and is sitting right behind you. You could try, but I can¡¯t promise that she won¡¯t kill you before you know what¡¯s happening.


    I laugh. I know I shouldn¡¯t, but feeling threatened by Yang Song just doesn¡¯t register for me. I could immobilize her with a thought. Or fling her out of the moving car. Or kill her in any of a dozen ways without lifting a finger.


    WARNING! LOG TEXT INDICATES MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    Not that I would. Lin wouldn¡¯t like me doing any of those things.


    ¡°So, Yang Song,¡± I say conversationally, breaking the silence. ¡°My grandparents say you¡¯re a serious player at Mahjong.¡±


    ¡°I learned from my grandfather,¡± she says. ¡°He was very good.¡±


    Her voice is much colder than I was hoping for. I guess I shouldn¡¯t have expected warmth. Lin keeps saying that she¡¯ll eventually see how great I am, but I¡¯m not holding my breath on that.


    ¡°I learned from my grandfather, too,¡± I tell her, sharing a memory from my index that popped up when I started thinking of the game. ¡°I never played enough to get very good though. My mom and I would just play with my grandparents once in a while.¡±


    ¡°Yes. He owns a set of tiles in the Vietnamese style. I had to show him how the game is played properly.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure how to respond to that. The car is silent for a while.


    ¡°Still,¡± she finally says, her voice softening a little. ¡°It was good of them to invite me to play with them. Your grandparents are good people. Work hard, always honest, take care of the children.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always thought so.¡±


    ¡°Noah takes after his grandfather, don¡¯t you think?¡± Lin asks. Now I¡¯m starting to wonder if bringing Yang Song along might have been Lin¡¯s idea. Force us to bond on a road trip like in a movie.


    The car is silent for another long stretch, as we turn from the long private road that leads to the campus and approach the freeway entrance.


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    ¡°I suppose he does,¡± she finally agrees. ¡°But he is still not good enough for you.¡±


    Wow. I figured something like this was coming, but that was a little more direct than I thought this was going to be. Part of me wants to protest, but most of me knows that she¡¯s right.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± Lin says, turning in her seat to face Yang Song. I love her for standing up for me, whether I deserve it or not. I also appreciate that she¡¯s willing to have this fight in English, in front of me. ¡°Noah is the best man I know. He¡¯s strong, he¡¯s brave, he¡¯s smart, and he¡¯s kind. He saved my life.¡±


    ¡°He did not,¡± Yang Song says forcefully. ¡°His sister, Louis, she is the good one. She saved your life.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± Lin says in a tone that matches. ¡°Not from the cancer. From my father.¡±


    ¡°Your father was a hero,¡± Yang Song says, her voice turning to razors. ¡°You didn¡¯t know him like I did. He did so many good things for China. For the men and women he commanded. He took care of you. It was not easy for him. Single father all those years.¡±


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that? I know. But you don¡¯t know what went on when you weren¡¯t around,¡± Lin says, anger rising in her voice. ¡°He did things to me. Not just the times you saw. All the time.¡±


    ¡°He was teaching you to be good. To act right.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Lin cries out. ¡°You would go home, and he would drink. If I did anything wrong, he would take his bamboo rod out of the closet, and he would beat me. Sometimes even if I didn¡¯t do anything wrong. He would take that damn stick and he would beat me. Then he¡¯d stumble to bed and pass out. If I was lucky. On the nights I wasn¡¯t lucky¡­¡±


    She trails off. The silence is the car gets crushingly heavy and lasts for twelve minutes and forty-nine seconds.


    ¡°Did you know my favorite times were the last few years with him?¡± Lin finally continues. ¡°It was when the chemo treatments made me so weak that he was afraid to touch me. He was afraid it would kill me. That was the only time I ever felt safe!¡±


    Yang Song sits silently, her face in the rear view a stoic mask. I want to reach out to hold Lin¡¯s hand, to comfort her, but something tells me to wait. They need to hash this out without my involvement.


    ¡°You know I loved my father,¡± Lin says after a long pause. ¡°but I hated him too. He hurt me more than I can ever express. He would have killed me one day if Noah and his family hadn¡¯t come into my life.¡±


    Yang Song sits silently as the mile markers go by.


    To Lin: You doing all right?


    Lin¡¯s fingers tap on her lap.


    From Lin: Yes. I need this.


    I love it when my instincts don¡¯t suck.


    To Lin: OK. I trust you. I love you. Let me know if you want me to kill her for you.


    From Lin: Not funny, but I appreciate it.


    Finally Yang Song speaks.


    ¡°I knew. I didn¡¯t want to know. But I knew.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Lin says.


    The car is silent for a long time again. The sun goes down and we¡¯re halfway to our destination.


    ¡°Does he make you happy?¡± Yang Song finally asks. ¡°This boy of yours?¡±


    ¡°You know he does,¡± Lin says fiercely.


    ¡°Noah,¡± she says, meeting my eyes in the mirror. ¡°Will you take care of her? Will you give her everything she deserves? She should be very rich, and you did not seem to have very much to give her.¡±


    I laugh.


    ¡°Yang Song, when you can do what we can do, money doesn¡¯t really matter that much. Mostly it just lets us do more world-saving projects. But yes. The Institute has recently solved its financial issues on a permanent ongoing basis. She¡¯ll always be obscenely wealthy with me for as long as that term means anything.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she says, crossing her arms. ¡°Then you will marry her.¡±


    Wait, what?


    Lin¡¯s reaction is even more surprised than mine if her pulse and pupil dilation are any indicator.


    ¡°Yang Song!¡± she shouts. ¡°You can¡¯t say that!¡±


    I pull the car over as fast as I can without losing control of it.


    ¡°You know what?¡± I say, turning to look at Lin. ¡°She¡¯s right. Evan¡¯s right.¡±


    I feel around for anything made of precious metal that I can scavenge easily. That necklace Lin¡¯s wearing. The index entry for it triggers. The jade pendant isn¡¯t worth much, but the gold is very good quality.


    ¡°I¡¯m stealing your necklace,¡± I tell her, reaching behind her neck and unclasping it.


    I need a stone. I could print one, but that takes forever and artificial diamonds are never as interesting as real ones. Yang Song¡¯s got a good one in her pendant.


    ¡°Yang Yang Song, does your necklace have any sentimental value?¡±


    Her eyes in the rear view look confused for a moment, then she smiles.


    ¡°No, I bought it in Las Vegas. You can have it if you pay me back.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I reach over with my bots and break the diamond from its setting, catching it before it falls. From the density and light refraction, it¡¯s good quality. I should be able to make something decent out of it. It¡¯ll at least work for now, and I can always swap it out later if Lin has issues with it. I discharge the batteries of a few thousand bots to heat a portion of Lin¡¯s necklace enough to form a smooth ring. I extend some prongs to mount the diamond. I let it rotate in the air between Lin and I. It looks pretty good for my first time forging jewelry. I suck the heat back out, charging the bot batteries back up. I let the ring drop into my waiting hand.


    ¡°Lin,¡± I tell her, ¡°you are the only woman that will ever understand me. I don¡¯t want anyone else. I just want you. Now. Forever. Always. How about it?¡±


    Song looks on approvingly as I hold out the ring to Lin. Both of them smile as Lin takes the band and slips it onto her finger. It fits perfectly, of course.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll do,¡± she says, examining the way the ring looks on her hand. Whether she¡¯s talking to me or the ring, I¡¯m not sure. It doesn¡¯t matter. Either way, it¡¯s a yes.


    Mom, I¡¯m engaged now. I hope you''re happy for me. I¡¯m as happy as I¡¯ve ever been.

 Tue 08/06 08:51:01 PDT

    We stop for dinner in a strip mall in a small city a couple of freeway exits before we get to Wallace Hospital. I would have gone for Chinese, but Yang Song vetoes it, saying the Americanized version is never good. We compromise on Thai food and end up in a place that looks like a dive but has some pretty decent curry. Lin¡¯s got a little bit of a dreamy look. I¡¯m not sure how much of it is from the catharsis of her talk with Yang Song and how much is from the ring that she keeps looking at and feeling. I turn on my overlay and see that she¡¯s looking down at it through her glowing green eyes and making tiny modifications to the setting. Good, I want her to be happy with it.


    We¡¯re done with dinner just in time for closing, which should get us to Jeff¡¯s institution late enough that it¡¯ll be nice and dark. We should be able to get pretty close and park somewhere where I can do a remote reach in, hopefully without anyone noticing us. I have Yang Song take the wheel as we get back in the car. She warns me that she¡¯s still not licensed here, but she¡¯s a good driver and it¡¯s a quiet night. She¡¯s going the speed limit, so there¡¯s no reason she should get pulled over for anything.


    ¡°You¡¯re all set for guard duty?¡± I confirm with Lin.


    ¡°Yes. The sentry routine is easy to use. I¡¯ll see anyone coming, if they come.¡±


    Yang Song takes the exit to Greenstown, a small, mostly agricultural community. According to my index, its biggest claims to fame are the quality of their lemon orchards and being the home of the Wallace Hospital, one of the most prestigious mental health institutions in the world. The small town has a single traffic light and an aesthetic that makes me think that it hasn¡¯t changed much in the last century. At the corner where we turn to head to the hospital, there¡¯s even a big old-fashioned house with a wide porch with a large man in overalls sitting in a rocking chair sipping a drink. He could have walked right into an old black-and-white movie and looked every bit the part of the farmhand. The illusion is only broken when he pulls out his mobile phone as we pull away.


    Small towns are weird.


    The street heading to the hospital is tree-lined and would probably be picturesque during the daytime. I stretch my cloud out as Yang Song drives at the slow speed limit of the small two lane road. The park-like grounds of the hospital are extensive and enclosed with a tall brick wall. I penetrate the interior and see that the lobby is lavishly furnished. It feels more like a high-end hotel than a hospital. Past the front desk there are recreational areas, some with unfinished paintings still on their easels, some with circles of very comfortable looking chairs clearly for group therapy. The rooms where I feel most of the patients sleeping look very comfortable, maybe because there are no hard surfaces available anywhere in them.


    All in all, it looks like a pretty nice place. Part of me feels good that we didn¡¯t just throw Jeff in a hole to rot, though that¡¯s kind of what I feel like he deserves now. Not that I¡¯ll have that option next time I meet him. He¡¯s much too dangerous to leave alive.


    ¡°We¡¯re close enough,¡± I tell Yang Song. ¡°Pull over whenever you find a good spot, please.¡±


    I finally find what look like the offices for the doctors as the car pulls onto the narrow shoulder of the road. There is a row of filing cabinets in each office. Yeah, as we thought, they still use old fashioned paper records. Everything about this town feels so old. I have no idea which doctors might have worked with Jeff, so I start popping open locks and looking at files in several offices at once. It would have been nice to just be able to read the documents in place, but there¡¯s not a good way to get enough light to read by while the pages are pressed together. I pull files out of the cabinet drawers just enough to read patient names. At least things are organized alphabetically.


    Reading out of multiple eyes at once and actually understanding what I¡¯m reading is a demanding task. Louise was right, this isn¡¯t something I could do while keeping a good lookout. I finally find files for Jeff in three different offices and pull them onto desks so I can get enough light on them to get them scanned in. The notes are copious. The files for Jeff are substantially thicker than most of the patient files in the cabinets. I start taking images of the notes, page by page, no longer bothering to try to understand them. We can figure out meanings later. One of the offices has a window with moonlight streaming in, which I take advantage of, but the other two have very low light levels that makes getting images for the pages take a while. Better to go slow than to risk alerting anyone by creating a light in there, though.


    Once I¡¯m in a steady groove, I try reading a little as I go, but the notes are mostly hand-written and none of my optical character recognition software is working on them. Trying to decipher three different doctor¡¯s scrawls by looking with my bot eyes while simultaneously making copies is just too much. Besides, Louise is probably right, I shouldn¡¯t push my brain more than I need to. It¡¯s a nice, quiet night. Lin¡¯s hand snuck into mine at some point, and Yang Song hasn¡¯t yelled at me for it. We¡¯ve got plenty of time. No reason to damage myself now. We can get everyone to help read through the notes back at campus.


    Several more minutes pass in silence. I finish copying the thinnest of the three files and stash it back in its cabinet, carefully relocking the drawer. The other two stacks of papers go a little faster now. Another ten minutes and the second one is done. Lin gives my fingers a little squeeze and pulls her hand away. I glance over and see that she¡¯s alternating between looking all around alertly and admiring her new ring. I focus on the scans, getting several pages at a time on that last file. Almost done, we should be out of here soon.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Noah,¡± Lin says suddenly, ¡°trouble!¡±


    That jolts my focus back to my body. I look around, not seeing anything.


    ¡°Where?¡± I ask.


    ¡°They just stopped behind us, a long way back¡± she says. The panic in her voice makes her Chinese accent re-emerge for the first time in a long time. ¡°Big car. Just a driver. Long guns inside, a couple of them.¡±


    I fling my cloud back that way. I¡¯m impressed that Lin felt the car approaching this far out. It¡¯s over a kilometer down the road. I get my bots to it just in time to get the sense of a high powered rifle being steadied on the rolled down window of the open driver side door of a large SUV. I feel the small part of my cloud still near me rushing to form a mass between me and the gun, a point shield. I feel the prick of bots being crushed and then a sting across my cheek, as the bullet is just deflected enough to avoid putting a hole in my head. A split second later I hear the distant report of the shot. Only something with a lot of power would stay that close to target after going through my shield, especially at this range. The rear windshields is a spiderweb of cracks.


    ¡°Down!¡± I shout, pushing Lin onto the floor below the back seat.


    I focus the sparse field of my bots near the SUV in on the rifle and get enough of them flooded in around its firing pin to disable it, but not before I hear and feel two more shots. My point shields are bigger and better positioned this time as more of my cloud has flooded back near my body from the hospital. Both bullets skim past the car without touching us.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± I shout to Lin and Yang Song as I dive from the car. I start by sprinting but soon I have enough bots to encase myself in a flight suit. I blast back towards the SUV, enfolding the sniper in an immobilizing mesh of bots as I go. By the time I arrive, he¡¯s struggling face down on the ground, arms bound behind his back, legs together and bent back so that his ankles reach nearly to his hands.


    I take a look at our assailant. He¡¯s well-muscled, with a stylized leaf tattoo on his left bicep. I check him for anything identifying, but he¡¯s got nothing but the clothes on his back, half a dozen long bullets, and his car keys on him. No wallet, no phone. From the look of him and how he made the shot from that distance, I¡¯d say he¡¯s military or former military. The gun is serious hardware. My index flags it as a TAC-50 sniper rifle. That thing would have made short work of me if I¡¯d been focusing more of my cloud forward into the hospital or if Lin hadn¡¯t shouted her warning.


    ¡°Who hired you?¡± I bark at him.


    He just grunts and continues to struggle against his nearly invisible bonds.


    ¡°Who hired you?¡± I shout again.


    He lifts his head and I see the many scars on his face and a sneering grin that tells me he doesn¡¯t fear me in the least. He mutters a curse and tries to flip over.


    I reach my bots into his mouth. His tongue is already reaching back towards his rear molars so I bind that up and start extracting all four of them. I don¡¯t know if there¡¯s redundancy on the trigger that I suspect is there, so I¡¯m not taking any chances. He screams. It turns out it¡¯s just in the right top one, and that¡¯s on the ground now. I nudge it to the side with my foot, getting it far enough away from him so that no amount of struggling will let him get near enough to do anything with it, but not so far that if it has a proximity switch on it that it would trigger and let him have the quick escape of suicide.


    ¡°Who hired you?¡± I say, more calmly this time as I release his slippery tongue from my cloud¡¯s grasp. A cold rage that feels as familiar as an old pair of shoes creeps over me. ¡°I had to take those teeth, and you know why, but we can do some more if you don¡¯t want to cooperate.¡±


    ¡°Tall, skinny guy,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t know his name, don¡¯t care, but he looked kind of like you.¡±


    Jeff. Of course Jeff. The big guy flexes and squirms some more, but my chains made of bots aren¡¯t going anywhere.


    ¡°How can I contact him?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± he says between more curses.


    I pry out the next four of his molars to the sound of his screams.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot of teeth left, and I only need a few answers. You wouldn¡¯t have taken this job without a way to get paid for it. How were you going to contact him for payment?¡±


    He just grunts and swears again so I start pulling the next four teeth from the back.


    ¡°Ow! Stop!¡± he cries out, spitting blood and teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Otis has the number.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Otis? Where can I find him?¡±


    I resume the pressure pulling on his teeth in case he has any ideas about holding out. Tears are streaming down his cheeks from the pain. He hesitates a moment more and loses the four teeth. I start on the next set.


    ¡°OK, OK!¡± he cries out, spitting molars. ¡°He¡¯s back in town. Big house on the corner, huge front porch, you can¡¯t miss it.¡±


    The farmhand with the phone.


    ¡°Big guy? Wearing overalls today?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± He spits blood. ¡°That¡¯s him.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say.


    WARNING! NOREPINEPHRINE/SEROTONIN LEVELS INDICATE MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    I ignore the warning and take grim satisfaction in dissolving him from the outside in as he screams. Sorry Mom. I know I shouldn¡¯t take pleasure in this, but I can¡¯t help feeling that I¡¯m doing the world a favor by getting rid of someone who shouldn¡¯t be on this planet. I scrub the red puddle from the asphalt and spread the matter from his body that I couldn¡¯t assimilate into the soil around the trees lining the road.


    I turn my cloud to the task of dissolving the SUV and soon the air around me is thick with my bots. Another few moments, and any signs that the man, the vehicle, or the gun were ever here are gone without a trace.

 Tue 08/06 11:27:49 PDT

    I fly back to the car on my engorged cloud. The gunman really was an impressive marksman to make those shots from this far away. I feel the vibrations of Lin¡¯s wailing inside the car long before my physical ears are close enough to hear her. I check the car.


    Shit.


    Yang Song is slumped against the steering wheel. Lin kneels on the ground next to the driver¡¯s seat, crying and holding a hand with no pulse. I focus my cloud and have a good idea of what happened by the time I arrive.


    Yang Song took a bullet wound to the head. She must have been hit by that first partially deflected shot. There¡¯s an entry wound, but no exit wound. The bullet was slowed enough by my shield then going through the driver¡¯s seat headrest so that it didn¡¯t blow all the way through her head. Instead, it penetrated into her skull and then bounced off the bone inside. Even if I had medical bots with me, even if I had given her my full attention as soon as it happened, and even if I were as good with them as Louise, there wouldn¡¯t have been anything I could have done to save her.


    ¡°Oh, Lin,¡± I say as I reach the car and open the door. ¡°I am so sorry.¡±


    It¡¯s some deep-rooted instinct that draws the words from my mouth, not anything I¡¯m actually feeling. Even as I say it, I know it¡¯s a lie. I don¡¯t feel guilt anymore. I¡¯m never really sorry for anything.


    ¡°No,¡± Lin says. Her voice is frozen fire. ¡°This was not you.¡±


    ¡°He was aiming for me.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Lin says again, even more firmly this time. ¡°You didn¡¯t fire at us. This is not your fault.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she says, with a finality that I can¡¯t argue with. ¡°Yang Song knew there were risks in coming with us. You did everything you could. If it¡¯s anyone¡¯s fault, it is mine. I should have been paying better attention.¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    She stands up and looks at me.


    ¡°If I don¡¯t get to blame myself, then neither do you.¡± If I can¡¯t feel real loss for the loss of all the family Lin had left, maybe I can at least keep her from hanging the guilt around her own neck. My cloud silently opens the driver¡¯s side door and lifts Yang Song¡¯s body from the seat. ¡°You gave us all the warning you could. That guy was a trained sniper. He was making shots way past the range that the clouds are designed to protect against.¡±


    I pop open the trunk and lay Yang Song¡¯s corpse inside as gently as I can.


    ¡°I saw what you did back there,¡± Lin says, her voice still icy cold with a little bit of her old accent. ¡°I heard it too.¡±


    I stop for a moment. I didn¡¯t realize she could see remotely. Would I have done things differently if I had known she was watching? I don¡¯t know.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could do that. The interface isn¡¯t supposed to have ranged vision or audio yet.¡±


    She reaches inside the car and retrieves a pack of tissues. ¡°The hardware abstraction layer wasn¡¯t hard to find, and I¡¯m that good.¡±


    I nod, silently waiting for her to decide that she can¡¯t be with me anymore. She takes a tissue and wipes the blood from my cheek where the bullet grazed me.


    ¡°You did well,¡± she says simply.


    She just saw me torture that guy and still isn¡¯t revolted by me. I really have found my soulmate.


    ¡°So, you know we have one more interrogation to do then?¡± I ask as I start cleaning the car. The broken rear windshield takes some attention to fuse back together. The fine wires in the glass had kept the pieces together, so I didn¡¯t need to hunt for the shards, but getting glass panels repaired and evened out isn¡¯t something the libraries automate. Making them usable again takes more time and attention than you might think.


    She nods, watching me work.


    ¡°You got the last one. I¡¯ll get the next one,¡± she declares. Her tone doesn¡¯t allow for any arguments.


    I finish extracting the blood from the upholstery and floor mats on the driver¡¯s side. The headrest isn¡¯t worth saving. Textiles are a pain anyway. I remove the bullet-holed, bloodstained piece and put it in the trunk with Yang Song. I swarm my enormous cloud back to the hospital and quickly finish copying the last pages of the final file, putting everything neatly back in place when I finish.


    ¡°Come on then. Let¡¯s go meet Otis.¡±

 Wed 08/07 02:14:36 PDT

    Noah,


    There is an entry in the index under Otis Johnson¡¯s name. Do not read it unless Lin asks you to. This same warning is there in the entry. She doesn¡¯t want us to remember what she did unless we need to. We don¡¯t want to remember it either. All we need to know is that it was ugly and it got results.


    Here¡¯s the takeaway: one of the first things Jeff did after he robbed us and stabbed Mrs. Hastings was to use some of the resources the CPP provided him with to set up this death trap. Otis got a fat monthly payment to stay in town and keep a small radio receiver on him at all times. I checked it out after Otis was dead and it was a modded out version of one of the debug access points Jeff stole from the lab, tweaked to pick up all the frequencies the bots can speak anywhere in a wide radius. It must have triggered as soon as we got into town. Once he got the beep from the receiver, Otis was supposed to call Keith, the merc that killed Yang Song. Keith had been paid an even more obscene sum to stick around town until his skills were needed and was promised double the payment once the job was done.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    And the really important part: Otis had a phone number to call once the job was done to report in and get the completion bonuses for both of them. Jeff would have wanted to hear about this, so there¡¯s a chance he might still have the phone that number goes to. Our first solid lead in way too long.


    Again, do not look in that index entry unless Lin asks you to. You really don¡¯t want to remember what she did. Just know that whatever you need to do while you¡¯re tracking down Jeff, Lin will understand. She gets it.


    Also, don¡¯t ever cross Lin.


    She can be more terrifying than you can possibly imagine.


    ¡ªNoah

 Wed 08/07 04:03:13 PDT

    The drive home is silent and uncomfortable. I had been thinking when we left that we might just stay at a hotel tonight and drive back in the morning, but with Yang Song¡¯s body in the trunk that doesn¡¯t seem like a great idea. So I¡¯m driving into the early morning hours, with Lin beside me gazing off into the distance.


    I know the numbness of shock is protecting her now, but eventually she¡¯ll feel the full impact of what happened. I just hope it doesn¡¯t send her spiraling down into another months-long bout of despondency. It feels like she¡¯s just barely recovered from the last one.


    I¡¯d be worried about falling asleep at the wheel, but the implant has a keep-awake function that I¡¯ve used a few times when I¡¯ve had more work to do than hours in the day. The slightly boosted norepinephrine levels from the implant function don¡¯t help any with the stress of the night¡¯s activities. I can feel my heart beating faster than it should. Louise says it¡¯s fine as long as we don¡¯t use the feature too often, or for too long. But I¡¯m sweating and shaking a little. Better than crashing on the side of the road though, especially with Yang Song¡¯s corpse back there.


    ¡°Will it feel good, Noah?¡± Lin asks abruptly. Her voice is still cold but her Chinese accent has disappeared again.


    ¡°Sorry, what?¡± I ask. I definitely need some context for that one.


    ¡°Revenge,¡± she replies. ¡°Jeff killed Yang Song. Or arranged it anyway. She was the closest thing that I had to a mother for most of my life. Will it feel good when we kill him?¡±


    ¡°Probably not,¡± I tell her, digging into my logs for my recollections from when I killed Father. ¡°When I killed my father I mostly just felt numb. Empty. There was relief, like a chronic pain was gone, but it didn¡¯t give me any happiness.¡±


    She goes back to staring off in the distance and doesn¡¯t say anything for a long time.


    ¡°We don¡¯t really have a choice in Jeff¡¯s case though. It has to be done,¡± I tell her. ¡°Not for the revenge, but because he¡¯s dangerous. He¡¯s already killed several people and he¡¯ll kill a lot more if he¡¯s left alone. Plus maybe everyone on earth if he goes all the way off the deep end or just accidentally screws things up.¡±


    She takes a long time to say anything again. Her eyes are closed. I¡¯d have thought she had fallen asleep if my bots didn¡¯t tell me otherwise based on her biometrics.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I miss her already.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    Several more mile markers go by.


    ¡°I want to kill him. I really want to kill him.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Will you promise me that I get to do it?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re there when I find him, you¡¯ve got it.¡±


    Her lower lip extends in a pout. She didn¡¯t like that answer.


    ¡°Lin, if I can possibly let you kill him, I will. But I¡¯m not going to keep him alive if I have a shot at him just so you can get a chance. You¡¯d rather he be dead, right?¡±


    She thinks for a moment. Her face relaxes and she nods. Better.


    The Sierra Nevada mountains give way to the open desert. We¡¯re almost home.


    ¡°We¡¯re moving in together,¡± Lin announces, her voice sleepy.


    ¡°You¡¯re already just down the hall from me,¡± I say.


    ¡°We¡¯re still moving in together. Choose a suite. Your room isn¡¯t big enough but there are some on the first floor that will work. Or you can knock out a wall and add one of the rooms next to yours.¡±


    ¡°OK.¡±


    This was definitely not the way I saw this night going. She seems satisfied and leans her head against the window.


    I don¡¯t think it will be a big change. We¡¯ve been sleeping in each other¡¯s rooms more often than not anyway lately. If I ever need to be alone, there are plenty of empty rooms I can commandeer. Without Father¡¯s baby-making project running, a big chunk of the residence is always sitting idle. I¡¯ve never felt tired of Lin¡¯s company yet, and I don¡¯t see any reason why I ever would. She¡¯s just about perfect for me in her broken way.


    Lin finally nods off on those last few miles on the freeway. It¡¯s nearly dawn when we pull into the campus garage. After I park, I gather her up with my cloud and float her sleeping body ahead of me as I head up the stairs to the residence basement. It¡¯s still early enough that we don¡¯t run into anyone as we go on up through the mansion to my room. Our room. Or maybe we will take one of the larger suites. I¡¯ll have to think about it. I lay Lin down on the bed and remove her shoes as gently as I can. I pull the curtains shut, then decide that¡¯s not going to be dark enough. I coat the window with a thick layer of bots, blocking the predawn light completely.


    I switch off the keep-awake function and feel relief as the jitters subside. I¡¯m proud of myself for having the presence of mind to drop Evan a quick message that he¡¯ll see when he wakes up, telling him not to let anyone go near the car. I task a contingent of bots with sucking the ambient heat in the trunk, not enough to freeze it, just enough to keep it cold. That should keep things fresh while we get a little sleep. We¡¯ll take care of Yang Song¡¯s body when Lin wakes up. She should choose what we do with her. Fatigue hits me like a hammer within a few minutes and I feel the world fading as I lay there with one arm around Lin.

 Wed 08/07 15:51:26 PDT

    Lin buttons the top button of the tuxedo shirt and looks me up and down.


    ¡°Put the tie and jacket on,¡± she commands.


    I grab the white bowtie and comply, using my bots since my fingers don¡¯t know how to tie one of these. I slip on the white jacket and she regards me critically for a moment.


    ¡°That will do,¡± she finally says with a sad smile. It¡¯s the first smile I¡¯ve seen on her face since before Yang Song died. I guess it¡¯s only been a day. Not even that. But it feels much longer. ¡°Thank you again for coming out on such short notice, Eduardo.¡±


    The diminutive tailor nods, double checking the pins at my waistline. According to Alan, his operation is the best tailoring shop in Vegas, and the only one big enough to get us all fitted today. It cost a hefty chunk of change to get him to drop all his other appointments to come down on a couple of hours notice. Not that I mind. Money doesn¡¯t mean so much to me now with that river of gold coming out of the mountain and augmenting our funds. It¡¯ll be weird to just stop worrying about the family¡¯s finances altogether, but that¡¯s where we¡¯re headed once the other new automines come online.


    ¡°Good,¡± he says through his thick mustache. ¡°Take him off. I have ready tomorrow. Who is next?¡±


    To Evan: You¡¯re up, come on in.


    Evan steps through the doorway with Valerie close behind him.


    ¡°Un desaf¨ªo. Bueno!¡± Eduardo declares, cracking a smile as he eyes Evan¡¯s massive shoulders. ¡°Last one too easy, this one more fun.¡±


    ¡°Black for him and all the rest of the boys,¡± Lin declares.


    ¡°White shirt, black jacket?¡± Eduardo asks. ¡°Is very traditional. Good choice.¡±


    ¡°Yes, do that,¡± Lin says. ¡°For him and the other brothers. Black shirts are fine too if they want them.¡±


    ¡°Black on black for me then,¡± Evan says.


    ¡°Muy bien. We get that done,¡± Eduardo says confidently, wrapping his measuring tape around Evan¡¯s waist. He¡¯s reaching for clothes from his massive rolling rack as we head out into the foyer of the residence. Siblings of all sizes are lined up at the doors to our makeshift fitting rooms, waiting for Eduardo and his assistants to measure them. I don¡¯t know why Lin decided that we all needed new formalwear for the funeral, but at this point I¡¯m ready and willing to give her anything she wants.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Lin says, leading me by the hand. ¡°Let¡¯s get her ready.¡±


    We head down to the garage. I release the bots that had been converting the trunk into a makeshift refrigerator. The outside of the car is dotted with condensation and cool to the touch as I open the trunk.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to see her again,¡± Lin says, turning away.


    ¡°You want me to just handle this?¡± I ask her gently. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be here.¡±


    ¡°No, I want to be here. I just don¡¯t want to look.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t make any sense to me, but I just go with it. I lift the corpse from the trunk and enfold her in an opaque wrapping of bots. Thinking better of it, I transform the wrapping into a sleek black box. A coffin, I guess. I scrub out the trunk and double check the rest of the car, making sure not to leave anything that might point to the vehicle as a crime scene. Not that I expect any kind of investigation, but you can¡¯t be too careful. We¡¯ll need to replace the headrest, but I¡¯m not in the mood to do the detailed work of recreating textiles right now.


    ¡°Alright, you can look now,¡± I tell Lin.


    She turns and sees the floating coffin.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take her up. I want to do this out on the field.¡±


    I float the coffin ahead of us as we make our way up the stairs and over to the grassy commons at the center of the campus. I¡¯ve been letting most of my cloud soak up heat and sun in preparation for this since I woke up, so I should have plenty of energy to get it done quickly and cleanly.


    ¡°Do you want to say anything first?¡± I ask Lin.


    ¡°Not now,¡± she says. ¡°We can have words later when we do the funeral. Just do it.¡±


    Lin told me earlier today that if this were a traditional service we¡¯re technically supposed to do the cremation after the funeral, but she would rather have me do it now. I¡¯m not going to say no. I don¡¯t know anything about funeral traditions from her birth culture, so it¡¯s the same to me either way. I nod and start discharging batteries, heating the box up to over a thousand degrees. The bots still streaming in towards the coffin get hot before they arrive, creating streaks of light as their tiny hulls heat up to incandescence. I¡¯ve never done anything quite like this, at least not on this scale, and the feedback sensations are new and different. The second body that is my cloud feels tingly and burning. Not in a painful way though, it¡¯s less like I feel the heat and more like I am the heat. I lay down protective layers of bots in an insulating formation below the coffin in time to stop the grass below from beginning to smolder.


    My overlay feeds me the reaction progress inside the box, the melting of fat, the breakdown of proteins, the evaporation of the water in her body. The buildup of gasses threatens to overwhelm even the incredible structural integrity of the coffin material formed by the bots. Just like I researched this morning, I form a secondary box on one end of the now-glowing coffin with a filtration system. On the other end I create an air intake, pumping oxygen in. The filter end begins to emit steam and carbon dioxide as the many compounds that make up the human body are broken down to their most simple states. I feel the steel point and copper casing of the bullet, near melting but not quite there. I grind them to a fine powder and eject them from the box, letting them fall to the ground. They have no right to belong with her ashes.


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    Some of the nannies and other staff stop to watch the cremation. Mrs. Hastings emerges from the residence and looks on sadly. My grandparents come up on either side of Lin and put their arms around her. Lin starts to wail. Not cry. I don¡¯t think there are even any tears. She wails. A high, keening expression of pure grief unlike anything I¡¯ve ever heard and hopefully something I never hear again. I want to join her, but I can¡¯t feel those kinds of feelings anymore and I know it¡¯s not my place. Instead, I express the hollow where grief should be in the intensity of the heat and the perfect decomposition of the tissue and bone.


    A whole bunch of siblings peek out from the residence doors. I feel Andrea fighting through them and emerging, striding purposefully towards us with a large object held in both hands. I turn around to look, and she¡¯s holding a green dragon that looks like it¡¯s carved from a massive dark emerald.


    Words in the same shade of green spin out into the air in front of Andrea.


    Yang Song told me once that we were wrong to use the dragon as a symbol for your cancer. The dragon is fierce and dangerous, but it is also wise and kind. Yang Song is the true dragon.


    Lin nods and cries as the words fade. Andrea puts the dragon on the ground as close to the incinerator as she can get without getting burned. The top part of the dragon opens up like magic, revealing the hollow interior. I check my index, and that¡¯s the most words Andrea has ever put together in any form since I¡¯ve known her. Writing that message must have taken her tremendous time and effort, probably more so than the statue. She must really care.


    The incineration is complete. I feed the batteries of my cloud off the abundant ambient heat, quickly cooling the dust that remains through nano-catalyzed endothermic reactions down to a manageable temperature. I funnel the remains carefully into the hollow in Andrea¡¯s creation. It fits almost perfectly, and Andrea seals the top seamlessly.


    ¡°Thank you, Noah,¡± Lin says, composing herself again. ¡°And thank you Andrea. It¡¯s beautiful.¡±


    Andrea smiles sadly and nods. Lin picks up the dragon urn and stalks towards the residence steps. I walk next to Andrea as we follow behind her. I turn to talk to Andrea quietly as we go.


    ¡°This was Jeff. He¡¯s responsible for at least eight deaths so far,¡± I say, including the hired team of Otis and Keith as part of his kill count. That only seems fair to me. ¡°Plus who knows how many others. Most of them were innocent, just bystanders in the wrong place at the wrong time.¡±


    According to my index, this is usually the part where she ignores me and walks away. This time is different though. She takes a moment to acknowledge my words, but finally nods.


    ¡°And now he¡¯s got a working cloud and he¡¯s shown that he¡¯s willing to let bots run wild. He could literally destroy the world. I need you off the sidelines, Andrea. You¡¯re so smart, you¡¯re so strong, and you understand Jeff as well as anyone in the world. We need you. You can help make this stop. Please. Please, help us.¡±


    We¡¯re inside the residence doors by the time she finally nods again. A tear runs down one of her cheeks as Lin reaches the center of the foyer. Siblings all around the edges of the room, still waiting for their fittings, look on curiously. She sets down the dragon.


    ¡°Noah, Andrea, a little help here please? I¡¯d like a monument. Something strong. Something beautiful. Like Yang Song.¡±


    Andrea and I look at each other and she starts swirling designs in the air in front of Lin for potential pedestals. I reach out to the west, stretching swiftly from the campus across the desert wastes to the foothills of the mountains where the Geologists told me the right kind of stone for something like this can be found. I start carving a chunk of granite big enough for any of the designs Andrea is showing. Another part of my brain assesses the structural integrity of the floor to see if it can hold the mass of the block I¡¯m freeing from the side of the mountain. Of course it can¡¯t.


    I start reinforcing the structural elements in the basement below. One of the storage rooms sprouts a new support pillar. I hope that doesn¡¯t get in anyone¡¯s way. The wooden joists and planks of the flooring under the tile get banded in alloys that will let them hold the tons of rock. The granite block is loose now and looks good. No significant structural flaws. I form a sequence of rollers and start moving it back towards campus. On its way I roll it past the replica campus that I built for practice a whole lifetime ago, back when I was mastering my cloud and Father was still alive. I should come up with a use for that place at some point.


    The rollers thunder along, dissolving as soon as the massive stone is past, forming in front of it just in time as the stone approaches. The thing is massive and the momentum on it is tremendous now that it¡¯s moving. Andrea and Lin have decided on a design for a fitting memorial. It¡¯s large but tasteful, about a meter and a half tall and one meter around. I guessed well on my block. We won¡¯t be able to use the foyer for large meetings anymore, but we were probably due for a new, larger space for that anyway.


    Andrea steadies the design in the air and starts working out details with Lin. I start doing the rough cuts on the stone as it moves. I¡¯ve got the basic shape right by the time I hear the rumbling of the rollers with my human ears. The younger kids look amazed as the massive stone rolls through the gates, across the grass, and up to the foot of the residence steps. The older sibs that have clouds of various versions look studiously nonchalant about it, but I can tell by their vitals that they¡¯re all impressed that I could conjure it up this quickly.


    I wave to my classmates along with the Roadbuilders and Doctors to give me a hand hoisting it up the steps and placing it gently in the center of the foyer. I could have just done it on my own, but I think this will give them a little bit of a sense of ownership for it.  I¡¯d have brought in the Geologists too, but they¡¯re still all out at the new automine site and won¡¯t be home until after dinner tonight.


    Andrea goes to town on the detail work for the monument, smoothing the surface and carving dragons and what look like Chinese characters into it. Since when did Andrea write Chinese? I don¡¯t have any record of that, but I guess I¡¯ve been out of touch with her lately other than my requests for help with Jeff.


    Lin looks on, nodding as Andrea works. I clear the dust as it comes off the hard stone, depositing it outside the campus walls. The rock looks gray from a couple of meters away but as I approach I see it¡¯s speckled with black and white and every shade between. It looks really good where Andrea has polished it. Before long, it feels like the whole campus is watching as Andrea sculpts. Lin cradles the dragon in her arms, waiting for the monument to be done.


    At last the top is finished, smoothed, and polished. Lin lifts the dragon on and Andrea slides it over, perfectly centering it and fusing the base to the pedestal. I didn¡¯t realize it, but I¡¯ve really missed working with Andrea. The three of us look at each other, then look at the dragon memorial. Lin smiles a broken smile.


    Andrea puts her arms around Lin and holds her for a long time.

 Wed 08/07 21:18:44 PDT

    ¡°What¡¯s the count up to now?¡± Louise asks, tossing another fresh coin onto the pile in the middle of the floor where Valerie and Lin are putting them into the small white envelopes they are folding themselves from some fancy paper that got delivered this afternoon.


    ¡°That¡¯s number fifty-seven there,¡± I tell her.


    Andrea, Evan, Louise and I continue minting coins from the ingots of gold the Geologists provided. They¡¯re stamped with a stylized dragon on one side and a picture of Yang Song in profile on the other. Designs courtesy of Andrea. She¡¯s really been great through all of this. The soft metal is easy to work with, but there¡¯s a lot of detail in each one. I was tempted early on to just build a press, but hand-making¡ªwell, bot-making¡ªeach one seems more appropriate.


    ¡°And how many do we need?¡±


    ¡°Two hundred and fourteen,¡± Lin says. ¡°That will cover all of the Butler siblings, miscellaneous family, and the staff. We should probably make a couple of extras in case I¡¯m forgetting anyone.¡±


    ¡°Why did we have to have so many brothers and sisters?¡± Louise asks, clearly not having a lot of fun with the task. I find it relaxing. With the template to copy, it¡¯s barely an effort for me. But then again, I¡¯m much more tightly attuned to my cloud than Louise is. For all her understanding of how the cloud and implant work, there¡¯s no substitute for the constant and obsessive practice I¡¯ve put in.


    ¡°Because Father was a dirty old man with a god complex who needed an excuse to bang a different twenty-something girl every day,¡± Evan responds dryly, tossing another coin on the pile.


    ¡°I can make them if you¡¯re tired, Louise,¡± I offer, tossing three more coins onto the pile. ¡°It¡¯s really not a big deal.¡±


    ¡°No, I want to be part of this. I¡¯m just not used to doing this kind of detailed work with the standard bot models. They¡¯re usually just for moving big stuff around for me. It¡¯s giving me a headache.¡±


    ¡°You could try it with the medical bots,¡± Valerie suggests. ¡°You¡¯re so good with those.¡±


    ¡°No good,¡± Louise answers. ¡°The medbots don¡¯t have the right attachments to work on metal.¡±


    ¡°Here, let¡¯s make an assembly line for it. You just make the blanks and I¡¯ll do the detail work.¡±


    She agrees and that goes better.


    ¡°Did you get the flowers you wanted ordered?¡± Valerie asks Lin as she seals another envelope.


    ¡°Yes. Alan found a florist in Phoenix that had enough white irises. They¡¯ll be here in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Was that the last thing you needed?¡± Evan asks as he finishes another coin.


    ¡°Marc still isn¡¯t home from Vegas with the spirit paper and the incense,¡± she says, ¡°but he should be back here any time. And I still need confirmation on the band.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the paper for?¡± Louise asks.


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    ¡°Ghost money. We¡¯ll burn it,¡± Lin responds. ¡°It ensures a safe journey to the next life. I don¡¯t believe in any of those traditions, but Yang Song did. We¡¯ll burn all of her belongings at the same time.¡±


    ¡°I guess that explains the wood pile and the big new firepit Gramps was shoveling out,¡± Evan says. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if that was something he was doing for the food or what.¡±


    The amount of burning involved in this funeral seems a little weird, but I don¡¯t say anything. None of my sibs seem bothered by it, so it¡¯s probably fine.


    ¡°No, for the meal we will be catering in some authentic Chinese cuisine. There was a restaurant in Las Vegas that Yang Song particularly enjoyed.¡±


    Lin¡¯s phone rings. ¡°Hey Alan.¡± She listens for a moment. ¡°Thank you. Exceptional work on everything today. I appreciate it more than I can express.¡±


    She disconnects.


    ¡°The band is arranged,¡± she reports, folding another envelope. ¡°They¡¯re flying in from San Francisco tonight.¡±


    ¡°Good, I was worried you wouldn¡¯t find one,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°It certainly helps that there are lots of expatriate Chinese on America¡¯s west coast,¡± she says. ¡°And it appears that quite a few of them maintain some of their traditions.¡±


    We work in silence for several minutes.


    ¡°That¡¯s one-fifty.¡± I pop another five coins onto the pile.


    Andrea smiles and slides ten more over. The number 160 pops into the air above the pile then evaporates in a white puff.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t the people attending normally supposed to give the money, not get the money?¡± Evan asks. ¡°I read that somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Very little about our situation could be considered normal,¡± Lin says, cracking another sad smile. ¡°But yes. Traditionally the invitees give money to the family. Then, following the funeral proceedings, the family gives out small envelopes with coins. Since we¡¯re going to be all one family now, I thought this was the best way to keep the spirit of the traditions.¡±


    Everyone perks up suddenly.


    ¡°All one family?¡± Louise asks. ¡°Did something happen that we should know about?¡±


    ¡°Apologies,¡± Lin says. ¡°I had intended to tell you, but the events of the day interceded and I neglected to make the announcement. Noah and I are now formally engaged.¡±


    A chorus of squees come from the girls and Evan.


    From Evan: Congratulations man! I knew you¡¯d see the light soon.


    To Evan: Yeah. You were right.


    ¡°Ring!¡± Valerie insists. ¡°Where¡¯s the ring?¡±


    Lin looks down at her hand. ¡°Oh. Apologies again. I had it on last night. I wore it to sleep. When I woke up, I removed it when I took my shower. Noah, can you check our bathroom?


    ¡°It¡¯s there,¡± I say, feeling it on the countertop by the bathroom sink. ¡°One sec.¡±


    I grab it and pull it under the door, down the hallway, and through the open doorway into Lin¡¯s waiting hand.


    ¡°Ooh, shiny,¡± Valerie says as Lin puts it on. She holds out her hand for Valerie and the others to admire it.


    ¡°Wait, did you say our bathroom?¡± Evan asks.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lin declares. ¡°Noah and I will also be moving in together permanently as soon as we can find the time to make the arrangements in our quarters.¡±


    ¡°See!¡± Evan says to Valerie. ¡°It does make sense to move in together even if you¡¯re already in the same building.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I bet Noah doesn¡¯t snore,¡± she retorts.


    ¡°Noah totally snores. I¡¯ve heard him snore.¡±


    ¡°Not like you do,¡± I claim, accessing my logs. ¡°I¡¯ve got it down that you snore every single night. I¡¯m surprised Valerie even lets you have the room next to hers.¡±


    Andrea snorts and starts laughing, then Valerie joins in. It¡¯s contagious and soon even Lin is laughing, which turns into crying, then laughing again. Then they¡¯re all crying and laughing.


    I love my family so much. I just wish I could share half the feelings that they¡¯re experiencing.

 Thu 08/08 15:03:26 PDT

    We¡¯ve got a couple of hours before the start time for the funeral. Lin is fussing over her speech back in our room, so I¡¯ve got some time free. I head to my office. No better way to honor Yang Song than to find the one responsible for her death, I figure. The CTTF reports have piled up, I¡¯ll get through those later. First up, I want to get that phone number to General Whitman¡¯s team and see what they can do with it. I should have done this yesterday, but my logs show me that I didn¡¯t have a spare moment from the time I woke up until we went to bed.


    We went to bed. Together. Lin and me. That was a nice thing, even without any sex. A whole new level of intimacy. I wonder if I really do snore. Lin hasn¡¯t complained, so I don¡¯t care what Evan says.


    I finish the message to General Whitman and start looking at the notes that Yang Song died for. I¡¯m not great at reading handwriting generally, and this is doctor handwriting which is much worse. It only takes me looking through a dozen pages before I realize how hopeless this is for me. I can¡¯t make heads or tails of any of them. Maybe Lin can come up with an algorithm that will be able to turn them into readable text. I hand over the pages to Alan to get them scanned in so that we can have them as files to collaborate on tomorrow.


    I turn back to the reports from our own surveillance network. Nothing definitive there. Small increases in missing persons cases in the metropolitan areas of New Orleans, Seattle, San Antonio, and Cleveland. I check demographics on them, mostly looking for spikes in male twenty-somethings. None of them are big enough deviations from the historical data that Lin has aggregated that they couldn¡¯t just be normal fluctuations. Not that we even have any reason to think that Jeff is actively gathering test subjects again. I guess it depends on what he¡¯s trying to do. Jeff had a long time to think about this.


    Just in case, I¡¯ll have to get Lin to check the results against her growing dating app profile database. There¡¯s always a chance that Jeff might be careless enough to try using the same technique again. My index triggers and reminds me I still need to order her some more hardware for her cluster downstairs for that project now that we have plenty of funds. Of course, all of that will have to wait until after the funeral too.


    My schedule dings with a reminder to go get changed. I head back to the residence, passing the monument topped with Yang Song¡¯s ashes in the foyer on the way in. I push open the door to our room and walk in on Lin half-naked as she¡¯s getting her white funeral dress on.


    There¡¯s an awkward moment before she gives me an embarrassed smile and waves me in. Am I supposed to knock on my own door now? Maybe I should just let my bots have free access to what used to be her room all the time. Another thing on the growing list of things to talk to her about after we¡¯re done with the events today.


    ¡°Perfect timing. I thought that I was going to have to figure out how to zip myself up with the bots. It¡¯s so hard to work with something you can¡¯t see.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I say, sidling behind her and zipping up the back of her dress. ¡°For me, it¡¯s not bad.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. Take a look at my eulogy, please,¡± she says, pointing to the papers on the desk in the corner.


    I pick up the sheets and start reading.


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    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t put this in your interface app. You can read it like a teleprompter. I do that whenever I have to talk in front of crowds.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even think of that.¡± She takes the first page from me as I finish reading it. She starts typing into the air in front of her, her fingers flying silently. I hand her the next pages as she needs them.


    ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± I assure her. ¡°Yang Song would have loved it.¡±


    I get my all-white tuxedo on just in time to head down. Most of the siblings have gathered in the foyer, all dressed in black and white. The nannies seem to have their hands full keeping the younger boys from trying to climb the dragon memorial. I¡¯m amazed that this much tailored formalwear got made overnight. Eduardo and his crew are worth every cent of the small fortune we paid them. Grammy and Gramps come down the hall followed by Mrs. Hastings.


    By the time everyone is gathered, the foyer is full. Just as well that we didn¡¯t try to put chairs up, it¡¯s standing room only. When Lin steps up to the podium, she¡¯s barely visible. I should have thought about this before, but I¡¯m still sitting on a literal truckload of bots, so I raise both her and the podium on an impromptu platform made of bots that gets her head and shoulders above even Evan. She takes the lift in stride and delivers her eulogy.


    It¡¯s good. She talks about Yang Song¡¯s life. It¡¯s mostly stuff I had in my index already. I had done my homework on Yang Song and had Father¡¯s fairly comprehensive intelligence files, but the way Lin talks about her paints a different story even with most of the same information. I¡¯d never thought of her as particularly nurturing, but when Lin describes how Yang Song used to take care of her after her chemo treatments, I can see her in a different light. The stern warrior that I knew becomes a gentle caretaker. I wish I¡¯d ever been able to see that side of her.


    Afterwards, there¡¯s food and mingling. The bao rolls stuffed with meats or sweets are great. I¡¯m lukewarm on most of the rest of it. I guess I like Americanized Chinese food better. The younger kids run amok, of course, even with their nannies trying to corral them. Lin doesn¡¯t seem to mind. The rest of the sibs are more sedate. This is our third funeral over the last couple of years and it¡¯s clearly bringing everyone¡¯s minds back to Father¡¯s and Chad¡¯s.


    Thinking of Chad, there are Keeya and Lucie. Lucie¡¯s belly is so swollen it looks like she¡¯s about to pop. Keeya hovers attentively near her, getting her everything and making sure she doesn¡¯t exert herself. It¡¯ll be nice to have a baby in the nursery again. It¡¯s been so quiet in there for so long.


    ¡°I am so sorry about Yang Song,¡± Keeya says, releasing Lucie¡¯s arm to embrace Lin. ¡°But I hear that congratulations are in order for the two of you!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, thanks.¡± I tell her. ¡°I guess word gets around fast.¡±


    ¡°It does.¡±


    Lin pulls at my arm. ¡°Come on, it¡¯s time for the fire.¡±


    She gets out ahead of me and motions to the band to start playing. There¡¯s a surprising amount of brass and percussion going on as what looks like a marching band starts moving in a slow circle around the grassy commons, playing their oddly melodic Chinese dirge. Lin ignites the fire pit, already laid out with Yang Song¡¯s belongings. She joins in the procession behind the musicians and soon we¡¯re all arranged into a big circle around the fire, slowly marching along. Lin takes my hand as we walk. I like that.


    ¡°Remember this,¡± she says to me, leaning in close. ¡°Write as much as you need to, but please make sure you remember all of this. It means a lot to me. This is the time when you became my only family left.¡±


    ¡°I will. I promise,¡± I tell her.


    She squeezes my hand, lifts up her face, and wails along with the music. Several of the musicians join in. They¡¯re not just the band, they¡¯re also professional mourners. The whole thing is a little alien to me, but if it helps Lin process her grief, I¡¯m all for it. I just hope it works better for her than Mom¡¯s funeral did for me, though I can¡¯t even pretend to feel what I described in my old journals anymore.

 Fri 08/09 09:11:14 PDT

    Lin takes a look at a few pages of the notes from one of the doctors and shakes her head. She switches to the file from the next doctor and just sighs. When she picks up the pages from the third one, the one with the copious notes, she steps away from her desk and walks around in a tight circle, pulling at her short hair.


    ¡°Are all American doctors illiterate? Or was it just these three?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of a thing here for doctors to have bad handwriting,¡± I tell her. ¡°Are they better about it in China?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t speak for all of them, but the ones that treated me could all write characters I could understand. This? This is just nonsense!¡±


    To Andrea, Marc, Evan, Louise: Can you come help us with something in my office?


    From Andrea: Y. 5.


    From Evan: Yeah, be there in a few.


    From Louise: Can it wait 20 minutes? In the middle of something.


    From Marc: I¡¯m on my way.


    To Louise: Sure, come when you can.


    ¡°OK, I¡¯m pulling out the big guns,¡± I tell Lin. ¡°Siblings will be here in a few.¡±


    Lin steps back to her desk and starts clipping small pieces of the images, breaking down the scanned version of the pages. Each segment has what looks like an individual word from the captured text. Smart. Once we start decoding what any of these actually mean, she can apply her pattern recognition software and get every instance of the word replaced with something legible.


    Marc pops in.


    ¡°Noah! Hey, Lin!¡± He is as cheerful as ever. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°Come here and take a look at this.¡± I hand him a page. ¡°We¡¯re trying to read all of these pages. Can you make out any of this handwriting?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. Let me take a look.¡±


    He peers at the screen for a moment.


    ¡°¡®Jeff made good progress today,¡¯¡± he reads aloud. ¡°Then some word I don¡¯t know, ¡®olanzapine¡¯ maybe?¡±


    Lin turns to her computer and does a quick search.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a real drug.¡±


    ¡°OK, then it says ¡®Olanzapine treatment is showing good results. Jeff was able to discuss his father without violent outbursts for the first time in our session today.¡¯¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re amazing, Marc,¡± I tell him. ¡°How can you read that?¡±


    ¡°It just looks normal to me,¡± he says, glowing at the praise.


    ¡°Here, try this one,¡± Lin says, switching to the notes from one of the other doctors.


    ¡°Sure. ¡®Patient refused to speak during today¡¯s session. One full hour of complete silence. His stare is unnerving. I¡¯m going to talk to Dr. Jeffords tomorrow about changes to patient¡¯s group assignment. Putting him in with Alvarez may have been a mistake.¡¯¡±


    Lin types as Marc reads, getting a text transcript to compare to the illegible mess that only Marc can read. Evan and Andrea show up, see what we¡¯re doing, and take seats at the table, ready to help. By the time Louise shows up, Lin has used Marc¡¯s input to crack one of the doctors¡¯ handwriting and is running his whole set of notes through a processor that spits out plain text to various screens around the room.


    ¡°Take a look at this,¡± Evan says, as Marc and Lin continue with decoding the other two doctors¡¯ scrawls. ¡°¡®Patient is obsessed with the failure of humanity. Frequently discusses eradication of the species as an improvement for the planet.¡¯¡±


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    Louise leans over to see the section he¡¯s reading. She shudders. ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±


    ¡°Not any worse than this part,¡± I say, getting to a relevant passage in the notes I¡¯m reading. ¡°¡®Jeff spent the whole session today describing what he calls the Human Hive. He believes that a direct mind link between all humans using his father¡¯s inventions will create a single thinking entity from the whole species. I asked him what that would mean for free will and individual rights. He told me we wouldn¡¯t care about those things once we were part of a collective. We will be like cells in a single body. Delusions are not getting better, recommend increasing dosage of antipsychotics.¡¯¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s what he comes up with when he¡¯s getting counseling and medication, I don¡¯t even want to think of what he¡¯s got in his head now that he¡¯s unrestrained,¡± Evan says, shaking his head.


    ¡°But we need to get in his head,¡± Louise says. ¡°We need to figure out what he¡¯s planning or we¡¯re going to end up with a hive mind for real. Or a wild cloud programmed to eat all humans. Or something even worse that we haven¡¯t gotten to yet.¡±


    ¡°We cracked the next set!¡± Lin declares from her desk.


    I access the new file and close my human eyes. I start screenscraping the next set of nightmares at a mind-blistering speed. Marc continues quietly reading to Lin in the background. I tune it out. I¡¯m more interested in what I¡¯m reading. I know I¡¯m at least partially responsible for creating the monster that Jeff is now, but the more I dig into this, the more I feel like this was all hiding just beneath the surface anyway. I¡¯m just the one who woke it up.


    I find where he tells one of the doctors about me. It¡¯s surprisingly low on hatred. I come off as the first one in his life that he ever felt really understood him. I not only destroyed him, but I somehow managed to convince him that I was his only real friend in the process. I haven¡¯t found anything in the notes so far where he even blames me for pushing him to kill Father. He must have known it was all me though. Why else would he have set up that sniper at the Wallace Hospital. He had to know it would be me going there.


    Another mystery of the mind of Jeff that I don¡¯t know if we¡¯ll ever solve.


    If I¡¯m reading between the lines right, Jeff seems to think that a lot of the conspiracy garbage that I fed to him to break his mind were his ideas in the first place. Who knows? Maybe they were. Just because I came up with them to torture him doesn¡¯t mean that he didn¡¯t invent them independently before I ever saw the Butler Institute campus. For all I know, my claims resonated with him because he already suspected them. Or maybe he just internalized what I told him so much that later on he thought they were his. I need a second opinion.


    ¡°Hey Evan, check page 132 of the new set, would you?¡±


    Marc pauses his dictation for a moment. ¡°Did you just skip to there? How did you get to that part so fast?¡±


    I have to check my index to realize that Marc is the last one in my class who still doesn¡¯t know the extent of my brain damage and what I have to do to compensate. I guess my workarounds are convincing enough.


    ¡°I just do a lot of reading, so I¡¯m fast at it.¡±


    ¡°I wish I could do that.¡±


    No, you really don¡¯t, I want to tell him. You don¡¯t have any idea what this costs.


    I don¡¯t say it. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to work,¡± I say instead. ¡°We¡¯ve got to be close on that third set, right Lin?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°Another few pages and I think I¡¯ll have a big enough sample set to automate the rest of it. Come on Marc, read this one for me.¡±


    Evan makes eye contact to catch my attention.


    From Evan: I don¡¯t know if he actually came up with that stuff on his own, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re wondering. I don¡¯t know why he¡¯d lie about it though. Maybe he was closer to crazy when you started on him than you thought.


    To Evan: OK. I¡¯m not sure if that makes what I did better or worse.


    From Evan: I don¡¯t think it matters at this point.


    I give him a nod, then get back to work. More reading injects another batch of Jeff¡¯s insanity into my head. Page 171 describes something almost exactly like the excruciator that was presented by one of the scientists that Lin¡¯s father connected us up with in China. That sort of thing led me to slaughter a whole room full of respected conference attendees for just planning it. Then there¡¯s the cyclone of death there on page 189. That¡¯s disturbing, since it means that he¡¯s already acting on at least some of the plans he was thinking up and talking about with his doctors. But it¡¯s also good news, since it means we can actually use these notes to predict what he might do.


    We work through the day and late into the night, only stopping for food and bathroom breaks, piecing together every possible plan that Jeff might be putting into effect. Over and over the Human Hive idea keeps resurfacing, to the point where all the doctors start just abbreviating it as HH.


    Marc bails out first around one in the morning, barely dragging himself to his room in the dorms before he crashes from exhaustion. Andrea calls it quits next, projecting a parade of Z¡¯s coming up from her head as she walks out. Valerie doesn¡¯t last much longer, and takes Evan with her. Louise has always been more of a night person than most of the Butlers, so she¡¯s still going strong at two in the morning.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s take a snack break,¡± she says. ¡°If we¡¯re going to do a proper all-nighter we¡¯re going to need to refuel.¡±

 Sat 08/10 02:08:53 PDT

    The three of us make our way down to the cafeteria¡¯s kitchen. I find some cold cuts in the walk-in fridge leftover from today¡¯s lunch and get started making us some sandwiches at one of the prep counters. Lin insists we also need vitamins in our diet and washes some of the berries that I think are supposed to go on the yogurt parfaits in the morning.


    ¡°So why is he so obsessed with this hive idea?¡± Louise asks as she opens an industrial sized jar of mustard and hands me a knife. ¡°Where did he even get that from?¡±


    I have a vague feeling that I know the answer, but it¡¯s been long enough since this morning that not much of my daily reading is still in my wet brain. I have to search back through my electronic archive as I slice tomatoes and stack slices of ham and turkey before I¡¯m ready to answer.


    ¡°That one is entirely my doing,¡± I finally tell her. ¡°You remember back when we were getting ready to kill Father. Back when I wrecked him. I used to talk to him every day, planting seeds of ideas to stoke his paranoia.¡±


    ¡°I remember that. I seem to recall I didn¡¯t think it was a great idea.¡±


    ¡°My notes from the time tell me that you didn¡¯t want a lot of details on how I was going to line Jeff up to take the fall for us.¡± Louise lowers her head a bit and nods in acknowledgement, then starts putting away the ingredients. ¡°But let¡¯s not drag that all up. It worked.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t deny that. So where did the human hive idea come from?¡±


    I hand her one of the plates with a sandwich on it and Lin adds a handful of blueberries.


    ¡°Part of it was from a movie. The one where everyone is plugged into some giant virtual reality system run by robots and then one guy gets out of his real world prison pod and then somehow needs to go back into the simulation with imaginary guns and martial arts or whatever to save the day.¡±


    ¡°I remember that one.¡±


    ¡°So the big reveal of that thing was that the robots had turned people into batteries, used our body heat for power.¡±


    ¡°Which was stupid. So many easier ways to get heat. Even without the sun. If you¡¯ve got a whole planet¡¯s worth of resources, just drill a hole deep enough and you have all the heat and power you ever wanted, no giant factory of people in pods required. Or use hydro power, or wind, or if you¡¯re stupid enough to want to use biological sources, grab literally any other mammal and farm them without the need for a clearly contrived mind control scheme.¡±


    ¡°Right. But I thought, what if they actually had a premise for the film that made sense? Like what could the humans provide that the machines couldn¡¯t easily get from other sources? Creativity. Imagination. True randomness. Aesthetics. Perspective.¡±


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    Louise takes a bite and chews for a moment. ¡°That does make a lot more sense.¡±


    ¡°I know, right? So I decided to make a new theory for Jeff to believe in based on that. The secret meaning of the ¡®elevate humanity¡¯ part of Father¡¯s credo. I told Jeff that this was what Father was planning to do with the bots in the long term. His plan, according to my horror story, was that he was creating a hybrid collective intelligence with the swarm AI in charge. The AI would basically milk the captive humans for creativity and imagination and all that stuff that the machine mind couldn¡¯t provide on its own. I told him that we were the test subjects to make sure the tech could integrate with human brains through the implant. Once it was all tested out, Father was going to flip a switch and the bots were going to fly out everywhere and merge with everyone, force install an implant like ours, and the whole world would become slaves to it.¡±


    Lin just nods. She knows all this already, having read it out of the same memory logs I¡¯m reading it from now.


    Louise rolls her eyes a bit and swallows a berry. ¡°And he didn¡¯t think about any of the issues involved with that? Like giving everyone lethal infections by having a bunch of unsterilized bots flying into their skulls? Or the difficulty of performing the install on someone who¡¯s not only not sedated but is actively resisting? Or maybe that people would fight back like in the movie and nuke everything?¡±


    ¡°At that point he wasn¡¯t exactly rational about these theories I was feeding him. I¡¯m sure in his mind he assumed that Father had already figured out solutions to all the hard parts. But this one got under his skin a lot more than most of them. It frightened the guy nearly to catatonia¡ªmore than the idea that Father was a mass murderer or anything else. It was what he thought was happening the day he broke. The day I broke him.¡±


    ¡°But Jeff¡¯s not going to actually try to do that, is he?¡± Louise asks. ¡°He¡¯d have to grapple with those hard part problems, and as we both know, Father didn¡¯t leave behind any solutions to them. Probably because he couldn¡¯t even conceive of what we¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m kind of worried that he might. I agree that there¡¯s no way it would actually work. But that doesn¡¯t matter. The only thing that matters is whether Jeff believes it enough that he would try.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s smart enough to know not to try that.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not, though. I mean, he¡¯s smart. We all are. But you know as well as I do that Jeff¡¯s smarts are in very specialized areas, and broad strategic long-term planning isn¡¯t one of them. Think about it. He¡¯s already let unrestrained bots loose twice, with no plan for stopping them other than that we would handle it.¡±


    She ponders that for a long minute as we eat.


    ¡°OK. Fine. But why would he want to? What would make him go from thinking it¡¯s the scariest thing in the world to something he wants?¡±


    ¡°It makes perfect sense to me,¡± Lin says. ¡°He was betrayed by the people he trusted the most. He has every reason to abandon any faith he had in humanity. Perhaps he thinks that a world run by a machine mind would be an enhancement over the status quo. If he started with your father''s fundamental philosophy, that the world was in jeopardy and needed to be saved by an intelligent elite, it isn¡¯t a great stretch of logic to make that essential saving force a sentient artificial intelligence instead of a family of nanotech empowered philanthropists.¡±


    Louise starts to nod. ¡°I guess I never thought of it in those terms.¡±


    ¡°Because you don¡¯t think like Jeff,¡± I tell her. ¡°And it¡¯s a good thing, too. One of him is more than enough.¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Lin says. ¡°I think I can get another hour or two in before I hit my limits. Let¡¯s get back to work.¡±

 Sat 08/10 07:51:19 PDT (DELETED Sat 08/10 12:49:06 PDT)

    I wake up terrified, jolted from sleep by a terrible vision. Fleeting memories swirl in my mind, horrific images of people being turned into robotic zombies. A familiar face, gaunt and hateful, taunts me over the zombie horde. I feel like I should know his name, but I don¡¯t. My whole body shakes as I try to get a grip on where I am. The room is dark, the windows blacked out. A dream. Just a dream. A message stuck inside my field of vision tells me there''s a letter to myself that I need to read, but I¡¯m too groggy to even think about doing that and I really need to pee. I make my way to the bathroom, take care of business, and head back to bed.


    Something is wrong.


    There¡¯s someone in my bed.


    ¡°Who are you? What are you doing here?¡± I demand, turning on the light.


    ¡°Hmm? Oh, hey Noah.¡± The pretty young woman with short, dark hair rubs the sleep from her dark eyes. ¡°Come to bed. Did you wake up before your alarm? You were going to set it for later since we worked so late last night.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I repeat.


    ¡°Oh, you haven¡¯t read yet.¡± She yawns. ¡°That¡¯s OK. You¡¯ll know me in a little bit.¡±


    She must be referring to that message telling me to read. I go to open the message but then she rolls quickly across the bed towards me. Her hand reaches out and touches me in an extremely intimate way. Who is this girl? And what makes her think she can just grope me like that?


    ¡°Actually, wait,¡± she says, her pink lips curling into a devious grin. ¡°Don¡¯t read yet. You owe me one, and this will be fun.¡±


    ¡°Look, you seem very nice and all,¡± I tell her, pushing her hand away, ¡°but I¡¯m not that kind of guy.¡±


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    ¡°Oh, but you are,¡± she says, sitting up. I can see she¡¯s wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. She grabs my arms, surprisingly fast, and pulls me towards her. An invisible force pushes me from behind as she pulls my hands into her soft bosom. I lose my balance and fall right on top of her. ¡°You are exactly that kind of guy.¡±


    She proceeds to start kissing me in a way that I can¡¯t resist. I kiss back, fiercely and hungrily. Why am I so intensely attracted to her?


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I ask again as she moves her lips down to my throat.


    ¡°I¡¯m anyone you want me to be,¡± she says between hungry kisses. ¡°Now take off your boxers. Access level Alpha granted.¡±


    Something tells me I shouldn¡¯t do this with a stranger, but a more primal part of me demands I comply. I hope this isn¡¯t a huge mistake, but I can¡¯t resist the commands of this dark-haired beauty. And she has a lot of commands: some that she speaks, some that appear like magic as text in the air in front of me.


    Afterwards, as I start to know who I am again, Lin snuggles against me and scratches my back lazily with one hand. ¡°Was it fun for you too?¡±


    I don¡¯t respond right away. ¡°It was, uh, different. Kind of hot.¡±


    ¡°You seemed to enjoy it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I did. I especially liked that thing you were doing at the end. Maybe we could do more of that some other time when I know that your name is Lin.¡±


    ¡°Well, you did say that I could do whatever I wanted with you even if you couldn¡¯t remember. I thought this was the kind of thing you meant.¡±


    I look back in my logs to find the conversation I had with her where I said that. Yeah, she¡¯s right. I explicitly gave her permission to do this kind of thing. And this was probably exactly what I was thinking at the time.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess I did. I don¡¯t know. It seems like it has some potential to go wrong and end up with one or both of us getting hurt. Emotionally or physically.¡±


    I imagine myself reacting differently than I did this morning. If she had said things differently, done things differently, I could have lashed out instinctively. She could have been hurt. She could have died.


    I can¡¯t lose her.


    I need her.

 Sat 08/10 11:03:58 PDT

    Other people read so slowly. Even smart people like Lin and my siblings. I¡¯m going through the latest batch of CTTF reports while everyone else is still crawling through the now fully decoded doctors¡¯ notes. I¡¯ve got my own conclusions, but I want everyone else¡¯s independent opinions so I feel like I can¡¯t even talk about what Jeff is going to do next until they¡¯re through reading.


    There were missing persons increases in New Orleans, Tallahassee, Albuquerque, and Des Moines this morning. I feed the new data into one of Lin¡¯s algorithms and see each of the cities rise in probability as the most likely location for Jeff by a few percentage points. Still much too far from certain to do anything about, but if we keep gathering data we might one day have a good idea for a place to start looking for him.


    ¡°Is it lunchtime yet?¡± Marc asks.


    ¡°Another hour,¡± Louise answers, flicking her tablet to the next page.


    Marc sighs and goes back to reading. I glance over his shoulder with my bot eyes and see that he¡¯s further along than any of the others, almost halfway through the full body of notes. He really is a wizard with the spoken and written word. Like an anti-Andrea. Andrea is still on the fourth page of notes and seems to be mostly lost in thought rather than paying attention to the text in front of her. I consider nudging her, but I¡¯m just glad she¡¯s willing to help at all.


    ¡°At least it¡¯s not a barbecue day,¡± Lin says from her standing desk. ¡°I always get hungry early when I smell the pit fired up.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Evan agrees.


    ¡°Yeah, this whole place stepped up their food service since Gramps got here,¡± Louise says, looking up from her reading. ¡°I bet his restaurant was great.¡±


    ¡°Best barbecue in Colorado,¡± I reply, absently pulling the information from my index. ¡°Or at least that¡¯s what he always told me.¡±


    ¡°You never ate there?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Not that I remember. I probably did. He was still running it up through most of my early teens.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got the worst memory, Noah,¡± Marc chimes in.


    ¡°Yeah. I do.¡± I flip to the next report. I know he doesn¡¯t mean any harm, but it stings all the same. Maybe I¡¯m extra sensitive because of this morning. I don¡¯t want to be mad at Lin for playing with my mind and body like she did, but I think maybe I am. I know she didn¡¯t mean any harm, and it was fun in a disturbing way. And I did basically tell her to do it. It¡¯s probably my fault anyway.


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    The room goes quiet for a while. I finish with all the current CTTF reports and start in on investigating potential places Jeff might be using in all the top cities that Lin¡¯s algorithm identified. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll do storage units again, Jeff knows we¡¯ll be looking for those. Warehouses, maybe? Unused industrial spaces, maybe? Empty homes or office space? No, probably not those. Too much risk of a realtor or owner or curious onlooker coming by. Jeff could probably make short work of anyone who came, but that would cause a trail potentially leading to the location and I don¡¯t think he wants to attract attention yet. The complexity of most of the things he might be trying to do are a couple of orders of magnitude harder than the work he did on the self-installer, so I suspect that he¡¯s going to want a place he can work out of for a while and run longer term tests.


    A message pops on my computer¡¯s screen. It¡¯s from one of General Whitman¡¯s guys with the response to the update I gave them with Jeff¡¯s phone number. A mobile with that number has been popping up once a day almost since the time Jeff robbed our lab. It connects to various cell towers around the country, but only stays active for less than a minute then disconnects. Long enough to check for messages, I¡¯m betting.


    There¡¯s also a strongly worded reminder in the message that we are not to interfere with CTTF operations. Still grounded, then, even with what looks like a good lead.


    ¡°Come on man. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    I look up and see Evan standing by my desk. It takes me a moment to realize the room has emptied except for him and Lin.


    ¡°Oh, Lunch. Right. Let me just finish this one thing. Go ahead without me, I¡¯ll catch up.¡±


    Evan looks like he wants to say something, but then he glances at Lin and just shakes his head. ¡°Sure, brother. Take your time.¡±


    Lin comes over as Evan walks out. She runs her fingers along my arm and up to my shoulder, where she lets it rest as her other hand plays with my hair. ¡°I really love you, do you know that?¡± she asks.


    ¡°I do. And I love you too.¡±


    ¡°That thing this morning. Maybe it would be better if you just forgot about it. I thought it would be fun for both of us, but I¡¯m worried you don¡¯t feel the same way.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°But I do.¡± She plants herself onto my lap. ¡°Our relationship is everything to me. I want it to be perfect.¡±


    She¡¯s so cute like this, her body warm against mine. I should probably say no, but what harm could it do to make one little change and forget something I¡¯d really rather not remember anyway?


    ¡°If it means that much to you, then fine. But just this once. Remember, we decided no more messing with my memories.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Just let me plug in and I¡¯ll take care of it. Then we¡¯ll go get lunch.¡±

 Sat 08/10 19:09:10 PDT

    The Doctors and the Roadbuilders classes are out on the commons playing botball as we return to the lab from dinner. I wonder what that looks like for the siblings and staff that don¡¯t have overlays and can¡¯t see the small swarms of bots chasing after the ball. To them, it must just look like a bunch of teens shadow boxing on the side of the field while a ball jumps around on its own in the middle of the grass. Walter from the Roadbuilders whoops with excitement and all the Doctors groan as the ball suddenly jumps into one of the soccer goals someone put up. Score one for Walter¡¯s class, I guess.


    Louise steps over next to me and Lin as we walk.


    ¡°What would you think about me going to medical school next year?¡± she asks casually.


    ¡°Can you?¡± I ask. ¡°I thought you needed a Bachelor¡¯s Degree first. Did you somehow get one of those when I wasn¡¯t looking?¡±


    ¡°I did, actually. The Institute is partnered with UNLV and I¡¯ve been getting college credit for years. You could probably get one too if you want, just talk to Mrs. Hastings about it. But anyway, I¡¯m already accepted to a medical program. At Johns Hopkins.¡±


    ¡°Are you finally going to meet your mother?¡± Lin asks excitedly.


    My index trigger reminds me that Louise¡¯s mom teaches there. No. Mom seems like the wrong word. Her biological mother. They still haven¡¯t met, but my index says they¡¯ve emailed a lot and talked on the phone.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Louise answers. ¡°She actually helped me get accepted outside of the normal matriculation process. Between her advocacy, my MCAT score, and the power of the family name, I got permission to start there next fall. If I perform well, the whole Doctor class could go the following year.¡±


    ¡°That could be helpful, having some actual M.D. credentials for you and all of them,¡± I tell her. ¡°Better than Father¡¯s plan of just having them cure cancer from a country where they won¡¯t be sued for practicing without a license. Sounds like a great idea if we can make sure that Jeff doesn¡¯t end the world between now and then.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Louise agrees. ¡°Save the world first, go to school second. That reminds me, Lin. Did you ever decide on Stanford for next year?¡±


    Another index trigger reminds me about Lin¡¯s Stanford acceptance. She¡¯d initially planned to have already started this year, but they¡¯ve been willing to defer for a year given her situation.


    ¡°That would depend on whether Noah is up for moving to Palo Alto with me,¡± she says as we enter the research center. ¡°I¡¯d like to go, but I¡¯m not leaving my fianc¨¦ for it.¡±


    I haven¡¯t even thought that part through. What would I do there? I guess I could see if I can enroll too, although I¡¯m not sure how much my brain can do actual learning anymore so it kind of feels like it would just be a big exercise in cheating with my implant. Not so different from the tail end of my educational program here then.


    Or maybe I could move the whole campus out there. The weather would be nicer. I think the only reason we¡¯re here in the middle of the desert is that Nevada¡¯s sex work laws were compatible with Father¡¯s baby production operation. Well, that and being near the massive fields of Father¡¯s solar panels that power half the country, but those stopped needing any human maintenance years ago. Now that we¡¯re not broke anymore thanks to the Geologists and with the Syntech stock price recovery, we could finally do the big split with the corporation next year and have enough money to buy a chunk of that obscenely expensive California real estate and relocate.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I tell them. ¡° Let me think about it once we get Jeff handled.¡±


    Everyone else is already in my office when we get there. Looks like they¡¯re finally all done reading through the notes. Or at least they¡¯ve all read everything that they¡¯re going to read. No one is actively flipping through them anymore.


    ¡°Are we ready to start reviewing?¡± I ask, putting up a big blank bot projection screen near the wall.


    Nods all around. Good.


    ¡°So, what does everyone think that Jeff is planning to do? And was anyone able to come up with what expectations or restrictions we think that the CPP folks will put on him?¡±


    ¡°Human hive.¡± Almost everyone says it at once. I thought so already, but it¡¯s nice to have concurrence.


    ¡°But I don¡¯t know what the CPP gets out of that,¡± Evan says. ¡°It¡¯s going to take him a lot of research before he moves on it, and it¡¯s not big and flashy like they¡¯ll want. I mean, if he were to do it, and actually pull it off, it would basically be invisible. So I think he¡¯s going to work the hive secretly, while he¡¯s doing something else for the CPP, or at least making them think he¡¯s doing something else.¡±


    A chorus of agreement runs through the room.


    ¡°So did anyone find anything in the notes that gives any clues about specifics for what the CPP wanted?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t find anything like that,¡± Louise says. ¡°If he had advance notice of his jailbreak, he didn¡¯t say anything to any of his doctors that indicated it.¡±


    Everyone else nods. Dammit. I was hoping at least one of them had seen something that I had missed.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s assume Evan is right, that he¡¯s promised the CPP something beyond his human hive dream. Maybe he¡¯ll do it for them, maybe not. He¡¯s already escaped them once before going back to them, so we can¡¯t assume the relationship there is stable. But I suspect that whatever he¡¯s offered in exchange for their backing probably involves both the original swarm AI, since they went through all the effort of stealing that, and collecting human test subjects, since that would advance his real agenda. I¡¯m thinking we list out all the options we can think of based on his psychiatric notes that he might be working on, and come up with counters for each one. We can¡¯t let him move forward with the human hive plan, but it¡¯s just as important not to get our tech banned forever. We still have a world to save once this crisis is over.¡±


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    ¡°I think your premise is right,¡± Evan says. ¡°So the plain old creeping death swarm is out. He wouldn¡¯t need test subjects for that.¡±


    ¡°Same with his idea of just having the swarm dig straight down and consume the earth¡¯s core for energy and materials,¡± Marc adds.


    ¡°The nano puppet army is a possibility, though that¡¯s not as showy. Kind of has the same issue as the human hive in visibility. Not sure the CPP would accept that.¡±


    Andrea weaves her hands and a small horde of green zombies march across the floor, then disappear in a puff of illusionary smoke.


    ¡°Right, the zombie plague variant of the puppet army. That one is in,¡± I say, adding it to the growing list on my projected screen.


    ¡°What about the slow incubating nano-pandemic,¡± Louise says. ¡°The one he talked about with Dr. Jeffords.¡±


    ¡°Which one was that?¡± Marc asks.


    ¡°The one where the medbots spread like a disease, but don¡¯t cause any symptoms until they¡¯ve infected a big enough chunk of the human population. Then they just kill everyone all at once. I kind of think he was just messing with the doc on that one, but he might be doing the same thing with the CPP.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. The nanoplague.¡± Marc nods.


    ¡°Yeah, that one,¡± Louise confirms. ¡°We should probably add a non-sneaky version of it too, where it just kills people as it spreads. Jeff didn¡¯t talk about that, but the CPP might have pushed it. Either way, if people start dying mysteriously and hospitals find out that there are nanobots in their systems, the publicity would probably get the CPP what they want.¡±


    I put both flavors down. ¡°Right, fair enough.¡± I add it to the list. ¡°Any others?


    ¡°Not that he¡¯d need test subjects for,¡± Evan says, flipping through his notes, and the others all nod. ¡°But, he¡¯s probably doing a bunch of the smaller projects he talked about. Small scale flashy stuff. We know he¡¯s done at least one of those, and he could have more tricks along the same lines of the death tornado he built.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, good point. The dev team already has a good counter to that one, as well as all the standard attacks we all have, the projectiles and zappers and consumers. But yeah, we¡¯ll want to get the defenses against the others he talked about in therapy.¡±


    I add deathpits, vacuum traps, death from above, surgical strikes, and lightbending invisibility to the list of things we need the dev team to help us work on. And RF jammers. Those have bitten us way too many times for us to not have a good response by now. Some of those would be easy enough to counter for everyone with an implant, but we¡¯ll want coded solutions built into the control software so that the contact interface folks can use them. We have quite a few people running those that we¡¯ll want to be able to call in for backup if things get bad. And the last thing we want is to lose Valerie, Lin, or one of the younger sibs because we didn¡¯t plan ahead.


    We start whiteboarding responses to each one. By the time we¡¯re too tired to go on, I think we have enough for the dev team to work with for all of them. I write up our solutions and send them over to Chuck and Marcus to start coding with their team. I¡¯ll give them a call tomorrow to firm things up, but this should be enough for them to get started. I feel my siblings file out of the office as I write. Lin comes around behind my chair to take a look as I finish up.


    ¡°Come on, lover,¡± Lin says as I hit send. ¡°You look stressed. I¡¯ll give you a massage.¡±


    She puts her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. I feel the tension under her fingers. I hadn¡¯t realized I was so knotted up.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no to that. I should probably set up a regular appointment with¡­¡± I grasp for a name but it won¡¯t come, and nothing pops up from context. Another indexing cross-reference failure. I¡¯ll have to look it up and add a trigger. ¡°You know. The one on staff. That does the massages. The one you go to.¡±


    ¡°Janet,¡± Lin fills in for me. ¡°She¡¯s good, but for what I have in mind, I¡¯m better. Here, lean forward a little.¡±


    I feel a tickle up and down my spine as she squeezes both of my shoulders. The tickling spreads all over my back, giving me a thousand pleasant touches all at once. How is she managing to control the bots like that with both hands occupied? She must have hacked the controls some more. Lin¡¯s getting really good with her cloud. Potential other uses of the bots spin through my mind. I hadn¡¯t ever suggested using the bots for anything intimate before¡ªit seemed a little weird¡ªbut Lin is starting to make a good case for it.


    ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m going to need more power for my data center downstairs.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Power is easy. We¡¯ll get Marc to have the younger kids make a new solar array and some more batteries as a training exercise. That¡¯s good practice for them anyway. Did you get some more hardware I don¡¯t know about?¡±


    ¡°I did. Twenty-four new racks.¡± She digs her thumbs in between my shoulder blades. The pressure on my tight muscles hurts for a minute, then feels fantastic as the knots start breaking down. She¡¯s doing some of it with her fingers and some of it with her cloud and I can¡¯t tell where one ends and the other begins. ¡°I used a combination of Institute funds and my father¡¯s ill-gotten gains. I hope that was alright.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re using your servers to help with our Jeff search, so I figure that¡¯s a fair use of Butler family money. And since a bunch of your father¡¯s money came from the CPP, it¡¯s nice to have them fund our side of the fight for once.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s the temperature situation down there? We have to be getting near the capacity of the liquid cooling system with that many processing nodes running.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still within acceptable parameters. I think I can add another dozen racks before we¡¯ll need to renovate the refrigeration.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty serious server farm you¡¯re running down there at this point. You have some big plans for it once we don¡¯t need to process a whole internet¡¯s worth of intel in our manhunt?¡±


    Her fingers slip up from my back and start rubbing my temples. It feels divine. ¡°Are you trying to flatter me by complimenting my hardware?¡±


    ¡°Uh, sure. If that manages to work, then yes. Also, never stop doing what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    She laughs. ¡°I¡¯m just wondering when you¡¯ll begin to reciprocate. With your exceptional control of your nanobots, I would expect that you could do wonders far beyond my meager efforts.¡±


    I shrug and obey, disabling the buffer I usually keep between my bots and other people, then surrounding her with my own cloud and lightly brushing the skin of her back like she¡¯s been doing to me.


    ¡°Ooh, that gives me chicken skin.¡±


    ¡°Goosebumps?¡±


    ¡°Whatever. Do it again.¡±


    I do, and she shudders in delight.


    ¡°After your massage we¡¯re going to do that some more. Come on,¡± she says, taking me by the hand and pulling me up from my chair. ¡°Let¡¯s go to our room. What I have in mind next requires a little more privacy.¡±

 Mon 08/12 10:14:39 PDT

    Chuck and Marcus fill my screen as I give them the details on what we expect Jeff might have planned. Chuck¡¯s smile fades quickly as he contemplates some of the more horrific ones. Marcus gets even twitchier than normal. Once I¡¯m sure they understand what we need, and that it¡¯s a high enough priority to drop everything else, I say goodbye and disconnect.


    I glance at my schedule. The next call on my docket is with General Whitman.


    ¡°Is this Noah Kimball calling?¡± the grizzled voice on the other end of the connection says.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I still don¡¯t know why I call him sir. Something about his bearing seems to demand it, even over the phone. ¡°I just wanted to follow up on that phone number that we gave you. If you were able to track it to a specific location, we could go there and do some investigations that I¡¯m not sure your team could do without us.¡±


    ¡°Yes, about that. I saw that report. You still didn¡¯t tell us how you got that number. How do you even know it¡¯s him?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s him, sir. And I¡¯m afraid I still can¡¯t tell you how we know that he was using that number.¡± Not without implicating myself in a couple of deaths anyway.


    ¡°Well then,¡± he says dismissively, ¡°we can¡¯t put it under active surveillance. Not without enough evidence for probable cause. There¡¯s something in this country called the Constitution, and we stand by it. Be glad we were willing to look at it at all.¡±


    I suspect that he¡¯s lying¡ªthat his people very much have the number under surveillance but that he doesn¡¯t want to share his intel with us¡ªthough through a phone call my polygraph is very nearly useless so I can¡¯t be sure. I don¡¯t push back on him. I¡¯m not scared of many people. Given what I can do, Jeff is the only one that really makes me worry. But if I had to put together a list of people that still manage to intimidate me with words alone, General Whitman would be right near the top of it.


    Well, nothing to do about it now and there¡¯s no point pushing if he¡¯s not willing to give up any info. ¡°Thank you anyway, sir.¡±


    ¡°And what makes you so sure about this? Are you aware of any imminent threats that we don¡¯t know about?¡±


    ¡°Nothing imminent that we know of, and we¡¯re working on solutions to all the potential threats we can think of. I¡¯ll send you a full report later today of what dangers we suspect Jeff might be considering.¡±


    ¡°You know this would be a lot easier for everyone if you¡¯d just agree to equip some of my agents with your gear?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. But you also know that one of my father¡¯s highest priorities in creating the Butler Institute and working internationally was making sure that he never handed full control of his tech over to any government body.¡±


    ¡°Tom and I argued about that more times than I can count. He¡¯s still wrong, but we¡¯ll honor his wishes. Mostly because it would take an act of Congress to reverse the other wrong decision that says this technology shouldn¡¯t be a military secret. But that was all before your time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Anything else to report?¡±


    ¡°Just that we very strongly recommend not taking any direct action against Jeff at this time if you were to locate him. If we take a swing and miss, he would probably just disappear again, and we may not find him again until it¡¯s too late. Or worse yet, he¡¯ll prematurely activate whatever he¡¯s got planned which could quickly spiral out of anyone¡¯s control. Even if we get him, it¡¯s very likely that he has some deadman switches set up that could cause big problems. The list of things he might be working on contains some literal world-ending events. Knowing where ground zero is ahead of time and what the triggers are could make the difference between life or death on the planet.¡±


    ¡°Your concern is noted,¡± he says in a tone that tells me we¡¯re done.


    ¡°Thank you, sir. I¡¯ll let you know when we learn anything new.¡±


    Blah. Not that I expected much, but that was a full-on strike out. I hang up and check my schedule again. No more calls for this morning.


    To Lin: Hey there. You want to come up to the office and work on something with me? Or better yet take a break with me?


    From Lin: Be there in a moment. I meant to come up earlier but I found myself distracted by Chad.


    Chad? Chad¡¯s dead. Or my memory is wrong again. I should see what she¡¯s talking about. I feel her out on the commons, sitting on the grass and holding a baby. Keeya and Lucie are there, but something is different about Lucie. From the air vibrations around them, I¡¯d guess they were laughing about something, but I value their privacy enough not to form a mic. When did Lucie have her baby? I must have felt it when that happened. How did I not log that?


    Strange. I¡¯ll have to check my software and make sure I don¡¯t have any new bugs. Maybe I can get Lin to help with that. She passes the baby back to Keeya and comes up to the office.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°That baby is so cute,¡± Lin beams as she walks in.


    ¡°Sure. They all kind of look like aliens to me.¡±


    ¡°But cute aliens!¡± she insists.


    ¡°Sure. I guess they¡¯re cute enough.¡±


    ¡°We should definitely have one. Or maybe three. Not right now, of course, but eventually.¡±


    I can¡¯t even imagine fatherhood. How would that even work with my mind the way it is? Time to change the subject. ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll be up for coming to morning workout tomorrow? It¡¯s always more fun when you¡¯re there.¡±


    Her smile fades and she gets an irritated look. Her vitals jump from calm to agitated.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m still in mourning.¡±


    ¡°OK, just asking. Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°Because you think I¡¯m starting to get fat?¡±


    Where did that come from? ¡°No! I think you look great. I was just asking.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to make me run laps next?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I laugh. ¡°I trust you to make good health choices. If you don¡¯t want to do morning exercises with me, that¡¯s fine. I just thought it was something fun for us to do together.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t think I¡¯m getting fat?¡±


    ¡°Even if you were, you¡¯d still be beautiful to me.¡±


    That was clearly the wrong answer. Anger flashes in her eyes as her arms cross. Her blood pressure jumps.


    ¡°You do think I¡¯m fat!¡±


    ¡°No, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I spent most of my life trying not to die from cancer. I went months at a time barely able to eat anything or keep anything down. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s too much to let me enjoy some food now that I can.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t tell you what to eat or not eat,¡± she says, advancing on me. ¡°I don¡¯t force you to exercise!¡±


    ¡°But I¡ª¡±


    ¡°And now you think I¡¯m fat and ugly! You won¡¯t want me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Lin!¡± I shout. She stops cold as if I had struck her. I put my hands up defensively. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to yell. Just listen to me for a second. Please.¡±


    She nods slowly, but the wounded look that had filled her face lingers.


    ¡°That all sounds like something Yang Song would say to you. I never worry about your weight. I think you¡¯re great just the way you are. If anything, you should gain a little more. I love that you have some curves now.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± she asks, her blood pressure dropping. ¡°You don¡¯t want me to be skinny like I was when we met?¡±


    ¡°No! You¡¯ve read my logs. Right from the start I thought you¡¯d be cuter if you weren¡¯t so thin. You look way better now.¡±


    ¡°OK,¡± she says, her anger subsiding. She pushes me gently down into one of the chairs and takes a seat on my lap. ¡°I¡¯m not too heavy for you like this?¡±


    She¡¯s definitely not. She¡¯s not fat, just pleasantly curvy. Comparing her old index pictures to what I see now, the weight she has added since her skeletal days has been in all the right places. Yang Song must have been really mean to her about her weight.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re just right.¡±


    She kisses me, first on the lips then on the neck. This is the Lin I know. She¡¯s amazing. And apparently also slightly crazy and manipulative, but I can deal with that now that I know.


    ¡°Now you think I¡¯m just mean and angry.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll think I just yell at you all the time.¡±


    ¡°I really won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for getting so angry,¡± she says between nibbles on my neck. ¡°It¡¯s really not about you. You¡¯re right. Yang Song used to say the meanest things to make me exercise. She told me that no one would want me if I didn¡¯t go running and look like a model. But I still miss her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That¡¯s not true, you know?¡± I reassure her. ¡°I¡¯ll love you no matter what you look like. I fell in love with you through our letters, it was never about your appearance. I mean, it doesn¡¯t hurt that you turned out gorgeous, but I don¡¯t just love you for your sexy body.¡±


    She nuzzles in. She¡¯s warm, and soft in all the right places. It¡¯s such a very nice feeling. This is what I usually remember feeling when I read back through all my interactions with her. Not the fights, just the happiness.


    ¡°We should just forget about this, don¡¯t you think?


    ¡°You know I forget everything.¡±


    ¡°But not really. You keep it in your implant forever. Now you¡¯ll always remember me being insecure and acting like a crazy woman.¡±


    ¡°A little crazy never hurts. Well, sometimes it does, but from you, I don¡¯t mind. And it¡¯s not like I¡¯m all that sane either.¡±


    She laughs and kisses me some more. ¡°Please? I just want everything perfect between us.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯ll make you happy. But just this once.¡±

 Tue 08/24 08:24:21 PDT

    ¡°How are the upgrades going?¡±


    ¡°Surprisingly well,¡± Louise says after she finishes chewing her toast. ¡°The new procedures Max came up with are a pretty dramatic improvement. We¡¯re all done with the calibration work, and I think the whole Geologist crew will be fully functional in a couple of weeks.¡±


    ¡°And Marc?¡±


    ¡°Struggling, like we knew he would. He¡¯s getting better though.¡±


    I finish my omelet and start on my yogurt.


    ¡°Does he still talk about becoming a superhero?¡± Evan asks. ¡°His old Scarlet Avenger or whatever he used to say he was going to be once he got upgraded?¡±


    ¡°Give him more credit,¡± Louse says. ¡°He¡¯s really grown up a lot.¡±


    ¡°I know. I just worry a little about him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine. Have either of you seen the training schedule he put together for all the younger kids with the contact interface?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve felt them out in the desert doing something, but I¡¯ve been pretty booked with the Jeff search.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impressive. Between the bot sports and the mock battles, I think they¡¯ll be ready to help out with whatever we need them for.¡±


    ¡°Nice.¡±


    ¡°Any progress on that search, Noah?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re down to three cities that still seem like possibilities. Alan has a small army of private detectives combing through them.¡±


    ¡°We could always just slip away and visit them,¡± she says.


    ¡°If we do, we risk getting shut down by the Feds,¡± Evan answers. ¡°Between the robbery here and the breach of the swarm brain facility, we¡¯re going to be on thin ice for a while. Better to play by the rules, let them find him for us, then come in and save the day when they call us in.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Honestly, if the CTTF bosses didn¡¯t all love Father and Chad so much, we¡¯d probably be shut down already.¡±


    Louise nods, chews, and swallows. ¡°Well, the kids could still use some training, so I guess we just focus on that now. Or whatever.¡±


    ¡°Feeling lost without a super secret project to fill your days?¡± I laugh.


    ¡°Who says I don¡¯t have another one in the works? Maybe it¡¯s so secret that you just don¡¯t know about it.¡±


    From Lin: Get over to the office. You need to see this.


    I put my knife and fork on my plate and get up from the table. ¡°My boss is calling me. You know where to find me.¡±


    ¡°Later, brother.¡±


    I drop off the plate on the way out and make my way to the office. Lin stands at her desk, her eyes fixed on the screen. ¡°That¡¯s her, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s who?¡± I run the image of the blonde woman through my facial recognition routine until I get a hit. ¡°Oh. Yes. Jeff¡¯s escort or bodyguard or whatever she was from the brain-in-the-box heist. That¡¯s her. How did you find her?¡±


    ¡°My dating app database. I¡¯ve been scraping profiles off of every app every day and she came in on today¡¯s update. I guess even agents of the illuminati need to get naughty sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Thank goodness for the pull of the human mating instinct.¡±


    ¡°So where is she? One of our top cities?¡±


    ¡°New Orleans!¡±


    ¡°Then proper credit to your algorithm. You picked it!¡±


    ¡°And the missing persons reports from this morning confirm what we¡¯ve suspected. Ten more went missing today from within the target demographics. Way above normal.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant!¡±


    ¡°So we depart forthwith then, right?¡±


    ¡°I swear I just had this conversation with Louise and Even down in the cafeteria. We can¡¯t go. Not until the Feds call us in.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°The world is in danger and your biggest concern is following your government¡¯s silly rules?¡±


    ¡°We need to take the long view. Jeff is a danger, yes, but once we deal with him we still need to stop climate change, poverty, hunger, scarcity, and all the rest of the world¡¯s problems. If we go now, even if we succeed we¡¯ll get locked down hard by the government and the CPP¡¯s agenda will have been accomplished anyway. We¡¯d be pushed back years if not decades. We don¡¯t have any reason to think that waiting until the CTTF calls us in will be any worse than going in alone. It might even be better. We¡¯d have their support and massive resources backing us.¡±


    ¡°Oh, fine. But you have to at least show them what we found.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll get word to Maria and the General right now. How long could they possibly take to act given this intel?¡±

 Wed 09/01 10:41:33 PDT

    ¡°How do we still not have permission to go to New Orleans? They have to know what we¡¯re up against! They¡¯d be crazy to try to deal with him without us!¡±


    ¡°I know, Marc. I agree. But unless it¡¯s a total emergency, we can¡¯t go anywhere but here and the automine sites. The CTTF in their infinite wisdom have decided they¡¯ve got everything under control.¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯re stupid!¡±


    I sigh. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do about it but train and be ready. So just keep getting those kids prepared. And keep practicing with your cloud. We¡¯ll need you as much as anyone else here when they finally do call us in.¡±


    That seems to mollify him.


    ¡°Did you need anything else?¡±


    ¡°No. That was all. I¡¯m just worried.¡±


    ¡°We all are, but it¡¯s all going to be OK.¡±


    I hope that¡¯s true. I put a hand on his shoulder like Father used to do and walk him to the door of the office.


    ¡°Noah?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Marc?¡±


    ¡°I really like your grandparents. Having them around, it¡¯s almost like having Father back. I mean, it¡¯s different, but it¡¯s like they¡¯re wise and they love us. Like he was. Like he did. Thanks for bringing them here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± I didn¡¯t exactly bring them here for him, or for any of my siblings, but it¡¯s nice to know they¡¯re making things better for everyone. I¡¯ll have to tell them what Marc said later. It¡¯s the kind of thing they¡¯d be glad to hear.


    As Marc makes his way to the entrance, I feel Evan and Valerie coming my direction, which I didn¡¯t expect. According to my schedule in the overlay, Evan is supposed to be working with Louise on containment strategies in case Jeff goes full annihilation mode and just lets the swarm loose. Maybe he wants to bounce ideas. But why would he be coming with Valerie? She was supposed to be in the medical wing this morning.


    Valerie reaches my door first and pokes her head in, looking around.


    ¡°Hey, Noah,¡± she says hesitantly. ¡°Have you got a few minutes to talk?¡±


    ¡°I can make some time, ¡° I tell her, walking back toward my desk. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    She enters, pulling a clearly reluctant Evan by the hand.


    ¡°Hey brother,¡± he says, sitting down at the small, round table and pulling out the chair next to him. ¡°Come over and sit down.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I take the seat. ¡°What¡¯s up? And why are you two acting weird? Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, there is,¡± he says, sounding tired. ¡°I¡¯m worried about you, man.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about all of us. More than any time before, we¡¯re fighting to literally save the world.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that. That¡¯s important, sure. But that¡¯s not what we¡¯re here about.¡±


    ¡°Noah,¡± Valerie says. Her voice seems off. She doesn¡¯t normally use this kind of overly sweet tone, does she? ¡°First of all, we want you to know that we love you. What we¡¯re going to say comes from that love. We really want you to be happy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making me nervous. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°This is an intervention. Sort of,¡± Evan says, looking down.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t those supposed to be big rooms full of people stopping you from using drugs or something?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, normally.¡±


    ¡°I hardly ever use the dopamine hits anymore. And I¡¯ve been careful not to push myself on the bots lately, even when we¡¯re doing training exercises. I¡¯m being good.¡±


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°No, not that either.¡± Valerie¡¯s hands press against the smooth, white tabletop. ¡°It¡¯s Lin.¡±


    ¡°Lin is doing great,¡± I reply quickly. ¡°Why are you saying there¡¯s something wrong with Lin?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more you and Lin.¡±


    ¡°Just spit it out.¡±


    ¡°Noah,¡± Evan says, ¡°you¡¯re getting weird holes in your memory. I think Lin is putting them there.¡±


    ¡°I always have holes in my memory. That¡¯s my whole memory, a giant hole. I read, I keep it a few hours, maybe a day if I¡¯m doing really well, then I lose it down the hole.¡±


    ¡°We know. But you¡¯ve always seemed to compensate for that pretty well.¡± Evan looks up at my face. ¡°I know. I helped you design those systems. But what we¡¯re seeing lately are a lot of breakdowns in the system. Things you should be remembering, putting in your daily reading, but you don¡¯t seem to know anything about. Which makes me think that you¡¯re still letting Lin edit your memories.¡±


    That doesn¡¯t sound right. Lin said she¡¯d stop doing that. I¡¯ve got that in my daily read and it¡¯s still early enough in the day that I remember it clearly.


    ¡°Like what?¡± I demand.


    ¡°How often do you think you and Lin fight?¡±


    I check my index and logs.


    ¡°Hardly ever. Maybe once or twice in our whole relationship.¡±


    Evan sighs and Valerie shakes her head.


    ¡°You two fight a lot,¡± Valerie says sadly. ¡°Especially since Yang Song died. It¡¯s gotten really bad.¡±


    I check her vitals. She doesn''t think she''s lying, though she obviously is.


    ¡°Name one time!¡±


    Evan sighs again. ¡°Look in the folder in the root of your memory files. There¡¯s a hidden subfolder there named emergency_backup. All lowercase with an underscore between the words. It won¡¯t show up in the file browser, you¡¯ll have to open it by name.¡±


    I look at him suspiciously, but do as he says. Sure enough, there¡¯s a hidden folder in my memory right where he said it would be.


    ¡°What¡¯s in here?¡±


    ¡°All the things you¡¯ve forgotten. All the things she¡¯s made you forget.¡±


    I put up a finger and dive into the files. Dozens of them. Fights over food, exercise, and funds for her data center back before we hit our gold deposit. Petty, stupid arguments over things she didn¡¯t like as she read through my memories. Most of all, trouble with and from Yang Song, some when she was alive, much more after she died.


    After each one, the make-up. The soft touches, the sweet words. Sometimes tears, sometimes kissing, sometimes sex. Every one ending in that oh-so-reasonable request to wipe the fight from my mind just this once.


    And finally, at the earliest deleted entry, Evan helping me set up this backup.


    ¡°Well, shit.¡±


    I¡¯ve been missing out on so much of my life. Not just the fights and the making up, but all the events that led up to them or happened near the same time. Sitting on a couch with Lin and watching movies. Conversations with her or my siblings or grandparents. Little Chad¡¯s birth.


    I didn¡¯t have bugs in my system. I had Lin wiping events from my mind. They would have been gone forever to me if Evan hadn¡¯t had the foresight to set this up.


    ¡°Sorry, brother. I didn¡¯t want to have to break it to you. I was hoping you two would just work things out. You really seemed to have hit a good stride before you two went to the Wallace Hospital. Before Yang Song, you know¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°And as funny as it was for me to hear how you had sex for the first time three different times, I figured you should know. Also, I wanted to check on one more thing. I have to know. You did a sort of a magical one-eighty about getting engaged. You told me that you thought we were all too young for this one day, then like the next day you put a ring on it. Did she, maybe, write that in for you?¡±


    I search back through the changes she made to my logs. ¡°No. That one was legitimate. Original text on everything about that decision.¡±


    Evan sighs in relief and Valerie puts her hand on his arm.


    ¡°That¡¯s a relief,¡± she says. ¡°We were a little worried. But we want you to know that we understand. You love her. We know that. And I can understand where she was coming from by doing this. But fighting and making up is important for relationships. And I think you both need to do that, not just have one person carry all of it and the other not remember at all. It¡¯s OK to have fights. It¡¯s OK to disagree. It¡¯s just not good to never learn from them. Fight, make up, learn. That¡¯s how relationships grow.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like you two ever fight.¡±


    ¡°Of course we do,¡± she says. ¡°We¡¯re just not loud about it. We can have a fight in front of you if you want.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s just weird. Thanks though.¡±


    As they walk down the hall I hear Valerie quietly tell Evan how well I took the news.


    I guess I did.


    Why am I not furious with Lin? It seems like I should be, but I¡¯m just not. There should be anger boiling up inside me, but instead there¡¯s just an empty spot where it should be, like when I bump up against the void where I know my guilt should be. I just feel like I always feel about Lin. Crazily, hopelessly in love.


    I¡¯m so broken. I can¡¯t let anyone read my brain again ever.


    I reach thousands of tiny fingers to the port in my satchel where Lin¡¯s been jacking in to alter my brain and fuse the surface closed. I¡¯ll undo it next time when I need to make an update, but until then no one plugs in.

 Mon 09/16 16:51:02 PDT

    ¡°Walter, beneath you!¡± Michelle shouts just in time to keep him from falling into the deathpit forming under him.


    Walter launches up twenty meters in a bot-assisted jump and lands safely outside of the area as the desert soil where he had been standing collapses into a roiling mass of grinding bot clusters.


    Training on the new anti-bot tools is a little tricky. We don¡¯t want to really let a wild swarm go, or actually implement any of Jeff¡¯s destructive algorithms as part of our software baseline. So one of us needs to dedicate themselves and their cloud to emulating our best guess for how they would act when Jeff gets them going. And by one of us, I mean me. It¡¯s much easier for me to do it than it is for any of the others, and I feel like the training on using the automated systems is less critical for me given how naturally my brain interfaces with my cloud anyway.


    The pit of grinding doom would have sensed him as he came down into it and changed from destructive consumers to a gentle catch, but Walter and Michelle don¡¯t know that yet. Neither do Lin, Valerie, or any of the others that haven¡¯t been taken down yet in this exercise. As far as they''re aware, I¡¯m testing them with live ammunition.


    ¡°Thanks, bro,¡± Walter says, dodging back from a death cyclone. ¡°I mean sis. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s OK, we¡¯re all working on the transition,¡± Michelle says patiently, as a wave of her hand tangles the cyclone¡¯s nanowires in a crashing reverse avalanche of congealed rock and sand rising up from the ground.


    I feel the other pairs, the ones out of my physical eyesight. Lin and Valerie have taken to the contact interface as naturally as any of the Butler children. Between them, they¡¯ve made short work of everything I¡¯ve thrown at them, and I¡¯m not going easy on them just because I like them. Lisa got Phil to adopt headphones like hers and I swear she¡¯s syncing their responses to my threats using whatever music she has them listening to. Not something I would have thought of, but very effective.


    Stan and Steph are struggling, mostly because they don¡¯t want to cooperate. Individually, they are each the two best in their class, but they aren¡¯t even trying to work as a team. And there¡¯s a kill, my first one on either of them. Stan failed to watch Steph¡¯s back and now she¡¯s encased in a soft but immobilizing cocoon that represents the bots that would have consumed her. With her down, I make short work of Stan. Once they¡¯re both trussed and they¡¯ve had a minute to feel embarrassed about it I form a mic and a speaker near them to accompany my omnipresent eyes.


    ¡°You two need to either find different partners that you can work with, or learn to work together,¡± I tell them. ¡°I don¡¯t care which, but I want it fixed by tomorrow.¡±


    They both nod soberly. I release them and give them a few minutes to talk strategy before I start in again on the non-stop onslaught. Part of this training is about teamwork and skills, but another part that¡¯s just as important is endurance. If Jeff gets any of the monstrosities that he envisioned automated, or if he releases a wild swarm, we¡¯ll be dealing with challenges that may span hours or days. It¡¯s one thing to be able to stay on your toes for a few minutes, it¡¯s another entirely to do it over a long haul. The others have been practicing in shifts, taking breaks as they become exhausted. I¡¯ve been at it since before dawn.


    I take a sip from my water bottle and tear the wrapper off of another granola bar as I contemplate the sun hanging low in the afternoon sky. It dipped below the line of my shade canopy a little while ago, but it¡¯s not bothering me enough to adjust it yet.


    In some ways, this whole experience resonates with the feeling I get when I read my logs from the training I did with the implant way back when I was getting ready to kill Father. Compared to what I can do now, the capabilities I was working on then seem so basic and simple, though mastering them pushed me hard at the time. Today¡¯s mental and electronic exercises have been engaging, but not strenuous. More like an invigorating jog for me than a grueling marathon. I could do so much more if I disregarded Louise¡¯s demands and let myself go all out.


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    I can see that most of the others don¡¯t feel like I¡¯m going easy on them though. It¡¯s probably time to do another shift change and let them get some rest. I frost my bottle with my cloud and take another cool sip.


    To All: Take a break. Head back to the campus to rest if you need to, otherwise the next round starts in ten minutes.


    I feel and see sighs of relief from all the pairs. I almost had Marc and Becky again with a pair of death from above attacks, plummeting combinations of bots and inert mass from way above detection range coming in at terminal velocity. Mine have to be more bot-heavy than we would expect Jeff¡¯s to be, since I need to be able to make them non-lethal at the last instant if I¡¯m about to get a hit. I form a speaker and congratulate Becky on her quick reactions that saved them both.


    Lin and Valerie zoom towards me, each perched on a hovering disk with a set of handlebars protruding upwards. The dev team had been hesitant to do proper flight suits for the contact interface since without the feedback the implant provides it would be hard to steer it at high speed without crashing, but they¡¯d wanted something for mobility. These floating scooters are the compromise, slow enough that a fall from it won¡¯t kill you, fast enough that they¡¯re still a big upgrade from walking. And they¡¯re kind of fun to ride. Both girls look like they¡¯re doing well, but they had just swapped in at the last break.


    ¡°That was great,¡± Lin says.


    ¡°I feel so powerful,¡± Valerie agrees.


    ¡°Good,¡± I reply. ¡°Need some water?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here,¡± Lin says, popping open my cooler and grabbing two bottles.


    ¡°Not for my sparkling personality?¡±


    ¡°No, just the sparkling water,¡± Lin says with a smirk. She opens the glass bottle only to be disappointed by the lack of fizz.


    ¡°Need a hand with that?¡±


    ¡°Would you?¡±


    ¡°Only if you admit that you¡¯re actually here to see me.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she sighs. ¡°You are so handsome, I can¡¯t go without seeing you for more than a hour or I will waste away and die. Happy?¡±


    She¡¯s gotten funnier since I stopped letting her erase our fights. Snarkier, but in a good way. And it hasn¡¯t even been bad. Valerie was right, arguing and remembering it has been good for us. I pressurize her bottle and inject some carbon dioxide bubbles, chilling it as I do it so that the water will be extra refreshing.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she says, hearing the satisfying hiss of the seal breaking again as I finish.


    ¡°Any time. Valerie, you want bubbles?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± she says, taking a deep pull on her bottle.


    ¡°Are you both in for the next round?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I can do one more before dinner,¡± Valerie says, and Lin nods in agreement.


    ¡°Sounds good. Three minutes till start time. I¡¯ll need you to move away from me by then. You don¡¯t have to go far, just give me enough space that I don¡¯t have to worry about hitting myself with shrapnel from anything I throw at you. Louise insists that I don¡¯t push myself too hard, so I¡¯m not deploying any defenses for myself while I run everyone¡¯s trainings.¡±


    ¡°OK. Thanks for the drinks.¡± Lin blows me a kiss as their disks materialize and they jet off.


    ¡°Any time,¡± I call after her.


    I feel out the remaining siblings dotting the deserted landscape of the desert. No one called it quits. Good. I adjust my sun shade to block the late afternoon sun from shining on my face as I mentally plan out a sequence of calamities to inflict on each pair next. I consider for each set how I can best help them see weaknesses they can work on or strengths they can build up and start scripting out functions and doing the calculations to target each of them.


    And it¡¯s time.


    I sound an alert and close my eyes as I let another cavalcade of dangers fly.

 Sun 09/29 10:41:16 PDT

    Dammit. Where is he?


    I swear we¡¯ve mapped out every possible place in New Orleans where he could be secretly holding even half as many people as he¡¯s kidnapped. Zilch. None of the private investigators have turned up anything, and I¡¯m pretty sure that we have every single one in the city on our payroll by now along with hundreds of others that we¡¯ve imported from the region.


    According to Lin¡¯s research, he and his CPP accomplice have bounced between every major dating app as they¡¯ve acquired their test subjects. He never used his own picture, but Lin¡¯s algorithm identified a dozen profiles that she¡¯s sure belonged to them. I flick through the batch of missing persons reports, at least three dozen of which were on the apps until they matched with one of them and disappeared. Lin has her own set of fake accounts on all of the sites now, trolling and hoping we catch Jeff¡¯s interest, but by the time she got those set up, Jeff stopped adding new test subjects. He must have enough for his current round of tests.


    But where does he put them? It¡¯s got to be somewhere inside the city, but nothing has gotten us even the smallest of clues. We¡¯re watching all the cams on all the streets in and out way too closely for him to be getting anyone out. Short of breaking our quarantine and heading in to actually check the city with our bots, I don¡¯t know what else we can do. And even if we did decide to go head to head with the Feds, it would be stupid to do it since Jeff has figured out effective ways to detect one of our clouds in action like he did at the Wallace Hospital. That would make it too easy for him to slip away or set off whatever traps he¡¯s set up for us. Might as well let the CTTF do whatever they¡¯ve got planned rather than do that.


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    I¡¯m still wondering how he even gets around the city without us seeing him on any of the cams we have. We¡¯ve got that place wired like a surveillance state, but we still get nothing. Every day Lin and I check and double check our thousands of feeds that we¡¯ve purchased or hacked. I spot check video streaming on dozens of screens at a time, verifying the algorithms that Lin wrote to monitor the rest of them. Every day, nothing.


    At least today the dev team got us our update with the acoustical signaling mods. Finally a fix for the jammer problem that will let us run bots without RF transmissions. It felt like that project took them forever, but I guess they had a lot on their plates with all the defenses from the laundry list of world-ending threats we dumped on them.


    I should be patient with them, they¡¯re working on it as hard and fast as they can. But it¡¯s hard, feeling helpless like this. Knowing that Jeff is doing whatever crazy mad science project he thinks he needs to do to make his human hive a reality. I should have stopped him when I could have, back in St. Louis. I could have done it. Maybe.


    ¡°Hey, love.¡±


    Lin¡¯s voice pulls me back to reality. I get lost in my own head sometimes. It¡¯s happening more lately as my memory continues to deteriorate. Even following all of Louise¡¯s guidelines my functional human memory is down to just a few hours before I have to reread everything. I open my physical eyes and see the love of my life there, coming towards my desk.


    ¡°Sorry. Just thinking.¡±


    ¡°About me, I hope. Though I suppose I¡¯ll never know. Come on. We told your grandparents this morning that we¡¯d meet them for lunch.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. I guess we did.¡± I don¡¯t remember it, but it¡¯s on my schedule. ¡°Let¡¯s go then.¡±


    She takes my arm as we walk out. I swear she¡¯s gotten more affectionate since she stopped being able to read my thoughts whenever she wants to.

 Wed 10/09 16:11:27 PDT

    I¡¯m glad that we finally found a good use for the replica campus I built a whole lifetime ago. Andrea is holed up inside, and she¡¯s not letting anything get to the inside of the copy of the dorm building. I didn¡¯t believe her when she declared in clear images that she was going to hold down the fort solo against all of the rest of us, but she¡¯s pulling it off. Granted, it¡¯s not all of us together at once, but she¡¯s been doing an impressive job of it so far. Even with the combined assault of all the Geologists trying to undermine the foundations of the place, Andrea remains calm as she stands firm in the center of the sandy soil that forms the commons of the fake campus.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to collapse,¡± Evan says confidently, gesturing to the dorm building.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I say. ¡°Look what she¡¯s doing around the edges of the windows there. She¡¯s got that same thing growing all through the interior supports.¡±


    The areas I¡¯m pointing out have a crystalline crust growing on them. I¡¯m not sure what exactly it is, since Andrea is blanketing the area in some weird electromagnetic field that prevents a lot of the bots¡¯ sensors from working right, but I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s a response to what the Geologists are doing.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to help,¡± Evan says. ¡°The rock under the foundations is almost completely sand at this point. And there it goes!¡±


    Jets of sand start streaming from seven points under the dorms, kicking out minerals like fire hoses. No, like geysers. At this rate there¡¯s going to be nothing left under there soon. I peek underneath to see what¡¯s still holding it up. More of that crystal, which seems to be resisting the efforts of seven determined cloud wielders.


    ¡°There what goes?¡± Valerie says from her chair. The elevated platform I put up so that we could get a good view of the event was more useful when the Doctors and Roadbuilders did their combined attempt. This round¡¯s probably been pretty boring for her and Lin with so much of the action happening underground. They¡¯ve been good sports about it though.


    ¡°Nevermind,¡± Evan says, ¡°I thought it was going to collapse.¡±


    ¡°It will soon, but not how you think,¡± I say, feeling the impromptu crystal supports all starting to crack simultaneously. ¡°Watch this.¡±


    Some kind of signal that I can¡¯t read with my disrupted sensors seems to coordinate the dissolution of the supports, and the building falls. Gracefully. Without any apparent damage. It¡¯s like a giant hand had slowly lowered the whole building two meters into the ground. I check the dummy children inside and they¡¯re all undamaged, which is impressive given how fragile I made them. Lin and Valerie clap. This is the first visible indication this round of what was actually going on.


    From Phil: We give up. That was our best play and her counter was awesome.


    To Phil: Good effort. Feel free to come join us up here if you want.


    Geologists start flying up one by one, taking seats on the platform. They seem to be in good spirits for just getting beaten.


    To Andrea: Are you ready for round three, or do you need a break?


    A musical roar like a hundred trumpets issues from the mock campus. A clear challenge.


    ¡°Alright, Evan. Our turn. Don¡¯t go easy on her.¡±


    I start in with a wave of brute force, just throwing my massive cloud right at the dorms in a direct assault. Evan brings his cloud around and starts attacking Andrea directly from the other side. I can¡¯t really tell what¡¯s going on with that part of the fight because of Andrea¡¯s weird disruption field, but my front is going well for our team. The side of the building facing us is slowly melting away. The crystalline reinforcements she¡¯s building are much tougher than the sand-based concrete that makes up the rest of the exterior wall, so I mostly ignore those. Rooms are getting exposed, where the child dummies should be, but aren¡¯t.


    Where did they go? There¡¯s no way she had time to move them. With as delicate as I made them, she¡¯d need to gently cradle each one to move it without breaking it. But they¡¯re gone from the rooms I¡¯ve opened up.


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    Wait.


    Clever sister. I¡¯m only seeing what she wants me to see.


    I detect the slight refraction of the sun¡¯s light on the edge of the screens embedded just behind the walls of each exposed room in the building. If she didn¡¯t have her disruption field up, I would have sensed those as soon as she put them up, but she did, so I didn¡¯t. I pull back a portion of my cloud and try to consume her bots that form the screens. They¡¯re slippery though, scattering like a school of fish, forcing my infinite tiny hands into a fruitless pursuit. When did she figure out those kinds of evasive maneuvers? That¡¯s not baked into the software baseline, though it probably should be. I make a note to get something like that automated for everyone.


    Evan grunts with effort and I see his face scrunched in concentration. I can¡¯t count on his attack on her for much longer. I go in for a quick win. With the screens gone, I can see into the building to the exposed dummy children, right where they should be. I start into the building and get three of them quickly before a wave of Andrea comes crashing around the mock dorm building from the copy of the commons.


    ¡°Sorry man, I held her as long as I could,¡± Evan apologizes.


    I¡¯m amazed at the size of the cloud Andrea has marshaled. I¡¯ve never seen anyone do anything at that scale but me. She must have been quietly growing them all through the first two rounds of the mock assault, undetected behind her disruption field.


    ¡°Are you out?¡± I say, not feeling any bots matching his signature.


    ¡°Sorry, she¡¯s just too good.¡±


    ¡°Take these and grow back up,¡± I tell him, detaching a contingent for him to sync with. ¡°Then do anything you can to distract her.¡±


    ¡°On it,¡± he says, his face reverting to a mask of concentration. I feel the air start to cool and sky above us darken as his bots suck heat and light for the power needed to reproduce.


    A million pinpricks stab into my non-skin as Andrea¡¯s cloud starts consuming mine. I ignore the building for now and focus on the aerial melee between my cloud and hers. I employ every technique I can think of, but her control is masterful and I¡¯m at a stalemate. One cluster chases another in a chaos of brownian motion. My full attention is devoted to the brawl in front of me and I don¡¯t even notice the platform under me starting to collapse until it¡¯s almost too late.


    ¡°Evan, beneath us!¡±


    His newly grown cloud is just big enough to catch us all before anyone gets hurt. My feet hit sandy soil as I entrust my physical safety to my brother. I feel every bot like a finger, and in every way I become my cloud, ignoring my human flesh entirely. I dive and fly in a million directions, catching, breaking, eating, breeding. My electronic self grows and destroys, adapting to her evasive tactics and mastering the battle. Her cloud wanes as mine waxes.


    ¡°Noah!¡± Evan roars, pulling me out of my reverie.


    ¡°What?¡± I say, splitting my focus and seeing what he sees just before it hits me.


    Andrea is adapting too, employing the Geologists techniques with a tunnel that opens under my feet. I drop at least a meter before Evan catches me. Lin screams, terrified.


    ¡°I¡¯m OK,¡± I assure her as Evan lifts my body from the hole. I spare a few bots to plumb the depths and it goes down half a dozen meters. I would have broken my legs or worse if I¡¯d taken the full brunt of that fall. Andrea is playing hardball. ¡°Nevermind about offense, Evan. Just keep me alive.¡±


    Pinpricks pull my attention back to the swarming chaos between me and the building. I command the upper hand again as I focus on reducing her cloud. Finally, I can spare enough attention to reach into the building again. I break a couple more dummies before Andrea seals off the side of the building, fusing what¡¯s left of her cloud into a solid wall protecting the openings that I had I cut into the building¡¯s exterior. She¡¯s doing some kind of intensified version of her disruptor that numbs me entirely to everything on the other side of the wall.


    I start chewing through her blockade from the outside. My bots feast on hers now that they¡¯re not running anymore. I¡¯m back in to get the last dummy that I need in order to declare victory when I feel a rain of sand and tiny pebbles clatter down on my head, the aftermath of a blocked death from above attack.


    ¡°Ow.¡± I wince. ¡°Could you try to keep the debris off of me when you stop those, Evan?¡±


    I realize the sky has gone dark, and not just because of the light collector that Evan had been running. The sun is gone from the sky. How long was I in the zone there?


    Over two hours. It felt like minutes.


    ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Evan says sheepishly. ¡°I didn¡¯t stop that one, Andrea did.¡±


    ¡°So she killed me?¡± I ask. ¡°Did she win?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Louise says. ¡°Kind of a pyrrhic victory, since you got all but one of the targets, but yeah. You two are dead. And Marc and I decided to forfeit our turn. If she can beat you two, we don¡¯t stand a chance. Andrea deserves the win.¡±


    Lightshow fireworks spring up from the center of the fake campus as Andrea pulls back what remains of her cloud from the wall of the mock dorm building and declares victory. Part of me wants a rematch, I think with a better strategy we could have won, but my better self is just proud of my sister. I¡¯m feeling very comfortable leaving the campus in her sole care whenever we finally get permission to go to New Orleans.

 Mon 10/14 19:34:08 PDT

    ¡°So those government folks still won¡¯t let you get out there and take care of business, eh?¡± Gramps asks as he steps back to take his seat. The pins clatter at the other end of the lane, another strike.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I tell him, ¡°but I¡¯m starting to think that we can¡¯t wait any more. I don¡¯t know what the government task force is even doing. For all I know they¡¯ve just given up and are feeding me fake reports to keep me busy and out of their hair. And we¡¯re not waiting for anything on our side anymore either, the dev team is done with all the upgrades we needed and the younger sibs with interfaces all know what they¡¯re doing now.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure they¡¯re all ready, Noah?¡± Grammy gets up to take her turn. ¡°Some of those kids seem so small to be off to fight.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re only a year younger than I was when I went to ¡®Nam, Helen,¡± Gramps reminds her.


    Her ball thunders down the center and leaves a 7-10 split, but she picks up both of them on her second throw.


    ¡°I know that, Frank,¡± she says, returning to her seat, ¡°but you lied about your age and nearly got yourself killed.¡±


    ¡°Still better than staying in my father¡¯s house,¡± he says gruffly. A pained look flashes across his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re up, Noah.¡±


    I wonder if he¡¯s ever told me about his childhood. If he has, I have no memory of it. Doesn¡¯t sound great though. I grab the heavy, polished swirl of black and red by its three holes and step up to the lane. My body remembers the motions even if my conscious mind couldn¡¯t describe them if my life depended on it. The ball thunders down to the pins for a strike.


    ¡°You¡¯re not cheating there, are you honey?¡± Grammy asks in her nicest voice. ¡°With your little robots?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not,¡± Lin assures her. ¡°I thought he might be after the last two, so I checked.¡±


    ¡°I can have a good game now and then,¡± I say defensively. This might be the first time I¡¯ve ever had three strikes in a row. Not that I¡¯d remember if I ever had. It¡¯s definitely the first time since bowling came to the campus.


    Lin looks so cute getting up to bowl. I carefully don¡¯t laugh as she spreads her legs, bends over, lowers her ball in both hands, and drops it too early so that it thuds between her feet rather than going down the lane.


    ¡°Your girl ever going to learn to bowl?¡± Gramps whispers.


    ¡°Probably not,¡± I whisper back.


    Lin picks up her hot pink six pounder from the ball return and tries again. I suppress a chuckle as she grannies it into the gutter again.


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    Gramps nails another strike and dusts his knuckles off on his shirt as he returns to his seat. If he hadn¡¯t had that spare in the second frame, he¡¯d be heading for a perfect game. He¡¯ll top the weekly tournament as usual, but he stopped counting himself and Grammy in the competition after the first week.


    ¡°Wow, Noah. You¡¯re doing awesome.¡± Marc leans over from the lane to our left.


    ¡°Thanks, Marc. How¡¯s the new implant treating you? You¡¯re all done with the calibrations now, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s so good. Louise did such a good job setting it up for me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. No headaches or anything?¡±


    ¡°Nope. It¡¯s been great. Check this out.¡± A stream of multicolored balls materialize in the air and start doing rotations around his outstretched hand. They work their way along his arm to his shoulder in an extended helix and float up to spin around his head. I half expect the balls to collide with his face, I still have the account of something like that during one of our first meetings as part of my daily read. Instead they gracefully form into a halo above him then wink out of existence with a pop.


    ¡°Very nice.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got training again in the morning right? Testing out that last batch of upgrades that the devs did for us?¡±


    ¡°Right. Remind Louise too. She hasn¡¯t tried the latest updates yet either. You two can partner up.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Louise!¡± he calls out across the alley. ¡°You and me tomorrow!¡±


    ¡°OK,¡± she yells, then goes back to her turn. I don¡¯t think she realizes what she just agreed to, but that¡¯s all right. She¡¯ll find out tomorrow.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting a soda,¡± Grammy says. ¡°Anyone else want one?¡±


    Lin and I both raise our hands. I take my turn and break my streak with a seven-ten split. Oh, well. I get back to my seat just in time to take the ice-cold drink from Grammy. Lin puts two more balls in the gutter. At least she looks hot while she¡¯s doing it. I wonder if she¡¯ll score at all in this game. Not that it matters. It''s just a game.


    I hear Evan swear from the lane to our right. He¡¯s shaking a shiny green ball from his hand, but I think that his fingers are stuck. I thought he had a custom ball so this wouldn¡¯t happen. And yes, he does. There it is, the same exact color as the one in his hands, still sitting in the ball return. He must have jammed his fingers into Valerie¡¯s matching ball. I laugh, even though I know I shouldn¡¯t.


    Mom, help me be a better brother.


    I get my bots up against his fingers and chew away enough plastic to help him get loose. His fingers pop out and I fuse the tiny plastic chunks back in place.


    To Evan: You OK man?


    From Evan: All except my pride.


    To Evan: Maybe don¡¯t do twin balls with Valerie? Or put some kind of a mark on yours?


    He nods from across the lanes and I see the lime green of his ball take on some swirling dark stripes as his bots do some quick adjustments. He picks up the right ball this time and manages to knock down six pins.


    I flub my next frame and only get nine points, but I glance over and see that I¡¯m still close to Andrea¡¯s score. And we¡¯re both way ahead of all the other siblings. If she screws up and I get my mojo back for the last couple of frames I might still win.


    And then she throws a strike. Oh well.

 Wed 10/16 11:18:33 PDT

    From Marc: You need to turn on the television. Any channel. Now.


    I rummage through the desk drawer for the remote control to the one screen in the room that connects to standard channels. I click it on. The sound is up too high and it startles Lin even with her headphones on. She pulls them off and looks over from her standing desk, first at the screen, then at me. I crank the volume down to a normal level.


    ¡°Is something going on?¡±


    ¡°Not sure,¡± I answer, but then I see the chyron crawling across the top of the screen above the news anchor. ¡°Shit!¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡± Lin echoes, her eyes also locked on the screen.


    ¡°Pentagon officials have so far declined to comment on the events this morning,¡± the anchorwoman explains from behind the news desk. ¡°But eyewitnesses at the scene claimed to have seen at least two armed men at the site of the attack. Other witnesses said that the attack was caused by an airstrike from an unidentified drone or aircraft. Again, we do not have any confirmed reports about exactly what the attack is or who is responsible.¡±


    I¡¯m much less interested in what she¡¯s saying and much more interested in what I see in the video playing over her shoulder. Shaky video footage of a run-down street in what looks like a rough neighborhood leading to a giant, boiling, gray puddle. I drop the remote on the floor with a clatter. There¡¯s only one thing on earth that causes that roiling, gray chaos.


    ¡°We¡¯re joined now by our own Martin Waltz on the scene now,¡± the anchor continues as I pull out my phone and dial General Whitman. ¡°Martin, what can you tell us about what you¡¯re seeing?¡±


    The phone rings. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.


    The scene cuts to the reporter just a few meters away from the gray goo. Idiot! Get out of there!


    ¡°Thanks, Erin,¡± the reporter begins. ¡°We¡¯re still not sure what we¡¯re seeing, but the experts that we¡¯ve talked to have speculated that this is some kind of chemical weapon attack. No organizations or governments have claimed responsibility, but three apartment buildings so far have collapsed and been dissolved by what appears to be a slowly growing pool of some kind of chemical agent.¡±


    His breath is frosting as he speaks. Good, that means the swarm has already exhausted all the easy ambient heat to fuel its growth. Maybe we can get there in time. It won¡¯t be long before someone recognizes this as looking a lot like the old footage from the Universal Robotics incident. The CPP is going to get exactly what they wanted.


    But was this their plan in action? Or a failsafe from Jeff like in St. Louis? Did the CTTF find him and try to take him out on their own? I don¡¯t have enough information to have any idea.


    General Whitman¡¯s phone is still ringing.


    To All: Drop everything and get to the jet. Now.


    I bolt out the door, heading to Alan¡¯s office with Lin close behind me. I feel all the older classes scrambling towards the campus gate. Good, the drills paid off.


    General Whitman¡¯s phone finally picks up, but it¡¯s his voice mail.


    ¡°Sir! I need to know what¡¯s going on in New Orleans, and I need to know now! Call me back!¡±


    I disconnect just as we hit Alan¡¯s door. He almost gets a greeting out, but I cut him off.


    ¡°Get the plane ready! We need to be in New Orleans right now! Literal life and death!¡±


    ¡°On it, sir!¡±


    ¡°And call Maria Hall. Tell her I need her boss on the phone, like right now. Oh, also, call Antonio Campos. Tell him I need the contingency that we talked about.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. But what¡¯s all this about?¡± I hear him say as we¡¯re already running down the hallway.


    ¡°Turn on the news!¡± I shout over my shoulder. I hope he heard that. Doesn¡¯t matter, as long as the plane is ready to fly and he makes those calls.


    We make it to the outside doors just in time to see Andrea encase herself in shimmering purple. Dragonfly wings sprout from her back and she darts into the air in the direction of the airfield. I realize I hadn¡¯t put an exception in my telepathy message for her to stay here and guard the campus. Probably better that way. We¡¯re going to need everyone with a cloud. We¡¯ll just get the younger kids out of here instead. I take one more quick stop at the bowling alley where I felt Grammy, Gramps, and Mrs. Hastings.


    ¡°Evacuate the campus,¡± I declare without preamble as I enter the big double doors. ¡°Get some buses, get everyone out of here as fast as you can. Tell the kids it¡¯s a vacation. Go to Disneyland or the beach or something. I don¡¯t care where, just as long as it¡¯s not here. And don¡¯t tell anyone where you¡¯re going to be. Use the emergency cash for all of it, nothing traceable back to the Institute. Take all the staff that live on campus too, and Max and baby Chad and his moms and anyone else I¡¯m forgetting. Don¡¯t leave anyone here.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going¡ª¡± Gramps starts.


    ¡°Major crisis in New Orleans. Alan can fill you in. For now, just get the kids and go.¡±


    Lin¡¯s already jetting down the road toward the airstrip on her disk. I suit up and catch up quickly. I encapsulate her in another suit and haul her along. I reach out and feel where everyone is. Good, almost everyone is ahead of us on their way to the plane. Fiona is the only straggler, still back on campus. I grab her too as she tries to pack a bag. I¡¯ve never flightsuited someone struggling against it before. It¡¯s a really weird feeling, like trying to hold a squirming bug.


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    To Fiona: Just relax. We¡¯ve got to hurry.


    She calms down and lets me carry her. The rest of my siblings are boarding the plane as we zip down the road at full speed a couple of meters off of the ground. We won¡¯t have enough seats on the plane. No, wait. I feel Evan, Louise, and Marc already working on it. Where are the flight crew and Cindy?


    Duh. Of course they¡¯re not there. It¡¯s only been a few minutes since Alan started making calls and they all live in Las Vegas. Hopefully, they¡¯re all on their way down and they¡¯re driving fast.


    ¡°Hey, everyone,¡± I say once we¡¯re in the plane. Fiona sails in through the boarding door and she lands on her feet as the flight suit evaporates. My phone rings.


    ¡°General Whitman,¡± I answer, ducking back towards the front of the plane.


    ¡°Noah,¡± he says.


    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± I explode. ¡°Why am I seeing nanobots running wild on the news, and why did I not hear about it from you first?!¡±


    ¡°First of all,¡± he says in a voice that is much too calm for the situation we¡¯re all in. ¡°You will not take that tone with me. Is that understood?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± I don¡¯t have time to argue. ¡°With respect, sir, what happened in New Orleans that led to the world-ending event that¡¯s going on there now?¡±


    He pauses for way too long of a moment.


    ¡°We found your brother and were tracking his actions,¡± he finally answers.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t call us in?¡±


    ¡°Given the intel that we had, we deemed the risk of continuing to wait was unacceptable. Our tactical team had four snipers that all had clean shots on the target. When that failed, our air support deployed a Griffin precision air-to-surface missile that leveled the building he was occupying.¡±


    I bite my tongue until it starts to bleed to keep myself from saying a whole slew of things that would end the conversation quickly. They found him and didn¡¯t tell us? I¡¯m so seething mad I just want to kill him.


    WARNING! LOG TEXT INDICATES MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    Shut up, stupid electronic mind.


    ¡°What happened then?¡± I finally spit out.


    ¡°And then the mission succeeded. My team on the ground confirmed that he did not escape. He never left the building. We got him.¡±


    And you didn¡¯t think that he might have left a dead man¡¯s switch!


    I don¡¯t say it.


    I warned you about this! Is everyone but us complete morons?


    I bite all of that back too.


    ¡°Congratulations on your successful operation,¡± I do say. ¡°You may have noticed that New Orleans is dissolving. That was why I respectfully asked you to bring us in if you found him.¡±


    ¡°Acknowledged. Don¡¯t worry about it, son. We have additional aircraft inbound now armed with enough firepower to blow these nanobugs back to the stone age. We¡¯ll sort this all out shortly.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I nearly shout, strangling myself to not curse him out. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. Even if you blanket the whole area in the most powerful ordnance the military owns, you won¡¯t be able to eliminate all of them. Even a single surviving nanobot can repopulate the entire swarm. And more importantly, the limiting factor on an explosive nanobot growth like this is the ambient energy. If you drop anything that makes heat on it, you¡¯ll just accelerate the growth.¡±


    He goes silent for a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to go back to the President to get authorization for a tactical nuclear strike then. We¡¯ll solve this situation the right way this time.¡±


    My index triggers at the mention of nuclear weapons and a conversation with my father pops into my view.


    ¡°General, that would be even worse. My father said that a nuclear weapon wouldn¡¯t have worked even on the original bots from Universal Robotics.¡± Connections click. My brain is working right for once, even if it needs all the related pieces put right in front of it to get there. ¡°You were there, back at the Universal Robotics site. You were the one that my father worked with, the one that would have had to make the call to get permission to drop the bombs back then?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he acknowledges. ¡°I was there. I was ready to make that call. I hesitated, and I¡¯ve regretted it since. We should have gotten rid of this risk once and for all back then.¡±


    ¡°My father told me that if you¡¯d dropped that nuke, the swarm would have survived and just fed off the radiation. If it wasn¡¯t going to work then, it certainly won¡¯t work now with almost three more decades of research and improvements on the nanobot hulls. In the very best case, you¡¯d wreck the top layers of what¡¯s going to be a lake of nanobots by the time you drop a nuke, but you¡¯d feed everything underneath. It¡¯ll dig down and out. We would never get it under control.¡±


    The line goes quiet.


    ¡°How much did they pay you?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°The Center for Progress and Peace. How much are they giving you?¡±


    ¡°Even if I did know what you were talking about, it wouldn¡¯t be about the money.¡±


    That¡¯s all the confession that I need to hear. A car just pulled up. Cindy and Bob pile out of it. They must have made record time getting here.


    ¡°One second,¡± I tell the General.


    They rush up the stairs.


    ¡°Get us in the air now, please,¡± I tell them as they get through the boarding door. ¡°Skip anything not absolutely essential. The world literally depends on us getting to New Orleans as fast as possible.¡±


    Cindy pulls the door closed as Bob takes his seat in the cockpit.


    ¡°I heard that. You¡¯d better not be planning to fly in there. If your jet so much as comes within radar range of the airspace down there, I¡¯ve got a pair of fighting falcons that will¡ª¡±


    ¡°General,¡± I interrupt. ¡°Whatever your reasons, I¡¯m going to bet that the CPP managed to drop some incentives in your direction. We¡¯ve got the best forensics accountants on earth on our payroll and I¡¯ve just given them orders to find out exactly what you got paid.¡± It¡¯s a lie, but he won¡¯t know that. With the historical extent of the Butler Institute¡¯s legal and financial team, it¡¯s not much of a stretch. ¡°I don¡¯t think bribery would look good on your record, especially a bribe that let the whole city of New Orleans get destroyed.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t answer, but I can hear his breathing on the other end of the line. I can only pray to Mom that this bluff works. I make a note to talk to Alan about how on earth we missed finding the CPP connection to the General earlier. I swear we dug into him as deep as we did anyone and didn¡¯t find anything. Maybe he¡¯s not lying and it wasn¡¯t about the money for him. If it was small amounts, or gifts in kind rather than cash, our checks on him might not have turned anything up. Or maybe he really thinks the world would be better without our tech.


    ¡°When you see our family¡¯s jet over the airspace there, you¡¯re not going to shoot us down. I¡¯m making arrangements now to make sure that if anything happens to us, the world will know that this whole thing is your fault. Or, you can be the hero that backed us up when we stopped it and saved the city and the world. We¡¯re happy to share the credit. We¡¯ll be there as soon as we can. Don¡¯t blow up anything.¡±


    The plane lurches forward as I disconnect the call. Good. Bob took me at my word. I head back to the main cabin and get buckled into one of the new, smaller seats that someone built. I¡¯m still texting Alan with contingency plans for Whitman when the wheels leave the ground, just in case our jet gets shot down.

 Wed 10/16 14:39:14 CDT

    ¡°Jeff, it¡¯s Noah. If you get this message, and you¡¯re still alive, we should talk. There are better ways to handle this situation.¡±


    It¡¯s a longshot, I know. Four snipers and a missile should be able to overcome a Butler cloud¡¯s defenses easily. They¡¯re not made for use against military hardware. But just on the off chance, if Jeff is alive maybe he can stop the ever-growing pool of devastation ahead of us. Maybe he¡¯d take my head in exchange. Might be worth it, depending on whether we can get that thing under control or not.


    I knock on the cockpit door and don¡¯t get a response, but it¡¯s already ajar so I pop my head in. Cindy is in the copilot seat, chatting with Bob. She¡¯s got a headset on and everything.


    ¡°Are you helping to fly this thing?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Hello there, Noah,¡± she says, just now noticing me. ¡°I do have my license, just in case of emergencies like this one, but Bob¡¯s doing all the hard work. I¡¯m mostly here for moral support.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know she could pilot, but I stash that tidbit into my file on her in my index. I examine the cockpit door. Yeah, I think this will work.


    ¡°Well, keep morally supporting,¡± I tell her, ¡°because we¡¯re going to need to do something a little different than a standard landing. I think I can minimize the impact on you two, but this is going to be bumpy.¡±


    ¡°I knew something was up when we picked up a pair of F-16 escorts,¡± Bob says, pointing off to each side through the big cockpit window. ¡°Just like the ones I used to fly when I was younger. They haven¡¯t said much, but they¡¯ve made it real clear that they¡¯re keeping an eye on us.¡±


    There¡¯s a mix of nervousness and nostalgia in his voice. I peer out and sure enough, there¡¯s a military jet on either side. They¡¯re keeping a respectful distance instead of shooting us down. Apparently General Whitman still values his good name.


    I lay out the plan for getting the passengers onto the ground. Bob radios our two escorts and they agree to keep far enough away from us that they shouldn¡¯t be a problem. They¡¯d probably be fine as long as they weren¡¯t right on our tail, but the further the better. Cindy takes it all in stride as if I¡¯d just let her know how we preferred our coffee. I reinforce the cockpit door as soon as I¡¯m outside of it. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll lose pressure in the whole cabin, but it doesn¡¯t hurt to add another layer of protection.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get started,¡± I declare as I stride back into the main cabin. I feel the plane start to descend as Bob follows the plan. ¡°Everyone get with your flight buddies.¡±


    Lin, Fiona, and Michelle sidle up next to me. I see all the other implantees get surrounded by their two or three contact interfacers.


    ¡°Ready?¡± I ask. Everyone nods except Marc.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just use the emergency door?¡± Marc asks again. ¡°That would be so much easier.¡±


    ¡°No, Marc. We can¡¯t,¡± I tell him, losing my patience. ¡°We want Cindy and Bob to survive.¡±


    He takes the simplified answer and nods. Good. That worked better than Walter¡¯s explanation of fluid dynamics and wind shear that he gave earlier. I surround each of the members of my group with a flight suit, encasing myself last.


    I tear into the floor, creating an opening down into the cargo area. I hop down in, and everyone else follows. There¡¯s a big crate down here, as tall as I am and roughly cube-shaped, one that I didn¡¯t expect to see.


    ¡°That¡¯s mine,¡± Louise says, seeing my eyes on it. ¡°Don¡¯t mess with it.¡±


    I shrug. I don¡¯t have the brain cycles to figure out what she¡¯s up to but I trust that whatever it is won¡¯t hurt anything. Evan, Andrea, and I start sealing and smoothing, creating a pocket of the cargo hold that¡¯s separated from the rest of it.  Soon we¡¯re packed in like sardines. If we do this right, when we cut through the outer fuselage the sudden decompression and wind shear won¡¯t rip the whole plane apart. At least I think it won¡¯t. I know this will be rough up in the cockpit, but if we do things right, they¡¯ll be fine. It¡¯ll be much rougher here, but even those of us just sporting contact interfaces would probably be able to survive the fall if they kept their heads on straight.


    I feel the plane level out and check the integrity of our compartment one more time. Our sealed off pocket is as good as we have time to make it.


    To All: 3, 2, 1, Go!


    I punch through the bottom of the fuselage. The air screams as it gets sucked out by the pressure difference. I feel my flight suit¡¯s pressurization like when I¡¯m flying high and fast. I check one more time, and don¡¯t feel any breaks in the new sealed off section, though the plane is doing some terrifying shaking. I feel out what I can. I think it will hold together.


    I cut along the edges of our sealed section of the plane, starting at the furthest point back and quickly moving to the front edge. I see the cuts Evan and Louise are making rushing to meet mine. In a moment that lasts forever, the section of the fuselage beneath us detaches from the plane. The metal sheet gets ripped away as the wind catches the leading edge. Adrenaline courses through my veins as Louise¡¯s crate and the Butler family enter freefall. Me and my siblings tumble down to the city of New Orleans waiting below.

 Wed 10/16 14:59:03 CDT

    It takes a moment to get my bearings and get a good look at the city. There. The roiling mass has expanded since the news footage from earlier today. Now it infests more than nine city blocks in the area between Lake Pontchartrain and the Mississippi River. Has it reached the river or any of the canals yet? No. Good. Maybe it can still be contained.


    The nearly perfect circle tells me that the bots are running algorithms like the dumb version in St. Louis. They¡¯re mostly staying together in one main mass, and they¡¯re not flying up into the air. There are a few tendrils following richer materials, but something in the way they¡¯re coded makes them prefer to stay in one body rather than spread out.


    I thank Mom and whatever other angels might be out there that the day is overcast and the weather is cool. With full sunlight on a warm day, half the city might be covered by now.


    To All: Evan, Jen, and, Erik, take your groups to the north side of it. That¡¯s the side towards the lake. Andrea, you¡¯ve got the west with Marc and Stan. Louise, Phil, and Lisa, you¡¯re on the East side. Becky and Steph, follow me. Everyone stay with your group leads.


    The falling cluster of siblings spreads out, still plummeting at breakneck speed. A parachute pops from the top of the crate as Louise guides it in her direction.


    To All: Remember: get it shaded, get it contained, and starve it of anything with refined metals. Save lives wherever you can, but don¡¯t worry about property. Do as much collateral damage as you need to, just get a perimeter around it.


    I accelerate downward, pulling Lin and my two sisters with me. Becky and Steph follow suit, their Roadbuilder and Doctor charges in tow. We land a block south of the edge of the roiling mass. My breath frosts as my flight suit dissolves. I feel the chill on my skin. I didn¡¯t dress for this temperature. With a thought I suit back up, nanobots encasing me up to my neck. The mass of wild bots has sucked the heat down to near the limits of the endothermic reactions that let it pull ambient energy. That¡¯s hopeful. Its growth should be throttled way down.


    ¡°Can we start clearing?¡± I hear Steph shout.


    My cloud spreads out, giving me an awareness of everything around me.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I call back. ¡°I¡¯m seeing a lot of people still inside these buildings, we need to get them out first.¡±


    Bystanders are all around, shivering on the street and peeking between buildings to get a view. Police and fire crews are trying to get everyone to back away, but they¡¯re vastly outnumbered and don¡¯t seem to be having much impact. News crews are all over the place. Hopefully Sheryl is doing something about our PR, but I don¡¯t have time to care about that. Inside the run-down apartment buildings between us and pure chaos, people are clustered around windows looking out on the disaster side.


    I need to get these buildings out of the way now, and get these people out of here. I start thinking of how to do it when a giant mushroom cloud explodes in the air over the tops of the buildings. I fully expect to die in the orange inferno. General Whitman did it. That idiot dropped a nuke and doomed us all.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    But I don¡¯t die. Nothing happens at all. There¡¯s no heat, no blast wave. Just a panicking mass of humanity running as fast as they can away from the slowly growing doom.


    From Marc: Don¡¯t worry, the nuke is from Andrea to scare off the bystanders. It¡¯s just a projection.


    Andrea, you are brilliant. It looks so realistic.


    ¡°Becky, Lin, Roadbuilders, get us some shade,¡± I shout. ¡°Doctors, start demolition. That building is almost empty now. Anything metal or plastic, get it away. Ignore wood, stone and brick on the first pass, get it later.¡±


    I focus on getting the last straggling bystanders clear, willing or not. Most of the street is empty, and people are bolting out of the buildings with whatever belongings they decided were most worth saving. I ignore the ones leaving on their own, and cocoon up the rest. Some are too shocked to struggle as I haul them swiftly away from their deaths. The rest give me the same weird feeling that Fiona did, bugs struggling in my hundred hands. I feel Andrea¡¯s influence on my far left and Louise¡¯s way off to the right. They¡¯re getting the innocents out first too.


    ¡°All clear,¡± I call. ¡°Wreck and move as fast as you can.¡±


    I feel Lin and my siblings complying, roughly shoving down buildings towards the street we¡¯re standing on, away from the goo. I feel the slowly growing line of wild bots, breeding and feeding as they come. I grow too, consuming everything in front of them that¡¯s at all usable for replication. It¡¯s energy intensive, so I spread tendrils out to where it¡¯s warmer so I can get the power I need to maintain the effort. Soon I have a steady stream going out for recharge and coming back with enough juice to share with the rest of my cloud.


    General Whitman or somebody else must have done something about our fake mushroom cloud, because the first responders don¡¯t try to come back anywhere near us even after Andrea¡¯s gargantuan pyrotechnics are replaced with the growing sun shade. Hopefully, they¡¯re evacuating the city by now. The last thing I need is to see fire crews or police getting in harm''s way here. Every now and then, I feel an especially brave and stupid reporter or camera crew entering the area. I cocoon and flick them to the far edge of my range whenever I notice them.


    All the while, I continue to swell and grow. I surround and defend. I am my cloud, an infinite spread of tiny points. I¡¯m jetting through space, gripping, tearing, breaking, consuming. They¡¯re still coming. I chew into them, but for every one I get, there are a billion more behind it. Slow as they are, they¡¯re coming faster than I can ever stop.


    ¡°Perimeter is clear,¡± I hear from somewhere far away. Back near my body, that distant thing I barely feel now. I let my focus snap back, allowing the automated tactics to run for a moment and hold the line. The day has turned to night with the sun shield above covering everything. I can barely see the edge of it.


    ¡°Good,¡± I shout. ¡°Move in. Start clearing. Try to get under it. We''ve got to cut off every path to raw materials.¡±


    It¡¯s still growing. We¡¯ve slowed it, but it¡¯s still growing. I feel out the other fronts. They¡¯ve got a good wide firebreak like ours, a city block wide all the way around with nothing much usable for bot building. But they¡¯re not pushing it back either. I¡¯ve grown immense¡ªlarger than I¡¯ve ever been¡ªbut it¡¯s still not close to enough.


    I push out, gather the materials we¡¯ve pushed out of the way. Growing, growing. Using all the energy from my feeding streams and setting up hundreds more. I feel the surface of the Mississippi River freezing behind me. I push my feeders further out, spreading, taking all the heat and light I can find. I drill down, pulling as much heat as I can from the moist ground below. I am everything. I am everywhere.


    It¡¯s still not enough. The mass continues to grow.

 Wed 10/16 17:03:47 CDT

    It¡¯s hopeless. We didn¡¯t get here in time. The city is going to be leveled, the country next, and eventually we¡¯re all going to die. The headache is splitting me apart. My diagnostic scan shows the blood vessels in my brain about to burst from the pressure. I¡¯ve never had it hurt this bad before. If I grow any further, I think I might literally die. Even the infinitesimally small number of bots that made up my flight suit are committed now, even though my distant body shivers with the cold. Andrea¡¯s illusions are long since gone. I shrug through the pain. Stopping this is more important than my health or sanity will ever be.


    I feel my siblings¡¯ clouds, and Lin¡¯s, and Valerie¡¯s. None of them are growing anymore. We¡¯re all capped out, and we¡¯re not holding the perimeter. And nevermind the parts of the swarm that are digging downward, we can¡¯t even stop the edges of the circle from encroaching, centimeter by agonizingly slow centimeter.


    From Evan: We¡¯re so close to having it stopped. Can you go bigger?


    To Evan: I¡¯m giving it everything I can.


    Options. Options. Do we have any options? Is there anything else we can do? We¡¯ve got everything on the surface that they can use cleared away or consumed. Try as I might, I can¡¯t make any progress in getting underneath to block the minerals and warmth underneath the swarm. There¡¯s just too many of them and when I wedge into the constrained space underneath them, I can¡¯t maneuver and end up pinpricked.


    If Jeff had left them with any smarts, there might be a chance to try to hack them like Father did with the original gray goo so long ago. But these aren¡¯t responding in any way to anything on any communication channel. They¡¯re not even coordinating with each other, except that they seem to have some directives that keep them together and stop them from cannibalizing each other. I guess it¡¯s probably better that they¡¯re dumbed down. If they had any smarts and wanted to spread, they¡¯d have flown out of our containment zone in an unstoppable flood way before we had arrived.


    I wonder, if anyone survives this, if they¡¯ll ever figure out that all of this traces back to me. I broke Jeff. I killed our father, the man that could have reined him in even if Jeff had ended up a madman anyway. Everything here is fundamentally my fault. I ended the world.


    From Louise: We¡¯re not holding.


    To Louise: I know. I can¡¯t do anything else.


    From Louise: I can.


    To Louise: Then do it. Whatever it is.


    From Louise: I¡¯m holding you to that. You can¡¯t be mad at me later.


    To Louise: I don¡¯t care about anything but holding back this swarm. Whatever you have planned, just do it.


    From Louise: Hold the line as well as you can then. I need most of my attention for this.


    I feel a weakening in the perimeter to my right. I strain to pick up the slack. What¡¯s she doing? What was in that crate? I wish I could spare the attention to find out, but I exist for one purpose only, and that¡¯s to contain and destroy wild nanobots. I dance and evade and kill and push back in trillions of places, only to be overwhelmed again and again by the unstoppable tide. The line is slipping faster. Meters escape me as the minutes tick by at a glacial pace. It¡¯s most of the way across the firebreak, we¡¯ll have to clear another ring of city blocks soon.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    The ring of my phone distracts me. It¡¯s General Whitman again. I don¡¯t have time or attention for him. I reject the call and hand the phone to Lin.


    ¡°Text him that we¡¯re working on it and to keep away,¡± I request. ¡°And tell him thanks for not nuking us.¡±


    She nods and starts tapping the phone screen. She¡¯s still paying attention to the battle, but for her keeping a close eye on it is less critical. Her interface isn¡¯t like mine. She can¡¯t micromanage the action to optimize performance like I can. She mostly just needs to keep directing her bots to chew back where they are being chewed.


    I try to rededicate my focus to the melee, but having paid some attention to my body once, my flesh pulls my attention back to it again. It¡¯s freezing. My fingers, ears, and nose are numb. It doesn¡¯t matter. Nothing matters but the task at hand. I can¡¯t spare a single bot or a single joule of energy on anything but that.


    Lin hands back the phone and notices my shivering. She¡¯s still wearing the oversized sweatshirt that she often puts on when we work together in the office. She unzips it and pulls me towards her, wrapping the sweatshirt around my torso along with hers. She starts to zip it behind my back as I slide my arms inside, around her waist. The warmth of her body and the coverage of the soft, stretchy material make all the difference. Lin makes all the difference. I¡¯m not going to let her die.


    I¡¯m not letting anyone else die.


    I¡¯m an infinite spread again, my human form already a fading memory. I know I¡¯m only gaining a little bit more performance over the automated algorithm, but it¡¯s enough. The spread slows again. Even more than before Louise went off to do whatever she¡¯s doing. The swarm has almost stopped.


    Almost.


    I can grow more. I can stop this. I expand again.


    The splitting headache seems to focus into a stabbing point of white hot pain right behind my left eye. It¡¯s so much worse than any headache I¡¯ve ever had, like a knife plunged directly into my brain. Even the dim light coming from the edges of the sun shield suddenly seems too bright. I stagger and almost fall, but Lin keeps me up. She disengages me from her sweatshirt and half-carries me to the steps of the yellow apartment building on the far edge of our firebreak. She clears debris from a small area of the first two steps with one hand and sits me down. She¡¯s strong for her size.


    ¡°Are you OK, Noah?¡± she asks, her voice full of concern.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I say, returning my focus to the defensive perimeter. My diagnostic scan shows a ruptured aneurysm in the primary motor cortex. That¡¯s not great, but the medical bots that constitute my implant know how to handle that. They¡¯re already working on resealing the arteriole. Anyone without an implant would be in trouble, but I¡¯ll probably be fine. Mostly fine. Voluntary motor functions are overrated anyway. I make a note to talk to Louise about not having permanent brain damage when we¡¯re done with this.


    From Louise: Help incoming. Keep holding it.


    Who on earth did she call in? Everyone who can fight this is already here, except for Antonio¡¯s crews, and they¡¯ve got to still be hours away.


    To Louise: I¡¯m trying. What are you up to?


    From Louise: You¡¯ll see.


    To Louise: Why won¡¯t you tell me?


    From Louise: You might try to stop me.


    I¡¯m tempted to argue, but I decide not to care. Whatever she¡¯s doing, there¡¯s no other way. I¡¯ll take salvation at any price.

 Wed 10/16 18:20:11 CDT

    Decision time. The edge of the crawling swarm is less than ten meters from the edge of the firebreak. It¡¯s right there, just steps away from where I sit. If we¡¯re going to clear another block of firebreak, we need to do it soon. The swarm will be able to grow faster with our attention and bots diverted to demolition and cleanup, so it needs to be now if we¡¯re going to do it. Not that there¡¯s a lot of potential bot-hull material left after we¡¯ve been at it for this long. Maybe it¡¯s not even worth it to clear. It¡¯s hard to tell since I can¡¯t probe much without pulling my efforts from the front line.


    To Louise: ETA on that help?


    From Louise: Almost ready. Two minutes.


    I forget about expanding the firebreak. If whatever Louise is planning doesn¡¯t work, we¡¯re done anyway. I focus on pushing against the encroaching swarm instead. Two minutes feel like two years. The sun shield has gone from a disk in the sky to a wall to the west as the sun creeps toward sunset. The day¡¯s light will be gone soon.


    A nagging sensation from back in my flesh reminds me that humans need water. It¡¯s dwarfed by the blinding pain of the headache, but it¡¯s a need that will have to be addressed at some point. I don¡¯t remember when Lin found the dusty blanket that now envelopes us both. I do remember for a moment that I have eyes. I open them. The light sensitivity isn¡¯t as bad now, the repairs to the ruptured blood vessel must be going well. I see that she or someone else has provided the rest of my group with blankets too. Hopefully, the rest of the family have also found ways to not freeze.


    I feel Louise¡¯s influence rejoin the fight. Her cloud lets me retract from the vast curve to my right, focus more of my bots on the area in front of me. The swarm¡¯s progress drops back to a near standstill.


    From Louise: Ready now.


    I feel a new bot signature from Louise¡¯s side. Then another, and another. Soon there are more of the new signatures than there are signatures I recognize. Dozens. No, hundreds.


    To Louise: You didn¡¯t!


    From Louise: I did. Desperate times.


    To Louise: Who?


    From Louise: A big part of the New Orleans Fire Department. All their first responders and anyone else they could get here.


    I feel the host of new bot wielders pushing in. We¡¯re making progress for the first time since we arrived. The swarm recedes before the new wave. I push with renewed vigor, managing my trillion tiny battles with precision and finesse. It¡¯s still a standstill here in front of me, but with the new force extending along the line, I feel a renewed sense of hope. I push the fact that what Louise did opens up many new and dangerous doors to the back of my brain to worry about later. We can sort that out some other time, if the world exists as more than a swarming ball of dumb bots.


    I let my focus slack just enough to ease the splitting pain in my head. I¡¯m still micromanaging wide swaths of the line, but I¡¯m not pushing myself as far past my limits anymore. The new firefighter clouds integrate seamlessly with each other and with the efforts of the Doctors and Roadbuilders. Together, they compensate for my decreased effectiveness. Like Lin, they should just need to continuously approve the app¡¯s recommended actions when dealing with a known threat like this.


    I retract some of my cloud from the defensive perimeter, and smile as the new clouds continue to make up the difference. I feel out to get an idea of how the other fronts are faring. Andrea¡¯s side took the least damage, next to mine. They also held to their first firebreak, but just barely. With the reinforcements, they¡¯re holding steady now just a couple of meters from the next row of rundown apartments buildings. Evan¡¯s side had to level a second row of city blocks around the center of his line. The damage on the eastern side is by far the worst. Louise took a big risk with her plan, but their four-block wide firebreak is slowly expanding now, reclaiming the area and revealing a shallow slope down into the chaos.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It¡¯s going to take forever to actually eliminate all of these things. Longer than any of us will be able to stay conscious or remain here in the freezing cold. I can feel fatigue setting in for me, and I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m the most conditioned of any of us to doing this kind of thing over long periods. Most of the Geologists look exhausted. Marc needs to stop soon, tears are frozen down his cheeks and he¡¯s barely able to stand. Evan and Louise look tired but still determined. Andrea is still standing strong, but even she is showing some fatigue. The Doctors and Roadbuilders seem to be doing the best of any of us, probably because without the implant, their interface is less taxing on the brain.


    The firefighters and paramedics, all in uniform with many sporting protective gear, have come up near where my siblings are holding the line. They look fresh and seem to be adapting well to their new contact interfaces. Louise is amazing for getting all of them set up as quickly as she did. That crate she brought must have been full up with preinstalled SynTech phones and nanobot starter packs.


    What to do next? We can¡¯t just keep battling directly unless we want to conscript the city¡¯s police force next. Not something I want to do if we can avoid it. Bad enough we¡¯ve already given the interface out to hundreds of people that we haven¡¯t vetted at all yet. If Antonio¡¯s people were close enough to be helpful any time soon I would be able to sense their ship by now. There¡¯s got to be a better solution. With the spread stopped, I can focus on finding it.


    Mostly, I need some kind of material that I can use to encapsulate the area. Something that presents a surface that¡¯s harder for the wild bots to chew through than it is for me to put up. Something hard and abundant and useless as a material for making more bots. Lin¡¯s teeth chattering echo mine. Maybe I could think better if it weren¡¯t so damn cold here.


    Duh.


    I¡¯m an idiot. I should have thought of this a long time ago. Not that I had a lot of brain matter free for thinking, but still, it¡¯s so obvious now. I retract even more of my bots from the front line. The firefighters hold. Their clouds have been growing. Their collective total cloud size is larger than mine now. Good. I have enough slack to work with.


    I start digging a sloped trench underneath the mass of the swarm while I form the pipes I¡¯m going to need going back towards the Mississippi. I crack through the river¡¯s surface ice and push an intake pipe into the water. I select the most powerful pump in the construction library and start the water flowing this way. As the water pours into the trench, I line the edges with my bots, sucking heat, quickly freezing it and creating the perfect barrier. I slide my bots in deeper, hollowing out openings for more water underneath.


    Dig and line and pump and fill and freeze.


    Dig and line and pump and fill and freeze.


    I¡¯ve spread the underground ice shield all along the perimeter on my side. I need more water. I set up a second pump system and pull more from the river.


    Dig and line and pump and fill and freeze.


    Openings through the ground that I assume were once sewer lines are now tentacles of swarm bots. Fortunately, the cohesive principle that seems to be a part of its simple code kept the tendrils from extending too far from the main mass. I¡¯m able to isolate and destroy them pretty quickly.


    Dig and line and pump and fill and freeze.


    The ice shield spans five city blocks underneath the swarm.


    Dig and line and pump and fill and freeze.


    Another pump system, and another.


    This whole area is going to be useless for buildings without a massive overhaul that involves digging up everything several meters down. I put rebuilding New Orleans on my list of things to do.


    Dig and line and pump and fill and freeze.


    I¡¯ve reached the bottom, under the center of the mass. Something is wrong here. Where the rest of the swarm has formed a shallow bowl, here there¡¯s a shaft going straight down. A shaft that¡ªin defiance of all logic¡ªis miraculously clear of bots.


    ¡°No,¡± I breathe. The word seems just a little slurred for some reason.


    ¡°What?¡± Lin asks.


    My mouth doesn¡¯t want to work right. The words slur as I form them. ¡°Jeff ish alive.¡±


    My phone beeps. I fumble for it with numb fingers. It¡¯s a text message from Jeff¡¯s phone number.


    I see that you have found me, brother. Just as resourceful as I remember. You are right. We should talk.

 Wed 10/16 19:31:48 CDT

    I try to get up, but my muscles aren¡¯t cooperating. One side of me doesn¡¯t seem to care what I want to do at all. It doesn¡¯t matter. I want to be armored for this anyway. Who knows what other traps Jeff might have left behind as he fled.


    To All: Jeff is alive. He¡¯s down underneath the swarm somewhere. I¡¯m going to need you all to hold the line while I go after him. Containment should be easier on my side now. Check out how I did the ice shield on my side. See if you can duplicate that under the whole thing.


    From Evan: Let me come over and get a better look. I¡¯ll transmit the plans out to everyone.


    As my giant brother runs toward me, I pull back a big chunk of bots, lifting and encasing my flesh in a thick layer of them. Something about Evan charging me as I suit up in the bulky protection I¡¯ll need to get through that bot swarm triggers a faint memory from forever ago. A comic book. Of all the things to linger in my last vestiges of real memory, why would I hold onto that. There was a superhero suited up like I am, but red and gold instead of black. He was going to fight some big green muscly hero for some reason. I don¡¯t remember any details beyond those two images. It doesn¡¯t matter. I flex my new bigger limbs and the motion feels natural, better than the human muscles that were failing me. I¡¯m warm for the first time that I can remember. I form a few canisters and start compressing air. I¡¯m guessing that there¡¯s not going to be a lot of that handy as I dive through the swarm, and I don¡¯t know what the underground tunnel situation is. I may have to swim through some of that water that I piped over.


    ¡°Wait, Noah!¡± Lin pleads, ¡°You can¡¯t be thinking of going down there!¡±


    My phone beeps again. Another text from Jeff.


    In case you are hesitant to engage with me, or if you believe that you can simply strike me from a distance, you should be aware that I have sixteen contingency devices hidden around the nation that will trigger in the event of my death. Be sure to come alone.


    Of course he does. Sixteen doomsday devices like this one. Probably all set with a deadman switch that he needs to check in with to prevent them from going off. I finish off the first canisters and attach it to my back inside the armor, routing it to the air filtration system the armor provides. I start on a second one.


    ¡°I have to go,¡± I tell Lin, the slurring in my voice persisting. ¡°I need to keep you shafe.¡±


    ¡°Wait, why are you talking like that?¡± she demands. ¡°Did you have a stroke?¡±


    I don¡¯t want to undermine my case by talking any more.


    To Lin: It was just a little one. It¡¯s fine. My implant is handling it.


    I send it as I shrug off her grip on my armored arm. I get the second air canister filled and placed.


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    ¡°Noah, don¡¯t you dare go down there!¡± she shouts at me. ¡°Evan, stop him! You can¡¯t let him do this!¡±


    My brother puffs out clouds of breath as he arrives. ¡°Lin, he¡¯s got to. If Jeff is alive and gets away, all of this could only be the beginning of our problems.¡±


    I show Evan my phone.


    ¡°And he is.¡± He shakes his head. ¡°And this is much worse than we thought.¡±


    I fill my third canister and mount it. That should be plenty for as long as I could possibly be down there.


    To Evan: You¡¯ve got this. The Brazilians should be here soon on the Esperan?a. A couple more hours tops. If you give them the firmware from our latest contact interface update, their headset crews can help clear this out. You just need to hold out that long.


    ¡°Got it, brother. We¡¯ll take care of things here. You do what you need to do.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Lin shouts again. ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go. Access Omega denied!¡±


    Omega? What¡¯s access Omega?


    Something triggers in my electronic brain and all of the sudden I¡¯m a tiny piece of meat encased in a metal shell I can no longer control. My whole larger self is gone.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± I stare at Lin, who is fortunately standing in front of me. I don¡¯t think I could move this armor at all with the meager strength left in the side of my body that will still obey orders. The swarm surges forward toward us as the micromanagement I¡¯d been providing stops and my bots revert to the preprogrammed defensive routines. Even those will stop in a minute if my cloud still thinks I¡¯m gone.


    Even with this fundamental betrayal, I can¡¯t muster up even the tiniest bit of anger toward her. She took my bots! She might as well have chopped off my arm. How am I not burning with rage?


    ¡°Say you won¡¯t go. Say it and I¡¯ll reconnect you.¡±


    ¡°I have to. He¡¯sh got shixteen more just like thish.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± She runs to my armored body and grabs me around the middle as if that could change the realities of the situation.


    Evan gently peels her off of me. ¡°I was hoping never to have to use this, but we don¡¯t have time right now for you to work out your issues. You two will need to fix your weird sex code stuff later. Activate protocol brotherly love.¡±


    And suddenly I¡¯m me again. The whole enormous cloud of me with my human body just a tiny fragment of the greater self. Whatever sneaky tricks Lin had implanted in my code and used to make her access levels disconnect me from my cloud, they¡¯re gone now, wiped out by my brother¡¯s planning and foresight. He must have set up that trigger to revert every change she¡¯s ever made to my code.


    Lin starts screaming and cursing in at least two languages as she sees me moving again. Evan ignores her and pulls my face close to his. Even in the armor I¡¯m barely as tall as he is.


    ¡°Get in there, Noah. Find out where Jeff¡¯s failsafes are. Get the message back to us. Then kill him. I trust you, brother. If anyone can do it, it¡¯s you.¡±


    I nod and turn to go.


    ¡°At least let me get him a doctor before he goes!¡± Lin¡¯s angry shouts transform into panicked pleas. ¡°Louise or someone from the Doctor class should check him. Or even one of the paramedics Louise has over there.¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t matter anyway. There¡¯s nothing they could do here that the implant isn¡¯t already doing. But that¡¯s too many words for my broken mouth to string together, so I don¡¯t even try.


    ¡°Go!¡± Evan booms, pulling her back from me again. ¡°You need to go now!¡±


    He¡¯s right. There¡¯s no more time for this. I turn away from the girl that for some reason I still love and the brother that just saved me from her.

 Wed 10/16 19:38:11 CDT

    My armored body jets forward, towards the roiling mass of mindless bots. I lift up and over, finding the center, then lift up higher. A hundred meters or so and full thrust downward should be enough to get past terminal velocity. I want as much momentum as I can get.


    I dive straight down head first.


    The plunge into the mass of bots is like trying to dive through sand, if every grain of sand were covered with tiny claws and trying to eat you. The bots that make up the surface of my armor bite back as fiercely as their attackers, but they¡¯re surrounded here a million to one.


    From Lin: You get back up here now!


    My initial plunge got me several meters down, about halfway through to the bottom of the depression. I descend further into the squirming chaos, chewing the bots below me and pushing back on the ones above me. I feel the constant pinpricks as I lose the outer layers of my armor and do some calculations. I¡¯m OK. I¡¯m moving fast enough that I should still be able to reach the bottom before my skin is exposed.


    To Lin: I can¡¯t. Even if I wanted to, at this point my only way out is down.


    My progress feels glacial. It¡¯s like trying to sink through honey.


    From Lin: Then you get down there and find another way up. I don¡¯t want to be a widow before I even get married.


    I don¡¯t think that¡¯s how that even works, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good idea to contradict her over it.


    From Evan: How are things going? Did you make it?


    To Evan: I found a shaft going down at the bottom of the swarm. The bots aren¡¯t going down it. I think it¡¯s Jeff¡¯s escape hatch.


    The swarming mass has chewed through half of my armor, but I¡¯m almost through.


    From Lin: I love you! I¡¯m sorry!


    To Lin: I know.


    I can feel the ice on one side of the shaft. I¡¯m so close. The continual pinpricks of my armor being consumed have gone from irritation to pain. I hate losing this much of myself this fast.


    From Louise: We¡¯ve got this up here. Your ice idea is brilliant. It¡¯ll probably take days to clear this all out, but with this we should be able to keep it contained until help arrives.


    To Louise: Good. Thanks.


    I feel slushy water flowing down below, the product of my pumping setup.


    From Evan: Plug that shaft when you get to it so we can get ice all the way around under there.


    To Evan: On it. Will be there soon. Set up more pumps from the lake and get the whole thing frozen if you can. I¡¯m handing off a bunch of my cloud up there to you. I doubt it will do me much good down here and I want all my attention available for Jeff. Spread it out to the others if you need to.


    I release all the bots that are up above ground, along with all the ones digging. I feel Evan accept control. I feel so small again now. Just me and the bots in my armor.


    From Evan: Got them. Wow, how do you do anything with this many? I feel like my brain is going to explode.


    To Evan: Just hand them off to the firefighter crews. Between them, they should be able to put them to work.


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    My head finally breaks through the bottom of the lake of bots and it¡¯s like breaching the surface of water after a deep dive, but upside down. I kick down and through, freeing myself from the writhing swarm and consuming the stragglers that had attached to me.


    The tube is pitch black, a couple of meters wide, and very long. My bots feel the surface of the shaft. The walls are some kind of ceramic that¡¯s smooth, hard, and devoid of any of the minerals that would let me grow my cloud back up. Jeff definitely set this up ahead of time as an escape route. A slow flow of slushy water emerges from where my initial digging had broken through, maybe half a meter below the line where the swarm stops itself.


    I crack through the surface of the tube, gathering materials. I don¡¯t have a lot of charge left in my bots after my dive through the swarm, and it¡¯s cold and dark down here so there¡¯s no prospect for easy recharging, but I have enough power to create a seal in the tunnel above me. There¡¯s plenty of energy left for mobility, the drain from that is nothing compared to the construction effort of sealing the tube. I hear the water pooling on the other side of my seal. It¡¯ll be a wall of ice soon enough. I check my armor before I go further, smoothing out where it was more damaged and ensuring that I¡¯m covered everywhere. I have ideas for some of the things that Jeff might pull, and I want to be prepared for any of them.


    From Lin: Did you make it through? Are you OK?


    The shaft goes straight down a long, long way before making a turn. I let myself drop to the bottom, landing with a crash as my armor absorbs the impact. The rounded tube opens to a square horizontal shaft with walls, ceiling and floors made from that same ceramic material.


    To Lin: I¡¯m through. I¡¯m in a tunnel. I¡¯ll get back up there when I can. When I¡¯ve handled my brother.


    I start walking down the shaft. My muscles still don¡¯t want to cooperate, especially on the right side, but the armor compensates and I¡¯m able to move at a normal pace. The tunnel is freezing, but the armor design insulates really well and I don¡¯t even have to expend any extra energy to keep my flesh warm.


    From Lin: How could you risk yourself like this? I¡¯m so angry with you right now!


    The signal I get from her is faint. I think the tunnel surface has some blocking properties. If I go much further, I¡¯ll be all alone down here in mind and in body.


    I wonder if Jeff is still down here, or if this was some kind of trick. A death trap that he¡¯s luring me into. I¡¯m so tired of chasing after him. Please Mom, let him still be here.


    To Lin: I made Jeff what he is today. All of this is my fault. Mom always taught me to take responsibility for my actions. I have to do this. If there¡¯s any chance at all of catching him and stopping him now, I have to take it.


    From Lin: No! No, you don¡¯t. What you have to do is get back up here and stay with me. What you have to do is get your brain checked and make sure you don¡¯t die from the stroke you just had. Get back up here now!


    I continue down the tunnel. There¡¯s a downward slope, so walking along it feels effortless. I see a light ahead, way off in the distance. Please let it be Jeff.


    To Lin: Blood vessels bursting are a known risk for the implant. There are safeguards that automatically repair it. It¡¯s handled. I¡¯m fine.


    From Lin: You didn¡¯t look fine or sound fine. If you don¡¯t get back up here now, I¡¯ll never forgive you.


    Every footstep reverberates along the empty tunnel. If he¡¯s down there, he knows I¡¯m coming.


    To Lin: I hope that you will once you cool off, because I need to do this.


    From Lin: Fine. Go get yourself killed. I¡¯m so mad at you right now I don¡¯t even care!


    The tunnel slopes further downward. I¡¯m at the very edge of the range where I can still get a signal up to the other clouds.


    From Lin: I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean that. Come back up now, please. I don¡¯t even care about killing Jeff. Just come back. I love you.


    To Lin: I love you too. I will come back if I can.


    The connection to the other clouds breaks. There¡¯s too much mass between them and me. I could switch to the new acoustical signaling system, but at this distance it would be useless for talking to Lin. Maybe Andrea could receive a message, since her cloud¡¯s almost as big as mine was and that gives her a massive receiver, but it wouldn¡¯t even register with the others. I hope Lin still wants me when I get back up there, she seems really mad and freaked out right now.


    Problem for later. Right now, I need to fix my broken mouth. I¡¯m going to need to talk to Jeff, and this slurring voice won¡¯t do. Most of the problem is that my jaw muscles on the right hand side aren''t responding to the signals from my nervous system. I connect a group of bots along that side of my mouth, just inside my cheek, and practice working my jaw that way. I think I can get it to open and close my mouth right like that.


    I let myself bark out a laugh as I test the process of forcing my mouth to move with my bots. It¡¯s such a Jeff solution to the problem.


    I walk the rest of the long, dark tunnel with only my slowly improving voice and my echoing footsteps for company.

 Wed 10/16 20:11:16 CDT

    The light is getting close. I feel bots nearby. Jeff¡¯s bots.


    ¡°Noah.¡±


    I hear his voice echoing down the tunnel to me.


    WARNING! NOREPINEPHRINE/SEROTONIN LEVELS INDICATE MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    I force down my rage. I can¡¯t just kill him. Not until I know I can take care of those failsafe devices. Stay calm. Breathe.


    ¡°Jeff.¡±


    The word almost sounds right. Hopefully close enough that he doesn¡¯t notice the stroke symptoms. The last thing I need is to project weakness right now.


    ¡°As you said, we should talk,¡± Jeff says. His voice is unnaturally calm, given that he has to know that I¡¯m here to kill him. ¡°Brother.¡±


    ¡°We should,¡± I reply. It¡¯s close enough. My voice is fine as long as I speak slowly and carefully.


    ¡°Indeed. You and I have a great deal to discuss,¡± Jeff says. His voice, on the other hand, is far from normal, even for him. It¡¯s not just calm, it¡¯s missing the energy and inflection I would expect. It¡¯s not quite mechanical, but it¡¯s not quite human either. ¡°I have information that you will find to be of great importance to you. Please, come into my lab. I mean you no harm.¡±


    I don¡¯t trust Jeff at all, but if all that he wanted was to pull some kind of trap, he had plenty of opportunities while I was walking the tunnel.


    ¡°Pull your bots back, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± I say slowly. ¡°I might have some trust issues right now.¡±


    He complies, and my overlay doesn¡¯t show any bots remaining near the exit from the tunnel. I step into the light, keeping my bots tight around me for both armor and mobility. I take a look around the large space.


    I was wrong. This isn¡¯t his escape hatch, this is his workshop. This is where he¡¯s been all these months while I¡¯ve been searching for him.


    The air is warm here. I let my bots drink in the ambient heat, charging their depleted energy stores. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the room are made of that same smooth ceramic material that lined the tunnel. I can see now that it¡¯s a pale yellow color. I get a vaguest association with the restrooms at my old high school, a lifetime away. Maybe they were this same color, but I can¡¯t remember.


    Along one wall are racks of servers with blinking lights and humming fans. Along another are open shelves. Most of them are piled high with medical supplies. One holds neat stacks of cash, organized by denomination. There¡¯s probably a million dollars there. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s CPP money, that much cash missing would have made enough news that it would have come up on Lin¡¯s algorithm. The whole place smells like the strong disinfectants they use in hospitals with a stinky, burning smell over the top of it.


    Long rows of what look like cots with built in metal ankle and wrist restraints hold his prisoners. I count twenty-four cots, but only thirteen of them are filled with sedated young men in medical gowns. And then there¡¯s one woman, the blonde from the CPP, also sedated and restrained. I guess they¡¯re not on great terms anymore. The rest of the cots are empty. It looks like it¡¯s too late for his other victims, but maybe I can save these.


    Spaced just a little way from the rows of prisoners is another cot, this one without restraints. Next to it is the entrance to the bathroom, complete with a little blue plastic man on the door. I wonder for a moment what happened to the other people he kidnapped. There were dozens more. Did he take them back up? Can I at least reclaim the bodies for their families? Then I see what must be his incineration area, an open alcove the size of a coffin cut into the far wall with a closable door that hangs open now. Traces of ash line the surfaces, so he¡¯s already disposed of some bodies. I¡¯m too late for even that small victory.


    Fresh air blows in from vents in the ceiling. That and the power outlets along the walls tell me he¡¯s got connections to the outside world. A laptop sits open near the server racks. A browser on the screen open to a standard search engine tells me he¡¯s even got internet access down here.


    And there, in the middle of it all, on a swiveling, backless stool, sits Jeff. He looks good, all things considered. The hair on one side of his head is gone, burned down to his scalp. The skin underneath looks red and scorched. The damage is recent. I think that¡¯s the burned odor I¡¯m smelling. Looks like General Whitman¡¯s missile strike this morning had at least a little success, though obviously the defenses the bots put up were strong enough to keep Jeff alive.


    Jeff¡¯s right arm is missing too, as is his right leg somewhere above the knee. In their places are metal prostheses. Skeletal lines of what look like steel form the bones, with articulated joints where the knuckles, wrist, elbow, ankle, and knee should be. His left eye is gone, a metallic-looking replacement fills the socket where it used to sit. From the way the skin around the missing limbs and eye has healed, I¡¯d guess the other damage is much older.


    Other than that, he seems to be doing better than the last time I saw him when he jumped off that bridge. The frantic, bloodshot look is gone from his one good eye. From the way his clean shirt seems tailored around the shoulder and the way his pant leg tapers between the stump of his human leg and the metal thighbone, it seems he¡¯s been taking better care of himself lately.


    He flexes the fingers of his metal hand, picks up an apple from the table in front of him, and brings it to his mouth to take a bite. The motion is familiar, like a stop-motion animated skeleton. My index triggers. Yes. I wrote about this. It¡¯s the same mechanical motions he¡¯d make with his human hands back when he would operate his body like a puppet with his bots.


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    ¡°Care for a bite?¡± he offers. ¡°I assume you haven¡¯t had time for an evening meal.¡±


    He indicates a small refrigerator with a clear door near the entrance, near the server racks. It¡¯s loaded with apples like the one he¡¯s eating and some other food that requires no preparation. For a moment it¡¯s as if we¡¯re back in the campus cafeteria getting lunch together. Except that he¡¯s actually chewing his own food now instead of having his bots do it.


    I get enough bots focusing on him that I can get a pulse read. Unless he¡¯s made dramatic improvements in his ability to deceive, his biometrics indicate that his offer is sincere. I realize that I¡¯m starving. Yeah, why not? There¡¯s nothing he can try to do to me with an apple in my hand that he couldn¡¯t do anyway, and the longer I delay, the more charge I¡¯ll have on my cloud when it comes time to end this. I step over to the fridge, pop it open, and take a shiny red one. Jeff motions to another stool like his on my side of the room. I take a seat, retract the facemask of the armor, and take a bite. The bots in my jaw help me to chew. It¡¯s juicy and delicious.


    ¡°Good apples,¡± I say slowly. The bots supporting my jaw are definitely working. I don¡¯t think the slur is noticeable at all anymore.


    ¡°Indeed they are,¡± he says in that same emotionless voice. ¡°I obtain them at an organic retailer a few miles from here. They are my favorite.¡±


    ¡°I see you have a new arm there,¡± I say. ¡°And a new leg. Are those a recent thing?¡±


    He nods slowly.


    ¡°The fall into the river broke the bones in several places the last time I saw you. By the time I had the implant working and enough nanobots to do anything effective, infection had set in and amputation was the only option. Do not worry. I do not miss the original parts. The replacements are more than adequate. Superior in many ways. I am tempted sometimes to reach symmetry by removing the other side, but I never seem to find the time. If they make you uncomfortable, I can enable my concealment for them.¡±


    His bots swarm around his fingers and something close to flesh in color and shape forms around the mechanical hand. Somehow that looks creepier than just the metal bones.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not necessary.¡±


    The fleshy covering dissolves and he waves the skeletal hand in a dismissive gesture.


    ¡°And the eye?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Unfortunately, the installation of the optical interface proved too difficult to manage on my own. I had to employ a workaround. The artificial eye substitutes effectively enough.¡±


    ¡°Painful?¡±


    ¡°Terribly,¡± Jeff answers, still without emotion. ¡°But as you well know, pain can often be a price well worth paying to achieve a desired end. And you? Have you taken to wearing an exoskeleton regularly? Or is that just for this occasion?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just for today. How about your new friends here?¡± I gesture to the row of victims. ¡°How are your plans coming along? Any significant breakthroughs?¡±


    ¡°Noah, Noah,¡± Jeff says. ¡°We have just reconnected after so long and already you want to get down to business?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure how to respond to that. Does he just want to hang out like brothers for a while? Like we sometimes used to do in the common room of the dorms?


    ¡°We could just skip to the part where we negotiate my life against your sixteen failsafes.  I think that¡¯s probably where this is going based on your messages.¡±


    He shakes his head.


    ¡°It does not need to be that way.¡± He forces his mouth into a smile without changing his tone at all. ¡°We have combined our efforts in the past to significant success. I acknowledge that I have wronged you, just as you must acknowledge that you have wronged me. I propose that we put our differences aside and work together once more. The greater good is more important than our petty personal issues.¡±


    ¡°So, no grudges about letting you take the fall for killing Father, then?¡± I ask. ¡°For preying on your mental illness? For the river? For any of it?¡±


    ¡°I have had ample time to process your betrayal both while I was at Wallace and since that time. I understand that from your perspective, it was the only viable path to a goal that we shared. I applaud your creativity and innovation in finding a solution to our common problem. With significant reflection, I came to agree that it was indeed the only solution that would have worked. Ultimately, I thank you for helping me to gain a deeper understanding of humanity with its corresponding weaknesses and failings. It was a necessary learning experience for me.¡±


    All sincere, according to my polygraph functions. I don¡¯t know what I expected, but this isn¡¯t it. He seems to be in a mood for sharing, though. I¡¯m tempted to ask if he¡¯s so willing to collaborate then why didn¡¯t he ever call off the hitmen watching the Wallace Hospital, but I don¡¯t think taking the conversation in that direction would be helpful. Better to let him think that we can work together on the human hive. Maybe that way I can get him to give up the deadman switch contingencies he¡¯s got waiting.


    ¡°What about the attack on my grandparents?¡± I ask. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Another unhelpful line of questioning, but it¡¯s too late now. ¡°What did they have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. I imagined that you would be curious about that. The whole affair was Smith¡¯s idea. A price he demanded for his assistance both to me and to our mutual benefactor. He and Dorothy James were lovers, did you know? He was quite obsessed with extracting revenge for both his humiliation and her death. He knew it was you and the others that had killed her, of course, though the ruse with the earthquake was very clever. I quite expected that you would survive the event in Denver. I even considered contacting you once that was over, but I wanted us to meet again on a more equal footing. And on a one-on-one basis.¡±


    ¡°Is there some reason you needed me alone for this?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± He smiles his gruesome grimace. ¡°I do not believe that the others would understand my proposal. Or even give it proper consideration. Evan is only able to see in black and white, only able to accept what he already believes to be the proper course. Louise is too enamored with preserving humanity in its present state. Her faith in the primacy of the human mind echoes Father¡¯s. Chad was never more than a lackey. I was pleased to hear of his demise. Your doing, I assume?¡±


    ¡°Actually, no,¡± I reply. ¡°That one was on Dorothy. We were on surprisingly good terms when he died.¡±


    ¡°Interesting.¡± Jeff nods. ¡°Back to our siblings. Marc is a fool not worth discussing. And Andrea¡ªwhile she will certainly bring beauty to the world whatever the state of things¡ªcould not be entrusted to make any significant decisions about the correct path to improve humanity.¡±


    ¡°But you can? You¡¯re the one who should be making that call?¡±


    ¡°I am open to input,¡± Jeff says in his most magnanimous monotone, ¡°but I have a rough plan in place. Yes.¡±


    ¡°The human hive.¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°Tell me all about it then.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he says. I wouldn¡¯t know it from his tone or body language, but his vitals show that he just relaxed quite a bit. ¡°I knew you had the moral flexibility and pragmatic nature required for this kind of work. Please, make yourself comfortable while I explain.¡±

 Wed 10/16 20:36:54 CDT

    Jeff¡¯s human hive master plan turns out to be a weird amalgamation of the original hive mind concept, a nanoplague, and the excruciator. The medical bots are supposed to go viral, infecting humans with a specialized version of the implant that connects them to everyone else within an ever-growing mesh network. The implant hooks into the pleasure and pain centers and provides stick-and-carrot motivations to ensure the well-being of everyone in the network. It¡¯s not exactly the scenario I thought it would be, but it¡¯s not too far off either.


    ¡°Think about it,¡± Jeff says, his voice finally indicating some excitement as he explains. ¡°If one person suffers pain or deprivation, everyone receives punitive feedback. If the collective network of humanity is healthy and well cared for, everyone receives a mild pleasure feedback. As the network expands across the world, everyone receives appropriate incentives to ensure that everyone else on the planet is taken care of. The larger the disparity between an individual¡¯s personal well-being and the collective well-being of the network, the more that individual is punished or rewarded. Those least privileged do not receive punishment for their own status, indeed, they would receive a reward for the collective health of the network being above their own. And those most privileged¡ªthe healthiest, best fed, most pleasured¡ªreceive a greater punishment for allowing others to suffer.¡±


    As he talks, my index triggers and pops snippets from Jeff¡¯s therapy notes, allowing me to interject and express a much greater understanding and agreement than I would be able to on my own. He seems pleasantly surprised that I grasp each part of his concept when he¡¯s only halfway through explaining it.


    ¡°And once the human and nanobot network is well established, we¡¯ll introduce a modified version of the swarm AI into the collective. With every human life prioritized as a system input, the collective would optimize for human happiness, equitable resource distribution, and a healthy and verdant environment on this world. We can even preserve the AI¡¯s original intent to provide motivation to extend humanity across the universe. All of the Butler institute¡¯s goals achieved within a single generation. A new golden age for all.¡±


    Honestly, as far as take-over-the-world plans go, it could have been a lot worse. It¡¯s way less bad than some of the ideas he talked about with his doctors. It¡¯s even altruistic. Jeff doesn¡¯t stand to gain anything personally. Not that I really expected anything like that, since Jeff¡¯s not really a king of the world type.


    He goes on to explain his implementation details, which are all over the place in terms of feasibility. He¡¯s thought through some of it pretty well, like how to implement the backpressure mechanisms to keep the plague swarm from just consuming everything for resources as it goes. For a lot of the heavy lifting, he seems to have counted on the original bot AI figuring things out, which I don¡¯t know would end well. On some other things, he seems to have just glossed over other important aspects. I figure it¡¯s time to get him believing that I¡¯m fully engaged, so I start asking him the kinds of questions I would if we were really going to build this monstrosity.


    ¡°So, how would you keep everyone that gets infected¡ª¡±


    ¡°Added to the network, please,¡± Jeff insists.


    ¡°Fine, added to the network. How would you keep them all from dying from septic infection caused by unsterilized bots flying into their brains.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm. I had not considered that.¡± He taps his metal fingers on the table by his stool. ¡°This sort of thing is exactly why I wanted a second set of eyes on this.¡±


    ¡°It would be nice if we could bring in Louise. She¡¯s great on the medical side of things,¡± I say casually. I don¡¯t mention that getting us up to the surface to talk with her would make things a lot easier for what I really want.


    ¡°You know that is not an option. As I said, she lacks the moral flexibility required for an undertaking of this nature.¡±


    Worth a try. I consider throwing out some other names from kids in the Doctors class, but Jeff was anti-social enough that I don¡¯t think he knew or trusted any of them well enough that he¡¯d be interested in recruiting them.


    ¡°You could just use a dermal implantation instead of getting direct brain access. That solves a lot of the issues.¡±


    ¡°I had considered that,¡± Jeff answers. ¡°But it seemed that the interface would be too limited.¡±


    ¡°If you can cover the hands, every gesture is an input, and there¡¯s a lot you can do with this. And for output to the human host you can just have the nanobots form themselves into contact lenses.¡±


    ¡°Could that work?¡± His single human eye widens in surprise. ¡°I had not considered that option at all.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a few hundred working proof-of-concepts up on the surface if you want to see. We can even use off-the-shelf phones that people already have for the processing nodes. They¡¯re ubiquitous across most of the planet already, and the transistor density on their hardware is a lot better than the bots can achieve. And they can double as range extenders. You could grow the network tremendously faster that way.¡±


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Intriguing. Perhaps later on a trip to the surface might be beneficial, once you and I have established sufficient trust.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of that, I¡¯d like to have some additional assurance that those failsafes you mentioned won¡¯t go off while we¡¯re working down here. It wouldn¡¯t do us much good to figure out the details of the human hive only to get back up there and not have enough humans left to set it up.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, my failsafes. I was surprised that you were able to come past the one above us so quickly. Impressive resourcefulness.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. So about the rest?¡±


    ¡°Fine for another fourteen hours or so, I assure you.¡±


    His deadman switch fires at noon then. There¡¯s got to be some action that he needs to take before then to extend it another day.


    ¡°Well that should be plenty of time to get some work done then.¡± I look over at the CPP agent¡¯s cot. She looks like she¡¯s been through a lot since the video of her in the SynTech data center. Where in that footage she had appeared athletic and muscular, now she looks malnourished and gaunt. Angry red streaks mark her skin near the edges of the ankle and wrist restraints. ¡°Do we need to worry about your benefactors? The CPP? I take it you are no longer on good terms with them?¡±


    Jeff swivels his chair to face her. ¡°You surmise correctly. Their resources proved useful at some critical stages for me, but their goals and mine were fundamentally incompatible.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not worried about them sending someone after her? Or after you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have counted on it. That was how I acquired him, him, and him,¡± he says, pointing to three of his other victims on their cots. ¡°Their organization is well-funded and remarkably adept at certain operations, but quite small in their scope. When you have fled from the might of an entire government, a few skilled operatives seem less intimidating.¡±


    So not all of the guys chained up in here are the results of kidnappings. These three poor guys walked right into his spiderweb. I wonder if their bosses told them what they were up against. Probably not.


    ¡°Well, I suppose it¡¯s good not to waste useful resources.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. I am not a monster.¡± He says it with such matter-of-factness. With his polygraph showing complete sincerity and the rows of what look like tortured prisoners right in front of him, I can barely stop myself from barking out a laugh. He doesn¡¯t seem to notice and goes on. ¡°I could not neglect the opportunity to allow them to give their lives to the future of humanity.¡±


    How generous of him.


    ¡°So, our research into the CPP indicated that the solution they wanted out of you was a nanobot scare with a limited scope. Something like a limited nanobot outbreak the size of a city. Is that what you did for your failsafe devices? You wouldn¡¯t have wanted the whole world to go if you had some unexpected difficulty in making it to your deadman switch, right?¡±


    ¡°The swarms released by my boxes would expand until they either reach magma below or oceans to the side. Everything from the polar ice to the tip of South America would be eradicated, but the remainder of the world would continue unharmed. It would be an unfortunate situation, but a fitting monument to the death of my dream. And perhaps it would shock the remaining people of the world enough that they would come up with another solution to this world¡¯s ills. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    WARNING! NOREPINEPHRINE/SEROTONIN LEVELS INDICATE MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    ¡°That seems a little extreme.¡± I force my face and voice into calmness.


    ¡°I understand,¡± he says calmly. ¡°Perhaps you will come to commit as deeply as I have to the project once you more fully understand it.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°But as you indicated, we are in a situation where trust is at a premium. The failsafe devices are necessary since I could not risk that you might rashly attempt to terminate my life. This work is much too important for that.¡±


    ¡°So now what?¡±


    ¡°I assume that you need some time to consider whether to join yourself to my cause. I assure you, I have carefully considered this course of action, and it is the most effective way to achieve our family¡¯s goals of preserving life, ending suffering, and elevating humanity. Indeed, it is the only course that will achieve those ends. I can give you twenty minutes to deliberate. After that, if you agree, I would ask for a gesture of good faith.¡±


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t agree?¡±


    ¡°I certainly could not allow you to remain alive,¡± he says with casual detachment. ¡°You would attempt to stop me if you were not on my side. I would appreciate your assistance, but I cannot allow your interference. I will complete this project on my own if I must.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± I say, as calmly as I can. ¡°I probably would need to put a stop to it, if I weren¡¯t on board.¡±


    I suspect that I could take him in a straight fight. I don¡¯t sense all that many of his bots here and mine have recharged enough that I wouldn¡¯t be hampered by the low energy levels I walked in with. His failsafe devices, though, those are still the problem.


    Could I figure out on my own what he does to prevent them from triggering in time? Probably not. Even something as simple as needing a password would stop me for that long, and Jeff is paranoid enough that he wouldn¡¯t make it that easy.


    I guess continuing to play along is the only real option. Losing the American continents and everyone on them is probably a worse outcome than just helping him succeed with his crazy plan.


    ¡°This gesture of good faith,¡± I probe. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Just something to assure me of your commitment. Something that you would not be willing to do unless you were truly dedicated to assisting me with my plan.¡±


    I don¡¯t like the sound of this.


    ¡°Specifically?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I would require that you eliminate the two people most likely to disrupt our plans.¡± He leans towards me. His organic eye joins his metallic one in fixing me with a disconcerting stare. ¡°The two people you might value above our goals for humanity. I would need you to kill Evan and Louise.¡±

 Wed 10/16 21:44:19 CDT

    ¡°It has been twenty minutes,¡± Jeff says. His voice and pulse both signal his impatience.


    I¡¯m as ready as I¡¯m going to be. I turn off the acoustical signaling mode and feel Andrea¡¯s cloud disconnect. I¡¯m alone again with my brother.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I answer.


    ¡°Yes, as in you acknowledge that twenty minutes have passed? Or yes, as in you agree to my terms and will work with me?¡±


    ¡°Both,¡± I say flatly. I want him to recognize my reluctance. If he thinks I¡¯m too eager to jump onto this ride, even someone with his limited social skills will know I¡¯m lying.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± he says, and his pulse quickens. He¡¯s got something else he¡¯s nervous about.


    ¡°So I just head up and kill them then?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he replies. ¡°I do not imagine it will be too difficult for you.¡±


    ¡°No, I guess not.¡± I turn to head back down the tunnel.


    ¡°Just two things first,¡± Jeff says, calling me back.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask in the same reluctant tone.


    ¡°First, you will want the proper transmission sequence to pass through the swarm above safely.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that was an option. They do know how to talk then?¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t send, just receive. I¡¯ll transmit the proper code sequence and frequency, just repeat it at least once per second for ten seconds and any parts of the swarm in range will temporarily deactivate.¡±


    My bots¡¯ receivers capture his transmission. It should be easy to copy that.


    ¡°Please do not think that this will work on my failsafe devices, because it will not. Those have no deactivation sequence.¡±


    I nod and turn to leave again.


    ¡°One last thing,¡± Jeff says. His pulse is racing.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I turn back to him.


    ¡°I do need some assurance that you will not simply emerge, rally the rest of our family, and return here to dispatch me.¡±


    ¡°I would have thought that your failsafe boxes would be enough for that.¡±


    ¡°In a world where we were all rational actors, that would be the case,¡± he says. The manic gleam is back in his one good eye. ¡°But we both know that is not the case. Not for me, and certainly not for you.¡±


    So much for him thinking I was the coldly rational one. I guess I¡¯m not as good an actor as I hoped.


    ¡°Spit it out, Jeff. You already have me killing the two people in the world that I love the most, what more do you want from me?¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Even as I say it, it feels somehow wrong. I think there¡¯s someone else that I love more, but I can¡¯t think of who. That seems like something I should make sure to remember. I¡¯ll have to check back in my log when I have time.


    ¡°I indicated earlier that we had wronged each other and that we should set our differences aside,¡± Jeff says, clearly trying to stay calm when he¡¯s more excited than I¡¯ve ever seen him. ¡°That is true. But the scales are far from balanced between us, and I need to monitor your actions. Two birds. One eye.¡±


    No.


    Really?


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Would you prefer to be restrained?¡± he offers without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ¡°It would minimize the risk of unintentional damage.¡±


    ¡°Are you kidding?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, his voice terrifyingly gleeful. ¡°Last chance for the restraints.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I shout with all the force in the world.


    The whole room comes alive. He¡¯s got as nearly as many bots in here as I had wielded up above. They had just been in some dormant mode that hadn¡¯t allowed me to detect them. The walls, ceiling, and floors erupt with them, wrapping me and my entire bot armor suit. I try to get my faceplate reformed, but they¡¯re all over me. Not that it would have done much good when I¡¯m this outnumbered. I start to scream, but my mouth fills with his bots. Even my muffled shrieks are silenced when my nostrils fill as well and all my airflow is sealed up.


    The pain is even worse than the aneurysm I had earlier. Excruciating. Worse than anything I could have imagined. I¡¯m glad that I can¡¯t see what he¡¯s doing to me. Once he¡¯s past the surface of the eye, the intensity of the pain subsides, but I can still sense him digging in. My good right eye sees the bloody chunks of its destroyed twin being carried away by Jeff¡¯s bots. I smell a horrific aroma of scorched flesh as he cauterizes the socket. The space feels empty for a moment before I see the air in front of me darken and fill with bots forming a small sphere. They insert themselves into my left eye socket. I feel my eyelid blink over an eye that isn¡¯t mine.


    He took my eye!


    ¡°There. I think we can call ourselves even now for your betrayal,¡± Jeff declares with a satisfied smile. The frantic emotion that had filled his voice a moment ago has faded away completely. ¡°As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware, I can now see everything you see. The eye has an audio pickup as well. I can also kill you quickly, should you decide not to honor the terms of our agreement. Do you understand?¡±


    I gasp as his bots clear from my mouth and nose. For a few minutes, all I can do is sob. Jeff waits patiently, his maniacal rage abated. His bots have disappeared again.


    He took my eye!


    ¡°Do you understand?¡± he repeats.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I finally say, getting myself under control.


    ¡°Good. I look forward to a fruitful partnership then. Please return when you have completed your task.¡±


    ¡°One more thing,¡± I say, forcing my voice to sound as composed and calm as I can. It quavers anyway.


    ¡°Yes?¡± he responds, the tiniest hint of curiosity in his tone.


    ¡°You¡¯ve changed the terms of our deal, and now so will I. When I get back, I want the locations and triggering mechanisms for all of your failsafe devices. A gesture of good faith from your side. If I¡¯m committed to this plan of yours, I don¡¯t want it to fail if you have a heart attack or something. If you have a knife to my throat with the eye, you don¡¯t need one threatening the whole continent.¡±


    He ponders for a moment.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± he finally says, returning to that same damn emotionless voice. As if he hadn¡¯t just maimed me. ¡°I will provide you with the information on your return.¡±


    I turn to the tunnel and stalk back towards my family.


    He took my eye!


    I probe around where my eye used to be, where Jeff¡¯s new eye rests. His isn¡¯t connected to anything, other than the growing trail of bots keeping it connected to his mesh network. The eye isn¡¯t trying to hook into my optical nerve or anything like the implant does. Good. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s got any way to break the encryption on my console and overlay, but he¡¯s not even trying to. At least my thoughts are still my own, even if my vision and hearing aren¡¯t anymore.


    I switch my bots back to the acoustical signaling mode and send another burst of sonic information up through the rock and earth above me as I begin the long walk back up the tunnel. A dozen steps later, I feel the connection to the other cloud running in this mode.


    To Andrea: I¡¯m coming. Be ready.

 Wed 10/16 22:16:08 CDT

    At the end of the long tunnel, I lift my head up and look up with my one eye into the blocked shaft above, giving both me and Jeff a view of it. I feel so broken. I¡¯m such an idiot, just walking in there, thinking I stood a chance. Of course he¡¯s going to have the whole place fortified. Of course he¡¯s going to be running the biggest cloud he can all the time. After his time in the Wallace Hospital, why would I think for a second that he would push himself any less relentlessly than I did? I take a deep breath, hold it, and slowly exhale. The pain is still sharp, but it¡¯s subsiding.


    I still can¡¯t believe he just took my eye like that.


    I step back a meter or so into the tunnel and reach up with my bots. I cut a hole through the plug I had put in place, and watch as it crashes to the ground in front of me. I start cracking into the ice above it as I transmit the shutdown code. The wild bots deactivate just as I breach through and let a small avalanche of ice thunder down. The deactivated bots pour over the dirty chunks of ice like fine metal dust. I check the seals on the faceplate and jet upwards into the flowing, sleeping swarm. It takes all the strength of the powerful exoskeleton to push myself through the opening against the flow of the sand-like bots into the bottom of the massive and still-full bowl. Getting through here on my way back down is going to be a pain.


    To Andrea: I¡¯m here.


    I push up through the dormant swarm, fighting the current flowing down into the pipe. It¡¯s a relief to rest my feet on the surface when I get there. Swimming upstream through flowing dust is exhausting even if it¡¯s my mind doing the work and not my body. From up here, the flow down into the shaft is inconsequential enough that I don¡¯t even see much of a dent in the surface. I take a look around, but it¡¯s almost pitch black. Then suddenly it¡¯s not. Someone has put up some big floating lights above the swarm pit.


    ¡°Noah!¡± a voice calls. A pretty young woman with short black hair rushes towards me from my right side riding a floating circular disk. I know her. What¡¯s her name?


    ¡°Hey,¡± I say, retracting the faceplate of the armor and feeling the blast of cold on my face.


    ¡°You did it!¡± she exclaims. She floats up on her disk to grab my bulky form and kiss me long and hard on the mouth. Lin. That¡¯s right. She¡¯s the one I love that I couldn¡¯t remember. I love Lin. I¡¯m going to marry Lin one day. I feel the kiss, and I also feel something hard pressing into my back. Oh, good. The delivery from Andrea. I need that. I let it melt into the inside of the armor on my back as I silently take it from her hand. She lets me go and gets her first good look at my face.


    "Wait, what''s wrong with your eye?" she asks.


    Now Jeff knows about her. Not good. I don¡¯t want him to have any more leverage against me than he already has. And I really don¡¯t want her to get hurt. Maybe he¡¯ll leave her alone after he sees me kill Evan and Louise.


    ¡°I''ll tell you later. Nothing is final yet, but we have a plan,¡± I tell her, hoping Jeff interprets that to mean that he and I have a plan. ¡°Please, trust me. I¡¯m doing the right thing. You¡¯ll want to step back. You don¡¯t want to be close to me right now.¡±


    I disengage from her and survey the area. Lin looks a little hurt, but she complies, backing several meters away from me. My siblings and the firefighters are lined up along the edges of the giant circle that had once been New Orleans¡¯ doom, joined by dozens of newcomers wearing VR goggles. Antonio¡¯s crew did arrive in time to help then.


    ¡°Evan!¡± I shout, amplifying my voice to deafening levels with my bots. ¡°Louise! Come here! I need you!¡±


    Two rocketing shapes move towards me almost immediately, one from the north, one from the east.


    ¡°Brother!¡± Evan shouts, as he touches down and his flight suit helmet dissolves.


    I put up my one finger, gesturing for him to wait as Louise rushes in.


    ¡°Hey, Noah,¡± she says, her helmet blowing away like dust. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    Once she¡¯s down I can begin.


    ¡°I just wanted to say goodbye,¡± I tell them. ¡°And thank you. Thank you for being the best brother and sister I could ever ask for. I love you both.¡±


    They look at each other then look back at me, their faces wearing matching masks of concern.


    ¡°What are you talking about, man?¡± Evan asks, taking a step towards me on the unstable dust that was once a swarm. ¡°I mean, I love you too, but what¡¯s going on?¡±


    I take a step back, making sure I have both of them clearly in my field of vision.


    ¡°Also, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, as I strike out ruthlessly at both of them simultaneously. The bots that had formed the gauntlets of my armor rush like cannonballs into each of their faces. I feel the crush of flesh and bone and see each of their heads explode back away from me in bursts of red and white.


    Lin screams as their bodies fall onto the sleeping dust that was once a swarm. I hear an echo of screams from all around the perimeter of the swarm¡¯s devastation.


    ¡°Noah!¡± Lin cries. ¡°What did you do?!?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say again, keeping my voice as cold as I can. ¡°I did what I had to do.¡±


    I take a long look at each of the bodies before I close the faceplate again and reform my armored gloves. That should satisfy Jeff.


    To Andrea: Thank you. Take care of Lin until I get back, please. The intake should be somewhere near these coordinates.


    I send her the distance and direction I¡¯d traversed from Jeff¡¯s lab to here. She responds with a single letter Y.


    ¡°Why did you do that!¡± Lin demands, rushing towards me. She strikes at my armored chest with her small fists.


    ¡°Please. Trust me,¡± I say one more time. ¡°And get out of the way.¡±


    I lift upwards, even further this time than the first time I dove into the pit. I want as much momentum as I can get. I compress more air and top off my air tanks, just in case. Lin stands defiantly below me.


    To Lin: Please move. I don¡¯t want you to get hurt.


    From Lin: No! Not until you tell me what¡¯s going on! Why did you just kill Evan and Louise? And why do you need that thing?


    To Lin: I¡¯ll explain it all later. Right now, I need you to move. I need to do this while I still remember everything.


    She reluctantly steps aside and I begin my dive. I see Andrea¡¯s dragonfly suit coming towards her from the west and Valerie skimming in from the north just before I plunge back into the sea of metallic dust. It¡¯s a better trip through it than my first time. Nothing is trying to eat me, as least. I follow the flow back down through the hole and into the vertical shaft. The bottom several meters of the pipe has filled up and the bot dust is slowly flowing into the tunnel. I push on through the dead bots and seal the tunnel tightly behind me without looking back.


    I begin the walk back to Jeff¡¯s lab, the darkness of the tunnel matching my mood.


    It¡¯s not good that I couldn¡¯t remember Lin back there. I check my diagnostic scan as I walk and compare it to one from last week. There¡¯s extensive remodeling, more than I¡¯ve ever seen before in this short of a time. The area around the burst blood vessel looks like it¡¯s cleared up, but that area has remodeled quite a bit, too. Even more than the rest. I don¡¯t want to lose my motor skills. I dissolve my right glove again and try flexing my hand without the armor. It doesn¡¯t work. Nothing. I try again on the left side. That hand can at least open and close. I sigh and reform both gloves.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The tunnel seems longer this time. I don¡¯t know why. It doesn¡¯t matter though. I take my time walking along it. I¡¯m in no hurry now, the slower I go, the better. I still can¡¯t believe that I forgot about Lin so quickly. I probably would have forgotten the others if I hadn¡¯t been talking to Jeff about them. Finally the darkness gives over to light. I emerge into Jeff¡¯s lab.


    ¡°Brother, that was masterful,¡± he praises me as I enter.


    WARNING! NOREPINEPHRINE/SEROTONIN LEVELS INDICATE MURDEROUS INTENT! THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE YOU KILL ANYONE!


    I know. I know. I¡¯ve thought very carefully, so shut up, other brain. I disable the warning.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I tell Jeff, forcing all traces of the rage out of my voice. ¡°I hope you understand how difficult that was for me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I do. And I appreciate it. Come on, brother. We have a great deal of work to do.¡±


    ¡°We do,¡± I agree. ¡°But first I¡¯d like your gesture of good faith. How do your failsafes work?¡±


    ¡°Oh, certainly,¡± he says, almost cheerfully. ¡°In the event of my untimely death, you¡¯ll need to connect to a specific web page daily and enter the code ¡®father is dead¡¯ - that is all one word, no spaces, all lowercase letters. The link is bookmarked on that computer there.¡± He gestures to the laptop near the server racks. ¡°As long as the code is entered every twenty-four hours, the failsafes will remain dormant. Be certain not to enter the passcode incorrectly, as three attempts would result in activation. We will need to go and change batteries in a few years. As for the locations, they¡¯re recorded in my research notes, also on that computer. You¡¯ll have ample time to look there later. Satisfied?¡±


    I nod, indexing his instructions. I want to take a look at the link and locations now, but if I seem too eager to see them, I think I would destroy the trust I just earned.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s get to work,¡± he says. ¡°An all-nighter, like back in the old days on campus.¡±


    I nod, though I don¡¯t remember doing much studying at all with Jeff back on campus. Not that I¡¯d even remember at this point, since the events of less than an hour ago are already fading.


    ¡°Let me get you up to speed on what I have accomplished so far.¡± He turns and gestures to one of the young men on the cots. ¡°This subject has been the longest lasting of the test subjects that I¡¯ve used here. He has lasted two full weeks with an involuntary installation of the implant, which is a significant improvement over the prior groups. I believe that the design I used with him has potential to work as the basis for our project going forward.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± I tell him, ¡°but we probably want to start planning to move rather than just diving into the research. This location is compromised.¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± he says, putting his skeletal metal hand on the table in front of him and rising to his feet. ¡°You are quite correct. We should begin packing now. I will dispose of the test subjects. We won¡¯t be able to move them and they are so easy to obtain wherever we go. Where should we relocate to? I have quite enjoyed the climate here. Perhaps Florida next?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say. ¡°Wait, why don¡¯t we want to try to move the test subjects? We wouldn¡¯t want to lose the findings we can get from them. Can¡¯t we just stop their sedative drips and herd them onto a bus or something?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Jeff says as he bustles over to the cot nearest the incinerator. ¡°They are all quite permanently damaged. I found it so difficult to work with fully functioning bodies, I disconnected most of their systems from their brains so I could study the important parts in isolation. With the data I have gathered from this batch, we might be able to test on intact humans next time, though I suspect we may need at least one more of these limited test runs.¡±


    ¡°So they¡¯re not sedated?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. The IV is just a nutritive drip that keeps them alive. These people will never recover. A small price to pay for the world we will create, but a price that must be paid nonetheless.¡±


    They¡¯re all just trapped there, working brains with no motor control over their bodies. I can¡¯t imagine what kind of nightmare that must be. One more reason Jeff has to go, as if I needed more. On the upside, that simplifies this situation a little. I was worried that I wouldn¡¯t have enough air for everyone.


    ¡°I see,¡± I say quietly.


    I note the slightly decreased level of oxygen in the room. Good. Andrea has found the intake. I turn on a trickle of airflow into my helmet from one of the compressed tanks at my back.


    Mom, please don¡¯t let him have the atmospheric overlay enabled. I really need this to work.


    ¡°In any case,¡± Jeff continues. ¡°You are correct. We must prepare to move. Go ahead and get the servers shut down, while I take care of the test subjects. The proper sequence is documented on the computer there. Actually, while you¡¯re there, please reset the failsafe for the day. I don¡¯t want that to lapse while we are busy relocating.¡±


    I step over to the laptop and hit the bookmark labeled ¡°Failsafe Devices.¡± I enter the code and get a little confirmation that it succeeded. I quickly add the address of the page to my index for later. On my way to the server shutdown instructions, I also open the file containing all the failsafe box locations and snapshot that into my index as well.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need that yet,¡± Jeff says as he floats one of the bodies into the incinerator alcove and closes the door to it. ¡°As I said, the batteries don¡¯t need to be changed for years.¡±


    Of course he¡¯s still seeing out of my eye. His eye. I maximize the shutdown instructions to fill the screen and start to power down the servers according to the sequence the instructions show.


    ¡°See,¡± Jeff says. ¡°This is already better now that we¡¯re working together. We shall accomplish twice as much. More, even.¡±


    I notice a familiar hard drive sitting between two of the servers on one of the racks. A label reading Property of SynTech stretches across the front of it. An index entry pops for it and I read that it¡¯s the drive stolen from our brain-in-a-box facility. Not something that I should leave lying around. I turn my head to one side so Jeff¡¯s eye won¡¯t see as I pull the drive into a hollow in the interior of my armor.


    The oxygen levels are getting lower. The air still feels fine. Good. Andrea is doing it right, not introducing any extra carbon dioxide. I take another deep breath of fresh air from my tank.


    ¡°I feel so good about our partnership,¡± Jeff continues. ¡°It has been a long and lonely time since we killed Father together. Smith was poor company, I can tell you that. Intelligent, but not in ways that made for meaningful conversation. Willfully ignorant of so many of the more important matters. And always complaining of how much he missed his precious Dorothy.¡±


    He¡¯s starting to ramble. That¡¯s a very good sign.


    ¡°You look a little tired,¡± I say as casually as I can. ¡°You¡¯ve been working so hard for so long, why don¡¯t you take a rest and let me take care of getting things ready to move. I¡¯ll wake you when things are ready. How about Miami for our next location? I hear the weather there is very nice.¡±


    ¡°Now that you mention it, I am quite exhausted. Perhaps we¡¯ll do the all-nighter another time.¡± He staggers a little. ¡°Oh, yes. I may lay down for just a moment.¡±


    ¡°Good, you rest,¡± I tell him. I¡¯m a little lightheaded too, even with my frequent breaths from my tanks. The oxygen level is getting very low now. It¡¯s funny how the human body doesn¡¯t have a good way to detect that. If he¡¯d been looking at the right readouts for his bots, he might have known, but who besides me would even think to do that?


    "Oh, and I trust that your sexual relationship will not interfere with our work.¡± Jeff manages to sound both magnanimous and robotic at the same time. ¡°You may take breaks to attend to needs like that every now and then, but you''ll want her to be available locally. Or find someone local. Miami does sound nice. Let''s go there tomorrow."


    He lays down on the cot without the restraints. His implant will probably start flashing alerts soon to let him know that his brain is dying without oxygen, but by then it will be much too late. We¡¯re deep down here, there¡¯s no way he could get to where there is good, oxygenated air in time.


    ¡°I see Father sometimes,¡± Jeff says, his voice fading. ¡°Do you? We killed him, you and I. We solved that problem. AI will never control human minds now. Only the collective needs of all of humanity should do that. I thought it through. I solved the fundamental problem of humanity. We will preserve life. We will end suffering...¡±


    He trails off.


    ¡°And we will elevate humanity,¡± I say, completing Father¡¯s creed. ¡°You did solve it, brother. Good work. Now sleep. I¡¯ll take care of everything.¡±


    I switch back to acoustical signaling and pull the jammer out from where Lin planted it on the back of my armor. It will block all the radio frequency channels that the bots know how to talk on, but not the new technique based on subsonic transmissions. The alerts in Jeff¡¯s implant should fire any time now, he¡¯s well into hypoxia. I turn on the jammer.


    ¡°What?¡± he says, his voice still sleepy. ¡°What have you done? You¡¯ve disconnected me.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh dear,¡± he says, his voice quiet and weak. ¡°That will trigger my final failsafes. I am sorry, brother.¡± He yawns. ¡°I quite looked forward to working with you again.¡±


    Final failsafes? The eye. Of course. I quickly pluck Jeff¡¯s new eye from my socket. I scour out the cavity it leaves with my bots as I drop Jeff¡¯s creation on the floor, making sure no part of him is left in me.


    With that, Jeff closes his eyes and lies still.


    ¡°Goodbye, brother.¡±


    I close my faceplate and breath deeply from the air in my compressed supply. The eye on the floor erupts into a flurry of destruction, annihilating the floor beneath it and the leg of Jeff¡¯s cot where it had rolled, then going still as a pile of dust on the floor. One extra precaution that I¡¯m sure Jeff thought would take my head off in an event like this. The walls, floor, and ceiling rumble. Are all his bots going live and wild? No, none of them are jumping to the easily available metal of the cots and server racks. They¡¯re just tearing into the supports that kept this room from caving in.


    I check Jeff¡¯s pulse. He¡¯s dead. Finally. I scan the bots that had made up the eye and they''ve gone dormant. So have the ones embedded in the floor, walls, and ceiling that had just shaken the room. I hear a crack, then another and another. The walls begin buckling.


    Look, Mom. I cleaned up my mess. Are you proud of me, Mommy?


    And with that the ceiling falls. Several hundred tons of cool, damp earth and stone rain down on top of me.

 Thu 10/17 01:26:31 CDT

    I try again to dig myself out. There¡¯s not a lot of ambient energy to pick up here, so doing much growing isn¡¯t an option. My current cloud is barely big enough to maintain the thicker armor that¡¯s keeping me from being crushed and frozen. Using the small excess that I have to loosen the earth above me and push up from below me gets me another five centimeters. Hurray. At this rate, I¡¯ll break the surface some time later this year. Or maybe next. Not that the timing matters, I don¡¯t have enough air with me for either.


    I reach out to the sides. It¡¯s slow and laborious. I can dig, but I have nowhere to put what I move. Eventually, I find the power conduit that was bringing electricity down to the lab. Salvation! I tap in. With this, I should have plenty of power to grow to where I need to be to get myself out.


    No.


    No!


    It¡¯s dead. It must have been severed somewhere above when Jeff¡¯s lab collapsed.


    I breathe. Deep and slow. I think that¡¯s supposed to make my oxygen last longer. Did I hear that in a movie some time? I don¡¯t remember.


    Being buried alive is a strange sensation. Just me and my thoughts down here. I sent a distress call up to Andrea. I hope she got it. She didn¡¯t respond, but that¡¯s normal for her. I haven¡¯t been able to get any kind of connection to anyone else, they probably don¡¯t have a large enough spread to detect the signals from way down here. The connection was really weak though. If Andrea didn¡¯t get my message, I have a couple of hours worth of air in my tanks before I die.


    We had a plan to save the world. The one that Father made and I improved. We¡¯re behind now. Most of this year has been a loss, since we spent so much of it dealing with Jeff. There are half a dozen major projects we were supposed to have done by now that we haven¡¯t even started. Maybe I can finally go back and finish what Chad started in Africa if I get out of here. If I don¡¯t, I¡¯m sure my siblings will get there. And to the Nile. And another dozen rivers and lakes in Russia, India, China, and whatever other places I don¡¯t remember and don¡¯t have handy in my index. Water and power. That¡¯s what we were supposed to do.


    I remember so little now. Lin. Evan. Valerie. Andrea. Louise. I think those are all the people I know on my own, and it was hard to make that list. And Mom, but she¡¯s dead. Their entries pop as I put them down here and I know them all again. Until I forget.


    Mom, I think my mind is lost now. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s coming back. Too bad it didn¡¯t survive long enough to save the world. That plan was solid.


    I guess we did get the automines working, and that was ahead of schedule. And there¡¯s really no reason that the Geologists couldn¡¯t establish as many more as we want all around the world. That handles resource scarcity.


    I breathe in and out again, slowly, deeply.


    I look at the plan again in my index. The Roadbuilders are good kids. They¡¯ll get the world¡¯s transportation infrastructure fixed up. Clean, fast, durable, reliable routes between everywhere anyone might want to go to. Free solar-powered vehicles accessible on demand to whoever needs them.


    The darkness is consoling. There¡¯s so little to worry about here. Nothing to do but wait and think.


    The Doctors are so young. Can Louise really get them all into medical school? That would be good for them. Maybe all the kids should go do some college before they have to save the world with us. I don¡¯t know. We should talk about it all at the next class meeting, if somehow the earth above me moves and I ever make it to another class meeting. Having them take a few years off for formal training would slow the schedule, but maybe it¡¯s worth it. Getting to see life outside the Butler Institute campus would be good for all of them.


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    Louise¡¯s decision to share the tech with the fire department set a precedent that I didn¡¯t expect. Maybe we can put together a First Responder package for the contact interface and let fire departments, paramedics, and police all over have access. It wouldn¡¯t be that hard to limit it to only a subset of helpful features. I can see the benefits in police not needing to fear bullets, and while letting them incapacitate people at a distance is a little scary, it¡¯s probably an improvement on what they do now. We should be able to make it harmless. We¡¯re already licensing out our VR version for environmental cleanup and humanitarian projects, is this so different?


    Obviously we¡¯re going to have to deal with the public backlash against nanotech after this whole thing, but we contained the wild bots with our own nanotech without losing many lives, maybe none. I don¡¯t know. Definitely less than that missile aimed at Jeff must have killed.


    And besides, with the contact interface out to a bunch of people we can¡¯t keep track of, I don¡¯t think we could stop our tech from getting spread around anyway. No special hardware required, just a phone and a friend who already has the interface and is willing to share their cloud.


    My air is more than halfway gone.


    I look through my open index entries. Why was I looking at these? Oh. They were the only people I remembered. Why did I remember them? Andrea is going to get me out of here. She has the power to transmit and receive even with this kind of interference. She¡¯s almost as strong as I am in terms of sheer size, and so much stronger in so many ways. I send another message to her, but I don¡¯t get anything back. The link was so tenuous anyway. Maybe she¡¯s out of range, or switched back to standard comms.


    Why was I thinking of the others?


    Lin. I love Lin. We¡¯re getting married, but I don¡¯t know when. Will she still want me anymore? I¡¯m more broken now. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever walk again. Not like I used to anyway. I flex my fingers again. Only one hand moves. Better than nothing, I guess.


    Evan and Louise. Why was I thinking about them? I scroll back.


    Wait.


    I killed them?


    That doesn¡¯t feel like me.


    Mom, did I really kill them both?


    There it is, in my log. I caved both of their heads right in. I don¡¯t lie to myself. Not anymore.


    I don¡¯t feel good about that at all. My stomach twists in revulsion as I read back over what I did. The darkness stops comforting me and becomes a torture. How could I do that? Was it really the only way to save the world?


    Even then, it doesn¡¯t sound like me.


    Well, maybe. Jeff was at least partly right about me. I am pretty pragmatic. Morals have been kind of optional for me ever since Mom died. Then especially after I stopped feeling any guilt. And I really love having a world that¡¯s not destroyed. Probably at least as much as I love my siblings.


    It¡¯s dark down here.


    To Andrea: Maybe half an hour of air left. If you can come get me, I¡¯d appreciate it. I¡¯m still right above the lab. I¡¯m sorry about Evan and Louise.


    Even if she isn¡¯t getting my messages, she should know where I am, right? She knew where the lab was. Even if she didn¡¯t, the collapse of the lab must have caused some damage they could have seen or felt on the surface. Maybe they don¡¯t want to save me. I did kill Evan and Louise so maybe they¡¯ll just leave me down here.


    I spend some quality time gazing into nothing. Maybe another ten minutes of air left. I breathe again, deep and slow.


    I need to get the code and the link address to them, along with the locations of the failsafes. I already sent them to Andrea, but I¡¯m not confident she got them. Besides, when I die down here, I want people to know who I was. What I did. I want Lin to know I really loved her. Do I have time to decrypt my logs and index? Yeah. If I start now, they can all be in plain text stored on the drives in my satchel before I die. Whenever someone gets around to recovering my body, they¡¯ll be able to read every word and thought. Hopefully they can stop the failsafe devices in time.


    I start the decryption.


    I hope they understand.


    I¡¯m coming, Mom. I¡¯ll be there soon.

 Thu 10/17 03:27:04 CDT

    I feel tremors. Someone is digging hard and fast, ripping out huge chunks of earth by the sound of it. Good thing, the air tank is empty. I¡¯m just rebreathing whatever is in my pocket of darkness now, and it¡¯s been getting claustrophobic in here really fast.


    ¡°Careful, we¡¯re almost to him,¡± I hear from above me. That voice, that deep, resonant voice. It sounds familiar, but it¡¯s wrong for some reason I can¡¯t think of.


    A beam of light peaks through as the dirt above me lifts away like magic. I remember light. I open my faceplate to let it all in. The cold air shocks my face. It tastes so good as I gasp it in.


    ¡°Come on, brother,¡± says the voice. My index triggers on seeing his face.


    ¡°Hey, Evan.¡± I reach up and take his proffered hand.


    Wait. No. Evan is dead.


    ¡°Get him up here, let me check him.¡±


    That¡¯s Louise. She¡¯s dead too.


    Oh. This is the afterlife then. I always imagined it with less dirt. I look around for Mom, but I don¡¯t see her anywhere yet. Oh well, she was always better than me. She¡¯s probably in the one without the dirt. I feel Evan¡¯s strong arms gently lifting me as he flies up and out of the deep, deep hole in the ground.


    ¡°Get him out of that armor,¡± I hear Louise¡¯s voice say as we reach the surface.


    My armor melts away. Did I do that? I don¡¯t even know. I¡¯m enfolded in something soft and laid down on my back. Someone warm wraps crawls inside the soft thing and clings to me.


    A bright light shines into my eye. I see Louise up very close.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive! And awake!¡± she declares loudly. I hear cheering from all around.


    ¡°No,¡± I protest. My voice is thick and slurred. My throat is so dry and my mouth isn¡¯t working right. ¡°No. I¡¯m dead. Just like Jeff. Why are you all dead too?¡±


    ¡°No, Noah,¡± the warm one attached to my side says. That voice is so familiar and nice. I want to hear it all the time. ¡°No, we all made it. That last attack that the nanobot swarm did was brutal, but everyone survived.¡±


    ¡°Sorry it took us so long to get to you,¡± Evan¡¯s voice says. ¡°Andrea said we had time, and we really had our hands full with that last wave from the pit. They were flying, moving in coordinated groups, everything we ever worried about. We¡¯re pretty sure the original swarm AI was running on them. I¡¯m just glad that we had so much backup here when they started growing again and that it was already freezing.¡±


    One more failsafe, here on the surface. Of course.


    ¡°Why are you two not dead then? I killed you.¡± I bounce my single eye between him and Louise.


    ¡°Aw, man, did you forget again?¡± Evan laughs. ¡°What, did you just scroll back through the last few hours without getting the full story?¡±


    ¡°No. I saw it. Jeff saw it, too. Through the eye. I killed you. I killed you both. I saw you die.¡±


    Andrea steps forward. Her long, blonde hair floats in a cloud around her, accentuating the pure white of her spotless, gleaming armor. She¡¯s like some avenging warrior angel. She gestures, and a copy of Evan appears next to him.


    ¡°Brother!¡± The false Evan shouts. His voice is perfect. Then his head explodes backwards and the whole image disappears.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I marvel. ¡°That¡¯s amazing.¡±


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    ¡°Well, it was your plan,¡± Evan says. Andrea nods in confirmation.


    ¡°Really? I must be pretty smart then.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the warm voice next to me says. ¡°You are a very foolish man. You didn¡¯t listen to me, you made me think you had gone bad, and you scared me to death.¡±


    She manages to sound both angry and relieved at the same time. Who is she? I look down to see her face and my index pops. Lin. I love Lin. I¡¯m going to marry her one day.


    I cough, it¡¯s a dry, sad sound.


    ¡°Get this man some water,¡± Lin demands. In a moment, she¡¯s sitting me up and putting a bottle to my lips. It¡¯s the best thing I¡¯ve ever tasted. I sputter and cough again, then drink some more when she puts the bottle back up to my mouth.


    ¡°The failsafes,¡± I say. That¡¯s important. ¡°Sixteen of them. Cities along the river. I have the locations, and the code. We have to stop them again tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°We know,¡± Evan reassures me. ¡°Andrea got your messages. We¡¯ve got the Geologists on their way up the river already. They left right after they dug the shaft to get you. They should have them all taken care of soon.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± I say. I feel terribly tired for some reason.


    ¡°Noah, I¡¯m going to check you a little more,¡± Louise says. ¡°Is that all right?¡±


    I nod. Louise is good. I can trust Louise. She takes a seat on the ground next to me and opens a medbot box. Lin slips around behind me, her legs around me. She keeps me from falling back down. I feel Louise¡¯s bots tickling around my empty eye socket. Why is my eye socket empty? I can¡¯t even remember.


    ¡°Hmm, very rough work here,¡± she mutters. ¡°I hope you made him suffer for that one. A few more hours and you would have had a very nasty infection.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, shaking my head. ¡°He just went to sleep. He was so sad and alone. And so broken. Like me.¡±


    Louise motions another woman over. Her name pops in my console. Valerie. I know her. She rifles through a bag and does something with whatever she finds there, then lifts a fluff of whiteness to my face. I feel a sharp sting followed by a soothing sensation where my eye once was.


    Lin squeezes me harder from behind.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to close this whole thing up until we figure out a prosthetic,¡± Louse says. ¡°Lin said you had a stroke earlier?¡±


    That sounds familiar. I check back through my logs.


    ¡°Yeah. I think so. A burst arteriole anyway. I don¡¯t know where the line is between a stroke and an aneurysm. Primary motor cortex.¡±


    ¡°Slurred speech, I can hear that even with whatever you¡¯re doing with your bots in your jaw. Any paralysis?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t move my whole right side. Left side isn¡¯t doing great either, but at least I can still move some things over there.¡±


    ¡°Can I connect?¡± Louise asks, pulling a cable from her small pack.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I tell her, almost falling back onto Lin again. She keeps me up. She¡¯s so strong for her size.


    Louise does some fiddling with her bots, then calls Evan over to help her, something about a sealed port. Eventually between the two of them, she connects her appliance to my satchel. A glowing blue brain pops into the air between us.


    ¡°Hmm, yes.¡± Louise stares into the model intently. ¡°Looks like the implant did a good job of taking care of the aneurysm, but that hypoxia afterwards didn¡¯t do you any favors. I think we¡¯ll be able to reverse a lot of this, but I¡¯m going to need to bring Max in. I don¡¯t envy your next few months though. Sorry. Wish I had better news.¡±


    I sigh. Lin lays me back down. Is she crying?


    ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± I reassure her.


    ¡°I know,¡± she sniffs. ¡°I¡¯m just so happy you¡¯re alive. We¡¯re getting married tomorrow. Today, actually. We¡¯re way past midnight. We¡¯ll get some sleep first, but I¡¯m not waiting one more minute than I have to.¡±


    ¡°That sounds nice,¡± I say. I¡¯m so tired for some reason. ¡°Let¡¯s do that.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Louise says firmly. ¡°Doctor¡¯s orders on that one. We¡¯re waiting at least a week before anyone does anything else life-changing. And there¡¯s no way we¡¯re doing it without all the siblings and our grandparents there.¡±


    Another face comes into view. Valerie, my index tells me.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re getting married, we are too,¡± she says. I hear Evan shout something joyful behind her.


    ¡°We¡¯ll do a double wedding in a week then. I¡¯ll call Alan and start getting arrangements made,¡± Lin says, getting up and giving my hand a squeeze. ¡°Come on Valerie, let¡¯s plan this event.¡±


    The two women step away, chattering giddily.


    ¡°Have him get us a hotel for tonight while he¡¯s at it,¡± Evan says. ¡°I¡¯m exhausted.¡±


    ¡°I think we all are,¡± Louise adds. ¡°Food first though. I¡¯m starving.¡±


    My one eye closes without me telling it to. I¡¯m alive. I¡¯m back with my family, and they¡¯re alive too. I¡¯m even getting married to the woman of my dreams. I¡¯m so tired, but so very happy.

 Thu 10/24 10:01:09 PDT

    ¡°Come on, Noah,¡± Evan booms as he barges in. ¡°We¡¯re running late.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know.¡± I maneuver the big end of the tie through the loop and pull it into a knot. My tuxedo jacket floats across the room and waits in the air as I marionette my right arm into it. ¡°I¡¯m ready. Sorry. It takes longer to get dressed when I have to do it all with my cloud.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go then. You want me to carry you?¡±


    ¡°No. I can carry myself.¡±


    To prove the point, I lift myself a centimeter off the ground and hover over to the door where my massive brother waits for me. ¡°Do I look OK?¡±


    ¡°You look great. How¡¯s my tie?¡±


    With a tremendous effort I angle my head to get a clear look. ¡°It¡¯s good. On straight.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go get married.¡±


    Oh, yeah. That¡¯s what we were getting dressed up for. I glide silently along the hallway of the Residence behind the heavy footsteps of my brother. We pass a dozen faces and each one triggers a popup in front of me that I don¡¯t have time to read because I¡¯m still frantically trying to recapture the memories of myself that I just read an hour ago. Maybe if I condense them down even further I can keep up.


    The big double doors of the Residence open in front of us to reveal to my single eye the spectacle I¡¯ve been feeling build up all morning. The commons have been transformed into a wonderland of red and gold. Seats filled with family and friends of the Institute sit in perfect lines filling most of the verdant grass. The flood of additional text threatens to overwhelm me as my bots identify most of the attendees and crowd their information into my field of vision. The apparent officiant, someone I don¡¯t have an index entry for, stands at the front with an elaborate freestanding arch of red and white behind him.


    Music from a band off in one corner starts playing as we emerge. The crowd turns our direction and Evan nudges me to walk with him over to where the aisle through the seating begins. I glide along at his side.


    Is Evan finally getting married? That¡¯s great. I must be his best man or something, walking him down the aisle. Why am I lifting myself with my bots like this? Why don¡¯t my legs work right? I try to switch to walking but stumble as my right leg refuses to move the way it¡¯s supposed to. Evan reaches over and catches me before I fall, steadying me with a strong arm.


    ¡°He¡¯s OK, everyone,¡± he reassures the audience near where I almost fell. ¡°Still working on some motor functions.¡±


    We make it the rest of the way down the aisle without further incident and stand there while the band plays some more. Why am I not off to the side? I feel like the best man should be off to the side. I start to move but Evan puts a firm hand on my shoulder to keep me in place.


    ¡°It¡¯s your wedding too,¡± he says quietly. ¡°Stay put or Lin¡¯s going to think you¡¯re making a run for it.¡±


    Lin. That¡¯s right. I¡¯m going to marry Lin. How did I forget that?


    As if on cue, the doors to the Residence open again and the music changes to a dramatic fanfare.Two absolutely radiant beauties emerge, Lin in an elaborate red dress, the other woman in more traditional white. They make their way slowly to the start of the aisle and the band switches again to something more processional. Step after slow step the two women make their way toward us. Valerie. That¡¯s the other woman. I finally get around to reading the popup for her index entry. She¡¯s Evan¡¯s girlfriend.


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    They¡¯re walking so slowly. Why are they walking that way? And what is with the dresses they¡¯re wearing? They¡¯re so fancy, like they could be wedding dresses.


    I look around. What am I doing in front of all these people, and why am I wearing this fancy tuxedo? Two old people are sitting in the front row. I know them. I shuffle through the popups until I see entries for Grammy and Gramps. They¡¯re smiling. Grammy has a tear running down one cheek. Is she sad?


    The officiant is speaking. I turn to look at him. I feel like I must be missing some words but I have to catch up on my memory or I won¡¯t know what¡¯s going on.


    Evan and Valerie are facing each other now. They¡¯re getting married. More words go by that I can¡¯t catch because I have to read I have to read I have to read. And now they¡¯re kissing.


    Lin¡¯s cloud lifts me and turns me to face her as the officiant takes a step to the side so that the two of us are between him and the audience. One of my young siblings steps forward with a small red pillow with two rings on it. Wedding rings, right. I¡¯m marrying Lin. That¡¯s in my reading somewhere. I¡¯m supposed to do something with these golden bands. Or maybe just one of those.


    Lin¡¯s hands guide my left hand to take one of them and put it on her finger. Then she takes the other and puts it on me. I hear my name and my attention snaps to what the officiant is saying.


    ¡°Do you, Noah Kimball, take Liu Mei Lin to be your wife? To love and honor her in sickness and in health through all the days of your life until death do you part?¡±


    That¡¯s me. I¡¯m marrying Lin. I remember that now.


    I¡¯m supposed to talk now.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    Lin smiles her amazing smile at me.


    ¡°And do you, Liu Mei Lin, take Noah Kimball to be your husband? To love and honor him in sickness and in health through all the days of your life until death do you part?¡±


    ¡°I do!¡±


    ¡°Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I declare you man and wife. You may kiss each other.¡±


    And we do. And the world spins and I¡¯m so in love and now I¡¯m married and why is everything upside down and why is someone shouting and why is there suddenly only sky in front of me and who is this and I don¡¯t know you and what are you doing and why would I need a doctor when I¡¯m fine and I¡¯m just laying down here for a moment and then everything will be fine and where am I and who is she and who is he and why don¡¯t I know where I am and I feel the whole campus and it¡¯s part of me and the desert sand feels crunchy in my thousands of fingers and there should be more of me and I¡¯m too small and wait why do I only have one eye and I thought I had two and why does one arm move funny and the other arm doesn¡¯t move at all and I grow and then feel righter because the small meaty bit of me us just the part where the brain lives and my brain is mostly electronic and that¡¯s in my satchel and that¡¯s up in my room but it has enough range to reach here and that¡¯s good because I¡¯m reaching further into the desert and growing and why is Lin crying and who is that other girl in the wedding dress and why does she seem so sad and who is this huge man in a tuxedo just like mine that¡¯s kneeling next to me and why can¡¯t I remember anything and I start to read by the time it¡¯s done I¡¯m not lying on the grass anymore and I¡¯m on a bed but not my bed and Lin is next to me and holding my hand and I love her and she loves me and why is she still crying and who is this other girl who seems to know so much and this tall thin man who talks strangely like he¡¯s from far away and now where is the rest of me and why can I only feel this tiny bit of myself that doesn¡¯t even work and GIVE THEM BACK AND GIVE THEM BACK AND WHYCANTIFEELTHEMTHEYAREMEANDICANTEVENREMEMBERSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPWHATAREYOUDOING


    WHERE IS MY MEMORY!


    GIVEITBACK!


    GIVEITBACK!


    GIVEITBACK!


    GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK! GIVEITBACK!

 Sat 11/02 09:10:57 PDT

    ¡°How is he doing?¡±


    ¡°Better now. I think he¡¯s sleeping, but I honestly can¡¯t tell given how messed up he is right now. Restoring the console seems to have helped even if he can¡¯t read back more than the last few lines.¡±


    ¡°At least he¡¯s not screaming anymore.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know what to do about him though. He can¡¯t go on like this. His working memory is so short, none of what he used to do to compensate can work anymore.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he just goes through life without memories then.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be nice to just let all of it go? How would that be?¡±


    ¡°Might feel good sometimes, but not at this price.¡±


    ¡°Have you decided how you¡¯re going to vote on Lin¡¯s proposal?¡±


    ¡°After what she did? All the manipulation and then that stupid Omega protocol or whatever that she tried to pull?¡±


    ¡°She just wanted to keep him safe. I can understand that.¡±


    ¡°She could have cost us everything.¡±


    ¡°Well, do you have a better idea for what to do with Noah?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Keep him comfortable and see if we can come up with some way to reverse the damage?¡±


    ¡°Lock him up then? Because you know he won¡¯t stay put unless she¡¯s with him. He doesn¡¯t even know her name but he always starts trying to figure out who that missing girl is whenever he¡¯s conscious long enough. As soon as he¡¯s mobile the first thing he¡¯ll do is go looking for her.¡±


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    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. I just don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve read how he writes about it when he sees her every time.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯ve read the logs. And I¡¯ve seen the scans. Max says he doesn¡¯t think Noah is capable of ever feeling differently about her. The machinery that should let him update his emotional connections is completely wrecked. The way he felt about someone when we left China is pretty much how he¡¯s going to feel about them forever, when he can even manage to recognize them.¡±


    ¡°But think about it. It¡¯s like he¡¯s seeing her for the first time and it¡¯s total love at first sight. Can you imagine that? And he has the added bonus of her knowing him and loving him back. That¡¯s the part of all this that I actually envy.¡±


    ¡°You would, you big dumb romantic.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should get a little romance in your life.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I can once I finally get out here and go to med school. Meet some hot blonde doctor babe there or something.¡±


    ¡°Into blondes now, huh?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. I¡¯ve had exactly one crush and it lasted one dance back a million years ago at one of Marc¡¯s social dance things and I didn¡¯t even catch her name before she left.¡±


    ¡°A truly tragic end to your love life.¡±


    ¡°I hope not. Max says he knows some nice girls he can introduce me to. He wants me to go to Germany with him and finally meet his partner. The school there isn¡¯t bad either, though I¡¯m still leaning toward Johns Hopkins. I want to see if I can work on having a real relationship with my mother there.¡±


    ¡°So many choices. Like what to do with our brother once he finally wakes up for real.¡±


    ¡°I know, right? Well, I¡¯ll think about Lin¡¯s idea some more. I still don¡¯t have a better solution. I¡¯m definitely not going to be his lifelong babysitter, and I know you and Val think you need to hunt down all the loose ends with the CPP. That¡¯s going to be months or years of travel and danger and not exactly something you can haul him around on. So I don¡¯t know. Maybe we should saddle Lin with him. She¡¯s certainly eager to take on the burden. But Noah would have to agree once we can get him lucid and stable enough to actually make the choice.¡±


    ¡°You already know what he¡¯ll want.¡±


    ¡°I know. Idiot.¡±


    ¡°Me or him?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Now let¡¯s get out of here. He needs rest.¡±


    ¡°He rests better if Lin¡¯s in the room.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Let¡¯s just go.¡±


    Lin.


    That¡¯s such a nice name.


    I¡¯d like to meet someone with that name one day.

 Tues 11/05 17:08:19 PDT

    Something soft presses against me, a pleasant warmth against my arm.


    ¡°They say you¡¯re awake enough that you¡¯re recording things again, even though they won¡¯t let me connect to see.¡±


    The warmness shifts, and now it¡¯s pressed against one whole side of my body.


    ¡°Can you really hear me, love? I miss you so much.¡±


    A gentle touch caresses my chest.


    ¡°Come back to me. I love you. I¡¯ll take such good care of you. We¡¯ll do everything you ever wanted, go to all the places where you wanted to fix things, do that whole big plan you were always thinking about. I know you won¡¯t be able to remember it as we go, but we can still do it. We¡¯ll do it all. I just need you to wake up. Just come back to me.¡±


    The warm love feeling shakes and then stays silent for a long time. I feel wetness on my shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be here for you. Anything you ever want, I¡¯ll make sure you have it. You could even look at other girls, and I won¡¯t even care. I won¡¯t get mad at you. I promise.¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t do that. There¡¯s only one girl. I wish I could remember her name. Or what she looks like. She¡¯s beautiful, I think.


    ¡°Louise says you could wake up and talk any time. There¡¯s nothing holding you back. Talk to me, Noah. Tell me you love me as much as I love you. I love you.¡±


    More wetness. More silence.


    ¡°This is too sad. Let¡¯s talk about something else. How was your day?¡±


    I like the way she talks. I should answer her.


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    ¡°My day was nice, except for the big part of it when they wouldn¡¯t let me be here with you. I finally took that disk drive downstairs to my cluster. You don¡¯t even remember what I¡¯m talking about, but I figured that was why you brought it up from Jeff¡¯s secret underground base. You wanted me to have it.¡±


    She¡¯s right, I don¡¯t have any idea what she¡¯s talking about. I wish I could remember anything.


    ¡°Anyway, I isolated a server and plugged it in to see what was on it. It was that original nanobot software, the one your brother stole. You knew that when you took it, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Nanobots. Those sound familiar. I should have those. They¡¯re supposed to be part of me, but they¡¯re not. Why am I so small?


    ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m not sure what to do with it now. You probably had some clever plan in mind when you took it, because you¡¯re so brilliant and wonderful. And handsome.¡±


    Fingers run through my hair, and I feel hot breath on my cheek and then a kiss. I like that. Do more of that.


    But she doesn¡¯t.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe I¡¯ll isolate my whole cluster and replicate the software on every node like that company datacenter of yours does. Let them talk to each other and see if the intelligence emerges again. But with this one we could let it think of whatever it wants to think of. Let it be free. Or as free as it can be.¡±


    The warmth shifts and now my arm is colder.


    ¡°Who knows? Maybe we can let it go out in the universe one day, let it search the stars like it was always meant to. That could work. Let the humans have the planets, let the bots have the rest. We could work together. It could be the next step after you finally finish your great plan to save the world.¡±


    The warm softness returns, pressing close against me. That¡¯s better.


    ¡°But you need to wake up. I need you.¡±


    A hand grips mine and squeezes.


    I squeeze back.


    ¡°I felt that! You really can hear me, can¡¯t you? Louise wasn¡¯t just telling me that to shut me up.¡±


    The hot breath on my cheek comes again, and then wetness and kisses cover my face. It¡¯s so nice.


    ¡°Come back to me, Noah. I love you.¡±


    My mouth moves. My lips part. ¡°Love. You.¡±


    The warm softness squeezes me, then shifts, then disappears. Where did she go? I liked that. Come back.


    ¡°He¡¯s awake! He¡¯s talking! Louise, Max, come here! He¡¯s awake!¡±

 Fri 11/08 15:53:27 PST

    ¡°President Campos sent these,¡± Grammy says over the top of a huge basket overflowing with brightly colored fruits of all shapes and sizes. Some of them I recognize, a whole bunch I don¡¯t.


    Campos. I should know that name. Let me look it up. Wait, why can¡¯t I look it up?


    ¡°The president elect of Brazil, dear,¡± Grammy says, setting the basket down on the table next to all the flower arrangements. ¡°You know him. He says he¡¯s a friend of yours and he wishes you well and a swift recovery. And that he¡¯s looking forward to seeing you when you are well enough to come down and keep your promises to him. Whatever those are.¡±


    ¡°Tell him thanks, please.¡±


    I try to get up, but for some reason half of my body just won¡¯t cooperate. I reach out to my bigger self but it¡¯s gone. Where is the not fleshy part of me?


    ¡°Hey, Grammy,¡± I say before she leaves. ¡°Can you find someone to get the rest of me back? I¡¯m missing something.¡±


    ¡°I know, love.¡± A different voice is talking. I look around and see a dark-haired girl sitting next to the bed. She¡¯s so beautiful. Those eyes that I could fall into forever. Where did she come from? Was she there the whole time? I feel like I should know her.


    ¡°Louise and Max said you still need some time off from your cloud if you ever want to walk again,¡± the pretty girl continues. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just for a few weeks.¡±


    ¡°Get better soon, dear,¡± Grammy says sadly. She gives my toes a friendly squeeze through the blanket and walks out the door.


    I turn to the girl. I feel like I should talk to her. She called me love. Does she know me?


    ¡°Hi. You look so familiar.¡±


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m Lin. I¡¯m your wife.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that sounds right. I married really well then. You¡¯re beautiful.¡±


    She laughs. I like the sound of her laugh. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and then an old man comes into the room through the open door.


    ¡°Hey, champ,¡± he says, taking a seat on the bed near my legs. ¡°How you holding up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing well, I think.¡±


    ¡°This is Gramps,¡± Lin reminds me. ¡°Your grandfather.¡±


    That¡¯s right. I know Gramps. I smell the smoky odor of his clothes. He makes food that I like. Gramps looks over at the beautiful girl and his expression confuses me. Is it gratitude? Anger? Something else? I try to read his vitals but can¡¯t feel his pulse or tell how dilated his pupils are. That part of me is gone.


    His smell means something. ¡°Is it a barbecue day?¡±


    He smiles. I can read that. ¡°It sure is, Noah. Brisket for everyone tonight.¡±


    ¡°That sounds good.¡±


    ¡°Any progress?¡± He directs the question to Lin.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she says. ¡°He moved his fingers on his right hand this morning. Just a little, but I think the physical therapy is working.¡±


    Her face is easy to read, beaming with hope. She¡¯s so pretty. She¡¯s my wife? I¡¯m such a lucky man.


    ¡°Well, you hang in there,¡± Gramps says to me. ¡°I want to see you out at the lanes soon.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I say. ¡°The lanes.¡±


    The streets? I don¡¯t know where those are, but the way he says it makes them sound like a good thing.


    ¡°He means bowling, love,¡± Lin prompts. That¡¯s right. I like to bowl. I¡¯m pretty good at it. Well, I was good at it. Probably not just now though.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be up and around in no time,¡± Gramps says. ¡°I know it.¡±


    His smile looks just a little wrong. Like he¡¯s forcing it. Why can¡¯t I read his vitals? I¡¯m missing something.


    ¡°That sounds good.¡± I hope he¡¯s right.


    He leaves, but keeps the door open behind him. I wonder if someone else will come. It feels like people keep coming, but I can¡¯t remember anyone before Gramps. Hey, look at all that fruit. Where did that come from?


    Before the next person comes, I turn to the girl holding my hand. What was her name?


    Lin.


    That¡¯s right. She¡¯s my wife.


    ¡°Hey, I need to pee. Sorry. Is that awkward? I don¡¯t think I can get there on my own.¡±


    ¡°No, not at all,¡± she says, getting up and closing the door to the room. ¡°I¡¯ll help you up.¡±


    She waves a hand and an invisible force lifts me from the bed and sets me gently on my feet. The bathroom door is just a few feet away. Lin takes my right arm. One leg is working well. The other one doesn¡¯t seem to know that I¡¯m telling it to go.


    ¡°Go ahead, take a step.¡±


    That invisible force holds my right leg in place and I take a cautious step with my good leg. Once my good foot is planted, the bad leg moves all on its own and plants firmly again. It feels so weird. I take another step with my good leg.


    ¡°Want me to come in with you this time?¡± Lin offers as we repeat the step and help and step.


    I turn my head and look at her. Something about the gleam in her eye makes me think that she has something beyond just helping me to the toilet in mind. Maybe I¡¯m just reading too much into it. No, she¡¯s looking me up and down like she¡¯s hungry. She definitely wants me. Man, I am really lucky. The idea sounds very nice, but I hear quiet voices and footsteps in the hallway. I think someone else wants to come in. I should just hurry and see who wants to visit next.


    ¡°That sounds nice, but no. Just help me get there for now. Maybe a little later.¡±


    ¡°Later. I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡± She smiles at me with an impish grin. She¡¯s so cute.


    A few agonizing steps with her invisible help later and I can drain my bladder. At least everything down there seems to be working right. I lean and hop and pull myself to the sink as Lin watches from the bathroom door, her hands ready to do her magic that keeps me up. Someone put bars all around in the bathroom that make getting around a little easier, even if it¡¯s hard to use them with only one hand working. I get washed up and then Lin takes a towel and dries off the water. The eye patch in the mirror makes me look pretty good, like a pirate or something, but I think that¡¯s supposed to go away sometime soon. I can¡¯t remember when.


    ¡°A little help getting back?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Try moving that leg,¡± she suggests, pointing to the bad one and taking a few steps back. ¡°Louise says you should be able to if you keep working at it.¡±


    I don¡¯t know who Louise is, but she¡¯s wrong. The leg stubbornly refuses to do anything for me.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I finally admit. Why am I so tired from doing nothing?


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll give you a free pass on a few steps,¡± she says. Something lifts me up and sets me down next to her. She holds my arm and makes me walk back to the bed where her magic hands lift me up and I collapse, exhausted. For some reason the bed is sitting up now. When did I get a sitting up bed? Was that like that when I got up? I can¡¯t remember. Doesn¡¯t matter, I guess. I settle back in comfortably as the force that had lifted me disappears.


    A huge, brown man comes in next. A small, bronze woman is right behind him. Their names are right on the tip of my tongue. I know them. I do.


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    ¡°Hey, you two,¡± I say. It¡¯s the best I can do. Their names just won¡¯t come to me.


    ¡°Hey, brother.¡± His voice is so familiar. ¡°We just wanted to say goodbye before we go. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll be back in a couple of weeks.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Our working honeymoon in New Orleans, remember?¡± He looks at me, then looks away quickly like he¡¯s embarrassed. ¡°Sorry. Need to choose my words better. Anyway, we wanted to make sure you were OK before we left. Louise says you¡¯re fully out of the woods now, though, so we¡¯re going. Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll be back in a couple of weeks. I bet you¡¯ll be up and around by then.¡±


    Louise again. I feel like people keep saying that name. She must be important.


    ¡°Just keep up the hard work on your physical therapy,¡± the woman says. ¡°That¡¯s the important thing for you now.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Will do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be meeting with General Whitman,¡± the big guy says. ¡°So don¡¯t worry about a thing for that. He understands that you¡¯re not up for a debrief with him right now. But he told me to make sure that I thanked you for your discretion. You won¡¯t know what that means, but it¡¯s good for us.¡±


    I don¡¯t even know who that is or why I would need to talk to him.


    ¡°Good?¡± I say hesitantly.


    ¡°It really is. By the time we¡¯re done, they¡¯ll probably be pinning some medals on you. And we think with what he knows we¡¯ll be able to track down and take out most of the CPP.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what that means, but he smiles and I feel reassured. I like his smile. It makes me feel like I have a friend. Whatever he¡¯s doing, I hope it works out.


    ¡°Lin, you take good care of him,¡± the woman says. ¡°Don¡¯t let him slack off, even though it¡¯s going to be hard.¡±


    ¡°You got it, sister,¡± Lin says. Weird. They don¡¯t look like they¡¯re related. ¡°We¡¯ll get him back up and running.¡±


    ¡°Sisters!¡± the other woman says and they both squeal and giggle. Must be some kind of inside joke. It¡¯s probably more funny if you know something I don¡¯t remember.


    ¡°All right, enough of that,¡± the man says, smiling. ¡°We need to go rebuild a city. Maybe make it hurricane proof while we¡¯re there. We¡¯ll see you when we get back.¡±


    They both come over to the bed and give me big hugs before they go. They seem so familiar. Why don¡¯t I remember who they are?


    ¡°Evan and Valerie,¡± Lin says, seeing the look on my face.


    ¡°That¡¯s right! I know them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, love. You do.¡±


    Another pair comes up and knocks at the open door. This time it¡¯s a tall, thin man with small round spectacles and a different petite young woman. Her hair is dark and looks kind of like Lin¡¯s, but a little longer. She looks very tired, but smiles at me anyway when she sees me.


    ¡°How¡¯s he doing?¡± the woman asks Lin.


    ¡°Better today,¡± she answers. ¡°He¡¯s been awake for hours.¡±


    ¡°Good. I think we¡¯ve finally got the balance right on how much of his console we let him access.¡±


    ¡°I think we did, Louise,¡± Lin says hopefully.


    Oh. So this is Louise. Good to know. Something makes me think she¡¯s important somehow, but I¡¯m not sure why.


    ¡°Any other issues today?¡±


    ¡°No. He¡¯s been nice and calm,¡± Lin tells her. ¡°Happy, even. Almost like his old self sometimes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that.¡±


    ¡°Is he really going to be able to walk again? I¡¯m trying to stay hopeful, but I want answers if you have them.¡±


    ¡°We think so,¡± the bespectacled man says. His voice is funny. Not like laughing funny. Different. Like he comes from somewhere else. ¡°The regimen that we initially prescribed was a good start. It is such an interesting case. The intense stimulation performed by the implanted nanobots in his cortex accelerates his natural neuroplasticity to unbelievable levels. Adaptations that would take a normal mind months or years, his mind accomplished in hours. He essentially made himself into a specialized machine, a perfect interface to his nanobot cloud. The cells that had directed the motor functions for the right side of his body were disrupted by his aneurysm at a critical juncture. The implant was able to repair the tissue damage, but the affected cells were essentially recruited into enhancing his interface with the implant. We think that in this case the same neuroplasticity can take effect in reverse, but it will take time and effort. And the will must be there. He must desire to walk and move as intently as he desired a more powerful interface to his nanobot cloud.¡±


    ¡°And not just desire,¡± Louise adds. ¡°He has to practice, and he needs the motor cortex stimulated while he does it. Here, Max and I rigged this up. Let¡¯s call it a late wedding present.¡±


    Max. He must be the tall man. Louise hands Lin a small box with a touchscreen display.


    ¡°This connects with his implant and will let you control the stimulation of the relevant lobes in his brain,¡± she continues. ¡°It should be a light enough signal that it shouldn¡¯t do much more than encourage his brain to remodel itself. Turn it on while he¡¯s working with the physical therapist, or when you¡¯re doing anything that has him trying to move. Turn it off when you¡¯re done. If you need me to come help work it with him, or if he has any issues, just come grab me from the lab any time. We¡¯ll try this for a couple of weeks. If he makes progress, we can modify his implant to do it automatically. Until then, like we talked about, no bots for him. If we¡¯re lucky, one day he might regain most of what used to be able to do. Physically at least.¡±


    ¡°Got it. Thank you,¡± Lin says. Why is her smile so sad? That didn¡¯t sound that bad.


    ¡°Can I have a moment alone with him?¡± Louise asks.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lin says. She and the tall man, Max, step out of the room and close the door.


    ¡°Hey, Noah,¡± Louise says, addressing me directly for the first time.


    ¡°Hey, Louise,¡± I say. I know her name.


    ¡°You have a decision to make. You still may not be in the right place to make it, but I think this is as close to it as you¡¯re going to be any time soon and I want it to come from you. Max and I don¡¯t think your memory is going to get better. We can work with the paralysis, but the remodeling that you¡¯ve been doing to yourself for as long as you¡¯ve had the implant is too deeply ingrained. It can¡¯t just be undone with the same kind of therapy we¡¯re doing for your body. We don¡¯t have a good way to reconnect your ability to create and access memories, even with stimulation. The memory system is just too complicated.¡±


    She takes a seat on the bed and takes my hand. It¡¯s not like when Lin holds my hand, but it¡¯s still nice.


    ¡°Max and I have been consulting with the best doctors in the field, working on a solution for you. But there¡¯s just not a lot of usable research in the area. You¡¯re kind of a unique case. Your sensory and working memories seem fine, and your procedural memory seems to never have been impacted much. Your episodic memory seems most heavily affected, though your semantic memory shows some effects. We can try a few things, but I wouldn¡¯t plan on being able to ever remember more than the last half hour of your life.¡±


    I nod. That sounds about right, even though the meanings of most of those terms slip away from me. I feel like I should remember all of those, but everything but the last little while is just gone.


    ¡°Fortunately, you seem to be at least somewhat functional within those constraints. Like I told Lin, your body should be able to recover. There¡¯s no reason you couldn¡¯t still have a long and fulfilling life, as long as you¡¯re willing to make some changes. The crutches you¡¯ve been using to replace your memory just won¡¯t work anymore. You can¡¯t just read in your history and pretend like you know things anymore. There¡¯s too much to know and you lose it too fast. Your index triggers only made things worse. More to read, more to catch up on, and you just can¡¯t. You forget the start before you get anywhere near the end.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been missing,¡± I say, almost able to understand what she¡¯s talking about. ¡°I used to have something that helped me remember everything.¡±


    ¡°You did. And it worked for a long time. But you pushed yourself too far. Your brain changed too much. It¡¯s not going to work anymore.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s the decision I need to make?¡±


    ¡°If you want to be at all functional going forward, you need to stop trying to catch up and keep up. You need to accept that you just won¡¯t remember things. And you need help. Human help. Someone willing to be right by your side almost all the time.¡±


    I nod. She¡¯s right. I obviously can¡¯t do this on my own.


    ¡°And it turns out that you¡¯ve got someone who¡¯s willing to be your memory for you. We¡¯ve been trying out having Lin do that for you this week, and she told me she¡¯s happy to do it for the rest of your lives. You seem to like the whole setup, am I right?¡±


    ¡°Having Lin here helping me? Yes. I like that.¡±


    ¡°Good. Because she¡¯s already canceled her college plans. She says that you are more important. If you can both live with that, I think it could be viable. ¡±


    ¡°If Lin said she¡¯ll do it, then let¡¯s do it. I really like her. Like, a lot.¡±


    Louise smiles, but still looks serious.


    ¡°Then there¡¯s one more thing. We all think that she¡¯d need direct access for this all to work long term. Evan has come up with an encryption scheme that we think is secure enough over a wireless link using some custom hardware for Lin¡¯s contact interface, so you won¡¯t need to be hardwired in. You won¡¯t have to do a thing other than what you seem to be doing automatically. That should make it easier for her to take care of you. I don¡¯t see this being sustainable any other way. But you¡¯d never have privacy again. She¡¯ll have a window right into your vitals and what you¡¯re thinking all the time. And if you¡¯re worried she might change things like she did before, don¡¯t. Since you won¡¯t be reading in your past anymore, it wouldn¡¯t matter anyway.¡±


    I don¡¯t understand what that last part means, but I don¡¯t really care. ¡°Of course. I don¡¯t want to have any secrets from Lin. I love her.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say without hesitation. This feels very right. ¡°Do it.¡±


    ¡°OK then. I¡¯ll check back in with you every once in a while and make sure you¡¯re still happy with the arrangement, but otherwise I¡¯m going to hand you off to your wife.¡±


    ¡°Wife. That¡¯s right. I married Lin.¡±


    ¡°You are a good man, Noah,¡± she tells me as she gets up. ¡°I hope you¡¯re making the right choice. I hope that the two of you stay very happy together.¡±


    She leaves and Lin returns, closing the door behind her.


    ¡°Do you really love me?¡± I ask her.


    ¡°You know I do,¡± she responds, taking a seat by the bed again and holding my hand. That¡¯s the hand that feels right. The fingers on my other hand twitch just a little.


    ¡°And you won¡¯t get sick of me? No matter how much I forget? Even if I¡¯m broken?¡±


    ¡°I knew what I was getting into when we got married. And I knew when I volunteered to take care of you. I¡¯ve never known you fully whole, and I¡¯ve loved your broken self almost as long as I¡¯ve known you. We¡¯re all broken. It doesn¡¯t matter. I still love you. I always will.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I tell her. ¡°I trust you with everything.¡±


    ¡°As you should,¡± she says, getting back up. ¡°Now come on. I¡¯ve sent away all your other well-wishers for the afternoon. You, my husband, are due for a shower.¡±

 UNKNOWN DATE UNKNOWN TIME

    ¡°Hello, Noah. I¡¯m your wife, Lin, and this is your daughter, Song. We¡¯re saving the world again today by providing clean water and power to Europe and Africa.¡±


    I look up from my empty breakfast plate and see a beautiful, dark-haired woman holding a small child by the hand. A wife and daughter? That¡¯s nice.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Lin says. ¡°It¡¯s time to get to work.¡±


    I get to my feet unsteadily. One of my legs is weaker than the other. Lin takes my arm and helps me as I walk across the hotel lobby. I think I could do it on my own if I needed to, but I like the feel of her against me. Song¡¯s little feet hurry to keep up as we leave the hotel.


    ¡°Water and power. That sounds right. What¡¯s the project today?¡± I ask Lin as she helps me walk the short distance between the hotel doors and the car. The shade of the building covers us, but the bright morning sun is already heating up the sand outside the parking lot.


    ¡°We¡¯re still working our way across the Sahara,¡± she reminds me. I like that she does my remembering for me. It makes life so simple. ¡°Desalinators and solar fields. I already laid out the guidelines for your eye while you and Song were playing this morning. Evan and Valerie already installed the pipes that go out to the ocean, so we just need to connect up to them as we go.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, smiling at her. ¡°You¡¯re so good to me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you forget it.¡± She winks at me.


    ¡°Can I go with you and Daddy all day today?¡± Song asks.


    ¡°Just until after lunch,¡± Lin says. Then we¡¯re going to meet with Andrea and Louise who are going to take you to play at Aunt Keeya and Aunt Lucie¡¯s house until this weekend.¡±


    ¡°And Chad will be there?¡± Her eyes widen in delight.


    ¡°And Chad will be there,¡± Lin confirms.


    I don¡¯t know who any of those people are, but that¡¯s all right. Lin will tell me what I need to know when I need to know it. Lin gets Song buckled in her car seat while I reach out with my larger self and do what I was made for. I see guidelines with my hundred eyes and build the first huge desalinator according to the blueprints that appear in front of me. I feel the cool, clear water begin to pump out onto the desert sand as I finalize the hundreds of solar panels required to power the installation.


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    ¡°Oh, is the first one done already?¡± Lin asks as she pulls the car out of the hotel parking lot and starts driving along the smooth new roadway.


    ¡°Yeah, I got it.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, faster than yesterday,¡± she notes, flickering the fingers of one hand across her lap. ¡°We¡¯ll need to have Louise look at your scans when we see her, but I think that¡¯s still within normal variations.¡±


    My human eye shows me sand as far off as it can see. My better eye shows me the next set of guidelines kilometers down the road. All power production on this build. Even my biological eye can see the storm of dust that kicks up off to our left as I transform square kilometers of desert sand into all the power production and storage that the world will ever need and connect them to the waiting power lines heading off in the distance to the north.


    ¡°Daddy, are you making a mess again?¡± Song laughs as she sees the dust blowing over to blot out the morning sun ahead of us.


    ¡°Yes, sweetie. A big mess. Don¡¯t tell Mommy.¡±


    Lin snorts to keep from laughing and puts her hand over onto my thigh. I force my right arm to move my hand to put it on hers. Moving that arm is harder than the other, but Lin always says I need to do it whenever I can. She puts on some music and we listen to a few songs as we drive and I build. My strong eye shows me what to create and where to put it. Another water plant is next. This one is very near the road, so we¡¯ll pass right next to it. I lose myself in the work of building as it rises from the desert sand.


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s a big one,¡± a sweet voice from the back seat says, full of wonder. I turn the small, fleshy part of me to see who said it. A little girl with dark hair is sitting there, buckled into a carseat in the back, smiling at me.


    ¡°Hello, who are you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Daddy. You¡¯re so silly,¡± she laughs. I love that laugh.


    The beautiful, curvaceous woman with long, dark hair sitting next to me gives me a stunning smile. Her eyes are perfect pools of darkness I just want to get lost in. How am I holding her hand? I should get to know her first. I really want to get to know her.


    ¡°Hello, Noah. I¡¯m your wife, Lin, and this is your daughter, Song. We¡¯re saving the world again today by providing clean water and power to Europe and Africa. Keep on building. You¡¯re doing great. Lunch will be in about an hour. We¡¯re going to meet up with Andrea and Louise. You like them.¡±


    Oh. My wife. That¡¯s why I¡¯m holding her hand. I nod and smile. I like all of that. It feels so right. I keep on building what my strong eye tells me needs to be built. I feel the desert beneath me. I am spread out across it for kilometers and kilometers. I know every grain of sand. I think that there might be others that can feel and build this way, but I do this better than anyone. It¡¯s what I¡¯m made for.


    I get back to work. This world isn¡¯t going to save itself.

 Authors Note

    And with that, the story of Noah and the Butler Institute is done. I really hope you''ve enjoyed this trilogy. It''s been the work of so many nights and weekends over the last six years for me. Thank you all for coming along the ride with me as I''ve published this on RoyalRoad. Your support and comments have meant the world to me.


    If you enjoyed the books and haven''t yet left any feedback yet, I would beg you to please leave a rating or review, and even more importantly, tell a friend so they can enjoy it too. All three books will be available soon at the major retailer for those that prefer paper or ebooks (the first one is already out), but I don''t have any plans to remove or stub them out from here, so anyone willing to read on RR can get them free just like you have.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Thank you one more time for reading. You are all amazing!