“This is boring,” Happy whispered to Honey.
She patted his head and nodded sympathetically.
“It’s better than where we’d normally be,” said Hawk.
Happy shrugged an unenthusiastic concession and allowed his eyes to drift toward the ceiling. Gradually the scenery changed from scrubby bushes and red rock to dry grass and mixed conifers. They climbed in elevation, and the conifers became pine trees. Mountain peaks stood tall around them as they rode into Flagstaff, Arizona. The nice couple dropped them off at the local university, which was sparsely populated thanks in part to the season, but mostly to the holiday itself.
Hummer picked up a flyer from the ground. “Fireworks at the football stadium tonight,” he said gleefully. “Thank you, Lumberjacks.”
“That’s still a few hours away,” said Hawk. “Let’s track down the library first.”
“Let’s track down some food first,” Honey interjected. “I’m starving. And we need to find a place to sleep tonight, while we’re at it.”
“Maybe they have some empty dorms,” said Hummer.
“Maybe we’ll be lucky if we can find anyone to ask,” Hawk replied dryly.
His cynicism was well founded. Most of the university services were closed for the holiday, including the library and the student union building. Given that it was the fourth of July and that Flagstaff was a much cooler option to the hot weather further south in the state, most of the hotels in the immediate area were full. It took a couple hours for them to locate an available room, and even longer to discover just the right person to rent it for them. They had no inebriated masses to choose from as they had in Las Vegas.
In the end, Hawk and Honey simply bribed someone while Happy hid with Hummer behind a large planter. The man looked shifty, but they didn’t have a lot of choice when it came to character. Anyone honest would report them the instant that Honey’s projection wore off. Shifty people had no reason to make unsolicited contact with the police.
The sheer number of people around made Hawk nervous. Surely someone would notice their presence and tell the authorities about them. He was more than relieved when they finally retreated to the solitude of their little hotel room.
“I’m not so sure that fireworks are a good idea,” he said as he locked the door behind them.
Hummer’s face fell. He had a dear love for anything that exploded, and it had been years since they had seen fireworks. The powers-that-be at Prometheus saw no cause to honor Independence Day with any such outlandish displays.
“Maybe we could watch outside the stadium,” he suggested. “Fireworks generally don’t require a ticket for viewing.” Hawk hesitated, but Hummer pressed the subject. “Don’t you think we should celebrate our independence? And what better way than by observing a good old American tradition of fireworks? Happy wants to see them, don’t you, Happy?”
The six-year-old arched his brows curiously.
Hummer swept his hands in a wide arc. “Big, fiery rockets that explode in the sky with a boom.”
It was a lost battle from there.
“Fine,” said Hawk, “but we’re not going inside the stadium, and we’re going to keep as low a profile as we can.” No one argued with him, thankfully.
He picked up the remote and turned on the television. Like every law-abiding business, the hotel had the station automatically tuned to NPNN, and the picture on the screen was of a familiar face. “Hey,” said Hawk sarcastically, “it looks like they’re offering a reward for any information about you, Maddie.”
“Aw,” Honey replied with false sweetness, “I’m sure it would be twice as much if they were trying to get information about you, Jeffy.”
Hummer snorted.
“Something funny, Franky?” Hawk asked.
This time it was Honey who snorted, while the two older boys lightly shoved one another back and forth.
Happy’s solemn voice interrupted the teasing. “Does that make me Washy?” he asked with a studious frown.
“You’re Alex,” said Honey. “They said so on the news.”
“Maybe just Wash,” Hawk said. “Man, Mom and Dad gave us some weird names.”
“All the more reason we should celebrate Independence Day,” said Hummer. “We have to honor our namesakes.”
“I’m sure they’d be very proud of how their sacrifice has panned out,” Hawk said with a sarcastic tip of his head. “I’m pretty sure Jefferson would love the idea of children being taken from their families and raised by a government institution.”
“Pretty sure,” Hummer agreed. “Madison would be thrilled about how the Constitution has become nothing more than a flimsy, meaningless piece of paper.”
“I guess the best way to honor them would be to destroy the system that corrupted their ideal,” said Honey, and the speculative glint in her eyes was more serious than joking.
Hawk and Hummer exchanged a glance while Happy looked on with his usual stoicism. “That’s a little above our abilities right now,” said Hawk. “I think we’ll have to settle for fireworks tonight and a little research into subversive organizations tomorrow.”
Article III, Section 1
Pick a Better Brain
July 4, 3:47pm pdt, GCA Regional Office, Las Vegas
Emily hung up her cell phone, a frown etched deep upon her face. She had fully expected a machine to answer her call, but somehow, even though Independence Day was a federally mandated holiday, not only this branch of the GCA was operating in full swing, but Prometheus-A had been fully staffed. Emily’s call to the administrative receptionist had been answered by a person instead of the anticipated machine, and that person had immediately transferred the call directly to Genevieve Jones.
Of course it made sense for the principal of a boarding school to be on campus over holidays, since students would be there as well, but did it make sense for the principal to be working in her office? Or perhaps the call had been forwarded directly to a personal cell, and Principal Jones was actually at home.
Every government office and agency she had ever encountered before shut down completely for federal holidays, many of which commemorated events that were much more ridiculously obscure than the fourth of July’s celebration. If Prometheus didn’t take off Independence Day, did it also remain open on Memorial Day, Veteran’s Day, Thanksgiving, et cetera? And if so, did they expect Emily to work every holiday for the next two years?
That was the ultimate source of her consternation, that she might have signed away all of her free time. If she’d taken an internship with the public school system, she would have had more free time than she knew how to occupy.
Genevieve Jones had been curt on the other end of the phone. She accepted Emily’s report on Oliver’s progress—a report that Emily would much rather have made to an answering machine, as it didn’t ask probing questions in return. She had been concerned only with Oliver’s welfare, and when Emily had started to steer the conversation down another avenue (mainly, whether she would receive any specific training materials or traveling stipends), Ms. Jones had promptly ended the call by saying that she was needed elsewhere, and that she was confident Emily would do a fine job.
Emily was pretty sure that if the Prometheus Institute could invent robots to fill their needs for “child-life counselors,” they’d do it.
Her attention slid over to the table, where Oliver worked on his school assignments. She had intentionally made the call where he could eavesdrop. He was too smart not to figure out what she was doing, so there was no point in trying to keep any secrets from him.
“How’s the homework coming?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said.
Emily sighed. “It’s too bad that you have to do it today. The fourth of July should be spent eating ice cream and watching fireworks—although I guess the fireworks don’t come until after dark, so we could probably still do that.”
He lifted his gaze from his digi-port screen, his customary scowl furrowing between his brows. �
��Prometheus doesn’t observe the fourth of July,” he said. “Why should we?”
Emily’s mouth opened and shut with an audible click. “Well…” She floundered for an appropriate answer and ended up stating the obvious. “Because it commemorates the founding of this country, that’s why.”
“The US is part of a global community now,” said Oliver negligently. “Wouldn’t it be better to celebrate the day our senate ratified the UN charter?”
“When was that?” Emily asked.
He shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. We just don’t celebrate the fourth of July at Prometheus, that’s all. Most holidays are just petty excuses for people not to have to work anyway.”
“Right,” said Emily. “So you’re saying that you haven’t celebrated the fourth of July since you came to the Prometheus Institute.”
Oliver blinked. “I’ve never celebrated it,” he said, as though she should have already known this. “You still haven’t read my file, have you?”
Her eyes rolled upward. “I’ve read parts. I didn’t realize they kept record of which holidays you’ve celebrated in your lifetime, though.”
“They don’t,” he said with a sneer. “I’ve never celebrated the fourth of July because I’ve been at Prometheus longer than I can remember. When I tell you that Prometheus doesn’t observe the holiday, you should automatically know that I’ve never observed it.”
Emily stared, for a moment not comprehending his words. Then, as their meaning sunk in, she swiftly dug into her messenger bag and snatched out his file. With an odd dread latching onto her heart, she flipped the file open and scanned his biographical statistics.
Sure enough, just beneath his birth date was a line that read “Date of Acquisition.” She did the mental math between the two dates and came to a startling answer.
“You were thirteen months old when you were enrolled in Prometheus? What were you, some kind of baby genius?”
“No, idiot,” said Oliver. “I tested positive for the required genetic marker, and my parents handed me over as soon as they possibly could. Prometheus won’t take infants under a year old, or I’d have been here from the beginning. Anyway, I was too young to remember any of it, so even if I did happen to attend some primitive little celebration that first year, it doesn’t count. And I doubt very much that I did anyway, since my parents probably didn’t care about stupid things like that.”
“Oliver,” said Emily, her voice trembling. “You don’t remember your parents at all?”
“I’ve told you before, I don’t care about them. Prometheus is the only parent I have, and the only one I need.”
“Then why were you so jealous of the West kids?”
His face contorted. “Me? Jealous? When?”
Emily wouldn’t be deceived, though. There was only one possible explanation for his tantrum the day before, and the detail he had gotten so hung up on had definitely been the circumstances under which Hawk, Hummer, Honey, and Happy had come to the Prometheus Institute. “Yesterday, when Quincy told you that their parents didn’t give them away,” she said, “you wouldn’t let it go. You even went and compared the signatures on their guardianship affidavits, and you hacked into the GCA video archives to see what had happened. Why else would you go so far?”
He transformed into a bristling, white-lipped pile of outrage. “Maybe because I’m trying to understand how they’re thinking. That is what I’ve been sent here to do, you know.”
“Were you sent to throw a temper tantrum about the whole thing?” Emily retorted.
For a long moment they glared at one another. This was one instance where she would not back down, though. Oliver might have been her intellectual superior, but emotionally and socially he was still a child, and he needed to face those immature feelings if he wanted to overcome them and progress into a healthy adulthood.
At long last, he gave in with a heavy, disgusted sigh. “It wasn’t enough that they had each other,” he said bitterly, “but they also have two younger siblings and parents that wanted to keep them? Give me a break. The one thing that all Prometheus students have in common is that they’re completely alone, that they have no one other than themselves to depend on. Hawk and Hummer broke that one rule because they had each other. Now they have a whole family. Was I angry? Of course. But it wasn’t jealousy. It makes me sick, how weak they are because of stupid emotional ties they’ve clung to. I mean, do you realize that they’ve all risked their necks to betray their one and only benefactor? And for what—to restore their precious family? Don’t make me vomit!”
The rancor of his words left Emily breathless and more than sorry for him. He might not want to associate his feelings with jealousy, but it was obvious that he, in contrast to the West children, was very much alone in the world, and that he felt that aloneness keenly.
Breeding a bunch of little sociopaths. Crystal’s words had been spot on after all. Prometheus did intentionally isolate its students, even while making certain that their physical needs were properly met.
“I can’t say I understand Hawk or Hummer,” said Emily quietly. “I’m not really close to my own parents, and I don’t have a brother or sister, so I don’t really understand why they would go to such lengths for their family, except that they are family. I mean, I’ve often felt like my parents had me for the sake of appearance, and I often felt like I was an inconvenience to them, but they’re still my parents. I don’t think I would abandon my schooling for them, but then, I’m not thirteen, or eleven, or nine, or six years old. Just because they have family doesn’t take anything away from you, though.”
Oliver scowled. “Who said it did?”
“No one said it. I just… I’m sorry that it makes you so angry, that’s all.”
He looked askance, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. At last he focused his attention on the digital screen on the table. “I have homework,” he muttered.
Emily let him return to his work. She didn’t fully understand her own feelings on the subject, so she didn’t want to prod him any further. It would be nice if he could find a mentor to look up to as a constant in his life, though. Surely the Institute could provide someone in its network.
They sat in silence for several minutes. Emily let her eyes wander across the pages of Oliver’s file without actually reading anything. Oliver shifted his attention between his digi-port and his text books, dutifully typing away at his school assignments.
The subdued atmosphere broke when a GCA agent tapped on the door and poked his head in. “We’d like to pick your brain a little, if that’s all right,” he said to Oliver. Even though his voice was courteous and the invitation seemed open-ended, the boy clearly had no choice but to acquiesce. He shut his text book and flipped the off-switch on his digi-port.
“Where?” he asked.
“Downstairs in the conference room,” said the man.
Emily immediately stood. Oliver shot a scornful glance at her. “You’re going down wearing that?”
She glanced down at the garish t-shirt he had bought her earlier in the day, truly a hideous piece of clothing. It paid homage to all the glitzy, corny shows for which Las Vegas was renowned. She’d changed into it out of sheer necessity. The only thing she liked about it was that it didn’t have any offending wrinkles or odors clinging to it.
“Proudly,” she said with feigned innocence. “You gave me this shirt, Oliver. I’m so happy to show it off to everyone.”
The agent goggled at her, his brows high. She brushed past him into the hallway. At least he’d acknowledged her existence, even if it was only because her shirt was so luridly eye-catching.
Oliver looked somewhat chagrinned as he followed, but Emily smiled a sunny smile at him, and his chagrin turned to disdain. “Idiot,” he muttered.
Together they descended to the glass-enclosed conference room on the main level of the office. There, several agents sat amid piles of papers and several bright-screened computers. Most looked tired, and a few seemed overl
y anxious. They had been working to track the West kids all day.
Oliver stood at the head of their table like a pint-sized administrator overlooking his troupe of underlings. “What can I help you with?”
A tidy young woman tipped her head to one side and observed him like a therapist starting a session. “If you were Hawk West, where would you go?”
One of Oliver’s nostrils lifted. “I’d never have left Prometheus to begin with if it were me,” he said. “Of course, I’m at Prom-A and Hawk was at Prom-F, so maybe that had something to do with it. You haven’t been able to find anything, have you? No paper trail, no surveillance footage?”
“Do you have any idea how many surveillance cameras there are in this city? And how many people?” asked one agent, a balding man who looked particularly harassed. “The algorithms have pulled hundreds of possible face-matches, but we don’t have the man-power here to look over all of it. We’ve already enlisted the local police for help, but today’s a holiday.”
“Even then, we don’t exactly have access to all the footage anyway,” said another man darkly. “It was all we could do to get some of the hotels to release their registry records—there’s no way they’ll just hand over their surveillance archives without a warrant, and no court is open to issue one today.”
“You won’t find Hawk West or any of his siblings on a hotel register,” Oliver said scornfully. “If it were me, I’d have had someone else rent the room and paid them back with cash.”
“Where would you have gotten the cash?” asked the first young woman. “I mean, these kids just escaped from Prometheus. How are they even able to survive in the real world?”
“I don’t know how I would get money,” said Oliver. “I do know that the Wests have the ability to get whatever they want, though. Between Honey and Happy, they’ll have people bending over backwards to help them. That much was evident in yesterday’s train station riot.”
A Boy Called Hawk (Annals of Altair Book 1) Page 15
