Daughter of Zeus

by Red Harvey

  She didn't even know what "that" was exactly. "Please, explain."

  His blue eyes darkened. "People aren't as unaware as you assume. I've watched you zap an interface, your car, the roaches in your kitchen."

  She dropped her head. Ordinarily, a driver doing that would cause the other passengers alarm, but the car had control. She could sleep if she wanted. Sleep was sounding more and more like the plan, anything to get away from the current conversation she'd begun. Now that she had, she had a feeling Kressick was going to keep on until she admitted her abilities, and she wasn't sure she could stop his assault. The way things started, she had only wanted to talk, not admit her entire life story.

  "You're crazy." She hoped she looked convincing. "And you're more powerful than even your mother probably knew."

  Along with Cybil's confession, his was the second confirmation that her mother knew of her powers. At home, confident and cocky, Ada had done little to hide her abilities, zapping everything she could, using her powers quite irresponsibly. Through all of it, she suspected her mother was using her for pillow talk with Kressick, but she was glad to know her mother kept some secrets.

  "She never told you though?"

  "No, I put it together on my own," he said.

  They went on for miles in silence before Ada noted, "The guy back there... I've only ever controlled machines, not people."

  She had pressed that guy's buttons, telling him where to walk and what to do. Overriding his free will and inserting hers was easy. The power scared her with the implications, but she pushed the fear aside. Her problem now was Kressick and his knowledge of her. She would have to seize the best moment to get rid of him.

  He said, "That's all people are, complex machines. We conduct electricity like anything else."

  Ada ignored him. For her, the conversation had ended with her last sentence.

  But she still listened. People...the equivalent of machines. Why hadn't she thought of it before? She made the clerk do what she wanted him to, as if he had become her puppet. She wanted him dead, to shoot himself, but at the last second, she changed her mind. Point-blank murder wasn't in her nature—yet.

  With her new ability, maybe she wouldn't have to do any actual killing. Countless times she had re-wired or re-booted a piece of tech, all with the flip of a switch in her head. Could she flip the switch on another human being? Re-wire them completely? Could her father do the same thing? Most likely, the man had mastered mind control. She would have to remember that when she met the bastard. Mind control.

  Re-writing a person's entire personality and basic functions to fit her parameters amounted to an unethical dangerous scenario. She couldn't wait to be pissed off enough to try it on the next ass-hole.

  ~ * ~

  Brontes Moretz would never consider himself an asshole. He was smart and knew the rest of the world likely viewed him through a skewed lens. Moretz only ever took the necessary course of action. Sometimes the necessary course got him called asshole, or his favorite: bastard.

  If he had to filter the acquisition of the nicknames down to a moment, he supposed it must have begun with the puppy. Like most ten-year-old boys, he had begged his parents to buy him a dog. After weeks of his wheedling tone, they gave in to his demand. The puppy had been cute, playful. And prone to pissing and shitting everywhere. Moretz's mother had told him to train the animal, to teach it when and where to make water, when to eat, and not to let it bite. He had assumed the task would be simple. The dog's low intelligence level had turned his optimism into impatience. The stupid thing wouldn't stop taking a crap under his bed. Every time he looked under his bed to find the puppy poppin' a squat, he saw red. He imagined hurting the dog, but his parents would find out. The humiliation of being discovered superseded the need to hurt, for a time.

  There were ways around getting caught, such as psychological torture. Balloons, vacuums, and other gadgets were part of his arsenal. The dog was frightened by a good many things, and with his help, it quickly became afraid of just about everything. Every yelp, howl, or set of flattened ears buoyed his boyish heart.

  Going from torturing dogs to torturing people came easy. He enjoyed manipulating others to the point of great emotional pain. His parents were the first human victims, but he wasn't satisfied. He moved on to hurting his friends, teachers, but strangers were best.

  Strangers came and went, which made getting caught lower of a possibility.

  People were complicated, messy, and too much work. Things proved less demanding with pain involved. He scaled his games back years ago, for fear that his subjects would catch on to his baser nature. They were stupid and believed him to be their friend. Never would it have crossed their minds he was gladly the source of their pain.

  Now, his life was different. He was a family man. The mask he wore hardly ever came down anymore. About twice a month, he requested his assistants set up a meeting for him. A new girl would be waiting for him at his condo. After a few drinks, he convinced her she was fat and dirty, never using those words. He had fun forcing her to think she had come up with the self-assessment and even more fun when they said so out loud.

  When he had her choking back tears and devoid of self- esteem, he fucked her ass raw. Vaginal sex was too intimate.

  After the festivities, she would leave his condo with a wet face, slumped shoulders, and a weird gait. Before she left, he bumped his wristlet to hers, transferring funds into her account. The generous amount paid services rendered—and silence. Moretz lived for those two days a month.

  Outside of the window to his study, he could see his son, Phennell, in the pool, splashing his sister, Darcy. Their mother, Chancelin, watched from her lounge chair, avoiding the water works to keep her hair in its shining condition. The sun glittered on the water. His wife's perfect form completed the picture. His family resembled an advertisement—too perfect to be real.

  He kept them in the dark about his extra-curriculars, but they knew he could be an asshole when it came to the business end of things. As long as he kept doing what he was doing, they would never have to fully know. His family could go on as they were. For their happiness, he would bear the mantle of asshole.

  He let his mind wander as he stared out the window. As she told her mother a story, Darcy held on to the edge of the pool. Chancelin looked mildly interested. Yet, for Moretz, Darcy's every word was golden. Every time she spoke, she was unaware she lit up with pleasure. Momentarily, he hardened. That's what the hookers are for, stupid. His career, his perfect life, continued on because of his discretion.

  A beeping from the clear desktop interface returned him to his work. His contact had sent another message. Moretz touched the video file icon. In it, a man pointed a gun from then at himself, looking frightened and confused. Confusion filled Moretz when the man ran himself face first into a plate glass window until he was knocked unconscious. Swiping his finger across the screen to replay the scene again and again, Moretz laughed until his laughter petered out to chuckles. At the bottom of the file in the comments section, his associate had typed, She made him do this.

  Fear mixed with elation flooded through Moretz. The powerful woman reminded him of his old life. Colorado and all of the dank, dirty living associated with it had been buried deep. Yet, the woman brought back bad memories. And good ones.

  She wanted to see him. His associate was bringing her straight to his office. Moretz watched the video one more time and promised himself not to end up like the man she played Pinocchio with. The only one playing the part of puppet would be her, and then the Sammies would leave him alone for good.

  ~*~

  On the next few stops, still shaken by their first encounter with interstate thugs, Ada was careful to visit guarded stations.

  Her fear and actions worked in tandem with Kressick's plans, and he played on her paranoia. He convinced her they should avoid staying overnight at hotels. They slept in the car, confident as the car drove itself. After a few days, he regretted his manipulations. H
is back was locked in the same position, and he craved a full meal, not pureed smoothies prepared and dispensed by the car.

  Ada seemed to experience cabin fever as well. Ignoring her looks and grumbles became harder and harder. As the second night approached, he saw yet another digital board alongside the highway projecting holographic images of the nearest hotel. Ada looked at them longingly. Ignoring the advertisements for food and lodging was difficult, as many of them were painted onto the road itself, each word and picture laid out one at a time in a vertically ascending line, like:

  Next Exit: Burgers and Rest Stop

  The car was programmed by Kressick not to stop, and so didn't take many exits. When they did stop, it was to re-charge the car battery. The last stop had been a mistake, so he asked Ada to remain in the car, and for once, she listened.

  He even suggested they stop at an interstate motel to rest for a night, and she agreed to that as well. Sitting and sleeping in a car did not make for a comfortable situation. Likewise, the pureed smoothies prepared by the car's interface quickly bored his palette, and Ada must have agreed, from the grimace on her face as she sipped on her latest meal.

  Kressick programmed the car to self-guide and park at the nearest hotel.

  The fact that she let him decide small factors of the trip did not go unnoticed.

  He counted on her continued compliance.

  Nine

  Shylar Mullens chose his path, and he thought himself to be a lucky prig.

  Interstate motels could be as dangerous as any way station, guards or no guards. A hotel had too many rooms, too many comings and goings for a few State guards to keep under control. Fine by him. The occasional theft, rape, or murder went unnoticed on the daily. Like him, many interstate thugs were repeat customers, though the smarter ones, like him, kept to themselves for the duration of their hotel stays. The dummies were the ones to watch out for.

  His work as an interstate thug may have had its uglier moments, but with his work came job security. Fear of replacement by machines, or absolution, would never be an issue for him. Fear of death, now that was a downside.

  The Prominents put a gun in the hand of nearly every citizen, even Tramps. Escaping a jobsite without being fired at was quite the exercise. Shylar was spry; he'd been hit by a bullet less than a barrel full of times. Once in the arm, once in the leg, and twice in the ass. He kept the two bullets the back-alley surgeon pulled from his ass to remind him how lucky his backside was.

  His misled fortune enabled Shylar to feel invincible in any situation. He felt invincible whenever he started a job, he felt invincible on the run from citizens and Sammies, and he felt invincible as he watched a woman and man pay for their room at the front office of The Good Night's Sleep. The office interface greeted the couple, quoted their fee for the night, then dispensed their keys.

  He studied them closely. There had been no exchange of funds, and yet, the office interface had dispensed their keys anyway. A complex situation required an invincible man to investigate

  ~ * ~

  "Why didn't you let me pay?"

  "Why are you complaining? I saved you money."

  They were in their suite, going through their bags in preparation for separate showers. Initially, Kressick offered to pay for the room. His money had been one of Ada's stipulations for his continued company, and he meant to be of use. When it came time for him to prove his usefulness, she had tricked the machine into thinking they paid for the room when they hadn't.

  He was aware of her abilities so there was no reason for her to hide anymore. But her companion knew better. By indiscriminately using her power, the girl was maximizing her chances of being seen. If a Prominent witnessed her mutation, she would be reported to the Sammies immediately, and Kressick wasn't cut out for work at the camps.

  From the living room, Ada zapped a beam through the open bathroom door. The shower's interface responded by turning on the water. Another flurry of electricity at the wall interface and the television panel came on. The channel was set to a news broadcast, but after further maneuvering, she set the channel to an old movie. Characters on-screen debated whether or not their boss was dead or merely playing a mean prank.

  "Where is he?" One character walked around the jungle in search of someone.

  A second character looked at the exploded human remains that surrounded the area. "Looks to me like he's all over the place."

  "Turn off," Kressick said. The unit powered off. "Just because I know about your power doesn't mean you have to flaunt it."

  "Shut up." She pointed to turn the wall interface on for a second time.

  But he was not shutting up and spoke over the increasing volume of the television. "What you did earlier was an unnecessary display, one that could gain us notice."

  "When I comped us this room? No one was even there."

  Comped the room. Does the girl think we're in Vegas? She wasn't thinking at all lately, merely taking things she wanted, like a teenager. Her selfish nature was easy to manipulate, but it also jeopardized his mission.

  "You can't be sure who was watching, unless your ability includes fortunetelling."

  "Why do you care who sees me? You're tagging along, for economic and entertainment purposes only. Step outside of your main purpose, and I may forget to wake you up in the morning."

  She sent a zap at the wall, and the interface chattered away. If she thought she was being intimidating, she was wrong. Let her think that her little light show impresses me. So long as she keeps me around, that's all that matters.

  "Would you stop going all Zeus on the electronics?" Kressick nodded at the television panel, which released ribbons of blue smoke. "I'd rather one of your lightning bolts didn't miss and accidentally turn my heart into a lump of bloody coal."

  She stalked over to the counter by the front door and grabbed a plastic bucket. "I'm going to get some ice." Near the door, she said, "If I were to hit your heart, it wouldn't be by accident."

  When she was gone, he smiled. Same to you.

  ~ * ~

  Before her mother's hospitalization, Ada could have seen Kressick as a father-figure. Her longing for a paternal influence died with her mother's good health. Ada didn't want anyone caring for her anymore. Hopefully, he was figuring that out and would leave her alone.

  His purpose was wearing thin. Money wasn't an issue, as her conscience had evaporated after the experience at the gas station. Stealing money from government interfaces no longer made her nervous. An o-plane hadn't reported her yet, so maybe they weren't as vigilant as the Prominents let everyone believe they were. Overriding the hotel interface was just been the beginning.

  She found the ice machine in a dark corner. How come ice machines were always placed in dark corners? A bit of illumination never hurt anyone. Next to the dispenser was a snack machine. Real food. She set down the bucket to choose her meal. Hmm, chocolate bar? Gummy bears? Potato chips?

  She mentally imparted her food choices to the machine. One-by-one, the packages dropped to the opening. After filling the bucket, she plucked up her choices, and headed to the room. At the sight of a man leaning against the wall in the hallway, looking as though he belonged there, she hesitated slightly but kept going.

  He assessed her, up and down. "Do you ever pay for anything?"

  "Excuse me?" She gave him a cursory scan, noting he was tall and handsome, but not really caring.

  The cocky man made a mistake assuming she wanted to talk to him.

  "Math's not my strong suit, but I know in order to get anything out of a public machine, you have to put something in first." He flashed a bright smile which stood out against his dark skin. "You seem to have found a way to circumvent that exchange."

  "Circumvent? For being admitted math challenged, you sure know your big words." Ada crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking the stranger's stance.

  He shrugged. "Yeah, words are easy. I'm trying to figure out why you haven't told me to fuck off."

  Smart, b
ut not smart enough if he hadn't called the guards on her. Stealing from a public interface—a near impossible feat—was considered Un-Diligent Conduct. Successfully reported, the narc could receive a sizeable reward, with the satisfaction of sending the offender to various work camps stationed around the nation. There was one reason why he would have failed to report Ada's theft.

  "I'm waiting on you to call the guards," she said.

  The stranger chuckled. "Why would I do that?"

  She tilted her head. Her presumption was correct. "Then you're an IT."

  IT stood for interstate thug. Since the reference had been trademarked, the fear of IT's spread farther and wider.

  "I could be at that." His grin showed off dimples and white teeth.

  Even his suspicions, why hadn't he run? Was he smart enough to know she wasn't prepared to hurt another person so soon? As she imagined this man with a bloody face, her stomach churned.

  "Know what? I've had my share."

  She pushed past him into the hallway, then heard his footsteps following behind her. Idiot. If only he knew she was running away to protect him. Just because he was stupid didn't mean he deserved her brand of electric justice.

  "Stay," she snapped.

  The man stopped where he was. "Wait!" Panic colored his voice.

  Unconcerned, she kept going

  ~ * ~

  Later that night, Kressick left the room to get a bag he had forgotten in the car. On the way there, he passed a young man in the hallway.

  The meeting was unsubstantial, until the still nature of the man became too hard to ignore. He resembled a statue, frozen in mid-stride, one leg bent back and one arm about to swing upward. Kressick raised a brow, but otherwise gave little thought to the human mannequin.

  On his return to the room, he took the same route. Frozen in the same spot, in the same position as before, was the young man.

  “Well. Hello.” Kressick cocked his head.

  “Hello.”

  “What are you doing? Are you some sort of mime?” He suspected Ada, but wanted to be sure.

  “Not exactly, sir, but I’d be grateful if you would help me out. I was talking. To a woman. I pissed her off. Then...I don’t really know. What happened after that.” His words came out haltingly, passing through barely moving lips.