“Mom actually said that?” Cassie’s face shone with happiness. “She always hated my math!”
“Nah,” Martin said. “She was just being that way for you. She thought it was what you needed to hear. If parents told us what they really think about stuff, we could figure them out like regular people.”
Then he told her about his journey and all the amazing things he had seen. He even told her about the aromatic shoe dump. But he left out the terrifying storm in the ruined suburb, and he didn’t tell her that Hertz had been looking for her school. Those things were too scary for a six-year-old to hear, even if she was a genius.
Nevertheless, it was possible that Cassie guessed something about it. Certainly, she became very serious. “So much of what we learned in the suburb was wrong,” she said. “It was all just fluffy lies. Like Peter Pan. Do you know, I’ve read the real Peter Pan now. He wasn’t a lawyer at all; he was just a boy like you. And the Lost Boys weren’t accountants; they were a bunch of boys who got lost. They lived together in a cave underneath a forest, and they fought Captain Hook face-to-face, with guns and swords.”
“Wow!” Martin said. “That’s a module I might actually like.”
“You could read it if you’re going to stay for a few days,” Cassie said. “What are you going to do now?”
That was a good question. He had no home, no way to go back. It had all been fine as long as he had somewhere to go, but now that he had found Cassie, he had no goal.
“I dunno,” he said. “I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe I’ll just stay here and go to school.”
“You?” Cassie giggled. “Martin, you’d hate it! You couldn’t even do our work.”
“Well, hey, I don’t just have to sit in class with you little Wonder Babies,” he said, nettled. “There are older kids here too. There’s William. I’m probably in her grade.” For an agreeable moment, he imagined sitting behind William in class. Now, that would be a reason to go to school!
“William is a prototype more advanced than us Exponents. She doesn’t go to class, she teaches. All the teachers study every day, but they don’t take lessons. They team-teach one another, the way we used to do in the suburb.”
“Oh, isn’t that fabulous!” Martin muttered. “Just what the world needs: another brain!”
“You could still stay here,” Cassie said. “I know Rudy wouldn’t mind. There’s lots of work to do. You could help out.”
Martin imagined William standing before her class, pointing to something on a diagram: Now, you see here that the crystalline structure comes from Na and Cl—Oh, just a minute, class. Martin’s here to take out the trash.
“As janitor to the stars, huh? Not this guy! Let those brains empty their own garbage.”
“But what’ll you do if you don’t stay here? Maybe they’re sending bots after you. It isn’t safe to leave.”
“That’s just too bad for me, isn’t it?” he snapped. “I didn’t get a lucky break like having my own special school. It’s a shame your brother’s such a mental cripple. How embarrassing for you!”
Cassie burst into tears.
Martin hadn’t risked his life and walked all that way just to make his little sister cry. He hugged her tightly.
“Hey, stop it,” he begged. “I’m just being stupid. Did you know I brought your bunny all the way from home? That Rudy-Motley guy’s got it.”
She sobbed into the front of his shirt. “Really?” her muffled voice said. “I couldn’t sleep, I missed Bun so much. And I missed you, too.”
Martin swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I came.”
Cassie dug a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her face. “It’s just that I’m worried for you,” she quavered. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.” Neither did he, he reflected unhappily, but whatever happened, he was her big brother. She needed to remember him that way.
“Don’t worry about me, Cass,” he said. “I know how to get along out in the wilderness now. I don’t need suburbs and schools. You know what? I’m just like that kid in the story, that Peter Pan.”
“Can you really live like Peter Pan?” she said in wonder. “All on your own, without a pillow?”
“Sure,” he said. “What do you think I did to get here, push my bed along the packet rails? While you’re sitting in your classroom, learning about microbes and stuff, you think about your big brother out there living in a tree and fighting off bots with my bare hands. Maybe I’ll even have my own Lost Boys.”
A little smile broke through her tears, warming him with its glow. “Wow! My own brother. That’s amazing!”
“Yeah,” said Martin casually. “It probably seems pretty exciting to you. Hey, look, I better get going. I talked to Rudy about this place, and he seems okay. I guess I’ll let him look after you. But I’ll be back to make sure he doesn’t get all corrupt and turn you into factory workers or something.”
“Are you sure you have to leave now?” Cassie’s blue eyes threatened to fill with tears again. “You haven’t even met any of my new friends.”
“I’m sure,” Martin answered. His bravado was already trickling away, and he didn’t want her to see it run out. “Gotta go while it’s still daylight. I’ve got . . . shelters to build and stuff. And I’ll bet you’ve got schoolwork to finish.”
That helped, because of course she did. She perked up at once. Martin walked her down the hall while she described all the assignments she had to complete. So focused was he on maintaining his composure that he didn’t retain a word. He couldn’t even remember how her last smile looked after she hugged him good-bye.
Sim was at his elbow. “Rudy wants to see you,” he said, so Martin followed him to another of the offices. Rudy sat behind a desk almost as messy as William’s, and the thought of that brilliant young girl completed Martin’s misery.
“I listened to your conversation with your sister,” Rudy explained with a touch of remorse. “She’s right; I would be glad to offer you a place here. But I heard your decision, and I understand.”
Great, Martin thought. No chance now to beg for a home. It was back to the loneliness of the wide world, with only Chip for company. And Chip, unfortunately, couldn’t speak.
“I just want you to know,” Rudy went on, “how proud you would have made your designer. Dr. Dreyfus maintained to the end of his days that exam scores are a deceptive measure of our worth. He built into his Fourteens his own ingenuity and stubbornness, and I know humanity is richer for it.”
Martin remembered the feeling of Cassie’s last hug, and a lump rose in his throat. “But what good did it do?” he asked in despair. “All those guys are gone, all the baby doctors. So we’re it now, the very last ones. The stork isn’t ever going to come anymore.” He gulped. “No more scientists. No more babies!”
Rudy watched Martin struggle against tears, and a quizzical smile played across his face. “I can appreciate your concern,” he said at last. “But here’s some hopeful news. If you live outside the suburbs—with their media-perfected existence, and their sedative-laced foods, and their government-mandated, automatically dosed sterilizing drugs—if you choose to abandon these little slices of heaven for a life closer to what we humans were truly meant for, then, Martin, you will find that you do not need a scientist to help you make a baby.”
Martin wiped his nose. “What?” he asked.
“A logical question,” Rudy admitted hastily, “but I’m afraid that’s as far as it goes. Better get you off to your next adventure now; Sim will take you to your gear.” And a bewildered Martin found himself once again tagging along with the elderly bot.
They came to a very large room that apparently served as the cafeteria. At this time of day, all the benches were empty, and only one other person was in sight. She had poured the contents of Hertz’s knapsack onto one of the tables and laid the gear out in neat piles. Just now, she was hefting the skillet with the folding handle. Martin was incensed.
“Hey, that
’s my stuff!” he shouted, charging across the lunch-room.
“And heaven forbid I should touch your stuff,” she replied with perfect composure. She put the pan down and picked up a small container. “Do you have any idea what this does? No? Well, neither do I.”
After the incredibly beautiful people he had seen that day, this woman was refreshingly plain, but for all that, she still didn’t look ordinary. She had olive skin, a stubby nose, and a mouth that looked as if, whether it smiled or frowned, it would do so only on its own terms. Her black hair was clipped like a man’s and graying at the temples, even though she couldn’t have been older than thirty. She was short, and her bones were strong and compact. They gave her an active, vigorous appearance, like a rubber ball that would bounce right back if it got thumped.
She put down the mysterious container and looked at him. Her eyes were dark hazel, just like his, light brown with green and gold flecks.
“I heard what you said to your sister.”
“Did anybody not hear what I said to Cassie?” Martin groaned. “I should have been on television!”
“I’d have sat through it twice,” said the woman. “What’s eating you? Oh, I get it. You’ve just been talking to Rudy. Young Church Junior is a sweetheart, but he can be a major downer. That’s a Wonder Baby for you. Those guys get emotional over prime numbers.”
“Yeah,” agreed Martin, cheered by the analysis. “Yeah, that’s my sister, too.” He watched the woman make a thoughtful face, pursing her lips, as she held a medicine bottle up to the light.
“We Fourteens don’t think like that,” she observed as she put it down. “We don’t sit around and feel life’s pain. We just live. We get on with it.”
“Hey, are you a Fourteen too?”
Her face lit up with a shrewd grin, and the flecks in her hazel eyes gleamed like sparks. “You’re a Fourteen,” she said, snapping her finger against his shoulder. “I’m the Fourteen. I’m the prototype for all you little babies. My name’s Theo—Theodore Dreyfus. I was named for my designer.”
“Theo?” Martin felt the grin spread across his face.
The woman gave him an appraising glance. “You’ve got any funny things to say about my name, you get them out of your system right now,” she advised. “You didn’t say anything smart to William, I noticed. You just stared at her like she was solid gold.” She tumbled a set of nesting cups out of their case and squinted at one of the labels.
Martin felt his face heat up until the insides of his ears were on fire. “Crap!” he said bitterly. “Does everybody just mind everybody’s business around here?”
“Don’t talk to me about privacy,” said Theo with passion. “You didn’t grow up in a lab. You don’t even know what privacy means, young man, until you catch a team of scientists sneaking into your locker after lights-out, trying to steal the key to your diary. But enough of this chitchat. Down to brass tacks. Did you chicken out or are you really taking off?”
Feeling forlorn again, Martin sat down on the nearest bench. “I’m really taking off,” he answered.
“I knew it!” She smiled to herself. “Well, as it happens, so am I.”
“You are?” Martin stared at her. “Why?”
“Two reasons. We protos held a meeting, and we’re worried about the school. You found it fast enough—of course, you are a Fourteen—but still, we need a safer place. I’m heading out in the morning to look for one.
“And the second reason . . .” She stopped looking through the camping equipment and dropped down onto the bench beside him. “We Fourteens,” she explained in a low voice, “just hate school as it is. And this place is like your ultimate school. When I see all these little copies of Rudy running around, clutching their handhelds and holding the doors open for me, it’s like I’m stuck inside a bad horror movie. I can only take it for a couple of days, and then I have got to get out.”
Martin laughed. “I know just how you feel!”
“Well, if you can handle this place for one more night, you can come with me in the morning. Just think about it.” She resumed her work.
Martin watched her repack the camping gear, feeling pleased about life. He had an exciting mission ahead of him, and the way news traveled around here, odds were good that William had already heard about it.
Sim opened the door of the cafeteria, and a large shape hurtled through. It made straight for Martin, howling madly, and swept him off the bench. He struggled to get up, fending off the attack with both arms, but he didn’t have much success.
“Your bot is recharged,” Sim said helpfully, bending over him. “But I gather you know that already.”
“That thing is a dog?” Theo said. “You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s got two circuit boards and enough fancy chips to be the President and three of his special prosecutors.”
Martin struggled to his knees and threw his arms around the ecstatic German shepherd. “Don’t you listen to her, Chip,” he said. “You don’t want to be the President. Anybody can do that, even bad guys can do it, but who else can be the world’s best dog? Stop fooling around now. Act serious for a second and promise me you’re never gonna change.”
Chip’s wagging tail was the only answer he needed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CLARE B. DUNKLE STUDIED RUSSIAN AND LATIN AT TRINITY UNIVERSITY IN TEXAS, AND ALSO HOLDS A MASTER’S DEGREE IN LIBRARY SCIENCE FROM INDIANA UNIVERSITY. SHE NOW LIVES WITH HER FAMILY IN OBERMOHR, GERMANY.
The Sky Inside Page 20
